Another of the stray cats that visit our yard. Howl, the cat (if you heard him meow, you'd understand the name!) seems to think he has sought and found sanctuary at the foot of our Blessed Mother!
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Knowing where to go for help . . .
Another of the stray cats that visit our yard. Howl, the cat (if you heard him meow, you'd understand the name!) seems to think he has sought and found sanctuary at the foot of our Blessed Mother!
Blogged with my husband's permission . . .!
Twice a week, I get to spend two hours in the college parking lot waiting for my son to get finished with his history class. We live a distance from the college and with the price of gas, it is more advantageous to our budget for me to park and stay put. I actually enjoy my two hours of 'free' time in order to work on crocheting/knitting projects that I don't have time to work on at home.
This morning, like all the other school mornings, I grabbed my crocheting bag and followed my son out the door to the car. For once, we got off in a timely manner, traffic was smooth, and I got my favorite parking place. My son sauntered off to this calls and I reached for my crocheting. My yard was there, my instruction book was there, but dig as I might (and several times over!), my trusty crochet hook was not in the bag. With a very deep sigh, I recalled using it the night before to finish off the border on an afghan and setting it on my side table instead of directly back into my bag. I'm there with two hours, no book or magazine and absolutely no crochet hook.
I called my husband for sympathy and he gave me a verbal 'there, there' understanding my frustration. Okay, the phone call used us three of my two hours of minutes. I listened to the news and searched under the car seats for any kind of reading material. I was reading a coupon booklet from the grocery store (fascinating prose, by the way - sarcasm alert!) when my cell phone rang and it was my husband. He said he had to head into work early and could drop by with my crochet hook so where was it. I happily said it was on the table by my chair. He looked and asked, "There is a silver one and a gold one here." I didn't remember having a silver one but the one I had been using was sort of yellowish gold. My husband has some colorblindness so I didn't quibble over his kindess and said to just bring both.
Twenty minutes later, he pulls up and hand me the two items and I just started laughing. He had brought an orange and a pink knitting needle. Luck was with us and he didn't feel too badly as the needles were the same size and I said I could begin knitting a scarve or shawl.
My husband says he now knows for sure what a crochet hook is but I had to remember that it took him awhile to recognize a paisley pattern! The remark brought back memories when we had to bring all four of our much younger children with us to the fabric store. Everyone wanted to help. One day, I really needed to concentrate so when my husband asked what I was looking for, I said I needed him to go find paisley-patterned fabric. He happily went off with the four children. A few minutes later, my older son was yanking on my sleeve. He said, "Dad wants to know, what's paisley?"
This morning, like all the other school mornings, I grabbed my crocheting bag and followed my son out the door to the car. For once, we got off in a timely manner, traffic was smooth, and I got my favorite parking place. My son sauntered off to this calls and I reached for my crocheting. My yard was there, my instruction book was there, but dig as I might (and several times over!), my trusty crochet hook was not in the bag. With a very deep sigh, I recalled using it the night before to finish off the border on an afghan and setting it on my side table instead of directly back into my bag. I'm there with two hours, no book or magazine and absolutely no crochet hook.
I called my husband for sympathy and he gave me a verbal 'there, there' understanding my frustration. Okay, the phone call used us three of my two hours of minutes. I listened to the news and searched under the car seats for any kind of reading material. I was reading a coupon booklet from the grocery store (fascinating prose, by the way - sarcasm alert!) when my cell phone rang and it was my husband. He said he had to head into work early and could drop by with my crochet hook so where was it. I happily said it was on the table by my chair. He looked and asked, "There is a silver one and a gold one here." I didn't remember having a silver one but the one I had been using was sort of yellowish gold. My husband has some colorblindness so I didn't quibble over his kindess and said to just bring both.
Twenty minutes later, he pulls up and hand me the two items and I just started laughing. He had brought an orange and a pink knitting needle. Luck was with us and he didn't feel too badly as the needles were the same size and I said I could begin knitting a scarve or shawl.
My husband says he now knows for sure what a crochet hook is but I had to remember that it took him awhile to recognize a paisley pattern! The remark brought back memories when we had to bring all four of our much younger children with us to the fabric store. Everyone wanted to help. One day, I really needed to concentrate so when my husband asked what I was looking for, I said I needed him to go find paisley-patterned fabric. He happily went off with the four children. A few minutes later, my older son was yanking on my sleeve. He said, "Dad wants to know, what's paisley?"
The Cat is trying to convey a message . . .
Our uninvited cat has a way of staring at us as if he is trying to convey some message. From his reactions to people, his instant purring, and sweet disposition, he was obviously raised happily. When he manages to scurry into our house, he knows his way around. If we open a can, he is there instantly as he knows that often means food is going to follow. I think he is trying to tell us that he is our cat and why can't we remember that? For now, we offer him kibble and fresh water on the front porch. He is an ancient old guy so we let him sun on the window sill outside our window and scratch his chin when he comes wandering around. It would be interesting to know his previous history. It would be very sad to find out that someone had just dumped the elderly feline especially since he had obviously been someone's spoiled baby.Thank you?
