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Wake-up Choices
So, what gets you going first thing in the morning? Of late the first thing is our young next-door neighbor. As it is with most young men who own a P/U truck these days, seems the exhaust has to make a deep throaty growling sound. Kind of like when my great granddaughter is visiting and I go Grrrr’rr, I’m gonna get you, and she scurries away and the chase is on. Not sure what these guys are chasing, chics I hope.
Now the growl of a big Ford, Chevy, or Ram is really not what I’m referring to here. I was more or less going to speak to liquid intake. For some, it’s tomato or orange juice juice. For the HIP I’ve seen so many concoctions, that it blows my mind. One in particular I would most likely never do is a GREEN something. For some reason, I just can’t get into drinking green. I include for your reading ingestion the following https://insanelygoodrecipes.com/breakfast-drinks/
Now for me and mine of late, we’ve been trying cinnamon-infused pods from Starbucks and Dunkin. I’m the Barista here and it just works for me. It is so simple for the two of us. We’ve farmed off gatherings to our daughters Kathryn & Sarah who live close by. So Matthew, our son in Connecticut escapes hosting the Mid-Atlantic gatherings. But then again, he married into a giant family on his wife’s side and the family has some big gatherings to accommodate up north.
I’m wandering here. Back to the cinnamon, we both like it. I’m fond of Starbucks, they call it Cinnamon Dolce, Mary Agnes likes the Dunkin Cinnamania. I must mention I’m sweet on caramel, the little lady makes it for me and I’ve been known to add a 1/2 Tsp. to my Cinnamon Coffee. For a bit of Regularity, you might want to try a Chicory Coffee and pretend you are down New Orleans way at the Cafe Du Monde’. So COFFEE, it’s what gets us going here and around the world. And Pods, well a lot has been said about them. Whatever side of the bed you get out of in the morning, start your day, your way!
And the leaves must fall.
I’ve written previously about my Paulownia (or Princess tree.) They are a fast-growing tree that originated in the Orient. An interesting thing we’ve found over the years is that the tree loses its leaves each year with the first good frost.
Here is a great Bio on the PAULOWNIA TREE should you be interested.
Our tree is approximately fifteen years old. During its first few years, I cut it off at the roots several times with a mower while cutting the grass. Eventually, to save the tree I put a wire fence around the base for a year or so. The backside, not visible here was lost some time ago during a harsh winter. You’re facing due north observing this image.
Within the past few weeks, we had to have an old Maple and a Black Walnut tree cut down.
The Black Walnut
The Maple
To give you some perspective on the size of these trees, the boom on the truck extends 94 feet. That portion of the Maple is hanging over our home, specifically, Mary Agnes’ sewing studio/Quilt shop. She loved that Maple, especially the red buds that came out each year. The tree constantly harbored food for a myriad of Wood Peckers, Bats, Owls, and others throughout the seasons. As she sat in her studio watching the demise of an old friend, tears welled in her eyes, as a Barn Owl flew out of a large rotted portal and lit upon a close by Yellow Pine. “His home will be gone, no more screech during the night.”
As you can see by looking at 2 o’clock on Maple’s trunk, little support was left for the part hanging over the Little Woman’s Quilt shop. I’m sure the Owl will find a new home and trees in the surrounding woods shall provide the necessary insects for the Woodpeckers.
As a side note, that is a Weeping Willow in the background. Appropriately named, as it was a gift from good friends in October of 2012 in memory of the passing of Mary Agnes’ brother Bobbie. As the winds blow, the Willow weeps.
So, for now, a tree shall not fall upon our home on a highly windy day, I feared this during several weather events this past year. Nor-easters and tropical storms frequent the Maryland coast just 30 miles away. I shall sleep peacefully, my ear will not be tuned to the gust of the blowing wi
Should you be interested in just who makes their home in a tree trunk, check out ZOO NERDY.
Chuck IT!
As I’ve mentioned previously, Jack Limpert’s Blog, “About Editing and Writing” is a blog I follow and read religiously. After reading the below I said to me self, “Yep, that be me.”
