Tea for Two (Hundred)

For my birthday last September the Goovers (and parents) bought me a box of tea.  Yep.  A box of tea.  Now mind you within this HUGE box, there were several little boxes, each containing 20 tea bags.  I have enough tea to last me the rest of the decade!  A few Christmas' ago they bought me an electric tea maker, very similar to a four cup coffee maker, so I guess I'm all set.

Most of you know that I am a big coffee drinker. (understatement) I am also a snob when it comes to the kind of coffee I will drink. "Office" coffee will get me through in a pinch, but  I don't like it.  When I reach for that swill it's the caffeine I'm after, not the taste.  I  do enjoy tea also, but am not quite as snobby about it.  When I'm not feeling well, nothing hits the spot like good old Lipton tea with some honey in it!  I also live on Lipton iced tea in the summertime, and just like my coffee it's straight up.  No sugar, but sometimes a slice of lemon.  Homemade I might add, because I am not a fan of bottled/canned iced tea.

The best tea drink is when I add some UV Pink Lemonade(that would be vodka) to it.......  I had some Opulent pink iced tea last night at Happy Hour, and I kept thinking "This would be soooooo good with iced tea in it!"  

The tea the Goovers gave me is what I would call "snobby" tea.  There are fabulous flavors.  So far "Paris" is my favorite, followed closely by "Rubio Chai".  No one has cared for "White Grapefruit."  I wasn't surprised.  Maybe I should have a tea party, although the Goovers wont drink it.  Hmmmm an adult tea party?  Unless there's alcohol that probably wont work.

Picture from a card Hannah gave me years ago. :)

I'll just keep plugging away at it, because it's a fabulous way to warm up on a cold night, and around here we have plenty of those, even in the middle of summer.  Plus there's the added bonus of thinking of my Goovers every time I brew an aromatic cup, and that always makes me smile. ♥

Girls Will Be Girls

A friend of mine called me last night, she has a teen age daughter, that we will call..... Erin, who is having an issue with a girl at school.  They are on the same soft ball team, and this other girl is a captain.  She apparently doesn't like the way Erin encourages and motivates (i.e. yelling to team mates during a game) the other players, and is talking about her behind her back, although it seems to be always where Erin's own friends can hear it.  I should also mention that the coach encourages Erin to keep up the motivation.

My friend explained to her daughter Erin that the other girl feels threatened, and that is likely the reason for the behind the behind the back talking.  This is very true.  It's always the reason for behind the back talking.  Jealousy, insecurity, etc. etc. etc.  She was calling me to get my take on it, and to see if I perhaps had any insight on how to handle it.  ( Me..... who was born without the "give a crap what other people think" gene.)

I do know how to handle this one, however.  It works like a charm, and will usually fix the issue......one way or another.  I actually had to do this a few years ago at work with another female teacher.  NOT because I gave one rats ass what she thought, but because I wanted to flex a little muscle with her to remind them all not to mess with me. ;) 

First of all, if Mommy gets involved at this point: A. It's going to make it worse. B. Erin wont learn how to handle her own situations.  She's sixteen now, the big bad world is just beyond the horizon, she needs to start finding her own way.  Girls are bitches.  Women are bitches.  That simple fact is never going to change.

How do you handle it?  You confront her.  Not only confront her, but make sure others are around to hear it.  Nothing mean or nasty.  It's very simple.  " A lot of people have been telling me that you're talking about me behind my back.  If you have a problem with me, I would prefer it if you took it up with me."  Then just simply walk away.  No drama, no fuss, no muss, walk away.  One of two things will happen.  She will be embarrassed and knock it off, realizing you are going to call her on her crap, OR she will say what's bothering her and you can talk about it.  Most of the time it's the first thing.  Plus the added bonus of showing others that you will call them on their crap.

On the off chance (because I don't know this other girl from Adam) the "B" word is flung at you, or something similar as you walk away, you can ignore it, OR turn, look her straight in the eye, say "Grow up" and keep walking. (We all know what I would do, but I've never had that happen.) Acting like you could give a crap is a HUGE part of what makes this work.  Honestly not giving a crap is much better, but we were all teenagers once.  I'm sure it mattered to me then.....

This has honestly worked for me every time I've used it.  Although I realize that Erin isn't me.  She's a much kinder, gentler soul,(which is why she hasn't really encountered this before) and confronting it might be too much.  I encouraged her Mom to keep tabs on it, in case it escalates, because of course then she needs to get involved.  It would be a shame for Erin to stop playing a sport she loved because one little snot is ruining it for her.  I hope that isn't what it comes down to, because I'm sure that's what this other gal is counting on.

Softball anyone?  Mommy shouldn't interfere......... but I'm pretty sure I know who this little girl's parents are........  mua ha ha.  Ok, ok, I'll behave.  :)  *innocent smile*

Standards

 We will start today's discussion with a little graph.

