Other’s Sage Words

Last week one of my oldest friends forwarded me this advice on “How to be perfect.” Perfection is never something I strived for, much to my parents dismay. I have been happy and that is better than perfection in my book any day. Despite the title I did agree with most of what was written so I thought I would share it with all of you. If I were allowed to retitle it I might call it, “Stuff you know when your old, but wish you’d started following earlier.” That may be too longs title. Enjoy!

How to Be Perfect

Everything is perfect, dear friend.

—KEROUAC

Get some sleep.

Don’t give advice.

Take care of your teeth and gums.

Don’t be afraid of anything beyond your control.

Don’t be afraid, for instance, that the building will collapse as you sleep, or that someone you love will suddenly drop dead.

Eat an orange every morning.

Be friendly. It will help make you happy.

Raise your pulse rate to 120 beats per minute for 20 straight minutes four or five times a week doing anything you enjoy.

Hope for everything. Expect nothing.

Take care of things close to home first. Straighten up your room before you save the world. Then save the world.

Know that the desire to be perfect is probably the veiled expression of another desire—to be loved, perhaps, or not to die.

Make eye contact with a tree.

Be skeptical about all opinions, but try to see some value in each of them.

Dress in a way that pleases both you and those around you.

Do not speak quickly.

Learn something every day. (Dzien dobre!)

Be nice to people before they have a chance to behave badly.

Don’t stay angry about anything for more than a week, but don’t Forget  what made you angry. Hold your anger out at arm’s length and look at it, as if it were a glass ball. Then add it to your glass ball collection.

Be loyal.

Wear comfortable shoes.

Design your activities so that they show a pleasing balance and variety.

Be kind to old people, even when they are obnoxious. When you become old, be kind to young people. Do not throw your cane at them when they call you Grandpa. They are your grandchildren!

Live with an animal.

Do not spend too much time with large groups of people.

If you need help, ask for it.

Cultivate good posture until it becomes natural.

Plan your day so you never have to rush.

Show your appreciation to people who do things for you, even if you have paid them, even if they do favors you don’t want.

Do not waste money you could be giving to those who need it.

Expect society to be defective. Then weep when you find that it is far more defective than you imagined.

When you borrow something, return it in an even better condition.

As much as possible, use wooden objects instead of plastic or metal ones.

Look at that bird over there.

After dinner, wash the dishes.

Calm down.

Visit foreign countries, except those whose inhabitants have expressed a desire to kill you.

Don’t expect your children to love you, so they can, if they want to.

Meditate on the spiritual. Then go a little further, if you feel like it. What is out (in) there?

Sing, every once in a while.

Be on time, but if you are late do not give a detailed and lengthy excuse.

Don’t be too self-critical or too self-congratulatory.

Don’t think that progress exists. It doesn’t.

Walk upstairs.

Do not practice cannibalism.

Imagine what you would like to see happen, and then don’t do anything to make it impossible.

Take your phone off the hook at least twice a week.

Keep your windows clean.

Extirpate all traces of personal ambitiousness.

Don’t use the word extirpate too often.

Forgive your country every once in a while. If that is not possible, go to another one.

If you feel tired, rest.

Grow something.

Do not wander through train stations muttering, “We’re all going to die!”

Count among your true friends people of various stations of life.

Appreciate simple pleasures, such as the pleasure of chewing, the pleasure of warm water running down your back, the pleasure of a cool breeze, the pleasure of falling asleep.

Do not exclaim, “Isn’t technology wonderful!”

Learn how to stretch your muscles. Stretch them every day.

Don’t be depressed about growing older. It will make you feel even older. Which is depressing.

Do one thing at a time.

If you burn your finger, put it in cold water immediately. If you bang your finger with a hammer, hold your hand in the air for twenty minutes. You will be surprised by the curative powers of coldness and gravity.

Learn how to whistle at earsplitting volume.

Be calm in a crisis. The more critical the situation, the calmer you should be.

Enjoy sex, but don’t become obsessed with it. Except for brief periods in your adolescence, youth, middle age, and old age.

Contemplate everything’s opposite.

If you’re struck with the fear that you’ve swum out too far in the ocean, turn around and go back to the lifeboat.

Keep your childish self alive.

Answer letters promptly. Use attractive stamps, like the one with a tornado on it.

Cry every once in a while, but only when alone. Then appreciate how much better you feel. Don’t be embarrassed about feeling better.

Do not inhale smoke.

Take a deep breath.

Do not smart off to a policeman.

Do not step off the curb until you can walk all the way across the street. From the curb you can study the pedestrians who are trapped in the middle of the crazed and roaring traffic.

Be good.

Walk down different streets.

Backwards.

Remember beauty, which exists, and truth, which does not. Notice that the idea of truth is just as powerful as the idea of beauty.

Stay out of jail.

In later life, become a mystic.

Visit friends and acquaintances in the hospital. When you feel it is time to leave, do so.

Be honest with yourself, diplomatic with others.

Do not go crazy a lot. It’s a waste of time.

Read and reread great books.

Dig a hole with a shovel.

In winter, before you go to bed, humidify your bedroom.

Know that the only perfect things are a 300 game in bowling and a 27-batter, 27-out game in baseball.

Drink plenty of water. When asked what you would like to drink, say, “Water, please.”

Ask “Where is the loo?” but not “Where can I urinate?”

Be kind to physical objects.

Beginning at age twenty get a complete “physical” every few years from a doctor you trust and feel comfortable with.

Learn how to say “hello,” “thank you,” and “chopsticks” in Mandarin.

Belch and fart, but quietly.

Be especially cordial to foreigners.

See shadow puppet plays and imagine that you are one of the characters. Or all of them.

Take out the trash.

Love life.

Use exact change.

When there’s shooting in the street, don’t go near the window.

Sometimers

I know better, I do. I can’t remember to take something out of the oven at the right time without a timer. I am not 25 years old anymore. I can’t keep multiple jobs going in my head at the same time. Still, even though I aware of my actual age and limitations I still walk away from the oven without setting a timer, even though I have more timers available to me than ever. The one on the oven, the magnetic one attached to the fridge, which is portable, the timer on my phone and the easiest one of all, the one on my watch. I need to engrave “Don’t walk away until you have set the timer,” on my oven.

This afternoon I put a big pile of butternut squash on a pan in the oven, set at 400° and went upstairs. I knew it only needed twenty minutes. I had 22 minutes before a conference call to advise some people about raising money at an auction I’m auctioneering for. Did I set the timer? You know the answer.

I did not return to the kitchen before my call. I had the call which lasted 55 minutes and only once I hung up did I notice the smell. I have been trained by making similar mistakes in the past that by the time I smell what is cooking in the oven on the floor below me it is burned.

Shoot! Sure enough I incinerated the squash. So much for that being an ingredient in my Mah Jongg Salad tomorrow. Have I learned my lesson? Probably not, but writing about it might help reinforce in my mind that I need to use a timer because I clearly have sometimers. If you don’t know what sometimers is you might be under 35. It is that you forget things some of the time. Not as serious as Alzheimer’s, but frustrating nonetheless

Pre-Birthday Lunch With My Mother

My mother had her regular doctor’s appointment today in Durham so she came to take me to lunch for my birthday, two weeks early because why not kill two birds with one stone. We went around the corner to Bull St. where we got the last table between an older than me, but younger than my Mom, woman who was eating alone and a college student studying. My mom’s hearing is not the best, especially in a noisy restaurant so I am sure I was speaking to her in my normally loud voice. I was awarded best cable salesperson at selling to the elderly due to my low and loud voice.

Our conversation covered our normal litany of topics. Starting with who’s died or is sick. Since my parents are great lovers of George H.W. Bush, they had watched Barbara’s funeral in real time on TV on a Saturday. My mother reported that my father said, “It was the best thing they had seen on TV all year.” I am going to have to write a Doro Bush and tell her that.

After covering who is sick or might be sick, or should be sick, due to the way they live, our conversation turned to what my sisters and I are supposed to do with my mother when she is dead. Nothing is eminent, this or talk of something like this is perfectly normal. Many times my mother has quizzed me about what I am going to do with her…fill in the blank, when she is gone. She just wants to know that I am spending all my time worrying about her stuff.

Since I did a major clean out yesterday and followed it up today with emptying a dresser full of shirts I will never wear again, I encouraged her to do some purging. “I can’t, I don’t know where to start,” She hedged. “Just start with one drawer,” I encouraged her.

Cleaning out my stuff is bad enough but the thought of doing my mother’s is not fun. “I’ll come to the farm and help you this summer,” I offered. “But you are not going to like how hard on you I will be.” That was the end of that line of talk.

The older of the two women sitting on one side of us got up to leave and leaned in and said, “I have had the best time listening to you two. I am sorry the tables are so close, I couldn’t help but over hear.” Looking at me she said, “You are the best daughter.”

I quickly corrected her and said that my sister was the best daughter, but apologized for interrupting her lunch. She told my mother she was lucky. I must have sounded nicer than usual for someone to think that since the good daughter was not with us.

It was the perfect way to celebrate my impending birthday with my mother, planning deaths, and talking illness. Maybe she will surprise me and clean out a drawer so I won’t have to do it in ten or fifteen years.

The Cleaning Out Never Ends

Since I was away during the weekday I felt like I needed to have a productive weekend. I think the universe was also telling me this since the lead segment on CBS Sunday morning was about cleaning up cluttered spaces. I had not planned on involving Russ in my guilt related spring cleaning, but the Sunday morning segment must have gotten to him so together we spent the day cleaning out the garage.

Shay was not pleased with this activity, until Russ brought one of her beds out so she could watch us in comfort. Piled on my work table in the garage were a bunch of things I had planned on giving away a year ago, but somehow had just let stay piled on the counter. I have no idea why they just sat there, but it a lot easier to get rid of things that have already sat in the garage for a year. Included in that pile were things like out original Garmin GPS. What was I thinking was going to happen with it? Certainly no one on earth wants that, so I finally just threw it away.

Russ cleaned off my potting bench which had been unusable due to clutter for at least ten years. We tossed or recycled 20 years worth of floral baskets that came when people sent me flowers. I think a few of them were from Carter’s birth.

I swept, washed and scrubbed places in the garage that never had been cleaned before. Yet, still after a good part of the day there are plenty of places we didn’t even touch. Russ’ tools are still not right. But that is a whole weekend project in itself.

