I've moved my blog to lovingsixtyfive.wordpress.com
Same sort of content but a jazzier site. Will be taking wordpress classes on how to really razzle dazzle my (soon to be) jillions and zillions of readers. Exciting, eh?
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
Sunday, April 2, 2017
I screwed up my cookie baking, and this is good because....
I really screwed up my last batch of chocolate chip cookies. This was SO wrong. Once upon a time I had amazing cookie baking tricks and a reputation to maintain. After a while baking chocolate chippers was like riding a bike. They were always awesome...
Until they weren't.
On March first I made our neighbor Brian, a batch of my Toll House cookies for his twentieth birthday. I've made them for him regularly and successfully in the nearly four years we've lived here.
But on March first something went horribly wrong. The cookies ran together in a big mushy mess. I managed to scrape them onto wire cooling racks, whereupon the middles dripped through the wires to the counter below. They were a dismal embarrassing failure.
I blamed it on humidity. I blamed it on the oven, the ingredients, the alignment of the stars. I blamed it on everything but human error. (ie myself)
I should have started over. Instead I chose to go with, "Well, it's the thought that counts!" When I was able to kinda' sorta' move from racks to platter I displayed the least unfortunate ones on top. Brian ate them without complaint, but Brian is twenty. Twenty year old boys eat everything without complaint.
Meanwhile my daughter, Mo---the cookie baking hot-shot show off---keeps posting Instagram photos of her baking products. Snickerdoodles, Toll House, Oatmeal Raisin, chocolate ones with sinfully delicious looking chunks. The pictures show perfectly browned, uniform French-bakery-shop-worthy beauties.
How is this possible? I'm the cookie person in this family, dammit.
Finally I broke down and confessed I had lost the touch. I asked Mo for advice.
"Are you using a cookie scoop, Mom?" .....huh?
"What about silpad matts?"....and those are? My ears translated that as "thilfad", then "willgab". She finally spelled it out "Stephen, Igloo, Lady, Patio, Alice, Deaf."
"Do you have half sheets?" This one I actually knew about from Ina Garten.
"Furthermore it's best to weigh ingredients rather than measure by cups---flour settles. A cup isn't always a cup. Oh by the way the best temperature is generally 360 degrees other than for chocolate chip" ....again, huh?
All in all I figured out I really don't know squat about cookie baking.
Immediately went to Amazon---bought the aforementioned scoop and silpads.
Today I decided to dive back into the cookie dough. Didn't have ingredients for chocolate chips, plus still too cowed by my recent failure.
Made peanut butter cookies instead. Even snuck some of Jim's closely guarded Dove Dark Chocolate mini candies. The results? Not bad. Not as gorgeous as Mo's though. Guess my next purchase is a scale for weighing the flour I can't eat. Celiac Sprue, no gluten allowed....which is a good thing because I shouldn't be eating cookies anyhow.
Check out these yummy confections. Yay me! No they aren't as uniform as Mo's, but I'm a beginner.
Until they weren't.
On March first I made our neighbor Brian, a batch of my Toll House cookies for his twentieth birthday. I've made them for him regularly and successfully in the nearly four years we've lived here.
But on March first something went horribly wrong. The cookies ran together in a big mushy mess. I managed to scrape them onto wire cooling racks, whereupon the middles dripped through the wires to the counter below. They were a dismal embarrassing failure.
I blamed it on humidity. I blamed it on the oven, the ingredients, the alignment of the stars. I blamed it on everything but human error. (ie myself)
I should have started over. Instead I chose to go with, "Well, it's the thought that counts!" When I was able to kinda' sorta' move from racks to platter I displayed the least unfortunate ones on top. Brian ate them without complaint, but Brian is twenty. Twenty year old boys eat everything without complaint.
Meanwhile my daughter, Mo---the cookie baking hot-shot show off---keeps posting Instagram photos of her baking products. Snickerdoodles, Toll House, Oatmeal Raisin, chocolate ones with sinfully delicious looking chunks. The pictures show perfectly browned, uniform French-bakery-shop-worthy beauties.
How is this possible? I'm the cookie person in this family, dammit.
Finally I broke down and confessed I had lost the touch. I asked Mo for advice.
