2 hours ago
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Walking
So, I started out great with my friend Tracy. Walking three or four times a week for four miles each time. That little ipod thing will not measure correctly no matter how I recalibrate it. It consistently says 4 actual miles = 3.3 ipod miles. Anyway, it's not really the point (unless you can help me fix it). Then Steve's dad had a stroke and I went to their house for a week, no walking. Then I came home and had back issues and started my final term of community college (well, as long as I pass physics!) So again, no walking. This morning Tracy and I walked our four miles and then I forgot to stop the ipod, so it measure another ten minutes while I stood at her kitchen counter eating figs that I stole from someone's tree. I've been waiting forever for them to get ripe! Yumm-0! I have lost no weight, while Tracy has lost about twenty pounds. Maybe because she kept walking, while I slacked. Maybe I'll set my alarm early and go before class tomorrow. I have to do something. I feel like such a slug.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Butternut Squash Ravioli with Orange-Ginger Sauce
I'm like a chef or something! :)
Mostly I just enjoy reading recipes, but this one I did try and it was pretty good. No house fires, no bleeding appendages. Just a jet-lagged husband who didn't care what I was feeding him. Always a bonus when trying new dishes.
Ok, I took pictures, but then I realized it's just as hard to take good food pictures as it is to make good food!
Here's the butternut squash and (ground) hazelnut filling. Doesn't look so appetizing in the picture, huh?
Then I made the pasta dough and rolled it through that little machine:
Here's what all the raviolis looked like as they were drying:
Close-up, because I know you care:
Ta-da! The final product! That's sage and shaved parmesan cheese on top, actually it's a different hard cheese that cost a lot, but didn't taste much different than parmesan and it had a name I can't remember, so I'm calling it parmesan.
You didn't know you were now reading a cooking blog. LMAO.
Mostly I just enjoy reading recipes, but this one I did try and it was pretty good. No house fires, no bleeding appendages. Just a jet-lagged husband who didn't care what I was feeding him. Always a bonus when trying new dishes.
Ok, I took pictures, but then I realized it's just as hard to take good food pictures as it is to make good food!
Here's the butternut squash and (ground) hazelnut filling. Doesn't look so appetizing in the picture, huh?
Then I made the pasta dough and rolled it through that little machine:
Here's what all the raviolis looked like as they were drying:
Close-up, because I know you care:
Ta-da! The final product! That's sage and shaved parmesan cheese on top, actually it's a different hard cheese that cost a lot, but didn't taste much different than parmesan and it had a name I can't remember, so I'm calling it parmesan.
You didn't know you were now reading a cooking blog. LMAO.Thursday, October 01, 2009
Cleveland airport, aka old stuff I forgot to post
We’re now in Cleveland and the airport is kind of a rathole. That’s my favorite word for icky places. Rathole. One time Steve and our youngest daughter, Tayler, and I stayed in a Holiday Inn in midtown NYC and it was a huge rathole. His brother suggested it. He may have received some sick pleasure in sending us there, I don’t know. I remember sleeping there during the day, while Steve and Tayler went swimming in a rooftop pool. I had heatstroke from being in the city in the damn summer!
Anyway, now we seem to be in a rathole in Cleveland. We’re waiting in a lounge area till the shuttle takes us to the convention. Steve thought the lady meant to wait in a nearby bar (when she clearly said, "waiting lounge"), so he was looking for somewhere that served drinks! Ha. She meant a seating lounge from the 70s. I don’t know what he’s whining about, as it seems to me I was the one in coach on the flight from Atlanta to here! Not even in the bulkhead. What the heck? He stretches as we meet in the waiting area, “How was your flight?” Snot.
He’s reading over my shoulder. Actually he’s trying to get my hair back in its barret. This stupid thumb does not lend itself to grooming. In the Atlanta airport, I was in the women’s room trying to safety pin my top as it’s too low-cut and I was tired of hanging out. Well, it’s almost impossible to pin anything with a big ole thumb, so finally a lady was laughing and said she could help me if I want. So she pinned my shirt. I should have asked her to fix my hair too! The barret is now in my pocket as Steve couldn’t make it work and neither could I. Oh well.
