Star Trek : The Newest Movie

Oh my word. Oh my word. I just found out that all the original Star Trek series can be watched online. As I write this post, I'm watching Turnabout Intruder Episode 79.

A couple of weeks ago, dh took me out on a date as thanks for the hard work I've been doing for him and the business. It's kind of stressful going out since we don't really like eating out that much. I'm often disappointed with the meal, especially if I eat too much.

But it seems to be the socially acceptable thing to do, so we decided to go out and try again, and dh asked if I wanted to go see a movie. He doesn't really like to go see movies, he considers them a waste of time. Precious time that could be spent doing other things. Well, anyway, since he was offering I looked in the paper he'd handed me and found that Star Trek was showing.

He never really cared much for Star Trek either. You know, waste of time. ;-)

I remember when I was 15 years old watching Star Trek. My siblings and I loved it. We'd play Star Trek, I'd play Spock and display no emotions. Dee Elle would play Dr. McCoy. I think. Or would she play Captain Kirk. ;-)

I think my most favorite, after the original series was The Next Generation, I watched every episode. Deep Space Nine was good. Voyager was gret. I never got to see all the Enterprise series, although Scott Bakula is one of my favorite actors. I really loved him in Quantum Leap.

I really liked the Star Trek movie. Okay, if you're going to see the movie and don't want it spoiled, turn back now.

Spoiler space...

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Okay, so I really liked the movie. I did however, think it was bordering on sacriledge to have Mr. Spock and Lt. Uhura involved romantically. That would NEVER have happened on the starship Enterprise.

It was great to see each cast member arrive in the movie. Dr. McCoy/Bones... Chekov, Scotty... it was fun remembering who was who. I feel that the new movie would mean the most if you had watched the original series. Which by the way, came out in the 60s! I was watching reruns in 1979.

I wasn't impressed with Mr. Spock in the movie, he was too baby faced, and way too emotional. But then again, the movie was operating on the aspect of "alternate reality".

Oh boy, Mr. Spock is under arrest for mutiny in Episode 79. Ah, that sure was great. I wish I had more time to watch all the original shows. Somehow I've got to make more time to have fun.

Until next time.

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It's Amazing How Fast Times Flies - Memories from 2004 - Part II

More memories from 2004...

On Easter Sunday, in April 2004, our dogs dug up a cottontail bunny nest. Dh brought the little critters with their eyes shut tight in a wheelbarrow and knocked on my bedroom window. He didn't know what they were. We estimated them to be six days old since their eyes were sealed shut.


I did some research and found that it's not true that the momma will abandon them if you touch them, but you have to put them back and leave them alone. The momma only visits them in the morning and in the evening, so the experts said. We put them back in their nest and secured it so the dogs couldn't get into it. We checked the next morning to find that two little bunny tummies were full, and the other's tummy was very empty. By the next morning, only one bunny had a full tummy, so we ended up bringing them in the house. Here they are at 9 days old.

I looked and looked for a "bunny rehabber" because the experts said you can't raise a baby bunny on your own, you have to have someone who knows what they are doing. But the bunny rehabber's phone number had been disconnected. Since I'd raised abandoned kittens in the past, I had an idea what had to be done. With the information I'd found on the 'net as to how much to feed and how often, I started to take care of them. We had to help them potty by gently wiping their bottoms with a warm, wet washcloth.

Between dh and I, we helped them learn to eat from a dropper. We gave them raw goat's milk. I lost the one that hadn't had a meal for the longest, the one with the empty tummy that next morning. Apparently the momma stops in to nurse the babies and if one has crawled away from where she expects it to be, it doesn't get a meal at that feeding. The other two thrived. Here's "Bunny Bunny" at 17 days old. Isn't he tiny? He was so adorable. The other was named Squinty Eyes. Squinty Eyes never liked the humans quite as much as Bunny Bunny did.

The experts say you have to start putting the baby bunnies out in their natural environment by the time they are about 4 weeks old, or they will become too reliant upon the humans caring for them. So we made the two bunnies a safe place to adapt to being outdoors.

Pretty soon they were making their way out of this "safe" area and around to other parts of the yard. Bunny Bunny continued to come back and visit us when we'd call him for several weeks. Here he is at 56 days old. We would call "Here Bunny Bunny" and he'd come running to get what we had for him to eat. We'd bring carrots some days, greens from the garden on others.

Here he is walking toward dh, showing no fear of the human.


Eventually Bunny Bunny moved to the property next door and it was so funny when we'd call him and then throw a carrot over. All the other cottontail bunnies would scramble madly, running and hiding, while Bunny Bunny would come running over to pick up the carrot and then run off with it. He came to visit us for many months, and then he would only show up every other day, then every few days and after a while he never came when we called. We figured our Bunny Bunny was finally too grown up to visit with his human parents.

Stay tuned for more memories from 2004 tomorrow with Part III of III.

Until next time.

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My Garden Bucket

My dear MIL bought my dh a tool bucket one or two years ago for his birthday or Christmas. Unforunately, it wasn't a practical item for a guy with a bunch of tools. He's got a LOT of tools, and tool boxes work better for him. Equally unfortunate, the gifted tool bucket sat out in the sun and weather unused for a very long time. I must digress to visit Memory Lane for just a few moments, and share my sun damage phobia.

Whenever I see something that is sun damaged, I get a sick feeling inside. I know exactly from where it stems. My grandparents had a cement slab on the back of their property where my mother stored some of our possessions for a while while she was getting back on her feet after my father left. One of those things was her beloved dining room table. Unfortunately it wasn't covered properly and ended up with serious damage. I don't remember my mom when she discovered it, but the sick feeling I get I know is directly related to her reaction, which the sick feeling indicates was pretty bad, and I probably blocked it. I remember that she refinished her table and it took a long time. My sisters both feel the same horror at sun damaged items. I appreciate having siblings to which I can go and ask if they experience the same feelings, and sometimes they know why, when I don't. Sun damage happens a lot out here and often there is nothing I can do about it, so I just try to overlook it. It is tragic the damage one summer can do to wood. I have a chair in my bathroom, and another of similar style that I brought home at the same time had no place to call its own inside, so it lived outdoors. Over a few summers, the varnish stripped, the wood greyed and it broke to pieces. Sad.

