Roomie and I return from a short trip the other day, and were met by a cat outside the back gate. We already have a cat. She doesn’t play well with others. Or us.
HOWEVER, THIS new cat was friendly and welcomed affection. She appeared to be well cared for, and either had recently had surgery or given birth. (this due to the appearance of a floppy undercarriage.) We opted not to feed and water her, lest she stay and disrupt the ecosystem of our home.
AND, she’s more likely to go home if we don’t offer treats.
So much for THAT idea!
She’s been hanging around outside, making the inside cat VERY upset. There have been a few faux battles – save the Arcadia door glass in the way. Lots of yowling and hissing from the indoor car. And, the girl chihuahua treed her in the back yard, barking viciously the entire time. (As vicious as a chihuahua can be, under the circumstances.)
Roomie keeps making noises about getting a kitten. Considering the indoor car is clamoring for more attention and acting more lovable in the outdoor cats presence, this could happen.
If the girl chihuahua doesn’t stroke out, first. The boy chihuahua is just a big stupid lummox who doesn’t care as long as he gets food and attention.
For better or worse, the interloper stayed two days and then apparently went home.
h/t Warner Bros.
The Silicon Graybeard (and many others on the ‘Net) reminded me tonight is the 50th anniversary of the Beatles performing on Ed Sullivan. Their big American break.
A real snooze for me.
1) I was into classical music – popular music (like Rock and Roll) just didn’t do it for me. And, I had memories of my Dad ranting about Elvis (and my Sister, the Bobby Soxer, fawning over him) years earlier.
2) My Dad’s rant continued regarding The Beatles long hair. “Unkempt, unclean, like a beatnik”, etc.
AND 3) (most important) being a 6th Grader, I was extremely jealous of the 6th Grade girls fawning all over these British invaders! What was so special about them, anyway?
Of course, regardless of my and other Dad’s rants, they went on to super stardom and changing the face of music forever.
Used to be there was a derisive term for classical music – longhair music. Obviously that went out of favor!
My good friend Old NFO discussed this most recent of ‘infamous’ drug deaths. I was reminded of the PBS Series on JAZZ. They’d mention some historic jazz figure, and then, more often than not came this line:
…and then, they died of an overdose…
Is it the artistic personality, fame, fortune or humanity which binds all these folks together? Are we all, at our core, addicts of some sort? (Wikipedia – List of Drug/Alcohol related deaths)
I come rife with an addictive personality. I have excess weight, due to compulsive overeating. I’m neurotic, but not particularly artistic. My real mother died when I was in grade school as a direct result of her cigarette addiction. She had emphysema. ( I remember her turning off the oxygen tank and lighting up!) My father was an alcoholic, ate too much and smoked cigars. I come by my addictions honestly. Even though I’m getting ‘help’ for my addictions, in all seriousness, I don’t expect to see 85, like my maternal grandfather did. My fraternal grandfather made it to 68. My own father to 61.
Today is my daughter’s birthday. She would have been 31. Auto accident, age 12.
At least it wasn’t drugs or alcohol.
Back-in-the-day, when I was gainfully employed and less disabled, I worked as a fraud investigator for (T)hat (M)ajor (C)redit (C)ard (C)ompany – aka TMCCC for short. I also worked part time at a local firearms emporium for a couple years.
This usually consisted of a couple hours on a weekday afternoon (after TMCCC) and Saturdays, 10 – 5. It was great fun, I learned a lot, and met many nice folks. And a few @$$h013$ !
On Saturdays, a retired car-dealership owner from Colorado would come in, bearing day-old doughnuts, and his custom holster making skills. (I have three! A field holster and IWB holster for N Frame Smiths (Seriously) and an IWB for Browning High-Power!) Later on, like Noon or 1 PM, the store manager would buy a few pizzas for the staff.
And the hangers-on.
The hangers-on were called ‘the GOBs’, which stood for good-old-boys. These consisted of a couple retired cops, a preacher or two, some hunters, a retired fireman, teachers, a prosecutor, a prison psychiatrist, and a few out-of-work gun shop guys. All of whom felt they could offer free advice to customers.
Which was sometimes incorrect and sometimes not welcomed!
But, we at the shop put up with them. Why. Because of the comradery they brought, their knowledge and friendship.
And because they were mostly armed and acted as defacto security guards for free. Well, not free. For donuts and pizza!
And, they were regular customers, sometimes buying outright, sometimes on layaway.
With my crummy car, I don’t get across town as much as I’d like, as a result I don’t get to see the GOBs as much as I’d like.
I miss them.
Today is my Big Bro’s Birthday! Happy Birthday, Joe!
As he is 12 years my senior, we never bonded as siblings very much. My Dad married my Stepmother and we moved into her house with her almost grown children. (I’ve also a stepsister, Karen, who lives with her retired Army LTC in Alaska. I’ve written of him in these pages.)
He, much like my Father was, is a sports nut. I don’t think he’s as obsessed as my Father was, though. He’s always kept in shape, and looks great considering his age. I’m certain that’s because he still plays sports and is very active. He spends Summers back in Illinois at a relative’s place ‘working the farm’.
Not exactly a Summer a couch-potato like myself aspires to!
He followed his Mother into elementary education, and retired a few years ago after years of teaching the 6th Grade, predominately Math. Had to have been a labor of love, right?
I’ll always be grateful to him. When we moved into my Stepmother’s home, everyone had to double-up. My sister’s shared a room, and my brother and I shared a room. As a newly-minted Third Grader I liked it. I cannot image my college man brother appreciating it, though!