I just feel better that when my mother comes over tomorrow for lunch and to bring the clothes she wants me to take to Nearly New to donate for her she won’t say, “You need to move.” This is always her response to my messy garage. I don’t bother to mention any corresponding places at her house.

The CBS story pointed out that this clutter problem is so American because of our consumer culture. This is what I find amazing at my house, because I have cut back to trying not to buy anything other than quilting material. I know that is a sickness all it’s own. Yet, even with my not buying new things I am still working on getting rid of things I bought before I was married.

At this rate I might get everything cleaned out just in time to die at a normal age. Until then I think that the cleaning things out is keeping me alive, so I might always have that one closet until I am, ready to go.

Laffa, You Didn’t Know

When I was in Atlanta, Kelly and I ate Israeli street food for lunch one day. We both got Chicken Shawarma, which you could have in a bowl, a pita or a laffa. Neither of us knew what a Laffa was so we chose that. It was fantastic.

Laffa is a flat bread that has been grilled. I watched the food prep guy at Yalla assemble our sandwiches, which were more like Israeli burritos. First he took the big round Laffa bread and smeared it with a thin layer of hummus, then a little baba ganoush, what could be bad? Then he put a few slices of cooked eggplant, some thing they called Israelite salad, which was chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, garlic and cilantro, with lemon juice and olive oil, added spit roasted chicken, harissa, tahini and amba, which is mango and vinegar sauce. The combination was perfect.

Tonight for dinner I was going to make salmon and I had some nice tomatoes I needed to use up. I decided to make an open faced Laffa, but with only about half as many things as they did at Yalla because it was only me and Russ. I cooked some eggplant on my cast iron panini pan. I had some hummus and I made my version of Israeli salad. I pan cooked the salmon and so all I had to do was make the Laffa. It was very easy, but took a little time because it had to rise. Russ loved it and has plans for all the leftover Laffa for breakfast, lunch and dinner tomorrow.

This recipe makes about 10 -12 inch Laffa. It would be hard to cut it down because it uses one packet of yeast. But go on and make them. They will keep in the freezer or the fridge.

7cups of bread flour plus extra for making the dough the right consistency

1 packet of rapid rise yeast

2 T. Sugar

1 T. Salt

4 T. Olive oil

3 cups of warm water

Put all the dry ingredients in the stand mixer with the dough hook. Mix it all up. Add the wet ingredients and mix on medium speed until all incorporated. If the dough is very wet add a little more flour a bit at a time while the mixer is kneading the dough. You want the dough to pull away from the sides of the bowl and form a ball. It might take up to ten minutes to get it that way.

Take a clean bowl and coat the inside with olive oil. Place the ball of Dough in that new bowl and cover with plastic wrap and then a clean dish towel. Put in the microwave, but don’t turn the microwave on. Leave it there for an hour to rise. If your yeast was new it should double.

After doubling punch it down and divide the dough into ten smaller balls and let rest on a oiled sheet pan for ten minutes. Heat a griddle on the stove to high heat. I used the panini one with raised grates so that it left grill lines.

Take one of the dough balls and roll it out like a pizza and place it on the hot grill pan. Cook one one side for about two- three minutes and then flip it over and cook the other side for about one- two minutes. Repeat with all the other dough balls.

You get a thin flexible bread that is better than a pizza crust, but would make a great pizza

too. It is so much better than pita bread I can’t imagine ever eating pita again.

.

Good Beginning and Good Ending

There is nothing better than coming home after a week away to a wonderful surprise. I’m not talking abut Shay and Russ who ran out to the car to greet me, which was wonderful. Nor am I talking about a tax refund that came in the mail, or the quilting curved ruler than I ordered that was here, but that was not the best thing that came in the mail.

It was a small brown envelope with a little needlepoint canvas and thread and a note of thanks from my friend Downtown Lisa Brown. She was the connection with the Wesley Campus Ministry that I auctioneered for last weekend. I was happy to do that job for them and the thank you was completely over the top, but I must admit I love it.

It was the perfect home coming to a really fun week. I had three days with Kelly and Mark and loved every minute. This morning I left them and went to visit my dear friend Leigh. We originally met when her daughter Stokes and Carter were in the same Pre-K class together. Leigh had moved away from Durham about ten years go, but we still keep up. She showed me the photo of Stokes, Carter and their other best friend Campbell at their kindergarten graduation which is displayed in her family room. Three girls with those names, prompted me to call them “a friendship, not a law firm.”

Leigh and I caught up at her house and continued our visit at her favorite Jewish Deli where we enjoyed breakfast. It was too short a visit. I was just happy to see Leigh, who looks better and younger, than ever, but she still wouldn’t let me take her picture

If you take the six hour drive out of my day it would have been perfect. Even with the one lane stretch of I-85 through Spartanburg and the reduction of two lanes around Kannapolis, I would gladly make the drive again to get to spend a week with such good friends.

I am happy to be home with my snuggling puppy and happy husband. Now if Spring would just decide to come and stay everything at home will be glorious. Although, now I have quilting and needlepointing to do and they are best done in cold bad weather.

Dinners Atlanta Style

Coming to visit Mark and Kelly has been a dinner extravaganza. Last night, for the chance for me to reconnect with my old friends Roz and Earl, who I loved introducing to Mark and Kelly and tonight for the most fantastic dining experience. Russ Lange, you need to come to Atlanta with me so we can recreate both experiences with you.

Roz and Earl were out first great friends in Durham. We met them at a party at their neighbor’s house when we first moved to Durham. They were the first people we invited over for cocktails and they came and it was the start of a wonderful friendship. Then after spending seven years with them, they up and moved to Atlanta. So sad for us.

When I knew I was coming to see Kelly I told her about Roz and Earl and thought they might like each other. So we all met up at a local restaurant last night and had a lovely time. It made me miss seeing them every week in Durham, but I promised we would be better at seeing each other.

If last night was about friends tonight was about food. Mark and Kelly, who are adventurous eaters had made a difficult to get reservation at a cool concept restaurant called Gunshow. It was on the other side of Atlanta, which means that it is quite a commitment to get there in rush hour traffic. I enjoyed the Waze tour of Atlanta, liking the historic Druid Hills neighborhood the best.

After the hour and fifteen minute drive we finally arrived at the SE eatery, which had an open kitchen and hipster servers. What makes the place so different is there are guest chefs who make different dishes and they bring them around to the table and offer them to your dining group to share, if you want, in a dim sum kind of fashion. Even the bar is on a rolling cart with a roving bartender.

Having three of us was perfect because we each got to have a couple of bites of each dish. We started with grilled chicken hearts with peach, vidalias, rhubarb, mustard and coppa. Who knew I liked chicken heart so much? There was no dish we passed up, but two were our favorites, the Mushroom Pate, sourdough croutons, dill, mushroom ketchup with truffle and the most outstanding, Tandori chicken thigh, crushed peas, coconut and green chilies.

There is no reason for me to describe every dish to you because they will change tomorrow and the next day and the next. It would just be cruel to do that, instead you can drool over the photos and wonder what in the world it all is.

The only things we did not like were the desserts and the Szechuan tofu lo mein, which had the strange ability to make your mouth feel saltier and saltier long after you had stopped eating it.

My advice is don’t miss the Gunshow if you have the chance to be in Atlanta and if you meet a couple named Roz and Earl or Mark and Kelly, try and be their friends, you will enjoy them all.

Atlanta By Foot and A Surprise

I didn’t used to think of Atlanta as a walking city. It always seemed to be designed for cars and not humans. Things have changed in one part of town. Kelly took me to the Ponce City Market which used to be a huge Sears distribution building. It has been reimagined into a shopping, eating, living and working complex in such a beautiful way. There is a greenway/walking path called the beltline that run along the old railroad tracks.

Kelly and I set out from the Ponce city Market this morning and walked a few miles to the Krog Street Market. I finally felt like we had left winter. It was in the sixties when we started and in the eighties when we finished so we went through spring and got to summer all in a few hours.

At Krog we looked around at the lunch choices and settled on Israeli food. We both had a chicken Shawarma Laffa. It was like an Israeli burrito, minus the beans and rice. So good. I am going to have to figure out how to make this for Russ.

We walked back and Kelly showed me the most brilliant business, a drop in day care for dogs that is open from 4:30-9:00 at night so people can walk their dogs to the Market and go in and eat a nice dinner while their dogs play at dogcare. So smart. That is the sign that a place has turned into a walking city.

After we got oh so many steps we went to a needlepoint store called In Stitches which I had been dying to go to. Not that I need any more needlepoint, but I always like to see what they have in the way of fibers. Kelly and I walked in the little house of a store and there was the most famous of needlepoint teachers, the needlepoint god I have been dying to take a class from, Tony Minieri.

Since my dear needlepoint friend, Elizabeth Hurd, has taken many classes from him I introduced myself as a friend of hers and asked if we could get a picture together. He was a nice as could be and sends Elizabeth a hug. I explained to Kelly that for a stitcher, meeting Tony was like meeting the Beatles.

So far I am having a blast in Atlanta and i haven’t been here 24 hours yet. More fun to come.

Good South African Friends

When Carter was in 8th grade she came home from school one day and said, “We had the nicest twins, a boy and a girl, come and tour the school today. They are from South Africa.” She new that South Africa was my favorite place I had ever visited so we talked about why I liked it so much, “All the people I met there were so warm and friendly,” I tried to explain.

That summer, when I was in charge of the welcoming program for new families to the school I found out that those South African twins were admitted and their family was moving to Durham from Cincinnati. Since they were not just new to the school, but also the town I took them as out mentee family. Being the mentor family for Cait and Adam Ushpol was the best perk of being on that committee, because along with the twins came their parents, Kelly and Mark Ushpol. They held true to my feeling of all the other South Africans I had met and we became friends right away.

Russ is not usually one to get involved in the mentor/mentee relationship, but once I met Mark I knew Russ wold like him. It worked out perfectly that Carter and Cait became great friends, Kelly and I did and Mark and Russ, we all also loved Adam and their two dogs Zoe and Ella. The Ushpol’s would come to the farm for thanksgiving and were the perfect guests.

