I don’t want anyone to think I’ve suddenly stopped commenting on your blogs. First comment I clicked Reply on this morning disappeared. I tried again. Evidence of my presence is by Like only. That worked. A couple of blogs welcomed my comment as always. The rest not. Why do some (too few) work and others not?
Does anyone know what this is about? Yesterday, WP seemed fine. Is anyone else experiencing a similar problem?
It’s been suggested my comments may be in your Spam.
Meet a woman who never sleeps and writes until I’m sure she drops or simply pours another coffee and continues.
Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular “Building a Midshipman”, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. She is webmaster for six blogs, an Amazon Vine Voice book reviewer, a columnist for Examiner.com and TeachHUB, Editorial Review Board member for Journal for Computing Teachers, monthly contributor to Today’s Author and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. In her free time, she is editor of technology training books for how to integrate technology in education. Currently, she’s editing a techno-thriller that should be out to publishers next summer. CONTACT INFO
So one week, I commented on her pithy submission. The next week, Tess formed her weekly challenge around my comment–and the race was on. I had to respond. Right? As my efriend Peter says over atCounting Ducks:
Yellow is the heart of green.
Understand? (You thought I wasn’t paying attention, didn’t you, Peter?)
Here’s my response to Tess (you’ll have to read the prior piece to understand my answer) and to catch up from the beginning:
“What’s wrong?” Harry sipped his umbrella drink. Truth, he had shoes older than Collette. And better made. Still, a man had to try or he was dead.
“Oh, nothing… I guess…” Her frown said otherwise.
Harry bit his tongue, hoping to escape.
“Did I mention these folks love a drink? They’re coming over—said a bar’s a better meeting place than the school. I should have remembered that.”
That ticked Harry off. “Why’d you tell them you were here?”
But he knew why. He suggested it. He sighed. Life was indeed the greatest show on Earth.
***
If you’re in my Chapman Writer’s Group–you know who I’m talking about!
***
Anyone can join the fun. All it takes is 100 measly words to move the story forward. Contact me and I’d love to add you to (the organized) list. The last person to contribute 100 words will receive a $10.00 coffee gift card of your choice in Canada or the U.S. (if it is attainable). Do I have your attention now? We have all summer long and b.e.y.o.n.d…and you may enter more than once but not consecutively.
I hate cold coffee and am forever reheating a cup in the microwave. Why does the mug handle end up in the back even when I place it facing out, or, no matter how long it spins to reheat?
My old washing machine ate socks; I became used to losing them and expected the loss. What changed? The new machine hasn’t gobbled any—even once—in four years. What gives?
When are you officially a senior? 50? 55? 60? 65? Businesses used to offer discounts on a wide range of products and services for customers age fifty and over. Once the demographic reports on baby boomers came out, perks dwindled, an inch at a time. Too many seniors are approaching age sixty-five. Why is this information a surprise?
McDonald’s offers seniors a coffee discount—size small only. Some ‘franchises’ don’t offer any reduction at all. Others give you the same price cut whether you order a small or a large cup. Why the differences?
Why do meteors fall through the atmosphere but don’t hit anything? I’m pleased not to hear of catastrophic damages, but why is it they never hit any cities or tall buildings? Why are burned remnants always found in remote areas? How lucky are we?
Why do I always want to do something else when I’m in the middle of any particular project? Even when I’m half-way into an absorbing book, another one catches my eye; I’m impatient to get into the new one no matter how exciting the current one I’m reading.
Why is my cat driving me crazy? I threw drop-sheets on my sofa to discourage her from playing Tarzan. She found an opening no matter how I draped, tucked or arranged the sheets to drag on the floor. She discovered a new game called ‘run under the drop-sheets and hang on the sofa underneath’. Alright! W-e-e-e-e. Will my sofa last until next Monday morning and her manicure appointment?
Does anyone in this whole wide world dislike hate fruit flies like I do?
Fruit flies were everywhere yesterday, following me around it seemed. No fruits or vegetables anywhere. Why did they descend on me? Sure I ‘m apt to find a few in the kitchen during the warm summer weather now and again, as in past years, except last fall, we had hordes. I don’t expect a following to my favourite spot on the sofa, though, nor around my computer (which happens to be in my bedroom). No fruit or food in here either.
I smashed at least a dozen of the flying pests certain only one existed. As soon as I clapped one dead another one materialized. I couldn’t get any work done. And, one flew at my face. What? This made it personal. Did I mention I’m not dead yet and I can prove it? I’m like a frog—I’m so fast—but I don’t use a weird tongue to do the job. Who else is so talented to kill and applaud at the same time?
