Household Haiku

My sleep is delayed.
This brain just starts its churning
Writing more haikus.

Coyotes howl outside,
Sing to the moon, to their pack
Of who rules this night.

I live with two men
A small dog, a huge clutter,
And bunches of love.

I don’t read enough.   
One whole room is library.
TV’s just too loud.

My new Kindle sucks,
Holds thousands of books inside
But none I can find.

The morrow brings tasks.
I start them now in my mind
So I won’t forget.

Hours crawl by, awake
Turn and twist to ease a pain
Finding it elsewhere.

Addictive, this thing,
Counting out five seven five:
Which words are the fit?   

A Little Year End Haiku

 There is a blog I follow, one particular one of several, and his year-end tradition has captured my imagination. The blog is not for everybody, being both strongly political and full of language my parents would have washed my mouth out with soap for using had I even heard, known or used those words. For the curious, brave, and/or foolhardy, it's Rudepundit.blogspot.com.

The tradition? Haiku. He invites everyone to create haiku saying something they really need to say about the past year. He then chooses bunches to print. So far this year he's got two pages of them published, and he tends to keep going when he likes the submissions. He's fussy about the exact 5 - 7 - 5 syllable rule, not about the content except that it says something about the year. Each of the last few years I've thought for a few minutes and come up with three, my apparent limit. He has published a couple. Following are mine from this year, helping me say sayonara to another troubled year. Maybe you can give it a try.

Bad Math

The wrong kind of math
Says black lives can’t matter when
Others matter too.

Freedumb

Freedumb! No vaxxing.
No microchips in my arm.
They’ll stay in my phone.

Grandchild

A new baby breathes.
My planet just keeps dying.
I must smile and cry.

Transitioning - Ending One Year, Working Onward

Changes are in the wind. Some good, some not so much, some to be determined.

First, the dog is slowly getting better. Around the house she's mostly a 4-legged creature now, unless she's in a hurry or just in from outside. Her pills course has finished, and I suppose I can throw out "The Cone" any time I find a reason to reach around behind my chair and pick it up off the floor. Of course when I see it I'm otherwise occupied, and when I'm not, I don't see it to remind me. At least it's doing no harm. Well, unless you call making a prime spot for stopping the drift of dog hair and clumping it doing some harm.

I've been taking over some of the club duties that our outgoing President has apparently abandoned. It's only a matter of a few days now, and she hasn't complained that she's feeling supplanted or pushed aside early or anything. She's also not seeming to be offering advice or much in the way of assistance, as if the mantle passes seamlessly. I have been in the club longer than she has, even on the board longer, and there are times I hold more of the memories of "long ago" events. Several things fell thorough the cracks with the last transition and I'm working on picking up the pieces from those. This new position does have different responsibilities.

For example, a form didn't get filled out last year so a meeting room wasn't reserved for our Board meetings. We've had to cram ourselves into the club's space instead, though the pandemic has pretty much made that a moot point. It's not like the club has been crowded lately. Tuesday however I decided to check with the rec center staff - after finding out who was the right person - to determine whether we are back on that meeting room schedule for use with the new Calendar year. There was good news and bad news. No, not for board meetings. So our outgoing president will be checking it out with the corporation to find out why not. (Assuming she remembers. She also has a busy personal calendar the next couple weeks, including family visiting and jury duty.) But the good news is I now know which of the large meeting rooms we have reserved for our general membership meetings, with potlucks. We have part of a huge room with dividers, and now are given half the space we filled two years ago. We aren't likely to be over-stuffed there with covid still running amok. Between border issues, flying issues, lots of "aging out" where member's have to return to their "summer" states with a spouse who needs constant care and thus extended family around, the club attendance is still fairly low. One couple from the UK has the added issue of being allowed even less time here, and now needing a negative covid test the day before they fly. Not all places both have tests available for everybody and can get results back that quickly, not to mention that not being Americans, they have to pay for their own tests. No insurance coverage over here. We hope they can return here in a couple months again, but who knows?

I'm still fighting the club computer. It's a PC, uses Microsoft and G-mail. I'm still a dedicated MacBook user, and my email got folded over into Yahoo. Same address, just picked up by Yahoo. While a couple of our members are doing a great job of showing me through the steps, some more helpful than others, it's a slog. I just think I've got it, and then forget to write it down in "Heather speak", so by the next day when I want to repeat what I just "learned" I'm blank. If I can fight past the blank, I might know the following step, so it's not a total loss, Imagine it as like forgetting how to open the door before you can take the dog outside. Once outside the rest flows. So to speak. Unless maybe it rains or something.

Mostly I'm trying to send out club-wide emails with schedules and announcements. At this point they involved generating them at home, emailing them to the club, and then recreating them on the club computer. For one thing, nobody yet has found what's so simple on my laptop: hitting "foreward" by clicking on an arrow at the bottom of the received email. Perhaps G-mail doesn't have it? Perhaps it's a Microsoft thing? Who knows?  All-text isn't hard, just highlight and copy-paste. Of course, at home I can go into the edit toolbar and locate the words for those functions. At the club, highlighting is the first hurdle. Then maintaining it while taking the next step in the next hurdle. That's a different kind of mouse click, and I don't do "mouse". Left Click? Right click? Click and hold? Double click and if so which side? I have a mouse pad right in my laptop at home, and frequently find myself pushing my fingers around on the top of the wooden desk at the club in front of their keyboard to move the cursor. Pretty pointless.

Even the people training me on the computer can't do it without a lot of fiddling around, finding it (by accident?) and result in not being sure just what to teach me to do. The final steps, copy and paste, are the same (long version) method as before, control c and control v. Or is it command c and v? (My fingers know at home, my brain not so much.) I love just clicking on "edit" and scrolling down the drop-down menu  for the right words.

My goal for club emails includes photos. We offer lots of workshops through each month. These are posted with sign-up slips on a wall calendar in the club. You have to show up to know what is being offered. Often just a name of the project is written down, and you kind of have to know the name to decide whether you need to learn it. If you haven't done it you don't know the name. If you recognize the name chances are really good you've already taken the workshop, though sometimes with our memories, not a guarantee. It's not often helpful. So I've been asking people teaching to tape a sample of the end result (always optimistically hoping that the learner can produce what the teacher offers to teach) to the board next to the sign-up slip. Then I bring my camera and take a good enough photo that people get the general idea. Or don't because I got too close for good focus and have to go back and take another shot.

It goes like this - or is supposed to. They post it with details. I come with my camera, shoot item and signup sheet with details so I have a record of them together. I download that to my photo library, crop to much smaller size, add to an email with the details now in text next to photo, and send back to club. Then I go back to club, pull up mail program, and start fighting the cascading problems that arise in trying to translate all this into a form in a brand new email that can be mailed out to the club membership. (Rich says I need to convert photos to a ping file, or something. Just one of my issues.) The members then read their email (you'd think, right? Hah!), pick what they like, come to the club and sign up. THEN they remember to show up at the day and time.

I can only do my part of the process, and so far it's all text only, originated at the club. I'm slowly finding my way through what the problems are. Solutions .... well, hopefully soon. I'd love it to be text with all the details at the top, with a series of small pictures going across the bottom, perhaps in double rows, just a name to identify each. That would cover the month.  Of course, if I do it that way, I'd be counting on the members to actually save that email long enough to remember what they wanted to learn, and to have it to remind them when it's being held. Maybe two weeks worth is a better idea. 

Please do not think I'm denigrating my fellow club members. On the contrary, some of them actually have lives outside club fun: doctor's appointments, church, shopping, visitors who love our winters, other clubs, exercise in the pools and gyms, golf, bocce, or pickle ball games, funerals, home renovations, traveling....

*     *     *

Home has been peaceful for a while now. All the new jewelry I've been making has either gone to the club or been sent out as presents. The two workshops I taught this month are over, and I've no plans for either activity for January. I've been ordering a few new supplies for my next projects while not devoting anything near the previous time these last two weeks to doing them. 

The tree still stands, doesn't get plugged in as often. Steve still struggles with back and knee pain but is using his TENS unit and getting some relief. Well, except for days like today when he says it hurts too much to bother with it. (?!?) I'm still working on getting him to order rechargeable batteries with a charger. It'll happen. Rich is making very slow progress at bringing order to the chaos of his living space, but he's run into issues. They (were) called friends. Right now we'll settle for calling them visitors, and are hoping for much, much less of them.

They aren't just a time suck, preventing things getting done. They've been bringing their own problems and making them ours. Let's start small. Cigarette butts can't make it into ashtrays, despite repeated reminders. The person mostly responsible for that - and deliberately, stubbornly so - is also bringing alcohol and pot along, leaving the trash here. At least pot is legal in the state now, so we don't need to worry about that, but it's still unnecessary trash. She's also bringing drama now, and that we really don't welcome.

Let's start with her being scizophrenic, and having long bouts of refusing her meds. So long as her behavior was reasonable, and Rich wished (or tolerated?) her company, we did our best to put up with her. Then she decided to start using our toilet for 20 minute intervals, including in the middle of the night, which pushed me into a confrontation with Rich to straighten out her behavior here or deny her access. She, as well as two other people, had been visiting so steadily and for such long periods that Rich hadn't slept for two days. I had to shoo them out, politely and reeatedly, and request they just stay away for a couple days. I thought they did, but she slipped in again while he was sleeping. Seems she was looking for a little  more than friendship from him, while he thought she was way too young for him. So she tried to make him jealous by some weird interactions with one of his men friends.

