"Getting rid of everything that doesn’t matter allows you to remember who you are. Simplicity doesn’t change who you are, it brings you back to who you are."

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Taming The Beast

After SM and I had spread the pine straw around the berries the other day, I looked around to evaluate the rest of the garden.

Freaking Bermuda is everywhere! 

Chuck was supposed to keep it check but was obviously he is such a slacker in this department!  Too busy pulling up his pants I guess.




Even SM is intimidated.  Either that or he really dislikes hanging upside down pulling grass.  ("Join the club, Dude!") 

"What does Google say about keeping Bermuda out of your garden?  He asked me.

"It says to do THAT."  I say, pointing at the raised beds.

(Sigh.)

This is what I get trying to reclaim ground from a suburban lawn.  A merry-go-round of frustration!

SM bent over and yanked at a wad of grass.  It broke in his hands.

"Too dry, Baby!"  I hollard at him.  "We need to track the runners back to the mother-ship and then pull it at the base.  The ground's too dry for that though."

We usually have a dry Fall around here.  This year is exceptionally dry though.  No rain in weeks and none in the forecast.

"Whatcha gonna do?"  SM asks.

"Well, time is on our side."  I reply.  "Hopefully we'll get some rain at some point this Winter."  I say, rubbing my face and looking around.

"Then it'll be too cold to want to be outside dealing with all this."  SM responds.

"Maybe."  I say, stomping over to my cardboard garden.  When we expanded the garden last year we ran out of "prep" time. It got so hot, so fast that we scratched the idea of working up this back section.  Now that winter is coming it's time to consider what to do with amending this ground.  I'd been tossing cardboard on it to keep the grass and weeds in check.

First things first!  I'll need more cardboard.  (Freakin Bermuda!) 

"Do you want me to double dig this?  SM asked looking at the hard ground.

"No...I think I'll just lay down a double layer of cardboard first, then toss the straw or leaves on top of that, then lots of compost.  That's work we can do this winter."

I had some cardboard that I'd gotten from work back in the Jeep.  I went and got that and tossed it on the ground.  I had about 5 rotting straw bales that I hadn't used.  I tossed those on top.



Well, it's a start.  Gonna take awhile but that's the thing about gardening, isn't it? 

You learn the value of time.  And appreciate all the effort that's put into taming the beast.


Saturday, November 24, 2012

Pardon The Interruption But...



We must interrupt our regularly scheduled programing to stand and cheer for all these hard working kids, both in the band and on the football team.  Heart and soul...These kids put everything in to it.  Across The Field still brings a tear to my eye even after all these years.

GO BUCKS!!!!!

Nighty, Night

It's supposed to get down to 25 degrees tonight.  Brr, freakin Brr!

Since we lost our fall garden to our wild kingdom of critters this year, I didn't think much about the coming cold snap. 

But SM did.

"What about the strawberries?"  He wanted to know.

This is our first year growing strawberries and while they stopped putting out fruit about a month ago, the plants themselves are deep green, happy and have survived the 32 degree frosts we've had the past few weeks just fine.

But I knew that there's a big difference between a frost and a hard freeze.  SM suggested we just toss our old bed sheets over them.  I wasn't so sure that was the best solution so I googled what to do and came across various articles that suggested straw. 

The problem with regular old straw is that it brings with it lots of seeds. I figured that out fast enough this year after using straw last fall in my raised beds. THAT was a mistake!  I've got enough weeds, thank you very much, so instead I told SM to go get us some pine needle straw.

Pine needle straw is big around here.  Most folks use it to beautify their landscaped beds.  I was interested in it when we first moved here but always thought that the twice a year application of fluffy pine straw was ridiculous.  The expense!  This stuff ain't cheap let me tell you! 

Every Spring and Fall a huge truck rolls through our neighborhood stopping at each house and knocking on the door to see if the homeowner is wanting to buy.  It's a great service if you think about it, but they must pay a premium for it.  The guys hop down and spread the straw for you too. 

