Late Story Tellers post

I'm having trouble with picture posting, but I don't have a picture to go with this story anyway.

At this time of year, I love the smell of Lincoln Park in Chicago.  Fall in the city reminds me of the greatest high I've ever had in all my life.

Early in October, on a Saturday morning at the end of my first pregnancy, we were living near the park and I could smell the leaves and the weather front as it moved in.  After a time, I decided I was actually in labor and we drove the  few blocks south to the hospital, just to check.  And well before supper time, my daughter had been born.

I was ecstatic!  I had a girl!  She was early!  It was so easy!  It was all over already!  Everything was fine!

I haven't had many days in my life when I felt so spared the pains and ordinary stuff of life, but the day my Lisa was born was one wonderful day.  I was happy when the others were born, and they came with little trouble or fanfare, but by then I knew what to expect.

When you're a nurse and have seen people in difficulties, you always are preparing for the worst case scenario.  I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep a wink that night, as happy as I was.  I should have slept while I had the opportunity.

But the smell of Fall, can always remind me of the happiness of that special day.  Happy Birthday, Lisa.

Shannon hosts this story sharing session.  She can be found at http://asouthernbellewithnorthernroots.blogspot.com/ 

I Love My Town

I do,  I really really do.  

Of course, in spite of starting out my married life in Chicago----not exactly "town designation", much of my life was lived in the country.  Actually, I loved that too.

But in this town, the street sweeping machine comes by and cleans the streets, we have regular, reliable trash pick-up, in spring and fall they send around trucks to pick up large recycleables, they come and vacuum up our leaves if we rake them to the curb.  There is a big lot where we can bring our own leaves and yard stuff like branches and prunings if we don't compost our own.

My particular reason for contentment today though is that our state representative sent me a form to apply for an absentee ballot which I did, and which has arrived quickly.  I can get this because of my age, but I will need it because I'll be housebound on election day.

(All you snickering friends who laughed at my Dumpster Adventure will be thinking of me as I have a knee replacement at the end of October.)

A fact which leads me to praise the kindness of my neighbors.  The neighbor to the south has kindly mowed our lawn for the past two weeks.  He does clearing with his snow blower too, though I'm not quite ready to be thinking about that kindness just yet.  My other neighbors are good folks too, especially Saint Bev.  You can never outgive Bev.  If you bring her a plate of pie, you go home with two cans of pickled beets.

All these facts conspire to make me feel very blessed to be living here.  We don't have the sense of community that leads us to have a block party, but that could change.  When I had a dog and we could both walk, I felt I knew more about the neighborhood than I do now.  When you have a pooch or a toddler along with you, people will talk to you, I've noticed.  Why is that, I wonder?

I am very fond of both dogs and toddlers, but can't keep up with either one of them at the moment.  My daughter says I'll be frolicking like a fawn after I recover from knee surgery.  I'd pay to watch that!  And that made the rest of the family laugh out loud!

PS---in case you're keeping track, the Tree Project got shipped before the deadline.  I had to go scrounging yesterday for old unfinished projects in The Backlog of Long-Forgotten Stuff. 

Happy Sunday.  I can enjoy the day, because my team doesn't play until Monday Night Football.

Live and Learn

In my wandering around, reading the blogs of others, I've come across "Seven Things I Learned This Week."

That sounded like a good discipline to me, and the mentioned list always seems pretty interesting, too.

I'm here to tell ya, it isn't easy.  How can you not learn seven things easily in a culture where you're bombarded with "information" all day long? 

 I think because of that very thing, I ignore 89% of what I hear and disbelieve most of the rest that I do hear.  And of course, my hearing isn't all it could be.

Not to mention (I feel a rant coming on), it's the season for political advertising.  I shudder to think that someone is relying on that information to decide who  to vote for. 

If I were to share my "learned list" with you, which I'm not doing-----trust me, it's short.  It's nowhere near seven, and it wouldn't be that useful to anyone else.  I'm going to work really hard to do better next week.

Story Tellers Wednesday

Are you still sitting comfy with your coffee and your reading glasses?
Have you been visiting with Shannon over at http://asouthernbellewithnorthernroots.blogspot.com/ ?  (Thanks for hosting this clambake, Shannon.)

I have another anniversary this week.  In fact it was yesterday on what is traditionally the date of the equinox. 

Eleven years ago on this date, I had what was simultaneously the most serious, hilarious, embarrassing, and painful experience of my life.  Thankfully there are no photographs to document this klutzy chapter of my life, but I'm sure you can conjure up some images to illustrate what I'm about to tell you.

