On . .. School House Rocks!

I think that the School House Rock series that originally showed in between cartoons on Saturday mornings on ABC in the 1970s  is arguably one of the most inventive and successful teaching tools ever!
I was a tween during that time, and I still remember the words to many of those songs.
And I can't count the times one of them helped me on a test. The Preamble to the Constitution, which I can sing to this day, helped me ace several government tests throughout high school. And I believe it won me a beer once in a bar in college.
Here's the link for The Preamble song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHp7sMqPL0g
These songs were all sung by famous rock/folk/country stars of the era.
Mother Necessity is all about important inventors, such as Alexander Graham Bell and Eli Whitney. Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEGQUgWBQL4
Maybe the best remembered is The Shot Heard Round the World, teaching about the Revolutionary War in a very catchy fashion. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZMmPWTwTHc.
Over the years, they came out with America Rock, Grammar Rock, Multiplication Rock and Science Rock. These series are all excellent, and I recommend them to parents who want to give their kids a catchy way to remember important facts, dates, people and events.
If you've never seen these, go check them out. Look them up on YouTube. There's Conjunction Junction; Inter-planet Janet, etc.
Ever wonder  how the national debt got its start? Check out Tyrannosaurus Debt! "Feeding time is ALL the time!"  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0efqnvYz4YI. Did you know the Civil War debt hadn't been paid off by WWI? Oy, Vey!
So go watch some of these gems with your kids. It's learning with fun. And boy, some of these messages are even more apropos today than when they were first written.

On writing that novel you've been considering!

Did you ever want to write a book? Most people have considered it at least once or twice. We're all full of ideas and experiences we're sure would benefit the world.
But how on Earth to get started?
Here's an easy kick-in-the-pants method.
Every November, there's a website that sponsors a novel-writing binge called NaNoWriMo. It stands for National Novel Writing Month.

You go to the free site at www.nanowrimo.org, make an account, and on November first, you just start writing that novel you've been thinking about. You have 31 days to write 50,000 words.
There's lots of support on the site, and you can keep track of your word count there.
Does 50,000 words seem like a lot? It's fewer than 2000 words a day. You can do it.
The old saw has it that, "A writer writes."
This is true. If you fancy yourself a writer, then it may be time for you to put up, or shut up.
The advice is to just plunge in. Don't stop to edit your work. Keep going. At the end of the month, if you've plowed on through, you'll have a novel.
YOU will be a novelist.
An unpublished one, sure, but that's a mighty cool group of people. All the best authors started out that way.
There is still a week left before November 1. Use the week to outline your novel. Come up with your characters, and your plot. Perhaps decide what will be the basic framework of your book. Then, on November 1, dive in.
If you have a beginning and an end in mind, and a basic understanding of what you want to happen in the middle, you'll be less likely to find yourself on a crazy tangent off in Argentina somewhere with your characters and unsure of how to bring them back home.
And be sure ... sure...SURE to back up your work. I lost my novel last year about 30,000 words in when my computer crashed, and I hadn't backed it up on a disk or thumb drive.
That. Hurt.
But, it wasn't really a very good book, anyway. :)
So. I'm going to do it this year. Two of my kids are going to do it this year.
Will you give it a try? I'd love to hear from you!
NOTE: I regret that I can not read or edit your book once it is done. I'm not really qualified to do so. I'm a newspaper editor, not a book editor. And I've never sold a book of my own, so why the heck would you want me to edit yours? But people ask all the time. So I thought I'd mention here that I simply don't have time. Sorry!
If enough people in the Cambridge area decide to take on this challenge, we can form a NaNoWriMo support group. Think coffee, think wine. Happy writing!

On being a crafty, crafty girlie!

I've always loved crafts. That's why I loved Girl Scouts, more as a leader, really, than as a girl. That's because as a leader I could control the activities, and you can be sure they always included a craft. We had some dandies, too! The time we twisted dryer hoses into circles, stapled them together, painted them orange and stuck a wad of green paper into the hole to create fall pumpkin decorations stands out in my mind with shining splendor.

Then I discovered SWAPS. Oh, those wonderful, miniature crafts peculiar to Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. The ideas are so clever...the possibilities endless! 

I have a hat full of them! You make them, trade them, collect them. Fun for everyone!