Then, just as the kids were finishing up their schooling Mark and Kelly announced they were moving to Atlanta. Like a whirlwind they moved into our lives and then they were gone. For the kids, they were all going off to different colleges so it was not that weird for them, but for me and Russ, we lost not just the kids, but Kelly and Mark too.

Adam stayed locally in NC for college so that meant we got Kelly and Mark for Parents weekend, but I promised Kelly I would come to Atlanta to visit while the kids were in school. It is hard to move to a new place when you don’t have kids in school to give you a group of people you have connections with.

With Russ having his eye operation at the beginning of the year I had to refrain from planning any travel in case I was needed to be his eyes. Once he had the miraculous operation that brought back his sight I was free to travel. I packed in as much as I could in a short couple of months. So with one week left before Carter is finished with her Freshman year I made the trip to Atlanta, to keep my promise to come and visit.

It is no hardship to come and visit Kelly and Mark. They have a beautiful house and are the most hospitable hosts. Kelly didn’t even let me help make the salad for dinner. Of course she would let me take her picture, but Mark obliged my need for a blog photo. Of course I had good snuggles from Ella. I just wish Cait and Adam, Russ and Carter were all here too. These aren’t just our South African friends, but our dear friends.

Who Are Those Kids in New Canaan?

My mom sent me this photo off me at nursery school on Halloween when I was four. I remember that slide indoors in the basement of the church preschool I went to in New Canaan, Connecticut. I have no idea who those boys are behind me. I would love to see how well the internet works and see if I can find out who they were and what the name of the church pre-school was.

The year had to be about 1965. Neither my mother nor I can remember the name of the church, but I do remember that it was on South Avenue south of Center school on the right hand side if you are driving south. I know this because I used to ride my bike by it on my weekly outings to Breslow’s on Saturday mornings. I am fairly certain it was brick, possibly a Methodist a church.

I remember wearing those brown and white saddle shoes everyday. I think that they were one of three pairs of shoes I owned. The others were blue meds and black Mary Janes for church. There seemed to be two themes of costumes, the white and pink slippery material kind like me and the boy right behind me wore, or the animal prints of the next two kids. Let’s see if anyone can figure out who and where we were.

Archie Bunker is President

When I was a kid “All in the family,” the Archie Bunker bigot driven comedy was a big show. My parents were southerners through and through so I had never met the likes of anyone like Archie Bunker. Not in pure bred Connecticut, where we lived or in the south where we vacationed visiting our relatives. Archie Bunker insulted people right to their face with the most horrific phrases, that a southerner would never had said.

Now we have a President who tweets worse than Archie Bunker, spoke. The latest in his never ending name calling is the one about Comey, “the untruthful slime ball.” When I heard that it finally dawned on me who 45 sounds like, Archie Bunker. Both loud mouth old white men who insult you to your face were born and grew up in Queens. Now as a southerner I hate to insult Queens this way, so I’ll just say, “They both were from Queens, bless their heart.”

What I think our current POTUS is missing is the southern gift of being able to insult someone with out them being exactly sure that is what you were doing.

My father has perfected that. You know he does not think much of someone when he says, “Poor thing, he’s all he’ll ever be.”

Rather than saying someone is an “untruthful slime ball,” Trump could tweet, “He ain’t got the sense God gave a cucumber.” It basically means the same thing, but is just not so harsh on the ears. It also gives a little feel of superiority that the insulter has for the insulted. That is the difference between southern insults and those of the “Queens bred.”

45 has lowered himself into the same muck he complains about from the people he insults. A southern keeps their hands clean by almost always adding the phrase, “bless their heart,” as some kind of disclaimer for the insult. “She doesn’t have the sense she was born with, bless her heart,” as opposed to Trump’s, “Crazy and very dumb.” (An actual quote about Mika Brezinski.)

So rather than go the Archie Bunker route on Trump I just say, “he’s got more dollars than sense.” My prediction is that Comey is going to prove him wrong. If we had an untruthful meter it probably wouldn’t be close between Trump and Comey. And as far a slime is concerned, well 45 should open that can of worms. If Trump were a woman the southern insult that fits him perfectly is “He’s just not Junior League Material.”

Another Satisfied Charity

In my effort to part everyone from their money for a good cause I was the auctioneer at the Wesley Campus Ministry auction in Chapel Hill tonight. I think it is good that I spread out my auctioneering to many towns so that I don’t become unwelcome in my own town.

This was my first time working this crowd and it always takes one auction to understand the dynamics and the deepness of the pockets of the guests. Since it was a campus group I had college students on one end of the spectrum and the seniors, and I don’t mean graduating people, on the other end. They couldn’t have been a nicer group of people.

The guests arrived at five and visited the food stations and the silent auction items. There was a schedule set out for the evening that would have me starting the live auction at 7:00, but around 6:00 I sensed that people had finished eating and worried that we would lose our crowd. I asked the auction chairs if I could change the plans to start the live auction right away. Everyone jumped into action and in ten minutes we were set up and ready to go.

Methodists are very attentive audience members. The bidding on the six items happened a

little slowly than I like, but then I moved into the fund-a-ministry section where I just ask people to give money for no goods. I made my impassioned plea and it moved some people. That portion of the auction went fantastically. After it was over I had a good number of older men, who told me they attend this auction every year, tell me things like, “I came planning on donating $30 and somehow you got $500 out of me.” I told them I hope it didn’t hurt too much, and they just shook my hand more enthusiastically and said, “No, thank you.”

No one ran me over in the parking lot so I think it was a successful auction. At least the chair was happy, we beat their goal by a good amount and that is what I like to do. Another satisfied charity.

Socks Or A Chicken Sandwich? Chicken Sandwich Or Socks?

Most dogs given the choice will chose a chicken sandwich – not Shay. There has never been a dog who liked socks as much as she does. When Russ comes home from work he puts his gym bag in his office. At some point during our dinner Shay will disappear upstairs and then we here her whining. That’s her tell that she has opened the bag, routed around and now is carrying two socks in her mouth searching for a place to hide them.

The fact that she is whining completely ruins the hiding. We know her hiding spots and know when to look for the socks once the whining is complete.

Tonight we were still enjoying dinner when Shay reappeared in the kitchen, whine free. Instead she stood by Russ begging for some of his chicken.

“Chicken, oh no Chicken,” Russ said as he bound upstairs.

I had no idea what he was talking about until he returned with a foil ball the size of a baseball.

“I had half a leftover chicken sandwich in my bag, but the sock stealer did not seem interested in that. She just took the socks.”

Thank goodness Shay did her whining sock stealing routine. If she didn’t Russ certainly would have had a leftover chicken sandwich in his bag all weekend.

Rothy’s Shoe Review

I am not someone who is mad at Facebook. I like that it knows me and shows me things I might be interested in. I hate shopping and to have some smart program curate things for me is just fine. I don’t have to look at them if I don’t want to and I certainly don’t have to buy them.

For months my feed has included these shoes called Rothy’s. I really liked the way they looked. Nothing is better to me than a good flat with a rubber sole. I am, after all, old enough to only care about comfort. What was so cute about these shoes is the colors and patterns and the fact that they are knit and therefore seamless and thus less likely to rub me the wrong way.

They are not really inexpensive so I didn’t just go ahead and order a pair without trying them. Then last week when I was on my Kentucky trip with my friend Jan I noticed she had two pairs. Jan is always an early adaptor. I asked if she liked them. She could have starred in an ad for them. Our other friend Mary Jo was also interested so we both tried Jan’s on. We were sold.

Since Jan was already a good customer, having bought pairs for both her daughter and daughter-in-law, she gave us good advice. The pointy ones might need to be purchased in a half size up if you have wide feet. The round toe ones run true to size. Mary Jo and I both wanted to order right then and there, but Jan said, “Wait, let me refer you and you get and I will both get $20 off.” Sold.

So my pair came today and they fit perfectly. I love the color and they are very comfortable. The cool thing is you can wash them in the washing machine. They are also vegan, if you don’t like wearing leather shoes while eating a hamburger. They weigh practically nothing and can squish down for packing.

I want to get another color, but I also want to get $20 off, so I need to refer someone who is going to buy a pair. I am happy to let you try mine on if you are local. If you have wondered about these shoes you see on Facebook, message me and I will refer you. I love mine and I am always trying to save my friends money

Will Local Strawberry Season Ever Come?

I had to go buy strawberries yesterday. My local store didn’t have any so I had to go farther afield. I found some, but they were from very far away, like Florida. I looked at my watch for the date, April 9. By now we should be getting strawberries from at least Georgia, or even Southern North Carolina. These Florida Strawberries are just flavorless.

I went to get dressed this morning. What to wear on April 10 when it’s fifty five degrees out? I am sick of my fall, winter and post winter, it’s still freezing out clothes. Those clothes are just flavorless.

I looked out at my vegetable garden area. It is just dirt and stalks of last year’s crops. No green, not even weeds. I normally would be chomping at the bit to be putting in some arugula and herbs and getting my zucchini started. Not this year. Too cold to even consider playing in the dirt, it all just lays fallow, which is the dirt word for flavorless.

It is hard to be motivated to do anything when the weather makes everything feel grey and flavorless. In a hopeful attempt to find a strawberry patch where I can pick my own sun sweetened local berries I looked up when they might come into season. The websites all said the same thing. Berries will be late this year, very, if at all. I just need a little flavor in my life.

Follow The Money

I have tried to not comment too much on politics, but sometimes it is just too overwhelming not too. So if you absolutely adore 45 don’t read any further. Fair warning!

Mueller’s raid on 45’s lawyer, Cohen has almost pushed 45 over the edge. We will see if tonight or as Russ predicts, late Friday night after the news cycles have finished for the week, if Trump fires Deputy attorney General Rod Rosenstein for not firing Mueller. Then he will appoint some puppet who will fire Mueller.

All that is just fuel on the guilt fire to me. If you have nothing to hide, then let the investigation prove your innocence.

Here is the big question I have about Cohen and the whole $130,000 payoff to Stormy Daniels, why did the guy have to take out a home equity line to get the money to do it? First, how could a “successful” NY attorney not have $130,000 at his age? And if he had to borrow the money with no intention of billing his client for it, how was he ever going to pay it back?

