It’s National Homemade Bread Day, and I would love to celebrate this one the right way–with a freshly baked load of bread and a glass of white grape juice (my drink of choice this days). However, I need to be able to fit into the jeans I’m wearing right now for a little while longer. I could probably eat a whole loaf, well, maybe half a loaf, in the course of one day. That’s not healthy.
But what could be better than a moderate portion of homemade bread? Whether it’s white bread, banana nut bread, zucchini bread or any other kind you crave, it’s one of life’s simple pleasures. Okay, eating it is a simple pleasure. Making it, especially yeast breads, takes a little practice and know-how. Unless you cheat and use a bread maker.
All this in anticipation of Thanksgiving, where my homemade Parkerhouse rolls were famous in my family. I made them every year. One year I was late because I forgot to turn the oven on, and my grandma was furious. I’d messed up the timing for everything for her. But my uncles, cousins, mom and stepdad just laughed it off and ate heartily.
You just never know when something bad can happen. Two weeks ago I got to work (which is to say I walked from my bedroom to what I loosely call my office) and there was a cheery message from my colleague. This is the woman who trained me, and she takes the lead in assigning me work. Anyway, I sent a message to her saying I was ready for my assignments. I didn’t hear and didn’t hear. My manager was late, and it turns out with good reason–she’d gotten a message from Rita, my co-worker, saying she (Rita) had fallen and broken her femur. Hip replacement surgery was necessary.
I was shaking the rest of the morning. Not because of what happened to Rita (although I felt terrible for her), but what it means for me. The brunt of the workload is going to fall on me now, and I still don’t know how to do everything. I expect Rita will be out at least a month and I’m scared. Yes, it’s a chance to prove myself, and I’m trying to focus on that, but it’s scary asking questions my manager might expect me to know the answers to by now.
But things have started to come together. It’s still scary, and I’d be concerned if it wasn’t. But all I can do is all I can do, and leave it at that. I’m learning a lot and that’s worth it all.
Of course in the middle of this newly-added pressure at work, my TV completely poops out. Doesn’t even power on. I had to resort to watching my streaming channels on my laptop, which has its limitations. I looked online at what was available in the way of new TVs and realized I’m still in the 20th century when it comes to television sets. Okay, maybe not completely. But close to the turn of the century. I mean, what is a smart TV?
I got lucky, though. I mentioned what had happened to my co-worker Bre, and she offered to give me one of her extra television sets. Of course I planned to pay, but she brushed that aside and gave it to me outright. Yes, it’s a smart TV–with Roku–and it fits perfectly on the little dresser I use as a TV stand.
The really cool thing about this is that I’d just gotten a brand-new Roku, and now I can give that to a friend who’s limping by with one of the originals. She’s on a fixed income and is barely getting by, so I know she’ll appreciate this gift. I feel good.
And the last good/bad thing to happen? I had a health scare, which forced me to confront some of my bad eating habits. I’ve changed and lost five pounds–I’m close to my goal weight, which is a good thing since losing that weight was a New Year’s resolution and I’ve struggled every day with it. I just couldn’t get it together until I had a concrete reason to do so.
Yes, you never know when something bad is going to happen, but you never know when that something bad might turn into something good.
If, like me, you can do without the deluge of horror stories that arrive every October, here are three classic films with charm and style–and ghosts. I’ve reviewed each in my other blog, Classic for a Reason, and include a link so you can read the full review.
A headstrong, independent widow goes against her late husband’s family’s wishes and strikes out on her own, young daughter and loyal maid by her side. Lucy Muir (Gene Tierney), no longer wishing to be under the thumb of her mother-in-law, decides to move to the coast. She finds an affordable cottage that would be perfect, except it is haunted by the ghost of sea captain Daniel Gregg (Rex Harrison), who wants nothing more than to scare the young woman away.
Instead, there is an immediate attraction, which takes an interesting turn when Lucy learns her investment income has dried up and she has nothing to live on. Captain Gregg comes to the rescue with his idea to write a book, a memoir of his life at sea, salty language and racy stories included.