Last Friday it was brought to my attention by a male friend of mine, who has known me most of my life, that "Maybe you are setting the bar to high."  To high for him, or to high in general is what I wondered, but managed not to blunder into that territory.

Instead I explained to him, basically what my little homemade graph shows.  The pic is blurry to me on dial up, so I can't tell if it's blurry to you too.  Thus I will point out what may be obvious.  The top line is where I have set the bar for a man who wants to have a relationship with me.  The bottom line is where my expectation level is when I meet a man, and the middle line is the reality of what I have found.  Sometimes that isn't the guy's fault, it's just that I'm not physically attracted to him. This is why I'm happily single 

My graph used to look very different.  My expectations were the top line, but "The Bar" (what I would accept) was the middle line, and reality was the bottom.  That is why I was mostly miserably attached in some way, shape, or form.  I wasn't always unhappy, but I was very rarely content.  I settled for things, and people who weren't good for me.  I can identify those people quickly now, without going through months, or years of nonsense. 

I have to point out that I really don't think I'm asking for to much.  Everyone deserves to be with someone who fits what they are looking for, and who treats them well.  Believe me, I know that's a two way street.  I will never "As God as my Witness" (GWTW!) settle for anything less, EVER again.

Ah Crap!

Blogger just changed EVERYTHING.  I hate change.  HATE IT!  For a minute I thought I would have to give up writing all together because I couldn't figure out where to post. *eye roll at myself*  Why can't things just stay simple, and the same?  *big sigh*  Back to work.  TGIF!

Inspiration

A few blogs ago I mentioned talking with an older lady, she was probably ninety at the time, about figuring out the mysteries of life.  That lady is Grandma Ann Landin, and she worked with the Foster Grandparent program here in Superior for at least twenty years, and the last ten of those were with me at the Y.  She retired when she was ninety-two, and until today I hadn't seen her in probably a year and a half.  Honestly, until about a month ago I didn't even know if she was still with us.  I really didn't realize she had turned niney-five already!

Her eyesight isn't what it used to be, and she willingly uses her walker now.......not whipping it around or leaving it behind all together like she used to, but other than that, she was absolutely unchanged.  She knew who I was, asked after Sandy Hughitt by her real name, and wanted to know "how that guy is."  That would be Teacher Tom.  She was fiesty, loud, and laughing about this and that.  We fell right back into the old banter that both of us enjoyed for the better part of ten years. 

I mentioned on facebook that I had seen her, as a lot of my friends know her too.  The comments made me remember so many things, her singing, dancing, and making up names for people, because she couldn't always remember the assistants names. (suzabella coopenheimer is my favorite) She never knicknamed me though, I was always her Teacher Joanie, and she was/is my Grandma.  When we parted ways this afternoon and I went to hug her someone said "Look out now, you're in my territory." I looked at him and said "Back off buddy, she's MY Grandma."

When I am an old lady I am going to be just like her.  I will be soft enough to be a comfort to others, but snappy enough to make people mind me.  I will dance and sing and make up names, because I already do these things, and I enjoy them.  I will take joy in the simple pleasures life has to offer, give back to this world, and I will keep my mind and my body busy, just like she does.  Heck, up until she was just about ninety she still enjoyed a cold beer every afternoon.  She still drove up until about that time too........probably not the best idea.  No matter what you needed, Grandma had it in the trunk of her car.  I used to joke with her that if she looked hard enough Jimmy Hoffa was probably in there. 

She told me that we don't really ever figure out life........ but I think that maybe she has, and she just doesn't know it. 

When she was walking away I heard her say to the gal who helps her out, "This was my lucky day!  I've thought about her so much."  No Grandma, I'm the lucky one.  We are shaped by the women who raise us, and even though I was an adult, you definitely had a strong hand in shaping me into the woman I am today. ♥

Slugger

Sorry for the silence.  I have blogs lined up to write, but either haven't had the oomph to do it, or when I've tried the computer hasn't allowed it.  I've tried to write this one three times now, but the dial up monster is having issues with me adding pictures.  I know, I know, dial up?  *shrug*

Last week we celebrated The Artist Formerly Known as Pablo's birthday.  Here is a picture of him during his first season of t-ball.

Little Pablo

Last year Paul graduated to baseball!  Somehow, I think when he turns pro he will change his name back to Pablo again.  It has a ring to it.  "Pablo Meys the Guatemalan Thunder".  He definitely already has the look down, the pic below was not a "posed" picture, he was just walking by me after the game.

Arg!  I finally had to take a picture of this picture with my phone, send it to my email, download it at my sister's house and finish this blog!  Happy Happy Late Birthday Paul....ablo!  Even though I don't want your yucky kisses anymore I still love you with all my heart. :)  Cant wait for TAFKAP baseball this year!

