Kate Collins's Blog, page 11
April 5, 2020
ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT?
By Mary Kennedy
I'm tackling a serious topic today. (I promise I'll go back to funny anecdotes next week.)
In the immortal words of Elvis Presley, "Are you lonesome tonight?" The "new normal" of social distancing and forced isolation brings home the fact that many of us are desperately lonesome. As social creatures. we're bound to be lonely when deprived of human companionship. That's a given. As the theme song to Cheers reminds us, we long for "a place where everyone knows your name."
Living alone is a relatively new phenomenon. More than one in four people live alone in our country, yet in the early 1900's, only five percent of people lived alone. Why was that? Well, it was a different time. The nuclear family didn't exist as we know it; most families were multi-generational. You didn't have to worry about being alone when you shared meals and living space with your relatives plus probably some young children in the mix. Life may have been noisy and hectic, but it wasn't lonely. I'm pretty sure that our grandparents weren't lonely. (They may have longed for their own bathroom, but they weren't lonely!)
Doctors at UCLA devised a "loneliness scale." Would you say yes to these statements?
I have nobody to talk to.
I cannot tolerate being so alone.
I am unhappy doing things alone.
I feel isolated from others.
As a psychologist, I know that many of my patients experience anxiety and even panic when they suddenly find their lives uprooted and become "singletons." Solitude and seclusion can be joyous, but loneliness is a state of emotional distress.
The flight or fight syndrome is common with loneliness. More common than you may think. From an evolutionary point of view, being alone is associated with danger and unknown threats. Think about it. Would you rather fight an enemy alone, or in a group? Separation anxiety is real and can occur at any age.
Theresa May created the first "Director of Loneliness" post in the UK, declaring loneliness to be a serious health problem. GP's (primary care practitioners) will be able to direct lonely patients to social activities and welcoming groups.
So, if you're feeling "lonesome tonight" as Elvis sang, how can you tackle the problem?
*Get a pet. Either adopt or foster. Animal shelters are in dire shape even in the best of times and the virus has hit them hard.
*Reach out to someone else who may be lonely.
*Keep up your connections as best you can with Facetime, Skype, texting and social media.
*Stay engaged with life, whether it's long walks, a great book or a hobby you've always wanted to try. Binge-watching TV isn't a panacea.
Wishing you the best during these trying times!
Mary Kennedy
I'm tackling a serious topic today. (I promise I'll go back to funny anecdotes next week.)
In the immortal words of Elvis Presley, "Are you lonesome tonight?" The "new normal" of social distancing and forced isolation brings home the fact that many of us are desperately lonesome. As social creatures. we're bound to be lonely when deprived of human companionship. That's a given. As the theme song to Cheers reminds us, we long for "a place where everyone knows your name."
Living alone is a relatively new phenomenon. More than one in four people live alone in our country, yet in the early 1900's, only five percent of people lived alone. Why was that? Well, it was a different time. The nuclear family didn't exist as we know it; most families were multi-generational. You didn't have to worry about being alone when you shared meals and living space with your relatives plus probably some young children in the mix. Life may have been noisy and hectic, but it wasn't lonely. I'm pretty sure that our grandparents weren't lonely. (They may have longed for their own bathroom, but they weren't lonely!)
Doctors at UCLA devised a "loneliness scale." Would you say yes to these statements?
I have nobody to talk to.
I cannot tolerate being so alone.
I am unhappy doing things alone.
I feel isolated from others.
As a psychologist, I know that many of my patients experience anxiety and even panic when they suddenly find their lives uprooted and become "singletons." Solitude and seclusion can be joyous, but loneliness is a state of emotional distress.
The flight or fight syndrome is common with loneliness. More common than you may think. From an evolutionary point of view, being alone is associated with danger and unknown threats. Think about it. Would you rather fight an enemy alone, or in a group? Separation anxiety is real and can occur at any age.
Theresa May created the first "Director of Loneliness" post in the UK, declaring loneliness to be a serious health problem. GP's (primary care practitioners) will be able to direct lonely patients to social activities and welcoming groups.
So, if you're feeling "lonesome tonight" as Elvis sang, how can you tackle the problem?
*Get a pet. Either adopt or foster. Animal shelters are in dire shape even in the best of times and the virus has hit them hard.
