JCK88

Those are gorgeous! You could can some...but I think the dehydrating idea is best for such an abundance. (Go ahead laugh at me..I forgot you refer to the kids as monkeys...and I thought for a minute somehow you had a colony of wild monkeys of the animal variety down there attacking your trees LOL :::::::::::thwacking self on head::::

Sometimes you just can't win for losing....keeping you in our prayers here..may you have more productive days ahead! Hugs

I'll say it here, right out loud. I never went to my prom. Neither did my husband. We, two self-proclaimed geeks, have a social butterfly daughter. Pretty, athletic, smart and funny, this girl has always easily made friends, won sporting events, and has gone through her life embracing everyone and everything with a caring heart. There's an easy explanation for this. She's adopted. She didn't get the double geek genes from her parents. Lucky escape. So it was some months back that she first broached the subject of prom. It was February and the love of the moment lived across the state. He was some guy she met at a track meet. Our girl is a medal-winning discus thrower, nationally ranked. She had found herself a thrower boyfriend and approached us with the the idea that she'd like to attend her school's prom with him. Thus, we trekked on over to Portsmouth, NH to someplace called Madeline's daughter and began the search for the prom dress. She found one--cost $400. I said no. I said no, even knowing that having a dress like that hanging in your closet could boost your self-confidence for months. I said no, even when the grandma offered to buy it. I said no even when the kid offered to pay half. I just couldn't see us spending that kind of money on a dress. Not in these times. Well, not in any time, actually. So we searched and found a pattern similar to the THE dress and I found fabric on ebay that ALMOSt matched the fabric on the dress. The waist of the store-bought dress came to a point and was lined with rows of bugle beads. The fabric was zebra striped with a lovely border of tropical flowers on the bottom. The fabric I found was so much like the dress...except no border of tropical flowers. It had flowers randomly scattered across it, though, in colors of pink, yellow and blue. Thank goodness for ebay. I found a zebra-striped beaded bag on ebay for ten bucks. For the beaded waist, I spent many nights sewing bugle beads with alternating stripes of black satin ribbon. It looked pretty good when I got done. We found shoes at Payless on clearance--and got them even further marked down because one of them needed some glue. Add an evening stole original price $50 from Coldwater Creek that I got for $7.99 and she had the outfit ready to go. A friend's mom did her hair. She bought a hair clip and we glued feathers to make a nice little hair decoration, and since the theme was midnight masquerade, I found myself gluing similar feathers to make a matching mask--the elegant kind on a stick for evening wear. Even as I prepared, I worried about the whole idea of my daughter going to a prom. My neighbor had remarked the other day that it was like putting your name in a death lottery. "Someone always gets killed doing something stupid prom night, " she remarked. Our community is already reeling from a fatal accident three weeks ago in which two 16-year-old classmates of my daughter were killed. The driver of the car is still in critical condition and doesn't know his best friends are dead. We've already been talking about driver safety, not speeding, and remembering to wear seat belts. We'd attended their funerals and I'd held my daughter's hand as she cried and promised me to never drive too fast. But prom raises the specter of underage drinking, which usually happens at the after-prom parties. We worried about the parties Katy would decide to attend. We were concerned about the distance her boyfriend was going to have to drive. And then.... a month ago, she broke up with the boy. She announced, "Don't bother finishing up the dress, mom. I'm not going." So I left it laying on the sewing table and didn't finish it. But three days before prom, she told me, "I decided I want to go, Mom, can you finish the dress?" She asked a friend of hers, a boy from a track team in a neighboring town, but not a thrower, a runner. They weren't going as a romantic duo, just as friends who wanted to have fun. They each paid for their own ticket. This wasn't a real date, they insisted. (He did give her a good night kiss, though, I peeked, LOL) So there I was, scrambling to put the finishing touches on the dress on Friday afternoon for the Saturday prom. The straps on the halter dress were not quite right and it took me four hours to get it right, then re-sew the little beads we had picked for the trim. As it was, I still needed to make little thread loops for some buttons on the back on Saturday morning. Well, the evening long-awaited became a day long-to-be-remembered as I snapped photos of Katy and her friend--and they headed off with another couple of friends to the nursing home to see my mother before they headed to prom. The staff and residents at the home were thrilled to see them, said they looked like movie stars, and clapped as they walked down the hall to mom's room. Katy was to be home by midnight --and even though the prom ended at 11, she and her friends had time to go to an all-night diner and have pie on the way on home and still make it here by then. They were tired and happy and her date called his mom to say he'd be home soon, which warmed my heart toward the young man considerably, I must add. When he left, I asked Katy about the after-prom parties. "Mom, I didn't make myself available for those. You know what they do at most of them--and I know for a fact that there will be alcohol at many of them and no parents at some of them. So I didn't go. It was more fun going out for pie with my group." She told me about the crowds of kids and how everyone was dancing with everyone else and laughing so hard. "Mom, the principal told me I looked fabulous and I danced with my science teacher Mrs. Beach. It was crazy and it was great and I'm exhausted!" With that, she headed off to bed and was soon asleep. But I, all keyed up with the worry, and not able to calm to down, sat for a while in the living room sipping chocolate soy milk pondering how blessed I am to have a daughter home and safe after the prom--home and safe and happy.

