A Glutton For Punishment

What can I say?  Apparently I think that doing the same thing over and over, hoping for a different out come, will work.  Isn't that the definition of insanity.  Wait--let me Google that.

Yep--found it.


I asked Darlene to go with me to the Nutcracker Ballet performance Sunday.  She seemed excited and it wasn't too bad.  She talked continually all the way over--only a 20 minute drive and was fairly quiet and calm during the program.

We had wonderful seats!  3rd row, center stage.  In fact, we were so close that when the professional ballet dancers came out to dance The Sugar Plum Fairy, I could see the woman's panty liner sticking out just a teeny bit under her tutu!

Anyway, Karen was there and her son Marcus..my son-in-law was backstage working the fog and snow machine and changing the scenery and working the curtains.

Madeleine was one of the dolls this year.  The Spanish Dancer doll and when she did her solo dance, she was wonderful.  She has such personality and stage presence.  She didn't just dance the role, but she put in flirtatious little moves of her head, behind her black lace fan.  There was a report later that she was the best Spanish Dancer Doll they have ever had.

This makes the 10 year in a row I have seen the Nutcracker.  She started out as a little mouse and is now dancing with the more professional girls.  She started ballet when he was almost 4--so darling in her little white tights and shoes and pink tutu.

Dar was very impressed with Karen and the family, as she should have been, in my humble opinion.  We stopped on the way home and got Chinese for supper.  It wasn't too bad a time, but she does wear me out with her continually ramblings.

This morning, I was going up to The Farm again--my sister made a porch decoration out of our old sled and I got some vintage ice skates on e-bay for 20 bucks for her to hang on the sled.

Just as I was about to leave, Dar came in.  She was all in an emotional melt down AGAIN--you know how she gets.  It looked like it was going to be a long morning and I had to be up at The Farm by 10:00, so I said, "Dar, do you want to ride up with me?"

"Oh yes!  I would like to see where you were raised and meet your sister and it would help me relax."

Of course, before we got too far, we had to stop so she could her "Super, Decaf, Skinny, Hot, Mocha, With Whipped Cream" Bigby coffee.  I continued to drive as she sipped the coffee.

You've seen the movie "When Harry Met Sally"?  Well, for the next mile, she acted like Sally in the restaurant scene!  I KID YOU NOT!!

Then she started talking and, for the next 25 minutes, she told me all about her stay in the mental ward and her near suicide and how "All three of my psychiatrist's came to my house to talk me through it!"
<really>

I had a headache by the time I got near The Farm and I slowed down to show her the home where I raised my kids (where Pammie lives) and the farm up on the corner where I was born (where Mark) lives and then turned left to go to Susan's.  I explained it all to her and as we drove in Susan's driveway, I explained where the addition started on the old house and what was the original house.

My poor sister!  She gave Dar a tour of the house and Dar was busy blathering about her grandmother's house in Detroit.  Then she'd asked Susan a question and Susan would answer.  But, I could tell, Dar wasn't listening, she was too busy thinking in her head of what SHE wanted to say.

Twice she asked Susan, "Now, this is all the original house?"

Susan said, "No.  We added this part on."

"Now, you said this was your parent's home--where you and Judy grew up?"

"No.  That is the farm up on the corner."

"Oh yes, where Pam lives now."

"No.  Mark."

"Where do you work, Sue."
<my sister hates to be called Sue.>

"I'm retired.  When we lived in New York, I worked for the county agency for spousal, child and elder abuse."

Then of course, Dar had to tell Susan her sad tale of being abuse as a child AND a wife AND now, by her children.

I was getting very twitchy, so I got her out of there.  She still wanted to see our little town of Byron.  First, I made her stand for a moment by the car and I said, "Take a deep breathe and...just listen."

"Oh...gosh....all I hear is the breeze.  It's awfully quiet isn't it?"

"Yes.  Isn't it lovely."

and we got in the car.

"I'd be scared to live out here," she said.

"What?"

"I'd be scared to live way out here with no close neighbors.  What is someone broke in and robbed you?"

"And, who would do that?  You know everyone around for miles--your neighbor's.  They wouldn't break in."

