Mundane Chores

Mundane Chores

.
I love washing dishes in my sink with my own two hands. I love to iron, too.

Mundane to you? As a kid, I HATED doing those chores. As an adult, I realized that both of those chores are very theraputic.

Not to mention, no one bothers you! It's amazing how everyone can dissappear when it's time to do the dishes. I don't even own a dishwasher. There is a window over my sink, which I can observe the goings on in the neighborhood during the day.

We used to live in the country and I love watching the Martins (birds--not neighbors!) play while I did my dishes. Sometimes they'd get to pestering the squirrels so much, I'd laugh out loud at their antics. My husband wondered how washing dishes could be so funny!

When I take clothes from the dryer, I'm glad to see wrinkles. Weird, I know, but it's true.

Holding up a freshly pressed item, that I just ironed and is now smooth and wrinkle gives me a silly sense of satisfaction. I accomplished something in those few moments of steam-iron bliss. No one in my family ever left the house wearing wrinkled clothes.

I ask you all to try it: Those of you addicted to dishwashers; those of you that pull the clothes out of the dryer and shake them, ignoring any wrinkles that persist in remaing -- I DARE you to wash your dishes and iron your clothes
Wait until you've had a bad day....you'll be amazed at the results.

From Out of Pambo's Mind
Pambo

My Trivial Poison Ivy.....So Inconsequential

Well, you think I'd know better....

I got into some poison ivy the other day, but didn't realize that's what it was. Well, somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered, but kept snipping at it anyway. No gloves, tank top and cut-offs were the outfit of the day...great for cutting poison ivy.

In my defense, I thought that poison ivy, 1) leaves were green, 2)grew in clusters, and 3) stayed on the ground.

What I cut back was 1) red leaves, 2) a single vine, and 3)twining up and around a tree trunk.

Yeah, it had "leaves of three" but so do other weeds!

Two days later, I broke out on my left eyelid, under my chin, behind my right ear and under my left boob. The day after that, those rashes were worse and new rashes formed on different areas on my legs, under my right boob, behind my right ear and my neck and the left side of my face!

Ohhhh boy! I took some benedryl two nights in a row to help me not itch and to sleep. While I didn't itch, I didn't sleep well, either. Plus I was groggy for a few hours the mornings after. I didn't take any last night, and I'm not groggy, but itchy! ACK!

I "flip" through blogs and read any that catch my eye. I just read on from a woman who had breast cancer and thought she's beat it. She's waiting on results to see.

Here I am whining about hot flashes (see a previous blog) and poison ivy. Neither of which is life threatening, devastating or even worrisome. My daughter's brother-in-law (in his late 20's) just had a brain tumor removed (for the second time) and will start chemo and radiation treatments soon. Again....here I am whining about trivial things happening to me.

The lady blogger and the young man really put my teensy little problems into perspective. They also remind me to not wait to tell people I love that I love them. To tell a stranger that "you look pretty in that color" or "hey! great hat!" Or to just smile at a sourpuss and hopefully brighten his day.

So, to all of you that read this and know me and love me....I LOVE YOU!

Now, you go tell your loved ones you love them...and smile at a sourpuss today!

Playing in the Dirt!

I'm tellin' y'all right here, right now........
Playing in the dirt is extremely theraputic! I've been a little blue the last few days.

Lack of sleep will do that to you, lack of sleep from INFERNO FLASHES do it too.

Thank goodness it's spring! Gardening time!

I've been out playing in the dirt all afternoon. I love the smell of dirt. I love plunging my hands into the freshly tilled powdery earth to plant my vegetables. I don't care if my fingernails have a black line in them, my cuticles stained dirt, or even if a nail or two breaks.

As I raked, hoed and planted,I sang along with the array of Golden Oldies on my iPod. I even danced.

I'm over fifty....I don't care if I look and/or sound silly. It's my yard, I can do as I wish while playing in my dirt!

Now, with sore muscles, I'm happy again. No more blues.

Just dirty fingernails, a little sunburn and the anticipation of fresh yummy vegetables.

Go play in your dirt!

From Out of My Mind,
Pambo

A Very Cruel, Cruel Joke

Hot Flashes........
I'm having one now. My particular brand of Hot Flashes are INFERNO Flashes.

