Saturday, July 26, 2014

Emily Post's Worst Nightmare

My new transcriptionist t-shirt no longer smells of tortilla.  I took it out of the dryer and it just smelled a t-shirt.

Now it smells like banana.

We have some bananas getting ripe, so I made a desserty thing which included mashed banana rolled into a flour tortilla (because I love four tortillas).  When I got to the couch to go to sleep, still wearing the t-shirt (because I sleep in t-shirt and shorts), my hand brushed up against the shirt, and encountered something gooey.  Banana.  I spilled banana down the front of me and didn't even notice.

When I got up to change my shirt I noticed I had also spilled something on my shorts while cooking dinner, so I had to change them too.

For the moment, my clothes are clean.  But it is only a few hours until breakfast.

I cannot believe how sloppy I am with food.  None of those shaky old people at Atria can hold a candle to me when it comes to spillage.   If I'm not spilling things down my front, I'm knocking things over (as I did my mother's water glass today)

The dogs love me as much as dogs do whenever there is a toddler in the house who eats from a high chair.  Sheila and Lizzie stand next to me, with that pathetic "please share your food with me" look in their eyes, but Polly is the smart one.  She sits under the table, by my knees, certain that sooner or later something is going to drop off my fork onto my shirt, and roll its way down to the floor.

It's why I have dogs.  To keep the floor clean of all the stuff I spill on it.

Whenever we go somewhere that serves food on real plates and puts your silverware on cloth napkins, I really try to keep my napkin in my lap to catch the food I will inevitably drop, but my lap is so small, with that big protuberance of a belly resting on it, that 9 times out of 10 by the time I actually have dropped food onto my lap, my napkin is already on the floor, having lost the battle for possession of what lap there is to the belly.

Lunches at Atria almost aways include soup (because their soups are so good) and I almost always wear samples of the soup home with me.  I sometimes crumble crackers into the soup and bits escape, bouncing off the gable to leave samples dotting the black sweat pants I usually wear.

Meals like the Gilbert dinner we had the other night are wonderful because we were at a crab place and so they make a big display of giving you those godawful bibs to wear...but everyone is wearing them, so there is nothing to be embarrassed about and I generally come away from a dinner like that pretty much unscathed...unless, of course, I have made the mistake of having a dessert.  Creme brulee is my favorite dessert because it is pretty much solid with little to fall off onto my chest or into my lap.  Or both.

I don't know how long I've been such a disgraceful eater, but I do remember when I was in Australila, in 2003, Peggy telling me she could teach me not to spill food so much.  Her idea was that I sit closer to the table, with my mouth closer to the bowl or plate.  That would have worked well, but with my luck I'd end up dunking my chin into my meal and have to worry about food spillage on my face instead of my clothes.

I always wanted to envision myself as a sort of elegant lady who could eat at any table and be gracious and ... tidy.  But really, it's best to just send me out into the barn and slop me like the pigs because we'll probaby all look the same when the meal is finished.

I went to Atria for lunch today...a fairly solid meal with nothing much to spill, so I didn't embarrass myself ... and during the course of the meal I was telling my mother about finally learning how to shuck corn cleanly off the cob (a technique she had not heard of either).  She kind of moaned and said she hadn't had corn on the cob in forever.  So she's going to come to dinner tomorrow night and we'll have corn on the cob and lamb chops, which she also loves and which she doesn't get at Atria.

I thought about watching a movie too, but I don't want to push it.  I think a meal will be all that she can handle, but I'm thrilled that she wants to actually leave the building and come here for dinner.  This is the lady who was known to have eaten 8 cobs of corn at one sitting when she was a teenager.  That was when she acquired her nickname of "Chubby," which has followed her her entire life.

Day 26:  Happiness is my weekly lunch with my mother

Friday, July 25, 2014

Today at Logos

Walt says he loves Thursdays because he knows that on Friday he can read "Today at Logos," which are his favorite entries, so here is another one, trying to make a more or less boring day interesting for Walt!