"What if................."

"You would be safer out here than anywhere you've ever lived.  What do you think....some robber is going to drive an hour out from Flint or Lansing and just happen to pick your house to rob?"

"What if your husband beat you up.  There would be no one to hear your screams and help you."

"Dar...my second husband beat me up weekly and tried to kill me.  We lived in a town house with neighbors on each side.  That didn't stop him and oh...by the way...no one called 911 to help me!"
<oh, I was getting beyond irritated.>

So I drove over to the cemetery to show her where most of my family is buried and I told her to get out of the car and walk over to our family plot.  I walk along and show her the markers and my marker and then on the way back to the car, she stops and looks down and said, "This is one on your family plot?"

"Of course.  Why?"

"Well, who is Frederick?"
<oh my good Lord...I am just going to trip her and bash her head on the ground!>

"You don't know whose marker this is?"

"No.  It isn't the same last name as yours."

"You don't know anyone named Fredrick who died on new year's day in 2012?"

She looked at me, sort of confused....

"It's Fred!"

"I didn't know his name was Fredrick."

Back in the car...I no longer have any desire to show her my childhood hometown or anything other than get this idiot home!

I had no choice by to drive through Byron to get home and as I got into town she said, "Now I want to see your school and your church."

So I continued on down the block to show her.

She gave each a cursory glance and I also pointed out the Baptist church just up the street.  Then I drove half a block and as we started to pass by the Baptist church she said, "Oh my Gawd.  Is that some one's home?"

"No.  That's the Baptist church I pointed out three minutes ago."

"Oh."

Finally, back on the road headed south toward home and she started in telling me about when she was "held captive" (her words), by the black man she lived with for twenty years--all the way home!  I think I must have broken every speed limit in the county to get her home and rid of her!
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I was exhausted!  I grabbed a snack, watched my soap, kicked back my recliner and woke up two hours later!!

She doesn't understand why I would want to live out in the country where it is "so quiet and spooky and probably really dark at night."  She doesn't understand why my friends that I met the first day of Kindergarten feel like family to me.  She doesn't understand why anyone who grew up "there" would want to get married and still live there the "entire rest of your life?"

Perhaps, if she was really interested and had paid a bit more attention today, she might have figured it out?

She's a city girl.  She can't possibly understand why I loved living "way out" in the country away from "all the activity" anymore than I would understand why she would want to live in a dirty, noisy, creepy, scary city.

Saturday Post and Ponderings

I am so disappointed in blogging--not mine or most of yours, but because of Face Book, a lot of my favorite bloggers no longer blog.  They post what is going on in their lives, on Face Book.  Not the "whole" story, like I used to get in their blogs, but just a tidbit.  I hate it!!

I don't think people who truly enjoy writing use Face Book for that means.  We "writer's" need to be more descriptive or open or, at least write down our feelings.  We writer's who live alone must journal of our day, to get it down, to see comments, just to make sure people know we are still alive, or so that their comments let us know we are still relevant or that our blogger friends "get it".

Anyway--I miss my friends who "used" to blog and now...don't.
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I was pondering something this past week--I ponder a lot you know and then I put it here to see if I am totally nuts or if anyone else has done it, or just to get it out of my head.

I looked back and realized that, my life is better in odd numbered years than in even numbered years.  Isn't that the weirdest thing to think about?  Is it because I was born in an odd numbered year?  Is it just a coincidence?  (Probably).

I started with this year, thinking what a brutal year it has been for me and than I thought, "Last year didn't seem too bad."  Than I remembered--2012 was awful--Fred died January 1st.  2010 was not so great, that's when he had his massive heart destroying attack.  Yes, he lived, but his life was never very good after that.  2008 my Dad died and my sister and I had our inheritance stolen.  In 2002, I was pushed out of my job, by illegal means.  Before that, 1992, I was downsized out from my great job at GM.  1988 I married for the second time to a man who abused me almost daily and tried to kill me three times.  1982 my first husband and I separated.  My wonderful mother died in 1970, my blessed Grandmother in 1966.  1946 I lost part of my index finger.