Back in Junior High, I was told by my mother and stepfather, you must take a Language. French, Latin, and Spanish were the options, I chose Spanish. I was no ball of fire academically back in those days. Actually, it lasted for a few years. It’s only for my desire to play football that I made it through high school and a diploma prior to beginning my formal education in Parris Island, SC.
While in High School I once again was told I had to take a Language and it would be Latin. You got it, didn’t pass that course. A bit of a rebel I was back then. After several tries at ninth (9) grade I was a tenth grader (10) and once again took Spanish. I think the teacher liked football players, and somehow I passed.
After the Marine Corps, I spent a few years as a professional Firefighter. I would find myself at one point, a member of the Special Services/Community Relations arm of the Dept. Sent me they did to a Spanish Speaking class. I got a certificate of completion and actually learned a lot of relevant stuff, ie: Consígueme una escalera, quite useful when one does not want to jump.
I would also, during my career as a State Trooper learn a bit of street Spanish here and there. By the time of my retirement I had been using Spanish for nie on to thirty plus years.
Today, my greatest use of the language is when I tell the young lads who mow our lawn –
“Cómprense unas cervezas después del trabajo.” I’m done with Spanish classes, lets have a cold one.
Why You Should Swap Your Bucket List For a Chuck-It List
September 4, 2023
From a Washington Post column by Valerie Tiberius headlined “Why you should swap your bucket list for a chuck-it list”:
On my father’s 75th birthday, he announced some news: He no longer intended to learn Spanish. He told me that, for most of his life, he imagined he would one day speak the language fluently, but this year, at this new age and vantage point, he was giving up that goal.
He seemed a little melancholy about it but mostly relieved that he no longer had this piñata of shame hanging over his head.
Best of all, he adopted a mental heuristic for this goal-no-longer that I believe has liberating potential for everyone: Learning Spanish, he told me, was now an item on his “chuck-it list.”
Bucket lists can be a fun, inspirational tool — they encourage us to chase new experiences, such as learning chess or going on an African safari. But let’s face it: They can also be oppressive, irritating reminders that you can’t afford that $3,000 flight to Johannesburg.
As a philosopher of well-being, I can tell you that philosophers tend to divide into three camps on the subject: hedonists, who think well-being is all about good feelings; objectivists, who believe we live well when we achieve things with value transcending the individual; and desire satisfactionists, who think well-being means fulfilling your own goals.
I am in the third camp. I like that this approach respects individual differences and explains why there are so many different good lives. But it also has a serious flaw: Focusing on pursuing our goals often leaves us running on a treadmill of desire and frustration.
The solution to this problem lies in choosing which goals to pursue. The mere pursuit of a goal won’t promote your well-being — you have to be selective. This is where the chuck-it list comes into play.
Are you the kind of person who is going to be on your deathbed regretting that you missed your chance to ride in a hot-air balloon, like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”? Then do it! But when I really thought about that long-held fantasy, I let it go pretty easily, along with parasailing and completing a “century” (a 100-mile bike ride). I felt liberated when I moved these activities to my chuck-it list. It freed me to think about what I actually want to do — which is, turns out, shorter bike rides and flying only in the safety of a commercial airplane.
Of course, building the chuck-it list can be difficult. In his book “Four Thousand Weeks,” Oliver Burkeman reminds us of the old time-management trick of thinking of your goals as rocks that you have to fit into the glass jar of your life. The advice is to put in the big rocks (important goals) first because otherwise you’ll fill your jar with little, unimportant pebbles and won’t be able to fit in the big ones later.
Burkeman dislikes this advice: He points out that the metaphor presupposes that we can squeeze in all the big rocks if we start with them, which might not be true. I agree. Sometimes, it’s a big rock that we have to move to the chuck-it list.
Discarding goals that we really care about is difficult; failing to complete them can elicit sadness or regret. For my father, the relief of letting go of speaking fluent Spanish came tinged with sadness because he saw learning a foreign language as valuable. When you move things to your chuck-it list because you can’t physically do them anymore (e.g., a marathon), there’s also likely to be a layer of disappointment about aging and the reminder of mortality.
The same can be said about goals on a bucket list made impossible by financial constraints or time limitations: They force us to come to terms with circumstances beyond our control.
