St. Peter's and the Colosseum

To answer Jay's question, Al took a could of pictures of the food and here they are. He took pics of all of us at the restaurants, but he didn't think about taking pictures of the food until late into the trip. I wish we had taken more--next time we will.

Lunch at a Farmhouse during a Tuscany Tour



Pizza (garlic pizza--Al's idea) and Calzone




Thanks everyone for the kind words about the photos. I wish I could take credit for them, but it's all through Al's eyes. Yes, it is a great camera (we bought a new one before we left), but he really does have a good eye.

So, continuing our story . . .

I love breakfast and I really loved breakfast in Italy. I know that for the diet and for health I will keep eating my high fiber Kashi cereal now that I’m home, but I absolutely loved sitting at a small table eating a roll spread with jam or this looooovely chocolate spread (like Nutella but more chocolatey) and then maybe another roll, like a croissant stuffed with chocolate and sprinkled with powdered sugar, and drinking a milky, frothy cappuccino. It was always a great start to the day.

Breakfast delivered to our room in Venice. (That package on upper right is toast.)



This day, we were heading down to the Vatican and St. Peter’s by way of the metro. There was a time I would have gladly walked to all these places to really take in the city, and I miss those days. Actually, I still could, but it would take longer and I would have to take breaks, which come to think of it would have been really nice! Take a break at a café and have another roll and cappuccino. Why didn’t I think of that!?! Because I had a lot I wanted to see and I wanted as much time as possible, that’s why. Thus, taking the metro, which dropped us a block or two from where we wanted to go. Plus, there’s good people-watching on the subway.

Anyway, we made it to the Vatican (BTW, take the Ottaviano stop. The one after gets you a little closer, but you have a HUGE staircase to climb.). The line for the museum wrapped around and around the wall enclosing the museum, so we decided to save that for another afternoon and headed around to St. Peter’s Square. The street was lined with souvenir shops on the way to the basilica, and thousands of people were there to see St. Peter’s, too. So many people that at some point, someone slashed my bag. Luckily, the nice people at Eddie Bauer who made the bad put thick Styrofoam all around so they only got through the first layer of defense. I usually kept it in front of me, but sometimes it swung to the back and I’m guessing that’s when it happened. It’s kind of funny to me, though, because if they had gotten through, all they would have gotten was a book on how to speak Italian.

Slash in the Bag



St. Peter's Square



We entered St. Peter’s Cathedral and like everyone had to stop and take it all in. It’s massive and opulent. Marble and gold and statues and pillars and decorated domes, it was just awesome. The first thing we saw was Michelangelo’s Pieta, an inspired sculpture of Mary holding the crucified Christ. The statue is behind glass now because years ago a wacko attacked it with an ax. And while he did so, the other people there started grabbing pieces being chipped off instead of trying to stop the guy. So, you can only get so close, but there is a replica in another part of the cathedral.

St. Peter's Cathedral Entry



Michelangelo's Pieta



Everywhere you look in St. Peter’s there is something amazing to stare at. The statues of Popes and angels stare down at you as you try to walk while looking up. In the center is St. Peter’s tomb, with the 98-feet tall baldachin towering over it. Here are some pictures that can’t even begin to show how overwhelming it is.

Statues Over the Door



Maybe this can give you some idea of the scale of it's massiveness



Baldachin over St. Peter's Tomb



The Dome Over the Baldachin



We also participated in another tourist tradition—we bought Vatican stamps and mailed post cards from there. Apparently this is a popular thing to do as evidenced by all the people having their picture taken putting something in the post box. Who are we to fight tradition? So we bought the stamps, but didn’t do the picture thing.

We stopped for a light lunch of paninis. The guy serving us said things like “Yo Dude,” and every other American term he could think of. That brings me to one other Italian culture/tradition/thingee. Often there is a small charge for actually sitting at a table, so if you don’t want to pay that, then you can do like all other Italians and eat while standing at the counter. But remember that one of the rules about traveling is to sit when you can.

It was time for a break, so we headed back to the Nardizzi. While M took a nap, Al and I walked around the shops in the area and met up with K at a café for a Coke and a snack. Then it was on to the Colosseum.

We found out that it was a family day, so the tickets were free for many museums. We thought the line would be really long, but we went late enough in the day that the tour groups were gone. And that’s Lesson 3—Sometimes getting to an attraction in the morning is not a good idea because that’s when the tour groups go, so try to go to really popular attractions in the afternoon or reserve tickets ahead of time if you can.

The Colosseum is one of my favorite kinds of tourist attraction. Museums and cathedrals are wonderful and inspiring, but the Colosseum is real, it’s an ancient reminder of the history of humankind. You walk up the stairs out of the metro and there it is, this huge, historic creation that has survived as the city grew around it. Amazing. Here are some pictures:

The Colosseum



The Arch of Constantine outside the Colosseum



Inside the Colosseum



Inside the Colosseum



A model of how the underground of the Colosseum works--elevators raised the animals



By the time we were able to tear ourselves away from the Colosseum, it was getting pretty late and they had stopped letting people into the Forum, so we looked through the fence at it.

The Arch of Titan leading into the Forum



Then we did something stupid. In my and Al’s defense, we didn’t want to, but we gave in because K and M wanted so much to do it and for some reason they seemed to think that we all had to do everything together. We took a carriage ride. Oh yeah, it seems all romantic and cool, but a stressed out horse pulling a carriage on cobblestones is not comfortable nor enjoyable. Sure, we got to see a few things close up that we might not have gotten to see, but it wasn’t worth it. Plus, I didn’t realize it, but K hadn’t made it clear where he wanted to be dropped off, thinking that he was going to bring us to a metro stop, but K kept calling it the station, so we ended up no where near the metro and walked back to the hotel. It wasn’t too far, but it kind of put a damper on things for a while. It wasn’t the first time during this trip that I wouldn’t go with my first instinct, and it almost always came back to bite me on the butt. But here are a few pictures from that ride.

The Aracoeli Staircase leading up to Santa Maria in Aracoeli



Circus Maximus and the back of the Palace



Home of the Vestal Virgins



The Victor Emmanuel Monument, also called the Typewriter and the Wedding Cake



Later, we had another fabulous meal with another bottle of wine. Al and I split melon and prosciutto then each had a pasta dish. K ordered tiramisu for dessert and we spent some time trying to figure out why when we make tiramisu it didn’t turn out as firm as there’s did. My tiramisu turns into a spoonable dessert, unlike what we ate, which was a perfect square on the plate and could be eaten with a fork. Maybe the marscapone is thicker in Italy.

