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Monday, May 31, 2010

Facebooking No More

I have permanently deleted (not just deactivated) my Facebook account.  Having been on Facebook since 2005, it's difficult to say goodbye, but it feels so good to walk away.  My life does not revolve around checking status updates or following who likes what.  I will miss seeing pictures of my cousins' children, but that sacrifice comes with deactivation.

I think bloggy has been updated 75% or so... a few more tweaks, additions, and minor edits left to do.  Using Google's suite as a replacement for Facebook seems to work well.  Picasa allows me to post some pictures publicly while keep some pictures more private.  G-mail allows me to post status updates and IM with friends.  Overall, I'm just as available as ever, but there's a bit of disconnect to overcome without Facebook.

Oh, and my life is finally Farmville free.  I never played the damn game, but it was impossible to get away from the constant nagging suggestion or updates from friends--even though I hid the game and blocked it, the updates continued.  Good riddance!

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Rain, Rain, DON'T Go Away!

Allergy season is on in full force here at Chez Jaggy.  I am almost out of Singulair, so it's time for a visit to the doctor.  I don't understand why the doctor even needs to see me to prescribe Singulair.  As if listening to my chest or taking my temperature will suddenly cure hay fever...  It's not like I'm seeking a controlled substance either.  Singulair doesn't exactly make me feel like I have superpowers: it just allows me to breathe normally (a blessed occurrence to be certain).  Why won't a phone call once a year suffice for an annual visit?

"This is Jaggy, I still have allergies, send me Singulair."
"But you need to see the doctor in person."
"Why? So they make money off the insurance company for my allergies, a disease that will inevitably be considered a pre-existing condition whenever I need fancy drugs?"
"...yes.  And because the doctor needs to know how tall you are.  Again.  Sorry, we didn't write it down the other eleven times."

I just want the Singulair without a stupid office visit to confirm that, yes, I still have allergies.  How hard is that?

Until I get the drug, however, the rain can keep on stickin' around.  While it can make allergies worse by breaking up the pollen particles, it also keeps the air a bit cleaner.  And the grass greener.  And the world so much prettier under a gray sky.  I love rain. :)

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Updated Blog Design

I got bored with black and white. While I love damask patterns, they're sort of overwhelming and obnoxious after a bit. Time for some color.

I had a difficult time deciding the final color scheme. The Man and his brother insisted that my former damask pattern was contemplative and formal, a good fit for me. But it was boring. I'm not into pastels, and I wanted to maintain the lighter background behind the text, so this is what worked. Much thanks to Hot Biggety Blog for the image and Pixie for the help with color selection.

As a side note today, I visited a Wal-Mart for the first time in probably five years. I was quickly reminded of why I avoid those stores: incredibly obese people in high concentrations, families with far too many children (put them on leashes, seriously!), and not enough clothing on people who need to wear more. I felt weird walking out of the store, as if I had some of my soul smushed by corporate greed and cheap Chinese lead-laced melamine milk. *shudder*

But I got new drawer shelving systems for my crafting supplies, so I have an evening of sorting and reorganizing ahead. Finally!

Thursday, May 27, 2010

If it's not jealousy, what is it?

It's impossible not to play the comparing game. As hard as I try, comparing happens. And try as I might, the grass always seems greener on the other side.

As our friends have purchased houses and cars, filled their houses, and planned their luxury vacations, it's hard to watch and not be able to join in. They are buying fancy things like pianos and grills and nice furniture. They are buying multiple motorcycles, boats, guns, and mountains of clothes, seasonal wardrobes even. Our friends are dropping lots of money on toys.

Watching that spending is difficult for me. I'm not jealous of their stuff. I don't want motorcycles, guns, or a grill. I am not the type of person to even have a seasonal wardrobe. It's not the items themselves but that these friends can buy things. Our friends have purchasing power. What's more, I have to wonder how much of it is being put on credit cards or taken out in loans.

Where are my friends getting their millions to be able to afford fancy things? Are they scraping by just to be able to get items that somehow help them keep up with the neighbors? Or are they living beyond their means? Are they borrowing (or mooching) from their parents?

I'm not jealous of their stuff. I have stuff. I like my stuff. I don't necessarily need more stuff. I would, however, like to have the opportunity to have choices when it comes to getting stuff... and we're slowly gaining momentum in that department. But it's so incredibly hard to watch the spend-spend-spend my 20-something compadres love to do.

Am I being tested in some greater cosmic way? Am I supposed to be learning frugality and poverty as a greater life lesson? What is the good in not having choices?

How is the grass greener on this side?

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Mr. Stitchy's Revenge

Jamming, grinding, and groaning to a halt. That was my experience Monday night when attempting to sew the last two straight lines on my wall hanging project. My poor little sewing machine had been performing beautifully until then, so I was quite shocked to hear it sputtering so badly. I cleared out all of the jammed threads, grabbed some scrap fabric, and tried again. Jam. Cleared the jam again, tried again. Jam. Crap. I took the bobbin out to see if maybe I missed something, made sure the bobbin was in correctly, checked for hidden threads I'd perhaps missed, and closed 'er up to try again. Jam. Damn. After an hour of careful checking and re-checking, I determined that the top thread wasn't pulling up the bobbin thread correctly.

That's about the point where I put my sewing machine away to try again another day. I was too frustrated to even look at it. I'm not a sewing machine genius, but I knew I had a good needle, correctly wound bobbins inserted the right direction, and a good machine. So I covered it up and walked away. Pffft.

After doing some online research the following day, I sat down Tuesday night with new determination to fix my machine. Nothing short of a complete disaster or electrical malfunction would make me take it in to get a tune-up. C'mon, it's a sewing machine, not open heart surgery.

I removed the needle and presser foot and had to remove a couple screws to get the throat plate off. The bobbin came out easily, and the bobbin hook followed with little difficulty. I brushed out the feed dogs and each piece before I replaced it. As the owner's manual suggested, I put two drops of oil inside the bobbin case on the race and cranked the hand wheel a few times. Smoooooooth.

Giving it a go, I closed everything up and rethreaded my machine. After a quick prayer, I plugged it in and let loose on a scrap. Everything worked perfectly. The machine is quieter than before. It hums. It purrs. I smiled, proud that I fixed it myself for free instead of paying to have the machine serviced.

And then, on my lunch break, I ran to JoAnn's to get ribbon to finish my project. It's ordinarily $2 for three yards. I need about thirty yards... eek. I didn't really want to pay $20. Dismayed, I walked over to the notions to look for new and interesting things. When I turned around, I saw an end base ("end cap") full of ribbon. The exact ribbon I wanted, black 1/4" satin, was on 10-yard spools for $.50 each. SCORE! So I got forty yards of ribbon, more than plenty, for $2. I love bargains...

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Shoyu Chicken (just like Local Boyz)

Okay, okay, here it is! Here's the recipe for shoyu chicken just like you'd find at Local Boyz.

1 C water
1 C soy sauce (I use a little less of the sodium-free Kikkoman)
1 C lightly packed brown sugar (give or take; I'm a giver)
1 tsp ginger (the granulated stuff works just fine)
1 tsp garlic (powdered, again, cheap and easy; don't substitute with garlic salt!)
splash of vinegar (maybe a tablespoon? leave it out if you don't have any)
4-6 whole chicken breasts or thighs or mix-and-match pieces--they'll fall apart on their own

Throw it all in a crock pot, give it a quick stir, set on high for four hours (low for six hours), and walk away. The recipe is perfect for starting on your lunch hour if you can run home--and then it's done when you get home after work! When there is a half-hour remaining on the timer, set your rice to cook. I make 3 cups of white rice in a rice cooker so there is plenty for two people plus leftovers.

This dish will reheat fabulously, so go ahead and make a bunch at once. Increase the ingredients to make more. My average-sized crock pot could easily handle a double batch. I'm not sure it's possible to cook this in a crock pot and make less than my recipe... though you could try it on the stovetop in a pot simmering on low for an hour or two. Use half the ingredients for two small chicken breasts. The stovetop method is the fastest, but the texture of 'fally-aparty' meat won't be the same.

As previously noted, I've accidentally thrown in pork cutlets with the chicken, and that was delicious too. Even steak might work. All of my meat gets trimmed insanely well, so there are no weird pieces like I've sometimes found at the restaurant--another bonus of home-cooked food.

Note on frozen meat: I've always been told never to put frozen meat into a crock pot. The meat apparently will stay in the "danger zone" too long. If you remember to defrost your meat before you put it in the crock pot, great! I forget often. I have thrown frozen meat into cold liquid and left it for six hours multiple times and not been sick. Maybe don't make a habit out of it.

DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with the Corvallis establishment Local Boyz. I have never been anything other than an occasional patron there. This recipe is as close to tasting like their shoyu chicken as I can approximate and was achieved through trial and error on my own part.

Monday, May 24, 2010

It looked like chicken in the freezer...