A couple examples include: Get tiny, glass tubes with stoppers. Get green play money. Shred it. Place in glass. Make tiny label that reads, "In case of emergency, break glass and apply tape."

Ha!

Or they could be tiny replicas of camping equipment -- very popular with scouts. A cotton puff on a Q-Tip is a s'more. A bottle cap covered with plastic mesh and a couple of brown buttons is a BBQ. 

Can you see the wonder? 

I've gone through many crafting periods, each one a frenzy of activity as I became immersed in learning a new craft, achieved some measure of competency, got bored and moved on.

On my walls are cross stitches from my "Needle Period." (Sorry, Cooper...I'll get to your baby sampler by the time you graduate from ... let's say college.)

I have a collection of painted ceramics I took delight in creating. My dad absolutely LOVES the ceramic Santa I gave him. Maybe.

 I enjoy creating cosplay costumes, and going to conventions with my kids. This is a wholesome family activity, and fun for all. AND it allows our creative sides to have a field day. I've done Professor Umbridge and Professor Sprout from Harry Potter. This year I may go for Maurine Robinson from Lost in Space. 

There is a quilt on my middle child's bed, pieced when I was carrying her 21 years ago, and quilted (by someone else) for her high school graduation.

There is a portfolio of watercolors I deem too horrible to frame in the garage.

There are several nice stained glass pieces in drawers, as the windows in my home aren't right for hanging them.

There are many, many knitted scarves gracing the hooks on the walls in the homes of friends and family.

There are scrapbooks here and there in the house, commemorating this or that or them.

In the basement are bags of cross stitch materials; a box of stained glass tools; a box of watercolors; scrap-booking stuff; the list goes on.

My late ex called me flighty.

I prefer to think of myself as eclectic.

My latest passion is for paint parties. Have you tried this yet? Oh, my, GOODNESS! You pay a fee, and sit down in front of a blank, white canvas. Lying on the table are clean brushes. And before you is a palette of lovely, lovely paint. 

The teacher -- in this neck of the woods Cindy Carnahan -- displays her sample, and explains and demonstrates in great detail exactly how to recreate the wondrous masterpiece you'll be taking home that night. 

I've done goofy dogs, a koi, a black cat, the Eiffel Tower, a rooster, several landscapes, snowmen, a lighthouse, bird houses, coffee cups, and most recently, a lovely, Halloween witch. 

Are they original? To me, yeah! 

Are they brilliant? To me, yeah!

Do you want one? I can hook you up. I foisted the lighthouse off on my bro by gifting it to his foster son. It has glitter on it. Hey! It was a gift of love!

I'm foisted another off on a friend by writing her family name on it . . . a Christmas ornament picture. Heh heh.

She can't get rid of it til I'm dead.

I gave one to my sister by writing her children's names on each of three bird houses. It's not half bad, really.

And I'm planning on foisting another off as a housewarming gift this very weekend. 

Hey, if I'm ever famous (probably not for painting) these will be worth a fortune.

I'll get tired of this eventually, and move on. Possibly when I run out of wall space.

Meanwhile . . . I love it!

 So I encourage you to go out and find something crafty to do. You'll grow your brain, and fill your home and those of your friends and family with wonderful, handmade delights. 

I may try origami next.

On What to do if Your House is INVADED . . . by fleas.

My home recently had an itchy problem... fleas! This has happened once before, many years ago. Back then I lived in a small apartment with two cats. They were indoor/outdoor cats. Inevitably in the summer, in spite of flea collars, they got a bad case of fleas. And so did we!

I finally resorted to flea bombing the place. That was before products like Frontline became readily available. Nowadays all you have to do, it seems, is start early and keep up with those monthly drops between your pet's shoulder blades, or those great flea pills you can get for dogs or cats from your vet, and presto! No fleas.
But what if you were remiss in the spring? What if you didn't use the magic drops or pill, and suddenly you're hopping with tiny little vampires all over your pets, your furniture, your carpets and -- ulp -- yourself!

I confess that last summer this was me! I was cheap, or just plain lazy, and didn't buy the drops or pills in the spring. In late summer I noticed the dog scratching quite a bit, and I did use the drops then -- but it was too late. We were already infested. I just didn't realize how bad the situation was until one morning when I was sitting on my couch, I glanced at a white blanket draped over the back. Before my eyes, five fleas hopped across the blanket and disappeared into the pile of the sofa.

Argh!

