Wednesday, February 28
Also, I thought my 20 something children were Generation X. Wrong again--they're Generation Y.
Based on what I've read about Generation Y as a group, looks like I'm not the only whose parenting techniques are coming under scrutiny.
No matter. I'm the eternal Pollyanna... I have hope.
It's never too late to change your path. Just get off the smooth surface and on to the path with the bumps and potholes.
Tuesday, February 27
No matter what you do, it has the domino thingey going and affects oh so many that were never a thought in your mind when you're moving right along a breakneck speed doing whatever it is you feel you MUST do.
I've been having a bit of a midlife-empty nest weekend. All those thoughts filled with "should've" and "could've." But it is what it is and I have read (and tend to agree) that you may never be able to enjoy the present if you live in the past.
What is it about human nature that makes us analyze the past in hopes we'll uncover some new tidbit of information that will suddenly enable us to make sense of it all?
Sunday, February 25
I remember it was a warm evening for February. I drove with the windows down all the way through town, and under the underpass near the railroad tracks--the same underpass that was notorious for catching trucks whose drivers weren't thinking about the height of their vehicles until it was suddenly too late.
My roommate, Angela, and I drove out of town and on to the winding gravel side roads… I don't recall--now some 30 years later--much else except that I wrecked my car. I knocked down a few trees and went through a fence. I think the windshield was busted, the roof and a door was caved in and the car had to be towed.
I think we were probably both just limber enough that evening to avoid injury.
The police came, no tickets were issued and no ambulances were called. A friend of my came by in the midst of all this and gave us a ride to my boyfriend's house.
I know that it took 3 or 4 weeks to repair my car. During that time, I borrowed my boyfriend's car and/or van to get back and forth to my job at the local newspaper.
I asked my mother, just this morning, what she recalled about this particular incident. She said she knew alcohol must have been involved because Angela and I were always drinking and getting into things.
I don't recall having that conversation, 30 years ago. I asked her--point blank--did she say anything to that effect, when I had the accident.
"No," she said. "Because it wouldn't have made any difference."
Saturday, February 24
I have mentioned this theory I have about the real life space time continuum (versus the one in the Back To The Future movies) and folks look at me like I have 3 heads.
I believe our children are destined to experience much of the same, or similar, instances of our life. Also, with that same thinking in mind--we are destined to experience much of the same trials and tribulations that our parents did.
Now the trick here is--armed with this information--we must alter the space time continuum so that our children can be spared some of the unpleasantness; the heartache, the pain, the grief.
I don't believe there's much we can do about the spilled milk... what has happened has already happened. The path has been laid and they'll just have to deal with what's ahead and we will have to suffer because of what has already been done (sort of like Global Warming).
But... we can change things from this point forward so the path will improve...
Wednesday, February 21
I figured it out!!
My remedial training is male menopause--or manopause, if you want to be all politically correct.
I divorced my girls' father during his manopause. I reacted to his weirdness, decided I wanted no part of it, and fast as my little feet could carry me--moved on. And in all the time since then, whenever the issue is brought up, I just shake my head and sigh--remembering all that happened before, during and after.
I guess I didn't learn anything from the experience. I didn't want to... didn't take the time. In fact, it never crossed my mind to be a part of it!! No matter, because God has seen fit to present male manopause in all its glory, one more time.
My other half, Husband Number Three is turning 50 in the spring. What makes it so difficult is he just realized he's not 20 anymore, within the past year or so.
I know midlife is a shocker. And I sympathize-- and empathize! Instead of the girly existence I had grown so comfortable with, I now know I am middle age. I can feel it in my knees and hands. I can see it when I look in the mirror. It's a battle of hair removal and moisturizer.
I have come to understand my menopause --I'm in my 4th year. If what I've been reading is correct, I'm on the downhill slope. (Woohoo!) So, thank you God, for giving me a bit of experience under my belt with my menopause, before giving me the remedial training with manopause.
And I'm going to put all I have into being just a little more patient, and just a bit more understanding, because I really don't want any more remedial training.
Tuesday, February 20
3 medium potatoes
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 cup ( 4 oz) shredded cheddar cheese
1 cup ( 4 oz) pepper jack cheese
3 green onions, chopped
1 can (2.25 ounces) slice black olives
Sour cream and salsa, optional
Pierce potatoes, place on microwave safe plate on high for 8-10 minutes or until almost tender. Cool slightly; cut into 1/8 inch slices.
Arrange half of potatoes in a greased microwave safe 9-inch pie plate. Season with sale and pepper. Sprinkle with half of cheese. Repeat layer. Top with onions and olives.
Microwave, uncovered for 10 minutes or until cheese is melted and potatoes are tender. Serve with sour cream and salsa.
Yield: 4- 6 servings.
2 lbs ground beef
2 envelopes Taco seasoning
1 8 oz pkg cream cheese, cubed
24 uncooked, jumbo pasta shells
1/4 cup butter, melted
For the Casserole:
1 cup salsa
1 cup Taco sauce
1 cup ( 4 ounces) shredded cheddar cheese
1 cup ( 4 ounces) Monterey Jack cheese
1-1/2 cup crushed tortilla chips
Serve with: 1 cup ( 8 ounces) sour cream & 3 green onions, chopped.
