Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Arachnophobia
The other night when Kaiya and Mylee had their sleepover, we went out for pizza. While we waited for the pizza to be served, Kaiya had my cell phone and was googling images of various things, primarily insects. At one point she brought up an image of a black widow spider and asked me if I knew what it was. I impressed her heartily by being able to name the displayed critter. I suggested she google tarantula, which she did. She proclaimed that she thought the furry spider was cute and not a bit scary. “I’m not scared of spiders,” she proudly proclaimed. However, when I dropped them off at their house following our Children’s Museum adventure on Wednesday, there were a couple of daddy long legs on the side of the porch, minding their own business. Hysteria from both girls ensued. Such hysteria, in fact, that I was unable to convince them that spiders had a right to live outdoors, and it necessitated my stomping my foot on the side of the house to kill them (the spiders, not the girls). So much for no fear of spiders. While I heartily dislike most insects, spiders don’t particularly bother me. Well, unless they are of the black widow or tarantula variety.

Hello Rex
Since my computer updated its operating system to Windows 10 a while back, I have sort of stumbled around trying to figure out how to do the simplest things. The other night, Kaiya was fooling around a bit on my computer, and I wasn’t paying much attention. Wednesday afternoon when I turned on my computer, instead of finding the expected display background of a photo of my grandkids, there was a huge picture of Bill’s father when he somewhere in the neighborhood of 21 years old staring me in the face. It was one of the photos in the box of old pictures that we recently received, and I had scanned it and it lived somewhere on my computer. It was quite startling, and more so because I had no idea how to get rid of it and put something in its place. Like a picture of the grandkids. It took me a long time to make the change, but I am no longer greeted by a picture of Rex. Handsome as he was, it isn’t what I want to look at each day when I turn on my computer.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
The morning following Kaiya’s and Mylee’s sleepover (which was the same morning that I was awakened by Mylee at 4:45), I was rushing to get them dressed, teeth brushed, etc. at the same time that I was getting ready. We were headed to the Children’s Museum. Sometime during the getting-ready process, Bill mentioned that I had something white on my lip. I quickly forgot that he said anything. Later that day, following the morning at the museum and lunch at Panda Express, I happened to lick my lips. I tasted mint. Apparently I had been running around with a large glob of toothpaste on my lip the entire morning and into the afternoon. Perhaps it would behoove me to actually look in a mirror on occasion. Would it have killed Kaiya to point it out to me? She doesn’t miss anything else!

On the Road Again
We leave tomorrow for a fairly quick trip to Arizona. We usually go in October to open up the house. This year Jen beat us there, and whipped things into shape last week. But it will still be nice to see everyone and get somewhat settled in. We will fly back, leaving our car there so that we don’t have to drive on Christmas day when we will return to Arizona for our 4-month winter stay. My plan is to continue posting each day, but if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry – you will soon!

Ciao.

28Oct2015

Sleepless Night

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

I’m embarrassed to tell you that the past 48 hours have been kind of a blur. No, I’m not embarrassed to tell you this for justifiable reasons such as I’ve been overcome by alcohol. No, the reason my life has been blurry is that two of my grandkids had a sleepover night before last and it took me 24 hours to recover.

For reasons I can’t exactly understand, Kaiya and Mylee love to sleep at our house. I don’t really get it. We do nothing exciting. But the doorbell rings and there are those two girls pulling their little Hello Kitty suitcases full of pajamas, stuffed animals, hair paraphernalia, and the like, with the happiest smiles on their faces. They run up to check out “their rooms” and make sure everything is the way it should be, and before I can say bibbity bobbity boo, one is busily preparing Play Doh food and the other is elbow deep in the Legos container. Life is good.

The biggest reason my life is a blur is that I am unable to sleep when they are guests in my house. I try, but one ear is always listening for a sound from one of the bedrooms. It rarely happens, but I’m ready if it does!

Yesterday morning at 4:45 a.m., heavy breathing awakened me from the sleep that has finally come. I open my eyes, and Mylee’s face is about six inches from mine.

“Nana, my tummy hurts and if I don’t drink some ginger ale right away, I will throw up,” she solemnly greets me.

