tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19935827673721321922024-02-18T23:05:39.203-05:00Damn YankeeOccasional musings of living frugally and raising an only child in rural Vermont.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.comBlogger233125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-31535755468667533162010-05-03T08:11:00.007-04:002010-05-03T08:29:04.134-04:00Bridgewater Raft Race - 2010I have a guest writer today, my wonderful Sweetie. He wrote this for his Facebook page, and I thought it was so good I would honor him here. (That, and I'm too lazy to write my own.) More photos can be seen at <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 15px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">http://goo.gl/bdp0</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px;font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span><div><br /></div><div>***</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvn_CTwT_4ImuBHE5xIznlpQqsec95qY0cCdOFb6cIW9r1HQSo6naIw63eZVCVZj2ic1fvhs9tT3SumV1yPrnywj4YKKxYGpYJFo2MhmFivN2tb82VBoV51Anqof2sB40i0_Pi_T1gOpM0/s1600/safari.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvn_CTwT_4ImuBHE5xIznlpQqsec95qY0cCdOFb6cIW9r1HQSo6naIw63eZVCVZj2ic1fvhs9tT3SumV1yPrnywj4YKKxYGpYJFo2MhmFivN2tb82VBoV51Anqof2sB40i0_Pi_T1gOpM0/s400/safari.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467017262967900930" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Having run the usual gauntlet of law enforcers in Woodstock we pulled in to the anything-goes cantina atmosphere of the Bridgewater Raft Race.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; overflow-x: hidden; overflow-y: hidden; font-size:13px;"><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br />We unloaded our simple rig and registered. The race, now in it's 36th year is growing in popularity and there were about 50 "boats". I d</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">rew poorly, getting a starting position of 42. We were there early so we observed the melée of last minute construction by many motley crews.<br /><br />Pipsqueak dressed smartly with a wetsuit and grass skirt while I sported safariwear, a pith helmet and "binoculars" fashioned from a couple of empty Bud "Pounders" we'd picked up on our Green Up day rounds. Cameras and videographers were in abundance so we hung around the boat to hang ten on demand. We also spoke with some returning entrants from Boston and NYC. Seems I'm not the only flatlander with a taste for the offbeat.<br /><br />The entry forms read "no alcohol please" but by the looks of many of the entrants we have a literacy problem in Vermont. Even the racemaster interrupted his reading of the rules for a "social" which became the euphemism of the day. We walked around looking at the wild creations and, better, wildlife. If Pip learned some new words she didn't tell me.<br /><br />The rules state that the hulls and paddles must not be commercially built and that crews provide the only power. Beyond that, pretty much anything goes.<br /><br />A raft race vet informed us that the early races were started with the firing of a Colt Special and the awards were rocks taken from the river. A loaner cannon (the usual one was lost in action this past year) shattered the silence and the race was on.</span></span></span></h3><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="UIStory_Message"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Starting near last and with the river a bit low (or is it always this way?) we were caught up in a bollix of rafts. Everyone bumped rocks here and there, some lost parts or coolers (horror of horrors!) and some sank.<br /><br />We soon found deeper water and read the riffles to stay off the stones. What became immediately clear was that Pip was not in this for a casual float downstream. Every raft was a challenge to be passed. It was crucial to be on the lookout for submerged boulders; drift over one and the craft stops until dislodged. Pip is a chatty sort and, being young and beguiling attracted the attentions of other rafters as we drew close. Being her father I have learned to ignore such attentions, if only briefly, and stayed on task. It wasn't long before our opponents were hung up on a stone and we poled by them. I dubbed the strategy "distract and attack" and Pip fell off the raft in laughter. "Keep going Dada", she said as she pulled herself aboard, "I can get back on, just keep on paddling".<br /><br />We did a lot of passing. One longboat was constantly dogging us, but his craft had a sink/bail cycle every 10 minutes allowing us to stay ahead.<br /><br />We crossed the finish line in just under an hour feeling both spent and triumphant. At the awards ceremony the winner received a $100 cash prize. Pipsqueak, as the youngest entrant, also received a prize, a family gift certificate for one month at the new Upper Valley Aquatic Center, value $127!<br /><br />Starting from 42nd position we had maneuvered and powered our way past 26 competitors finishing sweet 16th!</span></span></span></span></div></span></div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-12314672594437057012010-01-12T13:10:00.003-05:002010-01-14T12:14:23.440-05:00Less Binge, More PurgeNo, I'm not considering an eating disorder...<br /><br /><br />This time of year, every year, I feel like getting rid of stuff. I'm not sure if it's all the loot that just arrived by Santa's sleigh or being "stuck in the house" for winter, but I definitely have the urge to purge. This is the sort of thing that I have to harness and ride when I get it because when I'm not in the mood, it's a pretty daunting task, and if I'm feeling a little melancholy or nostalgic, it's hard to get rid of things.<br /><br /><br />This week, I've been going through stuff in my office area which has been a WRECK for months. It'll take some time and dedication to get through all the rubble, but I made a good dent and a lot of stuff got tossed. Pipsqueak got inspired when she got home from school one day and cleaned out some of her art supplies that are kept near my office area. She found a good pile of stuff to get rid of, too. I noticed all the Disney Princess stuff is going... the end of an era.<br /><br /><br />I also feel like buying less. That should be easy; stay out of stores and delete online sale announcements without looking at them. I need to start shopping in my own house. I have plenty of books and craft supplies, which are my weaknesses, so it's time to start reading them and using them instead of buying more. I'll still allow myself the occasional thrift shop spree. Yesterday I went to Border's and TJ Maxx looking for a present for a birthday party. The only thing I bought was the present even though there were lots of great sales going on. The reward of shopping less will be two-fold: I'll have less stuff coming in the house and I'll be saving money.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-89521222717169109512010-01-05T12:56:00.006-05:002010-01-06T21:19:15.387-05:00My ReturnBoy, did I ever lose my writing <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">mojo</span>. I lost my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">mojo</span> for a lot of things, but I've pulled it together for nearly every else. During the Christmas season, I had so many things that I wanted to share with you, but I couldn't seem to get them out of my head and unto your screen.