Facebook is a wonderful thing, don’t ya think? It has allowed most of us average, everyday people to connect around the world with people we’ve lost touch with, admired from afar, and with whom we may or may not be related.
Since being on Facebook, I’ve found there are many ways to “connect”. You can make someone your friend (with their approval, of course) with a simple click of the mouse. You may find, via this “friend”, that THEY have friends you may know. In turn, that person can now become YOUR friend. You can peek at the friends of others and longingly gaze at how many friends your friend has and wonder why they, too, are not your friend.
Friends, friends everywhere! How exciting is that? Reach out and (virtually) touch has a new meaning. It’s so simple to collect friends!
Facebook also has business pages, where you can “like” (the old thumbs up) a business and thus become a form of advertisement for said business. I think it’s a very clever marketing idea for small businesses. A lot of large, big name businesses have pages, also. Some of these businesses try to entice a following by offering a little something in exchange for your upwardly pointing thumb.
Facebook also has some cool games, and if you’re lucky enough to not be worried about your “download/upload” percentages because of having satellite internet access, you can play those games, accumulate MORE friends, get cool prizes, etc. You can take weird quizzes about everything from your eye color to one that tells you who you were in a past life.
Celebrities have pages, too, and you can become a fan of just about any celebrity in the world. When you become a fan, you can “invite” others with whom you may be friends to become a fan of your favorite celebrity, too!
So, to the daddy of Selena Gomez … when you look at your daughter’s Facebook fan page and see that my 50-year old husband is a fan of your little girl, please understand this man has a little girl of his own who is a huge fan of your little girl and invited her daddy to become a fan, too, and - probably much like yourself - he just couldn’t say “no”.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
The Grassy Knoll
November 22, 1963 ~ where were you?
Most of us remember this date, and even if you weren't alive then, you'd be familiar enough with history to know it's the date that President Kennedy was assassinated.
September 22, 2009 ~ where were you?
Just because fewer people would be familiar with THIS date, does not make it any less important or significant. I can tell you exactly where I was on that date - in a hospital awaiting the birth of my first grandchild.
My only child - Lauren - was due to give birth to a little baby girl. How exciting! Since babies are born every minute of every day, this shouldn't be too hard, right? Her labor was "scheduled" to be induced on this date, and when she came into the hospital, she had already been having contractions. Along with her were her sweet husband and her in-laws, who had come all the way from Wisconsin to celebrate the birth of THEIR first grandchild, too. We expected that grandbaby to be delivered shortly and with a minimum amount of difficulty for all.
We were wrong.
Our precious little grandbaby was presented to the world weighing a little over 10 pounds. TEN POUNDS. No "newborn" clothes for little Elina! In fact, the nursery couldn't find a gown to fit her. A whoppin' baby girl ... healthy, beautiful, and a blessing!
Sounds simple, huh? Well, it wasn't. I would not by any means call this an easy delivery. After a long, hard, tiring labor, my little girl was taken to surgery to have a cesarean birth. When Elina was born, she had what was called a "wind-swept" foot. What that means is that she just didn't have room inside of her little mom to grow, and her foot was kind of pointed out and upward. She was fitted with a little cast on her foot, which she wore for a few months after her birth (the cast is gone now, and Elina's foot seems to be fine).
In addition to the issue of having to take Elina to an orthopaedic doc before they could even bring her home, her mom and dad were in the process of moving. Not just an ordinary move, either ... a move into a house that needed a HUGE amount of work before they could move into it.
And to add to all that ... Elina's mom was going into her last year of college while also doing an internship at a women's shelter.
So while it's "happy birthday, Elina", it's also a celebration of a mom and dad who have both worked very hard and against a huge amount of odds to start their own family and are successful!
I've heard that the best thing a parent can witness is the birth of a grandchild, but I'd go further than that and say that it's not only the birth of a grandchild, but seeing your OWN child grow and become a wonderful parent on their own.
Everyone has a "grassy knoll" experience ... and it's different for us all.
Most of us remember this date, and even if you weren't alive then, you'd be familiar enough with history to know it's the date that President Kennedy was assassinated.
September 22, 2009 ~ where were you?
Just because fewer people would be familiar with THIS date, does not make it any less important or significant. I can tell you exactly where I was on that date - in a hospital awaiting the birth of my first grandchild.
My only child - Lauren - was due to give birth to a little baby girl. How exciting! Since babies are born every minute of every day, this shouldn't be too hard, right? Her labor was "scheduled" to be induced on this date, and when she came into the hospital, she had already been having contractions. Along with her were her sweet husband and her in-laws, who had come all the way from Wisconsin to celebrate the birth of THEIR first grandchild, too. We expected that grandbaby to be delivered shortly and with a minimum amount of difficulty for all.