*Reach out to someone else who may be lonely.
*Keep up your connections as best you can with Facetime, Skype, texting and social media.
*Stay engaged with life, whether it's long walks, a great book or a hobby you've always wanted to try. Binge-watching TV isn't a panacea.
Wishing you the best during these trying times!
Mary Kennedy
April 3, 2020
Out in the yard
by Lorraine Bartlett / Lorna Barrett / L.L. Bartlett
Like most everyone else, we are in self-isolation. I feel so bad for the people in large cities because they're stuck in apartments. I live in suburbia. I have a backyard. It finally got warm enough for me to go outside and play in the yard.
By play, I mean work on the garden.
I don't have a great garden. I have perennials that surround our in-ground pool. (We are not pool people. It came with the house. It's there, it costs more to get rid of it than maintain it, it's staying.) Around here, we wait until Memorial Day to plant annuals. Let's hope by then the worst of this situation is over.
Unfortunately, by the time it got warm enough to go outside, most of my perennials were in the shade where it was too cold to work, so I cut back the rose that was in the sun. Usually I wait until the forsythia blooms to prune the roses, but they are already sprouting leaves, so I figured it was okay to start the job.
While I was out, I also decided to plant my snap peas. They like cooler weather, and hopefully they will grow. I only planted a small area as the package advises planting them every ten days so that you don't get inundated with snap peas all at once. Works for me! If I had some potting soil, I'd start some other plants inside (although my record of transplanting hasn't been all that successful in the past).
I have a LOT of hosta plants, and they got away with me last fall. That is their leaves dropped and I didn't pick them up before the snow fell--and it was early. We had more snow in November and December than we had the rest of the winter. (80 inches--50 of which fell in Nov. & Dec.) If you don't get the hosta leaves up before it gets too warm, they get moldy and disgusting. If it's sunny today, the 10 or so on the north side of my backyard will get taken care of. : )
We also drained the foot or more of water (mix of melted snow and rain) from the top of the pool cover. Now it's time to remove the leaves that are stuck to the cover. If it doesn't rain for a week or so, it's a lot easier, because they dry out and don't weigh a ton. (Water is heavy!)
It's all a lot of work, but I found myself singing while I did it. I was enjoying it. I was outside in the sunshine for more than an hour before I felt guilty for walking away from my rewrite. But if it's sunny again today, I think I'll play hooky for a little while longer.
What are you doing to fill your suddenly very long days?
Like most everyone else, we are in self-isolation. I feel so bad for the people in large cities because they're stuck in apartments. I live in suburbia. I have a backyard. It finally got warm enough for me to go outside and play in the yard.
By play, I mean work on the garden.
I don't have a great garden. I have perennials that surround our in-ground pool. (We are not pool people. It came with the house. It's there, it costs more to get rid of it than maintain it, it's staying.) Around here, we wait until Memorial Day to plant annuals. Let's hope by then the worst of this situation is over.
Unfortunately, by the time it got warm enough to go outside, most of my perennials were in the shade where it was too cold to work, so I cut back the rose that was in the sun. Usually I wait until the forsythia blooms to prune the roses, but they are already sprouting leaves, so I figured it was okay to start the job.While I was out, I also decided to plant my snap peas. They like cooler weather, and hopefully they will grow. I only planted a small area as the package advises planting them every ten days so that you don't get inundated with snap peas all at once. Works for me! If I had some potting soil, I'd start some other plants inside (although my record of transplanting hasn't been all that successful in the past).
I have a LOT of hosta plants, and they got away with me last fall. That is their leaves dropped and I didn't pick them up before the snow fell--and it was early. We had more snow in November and December than we had the rest of the winter. (80 inches--50 of which fell in Nov. & Dec.) If you don't get the hosta leaves up before it gets too warm, they get moldy and disgusting. If it's sunny today, the 10 or so on the north side of my backyard will get taken care of. : )We also drained the foot or more of water (mix of melted snow and rain) from the top of the pool cover. Now it's time to remove the leaves that are stuck to the cover. If it doesn't rain for a week or so, it's a lot easier, because they dry out and don't weigh a ton. (Water is heavy!)
