More giggles to start your day, hopefully some of the newer blog friends on my list won't mind being my latest ..er, ah...victims of humor.
Aspiring author Ian...
Mad Scientist Wabbit (Trudi) shrinking George down to size...
Misty keeping Geoff in line the best way she knows how, with duct tape...
Zzee in one of her many yoga positions...
Okay you can all breath a sigh of relief, that is it for awhile...
I hope you have a giggle...
Piper teaching Terrence the elements of "fetch"...
MkChippy and SleepyLady on a typical blogging day...
Swedish Muppet Chef Mac in the kitchen...
Sharon's pampered squirrels at the door...
Keep smiling...it's good for you...
Reports are starting to trickle in of the hijacking of Um's blog. What started out as an educational and informative blog on the number of surfaces and edges of a Mobius strip quickly esculated out of control.
A rogue band of pocket protector wielding math geek wannabes, quickly gained control of the mathematical blog and took it over for their own personal agendas. Rumors of possible bb gun shots were heard by blog commentors as well as confusion over bodyshots of a different nature.
Authorities have released photos of the rowdy band of bloggers, with warnings being issued if they are spotted on Multiply.
Use extreme caution if confronted by one of the suspects. All sour pusses and stick in the muds are encouraged to seek shelter.
A ransom note has been obtained with it's demands, that has other bloggers scurrying for the safety of their own blogs, and a tearful Um begging for the safety and return of his Mobius strip and blog All eyes will be on the look out for the blog payoff demanded by the hijackers...
I've come to think of it as a Christmas story, only a story without snowmen, angels, wise men, or Santa Claus. I don't think of it much thru the year, but at Christmas time and around the holidays I find myself remembering the story which has me googling to read the story over again. It's a feel good kinda story, a story of regular people coming together to make it something more. Something I think that Christmas and just what life it's self should be all about.
It was December 17, 1941 and a small group had gathered to wait for them. The 134th infantry were to be arriving by train and would pass thru, or at least that was the rumor that was circulating about. Trains came and they weren't the right trains, and more people gathered til the 4:30 train which was suppose to be the real train carrying the 134th was to arrive. But it didn't have the 134th infantry. Those sons and fathers and brothers and loved ones weren't on the train but were in fact a different group from Kansas. The gathered group loaded them down with their parcels of cookies, magazines, and cigarettes and sent them off as if they were their own.
And an idea was formed by a local woman, Rae Wilson, that the soldiers should be met, the trains should be met. They should be sent off, all of them as if they were family, they were everyone's family. A group was formed and on Christmas day the North Platte Canteen came into being.
As many as 23 trains a day and up to 8,000 military personnel were greeted with steaming hot cups of coffee, baskets of sandwiches, plates of fried chicken, cookies, pies, magazines, cigarettes, playing cards, and a birthday cake or two. Well actually about 20 birthday cakes a day, 600 cakes a month, to be given to any soldier who was lucky enough to have a birthday that day.
As many as 125 communities came together to help staff and supply the canteen daily. Auctions, and raffles, and scrap metal drives were held to help cover expenses. Men's organizations, ladies' groups, church members, businesses all took turns to make sure each train was met every single day for four and a half years before the canteen's closing on April 1, 1946.
I find it remarkable. That a town of 12,000 even thought they could undertake such a project. I find it remarkable that every train was met, day or night. That almost 6 million servicemen and women came thru the canteen. How in the very beginning the transport of the trains was being kept quiet, and only the head of the Union Pacific officials knew of their arrival. They would in turn contact the head canteen workers and the word was spread by the simple phone call, "I've put the coffee on". In a time of poverty, and uncertainty, it does seem as if it was some sort of miracle.
The pessimistic part of me, grumbles that it wouldn't ever happen now. No one would be home, no one would be willing to spend such a big part of their day just meeting a train for 10 minutes, and for total strangers. Everyone would claim to be at work and unable to help, or maybe help out once or twice before moving on and thinking they had done their part. But that is the pessimistic part of me, and the melancholy and romantic part of me hopes that we would. For now though, I just think of it as my favorite Christmas story, which became much more than just a Christmas story for so many.
To read more about the North Platte Canteen: http://npcanteen.net/
I thought of that saying a lot recently. I spent last month cleaning out the garage and it was a project that seemed to take forever, and yes it did take me the whole month to complete. I do have to explain that once I filled the garbage container and wheeled it to the end of the drive each week, that I would quit cleaning out the garage for the week. A couple of weeks, I only spent 20 minutes, but there were some days I was out there for what seemed like hours.
Part of garage cleaning dilemma was the fact that you do an awful lot of shuffling. I started cleaning off one shelf and putting things in other spots where they were next to like objects, and it only made for more objects to move when I then got to that spot or the next shelf. Once I got one shelving unit cleaned off and moved to the next one, I then had to shuffle everything off the shelf into a new spot so that I could sweep it down and try and organize stuff in their right spot. When the shelving was done, then I had to shuffle stuff on one side of the floor space over to the other side of the garage, and then back. It seemed like for every step forward I took, I took two steps back. I didn't want to take everything out of the garage at once because of a chance of rain, and I didn't want piles of junk just sitting for me to cart out, hence the shuffling.