I half-filled a mug with sugar water and placed it on a side table by my desk. No captives to report in the past twenty-four hours. No race resulted, either, to determine who craved my glass of wine first. I’m almost disappointed; this is most unusual. You won’t believe it—I couldn’t either—a fruit fly in my COFFEE swam its last dead fly float! Have the fruit flies of the world joined AA?
Not so long ago, I remember house flies bu-z-z-z-z-ed. Of late, I notice they annoy the hell out of me but are mute. Fruit flies hung around my kitchen until last night but swoon over sugar water and wine no more. What’s happening? I thought technology was going to confuse me first not the silly bug world.
Tonight, a lone fruit fly came to visit. It had the nerve to land on the back of my wrist—bold as brass. Yes, I looked at it—for a millisecond, and let him have it. Later, a cousin or a spouse flew in.
How I hate washing my hands every five minutes but no trouble shall I have sleeping the good sleep yet again tonight.
I’ve been locked in technical hell lately. A week ago my six-month-new Brother printer started jamming (nothing to do with music, but it was playing havoc with my nerves). No matter how many times I removed the paper, checked the paper tray, straightened and ruffle the paper, it had made up its mind to drive me crazy. I called Brother support. After scanning my bill and e-mailing it to them to prove purchase, the lovely young lady in Montreal said she was sending me a new one.
A new one? OMG! It arrived two day’s later. Inside the box was a prepaid UPS sticker for return of the old-new one.
The same weekend, I was in my e-mail account where I receive all my blogs. I can’t recall what I was doing but a yellow banner appeared across the top of my page with this warning:
“We’ve noticed some unusual activity in your Hotmail account. To help protect you and everyone else, we’ve temporarily blocked your account. To unblock it, verify your account.”
To verify my account, they ask for a cell number so they can text back a code. I do NOT have text messaging. All communication with MSN has been one-sided (in that I cannot respond to their e-mails–you can’t reply to). I’m still NOT able to send mail from that account. I CAN open and read blogs and comment. It’s like we are not speaking the same language. I was also TOLD they cannot discuss with me what kind of ‘activity’ they are talking about. I didn’t even ask. Might anyone have had a similar experience?
You’ve been getting my comments when I’ve had time to read your blogs but I haven’t responded to any e-mail. I am not ignoring anyone. My apologies?
o O o
I’ve had a few requests for the following after an earlier post. Why I like this recipe is you don’t use mayo. This is no longer a poor man’s or woman’s meal. The price of canned tuna is climbing as the size of the can is getting smaller. Does 170 grams sound about right where you live? When you drain the water, it’s supposed to be 120 grams of fish or so the can suggests.
Tuna Salad
1can (15 ounces) white navy or cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (9 ounces) water-packed canned tuna, drained and flaked
1 clove garlic, minced (more if you like)
3 ribs sliced and chopped (1/4” each) celery
2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons lemon juice + zest of ½ lemon
Salt and black pepper
Drain and rinse beans. Drain tuna. Toss into a large bowl. Add garlic, celery, garlic, lemon and zest. Add salt and pepper. Toss well. Add oil just so it’s not dry. Toss. Yum.
Adding crusty bread makes this a nice light lunch. Also, you can toss some of this mixture onto a green salad (a quarter cup or so, up to you).
o O o
Originally this recipe called for thinly sliced celery (one or two ribs) but I like crunchy so I dice and lots (up to six stalks). They add bulk so there’s more salad.
Also, I sometimes add chopped sundried tomatoes (in oil) and skip the OVOO, as much as you like). Play with it and I hope you enjoy.
This is better fresh but yes you can store in the fridge overnight. It’s best at room temperature, however.
I don’t recall if I’ve had a good rant this year. You can’t expect a body to remember everything she’s done over a six- month period, or is it in the last half-year? I can’t remember where I put my glasses two minutes ago…or is it three…whatever. If I don’t get to the point soon I’m going to lose my train of thought. Where was I?
Let’s talk groceries; my favourite subject. The packaging is getting smaller. Who’s noticed? Let’s look at pasta. Wait a minute. Is pasta measured in grams or litres? I might venture one is for dry goods and the other is for wet. Never mind. I know a way that’s a lot easier to visualize without the confusion. To put this strange measuring into prespective, think a one litre bottle (L) vs a 750- millilitre (ml) bottle of wine. The difference is something like 250 ml. Sometimes I think I make this stuff up because I was slow in grade school. You may think I’m a cheap wino but I know how to subtract. Pay attention to smaller sizes and higher prices. I know you get the picture so stop smirking.