There was a guy sitting at the front table when I came in.   His eyes brightened and he greeted me like he'd been waiting for me.  I didn't recognize him.  Susan was toward the back of the store and a guy, who I thought was the same guy from the front table was talking with her in French.  I was embarrassed ...again... about the language.  I understood most of what they were saying, but didn't have the nerve to actually open my mouth and say anything in French to him.  

The Frenchman left and Susan told me it was author Max Byrd, who is on the faculty at UC Davis.  Then Susan left and I was settling into the desk when the other guy, who wasn't the French guy at all, came over, sat in the chair by the desk, and settled in for a nice chat.  That's when I remembered he was the long-winded  guy from a couple of weeks ago, who sat here and talked for about half an hour, and when I had to ring up books, he talked to other customers, and then came back to talking to me.

Today he was telling me that he's a re-enactor, someone who recreates the experiences that others have written about. I know Civil War re-enactors are all the rage, but he says he doesn't do battles, rather he does travels over rough territory, following journals written by the original explorers.  To tell the truth, I didn't follow most of what he said and zoned out completely when he started telling me all about guns and rifles.  My notes on his half hour monologue this week are: "re-enactors, guns, book review, cartographer, mom 92."  I was aching for him to leave.  And he didn't even buy anything this time!

While he was talking, a guy who reminded me of Johnny Weir, who provided such color to the figure skating events at the Moscow Olympics was wandering around with a female friend. He was prettier than she was (and wore more jewelry).   They left without making a purchase and my monologist was still prattling on about guns.

He finally did leave and I went searching for a book to read.  I had decided that several people have raved about author Terry Pratchett and I was fairly certain we usually had several of his books, but when I went looking we didn't have any, so I went back to mysteries and chose another Ruth Rendell again.

A woman came in with a list of books for her 4th grade son.   She was dressed in jeans and a blue top with an elegant lace-like pattern in the back.  Her hair was in a ballerina-type bun and she had a beautiful silver necklace.   She said she had come here rather than to the Avid Reader, which sells the new books, because the titles were all old...apparently she thought we had a better chance of finding a book by Dickens in a used book store than in a new book store.  

A woman bought two contemporary fiction books and said she had to force herself to leave before she bought any more.  We agreed that the book store is a bad source of temptation!

All the while I was dealing with these customers, I kept smelling tortillas and couldn't figure out why.  Nobody had brought Mexican food into the store.  Finally I smelled my brand new t-shirt (see Photo of the Day) and discovered that everywhere it smelled of tortillas.  Guess it was made in a sweat shop in Mexico. (I threw it in the wash when I got home.)

A guy wearing a shirt from the Church of Scientology in Sacramento bought a coloring book of the human brain.  It was a rather thick book.   I wonder how much of the brain one can color!

A woman came in clutching a book on the history of theater in French.  It's been on display and I've been staring at it for weeks, but Peter recently moved it outside and she was thrilled that she could buy it for $1.

A young man in khaki shorts with a grey t-shirt and a navy blue ball cap came in.  He was wearing sandals and I noticed that the little toe on his left foot seemed to live in a world of its own, separate from the rest of the toes, not moving in synchronicity with them.  When they went down, it raised up like a pinkie finger holding a dainty cup at a fancy tea.  He never turned around so I could see if his right foot had a similar little toe.

He spent some time looking through the foreign books and finally bought a book in Spanish about Jews in Spain.
A woman who must be prematurely grey since she looked (and dressed) quite young, but had  all grey hair in a messy pony tail.  She was wearing a skimpy sundress and one arm was tattooed from the shoulder to the elbow.   She didn't buy anything either.

Outside, two women walked buy walking four dogs, one had three and the other had one.

A guy with a messenger bag came in and started checking out sci fi and fantasy books, but the thing you couldn't avoid noticing about him was his nose.  It was very large.  Not quite Cyrano length, but definitely large enough that if he had been a drinker, I would have compared it to W.C. Fields, but it was just...large. He looked around for a long tie and ultimately bought three literature books, including "The Birds" by Aristophanes, which I thought was odd because I had just been thinking of that story last week--I don't remember why.

The women with dogs walked by outside in the opposite direction.