It's all a lot of work, but I found myself singing while I did it. I was enjoying it. I was outside in the sunshine for more than an hour before I felt guilty for walking away from my rewrite. But if it's sunny again today, I think I'll play hooky for a little while longer.
What are you doing to fill your suddenly very long days?
April 1, 2020
When The Red, Red Robin Isn't Bobbin'
A while back, I went outside to find a robin trying to escape the cats. I shooed them away but
saw that the robin had an injured wing. I called for my daughter to come help me and to bring a box. It's at this point in my narrative I feel the need to tell you that I'm wary of birds. The bigger the bird, the greater my fear.
An aside: Biltmore offers guests the chance to discover the ancient art of falconry. You can learn how to handle a trained hawk or falcon and have it land on your gloved hand for $125 plus tax. I would be more inclined to pay them to not have a hawk or falcon get that close to me.
Now back to the story we go. We had a box, I had gloves--not gardening gloves, but cloth gloves--and we had compassion. Dear Reader, it was not enough. Fear of further hurting the bird or being flogged kept us participating in the most frustrating slow-speed chase since O. J. in the white Bronco.
Bird: Hop, hop. Us (bent low to the ground): Shuffle, shuffle.Bird: Hop Us: Shuffle... grab? Bird: Flutter! Hop, hop, hop. Us: "We're trying to help you. Get in this box, and we'll take you to the vet!" Bird: "No' You're insane!" Hop, hop, hop quicker. Hide under the car. "You can't get me now, suckers!"
Long story short (too late, I know), we finally coaxed, chased, and/or otherwise convinced the bird to hide under a prickly bush in our front yard. Cats: "Thank goodness you have that endless supply of cat food and treats in the house because you'd starve to death if you had to catch your own food."
Fast forward at least a month. I was walking Cooper when he poked his nose behind a lawnmower attachment and then jerked back. Something was there! Was it a snake? Had it bitten him?
I cautiously moved to where I could see the "thing." It was the bird! The bird! I know because we recognized each other. We looked each other in the eye and knew.
I gasped, so happy to see that Bird had made it.
I took Cooper inside and came back out to give the cats treats so they wouldn't be too inquisitive.
Had Bird been living under our back deck this entire time? I considered taking Bird some food but reasoned it had been doing fine on its own and that I should leave it alone so it could escape the cats' notice.
Later, I heard a truck outside and then Alexa's notification light came on, alerting me to the fact that a package had arrived. Not realizing the notification was for my dad's birthday gifts that he'd received hours ago, I went to the front porch to see if there was a package.
There was not. But there was Bird about to be attacked by Willow, the cat who loves Cooper and ran away from her home to live here with him.
I shouted, "No!" and shooed her away.
Then I opened the door and called for Tim to come watch over Bird while I got a box.
Tim used to say things like "Leave it alone. Let nature take its course." Now he knows better. Everyone will be happier if I try to save whatever nature is trying to take its course on.
He stood guard while I got a box.
Hurrying outside with the box, I said, "Okay, put the bird in the box."
He would try to coax Bird into the box but was no more willing to pick up Bird than I was.
"What are you going to do with it if you get it into the box?" he asked.
"I'll go to PetSmart and get bird food."
So, with Tim in the role formerly played by our daughter, we did the hop, hop, shuffle dance across our yard. And guess what? Bird flew! But only for a few feet. That's when Babby cat (Sir Babby of Holbrook) leapt forward.
"No!" I cried.
He backed away with a look of total disdain. "I was only trying to help. You are the worst hunter any of us have ever seen, and we know that old deaf and blind cat from next door."
By now, it was raining as we did the hop, hop, shuffle into the neighbors' yard. Bird got under a pretty little tree that was starting to bud. We couldn't reach it and decided that if we went ahead and fed the cats, they'd be too distracted and full to concern themselves with Bird.
Later, Tim took Cooper for his after-dinner walk. "Did you see it?" I asked Tim when they came back inside.
"Yeah. It's fine. It's in [another neighbors'] yard now."
And what is the moral of this story? I'm going with "His eye is on the Sparrow, and He watches robins pretty closely too."
Dead Man Walker...something different
Hi, all. Duffy Brown here.
