Before I post my pictures, I have to tell you about my waffles. I made the first batch of mini waffles this morning from my own mix. The base recipe makes 75 pancakes and slightly fewer waffles. I made it from a recipe in an old restaurant textbook from the 70’s. After I made up the mix, I did the math to determine the measurements for a single portion.
It has powdered eggs and dry whole milk and only needs a half cup of water and a half cup of mix to make a single serving. I’d estimate that the total cost was less than a comparable institutional-sized boxed mix. I now have to vacuum seal the mix with oxygen absorbers and then pack the bags in a dark box for storage.
And on to the art…
Last year I participated in a 100 Paintings in a Year challenge. I started another this year. Last year’s challenge involved 3 by 2-1/2 inch sized watercolors. This year the size is larger —3-1/2 by 3 inches. I set up the same schedule —1 painting every 3 days— as last year.
Paintings 2 through 5. Number 1 must still be in my studio.Numbers 6 though 9Paintings 10 through 14. Missing number 12.
I’m a few paintings behind as I was scheduled for an art exhibit in November rather than January. so I’ve been busy getting ready for that. By getting ready, I mean matting and framing paintings and prints from storage.
The brain is still malfunctioning. I’m going to be going to various Clinics for a couple of evaluations. I’m still having effects from the last concussion. This is longer lasting than prior head bumps. I fallen an additional 6 times since the August head bump.
The only good thing about the last 6 falls (4 in one day and 2 other separate falls) is that I didn’t hit my head again. The bad thing was that I fell again more than once in the same hour. My appointment is for Oct. 4th. I’ve made a list of everything that is going wrong with this aging sack of flesh. What this means is probably more physical therapy, a hearing assessment, a more in depth look at my eyes, and probably another look inside the half-empty box that holds the gelatinous wad of brain cells.
The damned boomerang returned. He called in sick to work yesterday. I hope this isn’t the prelude to another firing. He has medical insurance now. He needs to get his brain sorted. I’m too old for this drama. I’m tempted to sell my house and move into an old folks establishment and I hate old people in spite of being aged.
I screwed up my poll worker schedule. I missed my first ballot box assignment. I forgot to put it on the calendar. I may have confused it with the training date, which I did get to, but my first scheduled work day was two days after that. I also missed the phone call that would have gotten me to the site late. Brain fart alert! I did email and apologize to the supervisor but that was hours later.
The art exhibit coordinator asked me what I was planning to display at my art show in November. I told him I was bringing all my unfinished projects of the last 60 years. That will included a 58-year old unfinished baby sweater, if I can find it, that I started before my daughter was born. I also need to find the unfinished 46-year old sweater that I started when my son was born, as well as hand-knit single socks and mittens from when I was knitting on my commute by car, then bus, to and from work before I retired.
I can’t promise I’ll post more frequently, but I’ll try. Thank you to the few of you who read me.
I have yet another concussion. All my friends have threatened to pool funds to buy me a helmet. It’s been 7 years since the last one when I ended up with 5 staples in my head as well as my first ambulance ride. The ambulance was probably declared a hazardous waste site after they tossed me into the emergency room. Can we spell projectile vomiting?
My brain is still glitching after for almost a month after the head smash. They did a CT scan and didn’t find anything. There may have been a few dust bunnies and I think on the copy in my online record that I saw had a “for rent” in there. Other than some residual dizziness,I’m doing ok. I did need to get new glasses, because we didn’t find them until they were rolled flat by either my car, or my friend’s truck. I hadn’t realized they had flown off my face into the driveway. I thought they had dropped into the grass.
This year I set up a bucket garden on the side of my house so I have to water frequently especially since it’s been so hot lately. Going out to water it after dark was the reason I fell. There are low spots from a rotting stump in the yard and I stepped in one on my way back inside, lost my balance, and rolled down a bit of a slope to bang my head on the driveway pavement.
A couple of neighbors were getting out of their car and saw me fall. They ran over to help me get up and into the house. I spent most of the last few weeks staying home and not going to the makerspace except for scheduled events I couldn’t pass off. Overall, the membership has been okay with me not being there.
I mentioned the heat, but magically, the temperature went lower once I struggled to get the window air conditioner out from behind the pile of belongings my son piled in front of the storage shelf in my garage. I had a friend actually lift the thing into my bedroom window. It’s still warm out, but the ceiling fans work well enough to keep me cool so I haven’t yet turned the ac on.
