Saturday, February 5, 2011

Decorator Icing

Recently, most likely as a stalling tactic to prevent me from doing work on the dissertation and avoidance of the hideousness of network television, I have started reading cooking blogs.

I visit one blog, written by a young woman who is apparently a lovely person who adores cooking--the blog intro has heart shaped cookies with the name of the blog emblazoned on them in decorator's frosting. The effect is quite charming, and I am impressed that anyone would, first, have the inclination to do such a thing and, second, be willing to spend the time. I guess that I am the type of person who gets in bed every night and grimly thinks, "Okay, one more day closer to death: exactly what did I accomplish today that was worthwhile?" Not to be cranky, but putting "Menopausal Mom" in icing on cookies would not make the top ten, not to mention the top 100 million, things I would want to have accomplished that day. Decorator icing is just that--something which is of little substance and is not intended to last.

Not that I mean to criticize. Nope, I won't go there. I do, after all, read the blog. And much like someone once said, I read the recipes and think, "Well, that's not going to happen." I do like to cook, but I don't see spending an inordinate amount of time on a meal which will be inhaled in ten minutes and will be referred to generically as "chicken" by Nita. I mean, when I'm gone, is anyone going to say, "Wow, could she bake." Or, worse, "What a great little housekeeper." Pardon me, but what a way to be remembered. I would rather have someone say something like, "Wow, was she fun." Especially if the someone was a twenty-something male, but I again digress. Where was I? Oh, yes. . . Anyway, I figure the house will be here long after I'm gone, so let someone else clean it then. I, on the other hand, would prefer to be someone who made a difference on the world, someone who brought about change, who showed kindness, who helped others, and who raised children who would carry on the tradition.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Year of the Rabbit

Over there on the right is a photo of my Pet Partner, Bob the Bunny. Bob and I have been visiting hospice patients for a couple years now.

I have recently found out from Bob's Facebook page that this is The Year of the Rabbit. Bob would think it was about time, as this is the first Year of the Rabbit in his short lifetime. From what I understand, this year is supposed to be quiet after the "ferocious" Year of the Tiger.

Well, so far, if this is quiet, I would hate to see ferocious.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Groundhog Day

I simply cannot believe that the last time I blogged, it was Christmas. The last six weeks or so have been a blur--someone at work quit, and I took over her responsibilities, including a fractured department. The kids need to be run here and there. It has been The Money Pit with the rental house. Nita was scheduled to go on a four-day campout with her class, so we had all the attendant leaving home drama, only to have the trip postponed; then we had leaving home drama intensified, as if Nita got better at it with practice. EG's car died on the way to work. One of the bunnies had to have surgery. And I have been trying to hold on by my fingernails.

One good thing happened during all this. For the last twelve years or so, Rocky has lied, more or less on general principles, but mostly to get out of trouble. The discussion then becomes long, involved, convoluted, and frustrating for both of us, as he tries to remember what he has said, and I try to trip him up. He always gets punished twice for lying if I can catch him up and get him to admit to lying, which is usually. Last week, I sat him down and asked him something, and I said, as usual, "Now think about whether you want to lie or tell the truth." For whatever reason, he decided to tell the truth straight out. I don't know who was more dumfounded--me, or him. However, I simply said, "Okay. Your punishment is yada yada yada." He said, "Wow. That was a whole lot easier than lying."

I looked for the aurora borealis or angels singing over the house. The next time he got in trouble for doing something wrong, he said, "I should have lied."

I guess we haven't made that much progress.

So here it is February already. We have our own resident groundhog here, by the name of Crusty, as he doesn't back down from a meeting with any of us. With the weather we have been having, I am sure poor ol' Crusty wasn't able to reach his egress to check for his shadow this morning. Consequently, I have no clue if we are going to have six more weeks of this. Hopefully not.