I'm Not Dead Yet!

The House of Lime is clearly fighting plagues of myriad forms as Mr. Lime works on hacking up a lung or two, Diana and I work to blow our sinuses inside out, and Calypso purges from the lower terminus of the alimentary canal.  It's a delightful cacophony of sounds produced by various orifices here...a veritable symphony of biohazards.

Tomorrow I hope to have something more interesting and less repulsive to post.

Whaddya Mean Pilgrims Didn't Eat Pineapple?

Ok, first off...Blogger is being totally pissy and not letting me upload photos.  If that changes before I have to go to work tomorrow I will add them to the post.  If not, we are out of luck visually.

It's been a while since I've done a recipe post.  I thought I had posted this one some time ago but a careful 10 second search of the archives revealed nothing so here goes.

Every family has some holiday food traditions.  Some make sense.  Some don't.  It doesn't matter.  If it makes your family happy then it's a good one.  One weird food tradition we have is baked pineapple served at the 3 major holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter.  The recipe originated with my great Aunt Virginia about 20 years ago.  When she died, my grandmother took over making it.  When Nana died, I took over making it.  When I croak someone else will have to take the job.

Now going back to Great Aunt Virginia and an interesting story, because what's a holiday without a weird family story to go with the weird food?  She was very elderly and bedridden.  Because her health was in massive, rapid decline she was moving from eastern Pennsylvania to western Ohio to be near her son.  My grandmother, mother, and I were working hard to pack up her belongings for her.  When I say working hard I'm not exaggerating.  She literally could have fully furnished 3 houses with all the furniture, kitchen wares, and tchotchkes she had.  It was astonishing the sheer volume of stuff she had amassed in her lifetime.  After it was sorted through she told me I should pick a few items from the things she was getting rid of that I'd like to have to remember her by.  I had admired a hand crocheted lace tablecloth and told her I was interested in that since she was offering.  She beamed saying she thought I should have it because my great grandmother had made it and would be smiling down from heaven knowing it stayed in the family.  I thanked her for the tablecloth and began folding it at which point GAV informed me it would cost me $40.  My jaw dropped, I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop from bursting out laughing, and I looked at my mother, then my grandmother to silently ask them if I had heard correctly.  They returned the shocked expression and my grandmother asked her sister-in-law to clarify.  GAV repeated my price for the "family heirloom" would be $40.  Ain't no polite way to back pedal off saying I was interested and I didn't want to argue with an inform old lady (which I'm pretty sure she was counting on anyway) so I ponied up.  It still makes me laugh every time I look at the thing. 

Anyway, back to the recipe...baked pineapple.  You're going to need the following:


Baked Pineapple

1 can crushed pineapple in juice, drained
3 eggs, beaten
3/4 C. sugar
1/2 C. butter, melted
5 slices of bread, crusts removed and cubed. (I like potato bread)

It's a very yellow list of ingredients, especially if you use potato bread.  Ok, now pay attention because this is the hard part.  It's really technical here.  You ready?  Ok...throw it all in a big bowl together and mix it up.  Once it's all stirred together it will look like it's something already partially eaten or digested or curdled at the very least.  Mmmmmm, sounds yummy, huh? 

Oh lighten up, Francis.  If you've ever read one of my recipes before you know I'm not exactly formal recipe person.  You want fancy shmancy and all measured and matchy matchy go talk to Martha Stewart.  This ain't fancy food, it's folksy food. But it's darned yummy.

I have another odd great aunt (really, there's no shortage of them in my family and I don't mean that as a slam because they keep things lively and interesting).  She is known for her tendency to complain and criticize.  A couple years ago she took a big glob of baked pineapple because it's her favorite part of the meal.  She took a bite and announced it was terrible and I had fouled it up completely.  It was another jaw dropping moment until she smiled and I realized it was her ploy to get everyone else to back off the stuff so she could have more of it to herself.

I digress again....you have a bowl of vomit looking stuff that you don't know what to do with yet.  Put it in a greased casserole and stick it in an oven preheated to 350F.  Bake it for 45 minutes or until it gets brown around the edges and seems set.

It's good stuff.  Feel free to set it on a table with a lace table cloth and wait for people to announce how awful it is....or just dig in an enjoy.  I haven't found anyone who doesn't like it yet. 

Da Big Count-Taking Stock

Time for a bit of reflection on many of the things I am thankful for since last year.