The tool bucket lived outdoors long enough that the cloth pockets ended up with sun rot. But a couple of weeks ago, I got the idea to rescue the tool bucket to use for gardening. I examined it and found that it seemed to be intact. I am a little dismayed at the sun-rotted condition of the pockets, but honestly it will work just fine. I sprayed it out with the hose for it was covered with the fine dust we live with out here in the desert, not to mention spider webs and other debris. I continued to lug my little cardboard box with me to the garden every weekend, and continued to set my gardening "tools" here and there since the cardboard box wasn't really big enough. And then last Sunday I realized with a sense of accomplishment that my work to get my garden back under control was pretty much complete. I decided then it was time to put my garden bucket to use as well. I had the tool bucket with me out in the garden, and I began to load the pockets with the items I like to have with me when I garden.

From left to right: pruners (this pair had a first life as goat hoof trimmers), box cutter (pink and yellow), dirt poker (for poking holes symmetrically for seeds), red handled tin snips (for cutting chicken wire, Juice Fruit gum for the gopher. He took it, he ate it. He continues to ravage any of the garden which is not fortified beneath with chicken wire.

Wire cutters, flat head screwdriver, box cutter, thermometer, and the seeds I'm planting for the day in the big pocket.



My garden gloves, poked into one of the pockets.

My Gardener's Journal. I think I got it at a thrift store for a couple bucks, and started using it in 2003. My entries are sporadic in the first few years, but I am trying to remember to make notes in it this year. It was fun to read through my previous entries, seeing what kinds of seeds I'd planted. I'm trying to not only list my seeds, but how well they do, etc.

I keep my Gardener's Journal within a gallon freezer ziploc bag, along with a few other things. A couple of pens and a pencil, a small notebook and the folded white paper is my list of "When to Plant What".

Finally, one of my Duane Newcomb books. He packs a lot of information into the book, including when to plant, how many seeds/plants needed per person, time of year to plant, some companion planting and other good information that I like to have with me while I'm in the garden.


One of my recent harvests: Purple Radishes, Bright Lights Swiss Chard, Egyptian Beets, Chioggia Beets, and Broccoli.

I diced the purple radishes and broccoli, along with one avocado, one clove of crushed garlic, 2 tablespoons of homemade goat milk yogurt, onion powder, pepper and salt. It was pretty good, considering I was just throwing things together to see how they would taste.

Until next time.

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Giving Myself a Pedicure

I don't usually get into all the "girly" things like manicures and pedicures, hair styles, makeup, lots of jewelry, stuff like that. I guess it probably stems from my childhood and feeling strongly that it wasn't okay to be a girl. It was never verbalized by my parents, but my full blood sisters and I have discussed it and we all were aware of it. My dad left when I was five, and I heard later on in years that he always wanted a son. Apparently he got married shortly after his divorce to my mom was final and his new wife gave him the boy he so desired. Unfortunately his son turned out to be something of a disappointment, but at least he got his precious son. That sounds a bit resentful, doesn't it? Logically I have mixed feelings over my father leaving. He has mental problems. I don't know if they were brought on by a lifetime of drugs and alcohol, but I have often thought in spite of the damage done by growing up without a father, it was almost certainly for the best.

I didn't go to church today. My Pathfinder is in the shop since Thursday afternoon. We are having some work done, what is the word, I want to say preemptively, ah yes, that is the word I was looking for. We are having my PF's transmission R&R'd, and I'm not sure what that stands for. I know it's not rest and relaxation. ;-) Anyway, it is the original transmission with 283,000 miles and we're having it rebuilt so it doesn't just decide to peter out on me one day. We are also having it looked at because it rocks back and forth when I go around a curve or go over a bumpy spot on the freeway. It's quite unnerving, but usually easy to remedy. I just take my foot off the gas which slows me down enough to stop the rocking. Sometimes I actually need to put my foot on the brake to slow myself down and out of the rocking. I'm sure it's not good for the vehicle, or me if I end up rocking and rolling myself right over.

I worked in the garden from 8am to 11am. I dug up an area that is 8 feet long and between 18" and 24" wide. It is the new bed for the eggplants, which I will transplant later this evening, around 6pm.

What this area looked like a few weeks ago:

The hole/trench I dug today:

The new bed lined with chicken wire, fortified with composted manure and bonemeal:

It is hard work to dig solidly packed dry dirt, but thankfully it was possible for me to dig this area. For future reference, it is a lot easier to dig an area 2 feet wide with plenty of room on both sides. Because the dirt can be put on both sides easily and then can be moved back into the bed easily enough. Most of the gardening area has been dug up at one time or another, so that makes for a lot easier digging for me since I obviously don't have as much strength as my guys do. But I did notice that I was able to continue on and complete the task. In spite of my back aching nearly the entire time I was working in the garden (I have to take frequent sitting down breaks), it did not completely put me out of action. This means my body is getting stronger, in spite of not having worked out in weeks. I am getting some workout from all the gardening work every weekend. Now seriously if I could just lose some weight. Really. I'm sick of gaining weight and gaining weight. But enough of that.

I asked dh before he left for church this morning if he wouldn't mind getting me a wheelbarrow of composted manure. He had time so that was one less thing I had to do. He also found me some scalloped bricks to line another new bed. This one is going to be a flower bed!

I switched out my shoes before I went out there as my feet were already starting to hurt. Especially the right heel, there is a spot that really messes with me. Actually I was curious to see if just changing out the insert would be enough, so I wore my old left shoe with a new insert and replaced the right shoe altogether. I'm still wearing the Nevados Madison Men's Action Casual shoes. I just got a few more pair on sale from Big 5 Sporting Goods. I think that is why I was able to spend as long as I did out in the garden.

In addition to the bed for the eggplants, I also finished a bed that is 7' long and against the chicken wire, to plant more green beans. I realized today, I am finally getting to a point where I won't need to spend so much time and energy on the garden. It was really a mess when I started back in September. Wow. Back in September. Six months have passed by, and it is finally under control. I just kept at it, one weekend at a time, one little section at a time. I decided today that I want to put up my wedding arch on the outside of the garden and hopefully I can grow something up it. I also am thinking about planting a flower garden on the outside of the garden, on the front end. I would have to fortify under the bed with chicken wire, and would need to have a fence put up to keep the dogs out. Finally, I'd have to line the top with chicken wire while the babies were growing. I think once they were bigger the birds won't find them so tasty. I want to plant sunflowers! I love them. They are so beautiful, and the goats LOVE sunflower seeds. The neatest thing about sunflowers is the way the flower follows the sun. It faces the east in the morning, and as the day goes by it follows the sun until it is facing the west in the evening.

