Monday....Took Mom to the radiology office for a bone density scan. She has some osteoporosis, so they do these scans every couple of years or so.
Tuesday....Took Mom to the hospital for a nuclear stress test. When she'd gone for a check up to her family doctor, he listened to her heart with the stethoscope, and he heard her heart skip a beat. (No, not because she's in love with him!) He did an immediate EKG and then determined that she should have a stress test. Thinking that, because she is 85 years old and walks with a cane, she could not withstand a tread mill, he ordered the injection type of test. I've got news for Dr. S. Mom could have out-done me, for sure, on that tread mill, but he is a careful doctor, and not one to take chances, so injection-type it was. It took all morning, and she wasn't terribly pleased about the whole business. When she came out to the waiting room, she firmly reported that she was 'never going to do that again! She was also wearing a Holter monitor which she'd have to wear for the next 24 hours.
Wednesday...Took Mom back to the cardiology unit at the hospital for removal of the monitor. She was glad to get that off and the electrodes and wires that were attached from it to her body. We were instructed to make a follow up appointment with the doctor. We left the hospital and went to Best Buy to peruse the computer section. Mom's old one quit, and she wants to buy a new one. I'm a bit concerned that she won't be able to operate the updated programs, as she doesn't see well and they can be confusing enough for someone who has perfect vision. I'd hate for her to spend all that money, and not be able to use it. But, she likes to play her games, and can do so little else, I'm careful not to say anything very discouraging. Anyway, she's determined.
Thursday.... I balanced Mom's checkbook (I almost never do my own!) Then I wrote out her checks for her to sign and addressed envelopes for her. I also made numerous phone calls for her to get work done on two houses.
Friday...today we will go and pick up the new computer, which she has decided is the answer to her long, boring days. It seems to me to be a rather pricey toy, if it will be used mostly for puzzles and card games....but it's not my money, and not my long, boring days.
Not often, but sometimes I feel as if I'm living my Mom's life, rather than my own. When I realize how selfish that sounds/is, I erase the thought! After all, she can't help it if all of her hobbies and interests have been stolen by poor eye-sight and failing hearing. She can't help it if she's a widow or that can't drive herself hither and yon, and she can't help it that age is causing more and more doctors and appointments. She can't help the fact that she needs some aid in doing things, like balancing checkbooks and writing envelopes. God gave this wonderful Mom to me, and she was always there for me and my family, to help in any way she could: babysitting, offering a listening ear or a word of wisdom, even giving a short term loan at times.
I'd so much rather have her with us than not to have her. I'd prefer to help her as much as I can, rather than have her in a nursing home, or even to hire an aide to come to the house. She doesn't need all that much care and we all hope that she never will. She just needs a few hours, sometimes every single day of the week, but that's ok with me. So many other elderly people need so much more requiring their children to be there around the clock. Mom has decided many times over that she will NOT live with us, but will do 'something else' if it comes to that. She's welcome, but she wants to live independently as much as she's able. I do wish, however, that we could find a person to clean her house. With my bad hip and back, I don't do real well on my feet that long, and my own house suffers because of that. Try as we have, we still haven't located anyone who has shown up.
So, all of my plans for this week, painting shutters, cleaning my house, getting my ornaments made for the Christmas exchange, have been put on hold. It's really alright. Those things will always be there waiting, but who knows how long Mom will be here? As long as she is, I will be there for her...and I won't regret a minute of it.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
At the Hospital
We checked in at the desk in the cardiology dept. We'd no sooner gotten through the signing of the forms when a tall young man summoned Mom to follow him. As I watched her walk away, through the doors which would take her into the nuclear medicine area where I could not accompany her. I felt a little sad as I knew, from experience, what she'd be doing for the next few hours, and it would make her nervous not to have me near. She was about to undergo a 3-4 hour stress test where she'd be injected with nuclear dye which would make her heart race for a few minutes, while the doctor followed the action on a monitor. It isn't such a bad test, but when you are a legally blind, partially deaf, 85 year old woman, all the waiting (much of it alone) and having nothing to do can be a bit upsetting.