That all escalated three nights ago to shouting and us having to give her the "unwelcome mat" for the house. The next night it escalated even more. Rich informed us she had all his phones, including the one that actually worked. He collects tossed out phones, opens them for parts, and cobbles together new ones. Or at least that's the idea. The working ones keep getting stolen. He did make one recently that worked but only on wi-fi. Phone bills are prohibitive. Anyway, he needed his phone(s) back and she claimed she didn't have them and wasn't going to give them to him anyway. But she needed "her" phone cable back from him. It's the one that runs his most recent working phone. Let me just say here that I'm leaving out a ton of detail. Most of it doesn't make sense anyway. Rich's other phones, the useless ones, are back. Not the good one. It's in some other guy's pocket, as Rich found out by calling it from mine and hearing it ring. That guy came along with her last night to.... Well, again, tons of information I'm leaving out. Accusations were made, mostly very loudly. Steve finally called the cops when they wouldn't leave. By the time they arrived, our two "visitors" had vanished.

The cops  - county sheriff, not local  Posse volunteers - had lots more information for us. They recognized her by first name and her mental illness. She has a pretty solid history of theft from the local Walgreens store, just another reason to keep her distant. We had a very pleasant conversation with them. Respect from both directions.

There remains a problem. Sleep deprivation. Mine this time.  All the noise, the bruhaha, happened repeated times after I went to bed, two nights in a row. I'm maybe just nodding off, and noise erupts. I had to get up to see what was going on of course. Half an hour to clear the situation, then time to soothe back to possible sleep, and AGAIN! Front door slams and yelling in the yard. Neighbors are likely disturbed. Both Monday and Tuesday mornings, I had to be in the club with keys to open by 9 AM. No sleeping in. Between me and the dog, it takes longer to get out of the house in the morning than when I was working. There's a bit of catch-up in the afternoons, but not enough. 

I started to feel it the second night, which was really morning. I'd been warned to get good sleep habits from my cardiologist. After the ablation surgery, I've had nearly perfect rhythm, now for almost three years. Not yesterday morning. I've been off cardiac meds for ages, and hope to stay that way. So if they show up again, my first reaction will be a call to the sheriff. I want some sleep. I'm starting to catch up with nice naps and no disruptions since then. 

Enjoying a little rain, even, despite the dog doing her usual refusals to go out as often as usual when the ground is wet. We got two inches just before Christmas, getting more this week. Turns out there is a little throw rug that needs the washing machine. I was wondering how she could hold it that long....  Sigh.

I'll likely be back in the club tomorrow morning again. Rich has some ideas for that computer. If I'm terribly lucky, I might remember some of it. He's usually sleeping at that time. He also tried to work with me to get my Mac software to produce ping files, and I almost got it once, though when I hit the next key it all went away and I couldn't, even after long minutes of searching, locate the starting place for that process again. Grrrrrr! I guess the next workshop email going out will have to have the short version, text only, nicely condensed on the top, and photos taking up lots of space on the bottom for those who have had their interest caught enough to scroll down... down... down....

Dogged Updates

Just a short one today. Heather Too is still favoring her infected foot, i.e. doing three-legged dog impersonations. The difference is now she's a perky, bouncy three-legged dog, not slow or hesitant, not reluctant to jump up on furniture, no delay before hopping in the car while Steve and I  head out for a night view of various holiday lights displays. The bacon fat smeared on her pills, with my fingers "wiped off" through the dry kibble in her bowl, keep her from fighting getting her medications.

Squatting in the yard still takes her maneuvering longer into various positions before choosing the right one, but she runs to and from the chosen location of the moment. For a bonus, she's not (caught at at least) licking that foot despite not wearing her cone. Since there's no topical medication, I'm not worried if she's licking it while we're not watching.

Oh, and Steve's willingness to ride around in the car for no "important" reason, such as a doctor's appointment, marks a great change in his back pain, for the better. His TENS unit is having a beneficial effect. The knee pain is reducing more slowly, but he's using it less there. We're both hopeful that increased usage will have increased benefit, but he's being thrifty with it right now until we get rechargeable batteries and a charger for them. We've been avoiding overcrowded stores at the moment, with Omicron booming and this being Arizona with it's abundance of covidiots. The mail and other delivery services are getting slower and slower as well. Soon though.

Little Dog, Big Pain

I watched it happen. I'm not sure still just what it was I saw, but I saw IT. 

I always watch the dog when she goes out in the yard. I know how far she goes when she pees, and how that changes in cold weather, how much more it changes when there's a drop of dew or any rain on the ground. I watch the rabbits (OK, hares) run away even though she has absolutely no idea they are meant for chasing. They are so much safer inside our fence than outside where coyotes can snatch them, but our harmless little mite of a dog is still perceived as a danger. The birds are smarter, strolling leisurely away as she approaches, still looking for food or bits of sand for their crops as they go. I know how she loves to drop her little black pebbles out near the fence where they blend in with the pebbles that actually are rocks, making them harder to locate later when it's cleanup time. That's why I watch.

I watch all this. And I watched her then. She just stepped off the patio blocks extending just a bit past the patio opening to the yard, down onto the ground. Perhaps a half inch down in level. Nothing at all any other day to her. This time she flinched, then stopped for a second, before the need that drove her out here reminded her why she came. But now she limped.

Just a little bit. Once having done what she came for, she turned and hurried toward the house, running once she hit the flat patio floor. She even ran a bit inside the house as if the trip had relieved her of a burden. Which of course it had.

Her next trip out she was fine until her feet hit the dirt. She limped a bit, squatted, perked up on her way in again. But she limped just a bit a few times inside the house. By the next day I had Rich help me hold her and that foot still to see if anything could be detected that was causing her discomfort. All we got was a reflexive yip like she always gives when we accidentally touch her in a spot she doesn't like. Like when we pick her up. Sometimes when we try to scootch her gently over to a different spot on our lap so we're more comfortable. There never seems to be anything wrong, and a quick tender word or three and a pet soothes her. We looked her foot over for several minutes. She let us know she wasn't exactly thrilled with the attention, but didn't yip or flinch at getting her foot examined.

She started holding her foot up when she walked through the yard. Her peeing spots got closer to the door. Finally that foot just didn't go down. It was time for the vet to have a look. I get that a small dog can function normally with just three legs. I've seen enough episodes of "Dr. Pol". But not when the fourth leg is in pain. And it's an increasing struggle for her, with it being a hind leg, to get a good base to jump up to the chairs we're in for a good cuddle and warmup.

The local vet opens at 8. The had an opening left for an emergency, which I believe a dog in pain, increasing rather than fading over several days, is. I dropped her off on my way to the club, which suited both the vet's schedule and mine. By now I was carrying her everywhere. 

We did the usual interrogations. Checked her history there.  Got weight - the only time I set her down. Explained the ... whatever it was that happened. Mentioned I was OK with x-rays if needed, explaining that there had been tiny metal shavings in the area. Rich does metal work on the patio, and while he goes over the area with strong magnets to pick everything up afterwards, my usually bare feet can attest that it's not a perfect pick-up. An x-ray should find any metal bits. Or arthritis, freak fractures, etc. 

They let me know the visit plus x-rays would cost $300, and that's before anything else. It would be $___ more if they had to be sent out this way, and yet $____ more if sent out that way.

Gulp.

I asked if we could have this discussion after they found out whatever they found out. Sure. I signed stuff and they took her on back, promising to call.

Just before noon they called. There had been something that poked her. It was gone, but infection remained, no doubt the cause of increasing pain. She was now on painkillers and antibiotics. She was also  going to have to wear the DREADED CONE OF SHAME! 

There was good news. They cleaned out the wound well enough to determine x-rays weren't needed. They also went ahead and trimmed her toenails while she was there, something I was going to schedule for the groomer's next open appointment anyway, once I knew how her foot was doing. The total bill was just under half of their initial quote.

I was sent home with pills and instructions, plus a cone that they decided to let me put on her at home. Gee, thanks guys! Good thing Rich was a second pair of hands again. The fit was very tight. I looked at the cone to try to figure out how it went together, thinking to open up the tightest part and close it after. No go. Not for me, not for Rich. Tug. tug, push, push harder, move her ears each up into it, and finally fasten it around her neck. Once there it was pretty genius, having loops that her own collar slid through to hold it in place just the right size to stay securely on.

If she had issues before with just the foot for her mobility, the cone doubled down. It stuck way down under her chin, and every attempt to jump up was stopped by the front of the cone. We were still picking her up. Any trip out in the yard was reluctant, and she refused to venture more than 6 inches from my feet. This is way too close for doggie piddling, lucky me. Then again, it meant we had to take her out a few more times in quick succession in order for her to wander far enough away to ... uh, perform.

There was one more big problem. Her cone extended far enough that it was impossible to actually reach her food and water in their dishes. She's already missed breakfast - held back in case of some need to sedate her at the vet. The medications she is on make her thirsty. Simple care makes that cone more harm than good. So I made the executive decision. Off it came.

Tug. Pull. Tug tug. Oh yeah, unfasten the collar. Pull some more. At least this time she was cooperating with the process. She still can't or won't jump up into my lap by herself, but as soon as I pulled out the laptop, down she jumped and limped over to jump up on the couch. It's the one with the fluffy comforter of Steve's on it that she loves to tunnel into. A bit later I served her supper and refilled the water bowl. Turns out she loves her meds if they are covered in bacon fat, something we store in the fridge. Just dip in a clean finger....

Hopefully that little treat makes it all worth it. She's getting more for 7 days.

Seasonal Nostalgia

"What X-mas doesn't mean anymore" may be a better title. It hasn't been a religious holiday for ages. Even as a kid, it was mostly Santa, the tree, presents, and the music. Even the church part of it then was  salted in the shell peanuts in a small paper bag with a couple of hard candies in it, maybe ribbon candies. And a story. Or should I call it "The Story"?

Oh, the music! It was everywhere. First in church or on the car radio. Eventually we got TV and it was there. Stores played it. School choirs (me included) sang it. I even went caroling, once, as an adult in a group of people I knew from a support group. It didn't quite hold the meaning of the campfire songs sung in the evenings at various camps, but then I wasn't freezing my (________) off in the summers. The music expanded to loving Handel's "Messiah", at least partly because Daddy used to sing it, well before I knew he sang anything. Then came "The Nutcracker", and taking my kids to the ballet in Minneapolis. I collected the music on various records, then CDs, and played it for myself. And of course all those years I was still singing it or at least hearing it, since my voice took a couple decades off. A few of the carols still make me tear up a bit the first time I hear them again, like "Silent Night."