Dead Man Walker
is the fourth book in my Consignment shop series…and it’s only available as an eRead. I know many of you aren’t into the eRead thing so there is a free app from Amazon that lets you download it. Blah!You say. I hate reading online worse of all but here’s the thing, Dead Man Walker is a novella. So why bother with a novella? Here’s why, it’s from Walker Boone’s point of view, meaning he’s telling the story. If you like our hunky badboy/goodguy hero Walker Boone you will really enjoy Dead Man Walker. The book starts off…“See, there he is, Mr. Boone,” Mercedes said to me. “Just like I told you on the phone, Conway Adkins dead as a fence post in his very own claw-foot bathtub and naked as the day he was born.” “I take you added the washcloth?” I said to Mercedes, both of us standing in the doorway and staring at the corpse.“Couldn’t be having the man laying there with his shrivelness all exposed to the world now could I. Not proper for a man his age.” “Or for the rest of us,” I added.
A guy’s point of view, especially a hunky dude like Walker Boone is way different than writing in the female point of view. Guys don’t think about the color of their purse. They don’t do lunch or get over a problem with retail therapy...namely shopping for shoes. They don’t go out for ice cream when they’re down, they don’t mainline chocolate or eat peanut butter out of the jar...not that I would ever do such a thing.
Guys meet with their buds at the local watering hole and down a few or maybe they shoot pool or shoot hoops. Or they get bar grub or ribs or wings. Wings are always a guy pleaser.
I love guy friendships. Sherlock and Watson, Chandler and Joey on Friends, Fred Flinstone and Barney Rubble, Bert and Ernie, Batman and Robin…you get the picture.
Walker has Big Joey...
“Dawg,” Big Joey said to me as I slip onto a stool next to his, everyone in the place giving Joey space. “Know you’d show.” Big Joey was built like a Mac truck, muscles buffed to jet black, gold tooth, pony tail and main man of the Seventeenth Street gang...my former home and forever family. He was my brother in every sense of the word except parental commonality.
Of course Walker Boone has other friendships, girl friendships like with Reagan. The two started off rocky in that Walker represented Reagan’s ex in her divorce but in solving mysteries they kept tripping over each other. At the end of Dead Man Walker, Walker’s on the run and Reagan and Bruce Willis...the other Bruce Willis...is there to help him out...
“This is circumstantial evidence,” I said to Reagan as we stood on the sidewalk outside my house. “The police have to see that someone’s setting me up to cover their own butt.”“It’s your butt that needs covering, Walker Boone,” Reagan offered. “The police found your .38 and it matches the bullet that killed Conway. The cops are on their way. You got to get out of here right now.”I looked at my red ‘57 Chevy convertible parked at the curb. “Might as well put a target on my back driving this thing.”Reagan shoved her helmet at me. “Take Princess.”“A scooter? You want me to ride a pink scooter named Princess?”“Better than that being your nickname in the big house.”
This is Walker Boone’s story, his friendships the people and pets in his life that help him out no matter what.
So what about you? If you were in a tough spot like Walker who would help you out? Who would cover for you lend you their pink scooter to get away? Who is your Big Joey or Reagan Summerside?
Dead Man Walker
is the fourth book in my Consignment shop series…and it’s only available as an eRead. I know many of you aren’t into the eRead thing so there is a free app from Amazon that lets you download it. Blah!You say. I hate reading online worse of all but here’s the thing, Dead Man Walker is a novella. So why bother with a novella? Here’s why, it’s from Walker Boone’s point of view, meaning he’s telling the story. If you like our hunky badboy/goodguy hero Walker Boone you will really enjoy Dead Man Walker. The book starts off…“See, there he is, Mr. Boone,” Mercedes said to me. “Just like I told you on the phone, Conway Adkins dead as a fence post in his very own claw-foot bathtub and naked as the day he was born.” “I take you added the washcloth?” I said to Mercedes, both of us standing in the doorway and staring at the corpse.“Couldn’t be having the man laying there with his shrivelness all exposed to the world now could I. Not proper for a man his age.” “Or for the rest of us,” I added.
A guy’s point of view, especially a hunky dude like Walker Boone is way different than writing in the female point of view. Guys don’t think about the color of their purse. They don’t do lunch or get over a problem with retail therapy...namely shopping for shoes. They don’t go out for ice cream when they’re down, they don’t mainline chocolate or eat peanut butter out of the jar...not that I would ever do such a thing.Guys meet with their buds at the local watering hole and down a few or maybe they shoot pool or shoot hoops. Or they get bar grub or ribs or wings. Wings are always a guy pleaser.
