"How can a nation be great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?" ~ Julia Child

The National Weather Service has forcasted a major ice storm event for most of Arkansas for the next two days. I got back from WalMart about one and a half hours ago. I think every young mother with her pre-school kids and every blue-haired old lady (mine is gray, thank you very much) with her unwilling husband were there.

Luckily, I was not shopping for milk or bread. By the time I arrived, the pickings were very slim; only skim milk was left and a few loaves of faux-whole wheat bread.

I have always wondered what these people make with all that bread and milk. Bread pudding? French toast? That's all I can think of. Not me. I was there for apples, buttermilk (abundant because it's not necessarily desirable for baby bottles, coffee or bread pudding), dog food and avocados.

No, I'm not making anything with dog food. The dog food is really for the dog. Tonight's menu is Tuscan Soup and Apple-Buttermilk Custard Pie, neither of which I've posted recipes for on my food blog, Terri's Table. Tomorrow night, Tom is making a Chicken Tortilla Soup.

We are set for at least a few days.

"Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you." ~ Marsha Norman

Okay. These weird dreams can stop any time now.

Last night I dreamed that our mentally retarded dog, Goldie, threw up on the carpet in the den in the spot where she usually sleeps and she sat on her hindquarters for hours next to the spot, looking at me, sort of wondering when I was going to clean it up so she could go to sleep.

If you are familiar at all with Goldie, you know that nothing, absolutely nothing would keep her from getting her 23-1/2 hours beauty sleep. In reality, she would have merely found another spot to stretch out.

Now, don't ask me why it took me hours to clean Goldie's barf spot up. I don't know why. It was a dream and I don't think cleaning up barf was the point.

Whoops . . . Just as a wrote "I don't think cleaning up barf was the point", my gut reaction was, maybe it was about cleaning something up. Maybe. But, dreams are rarely that simple.

So, I've dreamed about living in a homeless community (two or three nights so far), buying a $12 onion, looking for grandchildren whose names have been changed and cleaning up dog barf so my dog can finally get some rest. How is that for a stream of unconsciousness? What all of those situations have in common, I'm not really sure. There's really no common denominator, or enough of one to string them together into a rational stream of consciousness. What I do know is that those dreams weren't really about being homeless, onions, grandchildren or my dog and her barf.

How I go about delving into the meaning of these dreams is by looking at the symbolism and free associating. I haven't done that yet because I can't seem to get passed what they mean consciously or "in reality." For example, the fear of being homeless, my son hiding his children from me or not being able to buy food. Most people would think, yeah, well, makes sense to me. I figured it out. Move on. Not so for me. I know they mean something else.

I believe my dreams are elaborate pictures of my unconscious; how I view, interact with and interpret the world I live in. For over a week, I've been dreaming about these intricate and highly nuanced situations. And when I'm awake, I've been a fearful, emotional, crying, blubbering idiot. Finally, my unconscious got a little frustrated that I was not getting the message and gave me the "Terri for Dummies" version. Last night I had the not-so-intricate and not-so-nuanced dream about Goldie and her barf. Not very elaborate. In fact, it was pretty straight forward ~ I've set myself up to be the Cleaner of Other People's Messes. Well, duh.

“Happiness is not a matter of intensity but of balance, order, rhythm and harmony.” Thomas Merton

So, how does one achieve balance? Honestly, I don't really know.

It's just like these last 3 weeks since I started my new job. I can't seem to get my balance. I do one thing and it throws off everything else. I have sort of prioritized my life and put some things on the back burner. For one thing, I spend a whole lot less time on the computer. This morning I opened my Google reader and had 273 feeds to read. Sure, like I'm going to read all of them. I skimmed through the list, reading posts from a couple of my favorite blogs, copied recipes from others and just deleted the rest. Who has the freakin' time to read 273 posts??

I have sorely neglected both of my blogs; my food blog in particular. It's a matter of finding the time I need to post and wanting to write. I've even considered deleting my food blog altogether, but I really haven't decided what I will do.

I'm still having very weird, very vivid, very emotional dreams. Night before last, I dreamed that Tom and I were in Nevada trying to visit Mike and Kathy. In the dream, they had changed the names of their children in an effort to keep us from finding them (the only one I remember is Lily; they changed her name to Debbie). Now I know that logically, that wouldn't make any sense, but emotionally...well, it's hard to put on eye makeup when your crying. The symbolism had a profound effect on me and I had a hard time pulling myself together so I could go to work.

And, about my new job. It's okay. The funny thing is that in this job, I am learning and using all kinds of new medical and anatomical terminology. Me. The person who hates science so much that I can't listen to Talk of the Nation:Science Friday on NPR. Go figure.