The odd numbered years seem a whole lot better to me--1939 I was born.  1945 WWII ended.  1957 I graduated and got married.  Three of my children were born in 1959, 1961 and 1971.   I moved in with my dear friend Ernie in 1993.  I moved here in 2003.  I met Fred in 2005.  

Bottom line--I am expecting 2015 to be a much better year for me!!
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I just found out that my vintage Avon porcelain nativity set with stable is selling for $500.00 on e-bay!!  NO--I am not going to sell mine--I'd just spend the money and not have the precious nativity.

When my Dear Friend Chris was living with me, back in the mid-80's, I sold her the 3 piece Holy Family.  She mentioned she remembered it and still has it.

Her comment made me remember and sure enough, in the bottom of the storage tub where I keep all my nativities, was the small stand to use with just the 3 pieces.  I hadn't used it ever because I always used the little stable in this pix.

So, I boxed it up and mailed it to her.  She was thrilled as am I that she has it!

When I was checking e-bay to find a picture of it to post here, there was one for sale for $49.00!!!  I think it came in it's original box however, and I never keep the original boxes on anything, LOL.

BREAKING NEWS!

Item #1:  The influenza virus has mutated!  Our influenza vaccines we do dutifully received last fall are not as effective as we hoped.   This is how civilization will be wiped out.  Not my nuclear war, nor earthquake, flood or famine, but by a microscopic, mutated bug that there is no vaccine for.  We will go out, not with a bang, but with a whimper while we lay in our own vomit and diarrhea covered beds!  Stiff with pain, and coughing our lungs out.

Item #2:  There are no greeting sized envelopes in this county!  I always make my own birthday cards to send to friends because...have you seen the price for one birthday card sold in stores??!!  I was out of greeting card size envelopes.  No big deal you say?  HAH--that's what you think!  Last week on my venture to Wal-Mart, I went to the mailing section and they had no envelopes that size--I usually get them there.  I had to go across the road to the Meijer store, so I checked there--NaDa!  

I have finished making my Christmas cards, so, today I decided to make a quick trip up to the Staples store in Brighton.  They have hundreds of boxes of envelopes--none for greeting cards however.  So, I drove over to the Target store and walked to their mailing supply section.  Again, hundreds of boxes of business envelopes, thank you note card envelopes, medium envelopes, no greeting card envelopes.

Considering the fact that I was now on a quest, I drove on over to the Meijer store in Brighton.  Of course, the parking lot was full and I had to walk at least 175 miles to get in the store and I purposefully and quickly strode way to the back of the store--their typing paper and mailing supplies area.  They had one box of greeting card envelopes--in assorted, lovely pastel colors.  I do not want to send out my Christmas cards in pale pink, blue, violet or green envelopes!.  I strode back to the front of the store.  By now, hips, back and legs were nearly incapable of carrying me along.  In fact I noticed, I was staggering a bit and walking quite like a person who had tasted a bit to many glasses of Peach Schnapps!

Just as I was exiting the building, a lady with a cane said, "Where are all the shopping carts?"  I looked, and there were none.  "I'll get you one," I said and promptly staggered out to the parking lot and the nearest cart corral and brought back a cart.  

"Oh!  Thank you my dear, that was so nice of you."

"Merry Christmas", I called as I staggered out of sight.

175 miles back to my car, dragging my right leg the last 100 miles and there, on the ground by my car, was a Meijer bag.  Inside was...8 Christmas cards WITH ENVELOPES.  I grabbed the bag and groaned, then staggered back to the store and the Customer Service to turn them in.  I so wanted to keep the envelopes, but you know...it isn't worth going to Hell for stealing 8 envelopes!!

I sat in the car for a moment to see if I were still capable of returning home--to my simmering pot of spaghetti sauce left on the stove because the trip was only going to take 20 minutes and said, "Dear Lord--what is the chances of this area having no greeting card envelopes?"

He didn't answer, so I just came home.  Got on the computer and ordered from staples on-line.  I should have them by Monday.

