Archive | November, 2017

Frankenstein

10 Nov

Way back on October 21st, I did something creative to my left foot during our church’s Colonial Fair.

I ignored it for a while, assuming (and you know where that gets us) that it was muscle strain. The Squire finally got tired of seeing me limp, and hearing me gasp and groan, and made an appointment for me with the podiatrist.  So yesterday afternoon we sallied off to the office.

I have a stress fracture. Lovely. I am clomping around the house in a surgical boot, and bear a strong resemblance to Frankenstein’s monster.

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I’m From the Government. . .

8 Nov

.  . .and I’m here to help you.

The Squire and I have been getting bread through Panera’s “Dough-nation” program for about ten years.  This bread has been given to two different food pantries, who give it to people in need in Harford County.

This afternoon we received a phone call from one organization, saying a government inspector had come to their place this morning and told them to cease and desist. All bread given out must be in bags (which it is) and labeled with the ingredients – which Artisan bread never is. The Gummit says we might be open for all sorts of problems if somebody is allergic to any of the things we give out.

You know what I think? President and Mrs. Obama were instrumental in getting restaurants and bakeries to donate left over foodstuffs, as well as encouraging schools to give students nutritional meals.  All of these programs are being dismantled by a certain Tangerine Tornado who is obsessed with destroying that legacy.

Recipe Roulette

5 Nov

The Squire suggest we have mac and cheese for dinner. Once I put on a pot of water we discovered there was not enough elbow macaroni, not nearly enough pepper jack cheese, and we were short on milk. Apparently, all we had enough of was cheddar.

We substituted rigatoni for the elbow noodles, added cauliflower to make up the difference, and just went with what we had.  For a hot game of roulette it wasn’t too bad.

As Bad as People

2 Nov

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI use milk cartons to hold my clothes pins on the line. They are free, easy to obtain, and recyclable.  People who know me understand all of these things.

This morning two of our squirrels got into a raging fist fight, chasing each other all over the yard, and up and down the trees. They ended in a large oak tree beside the carport, and from there out across the clothesline. One of them hopped into one of my milk carton-cum-clothes pin holder, and the other jumped into the one beside it.  They continue their slug fest from these perches until one of the handles broke, and the squirrel fell onto the grass.

The other sat in his little sky-bucket and yelled “nanner-nanner”.

I swear, I couldn’t possibly make this up.

More Dead People

1 Nov

Hail, hail, the gang’s all here!

First of all, I was digging up a bunch of peanuts under the clothesline. Such a tiny plant, but there were hundreds of peanuts under it. I carried them into the house by making a basket of my skirt and was planning to put them in my sink, but my mother pitched a fit, and wouldn’t allow me to do so. “And look at your clothes! They’re a mess. Honestly, you can never do anything right.”

Even in my dreams she fusses with me!

Then I ended up in our own church, and my dad was saying Mass, accompanied by my sister, of all people, as his chalicist.  One of our daughters came in and sat beside me, and called me by the name my mum always used. I glared at her (I don’t know what girl is was) and she apologized. “They’ve saying that all day, and I forgot.”

Of all the characters in this little melodrama, only my daughter is still alive. This is the second time I’ve had this sort of dream, and – as I said before – I’m not making any long-term plans.

This is just plain creepy!