Anyway, the physical therapy clinic where I work is small, so for me there is a lot of down time and, oddly enough, I'm sick of playing spider solitaire. When I go back to work next week, I'm going to ask Greg if he will train me to work as a physical therapy assistant so I can keep busy. But, that's next week.

Right now, today, well... first, I am going to make my bed and hang up the week's worth of work clothes that I've just thrown on the chair in my bedroom, rather than hang them up or put them in the laundry basket (obviously, this was not at the top of my priority list). After that, I am going to bring in the cross Tom made for our church and put a coat of finish on it (I will take pictures) and maybe start applying the silver leafing to the plugs that will be inserted into the center of the cross to represent the Holy Trinity. In between, I will figure out what we are going to have for dinner (some kinda meat), take a shower, do some laundry and whatever else comes to mind.

As for balance in my life. I think it's just a matter of perspective. Some days I feel completely scattered and rocky; other days I feel grounded and focused. Today, I'm feeling kind of in between. Ask me again in 15 minutes. Believe me, my answer could be completely different.

Racism is man's gravest threat to man - the maximum of hatred for a minimum of reason. ~ Abraham Joshua Heschel

This morning, Barack Hussein Obama, was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States. I honestly never thought a man or woman of color would ever become President during my lifetime. I've lived a long time and I've been witness to a lot of racism and I just never thought it possible.

On this historic day, I am thinking about my time at Philander Smith College.

Philander Smith College was founded in 1887 to "make education available to freedmen (former African American slaves)." In 1980, President Jimmy Carter signed an executive order, the White House Initiative on Historically Black Colleges and Universities, which designated Philander Smith College, along with 102 other public and private institutions, as a national resource to whose principal mission is to educate black Americans.

In 2002, I became the first white person to be hired to an executive position at the college.

It was a tumultuous year for me. At the college, I encountered mistrust, fear, anger and suspicion which ultimately forced my resignation. I also underestimated the reaction of my colleagues. I thought perhaps my appointment might have a small negative effect on my career, but I was not prepared for the level of exclusion I experienced at state meetings and conferences. No matter. I learned more about the African-American community and myself in that year that I had in my entire lifetime. I saw and experienced first-hand a part of America I'd only heard and read about.

Today, I am thinking about the former President of Philander Smith College, Trudie Kibbe Reed. She received her bachelors, masters and doctorate degrees at a university in Texas, despite continued racial bullying and threats, and became the first woman to be appointed President of PSC.

I am thinking about Dr. Jesse Hargrove and the story he told me about his year at UC Berkeley where he and his peers from other HBCU's were subjected to being studied for IQ genetic inferiority, even though Dr. Hargrove was studying 6 languages there.

I am thinking about the 17-year old girl from the Arkansas delta who visited the campus during one of our summer meet and greets. While on a tour of the library, she rode the elevator up and down several times before the tour guide could coax her out. It was her first time in an elevator.

I am thinking about the 19-year old young man, fresh out of jail and newly enrolled, who was living in his car. His parents moved while he was in jail and he had no idea where they'd gone.

I am thinking about all of the students of color I met during my time at Philander Smith College. I am thinking that the level of suspicion and mistrust I felt as a minority in that environment pales in comparison to the suspicion and mistrust those students, their families and friends feel on a daily basis.

I don't think we white Americans can fully appreciate the symbolism of an African-American President for the African-American community. We've always had white teachers, white principals, white doctors, white senators, white leaders, white Presidents. We only needed to look around us to see ourselves, our color.

Now, Dr. Reed, Dr. Hargrove, the 17-year old girl and the 19-year old boy can look at President Barack Obama's face and finally see themselves reflected in his eyes.

To silence another, first be silent yourself. ~ Latin Proverb

I'd like to think that little bit of wisdom is true, but I'm not so sure. When people think they are right or when they think they are deserving or even when they are just being ugly because that's all they know how to do, it seems they believe they have the right to spew whatever it is that is on their minds...no matter how small their minds seem to be.

How do you keep silent? Or, how do you respond without sounding judgemental?

I guess the honest truth is, it is judgmental. So, basically, I guess I just need shut up.


My occasional Daybook FOR TODAY JANUARY 19, 2009...

Outside my window...it's sunny and the temperature is about 45, but it seems colder. The wind is cold.

Waiting...just waiting, that's all.

Catching up on...ordering online the items I can't get here.

I am thinking...too much.

I am thankful for...Tom.

From the kitchen...I hear the television tuned into CNN and something else coming from Karen's room.