But, he never complained, at least to me. We spent many a Friday night watching TV together (Friday Night in 1960-61 was replete with Westerns!) and sharing a bag of potato chips.
And he spent many of the past twenty years caring for his mother in her declining years. I admire him for his selflessness.
Happy Birthday, Joe!
Tonight is New Year’s Eve! (for those who just crawled out from under a rock where there was no Wi-Fi.)
The traditional celebration of the passing of the previous year, and the birth of the new. Along with fond remembrance of times past. This usually involves food and sometimes libations.
Please be careful out there, and if you drink, don’t drive (or text or phone!) And watch out for those who have.
And take a moment to remember those who are no longer with you. And love those who remain.
Because you never know…
(courtesy of The Feral Irishman) I wish I had THIS Elf On The Shelf!
And lest we forget those who gave us the gift of their full measure of their devotion…
Actually, they were assembled by yours truly, in a couple hours standing at the iron skillet, Worcestershire, Blue Bonnet margarine and garlic powder at-the-ready. Then slow baked until dry and toasty.
(For the uninitiated, this is a snack I’ve made traditionally for years. Originally, I made standard Chex Mix, with the requisite addition of peanuts, pretzels and the like. With a tablespoon of this, a dash of that. I determined two things – people singled out the Pepperidge Farm Goldfish Crackers for consumption so the other ingredients were wasted, and screw this tablespoon-dash thing!)
I cover roughly 9/10 of the bottom of the skillet with Worcestershire, add 1/2 a stick of margarine, and sprinkle garlic powder generously. Then marinate a pan full of crackers until they soak it all up. Transfer all to a turkey roasting pan and bake @ 300* or so, turning every 10 minutes of so to check for burning, until they are all dry and crispy. (I use Blue Bonnet because it’s cheap and takes the high heat.)
I used to make these in massive quantities for Christmas when I was employed and bring them into work. It became such a tradition that folks would start asking me in September if I was bringing in goldfish that year!
Consumer Warning – they are QUITE addictive and go great with beer! People consuming these snacks needn’t be concerned they will be molested by vampires, or members of the opposite sex. (Unless they, too, have partaken of the garlicky treats!)
FTC – neither Blue Bonnet, French’s Worcestershire, Pepperidge Farm Crackers or anyone else gave me anything! I bought and assembled it all myself. Go make your own – and Merry Christmas!
(JUST TO BE CLEAR – not the act of giving thanks, but the whole holiday meme, thank you very much!…)
It all started when I was a tyke. My Mother had the audacity to give birth to me in late November! So my birthday often falls on-or-around Thanksgiving.
When I was younger, this meant friends and relatives got together
two three times in November, my birthday, turkey day and my Father’s birthday – which is eight days before mine.
THEN, someone decided to meld the birthday’s and holidays, to make it easier on everyone. Of course, this usually meant turkey and all the trimmings for my birthday.
I loathe turkey! I wasn’t particularly fond on being the only child in a mass of dysfunctional adults, either! I DO like pumpkin pie, but I also like birthday cake, too. And some of the relatives.
So, you see the problem.
Fortunately, when I got older (much older, after I stopped working on holidays and some of the dysfunctional folks were absent) I could start my own
Thanksgiving birthday traditions.
This year, in spite of a number of polite invitations – including a vegan Thanksgiving – I had salad with Italian dressing, pepperoni pizza, and cheesecake. MMMMMMMM! In some past years I’ve made lasagna!
I hope you enjoyed whatever tripped-your-trigger last Thursday. I gave thanks for friends, family, this Constitutional Republic and no turkey.
Now comes the rapid downhill slide until Christmas…
(Insert your own Bah! Humbug! here, if you desire…)
I’ve always loved Halloween.
From my own childhood as a pirate, or a hobo; a cowboy or a secret agent…it meant getting to be out of the house at night, after dark, extorting goodies from neighbors and even houses far away. Homemade popcorn balls, cookies and caramel apples sometimes weighed down the trick-or-treat bags of commercial candy though. (As if this were a problem!)
It was ‘safe’, in the 50s and 60s.
Then, not long after my Man-From-Uncle/James Bond excursion into the night air, I was too old. :-(
I didn’t go out trick-or-treating again for many years, when I accompanied my daughter Molly. I remember a number of years of fairy princesses followed by ballerinas – Molly had started taking dance lessons.
Guffaw’s Rule of Weather (in Phoenix) – It never really ‘cools off’ until Halloween. People have short memories from the previous years, and think when it reaches October it means cooler weather. Not necessarily so.
I remember one Halloween escorting young Molly door-to-door, resplendent in her costume, covered by my insulated Ike jacket. It was something like 45 degrees, breezy and humid. The drill was I was to wait on the sidewalk and remove the jacket while she raced all sparkley to the next front door, rang the bell, got candy, then raced back to the jacket I warmed up until her next house! Next house after next house… GEEZ, it was cold!
Then, she had gotten old enough she no longer wanted an escort, and good enough with her Mom’s sewing machine to make her own costume – Jean Grey from X-Men. Did her own makeup, too! She and her best friend had been making a killing buying, trading and selling X-Men comics at school.
My daughter – the 6th Grade capitalist entrepreneur!
She would have probably had another year before she was too old, but Jean Grey was to be her last.
You made a terrific Jean Grey - Happy Halloween, Molly!
Remember to hug those close to you and tell them you love them, because you never know.