What Were They Thinking

I love going through old pictures.  Many times they lead me for a stroll down Memory Lane.

Sometimes I will run across a picture that puzzles me.  One in which you wonder what those people were thinking about when the picture was taken.

Like this one.

This one was taken in 1960, sometime around Christmas.  The little doo-dad on the coffee table was a decoration that Mom set out only at Christmas time.  The candles on the bottom were lit and the heat from them made the angels above move round and round.  Mom and Dad are in the living room of the house on the farm.  But what on earth could they have been thinking about to have such sober looks on their faces!

That's more like it.

On Happiness

One of the blogs that I read daily had a post recently about happiness and the fact that each of us is responsible for our own state of mind.  It stated that others can not make us happy.  We and we alone have the ability to choose whether to live in a state of happiness or in a state of misery.

Everyone has people in their lives who could drag us down if we allowed them to.  And each of us has circumstances, whether it be financial problems, work related aggravations, living situations or a myriad of other things in life, that could make us unhappy.  Even our long, cold, gray winters can bring us down.  But only if we let them.

The suggestion was made that we make a list of ten things that make us happy, and whenever we start to feel down in the dumps, take out that list and read it.  Focus on those things that make us truly happy.  Although I have never actually written down this list, this is a method I have used in the last few years to ward off depression.  Whenever I feel myself headed toward a pity party, I think about things more pleasant.  So here is my list of happy things.

1.  Fall leaves make me happy.  I love that time of year.  The hot, muggy summer days are gone, the air is crisp but not freezing cold, and the colors of the leaves are spectacular.  I love being outside this time of year just to drink it all in and enjoy.

2.  Flowers make me happy.  Flowers are one of God's best creations.  I love lilacs in the spring and daisies in the summer.  I love the rich colors of chrysanthemums in the fall.  My walks in the warm months of the year are made so much better when I see a yard full of flowers.  Or when I bring home cut flowers from the store.  They always brighten my day.

3.  Soft spring rains make me happy.  Spring rains wash away all of the dirty, dreary leftovers of winter.  They bring on the beautiful green leaves and grass of summer.  They make the world smell fresh and clean.

4.  Big brown puppy eyes make me happy.  Dogs are so trusting.  They love you unconditionally.  They want to be with you, even when you are grumpy.  And even if you just went out to get the mail, they act like they are so glad to see you when you come back.

5.  Phone calls make me happy.  I'm not talking about those calls where someone wants to sell me something.  Or those bad news calls that we have all received.  I am talking about the ones where my adult child says that they just called to see how I am.  Or those calls where a grandchild has something exciting to tell me about.  Or when a friend or relative calls just because they missed me.  Those are the phone calls that make me happy.

6.  The smell of homemade bread baking in the oven makes me happy.  It is not just the promise of the yummy goodness that will be ready to eat soon, but it is also the memories of the smell of bread fresh from the oven when I got home from school, as a child.

7.  Memories make me happy.  We all have good memories and bad memories.  The bad ones I have taken out, looked at them and then packed them away on a shelf in the back of the closet of my mind.  Those things that caused the bad memories cannot be changed, only learned from, and they are not worth dwelling on.  But the good memories live in my mind, right in front, where I can take them out, remember good times or people who are well loved or places that made me happy.  Good memories can bring sunshine to the darkest day.

8.  Making things makes me happy.  It doesn't matter if it is a quilt that I make, or a batch of chocolate chip cookies or a really good supper.  I get as much pleasure crocheting a granny square for my work-in-progress afghan as I do from making a loaf of bread.  I come by this honestly.  My mother was creative.  She sewed and made crafty things when I was young.  It is her influence that causes me to be happy while "doing something," no matter what it is.

9.  Woods and water make me happy.  There is a feeling of peacefulness that goes along with a walk in the woods or along a shore.  The smell of pine trees, the sounds of bird's songs and the gentle lapping of water on a shore make for a serene soul.  Whenever I have been unhappy or distressed, a walk in nature has most times brought me back to a place of happiness.

10.  I have saved the best for last.  My children and grandchildren make me the happiest of all.  Whether we are spending time together on a family picnic or on a holiday or special occasion, or whether I am just looking at their pictures that I keep in my bedroom, or talking with them on the phone, my family never ceases to make me happy.  They are my best thing and I love them will all of my heart.

I can guarantee that if I were unhappy, reading my list of happy things would turn the most dreary time into one of complete joy.  It works.

How to Survive Winter

I have finally figured it out.  I now know how to survive a Minnesota winter.  I stay indoors.

