Popcorn: Kettle Corn Family Nights as a Kid

I’ve no earliest memory of our family popcorn nights, other than they were typically weekend nights. I just remember Dad, with his exact measurements, explaining that we’d put the pot on the med-high burner with two tablespoons of olive oil in it. We’d sprinkle a pinch of salt atop these two tablespoons of oil & add in two kernels of corn. We’d then tilt the pot’s lid on top of the pot as a top hat would be on a gentleman’s head. This pot was a specially designated pot in our pots & pans under-the-oven-drawer that we reserved specifically for when we'd make popcorn; it even had the name Popcorn Pot.

Once we heard those two kernels pop we knew our pot was ready [read: warm enough] for the third cup of kernels awaiting in the measuring cup nearby. We’d dump those in & wait until the popping was spaced out by many seconds, rather than just a few; that’s when we knew we’d most likely dump the pot overflowing with popped kernels, into our largest mixing bowls, & have hardly any unpopped kernels remaining, if any at all.

We learned there was a fine line with this technique, as if we’d wait just a moment or two too long, we’d likely have a few burnt kernels. Too many of those & the air in our kitchen would remind us, for longer than we’d like to, that we’d goofed. I remember that I’d especially like it when several kernels were browned or blackened, just shy of being burnt, as they’d have a crispness I enjoyed. I also took preference to the partially popped kernels as they had an even better crunch. Though once I hit my braces-on-teeth era, both Mom & Dad highly frowned upon my crunching on any partially or wholly unpopped kernels. They were paying for the shiny metal glued to my teeth after all.

We’d use our set of Pyrex mixing bowls to pour the fresh popped kernels into. Even though the smallest bowl would have a substantial portion, no child would desire it, & Dad would typically take it. Mom would typically be given the largest bowl, which was also a refill bowl of a sort, as in if one of us kids would finish our kernels & wished for more, we’d visit Mom & get another handful or so depending on what was left & if anyone else spoke up; refills were slightly regulated. The bowl Mom ate from was also the final bowl filled from the pot, so she ate around the partially popped kernels & unpopped kernels.

Popcorn became a family staple on weekend Blockbuster rental nights as well as during TGIF primetime TV. We’d make the popcorn & settle in for a few hours of entertainment – straight from our living room. Dad, thrilled for some time with his family, sleeping in the next day, & not heading off to work as the sun rose, & us kids thrilled knowing that we could put our homework & test studying aside for a little bit knowing there were 48 more hours till it would be due.

Cheez Whiz & Childhood

Early on in elementary school Mom would especially save the Cheez Whiz coupons. Pretzels & pretzel coupons, of every sort, were always in the coupon keeper. Whenever Mom would see Cheez Whiz on sale, she’d talk about making sure to pick it up because it’s rather expensive. I’d see the jar size & mentally agree; the customer wasn’t getting much for their purchasing efforts.

Evening TV often brought snacks of some sort into our family’s living room. Sometimes it was as basic as a bag of potato chips (whichever had been on sale in our local grocer's weekly circular & that there'd been a coupon for in the magazine of manufacturer's coupons) sprinkled into tiny bowls for each of us to enjoy a small portion during the half hour or hour of TV entertainment, sometimes it was pretzels, etc.

When the cupboard held a container of Cheez Whiz, Mom would bring it out, along with a bag of pretzels. If I remember correctly, pretzel sticks were most preferred alongside Cheez Whiz, likely for their ease in dipping, or scooping just the right amount for each mouthful.

Initially I enjoyed this treat along too, yet as the years worn on I stuck to enjoying the other household snacks. Mom gently asked me about this once, basically saying, “You used to like Cheez Whiz, & then you stopped, didn’t you?”

I explained that, when I ate it, it was an okay snack. Knowing that it cost quite a bit, & that everyone else enjoyed it, I left it alone for them. That’s my practicality. My snacking habits have changed quite drastically since those days. As described in this recent post, I tend to gravitate away from these processed options.

Grandma Got Me My Personalized Mug

As a young girl I had a phase. Really the phase hasn't exactly ended; it's transitioned. As a grade school student it was important to me that no one but me drink from the same glass, or mug, as me. Maybe it does sound [read] ridiculous, yet it meant everything to me back then. And it, sort of, still does.

When Grandma visited I happened to tell her how I felt about this & how I'd dreamed up a mug with my name on it, that only I'd use. Grandma didn't have much money, & these were the days before personalized name items (key rings, candles, pens, & pencils, etc.) were specifically sold in stores. Grandma took it upon herself to contact a retailer which sells personalized gifts, including mugs. She ordered me a mug, which says, "My Mug" on one side & my first name on the other side. She watched me beam when I opened the gift. It truly was a surprise. I wasn't "present dropping" ideas when I chatted with her; I was too young to think of that.

I began using it instantly, & once, when Mom got sick at the kitchen sink, my personalized mug, the one with my name on it, happened to be the one hanging to drain right next to her - so she grabbed it & gulped down a few ounces of water from my mug. I couldn't bring myself to drink from it. Mom had drunk from it. Ugh. It was awful.