1. Just making it through the year's ups and downs and still standing.
2. Getting a new job in the office where I've been a patient after working in the office from hell first.
3. Terrific coworkers who function as a team.
4. Understanding bosses when my family has had crisis after crisis and I've missed work to sit in a hospital.
5. A mother who came to help.
6. A stepmother who shocked me beyond words with a very generous gift intended to help.
7. A dad, who in the past would have barely acknowledged the difficulties, but who gave words of support when they were needed.
8. Moments of great maturity displayed by my kids.
9. The times when they've included me or opened up to me.
10. The excellent choice in friends Diana has made at college...(service minded kids who take good care of each other and in an emergency make sure to put a mom's mind at ease)
11. Calypso's perseverance with regard to getting through her senior year well in spite of her health issues.
12. Isaac handling, with relative grace, the loss of his two favorite sporting seasons due to injuries requiring surgery.
13. Successful surgeries.
14. Generally having at least one functioning vehicle or managing to find the money to make one function when needed.
15. Not being seriously injured when I hit the deer.
16. Having part of another deer (from during archery season last month) in the freezer.
17. Enough wood pellets to keep the stove burning and the house warm.
18. Enough food to keep the bellies filled (even the adolescent male one, which seems like a bottomless pit).
19. Piles of books to keep my mind full.
20. Medicine when we need it.
21. Free care from my boss to keep my back working and to help Calypso regain some health.
22. The comfort of old friends.
23. The encouragement from present friends.
24. The hope of new friends.
25. That as challenging as things have been, I'm still standing and so is my family.

Tell me, what are some of the things you'll be giving thanks for this year?

Surfboards and a Recycle Bucket

This is the Hawaiian Shaka, also known as the hang loose sign.  The last number of months has been fairly trying (what with surgeries, chronic illness, and automotive woes) and I finally came to the point where I realized I ought to be riding the waves as each one rolled into my life rather than fighting them.  It made sense since I was powerless to hold them back.  Lifeguards will also tell you that when caught in certain dangerous currents a victim should just relax and float parallel to the shore rather than try to fight the current.  I was very much trying to put that into practice.  I realized waiting for life to return to normal, whatever that is, before I could regain some calm was not going to serve me very well.  I'd just drive myself nuts. I was just going to hang loose and take the waves as they came, just ride them into shore.  I hasten to add, this is an aspiration more than a statement of having attained such a level of peace and dwelling therein.

Well, as you know, last week was another especially trying one.  The weekend was riven with adolescent strife following closely on the heels of the midnight ER call and the collision with a deer and all the attendant lack of sleep....oh, and then there was even more automotive fun I won't even bother telling you about and the joy of opening a medical claim with my car insurance.  I just was in no mood for cranky, demanding, entitled teenage drama.  It pushed me over the edge.  I was done with riding the waves.  I embraced my Greek side and decided the most therapeutic activity would be to empty the recycle bucket of all glass and dash it on the floor of the garage.  It felt good.  I had reconciled myself to the cleanup before I began the demolition.  That had its own restorative zen aspect.  If you don't have a surfboard I'd highly recommend a bucket of glass jars, a cement floor, and a broom when life just won't let up.

Oh come on, already....

I hit a deer on the way home from work tonight. Gracie the Bondo Queen limped home after impact, which is better than the doe did I'm sure.  Leon died in the driveway earlier this week.  I think he just needs a starter but who the hell knows anymore.

I'm icing my neck then going to bed.  I may stay there for a day or four.  I'm tired.  My adrenals have had a bit a of a workout this week. 

Chapter 47 in the Ongoing Medical Drama That is My Life

In the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday I was awakened by a phone call that began with the words, "Mrs. Lime, this is Diana's friend.  She is having a really bad asthma attack and just used her inhaler which made things worse.  She thinks she is having an allergic reaction to the drug.  What should I do?"  Calls about flat tires on the New Jersey turnpike at midnight didn't cause my adrenal glands to fire nearly so powerfully and efficiently as that particular call did.  In a nanosecond I was fully awake.  I spoke to Diana very briefly and heard her labored breathing and that she could barely get enough air to gasp out a yes or no in response to my questions.  "Get her to the hospital immediately.  Take her phone.  Call me." 