The first time I recall making a whole box of pasta (375 grams or was it more at some point?), I had so much I couldn’t give it away. One package doesn’t go as far nowadays. I do save the leftovers but I don’t have much after four servings. Whole wheat and whole grain pasta is being promoted as heart healthy (but in a 300 gram-size) and the price has—you guessed it—steadily crept up as the content has shrunk. I’m positive the 375-gram box is smaller thanI remember, but I wasn’t paying attention when I should have been; I wasn’t retired yet. Everybody is downsizing one way or another except for my tush, it seems.
Tuna is a favourite pantry item I keep on hand and am always afraid I’ll forget to restock. I make a mean tuna salad with white kidney beans and chopped celery I adore. (Let me know and I’ll post the recipe.) You know those days when lunchtime munchies won’t leave you alone? Most days I’m satisfied with a big tossed salad, especially in summertime, or homemade soup out of my freezer. Today it’s tuna salad straight up (sometimes I go nuts and mix tuna and a tossed salad together). Not long ago those little tins of tuna cost only 77₵. The past few months the price has been sneaking up ten cents each time I go shopping. This week they’re up to $1.07.
Nobody likes to talk about—I can’t understand why—papier toilettes. (Sounds better in French, doesn’t it?) You thought I’m not aware of your sensitivities, maybe? I’ll ignore the insult.
Let’s get back to the subject at hand—oops. Stop being so squeamish and let me finish. This time the packaging is getting BIGGER. Yep, I said bigger- looking. Instead of buying eight or twelve (single) rolls, somebody thought fifteen DOUBLE rolls is better—double rolls, count ‘em, equal to thirty regular rolls. Wow! What a bargain. Think again. They’re not wound as tight as they once were. Take note a roll doesn’t go as far as it did once. Am I right?
In the end, what will a dollar buy in the future–a quarter-cup of cereal? Remember not long ago old folks said a cup of coffee used to cost a dime? How much is it now?
Most days I get breakfast, read the newspaper and putter around, or attack tasks / projects I can’t avoid. Lately, there have been a ton of those and I’ve been buried under lots of paper. In spite of concentrating so hard, a few days ago, I noticed something different: SILENCE.
I live in the basement level of the house I share with my daughter and her family. The dehumidifier is going all the time. Or at least it was.
The hot water tank in the laundry-room was replaced about a month ago. Because of the water spill during the switch, I moved the dehumidifier in there to dry up the wet cement floor (decided not to spend the extra money finishing the floor). I shut it down afterwards.
In the past few days, the temperature has been going up outside. Yesterday felt like 35 degrees Celsius. Duh, time to put the dehumidifier back on. I decided not to move it back into the dining / kitchen area and left it where it was—a good thing too.
My dehumidifier is either having an identity crisis or is on strike. I can’t remove the water container—not that it’s full anyway but I keep checking—it keeps icing up inside. When I unplug it, the ice thaws and leaks (on the cement floor, thank goodness). I wonder if a good swift kick might help.
I’m was used to the constant hum it makes; why did it take so long to realize I live in tomb-like silence? Have I forgotten I have a radio? What does that say about me? I am not deaf if that’s what you’re thinking. My problem is neither my hearing nor memory. How can anyone be so busy she doesn’t stop to put some music on?
Anyway, I’ve no alternative. We are expecting a hot, dry summer (as in where’s the rain?). I’m ready to eat nails because I need to go shopping and don’t want to. My dehumidifier is only three years new. Drat.
By the way, now that I think of it, silence is golden or haven’t you heard that somewhere too? My worry is after I swallow the nails I will be screaming and it’s all my dehumidifier’s fault thus breaking the golden silence.
I’ve been buried in paper for weeks. Admittedly, I don’t work at the speed of light but let me assure you although I am slow, I am sure. This is my excuse.
Why am I here suddenly? Robin Coyle found me lurking in her SPAM (not the kind that some people…you know). I hadn’t noticed all the comments I’d diligently sent out into the blogosphere were disappearing until today.
(I cheat when I’m supposed to be working. I sneak a peak and read a few posts (don’t tell anyone…sh). I send a few comments— now and again. OK . . . I need to know what’s going on even if I am a wee bit furtive. And Busy. You try working your buns off without any fun!
Please check your SPAM. I might be lost in there. Robin was kind enough to send instructions. If your comment disappears on a post after you hit ‘post comment’, click below. Type in the search problem box “comment spam” and a form pops up for you to fill out. Or just ignore my rambling as I muck about.
How the Cookie Crumbles 
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