It's Mine All Mine

I won it.  Really.   I wouldn't pull your leg.

OK, I confess.  It's not true.  I did not win the lottery.  That would have been impossible since I don't play the lottery, although Bob does now and then.

But with this crazy work that's been going on, I really wonder what EXACTLY I would do after immediately winning the lottery. 

Who doesn't imagine winning the lottery and telling your work, "bye bye" the very next day? 

So, let's go down the path of fantasy land. 

There have been plenty of jobs, maybe most of my jobs where I would do just that.  I have worked my entire life to some day provide us with a comfortable retirement.  I haven't regretted working.  I've worked for some wonderful people and I have worked with Lucifer himself and I've managed to manuever through that minefield for more than 30 years now.

Three years ago I was forced into a career change in an entirely new industry due to my company going bankrupt.  Technically, I am now self-employed as I'm working as a contractor with a company that is growing fast, but the basis is a family business and that mentality of all that is good about a family business has been maintained.

Significant project, rolled out almost three weeks ago.  We are suffering through bringing ancient programming code, nearly as old as hieroglyphics into today's world.  Working with a skeletal IT staff, where the complete understanding of the business and IT is wrapped up into only one brain.  On top of this major project are suddenly all kinds of personal issues with the IT staff and their families.  The Spock Brain of the operation lost his mother-in-law last Friday and there are other health issues abounding within the staff that are not insignificant.

My job?  Officially it's Project Manager of this major project.  Which means you do anything that needs done that helps the subject matter experts keep seated and doing their jobs long past the time any reasonably sane person would work. 

These people are all hard working, committed, fun people.  They overwork themselves, to the point I worry they won't be able to function.  While I've been putting in 80 hour weeks, at least four or five of them have put in well over 100 hours or more.  When I object about how much they are working, they are soooo quick to point out they are ALOT younger than I am.  No, they aren't clueless to what they are saying, they mean it and they love to slam me that I'm the old lady of the group.  I'm good with that as long as they keep working.  And I wait for my time to find an even better smart remark back.  It's the way we roll and laugh through the chaos.

So....

If I woke up tomorrow and realized I had mega millions now waiting for me at the lottery office, what would I do?

Would I cash in the money and tell all of these good hardworking people good luck but I'm outta there? 

"Hey I would be glad to continue to help you, but I don't need the money now, so you're on your own."

As crazy as it seems in my head, I could not do that.  I couldn't leave in the middle of rolling out this project and telling people that I've worked with for three years, people that I have grown to love and care about that I don't care enough to help get this project running smoothly enough they don't need me. 

I cannot imagine doing that.  I don't think I could enjoy the freedom the money would provide by knowing I have made it worse for the people I work with.  And NO, don't suggest I just split the winnings with them so all of them could quit, THAT is not happening even more. 

But I am tired.  I want things to smooth out.  I told Bob this morning that I was going to call in "retired" but he wasn't keen on that idea.  So I got up again, in the office by 7 and volunteered for the support line until 10 tonight, which really lasted until after 11.  I can't wait for a day off. 

If I was still working for Lucifer, all bets are off and I'm "outta there", maybe without even calling in at all. 

Bob Called It

We don't see alot of movies.  Some years we are lucky if we manage to see one or two.  A couple months ago it seemed there were several coming out that looked interesting.

You might remember my post on The Blind Side.  Wonderful movie. 

When we walked out of the theatre, Bob said, "Sandra Bullock should win an Oscar for that one." 

I was surprised because Bob doesn't really get into awards shows and we both get confused between the Oscars and the Emmy's and then they throw in the Golden Globes.

So, Bob was right.  She got the Oscar.  She was amazing, but I still liked Tim McGraw in it too.  No, his performance wasn't worthy of an award, but I liked the way they played together and I thought he did a decent job considering he's a singer not an actor.

As a side note, I'm hoping I can get back to some regular work hours soon.  Just finished the second straight week of over 80 hours and it appears this one won't be much better since I've already put in 14 hours.

Working

So far this week, I have managed to..........

Cause the head of operations to call his father/owner to ask him why he was sticking his nose in the operations because I mis-identified an executive for the owner.

Accidentally hit the wrong IM person and sent a message complaining about a co-worker not working on anything important by sending it to the very person who wasn't working on anything important.  Great way to get your point across, in a very bad way.

And the best was when I was wondering if a co-workers wife was still out of town since I received an email from her (she also works there).  However I managed to ask the question at a really inappropriate time.

Guy:  "Oh, I forgot, I have to go home to let the dog out."
Me:  "I thought Jenny was out of town."

Took me a full 5 seconds to realize why it seemed as if I had thrown a grenade in the room. 

I claim sleep deprivation.  75 hour week with about 10 hours sleep. 

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

This Old House with Random Memories

This is where I grew up.  Before my dad built on and built on and built on.  We moved in when I was four years old.  Four kids, two bedrooms, one bath and five acres to run around on like rugrats.  What are rugrats?  I guess I really don't know, but I remember being called one fairly often.

