Author: Rene

There was a report on this morning’s news of a man catching a flight to find himself the only passenger. My daughter and I could have made the news, too!

Years ago we flew to San Francisco with a connecting flight. We landed, deplaned, sat in the small terminal awaiting our 20-minute flight, and sat. There was no one at the gate, the counters, and of course, no security as it was pre-911. What did we do? We called my husband.

As a 500 million mile flyer, (slight exaggeration) he knew the ropes. He learned we still had a flight and we just had to wait. Apparently, our connection left early as everyone but my daughter and I were there. Perhaps they were gambling we wouldn’t show? We did and had an entire flight to ourselves.

The flight attendant did her job and ran through the safety business. We sat in the rear and mid-flight rang her little call button. We just wanted to thank her and give her a little something to do.

Apparently those days of travel are gone with thousands of delays this weekend. Safe travels holiday wanderers.

The recipe taunted me, looking so delicious. “Easy. Simple. Ingredients in your pantry.” These were the descriptors in my search for an uncomplicated appetizer.

There were 13 ingredients, and only salt and pepper are in my pantry! I may have to head back to that old church cookbook for an idea. Those tried-and-true really relied on what was at hand. As a matter of fact, whenever I feel the urge to bake, I know I’ll have the ingredients and the recipe right there.

It’s too hot for any culinary crafting anyway. I guess I’ll just keep researching.

Along with ice cream, nothing else initiates summer like an outdoor concert. Last week I happily attended two!

While one concert was at the Botanic Gardens on the lush lawn, attended by hundreds and surrounded with floral delight, the other was in a backyard with family and friends surrounded by neighborhood dogs. Of course, the second one was my favorite since the lead guitarist was my son! I am now officially a groupie mom.

Onward summer fun!

This musing made me laugh as I often think, “How can she even muster the strength to open her eyes with those lashes?” My eyes are weary enough without adding more weight than my cheap mascara offers.

This came to mind as I have had difficulty in fully removing my mascara during my “beauty routine.” Perhaps washing my face with warm water rather than cold could solve the problem? It would require additional time in my hectic schedule, but could be worth a try.

Stay tuned for more beauty tips.

That’s the title of the photo given by my Canadian gem-of-a-friend, “Pusan.” It seems fitting to send us into the weekend as I bake and cook and plan a meal. The sun is out with the promise of a few dry days. Ice cream is on the menu!

We had a wonderful Midwest-type of thunderstorm early morning – as in midnight on. Stunning skies, torrential rain, and of course, thunder.

Years ago I was babysitting my siblings during such a storm when the loudest crack in the world was heard. Our house shook. Of course, we were used to storms and all let out a “whoop!” The next morning our parents asked if we were scared but we were not really too fazed. We hadn’t called them to come home so I guess we were fine? They proceeded to inform us that the lightening had struck the biggest tree by the side of the house. Dumb kids.

Last night the boom was so loud I actually texted my neighbor at 12:48 a.m. to ensure she was okay. I knew she couldn’t possibly have slept through that one. “Yes, all good. Sounded like a canon.”

As long as no one gets hurt I do enjoy the fury of Mother Nature. She merely mirrors the unrest in the world. And continues to bring beneficial rains keeping me mowing ever single week for days at a time. Never has this world been so green. Thanks, Mom.

Somewhere in Europe, in a three-story house, there is a box in a basement closet that I was supposed to take with me to the airport. It’s about 3X3X5 feet. It has clothes in it. I remembered the box after I was at the airport struggling to find my ticket.

Of course, this was the dream that woke me this morning. I had already returned to the house once to collect four coats I had left behind, so I couldn’t go back for the box, and I couldn’t find my ticket. It was tough to wake up. I tried to get back to sleep to resolve the issue, but alas, could not. Instead I got up and mowed the lawn before the heat of the day.

Perhaps that was the gift of the harrowing dream? Now I want to go and clean out my closets!

Growing up in tiny town, middle America, pretty much meant the village knew where you were and what you were up to. It all circled around and either came back to haunt or taunt.

Just remembering those lovely moms who kept us in line. Thanks to Betty, Mom’s best friend and neighbor, whose phone number I inadvertently called from college because her number was the one I called most! Who called home back then?

Monday Mom Musing.

My daughter came to check my availability for some fun stuff she has in store without her daughter. We are happy to oblige, of course.

As she perused my availability, she noted that I was scheduled to be the accompanist for a wedding. This was yesterday, three hours before my commitment. I was sitting at the kitchen table with her, totally ignorant of my schedule.

I did know about it 18 months ago, did receive a “save the date,” did write it on the calendar, and yet, forgot to look at the day when I awoke. Also, I didn’t outline it in red, as I do normally for important things. Egads! Thank goodness she read my calendar after I commented, “I’m just planning on staying home today.”

It might have been the best accompaniment I have ever provided merely because I showed up!

The wedding was beautiful, by the way.

Yard work does not come without injury in my world. My arms are the proof – and hey – I even had longish sleeves on?

Sure I gashed a hole in my arm cutting down a dead shrub. Yes, the belt on the riding mower broke mid-stream, causing a great disturbance in the repair force around here. It could have broke for anyone? And the welt on my other arm is subsiding after last week’s trimming attempt. All pale in comparison to the fact I nearly cut my finger off sawing a log years ago.

I was about 15, helping Dad, insisting I could saw that log. The saw jumped, slicing my finger. I was too stubborn and aghast to admit defeat, wrapping and nursing that digit forever. I’m sure my dad noticed the attempts to hide my left hand, but he never said anything, even after I sported a very pink scar the rest of my high school years.

I learned that bandaids can be sutures. I haven’t sawed any limbs off of myself yet. So overall, it was a pivotal event.

This jewel-of-a-moment was brought to you by my angst in not being able to finish mowing the property due to the abundance of rain. I know it will dry one day, I will mow, and the mower and I will be whole once again.