Item #3:  Although Maggie The Cat knows that it is a "No No" to mess with the Christmas tree and although, during the day, Maggie is quite the wonderful kittie and does not disturb a thing, apparently she is quite smart enough to know that once I am either out of the house, or sleeping soundly, it is her chance to tug the crystal beaded rope from the lowest branches and take down a few ornaments also.  There they were laying on the tree skirt and Maggie?  She was quite contentedly napping in the sun by the window.

Item #4:  The way "they" pack ground beef nowadays, if you want to brown it into separated crumbles like, you have to keep chopping it with a spoon or something like that.  Otherwise, it will brown into chunks of meat.  I do not want chunks of meat in my spaghetti sauce, I want crumbled up browned ground beef.  Because the pot I use is so tall, I have to elevate my arthritic right elbow and keep chopping with a long handled spatula while the meat browns.  Chopping, turning, chopping, turning.  By the time I am done, my right elbow and shoulder kill me!!
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I guess that is all the Breaking News and griping I have for today.  Have a nice weekend, I will for sure.

See ya Monday!

I Have Been Busy

I have been up to my grommets with doing stuff the last couple days and thus--whipped by the evening and not in the mood to post.

My Social Security check hit my bank account yesterday in the a.m. and as soon as I saw that, I jumped into my car, up town to fill up my car with gas--$2.75 (this morning I noticed it was $2.69), but when you're driving on fumes, you gotta get gas no matter the price.  I allow myself $40.00 a month for gas.  Yesterday I filled up for $28.00, so, when I got home, I called and made an appointment to get my hair cut AND--I got a brow wax/pluck/arch!!  (It hurt!  Glad I don't have to get one of those Brazilian/Bikini wax thingies!)  YIKES

This morning, I was up at the crack of dawn (8:30) and soon on my way to Wal-Mart to forage for food.  This past weekend, I had popcorn and milk 3 nights in a row because I had no other food.  I love popcorn and milk so it was not a big deal, but I would have liked a bit  more protein in my diet, LOL.

I spent more at Wal-Mart for food than I have in several months.  I usually spend the same amount of money each month, but this morning, I bought practically a month's worth of food at one time.  I even got a small turkey breast to roast--still missing the turkey/stuffing that we didn't have for Thanksgiving.  I don't particularly like turkey, but I do get a yen for it a couple times a year.

I got some good ground round to make my last batch of spaghetti sauce.  And fruit--and a tiny cake!!  and that macaroni salad I like, and tuna to put in it.   When I go to the food pantry in a couple of weeks, I will try and get some hamburger--and they have tomatoes and stuff so I can make a huge batch of chili and freeze.  

On the way home, I stopped and got myself a Subway for lunch.  I still have $2.00 left on my gift card.

In between all the running, I have been creating and making my Christmas cards.  I bought a coil of 100 stamps last summer and because now, I pay most of my bills on-line, I won't have to buy stamps to send out the cards.  I ALWAYS buy Christmas stamps, but just won't be able to this year.

I make my normal cards for people I send to and them I make personal ones for my family.  I created a really cool one for Baby Evan--last year he was into Elmo--this year, it's Curious George.  It turned out so cute.

Pammie called.  She has made 50 medium sized afghans and 100 ski hats.  Jennifer has a connection in Detroit and she and Pam are going there to distribute them to the homeless.  The neat thing is, the kids got up one morning last week when it was so bitter cold and couldn't find their hats from last year and were running all over the house yelling "I need a hat!"  So Pam had them come down to her room in the basement, opened up her storage tub, filled with hats and let them pick out one for themselves.

When Andrew got home from school, he told Pam that a lot of his friends want a hat just like his. So he and Pam worked out a deal.  Andrew takes the hats to school and his friends pay him.  Then, he gives Pam $2.00, which is all she wants--just to buy more  yarn, and Andrew keeps the rest.  At $5.00 a hat, neither one is making any money, but they are having fun with it.  Andrew did have a friend that could not afford a hat, so four of his friends chipped in and bought him one.

I love these grand children of mine--all of them are so kind and giving and wanting to help others.
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Karen called and invited me over for Christmas Day--she mentioned that I came last year (I had totally forgotten.)  I of course, will go and we will have fun!!!  All her kids are home for the Christmas holiday.

