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Thread: Trudy's Jan. '08 Newsletter

  1. #1
    Join Date
    Aug 2007
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    Lightbulb Trudy's Jan. '08 Newsletter

    ’08 January “FMP”
    I don't think many kids know what an apron is or all their utilities. Mine do because I use one, and they’ve put them on when helping in the kitchen. The principal use of Grandma's or Mother’s apron was to protect the dress underneath, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven or to tidy up the kitchen counter on a spill of fluid. It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.
    My grandmother wore hers all day. She didn’t have a neck strap, just safety pinned it to her dress. They weren’t store bought, either. She made each one out of printed cotton with a pocket on each side and “strings” to tie it with at her back. The pockets carried essential tools: a cloth hankie (the ones I gave her every Christmas), piece of hard candy, some pennies, a few clothes pins and safety pins, and a small pencil with scraps of paper. The aprons were always starched and ironed. Then, they were carefully hung on a hanger in the walk-in pantry next to the kitchen.
    Founder of the Methodist church, John Wesley’s mother had 11 children. The only time she could take a little nap or not be bothered was when she’d take her apron, put it over her face and snooze in her rocking chair in the kitchen. The children knew not to bother her at that time. It was her signal.
    From the chicken coop on the farm, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven. When company came, under those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And when the weather was cold, it served as a light wrap around the arms. Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove; I watched my grandmother use hers that way, too. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls back to the garden to fertilize the ground. In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees. When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds---the original SWIFFER. When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner. There’s that signaling again.
    It will be a long time before someone invents something which will replace that "old-time apron" which served so many purposes, tied around the waist of the one who loved so deeply. IT TAKES: *.05 second for a human muscle to respond to stimulus. *.2 second for the International Space Station to travel 1 mile. * 45 minutes to reach an actual person when calling the IRS during tax time. *7 days for a newborn baby to wet or soil 80 diapers. 30 days for a human hair to grow half an inch. *1 year for Los Angeles to move two inches closer to San Francisco (due to the shifting of tectonic plates). *45.36 million years to reach the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, in a car going 65 mph. Hmmm, seems time is a matter of relativity.
    Guy’s chair is a Tall Man’s Lazyboy recliner made of burgundy leather. It is a wonderful chair and I have one just like it. To tell you how wonderful it is, he sits in it every day for periods of time. A lot of times he falls asleep. One morning I awakened to find him not in bed; he’d gone to his chair in the middle of the night because his leg was hurting, and he’d fallen asleep. I tidied the pillow and cover he’d put on the seat. He looked in from the dining room and said, “Oh, I see you’re making my bed; thank you.”
    I receive a lot of forwards in my e-mails. A lot of times I’m given the message of “Send this to 5 (7, 9, 10, 15 whatever the number) people and you will receive a miracle tomorrow.” Seldom do I forward it to that many people. If I find it worthwhile, I remove the contents and transfer it to a clean “sheet of paper” and send it to whomever. I try to erase the “send this to (number of people) and you’ll receive a miracle tomorrow.” My belief is whether I send it or not, a majority of the people to whom I’d mail it and read it will receive a miracle at 12:01:00 AM----another day. That’s a miracle in its self, to me.
    Homer the Greek: “The man who acts the least, disrupts the most.” Boy, is that ever true. I’ve been in the deepest throes of dealing with dawdling children; a whining, hungry dog who wants to go outside; the clock ticking because it is about time to leave for school; and cooking a good breakfast. SOMEONE just sits and watches. The irritation is overwhelming, and I find the lack of action grounds for a “discussion.” “I am just sitting here not doing anything!” he says, which was the lead-in for the encounter. “ABSOLUTELY!! And that is what honks me off,” I fired back. “I didn’t want to get in the way,” he feebly responds. “That, also, honks me off!” I fire back. “I can’t win,” he sighs. “You’re catching on real quickly,” sending another “round” of ammunition. Only in the wild does the lack of movement protect the animal from attack.
    I know someone who works in a fiber factory. They told me the crew asked the owner for a raise. The owner, after they stopped laughing, told them not at this time, and for them to get back to work. The angry crew all wrote, “Knot going to happen. There’s knot a thread of hope until we get our raise, so don’t string us along.”
    Chili Cook-off: If you can read this whole story without laughing then there’s no hope for you. I was crying by the end. Note: If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better. For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how true this is. They actually have a Chili Cook-off about the time Halloween comes around. It takes up a major portion of a parking lot at the San Antonio City Park. Judge #3 was an inexperienced Chili taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL---land of the mild chili.
    WORD OF CAUTION: Go potty first; then read.
    Frank: “Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judges’ table asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn’t be all that spicy and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting. I accepted.”