May I just say Diana has some remarkably level headed friends who really impressed me with their care for her and their clear thinking.  Diana fought being moved so her friend called in some guy pals who literally picked her up and deposited her in the car.  They all went to the ER with her and stayed until she was released.  They called me with periodic updates and proactively made sure I had alternate phone numbers because they were afraid Diana's phone battery was going to conk out.  The girl who called me had the forethought to gather insurance information.  When Diana was released they took her back to the dorms and made sure she wasn't alone.  God bless each one of these kids because they were the most faithful of friends when Diana was in dire need and they did what I couldn't do for her since she is away at school.  So a few days early and I am doing Da Count now because these kids are about as count-worthy as they come in my book.

As you can imagine I got very little sleep last night and now that the crisis is over and the adrenaline has faded after a day at work I'm about ready to crash.  I got through the night and the day.  I give sincere thanks for Diana's well being and her excellent friends.  I plan to go to sleep as soon as I hit "publish."  All I ask is for some laughs in names for the serial soap opera/medical drama I seem to be in for the last 6 months.  I dunno...how does The Guiding Lime or House (of Lime) MD sound? 

Report Card for Teachers

It's that time of year when kids run to the mailbox to grab the mail before Mom & Dad so they can hide bad grades or when the good students come looking for a pat on the head.  I'd rather turn the tables and milk it for a blog post.  Calypso has had a rough school year since she is still not attending for full days due to her health problems so we've had to be in fairly regular contact with most of her teachers.  Isaac is doing well in all but one class.

First  Calypso's teachers:

Mr. S. (Creative Writing):  I'm glad you have known Calypso since she was 3 otherwise I realize you might not be able to pick her out of a police lineup since she misses your class so much.  Thanks for being incredibly understanding and flexible.  I actually wish she could make it to your class more often because I know she'd get a lot out of it. B+

Mrs. U. (Ecology): You were a complete pain in our rectal environment at the beginning of the year.  Recently, there's been a climate change for which we are grateful.  Thanks, we appreciate it a lot.  Hopefully we can continue to cultivate positive growth the rest of the year.  Congrats on bringing your D- up to a C+.

Miss Z (Trigonometry):  Excuse me while I try to stop the tics bordering on seizure activity after typing the name of your class.  It kicked in my PTSD from my own year studying it.  Calypso WANTED to be in your class.  It mystifies me how two very non-mathematical parents can produce a mutation causing one of our offspring to enjoy it but good for her!  Really good for her that you are her teacher.  It's hard to miss such a difficult course so frequently and grasp the concepts.  Heck, I'd have given up long ago.  Forget that...I would have avoided the class entirely!  Anyway, you've been awesome in spending time after school to help my kid catch up and in being super flexible about due dates and test times.  You've done a great job of keeping me in the loop.  Calypso also tells  me that you explain things extremely well.  You rock!  A+

Mrs. R. (English Comp):  It's unfortunate that neither you nor Calypso are at the top of your game this year.  It's no one's fault.  It's just how it is.  Try to go easy on each other, ok?  Thank for making sure you communicate with me though.  I appreciate that. B.

Mr P. (Senior Social Science):  Sigh...you and Calypso know each other from last year.  I guess that's a good thing.  She at least knows what to expect with you and given the number of surprises she's had in the last 6 months that's a help.  B-

Mr. S. (Psychology): Dude, how hard is it to answer a freaking email?  Nothing all marking period.  I had to take time off work just to come find out what's going on. I'm less than happy about that.  Even after meeting you I'm not sure what's going on but Calypso seems to have a respectable grade and you don't seem concerned about anything so I won't worry....but ya know, an email could have told me all that and not cost me part of my paycheck.  Courtesy, man.  However, thanks for being easy going about Calypso's lack of attendance. C+.

On to Isaac's teachers:


Mrs. M. (German): Can I tell you how happy I am that I finally have a kid who enjoys foreign language study and does well in it AND has a teacher who is competent?  Can I also tell you how hilarious I think it is that you are such a bouncy morning person and my non-morning son has you first period?  If I myself were awake enough I'd like to be a fly on the wall.  He does enjoy your class and I hear him speaking German for fun.  A+

Mrs. W. (Science): It cannot be easy to command the attention and respect of your junior high age students when you are barely 5 feet tall and look like you are 15 years old yourself.  You seem very organized and able to communicate clearly and professionally.  Hats off to you!  A

