Ten Small Words

of it the to you in a and that is

I found these written on the back of a file folder. I think they are from Between the Lions which Alex used to watch on PBS before he went to preschool. Funny how ten small words can make me think of Arty Smartypants and Cliffhanger and a handful of index cards lined up on the living room floor in Spring Creek and a little girl asking "What does this say , Mommy?" I'm so thankful that we learned how to read.
This morning I read in Matthew 11 where Jesus says to the weary "Come to Me", and "let Me teach you".
Oh that I would learn.

Fat Tuesday

I wrote a blog entry about Mardi Gras that included beads, taking off my clothes, sweatshirts, Spring, ashes, and sackcloth. But because of the malformation or illegality of my client (see below), it did not appear here. Maybe that is for the best.

Bad Request

Whenever I hit the publish post button my computer says:

Bad Request

Your client has issued a malformed or illegal request

Malformed? Illegal?
And now a big red error message appears on my screen.
Somehow I think this is not good.

Luck Favors the Prepared

Went to the county courthouse Wednesday afternoon to apply for my passport. The courthouse is very courthouse-like. The Clerk of Courts is in charge of passports. I had all the necessary things gathered for Goober and I to apply for our passports. We had our photos taken before Christmas. His hair is longer than his shoulders and I look like a terrorist. If I ever disappear, I hope it is the picture they use on the news.
When you apply for your passport they want to know your travel plans. I don't have any travel plans. But luck favors the prepared, darling. So if I get the opportunity to go on a mission trip to Mexico, or be at the delivery of a grandchild in Slovakia, or am tapped to run for Vice-president of the United States, I'll be ready.
And I have 10 years to get to Paris. One of my life goals is to visit France. Now if I suddenly find the time and the money, I'll already have my passport. Oh, yeah. I'm well on my way.

Cold As Ice Fishing

These are the conversation hearts I gave the STP for Valentine's Day. He took Alex and I out to lunch today. He won lunch for 2 at the Sugar Shack in downtown Dodge City by entering the contest in the newspaper. The one where you had to describe in great detail your most romantic Valentines Day ever. No, really, all you had to do was answer the generic questions about Valentine's day and return it to the paper. And they only published the correct answers and the winners' names. No embarrassing pictures or poems.
But the best part of Valentine's Day this year was that the STP took me ice fishing. With 'the guys'. Ice fishing with the guys is no small deal. Wives do not go ice fishing. Even if the guys are going on Valentine's Day. They have breakfast together and one brave guy says, "Wives can come along." He knows his wife would never go, and he seriously doubts any other wife will go either. But Dave says, "Do you want to come along?" And I know that I will never get invited again, especially if I don't take this chance. So I went ice fishing.
Guys do not know what to do with this. First they think I am awesome and their wives are less than awesome because their wives would never go ice fishing with them. (except maybe once when they were dating). Then they start to get uncomfortable thinking that maybe other wives will start to go ice fishing and they will never get to go ice fishing again without their wives. And the wives are not really comfortable with me either. Maybe now their husbands will want them to go ice fishing with them. And who do I think I am--ice fishing with their husbands.
So here is what ice fishing is like: Cold.

Here is what you need to ice fish: A pick-up loaded with ice fishing paraphernalia and two sleds to haul said paraphernalia out onto the ice.