I love guy friendships. Sherlock and Watson, Chandler and Joey on Friends, Fred Flinstone and Barney Rubble, Bert and Ernie, Batman and Robin…you get the picture.
Walker has Big Joey...
“Dawg,” Big Joey said to me as I slip onto a stool next to his, everyone in the place giving Joey space. “Know you’d show.” Big Joey was built like a Mac truck, muscles buffed to jet black, gold tooth, pony tail and main man of the Seventeenth Street gang...my former home and forever family. He was my brother in every sense of the word except parental commonality.
Of course Walker Boone has other friendships, girl friendships like with Reagan. The two started off rocky in that Walker represented Reagan’s ex in her divorce but in solving mysteries they kept tripping over each other. At the end of Dead Man Walker, Walker’s on the run and Reagan and Bruce Willis...the other Bruce Willis...is there to help him out...
“This is circumstantial evidence,” I said to Reagan as we stood on the sidewalk outside my house. “The police have to see that someone’s setting me up to cover their own butt.”“It’s your butt that needs covering, Walker Boone,” Reagan offered. “The police found your .38 and it matches the bullet that killed Conway. The cops are on their way. You got to get out of here right now.”I looked at my red ‘57 Chevy convertible parked at the curb. “Might as well put a target on my back driving this thing.”Reagan shoved her helmet at me. “Take Princess.”“A scooter? You want me to ride a pink scooter named Princess?”“Better than that being your nickname in the big house.”
This is Walker Boone’s story, his friendships the people and pets in his life that help him out no matter what.
So what about you? If you were in a tough spot like Walker who would help you out? Who would cover for you lend you their pink scooter to get away? Who is your Big Joey or Reagan Summerside?
March 31, 2020
Spring Will Come
by Maggie SeftonSorry to be a little late with this post today. I can only plead the importance of daily events that are dominating the news yesterday and today for the delay.
Hello, Cozy Chicks Blog readers and friends. I'm currently "safe sheltering" in my home here in Fort Collins, Northern Colorado. Our weather is early Spring normal. 50s & 60s. My sweet 17 year old doggie Katy and I are definitely taking it easy. We both go out and walk around my backyard and inspect the early spring buds that are filling all the branches of bushes and trees. Spring will come. We can depend on that.
Something else that has made Life better is the fact that my daughter Melissa decided to come back to her hometown and stay for a while, so she rented a nice condo apartment near my favorite shopping center. She also brought her recent adopted doggie, Theo, so she has company. Our pets are such important companions for us. I've been keeping in daily contact with my large family---my other three daughters and their families and my grandchildren back in Northern Virginia. We're very close so we've done a couple of FaceTime group calls so far. Melissa also does my grocery shopping so I don't have to go into those crowded stores. Bless her heart. :)
I sincerely hope all of you Cozy Chicks Blog readers and friends have safe and comfortable places to "Shelter in Place." Safe Sheltering is the rule of the day. Please stay safe, dear Friends.
March 29, 2020
LIFE IN LOCKDOWN
By Mary Kennedy
Damian is adapting well to lock down, because, let's face it, all he does is eat, sleep and look out the window, even in the best of times. He once spent six months on the sun porch because the shelter feared he had rabies (he didn't) so he's used to being confined, even though it was a pretty glamorous confinement.
Damian had the whole place all to himself! And I visited him several times a day.
But back to our not-so-fun lock down. Okay, true confession time. Writers do pretty well with lock down because we're used to spending long hours in self-imposed isolation, pouring over our books. Even in the best of times I have to restrict my activities. I enjoy seeing my friends, but I'd never get anything done if I socialized all the time. I have to go dark for a time, sometimes weeks or months at a stretch.
One of my non-writer friends once asked, "Does it matter if you turn in the books on time?" Er, yes! A book contract is a legal document and you are obliged to turn in the book on time once you sign on the dotted line. No excuses! As one of my former agents once said, "If there's a funeral in the family, it better be your own." That seems a bit harsh but it drives home the fact that writing is a business. Books are scheduled months (even years!) in advance and a delay can your part can wreak havoc with a publisher's line up. And make it less likely you'll get a coveted contract the next time.