In my younger days, it was rare for me to have sweat rolling off of me when I'd get hot doing whatever. I'd look at folks who, when they broke a sweat, would have sweat rolling and pouring off of them in buckets and feel sorry for them. I thought that looked so uncomfortable. I was grateful that I wasn't that kind of sweat-er.

Joke's on me......I don't even have to be doing anything to sweat like that now. I can even be sleeping soundly and sweat like that now. Within seconds, I can be dripping wet with sweat.
It is soooooo much fun, I'm tellin ya!

NOT! NOT! NOT!

I had a hysterectomy a little over a year ago. I immediately went into full blown menopause, with a vengance. Mood swings....( I can handle those, been handling them for years now), weight gain (yuk!) and Inferno Flashes.

I haven't had a good night's sleep since then. (Thank Goodness I'm not working anymore, I really don't know how I'd manage). I sleep for an hour or two (I get excited when I look at the clock and I see that I've had more than two hours sleep-rare, but it happens). I'm awakened by my very wet, very slick, very disgusting body that is sweating like a pig. Gross.

It's not funny and it's not fair. It's depressing. Really depressing. I cry about it. I cuss about it. I've cussed anyone and anything I can think of that would be responsible for putting women in this state of being.

God. Mother Nature. The Fates. Karma. Fairy Godmothers. Men. Whoever. Whatever.

There are times when I wish I wasn't a woman.

Then I shudder at the thought of being a man.....I really and truly do not want any soft, meaty, mushy things dangling between my legs. Although, it would be nice to be able to stand up and pee!

I just get so GD frustated at these F$%$^ING Inferno Flashes. I cry and cuss and cry and cuss.

Then I laugh. Sometimes hysterically ~ what else can I do?

I laugh because I know why it is the female of the human species that endure all the pain and frustration and depression of what we endure.

Boobs. Menestration. Huge uncomfortable child-carrying bellies. Agonizing childbirth. Nursing babies causing sore boobs. Many more years of menestration and the pains/problems that go along with it. Finally menopause and all of its problems.

Men were not emotionally and mentally built to be able to handle any of the above.

OMG! Can you imagine ANY man (even the gay ones) handling any ONE of the things on that list? Now THAT'S funny!

But hey God! Mother Nature! The Fates! Karma! Fairy Godmothers! Whomever!......
It sure would've been nice to let them have one or two of those things! Why don't you give them cramps and Hot Flashes! That'd be fair.

Yeah, that'd be really fair. Next generation of males should evolve to have cramps and hot flashes. Give the females a break.

From Out Of Pambos Mind
Pambo (laughing and fanning herself.......)

Sprinkled With Angel Dust?

I've been couped up in the house all day, my choice, but still.........

I was low on milk and a couple of other items, so I decided to walk over to Aldi's and get some. The sunshine lifted my spirits, not that I was down, but spring in the midwest is always exceptionally beautiful and you can't help but get happier. Even though the temp wasn't as warm as last week, I still didn't have to drag out a coat. I was real comfy in jeans, tee shirt and hoodie.

I love Aldi's. I always save money there and their "special purchase" section always has some really cool stuff. Anyway, I digress....

I had just entered the store behind an older man. Briefly, I admired the color of the whiteness of his hair. He went on ahead, I started looking at stuff. As I took my cart to go to the next section, the man came to me with a sad/perplexed/I-don't-want-to-be-here look on his face. He asked me for help. He said his wife sent him to get some "powdered flour, or powdered sugar, or...I don't know!" I showed him the flour and told him it always comes in a powder form. Sugar, on the other hand, comes granulated (I pointed to the bag), or powdered (I went and got a bag and handed it to him).

That didn't help. I took my phone from my waistband and said, "call her." I dialed the number, he talked to her and hung up. "I need powdered sugar and walnuts."

I walked a few feet, found the walnuts, picked up a bag and handed that to him, too. The relief on his face was priceless! He rewarded me with a happy "thank-you" and big hug. He said he'd been mowing all day and had just got in and sat down, when his wife told him she needed him to go to Aldi's and get those items. Then he rushed off to pay and get the hell out of there!

Made me feel good to be of help.

