Dreams can come true.

On the 50th anniversary of an amazing speech by a visionary, much more than a dreamer, I offer an encore post with a dream of my own.

A Mother’s Dream

I dream that differences will be valued, not disdained.

Eye color, hair color, body shapes, and skin shades will be appreciated for their beauty and variety.

Cultural traditions will not disappear, but will thrive and grow together into a rich and fascinating sharing of knowledge and beliefs.
I dream that blindness will be merely a different way of seeing, and deafness impair only the quantity, not the quality of the language ‘heard’.
Children will matter because they own the future. Their education, academic and social, will become and remain of utmost importance.
The mediators and the peacemakers will be recognized as the strongest leaders.
Questions will come from curiosity, not ignorance, and the answers will breed respect.

Knowing each other, knowing ourselves, will lead to knowing that fights and conflicts, wars of all kinds, will cease to be of value.

 

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To Discount or not to Discount?

This is an encore post appropriate for the back to school season. I might print the flyer sent out through school email and try for the discount again this year. 

I noticed a Walgreens store across town with a sign advertising teacher discounts on Wednesdays in August. I had a shopping list ready, so I decided to try out the store closest to my home, conveniently located on my route to and from school. First, I looked at their sign to see if they were advertising the discount deal.

Hmmm. Maybe not. Is this the advertising equivalent of the blank stare? So I waited a moment, and the sign changed – to this.


I took a chance, went in anyway, and filled my cart. Discount or not, there were many good advertised deals on my list. With a cart full of contact solutions, shampoos, hearing aid batteries, and buy-one get-one vitamins, I proceeded to the checkout with my teacher ID in hand and a question on the tip of my tongue: “I saw the sign on another store in town. Are you also offering the teacher discount?”
Remember the blank stare in the first picture? It was mirrored on her face. “Uh– I don’t know. I’ll call the manager.” She did, the manager said yes, so the clerk sent me to the correct register for specials like this and paged the other clerk, who joined the Blank Face Brigade as she started up her register. “Uh – I don’t know. I’ll call the manager.” This call included, “How do I ring this up?”
In the end, I did get the discount. Lack of knowledge aside, the store clerks were helpful and willing to ask, and the manager was willing to guide them through the process.
I didn’t mention the signs. I thought they had enough on their minds.
Update: This year, Walgreen’s might be targeting a different crowd. As seen on Facebook:
'Nuff said.

‘Nuff said.

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Apple Butter Time!

I looked through all of my apple butter options and decided this was the best. It’s a combination  of two different recipes, with the lemon juice adjusted to keep the acidity in the right range.

part I:

Ingredients

  • Apples, 12-14 medium or 10-12 large (fill crockpot about 3/4 full)
  • 1 Tablespoon vanilla

Directions

Core and quarter apples. Let sit in a big bowl with a little citric acid to prevent browning Since apple butter turns out a lovely deep shade of brown, you might skip the citric acid. I keep it in for its acidity. In the past I’ve had a hard time taking out the peels because the finished product was so thick. This time around, I’m going to use my food mill. I anticipate good results.

Place apples and vanilla in crock pot. Cover and cook on low for 6-8 hours or until apples are very soft.

After cooking, mash apples with fork or potato masher.

Part II:

Ingredients

  • 2 teaspoons cinnamon
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 1 cup brown sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon cloves
  • 1 Tablespoon molasses (optional)
  • 1/4 cup lemon juice

Directions

Add second ingredient list. Cover apple mix (now sauce-like) again and cook on low for 4-6 hours. If you like your apple butter smooth (I do), blend with an immersion blender.

This is very thick and flavorful and ideal for gift-giving. Serve on bread, graham crackers, or in place of the jelly on a PBJ. More ideas? Add comments, please! I’d love to hear them.

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Hogwarts, the sequel

Well, people, Amigo is settled into his apartment and we are trying to get used to life as empty nest types. It’ll be easier when we’re sure that Amigo is successfully settled into his uptown apartment and actually feeding himself regular meals. Meanwhile, you can review the internal evidence that Hogwarts does, indeed, exist in Minnesota.

A few days ago, you saw the outside and the entrance to Minnesota’s answer to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now lets follow Amigo and his parents (Daisy and Chuck) as they scope out the fascinating place.

Conveniently located for floo powder travel

The director has a huge working fireplace in her office. Many other rooms have fireplaces, but none are this big.

Speaking of rooms, when I asked to use the rest room, they showed me to the hidden door in the wall.

Myrtle? Are you in there?

To get to the second floor, we had to go up the ancient wooden steps. Luckily, these stayed in place; none of that bad habit of changing directions every other Tuesday. Or was it Thursday?

How many staircases are in the Hogwarts castle?

On the second floor we were certain that this was a division of Hogwarts, U.S.A. Could these lampholders exist anywhere else?