My first successful garden was in 1994. Here is my tallest sunflower from that year. It's nearly twice my sister's height, she's 5'4" so it had to be at least 10 feet tall. You can see it's also taller than the edge of the house.


My neighbor had a garden, too. Most of his backyard was a vegetable garden and part of the front yard, too. He was from Cambodia and brought all his seeds with him when he migrated to the United States. He gave me my sunflower seeds that year and I'd fortified my dirt with composted cow manure and blood meal and bone meal and wood ash, like Duane Newcomb says to do in his books for square foot gardening. I remember Chak coming over and just staring at my giant sunflower, for his had ever barely grown to five or six feet. The stalk on this sunflower was bigger around than my wrist, it was a monster sunflower. He was just amazed that I'd used one of his seeds, and grown that huge sunflower.

Here's Kev when he was just five years old, holding a measuring stick against the head of the flower. Not only was the plant massive, but the head was massive, too. I can't read the measuring stick, but it is a yard stick, and the flower head looks to be more than one-third the length. I think the flower measured about 16" across.

Wow. So I'm finally almost through with the hardest part of gardening this year - getting the garden back into condition. That's a good feeling. I will have to take some pictures of how everything looks currently and post them.

So, back to the title of this post... for a few days, I've been thinking about giving myself a pedicure because my toenails are getting awfully long. Like 1/2 inch long and they are starting to curl. NO WAY. I'm so kidding. That's disgusting! But they are probably 1/8th of an inch long, and they push up against my shoes and cause my toes to ache from the toenail being pushed against. And it's hard to cut my toenails because it's hard to reach them for the fatness of me. I learned about a year ago, if I sit outside on the porch, with my feet on the next step, I can easily reach my toenails to clip them!

The pedicure part came in because dh bought me the foot soaking machine thing for Christmas and I wanted to use it. Besides, big ugly curled nails are easier to cut when they have been soaked a while. LOL. Sorry, they are not big and ugly. Here, let me show you a picture:

See and my toenails aren't even that long, are they? Regardless, soaked nails are easier to trim than dry ones. I won't be painting my toenails or anything like that. Hate the smell of fingernail polish, I don't think it's too good for my asthma and I don't think it's good for our nails to be smothered like that.

I have only had one official pedicure, that was for the wedding. Usually I just trim my nails, I don't go through the luxury of soaking my feet first.

My thought in the last few days is it might be something relaxing that I could do for myself, since I seem to have myself stressed out constantly lately. It's very taxing to be stressed out so much. I have been hitting the Kava-Kava almost daily.

So I got quite a lot done in the garden. While I was out there, by myself, with the quiet, well, the chickens are pretty darned loud, all that squawking and clucking about "Look at my egg, it's bigger than yours," "HAWK, HAWK, HAWK, run, there's a hawk!" and "Scram quickly away from the lady, she's MINE, oh ye rapscallion!" The dogs are busy looking for lizards, really busy. And busy guarding gopher holes. Look at how serious LJ is. He stood here for 10 minutes straight, just starting down at this hole:


So now my toes have soaked long enough. I thought I'd relax for a while, soak my footsies since they were hurting seriously bad from being on them for three hours straight, and digging and everything.

Until next time.
P.S. My nail clippers weren't in my purse where I always keep a pair. I also couldn't find dh's pair, which he keeps by the couch near his radio. I looked and looked, and finally I started looking on the floor in front of where dh keeps his and found them. AGH.

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Fruit Cocktail

When I became a young adult out on my own, I was dismayed to find that fruit cocktail no longer included bananas. I guess aside from the half cherries, the banana bits were my favorite fruit in fruit cocktail.

One day I happened to mention this to my mama, and she said, "Oh, fruit cocktail has never had bananas in it. I always cut up bananas to put into it."

When I think about that, I think of how special it was that my mom took the time to add cut up bananas to fruit cocktail, every single time she served it to us when we were children.

Thanks, Mom.

Until next time.

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1st Wedding Anniversary

Dh and I were married the first time in 1986. We were two dumb kids and we thought we could conquer the world. In fact, our song was Nothing's Going To Stop Us Now by Jefferson Starship. We had only dated three months when we got married. I figured my grandparents did it, and their marriage survived for decades, we could do it, too.

We bought our first house in March of 1987 and our first baby boy was born in April 1987.

Things started going downhill for us when we learned in July that our baby had Down Syndrome. We loved our baby so much and were shocked that the doctor would suggest such a thing. After the appointment I called my sister Dee Elle, for her first child born to her when she was 18 had Down Syndrome. She accused the doctor of wanting to make money by doing an unnecessary test. Ds1 didn't look like he had Down Syndrome, and didn't act like it either. Dee Elle's husband was in the military and they did extensive testing on her daughter and both parents. They discovered that her husband had two cousins born with Down Syndrome, so naturally we assumed it had something to do with his side of the family. Even though we knew it was not actually hereditary, as her daughter had Trisomy 21, the type of Down Syndrome which is not hereditary.

I read over the information the pediatrician sent home with us, and he'd pointed out the identifying characteristics which had cued him at Ds1's birth. The Simian crease in both hands which I see is now referred to as a Single palmar crease. The wide space between his big toe and next toe. His pinky finger that had a bend to it.

As I read over the information, I realized the doctor was right. He said he hadn't wanted to say anything right away, and waited until ds1 was 3 months old to make the suggestion. After I knew, then it made sense why ds1 never smiled until he was eight weeks old. He was already showing signs of mental delay.

The world turned black for about three days. We cried and mourned; it was as if our baby had died. Indeed, the first lady I talked to about Down Syndrome told me in a sense, our baby had died. The hopes and dreams of a so called "normal" child. But I was also comforted and reassured when I met her daughter, a young girl about ten years old. I'll never forget the most important thing that lady ever told me, she said, "Always remember your son will be more normal than not. He will run and play, and make friends, and have a life. He's just a little different."

Unfortunately, dh's alcoholism increased drastically with this sad news. There was the responsibility of a new home, wife and now a child with a disability.

In 1989, Kev was born. We were excited to welcome a new member to our little family. Ds1 loved his new baby brother.