Adding to my woes were the fact that I kept coming across stuff that I had no clue as to what they were or their purpose. I thought to myself, if only I had a digital camera, I could take pics and post them on here and play a bit of guessing game. If I couldn't figure it out, maybe you could... I'd even been willing to mail off that prize to the correct blogger. I had to enlist the help of one of my brothers when he came to visit to pull things off the shelf and ask, what in the world is this?...Do I need it?...Or is it just junk? While I had him in my garage cleaning clutches I loaded him down with some of my precious treasure (cough) junk each time he came to visit during that whole month. He got nails and screws, nuts and bolts, some kind of clamp thingies, storage bins, anything I could think of that I wasn't using, hadn't been using, and just wanted gone.
It was a bit overwhelming when taking inventory of just what all was out there. Even though a person could still pull a vehicle in the garage it seemed to be full of junk. Some of it good, and some of it past it's prime or usefulness. Three string trimmers, one working, one brand new and refusing to work, one kept for parts. Three lawnmowers, two riders, one push. Ten fishing poles....good grief, where in the world did 10 fishing poles come from? I remember having two, but somehow 8 more appeared. Four jugs of windshield washer cleaner. Five water jugs, five hoes, 3 rakes, 4 shovels, two sprayers, four hose-end sprayers, six sprinklers, the list goes on...and on. How does one acquire so much stuff?
I blame part of it from having a past love of going to auctions and garage sales. I use to think nothing of spending my Saturdays at an estate sale or auction. It was fun poking around and sifting thru boxes of junk for any kind of treasure I would spy. I would end up bidding on the whole box just to get that one or few items that I wanted in the box. The remains of those boxes eventually ended up in the bottomless pit that I call the garage. I gave up my auction going ways a few years ago. It seemed that more and more I stood around all day to bid on wanted items only to see the prices go to high, or watch others sift thru those same boxes and shuffle the items they desired into other boxes to combine their treasured wishes together.
Another culprit in my messy garage woes were past remodeling projects. Leftover bits of drywall, boards, molding, paint, stain, etc. etc. seemed to fill a good part of one wall. I was back to my dilemma of sorting thru what does one save or toss? It's a well known fact that if you have something for twenty years and throw it out because you have never used it, that you will end up needing that item the following week. I ended up tossing anything rusty, moldy, broken, or not used in years. I am crossing my fingers that hopefully there was nothing too important in that mix.
Eventually the garage was finished. I now have shelving lining one whole wall with all of it's items neatly in boxes or totes and everything else hanging on hooks or neatly stacked and out of the way. I found a few surprises along the way, along with some long lost treasures found. My old felco pruners, found, once thought lost out in the garden somewhere to rust. Found the fourth ball to the croquet set (small cheer, I thought it was lost forever). Two padlocks WITH their keys...
I wish life could be so easy. We toss out the old, broken stuff that isn't working and shuffle the better stuff til it fits in a way that makes it more workable. We keep hanging onto stuff that's long since filled it's purpose, or doesn't work at all, and yet we still cling to the hope that it will eventually work the way we want it to. It serves no purpose other than to clutter up things so that it's harder to see what stuff is the real treasures...
I take a sense of pride when looking at my newly cleaned and organized garage. It was a lot of hard and sometimes dirty work and something I don't want to have to do over, or let it get to the point that it becomes that cluttered again. It just involves taking the small steps needed at the time to deal with things and not to keep putting things off, something I am bad at,... procrastination has always been my middle name.
I'll keep working on it though. The only downside to my garage cleaning efforts...
Yep, you guessed it... It looks so clean and organized, I'm afraid to park the car in it...
Halloween was a pretty nice day for most parts, but I was a bit frazzled when there was a knock on my door at 11 a.m. and there stood 7 trick or treaters. Trying to hide my shock I mumbled a few sentences about nice costumes, etc. etc. and when I closed the front door I felt the panic set in. SEVEN trick or treaters before noon. I hadn't planned on a whole lot of trick or treaters. Every year the number of kids going door to door had slowly been downsizing. The last few years the most I ever had was a dozen. I had stuff for about 2 or 3 dozen trick or treaters at most. It had me panicking for a bit that I was going to run out of stuff. It was the first time ever that I had trick or treaters so early in the day and I was torn between running to town to get more treats or try my hand at making something.
Fearing I might miss any more trick or treaters that might feel compelled to go around early as their cohorts had, I opted to make something. Growing up as a child the thing that always stood out for Halloween and the homemade treats was ...popcorn balls. My mom made them, the neighbor kid's moms made them, and nobody seems to make them any more. I know most are afraid to make anything homemade, much less let their kids eat anything homemade, but a bee had gotten into my bonnet and I was in the mood for popcorn balls.