My mom decided, on her own, that it was time to move into an assisted living facility, and we decided to buy her little house and move back to the Upper Peninsula from downstate Michigan. She hadn't used the upstairs for much but storage, but we would need to remodel and use the space if we were to move.

We were in the midst of demolition.  Actually, I was in the midst of demolition, because Good Guy had gone back to our other house to take care of some business.  I couldn't find a crowbar I'd been using, so I climbed into the rented dumpster to search for the missing tool. It was early, early in the morning.  It was dewy and damp, and when I attempted to climb back out, I fell backwards into the bottom of the box.

Fortunately for me, I didn't land on lathe with nails sticking up, or other pointy, dangerous objects.  But even at that, I wasn't feeling so good.  None of my near neighbors were going to be able to hear me yell.  There is no foot traffic here, unless someone is jogging or dog walking.  I was officially in a pickle.

I'm a little foggy about how I climbed back out.  But I thought I'd get myself a water supply and hang out in the recliner to see how that felt.  Big mistake.  No piece of furniture in my house is as hard on my back as the recliner is.  Bad pain.  I needed to go to the ER.  I wasn't  hemorrhaging or especially shocky.  No ambulance. 

I struggled out of the recliner and felt better already.  I called my sister who lives across town.  Bless her heart, (and I mean this sincerely), she said, "I'll be right there," and she drove me to Emergency Services.

I won't bore you with all the details, but my diagnosis was that I'd crushed one vertebra, and cracked another in two places.  The physician who was caring for me wanted to medicate me for pain, which really wasn't necessary as long as I lay still.

I'd been a hospital employee, so quite a few people would poke their head into the room.  "How did you you do this?"    (Mumbled reply)  I fell into a dumpster, followed by laughter--------no really, how did you do it?

It didn't take long to decline to answer, or to preface my answer with a "promise not to laugh".  It didn't work.   I laughed at it early and often. When Good Guy got back home, he was surprised that I wasn't there, and called my mom to see if I was there, when I didn't show up for supper. "Oh, she's in the hospital."

I hadn't forgotten about him, but couldn't see any point in him driving home for hours worrying about me.

I spent a whole season of my life in a hospital bed and body brace in my living room watching Fall turn into winter.  The maple tree in the yard across the street was my "calendar" as I watched the leaves turn and fall and the snow accumulate.  I was enough better by Thanksgiving so I could travel and we could go to get our furniture and I could drive for six hours home.

Thankfully I healed and if not as good as new, at least well enough.  It could have been a lot worse.
Lesson learned.  No more climbing into dumpsters.

You have a story too.  Please share some Wednesday. 

Shameless Commerce Division

Many weeks ago, probably, (since time goes by so quickly, and my memory is like a sieve) my blogging buddy Kristin of the blog "The Goat"  http://ttelroc.blogspot.com/, had an entry about great products she's purchased and used in her home.

She was doing this as a part of a group that was sharing these findings from room to room in their houses, and it was a great idea.  I don't think they were paid for endorsing anything, I think they were just being good kind-hearted people.

I'm not overly loyal to brands, except coffee, nor do I buy cleaning products very often.  A gallon jug of Mean Green lasts a long time, and so does Windex.

However, Flylady  ( http://www.flylady.com/) a service which offers so much advice and encouragement to us organizationally challenged people for free, carries tools and products for sale.  They search for sturdy, unique products that are well worth spending money for.

  I have cats, which means I have fur issues. So I invested in a rubber handled, rubbery brush called a Rubba Scrubba, and I love this little tool!  It is easily cleaned, of course, but a few brushes with it gobs up the cat fur from corners and rug edges where my vacuum cleaner can't go.  I just love it, and may give it to everyone for Christmas.  Family, be forewarned!

In the same order I bought Purple Rags in a Bag, and I can wet them and clean windows without any other cleaner at all.  No streaks, no lint.  The downside would now be----no excuse.  Except that there are so many other interesting things to do.  The Rags come in their own mesh bag for washing and I would wash them alone without fabric softener. 

They sell a kit for cleaning lint out of clothes dryers and hoses, too.  I don't have one yet, but I'm very tempted to get one.  You never know what all has accumulated between that rotating drum and the walls of your dryer.

Last, but not least, I own a wonderful digital timer which I purchased from her site.  One of her watchwords is that you can accomplish a lot in 15 minutes if you keep at it and don't get sidetracked.  I use my timer all the time to keep me on track.  When I don't feel like doing ANYthing, I can set it for five minutes and promise myself that I can quit after that, and accomplish more than I expect.

I have never aimed for perfection.  I just want to be clean and comfy.  It's not too much to expect.  Flylady is a big help to me and it doesn't take much time.