I'll admit, I'm not a culinary guru. I'm also not a total idiot either. I know the basics of kitchen safety, food safety, and flavor profiles. But last night my knowledge did not shine.

I was in the mood for no-fuss food, so I tossed some ingredients and meat in my crock pot to make my super tasty version of Local Boyz shoyu chicken. I had two packages of meat in the freezer, pink-peachy meat frozen solid. Tossed both of them in, some pre-cut chicken and some larger pieces that I swore were chicken breasts.

Four hours later, I lifted the lid to check on the meat when I very quickly realized that the chicken breasts had somehow morphed into pork cutlets. Both meats look pink-peachy when frozen, covered in frost, and inside a freezer bag, so I didn't really feel stupid, but I did a little bit.

Reluctantly, I pulled a pork cutlet from the dark sauce and dropped it onto a plate to survey the damage. It flaked apart beautifully. I gave it a taste and discovered the most amazing flavors! Aside from a textural difference, the flavor was perfectly matched with the chicken. The Man and I both devoured almost the entire lot of rice and meat. I had just enough leftovers for lunch this afternoon. I do believe I might have to "accidentally" make that mistake again!

Local Boyz has nothin' on my shoyu chicken/pork deliciousness. Nothin'.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

The Most Awesome Mental Health Day Ever

I decided Wednesday night that I needed a day off. Seeing that the schedule was open and that I have tons of vacation saved up, I opted to take Friday off. Friday was awesome. Friday was amazing. Friday was relaxing and therapeutic and just what I needed.

The day started early with a trip to Albany to get a couple inches whacked off my hair. For once, I got the exact cut I wanted. It'll take a bit more effort to retrain my hair some, but that shouldn't take too long. The right side seems to cooperate better than the left.

After a hair cut, I popped into the craft store to get fabric. I'm by no means a quilter, but I found an awesome pattern online that kept yelling at me to work on, so I bought a bunch of fabric quarters and planned out my afternoon and evening.

After noon, The Man came home from work, and we had lunch together while my fabric washed and dried. I watched a movie while ironing. The Man took a nap. I cut out all of my pieces--144 of them. By the end of the day, I had four nine-piece sections stitched and the rest ready to be sewn. We had a yummy spicy penne dish for dinner, and we even had time to watch a few TV shows late Friday night.

Saturday arrived too early with a trip to the grocery store. We took back our $5+ worth of pop cans and bought TWO watermelons. They're super ripe and sweet. Though I'd prefer to pay $0.19/lb like in the middle of summer to get Hermiston watermelons, I was pretty satisfied with $4 each for imported ones. For out-of-season deliciousness that The Man and I both love, I'll suffer $4.

We had some friends over for brunch this morning, a true adventure finding enough seating for six people in our tiny apartment. The food was pretty good... my muffins weren't burned at least, thankfully. I have to admit my ever-so-slight disappointment that I finally had professional photographers in our apartment and none of my photography was hanging on the walls. :( I used to have lots of pictures of my own hanging, but we took them down when we hung wedding pictures. It's not like I need to feel vindicated, but somehow it feels like a bigger pat on the shoulder when it's a "professional" compliment versus one from my husband (who is required to be impressed by my attempts). Oh well. I'll keep my camera and my pictures to myself. I'm only taking them for me anyway.

In any case, the apartment is spotless, the chores are done, the kitchen is stocked, The Man is happy, and I'm feeling crafty. Time to go sew fabric together!

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Goodbye, Facebook

I had a moment this last weekend where I realized Facebook wasn't doing me any good. I was sitting around a table with my husband, sister, grandma, and cousins when I thought to myself, "I have no questions to ask my family. We stay in touch so much that nothing is ever new or worthy of discussion anymore." Rather than sever ties with family, I'm opting to discontinue using Facebook.

There are several other reasons why I'm walking away from the single largest social media outlet.

1) When I joined Facebook in 2005, it was a social tool that allowed me to communicate with other students at OSU. I could decide who saw my name, picture, and information. There were no fancy applications, no chat feature, and certainly no family members. As Facebook has grown from a small community of schools to an open network, I've lost track of why I joined in the first place. I've gone through purges, deleted information and added info anew, and been dismayed to see my privacy sucked away update by update. Facebook no longer offers a safe haven of information isolated from the prying eyes of family or friends. (Not that I have anything to hide, but sometimes it's nice to post, "parents just don't understand!" without them seeing it.)

2) Anything can be posted by anyone at any time, and it links back to me. If someone posts a picture of me doing a keg stand (ha!), and then they tag me, my entire family and friends network will see the atrocity. Short of removing the tag from the picture, there's nothing I can do to remove the picture itself. And I'm not okay with people posting embarrassing pictures of me. Sure, even if I leave Facebook entirely, people can still post embarrassing pictures about me, but that means they'll have to get the pictures first...

3) "You're invited to a party!" "Join the 'I hate Twilight' group!" and "I lost my phone so send me your numbers event!" are common invitations that I've come to hate. The only invitations I really need are to weddings, birthday parties, and baby showers. Everything else can be done with a phone call. If I'm important enough to be invited, then hopefully that person darn well has my phone number. I'm done with electronic, meaningless, utterly pointless invitations.

4) The newsfeed went from bad to worse to flat-out awful. I used to have to actively pursue my friends' profiles to stay on top of their lives (we called this stalking way back when). Now, every time a person clicks on their profile and changes one word, they fill up my newsfeed with their garbage. I don't care if you're most like a purple crayon or that you are 74.6% angelic or that you're a fan of Megatron. I don't care.

5) Games with no point. Most games have very little "point" when you think about it, but there's a difference between playing Scrabble or Cribbage than Farmville. I never did get into Farmville, thankfully, though I was dogged with my Restaurant City determination. What did I learn from RC? Absolutely nothing. The games are lame at best. I prefer to play free games online that don't require me to be signed in and competing with friends constantly. Life isn't a competition, so why would I want my online presence to be one?

6) I do not like "like." Also, I would enjoy seeing a "dislike" button. I am not a "fan" of anything, and I very rarely "like" something beyond a status update. My opinion of your new degree, weekend adventure, or awesome pictures doesn't need to be known by the entire world. If it's a great achievement or noteworthy event, I'll let you know in more words than "like."

7) I do not need help finding people or discovering new pages online. I get tired of Facebook telling me I need to talk to a person or that I should join a group that six other friends joined. I'm not a sheep. I'm smart enough to realize that I haven't spoken to my husband online is six months--never mind that we just made dinner together or hugged or laughed ourselves silly with nary an electronic device in sight.

8) And finally, privacy. If I decide to put something online, I want to know whether it's "safe" or not. Facebook used to be "safe" when only people I chose could see my pictures or notes or status. But since Facebook changed their policy to keep all uploads forever, I've systematically removed data. My blog is public--and anything there is under a Creative Commons License--so I know that my blog is 100% open. Facebook tries to be sneaky, and I'm not okay with their policy.

I desire spontaneous conversation and staying connected in real life as opposed to fictitious friends and being overly involved in meaningless competition or dramatic needs for attention. If I decide to link my blog to other places, that's my choice. I am not comfortable with Facebook's "right" to network me to the whole world.

MySpace, likewise, will disappear from my life.

My profile will be deactivated by the end of the month. To maintain contact with me, stick around on bloggy. I have an e-mail address that I share with friends and family (not the general public as a rule). I can also be contacted by telephone, text message, my work e-mail during the daytime, Google Wave, and through my mother if the need arises. In order to maintain picture sharing capabilities, I'm switching to Google's Picasa Web Albums. If that's not enough connection, then I don't know what is!

Goodbye, Facebook, goodbye.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Marriage will NOT solve problems

As I've participated in weddings in the last few years and attended several others, I've been amazed at the number of people marrying in the hopes of solving their problems. I know one couple who married out of impatience, another who married to prevent the female from having to return to her parents' house after college, and one who had already had children and finally tied the knot rather than deal with a custody battle (happy day right there).

Marriage will not solve problems.

I had to think of my own marriage and the experiences I've had since last October. Marriage has not solved a single problem, and has, in fact, caused much difficulty and frustration.

Since I got married, or engaged in any case, I've visited a hospital approximately 400% more per year than before we met. My financial situation went from bad to worse (although now I have someone to share those difficulties with). My intelligence has been called into question numerous times, including about electronics and how to clean--things that were never a problem until The Man showed up. Speaking of cleaning, I used to clean about once every two weeks. I now have to clean more than once each week just to keep up. Other chores like cooking, doing the dishes, and even making the bed take longer and require more planning. Freedom--one of the things I relished upon moving away from my parents--has vanished. It's not that I don't get to choose what I want to do, but now I have to consult with someone about my plans early and often. Freedom can be approximated to living in a zoo: you're not really caged, but there's only so far you can go before you piss off something that can maul you to death. And then there is the intimacy, communication, and sensitivity that is a constant, nagging requirement. It's really hard trying to balance needs and wants, desires and nagging requests.