Here’s the thing. I have emetophobia. It’s a thing, I promise. A phobia of vomiting, and I have it. I always have. God blessed me because my son Court only rarely threw up when he was growing up, and then he ALWAYS made it to the bathroom in time. I feel compelled to say that I have heard his stepmother talk about Court throwing up all the time, so I think it was simply a case of good luck and good planning. It’s okay though, because she doesn’t have emetophobia.

So I shot up like a rocket and headed her towards the bathroom.

“No Nana,” she said. “I just need some ginger ale.”

It’s 4:50 a.m., and there isn’t a ginger ale within a five mile radius. But by this time I had figured out that she wasn’t actually going to throw up (Court had warned me she had thrown up the night before), but that she had simply awakened early and wanted some ginger ale. And some company. She got company and a Coke Zero.

It is the girls’ Fall Break, so I took them to the Children’s Museum as a treat yesterday morning. Kaiya had a grand time. Mylee began pooping out about 11:30, because see above. A 4:50 a.m. rising time isn’t conducive to Children’s Museum fun-and-games. After lunching at Panda Express, I took chipper Kaiya and increasingly cranky Mylee home. A tired-looking mommy answered the door.

“Shhhh,” she said, holding her fingers to her lips. “Your baby brother just went down for his nap. He threw up all over me.”

Did I mention I have emetophobia? And now I know that Mylee throwing up the other night wasn’t just a random thing, but the beginning of an EPIDEMIC.

I have only gone through two cans of Lysol spray thus far. My house smells like a hospital ward.

27Oct2015

Hey Vinnie, Where’s the Beef?

Posted in Main Course, Meat Dishes, Recipes, Whimsies by kzmclain

When I actually worked for a living, I had the opportunity to eat at a lot of really nice restaurants all around the United States. You know, the restaurants where you are served a tiny piece of Mozambique tilapia with stewed raspberries and capers drizzled with Sicilian olive oil on an oversized, square white plate, costing somewhere in the neighborhood of $50, salad not included. For the most part, those meals were delicious and I was able to try a lot of foods I wouldn’t have been able to try otherwise. I am grateful to have had that opportunity.

But for the most part, I am a simple eater. And thankfully, so is my husband. When I told Bill I would take him anywhere he would like for his birthday dinner, he chose a place famous for its fried chicken. And as I go through my recipe files – those on Pinterest and those in my recipe box – the fanciest recipe I have is Coq au Vin. And I haven’t made that for years.

Bill grew up in Chicago – the food capital of the United States in my opinion. If you go downtown, there are innumerable fancy restaurants, similar to those I enjoyed earlier in my life. But the restaurants that Bill enjoyed were not really restaurants at all. They were food joints on the South Side of Chicago. Hot dog stands. Gyros places. Pizza parlours. If he was feeling really fancy, he might go to a locally-owned steak house where they still have red leather booths and serve a relish tray before bringing your salad made out of crisp iceberg lettuce and carrots.

And when we go to Chicago to visit his mother, those are the places we dine. I have mentioned before that Bill’s favorite food is pizza, and his favorite pizza joint is Fox’s, a chain of four or five restaurants on the south side of Chicago. The pizza is thin crust, and he always orders pizza with sausage. Yum…..

We were thrilled a couple of years ago when one of Bill’s favorite Chicago joints opened up a restaurant in Mesa, right down the street from where the Chicago Cubs play spring baseball. Why not? The place is always busy when we are there, and we go quite often.

Portillo’s has all of your Chicago favorites – hot dogs, gyros, tamales, hamburgers. But his (and increasingly my) favorite is their Italian Beef sandwich. Italian beef is slow cooked roast beef sliced very thin, served on a roll that is drenched in the “gravy.” It is served with either sweet or hot peppers. Sweet peppers are simply roasted green peppers and hot peppers are similar to giardiniera – a mixture of spicy pickled vegetables. Again, yum.

Recently he was hankering for an Italian beef sandwich, and it wasn’t handy to make a quick trip to either Chicago or Arizona. So I tried my hand at it, and found a Portillo’s copycat recipe for Italian beef. I’m no expert on whether or not it rivaled Portillo’s but I will tell you it was good, and satisfied my sandwich loving husband. And best yet, it cooked in a crock pot!