I consulted with a veterinarian friend and a dog groomer friend, and they agreed. I must go to war -- I'm talking boots on the ground, here.

So I coordinated my efforts. I bought flea shampoo for the dog and flea spray for the cats. I got them all flea collars. I bought plug-in-flea traps which have a night light at the top, and a pad of fly paper below. The room is darkened at night, and the only light is the nightlight above the fly paper. The little buggers are attracted to the light, and when they try to hop up, bam! They get stuck on the fly paper. Heh heh. So long, blood-suckers!
I bought flea spray for the furniture and carpets. And finally, the big guns; three flea bombs.

One fine morning after the kids left for school, the dog got a flea bath. I then applied a flea collar to her and popped her out onto the screened porch, which had been sprayed the night before. I held the cats down and thoroughly sprayed their fur with specially designed flea spray for cats. This is dangerous! (Not for the cats! For the humans!) I got scratched. I then put flea collars on the cats and tossed them out with the dog. (Alternatively, you could deliver all your animals to the groomer for a flea bath on bombing day.)
Next I made sure all the windows were closed, the air conditioner was off, all food was put away, the fish tank filter was off and the tank covered, and Ike the Snake was out on the porch with the cats and dog. If I'd had a gas stove or furnace or water heater, I would have followed the directions and made sure the pilot lights were out. This presumably keeps the house from blowing up.
I laid newspaper down on three surfaces in the house, following the directions on the flea bomb cans, and I let em rip. Then I got the heck out of there for six hours. 

Later I went in, opened doors and windows, threw out the newspapers and cans, and washed my hands. I stayed outside on the porch for an hour.

Then I vacuumed the entire house, and threw the bag away outside.

I plugged in my little fly paper traps, let the animals back in, and waited two weeks. Then I did it again. All of it. You've got to deal with hatching eggs, alas.
We were flea-free after that, but what a production! I don't care to repeat it.

This past spring I was prepared with those magic pills, and it's a good thing as I've heard fleas are particularly bad this year. The expense has been worth it, because once you've got the little bloodsuckers in your life, you've got to coordinate your efforts on all fronts, or you'll just get 'em back right away. Believe me. I know! 

Some people recommend spraying the yard to lower the number of fleas which can jump on board their pets in the first place, (and on them, too! They'll ride in on human legs, folks), but I don't like to do this, as it also kills bugs I want. And I'm not convinced it's good for other fauna.

Other people recommend planting certain herbs in the yard to repel fleas. Some of these include: Lavender; Pennyroyal (but NOT if you have cats! It's toxic to them.); Catnip; Mint (invasive...use a root containment system or it'll be everywhere); Wormwood (keep away from food crops. Wormwood produces a botanical toxin.)

And before using anything on or around your animals or kids, check with your vet and your doctor.

Good luck, and don't worry about fighting fair. In the war against fleas, anything goes!

On: This News Makes me Want to SING!

I heard it on the radio today; the perfect excuse to not exercise! It seems that recent studies have proven that regular singing provides many of the same health benefits as doing yoga!

This is good news for me because I sing regularly, and because although I’d like to cultivate the image of being the kind of person who does yoga, (not to mention cultivating the physique of such a person!) the truth is I hate, hate, hate to exercise.

So what’s the scoop? It seems that singing involves deep, controlled breathing, with a full breath being taken in and then slowly let out with the musical phrase. In yoga practitioners draw in deep breaths and then let them out in a controlled manner, filling themselves with a sense of harmony. 

It’s also been shown that members of a choir, while singing, experience a synchronizing of their heart beats, and a deep relaxation and feeling of well being. Yoga is said to provide similar benefits. I wouldn’t know, though. The few times I’ve tried yoga, all I experienced was a profound sense of pain and excessive sweating, accompanied by feelings of inadequacy as I witnessed the others in the class bending their toned bodies into unnatural positions. After class I had a strange craving for pretzels.

That rarely happens when I’m singing.

The study went on to claim that the effort of moving into harmony with other singers creates a focus which enhances the health benefits of singing. I know this is true, as I’ve felt that deep connection with people with whom I’ve been singing.

All I’ve felt from people with whom I’ve done yoga is disdain or maybe pity as they observe my pathetic attempts to swoop gracefully from a crane-standing-on-waters-edge into a down dog position. And occasionally fear, as I topple sideways into someone else, threatening both their health and their sense of relaxation and harmony.