And that's just my side of the story: I'm sure he could write a book about his new problems too!

Marriage will not solve problems. Unless you're comfortable being alone, stupid, annoyed, hungry, poor, chained down, and with yourself as a person, I can't recommend marriage. It's going to be WAY too hard unless you're comfortable with you.

Thankfully we're both working very hard at trying to make our marriage successful. The one pay-off that I've been able to figure out is that, regardless of all the icky stuff, I have someone fighting on my side and in my best interest. There's someone to go home to, someone to be with, someone who cares. And that's everything.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Shell Falls

Great little spot in the Santiam Forest, the bottom twenty feet of a fifty or sixty foot waterfall. It's about an hour hike in to find this one, but the hike is pretty level. The only real terrain is on the dirt path nearest the falls.

Unlike the popular walk-behind-waterfall neighbor at Silver Falls State Park, this walk-behind-waterfall is relatively undiscovered. There's no railing, but it's not quite as steep as North Falls.

The Man, his parents, and I made this trek on the day before Mother's Day. We had a great time walking and talking, checking out the nearby cows in the meadow, and enjoying one of the first perfect spring days Oregon offers.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Feeling Off

A week with only two blog posts? Why do I suddenly feel like I've inadvertently committed blog suicide? Eek!

I haven't been up to much lately, so I haven't felt the need to blog. I get up, go to work, come home, veg on the couch, go to bed, and do it all over again. The Man and I haven't done anything exciting lately.

With Facebook being dumb about privacy, I've reduced my status there to zero profile information and just a few picture albums to share with family and friends. I've removed all of the applications I no longer visit daily. My online presence is dwindling.

The Man and I did go out Friday night with friends, and we went out to breakfast with family this morning. That's the extent of our travels.

I've found it very difficult to find attractive orange beads.

This weekend has not been productive. I must go get some laundry started soon.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Bra Sizes are Not All Equal

I went wedding dress shopping with my sister yesterday to look for her perfect dress. Without naming names, we went to the Wal-Mart of wedding dress stores (not actually Wal-Mart). The apathetic front desk lady was barely computer competent, though she did get her job done in a timely manner. As soon as she could, she introduced my sister to her consultant, a thrillingly boring woman with several tape measures draped around her neck.

Tape measures, ladies, are not fashion accessories. I don't care how crafty you are.

She took my sister's measurements and asked her what bra size she wears. For the sake of propriety, I'll select a size at random rather than give you her true measurements. Pretend my sister is a 34D. That is not a hard bra size to find. But since Dress-4-Less-Mart only carries three insanely small sizes, Measuring Tape Girl decided to blurt out, "oh, 34D, that's the same as a 36C." My sister stared at her. She blinked. She turned to me. I blinked at her. We said nothing.

We could have put up a fight, but my sister's size is difficult to find in department stores. She'd brought along a wonderful bra that fit perfectly, but Dress-4-Less-Mart makes women wear their undergarments, no exception. I remember from my experience in another branch of the same nightmare chain store being quite similar. I'm an easier size to fit than my sister, and they didn't even have a bra in my size!

Measuring Tape Girl: not all bras are the same size. Just because you go up in cup size and down in band size does NOT mean a bra will magically fit. A 36A bra will not fit a 34B or a 32C girl. Changing one of the digits could possibly work... a 34B woman could possibly fit into a 34C for trying-on purposes. Changing both the band and the cup is NOT RIGHT.

Guys: this is equivalent to another man telling you that if you wear 32L/32W jeans and they don't have any 32L/32W, they'll just go down to a 30L and pick a 34W to make up for the difference.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Stayton-Jordan Bridge

One of the first pictures with the new camera!

This is the Stayton-Jordan Bridge that sits over a small canal/creek/river/stream/water feature in Stayton Park.

Beautiful day for picture taking, beautiful surroundings, great picnic spot, and lots of fun.

Sunday, May 09, 2010

Happy 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, and 27th birthdays to me!

I wanted to get myself something amazing for my 21st birthday (since I wasn't planning a big drinking bash anyway). I've been a photographer, however amateur, since high school, so I researched cameras and selected a nice point-and-shoot camera to buy myself. You'll have to go back in time with me to 2004, waaaaay back to when digital cameras were common but not very cheap. I chose a five megapixel camera with 3x optical zoom. It was three hundred dollars. For a point-and-shoot, 5MP was a big deal. 3x optical zoom was a really big deal--few, if any, cameras then had anything but digital zoom. The same camera today is available with a few more megapixels for just about the same price. But Sony has a serious image stabilization problem, and I've fought that issue since the day I bought the camera. Without using a tripod, I have to be perfectly still or be shooting at the highest speed in full sunlight for the pictures to not be blurry. Indoor or candlelight, forget it. The camera served me well through college and has taken over eight thousand pictures since 2004. I've used it well, and cared for it very well. And I've always dreamed of having something a little bit better.

When DSLR cameras, the big fancy ones with long lenses, hit the affordable market in about 2006, my mouth started watering. I learned to take pictures with long-lens cameras (film, of course), so I've always wanted something I knew how to use. To break into the DSLR market would have set me back at least $1200 for the body in 2006, and each year I pined away--and walked away. Prices dropped around the holidays, but they never fell below $1000. Stores would hold "mega sales" on every product but their cameras. Finally, in about 2008, the ever-popular Canons dropped down around $800. Ugh. Still too much money, especially since I was living paycheck-to-paycheck. My trusty Sony would have to do.

Last week, I was stumbling around online when I found a review of a DSLR camera. The author went over every detail, highlighting the many, many pros and the every-so-few cons. I fell in love all over again (no offense to The Man). I looked elsewhere online to find reviews, and the overwhelming majority of opinions online were positive. Even Amazon has a 4+ star rating with more than a hundred reviews, and that's really saying something. So I knew what model I wanted, I just needed to find a price I liked. Prices varied online from $650 to $900, and the average was right around $750 for the camera and lens only. Shoot.

I started building my case. I thought about it for a few days. I talked it over with The Man. I did more price shopping. I looked at similar cameras from other brands and quickly realized how much I was getting for $750, so I knew I was in the right market. *sigh* Would my prized camera remain a dream forever?

Late Friday night, rather than blogging, I was surfing Best Buy's website for cameras when I found a kit price at $699. Camera body, lens, all of the camera's accessories, and a free carrying bag included. Holy freaking crap.

Yeah. And the Salem store had one in stock. One. And we were heading to Salem first thing in the morning anyway. And The Man has an income, we owe nothing on our credit cards, and we have money left over from our tax returns, more than plenty for the camera, and I'd already waited six years, and I am taking engagement pictures later this month so the timing couldn't have been better. *pant pant* The stars had aligned! (I'm so dramatic, haha)

So we went to Salem, bought the camera, had it opened and ready to take pictures within the hour, and went in search of waterfalls. Thank you to the friendly people at Nikon who give out pre-charged batteries so kids like me don't have to wait overnight to take pictures with pretty new cameras. Thank you to the memory card people for putting your cards on sale the exact same day I need to buy one. And thank you to Adam, the nice guy who helped me research the serial number to make sure my new camera wasn't part of the recall before I even had it out of the store.

I had to give up getting a laptop or the matching wedding band to my ring for a while, but neither of those things are things I'll lose sleep over. If I'd passed up a sale like the one I got, I'd be kicking myself forever.

That's the saga of how I acquired a shiny new camera. *grin!*

Thursday, May 06, 2010

An Ode to my Missing Piano

I haven't played a piano in probably six months. The very thought of that sent waves of anger, sadness, betrayal, and many other overly-dramatic emotions through me this afternoon. I miss it. I miss the feeling of those smooth, white keys as my fingers hover over and press them deftly. I miss the sound of a piano, the very soft tinks and lumbering clangs that drove my parents to the brink of madness when I was just starting out. I miss the sight of music notes, odd as that seems. I miss the clefs and staffs and wings on notes, the beauty of written music. And I miss the adrenaline of performing ever so slightly, just enough that it brings back memories of concerts and recitals, but not quite so much that I am daring to go out and do it all over again.

Why don't I have a piano? I had one growing up, and I stored my parents' piano when they lived in a rental house while their new house was being built. I tried to get by living in my apartment by using a cheap digital keyboard, but it didn't have enough keys and the right sound to do my heart good. It also couldn't hold big songbooks or more than two pages at a time, so I gave up on that device. After we got married, I didn't have room in our apartment to set up a piano anyway.

I am a pianist without a piano. I have a wonderful husband, a nice apartment, plenty of food, books galore, everything I need to live a contented life. Except a piano. And until I find myself at a real piano, or at least a weighted-key digital substitute, my life will certainly be missing a tiny fraction of my identity. Tiny, but important, my piano...