Lemon Torte

When people think of Easter, they usually think about eggs, bunnies, Jesus raised from the dead, the normal Easter things.  Not me.  I always think of Lemon Tortes.  Every year I would sit and watch my Mom make them.  While they are not my favorite dessert, there is something so special about them, especially now that she's gone.  I try and make them every year, and this year the girls were here to watch and help at the end. It is so cool to pass traditions down to the kids.

So here they are:     RUTHIE'S LEMON TORTES


First you have to make the meringue shells.   You will need 4 eggs, 1/4 tsp. cream of tartar, and 1cup of granulated sugar.  Separate the eggs, putting the whites into a mixing bowl, and saving the yolks in a small bowl for later.  I can not stress enough (nor could my Mother) you can not get ANY yolk into these whites, or it will not work.  I have always managed to keep them perfect, so I can't say if this is really true.

Beat the eggs whites and cream of tartar on high, adding the sugar slowly.  Beat until stiff.  This is going to take a few boring minutes of standing there.  Make sure you have a rubber scraper and scrape the sides of the bowl periodically.  My Mom always called it the "stiff peak" stage.  The mixture will get very glossy, and if you stick the spatula in it and lift it out, peaks like this are left behind.



Tortes work best when placed on a cookie sheet. WAIT!  Put some baking paper down first!  Just use a soup spoon and plop a dollop onto the sheet.  I have to make 13 tortes, so my dollops aren't huge.  I actually use five eggs in this recipe to get that many tortes, but don't change any of the other ingredients at all. :)  I am a "wing it" kind of cook.

Use the spoon to make an indent in the middle, so there's a place for the lemon pudding to go.  Try not to lick the spoon.  It is raw egg after all.  If no one saw me do it, it didn't happen.

Tortes go into a 275 degree oven for one hour.  I have to use both shelves in my oven for this many, so I switch them mid way, otherwise one batch is going to be brown on the bottom.   Then you turn the oven off and let them cool right in there. 

This is the part where you turn on the little ipod shuffle player and do dishes to Hall and Oats,  singing "Your Kiss Is On My List" as loud as you want to.  Who cares if you annoy psycho pants upstairs?  Then you must call your sister to ask about the double boiler.  You only use it once a year, so you don't want to screw anything up.  If she is in the shower you can dance around like a crazy person to "You Make My Dreams Come True", and "Private Eyes" while you wait for her to call you back...................... Oh, and even if you accidentally put the pans the wrong way, you wont screw up the pudding.  Don't ask, just be careful not to burn yourself.

THE PUDDING

Take the egg yolks you were saving, put them in the top of the double boiler.  Beat them up a little bit, then stir in  1/2 cup granulated sugar, and 1/4 cup lemon juice.  Mom used the bottle kind, I use the bottle kind.  This recipe has enough nonsense without squeezin' lemons!  Stir it over the double boiler for 5-8 minutes, until it thickens into pudding.  When I say stir, I mean stand there and stir til your arm falls off, or you are going to have scrambled egg in your pudding.  *gag*

Put the pudding in the fridge to cool.  Some years I have stored the torte shells in a ziploc and made the dessert right at dessert time.  You are really supposed to put it together at least twelve hours before, and my Mom always made them Sat afternoon, which is what I did this time.

Aren't the shells beautiful!?  You are supposed to leave them in the oven to cool, but today I took them out after about a half hour.  "I don't have time for this nonsense."  Then about five minutes later I heard a bunch of cracking noises coming from the kitchen.  It was the tortes!  I whipped them back into the oven and left them there til they were cool.  I guess it's about two hours.  Apparently my Mother wasn't kidding about that part.

Ashlyn, Hannah, and Caitlin were still here when the torte shells were ready, so I let them watch me fill them with pudding, and Hannah helped me with the saran wrap.  (Saran wrap is the devil.)  That's Ashlyn's thumb in the picture.  She loves lemon tortes!  So does Caitlin, she got to lick the spoon and sucked on it for a LONG time. :)  I had a little lick and shivered, because this pudding is SO sour.  It doesn't make much, but you do not need much on these tortes, believe me.

"I notice you have one left Auntie Jo." 

I was one torte short of room on the cookie sheet.  Forget it Ashlyn

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!

For Rent

Well the "For Rent" sign was only up for four days.  I wish I didn't feel like "Oh brother, here we go again." but I know how it goes for the most part.  I just hope whoever it is doesn't have kids.  I don't mind the noise of children, it's a sound I'm quite used to, I'm just concerned about psycho pants and her loud potty mouth in the apartment next door to them. :)  Although my impromptu concert when she started screaming at the top of her lungs on Sunday did shut her up. 