We were wrong.
Our precious little grandbaby was presented to the world weighing a little over 10 pounds. TEN POUNDS. No "newborn" clothes for little Elina! In fact, the nursery couldn't find a gown to fit her. A whoppin' baby girl ... healthy, beautiful, and a blessing!
Sounds simple, huh? Well, it wasn't. I would not by any means call this an easy delivery. After a long, hard, tiring labor, my little girl was taken to surgery to have a cesarean birth. When Elina was born, she had what was called a "wind-swept" foot. What that means is that she just didn't have room inside of her little mom to grow, and her foot was kind of pointed out and upward. She was fitted with a little cast on her foot, which she wore for a few months after her birth (the cast is gone now, and Elina's foot seems to be fine).
In addition to the issue of having to take Elina to an orthopaedic doc before they could even bring her home, her mom and dad were in the process of moving. Not just an ordinary move, either ... a move into a house that needed a HUGE amount of work before they could move into it.
And to add to all that ... Elina's mom was going into her last year of college while also doing an internship at a women's shelter.
I've heard that the best thing a parent can witness is the birth of a grandchild, but I'd go further than that and say that it's not only the birth of a grandchild, but seeing your OWN child grow and become a wonderful parent on their own.
Everyone has a "grassy knoll" experience ... and it's different for us all.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Tater Salad
I made some Saturday - tater salad, that is.
Depending on where in this country you claim to have been born, you might say "poe-tay-toe" salad. Had I pronounced the word as "poe-tay-toe", I would probably have been called "uppity". After all, if "tater" was good enough for my grandfather, it should be good enough for me.
My grandfather LOVED taters - mashed taters, fried taters, baked taters, and even bald taters (yep, bald - as in bald eggs, bald water ...). My family had lots of taters in its background. Being from southwest Virginia, I figured that had to do with the family's somewhat Arsh roots (that would be Eye-rish to some). My grandfather also loved bisskits, which one of my cousins declared were made from flare. Is it any wonder I talk strangely??
Back to tater salad ... during all my adult years as a gourmet chef (ok, just an average cook!) I've had the chance to connect with the virtual world of recipes and found that there have to be at least 1,423,785 recipes for tater salad. Well, maybe not that many, but you get the general idea, and I had NO idea that such thought went into the variety of ingredients with which one would/could use to make plain ole tater salad. My grandfather would have been flabbergasted ... or worse. He probably would have wondered what in the heck my mom-ma had put on his plate and refuse to eat it. I must confess here that I NEVER called my grandfather "grandfather" ... he was always pop-pa. Which you've probably already guessed since my grandmother was mom-ma.
It's hard for me to separate tater salad and my love for tater salad from my family roots. In other words, I haven't used nor do I think I'll ever use a recipe for poe-tay-toe salad. I don't measure out ingredients and I don't use herbs or vegetables whose name I can't pronounce. I cut up a pan full of taters, cook 'em til they're done, and add stuff like Miracle Whip, a little onion, some celery, sweet pickles, a mater (if I have one - and that might be a toe-may-toe to some), toss it around and sprinkle on some salt and pepper. Every once in a while I get a wild hair and throw in some dill to change things up a little. I've never had complaints, so I figure I'm doing ok making it without the benefit of a recipe.
NOW ... if I could only figure out what kind of flare my cousin used to make her excellent bisskits ... I've already ruled out petunias.
Depending on where in this country you claim to have been born, you might say "poe-tay-toe" salad. Had I pronounced the word as "poe-tay-toe", I would probably have been called "uppity". After all, if "tater" was good enough for my grandfather, it should be good enough for me.
My grandfather LOVED taters - mashed taters, fried taters, baked taters, and even bald taters (yep, bald - as in bald eggs, bald water ...). My family had lots of taters in its background. Being from southwest Virginia, I figured that had to do with the family's somewhat Arsh roots (that would be Eye-rish to some). My grandfather also loved bisskits, which one of my cousins declared were made from flare. Is it any wonder I talk strangely??
Back to tater salad ... during all my adult years as a gourmet chef (ok, just an average cook!) I've had the chance to connect with the virtual world of recipes and found that there have to be at least 1,423,785 recipes for tater salad. Well, maybe not that many, but you get the general idea, and I had NO idea that such thought went into the variety of ingredients with which one would/could use to make plain ole tater salad. My grandfather would have been flabbergasted ... or worse. He probably would have wondered what in the heck my mom-ma had put on his plate and refuse to eat it. I must confess here that I NEVER called my grandfather "grandfather" ... he was always pop-pa. Which you've probably already guessed since my grandmother was mom-ma.