Then it sat there. It could go into the cabinet, yet since I used it so frequently (each time I hydrated myself), it never really actually got further than the dish drainer & then back onto the table at mealtime. So it continued to sit. Maybe it wasn't for all that long. Maybe just a day or so. It sat for long enough that I realized I'd have to clean it enough for my personal satisfaction & move on. After all, it being my mug no one else in the house would use it, so it had no other way of ending up back in the dishpan other than my using it, or simply cleaning it more.

Yes, dishpans & dish drainers. Definitely during those years our house was a dishwasher-less house. And I resumed drinking from my mug once I washed it a bit more. I've never been a germ-a-phobe, yet I've always considered my drinking containers as well as my silverware & plasticware. Nowadays, as it's been for about ten years, I've been drinking from these. Not quite as personalized, yet before my personalized mug reached overuse (well, its personalization had already peeled off quite a bit), as it & its beautiful drinking memories are irreplaceable, as a keepsake I retired it to keep space with other mementos from long ago.

Recycling a Recycling Bin

A friend was helping me out with a task recently & found herself admiring a plastic bin in which I’ve stowed my bedsheets. It’s true; the bin’s hosting my bedsheets is complete happenchance. Though it serves it very well with its flexible frame & general wobbliness, where it’s easy to tuck just-one-more-pillowcase against its side, the purpose of the bin’s original purchase was for recycling…That is, in-house recycling.

The house’s recycling bin was the standard municipal supplied bin. It’d endured plenty of weather, was generally dilapidated, had the municipal markings on it, & was stocky. It wasn’t something meant to be inside. Well, maybe other than a garage, basement, or mudroom, none of which existed next to an outside door where this bin resided.

Enter this plastic bin. Having this bin meant that the same recycling that was meant for the municipal recycling bin, could first be placed into this bin, which could go right inside the outside doors, & therefore when this bin filled up far enough, it could be dumped into the official bin waiting outside. This also meant that the outside door wouldn’t be opened up nearly so frequently, especially during inclement weather when it often seemed that comfort & warmth from the inside escaped with each opening of the door – when it was simply to place recyclables in their proper bin while preparing a meal.

The bin for the link which I've included here is just a bit taller than the one I have, which I've written about. Also, the one I have is blue (imagine that 😁). The general shape, as well as the handles, are just as the one I have are, & it's the same plastic: polypropylene.

When it was time to move on from that house, the bin was wiped down & cleaned up, therefore becoming ready to host a new purpose. Enter bedsheets.

Switching the Light

One of my many chores as a child was our family’s laundry. It was my duty to empty the hamper at the end of the upstairs hallway to the basement laundry area as well as get the clean laundry, all folded up awaiting in the baskets in the laundry area downstairs, back up to the second floor & put away.

To expedite the chore, in so that I’d wrap up the task & be on with my other interests, I’d often place a basket atop another basket, one which had an inch or two’s room to spare, then make my way quickly up both flights of stairs; I’d get it all done in one trip sometimes!

Making this possible was a particular light switch. I’d be in my bedroom & then need to complete the chore. Once finished with the chore, I’d want to remain on the second floor & be able to head straight back to my bedroom. This meant that I’d need to turn off the basement light as I passed by the switch – without dumping the baskets. I mean, I could put the baskets down on the ground, tap the switch, then pick the baskets back up…but I was a kid… ‘Nuff said? [wink, wink]

Having this light switch for the basement lights made all the difference. I was able to tap it easily when I leaned over, with just my nose. Mom had even exclaimed, corny as it was, “I knew I gave you that nose for a reason!” Other switches, generic & basic as they are, aren’t ones which can be tapped easily; rather they’re definite “flickers”, to be “flicked” on & off.

As for the rest of the sections of the house which I’d pass through enroute from the basement to the second floor? These areas were all light up [enough] by automatic lights in neighboring rooms, or lights that happened to be on because someone else was utilizing those rooms while I completed my chore.

The Ever-Changing Colander

A colander has many uses & there are many varieties of colanders. I had two for the longest time. One was white, which had tiny holes in it. That one was great for cooking projects where I’d be making angel hair or quinoa. The other one’s blue, which I’ve kept around for two reasons. One, I’m passionate about all things which are blue, & two, if I’d be cleaning strawberries, or doing anything else which would impact the potential color of the dish from which I’d be working, I’d rather not have red/pinkish stains on the white colander, so I’ve kept the blue one to forbid the potential of red stains on the white colander.

Then I made my way into the collapsible colander. This one was the one which was meant to cure all my storage space ails. Getting it to pop open proved to be an effort, just as much as collapsing it did.

Then I saw the strainer my parent’s use. Simple, small, & lots less clean up. In my humble opinion. Cleaning fruit is a bit different, yet it’s still possible to run the water over the fruit while in the bowl, then strain the water out & not have the fruit fall out because the strainer’s in place alongside the bowl’s edge.

Colanders still come in handy. A particular one I currently use sits atop a mug rug doubling as a dish drainer base. It’s great because I can toss the mug rug right into the laundry when it gets to be that soiled. The colander is an adequate size & shape for my dish draining needs; personal efficiency at its best.

Superfruits, Antioxidants, Omega-3s & More

Always looking for new ways to incorporate snacks into my daily routine, especially ones which aren’t necessarily in need of reheating or refrigeration, I’ve lately clung to a fruit, nut, & cheese combination.