Santa, well, that's kind of a checkered history. I believed those first few years, but found out that jolly old elf didn't have much of a budget, and never managed to bring what I wanted. Then I found out why. Later I became Santa, again without much budget and even less respect. All pretense dropped. I did manage at some point to memorize "Night Before Christmas", which helped me recall all the reindeer names. TV started in with endless cartoons before the holiday, stories I'd never heard of - as if they somehow were required to have authentic history? I avoid those now.

Trees have had an up-and-down history. The earliest ones were always real, and I think we went out in the woods and chopped our own. Meaning, not me of course, but the guys. I did graduate to hitting a tree farm a time or two but somebody else did the chopping. Bubble lights and what are in retrospect large lights of various colors were strung first of course, after testing the strings to see what still worked. Those early trees had a lot of tinfoil ornaments, folded for storage and requiring opening up before hanging on the tree. There were glass ones as well, and of course those home made ones from school art projects. I recall stringing popcorn, but forgot until later years how crumbly that is. We probably ate all the rejects anyway, likely much that wasn't a reject until we bit it, as well. There was tinsel as the final touch, painstakingly sorted strand by strand, OR ELSE! 

When I got married and started my own tree decorating traditions, we had simple breakable balls the first year. Every year after that until the kids were grown and gone, I purchased something new. The first purchase was flat wooden birds, one each in three (?) different colors. More birds followed in later years, and I developed a fondness for jingle bells, nut crackers, bubble lights, strings of small lights inside other decorations (frosted birds for one, of course), and of course the kind that the kids made. One year there were wooden ones, glued into 3D shapes, and painted by the kids. I loved them, but the kids quickly grew up enough to find them embarrassing. Nothing topped the embarrassment level of the angel tree topper. "Real" ones were expensive, so the tree lacked one for years. This one came home from school, Reynolds Wrap foil covering cardboard body, wings, and a styrofoam ball for its face. A pipe cleaner made the halo. Eventually the embarrassment displayed every time that box came out persuaded me to replace it with something purchased. I still miss it. I hope art teachers around the country still know how to make those. 

Bubble lights came back on the market, and I scooped several strings up. Turns out Steve did that too, which I found out once we combined decorations. They are the only decorations on our tiny tree this year, small enough to stand securely on top of his rolltop desk, big enough to hold 4 strings! The older decorations were sorted through several years back and sent to the family members still raising small children. I wish I could have sent the memories that go with them, but they'll gather new ones of their own.

Every present produced from wherever stayed unopened under the tree until Christmas morning. No exceptions. No peeking - or at least we learned how not to get caught. I recall the year I asked for an Easy Bake Oven. A large wrapped box appeared under the tree that might be the right size and shape. I woke up about 2AM Christmas morning that year, slipped downstairs, located the box, and carefully pulled open a flap or two of wrapping paper so I could see what was in it. Of course I didn't dare turn on a light. I knew whatever wrong I did, Mom was always there somehow to catch me. Unfortunately for my efforts that morning, many of the letters on the box were red. On a black background. In the dark. In other words, showing black on black. I kinda hoped it could still be my oven, but couldn't count on it. I rewrapped it as carefully as I could and hoped Mom wouldn't detect my exploring. If she did, she never commented. I did enjoy the treats it made, but there was never a question of spending money on refill food packages.

There was a year with no presents. Or at least none from me. It was when I had a very low paying job, child support had just stopped, and the bills hadn't. Somehow word got out to the neighbor across the street. She worked in a local hospital, which "adopted" a family (possibly more) who needed financial help for the holidays. First I knew about it was when I was asked about the kid's clothing sizes. Shortly thereafter clothing arrived for all the kids, along with various food items. No frills, just necessities. It may or may not have coincided with the school year when Paul grew through four sizes of clothes! He quickly learned to hit the sales racks and pick out two pairs of pants and two shirts, enough to last till the next growth spurt. My parents would have sent the kids presents, though nobody remembers what, just hard times. I still can't remember that time without getting emotional, a combination of embarrassment, gratitude, and thankfulness that it didn't last long nor repeat. These days I don't quite get teary about it any more.

Christmas cards became my thing. Everybody else does family photos. I do favorite photos. Some times I have a photo and saying combo that invades my skull and doesn't let go. That can make finding the proper framing and ability to add text the biggest challenge. I recall a trip to Alaska with my former and now late mother-in-law. One of many side trips from the cruise ship was a boat ride to watch a pod of humpback whales while they were bubble net feeding. This involved swimming around a school of their chosen prey fish, blowing bubbles from their blow holes which the fish mistake for actual confinement. The prey gather into a slim column, and the matriarch of the whale pod (I'm told) gives an audible signal telling them to open their mouths and rise through the column. Our captain had a microphone in the water and we heard a single note rising in pitch until the pod surfaced, mouths still open. That's the picture I took. I was able finally to find a way of getting a photo card made with no wording on it, enabling me to add "Have a whale of a..." whatever wording I finished it with.  Maybe "Holiday"? I've taken representations of various seasons and used them with "season" in the text.  I also am fond of "Peace" and other non-religious themes I can find in a format that supports whatever picture(s) I want to use. Whatever it is, usually the next season's card is mentally chosen months ahead of time.

Some years I do "Christmas" letters. You know, the ones I typically ridicule if/when they have parents gushing about their family and every third line has "we're so proud!" It's not that I'm not proud of my family, but I always think that's pretty much assumed if you're going on about them without using terms like "prison"! Some years hold big changes and a letter is in order, going to lots of people we otherwise have little contact with but good feelings for. Other years have to wait for me to have enough energy to find some new ways to say what I think everybody else is likely saying. This year's cards got no letters. For one thing, the pictures already showed the highlights of our year. For another, it's been pretty busy these last couple months, making gifts and items to sell through the club. Lots of package mailing to do, in fact enough that my credit card company started asking me if I really was the one using my card for all those trips to the post office, particularly two in one day? Yep. Me.

I'm also wrapping up my last year as club secretary, writing up those last sets of minutes from earlier this month, going through all my old records to make sure the club has pdf files of absolutely everything for the last three years for their official requirements, before I can finally clear more space on my laptop. I emailed them two years' worth this morning, then went in to the club to transfer them to their folders, and later found out the count is one set of minutes short. I'll get to go back in and compare both sets to figure out what is missing, send that in, and then have another fight with using a Microsoft system rather than my Mac.

I'm also in training for my new club position. Fortunately, two of the last two years' officers are frequently there and very willing to help me through the learning curve. I'll need it, and not just because of the computer. This next year I'll be club President, a job that typically takes either huge amounts of delegating skills or huge amounts of spare time to do 17 jobs by yourself. Our last two presidents haven't been delegators. I'm truly hoping to change that. Maybe a few other things along the way. I'm starting with sending our a club-wide email announcing upcoming demos and workshops, this time with pictures of what is being taught.

Much has changed over these 73 years. Some good, some bad, all with emotional attachments. Right now I'm taking time to wallow in nostalgia. Yesterday I just watched The Nutcracker on TV. My car radio  is playing holiday songs as I drive to the club, grocery store, or post office. In the evenings many of the houses are lit up with what are likely thousands of dollars each worth of lights and inflatables. (Mine has the wreath of sleigh bells on the front door, as usual.) With all that I'm doing and not doing this season, there is still one thing that makes whatever happened in previous years worth getting through, and all the changes or losses worth it: that extraordinarily loving guy in the chair next to mine in the living room, making sure every day I am fully aware of being loved. I make sure he knows the same himself.

Isn't that the most important part of the season? Of any season?

So Christmas Is Done Now?

Oh wait, I just mean all the fuss surrounding it. I think I am done "doing" this season's X-mas. Let's try a list.

Right after Turkey Day I sat down with my laptop and selected my favorite 6 photos to go on the X-mas cards this year. 5 got used. Almost all the cards have been sent out. However, they shorted me about 5 envelopes, so I'm going to have to either use larger envelopes than 5x7 and figure out how  much extra postage that will require, or not send those last few cards out at all. 

Still thinking....

I bought the ham and it's in the fridge. Finally got a sliced boneless one for a change. We never manage to get all the meat off a bone-in one before it's too old. 

I also got the same thing as my contribution for the club party next Monday night. Then I looked at the list of who'd bring what. Mine is the third ham. There also will be a turkey breast, meatballs, and shrimp.  Interesting.... 

We also bring a gift under $10 to be wrapped for a door prize raffle thing. I finally settled for a painted glass bell, frosted green with winter scenes and a cheerful tinkle. It's been sitting on one shelf after another for years, untouched except for packing to be moved. Beautiful but deserving a more appreciative home. I wiped the dust off. Looks new. Since it's breakable, I decided it at least needed a box before the party committee wrapped it, along with some bubble wrap. We had the perfect box, one left from our security camera system. With a long standing family tradition of reusing boxes for packing gifts, then wrapping them and SURPIRSE! Then Oh, it's not that. Then Whew! Or Dang! So I made sure to take black marker and cross hatch across the box on all sides. Hopefully the recipient will figure it out before expecting to find their very own security camera. (Maybe the price limit should be a hint?)

All the handmade presents have been made. All the finishing touches have been done, packaging selected, wrapping on and name tags attached. The very last of those was completed yesterday afternoon, made while I was in the club teaching a workshop on doing the very same thing. I had to do one to show how, and located that one tiny hole in the present list for a person to send it to, found a proper box and got it packaged.