Have a nice Sunday.  You don't need to do housework today.

Progress Report--Of Sorts

A couple weeks ago I set deadlines, and promised to be accountable to you for my progress.  The quilt top that I needed to finish was slated to be shipped on September 15th.  It was ready on the 13th, but I wanted my sister to see it first, so it got shipped the next day.

This project has a deadline of September 25th.  The binding is on, but I still need to quilt some names into the borders, and stitch a pocket and some documentation (like initials, place it was made, date) onto the back of the quilt.  This thing isn't a wall hanging, it's a snuggle quilt.  It's also a gift, so I won't say too much more about it.

The appliqued letters spell, Family is a Sheltering Tree, and family names will be quilted into the brown borders.

For those of you who care about such things, most of the fabrics are batiks.  I'm okay with how it's turning out and I'm a tough critic.

For comic relief, after the bragging, I can also show you how the "Leaders and Enders" of 2" squares looks.  ( Do the math, ladies, I'll be at this for a while.) 

I also have a sock in progress, but that will have to wait for the next progress report.

Doing this clearing out of projects may inspire me to resurrect some other things that are stashed away, or stalled out.  I have one thing that has ugly parts that clash with the rest.  Perhaps I'll discard the parts that spoil it, and make some better decisions next time.  We can only hope and pray.

I have enough raw materials on hand to keep me busy if I live to be 100.  I'll have to send out for thread and chocolate, but otherwise, I'm good to go.  Stop in to encourage me.  It's lonely in there with just the radio and the ironing board for company.

Wednesday---Story Tellers #3

Hi everybody. 

Time again for Wednesday and story telling hosted by shannon at http://asouthernbellewithnorthernroots.blogspot.com/, and it's a fine time we have here, too.   Join us and read all the interesting stuff the others have come up with.

I would like to introduce you to my father-in-law, Steve.  This was the gentlest, softest-hearted man you could ever meet, here pictured with his lovely wife.

When Good Guy and his siblings had all left the nest and/or completed their formal education, she returned to college, living in Marquette during the week, and returning home late on Friday night.  Steve worked on the road himself and would return on Friday.  He often headed to visit my father, who was housebound and in a wheelchair as a result of multiple sclerosis.

They had a strong friendship, because Steve never treated my father as disabled.  He was always Just a Guy to Steve, and Dad appreciated that courtesy.  He'd spend Sunday afternoons at our house, too. And in those days a "can't miss show" was Lassie.  It never failed.  When Lassie had performed her act of heroism for the week, Steve would be wiping his eyes and blowing his nose.  If we'd glance and him and smile, he'd say "I guess my dog allergies are kicking up."

When I discovered that my stepson had never read, "Where the Red Fern Grows", I bought it for him and told him it was a family test.  He wasn't adopted if he bawled when he read that book.  He passed with flying colors. 

Nobody could tell a funny story like Steve could either.  Good Guy is a good joke teller, but not as funny as Steve was.  I'm grateful for my many happy memories of him.  He never knew that Good Guy and I ended up together, since he was already gone by that time, but I'd like to think that he was happy for us.

Contrary Nature

Even here, in the lovely north country, we have weird weather.  I have noticed that the most beautiful fall days are usually during afternoons when football fans are riveted to their TV sets, though.  Isn't that contrary?

But the snippet I needed to share with you was this.  Good Guy couldn't grill the supper last night because it was raining.  So he was pleased when we had a lovely but breezy afternoon.  We'd grill tonight instead. 

He went out to light the charcoal.  He worked in the kitchen making the salad.  What's that sound???  No, I don't believe it.  It's thundering and blowing like crazy  When the coals were perfect, it started pelting rain; huge splashy drops were landing and overflowing the bird baths! 

Fortunately, the whole thing was over and gone in fifteen minutes.  But it was funny anyway, in a sort of head-shaking way.  The grilled supper was very tasty, by the way.

Be a Foodie in the Fall

Disclaimer:  People do not come to me and beg for my recipe for anything.  However, Good Guy is a wonderful cook, and he actually followed this recipe (for once) and made this savory soup.

Tomato, Rice, and Sausage Soup

Serves about 6

5 Tbsp of olive oil

2 large onions, coarsely chopped

4 garlic cloves, chopped

2 cups whole Italian tomatoes, chopped

2 Tbsp finely chopped parsley

8 cups of water

4 cups chopped Savoy cabbage

3 celery ribs, chopped

2 medium carrots, sliced

Salt and pepper to taste

Pepper or hot pepper flakes

1 pound of Italian sausage

2/3 cups rice

Grated parmesan cheese

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large soup pot over medium heat.  Add the onion and garlic and cook until the onion becomes traslucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the tomatoes and parsley.  Cover and simmer for about ten minutes until the tomatoes break up. Add the water, cabbage, celery, carrot, and salt and pepper to taste.  Cover and boil gently for 15 minutes. 

