I Have Chihuahuas

 Actually, I have Yorkies.  Jessie Jane and Lily.  Eleven and nine pounds worth of  Yorkies, respectively.

Yorkies coats require constant brushing.  Their hair grows long and mats up easily.  After three years of working at a job where I bathed and brushed dogs of every shape and size and breed, this activity is not high on my list of fun things to do.  Truth be told, I tend to procrastinate when it comes to brushing my dogs.  And they hide in their kennels when they see the doggie brush in my hand.

This is what they looked like a few of days ago.

I hang my head in shame.

So I took them to Starla on Wednesday for their grooming appointment.

I now have Chihuahuas.

It's the Police

Yesterday morning my phone rang.  It was someone downstairs using the intercom to get into my building.  He said he was the police.

Now why is it that when you hear it is the police at your door, your heart stops momentarily and you get a sinking feeling in your stomach.  You wonder what it was that you did wrong.  Must be some leftover guilt from being raised by parents who believed that anything that wasn't church related was wrong.  After all, I haven't robbed any banks lately.  I don't own a car, so there are no outstanding traffic tickets.  I'm too old and too tired to get myself into too much trouble these days.  So why is a policeman calling me wanting to get into my building?

As I live alone, I make it a practice not to buzz anyone in that I don't know.  So I went downstairs and after checking his identification, I let the officer in.  Turns out, he was a very nice young man who just wanted to know if I had a phone number for my landlord.  This officer's job is to work with apartment building owners in my area, for the purpose of reducing drug traffic and crime.

I am fortunate to live in a building where this isn't a problem as far as tenants go.  It wasn't always so.  When Mike and I first moved here 15 years ago, we had a neighbor down the hall from us who was a drug dealer.  There were a parade of his customers knocking on his door day and night.  Later on there was, how shall I put this, a lady of ill repute living here, with another parade of men knocking on her door.  There was an assortment of people who couldn't seem to live together without fighting, and the police were called regularly to referee.  We continued to live here only because the rent was so reasonable and we were allowed to have our pets.

So my landlord first fired the guy who managed the building as this man was only concerned with collecting rent and turned a blind eye to everything else.  Then my landlord set about to clean out the building.  He remodeled the apartments and took care to check references when renting an apartment.  He installed a security system.  I now have good neighbors and no longer worry about who is wandering the halls.

It is nice to know that the local law enforcement is working to help landlords in my area when it comes to crime.  Makes me feel a little more safe and secure.  I gave the nice young man a couple of ginger cookies that were cooling on the kitchen table.  And thanked him for watching out for the residents of this area.

So the next time a policeman knocks on my door, I may not jump to the conclusion that it is a bad thing.

Another Christmas Has Come and Gone

And a lovely Christmas it was.

We met at Jill and Joe's house as we have in the past.  This seems to be becoming a tradition and I like it.  The weather co-operated this year and everybody was able to be there.  For me, that is the best part about Christmas......having my entire family with me.

We ate and we talked and we played.

Someone wanted to take pictures of me with my children and grandchildren.  I usually would rather be behind the camera than in front of it, but I do love these pictures.  I wondered, in looking at them later, if my children had gotten taller in the last few years, or if I was shrinking.  Probably the latter.

And this is the reality of trying to take a family picture that includes Jacob!

It was indeed a Merry Christmas.

Duh!

So.....last week I grabbed my camera to take some pictures.  I love taking pictures.  I love my camera.

I pressed the button that turns the camera on.  Nothing happened.  So I tried again.  And again.  Nothing.

Gotta be the batteries.  I took out the old ones and put in new.  Pressed the button.  Nothing.  This is not good.

Grabbed my jacket and stocking hat and off I go to the local convenience store.  Bought batteries.  Trudged home through the snow.  Put the batteries into the camera.  Pressed that little button again.  Nothing.

Well, I thought, perhaps the batteries from the convenience store aren't any good.  They don't do much of a business.  Maybe the batteries are old and don't work.

So yesterday when I was out and about, I picked up more batteries at the grocery store.  Came home and put the new batteries into the camera.  Pressed the little button.  Nothing.

Now, I am getting worried.  Did I mention that I really love my camera?

Dug around and found the instruction book.  When all else fails, read the instructions.

Before thumbing through the instruction book, I casually looked at the top of my camera.  There is a little dial with all of the settings that I can use with my camera.  The little lever that I move for various functions was sitting between Automatic and the next function.  Flipped the little lever to Automatic.  Pushed the little button that turns the camera on.  Woo Hoo!  My camera works.

I don't expect that I will run out of batteries any time soon.

Duh!

A Do Nothing Day

Today I did absolutely nothing that even resembled work.

I stayed in my jammies.

I played on my computer.

I took a nap.

I read a book.

I played with the dogs.

It was absolutely wonderful.

Chicken and Dumplings

One of the things I like to do in the morning is read various blogs that I like to follow.  Some of these have a theme day.....in this case, Way Back Wednesday.....where they blog about early memories.  Yesterday, Lane of "That Man Quilts?"  talked about remembering his Grandmother's chicken and dumplings. As sometimes happens, these blog posts send me on my own stroll along memory lane.