<br /><br /><br />Pipsqueak got <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wii</span> Fit Plus for Christmas, which includes several games, one being Snowball Fight. One of the opponents is in a snowman costume. The first time you hit him, he falls over, the costume falls away and he pops up in human form looking dazed and shaking his head. You have to hit him again while he's dazed, before he recovers and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">redons</span> the costume in order to win that point. That is a metaphor for my life the past few months. I was hit by a friend's death, and before I could shake that off, I was hit by another.<br /><br /><br />I don't make New Year's resolutions because I don't need a date on a calendar to dictate when I need or should make a change, and the changes I make are usually long term rather than for a year. This year, I felt like I needed a fresh start, and I hoped that New Year's Eve would be sort of a magic portal from a year that sucked to a brighter tomorrow. Of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">course</span>, New Year's Day came, and I didn't feel any different. But I did realize that I don't feel as bad as I did a month ago.<br /><br /><br />I think I'll still make some changes... a few things that will make me happier: lose a little weight (as soon as all the holiday goodies are gone), exercise a little more (just because it feels good and I'll be healthier), paint a few things that need painting, purge a lot of stuff that I don't need, spend a little more time being creative (which includes writing here), finish several projects that have long been in progress and experiment with cooking more. <br /><br />I also need to start accentuating the positive. I've never had to do that before, because I've always been a positive-thinking person, but I've felt way too negative lately. There are a lot of positive things in my life and a lot to be happy about. Those are the things that I've got to move to the forefront of my mind.<br /><br />I've been away for awhile, but I'm on my way back.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-27269083946933845082009-12-07T21:33:00.007-05:002009-12-10T16:14:51.949-05:00Remembering MarkHow do I say goodbye to someone that has been a part of my life for almost as long as I remember... someone whose life was too short? There were more smiles to smile, more hugs to give, more gossip to share, more times to see him throw back his head in laughter. <div><div><div><div></div><br /><div>It all started back in kindergarten. I was freakishly tall... a head and shoulders taller than everyone else, except for Mark. We saw eye to eye. We were the token tall kids that got to do everything that no one else could reach. I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame because we were alike, he was kind and gentle, and when he smiled, he made me smile. Back then he said he wanted to be a dentist, so I decided I would be a dental assistant so I could work with him and be with him always. </div><br /><div></div><div>We lived with only three houses between us and the route we walked to school ran somewhere down the middle. I would wait for him at the intersection, and we'd walk the remaining quarter mile together. After school, we'd walk home together. One particularly brazen day at age five, I kissed him at the intersection (on the cheek, as I recall) and ran the rest of the way home. Mark told his grandmother, who lived with him and his family. She said I was a wild girl, and he shouldn't be spending time with me. (I didn't hear that part until we were adults, so obviously he didn't heed her warning.)</div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413716962866229026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-E1bRlHzD4VPe56nTlFrKQ8YZdOZy4iARkuyuCV_ZR-pMraT0-ZLYOXlxccr8fio3-nDaHO2roJJBoSMXo6qK_WCCFwcroMCEv1i2WT1hmOreWTRM8DGvV6m1SGEHfhGYtBZx7smK43WT/s400/mwtux.png" border="0" /> <div>As early, as elementary school, I knew he was special in a sophisticated, refined, vintage-y way. He always gave beautiful Valentine cards instead of those juvenile things most gave. He had an attention to detail and creativity that was different than most boys. His handwriting was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">impeccable</span>. His clothes were always clean and never in disarray... shirt tucked in, collar straight, pants hanging perfectly, all layered in the preppy style that was the rage then. His hair never got too long and it was always neatly combed. I loved all these things about him, and it wasn't long before other girls noticed those things were pretty special, too. By then, I was over my crush and we had a strong bond of friendship.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413716969397031362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 370px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3AACpHzaOADwVahDF3ZjSEu8Vb4xGTAyxjvgjNb9g51GQivHKpUhEO5yVV_fkPkSx5i-ndD1go9jgKOaKnJlTUU3Ej_0mK18GvdK_yQJMo2b143_LornvxVYfHV1hqQBFYKwJHU5yZwk5/s400/MWcrazy.png" border="0" /></div><div>As <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tweens</span> and teens, we spent a great deal of time at each other's house or on the phone together. We were in most of the same activities together: band, chorus, pep band, drama, photography club, prom committee, yearbook committee, National Honor Society. Since we were part of the same clique, we went to the same parties. He was ever present in my life... we were in each other's orbit. I remember disco dancing to the Saturday Day Night Fever album on his porch. We did homework together and hammered out school papers on my Underwood manual typewriter that was so heavy that I'm surprised it didn't fall through the table and the floor. We shared secrets and gossip... we shared our lives.<br /></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413716971898367266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8U1RVOUvN2lbfDIwke1MBK8p-3ZiD4JoDbX455K7Xye94rp0HmDPOZqT6A1zSCIu6UR69Z8Y3BrMTMNTPZTIk4vnso567-I1SoGrO2PjyG_lwOXy7Imja4f8mib462lb5R3oHYAuHiBi/s400/mwsr.png" border="0" /> <div>He went away to college; I did not. But when he was home, we'd get together and catch up. Close to Christmas, I'd go to his family's house. He'd put on the Charlie Brown Christmas album, and we'd share an eggnog while we exchanged gifts, stories and gossip. That tradition continued long into adulthood.</div><div></div><br /><div>We knew each other so well... 4o years of living, sharing, loving. We had numerous nicknames for each other. There were private jokes where a word or two could start the laughter.</div><br /><div></div><div>Just over a week ago, while on the way to the hospital because of pneumonia, he went into cardiac arrest. After several days, it was clear he wouldn't recover. His family and partner said goodbye, and the machines that were keeping him alive were turned off. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I wanted more talk and laughter and hugs. I wanted more reminiscing and more memories. The pain of his death is so intense to me that it feels physical. I know that time will make the pain fade, but there are things in my life that will always remind me of him, and I will carry him in my heart forever.</div><div></div><br /><div>This comes too soon, but goodbye, Mark, my dear friend. I hope you knew how much I love you. Too much time has past since I told you last.