It’ll be time for the shuttle soon. I hope the hotel is good.
Anyway, now we seem to be in a rathole in Cleveland. We’re waiting in a lounge area till the shuttle takes us to the convention. Steve thought the lady meant to wait in a nearby bar (when she clearly said, "waiting lounge"), so he was looking for somewhere that served drinks! Ha. She meant a seating lounge from the 70s. I don’t know what he’s whining about, as it seems to me I was the one in coach on the flight from Atlanta to here! Not even in the bulkhead. What the heck? He stretches as we meet in the waiting area, “How was your flight?” Snot.
He’s reading over my shoulder. Actually he’s trying to get my hair back in its barret. This stupid thumb does not lend itself to grooming. In the Atlanta airport, I was in the women’s room trying to safety pin my top as it’s too low-cut and I was tired of hanging out. Well, it’s almost impossible to pin anything with a big ole thumb, so finally a lady was laughing and said she could help me if I want. So she pinned my shirt. I should have asked her to fix my hair too! The barret is now in my pocket as Steve couldn’t make it work and neither could I. Oh well.
It’ll be time for the shuttle soon. I hope the hotel is good.
More Cooking
Still in Atlanta, still waiting, ho hum... Okay more cooking with Noelle...
Sunday I made chili. It was okay.
Monday I made double stuffed chicken breasts out of Rachel Ray’s October magazine. They were pretty good, well, except actually they were chicken thighs as the store didn’t have breasts with skin on, but it still tasted very good. I’d make it again.
Tuesday I made mozzarella stuffed pork chops (Rachel Ray again). Another hit!
Yesterday, chicken curry, cooked in the crockpot, since I’d be in school most of the day. I’d cut up the chicken the day before and had all my ingredients ready. I just had to cut up the sweet potato before my first class. Dumped in the chicken. Dumped in the sweet potato. Decided to cut up half an acorn squash too since it needed to be used. What I learned is that acorn squash doesn’t peel as quickly as sweet potato and I was short on time and going too fast. Now I’m short on thumb! Lol. Somehow I peeled the top of it right off, fingernail and all. I wrapped a towel around it and went to get Steve. I very calmly said, “Could you help me?” I think he pulled every bandage and accompanying tape we owned out of the cupboard, even some plumbers tape he found with the meds. He poured on the hydrogen peroxide. I asked for a chair. I can watch an autopsy repair but take off the tip of one of my own fingers and I get faint. What the heck? I don’t even know where the tip went, but don’t tell Steve. It all tastes like chicken, right? Gross.
So he bandaged me up; I went to the bathroom to get sick; and he apparently stayed in the kitchen to photograph the cutting board and medical supplies. Always an opportunist! Then I still had to finish throwing together the curry before heading to school. After class, I stopped by the health services department, where a soon-to-be nurse made me cry again as she undid Steve’s handiwork. She clucked her tongue as we both realized his bandage was stuck in the cut. It hurt almost as much as the first time. She butterfly bandaged me, wrapped me up and sent me to my next class. Throbbing thumb, huge bandage. Nice.
All in all, I think it was a pretty successful wifely week. Five cooking attempts yielded two pretty good meals (well, three if you count Muchas Gracias!) Not bad, I’d say. Well, I’ll probably score it higher in a few weeks...after my thumb heals.
Sunday I made chili. It was okay.
Monday I made double stuffed chicken breasts out of Rachel Ray’s October magazine. They were pretty good, well, except actually they were chicken thighs as the store didn’t have breasts with skin on, but it still tasted very good. I’d make it again.
Tuesday I made mozzarella stuffed pork chops (Rachel Ray again). Another hit!