Sitting on the front porch is the box where the glass jugs of milk were delivered.  Two gallons a week.  I remember that shortly after we finally had wall to wall carpet installed in the living room, my brother Mark carried in the glass jugs and accidentally banged them together, busting both wide open soaking the carpet. 

Surrounding the front porch, there were cactus plants which taught me early on never to smear your little baby hands all over, I never forgot that lesson and have never planted a cactus.  We called the big window in front a picture window in which each pane was a separate piece of glass.  I'm assuming the term picture window went by the wayside about the same time as the term milkman.

I once took a flying leap onto the side of the porch and landed squarely on the shin of one leg.  That sucker was swollen and bruised for weeks, you didn't rush kids off to the doc back then unless they were bleeding, PROFUSELY.

The bush along the sidewalk was a forsythia.   It was ugly except for when a few days in the spring when it bloomed.  All along the front was a hedge which had to be trimmed quite often.  I remember Mom hacking away at it with the old style, manual hedger.   Years later both the hedge and the forsythia were yanked out.

The leaves on the tree on the left side of the picture was Mike's tree.  There were two big trees in front and two in the back and for some strange rugrat reason, we kids decided that we each had a tree.  Helen and Mike's were in front and Mark and mine were in the back.  Mark had the best climbing tree.  I could climb it even when I was little.  I once climbed so high I could see a big castle on the other side of State Road 37.  When I got older, the "castle" had somehow morphed into a farmer's silo.  Why would someone turn a perfectly wonderful castle into an ordinary silo?  That is not progress, I wonder if they also took away the moat, the princess and the white knight, not that I ever saw them.

On the foundation of the house that is on the right side of the picture, the little white door was where the coal was delivered and dumped into the coal bin in the basement.  I still remember my brothers getting up on cold winter mornings and shoveling more coal into the furnace.

God, I'm old.

This is the house where we all held dad's hands while he passed away in 1992.  It was the only house he ever owned.

It sits empty now.  Do you think the memories are still playing on the side of a wall inside like an old projector when no one is looking?

This Time Last Week - Update

UPDATE:  Amazingly Kevin has managed to hang on.  Tomorrow they are putting a more permanent feeding tube in along with a tracheotomy.  While he is only showing signs of slight reactions, the swelling and bleeding of his brain has subsided and they are beginning to resume the radiation treatments.

His story has somehow exploded in the media.  Large article tonight in the local paper, several mentions of local and not so local papers and blogs.  Over 26k visits to his caring bridge website.  I can imagine that ourpouring of caring gives just a bit of comfort for his poor parents and siblings, not to mention the extended family.

Tomorrow night, his high school is having a benefit for him during the basketball game.  It's a fairly large school and with all the publicity, I'm sure it will be packed and they will collect quite a bit to cover the health costs and to help the parents who have not been able to leave his bedside to go to work. 

A somewhat official slogan has grown out of all this.  "You've got this Kev."  I hope it's true.  I pray it's true.

Miracles do sometimes happen.  Let's all continue to pray we get to witness one. 



Original Post::

Kevin, it appeared, was a happy healthy 15 year old, playing basketball, football and baseball for his high school team.

Tonight nearly 500 people showed up at the hospital after receiving word that he has 24 to 48 hours left.  His story was broadcast in Kentucky after the Wildcats coach showed up at the hospital earlier this week.  The caring bridge site now has over 10,000 visits.

One of my friends left this note on my fb page.  It was beautiful and I wanted to share it:

prayers going up...praying that God gives family and friends peace and comfort and that His Will be done..praying for all medical staff caring for this child...and mostly praying for this child...Heavenly Father please wrap your loving arms around this child and give him everything he needs at this time...Amen...

That says it all.  

When Super Bowl Sunday Brings Heartbreak

We were having a few family over for Super Bowl Sunday.  Not many.

My brother was to bring the pizzas, I had made snacks and we were all waiting for a great Colts win. 

The day didn't turn out the way we expected.

And the days following got even worse.

About 30 minutes before the game, Mark called and said he was waiting to see if his wife could make it home before it was time to come over.

Joetta's 15-year-old nephew is an overall athlete, a sophmore at his high school.  With just a couple odd minor symptoms in the last couple weeks, Sunday he woke up and was more or less paralyzed on one side of his body.  He couldn't walk and was slurring his speech.

They rushed him to the emergency room that morning.  Several tests were ran.  By the time Mark called me, it appeared that most of the test didn't appear as serious as the symptoms would suggest.  So Mark first came to the house and an hour later, Joetta left the hospital to come watch the rest of the game.  It was apparently just some type of inflammation and they put him on antibiotics and we were watching the results.

Ironically, Kevin was placed in the new Peyton Manning Childrens Hospital at St. Vincent, on Super Bowl weekend and Kevin is NOT a Colts fan nor a Peyton fan.  The family put posters of Peyton in the room to encourage him to rally up and get out of the hospital as soon as possible.

On Monday, word came back that it may indeed be a tumor in the brain.  They would need a biopsy to determine if it was cancer, the problem was it was located at the pons area of the brain.  They determined that  biopsy could not be performed.