I heard that familiar sound of Mom's cane clicking against the floor and then she was out of hearing distance and out of sight as the doors closed behind her. I turned and went to the waiting room, choosing a seat at the end of the row near a small table. From there, I could watch the comings and goings of hospital personnel and where I'd be able to see Mom coming when she'd be ushered out. I tried to read, but it was impossible for me to do with the wall-hung tv blaring on the Fox channel. I thumbed through a current issue of Woman's Day magazine, absorbing very little.
Before long, I heard a male voice at the desk in the hall. I looked up to see two elderly men. One was a patient, the other was his younger brother. They came into the waiting room and chose chairs in 'my' row, leaving one vacant between us. The younger man looked at me, and as is the custom here in the south when someone looks you in the eye, I smiled and said good morning. It was the beginning of a conversation which went on for the remainder of the morning, until they were called to see the older man's doctor.
Mr. M. was easy to talk with, a true gentle man. He was a soft-spoken Christian man, and it was obvious in his statements and in his testimonies. Mr. M. told me that he's 84 years old and in very good health. His wife, he said, is not doing so well. He has two brothers and a sister, the oldest of whom is 93 years old, the youngest one, 78 years old. He spent his life as a farmer, starting out with cotton until the textile industry was sent overseas, and the local mills closed. Afterward they grew grains, and now they are, in his words, 'just cruising.' Being a northerner, I'm not familiar with the growing of cotton, and asked him if what we were told was true. "Does cotton deplete the soil so that it's not good for other crops?" He told me, "Not at all. You just harvest your crop, the machines cut the remainders, and it goes back into the soil. You feed your land the nutrients, and it'll grow things. Leave it alone, and you'll struggle." We talked about women's fashions after a very tall, large-boned but not heavy, woman hobbled by wearing tall wedged shoes that had straps all around the ankle...and a skirt that met her leg about six inches above the knee. He shook his head and said with a chuckle, "I don't understand". We talked much about the Lord, about church, about how some churches present over-bearing "requests" for people in church to 'serve the Lord' in specific places. We agreed that service is important, but that ministries can range from a mother staying home to minister to her young children, rather than hiring a sitter, so that her husband can go to choir rehearsal, all the way to the Pastor's position. He said "there will be lots of time later for that young mother to minister in the church, should the Lord lead her to do that."
We passed the time away in pleasant conversation, until Mr. M's brother was called in for his appointment. Off they went, leaving me with thanks God for bring me someone so kind to share the morning with. I didn't find out where the man lived, or what his name was, other than to hear the nurse call his brother by name. I thought I'd never see him again, but when Mom and I returned yesterday to the hospital for removal of the 24 hour monitor, guess who I met at the elevator! This time, the meeting was brief, as we needed to make our appointment, but what a joy to see him again and introduce him to Mom!
The Lord is good, bringing just the right person along, at just the right time, for just the right reasons..... and I'm grateful!
I heard that familiar sound of Mom's cane clicking against the floor and then she was out of hearing distance and out of sight as the doors closed behind her. I turned and went to the waiting room, choosing a seat at the end of the row near a small table. From there, I could watch the comings and goings of hospital personnel and where I'd be able to see Mom coming when she'd be ushered out. I tried to read, but it was impossible for me to do with the wall-hung tv blaring on the Fox channel. I thumbed through a current issue of Woman's Day magazine, absorbing very little.
Before long, I heard a male voice at the desk in the hall. I looked up to see two elderly men. One was a patient, the other was his younger brother. They came into the waiting room and chose chairs in 'my' row, leaving one vacant between us. The younger man looked at me, and as is the custom here in the south when someone looks you in the eye, I smiled and said good morning. It was the beginning of a conversation which went on for the remainder of the morning, until they were called to see the older man's doctor.
