The Farmers’ Market

vegetables.jpg

What is it about an outdoor produce market that makes everything seem so much fresher and better than when brought from the clean, air-conditioned, misted produce counters of the super market?  Perhaps it is the variety and the large quantities, or perhaps the sensual pleasure of the vast array of colors and textures that make shopping at a farmer’s market seem almost like an exotic adventure.

This weekend, struck with the urge for a first taste of summer, I decided to visit the local farmers’ market where produce is sold directly to the consumer by eager produce vendors.  Wandering among the various vendors, selecting the best looking fruits and vegetables becomes a challenging experience.

Piles of large green watermelons and huge cantaloupes beckon.  Why is it that the melons seem so much bigger than the ones in the grocery stores?  Mounds and mounds of red tomatoes – are they too ripe?  Are they too green? Are they still like the cardboard-tasting tomatoes of winter?  Fresh yellow corn is laying in piles, still in the husk, with fine silk hair like corn babies. Buying in quantity for fresh corn-on-the-cob seems like the only sensible thing to do.  Then there are the strawberries and blueberries, all looking much too temptingly luscious and fresh to pass by.

Laden with bags of corn, new potatoes, and berries, we wind our way back to the outside, thinking of all the wonderful meals we will have next week, sure that the produce is much fresher and cheaper than it could possibly be from any grocery store. Sure, we still have to visit the supermarket. There is a lot more to meals these days than just fresh produce.  But think of how much fun we would have missed shopping the normal way.

While I appreciate the quantity and dependability of our ever-present supermarket food supply, I also hope to be able to continue to occasionally be reminded of another time, another way of shopping, another way of doing things.  I hope that I might always take delight in simple pleasures and in trying to find the extraordinary in the ordinary.

©1998
Posted in Food, Plants/Gardening, Shopping | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Shooting the Breeze

junkyard

There’s nothing worse when shooting the breeze than asking a question that can’t be answered gracefully, especially if you want to get on someone’s good side.

With that in mind, we’ve decided to help Yankees, Northerners, Non-Southerners or others who have moved south. We want them to learn to how talk to rednecks without ask the nosey questions that will get them in trouble with the locals.

Here is a short list of things you should never ask a Southerner when conducting business or even in casual social relationships – especially if you suspect the person you are talking to might be redneck or white trash.

You might have to think about these. The reason why they are impolite is not always obvious to Non-Southerners.

THINGS YOU SHOULD NEVER SAY TO A REDNECK

  • I’ve never been in a house with wheels before.
  • Just sign right here on the dotted line.
  • Whose old rusty heap is that parked out front?
  • My brother works for the Department of Revenue.
  • Mind if I see your driver’s license?
  • Who dumped that old washing machine in your back yard?
  • How many children do you have anyhow?
  • Could I borrow your lawn mower?
  • When’s your next high school reunion?
  • But what will you do with your old couch?
  • I hear they are going union down at the factory.
  • I knew your sister Norma Jean before she settled down.
  • Nice dog you got there – is it friendly?
  • Read any good books lately?
  • What’s cooking that stinks — turnip greens?
  • What’s that boiler for out behind your shed?
  • You’re gonna do the right thing and marry her, aren’t you?
  • You sure have a lot of cats around here, don’t you?
  • What happened to the possum you ran over in the road?
  • Guess you knew hunting season has ended already?
  • Nice string of fish you have there – what’s the limit on bass?
  • Got any beer left?
  • That shotgun isn’t loaded is it?
  • Why do you have a pool table in your kitchen?
  • Is that auto transmission in the bathtub?
  • Do any of these TV’s work?
  • I know a guy that will tow those junk cars for you.
  • Did you know somebody recorded wrestling on your TV?
  • What’s that big number 3 on your hat for?

Hope this provides some insight into the redneck culture and helps you learn to mind your manners and your own business when you’re on another’s turf. If you know better than to use annoying statements in polite redneck company – congratulations! We are proud of you for understanding so well.

If you hang around here long enough shooting the breeze, you are well on the way to becoming just like we are. Thank you for visiting, and please don’t trip over the spittoon on your way out.