Being from the north, I've always used pine bark nuggets and gotten along fine with a once a year "freshening" if the beds looked thin so I've never bothered with the straw before.

So SM went out this past week and bought 6 bales.  He said the nursery wanted $4.50 per bale so he went to the big box and got them for $3.80 each.




We went out yesterday and spread it.  "How much are you supposed to put down?"  SM hollared at me. 

I shrugged.  "It's supposed to act like an insulating blanket so I'd lay it on thick enough that you can't see the plant."

So we covered them up and said "Good Night". 




I think I'll like the pine straw for the berries.  Next spring I can mash them down around the plants for a protective mulch so it'll keep the dirt from splashing on the fruit.


Friday, November 23, 2012

Turkey Hash, Turkey Sandwiches...

Gosh, there's so much you can do with a huge-ass leftover 19 pound turkey. 

Yes, I did say 19 pound turkey.   That's what I roasted yesterday.  19 pounds for two people.

Every year I try and talk SM out of buying the biggest beast in the bin.  But every year I'm shot down.  I can tempt him all I want with the idea of Cornish Game hens but SM will have none of it. 

Last week while I shopped for sides and fixings, zooming up and down the aisles of the market, SM was circling the frozen turkey bins.  They had the usual Butterballs, Honeysuckles, and off brand turkeys.  SM must have spent 10 minutes poking, circling and considering.  Finally he placed a frozen bird in the cart.

"How come this one?"  I asked.  "Did it speak to you?"  I teased him.

SM just shot me a dirty look.  You do not mess with SM and his turkey. 

So after 5 days in the fridge to thaw, the bird was put in the oven yesterday at 7 am.  SM went so far as to give me directions.  You see, he'd been watching Good Eats with Alton Brown on the food channel a few days before Thanksgiving.  (He knows that I consider Alton Brown a GOD in the world of good food.  IMHO, Alton can do no wrong.) 

So I followed SM's / Altons lead and cranked my oven as high as it would go and stuffed the bird in for 30 minutes on high.  Then turned it down to 350 with the breast covered with foil and a meat thermometer stuck in the breast.  Yes this bird was greased and salt and peppered.  I even shoved a stick of butter under the skin before roasting.

Three hours later I pulled it out and eyeballed it.  Quite frankly I thought I had the Griswald bird on my hands.  Dry and crispy.

But after I let it sit for 30 minutes and cut into it, I found this bird to be one of my best ever.  The high heat sealed all the juice inside it.  It was wonderful!  Half the breast went into the freezer and I broke down the carcass and legs and wings and shoved them into the stock pot.  It's simmering on the stove top as we speak.

 

Good Grief...Look at that broth already!  This soup just might be the best part of Thanksgiving Dinner!

So what are you doing with your leftovers?  I'm sure we could all use some inspiration!


Thursday, November 22, 2012

Comfort House

Comfort. 

What a nice word.  It relaxes me just to say it.

To me, comfort is about thick, soft socks on a cold morning and warm fluffy blankets to curl up under when you're sleepy later in the evening. 

Comfort is seeing my sleeping puppies, wodged into all sorts of strange positions.




Ginny becomes one with whatever pillow, blanket or cushion is around her.  I've never seen a dog absorb her environment more. 




Casey still sleeps like a puppy.  She collapses and "hogs" the space.  (My little piggy girl.)  She's a dreamer too.  Her little feet flipping as she chases a dream rabbit across the yard.




Scooter is my brick.  Plop.  There he is.  Hard floor or sofa, he could care less.  When he wants to sleep, he passes out wherever.  And somehow he makes it look comfortable.  We have to watch out for him though as it's too easy to trip over him when I'm cooking in the kitchen.

Comfort is our old cat, purring and snuggling closer to my Old Man. 




"Yeah, I understand KiKi."  Wherever SM is, you can find KiKi curled up close by.

When I need comfort myself, I hug SM. There's just something about snuggling my face into his neck that comforts me. I breathe in his scent and feel myself relax. (I swear I could be blindfolded and would be able to pick SM out of a lineup by his scent alone.)