Ice fishing parphernalia includes: An ice auger (or two). To drill 6 to 10 inch holes through 18 inch thick ice. You first auger can be 6 inches in diameter, but the big fish are hard to get through a 6 inch hole so you will need a bigger auger. With a bigger engine. It takes two men to operate this, so you will also need a friend.
Ice fishing poles. This is a good time of year to buy an ice fishing pole, because they are on sale. You might as well buy two. If you have a license to ice fish you can use two poles. So you will have to drill two holes--for each of you.
A fish finder. This will tell you how deep the water is under the ice, so you know how deep to drop your line down the hole. It is also good to see fish swimming past your bait on their way to someone else's bait.
Bait. minnows, shrimp, or earth worms. Have some of each because you never know what the fish will be hungry for. The shrimp can be frozen. Ice fish love their food frozen. Also, you need a pocketful of miniature marshmallows to attach just above the earthworm on your hook. This makes the bait float a little, or else it gives the worm something to nibble on. If you are serious, your marshmallows are in a jar. They are bright green and have glitter on them. Now is a great time to buy a jar of these because they are on sale.
A fire pit. Set this up on the ice in the middle of where everyone is standing. Light a big fire. Once your line is baited and in the hole you will have a lot of time to stand around the fire. Stand on the far side of the fire from your holes. That way you can keep an eye on your poles in case you 'get a bite.' If you see your pole move you will have to holler and run frantically to your pole. Grab the line and give it a jerk to 'set the hook'. If you do not do this fast enough, some one else will do it for you. If the fish gets away it will be your fault, no matter how many guys have tugged on the line.
Now here is the part that is confusing. Put your pole (the one you just bought especially for ice fishing) down on the ice. Do not pick it up again until you have pulled the fish out of the hole using only your bare hands and a hand under hand motion on the fishing line. Just let the line fall in a tangle at your feet. I repeat--Do not use the pole or the reel. Again, if the fish gets away, it will be because you made a mistake in not keeping the line taut. You can probably solve this problem by buying a more expensive ice fishing rod. (While you are there you might as well price a new gun.)
A cooler stocked with food. Sausages to cook over the fire. Bags of Doritos. Drinks. However, if you are a woman you should not drink anything. There are no 'facilities' and it is not as easy for you to 'see a man about a horse' as it is for 'the guys'. And it is an hour home over a bumpy road.
If you catch a fish, it will flop around before it freezes to death. You will have to pick it up and get your picture taken with it. Hold the fish out in front of you, away from your body. This uses perspective to your advantage and makes your fish look bigger in the picture. If you want to catch another fish, you will have to kiss this fish. (This is a little known fact because guys do not take pictures of this ritual.)
If you want to sound like you know what you are doing, look at the fish and say, "Oh, it's a bull. See it's..." Do not finish the sentence. Anyone who does not know how the sentence ends will be too embarrassed to ask. Any one who knows what to look for will see it clearly and realize how knowledgable you are.
The STP and I only kissed each other, because we did not catch any fish. Alex caught two very nice cutthroat trout. My feet only got a little cold.
Would I do it again? Only if they asked me again.

From Amidala's Blog

Someday I will learn to use those little link things so you can go other places from here. But for now I just copied and pasted this from ami's blog. So you can keep up on the cloy world.

its everywhere.
i've been reading a book. for fun. don't ask me where i have been finding time to do this, i really dont know but i really like the book. its The Shack by William P. Young. i'm only about halfway through it now, but i only started it about three hours ago :)what i had to share was yet another intance of cloy being used outside of my family: its a more sad context, but its there nonetheless.

"Other times he would dream that his feet were stuck in cloying mud, as he caught breif glimpses of Missy running down the wooded path ahead of him, her red cotton summer dress gilded with wildflowers flashing among the trees."


Actually, when I copied and pasted this, the "its everywhere" made its own little link to itself. Maybe by just thinking about it I was able to do it. What if everything I desire tonight becomes my reality? This is way too much for my little mind. I'm going to bed before something really weird happens.

Emu, Brutus?

I got my Dad's propensity for clutter and his feet. The dry cracking kind of feet. It is exascerbated (exasperated?) by the dry winter weather. I am trying a new remedy. Emu oil. It comes in a little jar. It stains your feet and socks an ugly yellowbrown. It smells like emu butts. The list of ingredients lists 'fragrance' as an ingredient. What kind of fragrance would that be? Do they mean for it to smell like emu butts or does emu oil smell even worse than that and the fragrance is added to make it smell better? If that is the case, I don't want to ever smell unadulterated emu oil. I did a little research and found that the oil glad is not near the emu butt, but on it's back. What I couldn't determine was if the emu had to be dead in order to extract the oil. There is some suggestion (but no real evidence) that emu oil may also reduce wrinkles. I thought briefly about applying it to my neck, but the thought of my neck wrinkles filled with yellowbrown residue smelling like emu poo dissuaded me. And if the emu has to die, I'm pretty sure my vanity is not worth the life of an emu.
My feet are actually looking and feeling better. At least they are no longer cracked, bleeding, and painful.
This post reads like a bad spelling class essay. Where you have to use at least five of your vocabulary words in a paragraph. Exacerbated, propensity, unadulterated, residue, dissuaded. I'm not sure any of them are spelled right. Or used correctly. I really just wanted you to know about my feet. We're not going to talk about the clutter thing.

Ms. Brenda's Valentine's Playlist

Saturday night was the church Valentine's banquet. Held at the aforementioned Trapper Creek Lodge. The STP was asked to be the speaker. So since he doesn't have a lot of game and fish stories(yet), he decided to do his "All You Need Is Love" message. The one where he dresses like a hippie. (He wore his tattoo sleeve.) So as an introduction, I put together a Name That Tune game with songs that told our love story. I gave a few hints, the year of release, and a few bars of the song and the audience had to shout out the song title and artist. A good time was had by most.