I typically chow down on nuts quite often, what I’ve been eating along with them has updated ever-so-slightly. I mainly find myself plowing through bags of walnuts, occasionally I also grub on almonds as well.

So, along with walnuts, which I typically toss into the bowl first, I’d also toss in berries, whichever I’ve on hand. I usually try to make it a gentle blend of strawberries & red, as well as black, raspberries. This doesn’t always happen. I toss a bit of cocoa & then the “glue”, which has become cottage cheese, sometimes with a bit of ricotta cheese too.

If I’m feeling fancy, then I’ll sprinkle some fresh orange zest atop these layers just as one would top their dish of ice cream with sprinkles. Also, adding coconut flakes & sunflower seeds happens occasionally as well.

An alternative is quite similar, yet a bit different with a diced-up apple, or 2/3 an apple, atop the layer of walnuts. And with the apple option, it’s only seemed appropriate to swap out the cocoa with cinnamon making for an apple cinnamon delight.

Superfruits & antioxidants, omega 3s & more…All in one scrumptiously filling nutritiously colorful bowl. [All ingredient amounts are “to taste”.]

All About Me, Sixth Grade Style

Yesterday I wrote about learning Roman numerals. This memory reminded of a sixth grade project where each student was to collect certain things about themselves & tell their story on a poster board. Not long beforehand my family was all together at the local library selecting another round of books to check out. I'd remembered, just weeks prior, seeing in my brother's book stack, one that intrigued me. He & I didn't tend to select the same types of books, even at that age, so this was rather odd.

As I'd remembered that he'd returned the library book, I began canvasing for it. Problem was, I didn't remember all of its title & only sort of recalled the book's cover. Being a brother & at "that age", when I asked him for the book's details, he wasn't exactly helpful. I'd requested the librarian's assistance too; they were running queries to no avail. Eventually Mom was pulled into the mix as we'd be leaving the library soon for the day & I'd been getting nowhere on said search.

Mom directly asked him & that's when my brother had to be a bit more mature & share what he remembered about the book. He gave the librarian the book's title & suddenly the book was able to get pulled from the rack for my checkout stack.

Yes, the book became more memorable than all of this. While in the sixth grade, when this poster board project was assigned to me, it only made sense to give due credit to that book, which I found to be a really good book. Good enough to list it as my "favorite book".

Most students' poster boards were only showcased for one week. Due to a glitch in our teacher's schedule, mine remained on display a bit longer, which also covered our class open house. I also recall feeling a little extra special that, out of all the students in our classroom, my assignment was the one which got to be exhibited for more than just my classmates.

And since that time in the sixth grade I've come to read numerous books I'd list as my "favorite book" on a list "All About Me".

When I Taught Myself Roman Numerals Before I Understood Fractions

It was in about the same time that I ran across the articles on Anne Frank in the Reader's Digest in that I also happened upon a few used textbooks my parents must have picked up at a flea market. One of these textbooks was math related & had a chapter on Roman numerals. Such is what it was, I suddenly found myself having learned Roman numerals. Yep, I taught myself Roman numerals before I understood fractions. In fact, I know I did.

Jumping ahead, at one point in high school, while we were all sitting around the dinner table as a family, it suddenly dawned on me that I understood fractions. Either Mom or Dad, or both noticed my revelation, or my "aha" moment & asked what exactly had happened. I proceeded to explain that I had just figured out fractions. Dad, the engineer, & Mom, the certified elementary school teacher, gave me a pop quiz. It didn't feel like one, but basically they both said a few things & confirmed that, yes, I understood that 4/3 was 1 & 1/3, etc. I also failed to comprehend how there could be a remainder of inches when one measured feet, thus creating math problems of feet & inches...This was a second grade concept that I also figured out many years afterward.  

...But there I was back in the fifth grade, around that time when I should have been learning fractions, & I was picking up Reader's Digest articles including Anne Frank's writings & flea market used textbooks explaining Roman numerals. I think I felt kind of cool. After all I didn't need to understand Roman numerals. No one was asking me about them & they weren't in my school textbooks. I struggled to learn a lot of things I was expected to learn & here I was understanding something no one had even mentioned to me & I knew it wasn't something bad either. Not like having read Catcher in the Rye, for example.

Women's History Month: Anne Frank

At some point in grade school, I think around the time I'd have been in the fifth grade, I began picking up Reader's Digest for a quick story or two. It was in one of those issues where a piece on Anne Frank & her diary appeared. The piece contained a snippet of her diary. It was before we learned about her & her family, & the Holocaust as a whole, in school. I remember thinking that naming her diary, "Kitty", seemed odd, though I didn't focus on it & kept on reading the content.

Of course, since that time, many more books have been written on Anne Frank as well as compilations of her writings, published as well  DVDs & Amazon Instant Videos made.

I enjoyed writing back then too & I remember being encouraged. Here a young girl, just like myself (though she was a few years older than I was when I came upon her writing amid the other articles in Reader's Digest), had written something worthy of publishing & it was published. 