Mr Z. (Invertebrate Biology): Dissections and horrible stories about parasites.  Do you know how much my kid loves your class?  Do you know how much he loves to tell me the horrible stories until I stick my fingers in my ears and repeatedly shout, "I can't hear you?"  Do you know how excited he is to have you the second semester for Marine Biology?  In spite of how disgusting it is to hear about flatworms and "willie fish" (horrible creatures that follow a urine stream up into a man's penis before chewing out his urethra...and my apologies to the gentlemen readers) you are feeding this boy's lifelong love of all things zoological and it makes me very happy.  You are challenging his mind on a subject he adores and making him love it even more.  A+

Ms. R (US History): Oh honey, you're sweet, professional, and lovely with an endearing touch of gawky.  You're not brand new to teaching but still maybe just an eensy bit naive.  Psst....the kids are really good at manipulating.  By the same token, thanks for not being a hard ass about a kid who can't take notes due to a broken thumb and for being accessible to parents.  B+

Ms. C (American Lit): I specifically waived Isaac into your honor's class because I knew he was up to the task and because I know you are going to work him hard.  He's not liking it now, but I know he will later on.  You are tough but you are fair.  Isaac calls you "Crazy Pants."  I know you'd laugh and wear that moniker as a badge of honor.  I do worry a little bit about you though because you're at the school so late all the time.  I'm assigning you some recess time away from school because you deserve it.  A+

Mr. W (Algebra):  Dude, you're a putz.  How do you say a kid has earned a D+ and yet give the comment on the report card stating "Satisfactory work to date?"  If the kid did not have a lot of natural math ability (see also, Isaac's parents) and worked his butt off to scrape that D together I could see it.  My  kid is an A student so, to use a math term, are you noticing the incongruity here?  Likewise you tell me he tends to grasp the concepts but that if he is unsure of something he pursues you to ask for clarification....and yet you hustle him off.  By your own report, he's taking responsibility and trying to improve yet you blow him off.  You're a putz.  D- (Unsatisfactory work to date....notice the congruity?)

Mr. G (Tech Ed. aka Shop Class):  You're a sexist putz.  When my husband and I came to speak with you, you couldn't even make eye contact with me or acknowledge my presence.  Yes, my husband teaches the same subject as you so I expect some bonding between you two over power tools but not to the exclusion of  basic courtesy. FYI, I know the difference between a rip saw and a cross cut saw, allen wrenches and crescent wrenches, claw hammers and ball peen hammers, dado joints and dovetails.  Drill presses, reciprocating saws, compound miter saws...yeah, I can use them all.  I know what countersinking a screw is all about (and it doesn't involve some pig lifting my apron so he can grope me while I do dishes). When Mr. Lime started teaching Tech Ed. he was having trouble with the more advanced mechanical drawings (we're only talking an 8th grade curriculum here not anything really wild).  Guess who took the text book and the drafting tools and figured it out and taught the new tech ed teacher how to draw them.  That's right, it was ME, the female not worthy of your time.  So don't act surprised when I thrust my hand out before leaving so I can finally introduce myself with a firm handshake (not letting go until you make actual eye contact) rather than some dainty limp fish excuse for a greeting.  Maybe it doesn't seem like that has anything to do with teaching my son but I worry about any girls you might have in your class and the attitudes you impart to all your students.  I'll be charitable and give you a C- because I'm going to assume you at least know your subject matter.

Stream of Unconsciousness

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I have realized that any time use of a public restroom necessitates obtaining a key from a manager it's most likely because they are afraid someone will sneak in and clean the bathroom.  This is a given with regard to gas station type facilities but when in a groovy little boutique in a downtown shopping district it seems one ought to be able to reasonably expect a low likelihood of contracting hepatitis when one is emptying one's bladder.

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Expectations are premeditated resentments...or so I'm told.  Someone ought to put that on a button or something.

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I bought two buttons this weekend.  One merely had a picture of geek glasses on them.  I got it for Calypso (because she begged me for glasses like these) and snuck it onto the lapel of her coat.  I'm still waiting for her to discover it.  The other button was for me.  It reads, "Moderation (and plausible deniability) in everything."