In other news, I worked the polls for our Primary election. It was my first time doing that. The polling place was a different ward than I vote in, but I had already done in-person absentee voting at the polling place set up in my local library branch. I worked an eight hour shift doing voter verification and reconciling the two copies of the voter books.
I made one numerical error in my book that we couldn’t validate. But overall, it was a good experience. I’ll do better next time. Since I listed my availability as “any polling location,” I’m not certain that I’ll be assigned there again. It was interesting how everything packed up into a wheeled cage. I didn’t stick around to see if the cage was picked up that evening. I had left my dinner in the cooler in back of my car and never got around to eating it until I got home.
It was what I call Garbage Salad.
I take all the leftover fresh vegetables from the weekly shop, chop them up, add a can of some kind of beans, chopped fresh herbs such as basil, parsley, marjoram, some chopped olives, leftover rice, quinoa, or couscous, and vinegar and oil dressing and that’s lunch for the next few days. Sometimes, I add cooked shrimp, chopped ham, chicken, or tuna instead of beans or sometimes even with the beans.
When my son was little, a running joke between us was me telling him when he got rambunctious, to go find a really big stick so I could beat him. Any time I would tell him to go find a stick, he would grin, run outside and find a twig, run in and announce loudly. “Okay, Mom, now you can beat me.”
The neighbors would give us funny looks, but we did it all the time with silly grins on our faces. One day we were at the mall and he was just antsy because he wanted to go get our Friday pizzas and then go home. I was looking for something — I can’t remember what it was. It’s been over 40 years since this happened.
He kept whining at me, so I told him if he didn’t behave, I’d send him to find a big stick. What I hadn’t paid attention to was the workers outside the store trimming trees. So my son disappeared from the store and a little bit later, he came in, dragging a branch three time times his height. In the loudest voice he had, he yelled, “hey mom! Is this a big enough branch to beat me with?”
Every head in the store turned toward this little boy standing in the doorway with the chunk of tree, grinning his head off. Then they all turned to me as I walked toward him. I pointed out that we were both laughing and no one needed to call CPS. He dragged the branch back outside, still laughing.
Every so often, if he tells me he messed up somehow, I still tell to go find a really big stick so I can beat him.
That’s rarely a good thing. I am very low contact with my siblings. They are all younger than me, and in my opinion, are not that good for me mentally. We were all raised by the person I generally refer to as “the crazy lady,” our mother. She ultimately was diagnosed as “schizophrenic with delusions of grandeur.”
That didn’t really help me, who is probably just as nuts, but in a different way. I spent my time in the womb, nutritionally deprived because the crazy lady didn’t want to be “fat.” Her words, not mine. When she would get angry with me, even after seven other kids, she would pull up her shirt to show me her stretch marks and blame them on me.
I spent the first month of my life in a 1940’s style incubator, practically untouched except for necessary care. (Question: have you read this before? I lose track.) I was rarely held during feeding. The bottle was propped next to my head on a pillow. I know this because all of us were fed that way. It’s a wonder none of us choked.
I still have problems with being touched. I can do a handshake, but I really don’r want to be hugged. Sometimes I do accept hugs but unless it’s a hug from a small child, I tend to stiffen up. It’s not that noticeable to people I have some sort of relationship with, but I get really tense when strangers or acquaintances want a hug.
Don’t try to analyze me. I already know the sources of my quirks. I fight most of them every day. I’m just weird that way.
After high school, I got my first ever job as a collar pointer and hood turner in a coat factory. That lasted three whole weeks. I did alright with the poplin and cotton coats until the wool can out. Unfortunately, the fibers generated by cutting the wool pattern pieces with a huge bandsaw triggered a dormant wool allergy and caused breathing problems.
In college, I worked food service and for the Dean’s office. Also while in college, I learned what a nasty place a nursing home can be. Islso worked in the town library and Historical Museum — it’s amazing what winds up in there. Civil War uniforms, founding daughter’s doll collection, commemorative plates and weird artifacts found around town and brought back by travelers were all arranged in a little tiny room
I worked for a major corporation and got fired for telling off my supervisor. He was fired after a few more complaints from other female workers. This was in the ‘70s when sexism was rampant. To be honest, I did not fit in with the corporate environment. I wanted to talk theater and music, they were all sales and profits.