Edward Everett Horton, Robert Montgomery, Claude Rains
Death has come about 50 years too soon for boxer Joe Pendleton (Robert Montgomery) when novice Angel 7013 (Edward Everett Horton) takes his soul early. Pendleton’s untimely arrival in heaven is confirmed to be a mistake by Angel 7013’s superior, Mr. Jordan (Claude Rains), but by the time they arrive on earth to place Joe back in his body, he’s been cremated.
Thus begins the search for the perfect new body. Despite his reservations, Joe ends up being placed in the physique of an unscrupulous millionaire, Bruce Farnsworth, who has been cheating thousands out of their hard-earned money. Joe sets out to right the situation, and falls in love in the meantime.
In 17th century Salem, two witches, Jennifer (Veronica Lake) and her father Daniel (Cecil Kellaway), are burned at the stake, and an oak tree is planted over their ashes to trap their spirits. In revenge, Jennifer casts a spell on the man responsible for their demise, Jonathan Wooley. He and all his male descendants will find misery rather than love.
That spell’s magic is worked in the lives of all Wooley men over the next 270 years, and it looks like it’s about happen again. Gubernatorial candidate Wallace Wooley (Fredric March) is about to marry Estelle Masterson (Susan Hayward), whose father, J.B. (Robert Warwick), is Wallace’s biggest political supporter.
The day before the wedding (and two days before the election), lightning strikes the oak tree trapping Daniel and Jennifer, and their spirits are released. They soon find Wallace, and Jennifer is gleeful about the thought of further revenge. Against his better judgment, Daniel allows Jennifer to talk him into letting her take human form once again.
My last few cat posts have featured Walter, which is easy to do since he’s so much more expressive than Mimi. Today, however, I caught my little bean looking a little anxious, a little inquisitive, with a little, “say what?” expression on her sweet face. So I’m sharing Mimi with you, which is a good thing, seeing as how she’s such a love.
I’m betting most of you know someone with Cerebral Palsy (CP). I know several people as a result of formerly being a case manager for those with developmental disabilities, not to mention a friend in high school and the daughter of a co-worker now. It’s a disorder that runs the gamut in how much disability it causes, but all with CP have challenges with movement and posture.
They also have challenges with public perception.
Children, we all know, can be cruel, especially when presented with a classmate who is different in some way. My friend Leigh and my co-worker’s daughter Anna (not her real name) were teased so much all through school that they became reclusive and had difficulty making friends. Leigh found a church group and Anna relates well to adults, but not people her own age.
Anna’s mom talked to Anna’s teachers, who allegedly all said the same thing: “we’ll just make it worse by punishing the children who tease.” (Maybe that’s true, maybe not–I’m not entirely sure Anna’s mom is telling me everything there.) Many schools have a zero tolerance policy with bullying now, and hopefully that helps children with disabilities survive the turmoil of their youth.
Then there’s the opposite reaction of too much sympathy. When I worked in a bookstore, a boy using a walker came in once and headed straight to the children’s section. He asked for help once getting a book down that he couldn’t reach, and aside from my usual can-I-help-you-find-anything, that was all he needed from me. When he was ready to check out, he put his selections in the walker, and we headed up the cash register, where an older woman gushed all over him.
“Oh, you brave little angel,” she said. “You remind me of my granddaughter, and I love her so much.”
She turned to me and said, “Poor thing. His life must be so hard.” This right in front of the boy.
“I think he does just fine,” I snapped, and checked him out. I was impressed that he handled his own finances–he was probably 11 or 12–and when his mom showed up seconds later (she’d been looking for books in another section) I told her as much.
She beamed and he smiled. “He insists. He’s pretty independent.”
So there you go.
I think most of those reading this blog already know this, but I’ll say it anyway. Children and adults with disabilities, CP and otherwise, need help with the things they can’t manage because of the limitations of their disability. That’s it. The rest of it is the life stuff we all face (okay, we all need help with that from time to time) and you can’t coddle or patronize them.
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