Holder of the Light

There’s more to behold – later. For now, the answer to the above question. How many staircases are in the Hogwarts castle? Well?

142, of course. “…wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday…”

Oh, the white thing in the top picture? I honestly don’t remember. Maybe it’s the mansion’s ghost, Mrs. Pillsbury. She’s supposed to be friendly.

Readers, Amigo is enrolled at this historic mansion now. Given his outgoing and friendly nature, Mrs. Pillsbury is probably giving him tours of all the secret passageways. 

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Bunny Wisdom

This list beats the heck out of learning life’s lessons in kindergarten. In a home like ours, it’s no surprise to find it in my archives. Here you are, readers; don’t worry, be hoppy.

Everything I Needed to Know I learned from the Easter Bunny

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

Walk softly and carry a big carrot.

Everyone needs a friend who is all ears.

There’s no such thing as too much candy.

All work and no play can make you a basket case.

A cute little tail attracts a lot of attention.

Everyone is entitled to a bad hare day.

Let happy thoughts multiply like rabbits.

Some body parts should be floppy.

Keep your paws off other people’s jellybeans.

Good things come in small-sugar coated packages.

The grass is greener in someone else’s basket.

The best things in life are still sweet and gooey.

An Easter bonnet can cover the wildest hare.

Krumpet says hello.

Krumpet says hello.

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Storing the canning supplies

Oh, I was so proud last June. I organized the cupboards, cleared a space, and the storage for my home-canned goods looked great. Here’s an encore post showing the stock and the storage. 

There must be a better way.

This is the “before” picture. I’ve increased my repertoire of canned foods every year, and with that increase in recipes came an increased yield. Then comes the question: where do I keep all these provisions? And after we finish each jar of pickles or jam or applesauce, where will I keep the reusable jars? Above you see the dilemma in June: a partial shelf of pickles and jams and applesauce and rhubarb waiting for their day on the table, surrounded by empty canning jars and freezer containers.

Something here must go.

Step 1: I cleaned out half the books at the top.

Step 2: I gathered boxes for a thrift store donation (shelves out of sight on the left).

Step 3: I relocated the crockpot and reorganized the jars by size.

Step 4: Move in!!

Ah. That’s better.

Readers, this is the “after” shot – the “after” shot for June. After I’ve canned my way through June and July and even part of August, this cupboard will look very different. I’ll be sure to show you then. Remind me. Really.

Okay, readers. I now have at least double that amount of empty jars, and I never did show you August, did I? Expect a sequel as I work on decluttering – as much decluttering as my still-weak left side will allow. 

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Flat Stanley visits Lambeau Field

Yesterday one of my students read aloud to me from a Flat Stanley story. I was immediately transported back to a time not so long ago when a Stanley came to visit me. I brought Stan to school with me, but Chuck really made Stan’s visit to Wisconsin; he took him to work on a long day at Lambeau Field. In the spirit of Super Bowl Weekend, here’s Flat Stanley’s stadium tour.

When Flat Stanley arrived in my mailbox from Irving, Texas, we knew one place we needed to go: Lambeau Field. Chuck folded Stanley into his wallet and headed off to work.

Stan’s first stop was the Lombardi statue at the entrance. He held onto Vince’s left shoe; that first step would be a doozy.


The best place to start any tour is the Lambeau Field Atrium, including the entrance to the field itself. Can you see the lines on the floor? They line up exactly with the yard lines on the field itself. “Impressive,” thought Stanley.


Stanley’s first stop was the Green Bay Packers Hall of Fame where he saw the collection of Lombardi trophies. He felt a lump in his throat as he viewed the most recent addition to the collection, the trophy from Super Bowl XLV.


Then Stanley considered his choices. Locker Room or Field? The locker room was locked, so on to the field it was.


“Wow,” thought Stanley. “This is hallowed ground, not frozen tundra.”


Flat Stanley had the good fortune (and the connections) to sit on the sound board during the evening show of Larry McCarren’s Locker Room. The studio audience overflowed the place for this guest: Aaron Rodgers himself.

Stan was exhausted after his Green Bay adventures, so he climbed back into his envelope in Chuck’s wallet and went to sleep. After all, tomorrow would be another day. There were places to go, people to see, and adventures galore awaiting his flat little self.

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Homecomings – an encore presentation

My “children” are now 25 and 20. This post remembers a weekend evening a few years ago. Was it only a few years? Oh, my.

The thing about kids is that they grow up.