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Two Incomes are Better than One

We are both employed! For the first time since we were dating, we are both earning money. The Man recently found work not quite full-time, and we received his first paycheck yesterday! Such a long time coming, such a very, very long time.

I've heard people complain that they're not making enough money or that they never have money left over at the end of the month--and these are childless two-income families. Having survived the last six months married on an income that would make an anorexic penny-pincher cringe, my sympathy level for their plight is, oh, about nil.

I have to admit, though, it's not like we've "suffered." Though we didn't always get to do what we wanted, we lived pretty well as poor people. We both learned useful skills, and we are quite adept at repurposing now. We entertained ourselves and each other without paying for movies, games, or expensive trips. Sure, we wanted those things (I'd be lying if I said we didn't miss them). One big lesson in learning the value of a dollar is also learning the value of time. Money comes and goes, comes and goes, but time just goes. Sometimes quickly, sometimes agonizingly slow, but it always goes.

We've also learned what "net pay" is and how little "gross pay" actually means. I can make a billion dollars a year, but if my net pay is only $15,000, the rest of it doesn't exactly matter. So next time I get a job, forget gross pay, the only number I really care about is the take-home pay. Benefits are great--and mine are good--but what good is a life insurance policy when I don't have the money to buy an apple?

We've been married over six months, and living on one meager paycheck hasn't been easy. I have to admit, though, we've never argued about money. We haven't had money to argue about! ;) Even with a small income, we've added a hefty chunk to our savings and never dipped into it to inflate our checking account. We're starting to feel proud (not prideful, just... well, satisfied) of ourselves for managing our dimes so carefully, and with a little extra income, we're rewarding ourselves ever so slightly.

Bring on the video games and craft stuff!

Oh, and a new car, a house, the end of our student loans, and kids. Bring on the choices. How we've longed for those. :)

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

"Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words when necessary."

In my short time as a Catholic, these words have hit home so many times. I read them early, and I've seen them often. Even more, I've realized their truth.

Today, though, I discovered a piece of writing that seeks to refute St. Francis' words. Even if they aren't really from St. Francis, they're powerful words. I think the author of the article was offended that some Catholic dude figured out an effective method of evangelization a thousand years before he did. He also seemed to think insulting St. Francis would be a good headline... how very grown-up of you, Ray Comfort.

Why are words necessary? Why do we have to cram words down people's throats in order to change them? Why do we need to talk at them when we can be working with them?

Without a doubt, the reason Mr. Comfort disputes St. Francis is "works." That's a bad word in the Protestant lexicon to be certain, yet it's exactly what is needed by Christians everywhere. Rather than bashing on those who don't live up to your standards, why not look within and live a better life yourself--and then don't throw stones at others. It doesn't always take words so show a Christian lifestyle.

My parents didn't always instruct me with words on how to behave when I was growing up. They showed me so much by example, and it's those examples that make me want to be better far more than getting slapped on the hand or yelled at or spoken with. It's the walk, not the talk that led me to be who I am.

And it's the manner of the people that I love about Catholicism. Sure, we get preached at in church, but my husband doesn't tell me that I'm going to hell because I looked at him with lust before we were married (yeah, total sinner, my bad). My mother-in-law doesn't scorn me for wearing pants. The Man's family didn't cast him out for marrying a "convert." I never got lectured or reprimanded or anything but welcomed into the Catholic Church.

I'm not trying to put Protestants down at all here, not one bit. My story about Catholics is my experience and opinion (however biased). I am refuting those who who think Bible thumping is the best course of evangelization. It's about as effective as throwing cotton balls gently against a concrete wall to make it crumble.

Use words when necessary, indeed. Use words. Words are tools of communication. There's nothing bad about using words. But rather equipping yourself with a load of words, why not try stocking your shelves with kindness, compassion, and grace. Learn "I'm sorry" first, and then you can work on the Bible thumping.

Monday, May 03, 2010

Some days I hate being an adult.
Some days I wish I could open my mouth and let the truth fly.
Some days I want to walk away.

Today was one of those days.
I need some craft therapy.

Sunday, May 02, 2010

Pack Rat Central

If you ever want motivation to clean or organize, one episode of How Clean is Your House should do the trick. I know I can be a pack rat, but at least I feel like what I have is clean. My counters are wiped down at least daily if not more, and the entire apartment is cleaned weekly. Somehow, though, that whole "dusting" thing doesn't exactly fit into my grand cleaning plan. When we rearranged the living room this weekend, we took a ton of dust off the surfaces. Thankfully we're both already medicated for outdoor allergies that a little dust didn't seem to bother us.

I tried really hard last summer to clean out a bunch of my pack rat habits. The childhood toys were mostly donated. The stacks of books were whittled down and sold or given away. Even my closet was resorted and shucked of unnecessary items. One thing I didn't touch, though, was my financial records. Nobody ever told me how long to keep things, so I just kept everything.

I had receipts for every purchase made by debit or credit card dating back to 2001 when I opened my very first checking account. A receipt for every meal eaten out not paid with cash. A receipt for every fly swatter, roll of toilet paper, and box of cereal. Don't get me wrong, they were all neatly organized and sorted by month along with the corresponding bank statement. I was very responsible in watching my account and making sure I was actually the one spending money by verifying at the end of the month with a receipt...

Okay, okay, perhaps the 2001-2008 receipts were a bit overkill. I've shredded everything up to 2010 except tax statements, anything related to my student loan, all of my year-end pay stubs, and my medical files. Part of me feels a sort of nostalgic attachment to that very first job's pay stub, but the money is long-gone, so who am I kidding by keeping it?

It feels good to get rid of excess paperwork. The files have been purged. I'm lighter now.

Let's just hope I never need the 2004 receipt for a pair of shoes I no longer even have... ;)

Saturday, May 01, 2010

800 square feet is not enough for two people

One bed, one toilet, one comfy chair. We are making the most out of a small apartment! This afternoon, The Man and I rearranged our living room/office/dining room/entry. Yes, one room really can serve as four purposes. Unfortunately the room is divided into two-thirds carpet and one-third linoleum. It's a long room with doors at both ends. Neither door is conveniently placed. And we have a 7' futon to fit into the mix.

We ended up covering a wall heater for the summer. We'll have to move things around a bit when winter comes if we're still in the same place, but that's do-able. We pulled the couch away from the window and set it out into the room to divide it into "living room" and "office." The Man's computer is in the living room, and mine is in the bedroom. It's nice to have our own "office" spaces. He's thankful to have room to lean back in his chair finally!

The TV is now against a wall instead of hovering behind the shoe rack with a visible tangle of cords just as you walk in the door. The ugly-but-well-loved-and-super-comfy rocker is behind the shoe rack now, and it can be pulled easily over by the couch if we have people over for movies.

In addition to rearranging furniture today, we did two weeks worth of grocery shopping (not including milk), made bread, baked enchiladas for dinner, finished an embroidered towel, and worked on my Wedding Manifesto. Still on the To-Do list this weekend: laundry, baking cookies, and organizing my files and the filing cabinet. I might also work on a bead project I've been thinking about... and Mass, of course.


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Sridevi’s ‘Mom’ averts clash with ‘Jagga Jasoos’, ‘Chef’ and ‘Haseena’

Published : 21 Apr 2017, 17:10

Jagoroniya Desk

Bollywood was gearing up to witness a four-way box-office clash on July 14 – according to reports, Sridevi’s ‘Mom’, Ranbir Kapoor’s ‘Jagga Jasoos’, Saif Ali Khan’s ‘Chef’ remake and Shraddha Kapoor’s ‘Haseena: The Queen Of Mumbai’ was expected to hit the screens on the same date. While many wondered which film would be the first one to budge, recent reports suggest that Sridevi’s film ‘Mom’ has opted out of the race.

The release date of the thriller drama has been advanced by a week to July 7. This means that ‘Mom’, which also stars Akshaye Khanna and Nawazuddin Siddiqui, will enjoy one week’s unperturbed business at the ticket windows.

Will the remaining three films stick to the release date of July 14? Let’s wait and watch.

Source: indiatimes

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Wednesday, 18 February 2009

Back in the 80's a Bible College in Dallas produced a whole series of praise and worship tapes which at the time would have been considered "cutting edge". The name of the college is Christ for the Nations Institute.

I wondered if they were still around and producing praise and worship material, so I did a search on YouTube. I found some excellent clips there of what they have been doing.

It's good stuff. This song is called Running. For me the clip above exemplifies charismatic / pentecostal praise and worship at its best. Led rather than driven / performed. Focused outwardly - on Jesus, rather than inwardly - on me and my hang ups. Structured yet spontaneous - the spontaneous bit lasts for over five minutes. And best of all everyone is entering in.

