Trick-or-treat

There's only one hour left before we light our Jack-o-lanterns,  pour our cheap sale candy into a bowl, and perch ourselves at the front door of our porch.  Normally, I wouldn't publish buying something to give away that I don't even want to eat myself; that doesn't put me in a very good light.  My husband and I have a reason for not buying the best, or even middle-grade Halloween treats.  You see, the history of past years indicates that we will receive from 300 to 600 trick-or-treaters tonight.  It's not that we live in a large city, but we have been told, by our neighbors, how busloads of families from other towns come here and disembark at the church on the corner.  Well, you guessed it; that corner leads straight down our road.  I'm not sure how many of our neighbors will answer their doors, or how many will "not be home" as they crouch low and out of sight pretending to be gone, but we love handing out treats.  I hope we will still feel that way by the end of the night.  I hope no one is disappointed in what we have to give.  Let's hope that the thrill of the hunt, along with getting to dress up and stay out late, will satisfy the needs of all who come our way.  I'll hope the same (no tricks) for you and your neighborhood, too.

Who doesn't count their candy when they get home?  This is called, "Count the Glass".  (Please no glass with the candy, though!)

My Kalamazoo Civic Theater Earworm

You know something has made an impression when it gives you an earworm.  According to Wikipedia, an "earworm" is described as a "stuck song syndrome".  If this has ever happened to you, then you know what I'm talking about.  I've never actually counted the number of days that any particular song has played over and over in my head, but I think I may be approaching upon a new record number with this latest tune.  I go to bed with it, wake up with it, and am cognizant of it throughout the entire day.  If I didn't know better, I'd say I was being paid back for saying, on my way to the theater, "There's no way I'll enjoy a civic production of Les Miserables as much as I loved the movie".  Well, even though the cast of the Kalamazoo Civic Theater's rendition of Les Mis consists of unpaid actors and actresses, their performance far surpassed my expectations.  Even now, I'm shaking my head and wondering why those talented singers are not richly famous somewhere.  Three days later, I'm still in awe.  Kudos to that fine group of men, women, and children for giving their God-given talents away for free.  If only I could get rid of this earworm.............. 

It was an easy choice today.  What would a stage production be without stage lights?  This beach glass picture is called, "Amber Lights".

Just Google It

The cover to our 1920's doorbell chime is missing.  How do I know it's from the 1920's if I don't know what it looks like?  Easy.  I Googled it.  In the same way that I found out how to make butternut squash soup and cheesy garlic biscuits, I used the internet to find a picture of what used to hang over our front door.  The vertical chime chambers are still there, so when I asked Google, "What do old doorbells look like?", I eventually found a picture that matched.  The size, and the "ding" sound when the doorbell is pressed in, followed by the "dong" sound when the button pops out, all fit the description I had clicked.  Even as I write my post each day, I usually end up going to Google with a punctuation or grammar question.  It seems that nothing is out of our reach when it comes to free information, and while I am grateful, there is another side to this phrase we have coined.  Had I not been able to "Google it", I would have called my mom or a friend and had an actual conversation regarding squash soup.  I would have gone to our small town library to look up old doorbells.  While there, I'm quite sure I would have experienced the social interaction that is lacking in the quick fix of Google.  So there you have it.  Quick and easy vs. the time consuming human side.  At least we have a choice.

Recently, a friend gave me her recipe for a special holiday treat, so my photo choice is this one called, "Sea Candy".

Treasures in Time

Some treasures are worth more than others; those that were lost, and are now found, are the best.  Timing plays a role in the value of such treasures.  When I was given a file folder containing eight handwritten pages of narratives concerning two disks of 132 family pictures, I am ashamed to admit, I put them aside for later.  That was in December of 2004, and today, almost nine years later, these ignored and forgotten treasures have resurfaced.  After reading through the pages, I could hardly wait to see the corresponding photos of relatives two and three generations before me.  Among them were bomber pilots, shop owners, and even a movie star. 