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413716976802279298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 215px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5RcNoqmU063LLPzzBdJ2tu0LOPw7cBxeuoaucaaybHbrA3Me2UDI-AIkRxMScasmOVKR-U5x5EORtHunWfybB2eYiLLunABPSdvYSsBq7bIIrYM6ZjqygrT0roT4BrtU6OpUiyg81Dpv/s400/mwrecent.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div> </div></div></div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-67128829687244428382009-11-25T20:12:00.003-05:002009-11-25T20:32:16.459-05:00I'm Thankful for... (the final chapter)I try to take time in everyday life to appreciate things and not save it for a special holiday. But then, it's usually just in my head and not shared. Today, I'll share with you, a few more things I'm thankful for...<br /><br />Where I Live - From the country, to the state, to the town, to my house, they are all special to me. I am proud to be an American. For while, I wasn't feeling that way, but it's starting to come back. I love Vermont... the changing of the seasons, the rural atmosphere, cows and maple syrup. I live in a town where strangers wave to each other when they meet on a road, hold doors for each other and everyone helps one another when it's needed. I love living at the end of a dirt road where I can open the door and let the dog out, and wild animals roam in my yard.<br /><br />My Friends - I have friends that I see frequently, some I see once or twice a year and a few that our only communication is through Christmas cards. Thanks to Facebook, I have friends I haven't seen in a quarter century. They're all have a place in my heart because of the memories we share and the laughs we've had.<br /><br />Food and Drink - I can't imagine living in a place where I ate the same tasteless food every day and had nothing to drink but dirty water. I love good food and drink... the preparation, the flavor and the ritual. We are so lucky to be able to get fresh food in such a wide variety.<br /><br />Environmental Conservation - I'm so happy that efforts are being made to protect our planet and wildlife. Nature is so important to me. While I don't live a totally green life (it's very hard to do), I do make an effort.<br /><br />And a final few things... music, theater, laughter, the power of a hug, a comfortable bed, instant access to information, good health and when I don't have that, good medicine, thrift stores...<br /><br />and you, my blogger friends, for your comments that keep me writing. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-44347999127732088252009-11-24T14:31:00.004-05:002009-11-24T14:47:18.186-05:00I'm Thankful for My MotherMy mom had me when she was 43 years old and raised me on her own. As a child, I was way too busy having fun and being a kid to realize what a struggle this must have been for her, but now I can appreciate her and her efforts.<br /><br />We didn't have a lot of money, and I guess I realized that on some level, but I never felt poor or that the essentials were lacking. She always made Christmas special, and while I didn't get EVERYTHING I asked for, no kid should.<br /><br />She taught me about frugality, although she was probably frugal to the extreme. She grew up during the depression which created a pack rat mentality. The two things that I still laugh about was her saving the waxy bags from inside cereal boxes to use instead of new wax paper, and keeping spray nozzles from cans. If she had a faulty one, she could use one from her stash instead of throwing out a can with something in it.<br /><br />My mom was strong in mind and body. She taught me not to worry... "the worry is always the worst", to think positive thoughts, and to be independent. She could single-handedly move a refrigerator and do small carpentry and plumbing jobs. <br /><br />Now that she's 88 years old, she is weaker and less sure of herself, but she passed her strength on to me, and I'll use that strength to help her. Just before Pipsqueak was born, I convinced her to sell her house of 35 years and buy the one next door to me. Since then, she's given up driving and says that she thinks she's a burden to me. The fact is that she's a blessing to me, and I'm glad to have her so near so I can frequently see the smile that lit up my days as a child.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Tomorrow, I'll be doing a Thanksgiving wrap up with all sorts of things I'm thankful for.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-86232842101354739122009-11-19T15:50:00.005-05:002009-11-19T16:10:43.159-05:00I'm Thankful for My DaughterPipsqueak almost didn't exist. We were rejected from the local hospital's IVF program and were referred to Boston. After two IVF failures there, it was recommended that we consider adoption or a childless life. I pleaded for another chance, and voila! (I really should write about this whole experience in detail sometime.)<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405924055462264658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCzCjlEBQpRsLfLcOIwL2pkVc76REmJu1g07mOYjuOWYwb80gBnUrG7aztMSXawEB3CflPWRp-PmsX_2SXQgq7RoPTnpB_9nLqUnaNFG0FIducHAPPoFQMvOavAZhGZMzLrO384Pe2KCR/s400/sydney3.jpg" /> <div><div><div></div><div>Right from the start, she was a happy, adaptable, easy baby... except for the part where she didn't really like sleeping for more than twenty minutes for something like three years. She embraces life and whatever it brings her. She's kind, thoughtful and naturally funny. I love spending time with her, doing things with her and going places with her.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 317px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405924051440201522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwjCDCJaqN_YlAIZha_mIMv7HQCkxlUi0oZpRJfHXpuOxyT464TE8uON-aN_pKyew8Cwl589H47wGFRLVSdJl2YpqozNf3pO3QaBKMls-AOz2I1gzq9xSxJcszE2w3O7j17yP7PPp8Vb1/s400/sydney2.jpg" />Living with her is like living in a musical because she breaks into original song and dance numbers several times a day. It could be an upbeat, "Wow, These Brownies Taste Good" or a more soulful, "My Mom and Day Love Me, and I Love Them."<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405924049257959954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlI945UJqPbGERPzfFt-6lZkcthuQRCJJ5bz2fhXepp42w18cgziDrtGnyYA1VDukEI6X4bAc2RIY1frdJD-viiAYbSx8t-LdVj7ljnovLy2-pmz51SxQmovw7fei_ibCDwEsCNYpQ6ap/s400/sydney1.jpg" />Every night before I go to bed, I go in her room to check on her and adjust her covers. I stand there for a moment just looking at her sleep, and I feel my heart swell with love. I am so lucky to have Pipsqueak in my life.</div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-3581100858133961802009-11-17T11:06:00.005-05:002009-11-17T20:32:59.270-05:00I'm Thankful for My HusbandI'm a lucky woman to have found Sweetie. I'm not saying he's perfect, but he's perfect for me. We've known each other for eighteen years, together for thirteen and married for eleven. He's my best friend and the first person I want to share everything with. He understands me about 75% of the time (which is even better than it sounds since I understand myself only about 90% of the time).