"Are you using a cookie scoop, Mom?" .....huh?
"What about silpad matts?"....and those are? My ears translated that as "thilfad", then "willgab". She finally spelled it out "Stephen, Igloo, Lady, Patio, Alice, Deaf."
"Do you have half sheets?" This one I actually knew about from Ina Garten.
"Furthermore it's best to weigh ingredients rather than measure by cups---flour settles. A cup isn't always a cup. Oh by the way the best temperature is generally 360 degrees other than for chocolate chip" ....again, huh?
All in all I figured out I really don't know squat about cookie baking.
Immediately went to Amazon---bought the aforementioned scoop and silpads.
Today I decided to dive back into the cookie dough. Didn't have ingredients for chocolate chips, plus still too cowed by my recent failure.
Made peanut butter cookies instead. Even snuck some of Jim's closely guarded Dove Dark Chocolate mini candies. The results? Not bad. Not as gorgeous as Mo's though. Guess my next purchase is a scale for weighing the flour I can't eat. Celiac Sprue, no gluten allowed....which is a good thing because I shouldn't be eating cookies anyhow.
Check out these yummy confections. Yay me! No they aren't as uniform as Mo's, but I'm a beginner.
I took them to the Brian. He dove into the chocolate topped cookies first. My next
cookie baking extravaganza will be Mo's recommended salted peanut butter cookies. Find the recipe on smittenkitchen They are gluten free. Eeek....that could be a problem.
c
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Learning to Drive
When I was thirteen my father decided I should learn to drive. We had a 1959 Renault named "Fifi." Fifi was adorable. Three speed. She had a bit of trouble on an incline, but who cares.
Daddy drove us to the duPont Louviers parking lot on a weekend. The lot was empty.
Then he had me take the drivers seat and calmly explained how to manage the manual transmission. I lurched and stalled all over the lot.
But eventually I got it~That's when I became dangerous. Mother and Daddy would go to a party, I'd steal Fifi and go joy riding. Good new, that. It made stalking Carl Jacobson even easier.
I loved that car! By the time I had a legal license I drove her to school daily. Best friend Nora always knew when Fifi and I were half a block from picking her up. Fifi was marvelously loud.
I cut school in Fifi. Went to Washington, D.C. with my High School boyfriend, Greg. He was a terrible first boyfriend. (There won't be more about him on this blog since my blog is all about channeling positive energy. Negative energy Greg blocked from my brain.)
Once, while riding down the Main Street with Gina Jackson, we actually traded seats at the speed of 30 miles an hour! She climbed over me from passenger side to drivers while I crawled under her. Happily we didn't crash.
Gina's car was a NEW blue opal. Her Dad worked for a car company so she got new cars all the time. She later got a bright orange brand new Vega. My daddy believed in used cars. "They depreciate by a third the minute you drive them off the lot." Mostly what he said I believed.
Upon college graduation my parents offered to buy me my very own first car. I looked at loads, Daddy stated, "They are all yours until you buy one". He was pushing me toward a canary yellow Karmann Ghia.
Instead I chose Gina's now used orange Vega. What a dope...hard to come up with a "....but that's good because" about an orange Vega.
Karmann Ghia above. Cute huh? Even cuter in canary yellow.
Orange Vega, not so much.
Another friend drove a 1950's Mercedes Benz. This was in 1969. The back seat was loose. Everytime she hit the brakes all of us back there would be slammed into the rear side of front seat.
Her parents had added a big odd air-conditioning unit between passenger and driver. No other friend I knew had automobile a/c. Very plush.
My sister's first car after college was a 1965 navy blue Chevy, Malibu. I wrecked it while singing along to "Gitarzan" and fooling around with a car full of kids. Daddy replaced it with a 1969 Cutlass 442.
He was such a cowboy in a muscle car. His favorite muscle car activity was pulling to the side of the road, standing on the accelerator and counting how fast that buggy got from zero to sixty. When he leaned on the 442's gas the whole front of the car lifted into the air.
I was forbidden from driving it. I suppose wrecking my sister's first car played a part in that. So I back to tooling around in Fifi.
Remember the song "Gitarzan?" Lyrics follow---climb into your vintage car and sing your lungs out!! You're welcome.