A young woman wearing a brown UPS-colored ball cap, a blue t-shirt with a white chemise over it which had what looked like an x-ray of human ribs painted on it. She was very friendly and said a cheery hello.

My friend came at 4:30 and we discussed the weather today (hot) and predicted for the weekend (hotter) and the new bag policy for the store.   He bought a book on globes and maps.

A woman who reminded me of Jeri's godmother, also Jeri, came in with two bargain books.  She asked if we had a section on American authors.   I told her we did not.  She then wanted to know where our poetry books were and I showed her.  She kept talking to me, but I couldn't hear her.  She didn't seem very friendly, but she sat down where the long-winded buy had sat and asked for a restaurant recommendation.  I gave her the name of three nearby and then we started talking recipes.  She was intrigued by my recent success with the roasted chicken.

Two girls bought two Nancy Drew mysteries and asked if we had more.  I was shocked to discover there were only two on the shelves.  We've had about 30 in the children's room for almost as long as I've worked at Logos, but Peter told me that someone came in and bought them all, and the two that the girls bought were new donations.

I didn't get much reading done today, but the book is a good one and I brought it home, though it has to take a back seat to "Enrique's Journey," about a young boy whose mother left him in Honduras to come to the U.S. to find a better life for her and her family.  Twelve years later she still has not returned and he is hopping the immigrant train to find her.  It has been recommended to me by several people and though I am not that far into it yet, it is a real eye opener, both for the situations that the immigrants are fleeing and for the horrific conditions they suffer trying to get to this country.  It's a book I suspect should be read by many angry people in this country.

Day 25:  Happiness is a new t-shirt
(even if it does smell of tortillas!)

Thursday, July 24, 2014

Old Friends

A couple of days ago, I wrote about my old "friends," the kitchen equipment I've been using for nearly 50 years.   Today I write about old friends (without quotes).

The people in the Pinata Group are our oldest friends, the ones who have been in our lives for more than 50 years.  Several months ago, I pointed out to Char that we weren't getting any younger and that we should make a greater effort to get together more often.  We have our cruises, but other than that we don't see each other month.  Of course, the miles between us (it takes an hour to get from one house to the other) kind of works against that, but we decided we would make the effort, because we enjoy each other's company.

So a few months back, Char drove up in this direction and we met at the Nut Tree strip mall and had a lovely lunch at Fenton's Ice Creamery, an import from Oakland, and a place where we had eaten together in the old days.
It was fun and we resolved to do it once a month.

But resolutions like that are easy to forget when you get on with "life" in your respective corners of the state.
We tried awhile ago to make a luncheon engagement for the two of us with three other women of the Pinata Group, but that went nowhere.

We decided to get together this week, and Char chose Wednesday as the day.  Again, we tried to involve the three other women in the Pinata group, but one was traveling around the country, which she seems to do constantly, and wouldn't be in our area.  Another's husband was recovering from surgery and she didn't feel she could leave him.  That left Pat, who lives in Sacramento and was going to be free to have lunch with us.

I was charged with picking a restaurant that was (a) near Pat's house, (b) had soft food for Char who had just had dental surgery, and (c) had vegetarian selections for Pat, who is vegetarian.

I decided we would eat at a Mexican restasurant in Sacramento, near Pat's house.  I had been there once with Peach and our cousin Shirley and I remembered that it was a good place, should have lots of soft stuff, and lots of greens.

Char drove to Davis and picked me up, and we met Pat at the restaurant.

The waitress came to take our drink orders and I ordered my usual water but then changed my mind when Pat and Char both ordered margaritas.  I decided to have one too.  They were huge, but not very strong, so it was a good choice.

The really nice thing about eating with your oldest friends is that, as Char pointed out, you really know a lot about each other.  We knew each other's parents and siblings and attended a lot of funerals for those people (my mother is the only Pinata grandma still living). I talk easily to Susan at Logos, because she is the daughter of Char's cousin, and Char babysat with her when she was a baby.  I know all about the aunts, Leona and Mabel and their quirks and a lot of Susan's family are names I recognize. We are interested in Pat's sister-in-law, who is blind and lives by herself on several acres of land in the hills.  We picked olives in her garden one year, and planted trees in memory of Pat's son, who had died, on that property.