1. In skillet, cook beef over medium heat until no longer pink. Drain. Add Taco seasoning; prepare according to package directions. Add cream cheese; cover and simmer for 5-10 minutes or until melted. Transfer to bowl and chill.
2. Cook pasta according to package directions; drain. Gently toss with butter.
3. Spoon salsa into a greased 9-inch square baking dish. Fill each shell with about 3 tablespoons of meat mixture. (what won't fit into your dish can be frozen for up to 3 months!)
4. Top with taco sauce. Cover and bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
5. Uncover and sprinkle with cheeses and chips. Bake 15 minutes longer, uncovered. Serve with sour cream and onions.
Later, To use frozen shells: Thaw in frig for 24 hours (shells will still be partially frozen). Place salsa in greased baking dish, add shells and taco sauce. Cover and bake at 350 for 40 minutes. Uncover, continue as above.
Creative pursuits keep us mentally challenged and as relatives have pointed out many, many times "Idle hands are the devil's playground." (Is it idle hands or idle minds? I guess either could invite disaster).
I've taken to trying new recipes and have found the most marvelous Taco Stuffed Pasta Shells and Southwestern Spuds. Since I left Texas, I have yet to find good Mexican or Tex-Mex food. You have to try this recipe. I'll post it later today with a photo...
I'm also still working on a 4-tiered prairie skirt for my other half's elderly aunt. She kept the pattern for 7 years or so, along with 2 pieces of crushed velvet. The pattern is out of print and has been looked at so many times, the envelope is as thick as Webster's dictionary. The pattern must also be altered to fit her and I am just anal enough to be the one to do it properly. I am pushing myself to get the damn thing completed!
My father has expressed an interest in Ebay. He has a digital camera and a PC, and I have faith he will do well... I have agreed to "teach him to fish."
And today, the first signs of spring... sunshine! And with it, the promise of warmer temps and opportunities to dig in the yard.
Sunday, February 18
I know. I know. Human nature makes us believe if we ignore things they will go away. But we all know that never works.
If we sweep it under the rug, eventually we'll trip over the big fat lump and fall flat on out face. I've tripped once or twice and now the lump in the rug is really getting very annoying.
Problems do not go away. They must be addressed... worked through and resolved. Damnit!
My Mama always says there's no appreciation if you don't have to work hard for it. Nothing comes easily.
I've come to believe that God will give you an opportunity to learn, and if you don't get it, he'll give you another opportunity. With that thought, it would be wise to get it first go round, if possible. I guess I'm just not as wise as I once thought... or maybe just a little more human.
Thursday, February 8
This single word can either create squeals of anticipation or the moaning and groaning of dread.
I'm sure when Ms. Astronaut was planning her roadtrip, it made perfect sense and was carefully planned.
I look forward to hearing just what prompted her to chase after a woman who may have been involved with a man that she is somewhat involved with...
Also, how do you think she feels about her trip--and her well-laid plans-- now that it's all said and done.
Hindsight inevitably affords us the opportunity to view events from a fresh perspective.
Tuesday, February 6
my cafepress shop.
The tees are not getting the rave reviews I had anticipated, but I'm having fun.
Find these and more at http://www.cafepress.com/mizmellonline
Monday, February 5
Life changes quickly. So quickly, that often we don't realize it until after it's done.
I vaguely remember a Tarot card some 5 years ago that warned my current course would alter life as I then knew it. Well, life at that particular time was too full of lawyers and courtrooms, so I welcomed the change.
Five years later, I'm 1400 miles away from the two single most important things in my life… the two things that can make or break my day… my girls.
They opted to stay with their Dad. Nice looking fellow, who could fool even the best into thinking he's an okay guy. He's good company for an evening or two, but not a "long-haul" type of guy. Over time, I have come to realize his real worth was as a sperm donor .
Unforunately, my daughters still have hope that one day they will wake up and he will be that Dad they had hoped he would be along.
I believe in the "what goes around, comes around" concept. That's why the most satisfying interaction with my ex-husband is imaginary.
Besides, I'd rather continue the relationship I started with my daughters the day they were born... the mother-daughter bond that endures.
It bends, may get twisted at times, but never ever breaks.
Thursday, February 1
Windshield time really is a blessing. If you're alone, you can talk to yourself. Yes, this is a good thing. It always helps to verbalize. If you have a traveling companion, you have the gift of uninterrupted conversation.
Yesterday I ventured out with packages and coerced my 70 year old mother into the Saturn for the 26 mile ride to the nearest Fed Ex location. The ride includeds blurbs from childhood, marriage and employment... random thoughts expressed honestly as they came to mind... giggles and rants.
I listen. Each trip provides a bit more insight into what is involved in a 53 year marriage. What works. What simply is not tolerated. How siblings turn into a silent support system as we mature.
It's hard for me to associate age with either of my parents. My other half points out that it may be because I have difficulty associating myself with the present number indicating my current age. Age is just a number.
I detest stereotypes... and the narrow-minded thinking that comes with it. People are like good meals-- meant to be savored and appreciated for their unique flavor.