tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70261604317505134262024-03-06T01:23:25.251-05:00Nastase Nuttiness (natural and organic)A humor blog--to give you a smile on WednesdaysNastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-86437780851598404662017-07-05T14:26:00.002-04:002017-07-06T12:28:40.386-04:00Tadpole Troubles<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]--><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm <i>so</i> nice. (I thought.)<br /><br />My Facebook post bragged: <i>I just saved over 400 tadpoles from
death by shop vac. I deserve a cookie. </i><i><br /></i></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Earlier that day, I'd badgered Jay into cleaning out the
little pond in our front yard flowerbed. It was filled with algae, rotting
leaves, and pollen. But I refused to let him use the shop vac to suck out the water because I passionately believed the numerous resident tadpoles should survive. (Anything that grows up to eat mosquitoes is highly valued in my life.)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Which means my longsuffering husband (who couldn't care less about tadpoles) had to dutifully scoop out about forty 5-gallon buckets full of water and strain them through a fine mesh net so I could find the little guys in the
midst of the pond debris. Then I gently lifted up each one with my fingernail and dumped it into a
bucket of clean water. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I tried to count them but lost track around 400. It took us quite a while, but I was immensely pleased with myself when we returned the wee tadpoles to their newly cleaned home.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBY56v68VJu-YihTPNyj68zUSCotdZ8wlKOFwwC0K02Ae6dlTBxwGPU8SvvfSOkZ3uudh21pdsEKneQEI5_VM-dmA29f_bw1QdQnVA6yuB6oc_xU45s7KgSgDZl_y-zL_5Q6AjTW7T8EQ/s1600/Single+Tadpole.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBY56v68VJu-YihTPNyj68zUSCotdZ8wlKOFwwC0K02Ae6dlTBxwGPU8SvvfSOkZ3uudh21pdsEKneQEI5_VM-dmA29f_bw1QdQnVA6yuB6oc_xU45s7KgSgDZl_y-zL_5Q6AjTW7T8EQ/s640/Single+Tadpole.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I will name him Thaddeus Tadpole and he will live for years because I am <i>so </i>nice.</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The next night, I recounted my tadpole rescue to a friend.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She: You're <i>so</i> nice!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me (with false modesty): It was no big deal. Just saving the environment one tadpole at a time.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She: So, what do tadpoles eat?</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me: I'm not sure. Let me look it up... Hmm. It says here
that they eat algae and rotting foliage. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">(pause)</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me: I JUST DESTROYED ALL THEIR FOOD! THEY
WILL DIE!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She (laughing): Good job.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me (frantically Googling): They can also eat tadpole food.
This person says Walmart carries it.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">She: The closest one closes at midnight, and it's 11:30.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me (turning to Jay): WE HAVE A HALF AN HOUR TO SAVE THE TADPOLES! HURRY!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With a heavy sigh, Jay picked up his keys and walked outside.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'd already changed for bed into pajama pants and one of Jay's old
shirts, so I stayed in the car while he went into the store, looking gorgeous and stylish
in his skinny jeans and nice button-down. I don't know if he wanted revenge
(since he told me not to clean the pond in the first place) or what, but he came
back claiming he couldn't find fish food.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me (protesting): But I'm in pajama pants!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Jay (shrugging): The store is closing in minutes.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Me (with a deep breath): I can do this. It's for the
tadpoles...<br /></span></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtx42ZGP__8VdHy_OyUKriEJBWTwUwz8dD-fQuWlhAsijxboM94EwPGrg1qRaq86AQQfQUs3XWzP7sUjopu2vMgl0X6oGTX4U1tFxcoeTCeDHDY7zJ4Sp0z4Sbtshn8CthjUeP1IIx54Q/s1600/IMG_1613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtx42ZGP__8VdHy_OyUKriEJBWTwUwz8dD-fQuWlhAsijxboM94EwPGrg1qRaq86AQQfQUs3XWzP7sUjopu2vMgl0X6oGTX4U1tFxcoeTCeDHDY7zJ4Sp0z4Sbtshn8CthjUeP1IIx54Q/s640/IMG_1613.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fetching midnight shopping attire</span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You know those memes of questionably dressed people shopping in Walmart that you see on-line? Yeah, apparently, they don't live here. I definitely stood out. </span></span></span>Even the security guards raised their eyebrows when they saw me. They probably thought I was sleepwalking and Jay, trailing behind, was
monitoring me for my safety. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As soon as we got home, I threw the life-saving sustenance into the water so our tadpoles could have a midnight snack. </span></span></span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSSpq3hR8fsqNzIme9PK_3wjL4Lu9v2bxTDamaINZYBOCVol8Qk4NqhCbgu-ykn7lR-0wNjqKUyKc0x_MRz_mYF18EibHpliQAE8JLlNobOkwBzHmZh11Yiv33ww6AK5yAlsj2sDQnw4/s1600/Tadpole+food.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSSpq3hR8fsqNzIme9PK_3wjL4Lu9v2bxTDamaINZYBOCVol8Qk4NqhCbgu-ykn7lR-0wNjqKUyKc0x_MRz_mYF18EibHpliQAE8JLlNobOkwBzHmZh11Yiv33ww6AK5yAlsj2sDQnw4/s640/Tadpole+food.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Food falling from the sky!</span></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">But I still stayed awake all night worrying about whether or not I got food to
them in time. I crept out at the break of dawn to see if any of the amphibious
creatures still lived.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There was not a ripple in the water.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I sprinkled out more food.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Not a tail flicker.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Not a moving shadow.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">NOTHING!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'd killed them (sob).</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In hopeful desperation, I grabbed the net and trolled the bottom of the
pond to see if anything was down there.</span></span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8AQOREPscOTCVf-5vvIgsTBp3hHCec62WZEZSBAMreazabdvnUiV-hvVXgOpYJnaXk9lUKxBlOJFW-J30pUICwWmNCnxlEpCou60cDe6s1821X_7P_-WEp357lHW1Oe4nKHRXmoRVSY/s1600/Tadpole+clump.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1144" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_8AQOREPscOTCVf-5vvIgsTBp3hHCec62WZEZSBAMreazabdvnUiV-hvVXgOpYJnaXk9lUKxBlOJFW-J30pUICwWmNCnxlEpCou60cDe6s1821X_7P_-WEp357lHW1Oe4nKHRXmoRVSY/s640/Tadpole+clump.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thirty-two rudely awakened tadpoles</span></span></span></b></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And found loads of drowsy tadpoles.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">They lived! And were apparently so well fed before the pond
cleaning that they'd rather sleep in than eat.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Ingrates.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I feel I must be honest enough to add that I screamed,
"I went to Walmart at midnight in my pajama pants to get you food, so you
better wake up and eat it, you ungrateful creatures!"</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At that point, someone jogged by and saw me, still in my my
pajamas, yelling into a pond.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I smiled and waved, as if this were a normal thing.<br /><br />Well, it kind of is... in my world.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> (Proverbs 12:10) "The righteous care about the lives of their animals." </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>----------------------------------</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Follow up: My humiliation has resulted in adorable tiny frogs with tails:</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha565SJJdHgzb1K4VEOKZVQ1H_lGNowe0qz0H8wbMoxENq10WA-L4_-6kd7HBD95t0L4iULznPpLSnIQtrl8s_k4jusT-vqQGtwQVoe0cpnWWi-NmD1iJfalqAFJIYG_-sFtClzt-4C0Q/s1600/Tadpole+green+and+bull+frogs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1143" data-original-width="1600" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha565SJJdHgzb1K4VEOKZVQ1H_lGNowe0qz0H8wbMoxENq10WA-L4_-6kd7HBD95t0L4iULznPpLSnIQtrl8s_k4jusT-vqQGtwQVoe0cpnWWi-NmD1iJfalqAFJIYG_-sFtClzt-4C0Q/s640/Tadpole+green+and+bull+frogs.JPG" width="640" /> </a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To read about another of my overreactions in "caring about the lives of our animals," click<a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/daylight-nightlight.html" target="_blank"> here.</a></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To read about another embarrassing moment I endured when attempting to save a baby bunny, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/pranking-mommy.html" target="_blank">here. </a></span></b><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOgvexALek6Nh5tY394zKow102p21zJ511GSx0jlgCmiSRqAUi7qHCLQgniyBq_sfbGsbo6W30zZ_kO6Kdd9O0JFf4ya-bgJ3ya7KLI8HsMi1FRf7zrFRR4_S3u84Pz9Ci9K9OW6XLaMs/s1600/Tadpole+green+frog+CU.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-62042122670233767542015-09-16T01:30:00.000-04:002017-02-05T15:15:46.181-05:00Male "Logic"<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One time I asked a good friend from High School to exp<span style="font-family: inherit;">l<span style="font-family: inherit;">ain <span style="font-family: inherit;">the thought process behind something <span style="font-family: inherit;">guys</span> did. He<span style="font-family: inherit;"> informed me that male thinking was "only <span style="font-family: inherit;">normal un<span style="font-family: inherit;">to ourselves." </span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;">At t<span style="font-family: inherit;">he time I a<span style="font-family: inherit;">cc<span style="font-family: inherit;">epted <span style="font-family: inherit;">his <span style="font-family: inherit;">assessment</span></span></span></span>. </span></span>However, <span style="font-family: inherit;">after living with Jay for all these years, <span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm a bit worried that he's starting to make sense<span style="font-family: inherit;"> to me. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">One day I asked Jay why a pair of his socks were in the microwave. <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He said, "My feet were cold the other morning so I put my socks in the microwave for a few seconds to warm them up."<br /><br />"And why are they still in the microwave?"<br /><br />"I put on another pair of socks while I was waiting for these. But then my feet
warmed up, so I didn't need the socks in the microwave."<br /><br />"And why are they still in the microwave?" I repeated.<br /><br />"I just told you," he replied, patiently. "My feet were already warm."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I couldn't argue with that reasoning. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">---------------------</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br />I asked <span style="font-family: inherit;">Jay</span> to open the curtains. <br /><br />He said, "I did." <br /><br />"Then why is the room still dark?" <br /><br />He answered<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;">tolerantly</span>,</span> "That's what happens when you open curtains, honey<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span> And I opened th<span style="font-family: inherit;">em</span> as far as they'll go." </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Apparently, to him, "<span style="font-family: inherit;">O</span>pen the curtains" means to pull them together. Bec<span style="font-family: inherit;">ause then the <span style="font-family: inherit;">curtain panel its<span style="font-family: inherit;">elf </span>is <span style="font-family: inherit;">o<span style="font-family: inherit;">pen.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;">
</span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHBz9c-8wBboWtBhyphenhyphen6GeucX2BpQWA8s-iVIODQtWP-YDUXcoIzzRo4yCQgfq7DRE2vauaMhKvraVJyHpTF0FxpYDGW7uALlnO6Vyb54ha8Pg-eKigWQ-W_lBwUW2UPmoj_Ok7EX0mHyA/s1600/Open+curtains+TU+cropped.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHBz9c-8wBboWtBhyphenhyphen6GeucX2BpQWA8s-iVIODQtWP-YDUXcoIzzRo4yCQgfq7DRE2vauaMhKvraVJyHpTF0FxpYDGW7uALlnO6Vyb54ha8Pg-eKigWQ-W_lBwUW2UPmoj_Ok7EX0mHyA/s1600/Open+curtains+TU+cropped.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">To the uninformed, this is an "open" curtain</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">That <span style="font-family: inherit;">ex<span style="font-family: inherit;">pl<span style="font-family: inherit;">anation</span></span></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">managed to confuse</span> me (not an easy feat). I even <span style="font-family: inherit;">googled it to be sure<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">I wasn't crazy<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span> Sure eno<span style="font-family: inherit;">ugh, </span>the phrase "<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">o</span>pen the curtains" means to <span style="font-family: inherit;">expose the window<span style="font-family: inherit;">. <br /><br />B</span>ut I had to <span style="font-family: inherit;">admit that </span>there<span style="font-family: inherit;"> i</span>s <span style="font-family: inherit;">a</span> weir<span style="font-family: inherit;">d<span style="font-family: inherit;"> logic</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">to</span> the idea that the curtain itself should be spread o<span style="font-family: inherit;">ut</span> if one is told to "<span style="font-family: inherit;">Open the curtains<span style="font-family: inherit;">" ra<span style="font-family: inherit;">ther than "<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Smush up</span> the curtains to o</span>pen the view."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Now I just say, "<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">W</span>ould you please p</span>ush the curtains apart?" to avoid confusion. <span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">all</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">our minds</span>.<br /><br />---------------------</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Speaking of curtains<span style="font-family: inherit;">,<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Jay wante<span style="font-family: inherit;">d to know if there was anything special I needed him to <span style="font-family: inherit;">do while he was in the yard. I asked if he could dr<span style="font-family: inherit;">ape some netting over our two blueberry bushes to keep the birds from eating the <span style="font-family: inherit;">berries</span>. I <span style="font-family: inherit;">even wrote it on <span style="font-family: inherit;">the</span> To-Do list for him<span style="font-family: inherit;"> (he likes lists<span style="font-family: inherit;">.).</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Later, I went outside and <span style="font-family: inherit;">the blueber<span style="font-family: inherit;">ry bushes were bare. The two ro<span style="font-family: inherit;">ws of </span>blackberry bushes, however, had netting h<span style="font-family: inherit;">ung be<span style="font-family: inherit;">tween them </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">on</span> an old clo<span style="font-family: inherit;">thesline</span>. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was on the phone with a girlfriend<span style="font-family: inherit;"> at the time, so I</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">described what I saw. "I'<span style="font-family: inherit;">m looking at the To-Do list and i</span>t <span style="font-family: inherit;">clear<span style="font-family: inherit;">ly says to <i>drap</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>e </i>the netting. <span style="font-family: inherit;">S</span>o even if he got the wrong berry bushes,<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>why would he </span>su<span style="font-family: inherit;">spend the netting between them instead of draping them over the tops of the bushes? <span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm sure he had a reason<span style="font-family: inherit;">;</span> I just can't fi<span style="font-family: inherit;">gure out what it was.</span></span>"</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7RfH15SeqIS8qalOHfQ01uKcDPg-3-yU8zdCfrLDa4WwdbZUmK1qwEGNEBQOY6DvL4R43tjwLP2e09uqzu8xSI-_W0j82J00_k6kE-C5d-4HqycuJgRNHhCftudKZejxOYWtQ9S-aA8/s1600/IMG_4856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis7RfH15SeqIS8qalOHfQ01uKcDPg-3-yU8zdCfrLDa4WwdbZUmK1qwEGNEBQOY6DvL4R43tjwLP2e09uqzu8xSI-_W0j82J00_k6kE-C5d-4HqycuJgRNHhCftudKZejxOYWtQ9S-aA8/s1600/IMG_4856.JPG" width="640" /></a></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"He <i>did</i> drape the netting<span style="font-family: inherit;">,<span style="font-family: inherit;">" <span style="font-family: inherit;">she answered, "<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">used the clothes<span style="font-family: inherit;">pins like c<span style="font-family: inherit;">urtain rings and hu<span style="font-family: inherit;">ng</span></span> </span></span>it like a drape!" <br /> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2d.1:3:1:$comment10200917376531218_5071494:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A<span style="font-family: inherit;">lthough it wasn't quite what I had in mind, I <span style="font-family: inherit;">was comp<span style="font-family: inherit;">elled</span></span> to admit that <span style="font-family: inherit;">this literal<span style="font-family: inherit;"> execution</span></span> of my request actually made sense<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Proverbs 24:3) "A house is built by wisdom and becomes strong through understanding.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;">" It would be easier to understand men if they came with a communication app.<br /><b></b><br />Follow up: Jay claims he was merely stretching the netting and planned to put it on the blueberry bushes the next day. If he says so, then who am I to question it? I'm the woman who erroneously thinks an open drape allows for an unobstructed view!</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">For another story about male-female communication challenges, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/she-said-he-heard.html" target="_blank">here</a> for <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/she-said-he-heard.html" target="_blank"><i>She Said, He Heard. </i></a></span></b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-28436786058813000942015-09-02T02:00:00.000-04:002017-06-26T10:08:43.695-04:00Jay used to be a Moggy<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, I clicked on one of those silly Facebook things to
find out what they thought I would have looked like 100 years ago. This
was their estimation:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjISoDdHhGfazkrcV3eem23r4bKo4In9Z1TnGbsyCE71XMTE20yfCBUMpHn5-wroaW-bM7AlJHXuB4U96neDtkgnrrEa7lQQkNG0z5QIG7IkR70ut4llpT5HLHr9E10J8F50HvvGjxq9j4/s1600/100+years+ago+Jay+was+a+cat.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjISoDdHhGfazkrcV3eem23r4bKo4In9Z1TnGbsyCE71XMTE20yfCBUMpHn5-wroaW-bM7AlJHXuB4U96neDtkgnrrEa7lQQkNG0z5QIG7IkR70ut4llpT5HLHr9E10J8F50HvvGjxq9j4/s640/100+years+ago+Jay+was+a+cat.png" width="640" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I can't say I could rock those eyebrows, but I do like a curly bob, red lipstick, and polka dot dresses. <br /><br />I was a bit taken aback, however, that they turned Jay into a cat.<br /><br />I expected something like this next to me in the photo:<br /><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlruK2nIHR0Fw4UV1MWBLKMN5osrb3ckJwXHYR8SAIk2mZGRYuCFFvz2hJ1rnfa-qiVWzLhumS3P66qCErrIlrcvrAI0wWQ0PSXO3Rs_wjzhEnpyuncH_WakuxkoyBDcGCIRB1y0czGA/s1600/crookston-fd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlruK2nIHR0Fw4UV1MWBLKMN5osrb3ckJwXHYR8SAIk2mZGRYuCFFvz2hJ1rnfa-qiVWzLhumS3P66qCErrIlrcvrAI0wWQ0PSXO3Rs_wjzhEnpyuncH_WakuxkoyBDcGCIRB1y0czGA/s400/crookston-fd.jpg" width="266" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Crookston County Firefighter</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Photo credit: https://cabinetcardgallery.wordpress.com/category/policemen-and-firemen/</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Until I pondered the notion for a bit. And considered the
following points in defense of someone thinking that 100 years ago, Jay could have been a cat:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">1. Jay will self-groom, but he prefers someone else to be responsible for the tidiness of his living quarters.
