Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: Drawing a Blank

My pictures are sorted.

My pictures are resized so I can upload them to the blog.

My letter blog writing program is open before me.

Margins are formatted.

I’ve added a header with page numbers and date.

No title yet.

I’m drawing a blank.

Usually, I’m inspired to pick a title by the pictures I’ve taken through the week but this week is a mishmash of this’s and that's. Nothing is jumping out at me.

Sigh.

I guess it was bound to happen.

Let’s start at the beginning.

I wanted to get a birthday box in the mail for my best old friend in West Virginia and I wanted it in the mail Monday. Any later in the week and it stands a chance of sitting in a post office somewhere over a weekend and that just would not bode well for the cookies, quick bread, and cake I’d planned to send.

Monday morning started with a conundrum, a puzzle and mystery, one of epic proportions with the potential of life-threatening implications.

“What can be all that serious‽” both an exclamation and question.

I lost my coffee cup! Not just any coffee cup but my favorite coffee cup!

Every night I take my bowl of popcorn, a last cup of coffee, and dog treats with me into the living room. Raini and Bondi run ahead of me. Bondi climbs the pet steps and stands on the top. Raini jumps right up into the Beast.

“What’s the Beast?” you wanna know.

The Beast is a big man recliner, one where my feet don’t touch the floor if I sit against the backrest and is big enough for me, two dogs, and a cat. Spitfire sometimes joins us and lays in my lap.

Once I set my coffee down, I climb in the Beast, reach down and release the footrest. That’s when Bondi completes her trip to the recliner. The girls get their nightly treat, I eat my popcorn while watching Judge Judy, Tales of Wells Fargo, or the news, whichever Mike has on the TV. I finish my popcorn, drink my last cup of coffee for the day and while away the rest of the night playing Mah-jongg, Just Jumble, or reading on my iPad.

Throughout the day I always have a cup of coffee at my elbow, a consequence of dry mouth. It’s a long time from the time I finish my last coffee until bedtime. Four or more hours. That’s too long for me to go without something! And that brings me to another addiction, mints. I have Starlight mints everywhere! In the pockets of every jacket and sweater I wear, in the car, in my purse, my church bag under my Bible, my class bag under my textbooks, my jeans pockets, you’ll find at least one on my desk and likely as not, they’ll be a couple on the dresser where I emptied out my pockets, and I keep a jar of mints beside the recliner.

An addiction.

A saving grace when I can’t otherwise have coffee.

In that period between last coffee and bed, I’ll unwrap a mint and drop the wrapper in my empty coffee cup. I can usually get by with one or two a night, sometimes I’ll have three or even four mints, but that’s on a rare night when the girls help eat my mints. I bite off a piece and give it to them. It surprises me that dogs like peppermint.

When it’s time for bed, Mike shuts off the TV, puts the remote away so nobody chews it up, gets up and turns off the security monitors while I put my recliner down, dumping puppies to the floor (if they don’t get down on their own), gather my phone, iPad, coffee cup, popcorn bowl, and head to the kitchen. I’ll usually dump the mint wrappers into the trash, set the cup and bowl on the counter, take the girls out, lock the doors, turn off the lights, and head for bed.

That’s the routine.

Does it always work that way?

No.

There’ve been more than one morning when I pull my hot water from the microwave and find a candy wrapper floating on top.

Reading is another addiction of mine. I love to spend an hour or four reading after we go to bed and it’s frustrating when the Kindle battery is low. More than once I’ve had to read with an umbilical cord tying me to the power supply. I have to be careful not to strangle myself when I change position. I’ve been trying to remember to plug it in during the day so I didn’t have this problem.

Monday morning, I got up, fed the cats, and went to put water in the microwave for coffee only to find my favorite coffee cup wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Did I forget and leave it by the chair, I wondered. It wouldn’t be the first time. I went to check.

It wasn’t there.

I went back out to the kitchen and checked the counter again. It still wasn’t there. I opened the microwave thinking I might’ve already put it in there and forgotten, but the microwave was empty. It wasn’t on the table, or my desk. Sometimes I take it in to the bathroom with me. It’s pretty sad when you can’t even shower without your coffee, don’cha think? It wasn’t on my bathroom sink. It wasn’t on the corner of the dresser where I sometimes leave it while I’m getting dressed — don’t say it!

Mike! I think. He’s messing with me.

I went back out to the living room. "Have you seen my coffee cup?”

Mike was in the recliner, a blanket pulled up to his chin.

“No.”

I checked the floor beside him, just in case he stashed it there, but it wasn’t there.

I stood in front of him, hands on hips, toe tapping. “What have you done with it?” I asked.

“Nothing. I don’t know where it is.”

He seemed sincere.

I went back and checked every single place a second, and in some cases, a third time. It hasn’t magically appeared anywhere.