Yesterday, chicken curry, cooked in the crockpot, since I’d be in school most of the day. I’d cut up the chicken the day before and had all my ingredients ready. I just had to cut up the sweet potato before my first class. Dumped in the chicken. Dumped in the sweet potato. Decided to cut up half an acorn squash too since it needed to be used. What I learned is that acorn squash doesn’t peel as quickly as sweet potato and I was short on time and going too fast. Now I’m short on thumb! Lol. Somehow I peeled the top of it right off, fingernail and all. I wrapped a towel around it and went to get Steve. I very calmly said, “Could you help me?” I think he pulled every bandage and accompanying tape we owned out of the cupboard, even some plumbers tape he found with the meds. He poured on the hydrogen peroxide. I asked for a chair. I can watch an autopsy repair but take off the tip of one of my own fingers and I get faint. What the heck? I don’t even know where the tip went, but don’t tell Steve. It all tastes like chicken, right? Gross.
So he bandaged me up; I went to the bathroom to get sick; and he apparently stayed in the kitchen to photograph the cutting board and medical supplies. Always an opportunist! Then I still had to finish throwing together the curry before heading to school. After class, I stopped by the health services department, where a soon-to-be nurse made me cry again as she undid Steve’s handiwork. She clucked her tongue as we both realized his bandage was stuck in the cut. It hurt almost as much as the first time. She butterfly bandaged me, wrapped me up and sent me to my next class. Throbbing thumb, huge bandage. Nice.
All in all, I think it was a pretty successful wifely week. Five cooking attempts yielded two pretty good meals (well, three if you count Muchas Gracias!) Not bad, I’d say. Well, I’ll probably score it higher in a few weeks...after my thumb heals.
Cooking
October 1, 2009
Sitting in the Atlanta airport, waiting for a flight to Cleveland. Last year we got to go to Rome for a Retrouvaille (marriage group we do) convention, this year: Cleveland. Really? Not that there’s anything wrong with Ohio, I’ve never even been there, but let’s see, Italy or Ohio? Hmm… Not a hard choice for where I’d rather go.
So, my thumb is bandaged and looks about twice the size it should be. It’s not twice the size but the bandage is big so I don’t thump it on something. I wanted to be a homemaker kind of wife this past week and cook dinner for Steve each night. It went okay, but could have been better.
It started last Thursday when I took a whole chicken out of the freezer to cook on our BBQ’s rotisserie. I thawed it overnight in the fridge, in an awesome marinade. Friday afternoon, I reached into the freezer bag to take it out and put it on the rotisserie-turner-pole-thing and my hand came back with a chicken breast. Then another. Then another. What??? It turned out not to be a whole chicken after all, but twelve breasts frozen into a lump! There are two of us, what the heck do we need twelve breasts for? Who even put that many in one freezer bag???
So, I dejectedly put the chicken on the preheated BBQ and went back inside to chop up some potatoes for boiling. As I stood over the kitchen sink, I could smell the chicken on the grill. That didn’t seem right, as it’d only been a couple minutes. Then I realized smoke was coming into the window and it was black. So I rushed outside where I could see flames on the inside of the grill. I’m not talking a little BBQ flame, but a full-on FIRE! I opened the lid, NOT SMART, and the flames roared. I shut the lid and hurriedly turned off the gas, terrified the whole time that my head was gonna catch on fire or the darn thing was just going to blow up. I called my girlfriend and asked could I throw flour on it. She said yes. Run back upstairs into the house and get the canister. Throw on a handful. Whoosh! Yeah, that worked well. Obviously it needed more flour. So, I threw on lots of handfuls, but they just burned up instantly. I called my girlfriend back, “It’s not working. The fire’s bigger, can I spray it with the hose?” “No, what if that spreads it because of the gas.” “I already turned the gas off, I better get the fire extinguisher.” I run to the garage and come back prepared. Pull out the red plug, squeeze the trigger, and NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. I look at the canister trying to determine if there are further instructions, how hard can it be to put out a fire? Then I realized there was a gauge, which read, “Recharge”. Great. I’m seriously thinking of calling 9-1-1. The grill is against the house and I’m terrified the house will catch fire. Black smoke is rolling from the grill and up and over our house. It’s two stories high! The children next door are starting to climb their play structure to look over the fence. I open the lid one more time and realize the chicken is almost burnt out and the flames are getting smaller. I throw on some more flour, just for effect. After about twenty more minutes the fire is out; the grill is black, no longer shiny metal; my whole house smells like smoke, and now, only now, I start to shake like a leaf. About this time, Steve calls to say he’s on his way home and, “hey, what’s going on with you?”