The last of the purchased gifts have been bought, wrapped, and name tagged.  That was completed this morning. I decided to put my 4:43 wake-up call (actually the dog's) to good use and started work on the ones I've been putting off. They have the most irregular shapes, are totally breakable, and being antiques, irreplaceable, at least on my current budget. I suppose similar items are out there. Bubble wrap had to be dragged out of storage, from where it sat in a huge box since... well, some of it likely since we moved. I discovered in that process that the green stuff we have is biodegradable. If some of you get items with clinging bits of crumbly brittle plastic, I apologize. The stuff is so brittle that picking up any piece creates a dozen instead. It clings to everything but whatever you are trying to pick it up with. Just think of it as a bonus?

Whether single presents or a family-full box of presents, periodic trips the post office have been made. Sure, I could have saved maybe a half gallon of gas if I'd made a single trip. But who can carry that much besides Santa? I gave up impersonating him as soon as my kids made the mistake of announcing they saw through the pretense and unwittingly gave up that bonus present each season. So boxes went out once a full family's goods were ready to go. Or in today's case, three families' presents, all going to one single address for redistribution. Just to make up for that, one family got two boxes. I thought it would go into one, but my memory of the size of the one I just wrote the address on and it's actual capacity did not match. Don't criticize! At least they are all getting there! One single snicker, and next year you'll be sorry!

One trip was to Fed Ex. I didn't have the right box. I ran out of "poison peanuts" for packing. Other excuses. I ordered this and that and the other... before I got the bill! Next year I'm going to go buy a GD box and packing peanuts if I need to. Or just choose less fragile presents. Or something. 

Another trip was delayed until I got a work address. The home has a front porch facing the street and I didn't want to risk porch pirates. Of course the person I was trying to get the work address from was ... working. Go figure.

By this afternoon the last package had a carrier, most with tracking numbers as well. I'm very familiar with long lines and some of the people in them. One fellow stood behind me until he finally got the information passports were at that glass door over there. I wished him a safe trip to wherever he was going. Another lady made a thing of wearing a mask until she had to talk to a postal employee, at which point she pulled the mask down from her nose. Huh? I've heard of nasal voices before but....

OK, it's Arizona, and covidiots abound, but that just puts too much emphasis on the "-idiots". What happens if that employee needs to read lips to aid comprehension? Are there classes in reading noses now? Also, do you have to get close enough to require bifocals, and a full hazmat suit?

The gift wrap, tape, tags, and scissors have been put back in the den. That's major progress for me. Often they still decorate the furniture till New Years. However, I can't brag too much. They are all on the wrappings tote, not in it. At least the tote is in the library and that door stays closed. Someday we'll replace that slightly broken window so we can leave that door open again. Someday. But at least the dining room table got cleared off for Turkey Day, even though most of that stuff is also cluttering the library floor. I'm sure it will be organized enough that we can access the far two sides of that room someday. Honest.

Today brought one last nice surprise. Almost a present. Yes, of course there is a story leading up to it! You had to ask?

 Rich has a terrible history of losing, breaking, or even getting his cell phones stolen. He has the capability of finding discarded (usually spiderweb cracking on their screens) old cells and reconfiguring them to at least use them on wifi. Of course that limits him mostly to having phone service only at home. While there are lots of wifi systems around, most of them either are password protected or require a purchase from the store providing it. Our library is only recently open again to actual people but still try to limit our presence to just a few minutes. Since he's a night owl, even the free services tend to be closed when he's awake.

The first time he had a phone lost, it got returned when it called my phone and the finders were honest. I learned that he put an "unlock" type message in it saying if found, call (my number.) It doesn't always work, even when the finder is honest. He knows he's had one stolen on several occasions, even knows who did it, but still is unable to recover his phone. But my phone doesn't always alert me to incoming calls. Now that I'm retired, I'm not on it a dozen times a day. I don't check for texts or alerts for voicemail messages either. Today happened to be an exception, as I was waiting for a voicemail message of that work address so I could mail the last package. I saw there was voicemail, and found 5 messages on it. 

"Hi, this is (name) from the Sun City Posse (our local volunteer cops) at (address). We found (described package & contents) over at (location). It has two cell phones in it and one says to call this number if found. You can return this call at (number) or come pick it up between (hours)." A quick glance at the clock gave me a few extra minutes to look the address up, pop in the car, and get there before they closed. Luckily they have great little red signs with arrows on, just in case you've never been there before, or in case all the extra roads which curve around the mortuary and through the cemetery in order to get there are at all confusing. Yes, they are all confusing. First thing I said was to praise them for their excellent signage.

Then they brought out two cell phones. Are these yours? No, I'm not the one missing a phone, and I know nothing about a second phone. My son is home sleeping and you close quick, so how do we do this? Do I bring him back to ID his stuff tomorrow? No. One of the phones was in a wallet contraption and had money and ID inside. I assured them none of those things were mine, and pretty sure since it was a woman's wallet not my son's either. Pretty decorations though.

They asked for more information, so I repeated the call as closely as I remembered it. Ahah! They then took those two phones back, brought out a blue fabric tote with bunches of straps, and looked at it, asking me to match the address and phone number on its attached note. I was me, so they handed it over. I figured once home that Rich would be happy enough to be awakened with the good news that I could do it and finally discharge my duties.

So. Now all that is done. The tree looks wonderful with its bubble lights, sitting on top of Steve's desk. I can finally relax. So is Christmas done now?

Covid In The Family!

This is the second time - aka second branch of the family - when this has happened. Both times, nobody vaccinated. Both times, a senior member seemed to be the earliest hit and the worst hit. The first time, all survived, seemingly doing very well.

This time it's in beginning stages. We don't know much, except for refusals to vaccinate. By the time vaccinations were approved for 5-year-olds, the youngest was eligible.

This time O called his father while he - O - was at work. The kids' other grandpa was really sick, his wife somewhat sick, and their daughter wanted to go and take care of her father. O didn't want her to and was looking for some kind of way to discourage her effectively without starting a family bruhaha. Under those circumstances Steve asked the question that confirmed nobody had gotten their shots. We're not really surprised. Those two have had that conversation before. I had hoped the kids had been vaxxed by their mother by now, however.

When he handed the phone to me, as I was trying to feed him suggestions for what to say to O, Steve (unnecessarily) requested that I not get into it over the non-vaxxing part. I was trying to simply suggest things he might say to Krystal to keep her from going over. Like, where would she leave the kids? If she got sick, then who would take care of the kids? Shouldn't Grandpa go to the hospital before he got too sick? I don't know if he was successful in preventing her from going. I did hear that Grandpa did not go to the hospital, even though he was sickest and yet maybe still in the early window when medical treatment would do some good.

OK, nothing I can do about Grandpa. I spent a few minutes counting days and figured out that he was likely already sick over Thanksgiving. Did he not know yet? Did they all get together or not? I want to ask but I also think they have enough on their plates right now. Maybe later. Maybe.

I got busy with club duties and getting gifts and cards ready to ship out, and next thing I heard was Steve letting me know that now everybody but O was positive for covid. He's been working double shifts, 6 in a row by now if he has been able to follow the schedule. The good news is that may mean he didn't have enough exposure to pick it up. Yet. But it's been two days now with no new information. It's O that we really worry about since he's the one with asthma.

Of course we both worry, much as Steve hates to do that. He'd much rather make that long-awaited doctor's appointment (January) to start trying to treat his latest severe back pain. Or take advantage of my increasingly busy schedule, meaning no available lap for Heather Too for too much of the day, by making his own lap available for a dog too often only in mine. The two seem to be getting on very contentedly. Sometimes even when my lap is available!

I did risk asking the truly hard question. If the worst happened and one of the grandkids, the apples of his eyes, either got very sick for a long time or even worse, would he be able to forgive his son for not getting them all vaccinated?

He wasn't sure if he could. 

There's more than one way to lose family in a disaster.

Another Wedding Planned - Gulp!

We are invited to a family wedding next fall. In Tennessee. It's going to be one of THOSE weddings.

It seems the bride-to-be's  maternal grandmother is what we politely call "well off." We kinda knew that when Grandma offered to fund college a few years back. OK, lucky kid, now get back to our ordinary lives and forget it. College morphed into a nursing program, not some prestigious degree at Oxford or something. She's a level headed young woman, from what I can tell during an hour or so in the back yard over a bonfire.

Steve, the bride's paternal grandfather,  got texted a few photos of the wedding dress a couple days ago. Under a floor length veil are abundant skirt layers of something filmy, flowing and fluffed out a bit. Hard to tell fabric in a photo. The strapless bodice is solid beads or something sparkly, with runners of the same sewn on in points down the skirt for, oh, maybe two feet. Again, tiny picture. It's the modern dream dress. It better be. Grandma's paying for it, and the rest of the wedding, to the tune of a great down payment on a new house for the couple. But it's all for the wedding. At the local yacht club. Because of course.

Not to be outdone, the groom's family, apparently even more well off, are sponsoring the couple's honeymoon in western Europe. Nobody said how long it's going to be, just where. Oh, and don't worry about how it might be better spending that dough on a down payment on a house instead. While figures were being dropped, the phrase "seven figure salary" for the groom  scratched and clawed it's way into the conversation. As those phrases do.

Now Steve and I were looking forward to a nice quiet family celebration and a couple days touring fall colors along the Great Smokies or thereabouts. Suddenly it's not looking quite so fun. This is not what we're used to by a long shot. We don't have to worry about where we will live or what we will eat, or even whether we will eat. Any time spent worrying about what we will wear is usually regarding whether it's been through the laundry yet since last time it was worn, not whether we actually have clothes. But we're thrifty and try to keep out of debt. 

By comparison our own wedding cost us a license and a payment for the minister. The commitment ceremony with all the family and friends back in 2012 was rent free for the location since its use was a  gift. The reception was pot luck in lieu of wedding gifts. My outfit was home sewn - both my home and my daughter's since she helped with that. The females in the wedding party were given a general color scheme - Valentine's Day red through pink - and asked to please wear something in that color range that they were comfortable in if they could, and the guys wore suits or sports jackets. Economical for all - except Steve's brother and sister-in-law who flew in from several states away. Even they left their kids home, though not sure if they were being thrifty or it was a school day. Maybe both.