Here Ds1 is helping Kev eat eggs, except Kev's head is totally covered in eggs.

The boys sleep snuggled together.

Ds1 grins at his little brother standing at the couch.

Sadly, by 1991, things had gotten to a point where I couldn't continue living the way we were living. Dh wasn't going to stop drinking, and there was nothing I could do to make him stop.

Our divorce was final in October 1992.

It took a few years for him to sober up, but he finally did. By 1999, I was feeling overwhelmed with raising two boys all alone, and dh came to live with us. Strictly platonic, because I was too scared to trust him.

For the next few years we lived together, parenting our boys; we became best friends. We work together well, we shared every aspect of our lives, but still I kept him at arm's length. Ds1 was so happy that his Pa was living with us again. He wanted us to be together, and would push us together, hoping we'd hug. At the store sometimes, he'd grab my hand and we'd walk together for a while, then he'd try to put my hand into his father's. It was a bit uncomfortable, but it was clear that ds1 wanted us back together.

I had two good friends who patiently and cautiously would ask every so often why dh and I didn't get back together. We were such good friends, worked together well, shared the same parenting philosophies and religious beliefs. Why not give him a second chance, they'd ask? Dh was patient, and recognized he couldn't push this decision. As I grew to know him better each day, I started to think maybe, just maybe. But I was so scared. I reminded myself of the past, and how it used to be. My two friends would remind me he was sober, and my best friend. Why not reunite?

I was so terrified. I remember driving to work one morning, crying and praying to God, telling him he'd have to soften my heart, because I had worked to keep it hardened.

Eventually I decided to reunite. People at my job actually cried when I told them the news.

We began planning our second wedding in June 2007. First I planned to sew my own gown, it was going to be dark green. I started getting overwhelmed while making the test camisole, it looked like a maternity smock, ugh. Still, I went and bought the jade green lace, and blue lace for the test dress. I still have all this beautiful material. By July 18th I was still determined to make the test dress and talked to a lady at dh's job who told me she thought time was running short as she'd made her daughter's wedding gown and it took every spare minute she had for months. That started to deter me.

By July 22nd, I'd officially given up on making my own dress. The last straw was when one of my good friends suggested we go shopping at a place she knew would have something I could wear. I found a dress that I loved. This was also the day dh asked me, "Isn't October 20th the day our divorce was final?" Yes, it was. We were to be reunited 15 years to the day we were divorced. I also decided to have Ds1 walk me down the aisle and give me away. Here he is, giving me away. I'm starting to cry at this point, because Ds1 has wanted us to be together for many years, and now he is getting to be the one to hand me to his father.

I chose my processional song. But then I found out it was a Catholic song worshipping Mary. Dh thought it sounded like a funeral song anyway. I thought dh and I might have a "first dance" together, only neither of us know how to ballroom dance. My boss said she'd teach me and one of my coworkers made such fun of me during my first lesson that eventually I decided against having a first dance.

Then I decided I didn't want the dress I'd chosen. I wanted a REAL wedding gown. A white one. I found one at Goodwill on 50% off day for $25. It was a little big on me, and dh told me after I bought it that he didn't know why I'd gotten it, I already had one. Well, I'd decided I wanted this one. I'm so glad I got it.

I started looking for hair styles. I decided to make my own veil. I designed the floral centerpieces. I thought about making some tablecloths from lace, but decided against it in the end. I used it instead on the floor under the arch. I decided to make a wedding program. I sewed 1,064 beads along the edging of the veil. Did you ever try sewing with clear thread? It's definitely a labor of love. I decided on my bouquet and figured out how to make boutonnières.

I wet washed my wedding gown all by myself. On September 8th my friend did my test hairdo and makeup. I found our "special glasses" that my boss said we had to have. I wasn't about to pay $25 for two glasses. I helped my mom pick out the dress she would wear. I found dh his suit which looked fabulous on him. The jacket was brand new, as was the shirt and tie, but the pants were from Goodwill, along with the shoes.

I finished the veil on October 8th, sewed the fancy piece to the back of the wedding gown to dress it up a bit more, and looked into what it would take to alter the dress. I would need to take it in a couple of inches on each side at the ribcage area.

On October 10th, I was panicking. I got the guestbook pages printed out, using OfficeMax since my printers at home couldn't handle the thicker paper. I got Ds1 into his suit to see how it would fit and look and we got him a wig so he'd have "hair". I ordered a present for my boss.

On October 13th, I shared the poem dh wrote for me the previous Christmas, the one he agreed to read during the wedding ceremony. I bought the arch at Michael's for 50% off, the final cost: $15. My wonderful MIL buys all the paper goods for the wedding reception. I'm still unsure about my procession song! I bought some boutonnières and corsages off eBay and the lady sent me all her extras!

And to top it all off, we're on birth watch for one of our does, who is due to kid any day now. Only I am not sure exactly when she was bred as I have misplaced my barn records for that particular month. Thankfully Kev excavated the gate leading into the pen the doe is staying in.

Three days left. I decided to take some time off work. Dh plans to make the cake.

On the 17th, my MIL comes to my rescue with my processional song, which I still hadn't picked out. She suggested The Very Thought of You by Nat King Cole. It was totally perfect. My mom gives me an arsenal of stress relief products so I can cope with the stress of the upcoming wedding. I worked on getting lots of last minute things done, like sewing buttons on ds1's suit, altering the dress and worked on the poem I was trying to write to read to dh during the ceremony.

Here's the cake dh made. Kev came with me both on the day before the wedding, to clean and set up the room, and on the day of the wedding to help my boss get everything ready. Dh and Ds1 came later on the day of the wedding. The doe finally gave birth on the 19th. Here's the poem I ended up writing for dh, with Kev's help. And speaking of Kev, don't miss his poem Scurrying About, A Poem My Mom Should Have Wrote.

The day after the wedding, I recount each memory. We honeymooned at a resort that is only 20 miles from home (thanks again to my fabulous MIL).

On Monday the 22nd, I'm still floating. It was such a lovely day. I really felt like a princess.

We celebrated our second 1st anniversary last month. I forgot to post about it.

Dh had flowers sent to my job. Beautiful white long stemmed roses, which I'd wanted as a reminder of my bridal bouquet. They were just gorgeous, and so lovely. He also got me a lovely, heartfelt card.

