Mom's 89th Birthday Message

Strange things happening...."wooo-woo" stuff.  We often get messages, we just don't always listen or "get" that there are messages.  Often they are messages of alarm, danger, watch out.  (Breaking my sunglasses was NOT a message I wanted today but I digress.) Sometimes they are "softer" messages.  Messages of comfort, peace, love, joy and guidance. 

Dad, Mom and my sister

Today (Feb. 5, 2014) is my mother's birthday.  She would be 89.  She was pretty psychic, eerily so. But that's another story. 

As a historical preface to this tale you need to know that when I was a little girl, we had a wonderful Hungarian lady who would come in to clean house a couple of times a month.  Mrs. (Margaret) Pilsy was her name (and I know I'm spelling that wrong!).  She would pretty much tell my mother what she felt like doing on any given day.  

Mom would politely ask her if she could do such-and-such.  Often Mrs. Pilsy would announce, in her somewhat broken English, "All right, today I do this."  Think TsaTsa Gabor without the coquetry. 

But other times, she would look at my mother with a  stern glance and say firmly, "No! Today I I-rrron! (Iron)"  She would then attack the linens with vigor as she watched soap operas on TV.  In my mind's ear, I can still hear her banging the iron against the ironing board. "Thump-iron-iron, thump, iron-iron..."

She brooked no nonsense from us kids. She would also tell me what I could have for lunch. Sometimes it was what I asked for.  Sometimes not. She was kind of scary but we adored her!

On our birthdays she would make us a Hungarian torte. (The old softie!) A reall, multi-layered Hungarian torte with the hard-shell icing is very hard to make! My sister's favorite was the Dobos torte.  As I recall, I love the chocolate torte and the mocha torte. My brother's was most definitely the Orange torte.  He loved Orange torte and has often wistfully mentioned it over the years.  

Just now, I called my sister who was just about to call ME. She related this story.

It being a gloomy, crappy, snowy day, my sister decided to make the only brownie recipe my mom ever made.  It was from the old Joy Of Cooking cookbook. My sister has many delicious brownie recipes but she decided to haul out "Mom's" (i.e. Mother Joy Of Cooking), just to see if it's still any good. She gingerly opened up the old book, bound with a rubber band, casually thumbing through it. Tucked here and there, she finds several recipes in my mother's handwriting.  

One catches her eye. Orange torte.

Orange Torte? It had to be Mrs. Pilsy's recipe.  My mother was not a big baker. It is probably written as Mr. Pilsy would have instructed her.

Orange torte. Coincidence?  No way. 

It was Mom's way of saying, "I'm thinking about you....." 

Our First Cat Show

We went to our first cat show today. Very interesting! If dogs were left in cages be handled by the judge, oh, my what a crazy thing THAT would be! The owners put the cats in these judging cages and go away, although they watch, of course. The judge then takes the cat out. So your cat has to be OK with being handled by a stranger.
Saw lots of interesting cats and I was very impressed with how gentle the judges were. Trust me, they REALLY handle those cats! They pick them up, stretch them out, look at their faces, wave wand toys at them.
I also liked that lot of the judges explained what they were looking at and what they liked about that particular cat TO the audience. One judge even answered questions from the audience about what makes a good Persian. All I knew about Persians you could fit into a thimble. Now I know more!
A purebred (with papers) altered cat can go for its championship AND they have a household cat (i.e. mutt cat) division as well!
Talked to a lady who shows Tonkinese and she was very informative!
Hey, AKC and UKC, wouldn't that be cool, having people show mixed breeds or altered for their conformation championship.....? it would put put some extra coin in your pockets too!??
I saw a panda-marked persian named Jack and this spectacular silver tabby Domestic Short-hair. I got to pet a Sphinx (hairless) cat which is a trip. You think they'd be sooooooooo ugly (by their photos) but they're not. They are so soft and WARM!
The cat owners were almost always very nice and informative. There were even folks around with Ask Me buttons on!
Very interesting experience and one I'd highly recommend if you love cats.

Altered Persian bi-colored male, 7 months old named Jack. His owner just loves him! I think he has his championship already. I wish I would have gotten a really good picture of his panda face! 

Stunning silver tabby male American Shorthair. He has ALL the classic tabby markings. I didn't know there were so many....targets, bracelets, anklets, necklaces.... If you look on his forehead his markings look like an Egyptian Scarab beetle, which apparently is a really prized marking. He was a lovely cat, very sweet and totally laid back. "Yeah, I'm gorgeous. Whatever..."