Mr. M. was easy to talk with, a true gentle man. He was a soft-spoken Christian man, and it was obvious in his statements and in his testimonies. Mr. M. told me that he's 84 years old and in very good health. His wife, he said, is not doing so well. He has two brothers and a sister, the oldest of whom is 93 years old, the youngest one, 78 years old. He spent his life as a farmer, starting out with cotton until the textile industry was sent overseas, and the local mills closed. Afterward they grew grains, and now they are, in his words, 'just cruising.' Being a northerner, I'm not familiar with the growing of cotton, and asked him if what we were told was true. "Does cotton deplete the soil so that it's not good for other crops?" He told me, "Not at all. You just harvest your crop, the machines cut the remainders, and it goes back into the soil. You feed your land the nutrients, and it'll grow things. Leave it alone, and you'll struggle." We talked about women's fashions after a very tall, large-boned but not heavy, woman hobbled by wearing tall wedged shoes that had straps all around the ankle...and a skirt that met her leg about six inches above the knee. He shook his head and said with a chuckle, "I don't understand". We talked much about the Lord, about church, about how some churches present over-bearing "requests" for people in church to 'serve the Lord' in specific places. We agreed that service is important, but that ministries can range from a mother staying home to minister to her young children, rather than hiring a sitter, so that her husband can go to choir rehearsal, all the way to the Pastor's position. He said "there will be lots of time later for that young mother to minister in the church, should the Lord lead her to do that."
We passed the time away in pleasant conversation, until Mr. M's brother was called in for his appointment. Off they went, leaving me with thanks God for bring me someone so kind to share the morning with. I didn't find out where the man lived, or what his name was, other than to hear the nurse call his brother by name. I thought I'd never see him again, but when Mom and I returned yesterday to the hospital for removal of the 24 hour monitor, guess who I met at the elevator! This time, the meeting was brief, as we needed to make our appointment, but what a joy to see him again and introduce him to Mom!
The Lord is good, bringing just the right person along, at just the right time, for just the right reasons..... and I'm grateful!
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Taking Leave....
While writing about the leaves of Fall the other day, I found myself with more thoughts than room to write them.
Do you remember collecting the prettiest of the fallen colored leaves? As kids, and as the mother of five little people, I have spent many an Autumn season searching for just the 'right' leaf. That ever-present sibling rivalry meant each of the kids would hunt for the 'best' one. Of course, since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, we actually all "won" the competition.
After we took the leaves back home, we would lay our piles out, carefully sorting them. The red and gold maples, the crimson tinged, the rust-colored, the brillian orange oaks, the bright yellow sassafras....each would be lined up and examined with a critical eye. The ones we chose as 'best' would then be placed between two layers of waxed paper, and Mom would seal them in with a warm iron. That would preserve their color for a little longer, and we could keep our treasure in our rooms to look at for as long as we wanted to.
Each year when Fall comes along, I bring some into the house in various ways. I look for lovely, fallen leaves, but I also bake some. A few years ago, I found a copper cookie cutter set of leaves and acorns.
There are several shaped leaves and sizes, and they cut the dough with true precision. The doughs are flavored with lemon, sugar and cinnamon, or spices similar to gingerbread. They are baked, and frosted with yellow, orange, red, and rust icings, and piped with dark brown veins. It's fun and creative, as well as tasty. This year, there are new pumpkin and apple shaped cookie cutters. It may be time to start that project!
And with that, I'll take my leave....
(PS: Visit my friend's blog for a giveaway! http://ajoyfulchaos.blogspot.com/2011/10/time-for-giveaway.html
Do you remember collecting the prettiest of the fallen colored leaves? As kids, and as the mother of five little people, I have spent many an Autumn season searching for just the 'right' leaf. That ever-present sibling rivalry meant each of the kids would hunt for the 'best' one. Of course, since beauty is in the eye of the beholder, we actually all "won" the competition.