“Heh heh,” I’d mutter, picking myself up and offering a hand to my unfortunate neighbor. “That was supposed to be a down dog? I thought she said drowned dog! My bad!”

Singing mistakes rarely threaten people’s safety, although I’ve been told that people with perfect pitch can suffer profound pain when exposed to singers who are out of tune. I don’t have this problem, and frankly think that unless you’re a concert mistress or a piano tuner, perfect pitch would just be a nuisance.

It’s true that singing won’t make you thinner or stronger like yoga can if practiced regularly. But it’s not going to pull your muscles, and doesn’t require special clothing designed to embarrass you.

So I’m grabbing this chance to toss my yoga matt and tapes. The government said I could!

 

On the Tradition of the Jack O'Lantern!

Jack O'Lantern, Jack O'Lantern, you are such a funny sight, as you sit there in the window, looking out at the night! Once you were a yellow pumpkin growing on a green vine,  now you are a Jack O'Lantern, see your candle light shine!

I wish I could sing this for you, so you could hear the tune. I love it!

Then there's this one: Five yellow pumpkins sitting on a gate; the first one said, "My, it's getting late!" The second one said, "There are witches in the air!" The third one said, "Well I don't care!" The fourth one said, "Let's run and run and run;" the fifth one said, "I'm ready for some fun" ...wooooo went the wind and out went the light! And the five yellow pumpkins rolled out of sight!

Halloween runs neck and neck with Christmas as my favorite holiday. This is aside from any religious significance to holidays such as Christmas and Easter. I'm talking pure, secular fun. When it comes to religious importance, yeah, Christmas and Easter are the biggies.

But for fun, fun, fun, it's Halloween and Christmas. Probably in that order.

Do you carve a Jack O'Lantern? My dad was the Jack O'Lantern King, and he passed his skill and knowledge on to his children. I, in turn, have passed it on to mine. And now Molly has taken over the reins of Chlovechok Jack O'Lantern Craft Queen. Here's her latest effort: (She went traditional this year.)

So have you heard the story of the origins of the Jack O'Lantern? It's a story that goes back hundreds of years to Ireland, to a stingy, mean, cruel man named Stingy Jack.
The story goes that Stingy Jack was so mean and nasty, he loved to play cruel tricks on just about everyone, even his own mother. Even on the Devil himself!
One day, Stingy Jack was walking down the road when he chanced to meet the Devil, who was out for a stroll. The Devil said, "Well, Stingy Jack, you're such a miserable example of a human, you're sure to be bound for Hell when you die . . . so I'll be looking forward to collecting your soul.
Now, Stingy Jack may have been mean and miserable, but he wasn't stupid. Thinking fast, he said, "Well, Devil, that's fine, but would you mind going up there and picking me a fine, red apple from that tree?"
The Devil said yes, and he climbed up the tree, limber as a mink.
Stingy Jack leaped to the tree and quickly put a circle of crosses around it. The Devil could not touch a cross or jump over one, so he was trapped in the tree.
"Let me down from here, Stingy Jack!" he cried.
"Not unless you promise never to take my soul to Hell!" Jack replied smugly.
Well, Old Nick was stumped, and finally agreed, reluctantly, to never take Stingy Jack's soul into Hell. And Jack removed the crosses and let the Devil down from the apple tree.
Eventually, Stingy Jack died, and happily made his way up to the Pearly Gates, where he was greeted by Saint Peter. Checking his list, Saint Peter frowned at Jack and said, "Jack, you're a stingy, miserable human being who's never done a kind thing for another person. You've lived a worthless life, and you can't come in here."
So Jack went on down to Hell, and banged on the gates. The Devil came to see who was knocking, and when he saw Jack, scowled. "What do you want, Stingy Jack?" he asked.
"They won't let me into Heaven, so I came here," Jack said.
The Devil threw back his head and laughed. "But Jack!" he said, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye. "I promised never to take your miserable soul into Hell. You can't come in."
Jack stared at the Devil. "But, where will I go?" he asked.
"Back to where you came from," the Devil said with a shrug.
"But it's dark in the Netherworld between here and there! How will I find my way!"
So, taking pity on him, the Devil tossed him a glowing ember straight from the fires of Hell. Stingy Jack took a turnip -- his favorite food, so he always carried a couple in his pickets -- hollowed it out and placed the ember inside. He cut a couple of holes so the light would shine out . . . and when he was done it looked like a face.
Using its light he found his way back to the place from which he'd come -- Ireland.
And that was the first Jack O'Lantern.
There were no pumpkins in Ireland, so the Irish took to carving turnips, gourds, even potatoes and placing candles inside, carving scary faces in them to keep the evil spirits away.
When Irish immigrants reached America they quickly discovered that pumpkins were bigger and easier to hollow out, and switched to using them to make their Jack O'Lanterns.
And THAT's where the Jack O'Lantern came from.