<br /><br />2. He gets annoyed when I make a fuss about his clothes, shoes, or anything else he considers trivial.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">3. He has natural athleticism but won't overexert.<br /><br />4. He can fall
asleep just about anywhere and in any position.<br /><br />5. He has more energy at
night than in the morning. Sometimes I ask if he'll vacuum for me at 1 AM just to get him to wind down. (And he does--he's a sweet tom.)<br /><br />6. He likes to take a nap if he had to get up early.<br /><br />7. He won't discuss his moods but can get a bit offended if I don't notice when his mood has changed. <br /><br />8.
He brings me presents. And by "presents" I mean things he has hunted
down that he wants that I have no interest in. E.g. "Honey, I bought you
a weed trimmer!" Um, thanks? If I don't feign interest, he'll try to
bag something better--like a tree trimmer. <br /><br />9. He likes his head rubbed and back scratched.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">10. He's skilled at climbing. Which is why he's on a ladder truck at the fire department.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">11. He pretends he can't
hear me when I call him.<br /><br />12. He gets a glazed expression if I talk for too
long. Sometimes he even wanders off when I'm in mid-sentence. <br /><br />Yeah, a
cat sounds about right.<br /><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(2 Corinthians 5:17) "Anyone who is in Christ is a new creation. Old things have passed away, all things have become new!" </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">To compare Jay with our old cat, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/10/gift-gaff.html" target="_blank">here</a> or <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/04/my-native-american-name-is-mighty.html" target="_blank">here</a> for stories on how she "enriched" my life with her generous "gifts." </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">P.S. For those who don't know, a "moggy" is: a cat, especially one that does not have a pedigree. See, my blog <i>is </i>educational. You learned a new definition today. Now you can nap like a moggy and feel good about it.</span></span></span></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-39795601750744266392015-04-29T04:42:00.003-04:002015-09-02T14:01:36.869-04:00Conversation--Southern Style<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When I moved to the South, I was never quite sure if Southerners were gushing compliments or insults. Or both. Here's a typical overheard conversation at a ubiquitous backyard barbeque:<br /><br />Southern lady #1: Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but, bless her heart, I just don't know what she's thinkin' wearin' that top with those britches. She must be blind in one eye and can't see out of the other. (Loudly, while waving) That shirt is so <i>colorful</i>, Eula May. Where in the world did ya buy it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />Southern lady #2 (shaking her head sympathetically): I <i>know</i>. That shirt fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. But her shoes are just <i>darlin'</i>.<br /><br />Southern lady #1: Oh, my! Look at Sally Ann givin' corn bread to that squirrel. She's just <i>precious, </i>but doesn't have the sense God gave a billy goat. She'd do CPR on roadkill. (Loudly, while waving) Good to see you, Sally Ann! Aren't you just the <i>sweetest</i> thing feedin' that li'l ole squirrel?<br /><br />Southern lady #2: Oh, sugar! I just spilled my sweet tea. This table is all cattywampus. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Southern lady #1: It's as tipsy as a rat swimmin' in moonshine. Just like Billy Bob over there. (Loudly) How ya doin', Billy Bob? I haven't seen you in a coon's age. Ya look gooder than grits!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Billy Bob: You ladies are fine as frog hair!<br /><br />Southern lady #1: He's one sandwich short of a picnic, but he can roast a pork butt that'll make ya wanna slap your momma.<br /><br />Southern lady #2: (Craning her neck) I can't see the band. Is that Zeke and Willa's son singin'? I haven't seen him since he was knee high to a bullfrog.<br /><br />Southern lady #1: Ya call that singin'? You know I'm not one to criticize <i>any</i>body, but he sounds like he's up there callin' hogs. But he's a nice boy. Even if he does have his daddy's ears.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Southern lady #2: At least he doesn't have his momma's nose, bless his little pea-pickin' heart. I still can't see the band. <br /><br />Southern lady #1: I can't either. Lula Jean makes a better door than a window. (Loudly) Lula Jean, could ya move over a bit, darlin'? We can't see through you, sweetie pete.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Southern lady #2: Oh, good; she's gettin' up for more vittles. She's sure got a healthy appetite, bless her heart.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Southern lady #1: Not like Betty Lou. That girl'd blow over if someone sneezed. She's a dear, but she can't cook a lick. If a wolf came to her house, he'd have to pack a lunch.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Southern lady #2: Speakin' of food, did you taste this Shoofly Pie? Miss Mary Dean made it. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />Southern lady #1: Well, how wonderful of her to pitch in. (Generously) And it's almost good!<span style="font-size: large;"> (Loudly, while waving her fork) Mary Dean, you just <i>have</i> to give me this recipe. I've never tasted a pie quite like this in all my born days! </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Southern lady #2:</span> </span>You know I just <i>love </i>her to pieces, but her tryin' to bake is like a pig in a hen house tryin' to lay an egg. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />Southern lady #1 and #2 (in unison): Bless her heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> (Colossians 4:6) "Let</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text Col-4-6" id="en-NKJV-29549"> your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt." </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text Col-4-6"><br /></span></span></span>
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text Col-4-6">For more stories about my experiences in the Deep South, click on <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/06/preplanned-packing.html" target="_blank">Preplanned Packing</a>; <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/11/bald-peanuts.html" target="_blank">Bald Peanuts</a>; <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/03/ready-set-ready-again.html" target="_blank">Ready Set... Ready Again, Set Again</a>; <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/07/poke-lawn.html" target="_blank">The Mysterious 'Poke Lawn'</a>; <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/08/going-postal-southern-style.html" target="_blank">Going Postal (Southern Style)</a>; and <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/09/dasterdly-directions-southern-style.html" target="_blank">Dastardly Directions (Southern Style)</a>.</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text Col-4-6" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-15838449611844735662015-03-18T09:19:00.006-04:002015-04-25T06:26:23.396-04:00Men Can't Tell Time<span data-offset-key="8j4b8-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$8j4b8.0:$8j4b8-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$8j4b8.0:$8j4b8-0-0.0">Jay tried to tell me that when a woman says, "I'll be ready in five minutes" that she really means a half an hour. I informed him that my time is estimated according to his leadership. He thought I was kidding until I reminded him of this conversation early in our marriage:<br /><br />He: I'm going to Home Depot. I'll be back in half an hour.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="6clac-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$6clac.0:$6clac-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$6clac.0:$6clac-0-0.0">Me (with faint skepticism): Did you just say a half an hour?<br /><br />He (grabbing his keys): Yep.<br /><br />Me (innocently): I'm new to the area, so I keep forgetting, how long does it take to get there?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span data-offset-key="6clac-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$6clac.0:$6clac-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$6clac.0:$6clac-0-0.0">He (a little distracted, looking for his wallet): About 20 minutes.</span></span><br />
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="9srm0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9srm0">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="9srm0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9srm0.0:$9srm0-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9srm0.0:$9srm0-0-0.0">Me: And how long does it take to get home?</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="2bhjq-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$2bhjq">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="2bhjq-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$2bhjq.0:$2bhjq-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$2bhjq.0:$2bhjq-0-0.0">He (pausing to look at me as if I'm a little slow): Like I said, about 20 minutes.</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="f4nom-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$f4nom">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="f4nom-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$f4nom.0:$f4nom-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$f4nom.0:$f4nom-0-0.0">Me (raising an eyebrow): OK,
then by my math, the soonest you could possibly get back is 40 minutes. <br /><br />He: Fine. I'll be back in 40 minutes.<br /><br />Me (sounding a bit confused): So, you don't plan to get out of the car? I'm sure you have your reasons, but I don't understand why you'd go all that way just to gaze at the store as you drive past it through the parking lot on your way home.</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="9m6rg-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9m6rg">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="9m6rg-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9m6rg.0:$9m6rg-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$9m6rg.0:$9m6rg-0-0.0">He (rolling his eyes): Okay, okay. I'll be about 45 minutes.</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="d5uui-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$d5uui">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="d5uui-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$d5uui.0:$d5uui-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$d5uui.0:$d5uui-0-0.0">Me: Well, that takes care of walking to and from the store. Weren't you planning to buy anything? Or are you just going poke your head in the door, wave at the salespeople, and sprint back to the car?</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="a0vri-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$a0vri">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="a0vri-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$a0vri.0:$a0vri-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$a0vri.0:$a0vri-0-0.0">He: Fine. Add another 5 minutes for shopping.</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="ee7t0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="ee7t0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0.0:$ee7t0-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0.0:$ee7t0-0-0.0">Me: Oh, pah-leeze! I've been to Home Depot with you. You'll be in there at least 45 minutes.</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="ee7t0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="ee7t0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0.0:$ee7t0-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0.0:$ee7t0-0-0.0">He (offended): I'm just going in to get some 3" nails. That will take me 5 minutes tops.<br /><br />Me (snickering): So, you're not going to stop <i>at all </i>to look at lawnmower attachments, power tools, </span></span><span data-offset-key="ee7t0-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0.0:$ee7t0-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$ee7t0.0:$ee7t0-0-0.0"><span data-offset-key="a0vri-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$a0vri.0:$a0vri-0-0"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$a0vri.0:$a0vri-0-0.0">culled wood, shop vacs, survival magazines, saw blades, sandpaper, handheld multi-tools...</span></span> </span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="170gh-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$170gh">
<br />
<span data-offset-key="170gh-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$170gh.0:$170gh-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$170gh.0:$170gh-0-0.0">He (reluctantly agreeing): Okay, I might get a <i>little </i>distracted if I see something on sale. Or if I get there and remember something else I need. Or if I see something I could use. <br /><br />Me: No kidding. And have you added time to get through the checkout line? Unless you're planning to
shoplift. Because if you are, let me know in advance so I can get some cash ready to pay your bail.<br /><br />He: Funny.</span></span></div>
<div class="_209g _2vxa" data-block="true" data-offset-key="3c90b-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b">
<span data-offset-key="3c90b-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0.0"><br />Me: Why don't we just say that you're going to Home Depot and you'll be back in about two hours?<br /><br />He (sheepishly): Maybe three. I think they have a new line of outdoor grills. </span></span><br />
<span data-offset-key="3c90b-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0.0"><br /></span></span><span data-offset-key="3c90b-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0.0"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> (Psalm 90:12) "Teach us to make the most of our time so that we may grow in wisdom."</span></span></span><br />
<span data-offset-key="3c90b-0-0" data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0" style="font-size: large;"><span data-reactid=".s3.1:4.0.$right.0.0.0.0.1.0.0.1.0.0.$3c90b.0:$3c90b-0-0.0"></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><b><span style="font-size: small;">For another "shoe on the other foot" story, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/shoe-drill.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></b></span></div>
Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-8888413159933624152015-03-11T00:04:00.001-04:002015-04-25T07:51:58.392-04:00You Can't Trust Men<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">...when they're in a hurry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jay was trying to quickly pack (perhaps he should have done his famous <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/06/preplanned-packing.html" target="_blank">"preplanning")</a> before leaving on a weekend trip. I'd cut a few layers into my long hair the night before, but I couldn't reach the back. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihWqZYLu74YYPFP6lk12u0B7uX3utzDxfEnX1yc0bkELZH6A1v5fqUtzj9LZwshu8XPTudNNu9HnV9WvIxfO7J_14WvxHAGMJFge_gb-sfwKbeqiovZ8VMKaEUUHXlA3ruChba6qBn7aw/s1600/2011-01+TU+Jay+and+Pamela+at+Batallion+Dinner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihWqZYLu74YYPFP6lk12u0B7uX3utzDxfEnX1yc0bkELZH6A1v5fqUtzj9LZwshu8XPTudNNu9HnV9WvIxfO7J_14WvxHAGMJFge_gb-sfwKbeqiovZ8VMKaEUUHXlA3ruChba6qBn7aw/s1600/2011-01+TU+Jay+and+Pamela+at+Batallion+Dinner.JPG" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My hair's normal length</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So although he was running late, I thought he could spare 30 seconds to trim the ends about an inch. He's done it before. In fact, he has trimmed the back of my hair every few months since we got married. It's not difficult. One little cut, straight across. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">But he was in a hurry. He grabbed the scissors, I heard a snip, and off dropped about two inches of cut hair. Startled, I remarked, "That looks like more than an inch." But the deed was already done, so I wasn't going to make a big deal about it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcQDXlNLcXlauUgs7gW7DcmTLs7QiDlK5wGJl2nQtazbRQF3l_14nNNBHjWdXKRERpGPo0saQ8YZ9ZNFHJiL5X5tRNiMp1VoOuLe3LYUA0XxSgcoPCr9nX0uyqLYwiblWujPYbJ3Fn5s/s1600/IMG_4490.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPcQDXlNLcXlauUgs7gW7DcmTLs7QiDlK5wGJl2nQtazbRQF3l_14nNNBHjWdXKRERpGPo0saQ8YZ9ZNFHJiL5X5tRNiMp1VoOuLe3LYUA0XxSgcoPCr9nX0uyqLYwiblWujPYbJ3Fn5s/s1600/IMG_4490.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then he said, "Wait--it's not quite even," and cut again. I assumed he was just trimming a few straggly hairs, but in his hand he held about three more inches of my severed locks.<br /><br />I gasped, "What are you doing? You just cut like five inches off!"<br /><br />He looked at the pile of hair and said, "I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I just was trying to get it straight."<br /><br />His eyes widened as he absorbed the extent of the damage. He hid the scissors, </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">which was a smart move since he'd just cut off <i>five inches</i> of his wife's hair.</span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I looked in the mirror in shock. My curls, suddenly freed from the weight for the first time since I was in Junior High, poofed out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadRKOjHo5dVGpRhx0ipVqtmSHepqL-sAFh4QQWr2g846w_ZdFPBWUQ1UEuqr3PU3-BElUL_ChzjTr9wz3UTpK4hztZ5V-4a3McB8xrMPV9Z-zuZ-H5z7o3fl7udew-hL-6yPMA6kkDNU/s1600/joey-dauria-bozo-marching-staff-300x225.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadRKOjHo5dVGpRhx0ipVqtmSHepqL-sAFh4QQWr2g846w_ZdFPBWUQ1UEuqr3PU3-BElUL_ChzjTr9wz3UTpK4hztZ5V-4a3McB8xrMPV9Z-zuZ-H5z7o3fl7udew-hL-6yPMA6kkDNU/s1600/joey-dauria-bozo-marching-staff-300x225.jpg" height="299" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I resembled Bozo, the legendary clown. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQSxNddce2tW0JZJRmCD-eW-QMVK0xJXfVAJ86dRafHyBdNHUFZnFJuZ4JFNSWCefZupXlofHQa-UqpQa6-HRtaEMCIXJDF8oj6RsBzSqZpRX3EJlTx5ytLL1Lu3cDTYSQ2xdudafXYg/s1600/Pozo+photo+1+flipped+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQSxNddce2tW0JZJRmCD-eW-QMVK0xJXfVAJ86dRafHyBdNHUFZnFJuZ4JFNSWCefZupXlofHQa-UqpQa6-HRtaEMCIXJDF8oj6RsBzSqZpRX3EJlTx5ytLL1Lu3cDTYSQ2xdudafXYg/s1600/Pozo+photo+1+flipped+(2).jpg" height="318" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Just call me Bozela</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At that point, Jay said, "I'm so sorry! Um, I need to leave," grabbed his luggage, and bolted. W</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">hich was another smart move since he'd just cut off <i>five inches</i> of his wife's hair.</span></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tried straightening my hair, but it kept curling under. I looked like the late Joan Rivers. Brunette version.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeY6G_CyuE5moWUxJhZWZpNw0bljcJJxxNFsxEEc3TTonkAZbo3-otpmd03BwB0ma4PSaufs56GSC5OiiaP6lk5z_eGqjEOwElEHShEFAiue5Cwpg5ctqxmotz4NC3XVmVkfJ2jpw-13U/s1600/Joan+Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeY6G_CyuE5moWUxJhZWZpNw0bljcJJxxNFsxEEc3TTonkAZbo3-otpmd03BwB0ma4PSaufs56GSC5OiiaP6lk5z_eGqjEOwElEHShEFAiue5Cwpg5ctqxmotz4NC3XVmVkfJ2jpw-13U/s1600/Joan+Final.jpg" height="320" width="255" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcwVeKhDcjqvYGMGZ9ca5LkJqX9lzi5aelJnmuP0jaKIb7w-_5oOvO92JMsBQSiV6wmD0PiJUd9WM0xfkaV-nlCNo6KfOvrbKFqj6rhGExKgaEPsh7dXjPvjNn6EGQvRRAbe7TrzX2cM/s1600/Bobbed+hair+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcwVeKhDcjqvYGMGZ9ca5LkJqX9lzi5aelJnmuP0jaKIb7w-_5oOvO92JMsBQSiV6wmD0PiJUd9WM0xfkaV-nlCNo6KfOvrbKFqj6rhGExKgaEPsh7dXjPvjNn6EGQvRRAbe7TrzX2cM/s1600/Bobbed+hair+3.jpg" height="320" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo of Joan from PopSugar.com </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I called my mother for consolation. She soothed me with, "You always look beautiful, honey. I'm sure you're cute with short hair."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, I sent her a photo.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />She called back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"What did he do to you?" she gasped. "It's awful!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I emailed the photo to a friend. She responded, "It's not bad. But it makes you look older." Great. Facebook already thinks I'm over 50 and looking for "older men" (for that story, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/11/who-does-facebook-think-you-are.html" target="_blank">here</a>.).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I tried pulling my hair back to see if it made me look younger, but then I looked like Becky Conner from <i>Roseanne </i>reruns.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc48LTq8X_PBFuoNmCh6MopxhKYG9WrsYRt_BW2zgiJ-T2B_g1ggqwk35Flc2ZA_DX_6dftpeV7nl9gIIpatu82kmRowXbcK8A62VTYc5c6cHgP2qZHX_siXpSZAyl9qbioAhxNUDn7yk/s1600/Bobbed+Becky+hair+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc48LTq8X_PBFuoNmCh6MopxhKYG9WrsYRt_BW2zgiJ-T2B_g1ggqwk35Flc2ZA_DX_6dftpeV7nl9gIIpatu82kmRowXbcK8A62VTYc5c6cHgP2qZHX_siXpSZAyl9qbioAhxNUDn7yk/s1600/Bobbed+Becky+hair+1.jpg" height="320" width="255" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Ron Galella/WireImage</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HE3xfXnl1iqrkyf1M4cJB7ckPhjcrBlazMe8X8gRVpCQn1navIffh2PU-D4ybQXyNFTA6olibSZfg_y8NMMwiLxNYgXKBbdhUL6mVp-tLBmWUcl3fAuRpna2nAW5-jv2iApb_GmJNQ4/s1600/Bobbed+Becky+hair+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4HE3xfXnl1iqrkyf1M4cJB7ckPhjcrBlazMe8X8gRVpCQn1navIffh2PU-D4ybQXyNFTA6olibSZfg_y8NMMwiLxNYgXKBbdhUL6mVp-tLBmWUcl3fAuRpna2nAW5-jv2iApb_GmJNQ4/s1600/Bobbed+Becky+hair+2.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Photo by Nastase Nuttiness</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next day I washed my hair and let it air dry after gobbing on gel to tame my unruly, clown curls. The styling product helped quite a bit. But I still had a triangle-head hairdo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It gave me flashbacks to the 1980s. (I know you think I was a mere infant in the 1980s, but let's just say that I was old enough to walk and leave it there.) I totally had an overwhelming urge to throw on jellies and totally run to the mall for an Orange Julius. Like in a ripped sweatshirt, acid washed jeans, and totally rad legwarmers. Totally. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For some reason, I just wanted to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eH3giaIzONA" target="_blank">Dance With Somebody</a> (with somebody who loves me. Oh, yeah. Uh huh. Woo!). I wondered if <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cv6tuzHUuuk" target="_blank">Walk(ing) Like an Egyptian</a> would help my pyramid hair make more sense. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutkcxUqKQqOv13GIAzv8sPGP6A94cfeD1cwkioBK77wYHp9Zv9Nj80RmpOUKas_KL2nGcSV20dE8op5jp6-aPyMWe1iulwrwwScAU7ILDyXnFTw2HFpynMBDcBaIjG7uAw20gtEl-80k/s1600/80s+hair+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutkcxUqKQqOv13GIAzv8sPGP6A94cfeD1cwkioBK77wYHp9Zv9Nj80RmpOUKas_KL2nGcSV20dE8op5jp6-aPyMWe1iulwrwwScAU7ILDyXnFTw2HFpynMBDcBaIjG7uAw20gtEl-80k/s1600/80s+hair+2.JPG" height="320" width="298" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't often look at myself, so I kept forgetting that half my hair was missing. Every time I walked past a mirror, I shrieked thinking there was an intruder in the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Jay called several times during his trip to apologize to me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I told him that it was just hair. <br /><br />And it would grow back. <br /><br />And I love him more than my brownie-locks.<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He was thankful since he knows that most women would be furious if their husbands butchered their tresses.<br /><br />Yet I'm an example to all of a heart of forgiveness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And godly mercy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And grace. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I also plan to give him a Mohawk while he's sleeping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><i>Verse of the day: </i>(Judges 16:19) "</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Delilah