Not all of the photos were of people I never knew.  I recognized most of my loved ones, even in pictures of their younger days before I was born.  Then, there were the pictures of my siblings and myself with our parents.  It was really something to visit the places, people, and things of my past that I thought I would never see again.  This priceless treasure couldn't have come at a better time.  You see, the person who put it all together for me, even though it must have taken weeks to complete, doesn't remember doing it.  Thankfully, she does still know who I am, but when she no longer does, I won't have to depend upon my memory to recall when she could.

The song, "Like the Windmills of Your Mind" made me think of this photo called, "Sea Glass Windmill".

Furnace vs. Space Heaters

Where I live, natural gas for home-heating is much cheaper than using electric space heaters.  So why is this a matter of debate?  Maybe it isn't for you and yours, but for my husband and myself, it's constantly the subject of disagreement.  One of us feels that the only rooms that should be heated are the ones currently occupied, meaning, heat one or two rooms with space heaters while the rest of the house is cold.  The other believes in running the gas furnace at a reasonable temperature, deeming the space heaters unnecessary.  One way, less space heated means there is less money spent.  The other, while more space is heated, the actual cost is just a little more than the two room theory.  Plus, there's the added bonus of comfort, no matter where we go in the house.  I'm not going to say which preference is mine.  I'm not trying to be the "winner".  As usual, I'm just curious to know if anyone out there has the same discussion as often as we do.  If you have found an answer to the furnace vs. space heater dilemma, I'm open to suggestions and would love to hear from you.  Tomorrow's debate:  cool beans vs. warm ones.

"Stripes and Crystals" caught my attention for today's post, because I don't want to see any crystals forming on my windows!  Stay warm.

Thirteen Pictures

After counting the number of beach glass pictures remaining, that haven't yet been shared on this blog, I've come to a decision.  Starting next week, there will be no post on Wednesdays.  I only have 13 pictures left, and this plan would enable me to spread them out a little longer.  Believe it or not, photographing beach glass is not as easy as you may think.  It's difficult on many levels.  First, I've got to find new pieces of glass, and it is just not as plentiful as it once was.  I suppose I could use pieces from old collections, and I may have to resort to that, but I prefer not to.  Next, the reason I stopped taking pictures in the first place, was because it seemed as though I had lost my touch.  Nothing came out right anymore.  The composition appeared to be fine on the screen, but printing was a disaster and very expensive.  I suppose, however, that I wouldn't have to print new pictures if they are only for the blog, so who knows?  A better question might be, who cares?  Does this blog really matter?  Will its end come 13 pictures from now? 

Sharing "Sea Glass Over Light" puts the number down to 12.

Going Waveless

This just doesn't feel right.  My husband left to run some errands, and I didn't make it to the window to wave goodbye.  After all of these years of never missing a wave, I chose the comfort of staying upstairs in the warmth of our bedroom rather than the polar temperatures of downstairs.  Even if I didn't think I'd make it down the narrow stairway, through the dining room, and into the living room for the usual waving spot, in time to wave at my hubby, there's no excuse.  I should have tried.  Our wave to each other means so much more than goodbye; it means that even if I'll see him again in twenty minutes, I'll still miss him during that short period of time.  It means, "Have fun", or "Have a good day at work", and always, "I love you".  Knowing what I know now, and that is, how crummy I feel without even making an effort to wave goodbye, I will start all over again for a new record of daily waves.  It won't matter if I'm in the basement or the attic, the rewards of this minor interruption far outweigh the feeling of going waveless. 

For obvious reasons, I chose this one called, "You Stole My Heart".

Food Processor to the Rescue

Several times I've sat down today to write my post, but to no avail.  Among the many things cluttering my mind, the urge to use my new food processor was at the top of the list.  With a recipe for cream of potato soup in my pocket and ingredients unloaded from the grocery bags, there was an excitement, I'm not familiar with, keeping me from concentrating on anything else. 