And of course there's always comfort food and since today is Thanksgiving we are all about cooking up our favorite comfort foods.  On our menu today?  Likely the same thing you're cooking.  Turkey with all the yummy sides.  My favorite things are the cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes and butternut squash. 

SM, on the other hand, loves it all. 

And later, after the mess is all cleaned up and the turkey carcass is in the soup pot, I'm sure we'll all doze a bit, exhausted from a tough day.

Comfort.  That's what Thanksgiving is all about for me. 

What brings you comfort today?

Monday, November 19, 2012

Connect The Dots

Now that the dark days of Winter are here, I find that driving home from work in the dark has become more challenging than ever.




I think part of it is because Charlotte traffic just gets more and more intense every year.  People really drive nutty around here.  I'm grateful every day that I make it home safely without being involved in a wreck.  You do start to feel that it's only a matter of time before you'll hit or be hit.  You just hope it won't be too bad when it does happen.

I'm finding that some of the newer neon head lights are horrible.  Intense blue, what's up with that?

But even worse are the red dotted-tail lights.  Do you know the ones?  Not only are they neon too but the dot pattern makes my eyeballs go all widgey.

When I get behind one of those cars and they hit their brakes in front of me, the intensity of those dotted lights make me feel like I could have a seizure.  I pull down the visor to block the light or better yet let another car slide in front of me.

The new police lights affect me too.  It's so intense I can hardly see.  Day time or night time they're horrible.  Even SM complains about them.

When do the day's start getting longer?  Another month? 

Bring back the daylight!  It's not soon enough for me!



Saturday, November 17, 2012

I (Heart) Hoodies

For the past 10 years I have made LL Bean richer by buying their fleece pullovers.  Love em!





I simply call them "Shells".  I've worn them constantly at home during cooler weather for years now.  Until recently.

I've discovered that during a hot flash, you just can't get these things off fast enough and trust me, I can move pretty freakin fast when the flame comes on.

So I bought some hoodies on sale while at Kohls a few months ago for 2 reasons.  They were cotton (which becomes your new best friend during menopause) and they had a zip front which I figured would help with temperature regulation and ease of removal.  Both of these are huge assets but I've discovered a third reason to love my hoodies.

The hood itself.

Whenever I google for information about (peri) menopause, you find all sorts of information on managing hot flashes, moodyness and sleep disruption.  But whats bothering me the most right now is that my thermostat seems completely busted. 

As in I'm having hot flashes AND bone deep shivering cold chills. 

As in freezing. 

As in WTF?!? 

But I'm beginning to believe these temperature swings are causing my headaches/migraines.  Yes, they're back @:(

For about the past month now I've had 24 hour, 2-3 times a week, "Jesus-God, kill me now!" headaches.  Even my combination of Tylenol, caffeine and chocolate is starting to fail me.

I've even taken some of SM's percocet.  THAT kicked it, but "Geez" what a lousy option.  And not an option I can use while at work.

One day, after spending several hours freezing in the OR with a massive, eye squinching migraine, I put my hoodie on and pulled the lid over my top.  Sitting in my bosses office afterwards, having our post sx pow-wow, I noticed my headache starting to go away. 

Huh.

Another time while suffering a migraine,  I took a percocet.  A little better, but still there.  Then took a really hot shower and let it pound on the back of my head.  The headache went away.

Huh.

So now, for the past few weeks I've been running around home (and work) with a hoodie on.  If my head starts to feel chilly, on put the lid back on.

SM  has taken to calling me "his little uni-bomber."




How scary is that? 

(Except I don't have the mustache thing going on.)

Friday, November 16, 2012

What A Crock

SM bought me my first crock pot, oh twenty some-odd years ago. 

I didn't really know all that much about crock pot cooking (still don't for that matter) but SM sure did.  He would regale me with stories of coming home after a long hard day at school and smelling his dinner as soon as he opened his front door.   His eyes still light up over the thoughts of a slow cooked chicken, meat falling off the bone.

