Went to the mall yesterday -- first time since last January. Didn't go out into the actual mall -- headed directly into Penney's. Had a list -- hunted for little girls' and teen girls' department to look for bargains for my granddaughters. Found it -- thought I'd stumbled into Victoria's Secret by mistake. Can't begin to express my heartache. Cried for the little girls of the world.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thanksgiving Blues
It's Thanksgiving and here I am stuck in Boise with 5 pies, 60 rolls, and 2 tons of sweet potatoes that should be half-way to Utah! Why am I in Boise?????? I could just cry!!!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
TRICK OR TREAT!
When I was a little kid around 5 to 7 years old (let’s say between the years of 1947 and 1949) Halloween was scary! It wasn’t the watered-down family-friendly event that today’s generation experiences. At least in my neighborhood, it wasn’t.
I was the youngest kid in my family and my older brothers and sisters all thoroughly delighted in scaring me to death! About a week before Halloween my brother would make small spiders out of thin black wire and dangle them everywhere he knew I would be walking. He had a bottle of luminescent paint that he put high up on the closet shelf -- he told me that a ghost had moved in there and to prove it, he would shove me in there and shut the door and hold it closed. The ghostly bottle glowed it’s eerie greenish glow and I would scream and cry -- delighting him to no end.
On Halloween night we dressed up as hobos (there wasn’t such a thing as store-bought costumes – and hobo clothes were what we usually wore during daylight hours anyway – so it was easy to put some soot from the stove on our noses, black out a tooth with a crayon, and tie a handkerchief onto a pruned tree limb to carry over our shoulder) and carrying a big pillow case to hold our anticipated goodies, we’d set off on our night of trick-or-treating. Candy was an uncommon treat. At Christmas we would make fudge and sometimes get some hard candies. If one of us were ever lucky to have a nickel, we’d get 5 pieces of penny candy at Ferg’s Gas Station and share it with whoever was with us. The hope of a pillowcase full of candy was worth putting your life on the line.
We lived on an apple farm in the midst of about 15 other apple farms, each farmhouse was at least a mile away from the next, and to get to each house we had to walk down long, long, long tree-lined lanes – their leafless branches reaching out to grab hapless, helpless victims. The roads and lanes were unlit and the dark orchards provided hiding places for myriads of black, evil monsters.
We had to walk by and cross a canal -- and that was the scariest part of the entire night. At the east end of Center Street in Provo all of the insane people in the state of Utah resided at the State Mental Hospital; and every year on Halloween night at least two or three dozen of the most grotesque, sadistic inmates escaped the institution and walked the banks of that canal. In hushed voices the older kids told us tales of kids they had known – and would never know again – who had walked this same path on past Halloween nights.
By the time we finally reached a house – usually lit with only one 40 watt bulb because electricity cost money – my entire body shook with fright and anticipation. We’d pound on the door and yell TRICK OR TREAT! The woman who came to door would feign shock at the site of so many ragamuffins and into each pillowcase deposit her offering.
We were all cold and worn to a frazzle by the time we got back home, anxious to see what goodies were in our bags. With great anticipation we dumped our bags onto the living room floor and out of each tumbled a dozen crisp red apples! We'd been tricked! Well, there was always next year . . . And next year we were dumb enough to do the same thing!
I was the youngest kid in my family and my older brothers and sisters all thoroughly delighted in scaring me to death! About a week before Halloween my brother would make small spiders out of thin black wire and dangle them everywhere he knew I would be walking. He had a bottle of luminescent paint that he put high up on the closet shelf -- he told me that a ghost had moved in there and to prove it, he would shove me in there and shut the door and hold it closed. The ghostly bottle glowed it’s eerie greenish glow and I would scream and cry -- delighting him to no end.
On Halloween night we dressed up as hobos (there wasn’t such a thing as store-bought costumes – and hobo clothes were what we usually wore during daylight hours anyway – so it was easy to put some soot from the stove on our noses, black out a tooth with a crayon, and tie a handkerchief onto a pruned tree limb to carry over our shoulder) and carrying a big pillow case to hold our anticipated goodies, we’d set off on our night of trick-or-treating. Candy was an uncommon treat. At Christmas we would make fudge and sometimes get some hard candies. If one of us were ever lucky to have a nickel, we’d get 5 pieces of penny candy at Ferg’s Gas Station and share it with whoever was with us. The hope of a pillowcase full of candy was worth putting your life on the line.
We lived on an apple farm in the midst of about 15 other apple farms, each farmhouse was at least a mile away from the next, and to get to each house we had to walk down long, long, long tree-lined lanes – their leafless branches reaching out to grab hapless, helpless victims. The roads and lanes were unlit and the dark orchards provided hiding places for myriads of black, evil monsters.
We had to walk by and cross a canal -- and that was the scariest part of the entire night. At the east end of Center Street in Provo all of the insane people in the state of Utah resided at the State Mental Hospital; and every year on Halloween night at least two or three dozen of the most grotesque, sadistic inmates escaped the institution and walked the banks of that canal. In hushed voices the older kids told us tales of kids they had known – and would never know again – who had walked this same path on past Halloween nights.