Kevin's favorite coach is from KY Wildcats.  After hearing Kevin's story, Coach Calipari braved the nasty snow storm we had earlier this week and flew up to visit Kevin in the hospital.

Last night, they had a diagnosis.

Pontine Glioma. 

Researching this only brings siginificant heartache.  The "best" news is that with radiation, Kevin will respond well to radiation, recover somewhat and will have a recurrence in 5 to 9 months.  The experts and research all agree that a year is to be expected.

Due to the advancement of the tumor, they began radiation therapy last night and another this morning.   So far the response seems to be less than hopeful.  We are all praying, we all have hope. 

I sincerely want to believe there is fairness in this world.  It's just so hard to see through the fog of pain, stunned disbelief and how a happy healthy 15 year old is playing football, basketball and baseball one minute dealing with some evil deadly tumor the next.

Please, please, pray for a miracle for Kevin tonight and wish all of his family peace.

Go Colts

Happy Birthday Ronnie

Anyone else tired of winter?

I know I am.

A Random Picture

I've been a little speechless (blogless) lately.  No real reason.

Tonight I decided to randomly go through my 10k pictures and came upon this one.

It brings back good memories.

Taken at my mom's when she lived on the lake.  My niece(the new mom), my mom and my sister (Cissy Apple), toasting their margarita glasses on a summer evening around the campfire.

Here's to a warm summer night, a wonderful family and many more memories to come.

Early Adopters

I first heard the term in some class. Can't remember which, probably Economics. Economics is an antithesis to the mind of an accountant, so I got very little out of the class. Supply and Demand? Yeah, I got that one. But all those other concepts "all things remaining the same except", not so much, mainly because all other things do not remain constant, so it always blew the economic theory in my 2+2=4 ideal world.

Anyway, I did remember the term "early adopters". Those geeky people who have to buy the very first technowhatchamacallit on the first day available. I remember my brother's first Betamax. The thing was the size of a minibarn. I'm pretty sure the price tag was around $800 or so. It was around the time when Reagan was shot because he played the shooting frame by frame over and over again.

A few months ago a big Panasonic truck set up shop where I work.  It was a traveling 3D show.  I went in the trailer not expecting much.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, 3D.  Saw that on my tv set back in the 60's watching Creature From the Black Lagoon. 

So Panasonic is on the road floating out the trial balloon of 3D TV's.  Prepare to be awed.  The glasses read infrared messages from the screen that direct your eyes to the full effect of the 3D.

The 15 minute video is awesome.  Part of it was filmed at the Olympic Opening Ceremonies in China.  The view was shot from the a standing position on the floor when the 2000 drummers were operating in complete unison.  You actually felt like you were standing right next to them.  It really is amazing.

When PC's were making their first appearances, our department purchased one.  Back in the day when they had no hard drives.  You put in a floppy disk with the DOS operating system, took that out, put in the software, took that out and used an empty floppy to save your work.

This was a floppy floppy, not the hard "floppies" that came later.

The first day the CPA I worked for put the disk in and hit a couple buttons and before he knew it he had initialized the operating system on the disk.  POOF.  Gone.  That was my first lesson on what not to do on a pc.

Several years later, my department purchased a "portable" Compaq.  It came with some weird thing called Windows.  I opened Win.exe when we first got it and could not figure out what anyone would use it for.  Made no sense to me and was such a memory hog that you couldn't even open it when we had loaded a few files on the hard drive.  I distinctly remember thinking it was good they gave the Windows away free on the pc, because no one would ever end up buying it.  Yes, I know, I'm not much a visionary. 

Never been an early adopter,  we were late in buying a desktop pc at home.  I finally got a laptop and a wireless connection only two years ago.  We just replaced our rear projection TV with a 55 inch Samsung LED that daily makes me feel more beautiful.  Really.  They should advertise this benefit to get more women buyers.  The reason?   You can see every wrinkle, pimple, pucker, freckle, tiniest scar on every glamorous beauty that you thought was perfect.  I'm just glad I don't see my actual face on it, I might not feel so beautiful then.

So now out comes this new whatchacallit horribly named the I-Pad.  I don't get it.  But then I didn't get Windows either at first. 

Seriously.  Is this necessary?  It just looks to me like something one of those early adopters will buy and destroy within a month by dropping it.  How are you supposed to hang on to it? 

I can just imagine Dooney & Bourke is rushing around creating an over priced I-Pad skin to get on the market next week. 

The Winning Strategy

Pretty simple, really. And funny.

Here We Go Again

This guy:

Is taking Indy here:

The party's at my house!

So Explain This To Me

Why is the convicted rapist Mike Tyson in the audience of the Golden Globe Awards?

We need new heroes.

Two Years From Now

If it was two years from now I could get my driver's license.  

I still remember what my dad said when I uttered those words 36 years ago.  He looked at me over the dinner table and said, "Don't wish your life away." 

At 14 I didn't listen.  No fourteen-year-old listens. 

And without listening, those five words still ring in my ears. 