No one who knows me would utter the words, "good cook" when describing my positive attributes.  There's just no way to convey how lacking I am in the kitchen; then came the food processor.  Not owning anything fancy like that, I borrowed one from a friend.  I had to!  If you've ever tried to chop cranberries, you understand the urgency.  So, after all of my adult years of contributing to potlucks and bringing my pot home full, imagine my surprise when the cranberry foods I had prepared were a huge success!  Yup!  Nothing but empty bowls and trays!  That was last week, and I'm still a little giddy! 

My food processor potato soup is, now, simmering on the stove.  With that done, cooking up this post was a cake walk.  

This one is called, "Egg Drop".  I didn't put eggs in my soup; I just thought the white beach glass looked like potatoes.  Enjoy your dinner.

Germ Fighter

Psssssssssst, whif, whif, blow.  Pssssssssssst, whif, whif, blow.  That's my not-so-secret combination for staying healthy.  Not only does it get me through allergy seasons and germy airports; it also sustains my wellness in spite of the dust and dryness of forced-air furnaces.  With every use of this wonderful invention, I'm saying "Goodbye" to the sinus infections and sore throats that, for years, would keep me down and away from being my usual productive self.  Now, each and every morning, next to my toothpaste and floss, this three-ounce bottle of non-medicated ingredients stands waiting for me to spray, inhale, and release it.  No wonder it's appeared on "Dr. Oz" and "The Doctors", where they say to use it every morning, night, and anytime you've been around germs, dust, or pollen, because this stuff really works!  Yes!  You've guessed it; saline nasal moisturizing spray has had incredible results on myself and many others.  (Just be sure to spray towards the outside of your nostril, rather than straight up your nasal passages.)

Here's to good health!  

This one is called, "The Office", because you can see the word, "office" on one of the pieces.  Thinking you may want to take some nose spray to the office with you, this is a good pick for today:)

Too Late

If you are a school teacher, you know how true it is that teachers have a special bond with one another.  In fact, most people who have retired from teaching continue meeting with their colleagues on a regular basis for the rest of their lives.  My school friends meet for lunch or dinner at least once a month.  Lately, they've added a breakfast, too.  The problem is, I haven't attended any of them since my husband and I moved away to a different town.  The drive would only be about an hour and a half long, but there is always a conflict with my schedule.  As time goes by, I feel less inclined to make the effort of putting one more thing on my calendar, but today the remorse of my lack of action is weighing heavily upon my heart.  Today, I was told of the passing away of one of our friends from my earlier years of teaching.  Until her illness, she hardly ever missed a gathering.  She had a warm, welcoming smile, no matter how she felt.  Now, she's gone, and even if I promise to attend the next luncheon, she won't be there.  I'm too late.  I've got to change.  One by one, our group will continue to grow smaller, and I don't want to be late again.

One of my favorite memories of my friend is when she came back from a trip, she brought shells for all of us at school.  This picture is called, "One Lonely Shell".

No Stress

This is my 74th post.  That sounds like a lot to me, but these past few months have flown by.  While I may have difficulty finding time in my day to write, I do truly enjoy the actual process.  My husband was asking me if it is hard to come up with ideas; he knows how I can stress out over deadlines.  Thankfully, my daily commitment to this blog has not given me one ounce of worry.  I know that when I sit down at my computer and pray for God's guidance, that He will answer.  Then I just sit back and listen to what is on my heart, and what is playing the clearest in my head.  I may start off with a certain topic, though, and find myself on a tangent that shapes up into a whole new storyline.  I love it when that happens!  Either way, as I write, I feel as though I am spending time with God, personal time.  Group time with God, by serving Him with others to attain a certain goal is nice; it's necessary and rewarding, but quiet, uninterrupted time with God is priceless.  It's like prayer, but with more listening than asking. 

Maybe you have a similar methodology.  Whether you do or don't, I'm not trying to force-feed my beliefs; this was just an honest answer to a question. 

Peace.

This is a great one for today!  It's called, "Love Conquers All".

