It's A New Day

One Step Ahead

I love Google. It's my go-to resource for all sorts of things from recipes to how to get my ancient iPod to play nice with my new computer. It's like a giant, all-knowing swami who has an answer for everything.

What I don't like is Google's new privacy policy, or as I prefer to think of it, a less-privacy policy. This new policy which goes into effect March 1enables Google to bundle the personal information gathered by its Internet search engine and other services (such as Gmail, YouTube and others) all under one giant umbrella with your name on it. They claim this will help them gain a better understanding of their users so they can deliver more helpful information to them.

Call me cynical but what it really means is they want more data so they can sell more advertising and or/charge more for it. It's not that it's a new practice; now they're going to combine the data they mine across all their products and add it to what they learned about you when you set up the accounts to create a single profile. Those who know much more about this than I have said that such data synthesizing will allow Google to look at everything a user does online and tie it back to specific individuals.

Me...I'm not so keen on that idea. I don't get paranoid about privacy on the Internet but I do try to be smart about it. And there's something about this that just sticks in my craw. And apparently it sticks in the craw of a few other people too. There are lawsuits by privacy group watchdogs, threatening letters by the Attorneys General of 36 states, and even outrage from foreign governments that the new policy violates their laws. Turns out it's quite the to-do.

I suppose one remedy would be to stop using Google products all together but then I'd wouldn't have a quick and easy way to reassure myself that I made the correct choice between all together and altogether when the need arises...like just now.  PCWorld and a number of others in the know are recommending that people a different response.

If you act before March 1, you can delete your Google browsing history so they can't use what they've already collected and put the future gathering process on pause. They'll still collect the information, according to what I've read, but it will be anonymous rather than tied to your user account. And if you encounter problems down the road that make using Google products unsatisfactory, you can always go back in and turn the Web Browsing History back on. After March 1, you can't opt out.

This article gives one of the best step-by-step explanations I've seen on how to do that. I followed the instructions yesterday and have Googled to my heart's content today without noticing any difference. Just let me remind you that I'm not a computer expert nor did I sleep in a Holiday Inn Express last night so do your own research and act accordingly.

I like to think of it as staying one step ahead of Google...or maybe it should be leap, given the date.

On the Other Side of the Screen

Blogs are a funny thing. Some have likened them to an online journal, and I suppose that's true to an extent. I don't set out to write with the specific purpose in mind of recording things to remember them later but obviously that happens. More than once I've scrolled back through blog entries to find out when this or that occurred but I tend to think of that as a side benefit.

For me, the blog is more like a one-sided conversation...I write just like I talk. Sometimes I have someone in particular in mind and the blog post is written almost to them. Whether they know it or not remains to be seen but that's how my convoluted mind works. And sometimes I'm just writing to everyone who might be on the other side of the screen.

I never know who's reading exactly and that's O.K. In fact, it's probably better that way. There are some apps you can put on blogs that keep track of where visitors come from but I was never interested in that. Whether there's two or 2,000 readers doesn't matter; writing is another creative outlet for me and that's why I blog.

I write all that as background so can understand how surprised I was a couple of weeks ago to find a comment on the post I wroteabout our gang of friends having a romantic Valentine's dinner at Waffle House. That would be the comment made by Steve Jackson, the manager of said Waffle House and host for the evening. I can only guess he was Googling for press about the event to pass on to his higher-ups and somehow ended up on my blog. Since he told us Valentine's night that he'd been interviewed by CNN and a host of other media outlets, I'm pretty impressed that he took the time to leave a comment on my little ol' blog.

But it doesn't end there. Yesterday morning my buddy Bonnie called...as in Bonnie, the only one who looked good in the group photo of all of us taken that night. Did I know, she said, that a print-out of my blog post was on the bulletin board in Waffle House? No, I didn't...but I was flattered. Well, flattered that he liked my writing, that is. I was secretly wishing the rest of us looked as good in the picture as Bonnie did. But it's kinda cool that he was interested in sharing my version of the great time we had that evening and maybe it will motivate some more people to join in next year.

It's always fun when blog posts take on a life of their own on the other side of the screen.

Warming Up From The Inside Out

As I rounded the first corner on my walk today, my body gave a little shiver. Despite my warm clothes, I was cold. I know what the thermometer said when I left the house but it felt much colder. There was no sunshine to give me a sense of warmth even if it was a false one, and while it wasn't raining as had been predicted, it was definitely damp. Throughout the walk, it would seem no matter what direction I was headed, it seemed the wind was in my face. So as I ticked off the miles, I just kept thinking about how good that warm soup I had planned for supper was going to taste.

And it was even better than I imagined. In fact, it was outstanding.

I shouldn't have been surprised as it came highly recommended. Carol had made it a week or two ago and raved about it and those sentiments were echoed by Bonnie who claimed it was responsible for curing her cold when Carol sent over a bowl after hearing Bonnie was under the weather. I'm not sure I can vouch for it having any magical powers but I do know I was tempted to lick the bowl...it was that good.

And easy too. Minimal chopping, plenty of prepared ingredients (like tortellini from the refrigerated pasta section of the grocery store) and ready in a hurry, relatively speaking for soup anyway. What's not to love about all that? I did take Carol's advice and use Kitchen Basics stock instead of the brand of chicken broth I usually buy. It really was more rich and flavorful...and the bonus is it has less sodium. I think I've found a new staple for my pantry.

I've found a new addition to our soup rotation too as we both really liked it. Nothing like a big bowl of tasty soup to warm you up from the inside out.