Now we know from 45’s own court history that he does not pay people he owes money to. So perhaps he has not paid his lawyer, but then why would the guy go into debt for a guy who does not pay him what he owes him? No one, especially a lawyer goes into debt for a client with no hope for repayment. There is something, not saying what, but something there.

We could have avoided a lot of the problems we have now if we had a law that anyone running for President had to disclose their tax returns. It seems only right that we understand what financial entanglements people have with other entities so that we might understand their motives. There is a good reason why Presidents have to put their money in blind trusts.

Presidents should not be allowed to benefit financially from their office. I am waiting for stock holders to sue the President for tweeting about Amazon and bringing the stock down. It would be one thing if the tweets were factual, but it is even more egregious when they are just not true.

Lord knows what is going to happen, but I am certain it will be unlike anything else we have seen in recent history. I predict the money trial will tell the story. It’s always about the money, unless it’s about sex and in this case it might be about both.

What Will I Do Tomorrow Night?

Tonight was the third of our Church Campaign dinners at our house in four days. My dear friend Sara and my neighbor Jean and I cooked the same food for each dinner to feed members of the congregation who came to hear about giving to redo the fellowship hall. There were a core group of 8 people who are on the campaign committee who came to each dinner and a few dozen others each night.

For the core group it was like Groundhog Day, the movie. Everyone made the same speeches, more or less, we ate the same food and drank the same drinks, but somehow we didn’t tire of it. We had different groups of random people at each night and it was lots of fun. The ages ranged from people in their thirties up to people nearing eighty. Some people were 8:30 church people and others were 11:00. It was just really nice to sit around the table and spend time together, whether you knew each other well or were just meeting for the first time.

Every night after the guests departed, the core group would help do the dishes and clean everything up. The first two nights were easy because we basically just left the bar and the tables and chairs set up ready for the next night.

Since tonight was the last night the folding chairs got put away and the wine glasses went back in their boxes. I don’t have to make pimento cheese appetizers tomorrow or a big pot of rice. I have enough left over rice from each night to open a fried rice food truck tomorrow.

I liked having my house full of friends enjoying dinner every night. It was a little like having a restaurant that only served one meal. I am not quite sure what I am going to do tomorrow night. Maybe I should just start serving dinner one night a week and let random people come and eat here. The randomness of it is the most fun. It was perfect that is is a campaign for the fellowship hall because it was just good fellowship.

Improving Store Bought Pimento Cheese

My aunt Janie Leigh makes great pimento cheese. She taught me her secret which is powdered sugar. Then the Pawleys Island Palmetto Pimento cheese came out. It was decent but not half as good as my Aunt Janie’s.

For these church dinners I am hosting the Campaign Chairman John Graham asked me if I could make some hors d’oeuvre like the blt’s he had eaten at another members house. I knew exactly what he wanted and made up a batch. Now he wants the recipe so I thought I’d share it with everyone, especially if it might get good pledges to our campaign.

Doctored Pimento Cheese

1 12 oz. container of jalapeño Palmetto pimento cheese

1/3 cup mayonnaise

2 T. Powdered sugar

1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese.

3 T. Sweet pickle relish

Mix together and try and not eat it in one setting.

Candied Bacon

Cover a cookie sheet with foil and put a cooling rack on top. Lay bacon on the rack and sprinkle it with brown sugar and a lot of freshly cracked black pepper.

Place in a 400° oven and cook about 15 minutes until done.

Cut each slice of bacon into five squares.

Bread, with crusts cut off, cut into small squares and lightly toasted. I lay all of it on a cookie sheet under the broiler for a few minutes and then flip the brad over and do the same on the other side.

Thinly cut small Campari tomatoes into four or five slices per tomato.

Small basil leaves or large ones cut into thirds.

Spread a little pimento cheese on the toast. Place a square of bacon on top, then a tomato slice and the basil leaf on top.

Pure southern happiness

Fabric Folding Obsession

While I was in the quilting Mecca of Paducah I might have purchased a few bits of quilting fabric. Not so much that I needed an extra suitcase, just as much as would fit on my carry-on. I will admit it was enough that it made my bag almost too heavy to lift into the overhead bin, but not so much that I had to unzip the expansion sides of the suitcase.

Bringing home many new random fabrics meant that I needed to reorganize my quilting fabric stash so I can look at it for inspiration of my next project. Part of reorganizing meant I had to refold each piece so they were all close to the same size.

It is a wintery cold January like day here and Russ, with a sinus headache taking a nap, I had no guilt about locking myself in my sweat shop watching a Netflix series “Escape to the Country,” folding and sorting fabric. It was like a scene out of “Romy and Michelle’s high school reunion” where they are folding scarves, but with English accents.

Now that the fabric is sorted into rainbow colors I realized I have hardly any purple and very little red, but blue is over represented, followed by pink. I am interested in doing a black and white quilt next, but with only one mostly black fabric it might be hard.

Based on how much fabric I have I need to set a “no new fabric rule” until I use up at least half of my stash. I think I am going to making quite a few placemats.

One of Three

For the last few years our church has been doing work on strategic plans that finally facilitated the need for a capital campaign to redo our oldest building, the fellowship hall. As a member of a couple of groups who worked on the plans for the last few years I am in favor of this campaign. I knew that my support meant I would be asked to help with the nuts and bolts of the campaign. Thankfully our minister asked me to host three dinners along with my good friend Sara. This was the perfect job for both of us. We could feed lots of people with our eyes closed and ask them to join us in giving a nice gift at the same time.

Tonight was the first of three dinners we are having at our house in a four day period. Nothing is easier than repeating a dinner once you have everything set up. Tonight we had a large enough crowd that we needed to have the overflow crowd on the terrace. I did my best to clean the pollen up and thankfully it was just warm enough to sit outside in the dark, where no one saw the pollen.

Shay especially liked having the church crowd here. While Chris, our preacher, was giving the pitch to the assembled faithful, Shay went from person to person offering canine comfort. After the asking was done we had a lovely meal. Sara prepared a huge platter of the most perfectly roast vegetables and I made green peppercorn chicken. My neighbor Jean brought two desserts and everyone was happy.

The next dinner is Sunday night and then again on Monday. By then the leadership team who are coming to all these dinners are going to be sick of our menu. Hopefully the other attendees enjoyed themselves enough to make a generous pledge. For the right amount of money I will cook for anyone.

Never Met A Stranger

Sadly my trip to Paducah is coming to an end. I spent four glorious days in the slightly cooler than expected atomic city with my friends Jan, Mary Jo and Deanna. When Jan invited me on this walk through her childhood trip I had no idea that I would also have the pleasure of getting to spend time with so many of her childhood friends, who were just a charming group of people.

Judy and Mary stopped most of their regular lives and ate many meals with us. I peppered them with lots of questions about the area and they were generous with their knowledge and experience. I hope they come to Durham someday so I can show them the same hospitality they showed us.

Today one of Jan’s friends, Owen Kim, who is an official volunteer Paducah city ambassador, took time from his day to give us a private historical tour of lower-town, and the Fountain Ave. area. I feel like Durham needs an ambassador program to help share the good things about our city like they do in Paducah.

Paducah is a UNESCO city for the creative arts. This is an honor shared by only a few cities in the US. The Quilt museum certainly helps with tourism. If it weren’t for these things Paducah might not have survived as a vital place to live since the two largest employers, the Union Carbide Plutonium plant and the Illinois Central railroad works are no longer in business in Paducah.

I think about Danville, Virginia, near where my family farm is, has spiraled down with the closing of Dan River Mills many years ago. There are beautiful buildings and neighborhoods there, but not a lot of vitality. If only Danville could come up with a big idea to draw visitors and business like Paducah.

The one thing that really helped Paducah is the warmth of its citizens. Everyone we met could not have been more welcoming, even if they didn’t know Jan. The one exception was a waiter we had at a very good restaurant. If he worked in Washington DC we wold not think we was so bad, because his service was just fine, but in comparison to the outstanding service and generosity we had everywhere else he stood out as lacking. I also didn’t like that he called me sweetheart in a really condescending way and interrupted a story I was telling to tell his own story that he thought related to mine. Just bring me some water sweetheart and stop eavesdropping.

Farewell Paducah. I will cherish the memories. Thanks, Jan.

When In Paducah…

Before I left on this once in a lifetime trip, my Paducah born and breed friend Lynn told me that the one place I had to visit when I was here was Starnes Barbecue. When I met up with my Paducah born and breed friend Jan, who is acting as my tour guide, she said we absolutely had to eat at Starnes Barbecue. When two people tell you there is one place to go you go there.

Today was Mary Jo’s last day here since she had to go back to Nashville for the impending birth of her daughter’s sixth child so we went to Starnes so she could also enjoy it. Jan’s good high school friend Judy met up with us and the four of us were lucky enough to nab one of the two tables available at the mostly counter seat eatery.

Before we even stepped foot in the door, the smell of the hickory smoke emanating from the institution green building was enticing. Jan tried to prepare me for what barbecue means in Western Kentucky. “It’s pork, but it’s not like North Carolina barbecue. It’s chopped, and has a vinegar and spices sauce, but it’s not like Eastern North Carolina.” I was more confused about what I was about to enjoy than I was before. It didn’t matter because the tasting was eminent.

Not moments after we slid ourselves into the tiny table a friendly young girl leaned in from the servers side of the counter and asked us what we wanted to drink. Of course Jan and I ordered tea and the server asked us if we needed Sweet ‘n Low and lemon with that. I knew right then this was my kind of place, that offers lemon and Sweet ‘n Low as the default.

The only menu was up on the wall behind Jan and within moments I had it memorized. It was not as simple as my favorite movie menu in “ My Cousin Vinnie,” but it was not far off from, “I guess I’ll have lunch.”

We all ordered the same sandwich from the choice of five, going with the pork barbecue for $2.75. We splurged and went for the potato salad for a buck which is clearly where Starnes is making their profit margin, but that tiny cup of potato salad was good. In less than the shake of a possum’s tail our server was back with a toasted sandwich wrapped in wax paper with just the right amount of pork and a smear of well chopped slaw on top. At Jan’s suggestion I added a few drops of the sauce that was in the squeeze bottle on the table.

Lynn and Jan were right as usual. Starnes barbecue was worth the trip. Jan was also correct in that it was indescribable in comparison to North Carolina barbecue. It was slightly less fatty and had a distinct smokey flavor. The sauce gave it just enough spice, but I must admit the toasted white bread made it.