We realized that there were things that we didn't know, and had never thought to share, but with a shared background of 50 years, there were more than enough memories to go around, after updating information on what our kids had been doing lately (Char and I pretty much know what our own kids are doing, but we were interested in hearing about Pat's kids).

It was a leisurely lunch with lots of laughs and a reminder of why we have remained in each other's lives all these years.  It also underscored the importance of not letting our friendships just kind of drift off and get lost, as so many friendships do.

I feel like we're in a kind of weird money-less tontine. We're now in the last quarter (or less) of our lives.  We have already buried one woman, and another one has had a heart attack and is not doing well.  It's depressing to realize that we are at an age where any day now we could get "the" telephone call announcing which one of us has passed on.  Char and I have promised to give the eulogy at the funeral of whichever one of us dies first.  I'm a terrible speaker and get very,very nervous if I have to speak in public, so if she decides to die before I do, the thought of giving a eulogy might just kill me right then.

But it would seem appropriate if we had a double-funeral and let someone else do the eulogy.  I have the mental image of the two of us trying to stuff full sized Christmas trees into their little Saab, all those pumpkin pies we baked, and all the other silly stuff we have done togehter over the years.  I can't imagine life without her, so she'd jolly better well stick around until I die...

In the meantime, I'll settle for another lunch, maybe when Jeri's godmother, Jeri, is in town and can join us.

Day 24:  Happiness is Ladies Who Lunch

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Some (other) Enchanted Evening

August is a more or less quiet month for me, with regard to reviewing shows.  There is a new musical at Sacramento's Music Circus every other week and one Acme (the teen age company here in town) show, but all of the other theaters I review are winding down their summer shows.  In September things will perk up a lot.

I started as a critic about the same time I started writing Funny the World, so this is my 15th year trying to figure out what to say about the show I am seeing on any particular evening.  One of the joys of doing this job for so long is bonding with the little group of critics who go to the shows.  There are six of us, representing a daily newspaper, a weekly newspaper a couple of radio show, and streaming review site.  And then there is Walter.  I've never figured out exactly what Walter does, or if he even reviews any longer, but he and Ned used to work for the same radio station (Ned now works for a different radio station).  Walter, the oldest of us alll, God bless him, is still there for every show, with his wife.   He has lots of infirmities and we've see him from limping to a cane to now a walker, though he tells me he is having surgery next week so maybe he will be able to give up the walker eventually.

There is also another guy, alternate for one of the newspapers, who comes to most things.  He never joins our little critics circle, but his wife does.  She and I bonded over rescued dogs.  I thought I was bad...she's much worse!  And then there is the tall guy who started reviewing about a year before I did.  He and I have never spoken. He works for the "big" newspaper and people greet him like a rock star. He is head and shoulders (literally and figuratively) above us all, in the way he is viewed by the theater companies.  It always bugs me that one particular company always sets aside certain seats for him, but even though I good-naturedly (kind of) complained about his special treatment, still there are his seats, marked "reserved" and none reserved for any of the rest of us.

But I love that our core group often gets together for chit chat either before the show or at intermission (usually not after the show because we are all ready to go home to either write the review of sleep so we can get up and write the review).  

Tonight, the Music Circus was presenting South Pacific.   It seemed to me that I just saw that show by another theater, and research shows that I was right -- it was a couple of months ago.  We took my mother to a Davis production in March of this year.

Walt always drops me off before he goes into the garage to park the car, so I can pick up our tickets.  While I was waiting for him, I was chatting with one of our critics circle.  She said she had fear and trepidation about seeing this show, which she had not seen in awhile and how the sexism, chid prostitution, prejudice and xenophobia made her very uncomfortable, but that it was a popular show for the grey-hair, walker set.  

I didn't talk with her after the show, though I wish I had.   This was an outstanding production and if you couldn't see the stage, you would still think so because the voices were so amazing.  Perhaps across the board the best voices I have heard on that stage, and I have heard some pretty good voices in that theater. As for the negative aspects of it, as I said following the production of Grease, you kind of forgive them because (a) it was typical of both the era in which it was set and the era in which it was written, but more importantly (b) good wins out in the end, unlike Grease.