After we took the leaves back home, we would lay our piles out, carefully sorting them. The red and gold maples, the crimson tinged, the rust-colored, the brillian orange oaks, the bright yellow sassafras....each would be lined up and examined with a critical eye. The ones we chose as 'best' would then be placed between two layers of waxed paper, and Mom would seal them in with a warm iron. That would preserve their color for a little longer, and we could keep our treasure in our rooms to look at for as long as we wanted to.
Each year when Fall comes along, I bring some into the house in various ways. I look for lovely, fallen leaves, but I also bake some. A few years ago, I found a copper cookie cutter set of leaves and acorns.
And with that, I'll take my leave....
(PS: Visit my friend's blog for a giveaway! http://ajoyfulchaos.blogspot.com/2011/10/time-for-giveaway.html
Friday, October 7, 2011
Those Autumn Leaves....
Here in SC we are just beginning to see the first signs of color on some of the trees. It will be a few weeks before the blazing glory that they usually show. It is so pretty here that I often wonder why so many people flock to the north of us to see the display of color. We did it,too, one year...and while the views from the mountain roads looking out over the valleys was indeed awesome, I feel the same way right here in our area when those colors come.
We've got a maple tree in the diciduous stand behind the house. It gives us the most beautiful, brilliant gold every year. There are several varieties of oaks and dogwoods, as well as the sweet gum trees with their 5 pointed leaves, and all never fail to offer their vibrant gifts. Combined with the dark greens of the pines and cedars, it's never a disappointment.
When I grew up on eastern Long Island, NY, there were always leaves to rake. There must have been a certain Tom Sawyer game going on between parents and children to get us to rake, but we never caught on, if there was. We would rake the crisp, colored leaves into large piles, and then tear across the yard, taking turns destroying the crunchy mountains with our bodies. We'd pick up huge handsful of the leaves and toss them high into the air.
Eventually, all of the leaves would be raked out into the road in front of Grandma's house where we lived. Once the piles made it to the street, we were cautioned not to jump into those piles. For reasons of safety from passing cars, of course, but also because those piles would be burned and no one wanted to have to sweep them up again for that purpose. One early evening, the leaves would be ignited, and we kids would get to toss the horse chestnuts into the fire where they would pop and snap when the heat reached a certain point. The chestnuts were enclosed in a thick covering that had 1/2 inch 'stickers' on the outside. They weren't really sharp thorns, but they looked like they would be, and we collected bags full just so we could send them flying into the leaf fire. I never knew anyone to eat that sort of chestnut, althought it might have been an edible item. I tasted one when I was pretty young, and it was just fresh from the tree...green and bitter. That was it for me. I never ate another chestnut of any kind after that day.
From the time I was a youngster to this day, I've always loved the coming of Fall. The air seems clearer, the stars brighter, the days cooler, the sun more brilliant. The show-offy leaves a-turning, the rising woodsmoke on the night air and the brisk walks through the crispy, fallen, musty-smelling leaves, makes Fall one of my favorite times of the year...and this year reinforces that for me!
We've got a maple tree in the diciduous stand behind the house. It gives us the most beautiful, brilliant gold every year. There are several varieties of oaks and dogwoods, as well as the sweet gum trees with their 5 pointed leaves, and all never fail to offer their vibrant gifts. Combined with the dark greens of the pines and cedars, it's never a disappointment.
Eventually, all of the leaves would be raked out into the road in front of Grandma's house where we lived. Once the piles made it to the street, we were cautioned not to jump into those piles. For reasons of safety from passing cars, of course, but also because those piles would be burned and no one wanted to have to sweep them up again for that purpose. One early evening, the leaves would be ignited, and we kids would get to toss the horse chestnuts into the fire where they would pop and snap when the heat reached a certain point. The chestnuts were enclosed in a thick covering that had 1/2 inch 'stickers' on the outside. They weren't really sharp thorns, but they looked like they would be, and we collected bags full just so we could send them flying into the leaf fire. I never knew anyone to eat that sort of chestnut, althought it might have been an edible item. I tasted one when I was pretty young, and it was just fresh from the tree...green and bitter. That was it for me. I never ate another chestnut of any kind after that day.