I had to find a recipe, and unable to locate a recipe from my mom on her popcorn balls I did the next best thing and googled. Hmmm...so many choices, I finally opted on a recipe for "grandpa's favorite popcorn balls"...after all grandpa couldn't be wrong could he? I set about popping the popcorn, sifting out the old maids, and stirred and stirred the bubbling concoction for what seemed like forever. The directions called for boiling the mixture to a hard crack stage which is roughly 300 degrees. Finally it got to that point and I poured it over my mound of fluffy white popcorn. I stirred the popcorn and kept mumbling, "hot"..."hot" as a drop or two of the molten mixture would touch a finger. How in the heck was I going to mold this stuff into balls if it was painful just stirring the mixture? The directions said to wait five minutes before forming into balls, but after a minute or two I could tell the popcorn mixture was stiffening up and I had to act fast if it was going to take ball form. Buttering up my hands well I proceeded to gingerly grab hand fulls and mold into the balls, all the while continuing my mantra of "hot"..."hot"..."hot"... I got to the last little bit which was cool enough it no longer wanted to stick well so it just got tossed into a bowl. I sat back proudly and admired my popcorn balls and started counting them. I had to frown a bit when I came up with just a couple over a dozen. That's it my mind cried? Only 14 lousy popcorn balls? I debated on making a second batch, but only for a second. No way in heck was I doing that again. How did our moms do it I wondered? I know they made dozens and dozens of the confections and just making a dozen or so had me waning in my love of popcorn balls.
I set my popcorn balls aside as they were going to be my back up plan. As Halloween evening came to a close, I had just enough of my regular treats for the costumed kids and the pile of popcorn balls leftover. I had to try one, after all what is Halloween without a homemade popcorn ball? As I bit into one of the popcorn balls I made a bit of a frown. Hmmpph! Oh they tasted okay but they weren't REAL popcorn balls, or not the popcorn balls that my mom made. They were crispy, hard, they crunched when you bit into them almost to the point of shattering. They weren't what I was expecting or wanting. Insert pout here.... So I thought, well maybe if I let them set a day or two they will soften up a bit to the point of my popcorn ball remembrances. Fast forward to today, November 4th and they are still as crunchy as the day I made them (sigh).
There is an art to popcorn ball making. Mine were too hard. Popcorn balls are made for you to sink your teeth into them and automatically feel the sugared gooey stuff stick to your two front teeth, and as you chew the popcorn ball yumminess, you pray silently that you don't loose a filling. They need to have a bit of stickiness to them but at the same time not be too sticky. I have had popcorn balls made with marshmallows and they are too soft and chewy. The ones I made were too hard... mom's were just right.
I don't know, maybe if my popcorn balls had turned out I still wouldn't have been satisfied. We remember things differently as kids. I think the excitement we all felt while young added a flavor to those popcorn balls that are sadly lacking today. I won't give up on the popcorn ball making though, it will just be awhile before I try it again. Maybe next year.....or not.
Happy Birthday Misty, I was originally going to make up a new birthday graphic to stick up here or on your guestbook. Looking thru my old graphics though, I came across several things from the past, our past, in our old graphics PSP group so I thought I would post some of them here to give you a chuckle. I know most on here won't know the humor behind them but you will and that is all that counts...
May your day be extra special Misty, I know it's been years and years that we have been connected on here. You ran over my toes first in yahoo chat with your powered 360 computer chair. Was my cohort in terrorizing RRL. Was my mentor in Paint Shop Pro. Helped me to learn html and make a webpage. A lot, quite a lot when I think about what all you taught me on here, and once again I want to say thanks for you and your friendship.
Thanks for the memory
Of things I can’t forget
Journeys on the Net
Our wondr’ous time in ladybugs
And chat I won’t forget
How lucky I was
And thanks for the memory
Fun and laughs, full of glee
On computer wheel
We had a ball at late night
But we didn’t stop for pleas
How funny it was
Now since our late nights I wake up
Smiling on a gray morning after
I long for the sound of more laugher
And then I see the laugh’s on me
But thanks for the memory
Of every time a thrill
I’ve been thru the mill
I’ve lived a lot and learned a lot
You taped me up and still
I miss you so much
Thanks for the memory
Of how we like to blog
Even in a fog
The bloggers in Multiply
Many hours we did log
How lovely it was
Thanks for the memory
Of pictures I destroyed
Blogs that we enjoyed
Today the way things look
I need a book by Sigmund Freud
How brainy he was
Gone are those nights on Yahoo chat
Together we would do a great show
But now I begin with the late show
And wish that you
Were playing too
I know it’s a fallacy
That people never cry
Misty, that’s a lie
We had our time of mischief
But memories never die
And thank you so much