We had the good fortune to ride to and from the theater with a young man who attends UCD, the very demographic my fellow critic felt would have difficulty with the negativity in the show, so I told him I was very interested in his opinion, and was happy to hear that he felt about it the way I did...that the fact that Lt. Cable regrets his rejection of the native girl Liat before he dies, and that Nelly is able to overcome her distaste at the thought of Emile's marriage to a polynesian woman and giving her two children before her death, means that all live happily ever after (well, except for the guy who is killed in battle).

It will be fun to write the review (ain't gonna do it now, at 2 a.m.) because I loved everything about this production.  I am looking forward to hear what my friend has to say about it...she won't be writing the review, as she shares the reviews with another person and so this was her week to just enjoy and not have to go home and figure out what to say about it.

Day 23 -- Happiness is knowing how to manipulate photos in PhotoShop

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Old "Friends"

F_Pot.jpg (41057 bytes)When I was cooking the pasta for our pasta with pesto the other night, I was filling this pot with water and, though I don't often think about things like this, I realized that we received this pot as a wedding gift and I have probably used it at least once a week for the past 49 years.

If I could remember who gave us this pot, I would write them a letter and let them know how much I have enjoyed this addition to our kitchen for all these years.  It has seen soups and stews, has steamed vegetables, baked casseroles.   I can't think of a piece of kitchenware that I have used more.

But then I started looking around the kitchen at the kinds of things I use all the time and thinking about how much they have been used over many years.

F_casserole.jpg (36262 bytes)This was also a wedding present.  It's a Le Creuset casserole.  It hasn't seen as much use as the pot above, but it has definitely seen it's share of casseroles especially stuffing on Thanksgiving and Christmas and home made macaroni and cheese.
I know who gave us this wedding gift..  It was a gift of Arnold and Eve Nordsieck, parents of our friends who just celebrated their 50th anniversary.  Arn was a physicist -- there is an award named for him at the University of Illinois.  But he was most famous among our friends for inventing a "death ray" that he said was really only good for opening potato chip bags. 

Sadly, neither Arn or Eve are still around, or I would send them a thank you note too.  Have you priced LeCreuset-ware these days? They sell it in our local supermarket. I think this casserole today would be over $200. I can't even afford a LeCreuset butter dish!

F_cutting.jpg (58678 bytes)This was not a wedding gift, but it is the cutting board I have used for more than 40 years. And I smile whenever I think about how I came to acquire it.
Walt was out of town--I don't know where. I was at home in Oakland with our 4 kids, and was pregnant with David.  We were having problems with our shower and I had called a plumber, who was going to come by and check it out.

Two couples called to ask if I could watch their toddlers (two of them) while they went out to dinner.  I said yes.  When they arrived, I was telling them about the leak in the shower.  The shower backed up on a big linen closet and the guys decided that when the plumber came, he would have to go into the pipes through the linen closet, so to thank me for watching their kids, they emptied the closet for me so I wouldn't have to do so.

The plumber came, looked at the shower, tightened a couple of things and was out of the house without even opening the door to the linen closet, so I was left with the task of putting all the linens back into the closet myself.  When the couples returned, they gave me this cutting board as a thank you. I cannot tell you how many chickens, turkeys, and roasts have been carved on its surface. I never take it out of the cupboard without thinking about our friends, whom we have not seen in decades (one of them has since died).

F_Mixer.jpg (40924 bytes)The workhorse of the kitchen is this Kitchenaid mixer.  We got it when we were living in Oakland, so more than 40 years ago.  In those days I made all of our bread and I can't begin to calculate how many loaves of bread it has mixed.  Now I have a bread maker and I'm not sure I even know where the dough hook is any more, but it certainly was a godsend for bread for many years.

Then it did yeomen's work in my cake decorating years. It seemed that it was in use many times almost every day.

I can't possibly count the number of the batches of cookies it has helped me make, the number of batches of mashed potatoes it has mashed.  It's a great testament to Kitchenaid that in all those years, with all that use, I think we once, many years ago, had to get a replacement part for it.  And we've gone through several replacement paddles, but it's still running like a champ.