I have to confess. Swiftly, without hesitation. There’s no time to cover this up. Plus, now there’s no dinner, just small, black, hard lumps on a sooty grill. Oh my. It takes about five seconds before his chuckling begins. Just another day in the life of my cooking adventures. I ask if he thinks I should water down the side of the house now that the flames are out. He says yes. The water hits the siding and sizzles, smokes, pops its way up the wall. This was hotter than I realized. It takes a good five minutes for the house to stop smoking. Now I’m really shaking, so I go inside to “rest” till Steve gets home. He looks at me as he walks in the door, verifies that I’m okay, then looks out the back door and laughs. I get no respect, I tell ya. None, whatsoever!
He took me to dinner at my favorite Mexican place. Muchas Gracias, kind of authentic fast food. Yumm-O! But I really was looking forward to that rotisserie chicken…
Sitting in the Atlanta airport, waiting for a flight to Cleveland. Last year we got to go to Rome for a Retrouvaille (marriage group we do) convention, this year: Cleveland. Really? Not that there’s anything wrong with Ohio, I’ve never even been there, but let’s see, Italy or Ohio? Hmm… Not a hard choice for where I’d rather go.
So, my thumb is bandaged and looks about twice the size it should be. It’s not twice the size but the bandage is big so I don’t thump it on something. I wanted to be a homemaker kind of wife this past week and cook dinner for Steve each night. It went okay, but could have been better.
It started last Thursday when I took a whole chicken out of the freezer to cook on our BBQ’s rotisserie. I thawed it overnight in the fridge, in an awesome marinade. Friday afternoon, I reached into the freezer bag to take it out and put it on the rotisserie-turner-pole-thing and my hand came back with a chicken breast. Then another. Then another. What??? It turned out not to be a whole chicken after all, but twelve breasts frozen into a lump! There are two of us, what the heck do we need twelve breasts for? Who even put that many in one freezer bag???
So, I dejectedly put the chicken on the preheated BBQ and went back inside to chop up some potatoes for boiling. As I stood over the kitchen sink, I could smell the chicken on the grill. That didn’t seem right, as it’d only been a couple minutes. Then I realized smoke was coming into the window and it was black. So I rushed outside where I could see flames on the inside of the grill. I’m not talking a little BBQ flame, but a full-on FIRE! I opened the lid, NOT SMART, and the flames roared. I shut the lid and hurriedly turned off the gas, terrified the whole time that my head was gonna catch on fire or the darn thing was just going to blow up. I called my girlfriend and asked could I throw flour on it. She said yes. Run back upstairs into the house and get the canister. Throw on a handful. Whoosh! Yeah, that worked well. Obviously it needed more flour. So, I threw on lots of handfuls, but they just burned up instantly. I called my girlfriend back, “It’s not working. The fire’s bigger, can I spray it with the hose?” “No, what if that spreads it because of the gas.” “I already turned the gas off, I better get the fire extinguisher.” I run to the garage and come back prepared. Pull out the red plug, squeeze the trigger, and NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. I look at the canister trying to determine if there are further instructions, how hard can it be to put out a fire? Then I realized there was a gauge, which read, “Recharge”. Great. I’m seriously thinking of calling 9-1-1. The grill is against the house and I’m terrified the house will catch fire. Black smoke is rolling from the grill and up and over our house. It’s two stories high! The children next door are starting to climb their play structure to look over the fence. I open the lid one more time and realize the chicken is almost burnt out and the flames are getting smaller. I throw on some more flour, just for effect. After about twenty more minutes the fire is out; the grill is black, no longer shiny metal; my whole house smells like smoke, and now, only now, I start to shake like a leaf. About this time, Steve calls to say he’s on his way home and, “hey, what’s going on with you?”
