Tag Archives: old age

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Stray thoughts….

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#1. We’re spending Thanksgiving Day with friends this year and along with my luscious crabmeat toasty appetizers and a cappuccino mousse trifle dessert, I was asked to bring… are you sitting down?

Green bean casserole. 🤢

While I’ve been known to make that abomination (for certain spouses who shall remain nameless) I can’t say I’m a fan. So I searched high and low for a recipe that would make it more palatable.

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I found one for the crock pot that sounded much better than the original. Fresh beans, fresh mushrooms, heavy cream, fresh garlic and thyme etc.

It was a bit of a pain to make and littered my kitchen with dirty dishes… but thankfully I did a dry run a few days ago before I served it to the group.

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Sadly, the trash can was the only appropriate place for it. Blech! How something so promising could taste so horrible is beyond me.

I shall now be making the original bowl of slop that everyone expects.

Clearly it can’t be improved.

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#2. I heard that Paul Rudd had been voted Sexiest Man Alive in People magazine. I can’t say I agree, but I won’t argue with this logic:

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#3. I believe I have officially reached the point of no return on the less than graceful decline into old age. I know this because the only way I can remember to add a song to my iPod is to take a picture of my car radio when it’s playing.

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And yes, I said iPod.

Told you I was old.

🤣

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I must be getting old.

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I don’t yell at children to get off my lawn, but I fear it’s just around the corner. Why do I think this? Because the other day when I was reading an article online I saw this…

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And my first reaction was disgust. I not only wanted to seat that little boy properly at the table…. but felt a serious need to slap the pleased, over indulgent smile off his mother’s face as well. Harsh, I know. But I was raised back in the Mesozoic era with something called manners. Please and thank you, no elbows on the table. If my mother had seen me with my knees on a chair, face down in a plate of food? She would have snatched me bald headed.

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Junior eating a funnel cake with no hands isn’t cute…. and trust me, it will not serve him well in the future. Neither will the belching or farting you find so amusing. No joke, we once had one of these grown up children at our dinner table. When he was finished eating, he took off his shoes and started cleaning his toenails.

Not cute. Not at all.

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Because sometimes bigger really is better.

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Since skunking my husband at Scrabble has become a weekly pastime… I decided to up our game.

Literally.

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Bigger tiles for the where the hell did I leave my reading glasses now? visually challenged due to encroaching decrepitude crowd.

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And a much bigger, fancier, wooden, swiveling board with raised ridges to keep the letters in place.

How much bigger?

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Well, the box said giant and that’s a pretty apt description.

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So far we’re loving it.

But I’m afraid it’s going to have to be a permanent decorative fixture… because if you think the board is big, you should see the friggin’ enormous box it came in.

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Sad backyard news.

26 Comments

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I knew it would probably happen, but it doesn’t make it any easier to take.

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Our little blue eyed Bambi is all alone now.

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We haven’t seen his mother, the old always pregnant doe, for weeks. She was nearly skeletal the last time she visited and I think her poor old body just had enough.

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I’m glad she taught the little guy this was a safe place for his daily nosh. I just hope he can hook up with the rest of the herd before the full brunt of winter sets in. There’s safety in numbers when you’re a little fella.

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