©2003
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The Air Show

IMG_0033By now everyone has heard about the disaster, how one of the beloved Blue Angels crashed and burned during practice for a show right here in my hometown. The entire town is devastated and anticipation has turned to grief . Many people here are retired military who served at the former air field where the show is held and the community has a special bond with flying. The following is a column I wrote years ago that shows the excitement we feel about our air show. I offer it in tribute to Captain Jeff Kuss.  The air show is still on this year, but our favorite team will not fly. God bless the Blue Angels who  provide public relations and recruiting for our military as they serve our country.

————-

Every year about this time, it happens – the air show!  I don’t know exactly what it is about air shows, but somehow they seem to strike a nerve of excitement.  Something about those loops, barrels, and Cuban eights just makes me come alive!

I use to never go to the air show, even though it was right here in my hometown.  Then one year, I decided to go.  I loved it! I was hooked. Now I can hardly wait for the air show to come.

Yep, I’d risk almost anything for a good air show – sunburn, crowds, major traffic jams, rain threat – nothing can deter me.  I’ve become almost a pro at watching   I’ve learned how to get my tickets the day before the show, to take my own snacks and water to avoid the extraordinary prices charged by the vendors, to be sure to remember the sunscreen, and to take my lawn chair.  I have a special hat to wear to keep the sun off my head, big enough to do the job but with a small brim so the view in the sky is not obstructed. And of course, bring those sunglasses.

The pro watcher always starts early to allow for the lineup of traffic going into the show.  After  arriving, I take my lawn chair, go immediately to the front and sit it up right at the rope for the best view. Once I stake my claim to a prime spot, I am free to wander.

While I wait for the show, I can visit a few of the static exhibits. Look at all those dials on the dash.  Wonder what they are all for?  Might even sit in the cockpit of a plane and pretend I am getting ready to take off for the wild blue yonder.  I can talk to some of the staff that fly the planes and make some great pictures standing by the planes.

The flying, of course, is what I am here for.  It is never a disappointment.  I don’t have to know a thing about planes or the military to enjoy the amazing spectacle and realize the skill involved as they trail smoke, loop, dive, and do hammerheads.

Of course, the best shows are when one of the big groups comes:  The Thunderbirds, the Snowbirds, or the Blue Angels.  All others pale in comparison to the thrills they provide for the crowd.  Some people can distinguish a favorite. I have trouble doing this.  They are each so incredible in their skill and precision that there are not enough superlatives to describe the demonstration they give.

So, the air show is coming again this year.  I will get tired, and bit sunburned, and have trouble trying to wind down.  It’s a great show!  Wish you all could be here!

Copyright 1998 – 2016 Sheila Moss

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The Laws for Offices

office

It occurred to me when the computer was down, the phone ringing off the hook, and I was trying to send a FAX that wouldn’t go through, that there must unseen forces governing offices and creating laws of probability to make us crazy. We don’t know how these rules work exactly, but they seem to reoccur in such a regular pattern that it is hard to believe that it is not more than mere coincidence.

  • If your day is going well, don’t check your email.
  • The better you do your work, the more work you will be given to do.
  • Nothing can ever be done in the amount of time allotted to do it.
  • Time management is another of the tasks that you don’t have time to complete.
  • The more you need a supply item, the greater the probability it was discontinued.
  • The closer the deadline gets, the more complicated the project becomes.
  • If you suggest a good idea, you will be put in charge of implementing it.
  • Your report is never so good that it can’t be improved.
  • Computers will only calculate the information you give them.
  • A four-day week with a holiday is longer than a five-day week.
  • If you take a day off, the work will multiply until you get back.
  • The right decision and the wrong decision are both better than indecision.
  • There is nothing more satisfying than a job well done – except one assigned to someone else.
  • If you make a coffee ring on a document, it will always be an essential reference item.
  • Meetings are a waste of time – but an approved and essential waste of time.
  • When everyone understands policy, it’s time to change it.
  • If you want to get a task done, you have to do it instead of talking about how to get it done.
  • The more details in directions, the greater the likelihood they will not be understood.
  • If someone sends email to keep from calling, they will call to see if the email was received.
  • An error is never noticed until after the email is sent.
  • Technology will create as many problems as it solves.
  • A stapler always jams and runs out of staples at the same time.
  • When everyone understand the new computer software, it will be upgraded.
  • Any organized chronological filing system can be fouled up with two word – alphabetize it.
  • Nothing gets done as fast as it does on the day before going on vacation.
  • The telephone will ring most when you are totally absorbed with something else.
  • The primary function of office workers is to ensure that paperwork is never completed.
  • The easy jobs always end up taking more time than the difficult ones.
  • After everything is done, we will still worry about whether we’ve done everything.
  • The computers worked better before they were upgraded.
  • Never say anything in an email that you do not want forwarded all over the office.
  • The more important a fax, the greater the probability that it will not go through.
  • No matter how busy someone is, they always have time for lunch and smoke breaks.
  • Problems always develop at the end of the day, never at the beginning.
  • The day you have a lunch appointment will always be the day you can’t get away.
  • Projects are never cancelled until they are nearly completed.
  • If you misplace it, you will need it; if you find it, you will forget what you needed it for.
  • If it’s been a great week, something important didn’t get done.
  • When all else fails, remember you can fix any machine by turning it off.
  • If you wait until the last minute to run copies, the copy machine will always jam.
  • Your pen will quit writing when you are taking down an important phone number.
  • Documents always make more sense before being revised than afterwards.
  • You will only find an easy solution after spending all day doing it the hard way.
©2004