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They are now making Chocolate Cheerios.  In spite of my ever so slight addiction to the fruit of Theobroma cacao, I find this disturbing.  Cheerios were one of the few cereals my mother allowed us to eat as children because it was healthy.  Cheerios are a cereal you can purchase with food stamps and WIC vouchers because it is healthy.  I can live with all the other flavors of Cheerios they've come out with but chocolate ones are just wrong.  If I'm going to have chocolate cereal let's not pretend it's something healthy.  Just go for the most horrid stuff you can find.  Cocoa Puffs.  Count Chocula.  Cocoa Pebbles.  Cookie Crisp even.  Seriously.  Little chocolate chip cookie shaped cereal nuggets don't even pretend to aspire to being healthy.  They just say, "Hey, you like to dunk your cookies in milk, right?  What better way to start your day than saving you the trouble of dunking them.  Just let them swim and shovel them in your face!"   Cheerios, please don't pretend to be something you're not.

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Likewise, oatmeal cookies with raisins in them?  Cookies should have no nutritionally redeeming qualities.  All that fiber and fruit is just a little too close to being healthy to be allowed to be a cookie.

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I've lived in my current house for 7 years.  Until this Friday all I had on my walls, in the entire house, were 2 deer heads (because Diana and Mr. Lime claimed the wall space), a wreath, a very groovy 3D metal sculpture, and a painting my grandfather did.  This has been something which has annoyed Mr. Lime greatly for at least 3 years.  This weekend I put things on 3 more walls.  He said when he came home he thought he was drunk and wandered into the wrong house because our walls have been bare so long (I contend they are not  bare...refer to the above list).  He seems to be functioning under the misguided assumption that snark will motivate me.  I will do more but it's due to momentum.  Part of me wants to snidely inform him that such comments will cost him another 7 years before I tackle the next 3 walls because really, this is not a thing to be rushed. 

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I used to think November was  not a very aesthetically pleasing month.  Everything is just brown and dying.  the beautiful leaves have fallen.  there is no snow yet to make everything glistening white.  In the last few years though I noticed the slanting golden light and the way it hits the frost covered grass in the morning or yellow stalks of dried plants.  It has it's own sort of beauty...something akin to watching someone sleep and seeing how peaceful they look

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This made me laugh.  I want one.

.

Friday 55-The Sweater

 *image from http://www.clevernesting.com/2009/09/knitting-with-an-old-sweater-tutorial/



FRIDAY 55

Cleaning out the closet

I find the sweater
I wore for our first date.

I hoped you'd like

the way it hugged my curves.

 Your hand
in the small of my back,

reassured me.

Time faded and stretched the sweater

and me.

I fold the sweater again,

not ready to part with it

or you.

Remembering the Veterans

My great-great grandfather, a Union Army veteran.

My paternal grandfather who enlisted during WW2, even though he had a wife and 2 sons. My dad is the smaller child.

My maternal grandfather who was drafted for WW2, even though he had a wife and 2 children. He was awarded the Purple Heart for wounds sustained during the Battle of the Bulge.

Dad, who enlisted in the Air Force during Vietnam, hoping to have some shred of control over his placement instead of being drafted.

I found this among my grandfather's things and it amused me, so I thought I'd share it especially for the women.

To all the men and women who have served our nation, thank you.  Happy Veterans Day.

Memes Ablaze

Empress Lime and Queen Mimi are allied yet again...

 

 

Welcome to the Queen's Meme #59

It's on fire!

And in the words of Steven Wright.. "I used to work in a fire hydrant factory. You couldn't park anywhere near the place." 

I guess not! Answer these simply seething questions on the subject of fire.
It could be quite revealing. If it gets too hot far ya, just Stop Drop and Roll. We'll wait.

The Fire Meme

1. You are stranded on a desert island.  There is only one match left in the matchbox.
What would you use it for?
Sorry, what was the question?  I'm having weird flashbacks to watching my grandfather clean out his ears with wooden matchsticks.


2. Do you burn bridges in relationships?
Is this some sort of new activity done at pyromaniac encounter groups and marriage seminars?


3.  Name one thing you'd like to set on fire today.
Come on, baby, light my fire.

4. Have you ever burned a cupcake?
No, it was too hard to light.  Besides, I prefer eating them to setting them on fire.


5. If you had your choice and could change nature's ways, instead of smoke and lava, what should spew out of volcanoes?
Hot fudge, of course.


6.  When is the last time you used a Fire Extinguisher?
When I had to put out a bacon grease fire.  May I just say the dispersal pattern caused by a dry chemical extinguisher used on a bacon grease fire in a small galley kitchen is really quite fascinating and the clean-up afterward...just delightful beyond description.