Awww..it's hard when friends pack up and move. As a person who has moved all over the country, my friends are a patchwork map of long-distance relationships now. True friends stick with you, though, even over the miles. Hugs!

Angela, I could have told you about the MRI being noisy...but I didn't think to. (I had one of my HEAD..imagine that NOISE! Like you have your head in a helmet and they are pelting you with a zillion hail stones) Can't wait to see pics of your garden!

We messed around with our PB powder some years back and our successful experiments included molasses, a little salt--and some chocolate powder. The cocoa we had mixed with water and sugar first. We also mixed some with the molasses for one batch. We made chocolate peanut butter this way--although we all thought it tasted more chocolate than PB, LOL I think to really enjoy this product, you have to "forget" the regular taste of your jarred PB. So it might be something you bring out of the preps when people have been pining for PB without having it for a while....you'll have complete "success" at that point. We have used the Emergency Essentials recipes for PB cookies. They are pretty good.

Not sure how much I can contribute to the discussion, but I'm all ears. Thanks Cat for doing this!

A little beauty!

LOL Vic, just think what the dog would do if the alarm actually went off! (He'd probably drag you from under the covers!) Feel better!!

Most of what we do every day seems "boring." But you know what? It's the little things in life that often are most significant. How we spend our days in doing our work, prepping, taking care of families, trying to juggle all the stuff we must do and keep it all straight--well that's the stuff of real life, the stuff we would miss most if we got stuck in a nursing a home or something. So any time life is dull--rejoice! (Nothing BAD is happening in that case) Hugz!

"I'm tired and I'm living in the last half of my life." Those words aren't mine. They belong to my former English Composition professor and they appeared in an essay he wrote about sitting in a cafe in Paris contemplating his growing older. For some reason they stuck in my head. And for another reason, they sometimes pop into my head. Like today. It's been a rough month. Sjogren's Syndrome makes me tired enough--and April is Sjogren's Awareness month, by the way. So I'm going to be talking about it at some point. You were warned. My mother had bronchitis so bad she had to be hospitalized. Long nights and days at the hospital watching her oxygen machine got me thinking that life is indeed short. It was not long ago that my mother was a lithe lady in high heels wearing hat and gloves with her full skirted dresses as she drove toddlers to the store in her 1945 Buick. Now, the toddlers are senior citizens and she needs a wheelchair. Someone has to pick her up and transfer her to the car. She's paralyzed on one side by a stroke. (And May is National Stroke Awareness, so I'll be talking about that at some point, too. ) So it got to me today, as I tried to not be anxious about the passing of time and its effect on those I love. I'm tired. I'm living in the last half of my life. I'm even a little depressed lately and don't like leaving the house anymore. I thought of my professor and wished I could have these thoughts in the City of Light like he did. I could use some distance from my life. Maybe I could even use a new perspective. For perspective, there's nobody better than my mom. Apparently seeing life from a motorized wheel chair makes a person bolder. Or maybe it's the stroke. It is said that stroke survivors often are more impulsive--something to do with brain damage. Their personalities can even change. But my mom is still the same--only enhanced. It's like Mom on energy drinks or something. She says the most outrageous things that seem funny but really are like cold buckets of truth tossed in the face. I told her how I'd been feeling, dragged out, tired, finished, washed up. And she laughed. She laughed long and loud and had to get a drink of water because it set her coughing. "Look around dear, " she said. "I can't even get out of my chair without help and let me tell you honey, I am not washed up, finished. I'm just tired. But if I'm tired, I take a nap. I have to ASK someone to put me in the bed, but if I want to nap, I ask. You, you don't have to ask. Go take a nap." It reminded me of the day in the hospital when my daughter, worried that Grandma was dying, texted me and asked if this were true. I told mom and she said, between bites of baked salmon, "Tell her that anybody who can eat like I am is not going to die today!" So, in the grand tradition of my mom, I am going to make a really good lunch right now and appreciate every single bite. Then, I am going to take a nap. When I wake up, I'm going to go see her. I'm going to bring her some tulips and daffodils in pots and plant them right outside her window. Thinking of it makes me feel better already. After all, I'm tired and so is she. But neither of us finished. There's some fight in us yet. We're not beaten. Just beat. And as for living in the last half of my life? She's 82, claims the first hundred years are the hardest, and points out that "He who endures to the end will gain everlasting life." Nothing like a little bucket of cold water in the face to refresh a gal, I always say. Now...to lunch! And beyond!

Angela, over the years, you have taught ME plenty. Thanks. Good job on the impromptu class! I KNOW it was hit.