Tortellini Soup

2 Tbsp. olive oil
4 oz. Canadian bacon, finely diced
3 cloves garlic
1 medium onion, finely chopped
9 c. chicken broth
2 tsp. Italian seasoning
2 (9 oz.) pkg. cheese tortellini
1 (28 oz.) can tomato sauce
salt and pepper
1 c. grated Parmesan cheese
8 oz fresh spinach, chopped (optional...but trust me, you want it in there)

Heat olive oil, add bacon, garlic and onion. Cook until lightly browned, about 10-15 minutes. Add chicken broth and herbs. Bring to a boil and stir in tortellini. Simmer uncovered until tortellini is cooked, another 10-12 minutes. Stir in tomato sauce and simmer another 5 minutes. Add spinach, if using, and cook just until wilted, about 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Add Parmesan cheese when serving. Serves 6-8 people. (Original source: Janice Hershberger, Berlin Mennonite Church cookbook)

Where's "Who Do You Think You Are?" When You Need Them?

I've been lost for three days high up in the branches of Wayne's tree. It's been like a good mystery story...first I'm leaning one way and then I'm headed in another. And while I love a good mystery, I'm just not sure this one has an ending.

I've been researching in Wayne's maternal grandfather's tree, finding good success documenting the information Wayne's mom had given us years ago back to Amanda Neville, Wayne's great-great grandmother. I knew her father was James Neville and his father was James Neville but had only scant information on them and little else. Census records gave me the names of spouses and I was able to find some marriage information too.

The real mystery came in going beyond that. There were plenty of family trees on Ancestry.com that included fathers, grandfathers and even more but half of them had one series of names for the wives/mothers and the other half had an entirely different set of names. It wasn't second marriages; it was different people entirely. It didn't make any sense.

Late last night I stumbled on a reference to the book The Neville Family of England and the United Statesand I spent the morning downloading, reading and compiling about 70 pages from it. It traces the journey of John Neville who left Gravesend, England, in 1632 on either The Ark or The Dove on the first expedition to the planned colony of Maryland. The expedition was led by the son of Lord Baltimore and when they arrived on the shores of America some three months later, they established the first settlement in what later became the state of Maryland.

Parts of the book are the boring lists of names, birth dates and marriages of John Neville's descendants but a lot of it is in narrative form and quite interesting. Like the diary of a Catholic priest who was aboard The Ark and described the terrible storms they endured and his impressions upon arriving. And of Gen. John Neville and his son Presley Neville who served at different times with Gen. George Washington. They aren't Wayne's direct ancestors but Gen. John's brother James is (Wayne's 5th great-grandfather) and he also served in the Revolutionary War.

Pretty cool, huh? I should have stopped there.

But I didn't. And what I uncovered then was that there are plenty of people who think that John Neville,  ancestor of Gen. John, Presley and our James, isn't the same John Neville who was on The Ark or The Dove. A letter written by Presley in 1803 but not discovered among his papers until 2003 claims our John Neville came from England all right but he didn't arrive until 1679 and he came to Virginia. He does, however, have an interesting story. He was kidnapped as a youth and brought to America for profit. Apparently it was a common practice at the time...a forced servitude as a clerk or overseer until you earned enough money to buy your freedom, assuming such a day ever came. According to the letter, John was educated and personable enough he escaped the servitude and went on to accumulate quite an estate in Virginia.

The mystery of why there are two sets of women's names matching up with the Neville men is solved but the bigger mystery remains: Which version is right? As much as I hate giving up the great story of the Atlantic crossing and a connection to Colonial Maryland, there's stronger proof for the kidnapped John Neville. I can definitely connect Wayne's James Neville to Gen. John Neville, and it's Gen. John's son Presley who wrote the family history about his great-grandfather being kidnapped and coming to America in 1679.

Now I can go back to what I was doing two days ago...trying to document James Neville's Revolutionary War service. Lucky for me, that's not a mystery...I've already got the records bookmarked.

Photo Connections

I love old photos...but then I'm not telling you something you didn't already know. I haven't exactly kept that a secret. The faces, the clothing, the background...I study them all, willing the little rectangle of black-and-white paper to revel the answers to all the questions I have about the picture but it never happens.

The photo above is a great example. The bearded gentleman in the middle is Wayne's great-great-grandfather, John Gottlieb Pippig, and the men to his right are two of his sons, Lewis and William who Wayne's great-grandfather. That's Wayne's grandmother there on the front row, the girl second from the left seated next to her little sister with her older brother a bit farther down to the right. Beyond that it's a mystery. Wayne's dad and his only cousin on this side of the family are getting together tomorrow to put their heads together and see if they can come up with the identities of some of the others in the photo. Judging by the size of the children we know, we're guessing the picture was probably taken about 1908 or 1909, long before either of them was born but we're still hopeful.

We're lucky they both still live in the town where they grew up, making a meet-up like this an easy possibility, but that isn't always the case. I think that's why I was intrigued by the 1000Memories website designed to make organizing and sharing old photos easier. You upload your old photos, add dates or other information then share them with others who can supply more photos and/or information from their resources. It's sort of like Facebook for yesteryear. There's even a feature that will let you create a family tree with pictures so future generations can easily see how Aunt Ruth fits into the whole picture.