It's hard for me to separate tater salad and my love for tater salad from my family roots. In other words, I haven't used nor do I think I'll ever use a recipe for poe-tay-toe salad. I don't measure out ingredients and I don't use herbs or vegetables whose name I can't pronounce. I cut up a pan full of taters, cook 'em til they're done, and add stuff like Miracle Whip, a little onion, some celery, sweet pickles, a mater (if I have one - and that might be a toe-may-toe to some), toss it around and sprinkle on some salt and pepper. Every once in a while I get a wild hair and throw in some dill to change things up a little. I've never had complaints, so I figure I'm doing ok making it without the benefit of a recipe.
NOW ... if I could only figure out what kind of flare my cousin used to make her excellent bisskits ... I've already ruled out petunias.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
More Beginnings ...
I was born a poor black child ...
Not really. That's a line from an excellent movie. It's also not true that I have confessions. Or that I am a "country" wife.
I AM a wife. Maybe I can throw some random confessions in from time to time to keep things lively.
How did I get here? Other than the obvious way of being born to human parents at some point long past.
I was born in Abingdon, VA in 1958. Now I will soon turn 52 and live in Rapidan, VA. And there's a whole lot of stuff in between.
I am married to a man I consider to be my closest friend. This is my 3rd marriage ... yep, 3. YOU can count 'em - because I try to forget the first 2. All I can say is that I haven't always been good at picking out men with whom I have relationships. I thank my first husband for my lovely daughter - she's always been a joy to me during some pretty bad times in my life, and she still is a joy. I thank my second husband for ... making me a smarter woman.
My HUSBAND - Calvin - is how I ended up in Rapidan. This is the place in which he grew up. He inherited the home after the death of his mother in 2009. It's been quite an adventure moving into another woman's home and trying to make it "ours". These adventures (or misadventures, as I sometimes call them) may be related periodically. I sure don't want to divulge everything at once and mess up the curiosity factor!
I have a beautiful 24 year old daughter, who is married to a great man and they have my only grandchild - a little angel who will turn a year old on September 22. I have 2 stepdaughters who are 16 and 9 (going on 18!) who visit us every other weekend. Lots of girls in my family! I just love girls ... not in a weird way. They add so much to life and I love seeing all of them grow and become the people they were meant to be.
Calvin & I recently added to our family - we got a dawg. Or a doug. THIS is the only other male in our family - Calvin needed some male companionship! He's a yorkie-poo named Aladdin, and he follows Calvin everywhere. EVERY where. Into the bathroom, out the door, down the hall, into the kitchen ... you get the idea. I've gotta say Calvin has a LOT more patience with the dawg than do I. But Calvin loves his dawg. Or doug (this is how his mom pronounced the word, so we keep saying we should've named Aladdin "Doug" the dawg ... OK, ya had to be there.)
This is just a light skim off the top of the surface leading to the many layers that is my life, my experiences, and my beginnings that led me to where I am now.
And remember ... eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
Not really. That's a line from an excellent movie. It's also not true that I have confessions. Or that I am a "country" wife.
I AM a wife. Maybe I can throw some random confessions in from time to time to keep things lively.
How did I get here? Other than the obvious way of being born to human parents at some point long past.
I was born in Abingdon, VA in 1958. Now I will soon turn 52 and live in Rapidan, VA. And there's a whole lot of stuff in between.
I am married to a man I consider to be my closest friend. This is my 3rd marriage ... yep, 3. YOU can count 'em - because I try to forget the first 2. All I can say is that I haven't always been good at picking out men with whom I have relationships. I thank my first husband for my lovely daughter - she's always been a joy to me during some pretty bad times in my life, and she still is a joy. I thank my second husband for ... making me a smarter woman.
My HUSBAND - Calvin - is how I ended up in Rapidan. This is the place in which he grew up. He inherited the home after the death of his mother in 2009. It's been quite an adventure moving into another woman's home and trying to make it "ours". These adventures (or misadventures, as I sometimes call them) may be related periodically. I sure don't want to divulge everything at once and mess up the curiosity factor!
I have a beautiful 24 year old daughter, who is married to a great man and they have my only grandchild - a little angel who will turn a year old on September 22. I have 2 stepdaughters who are 16 and 9 (going on 18!) who visit us every other weekend. Lots of girls in my family! I just love girls ... not in a weird way. They add so much to life and I love seeing all of them grow and become the people they were meant to be.
