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In the back of a carrier there was a small young cat, trying to be invisible. I felt sorry for her because in addition to being terrified, she was somewhat homely looking. The cats in the other carriers were pawing … Continue reading
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This week I was nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by three different bloggers. All three are bloggers I follow and admire and I was touched. After three rounds of the snoopy dance, I tried to research the award. I … Continue reading
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The beloved husband is a very accomplished musician. You know what that means! He has stuff – guitars, amplifiers, lots of boxes with switches that do things, picks, straps, sheet music and of course, stuff with Gretsch or Martin Guitar … Continue reading
Nothing strikes fear in aging baby boomers as the words “old people smell.” You know what it is. Maybe you smelled it in your grandparent’s home or the home of an elderly neighbor. (For purposes of this blog, elderly always means considerably older than me.) I remember it in my old Aunt Mary’s house – musty, slightly like perspiration, old clothes, like an attic.
It doesn’t come from being dirty. My sister-in-law’s parent’s home had it too. Maybe a contributing factor is wearing sweaters and wool clothes too long between cleanings but it’s not from not bathing.
I don’t know when it starts. It’s probably like other house smells. It starts so gradual that you never know you have it. With three cats, I always worry that my house smells like cats. Not enough to get rid of the cats but enough to buy candles, plug-ins, the reed thingies in the bottle – you name it, if it promises to smell good, I buy it. In our last renovation we built a room I call the “cat bathroom.” Yep, it’s enclosed with a cat door and has an exhaust fan and it’s located in the basement. Don’t let the basement part fool you, it is an upscale cat potty!
But I am not convinced so I ask unsuspecting visitors, “Does it smell like cats in here?” What good-natured visitor would tell me the truth? Of course I always pick visitors with pets or people like my brother who can’t smell anything.
If I wanted the truth, I would ask a child. They have a way of blurting out the most vivid truth in words that are not subtle. My grandniece Karen once told me my house stinks. Just like that. “Your house stinks.” Fortunately, I was considerably younger (so I wasn’t worrying about old people smell) and I happened to be frying cabbage at the time. At this point, she is too old to be that blunt or truthful so there is no point in asking her about the cats. Oh, yes, she also has cats.
Of course, maybe I really don’t want to know. Maybe it’s in the genes. My mother’s house never smelled of old people and she lived to see 75. Her house had wonderful cooking smells almost all the time. Maybe that’s the answer! Cook more, sweat less and don’t wear wool!
Condiments! I am all about them. At any given time there are six mustards in my refrigerator and none of them are the mellow yellow kind. There is hot and spicy; sweet and hot (my fav); sweet and spicy (that’s different from the previous one); horseradish mustard; coarse ground; and of course, Dijon. There is also ketchup, dill ranch (for the beloved husband whose taste buds are too delicate for anything with a kick), pickle relish and a bunch of others. I wouldn’t even consider eating a sandwich without them – sometimes one condiment, sometimes multiples. I have been known to forget the meat!
Last year a new kind of tap-room opened locally and my attachment to condiments reached a new level. We have a vinegar and oil tap-room. (http://www.seasonstaproom.com/ – Visit for the recipes!) When you visit, they have these barrels of infused balsamic vinegar and olive oils and you can move from one to the next and taste before you buy. One my first visit, I walked out with six bottles of vinegar – one of them was dark chocolate balsamic vinegar. Now before you wrinkle your nose, it doesn’t taste like Hershey’s chocolate. It is not a blatant strong chocolate flavor (not that I have anything against that). It is just a very pleasant deep-flavored balsamic. Maybe mole sauce would be a good comparison. Not sweet but nice.
There are two people in my house. The beloved husband with the tender taste buds is not a vinegar fan. I had no idea what I would do with all this tasty vinegar. Then I started to put it on everything. Did you know you can put a little puddle on mashed potatoes? Yum! Works well with most vegetables. Marinades meat and oh, yes, salads too.
There is always a bottle on the dinner table. You never know what I will put it on next — delicious on bread, to marinate fruit, the list is endless. Beloved husband just rolls his eyes.
He also thinks I should go to meetings. “Hi, my name is Kate and I am a vinegarholic. I can’t keep my hands off the bottle.”
I love them all. My favorite changes from time to time although I LOVE the dark cherry. I also have blueberry, strawberry, lemon (really yummy with meats and salads), lavender (I didn’t think I would like that but what can I say, I am weak), 18-year-old balsamic (this is probably the sweetest one), grapefruit and premium white. I have some friends who encourage and buy as much or maybe more, so I am not alone. There is a whole cult of vinegar people out there who sneak it in all kinds of foods!
