Oracle cards, 1st try, and 1st entry in my special book.
First I tried to shuffle, then I mixed them quite a bit on the bed. The results surprised me.
I forgot to take pics if the cards, and had randomly shoved into deck, so I ended up putting them in numeric order (60). Doing this, i noticed several sequences that were in order, not mixed, as well as some sets of 2-3 cards still stuck together.
That makes the randomness of the draw, in that none are in sequence, even more interesting.
Am I the only one who can barely get herself to mark in a new fancy journal? Being the last student to “graduate” to ink pen in grade school may have affected me. LOL
FWIW, I was surprised, out of 60 cards, the first two were definitely woo-woo on target. Card 3, I think I’m calm, GENERALLY…and card 4, yes meditation makes one calm…If one can stay awake while doing it.
Cherie gave me some awesome, fancy oracle cards for Mother’s Day. As I was mixing them on the bedspread for the first time, I got a memory flash.
Skip the “me” background. It was Peggy Snethen’s birtday party. Her mother was our Bluebirds leader at the time. Mom procured a gift to take. In the Snethens’ driveway, Mom announced, “Oh, dear, I hope this gift won’t upset anybody.”
???
“Well, I’m a little nervous, if they’re religious…maybe they won’t appreciate us sending this gift. But it’s just a game.”
?!?
“Don’t worry, just give it to her. I’m sure it will be fine.”
!!!
It was a set of I-Ching sticks. It being a fantasy game, all the girls were instantly enthralled, and it was the hit of the party! Not only was I included, I felt a bit special that day!
Glorious twist of fate, Mrs. Snethen did not complain or comment, at least not to my knowledge. This may have been because each time we tried to figure out the meanings of hexagrams of the thrown sticks, we could not decipher such abstract things at our young ages. After a few attempts, and about 8 wrinkled noses, life went on unpredicted.
Walking into the bathroom at the studio after I came back from lunch, I realized the presence-timed lights were on, so I knew it was possible someone was in the handicapped stall, which does not hang open when not ocupado.
In the bathroom acoustics, I suddenly realized how much noise I was making when I walk. Or Move. Because of being locked out twice recently, I am armed to the teeth with keys. I failed the lanyard test, so on a springy bracelet reminiscent of the old phone cords, I have the two studio keys and a small red carabiner, so that I can attach it to my purse for easy finding, or what not. There is the same setup over the gearshift of the unlocked Mini Cooper.
Additionally, I have a carabiner on the strap of my purse which is carabining another carabiner with my car key and newly copied house key, and another small carabiner with my regular copy of my house key and a metal dream catcher keychain—resin starfish, no impact. Carabiner freak!
Mm-kay, I was making a LOT of jingling. And I have heavy footfalls, as well. I hurtle myself. And this is after being requested not to whistle in the studio when the guy I have never seen again (thank God) is in his square, next to mine.
My mind snapped back to say, 1960, when Mom and Dad were in a couples card club. Man, are there funny stories to tell about those card clubs—of course, we got to witness these mainly only by peeping, creeping, and spying.
One night, Mom and Dad came home from bridge club, and Dad was sputtering. Dad had sensitivities, mind you — he could get bugged. And bugged he was!
“That damn Farla,” (name changed, J.I.C.), “I was about to throttle her!”
“Now, Jack.”
Eyes blazing.
“What exactly was it that she did?”
Dad begins to exaggeratedly wave his hands, wrists, and even arms. “Jesus, I couldn’t hear myself think!”
“Oh, well, yes…but she’s not doing it to bother you.”
“Well, it DOES bother me! And she knows it! I think it’s a strategy.”
I’m not normally a huge fan of dark humor, definitely not a horror fan. I wasn’t sure what to expect with this movie, and actually I never liked Colin Farrell that much.
Anyway, my husband and I decided to give it a try several days back. Immediately, I was captured by the amazing scenery and quaint Irish countryside. Nearly just as fast, I bought the characters, hook, line, and sinker, due to great acting! By everyone!
I was fascinated, and then I got to the first finger part. Husband had apparently been out like a light since basically the beginning, so I shut it off. But the film haunted me.
Two nights later, he agreed to try it again. So back to square 1. I was quite into the show the first time, but second time throughout the first half, I was absolutely cracking up at the witty dialog! I was laughing so hard, I kept checking to see if he thought I was nuts. Ah, wait, he was asleep again.