I did something similar for a lot of the old photos my Dad had given me, sharing them with my brother and cousin via Picassa and while it worked, there were some frustrations too. I can't say 1000Memories is better but I'm certainly eager to give it a try. The site is free, there are no time limits on how long your photos will be available nor are there limitations on the size of your online album. You can make your album private so only those you invite can see the photos or you can make them public. I must confess I spent more than a few minutes scrolling through the recent uploads to the public galleries, mesmerized by both snapshots from the 60's and family portraits like the one above. And if I had a newer iPhone with a better camera, I'd be all over the Shoebox app they offer to make getting the photos on the site easier but I'll stick with my scanner for now.

They're talking vintage photos over at Write.Click.Scrapbook this week too. Follow the link then scroll down to Monday's entry so you get all of the ideas of what you can do with photos from days gone by.

Obvious, there are lots of other people who love old photos too.

Let's Hear It For Tuesday

My friend Torm has a thing for Mondays...it's her favorite day of the week, made even better if it falls on the first day of the month. Me? Not so much. Mondays are too much the same from week to week. The same dirty laundry to wash, the same messy floors to mop, wrapped up with the same pile of ironing to tackle. I'm good with routine but it means the only thing to love about Monday is that the biggest share of the week's household work is done when it's over.

Now Tuesdays are another matter. Tuesdays have possibilities. They start with yoga and that's always good for something unexpected. Like today when we stood on our heads. Well, make that the instructor stood on her head. The rest of us did one of the two headstand prep poses. Needless to say, I was in the most basic one but hey...everyone has to start somewhere. It's reassuring to note that I wasn't alone. I may never master a headstand but I love the idea of taking on new challenges, especially physical ones, at a time in life when many people don't. Maybe they will keep me going that much longer.

And this particular Tuesday ended with a little road trip and dinner with someone special. Yesterday was our oldest son's birthday although he claims he is no longer having them. I told him that reasoning won't work on someone who has twenty more of them than he does so he might as well just enjoy the celebration. I'm not sure he agreed but he was happy to see us when we drove over to Biloxi to have dinner with him.

Getting there was a bit of a challenge though as it's Fat Tuesday, the big finale to Mardi Gras. Now you wouldn't think a two-hour drive on the interstate would be affected by Mardi Gras but it was. New Orleans gets all the attention forits celebration but Mardi Gras is a big deal in Mobile which claims it has the oldest tradition. On Fat Tuesday the parades start early and run often on a route through the downtown area; unfortunately, the interstate runs right along side that same downtown area. It can be congested on a good day but traffic barely moved through there today.

In the end we were about thirty minutes late but no one seemed to mind. We had a tasty dinner, told stories and shared laughs, and overall applauded Brad turning one year older. It was a warm and relaxing night...just the way a celebration with family should be.

Yessiree, Tuesday was a great day. Maybe it's time Tuesday and all the possibilities that come with it get the attention they deserve.

Momma's Little Helper

For the second Sunday in a row, dinner came out of the crockpot. Tonight's fare...red beans and rice. It is Mardi Gras season, after all. And it was a version that would have made any Cajun proud, if I do say so myself, with enough spice to make you say ooooo-eeeee but no so much you weren't looking forward to the next bite.

The old crockpot is finding its way out of the closet more and more these days and that's a bit of a surprise given the fact that I'm at home most of the time. It's not like I have a job to go to and want to have a meal ready when I arrive home from work. But there are times when it's nice to get the chopping and sauteing and clean-up all out of the way and just leave it thing to simmer the better part of the day. It sure makes getting dinner on the table at night a breeze.

And it was perfect for a day like today. Wayne headed off to Mississippi for a day of caching with a friend and he wasn't sure what time he'd be home. Turns out it was almost 7:30pm but that was fine...dinner was on the table just minutes after he walked in the door. Red beans and rice was an ideal choice too; we could have eaten it at 6:00pm but the extra cooking time didn't hurt the beans. In fact, they might have benefited from it.

I'm pretty basic when it comes to cooking in the crockpot...roast, some soups, anything that benefits from long, slow cooking times. But I'm watching the Crockin' Girls Facebook page for the Chicken Tortilla Soup recipe they're planning to post tomorrow. I love a good chicken tortilla soup and they seem to have plenty of recipes that get rave reviews. I may have to branch out from my tried-and-true crockpot meals and try something new.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying the convenience of letting the slow cooker do all the work. It's like having a little helper in the kitchen.

Tunes and Treadmills

It was a rainy Saturday, for the most part. Not the best weather for Mardi Gras parades but they did manage to get the one in downtown Pensacola in before the severe weather hit. Weather Underground says we got 2.12" and it isn't out of here yet. Wayne had to move the grill inside the screen enclosure in order to cook supper tonight, it was raining and blowing that hard. I tried to convince him to let me cook the chicken inside but he was determined, and actually, it let up enough that it wasn't that bad. And, of course, the chicken tasted better cooked on the grill too.

All that rain meant I headed for the gym to walk on the treadmill. It was me and the jocks...big, muscle-bound guys throwing big, heavy weights around. Well, there was one jockette...a girl who's legs were nothing but a blur of motion as she spent her time on the elliptical machine before she joined the guys out where the weights are. I had visions of all the men sucking their guts in at that point ala the GoDaddy.com commercial with Jillian Michaels.

I was happy to have the room where the treadmills are to myself most of the time. Given a choice, I'd rather be walking outside where I can hear the birds, see the sky and breathe fresh air but the treadmill is a great option on days like today. And I try to get the most out of it, too. I concentrate on standing up taller, pressing my belly button to my spine and walking as fast as I can. My mind can't focus on all those things when there are cars, dogs and uneven pavement to watch out for. It makes for a good workout.