    Here are the scorecard notes from the event, y’all.
    Judge #1--A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
    Judge #2--Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
    Judge #3—(Frank)---Holy sh**, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that’s the worst one. These Texans are crazy.
    Judge #1—Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
    Judge #2---Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
    Judge #3---Keep this out of the reach of children. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.
    Judge #1—Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
    Judge #2—A bit salty, good use of peppers.
    Judge 33—Call the EPA. I’ve located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Get me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded my on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I’m getting sh**-faced from all the beer.
    Judge #1—Black bean chili with almost no spice. A let-down.
    Judge #2—Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
    Judge #3—I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. That 300-poun woman is starting to look HOT…just like this nuclear waste I’m eating! Is chili an aphrodisiac?
    Judge #1—Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
    Judge #2—Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
    Judge #3---My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I wonder if I’m burning my lips off. It really irritates me that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw those rednecks.
    Judge #1—Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
    Judge #2—The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, and garlic. Superb.
    Judge #3---My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames. I pooped on my self when I farted and I’m worried it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that Sally. Can’t feel my lips anymore. I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone.
    Judge #1—A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
    Judge #2—Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. **I should take note that I’m worried about Judge #3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
    Judge #3—You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I’ve lost sight in one eye, and the word sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt’s covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my shirt. At least during the autopsy, they’ll know what killed me. I’ve decided to stop breathing it’s too painful. Screw it; I’m not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.
    Judge #1—The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
    Judge #2—This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself. Not sure if he’s going to make it. Poor feller, wonder how he’d have reacted to really hot chili? Judge #3—No Report
    Have you ever wanted to tell someone you thought they were stupid, but didn’t want to actually say it? Or, tell others you thought someone was stupid, but didn’t want to be blamed with saying, “They are so stupid.”? Here are some choice descriptions to help you. A few bits short of a byte; A few pixels short of an image; A few clowns short of a circus; A couple of knights short of a crusade; A bunch of chips short of a dip; A cup and saucer short of a place setting; A few feathers short of a whole duck; A casserole and sandwiches short of a picnic; A few rungs missing from their ladder; About 17 stitches short of a seam; Lost the “wine” out of the twine.
    To stop night time coughing in a child (or adult as we found out personally), put Vicks Vaporub generously on the bottom of the feet at bedtime, then cover with socks. Even persistent, heavy, deep coughing will stop in about 5 minutes and stay stopped for many, many hours of relief. Works 100% of the time and is more effective in children than even very strong prescription cough medicines. In addition it is extremely soothing and comforting and they will sleep soundly. I find the vapo rub is most helpful on the bottom of my feet. Since I usually have put my foot in my mouth for some reason or another, an inch more isn't going to hurt me any.
    ONE ESCALATOR CAN CARRY AS MANY PEOPLE AS 13 ELEVATORS. O.k. but is it as much fun? Safer, though. Well, maybe; it depends on your perspective.
    Guy was talking to his 96 year old aunt. She told him of the group she’s in at the retirement home: 1 is 101; 2 are 100; and she’s the kid of the group. Guy said, “My, that’s a lot of history!” She quipped, “Yes it is, if I could remember it”.
    A pregnant goldfish is called a twit. Well, I have another definition of that word, but Brenduhh would get upset. It is physically impossible for pigs to look up. Brenduhh asked, “Well then, how will they know when it’s time to fly?”
    Take care of yourselves and those who love you. Trudy
    Whether you think you can or think you can''re right.

    "There is no try; you either do or don't." Yoda

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Aug 2007
    Northern VA
    Blog Entries

    Default Re: January 2009 newsletter----FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

    Thanks for posting, I love the addition of the smilies!
    Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it - William Arthur Ward
    Today is the FIRST day of the REST of your life...what will YOU make of it?
    No trees were harmed in making this post. However, millions of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Aug 2007
    Blog Entries

    Default Re: January 2009 newsletter----FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

    And I love all the smilies. I'd love to see more. Is there a way to put more on?
    Whether you think you can or think you can''re right.

    "There is no try; you either do or don't." Yoda

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