I broke down and got my old favorite coffee cup from the hook where he lives.

On my morning love call to Miss Rosie, I told her about losing my cup. “It’s a good thing I have more than one cup in my house!”

“Did you ever find it?” you ask.

I did!

A couple of hours later I remembered that I’d gone into the bedroom first, to plug in the Kindle, before I took my stuff to the kitchen. I’d set it down on the headboard. That’s what I get for breaking routine.

“How is Miss Rosie?” you wanna know.

She's doing great.

I made bread for her on Saturday. My poor, poor bread. I started it too early Saturday morning. I wanted to have it done in time to take for her to have warm with her spaghetti Saturday night. That’s what she told me she was having for supper. The dough rose really fast and I wasn’t ready to bake it so I knocked it down for a second rising before I put it in the pans. Then I Googled it. It said you can let bread dough rise three, four, even up to six times, but there’s no real benefit in doing that. It doesn’t improve flavor or texture. As I read, it talked about over-proofing and under-proofing and bread collapsing and you needed to be careful because if the yeast eats up all its food your bread will be sour.

Scared me!

I didn’t want sour bread. I got back up and put the dough in tins. Then I thought if I didn’t cover it with a towel that it might rise more slowly and be ready closer to the time I wanted to bake it.

Around one o’clock, I see the top of the bread is getting some pretty big bubbles under the skin. I don’t mind if it’s airy, but I didn’t want it full of big air holes. It wasn’t quite to the top of the tins yet but I thought I’d better bake it anyway. They could have it for an afternoon snack.

When I pulled it out of the oven and dumped it out, I’ve got bread that’s only two and a half inches tall! I think it fell some.

I cut a slice and it wasn’t sour.

I had another reason to go visit the Kipps. I’ve been making corner bookmarkers again and the second generation is new and improved. I left the back piece longer so it’s easier to open and put on your page.

I made matching bookmarkers for the ladies in my Tuesday night class out of some beautiful paper that my cousin Lorraine had given me.

Then I found myself with an empty afternoon and decided to make more. I’m thinking I’ll leave some at the church for anyone who wants one (or two) but I wanted Miss Rosie to have dibs before I started passing them around.

With the bread out of the oven, I grabbed the bookmarkers and we jumped on the golfcart and went down to see the Kipps.

I apologized for the short loaf of bread.

“It’s still really yummy, even if it didn’t get tall enough for you,” Miss Rosie said after she ate a warm slice with melted butter.

She peeled her bandage back and showed me her nose.

“It looks a lot better,” I told her.

She goes tomorrow to get the stiches out.

On our way home we stopped by our mailbox. We’d gotten a couple inches of snow overnight.

Stunted bread wasn’t my only faux pas this week.

“What did you do now?” you wanna know.

Monday morning I made sugar cookies for my West Virginia box. I asked my beautiful Trish if she liked crunchy or soft sugar cookies.

“Either one,” she said.

Momma liked the crisp ones with her coffee but Pop liked the soft drop cookies. I got out the cookbook my beloved Aunt Marie had given me and went looking for the recipe.

You’re going to think I’m an idiot.

Right there, in the cookbook, was a cookie-stained page with a starred sugar cookie recipe.

“That must be the one,” you say.

I know, right!

But I’m wondering if this was the one Pop liked or if I’d made it at some other time. I flipped the page and there was another recipe that only had five ingredients and used butter instead of shortening.

Simpler is better, right?

Butter is better, right too?

These are NOT the cookies I was looking for!

Both the Kipps and Trish said they were good. I guess I’m the only one disappointed.

Speaking of Trish, someone else fell in love with her stained-glass rubber duck!

“I’m not crazy about the Roman nose?” my handsome brother David said.

“I think he’s such a handsome duck,” Trish says. “I’m going to name him Marc Anthony.”

“Can you make me one?” beautiful Jody asked. “I love his Roman nose but since I’m giving him to my grandson, we’d better make it more conventional.”

So, I made another yellow duck this week.

I’ve got one more cooking story to tell you.

Have you ever made anything with canned tomatoes only to find a bad piece of tomato when you’re stirring the pot or as you’re eating it?

I have. Many times. In fact, I now filter diced tomatoes through my fingers as I pour them into the pot.

I was making unstuffed cabbage soup this week, filtering the tomatoes as I went and was rewarded with a bad piece. It wasn’t very big and if you’d’ve eaten it, you’d probably not even know it. But I picked it out, held it with a pinky and ring finger while I continued to dump the can. Finished, I was setting the can down, getting ready to drop the bad piece into the empty can, and accidently dropped it back in the pot.

Aye-yi-yi!

I stirred the tomatoes and chicken stock around looking for it but couldn’t find it. I knew it was in there so I couldn’t just leave it! I started dipping the tomatoes out, looking for it as I put them back in the can, making a mess across my stove — I don’t care! I can clean it up and I didn’t want the rotten tomato in there!