At least two family weddings I've attended have occurred, with receptions, in a park. Not expensive, just beautiful and full of love. Even during my first wedding, my own wedding dress wasn't my own but borrowed from my matron of honor. I've even attended a funeral in a family member's apartment "party" room, and pot luck. All the emotions, none of the usual expense aside from a cremation.

Now we're looking at this monster of a wedding and wondering what will we wear? Will they - the other guests, not family, hopefully - look down their noses at us and be snotty? We'll already be buying plane tickets and needing a motel room. Our biggest hurdle is we don't dress up any more. Steve no longer owns a suit, though he does wear a beautiful turquoise bolo tie my father used to own. I haven't owned a dress for decades and refuse to wear "fashionable" feminine shoes. Steve at least will have to do some shopping. I have a great silk shirt - in black, but tough if nobody likes that - and a dressy pair of slacks that have been in the closet for maybe 20 years. I was thinking job interview when I bought them. I may actually fit into them again, if not now then by next fall. I'll check soon. We have almost a year. I'd hate for it to go to waste. That silk feels so sensuous. And I certainly have jewelry that I never wear. My feet, however, will be in Nikes. Men's Nikes. It's what they have been in practically since 1985. (Well, not the same pair.) I don't mess around with my footwear for anybody. They're what my feet need. I talked Steve into getting a pair or "real" shoes too, a couple years ago, He's actually worn his Nikes a few times now. He'll wear them for this wedding.

We're working on toughening up our skin for this event. If somebody minds what we're wearing, tough shit for them. If somebody wants to impress us with their wealth and status, I presume we can be fairly polite for a while. Other than family, I'm not anticipating for some reason that I'll actually like any of them. But I plan to hover around the edges with my camera and take the shots I please of the people I love, the way I usually do at weddings. Well, the weddings I'm not actually in that is.

The wedding present for the couple is already picked out. It's the same kind of thing her mother, half sister, and step sister got or will soon be getting for their wedding presents. I picked up a variety of them back when I was working for an auction company on Saturdays. Every so often he held an antiques auction and my payment went to getting some beautiful things. They're now going to new homes. Slowly. Lots of weddings to come in the family, I hope.

But I have one thing I'm really curious about. With this kind of a budget for a wedding, what's the reception going to be like? Will it be a standard chicken dinner thing, or the load-your-plate buffet where sliced meats and cheeses go into buns and there's a pasta salad and the rest of the money went into the fancy yacht club location and barrels of booze? Or will it actually be a nice special meal for all to enjoy?

I guess we're going to find out.

Justice "I Like Beer" Is Wrong!

Not about beer. Well, OK, maybe that too but that's a personal preference. I admit I'm prejudiced there because I don't care for alcohol. Period. Beer even less so. So I'm unusual. But it's not the argument topic I'm blogging about.

I'm talking about the Supreme Court hearing on whether to abolish Roe v. Wade. It's not what they're calling it officially but everybody knows what's at stake. Both sides know, both those who wish to protect the right to an abortion under some few restrictions, mainly viability of the fetus, and those who - let's be honest here - wish to exert control over women, limiting their choices and freedoms by forcing them to  carry all pregnancies to term. It's not "pro life," it's "forced birtherism." Some of the potential laws on the books - "potential" because they are triggered once Roe goes away - make no exception for the viability of the fetus, the life or health of the mother, in some cases not even for rape.

So up pipes Justice "I Like Beer" with his rationalization for ending abortions. He's looking at state's rights to make all the quirky laws they please. To an extent he's right. They can make different laws about what insurance must be purchased and what has to be covered, for example, or which lands can be set aside for state parks, what speed limits on which types of roadways are safe, what kind of licensing requirements are necessary for an occupation. Thousands of differences make at least some kind of sense. But the federal laws must unify the country in other kinds of cases, common currency and interstate commerce being obvious examples. 

Civil rights are another and should be obvious. You and I should have all the rights guaranteed under the constitution, no matter which state we live in. It shouldn't matter what our age, race, religion, gender or sexual preference are. Of course there are always people who dispute one or another aspect of that, keeping our courts busy. And now "I Like Beer" sticks his nose in the issue, this time regarding abortion rights. Think of it as a trial balloon.

Don't see it? Let me explain. His argument is based on state's "interests". Different states have different interests. Sure they do, in many cases. But this is about a human right. States may think they are entitled to different "interests" regarding human rights, because they have exercised their different interests for centuries. Look at slave states as an obvious example. The "owning" of other humans proved an economic advantage to the owners. We fought a civil war over it. While we won, there are still all kinds of laws on the books that thwart the practical ways of making all races of people equal, including having two Senators from every state regardless how small the population, our Electoral College, and now the rise in obstacles to making it easy for anyone to vote. Neighborhoods with large populations of "those people" - however they are defined - often have fewer polling places per population numbers, have to travel longer distances without benefit of public transit, have fewer days to vote, and more restriction on voting by mail. Those keep us from having an actual Democracy. Political minorities hold an unequal percent of control over our elections and resulting laws. 

There is a very vocal segment of this country who still wants to turn back the clock on human rights and force their own interests on the rest of us. Some believe their religion needs to be the only one for this country. Others believe their economic interests need to be the ruling principle. Claims that fascism is returning if we're not very very careful are more than exaggeration and fearmongering. If you can't see that you're not paying attention to it through your bubble. I hope you like your fantasy.

I don't.

When I vote I want my vote to count, not more than others' votes, but equally. I also want everybody of age to be able to vote. I want my religious beliefs to be respected, but not imposed upon others. I want to be able to say what I want to, and so long as I'm not threatening anybody, lying about them, or instigating violence, be free from prison for saying it. As a woman, I also want to be free to make my own choices for my life, the same way men do. I came of age in a time when a husband had a bank account and a credit rating, and I as a wife couldn't without his consent. It wasn't assumed I could get a career that paid equal to a man's. Or a career at all for that matter. Mom told me repeatedly to learn to type so I could always get a job. I could also wait tables or maybe be a nurse or teacher. It was assumed I'd become a mother. While I never personally considered an abortion, and luckily never medically needed one, it was not a legal option. Not until Roe. I did have birth control access by then, so I could choose at least when to try to become pregnant, and various methods for postponing or preventing it. I revel in those changes for myself, my descendants, and for everybody.

Certain states have "interests" in changing all that. It's the tip of the iceberg, a deep chill on human rights for all but the wealthy and those who "think the right way." If this Mississippi law gets approved, dominoes will fall all around the country. Rights will erode. Being neither wealthy, nor one who thinks what other folks believe is the right way, I'm at risk. So are you. Justice "I Like Beer" is wrong. This is not just about abortion. It's about where this country as a whole is heading. 

Disguising it as"states' interests" is a blatant lie, and contrary to the constitution. Well, at least unless you are what is called a constitutional originalist. That term sounds good. But the document has amendments for a reason. Originally a black person wasn't a whole person, but, being property, was just a fraction of a person. They had no rights originally. Neither did women, also viewed as property of a man: father, brother or husband. Native Americans were simply impediments to the greedy expansion of land grabs and destruction of natural resources, seen only as "savages" while many were far more civilized than the Europeans practicing genocide on them. We needed amendments to grant these categories of people rights, including the vote. After we managed to create that historical body of laws, the Court saw fit to recognize the inherent right to privacy that a person has as being implicit in those laws, thus laying the groundwork for Roe v. Wade and abortion rights. It recently was extended to the "non straight" community, granting them the right not to be criminalized for who they are, and most recently, the right to marry whom they love.

The people who are trying to undermine that body of law are trying to return us to a time when wealthy white straight Christian men were the only one with any rights in this country. The question remaining is whether we are going to allow it to happen. The court seems likely to overturn Roe, if their questions to the petitioners have any meaning. They would overturn the principle of stare decisis, a recognition of settled law being settled and the foundation for new laws. It would be the reward for political shenanigans which denied court appointments to representatives of the majority of Americans and gave them to the political minorities, often seating what I'll politely call Whack Jobs on the bench with the power to make rulings on how laws are applied in individual cases. It's truly a perversion of what a Democracy is supposed to be. Of, by, and for the people means all the people, not just the powerful ones. Not just the ones you like. 

What are you ready to do about it?

Dec. 1: The Good And The Bad

First the bad: a news story on CBS concerning a Tucson cop fatally shooting a shoplifter who was supposed to be carrying a knife and threatening a store (Walmart) employee with it. The allegedly stolen goods consisted of a tackle box. The shoplifter was "fleeing the scene" in his mobility scooter. It was slow enough that both cop and store employee were strolling leisurely behind it as he crossed the parking lot and was approaching another store.

There is so much wrong in this story. Shoplifting is never a capitol offense. How much can one cost? Even if it were gold and platinum construction,  grand theft is still not a capitol offense. There was supposedly a threat with a knife by the man, but other than the employee's report of that to the off duty (but in uniform) cop who was shopping in the same store at the time, there is no evidence of it in the video shown, nor mention of it being brandished during the reporting. Even if the man was lunging with it towards the officer at the end, which the video shows he wasn't, there are still less lethal ways to disarm him without needing to shoot him 9 times!

Take into consideration that mobility scooter. I used one of those for a few years before my knees got fixed. They can be tipped, very easily if they happen to have three wheels instead of four, but still tippable with four. The man might have gotten badly bruised, maybe even a broken bone, but he'd be alive. If the two men feared the knife possibility, don't cops still carry night sticks? They have a long reach and can easily whack a knife out of a person's hand when they are stuck in a scooter seat. Again, bruising, a cut,  or even a broken bone may have resulted. At this point, either one of the men following him could have just reached over and turned off the key on the top front of the scooter and removed it, stopping the suspect literally in his tracks.  It was also reported that the cop was too close to use his taser. SO BACK OFF! Then use it.