Homecoming Week at Amigo’s high school just ended. A chronological recounting won’t do; the impression of the week is more of a scattered collection of events.
The bonfire had a perfect night — that is, the rain date had perfect weather.
Spirit Days! Must discuss spirit days.
On “Dress Like a Pirate Day”, Amigo wore a bandanna on his head and someone gave him an eye patch to go with it. Substitute his white cane for a peg leg, and there’s one cool pirate.
Decades day? He chose the 80s and wore a shirt featuring the Packer quarterback who preceded Brett Favre. Okay, trivia buffs, can you name the quarterback?
At the football game, Amigo sat with us, but he was never alone. Kids kept walking past and saying hi and calling him by name. The homecoming king himself, the most popular boy in the entire school, sat and watched the game and talked with Amigo for quite a while. Husband joined us after work, bought supper from the concession stand and bought a sweatshirt from the booster club as the sun went down and the temperature dropped.
But the most glaring sign of growing up was the dance. I picked him up at midnight, tired, hoarse, thirsty, grinning from ear to ear. We came home and found La Petite had caught a ride home from college with her boyfriend to spend a night here with us and with her bunnies.
And that’s where it ended: my two teenagers, one 19, one 14, sharing homecoming stories on the couch after midnight. The high school freshman and the college sophomore chatted and laughed and compared notes. I don’t know how long they stayed up talking about pep rallies, football games, dances, and spirit weeks. I’m sure they didn’t even notice my absence when I went up to bed.

I guess the great thing about kids is that they grow up.

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But…but… it SHOULD!

(an encore post from the very humble beginnings of Compost Happens – enjoy!)

Comparing the “should” with the reality and the end result

When one major appliance breaks down, nothing else should.
Reality: After the dishwasher died and I was getting grumpy about washing dishes, the cordless phone and the coffeemaker both quit. Of course, we just bought a pack of 200 coffee filters yesterday.
End result: I’m reading the sale ads. And the new coffeemaker has to take the same kind of filters.
2012 Sequel; our refrigerator gave out earlier this week. Appliance repair people were closed for the holidays. We are facing a Big Box Appliance Store on Black Friday to replace it. Hold me. 

Every family member should empty his or her pockets before putting clothes in the washing machine.
Reality: Husband sent his jeans through the wash with the cell phone in one pocket.
End result: It’s still sitting on the kitchen counter (near the nonworking dishwasher) drying out. Thank goodness he didn’t put the phone through the dryer, too!

When taking a car in for service, the mechanics should look it over thoroughly.
Reality: 5000 miles ago we took the car in. The computer couldn’t muster a code to tell them what to do. Despite our detailed description of the symptoms, they gave us the stock reply: “We can’t just throw parts at it!” Incidentally, when we called the dealer in the next big town, their customer service rep gave us the same line (“We can’t just throw parts at it!”) without even looking at the car.
End result: 5000 miles and several dangerous moments later, the computer finally gives them a code that leads the service folks to a likely repair.

should be eating fresh tomatoes and other yummy veggies.
Reality: I planted the garden three weeks late, so everything will ripen later.
End result: I’ll be serving BLTs every day when school starts.

2012 sequel: I brought in piles and piles of unripe tomatoes just before the killing frost arrived. We’re still putting yellow pear and red cherry tomatoes on our salads. Summer 2012 was a good year for tomatoes at the O.K.Chorale.

When the university sends out an email bill, the online site for payment should work.
Reality: The site was down for approximately three weeks.
End result: When the site finally came up, it was excruciatingly slow while every family that paid online tried to pay at the same time.

When I upload a digital picture to the computer, I should be able to find it again easily.
Reality: Pictures always seem to get saved somewhere random instead of in the file I thought I used as a destination.
End result: I grumble and use bad words when I’m searching for the pictures I just took!

Saying “should” is like saying “assume”; neither jives with reality.
Thank you for listening to me rant; I feel better already.
Smile. (Or is that an evil grin?)

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Work email among creative sorts

Or — sometimes “Reply to All” gives you more than you ever really wanted to know.

From the Media Specialist’s assistant:
“We are missing a skeleton. His name is Mr. Thrifty. If you have seen him, let us know.”
The responses:
“Is he in a closet?”
“Maybe he’s boning up for a test.”

From the guidance counselor:
“Where’s my cardboard banana? It’s about 4 feet tall, heavy cardboard, and was on the ‘Eat a Healthy Breakfast’ bulletin board by the office.”
The responses:
“The skeleton ate it.”
“I know where it is, but I’m sworn to secrecy.”

From the art teacher:

“My desk chair disappeared on election day. It’s gray, on rollers, a little paint on it.”
The responses:
“Is it a Democratic party chair or Republican party chair?”
“Was that a committee chair?”
“Chairman or Chairwoman?”
“The skeleton has it – he’s sitting on your chair, in his closet, eating the banana.”

The final follow-up:
The skeleton turned up in a classroom for a human body unit in science.
The desk chair had been returned to the wrong classroom after the poll workers used it on election day.
The banana? It was hanging on the music room door, clad in a pink feather boa.

That was at a previous workplace. I still keep in touch with those people. In virtual schools, however, we find our own random ways to share knowledge and keep spirits up. 

Did the inventors of email imagine it would be used for entertainment such as this? Never mind.

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