Matters of Heart and Hair

While braiding my hair today, I couldn't help but notice how much less hair there was than usual.  It's not because of anything I'm doing to it.  My braid is a loose French style, and I don't do that every day.  I try to brush carefully but still end up with a ton of hair either falling out or breaking off, I'm not sure which. You would think that my molting season would be just before summer, not winter!  Thankfully, this has happened before, so I'm able to stay calm about it.  It seems that during stressful times, my scalp doesn't care if I have hair or not.  If you've read this month's posts, you know that I have a loved one who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease; few things are as stressful as this.  I thought I was doing a good job of doing what I can, and letting God do what I can't, but apparently, my hair doesn't agree.  In the grand scheme of things, it's not my hair that matters.  Miracles happen every day, so I'll keep praying for my loved one.   No more worrying, I'll keep my faith and my joy, and hopefully, my hair.

Dog Poop

Is there anything good to say about dog poop?  Unlike most things that are useful, along with some things we dislike but still serve a purpose, dog poop makes me cringe on many levels.  It is not useful.  Outside of the obvious grossness of our yard being turned into a toilet, the number one reason I get upset at finding "number two" left on a sidewalk is the lack of consideration.  Does the dog's owner ever consider how people passing by, or worse yet, through the mushy, stinky pile might be affected?  Do they even care that when a dog's stools get stepped on, it is really difficult to remove the remnants from the bottoms of most shoes?  And who wants to sit there and smell the poop as you carefully try to pluck it out of the treads with a toothpick?  A powerwash might work, provided that your shoe is waterproof, but what if it isn't?  I'm sorry to go on and on about such a thing.  Maybe you've managed to live your life with dog poop radar, but I have not.  I've scraped more than my fair share of other people's dog deposits off my shoes.  I would like to see people do what my husband and I do with our dog.  It's really quite simple.  Before taking her for a walk, we make sure she's done her business at home, in her own space, where we will clean it up.  Then, we go on our merry way, and instead of the walk serving as a bathroom break, we can all enjoy it for exercise and togetherness. 

That's my scoop on poop.

This one is called, "Swoop".  I'll bet you can guess why I chose it for today.

Beach House for Sale

What makes a house worth $2,450,000?  Maybe you own one.  I do not.  I can, however, answer my own question, because I sat in such a house this afternoon.  Okay, my station wasn't in the actual house; I was sequestered to the garage as I took tickets for #31 in the Parade of Homes Tour, but twice, I took a break to go inside and dream.  It wasn't the six bedrooms and four and one-half baths that made me drool, or even the 4,119 square feet of perfect colors, light, and space.  My breath was taken away by the ability to see Lake Michigan from most parts of the house, as there were windows everywhere. It was obvious that the interior decorator had a true gift for using items made of driftwood and stone, which meshed perfectly with the views.  Instead of the typical beach house colors of blue and white, the rooms were earthy and warm, causing a contrast to the blue of the water to really stand out.  The furniture gave a sense of nature.  I imagined the house at night or during a snowstorm and thought that even if it was too dark to see the water, and too air-tight to hear the waves, I would still know the house was on a beach.  So there's the answer, three words, "on a beach".

This one called, "Hearts at Sunset" goes so well with the beach house I saw today.
Have a blessed week-end.

Let's Go Golfing

It's been 20 years since I've golfed, so when my husband asked me if I would like to go give it a try, I was thrilled!  We have never, ever golfed together; he's not a golfer.  Even when I found a bag of clubs for $25 and then another set for five, I didn't really think we'd actually make it out to a course.  So when my hubby suggested that we go after my morning meeting, that was all I could think about.  A 70-degree October day with sun and fall leaves made a perfect plan even better, and when we arrived at the golf course, I was ready!  Did I mention that my golfing skills aren't exactly up to par?  So we changed the rules, which we weren't sure of anyway, and made up our own scoring system.  After all, we're here to have fun, right?   We laughed at our embarrassing shots and celebrated our rare good ones.  Aside from the golfer closing in on us from two holes back, we were under no pressure.  The game took my mind off of the day-to-day stresses we've had this week.  As we approached the last hole, I realized how blessed we are to have the ability to walk all nine of them, and to have the strength to carry our bags.  The aches that came after we finished, were well worth it.  "No pain, no gain" they say, and I had gained a lovely afternoon with my husband.  I hope we'll go again someday.