My Mom could cook.  Which isn't surprising, because her mother was a fantastic cook.  But when Mom became too crippled with arthritis to work in the kitchen any more, Dad took over the cooking duties.  And he was Mom's equal when it came to putting together a good, tasty meal.  I once asked him where he learned to cook.  He told me that he had been, when he was young, working in a logging camp in northern Minnesota.  He said that he had hurt one of his arms and couldn't do the hard, physical work required when working in the woods, so rather than go home and lose the income that was much needed in his family, he started cooking for the logging crew.  He said that if someone didn't know how to cook, they would learn really fast in that situation.  A gang of hungry loggers is not a pretty sight.

Next to his apple pie, the dish that I loved the most was Dad's chicken and dumplings.  I have been known to show up on Dad's doorstep, chicken in hand, begging him to make chicken and dumplings for me.  Dad didn't make dumplings from scratch.  I tried a couple of times to make dumplings from scratch, but they always turned out hard like white hockey pucks.  Dad used Bisquick to make his dumplings.  They were always light and fluffy and wonderful.  Dad's chicken and dumplings were my all time best comfort food.

So last night, after having chicken and dumplings on my mind all day, I decided to make some.  I didn't have any chicken in my freezer, so I headed to my pantry.  I opened a quart jar of turkey broth and added a pint of canned chicken and a half pint jar of canned celery, along with dried onion and seasonings.  While this heated on the stove, I made the dumpling dough from my homemade biscuit mix that I keep on hand.  It is a good substitute for Bisquick.  This was dropped by spoonfuls into the chicken mixture and cooked until the dumplings were done.  I decided to go whole hog and add a vegetable, so I melted a little butter in a pan, added a bit of brown sugar and a pint of home canned carrots.  A meal fit for a king.

I would have taken a picture of this lovely plate of comfort food, but it just didn't last long enough.

Yesterday Was Thanksgiving

And I have so much to be thankful for.

First and foremost, I am thankful for grown children who, along with their spouses and significant others, are willing to take the time and trouble to spend this holiday with me.  It was such a nice day.  Good food and good conversation.  Throw into the mix the grandchildren, and they day couldn't have been any better.  These are the same grown children who are always there for me.  Last week I couldn't get to the store and one of them picked up what I needed and delivered it to me.  I needed a ride to David's for Thanksgiving, and immediately there was an answer to my email, telling me that she would pick me up.  Another calls me to tell me about his children's good school report cards and sends me pictures sharing what they have been doing.  Still another shows up every two weeks to take me shopping and hauls heavy bags of groceries up the stairs for me, until his knuckles are dragging on the ground from the weight of them.  And they do things like this for me often.  I wonder if they know how much this means to me, how much this eases my mind and how grateful I am that I have adult children who care enough to be there for me.  Makes my life so much easier and much better than it would be without them.

I am thankful that I am able to live alone in my own home.  I was thinking about my mother and how when she was my age, she had already been living in a nursing home for a number of years due to her health.  Now at my age, there are occasionally times when my body lets me down and doesn't function the way I would like it to.  But this has never been serious enough to even consider other living arrangements.  I can still do what I need to do for myself on a daily basis.  Sometimes it just takes a little longer.  But that is OK.  I am in no big rush.

I am thankful for the little apartment that I call home.  Now some would question being thankful for a tiny apartment in the middle of a city, especially when I have been known to whine about wishing I could live in the country.  But when the truth is known, I am very thankful that I don't need to mow a lawn in the summer or shovel snow in the winter.  I have a landlord who lets me paint the walls any color I want to as opposed to the standard apartment white.  He thinks my dogs are cute.  He fixes things.  Right away.  When I was unemployed for a time, he worked with me on the rent rather than having me put out on the street as many others would have done.  He is a prince among landlords.  My apartment is cool in the summer and warm in the winter.  It is home.  I like it.

I am thankful that I still pretty much have my mental capacities intact.  Alzheimer's disease has been known to occur in my family history.  I don't waste time worrying that I will be afflicted with this disease, but it is something to watch for.  My own little gauge of memory loss is passwords.  I have a number of things on my computer that require passwords.  I still remember all of them.  When the time comes when I don't, then I will think about worrying.  But not until then.  Oh, I have the memory loss that is typical of those of my vintage.  I will put something away for safekeeping and then have to hunt for it later.  I make lists of things I need to remember, like what I need to buy at the grocery store.  I write appointments and birthdays on my calendar so I won't forget them.  But I really do remember most things.  At least those things that are best remembered.

There are so many other things that I am thankful for.  I am thankful that my mother taught me to cook and bake bread and sew, for these things give me pleasure.  I am thankful that my dad had the patience to teach me how to fix things and use tools.  This came in handy not too long ago when I tore apart my sewing machine, put it back together, and it worked again.  I am thankful for a loving extended family.  Although we don't get to see one another often, just to know that they are there and that they love me as I do them, is enough.  I wonder if my brother knows how much it means to me when he says, "I love you, Sister."  And I am thankful for the ability, whether learned or inherited, to see the beauty around me even in a city, to be able to enjoy a simple life without the stress and complications that so many live with, and to be in general, a happy and contented person.

For these things, and so much more, I am truly thankful.