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Post by Phalon on Oct 20, 2006 21:18:11 GMT -6
First, the Humor Du Jour series, Yo, and then Clown Loyal. I can't help it - I like these threads. Threads with no particular topic but whatever happens to be on your mind at the time. No guilt about straying off-topic, (does anyone at anytime really ever feel guilty about that? Pfft.)
But here it is. Whatever.
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Post by katina2nd on Oct 21, 2006 0:01:49 GMT -6
Ummmmm, this place looks interesting, must come back again.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 21, 2006 6:00:07 GMT -6
It is, of course, only as interesting as the conversation that takes place here.
And right now, I've nothing interesting to say. I need more coffee; I'm just simulating conversation, instead of stimulating.
But then again, I'm thinking coffee won't do anything help there.
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Post by leafsoup on Oct 21, 2006 9:16:38 GMT -6
Dishes in the sink and I can't bring myself to wash them. Is it a control thing..don't do it because I don't want to or don't do it because I don't have to? Ever wake up wondering if you are spending the day living life because you want to or because you have to? And if you have to ..when are you going to spend it doing the things you want to do? Maybe part of this comes from the empty nest syndrome which has been a topic coming up in conversation more than once this week with friends. Strangers telling me they don't know what to do with their lives now that their children are gone. Women asking me "Who am I now?" For those with little kids, it is the zone of life for which you aren't prepared.
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Post by lolapunk on Oct 22, 2006 0:47:29 GMT -6
Leafsoup, hello. Don't believe we've been formally introduced but I didn't come knocking on your door to ask the you, as the new neighbor, for a cup of sugar. Oh no; I come bearing gifts. A fine Pinot Noir and this fabulous gourd. Do with it what you will; I'll not be offended if you choose to not keep it and I see it in your yard sale next spring. Happy Halloween and welcome to the 'hood.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 22, 2006 6:42:13 GMT -6
As one of those who still have little kids, and who has "empty-nester" friends, I sometimes wonder why Hubs and I decided to wait so long to have children. A little bit envious sometimes, of those who can go out and don't have to worry about if it's a "school-night" - gotta be home early because the kids have to get up for school in the morning; worry about finding someone to watch them while we're gone, and all those other things that come with having young children that my friends have "been there, done that, and are now finished with it".
If I had the choice, I wonder if I would do it differently. Probably not; I like being an "older Mom", and have another group of friends in the same place. It's a trade-off, I think: The girls make me feel old, and keep me young at the same time. I'm going with the theory that one cancels out the other.
It works for me.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 22, 2006 6:43:27 GMT -6
Oh, and Leafsoup, you've been "pumpkined" by Lola; see the "Pumpkin Tossing" thread for details.
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Post by leafsoup on Oct 22, 2006 8:17:53 GMT -6
I too had my children late and to wonder if having them younger would give me a chance at a different life earlier..well it just wouldn't matter. To have been blessed to have them at all makes the timeframe not relevant. Guess the only difference is being a single mom all these years and waking up finding out that you are more than just a mom, but "what" and the best part of your life is being that mom. Life goes on and it is full of surprises. I too, Phalon, think the old moms and the young ones are a great combination.
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Post by leafsoup on Oct 22, 2006 8:30:33 GMT -6
Yikes and double Yikes! Thanks for including me in the pumpkin throwing. So, how does one go about tossing a swirling pumpkin to another well deserved recipient? ?? I need details girlies, like "click this, do this and then that". And I honestly can tie my own shoes..really.
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Desire
Whooshite Apprentice
You may conquer with the sword, but you are conquered by a kiss.
Posts: 218
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Post by Desire on Oct 22, 2006 10:48:07 GMT -6
Okay click the pumpkin, it will take you to the thread that explains the whole pumpkin throwing fun. And don't get caught with it.
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Post by leafsoup on Oct 22, 2006 14:05:34 GMT -6
I think I will be stuck with it ..if I dont figure this out in a hurry!