Women's History Month: Wilma Rudolph

You know how in high school there's numerous oral & written reports a student is assigned throughout the years? And how, oftentimes, themes within these reports connect & overlap? Wilma Rudolph (Amazon Instant Video link) is a woman who became the subject of such numerous reports for me throughout my high school years. Mom even noted rhetorically sometime during my senior year, "How many times have you recycled that report?" I wrote about her in Creative Writing as well as in English class. I prepared oral presentations on her in American Cultures (social studies) class & when the assignment was on a hero(ine). These assignments had to add up to nearly a dozen over the four years.

The convenient part was I had already researched her history, I knew who she was, where she came from, what she'd accomplished. This was much of the reason I found inspiration in her; her ambition & drive as well as her ability to focus & know who she was & of what she was capable of accomplishing.

A long-distance runner myself (cross-country, the 1-mile, & 2-mile in track), she didn't seem to be a 100% accurate athletic match-up for me to idolize, & I remember feeling a bit down when a classmate asked me about my research who was a sprinter just as Wilma (link to DVD) had been. I remember feeling that I'd taken her choice, though this classmate had been mature about it. There were less than thirty of us in the class. None of us could select the same subject as a fellow classmate did for our report. I'd not learned of any long-distance running equivalent, or near equivalents, to the achievements of Wilma Rudolph, at least not in high school. A time long before Wikipedia & the like became available for easy, quick, comparable research.

Women's History Month: Louisa May Alcott

Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women. I've no idea for how long I've known this fact.  I think I'd read a portion of the book, as a story while in elementary school. An assignment I received early on in high school had our class reading a book which we picked out of a collection provided. When I skimmed through the collection of options, Little Women happened to be there; it was meant to be.

The biggest thing I remember from my impromptu presentation to my peers was explaining what the beginning, & then the end of the book, meant to me. I specifically recall a particular classmate somewhat snidely asking, "What's in the middle of the book?"

As shy & timid as I was back then, I also recall that, most likely because it was such a small group in that class, & because I'd known that peer for many years & not just since high school began, as well as the class teacher being sweet & gracious, that I sort of smirked, glanced at the teacher, & maybe even my classmate too, & proceeded to answer just that. Maybe it was also that I was confident about the story & my admiration for Louisa May Alcott in addition to being well prepared.

One of the most intriguing things I've always found to be about Louisa May Alcott is that she died (March 6, 1888) just two days after her father passed away (March 4, 1888). From what I remember, they were not nearby one another & in those days news, even family news, immediate family news, wouldn't have traveled that fast. Louisa May Alcott wouldn't have known of her father's passing before she, herself, passed away.

Besides Little Women (paperback link), Louisa May Alcott is also well known for two other novels, Little Men & Jo's Boys (both are paperback links). Little Women (free Kindle link) is Louisa May Alcott's semi-autobiographical novel which she published in 1868, closely followed by Little Men (free Kindle link) in 1871. Jo's Boys (free Kindle link) came later on in 1886.

Dressing in Green for St. Patrick's Day

During a particular phase of my life, though I'm not Irish, wearing green on St. Patrick's Day was a must for me. I like that sort of thing, wearing the same as the rest of the group, that is.

I'm not necessarily excited about wearing a uniform all the time, such as when I worked in retail & I had to wear a white shirt with khakis, navy, or a black solid. Or when I must be wearing a collared white top & if I am chilly or cold what I choose to wear with my colored white top must also be white.

These are certain limiting parameters which are more frustrating than anything. It can make it easier to get dressed when it's time to go to work, yet sometimes I find myself looking at some of the other items I've to pick from & think how nice they look -- sometimes I think they'd look even nicer. Especially when jeans count as a navy & I see a respectable skirt I've with a print on it, which doesn't match the requirements, & therefore I'm not to wear it. So there I am putting on my white with a neutral solid.

On the flip side, when I attend an event where the organizers are planning to have everyone wear black on the bottom (pants or skirts), or khakis & the event shirt for their top, I'm all over it & super bummed when I forget & attend in ordinary clothes.

I favor blue, yet green is a secondary preference color for me. Which means I've plenty of aqua & turquoise shaded options in my wardrobe as well as green. At least I'm well prepared to coordinate with society on such a day...though, without even thinking, today I chose a coordinating black & blue printed top & skirt. I often wear a black long-sleeve underneath this short sleeve top & today's no different. Besides, I'll likely be wearing a jacket all day as well. The weather won't be turning, at least not far enough, for a few more weeks. Layering is still necessary...& today's a day when I do not need to be coordinating in a white collared top & solid skirt. So enjoy today's freedoms, I will.

Women's History Month: Helen Keller & Anne Sullivan

I happened upon Helen Keller & Anne Sullivan's story before I learned about them in school. And it was by reading a book that I learned their story. I remember trying incessantly to comprehend the logic they used behind taking Helen for a long drive to a neighboring house so that she wouldn't consider to run away as Anne Sullivan worked with her. I also remember being confused by her father & his role in her life as well as his role within his family unit; he seemed quite separated & distant & I was too young to grasp that part of the storyline.

My first memories of learning of Helen in school were in the fourth grade. I can actually recall a visual of my fourth grade teacher explaining how Anne Sullivan would write on Helen's hand. My teacher never spoke of it, never explained their communication as sign language, yet I believe that in some ways it's sort of a language of signs all its own.