I round the corner and have to wait for another older gentleman (also with pretty white hair), to find whatever he was looking for in the cooler above the milk. After realizing he wasn't finding it, I stepped up and asked him if he needed help. He told me he was looking for just regular creme (for coffee), not the flavored stuff.

I spied a box behind the one with the flavored stuff in it (leave it to the blind lady!), reached in and grabbed a bottle. It was exactly what he wanted. I didn't get a hug that time, but got a nice smile and thanks.

Made me feel good again. I wondered if I had been sprinkled with Angel Dust when I stepped out of the house.

I say this because I'll never forget the time an Angel helped me. It was several years ago. Just before Christmas. I had the flu~with all the fun symptoms; fever, chills, cough, sore throat, hoarsness, etc. I felt like crap, but still had to work. (The down-side of owning your own business). After work that day, I had to go to Walmart for groceries (this was before I discovered the wonderful world of Aldi's).

The weather was cold and gray and miserable. When I came out, my fever was worse, I was chilled to the bone and it had started to snow. I wheeled my cart to the car and unloaded it.

I am not one to just leave my empty cart in a parking spot. I looked for the closest cart "holder" to take it to. It was miles and miles away. I just stood there, snow blowing all over me, wind chilling me even more, holding my cart and cried. Through my tears, I said to the universe, "I really don't want to walk all the way over there and all the way back to my car." But started to anyway. I no sooner than took that first step, when a man came up beside me, took the cart from my hands and told me he'd take it. And off he went. I didn't even get a chance to thank him. I cried all the way home. Grateful to be in the warm car, but mostly grateful for that Angel of a person.

I have never forgotten that experience. The despair I felt and the kindness of that stranger. Whenever I can, I try to be an Angel for others.

I got to be one twice today.

From Out Of My Mind
PamBo

FREE: A Much Overused Word

I don't know about all of you, but I get so damn sick and tired of seeing and hearing the word FREE everywhere.

Is this culture so friggin gullible that we are taken in by that simple little four-letter word? Sad.

The dictionary defines FREE as: 1) not controlled, restricted, or regulated, 2)not affected by a particular thing, 3) costing nothing, 4) giving something readily... along with definitions about being a "free" people. But that's not my point in this blog.

Read those definitions again, please. Anywhere in them do you read, WITH PURCHASE OF...., or, ONLY PAY SHIPPING AND HANDLING?

I didn't either.

But we see the word FREE all over the place. It's wrong, wrong wrong. NONE of what they are touting as FREE is free.

It would only be truly free if I walked into the place and the clerk hands me a hamburger, toothbrush, or whatever and I turn around and walk out. THAT would be free.

When we had our business, some customers would ask me for free stuff. I'd tell them that nothing is free. However, if they bought this and that, I'd give them a couple of those "at no extra charge!"

I realize that the phrase "at no extra charge" has many more letters in it than "free." But, come on, people, who cares? Is this simple word all part of the dumbing down of America plan?

If it is, I think it's working, unfortunately. You can fight back.....

The next time you have a coupon, or ad, or see a sign in a store that tells you something is FREE (with purchase of......), tell the clerk the correct way to say it. Tell the manager that whatever it is -- IS NOT FREE. And while you appreciate not having to pay for the extra cheeseburger, the correct way to state it on the coupon would have been; NO EXTRA CHARGE!

I'm done here. If you get it, great! If you don't....read it all again.

We need to FIGHT BACK of this incorrect word usage....

STOP LETTING THEM DUMB US DOWN!

I'm going to email all the fast food places I can think of who are one of the biggest culprits of this horrible practice. Maybe they'll reconsider, maybe they won't, but I'll do what I can......
WILL YOU?

From Out of Pambo's Mind
Pambo

Are People Really THIS Stupid?

Okay, People.........
So, I'm sitting here working on editing my book. (FYI-I love to edit other people's writing, but get bored easily editing my own-especially on this fourth editing--ack!)

Anyway, I keep an eye on my Yahoo tab to watch if I get any emails~gives me a nice break from editing, especially if it's one that requires a reply.

