Random Thoughts at the Grocery Store

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Years ago, when I successfully canned my first batches of jams, I was warned. “Jam is the gateway drug for canning. You’ll never be able to stop.”

It’s true. My home-canned inventory grows every year. Part of the joy of canning is getting downstairs to bring up a jar of cherry-rhubarb jam or home-grown salsa instead of writing it on the list and shopping for it. Another pleasure in the canning world is walking down the grocery store aisle and thinking, “I don’t need to buy that. I make my own.”

Let’s see. I had that thought as I walked past…

  • jams and jellies
  • pickles
  • salsa (but we still buy the chips)
  • applesauce (and pear sauce! yum!)
  • tomato sauces
  • herbs (I don’t can them, but I grow and dry them)
  • soup stocks (not canned, but homemade and frozen)
  • frozen vegetables (I grow them or buy them at the farmers’ market, then freeze them)
  • “fresh” strawberries and other berries (again, I freeze them in season)

Meanwhile, I kept distracting myself from the actual shopping trip by thinking about spring and summer. Organic more expensive? I’ll grow it in the backyard. No problem. Chuck getting picky about breads? I’ll make some in the bread machine. He’ll eat it. What kind of ice cream should I make? Well, I still have a few strawberries in the freezer and a small amount of cherry concentrate. This could be delicious.

On further review, the rhubarb is already coming up, and I have quite a bit in the freezer. I must find a way to barter this rhubarb for something I don’t have. Ideas, readers? What do you do with too much rhubarb? And furthermore, was jam the gateway drug for you?

 

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Random Thoughts on a Rainy Sunday Afternoon

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Questions. I have questions.

Where’s the NFL? If I’m stuck inside on a Sunday afternoon, I want football.

NASCAR! Amigo likes NASCAR. The announcers just said, “This isn’t Richmond, this is I-95!” Oh, there are times the track looks a lot like I-94 around Milwaukee.

Why does the remote control continually fall into the couch behind Amigo? No, don’t answer that.

Trent, the last American Idol, really rocked the National Anthem. He wowed the crowd – and he wowed us. That’s a statement, not a question.

Which Mountain Dew is better: Baja Blast or Pitch Black? And truly, who cares?

How are the Milwaukee Brewers doing this afternoon? Is the roof open?

How many school days are left until summer?

Can I start a few more seeds indoors? Maybe peas or beans?

Why are so few of the marigold seeds coming up?

Should I consider raising monarch butterflies?

Most of these questions have no answers. Some have answers that don’t really matter. With that in mind, I think I’ll hit “Post” and watch the race with Amigo. Boogity Boogity Boogity!

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Signs of Spring – more in a series

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Similar to the mini mums and tulips, each spring the daffodils come up next to the old roses. I plan to dig up the daffodils after they’re done blooming. We have other plans for that area, including moving the roses. The stones will join their friends in the rock garden on the other side of the house.

See the markers? I'll find the bulbs this time, I will.

See the markers? I’ll find the bulbs this time, I will.

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Signs of Spring – the series continues

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Not everything is pretty in the springtime. A typical sign of spring in the O.K. Chorale is this: the mini mums I didn’t cut back last fall, and the tulips poking their little greens through the mess.

Every year. Every stinkin' year.

Every year. Every stinkin’ year.

If (when) I cut off the dead pieces, you’ll be able to see the new growth of the mini mums, too.

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Signs of Spring – the series

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It seems like every year I post signs of spring and then – bam! – we get more winter. This time, my signs of spring will be one post at a time.

The barrels are back!

The barrels are back!

It’s a true sign of spring: the rain barrels are set up! Last year – well, last year was difficult. I’m glad to see one of my favorite garden tools – or should I say supplier? this is my main water source – is up and running.

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Influenza – I spoke too soon.

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It’s my turn. I cared for the boys, washed my hands frequently, stayed out of range of their coughing as much as I could — and it wasn’t enough. I’m on my second day home today. Chuck is back at work, but Amigo is still suffering.

In the category of Simple Pleasures, also known as For What it’s Worth, there are some reasons to feel (almost) good these days.

We have a new couch – with dual recliners on the ends. With this set-up, two of us can lean back and relax with the tissue box between us. No one fights over the couch because we can both stretch out.

Spring weather might return late in the week. Right now, none of us want to step outside into the cold air for fear of setting off a coughing fit.

I did the shopping last weekend, and I stocked up on chicken noodle soup. I’ve also thrown together crock pot meals to tempt our meager appetites while not spending precious energy in the kitchen.

Positives aside, I need a nap. After that, I need chicken soup.

 

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Voter ID – The True Purpose Revealed

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Glen Grothman (Republican in Wisconsin’s State Senate) said it out loud and into a microphone. When asked how he thought a Republican could win Wisconsin in the general election when such an event hasn’t happened since 1984, he responded, “…now we have photo ID, and I think photo ID is going to make a little bit of a difference.”