Jennifer's birthday was yesterday.  I made this collage to put on face book.  No mention of her name or age.  I don't think she looks on face book anyway.

I vowed to myself that this year I would not feed the squirrels, but..............I couldn't figure out what to put their feed on so I could see them from my recliner.  Two days, I thought and thought and then, it came to me.  I took one of my railing flower boxes and put it up on the railing and put some corn and peanuts out for them.  Now I can see ALL the activity.

and, Maggie The Cat has a ring-side seat!

Speaking of Maggie, I told her if she kept destroying Jesus' birth place, when she died, He will not let her onto the Rainbow Bridge!

The easiest solution, pack the nativity away 

and let her

enjoy her favorite spot to nap.

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Tomorrow I am making spaghetti sauce and getting my Christmas cards in their envelopes.  Saturday, I have to run up to The Farm and help my sister.  Sunday afternoon is the Nutcracker to watch Maddie dance again--11th year in a row-  ARGGH!

Karen had an extra ticket--row C, seat 107 and 108--really good seats, she gave it to me to ask one of my friends.  So, I asked Pearl.  GOOD GRIEF!!

"Pearl, Karen gave me an extra ticket to the Nutcracker.  Would you like to go with me?"

"When is it?"

"This Sunday, at 2:00.  We'll leave here a bit after 1:00."

"I don't think so.  I can't walk that far."

"Oh--it's not a difficult walk.  We can park right by the back door,  We walk in on ground level, stop and go potty, walk up two steps to the door to the theatre and walk over to our seats.  It's much less walking than you do at the grocery store or the Salvation Army store."

"No.  I better not.  You know I hurt when I walk."

"Okay.  Bye."

This afternoon I stopped into their house on my way home from my hair cut, just to say Hi.

"Did you guys go shopping?  I noticed your car was gone."

"Nope.  We went to the movies."

"The movies--in Brighton?"

"Yup."

======================

Now--this ticks me off.  They go to the movies all the time.  Nothing wrong with that for sure.  BUT--for her to get into the theatre, she has to walk from the parking lot--then she has to wait in line for her ticket--then she has to walk to the ticket taker, which is probably 70 steps, then she has to stand in line again to get popcorn and, depending on which room the movie is in, she would have to walk another 70-100 steps, and then up the steps to get to her seat.

She has just walked over twice the amount she would to go with me.

I get really ticked off at people that complain and moan and gripe about their physical problems, but won't do a damn thing about them.  Doctor has told her she needs to walk or she is going to lose all ability to do so.  Doctor has told her she needs to go to physical therapy to get strength back in her back and legs.  Doctor has told her she needs to lose fifty pounds. She refuses.  

Just sits in her damn chair, munching on potato chips and chocolate and gets fatter and fatter and complains that her legs and feet hurt.

Of course they hurt!!  Yet, she can walk just fine to get to a movie or if she wants to go out to eat, but makes Merle go across the street to get the mail, makes Merle vacuum the living room.    I am not real sympathetic to her complaining.

So--an hour later Dar stopped in, very calm, still dealing with the mess she is in with her doctors/surgeons/worker's comp, trying to get released so she can go back to work and...I asked her if she wanted to go with me Sunday.

She has never seen a live presentation of the Nutcracker and she is thrilled to go.  It might be (too) interesting an afternoon for me, but, at least I won't have to drive over and back all alone.  I might live to regret it, but...we shall see!

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Oh--I almost forgot.

Merle now brags about "taking care of my ladies."  We have garbage pick-up on Thursday--Thursday afternoon, around 1:00.  Some people put their garbage pails out the night before.  Most of us wait until Thursday morning.  I put mine about around 11:00.  Merle goes around and hauls the garbage pails out to the street and after the pick-up, he hauls the empty pail back to their houses.

This morning, I am sitting in here at 8:30 and saw Merle--he was hauling Dar's garbage pail out to the street.  Then he did the same over at Jackies.  Then, he heads over here and gets mine out.  Nice--sweet--generous.