<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 335px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405246210744295906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2kP9C7CdiTjycvetMzqHHfdtbTaJ5_kyoqAligCT3dCCww-IKPWvAHNUftvnkEuEyzwzSyRic-zaJec17Qo45l0nNo-jtNmNyD66vu0axkc0zeJJewRKCEuKDuMf-XnVWD4V9Yw6ndmp/s400/rick2.jpg" /> <div><div></div><div>He makes me laugh, and I want him around all the time. He does some crazy things, loves adventure and doing things differently than most people. I guess I could say that he likes to play.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 278px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405246201907164210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrpfLjgXL_EMhytF_BRzVIdFYu17NyZ_DoqqsupzWxJk-DvYwJGKMUv-ovZg0rEKiSZt4hJrR3GGEpwj__VfMCJmXd5I2uX_ji07vmJOvxYpMmA_7Lzc0ReK2q0YsFt73pjL7isl-JdKE/s400/rick1.jpg" /> <div></div><div>He's very handy with computers, and good at other little mechanical, electrical, plumbing and carpentry jobs, but he's smart enough to hire someone for the big jobs. His mind works like a calculator which will be good when Pipsqueak's math homework gets too complicated for me.</div><br /><div></div><div>We agree on most things and he respects my opinions when we don't. On the rare occasions when we argue, I can't stay mad at him, even if I really want to.</div><div></div><div>He's a wonderful father... devoted and patient. Pipsqueak loves spending time with him. </div><div></div><div>My life became much more centered, happy and fun when Sweetie came into it, and I certainly wouldn't want be without him now.</div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-56352355191101241652009-11-16T21:07:00.003-05:002009-11-16T21:10:51.423-05:00Introducing the "I'm Thankful" SeriesI've had two weeks off to recover from that month of writing everyday. It's time to get back at it. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to write each weekday until Thanksgiving about something for which I'm thankful. If you want to join me, I'd be... well... thankful.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-79902146700382692222009-10-31T12:17:00.003-04:002009-10-31T12:25:31.030-04:00Last Minute Halloween Costume IdeasMaybe you were busy and Halloween sort of snuck up on you, or you got a last minute invite to a Halloween party. There's no need to join the crush at <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">iParty</span> and empty your wallet while you're there. Here are a few costume ideas that you might be able to pull together in a few minutes with stuff around your house.<br /><br /><strong>Lame Excuse</strong> – post its that say “traffic”, “dog ate it”, “it’s in the mail”, etc. and walk with crutches or a cane.<br /><br /><strong>Cereal Killer</strong> – attach empty mini cereal boxes to yourself with plastic knives sticking out of them<br /><br /><strong><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Smartie</span> Pants</strong> – attach <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">smartie</span> candies to your pants<br /><br /><strong>Static Cling</strong> – pin socks, bras, underwear and dryer sheets to your clothes; tease hair if possible<br /><br /><strong>Q-tip</strong> – wear white top and pants and stick cotton balls to a stocking cap and cotton balls on some old shoes.<br /><br /><strong>Gum Stuck on Shoe</strong> – dress all in pink and attach a shoe or flip flop to your head<br /><br /><strong>Leftovers</strong> – wrap yourself in aluminum foil<br /><br /><strong>No Pest Strip</strong> – dress in all yellow and stick rubber bugs to your clothes<br /><br /><strong>Tourist</strong> – big hat, camera around neck, fanny pack, Hawaiian shirt, shorts, crew socks and sneakers; maybe carry a map<br /><br /><strong>Deviled Egg</strong> – dress all in white, attach a big yellow circle to the front of your shirt, wear devil horns and carry a pitchfork<br /><br /><strong>Dr. Pepper</strong> – wear scrubs or a doctors jacket with accessories such as a stethoscope, mask, etc., and attach pepper packets to your clothes<br /><br /><strong>Bright Idea</strong> – dress in yellow or something <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">boldly</span> colored and write “IDEA” on your chest<br /><br /><strong>Identity Crisis</strong> – buy a box of “Hello My Name Is” stickers. Put different names on all of them and stick them all over your clothes<br /><br /><strong>Someone You Can Count On</strong> – dress in black, cut out numbers from white felt and attached them to your clothes randomly<br /><br /><strong>Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes Prize Patrol</strong> – wear a blazer, carry a bunch of balloons and a piece of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">poster board</span> that you’<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">ve</span> made look like a check<br /><br /><strong>Shot In The Dark</strong> – dress in black and wear a shot glass around your neck<br /><br /><strong>Movie Theater Floor</strong> – cut out a piece of cardboard that will cover most of the front of your body, paint it black and attach some straps so you can wear it in front of you. Stick on theater candy, popcorn and empty drink cups.<br /><br /><strong>A Salt and Battery</strong> – glue a salt shaker and a battery on a baseball hat and wear it. Also put black makeup around an eye, maybe wear a sling or use crutches.<br /><br />Have fun and Happy Halloween!Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-50587921606795910462009-10-30T21:19:00.002-04:002009-10-30T21:22:12.671-04:00Halloween Photo<div>So tired, so cold, so wanna go to bed. I'll leave you with Pipsqueak as the beheaded queen and me as Raggedy Andy.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398567983791216786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4L7b10fPJvJYDABsoN_dR2U7BkBOzVAecBFudG5nDDOkfFqfjJyGA9P7WzOmX6rY54k2NONvmuVhMixemaMwWA9VB9fh74Id1IMLhxeTJ_qEQewUkYiM0OXjh0o5Jfr0FJjsVxIiUxnaW/s400/DSC02133.JPG" /></div><br /><div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-73882112250485867212009-10-29T22:19:00.004-04:002009-10-29T22:50:02.639-04:00Halloween Q and AI needed an easy post tonight, since I've been crazy busy getting ready for Halloween. Thanks <a href="http://irregular-tammie.blogspot.com/">Irregular Tammie</a>, for posting this meme.<br /><br /><em>Which urban legend scared the bejezus out of you as a kid?</em><br />There were so many urban legends and most of them centered around a shopping mall. I was a gullible country bumpkin then and believe them all, and we didn't have Snopes back then to debunk these things. The scariest was probably the truck driver following the woman in the car and he keeps honking the horn which terrifies her. She finally pulls over where she feels safe and gets out of the car. The truck driver comes over and tells her that a man was hiding in her backseat and he kept sitting up, ready to attack her with a knife, but when he honked the horn, he'd duck down again. They check the backseat of the car and there's no man there anymore, but he left the knife behind.<br /><br /><em>Which horror movie has the best premise?</em><br />I don't watch horror movies because they aren't fun for me. If I must watch them, I like the old ones like "House of Wax".<br /><br /><em>What is the most disappointing "treat" to receive in your bag on Halloween night?</em><br />Apples or hard candy.<br /><br /><em>What's the best non-candy item to receive?</em><br />Cash. But I guess that house would be really busy. Realistically, pencils or stickers.