If you're struggling with lock down, here are a few tips.
*We're creatures of habit, so try to stick to a regular routine. Obviously there will be hiccups and the unexpected emergency, but try to divide your day into regular sections of work, household tasks and exercise. In other words, resist the temptation to spend the morning in bed in your pj's checking e-mail.
*Set a goal. Think GPA. No, not your grade point average. It stands for Goal, Plan, Action. What do you hope to achieve, what will it take to get you there and what is one action step you can take TODAY?
*You probably have some time left over (after all, you're not commuting, are you?) so choose one activity that you've put off doing. Not power washing the house (although that's a laudable goal), instead focus on something fun like learning a language, brushing up on the piano or delving into history or memoirs. Something that feeds your brain, your soul and your sense of adventure.
Hope you are doing well in these trying times. Until next time, Mary (and Damian)
Damian is adapting well to lock down, because, let's face it, all he does is eat, sleep and look out the window, even in the best of times. He once spent six months on the sun porch because the shelter feared he had rabies (he didn't) so he's used to being confined, even though it was a pretty glamorous confinement.
Damian had the whole place all to himself! And I visited him several times a day.
But back to our not-so-fun lock down. Okay, true confession time. Writers do pretty well with lock down because we're used to spending long hours in self-imposed isolation, pouring over our books. Even in the best of times I have to restrict my activities. I enjoy seeing my friends, but I'd never get anything done if I socialized all the time. I have to go dark for a time, sometimes weeks or months at a stretch.
One of my non-writer friends once asked, "Does it matter if you turn in the books on time?" Er, yes! A book contract is a legal document and you are obliged to turn in the book on time once you sign on the dotted line. No excuses! As one of my former agents once said, "If there's a funeral in the family, it better be your own." That seems a bit harsh but it drives home the fact that writing is a business. Books are scheduled months (even years!) in advance and a delay can your part can wreak havoc with a publisher's line up. And make it less likely you'll get a coveted contract the next time.
If you're struggling with lock down, here are a few tips.
*We're creatures of habit, so try to stick to a regular routine. Obviously there will be hiccups and the unexpected emergency, but try to divide your day into regular sections of work, household tasks and exercise. In other words, resist the temptation to spend the morning in bed in your pj's checking e-mail.
*Set a goal. Think GPA. No, not your grade point average. It stands for Goal, Plan, Action. What do you hope to achieve, what will it take to get you there and what is one action step you can take TODAY?
*You probably have some time left over (after all, you're not commuting, are you?) so choose one activity that you've put off doing. Not power washing the house (although that's a laudable goal), instead focus on something fun like learning a language, brushing up on the piano or delving into history or memoirs. Something that feeds your brain, your soul and your sense of adventure.
Hope you are doing well in these trying times. Until next time, Mary (and Damian)
Consignment Shop Mystery
Duffy Brown here...today it’s a Spotlight on Pearls and Poison, book three in my Consignment Shop Mysteries set in Savannah...
get Pearls and Poison here
A dead-as-a-doornail opponent is one way to win an election…unless you wind up in jail for the murder.
“People are going to hate me if I do this,” I said to Auntie KiKi. “They’re going to cuss a blue streak and call me names and tell me to mind my own blankety-blank business and then slam the phone in my ear.” “Oh for crying in a bucket, Reagan.” KiKi shoved a computer printout at me. “Time to put on your iron-clad bloomers and dial the numbers on this here sheet. It’s your very own mamma everyone in this room is trying to get elected to city council. Least you can do is tell folks what a fine alderman she’d be, and Lord knows the city needs her instead of the scumbucket running against her.” What’s going on...It’s election time in Savannah and my very own mamma, Judge Gloria Summerside known affectionately...or not so affectionately depending on who you were and what you did...as Guillotine Gloria is on the ballot.
Mamma and my Auntie KiKi are sisters. At birth the muses tangoed over auntie’s crib turning her into Savannah’s dance diva and they wrapped mamma in a blanket with little elephants resulting in this campaign and me getting the name Reagan.
If I had my way Mamma would run ads on TV saying what a total jerk Kip Seymour is because that’s exactly what he’s doing to her. The problem is that mudslinging politics is not mamma’s style.
