Tag Archives: lifestyle

What Do You Like to Cook?

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Today, I was befuddled when asked, “What do you like to cook?”

I do like to cook, have been cooking for all of my married like, fifty-two years, and think I’m a good cook.

However I was stumped.

So I shared what I was fixing for dinner; turkey burgers with honey mustard sauce, Aldi’s Asian Salad (it comes in a bag you mix up at home), and sweet potatoes fries.

The sweet potatoes look burned because they are. . .I have a new oven and haven’t mastered the air fry, but we prefer crispy to soggy.

The honey mustard sauce I improvised. It’s honey mustard thinned with apple cider vinegar and softened with mayo or Greek yogurt.

The turkey burger recipe is my friend Betsy’s; diced,onion, apple and celery, one pound ground turkey, brown and cook on each side for five minutes.

The wine was cheap. . . and romanced our palate

I totally enjoy the dinner. The humidity lifted and we ate out doors.

What do you like to cook?

…just saying

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The Alphabet Series D is for Disappear

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Photo by Dids on Pexels.com

D is For Disappear

D is for disappear as in the New York Times Best Seller novel, “Gone Girl” by Gillian Flynn.

Nick and Amy Dunne, two out of work New York City writers, move to Nick’s childhood home in North Carthage, Missouri when they learn Nick’s mother is fatally ill.

Nick is a journalist.

Amy writes surveys or opinion questionnaires, e.i., Which of the following will lead to personal happiness.

A.  Caring more about others than yourself

B.  Discovering a passion

C.  Exercising and eating well daily

D.  All of the above

Nick persuades Amy to invest the last of her Trust Fund in a business for him and his twin sister, Margo. They name the bar, “The Bar”.

Amy disappears on their wedding anniversary, and Nick becomes the prime suspect.

However she didn’t disappear, she’s hiding.

Gillian Flynn has written a plot driven novel that I read quickly and was reviewed favorably, but I could have put the book down easily. The twisted ending was a turn off for me. The movie also has the same distortion of love, or love gone crazy ending. I like happy endings.

“As The Washington Post proclaimed, her work ‘draws you in and keeps you reading with the force of a pure but nasty addiction.’ Gone Girl’s toxic mix of sharp-edged wit with deliciously chilling prose creates a nerve-fraying thriller that confounds you at every turn.”

Amy’s disappearance is not to vanish, perish or cease to exist. Her vanishing act is one of revenge and dysfunction, concocted when she discovers Nick’s infidelity. Victimized and  bamboozled Amy plans to get even and does.

I can imagine the survey/questionnaire Gillian Flynn might ask readers to take about her character, Amy.

What makes this character happy?

A.  If you can’t have the one you love make sure no one else can either.

B.  Make everyone who hurts or disappoints you suffer for the rest of their lives.

C.  Inflicting pain on others is key to personal happiness.

D. All of the above

The author, Gillian says “she was not a nice little girl,” and “Libraries are filled with stories on generations of brutal men, trapped in a cycle of aggression. I wanted to write about the violence of women”

“The point is, women have spent so many years girl-powering ourselves — to the point of almost parodic encouragement — we’ve left no room to acknowledge our dark side. Dark sides are important. They should be nurtured like nasty black orchids.”

Have you read the book or seen the movie?

                                                                                         . . . just saying

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What are you reading?

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Jackie and Maria

Recently, my husband and I flew on Allegiant Airline from Florida to Albany, New York. The plane was on time, a direct flight, and the staff accommodating and friendly.

However, I hope I never have to fly this airline again.  

Why? There are caveats, aka; Allegiant’s nickel and dime approach to flying.

Ordering the tickets on-line was a nightmare. I’d purchased two round-trip tickets, I thought. The total cost was $659.50, and included two seats, (neither one of us wanted to stand on the trip), the fee to carry-on our bags and the cancellation option. The constant pop-ups through-out the process made me dizzy. I even signed up for their credit card, because I thought I had to.

Twenty-four hours before, I checked myself-in. But couldn’t check-in my husband.

Come to find out, after hanging on hold for one plus hours, and listening to a constant reminder to resolve your flight concerns on-line, I spoke to a human. They convinced me I’d purchased only one ticket. I argued. . . that can’t be. . . I paid for two seats.

So, I bought an additional ticket, last minute, paid again for the seat next to me, that I’d already paid for, and checked luggage for a cost of $ 461.50.

When everything was said and done, the cost for two round trip tickets was $1,121.00!

I was in tears and my husband standing behind me said, “Pay them whatever they want, you can’t go alone.” I felt like a hostage and he was paying ransom.

ONE THOUSAND AND ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-ONE DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS, to fly from Florida to New York, on Allegiant, the cheap airline.

Now do the math. The flight was full, 180 seats. If every passenger paid $461.50, the airline took in $90,000. If they paid $659.50, the take would be $118.710.

So, Allegiant collected between 90 and 119 thousand dollars for a two hour and fifteen-minute direct flight.

