Month: March 2016

Rhymes of the Times by Judy E. Martin, a Review

I just read Judy Martin’s (Edwina’s Episodes) delightful poetry book.  It really gave me a lift.  Felt like I was shopping for the perfect birthday card for a dear friend.  Judy’s rhymes are a treasure. Chris, the Storyreading Ape’s cover is outstanding. Please check it out.

Judy

Judy

Adventures with Lye

Reblogged from Vanbytheriver.

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It started with handmade soaps.

I received amazing samples from my friend, Linda.  https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/

Just out of curiosity, I looked for information about how they are made. I found a video that showed the process that turns the very basic ingredients into soap.

MakingSoap- Vintage Photo. (Not Linda)

It is called Saponification, a new word to me.

And there it was. The key ingredient…lye.

Oh, snap.

I have a scary history with lye.

Flashback to my first and only industrial accident.

It was my first week on a new job with IBM. I addressed it before in “The Madeline Intervention”.

Being that traditional morning person, I always arrived early.

On this particular day, I was also the first to use the ladies’ room.

This was the late 1970’s, and IBM was noted for the classic blue suit as standard attire. I had the equivalent in a suit dress, and wore it proudly with heels and…

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Corwin and the Goat Pills

goat poopI think I’ve mentioned my cousin Corwin was interesting. He was still hauling his bottle around when he started school. His teacher made him leave it at home, so first thing after getting off the bus, he’d get his bottle out of the cabinet, fill it up, and enjoy it along with his after school snack. A hearty eater, he’d grab up a handful of Gravytrain Chunks out of the dog’s bowl as he headed out to play football with his big brothers. As a crawling baby, Corwin had started shoving the puppy out of his bowl and just kind of got hooked on Gravytrain. It added a interest to the game to see Corwin playing football with his baby bottle sticking out of his back pocket. One of his brothers or cousins invariably snatched his bottle and ran, passing it on to whichever kid was new to the game. The chase was on. Corwin carried a grudge to the bitter end and picked up a stick or rock and bash the bottle thief’s head in long after the game of “Keepaway” concluded. His older brothers felt this bit of info was on a “need to know” basis, so new kids had to find out the hard way.

When he was about five or six, Corwin decided it was funny to pee the space heater. He’d fall all over himself to beat his mama in the front door, drop his pants, and spray the open flame with a stinking deluge that spattered, steamed, and spewed up the whole house. As he sprayed from side to side, kids would be scattering to avoid the stream. Should he have any ammo left, bystanders got it. His mother made a token protest, followed by, “I don’t know what makes that boy act like that.” Daddy told my aunt he’d hooked an electric shock to the heater, so Corwin would be electrocuted. She believed Daddy, so made Corwin give it up. I know it wasn’t true, but it would have been a fine idea.

Corwin was horrible. We all hated him. To make a long story short, Corwin was so darned mean, nobody would have stuck up for him. About that time, Daddy brought in some goats. At any rate, when Corwin saw goat pills littering the yard, he thought, they were chocolate M&Ms and gobbled quite a few before he noticed the taste was off. My brother and I made sure he had all he wanted. Seemed like justice.

Mother?

We never stop wanting our mothers. That is probably our first and last longing. When I cared for patients in times of pain and need, they often called out for their mother’s comfort. We want out mothers when we are giving birth, traumatized by pain or events, and at the moment of death. Many times I have held the hand of elderly patients whose mothers had to have been long dead and had the patient call me “Mother.” I never corrected them. Who am I to say it wasn’t their mother they saw as they moved on.

Smorgasbord Open House – Paranormal Romantic Suspense author Lyn Horner

Great interview on Smorgasbord with author Lyn Horner.

Letters

Reblogged from Vanbytheriver. I do hope for more!

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It might be a dying art, but there is something so special about the handwritten letter.

I have saved so many over the years; some from friends, most from family.

Rotari_YoungGirlWritingALoveLetter Painting. Pietro Rotari. 1755

None were more special than those from my Aunt Mary.

She was 6 years younger than my mother, her only sister. She was more devoted to the written word than anyone I knew.

She wrote constantly. She read everything.

It was a passion that started very young.

She was stricken with polio as a toddler, spent most of her childhood in a Shriner’s Hospital in Philadelphia, never attended a formal school.

Bright, curious, determined, with a few tutors, she was mostly self-taught.

Books opened doors to a rich, informed life.

Conversant in popular culture, a devoted fan of cinema, TV, modern and classic literature; she was also politically aware, passionately opinionated.

She was also a foodie, wine enthusiast, gourmet cook. Engaged a few times, but…

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More Goat Tales

goat-balanced-fence-636192Should goats not choose to lounge about with their bony heads in the fence, they walked through fences like ghosts through walls. Our house was enclosed by a wire fence which was inside the long drive leading up to the house. The pasture presented a third line of fence between the goats and the house. Even the blind goat ran up the diagonal corner brace posts and hopped the fences without even thinking, attaining total access to the whole place. Goats are perpetually in love. None of this fencing got between goats and their aim in life, copulating before as many onlookers as possible: ministers, prissy ladies, and small children, in that order. The tiniest of window ledges presented no problem should the company be saintly enough. Goats crashed my six-year-sister’s birthday party, indulging in a lurid love fest on the lawn, giving the kiddies an eye full till we got it broken up. One morning as the school bus driver impatiently honked for us, a huge Billy Goat chased his lady friend onto the hood of the school bus, consummating their relationship then and there, to the joy of the kids on the bus. Thank goodness, that indiscretion was enough to finally put an end to the goat herd.

Homemade Soap

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My new hobby of soap-making is getting out of hand, so I am offering them for purchase. They are superfatted with coconut, almond, and olive oil, as well as shea butter. I use them for face, body, and shampoo. The scents are natural and include triple orange with dried orange rind for exfoliant, cedar with coffee for exfoliant (removes garlic and onion smells from your hands, patchouli, fennel and rosemary, and the creamiest of all, goat milk vanilla. I am offering them for purchase and include samples with every order. Will gladly craft custom scents. I use natural scents from my garden as much as possible.
If you want to order, email me Lbeth1950@hotmail.com

Mindful Monday – Healthy Living: How to CONTROL Your Inner PIG!

Welcome to Mindful Monday – Healthy Living! Each week I try to examine new or sometimes old things about myself on my journey to becoming healthier. I have found that being mindful encompasses the …

Source: Mindful Monday – Healthy Living: How to CONTROL Your Inner PIG!