FIVE FOR FRIDAY! (EASTER EDITION!)

 This post was previously published on April 19, 2019.

Good morning all!

So Sunday is Easter, which means if you celebrate Easter, you're probably spending a good part of today looking for that bottle of white vinegar that you "KNOW" you bought last year for egg coloring.

Easter, possibly more than most holidays, has some odd traditions. Much like chili recipes, holiday traditions vary from family to family and I'm sure it's no shock that my family has some distinct, odd, ways to celebrate our risen Savior.  (Because, remember, Easter is a religious celebration...which makes the whole rabbit thing a head scratcher for me.)

Here are my family's top 5 Easter traditions:

5)  Sunrise Church

I understand that Lent is the season of preparation and sacrifice. And I also understand that those of us who give things up for Lent are eager to get a jump on eating/drinking/doing whatever it is we gave up.  That said, who came up with Easter Sunrise Service?

For those of you not familiar, this is the Easter practice where the first service (and most popular) of Easter Sunday typical kicks off at some ungodly hour, like 6 AM.  Or maybe 7 AM (when I was a teacher in a parochial school, the pastor said, "Sunrise can happen at any time in the rest of the world, but here sunrise is 7 AM.")  Either way, it's early.  EARLY.  My earliest and most vivid memories of Easter involve NOT getting watch "Emergency" the night before (because it aired at 8 PM and that would keep us kids up until 9 PM EST and getting us up for 6 AM church would then be impossible. So we actually wound up going to bed when it was still light out. Oh yeah, we fell asleep RIGHT AWAY.  Also, my parents took that extra time to hide the eggs. And, since we weren't asleep, there was a lot of yelling.  But I'll get to that later.)  Also, getting up that early, my mother was not...at her best.  Not a coffee drinker, my mother could only rely on her natural energy to get her into a day.  Prepping two kids for church at 5 AM (Because my parents sang in the choir, we had to be there even earlier) my mom had a tendency to be a touch...um...grumpy.  Heaven help my brother and me if we inadvertently found an Easter egg while gulping down a bowl of cereal. That would ignite a howl from my mother.  "STOP LOOKING FOR EGGS WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE FOR CHURCH!"

Of course, once I was a parent, I was no better on this point.  I joined the church choir, we dragged our kids to that Sunrise service.  In fact, this year will be the  FIRST TIME in my life I'm not going to a Sunrise service.  Nope, the church I go to right now has a 10:15 service and I'll be bright eyed and bushy tailed for that!

4) Hiding the eggs

My father is a man of numbers and stats.  He loves keeping exact time on all of his clocks. He makes lists. He ranks baseball and football teams according to power rankings. No, not the ranking the leagues give the teams, his own algorithm. He is the reason I know what time it is in almost every country in the world, because time zones are very important to him.

And it was this attention to fact tracking and stats that made our Easter egg hunts so...horrible.

See, my parents would hide a random number of eggs each year.  And we had a limited time to find them. We had roughly forty minutes to find our eggs and baskets between the time we got home from church and the time we had to load into the car for the drive from Michigan to Wisconsin to see relatives for the long school vacation.

Not knowing how many eggs we had to find was one thing. Little kids don't care.  But the real torment came when we'd find several eggs and both our baskets and we were ready to dive into the candy when my father would say, "You have three more eggs to find."  He'd be standing there, all tall (He's 6'4") with his CLIPBOARD on which was a list of eggs and where they'd hidden them.

This could go on for anywhere up to an hour. Which would mean we'd be late getting our start on our trip. Which would anger my mother for reasons I still don't understand. It's not like she was ever going to drive the car on that trip from Flint, MI to Jefferson, WI.  That was a drive that took 8 hours and forced us through Chicago...the place Midwesterners all hate to drive.  ("Did you get stuck in Chicago?"  "Oh no, I went around Chicago.")

Oh, and also we weren't allowed to touch the candy in our basket until we'd found all the eggs.  Since our mother was anti-sugar, candy was something we didn't see more than 2x per year:  Halloween and Easter.

Yep, there we were, my mother furious that we were late, my brother and me screaming because we couldn't find the eggs, and my father, the always calm man, with his clip board telling us, "You have four more eggs to find."

This would ultimately fire off a random ransacking of the house.  We'd dig through the flour and sugar bins, yank thinks out of the fridge, turn over furniture. Meanwhile, my mother would be sitting in a chair, exhausted and cranky, muttering something about leaving the house for a week looking like animals lived there.  Every few minutes she'd yell, "Dennis, just tell them where the eggs are!" And he'd say, "Then they don't get the candy in their basket."  And we'd yell, "NO, WE WILL FIND THE EGGS!"

Sure, we found the eggs. Failure was not an option, since we were promised that any egg we didn't find we'd have to eat once we got back from Wisconsin.

When I was ten we moved from Michigan to Wisconsin and it was decided we were too old for Easter egg hunts.  Doesn't seem quite fair to my younger brother, but I'm fairly certain that was a battle my mother won.

3) Church. Every. Single. Day.

Growing up devout Lutheran is not all that different from growing up any other religion if your parents are hard core about following the rules.  That meant that Holy Week was church, church, and nothing but church for us.

Lent already meant extra church on Wednesday nights.  I didn't mind it so much when I was a kid because it meant a later bed time (I hated my 8 PM bed time from a very young age.  I've always been a night owl.) and it meant donuts after church. I'm not sure who came up with this practice, but donuts, coffee, and being Lutheran is the second trinity just below Father/Son/Holy Ghost and just above, Casseroles/potlucks/free will offering baskets.  (Yep, we Lutherans have a trinity of trinities.)  Every Wednesday night during Lent we did church and then donuts. And there were two rooms for donuts:  The adult room and the kid room.  Generally my brother and I went to the adult room where my parents made an appearance, ate one donut, and then got us home before we got "too wound up" so we'd be in bed as close to 8 Pm as possible.  (Honestly, my mother was militant about that bed time.)  We BEGGED to go to the kid room. It seemed so...fun.  So after years of listening to us whine about it, my parents let us hit the kid room.