So what should we do about these negative feelings?
My neighbor, a retired pianist and choir director, told me she took learning certain difficult musical compositions off her bucket list. She described the resulting feeling as “sweet loss” — sweet because she can still listen to those beloved pieces, loss because she’s not going to be the one playing them.
Accepting this wisdom requires a shift in perspective. Bucket lists tie the value of our dreams to our value as individuals. Once we cut that tie, we can still appreciate the value of our abandoned goals by finding pleasure in the achievements of others.
Shifting away from a self-centered perspective can help giving up goals feel a bit less bitter. And really, what is the alternative? Keep everything on your bucket list and try to stuff all the rocks into the jar? This inevitably leads to disappointment and frustration. It might also lead to missing out on enjoying what wasn’t on your bucket list — things brought to you by serendipity that you couldn’t plan for, or things you’ve been taking for granted.
This is why I believe your chuck-it list is just as important as your bucket list. As you age, you grow into a different person with new priorities; your goals should evolve, too. Give yourself permission to remove those items you’ll probably never get to. And most important: Don’t feel bad about it.
Valerie Tiberius is a professor of philosophy at the University of Minnesota and the author of “What Do You Want Out of Life? A Philosophical Guide to Figuring Out What Matters.”
Speeding to Connecticut
For the past thirty five years we have been driving to Connecticut from Maryland to visit with family. For twenty years we traveled from Connecticut to Maryland to visit family. Along the way we’ve had family in New Jersey, Delaware, Virginia and Florida. We’ve made these adventures via Plane and automobile. Just two weeks ago we made the journey via Amtrak.
Our daughter Sarah and husband Greg provided transportation to the Wilmington, DE Train Station. Those two world travelers were inroute to Philadelphia’s airport and a trip to England & Spain. Wilmington is on the way should you not be geographically literate. So much for having to take the Bayrunner shuttle from SBY to BWI Amtrak station. Some bucks saved there.
The train we would travel on was the Acela. Top speed on this sleek train is 170 MPH. Thats 273 Kilometers per hour for you folks in the rest of the world. Change to the Metric System and get rid of Day Light Saving time I say. Amtrak has a great site for tracking it’s trains. I’m a bit of a map freak and I used this site often to orient myself.
At the present time I use a cane quite often, bum knee and vertigo make a 3 point upright position easier. Elevators at Wilmington and our destination in New Haven, Connecticut helped me immensely with my navigation in the train station. My son met us in New Haven with a wheelchair in New Haven. Thanks Matt. Entry to the individual cars on the train is level with the train entrance. There is a bit of a gap, use caution should you travel this way. As in Great Britain “Mind the Gap” they say.
Once on the train we found our assigned seats in our assigned car. The station platform is marked for where each car stops. We were in a four seat cube with a table in front of each seat, (foldable). Our seat mates as far as NYC were an unrelated man and woman, business types were I guessing. A nod hello and a smile and the words “pleasant rest of the trip”, from the woman who slept most of her journey. The man, dropped a gym bag on his seat and I’m guessing spent the ride to NYC in the Cafe Car. Here’s another bloggers analyses of the Cafe Car. While pulling into Penn Station in NYC our mail seat mate returned, gathered his bag, and set off to detrain.
While enroute to NYC a server, offering drinks and snacks came around, credit card and Apple Pay only. Funny, she never mentioned peaches or orange pay. Mary Agnes had herself a glass of Sauvignon Blanc wine. I stayed with my bottled water.
With our seatmates gone two new companions arrived. One, a woman from Minnesota now living in Bourne, MA, the other, a man from Connecticut now living north of Boston. We chatted off and on and learned the woman was in Plastic Sales and the man Software sales. Our female companions mother back in Minnesota was soon to turn 101 years old and lives in her own home. These two seatmates would exit the train in Boston. Our male companion arrive damp after a 25 block jog in the rain wearing shorts and T shirt. Only negative during the entire trip, It was a cold ride. I had a hoodie, the wife a jacket, and she was still cold. She said it was 53 f with a wind chill of 45.