7. Have you ever known anyone with a fiery uncontrollable temper? How did you handle it?
Too many.  I generally rely on superior fire power like a hip check, a guffaw, or semi automatic weapons.


8. You are with your significant other. What song are you singing around the campfire?
Inna-gadda-davida, extended version


9.  What is the one thing you'd gladly leave IN your house in case of fire.
The ghastly carpets


10. When is the last time you got fiery fighting mad?
What the @#$%^!!!!  You $@!#%*!!!!  Why I oughta......


11. Do you believe in hell?
Yes, I used to work there before I found my current job.



12. Do you or have you ever smoked?
I don't smoke, I smolder.

Discovering Charlie

My grandmother Charlotte (aka Mom-mom) was born in New Jersey in 1912 to a strict, perfectionist Pennsylvania German mother.  Things had to be just so and if they weren't it was expected the situation would be remedied immediately, if not sooner.  Mom-mom told me how she tried to learn to knit or crochet as a girl.  Her patient, more forgiving grandmother was teaching her.  As beginners are wont to do, she made a mistake.  Grandmother was not worried about it and praised the novice.  Young Charlotte presented the nearly finished item to her mother, who noticed the small error early in the pattern.  She directed Charlotte to unravel it and fix it. The girl opted to put it down in anger and disgust and walk away from it never to try again.






 
Mom-mom's father was an Irish immigrant.  She was the apple of his eye and she adored him, as is common with daddies and their little girls.  She was proud of having a Daddy who worked on the railroad.  She never quite forgave her brother for being such a mischief maker that her father had to leave his job and move the family to Pennsylvania to take him away from trouble, which soon found him again in spite of the move.  She knew her father carried real sadness over his son and over loosing his own Catholic family who disowned him when he married a Protestant.

People who knew Mom-mom well knew she was every bit a blend of her Pennsylvania German mother and her Irish father.  She was proper and precise and expected the same from others though she wasn't harsh about it.  She was adoring of her children and grandchildren.  She was absolutely settled in her opinions.  Heaven help you though if you incurred her wrath.  She didn't anger quickly but once the fuse was lit it was best to duck and cover.  This picture seems to reveal a somewhat playfully defiant manner in the unladylike sitting position, which surely was never captured on film before or after.  Sometimes I didn't quite know what to make of my grandmother.  I knew I was loved but the formality was hard for me to interpret when I was a child.

Mom-mom had a low level of tolerance for being called Charlotte by anyone except her age peers.  She expected to be addressed as Mrs. R. by everyone outside the family, no matter their station.  She had one friend who I always found slightly scandalous when she'd clap my grandmother on the back on Sunday mornings after church as she loudly inquired, "How are ya today, Charlie?  Boy, doesn't that granddaughter of yours look like you!"  I was shocked that Mom-mom seemed welcoming of such informality.  As a kid, I also thought it was strange this woman would draw any notion of a family resemblance since I was adopted.  Besides, Mom-mom had short white hair since before I was born whereas mine was long and dark.  She graduated high school in 1930.  Just before I went away to college she pulled out her old photo albums and yearbook to show me.  Under her picture it reads, "Silence is golden, so they say; our studious Charlie is that way."  I suddenly understood the patience for the nickname.  In the class prophecies it was predicted that she "being a man-hater gives her life to aiding the poor and disabled children."  I gasped, "Mom-mom you wanted to be a special education teacher?"  (My major would be special education.) She nodded with that silent Mona Lisa smile and I let the warmth of new understanding settle in my heart.

Seriously?!

Mr. Lime and I drive cars that are held together with bubble gum, coat hangers, and prayer.  When it became apparent that Diana was going to need a vehicle for commuting a significant distance on a regular basis we found a nice, well-maintained 2003 Jetta because we did not relish the thought of her being stranded somewhere along the highway with one of our dying cars.  The girl has the nicest car in the family.  Even though hers is in the best condition I put her on our AAA PLUS plan.  I have the plus plan because, as mentioned, Mr. Lime and I drive jalopies.  I didn't figure Diana would have much need of AAA but she's inexperienced and it was cheap enough to add her.

In the last 2 1/2 weeks she has used it THREE times.  Yes, I said three.