From the time I was a youngster to this day, I've always loved the coming of Fall. The air seems clearer, the stars brighter, the days cooler, the sun more brilliant. The show-offy leaves a-turning, the rising woodsmoke on the night air and the brisk walks through the crispy, fallen, musty-smelling leaves, makes Fall one of my favorite times of the year...and this year reinforces that for me!
Thursday, October 6, 2011
A Chilly Day Means A Chili Day
The other day was so chilly that I just could not get warm. I had vowed not to turn on the heat yet, so I put on my sweat shirt over a turtleneck, my sweat pants and warm socks. I felt a little silly to think this Yankee girl was so cold when the temperature was in the low 60's in the South. My blood must have thinned since we moved south.
To take the chill off in the house, I decided to make an apple pie, which I did. It's a good thing I chose to do it then, too, as the apples would be good for nothing in a few more days. Then I determined that I'd make chicken chili for dinner with corn bread. I'm not a very fussy cook, but I can make an edible, and occaisionally 'delicious' meal. So, I got out 3 cans of white beans, a can of Mexican style stewed tomatoes, a couple of whole chicken legs, a handful of green and red and yellow bell pepper strips from our frozen supply and an onion. I cooked the chicken, then sauteed the chopped onion and peppers. After the chicken was cooked and cooled, I stripped it from the bones, and put it into the pot with the sauteed vegetables, immediately adding all the cans of beans and the tomatoes, which I chopped into small pieces. I stirred the combination and put it over a low burner to simmer. It was ready to eat as soon as it had heated through.
I'd been telling my mother for some time that I would be making chicken chili 'soon.' She repeatedly said that she didn't like chicken chili. I asked if she'd ever had it, and she didn't know, but the thought didn't 'enthuse' her, she said. So, I filled a small bowl with the thick soup and marched across the street to her house, determined to get her to taste it. Mom doesn't see much anymore, except a small periferal area. I told her I'd brought something for her to taste. She asked what it was, and I said, "Just taste it." So she did, and said, "Mmmm that's good. What is it?" I told her "chicken chili." Do you like it?" I asked. She said, with a mischievous look, "I don't like chicken chili, do I?" I gently punched her arm and said, with a grin, "no, I guess you don't. Shall I take the rest back home?" She said, "No, I'll eat if for supper." Score one for me! I decided that I'm going to do that with a lot of other foods that Mom says she doesn't like. It's kind of like feeding children, I guess. You have to introduce them to something before you tell them what it is!
The chili was hot and filling and very satisfying, especially with the cornbread, which I baked in my black iron skillet in the oven. (I'm convinced that the cast iron frying pan makes anything cooked in it taste better!) The pie was 'pretty good' too, if I do say so myself!
Autumn weather brings out the cook in me. I enjoy making hearty meals that come with the cooler weather...meatloaf, stews, roasts, thick soups and chilis. I like to bake pies and cookies, cakes too, but not so much. Looks like I'll be nudging the Chef husband to move over at the stove and counter for awhile!
To take the chill off in the house, I decided to make an apple pie, which I did. It's a good thing I chose to do it then, too, as the apples would be good for nothing in a few more days. Then I determined that I'd make chicken chili for dinner with corn bread. I'm not a very fussy cook, but I can make an edible, and occaisionally 'delicious' meal. So, I got out 3 cans of white beans, a can of Mexican style stewed tomatoes, a couple of whole chicken legs, a handful of green and red and yellow bell pepper strips from our frozen supply and an onion. I cooked the chicken, then sauteed the chopped onion and peppers. After the chicken was cooked and cooled, I stripped it from the bones, and put it into the pot with the sauteed vegetables, immediately adding all the cans of beans and the tomatoes, which I chopped into small pieces. I stirred the combination and put it over a low burner to simmer. It was ready to eat as soon as it had heated through.