So I followed his lead and am more than happy to toss in a bird or a chunk of beef in the morning and let the crock pot do it's thing.  Nothing tenderizes meat better than slow cooking.  If I'm home, I'll often use my cast iron dutch oven to get a faster result, but if we're both going to be away from the house all day, I do feel comfortable using the crock pot. 

That is until recently.

My old crock pot stoneware base and glass top are still in excellent condition.  Short of dropping and breaking it, you really can't kill them.  But the electric outer shell (container) is on it's last legs.  One of the handles had broken off and every time I used I felt that too much heat was coming off the unit itself.  The counter top was terribly hot where the crock pot sat.  Lately, I've had concerns that the electrical wiring might  just "fry" the whole unit while we're gone someday and burn the house down.

So SM and I have been on the lookout for a new crock.  As we shopped I noticed that they're available in all shapes and sizes.  I didn't want a tall one, I wanted a big oval one.  I also noticed that the lids are plastic now.  What's up with that?  Why not glass?  And what's with the lid lock thingy-ma-bobs?

I delayed and delayed.  And then I used my old crock one more time while I was home to monitor things.  After that chicken was done I told SM  "That's it.  We're done.  It's time to retire the old crock."




So I sucked it up and bought a new one from Sams Club.

After unpacking it and reading the instruction manual (which says that the lid locks are NOT used during cooking) I felt a little better about it.  Although I can't figure out what I'd use the "Little Dipper" thingy for.  What a waste unless you're a party person and you use a lot of hot dips.  (I think I'll see if any of my co-workers who throw parties can use it.)




This week, I bought us a beef chuck roast (splurge, but we were craving beef) and used the new crock pot for first time.   It did a GREAT job as I expected it would. 

All I really cook in my crocks are meats.  What are some of your favorite things to crock?


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

It Ain't Pretty

(SM and I are in the process of giving the master bath a face lift.  I want to repaint the walls and cabinet so I brought home a bunch of paint samples from Sherwin Williams.  They were having a 40% off sale this past weekend that I wanted to take advantage of.)

So SM is wanting to head out to work but I ask him to wait so we can look at the paint "chips" together and make a final decision so I can go buy the paint.





"Let me go get some tape and tape these to the wall."  I say going into the kitchen while SM heads to the computer to check an email. 

(*I like to step back from the wall a bit with the paint chip taped to the wall.  It gives me a better idea how things will look plus you can move it around the room to catch different lighting.)

I look in the kitchen junk drawer.  No tape.  Except for some clear "packing tape" which I go ahead and grab along with some scissors.  Back in the bathroom I start to tape the paint chips to the wall. 

After a minute or two the chip falls off the wall so I pick it back up and using my finger nail rub the tape harder to the wall to get it to stick.

I step back with SM.  More chips fall off the wall. 

"Son of a B!t@h.." I exclaim, moving forward to grab at the chips.

"There's some masking tape in the garage, do you want me to go get it?"  SM asks.

"Yeah...This stuff is $h!t"  I reply trying to tape them back onto the walls. 

(As SM leaves I hear his phone go off which he answers as he's heading down the hallway.)

By this time my temper is up and my body decides to rejoice in the moment by giving me a hotflash.  So I'm shucking off my hoodie, grabbing at paint chips as they fall when I reach the hottest, sweatiest point in the flash and I SNAP.

I mean I REALLY SNAP....

"Bloody Fuc&!ng B@$tards" I rage, grabbing the roll of packing tape pulling out a 4 foot piece of tape and slapping it on the wall to keep the chips in place.  And I keep slapping the wall growling obscenities at it (because it feels good) until I happen to catch a look at myself in the mirror. 

Red faced, sweaty and frazzled. 

When I realize I've gone over the edge, I start laughing.  And then I'm laughing so hard I start crying. 

I wander out to find SM who's standing there with a roll of masking tape in his hands asking "WHAT is going ON?  What was all that pounding about?"

"I've lost it.  I've gone over the edge."  I say laughing harder.  The look on SM's face is priceless.  And I know what he's thinking. 

