My Day After Thanksgiving Post

On a typical day most of the sugar that I eat comes from fruit. Yesterday was not typical. The sweet potato casserole, the pecan pie (made with maple syrup and honey rather than corn syrup and very yummy!), the glass of Pinot Grigio… well, that was probably several days’ worth of sugar. (I count the wine because alcohol has the same effect on the bloodstream as sugar, or something like that.)

So, I had some rich food with my Thanksgiving meal and my stomach just went all stupid on me and acted like it didn’t know what to do with it. I felt fine, it just took forever to digest. It was like my stomach said, “Duh, what do you want me to do with this?” and I said, “Well, you could digest it! Your sister, my tongue, really liked it. Didn’t you notice that? Y’all are family so why not function, Family?”

I gave it extra enzymes and it was happy.

Memories of Old Country Stores

Someone posted a photo of an old country store on Facebook that reminded me of two stores that you just don’t find many of anymore. They are the old wood frame buildings with a wooden screen door. I guess if I ran across one these days, I’d probably feel like I was in a movie.

The last one I remember was in the 1990’s. We had hiked a trail in the Big Thicket called The Woodlands Trail. On our way home we stopped at a little store in a small community by the name of Dallardsville, if I remember correctly. It felt like we were sharing our childhood with our three sons as we went up to the door and went inside to get sodas and snacks. I usually got a root beer after hiking the Thicket.

The other store was in a tiny town by the name of Fred. If Fred wasn’t on a hill you could probably see the back of the sign that says ‘Fred’ on the southbound side of the highway while at the same time, standing next to the sign that says ‘Fred’ on the northbound side. I loved going to the store in Fred to get the Sunday paper when my grandparents lived up that way back in the late 60’s and on into the mid-70’s.

This was a really cool old store. Of course, the floor was made of wide wooden planks. The owners had a cat that hung out inside the store, just like it was a normal thing. I guess it was. There were comfortable chairs up front, close to the counter so that customers who were of a mind to could sit and visit with the owners while the cat listened in. Several of my friends have heard me tell of the day I went there with my grandma and we sat in those chairs and shared a bag of pork rinds while she visited. I can’t hardly eat pork rinds now without thinking of that little store in Fred with the comfortable chairs, the wooden floors and the cat.

You know, next time I head up that way I think I’ll see if that store is still there and stop by for a visit. I’ll have to get some pork rinds while I’m there.

Please Learn Some Manners

It’s not like you are my friend, asking the question because you care about me. It’s because you are so freaked out about someone like me that you don’t know what else to do other than say what naturally falls out of your mouth. Funny. I feel like anyone else until I run into someone like you.

You are the grocery store checker who when I tell you that all these groceries are together, I had to leave space where there is white powder on your conveyor belt because it might be flour and I’m allergic to that and also I can’t have even a smidgen of gluten in my kitchen, just has to say, not with a note of curiosity, but with a shocked tone of voice, “You’re allergic to flour? What do you eat?!” Would you say to a person in a wheelchair, “Gee. How do you get out of bed every day and get into that chair? How do you ever have any fun?” Of course you wouldn’t. That would be rude. Why do you think it’s OK to comment on any other health issue that a person has? And why don’t you clean off the conveyor belt so the next person who comes along with my same problem (there are more of us than you probably think!), won’t have to skip the white powdery part?

There have been times when the entire belt was dirty and I had to ask the checker to please clean it before I could put my groceries on it. I think grocery checkers ought to know that some people have these issues so they can keep the belt clean. After yet another rude checker today, I wonder if rather than go into an explanation in order to try to educate, which may just be a colossal waste of time and energy, I ought to just tell them their question is a bit rude and why don’t they clean off that conveyor belt? Maybe I ought to just ask them to clean the belt with no explanation. But I think that’s just a self-protective move and fails to educate the ones who are polite and teachable. Maybe writing this will help? I try not to let ignorance and rudeness get to me, but after about three years of this, it’s really getting old.

What Was Happening At My House On June 11, 1960

So, 55 years ago today, as if there wasn’t enough excitement already, I was riding my tricycle around in our house. The rooms made a loop from living room, kitchen, bedroom, hallway, bedroom and back to living room. It was like a race track. Howcome a 3 1/3 year old kid was riding a trike in the house? What was all the excitement about? Why was my grandma there and my parents leaving? Because they were going to the hospital to get my new baby brother that God had delivered to the hospital for us. Yep. That’s the only thing I would believe. My mom told me there was a baby growing in her swelling tummy and I just didn’t believe it. I had no problem believing God could just bring a baby from heaven or someplace and leave it at a hospital. Oh, and I knew it was a brother. They told me it could be a sister, but I knew that was wrong, too.

Our Wonderful Daylily Mystery

My husband says I planted these and forgot that I did it. Nope. I forget some things, but I’d remember planting flowers. I think. Really, these I would remember.

Aren't they beautiful?

Aren’t they beautiful?

I’d also remember the location, right by the mailbox near the street, because when we went to Kelowna, BC, last year, I was so impressed with all the beautiful yards that it made me want to do more to mine. So far, I’ve basically pulled weeds and cut things back which is a constant thing around here. Haven’t got to the planting part yet. During one of those weed pulling sessions, I noticed some long grassy blades that looked different. When I see something coming up that I can’t identify right off, I usually leave it so that when it grows up I can see what it is and whether or not I want it to stay. I’ve regretted that a time or two, but it’s also how I got my mock orange and Turk’s cap. (Turk’s cap is a great flower for attracting hummingbirds, by the way!)