Oh I can so relate to this, Stephanie. We very rarely eat out and now that we are used to eating at home, everyone is noticing something interesting: the food is BETTER at home, LOL!!! Daughter is having prom night dinner here, catered by mom and dad, who will treat dd and guest as if they are in a five star restaurant. Which, when you come to think of it..we ARE, haha. Cooking from scratch....the BEST

I love your recipies...and your notes. (that one about the pink Zote for example sums up my thoughts its scent, too, LOL)

The ides of March for me have been bad. March 8 seems a diabolical anniversary. On this date, in 1973, I got engaged to someone I thought was a wonderful, God-fearing man. I soon learned he was domineering, tyrannical, and abusive but I thought I had to stay with him anyway because the church said I had to and my minister said it was God's will that I do. God hates a divorcing, they told me. So I resolved to make it work. Within 6 years, on March 8, I had cancer surgery for the first time. Five years to the DAY, on March 8, 1984, I had cancer surgery for the second time. When I woke up in my hospital room, there was sitting there a lady from my mother's church who had been a nurse. She was crying and she came over and took my hand and asked me how I was. In a few minutes, I learned why she was crying--my husband had come and told her some news he was soon to share with me. She was still holding my hand when he came into the room to see me. He looked grim. I figured the cancer was so bad I was dying. I steeled myself. "I can't do this again, " he said. "I'm getting a divorce. I'm not going through this cancer crap anymore." and he walked out. I never saw him again until August, in divorce court. Even then, he never would look me in the eye. The lady from my mom's church stayed with me for hours and I think she was more upset than I was. She sent others from her church over. My parents were by then moved out of state, but mom had sent all of her friends to see me and help me. I was a college student. I was almost done with an Associate's degree. I was an intern at the local newspaper. But now I was going to have to add divorce and chemo to my schedule. Somehow, I did it. I finished first in my class at the community college, was named graduation speaker, and won a scholarship to Boston University. I didn't take any incompletes. But it was hard. It was harder than I thought to break up a marriage that wasn't all that wonderful to begin with. It was hard to be sick and to be alone. It was hard just to learn to rely on God and forge ahead. I was scared. I was lonely. I was, before this, afraid to call up and order a pizza. I had stayed at home most of the time because I had been poor and had no car. I sold stained glass things at flea markets to pay for my community college tuition. The only full-time jobs I'd had were working for my ex's relatives. At one job, I learned how to be a florist and worked in a greenhouse. So, with two years of college left and chemo to get through, I went to my newspaper editor and begged him to hire me full time and let me work around my college commute to Boston for classes. He readily agreed when I suggested he make it a trial basis, because he hesitated at first. In two months, he said he was glad he'd done it and I even got a raise and my own column which became popular enough for me to get hate mail and weird love letters asking me out on dates. The whole experience cured my shyness. I figured that if I didn't speak up then, I could die and nobody would have known I was here. So now I say what I mean and I mean what I say and apologize later if I got it wrong. I thought of all this today as it is now 25 years that I am cancer free. I often wonder how this could come about when one doctor had given me three months to live. It's been an interesting "three months." I've worked some big and small newspapers, fell in love with a man who turned out to be even more wonderful than I hoped, and became an adoptive mom to a pretty great kid. But somehow, on this date, I feel a little sad--or I used to. My family changed it for me greatly. On this date, they bring me flowers, they call it "Mom's Life Day" and they take me to dinner and tell me they are glad I'm alive. On this day, 25 years later, we are headed to Brown University in RI for a weight throw competition for Katy--and we are going all be together enjoying the whole day. So on this date, which has been the anniversary for a lot of pain, I'm feeling pretty blessed. For the last decade or so, the pain has been erased and replaced with memories of good times. So I'm off now to make a new one, and bury that old horror just a little bit more. Happy Life Day!

Oh my...what a challenge to create a better dish than his mom's !! I had to laugh about the "kosher" sausage. BTW, if you like gravy at all, it is possible to make this with sausage-flavored TVP and have it be nearly grease free and still really kosher!

Glad to have you here, Karelle. Welcome aboard.

Yikes! Physical therapy sometimes is NOT fun. It can make you feel worse although in the long run it HELPS! Wishing you the best and hoping they find some kind of good treatment for you!

Carter is gorgeous!

Vic, it's the time of year and the news and the stress of life. Don't let it get you down. Plunge forward. Get some sun if there is any, even if it's cold out--and remember to PRAY and BREATHE! Hugs If it helps to know, I've been feeling exactly as you describe.

I think you did a great job with a limited budget. You are SO creative!

LOL LOL My brother would give me the shirt off his back if I needed it and we love each other dearly. (But he lives in the south and I live in the north, LOL) :lol:

LOL..you've learned that classic lesson of life: You can't say hello to the new thing without completely saying goodbye to the old! {{{C4C}}}

Oh...Any way to delegate the gardening? Hoping that all goes well. Perhaps it's best to fix this rather than wait, even if it is going to be not fun. {{WG}}