Thanks to Gaelyn at Geogypsy for sending me in for a intervention! According to the test, I am 80% addicted to blogging. I guess pretty soon I’ll be blogging about blogging. What? Oh, yeah, I already do.
Want to take the test yourself? Go here:
Nothing To Do
Since I have nothing to do, I have little or nothing to write about. We did go to Wickenburg and eat lunch with some friends last week on Friday.
yes, that is me on the left in the pink sweatshirt. My hair is getting longer. I want it long enough to wear it in a ponytail. Next to me is a new friend, Berta, Gaelyn, the Geogypsy. On the other side of the table is FabGrandpa, Jim and Bev of YmeIsay fame. Food was delish as usual and company was most fun!
We drove over to the gas station to get some propane, and passed by a dairy farm. The dairies here in the desert look a little different from the ones we saw in Pennsylvania, though. They have fans for the cows.
I know they must get a lot of rain here sometimes, because we see these signs everywhere:
Can You Type?
I applied for a job that asked the question on the application, “How many words per minute do you type?” I thought I could type about 30 words per minute, which is the minimum required for being qualified for that job.
So, after I sent in my application, I started having doubts about my actual typing ability. I mean, I had jobs in the past where I was required to type a certain number of words per minute, but not in recent years. And for all the writing I do now, for blog posts, emails, freelance articles, etc., I just type and don’t worry about errors because of good old spellcheck. Get it typed, run spellcheck, all is good. Right? Unless you have typed “ass” instead of “add”. Spellcheck won’t find the error and you’ll look like an add. hahahah.
Just to ease my mind that I had not fibbed on my application, I googled for an online typing test, And guess what? I did 50 words per minute! Yay!
So, tell me how well you did.
The Economic Stimulus Package. For Real. Read It If You Want To Argue With Me About It.
I have been getting into some heated debates with people I know and love, who THINK they know what is in the bill and what isn’t. I say, even a lot of the congressmen and senators who voted for or against it don’t even know what’s in it. The dang thing is “at least” 1580 pages and growing. So, because I have talked til I’m blue in the face and only accomplished alienating and angering people, I am supplying the link here where you can go and read it at your leisure: The Stimulus Package. I am on page 440 of it, and my eyes are crossing, but I am determined to read the whole thing. Boring!
I WANT to be knowledgeable of what is going on. I have never read a bill this large before, but I have read several bills that have interested me in the past. It has been eye-opening sometimes to read what is in these things. Like The Patriot Act for instance. Wow.
As of yet, I can report that I have NOT found the line or sentence that reads “money for young women to go to foreign countries to get their abortions” as one person dear to my heart screamed at me, and called me a very vile name, before hanging up on me. If I do find that provision in this bill, I will call that person and let them know how very right they were. Until then, though, I am not in the mood to argue with people over a bill that has already passed, that they have not read, and their only knowledge of it comes from watching C-Span night and day. That they believe is the beginning of the end of the world as we know it.
I may or may not agree with any and or all of the provisions of this bill. I may or may not benefit from it. I may or may not like any or all of the politicians who are in office now. But, I think I have the right to agree or not, I have the right to benefit or not, I have the right to like politicians or not. And I don’t think that anyone else on the face of the earth has the right to tell me I’m stupid for what I believe. Or don’t believe.
As a rule, I generally try not to talk about politics with most people. What I believe or don’t believe is my business. But sometimes it comes up in conversation, and before I can get away or hang up the phone, it gets ugly. I really don’t want that to happen. So, take the time to read the bill. If you want to talk to me about it after that, ok. Maybe I’ll have finished reading it by then, too.
Introducing:
My son, Seth, started his own blog this weekend. Check it out. I know you will. Because he is a great guy. And cute, too!
Anasazi Beans With Guacamole
I am always looking for new things to eat that are healthy, inexpensive, gluten free and good tasting. The other day when we were in Parker, I found these Anasazi Beans. I had read about them in cookbooks and on the internet, but I had never seen any in a store. They were more expensive than other kinds of dried beans, about twice as much for a 16 oz bag. I bought them anyway and brought them home.