I have to confess. Swiftly, without hesitation. There’s no time to cover this up. Plus, now there’s no dinner, just small, black, hard lumps on a sooty grill. Oh my. It takes about five seconds before his chuckling begins. Just another day in the life of my cooking adventures. I ask if he thinks I should water down the side of the house now that the flames are out. He says yes. The water hits the siding and sizzles, smokes, pops its way up the wall. This was hotter than I realized. It takes a good five minutes for the house to stop smoking. Now I’m really shaking, so I go inside to “rest” till Steve gets home. He looks at me as he walks in the door, verifies that I’m okay, then looks out the back door and laughs. I get no respect, I tell ya. None, whatsoever!
He took me to dinner at my favorite Mexican place. Muchas Gracias, kind of authentic fast food. Yumm-O! But I really was looking forward to that rotisserie chicken…
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
According to WikiAnswers:
A cubic foot of top soil weighs in the neighborhood of 75 - 100 pounds. There are 27 cubic feet in a cubic yard. Hence, one cubic yard of top soil weighs between 2025 and 2700 pounds.
A cubic foot of dry, loose gravel with 1/4" to 2" stones is 105 pounds per cubic foot. So, a cubic yard is that times 27, or 2835 lb. (There are 27 cubic feet in a cubic yard.)
The weight of any soil will depend on how saturated it is with water. A rule of thumb is that a cubic foot of saturated loamy soil weighs about 20 pounds. Saturated clay would be heavier because it is denser than loam.
According to Noelle's back:
Four yards of wet soil & gravel (10,800 pounds) removed by hand, approximately one-fourth by Noelle's hand: 2700 pounds. 2700 pounds by friend Dave. 5400 pounds by 21-yr-old neighbor, who surprisingly didn't want to help the second day. Lol.
Four yards of wet soil & gravel returned to the hole after water pipe repair and a day of leak-checking: approximately 2/3 by Noelle: 7200 pounds. 1/3 by Dave: 3600 pounds. I was the second day's manual laborer, while Dave did the hard stuff, like tamping the dirt back in while moving it back into the hole also, replanting, rebuilding the retaining wall, not to mention the actual repair itself on the first day!
What a reminder to me of how dependent we are on other people for our sustenance. I just finished reading Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank from 1959. An absolute must read! It's about living in a post-nuclear-war world, and one of their things to contend with was water. I guess then having no water for an entire twenty-four hours made me think about what would happen if we suffered some catastrophic event. Maybe I better go out and buy some salt, while it's still cheap!
Seriously, sometimes I forget how blessed I am to have water that comes from multiple faucets inside my house. My house! It's regular sized, a couple thousand square feet, not a big house compared to what gets built today, but folks all over the world would give anything to live in what I regularly refer to as the dump, because I'd rather have a one-level newer house that isn't constantly taking all our money for maintenance. How spoiled I am!
Steve is glad I'm taking science classes (yes, -es, I saved three of them to the very end, it sounded good at the time...grr..) instead of philosophy this term. He's laughingly tired of me questioning everything about our existence.
I guess it was just a water leak and I don't need to get too weirded out by it, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to also recognize how much we have in this country and to be grateful for it.
A cubic foot of top soil weighs in the neighborhood of 75 - 100 pounds. There are 27 cubic feet in a cubic yard. Hence, one cubic yard of top soil weighs between 2025 and 2700 pounds.
A cubic foot of dry, loose gravel with 1/4" to 2" stones is 105 pounds per cubic foot. So, a cubic yard is that times 27, or 2835 lb. (There are 27 cubic feet in a cubic yard.)
The weight of any soil will depend on how saturated it is with water. A rule of thumb is that a cubic foot of saturated loamy soil weighs about 20 pounds. Saturated clay would be heavier because it is denser than loam.
According to Noelle's back:
Four yards of wet soil & gravel (10,800 pounds) removed by hand, approximately one-fourth by Noelle's hand: 2700 pounds. 2700 pounds by friend Dave. 5400 pounds by 21-yr-old neighbor, who surprisingly didn't want to help the second day. Lol.