This photo called, "Fossils in Water", was photo-shopped with a dry-brush filter.  I chose it for today because, you guessed it, we did end up with a few golf balls in the water.  That's okay; we found a couple, too.

Is It Really Alzheimer's?

Do you have a story to tell about a loved one with Alzheimer's disease?  So do I, and if you are facing what I am, you have many stories.  None of them, if taken seriously, are funny, but I hope you will try to laugh now and then.  I also hope that you have had a thorough investigation into the meds that your loved one is using.  Many seniors are seeing such an array of physicians, that they are finding themselves over-medicated and addicted to drugs.  Add to that the dangerous combinations caused by a lack of clarity and communication, and your loved one may be displaying symptoms that mimic those of one with Alzheimer's.  This is not a commercial, but I was told at a caregivers' support meeting that Mayo Clinic is a good place to go to get the medications straightened out.  That's what my loved one needs; are too many pills or the incorrect usage of pills causing the symptoms?  All I know for sure is that I don't want to wake up one morning with my family member lost out in the cold somewhere, so it's worth looking at every possibility.  In the meantime, I'm going to do my best to not dwell on the negative, and as always, pray.

 Can you believe that I actually have a picture of beach glass called, "Clear and Cloudy" for this post?  (I'm hoping to always have a clear mind.)

The Right Jeans

Is it possible to get jeans that fit, or is that just a media myth?  If you're on a budget like I am, and you don't have an infinite amount of money to spend where ever and on what ever you desire, can you really find a pair of jeans that fit?  The ads on TV, on-line, and in fliers and magazines make the answer to my question appear to be positive, but I don't think so.  I recently picked out a new pair of jeans while shopping for groceries (which tells you, again, of my small budget), and thought I had hit the jackpot.  The tag on the front showed a younger woman in the same style, with a belt, a nice blouse, and some boots.  Well, in the fitting room at the store, I didn't have what was needed to complete that image, so I bought the jeans on faith, that with the right combo, they'll look good at home.  Okay, I'm home.  What's wrong with this picture?  Even with one of my better blouses, a good belt, and my favorite boots, I still look like I'm wearing the dreaded MOM JEANS.  Ugh!  All I wanted was some jeans that won't show my underwear every time I sit down (or worse).  I also get tired of constantly yanking on the waist to pull up my jeans that, for some reason, want to creep the other way.  Why is that?  I know they're the right size; I don't get it.  I don't have an ending for this post.  Any suggestions?

This one is called, "Pair of Hearts", chosen because I've often wondered why pants, of any kind, are referred to as "pairs".

Stormy Weather

There is a huge storm coming our way.  The layers of mugginess that I had ridden my bike through, earlier this morning, have been lifted by a cool breeze.  That's not a good sign.  The sky has become dark; inside, our big old house feels even darker.  I hope the lights I've turned on will get to stay on.  So soon after our move, I'm not sure where the candles and flashlights are.  The radar on channel eight is showing a countdown of about 30 minutes until we will feel the storm's full force, and the basement is not my favorite place to go.  The thunder and lightening that sounded so far away, is now too close for me to feel safe on my laptop, so this post is done.

"Stormy Weather'" is the name of this beach glass photo and goes well with my post.  
P.S.---Whew!  The storm ended up being just a hard rain; our source of electricity is still intact.  Actually, this all occurred on Saturday, my day off of blogging, because I knew I would not have time to write today (Monday).  I hope you had a safe week-end.