So determined to finish the show solo, I continued watching. I was really hoping it would turn less bleak. WTF with that old codger, dude you are NOT Mozart, to whom you like to bring up regarding the need of legacy. Oh, come ON, I kept saying.
After the first finger, the show is no longer funny. I hid my eyes, knowing something horrendous was coming. When the donkey down scene happened, I simply could not stand it, and I shut if off and shouted at the remote, “I HATE this movie.”
And yet, I can’t get past it. And, yes, now I sorta I want a donkey, but luckily they are not allowed as pets here.
My opinion has changed about Collin Farrell. He’s amazing! And I love Kerry Condon, she’s fantastic, too!
On the movie review page, I gave it ****. It’s hard to recommend; it’s hard to forget.
Overnight, I found myself wandering back into childhood memories. I was musing about being the baby of the family, and how it is different.
Actually, now I remember, I was thinking how my sister, Tam, is such a natural leader. I was thinking it makes sense that I am a natural follower (or more so aloner). It also makes sense why I often felt defeated or less-good…my direct compare was 2.5 yrs older. Still, it felt lame. (Tam, not your fault! Natural.)
Anyway, that melted into me thinking about my early life, during the school year. Brother Jack and Tam had to get ready for school, I got to be in my jammies. After they and Dad left, I had Mommy! But yes we had a serious mommy, so this was not playtime for her! However, I do remember her being so sweet to me, even though I was constantly at her side, questioning, tugging on her peddle-pushers, interrupting her work.
After awhile, she would launch me off to an activity. (“Why don’t you try coloring for awhile? I really need to get things done.”) Also, the waiting would begin for my siblings to return for LUNCH! Yes, lunch! That wonderful break in my non-active day, wherein the debate over lunchtime Paladin (as we called “Have Gun Will Travel”) or something Tam would rather watch. I’m not sure what that was, because though I wanted gender solidarity, I loved Paladin and skewed the vote.
After lunch would be nap, at least the years. Once I got old enough to refuse (fairly early), Mom would begin her afternoon work. I very often ended up in the book closet–the lower half of the linen closet between our kids’ rooms. Mentally, I can take myself back to that “punkin pie” linoleum, many Golden Books, as well as other G rated options, spread out all around the me in a semi-circle. The Golden Books, I did read. Soooo many favorites there. But even more so with the other books, and even Goldens, I studied and studied the pictures. I can easily recall so many of them even now.
I know I have discussed my love of “The Norwegian Twins” book, which was not short nor heavily illustrated, but that one I did read in, because…TWINS!!! So cute, a boy and girl.
Another favorite non-Golden was “The Princess and the Pirate”! I read in that, too! It was actually a romance. This Princess somehow meets a Pirate, and they start trying to meet again, passing notes via a loose brick!!! I told Mom once I loved that book, and when I told her what it was about, she said, “Oh. I probably shouldn’t have that one in there. I didn’t know what it was about.” Seeing my face, she said, “Oh, well, too late now. It can’t be that bad.” “The Princess and the Pirate” stock went up 2 points.
Maybe that was not the name of the book. When I tried to find it on the internet, I see that was a movie title from 1944 starring Bob Hope. I also tried “The Lady and the Pirate”. Oh, well. On the cover was the pirate, in breeches that stopped mid-calf. His calves were curved (i.e. not like table legs)! Fascinating!
So…this post was supposed to be about a cookie jar.
After napping in front of the book cupboard (at the end of every session), I would wake hungry. Mom would be out of the kitchen, and I’d go for that old cookie jar. It must have broken eventually, or Mom threw it away. She always said it was not a very pretty one.
Overnight last night, I was sure I remembered the jar exactly. Butter colored, blue knob, chef that looked very much like Poppin’ Fresh (to me now), and the word COOKIES rising left to right in blue balloony letters. Tried, but couldn’t remember what was on the other sides. Hexagon shaped. Seemed large.
I decided to try to draw it. Before I began, I thought I’d google some examples to help with proportions, etc. Now, usually, when I try to find something obscure from my memory, I come up with something like happened with “The P & the P” book, so I wasn’t expecting much.