I’d gotten almost all of the tomatoes out of the pot before I found it again.

Hardly seems like it was worth all the trouble and mess, does it?

In the second can I found another, bigger one. And that’s why I do it.

Monday, after the cookies cooled, I packed it with all the things Raini and I’d made for her.

“What did Raini make?” you ask.

Mostly, a mess. I pick up the stuffing she pulls from the stuffed animals and save it until I get a full bag, then I use it to pad the goodies I send Trish. She in turn uses it to stuff some of the beautiful things she makes. Maybe I can get her to send us a picture sometime of what she uses the stuffing for.

The box was no sooner in the mail when Raini started working on another bag.

Good.

When I try that other sugar cookie recipe I’ll have packing material.

Silver lining here folks.

Speaking of the dogs...

Their treats are in a lower, open cabinet. They could probably tear the package open if they really wanted to and I’ve often wondered why they don’t. They see where I put it.

The other night, after they had their treats, both dogs left the recliner. They do that sometimes and I didn’t think anything of it. Suddenly, I hear Raini crunching on something in the dining room. I get up, turn on the light, and see both she and Bondi have helped themselves to another chewy. I wondered if they finally decided to chew open a package. I turned on the kitchen light and it looks like I’m at fault. I didn’t have the bag zippered tight. I’ve only ever seen Bondi snoop around in that cabinet so I’m guessing she knocked it over and the chews spilled out.

>>>*<<<

And now we’ll get to the this’s and that’s part where it’s little stories with pictures.

Do you use LED bulbs?

We do, and maybe that’s the only kind you can buy anymore. They’re supposed to last years but they don’t.

I stumbled on a You Tube video that shows you how to fix an LED bulb! That’s right! Fix it! The top part is plastic so just pry it off. Find the one that’s burned out. Scrape off all the stuff, cover it with a tiny little square of foil and a little piece of tape.

It works!

Snap or glue the globe back on and get more use out of a bulb you thought you had to throw away.

Now I’m going to try to fix those expensive lights in my kitchen fixture.

>>>*<<<

I saw a piece of heavy equipment pulled up into our back driveway. Mike went to check it out. Turns out it was Asplundh, the tree service contracted by our electric company to cut trees. They cut at least one tree on our property.

Mike thought the machine was cool so he came back to get me. By the time I got out there to take pictures they were moving on down the road.

Mike talked with the guy. They have 180,000 trees to cut and they’re all marked on his iPad.

“How many have you cut so far?” Mike asked.

“A hundred,” he answered.

They didn’t go far. Just to the other end of our property where they parked. There wasn’t anyone in it.

Maybe they were scoping out where they needed to go next and what trees they’re cutting. They did cut a few trees on that end of our property, then they moved on down past the Kipps and cut a few more.

>>>*<<<

Our personal income taxes are done for the year 2022. We took a trip over to pick them up. On the way we stopped for lunch at McDonalds. When I use the app I can buy one Quarter Pounder and get one free. Cheap eating.

I was surprised when I picked my burger up and found a perfect heart on the bottom.

“Do you have one on yours?” I asked Mike, but he didn’t.

I took two barn pictures.

A Sheetz truck picture. I find the myriad works of art interesting.

And I saw three hawks! Not great or even good pictures but I’m always excited to see these handsome raptors.

>>>*<<<

Mike came back from checking the mail.

“Let’s go for a ride,” he said.

“No.” I said. I know, right! I didn’t even ask where or why, just, “No.” I tend to be obsessive. When I’m doing something, I like to finish it. I don’t like interruptions. But I guess after 28 years together, he knows me.

“It’s nice out. Let’s go up and see the well,” he persisted.

That didn’t tempt me away from what I was doing. “Uh-uh. I don’t wanna go.”

“Flowers are blooming down by the road.”

He’s got me now. I dropped what I was doing, grabbed my coat and camera. “The coltsfoot?” Besides the crocus blooming in neighbor Sally's' flowerbeds, coltsfoot is one of the early bloomers. The leaves won’t come on until the flowers are gone.

Coltsfoot, like many plants, has been used in folk medicine. A tea made from the leaves has been used to treat whooping cough, bronchitis, asthma, and all kinds of upper respiratory tract infections including a cough, sore throat, and hoarseness.

A paste made from the leaves removes spots and blemishes and makes the skin supple and soft. You can also use it on the wounds and cuts to help them heal faster. Apply it on the joints – the elbows and the knees both in the morning and evening. It will help old age diseases like arthritis, rheumatism, and gout.

Having said all of that, I have to tell you that overuse of coltsfoot can cause liver damage and is listed in the Poisonous Plant Database of the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and is even prohibited in certain countries.

After I took a few pictures of the coltsfoot we headed for the gas well.