with hummingbirds. Isn’t that wonderful news? Earlier in the summer I became privy to this information from reading on the little beauties. It seems the dirty windows detract from them plowing into what they perceive as more fly space. One day I was at the computer and this ‘thwump’ (my new word) made me turn to see a hummingbird on the deck floor. It was so still I thought it had flown in spirit to the great beyond.  I was afraid to open the door in fear of giving it a heart attack if it wasn’t dead, so I simply bent down close to the door to see if I could determine its status. It lay motionless except for its tiny wings barely fluttering as if it were in neutral gear. I started crying, continuing to watch it a few more minutes. I then decided to turn back to the computer remembering a watched pot never boils. Sure enough a few seconds passed and just as I turned to glance, it rose in flight, my heart soaring along with it in happiness. In less than a week another mishap, only this time there was a flymate and it hovered guardedly over the stunned bird a few seconds before flying off. This bird didn’t take as hard a hit due to the playing and was up in flight faster than the first one.

My nerves were shot, so I researched and found the dirty windows information. It’s a win win situation. I don’t have to clean the patio doors and the birds are safer for it.  I love those birds.

Iron Skillets…

August 22, 2012

are a Southern MUST. At least where I’m from. Today I attempted to look at something on Yahoo concerning it and the video didn’t want to come up, so I axed the thing. It did, however, bring up lots of food for thought. Like how I’ve never lived in a household that didn’t have one. How that there is nothing to compare with it  in terms of Southern fried chicken (I make no claims on what section of the country the bird comes from) and fried potatoes.  Yes my dears, you have not lived until you’ve tasted cooking from a cast iron skillet. I remember how my mother would wash porkchops, then perfume them with salt and pepper. Next came the thick coating of flour with the excess shaken away. Then and only then were they ready to take their baptism in the hot bacon grease of goodness. It makes me nostalgic thinking of all the times I’ve smelled the love in those foods that my mother cooked. It has been years since my household has used a nonstick pan. In my younger years I had the enamel cookware, teflon coated stuff, and even a set of copper that I dearly loved. But, more and more it was whittled down to the good old fashioned iron skillets. I have four ranging from baby to large (one round, one square). One of my children inherited one of my other round ones. Overall, they really are easy to cook in and clean. Just be sure and season them correctly. I cook everything in them including spaghetti sauce (okay, from a jar…). The secret for me is to cook meats S L O W. And keep turning them. It takes longer, but I’m serious about it being delicious. Plus, you get the iron that seeps out into the food. Stainless steel saucepans and a small very old aluminum saucepan are a part of my cooking too, but for meats on the stove top, it’s handsdown cast iron. The other thing that I’l throw out here to complete this bias, is that I love gas for the stove. Something about the control you have cannot be matched with an electric range. I’ve had both and gas is the best from my point of view. It gives an even cooking temperature from my experience. Now, the only thing better is the smell of bacon frying in the open air in that same skillet along with fresh coffee while you are out in the campgrounds. Enjoy!

 P.S. If you need tips on cooking in an iron skillet, I’ll be happy to tell you what I know about them from my own experiences.

Westclox…

August 21, 2012

Big Ben windup clock. Ring a bell? It’s the kind I remember from childhood and awhile back I purchased one for the house. On the top shelf of the computer table in the den, it gives a soft tick- tick -tick through the air as we listen to music, read, talk, or simply gaze out the patio doors. A reminder that time marches on without the harshness of  L E D  numbers.     Time is in small increments. You don’t notice it unless it is meal time, or you are in pain, waiting for a loved one, expecting news, or a million other things that can make you focus on it. Most of us simply set the alarm, get up, do the day’s business and repeat.   That is, until one day we look up and lo and behold it has gotten away from us. Who told it to jump 15 years down the road? Why, it was only yesterday that…  . Yes, it happens just like that. Big Ben is like a gentle soul who saunters a bit and I welcome that type of attitude these days. Thanks Westclox, for this fine fellow.  He is a keeper.

