In the rough

We’ve started out on our vacation. I will still write on my vacation because I actually think better and write better when I’m close to the ocean ,and my husband is near, to watch the kids! However, believe me, we will have fun and enjoy every minute of this wonderful time.

We spent Friday night at a campsite. I’m not a real camper. I’m a one-night-it-will-be-fun-and-then-we-go-to-the-hotel type of camper. The kids of course think camping is the coolest thing. I had time to ponder the finer points of camping as they giggled with delight at the reality of sleeping in a triangular-coned-shaped piece of fabric.

It was this fabric that got me thinking. During the normal times of life we go to our homes, double-lock our doors and set the security system to keep ourselves safe. On vacation we go to the great outdoors, rent a square lot, set up a tent in the wild and a piece of fabric keeps us safe from wild and dangerous animals and humans. Oh, no, I forgot we zip the door shut. Yes, that zipper keeps us safe.

I also pondered about our American heritage. Yes, the Native Americans who had this tent-dwelling down to perfection. They must laugh at us now. We have houses and yet on vacation we live in a tent. Maybe they don’t laugh at us; perhaps, they are happy that we go back to simplicity. However, I am again faced with a question, what did the Native Americans do for vacation? Did they rent a cave for a week?

Our night was enjoyable except for the cold. It was cold. My husband is a boyscout at heart and usually packs everything for a trip. I had to ask him to put back the refrigerator one time. I’ve tried to help him with this compulsion, and he is slowly learning we don’t need to take EVERYTHING on vacation. Unfortunately, he has learned too quickly and he didn’t pack for every possible climate like he normally would, and we were cold. Have you ever started the morning with cold hair or had to search the bottom of your sleeping bag for your toes that had fallen off with frostbite?

Despite the cold, and the other quirks of camping, we had a nice night. The scenery couldn’t have been any more beautiful; if you’ve never been to Big Sur, California, you need to go and camping is a great way to experience all of the beauty.

In the morning, I got up around 6 am and cooked some award-winning pancakes over the campfire. My husband went fishing and we had trout with the pancakes. The kids had gathered some berries to finish it all off…. Yeah, right! We actually went a bit down the road to this wonderful lodge and had a warm delicious breakfast. (Didn’t I tell you I’m not a real camper? You believed that?)

As we were driving out of the campsite we drove by a  BMW parked next to a little tent. I think something is funny about a BMW next to a tent. I expect to see old VW vans with Peace written in the back at a campsite in California, but a BMW parked next to a tent and campfire makes me laugh. I also noticed that our campsite was AAA approved. What goes into the approving process of a campsite? It’s a piece of land! Do they check to make sure it’s flat enough? Are the non-AAA approved campsites all bumpy and built on a slope? Oh, it must be the bathrooms. We did have toilet paper and hot showers. Of course once you get out of the shower the fact that the shower was hot doesn’t make a difference because of the cold. I did do the hike and natural camping once –no bathroom– and you dig a hole for your umm, refuse. That’s another story.

Now, I’m at the beach, and in a warm comfortable bed. I love the ocean…I’ll catch you guys later…

Advertisements

Were They Here?

I’ve seen quite a few strange search engine terms used to find my blog. I’m sure many have gone away a bit disappointed that I couldn’t help with their “phobias” – or maybe I did help them.  I hope no one was angry with me when I didn’t have any pictures of “hot babes.”  I know many parents have come to see if they should let their 7-year-old daughters wear thongs (no!).  There have been those who were looking for the “Oprah Winfrey chain letter” — sorry, I don’t have the chain letter; but she did braid my hair once –in a dream.

Today, though, I just had to share my favorite. Yes, someone came to my blog with the search engine term: alien kidnap diaper. I don’t think I’ve seen any aliens; however, I did have to buy more diapers for my son the other day. Do you think? Could it be? Maybe aliens did kidnap my sons diapers. Sure, it explains it all, the lights flashing in our windows in the middle of the night, that eerie high-pitched noise, the need for more diapers.