Today I tried something different...I listened to music on my phone. I rarely do that when I walk the neighborhood, partly because as I said I like hearing the birds but I also don't think it's terribly safe to have your ears plugged up when you're on the streets. Those aren't issues in the gym. In fact, having my ears plugged up is an advantage since the televisions in the cardio room are almost always tuned to ESPN or some other channel showing sporting events. I've been just ignoring them but it was nice to have something pleasant to drown them out.

There are two pitfalls to listening to music while on the treadmill. First, I had to overcome my natural tendency to fall in step with the rhythm of the music. The music loaded on my phone is smooth jazz and while there are some up-tempo songs, I could just go sliding off the back of the belt if I kept pace with some of the slower ones. And the other issue was I had to resist the urge to hum along, especially with some of my more favorite tunes. Fortunately, most of the tunes are instrumentals or I might have found myself singing out loud...much to my embarrassment, I might add.

Overall, I'd say it was a successful experiment. In the past I've watched the bars of lights blink on and off or the miles/duration gradually grow, just to have something to focus on but I sort of got lost in the music and before I knew it, another ten minutes was gone. I don't know how people read on a treadmill...if you're going slow enough to see words on a page then you might want to consider upping your speed; otherwise, what's the point? But music...I'm thinking that's a nice addition to my treadmill time.

Sad But True

A few weeks ago I read an article titled "Anything Good in the Mail?" It was probably in USA Today...our local mullet wrapper never has anything that interesting. Anyway, the gist of the article was that gone are the days when we head to the mailbox with anticipation in our hearts. Letters are rare and even bills are almost non-existent given the convenience of online billing. All that's left is junk mail and where's the excitement in that? Sadly, the answer to the question posed was no, there's nothing good in the mail these days.

 

That's our experience too. Today's take was two pieces of advertising...it's hardly worth walking to the street to get. I'm not sure we received any first class mail all week although I can't remember if the bank statement came early this week or late last week. It's one of only a handful of "real" mail still arriving on a regular basis. And our outgoing mail is just about as non-existent; I only have one monthly bill and one quarterly bill that aren't paid online.

It's kind of a shame too because we now have the nicest mailman. He always hollers and waves and sometimes stops to talk when I pass him in the neighborhood while I'm walking. He's such a change from the old sourpuss he replaced. I'd barely get a grunt of acknowledgement from him if I hollered "thank you" when I was outside and he stuck things in the box. The only conversation we ever had was once when I went to warn him that there were martins nesting in the paper slot below the box and the momma bird would dart out whenever anyone approached the box. I didn't want her to fly into his Jeep and startle him. It was the one occasion he got very animated and told me a story about opening a box to find a snake someone had put in there, apparently to frighten him. My thought was that knowing the mailman, the snake was probably more scared of Mr. Grumpypants.

We made a point to buy a roll of "forever" stamps just before the price of stamps went up. The roll we had was getting low and I figured we just as well get them at the lower price. Looks like that was a smart decision as today's news reports that the cost of a first class stamp is going up to $.50 plus they're eliminating Saturday delivery. Just as well...there's nothing good in the mail anyway.

Found Money

Unlike a lot of women, I've never had that experience of transferring my belongings to a purse dug out of the closet only to find it had been put away with money in it. That's probably because I hate changing purses so I just don't. I carry a purse until it needs replacing so my belongings are going in something new instead of a bag from the back of the closet. In fact, I doubt there are any bags in the back of the closet.

And I never put on a coat or jacket from last season and find money in the pocket. Holding on to old purses is rare for me but putting money in my pockets is an even more isolated incident...it just doesn't happen. That's what billfolds are for.

So I've kind missed out on that thrill of having extra money just show up. Maybe that's why I was so delighted when the girl at the scrapbook store this morning told me I had $40.40 in credit. It's found money.

You see, the store has a consignment area where customers can bring in unwanted supplies to sell to other scrappers...sort of an ongoing garage sale you don't have to sit out in the heat to man. You bring your items in, price them and put them on the shelves or tables for resale. Each seller is assigned a number so it's doubtful buyers know whose cast-offs they're buying although I doubt that would really make much difference. When it sells, the store takes 20% of the proceeds and puts your 80% into store credit.

I had taken a few things over there about a month ago. Mine happened to be mostly new...a set of Quik Cut dies I'd won at a trade show, a laminator sent as a promotion, some chalk sets and templates from who knows where, all things that have been taking up space on shelves and in drawers for far too long. I wasn't going to use them but someone else certainly could. Merchandise doesn't have to be new though; there are even packages of embellishments for sale where the original owner used one or two and has no need for the rest.

Just like a garage sale, the secret is pricing it right cheap. My theory is I want it gone so it needs a price that makes someone want to buy it. And apparently that theory worked because everything I took over there sold. Now I have $40 in credit to apply toward some new albums I desperately need.

I suppose I could have a big clean-up campaign and haul a bunch of stuff over there to sell but a) that sounds like a lot of work and b) I kind of like the happy little feeling I get hearing I've earned a few coins. I took over another $10 or $12 worth of unwanted stuff this morning.

Going to the scrapbook store is always fun; it's just a little more so now that something's going in my pocket instead of just out of it. Of course, Wayne will tell you I'm buying more than I'm selling but that's not the point. Found money is still a good thing.