I Can't Make This Stuff Up #327: Christmas 2013:

I could NOT find our stockings.  I looked everywhere. I knew that, being precious, I had put them someplace "safe."  Yes, safe and un-find-able.  Oh, dear!!  So distressing, upsetting and sad!

Today, I made it my mission to find those damn stockings. I knew they weren't in the crawl space because I HATE the crawl space. I knew they hadn't flown out of the house. I went through every box in the attic.  Made a half-pot of coffee.  Onto to check the guest room closet (which I had checked at least four times in the last week alone.)

High on a shelf was a box.  It was labeled "stockings."  I opened it and, lo and behold, there they were!  Phew!!!  Sigh and thank you!!!

I took the box downstairs to prepare to hang the stockings.  Oh, one had some things inside of them.  A Santa ornament.  A cat ornament. And....

------------------ ???????????????

What the heck are those???

Look very carefully.  They still had a bit a fragrance left.

Yes, those are oranges.  Petrified oranges. 

Best Line Of The Week

Time: Opening night for ROBIN HOOD CAPER, before curtain. Feb. 1, 2013

Place: Brecksville, Ohio

Scene: Men's dressing room, hanging out.

Characters: 4 men over 50, 1 man 25-30, 1 woman, the shady side of 40.

Actor One: I don't like show tunes.
Actor Two: (dead-pan, without missing a beat) You MUST be a heterosexual.

Hilarity ensues! Many high-fives for the perfect come-back! A few moments later:

Me to Actor One: HOW long you been doing theater again?
Actor One: Oh, about 5 years.....
Me: That explains it....

The Humble Milk Crate

Why can't you buy, find, snag a darn milk crate that fits an ALBUM?

For all you kids out there an ALBUM is one of those BIG round discs (almost always black) with a square cover.  You play it in a Record Player.   Better knows as a LP!

A milk crate, for the uninitiated, is a super handy thing to have around the house, basement, garage.  There are even websites and blogs dedicated to the humble milk crate and its hundreds of uses. I personally have seen them used as floor to ceiling book cases, loft bed lifters (with storage), parts of coffee tables with storage, bed frames with storage, stools, beer making storage, potato storage etc. They make great car organizers and cyclists strap those babies onto the back bike racks all over the world to carry stuff, like groceries.

The milk crate as dog toy bucket

I have three.  You can't have them.  I wish I had more.  Even though they don't fit an album, I love them.  One is the Dog Toy Bucket! It is well loved and chewed up.  Anybody I know who has a milk crate won't give it up.

I'm looking for them to make a wall cubby to put all sorts of stuff in instead of paying a zillion bucks to buy one of those over priced Ikea jobs (what a rip off) or better yet, to have one custom-built! Which would be ideal but very costly.

Hey, spend the bread on pretty baskets or buy cardboard boxes that fit in there and decorate the damn things!  You can "pretty up" darn near anything including a milk crate.

And if you don't weigh too much you can stand on a milk crate.  Great stool.

Artie diving into the Milk Crate/Toy Bucket.
He CAN reach in there with his head but
for some reason, he hops in there!

So why can't we old hippies (and audiophiles) find a milk crate that fits a darn LP?

After a ton of research......here's the answer because I wondered the same thing.

You can NOT find a regular milk crate that will fit an bunch of LPs anymore.

Unless you truly luck out and FIND an old one, nowadays dairy crates (the sturdy ones) are 13 x 13" on the outside and won't fit albums with the covers. Don't try.  You'll be frustrated. Look at the first picture.  Did your albums suddenly GROW? Nope, the crates shrunk!

The diary folks got wise quickly and made the dimensions smaller years ago because the crates were getting snagged!

If you actually DO find an old milk crate that your albums fit into, guard it with your life.  It's a true treasure!

Spend the bread and get real dairy crates as long as you're not looking to store your LPs. There's a place in NJ that makes them for the diary industry.  I think it's called Farm Plast.  A dozen is about $92 with S&H, about $12 a piece which isn't bad because they're not those cheesy Target ones. those things are useless as tits on a bull.