One time was all we needed. The games were fine, but they only let us have HALF A DONUT.  HALF A DONUT?  Nope, we were back in the adult room the next week.

I digress.  So after five weeks of extra church, we get to Holy Week...which is EXTRA EXTRA church.  Palm Sunday.  Maundy Thursday. Good Friday.  Easter Sunday.  (And, if you had it offered at your church, Saturday Vigil.)  What kind of super torment was this for kids?  And it wasn't like church is now when you could just go in the clothes you're wearing. Nope, you had CHURCH CLOTHES.  This was especially awful on Good Friday because we had school for half a day, then church at noon and then we were off for a week.  We had to wear our CHURCH CLOTHES to school with the command from Mom, "If you go out for recess and get these clothes dirty before church you're going to lose TV for a week."  (That was her go-to punishment.  It was very effective for me.)  Now, the upside to going to a parochial school was that we weren't the only ones in church clothes on Good Friday.  Nope, all the kids in my school showed  up in church clothes and spent morning recess standing very still, not getting dirty.

As a parent, yes, I did all the church services with the kids, because why wouldn't I?  I was a bit looser on the whole "Church clothes" thing though. I believe God doesn't care what you look like as long as you're there. Although...no, we are a little lax with our mid week attendance. Okay, we're really lax.

2) The Easter Bunny  

Um, we didn't do the Easter Bunny.  Just like we didn't do Santa.

To be fair, we only had one car, and we didn't live near a mall where there was an Easter Bunny.  So the whole legend of the rabbit is not in my memory.  Although...looking at these pics, I don't think I was missing much:

What...the...heck where people thinking?  I saw the mall rabbit at our mall the other day and I thought, why do we do this?  We tell kids, "Don't talk to strangers" and then we dump them on the lap of some mall employee in a costume?

Which is why we, the Bradley family, have our own LEGEND OF THE NAUGHTY EASTER RODENT.

This started because, being poor folk like we are, if the kids wanted a specific pair of fancy shoes, we couldn't just buy them, they had to be for a special reason, like Easter.  So each Easter Sunday, before sunrise church, I'd put the shoes boxes out in front of their rooms with the new shoes.  The explanation was that the Naughty Easter Rodent had hidden our colored eggs and this was his way of saying, "Sorry."  Then, when we got home from church, in the hour we had before we had to go to grandma's (sound familiar) we'd have to find the eggs and baskets.

The tradition is now a bit simpler since the kids are adults. We don't do baskets anymore. Now we put shoe boxes on each chair around the dinner table.  It's not candy and shoes anymore, it's small things like a DVD or maybe a jar of exotic honey Peaches wants for a baking project.  Or that terrible candied ginger Hubby likes.  But someday...someday I'm going to have grandkids.  And then I will again share the full legend of the naughty Easter Rodent.

1)  Tips and Butts

How this battle of boiled eggs came to be I'll never know.  But on my dad's side of the family (which was the more whimsical side. My mother's side didn't "play with their food" EVER) did this every year around my grandmother's giant dining room table. Maybe it was because we were wedged into her tiny dining room, unable to move because the table was actually too big for the room. Maybe it was because we only got together 3x a year and we were loathe to leave the warmth of the family table.  Maybe it's because by the time an Easter egg gets to Easter Sunday, it's barely food and really better for sport than eating.  Who knows?

I've written about Tips and Butts before, but I'll go over the rules again:  Two people pick an egg each. They hold the eggs with the tips (narrow end) pointed toward each other, one egg above the other.  They say, "go" and the upper egg smashes against the lower egg.  They then flip the eggs to the butt (wider) end, and flip positions. The upper egg again smashes against the lower egg.  The winner is the one whose ends are intact.  The winner of the battle is the one who is holding an unsmashed end at the conclusion of the battle.

My grandmother made multiple dozens of eggs, decorated beautifully and piled high on crystal platters. Those eggs, nestled in green plastic Easter grass, taunted us kids. Tips and Butts was the best part of ANY dinner!

The only person who didn't participate was my Uncle Bob who sat at the end of the table. When an egg had both ends smashed, we'd pass it down to Uncle Bob who would peel it and, salt shaker in hand, would eat more than he would put back on the platter.  Whatever peeled eggs made it past him would wind up in a faintly pink or blue colored egg salad the next day.


Friends, no matter what kind of celebration you have this weekend:

Secular

Old world traditional

religious

let it be a joyful celebration!  Happy Easter to all!

Five for FRIDAY! It's OSCAR TIME!

 

Ah it's that time of year again...the time of year when Hollywood nominates some of the most awful movies as Best Picture and I do my darndest to watch them all and report back to you.  With the OSCARS airing this Sunday, time is running short. I've seen 9 of the 10 nominated films and I have some very strong feelings about all 10 of them.  I'll review them for you, and then I'll put up some Oscar night scenarios for the ones I think about the to actually be best picture.  

So it's more of a ten or fifteen for Friday. 

Ready? 

Here we go:

All Quiet on the Western Front

A German remake of a German masterpiece. (Don't bother with anything starring Richard Thomas.)  Set in WWI, this is trench warfare from a German perspective. The original film was very anti-war, and this one doesn't change that path. What changes, an in this case, what is improved since the original 1930 film, (which did not stop the Nazis from blowing the world apart 9 years later, but whatever) are the effects and the approach to storytelling. It's dark. It's bleak.  It's a macabre masterpiece.  Do not watching with English dubbing. Go with German dialogue and English subtitles.  

Score: 5 stars

Avatar: The Way of Water

Mega bloated budget sequel to the visually beautiful, yet woefully preachy, and not that well written "Avatar" from 20009.  This is the film I have not seen, which is weird because it's been in theaters what, like six years already?  But even when it came out, I knew this one was going to be a hard sell for me.  The original "Avatar" was like a gorgeous model.  Pretty to look at, but a big dumb dud at dinner cuz she won't eat anything.  Do i really want to spend more than 3 hours dedicated to a movie whose writers couldn't be bothered to come up with anything better than "unobtanium?"  