<br /><br /><em>Did a monster live in your closet when you were a child?</em><br />No, but snakes lived under my bed.<br /><br /><em>Which supernatural creature sent chills up your spine when you were ten and still does?</em><br />I'm not sure they are considered supernatural, but I'm terrified of flying monkeys. I ask Pipsqueak to hold me when they're shown on "Wizard of Oz". Werewolves are pretty scary, too. I guess it's furry things for me.<br /><br /><em>Which supernatural creature makes you yawn?</em><br />Zombies. They move so slow that I think they'd be really easy to get away from.<br /><br /><em>What's your favorite Halloween decoration?</em><br />Jack o'lanterns. I love carving them.<br /><br /><em>If you could be anywhere on Halloween, where would you be?</em><br />Salem, Massachusetts. I just saw a bit on TV about the Salem witch trials and the huge Halloween celebration they have there. It sounds crowded, but fun.<br /><em></em><br /><em>What's the scariest book you've read so far this year?</em><br />I haven't read any scary books this year, but there are two scariest in my life... Intensity by Dean Koontz and a short story by Stephen King called "The Mist".<br /><br /><em>Haunted houses or haunted hay rides?</em><br />Neither because I don't really like being scared and feeling trapped in my scariness.<br /><br /><em>Which Stephen King novel/movie would you least like to find yourself trapped in?</em><br />Definitely "The Mist". It's about creatures in the fog. "The Cell", about people turning into murdering maniacs because of something on their cellphone, would be pretty scary, too.<br /><br /><em>Which is creepiest: evil dolls, evil pets, evil children?</em><br />Dolls don't scare me because I could get rid of them with a hammer, a washing machine or a car. Tough call between pets and children, but I'll go with children.<br /><br />Now, it's time for me to go to bed and have nightmares.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-47993074902137826032009-10-28T20:37:00.005-04:002009-10-28T21:08:18.343-04:00Wet Felted PumpkinsI was itching to do a little wet felting with wool (get it? itch. wool), so when we went to the Vermont Sheep and Wool Festival last month, I bought some orange roving. Roving is fiber fanatic talk for wool that has been cleaned, carded (combed) and possibly dyed.<br /><br />We found a ball in the dog toy basket that was the size we wanted... slightly smaller than a baseball. The ball had to have a smooth surface so it would slip out easily later. We then wrapped the roving around the ball in a couple of layers, dipped it in warm soapy water and rubbed and smoothed, rubbed and smoothed until it looked felted and uniform without any visible seams. Then we rinsed all the soap out under cool running water and squeezed it out in paper towels.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 398px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397814935959817010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn4ohxCUmF3xmUVJ8oMOMGuk3lwubgwe8uLmnQu7dc3md3bTlqEcOAdNUOm-ce8t7_5J8o4s26ib_cvr9qm4Q2YNXRm6HqVS6LCtYTWBviHZ5_M62nSgn-Mi49Hum-HlMAIotsGn7JN1md/s400/felt2.jpg" /><br />I cut a small incision that was large enough to slip the ball out using an Exacto knife. It didn't need to be a huge hole because the wool stretches some when it's wet. Then we left it overnight to dry thoroughly.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 359px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397814937125357570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiicJ95ZuXgm-SqfEjwxkblzA-5b4gKG5-ymYTwetCIGazb7UzDQnpbgnu0Cll5mFBybZfixs_cP2NLB6cYkpSj17stx3j__e1mh_F4XrmWxPoB7MDYGhnHIn5fb7AnLwrVf8fI_zWKh0Gd/s400/felt3.jpg" /> Once it was dry, we cut a brown stem and a green leaf from felt and sewed them to the top from the inside so the stitches don't show too much. Finally, we packed the inside with stuffing and needle felted the seam closed. A felting needle has barbs on the pointed end that are barely visible to the eye. When it's repeatedly jabbed through wool, it pushes and pulls the fibers into one another until it's felted together. I let Pipsqueak do this making sure she kept her fingers clear. One jab of that needle and she wouldn't be interested in trying it again.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2dm8NlONjYxxt9z6UiE0AqDV8cTlesc0RkQ3ldreCi7kWXnYj5UVbQjFT9RCeVd-YD4gqiV7GowIpjIVvb2-9C_75OyEqLyzJE-h87fGBhKS6pTwjOivLJdjCu0Evo0_j0H0_If6f5jh/s1600-h/felt4.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 334px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397814944649115186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG2dm8NlONjYxxt9z6UiE0AqDV8cTlesc0RkQ3ldreCi7kWXnYj5UVbQjFT9RCeVd-YD4gqiV7GowIpjIVvb2-9C_75OyEqLyzJE-h87fGBhKS6pTwjOivLJdjCu0Evo0_j0H0_If6f5jh/s400/felt4.jpg" /></a>Here is the finished pumpkin. I'd like to try needle felting some black yarn to make the vertical ribs, but no time now. Pipsqueak wants to give one to each of her teachers this week.<br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 367px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397814942480028930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv6ECCUTvQka1sFyMBbMwTFH0tAPn9FYpD-GDFE8jDB6S86FqZJMzyaIC_mCyTRfIiF3ByzjGE9zzbX3rG0T2H-e9luxlgWGVfGE6oxfG6iLW1Ve8_6pm7G0mJihCtvQVL3DTcLfTsS2QM/s400/felt.jpg" /></div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-65664442063599748922009-10-27T21:18:00.005-04:002009-10-27T22:06:21.334-04:00Beer Braised Sirloin Tips with Mushroom Sauce<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspBXzp6yDrFnm998azebuzOXEp7a4ZN8pBO_jwUNa3XZtBjcnKaCbF0pThzp2bsN2Lh6iY6kpIjOWx6gmwJuZihwWzjThTebAJIwhLiH3Bxjr1iiE4VD6tYhAwnhsn8oQVKYM7ceBDjip/s1600-h/steak"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397465871575696818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhspBXzp6yDrFnm998azebuzOXEp7a4ZN8pBO_jwUNa3XZtBjcnKaCbF0pThzp2bsN2Lh6iY6kpIjOWx6gmwJuZihwWzjThTebAJIwhLiH3Bxjr1iiE4VD6tYhAwnhsn8oQVKYM7ceBDjip/s400/steak" border="0" /></a>This is a great recipe for a work/school night. I had dinner ready in under an hour tonight, and it was lick-your-plate yummy. This is another recipe that calls for 1 cup of dark beer, so buy the big bottle and sip the rest of the bottle while you cook.<br /><br />1 t dry mustard<br />1 t brown sugar<br />1/2 t dried thyme<br />1/2 t ground ginger<br />1/2 t paprika<br />kosher salt<br />1 1/2 pounds sirloin tip steaks<br />1/2 pound fresh mushrooms, preferably half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">shiitakes</span> and half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">crimini</span><br />2 T olive oil<br />2 T unsalted butter<br />4 scallions, thinly sliced, white and light green parts separated from dark green, but using both<br />1 c dark ale or porter, such as Guinness<br />2 t Worcestershire sauce<br /><br />Mix the mustard, brown sugar, thyme, ginger, paprika and 1 t salt in a large bowl until well combined. Add steaks and toss until well coated.<br /><br />Remove and discard stems from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">shiitakes</span>, if using, and trim stem ends from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">crimini</span>. Wipe all mushrooms clean and slice 1/4" thick.<br /><br />Heat oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. When oil is shimmering , add half the steaks and sear them until nicely browned, 2 to 3 minutes per side (the steaks will brown quickly because of the sugar in the spice mix). Transfer to a plate and repeat with remaining steaks.