Heat the remaining tablespoon of olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat.  Prick the sausages and cook them in the skillet for about 10 minutes until they are well browned.  Remove and slice.

Add the rice and sausages to the soup and continue cooking until the rice is tender, and serve each portion with grated cheese.

We happened to enjoy this soup with herb bread fresh out of the breadmaker which added to the appeal of the meal.  Nothing like a cold snap, weather-wise, to bring out the need for soup or stew or chili.  It's a blessing to be able to enjoy the smell of cooking food for awhile before you get to eat it.

Have a great weekend!

Friday Fragments

Here it is Friday again and Mrs. 4444 of  Half Past Kissing Time is hosting another opportunity to unload our sack of ephemera onto her blog.  I really enjoyed visiting with so many new bloggers last week, it is well worth the time.

As I set deadlines for the completion of the big projects in my workroom, I get to think about what will get attempted next.  When I began quilting, it was to use the cutaways left over from sewing clothing----strictly a frugal move by a young mother. So that made me a scrappy quilt lover.  So I began doing this more recently.

I cut my scraps into two inch squares and do this:   http://www.quiltville.com/leadersenders.shtml.

Another interesting thing I read about this week is The Shed Project, wherein the writer seeks to simplify life by getting rid of "stuff" and lose weight.  A discipline of sorts.  The site can be found quickly with  your search engine.

A good deed site of the week is Cedar Bulgaria.  They are providing quality community based (read no large institutions) for disabled orphans.  They are providing family type environments.  I am always surprised by the number of orphaned children overseas.  (Don't ask me why...)

I am annoyed with those people who brag on television about how, with the help of the sponsor, they weaseled out of paying their taxes.  One word for you.  DEFICIT.

Now that I see this, it's possible that some of these might morph into a proper post of their own.  Sometime when I have more time, and fewer projects.

This week we also had a wonderful soup called Tomato, Rice, and Sausage soup.  That's a post for over the weekend.    Happy Friday, people...

Story Tellers Entry----week 2

This exceedingly handsome gentleman, Charles Olsen, was gone from the scene before my dear mother in law was even born.  He died out West, in Idaho, we've heard, leaving his widow stranded there, pregnant,  with at least six children.

She made her way back to the upper peninsula by train with her children, thinking she would seek refuge with her parents who lived about four miles from town.  According to the family lore, after arriving at the depot, they all walked to Grandma's parents' home. 

I don't know if there were cabs available, but even if there were, I can't imagine that she could have afforded one.  How tired would you be after a cross country train ride with children?  Pregnant and bereaved. 

I want to believe that the next part just couldn't be true.  But the family story is that when Dora arrived with her brood, she was not welcome there.  She was, in fact, turned away from her parents home.  It would make you proud to be a part of a family like that, huh?

I'd rather rewrite the ending, or just hope it was embellished over the years.  We'll leave it at that.

But here is handsome Charles Olsen.   There is a headstone with his name on it at the cemetary with the appropriate date inscribed, but I'm sure his body was buried in Idaho. 

He fathered a family of extremely good-looking, intelligent children and the woman he married was as resiliant as any woman I've ever heard about.  There will be a great many stories about her in the future.  Her grandsons, (Good Guy and Brotherbob) nicknamed her Trapper.  I have no idea if she ever heard that nickname, but it was always used with the utmost affection.

OK, let's hear your story of the week too.  And link up with Shannon at A Southern Belle With Northern Roots.  The more the merrier.

Happy Wednesday, reading stories!

The Power of a Deadline

This morning, after checking on Mr. Murphy's Laws, and Mr. Peters' Principles, I can give correct attribution to this wise saying. 

Parkinson's Law----"Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion."

This is particularly important for a retired person to remember.  Unless I set a deadline for the completion of a project it is likely to languish for a very long time.  Starting new projects is an adventure, but slogging through until the end......well, you know how that goes!

All that being said, I have set deadlines for the completion of a couple of quilting projects.  One is a simple top to be sent off to Iowa by the 15th of the month, where my niece will put the layers together and have a machine quilter finish it.  And the other is a Christmas present, commissioned by one of my kids to give as a gift.  That goes out on the 25th.  I'll keep you posted, whether you care about it or not.  I have to be accountable to someone!