It greatly impressed my young mind that this little girl, who couldn't see or hear, had to manage through life & figure out how to communicate & then how to understand Anne Sullivan, trust her & then learn how to relate to the world via her.

A thing I learned about Helen Keller later on, around the time I'd have been in high school, was how she learned to interact with others as an adult. That when she'd be introduced to someone, she'd hold out her hand to shake theirs, yet as she didn't know of their height, Helen would hold her hand out kind of in a general area & the other person would bring their clasped hands into the correct location as they shook hands. Whomever I learned this from mentioned that Helen never forgot in the next times meeting that same person at exactly what level, or height, her hand should be in order to correctly shake their hand. What a transformation! What a gift!

Patty Duke & Anne Bancroft star in the original "Miracle Worker" available on Amazon Instant Video & DVD. There's now a more recent version (2000) on Amazon Instant Video starring Hallie Kate Eisenberg as Helen Keller & Alison Elliot as Anne Sullivan. This is the version I watched a few times in grade school. As I was already very familiar with the story, I would have watched this movie as one watches an episode of a television show that they've already seen. And Kindle offers a few reading options for free. Of course, there's plenty of paperback & hardback books on Helen Keller's story too.

Appreciating Windshield Wipers

It's weather days like today when I believe that windshield wipers can lack the appreciation which they deserve. Gushing winds, plenty of precipitation, driving on highways where driving behind merely one vehicle ensures a constantly covered windshield from kickback & the constant need to tap the knob for windshield washer fluid... The task of the windshield wipers becomes rather impressive & important.

Then there are those days when there's a little something clinging to the top of the wipers...Tap the knob for more fluid because the windshield's a bit cloudy...Oooohhhhh, it just got a lot worse! Whatever was atop those wipers just got smeared all over the glass. And you're your driving, about 35 to 40 mph in somewhat thick traffic too, right? That's why you thought to tap that wiper knob to clear out that haze. Now you're looking quickly, darting your head a little this way & a little that way. Intensely working to catch every important sight through the minor clarity remaining on the windshield. It's quite possible that Rain-X wipers & wiper fluid would help well here too.

Late Spring & Summer days where a super bright sun is one's only effect never looked so good. Or, the ability to transplant oneself to driving on the streets of those cities much nearer the equator. Remember, Daylight Savings Time began just days ago. Around the equinox we gain daylight at its most rapid pace. This time of year we typically pick up close to 3 minutes of sunlight per day. Over the course of the month of March we will gain 86 minutes of daylight.

Crafty Rewards

A particular memory I have, I believe it's from when I was in junior high school, is an evening when Mom ran a number of errands while Dad remained at the house. I may have been the only other one there at the time.

I specifically remember that I didn't have anything in particular I needed to do & I found myself basically "spotting" Dad as he roamed about taking care of the little things he planned to accomplish in the hours while Mom drove about accomplishing her own to-do list.

Wandering about & working alongside Dad was unique unto itself. He's always had a way of teaching & showing without really doing so, a special, gentle quality where it became just as easy to end up taking care of something, & being of assistance, without necessarily doing this at all. And it wasn't a fake out; it wasn't intentional. Rather, it was completely natural, like a soft, warm hug without any physical embrace.

I dilly-dallied about. Truly, I haven't a clue what all those little moments were about, yet I know I did quite a bit; I was of great help. I know this because when Mom returned hours later Dad explained that I'd been with him, working on his things, & that we'd accomplished a lot; I'd been of great help.

The first thing Mom said in reply was, "Good. I'm glad then that I brought this back with me." She'd been to a craft store & happened to pick up one of these barrettes. I remember being extremely grateful. These trinkets & similar supplies didn't come by all that often; I'd basically been surprised. Also in that moment I realized I knew I'd just spent plenty of time meandering about with Dad, yet I'd just learned of this great help I'd been & I'd absolutely no idea what it was that I did exactly to provide said assistance.

It's possible that in just being me I'd done quite plenty; it's possible that I did do quite a bit without realizing it because of what it was I was doing (& because I was with Dad). Nevertheless I now had a hair clip to fashion & design for wearing.

Alternative Hairspray Use: Fabric Ink Removal

Hairspray has been in my life for decades. Like many a public school girl, at one time I used hairspray to ensure no locks would move atop my mane from when I left the house in the early morning till when the bus brought me back mid-afternoon. Later in life hairspray became something I kept around more often in trial size, as a "just in case".

Nowadays hairspray shares similarities with white vinegar and the occasional "blue Dawn". I've learned how to use it for rush repair jobs. Specifically ink stains. A while back I had a pen break, or burst, on me; I happened to be wearing a navy blue skirt, therefore I was able to remain wearing the skirt for the remainder of the day. With it being navy blue, even after washing it, it was difficult to closely inspect the fabric's fibers for traces of any remaining ink.

Again, just days ago, I learned that a pen stashed in a front pocket of mine had basically been writing on me the entire time I worked on a project, keeping the pen nearby. The pocket had a hole underneath where the pen stuck out & as I would keep standing, squatting, kneeling, etc., the pen would shift as such. This wasn't a navy blue skirt. This was a khaki skirt. This was also the very beginning of a long day. Oops.