The advent of the Internet means of communication has, in a large part, reduced civility in the world! It wears away at polite society because it makes it too easy to be polite. And, we all know that the easier something gets to be, the easier it is to just not do it at all.
I was raised back in the olden days when every little gift received earned a hand-written thank you note. Today, in spite of all the modern conveniences that save us time, we always seem to be rushing and thank you notes go by way of an e-mail transmission. Now, I have absolutely no problem with this, however, something made too easy often doesn't get done at all. The importance has been removed.
My favorite 'thank you' to date involved a gift I sent to a friend of a friend. The only reason I know the person happened to like it was a note on Facebook that said, "Tell Barbara 'thank you'" Okay, something akin to a thank you was produced but a second or third hand one just doesn't have quite the same impact!
This incident made me promise myself to try and send hand-written thank you notes in the future but, if time goes by and you wonder, check your e-mail! : - )
I was raised back in the olden days when every little gift received earned a hand-written thank you note. Today, in spite of all the modern conveniences that save us time, we always seem to be rushing and thank you notes go by way of an e-mail transmission. Now, I have absolutely no problem with this, however, something made too easy often doesn't get done at all. The importance has been removed.
My favorite 'thank you' to date involved a gift I sent to a friend of a friend. The only reason I know the person happened to like it was a note on Facebook that said, "Tell Barbara 'thank you'" Okay, something akin to a thank you was produced but a second or third hand one just doesn't have quite the same impact!
This incident made me promise myself to try and send hand-written thank you notes in the future but, if time goes by and you wonder, check your e-mail! : - )
Ahead of my time . . . !
When I started being more careful of my diet, I soon realized that even fresh orange juice was hardly better for me than a soda. Sure, it had Vitamin C but it packed the same amount of fructose as a soft drink. There may be a history of how juice came into being and ended up as a staple on our breaksfast table and in our children's lunch boxes, but, it isn't all that good for you!
My favorite breakfast (when I'm splurging) is eggs, toast and a big glass of freshly made orange juice. Now, my favorite breakfast (which happens about once a year!) includes a very small glass of juice and some fresh, whole fruit. Face it, you can't eat as many oranges as you can drink in a glass of juice.
My son and are, however, are advocates of green smoothies instead of lunch. I was gifted with a blender that grinds up just about anything. We compose our smoothies of fresh broccoli, apple, Kiwi, fresh spinach, and peeled orange sections, all spun with ice for a smooth texture. It feeds our desire for fruit juice in a much better way. It is great on those hot, summer afternoons when you are hungry but too warmly uncomfortable to eat.
Our doctor was happily shocked when she found out that we did not serve our children milk at the dinner table. Unless we are having a party or special event, we only serve water with our meals with ice as an option! The children fill up on their meal not soda and sugar. They've all survived to go to college so it wasn't too bad an idea!
I had to smile a bit smugly this morning when a newspaper headline stated that juice was not good for us in the large amounts it is being consumed. They should have asked me years ago! : - )
My favorite breakfast (when I'm splurging) is eggs, toast and a big glass of freshly made orange juice. Now, my favorite breakfast (which happens about once a year!) includes a very small glass of juice and some fresh, whole fruit. Face it, you can't eat as many oranges as you can drink in a glass of juice.
My son and are, however, are advocates of green smoothies instead of lunch. I was gifted with a blender that grinds up just about anything. We compose our smoothies of fresh broccoli, apple, Kiwi, fresh spinach, and peeled orange sections, all spun with ice for a smooth texture. It feeds our desire for fruit juice in a much better way. It is great on those hot, summer afternoons when you are hungry but too warmly uncomfortable to eat.
Our doctor was happily shocked when she found out that we did not serve our children milk at the dinner table. Unless we are having a party or special event, we only serve water with our meals with ice as an option! The children fill up on their meal not soda and sugar. They've all survived to go to college so it wasn't too bad an idea!
I had to smile a bit smugly this morning when a newspaper headline stated that juice was not good for us in the large amounts it is being consumed. They should have asked me years ago! : - )
All these quotes are in line with today's mentality . . .
"If we were to wake up some morning and find that everyone was the
same race, creed and color, we would find some other cause for prejudice by
noon."
-- George Aiken
-- George Aiken
"Conceit is God's gift to little men."
-- Bruce Barton
-- Bruce Barton
"People demand freedom of speech as a compensation for the freedom
of thought which they seldom use."
-- Soren Kierkegaard
-- Soren Kierkegaard
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