Stories

I'm still lost in pages of family history...still following those little green leaves on Wayne's ancestors, too. We're blessed that we had a lot, and I do mean a lot of information to start with plus this isn't our first trip down the genealogy path. On some lines we can go back nine or ten generations and one even more than that. When you consider that the number of direct ancestors in that line doubles every generation, that makes for a lot of people to look at.

A few blanks are being filled in but mostly I'm looking for documentation onthe information that we have. Sometimes that comes in the form of public records, like a census or marriage record...those aren't too exciting. But I've been in the books too, and then it gets interesting because that's where you find the stories. Like this one about the death of Wayne's fifth great-grandfather, Roland McReynolds, as conveyed by his cousin Benjamin:

"The most of my uncle's sons became professors, but with me it is a very doubtful case whether any of them were professors of true religion. The whole of them indulged too much in the use of spirituous liguors. Roland, whose name I forgot to insert in the carelogue of his children's names, although a member, and if my memory serves me right, an Elder in the Presbyterian church, having drank too much whisky, wandered out of his path, on his way from the store home, and was found next day dead and frozen, with his jug with a little whisky in it sitting beside him. He was father of our friend, Leonard McReynolds, the Shaker." (misspellings all in the original)

Poor Roland. He was, however, 75 at the time which was a pretty ripe old age for the late 1700's.

Reading this and the other stories about the McReynolds line got me to thinking What stories will be have to leave future generations? I'm finding what I'm finding because someone wanted to record their ancestors' journeys to new territories or the history of the settlement of a new county or state; we don't have much of that now. What frontiers are we going to find that will make our lives interesting to those who come after us?

I'd like to think the scrapbooks I've made are at least a partial answer to that question but then I think of poor Roland. None of us are going to include stories like his in our scrapbooks; details like that would be swept under the rug in many families, not recorded for posterity. And yet they make a connection to a faceless ancestor possible.

I guess I worry that in a day and age when photos live on cellphones and computers instead of albums and boxes and communications between families come via email and Facebook instead of letters and cards that the stories will get lost. And that makes me sad because the stories are one of the best parts.

So here's my challenge: Next time your extended family gets together, tell some stories. They can be about your childhood or you can ask your parents or grandparents to tell some from their childhood...it doesn't matter. Then find a way to record them, even if it's just you going home and typing them up in a Word document. If you tell different stories every time you get together, pretty soon you'll have your own history book for future generations. Hopefully you won't have any sad but funny stories of relatives meeting their demise with a jug of whiskey at their side but if you do, you do. You can't change history but you can record it. Thanks to that story we have a better picture of Roland that we got from a deed or census record, and so will you from your stories whatever they may be. Future generations will thank you, I know.

Hopeless Romantics

There are four couples of us that hang out together. We're all about the same age, all live within a few blocks of one another and all play golf. Well, seven of them play golf...and I might again someday so they're friends with me anyway. If you're in town and don't have a good excuse otherwise, you'll be part of the dinner plans on Wednesday and Friday nights. Except for right now when we've shifted Wednesday to Tuesday so some of the girls can go to a bible study class.

That meant, of course, that we'd be dining out on Valentine's Day. No problem, offered Dr. Dale...he knew just where we should go. Soft lights, holiday decor, even a special menu just for the occasion...he'd even make reservations. Sounds lovely, right?

Here's where we went:

Our local Waffle House was one of a select few in the chain offering special Valentine's Day meals complete with tablecloths and candles in the booths, red garland and lacy hearts strung from the ceiling and subdued lighting to complete the romantic mood. I've never heard of Waffle House taking reservations but it was a good thing they did on this occasion because it was as crowded as any weekend morning. Not that I hang out at Waffle House on the weekends but it's pretty obvious what the conditions are given the parking lot when you drive by. Dr. Dale and Carol do though as it's a regular stop for them after church and they greeted all the staff by name when we arrived tonight.

Here are the guys who sat at the counter while we dined at a booth not far away. We've all been married so long no one gave a second thought to the idea that we'd be eating at separate tables on Valentine's Day. Waffle House doesn't have any tables big enough to accommodate six. The photo does show a little of the decorations and the crowds waiting for us to leave so they could have our seats. Some of them no doubt came because there was a story about the "event" on the front page of the Pensacola paper. As a result the manager said he'd spent a good part of the day talking to radio stations and reporters, including one from CNN.

And you know what? It was just hokey enough to be a lot of fun. The same Waffle House regular pictured in overalls in this morning's paper was back tonight in a nice sports coat and fedora, holding hands across the table with his wife in her sequined top. But there were plenty of people there in jeans too. It is Waffle House, after all. The special menu included steak, pork chops and chicken with red velvet cupcakes for dessert. While we were there, they were continuing to receive calls inquiring about reservations and the response was the first open time was 8:30pm. There were plenty of managers greeting people and thanking them profusely for coming. As customers left, one of them handed each lady a red rose.

I handed the camera off to a gentleman outside who took this photo of all of us. It's good of Bonnie (in the middle) but the rest of us really did have a better time than it looks like from the picture. Waffle House parking lots at night just aren't the ideal locale for good photography.

Scattered, smothered, covered, cuddled and kissed...that pretty much sums up our Waffle House Valentine's experience. What a bunch of hopeless romantics we all are!

On Sunday

On Sunday I lingered over the morning paper, always glad to have the extra sections and bonus stories to read that the day brings. I don't know that I learn anything more than I do the rest of the week when the paper is thin but it feels indulgent to thumb through all those pages...and the funny papers too.