By the time we finally reached a house – usually lit with only one 40 watt bulb because electricity cost money – my entire body shook with fright and anticipation. We’d pound on the door and yell TRICK OR TREAT! The woman who came to door would feign shock at the site of so many ragamuffins and into each pillowcase deposit her offering.
We were all cold and worn to a frazzle by the time we got back home, anxious to see what goodies were in our bags. With great anticipation we dumped our bags onto the living room floor and out of each tumbled a dozen crisp red apples! We'd been tricked! Well, there was always next year . . . And next year we were dumb enough to do the same thing!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Tent Camping on the Oregon Coast #11
GOING HOME
Wednesday – another gorgeous day. Why? Because it was time to go home!
We had reservations at Memaloose State Park. Remember? The camp with the train tracks on one side and the freeway on the other? But now we were used to gale force winds, pounding rain, and roaring ocean – what’s a little train and freeway noise?
We arrived at Memaloose under blue windless skies – a snap to set up camp in such perfect conditions. It didn’t take us long – we were pros.
I was setting out supper, when a lady emerged from a big RV and came across the road.
“We were watching you set up your tent from our window,” she said. “It went up so easily. You seemed to work well as a team. Our compliments.”
“Thanks. It’s a good tent,” I replied. And had to force my eyeballs not to roll – if she only knew . . . . The End!
Wednesday – another gorgeous day. Why? Because it was time to go home!
We had reservations at Memaloose State Park. Remember? The camp with the train tracks on one side and the freeway on the other? But now we were used to gale force winds, pounding rain, and roaring ocean – what’s a little train and freeway noise?
We arrived at Memaloose under blue windless skies – a snap to set up camp in such perfect conditions. It didn’t take us long – we were pros.
I was setting out supper, when a lady emerged from a big RV and came across the road.
“We were watching you set up your tent from our window,” she said. “It went up so easily. You seemed to work well as a team. Our compliments.”
“Thanks. It’s a good tent,” I replied. And had to force my eyeballs not to roll – if she only knew . . . . The End!
Tent Camping on the Oregon Coast #10
MUNSON FALLS
Tuesday was beautiful – there were actually spots of blue in the sky – our first and only day with no rain – a perfect day for finding fairies at Munson Falls.
Munson Creek tumbled over a high cliff into a beautiful fall,
then happily bubbled over moss covered rocks and fallen logs.
Ferns grew everywhere. Trees dripped with moss. Little hollows under wet tree roots could easily have been gathering places for the fairy people.
If I turned my head quick enough I thought I might be able to see a fairy sitting on a moss-covered rock by the stream, or hiding under a fern. It was an enchanted place – I could feel it. . . .
Tuesday was beautiful – there were actually spots of blue in the sky – our first and only day with no rain – a perfect day for finding fairies at Munson Falls.
Munson Creek tumbled over a high cliff into a beautiful fall,
then happily bubbled over moss covered rocks and fallen logs.
Ferns grew everywhere. Trees dripped with moss. Little hollows under wet tree roots could easily have been gathering places for the fairy people.
If I turned my head quick enough I thought I might be able to see a fairy sitting on a moss-covered rock by the stream, or hiding under a fern. It was an enchanted place – I could feel it. . . .
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Tent Camping on the Oregon Coast #9
CAPE MEARES & TILLAMOOK AIR MUSEUM
On Monday morning, the rain had let up to a mist, so we spread a cloth on the picnic table and had a feast.
We had stopped at Fred Meyer in Tillamook the day before and had bought stuff we shouldn’t’ve. But after a week of instant oatmeal, it sure was yummy! Then we drove up to the point that separates the ocean from the entrance to Tillamook Bay
and walked down the trail to the Cape Meares Lighthouse. 
The “Friends of the Lighthouse” had a gift shop inside, and I squashed pennies, bought a pin for my hiking stick, and paid $1.00 for a stamp in my book.
Back at the parking lot we found the trail to “The Octopus tree.”
It felt eerie with the tree’s big limbs reaching out and the mist hovering all around.
Then we found the trail to the biggest sitka spruce in Oregon. Dale felt that he hadn’t ought to try the trail, so he stayed in the car, and I set out alone. It was a beautiful trail among the huge spruce trees. Many of the old huge trees were fallen and their root balls laid on the earth as big as cabins. Although I was alone on the path, I didn’t have an uneasy feeling like I had had back at Fort Clatsup. I felt quite protected, actually – like I was among friends. The big tree was easy to spot, at one time it must have towered mightily over the forest. Lightening had taken off the top 1/4 of the tree – but still, it was King of the forest.
A sign nearby said that the tree was thought to be at least 800 years old, it towered to 144 feet, and its trunk was 15 feet in diameter. Granted there are much bigger trees in the Redwood Forest, but this tree was gentler, and I was alone with it in the quiet forest, and I had the opportunity to have a one on one conversation with it.
