Black Dog

 You know your time is getting closer to the end when you walk into an old-folks assisted living center and Led Zeppelin's Black Dog is playing.  I can't make this stuff up, people.  

Kohlrabi and Rhubarb

Back when my parents were well and could travel from Minnesota to California they would bring seeds for my husband to plant.  They knew better than to give them to me as my previous post indicated that I do hospice for any and all plants and flowers - they come to me to die.  My husband has a green thumb.  To my credit I do preserve the vegetables via canning and freezing.  I'm not totally useless.  Canning vegetables with a pressure cooker is an art that I learned from my paternal grandmother.  It looks very intimidating at first, but once you do it a few times it becomes old hat.  

To this day I use my paternal grandmother's canning jars.  Yes, gramma, I honor them.

Where I'm going with this is that my parents would bring out kohlrabi seeds and also rhubarb.  Kohlrabi and rhubarb were childhood staples of mine.  I was pretty much shocked that nobody in California really knew what either was being this is such the "foodie" place.  Granted, rhubarb does not grow well in the California climate, but kohlrabi does.  Again, I was looked down upon by the snooty, local California populace as the lowly, Midwest farm girl.

Now kohlrabi and rhubarb are very en vogue.  ..and in all the yuppie foodie blogs.....and I have kick-ass, authentic recipes for both kohlrabi and rhubarb that come from the pioneer days.  Suck THAT you fake-ass pricks.  These fake-ass people did not want to give me the time of day yesterday.  ..... and now?  

They are still fake-ass pricks. 

 

Green Thumb

 It's spring and it's time to plant the garden.  My husband is *really* good at planting the flowers and also our vegetable garden.  In return I will preserve the tomatoes, onions, peppers, etc., when the garden comes to maturity late summer.  

Me?  Do I have a green thumb?  Absolutely not.  I am hospice for plants - they come to me to die.  True story:  Only I can kill a cactus for lack of watering. 

Birthday Spankings

 Do you all remember birthday spankings?  I have this flashback to my dad, siblings, mom, cornering whichever family member who had the birthday and all of us jokingly booty-smacking them the number of their years......PLUS...... a pinch to grow an inch. 

Birthday spankings are unheard of these days.

Was it right?  Was it wrong?  I don't know.  All I remember was after dinner on any given birthday would be the plot to corner the birthday sibling to give said birthday year numbers of gentle slap-pats on the birthday kid's back, feet, head, hands, where ever.  The magic after the age/year count was in the "pinch to grow an inch" which meant that the family had expectations of you - don't you dare stay stagnant and fail to  grow your mind/soul.  

Where did birthday spankings originate from? IDK.  I'm sure if you google it there will be several twisted origins.  All I know was that it was an anticipated joke and ritual in my childhood household with no ill intent......at least in my case.  

Here's to make you laugh.....it's my grand-dog.  Today is his birthday.  

 

  

 

Quiet Rage is Quiet

Quiet rage has been, well, quiet.  Quite frankly, I've been too busy to pause and complain about what's wrong with the world.  

I'm certain nobody cares.