Did I miss anything?

Posted in Humor, Work Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Attack of the Butterfly

mothIt soared past me like a bat from hell. “What is that?” I thought. I had just finished pumping gas and was climbing back into my car. Before I could close the door, the monstrous butterfly flew in behind me and executed a ten-point landing on the armrest between seats.

“That’s the biggest butterfly I’ve ever seen,” I thought. No way am I closing the door with that thing in my car…”Shoo!” The butterfly was oblivious to me. “Look, I don’t take hitchhikers!” I spewed. It didn’t leave.

I climbed out, leaving the car door open. Maybe it simply needed a bit of gentle encouragement to direct it to the door. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. Of course, I couldn’t find a thing in the car to swat it with except an old church bulletin. I attempted to nudge it toward the open door, but it only moved to a spot further away from me where I couldn’t reach it.

“I’ll open the hatchback and maybe it will fly out. Get, bug!” It bared its fangs at me. Okay, maybe it was antenna, but it sure looked like fangs.

I went to the other door and opened it, the better to swat at the bug. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to kill it, just to get rid of it. The church bulletin was a pretty flimsy weapon, but I nudged it again. Apparently, it was not impressed by the schedule of upcoming church events, because it still refused to leave.

“This is getting ridiculous!” It must like sports cars. Why else would anyone prefer to drive instead of flying? I briefly considered throwing it the car keys, and saying, “Take it, the tank is full.” No one will ever believe I was carjacked by a bug with a fear of flying.

I was beginning to get that helpless female feeling that I hate, but tried to devise a plan. Tear gas? Mace? 911? I don’t think so. About that time a knight in shinning armor came out of the gas station. Okay, it was only a guy in a T-shirt and jeans who had paid for his gas and was headed for his pickup truck. Who says knights have to wear armor these days?

I appealed to his macho side. “Are you afraid of bugs?” I yelled around the gas pump.

He looked at me dumbly, and shook his head “no.” Big mistake.

“Would you mind getting this bug out of my car?” I asked, not mentioning that a moth the size of Count Dracula was lurking behind the passenger seat.

He came over to investigate, armor clinking. Apparently the moth, butterfly, or whatever it was, sensed I was bringing in reinforcements and decided to retreat. With a swish and flutter of wings, it suddenly took flight and shot out the door right past Lancelot’s face. He ducked and we watched in wonder as the moth did a hammerhead and several double loops before it streaked away into the wild blue yonder. I half expected it to leave a trail of smoke behind.

“Well, guess you don’t have to do anything after all” I said. He seemed relieved to be excused from duty.

I quickly slammed my car doors and sped away, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror for a butterfly with fangs coming up behind me at 80 mph. So far that is the last I’ve seen of the thing, though.

The butterfly is probably back at the cocoon right now telling his mate what a bad day he had and how he is late getting home from work because he accidentally flew into the car of a crazy lady who assaulted him with a church bulletin.

© 2003 Sheila Moss

For some reason, I seem to have a lot of insect encounters. Bugs of all sorts seem to conspire to annoy me. How about you? Are any bugs bugging you lately?

Posted in Creatures, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

Mid Life Crisis

sunsetwoman

Middle age is when you first suspect your body of betrayal..

Middle age is when everyone else suddenly becomes younger.

Middle age is when you refuse a senior discount because you’re not old enough.

Middle age is when you’d rather take a nap than go out on the town.