After I turned 16 and got my driver's license, I felt out of place with my high school classmates and couldn't wait until I turned 18 and got out of high school. 

I did the "mid-term" graduation thing, which probably left me out of alot of the senior year moments.  I went to work after school and then was always 2 years away from everything I wanted to accomplish.

Getting married, having babies, being financially comfortable.

I have always spent my life being 2 years away from my goal.  My father has been dead for almost 18 years now and I can still hear him telling me not to wish my life away.

So now, I feel like I'm two years away from retirement. 

Except that I have managed to find a wonderful job with funny, great people.  But then sometimes my mind just wonders when is it my turn to just relax.  I've worked full time my entire adult life.  That would be a full 33 years now.  When is it my turn?  I never got to take a 6 week maternity leave.  Even when I had my hysterectomy, I was back at work in 3 1/2 weeks, way too soon.   That was the longest time I have been off work since I was 18.

Bob has gone back to work at a FTE, so we can have our insurance.  I normally work a 40 hour week, but this week put in over 56 hours.  Certainly that's not the worst week I have worked in all my career, especially since it's with people I enjoy, but it's still alot of hours. 

And I wonder when is it my time?  When do I get to sit back and enjoy life, knowing I've spent over 30 years working toward a goal of not having to work anymore? 

I have to be honest and say that I long for a resting time.  But then again, what would I do?  There have been less than a dozen days that I have awaken on a morning as an adult and not been one someone's payroll.  So, what would I do?

I've imagined all kinds of great post-career achievements.

But I'd really like not have to wake up with an alarm clock.  Not have to worry about some idiot I might be working with and just feeling like my life should also include just feeling like I get to do what I want to do.

Now if I could only figure out what it is that I want to do.

Every Day We Should Give Thanks

My sister sent me this link today.  I love his ending story. 

What Can They Sense That We Cannot?

Obviously "man's best friend" can sense trouble before we can.

Here's to praying for the people of Haiti.  When our beloved Pastor Jesse passed away, our church decided they would build an orphanage in Haiti called the "Ireton House".  They had collected nearly enough money as of last week to begin building the orphanage.  I wonder about the Haitian pastor that spoke at our church last year.  I pray for his church tonight.  And I pray for the funds for the Ireton House, which will be needed now more than ever.

The Highest Price

"Political Crap" Cafferty's Words - Not Mine - To my loved ones who have a different political view, you've been warned.

I had to laugh out loud when he said "political crap". I can't believe this was CNN.

Take Care of Those Paper Angels

Grateful for our two

Newhart and Politics

I went looking for some classic Newhart, one particular scene, but happened upon this instead.  We all need a good political laugh nowadays.

You Ain't Nothin But a Hound Dog

So in all this excitement, I've developed some type of head/chest congestion.  It's great, really. 

I've gone from sounding like this:

To this:

At least the guys at work like it.  Though, Bob is kinda sick of hearing me bark.

I'm an AUNT

Congratulate me.

If all goes well, as of this minute I'll be a new aunt again.

My niece will have "delivered" two girls, given to her by the Grace of God and the State of Indiana. These two sisters are now ours.

Thank you God. Thank you, State of Indiana. Thank you New Mom and Dad.   Congrats Grandma and Grandpa!

Spirit of Christmas

Bah Humbug.

Christmas was always magical to me.  We didn't have a lot growing up, but Mom always made sure we had wonderful Christmases.  Christmas started earlier and earlier each year because when my parents were done "finding" all the presents from Santa, they would wake us up, even in the middle of the night. 

Christmas "mornings" remind me of the many mornings of being awaken at 2 or 3 in the morning and my parents leading us to all of the presents Santa had managed to save up for most of the year.  One whiff of coffee brewing brings me right back to that morning when I received a "real" china play set.  I asked mom to put some water in the tea pot and she returned the tiny china to me with REAL coffee.  My brothers wheeled up to my diner in their new Radio Flyer wagon. 

Sadly the kids nowdays will never remember the smell of a new transistor radio.  I should bottle that and sell it as perfume, I would make a fortune.

Thank you Mom for making Christmas so special.

I miss those days.  I loved Christmastime even after I grew up.  Twenty years ago I would decorate for days.  I put up a live Christmas trees even when I lived alone.

Eighteen years ago last May, I was again newly married.  In June my dad retired.  In August he was diagnosed with liver cancer. 

His last Christmas was also his last birthday.  He turned 60 on December 25, 1991.  He died just barely a month after that. 

From that time until now, Christmas has been hard.  Too much sadness and too much drama.  Bob suffers his own Christmas nightmares,  mine are more recent. 

But by Christmas Eve, all that changes.  My family has been been celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve since we grew up enough to realize Santa had already visited.  

Last week I found online a song that described my feelings about Christmas now.   I found it here.


This precious girl who has an amazing voice now has a family who loves her after losing both of her parents.  Her courage and strength amazes me.  

I was hoping to embed her version within this post, but found that I couldn't.  So I've embedded below the original song.  It doesn't compare to Katie's version or her strength.  God Bless this child.  If she can look for hope at Christmas, surely the rest of us can also.