Soon we will be eating the genuine article in Mesa. But here’s something to enjoy in the meantime….

Portillo’s Italian Beef Sandwich, adapted from Food.com

Ingredients
1 t. salt
1 t. ground black pepper
a t. dried oregano
1 t. dried basil
1 t. onion salt
3 c. water
1 t. dried parsley
1 t. garlic powder
1 bay leaf
1 (2/3 OZ) package Italian salad dressing mix
5 lb. rump roast

Process
In a medium saucepan over medium high heat, combine the water, salt, pepper, oregano, basil, onion salt, parsley, garlic powder, bay leaf and salad dressing mix. Stir well and bring just to a boil.

Place roast in a slow cooker and pour mixture over the roast. Cover and cook on low setting for 10 to 12 hours OR high setting for 4 to 5 hours. Remove bay leaf and shred meat with a fork. Serve on hard rolls.

Nana’s Notes: Genuine Chicago Italian beef sandwiches are made on a certain kind of bread that’s not available here. I used French hard rolls and it was delicious. Also, the genuine article uses roast beef that is sliced VERY THIN. Since I don’t have a meat slicer, I shredded the meat and it worked great. Chicago, don’t hate me. Finally, the test of a true Italian beef sandwich is that it is so sloppy that you have to lean over your plate to eat it. It might be hard to tell from the photo, but this one definitely was.

26Oct2015

Are You Sure? I’m Positive!

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

You’ve got to accentuate the positive
Eliminate the negative
Latch on to the affirmative
But don’t mess with Mister In Between. – Johnny Mercer, Harold Arlen

The other day I was talking on the telephone with my brother, and we got on the subject of the power of positive thinking. We both agreed that thinking positively can have a tremendous impact on one’s life, and even on one’s health. My brother told me that Bill is his model for thinking positively. Despite the fact that the world dealt Bill a hand that included Parkinson’s disease, Dave said in the morning when he’s praying for all of the people he knows who are sick, he has to remind himself to include Bill in his prayers.

“Bill is so upbeat all of the time that I forget that he’s got Parkinson’s,” Dave said.

Bill is, indeed, one of the most positive thinking people I know. And that poor man married me, Ms. Glass-Half-Empty. Oh, I’m not the world’s most negative person, but I do tend to go to the worst case scenario if I have half a chance. Not Bill. He is always, ALWAYS certain that things are going to turn out okay. And what do you know? They almost always do.

St. Mark’s gospel on Sunday was about the blind man who asked Jesus to make him see, never doubting for a moment that Jesus would let him down. And, of course, Jesus told him his faith had saved him and gave him sight.

Interestingly, Father Larry’s homily wasn’t about faith, but instead, was about forgiveness. He mentioned the church shooting that took place in Charleston, SC, in June of this year. Nine people in all lost their lives in that shooting at the Emanuel AME church, all African Americans. I remembered the shooting, but what I didn’t know is that the families of the victims all chose to forgive the shooter rather than becoming embroiled in hatred. Wow. That is amazing. I told Bill after church that I’m not sure I could forgive someone who killed a loved one.

Forgiveness is difficult, but if one is committed to thinking positively, forgiveness simply MUST be part of that package. If one is embroiled in hatred, positive thinking is out of reach.

Of course, as I thought about positive thinking, I thought about the song with the lyrics above. That song was written in 1944, not long after the Great Depression and at the height of World War II. Imagine encouraging people to ac-cen-tu-ate the positive and e-lim-i-nate the negative when you are surrounded by the violence of war. Apparently it was modeled after a consistent theme that Baptist ministers had long used. In fact, that’s where Johnny Mercer got the idea for the song. He heard a sermon by an African American Baptist minister in which the minister said ‘you got to accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative.’ Sound familiar?

As an aside, every time I hear that song I think about a television show in the early 1990s called Homefront. The show took place during and immediately following World War II, and its theme song was Accentuate the Positive. I loved the television show, and wish like crazy that I could find it somewhere. It’s where I learned the words to the song, which now are using up brain cells along with the words of every song ever written in the 60s and 70s.

Maybe if I think positively, I will find a copy of the DVD…..