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Posted by : Jameson Durall Monday, August 06, 2007

I'm trying to figure out which sport my son will likely want to play and at this point I think he's going to be like me: play them all

  • he can already shoot a basket from about 10 feet away(on his basketball goal in the living room)
  • he throws a plastic baseball at me so hard and accurate from 15 feet away that it hurts if i miss it
  • he can already run leading a soccer ball and kick it directly to me
He's 3...

yes, i'm a proud dad.

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Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Sittin' On Top of The World

Our good friend, Chris Sutton, has invited The Flood to play at the Huntington Blues Society's gathering at the V Club downtown next week, so in our rehearsal last night, we dusted off a few tunes for the set. But we'd almost finished the evening when we realized we'd left off the list one of our favorite blues, The Mississippi Sheiks' version of "Sittin' on Top of the World." Well, here's the number and our vote to include it in next Wednesday evening's program.

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Saturday, January 9, 2016

Book Review: The Secret of Dreadwillow Carse by Brian Farrey

I had the opportunity to read a digital-ARC of this book from NetGalley. In this modern fairy tale, two adolescent girls from two completely different walks of life team up to discover the dark secrets of Dreadwillow Carse. Queen Sula is dying and her twelve-year-old daughter, Princess Jeniah is set to ascend to power. Aon Greenlaw is a peasant girl who lives in the town of Emberfell.
As Jeniah is preparing to become a queen, she learns of the existence of Dreadwillow Carse, a dark and disturbing marsh in the kingdom. Queen Sula warns her that she must never go there: "The people rely on us to maintain peace and prosperity. And it is written in the oldest books: If any monarch enters Dreadwillow Carse, then the Monarchy will fall." This warning only makes Jeniah more determined to find out just what is in this forbidden bog.

Aon has always been secretly drawn to Dreadwillow Carse. She keeps her fascination to herself, because the kingdom is a happy and peaceful land. Everyone is happy all the time, and the expression of sadness of any sort is seen as being disrespectful to the monarchy. She visits the edges of the Carse, can hear a "sad, haunting waltz" coming from deep within the Carse, but is always forced to leave by the misery and terror that consumes her.

The princess and Aon meet each other at the edge of the Carse. Aon rescues Jeniah from the carnivorous bramble that has ahold of her. Aon agrees to explore the Carse for Jeniah to find out the reason she's forbidden to enter. But when Aon doesn't come back out of the bog, Jeniah is compelled to go in to find her.

There is so much that I really enjoyed about this book. The characters are very accessible to young readers. Even though this is a fairy tale, the girls have thoughts, feelings, and motives that we all can recognize. Brian Farrey's style of character development reminds me a lot of Red: The True Story of Little Red Riding Hood by Liesl Shurtliff .

Farrey describes the setting beautifully. I can picture the kingdom so well, and would love to climb into the book and explore it. From the nooks and crannies of Nine Towers (the castle) to the heart of Dreadwillow Carse, the descriptions and details are so vivid, that I'm drawn into it, much like the characters are drawn into the Carse.

The story moves along quickly. As the characters make their way deeper and deeper into the mystery, there is plenty of suspense and tension. The characters are faced with danger, tough decisions, and grief and I wasn't sure what was going to happen right up to the end. I believe this book is going to be popular with middle grade students. I think this would be an awesome addition to my classroom library.

Hardcover, 240 pages
Expected publication: April 19, 2016 by Algonquin Young Readers

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One More for the Road

imageOf course. That’s what you’ll say when I tell you I decided around 2:00 yesterday afternoon to make Just One More Top for the trip.

I wanted to try Katherine Tilton’s Butterick 5961 one more time. I still had some of the peacock RPL from my View C. I had also gotten some “army green” of the same fabric. Their army green is really closer to an avocado.

So I made View A/B and cut it two inches longer.

To counteract the floppiness of the collar, I took the lightweight interfacing that I had used for the hems on View C, tugged to see where it had the most stretch, and cut a full collar out of that and fused to the collar. Because it wasn’t a true bias, the collar came out wonky, which I really like. I

I also cut a 1.5″ strip of the teal the same length as the collar and drew lines on it with a lime Fabrico pen. I folded it and basted to one long edge of the collar, so it peeks out of that seam. You have to invade my personal space to see the stripes, but I know they’re there.

Finally, to finish tying the teal and green together, I cut a little strip and sewed it onto the left sleeve 2″ above the hem, using the double needle to topstitch the edges and the center.

The top feels a little big on me even thought I cut my normal 16. If you’re using a soft knit with a lot of stretch, you might go down a size.

And now it’s time to board the plane for Frankfurt. Tschüß!

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About Jan

Musician and geek and Juris Doctor; lover of fine art and fine craft; mother and grandmother and significant other and friend. Passionate about sewing.

4 Responses to One More for the Road

  1. Roomy tops are perfect for long flights – have a great trip!

  2. Jan says:

    Thanks, Sarah. Our flight was three hours longer than scheduled because of a medical emergency onboard. And I was comfortable the whole way!

  3. Dixie says:

    Hi Jan! I just discovered your blog via your review of this pattern on PR. It looks like you and I have a bit in common, as I’m a big Tilton fan. Diane Ericson, too. I’ve never met Marcy, Katherine or Diane in person, but I’ve learned a lot from each of them, and I’ve used their patterns a lot. I;ll enjoy following your blog and reading about your latest creations!

  4. Jan says:

    Thanks, Dixie, and hello from Luxembourg. Glanced quickly at your blog and will enjoy getting to know you online.
    Best regards,

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Tag Archives: 550

Suzuki Fronte 550

This here rare brown bird is a Suzuki Fronte 7-S 550. That’s 550cc’s of rear-engined, rear-wheel drive kei car sweetness. It’s difficult to eyeball the scale of this car until you get a look at the fender mirrors, which protrude … Continue reading


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TIFF17 REVIEW: Princesita [2017]

“The darker the night, the brighter the stars” Miguel (Marcelo Alonso) compares God to a fire when explaining how the ones our religions’ sacred books describe aren’t quite right. Our creator is simpler than those iterations. He has the power to turn wood into ash and water into steam. He has the power to transform. […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Vinterbrødre [Winter Brothers] [2017]

“Everyone has a little darkness in them” It opens in darkness—the beams from headlamp flashlights and sparks of metal on rock our only points of illumination. This is the oppressive environment holding the over-worked and under-paid miners while their boss sits in his factory office without a care as to who the men in his […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Of Sheep and Men [2017]

“In this country, the big fish eat the small fish” It’s the cusp of Eid in Algiers, Bab el Oued circa 2016 and the rams are running wild. Well, not wild per se considering each is bought, sold, and always owned. They seem to be a huge staple in this impoverished town as a means […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: شيخ جاكسون [Sheikh Jackson] [2017]

“You can’t guarantee living till tomorrow” The thing I could never wrap my head around religious-wise is the idea of strict right and wrong. As a Catholic it’s somewhat easy as far as sin and repentance. You’re allowed to do a lot as long as you feel remorse and guilt enough to learn your lesson. […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Licht [Mademoiselle Paradis] [2017]

“If you cannot see, you are not seen” Maria Theresia von Paradis was the daughter of Empress Maria Theresa’s Court Councilor and thus a young woman of standing despite the blindness that took her eyes before the age of five. Her father Joseph Anton and mother Maria Rosalia had the means to therefore teach her […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Soldatii. Poveste din Ferentari [Soldiers. Story From Ferentari] [2017]

“Come here before I get angry” Based on lead actor Adrian Schiop‘s fictionalized biography, Ivana Mladenovic‘s Soldatii. Poveste din Ferentari [Soldiers. Story From Ferentari] shows a world of poverty and futility possessing few avenues of escape for those born within. Schiop’s character Adi arrives at the Bucharest ghetto known as Ferentari to study its people’s […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Lady Bird [2017]

“Love and attention” After a string of critical hits hinging upon her trademarked quirk as self-absorbed twenty-somethings trying to cut a path in life, Greta Gerwig has decided to transpose that template onto a tale of teenage angst with her directorial debut Lady Bird. The first step was finding a kindred spirit in Saoirse Ronan […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Disobedience [2018]

“We must then choose the tangled lives we live” It starts with a London-based rabbi speaking from his heart about the complexities of life. He stammers through—obviously ailing—until collapse. Suddenly we’re in New York City watching a photographer in-session with tattooed seniors. The phone rings and we know. She (Rachel Weisz‘s Ronit Krushka) is the […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Kodachrome [2018]

“A hole that can’t be filled” The world doesn’t need another film about an irredeemable artist who forsook his wife and child for his art only to begrudgingly (and fearfully through too many years ravaged by narcissistic cynicism) seek a second chance on his deathbed. We’d accept one if it did something different, though. Maybe […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Chappaquiddick [2018]

“Sometimes the path you’re on isn’t always the path you choose” It was always funny to think of Ted Kennedy as “the other Kennedy.” How could you not? Despite his long tenure as Massachusetts Senator, he wasn’t “anointed” like Jack or Bobby. He tried and failed to secure a presidential nomination, but even if he […]

TIFF17 REVIEW: Motorrad [2017]

“How did you get past the wall?” You won’t find a better locale for a film than Serra da Canastra in Minas Gerais, Brazil. Its rocky landscapes and serene hills are gorgeous, their quiet solemnity a perfect contrast to the loud gas-guzzling motorcycles director Vicente Amorim has roaming their dirt paths in Motorrad. The only […]


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Home ›   |   Conference & Events ›   |   Annual General Meetings ›   |   AGM FAQs

Answers to the most frequently asked questions about JASNA's Annual General Meeting (AGM) appear below.