We had many refills of tea and monopolized fifty percent of the tables for a good long time learning more of the salacious history of Paducah. It was better than any Shondra Rhimes script.

After such a good time, I leaned into the servers walkway and asked for the bill. Lunch for four was $18.25. A better deal could not be had east of the Mississippi. When in Paducah Starnes is a must do.

I Swanee

Things are full on Paducah today. At this writing Jan, Mary Jo and I are huddled on the first floor of our cute old fashioned downtown hotel because we are in a tornado warning right now. The weather men on the news are imploring caution, so we moved our cars under the over hang of the performing arts center to help protect them from hail. Hopefully the cops are too busy to give us tickets for this.

Before the excitement of the weather we had a very full day. It started with breakfast at the only downtown breakfast spot the Gold Rush where one of Jan’s best high school friends Judy joined us. It was at breakfast that I learned the local phrase, “I Swanee,” which roughly translated means, “I swear,” or “I declare.” I think I am going to adopt this as one of my own.

After breakfast we finally went to the Mecca of Paducah, the Quilting Museum. It did not disappoint. The quilts on display were incredible works of art, far exceeding anything I would ever dream of attempting. They were inspiring, if not overwhelming. Photos were prohibited so I can not post anything, but trust me they represented billions of hours of work.

From there we had to stop at Hancock’s of Paducah, a giant quilting fabric store. Don’t worry Russ I didn’t get much, but I am thinking about what my next project is going to be.

To add to the excitement of coming to Kentucky we decided to expand our itinerary and venture into Illinois and go to Metropolis across the Ohio River. Anyone my age or older will know that Metropolis is the home of Superman in the fifties TV show. Since Metropolis, IL is the only town named that in America they have erected a giant Superman statue and have a gift store and museum. The Superman was clearly the only good thing happening in Metropolis, but it was still worth the trip.

In the small world where Paducah is the center of the universe I have found out the following information. It’s a little convoluted, but just stay with me. We had Jan’s friend Judy in the car as we went by Lynn Tom’s childhood home, a cool modern home, which is in need of renovation. We asked Judy who lived in it since Lynn’s Dad sold it. She told us that Ron Lucus, a local decorator who had just passed away a year or so ago had.

Yesterday, after my first Paducah blog, my friend David had commented that one of his roommates in DC was from Paducah and I had known him back then. His name, was Ron Lucus, the very same who lived in my friend Lynn’s house. I Swanee, its a small world.

Paducah, Glad I Knew Ya

I don’t think I ever heard of Paducah, Kentucky before I moved to Durham. Why, as a kid who grew up in Connecticut, would I? It is a small city of 25,000 in Western Kentucky at the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio rivers. Nothing about it had any intersection with my life. That was before I moved to Durham.

One of my very first and best friends in Durham, Jan McCallum grew up in Paducah. As we were becoming friends 24 years ago I learned all about her life growing up in this small southern city. Then, not long after I became friends with Jan I met my soul mate Lynn Toms and lo and behold she too was from Paducah. How could this be? Two great friends from the same small town.

I often peppered my friends with questions about growing up in Paducah. I loved the name of Lynn’s favorite restaurant, Beef Masters and Jan’s stories about the library and the summer reading contests. Then there was the National quilting museum. Yes, Paducah is the home of the only museum devoted to this terribly American handicraft.

So once I started quilting last summer Jan demanded that now was the time for me to make a pilgrimage to her home town. So we planned a trip for the first week of April because that sounded like a lovely time to visit and Jan’s friend Mary Jo could come with us.

Getting to Paducah is not easy. I looked into flying here, but two flights over nine hours did not seem the way to go. That is when Jan told me that should fly into Nashville and make the two hours drive. Perfect. Mary Jo, lives just south of Nashville and met us at the airport as Jan flew in from Texas just before I got in from Durham.

So today my introduction to Paducah finally happened live and in person. It was much colder than Kentucky should be in April, but that did not detour us from walking the whole downtown as Jan gave us the native tour.

We started at the flood wall murals where the history of Paducah is painted on the flood wall that protects the city from the rivers. From there we walked miles looking at the downtown buildings which have thankfully not been torn down. One of the best ones we went in was a costume shop that had 35 bunny costumes drying from post Easter cleanings. I’m not sure I had ever even seen a costume shop, let alone been in one. Only in Paducah.

We drove around town, seeing many of the highlights of Jan’s first 18 years. I got to see the place that had once been Lynn’s favorite, Beef Masters, which today is called Muddea’s, a soul food restaurant. Some things in small towns change slower than the rest of the world, like in Paducah they still have an answering service Business. We finished up with dinner downtown after so many laughs and good stories. Tomorrow we will begin the quilting part of this pilgrimage.

I am so glad I have had 24 years of build up before I came here. It makes all the stories I have heard from my friends come to life.

I’m Easter People

Something seems wrong about April Fool’s day and Easter being on the same day. April Fool’s is the most funny and naughty of days and Easter the most joyful. But the joy of Easter has nothing to do with tricking anyone so I had to decide what today was going to be about. Was I going to play a joke on someone or celebrate the resurrection. So I chose to go the serious route.

I am not complaining because after church I got to have a lovely Easter lunch with Russ, my Mom and the family we chose to be with, the Toms and the Ballews. It was wonderful to have Ellis and Evan home for Easter, but it made me miss Carter more. Ellis brought her roommate from college, but Carter should have been with her childhood pals. Soon enough school will be over and she will be back.

In light of my reverence for the day I am reserving the right to postpone April Fool’s pranks. So stay on your toes. You never know when I am going to pull things yet unplanned prank and on whom.

As for today, happy Easter if you are a celebrant. For my Jewish friends, chag sameach. I guess members of the tribe cold pull any April Fool’s pranks either.

Spring Cleaning, We Couldn’t Stop Ourselves

Russ and I had no plans when we woke up this morning on this long awaited beautiful day, but somehow we both fell into some serious spring cleaning. Why, when we had the opportunity to do something fun, did we chose to clean? This leads me to wonder if spring cleaning is a gene that we can’t help.

Russ washed two cars, which was practically a waste because the pollen is starting in earnest. At least Russ was outside enjoying the warm, sunny day. I did many more random chores, like cleaning the hall chandelier, and rearranging books by color.

I also changed out my breakfast room placemats with a set I made from the scraps leftover from my last quilt.

Those chores were unusual ones, but I also scrubbed our bathroom, did laundry and did some cooking for a future event. I could have done those things any day, certainly not on this beautiful day. My only explanation is that I must be hard wired to deep clean something as soon as the weather turns warm. Maybe my caveman me know that once it gets hot I won’t want to do anything.

New Mah Jongg Card At Last

Every year I wait with great anticipation for the New Mah Jongg Card to arrive. April first is the official first day that all Mah Jongg players must give up their old card and start playing the new one.

Since Ruth, the long time president of the National Mah Jongg league, passed away two years ago new family members are in charge. They wrote in the newsletter that there were changes afoot. From my first glance at the new card there is not much improvement to report. Hands changed as they always do. For the past few years winds hands have been somewhat pitiful and sadly they have kept some of the worst of them in this card.

What I do see as changes, are that dragons are used in many more hands as well as flowers and the number 8 is the most valuable number this year. None of this means a hoot to you if you are not a player. For novice players I will be having a new card orientation game on April 12 at my house. All are welcome, just let me know you want to come play and learn so I have enough tables.

This week, as my last hurrah with the old card I had two excellent hands, a quints winner followed by a singles and pairs winner, both of which I drew myself to the dismay of my table. The best one was the singles and pairs one where I had to stop the Charleston after the first round because I only needed one tile to win. Thankfully I was East so I had a tile to discard.

If you want to learn to play this most fun game, let me know. I have some other people who are interested in a beginner’s class. To the players out there, may your year be filled with jokers.

Shay Demands Her Emotional Support Human

Russ went to the office today, like normal. I went to Raleigh for two meetings, not like normal. That meant that Shay was home alone for most of the day. She and I had a good walk before I left and she had some extra chicken with her kibble.

I got home first and she did not bother to leave our bed and come see me. I called to her, nothing. I went up to our room and she stood up on the bed and wagged her tail in a somewhat tepid way. I snuggled her and rubbed her belly and she seemed happy. I asked her to come down with me so I could give her “dinner and a walk,” two words she has shown recognition for in the past. Nada. She didn’t move.

“Come on Shay, come with me.” It took gentle prodding to get her to go downstairs with me. She got food and a visit to the yard. While we were in the kitchen I heard the garage door open. So did Shay. She ran to the stop of the stairs to the garage and wiggled her butt in excitement. The door opened, she stood on her hind legs and shook her whole self as if she was doing the hokey pokey and then turned her self around.

Russ cold barley get up the stairs before Shay had launched herself into his arms.

“How can you leave me all day?” She asked him with her eyes. “I think you should be required to take me everywhere because you are my emotional support human. It is for my mental health that you are always with me.”

It makes perfect sense. If humans can need emotional support animals, why can’t animals need emotional support humans? Shay can make a good case for it.

Want a New Job?

Have you ever wanted to work at the White House? Seems like you could have a crack at it this year if you just flatter the president. Today the Veterans Affairs secretary is out and his White House doctor who said about the president after his physical, “he has great genes, he can live to be 200,” is in.

Someone with good hyperbole skills and a certain amount of blindness about his potential boss could get a job at the White House. Since he took office the following people have been fired or resigned, Sally Yates, Micheal Flynn, Angella Reid, James Comey, Mike Dubke, Walter Shaun, Sean Spicer, Michael Short, Reince Priebus, Anthony Scaramucci, Steve Bannon, Sebastian Gorka, Tom Price, Dina Powell, Omarosa Manigault Newman, Rob Porter, Josh Rafael, Hope Hicks, Gary Cohn, John McEntee, Rex Tillerson, Andrew McCabe, H.R. McMaster, and now Shulkin. These are just the important high level people. There have to be others who go unreported. That’s 24 major advisors or secretaries.

At this rate you have a chance to be hired, especially if you ever served a Trump in any way. Like the former caddie, Dan Scavino, who is Trump’s social media assistant now. I wonder if he does most of his work at three in the morning when those Trump tweets come out.