You know, I bet the aliens eat too, or why would they need the diapers? I do have to re-fill the refrigerator quite often, so maybe they take food? They must eat ice cream because I can never keep that in the freezer. Yes, this explains my son’s missing football, and my daughter’s missing purse.

I won’t tell my kids though, I don’t want them to be scared; plus it’s important for their growth to keep blaming them for missing items. I think if I leave some diapers and Ben & Jerry’s by the front door and stay up all night maybe I’ll catch them.  I tried to search “how to catch an alien” but only found out “how to talk to an alien” – and that was filled with information about high frequency stuff and numbers — I’ll leave that for my husband. He can try to talk to them, and I’ll just make sure they stop eating my ice cream.

UPDATE: I realized how narrow-minded I was to think that the aliens would be kidnapping the diapers. Why I didn’t think that the search was about an alien who was wearing a diaper while he was kidnapped I don’t know, or that maybe an alien wearing a diaper kidnapped another alien or a kid. Can you kidnap an alien or is it aliennap? I just wanted to consider all sides to this story.  

Pears? Umm no, Pearls…

Sometimes, when there is time, I have my husband proofread my posts before I publish them. He usually has a good eye and catches my mistakes (yeah, I make mistakes.) So after I wrote my last post The Debate Over the Evening Meal , I took a shower while he read over it. He came in while I was taking a shower and said he published it. Now, I always, like to re-read one more time before I hit publish so I was a little nervous that he sent it out for all to read.  Anyway, I figured it was okay and we went to bed.

Yesterday morning I got up to read the post again and found a typo. I had typed pears in the place of pearls in my last paragraph. When my husband got home, I mentioned that he missed a big typo.

“I did? What?”

“Well, I had pears instead of pearls.”

“Yeah, I saw that and thought you meant pears.”

“Why would I mean pears? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would I ‘make sure my pears are in place?’ I was referring to, you know, Leave it to Beaver and how she was always in pearls. What are pears? Oh, you’ve got to be kidding!”

“Well, they are sometimes referred to as melons — pears, melons, they’re both fruit!”

“You thought I was referring to my girls? You thought I was making sure I fixed those before you got home? How would I fix them? They refer to women having a pear shape, but not that part of the anatomy being the shape of a pear –that’s not a compliment.  Please don’t hit the publish button until I have re-read it again.”

“I thought it was cute.”

(sigh)

The debate over the evening meal…

My husband and I disagree. It’s a rather large disagreement we’ve had for 17 years now (we started dating when I was very young — we’ll say 11). He now tries to brainwash the kids and that is where I draw the line. I prefer to call the last meal of the day dinner, and the middle meal of the day lunch. I don’t like the word “supper”. In my family we ate breakfast, lunch and dinner. We didn’t eat supper. My husband wants to eat supper everyday only he won’t get it here — I will only fix him dinner.

Since I knew this argument was not going to be over just because I’m the women and he should give in to my wishes, I had to consult some scholars. First was Maven’s word of the day and he made the point that “supper” was associated with the working class. Apparently my husband’s family worked and mine just loafed around and ate dinner. We must have a fortune hidden somewhere to put us in this higher class. Maven’s word of the day also mentions that The Supper Book, a cookbook, refers to supper as a very informal meal and dinner as a multiple course meal.

What Maven’s also mentioned is that the word “dinner” probably came from a French word meaning you eat the first big meal of the day. So, dinner is really breakfast?

I decided I needed to search more to understand this supper-dinner debate and consulted Fannie and Vera’s Site for New Civilians; that site mentions that in the mid-1800’s people (those with money) were eating five meals a day: Breakfast, Luncheon, Tea, Dinner and Supper. So, we could adopt this practice; I will fix Dinner and my husband will eat Supper sometime in the middle of the night when I am asleep.

Now according to Fannie and Vera again, both dinner parties and supper parties were referred to in that time frame. According to them, dinner parties lasted “up to three hours featuring many courses and agonizingly long conversations” — that does happen sometimes at my house. My son seems to have agonizingly long conversations and my husband and I eat our food in many courses since we have to help our kids with their food (is reheating in the microwave considered another course?). Now the supper party was usually given during a dance or entertainment. Well, I have to give my husband that one because there always seems to be dancing and entertainment in our house.