I Want to Hold Your Hand The Beatles
Wouldn't It Be Nice Beach Boys
I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do ABBA
Weekend In New England Barry Manilow
Kiss Is On My List Hall and Oates
Slow Dancin' Johnny Rivers
Having My Baby Paul Anka
You Don't Bring Me Flowers B. Streisand/N. Diamond
Butterfly Kisses Bob Carlisle
I Loved Her First Heartland
We Will Dance Steven Curtis Chapman
God Only Knows Beach Boys
All You Need Is Love The Beatles

I plan to give the STP a copy of the CD for Valentine's Day along with some spanish conversation hearts. I hope he gives me chocolate. I do, I do , I do, I do, I do.

Walking Pneumonia and the Boogy Woogy Flu

The Booger has been sick for a week. Fever, chills, congestion, headache, stuffiness, runny nose, bloody nose, aching, coughing, lack of appetite, general malaise. As the week progressed, so did the symptoms. Finally on Friday the doctor pronounced the verdict of walking pneumonia. And we switched from over the counter remedies to antibiotics and prescription cough medicine. Still he doesn't move off the couch. I'm not sure about the walking part of the diagnosis.

Fish In A Bag-Explained For Ami

After the great ice fishing expedition and the pan fried fish with eyes, we were also given three smoked trout. I gifted one of them to the people from date night. I made one of them into dip to eat with crackers. And the STP wanted to send one back to guys he used to work with and originally ice fished with. The problem was deciding if a smoked trout was adequately preserved to survive a cross country trip through the mail. And how to answer the question, "Anything liquid, flamable or perishable?" So one of the church ladies had a vacuum sealer, and so the STP took the smoked trout over to her house and sealed it in a bag, put that bag into a box and mailed it off. He believes with the sub zero weather, the smoking, and the sealing that the fish was indeed NOT perishable.

The fish has yet to arrive.

I'm wondering if it ends up in the lost package department somewhere in the midwest, how long fish in a bag will remain imperishable.

Why Abi contemplates any of this? I can't explain that.

A Little More Cloy or Is This Getting Old?

From Joe Torre's book on the Yankees:

"Back in 2004, at first Rodriguez did his best to try and fit into the Yankee culture -- his cloying, B Grade actor best," the book says. "He slathered on the polish. People in the clubhouse, including teammates and support personnel, were calling him 'A-Fraud' behind his back."

Saw in the news that the Yankees are trying to include a clause in new player contracts that prohibits the use of the word cloy in any form. Good luck with that. I'm pretty sure cloy is back to stay.

Thank, Jimmy, for being my eyes out there.

I Used To Have Three Sisters

Alex visited the dentist shortly after his oldest sister left for college. The hygienist, in an attempt to make conversation (Why they do this when they have their hands in your mouth still eludes me), asked him if he had any brothers or sisters. He said,"I used to have three sisters, (and the hygienist braced herself for a sad story), but one of them went to college." I explained to him that even though your sisters don't live with you any longer, they are still your sisters.


Turns out I may have been mistaken.

I spent the past year getting to know my adult sisters better. A few delightful days in California, a week at the beach house in July. I thought we had bonded. Sent my baby sister a little gift that arrived on her birthday. Have all of their numbers in my cell phone. But after yesterday's edition of the Dodge City Gazette appeared on newstands and mailboxes throughout the region, I just have this to say: Sisters? What sisters?


Could they have used a baby picture, or even an awkward preteen picture? No. How about a recent, horrible, worse than real life picture! (And how did they photoshop those extra rolls on my stomach?)







Could they have cleverly disguised it so only those very close to me would be in on their little joke? No. How about my full name and my age just spelled right out!

On second thought, maybe I will keep my sisters. Now that I know how the game is played, I have 2, 3 and 10(!) years to exact my revenge. Years to gather inspiration and ammunition. I've only been thinking for one day and already I have this:

For the Cattauraggus Weekly:

NA: For your fiftieth an enormous surprise,

Finally your age is your bra size

(I have pictures...You know I do!)

For the Huntington Beach Press:

MK: Happy birthday to you,

Happy fiftieth to you,

You look like a crab,

and you smell like one too.

For the Clearfield Chronicle:

Remember I have 10 years for this one...

Oh, be afraid little sister, be very afraid....

Cloy Revisited

I have become a subscriber to Time magazine. Because it is difficult to get news here. Oddly the Feb. 2nd issue of Time arrived in my Dodge City mailbox on Jan. 26th. Is this because of the time zone changes? Or are we in Dodge City just ahead of our time? Anyway, on page 22 of this issue in a short article by Alex Altman regarding Super Bowl halftime shows there appears this sentence:
In 1976 the non-profit organization and performance group Up with People--lampooned on The Simpsons as Hooray for Everything--began a cloying stretch of dominance that included four performances in 11 years. (emphasis mine)
This may be the first sighting of a use of the word cloy outside of the hymbook.
Steelers in the Super Bowl? It never seems to cloy.