This post linked to the GRAND Social

24Oct2015

Saturday Smile: Say It With Flowers

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

The other day, Bill surprised me with a really pretty bouquet of flowers. There was no special occasion; he just saw them, thought they were pretty, and thought about me. Very sweet.

But it made me think about a funny true story.

When Bill first asked me on an official date (we had long been friends), I said no thank you. He asked me again a short time later, and my answer was the same. Finally he told me that he was going to send me a bouquet of flowers every day until I agreed to go on a date with him.

Of course you are, I thought cynically, not believing a word.

Until the next day when a beautiful bouquet of flowers was delivered to my office. And then the next day, another arrived. They kept coming, day after day. Sometime around mid-morning I would get a phone call from the receptionist.

“Your flowers have arrived,” she would cheerfully tell me.

My office started looking and smelling like a funeral parlor. I had roses, tulips, spring bouquets, flowering plants; you name it, I had it. In those days I shared an office with my boss, and every day he would beg me, “Please, Kristine, tell him you will go out with him. We’re running out of room.”

Finally, a full two weeks later, I called him and told him I would go out on a date with him. And the rest is history….

Have a great weekend.

23Oct2015

Friday Book Whimsy: The Rent Collector

Posted in Book Reviews, Whimsies by kzmclain

I was initially interested in reading The Rent Collector, by Camron Wright, because the story takes place in Cambodia. One of my daughters-in-law is Cambodian (born there and moved to the United States with her mother, father, and baby brother when she was a toddler during the latter days of the horrible-beyond-belief Khmer Rouge). I shamefully know very little about this dark time in world history.

The Rent Collector takes place in contemporary times, but as you would imagine, the story of the Khmer Rouge plays an important role. I didn’t quite know what to expect. I have been unable to make myself watch the movie The Killing Fields because it would break my heart. I was fearful The Rent Collector would do the same. What I found, instead, was a beautiful and poignant story about an unforgettable family who, despite what would seem to us to be nearly unbearable living conditions, finds joy in almost everything.

Sang Ly lives with her husband Ki Lim and their baby boy, Nisay in Stung Meanchey, Cambodia’s largest municipal waste dump. Not only is this their home (along with a surprisingly large community of people), but they make their living from “picking,” that is, going through the dump site daily to find things to sell. While they are totally aware of the horror of their living conditions, they are surprisingly happy. Sang Ly and her husband are in love, and Nisay is the most important person in their life together. In fact, much of the book centers on the two trying to find a cure for Nisay’s constant diarrhea and inability to eat.

As the story begins, it seems as though the book’s villain is going to be the rent collector – a woman called Sopeap Sin. Her job is to collect the monthly rent from the people living in Stung Meanchey, and she initially seems mean, cold-hearted, and vindictive. Through a set of circumstances, Sang Ly learns that Sopeap Sin was a teacher in her earlier life and she begs Sopeap Sin to teach her to read. Sopeap Sin reluctantly agrees, and a remarkable friendship is formed.

The ability to read changes Sang Ly’s life in many ways, and witnessing those changes is absolute joy for the reader. Things don’t go smoothly much of the time, but Sang Ly’s and Ki Lim’s optimistic attitude and refusal to give up makes for indescribably satisfying reading. The Rent Collector is a beautiful story, plain and simple, and Camron Wright is an amazing writer. This is a book I will long remember, and Sang Ly, Ki Lim, and Sopeap Sin are characters I will not soon forget.

By the way, though The Rent Collector is a novel, it is based on a true story, and the book actually shows pictures of the real-life Sang Ly and Ki Lim and their most disturbing home.

I strongly, strongly urge book clubs to consider this novel for discussion.

Here is a link to the book.

22Oct2015

Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

We Are Part of the…
You know how songs get stuck in your head? Sometimes I don’t even know why I inexplicably find myself singing a particular song. That happened to me recently. I can’t remember the song, but it was something random. Maybe Who Are You? Anyway, that night I was watching television – probably a football game – and a commercial came on that played the song. I have no memory of having seen that commercial previously, but I have no doubt that’s why the song was in my mind. Well, the song that is currently (and unfortunately) stuck in my mind is Rhythm Nation. Monday night on Dancing With the Stars, the theme was “famous dances.” Tamar Braxton’s performance was to that very tune. The biggest reason I say it is unfortunate is because the only words I can remember are we are part of the rhythm nation, and so that is what I sing over and over. Here is a link to Janet Jackson’s video so that it can be stuck in your head too.