Then we went back and passed out from the exhaustion of a busy day and from eating ourselves into a food coma.

The Eternal City

Landscapes in Rome--St. Peter's




First things first, I have to confess that I didn’t buy a lot of shoes and purses. I know, I’m disappointed in myself, too. I had every intention on spending money on those things, but I didn’t count on all the beautiful pottery and glassware or how much wine we would drink or how much I would want to buy things for other people or how the gold jewelry sparkles just a little bit more brightly in Florence or how I’d fall in love with leather-bound journals of handmade paper, which I bought first.

But what I didn’t achieve in shopping goals, I achieved in just old fashioned “I can’t believe I’m here” giddiness.

And I still have a hard time believing that I was there because now that I’m back, sitting on my couch, surrounded by Kleenexes and cough drops, it just feels like a dream. A sun-filled, ancient landscaped, pasta-ridden dream.

We arrived in Rome on the 13th and took the train to the city’s main train station (Roma Termini) and walked to the hotel. That sounds like it was easy, doesn’t it? Well, it was and it wasn’t. It was because we stuck to our plan of going “light”—one backpack-style suitcase each. It wasn’t because 17 years of marriage has taught us nothing about communication and we each had our own idea of how to get to the hotel but didn’t tell the other. So, there was a little jostling of the map and grumbling while we dodged traffic and looked for street signs, which are carved onto the sides of the buildings by the way.

Piazza della Republica near the hotel


We found the Hotel Nardizzi, walked into the building, and no hotel. There was an elevator and rooms, but no reception desk. So, I thought, “Hey, maybe we should read the sign again.” Sure enough, it says, Hotel Nardizzi, 4th floor. Thus, Lesson #2 (Lesson #1 being always communicate with your travel partner) is always read the entire sign.

The elevator was one of those old-timey warehouse ones with a cage around it. And it was tiny, I mean tiny. At one point, we put 4 people in it, but I was holding my breath all the way, first to be as thin as possible against the wall so that we all had room in that rectangle and second because that’s what you do when you’re silently praying that you don’t drop to your death.



The Nardizzi was a lovely hotel with the best breakfast of all the hotels we stayed at. I now crave blood red orange juice, cappuccino and a roll for breakfast. Our room had large French doors that opened to a lovely view and just completed the whole experience.

View from hotel window


Our friends, the Cs, hadn’t arrived yet, so we went out exploring, starting with the Santa Maria degli Angeli. It was deceptively huge inside and there was a service going on despite the tourists wandering around. It had a huge pipe organ that we got to hear as part of the service. It’s amazing to be in a seemingly little church that is filled with marble and art work and has a Michelangelo pedigree. The first 2 pictures are outside the church, the other 2 are inside.









Once our friends got there, we continued walking around and looked for a place to eat lunch. This brings me to Lesson #3. Those shoes that you love and walk all over your hometown in might not be worth a damn on the cobblestones of an ancient city. Yes, the shoes that I bought in Italy were Nikes. Best purchase I made the whole trip.

We had our first pizza (a thin-crust margarita with tomato sauce, cheese, and basil) and continued our sight-seeing. We saw the Fontana del Tritone at the Piazza Barberini, then walked over to the Trinita del Monti, at the top of the Spanish Steps. Then we continued to the Piazza del Popolo (which was my favorite word for a while) where they were finishing up a celebration for the anniversary of the police.

Pizza del Popolo


By this time, I was really worn out. It was very hot and humid, and I had been up for 2 days now. All I could think about was that the more we kept walking, the further away from the hotel we were getting. So, M (who has some health issues of her own) and I headed back to the hotel while Al and K walked on.

It was a long, hot walk back. I was pretty miserable by this point and couldn’t even get excited about walking through the high-end shopping district or making a quick detour to see the Trevi Fountain. All I could think about was a cool washcloth over my face, my shoes kicked off, and lying down with the windows open so that a cool breeze could blow across my toes.

By the time Al got back, I was sleeping, and he enjoyed me in a much-needed nap.

After getting cleaned up in the marble bathroom with a bidet, which I never did use or quite get, actually, we went to dinner. We ate at Restarante Target and it was delicious. Our fist day in Italy and we were already eating really, really well. The pasta is freshly made and a perfect consistency. The sauce (mine was tomato-based) is light and doesn’t swallow up the pasta.

The Italians love their meals. They love them so much that they take a few hours, and they expect you to take the time to enjoy your meal, too. I love this. No rushing, no bringing out your second course while you’re still eating your first, no trying to hurry you out of your table so that they can get the next one in for another tip. But that also means you sit for a long time waiting for your server to come by and take your order or bring you water or bring you your bill.

The meals are many courses. There’s the Antipasti, where I ordered the cheeses, pears and honey and our friends ordered the prosciutto and melon. Then comes the Primi, or first course, or pasta course. All kinds of different pastas and sauces, and enough to be a meal on it’s own. The servings are smaller compared to American servings, but they are still filling. Then comes the Secundo, or second course or the entrée. Side dishes are also offered, which come with the second course, so if you want a salad or veggies, you order them separately and get them after your pasta. Then, if you can actually still breathe, you can order cheese or dessert, each a course of its own. For most of our meals, Al and I ordered an antipasto to share and a pasta dish. We just couldn’t do 3 or more courses. However, unlike American restaurants, the Italians don’t care if you share your meal, so it’s also a good option to order an antipasto, share a pasta, then each order an entrée. Or even share the entrée—they don’t care or charge you extra.

And don’t forget the wine! You won’t go wrong with the house wine; it’s always wonderful.

And this was just the first day. It set a pattern for the trip: breakfast, sightseeing in the morning, lunch, sightseeing in afternoon, short break and/or nap, and a dinner that lasts all night. It was heaven.

Sorry

I'm sorry I haven't been around with more tales and photos. I'm working on it, it's just very slow going. I'm having a rough time getting over an allergy attack or maybe it was a cold, I don't know. I just know that it has knocked me on my butt and even though I'm finally feeling better, everything I do exhausts me.

Al's answer is that I should go to the gym, that will help. Well, it probably would, if I could complete any exertion without coughing up a lung and then sleeping for an hour.

I also have been lax in my reading. Sorry about that, too. It's pretty frustrating when even reading wears you out.

I think part of it is also that "post-trip depression" that I always seem to get. You know how it is, 10 days of nothing but fun and excitement, then back to grocery shopping and bill paying. Although, with how busy this year has been, I'm ready for a little more normal and routine.