Four yards of wet soil & gravel returned to the hole after water pipe repair and a day of leak-checking: approximately 2/3 by Noelle: 7200 pounds. 1/3 by Dave: 3600 pounds. I was the second day's manual laborer, while Dave did the hard stuff, like tamping the dirt back in while moving it back into the hole also, replanting, rebuilding the retaining wall, not to mention the actual repair itself on the first day!
What a reminder to me of how dependent we are on other people for our sustenance. I just finished reading Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank from 1959. An absolute must read! It's about living in a post-nuclear-war world, and one of their things to contend with was water. I guess then having no water for an entire twenty-four hours made me think about what would happen if we suffered some catastrophic event. Maybe I better go out and buy some salt, while it's still cheap!
Seriously, sometimes I forget how blessed I am to have water that comes from multiple faucets inside my house. My house! It's regular sized, a couple thousand square feet, not a big house compared to what gets built today, but folks all over the world would give anything to live in what I regularly refer to as the dump, because I'd rather have a one-level newer house that isn't constantly taking all our money for maintenance. How spoiled I am!
Steve is glad I'm taking science classes (yes, -es, I saved three of them to the very end, it sounded good at the time...grr..) instead of philosophy this term. He's laughingly tired of me questioning everything about our existence.
I guess it was just a water leak and I don't need to get too weirded out by it, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to also recognize how much we have in this country and to be grateful for it.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Yesterday I went to my old funeral homes to visit and to pick up price lists. A friend's dad is elderly and ill and they asked me to help them figure out what they need to do. It kind of excited me to think of actually being needed and of actually having value. It's one thing I've realized in the past year of not working, no one needs me. My kids are grown and they hang out with me, but they don't need me. I have no coworkers depending on me to do my share. My husband has his work. The marriage group we work with functions fine without me, even though I like to think I make a difference. My girlfriend, Tracy, who I'm walking with, doesn't even miss me if i'm gone. I'm heading to Steve's office in CA tomorrow afternoon, so T already made a different walking date! I was like, hey, I'm not even going till one, and by the way can you take me to the airport?
Anyway, it was very fun to visit yesterday. The first place I worked is dark and kind of dreary, so it wasn't super great to visit, also I think the office manager doesn't really like me coming there. She's my replacement and i think it took her a while to figure everything out, so I think she thinks I'm judging the job she's doing, which I'm totally not. As why would I possibly care. Plus Skip wasn't there embalming, well, no one was embalming, which was a little weird. Bodies don't embalming themselves, you know. Actually, I didn't even see a body, come to think of it. Guess they weren't kidding when they said it'd been a slow month. I said, don't worry, the weather's cooling off, you just need a week of solid rain. "Don't I know it! A good stormy week and they'll be banging down the door!", Chris drawled with his heavy Southern twang.
So then I went to the last funeral home I worked for, it was the first time i'd been since they let me go. I called my buddy, Don, and said I wanted to stop by to get a price list. He was super excited and told me to come on in. It was only a little weird for a second to think about going in. I sure miss working there. So, long story short, the office manager got laid off about a month or so ago and last week the general manager got shipped to another location. (The location, managers go before they're fired.) So, Don is now the manager. Of course, I immediately asked for my job back, but they finally made the wise decision that they don't need three directors and a manager and an office manager and a receptionist. So the receptionist is now the office manager/receptionist and Don is the general manager/funeral director. They'll be running with four people instead of six and have a much better chance of being profitable. The two people who were incompetent are now gone and had I just ducked my head and gone with the flow I'd still be there and it would be a crazy fun place to work. I wonder will I ever learn? Well, I think I am learning, but it seems to be coming pretty dang slowly. I'm ready to go back to work now. It'll be nice to talk to our friend's parents about their funeral plans, it'll be nice to be needed for a few minutes.