The HotDoggery servs as Mamma’s campaign headquarters, the place filled with banners, signs and a Lego replica of Mamma from the Garrison Elementary kindergarten class over on Jones Street.
Bruce Willis, my four-legged bff with wagging tail, and I hated to see the Doggery fold but even we couldn’t eat enough to keep the place afloat, though heaven knows we tried. All that remained was a dull yellowish mustard stain in the back corner and a faint whiff of relish.
Today Mamma looked worried, riddling me with bad-daughter I hate making callsguilt. I’m the product of a Catholic education from no-nonsense nuns who take the honor thy mother and father idea real serious. I snapped up the phone. “Look, look, I’m dialing, I’m dialing!”
Mamma’s lips thinned to a fine line across her face reminiscent of when I married Hollis Beaumont the Third. Considering how that turned out, I figured whatever worried Mamma today was sending us all straight to hell in a hand-basket.
“I heard that Kip Seymour has a new attack ad coming out about me,” Mamma said. “I don’t know what it is but I’m concerned. They say it’s a nasty one, even worse than the that accused me of embezzling money from the Children’s Aid Society.”
“Oh, but I can do much, much better,” Kip Seymour said from the doorway of the HotDoggery. “I’m going to win this election, Gloria Summerside, if it’s the last thing I do.”
March 27, 2020
SIGNS OF SPRING IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD
By Mary Kennedy
My own yard hasn't gotten the memo to "burst into bloom" but I can see signs of spring in my neighbors' yards. It's been a cold winter here in the northeast and it's nice to see flowering buds, luscious shrubs and trees that are starting to bloom.
Here are a few pictures I snapped while walking my grand dog, Yogi.
I didn't see any tulips but will keep an eye out for them. Until then, Yogi and I wish you a safe and happy week-end. Keep your social distance, take a brisk walk and help your neighbors, if you can. Animal shelters need your help more than ever. Donations of money, critical supplies of food, litter and bedding are greatly appreciated. No matter how small, your donation will help them keep the doors open and save more animals. Please donate whatever you can!
Mary Kennedy and Yogi
My own yard hasn't gotten the memo to "burst into bloom" but I can see signs of spring in my neighbors' yards. It's been a cold winter here in the northeast and it's nice to see flowering buds, luscious shrubs and trees that are starting to bloom.
Here are a few pictures I snapped while walking my grand dog, Yogi.
I didn't see any tulips but will keep an eye out for them. Until then, Yogi and I wish you a safe and happy week-end. Keep your social distance, take a brisk walk and help your neighbors, if you can. Animal shelters need your help more than ever. Donations of money, critical supplies of food, litter and bedding are greatly appreciated. No matter how small, your donation will help them keep the doors open and save more animals. Please donate whatever you can!
Mary Kennedy and Yogi
There's a spreadsheet for everything
by Lorraine Bartlett / Lorna Barrett / L.L. Bartlett
I must admit that since this whole social distancing began, I'm feeling just a tiny bit food obsessed. Twice this week we've had "buffet" because we recently made two meals with lots of leftovers (cauliflower curry and corned beef and cabbage). I LOVE leftovers, so making a big batch doesn't bother me, but now that we're in lock-down mode, I decided I should try to figure out how long we can stay home without hitting the grocery store again. We have enough stuff for at least 36 dinners.
How do I know this?
I did an inventory and made a spreadsheet. I attached it to my fridge (with a Mary Engelbreit magnet) and now when we have a meal, we can cross off a line on the spreadsheet. (Last night it was one of 5 packages (of two) hot dogs.)
I must admit, I'm very anal and make a LOT of spreadsheets. They're just so handy to keep track of things. I keep track of my sales, my deductions for taxes, my website hits, etc. The problem is, I'm not good what figuring out what all that data is good for. Some people have analytical minds, I certainly do NOT.
I hope I can get through the entire month of April without hitting the store, but I know we won't want to start drinking our coffee and tea without milk. So far the store hasn't been too full because most people stocked up last week or the week before, but when they all start running out of stuff at the same time, it's going to be bedlam again. And maintaining a 6-foot bubble is hard to do in the grocery store even when you're doing your best. (Ever notice how some people just park in the middle of the aisle so that nobody can get past them.)