Stage Fright

The pressure is on.  I've joined a writing group.  This isn't a faceless, anonymous list of people represented by profile pictures the size of a thumbnail.  These are writers who actually get up from their desks, get in their cars, and drive to the Scott Club in South Haven, Michigan to share their talents with other authors.  Some have been published, others are just beginning their craft.  Everyone has their own style, interests, and subject matter.  To me, they are the definition of bravery, because even though they may have been a little fearful of sharing their work, they did it anyway.  I did not.  I was not brave.  Memories of my mom saying, "Shame on you!" are blocking any creative juices I may have thought I had before the meeting, so today's post will be short.  In the meantime, dear blogging world audience, if you could help me choose which posts to read aloud at future meetings, I would be ever so grateful.  

Quite appropriately, this is called,"Shy One."

Debit Card Day

It's "debit card day".  Ugh.  The time to gather up my receipts and balance my checkbook is upon me.  This is usually preceded by all kinds of avoidance behaviors, and today is no different.  As I think about the task at hand, I wonder why I'm so opposed to doing it.  I enjoy number games; why don't I like accounting?  Does anyone out there look forward to this chore?  I'd be interested in hearing how you make your own "debit card day" more tolerable.  Sometimes, I take my necessary supplies (i.e., receipts, checkbook, pen, reading glasses, bills, calculator, snack) and sit in my car on the bluff of Lake Michigan.  Another option is to sit on the carpet in our bedroom with everything spread out like a picnic to take the drudgery away from the normal desk-and-chair-scene.   

It just occurred to me, if there are any techies reading this, I must sound pathetically out of touch with the times.  You would be right.  I don't even own a smart phone.  So while I'm trying to figure out how to make an hour-long job more enjoyable, you're probably thinking I could make it a whole lot more efficient.  I'm not sure this old brain could handle all that learnin', so I'll just end my quest here, and get busy.

How fitting it is to share the first beach glass photo that I ever sold, on "debit card day".

Apple Cider Swim

If you've been following my blog, welcome back to another oddly titled post.  This time, though, I had some help.  My grandson had witnessed the drowning of a bee today, and as he spoke about it, I wrote down what he said, thinking it would make a good story.  Hmmm.......do I have any idea where I put that little piece of paper?  No, of course not, because it happened just a few hours ago instead of a few years ago.  Is that how it is for you, too?  The short term memory is a thing of the past; long term is as good as ever!  Anyway, I'm sure the second word was "swim", but not sure if the first word was "apple" or "cider".  I'll just use all three words.  Either way, I'll bet you get the picture.  This is that lovely time of year when everyone enjoys a glass of cider with their doughnuts.  It's especially nice to have such a treat outside with the changing fall colors.  I was quite proud of my grandson when he remained calm as the uninvited guest, of the stinger kind, began to fly around the cup of his cider.  We all watched as the bee rested on the rim, tipped over, and fell into the drink.  The fall didn't look intentional, like a dive or anything.  Puzzled and sympathetic, we watched the bee struggle a bit, then stop.  Not sure if the little creature was just tired or the "d" word, I dumped the tainted cider onto the lawn.  I'd like to say that we all watched the emptied contents for any signs of recovery, but we didn't.  I was too busy looking for a pencil and paper to write down my grandson's title idea.  The "apple cider swim" was his innocent recollection of events.  He didn't dwell on, and maybe, didn't realize the bee's fatal ending, and that, to me, is worth writing about.

This photo is called, "Sinking Heart" and goes well with today's bee ordeal.

Up on the Roof

Oh, that husband of mine!  You should have seen him!  Not a carpenter by trade, his six-foot-seven-frame all crouched under a short overhang, he spent his day removing old siding and replacing it with new.  I'd say, for not really knowing what he was doing, he did an excellent job!  For him, it was all work as he repaired that area above our porch, but he didn't mind the hours he had put into it.  He felt as though he was healing this old home, and it was worth the aches and pains in his bones.  For me, it was all fun as I climbed out on the roof with him for a beer, some chips, and a whole new view of the neighborhood.  It was cozy up there in the trees, almost like a secret tree house.  If you have a roof with a section that's not too steep, give it try.  I'm hoping we'll go out there again.

This one is called, "Stuck".  If you go up on your roof, don't get stuck up there!