Plus, Al is going out of town again for about a week and half, so we've been busy getting things ready for his trip. I'm always a little sad when he leaves, but honestly, I'm also a little relieved to have the house to myself for a few days. Going on vacation is wonderful but I don't get any time to myself, so I'll make up for that this coming week by watching chick movies and reading and eating popcorn for dinner. And, the Scottish Highland Games are next weekend in Kansas City. Even though Al isn't here, I'm thinking about going anyway. I just can't resist sheep dog demonstrations.

So, that's what's going on here. Hopefully I'll have more interesting stuff later.

Buon Giorgno!

Yes, we're finally home! We got home late Wednesday, despite train strikes, air traffic control strikes, and airline strikes. We had a wonderful time, but I'm exhausted. I'll write more after I get some rest and do something about these bags under my eyes.

Here are some pictures to keep ya busy until I get back (Al took all the photos). Ciao!

Colosseum

St. Peter's at Vatican in Rome

Hall in the Vatican Museum

Trevi Fountain

Bridge of Sighs, Venice

Morano Glass

Duomo, Florence

Florence

View out the Florence hotel window

Light Lunch

San Gimignano

Pottery

Pisa Tower and Cathedral

Ciao

(map from enchantedlearning.com)


'Tis Herself will be closed while she travels the beautiful cities of Rome, Venice and Florence.

Split

I've spent the last few days vacillating between being excited and having anxiety attacks.

We're leaving for Italy on Saturday. We've only been planning this trip for over a year, so you'd think I'd be totally prepped and anxious to go. Oh, I'm anxious alright. Unfortunately, it's not a good kind of anxious.

I know we'll have a good time. I know I'll love Italy and wonder what took me so long to go there. But I'm still going to a country that I know very little about and speak very little of the language. I've been practicing "No copisco l'italiano" (I don't understand Italian). We'll mostly be in the large cities, so most people will probably speak English, but I want to know somethings to say to be polite. Buon giorno, gratzie, prego, due cauppacino per favore. Now if I can just figure out how to say, "Do you take Visa?" in the shoe store.

The main reason I'm on edge is that it seems the more I read and try to figure out what to do and where to go and how to get there, I just get more confused. My brain doesn't seem to be able to differentiate the names of places and everything seems to be a variation of Piazza. Plus, there are 3 other people going on this trip, but I seem to be the only one who knows how to read a travel guide. Granted, I'm the most anal of all of us, but you'd think they'd want to know something about where we're going. I can see it now: we'll meet downstairs at the hotel and all 3 of them will say, "What are we gonna do? Where are we gonna go? How do we get there?" Actually, it may not be that bad since I went through the guidebooks and emailed everyone about what days the museums are closed and suggested when we should do what. At least there will be 4 of us to figure out the public transportation and that's good because I'm really stressed about figuring out the public transportation.

I've already had a friend talk me down and tell me to get a grip. She lived there for 6 months, so she was a big help in making me feel more excited than anxious.

So, I'm just gonna roll with it. I figure that since I haven't seen anything in Italy, that anything I see will be amazing. I'm not taking a list of things that I have to see and do. And you know how hard it is for me to not have a list, but this will be very good for me.

So, arrivederci amici. I'm off to sort through all my little toiletry bottles and to practice pack. I have to make sure I leave room for the shoes and purses that will be coming home with me.

That's Entertainment

I’ve watched many of those real estate shows, and I’ve noticed an annoying similarity, besides the women saying, “’kay,” when asked if she wants to see the next room. They all “like to entertain.” That is the popular catch phrase. Oh, a walk-in closet is good and a two-sink vanity in the master bath is a real plus, but the kitchen has to be big enough because “we like to entertain.” It’s the latest status-seeking necessity for wanna-be sophisticates.

I don’t think handing out paper towels and paper plates with the Domino’s pizza that was just delivered is the latest definition of “entertaining.” I’m not sure why not though. What could be more fun than sitting on the floor with your best buddies, eating pizza, drinking a beer, and watching a movie? But I don’t think that’s what the couples are talking about on these shows.

They want Martha Stewart-style entertaining. Not that Martha doesn’t have her good points, but she has made a career out of stressing the importance of perfectly pressed napkins and how only stock made from chicken bones should be used in your homemade soup. Fresh flower centerpieces, colorfully matched with the napkins with 5-piece place settings and the proper glasses for tea, water, and red or white wine all became the standard. Oh, and don’t forget the cute name place signs for the ultimate in hostess control.

I admit, that I’m guilty of this attitude, too. Or at least, I used to be. There was a time not so long ago that I would spend weeks planning a party, creating lists and timelines and gathering the perfect serving pieces. Those were huge grocery bills in those days because of course I had to make everything fresh and from scratch—no frozen pizza rolls for my parties. I even breaded and fried my own cheese sticks instead of lowering myself to the ease of frozen.

But sweets, that was where I really went all out: a dense chocolate cake covered in genache, home-made pies (using Martha Stewart’s pie dough recipe, of course), and cookies galore. I would spend at least 3 days mixing, baking, roasting and frying food for a party that would last 3 hours. However, as they say, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t get something out of it. And I did get lots of satisfaction from the compliments and the pride of presentation.

I wasn’t the only one. All of us spouses were around the same age and just coming into our “entertaining years.” We would take turns having parties and trying out new recipes and trying to outdo each other. Martha Stewart was our guru and Food Network our TV Bible.

After awhile, the competition aspect worked it’s way into the planning, and that’s when it stopped being fun. Constantly trying to top the last culinary creation became tiring and ultimately that satisfaction began to wane. I began to get irritated at “having” to make things or have a party. So, like someone having to quit being an addict, I quit cold turkey. No more parties, no more baking cookies for my hubby to take in to work, no Christmas goodies being sent in the mail, and no more buying exotic ingredients that I didn’t know what to do with anyway. Thus, the ending of my “entertaining.”

Until recently, that is. With this new assignment and new job, all of a sudden my anti-social, withdrawn husband has become the host-with-the-most. While I’m thinking of selling a lot of my serving pieces at a garage sale, Al is planning parties. Well, actually, he’s not planning, he’s telling me we should have a party, then I do the planning. But he has opinions about how he wants them to happen now. He has food requests and he’s the one making lists. The lists usually consist of alcohol, but hey, it’s a needed list.

There’s one big difference in our parties now, though. Behold the wonders of the oven! Frozen cheese sticks, frozen quiches, frozen stuffed phyllo thingies, all from oven to table with no fuss and little mess. I even committed the ultimate in making my life easier, instead of cooking burgers and brats on the grill, I went to Famous Dave’s and bought BBQ. They make such good BBQ, why struggle through trying to do it myself when all I have to do is buy a couple of pounds of beef and chicken and put them in crockpots. I even had time to make a couple of my usual goodies—spinach balls and some desserts, plus I had time to get cleaned up and sit around having a beer before everyone started arriving.

