Love February - It's An Excuse To Wear My Heart Jewelry

Just A Little Maui!

 Old Sugar Mill

 Cliche Footprints In Sand

 Fun In The Surf

 Lovely Lunch

 That Purple Stuff Is A Relative Of Taro, Mashed.  Yum?

Maui In The Morning

What The Heck Is Wrong With Me?

Anyone who knows me knows that I rarely watch the news.  (And never at night - what's the benefit to going to sleep every night feeling badly?)   I can't watch endless news reports of terrible tragedies that give no hint of anything I can do to help.  That's not how I process things.  I only had the news on today because there is a Tornado Watch in effect until 7 pm and my other choice was watching the soap opera that has the weather watch running at the bottom of the screen.  (I think I'll get one of those Weather Band Radios.)
So I know they show the clip from the old Mary Tyler Moore show where she is at the funeral of Chuckles the Clown who died from having his elephant trample him and suddenly can't keep from laughing, as an example of how normal it is to get your emotional responses jumbled up - but that doesn't make me feel much better.
Anyhow - as I was watching the news this morning this very serious newswoman was reporting on that horrible nightclub fire in Brazil where a pyrotechnic display went wrong and over 200 people were killed.  She was reporting that the band grabbed fire extinguishers and tried to put out the fire.  I was so overwhelmed by the sadness that I was heading for the remote control to change the channel when she said that "sadly, one of the band members was killed when he re-entered the night club to save" (I stopped to find out who was so important to him that he would risk his life like this - thinking of my daughter's husband rushing to find her in the smoke), and at the point where I am so close to tears that I am looking for the Kleenex, she finishes with. "his accordion".  And I (there is no other word for this sound) guffawed.  Just for a second.  Normal or not, I felt horrible.  I might just post this for an hour or two, to use the cathartic effect of the blog and see if I feel better.  Remember the bug on the toilet seat?  Just writing about it made me realize I'd given that memory way too much importance.

Good Times!

Sometimes when I go to the Goodwill, I know exactly what I want.  This time I was looking for something to wear in warm weather.  I almost passed up this Chico's Silk Turtleneck and Grey Sweater, but they were both half price and nearly new.  They are the perfect base for one of my favorite necklaces.(from Banana Republic).  So I wore them to the Tulsa Airport on my way to that warm Hawaiian weather.
My daughter Amanda emailed me yesterday to be sure we got back to Tulsa OK - and to chide me (don't you love that term - it's the equivalent of a nudge) for ignoring my blog while I was in Hawaii.  What can I say - the Beaches were magnificent and the Internet wasn't.

And the food was so good - this was our lunch at Mama's on Maui.  Save your money for a meal at Mama's if you go to Maui - it's the one that you'll remember when you get home.  You'll find locals and tourists eating there.

Honeymoon Salad - Lettuce Alone

Knock, Knock!  Who's There?  Lettuce.  Lettuce, Who?  Lettuce Alone, We're On Our Honeymoon
Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a fan of trendy lettuce.  If you ever give me my choice of what lettuce to have, it will be Head Lettuce, specifically the green parts.  (Not the white parts, which my family has long believed to be deadly.)  One of my cousins, Jill, and I discussed at length how this came to be coming from such an Epicurean family as ours.  To start out with, all manner of edible greens grow wild in Southern California and when served the trendiest of lettuces in the fanciest of establishments, all I see are lawn clippings and weeds.  (I remember my mother picking this and that out of the yard and declaring it Salad.)  And then there are the two main reasons:
1) Head lettuce was seldom served in our house and it was never the salad.  It was the garnish to the monthly dinner of Tacos.  It didn't have to be tediously torn into bite sized bits, (never cut lettuce, we were told, although this appears to be insupportable by science), but could be shredded easily with a knife.
2) It was always my job to wash the lettuce and Leaf Lettuce (and Spinach, which we ate raw at least a decade before anyone else would), and was pretty dirty stuff in those days.  First you have to wash out the sink, then you separated the leaves and swished them around in the water, draining and swishing until the water looked clean.- at least three times.  With head lettuce, you simply cut out the core (now I just smack the cord end on the counter and it breaks right out) and stick it under the faucet - turn it over and drain the water out.  Good Times!