"Where Are You Christmas"
Words and music by James Horner
Copyright © 2000

Where are you Christmas
Why can't I find you
Why have you gone away
Where is the laughter
You used to bring me

Why can't I hear music play
My world is changing
I'm rearranging
Does that mean Christmas changes too?

Where are you Christmas
Do you remember
The one you used to know
I'm not the same one
See what the time's done
Is that why you have let me go

Christmas is here
Everywhere, oh
Christmas is here
If you care, oh
If there is love
In your heart and your mind
You will feel like Christmas all the time

I feel you Christmas
I know I've found you
You never fade away
The joy of Christmas
Stays here inside us
Fills each and every heart with love

Where are you Christmas
Fill your heart with love


SOOOO, wait.   I just got this letter posted on my family web from my new niece who will legally be my niece on Wednesday morning...

The marked out words said "but if I end up with another family, I'll never forget you.  But I know that will never happen."  

God Heals All Wounds.  Never Forget It.

Dad, you would have loved your new great grandbaby girls. 

Toys for Boys

This is a great gift for a little boy....

Well, until it tangles up with his sister's hair....

Scissors please.

Sometimes it still stings.

But grandbabies nephews and nieces help

Who's That Sleeping On My Floor

On Saturday morning, I never knew who to expect might be camping out in our living room. I was young, probably 12 or so. I cannot tell you how many mornings I would wake up and walk to our living room and find a kid or two sacked out under a blanket.

They were always friends of my brothers. Some had parents who really just didn't care about them, some were just lonely because they were only children. All were welcome in our house.

I had nearly forgotten about all those kids until last night. Most just stayed a night here and there, a couple lived with us for a month or two or three. I can't tell you how many there were, more than four, probably less than a dozen.

Not all of the stories had happy endings. Most grew up to be decent functioning adults, one ended up in prison. But none of them, none of them ever betrayed the trust my parents had placed in them by letting them stay at our house. I never remember feeling threatened, these kids were part of our family and when our dad lay dying years later, some returned to our house and reminisced about the old days. For many, my dad and mom were the only true parents they had ever really known.

Nearly a year ago my mother told me that my niece and her husband were thinking about adopting two little girls. Given the number of "stray" kids that were part of my upbringing, I would have assumed that my first reaction would have been a big smile. I hate to admit it, but my first reaction was that my niece didn't realize what she may be getting herself into. I worried.

But oh, how I underestimated my niece's instinct along with the joy these two precious girls would bring in my own life.

In a week and a half these two little girls will forever be legally tied to our family. But they have been tied to our hearts from the very first meeting.

Which leads me to another story. Imagine taking in a kid off the street. A teenager, a black kid in a white millionaire neighborhood. A kid who was homeless, whose mother was an addict and a background you were unfamiliar with.

I would love to believe that my heart and faith would be bigger than my fear of the unknown. I want to be that person, but I know I will never be.

But there are some people who do the right thing, no matter what. There are people in this world who turn a blind eye to the fear of taking in a troubled teenager.

Last night we went to see The Blind Side. A true story of the Touhy family who took in Michael Oher. A VERY big black teenager who had no home. They brought him in their millionaire neighborhood, fed, clothed him and changed his life.

What would have become of Michael Oher had this family been too fearful to let him into their home with their teenage daughter and young son?

I don't know the answer to that, but I would bet everything I own that his life would not have turned out like it has.

Obviously Michael Oher was a special kid, not letting his early life affect how he percieved the world, but then so are the Touhy's.

The movie was wonderful from start to finish. It would have been a great fictional story, but it's not fiction. It's too amazing to be fiction.

If you haven't yet, go see The Blind Side. It will just make you hopeful that you might be able to change one person's life.

My niece is changing two.

What a wonderful Christmas gift WE'VE been given.

Angel Flight

From Radney Foster's website:

I have so many things to be thankful for this year: My country, my home, family, friends, and fans like you.

Today of all days, I would ask that all of us remember those who are not able to make it home to their families for Thanksgiving. I'm thinking especially of the brave men and women who serve in our military, including those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for our country.

I wrote the song "Angel Flight," to tell the story of the aircrews who fly fallen soldiers home to their final resting place.

I hope you'll take a moment to watch the video, and pass it on to your friends.

Proceeds from "Angel Flight" benefit the Texas National Guard Family Support Foundation, which provides assistance to military families beset by tragedy. Please have a safe and joyous holiday, and hug your loved ones close.

Radney

Thanksgiving Tradition

It's food, of course.

Twenty-five years ago or so, I was eating at my sister's mother-in-law's and asked her for the recipe for the beef noodles she had.  She told me it was actually an Amish recipe.

My first try I had a pot full of chicken broth and didn't realize that the broth should actually be boiling before you drop the noodles.  They lanquished there in one big lump.  I caught on pretty quickly

Since that time my chicken and noodles have become a family tradition.  We have tried to keep all other family gatherings less hectic, but come Thanksgiving it's a must that I make the chicken and noodles.  As my nieces and nephews have grown into adults, the amount I need to make has grown disportionately. 