*SM has a golf buddy that I've nicknamed "Stinky Steve" because he smokes and I can't stand the smell of smoke.  Stinky Steve's wife (whom I've never met) went through menopause a few years ago and had a tendency to throw things at her husband.  Often.

SM takes a slight step away from me as I try to get a grip and stop laughing, wiping my eyes.

"It's OK, I left the scissors in the bathroom."  I say  "I'm sorry it just felt so good to pound on that wall."

"So you don't have any ashtray's you're going to fling at my head?"  SM asks as we walk back to the bathroom.

"No you're safe enough.  And there's no need for the masking tape.  I took care of it."  I say pointing to the wad of packing tape holding up the paint chips.

"Geez..Tam.  Did you use enough tape?"  He asks.  I let out a giggle.

Wow...Never snapped like that before.  No wonder moodiness is listed as a menopausal symptom. 





Maybe that's all that was wrong with Glenn Close.  She was having a hotflash.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Apples and Greens

Sunday found me working on making applesauce.  I admit I've been a slacker in that department, always finding something else better to do. 

All the apples that we'd bought last month have been hanging out in the garage keeping cool but I noticed an unusual odor last week that told me some of the apples were starting to rot.

I've been really disappointed with this batch of apples from a "fresh eating" standpoint.  Not much flavor.  (I wonder if our hot summer had anything to do with it but the apples this year are just bland.) 

No biggie.  That's the beauty of applesauce.  Stew em down, toss in some brown sugar and cinnamon and you've got the best tasting sauce on the planet.  Or at least that's what my resident taste-tester SM says.

So Sunday found me putting up 12 quarts of chunky, cinnamon applesauce.  I also made us some mustard greens.

Greens?  In my house?

I had spoken with my southern neighbor Deb the other day about how to cook the mustard greens that I'd planted (at her suggestion) this past Fall.  These puppies are huge and the frosts we've had don't seem to bother them at all. 




Deb had said to pick a huge amount as they will cook down.

I pulled the leaves from the steams and stuffed them into my other stock pot along with 2 cups of water. 


Whamo.  That pot cooked down to nothing flat.  Deb says she stews them for about an hour and adds some ham or bacon for flavor.  I also looked up a few recipes online and added some apple cider vinegar, red pepper flakes, garlic salt and (SM suggested) some brown sugar to the bacon I'd cooked them with.




SM and I both liked this dish.  How about that?  I'm actually eating "Southern" food!  Will wonders never cease?

Sunday, November 11, 2012

This Is A Test, This Is Only A Test...

On this blog, I have often complained about my northern taste buds.  I was raised on northern fruits and veggies.  It's what I crave.  And I've been disappointed more than once trying to grow a Yankee vegetable in the South. 

It's tough to be an apple and cauliflower girl in the land of peanuts and watermelons.  Okra will never find a home on my little 1/2 acre.

Over the past few years, I've made the effort to branch out a little, attempting my first melons (cantaloupe) and planting natives like muscandine grapes and even put in a peach tree in our back yard.

Next year I'm committing a large patch of dirt to sweet potatoes.  Every one around here says they're easy to grow and yummy besides.  But that's part of the problem.  Given the choice, I prefer white (russet) potatoes.  Sweet potatoes (or yams) are OK but were always relegated to the holiday table with mini marshmallows swarming on top. 

(It's a Yankee thing.  I never could stand the stuff.  Is that what we do with food we don't understand?  Cover it up?)

This Fall I planted turnips.  I've never eaten a turnip in my life but wanted to try something new.  SM was having none of it.  Turnips are a big fat "Yuck" on his food meter.  I blew off his opinion though and bought some Boule D'or seeds from Baker Creek thinking a home grown turnip would taste a whole lot better than a store bought one.

Saturday 7 am finds me putting on my winter coat and heading outside into the frosty morning. 

SM is on his first cup of Joe.

"Where are you going."  He asks me sleepily.

"Out to the garden."  I said zipping up.  "I want to try those turnips out.  I've heard that they're pretty tasty if you fry them up with potatoes and onions.  You know, Home Fries."