Score: No score.   Haven't seen as of this writing.

The Banshees of Inisherin

Reuniting one of my favorite movie dues, Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, "Banshees" a somewhat bleak, but not completely cold-hearted look at the suffocation of small-town life and the sacrifices we make for those we truly love. Farrell/Gleeson movies always bring something beautiful and original, without forgetting the humor.  

Score: 4 stars

Elvis

Watching "Elvis" and then hearing the comments from people who'd seen the movie reminded me of two things: 1) I LOVE Baz Lurhman films. They are bright, they are shiny, they are full of a colorful frenetic energy. 2) Americans do NOT understand the concept of the "imperfect narrator."  Those howling that this isn't the REAL story of Elvis need to sit down and have a cool drink of water.  This movie is told from the viewpoint of Colonel Tom Parker.  OF COURSE his tales won't mesh with the oft told history of The King.  OF COURSE NOT!  This is not a story ABOUT Elvis. This is a story about how Tom Parker saw ELVIS, saw himself, and saw his actions.  Tom Hanks is brilliant, as always, and Austin Butler blew me away with his interpretation of Elvis.

Score 4.5 stars

Everything Everywhere All at Once

I. LOVED. THIS. MOVIE! 

This was not a remake. This was not a sequel. This was not a biopic of a beloved character. This was not under the direction of anyone well established in Hollywood.  At first glance this isn't even a coherent story. And yet...this might have been the most beautiful depiction of the "what if" theory, and also of mother/daughter relationships I've ever seen.  Brilliant. Chaotic. Hilarious.  Violent.  Subtle.  Bombastic.  This movie lived up to its name. It was EVERYTHING.

Score: 5 stars

The Fabelmans

Ah yes, the semi fictional re-imagining of Steven Spielberg's life.

I guess if you slap Steven's name on a pile of dog droppings, someone will love it.  And, apparently, this is the pile of dog droppings the Academy wants us to love. I thought this might be a delightful little romp through some kind of family movies or something. Nope. This "re-imaging" is a slag heap of self-involved crap.  Endlessly long. Pointlessly depressing.  The bit with the monkey was nice. 

Score: 1 star

Tár

A female orchestra director has personal problems. And she drives through a lot of tunnels.

See, now I thought this was a biopic.  And I love Cate Blanchett. Turns out...it's not.  And I love Cate Blancett a little less. 

WORST PICTURE I'VE EVER SEEN. There is not one redeeming feature about this movie. It's boring. It's annoying. The main character is someone you want to slap a thousand times. There are about four minutes of real entertainment.  Oh, and then there are the tunnel. You could, and if you're forced to watch this movie, you SHOULD make a drinking game.  Every time Tar goes through a tunnel, do a shot. By the time you reach the end of this steaming turd of a film, you'll at least think you had a good time.  This officially replaces "The Royal Tenenbaums" and "Dude Where's My Car" as the worst film I've ever seen.

Score: 0.5 stars

Top Gun: Maverick

Sequel to the 1986 "Top Gun" this time Maverick is older, more mature, and still getting into trouble with the Navy brass.

Quite possibly the PERFECT movie. You don't need to have seen the original film...but it doesn't hurt to appreciate the new, more mature touch Tom Cruise has with his character and those around him. A touching performance by Val Kilmer brings tears to the eyes.  Meanwhile, attention to detail and reality (yes, the actors really are flying those planes) shines in every scene.  Maybe this won't be an award winner. It doesn't matter. This movie will live on for generations as a great American film.

Rating: 5 stars

Triangle of Sadness

Rich people mistreat poor people on a yacht. Then bad things happen.

Okay, here's how to watch this hot mess:  Skip the first hour.  I'm not kidding. Skip the first hour of the movie. Fast forward until you see Woody Harrellson on screen.  I promise you, you will have missed very little and saved yourself a lot of time.  What you have left is actually not bad.  You still have an hour and a half of rich people being bastards to poor people.  And, by the time you finally get to the POINT of the story, you're not worn out watching a 60 minute perfume commercial.  And honestly, the point of the movie is a pretty good one.  

Rating:  with the first hour- 2.0 stars.  Without the first hour: 3.5 stars.

Women Talking

Women in an ultraconservative Mennonite colony vote to decide if they are going to continue living under horrifying conditions or strike out on their own.

Well, the writers didn't spend much energy on the title...because yeah, "Women Talking" is about...well...women talking.  But in this case, it's not just women sitting around chatting. What they have to say is almost less important than how they say it and who says the words.  The movie, based on the novel by the same name (so I guess we have to give the writers a pass, right?) is a missed opportunity.  There are a lot of topics, important, vital topics to women today (the movie is set in 2010, but you can't believe it because of the pioneer lifestyle of the colony.)  Rape, love, children, religion, honor, obedience, loyalty, freedom, heaven, safety: Everything women have talked about since the dawn of time is touched on by this cast. And oh, what a cast.  This is the class A list of actresses. But, unfortunately, in spite of the impressive material and topics, in spite of the star-studded cast, this movie is a missed opportunity.  Much was left on the editing floor, I think.  Some topics, like what did Claire Foy spray in her kid's face, are left dangling.  What was going on with that schoolteacher?  We aren't told.  Can Frances McDormand actually have a part where she expounds LESS energy than she did in "Nomadland?"

Oh wait, we get the answer to that. Yes. Apparently.  Ms. McDormand is in this movie about seven minutes more than I am. And almost as comatose.

Judith Ivy, a longtime favorite of mine, shines in this film, as do most of the actresses, given the stilted dialogue they're forced to spew.  "Women Talking" is lovely, warm, sad, and eye-opening. Ultimately, however, it's a victim of poor editing.

Rating: 3 stars

okay.  Those are my ratings. So, Sarah, you may ask. WHAT IS GOING TO BE BEST PICTURE?

Well, let's start with what I know. I know I want "Maverick" or "All Quiet on the Western Front" or "Everything Everywhere all at Once" to be best picture. 