(The toaster in the background, was a gift from my cousin Kathy maybe 15 years ago.  It doesn't work very well and I'd like to get a new one.  We have gone through lots of toasters in 49 years and none of them has done the work that the Kitchenaid has, but they just have a short lifespan.)

F_Tupperware.jpg (48675 bytes)I don't buy Tupperware any more.  And I have enough Tupperware and other brands of oastic storage containers that I don't need to buy anything else, but when I look at this cupboard, I remember that probably most of the actual Tupperware that I own I purchased from our friend Concetta, when she was a Tupperware representative, more than 40 years ago (it's easy to determine times when all is either BD or AD, meaning Before Davis or After Davis.  The Tupperware was BD).

She later developed MS and eventually was in a wheelchair for many, many years, before she died a couple of years ago.  But I never open this cupboard without thinking of Concetta and the Tupperware parties I attended so many years ago.   I miss that camraderie these days.
As an aside, we were at the Museum of American History building of the Smithsonian many years ago and I saw some of the Tupperware that is in this cupboard, and that I still use, on display there!

There are other work horses in my kitchen, but I think these are the ones that have been with me the longest, and the ones that I still use today.

Day 22:  Happiness is a visit with a friend we haven't seen in 30 years

Monday, July 21, 2014

I Love This Stuff

I don't really have the expertise to write this page, but I'm going to write it anyway.

Yesterday I took my mother's meds for next week over to her.   She was the last in a list of errands I was running around town, the last stop of which was at CVS to get her some lipstick, since she's used the lipstick I bought about 3 months ago (I can't even imagine using up a lipstick.  I can't remember the last time I wore any!)

ANYWAY, I was listening to NPR as I drove around and as I was approaching Atria, there was a podcast about words.  I was drawn into it by a woman named Susan Schaller who has written a book called "A Man Without Words."   It's the story of a 27 year old man she met in a sign language class.  He had no words.  He didn't know what language was.  He had no concept of "sound." He saw people interacting with each other and he mimicked them, but he didn't know why. He just thought he was stupid because he couldn't figure out what they were doing.

Hearing her tell about her methods of trying to get him to understand that everything has a name, and the big a-HA moment when he "got it" sounded almost like a quote out of The Miracle Worker, and Annie Sullivan's work trying to get the concept of words through to Helen Keller, and the flood of communication that resulted from that breakthrough.

The interview morphed into one with a guy named Charles Fernyhough, a Brit (of course--who else but someone British would have a name like Fernyhough?) who studied Natural Sciences and Developmental Psychology, with emphasis on child development.

He talked about the relationship between words and concepts.  He gave as an example a rectangular room, painted all white.  You put a mouse in the room and put a treat in one corner and once he learns how to go to that corner he's fine.   But if you pick him up and spin him around and putting him back, he doesn't have a clue in which direction to go.

If you paint one wall blue he still can only find the treat 50% of the time.  Though the mouse can see color, he doesn't know the concept of using that as a clue to find his treat.

Then he talked about children and how they don't make this connection either until they are about 6.  Though children younger than 6 are very verbal, they haven't yet developed the concept of a relationship between things. But around 6, all the synapses are firing and they know objects, they know colors and they know directions and can put all of those concepts together.  

"The toy is to the left of the blue wall" would mean nothing to Lacie, for example, even though she may know colors and directions, but doesn't understand how you can use one in relation to the other. but Bri should be able to figure it out.

I sat there fascinated because I was wondering if Fernyhough had ever applied his theory to people at the end of life.  I have been noticing this vocabulary/concept disconnect with my mother for months.

The plant is looking sick.  Water will help the plant look better again.  But that does not translate into "I will go put some water on the plant."

Likewise, "that silver pitcher is tarnished.  I need silver polish."  But having a jar of silver polish sitting next to the pitcher does not translate into "I can use this polish to polish that pitcher."  The silver polish has been sitting there for about 10 months now and the pitcher is still tarnished.   (I could polish it, of course, but this is an experiment for me!)