I've decided to share the recipe with the world.  OK, I know the world won't read my post, but I know my mom at least does.  You're there, right mom?  Mom?

Anyway.   Here goes.  The BIG secret?   Home made chicken broth. 

DON'T start with this stuff.

You have to use this.

Please don't tell me how unhealthy the chicken fat is, this is old fashioned cooking.  Like food made back in the day when women looked like my grandma. 

My Grandma

Back in the day when women were not made to look like this.

This is real food.  So, just don't eat it everyday.  This IS Thanksgiving afterall.

Since this takes hours, I normally make the chicken broth a few weeks ahead of time and freeze it along with all the chicken I have picked off the bones.  With the amount I need to make these days, I sometimes do this in bunches, at least 4 chickens or what I would call "equivalent" chickens.   You don't need four whole chickens, but at least several chicken breasts and lots of bony chicken parts that will provide you with alot of good brothy juice.  I dig out my way-too-expensive-but-I-don't-regret-a-penny Pampered Chef roaster and throw all the cut up chicken into it along with a few inches of water.  Then it bakes for three, four hours until the chicken falls off the bone.  Pick the meat and put in in one ziploc bag and strain the wonderful broth into one or two others.  The skin and bones go back into the pan with more water and extract the last drop of broth possible with another couple of hours. 

I prefer to make the noodles on Thanksgiving, but fighting for premium stove space isn't always practical, so I resort to making and cooking the noodles the night before.  That also carries some risk.  Mainly because at least half of our crew is usually onsite the night before, which means that it's nearly impossible to keep from losing at least a third of your work the night before as the vultures hover over the noodles, circling until they are officially done. 

The Recipe:

                     Serves 4                Serves a crowd

Egg Yolks            2                        14
Milk                    3T                      1 1/8 cup (wait to add all in case the consistency needs adjusting)
Salt                     1t                        2T 2t

Mix together

Crisco                  1t                       2T 2t   (cut into small bits in the mixture with a couple forks)

Flour                    2/3 c                  4 2/3c
Baking Powder    1/2 t                   1T 1/2t

Mix all together.  Should be somewhat moist.  Don't overwork.


I throw alot of flour onto waxed paper and flatten a handful of dough out.  Roll to about 1/4 inch thick, flouring liberally.  I cut the noodles into small thin strips and pile them onto the side while I roll out the remaining dough.

The chicken and broth should be boiling hot in a good heavy pot.  HA, wish someone had told me that the first time.  Drop the noodles in a few handfuls at a time while stirring to keep from sticking together.  Add more when the noodles appear separated and the broth looks nearly ready to boil.  Turn the heat to low or medium after all noodles are in and stir often to avoid sticking. 


LOTS of pepper.  And don't forget the salt.  A good 30 minutes or so later that's all there is to it.

This time tomorrow they should be ready.  Come on over.

No Words

Know Your Candidate's Stance

Just found this online   Regardless of your political leaning, reviewing the current voting records of those in elected offices is very informative.

Here's one that is up to date. 

UPDATE: This was apparently only being updated during the Presidential election, however I found it interesting to see Mike Pence's voting record.

For my liberal family and friends, you may not want to watch the video, but I believe in this man enough to post it.

The Bad Guys Always Wear Black

Quick question.   How many of you would open the door of your house and let two complete strangers in that look like this?

If I saw these guys at my door, I have no doubt I would not only not even go to the door, I'd be calling 911 before they even hit the front porch.

Now on the other hand, let's imagine another set of strangers that just might look like these guys.

Who would look at those two and hear that little voice in your head that tells you to be cautious?  Voices?  None, nothing, nada, zip. 

And so it went this morning for my father-in-law. 

A couple of normal looking guys come to the front door, which has security bars on it and fast talk their way into their very modest home.  They had a roll of linoleum.  My father-in-law can't hear that well and these guys managed to fast talk their way into the house.  I can only assume my father-in-law couldn't hear them and absentmindedly let them in the house.  They looked like normal guys, right?

The fast talking began and they claimed they were opening a store and one held up the linoleum roll while the second guy made his way into a spare bedroom and proceeded to go to the closet and steal a box of gold coins. 

Somewhere along the way, they found my mother-in-law and one of the "hope-you-burn-in-hell" men greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  While the linoleum was still being shown to my father-in-law, he hears the front door shut.  Then the other guy leaves quickly, they jump in their car and they are gone in just a few short minutes.

I'm aching for my in-laws tonight.  The slap of reality that these two scum were in their house and knew right where to go within just minutes will leave them sleepless and scared for how many nights?  And the worry if they could be coming back, next time for something even worse.

Bob was just a few minutes away by the time his mother called.  He arrived as the police were still there.

Bob told the detectives that the guys had to know there was an elderly couple that lived there.  They knew the layout of the house and they knew where to look for the coins. 

Two weeks ago, they had cable installed and a week ago, another cable guy came back out to fix the signal.  When Bob mentioned that to the detectives, his mother said they didn't go into the bedroom.  Bob pointed out that the cable guy was there awhile and they could easily spend a few minutes without the constant eyes of my in-laws.