 I think Maverick is going to be completely overlooked.  It's too...what's the word...oh, right, fun for the common moviegoer. Yeah, why would we want a movie that everyone who saw it enjoyed thoroughly to be the best picture of the year?  Who wants that?

"All Quiet on the Western Front" will win best foreign language film.  It won't win Best Picture. It should. But it won't.

Now we get to the nitty gritty.  

Elvis, Tar, Triangle of Sadness, Women Talking, and Banshees are also not going to be Best Picture.  Too odd, too weird, too whatever. Not happening.

Which leaves us with: Avatar and Fabelman's.

Here's a little Oscar History: Back in 2010, when the original Avatar was nominated for Best Picture, the Oscar night was all about the battle between Avatar and "The hurt Locker" a tense war film directed by Kathryn Bigelow. (James Cameron's ex-wife.)  James had become quite the big fat jerkface after "Titanic", so I was out of control happy with The Hurt Locker beat Avatar.  Unfortunately, this time around, I don't believe there's anything strong enough in this field of films to overtake Cameron's ego.  

Then we have the Fabelmans.  This film is so bad, but I can totally see the Academy bending over and kissing Steven Spielberg's butt.  I mean, that would mean James Cameron is disappointed again, which is good. But then will Spielberg go back to making good, watchable movies, or will this encourage him to make more soppy depression medication movies?

So... will Hollywood kowtow to one of these long-time guys OR, will they do what they should and make something that was original AND entertaining AND fresh AND fun Best Picture?  Because if they do, then hands down it should be "Everything Everywhere All At Once."

A few other predictions:

Guillermo Del Toro's Pinocchio should win best Animated Picture.

Best original song should go to "Naatu, Naatu" from the Indian film "RRR." Fun movie, awesome song. "Life me Up" from that wet blanket of a Marvel movie, "Wakanda Forever" will probably win, but it shouldn't.

If "Blonde" wins anything on Oscar night, I will probably throw a shoe at my TV.

What is it and how did it get THERE?

 

WARNING!  This post contains graphic references to the female anatomy and foundation garments. DO NOT continue readings if you are under the age of 16, easily offended, or, you know, a dude. 

Okay, girls, let's talk.  You know how sometimes your upstairs foundation garments irritate the tender skin on your delicate bosoms?  You know how we, as the female of the species, shop around for a bra that won't irritate, and, since there is no such animal, we just sort of settle for the bra of least annoyance and go through life with our boob skin being just a little irritated ALL THE TIME?

Oh don't make that face.  I'm not the only one who puts up with this. If I were, memes like the one below wouldn't exist:

Anyway, so a couple of days ago, I put on my favorite bra, and by that I mean the one where the straps don't slide down my shoulders every five minutes, forcing me to reach inside my shirt and adjust, which makes me look like some kind of monkey.  Now, I'll be honest, I pick out my clothes the night before and pile them on top of the cabinet in the bathroom. I used to leave them on the floor in the bathroom, but then the next morning they'd be all over the house because one of our cats lives with the strong belief that our clothing, especially the underwear, needs to be visible in all parts of the house.

What I'm saying is, I pick out the clothes the night before because in the morning I tend to stagger around like something out of a George Romero film and making an important decision like "what am I going to wear" is way too difficult.  Also, when I pick out clothes to wear for the next day, I simply grab a top and pants from my closet and (and this key) underwear from my drawer. I don't inspect my clothing.  Tuck that in your memory bank for later.

So now it's morning.  I get up, weigh myself, because that's what I do every single morning. As if some fat fairy stopped by in the middle of the night and trimmed 70 pounds off my butt and gut.  I brush my teeth, wash my face, feel around for any whiskers because, as you know, those must be dealt with.  Then I get dressed. I remove the clothing from the top of the cabinet and then put the clothing on myself. Again, I do not examine the clothes.

I go through my day, and honestly I don't remember if I was working in the office that day or not. Doesn't matter. I, an adult, went through a day doing things. And yes, my upstairs foundation garment was irritating my bosoms. as it generally does. At this point in my life, I just give the girls a good scratch and move on.  It works, it doesn't work, all I know is that I have to deal with the irritation until 5Pm or whenever it's socially acceptable to remove the bra through my shirtsleeves and be comfortable again.

Well, on the day in question, I decided not to just remove the bra, but to do a complete wardrobed tear down. Must have been a work day.  LOL  It's at this point I inspect when I'm removing. (I tend to spill food on myself...a lot...so I usually check to see if I've ruined yet another top.)  as I'm removing e foundation garment, there, in the right cup, is...

Well, I have no idea what it was.

It was dark brown.

It was furry.

And, when I poked at it, under the furry part it was hard. Like a piece of melted tupperware.

Now, Ladies.  We've all gotten that stray cracker crumb or bread crust or apple core stuck in our bras, right?  (There's no lying on this blog.)  But...what...is...this?

The first thing I did...you know...AFTER freaking out...was to check my right bosom.  I mean, I don't know what I expected, but it would have surprised me to see that Right had exploded and left behind furry ectoplasm.

and yes, it's at this point I know I should have taken a picture of the mystery substance.  I did not. Instead, delighted to see my boob hadn't exploded, I tossed the bra into the laundry basket, promising myself I'd deal with it on Thursday, which is laundry day at the Bradley house.

I didn't sleep well, knowing that IT was still in my bedroom, waiting to...oh I don't know...slither out of the laundry basket and attach itself to another piece of my clothing.  So, after a sleepless night, I dug the bra out of the hamper and showed it to hubby.

Now, Hubby is a far more rational human who enjoys science and exploration.  He took one look at the hard, furry, plastic attached to the inside of my bra and said, "What is THAT?"

Not quite the comforting analysis I was looking for, but at least I felt less stupid. If Hubby didn't know what it was, then I wasn't alone.  He poked at the thing, tried to peal it off the bra lining.  Nope, that thing was STUCK on there.

"I thought maybe one of those Tide pods got stuck in there and didn't dissolve and then in the drier it melted and attracted a bunch of cat hair." This was as plausible a thought as I could have. I mean, we use Tide pods for laundry, and we have four cats, so a lot of cat hair winds up in our drier.  That made sense to me.