SM's eyes snap open. 

(Nothing wakes a man up faster than the promise of Home Fry contamination by the Missus.)

"I told you before I won't eat those things."  SM proclaims. 

"Relax...I'll make you a separate batch of potatoes."  I said breezing by him.  (Damn...I blew my hand!  I shouldn't have said anything until after the taste testing was done.)

I wander out to the garden curious as to what I'll find.  The only thing the rabbits left behind was the turnips and the mustard greens. 



We've had several frosts this past week.  It's also been super dry here.  No rain at all.  The ground is as hard as concrete. 


Everything is a bit wilted with the frost.

I pull up a few turnips and head back in.


Wash, peel and chop.  (I even have a few sweet onions left from this years crop hanging in there!)  I get out 2 frying pans and start to cook.


SM wanders by keeping an eye on the situation.  "Which one has the turnips in it?"  He asks quizzing me. 

I point with my spatula. 

"You aren't trying to sneak any in there are you?"  (He knows me too well...)

"Would I do that to you?" Knowing full well I would but sensing that I shouldn't push it. 

I hand him his turnip free portion and proceed to take a few bites of the fried turnip mixture.  "Huh..."  I say. 

"Tastes a bit stronger than a potato, but has the same texture.'  I take another bite.  "Kinda has a radish flavor during the first bite."  I'm personally NOT a radish fan.

I put the plate down and move away to peel and chop up some other turnips to boil and mash and see what those taste like.  I figure if I leave the plate unprotected, SM just might check it out.  You see, SM loves food, so curiosity alone will usually get him to tasting it.


Sure enough, after he's eaten HIS home fries he picks up my plate, eyeballs the embedded Kryptonite in it and picks up a little turnip cube with his fork.

"Is this a turnip?"  He asks. 

I peer at the nasty bit.  "I think so.  See?  It's a bit more yellow than the potato."

SM tastes it. 

I'm prepared to step away in case he decides to spit it out.  Instead I hear him say, "Not bad..." 

He spears another nasty bit.  Three more bites and he's done.  I raise my eyebrows at him in inquiry.

"Still don't like it."  He says moving off.

I pick up the plate and eat what's left over trying to find something redeeming about the flavor of a turnip. 

"Come on, Tami!"  I say to myself.  "The bugs and bunnies leave them alone.  This could be the prize jewel in your garden if you can get used to the flavor."

Fried stuff gone, I then turn my attention back to the mashed turnips.  Even with butter, salt and pepper and a splash of half and half, this stuffs nasty. 

As in "Yuck!" 

As in I can totally see why SM doesn't like turnips.

I turn away to answer the phone and while I'm talking I see SM come over, peer into the pan, take a fork and taste the mashed stuff.  No words are needed between us. 

Yuck!

So will I grow turnips again?  I'm not sure.  I think time will tell.  I don't want to waste the turnips I have left in the garden.  As long as I fry them with the potatoes, I think they'll be edible.

You wouldn't think it would be so hard to turn your taste buds, would ya?  

Saturday, November 10, 2012

PTED

After telling myself that I wasn't going to vote, then voting (early I might add) then telling SM how liberating it was to have gotten THAT out of the way, then discovering on election day that I actually DID give a crap how things went down...Well, lets just say that I'm suffering a bit of Post Traumatic Stress (er)Election Disorder. 

Yeah that's a new one.  PTED

I admit that I voted for the guy that lost.

I also admitted to SM that I stood there with my voting ballot in hand deeply considering tossing my vote to Gary Johnson instead if for no other reason than to protest our crappy two party system.

So it has come as a bit of a surprise that I've been feeling let down after the election results came in.  It's taken me a couple of days but I now realize that what's got me so down and blue lately is that I was actually HOPING for the promise of an economic recovery.

You know.  Good times.  Happy days are here again.  Looking forward to making things right again.

Instead, I'm just a little a bit verklempt that we get to look forward to another 4 years of the same old crap we just went thorough along with some new dramas with titles like Lame Duck, Fiscal Cliff and the 2013 Recession.