Now that it is cooler, I can think about doing something related to holding a warm quilt on my lap.  This wasn't a summer for doing that sort of thing!  Even knitting wasn't that compelling, unless it was a small project that didn't make me sweat.

How many dishcloths can one person use, I ask you!!!!  I'm just kidding.  I read instead.  Readin is not only Fun-damental.  It's Cool.  Especially in August.

Have a great Tuesday, all you Procrastinaters!

Labor Day Blessings

At least three members of my family have a little celebration over Labor Day weekend.  The family holiday is called Gotcha Day, and it commemorates the day that two of my sons arrived to join our family.

They had flown from Bogota, to Miami, to O'Hare in the company of two adults who had flown to get their two three year old sons, and an infant who would join the Crockett family.  The adults had been childless before adopting their boys.  They appeared a bit harried as they de-planed with five little boys.

I can't imagine how they felt, leaving everything they had known, to go with strangers to a strange land and join a family they had never seen.  But Miss Nancy and Miss Edna who ran the orphanage they'd been in said to us, "These kids are the survivors." 

I'm not so sure that they were lucky to get us, but we were sure lucky to have them in our lives.  Happy Gotcha Day, Ben and Alan.

It's been a long time now, but it's still a happy day for me, well worth a celebration.

Love you guys!
Mom

I'm Not a Strict Vegetarian....

I sometimes eat beef.  And chicken.  And fish, and the Other White Meat.  PORK!

It came to my attention yesterday while blog browsing (because of Friday Fragments), that today has been
designated International Bacon Day.  That is all the sanction I require to celebrate it all day.

I haven't been eating bacon all day, but I'm looking forward to a scrumptious BLT for supper tonight.

Friday Fragments

Thanks to Mrs. 4444 at Half Past Kissing Time for hosting this chance to get the odds and ends of the week gathered into one rant-----oops!  Place, I meant, place.

My read of the week:
The Handbook for Lightning Strike Survivors by Michele Young-Stone.  Memorable characters.

Fragment #2
The college football season began last night.  With all the "expertise" of the sports channel talking heads, I wonder why they bother playing the games.  (Insert Grumpy Face here.)

Fragment #3
Does anyone need a zucchini, or a cucumber maybe????

Fragment #4
Need ideas for Random Acts of Kindness?   check out    http://www.helpothers.org/ideas.php

Fragment #5
Our weather turned rainy and cool just in time for our county fair!  It's supposed to be a big one too, celebrating the 100th Fair!  I hope they'll have a good turn out anyway.

Have a nice holiday weekend everybody. (If you're in the USA)  Otherwise just have a nice weekend.

Story Tellers--Number 1

Shannon of asouthernbellewithnorthernroots.blogspot.com is hosting this
ongoing Wednesday event.  I had an entire posting ready to post, but it seemed so lame compared to hers that I'm starting over.  I hope.

When Shannon talked about jaywalking with her Mom in her home town, it reminded me of Friday nights in Iron River.  The stores used to stay open "late", which was probably 9 PM, and I remember the visiting that went on on the sidewalk while people were downtown in the evening. That all sounds so pleasant and small towny, in retrospect. 

My story isn't very old, though, and is based on the fact that, like TV, I happen to have a pretty dramatic picture to show.

Last January, while we were packing our car before catching a flight from Milwaukee to Florida, we heard a horrendous crashing in front of our house.

I called 911 for help as fast as I could, to at least give them the location, and we were relieved to see three strapping young guys crawl out of the windows.  They were shaken, but unharmed. They had been traveling at a pretty good speed on the slippery packed snow, when they started skidding a bit.  Once they hit dry surface they flipped over.

When the wrecker got there, the driver came to our door and asked if we'd like to leave before he began his part of the retrieval operation.  I thought that was very kind.  I wouldn't have minded watching, but he thought we might need to be on our way.

I once rolled a car myself in deep wet, slushy snow.  It gave me a chance to meet my guardian angel, who always seems to show up when I need help.  It's always a little dusty guy who needs a shave and drives a beat-up old pickup truck.  Angels don't always look so angelic, you know.

Later that day I was at work calling the insurance company, and my boss refused to believe that I had rolled my car and then come in to work.   The conversation with the insurance lady was funny, too.  The sheriff had told me to go ahead, they'd get the wrecker and tow the car to the garage, so I hadn't seen it.

The insurance lady wanted to know if the car was drivable.  The last time I'd seen it, the top was smashed pretty flat----so I ended up telling her that it was drivable if you were really short.  As I recall, she was annoyed that I could laugh about it.  (shrug----it's only a car.)

Go and visit Shannon's site and read some more stories.  Happy September!