I googled “1950s pale yellow cookie jar with chef”. Check out the results!
AND, smart or dumb, I actually bought this one! The shipping stung a little, but it’s such a touchstone to my heart. 6″ wide, in my mind it was about twice that big.
This is a pretty negative review. Usually, I am not like this, but…Here is my review they requested as follow-up to a dispute resolution.
My latest dispute process dragged on way too long (almost 3 months). It is not possible to easily message with the PayPal team to find out what is happening or to point anything out. Each time I have had a dispute, I have provided multiple documents, including receipts, emails, and photographic evidence. Always, the claims were decided on the side of the seller, completely unreasonably nor sensibly, as if they never read the attachments nor the correspondence! Then I had to go through the several steps of finding out how to actually call in, the voice response secretary is super annoying, holding on the line, and in the end, I win, because I WAS OBVIOUSLY RIGHT IN THE FIRST PLACE! A blind man could see it.
My complaint is not because of the phone reps. Without them, I would have lost both cases, and I would have canceled my Paypal membership LONG ago! I am still unsatisfied with the process.
The convenience has made me stick by this long, but I hesitate now every time I use it…How much do I trust the merchant? Is it looking like USA company (been tricked)? What is the likelihood I will get screwed again by receiving nothing, receiving wrong, receiving broken items, non-functioning software? All have happened to me, all were hassles, and I never got my money back for the non-functioning software.
When it is an easy transaction, all the way through delivery, Paypal is superb. Otherwise, not really.
Honestly, it’s like Amazon to me. I grumble, I gripe, I love the convenience, and so I grudgingly use it. It must be worth it, then, right?
Paisley Pig, formally known as Rusty Pig, was found abandoned by previous owners of a previous home. For Jerry it seemed to be love at first sight, or at least like. At first, I was on board—after all, it is a watering can. Kind of cute, in their weird way, pigs are not an animal I have an affinity for, because of the Iowa connection, combined with stereotypes of dirt, stink, fat, lazy, cause me to avoid pig collecting, and such. I do have compassion for the actual animals, of course! And cartoon pigs—no problem there.
Anyway, once I found out the entire belly of said pig watering can was so rusted as to be missing. That pig couldn’t hold ice cubes, let alone water. I said, “ditch it!”
So here we are some six years later, different house, different town, and yes the pig was instantly installed into the then chip-filled back yard. It was the first lawn decoration we had, having previously been in a townhouse, and it the only feature of the back yard at all at that time.
I haven’t been thinking about this obsessively, or anything. Rusty Pig was content hanging in the shadowed area by the fence. Jerry requested I give RP a make-over. I didn’t think to take a Before picture, but I hunted one down. Tucked in the shadows, she is difficult to see!
After makeover—Paisley Pig! She seems much happier now.
I am struck with nostalgia for my daughter, Cherie Straw… I had to go looking for this song (again) from An American Tail Soundtrack, “Somewhere Out There”.
It always makes me emotional. I swear I can still feel the hugs we shared when she was young–the warmth of her love, the smell of her hair, little clothes so sweet, tiny body with arms thrown around my neck and shoulders, all hugs and kisses, while watching this movie and the sequel–and and all other times. We saw it on HBO of course, as we never went to the movies back then.
Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram. So young, so cute! Just looked it up, Linda would have been around 40 in this video. She looks 12, ha ha, so adorable.
This is the song that always makes me tear up. Missing my little girl, and remembering how I ruined Tania Mousekewitz (Cherie’s was far more perfect than this internet poser.)
This morning, my husband, Jerry, was pondering what to have for dinner tonight while Trini was “helping” to make the bed (by being in the middle of it). He says, maybe what we should have tonight is a roasted dog. While some do consume such dinner fare, no worries here, it was an idle threat falling on (big, floppy) deaf ears.
I was reminded of Roasting Ears. I know Mom called corn on the cob roasting ears, but Dad called it corn on the cob. We didn’t normally have it roasted, at all—it was always boiled in a big pot.
Honestly, did the photographer think those blobs of butter make the picture below more appetizing? Yuk. They should apply their butter properly, with the bread spread action innovated by my cousin, Jerry Wilson: Generously butter a piece of white bread, nestle corn in the center (pig in blanket style), gently rotate corn on bread—voila!