I am wearing...sweats and Ugg-style boots.

I am creating...a situation for myself, I'm afraid. I hope that's not the case, but I'm trying to handle things differently than I normally would and it makes me extremely uncomfortable because I can't predict the outcome.

I am going...to scream, possibly.

I am reading...Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou...yes, still.

I am hoping...things will change.

I am remembering...what it was like to work at a job I loved.

I am hearing...too much noise.

Around the house...there are three people and three animals living here right now, but little meaningful conversation or connection.

One of my favorite things...silence.

Recently...I put the first coat of stain on the cross Tom made for our church and I will put a second coat on this afternoon. Tomorrow afternoon I will apply the first coat of lacquer.

A few plans for the near future...they are always the same; sell the flip house and finish the remodel of our house, yada, yada, yada.

Plans to focus on...just making it through day to day.

Here is a picture thought I am sharing...



Based loosely on the The Simple Woman’s Daybook

God can pick sense out of a confused prayer. ~ Richard Sibbes

I'm not confused. My prayer is very straightforward.

God, PLEASE help me keep my mouth shut!

Being an author is having angels whisper in your ear - and devils, too. ~ Graycie Harmon

There are days when I could sit down and write pages and pages. Then there are those other days when I have a million thoughts swimming in my head and a million and a half emotions swirling around in my gut and I can't make sense of any of it, let alone put it all to words.

That's how it's been this last week.

I started my second week of work, although it was my first "real" work week. Training was over; I was on my own, so to speak. It was okay, but it's not what I'm used to and that's hard. I also worked more hours this week than I usually would. Wednesday and Thursday was 8:00 to 6:00 and by the end of Thursday, I just wanted to come home and go to bed.

And, I've had the same dream for the last 3 nights or so. I'm dreaming I'm in some sort of futuristic community where everyone either lives in their cars or in small shacks. In last night's dream, a new family came into the community bringing all of what was left of their possessions with them. I was in the middle of cooking a meal over a make-shift stove while watching them settle into a small piece of dirt next to a large rock. I went over to them, introduced myself and saw they had brought with them a large bag of onions. I asked them if I could buy an onion from them for the meal that I was cooking. They sold one onion to me for $12. Yes, even in my dream, it seemed a little over the top for an onion.

The really awful thing about each of my dreams was that my teeth started disintegrating; just crumbling into small pieces, a couple of teeth at a time, in my mouth; and I would spit out pieces of crumbled tooth into my hands. It was devastating.

Now, you can go to any dream interpretation book and find a reference to losing teeth. Those books would lead us to believe that losing or breaking teeth means exactly the same thing to each one of us who might have the same sort of dream. I don't buy that.

I am of the Jungian (Carl Jung) crowd. In my late twenties, I studied some of his writings and came to agree with his concepts of psychological archetypes and the collective unconscious. He cautioned us to not rely too heavily on science and logic and believed that we, as a society and as individuals, would benefit from integrating spirituality and appreciation of unconscious realms. His theories about dreams make more sense to me than any others. Jung's theory was that a dream was a direct message from the personal unconscious. Every person's dream is unique to them and every symbol is associated to something personal to each of us.

In addition to crumbling teeth, the living conditions in my dreams were devastating. The landscape and environment were devastating. The filth was devastating. It made me feel physically ill and I wanted to vomit, but I didn't. I kept to myself and hardly spoke to anyone. I felt completely alone.

What does all this mean to me? If I were to free associate the symbolism in this dream, I would have to say that I'm not going to do that right now, because if I did, I would be a blubbering puddle. Suffice it to say, my unconscious IS trying to communicate with me.

So, moving right along...what are my plans for the upcoming week? Hopefully, I will settle into some sort of routine. I have Mondays off from my job, so I will run errands tomorrow morning.

Tom has built a cross for our church. I will stain it tomorrow and maybe put a coat of finish on it Tuesday afternoon. Who knows, maybe tomorrow afternoon I will also begin to tackle the kitchen cabinet doors that so desperately call out daily for much needed attention and paint.

Yep, who knows. Maybe I will actually begin to move forward again... just maybe.

Warning Will Robinson, Warning ! Nostalgic Old Fart On The Loose...

During our Christmas vacation year before last, I signed up on a genealogy website and after a lengthy hiatus, I have gone back to searching out records of my family ancestors.

Recently, I have found newspaper articles about aunts and an uncle (with photos) and birth records for cousins. It makes me feel so nostalgic and I start reminiscing about what it was like growing up in Fresno, California.