Middle age is when you realize there’s not much time left to worry about getting old.

Middle age is when you’ve already seen more than you want to — several times.

Middle age is when the opposite sex doesn’t seem quite as sexy anymore.

Middle age is when you notice how small the fine print is.

Middle age is when you’ve done it all, but can’t remember if you had fun doing it.

Middle age is when you get a sneaking suspicion that you might be mortal too.

Middle age is when it seems like there’s a lot more to remember than there use to be.

Middle age is when you decide to buy that red sports car before its too late.

Middle age is when you can’t see how to find your eyeglasses.

Middle age is when you’d like to have an affair, but you don’t have the time or energy.

Middle age is when the chiropractor becomes your best friend.

Middle age is when your dog and your children forget who you are.

Middle age is when you decide the bathroom mirror is a liar.

Middle age is when you’re positive you still remember sex.

©1998 Sheila Moss
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Vacation at Home

homeIt is not always necessary to go some place else to have a vacation. A vacation at home can provide a chance to relax and unwind, give you an opportunity to catch up on things you need to do, and save you a ton of money on food, gas, and motel bills. Here are a few helpful suggestions from my personal experience:

Since you are home anyhow, it’s a perfect time to take the car to the dealer for routine maintenance. Pay $382.46 for the defective valve they find – $382 for labor and 46 cents for the part.

Make a dental appointment for that tooth that’s been nagging you. Bill is a mere $565 and dental crown falls off as soon as you get home.

Send daughter on camping trip for an inexpensive getaway weekend. Pay $20 for camping fee, $40 for white water rafting and $229 for incidentals.

Vacation is a good chance to have minor home repairs done while you can be there. Learn that the living room floor has rotted and front door needs to be replaced.

Call the termite inspector. Find out you have termites in spite of the $900 termite treatment you had last year.

Call lawn service to trim the shrubs. Find out the owner has gone on vacation for three weeks.

Call six times about getting screens repaired and leave six voice mail messages. Contractor calls to say he will come Thursday or Friday, not sure what time – be at home.

Get a bid on having the house painted. After looking over the job, painter does NOT submit a bid. Get another bid on having the house painted. After you hear the price, you wish the second painter had not submitted a bid either.

Withdraw your entire savings account and give it to various service and repair people. If there is any money left, flush it down the toilet where the rest of your bank account went.

Look forward to spending some free time for rest and relaxation. Wake up in the morning with a raging sore throat and stuffed up head. Go to local convenience clinic to get sore throat treated. Find that it is a virus that will last 3-5 days, exactly the amount of vacation you have left.

Vow to forget your problems and plan a day of fun at the local spring festival. Find out your partner has been called in to work overtime on Saturday.

Go to bed since you are sick, tired, and can’t afford to do anything else. Just as you fall asleep, the contractor shows up to fix the screens.

Go back to work and rejoice that your vacation is finally over and you can get some rest. Vow that next year you will go to Disney World, as it is much cheaper and less stressful than staying at home.

-0-

What’s your idea of a great vacation? What is the best vacation you have ever had?

©2003

Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

My Kitchen Tis of Thee

Samuel Francis Smith wrote the words to “My Country Tis of Thee” as a hymn. Actually, you might say it was a parody of sorts as the music belongs to an old patriotic German tune. It was also set to other words in England and later became the English National Anthem, “God Save the Queen.”

So much for history. Here’s my warped version, a parody of a parody.
HINT: (It’s better if you hum along while you read.)

kitchen1aHousewife’s National Anthem

My kitchen tis of thee,
Sweet land of misery,
Of thee I sing.
Place where the biscuits died,
That once were mama’s pride!
From every country side,
Let freedom ring!

My kitchen tis of thee,
That took my liberty,
Of thee I sing.
I hate thy heat and steam!
I hate to mop and clean!
I think I’m gonna scream!
Let freedom ring!

Fling aprons to the breeze,
Throw dishtowels in the trees
Let women sing!
Let frozen food awake;
Let all that eat partake;
Let it their dinner make,
My life prolong.

Our kitchen tis of thee,
Which took our liberty,
At thee we scream!
Long may our pots be bright;
We scrubbed them half a night!
The microwave has saved our life,
It is our King!
When I did the song parody for housewives, a reader suggested that I do one for the guys too. I liked the idea, and so I’ve done exactly that.

lawnmowerHusband’s National Anthem

My lawnmower tis of thee,
Sweet tool of misery,
Of thee I sing.
Lawn where my father died!
He should have stayed inside!
Protect me from his foolish pride,
Let freedom ring!