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Post by Phalon on Oct 23, 2006 20:30:22 GMT -6
It's been a while; I wonder if she'll show? But she's been outta her gourd for so long, it's time she got a new one. Oh Gams...
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gams
Whooshite Candidate
Phalon II
I've Phalon and I can't get up.
Posts: 41
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Post by gams on Oct 23, 2006 20:34:13 GMT -6
Ok, Phalon - I see how you are - smack me upside the head with a gourd and expect me to play nice. Pfft. You just wait Missy, til you're asleep. Oh wait...that's not gonna work is it?
Ok, off the pass the squash to the unsuspecting.
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Post by Phalon on Oct 25, 2006 22:25:34 GMT -6
Sheesh - the board was slower than usual today. Lookit all those Phalons on the front page - I hate when that happens; I feel like I'm talking to myself. Not that that's anything new; I do it at least a dozen times a day.
Hhmm...what shall I say now? I don't even have any bad jokes to tell. And not enough time to finish up the page, and post in the rest of the threads. Not even I can ramble on about nothing that much. I hope.
Ah well. Enjoy your evenings, Tators, and your day tomorrow.
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Desire
Whooshite Apprentice
You may conquer with the sword, but you are conquered by a kiss.
Posts: 218
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Post by Desire on Oct 26, 2006 6:38:19 GMT -6
naw i click on here and see all these phalon's and i just follow to that thread figure i have something amusing to read.
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Post by mabd on Oct 26, 2006 12:02:36 GMT -6
And I honestly can tie my own shoes..really. There, there, don't be upset. Joxcie has had to pull most of us out of some morass at some point. First, welcome. I'm glad you wandered in. Your first task is to not worry about grammar or syntax (unless we are doing "The War Of The Syntax, Part 58)." You'll find lots of agreement and a bit of disagreement. Interestingly, there seems to be a whole crew of us doing that empty nest thing: my STP (sub-text partner) has it really bad, her nephews were raised by her...one's done with college and working, the other is got a year of college left. We figure that we did okay -- no-one got arrested or fathered any babies (well, none that we know of). Maybe this will cheer you up <evil grin>. I could read and write all that jazz. For love or money, I could not tie my shoes. Disaster loomed ahead. So my father got me loafers. But my heels kept slipping out. Big, BIG problem. My dad hung in there -- he taped my feet into my shoes. Finally, a left-handed friend asked if she could teach me. I was perfect in 5 minutes. Joxcie's wand has the same effect. Anyway, back to empty nests. The youn'n can swing himself onto the back of a dualie (KAT trans: big, honking pickup) without jumping or using anything but his arms. I blink, and see a boy buying Beanie Babies. A boy who went to his first auction and bought a mop(??). Now his fastball clocks at over 90 mph. And my time seems to move at that speed; his is much slower. I know both of the boys are alright. Somehow that doesn't soothe me. It must be hormone time.... Maeve
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Post by leafsoup on Oct 26, 2006 21:31:26 GMT -6
Maeve dear, Thank you for the welcome and funny that your dad taped you in your shoes! Yeah, the grown up years are hardest for moms and I guess the kids just don't know the memories of children tucked in bed waiting for a story or a kiss are as vivid in my head as the last conversation I had with them this week. I look in their faces and see the same face at 6, only it has changed a bit and the things they want for Christmas are different. My son wanted a mop and broom set when he was little. He loved to help me clean and my husband (the ex) was sure he was going to grow up to be a janitor if I bought it. I did it anyway. Wish I had kept that little broom. although I have kept way too many things, hopeful they will appreciate it when they are my age. My daughter drew a picture in first or second grade of a line of cars on the highway. The "word balloons" over the police car said "Slow down!" I framed it for her after her 2nd driving too close and smashing someone else's bumper ticket! She kept it for a couple years and gave it back to me. It must not have fit the decor of a college student on her own. I am not soothed either these days.. and the hormones are vanishing like invisible ink from a pen. Happy days are soon to return.
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Post by Phalon on Nov 4, 2006 22:47:25 GMT -6
Hey there, Leafsoup. I see you logged in this moment. How's your weekend going?