On Sunday Wayne ignored the freezing temperatures and hit the caching trails. He said he could see his breath as he walked through the woods out at the University but the trees blocked the wind so it wasn't too bad. And he has on his fuzzy hat with the ear flaps for extra warmth.

On Sunday the lemon tree spent the day in the garage. The thermometer might have inched up to 50 degrees today but the wind was out of the north and it seemed even colder. The unexpected benefit of that was that the garage smelled really nice as a result since the lemon tree is covered with blooms.

On Sunday dinner was underway early...pot roast with potatoes and carrots in the crockpot. That, of course, made the inside of the house smell delicious all afternoon. More comfort food to chase away the chill. I don't use the crockpot a lot but always appreciate having the meal all ready without investing late afternoon hours when I do.

On Sunday Wayne put together a bookcase for his computer room. It's nothing elaborate but it will provide some needed storage for books, etc., that was lost when he dismantled one of the desks that had been in there. One can never have too much storage space.

On Sunday I got my miles in but it wasn't in the neighborhood; I did them on the treadmill at the gym. And I'm so grateful to have that option. All things being equal, I'd rather be walking outside where I can listen to the birds and breathe in fresh air...just not when it's 50 degrees.

On Sunday the back yard was filled with robins. I've heard their funny little chirps off and on over the past week or so but hadn't really seen any but they were out in force in the late afternoon. Surely that means spring is on it's way. I just hope it will be to stay.

She's A Cruel, Cruel Woman

Like the sirens in Greek mythology who lured the sailors to crash their ship against the rocky shores, Mother Nature seduced us into thinking winter was a non-event this year. After all, more than half the days in January posted temperatures of 70 degrees or more. I thought it was wonderful.

So did the azaleas...there are blooms in all of them. In fact, the bush nearest the front door is almost in full bloom, filled with deep magenta-colored blooms. The double-pinks, smaller that those pictured above but with a double flower, are my favorite and, wisely, they're more cautious. You can see pink in all the bushes but the number of blooms bursting forward is much smaller.

Good thing as the forecast low for tonight is 22 degrees. Brrrr! I wouldn't like 22 degrees during a normal winter but it seems especially cold after the mild one we've had this year. And yes, I realize many area of the county have it much colder and some are even dealing with snow...but this is Florida, people!

So I've rigged two make-shift shelters consisting of old birdseed buckets for height, an old moving pallet for warmth and a couple of bricks for weights to protect both the blueberry bush and a pair of Inca lilies. Well, at least I hope it will protect them. If it really gets down to 22 degrees, that may not be enough. The rest will just have to fend for themselves. It does make for an easy decision on trimming the crepe myrtles though; all those baby green leaves will be black after tonight's temperatures. They just may all be cut back by Valentine's day after all.

The good news is I picked up two turtlenecks for $3 each today. If we're getting frigid temperatures at this late date, I'm going to take advantage of the winter close-outs to dress accordingly. And I'd like nothing better than to only wear them once...until next winter, of course.

We chased away the winter chill with homemade Roasted Tomato Basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches for supper. Mother Nature may be playing a cruel joke on us with this weather but good old comfort food will give us the last laugh.

And Tuesday's predicted high? It's 70 degrees.

It Explains A Lot

After this morning's tough pilates/yoga workout, I was grateful for the opportunity to spend the day right here at my computer. The keyboard and I are old friends now as we navigate the black hole of family history. I'm half-way through my free two-week trial membership at Ancestry.com and haven't finished following all the little green leaves that serve as clues for more information in Wayne's side of the family tree let alone start on mine. We're thinking we're going to have to join for real, at least for a while, because we're just enjoying what we're discovering too much to let it go.

Like this old photo of Wayne's great-grandfather at age 18. Someone who has some of the same lineage as Wayne had shared it and we're thrilled to have it. Off the top of my head I don't think we had any pictures of him at all but I haven't dug through the old photos to be sure.

I've added 85 photos, records and stories into my family tree program. That's one of the things I really like about this software...you can collect all the information in one place and link it to every person it pertains to. So while the photo above would only be linked to Thomas Oliver Arnall, the 1880 Census entry would link to him and everyone in his family who lived with him at the time. That doesn't happen automatically, of course; that's where me and the keyboard come in. It's not quite as straightforward as it might seem either. There are multiple Thomas Arnalls in the family so you have to link to the right one which entails lots of virtual flipping back and forth between the pages of information. And you have to know that the name on the Census might have been a family nickname rather than the actual given name. It's impossible to find Julia in the index unless you know her real name is Fema Augusta. It's a rather tedious process but also a rewarding one.

We're finding stories too...of a relative here to served with Sherman when he marched to Atlanta in the Civil War, of another there (a Missouri resident) who was killed during the Civil War by "Kansas redlegs," and even one who's census entry showed he resided in the insane asylum. That wasn't, however, the reason I chose It Explains a Lot as my title...although maybe it fits as well.

Today I found information on two different lines that allowed me to extend them back an additional two generations. One in particular got me thinking because it took this branch of the family back to Germany. I was mentally adding up just how much of Wayne's family has roots in Germany and it's a lot, on both his mother's and his father's side. After I rattled off to him all the German parts of his family, I concluded by saying I now understood why he was so stubborn...it's in his genes. It's a little like the pot calling the kettle black though as I have German blood too.

The stories we're uncovering are never going to be featured on Who Do You Think You Are? but some are pretty darn interesting. And I think that the more you find out about those who came before you, the more you understand about who you are. And we're going to understand a whole lot more when this process is done...if that day ever comes.