And here’s the kicker—I still got compliments on how wonderful everything was. I even gave props to the makers of frozen cheese sticks and Famous Dave, but I got credit for it being such a great idea. And the simplest dessert I make garnered the most praise of anything I’ve done—it was just a trifle dish with layers of angel food cake, smashed strawberries, and Cool Whip. Ah, the easy life.

I wonder, would Martha be proud? Would the fact that I put the already prepared food in pretty Longerberger baskets get me extra presentation points to compensate for my lack of from-scratch cooking? Would the happy kids getting fudge bars from the freezer make up for the Cracker Barrel cheese instead of Brie? Would the laughter and free-flowing single malt compensate for the mix-matched paper plates and plastic utensils? I’d say so.

And despite the fact that I bought this house for resale value, it did turn out to be perfect for entertaining.

Goodnight Sweetheart

I’m so cranky the morning after a sleepless night. I’m kind of cranky in the morning anyway, but even more so when I stay up all night with stream of consciousness never letting up. One night Al told me that I was thinking too loud and it was keeping him awake. Poor dear. Not this night though, he was so tired a train going through the room wouldn't have woken him.

Well, I do have a lot going through my mind. My thoughts kind of went like this:

I’ll be glad when this inspection is over so that Al will relax some and then he can take over some of the worrying I’m doing about the trip to Italy in Oh my God less than 2 weeks. I wish I could figure out what to wear for that trip. The weather is going to be pretty nice, I think, but still warm enough for short-sleeved shirts. I know I have to cover my shoulders in some cathedrals and museums and I think that goes for knees, too. So does that mean I can’t wear the short skirt? Probably. Maybe I should just take a long skirt. Should I wear a skirt at the party Saturday night? The last party we threw, one of the women said she didn’t know she should dress up because I looked dressed up. But I wasn’t. Oh well. Maybe I’d be more comfortable in capris anyway. But that sundress fits better now, but then I really would be over dressed. But Al wants this to be a cookout, which means I’ll be outside most of the time with the food. Usually Al would do that but scotch trumps burgers, so he’ll want to be downstairs educating people on the wonders of the single malt. Except for the kids. The kids. Last time we had a party for Al’s office we had over 40 people come. And that was without kids. It’s not that I mind kids coming, it’s just that they get bored so quickly. Since we don’t have kids, there’s nothing for them to do besides watch movies. How many movies can they watch before they’re bored out of their skulls? Will they even get through one? The last time we had kids around they had more fun throwing things down the laundry chute, then screeching and running down the stairs to the laundry room. Oh shit, if they’re going to be up there again, I really should make sure the sex toys are hidden. That would be embarrassing. Probably shock some people, too. Might even change Al’s call sign, even though he really likes “Single Malt.” I guess the kids could hang out in my craftroom. I could get out stamps and markers and paper and scrapbook stuff. I should probably remove those books on witchcraft. No one would actually ask about them and then wonder about my dark side instead of reading the story I’ve been writing about a family of witches. Not that I’ve done any work on it in a long time. *Sigh*

And on and on and on. Usually at times like that I just get up and watch tv or read. But then there are nights like last night that I just toss and turn and listen to the shades twack against the window frame because the fan is aimed at it. Al slept through it, though. I envy that type of sleep. I usually hit that type around 4 to 6 in the morning.

But I have a new theory. It was the full moon. I’m serious! I’m going to start tracking these nights that I can’t sleep, and I bet they correspond with the phases of the moon. Maybe I could blame my mood swings on it, too.

Well, whatever the reason, I’m tired today and have a very long list of things to do, so I should probably get busy. Although, this couch is awfully comfortable. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a couple of minutessssssssszzzzzzzzzzzz.

Bits and Pieces

We have a wonderful thing here in Omaha called the Intergenerational Orchestra of Omaha. It was started in 1985 by the Office on Aging and brings together musicians of different generations. You can be in the orchestra if you are 50 and older or are 25 and younger. Both learning from each other and playing music—what’s better than that? Their conductor is Chuck Penington, who in addition to all the stars and orchestras he’s worked with, is best known around here as the keyboard artist for “Music of Manheim” and conductor for the Manheim Steamroller Christmas tour.

My friend’s 13-year-old daughter plays violin with this group, and we went to see them a couple of weeks ago. It was called “Pops and Pie,” and was their last concert of the season. They were wonderful, and I got a slice of home-made peach pie. They played Henry Mancini music, so everyone was bobbing their heads to the Peter Gun theme and the Baby Elephant Walk.

It’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’m really a little jealous. What a great opportunity for the kids and what fun for the older people. I’m too young and too old at the same time! Of course, I also don’t play an instrument but that’s beside the point. I can still listen.

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We went to a log home show this weekend. We’re not interested in a log home, but we would like to build a timber frame some day. A timber frame still has the warmth of the wood from the frame of the house, which can be exposed as much as you’d like, but it’s not as clunky or chunky or rustic as some log homes can be. Timberpeg was one of the companies there who do a type of “turn key” house, but there were many local companies who were custom builders. One in Missouri still uses the antique hand tools he’s been using for years.

Here’s a picture of a Timberpeg home. Of course, this is pretty elaborate, but you get the idea of the exposed frame.



One of the things we like about this design is that it’s really easy to have an open floor plan. Space! I need my space! Plus, we’re ready for a smaller footprint, which means I want a smaller house so I can get rid of a lot of stuff and can keep it clean easier. Also, when we finally build or buy “the” house that will be our last or at least close to our last house, I want one level.

We need to set a goal for those investments and stuff, and this seems like a pretty darn good one.

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We watched Casino Royale this week. I knew Daniel Craig was going to be wonderful, at least IMHO. I know people are very territorial about their Bonds, but I’m not a Bond-fanatic, so I can like him all I want.

And after the scene where the bad guy was trying to get information out of a naked Bond sitting in the chair, Al said, “Well, that’s an interesting torture technique.” I think he was a little pale.

But we both liked it.

Well, that’s enough for today.

Open Letter to Christopher Nolan

Dear Mr. Nolan,

I love your movies. I don’t hesitate seeing them because I know I’ll be in for an intense and wonderful experience. I’m not an expert at film-making and am not really interested in how everything is done—that just takes away from the magic. So, this letter isn’t a dissertation of your skill as a writer, director, film-maker, skillful as you are. No, just an old fashioned, “Gosh Mr. Nolan, I really liked your movie” letter.