We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Tillamook Air Museum – something that Dale was eager to do. I couldn’t believe the hugeness of the hangar this museum was housed in! It was built during World War II to house the blimps that were used to guard the coast. The building held 8 blimps – each 252 feet long! Because all the steel, and aluminum was being used for war machinery and ships, the dome for this hangar was built with a zillion boards. Can you believe such a huge building that stored helium blimps would be made of wood? The hangar is 1,072 feet long, 192 feet high (15 stories) and 296 feet wide! I was studying the huge 120 foot, 30 ton doors when I noticed between the roof and the top of the door – 130 feet up – was a basketball hoop!
Dale was in heaven ogling all the wonderful old airplanes. I felt relieved that the only thing he bought was a hat! Me? I squashed pennies and got my book stamped.
On Monday morning, the rain had let up to a mist, so we spread a cloth on the picnic table and had a feast.
We had stopped at Fred Meyer in Tillamook the day before and had bought stuff we shouldn’t’ve. But after a week of instant oatmeal, it sure was yummy! Then we drove up to the point that separates the ocean from the entrance to Tillamook Bay
and walked down the trail to the Cape Meares Lighthouse. 
The “Friends of the Lighthouse” had a gift shop inside, and I squashed pennies, bought a pin for my hiking stick, and paid $1.00 for a stamp in my book. Back at the parking lot we found the trail to “The Octopus tree.”
It felt eerie with the tree’s big limbs reaching out and the mist hovering all around. Then we found the trail to the biggest sitka spruce in Oregon. Dale felt that he hadn’t ought to try the trail, so he stayed in the car, and I set out alone. It was a beautiful trail among the huge spruce trees. Many of the old huge trees were fallen and their root balls laid on the earth as big as cabins. Although I was alone on the path, I didn’t have an uneasy feeling like I had had back at Fort Clatsup. I felt quite protected, actually – like I was among friends. The big tree was easy to spot, at one time it must have towered mightily over the forest. Lightening had taken off the top 1/4 of the tree – but still, it was King of the forest.
A sign nearby said that the tree was thought to be at least 800 years old, it towered to 144 feet, and its trunk was 15 feet in diameter. Granted there are much bigger trees in the Redwood Forest, but this tree was gentler, and I was alone with it in the quiet forest, and I had the opportunity to have a one on one conversation with it. We spent the rest of the afternoon at the Tillamook Air Museum – something that Dale was eager to do. I couldn’t believe the hugeness of the hangar this museum was housed in! It was built during World War II to house the blimps that were used to guard the coast. The building held 8 blimps – each 252 feet long! Because all the steel, and aluminum was being used for war machinery and ships, the dome for this hangar was built with a zillion boards. Can you believe such a huge building that stored helium blimps would be made of wood? The hangar is 1,072 feet long, 192 feet high (15 stories) and 296 feet wide! I was studying the huge 120 foot, 30 ton doors when I noticed between the roof and the top of the door – 130 feet up – was a basketball hoop!
Dale was in heaven ogling all the wonderful old airplanes. I felt relieved that the only thing he bought was a hat! Me? I squashed pennies and got my book stamped.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Frozen Yogurt at CostCo
Today at Costco I was in line to get my usual frozen yogurt Costco treat. An old man was at the window in front of me (old man – he was probably my age . . .)
He handed his half-eaten cup of frozen yogurt to the deli-guy. “Could I get another yogurt?” he asked obviously perturbed.
“Is something the matter with this one?” the deli guy asked, taking the cup and eyeballing it.
“It’s got a big hole in it,” the old man said.
“In the cup?” the deli guy asked?
“No, in the yogurt.” the old man said.
“Sure,” the deli guy said, looking a little puzzled.
Upon receiving his new yogurt, the old man said, “And this one has no holes in it? It is really full?”
“I filled it myself,” the deli-guy said, patiently and respectfully. “There are no holes.”
“How do you know?” the old man asked.
“Because we weigh them. See that scale right by the dispenser?” the deli-guy said.
“Oh,” the old man said, not quite convinced.
Then it was my turn. I gave him my order, ending with: “. . .and one yogurt swirl with no holes, please.”
The deli-guy looked at me incredulously! Then he broke into a big smile and got my yogurt.
He handed his half-eaten cup of frozen yogurt to the deli-guy. “Could I get another yogurt?” he asked obviously perturbed.
“Is something the matter with this one?” the deli guy asked, taking the cup and eyeballing it.
“It’s got a big hole in it,” the old man said.
“In the cup?” the deli guy asked?
“No, in the yogurt.” the old man said.
“Sure,” the deli guy said, looking a little puzzled.
Upon receiving his new yogurt, the old man said, “And this one has no holes in it? It is really full?”
“I filled it myself,” the deli-guy said, patiently and respectfully. “There are no holes.”
“How do you know?” the old man asked.
“Because we weigh them. See that scale right by the dispenser?” the deli-guy said.
“Oh,” the old man said, not quite convinced.
Then it was my turn. I gave him my order, ending with: “. . .and one yogurt swirl with no holes, please.”
The deli-guy looked at me incredulously! Then he broke into a big smile and got my yogurt.
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