So if you ever served Trump a cup of coffee at a Howard Johnson’s, or pressed his shirts at a local laundry, or washed his car, there is a job for you at the White House. And not some job serving coffee. Don’t worry if you are not qualified, Betsy DeVos has proven that is not an issue.

Speaking of DeVos, with all the firings, how is she still holding on? Sarah Huckabee Saunders is doing a good job keeping her job, because she has mastered keeping a straight face when she speaks. My favorite meme I saw the other day was a picture of a distressed SHS with the line, “Why don’t you look at me the way you look at Stormy? I tell lies for you.”

Oh, the revolving door at the White House. Too bad the 45 is not taking a spin in it.

One note to those Trump lovers who read this blog. Forget messaging me with your sincere rebuttals. This is comedy, something you don’t usually get.

Leek and Sweet Potato Soup

I love Trader Joe’s. It isn’t that big a store so I can spend some time looking for ingredients I think are a good buy. This past week I was pursuing the frozen vegetable aisle. Frozen vegetables can be a great savings and you often get things frozen at their peak. I don’t bother to look at the medleys, or prepare foods, although they can be yummy. I just look for the one ingredient bags.

This week I found cleaned and chopped leeks for $1.99 for about three cups. Compared to fresh leaks at $4 for the same amount, which would need to be cleaned and chopped I opted for the frozen versions. Since leeks have to be cooked there was no reason not to try the frozen one which looked pristine in the clear plastic bag.

Now came the issue of what to make with my newly found treasure? I opted for a soup and rather than making a traditional leek and potato soup I went rouge and bought sweet potatoes and a can of reduced fat coconut milk. Sweet potatoes are much healthier for you so I thought I could make a soup that would satisfy all the dietary requirements of a meal. This ended up being vegan because I was out of chicken broth and if you leave off the bacon crumbles as a garnish.

1 large yellow onion chopped

2 shallots minced

2 bags of Trader Joe’s leeks- about 6 cups

1 T. Coconut oil or butter

4 med/large sweet potatoes

1 15 oz can of reduced fat coconut milk

2 T salt

1/2 t ground sage

1 t. Thyme

2 dried red chili peppers

1 t. Ginger

Fresh ground pepper

Bacon crumbles and fried onions for garnish and few grinds of fresh nutmeg.

Preheat oven to 400°.

Cover a cookie sheet with foil and put washed sweet potatoes on the foil and prick with a fork. Bake the potatoes for about 40 minutes. Set aside to cool enough for you to scoop the flesh out of the skins.

In a big stock pot put the oil or melt the butter over medium heat. Add the onions, shallots and leeks and look for fifteen minutes. Stir every once in a while. Add the spices and about two cups of water and bring to a simmer. Add the flesh of the potatoes and cook for another ten minutes.

Add the coconut milk and purée the contents of the pot with a immersion blender. Take for spice and salt balance and add what Is needed.

Serve with garnishes of your choice. I used all of them.

For the Love of Monkeys

I blame Russ’ infatuation with monkey’s on Marcel on the TV show Friends. If he could have a monkey like a Ross Russ would. I don’t know if it is that they have such similar names and both love science, but Russ really loves monkeys.

When Carter was a wee infant Russ would do the monkey wave like Marcel, you know, holding his hand under his chin and waving. He did it very often to Carter and said, “Monkey,” and Carter would mimic back at him.

When Carter got old enough to pick out her own father’s day cards for Russ she always went with the monkey card. It was just their thing. A monkey and his daughter. So when Carter went to the Bonnaroo music Festival last June what did she come home with? No, not a real monkey, but an original print of a monkey. Who knew they sold art at music festivals?

Russ loved it. I promised I would get it framed and then I forgot. The Monkey got lost in my office until one day last month Russ found it. While she was home on spring break Carter took it to get framed and I picked it up for Russ today. The mad monkey professor is going to his office to hang behind his desk so when he is on video calls the monkey can watch over the callers. I just hope Russ won’t take to signing off of those calls with the monkey wave. It seems that it is something special just between himself and Carter.

Team Dinner Pork Carnitas

Russ invited his company teammates for dinner at our house tonight. When the date was picked we didn’t know that Duke would be playing basketball at the time of the dinner. I decided to have a taco bar for dinner so that it could keep until the game was over. In planning what to have I put on the bar I chose pork Carnitas. Although I have never eaten it anywhere else I liked what I read in various recipes.

As is the case in all my cooking, once I had read a few recipes I set them aside and went about ad-libing. I have no idea if they turned out very authentic, but then were yummy.

4 lb pork shoulder with plenty of fat (often called Boston butt) cut into 2 inch cubes

1 10 oz. bottle of mango juice

Juice and zest of an orange

Juice and zest of a lime

2 T. Ground cumin

2 T. Oregano

3 cups chicken stock

Salt and pepper

Put everything in a Dutch oven and set on a medium heat and bring the liquid to a simmer. Let the pot stay uncovered on the stove for three hours. If the liquid runs out before the time is up add some water.

At the three hour point the liquid should be gone and now the pork should start to brown in the fat that has rendered from it. You need to stir it every three to four minutes so it does not stick. Cook the pork about twenty more minutes, until brown.

Serve with warmed corn tortillas, creama, marinated cabbage, cilantro and any other fixings.

The Rise of The Young, Again

When I worked with my Dad is marketing there was one phrase he said very often, “the young will eat the old.” It is not as cannibalistic as it sounds, but it basically means that youth are the deciders. You have to appeal to young people if you want to survive.

Some generations of young people are bigger deciders than other. Like the hippies of the sixties. They changed things faster than the generation before them. Why? Because they became united against establishment and the war in Vietnam that was sending young men to a non-sensical war and either killing them or sending them home hooked on drugs. It was the young people who fought the government to end the war. And the government was mostly a group of old white men.

History repeats itself over and over and now we are seeing the rise of the young again, fighting an old white man president and the old white men cronies in the NRA. Why? Because the young people are being killed in their schools.

No one should doubt the power of young people united for a good cause because they are smarter, more vigilant and less beat down than the old farts they are fighting. Trump might be the best thing that has happened to the future of this country because his “old man, I know best, lack of compassion” ways have awakened the rancor in the young people who are calling bullshit on the “thoughts and prayers” politicians who have taken the NRA’s money and sold their souls.

The young people are demanding not just a conversation about change, which the politicians have refused to even try and have, but are saying if you won’t talk about common sense gun control we will change you. I have great hope for the future of the country because young people are now mad and getting involved.

It started with the women’s march. Which was a lot of women who were rightfully mad, but not really organized for just one issue. Now the Parkland shooting was the last straw and gun control is going to drive a lot of change because the youth want to live and they are taking matters into their own hands.

Listening to these high school students speak so articulately about common sense things shows that activism is alive and can change the world. Go on, young people, you eat the old.

After the Dust Has Settled

It’s the day after the big Food Bank Chef’s Feast and while I cleaned the house today and got back to the unexciting life of not having a captive audience to talk to, I reflected on last night. I had so many interesting conversations with people who came to support the Food Bank, hear Vivian Howard and eat some damn good food. Along the way they learned a little bit about our mission and opened their hearts and checkbooks.

As I was dusting I remembered one conversation in particular. Right after I came off the stage at the end a young woman came up and said, “I just want to meet you and say thank you,” and tears started streaming down her face.

“I am sorry, I don’t mean to be crying.”

I put my hand on her shoulder and told it was alright. “Tell me your story.”

She told me that she had been a teacher and that she knew so well that many of her students were always hungry. “Thank you for telling these people about the kids. People just don’t know what it is like for them.”

I asked her name, which of course in my old age I can’t remember now, but I gave her a hug and thanked her for coming and telling me her story. The pain of being with children who, through no fault of their own, are hungry had stayed with her. She no longer is a teacher, but she has a kind of PSTD from that part of her life. She ended our talk by thanking me again and again for the work the Food Bank does.

It is humbling for me to be thanked, when I am just one of the thousands of volunteers who aid the hard working staff. It truly is the greatest honor in my life.

I got a message from the powers that be that we raised over $134,000 last night. More than just the money, it was great to spread the message about hunger and how prevalent it is in our community.

As I watched the president on TV today talking about the billions of dollars in the new budget for defense, tanks, submarines, planes and the such I was saddened that he had not word to say about how we might spend our tax dollars feeding children or any of the other things that go towards a brighter future.

I see that my work will never be done until everyone in North Carolina has a job with a living wage and can buy their own food.

Just as I am writing this some flowers arrived as a thank you for last night. They are beautiful, but please don’t send me flowers, feed the children.

My Very Favorite Kind Of Day

Some people love their Birthday, some love their vacation days, some love Christmas, but my very favorite day is one where I get to be the auctioneer for the Food Bank Chef’s Feast. Today was that day and it was just awesome.

Four fabulous Chefs, Vivian Howard, of the Chef and the Farmer, Andrew Williams of Fearrington House, Billy Cotter of Dashi and Phoebe Lawless Of Scratch all came together to made a most wonderful dinner for 270 of my nearest and dearest old and new friends at the Fearrington Barns. Jay Harris donated the beer pairings and Johnson Brothers donated the wine pairings. Everyone was very happy with the yummy food and delicious drink. Just the perfect set up for me to take the stage and part people from their money for a very good cause.

Each of the chef’s donated something for us to auction on top of donating all their talent cooking. The audience was thoughtful and attentive and did not disappointment me with lots of active bidding. Each chef experience went for between double and quadruple its value so I call that a good win.

Then audience had a break from me so that a woman from one of our partner agencies that has a food pantry could enlighten the audience about what it is like to really not know where your next meal was coming from. As soon as she was done was my time pounce to make the really big bucks for the Food Bank, the “raise the paddle” opportunity for people to just give money because they want to. It was a pure love fest. In the end we raised over 900,000 meals.

Thanks to all the people who came tonight. To those who bid and those who raised their paddle. Nothing makes me happier than offering people a chance to help their neighbor and have a lot of fun at the same time.

I have to give a big shout out to Fearrington who donated the space, all the equipment and table set ups and most importantly their staff. I also have to thank the talented and generous Food Bank Staff who made sure all the behind the scenes work ran smoothly, even though so many of them happen to be very pregnant right now. It was a very successful night and I am happy that we introduced so many new friends to the good work the Food Bank does.