We went camping for a couple nights last week, and I realized my kids are grown. The youngest is going to college this month. My oldest grandson starts school today, well kindergarten. My oldest boy will be 26 this month. At some point, time slipped up and got away from me and I guess I'm feeling a little melancholy or something. I just don't know what my purpose is right now. Well, right this moment, it's to do some painting downstairs. We painted window and door trim over the weekend, so now I have to touch up the walls, where we were a little, uh, messy.
That's it. The walls need me.
Sigh...
Anyway, it was very fun to visit yesterday. The first place I worked is dark and kind of dreary, so it wasn't super great to visit, also I think the office manager doesn't really like me coming there. She's my replacement and i think it took her a while to figure everything out, so I think she thinks I'm judging the job she's doing, which I'm totally not. As why would I possibly care. Plus Skip wasn't there embalming, well, no one was embalming, which was a little weird. Bodies don't embalming themselves, you know. Actually, I didn't even see a body, come to think of it. Guess they weren't kidding when they said it'd been a slow month. I said, don't worry, the weather's cooling off, you just need a week of solid rain. "Don't I know it! A good stormy week and they'll be banging down the door!", Chris drawled with his heavy Southern twang.
So then I went to the last funeral home I worked for, it was the first time i'd been since they let me go. I called my buddy, Don, and said I wanted to stop by to get a price list. He was super excited and told me to come on in. It was only a little weird for a second to think about going in. I sure miss working there. So, long story short, the office manager got laid off about a month or so ago and last week the general manager got shipped to another location. (The location, managers go before they're fired.) So, Don is now the manager. Of course, I immediately asked for my job back, but they finally made the wise decision that they don't need three directors and a manager and an office manager and a receptionist. So the receptionist is now the office manager/receptionist and Don is the general manager/funeral director. They'll be running with four people instead of six and have a much better chance of being profitable. The two people who were incompetent are now gone and had I just ducked my head and gone with the flow I'd still be there and it would be a crazy fun place to work. I wonder will I ever learn? Well, I think I am learning, but it seems to be coming pretty dang slowly. I'm ready to go back to work now. It'll be nice to talk to our friend's parents about their funeral plans, it'll be nice to be needed for a few minutes.
We went camping for a couple nights last week, and I realized my kids are grown. The youngest is going to college this month. My oldest grandson starts school today, well kindergarten. My oldest boy will be 26 this month. At some point, time slipped up and got away from me and I guess I'm feeling a little melancholy or something. I just don't know what my purpose is right now. Well, right this moment, it's to do some painting downstairs. We painted window and door trim over the weekend, so now I have to touch up the walls, where we were a little, uh, messy.
That's it. The walls need me.
Sigh...
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Walking/ Running/ Living
I started walking with a girlfriend. We're walking four miles three or four times a week. I bought my daughter's old iPod from her (hmm, how does that work? Pay for kid's stuff twice?) Anyway, I started using it today to track the walking through nikeplus.com. I'm hoping to add running back into my days at some point too. Mostly I think it's okay with my head now to run again. It was someting I cut out a few years back. Now I'm ready to not be chunky, but to feel okay in my own skin again. Steve says he'll join a challenge with me and then we can maybe both get back into shape again. It would sure be nice. Each time I've re-started running, my head goes to this weird place and I've stopped. Self-punishment, self-destruction, self-loathing, self-something. I don't know. I do know I'm tired of it. I'm tired of not thinking it's okay to feel okay. I'm tired of not liking how I look in the mirror. I'm tired of being physically tired, because I'm so out of shape. Time for some changes. I hope to show progress publically, so that I'm motivated to continue.
I'm supposed to be contacting the local university this week, as I'll finish at the community college in the fall and then will move on towards a bachelor's degree. Woo-hoo. I might just make it by the time i'm 50! :)
It's been interesting going to school again. I could totally just be a student for the rest of my life. Somehow, I'm thinking it's not in our budget though. I need to get motivated to find some kind of scholarship or something though, as I'm feeling pretty guilty about costing Steve so much money. What an awesome gift he's given me. What an awesome man I share my life with. It's incredible really.
There doesn't seem to be a reason for this post, just blabbing, which even I won't care to read later on. I'll hush now.