If you have other questions about the AGM and do not see them posted, please email JASNA’s Vice President for Conferences at vpconf@jasna.org.

Why is the Annual General Meeting (AGM) always held in October? | Show Details Hide Details

On occasion, the AGM is held in late September; however, most conferences are held in October.  JASNA is able to secure a lower hotel rate for attendees since October is not peak vacation time.  In addition, the AGM is often held on the weekend of Columbus Day and Canadian Thanksgiving to make it easier for some members to attend.

When do hotel reservations and AGM registration typically open? | Show Details Hide Details

It is usually possible to begin making room reservations at the JASNA rate at the beginning of the year in which the AGM is held.  Individual hotels may have unique requirements about advance room reservations, changing the schedule.  Room blocks sometimes sell out, but additional availability often occurs in the summer, as some people change their plans and release their reservations.

Registration for the AGM begins in May or June.  Each AGM maintains a set of pages on the JASNA website, where the most current information about registration dates can be found.

What does the registration fee include? | Show Details Hide Details

Registrants receive three meals (Continental breakfast on Saturday, the banquet on Saturday night, and brunch on Sunday) and admission to all plenary sessions, their choice of breakout sessions, special interest sessions, and non-ticketed extra activities or displays (which vary from conference to conference).  Registrants have the option of purchasing additional special event tickets and tours.  Registration fees defray common costs such as plenary speakers’ fees, meeting room costs, audio-visual technology for all speakers, registration and program materials (both printed and online), and various other gifts and useful items, which vary by conference.

How is the registration fee set? | Show Details Hide Details

The registration fee reflects the costs of staging the conference.  It varies from location to location based on the cost of meals, meeting space, and essential services.  The fee is kept low by the volunteer contributions of the many breakout speakers and the volunteer work of local JASNA members.

How is the hotel room rate set? | Show Details Hide Details

JASNA and the Professional Meeting Planner with whom the society works negotiate the best rate possible.  Hotel commitments need to be made five or six years in advance of the AGM.  Hotel room rates can be highly variable.  Hotels in some cities are much more expensive and in greater demand than other cities.  Every effort is made to balance a central location, amenities, good quality, and sufficient rooms and meeting space with a fair price.

Can the AGM accommodate attendees who have various allergies and sensitivities? | Show Details Hide Details

Yes, provided that each attendee indicates allergies and sensitivities on the registration form or emails the AGM Team about them.  When given enough preparation time, the AGM Team can work with the hotel staff to try to provide for an attendee’s needs.  Waiting until arrival to notify the hotel of specific food restrictions can cause difficulty in meeting those needs.

Why do some AGMs have a higher attendance limit than others? | Show Details Hide Details

Some hotels have an attendance limit established for the banquet hall and meeting rooms, set by local fire code laws.  JASNA adheres to those limits.

I’d like to attend the Annual General Meeting (AGM), though I’m not a JASNA member. Is this possible? | Show Details Hide Details

JASNA literary conferences are designed for JASNA members.  However, you are welcome to become a member of JASNA by joining and then registering for the conference.

What is a Companion? | Show Details Hide Details

A Companion is an attendee category denoting a person who accompanies a JASNA member to the AGM and pays the AGM companion registration fee.  Only one Companion can accompany a JASNA member, and that person may be a spouse, friend, or family member.  The Companion typically attends the Saturday Continental breakfast, the Saturday evening banquet, and the Sunday brunch; however, the Companion is not entitled to attend plenary, breakout, or special interest sessions.  The Companion may attend special ticketed events, upon purchasing a ticket, depending on the event.  AGM attendees are free to share their hotel rooms (subject to hotel policies) with other friends or family members traveling with them without registering them as official Companions, but unregistered persons are not entitled to attend any meal functions or events.

Why do some AGMs have a higher Companion limit than others? | Show Details Hide Details

Some conference hotels are simply larger than others, allowing for a greater number of Companions.

What does the Companion fee include? | Show Details Hide Details

The Companion fee covers the amount paid by JASNA for the food served at the Saturday Continental breakfast, the Saturday evening banquet, and the Sunday brunch, plus a minimal amount to cover registration expenses.  No other AGM costs are added to the Companion fee.

Would JASNA consider holding a conference in my home town? | Show Details Hide Details

JASNA AGMs are held in cities where a JASNA Region has volunteered to act as Host Region.  If your JASNA Region is interested in hosting a conference, please contact the Vice President for Conferences at vpconf@jasna.org.

“How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!”


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Sunday, September 22, 2013

The Bishop

What a brilliant sculpture by Castle Miniatures. The piece really painted itself. Especially the face, what wonderful character! The toughest part was of course the mitre. I had to first carve, file and sand the original detail off. I then applied a coat of putty (carve, file and sand again) to give a smooth surface to paint on. Thankfully, I had some really good reference images to go by. The bust was a pleasure to paint and I hope I did it justice.


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Saturday, October 15, 2016

Elsie Gould (Goldie) Smothermon Dixon

Goldie had a rep. Actually she had several, but none of them were bad.  She simply had been part of the small community for so long that everyone knew her, everyone respected her, everyone had been helped by her.  Still her rep – no, her reps – were varied.  Some thought of her as a gentle kind caring woman, those were the ones who were in need.   Others saw her as a tough old bird, those were the ones who had tried to take advantage of the poor widow woman living alone on the big farm, or those who tried to tell her what to do – never a good idea, and sure to produce no desired results. Many saw her as a rock, the person who could be counted on to do what needed to be done.  Others knew her as a genuine softy, who could be moved to tears by the pain others felt, or who needed so much to be loved. Still she was her own person, and a person to be reckoned with.

This was the woman who called one day to report that she had killed seven rats.  Why? I asked. How?  Packrats were a part of life on the farm.  They were pretty things, as rats go, a soft blue-grey, with a longer fur than on the standard rats, giving them a kind of cuddly look.  They had a propensity for gathering things and hiding them in their nests.  They loved shiny things, but just about anything would do. When they build nests, the nests look like huge piles of sticks, and  include leaves, and tools, and pieces of glass and string, and metal, and cow pies and horse droppings and just about anything that wasn’t tied down, and some things that were.  Thus, they could sometimes be a problem.  Especially when they hauled off something you were looking for, or when they built nests in the chicken house or granary and consumed and contaminated the contents of those places.

But why had she killed seven of them, and why was she so proud of it? Then came the story… rats had been eating the wiring on her car and on her pickup.  The first hint was when she would crawl into the car to start it, but it didn’t start, or if it did, it ran badly.  Automatic response – to check under the hood, only to discover that the packrats had made a nest using pieces of the wiring as a base, or that they had chewed the vacuum hoses so the vehicle ran badly, missing and jerking down the road.  The first few times this happened, she simply had it repaired.  But then she got rat poison and built a rack for the block of poison so that it rested across the wires.  She began leaving the hood slightly ajar, so that the rats would feel exposed.

But the poor rats made a fatal mistake, they kept coming back, and that little old frail lady got out her rifle and went on the hunt.  At first she watched from the wide, shaded front porch where she sat in the morning and evening, enjoying her coffee and nature. She had seen the rats on their voyages to and fro, but had never bothered them, until now, and soon she had eliminated some of them. She got a couple by lurking near the nest, and that could have been that.  But then they nibbled again so she set fire to the enormous lilac bush near the house and shot them as they came out. Seven of them. Frail little old lady, my foot.

Not too long ago, an email arrived with another story.

Goldie was born in a sod house across the fence from where she still lived. It was one of those houses once so common on the Great Plains that is dug into the side of a hill, boards or sod making up the fourth wall and sod laid on the roof. Her home now is built on the site of another soddy, dug into the side of another hill.  The basement is below ground level on one side, at ground level on the other, with a garage door leading out to the driveway.  The stairs leading to the basement are quite steep, her knees are sore, so when she goes down stairs anymore, it is definitely on a mission.