What To Do About An Obsession?

The first thing I must do is admit I am powerless. The tug on me to my sewing machine is stronger than I am. Today I did leave my house and go to the gym. I also had friends over for five hours and I played Mah Jongg and fed them lunch which I made. I did a load of laundry and made the bed and cleaned the house. That is my rationalization that it is also OK that I spent the better part of the afternoon in my sweat shop making the tops for a half dozen new quilted placemats. This after I made two baskets yesterday and a pieced quilt back the day before.

I am not ignoring doing normal life things, but I feel this draw to create something new and useful everyday. I could blame this never ending cold weather since I am warm and cozy in my sweat shop. I have been rewatching the entire “Call the midwife” series during the making of this last quilt and other projects, but it that is not my reason for going down to sew.

Maybe I could just go down stairs and iron. If I really wanted to be productive in my sweat shop I could take in ironing. Russ could stop taking his shirts to the laundry and I could fill the bathtub with starch and start doing them myself.

I am a little worried that at the rate I produce things I could have the whole house covered in quilted items in a year or two. Maybe I could quilt a dog bed for Shay, or an ottoman for Russ. Seems like I need to find a new obsession. If only my knee and foot felt well enough for me to take up marathon walking. I could turn into that lady in the neighborhood who seems to walk night and day. I am yet to master sewing while walking.

Where’s Spring?

OK Mother Nature, we get it, you are clearly in charge. Obviously you are unhappy with us humans about the way we are treating you planet, so you re torturing us. Today is supposedly the first day of spring, but at 41 degrees in Durham, I hardly call that spring. With snow in the forecast for tomorrow I am practically giving up.

Of course we don’t have it as bad here as Carter does in Boston. She is due to get her fourth nor’easter. When she chose to go to Northeastern, we had no idea they had officially changed the name of the school to nor’easter. And just because it has Easter in the name does not mean it should happen on Easter.

I am sick of the cold. Shay is sick of the wet. The is very little spring in her step. Every time I open the door she just looks up at me and gives me the, “you know I don’t go out in the cold and wet” face. I’m sorry sweet puppy, if I could change the weather I would and I would do it for free.

So Mother Nature, let us know what we should do to make you happy. Stop hunting big game animals in Africa, stop drilling for oil off the coast, stop the dismantling of the EPA, stop loosening regulations on air pollution. I know exactly what you are mad at Mother Nature. Rather than punishing all of us for ignoring climate change can you just target the one who is doing all this too our earth?

Using Data Is Nothing New

Today Facebook’s stock went down 12% and the Dow went down over 300 points on the news that Cambridge Analytica might have used their user base to target posts to get them to vote for Trump. Now, I don’t like that people fall for targeted posts without first vetting their validity, but the fact that a company may have used data to target people is nothing new. There is no reason for the stock market to go down because of it.

For as long as there have been customers, businesses have been analyzing what, where, when and how they buy stuff and particularly why do they buy other guy’s stuff and not ours. Politicians are the ultimate product. They want us to buy them. There have been consultants to sell us politicians forever.

When I worked in Canada I used to analyze data about long distance phone users all the time. It seems so quaint now that we don’t pay for long distance, but back in the dark ages it used to cost lots of money to make a “long distance call.” My whole childhood every phone call my my grand parents started like this, “hurry, run get your father we are calling long distance.” Not even a “hello.” It was even worse when we lived in London and they would call from North Carolina, “GET your father.” See calling internationally practically needed a mortgage.

So in my analyzing data days, my favorite bit of detective work was “Why is the greatest international long distance traffic between Japan and Prince Edward Islands?” Prince Edward Islands, known as PEI, was the smallest Canadian Province with not much going on. Figuring out from the data alone made me wonder if there was a huge drug ring, or big time sushi grade tuna being black marketed.

When I could no longer come up with reasons for this traffic pattern, which was wildly profitable to my client, I did the old fashion kind of research. I called some of the numbers in PEI that had the most Japanese callers and asked them why? Turns out, they were mostly Bed and Breakfast establishments that were close to where the fictional Anne of Green Gables lived. See the Japanese were obsessed with Anne of Green Gables and many a honeymoon was spent on PEI.

This was not something that the data alone could tell you. In fact, in a million years I could not have guessed that. But once I knew it, I was able to use the data to help create calling plans to maximize selling phone services to PEI customers.

So please don’t sell your stock because you have the awful realization that data is being used to sell people. We all know that plenty of people got “sold” on Trump, but it is not the data’s fault. He just used it better. But like all sales schemes there is one truism, “buyer beware.”

Carolina Consolation Pork Meatballs

Russ took two boneless pork chops out of the freezer yesterday. Since I was watching basketball all afternoon and working in my sweat shop I forgot to think about cooking them. While I was screaming at the TV as the Texas A&M Aggies were killing the Tar Heels I decided to speed up the cooking time by turning the pork chops into meatballs.

My team may have been playing their worst, but at least our dinner was good.

2 nice sized boneless pork chops

1 medium onion

1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs

2 T. milk

1 egg

2 T. Dijon mustard

1 t. Rubbed sage

1 t. Fennel seeds- toasted

1 t. Salt

1/4 t. Red pepper flakes

Few ground grinds of the pepper grinder.

Cut the pork into inch sized chunks and put in the Cuisine-art and pulse until well chopped. Add all the other ingredients and pulse a few more times until mixed.

Form into golf ball sized meatballs. Place in medium high non-stick pan and cook on each side until browned and then turn. Once you have browned on all sides turn the heat down to low and cover the pan and continue cooking for ten more minutes.

I made a sweet and sauce sauce that we drizzled on top.

Sauce

Equal parts chili sauce, Dijon mustard and grape jelly (or any jelly you have). Heated I. The microwave until the jelly is melted into the sauce.

These were a good consolation to a rather terrible basketball game.

Contradiction Weekend

It’s the start of March Madness. If you are not a college basketball devotee you might have thought that today was just St. Patrick’s day. Yes, it is both of those things. Locally if you aren’t into watching basketball or drinking green beer there were a number of things going on that were clearly planned to attract the rest of the population.

One of those things was a Quilt show at the state fair grounds. Yes, I was planning on watching basketball, but I could fit in going to the quilt show first thing in the morning before the games got started. Russ, begged off going to the show, which was very funny since I wasn’t going to ask him to go. As I drove into the fair grounds I saw a sign for a Cat Show. Certainly, those people don’t care a thing about basketball and thus, this was the perfect weekend for their show. I also saw a sign for Raleigh Comic Con, again, probably not basketball fans.

I have never been to a quilt show, but was not surprised that I ran into my best quilting friend Francis as I was going in. She is big in the quilt world and she introduced me to the Modern quilt guild, which I joined while I was there.

I spend a little time looking at the entires in the juried quilt show. It was no surprise that I was impressed with the skill, but overall most of them did not call me to because they were either too traditional or not my color palette.

What I really went to the show was to look at the vendors. I was able to test out a number of machines I wanted to try and it was a lot easier to test many different brands in one place than going from store to store. I am surprised that just in Raleigh/Cary there are five or six different sewing machine stores. How many people are quilting and how often do they buy a machine?

These things are major investments and not to be undertook lightly, at least for me. I think I have to spend a few years researching any future purchase.

Luckily the quilt show was not that big a time suck so I was able to get home and start the basketball watching, which means needlepointing too. I love March madness. I am not a one school basketball fan. I love a good Cinderella story and am happy to watch teams I have never even heard of. I knew that University Of Maryland had a Baltimore Campus, but had no idea they played any sports until they broke my bracket last night.

Although I am not celebrating St. Patrick’s day in anyway, I am enjoying in partaking in other weekend offerings. I may be a huge nerd going to a quilt show, but at least I did not also go to the cat show or comic con. Sorry feline lovers and super hero worshipers.

Spring Inspiration

I started my latest quilt in February when we were having an unusually warm winter, which I hoped was an early spring. Inspired by the warm weather and sunny days I created a spring colors quilt. Then March came and winter came roaring back. It was cold, wet and cruel. Despite the bitterness I hunkered down and was warmed by the happy colors on this quilt.

Today I finished making the top just as spring seemed to pop out all over our house. Although these photos did not inspire me in creating this quilt, I feel they have come out to celebrate it.

I am awaiting the delivery of some material I am using to make a pieced backing for the quilt, but can hardly wait to deliver it all to my longarm quilter who is my partner in designing an more intricate quilting pattern to finish this work.

Happy Spring.

Things They Should Tell You When You Take a Baby Home From The Hospital

With all the identity theft issues going on today I signed up for fraud protection for myself and tried to do the same for Carter. Doing it for myself was no problem, but I was unable to do it for Carter. When the online application was turned down by the automated system I called the phone number I was instructed to call to do it on the phone.

Six phone calls and three transfers to different departments I finally got to the bottom of the question, “Why can’t my nineteen year old daughter get fraud protection?” In order to be protected you must first have a credit rating. If you have no credit no one will protect you if you are an adult.

Here is the real rub, if you are a parent of a minor you can get your child fraud protection to protect their future credit, because stealing children’s identity is a big business for crooks, but once you turn 18 you are on your own. Why can they protect children without a credit rating, but not an 18 year old? And how many 18 year olds earn enough on their own to get a credit card or take out a loan?

While I was discussing this issue with Carter she said, “I should just buy a house.” I laughed and told her that without a credit rating she couldn’t even do that unless she went in with all cash to do it.

Carter has had a debit card for school, thinking that was the safest way to teach her about managing money and so far she has done a great job budgeting. Now I have to get her a credit card so she can get a credit rating so she can get fraud protection so she can protect her credit rating. This whole thing is crazy.

I long for the days when I got my monthly allowance check in college from my parents and I just paid cash for things and if I ran out of money I just didn’t buy anything. Life was so much easier. I just wish there was a parenting handbook they gave you at the hospital that told me this stuff.

Hobby Love

Being a hobby obsessive person is so frustrating. Not that I am frustrated by my many hobbies, just that there are not enough hours in the day to do them all. My life is jammed packed with needlepoint, Mah Jongg, bridge and most recently quilting. And I love doing all those things, but there is a huge list of other things I want to try or get back to. There are just not enough hours in the day and so many ideas swirling through my head.