Daddy drove us to the duPont Louviers parking lot on a weekend. The lot was empty.
Then he had me take the drivers seat and calmly explained how to manage the manual transmission. I lurched and stalled all over the lot.
But eventually I got it~That's when I became dangerous. Mother and Daddy would go to a party, I'd steal Fifi and go joy riding. Good new, that. It made stalking Carl Jacobson even easier.
I loved that car! By the time I had a legal license I drove her to school daily. Best friend Nora always knew when Fifi and I were half a block from picking her up. Fifi was marvelously loud.
I cut school in Fifi. Went to Washington, D.C. with my High School boyfriend, Greg. He was a terrible first boyfriend. (There won't be more about him on this blog since my blog is all about channeling positive energy. Negative energy Greg blocked from my brain.)
Once, while riding down the Main Street with Gina Jackson, we actually traded seats at the speed of 30 miles an hour! She climbed over me from passenger side to drivers while I crawled under her. Happily we didn't crash.
Gina's car was a NEW blue opal. Her Dad worked for a car company so she got new cars all the time. She later got a bright orange brand new Vega. My daddy believed in used cars. "They depreciate by a third the minute you drive them off the lot." Mostly what he said I believed.
Upon college graduation my parents offered to buy me my very own first car. I looked at loads, Daddy stated, "They are all yours until you buy one". He was pushing me toward a canary yellow Karmann Ghia.
Instead I chose Gina's now used orange Vega. What a dope...hard to come up with a "....but that's good because" about an orange Vega.
Karmann Ghia above. Cute huh? Even cuter in canary yellow.
Orange Vega, not so much.
Another friend drove a 1950's Mercedes Benz. This was in 1969. The back seat was loose. Everytime she hit the brakes all of us back there would be slammed into the rear side of front seat.
Her parents had added a big odd air-conditioning unit between passenger and driver. No other friend I knew had automobile a/c. Very plush.
He was such a cowboy in a muscle car. His favorite muscle car activity was pulling to the side of the road, standing on the accelerator and counting how fast that buggy got from zero to sixty. When he leaned on the 442's gas the whole front of the car lifted into the air.
I was forbidden from driving it. I suppose wrecking my sister's first car played a part in that. So I back to tooling around in Fifi.
Remember the song "Gitarzan?" Lyrics follow---climb into your vintage car and sing your lungs out!! You're welcome.
Search Results
He's free as the breeze
He's always at ease
He lives in the jungle and hangs by his knees
As he swings through the trees
With a trapeze in his B.V.D.s
He's got a union card and he's practicing hard
To play, the guitar, gonna be a big star
Yeah, he's gonna go far
And carry moonbeams home in a jar
He ordered Chet's guitar course C.O.D.
Like A and E and he's working on be
Big W&W and R&B and even the chimpanzees agree
That someday soon he'll be a celebrity
Get it, get it, get it.
He's always at ease
He lives in the jungle and hangs by his knees
As he swings through the trees
With a trapeze in his B.V.D.s
He's got a union card and he's practicing hard
To play, the guitar, gonna be a big star
Yeah, he's gonna go far
And carry moonbeams home in a jar
He ordered Chet's guitar course C.O.D.
Like A and E and he's working on be
Big W&W and R&B and even the chimpanzees agree
That someday soon he'll be a celebrity
Get it, get it, get it.
Gitarzan, he's a gitar man
He's all you can stand
Give him a hand, gitarzan
He's all you can stand
Give him a hand, gitarzan
He's got a girl named Jane
With no last name
Kinda homely and plain
But he loves her just the same
Cause she kindles the flame
And it drives him insane
When he hears her say
She really does her thing
It's her claim to fame
Come on sing one Jane
Baby, baby, oh baby
Baby, oh baby
(How about that folks)
With no last name
Kinda homely and plain
But he loves her just the same
Cause she kindles the flame
And it drives him insane
When he hears her say
She really does her thing
It's her claim to fame
Come on sing one Jane
Baby, baby, oh baby
Baby, oh baby
(How about that folks)
Friday, March 31, 2017
Happy Birthday Dear Jimmy
Jim's son, Jason, made the decision to fly in for the day and surprise his dad. I wanted to save the "kid" (in his 40's) cab fare so offered to pick him up at the airport. Needed to keep his visit a secret so told Jim we were picking up a friend.