Most "dairy crates" that are not made for the industry are
1) not made in America
2) not sturdy
Amazon has a 4 pack of the square Farm Plast ones, with S&H it's $41, as of Feb. 1, 2013

You might be able to find old dairy crates on eBay but make sure the INSIDE dimensions are at least 13 x 13 or you LPs will not fit and you'll be frustrated!  I'd get the seller to take a picture of one with a load of albums in it before I'd bid.

The Container Store has ones that are big enough for LPs, they're about $12-13 for one plus $2 S&H.  I just priced them today (2/1/2013). They get pretty good reviews too.

Hope this helps.....

A Blessing

So often we see, hear and experience cruelty, injustice and unkindness in our own lives, never mind around us.

It is enough to make a sane soul jaded and embittered.

Never let it be said that small miracles do not happen.

I never in a million YEARS would have expected, more than a decade later, to find kindness, redemption, the truth about a very painful episode in my life and an apology (quite unnecessary, truly, but gratefully and humbly accepted.) Thank you!

I can only pray that I will prove worthy and that the creative Light will shine through me so that I may perform to the best (and beyond) of my ability.

I must have done something good at some point, for the good stuff came back ten-fold today with the words I received.

As I reflected on what I had heard, I got teary!

Blessings to all, esp. the person who gave me this gift.

ThingsThat Astound Me, Part One

I must say that I have done some pretty crazy things in my lifetime.

Not insanely crazy like my husband has done. I must say that he has done things that truly make me wonder if he isn't part cat and is on Life Seven of his nine.

The "Playing Chicken" with boats on Lake Mary where he grew up. That means you get two boats at opposite end of a large lake, head them towards each other and high-spped throttle them. I think one time they collided. Apparently, my mother in law thought this very good sport and laughed hysterically at their boating skills. Or lack thereof. Mothers were tougher when we were younger.

The homemade "Grapefruit Throwing Pipe Cannons" using real black powder mounted on said boats. You have to give them an A+ for creativity and mechanical genius. It doesn't hurt that my late father in law was a a car/plane/jet mechanic so some of that is bound to rub off.

Riding and driving anything with wheels at high rates of speed. If it has wheels, he fears it not. My only sigh of relief is that he does not own a motorcycle. Thank the Gods for small favors.

Being a Marine. Being a Marine in a bar. Being a Marine, in a bar, being challenged as to your moxie by several large, notorious motorcycle gang members. Being a Marine, in a bar, getting into fisticuffs with said Biker gang members and wrecking said bar. (To give him and his fellow Marines kudos, they came back the next day and completely repaired said bar at their own expense.)

Falling into a conduit. (Did I spell that right?) Another story.

Chasing a roadrunner. Not hazardous but very funny. He didn't know they flew! Way too many drinks and way too many Warner Brothers cartoons.

Now, I truly have to say my spousal unit has a lot of guts. Every day, he gets up, goes to work and deals with pretty much never-ending pain and discomfort. For fun and exercise, he rides his bike. He has ridden it over 140 miles in a weekend. Over hill, over dale and down valleys. I don't know how he does it. Seeing some of those hills makes me want to cry or puke. Heck, I think putting his bike on the car rack is an accomplishment (the thing weighs a ton). So yes, he astounds me and humbles me and sometimes shames me. He is pretty darn fearless.

He'll watch somebody do something insane (like hang-gliding let's say) and say, "That looks like fun. I'd do that." (In the hang-gliding case, I think he has.) If he ever gets the chance to go into outer space, wild horses will not stop him. He'll be the first one signing up for the Mars trip. He is very seldom non-plused or phased by much. Been there, done that. Sigh. Sometimes that gets my goat.

Interestingly enough, he has no desire to "jump out of a perfectly good plane." He does admit that if it's going down, you have to fight him for the parachute. I, on the other hand, have toyed with the notion.

But I digress.

So it was much to my amazement and astonishment as we were driving on the highway from Sedona (Arizona) to Flagstaff (same state) he noticed the bike lane on the highway.

Yes, Arizona has BIKE LANES on the highways. As in bicycle. The kind you pedal.

At first he thought he had misread the sign. But no, he hadn't. Our friend Aunt Judy saw them too.

"Bike lanes? Are you kidding me? On the ____ highway? No ____ way. That's insane! I wouldn't do that! No ____ way!" (Insert several cuss words).

Needless to say, I was surprised; nay, astounded. Once in a while, he displays more than a microbe of good sense.