On the Importance of Souvenirs

How full is your house of crappola? I'm talking stuff you thought you Could. Not. Live. Without. when you bought it, inherited it, talked your sister into giving it to you, or scavenged it from your neighbor's trash bin.
Mine is pretty full. No space left on the shelves. No room at the inn.
So when I go on vacation, I tend to leave the ricky-ticky souvenirs behind, because in addition to trying to conserve money, I simply have nowhere for them.
But I am a sentimental fool, so I have to have something of a place I've visited to take home to cherish, so I can revisit that place whenever I like.
Somewhere along the line, I realized that doesn't have to mean something I've purchased in a shop. Although, sometimes I am tempted by things I see in shops.
I love original art, but that is not cheap, generally. It's a fun challenge to see if I can find a little shop featuring local art work by unknown artists or craftsmen, where I might get lucky and find something unique and cheap. This is especially doable if you take a cruise to the islands, where there is often wonderful artwork for sale at very low prices.
That tempts me, I'll admit.
But since there isn't much more room on  my walls than there is on my shelves, I can't hang up much more art.
AND there's still the matter of wanting to conserve my hard earned money.
So now when I go on vacation, I pretty much stay out of stores, to avoid temptation.
That doesn't mean I don't take home some pretty sweet souvenirs. I just don't pay for them.
Don't worry, the cops aren't going to be after me. I don't pay for them because my favorite kind of souvenir is now a collection of photos I take of my vacation: The place, the people, the scenery, the buildings, the wildlife, the activities, and fun little bits and bobs that catch my eye. Then I print out a few and frame them...which is why my walls are so darned full! Or I make a Facebook album to share.
These photos give me a lot of pleasure, both in creating them and in admiring them later. I'm no pro...some shots are better than others, and some I trash on the spot.
The other thing I love to do is to search beaches for interesting shells, driftwood and beach glass. This entertains me endlessly. (I'm a cheap date.)
I have quite the collection, and was thrilled recently when my daughter Molly brought me a cupful she'd gathered on the shores of the Arctic Ocean in Norway! It includes two broken bits of flowery teacups. Fun fun fun!
So when you go on vacation, don't drag the Eiffel
Tower home with you, except in pixels. Leave the Sears Tower in Chicago, and the Empire State Building in the Empire State.
Take photos. They'll last a lifetime, and can exist only on your computer if you wish.
And look for beach glass. That's for me, honey. Bring it on by, and I'll make you a cup of coffee (or pour you a glass of wine) and listen while you tell me all about your vacation.




Here I am hiking a nature trail on Emerald Isle, N.C. on a recent trip. I left the mosquitoes there, and kept the photo!