We would arrive in New Haven four minutes late. Our son met us with a wheelchair, and several elevator rides to the parking garage we were on our way north to the kids home an hour away.
The reason for the trip, Granddaughter Rebecca’s HS graduation. Congrats Kiddo, Bryant College in RI, next stop.
As far as safety is concerned we never felt apprehensive at all during the trip. Uniformed law enforcement was visible in all stops as well as officers with dogs at Wilmington and New Haven. The trains were clean and seats comfortable with easy baggage storage. We will definitely ride the rails again soon.
Our return trip four days later would go from New Haven’s Union Station to Baltimore’s BWI Station. I’ll make that trip my next blog. Have a great day my friends.
Please, don’t forget to check on the elderly. Semper Fi
Woof Woof
I’m going to share something from “The Paris Review,” it’s one of my yearly expenses and I’m reading of the works of many people past and present. What is the “Paris Review” you ask.
- The Paris Review, American literary quarterly founded in 1953 by Peter Matthiessen, Harold L. Humes, and George Plimpton, with Plimpton also serving as the first editor. It is an English-language review modeled on the independent literary magazines (also known as “ little magazines ”) published in Paris in the 1920s.
After reading this poem in the most recent review, I could not but look at my own pets down through the years, especially dogs.
My dogs started with a Mutt named Lady, I can not remember when she crossed the Rainbow Bridge. However I do know the loss of a pet can be an emotionally devastating experience. I do know Lady was my pal early in life back in the 40’s. Somewhere around the age of 9 or 10 we adopted Scarlet & Amber, Dalmations from the same litter. They were inseparable and lasted at most, and I’m guessing, a month? They had to be returned as they were not good house pets I was told.
Next was Co Co, full name CoCO Mimi Celest by Hecht. I turned that girl into a hunting a dog, ten yards out, back and forth, Quail, Grouse, Pheasant or whatever, kick it to the air she would. She loved the hedgerows of Burlington County, NJ back in the late 50’s and early 60’s. Most of those hedge rows and birds no longer exist. The only downfall of this girl was, she hated getting her feet wet. Whenever we came to a stream, I’d cross, lay the Shotgun down and return for CoCo’s ride across the water.
In 1969 or 70 I brought home from work a medium sized scruffy wire haired dog named Ping. The name, she used to lay beneath the Ping Pong table at the firehouse I worked at. An old LaFrance (1947) 100 ft aerial ladder truck co. in Hartford, CT is what I rode. Back in the day I like to say.
The Mrs. wasn’t too keen on this pathetic looking creature and I remember her saying, “If he so much as nips once, any of the children, out he goes. The kids, a new born, one, 1 yo and another age 3. Never a nip, had that wonderful pet for a good ten years. Called her Ping the Wonder Dog back in the day.
A Yellow Lab with the name of Saucy would also join us those years in Connecticut. Once the fruit of the vine appeared, we continuously found Cucumbers on our lawn from neighbors gardens, the Lords bounty.
After my retirement from the CT State Police we moved to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, a sort of compromise between Maine, the Mrs. choice, and Florida, my choice. We wound up getting a Black Lab – Mix, and what we suspect was the father, a Collie named Chief. That Mutts name was Troop.
We would have a Marsh and a Duke along the way. Next to last we had a Maggi, a Standard Poodle and presently, another Standard Poodle, Benjamin.
Many of the atributes mentioned in the poem I am about to share existed in one or all of our past canines.
Without further ado, I share with you.