<br /><br />Reduce heat to medium, and 1 T butter to the pan, and let melt. Add the mushroom and scallion whites. Cook, stirring occasionally until mushrooms soften and begin to brown, 4 to 6 minutes. Pour in beer and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Worcestershire</span> sauce. Scrape bottom of the pan, and raise heat to medium, bring to a boil and cook uncovered until liquid is reduced by half, about 4 minutes.<br /><br />Return steak and any <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">accumulated</span> juices to the pan, cover tightly with lid and reduce heat to low simmer. Braise, turning the steaks after 8 minutes, until tender and cooked through, about 14 minutes total. Transfer steaks to plate or serving platter.<br /><br />Cut the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">remaining</span> 1T butter into four pieces and swirl them into the sauce. Stir in the scallion greens. Serve steak topped with sauce, along with mashed potatoes and steamed <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">broccoli</span>.<br /><br />Serves four.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-10306968171927868782009-10-26T22:30:00.000-04:002009-10-26T22:30:03.083-04:00DMV<div>I can't do it. I can't not post. I told Sweetie that I was taking the night off, but NaBloWriMo guilt set in. So how about a quickie? ...<br />
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<div>I went to Vermont DMV today to renew my license. I hear people complain about DMVs a lot... the lines are long, the wait interminable, the employees cranky and clueless. I've got to hand it to Vermont DMV because none of those things are true. I was in and out in six minutes, there were two people ahead of me, and the woman waiting on me was friendly and efficient. <br />
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<div>I have only one complaint. My photo looks horrible. The focus is soft, the lighting is horrible, and I should have lifted my chin so it wouldn't look like I had two or three of them. But I suppose at $45 for four years, I shouldn't be expecting something framable.<br />
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<div>And I have a confession to make. My weight on my license is what it was when I got my license when I was sixteen years old. I'm now <strike>ten</strike> <strike>twenty</strike> thirty pounds heavier, but I won't change it. It says "weight", not "actual weight", so we'll just say it's a "goal weight."<br />
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<div></div>So, tell me what your DMV is like and whether or not the weight is accurate on your license.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-60218899642754798172009-10-25T20:24:00.003-04:002009-10-25T20:48:13.958-04:00Long Trail BreweryI was tempted to skip today's post, but my conscience got the better of me. Here's why I'm feeling like such a slacker... <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396698439922596162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtvabGGa3Wh-YwzUFOLOcnv9_vc3yFyzbNN9bO6Bfkmd6NuTnePD79c6USv2hyvxkacflrXxoy31owOXWwlmYwwuY-6bsu9Mlk50zwR3ElJlxfsSi_ANTJIMkZjWeWg5AY3hs_GMJ6zgDW/s400/beer.jpg" /><br />I had a beer sampler with my lunch at the Long Trail Brewery in Bridgewater, Vermont... six 4 ounce glasses of sedation. The selection is (back row right to left) Blackberry Wheat, Long Trail Ale, Hibernator, (front row right to left) Double Bag, IPA and Imperial Porter. <br /><br />My favorites were Double Bag and IPA. I've always been a fan of IPA, but this was my first taste of Double Bag. It's only recently become available in stores having only been served on tap at the brewery. It figures I would like it since it's 7.2% APV. A standard beer is around 4% APV.<br /><br />My third choice was Hibernator, a rich flavorful brew without being too dark. The standard Ale was good, but a little boring in comparison to the other choices. Blackberry Wheat was too light and flavorless and Imperial Porter (or as I renamed it "Imperial Storm Trooper") was too dark. I'm just starting to enjoy dark beers. I'm a fan of Guinness, but this was too bitter for me.<br /><br />Not only does the Long Trail Brewery have good beer, but the pub fare is great too. I had a hamburger cooked just the way I asked. I hate being asked how I want it, and order medium rare to have it arrive well done because they're afraid of being sued if I get sick. I would rather sign a waiver than eat a shoe leather burger. But LTB throws caution to the wind and serves a burger that's pink in the middle. The fries are perfect too... nice a crunchy on the inside.<br /><br />With that said, I'm going to go back to slacking for the rest of the night.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-26407573473173928072009-10-24T20:59:00.000-04:002009-10-24T20:59:07.404-04:00Dartmouth Homecoming Parade and Bonfire 2009We've been attending and loving this event for 13 years, maybe missing one or two years. The parade kicks off with all of Dartmouth's athletic teams, from football to golf, riding in the back of pick up trucks and pelting candy to kids on the sidelines. Note to self: next year wear a hardhat. Some of the trucks were so overloaded with musclebound athletes that their tires looked flat. This is followed by a march of the attending alumni. It ends with the raucous run of the freshman class up Main Street to the green.<br />
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At this point, we seek refreshment somewhere for a half hour to forty-five minutes during the speeches. This year is was hot cider and cupcakes at the bookstore cafe. We went back outside to a drizzle, but we didn't let that dampen our spirits.<br />
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We arrived on the green and found a good spot along the caution tape just in time for the lighting of the bonfire. The freshman continued their run in a circle around the bonfire until the left sides of their bodies were well roasted.<br />
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It all sounds a bit weird when I write it, but it sure is fun. Don't you wish you were there?<br />
<object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UJvoq2HdXHs&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UJvoq2HdXHs&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-86486172744388450202009-10-23T15:42:00.000-04:002009-10-23T15:42:16.558-04:00My Beta is ConstipatedNow there is a title of a blog post I didn't think I'd ever write. I looked at our beta, Kip, when we got home today. At first, I thought he was dead since he was laying at the top of the water on his side, but when he saw me he got excited and started swimming around. He wasn't swimming quite right though and he looked bloated. I confirmed that Pipsqueak hadn't fed him lately without telling me, so it wasn't overfeeding. I thought he was a goner, but I hit the internet anyway. <br />