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Post by Phalon on Nov 4, 2006 23:25:13 GMT -6
Too quick to come and go, she is.
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Post by Phalon on Nov 6, 2006 23:26:16 GMT -6
I got a call at work today - the dreaded call. I was out on the grounds, and got a call on my radio, "You're daughter's preschool teacher, Mrs. Rules-with-an-Iron-Fist-but-the-Kids-Love-her-anyway, is on the phone for you". I drop what I'm doing as my heart drops to my feet. That is the thing parents dread: a call from school. Is she hurt; is she sick? Has she told the teacher that I made her hug her sister yesterday, did the teacher then call the authorities, and I am to be arrested for using cruel and unusual punishment to break up a sibling argument?
But no - wait. My daughter is not in preschool; she's in kindergarten, and has Mrs. Sweet-as-Can-Be this year. Why the heck is Iron-Fist calling me? HA! She wanted a recipe....my recipe. Can you believe it?!
LMAO. For trail-mix. Which is actually a hodge-podge of stuff I threw together practically on the way out the door one morning because I'd forgotten I'd signed up to bring a "healthy" snack that day. Grab whatever is in the cupboard: Cheerios, Goldfish crackers, raisins, chocolate chip morsels, and mini-pretzels, dump it all in a bowl and call it good. Healthy? Good enough. The kids loved it; BP loved helping make it, and we ended up having to bring it to every dang preschool function that required a snack be brought.
Mrs. Iron-Fist wanted to know how to bake it. I told her at 475 degrees for twenty minutes or until sufficiently burnt. No, no, no...I'm lying on that part. If it can't be done in a microwave, and smell like burnt popcorn when done, I don't bake it. The trail-mix is eaten raw.
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Post by katina2nd on Nov 10, 2006 20:40:53 GMT -6
Congratulations Lady P, that would have to be a world first wouldn't it, somebody actually calling you to ask for a recipe? Always knew you had many skills, some you don't even know about yourself apparently.
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Post by Phalon on Nov 11, 2006 6:59:18 GMT -6
It was a slip-up on my part, Katina. I was not being careful enough. <glances around to make sure no one is watching> Remember my secret.....?
Shhhhh....I am a good cook, (though I don't bake). And if word gets out, I figure I'll be asked to actually do it; instead of being responsible for bringing napkins, paper-plates and plastic silverware to all those functions that come up - picnics, pot-lucks, and school functions - I might be required to actually make something, rather than just running to the store on the way home from work, and dashing down the paper products aisle.
And so I keep my good cooking in the closet.....which of course, has its own set of problems: Ever smell burnt wool? I set my wool coat on fire the other day. Wool you believe it?
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Post by Siren on Nov 11, 2006 16:39:33 GMT -6
My oldest sister is known for her lack of want-to and of skills with it comes to cooking. Hates it, and usually has results that reflect that. She once brought something - I think it was brownies - to a potluck at work, and was asked at every function after that to bring the utensils, plates, etc. LOL! She was happy to oblige.
Hurrah for you, Gams! I love trail mix, and your variation sounds yummy.
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Post by katina2nd on Nov 12, 2006 0:38:14 GMT -6
Ahhhh right, very cunning of you Lady P, keeping your culinary expertise under your hat [ so to speak ] so you won't get roped into supplying anything other then paper products [ and trail-mix of course ] and don't worry, Mrs. Rules-with-an-Iron-Fist will never hear it from me.
And do be careful with that "closet" cooking, don't want you ending up with singed frillies.
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Post by Phalon on Nov 12, 2006 6:13:54 GMT -6
I'm thinking your sister brought less-than-perfect brownies to work on purpose, Siren. That is how us don't-like-to-cook people do; our minds think up inventive ways to get out of it.
No, no, no...I like to cook when I have the time - really I do. But I hate following recipes; I like winging it better. Throwing things together - separate ingredients that alone have little enticement, but together.....wow, pack quite a punch, nearly bowling one over with their combined taste is something I enjoy. But rarely do I find the time to do it like I like. Weekdays, after work, hotdogs are my speciality. Which is why Hubs does most of the cooking then. How many hotdogs can one eat?