"No, those pods dissolve with a drop of water," says hubby.  I don't know how he knows these things, but I rarely question his knowledge of science and machinery.

"How about this," he says.  "Put it in the sink with hot water and see if it softens enough to remove."

That was a good idea, since, again, this is my favorite bra we're talking about. I'd really hate to have to toss it and buy a new one.  I just got this one broken in the way I like it.  (You know, the band's stretched out enough to accommodate my back fat.)

So I filled the kitchen sink with hot water and a bit of Dawn Dishwashing soap (because I LOVE Dawn dishwashing soap) and waited.   A few minutes later, I pulled the bra out of the hot water, and sure enough, the glue-adhesive-plastic-wax had melted enough and dissolved, leaving bits of dark fur behind.  I rinsed the fur away and hung the bra up to dry.

But...I mean...WHAT WAS THAT?  HOW DID IT GET THERE?  And WILL IT COME BACK?

Unfortunately, I may never know. And maybe that's a good thing?

Five for Friday! (On Wednesday) NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION TIME!

 

Well here we are:  the week between Christmas and New Year's.  A lot of people's work and school schedules are messed up, there's American football on TV pretty much every day, and we're all a little confused as to what day it is.

It's also that time of year when we all sit down and take stock of our lives and make resolutions to quit smoking, lose weight, eat better, blah blah blah.

2022 Was quite the year of upheaval here at the house, and much of 2023 is going to be spent dealing with the fallout. Things do look brighter, which is positive, but it's going to be a lot of work. Keeping that in mind, I've cobbled together my New Year's Resolutions for 2023.  (someone's going to have to remind me to give myself a report card next year!)

5) Stop using my Visa after February 1, 2023.

Part of the big upheaval is that I lost my fairly lucrative work at home job back in May.  Spending three months on Unemployment did not come close to covering the bills. Which meant we had to dip into the credit cards and the kitchen fund in a major way. Then I got a job, a full time job, that still wasn't making as much as my previous job, and oh yeah, I hated it. I felt caged. Then I found an awesome job.  Perfect in every way. Well, except it's currently super part time.  It'll be full time sometime after February 1, but this meant that much of Christmas went on my credit. A little frustrating, since we were in a really good place credit card wise back in May.  So, in 2023,I'm not going to promise I'm going to get my card paid off, but I'm resolved not to use it.

4) Time at the computer means working or writing. Not shopping.

Yeah, this is going to go a long way to helping the credit card situation.  As you know I'm an office girl by day and an author in my off time. (Thanks to my great new job, I'm an author by day as well.)  The biggest temptation when one is facing a computer screen is to, instead of working or writing, shop.  This was especially true in the last several months because, you know, Christmas.  So now, for 2023, the online shopping is, well, not done forever, let's be real, but it'll be cut down significantly.

3) Get back on the program!

This is not a weight loss thing, although it might sound like it. As many of you know, Hubby and I did Noom for about 18 months starting back in 2020.  I lost 37 pounds. For the last year I've been stalled and I've allowed 6 of those pound back on me.  I blame the job upheaval, but it's a lot of stuff that's gone on, I've gotten off the program, and returned to some of my bad old habits. So, for 2023, it's not about losing weight, it's about going back to what I learned a year ago, and being smarter about the food I put in my pie hole.

2) Take a class.

I've talked about a number of things I've wanted to do over the years, but I haven't mostly because it involves going back to school.  And who wants to go back to school, and having that cut into my TV time?  I live ten minutes from one of the best technical colleges in the country.  I don't know what class I'm going to take, but I'm taking something.  Watch out!

1) Replace guilt with self-care.

Friends, I'm old, I'm fragile, and I'm wracked with guilt about so many things I can't even count them.  This is the year I try and let go of some of that guilt and just...be better.  Be less fearful. Be more loving.  You get the picture. Oh, and also, maybe fall down less.  Because falling down is not good for someone of my advanced years.

So there we are: My resolutions for the near year.  Will I keep them?  Will I remember them past the end of today?  Let's plow through 2023 and find out!  In the meantime:

5 for Friday (on Monday): the only cleaning that matter for Holiday gatherings.

 

Good morning and Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas!

So, Hanukkah has begun and Christmas Eve is this coming Saturday.  And, even if you don't celebrate one of these two holidays, chances are better than even you're having some kind of late December celebration that involves extended family coming over for food and judgement.

Well, kids, listen to your good friend, Sarah, because I'm going to give you five tips to make you holiday prep much easier!  Hit these five points and your holiday will be fine.  (Hint:  No one cares about dusty floorboards or spots on the floor.)

Cleaning for the holidays is so overblown. I used to get myself in complete knots over making sure every nook, cranny, and corner was spotless.  Now, I'm older, wiser, and I have boiled down housekeeping prep to a list of 5 things you MUST do and the rest can be ignored.  Oh, and better yet, all five of these points are located in one room.  That's right. I'm not going to tell you to clean your oven or your microwave or even vacuum your carpets.  None of that matters.  (My sister-in-law once told me to clean my microwave during a Thanksgiving dinner because she was convinced my mother-in-law would think I was a slob. I cleaned the microwave, but other than sis in law, no one else looked in my microwave during that dinner. Also, at that point in my marriage, my mom-in-law thought I was a slob anyway. LOL)

I'm still a slob.  I live with two guys and four cats and honestly, 90% of the time I don't want outsiders in the house.  Those that show up are either people who are there all the time, like Skippy's girlfriend, Gigi, or like my mom, show sometimes shows up unexpectedly to  use my bathroom.  Well, you get what you get.  It's not always pretty.

But the holidays are a time for people from far flung regions (and branches of the family tree) to show up at the house and one must make an effort.  

Thusly and therefore, I give you my five points for holiday prep. Do these five things and nothing else matters.  

5)  Clean the toilet, sink, and mirrors. (Duh)

The toilet is the number 1, number 1 thing that has to be cleaned.  Scrub it, let bleach sit in it to white out the stains, and then drop in one of those blue blocks that makes the water blue. (Makes it smell nice and further hides any stains you might have on an older toilet, plus it looks like you made an effort.) Make sure there's no hair on the seat lid or on the floor around the toilet. 