Voters now need to present a photo ID at the polls every time they vote. Drivers’ licenses, passports, military IDs – easy, right?

Wrong.

Let’s take Amigo for example. He’s blind; he doesn’t drive. He has a state photo ID because he had access to the documentation he needed and he had someone to drive him to the DMV to get it. When he lost his wallet at a school reunion, he was able to replace that ID at the DMV. It was a bother, but he had a ride (me) and someone to fill out the form for him (also me).

Not everyone has the advantages that Amigo does. He also votes in his home city, so the address on his ID is current. Take college students, for example. The liberal arts university in my fair city’s downtown had long, long lines last week. Long, long lines that meant waits of more than an hour. One reason: These college students moved annually, so their campus addresses changed. Another reason: the poll workers were stymied by the college IDs, identification that didn’t have addresses or dates on them.

In general, high voter turnout often favors Democrats. When the Republicans controlling our state government introduced and passed the law requiring photo ID at the polls, we progressives complained, and loudly. We knew, just KNEW that the goal was to make voting more difficult. We could tell this law wasn’t intended to combat fraud, but intended to keep more voters away from the polls. The right wing denied it over and over and over. And then Grothman went oops. He admitted publicly that he thought Voter ID would give the GOP an advantage over the progressives and Democrats so popular in our grand old state.

What’s next? Registration tests? Gerrymandered districts? Oh, wait, that’s already happening. More important, readers: what do we do next?

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The Dreaded Influenza A

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Most of my family members faithfully get the flu vaccine each year. Chuck doesn’t. For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be as vulnerable to the annual flu virus. This year, flu season is different.

Flu season this year came later than usual. Here it is April – April! – not November, not January, and both Chuck and Amigo are down with diagnoses of Influenza A. Chuck ended up in the emergency room a few days ago, struggling to breathe. After a chest x-ray, a nebulizer breathing treatment, and a flu test, the official word was Influenza A. Flu. The upper respiratory virus from hell.

Amigo got his a few days later. We were a little bummed; he’d been ill with some sort of virus for about two weeks, and I thought maybe that was his flu. He gets the shot every year, and that might have mitigated the severity somewhat. No such luck; he is currently curled up on the couch with pillows and blankets and a humidifier on high. Well, the humidifier is on the floor nearby. He’s not curled up with it. Yet.

Chuck most likely came in contact with the virus Tuesday night. His symptoms started in the wee hours of Wednesday morning. Tuesday night he was out late covering Ted Cruz’ primary election event in Milwaukee. Governor Walker was there, too. Can I blame Cruz and Walker for my dear hubby getting sick? Maybe not, but I do like to blame the governor for anything and everything possible.

Meanwhile, he brought home the bug and got quite sick, too. I’ve been taking care of him the best I can, treating the symptoms and cooking up comfort foods.

Amigo’s symptoms turned up overnight Friday. His diagnosis was confirmed over the phone with the nurse on call. Once again, we’re treating the symptoms. Chuck was too late for the famous Tamiflu. Amigo couldn’t get an appointment within the magic first 24 hours, and the nurse told me many doctors are hesitating to prescribe it these days. There is some doubt as to its true effectiveness.

Meanwhile, I’m still healthy and knocking on wood and washing my hands and trying not to breathe near either of my guys. If I make it past this week…well, let’s not chance anything.

Readers, I’m feeding the sick ones (and myself) chicken soup and other sources of fluid and nutrition. Advice is welcome – for treating their symptoms and keeping myself flu-free. Add your prescriptions for comfort in the comments.

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The Spark Plug Award

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He said it felt like the Oscars. He was surprised. No, he was blown away when his name was called. He had no idea he was getting an award.

Despite his shock and awe, Amigo managed to give quite a nice acceptance speech. He thanked his parents for driving him to practice. He gave credit to his high school music teacher for getting him off to a good start singing. He mentioned that he had grown up surrounded by music and he enjoyed singing barbershop style.

His award is called the Spark Plug. The Spark Plug award goes to someone whose enthusiasm and energy bring a spark to the group. Amigo brings a spark with his voice, of course (he’s good! very good!), and he brings a spark with his attitude, too. He brings his voice, his musicianship, and his sense of humor to each rehearsal and performance.

I was such a mom. I had a major lump in my throat watching my boy, my young man, getting recognized and rewarded for being who he is – outgoing, friendly, talented, fun.

Anyway, readers, after the dinner was cleared and the awards were given, there was karaoke. Karaoke, at a barbershop party? These guys love to sing! I could have listened all night. But Amigo and Chuck were ready to lug the trophy home, so I enjoyed one more song (a local restaurant owner singing Billy Joel’s “For the Longest Time”) and joined them to head home.

The Spark Plug Award has a place of honor on our fireplace mantel. It’ll stay there for a while – until next year, when Amigo gets to make a short speech and hand it off to the next harmonizer who energizes the group.

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