Ouch

No body fat….

The other day we stopped by the McLains to pick up something Dave had brought from the office for Bill. We were enthusiastically greeted by the grandkids. Except for Dagny, who, while she came to say hello, had a sad look on her face. I asked her why the sad face. “I got my flu shot today and it REALLY HURTS.” Let me tell you that Dagny is not a baby about pain. She is tough. I have seen her fall from a tree and get the wind knocked out of her and get back up to play. But she was feeling punk that night. Her side of the story is that the person giving the shot stuck the needle into her and then wiggled it around A LOT. Presuming that is not actually true, the only thing I can figure is that since she has no body fat, it must hurt more. Bill and I, on the other hand, got our shots yesterday and what do you know? It doesn’t hurt. No needle wiggling; lots of body fat.

I’d Do Anything For You Dear
Speaking of flu shots, Bill and I had lunch yesterday with two very good friends, one who was my boss for 15 years. Every year when I would mention that I was getting my flu shot, he would scoff at the notion. “I never get a flu shot, and I never get the flu,” he would tell me. I never argued, because it would have been pointless. And it was true that he was never sick. But when I mentioned that I was going to get a flu shot following lunch, he sheepishly admitted that he had just gotten his very first flu shot. It turns out that for reasons having to do with construction on his house, he is living for a bit with his daughter, son-in-law, and 7-month-old grandson. His daughter informed him that because he is living with the baby, HE WILL GET A FLU SHOT. The thing is, he did it quite willingly. “It was the right thing to do, you know, for the baby,” he told me. I’m telling you, the things we’ll do for our grandkids…..

It’s Beginning to Feel Like Winter
The temperature didn’t get above 48 degrees yesterday, the first really chilly day we’ve had thus far. I turned on my heat for the first time this year. We have had an unseasonably warm fall. I’m grateful that it didn’t get cold enough to snow, but rain began sometime in the night, and it fell most of the day yesterday. It was gray and dreary. I spent much of the day under a blanket, reading. Lovely.

They’re Very Photogenic
We are still going through boxes and boxes of photos. Here is one that makes me laugh each time I look at it…..

Doesn’t it have a Night of the Living Deadness to it? I just can’t figure it out. Maybe they were all working in the yard and someone yelled, “Turn around because I’m going to take a picture.” Maybe they were playing freeze tag. Any thoughts?

Craft Time
Sunday afternoon, about the time that I no longer knew how to keep the grandkids entertained, Jll showed up with a craft project. The project consisted of tiny pumpkins, paint, various decorative elements, and a glue gun. They all went to work…

At least they don’t resemble a remake of Night of the Living Dead.

Ciao!

21Oct2015

Christmas in October

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

I learned early on in my professional career that any time you are unable to be at a meeting, you better brace yourself to be named to something like the Third Floor Ladies’ Restroom Decorating Committee. The same, of course, holds true for being absent from a PTO meeting, as you will undoubtedly be put down for healthy snacks for your little darling’s third grade monthly birthday celebration.

Never miss a meeting.

Bill and I were not present when his brother and sister – Bruce and Kathy – packed up their mom’s two-bedroom apartment a couple of weeks ago as Wilma made her move to a considerably smaller assisted living unit. Friends, Wilma had LOTS OF THINGS. Pretty things. And two-thirds of those pretty things were not going to be able to fit into her new digs.

Bruce asked all of his siblings to tell him specifically what, if anything, they wanted. But at the end of the day, we are going to get what we get. The other day Bruce informed us that a truck was coming our way carrying Wilma’s beautiful living room furniture (which we had agreed to take). But it was with somewhat diabolical amusement that he added, “You weren’t here to defend yourself, so you might have a few surprises in store for you.” Boom. We missed the meeting.

Here’s what our living room looked like yesterday morning prior to the delivery…..

Here’s shortly after delivery…..

And here’s as we began to unpack…..