Not that I ever felt that we got out of the "old" recession.

So say "Hello" to more negativity and drama.  Say hello to inflation.  Say "Hello" to part-time jobs, government medicine and kicking the can down the road.

I promise that I'll get back to my normal blogging topics soon.  I've just got to shake this mood off.




Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Blue Fish


One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish

“From there to here,
from here to there,
funny things are everywhere.”
One fish two fish“Oh me! Oh my!
Oh me! Oh my!
What a lot of funny
things go by.”
“Today is gone.
Today was fun.
Tomorrow is
another one.”


The people have spoken and "Yes" I did vote. 

It's in my nature to hope for a better tomorrow.  But for that to happen our elected officials need to start talking to each other.  To start working together.  I can't really say that I've seen much of that over the past 4 years.  Maybe the next 4 years will be different. 

Maybe.

Here's hoping for a better tomorrow, America.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Who Got In The Catnip?

Hey...Who's in my chair?

 
 
 
 



You must play with me Mom!  Then you can sit and relax...

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Burn and SUPRISE!

SM went out last night at twilight to burn the brush pile.



No wind and the smoke went straight up so we didn't annoy any of our neighbors.  (Always a good thing.)




"Anything in the garden you want to burn?"  SM hollars at me.  "How about I burn that grass."  He asks, pointing at the Bermuda growing in the garden beds.

"Like a controlled burn?"  I asked, thinking.  "No.  Too risky.  It's too dry.  The mulch might catch fire."  (We haven't had any rain to speak of in a month or so.  The leaves are so dry and it's dusty enough that I get congested if I spend anytime outside right now.)

That burn pile went up within minutes, the flames so hot and high that SM had to retreat to the garden where he poked around for a few minutes.

"Look what I found!" 



"Sugar sweet too."  He offered me some. 

Boy, were they ever! 

It's funny, considering that this years garden was less than stellar, eating those strawberries has got me all excited about planning for next year.

Funny how the garden of my dreams is always better than my garden in reality!

Friday, November 2, 2012

Quick Change Artist

I woke up last night shivering.  Bone chillingly cold. 

"I must've had a flash and tossed all the covers off again."  I thought to myself.

So I grab up what covers I can (SM is huddled under a wad of them) and try to warm up.  Gradually, I hit that happy spot of "warm" and start to drift back off to sleep.

But just when I'm about to go deep I feel that feeling.  You know the one.  I've gone past warm.

"Flame ON!"

Suddenly I fling the covers off and sit up, grab my T-shirt and lift it over my head, panting.

This is the new norm lately at my house.  First I'm too hot, then I'm too cold.

Now that it's colder out, I will say that my hot flashes resolve alot faster than in the Summer months but...Geez.  Now I'm shivering.  Blankets, jackets, socks...I've got them all piled on top of me.

SM has noticed too.  Generally speaking he runs a few degrees warmer than I do so even in Winter it's not uncommon to see him roaming around in T-shirt and shorts complaining about how cold the house is. 

"Put some clothes on!"  I used to tell him.  Funny how things change.  Now I'm the one who's the quick change artist. 

SM was laughing at me the other day.

"Just a minute ago you went walking by in a T-shirt and shorts.  Thirty seconds later, you're in long pants and a sweatshirt."  He observed.  "I've never seen anybody change clothes so fast."

"Stick around.  I'm sure in a few more minutes I'll have a completely different outfit on.  As in naked!"  I responded. 

"Maybe that's why all the old ladies wore shawls."  SM pointed out.  "They could flip them up and down without anybody noticing."

""Makes sense to me!"  (Do they even make shawls anymore?)  "I don't remember anybody talking about this, do you?  I mean you'd always see all the old ladies hanging out together.  I always assumed they were complaining about all the old men.  Maybe "The Hen Party" was everyone comparing notes about menopause."



"Maybe.  But I'm sure there was more than just a little complaining about the old men too."  SM says.

Good point.  We can't help ourselves, can we?