The cable guys have been the only strange guys in the house lately.  The more we've thought about it, the more we're convinced one of them may be working with these con artists.  He can tell them which are likely victims and where something of value may be. 

It was all too slick not to have had prior knowledge of the people, the house and the location of valuables.

It's a good reminder for us all to stay with repairmen, cable men, and strangers you have in your house all of the time they are there. 

These scum didn't just steal away with a few gold coins, they stole my in-laws' security, peace of mind and, I have no doubt, left my father-in-law feeling like a fool.  It just makes me sick.  But, they were very, very lucky that it was just a few coins and not some tragic event that we would have been hearing about on the news tonight.

Tonight, please say a little prayer for their continued safety and for some peace.

Coming Soon.......

From October through May. 

Florida Stone Crab Claws.

Right now, I'm imagining November 15th or 16th, I'll be enjoying a plateful of these babies, making a mess as I crack the claws.  Dipping and dripping them in warm butter. 

Best meal on the face of the planet.

Go Rest High on That Mountain

This wonderful woman finally went Home on Thursday evening.

While I thought that last post months ago was written on her final days, she rallied back like she had so many times before.

Last weekend we got a call from my husband's ex who told us Great Grandma had said she missed us. I'm thankful for that call. We went to see her last Sunday. She was so much more alert than I had seen her in months and she was so excited to see us.

She laughed, she cried, we laughed, we cried. Her arms were covered in the bruises from the IVs and I told her she looked like she was in a fight. She told me she had and she always WINS. God, I loved her spirit. What an inspiration. She told me that she would be 99 in January and she was going to make it. I believed her, although you could hear that her lungs just sounded tired.

I reached down to touch her hand and she smiled and held on for the entire time we were there.

She told us she would see us again "if not here, then in heaven." At that time her voice broke. Although her vision was almost gone, she looked back at Bob and said, "This stinker is going to be around a long time." We all laughed.

She talked about our grandkids, her great great grandkids. She missed them. She saw them alot when her granddaughter (Bob's ex) watched them before they were in school. She left this world with 20 grandchildren, 29 great grandchildren and 9 great great grandchildren. And us, not now legally related, only by the heart. I loved her and I could see her eyes light up when we would walk in the room. Divorce doesn't always end in broken relationships, sometimes it just adds to the family. I'm fortunate they allowed me that relationship with this wonderful wonderful woman.

I will miss her so.

So How Was Your Commute?

Luckily I got word early that my normal route to and from work would not be available.

Here's why...

Looks like that section of the interstate may be closed for weeks.  A tanker truck crashed below, taking out a support and weakening the steel beams. 

News reports indicate the truck driver was pulled from the truck just prior to the fire and a couple people have non-life threatening injuries/burns.  Keep them in your prayers.

How Well Do You Know Your Neighbors?

How much would you pay for a mailbox?


I mean a NICE mailbox. 

Bob (not MY Bob, but the one who used to live in the house across the street) ended up spending close to $1k for their mailbox.

Oh no, he never intended on spending that, but Bob made the mistake of not calling what is referred to around here as "Holey Moley".  See, even though we live in a rural community,  you are supposed to call Holey Moley a couple days in advance before digging on your property.  They come out and mark your property where the underground wires are buried.

Some distracted and/or drunk driver took out both our mailbox and Bob's.  So Bob decided to "plant" a really nice mailbox.  He dug and dug and dug.  At one point his wife was there with him, so I decided to tease them both a bit and took a cold beer from our fridge and walked it out to him while he repaired their mailbox.

A couple hours later I see a telephone truck driving V E R Y  S L O W L Y down our road.  Obviously they stop when they see fresh dirt.  Evidence. I checked our phone line and yep, it's working.  Not so much for the people on down the road from us.  Bob, the Neighbor get's a nice large bill from the phone company later.

We liked to tease him about his expensive mailbox.  Bob was the type of guy that you just had to love.  We told ourselves I don't know how many times that we needed to go out to dinner with them.  But life gets in the way and time moves on.

Bob always had a certain charm about him.  He and his wife had been married for years and you could just tell that he had spent his younger years having a bit too much to drink and getting into several bar fights along the way.  Bob's wife had spent those years somehow managing to tolerate his wild days and they had learned how to mature into a wonderful couple.  From the few times I talked with them, it was evident that Bob had settled down somewhat and  his wife loved him throughout.

They built a big house across the street from us along with 10 acres, installing not only a swimming pool, but digging a big pond, nearly lake size in the very back.  Their boys blessed with them 6 grandkids, at times living with them when they were between houses.  Bob and Betty lived for those grandkids.

In the summer, we would wave across the street when Bob was cutting his grass with his zero-radius turn tractor and in a heavy snowstorm, we would find the two of them in a pickup with a snowblade in our driveway, scraping the snow for us.  More than once, I would slip on some shoes and run Bob out a cold beer for the favor.