On Sunday Afternoon Movie Picks

It's Sunday afternoon. I was supposed to be most of the way to North Carolina to help my oldest move back to Ohio, but alas . . . yesterday I was struck down in my prime by the dreaded intestinal flu.
(This is not actually the flu, my late ex informed me. The flu is influenza...a respiratory ailment, which can kill ya, so get yer flu shot.)
Anyway, we call the thing I spent yesterday suffering the stomach flu. And let me tell you, it's no darned fun. You've been there. You know.
So tangents aside, here I am spending the day in my pj's instead of driving south. So I'm thinking I'll watch a movie.
But which movie to watch?
This is an important decision because it's two hours of my life. (Four if I go for a double feature! Which is likely.)
If the kids were watching with me, I'd have to bow to their taste, and we'd consider something like Harry Potter, Indiana Jones, Star Wars, Arnold Schwarzenegger, or another action adventure. Sometimes I'll watch an animated movie with the kids, either something Japanese or a good old Disney movie. Or we might indulge in a musical. These are all enjoyable, but not what I'm in the mood for today.
My favorite genre is, hands down, romantic comedy. I love a love story, and when I find one I really enjoy, I buy it so I can watch it over and over. Also because I have a terrible record of returning rentals, and find it cheaper to buy and avoid the steep fines.
Ask my kids how many times they've sat through any of Diane Keaton's many romantic comedies, and you'll see I speak the truth.
My love affair with love affairs began back in my 20's with Diane's movie Baby Boom. In those days I longed for babies of my own, and that movie hit my needs of the time on every level. I was married to a guy who spent all his time, by necessity, at work (resident physicians have no life) ... so I was spending a lot of time alone. And we certainly didn't have the time or resources for kids yet.  There wasn't much romance, alas, and there wasn't much comedy. So I watched Baby Boom dozens of times. It made me happy.
As the years went by, I had babies of my own, and my entertainment needs evolved to simply enjoying a good romantic comedy.
My hubby liked them well enough, especially if I'd agree to watch Arnold or another action hero in between. So we did fine in that area.
Now that I'm single, I still love watching those delightful departures into someone else's zany romantic life.
I love Jane Austin, which is more wry than outright comedic, and own three different sets of her novels in movie form; all wonderful. I have also collected an enviable selection of romantic comedies featuring everyone from Diane Lane to Sandra Bullock to Katherine Heigl to Helen Mirren to Meryl Streep to Anne Hathaway to Heather Graham to Drew Barrymore to Sandra Oh to Nia Vardalos to Cameron Diaz to Kate Winslet to Meg Ryan to Bette Midler to Goldie Hawn to Julia Roberts . . . and those are just the actresses I like. I could go on and on about the actors I lust for, but I think I've made my point.
Today, I think I'll watch Heather Graham in Cake, followed by Diane Lane in Under the Tuscan Sun . . . and Sandra Oh is in both movies, and pregnant in both.
Why is this stuff so much fun? I don't know. Maybe I'm pathetic, but I must not be alone. This is a billion dollar industry, after all.
So if you're sick and need something to fill your hours, or if you're feeling lonely, nostalgic, bored, tired, or just in the mood to wile away a Sunday afternoon with some reliable old friends from the big screen, grab your favorite and plug it in.
Don't forget the popcorn! (See one of my September blog posts for a great recipe!)

On the varying definitions of "attractive"

Last Sunday in church I watched my good friend cuddling her little granddaughter and thought, “How rich she is!”

The child, around two, alternated between admiring my friend’s earrings and rubbing her cheek against my friend’s cheek.

My friend is a handsome woman of a certain age. She is not young, thin, rich or famous. Some people might look at her and miss her beauty. It was obvious that her granddaughter is not among these.

I recall my own grandmother’s soft, soft cheeks. I used to love to kiss her cheek, patterned with her life’s experience, and inhale her signature Miss Dior perfume. I thought she was absolutely beautiful, though at 88 she would have laughed at the idea. 

Why is it that as a society we’ve become so enamored of  a youthful image of beauty that we can’t find it elsewhere?

It’s been beaten to death in the same media that perpetuates the problem – what’s in, what sells, is youth and beauty. The result is a society of people who don’t feel “pretty” if they don’t conform with this image, popular since the 1960s when then 16-year-old British model Twiggy slid over from England and through the narrow cracks of our fashion industry with her slender, teen-aged body and became the new “face” (and body) of America, representing the new freedom of the 1960s. Before that, “normal” sized people had been, well, the norm.

 

Hey, it’s not Twiggy’s fault. If the market wasn’t prime for such an image, it wouldn’t have worked. And it’s been at work ever since, with greater and greater consequences.

I’m not putting down “thin” people. I know it’s as difficult to be too thin as to be too fat. (Not from personal experience, alas.) And I don’t want to become one of those jerks who puts down those more slender than I.

But there’s a happy medium. You know what it is. Go online to one of the many sites that give average healthy weights for various ages, heights and sexes. I, for example, at my height, age and sex, should weigh somewhere between “It’s none-of-your-business” and “Not-gonna-tell-in-this-lifetime, buddy,” pounds. I’m a skitch over. But working on it! If you want to lose a few, follow my sage advice below.

My advice? Don’t supersize your food, folks. My grandmother (with the soft cheeks!) always said, “A bargain’s only a bargain if you would have bought it in the first place.”