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Come to find out constipation is the most common problem in betas, and most longterm beta owners are bound to have it to deal with at one time or another. It can be deadly, but luckily, there is treatment and it's simple. Cook a frozen pea until it's mushy, put some on the end of a toothpick and drag it through the water to tempt the beta to eat it. Don't feed until the bloating is down and the blockage has passed. Kip took his medicine like a good patient. I'll give him another dose of pea tomorrow to be on the safe side. It says he should be better in a day or two. If not we'll have to try plan two, an epsom salt bath. I'm hoping the pea treatment works.<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB20ayzF3chNi4XwqPFSZ9RrGQJL34SB0OCBigQFCNVeJFLH8ypb6zSmP9ye5aYkfX_2B6Rl68UIO9v1SceKXTuR-plduBEeQsujM4sV1id0U0PodgQKo2IpsqLdcNdqwhQ9gDLg3oRyw7/s1600-h/kip.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395881591358464274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB20ayzF3chNi4XwqPFSZ9RrGQJL34SB0OCBigQFCNVeJFLH8ypb6zSmP9ye5aYkfX_2B6Rl68UIO9v1SceKXTuR-plduBEeQsujM4sV1id0U0PodgQKo2IpsqLdcNdqwhQ9gDLg3oRyw7/s400/kip.jpg" style="display: block; height: 247px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
</div>Here's Kip on a better day. He didn't want to be photographed all bloated and clumsy.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-18288706963254520502009-10-22T20:00:00.003-04:002009-10-22T20:14:23.560-04:00High Waters and Thunder ThighsLately I've been obsessed with the length of Pipsqueak's pants. It seems like at least twice weekly I'm telling her that her pants are too short and she won't be wearing them again. Strangely, this obsession is rooted some three decades or more ago. <br /><br />There wasn't a lot of money in my household growing up. Frankly, I have no idea how we had what we did have. I was an exceptionally tall kid and grew fast until I stopped in my mid-teens. It was hard for my mom to keep me in pants long enough, so I would sometimes get teased about my short pants. "Expecting a flood?" is what I got asked most. It didn't bother me to the point where I huddled in a corner crying, but I didn't like it.<br /><br />Once I started buying my own clothes, I was always sure my pants were long enough. Now it appears that I'm trying to protect Pipsqueak from the same fate of being teased. Of course, there are a million other things she could be teased about, but it won't be short pants. Not on my watch!<br /><br />Another moment in history that scarred me for life was in eighth grade. I was sitting on the bleachers next to my female P.E. teacher waiting for my turn in whatever torture she was dispensing in the gym that day. She slapped my thigh with her hand and said something to the effect that I was carrying some extra weight there. Just what a barely teen girl needs to hear, right?! To this day, I hate my thighs. When I was going through a divorce and lost twenty pounds from the stress, I looked gaunt, but I still thought my thighs were fat.<br /><br />Childhood teasing can be brutal and even drive a kid to suicide, but even the little stuff can't haunt them for life.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-56770073604360645922009-10-21T20:08:00.004-04:002009-10-21T20:47:19.367-04:00My High School Graduation Letter To MeIt's time for a little time travel. Have you ever said, "I wish I knew then what I know now."? Wouldn't it be cool if you could have received a letter on the day of your high school graduation from an older you? Here is what I'd write to me...<br /><br />June 1983<br /><br />Dear Betts:<br /><br />Friendship... You have a lot of wonderful friends and many you will lose touch with unless you make an effort. Do make the effort. These are special people and many won't see old age. Friends you make in the future will have no idea who you are now and the cliques you were in. In the adult world jocks and nerds work together, cheerleaders and band members are moms in the same playground. It just doesn't matter anymore.<br /><br />Money... Don't waste it. Think before you buy. Don't become of a victim of trends. Wear classic, well made clothes. Don't bother playing the lottery; you aren't going to win. Open an IRA as soon as possible. Life insurance is usually a rip off. Invest in Apple as soon as possible. Google is a good bet, too.<br /><br />Work... Do something you can feel passionate about or there are going to be a lot of days that you don't feel like getting up to go to work. Find something where you can be creative or think creatively.<br /><br />Love... You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you can appreciate the handsome prince. Don't fall in love with love; make sure you're in love with the person. He should make you laugh regularly and heartily. And think of yourself and what the relationship does for you instead of always what you can do for the relationship.<br /><br />Children... Don't wait so long that it's too late, but wait long enough that you know you you're with the right father for your children. <br /><br />Health... Sit up straight. Wear sunscreen. Make exercise a habit. Be careful of weak ankles. Enjoy shrimp, lobster and crab because you might not always be able to.<br /><br />Beauty... Again, wear sunscreen. DON'T PERM YOUR HAIR!!! And don't cut it really short and spike the top.<br /><br />Happiness... Don't let anyone drag you down day after day. If they try, remove yourself from their life. You're a happy person, and it won't take much effort to stay that way.<br /><br />Even if you don't follow my/your advice, by middle age you'll be over the humps, living happily, and loving life.<br /><br />Always, Betts<br /><br />What advise would you give yourself?Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-20942326488229852902009-10-20T20:40:00.004-04:002009-10-20T21:06:43.121-04:00Technologically ChallengedThis is an experiment necessitated by desperation. My computer isn't working, so I'm attempting to churn out a post on my iPhone. I've come this far on NaBloWriMo; I don't want to fail now. This is no easy task and there is no app for this. It took me five attempts just to accurately his the "New Post" button. Just to make things a little more interesting, the 20% battery warning came up a few moments ago. Yes, just pile on the pressure while I'm typing with my thumbs. I can't go back and read what I've written without pressing the "Done" button. Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery. This says a few things about me: I'm dogged in my determination, tenacious as a terrier and when I say I'm going to do something, I do it. I'm also not foolish, so I'm going to attempt to hit "publish" before my battery dies and I lose everything.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-73289164868310811492009-10-19T20:04:00.003-04:002009-10-19T20:44:18.146-04:00HalftimeIt is football season, but I feel like I'm stuck in halftime. I don't mean that my life is all cheerleaders and marching bands. Wouldn't that be nice? No, I mean that everything is only half done. The laundry is washed and dried, but not folded and put away. Four out of seven raised garden beds are cleaned up. Three out of eight dining chairs are recovered. Just over half of my windows are washed. And that's probably not even half of the things that are half done. I won't even mention the knitting and crafts projects that are half finished.<br /><br />I can't figure out if I'm busier (doesn't feel like it), more scattered, distracted or unfocused (could be), or unmotivated and tired (very likely). There are so many things that need doing that I dabble here and there and get many things started and nothing finished. I'm also setting my daily goals too high, so it's hard to feel satisfied when everything isn't accomplished.