My next and best job was as a cook for a daycare center. According to some of the parents, the toddlers wouldn’t eat breakfast at home because what I made them was better than eating at home. I even had a few reports of picky eaters gaining weight due to my cooking.
The Director fired me because I asked for a raise. Of the 50 kids I was cooking for, 20 were pulled by their parents because the quality of the food declined and kids refused to eat. I went in to pick up my things, including my cookbook and wound up calling the Health Department on my replacement because he was cooking for MY kids with a cigarette in his mouth. That was in 1972
My next job was two years later working on a military base at the post exchange on the register and unloading trucks. That lasted 2 years until I took the Civil Service exam for a Federal job, also on base, working the phone for base and housing maintenance.
Concurrently with that job, I did a part-time job with K-Mart in the automotive department. Since this was pre-digital age, we had books to look up the replacement parts for the major brands. Yet somehow, men would wander all over the store to find a guy to help them find spark plugs and wiper blades, rather than accept that I could look in the same books they could use.
I spent the next few years being a stay-at-home mom until my marriage went to crap. Then in 1983, I started working at a chain store as a cashier and department lead. In 1984, I got a job working for the university in campus libraries, processing book orders and later working as a student supervisor. I retired from campus in 2011.
A couple of years later, I worked part-time for the state revenue service between January and June, processing tax returns. I did that for a couple of years. But now, I just have an almost full-time volunteer position at a local maker space. I find it way more satisfying than any paid position.
If I need extra income, I can teach classes in the things I know how to do with equipment already in the space. I usually only charge aa bit more than the cost of supplies per student, except for kids’ classes. Those are usually only $10 per child up to age 15. 16 year-olds are eligible for membership if a parent is also a member so I generally just charge them the cost of supplies or $25.
Sticking close to home since the cost of gas is so high. But I’ve finished a couple of projects.
Lucy Furr, Attorney-at-law
Miss Lucy Furr will be part of my art show in November along with her companion, Kitty Karlyle, a former game show panelist. She likes wine, maybe a bit too much.
Miss Kitty Karlyle
I’ve done few paintings as well and need to get caught up on my new 100 paintings project. I’m way behind, I think. I need to count what I’ve completed.
I need to move stuff back into my craft room from my studio now that I moved the Boomerang Child out. He still has a bed here but not a room. Since he is employed, he can save up for his own place and get his stuff out of my garage so I can get to the yard tools and put my car away.
I finally replaced the water softener. The plumber called this morning and asked if I was available for the install. I thought they had forgotten. So the last of the home equity money is done. I can wait until fall to get a new dryer. I hang clothes on the line until late fall.
In car news, I spent way too much money after a little accident caused by being run up onto a curb. It was the only way to avoid being hit by a car that ran a light. Now I have a different problem— the rear driver-side window is inside the door. I’m back to plastic and duct tape until next week. I didn’t even have to tell Mike my name, I just asked what Kia he thought had a new problem.
I think I need to just take the bus. This past Wednesday, I had a re-check at the Orthodontist. Not a problem. Except it turned out to be a problem. First I took a wrong turn because I misread the map. Once I got going the correct way and was going down the off-ramp, I was forced to the right by a car that ran the yellow and forced me to move too far to the right to avoid having another insurance claim.
I was closer to the right side that I thought and ran up the curb and then dropped back down to the road. I continued on to my appointment without hearing that particular sound that a flat tire would make. When I came out and started the car, I got a low tire pressure warning light. I walked around the car to get to the air gauge in the glove box, looked down at at the tire and realized I didn’t need the gauge. Called for a tow and called the shop that services my car to tell them the car would be on the lot when they arrived in the morning.
I let the folks at the reception desk know I was outside waiting for a tow in case anyone mentioned someone was just sitting in the parking lot. I had to wait an hour for the tow and had the car towed to my regular repair shop. It was still open so I was able to drop the key inside and tell them what happened.
I’m still waiting for the car to be done. There were six cars already on the lot for service this morning. I did get a call yesterday saying they are changing both front tires so they’re the same. I told them no rush, so I guess they’ll call me this afternoon.