We lived in an apartment until I finished 2nd grade with my favorite teacher of all time, Mrs. Maglio. After that, we moved from the apartment to a house on North Del Mar. We thought it was a huge house, but when I look back now I realize it was quite small, but with a huge back yard where my father maintained a large garden every spring and summer. Sitting near the garden was our beloved Doughboy above ground swimming pool. My parents kept the swimming pool water clear and clean with a half gallon of household bleach added to the water every so often.

The house had three bedrooms and one bathroom. Can you imagine a house with only one bathroom?? There were seven of us ~ my parents and five of us girls. How did we ever survive with one toilet, one sink and one bathtub?

Boy, I can sure tell that I am getting old. Every time I watch a movie or television program, something invariably reminds me of "the way things used to be" when I was growing up, and maybe even when my kids were growing up.

Life is so different now. It was long before the Internet or the MAC; before semi-automatic weapons; before Pong, SEGA, Super Nintendo, Playstation, X-Box or Wii... Waayyyy back....I remember....

Hide and seek at dusk. The ice cream man.
Red light, green light. Marco, Polo.
Hopscotch, butterscotch, double Dutch, jacks, kickball, dodge ball. Mother May I?
Red Rover, red rover, let Terri come over...
Hula Hoops...I think my Uncle Vern may still have an 8-millimeter film of me walking and hula-hooping at the same time!
Wax lips and mustaches.

I remember...

Dinky Creek and the icy cold water. My Uncle Vern's friend jumped in the cold water without testing the water first and lost his breath. I thought he might drown. Camping at Bass Lake. That's where I learned to swim..

Saturday Morning cartoons consisted of Road Runner, Bugs Bunny, Felix the Cat and Popeye and very, very short commercials.

In the summer, walking barefoot...all the time, everywhere. Getting a million mosquito bites. When I didn't notice, let alone care, if my fingernails were dirty.
I remember playing Cops and Robbers or Cowboys and Indians or Teacher and Class (before I was even in school).

I remember...

walking to school, no matter what the weather. Running till I was out of breath. Laughing so hard that my stomach hurt. Jumping on the bed. Pillow fights. And getting in trouble for it.

Spinning around, getting dizzy and falling down ~ on purpose ~ and laughing about it.
Being tired from playing.... Remember that?

I remember...

When the absolute worst embarrassment was being picked last for a team.
War was a card game. Water balloons were the ultimate weapon. A single card from the deck fastened in the spokes transformed any bike into a motorcycle.

I remember eating Kool-aid powder from the envelope, my tongue and dipping finger stained bright red.

Keds. And the only time anyone wore sneakers was for gym.

If I got an allowance, a quarter was a decent amount. Even better when the tooth fairy traded my lost tooth for a dime. Whoo Hoo! 35¢. And, I'd reach into a mud puddle for a penny. Christmas shopping at Ben Franklin 5 & Dime. Buying Evening in Paris "perfume" in the blue bottle for my mother.

I remember...

Service stations...Yes, they sold gasoline, but you got your windshield cleaned, oil checked, and gas pumped, without asking, for free, every time. People were actually hired to do all that FOR you! That's why they were called SERVICE stations.

I remember when laundry detergent had prizes hidden just beneath the surface of the detergent. Our family accumulated a full set of free glasses and dishes from the prizes hidden inside the box.

I remember when everyone else's mom was at home when the kids got there.

All my female teachers wore dresses everyday and all of my male teachers wore neckties, even the coaches. Only the "hoods" wore jeans.

The only drug in our house was orange-flavored "baby" aspirin.

I remember clotheslines and clothesline poles. Back in the day, before clothes dryers, we hung things on a clothesline. Every home in our neighborhood had one. Hanging clothes outside on the line meant that someone was going to have to iron them ~ you know, with an iron and ironing board...remember those? I remember retrieving the dry clothes off the clothesline for my mom, burying my face in the stiff towels and sheets and taking a deep breath. That's what sunshine smells like. I don't think we bought a dryer until we moved to northern California, probably somewhere around 1960. Our clothes never smelled the same.

I remember home-made ice cream. Before Ben & Jerry's. Even before our local Baskin-Robbins franchise. You know, the real kind with real cream, sugar and fresh fruit, put into the can that was surrounded by salt and ice fit into a large tub. My dad would sit and turn the crank by hand until it was frozen and silky smooth. My favorite was fresh peach ice cream, using the peaches from our own trees in the back yard. Boy oh boy, that was good.

I remember our first TV set... I can still remember the day we got it. My dad had help hoisting the huge antenna up on the roof. When we finally turned it on, it took five minutes for the TV to warm up, then all we could get was a test pattern until about five o'clock. We'd have programming until about 10 or 11:00 pm, then a test pattern again.