Since our hearts overflow with gratitude to Bruce and Kathy for all the work they did in a short period of time, far be it from me to complain ONE LITTLE BIT. And, in fact, as we opened the boxes, other than the headache that came creeping forth as I inhaled dust from photos that hadn’t been out of their little box/home for 30 years, I have nothing about which to complain. I have plenty of Ibuprofen. And plenty of photos of people I don’t know. Like this…..

But photos I am delighted to have, like Wilma and Rex’s wedding photo….

We also asked for – and received – a complete bedroom set, including bed frame and a matching chest of drawers and a bureau. Here’s the clincher: The furniture was Bill’s when he was a boy growing up on the south side of Chicago. That means the furniture is somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 years old. Aside from a few nicks, the furniture could have been bought yesterday. Rex and Wilma’s philosophy was two-fold: buy good stuff (much of it was built in North Carolina) and pay cash for it. Well, there was apparently a third rule: No 10-year-olds can mark up the furniture! I can’t believe my grandkids will be sleeping in the same bed that their papa did as a child. Well, new mattress.

As we continue to unpack, I will keep you informed if we find anything of interest. Like Jimmy Hoffa’s body.

20Oct2015

Keeping Score

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

They should make a law against 11 o’clock morning NFL football games. – President Rutherford B. Hayes

Lemonade Lucy

I will come clean right off the bat. President Rutherford B. Hayes didn’t actually say those words. I can’t confirm that he actually said any words. Have you ever heard any famous and meaningful quotes from Rutherford B. Hayes? I suspect he had some words with his mother regarding her name selection of Rutherford. And I’m certain he had a few choice words for his wife Lucy, who was referred to as “Lemonade Lucy” because she wouldn’t allow alcohol in the White House. “Lucy, how am I supposed to watch a Redskins game without a pint in my hand?” he might have said.

I’m actually the one to whom the above quote should be attributed. Because seriously? An 11 o’clock game on Sunday morning? And that would be 10 o’clock in the morning in California and Arizona. Heavens to Betsy. One still has sleep crust in the corner of one’s eyes.

Truth be told, I was wide awake at 11 o’clock Sunday morning when the Broncos began playing football against the Cleveland Browns. I just wasn’t sitting in front of my television. Instead, I was sitting at Wellshire Presbyterian Church watching Alastair, Dagny, and Maggie Faith – along with several other children — sing an African hymn to the congregation. Off to the side, Adelaide played the glockenspiel as accompaniment, and quite well. She’s a young woman of many talents, glockenspiel-playing being only one.

I was foresighted enough, however, to set our DVR to record the game so that I could watch it when we got home from church. In fact, I invited Court and his kids to come over to watch the delayed viewing of the game. Court is used to watching recordings of the Broncos since he usually has parent-of-young-children type duties every weekend. He will generally text me something like I am not watching the game live so I will watch the recorded game later. If you text me one thing about the game, I will come over to your house and personally place a flock of plastic flamingos in your front yard. I keep my mouth shut.

But that was the thing. Just as soon as the minister said amen, Bill was out of the church with his cell phone turned on and was determining the status of the game. “Oh my gosh,” he said. “The score is….. .”

“STOP,” I yelled, making the 12 or so senior citizens (who were the only ones besides us in church as the other Presbyterians were at home watching the Broncos game) look up from their walkers. “I don’t want to know the score because I’m going home to watch the game.”

Bill has lots of wonderful traits. Keeping a secret such as the score of the game is not particularly one of them. Still, he did a pretty good job. The trouble was, Alastair was with us, and he asked his papa to show him the score.

“Don’t you dare,” I said to Alastair, just as he opened up his mouth to spill the beans. “I mean it. Don’t you even think about it.”

Well, he could think about nothing else, really.

“The score is an even number to an odd number,” he couldn’t help but tell me. And Ladies and Gentlemen, it took EVERY FIBER OF HIS BEING to keep himself from telling me who was ahead.

But I will tell you a secret. I sometimes read the ending of a book first. And apparently to me, watching football is the same thing. So, while Court was in one room watching the recorded game, I secretly went into the kitchen and watched the end of the game live. I justified it by telling myself that I would enjoy the game so much more if I knew we had won.