I'm supposed to be contacting the local university this week, as I'll finish at the community college in the fall and then will move on towards a bachelor's degree. Woo-hoo. I might just make it by the time i'm 50! :)
It's been interesting going to school again. I could totally just be a student for the rest of my life. Somehow, I'm thinking it's not in our budget though. I need to get motivated to find some kind of scholarship or something though, as I'm feeling pretty guilty about costing Steve so much money. What an awesome gift he's given me. What an awesome man I share my life with. It's incredible really.
There doesn't seem to be a reason for this post, just blabbing, which even I won't care to read later on. I'll hush now.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I saw a ghost today
Today I was sitting in my car in the parking lot at school and reading about ways to prove or disprove the existence of God. The argument isn't whether he exists or not, the argument is how to prove or disprove in the most effective manner. Anyway, that has nothing to do with anything. The driver's seat was pushed back, my legs stretched out, book open across the steering wheel, when a young person walked between my car and the one right beside me. I hadn't heard or seen him approaching, and I would have because he came from in front of me, from the next parking lot. He had to cross through the median and it's crunchy from leaves and bark dust. No sound, even with my windows rolled down. I glanced in the side mirror and he was already gone. I turned around and looked, gone. I looked up and down the row of cars. No one. It was totally weird and totally cool. I don't know that he was really a male, but I got that impression. I found myself wishing he would've gone slower and maybe I could have had a better look. Really, I'm not entirely positive it even happened. Although, i'm not saying it didn't, as it did. But it was just weird. Not weird in a bad way, just different. I rather liked it. I guess I kinda miss dead people.
Weight loss
None.
I'm taking an Interpersonal Communications class and we have to set some communication goals. So one of my goals is to lose fifteen pounds. What does that have to do with communication? Well, part of my strategy was to track my weight loss publicly. I was going to put it on our "family" blog, but decided against that, as I don't need endless ribbing. Not that I'd get it, but I've seriously been saying I want to lose weight for the past couple years and I've not done it. So, I'm going to get one of those Nike/Ipod things that go in your shoe and then you get to make a little person who looks kind of like a Mii, but that little person will track my runs and I can attach it to this blog. I have to figure out how to do all this, well I guess I could just ask Steve, but I'd rather try it myself first. Well, technically I guess first I have to get a different Ipod as mine isn't a touch so it's not compatible with the nike thing, and then I have to get the nike thing, but not the nike shoes, because I'm so not a fan of their shoes. But I read you can put the little chip on your shoelace, so that's what i'll try.
A few years back, a buddy and I tracked our running mileage versus our weight and it really encouraged me to want to see the mileage rise and weight fall. So I'll also figure out how to attach a chart to this blog.
So, my goal is to lose fifteen pounds. But my real goal is to recognize the power of communication in setting and achieving that goal. So here goes...
I'm taking an Interpersonal Communications class and we have to set some communication goals. So one of my goals is to lose fifteen pounds. What does that have to do with communication? Well, part of my strategy was to track my weight loss publicly. I was going to put it on our "family" blog, but decided against that, as I don't need endless ribbing. Not that I'd get it, but I've seriously been saying I want to lose weight for the past couple years and I've not done it. So, I'm going to get one of those Nike/Ipod things that go in your shoe and then you get to make a little person who looks kind of like a Mii, but that little person will track my runs and I can attach it to this blog. I have to figure out how to do all this, well I guess I could just ask Steve, but I'd rather try it myself first. Well, technically I guess first I have to get a different Ipod as mine isn't a touch so it's not compatible with the nike thing, and then I have to get the nike thing, but not the nike shoes, because I'm so not a fan of their shoes. But I read you can put the little chip on your shoelace, so that's what i'll try.
A few years back, a buddy and I tracked our running mileage versus our weight and it really encouraged me to want to see the mileage rise and weight fall. So I'll also figure out how to attach a chart to this blog.
So, my goal is to lose fifteen pounds. But my real goal is to recognize the power of communication in setting and achieving that goal. So here goes...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)