I'd been telling my mother for some time that I would be making chicken chili 'soon.' She repeatedly said that she didn't like chicken chili. I asked if she'd ever had it, and she didn't know, but the thought didn't 'enthuse' her, she said. So, I filled a small bowl with the thick soup and marched across the street to her house, determined to get her to taste it. Mom doesn't see much anymore, except a small periferal area. I told her I'd brought something for her to taste. She asked what it was, and I said, "Just taste it." So she did, and said, "Mmmm that's good. What is it?" I told her "chicken chili." Do you like it?" I asked. She said, with a mischievous look, "I don't like chicken chili, do I?" I gently punched her arm and said, with a grin, "no, I guess you don't. Shall I take the rest back home?" She said, "No, I'll eat if for supper." Score one for me! I decided that I'm going to do that with a lot of other foods that Mom says she doesn't like. It's kind of like feeding children, I guess. You have to introduce them to something before you tell them what it is!
The chili was hot and filling and very satisfying, especially with the cornbread, which I baked in my black iron skillet in the oven. (I'm convinced that the cast iron frying pan makes anything cooked in it taste better!) The pie was 'pretty good' too, if I do say so myself!
Autumn weather brings out the cook in me. I enjoy making hearty meals that come with the cooler weather...meatloaf, stews, roasts, thick soups and chilis. I like to bake pies and cookies, cakes too, but not so much. Looks like I'll be nudging the Chef husband to move over at the stove and counter for awhile!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
A New Day...
Well, folks...cookie day got skipped...again! As often happens in life, a number of other things jumped in to my good intentions and stole away my time. Taking care of a dozen phone calls in regard to Mom's rental homes, contractors who have not met time constraints and arrival dates (by weeks!), and a number of other annoying little things.
One of those calls was to a lab who did routine bloodwork in June. As always, I paid at the time of service , and I'm now being billed for the same work. When I spoke to "Michelle", who was located in the billing office in another state, she gave me a couple of excuses as to why the bill had been sent out.
"Payment hasn't yet been received." My reply..."I paid the same day, as I do each time, at the front desk of the lab." Michelle responded, "Oh, I see. Your check was no good, so it wasn't ever applied to your account." Me: "Michelle, my check was perfectly fine. I had $700 plus in my checking account at the time, and there would be absolutely no reason for that check to be 'no good.' Michelle: "Well, it was held to be put through a second time, and it wasn't any good." Me, still politely: "I'm sorry, but that is not correct. I have never received a notice from the bank stating there was insufficient funds or a bounced check. I have not received a fee for such a check, and besides, I have overdraft protection at my bank. Something must be wrong on the billing end, because that check was good." Michelle: "Well, it's never gone through your bank, so you still owe this."
After a few more minutes of this nonsense, I told her I'd check with my bank. I first checked my monthly statements. No check. I went to the bank and the teller tried to find my check there, but could not locate it. Therefore, I must assume that my payment was never put through the system. Now I must make another call to that billing office. I will ask for my check to be returned or tell her to put it through, as it is still a good check. I KNOW she will tell me that the check has been destroyed. How do I know this? Because I have been through this exact scenerio once before...last year. I'm more than a little annoyed about this inefficiency, and I will begin to look for another lab. I do remember that day in June...the regular woman who works there at the desk was out to lunch, and my time with the 'fill in' was longer than necessary, as she couldn't figure out how to get into the computer without calling three people to get a password for access. From there, she couldn't figure out the billing program. I suspect that is where the trouble began. I wonder why they'd put a substitute at the desk, to receive payments who doesn't know how to operate their system?
So anyway,...the cookies didn't get made that day, but it's going to happen! Yes, Ben...they will be homemade cookies. Yes, my husband will be happy...and yes, you're all still invited to stop in!