Plan B?

Like any new resident, we had lots of questions about the plants and trees growing in our yard when we first moved here. The locals were really good about answering our questions and sharing their knowledge. One bit of advice that always stuck with me was that roses and crepe myrtle trees should be trimmed on February 14. I think that stuck with me so well because it was tied to a specific (and memorable) date as opposed to something more general, like when the blooms fade. So like a good NW Floridian, I've obeyed the rules and cut the roses and crepe myrtles back as close to February 14 as my schedule would allow.

The theory behind this timing is that the plants are dormant since that date generally coincides with our coldest time of year...well, for any year but this one. As I've pointed out before, the things in my yard think it's spring already and here's further proof:

That's some of the branches of my crepe myrtle trees framed against a pretty blue sky. It's a welcome sight as we've had more than the usual number of overcast days these past few weeks but then, that's partly why it's been warm too. Much of what you see are the seed pods at the end of the branches; they're left over from last year's blooms. Trimming not only gets rid of them but also encourages fuller growth. Some people cut their crepe myrtles back even before we have a freeze but I like to wait until February because the goldfinches love those seeds. They come in waves this time of year and you see them at all angles on the ends of the branches, their yellow feathers looking all the brighter in the mid-day sun. I'd miss seeing them bob around like gymnasts when the weight of their tiny bodies makes the branch sway and bow.

The bigger blobs you see in there are leaves. You know...those things that aren't supposed to be there in early February. I swear these branches were totally bare just a few days ago and now look at them.

Tiny little leaves are popping out all over the place and that leaves me in a quandary. I feel bad chopping them off and tossing them in the garbage. I'm not usually soft-hearted when it comes to things in the yard; in fact, I have no problem whacking big bushes down to the ground and letting them start all over again. But there's something so tender about these little baby leaves that the idea of amputating them is filing me with a little guilt.

Is this the year to follow my neighbor's crepe myrtle philosophy and forego trimming...Plan B, if you will? Or shall I just heartlessly chop all those little green shoots that are so eager to grow? I know from past experience the trees don't care; I've had to cut away a pile of early spring growth that a renegade freeze blackened and the tree just puts out more. Good thing I have a few days before February 14 to decide because I just don't know right now.

Louder Than A Frog

I flipped the TV off a few minutes ago, determined not to get sucked into watching some show I really didn't care anything about. It's been a busy day here...housework, laundry and diving into the black hole of family history dominated and it's an early morning tomorrow. Too bad they don't offer yoga at some reasonable hour...like 9:30am.

The room had just fallen silent when I heard something outside. Voices? Laughter? My neighbors have been asleep for hours; who's on the street at this time of night? Then (speaking of someone who's been asleep for hours) I heard Wayne calling my name. It's too cold for teenagers in the pool...what is going on?

As I scurried down the hall, I heard the noise again. What is that noise? I asked as I neared the bedroom. That's what I want to know! he replied. It was loud enough it woke him up. We stood there listening to it repeat every five or ten seconds, similar but not exactly the same each time. If I didn't know better, I said, I'd think it was those howler-like monkeys we heard going through the trees overhead the first night we were in Africa. But I haven't seen any monkeys swinging through our trees.

The noise continued. After deciding it was coming from down by the green on the golf course behind, we headed for the back patio. There was a little moonlight but not enough to see that far away. We stood and listened to this very loud sorta-bark-sorta-howl noise repeated itself over and over. Odds are it was probably a coyote as we've heard them back in the woods numerous times before but usually there are several of them and they have a distinctive, more melodious sound. This was clearly just one animal and he sounded like he had laryngitis. He just couldn't get that long, plaintive cry at the end to come out right and at times it was almost funny.

In the cold night air, his howls seemed to echo off the houses or maybe it just seemed so loud because everything outside was so quiet. He went on for about twenty minutes before things fell silent again. Either he moved on or someone else came out to investigate and didn't stop at their porch's edge, scaring him back into the woods.

We won't have the big frogs to make a commotion next door once warm weather arrives. Someone came and covered the nasty pool with a frame of wood, plastic and wire. Insurance, I suppose, to be sure no one falls in or to avoid the health department getting after them for what a nuisance it is. Noisy as they were, however, the frogs were quiet neighbors compared to this fellow tonight.

Life would be boring if we just had regular old neighborhood noises when darkness rolls around. It's much more interesting this way.

The Newest Black Hole

Months ago I bought what was then the newest edition of Family Tree Maker, a genealogy program for collecting and organizing family history information. Much like I started scrapbooking thanks to old family photos that came into my hands when my mother died, I became intrigued by family history thanks to materials we found cleaning out her house. We bought the Family Tree Maker software and began plugging in the names, dates and other info and we did a little research too. Then a little thing called a scrapbook store took over our life followed by work with a scrapbooking magazine and the family history thing got pushed not just to the back burner but pretty much off the stove.

It was odd combination of things that made me buy the update to the program. I'd been scanning in a bunch of old family photos on my dad's side and uploading them to a Picassa album to share with others and I was struggling to put full names with what information I did have. Some printouts from that old family tree program proved a valuable resource. And I happened to get a notice that Ancestry.com was offering it at a nice discount. Now that I have a new computer, I should buy that so all that information doesn't get lost in an out-of-date program, I thought...so I did.

That was May and I've just loaded it on my computer yesterday, but there's a very good reason for the delay. The program came with a two-week free membership to Ancestry.com and I wanted to have a block of time I could take advantage of it. Good thing because I'm going to need it.