A Still Day…

August 16, 2012

in the summer heat. The hummingbirds continue to drink from their little oasis on the back and side decks. No wind, with cloudy skies and 82 degree weather. Not bad for this region.  The dog lays stretched out between me and the recliner in her literal dog day of summer-minus the temperature. Hearing the soft lullaby hum of the floor fan is enough to make one drift off  into a easy nap. In the evenings the katydids have formed their annual music company  giving free nightly performances for at least another six weeks. Looking out the patio doors, the summer sights and sounds are so peaceful. Nature’s built in stress reliever. Update: As I am typing this post a bird got into the house and I had to stop and open the back patio doors to coax it out!  The kitchen door was open with one of the screens that have the magnets (think seen on tv) and my guess is that it  flew through the screen.  Scratch the lazy summer day…

on a daily basis are objective and reality. Definitions found at http.//www.dictionary.reference.com/browse/objective  (same for reality) respectively. For this post, #’s 5, 6, and 8 are used for objective and #’s 1 and 4 , plus Medical Dictionary  for reality. For convienence the definitions are as follows:

Objective: 5. Not influenced by personal feelings, interpretations, or prejudice; based on facts; unbiased. An objective opinion. 6. Intent upon or dealing with things external to the mind rather than with thoughts or feelings, as a person or a book. 8. Of or pertaining to something that can be known, or to something that is an object or a part of an object; existing independent  of thought or an observer as part of reality. Note: the word independent is underlined  in  the  online definition, but my underline was not available, so I bolded / italicized instead. Reality: 1. The state of things as they are or appear to be, rather than as one might wish them to be. 4. philosophy a. That which exists, independent of human awareness. b. Something that exists independently of all other things and from which all other things derive. Medical Dictionary(same page, American Heritage). The quality or state of being actual or true. The totality of all things possessing actuality, existence, or essence.That which exists objectively and in fact.

When placed together the term is Objective Reality. It is all but outlawed in this era. There are signs that it still has a little life, but unless it can take in great gulps of air and build its strength back, it will collapse like a diseased set of lungs. The strength of the media has weakened the people. When people see something with their own eyes and hear it with their own ears it still does not register with them that it is real. Unless it fits. Objective reality has no filters. It simply observes and acts accordingly. If I run bathwater and step into it, the hotness will send me back onto the bathrug in mere seconds. This is objective reality. If someone tells me, oh, you are just too sensitive, I reject this with a clear mind, knowing  my body knew best for that fraction of a second it felt the too hot water.  It was a real fact  and no amount of trying to shame me and tell me I’m too sensitive is going to get me back into the water until it has cooled.

 When I was a child, I would stand and pour a small amount of Coca Cola into the ground and imagine how great it would be if it grew into a tree. My imagination could see the  branches hanging, with little coke bottles waiting for me to come and pick them. It was a longshot. Even then I knew it to be impossible, yet daily there are those who know in their heart of hearts that the things that are, will never ever be, even though it looks like it is.  Did that make sense? It  will, if you have any  shred of objective reality. Breathe deep.

Oh Mr. Webster, Do You…

August 14, 2012

“Noah” what they’ve done? The annual update of the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary has officially recognized a term best left to the indiscretion (yes, indiscretion) of the user. F-bomb. Guess some people will think it’s a spinoff of D-Day. No worries, it’ll be cleared up as fast as they can type six little hits on the keyboard or if they are feeling nostalgic, grab a printed version of the publication. It is there in all its might. Spelled out. The online version was the way I went and the only bright spot in the whole matter is that most of the comments I saw were  on the negative for having done this. Yes, Mr. Noah Webster, you spent most of your life building an American language. If you were here today, I’d ask you, do you think it was worth it?  I’m betting that you would say yes. And that in itself gives me hope. Hope that people will begin to go opposite in every sense of the word.  No pun intended.

The still life of dishwaterblog-sans water

 

in sixteen days. Years ago birthdays meant presents and fun. They snuck up on you and yelled,  ‘Surprise!’ like some secret party that you were already aware of and yet had to pretend to be caught off guard.

Now they come often, with a matter-of-fact approach. Whispering every quarter, ‘Gosh, only x more months and you’ll be that age.’

I listen. 

My ducks aren’t all in a row on anything. Some are missing, misplaced and generally not at attention. These days writing is therapeutic.

Many years have passed. Some things are resolved I think, others are not so clear. Mostly it is learning to accept my lot in life.

I live a life that is day to day. In truth, I have no idea who I am. Roles are played that the day calls for. It is the only way I know. Shakespeare said something of the sort. My script was written for a set number of acts and then my portion of the play will be finished. Times of happiness, as well as sorrow and sadness. All in a play. All in a life.