Before TV, there was radio. I remember sitting on the floor, playing with my toys listening to the Lone Ranger, Our Miss Brooks, Amos n Andy, Jack Benny, Fibber McGee and Molly and The Great Gildersleeve (Leeeeeroyyyy!).

Window air conditioners... I know, they still sell them, but back in the day they were a modern luxury! We cooled our house with this box hooked up to a water hose that dripped water through it. Probably about as effective as blowing a fan across a block of ice. But, ahhhhh, it felt so good. Our house on North Del Mar had a swamp cooler on top of the roof. We thought it was the bomb!

I remember when all cars had stick shifts. That's how I learned to drive a car. I can't count how many times I stalled the car not giving it enough gas! But when I learned how to down shift while coming up to a stop sign...well, then I was cool.

Before pants with words written on the butt and "whale tales", there were petticoats and poodle skirts made of felt...You needed those petticoats for the poodle skirts to "swish" just right.

I remember roller skating in an indoor roller rink...We didn't think twice about putting on a pair of skanky looking rented skates that had been used by who knows how many sweaty pre-teens and teens. I remember when they used to call, "All Skate," "Backwards Only," and when they announced the dreaded "Couples Skate" because no one ever picked me.

The Kennedy Assassination (1963)...I was a senior in high school. It was just after lunch and the bell had rung for class. The bell stopped ringing and the principal announced it to all the classes and in the halls through the loudspeaker. In all of my remaining classes, we listened to the radio. No one talked. No one joked. It was quiet all afternoon. Even as we filed out of the classrooms when school was dismissed, the halls were eerily quiet.

I remember the first time I saw Elvis Presley...On The Ed Sullivan Shoe...sorry Show ~ that a joke back then, too. My parents' thought Elvis was disgusting and weren't going to let us watch it. It was a huge deal when the cameras didn't pan down below Elvis' chest. I didn't really understand what the big deal was.

Then Fats Domino came out with Blueberry Hill...People went nuts, including my parents, because they thought it was a dirty song.

I remember when milkmen delivered milk...in real glass bottles, put in a crate on the front porch. Our milk came with a layer of cream on top and we'd shake the bottle to mix it up.

When I was growing up, we didn't dare talk back to an adult. When someone "cussed," it was a big deal.
No one got grounded, but nearly everyone got a "spanking" at one time or another.

Our greatest fear was getting in trouble at school, going to the principal's office and the principal calling our parents. We didn't worry about kidnappers, serial killers, pedophiles, gangs and guns.

We didn't have all the conveniences and gadgets. We had our imaginations. We had a lot more freedom. We had piece of mind.

I Honestly Don't Mean to be a Polly-Anna, but...

On some level, times are tough for nearly everyone, but each challenge is an opportunity, a blessing in disguise...whatever you want to call it.

I love quotes, inspirational stories, words of wisdom. I collect them and I also receive several by email. I received the following in an email this morning...

"Diamonds are the crystalline form of carbon, transformed by extreme heat and pressure. The constant pressure of billions of years eventually transforms the worthless chunk of coal into a valuable precious stone.

Just like life.

Overwhelming pressure can always be converted into opportunity. And it doesn't have to take billions of years. The moment we shift our consciousness and recognize the spiritual value concealed within our hardships, a sparkling, new diamond is formed.

What diamonds are in the making for you? Focus on one difficult situation today and allow yourself to see it as a gem in the making."

I know. It's hard to do. It's hard to see opportunity in hardship. I have a real difficult time seeing opportunities in my challenges. I admire those who can. Like my son, Chris.

Chris was laid off from his job about a month ago. Sure, he's filed for unemployment and he's looking for work, but he's also planning. He's working on a plan to do what he has wanted to do for years ~ open a restaurant. He's contacting investors, securing his permits, developing a menu, looking for space. Even in this most horrible economic slump of our lifetime and in his most precarious financial situation, Chris has decided to remain positive, look forward, believe in himself and achieve his dream.

Don't we all wish we could be like that?

Does Anyone Use The Term "Fuddy-Duddy" Anymore??

I'm not hip, cool, chic, new, trendy, all that, radical, pimp or the shit. I am, in fact, an old fuddy-duddy, defined in the Urban Dictionary as: "An old, boring, no humor, crabby, no imagination, anal-retentive person." Yep, that apparently would be me.

While everyone ~ and when I say everyone, I mean everyone younger than me ~ is praising, applauding and high-fiving Tina Fey this morning, I am sitting here shaking my head and wondering when I lost it. Where did I put my sense of humor? I can't seem to find it.