First we were jangled into consciousness one Sunday night/Monday morning by a series of hysterical phone calls spanning the hours of midnight to 2AM because Diana had gotten a flat tire on the New Jersey Turnpike.   Once upon a time I was a mother of infants and young children.  At that time my nervous system was wired to go from zero to 60 in under .001 of a second at the sound of a whimper coming through the baby monitor on the nightstand.  All these years later my responses have slowed considerably.  The first phone call was seriously disorienting and having served my time as a breastfeeding mother all those years ago, I handed the phone to Mr. Lime.  He talked her through what to do.  Since she had AAA PLUS she opted to have the tow truck schlep her car from New Jersey all the way back to central PA...apparently it came in just under the 100 mile limit or whatever it was.

The second use of services was necessitated this past Tuesday when she had her second flat tire on the twisting, hilly, no shoulder road close to our house.  Since there was no safe place to pull off she opted to continue driving until she got to where the road forked and there was space.  She called me during the busiest hour at my office.  She had left her wallet at home so her license and AAA card were there.  I was less than pleased by that entirely avoidable aspect to the problem.   Nonetheless, I found a friend who could retrieve the card for her.  She had the tire changed and went to repair it and was told the tire was shredded beyond repair.  Ultimately the decision was made to just replace all four tires since the ones on the car were fairly new but not very good quality.  Two flats in just over a week seemed to indicate more were on the way so I shelled out the moolah to simply replace all the tires even though it means repairs my car needs are going to wait.  She was horrified by the total for the bill and said I should consider the tires her birthday and Christmas gifts this year.  She also declared that cars suck because they are so expensive to fix.  Whatever, given that the accident I had a year and a half ago was largely due to poorly worn tires I'd rather pay for tires than medical bills.

Cut to Saturday evening and the next automotive event.  "Mom, I blew out a tire when I backed over a curb."  I am breathing slowly and deliberately.  I am counting to ten.  I am frustrated.  I am face palming as I tell her to call AAA and deal with it.  She ought to know the drill by now...though I am considering taking the "nice" car and giving her one of the jalopies since we seem to have better luck with them.

Friday 55 & Da Count-All Joking Aside

FRIDAY 55

Where do you find a friend

to be yourself with,

slurping chocolate from a creamer

or flinging open the door of your fridge?

Where do you find one 

to sit on the couch with

talking for hours?

Perhaps 

in hospital visits,

meals shared,

and while unpacking original art,

which reveals

a thoughtful and creative soul.

DA COUNT

Seven years ago my closest friend moved away.  When I say closest I mean both emotionally and geographically.  She was getting married and her husband whisked her off to the exotic state of New Jersey.  We still see each other and still maintain a cherished friendship but the geographical distance kind of stinks.  It's just not the same as having her down the street and being able to drop in on each other any time on a whim.  I had two other close friend with whom I felt comfortable in a similar way.  They "got me" me and we had a very go with the flow way of relating.  They both moved even farther away in the year before my closest friend left.  Once they were all gone I felt very adrift.  Then we moved.  Then my back gave out completely on me and I was rather isolated by my inability to physically get around.  Not long after I got that stabilized I decided falling off a zipline and demolishing my left arm and hand would be an awesome idea.  I wasn't allowed to drive for months.  There is no reliable public transportation in this area.  More isolation.

The area where I live has a lot of folks who commute all the way into NYC.  As such, when they get home, most of them are too tired or too busy with kid-related activity to have time to socialize.  Spontaneity is way out.  I'm just not a day planner kind of gal.  Telling me you can get together 3 weeks from next Tuesday just isn't my thing.  I can accept that's how you need to roll and I can work that way, but it's not going to feed my soul if that's the only way you can function.  I'm also not a person who wants to spend hours angsting over the condition of the house before I have you over.  The point is the interaction, right?  It's not whether or not my house could be on the cover of Better Homes & Gardens.  If we just pop in on each other expectations are lower and the focus is on people.

Quite honestly, a lot of women get on my last nerve too and I know the feeling is often mutual.  If you can't discuss something deeper than clothes, interior design, or the latest gossip I get bored pretty quickly.  You've got to be able to tickle my brain with some depth of thought or a wicked sense of humor or show me your creative side or your intelligence expressed in independent thought.  That doesn't mean I can't get along with you or even like you.  I can.  You're just not going to get to the recesses of my heart without going through my brain first.