While cleaning the bathroom sinks and mirrors might seem pointless, much the way cleaning the entry floor is because after the first person uses it it's no longer clean, at least run over the sinks and mirrors with some glass cleaner.  Takes forty seconds.

You don't need to do the shower or tub unless you're having overnight guests. Just pull the shower curtain/shower door closed. Anyone who snoops behind there to see if it's dirty should be ashamed.  If you do have overnight guests, here's a quick tip:  fill the tub 1/2 full with water. Pour half a gallon on bleach in there. Let sit for a couple hours.  Clean tub. For shower walls spray down with foaming spray and let that roll down the walls before you rinse.  Clean walls.  Spray bleach spray on any grout or calk that looks dingy, then rinse.  Done.

That should take you all of 15 minutes per bathroom, not counting sit time for the bleach tub.

4) Bathroom floors

Unlike the entry floors and the kitchen floor, you can't completely skip the bathroom floors.  But, you also don't have to go nuts cleaning. If you must mop, I can't stop you, but I've found that a million bathroom floor problems can be covered by a bathroom rug.  While you're cleaning the toilet, run a bleach wipe on the floor immediately around the toilet. Otherwise, a freshly washed or brand new bathroom rug or two will take care of the floor.  DO NOT use a fuzzy cover on the toilet.  While a fluffy rug is inviting, a fluffy toilet seat is asking for trouble.

3) Declutter

Normally, I'm all about covering housekeeping shortcomings with twinkle lights and shiny things.  But NOT in the bathroom.  Fancy soaps, kitschy things, and family pictures need to be GONE.  (Wall hangings are fine.)  In the bathroom, an empty surface is a clean surface.  DO NOT COVER THE TOIULET SEAT WITH ANYTHING FLUFFY.  Clear out the baskets you might use for hair tools, makeup, all of it. Box it all up and put it in a closet.  You want a spare decluttered room. Clear off the shelves, clean out the drawers.

2) Make the bathroom user friendly.

Now that you've decluttered, it's time to prep the bathroom for guests.  This is why you've cleared off the shelves and cleaned out the drawers.  

First:  A PLUNGER must be near the toilet, in plain view. Do not hide the plunger.  Do not put the plunger in a closet.  Put it next to the toilet.  Trust me on this one.

Second: extra hand towels go on the shelf.  A wet hand towel is gross.  Set out a folded stack of hand towels so no one has to use wet ones.  Also, set a basket someplace and mark it "wet towels."

Third: Bleach wipes on the shelf.  You don't know what kind of toilet emergency your guests might have and they want to keep it that way.  Have a large container of bleach wipes out in the open.

Fourth: Feminine Punctuation protection in a drawer.  I don't care if your party is nothing but guys and elderly women. Have a package of pads and tampons in the drawer closest to the toilet.  These things don't spoil, but your party will if some woman has an unexpected punctuation and has to go asking people for help.

Fifth: TWO extra rolls of TP ON A SHELF.  Much like the bleach spray and the plunger, you don't want people unable to find extra TP when they need it.  Yes, you have adorable TP covers or a lovely basket or a discrete shelf.  Screw that.  Put the TP on the shelf by the bleach wipes and the extra towels.

1) If it smells clean it IS clean.

I worked for a cleaning company for 12 years, so I know what I'm talking about.  Keep the bathroom smelling clean.  Have a small, clean scented candle (not floral or baking, something fresh like clean linen or spring air or something like that) burning throughout the length of the party.  Also have a full can of air freshener out in a obvious place.  You may want to check periodically and spray the room just as a precaution.  

Oh, one other thing to ponder:  Sound proofing.  Smells and messes aren't the only thing people want to hide in the bathroom.  Bathroom sounds need to be muffled as best as possible.  A vent fan is a good start, but for the holidays, especially if you have a bathroom close to the kitchen or other room where everyone will be, you may want more sound buffering.

I recommend putting a radio or MP 3 player or something other music thing and have holiday tunes playing for the whole party.  Believe me, this will ease a lot of embarrassment!

There you go.  The rest of your house won't matter if you take care of the bathroom. Also, make sure you have, you know, food and drink.  But a successful holiday party is NOT going to hinge on how clean your microwave is.  People will remember feeling comfortable in your house, especially in your bathroom.

5 for Friday: I was going to write something nice...but then I went to the grocery store.

 

Happy Holidays and welcome to December 15.  That's right. You have 9 legitimate shopping days (and one day to pick up stuff at Kwik Trip) for Christmas.  If you're ordering from anywhere other than Amazon, don't bother, it won't get here in time.  Wrap a picture of it and put that under the tree. If you're ordering from Amazon, you MIGHT get it in time...but you should probably pay for the super-premium shipping just to be safe.

Your best hope at this point is to shop old school. Get in your car and drive someplace. (If you haven't seen the latest "5 Below" ad for their store, that's what I imagine people doing right now.)  

Me?  Oh, I started shopping in June. I have a chart that I keep for exactly what got everyone last year, what I got them this year. I make sure people have the same number of gifts under the tree, befitting their relationship to me.  Skippy and Peaches have the same number as Hubby.  Children's partners have the same number as each other. Nieces and nephews have the same number of gifts as each other.  I even have a box of "just in case" gifts wrapped and ready to go in case someone I'm not aware of shows up on my doorstep Christmas morning.

Don't be jealous.  I haven't baked a thing. I've got premade cookie dough out on the counter waiting for me to do something, anything with it. I doubt I'll do anything.  I've already informed Hubby there will be no homemade Kringle this year.  Also, I'm thinking Christmas Eve dinner is going to be Pizza.  Frozen Pizza. Christmas cards are probably going to be Epiphany Cards, which we'll then push to Easter and then decide nothing's really gone on that much that people need a card from us. 

So yeah.  I'm still the same old mess you all know and love.