For lack of anything else, last night we watched part of the Golden Globe Awards on television. We had gone to bed early, which has become a bit of a ritual since we bought our warming mattress pad; we turn it up to 4 and climb into a toasty, warm bed on a cold night (so much better than sitting upright on a cold leather chair in the den). I turned on the television and after repeatedly scanning through the 300+ channels available to us on Directv, we settled on the Golden Globes.

It seemed like their were more presenters than winners, but I suppose one cannot allow all that fancy dress money go to waste. One HAS to appear in front of the camera at least once. So, anyway...we didn't watch it from the beginning, so we were fortunate enough to miss JLo, the most overrated entertainer of 2005, 2006, 2007 AND 2008 (sorry, if that insults you). We tuned in somewhere after the middle, but fairly close to the end, I think. Okay, I'm not making any sense, so I will move on to my point.

Tina Fey. You cannot be alive, own a television and not at least have heard her name. She is formerly a Saturday Night Live cast member and currently the star and writer of 30 Rock. In the spirit of full disclosure, you are entitled to know that I think I have watched SNL maybe 4 times since it debuted in 1975. I didn't see Tina Fey on SNL until she returned to play Sarah Palin during the election last year. As for 30 Rock, I think it is well into it's fourth season and I've probably seen 2 full shows and parts of others. Okay, okay.. I'm getting to my point...soon.

When I read my daily papers this morning, I was more than a little puzzled, although not surprised, by the accolades for Tina Fey's acceptance speech for best actress in a comedy series. I will not quote her speech here, but if you have not seen it and would like to you can do that here. "Hilarious," they said. "The Comic Genius of Tina Fey," read another headline. Me? Only one word comes to mind: Rude.

Rude is defined as ill-mannered; lacking in refinement or grace; lacking civility and good manners; crude. Her speech was all of that. I was not only astounded by the manner in which Tina Fey chose to attack the critics who don't think she is particularly funny or talented, I am completely dismayed by the accolades she is receiving for doing so.

I'm an old fogey. I admit it. I don't get a lot of things, but mostly I don't get stuff like that. I miss heart-felt thank you's, acknowledgment of appreciation, expressions of gratitude, humility. It's been replaced with arrogance, pompousness, pretension and self-importance. What happened to us? Are we so disconnected, isolated and anonymous that we believe that our behavior, our words no longer matter?

I remember a quote that I read or heard somewhere that provides a most descriptive analysis: "Our world has lost its finesse."

I think that is accurate. I just wonder how we get it back.

“What I lack in decorum, I make up for with an absence of tact.” Don Williams, Jr.

We went to the Sugar Bears basketball game tonight. They lost 50 to 51. They need a lot more experience. The team lost most of their experienced players last year when the seniors graduated; only two seniors on the team now, maybe three juniors and the rest are freshman and sophomores. I don't think they will be conference champs again this year.

When we got home, I don't know what happened to me, but I was in kind of a pissy mood. I realized it after a few little exchanges with Tom and Karen and decided I should just shut up.

We weren't hungry when we got home at 6:00pm because we'd eaten a big lunch, so I suggested that we watch a movie and decide on dinner much later.

As Tom was looking through our very sizable movie library, suggesting title after title, I made some smart alec remark.

Tom: What did you say, Hon?
Me: Nothin'. Never mind. I'm just talking out of my ass.
Tom: What??! Turn around, I want to see that! Does your ass have lips??

I hate it when I don't have a smart ass retort...

This and That...

My last post was Monday. Please forgive the long pause in between, but I've been busy and bitchy, and I really didn't want to inflict "bitchy" on anyone ~ except for Tom, that is.

I worked 2 hours each day this week at my new job, essentially training, and I start "for real" on Tuesday. I like the people I work with and enjoy talking and joking with the patients, so I think everything will be okay in the job department.

The job location couldn't be a more convenient. It is just about 5 minutes from home. After all those years of commuting ~ from our farm to Conway (35 minutes one way), from our farm to Little Rock (an hour one way) ~ this is a breeze. And it's also cheap, so whatever I make is nearly free and clear with little or no job-related expenses, not even work clothes. God knows I already have the work wardrobe. It will be nice to wear my work clothes again every day, instead going to my closet every morning and just petting them with a wistful look in my eye.

So, what else is happening? Well, I realized day before yesterday that I had nearly severely dehydrated myself. Night before last was literally my awakening, since I spent most of the night awake...nausea, dizziness, leg cramps periodically throughout the night. Yesterday I drank 3 liters of water and I feel better today, but not completely myself, so I am trying to get down another 3 liters today. I am usually a big water drinker, but I guess I just didn't feel thirsty and it's been cold and I didn't really think about it. Dumb. Water, water, water...no matter what!