But I am currently reading a cookbook - really I am. Something that caught my eye at the library. I'm reading it for the articles, and keep the cover wrapped in plain brown paper so no one knows exactly what I'm reading. Ok, ok....so I pour over the glossy pictures too; it's part of the excitement - who could help but look at all those scantily clad bodies in revealing bathing suits. I can barely put it down.
It's actually a cookbook with stories of summer tucked between the recipes; stories of summer in Michigan, and some of them bring back memories of my childhood, driving "up-north" for those memorable summer vacations with my family, and the places and things in the stories are things I can remember doing and seeing. Others are written about a time much older than me, but still fascinating - the excitement of summer as a kid never changes. The pictures are interesting - there are a few of the town we're living in now - beach scenes from the 1800's with "scantily-clad" bathing beauties in their "revealing bathing suits" that cover nearly as much skin as what I wear everyday fully clothed.
Don't worry, Katina. My racey frillies are out in the stables with the stallions.....I'm just horsing around on that one.
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Post by xenavirgin on Nov 15, 2006 18:23:49 GMT -6
Ooh good thread. I love to cook and bake, when I have the time and energy, which isn't as often as I would like. I have an entire bookshelf of cookbooks and recipe cards in the kitchen.
I love to cook mediterranean style foods, Greek, Italian Spanish, Egyptian, hehe.
Now here's one that'll make you chuckle. Just note, that when I'm in cooking mode, I zone out on everything else and get totally focused on the kitchen.
A few years ago a friend sent me a copy of the modern version of the ancient Roman Cookbook by the Roman Gourmand Aspicius (it was originally published in the 1st century C.E.). She thought it would be fun to combine two of my personal passions, ancient history and cooking.
It's a great book, adapted for modern cooking (i.e. take 3 pounds of beef, instead of "take half an Ox.") and avoiding the more exotic recipies like Larks tongue in calves brain pate.
Anyway, when I got it, I decided to have a Roman dinner party, a good ol 4 course dinner. Picked a lovely starter, Fishpickle pate on thin toast, olive oil and fennel quails eggs (you can get em here in England), orange chicken with forcemeat stuffing, carrots in olive oil and cumin, cucumber with fennel and honey and a Roman custard tart for dessert.
As I was planning the main course, I was wondering what style I should do the potatoes. ANd because I was in cooking mode, I went throught the cookbook cover to cover 3 times before I smacked my head and realised
"The Romans didn't have potatoes, mush for brains!" LOL
I ended up doing a lovely mash of lentils and chickpeas with spices.
I've used the book a lot, it's great fun.
XV
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Post by Phalon on Nov 21, 2006 23:26:34 GMT -6
Not necessarily a thread about cooking, X-Virgin, but more of "what's cooking", although food is a favorite subject of mine.
Your dinner party sounded like a good one. Was it a costume thing; that would have been cool. One of the funnest, (that's not a word, I'm thinking), dinner parties we went to stated in the invitation what to bring: a dozen eggs. Each guest was required to bring a different item. When we arrived, all the items were placed on a table, the guests split into teams: the appetizer team, salad team, main entree team, dessert team, etc. We then had to choose items from the table to make our creation. No recipes provided. Interesting meal.
Too funny about the potato thing. It reminds me of a dish I had to cook with LX. Her Girl Scout troop was putting on an "Around the World Dinner" for the parents, and each girl had to bring an international dish to pass. Oriental foods; hot, spicy Mexican dishes, French cuisine. Mine signs up to bring potatoes; she loves potatoes. Uhm, Dear....what do you have in mind? French fries.
No, no, no....German potato salad did nothing for her either. So we studied the one cookbook I own: The Joy of Cooking. Which I think is a sister companion to The Joy of Sex. Because food and sex are so closely related; they go hand and mouth. Take that as you will.