| Erica Jong Jubilate Canis (With apologies to Christopher Smart) For I will consider my dog Poochkin (& his long-lost brothers, Chekarf & Dogstoyevsky). For he is the reincarnation of a great canine poet. For he barks in meter, & when I leave him alone his yelps at the door are epic. For he is white, furry, & resembles a bathmat. For he sleeps at my feet as I write & therefore is my greatest critic. For he follows me into the bathroom & faithfully pees on paper. For he is almost housebroken. For he eats the dog food I give him but also loves Jarlsberg swiss cheese. For he disdains nothing that smells— whether feet or roses. For to him, all smells are created equal by God— both turds and perfumes. For he loves toilet bowls no less than soup bowls. For by watching, I have understood democracy. For by watching him, I have understood democracy. For he turns his belly toward God & raises his paws & penis in supplication. For he hangs his pink tongue out of his mouth like a festival banner for God. For though he is male, he has pink nipples on his belly like the female. For though he is canine, he is more humane than most humans. For when he dreams he mutters in his sleep like any poet. For when he wakes he yawns & stretches & stands on his hind legs to greet me. For, after he shits, he romps and frolics with supreme abandon. For after he eats, he is more contented than any human. For in every room he will find the coolest corner, & having found it, he has the sense to stay there. From issue no. 71 (Fall 1977) |
| Don’t forget to check on the elderly. theRooster |
Hamburger Helper
This morning the wife and I are sitting at the kitchen table and I notice a box of Hamburger Helper on the counter. It’s been many a year since I’ve seen a box like that in our house. ” What pray God are we doing with that,” says I. The little lady answers with, “I just thought a trip back to the fifties might be something different”
I am shocked. We eat quite well mostly, no strict diet of one kind or another. Our diet is what I would call well rounded. None of that scheduled fasting, no Vegan, Ketogenic, Mediterranean, Paleo, Weight Watcher’s, Carb Cycling or what ever. I’d like to call our diet a good old sensible 1950’s real food diet. I mean, for goodness sakes, I’ll be eighty (80) in a few months, we must be doing something right.
So, getting back to the Helper. No Hamburger in the freezer, so the lady breaks out a pound of ground Pork. “How about some Green Beans with that.” “No,” Hamburger Helper I’m told. You see, I love Green Beans. I could most likely finish a #10 can of the beans all by myself. I’m told there may be some Spinach mixed in. Wouldn’t Popeye be proud of us. So, tonight, it’s back to the fifties.
Our daughter Kathryn and son-in-law Jeff have Jeff’s dad living with them for a few months. Jeff’s heading to Austria and Slovenia for a few weeks soon and we shall prepare some of the meals. I’m guessing Jeff will eat quite well on someone else’s dime. Daughter Kathryn gets busy at work so we shall help with a meal or two on the table for her and her father-in-law.
Some great meals from the fifties, Beef Stroganoff, thanks Hamburger Helper. Next on most everyone’s list, Meat Loaf. The beefy, robust flavors come together like nothing else and have become cherished by every American across the country. How about Skirt Steak on the grill? After World War II, American families could finally get more access to meat and with the advent of outdoor grilling, steaks became the hot item that continues to define American cuisine.
Chicken and dumplings trace their roots back for centuries. Our dumplings are called Slicks. Auntie Ems has them all ready to boil and frozen should you wish to shop in our Food Lion or Acme. A bit of Green Bean Casserole on the side would be lovely. My good Irish friend Ed O’Leary uses the word LOVELY quite often. Hands across the sea you know. I have a cousin, haven’t seen her in years, Patty was her name. For family functions we could always depend on Green Beans and Onion topping. If you’re reading this, “Hi Patty.”
Chili, we eat this with a bit of frequency, thanks to son-in-law Jeff. It’s especially good during football season. On the side you’ll always find a bowl of Jalapenos. His gut must always be in turmoil.
I could go on and on, how about Chicken Pot Pie, a Sunday Beef or Pork Roast with mashed potatoes and roasted carrots, and weekend meals are sure to transform forever. Don’t forget to go to Sunday School.
We in our suburban Philadelphia home always had, it seemed like a weekly staple anyhow, Fish Sticks. To this day, I deplore Fish Steaks.
At any rate, should you be old enough to remember, perhaps I’ve stimulated your brain and taste buds. Eat well, eat often, and don’t go to be hungry.
Turn off the TV and internet fifteen minutes early, pick up your favorite book, and read a few pages. It really helps you sleep. Currently, I’m Reading “Fall of Giants” by Ken Follett. It seems lately it’s either history or the life and times of Stone Barrington that I’m reading. Stuart Woods writes about Mr. Barrington.
25f on 12/06 on Md’s Eastern Shore this AM. It was a bit chilly when I let the chickens out of the hutch. Now, if we could just have a few more eggs girls. They’ve reached the terrible twos, The egg count is down.