Another thing...I am bummed for my sons. As of yesterday, they are both unemployed. I know it's happening all over, but crap! Like everyone else, they have families and struggling even for a week or so is just tough...and scary.

And another thing...I have come to conclusion that our dog, Goldie, is not just a poor, formerly abused kennel-dog/one-dog-puppy mill. I think someone dropped her on her head when she was a puppy and she is brain damaged. This dog is just a floor lump! Take a look at this photo...



Isn't this the quintessential family dog photo? Dog, den, fireplace, footstool: the dog laying quietly in the den by the hearth. So Norman Rockwell. But, what if I told you that is all she does? Not only must she claim her space in front of the hearth, but she must be between the hearth and the footstool. She will NOT wander into the kitchen. She will NOT wander into the living room. She will NOT wander...period. She will NOT let us know if she has to go out to pee or poop. She will NOT let us know if she is hungry or thirsty. Nothing. She will lay in front of that hearth all day long, if we let her. Don't get me wrong, she doesn't pee or poop in the house. We let her out first thing in the morning about 6:30am or so. She pees and poops and comes back to the porch and sits staring longingly through the glass door into the kitchen. Tom gets her bowl, fixes her food and puts her bowl out for her to eat. She eats, drinks water, then comes back to the porch and sits staring longingly through the glass door into the kitchen. When we let her in, she literally dives through the the back door, through the kitchen to the den and that's where she will stay until I make her go outside around noon...hopefully to pee and poop. Most of the time she doesn't. She just sits on the porch and stares longingly through the glass door into the kitchen. I usually wait at least an hour to let her back in and...guess what...you got it...she dives through the back door, through the kitchen and back to her spot in the den. A few days ago, we left Goldie in the house all day. As usual, she slept all day in front of the hearth. I put her out about an hour before we went to bed and she sat in front of the back door for a few minutes then went down the two steps to her water bowl next to the porch. Goldie was so thirsty that, I swear to you, that dog drank water continually for 2 minutes straight without a break. Com'on! That is NOT a smart dog! Even our vet, Dr. Chris, has said, Goldie has issues. Quite the diplomat, isn't he?

So, anyway, I have vented enough about my lump-of-a-dog, but I have to say that she is the most complacent animal I have ever seen. She doesn't have an aggressive bone in her body. So, when we went to Savannah to visit Chris, Kelly and the kids, we had no qualms about taking Goldie with us rather than putting her in the kennel again. She did just as well as I expected. She found a spot in the living room, where she laid all day and slept regardless of what was going on around her and she slept next to our bed in the travel trailer at night.

All three kids, Jacob, Tommy and Hagan, petted her frequently during the day and often laid next to her on the floor, sometimes using her as a pillow, while watching tv in the evening. Hagan hugged her around the neck several times a day and Goldie would just turn her head away to my or Tom's direction and look at us as if to say, Tell me we are not going to stay here forever! Which then brings me to our last evening at Chris' house when Hagan and Jacob decided to brush Goldie.

Now, Goldie has an outer coat and a very thick undercoat and when you brush her she sheds...a lot. Goldie laid quietly for almost an hour while Jacob and Hagan brushed her coat. Jacob used a comb to get the hair from the undercoat and would put it in a bag each time he cleaned the accumulated dog hair from the comb. Yes, I am getting to another thing...

After we left, Jacob decided to use the hair he combed from Goldie's coat to make a beard. I know, I know. Right now you are thinking, Ew, ew, ew, but lighten up. He's fifteen, very creative and he was very bored. So, I give you Jacob with a dog hair beard...



Okay now, take it easy. The dog hair is not glued to Jacob's face. He was much more creative than that. He cut out some construction paper to form around his chin and under his nose, then glued the dog hair to the construction paper. I forgot to ask how he attached the construction paper to his face, but I am assuming he used some kind of glue as well.

I admit, it is a little goofy, but when you are weighing the options...drugs, guns, gangs or dog hair beards...I'm pickin' the dog hair beard every time.

"Our grandchildren accept us for ourselves, without rebuke or effort to change us..."

..."as no one in our entire lives has ever done, not our parents, siblings, spouses, friends - and hardly ever our own grown children." ~ Ruth Goode


So for lack of anything else special to write, I give you my Occasional Daybook…

FOR TODAY, JANUARY 5, 2009...

Outside my window...it's cold and raining, with occasional sleet. A far cry from the 78 degrees we enjoyed Saturday. On our way home from dining out, we put the top down on the convertible. It felt like spring. Apparently, spring-like weather was short-lived. Currently it is 31 degrees outside.