lulled Samson to sleep with his head in her lap, and then she called in
a man to shave off the seven locks of his hair. In this way she began
to bring him down, and his strength left him."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> On a second thought, I need Jay to do heavy lifting and yard maintenance, so I may leave his hair unshaved. This time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><i>Bonus verse of the day contributed by Jay:</i> (2 Samuel 18:9) "He tried to escape on his mule, but as he rode beneath the thick branches of a great tree, his hair got caught in the tree. His mule kept going and left him dangling in the air."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> At least I made sure that if Pamela is ever escaping through a forest on a mule, long hair won't slow her down. Knowing her, something like that could actually happen. #SilverLining</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">To read why I thought better about asking Jay, "What did I ever do to you?" click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/01/our-trip-was-bomb.html" target="_blank">here</a> for "<a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/01/our-trip-was-bomb.html" target="_blank">Our Trip was the Bomb</a>." </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">To read another story to prove I can't depend on Jay listening to me, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/she-said-he-heard.html" target="_blank">here</a> for "<a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/she-said-he-heard.html" target="_blank">She Said, He Heard.</a>"</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">To read about Jay's bizarre concept of "preplanning," click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/06/preplanned-packing.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><br />To read why Facebook thinks I'm over 50 and balding, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/11/who-does-facebook-think-you-are.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Followup: </i>It was six days before I found the scissors. My hair-genius friend Amy made a house call and modernized the style of my unintentional bob, so Jay felt safe enough to return home. This time.</span></div>
Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-70821919925862415142015-03-04T05:31:00.000-05:002015-10-14T06:37:56.609-04:00Post from Jay--Mount Vesuvius (with Kefir Recipe)<i><span style="font-size: large;">Pamela is still on her blogcation while she's getting hyperbaric oxygen treatment, so I'm filling in for her. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">The other night I was comfortably lying in bed when Pamela called from the kitchen, "Um, honey. I might need a <i>teeny </i>bit of help in here."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">She hadn't screamed and I didn't hear anything crash, but I know her "I was just an innocent bystander when..." tone of voice well enough to get there quickly.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pamela makes her own water kefir (a fizzy drink made from fermenting kefir grains). Feeling the need for a shot of probiotics before bed, she went into the kitchen to get some, even though she suspected that had she let the most recent batch ferment for a day or two too long. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When Pamela uncorked the bottle, the kefir shot up like Mount Vesuvius. The entire contents hit the ceiling and rained down. She stood, holding the empty bottle, with caramel-colored kefir dripping off her face and hair, and casually explained her reason for calling me: "I can't reach the ceiling, and you won't let me climb on the counters."</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I grabbed some towels to sop up the sticky mess muttering, "Well, this is a blog post."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She brightened and said, "I'll get my camera!" </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'm kidding!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">She wiped up the floor and counter, but most of the spewed liquid was out of her reach, so she helpfully followed me around cheerfully pointing out things like, "Look! Some even got on top of the refrigerator!" and "Hey, it's even dripping down the inside of the cupboard doors!" until I shooed her away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When I finally finished cleaning, I suggested she put a Post-It note on each new batch of water kefir with the date on it. She looked at me, puzzled, and said, "Why would I do that? I <i>like</i> it fizzy." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> "What are you waiting for? Get up and be baptized. Have your sins washed away by calling on the name of the Lord" (Acts 22:16). </span>By the way, the Bible recommends baptism in water, not in a kefir geyser. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Note from Pamela: On the plus side, our kitchen ceiling hasn't been this clean and sparkly in years! </span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">To read why Jay flatly refuses to let Pamela climb on the counters, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">here</a>. (This is the blog's most-read post, so we know we're not the only ones who can relate.)<br /><br />To read about how Pamela started fermenting, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/10/fermented-fraken-shrooms.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Pamela<span style="font-family: inherit;">'s directions <span style="font-family: inherit;">on</span> h</span>ow to make water kefi<span style="font-family: inherit;">r</span>:</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><br />1. Obtain water kefir grains (they're different from milk kefir grains.). You can get them from a friend (like me) or <a href="http://www.culturesforhealth.com/catalogsearch/result/?q=water+kefir" target="_blank">order them here</a>. If you order them, you'll have to rehydrate them for a few days. Use plastic--don't let your grains touch metal. Put your grains aside.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />2. Dissolve an equal amount of sugar (preferably <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rapunzel-Organic-Whole-Sugar-Ounce/dp/B0046HEPRM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425471295&sr=8-1&keywords=sugar+rapadura" target="_blank">organic cane sugar</a> or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Wholesome-Sweeteners-Organic-Sucanat-crystals/dp/B005P0JP56/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425465245&sr=8-1&keywords=sucanat" target="_blank">sucanant</a>, do not use honey) as you have kefir grains (1/4 cup of kefir to 1/4 cup of sugar) in a couple of cups of filtered water (tap water has chlorine that will damage your grains).</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYKye-ctiPQvd4Zva6-yMLnMTbC5c7l7au_Z9LljTYeRaDHfNxDXXU6GRi0LLXgvqXwuJx5rg56fT9N0Tr8kFtxMcuE6-paLwV1qzbsGqDhLL7sbzuitr4XqUqhrO1knYuVlcmQkuKdg/s1600/IMG_4530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYKye-ctiPQvd4Zva6-yMLnMTbC5c7l7au_Z9LljTYeRaDHfNxDXXU6GRi0LLXgvqXwuJx5rg56fT9N0Tr8kFtxMcuE6-paLwV1qzbsGqDhLL7sbzuitr4XqUqhrO1knYuVlcmQkuKdg/s1600/IMG_4530.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is sucanant, a raw sugar</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">We have well water, so we have happy kefir. It grows like dandelions in the spring. Well, a little differently, but I couldn't think of a good analogy. Multiplies like tiny, rubbery bunnies? If you don't have well water or are using distilled water, then add <a href="http://www.culturesforhealth.com/concentrace-trace-mineral-drops.html" target="_blank">liquid minerals</a>. You'll have healthier grains if you add them, and happy grains give you tons of probiotics.Which is why you're making kefir in the first place. Unless you're just trying to be hipster.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I
mix the sugar in a bit of hot water to speed up the dissolving process. When the sugar is dissolved, then I
add cold water (because you don't want to cook your little kefir
grains).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">3. Pour your sugar water into a glass jar. Add more water until you have about 4-6 cups of liquid (depending on how strong you want your kefir).<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">4. Make sure your water is cool (again, so you don't cook your kefir grains) and then add the kefir grains. <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">5. Cover the jar with a coffee filter and rubber band and let it sit in a dark, warmish (70-75 degrees) place (a pantry or cupboard is recommended. A shelf in your husband's closet is not recommended because he might accidentally knock it over. Not saying I know anything about that--just guessing.). </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU3gjAQTDPe6lsrp7C0bN6QEa4ZK-lZVOntyl_ILIFPOWh5EEJXN6S6gwojdXe6FS7Hmq39VSPea_ZjDohBxY2kc5k__Q9dg5c_OkqWanWYSjDq42tr7uSHT1vsGHPtOjUTRftXuG_9U/s1600/IMG_4538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU3gjAQTDPe6lsrp7C0bN6QEa4ZK-lZVOntyl_ILIFPOWh5EEJXN6S6gwojdXe6FS7Hmq39VSPea_ZjDohBxY2kc5k__Q9dg5c_OkqWanWYSjDq42tr7uSHT1vsGHPtOjUTRftXuG_9U/s1600/IMG_4538.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />My water is brownish because I used tan sugar. If you use white sugar (please use unbleached), then your water should look more clear (if it's not, then you need to call a plumber because something scary is growing in your water pipes.). <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6. After 3 days (no more or you'll starve your poor grains), strain out the kefir grains <i>with a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Culina-Nylon-Mesh-Strainer-Set/dp/B00FESIZPA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425466030&sr=8-1&keywords=plastic+strainer" target="_blank">non-metal strainer </a></i>(don't let your grains touch metal). Make sure your kefir juice is in a plastic or glass container (because you don't want to kill your pro-biotics). </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNO22tT83uc859bw139KJs7haOOk3toutVshyphenhyphenUURe69eIwg5RlcdGbeTUaV2LFmEtlkg-HwcE4ENZ4mmJgfcI2oTCkEhYzihobAjgUtiIkt-fjXm4P2yDWUwDN5-dIAdohkD_dbo8dEQ/s1600/IMG_4529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlNO22tT83uc859bw139KJs7haOOk3toutVshyphenhyphenUURe69eIwg5RlcdGbeTUaV2LFmEtlkg-HwcE4ENZ4mmJgfcI2oTCkEhYzihobAjgUtiIkt-fjXm4P2yDWUwDN5-dIAdohkD_dbo8dEQ/s1600/IMG_4529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />My grains are brownish from the brown sugar. Normally they're clearish. I think mine look better with a little tan. As do I. <br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">7. Rinse off your grains. Everyone needs a shower now and then.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbouYhBlt-SnR5DhO7Jmwb41nloqBXHXRVyS-5TB_8DR5guZ8GppOw21Paf1V-cfTE7Md7M7nF0R1CMTQj_EKL5aQEzaVyrvDiQq3-e-okfrIRmgNu2b5NkDqXuaYrHFYgje7EO7Xld1Y/s1600/IMG_4526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbouYhBlt-SnR5DhO7Jmwb41nloqBXHXRVyS-5TB_8DR5guZ8GppOw21Paf1V-cfTE7Md7M7nF0R1CMTQj_EKL5aQEzaVyrvDiQq3-e-okfrIRmgNu2b5NkDqXuaYrHFYgje7EO7Xld1Y/s1600/IMG_4526.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Remeasure the grains so you know how much sugar to use in your new batch. They should double in number each time you use them. If you have more than you want, put the extra grains in your compost pile where they will greatly benefit your soil.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />8. Make a new batch of sugar water. Add about 1/4 cup of your strained kefir juice to the new sugar water as a starter. Your probiotics will grow better in the new sugar water if they have some kefir juice to encourage them. Like new kids feel better if they have someone to play with who already knows their way around. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">9. Put your strained kefir juice in a glass or plastic jar with a plastic lid (you don't want a metal lid to accidentally touch your kefir juice and kill the probiotics.). You can drink the kefir juice just as it is. Start with a few tablespoons at first to see how your body reacts to it. It might clean out your innards a bit if you drink too much at first. I drink like a cup of it a day, but I need a lot of probiotics with my digestion issues.<br /><br />Or you can add some fruit juice to your kefir juice to make it tastier. I like it in equal parts. And I only like pear or apple juice. Pineapple, orange, and pomegranate juice tasted weird to me. So did coconut water. But you might like it. If you're weird. <br /><br />If you juice your own apples and pears, then strain the juice or you'll get bits of pulp floating around. That puts people off. On a plus side, you won't have to share your kefir juice. Just say, "What's that floating in the juice? Odd. Oh, well. Do you want to try some?" It works until they catch on that you're hoarding your kefir.<br /><br />10. If you want fizzy kefir, then put it in a <a href="http://www.culturesforhealth.com/grolsch-flip-top-bottle-750-ml.html" target="_blank">bottle with an air-tight lid</a>. I think the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/16oz-Cobalt-Bottles-Brewing-Growlers/dp/B0071S48NY/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1425473165&sr=8-3&keywords=blue+EZ+cap+bottle" target="_blank">blue ones</a> are prettiest. They come in 16 oz. or 32 oz. sizes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3fy054A-ormbCEbit3zbhp5qMalBJsXnXOLhO78zYNcBBgd9DzghdoyEjq6Ea7g7IYy78k-0S0hBz8BWxnnuNxVVs4cnlnWLOcz0fQ26WkN-vXGj5tqo9xeYUSrC5q7mhHsKUplz3Ys/s1600/Pamela+with+kefir+blue+bottle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3fy054A-ormbCEbit3zbhp5qMalBJsXnXOLhO78zYNcBBgd9DzghdoyEjq6Ea7g7IYy78k-0S0hBz8BWxnnuNxVVs4cnlnWLOcz0fQ26WkN-vXGj5tqo9xeYUSrC5q7mhHsKUplz3Ys/s1600/Pamela+with+kefir+blue+bottle.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Let it sit in a pantry or cupboard for another day or so. Sometimes it doesn't get fizzy if your cupboard isn't warm enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Warning! Don't let it sit in the cupboard for 4 days even if you think your house is really cold (unless it's <i>really</i> cold--our house was at 68 degrees) or it will erupt when you open it (see above story.). But that's kind of fun, so I advise you to try it at least once. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you need a break from making kefir, put your grains in a new jar of sugar water and put it in the refrigerator. The cold slows the fermentation process. Your grains will hibernate like bears in Yellowstone Park in the winter. Not that I've ever been to Yellowstone Park in the winter, but that's what I learned from watching Yogi Bear. He might sneak picnic baskets, but he'd never lie about hibernation.</span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-23934887615853682382015-02-18T03:18:00.003-05:002016-02-08T06:11:03.562-05:00Jay's Post--My Funny Felon Bride<span style="font-size: large;">Jay here. I'm filling in for Pamela while she's getting hyperbaric oxygen treatments. <br /><br />Last
week was our 12th anniversary. I did better this year, but, then again,
I had nowhere to go but up (to read about that fiasco, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/02/anniversary-anomaly.html" target="_blank">here</a>). This year I sent her roses and chocolate-covered strawberries. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeZPjMEHt741ciN38iBPkkTakjVtV4UIT9NQOSVdAHSvm-DE8jpU1ElbCy_LWNfcsCqv0VtAde5zPrdKxH_XT1Bey2pwwYQesSY0Am5CAvwpFCCu-kmAzXxGhsL_81wv9mc82b7OSGJA/s1600/IMG_4309.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeZPjMEHt741ciN38iBPkkTakjVtV4UIT9NQOSVdAHSvm-DE8jpU1ElbCy_LWNfcsCqv0VtAde5zPrdKxH_XT1Bey2pwwYQesSY0Am5CAvwpFCCu-kmAzXxGhsL_81wv9mc82b7OSGJA/s1600/IMG_4309.JPG" width="293" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Pamela (in shock): Honey! I can't believe you did this!<br /><br />Me: I wanted to make up for all the times I didn't get you anything.<br /><br />Pamela (narrowing her eyes): Does this have anything to do with the fact that now I'm writing a blog?<br /><br />Me (ignoring her question and shoving a strawberry in her mouth): Here, baby. Aren't these good?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pamela (with her mouth full): Dothemritabus.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Sure. Whatever you said. I love you, too.<br /><br />Pamela (distracted from her blog question by chocolate): You are so incredibly sweet!<br /><br />Me (modestly): Yeah.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Pamela
(squinching up her face): Great. After years of following your lead
into marital complacency, now I have to come up
with something to give you.<br /><br />I grinned and assured her that she didn't need to get me anything. But a little later... </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pamela: Sweetie, at least I can give you an anniversary card.<br /><br />Me: Just a minute. I need to get your card.<br /><br />Pamela: Okay.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me (digging through piles of papers in the office): I can't find the card I got you!<br /><br />Pamela: You can give it to me later.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Me: No, I want to find it. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pamela (holding out a card): Just read your card. You can give me my card whenever you find it.<br /><br />Me (frustrated): I know it's here. I just had it!<br /><br />Pamela (glancing at the card she was about to give me with a look of realization): Oh. Wait. Um, is this the card you're looking for?<br /><br />Me: Are you saying that you stole the card that I bought you so you had a card to give to me?<br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm shaking
my head but laughing. I'm not sure that's what Proverbs 31 was
referring to when it says a virtuous wife resourceful, but Pamela would
argue differently.<br /><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Verse of the day</i>: "He who finds a wife finds a treasure and has favor from the Lord" (Proverbs 18:22). </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Follow-up
from Pamela: There was a lot of stuff lying around the office. How was I
supposed to remember who bought that particular card? Besides, if he
bought it, then it's guaranteed that I'm giving him a card he would
like. He should appreciate that. Especially since I proved a couple of