Don’t forget to check on the elderly.
November 10, 2022
A Birthday
Yes today is my birthday, along with every other present and past United States Marine. No matter where we born, Parris Island, SC, San Diego CA or Quantico, VA. When you get that Eagle Globe and Anchor, your life as a Marine has begun. I feel I’m looking pretty good for a man of 247 years.
Here is the Commandant’s message for this the 247 Birthday of the Marine Corps. Should you be interested in learning a little more, take a few minutes and watch the accompanying video.
The US Marine Corps started as the Continental Marines on November 10, 1775. On that date, the Second Continental Congress decided that they needed 2 battalions of Marines to serve as landing forces with the Continental Navy during the American Revolutionary War (1775–1783).
(Photo from : https://weaponsandwarfare.com/about/
After the war, the Continental Navy was dismantled, and as a consequence the Marines as well. However, after increasing conflict with revolutionary France, the Marine Corps was formally re-established.
Trainning
If you live east of the Mississippi river, your boot camp training will be located at Parris Island, SC. Now there is a special place that brings back many memories from every Marine who has gone through that training.
Parris Island has a long history of colonization. Many attempts were made at permanent settlement between 1526 and 1722. The first successful attempt was made by the French in 1562, followed by the Spanish and finally the British. After the Revolutionary War, Parris Island plantations began to grow cotton instead of indigo. During the Civil War, the island became a coaling station for the Union Navy.
Nov. 2, 1861 – The first Marines in the area of Parris Island sailed into Port Royal Harbor, S.C., as members of detachments aboard various ships with the Atlantic Blockading Squadron. Commanding officer, Navy Capt. Samuel F. Du Pont, seized the area and it was used as an important base for the Union Navy throughout the Civil War.
Aug. 7, 1882 – An act of Congress authorized the establishment and construction of a coaling dock and naval storehouse at Port Royal Harbor. A select group of naval officers chose Parris Island as the site.
Yamassee
In early July of 1962 this writer arrived at Parris Island via Yamassee, SC.
Although Parris Island’s first recruits arrived on the USS Prairie in October 1915, the Marines developed that same year a train station at Yemassee, S.C., which was the depot’s initial receiving point for the central and eastern recruiting stations. The town then had a bank, a general store, a few houses and “an abundancy of South Carolina pine.” A hotel was also there in 1915, and the Marines praised its ballroom and the gracious hospitality of the townspeople, especially its pretty girls. Recruits arriving at Yemassee on the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad would be transferred to the Charleston & Western Railroad, which ran to Port Royal. Once there, the World War I recruits would be placed on everything from side wheel ferryboats, barges, long boats or a kicker (a small motor boat) for the trip to Parris Island. Today, most all recruits are flown to this great advenure and will land in Charleston, SC.
I along with a host of new recruits from more northern states would board a train at 30th street station in Philadelphia, PA and head south to 13 weeks of summer camp. Should wish to learn more of this summer adventure check out https://www.mcrdpi.marines.mil/Centennial-Celebration/Historical-information/8-Yemassee-SC/
Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego
Today this Recruit Depot provides its nation’s Corps with basically trained Marines to fight in the current conflicts in both Iraq and Afghanistan. The depot has the responsibility to train all male recruits who reside west of the Mississippi River to serve at the call of the nation. Some history should you be interested. https://www.mcrdsd.marines.mil/About/Depot-History/
Officer Candidates School
The mission of Officer Candidates School (OCS) is to educate and train officer candidates in Marine Corps knowledge and skills within a controlled and challenging environment in order to evaluate and screen individuals for the leadership, moral, mental, and physical qualities required for commissioning as a Marine Corps officer.
I Can See Clearly Now
So, January 30 was my last post here on WordPress. I surely am not getting my $$$$ worth. Had some vision issues for a bit, which have been corrected with surgery two weeks ago. Well, mostly corrected, I still have a way to go, but much improved. Enough said on that subject.
To most of you whom I follow, I have tried to acknowledge your posts, for the most part anyway. If I’ve missed you, please forgive me.