So in "Joy" we find a recipe for "Leftover Potatoes O'Brien". HA! An Irish recipe! Close enough for me to call it that anyway; what could be more Irish sounding than "O'Brien"? And it's a good recipe; similar to scalloped potatoes. And having just a bit o' the Irish in her, she thought it sounded cool. Cool. I can make left-over potatoes.
Only when, at the dinner, she gets up to explain the ethnicity of her dish, she says just that: "It's left-over potatoes from Ireland." The famine maybe.
This was a few years ago, but just this past weekend we went to dinner at friends' and brought "Potatoes O'Brien Not Leftover". Hubs made it; he's the Irish one.
I would have brought French Fries.
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Post by Phalon on Nov 24, 2006 18:50:09 GMT -6
It is hunting season here; manly men, (and women), dressing up in camouflage and florescent orange to sit out in the cold and shoot Bambi. Not that I have anything against hunters, I don't - the responsible, law-abiding ones anyway. My brothers bow hunt, (never have I known them to actually shoot anything). My neighbor hunts, and proudly came by the other day, giving Hubs a venison roast.
Hubs doesn't hunt.
I'm thinking he might be suffering from a case of I-gotta-go-out-and-kill-something syndrome. Stalking the wild duo-cassette player. Yep, the static finally got to him. Every one on this board has at one time or another read, (or at least skimmed by), in one thread or another of the static woes we suffer; the radios, (along with portable phones), in my house do not seem to pick up reception without a bunch of static. Hubs' garage "boom-box" - and ancient cassette/radio thingy he had before we were married uttered its last breath of static yesterday.
He killed it with a B-B gun. He saved the cord though. Why? He can not say. Perhaps it was in a moment of remorse in which he pulled the plug.
Hubs doesn't shop much. Hubs would never, ever shop on "Black Friday". Is there anyone insane enough to fight the crowds and subject themselves to such torture.
He got his new garage radio today. I guess he was desperate.
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Post by Siren on Nov 25, 2006 13:18:03 GMT -6
I can top your "garage radio", Gams - my dad's barn radio. This 70's-era, then-mod-looking radio/8-track combo has been in constant use in the barn shed next to the chicken house for many years - 10, at least. I mean CONSTANT use, in that it is never turned off. My dad leaves it playing overnight in an attempt to keep predators scared away from the chickens.
I used a recipe from "The Joy Of Cooking" this weekend - a simple cranberry relish made of fresh cranberries, orange juice, sugar, water, and walnuts. So easy, and so delicious. I nearly ate it up before I got it into a container to take to my mom's. And I think it was better hot than cold. Yum, YUM!
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Post by Phalon on Nov 25, 2006 22:22:12 GMT -6
Siren, your predator deterring dad's barn radio reminds me of my neighbor's mole repellent device.
My neighbor is a cool guy; a nice old man who will celebrate his 95th birthday this year. But I cringe when I see him in a public setting - the grocery store, or god-forbid the pharmacy line at Wal-Mart, because I know it'll end up in a shouting match.
Neighbor guy is nearly deaf, and refuses to wear a hearing aid. We yell at each other across the fence, in parking lots, or among others waiting oh-so-patiently in line at Wal-Mart. And still I know he does not catch half of what I'm yelling because his responses rarely have anything to do with what I yelled. Or maybe he's just avoiding that particular subject; I don't know.
I do know though that his lack of complete hearing drove our family and the other neighbors insane for a summer. He was the mole-stalker, adamant on ridding his yard of these pesky tunnelers. So he rigged up an alarm clock contraption that ran through an underground pipe and rang for twenty-four hours a day. Everyday. He couldn't hear it. The rest of the neighborhood could. The moles probably did, but didn't care. The alarm clock wore out. We rejoiced. He installed another. None of us had the heart to tell him we were all ready to put our houses up for sale; he is such a sweet guy.
And then miraculously his moles disappeared. Into our yard. I think Hubs baited them, begging them to come here please, so Gary would turn off his alarm clock. He did, and gave Hubs his steel mole trap.
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