posts ago <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/11/its-impossible-to-buy-for-men.html" target="_blank">(click here)</a> that he's impossible to buy for. And if we're "one flesh," like it says in the <i>Bible, </i>then if he buys a card, it's the same as me buying the card. Right? That's simple, Biblical logic.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Follow-up from Jay: She stole my card. Then tried to give it to me for our anniversary. Enough said.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-24634854430923319862015-02-05T01:30:00.004-05:002016-02-08T06:18:22.237-05:00Baby, Light My Fire<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The night before our anniversary a few years ago, Jay filled in for a <span style="font-family: inherit;">c</span>aptain at a fire station near <span style="font-family: inherit;">our friend C<span style="font-family: inherit;">heryl's </span></span>house, so he dropped me off before he left for work <span style="font-family: inherit;">so I could spend th<span style="font-family: inherit;">e night at her house</span></span>. Since his <span style="font-family: inherit;">shift<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">wouldn't end until <span style="font-family: inherit;">8<span style="font-family: inherit;"> AM</span></span></span>,<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span>I playfully told him, "I should prank call the fire department at midnight to get them to send your truck to this area so I'll get to see you the minute our anniversary starts." (I was <i>kidding.</i>)<br /><br />Cheryl and I are both night owls, so we were watching a movie in the wee hours of the morning when we saw flashing lights pass the front window. We looked out to investigate. Her next<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>door<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>neighbor had put something flammable in his garbage <span style="font-family: inherit;">bin</span> before putting it by the curb for morning pick up. Somehow it<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>ignited<span style="font-family: inherit;">, and t</span>here was a flaming pile of plastic and garbage at the end of his driveway. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I recognized the gorgeous captain swinging off the fire truck, so I excitedly threw my fluffy, pink robe over my jammies and ran outside to see my husband. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The crew knew what to do, so Jay left them and walked across the lawn to see me. </span><span style="font-size: large;">As he approached the porch, I squealed, "It's after midnight; Happy Anniversary, honey!" I mean, what were the odds that I'd get to see him so soon?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He grinned, grabbed me in a big bear hug, and kissed me. It was cold, so he kept his arms wrapped snugly around me and rubbed my back as he murmured into my hair, "Happy Anniversary, baby!" <br /><br />I glanced past his shoulder and saw his crew staring at us in utter shock. It was then that I realized that they didn't know anything about Jay. They thought their substitute captain just walked up to a random woman (wearing a robe, no less) at a fire scene and started making out with her! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The rookie dutifully held the hose over the flames, but his eyes were completely locked on us. His open-mouthed look of awe said, "I heard stuff like this happens, but I thought they were kidding.<i> </i>I've<i> got</i> to take that Captain's Test!"<br /><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> "(He) must be a man whose life is above reproach. He must be faithful to his wife. He must exercise self-control, live wisely, and have a good reputation" (I Timothy 3:2).</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For another anniversary story, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/02/anniversary-anomaly.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <br />To read why Jay is terrified I will take "Come on, baby, light my fire" literally, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Oh, wait, there's another fire one <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/10/why-jay-begs-me-to-watch-more-tv.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Maybe now would be a good time to mention that I did <i>not </i>light the neighbor's trash bin on fire to see Jay as soon as our anniversary started.</span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-41233556509330893262014-11-27T12:42:00.003-05:002020-11-26T13:26:35.207-05:00Alone and Happy on Thanksgiving!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: helvetica;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Jay left at 7 AM this morning for his 24-hour shift at the fire station, and, becau<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">se of health issues<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">, I'm not <span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">physically up </span>to going to anyone's house. </span></span>Which means that I'm alone on Thanksgiving. <br /><br />Someone asked if that makes me sad. </span></span></div><span style="font-family: helvetica;">
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<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: large;">Nope! Not one bit.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Why?<br /><br />Because it's not a day to indulge in self-pity. I can feel sorry for myself the day before or the day after, but I certainly can't do it on a day dedicated to <i>thanks! </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">It's not "Give Thanks if Things the Way You Want Them Day" or "Give Thanks if You're with Friends and Family Eating Turkey and Pumpkin Pie Day."<br /><br />It's an entire day, morning to night, dedicated to thankfulness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><i>No matter what</i> my circumstances.<br /><br />So, I woke up this morning thankful for my warm, soft bed. And pajamas. And clean water in a clean glass on my nightstand. And slippers. And indoor plumbing. And toilet paper (leaves are too crunchy this time of year to work well, I'd imagine). And a house with central heat. And fresh bread. And a toaster. (Now you know how my mornings start.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Even our animals are filled with gratitude.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">The chickens are thankful that I gave them extra <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/11/happy-chicken-lady-day.html" target="_blank">meal worms</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">Caleb is thankful that after a week, Blanche opened her wounded eye. It's only half open, but progress is wonderful! </span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVgjsdqJxoVE-xor_wGZd0Xudi5pwFaM_ApysFhZViFku-UXi_NfoU_RY6AoIzcPVsAtc_OlFCzwU2W9LzChBgF0H7Oa4dLcln2usrKqpPJcOtSu2AoExmy2URNOKVbKrII3BwLne7Ho/s1600/IMG_3723.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVgjsdqJxoVE-xor_wGZd0Xudi5pwFaM_ApysFhZViFku-UXi_NfoU_RY6AoIzcPVsAtc_OlFCzwU2W9LzChBgF0H7Oa4dLcln2usrKqpPJcOtSu2AoExmy2URNOKVbKrII3BwLne7Ho/s1600/IMG_3723.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I'd been hoping she wouldn't be blind in that eye, because she's been walking around with her head cocked sideways for a week, and I didn't want to have to find a chicken chiropractor.<br /><br />Zoe is thankful that I allow her to massacre toys in our front room. She gets immense joy from disemboweling stuffed animals. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ffA13YEhc6Xec2UhzNcF34bsoSqnHTQvN3nPij9CtHQpdpLCbloTD1vudgvmvWPAyQASbUuwKVIh2mDaGNOePIDN74EdzzHSBaybnqzZm_rkNckv15ajFwKtCc_I1hlEPopakxVSPrE/s1600/IMG_3726.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ffA13YEhc6Xec2UhzNcF34bsoSqnHTQvN3nPij9CtHQpdpLCbloTD1vudgvmvWPAyQASbUuwKVIh2mDaGNOePIDN74EdzzHSBaybnqzZm_rkNckv15ajFwKtCc_I1hlEPopakxVSPrE/s1600/IMG_3726.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I'm thankful that she's so easy to entertain.<br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">She's also thankful she gets to pose for photos since it's one of her favorite things (for whatever weird reason).<br /><br />I may not be eating turkey today, but I'm thankful that I have a turkey cookie! (It's not turkey-flavored, just to be clear, only turkey-decorated.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE61wTXfbYkTxq6cQYkJUsdJ6R5Wxkuw9rWzNOzwJbV6DGvxwvFa3zS2yGNquSvcnwitXXlpY8o73CNlbbhHDal-gZ1UclJo70bh0Elc7CDQN1aOR9uBkvfcHPd9U8lgk-ohe5HkbbRw4/s1600/IMG_3717+(2).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE61wTXfbYkTxq6cQYkJUsdJ6R5Wxkuw9rWzNOzwJbV6DGvxwvFa3zS2yGNquSvcnwitXXlpY8o73CNlbbhHDal-gZ1UclJo70bh0Elc7CDQN1aOR9uBkvfcHPd9U8lgk-ohe5HkbbRw4/s1600/IMG_3717+(2).JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">And I'd argue that a cookie might be even be better than turkey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I'm thankful that I have a variety of wholesome food. But even if I only had porridge to eat (I still have no idea what that is, but poor Goldilocks had to be desperate to try it), I'd be thankful that I had bowl and a spoon to eat it with. <br /><br />(Just wondering, why would you make dinner, put it on the table, and then take a long walk without eating it? Is that just a bear-thing? If so, I'm thankful I'm not a bear.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I'm thankful I have a telephone so I could call Jay (and hear him answer with his mouth full of fire house Thanksgiving dinner) and remind him that I'm thankful for him. His response was, "Yeah, yeah, I'm thankful for you, too, honey, and I'll call you back when we're done eating." Rub it in, darling (eye roll). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">But I know this day isn't about the food I'm <i>not </i>eating, but about giving thanks for what I do have. (I had cheesy eggs and a homemade biscuit, and they were quite yummy.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I'm thankful that I can sit on massive mounds of oak leaves with our pets and feel the sun on my face. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mzk71_BisQd2I3y6x1pHBiENgtgh2-i8ncboB8sf4KVZdZ0sDfgetHvmvzq6mYcbpE4vddmM4MDq5hNEqMAyCtEy3hrxDXgZV4BsaNJCIL5ggbFUPSE_Jt8lWo-yQ087L8CPOOWqAbk/s1600/IMG_3729.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1mzk71_BisQd2I3y6x1pHBiENgtgh2-i8ncboB8sf4KVZdZ0sDfgetHvmvzq6mYcbpE4vddmM4MDq5hNEqMAyCtEy3hrxDXgZV4BsaNJCIL5ggbFUPSE_Jt8lWo-yQ087L8CPOOWqAbk/s1600/IMG_3729.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">Facebook is filled with photos of my friends and relatives getting together with their friends and relatives, and I'm thankful they welcome me into their lives long-distance. It makes me smile to see their pictures. And knowing them is another reason for gratitude.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">I'm thankful that I can focus on giving thanks to God all day without human (or culinary) distractions. I'm alone with Him, so He gets all of my attention today. <br /><br />That's why some of my best holidays are when Jay is working, and I <i>have </i>to focus on the real reason for the celebration. 'Jesus and me' is enough.</span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />I'm extremely thankful that I'm not named Habakkuk. (Imagine that nickname. Habby? Kukky? BakBak?)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><span style="font-size: large;">But even Habakkuk was thankful:<br /><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> (Habakkuk 3:17-18) "</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even though the fig trees have no blossoms,<span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Hab-3-17">and there are no grapes on the vines; </span></span><span class="text Hab-3-17">even though the olive crop fails,</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Hab-3-17">and the fields lie empty and barren; </span></span><span class="text Hab-3-17">even though the flocks die in the fields, </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Hab-3-17">and the cattle barns are empty, </span></span><span class="text Hab-3-18" id="en-NLT-22763">yet I will rejoice in the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>! </span><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Hab-3-18">I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!" </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: large;">And that is why I am having a <i>happy</i> Thanksgiving.</span></div>
Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-81341194399805855002014-11-19T18:59:00.000-05:002014-11-20T00:40:47.245-05:00It's Impossible to Buy for Men<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's impossible to buy gifts for men. Jay rarely wears ties and has plenty of socks (my standard gifts for my dad when I was growing up), and whenever I've asked what I can get him for a present, he's shrugged and replied, "Nothing. When I want something, I buy it myself." </span><br />
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I love giving gifts, so his attitude has not deterred me. It has just made me try harder.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For example, when Jay goes camping, he often complains about the cold, so I came up with several amazing solutions. But </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jay objected to every, single one. </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here are a few things that he assured me that, upon receiving, he would set ablaze at the fire department for fire suppression training. Proving that he is a difficult, difficult man.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not only would he be warm and cozy, but this practical gift would render him invisible to forest predators. And the added bonus is that it would keep bugs from flying up his nose! </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZprhwE2WEW7LFA8RIHX4cg5bNrbGCTlC1dLkrMGRErfBc9xqC4airk7GK8I02N4aE1fl8yetEQHIDb0Mp858c8r7I1ztCBu5ei7tFuWVEOQ2AvBwYfqWEPJmlctduX1E3Inu5nEfiVA/s1600/camo+bodysuit+from+root+suit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZprhwE2WEW7LFA8RIHX4cg5bNrbGCTlC1dLkrMGRErfBc9xqC4airk7GK8I02N4aE1fl8yetEQHIDb0Mp858c8r7I1ztCBu5ei7tFuWVEOQ2AvBwYfqWEPJmlctduX1E3Inu5nEfiVA/s1600/camo+bodysuit+from+root+suit.jpg" height="400" width="137" /></span></a></div>
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And if he wanted to hide in a puddle, he could wear this one!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRW24QBSo6UrZs30w65s2er0aMUhPgxRZpd4OJ7cAuo4iwrcFhYVXpo_ekviBtLRNVrtlEr_ykXPhXqtIbZQ4N-U1-xJ4Eoy5obLwjbCZbcMk33luNfOMugDSILCyGWMjOH7Ly9Mi9LLc/s1600/puddle+body+suit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRW24QBSo6UrZs30w65s2er0aMUhPgxRZpd4OJ7cAuo4iwrcFhYVXpo_ekviBtLRNVrtlEr_ykXPhXqtIbZQ4N-U1-xJ4Eoy5obLwjbCZbcMk33luNfOMugDSILCyGWMjOH7Ly9Mi9LLc/s1600/puddle+body+suit.jpg" height="400" width="141" /></span></a></div>
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Jay, to my disgust, shot both options down. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But being the persistent and wonderful wife that I am, I persevered.</span></span><br />
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I thought more color might appeal to him. I even discovered a matching option for me!</span></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggi2Sfvu4uA925mLrnYe6q8jEnQKTYoEjnG_ZuK4as6QOyJNRktjnISl8zCbdWbMTVYrzvspgk9543zFhCYGe6o2wdhHMPYq_yiB1UfHJsKeMIiUNGNUowjeDlfKCf8nJqxhivYrmVATY/s1600/onesie+tie+dyed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggi2Sfvu4uA925mLrnYe6q8jEnQKTYoEjnG_ZuK4as6QOyJNRktjnISl8zCbdWbMTVYrzvspgk9543zFhCYGe6o2wdhHMPYq_yiB1UfHJsKeMIiUNGNUowjeDlfKCf8nJqxhivYrmVATY/s1600/onesie+tie+dyed.jpg" height="400" width="264" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">photo from Wild Flower Dyes on etsy.com</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMCz9aGCm1HwrfFruLRcRAuewmGE6Pgic4R2ocWjRFkCfYrSnKV00WHxG0mEahA2tYpg9WcGnucd7pbWnfciMtWWs_QzwVOLvY84IjGY68NfnDG1AJ93OztY2dMBT0C1ulV9ujUhs2rZE/s1600/couple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMCz9aGCm1HwrfFruLRcRAuewmGE6Pgic4R2ocWjRFkCfYrSnKV00WHxG0mEahA2tYpg9WcGnucd7pbWnfciMtWWs_QzwVOLvY84IjGY68NfnDG1AJ93OztY2dMBT0C1ulV9ujUhs2rZE/s1600/couple.jpg" height="400" width="265" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">photo from Wild Flower Dyes on etsy.com</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">See how happy these two people look? We could look like them, too! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, except that I don't camp. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or frolic in the woods in long johns. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or get high. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But if I did, then I am utterly convinced that this would be the thing to wear!</span></div>
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But Jay, otherwise known as Captain Picky Pants (don't tell him I called him that.), flatly refused to even <em>consider</em> my selection.</span></span></div>
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Finally, after <em>hours</em> of desperate searching, I discovered the preeminent gift.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The incomparable gift.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The inimitable gift.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">True perfection in giving.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Undeniably the BEST GIFT EVER!</span></div>
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A knit onesie. In sage green, to match his eyes and the woodland beauty of the forest.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6TWvfets4pRo-9S373FnMIprL14QelVj2CA9m3SVcn7C8zLC9gcHurcjb9cKi29UgX01sFQc0uV2uSUW494MWOkVriA7y7Wv2mx3Ts0blSTSwaBc3r0ZkFHFIrWbQ_trLnWq73qNG8A/s1600/mens+onesie+back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK6TWvfets4pRo-9S373FnMIprL14QelVj2CA9m3SVcn7C8zLC9gcHurcjb9cKi29UgX01sFQc0uV2uSUW494MWOkVriA7y7Wv2mx3Ts0blSTSwaBc3r0ZkFHFIrWbQ_trLnWq73qNG8A/s400/mens+onesie+back.jpg" width="195" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVl7r8qi9GXh3rp5QXHZPtLqv3sbiiryevAjIL5abYkWomDnbdDxgdnlellktSxrE8d0GnNr0Zy_PGSdTjV8_rJjOWX7q5rYNYNg5WH1p-jdB6ZSyJhgTxeU2I612IAvm0hhJ0WiheQ7s/s1600/knit+onesie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVl7r8qi9GXh3rp5QXHZPtLqv3sbiiryevAjIL5abYkWomDnbdDxgdnlellktSxrE8d0GnNr0Zy_PGSdTjV8_rJjOWX7q5rYNYNg5WH1p-jdB6ZSyJhgTxeU2I612IAvm0hhJ0WiheQ7s/s400/knit+onesie.jpg" width="261" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To my utter surprise, he had such a negative reaction that I won't even describe it (especially since this is a family blog).</span></span></div>
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Ingrate. </span></span></div>
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From now on, I'm only buying him socks and ties. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't wait to see his beaming face full of joyful gratitude when he rips the wrapping paper off of his gifts to find these beauties:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNmmjR2Ot5y-aKuODLUcxLmJCqAWSLpi3jLskxJGFUx2VKml2wL2_X7DgyjFvf7FC0ObS8hyphenhyphenvkCrT338xFJA_9ZOZJ7Bn3cy83M-J7P25laLEOnBtwQISOEBttOsd9FDhKIEoiD5ridrI/s1600/spong+bob+bow+tie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNmmjR2Ot5y-aKuODLUcxLmJCqAWSLpi3jLskxJGFUx2VKml2wL2_X7DgyjFvf7FC0ObS8hyphenhyphenvkCrT338xFJA_9ZOZJ7Bn3cy83M-J7P25laLEOnBtwQISOEBttOsd9FDhKIEoiD5ridrI/s320/spong+bob+bow+tie.jpg" unselectable="on" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDGvqSaTMCDqKSnw3jxhVJeLCFZh4eOuWI-aWgxtH4xA7WuO6zO1yAdbiVgJycbnfgvlOkC4ZT-62nWedaA5PCe6fDNAPWeEVcqIrTgUI3_V2U_dYQX0FHQwZ4v0n8rgKJsziOCo6ev8/s1600/spongebob+socks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaDGvqSaTMCDqKSnw3jxhVJeLCFZh4eOuWI-aWgxtH4xA7WuO6zO1yAdbiVgJycbnfgvlOkC4ZT-62nWedaA5PCe6fDNAPWeEVcqIrTgUI3_V2U_dYQX0FHQwZ4v0n8rgKJsziOCo6ev8/s1600/spongebob+socks.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
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</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Verse of the day: </i>(Colossians 2:7) "Let your roots grow down into Him and let your lives be built on Him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness." </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">I read this verse to Jay and he pointed to the man in the knit onesie and remarked, "That guy is hiding his face and clenching both of his fists. 'Overflow with thankfulness' that you have enough sense to not buy that thing for me."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Camo unisuits can be purchased at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/">www.amazon.com</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Knit onsie can be purchased (at your own risk) at <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/full-body-sweater">http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/full-body-sweater</a></span></span></div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Sponge Bob bow tie can be purchased at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/">www.etsy.com</a> </span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">In the beginning they posted "Older men looking for sexy women over 50." I'm not near 50, let alone <i>over </i>50! How many wrinkles do I look like I have in my photos? And why would I be lured by the thought of "older men" finding me sexy? Is Facebook convinced that I'm unappealing to men my own age?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: large;">The ad column eventually added "Medical Miracle Cures for Obesity!" and "How to Lose Belly Fat with One Weird Trick." So, they not only think I look older than I really am, but they also are of the opinion that I desperately need to lose weight.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: large;"><br />If my advanced age and considerable size weren't enough to fret about, the other day I was shown </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">ads for "Facial Hair Grooming Kits" and "The Art of Shaving."</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>How Facebook sees me</b></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>How I see myself</b></span></td></tr>