This world of ours has flipped a bit upside down of late. Let us not blame the Russian people, there is enough hate out there already.
This past weekend I got to marry my nephew to his new bride.
Come June I’ll get to perform another wedding. This time it will be in Rhode Island and my brother Richard will marry the love of his life, Tina. Joseph and Ashton were married in Lewes, DE. I’ve also done ceremonies in Maryland and Connecticut. Things like this keep an old man out of trouble. So far all have been relatives, I can’t even make a buck on these events, You just can’t charge family.
For those who remember Aunt Barb, well she treated the wedding party to a grand meal of one’s choice at Baywood Golf Course. The Mrs. and I have eaten there on numerous occasions and have never been disappointed. Thanks, Aunt Barb! If you’re ever near the Delaware Beaches, it’s a great dining experience.
I leave you for this day, and feel good a blog is out. To all of you who know of the Rooster, Hello Again!
Smells from the kitchen/during a Blizzard
Blizzard Statement
Weather Channel Video
I look upon the counter and what do I see, three homemade baked items are facing me. Oh, and I must say, they turned out deliciously on this winter’s day..
The wife’s been in a baking mood, and It’s brought about some delicious food. Perhaps it’s the cold and frequent snow, I do not know. Something for sure has inspired her to kneading some dough.
Between things in the oven baking away, up to her office she would often stray, to work on a quilt this cold winter’s day. Quilts are her passion while listening to books, right now the “Third Reich” is into what she looks.
The buzzer goes off in the kitchen, it’s a break from her time to sew. Corn Bread and muffins have risen from the dough. A Blue berry Lemon Bread with a glaze brings sparkles to this writer’s eye. It’s something new she just wants to try.
Outside on the ground, some gathering snow, along with the flavors of the rising dough. The temperature falls close to the teens, but who really cares when you live with a baking queen.
Between the baking and sewing of a quilt, the aroma of a pot of hamburger soup wafts through the air. The carrots and potatoes get a gentle stir whenever one passes by the pot.
Quote the Rooster, “Ever more,” sweet bread that is, and not from the store.
Don’t forget to check on the Elderly
Looking Back
I’ve heard, as I’m sure many out there have heard also, Never look Back, only forward. Well I’m here to tell you there is a lot to look back on that brings us all joy. That bodes well in these times where our going forward is stymied much of the time by the current Pandemic that affects us all in one way or another. So my friends I’m just going to share some remembrances with you.
Just last week for instance I get a text from the Mrs., “stop at Food Lion and get me some Heavy Cream.” Fortunately this is a frequent request and I know right where to look for it, as well as what I’m looking for. However the Heavy Cream is not really what I’m looking back at.
All of us, yes even you who have eyes on this blog have observed the following. You go to a mall, grocery store, or if your a miser like us a “Dollar Tree” from time to time. As you look for a parking place, way in the back this time of the year you see the following. Shopping carts are strewn everywhere. Many carts block parking spots, some are coming at you at 15 -20 MPH, blown by December winds. I could use some Expletive Deleateds here but I wont.
There are cart Parking Stations conveniently located throughout most parking lots. Who uses them and who does not? Do you ever wonder, or, are you a culprit? Has that new Ford Bronco you see with the the dent in it’s door experienced a wind blown cart you wonder. How about the cart in the middle of the lane you’re traveling in, do you have to get out and move it to get by? Are the carts in the collection stacked inside one-another? They do fit inside one-another you know.
How about this one. You observe a shopper take his or her cart, which they have just emptied and from twenty five yards away send it flying towards the storage area. “Long pass towards the end zone, OH! incomplete,” as it Rick-O-Shays off that Toyota Van. Had a beer with Rick just the other day at a pub in Kilkenny.
What you do with your cart says a lot about you. Check it out.
There are a host of posts on this question on TWITTER also.
So OK, there are most likely reasons of significant value as to why a person doesn’t take the cart back. Disabilities, sudden downpours, dog or child locked inside for an hour on 100 degree day and passed out, so many reasons, so little time.
As you shop these last few day prior to Christmas, take a moment and take the cart back.
Merry Christmas to all from the Rooster and the Mrs.
As The Rooster Crows 
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