The furnace had recently been acting up so she went down the stairs to check on it.  She hadn’t turned on the light because it was just starting to get dark and the clerestory windows provided enough light to see what she needed to see.  As she got to the bottom of the steps, she saw a small, coiled snake near the furnace.  First reaction, turn a bucket upside down and put it over the snake and go ahead with the furnace repair. Later she would deal with the snake.  And she did return with a piece of tin to slide under the bucket so she could take the snake outside (don’t hurt things unless they hurt you!).  Unfortunately for the snake, it tried to escape, sneaking its head out from under the edge of the bucket.  She reached over to the furnace, grabbed a pair of pliers and pinched the snake’s head hard. By this time, she knew it was a rattlesnake. It continued to wiggle.  She stood there, holding the snake, thinking - and then made her way though the garage, and out onto the driveway, where she tossed the snake onto the grass. Still the snake continued to wiggle, so she climbed on the lawn mower tractor and drove over him.  She ended the story by telling me he was snake salad now.

However, it is important that you realize that she is not normally a crazed killer.  Remember, this is a frail little old lady, maybe five foot tall, probably all of 100 pounds, in her eighties.  She is beloved by most people who know her, she has taken in so many kids that she would have to rent a hall to have them all come visit.  She spent years working as a nurse, and taking care of neighbors who needed advice, help or just general mothering.  Yet she was tough.  Goldie grew up in central Oklahoma, and moved to the panhandle in 1929.  In her words…

That year I was about 10 when we moved to Beaver County from Eddy.  We drove out there in a Model T Ford.  I don’t know how we all got there because it was probably a two seater.  And some how we got our furniture out there too.  Dolores and I had a white enameled iron bed.  I guess maybe we moved out and stayed with Aunt Lily while they moved.
Boss took a job working harvest near Waka Texas and I thought it was the flattest place I had ever seen.  You know how it looks around Ponca City, streams and trees and such.  It was a shock to adjust to the Texas plains.
Well, Boss worked there all summer, that was back in the days when it took all summer to do harvest, we didn’t have combines and most of the work was done with mules.  But the Boss did drive a big old steam tractor
I remember we lived in a house with dirt floors, there was Ma and Delores and me, and Ma and Dolores were working in a café waiting tables.  I don’t remember Gene being there, but he must have been.  He didn’t leave home until he helped Dolores run away and get married and he was about 15 then. That summer, Boss earned $300 and used it to buy the station in Knowles.
The station was west of town on the corner of Uncle Clyde’s place.  When the highway came through town we moved to the other side of the highway, but still west of town in that triangle by the intersection.  Then when I was a senior in high school we moved to where the station is now.
The station down by Uncle Clyde’s was where Grandpa Hochstetler built the croquet course.  He was really good, he hardly ever lost.  All the kids from town came out to play croquet.  I was pretty good once.  Grandpa Hochstetler was a nice man.  Grandma died when I was about twelve.
I was born in 1918, In Zelma Oklahoma to Charlie Louis Smothermon and Lena Alice Hostetler Smothermon.  I had a brother, Eugene Louis Smothermon (Gene), born in Oakland, California in 1913, and a sister, Delores Pauline Smothermon, born in Zelma in 1915.  I also had an older half brother, Robert Eli Moore, born in Missouri in 1911.
            My earliest memory was of staying at Uncle Fred’s, and his daughter Opal and I were pushing our fingers thru the burned lantern mantles.  They took our pennies because we had to pay for the mantles.  I was staying there because I was sick, I had pleurisy.  Aunt Hattie had a phonograph that had those black records.
            Then we went to stay at a people’s place where they were going to be gone.  Then we went to the McIntirf (?) place.  Daddy was shucking corn and I was putting the cobs on the stairs.  I fell down the stairs ‘cause I stepped on one of them.  That was when they bought us that white metal bed.  Delores and I slept in it. One night I dreamed I was falling thru space and I fell out of the bed.  That’s why I always thought it would be nice to parachute jump and fall thru the sky.  I’m not so sure any more.
            Uncle Fred’s kids went to school at Narden and we went to school in Eddy. I went to school there for one year.  My teacher was named Mr. Hendricks and he was wonderful.  He babied me.  We walked 2 1/2 miles to school.  It was a one-room school, first through eighth grade, so I knew the other kids’ answers too.  We lived on the Miller place south of Eddy when I finished first grade.  We lived there until I was in the second grade.
            We moved to Knowles for half a year and lived on the Waitheman place.  That was where we had chickens and pet skunks and two mules named Fanny and Nett.  There was a swimming hole there too.  We rode in wagons to programs in the evening.
            One night we were going to a program at the school in the wagon and while we were crossing the bridge a car hit one of the mules and tore her open.  I don’t remember how we got home.
             Then we went to Wichita and I was glad because my teacher at Knowles was mean. We stayed with Grandma and Grandpa Hostetler at 1150 South Sainte Claire.  It was a big old house with a front porch.  One time I had a ball bearing and I swallowed it and kept saying “Oh I’m going to die, I’m going to die” and Grandma got after me.
I remember the pan she used to mix oleo and color.  I also remember the time that Gene put a slug in a gum machine and I was afraid the police were going to get us.    I went to a Seventh Day Adventist school in Wichita and I didn’t like it there either.  The kids weren’t nice.  Third and fourth grade I went to Meridian School, in Wichita.  Gene and Delores went to Allison School.
            Grandpa always had a nice garden.  He took stove ashes and worked them into the soil.  He had fruit trees and vegetables.
            We moved back to Knowles in 1929 when I started fifth grade.
            When we left the Miller place, we went to Texas and Boss worked the harvest and made $300.  We moved back to Knowles and started the station.  I lived there until I went to nurses’ training in Wichita in 1937.
            Knowles was a busy little place.  It had three grocery stores, two lumber yards, a cream station, a gazebo, two churches, two parsonages, the school, two banks, a barber shop, a pool hall, a drug store, a hardware, a telephone office, Jack’s Garage, Cities Service bulk plant where Att Helmulth delivered gas, and Charlie’s Service Station.   Actually it was at Uncle Clyde’s at first, on the railroad tracks on the west side of town.  When the highway came thru, Uncle Clyde moved the station up to the highway west of town on the Bruner place on the north side of the highway.  When I was a senior, before school was out, we stayed in the Beard house while they were building the station where it still is.  At graduation, we slept on the floor in a kind of unslumber party and next day left on the senior trip to El Paso, Carlsbad Caverns, along the Rio Grande River and somewhere up in Colorado.
            During that time, I went with Daddy off and on, and Charles Avery,  Jack Helmuth and Himmie, even went with Orphus Parker once or twice. And with Nicky Nickerson from Turpin.  He’s dead too.
            We used to go to parties.  We would walk to Vernon Bond’s house and play skip to my lou.  We would go to the north grove or the south grove and play in the water.  Jesse and Gert were my best friends.
            The high way used to follow the road by the Huey place, around Hilkie’s corner, to town and then straight west past Fred Barby’s, down thru the pasture and met up with the highway somewhere down there.
            When I was in the second grade I went to the old school, but when I moved back they had built the one that was there til the 1980’s.  I met Buster in the fifth grade.
            Grandma died when I was 12, and Grandpa came and stayed with us a lot.  That was where I had the croquet court.  Grandpa played with everybody, and he kept that court as smooth as could be.  He didn’t eat pork, so Ma kept a special skillet for him.  He drank hot water instead of coffee.  Eileen was just a baby when Grandma died.
            Carl Poorbaugh was my teacher from the time I was in the seventh grade.  Hunke was my teacher in junior and senior year.  Dick Evans was my teacher, too.  He was married and had two little girls, but was separated.  We went out, but now that I think about it I think Daddy talked to him and told it wasn’t a good idea.
            One time Jesse Rambo and I were at a basketball tournament in Balko.  After we got beat, we were waiting for the boys to finish their game and we started drinking. We had gone to John Pemberton’s - he was a bootlegger - and got a pint.   Somehow they caught us because we were riding in Mr. Poorbaugh’s car.  We got suspended for three days.  Jesse was so mad at Miss Pratt, because she told her “shame on you girls!”  Miss Pratt was the schoolteacher, and she had dated Gene.  That was the year that Gene married Yula Waldron from Walsh Colorado.  I remember I was with Jack Helmuth that day.  Daddy and I were both on the first teams and played in every game.  Himmie is the only one of the boys that is still alive and he’s 83.
            When Delores ran off and got married, he helped her so he left too.  I was home alone then.  After Delores had Eileen, she was there quite a lot, but only in the day time.
            I was kind of a coward.  In nurse’s training, people were slipping out at night and not obeying the rules. I couldn’t think of anything worse than getting kicked out of nurse’s training and having to go home.
            I was in nurse’s training for three years and never got to come home very much.  We had peas and carrots an awful lot and I got tired of them.  I don’t eat them to this day.  It’s kind of like Daddy and scrambled eggs and cheese.
Dickie was my roommate in nurse’s training, her and Kimberly.  I haven’t heard from her for three years now.  Last time I heard from her she was taking chemo for cancer.
            Daddy started to college at Alva, and Wanda Kamas and her friend were there too.  He ran around and didn’t last long at college.  When he got out, he went to CC Camp.  When he got out of CC Camp he had some money, so he went to Chicago.
            When I got out of nurse’s training, I worked in Wichita for the summer for $2 a day and lived in the nurse’s home.  When fall came and the new students came we had to leave so I went to New Orleans to work in charity hospital, which was 20 stories high.  That was where the medical students trained. It had a white side and a colored side, and three wings – one each for LSU and Tulane and the independent wing for other students.
            I got my radio from the folks for Christmas that year, in 1940.  It still worked last time I tried.  We got our laundry done and one meal a day.  I lived in a boarding house on Tulane Avenue, then we got a bedroom/front room/bathroom apartment.  I lived with Vera Mason.  We had to eat out, but we lived above a drug store.  I went with a Dr. Crowe for a while, and then I met Dr. Jim Mullins who wrote to my mother for years after. He was an intern, and then was a doctor at New Boston, Texas.  He had a daughter and two sons who were schoolteachers (that’s how long he wrote to her!)  He took me to Dallas and the folks were there visiting Gertrude and Oliver.  She needed new teeth, so she went home with me.  She stayed with me for two or three weeks, I don’t remember how long, but he buttered her up.  Took her airplane riding and everything.
I came home on vacation the first year and Buster had been married and had Butch.  That wicked old witch Alexander brought Butch up to show me.  Then Buster and June separated and he bought Ma a book about George Burns and Gracie Allen if he would give her my address.  Gloria gave him money to go to Chicago to see June so he wouldn’t come see me.
Dickie got married and came to see me in New Orleans.  Himmie was in the army and he came to see me.
            Dickie was named Adalia Dickie and she married a publisher Edwin Wood in Eureka Kansas. She had a boy and a girl, Madeline and George.
Kimberly got married and lived in Greensburg Kansas.  She got hooked on drugs and got fired.  She stopped writing to me.  Kimberly and I just breezed thru our studies, but poor little Dickie had to study hard.  She was a good nurse but it was hard for her to learn.