Three winters ago, we had a tremendous snow storm.  My company was closing, so I was working from home upstairs.  I heard the noise and I see Bob and Betty in his truck in our drive.  The snow was too deep and I was too busy to take him a beer.  The snow was so bad that Wednesday, they plowed our drive twice, along with everyone else's in the neighborhood. 

They had decided to build an even bigger home a few miles away.  We didn't want to see them go and they had trouble selling the house across from us.  It was right before the real estate downfall, but Bob wanted alot of money for the 10 acres and the house.  ALOT of money.  In the meantime, the new house was being built and Bob had his own plumbing business, specializing in new construction.  New construction was plummeting, houses (especially in the 3/4 million price range) weren't selling.  All in all, it was just plain bad timing. 

March 2007, I was fighting my own demons.  I had just spent 4 days in critical care with septic shock and was shocked at how quickly you can seem healthy and then be fighting for your life and not even realize it.

I was weak but recovering.  Bob and Betty moved to their new home and they got a last minute offer on their house across from us.  A few weeks later, the deal fell through.

At 9:30 p.m. while out celebrating my birthday in early April, I see my doc's name pop up on my cell phone.  An unexpected call from your doc at 9:30 on a Friday night can not be a good sign.

He's reading the reports from my hospital stay in March. The report has nothing to do with the septic shock, but a CAT scan they did while I was there.

"solid mass off the left ovary"

I know what that means.  I had listened to one of my closest friends for five years as her sister fought stage IV ovarian cancer.   I know "solid mass" is rarely good.

Short story.....I see my family doc, we schedule an appointment with my ob/gyn.  I wait to tell the rest of the family.

They had been shaken enough over my little "spell" of the septic shock, bacteremia, pyelonephritis episode just four weeks before.  There is no need to worry them over something (even if it's a solid mass) until I know what we're dealing with.

At the same time we were closing on some additional vacation property in Florida.  My company had shut down and I was talking with another company about a contract position.

But always in the back of my mind is the scary thought that I might have to tell my mother I have ovarian cancer.  I was still incredibly weak from the sepsis.  I would spend a day helping to get our new place put together, then I would be down for a couple days recovering from the energy it took out of me.

And when I would lay down, those dark thoughts would enter my mind.  How in the name of God would I tell my family, my MOTHER that I might have ovarian cancer.  I did not yet even have a diagnosis, but I still felt the guilt. 

So one bright sunny day while we were returning from the beach, Bob's phone rings from one of our neighbors.  Everytime we go through that intersection, I remember that phone call.  Bob, the Neighbor was dead.  It didn't make sense.  He was only 52, how can that be?

At first it seemed like a tragedy, but then more information came through. 

It seemed as though Bob may have gotten themselves into just a bit of financial trouble and with the retraction of the contract, he was even under greater stress.

He had spent the evening at their new home, gone outside to play with the dog, talked with a good friend, then drove to his office.

He wrote a note to both of his boys and one to his wife.  He called her and said he was not coming home.  Then he called 911 and said they would find someone dead at the office, hung up the phone and shot himself in the heart.

I had probably only talked with Bob the Neighbor a half dozen times in the dozen years he lived in the neighborhood.  He was so delightful, helpful and as I said, charming.  But you could also sense that there had always been a selfishness there too.   But no one, no one in the neighborhood would have ever guessed he would have done such a horrible thing to his wife, his sons, his grandkids who adored him and to US. 

Suicide is the ultimate selfish act. 

Tonight Bob and I drove home and looked over at their old house and cried and cursed Bob the Neighbor again.  And we barely knew him.

I was angry when we found out three years ago.  I had been spending days feeling guilty that I might have to tell my family I could have some deadly disease and here was some wonderfully, funny, selfish man who inflicted that horrible pain on his famly that will be etched into their very souls forever. 

I'm still angry.    How could you hurt your grandkids, how could you do that to your sons, how could you leave that pain and guilt on your wife and how is it that you never had a clue of the sadness your suicide would inflict on your friends and neighbors?    And Bob?  I'm sorry I didn't just run through the last of the 3 feet of snow and hand you a beer when you plowed our drive for the last time ever.   There will never be another snowfall that I don't regret not getting you that beer and I won't cuss you out anyway for doing something so selfish, painful and permanent.

Note To Self

When closing the liftgate on your SUV, check EVERYWHERE.

Including where your head is!

Excuse me while I go find the pain killers.

Let's Teach Our Kids Respect for America

Fishin' buddies

Have you ever met someone where there was an instant connection?

You know, within just a couple of minutes your souls bond and nothing....nothing on earth can change it. Not distance, not time, not age, not anything.

Sometimes I think God just sits upstairs and connects two souls just because it's a fun thing to do.

Here are two but for the grace of God would have never, ever met, but now they are related and not just in a family connection.

(Releasing the fish she caught.)


The same is true for her sister and me. There is just simply something there that can't be explained in earthly terms.

If you notice my tight grip on this little girl, I'm pretty sure I have needed her more than she's needed me.

Tony Stewart's Underwear

OK, I must be on a video streak, but this is just too funny. (Awwww, I hate it when the video overtakes the rest of the screen.)