My grassy backyard, thee,
Lawn of the never free,
I see you grow.
I hate thy rocks and rills,
I hate to mow up hills;
My heart with loathing fills
I cut too low.

Let mowing swell the breeze,
Watch out for flowers and trees,
The lawnmower hums.
Let nature now awake;
I’ve had all I can take;
I’m ready for a break.
My life prolong.

This lawn is work to me,
I need my liberty,
To clear my head,
Long may my work be light;
I tried with all my might;
My Saturday’s will now be quiet,
My lawn is dead!

©2003

Which one do you like better? Both are about freedom from stereotypical disliked household tasks.

Posted in Home, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Murphy’s Laws of Moving

moving

Funny, but from the times I’ve moved and the many times I’ve had to help my kids move, I have begun to notice a pattern in the events that seem to come into play as soon as the decision is made that it’s time for a new place:

1.  No matter how many boxes you have, you will never have enough.

2.  The more your friends promise to help, the more likely it is they will be deathly ill or out of town the weekend you are moving.

3.  Whatever it is that you need, it is always in the bottom of a box that has already been taped shut.

4.  Now that you are moving and no longer need it, you will always find something you have been looking for for years.

5.  The tape, the scissors, the markers and the screwdriver all know how to play hide ‘n’ seek.

6.  The thing that gets broken will always be an irreplaceable antique heirloom – never something cheap that you didn’t like anyway.

7.  Regardless of long the drought has been going on, it will always rain on moving day.

8.  You will always loose your checkbook, your car keys, the remote control or your cell phone.

9.  If you stay up all night packing to be ready for the movers, they will be late.

10. No matter how large the new place is, it will shrink when you move in.

©1998 Sheila Moss

 

Have you moved lately — or ever? What sort of problems did you have or did everything go smoothly, as planned?

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The Dust Mite War

cleaning

Like nearly every woman, I’ve been fighting the dust mite war my whole life, but recently it became more serious when the doctor told me that I was allergic to house dust.

It is not plain, old, run-of-the mill, outdoor-type dust that causes the problem. It is dust that collects in the home that is infested with dust mite varmints. These pesky mites are microscopic in size but cause all sorts of problems and allergic reactions.

Dust mites are tiny but nasty looking critters, looking not unlike an ocean crab. Of course, in the microscopic world, everything looks pretty ominous. In our world, they are invisible because of their tiny, minute size.

It seems these little critters feed on dead human flesh. Gross, huh? The dead cells that our bodies naturally shed are “steak and potatoes” to these guys. They hang around places where the food is plentiful, especially in the bedroom and mattress. When a flake drops off, they slurp it up.

Actually, all this slurping is what causes most of the problems. They eat so much that they use the restroom a lot, and they don’t bother with flushing. One dust mite can go as many as 20 times a day. I don’t know who counted, but apparently someone with a powerful microscope either had nothing else to do or received a government grant to count dust mite poo. Anyhow, it’s the dust mite excrement that causes the allergic reactions.

Now all of this is really quite disgusting. Makes you want to grab the disinfectant and start spraying for dear life. Catch 22: Dust mites are not killed like germs!

Forget the Lysol and grab the vacuum cleaner. There are some special powders and sprays that help, but the only really effective weapon against dust is an old one –- HOT WATER. Yep, hot water, says the doc, is the best way to kill these varmints. Of course, plastic dust covers on the mattress and pillows, frequent laundering in hot water, and electrostatic air filters help.

It’s a war against an invisible enemy. How can you eliminate dust from the environment? Dust collectors like books, plants, stuffed toys, carpets and mini-blinds are “home sweet home” for the mite.

Depressing. What’s the point of living without any of the things we love, like books, plants and beanie babies? It’s enough to make a person obsessive-compulsive. There has to be some compromise some place. Who wants to stay awake all night listening for dust mites with the munchies?

My vacuum cleaner is the only friend that understands me any more. Its just the two of us against an invisible dust mite army. I may make a trip to the local allergy store for a tannic acid spray. Seems this spray can “denature” mites. Trouble is it can also stain everything it touches.

I’m wondering if the guy who coined the phrase “war is hell” could have been allergic to house dust?

 ©2009 Sheila Moss
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