It's like falling into a black hole. I suppose it takes a special kind of nerd to be excited by old census records and the like but then that's me. I uncovered World War I draft registration cards for Wayne's grandfather and both of my grandfathers, and that prompted me to give my dad a call. Had he ever heard my grandfather, whose given name was Will, go by the name of Willie because that's how he filled out and signed the draft card. He had as a boy, he said, but only when my grandfather (who was a big cut-up) got in trouble with my great-grandmother and she started scolding him. She'd call him Willie when she told him to behave himself. It was a story I'd never heard.

There's so much information out there and I've barely begun to scratch the surface. If you're looking for me anytime in the next two weeks, you know where I'll be...right here at my computer lost in the black hole of family history and loving every minute of it.

Yeah, Sure

So I've been going to the yoga class for two weeks now. Some of the poses are the same as the ones I've done on DVDs but there are many more that are new to me. In fact, some of them are new to the entire class as the instructor started a whole different sequence of poses at the first of the year. We're learning a few each class, building on what we've learned in previous weeks so as not to be too overwhelmed. She's good about going through the new moves at the beginning of class, demonstrating the poses and leading us slowly through each part so it won't be so foreign when it comes up later.

One of the new ones today was called Hopping Tree...or something like that. I was so busy trying to watch what she was doing I'm not sure I heard it right but hopping was definitely involved. The instructions went something like this:

Put all of your weight on the left foot
Lift up the right foot and put the top of the right foot up against the back of the left knee
Raise your arms overhead and put your palms together
Hop forward
Bring your hands down in front of your chest, palms still together
Move your right foot around front and over to the left side of your left shin
Push your butt back and down like you're sitting in a chair
Swing your arms back behind you, palms up
Then reverse all the moves...arms front, straighten up, foot to the back, arms up, hop backward, foot down

It was at this point that I just started laughing. Yeah, sure...I can do that. NOT! There was no hopping to be had...I was lead-footed and we're not talking about speeding. My tree was having enough trouble staying upright without the hopping anyway. And, of course, you didn't do this just once; you did it multiple times, switching legs each time.

Your curiosity is aroused at this point, I know, so go ahead...step away from the computer and try it. I'll wait on you. Patiently waiting while you fold up like a pretzel and hop on one foot. See, it wasn't easy, was it? I could mini-hop this evening trying to explain to Wayne what we'd done but I'll be darned if I could hop this morning. Fortunately, the emphasis in our class is on doing what you can do so the instructor was quick to say it was OK to skip the hop and focus on the balance and controlled moves. So I did.

I expected the class to provide me with improved strength and balance as well as the sense of calmness that comes from these rhythmic movements. The laughs in trying to get there are an unexpected bonus.

Too Cute Not To Share

What do you get when you combine Valentine's and chocolate and scrapbooking supplies? This cute and very clever project that I just had to share with you:

The photo and idea definitely belong to Mel's Kitchen Cafe and I hope that it's O.K. that I've copied it here since credit is given and I want you to go check it out for yourself.

The creative person behind Mel's Kitchen Cafe food blog has shared this very fun little gift you can make for a special someone for Valentine's Day. Actually, since it's nine pieces of Hershey's Nuggets candy cleverly wrapped in a pretty box you can make from scrapbook paper, you can make them for lots of someones and they won't have to be all that special either.

The link will take you to her blog post where not only does she have step-by-step photos and instructions for creating this little treasure but she also has downloadable PDF files for the patterns. There's even an SD file you can download if you have a Silhouette machine. It can't get much easier...a few scoring lines, a few folds and you've got something sure to wow. Better yet, you can use this idea year round because, as she very smartly points out, "valentine" is the same number of letters as "ThankYou" so this little gift idea is very adaptable.

I'm constantly amazed at the clever ideas people come up with...and I have the feeling that when you make and give these away, people will put you in that category too.

Fresh From The Tree

Sometimes in the late spring I wish I was in Kansas where you could pick fresh peas and pair them with freshly-dug new potatoes in a creamy white sauce for the most delicious meal. My mouth waters just thinking about it.

In July I wish I was in Oregon like we were some fifteen or more years ago. We started each morning with freshly-picked raspberries so juicy they flooded our mouths with their tart-sweet flavor when we bit down on them. I can't tell you how many times we stopped at roadside fruit stands to restock our supply.

Or maybe in Michigan where we ate what had to be our weight in fresh cherries when we visited there. I think our fingers were stained a deep red from handling the pits...when we didn't just spit them like we did watermelon seeds when we were kids.

Kansas is tempting in late summer too when tomatoes are at their peak.The good ol' black dirt found there produces that perfectly-balanced, acid-y taste of real tomatoes, not the anemic things that pass for them here. If they're fresh from the vine, I might even be persuaded to peel them like Wayne's mom and grandmother always did.

But in late January I'm happy to be in Florida where I'm enjoying fresh-from-the-tree grapefruit.

A mutual friend has been supplying Dr. Dale and Carol with more grapefruit than they can eat so they sent a bagful my way and boy, are they ever good! Juicy and tart with just the right amount of underlying sweetness...a great addition to my morning routine. I'll occasionally pick up a grapefruit at the store this time of the year but there's just no substitute for having them come fresh from the tree.

I'm lucky to have neighbors who so generously share their bounty and I don't have to wish myself somewhere else to appreciate it. I'm going to enjoy it while it last as all things fresh never last for long.