 But. . . money was made elsewhere. Snacks and beverages; and you pay for water. The only thing free was use of the toilet. Rumor has it toilet paper will be an add on soon.

Last, but not least, (don’t get you panties in a twist) you must have the Allegiant app on your phone, or print your boarding pass at home, otherwise it will cost you $5 to have it printed at the airport.

Whew! Talk about stress. I thought I would lose my mind.

BUT! We landed early!

                                                               * * *

The sun was out the first day of our vacation and the next, for our family gathering. It was wonderful.

However, it rained everyday thereafter.

 Fortunately, my sister, Mel, gave me a book.  Jackie and Maria, by Gill Paul (historical-fiction) and I couldn’t put it down.

I often quote Jackie Kennedy Onassis’s response to the interview question, “Mrs. Kennedy, what is your greatest accomplishment? Jackie said, “I didn’t lose my mind.” I guess she never flew Allegiant.

After reading Jackie and Maria, it was a miracle she didn’t. Evidently though, she was a compulsive shopper.  I totally enjoyed this read.

You’ll find more reviews on goodreads.    

                                                                                         . . . just saying

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It’s Fathers Day

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Sweet Memories

The pedaling of an old man riding a wide-tire bicycle grabs my attention as I drive Acoma road. The methodical around and around of the bike’s wheels is mesmerizing.  I press the car brakes, slow to a crawl and drop back, to give the senior space, as we approach the corner stop.

He wears red Keds, and a large droopy straw hat shades his face from the morning sun. He sports a long sleeve plaid shirt and hazardous baggy Dockers. The blue and chrome fender bike has no basket or hand brakes.

Behind him rides a man in a metallic Speedo shirt, and black skin-tight shorts.  He wears a helmet and mustache, and he does not pass abruptly. Instead, he moves to coast gently beside the elder, a solid traffic barrier.  They ease the corner, two abreast, like dancing a Minuet synchronized to Chopin.

I stop at the corner. . . rather than go straight. I turn right. . . and follow them, absorbing their relationship.

They are a pair. Paternal. Their head, back, and shoulders are a younger/older version, of the other.  The son deliberately peddles ahead, never looks back, but hoovers; and allows his father to ride independently. The old man’s bike wheels don’t wobble. The handlebars do not shake. There is an air of pride accompanying his movement.

As they resume their single file adventure, I drive by, see his wrinkled face, and guess the elder is eighty. I catch a glimpse of the son’s full head of peppered gray hair, and face with minimal expression lines, when passing, and guess . . . he’s nearing sixty.

My mind conjures a past Father’s Day,

I imagine it is 1958, the father wears the same plaid shirt, Dockers and Keds. The son, is dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. The father, leads the way with subtle protectiveness and allows the son to celebrate his newly acquired skill, riding a bike.

“Daddy, look at me!” He yells with a big smile.

Today is Father’s Day 2012. I watch the pair celebrate with the simple act of being together. Pedaling their bicycles, and needing each other in a different way.

                                                                               . . . just saying

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*Post was originally published in 2012, over ten years ago.

Mother Nature and Normal

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 Back To Normal

We were lucky not to be hard hit by hurricane Ian. That is not the case for much of Florida and many west coast areas will never be the same. We were without power for one day due to heavy rains and wind. But any down tree branches were easily hauled to the street by us.

It is with great angst that I post the picture of clean-up in our neighborhood.

The pictures for Sanibel Island and Fort Worth are devastating. The death toll for Florida was high, seventy-seven. A few of those deaths were in our area. One, a man in his seventies, attempted to empty water from his pool (to avoid flooding into his home) slipped down an embankment into a pond and drowned.

A sixty-eight-year-old woman tourist went to the beach to view Ian and while standing on A1A was swept away by a swell; into the ocean, and dragged out to sea. That’s how powerful the surge was.

Newly restored Flager Beach Pier was swept sideways and under water. New Smyrna beach and Port Orange had extreme flooding, loss of power and business in their area are just now starting to open.

My heart breaks for those who did not fare well.

Today the weather is perfect. No humidity, temperatures below normal and sunny. I wonder what Mother Nature is thinking.

(The pictures below were in today’s newspaper and show the damage south of us in Daytona Beach and Port Orange.)

                                                                                      . . . just saying

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What’s In Your Future?

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Photo by Maksym Tymchyk on Pexels.com

A Tiny House

I’ve heard (can’t remember where or by whom), that the trouble with aging is we think more about the past, worry about the present, and think little of the future. At my age, seventy-four, even in the best of health, the next ten to twenty years will be entirely different than the past twenty. It’s a different time in my life and I can be grumpy and mad, or think about the future.

Recently my horoscope said, “You have to go to where the light is.”

I live in Florida. There is plenty of light and wear sunglasses to take out the garbage.

The advice, by Holiday Mathis, who writes the syndicated daily horoscope column for hundreds of newspapers, is the author of several books, and a multi-platinum songwriter (her songs have been recorded by Miley Cyrus, Emma Roberts and others), made sense.