We really don’t know how these got here unless we have a neighbor or friend who is planting things surreptitiously in folks’ yards. I have some pretty cool family and friends, so that is a possibility. Actually, I think it’s probable because after reading a bit, it looks like daylilies won’t just pop up in a clump like this.  They will spread, but that’s only after being planted by a human. Another thing I learned is that hummingbirds and orioles are both attracted to daylilies. Wow! That just adds some excitement to this whole mystery!

Another good thing is that they can be expected to hang around here for a long time. I still have some yellow ones growing by the water faucet that my Aunt Myrtle planted when she lived here back in the 1960’s. My mom has always said that Aunt Myrtle could plant a dead stick and it’d come back to life and grow. I’m not like her. These babies are tough, and that’s just the kind of plant I need. The fussy ones can’t survive my sporadic care. Daylilies can handle drought and are pest resistant and they crowd out the weeds. Yea, for fewer weeds!

Well, we don’t know how these flowers ended up in our yard, but we sure are glad to have them. May God bless our mystery gardener!

I sure do wonder who…?

 

So pretty!

So pretty!

Atrocities

This will be short and sweet. Not because the world isn’t complicated, but because it’s late and I don’t care to tease apart all the little details of history and politics and religions.

There was quite an uproar over President Obama’s speech at the Annual Prayer Breakfast the other day. As true as it may be, I see no point in saying the things he said about all religions having their extremists.  In most, if not all religions, we find adherents who don’t see eye to eye on some pretty important details, like matters of life and death, and love and hatred. (Maybe if he’d said that the same religion that was used to justify slavery was also used to end it, that might have kept some folks from being offended.) However, this was a Prayer Breakfast attended by folks from all over the world who don’t want to fight each other or anyone else. They want peace which makes his comments sound pretty bizarre. So, who was he talking to at this Prayer Breakfast?

After today’s announcement that he wants authorization from congress to go after ISIS, and any cohorts of ISIS, with no geographic boundaries, I think he was talking to congress when he addressed the folks at the Prayer Breakfast. I think he was trying to suggest that bad people shouldn’t be allowed to continue committing their atrocities, without actually saying that. I think on that day, he had today in mind.

As far as what he is actually asking congress for, it sounds to me like he wants to use drones to drop bombs on anyone who is thought to be a member of ISIS, or anyone thought to be affiliated with them, no matter where on the planet this suspect is found. If that’s what you are thinking, Mr. President, that is trial by death. Tell me that’s not an atrocity.

Weirdness at the Courthouse

I went to the courthouse today to pay my property taxes. (Who really owns what we own if we have to pay taxes to keep it? But that’s another blog for another day.) In order to get into the courthouse anymore, we have to go through a metal detector outfit that screens purses, wallets and bodies for metal objects. Because we had a shooting outside the courthouse, we have to do this to get in. Makes sense I guess, if your necktie is too tight. So, y’all can tell I’m not thrilled about any of this.

I greeted the fellows and put my purse in the plastic box and walked through the metal detector. They ran my purse through then handed it back to me and I started walking off when I was called back. They weren’t happy and said something about a knife in my purse. No. No knife. I don’t even have fingernail clippers. They ran my purse back through and told me I had a credit card knife in my purse. I told them they will have to show me what that is, because I’ve never heard of it.

I started pulling things out of my purse, even with them telling me not to. It seemed like they just wanted to gingerly poke around in it. I’m thinking, “Oh, no. I’m not going to stand here and play with this. We are going to empty my purse!” I am too old to be carrying things that embarrass men to see, so out it all came. All the notebooks, the Altoids boxes (one with Altoids and one with business cash), comb, coin purse, checkbook, measuring tape, calcium tablets, cards from every store around that wants to give me a card, Kleenex, etc. ALL of it. They were trying to stop me. Ha. No. We’re doing this. I know I don’t have whatever that thing is and they will know it, too, in a minute. They were a bit upset at first, and I don’t care for huffiness. I was as friendly as if we were all old friends having a picnic together in the park by the river on a beautiful day. No one needs to get aggressive with me, so I figured friendliness would diffuse that.

It’s kind of funny now that I look back. My ‘Jones’ kicked in. If you are related to me, or you know any of us Joneses, you know what that means. I really sort of took charge of things in a way, because over their protests, I emptied everything and told them to run it through empty, then put the stuff that was in the purse in the box a bit at a time and run that through, too. In the meantime, they kept trying to explain what those credit card knife things look like. I’m sure they thought they could find it if they looked, and I was acting like the stupid thing was invisible and could only be seen by their metal detector. They did run it through empty, then ran some of the stuff through just loose in the box. I even tossed in the Wet Ones pack and told them to scan that, too.

One of them (there were four or five guys making sure our courthouse is safe!) looked up credit card knives on his phone and showed me a photo of one. I told him I’d never seen one of those. They also showed me the screen, so I could see what they saw. I could identify keys and phone but I’d never seen that other thing. I told them it could be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands. They explained that you can buy credit card knives at convenience stores really cheap. There’s not much I want in a convenience store, so I wouldn’t know. The longer this mess went on, the nicer they all got.

They decided it must have been the purse before my purse and they apologized. I wondered what they thought they needed to do then, with contraband running loose in the courthouse! When I got my purse all packed back up (I told them it’s like packing luggage) and started to walk off, that’s when I noticed the line was out the door to get in. Gee, we kind of held things up. There was a man who came through as I was leaving and he told them, “I don’t like this new system!” and I said, “I don’t either!” He and I were headed off to the same place and I told him we just emptied my purse because they thought I had a credit card knife, but it must have been the purse before mine. Then I told him it’s not those guys’ fault, but I don’t think I could do that for a living. I’d feel like I was violating the Constitution.