"Who?" he asked.
"Charki. And she's flying in on Southwest, landing in Tampa." That was the first friend who popped into my brain. Charki lives 45 minutes south of us in St. Petersburg. Charki is a retired United Airlines employee. Naturally she always flies United because it's free for her.
Happily, Jim didn't pick up on that odd bit. Rather lovely to be married to a vaguely obtuse man.
We boogied to airport at about 3 p.m. "Charki" was to land at 3:50. Parked in the cell phone lot and began watching the giant light up board for arriving flights. The plane departed from Midway, Chicago. NO Chicago flights are on the electronic sign.
Jim begins to grill me, "Are you SURE it's coming into Tampa? And you SURE it's not St. Pete."
"Yup, I'm certain."
Five minutes roll by and again he says, "Are you certain? There are no Chicago flights on the board. I think you should call Doug!" (her husband)
"Don't have his number" Lie lie lie
"Then call (mutual friends) Brookie and Earl. Get Doug's number. And
what's the flight number? You should always get the flight number!"
I cannot call from my phone. The call would have been broadcast loudly from my bluetooth, which I have no idea how to disable because that would require reading the manual. I don't do manuals, I just pound on buttons and turn knobs until (maybe) something works out.
Texted B and E saying, "I'll be calling, please play along." Then I called. Hooray, neither picked up.
Emailed Jason, "DO NOT TEXT OR CALL ME WHEN YOU LAND. (damn Bluetooth again)
" JUST EMAIL. And, oh by the way, are you landing in Tampa?" (Please please please be landing in Tampa or I'm toast.)
By now my normally rarely-wants-to-murder-me husband is fuming. No Chicago flights on Big Board. No way to reach Charki. And furthermore, why did Charki not fly directly to St. Pete where she lives?
At long last Jason emailed, "On the ground. Will be standing at Southwest arrival wearing plaid shirt and red back pack."
"Hooray Jimmy, Charki landed. She will be wearing plaid. And a red back pack."
That bit caught Jim's ear....Charki, in plaid? Charki is known for crisp white shirts, flowy scarves, hip jewelry, cute color coordinated cross body bags. When he pointed out the curiousness of this I simply said, "She likes plaid for flying." Seems I've easily grown into being a big fat liar.
Cruised along arrival area until I spotted Jason. Jim, looking keenly for Charki in her unique new ensemble, never noticed Jason until he pounded on the driver side window. The look on Jim's face was worth all the lying, sweating, fretting and enormous anxiety attack.
Secret kept! Cloak and dagger stuff accomplished. Marriage survived! Yay. Altogether great day.
Plus neighbor Lynda baked him an awesome Girl Scout Thin Mints birthday cake. That's it in the photo. 5 candles, one for every fourteen years. Needed a calculator to figure it out. :) Just to be sure I counted it out with my hoof.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
My first attempts at scarves were really weird. 12 inches wide in spots, 4 inches in other places. But that didn't stop me from handing these odd things out to friends. One was so heavy and thick I think my buddy had to crawl because it dragged her to the ground.
I only knit in the car. Jim and I take long road trips. He hates the way I drive. I hate the way he drives right back. He follows too closely causing me to have to press the imaginary brake in the passenger seat footwell.
I took up knitting so I am looking down when he's driving. Eyes on the needles! We're both happier that way.
I suppose he hates my driving because I'm quite a bad driver. I never knew it until a whole lot of people informed me. I'm slow. Hands nervously at two and ten. I bought myself a darling Mini Cooper in 2005. I chose the fastest engine, manual transmission, British racing green and SO CUTE. That fast engine was totally wasted on me. I probably never drove that puppy over 55 mph. I swore I'd NEVER sell my Mini---her name was Maude.
Then, much to Jim's dismay, I opted to trade her in for a Mini Van. Baby blue, Honda Odyssey named Stella. We travel with our beloved dog, Bronson. More about him in future posts. I wanted him to have comfort.
The day we mini van shopped Jim brought along Maude's title. He swore he'd only mini van shop ONCE, so we'd better damn well find the right car that day.