Well, unless you’re going to divvie up that supersized meal to feed four people, it’s not something you would have bought in the first place at regular rates. Come on! You don’t even feel good after you eat that much! Your stomach aches, admit it. But once it’s in your hands, you’ll be darned if you aren’t going to, “Make it fit!”

Seriously. Gross.

Here’s more unsolicited, no doubt unwelcome advice. Walk somewhere if you’re lucky enough to have feet that work; do something besides lying on the couch snarfing down Mt. Dew and Funions; and cut down the chances of an early death from sloth. I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on t.v. But EVERYBODY knows this stuff. Yet, we are still a very, very fat society in general.

Ok. Now let’s say for the sake of argument, that you’re happy with who you are. Maybe you’re Miss America! More likely, you’re Mr. or Ms. Middle American – average, and fine with that.

Yeah you!

Either way, the beauty that really matters is the beauty that can most easily be detected by a two-year-old child as she rubs her cheek against yours.

Am I saying I don’t want to be considered attractive?

Of course not! What I’m saying is that I hope I’m learning that there are many ways to be considered attractive, and that there’s a distinct possibility that this may change and evolve throughout the course of a normal lifespan.

I’m not trying to attract 20-year-old boys any more. Thank. God.

I’m not even putting a lot of effort into being attractive to men in my own age group.

What I want is to be attractive to myself. And to my friends. And to my family. And, eventually, to my grandchildren.

I’ll have to choose great earrings, and dab on some “purdy perfume.” And let my cheeks get soft and textured. After all, beauty isn’t really in the eye of the beholder. It’s in the heart. 

 

On Living With Life's Annoying Little Lessons

Annoying Little Lessons

Recently I’ve felt that I’m becoming too crabby; too quick to become annoyed by people or events beyond my control. I’ve found myself griping about these people or events to others, and afterwards, I always feel like a big jerk.

Did Lucy Van Pelt from Peanuts have this problem? Or was she happy being crabby?

A friend even smacked my arm awhile back and said, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all!”

And it hurt! My arm and my feelings. Mostly my arm. But I deserved her censure. I was annoying her.

Another friend often says, “You can think anything you like; just don’t say it out loud!”

I had already decided to try and practice this excellent advice before attending church one Sunday. What’s the good of complaining if you end up feeling worse after you do it, or if it just earns the disapproval of your friends?

Then, as so often happens, the sermon in church seemed to be aimed right between my eyes. Father talked about how people we find annoying can sometimes, “. . . ruin our Heaven on Earth,” simply by being there.

He suggested that when we run into someone who threatens to get on our nerves or put a damper on our day, or even to throw a serious wrench into our long term plans, instead of becoming annoyed with them we should look at the situation as an opportunity.

“When crosses come your way,” Father said, “say, ‘OK, God, here’s an opportunity for me to pursue Grace.’”

Maybe those people we find annoying are really in need of some understanding. Maybe with a little understanding, they’d become less annoying.

Or maybe they’re just idiots, but it won’t do us any good to let them rile us up.

(I refuse to entertain the possibility that I'm the annoying one, and they're all just putting up with me! Perish the thought!)

So that very afternoon I chided myself not to let a couple of perennial irritants get under my skin. I’m not going to tell you that I suddenly found that I liked these people, but frankly, those around me don’t want to listen to me complain all the time, so I have to realize that if I don’t stop griping about these people, I’ll be added to the “annoying persons” lists of people I actually like and respect! Horrible thought!

And at the day’s end, I felt a tiny bit better for having taken the high road. It didn’t even give me blisters.

Maybe this kind of personal growth is part of God’s plan for me. I could do with fewer such lessons, from my point of view. But no doubt learning self-control will come in handy in the future.

Even if it is a little annoying right now.

Oh! Back to the drawing board! 

On Knowing Which Spiders to Fear in your Home . . . and Which to Leave Alone.

Spiders . . . do you think they're cool? Or creepy?
If  you think they're creepy and don't want them in your home, you're definitely in the majority.
But wait a second. Before you squash Charlotte over there in her web; you might do better to leave a few of these interesting critters in your home.