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Apparently they also believe my hairline is receding because then I was sent cures for baldness and helpful hints on how to hide extreme hair loss. <br />
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Those were followed by "Sexy Club Dresses--$10!" </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: large;">And then "How to Cope with a Loss of Bladder Control."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;">Well, now I know why Facebook advises me to go for older men. Only men with limited faculties would find </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="bc_0_1b+seedCn6GD" kind="d">a balding, bearded, urine-soaked woman in a cheap, hoochie dress remotely sexy.</span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">It could be worse. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="font-size: large;">I have a girlfriend who gets ads for prostate health.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span class="text Matt-16-15" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;"><i>Verse of the day: </i>(Matthew 16:15-16) “'But what about you?' (Jesus)</span> asked. '<span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box;">Who do you say I am?' </span></span>Simon Peter answered, 'You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.'” </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Peter got the answer perfectly right.</span></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-50547757432525728402014-11-05T10:47:00.000-05:002015-03-11T08:07:49.521-04:00Happy Chicken Lady Day (Yes, It's a Real Holiday)<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When Jay first told me that he wanted backyard chickens, I thought it was a phase and hoped that if I ignored it, he'd move on to something else. However, he persisted. Finally, I told him, "Honey, I don't like birds and I don't like eggs, but I really like you, so I won't protest if you get them."</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you've read my post <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/daylight-nightlight.html" target="_blank">Daylight Nightlight</a>, then you know that one of the conditions of getting hens was that we would do whatever we could to make their life enjoyable (which led to the heat lamp <span style="font-family: inherit;">fiasco</span>). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You also know from my post <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/10/hen-hazards-by-pammy-mae.html" target="_blank">Hidden Hen Hazards</a>, that I can occasionally take things too far. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At various times in a chicken's life, she moults. This means the old feathers fall off and are replaced with new feathers. The birds usually look half-naked and, since feathers are made of protein, they stop laying eggs as they grow new feathers. Our chickens have a large yard in which to find plenty of protein-rich worms and bugs, so they grew feathers back as quickly as they lost them and never stopped laying. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This past winter, however, we had more snow than usual, so the bugs were few and the worms were deep in the hard ground. Our girls began to look a little scraggly, so I decided to supplement their diet with meal worms. <br /><br />In the beginning, I was freaked green looking at all the photos of dried, freeze-dried, and live worms on-line as I shopped for the best prices, but out of love of our sweet biddies, I persevered. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AUWcpnNGk8h-Vqz-y5pbl8sOp3qgkyuMYXbynL07aQrHQV8IyA1009FkkeFq4yx7ijxw9mFE6w0sD1cD09iYzNbT4wq354-xNNzyz4as8vvGMgEC0XdIp5OwSAEDM3xw9SQ7XocYPYE/s1600/Meal+worms+ECU.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AUWcpnNGk8h-Vqz-y5pbl8sOp3qgkyuMYXbynL07aQrHQV8IyA1009FkkeFq4yx7ijxw9mFE6w0sD1cD09iYzNbT4wq354-xNNzyz4as8vvGMgEC0XdIp5OwSAEDM3xw9SQ7XocYPYE/s1600/Meal+worms+ECU.JPG" height="187" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />It was rather late when I read the blog of a man who raises his own meal worms.<br /><br />Me: Jay, listen to this. He keeps them in his <i>living room! </i>Ewww!<br /><br />Jay (half asleep): That's nice.<br /><br />Me (still reading): Oh, he keeps them indoors because they need a temperature of least 70 degrees. How warm is our shed in the winter?<br /><br />Jay (yawning): Not nearly that warm. It's not insulated.<br /><br />Me (perusing further): He keeps them in a plastic bin with wheat bran for food and apple slices for moisture. He says they're an incredibly cheap source of protein for chickens.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Then I actually asked: Do we have an empty plastic bin somewhere?<br /><br />Seriously! Someone help me!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />If we don't have $7.99 for a bag of freeze dried meal worms, then our chickens will just have to run around half-naked until their feathers fill in. <br /><br />Because I'm <i>not </i>one of those crazy people who would breed meal worms in her living room for her chickens!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br />But I <i>am</i> one of those people who would consider knitting them little sweaters until their feathers grow back...</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: <a href="http://happyvalleycrafters.com/2012/02/floozy-finds/doomsday-preppers-and-floozy-guns/attachment/chickenwearingsweater/" rel="nofollow" style="border: 0px; color: #999999; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">happyvalleycrafters.com</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: <a href="http://lorainestevens.co.uk/ChickenJumpersforsale.aspx" rel="nofollow" style="border: 0px; color: #999999; font-family: ProximaNovaRegular, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; line-height: 17px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: start; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">lorainestevens.co.uk</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Come on, aren't they cute? Or have I gone off the deep end again? I've lost my ability to tell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Verse of the day</i>: (Proverbs 12:10a) The righteous care about the needs of their animals..." </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Jay protests otherwise, but clearly chicken sweaters fall under the category of animal "needs." Which makes me, obviously, more righteous than Jay. Please pray for him to be enlightened.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">For two other chicken stories, see <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/10/hen-hazards-by-pammy-mae.html" target="_blank">"Hidden Hen Hazards"</a> and <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/daylight-nightlight.html" target="_blank">"Daylight Nightlight."</a></span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since writing the above post, I've been made aware that a wonderful and magical place called Circle A Hardware (who knew a hardware could be magical?) is selling chicken harnesses! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBIfraQMzykrYq_fIswplOgdG_KozkhvyUamgGJUmeYhYlc5xoLKfVFGKPbS67eK6eQ2dkqhMCtxep8PJrgQ5dYB8yf9yQexL-l3VqliR1EFH1Zisl8fgcZvOxoHI4kHYTP6yjGlMMfQ/s1600/Chicken+harness+at+Circle+A+hardware.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyBIfraQMzykrYq_fIswplOgdG_KozkhvyUamgGJUmeYhYlc5xoLKfVFGKPbS67eK6eQ2dkqhMCtxep8PJrgQ5dYB8yf9yQexL-l3VqliR1EFH1Zisl8fgcZvOxoHI4kHYTP6yjGlMMfQ/s1600/Chicken+harness+at+Circle+A+hardware.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't have their website, but their # is 225-567-5453</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Can you imagine Jay taking a walk with two dogs and four chickens on leashes? I can! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />He says he can't. He has no imagination. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Which means I really, really need to buy the harnesses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To assist his underactive imagination. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Because I'm <i>helpful.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i>Helping those who are lacking is a <i>good </i>thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-53884293299626438502014-10-22T00:17:00.001-04:002014-10-27T15:21:28.065-04:00Cheater, Cheater, Pumpkin Eater<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I feel so guilty. I have something to confess. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I, yes, I have been doing a horrific thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jay and I rarely watch live TV because we record shows on our Digital Video Recorder to watch together. And yet, there have been times when I've been stuck at home due to poor health while he's out teaching young Royal Rangers how to grow into men of honor and integrity (as well as how to light fires with flint and make a rope bridge), running errands, at a meeting, or (worse) at the fire station nobly risking his life for the general public...</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">and I (this is so hard)...<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've (sob)...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">secretly (deep breath)... <br /><br />watched an episode without him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay! Okay! I admit it!<br /><br />I've watched more than one episode without him. <br /><br />Maybe even three.<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe even an entire season.<br /><br />Or six.<br /><br />A few times he almost caught me. He came home earlier than I expected and asked, "What are you doing?" I was vague, misleading, and distracted him with food. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My refusal to answer his question should have told me that I was behaving badly.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />But did it really hurt him if he didn't know? We never promised we wouldn't watch an episode without the other person. I was careful to say nothing about my foreknowledge of a pre-viewed show when we watched it together. I even helpfully pointed out a detail or two that would be important to the plot later on. Helping is good, right?<br /><br />A couple of times I almost gave myself away by "guessing" the ending. He thinks I'm unusually clever, so why disappoint him? Doesn't every man long for a clever wife? Why tell him that instead he has a DVR cheating wife? That would just be cruel!<br /><br />Yet, for all my justifications, I know it's wrong. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know I should stop.<br /><br />I know should confess to Jay. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I know I should make an appointment with our pastor for marriage counseling. <br /><br />I know I should floss twice daily.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And I will.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Right after I finish watching the newest season of <i>Sherlock </i>on Masterpiece Mystery. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Verse of the day: </i>(Mark 4:22) "There is nothing hidden which will not be revealed, nor has anything been kept secret but that it should come to light."</span> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Okay! I'll tell him already!</span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-68300728060302528782014-10-15T02:02:00.001-04:002019-02-21T00:40:58.049-05:00Fermented Fraken-'shrooms (with Beet Kvass recipe)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I should have known not to marry a man who'd been in Intelligence in the military. He seemed so sweet. I never suspected the plots fermenting behind those gorgeous guileless, green eyes.<br /><br /><i>Before marriage: </i><br /><br />Me: What in the world is that stinky pile of garbage doing in the far corner of your yard?<br /><br />He: It's a compost pile. <br /><br />Me: That's <i>disgusting! </i>You can buy soil and fertilizer. <br /><br />He (agreeably): If you don't like it, sweetheart, then I'll get rid of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />Nice, right? Oh, no. The brainwashing already began.<br /><br /><i>After marriage:</i><br /><br />He: Wouldn't it be great to have a few backyard chickens, sweet pea? They're low-maintenance, and I could offer you fresh eggs for breakfast, my love.<br /><br />Me (basking in the endearments and thinking about breakfast in bed): I guess that sounds reasonable.<br /><br />See what he did there? I didn't. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Until it was too late.<br /><br />As I wrote in one of my most popular posts, gradually and with great skill did Jay con me into raising chickens, organic gardening, organic composting, making <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/01/our-trip-was-bomb.html" target="_blank">organic lotion</a>, and grinding GMO-free wheat to make homemade bread. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(On second thought, I take back "with great skill" because it took him nine years to get me started.) If you don't know what I'm talking about, please click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/10/hen-hazards-by-pammy-mae.html" target="_blank">here</a> to read <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/10/hen-hazards-by-pammy-mae.html" target="_blank">Hen Hazards</a> before continuing so you'll understand the depth of my city-girl demise.<br /><br />I have now been sucked even further into the homesteading quicksand. <br /><br />Jay has been subtly lobbying for a beehive, so I agreed to take an introductory class at a local farm (<a href="http://www.whisperinghopefarm.com/" target="_blank">www.whisperinghopefarm.com</a>) just to inform him that bees are too much work. The class was cancelled, and I ended up in a class on fermentation. <br /><br />You heard me. I said, <i>fermentation.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was hesitant, but as soon as we arrived, one of the farm's nanny goats lulled me into lowering my defenses. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm obsessed with goats, so I couldn't think with all the goat-love floating in the air.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then the sweet and earnest teacher gave each of us a swig of pineapple kefir (a drink made without dairy that contains more beneficial strains of probiotics than yogurt) that naturally has a dash of alcohol.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My body is completely unused to <i>any</i> alcohol (I gag at the alcohol content in mouthwash), so I can only conclude that the merest drop in the kefir impaired my judgment.<br /><br />Why do I think so? Because I took copious notes and then drank a shot of kombucha.<br /><br />What is kombucha? <br /><br />Let me enlighten you. It's the liquid from something that is not a giant mushroom but looks like a giant mushroom that grows in organic tea. The tea is drained after a few days, added to juice, and left a few days longer to ferment into a fizzy drink.<i> </i></span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>Photo of the non-mushroom 'shroom from a Craigslist ad</b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Disgusting! </i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yet below is a photo of me willingly consuming 'shroom juice.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It doesn't matter that it tasted good because look at that non-mushroom mushroom thing growing in the jar! <br /><br />I. Drank. Its. Juice. <br /><br />Why? Why would I do such a thing if I wasn't brainwashed?<br /><br />Don't give me all that jazz about anti-oxidants, liver cleansing, joint care, intestinal health, candida fighting, immune system support, etc. because<i> it looks like a giant mushroom is growing in the tea.</i><br /><br />Then I made beet kvass. (In my defense, see how tipsy I look in that first photo?)</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrGrLIbmYLQSkz_C15WgM97jJg8I9zSh1zyS4YyF-Cit9kiOfb7fZ8jW3Q5Z7HOtN1syEAatBrQA0kN6tO8Ha_acMhdlD0lWNoY_-UEoHYCQE_600FiejzqxytbvT5IXoUo2TkCYyKAY/s1600/IMG_3286.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrGrLIbmYLQSkz_C15WgM97jJg8I9zSh1zyS4YyF-Cit9kiOfb7fZ8jW3Q5Z7HOtN1syEAatBrQA0kN6tO8Ha_acMhdlD0lWNoY_-UEoHYCQE_600FiejzqxytbvT5IXoUo2TkCYyKAY/s1600/IMG_3286.JPG" width="164" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA3YAfpnQfVwx4BoHvBDfnpIebkDoyQQfN1u-5N-_41HoWM5WFpCFl8OiWtChDlr6A_G_C6Zb4qPsih-HMMDbjfer3ZE9jZMGiPEDG5TBPSvoCYVxiCbU2GMJAKL7gklwGvKuyv-7YUY/s1600/IMG_3283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA3YAfpnQfVwx4BoHvBDfnpIebkDoyQQfN1u-5N-_41HoWM5WFpCFl8OiWtChDlr6A_G_C6Zb4qPsih-HMMDbjfer3ZE9jZMGiPEDG5TBPSvoCYVxiCbU2GMJAKL7gklwGvKuyv-7YUY/s1600/IMG_3283.JPG" width="153" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9yGVQOoXI2hqF8DRHaCFZvu7musldqY4XGOsfzT-aJZH4ULYQKaUyhHUQlSk4zMnNACsT_wzWaCy_MLl21gAfcECGKQLUR6yOxbuamcfJx2hWxMYR-b7aawMDkjbv18cJBffCsvhDjcQ/s1600/IMG_3284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9yGVQOoXI2hqF8DRHaCFZvu7musldqY4XGOsfzT-aJZH4ULYQKaUyhHUQlSk4zMnNACsT_wzWaCy_MLl21gAfcECGKQLUR6yOxbuamcfJx2hWxMYR-b7aawMDkjbv18cJBffCsvhDjcQ/s1600/IMG_3284.JPG" width="161" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a jar (I had a pint jar, but you really need a half gallon size) nearly filled with chopped organic beets (leave the skin on and don't scrub when you wash it because that's where the good cultures are), two tablespoons of unbleached sea salt mixed in distilled water (either I'm turning into a hippy or I was indicating the salt content in the second photo), and either 1/8 cup of whey or 2 tablespoons of starter culture (if you don't have whey or a starter, then just leave the kvass sitting for three weeks instead of three days.). It's covered with a coffee filter or cheesecloth (never metal--metals will kill your culture) and left in a warm room to lacto-ferment for three to five days. The beets must be strained out (with a <i>plastic</i> strainer) and discarded before drinking the kvass. The kvass can then be refrigerated for weeks.<br /><br />How does it taste?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Disgusting.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">And smells like a sweaty baby. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">I hate beets and it's salty. (I understand it's supposed to taste better if you ferment it with a bit of onions and cabbage. Of course, then it will smell like sweaty feet.). But am I choking down a couple of tablespoons a day? Of course. That's just how brainwashed I am. (I mash it in with squash, potatoes, or scrambled eggs to disguise the flavor. I'm wimpy.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />And don't give me all that rockabilly about it being full of probiotics and enzymes, used for 2000 years in Europe and the Orient to prevent against infectious diseases, and touted to regulate blood sugar, clean the liver, and help with digestive issues. That doesn't take away from the fact that it's <i>fermented beets,</i> people!<br /><br />I even took home my tiny tupperware of kefir grains and have been diligently fermenting my own dairy-free probiotic-powerhouse kefir mixed with organic pear juice and sealed for a day until it gets fizzy.<br /><br />How is it?<br /><br />It smells <i>disgusting.</i> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">But it tastes way too good for me to pretend otherwise.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRVMZjLVapwTxCXIo3WJMuZ1LTDiBJWdC-fdRHX5MzSK-Q4SQIQSagrG1r0lcvcmaBQYOwwOOnA7LPCuBxhtzXgNrVlsYyCzew-yodT6iSETrppTia-exM16kTqoXAwqeKxTfXBz0rmc/s1600/Pamela+with+kefir+blue+bottle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJRVMZjLVapwTxCXIo3WJMuZ1LTDiBJWdC-fdRHX5MzSK-Q4SQIQSagrG1r0lcvcmaBQYOwwOOnA7LPCuBxhtzXgNrVlsYyCzew-yodT6iSETrppTia-exM16kTqoXAwqeKxTfXBz0rmc/s1600/Pamela+with+kefir+blue+bottle.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Okay, it really doesn't smell bad either (I just got on a roll with writing <i>disgusting.</i>). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">It's incredibly easy to make and tastes like pear champagne. I put it in a cobalt blue bottle (so pretty), which makes it even lovelier to drink. As soon as I get the milk kefir culture, I'm going to make milk kefir, too.<br /><br />What's happened to me? I'm <i>fermenting.</i><br /> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Remember when I pranked our pastor by gleefully forcing him to swallow what he thought was <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/mares-milk-rocks.html" target="_blank">fermented mare's milk</a>? Now I actually know how to make it! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If anyone is so inclined to milk a mare for me.<br /><br />You know, if someone showed me how, I could probably milk one myself.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Oh, help me. </span><br /><br /><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Please </i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">help me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I desperately need deprogramming.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Especially before I attempt to squeeze dairy out of a lactating horse.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> (Isaiah 43:18-19a) <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span></span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="text Isa-43-18" id="en-NIV-18524">Forget the former things;</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Isa-43-18">do not dwell on the past.</span></span><span class="text Isa-43-19" id="en-NIV-18525"> See, I am doing a new thing!"</span></span> And that new thing happens to be a cheese-making class at Whispering Hope Farm where we'll milk a goat. Seriously! I'm going to milk Gertrude. And you'll hear about it, no doubt, in a future post... <br />