Well, he was wrong. We mini van shopped twice. I traded Stella in for a newer, slicker model. Gracie. She's gray. Creative, eh? She has a little refrigerator in the front seat. And she has a fine brake in the footwell of the passenger side. :)
We'll take Gracie to Chicago in August. I'll be knitting. Anyone want a scarf? I've gotten better! Rarely drop stitches, but still add patches and buttons for fun. All my new friends are Floridians. I need some cold weather victims. LMK if your neck needs warming up.
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
How to post comments on my blog
I asked someone young--they always know this technical stuff.
What you do is click at the bottom of the blog post on the words "No Comments". Voila a box pops open and you can post your little hearts out. Yay!
No on to find a photo of a 1960s hair dryer. The gum snapper had no clue what they look like.
What you do is click at the bottom of the blog post on the words "No Comments". Voila a box pops open and you can post your little hearts out. Yay!
No on to find a photo of a 1960s hair dryer. The gum snapper had no clue what they look like.
Here is more great stuff about being sixty five!
Being sixty five is good because I now get Medicare, who doesn't like to save at the Doctors office?
Geriatric stuff will soon be advertised on my old peoples blog ---Stuff like Cialis. I love that name "Cialis".
In my brain I spell it "See Alice." tee hee.
Here is a list of great stuff for us oldies.
Geriatric stuff will soon be advertised on my old peoples blog ---Stuff like Cialis. I love that name "Cialis".
In my brain I spell it "See Alice." tee hee.
Here is a list of great stuff for us oldies.
Discounted Memberships, Travel, Entertainment, and More: Numerous clubs, retail stores, hotels, restaurants, and other organizations that begin their discount programs at 65 years old. Here is a very short list of a few.
· Boston Market offers 10% off
LOVE BOSTON MARKET
· Taco Bell offers 5% off and/or a free beverage
· Rite Aid offers a 25% discount off the first Wednesday of each month
I don't think we have Rite Aid here in Q-tip country. We Floridians are called Q-tips because to the drivers behind us we look like little fluffy white blobs, our heads barely above the head rest.
· Alaska Airlines offer 10% off
· American Airlines offers several discounts
· InterContinental Hotels Group offers various discounts
· Southwest Airlines offers many discounts
· United Airlines offers numerous discounts
(I had no idea! We always fly United. Hopefully the discounts include terrific things like money and sparkly stuff.)
· U.S. Airways offers varied discounts The next few are blah blah blah saving.....If they help you, yay you...As for me, shrug and fuggetabout it.
· Carmike Cinemas offers 35% off
· AT&T offers their special Senior Nation 200 Plan for $29.99 a month
· Verizon Wireless offers their Verizon Nationwide 65 Plus Plan for $29.99 a month
· AARP Membership Discounts – Membership is only $16 a year and worth it for the discounts you can get.
Okee Dokee all you big money advertising folk---time to find my blog and make me rich and famous. I know you will. It's just a matter of time.
LOVE BOSTON MARKET
· Taco Bell offers 5% off and/or a free beverage
· Rite Aid offers a 25% discount off the first Wednesday of each month
I don't think we have Rite Aid here in Q-tip country. We Floridians are called Q-tips because to the drivers behind us we look like little fluffy white blobs, our heads barely above the head rest.
· Alaska Airlines offer 10% off
· American Airlines offers several discounts
· InterContinental Hotels Group offers various discounts
· Southwest Airlines offers many discounts
· United Airlines offers numerous discounts
(I had no idea! We always fly United. Hopefully the discounts include terrific things like money and sparkly stuff.)
· U.S. Airways offers varied discounts The next few are blah blah blah saving.....If they help you, yay you...As for me, shrug and fuggetabout it.
· Carmike Cinemas offers 35% off
· AT&T offers their special Senior Nation 200 Plan for $29.99 a month
· Verizon Wireless offers their Verizon Nationwide 65 Plus Plan for $29.99 a month
· AARP Membership Discounts – Membership is only $16 a year and worth it for the discounts you can get.
Okee Dokee all you big money advertising folk---time to find my blog and make me rich and famous. I know you will. It's just a matter of time.
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