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Showing posts from June, 2018

We reap what we sow

If it's okay to deny your business services to another based on your religious opinions and beliefs, why not based on ethical, even political, opinions and belief? Do I think it is okay? No. But then, nobody consulted me about it. However, if you sow hatred and judgement, don't expect to harvest kindness and compassion. My sign idea doesn't seem so bad now, does it, Sarah?

Strawberry Season

Strawberry season in Vermont, like all its season except winter, is short but but very sweet. This is an old recipe.  I was happy to come across it at just the right time. Strawberry Pie Clean and half about a quart of fresh strawberries . Have a single pie shell ready --a regular baked shell or a cookie crumb crust is good too, depending on your sweet tooth, Mix together in a cooking pan: 1 1/2 cup sugar* 1/4 cup cornstarch a 3 oz. package of strawberry jello 1 1/2 cup water Cook over medium high heat and stir constantly until the mixture turns from a milky red to a clear red. Allow the mixture to cool. Place halved strawberries into prepared pie shell.  Refrigerate to set before serving. * I think this is a ridiculous amount of sugar so I just use half,  3/4 cup, and no one has ever complained. It goes without saying that one piles real whipped cream on top to serve.

Summer

Happy Summer Solstice. My very last peony is taking her final bow.

Painting Class

I signed up for a painting class.  It's watercolor but with a kind of wild twist.  Just a tad -- okay,  a mile out of my comfort zone.  We are supposed to get loose. We painted a bunch of papers which will be ripped up to be made into a landscape collage. I made my different papers but all I could see in them was flower petals and leaves. I decided I would use this for a background.  I took another similar piece and a few practice paintings I had done and started ripping. Anyone see a vase of flowers made out of torn bits of painted paper?

Rainy Day

It was so dark all day.  Thick, grey clouds -- thunderheads -- sat sat in the sky just above my condo.  There were periods of intense downpour.  I managed to get a few errands done without getting soaked, but mostly it was a boring day spent indoors. When my daughter was in high school, she and a friend would play "boredom games." No one was around to play bored or board games with. I could have done some housework.  There is always a need for dusting.  Instead I wasted time looking at Pinterest and saw a reusable duster for a Swiffer© handle.  Since I had a piece of fleece in my stash of leftover fabric, I dragged out my sewing machine.  I made one for upstairs and one for downstairs.  All ready for when the maid shows up.

Birthday

google image Those of us born on June 14 can always claim that flags are put out in honor of our birthdays.  That's what my father told me as a kid.  God knows parents never lie to their children. My friend Don and I went to dinner at my son's on Wednesday night.  Kevin had prepared salmon cakes with a curry sauce,  potato salad, and fresh green beans with garlic.  Delicious.  I pretended it was a birthday treat in my head.  In truth, Kevin will call me sometime within the next month and ask, "Didn't you have a birthday somewhere around this time?" (If I was born on Christmas day, he wouldn't remember.  I accept that.) Plenty of other family and friends remembered.  I got plenty of messaged greetings, phone calls, and cards.  My sister is taking me for lunch today and my friend Ginnie and I will go out for brunch and shopping on Saturday. It's a big 0 birthday.  Frankly, a page I am not all that excited about turning (but better than not turning

Book Club

I read The Education of Dixie Dupree  by Donna Everhart.  I found it on the table next to my reading chair when I returned to Vermont.  I don't remember anyone loaning it to me and I don't remember buying it, but it was a brand new book. Dixie Dupree is an 11 year old girl growing up in Alabama, 1969.  She lives with her dad, mom, and older brother -- a family filled with secrets, lies, alcohol abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and a pretty good dose of mental illness.  It is not the kind of book I happily choose to read because of the violence and dysfunction.  However, Dixie is a study in resiliency. Resiliency is a topic that teachers and former teachers (anybody that works with people really) are familiar with.  You have to wonder where it comes from  -- they way some kids can find the strength come out of a dire situation while others get broken. There are good discussion/think about points included at the end of the book. The Kindle edition is on

IMHO

I have no need for a wedding cake at the present time.  If I did though, I know exactly where I would not go to order it. I think maybe there should be a label law for business and service providers.  Something along the lines of: This business serves only those who share in the religious and/or  political  beliefs  of the owner. That would be most helpful.  You believe what you want to believe and I will shop elsewhere in support of diversity and tolerance.  Simple enough?  I go back to the 1% patches worn by some members of outlaw biker clubs.  They indicate the wearer is part of the one percent of bikers who give all other motorcyclists a bad name.  You wear a badge that let's everyone else know you are a proud asshole (no offense) -- well, I think that is helpful.  Okay, I'll stay away from you. *** So a baker has the right to his convictions, but a football player who kneels for the Star Spangled Banner is a pariah.  After all,  honoring the sym

Spa Day

I tried something new at the yoga studio -- spa yoga.  This was a slow paced series of poses in a candle lit room with sprays of essential oils, some hands on assists and a bit of massage. Teacher knew her stuff, but I would have enjoyed this a whole lot more if she didn't have one of those breathy little voices that trails off before the completion of a sentence.  Young women seem quite fond of that style of speaking.  At times I wanted to scream, "You're a yoga teacher.  Use your breath to support your speech!"  She did work a know out of my neck though so I set aside the irritation in appreciation for that. And then I went with my friend Ginnie to her nail spa and we both had a mani-pedi.  I do not do this on a regular basis.  In fact the young lady who did my nails kind of yelled at me for cutting my toenails ". . .  too short and too crooked. I can't shape them the way I want. Don't do that again!"  I declined any polish, which also elicited