<br /><br />How do I fix it? I need to go back to my lists. To-do lists work really well for me, and I get a sense of accomplishment when things get crossed off. I've also got to work hard at seeing a project through from start to finish, and I'll start with finishing up projects that are already started. If I do this, I think I'll feel more on track in a week.<br /><br />On a positive note, I'm a little more than halfway through NaBloWriMo and I haven't missed a day. Writing every day is a daunting task, and I'll be scaling back when the month is over, but it did give me my writing mojo back.Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-33585122122873893662009-10-18T20:33:00.003-04:002009-10-18T20:46:48.617-04:00Up, Up and AwayEarly this evening, I went out the backdoor to get some wood for the fire when I saw a hot air balloon ready to touch down in the field. I hurried in and shouted with excitement to come outside quickly. I scrambled for the camera while Pipsqueak scrambled for shoes, we raced down the hill. <div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 334px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394103608979616146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzhRKDo4uAMEPTg5FjBTlDcSeTgDAfNLkbBJA2IRWK5LWkGltzj5L2Ji2bWA4Uq4lnsv6EM7fijuxmPm2yMyIK9VPb2mJZzENN0NlGNr5YjoaOPmmd2Fkxlvz3ImSLog8zuR7yfwS1CqDg/s400/balloon2" /></div><div>They wanted to move the balloon across the field and closer to the truck, so they offered Pipsqueak a tethered ride. She was incredibly excited since she was just telling me a couple of days ago that she wanted to ride in a balloon. They went up maybe thirty or forty feet while they moved the balloon about 500 yards. Afterward she was presented with a picture of the balloon to take to school tomorrow and a bottle of champagne.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394103602638567762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV5bgo18NotjNFJ89gN8hUhDDv6MheHvjNbIkITGlTGPTfT9YhVagfMgnipMSy7VYRjpg5nBAZygOaxodEd0rCQz24efv7Vhm0d_lmLbD0cybyOd79XKH_5idULiNBTReiqwZIvf0bN8vO/s400/balloon1" /></div><div>We told them they can drop in anytime.</div></div>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-24942867715810819272009-10-17T19:22:00.004-04:002009-10-17T19:50:44.809-04:00PumpkinsMy garden was nearly a total bust this year. The herbs were strong, and we had a bounty of green beans and sugar snap peas, but the the rest... not so good. The tomatoes got late blight which happened in most of the northeast. (Late blight was what caused the potato famine in Ireland way back when.) Everything else was pretty unproductive. This was mostly due to an over-abundance of rain, a cold summer and not enough sun.<br /><div><div></div><br /><div>I had about eight pumpkin plants but only had two measly pumpkins... one green one slightly larger than a softball and one greenish orange about the size of a cantaloupe. These were not jack 0'lantern material, so today we went pumpkin shopping.</div><br /><div></div><div>We could have gone to any area supermarket to buy them, but we wanted a fun experience, and we wanted more hot cider and cider donuts, so we went back to <a href="http://www.sover.net/~wellwood/index.htm">Wellwood Orchards </a>where we did our apple picking.</div><div> </div><div>Pipsqueak, my fashion maven, informed me that she wanted to wear orange and green this morning so she'd coordinate with the pumpkins, and she pulled out the pumpkin hat I made for her.</div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393715831924316722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMOl9aPUsXU2Dpg6sgrbgRYrh0dqw2-u7x3P-mUfYNCatA65dtUu_mKnf5UQiPqXYHPdcgqv6e6wVxNTHuziePNfUwpNbzpgNzFB1dKvTZcxg-h3awRhpe7IecSP17-ALcNB5UBNnNtt3Y/s400/pumpkin2.jpg" /></div><div>She wasted no time choosing a large one for me to carve and smaller one for her to carve. (We won't be carving until a couple of days before Halloween though.) She pulled the wagon holding our pumpkins, 1/2 peck of apples and a 2 year old local cheddar cheese to the car. <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393715819783420450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssmahqQLxcErdJx7L2Qf4D5FLjdrro1txaqzRrigxOX1YCWjgUp5SFh27J99o01u6LDrqnol7X1DZyaNyjRHGt2ch9nQtgDu945nvLAqcBi6rIUUW8gClT8Rjzx1Iir22eqqEwS-8rcZz/s400/pumpkin1.jpg" /></div></div><br /><em>I rather sit on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than be crowded on a velvet cushion. - Henry David Thoreau</em>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1993582767372132192.post-24678697629145240822009-10-16T20:24:00.006-04:002009-10-16T21:48:04.262-04:00Dirty MartiniI've been thinking about dirty martinis ever since yesterday's post. I'm going to make one in a few minutes, so I thought I'd share my secrets to a good martini.<br /><br />The first time I tasted a martini, I hated it. I thought I'd sooner drink battery acid. Actually, I thought maybe I was drinking battery acid. But there are so many ways to make a standard martini that you have to experiment a little to find out what works for you... gin, vodka, shaken, stirred, dry, dirty. Mine is a shaken, very dirty, very dry gin martini. Let's go over a couple of points.<br /><br />Why shaken? I feel that the martini is colder when it's shaken with ice. I shake mine so long that my fingers are in danger of frost nip and there are shards of ice in the drink. The die hard stirrers claim that shaking bruises the gin. The way I shake, my gin is beaten to a pulp.<br /><br />Why very dry? Vermouth, or lack thereof, makes the martini dry. I'm not a big fan of vermouth, so I pour some in the martini glass, swirl it around to coat it and pour it back into the bottle. I'd like a fancy vermouth mister, but I haven't found one yet. Some say you should merely introduce the gin, very politely, of course. "Mr. Gin, meet Mr. Vermouth."<br /><br />Why very dirty? Because I LOVE the taste of olives. Olive juice is what makes it dirty. This really makes the drink for me. I usually run out of juice in the olive bottle before the olives are gone even though I use three olives for garnish. (I sometimes stuff my olives with blue cheese.) When we were vacationing in St. Petersburg, Florida, I found a big bottle of Dirty Martini Juice in a liquor store. I packed it in my suitcase surrounded by clothes and hoped it survived the baggage handlers. It did.<br /><br />A friend of mine told me that I could be a totally despicable person (which I'm not) and he'd still want to spend time with me because I make such a good martini. Here's my not-so-secret recipe...<br /><br />Swirl dry vermouth in the glass and pour out.<br /><br />In a cocktail shaker half filled with ice, combine 2 1/2 ounces of gin and a healthy splash of olive juice to taste. Shake well. Strain into glass with three olives.<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 285px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393364248330712802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2V3jI9Bvyb9ZXGC8GTd3aHvU9VDhK0orK1g7-T09fnxydfd8LbjQFcPFNxcaPsLBy8AWvWfrjhy5XMKcWcl4XWWvKJuyr_BYXLXZiKvpXLo9IADcG8BDKS_ITL2Xb1mvvNh2sbx3tBxt/s400/martini.jpg" />Martinis are like women; one isn't enough and three is too many. - Len Goodman<br /></p><p>Cheers!</p>Bettshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02266517579549649484noreply@blogger.com3