Kev made cheese enchiladas, spanish rice and beans for dinner (one of my favorite meals) and we pulled out the top of the wedding cake and had a slice for dessert. Here we are slicing the cake together. We watched the wedding DVD that Kev put together. We laughed and laughed all over again.

I'm very happy to have married this wonderful man, and so happy that our family is together again.

Until next time.

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This is TOO creepy

I wish I'd made the blog post I intended to make last week, but you'll just have to believe me when I say I was looking on the Internet for Taco Flavored Doritos.

They were my favorite when I was growing up. My clearest memories of Taco Flavored Doritos were from 1970 when I was in the 2nd grade. Two boys had a crush on me. One boy was Hispanic and his name was Buddy. The other boy was Caucasian - I don't remember his name. The Caucasian boy would frequently buy me Doritos from the school cafeteria and give them to me. I remember one occasion he slid them across the floor to my desk. He gave me other gifts, like one time he gave me a man's wedding band, and another was a piece of woman's jewelry.

Anyway, Taco Flavored Doritos were my favorite, but I haven't seen them in stores for years. During my search on the Internet I found there was a petition to bring them back, they are available for sale by the case on eBay and many, many people lament that they are no longer available; still others say they are available in limited areas.

I found a "recipe" from someone named raindog on this page for Taco Flavored Doritos.

Anyway, you can make something that sort of tastes like taco flavored Doritos by taking a bagful of Tostitos (or other oily unflavored tortilla chip), putting them in a baking dish, sticking them in the oven at 350 for a couple minutes, then dumping them into a bag in which you've placed some Old El Paso (or maybe Ortega, but not Taco Bell, it's all wrong - I mention Old El Paso because they sell theirs in a shaker now as if they know what we're doing with it) taco seasoning powder - add a little cheddar cheese powder or even the orange stuff from "EZ Mac" if you preferred the "Taco Bell" branded chips, shake vigorously, and then dump back into the Tostitos bag for eventual consumption.

Imagine my surprise when today I found these at Walmart:


I concur with others who have complained that this is not the original recipe for Taco Flavored Doritos. Others have said the collision packages that contain Zesty Taco tastes more like the original. I bought a bag of those last night, and I think they do taste more like the original flavor than the new bag I got today.

Notice the bag says at the bottom, "They're back by popular demand" which I think is code for "we're testing this area to see if Taco Flavored Doritos will sell here."

Until next time.

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DS1 Wears Size 14 Shoes

Yesterday I mentioned DS1 wearing his daddy's big shoes... I haven't gotten my scanner hooked up, so I took some pictures of pictures:



I added a label cloud to my blog. Check it out.

Until next time.

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I Don't Really Wear Size 14's

I was just kidding the other day when I said I wear size 14 shoes.

When I was a child, I would find the biggest clodhoppers I could and wear them around the house and laugh so hard I almost peed my pants. I don't know why it was so funny to me, but just imagining my feet being THAT big would put me into a giggling fit that could continue for hours. My sisters would do the same thing.

My mom tells me that we used to parade in front of the window outside where she had her sewing machine, doing things to make her laugh.

Ds1 used to wear his daddy's shoes when he was a baby, which would totally crack me up.

Until next time.

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Did You Know I Wear Size 14 Shoes?

Ever since I was a young girl. Clown feet are so attractive on a woman. Last Sunday I got ready for church and came out of the bedroom wearing these beauties.

Kev just said, "Good golly, Momma. Gosh."

Until next time.

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93 Things Grandma Loved - #7 Black Olives

It is coming up on the one year anniversary of my Grandma passing from this world into her heavenly home above. My mom is still having a very hard time dealing with the loss of her mother.

Grandma always had cans of Early Californian Black Olives on the shelf. She would break open a can and all of us children would mill around waiting for her to put olives on each of our fingers. It was a giant treat; I don't remember my mother ever having black olives on hand just for eating! I mean, she bought them for cheese enchiladas, but never as a snack or treat.

Whenever I eat black olives, I always remember Grandma.

I love you, Grandma.

Until next time.

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93 Things Grandma Loved - #6 Cantaloupe

I don't know how she did it, but Grandma ALWAYS had a ripe cantaloupe on hand whenever we came over to visit. It must be my imagination, because 30-40 years ago if cantaloupe wasn't in season, it wasn't available for eating. Nowadays of course we can get just about anything we want anytime of the year just by going to the local grocery store. Sadly, cantaloupe doesn't taste as delicious as it did when I was a youngster. Is it my aging tastebuds? It used to be so succulent, juicy and sweet. Now they don't seem to have that same sweet taste. I do know how to pick them - press the end and it should have just a bit of give. That indicates if the melon is ripe.

On the day we had my Grandma's memorial, my sister Dee Elle brought several ripe cantaloupes. After the memorial, several family members stuck around and we had a little picnic together right in the parking lot. That was a nice remembrance of Grandma.

Love ya, Grandma.

Until next time.

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93 Things Grandma Loved - #5 Red Rope Licorice

Grandma always had Red Rope licorice on hand when we visited. I hated black licorice, and I don't remember her having that. The popular red licorice now seems to be Twizzlers. It's okay, but doesn't bring back the memories of the Red Rope licorice. Kev and I were in town the other night and I spotted it. He persuaded me to buy three ropes in memory of my Grandma.

Grandma, I look forward to seeing you when we all get to heaven. I love you.

Until next time.

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Carrot Spice Muffins

I cannot believe I haven't blogged about this long time favorite: Carrot Spice Muffins. I had a better photo, taken when they were fresh out of the oven, but between my camera cards and Kev's, we can't seem to locate the photo, so this is the one I took while we were at camp.

When we went to camp a couple of weeks ago, I got up early so I could make a batch of these goodies to share.

I've been making them since my sister Dee Elle discovered them many years ago when our children were very young. She went on a muffin making spree and I think she tried every muffin recipe in the cookbook. The recipe comes from the La Leche League International Cookbook Whole Foods for the Whole Family. My version was published in 1981 with ISBN 0-912500-09-3.