I would have been a lovely gesture IF MY PAIL HAD BEEN READY!!!  I was NOT about to go to the door and tell him to bring it back as...I wasn't dressed appropriately to have a conversation with him!

So, at 11:00, I had to walk out to the street, haul my pail back up to the front steps and carry my trash out and then, haul it back to the street.

As soon as the garbage guys picked up, I ran out and got my empty pail and hauled it back myself!!!

I do not want to be one of "his ladies"!!

  

Done

It took me 4 days to get all the decorating done.  A big job for something no one will see, except me.  Is it worth it?  Of course it is--because--it is for me!  It is the only holiday I decorate for.  It is my favorite holiday.  I need shiny and bright at this time of the dark winter.  So--it's worth it.
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Just heard of a new on-line dating site.  FarmersOnly.com.   I wish they'd been around 30 years ago when I was hunting for a new husband that wanted to turn my farm into a productive venture.

Inch-By-Inch,......

.....it's getting there.



Saturday:

I put them up in the order they came out of the boxes, LOL

  

Last night, I caught someone who is not allowed up on the table, enjoying the Thomas Kincaid tree.

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Today--I don't care what anyone says--a Christmas Tree should not come out of a box, have to be put together and its branches "fluffed"!

A Christmas Tree needs to come out of the woods--with its natural shape--and decorated.

This plastic world has become ridiculous!!

Considering........

Considering there was no BIG family get together yesterday, I really had a very nice time.  Most of the time my kids celebrate Thanksgiving with their in-laws.  Some of the time, over the years, I have been invited to their homes--not for the last two years.  It had become a very sad day for me, especially since Fred died.

Then--my little sister moved back "home" and because her son celebrates the day with his in-laws, she has invited me the last two years.

I arrived about 11:30 and she was sitting at her kitchen island working on a craft that I recognized immediately.  A Christmas craft I hadn't done in well over 25 years.

"I was looking in some Christmas wrapping paper boxes that I haven't looked at since we moved.  Look what I found!  The pattern for petal balls!"

She had the gold and red foil paper already cut into the shapes we needed and we started putting them together.

"The last time I tried to make these, I got them all goofed up.  I made like three "hats" and then didn't know how to put them together," I said.

" Remember five on top or one hat, then five for the botton, another hat and then you take five separate ones and glue them to the top and bottom."

"Yes, now I remember!"

We learned how to make these 44+ years ago when our mother was shown the pattern by a friend.  We made them later--with my kids.  We made them every year because you couldn't store them or keep them from being crushed.  

Tiny ones, middle sized ones and large ones, in gold and red, silver and blue.  Whatever our Christmas color scheme was going to be.

Yesterday, we worked on a middle sized one.  It was nice, sitting there together, talking while we worked.  I had a really difficult time, trying to glue each petal together.  My shaking right hand makes that kind of intricate work nearly impossible.  Susie had to finish mine for me.

She is going to hang hers from the kitchen chandelier over the island.  I can't wait for my girls to see them on Christmas Eve.  They are going to scream with "Oh.  I remember those.  Grandma Dorathy's Petal Balls!"

 Mine looks rather like my girls did when they made their first ones at 6-7 years old.  Sad.

I used to help my little sister out with everything.  How to color and cut out paper dolls.  How to cook and take care of a house and what to do to take care of her babies.  Now, the roles are quite reserved.  She has to help me glue paper together!!!

"I so love getting old and decrepit!" said NO ONE EVER!!

After our craft session, we sat down  to eat.  Never turkey as my sister doesn't like it.  They eat so much chicken that they want something different on Thanksgiving.  A pork roast--pork is definitely NOT one of my favorite meat, however, (you don't say that to your hostess) so I ate it and baked potatoes and Brussel sprouts and corn from their garden and pork dressing.  AND the best apple pie I have had in ages.

Then, we chatted about the genealogy discoveries I had found and after about an hour of that, we played a game of UpWords.  I love playing cards and board games.  When I lived in Saginaw, Ernie and I used to play cards or UpWords or Backgammon or Scrabble every night after supper.  I miss not having anyone to play games with.