Calvin & I recently added to our family - we got a dawg. Or a doug. THIS is the only other male in our family - Calvin needed some male companionship! He's a yorkie-poo named Aladdin, and he follows Calvin everywhere. EVERY where. Into the bathroom, out the door, down the hall, into the kitchen ... you get the idea. I've gotta say Calvin has a LOT more patience with the dawg than do I. But Calvin loves his dawg. Or doug (this is how his mom pronounced the word, so we keep saying we should've named Aladdin "Doug" the dawg ... OK, ya had to be there.)
This is just a light skim off the top of the surface leading to the many layers that is my life, my experiences, and my beginnings that led me to where I am now.
And remember ... eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Beginnings ...
This may not be the best time for me to be starting a "blog". Living in the outposts of the backwoods known as Rapidan, VA does not allow much in the way of modern technology as related to Internet access. Currently, my husband & I use a satellite company for this - and it was very recently rudely interrupted due to us wanting to - get this! - access the internet at will. Seems that satellite companies have a "Fair Access" kinda policy that severely limits the amount of time we can actually access the airwaves. Soooo, in his ever diligent search to come up with alternative means for us to be on the cutting edge of technology, my husband found that our cell phone provider has a gadget that we can plug into the USB port of our computer(s) and we can access the internet that way. What a relief!
The relief was short-lived. Even though the big-name reputable cell phone provider assured my husband that we could access up to 5 computers with this gadget, it appears that this information was somewhat of a sales ploy to entice us into lusting for the gadget. Oh yeah, we can use the device for multiple computers ... just one at a time.
We have 3 computers in our home. I have a nice big honkin' desktop, and there is a desktop (not as big OR honkin' as mine!) downstairs. My husband has a cool laptop that he likes to carry around to various places with him. When my stepdaughters come to visit, they both have laptops also. This does, indeed, mean that at some times we have 5 computers going. It seems that having 3-5 computers will suck the life out of the amount of "fair access" we are allowed. OK, so we will have to learn to adjust.
I consider myself a flexible person, but I came from the CITY where we had (gasp!) cable access to internet. Before we were in the CITY, we were in a semi-small town where we had DSL. Heck, when I first got a computer and learned about the huge cyber world, I had dial-up, which even though slow and poky, didn't limit the amount of time I could spend on the computer. Yep, folks complained about my phone line being tied up all the time - so I got a dedicated phone line for the computer.
NOW almost 15 years after that first dial-up experience, modern technology has not extended to the bowels of Virginia. Yes, I may be an hour from Washington, DC, 45 minutes from Charlottesville, VA, and an hour an a half from Richmond, but it's still the middle of nowhere.
I'm happy to live in a beautiful area of Virginia. I really am happy about that. I'd be a lot happier with DSL ... or FiOS ... or cable ... anything but satellite!
Looking forward to writing about a city woman's (mis)adventures as a country wife ...
The relief was short-lived. Even though the big-name reputable cell phone provider assured my husband that we could access up to 5 computers with this gadget, it appears that this information was somewhat of a sales ploy to entice us into lusting for the gadget. Oh yeah, we can use the device for multiple computers ... just one at a time.
We have 3 computers in our home. I have a nice big honkin' desktop, and there is a desktop (not as big OR honkin' as mine!) downstairs. My husband has a cool laptop that he likes to carry around to various places with him. When my stepdaughters come to visit, they both have laptops also. This does, indeed, mean that at some times we have 5 computers going. It seems that having 3-5 computers will suck the life out of the amount of "fair access" we are allowed. OK, so we will have to learn to adjust.
I consider myself a flexible person, but I came from the CITY where we had (gasp!) cable access to internet. Before we were in the CITY, we were in a semi-small town where we had DSL. Heck, when I first got a computer and learned about the huge cyber world, I had dial-up, which even though slow and poky, didn't limit the amount of time I could spend on the computer. Yep, folks complained about my phone line being tied up all the time - so I got a dedicated phone line for the computer.
NOW almost 15 years after that first dial-up experience, modern technology has not extended to the bowels of Virginia. Yes, I may be an hour from Washington, DC, 45 minutes from Charlottesville, VA, and an hour an a half from Richmond, but it's still the middle of nowhere.
I'm happy to live in a beautiful area of Virginia. I really am happy about that. I'd be a lot happier with DSL ... or FiOS ... or cable ... anything but satellite!
Looking forward to writing about a city woman's (mis)adventures as a country wife ...
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