Cast Iron Beats Teflon By 80 Years, At Least

 One of the nice things about being married to an only child is that you get to inherit the Well-Seasoned, decades old Black Cast Iron Skillet,  Nothing is prettier in the kitchen than a one of them filled with frying onions.  And that same pan will outlast 100 Teflon pans, while perfectly browning your hash brown potatoes or baking a corn bread in the oven.
Now the reason you have to be an only child to ensure that you get that Well-Seasoned Cast Iron Skillet, is that for some odd reason people started collecting them.  Yes, some people bought more of them than they would ever use.  They got prohibitively expensive.  No more picking up one for a couple bucks at that estate sale, since that was really the only time anyone got rid of them - when they died or found a place where they never had to cook again.  Which I'm not sure I'd like - the not cooking part, just to clarify.  

OK, Did It Sound Like "Hoo Hoo Hoo" Or "Hoo Tee Hoo" or "Hoo Hoo Hoooo"? All I Know Is That It Goes On All Night Long!

Remember when John Denver sang that catchy tune, Thank God I'm A Country Boy!"?  Well, anyone who know me knows that I am not of the same persuasion - in short, I am not a Country Girl.  As a matter of fact, if you look up "country girl" in the dictionary, you will see a picture of my face in a red circle with the universal red slash across.  And my lovely, long, sound nights of sleep have have never been bothered by planes, trains, or automobiles.  But I have met my match.  An owl has decided to make the trees that flank the creek that runs behind my apartment his (or her) home - and he often has visitors.  The first picture which looks like a feather covered Volkswagen Bug in the tree is my permanent owl.  The second picture is a smaller one (only about the size of Tom Cruise) that visits often.  I checked with my friends from the pool at the Y, Ron and Amy, and found that the different types of hooting would tell which type of owl I had.  And that attempts to keep it awake all day to try to change its sleep pattern might not be a good idea.  Actually Amy was the one who knew all about the owls - she was a birder, like Jack Black in The Big Year, but there is nothing about living here that Ron or Amy can't tell you about.  They actually like the sound of the owl, since it means all the mice won't be a problem.  I'm not there yet.

January 6th Brings Season 3 Of Downton Abbey To The US - I'm Excited, But I Won't Think Less Of Anyone Who Doesn't Care

I love Television and am endlessly entertained by things like Big Bang Theory and Folye's War.  But I would only watch Upstairs Downstairs if I needed something to watch while I was sewing.  And Downton Abbey is the same type of serialized drama of manners and class.  I enjoyed watching the first two seasons, and my husband just expressed an interest in catching up by watching them too, so we can watch Season 3 together.  Guess I'll be watching them with him, because I am a social TV watcher.  And Downton Abbey has turned into one of the most socially acceptable TV watching possible.
I think Downton is no better than the old Dallas series from the 80's - and I loved the old Dallas series. I would have happily watched the new reinvented Dallas, but hated to watch Larry Hagman, who looked like death to me.  And since he passed away just recently, I was right.  So I never got back into the series, even though now I won't have to watch him wasting away.
But my point, and I do have one, is that no one should feel bad for not getting into Downton Abbey.  I'm not judging you.

French Food Groups And The Luck Of The Black Eyed Peas On New Year's Day

I was just leaving a comment on a cute Australian blog and realized that I was including a bit of my life's philosophy, that I am sure is original and deserved to be written here too.  In short, since my mother is French, we think of wine and spirits as just another food group.  No one would eat a whole cube of butter, so why would anyone dream of drinking an entire bottle of Gin.  But if you had to drink that bottle of gin, eating that cube of butter first would be medicinal.  Seriously!
Since I'm on the subject of food that you have to eat, did everyone have their Black Eyed Peas for luck today?  My daughter did, since she specifically asked for the quick method of soaking dried ones.  (Boil  for one minute, leave to soak for one hour, and then change to cool water and boil for up to an hour, until tender.)  One of my sons asked where to find them in the grocery store.  (Three places: Canned Vegetable section, Frozen Vegetable section, or Dried Bean section.)  Good Times!