One of those calls was to a lab who did routine bloodwork in June. As always, I paid at the time of service , and I'm now being billed for the same work. When I spoke to "Michelle", who was located in the billing office in another state, she gave me a couple of excuses as to why the bill had been sent out.
"Payment hasn't yet been received." My reply..."I paid the same day, as I do each time, at the front desk of the lab." Michelle responded, "Oh, I see. Your check was no good, so it wasn't ever applied to your account." Me: "Michelle, my check was perfectly fine. I had $700 plus in my checking account at the time, and there would be absolutely no reason for that check to be 'no good.' Michelle: "Well, it was held to be put through a second time, and it wasn't any good." Me, still politely: "I'm sorry, but that is not correct. I have never received a notice from the bank stating there was insufficient funds or a bounced check. I have not received a fee for such a check, and besides, I have overdraft protection at my bank. Something must be wrong on the billing end, because that check was good." Michelle: "Well, it's never gone through your bank, so you still owe this."
After a few more minutes of this nonsense, I told her I'd check with my bank. I first checked my monthly statements. No check. I went to the bank and the teller tried to find my check there, but could not locate it. Therefore, I must assume that my payment was never put through the system. Now I must make another call to that billing office. I will ask for my check to be returned or tell her to put it through, as it is still a good check. I KNOW she will tell me that the check has been destroyed. How do I know this? Because I have been through this exact scenerio once before...last year. I'm more than a little annoyed about this inefficiency, and I will begin to look for another lab. I do remember that day in June...the regular woman who works there at the desk was out to lunch, and my time with the 'fill in' was longer than necessary, as she couldn't figure out how to get into the computer without calling three people to get a password for access. From there, she couldn't figure out the billing program. I suspect that is where the trouble began. I wonder why they'd put a substitute at the desk, to receive payments who doesn't know how to operate their system?
So anyway,...the cookies didn't get made that day, but it's going to happen! Yes, Ben...they will be homemade cookies. Yes, my husband will be happy...and yes, you're all still invited to stop in!
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Cookie Day
It's 65 degrees in my living room right now. Some windows are open in the sun room and the bedroom, but everything else is closed up because it's down-right chilly outside. I think it's a day for cookie baking...among other things.
The oven will warm out the house, so I think I'll do them fairly early. As the day progresses, the temperatures will rise, and then I won't want to bake. Besides, there are outside things I want to get done today.
So, shall I make chocolate chip cookies or should it be brownies or oatmeal or lemon bars? I must make one choice...I don't want to be in the kitchen all day! If I eat breakfast first, which I must because I'm currently famished, I probably won't want to make the cookies anymore.
But I'll do it anyway...because I haven't baked anything in ages. Mike will be pleased to wake up to the fragrance of something yummy, and he'll be happy to do some real damage to a batch of homemade treats! I surely do not need them to add to my 'hippie' status, but if they're there, I can tell you truthfully that I'll be eating some (translataion, "too many") of them.
Well, enough procrastination...here I go! Breakfast first, then cookies. Come on over if you can smell them baking! I'd gladly share the joy of adding to your hips!
The oven will warm out the house, so I think I'll do them fairly early. As the day progresses, the temperatures will rise, and then I won't want to bake. Besides, there are outside things I want to get done today.
So, shall I make chocolate chip cookies or should it be brownies or oatmeal or lemon bars? I must make one choice...I don't want to be in the kitchen all day! If I eat breakfast first, which I must because I'm currently famished, I probably won't want to make the cookies anymore.
But I'll do it anyway...because I haven't baked anything in ages. Mike will be pleased to wake up to the fragrance of something yummy, and he'll be happy to do some real damage to a batch of homemade treats! I surely do not need them to add to my 'hippie' status, but if they're there, I can tell you truthfully that I'll be eating some (translataion, "too many") of them.
Well, enough procrastination...here I go! Breakfast first, then cookies. Come on over if you can smell them baking! I'd gladly share the joy of adding to your hips!
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