I couldn’t wait to take them out of the bag and take a picure of them. I mean, they are so pretty just sitting there in the pot:
I made bean soup with them, adding some chopped celery, onion, garlic, basil, thyme, and black pepper. I don’t usually add any salt to the pot when I am cooking dried beans. It makes them tough and chewy, so we add the salt after they are cooked if they need any. I have always added some sort of meat to the pot when I cook beans, but this time, since we are trying to eat less meat, I did not add any at all. We wanted to see how good dried beans could be with no meat added.
Also, I have found that if you either soak the beans overnight, or put them in a pot with water, bring to a boil and cook for 5 minutes, then pour off the water and rinse the beans well, you won’t get the flatulence usually associated with eating beans. (It works, believe me, I know it does!)
After you rinse the beans, add them to the crockpot with the other ingredients. I cooked these beans for about 4 hours on high, then turned them off and let them sit overnight in the crockpot. The second day, I turned the crockpot on high and cooked them another two hours. The soup turned out just right. I served it with homemade guacamole spooned on top, and cornbread on the side. The guacamole added just the right amount of mmmmmmmmmm to this soup.
Now isn’t that a beautiful bowl of soup?
Something I’ve Meaning To Tell My Sister
My sister has had eczema on her hands for a long time. She has trouble with breakouts often, and has to wear gloves when washing her dishes. I have also had some trouble with my hands itching and some trouble with my cuticles and nails getting too dry.
A few months ago, while we were in Flagstaff, I decided to look for a dishwashing liquid that would be better for my hands. We had been using Palmolive for years, and it had been the best one I could find to prevent the itchyness, but even that was not working for me anymore.
Yeah, I COULD just wear gloves, but even though I had bought some, I can never remember to put the dang things on until AFTER I had my hands in the dishwater. Have you ever tried to put rubber gloves on wet hands??? Not happening, friends.
So, anyway, we were in the health food store in Flagstaff, and found BioKleen Dishwashing Liquid:
This stuff is great if you have sensitive skin! I have been using it since the last week of October. My hands are not all itchy, and don’t have the ugly peely looking cuticles I usually get when I am the one doing the dishes. See:
The bottle says Hand Moisturizing, Natural, Non-toxic, Biodegradable. It has Grapefruit Seed and Orange Peel Extract, and is Gentle to the Skin. It was not cheap, but a 32 oz bottle lasts a pretty long time. We just opened our third bottle and have been using it since the last week of October. Anyway, consider this a public service announcement. If you have a problem with dry itchy skin on your hands, get some of this stuff. It works great! (and NO, I was NOT paid to review this product. I just really like it.)
Driving Me Crazy!
When I turned 16, I wanted nothing more than to get my drivers license. My father, however, was of the opinion that girls did not NEED a drivers license, that they could go everywhere they needed to go with their parents, their brothers, or their boyfriends. He steadfastly refused to take me to get my license.
Until it occurred to him that he could also take my brother, who is a year younger than me, at the same time. At that time in Georgia, if your parent was with you when you went to get your drivers license, you did not have to show your birth certificate. You parent told the officials how old you were, and they took them at their word.
So, on that day in 1968, my father told them I was born in 1951, so he could tell them my brother was born in 1952. And ever since then, my date of birth has been incorrect on my drivers license. It has never been a problem. Until yesterday.
Yesterday FabGrandpa and I went to the Arizona DMV to get Arizona drivers licenses. His was coming up for renewal in March. Since we are not planning to go to Georgia until November, it would have been a problem for him. He is required to have a valid drivers license for his summer job. An expired Georgia license wouldn’t work. And, because we also got a post office box in Arizona last week, I decided to go ahead and get my Arizona license, too.
When it was my turn, I appoached the desk, and gave the clerk my two forms of ID, which consisted of my Georgia license and my brand new US Passport card. And the dates of birth on them did not match! I went through the whole story of how my father lied on that day in history. The clerks conferred amongst themselves. They called the supervisor. They called The Boss. All of this was making me really uncomfortable. And they finally told me I could have my Arizona drivers license, but that I really need to bring in my birth certificate next time I am in town. You know, the birth certificate that the Passport office said was not a valid one? Thanks, Dad, for all the fun.