It started getting grey and cloudy outside, so I started home around 3:30.  It seems strange that this time of year, you notice it is starting to get a bit "dim" outside and the next two minutes, you turn around to look again and it's pitch black!!

I got home about 4:15 and it was difficult driving the last few miles.  It was a really nice day and just the right amount of togetherness.

==========================

I wanted to start decorating today.  Had to clean, dust and vacuum first and by the time I was done with that, my back, neck, shoulders, hands and legs were hurting.  So I only put up a little bit.  Just as long as I have it done so the outside and tree lights can go on Monday December 1st.  

Tradition ya know.

Purdy.

I don't if many of you follow Donna over on http://cottagedays.blogspot.com/.  Her husband has been battling cancer for quite a long time and is now in Hospice.  I think a few of us know how it feels to have a sick and/or dying mate around the holidays.  It just seems to make it all that much harder to bear.  A prayer for God's comforting arm around her shoulders, might be a nice thing to do for her.

Middle Of The Week Pondering

I ponder a lot--you know that, right?  I have always been a person who is interested in why people act as they do, think as they do, react as they do.  If you were to look at my college "report" cards you would see classes like: Clinical Psychology. Abnormal Psychology, Child Psychology, Sociology, Philosophy, Human Relations, even a class in Anthropology,

Over the years I have visited with many people;  different races, cultures, beliefs, and circumstances.  In the end, as I have thought of those people in my past, it appears, at least to me, that no matter the circumstances in a person's life, their reaction is based, in large part, on their DNA--their lineage, their culture.

I of course, know there are differences in every culture/race, but it seems to my observations:

Asians are stoic in their reactions.
English and Germanic people the same reserved, stoicism and stubborn.
Irish do seem to have more of a short temper.
Italians are more expressive and loud.
Spaniards, quite the same as Italians.
Puerto Ricans, too--must be the Spanish blood?
Greeks also--a lot of waving of hands and noisy.
Mexicans seem to have a lot of paranoia, even if they have lived in the US for generations.
Blacks seem to react to things in an expressive, loud, sometimes reactionary manner, letting all their emotions out.

 The Japanese man I had known all my life--nothing fazed him.  His parents were US citizens and yet put in the concentration camps in California during WWII.  Their land taken from them.  They did not fight back.  They lived it, got out, went on to college, became professionals and like he often said, "We are gradually buying out the US.  Just look at Hawaii" and then he laughed.

My people are English and German.  Again, fazed very little by whatever comes our way.  No one in my family cries at funerals, well, there may be tears, but no wailing and loud sobbing.  We conduct ourselves in what we perceive a "civilized", proper manner.  Family get-together's are quiet, calm, happy.  There isn't any yelling going on and also, not too much loud laughter. If there is a problem between two family members, you'd never know it.  There is no confrontation--at least not in front of anyone.

I had an Irish friend..the least little thing, set her off in the worse temper tantrum I have never seen.  There was occasional screaming and throwing of objects.  

I have an Italian friend.  There is a lot of gesticulating, and loud voice and when upset, an angry , fierce look to his face.

I had a Puerto Rican son-in-law for a few months.  Holy Cow--his family was dramatically expressive about everything!!  Happy or angry, there was a lot of yelling and gesticulating going on.

I have Mexican friends that I met while I lived in Saginaw.  Although they had lived here for a couple of generations, had good jobs with General Motors--they still were paranoid and felt they were being "profiled" by the police.  Their whole family--3 generations--lived together in one house.  There was a lot of yelling back and forth, but...the food was great.

 I had a relationship with a black man for a few weeks.  (Back then, in my 40's, I deemed myself to be very open minded and a bit Liberal.  My family knew nothing of this short lived relationship)

He was very well educated, very well spoken, a professional with General Motors and very quiet and polite.  I attended church with him once--HOLY COW!!  The congregation not only stood for most of the service, they swayed and danced during the singing (which was kind of cool--kind of), but all the while the minister was giving his sermon, they talked back to him--they cried out--they acted like they were all on some kind of mind altering drug! Like they were in a trance of ecstasy.  