There was a time when “tap room” had a whole different meaning. Oh what a difference 30 years makes. I wonder which flavor would work best on a hot dog?
This blog is dedicated to my friend Bettie, who has even more shoes than I do!
According to my mother, I flew out of the womb, yelling, “Shoes, I need shoes!” That may be a slight exaggeration but my fascination with shoes started early. I refused to walk barefoot as a child. I liked my feet covered. Some would say adorned. A little sparkle always caught my eye. I was also attracted to red shoes. For school – a stodgy parochial school where I wore uniforms — my practical mother tried to put me in Maryjanes but I clamored for really cool penny loafers with a shiny new penny. Then I had to have red sneakers for play.
When I went to high school, sneakers were the rage. I had them in several different colors including a pink plaid pair that I just loved. I believe that is the only shoe I ever wore out. As a younger woman, I wore what we called “spikes.” I am guessing they were about 3 inches high with pointy toes. And don’t forget the beloved platform shoes. What I love best is that they come back every ten years or so. I never throw mine out!
They make the best styles for women who can wear really high heels. Today, I see actresses wear “stilettos.” Descriptions have them at 5 inches or higher. How can anyone walk on those? My feet just aren’t long enough! I have enough trouble with a 2 inch heel which is the absolute highest I can go. Somehow they always have an orthopedic look to them — something my mother would wear. That doesn’t stop me from buying lots of them! Last year the beloved husband made a 6 foot high cabinet to house my fabulous collection (of mostly orthopedic looking footwear). To be sure the cabinet was the correct size, I inventoried my “collection,” measured and sketched out what the cabinet dimensions would need to be. Oops! Too big for my enormous walk-in closet! We could buy another house or…….
I settled on a cabinet for the “in-season” shoes which numbered fairly close to 70. I would need to box and store the out-of-season treasures. Now keep in mind that, like most people, I only have two feet. If summer is from April until the end of September that is 183 days. Simple math says that I would only wear each pair 2.6 days. At that rate it would take me three decades to “wear out” a pair.
For comparison, my beloved husband has about four pair. Six, if you count his ratty gardening shoes. He actually has been known to wear out a pair and NEED to replace them. Needing shoes isn’t in my vocabulary. I just WANT them. Red ones (which never match anything because they are too orange or too blue), purple ones, the standards and of course the funky ones that are never comfortable. Why is it that the most beautiful shoes hurt? It must be written in a book somewhere!
I think I buy shoes to soothe myself after a hard day or maybe in place of a spa day. It always does the trick. My problem is not that I have too many pair; it’s that the year doesn’t have enough days!
Legal Disclaimer – if YOU are a grey head this does not apply to you. It only applies to other grey heads who are not near as nice as you are.
Did you know that Pennsylvania is the second “oldest” state in the nation? The aging population is second only to Florida. I firmly believe that at least 95% of those folks live in my area. Since I have had the freedom to shop during the day, I have found them shuffling in places they should not be. (That would be anywhere I need to be.) I visited our local farmers’ market on a Thursday morning. It was jammed. I thought there was a fire sale on vegetables! Everyone was doing some sort of orthotic shuffle, some using carts as a walker. Not a good idea as they can’t see what’s in front of them. I had my hips bashed a couple of times and my toes run over (note to self – steel-tipped shoes for the farmers’ market). It seems that when you get older you do not need to be polite or apologize for nearly killing someone. Everyone just takes it in stride.
They pinch, squash and bruise the produce. They elbow in front of you and then act innocent…”were you in line? Oh, I didn’t realize that.” I most enjoy the loving couples. In a way, they are cute and endearing, a lot like a pair of teenagers who just discovered body parts. I often wonder if they treated each other so well when they were younger. Probably not. The outfits are a bit wild – you would be surprised at what works (or doesn’t) with orthotic shoes and walkers. Hats are big too. Men seem to prefer what is called a “flat hat.” That’s the correct name because Wikipedia said so. It’s the one where the part that sits on the head is smooshed over the brim. Golfers often wear them. No one under 80 does.
Driving near them is an adventure. They drive BIG cars where their heads are just little bumps above the seats. Their maximum speed is 25 mph (often in the passing lane); they turn left on red; and putz just enough so I miss the green light while they continue to cruise on their merry way. My car cannot drive that slowly! That speed is between gears. The poor car wants me to speed up or stop. There are no other choices.