Now today I was going to write a nice 5 for Friday about 5 holiday songs you don't have on your holiday playlist, but you should.  It was going to be a very nice little blog that was going to put you all in the right mood to get you to Christmas morning.

And then I went to the grocery store.  My dad is sick so I offered to pick up a few things for my mom, so they won't have to go out in the snowy slushy mess that's happening in our weather right now.

And now we have a different 5 for Friday.  It's FIVE THINGS THAT PISSED ME OFF AT THE GROCERY STORE THIS MORNING!

Ready?

5)  DON'T YOU PEOPLE HAVE JOBS OR SCHOOL?

Seriously. 9:30 on a Friday morning. Even allowing for the senior citizens (isn't Wednesday supposed to be the day we let the oldsters out to shop?  What are they doing blocking my way on a Friday?) and the shopper people shopping for people who don't want to shop, there were a TON of job aged people dragging school aged children.

Yes, when my kids were small I took them and the kids I babysat to the store. Sure I did.  It was an outing.  I taught the kids how to make a shopping list, how to navigate the aisles in a store, and when to use a coupon and when it doesn't pay.  (Not that any of those kids remember those lessons, but whatever.) That said, NOW if I'm in the supermarket on a weekday morning it's because 1) I'm in the middle of a cooking/baking project and realized I need one weird ingredient and I need it NOW or 2) I'm picking up a few things and I have a busy day so I need to MOVE.

And yet, I'm trapped behind a family of FIVE kids and every single one of them is shouting about some sugary snack or whatever and the parents, who clearly would rather be at their jobs, are ignoring the children and arguing with each other about which can of yams is a better value.  (Here's a hint: NO ONE IS GOING TO LIKE THE CANNED YAMS. Stop buying them. The stores will stop trying to sell them and then they can use that shelf space for something better, like cookies.)

4) Could we PLEASE go back to stocking at night?

Oh, my lord.  I know that Covid changed the landscape of retail grocery stores forever.  I realize we'll probably never have our pick of 24-hour supermarkets to shop at ever again.  But...for the love of all that's holy, could we PLEASE at least have the stockers go back to working when the store is closed?

When stores were opened 24 hours a day, I was okay with having to weave around flatbeds of boxed goods at 11 at night.  There weren't a lot of other shoppers to contend with, so it was okay.  But now, now I'm fighting traffic with shoppers AND stockers. It's like the opening five minutes of "Office Space" where the office employees are stuck in traffic.  

Oh, and here's a rule:  If it's something I need...either a giant pile of boxes will be in front of it, or a couple grannies in those motorized carts will be double parked in front of it.  

3)  If I hear that joke one more time...

We've all been there:  We're rolling down the big aisle of the grocery store and some jackwagon pops out from a crossing aisle and you very nearly crash and one of you says, "Oh they should put traffic lights up here." Ha ha.

To quote a wise saying from my youth, "Gag me with a spoon."

Repeating that stupid joke does not clear you of stupid cart driving.  If you're crossing the main aisle, slow the bleep down and look!  Don't just shove your 300-pound cart (with your fourth grader riding on the rack underneath, even though the signs on the cart say, "Don't put a child in the bottom rack.") out into traffic and then act all shocked when someone nearly sideswipes you. Hey, if your fourth grader loses his fingers in an accident like that, you're probably not going to find the joke funny. Or maybe you're a terrible parent (which one could surmise, given you're letting the kid ride under the cart) and you still think the joke is funny.  

My point is, WATCH WHERE YOU ARE GOING.  And if you're a slower shopper, MOVE OVER for those of us who have an organized list and know what we're doing. 

Also, if you're comparison shopping, and that's fine, how about if you DON'T angle park your cart so it takes up the entire aisle.  I'm not in the store to make chitchat.  Asking you to please move so I can get by might just use up every spoon I have and then I won't have the energy to make dinner for my family and they'll wind up ordering pizza which will raise their blood pressure and blood sugars and make them fat.  DO YOU WANT THAT ON YOUR CONSCIENCE?  NO?  Then move your cart OVER if you're slow shopping.

2)  I bet you train your employees, right?  Then why do you assume we all know how to do this?

Self-checking.  I've been against it from the start.  First of all, stores spend time training their employees on how to be cashiers. I remember. I worked for Aldi for a brief time. The training was intense. So I make a point to use those highly trained employees whenever I can.

But somedays the line for a cashier at Woodman's is ten deep.  Sure, they have like fifteen cash registers, but only two lines are open.  The other fifteen checkout stands are self-check.  Sometimes I don't have the time or patience for it, or I've made the mistake of wearing my coat into the store and now I'm melting because the store's thermostat is set to "SUN" and I'm already a warm person (thank you, Menopause).  So I wind up in self-check.

Like I said, I've worked as a grocery cashier, but not everyone has.  Case in point, the two women in front of me at Woodman's today.

Woman 1:  A TON of stuff in her cart and she was picking things out in a particular order.

Woman 2:  Less stuff in her cart, but she couldn't find a UPC code to save her life.

I got behind woman 2.  And I struck up a conversation with the guy who got behind woman 1.  

Woman 1 got her groceries scanned first.  Annoying.  Woman 2 had to flag down the ONE cashier in charge of the SEA OF CHECKOUTS because she got herself a big old bag of rotten bananas for 99 cents, but there was no UPC code on the bag. (I know this because believe you me, she checked every side of the bag and half the bananas in it.) I don't know what she thought she was doing, but apparently WAVING HER CREDIT CARD in the air without saying anything out loud was the move she hoped would attract the cashier's attention.

Did it?

Would I be blogging if it had?

She finally murmured something like, "Excuse me?"

I was melting, I was annoyed, and I was watching my new bestie scan his cart and leave the store and I hadn't' moved an inch.  So, I yelled, "EXCUSE ME!" in my best teacher voice the same time little Miss Timid murmured.  She looked shocked. Not because I was yelling, but because she honestly believed that sound came out of her.

The cashier came over, scanned the bananas and that should have been the end of it, right?

Nope. Now it was time to stick said credit card into the machine to PAY for the groceries. Little Miss Timid, and I'm not even kidding, took a deep breath and slapped her hands against her thighs like a gymnast gearing up to mount he uneven parallel bars.  