What brought all this on is that I finally saw The Prestige. I love being challenged and surprised in a movie. I sat enthralled as I watched Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale reading each other’s journals, intermingling real time with flashbacks. I admit to a little confusion at times, but I caught on. I have a problem with always trying to figure out where a movie is going instead of just enjoying where it’s taking me. Once I gave up that control, I enjoyed myself a lot more.

I think the fact that your movies challenge me is what I like best about them. They don’t take the easy way out by telling a straight-forward story. They have layers and elaborate twists of logic and are thought-provoking. The movie may end, but that doesn’t mean my thinking ends. I need time to recover before I can move onto something else. It’s the same when I read a good book; I can’t just pick up another one immediately. I have to contemplate it for a while, and if someone is around, I’ll talk about it. I really should watch your films with someone so that I can have a conversation afterwards.

Memento was mind-bending and brilliant, Insomnia was disturbing, and Batman Begins was fantastic. I can’t wait for The Dark Knight and I still need to see Following; I know I won’t be disappointed.

So, thank you. I’ve enjoyed your movies and look forward to what’s to come.

A Day Like Any Other Day?

Quick Update: Thank you all of you for your happy birthday wishes. New post coming this weekend sometime.


My close friend sent me the perfect birthday card; it expresses exactly how I feel about this birthday.

The outside of the card is a large cat with one of those stares. You know the one—“I’m looking at you but I’m not acknowledging your existence.” It says “It’s your birthday?” And the inside says

Whoop-de-freakin’-doo.

I didn’t always feel this way, just the opposite, actually. I was one of those annoying people who treated birthdays as such a special day that it had to be celebrated. Some people don’t like to acknowledge their birthdays, which I thought was just silly. Why wouldn’t you want a day where it’s all about you? And why wouldn’t others want to celebrate such a special day as my birthday with me?

I was the one beaming while the restaurant employees sang Happy Birthday to me. No feigning embarrassment for me—I wanted to be the center of attention.

So, I’ve always kind of insisted on birthdays being celebrated. Not just my birthday! I wanted everyone to celebrate their birthdays extravagantly. Of course, that way I could justify celebrating my own that way, too.

But I’ve decided to give everyone a break and stop my attention-seeking ways. Last year was a wonderful birthday; Al did a fantastic job making it feel like a special day for me. It’s holding over, and I don’t feel the need to be the center of attention any more. Besides, with our trips this year, my birthday kind of pales in comparison.

And it absolutely has nothing to do with the fact that with this birthday I’m officially in my f-f-f-f-f-forties. Not at all. I have no problem with being in my f-f-f-f-f-forties. OK, I have a little problem with it, but really, what’s so bad about being in your f-f-f, oh hell, never mind.

I think this year I’ll treat it as just another day. Except for the fact that I’m posting about it here for everyone with access to the Internet to possibly see it, thereby practically forcing “happy birthday” comments. Plus, Mom has no doubt written a sweet and slightly embarrassing post about me growing up. Jay has probably mentioned it, too, because that’s just the kind of guy he is. So, I guess there will be a wee bit of celebrating.

Al will take me out to dinner where ever I want to go, so I’m trying to find a place that has the best dessert. Funny how I used to try to find the most exciting and popular place to go, and now I just want a really good slice of cheesecake. My how things change as you get older. Although I did read that women in their forties have some kind of sexual surge, so at least I have that to look forward to.

So, maybe a little celebrating wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe I can find a place with a good dessert and someone to sing happy birthday.

Aww Shucks

I’m so ashamed.

I haven’t been keeping up with my blog reading lately. I go through spurts where I just check in on my brother and my mom, then in whatever time I have, I read other blogs. I get caught up eventually, but I’m usually a couple of posts behind on some of my usual stops.

And that’s how I missed something very kind and flattering. JD at Global Wandering handed out his favorite “thinking” blogs and I was one of them! I’ve come to expect thought-provoking posts on JD’s site, so I was very flattered that he would mention me. If you haven’t been over to JD’s blog, check it out. In addition to commentary on current events, social issues, and travel, you’ll see pictures of the cutest Shih-tzu puppy the family recently got. I’ve learned a lot reading his blog.

And while I’m on a roll, go over and check out Lisa at A Clear View to a New Life. She’s introspective and a fantastic photographer. She comments on everything from her travels to politics to her beloved Chicago Cubs. She even makes baseball interesting to me.

Please don’t think I’ve forgotten the rest of you! I’m not very good at this emotional talk. I’m more in the “you know how I feel about you, right? I don’t have to say, right?” category. I may not keep up, but I always catch up. I’m usually lurking out there somewhere.

So, you know that, right?

The Fuzz

We rarely go to the movies together. Al has what I have come to call “bad movie karma.” Inevitably, a small child who is too young to be there sits next to him or the tobacco-chewing good ol’ boy sits in front of him or the so-much-important-than-you person who can’t be bothered to turn off the cell phone sits behind him, and of course, the phone rings at least once.

So, Al doesn’t go to the movies very often. But this weekend, I made a command decision when my friend R called and asked if we wanted to go to the movies with them. They were going to see Hot Fuzz, even though she really didn’t have any idea what it was about or what to expect. I, on the other hand, couldn’t wait for the movie to come out, and since I knew Al wanted to see it, too, I told him we were going.

Actually, I wasn’t nearly as decisive as that. I told her we’d meet them there but would call if we couldn't make it. Then I asked Al if he would like to go. But I knew he’d say yes.

Hot Fuzz is by the same people who made Shaun of the Dead, which is one of our favorite movies. Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright wrote the screenplay and Wright again directs. Pegg and Nick Frost pair up again, leading a long list of talented and famous actors, including Timothy Dalton, Jim Broadbent and Edward Woodward just to name a few.

So, you knew I’d love it, right? Well, I did. It’s hilarious and oh so very clever. I don’t think calling it a parody, which some do, does it justice. Hot Fuzz is an homage to cop movies. They take their adoration very seriously, as they did with zombie movies in Shaun. Even within the movie, there’s Danny (Frost) who loves cop movies and peppers newcomer Angel (Pegg) with questions, wondering if he had ever done the things he’s seen in the movies. And as the movie goes on, he’s able to act out all his favorite movie moments.

Londoner Angel (Pegg) is an outstanding police officer (not policeman, that’s sexist). He’s so good that he’s making everyone else look bad, so he’s transferred to quiet and quaint Sandford. There is no crime in Sandford, but there are an awful lot of accidents. Angel begins to think there’s more to these “accidents” and starts investigating, uncovering the serial killing of townspeople. To tell you any more would ruin the fantastic second half of the film.