My first thoughts were to retreat back to my wardrobe; I quickly thought differently of this knowing that it would waste too many minutes & wouldn't necessarily establish a solution. A nearby Goodwill Store would be a closer option. At Goodwill I would, hopefully in short time, locate another coordinating skirt. After all, how difficult could it be to pick out another khaki skirt?

In short time I located a few options. The best one, not being khaki, rather a solid army green. It looked great with my top & my tights, as well as my dark brown flats. Easy peasy. ...Not so fast. The checkout was in the way between my "skirt to the rescue" & the rest of my lengthy day.

I passed an associate on the way to the checkout line. Familiar with retail, I knew there was as good a chance as any that this associate's duties might have them anywhere but at the registers. I got in line. I was third - behind the customer being waited on, who had at least a dozen items to be scanned, some of which appeared, from my distance to potentially be a bit fragile & needing extra wrapping, & a customer directly in front of me, who, like myself, didn't even have a cart or basket as she planned to purchase just a few small items.

I spent a half hour in Goodwill. Ten or more minutes happened to be in the checkout line. After the cashier, who worked at a pace that said her only customer was the one she was waiting on, finished with the original customer, she began waiting on the customer in front of me. Two pieces of bagged jewelry. That's all the lady had. One scanned properly, the other did not. The customer volunteered to quickly get another bag. That bag didn't ring up either. The cashier found a suitable bar code behind the counter. No associate backup had been called at this point. A few customers suddenly arrived in line behind me. And that associate I had passed on my way to the checkout line walked behind the counter offering for the next-in-line to step to the next register. The associate directed the customer behind me. As I turned, that customer offered to me that I go, so I did, thanking that customer as I did. Moments later it would be her turn with the original cashier.

I was all ready to go. I had my cash out, my hanger removed from my skirt, & I was ready to say I didn't have any discounts & I didn't wish to donate that day either, nor did I need a bag. My purchase was simply a "scan & go". I had been so tempted to wear that skirt out of the dressing room & hand the tag to the cashier for purchasing. I'm glad I didn't try that; I'm sure it would have caused some confusion. Instead, I managed to wiggle out of the penned skirt while in the store's parking lot & simply stand up just outside my driver's door to finish zipping & clipping my new skirt in place.

Once my long day ended I quickly found my hairspray bottle & began to drench the khaki fabric in hairspray. Along with a little lukewarm (not hot) water, the black ink, even in this thick khaki fabric, diminished. An ordinary run through the wash along with the rest of my light & white clothes freshened up this long, thick fabric skirt back to square one, ready to keep me warm on another cold day.

The Convenience of the Can Opener

I'm pretty sure the first time I used a manual can opener I had a college degree & was a homeowner. Furthermore, I think it was "by chance" that I had it - as in, it was part of a collection of things that many who knew I had gotten myself a house said, "Here's a box of items you might be able to use. If not, pass them along to someone you know who can." I've a lot of items I've accrued like this.

My parents had purchased a electric can opener, thus passing along their passé one onto me. Attending an event, I received a request, if I might have a can opener (it was assumed that I did, after all, I was a homeowner) that I'd bring it along. Someone at the event would likely need it (the event would include a potluck of sorts).

Not knowing how accessible electricity would be, let along counter space, & not wanting to drag along something the size & awkwardness of an electric can opener, I reached for the box which had been passed along to me. There lay a manual can opener. It immediately became the practical solution.

I believe that day it served its purpose & that is when I also came to appreciate the simplicity of a manual can opener. It's small, cleans simply, doesn't need a battery or electricity to operate, can fit conveniently just about anywhere, & doesn't easily damage. Soon afterward I found myself preferring this quaint can opener to the modern larger, electric, clumsy can opener.

In present day I've not had an electric can opener since "back then", & passed along the one my parents had passed to me to someone missing their own electric one. Nowadays I stick to reaching for my box of random items, never knowing when another clever & convenient tool will be needed.

While a stainless steel bamboo, or wooden handled can opener (with bottle opener tool) has its perks,


so does this basic black handled one with Good Grips Smooth Edge & Ergonomic Anti Slip.


Then again, if locating kitchen utensils in a large drawer or countertop container can be complicated, an all red can opener with rubberized knob may make all the difference.

On Drinking Hot Tea & Coffee

There was a time when I drank hot tea...with a lot of sugar added to it. These are the same days when I drank black tea...& only black tea...for I didn't know of any other tea to try. I did know that I didn't care for coffee. I'd had a sip; yep, just one sip of coffee. I didn't think much of the beverage, so I never had anymore sips.

During my tweens, as they call that age nowadays, there was a time when I'd get up each morning before school, before Dad would leave for work, & I'd prepare his breakfast. This included prepping his mug of coffee. As the only coffee drinker in the house he drank a mug of instant coffee with his breakfast each morning. That's one heaping spoonful slightly rounded off. Then into the microwave it'd go for a minute thirty seconds.

It was during one of these mornings, likely more into my teens - during my high school years, when I'd have considered myself to be "old enough" to "try" & taste some coffee. I had a tiny rebel spirit & yet was so far from truly rebelling.