In the last twenty minutes, I received three--yup--count 'em--three emails from American Bank, or something like that, claiming that someone has "gotten into my account without authorization". First of all, who the hell is American Bank? I don't even have an account with them. We use ONE bank, which is across the street from us, not to mention, we don't even do ANY banking on-line.

Do these idiot scammers think that people are really that stupid to open the link? To give them personal info? To whatever...?

Jeez.

I've received emails from THE FBI!!! (OMG!!!). I laughed the first time and deleted it. After the third time, I called the FBI office in Springfield, IL. An actual live human answered the phone. After recovering from that shock, I told her about the email. She told me it's not real and to just delete it. I rolled my eyes, (I'm sure she heard it over the phone), and got a little testy with her when I told her, "I KNOW it's fake. I just wanted to give YOU the info, so you could track them down!" hmph!

"Oh," she replied, "okay. We do know about it and are working on tracking them down. You just need to delete anymore you get." So I do.

But, fercrissakes! Who are these dipshits who send these emails out? The ones that tell me that there is fifty bazillion francs, pounds, sheckles, whatev's being held in a bank in whatever country applies. Just give us all your personal info, and we'll get all that money to you in a jiffy! Uh-Huh!

I can't believe that people are really that gullible. Are they?

Hmmmmmm............

From Out Of My Mind,
PamBo

If It Could Only Be This Easy

Like many Americans, we fly our American Flag on our front porch. I love to watch it billowing in the wind, as if it's saying to us, "Here I am. Just try to mess with me...."

We've had that flag for almost two years, and I noticed the edge of it was tattered. My husband asked me to take it down and wash it.

After unhooking it and gently sliding it from the pole, (never letting it touch the ground), I knew I had to repair it before washing it, or the raggedy ends would shred even more. This may sound silly to some of you, but just before I stuck the needle in to make the first repairing stitch, I aplogized to the inanimate flag. It's just a piece of material after all, that happens to be patterned after the symbol of our Great Country.

I was taught, however, that that particular piece of patterned material should always be treated with dignity and respect. So I did. After the first needle stick, I realized I'd been holding my breath, so let out a big sigh and continued my task.

First I repaired a white stripe. Then, a red stripe. Then I had to re-attach a white stripe to a red one. None of the blue was damaged.

As I sewed, I was reminded of what each color represented. Red for hardiness and courage and the blood that so many soldiers have spilled. White for purity and innocence and the courage of so many soldiers willing to fight for you and me. Blue for vigiliance, perserverance and justice that so many soldiers believe with heart-felt conviction. The stars come from Heaven-the goal so many soldiers strive for, should it be their time in battle. The thirteen stripes have two meanings; one, for the original thirteen colonies. The second; for rays of light from the sun.

With each repair I made, I thought, "If it could only be this easy to fix America's problems. The war, the economy, the foolish and idiotic childish separation of the two parties arguing in Congress. The greed of those in office, etc."

When I got it done as best I could, I stood at the washing maching, waiting for the tub to fill. Holding this tri-colored piece of material in my hands, I was reminded of the story behind our National Anthem:

Francis Scott Keyes sat with a newpaper reporter on a ship in a harbour watching a battle rage on. The British were firing on a fort where Old Glory flew high and proud. Word came to them that the British wanted that flag down! No matter what it took....get that flag down!
Through the bombs bursting in air, the rockets red glare, all through the day and night, the flag became damaged, tattered and shred. But it never came down.

Finally, the British gave up. When the battle was over, and the fort examined, the secret as to how that flag remained flying was revealed. People surrounded the base. If a bomb happened to hit them and killed them, others piled on top to keep that flag upright. I don't know how many gave their lives through that battle only to keep that flag flying, but many did.

What courage. What sacrifice.

With a lump in my throat, the washer ready to gently wash this great symbol, I put it in and closed the lid.

Now, clean, repaired and freshly pressed, the American Flag flys from our porch once again.

As I write this, I shake my head at the arrogance, stupidity, selfishness and greed of our so-called leaders. Why can't it be that simple - to just take a needle and thread to the tattered mess America has become? Why can't they see that we Americans would still pile ourselves around the flagpole to keep it standing and flying high and proud ~ WITHOUT being lied to and manipulated by them?

Really, it wouldn't be that difficult.

From Out of My Mind,
PamBo