Pegg and Frost are brilliant. This is not Shaun of the Dead in police uniforms. No recycling here—new story, new characters, new conflicts.

The jokes are so fast and so many that you may want to see it twice to try to catch them all. And then, unless you know every cop and cop-buddy movie inside and out, I’m sure you’ll still miss something. But in the end, who the hell cares? Just enjoy it because it’s good movie.

Good Eatin'

The Nebraska Food Co-op has been operating for a little over a year, and I’m so glad to have found it. This is my first foray into a food co-op and so far so wonderful.

The Co-op encompasses everything I’ve been wanting: local food produced by local farmers; hormone-, pesticide-, and herbicide-free food; and the opportunity to develop a relationship with the farmers I buy from.

I have gone to local Farmer’s Markets, but I have to get there really early to get the good stuff. Since getting there early means 8:00 on a Saturday morning, I don’t get there very often. Plus, the markets are only from May until August or September. I do like being able to walk around and look at the food, but the largest market, which is downtown, is starting to turn into everything but farm products. Not that I mind the Greek food booth selling baklava or the home-made salsa, but I’d like to fill my basket (yes, I take a basket) with food I can go home and cook.

Once a month, the Co-op posts the Product List for customers. At my leisure, I can read through all the offerings with detailed descriptions about the food and a link to information about the farm. Then the ordering window opens, and I place my order online. Then I pick it up, come home, and cook!

It’s still a little early for the vegetables and there’s not an abundance of those anyway from Nebraska farms, being a beef-centric kind of state, but what I got was great. For my first order, I got some raw unfiltered honey, free-range eggs (which were beautiful, pic below), Chevre cheese (goat’s milk), and skirt steak. So, for dinner, we had a frittata with Chevre and toast, spread with butter and honey. I think I’ll marinate the steak tomorrow then make fajitas. Or maybe I’ll sprinkle it with Italian seasonings, grill it, slice it thinly, and layer it on toasted baguette slices with tomatoes and some more of that creamy cheese. I just don’t know yet.



I can’t wait to see what they’ll have next month!

Tidbits

As I type this, my eyes are dilated because I had my eyes checked today. They’re in good shape, except that they’re getting older and small print is a little harder to read. But they’re fine, which is good because trouble with the optic nerve is very common with MS.

I have a separate appointment to get new contacts and to be re-trained on putting them in. I hate putting in my contacts. They’re large and they let oxygen in so they are comfortable, but I keep missing my eyeball and it takes me forever to get them in. I mentioned this to the MS nurse and she said it could be the MS, so when I told the lady who handles contacts she offered to sit down with me and help me figure out a way to put them in so that it won’t be so frustrating. I never even thought about that. I’ve taken such a strong attitude of just living my life as usual and living with whatever symptoms pop up, that it never occurred to me that there could be help out there! What a concept. Other people have this disease or work with people with this disease and they know some tricks on how to get around the irritating things.

Ya learn something every day. Thank goodness.

________________________

My friend that I attend a quilt group with said she found the perfect t-shirt for me in the latest Signals catalogue. It says “English Major. You Do The Math.” I wanted to put a picture of it here, but the website cleverly disabled my right click. So, you’ll just have to go there to see it.

There were some other clever t-shirts:

As soon as I finish this chapter (see here)

Lead me not into temptation . . . especially bookstores (see here)

Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel (see here)

The Queen is not amused. (see here)
Silly Boys. Trucks are for girls. (see here)

Am I getting older or is the supermarket playing great music? (see here)

Al got me a t-shirt that said “does anal retentive need a hyphen” But it irritated me because it was a question, but it didn’t start with a capital letter nor end with a question mark.

Telling, ain't it?

For the Victims

Please pray for the families who lost their loved ones at the terrifying shooting at Virginia Tech. Please keep the injured in your thoughts and hope for their quick recovery.

Let's also hope and pray for healing for the people touched by this tragic event.

Weekend Warriors

There are a lot of great things about being a stay-at-home wife, and things have been going pretty smoothly around here, so I'm not complaining. But there is one drawback--all the days run together and weekends aren't that big a deal. Because Al works during the week, many of our weekends are spent doing yard work, cleaning cars, fixing things around the house, and if he's the one doing the work outside, I'm usually doing something like laundry or cleaning or knitting while inside. And that's just not much different than what I do during the week.

But this weekend, no work, only fun.

Saturday I went to the ladies' spring luncheon at our church. We learned how to arrange flowers, which I've never been very good at. By the end of our lesson, each of the groups had made a lovely arrangement.

The man who was our teacher was a retired chemistry teacher. For his retirement, he's been growing irises and entering flower arranging competitions. He was really very helpful because he put flower arranging in very concrete, almost mathematical terms. First choose a line (like a tall iris or a cattail) and put that in the center. Then choose your focal flower (peonies today), something bright and big, and put those (for example, two in the front) on either side of the line, forming a triangle. Then add all the fillers around to cover up the foam you've been sticking the flowers in and to balance the other flowers. Oh, and don't forget the long, skinny blades of grass--they look very cool in the arrangement. It helped me to think of analytically--my creative mind tends to lean towards the technical sometimes, so this was a nice way to use both sides of my brain.

But here's the funny thing. At one point he turned around to us and said, "I hope these colors look good together. I'm color blind and it's hard for me to tell." What? A color-blind iris grower and flower arranger? Purple looks blue to him. That's just too wild. No wonder he uses the overall shape to dictate the arrangement.

Anyway, we had a nice lunch of salads and dessert (everyone brought one or the other), and I won one of the flower arrangements. I rarely win door prizes.

The best thing, though, was that while I was at the luncheon, Al went to the open house at the BMW motorcycle shop, so I didn't have to go! They are very nice people, but they like to talk about their near-death experiences on the bikes. It's not something I want to hear as I'm watching Al suit-up to test ride an R-1200. So, it was nice to have an excuse to miss it without hurting his feelings.

We went out to dinner Saturday night to the new brewery in town--Lazlo's. The beer was great, the food was awesome, and we talked all through dinner. This is a pretty momentous thing because Al is really quite, even with me, and we've had many a conversation-less dinner.

Sunday was just as busy and a very fun day. The weather was gorgeous--not a cloud in the sky and mid 60s. We put the top down on the Miata and headed out.

First we went to Mahoney State Park for an Art Show and Rib Fest. Now, these aren't as polar opposites as you would think. Most of the paintings and photographs were wildlife art. So, somehow looking at paintings of pheasants, wolves, and bears fit right in with the cowboy-themed rib dinner outside.

The art show was in the lodge:



And we rode the trolly around the park before heading out.