Birthday Week, Continued

Last night the STP and I, along with a couple from Dodge City Federal, went out to Trapper Creek Lodge for date night. Very good food, very good company (I invited them because they are OLDER than me) and a very good time. I wanted to take the STP there for his birthday, but decided it was what I wanted not him. So we went for my birthday. This is a place in Shell Canyon. Beautiful setting against the mountains, snow covered, log building, soft lighting against the dark sky of evening. Lovely.
Tonight I soaked in the tub by candlelight while the STP cleaned up after supper. And now I am going to watch Pirates of the Carribean (the first one!) with the STP and Goober.
I'll be sorry to see this week end.

Update on Healthy Breakfast Results

Just in case you forgot what the Goober looked like, and you've read the statistics about obese children, and you think maybe the marshmallow creme is a bit excessive, I just wanted to post this picture of my son. Maybe it's a little misleading, because he is standing sideways...

Let's Table That

Okay, maybe I have a table problem. On my way home from work at Dodge City Federal yesterday, I took a walking detour into the Dodge City used furniture store. And I bought a table. Not the table I was looking for. Another table that I just found out I needed when I saw it. Like my most favorite of things it is made of wood and will need painted. And I already have the less than coriander green paint, remember? So I had to buy it. And bring it home. And I already have a place for it. See?

Also, here are the pillows I made for the living room. The ones that have been crying out for their own table.

See how good they look with the table. And Dixie and her friend like it a lot. Oh, yeah, I'm going to hurry up and paint it green before the STP holds an intervention.
When did she start collecting and painting tables?

We can't really remember when it started, but it definately got worse when she turned 50.

Birthday week--Day 2

There was some discussion at Dodge City Federal the other day about being a year older, a decade older, a half century older. Inquired around to find out what the terminology is for half a century. Decided it is 'old'.

I started the day off by going to the doctor's office. Cross another thing off the to do list. Bad news: because I am old and have a family history I will have to schedule a colonoscopy. Add that to the to do list. Good news: because I am old and not sleeping around I do not have to have a pap smear this year. Almost makes turning 50 worth it. Then I watched the inauguration and then I went to Bible Study and then I took Alex to the dentist for a checkup and cleaning. So that is one more thing crossed off the list. More good news: I didn't get lost and no cavities. Then I came home and baked a pan of brownies. So it seems that I'm running about two-to-one in the good news/bad news and off the list/on the list categories.
Just noticing that there is no between as you age. Seems like there should be some time between your face breaking out and your hair turning gray. Or some time between having your last period and facial hair. The physician's assistant asked me about some symptoms and conditions that I don't have yet. Wonderful things that I have to look forward to.
My favorite daughter got me two worship CDs for my birthday. The STP got me a CD player for under my kitchen cabinets. My CD player in my car has worked 3 days in a row. Nobody got me black balloons.
It's all good.

Shredding

Today I am celebrating the first day of my 50th birthday week. Told the kids at church yesterday that when your age ends in a zero you should celebrate for a whole week. I celebrated by doing 5 loads of laundry and sorting through papers. And shredding things I don't think I need anymore. I was hopeful that the place would be less messy at the end of the day , but so far it's not working out that way. Maybe when I actually fold the 5 loads of laundry and clean up the shreddings it will be better.

I have more plans for tomorrow. Just went ahead and scheduled a pap smear for 8am tomorrow morning. Do I know how to celebrate or what? Guess you can be glad I didn't invite you to my party.

No Fishing

Yesterday was a great day for ice fishing. So the STP went. I never get invited to go along. I told him how dissappointed I am with this. I told him that the next time the guys ask him to go fishing he should ask if he can bring his wife. I don't think he even asked.
He brought home some beautiful trout. Most of them were in the form of fillets, but this lucky creature got to keep his head.

And his tail. So I just pan fried him just like that.

In some butter and my own mix of herbs. Alex thought he wouldn't want to eat fish every night, but he ate his share tonight. Dave feels the same about fish. I thought it was very good and it is the first thing I have ever cooked with it's eyeballs intact.

Maybe if the guys find out I can cook a trout they will invite me to go along.

Hey, Dave. Can your wife come along and clean the fish?

Nah, let's just bring 'em home and she can do it there.

GB Report

The cutest grandbaby on earth is spending a few days with us. So we don't have time to update and tell you about the STP's speeding ticket or his new HDTV or how sad we are that Amidala had to fly back to the 'East Coast'. We are too busy kissing this baby.