I don't recall disliking winter when I was a child.  I remember the fun of building snow forts.  And snowmen.  And making snow angels.  And ice skating.  And sledding.

Going sledding at my Grandma Matheny's house near Blackduck was exciting.  The cousins would take sleds and toboggans to the hill in the cow pasture across from the house.  This hill was full of rocks and tree stumps.  The person who was steering the sled had better be good at it, or we would hit a rock or stump and go flying off into the snow.

One year when I was about 8 or 9 years old, my Christmas present was a pair of ice skates.  Five blocks from our house in Willmar was an outdoor ice skating rink.  I spent many hours there skating.....pretending I was an Olympic skating star.  Truth be known, I never did get the hang of skating backwards or doing the fancy steps and jumps, but Oh, how I loved to skate.

When my family lived on the farm, sometimes in the winter my Dad and Uncle Ronnie would pack up us kids on a Sunday afternoon and head for the lake.  They would shovel off an area so we could ice skate.  Or they would drive the car around on the ice and snow, towing us on skis or sleds.  I'm pretty sure that the towing part would be frowned upon today, what with all the concern with safety issues.  But we sure had fun.  And afterward, there was always hot chocolate and cookies at either our house or at Ronnie and Em's.

I guess I really don't hate winter.  I love to sit in my rocking chair by the window with a cup of tea or coffee and watch the snow fall.  I love the way the snow makes everything look so beautiful.  But after years of clearing snow off of sidewalks with a shovel and years of slippy sliding on the ice, walking or driving, I much prefer to watch winter from the comfort of my living room.

Works for me.

The Great Canning Marathon

So, when I shopped for groceries I found ham and beef roast on sale.  Brought home a ham and two roasts.  Cut the meat from the ham bone and cubed it.  Cut both roasts into cubes and browned the cubes in the oven.  Stuffed the whole shebang into pint jars and canned them.

Canned meat isn't pretty.  Jars of canned peaches are pretty.  Jelly in jars is pretty.  Meat is not.  But it doesn't have to look pretty to go into a ham and scalloped potato dish or into a country beef stew or homemade vegetable beef soup, which is where these jars of meat will wind up.  I think I need to can more ham and beef the next time there is a sale.

I had a little ham left over.....not enough to fill a pint jar.  So into my pantry I went and dug out a bag of dry split peas and a couple jars of carrots.  Dumped them into a stock pot along with the broth that I had boiled the ham bone in, the leftover ham and the meat from the ham bone, threw in a handful of dried onion and a little pepper.  Tossed in a pint of celery that I had canned a while back, just for fun.  Brought the soup to a boil and then let it simmer on the back burner all day.  This is seriously good split pea soup.  Had a bowl for supper and canned the rest.

This soup separates during canning, but combines again when heated and stirred.

Then I decided to try something just for fun.  I had found a recipe for canning French Fries.  I already can potatoes.  I do this because I can get a pretty good price on a large bag of potatoes as opposed to the smaller bags.  Trouble is, I can't eat even a small bag before they go bad.  Canning them solves this problem and I can have canned potatoes boiled, mashed or fried.  Works like a charm.  I love French Fries.  So I decided to try this recipe.

I just peeled and cut them lengthwise into fries, packed them in wide mouth pint jars so they would be easier to take out of the jar, covered them with boiling water and ran them through my pressure canner.  I only had four empty wide mouth pint jars for the French Fries, so I filled enough small mouth jars with cubed potatoes to fill the canner.

Of course I had to give the fries a taste test, so the next day I opened a jar.  These only take a couple of inches of oil to fry, so I heated the oil, dumped the drained fries into the pot and let them brown.

I really can't tell the difference between these canned French Fries and those I have made with raw potatoes.  They are yummy.  I may have to can up a few more jars of these.

And with that, the great canning marathon came to an end.

It gives me a sense of accomplishment to see these jars of meat, soup and potatoes on the pantry shelves and knowing that if I get a hankering for beef stew and biscuits, I don't have to run to the grocery store for the ingredients.  Grab a few jars off the pantry shelves and before long, dinner is served.

Favorite Photo of Mom

I have no idea where or when this photo was taken or even who took it.  I only know that's my Mom sitting on that rock.  I know that she is too far away from the photographer to be able to know who it is just by looking at the photo.  But I found it in the photo album that she had put together when she was young.  You can see by the caption she wrote underneath that it is indeed her.

And I really love this photo of her.

(You can click on any photo and bring it up full size in another window.)

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.