Personally, I don’t intend to be a grey head, at least as long as Clairol is a functioning business and I can squeeze my toes into (somewhat) fashionable shoes. I do intend to wear a lot of purple and maybe a hat!
I hate buying underwear. The days of buying leopard print bikinis (yes, I KNOW bikinis are considered old-fashioned these days) with cute, matching bras are long gone. They don’t make them in orthopedic versions and I gave up on having a clean matching set at any given time. These days I buy a beige tone that never matches the other beige tones I have and of course, the black set for…well…black clothes. If they sold them by the case I would buy them that way. There is no creativity or excitement. It’s just something you need like white athletic socks for sneakers. Basics – like flour and sugar or air and water. I only buy them when I need them.
This was a very hot summer on the east coast — hotter than we have had for a long while. Since I spent more time at home, I not only had two-shower days but in some cases three-shower days. That can make a person run through a lot of clean underwear. I decided to use my 20% off coupon to fill up the drawer. It was either that or buy the Bullet blender which I really don’t need. After all, you can’t waste a 20% off coupon. It’s just not right.
After you purchase new underwear, you wash it and put it at the bottom of the pile (Mom always said you rotate your undies so they don’t get stale – I am not sure what stale underwear looks like but I am not taking a chance). They must wait their turn to get to the top of the pile and today was the day! Today I finally got to wear the first of the new stuff I bought three weeks ago.
Wow, a brand new pair of underwear is a wonderful sensual experience – so soft, good fit (why do underwear shrink?), no pilled fabric or pulls, clothes side over nicely. It was a bright shade of beige, different from all my other beiges. I must admit, I reveled in the luxury for a full ten minutes before I ate breakfast and trudged off. Within an hour, it was all over. The bloom was off the rose and the excitement was over but just for today. There are two more new pair hiding in that drawer, waiting to make my day!
I have always wanted to write. When I sort of retired, I started to write about observations, transitions, life, goofy things, whatever. Then I would email them to unsuspecting friends who were way too nice to tell me to knock it off. Someone suggested that I start a blog so I could post and people could read or not read. Sounds like a great idea. So how do you do that?
Well you need fun titles, more passwords than I can remember, twitter accounts (what is a twitter?), signs ups, registrations, Flickr, Google accounts, battery backup, external hard drive (don’t want to lose anything!) access to free photos, helpful friends and a photo of yourself. (If you can sing this to the tune of the current Target back-to-school commercial you can get an idea of how overwhelming it can be. You are fortunate as I don’t know how to make or download YouTube clips…yet!)
Selecting a title was a big deal. It needs to fun but professional, interesting but neutral and of course be reflective of who I am…..whatever that means. After three painful days, I threw a dart on a list of suggestions and entered that in the template.
About that photo…I hate photos. Even when I think I look ok, the photo says it isn’t so. I had the beloved husband take a few shots with his camera – 400 to be exact. Here were the instructions:
Now I have 400 pictures of me. Good grief! Next step is to ask beloved husband if he can airbrush, crop and make it spiffy. After all, he has Photoshop. After an hour of reviewing the photos with him (and making no decisions at all) he left me to my own devices. Wonder of wonders! I found I, too, have Photoshop which has a very nice tool called ‘healing brush’ that whisks away the wrinkles! Wish they had that in real life. Crop, crop, airbrush, shazzam! Keep in mind that the photo is as big as a thumbnail so it doesn’t really matter anyway.
In the past week (which is the total life of my blog thus far) my life has been consumed with decisions, learning new things, exploring, figuring out how to link different sites, calls to friends, an occasional margarita (that’s for medicinal purposes only)…..everything but writing. Now if I can only find time to write!
I have heard this phrase more times in the past two months or so than I care to admit. Recently a teacher who has every summer off asked me the same question. It is always said with a tone. Is it envy? Curiosity? (Does anyone really care what I do all day? Really, I am not that exciting.) Or is it just disapproval as the speaker would use the time so much more effectively than I? On one hand it would appear that I have nine or more hours a day — so where does it go? After six weeks of part-time retirement, my project list is just as large and very little if anything is crossed off. Here are some things that I have done or experienced:
Now for those of you who are wondering what wonderful things I plan to do, here they are:
Views and Mews by Coffee Kat 