BTW, here's a video about sanitizing the food you bring in from the grocery store. Just click this link.
How long do you think you can hold out before you have to hit the grocery store again?
I must admit that since this whole social distancing began, I'm feeling just a tiny bit food obsessed. Twice this week we've had "buffet" because we recently made two meals with lots of leftovers (cauliflower curry and corned beef and cabbage). I LOVE leftovers, so making a big batch doesn't bother me, but now that we're in lock-down mode, I decided I should try to figure out how long we can stay home without hitting the grocery store again. We have enough stuff for at least 36 dinners.How do I know this?
I did an inventory and made a spreadsheet. I attached it to my fridge (with a Mary Engelbreit magnet) and now when we have a meal, we can cross off a line on the spreadsheet. (Last night it was one of 5 packages (of two) hot dogs.)I must admit, I'm very anal and make a LOT of spreadsheets. They're just so handy to keep track of things. I keep track of my sales, my deductions for taxes, my website hits, etc. The problem is, I'm not good what figuring out what all that data is good for. Some people have analytical minds, I certainly do NOT.
I hope I can get through the entire month of April without hitting the store, but I know we won't want to start drinking our coffee and tea without milk. So far the store hasn't been too full because most people stocked up last week or the week before, but when they all start running out of stuff at the same time, it's going to be bedlam again. And maintaining a 6-foot bubble is hard to do in the grocery store even when you're doing your best. (Ever notice how some people just park in the middle of the aisle so that nobody can get past them.)BTW, here's a video about sanitizing the food you bring in from the grocery store. Just click this link.
How long do you think you can hold out before you have to hit the grocery store again?
March 25, 2020
Business As Usual?
Although
none of us are experiencing life as we usually know it, I work from home, so the social distancing restrictions haven't had much of an impact on my day-to-day life. Let me take you through a typical day:• Get out of bed; feed the cats; give the dog a treat; Bible study; skim mail; try not to procrastinate; procrastinate; get ready: go to work at the desk or armchair, depending on where I am in my current WIP.
Walk Cooper, visit with any human or pet who comes out to say hello. Get back to work.Visit with family; work again after they go to bed. I must admit I've had a few atypical days. But, if you know me, you understand these are pretty normal for me too.
On Monday of this week, I decided we should make a grocery store run to restock our pantry. This, after seeing empty shelves on the local news and not wanting to contribute to hoarding mentality, but wanting to ensure my family would have plenty of food should we be quarantined.
As my husband and I perused the shelves, we were surprised at some of the items in short supply, such as bread. "I'll get some frozen bread dough, I said. When we got to the freezer section, I thought at first I was going to have to settle for roll dough. But, no! There, pushed to the back of the freezer was one package of bread dough. I got as far into the freezer that I could, but I still couldn't reach.
"Tim!" I called, hoping he hadn't wandered off. "Help me! I can't get it!"
He hadn't wandered away. He came to stand by me in the freezer. "What are you trying to reach?" I told him, and he easily snagged the last three-loaf package of bread dough. Score!
A woman Tim works with was approaching, so I walked away leaving them to talk. I apologized to Tim in the car saying, "You looked fine. I, on the other hand, looked like a no-makeup, crazy-haired hoarder who'd been standing in a freezer. I'll talk with her the next time we see her... if I look nicer."
I brought home our pantry staples, and you know what? The kids have already dug into them! You know what else? Some of that stuff is looking pretty good to me too.
UPDATE: I write these blog posts early, so I won't forget to post. Today (March 20), I posted this in my Gayle Leeson Cozy Mystery Author Facebook group:
Do something that will make you happy. Yesterday evening, I was in the grocery store with my son. I spotted something I really wanted but thought I shouldn't waste money on. But I wanted it!
I told my son, "Flip an imaginary coin."
He said, "Tails."
I said, "Okay."
He said, "What are you not buying now?"
I smiled because he knows me so well. "Those pink roses."
"Get them," he said.
So I did. This morning, I skimmed through my emails and was feeling down when I walked into the kitchen. There on the table were my pink roses, and I smiled.
To rob from the old Mastercard commercials:
Pink roses: $10Keeping my spirits up: Priceless