With those options, the cop chose instead to shoot the man on the scooter. Nine times! Once he fell out of his scooter to the ground, he was handcuffed. Then aid was rendered, but the man died within a few minutes. Over a tackle box.

*    *    *    *    *

Ready for some good news? November was very pleasant down here. No rain other than a very light sprinkle one evening that blessed everything with that desert rain scent for over an hour. It was warm enough I was able to leave the bedroom window open and have it lull me to sleep. Days have been in the 80s, except for maybe five or six. Nights hang in the mid to low 50s. It was a great month to set record temperatures. I have neither turned on the AC nor heat since before November started, using windows for temperature control, and we're still expecting 4 more days in the 80s in the next seven-day. Steve makes up for that by using the new oven regularly to make french fries or biscuits or fish. There might have been a pizza in there, but I think the last one was actually last month. I of course can't complain, having baked both a double batch of stuffing muffins one day and roasted our turkey another.

The Fall Festival went without any big hitches, at least, though we did get one customer who showed up at the club store afterwards looking for what she'd seen during it but claimed she'd been told she could find after the festival at cheaper prices! We let her know it was hogwash - politely of course - and that we kept prices down (meaning the same) during the festival so customers would keep coming every year. If anybody raised their prices for Festival, they'd get their club in trouble so it might be banned from participating for at least the following year. It violates clearly stated principles sent out in a memo to keep prices low. 

I had fun shopping the Festival myself after my first shift, going around other booths to see what they had. The second day I actually purchased a piece at our club that I'd been eyeing for a couple weeks. It hadn't sold yet so I felt free to grab it myself. It will be the only jewelry present for somebody this year that is not of my own making. I already talked to the woman who made it and she promised to tell me what I needed to know in order to make something similar. Not exactly the same - we have a strong club policy against that. We teach skills and techniques, then each uses them in our own way. It's a really big no-no to try to sell the same thing in the store that somebody else is doing. One example of that is the celtic braid in wire that I like to teach. I tell people that the braid itself is not copying. I do mine with a particular finish on the ends and put beads inside. Use different beads, for example, or a different finish on the ends, or in different kinds of jewelry, and you're not copying me. 

This Friday I'll be teaching a workshop on making flat spirals with a loop on both ends so they can be joined to something on both sides. In other words, making spiral links. It's not more unique than jump rings. It's how you use it, what kind of item you make, what kind of wire, what size links, what combinations, with or without beads, how you connect them, whether they make the whole chain or an accent piece, etc. 

One thing that would be copying is my adaption of a wire flower by making it in multiple layers  with green, red and gold wires and gold beads into a poinsettia.  If you make it for your own use or for decorating your tree, I don't care. Sell it in the club store exactly that way and it would be a violation. Sell them on Etsy if you like, no problem. I did teach it two years back, and will again later this month. I have also adapted it in a number of different combinations of wire colors and beads, but encourage club members to make it their own.

Everything is put away again at the club. The treasurer had a bit of help both in sorting the cards from sales by person, and later by figuring out the 20% the club gets for sales through the store. I saw lots of my things get sold while I worked, but also saw times when everybody else's stuff was selling and mine ignored. I wasn't sure how well I did. The store had been closed for 18 months due to covid, so I was really hoping to do well last weekend. I had a mental picture in my mind of what I hoped my sales were. Having lots of sales of inexpensive items does not often equate with making money. I know many other members were selling well, and their prices were often higher due to different types of merchandise. The highest one I saw was a $95 sterling necklace with a phenomenal labradorite cab in an elaborate sterling bezel. I helped show it to a lady who was asking for that particular stone at a time when I had nothing else to do, and enjoyed showing off its blue flash by holding it under a spotlight in the case that held it. She wandered off, returned with her (presumed) husband, and bought it before my shift ended. It may be the only item that particular member sold. She's pretty new and had few items in the sale, all high quality and high buck, particularly for our club.

I returned to the club the next day to pick up my check from the sale. It turned out to be my best sale ever. That dollar amount I was shooting for turned out to be half of my actual sales! So of course I ordered some more supplies for particular projects I have in mind for this holiday, and will be getting things ready to send out in the next week or two, depending on delivery of those orders. I won't likely be spoiling any surprises if I tell you it's wires and beads.

Today was another great shopping day, this time for groceries. The1st Wednesday of each month at this chain offers those of us 55 and over a 10% discount. It means the parking lot is full by 6 AM, but I have decided to take advantage of being an early bird to arrive and claim a good parking spot 15 minutes earlier and listen to music while I wait. Inside, I found everything on my list and a bit more, including my favorite fresh medjool dates in an extra large container. We all already have the store card to take advantage of their specials, and they send out coupons for what we usually buy, so it's a good time for the most part. I even found room for all of it once home! Some days that's a challenge.

After that a friend dropped off a string of bubbler lights she no longer wanted, making Steve's day. I got to save a stamp on her X-mas card. Steve immediately hung the lights on our tiny tree, an artificial white one small enough to sit on the top of his roll top desk in the living room. We'd gotten rid of the old large tree a couple years back and sent many of its ornaments to our younger generations for their trees for their kids.

Following that I headed to the club for some time with the torch. I had tested a new idea the previous day, and having something of a "proof of concept," wanted to take some pre-cut pieces and do the steps I can't do at home: torch the ends, put them in the heated  "pickle pot" to remove black burn marks, put in a vibrator to turn the now white surface back to shiny silver. And before leaving, buy more sterling wire, 18 gauge dead soft round sterling. The only bad news of the day was that the price of that particular wire, like all silver,  had risen since my last purchase by over 80%. I compared when I got home. It's OK, though. Next year's items in the store will have comparably higher prices. They'll still be relatively inexpensive in our store compared to the general market. We have yet to generate a Louis Comfort Tiffany.

A little Seasonal Frustration. Again.

I had a little time to kill this morning before heading off to the club. Monday mornings are my day to make sure it is unlocked on time, as well as making sure chores are done... correctly. In addition, I had wire pieces I'd shaped that needed to go into the vibrator to either have the metal hardened, get a shine, or both. It was about a week's worth of work needing 20 minutes of attention per set, not done last week at the club because of the holiday and Fall Festival. Besides some of those pieces were still getting formed last night in front of the TV.

I have to open at 9:00. It's a 7 minute drive. Of course I woke up at 2:11. Just 'cause. Well, actualy just 'cause the dog had to go out, and by the time I get done with that, I'm usually unable to go back to sleep. I hatched a little must-do plan to kill some of the time. It must have decided to retaliate instead. Upon reflection, (part of the process of continuing to get fully awake), I noted each year this chore gets a little more frustrating.

And yet I love to do it. The chore is making the annual Holiday Card. I'd call it the Christmas card, but we've pretty much gotten away from Santa and the religious aspect, so I tend to look for themes like "Peace" or "Happy Holidays". I also love to show off pictures - or even just one - from the previous year.

This year, however, we wanted to show off a little more of what the year had been like - our favorite shots from previous  seasons, our grand vacation, or this year, even us on our grand vacation. Steve and I had some ideas. He even requested that I take a particular shot last year while the decorations were still up to go on this year's card. With those things in mind, I went through the 5,846 items in my photo library (yes, I winnowed it downthat far) and picked out 7. It wasn't as hard as it sounds, as I had a pretty good idea of where/when those pictures were. Once they were moved to my desktop, I still had an hour left before needing to get dressed and leave.

Time enough to go online and see what I liked. That usually means starting with Walmart. They let me sort by card size and theme, so that narrows things down a lot. I found one template I fell in love with. It took 6 photos, had a couple more vertical that fit what I wanted to put on and the rest more horizontal to adequately serve the rest. Those 6 made an outer border with "Happy Holidays" and "from the Smith family" showing on a black center with snowflakes patterns. It looked ideal.

As expected, every year the software changes. I fumbled my way through uploading my photos, found out I had to wait for the software to process them before they showed next to the card with instructions on placing them where wanted. I went through that three times before I had the pics in the locations I wanted, since I forgot to take into consideration a couple times that it wasn't ideal to place blue next to blue when it could have other colors in between. Once they were arranged to my satisfaction, there was one left over which immediately got discarded. The others were both more appropriate to the theme of the year and better photos.

Now it was time to replace "From the Smith Family" with "Steve and Heather". Eight tries later it still never happened. Three of them were before I had run out of time and left for the club. The other five were after I returned home and decided I must have missed something obvious, and hunted for some way, any possible way at all, to make the text replacement happen. First, the thing didn't offer me a choice of which text to replace. It decided to place our names - in 36 size font!!!! - immediately over the "Happy Holidays" and parts of the surrounding photos. It was placed toward the left so the pictures on the right of the card were untouched. But the Smiths, whoever they may be,  still reigned supreme on the card. Moreover the letters were in black, matching most of the background no matter how many times I picked white, and in 36 font no matter how many times I brought it down to single digits.

Just before I ran out of time, it highlighted a little green box over the Smith's greeting, indicating that I could have selected there to put my text. EVERY SINGLE NEXT KEYSTROKE completely reset my attempt to put in sensible text in a rational size, color and location back to what it had decided to do.

When I returned from the club, somewhat more patient having gotten done everything I wanted, I started in again. Still failing, I explored other photo card sites. Nobody had what I liked or wanted to have to afford. it was time to hit up Walmart in person. Now I would have downloaded my chosen photos, including the reject just in case, on a thumb drive. However, I took my spare thumb drive and loaded it with video files of Anna from a pair of previous visits onto that didn't fit on the big one I loaded all the photos I was giving Jordan so she could keep them. The smaller drive with the overflow I asked her to return to me so I could do what I wanted to do today, load a few pictures on and take to the printer. It's never been returned. (Hint-hint Sweetie.)