So, has this helped my husband and my debate? Not really, I’m still going to make and eat dinner, and if he wants supper, he’s going to have to make it himself! (I’m kidding, I usually greet my husband with his pipe and slippers at the door so he can go to the study until I finish making his dinner. I always sneek to the powder room before he comes home to fix my hair, put on a dab of perfume and make sure my pearls are in place. )

about more info.

For those of you who have wanted more information about me, I have updated my “about” page. For those who think they already have too much information about me, don’t read it….

Fears of Memes and Amway

My mom made it clear that I should never respond to chain letters. I’m not sure what her reasons were — something about superstitions.  With the coming of e-mail it seemed chain letters were replaced with forwarded e-mails. I know they aren’t exactly the same thing — I can never get the $1 into my email– but they are just as annoying.  I am not a big fan of forwarded emails –except the funny ones. I absolutely despise the cautionary-political-inflammatory-ones, because 96.7834% of those aren’t even true. I also don’t like the “pray for so-and-so whose cousin’s sister’s brother-in-law’s neighbor’s grandmother’s cat is sick” forwards.  I like personal emails with concerns from people I know, or the e-mails that say “You have a new comment on your blog.”. 

I also tend to stay away from cookie and recipe exchanges. I don’t know I guess I’m a non-conformist or maybe it’s because of Herman. Who is Herman? I’m glad you asked. Well, sometime in the 80’s when Donna Summer was in her hot pants and I was roller-skating, Herman came to our house. Herman, was a sour-dough starter. Huh? Well, he was some mixture of yeast, water, flour, milk and possibly an eye of a newt. Herman would come to your house and you would stir him and feed him so many days with flour, other days I think you would punch him or something. I think after 10 days or so, you would then follow some secret recipe and use a cup of Herman. The rest would be left in the refrigerator. 

At first it was great. My mom was using Herman to make gooey orange-cinnamon rolls and warm loafs of bread. I had to admit I liked Herman’s contribution to the family. But then it seemed life with Herman became stressful for my mom. She seemed more concerned about stirring Herman than making my peanut butter and jam sandwich.

Eventually, Herman had to go. I don’t know where he went. I like to think he went to a new family or maybe to sourdough-starter heaven. I have to think he is making someone happy somewhere.

Now I told you all of that to tell you something else. You see I’m also wary of this internet-blog thingy called “memes”. (I tend to put everything that has to do with you-tell-someone-then-they’ll-tell someone into one category. I even put network marketing into this too. Okay, I’ll even through in the parties –Tupperware, Mary Kay, Pampered Chef–they are still you-tell -someone — only in a different way. ) So, back to the memes–I have a hard time with them.

I am using this post as therapy. I don’t know if my hesitancy to participate in the meme world is because I am associating the memes with Herman, chain letters, and Amway or because I don’t like to follow. Maybe it’s because of a long line of very stubborn people in my family or because I am the youngest of eight children and was always trying to dance to my own disco music.

An Incredible Opportunity, An Ingenious Question

Imagine, if you will, having a conversation with one of the richest women in the world. Imagine having the opportunity to ask her anything you want to ask her. Do you ask her how she manages being a billionaire? Do you ask her for a handout? Do you ask her to promote your humor writing on her show? Do you ask her to promote the book you have yet to write and probably never will? Maybe you ask her for advice or ask her about the most interesting people she has ever met. Maybe you ask her how to start your own talk show. There are so many great questions you could ask her.

Well, I had this opportunity, yes, I was in front of Oprah Winfrey and had the opportunity to ask her whatever I wanted. What did I ask her? What was the one burning question on my mind?

“Would you braid my hair?”

Of all the questions I could ask I asked one of the most famous women in the world to braid my hair? So it was a dream, but still that is what I ask her? Who would ask Oprah Winfrey to braid their hair?

I need help.

Previous Older Entries