References to moving into the light, implies embracing spirituality.

Perhaps I should attend church more.

Moving into the light suggest death or afterlife.

I’m not ready to die, but. . . maybe I need to avoid route 95 and look 20, instead of 10 times, before backing out of a parking space.

Although. . . It could mean; avoid negativity and surround myself with bright cheery people, places and things.

If I close my eyes and dream about the future, what do I see? A tiny house with lots of windows and a river view. The above picture doesn’t truly capture the picture in my head. I’m thinking more like this.

. . . just saying

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Poetry and Tidying Up

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Summer in Florida is like winter in the north, Floridians stay indoors. It’s a time to get organized and tidy up. So, I went through my writing stuff, and discovered some poetry. This one was inspired by social media in November of 2012.

Sharing

By Claudiajustsaying

We publicly post our words

Text, twitter and talk.

Likes keep us playing the game

Comments share a thought.

Then, tease each other about being friends

“Tell me a secret and I’ll tell you mine.”

Social media is a push pull effect . . .

But, what is a friend?

. . . just saying

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Day Eight Back In Florida

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At Denver Airport in the morning, there was no transport person!

There was however, one wheel chair inside the door, which I grabbed away from an elderly woman; took outside, put Bob in and brought him indoors; where I could see him while checking in.

Thank God for Betsy and Bill. They waited curbside looking after Bob and our luggage while I’d been inside. We had a tearful goodbye.

Now the attendant assigned to us appeared. However, he had another person in tow. Before I could blink, he took off for security pushing two wheel chairs. I scurried behind.

I had instructed my husband, to lie about his age going through security and say he is 75 years old, this way he wouldn’t have to take off his shoes or stand up.

Praise the Lord, we didn’t wait in line. The second transport, a woman, was late for her flight and checked her Apple watch repeatedly, as I piled her carry on belongings into bins.

Then Homeland Security was about to wand Bob, and I panicked.

“Don’t do that!” I yelled as I raced to Bob’s side. “His arm is broken!” .

“STEP BACK LADY,” he bellowed with his hand on his gun.

 Bob remembered to lie. But said he was 74, not 75 yrs old. He is 73. Men!

The ordeal had me shaken, but not for long because. . . now. . . “transport guy” was racing toward a waiting train. I realized he was getting on and followed, running, but I couldn’t keep up. So, before the doors closed, jumped in any car. . . and started to spill my guts to a stranger I was now face to face with.

I couldn’t even remember the terminal our flight would leave from, although the tickets were in my hand. I was dizzy, although it may have been my vertigo.

When I caught my breath, I saw “transport guy” in the next car. He waved.

I’ll skip the flight and transport ordeal on the arrival side and simply say we were picked up by our daughter, Janine and grandson, Dominic.

We drove directly to the emergency room of our local hospital and waited six hours before Bob had an emergency room bed. Sometime later, he was given morphine for pain. The next day, day nine, Bob was admitted for surgery. The surgery, delayed due to an allergic reaction, was on day twelve, June 26th, our 51st Wedding Anniversary.

Every step along the way had sidesteps and challenges. He now has a nine-inch rod in his arm and three weeks post operation is doing well.

As Betsy, Bill, Bob and I lamented, this was one hell of a Yellowstone trip.   

. . . just saying

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The Day Wasn’t Over

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Sun Set Grand Tetons Park 9PM

I would love to tell you we returned to the $400+ dollar night Inn and got a good night’s rest. . . but, the day wasn’t over yet.

Bill and I were helping Bob out of the car, when his face went, “lights out.” I grabbed his chin and looked directly into his eyes. “Talk to me! What’s happening?” Then, he fell to his knees. I think we all screamed.

Fortunately, a nurse and her strong husband had just left their cabin and knew how to support Bob without injuring his fractured shoulder more and moved him to a chair in our cabin. Betsy called 911.

Hotel staff arrived in a flash and determined acute pain caused his near collapse. We got him into bed, double dosed the pain medication, and gave him something for nausea.

My beginning to catch a breath was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was another staff member with paperwork to sign. A kid, probably my grandson’s age.

Understandably the hotel needed to document the incidents. I reassured him it was a simple trip and fall. We weren’t going to solicit a lawyer.

Like Danny on Blue Blood’s, he handed me paper and pen. “In your own words. If you wouldn’t mind.” He expressed his appreciation once the forms where completed and asked . . . emphatically, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Well there was. My concern was getting Bob, weak and under the influence, to the bathroom. How many times does an 73 man void during the night? I’d lost count.

“Do you have a urinal?”

“No,” he said, embarrassed.

On the counter behind him was my wide mouth water bottle. I glanced its way, his eyes followed mine.

“Problem solved,” I said.

Shortly after, Betsy brought me dinner. A pork sandwich with homemade cold slaw she’d packed. Remember if the park opened food might be hard to find. Oh yes and a large bottle of wine.

It was around 10PM and the sun had finally set.

. . . just saying

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