Walmart is a several mile drive from the house, so I did the only seemingly sensible thing and threw my laptop in the car, in sleep mode but able to reopen to my desktop with those selected files on it. I decided I should also take along one of  the little doggie blankets and cover it up while it was in the car when I wasn't. It kept the laptop from being seen/stolen, even during the long wait in line at the electronics department which was staffed by a single person at the time. I bought the cheapest thumbdrive, returned to the car, loaded the photos on it, returned to their photo kiosk, and ... Nothing. Oh sure they had a kiosk, but no place to sit, and upon a search, only 3 choices of cards that turned out to be no choice at all. So having no place to sit turned out to not be an impediment after all. I left for good in three minutes.

Back home again, thumbdrive loaded, I tried yet more photo card sites. Their prices were 6 times what I would have had to spend at Walmart. I might have considered it anyway if they had anything, anything at all to suit my needs. I could maybe get 4 square photos on a card, but no. I was determined it was going to be 5 or 6. I could get all kinds of Christmas themes, new baby themes, graduation themes, here's-the-whole-damn-family themes, but nothing in a non religious holiday theme that would take more than one or two photos  Nope, not for me this year. Not now that the choices had been made.

I called CVS. I never go there, but I recall other drug stores that had photo kiosks in the past, and this was both fairly close and likely one of the least expensive around. Besides, I was going to need stamps for those cards, and it was already in the direction of the post office. I grabbed a couple bites of what was going to pass for lunch, and headed out with the thumb drive once their voicemail system finally provided me with a human who could confirm they did indeed have a photo kiosk.

Turns out it had a nice stool too. And hundreds of cards to pick from. I tried really hard to get the first card I'd fallen in love with out of my head. It wasn't going to be here! And it wasn't, but several others met my needs fairly well. Moreover, as I went through the process of dealing with the photos and text, everything was simple. After all those hours, once I selected a card my order was placed in about 5 minutes. After a quick run to the post office for stamps and McDonald's for an ice cream cone to soothe my soul, I was back to pick them up. I think they look better than I cold have hoped, almost as good as that first..... NO! NO! Don't do that Heather!

Deep breath.

They look just fine. Most of you who read this will be seeing yours in the mail... umm, this year. Depends on how badly DeJoy messes the mail up by then.

Notes On A Fall Festival

Today was the first of 2 days of the Sun City wide festival for all the crafts clubs to display and market their wares to a large crowd of people anxious to purchase  wonderful and interesting items at reasonable prices. We've had to wait two years for it because of covid. You might have guessed that this, being Arizona with masks being optional, had perhaps as many people as one in twenty present wearing masks. (Raises hand.)

The last two weeks were concentrated work in getting ready for it. Let me clarify that most of us prepare all year, learning skills and making jewelry for our on-site little store. But things ramped up. All the store jewelry had to be cleaned for showing. Silver tarnishes quickly here. Sulphur in the air is blamed. Choices need to be made as to which of your selections are going, unless you haven't yet made more than will fit on two trays for optimal display of each piece. Of course, we have "fake neck" stands for special necklaces, round bars on stands to hold bracelets, ring boxes, and 5 different rotating earring cases as well for the whole club, so every pair of earrings in the store got sent. A few mirrors are also strategically placed so customers can see how wonderful something looks on them. Or whatever it is they think they see in those things. We're hoping they see dollar signs.

Committees were set up for taking everything to the festival, and hauling back and putting away whatever was left. Tables and electric cords came with your club's space, along with publicity, announcers, parking, golf carts to shuttle customers to and from parking. Vendors were selected to sell foods and beverages outside the building, with only water allowed inside.  The clubs provide their own decorative table covers, plus sheets to cover the merchandise during closed hours when the building is locked. Excess of everything is stored under those tables behind their cloths, whether it is extra jewelry to fill in emptying trays, or boxes/bags for sold items, tools for emergency repairs, etc. Somebody even located a bandaid for a customer this morning! Inside the big rectangle of display tables are two small card tables, with space to walk around each. One holds the cash register which works on wi-fi plus whatever else in needed at that spot, the other table holds decorative boxes and bags for sold items, and a pair of boxes full of cards.

That's my preferred job, working with those cards. It is all done from a chair. 

When I say "cards", I refer to the large index type cards which each member fills out for each submitted piece of jewelry they wish to sell. Weeks or even years earlier a committee goes through those decide by a defined set of standards which have the quality to be sold in the club store. It's never about style; that's between the "artist" and the customer. Cards are all filed, first by the number each person is given by the Rec Center membership. Then they are filed in order of when they were made, starting with #001 and going as high as necessary. There is an annual limit, enforced by a limit of ten items twice a month. Some are in the 700s now. Each jewelry item has an attached tag with those two numbers and the sale price. Cards also give information on metals and stones used, what kind of item it is, and whatever else the seller needs to identify item 203 from 437 when they're made of the same materials and both are, say, necklaces.

As soon as a sale is completed, the number/price tag is removed. That tag goes to the other table to be matched with its proper card, the tag is taped onto the card, the card is dated and the sale price noted, and it goes into a large plastic envelope with a velcro fastening.

It's seldom that simple of course. Tags get ripped, writing gets blurred from a drop of water even if it was legible in the first place. No guarantees there either. As soon as they learn they can do it, the sales staff will bring a piece of jewelry to you asking what stone or metal is in it. Customers want to know if they should be impressed enough to buy it I guess. The card has to be pulled to get the answer. It can be educational finding out. One indeterminate stone this morning was a white jade with a wisp of purple floating through it. Another that looked very similar was declared by the maker to be some exotic kind of agate. Some I recognized, like malachite which is the only thing that looks like malachite. Sometimes it was even something I'd made - recently enough to be sure of what I'd used. And on a good day I can bring up the name promptly. I had "aquamarine" nailed!

I held down that chair for 4 hours this morning. As tags went through, I noticed that the usual suspects were the ones doing the most selling. Two stood out. The first was a woman I've seen in the club for two years who never submitted anything. Until two weeks ago, when I'd commented that I thought her stuff would easily sell and encouraged her to submit some. Of her 9 items, 3 already sold in those 4 hours. I informed her when she showed up just before I left. I was tickled for her.

The other surprise was me. My numbers kept coming through. I had hopes of good sales this time, unlike other years, since I was now working in sterling, and making somewhat conservative items. The surprise was in what was selling - mostly stuff that had been unsold for the last 3 years! Lots of colored wires, an abundance of large seed beads, styles unique to me within the club. That included celtic braided wire bracelets and earrings, and the multi-level wire "flowers" that my color choices turned into either poinsettias or stars, whether for earings, pendants, or tree ornaments. Tis the season! As one woman said as she dropped off yet another of my tags (recognizing my style), apparently funky is back in this year. Styles had suddenly reversed. She was cheering me on, after several years of modest sales.

She is one of our premier jewelry designers, always sterling, and head of our selection committee. She worked for months to figure out how to turn a single piece of square wire into a coffee cup with steam rising from it, then hung on ear wires. Customers eagerly pay $35 for a pair of those! She freely admits they are paying for all those months of work and all the wire she had to throw away when it wasn't right. She has never taught it, nor do I expect she ever will. She's justifiably proud of it and keeps its secrets, other than saying the trick is finding exactly where you have to start - the only way it works. I had seen only a couple of her items come through, and tried not to feel sorry for her since she usually sells like crazy. Especially when she made a point of looking up my overflow items and filling display trays back up with them. 

I happen to be of the persuasion that once I figure out a new-to-me skill, I should pass it along by showing others. Even more so if it's something that made me lie awake nights trying to figure out how to put it together. It's how the club works. It's how I learned. My newest  technique will be done as a workshop in early December. I've gotten requests to show wire poinsettias again too, but will have to see how much else I need to get done as well, and how much I recall of the finer points after two years or more. I can practically do them in my sleep - some nights I think I do - but the teaching part is rusty. And we'll have to see about celtic wire braiding again. Haven't done that one for over two years either.

There were frustrations as well, aside from illegible numbers on some tags. I had made a point of going through those boxes of cards recently and making sure that they were in order. It took large parts of two days in the club, since besides organizing them, I notified members of irregularities in individual cards that they needed to come in and correct. I expect you now believe the cards were still in order? LOL. I had to pull whole sections out and reorganize them, full stop to everything else, because three different sets of cards were shuffled in with each other, all out of order internally to boot. Even mine were jumbled around. If we can't locate the proper card, matching the numbers we sort by, we have to make a duplicate. As well as we can with very little information, anyway. At the very least we write "duplicate" on a blank card, tape the tag to it, and send it through for the treasurer's headache on Sunday when she tries to figure out how big the checks are and going to whom.

There was also the lost tag. I had to locate it. Fortunately, I watched it fall from the cashier's fingers down onto the card file box on the left, landing somewhere in about a 4" wide section of cards, and vanish. After making sure it hadn't landed on the table or floor, I pulled out that entire section plus a batch in each direction, and flipped through them one at a time looking for a piece of folded paper about 1" by 1/2". It took about 15 minutes. We were already late enough in the morning that all the paper I was dealing with had drawn all the skin oils from my fingers and I had to use my fingernails to separate cards. (Guess what I had trimmed down in the car just before I got out this morning?) Between the mask and a clean forehead and nose, there was nothing to make my fingertips stickier. I certainly wasn't going to pull of the mask and lick my fingers! I mean, at home, sure. But here....

My relief was a brand new member, so I got to spend about 15 minutes training her in right on doing the job. We had several tags to go through, and I spent some extra time on how to deal with the unusual. Once done with that, I spend a few minutes doing my own festival shopping. Many years that meant kitchen towels or pot holders, since they get dirty so quick and I hate the big store offerings.  This year I found things for other people that weren't jewelry, and no, I'm not telling! Some of you read this! Or at least claim to.