All this doesn't sound like I'm counting the good stuff does it?  Well, I'm getting there.  I just needed to set the scene, which is to say, in the last seven years I've felt a little lonely for having a good girlfriend who is accessible.  In the past I seem to have found them either among people who are introduced to me when they are in a very bad place in their lives, or who are willing to take some risk in being somewhat absurd.  Enter the new youth pastor's wife, who reached out to me when things were out of control with my kids having surgeries and being hospitalized, who rushed into my house to raid my fridge as a joke, who encourages my chocolate addiction, and who has revealed herself as a very independent thinker in spite of living a fish bowl existence that comes with a high degree of expectations.  I like her...a lot.  I'm counting the time we had to connect this week and how good it felt.  I'd almost forgotten what that was like.

~Make new friends but keep the old.  One is silver, the other is gold.~

Slice of Lime-Speaking of Strange Hospitality and Addictions...

You may recall the post about my particularly odd brand of hospitality toward our new youth pastor and his wife.  You know, it's the type where they barge into my kitchen and fling open the fridge door to see what I have, then I let them frolic through the mess in my house, only to send them home with potatoes later.  Well, as I mentioned earlier in the week, we went to visit them.  First I went by myself to help the wife hang pictures.  The irony in this is we have lived in our house for seven years and I have yet to hang pictures in my own house.  Don't ask why, just accept it.  Later my whole family came over so we could enjoy dinner together.  We had a lovely time.  For dessert there was angel food cake, because it's Mr. Lime's favorite, with homemade hot fudge sauce (did she know that was MY favorite?).

After dinner she also brought out her camera because I'd been talking about what I was looking for and my frustration at not being able to find a functioning one to try out in a store.  She happens to own a model I have been considering so she offered to let me play with it.  She also took a few pictures to demonstrate its capabilities...just about the time she also pushed the creamer full of leftover hot fudge in my direction and told me to finish it off.  Presence of a camera or not, I'd never refuse such an offer.

Bottoms up!

Hhhmm...there still appears to be some left in the bottom and on the sides...

Not a problem...

If only my tongue were a little longer...

Ok, I guess I'll just lick the stuff off the outside.

Raiding each other's fridges, frolicking through respective messes, hanging pictures, playing with cameras, and licking hot fudge out of  a creamer...You know, this may be the start of a beautiful relationship.

Lady Killer

Friday evening Isaac wanted to know if we wanted to hear his mating call.  Before anyone could respond he cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a long, shrill how.  When he stopped he asked what we thought.  I told him it sounded like the Emergency Broadcast System tone and suggested he work on a less grating mating call if he hoped to attract anything other than a banshee....or perhaps an EMT.

The same night we were getting ready to have dinner at a friend's.  Calypso moaned that it meant she had to change out of sweats and actually put on a bra.  Isaac's retort was, "The males in their house are 7 and 38, both are out of your range.  It's safe to go as you are."

Saturday I had fully indulged my slothful side by sleeping late and padding around the house in slippers and a robe well past noon.  I announced I was going to take a shower.  Isaac replied, "I prefer to ferment in my own natural juices."

My boy is ever the charmer....

I'm Lime and I Approved This Post

My fellow Americans (apologies to readers from other countries, both for this US-centric post and any negative effects our policies have on you), it's election day.  Are you sick of the Republicrats and Demopublicans and all their jockeying for position?  Are you ready to throw out the incumbents and usher in the next wave of do nothings?  Are you sensing my utter cynicism with the process?  Good!  You must be very astute!

Well, cynic or not I'm going to vote and I urge you to do the same.  Is it because I think there is a snowball's chance in hell that it will matter or count for meaningful change?  Nope.  Is it because I think there are some fantastic candidates out there who are people of integrity and who want to make a difference?  Nope (though I will allow that perhaps there is some viable candidate somewhere who may be).  Then why?

I plan to vote because it's my right and my responsibility.  There are people all over this planet who will never have the opportunity and I need to realize that I am very fortunate indeed to be able to have the chance.  That's the upstanding, idealist, patriotic argument.  Though I do buy it I am also so completely disgusted by the partisan crap, fear-mongering, and inflammatory speech masquerading as debate that I can't find a single viable candidate who I think amounts to more than a bucket of spit.  In fact, given a choice between most of them and a bucket of spit I might go for the salivary output. 

The the question remains.  Why am I voting?  I am voting because it's my duty and if I don't then I give up my right to complain about the job they do until the next election.  At the very least I need that right!

Ok, two ranting posts in a row (though I hope you realize I'm really not such a curmudgeon).  Tomorrow I promise a non-ranting post.