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Monthly Archives: February 2013

A Slice of Cherry Pie


Cherry pie

Cherry pie (Photo credit: Nat Tarbox)

I am so happy to be indoors on this cold day.  There is an icy rain pounding against the window, the sound lulling me into a comforting sense of well-being.  I’m in my house, dry, cozy, braless, and warm.

Its Saturday, and even though I am retired, Saturday and Sunday allow me to do nothing without guilt inserting itself into my joy of occasionally doing nothing. That’s right nothing, nothing at all.  No chores, no exercise, no company, no visiting, no stores, no, not even answering the phone.  Its Saturday and I’ll only do what I feel like doing.  Which brings me to my slice of Cherry Pie.

We are nearing the end of President’s Week.  Abe and George no longer get their individual acknowledgements.  I think that’s a shame, but it is what it is.  Hence we have President’s week, which is marked with sales.  All kinds of sales, appliances, televisions, furniture, computers, every conceivable necessary, non-necessity, of the American Way of Life.  But I’m not going shopping today, it’s a rainy Saturday.

One other thing that marks President’s Week is Cherry Pie.  George Washington is the reason we eat Cherry Pie,  particularly this week.  For those who don’t recall, George was only a young boy when he chopped down that cherry tree.  When asked about it he replied, “I cannot tell a lie.  I chopped down the cherry tree.”  No wonder he became our first President.  What integrity!

I don’t know if that is historically correct, but it was a story that was told to every child when studying about the Father of our Country.  I wonder if that account is still in the elementary school history books?  But I digress.

Despite the fact that my scale warned that I was a half pound up this morning, I kept to the happy ritual of treating myself well on a cozy, stay in the house day.  I got up off the couch, marched into the kitchen and cut a tasty, tart, slice of Cherry Pie.  The pastry shell was just flaky enough, the Cherries not too mushy, there was the exact right amount of syrup, cooked to the perfect consistency allowing it to only ooze not run out of the pie wedge.  It pleased most of my senses, visual, scent, and especially taste, This and a hot cup of coffee, whose got it better than me?

Thanks George for chopping down that Cherry Tree.

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Posted by on February 23, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Can Daffodils Be Far Behind?


Daffodils

Daffodils (Photo credit: tejvanphotos)

Snow, snow, snow, everywhere I look there are piles of snow.  Some are still pristine, sparkling with that diamond like shimmer of ice.  Still untouched by footprints or dusted with a fine layer of soot from hard puffing chimneys it gleams with purity.

Other drifts are packed down by plows that eventually came chugging down my street.  These uneven mounds are coated with black asphalt and road grime that came up with the efforts of the plow.  This snow looks sad and ugly.  Its time for it to melt away and take the dirt with it.

I must admit, now, in the midst of February, I do rejoice in the sun coming through the window.  Even though the thermometer says its 33 degrees, the sun warms my face. I hear the Pitchers and Catchers have reported for training in Tampa.  Spring is on the way.

There is nothing like four distinct seasons.  I look forward to each one with their promise of change and new adventure. Each of them boasts their own highlight and dispel any boredom I might have as their predecessor trails away leaving only the good memories.

As I tap away on this laptop it is easy to glance out the North window.  Right up against the stockade fence I see three green fronds popping up through the ice crystal snow.  Can the Daffodils be far behind?

 
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Posted by on February 17, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Tattered Lingerie


Panties For Peace

Panties For Peace (Photo credit: divid3d)

It is sometimes difficult to decide whether I am oblivious, or down right cheap when it comes to discarding lingerie that is long past its prime.  The problem recently came to my attention causing me to ponder.

This is the time of the year when I am continuously going through closets and drawers to find items to donate or discard.  Probably the most boring, for me, is the lingerie. These are never put in the donation bag, but you can be appalled by what you find in this drawer to toss in the trash.

When you don your under clothing it is usually under your clothes.  Most often no one sees it unless you are going to the Doctor, or, if it’s a lucky night, hanging with a significant other.  Perhaps another exception is when you are shopping for new clothes and will be trying on different items. What if you need to ask a sales person to zip you up and you were wearing something less than your best draws?   Aside from those occasions, your panties, bras and other intimate apparel is for your eyes only.

Expensive silk, satin, lace, is saved for special events.  That’s why, more often than not, it remains in the underwear drawer for a long time between uses.  These items can last years because of infrequency of use and washes.  (Washing wears out your fragiles) But when the elastic and lace dry out, a pair of panties just gives up.  Holes suddenly appear in the lace and a fingernail can poke right through the silk when you pull them up.  Just like panty hose or stockings.

Every day comfy panties also manage to get holes, but that is from the multiple machine washings.  They get thrown out after about the fourth wearing when sporting a damage. That’s about the time you start worrying that you might get into an accident, have to go to the hospital, or  morgue, and a stranger will see the holes in your underwear.  Didn’t your mother warn about such a happening?

Old bras have their downside as well as up.  The upside is that they are stretched out. It feels like you are wearing an undershirt.  While they no longer give you support, wearing the old worn bra allows you the privilege of running to the store while technically still properly encased.  Downside, the darn underwires work their way to the underarm end, poke through the material, and stab you at the most inappropriate times.  They can even work themselves half way out the rip hole before you can get behind closed doors to adjust it.  Never mind a lace bra so old that your nipples wear a hole dead center.  Talk about annoying!

I have many more laments regarding tattered underwear, but for now I will leave you with the admonishment – Go through those drawers more often and discard the old warriors.

 

 

 
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Posted by on February 4, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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