Tomorrow I go back in to do it again. A shift is at least two hours, and the person assigned to follow me set her time up with mine so I could train her in. She also will be training in as club secretary for next year, incidentally. I'm not thinking I'm likely to shop afterwards this time, but probably will go around and see if more of my stuff (and others') needs to go on display. If we're still selling as well as this morning, we're going to have lots of spaces to fill. I'm particularly interested in seeing how one member's squash blossom necklaces are selling. She just missed the deadline for submission but they are so spectacular that we waived that particular rule and stayed late that day to "jury" her pieces. (Shhh! Don't tell. Other people will think they can get away with it too.)

Oh, BTW I'm not stepping down as secretary because I got tired of the job.  I still very much like the job. But officers have been hard to find the last couple of years, for obvious reasons since actual club members coming in to work also have been sparse. Burnout among officers is high. New volunteer officers are hard to find. We had one new person willing to step up, but only as secretary. Two current officers are keeping their same positions, and I'm one of two willing to take on a different one. So come January 1, I'll be president. It'll only be 6 times the work.

Good thing much of my jewelry can be made at home in front of the TV!

Triggered: Getting A Suicide Note

Please note that this has also been just posted on Daily Kos. I am also putting it here. I believe it may be important.

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I would have said even yesterday that nobody close to me had ever attempted suicide, aside from one very troubled youth back when I was young myself. Sometimes I manage to forget about him for years at a time, even though he was successful and had reached out to me very clumsily beforehand. He had a major influence on my life, and as a result never quite leaves my awareness.

But that’s not the incident I got triggered about yesterday. Amend my awareness to “as an adult.” I have found over the years that my brain has an amazing capability to protect me from some of life’s worst realities, at least as they relate to me. They cease to exist, at least for some while.

Have you ever had it happen, where you’re watching something on TV and you only react to it at first in the context of the story being told with familiar characters? They are all safely fictionalized, after all. It’s rerun marathon time on lots of cable channels, what with covid stopping production at least for a while of many of our favorite dramas. This particular trigger was an episode of “Chicago Fire” from years ago, my husband’s current must-watch series, where Gabby Dawson returns from a getaway weekend to receive a call informing her that a fellow firefighter has just committed suicide. It’s not the call, nor even the fact of suicide that was my trigger. It was watching a previous scene where the woman wrote a note and set it on her table, allowing the camera a closeup of Dawson’s name.

It took a few minutes for that to sink in. I’d been “feeling” it as I thought Dawson must have been experiencing it, while anticipating plot twists and character reactions. Then it hit me: OMG! I’d gotten one of those!

Well, except for never actually having physically received the note. I just heard it had been addressed to me. The cops had it and weren’t going to turn it over. Besides, it was almost too bloody to read!

Imagine living with that for a few weeks, the time it took to find out the rest of the story. Why did she write to me? What had I done to her to make her try to end her life? My only image of a suicide note at that time was of one person telling another what they’d done to drive the first one to that point.

I hardly knew her. She was a member of a (non-12-step) support group I was to become very involved with for several years, but we’d never really connected, at least on my part. I had been in that group busy with resolving my own issues at that time, not reaching back out to the others who were supporting me like I was  able to in later years. My awareness of her was more of her being part of a couple, where it was common to refer to the two of them as a single identity, ___ -&- ____. Come on, don’t scold, it was decades ago and they’d been inseparable. Except they were breaking up, something I hadn’t been aware of. He was the one who called me with the news.

She had left the house they shared, crossed a highway, gone into a lightly wooded area where she was found hours later with a knife and a few good-bye notes. Mine was only one. That didn’t diminish my reaction, being one of the several she’d written to. It was all a jumble of mystery and horror and guilt.

The previous evening, after a meeting of that support group, a bunch of us had gone as usual to socialize and lighten our moods in what we referred to an an “afterglow.” There was always music, and with most of us being single, some dancing, a little drinking, and lots of talking and laughing.  ____-&-____ had attended, and he had been flirting with me. He flirted with a lot of the women. I told him flat out that I wasn’t interested, partly because he was already in a relationship, and partly because he reminded me physically of somebody I didn’t care for. I only informed him of that first part, being too polite to be harsh about it. A casual dance and conversation were OK, talking in group was OK, but that was it.

Part of my guilt after hearing the news was wondering if she’d been aware of his coming on to me the night before — how could she not? - and had she been blaming me for his actions — how could she not? It made no difference in my mind that I hadn’t encouraged his attentions. Since she was in the hospital for a couple weeks (how badly injured was she anyway?) and didn’t return to group for a couple more, I spent that time stewing about that note and what it might have said.

Eventually she reached out to me in person. Her note, to my total shock,  was about how much our friendship had meant to her and she was sorry to leave me behind or something — time has greatly diminished my exact memory. Especially as I was reeling from being on an entirely different planet than she was. How could that little interaction we had in group have been that significant? What had I said and done or not done? How responsible was I for what she’d been going through by being completely oblivious? While I was obsessing over what my fault in the matter might have been and whether I deserved the imagined scolding in her note, I was damn sure I’d done nothing to earn her great regard. And what on earth had she done to herself in trying to die that had made that note unreadable from all the blood? All those emotions had been bathed in blood for me, that note unseen still visualized in red.

The two of them finished breaking up, and her presence in group diminished greatly. I trusted she was getting the help she needed elsewhere, from professionals. Live moved on in all kinds of ways. That bloody note vanished from my thoughts. Until yesterday.

I’m bringing this up now not only because it’s back in my thoughts, but because the holidays are approaching, that time of what we are all told is supposed to be great and wonderful togetherness. Rejoice and be happy! Feast with all your loved ones!  Except too many people don’t have those loved ones to get together with, for all kinds of reasons besides a pandemic. The holidays just rub it in for too many by reminding them that they aren’t happy, don’t feel loved, don’t find reasons to continue on. It’s stereotypical suicide season.

I know suicide ideation doesn’t really have a season. I had lots of long chats with a friend a month ago who was in crisis, and was shocked to find out she’d not been aware of suicide prevention hotlines. The next morning she informed  me she’d called them for a couple hours. She reached out to them again along with me and several of her other friends for a few days until she didn’t need to any more. Her issues aren’t gone but she now has that resource, along with others.

If you or anyone you care about, even in the slightest, need the resource of a suicide prevention hotline, there is a national one, international lists of them, specialized needs (kids, being gay, abused wives, etc.) hotlines, all at the other end of a phone call. Google can find them for you, starting with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255. Use it, please! Share it.

Cooking's Done. Now The Cooling...

Next Thursday is Thanksgiving.  This means my once a year cooking marathon. Trust me on the "once a year" part. It takes parts of a week, most of a weekend. It's very work intensive, and the turkey itself doesn't count yet, not even touching the oven until Thursday. It will graduate to the fridge tomorrow, however.

This year was different. I did a double batch of my special stuffing muffins. We're having a friend over for the main meal, and she is gluten free. Since bread is the main ingredient, I did the first batch with gluten free bread (then reused the dishes with regular combined with the dab of leftover stuffing). She persuaded me that I could actually find decent (whatever that means) gluten free bread in the freezer section of the local store.

I was less than impressed as I pulled two loaves out. Apparently whoever froze them wasn't impressed either as they weren't put in the freezer with much care for the condition any of them would come out in. I decided not to care since they were going to be torn into bits as their next step in life, and hoped all the additions would make up for it. There's a lot of liquid in the recipe, between orange juice, melted butter, chicken stock and eggs. In case that's not enough to help the bread along - or worst case, help us ignore the bread - there's also cranberries, raisins, chopped onion and celery, and lots of chicken meat, not to mention oodles of spices.

Work started a few nights ago, tearing up the bread. All 4 loaves of it, or 5 pounds. Those crumbs go back in the bags they came from, then back into the fridge. I warn everybody not to shop too much so there's plenty of room there. At the same time I twisted Rich's arm into chopping two onions and two celery hearts. I did my best not to mind his running out of the kitchen every two minutes to give his eyes a rest from the onions. Or the language. I figure since he's not contributing financially, he can chop... and clean house later. Once the onion fumes cleared the kitchen, I soaked craisins in OJ along with a little orange zest. The regular bread crumb mix is part raisin bread, but gluten free doesn't seem to come that way yet, or at least not in the local store. I decided a pack of fresh raisins were moist enough and just sprinkled cinnamon into the main mix.

Yesterday was the last store visit for the event, which included a pair of roasted chickens. Right now they are a great deal, with two already cooked for $10. After a "little" nibbling on the meat (breakfast and supper), they got pieced up and plopped into a big soup pot to simmer for a couple hours, then cool enough to go into the fridge as it was now past bedtime. The pot came out again this morning to heat up on the stove again, just a short period this time, making up for the cooling. The broth got strained off, and the rest got picked through to salvage all the meat. And yes, all the scraps went immediately out into the garbage. (But somebody else gets to do the dishes!)

Since I was cooking anyway, I changed  my plan from doing the final stages tomorrow to doing it all today.  I got a little help from Steve, most notably that high reach to the top of top shelves to pull down the roaster pan which I use as a mixing bowl, being low and wide for easy access to mix every bit uniformly. I also didn't feel like beating the eggs, 6 at a time for each batch, since the only beating instrument in the house is a whisk.

I had the foresight to get two different kinds/colors of cupcake papers. The pretty blue ones now hold the gluten free batch, all three dozen. The all pink or yellow or blue ones hold the regular bread muffins, four dozen minus the ones Steve and I each had. Just a test, you know. Quality control after the fact. 

The last batch out has now cooled enough to remove from the pans, not quite enough yet for bagging and putting in the fridge and freezer. So I guess it's time to quite killing time by writing this. Many of each batch will be frozen for meals through the next several months. My gluten free friend will get some leftovers, while others will stay frozen till February when Steve and I spend a few days with some Minnesota friends who are coming down for the "warmth" of Sedona. We haven't been able to convince them that Phoenix is actually warm then while Sedona isn't yet. Last time we joined them there snow capped all the red rocks for the entire visit. But she is also gluten free, so we can grace their table with something she can enjoy with us. Or is it that we can enjoy them along with her?