So as I mixed that spoonful of coffee into the boiling water in Dad's mug, I found myself drinking/licking the spoon dry. I wasn't satisfied with that sip. And I didn't want the caffeine addiction I knew many coffee & caffeine drinkers as having. I never bothered with coffee again.

Our house always had hot tea. When I was a very young girl our refrigerator & dinner table also included a container of iced tea. The iced tea container faded out of the scene by the time I'd hit double digits. It was on the occasions our family stopped for breakfast after church when we kids first began to enjoy a cup of hot tea. With sugar. Or is the saying, "Would you like some hot tea with that sugar?" In modeling our mother, at least two heaping, unrounded spoonfuls of sugar would be added to our mugs full of steaming hot tea before sending the sweet mixture down our throats. In those days restaurants only offered black tea when customers requested hot tea. And in those days Mom hadn't learned about the great impact of that sugar being in her hot tea, or her general diet, let alone to be able to educate her family.

Nowadays I don't care for the flavor of black tea. I also know that green tea (as well as white, red, & others) has more nutritional factors than black tea. These teas come in a wide variety of flavors - so flavorful, in fact, that adding sugar isn't a consideration.

Searching for Words

A fond memory I've from my childhood is Mom's compliments of my skimming talent. She spoke sincerely more than once through those special, impacting years stating, "You're really good at skimming." It's a 'silly, not silly' thing, yet I'm certain I became a better skimmer simply because of her mentioning.

That, & Wordsearches. Yes, back (a few years 😝) before every adolescent through 99 year old began carrying a smartphone or tablet in their bag or back pocket, some of my happiest moments were having a paperback Wordsearch book & pen nearby, in case, you know, I had a few seconds to kill. Some searches actually challenged me & it'd take me more than the typical 'few minutes' to locate a word or two. Others basically bored me as I'd fly through them too quickly, or at least felt that I was noticing the majority of the words listed as I initially looked at the scrambled block of letters. I also recall the extraordinary searches where a "List of Words to Find" was not provided. An extraordinary challenge all its own!

Other kids might have begged for candy in the checkout line. If I bothered to request anything, it'd have been a new Wordsearch book, & likely knowing that mine were basically full of completed searches. Need a stocking stuffer for me? Yep, grab a few Wordsearch books; that'll work just fine.

I kept the books around & handy for times like when we'd be visiting our grandmother's houses, or when traveling on vacation. Even if we were simply stopping to refill our gas tank, I might be glancing at a Wordsearch just because I'd want to crack "just one more". Almost like finishing a chapter & saying you'll put the book down for a bit & focus on something else, suddenly you realize you've just glanced at the page on the right & digested the first few sentences. Yea, kind of like that.

This ability must have served me well over the years...Well, yes, & well, no...I've never felt I'm nearly as good as the nearest crossword puzzler. Those puzzles are the real challenge. The letters I'm in need of, even if I'm to come up with my own listing, are all right there in front of me. A crossword puzzle solver must know their words; they must know their vocabulary & what relates to particular subjects. In short, I've never been able to tackle crossword puzzles. (Well, full discloser: back when I paid attention to "celebrity news" more than I should have, I could finish, or nearly finish, the puzzles in their corresponding magazines; the ones with all their names & the movies, TV shows, & music they were involved in.)

The, well, yes...of it: As I don't work well under pressure, yet enjoy a reasonably light challenge, needing to skim for just about anything, I'm the gal for that. If I'm under pressure, I'm freaking out that I'm short on time. If I'm to fill a quota, again, I'm freaking out that I'm short on time. If I'm just asked, & am minimally distracted (or, not at all distracted [way better!!!]) then, yes, I'm a top-notch skimmer!

So, where am I at now that I, along with everyone adolescent to 99 years does carry an app around where they can complete word searches to their hearts content? Well, years after I first began using a smartphone I somehow came to notice the Wordsearch app option. I've never taken to game apps as I'd rather be doing something with my "spare time" which actually results in something; an actual 'something' being tangibly created. It might have been that the app popped on my screen as an app suggestion after I downloaded something else (maybe Gas Buddy, I don't know [I didn't note it as a relevant suggestion]). I worked my way through a few puzzles. I think, at the time, I was in a line for the ladies' room. That app had an unnecessary feature; it timed me. I wasn't bogged down by it. It was kind of nice actually. I enjoyed seeing if my timing from one, similar puzzle to the next was all that comparable. At the same time, however, the timer wasn't pausible. And I needed to pause it a lot. Bummer. So the app sat there in its space on my phone's screen awaiting my needing it again. Sometime. Yet it wasn't something I'd missed & went in search of (oh, a pun! 😁), so... Incidentally, not too long after this electronic word search experience I happened to begin using a new smartphone. And I didn't bother to transfer the app. And I haven't used it since. I think I'll always be a paperback book Wordsearcher.

And I'm ready to skim & search too! 😃

Considering Options in External Laptop Mice

On an old laptop my touchpad mouse became fidgety. I'd click on one thing & another would happen, or I'd think I was clicking on something, yet my screen was showing no activity leaving me to keep on clicking absentmindedly hoping to establish a successful connection: no-go. Eventually the touchpad ceased to work at all.