But we didn't eat here because our next stop was the Czech Folk Festival, and we both were salivating for kolaches.

Who knew there was such a large Czech population in Omaha, NE?!? The place was packed!

There was band



And polka dancing





And there were booths of games for the kids and products from the Czech Republic for sale (mostly Christmas ornaments and crystal).

But *sniff* all the kolaches were gone *sniff*. And we were so looking forward to those. I was going to use up all my extra calories for the day on one of those *sniff*.

Oh well, it was fun anyway. But we didn't stay much longer once we realized there were no more baked goods. Instead we went to Paradise Bakery and split a chicken sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. It wasn't the same but it was damn good.

So, banner day for Kell. It actually felt like a weekend.

Goodies in the Mail

Newt had a contest and I won! I won good. She sent me my prize and look what I got:





Does she know me well, or what? She made the jewelry (check out the cool closing clasp on the bracelet) and post-its with the book! I'm starting the book today. I've been wanting to read it for a long time, so I guess the Harry Potter re-reads will just have wait.

Thanks, Newt. I can't wait for the next contest!

In other news in Kell's world, I’m knitting a shawl for my friend I’m going to Italy with. Not only is her birthday happening while we are there, but also her husband has bought her an expensive dress so that they can get dressed up and go out to dinner while we are there. Al and I are passing on that, BTW. I like getting dressed up, but I don’t want to bring all that stuff with me. And Al’s idea of a special night isn’t defined as wearing a suit and paying a lot of money for a little bit of food with a lot of sauce around it. He likes it more than he used to, and he did say that if I want to go, we’ll go. But nah.

Anyway, her husband bought her a dress, and I said I would make her a soft, pretty shawl to go with it. Me and my big mouth. I forgot about his taste, so it’s been a struggle trying to find a good yarn to go with it and to decide on a pattern. The dress is metallic green and gold and strapless. I was thinking it would be a little black dress with a little bling, but no, it’s a lot of bling. She’ll look lovely in it, and even though it’s not my style, it is pretty.

So, I bought an ivory silk yarn. It has a little shimmer and it feels luxurious. I was going to make a rectangle shawl because I thought it would be more dramatic, but after 4 goes at this thing and not being happy with any of them, I’m making a triangular one with no pattern instead. It’s just easier. I’m also knitting it on larger needles so that it will look kind of lacey and because I have, of course, waited until the last minute and now have to knit in my sleep to get it done in time.

That's all for today. Y'all have a great weekend.

Withdrawls

Two more weeks of the Winter Weigh Down program at the base hospital. One more weigh-in, then they’re going to cut us lose. They’ve given us the sample menu, the food diary know-how to keep track of what little calories we’re allowed in a day, the pages and pages of what to have instead of that cookie or those chips, and the calorie-counting cards that tell us how many calories and how much fat is in fast food, so as to scare us off forever. All of us in our group have done very well sticking to the plan, writing everything down, making good choices, eating the correct portion size, and it shows in our weight loss.

But I just have one question. How the hell do skinny people eat like this all the time?!? I’m going to turn in to a freakin’ carrot. Healthy schmealthy, I want a hamburger and a sugar cookie with a bunch of gooey icing on it.

You know, I might feel differently if after losing almost 30 pounds in the last year someone would say, “Wow! How much weight have you lost? You look great!” But no. Doesn’t happen. My friend M that I’m doing this with said that the nutritionist that she’s been working with was deliriously happy to tell M that she has lost enough weight that she was no longer morbidly obese and she was now just obese. There’s a compliment in there somewhere.

They had someone from Life Skills come talk to us about the psychological side of weight loss—how to stay focused and on target. So, I asked him “I’ve read that I should reward myself for my short term goals that I achieve. But a reward to me would be food, like cheesecake. So, how do I overcome that first thought being for food?” He said that I could have that cheesecake, just not to overdo it. And another lady turned around to me and said, “You’ll get to where you just don’t want that because you’re changing your lifestyle.” Uh huh. OK. But no one would tell an alcoholic that she could have that beer, just don’t over do it. That’s extreme, but you’ve never seen me at a bakery. He just didn’t want to come out and tell me that it all comes down to me making that decision. I hate all that personal accountability stuff.

But one of the ladies at my table understood me. She said that she just can’t stop herself from eating ice cream. She loves it, it satisfies something in her, and she can’t seem to only have it in moderation. The guy from Life Skills said that she should just look in the mirror and admire how good she’s looking and think about how she wants to look even better and that can be her encouragement.

Him: “What do you say when you look in the mirror?”
Her: “Hi Mom! When did you get here?”

It would probably help if I would stop watching Food Network all the time. It seems that every time I turn it on, they are focusing on sweets or fried foods. Al says I’m the person advertisers live for—I’m so suggestible.

Actually, Food Network is on right now. They’re going to make sweet potato cheesecake. Oh dear. Hey, that would be a healthy choice, right? Sweet potatoes are a better choice, right? Isn’t it a veggie? A starch veggie, but a veggie all the same.

No? OK, OK. I’ll get the carrots.

UPDATE: I've added a post on my travel blog. This one is about arriving in Islay and the Bunnahabhain distillery. And it's only half a day!

Catching Up on My Reading

I've read a couple of books in the last few week that I haven't talked about. I bought both of them at a used bookstore in Inverness. Some women want to look for jewelry or clothes while on vacation, I like to find the used bookstores. This was a small one that we just stumbled on. I found out later that there was a large used bookstore just a couple of streets over! Oh well, next time.


Anyway. I read Hidden Depths by Joyce Holmes on the plane ride home. I've tried one of Holmes's books in this series before and had a hard time getting into it, but I really enjoyed this one.

Tom Buchanan is a barrister in Edinburgh. Throughout the series, he is drawn into mysteries by Fizz Fitzpatrick, a free spirit who is trying to settle down into a law career. She started as a clerk, but now she has taken over Buchanan's job in the firm he has left. They go to great extremes to ignore the attraction between them. And what was annoying in Fizz earlier in the series (her stubbornness, her lack of compassion) have softened a little and become almost endearing in this book.

Fizz gets a call from her old friend Kerr, telling her that Irene, another old friend and Kerr's wife, has disappeared. They are living on a Scottish estate, and Irene was restoring art work in the home. Unfortunately, the Rubens she was working on has also disappeared, and everyone assumes Irene must have taken it and run off. Everyone except Fizz and Kerr believes that.