Carrot Spice Muffins

• 1-1/2 c. whole wheat flour (I ground the summer wheat berries that morning, which dh recently acquired, so the flour would be full of nutrition)
• 1 t. baking soda
• 1 t. baking powder
• 1/2 t. sea salt
• 1/2 t. ground cinnamon
• 1/2 t. ground nutmeg (freshly ground with microplane)
• 1/8 t. ground ginger (I actually couldn't find ground ginger, so I omitted this item)
• 1/8 t. allspice
• 1/3 c. honey
• 1/2 c. yogurt (luckily I had fresh-made yogurt from our goat's milk on hand)
• 1/3 c. butter
• 1/2 t. vanilla (I make my own vanilla)
• 1-1/2 c. grated carrots
• 1/2 c. raisins (I bought golden raisins because I like those in these muffins over the dark raisins)
• 1/2 c. chopped walnuts
  

Measure dry ingredients into a large bowl. Mix wet ingredients in another bowl with carrots, raisins and nuts. Add to dry mix, stirring only until flour is moistened. Place in greased muffin tins and bake for 15 minutes at 400°F. Makes 1 dozen muffins.

Until next time.

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Mmmmm, Liverwurst

A post à la The Pioneer Woman Cooks.

Growing up I hated liver. Despised it. I think a good deal of the problem is the way my momma prepared and served it. I won't go into details as I'm sure if you are a liver hater you have more than enough memories without my adding any. I will say that it was my stepfather's favorite meal, served alongside mustard greens, cornbread and black-eyed peas. All with no butter, mind you. It was the driest combination of foods you could put together on a plate.

Anyway, in my teen years, I lived with a foster family and the mother prepared liver very occasionally, but it was much more tolerable prepared by her recipe. First off, she bought baby beef liver (my mother didn't) and she'd boil it in oil with onions. It was actually edible. This woman also loved liverwurst and braunschweiger, which I think are the same thing. Basically it's pork liver, similar to pâté. Now when people hear pâté, they think that's something special. But it's just a meat paste; pâté de foie gras is made from goose liver.

As a child, I vowed I would never buy liver, nor have it in my home. I'm sure I lumped liverwurst in there, too. But when I came to the theory of Nourishing Traditions and Weston A. Price Foundation, and found that liver is considered a superfood, I began to rethink my childhood vow. I still have a hard time eating liver, but I think more often about having it. I also look forward to the times we butcher as liver tastes better fresh.

A couple of months ago, my boss brought in some braunschweiger to share since she can't eat the whole roll by herself and her hubby doesn't care for it. Several of us were lucky enough to partake in the feast of liverwurst sandwiches and I had forgotten how much I really enjoy it. I decided to buy a roll yesterday and I can take it in to share with my boss.

But enough of the tittle-tattle*, on with my post!

First, the cast of characters:
Rye bread, yellow mustard, mayonnaise, Braunschweiger, Muenster cheese and onion.

Slice right through the packaging, oops, I forgot I'm not supposed to use my favorite, recently sharpened knife for cutting meat. Apparently this is the VEGETABLE knife, according to Kev.

I continued slicing after switching to the MEAT knife.

Arrange the slices onto your rye bread.

Slather mayonnaise on top of the liverwurst, then layer some thinly sliced onions. Sweet onions grow very well in Arizona, did you know that? But I digress. On the other slice of bread, squirt out some mustard, then one slice of Muenster. Why Muenster? I don't know, I just thought it would taste good. Then some more onions. Mmmm.

And there you have it: Liverwurst Sandwich on Rye with Muenster and onions.

A slice of pickle goes exceptionally well with this sandwich. This sandwich is amazingly delicious.

I'm going to be a hero at work next Tuesday morning. :-)

Until next time.
*The Word of the Day on August 9th, 2008: tittle-tattle.

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New Scanner

Actually it's one of those All-in-Ones. It's an HP Photosmart C3180 All-in-One Printer/Scanner/Copier.

It's used. I've had it a few weeks, but just got it hooked up today.

My other scanner was borrowed from work, and was horrible at scanning images. I'm happy to see that this one seems to be doing a much better job.

I found an old picture from 1970, and added it to my New Year's Post Memories of a New Year Long Ago - 1970.

Click to see three little cuties. I sure did look like I had buck teeth.

Until next time.

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Old School

I served on a board for two years and resigned this past December. I was supposed to serve three years, but I just couldn't do it any longer. One of the women I served with wanted to take me out to lunch as a thank you.

It's always fun to discover another Arizona native! We're close in age, she's three years older than me. She's tall, slender and beautiful. Especially the slender part... as we were returning to my job I told her I'd felt intimidated by her, but didn't any longer. She asked why and I said, "Well, I was a little worried about going to lunch with you, because I thought you'd eat, like, a walnut or something." She laughed and said, "Like a bird. Well, you saw that was wrong!" Then I laughed and said, "That's when I started to hate you, because obviously you have a fast metabolism!"

Lunch wasn't so hot. Literally not hot. The waitress brought our plates with these huge oven mitts on her hands, and the food was lukewarm. The plates weren't even hot. I don't think my friend ever got her iced tea and it took forever to get our food and we never got our tab. We had to go up to the front and ask for it. My friend told me a neat little piece of trivia that she said probably not many people know about anymore. She said she had waitressed for many years and if you really like the service you received, leave your tip and one penny. She said it meant you felt your service was exceptional. And if you left only a penny, then that said something altogether different. Isn't that neat?

Whenever I meet an Arizona native, I always ask them if they can remember what the old Thomas Mall looked like. It's such a mind twister to go back in my head and visualize it, because now it looks totally different.

We talked about the various neighborhoods we lived in, and we lived within a few miles of each other in some places, but in different years. It was fun to compare notes. We talked a little about our childhoods, and how we'd made the choice to not follow in our parent's footsteps.

I had a really nice time. We had to go to the bank to get her name on the account as a signer, and take my name off. Since I'd lost my driver's license, they couldn't do anything for us, unless I had a state identification card. I felt really bad about it, but she was so cool about it and was even happy because she said we could go to lunch again. She said she never gets to go out to lunch and really enjoyed my company.

Here are some historical links to Thomas Mall:

Malls of America - Thomas Mall
Malls of America - Monkey Cages in Thomas Mall
Mall Hall of Fame - Thomas Mall
Historical Gallery of Phoenix, Arizona 1960s - Thomas Mall

Until next time.

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Memories of a New Year Long Ago - 1970

Dee Elle, RawMilkStar, Raye

The first year I remember the year changing was in the first grade. I remember we repeated the date every morning in school. I seem to recall something like, "Last year was 1969, now it's 1970." I just remember it was from 1969 to 1970. That means I was six years old when I started the first grade.