Waiting…for spring, obviously.

Catching up on…paying bills and blogging, especially my food blog, Terri's Table, which I have seriously neglected.

I am thinking...that I will never figure out how to resolve some issues in my life and that those issues require more than my energy and my input to resolve them. I am beginning to think that perhaps some of those things are just unresolvable and maybe I should just give up on my end. Right now, it seems as though when there is one step of movement forward, I can expect 12 steps backward. Completely unproductive.

I am thankful for...having everything I need at this very moment. My house is warm and well-lit, I have food on the table, gas in my car, a little money in the bank and I'm starting a new job tomorrow. Some people are not so lucky.

From the kitchen...tonight's dinner is butternut squash soup and grilled portabella mushroom sandwiches.

I am wearing...warm clothes; long sleeve t-shirt, sweat shirt, Nike cold-weather running pants and Ugg-style boots.

I am creating...very little at the moment.

I am going...to stay home today and get caught up on office tasks.

I am reading...or rather finishing up "Letter to My Daughter" by Maya Angelou. Then I will start "Multiple Bles8ings" by Jon & Kate Gosselin, a book I received as a Christmas gift.

I am hoping...I enjoy my new job.

I am remembering…what summer was like when it was hot outside and I was wearing shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops...(sigh).

I am hearing...my sister, Karen, in the next room talking to her dog and cat. They are not answering.

Around the house...the floors are vacuumed and the furniture is dusted (thank you, Tom) and I can devote my time to other things...like laundry.

One of my favorite things...is counted cross-stitch. My sister-in-law, Carol, taught me years ago and I fell in love with it. In a couple of weeks, our small church is hosting Women's Day Out and we will meet at the church and complete some of the cross-stitch ornaments that were never finished and do some crafty stuff to prepare for next year's Christmas season.

Recently…I have been a little melancholy, which sometimes turns into biting sarcasm in order to hide the weepy side. Hey, you gotta have some defenses.

A few plans for the near future…start back to work on remodeling our house. I think Tom will start demolition on the laundry room in a couple of weeks. I will have to take before and after photos.

Plans to focus on…just trying to keep things simple and uncomplicated.

Here is a picture thought I am sharing...



Based loosely on the The Simple Woman’s Daybook

Lloyd, party of 2. Lloyd, party of 2...

We went out for dinner last night. Sushi. We haven't been out to dinner in quite some time and I've missed it. Tom has made reservations a couple of times, but some days it just seems like I'm too lazy to change clothes to dress up a little, so we'd cancel.

Now, I don't know what it's like where you live, but most places I have eaten sushi are busy. There is usually a wait if you want to sit at the sushi bar and just have sushi. Conway, Arkansas, is a little bit different. Sushi bars are not popular places. Sitting at the end of this very short, very unpopulated sushi bar is my husband, Tom (bald head and obligatory Hawaiian shirt ~ his wardrobe staple).



We were the only two people at the sushi bar at 6:30pm last night. I like it because there is never a wait and the service is really very personal. The restaurant is busy, has lots of nooks, booths and tepanyaki tables, and most people here seem to enjoy their food fully cooked accompanied by a showy chef's performance, although a few other people will order sushi tableside. By the time we left, there were still only two other people at the sushi bar.

After sushi, we decided to head for Mike's Place, Conway's first full-service restaurant ~ translated, that means it was the first restaurant given a liquor permit in a "dry" county.

So we headed for Mike's Place for an after-dinner drink and dessert, found a place to park and after a few minutes of holding up a wall, we got a small table near the bar.

As luck would have it, we shared air space with 3 young women (probably college students) who were over reacting to every joke ~ or non-joke ~ made by a young man who clearly was doing his best to impress at least one of the three, so our conversation was periodically interrupted by loud, high pitched, seemingly uncontrollable cackles from the girls and loud follow-up by the boy.

We finally stopped talking and listened. We couldn't help it. The girls would cackle loudly and wildly and Tom and I would just look at each other and one of us would say, "That wasn't really that funny."

It wasn't long before everyone around us would react similarly to the loud, high-pitched cackles ~ blank stares from every stool and booth. Even the servers walking by would nearly collide looking toward the noise.

As we were finishing up, the hostess came walking through holding menus against her chest. "Lloyd, party of 2, your table's ready. Lloyd, party of 2," she called out as she passed our table.

I couldn't resist. "Obnoxious, party of 4, Obnoxious, party of 4," I responded, pointing to the cacklers at the bar.

She didn't think I was funny.