</span><b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">For the story of our pastor and fermented mare's milk, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/mares-milk-rocks.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></b></span><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For a story about an early chicken-owning mishap click on </span><a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/daylight-nightlight.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Daylight Nightlight</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For a story about how we almost were arrested because of my homemade body oil click on </span><a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/01/our-trip-was-bomb.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Our A-Bomb-Able Trip Home</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For the story about why to </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">never, ever, ever </i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">get backyard chickens, no matter how sweet they are, click on </span><a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/10/hen-hazards-by-pammy-mae.html" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Hen Hazards</a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">. </span></b>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-75798133716118044572014-10-08T00:22:00.005-04:002015-03-05T04:12:55.564-05:00I'm Not Childish; I'm Adultish<span style="font-size: large;">I find little more annoying than adults who refuse to
mature, so I hate the posts on social media that say things like, "Don't
ever grow up!" Really? Do we need more immature and irresponsible
adults who lack good judgment? I don't think so.<br /><br />But I'm equally against the ridiculous notion that adults can't have just as much simple, beautiful fun as children. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I saw a photo of a toddler drinking from
a hose with the caption "Oh, to be a kid again." My first thought was, <i>No one told me that I had to stop doing that when I became an adult.</i>
Our house has well water, so when I'm outside playing (yes, I call it
"play" when I take a moment to pet my chickens, swing on the glider, or
exclaim over the teeny ground strawberries</span><span style="font-size: large;">), it's
perfectly logical to hang my head under the outside faucet to slurp up a
drink rather than take off my boots to go into the house. It's just
as expedient, efficient, and enjoyable to do that now as when I was a child.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I still lie in the grass with my dogs on a sunny day. I still love to discover tiny, star-shaped flowers hiding in the bushes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSSP5H4GqlXz1M6N51nt_sHjCVmjLT7kxa8dHEiDRqlreHs7n1yR_4qJ5nDX_0NnK6PFqDMI9C5JaZPhx8ZYIuI8xmEoxlAMfGH1Vrk9sBZSZboEzHxenDnMOFAxM17tfNQRJfScku9g/s1600/IMG_3262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSSP5H4GqlXz1M6N51nt_sHjCVmjLT7kxa8dHEiDRqlreHs7n1yR_4qJ5nDX_0NnK6PFqDMI9C5JaZPhx8ZYIuI8xmEoxlAMfGH1Vrk9sBZSZboEzHxenDnMOFAxM17tfNQRJfScku9g/s1600/IMG_3262.JPG" height="285" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I still get a thrill when I see a striped lizard chilaxing in the sun. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYO7zjLJtnjSiTjTkbJ5MX_cvleYP2lutodxm8wO7gazbmaZOgczQGisetdBBhhnR5ZCNY4EyTEL0aQVCD80PyHI6IAw-ERWousJia_BmJW5LIbAvOUpBU7stjKYw1b0KIVa-b8PKZsFg/s1600/Stripedy+Lizard.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYO7zjLJtnjSiTjTkbJ5MX_cvleYP2lutodxm8wO7gazbmaZOgczQGisetdBBhhnR5ZCNY4EyTEL0aQVCD80PyHI6IAw-ERWousJia_BmJW5LIbAvOUpBU7stjKYw1b0KIVa-b8PKZsFg/s1600/Stripedy+Lizard.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Or a tender blue and black butterfly showing off.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizs_rxOz_0sxAQexolcHmyJet4WQbSeh35hz_tJd_MZZBaI5GKERXwOuhKyIcDgW0UEFcUCKde53JlULcIh2kWzzevi-pe1zgWb2cd_3z3O8COVihhtzne21KMb61xnSuEz8wC4gf6b3Y/s1600/Blue+butterfly+cropped.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizs_rxOz_0sxAQexolcHmyJet4WQbSeh35hz_tJd_MZZBaI5GKERXwOuhKyIcDgW0UEFcUCKde53JlULcIh2kWzzevi-pe1zgWb2cd_3z3O8COVihhtzne21KMb61xnSuEz8wC4gf6b3Y/s1600/Blue+butterfly+cropped.jpg" height="285" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I still blow dandelion seeds into the air.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A
few days ago Jay, my cousin (Linda), and I, with as much enthusiasm as
children, tried to whistle using acorn caps. Why? Because it's fall. And
the acorns are on the ground. And the acorn caps are begging to be
whistled through.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMO15SXKzhbAEx3LYHK0vx1O3vvL4r7FZZjKJfiII7W_nQE4lIpUTKmK6kSGtLIhv0yvQT5fl5cL4PS5dxD_2X6DywgkgbDNaTw3I6p0x8ltNlmkh0lWBHn1wJ5UY6IN2tb-jZTTTfhr8/s1600/IMG_0803.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMO15SXKzhbAEx3LYHK0vx1O3vvL4r7FZZjKJfiII7W_nQE4lIpUTKmK6kSGtLIhv0yvQT5fl5cL4PS5dxD_2X6DywgkgbDNaTw3I6p0x8ltNlmkh0lWBHn1wJ5UY6IN2tb-jZTTTfhr8/s1600/IMG_0803.JPG" height="285" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's not childish; that's ageless. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't give up ice cream or chocolate chip cookies when I became an adult, so why would I give up other things I enjoyed?<br /><br />I
have a huge box of crayons and sometimes I color to relax. How old do
you have to be before you're not allowed to color anymore? It's
incredibly soothing. It's mentally better than a glass of wine because
I'm not numbing my senses in order to relax; I'm fulfilling my senses. I
love the smell of crayons, the rhythmic sound of the wax rubbing off
onto the paper, the smoothness of the crayon in my fingers, the blend of
the hues, the look of black lines and white spaces slowly coming to
colorful life...</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKJbcly7Z5ANGrtaoz_5PmDl_tZMPHbz3aFKp__CzAmEw7WrBDxQaoyfVJvW5iCgUUHBTZP3JlWMKbHb_al3lKNT_ytiM1MrBb0cG1oCpKZ5K8E-TykbPWSYzf7jDUiMJfI05dwZz620/s1600/Coloring+with+Linda+Oct+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKJbcly7Z5ANGrtaoz_5PmDl_tZMPHbz3aFKp__CzAmEw7WrBDxQaoyfVJvW5iCgUUHBTZP3JlWMKbHb_al3lKNT_ytiM1MrBb0cG1oCpKZ5K8E-TykbPWSYzf7jDUiMJfI05dwZz620/s1600/Coloring+with+Linda+Oct+2014.jpg" height="286" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Paul said in Corinthians 13:11, "When I was a
child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. But when I
became a man, I
put away childish things." Lest we misunderstand, he listed what he meant by childish things:
selfishness, envy, pride, irritability, and rudeness. He never said he put away<i> </i>childlike faith or joy or laughter. We preserve those things. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I have more fun as an adult because I have better sense
and more freedom. If I want, I can eat a brownie for breakfast. And
sometimes I do! When we go to a restaurant, I ask to see the dessert
menu first. Sometimes I get my dinner to go and just relish dessert.
I have enough grown-up self-control to limit my sweet
tooth, but also enough <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joie_de_vivre" target="_blank">j</a></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joie_de_vivre" target="_blank">oie de vivre</a> to indulge it when I'm in the mood. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A friend told me that she went to a dinner
where one of the guests brought
bottles of bubbles for everyone. I've never met that woman, but I <i>love</i>
her! After they ate, this
group of ladies walked through the green Pennsylvania countryside,
blowing bubbles in the dusky light. At what age are we supposed to stop
enjoying this? People, there's a <i>rainbow </i>in every bubble! A rainbow to remind us of our Creator's creativity and love.<br /> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxXnsDMl-LT7Ig8pEf9MTlQ_Ju0IWmngoiQKAFd0IgXsr0SVMhjVNiN_Bquvna4zFm8k-2-BcB6v_lzy-Wfw3qYygrjL61iv-zFLpBzZ2sas6VHI1HtGT6k5pcY743z91sJ4uXnhGD2A/s1600/Bubble.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXxXnsDMl-LT7Ig8pEf9MTlQ_Ju0IWmngoiQKAFd0IgXsr0SVMhjVNiN_Bquvna4zFm8k-2-BcB6v_lzy-Wfw3qYygrjL61iv-zFLpBzZ2sas6VHI1HtGT6k5pcY743z91sJ4uXnhGD2A/s1600/Bubble.jpg" height="263" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Not my photo, but I'm unsure to whom exactly the photo credit belongs</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">There's a warm
satisfaction in blowing an
especially big bubble or attaching two or three bubbles without popping
them. There's beauty in seeing their shimmering roundness float through
the balmy air. The other day someone said to me, "You can't say the word
'bubble' in an angry way." I've tried; you simply can't pull it off. Why would anyone ever give up something so wonderful?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I
received an order today, which is always exciting. I'd forgotten that
when I filled out the on-line order form, in the section for
additional instructions, I'd written "Tell the next person you see, 'My
left elbow is turning green. The cat told me it was because of the
grapes.'" The person filling my order highlighted it and wrote "This"
with an arrow and a laughing face by it. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes in Delivery Instructions, I write, "When I answer the door, tell me I'm having a good hair day. Sound sincere no matter how I look." It's fun to make people grin at
any age.</span><br /><br />I love to giggle with friends. Laughing so hard
that we end up on the floor with red faces, holding our bellies. That
isn't childish; that's adultish. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the wee hours of the morning, Jay and I plan to get up, climb on the
roof, and huddle under blankets to watch the Blood Moon eclipse. Yes, he
has to work in the morning, and I have someone coming over before 9 AM. But
why not?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Grow up!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Have fun! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I assure you that they are not mutually exclusive.<br /><br /><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse(s) of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Luke 18:15-17) </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"One
day some parents brought their little children to Jesus so He
could touch and bless them. But when the disciples saw this, they
scolded the parents for bothering Him. Then Jesus called for the
children and said to the disciples, 'Let the children come to me. Don’t
stop them! For the Kingdom of God belongs to those who are like these
children. I tell you the truth, anyone who doesn’t receive the Kingdom
of God like a child will never enter it.'" </span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Don't be child<i>ish</i>; be child<i>like</i>. Be adultish. </span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-75540077212824069652014-10-03T03:29:00.000-04:002015-03-05T05:33:20.178-05:00Why Jay Begs Me to Watch More TV<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Due to some health issues, I tire easily, so I'm frequently stuck at home, alone. To cope with confinement, I read. Quite a lot. And sometimes cabin fever and random information are a dangerous combination.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Shortly after marriage, I read a book wherein a detective solved a crime by looking at the date stamped under the lid of the toilet tank, reasoning that people wouldn't put an older toilet in a newer house. Don't ask me how the age of the dwelling helped him solve the case because I don't remember. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">But I do remember being fascinated by that bit of trivia. It's no shock, I'm sure, that I promptly went into our Master bathroom, lifted the toilet tank lid, and looked at the date. I then realized that I lacked the strength to hold the hefty piece of ceramic.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me (calling Jay at work): Honey, I have good news and good news. First, I discovered that our house was indeed built in 1974 as evidenced by the date under the toilet tank lid. Isn't that clever?<br /><br />He: The date is on the deed. Why would we need to look under the toilet tank lid?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Um, well, to make sure that the deed wasn't forged?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He: You have trouble hanging onto a glass of water, so why would you try to lift the tank lid?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me: Yeah, that's a really good point; wish I'd thought of it. Um, but my other good news is that I've urged you to replace that toilet on the grounds that its harvest gold color is hideous. <i>(To see how hideous, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/10/landfill-of-free-home-of-brave.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) </i>But now you can feel good about replacing it for practical reasons. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />Jay (groaning): You broke the toilet? If you <i>had </i>to look under the lid, why didn't you just wait until I got home?<br /><br />Me: Um, because I'm me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I really had no other defense.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Then I read a book wherein one of the characters in the Old West needed a light source, so she ingeniously made a button lamp. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We live in an older neighborhood and sometimes our power goes out when it rains. Since we rarely replace our flashlight batteries, I thought it would be a good idea to practice making an alternative means of light. It was easy to wrap a scrap of cotton cloth around a button and tie it with thread. I put it on the base of our garlic roaster so the house would smell like an Italian grotto if there was any lingering odor trapped in the ceramic. I'm romantic that way. </span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhVfjoWFGKWmD325NMoTvSD5Cz_sdPun80Lf-9CIikrFxJrPiGEN8gFMBxhfPwFuKWhAHQB4dSWt2PJeJiBTJotS5I3HxAfGIFdCl8UuBqOhUrxpDstQ1exx0mvDd5gjkKOIko61uTSs/s1600/IMG_2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQhVfjoWFGKWmD325NMoTvSD5Cz_sdPun80Lf-9CIikrFxJrPiGEN8gFMBxhfPwFuKWhAHQB4dSWt2PJeJiBTJotS5I3HxAfGIFdCl8UuBqOhUrxpDstQ1exx0mvDd5gjkKOIko61uTSs/s1600/IMG_2013.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I covered the cloth with oil and proudly lit the button lamp.</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANGNz98yxG9-COFqt-FacL-EHHnoL-z0WwFBCBG4dDnq7MitpAS3fO0C3tQpQ0W249h_yEpEN2PkjCSjDzHdxigFxzYr83a-IjZJ5E98x1x2i9YfHws9SeMXsQmDK8y3x2Qh3D75Q3C4/s1600/IMG_2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANGNz98yxG9-COFqt-FacL-EHHnoL-z0WwFBCBG4dDnq7MitpAS3fO0C3tQpQ0W249h_yEpEN2PkjCSjDzHdxigFxzYr83a-IjZJ5E98x1x2i9YfHws9SeMXsQmDK8y3x2Qh3D75Q3C4/s1600/IMG_2020.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It burned beautifully, making me feel quite capable and homesteader-ish.</span><br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4S5fFe2ohoNJ_AJvkFeekUAAIky99y4i0w6Tz-JD87wAyZGOXEo28-TStLK9NHGeBLb4fpl8KwmdVtNYeTiohcNo0PDkonUsS-zX_wqQxXCinzoNZCLZjYa1Tp8rglmo7XodkERP7Vyk/s1600/IMG_2027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4S5fFe2ohoNJ_AJvkFeekUAAIky99y4i0w6Tz-JD87wAyZGOXEo28-TStLK9NHGeBLb4fpl8KwmdVtNYeTiohcNo0PDkonUsS-zX_wqQxXCinzoNZCLZjYa1Tp8rglmo7XodkERP7Vyk/s1600/IMG_2027.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It burned lower, and as Jay walked into the room, I suddenly realized two things. One, that buttons were made out of metal, bone, or glass a hundred years ago, and, two, that burning plastic buttons create toxic fumes. Oops.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Oddly, Jay was not impressed with my resourcefulness.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">And he was not amused with having to open all the windows in 31 degree weather to air out the house.</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;">(Note: Should you, too, feel compelled to try this, I'd advise you to use a quarter instead of a button. And make sure you have 100% cotton cloth since synthetic material will melt, not burn. Who says my blog isn't educational!)</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I also read that flint and steel could be used to start a fire. My mind raced. What if the power went out and we ran out of bread, peanut butter, and cereal? How would we fry an egg? (Never mind that we have a giant box of matches and a couple of lighters by the fireplace.) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I acquired some flint (don't ask where) and struck it upon steel to see if I could create a spark. It took several tries, but then a shower of sparkles lit up the room! I was thrilled!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jay (panicked): What are you doing!?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Seeing if I can start a fire with flint and steel. Like this! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(More sparks)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jay (shoving a stack of folded towels away from me): Stop that! Are you trying to burn down the kitchen?<br /><br />Me (shrugging): I just thought that one of us should know how to make fire without matches. What if there's a blizzard and the power goes out and no one can get to us for weeks and the only thing left to eat is raw eggs? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Jay: In North Carolina? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me (offended at his lack of enthrallment of my newly acquired ability): It could happen. And you'll thank me when you're eating cooked food solely because of my skills.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jay (rolling his eyes): Skills? Who are you, Napoleon Dynamite? And I know all about fire; I'm a firefighter.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Which means you know how to put fires <i>out, </i>not how <i>start</i> them. (Striking the flint for emphasis and relishing the drama of the ensuing fireworks.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jay (exasperated): Stop doing that in here! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Fine. I'll go practice over the tub. That should be safe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Jay (alarmed): No! You could catch the shower curtain on fire. Or the bath mats. Or towels. Or something. <i>Please</i> just give them to me. If we're ever in a survival situation, I have no doubt you'll discover fifty different ways to set things on fire. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Me (pleased): Why thank you, honey! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That was a compliment, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'd list more examples of how books have inspired me, but I'm in the middle of a story that explains how to sharpen a machete with a rock, and I want to practice. Jay will be thrilled with my knowledge if we're ever stranded in a jungle with a dull knife.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;">Jay just read the last paragraph, put his face in his hands, and groaned. I think he was overcome with profound gratitude at my initiative to teach myself survival skills. Isn't that sweet? </span></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Luke 12:35, 40) " Be dressed, ready for service, and keep your lamps burning, like a servant waiting for their master to return... You must also be ready because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect Him." </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="text Luke-12-35"><span class="woj">I'm ready and hope you are, too.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>To read why Jay has issues with me and open flame, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">here.</a></b></span></span></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-78687313234994809962014-10-01T00:50:00.001-04:002018-12-13T14:59:57.038-05:00Gift Gaff<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">One year my dad bought my mom a fishing reel for Mother's Day. She doesn't fish. And once Jay gave me juice boxes for my birthday. Not his best idea. But men are not the only ones who are gift-challenged. Our cat also lacked gift-giving skills.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">In the beginning of our relationship, she brought us dead voles. </span></span></span></span>She placed the first one gently on my pillow so that when I opened my eyes in the morning, its carcass was a few inches from my nose.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">My reaction made it clear that I was not blessed by her gift.</span></span></span><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">I found the second deceased vole outside of my bedroom door when my dad was visiting. I'd heard him walking past the room a few times that morning, so I