The mystery unfolds, and Buchanan and Fizz are once again working together. What I really liked about this book is the way Holmes alternated her point-of-view in chapters featuring each of the two main characters. So, chapter 1 is from Buchanan's point-of-view, chapter 2 is from Fizz's point-of-view, and so on. It works for me because it keeps me interested and I feel like I really understand these characters. And I think a whole book from just one point-of-view would be boring (in the case Buchanan) or annoying (in the case of Fizz).


The second book I read was Tell No One by Harlan Coben. I haven't read any of his books before, but a friend recommended them. I picked out one that is not part of his mystery series featuring Myron Bolitar.

In this book, David Beck has tried to rebuild his life after his wife, Elizabeth, was killed by a serial killer and he was left for dead. But he's loved Elizabeth since the second grade, and he can't let her go. Then one day he gets an email that only Elizabeth could have sent, and an image of her caught on a street camera mouths the words, "I'm sorry."

The case reopens when bodies are unearthed as well as a bat with Beck's blood on it. Now, he's suspected of killing his wife. But the more he investigates, the more horrible facts come to the surface, and Beck doesn't know who he can trust any more.

The story was gripping and exciting, with enough twists to keep me reading. For the most part, it is in first person, narrated by Beck. Other characters have their own chapters and sections of chapters, but they are not in first person. So, there is no confusing who this story is about.

I don't usually like stories where the main character is on the run and having to prove his innocence to the dull-witted and arrogant police. I find them frustrating. But it is only one aspect of this story, and it didn't bother me.

Next, I think I'm going to re-read a couple of the Harry Potter books to get ready for the release of Book 7. I don't remember very much about 5 or 6. I remember not liking 5 very much, so I wonder if I'll feel differently now.

Have a wonderful weekend and Happy Easter

For All the Nerds Out There

I watched Wordplay the other day. This movie is a documentary about the NY Times Crossword Puzzles and the people who play them and the people who create them. I really liked it, especially the part where the guy creates a puzzle using the theme WORD PLAY right there in front of the camera! That was just too cool.

So, how big a nerd am I that I liked a movie about crossword puzzles?

Politics As Usual

Typical.

Bush can't get what he wants, so he waits until everybody's back is turned, then he does it any way.

Bush appointed John Bolton UN ambassador. But with spring break, everyone's gone, so who's to stop him? Bolton is secured the position until a new Congress comes in, which will be January 2007.

The papers like to tout Kerry as the reason Bolton's nomination was refused, but there were plenty of reasons not to appoint him ambassador besides his connection to Swift Boat.

According to the CNN website, "as undersecretary for state for arms control and disarmament, Bolton tried to get intelligence analysts who disagreed with him transferred or fired." And Senate members accused Bolton of providing false information on the questionnaire when he didn't admit that he had been "questioned by the department's inspector general as part of a joint probe by the State Department and CIA into allegations that Iraq attempted to obtain uranium from Niger in Africa." Oh, he's admitted it since. Last week. And in the "business as usual" category, the administration cited "executive privilege" in not releasing documents the Senate called for during the nomination process.

Bush said that he did this because we couldn't wait to fill this position in this time of war, even though his refusal to release information delayed things.

But Bolton is a harsh critic of the UN, as is his party, so where better to send him than the UN. I guess they think he's really going to clean things up there.

Reading this in the morning paper was not a good start to my day.

Oh, also in the news, the LA Times says that "in a direct challenge to Congress and the way it does business, the White House on Wednesday unveiled an online list of all the pet spending projects lawmakers tucked in the federal budget for the 2004-05 fiscal year."

Interesting way to put that. It makes it sounds like this was all Bush's idea. But it was the Democrats who were pushing for this reform, unable to do anything until they were in control. You'll also notice that the information goes only up to 2005. That may be because according to the Congressional Research Service, "under Republican congressional leadership, the amount of federal funds earmarked has nearly tripled since 1994, reaching $67.1 billion in fiscal 2006." (Quote from related article in the LA Times. Go here to read it.)

Oh, and none of the earmarks requested by the administration were included, so it lists fewer earmarks than other resources. However, the LA Times says that some of this will be addressed next year, "when congressionally authorized earmark disclosure data are released." After Bush leaves office?

Politics. I feel like I need another shower.

Lessons Learned

When Fixing Things

Al spent hours--hours!--trying to fix the headlight on his motorcycle on Saturday. He took off plastic stuff, changed the light bulb, and got scratches on his knuckles. Then on Sunday, since nothing else seemed to work, he decided to check the fuse. He came inside and showed it to me and said, "Do you see anything wrong?" I looked, and sure enough, it was cracked and I told him so. He said, "So what have we learned?" I don't know. "Always check the fucking easy stuff first!" It took him, I think, 30 minutes to fix it.

When Completing a Project

Is it all men, or just the ones around me? They never estimate enough time to complete a project. The guy who did our bathroom remodel (pics coming soon), said he should have it done by the time we got back from Scotland. But he ran into some problems, including another job that he didn't finish when he thought he would, and didn't get as far as he thought he would. Then he said he'd have the majority done on Wednesday and finish up on Friday because he was going out of town on Thursday. But he didn't get as far on Wednesday as he hoped. And he got back later on Friday than he planned, so now it was going to be Saturday. But not to worry! It should only take a couple of hours. He got there around 1 (an hour later than he planned) and he left around 9 that night. The same kind of thing happens when Al works on the car. So, when I'm told it'll take so many hours, I just double it in my head and tack on an extra day.

When Eating Out

I have a favorite restaurant here, Wheatfields. It's a great place with a huge menu of comfort foods. They have the best quiche, and when my friend called wanting to go to lunch, we knew just where to go. In addition to the great menu choices, they have a phenomenal bakery, which you see and smell first when you walk in. I quickly scanned all the yummy caloric offerings as I headed to the table where my friend was. The servings are huge, so I was a good girl and only ate half of my meal. But even eating half, I was really full. I had every intention of getting an Easter Egg-shaped sugar cookie with lots of gooey icing as I left, but I was just too full. And it was just after 12, so it was packed with people. So, I *sniff* decided to be good, again, and not get one. Next time, I'm going to eat dessert first. Or at least get one and take it home with me to eat later.

Quickies

If you can complete the crossword puzzle without cheating, you're going to have a great day.

If you ask someone to call you back, he or she will do it while you're in the shower.

If you tell your husband about an upcoming event 3 times, he'll still forget about it because it didn't include power tools, cars, or motorcycles.

If you buy a big-ass snowblower, the military will move you to the deep south on your next assignment (hasn't happened yet, but we're waiting).

If you check the mail but it's not there, it will come as soon as you step back inside your house.

If you put away the winter clothes and turn off the heat, there will be one more cold snap.


Well, that's all I can think of for now. So, what have you learned?