This quilting obsession is bad. As soon as my Mah Jonggers left my house today I went right down to my sweat shop where I am getting close to finishing the top of my favorite and biggest quilt so far. Working in very large format makes it even more difficult because I don’t have enough room to spread it all out except on the floor of my big room.

I love my sweat shop. It is cozy, bright and comfortable, but I dream of having a room three times its size with a very tall blank design wall where I could lay out things I am designing. I don’t do this quilting for a living and can’t justify commandeering more space in my house to do it.

I know I am obsessed because I completely lose track of time while I am doing it. I first recognized this trait when I was in college. As an art major I spent a lot of time doing photography. Once I learned to develop my own photos I would spend hours locked in the dark room working. It was practically the only thing that made me forget about eating. I remember working on one project where I went in the dark room first thing in the morning, which at the time was in a small White House near the library so very few people were ever there, and being shocked that it was dark when I came out.

Today, as I was creating the border for this new quilt, I had that same experience. Since I was making this quilt up as I went along It took a lot of math to make the pieces fit together perfectly. I was lost in the processes and after four hours I looked at my watch and realized I had to stop to go to a meeting. If I weren’t such a rule follower I might have skipped the meeting and just kept working. Thank goodness one personality trait counter acts the other.

Sadly, when I actually get tired and take a break I have Pinterest and you tube to peruse to look at other people’s work that mirror my hobbies. Someday I need to get a laundry or exercise obsession.

HIPPA Like Rules Needed For White House HR

Over the years I have had the privilege to serve on on a number of HR/personnel committees for various organizations and businesses. Almost all of them, both for and non-profit alike worked on the same simple principle, the golden rule. You know the golden rule, treat others as you would like to be treated. This did not mean that if someone was not right for the job they were in, you just left them there, but you always let them go with some dignity.

If you didn’t treat people right, there could have been hell to pay, via labor laws, or really bad reputations in the hiring world.

Today’s tweet from the current holder of the White House letting Rex Tillerson know that he was being replaced seems to break every good HR practice. Yes, everyone working for the POTUS serves at his pleasure, but come on, have the decency to tell the guy directly and not publicly after he had been flying all night from Africa.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not a Tillerson fan. I think he will go down as one of the worst Secretary’s of State by the way he decimated the agency with many posts unfilled and cut the budget 30%. Then again, he could only do so much given the boss he had. He joined the devils team and the devil speared him.

The current POTUS says he likes the revolving door in his office, and that there are “huge” numbers of qualified people banging at the door to fill his staff positions. Not that there is any evidence that he is actually getting them to take the jobs. What he doesn’t get is that when you lack any real Human Resource rules and fire people via Tweet, you are scaring off anyone not delusional to take your open positions.

Seems like we need HIPPA like laws about some sort of privacy in hiring and firing at the White House. You got to tell the guy face to face he is being shown the door before you announce it to the world.

The guy I really pity is Tillerson’s number two guy who got fired today because he reported that Tillerson found out via Twitter. If you are going fire someone in a Tweet, don’t get mad when someone says that’s what you did. And how about that last line in the tweet, “congratulations to all.” I’m not sure Tillerson feels like being congratulated.

The rest of the country has employment laws that we have to follow, maybe the President should have to follow them too.

The Effing One-Two Punch

Today is International Napping Day, for good reason. It is the first weekday after daylight savings time. This springing backwards is twice as bad as falling forward, so they don’t really equal each other out. The mess that daylight savings time causes cannot out weigh whatever it was started for. We are no longer a majority agricultural society so we should not have to artificially move our clocks anymore. Let’s go ahead and do away with the time change.

So if the time change wasn’t bad enough today, here in Durhan North Carolina, we are having the cruelest thing of all, a March snow storm. February was unusually warm, and so far March has been equally unusually cold. I am not happy about this cold, but it is still better than the 18 inches predicted for Carter in Boston. Post spring break snow days really should not happen. Her classes for tomorrow have already been canceled. At least she can sleep in to catch up on spring forward sleep mess.

Shay is the most unhappy about the whole thing. She refuses to go out in rain or snow. She is confused by the time change and why her people are getting up too early and she is mad that she can’t tell time so she can scream at the clock that it is wrong and we all should still be in bed. In protest of both the time change and the weather she has napped all day.

Dogs have it right. Maybe all the congressional dogs can convince their owners to stop the time change. It seems like a completely non-partisan issue that might make it seems like they are actually producing legislation. I am certain they are not going to take any action on climate change even though it is fairly certain have it. I think I need a nap to get over this.

Bad Cold Timing

Last night before we were to go out for our farewell dinner I noticed that the heating ducts were putting out cold air. I checked the furnace and sure enough the heating part was not working, although the blower was. A call to the furnace company with whom we have a contract and a promise to come out last night.

That was too good to be true. We go another call saying they could come first call in the morning between 8:30 and 10:30. I’m not sure if daylight savings time had anything to do with it, but the guy showed up at 10:45. The good news was he replaced the igniter, which got us warmth, but reported new needed all five burners replaced and he didn’t have them on his truck.

This particular furnace is ten years old. Furnaces should last at least fifteen years I am told. It is amazing how the engineers were so good at designing planned obsolescence that they could have all the burners go out at exactly the time.

Growing up we had a seventy year old furnace that was like the pet Spot, in the old TV show the Munsters that lived under the steps and breathed fire. Our furnace had its own room that housed the giant iron fire box where we could see the fire through a big window. It was so big that when my parents added on to our house they did not need to add another furnace because our iron Spot had extra capacity. Of course it burned oil at an unfriendly rate, but then again it never had to be replaced or rarely fixed. It just worked and worked.

Boy do I miss Spot. I have no idea how bad replacing five burners is going to be, but it can’t be good.

Last Night Home

Carter’s break comes to an end tomorrow when she flys back to Boston. It seems like she just got home and now it’s time to do her laundry and send her back. But back is just for a little more than six weeks and then Freshman year will be in the books.

That thing about time flying is so true, except when you are at the doctor’s office, or are a four year old waiting for Christmas. It seems like yesterday that I was crying as we left Carter at the airport to fly off to Berlin for first semester.

I am ever so thankful she has her summer plans all worked out so when she gets home from school she wastes no time getting right to work. When I was in college all my mother used to talk about was, “have you gotten a summer job yet?” She was absolutely right. The worst thing about being a college student is coming home to live with your parents for the summer. You have had all the freedom of college and suddenly you have parents again who want to know where you are going and when you will be home.

Having Carter for break was the perfect amount of time. Long enough to get to catch up, but not too long to really annoy each other. We went out to dinner for her last night even though she said after we made the plans that she wanted a good home cooked meal. That will have to be her brunch before the airport. Dropping her off won’t be as sad since she will be back before my birthday.

Thankfully Russ and I have totally turned Shay into the second baby. The best thing is she won’t go to college and leave us, she will just always be the baby, as will Carter.

Food Sensing

For years and years I thought Russ’ worse sense was that of smell. He always was bringing me the bottle of milk, “Is this still good?” There was no rhyme nor reason to his asking me. Sometimes I could smell the sour milk coming from two rooms away and sometimes it was perfectly good, but he could not distinguish the difference.

“Is this still good to eat?” He would ask me holding a container of something homemade and thus had no expiration date, I could never say, “Smell it.” If that was the standard he would often be eating something that could potentially become a new antibiotic.

As his eye sight diminished Russ had to depend on me even more to more to suss out a spot of mold that had grown on something. This I understood, and as his eyes and nose, I was happy to vet his food choices from our refrigerator. I did want to keep him alive, even if he could not identify sour milk. Try as I might, he never developed the sense of touch to tell if the spring mix us too soft, or slimy and thus time to be thrown away.

So with smell, sight and touch out and hearing food has never been a reliable thing as far as spoilage is concerned, Russ needed me. Then he had his eyesight restored. I thought I might be out of the food detective business.

Apparently not. Tonight Russ held up two bags, both holding arugula and asked me if they were good. I said they both were edible and he should eat the bag from the farmers market, but to wash it first. He put some in a bowl and poured dressing on it without washing it.

“I told you to wash it first.”

“I didn’t hear that.”

I guess that when it comes to food, Russ only has one sense, taste. Since he likes things really spicy or tangy, even that is not a good indicator for edibleness.

Christmas in March

I finished my Mom’s Christmas present quilt last week and held it until Carter was home to take it to the farm for her. It was the biggest quilt I have made measuring something like 108” x 115”. My mom picked out the materials and the basic idea of the pattern.

Making such a big project has its challenges. The first being making sure it is squared up, meaning that the sides are equal. Tina, my long arm quilter who does the quilting part of the project complimented me on the squareness of the quilt. Her opinion is very important to be because first, she is a professional and second, if there is any unevenness in the quilt it shows during the quilting process.

Russ particularly liked this quilt as did both my parents, so I am happy that my belated Christmas present was met with such smiles. At this point in life, making presents is so much more meaningful than buying things that people can buy for themselves.

Thanks to Carter for making the drive to the farm with me today. We had lunch with her grandparents at a relatively new and good Thai restaurant in Danville. It is such a dying town that it is a good when something new opens and succeeds. On the way back to the farm we stopped at midtown market to get chicken salad and on our way out of the tiny market five old women, who were not together, came in the store. They were a good representation of who lives up there. I guess now that I am a quilter I would fit right in in the aging Danville.

Now that I have made my parents two king sized quilts I am going to have to come up with something new to make them for next Christmas. There is so little they need or want. I wonder if I could learn to make a car by then?

Women Rule In Black Panther

Since Carter is home and most of her friends are not she asked Russ and I if we wold go to see Black Panther with her tonight. I am not much of a comic book movie person, but I was happy to spend time with Carter.

Knowing nothing about the Marvel family of super hero’s I had no idea about the story of Black Panther so I was pleasantly surprised about the strong female characters in this story. There is a good reason why this is such a box office hit. Not only is a good African story, but it is also a fabulous feminist one as well. The smartest people in the film are the women, especially Black Panther’s little sister who is the tech genius. What a great role model for all girls.

There is certainly something for most people to love in this well done movie, except for maybe the current resident at the White House. The last line of the movie takes direct aim at him when the Black Panther, speaking at the United Nations, says “We need to build bridges, not barriers.” Made me love the movie even more.