I see this over and over with her and had not thought to relate it to toddler behavior until I heard the podcast yesterday. As she loses more and more words, she loses more and more connections.  She can't figure out how to make a hair appointment any more,  I discovered yesterday.

In fact, I was so fascinated by what he was saying that I looked up Fernyhough's web page and actually wrote to him to ask what he thought of my theory.   He'll probably think I don't know what I'm talking about but...hey...maybe I'll open up a whole new area of investigation for him.  But more likely I'll never hear from him at all.

Day 21 -- Happiness is realizing your granddaughter looks like a Frozen princess

(I actually watched all of Frozen today...the plot makes more sense without small children in the room singing and dancing and talking!)

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Sunday Stealing

Welcome back to Sunday Stealing which originated on WTIT: The Blog authored by Bud Weiser. Here we will steal all types of memes from every corner of the blogosphere. Our promise to you is that we will work hard to find the most interesting and intelligent memes. You may have heard of the expression, “honor amongst thieves”. In that age-old tradition, we try to credit the blog that we stole it from and we will “fess up” to the blog owner where we stole the meme. We also provide a link to the victim's meme. (It's our way of saying "Thanks!") Sometimes we edit the original meme, to make it more relevant to our global players, to challenge our players, to select the best questions, or simply to make it less repetitive from this new meme or recently asked questions from a previously featured meme.
Let's go!!!

From: Quizopolis
Favorite summer flower:

sunflower.jpg (67543 bytes)

Flavor of ice cream:

Hard to nail down just one, but the one I probably order Butter Pecan more often than anything else.

Mode of transportation:
Car.  I enjoy the scenery, can listen to music or a book in the car, rest stops en route, etc..  Of course, driving a long distance can get to ya after awhile.   Going long distances, I prefer an airplane (though I would love to take the train across the Canadian Rockies)
These days, probably show music is what I listen to when I listen to music (which isn't often).


Dungeness crab, of course ... or anything I don't have to cook myself.  For dining out, my first choice is usually Chinese or Mexican.

Favorite game to play:

I loved Cousins Days and our marathon games of the card game "65," which aren't possible any more, since Kathy is dead, Peach has moved halfway across the country, and my mother has dementia, so right now my favorite (and only) game is Word with Friends.

Earliest childhood summer memory:

Going to Sunnyside Cottages at Boyes Hot Springs.  It's where I learned to swim.   I remember that "Mona Lisa" played it seemed all the time at the swimming pool complex and I ate Neopolitan taffy. I occasionally got to ride horses when I was older, and on one of those vacations, when I was 7,  I got my very first hair cut, leaving my long curls on the floor of the beauty shop.

Favorite Drink:

Water.  Cold water (either from a cooler, or over ice)

Favorite Snack:

Hmmm...maybe peanuts? Usually something salty and crunchy.

Place to read:

In my recliner.

Most annoying:

Chris Matthews (I used to like him), Carl Rove & Dick Cheney (never liked them)

How I handle the heat:

Air conditioning, fans, and ice water.

Pet Peeve:

I just came from the post office, where I mail things at least once a week.   They now have a sign asking you about what's in your package, if you need special services, if you want to buy a mail box, etc.  Even though I point to the sign and say "no - no - no- no" to each of the four columns, they have to ASK me the questions for each column every. frigging. time.  Drives me nuts.

All-time favorite bathing suit:

It has been so long since I wore a bathing suit, I can't even remember what suits I used to have.

Best Time of Day:

After dinner when I have no guilt about watching TV or working on the computer (which I do all day anyway, but it's only guilt-less after dinner!)  I used to love morning and I still do, but getting up in the morning signals the dogs that it's time to go berserk so I'm more likely to lounge about for awhile before letting them know I'm functional.

Summer movie:

I'm not a big movie watcher, not because I don't love movies, but because we just never seem to get to the theater, so I'm not up on current movies, no matter what the season.  But for a movie about summer, In the Good Old Summertime. Summerstock, or Summertime are favorites.

Happy Day 20:  

Day 20 -- Happiness is finding yourself stopped at a stoplight
and  realizing that the car in front of you has an interesting backside.