I kept waiting for snakes to be passed around.  

I was both scared and fascinated.  The man I was with, was a bit more restrained, but I could see, he so wanted to stand up and be right there with them.

Then we went to dinner at his parent's house.  HOLY COW!  Here was a man who spoke perfect English--until he got in the door.  There was jubilant yelling and hugging and all of a sudden,  he started talking just like them.  I could barely understand what they were saying.  Strange inflections in their voices, high screeching laughter.

Don't get me wrong, they were all perfectly lovely and nice to me--so welcoming, but all through dinner, there was so much loud talk and gesticulating and laughing, even a few not so gentle nudges to my arms from either side.  By the time we left, my ears were ringing and I was quite worn out.  Once in the car, he went back to the quiet, reserved, English speaking man I (thought) I knew.
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While my grandmother was in hospital, there was an old black lady across the hall.  Visitors were limited, back in those days, but it did not matter one whit to that black family.  They piled in that room and when their lady passed, HOLY COW!  They moaned, then they yelled and screamed.  Shouts of, "Sweet Jesus, take Momma home with you NOW!"

I got up and shut my Grandma's hospital room door--all the commotion was very upsetting to her (and me.)  When she passed, there was a quiet peace in her room.  The last patting of her hand.  A kiss on her forehead, a tear.  That was it.

So, as I watch the reactions of the people in Ferguson or wherever a bad thing happens to a black person--it doesn't surprise me.  Michael Brown's step-father can one minute yell, "Burn the bitch down," and in the next minute ask for peace and prayers.  It is their way.

When O.J. Simpson was acquitted, I didn't see any whites burning, looting or rioting.  Not the case in this situation.

I saw an interview on TV, in Ferguson.  The site was a car lot where all the cars had been burned.  They interviewed a 65 year old black woman.  She said, "Why burn the cars.  What did the cars have to do with it?"  Young blacks came into the background, yelling with glee and taking pictures on their phones of the burned out cars.

The Asian man whose store Michael Brown stole from and punched out the owner, now stands in the ruins of his looted store--he looks sad, but stoic.

I'm not saying that the white race is all perfect.  Take the Westboro Baptist Church people for example.  Take the Ku Klux Klan for example.

Of course race is involved.  The media makes it that way--the President and his friends, Al Sharpton, Eric Holder, make it that way.  To me, they seem to be the biggest racists in this country.  Oh how I remember Louis Farrakan coming on my college campus, with a bullhorn, extorting the young black women to, "Have those babies.  Have those babies every year!  That is the ONLY way we will evah become the majority!"  HOLY COW!!

But more than that, as I ponder, it just seems to be a cultural thing.  The ancestry we come from.  Perhaps even the climate of the region our people were born and bred in, comes into play.  The hotter the climate they came from, the more emotional and dramatically expressive they seem to be.

God made us all.  He loves us all.  Our blood, bone and sinew are exactly the same.  It must be a cultural thing that makes us appear to be different?

What do you think?
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Well, enough of that pondering, on too more important stuff.

3rd batch of spaghetti sauce done and I see, I will have to make another batch.  I lack about 3 more bags.

After it has simmered and thickened (10 hours), I let it cool and then put four large ladels in each baggie.
I press the air out carefully, hoping I don't shakily push out spaghetti sauce, zip it up and lay them flat in my freezer.

After a couple of days, when they are rock hard, I put two baggies in a gallon bag.  I make Christmasy labels with their names on them, stick the labels on Christmas Eve and take them with me in a large cooler.  I have a small message written to them about their Christmas present that I wrap and put under the tree.  When they open their "present", they know where their present is located.

I set that cooler out on the front porch and as the guys go home, they reach in and get their gallon bag.

Every batch I made always has a bit left over.  That is MY present and a nice spaghetti supper for this weekend.  By the time I eat the left over spaghetti sauce, I don't want anymore for another year!!!  I am getting real sick of the smell of basil, oregano and garlic.

Have a wonderful day tomorrow.  I will be up at my sister's and showing her all the ancestry secrets I found. :-)