Sunday Mr. Landlord was here several times, he had some dude with him, and I am assuming that's who's moving in.  He also came back in the evening and spent quite a bit of time in the apartment across the way with Vi, then he knocked on psycho pants door and then left.  I'm always glad when it's not me, because, as we have discussed, he creeps me out.  Weeeeeeeelllllll...... Right before I went to bed I walked out into the entryway to put a Netflix in the mail, turned around and saw a note on my door.  That son of a bitch is raising my rent by seventy five dollars.  He didn't even have the decency to call, or knock on the damn door while he was here. 

The note says some bs about expenses, taxes, etc etc.  Come on.  We all know it's because you don't want to fix the electrical problems in this building.  So now you've split the cost between me (works full time, heat at 68, no a.c. and hates fans) and the elderly lady next door. (home full time, on oxygen, heat at 80, and ac running constant in the summer)  Yep, that seems fair.  NOT  Can I do anything about it?  Other than piss and moan, no.  I've watched him work over the years, and if I say a word the rent will climb higher. 

It's a good thing I got new tires on the car, I"m going to be driving it for the rest of my life. 

I didn't want to move until I got my financial self all straight and was making a permanent move, not a move to another apartment.  I could move back to Homecroft and buy the trailer from xhub, but I hate that trailer.  It would be about half the expenses though.  I can't do anything right now, other than the above mentioned piss and moan, because I'm to angry and need to be smart. 

Queenie The Explorer

The urge I get to look into things is usually overpowering.  Whether it's getting to the bottom of a matter, pushing something to the limit  to see how far I can go, or physically monkeying with something.... just to see what will happen. 

This blog title is "Queenie The Explorer" but it turns out more like "Danger Prone Daphne" every time.  I have actually learned my lesson with this one.  At least as far as not touching buttons, knobs, or computer keys, to see what will happen.  There have been to many disasters.  Plus, I'm also the type of person who can just look at something and it will break.  (Those damn laundry doors at my sisters for instance.)  My youngest brother, who is an I.T. guy finally got it through my head to stop monkeying around with the computer when I don't know what I'm doing.  Now I stop and text or call him before I "see what this does."  When I get random messages I don't click on them to see what happens next, because it's never good.  Ever.

As a child I was the one who got into things she shouldn't.  I just couldn't resist the lure of "Don't touch that."  I think the reason was that no one ever stopped to tell me why.  If I can understand why I shouldn't then I don't.  If I'm left to wonder, well....... 

I'm not proud of it, but I have been known to mess with people also, just to see what will happen.  Although I haven't done that in a long time.  It would amuse me to watch them dance to my game.  I have never done that in a relationship though, that is one place where games do not belong.  It was mostly at my old job (YMCA).  Gossipy, nasty people deserve what they get. :)  Anyway, while it honestly never came back to bite me in the butt, it isn't nice to play around with people who aren't to bright.  So I stopped.  Well, maybe I just hang around with smarter people these days.

This whole blog actually came about because I had the opportunity to go exploring the other day.  If you look at a picture of my four plex you will notice windows on the third floor.

Supposedly there is a HUGE attic up there.  There are access doors in both of the upstairs apartments, but they are padlocked shut.  I want to know what is up there in the worst way!

Thursday, on my day off, I was around while the Handymen were working on the apartment.  I ran into the Head Honcho as he pounded the "For Rent" sign into the ground in the front yard.  After I asked just how much trouble I would get into if I moved the sign to the back yard, I asked how much the apartment was going for.  He told me that if I wanted to look at what they had done to it to go ahead up.  They were heading back to the shop, but it was unlocked.  So I did. 
Of course the first thing I notice is that the padlock to the attic is gone.  GONE!  So I run right over and open the door.  What else could I do?  The urge to know is just toooooo compelling.  It is a staircase that curves around, so I had to lean in without touching cobwebs to look.  I couldn't see a foot in front of my face it was so dark.  I didn't want to feel around for a switch, who knows what I might touch.  So I shut the door and went back downstairs to my apartment.

Then the wheels in my head start turning.  The door is open, I have numerous flashlights.  I will be up and back before anyone knows it.  Just WHAT is up there?  Then my saner self took over.  Can you imagine what could happen to you if you go up there?  You could fall through the floor, you could run into something gross, it's just to dark and creepy.  You don't belong there.  Stay out.  The urge to snoop was so strong that I actually removed myself from the situation.  I grabbed my laundry and headed over to Kate's. 

When I got back home the Head Honcho was here again.  I went upstairs, and while we were talking I mentioned that the lock wasn't on the attic door, and I asked him what the heck is up there anyway.  He said that it's just an attic, a huge open space.  However, he didn't offer to show me, and we were right there.  That really made me curious.  Curiosity will not kill the Queen.  Where is Scooby Doo when you need him??