Tuesday, November 21, 2017

It's Not Okay

If all people come out and say that they have all done it, does that make it okay (right, normal, accepted, forgiven, legal, permitted, moral)?

Remember the biggest excuse that you ever gave when you were young was, "everyone else is doing it." Back then it was maybe staying out late or letting your hair grow or wearing frayed jeans. Today it may be borrowing your friend's Netflix or driving 10 or miles above the speed limit or spending way too much time "socializing" with strangers on social media.

But does it make the act right just because it has become the norm? I hate to open the "news" each morning to find out who else has done what "everyone else is doing or has done."

Thursday, November 9, 2017

My Momma's Blog

My mother wrote the following blogpost exactly five years ago at the age of 87 years old.

Good and Bad Times.

For those of us who have survived all the ups and downs and good and bad times, we have a lot of stories. Let me share one of mine.

I am one of the depression children. Calvin Coolidge was president when I was born. His term was 1923-1929, and then came Herbert Clark Hoover who served from 1929-1933.These were the worst financial times in the history of our nation. It was a bad time for every body, especially for farm families like us. The banks were closed because there was no money and our little school closed because there was no way to pay the teachers. In our family there were five school age children who needed an education.

The school was finally opened, but you had to pay tuition to be able to go there. Our family couldn't afford the tuition, so when I got old enough to go to school I was taught by my older sisters. They taught me to read and write and do first grade work. I missed two years of public schooling. When I did get to start to school, I was put in the second grade. I was still one year behind the other children. I tried so hard every day at school to catch up. We had second and third grades in the same room with the same teacher. I would listen to her teach third grade and hope that she would move me up, but it never happened.

We walked two miles to school every morning and afternoon in the cold and rain  of winter. On some of the worst days our neighbor who had a car would give us a ride. Our road to school was a dirt road and it could be pretty muddy at times. So you can imagine what it was like at the time. Muddy shoes and wet clothes. We'd stand by the coal stove to warm our bodies and dry our clothes. Our clothes were hand made by our mom. She made them all, outer wear, underwear and even made overshoes out of inner tubes for the boys to wear around the feed lots. We never felt ashamed because we wore these things with pride. Our neighbors were in the same boat with us. Everybody was poor. Thinking back, we children didn't know we were poor. We had a nice family and parents who loved us.

Our lunches consisted of whatever food we could put together on that day so we could something to eat. There was no lunch room. We did the best we could.

Virginia Ridge Chapman (1925-2015)
Ridges of Lee County

Throw Back

Events of the last year threw me back. In fact, events of last year may have even thrown my back back. I thought that I was coping with the news (old and new), but this has not been my best year of my 69 years. Losing my mom and my confidante two years ago was difficult, but I am sure that the last 366 days have been more so.

Without dwelling more on what has been, I am moving forward. We finally put Facebook away as we should have done last December when we first discussed that break. There was a good reason that I never joined it personally, since I knew it wasn't right for me. 

I am a blogger, and I like to take photos. If I can just puzzle out how to get my photos on my blogposts again, I will be all set. Plus my Wetcreek Instagram is working out okay. 

Now, since I have that under control, can't someone figure out how to solve the other problems of the world?


Monday, November 6, 2017

Do You Ever Make Dog Bread?

Dog Bread

My mother sometimes made bread in a skillet on top of the cookstove and called it "dog bread." Although I have all of her favorite recipes in a recipe book handwritten by her, I don't think that she ever wrote down the recipe for "dog bread."

As I had about 1 1/2 cups of Greek yogurt that was still good but looked like curdled milk after spending 6 months in our freezer here at the Beltway Apartment, I remembered that you could make bread from equal amounts of some milk product and self-rising flour. I found a recipe for pizza crust or pita bread using equal amounts of Greek yogurt and self-rising flour and then frying it up in a lightly olive oiled hot skillet on the top of the stove.

After adding extra flour to keep the sticky dough from gluing my fingers together and flattening small pancake size pieces, I fried up the "dog bread." 

Our dogs are thousands of miles away, but I bet some hummus would be delicious on these bread patties.

Sunday, November 5, 2017

We Go Places

Maybe you remember the question that our Baptist friend asked me a couple of months ago. "What do y'all do over there in Holland on vacation twice a year?"

Besides watch television ( as she assumed that we had available), we go places. 

Once it was Sicily. Another time it was Morocco. And we have even been to Croatia, Serbia, Mostar, and Montenegro. I could name all of the other countries, but these impress even me.

So we go places.

This visit we did not leave The Netherlands, but we had a couple of family members who came for short visits. Former travel guide hubby was in his element with tours of Amsterdam, The Hague, and Rotterdam. We even visited tourist attractions like Kinderdijk, where neither he nor I had ever been. And we finally toured Castle Cannenburgh in Vaassen that we missed last Spring (and almost missed this Fall🙄). 

Yep, we go places.

Wednesday, October 25, 2017

What Auto is This?

All of the fellows I know who have the same name as my hubby have been automobile fanatics. This W.C. Fields "dubbelganger" is my hub's grandfather. Maybe we can figure out more about the car.

The Prik

Yep. I promised to keep this blog clean, but today it was the prick.

Griep Prik😩

In English that is the flu shot.

We walked over to our Dutch doctors clinic this afternoon for our yearly flu pricks. Most of the "patients" had pink pieces of paper which were invitations to come by from 4-6:30 pm. When it was our turn, we simply gave our names, birthdates, and our doctor's name. The assistant made the notations, handed us our syringes, and we joined the short waiting lines.

No tables, no chairs. Just push up your sleeve, "here we go," and slap on a small bandaid.

Getting my windbreaker back on was the biggest effort I made. Now to see if this "prickly" feeling in my left arm does its job. We haven't had the flu in a couple of years, and I hope that good luck continues.