Enter a need for an external mouse. Initially a cordless one, one that would be battery-operated, seemed most sensible. These had their pros & cons. Though they aren't corded, they still take up one of the laptop's USB ports in order to digitally connect. Also, as they aren't corded, they are battery-operated. Being battery-operated means the battery will need to be replaced from time to time. And on what surface the mouse is used can affect how quickly the batteries will need to be changed.

In an office, using a cordless mouse atop a desk, the battery may last six months or more. In a home environment, along a bed comforter, a lap-pad, or carpet, the batter may only last a week to ten days. This is also cause for having replacement batteries on hand, otherwise it's back to that hopeless touchpad which led to the need for the external mouse in the first place.

Then there is the equally convenient corded mouse. These mice will still be taking up residence hogging a USB port, yet concerns regarding its wearing out are basically nonexistent. A corded mouse uses no batteries. It's plugged in; it works. And the cord is plenty long to be dragged for quite a distance. It seems using it from its further reached, one would hardly be able to clearly see their laptop's screen anyway.

Another perk to an external mouse (battery-operated or corded) is its roller ball. That feature, omitted from many a basic laptop touchpad, is convenient & useful. So often it's necessary to move the mouse over to the far right of the screen only to then realize it's necessary to also figure out, out of the few scroll bars located in that space, which one it is that is connected to the work you're intent upon. By then mental rhythms have dispersed & dissolved. A roller ball allows its user to stay on-task, holding the work right in place, yet efficiently moving along. The user remains content & productive as they continue their progress.

Piecing Together Jigsaw Puzzles

Jigsaw puzzles. As a child I assembled, or helped assemble quite a few. Our family would pick out a puzzle from the stack & dump its pieces across a table. We didn't have special sorting dishes for puzzle pieces, nor puzzle glue, or a fold-it-up-for-now-&-resume-it-later-when-we-have-time-again-mat.

We'd begin by turning all of the pieces to the puzzle side versus the back side. Then we'd separate the edge pieces. We'd use the puzzle box cover to begin grouping the pieces together based on what section of the puzzle they seemed to belong to. If there were a large field of grass, we'd gather all of the hazy green pieces in one section & one of us would likely try that challenge on our own before joining it to whatever else had been formed on the main frame. If there were "word pieces" where a store front with a shop's name would be written out, those pieces would go in a pile of their own as well.

Most of the puzzles we'd assemble would be 1000 piece puzzles. Some 1500 & 2000 piece puzzles crept into our pile & I think that at least one 4000 piece puzzle did too. I think that one had such tiny pieces that we were concerned we'd lose them & therefore we didn't challenge ourselves with it all that much.

Many of the puzzles we assembled had country scenes where we'd see a farm in one section, a family in another, a small "town scene", & some horses both grazing in a pasture as well as affixed to buggies & carriages carrying the townspeople who'd be donning their attire, circa the 1800s. Long skirts with aprons, bonnets, gloves, men with top hats & long coats.

Charles Wysocki painted many in our collection & we'd mention his name when we'd pull out one. "It's a Charles Wysocki." and we'd notice the many similarities between his various pieces-turned-puzzles that we had in our collection.

Puzzles were a great way to spend time together without time commitments. Challenges lay all around, yet pressure didn't exist. Everyone could choose to participate whenever they might have interest. And, except for lighting, assembling the puzzle used no electricity; in fact, those we assembled either outside or during daylight hours, didn't require any electricity for lighting.

Sometimes we'd be waiting on a load of laundry to finish, sometimes we'd be waiting on a commercial break to end, sometimes we'd be waiting for a meal to finish being prepared, sometimes we'd be procrastinating finishing up school work or studying for a test. Sometimes it was just one or two of us assembling the puzzle after the initial "opening of the box"; sometimes we were all there all the way till it was all assembled & we could reveal the final product all together.

There were frustrations &  difficulties too. If we all were together when the last piece was to go in, the decision of who got to "officially finish it" became an issue. If we'd begun working on one section of the puzzle & then considered that another (that someone else might have begun already) seemed to be "better", trying to "take over" or "switch" wasn't always so simple.

On occasion we'd truly challenge ourselves & not use the box's lid as a guide. We'd have an awareness from when we'd pulled it from the stack, yet we'd still need to leave & resume, or finish later (sometimes days later) & the challenge would continue (as well as the desire to cheat!).

Recalling these moments leaves me with a soft chuckle as I recall the "head start" pieces: Those pieces which weren't completely taken apart during the dissembling of the puzzle & resuming the box's placement in the puzzle & games stack. We'd joke & say we needed to take them apart before we began, yet we already knew they'd join together. So we dissembled them & reassembled them & feel we'd already accomplished some of the puzzle, even if only a joining a few pieces, possibly from a random section two thirds way over, together.

Like most everything from those decades of life, times changed, & so did our schedules. After school influences such as school-related activities & after-school jobs weighed in. As we worked our way through adolescence &, eventually, school graduation, at least one of these puzzles would begin as they'd all begun, yet were torn apart long before the last piece had a chance to become the remainder on the table. We'd need the table we were assembling the puzzle on for another project or event.