asked, "Dad, why in the world would you leave a dead rodent in my doorway?" </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">He answered in
surprise, "Oh, I thought that was a cat toy. I kicked it up and down the hall a few times trying to get the cat to chase it." </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">Splendid. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">Since I didn't play with (or eat) her deceased presents, our feline friend decided I preferred vibrantly healthy gifts. She cheerfully brought live moles, voles, mice, and lizards through the cat door and set them free to skitter throughout our house. <br /><br />Delightful.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ci4SExcNEsIbNWvVN9sjh_XCxfrSOOjydjU8fXSCWTeRrRJaUIXAw7LnLYDI28WUKb5kcu5bp9Ir64I5uHMuP-q1x5-ghGo3SsQQ-u_pMJuYHk7RPsvdfATEivWEI3tjeIqxcSoHoPE/s1600/Vole+pup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ci4SExcNEsIbNWvVN9sjh_XCxfrSOOjydjU8fXSCWTeRrRJaUIXAw7LnLYDI28WUKb5kcu5bp9Ir64I5uHMuP-q1x5-ghGo3SsQQ-u_pMJuYHk7RPsvdfATEivWEI3tjeIqxcSoHoPE/s1600/Vole+pup.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This mole pup was a bit startled to find himself on our foyer slate.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"> </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">I didn't mind the moles and voles so much because they're slow and easy to catch. </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent">But deer mice have cheetah-like reflexes. </span></span></span>One night, I chased one all over the house, frequently tripping on my full-length (and stretched-out) knit nightgown (it's like sleeping in a giant's t-shirt so I can't give it up). We were both spent and gasping when I finally cornered the deer mouse. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In a dash of desperation, he darted up my long sleeve.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Inside </i>my sleeve.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Inside my sleeve, to my shoulder, and down my back. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I
ran shrieking into the backyard, hoping he'd escape into the grass. My
nightgown was baggy, so I never knew where he was until I felt the brush of his furry back tickling my skin as he climbed around the inside of the gown. Anyone out at 2 AM would have thought I was doing a dance homage to the moon as I hopped around, squealing and slapping at my body. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On an unrelated note, does anyone want a free cat? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(I Peter 4:11a) "Do you have the gift of helping others? Do it with all the strength and energy that God supplies. Then everything you do will bring glory to God through Jesus Christ."</span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">To read about more unwelcome gifts from my pets, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/04/my-native-american-name-is-mighty.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />To read about the best gift to get a man, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/11/its-impossible-to-buy-for-men.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></b> </span></span><br />
<br />Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-80278894627885887352014-09-24T04:17:00.004-04:002015-02-26T02:33:34.066-05:00But She's a Dog (or The Fine Art of Refusing to Argue)<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I'd never owned a small-breed dog before Zoe, so, after we got her, I was surprised to learn that she ha<span style="font-family: inherit;">d</span> hair instead of fur. </span><span style="font-size: large;">That meant she had to be clipped regularly (hair won't stop growing at a set length like fur), and, since hair doesn't insulate well, she needed cold-weather clothes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, okay then. I found a place that sold discounted dog clothes and set out to persuade Jay that I <i>had </i>to buy them. But even after showing him copious amounts of hair vs fur data, he remained unconvinced. </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He (<span style="font-family: inherit;">slow</span>ly, as if I ha<span style="font-family: inherit;">ve</span> difficult<span style="font-family: inherit;">y comprehending <span style="font-family: inherit;">Engl<span style="font-family: inherit;">ish</span></span></span>): She doesn't need cloth<span style="font-family: inherit;">es. She</span>'s a <i>dog</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me (earnestly): </span><span style="font-size: large;">But because she was bred to have hair, she can't handle cold weather. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He (persistently): She's a <i>dog.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me (with a little tear): She shouldn't have to<i> suffer </i>because selective breeding ensured she doesn't have fur<span style="font-family: inherit;"> to <span style="font-family: inherit;">keep her warm.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He (rolling his eyes at the little tear):</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> She's a <i>dog.</i></span> I'm sure her <span style="font-family: inherit;">'</span>hair<span style="font-family: inherit;">'</span> will keep her warm, even in the snow.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">At this point, we could have argued until the most determined person wore the other person out. In this case, I knew that I was the most determined person (especially since <span style="font-family: inherit;">this issue </span>involved altruistic shopping), but since I don't like arguing with Jay, I decided to agree with him.</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me (relenting, with a sigh): You know, honey, you have a point. She <i>is </i>a dog.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He (<span style="font-family: inherit;">gratified</span>): Yes, she is.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me (agreeably): And, maybe, in spite of the research to the contrary, her body hair <i>will</i> keep her warm in the wind, rain, and snow. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He (nodding with satisfaction at my capitulation): I'm sure it will.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">(Long pause) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me (brightly): You know, sweetie, I just remembered from High School Biology that the human body is entirely covered in hair except for the palms, soles, and eyelids. <br /><br />He: It's <i>not </i>the same thing.<br /><br />Me (firmly):<i> </i>Hair is hair. If her hair can keep <i>her</i> warm, then your hair can keep <i>you </i>warm. From now on, the only thing you need is a loincloth, no matter what the weather.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />He: Now, listen---</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Me (happily): Think of the money we'll save when you stop wearing pants, shirts, sweaters, and coats!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He (shaking his head<span style="font-family: inherit;">, mumblin<span style="font-family: inherit;">g</span></span>): Oh, no. What <span style="font-family: inherit;">id<span style="font-family: inherit;">eas did I just put in her hea<span style="font-family: inherit;">d</span></span></span>?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Me </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">(<span style="font-family: inherit;">humb</span>ly): </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you, oh, wise <span style="font-family: inherit;">husband</span>, for setting me straight about this 'hair can keep a body warm in the winter' stuff. I was wrong; you were right. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(He rubs his face, g<span style="font-family: inherit;">roaning</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">.)</span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Me (<span style="font-family: inherit;">warmly mus</span>ing<span style="font-family: inherit;">)</span>: Think of how cute you two will look taking long walks in the snow--her in nothing but a bow, and you in not<span style="font-family: inherit;">hing but </span>skivvies.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He (<span style="font-family: inherit;">throwing his hands in the air</span>): <span style="font-family: inherit;">If you <i>p</i></span><i>romise</i> that you won't donate all my clothes while I'm at work, <span style="font-family: inherit;">then</span> you can get her a couple of shirts or sweaters or whatever.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Which was a silly thing to say since I wouldn't have donated <i>all </i>of his clothes<span style="font-family: inherit;">; </span>I would have left him some undies for <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">modesty's</span> sake</span>. But I do </span>love a man who <span style="font-family: inherit;">is willing to change his mind</span>, so I let <span style="font-family: inherit;">the comment</span> go.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Besides, <span style="font-family: inherit;">I was already<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>shopping!</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>Jay flatly<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>refused to walk the dog <span style="font-family: inherit;">while only wearing his boxers so I could take a phot<span style="font-family: inherit;">o to </span></span>illustrate this post, so, sadly, I can only show you p<span style="font-family: inherit;">icture</span>s of Zoe.</i></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvw-tTn3X48B_7Tc9x7-uPDnGz2Zv7rViIJTD75_qlPlSHWlEJ2aw4vpq8k5L8LuipCoST9fI9llPZdSiYjpQtLIK_uI1gKMdNEfXHLA34_CsQ6SMm2w95kXf3wnRf_thdxUJAiEi06w/s1600/76+Snow,+the+best+assessory+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvw-tTn3X48B_7Tc9x7-uPDnGz2Zv7rViIJTD75_qlPlSHWlEJ2aw4vpq8k5L8LuipCoST9fI9llPZdSiYjpQtLIK_uI1gKMdNEfXHLA34_CsQ6SMm2w95kXf3wnRf_thdxUJAiEi06w/s1600/76+Snow,+the+best+assessory+(2).JPG" height="256" width="320" /></a> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse of the day:</span></i> <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(Isaiah 61:10) "I delight greatly in the <span class="small-caps">Lord</span>; my soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of His righteousness</span>..." Which is the best attire in all circumstances.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><b>For more stories<span style="font-family: inherit;"> about Zoe (and/or Jay), cl<span style="font-family: inherit;">ick on</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/08/cone-of-comical-contentment.html" target="_blank">Co</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/08/cone-of-comical-contentment.html" target="_blank">mical Cone of Contentment</a>, <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/but-she-likes-it.html" target="_blank">But She Likes It!</a>, and <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/pranking-mommy.html" target="_blank">Pranking the Human</a>.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <br /><br />For another s<span style="font-family: inherit;">tory <span style="font-family: inherit;">about</span> when <span style="font-family: inherit;">Jay a<span style="font-family: inherit;">bruptly ch<span style="font-family: inherit;">anged his mind after I <span style="font-family: inherit;">quite</span> grac<span style="font-family: inherit;">ious</span>ly agreed with him, cli<span style="font-family: inherit;">ck <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/delectable-disagreement.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></b></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-71868017482581617082014-09-17T03:42:00.002-04:002014-10-08T07:42:29.147-04:00Dasterdly Directions-Southern Style<span style="font-size: large;">Another thing puzzling about the South--you can't find your way anywhere without a native guide. Here's what directions sound like down yonder:<br /><br />"Oh, sugar, it's so easy to get here. You go down Rocky River Road and pass Eddie's house. You remember Eddie with the old, blue pickup? Before you get to the Fire Station (Lord, bless those boys!), you turn right. After you pass that little church that gives the free hot dog lunches on Wednesdays (Those folks are sweet as marshmallow yams on Thanksgiving!), you'll see Lost Boy Road. (I wonder what happened to that poor, poor lost boy. Do you think they ever found him? Bless his heart.) Keep going until you get to that road that takes you to Bubba's Market. (Bubba's has the best pulled pork. Mm-mm, makes my mouth water.) Turn left. Then you'll get to a four-way stop of Hydrangea Church Road, Hydrangea Creek Road, Hydrangea Creek Church Road, and Hydrangea Hollow. You want Hydrangea Creek Road. After you pass the third magnolia tree, the name changes to Coonsville Road. Then you pass a big stump that looks like an owl scratching his armpit--that's where you turn in. The house is about a mile down. Now, there's only one lane, so if someone is coming, you have to back up to the main road. We won't get back until Henry John gets a deer, so, just let yourself in with the key in left boot on the front porch and make yourself at home. Just don't let the one-eyed raccoon in--he's charming as all get out, but he makes such a mess." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Just after Jay and I were married, my dad drove from the West to bring some of my things in a U-Haul and stayed a couple of weeks. Jay had to work on the first Sunday Dad was here, so Jay</span><span style="font-size: large;"> told us how to get to church. The directions were surprisingly easy to follow, and I was happy when we turned right off of Mallard Creek Church Road into our church's parking lot on time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After church, Dad and I logically tried to reverse the directions Jay gave us. However, when we turned left out of the church parking lot, to our surprise, we weren't on Mallard Creek Church Road but on Prosperity Church Road. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Confused, I called Jay, but the firefighters were out on a call, so he didn't answer. Then I saw a sign for Mallard Creek Road veering to the left and quickly told Dad to take it. It abruptly turned into Odell Road and then into Derita Road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, Jay answered his phone and said, casually, "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Mallard Creek Church Road's name changes into Prosperity Church Road two-thirds of the way down. And it sounds like you turned on Mallard Creek Road, not Mallard Creek <i>Church </i>Road. You have to turn around."<br /><br />We did. There were two intersecting signs: Mallard Creek Rd and Mallard Creek Ch Rd. Like people could remotely catch the "Ch" tacked on the end as they're hurtling down the road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We got on Mallard Creek <i>Ch </i>Rd and continued home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were making good time until we tried to find Back Creek Church Road. No such sign existed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After almost an hour of driving aimlessly (I say "aimless" only because I didn't want to admit that our aim was to find a road that apparently no longer existed), we got a hold of Jay again. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He replied, "Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. Back Creek Church Road is called Pavilion Boulevard if you're coming from the other direction." <i> </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Seriously?</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You might think that getting a GPS solved our location issues. Unfortunately, the South has driven our GPS (Michelle) to drink. Tipsy on moonshine, here are some directions she's given us:<br /><br />"In 20 feet, turn right, turn left." Not even "Sorry. The truth is that in 20 feet I have no idea which way you're supposed to turn."<br /><br />In the space of two seconds, she said, "Turn right, turn left, turn right," as we were driving over a bridge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we passed through a grove of tightly packed oak trees, she commanded, "Turn left now. Turn left now. Turn left now!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, we received a Social Security claim for our GPS Michelle citing disability caused by excessive and unjustifiable mental stress. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bless her heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><i>Verse of the day:</i> <span class="text Isa-30-19" id="en-NIV-18237"> (Isaiah 30:20-21) "As soon as He hears, He will answer you... Whe</span></span><span class="text Isa-30-21" id="en-NIV-18239" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">ther you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a Voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'”</span> </span><span class="text Isa-30-21" id="en-NIV-18239" style="font-size: large;">At least God's instructions are clear.</span><br />
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<span class="text Isa-30-21" id="en-NIV-18239" style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">For previous stories about the South, see <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/11/bald-peanuts.html" target="_blank">Bald Peanuts,</a> <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/03/ready-set-ready-again.html" target="_blank">Ready Set...Ready Again Set Again</a>, <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/07/poke-lawn.html" target="_blank">The Mysterious "Poke Lawn,"</a> and <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/08/going-postal-southern-style.html" target="_blank">Going Postal-Southern Style</a>. </span></b> </span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-33371552688209786722014-08-27T08:12:00.000-04:002014-08-27T18:43:52.963-04:00Comical Cone of Contentment<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The first year we had Caleb, I tried putting him in a costume<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">. Even though we assured him that he looked wonderful, he felt <span style="font-size: large;">embarrassed, shamed, demeaned, mortified, disgraced<span style="font-size: large;">, and <span style="font-size: large;">d<span style="font-size: large;">ebased. It went downhill from there.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVd5_1u219tcHrgJasQjC4_CB4zSB0X_uNDs_r8EhANH_gu3fFKQHjrNVz79qE7RFxE8cwMEz5E-yfXaWkFU7hRzUBC0v-b9-Uw3a7ds9ajIzM93wIgBO_BI12arXUNDCPMwWDhLr3pY/s1600/Oct+31,+2009+nephews,+embarrassed+Caleb,+Zoe,+Dad+&+cousins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVd5_1u219tcHrgJasQjC4_CB4zSB0X_uNDs_r8EhANH_gu3fFKQHjrNVz79qE7RFxE8cwMEz5E-yfXaWkFU7hRzUBC0v-b9-Uw3a7ds9ajIzM93wIgBO_BI12arXUNDCPMwWDhLr3pY/s320/Oct+31,+2009+nephews,+embarrassed+Caleb,+Zoe,+Dad+&+cousins.jpg" height="256" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">He found it just as humiliating as the medical cone collar he had to wear after a visit to the vet. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">(After taking a photo, of course) I haven't subjected him to attire since.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">A few of years later, Zoe joined our family. <span style="font-size: large;">S<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">he's a small breed mix with hair instead of fur, so she needs help to regulate her body temperature in cool weather. She loves her clothes, but I erroneously assumed that was only because they kept her warm.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUdDj97Vb0NzWPJG-VwTtJ-dkJZzdE1J-1Goz2Exf31NFdiXqNdleRpXJKom4-hCDnXad3oFIi6ajh8J2r2LOptsjve63loVpwnX_gomiTLJTo8Q2Rypl5PlvB9Ic9qS-xPPIeDwopJU/s1600/54+Green+Jumper.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtUdDj97Vb0NzWPJG-VwTtJ-dkJZzdE1J-1Goz2Exf31NFdiXqNdleRpXJKom4-hCDnXad3oFIi6ajh8J2r2LOptsjve63loVpwnX_gomiTLJTo8Q2Rypl5PlvB9Ic9qS-xPPIeDwopJU/s1600/54+Green+Jumper.JPG" height="320" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the summer, when I put away her little <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">shirts and sweaters, <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">she <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">ended up with a "hot spot" on her belly. The <span style="font-size: large;">vet gave us some ointment and told us to keep her in a medical collar for a<span style="font-size: large;">t least a week.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Caleb gave <span style="font-size: large;">Zoe</span> long, pitying glances<span style="font-size: large;"> when he saw the small, plastic cone in my hand. </span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I sorrowed as I placed it around her neck<span style="font-size: large;">. <span style="font-size: large;">"Mommy is <span style="font-size: large;">s</span>o sorry<span style="font-size: large;">, puppy! I know you <span style="font-size: large;">doggies </span>hate these things, but the mean doctor said you <i>have </i>to wear it until that spot heals. Please don't mope bec<span style="font-size: large;">ause it will make Mommy so sad<span style="font-size: large;">,</span>" I gushed<span style="font-size: large;"> (along with</span> other id<span style="font-size: large;">iotic things that one says <span style="font-size: large;">to a dog<span style="font-size: large;"> when they don't have <span style="font-size: large;">human children).