WHAT? You shriek. But they're POISONOUS!!!
Ahem. First, allow me to point out that something we eat that poisons us is poisonous. Something that bites or stings us, causing us harm, is venomous.
Okay, that point being across, sure, most spiders are slightly venomous. That's how they kill their prey, after all. But since we humans are really, really big creatures, the venom of most spiders does little more than cause a red, itchy bump on our skin.
Yeah, yeah, of course some people react more seriously, and they should clean all critters out of their homes. But MOST people don't react badly to a spider bite, and can afford to keep a few eight-eyed pets scooting around, snacking up other pests we really don't want in the house, such as roaches and other undesirables.
It may comfort you to know that most spiders are of the "they'll leave you alone if you leave them alone" variety.
There are only two spiders found in Ohio that can cause serious harm: The Black Widow and The Brown Recluse. Now these two bad girls you don't want biting you. So know how to identify them, so you aren't freaking out every time you see a brown or blackish spider.
The Black Widow has a very shiny, black abdomen. You only have to worry about adult females, as the males and young are not venomous. That female has a red, orange or sometimes yellow hourglass on her tummy. But you usually can't see the underside of a spider, can you? One species found in northern Ohio also has a row of tiny, red dots across the top of her abdomen. This is helpful. They build cobwebby, stretched out webs which can be about a foot across, and like abandoned, quiet places like barns, sheds, garages, woodpiles, etc. Wear gloves when working in such areas.
The Brown Recluse is shy, and hides in similar places to the Black Widow. Inside, though, it'll go to the darkest, quietest place it can find, such as in a corner, drawer or closet. Unfortunately, it will go inside stored clothing, and can bite the person who puts it on. (Always shake out clothing that's been stored.)
This spider is brown, and has a violin shaped marking on its head, leading it to sometimes be called the Fiddleback. It's generally a uniform brown color, and has hairless legs.
So what if one of 'em bites you? Are you a gonner? Probably not. The bite of a Black Widow is very painful, and it is highly venomous. But it rarely manages to inject very much, so very few people in the U.S. -- less than one percent! -- die from the bite. But you'll suffer,  baby. Pain, swelling, redness, abdominal discomfort, headache, sweating. Sometimes more serious side effects include high blood pressure, nausea, vomiting, chest pain and difficulty breathing. If you are bitten by one, or suspect you have been, go to the doctor. (Duh?)
If a Brown Recluse bites you, you may experience some of these same symptoms. And additionally, the site of the bite may become necrotic, or die off, and have to be excised, or cut out, by a doctor. Not fun.
So these two you don't want around.
Ever notice you'll wake up in the morning with spider bites, often in a little row, across your belly or something? Well they're not eating you in your sleep. They're not blood suckers like mosquitoes, fleas or bed bugs. (If you have marks all the time, check into some of these other pests.)
A spider will be out for a walk, minding its own business, crossing your body as you sleep, and you'll move. That's when it bites, in self-defense. I mean, the mountain is moving! It's scary! Look at it from their point!
Because of this, there are some spiders you might want to keep out of your house. These would include wolf spiders (big, brown, hairy, carry their babies on their backs, very fast runners); crab spiders (pale, crab shaped wall crawlers that skitter sideways like a crab); and other non-web makers, because they roam around and are more likely to roam across you.
An exception is the very cool jumping spider. This harmless (to us! not to bugs) spider is very distinctive looking, with big pedipalps (those weird things in the front that may look like fangs, but are actually for grabbing) and distinctive, highly visible eyes. They come in all sizes and colors, making up the largest species of spiders. And they rarely bite. You can pick them up -- but I wouldn't necessarily recommend it. They're easy to identify, because instead of running, they jump everywhere. And they do this by relaxing their anti-jumping muscles!!! How cool is this?? I always leave these in my house, and they eat fruit flies, etc. Thanks, Spidy!

Two other types of spider I'll consider leaving alone are orb weavers, because they generally stay put in their lovely, intricate orb webs and catch lots of bugs...especially out on the porch; and the common house spider. It makes a cobwebby web and hangs out in it, and will only bite if you grab and squeeze it. And why would you do that? There's one living under my kitchen window sill right now, and it's eaten plenty of fruit flies and little ants this summer!
I'm not saying let your home fill up with webs and spiders. That would be unpleasant! I'm just saying think before you squash. Spiders are really pretty neat.
If you liked this blog post, wait til I get on my high horse about people who needlessly kill snakes!
(Remember, The Shabby Housekeeper is not an arachnid expert, and only spouts off for her own enjoyment. She can not be held accountable if you get bitten by something and suffer for it. Thank you.)