I have a fuzzy memory of one of my first days of school. 25 year old Mama dropped me off and drove away. 6 year old me standing there, scared and all alone. Mama owned a turquoise blue Volkswagen Bug. Mama, Dee Elle and Raye all drove away, leaving me there.

I used to be able to remember my first grade teacher's name. But I can't seem to remember it now. And I think we had a married teacher at the beginning of the year who left for maternity leave.

Just for memory's sake, I'll see if I can remember any other of my teachers' names:

1st Grade - Unit Four

2nd Grade - Murphy
Mrs. Coombs ??

3rd Grade - Skiff

4th Grade - Skiff
Miss Merrell, who later became Mrs. Marecek

5th Grade - Roosevelt
Mrs. Lawrence (the only teacher who ever disliked me)

6th Grade - Roosevelt
Mrs. Sullivan - home room
Mr. Burke - Science Lab

7th Grade - John F. Kennedy Middle
Mr. Edwards

8th Grade - John F. Kennedy Middle
???
Have a vague memory of the Social Studies or was he the algebra teacher? Big black man, very light skinned with lots of freckles

9th Grade

In the first grade I remember kids getting vaccinated. It was against our religion, so I had an exempt slip. This one boy named Steven was real brave about getting his shot, while the other children were crying and screaming.

I remember I had to wear dresses (our religion demanded it), and no shorts underneath even (we were finally allowed to wear shorts under our dresses when I was in the 5th grade). One day in PE we were required to turn somersault after somersault down a long row of mats. Well, I was wearing a skirt. I tried my best to tuck it under my legs. I remember it was an olive green gingham skirt with orange in it. It was pretty awkward trying to turn all those somersaults and keep my skirt tucked under. I don't recall if I made it without my under garments showing or not. I was sure embarrassed.

Another time I remember getting shoved into a muddy ditch. A very, very muddy ditch.

We had bathrooms in our classrooms. I remember the teacher would sit at the front of the class on a tall bar stool. I also remember birthday swats on our birthday.

There was a green rubber hose in our classroom. Everyone knew that bad kids were beat with the rubber hose. I was terrified at the thought. I never witnessed anyone being beat, at least not at school with that hose.

Since my father left us when I was five, Mama had to get a job and start working. That was our first home after we were kicked out of the home my mother and father were buying with his VA Loan. Dee Elle and Raye were put into child care. We lived in Glendale at Grand Avenue, 51st Avenue and Bethany Home Road.

I had to ride the bus home. One time I missed my stop and was a mile or two north of where I should have been. I don't remember if I just got off the bus and walked home, or if the bus driver took me back home?

I had a bad experience one morning. A older neighbor boy threatened me with a green rubber hose (what was the deal with rubber hoses?) saying he would beat me unless I did what he said. I was waiting at the bus stop. He made me go around to the back of the house and ordered me to take off my clothes. I was so scared and I was so glad I wore dresses with a slip underneath. I was down to my slip when an older girl showed up and yelled at him. I told and he got into trouble. I can't remember if I missed the bus that day, or if I just let myself in and stayed home.

I remember around Christmas time one night we were leaving to go to the store and the neighbor who lived in the front house stopped us on our way out and told us Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer was showing on television. We didn't have a television and she invited us to come in and watch. Mama agreed to let us watch, even though our religion prohibited television watching.

There was a bar on the same corner where we lived. One night, a drunken man got lost and instead of going to the motel across the street where he lived, he came back to our house. He tried to get in the front door, then he went around the entire house and banged on the windows, trying to get in. We were all so terrified. We didn't have a phone and Mama jumped out her bedroom window - I seem to remember that she left the window WIDE OPEN and ran to a neighbor's house to call the police. The same neighbor who'd invited us in to watch Rudolph showed up within minutes and she must have told my mom the story of what she did, because I can still "see" her do it, although I couldn't have witnessed it with my own eyes. She was not a bit afraid of the man, she just came walking up to him and she had a gun in her apron. She showed it to him and said he needed to move along. He started to leave and the police showed up shortly after.

Mama used to fly kites with us. I remember one time the kite went so high up in the sky and then it suddenly dropped. Mama took all three of us girls and we drove around looking for it. It had landed in a trailer park next to where we lived. I'm pretty sure we retrieved it to fly it again.

We had parakeets. One was named Pretty Boy. He was blue. We had a girl parakeet named Shamrock, she was green. He was very tame and I could hold him. I remember showing Dee Elle and Raye a trick where I'd put his head into my mouth. One time he got mad and bit the roof of my mouth! That was the last time I played that trick.

Another time somehow the parakeets got out of their cage. I think a cat might have knocked them over. Mama was crying real hard over losing our birds but pretty soon we found them. I'm pretty sure Pretty Boy was hiding under or behind the washing machine and came walking out. Mama was so happy she was laughing with tears on her face. I'm pretty sure that Shamrock showed up eventually, too.

One time while Mama napped - she napped a lot - me and Dee Elle and Raye were playing house in Raye's crib. Mama had just bought a new blanket for Raye and I got a brilliant idea to cut holes in the corners so the blanket would fit right over the posts of Raye's crib. I used Mama's small sharp sewing scissors. After I'd done that, I figured I'd better okay it with Mama. So I tip-toed into her room, woke her up and asked permission, "Mama, I cut holes in Raye's new blanket so we could play house in her crib, that's okay, right?"

No, it wasn't okay with Mama. She got very angry and started throwing things at me. The lamp, the clock, and the radio. Luckily they were all plugged in, as they stopped short of crashing into me. Mama used her sewing machine to sew up the holes I'd cut in the blanket.

One time Dee Elle got a really bad whipping (which was not unheard in our home). We were in the bathtub playing with spray bottles. Dee Elle turned the spray to a stream and was shooting around the bathroom. (I think at some point in time Dee Elle corrected me and told me it WASN'T HER that sprayed the light). She sprayed the bare light bulb and it busted, throwing glass all over. It was probably a huge mess to clean up and Mama flew into a rage. She found a switch, a belt, a ruler and a flyswatter, laid Dee Elle over her knees and spanked her with all those things - she probably also used her sandal (she used to pull over on the side of the freeway and snatch off her sandal and spank us for misbehaving in the car).