I had the dubious pleasure of using our new and improved (not!) transit system to go to the makerspace for a meeting. I missed my transfer connection by 3 minutes because the connecting bus was running early. I texted one of the members to meet me on at a corner at the bottom of the hill. They showed up very quickly. After the meeting they brought me home.
What a mess. If I had kept my Saturn, this would never have happened because I’d be on a different timeline. 😂😂😂
I recently read an article on a site called Bored Panda about a woman who spent $500 on groceries for seven people. I don’t know how long she expects that to last. However, there was very little that was what most people consider healthy. At this point in time, my assumption is that the healthy food has increased too much in price. She did mention a garden which is supplementing what they eat.
All kinds of people are making comments about her choices. From my perspective, her grocery haul was not very nutritious, but I can’t judge her. She has to buy what the family will eat. She works full time, and presumably her husband also works full time. They have parents living with them as well as three growing boys. She has to make choices. The article mentions that some foods were left off the list because it wasn’t time to replace them.
I recently spent $200 at the grocery store. I was replacing items from my Covid stash which I have maintained since 2020. I’ve spent similar the last couple of months. It’s my fall-back stash. Usually it’s just for me, but my unemployed son is now occupying space and eating my food. Most of my stash is ingredients but I have a few canned soups and foods like canned hash and chili. My freezer is full with the meats I get from the mark-down bin, as well as 99 cent frozen veggies.
I make a lot soups and stews and dishes that can be eaten over a period of days. It goes back to the days when even though I was working, I could pay rent, electricity, and bus fare, but not buy enough food for a week and what I did buy got stretched to two or more.
Many of my co-workers thought I was on a diet because lunch consisted of a container of cut carrots and celery with a little blue cheese or ranch dressing. Little did they know I couldn’t afford lunches out and I wasn’t going to bring beans and rice five days in a row. My apartment included a washer and dryer so money for laundry wasn’t an issue although there have been times in the past when clothes were washed in the bathtub and hung on hangers on the shower bar.
Right now, I consider myself well-off, not like the folks with lots of money, more like someone who can put some money in savings, buy craft supplies, and pay what’s needed to maintain my house and car. So that’s why I say I’m well off. I can buy extras. It won’t last. I live on savings, retirement, and Social Security. Eventually it will all run out. That’s what the food stash is for.
Has someone ever apologized to you in a way that made you feel worse? You know the one — “I’m sorry you feel that what I did…” I hate those non-apologies.
When issues are brought up, instead of apologizing for the hurt and changing the behavior that was pointed out, the offender puts the burden of the apology upon the person who brought it up.
I will go into semantics here: “I’m sorry for my actions” is different from “I’m sorry that you felt my actions were ______” — one puts the burden of apology on the apologizer’s shoulders and the other shunts blame onto the person you are apologizing to.
“I’m sorry that you felt my actions were ______” is not a true apology. And sometimes this nuance is lost on folks. It’s natural to be defensive because the action was not meant to be offensive and you don’t want to be seen as a bad person. But here’s the thing— seeing the incident as coloring your whole person and then defending yourself is not the correct action.
You are entitled to your opinions and reaction, but often times the reaction seems to be on the side of ignoring what the other party said and continuing to do the action the same way. The inability to see how your actions may have hurt others and the refusal to change or adapt your approach to make less pain for others is the real problem.
I’ve done this and then felt bad about how I said things as apologies. Sometimes I am able to re-do the apology by saying, “that came out wrong.” But many times, the person is so hurt by my failure to take responsibility, that it’s the end of a friendship or working relationship.
This came up because I was cleaning out files and found some conversations and documents from an incident that happened a few years ago.
A member of an organization I was a member of, decided that my bookkeeping should be audited because when I took over treasurer duties, I corrected the way the books were done. Previous treasurers who had no training or experience with bookkeeping software, were keeping the records from the date of the board meeting to the day of the next meeting.
I had two previous jobs where I was allowed budgets for payroll and book repair. I had to track expenditures and file reports. I was also treasurer for a social organization. In all these situations, I kept meticulous records.
So the first thing I did when I became Treasurer for the other organization was to go through the software and set up the account from the first of the month to that last day. One of the members set up an audit with an accounting firm. The organization paid the bill, but the member was not happy that the accountant only recommended that the utilities be separated out for better tracking.
That’s where the “apology” came in. The person pulled a similar apology for something they did at a different time and as far as I know, they are no longer a member of the organization.