            One time JD and Janeece Riggins came over, and JD was drinking.  Janeece had some sleeping pills in her purse and we put one in his beer.  He went to sleep and we couldn’t wake him up.  We thought we had killed him.
Lena Alice Hochstetler Moore Smothermon

Ma was born in 1894 in Zincite, Missouri..  Her father Elias Hochstetler was born in 1857 in Clay City Indiana. Her mother was Paulina Jane (Aunt Pine) Gould Franklin Hochstetler,  and she was born in New Version, Pennsylvania in 1857.
Ma was one of 5 children, two of whom survived to adulthood: her brother Bert (Albert Varley Hochstetler) was born in 1901 in Zincite.
Piney had previously been married to Hewett Baker Franklin, who was a doctor in Pennsylvania. They had 5 children of whom 2 survived, John Mortimer Franklin and Celia Willimina Franklin. Uncle John ran an antique shop in Miami, Oklahoma, until his death in 1965.  I don’t remember Celia.
Piney and Elias moved to the newly formed state of Oklahoma in 1911 and settled in Zelma (Oklahoma) where Piney ran the post office out of her home.

The first Ma story I ever heard was that after the death of her father, she dropped out of school in the second grade.  However the woman never stopped learning.  She eventually began taking college courses in her 70s and was an excellent student.
In 1910, at the age of 13, she married Lloyd Moore and had a child, Robert Eli Moore, in 1911. I don’t know what happened to Lloyd Moore, but she remarried in 1913 to The Boss, Charles Lewis Smothermon.

I don’t know how she did it, but the woman was a magician.  I always knew I was her favorite grandchild, everything she did told me so.  I felt sorry for the other kids, but I relished my position as the baby of my generation, and as Ma’s favorite.  Yet years later, I discovered that all the other kids felt as if THEY were the favorites! How could this be?!? The woman was a magician.

Growing up, I was the bookish kid.  I was sort of an only child, my half brother arrived and departed at the whim of his mother who wanted him around only at her convenience. We lived first in a converted boxcar across the road from the gas station where my grandparents lived and worked, then moved to the family farm nine miles out of town. Once we moved to the farm, I was often alone, as both my parents worked in town (Liberal Kansas) 55 miles away, and arrived home two or three hours after I got home following an hour-long school bus ride.  I read.  I played with my toys, I read. I did my chores.  I read.

Ma was a reader as well.  She always wanted to know what I was reading.  She had suggestions.  She saved special books for me from the little library in the main room of the station where people donated books they had finished and took ones they wanted to read.

And when I spent the night with her, we did forbidden things.  We crept into the darkened sales room, took ice cold Cokes from the icy water of the cooler, and returned to her bedroom clutching bags of potato chips.  We would crawl into bed, rip open the chip bags and EAT POTATO CHIPS IN BED! Then we would pretend to read, but instead we talked and giggled until we began to get sleepy. Only then would we begin to read until we each fell asleep.

When I was a teenager, we left Knowles and moved to a town near Wichita Kansas.  One of my treats then was to return home for the weekend and have a chips and read session.  There was never any chance that I would stay with my other grandmother and my parents.  I had to stay with Ma.  And she insisted that I do so.  Because I was her favorite.

That was when she began to encourage me to write.  I don’t know that she envisioned me becoming a recorder of my life, perhaps she had a more Agatha Christie vision of my writing, but when I was in college and writing articles for the school paper, she collected the articles in a scrapbook.  Because I was her favorite.

My cousin Marian was musically and artistically talented.  She had a beautiful voice.  She and Ma spent hours playing the piano in Ma’s bedroom.  They talked about painting, and Ma showed her special techniques she had used in her County fair award winning paintings of ships and landscapes. They had a very special bond.  She thought SHE was her favorite.

Victor, as the only boy grandchild, held a kind of special position.  He loved sports and Ma loved the Kansas City Athletics. We all listened to the games as she watched the business at the station, but sometimes she would take Victor to Wichita to watch the minor league team that played there.  She encouraged him to follow his dream of being a sports announcer and followed him as he progressed through college and announced games on the local station.  Of course she couldn’t listen to him because that was 200 miles away. But he thought that HE was her favorite.

The other five cousins each had their own special niche in her life.  Eileen was also a musician and the first to produce great grand children.  Connie was an ice skater of some renown.  Loretta was a beauty queen.  Peggy was the rebel that you could count on to make any meeting interesting.  I haven’t had that discussion with them

The last time we three met, Victor, Marian and I, five years ago, 44 years after Ma died, we discovered the terrible truth.  We weren’t her only favorites, but we were her favorites. Everyone one of us.  I don’t know how she did it, but the woman was a magician.


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Comments on "Dvorak and Array Chinese Input Method":
[ 1 : Permalink ]

Interesting page. I've used the Dvorak keyboard for about 15 years now, and I have the same trouble using phonetic input methods for Chinese.

The problem is that I'm a foreigner, so phonetic inputs are much easier than character-based input methods (I was a bad student. :)

I still hope to find a phonetic keyboard with a dvorak layout some day.

By the way, for those typing traditional characters, the 注音符号 input method is unrelated to Romanized phonetics.

Posted by jman at November 27, 2008 04:48 PM
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Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Home made sour cream

There are so many things you can make at home not just to save money but also to know what is in it. Sour cream is one of those things and it is so easy to do. You only need 2 ingredients!

Cultured Buttermilk and heaving cream

You can buy them both from any supermarket. You can also make buttermilk too. Which you can look in recipes for that. It has to be cultured buttermilk.

So you ready for this super easy recipe?!

First you find a glass jar. I used one of those salsa jars with the wide mouth. You fill the jar about 3/4 full (or however much you want to make) with heavy cream then you add some buttermilk. my Jar was pretty short so I put about 2 – 3 T in it. If your jar is bigger add more.

Now here comes the tricky part *smile* take a paper towel or some other cover that can breath and set it on top of the jar and place a rubber band to hold it on. Phew……. Okay now that hard part is over place it on you counter and let it sit for 12-24 hours. This just depends on how warm your kitchen is. I did mine at about 4pm last time and when I got up in the morning it was done!

Look at that!!! SOUR CREAM!!

P.S. It is super yummy!!!

   God Bless,

1 comment:

  1. Isn't making your own stuff empowering! I really love that I can buy more basic ingredients and use them to make several of the specific combinations that I need at home. It makes shopping so much easier AND cheaper and I know it's much better for our health! Thanks for the variation on the methods I gave you for making sour cream and yogurt! I was expecting something different when I opened these posts,I was delightfully surpised! Your methods sound so much easier to do with less equipment like a crockpot or cheese thermometer. I'm all about simplifying! I can't wait to try your methods, although I might still slightly warm the cream before adding the buttermilk, but since my cow calved yesterday, my cream will probably be warm when it comes out of the seperator so I probably won't need to warm it. I've also heard of people who have cows just adding the yogurt culture directly to their warm filtered milk after milking and letting it sit for several hours until it thickens to make their yogurt. Might have to try that too!

Have a Blessed day.