Mama was something else when we were little kids... she's a totally different person now - heck, she was totally different with her second set of children, but she sure used to lose her temper back then, and poor Dee Elle often bore the brunt of that anger. It messed me up, because she loved me so much and then was so at odds with Dee Elle. It scared me, the thought of Mama ever being mad, or not liking me - like she was with Dee Elle. So to this day I have an extremely difficult time if someone is mad at me, or doesn't like me. I've been working on it over the years, but it is a deep seated anxiety which is hard to rid myself of.

Living at that house is also when I got my deep fear of furniture being left out in the sun and elements to decompose and rot. Mama had a beautiful wood table. The memories don't really match up because after we lived in this house we lived with Mama's parents for six months which is where the table was ruined. But I thought I remembered she refinished the table at this house? Maybe she bought this old table, refinished it and THEN it got ruined again at Grandpa and Grandma's? But that doesn't match up, since the table wasn't ruined until after we lived here. Anyway, the table was beautiful wood and it was ruined by being left out. So to this day, if something wood gets left out, I have a deep seated fearful feeling down into the pits of my soul. Like, someone's going to die over this one. Mama probably got really mad about the table getting ruined.

We had a dog when we lived at this house, that we couldn't get housebroken (duh, we were gone all day five days a week!). Mama used to lay newspapers all over the living room floor so the dog could pee and poop on them. Every evening we'd come home to piles of poop and puddles of pee on the newspapers. I think the dog's name was Lady, but I am not sure. I don't know what kind of dog she was, but she was a smaller sized dog.

I was a latchkey kid. I would get off the bus, and go into the house. One day I got a neat idea that I would clean the windows. I don't know why, but this made the neighbor lady really mad. I think she thought I might hurt myself? Anyway, she complained to my mom and after that I had to go to day care after school with my sisters. It was awful at the day care. I hated it. We had to sit and watch television. It wasn't a lady's home, it was a commercial type daycare place.

I remember another time one of us threw a flip-flop shoe out the window while Mama was driving. She had to drive back and get it. Isn't it weird the things that stick in our heads?

Mama worked as a meat packer at Smitty's. She was fired because she wouldn't stop proselytizing at work. She was a new Christian and very fired up about her religion.

When Mama lost her job, we were evicted from our home. The landlord's last ditch effort to move us out was to remove the front door from its hinges. That was very terrifying and I think it was also in the middle of winter when he did that. I remember we had to move in with Grandma and Grandpa shortly after that happened. We stayed there for six months.

Until next time.

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Waterpark Memories September 1994

See my bright wristband that I'm wearing? I put it on last night because I got to go see Christmas lights at our local zoo at a company Christmas party. The company handed out the bands to each attendee. Dh and ds1 stayed home. Ds2 and I were in town, but ds2 went to Bible study while I hung out with the neatest family of people I have met in years. Funny and interesting and just a super nice bunch of folks. Makes me want to get out more. After Bible study was over, ds2 drove back over to the zoo and he and I went around and looked at all the lights. He brought his camera and tripod and got a lot of neat pictures, like these he posted on his blog of the stingrays. If you go over to visit, remember to come back and read my little story.

But now come with me down Memory Lane back to nineteen and ninety-four.

For a few years, when our children were young, my sister Dee Elle and I hung out a LOT together. We were both divorced with young children, and we spent a lot of time together. We used to talk on the phone daily - back when we couldn't afford cordless phones we had 25 feet straight cords on our phones and then we had 25 foot long curly cords which strung from the phone to the handset. We would walk all over our homes, most of the day, talking on the phone. For a couple of summers, we saved money year round so we could buy passes to the local waterpark. We would bring lunch in those things - my mind is so failing me - you know those things like a Thermos, but they are bigger and you - finally! ICE CHESTS! We would pack our lunches for our children and meet at the waterpark. If we had paid our way to get in each time, it would have cost $10 for each member of our family, but we'd bought our passes ($50 for each family member) and then we could get in every day if we wanted. We figured we'd go at least five times at minimum and we usually went at least ten times, so it was money well spent. We'd show our passes at the entrance and they'd strap a wristband on each of us. That way we could go in and out as we pleased.

We sure had a lot of fun. I remember one time in particular, we stayed until closing, which wasn't unusual for us. We'd get there late, around 5pm and stay until 9pm. We never liked going in the broad daylight because of the danger of sunburn. I remember this one evening we had tubes for the wavepool. We never rented them (just like we never bought any of the food there because not only was it "unhealthy" it was expensive) because they cost $3 per tube. Occasionally people would let us use their tubes after they went home. You had to have a second wristband for the tube, so the original renter would give us that. Then we'd turn in their tube at the end of the evening. An aside... the wavepool was kind of scary, because sometimes little tiny children got swept away from their parents and there had actually been a couple of drownings - but this had never happened while we were at the park. Anyway, this one time Dee Elle and I were floating on our tubes and just laughing and singing silly songs and looking up at the stars with our children swimming and playing nearby. I can still remember the balmy feeling. The warm water, the big waves. Ah, the good old days. My boys were both accomplished swimmers by that time and we would float in the deep end of the wavepool and ride the waves up and down, up and down.

Then there were the snake tubes to go down in. Those were fun. The black ones that were pitch darkness inside were kind of scary.

One time, ds1 climbed all the way up several flights of stairs with us to go on the really tall slides. They must have been 60 feet high. He didn't realize what it was going to feel like and my heart almost stopped when I saw him flailing and trying to get out of the slide, which he was going down at a very fast rate of speed. I always tried to make sure he knew what he was getting himself into, but there was no way to try these out first. He really wanted to go down but he sure was terrified. I was so scared he was going to somehow flip out of the slide while going down, but it didn't happen. I raced down the stairs to comfort him at the bottom, he was so angry with me over that. I never went down those slides, they were way too scary.

Another time, when ds1 was seven years old, he got lost at the waterpark. Children with Down Syndrome sometimes don't have any concept of what it means to be lost and ds1 would wander off if I didn't keep eagle eyes trained on him at all times. This one time we even had the park employees looking everywhere for him and suddenly he just showed up and he was upset and he told me he was lost! I was so happy that he finally realized what it meant to be lost!

So back to the wristband... something I would do is I would leave my wristband on for days after going to the waterpark. I don't know why, but it was a tradition. I don't know if Dee Elle did it, too. I wonder if I called her, if she would remember.

Anyway, so in honor of the days of having fun at the waterparks, I am wearing my wristband for an extra couple of days.

Until next time.

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