Spoiler alert, I give her payment routine a 4.2.  She got the card into the payment machine, but it took her a couple tries to get the right PIN.

1) If you're going to make us use self-check, how about if you make sure ALL THE SELF-CHECK LINES WORK?

Every single store I go to has self-check now. And in every single one of those stores, no less than 30% of the self-check machines (and it's usually closer to 50%)  are OUT OF ORDER. How is this EVEN POSSIBLE???????????  HOW??????????  

Had all the self-check lines at the grocery been operating this morning, there would have been no blog. I wouldn't have gotten stuck behind Little Miss Timid.  My buddy would have been behind me, not behind Woman 2, who while she scanned faster than woman 1, bagged her groceries like she was playing Tetris and if she didn't get every bag perfectly packaged someone would skin the child she had riding on the bottom of the cart. 

Instead, half the checkouts don't work.  I get they can't find people who want to work as cashiers.  It's not a great job.  The hours blow, it's not a great paying gig, you're on your feet the whole time, standing on concrete, and you have to deal with just the worst people on earth:  The check writers who don't bring ID.  The people who HAVE TO PAY with EXACT CHANGE. Or, you know, me.  

What was my point? Oh right.

Anyway, I get that stores are having a tough time getting cashiers. But you can't even get your self-check machines to work for you?  GIVE ME A BREAK!

So there you go.  I meant to write a nice blog, but then this happened.

Oh, and the five songs you should have on your holiday playlist, but probably don't?

5) Selah Light of the Stable

4) Rick Springfield  Christmas with You

3) Mike Westendorf Nativity Song

2) Ana Gasteyer Sugar and Booze

1) Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings Big Bulbs

Five for Friday: My trip to the Chiropractor.

 

Good morning!

Okay, fellow Christmas folk, we are t-minus 23 to the big day.  Don't get frantic. We're all going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine!  

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. My visit to the chiropractor.

I've haven't been to one in years. And by years, I mean...I think I was pregnant with Skippy the last time I went. Which would be...a lot of years.  But, back in early November, my left hand went all weak. I couldn't grip anything, and it actually hurt to make a fist.  Not that I need to make a fist in my everyday life.  So, hubby suggested a trip to the chiropractor.

No surprise, I put off calling.  It's not that I fear doctors or dentists or medical people in general. I just am annoyed I have to go spend time sitting in their waiting rooms when I could just as easily be watching TV, lying on my couch.  Wait, I mean, I could be cleaning my house and cooking nutritious meals based on my new cookbook, now out and perfect for holiday gift giving!

Sarah's cookbook. Click here.

Anyway, I put off going. Then I made the appointment. And then I got a super bad cold.  So, I rescheduled. And rescheduled again.  And rescheduled again.  By the time I managed to haul my cookies into the office, my left hand was FINE.  I could grip stuff, and all was right with the world. Except hubby was still at me to get looked at.

So, I got looked at.  And here are 5 things that happened.

5) Apparently, I really like circling stuff.

Because I hadn't been to Badger Health Center for Chiropractic care, I had to fill out some forms. And one of the forms was a picture of a genitalia-free human body. The point was I was supposed to circle the part of the body that hurt.

Once I started circling body parts, I couldn't stop.  Left hand and elbow.  Check.  Neck...well, yeah.  Shoulders? Both of them.  Knees?  Well, always. One always hurts.  Feet?  Like I'm going to leave out the feet.  By the time I was done circling, I had a headache.  So, I circled the head.

4) Ma'am...please don't take that off.

Unlike every other medical professional I've ever seen, including the massage people in that building, I got to keep my clothes on. Wish I'd known that, you know, before I started disrobing. In front of the nice young front desk person. While the door was still open. 

3) Just Call me Boris Karloff.

If you've been to a chiropractor, you know the weird table they have.  You basically walk up to the thing and lean on it while it slowly lowers you to a lying position. Fun ride, right? I think I even said something stupid like, "Whee...."

 Then the doctor comes in and starts jumping on you and shoving her knee into your kidneys, and parts of the table sort of fall away, with a very loud sound. Overall, it feels and sounds like she's trying to kill you and your body is breaking into several pieces, turning to stone, and crashing to the floor.

Then I flipped onto my back (gracefully of course...) and she yanked and pulled and twisted, all while the sections of the table gave way randomly. At the end, the table slowly rose, while I was now on my back. It looked a lot like that bit from Frankenstein, where the monster is coming to life and getting off the table. 

2)This came back to bite me in a big way...

Since I circled everything on that form, the chiropractor was going to address...everything.

Neck and shoulders?  "You're very tight. Let's just do a light adjustment..." CRACK BAM CRACK.

Knees? "Oh, your ligaments are loose and your hamstrings are hard.  Let's just poke and push on them until you scream. And now...we yank!"

Lower back?  "Do you have lower back problems?"  (It was literally the one thing I didn't circle.)  I said, "No...no...I'm good."  What she heard was, "Stick your knees on both sides of my hips, find the really tender spots and then bounce on me for ten minutes yelling, 'yee ha' the whole time."

Elbows and hands?  

*This paragraph has been blacked out due to images of violence, torture, and foul language.

Feet?  I stopped her there.  It was a bad day, arthritically speaking, and I can barely tolerate any pressure on my right foot on a good day.  So...let's just leave that alone.

Then, after all that, she says..."Do you suffer from arthritis?"

Well, I DID, but now I suffer from YOU!

1) Wait, we're not done? I'm not cured?

Finally, after it was all over, and every joint I own was screaming in agony, she helped back to the front desk and there said two things that struck me down with fear.

1) "I want to see you in the next couple days again."

2) "According to your insurance, you have twenty visits between now and the end of the year.  We can really work on what's hurting you."

GOOD LORD...I'm not done?  I have to come back?  And you want to see me up to 20 times before the end of this month?

Well, okay then. I'm going back next week. On Monday, I think. Because why wouldn't you kick off a Monday with something like that?

Meanwhile,