</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">Zoe waited patiently until I attached the last sna<span style="font-size: large;">p of the cone.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">I p<span style="font-size: large;">ressed my lips together and choked back a <span style="font-size: large;">sympathetic sob as <span style="font-size: large;">she adjusted to the new sensation. <span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Which was entirely unneeded since </span><span style="font-size: large;">she jumped off the bed and pranced around the house, gleefully tossing her head, like, "Look at my modern Elizabethan collar! Finally, I have something really <i>cool</i> to wear." <br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To this day, it's one of her favorite things.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Philippians 4:11-13) "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret to be content in <span style="font-size: large;"><i>every </i>situation...I can do all this through Christ who gives me strength."</span></span> Contentment is a choice, even in a plastic cone. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;">For another Zoe story, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/04/pajama-pants.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-34177085856234911652014-08-20T06:15:00.001-04:002015-02-01T15:19:26.545-05:00Postal, Southern Style<span style="font-size: large;">There's another thing I find curious about the South. The mail.<br /><br />On lovely days, the mail either isn't delivered at all or it is delivered late. Sometimes after sundown. After watching the mail truck pull away at 10 PM one night, I asked Jay about it. He shrugged and answered (as if I should have easily figured this out on my own), "It was a good day for fishin'." <br /><br />It's no better when the overcast days of fall arrive because then it's hunting season. I do a jig whenever mail actually arrives. Even if it smells like gunpowder and has a few duck feathers stuck to it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I know it's a stereotype that Southerners are nosy, ahem, I mean <i>interested,</i> but<i> </i>I was surprised to discover when I moved here that this "interest" included my personal mail. Many of my packages were opened before they were delivered. Nothing was ever taken, but the items were examined (I'm sure with, "Well, butter my biscuit, ain't this just the cutest thing you ever did see, Jenny Sue?") and carefully put back. I haven't complained because I know I'll just hear a surprised, "Well, darlin', we only wanna make sure no one's sendin' you bombs. It's part of Southern hospitality. You'll get used to it, sugar." </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once they helped themselves to a complimentary service card from a car lot advertisement. </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">If they took it to the dealership, they were entered into a drawing for a free car. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rquQV0iqcdMtLcrE_Wj8Qzfu3988LMKPJAt4Yp6hdN_mcbpvz-V43EZew8Eh96TXEav9jzj7GcLdFb3IugNbph4Rm-jd5I2_K9b6C4MXHIKxyaZIK05kOmVqzGVmmzGQYB1CTEbtr1M/s1600/Coupon+cut+out+cropped+TU+no+phone+%23.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rquQV0iqcdMtLcrE_Wj8Qzfu3988LMKPJAt4Yp6hdN_mcbpvz-V43EZew8Eh96TXEav9jzj7GcLdFb3IugNbph4Rm-jd5I2_K9b6C4MXHIKxyaZIK05kOmVqzGVmmzGQYB1CTEbtr1M/s1600/Coupon+cut+out+cropped+TU+no+phone+%23.JPG" height="398" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">We know they didn't win because Southern </span>manners would have required them to send a thank you note. Of course, given the track record of this Post Office, the thank you card might be crammed among bobbins in a tackle box and won't be delivered until next spring (with a fish hook hanging off of it).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They also occasionally take our coupons. They don't tear them off so that I could blame the sorter; they cut them neatly with scissors and then dutifully deliver the ads as if I'd have some use for them without the discount code.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Nus33yih37d2tq-gDGRH8mDuRgYgFaFCvDRSEkqDCTeVwgVM45BduqHHEBORGMJLL8dzmoPjqgdF6XKI7rA5wh7wH5XLnZAUougwML9RIcf3PxtfqTOHROqdiGD813dZDa_vRa-ZsbY/s1600/Coupon.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Nus33yih37d2tq-gDGRH8mDuRgYgFaFCvDRSEkqDCTeVwgVM45BduqHHEBORGMJLL8dzmoPjqgdF6XKI7rA5wh7wH5XLnZAUougwML9RIcf3PxtfqTOHROqdiGD813dZDa_vRa-ZsbY/s1600/Coupon.JPG" height="395" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Good to know I could have had 30% off and free shipping....<br /><i>if </i>I still had the coupon code!</b></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I can hear the Post Office conversation in my head. "Eulla Mae, here's a coupon for Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was reckoning to get me some new sheets. D'ya think she'd mind a-tall if I borrowed it?" <br /><br />"Why, she'd be tickled as a hound dog with two noses, Betty Jo! That's just bein' <i>neighborly.</i> Nobody minds that."<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Isaiah 48:17-18, 20) "</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="text Isa-48-17">I am the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> your God,</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Isa-48-17">who teaches you what is good for you</span></span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Isa-48-17">and leads you along the paths you should follow</span></span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks">...</span></span><span class="text Isa-48-20">Sing out this message!</span><span class="indent-1"><span class="indent-1-breaks"> </span><span class="text Isa-48-20">Shout it to the ends of the earth!" </span></span></span>Singing or shouting a message might be a tad more effective down here than trying to send it through the Post Office. I'm just sayin'.</span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-77675355113474468062014-08-13T09:39:00.000-04:002017-02-11T04:25:44.548-05:00My Tatterdemalion (Yes, It's A Real Word)<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">There's no denying that my <span style="font-family: inherit;">husband Jay is a handsome man. I<span style="font-family: inherit;">n fact, he </span>is </span>frequently hit on </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">when we go out together. My favorite line was from the woman who cooed to him, "What magazine cover did you just walk off of?" as we approached her counter. (Prompting me to gleefully tell his firefighters call him Captain Coverboy--he's barely forgiven me for that.) </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But the ladies' interest in him doesn't concern me because I know he's <i>always </i>ignored when he's out alone. Why? Because </span>if I don't hand him clothes for the day, he looks like he crawled out of a dumpster. There's even a word for him:<i> Tatterdemalion, n. </i>a person dressed in ragged clothing. (My blog is <i>so </i>educational.)</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I'm not cri</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">ticizing his love of comfort because I live in <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/04/pajama-pants.html" target="_blank">pajama pants.</a></span><span style="font-size: large;"> But only at home. Besides, they fit, they aren't threadbare, and they don't have holes or stains. Jay, on the other hand, wears (out in public, no less) attire he's kept since 1986 and things that his father (who is 79-years-old) and brother (who is 4" taller than Jay) have discarded.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've tried reasoning with him. "Sweetie, face it. You're not going to hit a growth spurt at your age to fit into your bother's hand-me-downs; unless you're applying for a job as a scarecrow, they're too baggy. And if something is too unstylish for a retiree, then you, my dear, certainly can't pull it off."<br /><br />"But these clothes are still good," he protests.<br /><br />"You mean, they <i>function</i>. They're definitely not <i>good</i>." I answer.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Normally, I don't care what he wears when he's running errands without me. But the day he was headed to the jewelers to get my bracelet repaired, I stopped him and pointed to the foyer mirror. He hadn't showered or shaved. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He'd squeezed into a grubby coat (from his teen years) that was so tight it couldn't be zippered shut. It revealed an old, over-sized flannel shirt that he'd tucked into a pair of paint-stained work pants. The pants were a few sizes too big, so he'd gathered them at the waist with a belt like a hobo. Muddy boots and a</span> black knit hat completed his look. <br /><br />"Honey," I said, patiently, "people will either think that you're a homeless man looking for a bathroom or that you're about to rob the place. Either option is detrimental to the jewelry business. They're good people; I can't let you do this to them."<br /><br />When he was done laughing at his reflection, he changed into clean khakis, a button-down shirt, and loafers. So, cops were not called when he arrived. (That day, anyway.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">We had friends over for a potluck dinner one weekend. When most had left, I shook my head in despair at my sweet husband and said, "I know they're friends who love you anyway, but you could wear something nicer than a stained, threadbare t-shirt when you welcome people into your home."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">He defended his wardrobe choice with, "Well, I knew I'd be outside at the grill, and I thought it might rain." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">"I had no idea your t-shirts couldn't get wet," I gasped. "All this time I've been washing them in water!"<br /><br />He smirked at my clever remark (that was pretty quick, wasn't it?), but stubbornly claimed, "This shirt is still good."<br /><br />I put my finger in a small hole and gently tugged. The shirt immediately parted like the Red Sea in front of Moses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Believe it or not, the man insisted (wait for it...), "It's <i>still </i>good; now it's just ventilated!" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">(Psalm 30:11b, 12b) "</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-30-11">You have taken away my ragged clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy... </span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-30-11"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span class="indent-1"><span class="text Ps-30-12"><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> my God, I will give thanks to You forever."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">Our handsome hero, Captain Coverboy, </span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;">cleverly disguises himself as his alter-ego...Split-Pants Man!</span></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"> </span></b><br />He still hasn't thrown these pants out, but I refuse to sew a giant patch over the crotch. In the winter, I'll let him wear the pants as a hat-scarf combo because I know gorgeous women will only approach him to point the way to the nearest soup kitchen. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Disclaimer: For those worried about Jay's fashion sensitivity--he has none. He read this story with a snicker and assured me that plenty of men would agree that his clothes are "still good." If that's the case, then we know why God Himself said, "It's not good for man to be alone" (Gen 2:16). I agree, God, I agree.<br /><br /><b>For a story about my pajama pants issues, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/04/pajama-pants.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <br /><br />For a story on how I convinced Jay to quit bugging me about having too many pairs of shoes (as if there could be such a thing as too many shoes), click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/shoe-drill.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </b></span></i></span></div>
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Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-70116331155199020742014-07-30T01:39:00.005-04:002014-08-10T04:10:52.963-04:00(From Jay) If the Shoe Fits, WEAR It Already<span style="font-size: large;">Pamela is normally a responsible person. But she has some blind spots (see my posts about her issues with <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">fire, counters,</a> and <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/she-came-she-saw-almost-post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">power tools</a>.) One of them is an aversion to wearing shoes on our property.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She has <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/shoe-drill.html" target="_blank">footwear of every conceivable type</a>, so her persistence in being barefoot 98% of the time drives me nuts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Especially if she's outside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Worse, if I'm building something. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I
want her help because she has a good eye and great ideas, but I'm a
First Responder firefighter, so I know freak accidents occur with
surprising frequency.<br /><br />She doesn't always handle my safety rules well. Here's a typical conversation:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Pamela (coming into the work shed, all business): Hey, Jay, Rose keeps knocking over the <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/05/daylight-nightlight.html" target="_blank">chickens' nesting box</a>. I figured out a solution. If you cut this piece of wood on a 45 degree angle...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: Why aren't you wearing shoes?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She (puzzled by the question): It's hot.<br /><br />Me: I don't care if it's hot; it's not safe to be around all these tools without shoes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She (contemplating her bare feet, then shrugging): It's hot.<br /><br />Me: You could step on a nail or a staple.<br /><br />She (wiggling her toes): It's hot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: You could get splinters in your feet.<br /><br />She (patiently): It's hot. (pause) And I have cute toenail polish on.<br /><br />Me (patiently): It's nice. (pause) And get some shoes on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She (stepping back): Now I'm on the ramp. I'm not in the shed, so I don't need shoes.<br /><br />Me: Pamela!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She
(back to business): If we angle a piece of wood this size to fit
between the top and the shelf, it will stabilize the nesting box but
also allows us to remove it for cleaning. Here, let me show you.<br /><br />Me: Stop! You're not coming in here without shoes.<br /><br />She
(rolling her eyes): I'm just going to step on that one spot. It's
clear. There isn't a nail, staple or splinter on that spot.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9A9FgjOy4tdwR_LbNAcW6Lty-XsjKBcQHSzANslL-0ylWY4Dbia7Vb8mnC1ScCAwjuwNBzHEpZ6CWFrOK3bEkY_WGeM5YW7iCbhOGJQ7pHByettC-6aKDd6-tJkvYqVa-uR05yiU66U/s1600/FEET%2521.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM9A9FgjOy4tdwR_LbNAcW6Lty-XsjKBcQHSzANslL-0ylWY4Dbia7Vb8mnC1ScCAwjuwNBzHEpZ6CWFrOK3bEkY_WGeM5YW7iCbhOGJQ7pHByettC-6aKDd6-tJkvYqVa-uR05yiU66U/s400/FEET%2521.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: No.<br /><br />She: The chickens come in here without shoes.<br /><br />Me: If you sprout feathers, I'll reconsider.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She (marching through the doorway): I'm an adult. You can't tell me what to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Me (throwing her over my shoulder): Fine. I won't tell you.<br /><br />She (yelling at my back): Illegal use of the fireman's carry! I'm reporting you to the Chief!</span><span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I deposit her on the deck and walk away. A minute later she comes back to the shed.<br /><br />She: I'm wearing shoes. Are you happy now? Okay, if you cut right here, this piece of wood will fit right in the...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me (folding my arms): Those are sandals. You need shoes.<br /><br />She: Sandals <i>are</i> shoes.<br /><br />Me: You know what I mean.<br /><br />She
(patiently): Darling, you said I should put on shoes so I wouldn't step
on a nail or staple. Please explain to me how I could step on either
with the top of my feet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me: No.<br /><br />She (triumphantly): Because you <i>can't!</i> I win!<br /><br />Me: Whatever. You're still not coming in the shed without shoes.<br /><br />She (wrinkling her nose): Your work boots give you a sock tan.<br /><br />Me: Yes, I have tan legs and white feet. White feet without holes, punctures or splinters. You need real shoes.<br /><br />She (trying one last tactic): We're married. That means that half of the shed is mine.<br /><br />Me: The back half is yours. You have to go through <i>my</i> half to get to <i>your</i> half, and <i>my</i> half requires shoes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Enough said.<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Verse of the day: </span></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Isaiah
52:7-8) "How lovely on the mountain are the feet of those who bring
Good News, announcing peace, proclaiming news of salvation, saying 'Our
God Reigns!'" </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Note from Pamela: </i><i>I</i> think a more appropriate verse would be Song of Solomon 7:1, "How beautiful are your sandaled feet, oh queenly maiden."<br /><br /><b><i><span style="font-size: small;">To read a similar story, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/shoe-drill.html" target="_blank">here.</a> </span></i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span style="font-size: small;">To read about how Pamela gives Jay gray hair climbing on counters and randomly starting fires, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/08/post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <br />Or by trying to use power tools, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/09/she-came-she-saw-almost-post-from-jay.html" target="_blank">here</a>. <br />Or by reading (yes, reading can be hazardous to your house if Pamela does the reading), click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2014/03/why-jay-begs-me-to-watch-more-tv.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span></i></b></span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7026160431750513426.post-60749096899498854752014-07-17T01:32:00.000-04:002017-05-08T17:26:42.645-04:00The Mysterious "Poke Lawn"<span style="font-size: large;">If you ever come to the South, expect to have conversations like this:<br /><br />Waitress (in a strong Southern accent): Well, aren't y'all just cute as two pigs rollin' in the mud. Here yer menus. The special today is poke lawn with grits 'n greens. Here's sum biscuits, and I'll fetch yer sweet tay while y'all decide what to order.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me (watching her leave): But I don't want sweet tea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jay: Too bad. Don't even ask for unsweetened tea in the South. You sound like a Yankee.<br /><br />Me: A Yankee? I came here from the Southwest! <br /><br />He: Doesn't matter. If you're not from the Deep South, you're a Yankee.<br /><br />Me (sighing): Whatever. Hey, what's this poke lawn she mentioned? Is that some kind of a salad?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He (absently reviewing the menu): What? Poke lawn? I guess you could get it on a salad. Just ask.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Me (wallowing in a bite of buttery biscuit): Why would I want grass on a salad? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He: Chicken and dumplings look good. Wait, what are you talking about?<br /><br />Me: The lawn. My parents grow special grass for their cats. Is that what it's like? Or is it like wheatgrass?<br /><br />He: Is what like what?<br /><br />Me (patiently): Is poke lawn some kind of nutritious grass that people eat in The South or what is it?<br /><br />He: Grass?<br /><br />Me: Is 'poke' a special kind of grass that makes up the poke lawn?<br /><br />He (laughing): Not 'poke lawn.' She said <i>pork loin.</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Verse of the day: </i>(Ephesians 4:29) Don't use foul or abusive language. Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them." </span>Note to our sweet waitress: changing "pork loin" to "poke lawn" is neither helpful nor encouraging. But I'll forgive you because of those crazy-good biscuits. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b><span style="font-size: small;">To read about the time I was inexplicably offered Bald Peanuts, click <a href="http://pamelanastase.blogspot.com/2013/11/bald-peanuts.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</span></b></i> </span>Nastase Nutinesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18053561332308157480noreply@blogger.com2