Of course, Peyton was being Peyton, so it was a nerve wracking experience to say the least. And seriously, has anyone mentioned to Demaryius Thomas that he’s a wide receiver and is, by definition, supposed to receive the ball and keep it? And maybe even run while carrying it? Sunday I’m not even sure he could have caught the downtown bus. Sorry. I just had to get that off my chest. I am very happy to be 6 and 0, even if our strong safety has scored more points than our highly-paid wide receiver. As far as I’m concerned, a TD is a TD.

Anyhoo, by this time, Court had figured out that I was watching the game live in the kitchen. He had likely also figured out that the game was in overtime because I was in there a long time. I could only pretend to be preparing baked beans for so long. Besides, as hard as I tried, I was unable to prevent myself from letting out mewling sounds when balls were dropped or interceptions were thrown. “I can hear you in there Mom, and I know what you’re doing.”

At the end of it all, the Broncos had another mark on the win side of the scorecard, and Court forgave me for my indiscretions.

Serving a platter of barbecued ribs for Bill’s birthday dinner helped. Take a look at this satisfied group….

McLains and Zierks gathered to celebrate Bill’s birthday by eating barbecued ribs! Alyx is present, but taking the photo. And by the way, see the enormous platter of ribs? All gone by the end of the meal.

19Oct2015

Silver Threads

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Love can never more grow old,
Locks may lose their brown and gold;
Cheeks may fade and hollow grow,
But the hearts that love will know,
Never, never winter’s frost and chill;
Summer warmth is in them still. – Eben E. Rexford

The words above are from an old song that was popular in the late 19^th century called Silver Threads Among the Gold. For some reason, I remembered the words to that song and I assure you I was not alive in the late 19^th Century (though I’m sure my grandkids think I was). I’m telling you, I am using up valuable brain cells storing this type of useless information.

They don’t write songs like this anymore. Instead, you have classics such as I Can’t Feel My Face. My other thought as I read the lyrics was that you don’t run across many young boys being named Eben these days. Trevor, yes. Eben, no.

Aging is an interesting phenomenon. Someone hit the nail on the head when they said Old age is always 10 years older than I am. I should attribute that quote to someone; however, the internet attributes it to three or four different people. I couldn’t figure it out, so I will simply put it out there. Because, Friends, isn’t it all too true? When you’re 8 years old, don’t you wish you could be grown-up like your 18-year-old sister, who you consider OLD. And it’s certainly true when you are in your 20s, 30s, and even older.

Bill and I began talking about this notion the other day. We figured out that when he and I got married, his mother was about the same age as he is now. A woman of some years. And Bill is, well, positively youthful!

My sister Bec was talking with her son Erik one day not long ago. In the course of their conversation, she mentioned that our mother was so young when she died. Erik asked her how old his nana was when she passed away. Sixty-eight years old, Bec responded. Erik’s reply? “I don’t think that’s that young.” Bec – uncharacteristically almost speechless — said, “You do understand, Son, that I am 65 years old.” Ah. There’s that.

All this is to say that today is Bill’s birthday, and he is 73 years young today. The year Bill was born, the movie Casablanca was released. Gasoline was 15 cents a gallon. A house cost in the neighborhood of $3,700, which was a lot considering the average worker earned a little over $1,800 per year.

Bill has had a lot thrown at him in his life. Do you know how he would respond to that statement? “Who hasn’t?” He handles life with grace and dignity, which helps keep him young. He is one of the funniest people I know, and you know what they say about laughter and medicine. He is living proof. One of the greatest tributes to this astounding man is that my brother says he has fully admired two men in his life – our dad and Bill. I agree.

So, happy birthday to my husband, and I am sure in 15 years when I am writing my – well, whatever will have taken the place of the blog – he will still be young.

Nana's Whimsies

Musings of a Baby Boomer….

Author Archives: kzmclain

Thursday Thoughts

Sleepless Night

Hey Vinnie, Where’s the Beef?

Are You Sure? I’m Positive!

Saturday Smile: Say It With Flowers

Friday Book Whimsy: The Rent Collector

Thursday Thoughts

Christmas in October

Keeping Score

Silver Threads