It’s “Hey Rene J” Today!

It doesn’t matter what I do. If a piece of avocado touches a plate or bowl it will be firmly cemented on that dining dish via the dishwasher. I might as well wash by hand because I’m going to have to do it anyway.

Because of this propensity for stick-with-it-ness, I began to wonder what that little botanical fruit is doing inside my body? To what is it adhering? Are they really that good for me?

Prompted by these niggling thoughts I did my research and present the findings. I’ll keep eating these overpriced gems because I like them and they have a bunch of good stuff packed into such a little berry. (Yes, technically a berry.) And I’ll keep running the plates through the dishwasher and rewashing them, ever hopeful they will one day make it out of there without baked on green stuff.

• Calories: 322
• Fat: 30 grams
• Protein: 4 grams 
• Carbs: 17 grams
• Fiber: 14 grams
• Vitamin C: 22% of the daily value (DV)Trusted Source
• Vitamin E: 28% of the DV
• Vitamin K: 35% of the DV
• Riboflavin (B2): 20% of the DV
• Niacin (B3): 22% of the DV
• Pantothenic acid (B5): 56% of the DV
• Pyridoxine (B6): 30% of the DV
• Folate: 41% of the DV
• Magnesium: 14% of the DV
• Potassium: 21% of the DV
• Copper: 42% of the DV
• Manganese: 12% of the DV

My return trip was interesting as I drove across the interstate with “blizzard warnings” for today. I was glad I left yesterday for that reason, even though I battled winds the entire way.

As I was mid-way in my drive, three weather alerts for dust storms came through. I did make it through some “brown fog” arriving home half an hour before the snow-hail arrived. What an interesting day of travel.

It all worked out, and the wind drama kept me from tallying roadkill or birds.

Every now and then I need a good drive. In the first hour of my adventure yesterday I was excited to see four Prairie Hawks. Taking that as an average, I figured I might be able to identify at least 20 of them on my six-hour hike to the Midwest region. Thus, I began the goal of spotting birds for my entertainment.

I have a penchant for counting when I’m on the road, probably a result of playing the “license plate” game when we traveled by car in my youth. We were always tallying. So, the score?

• Eleven hawks, two of which were in flight
• Two dead skunks, one rather odiferous
• Four deer, two alive and two deceased
• Five roadkill victims, unidentified

There is no counting regarding livestock on the journey. I should have been totaling up flapping pieces of plastic on the fences. The winds have definitely left their mark along the I-70 alley of turbines. I’ve taken the liberty of renaming the highway, “Wind Farm Alley.”

What to tally for the return trip? I’m just hoping for smooth sailing in this dicey weather month. I already hear the gusty gales tuning up.

…springs eternal!

For the past two evenings I have slept with the window cracked at night. It’s just been so warm and sleep evasive that I had to get some cold air in that realm. Of course, now I’m really itching to start that “garden in my dreams” plan.

Yes, last year my six gorgeous ferns were wiped out by hail two weeks after purchase. (Along with my car) They never returned to their former glory until approximately one day before I got rid of them – to a self-proclaimed “fern nut” who was willing to work with them. My gorgeous begonia finally bloomed beautifully in the garage in October, and my plan was to winter it since it cost an arm and a leg at the local gardening center. That intention never panned out as the chill of the garage doomed half the plant one evening. I then lost interest in being a nurse in the nursery.

Now a houseplant? I cannot kill them, even if I try. My benign neglect works wonders with this light here, and apparently they are as stubborn as I. They just keep going until I notice the droop or dead leaves. There’s always something of a resurrection around them.

So the dream garden? Well, it can’t be too big and it has to be hail and wind-proof and probably have a drip system. It should probably be a faux enterprise this season for the flowers, with the continued visits to farmer’s markets for produce, and the discontinuation of comparing my flowers to that of my neighbors. (Hers survive it all and we’re backyard enthusiasts. They even make it through winters in her garage!)

Well, at least it might look as if I know what I’m doing?

This new IPad thinks it knows what I intend to type. I find myself constantly changing what it inserts or changes as I rapidly whip through my missives. (Oh – thank you – typing 101 or whatever class I took for a semester in 10th grade.)

65 wpm was my highest on a manual typewriter. My entire goal was to be the fastest in the class, but with five other contenders, two of whom were my guy friends hunting and pecking, it wasn’t much of an achievement. I can copy quickly. However, this new “prediction” drives me nuts! I’m reading what it thinks I want to write, yet, if I stop to actually agree it takes me much longer to put thoughts to the paper. Thus, I’m not watching the screen anymore, but the television as I type.

How many words-per-minute would I do today? Hm. I predict far less than my old achievement on a manual.

My third grade classmate and I were on the same page. Back in “The Good Life,” she was cleaning her desk. Apparently I was doing the exact same thing last week! I found a card I had stashed and sent it to her with a lovely, lengthy rambling-about-nothing-much note. (Something I might have perfected?)

In her cleaning she tossed a card from her desktop which I had sent last year, one that made her laugh. Imagine her surprise when the exact same card showed up a few days later?

After we laughed about that on the phone this morning, me getting over my embarrassment at not recalling the first missive, I had a brilliant idea! I am going to go and buy the rest of those cards and send them each year until they run out. I think she’ll appreciate it.

The risks inherent in friendship…looking like an idiot and being one with a person who understands. And of course, finding great practical jokes to employ.

For every hour of time difference in your travel, you will require the same number of days to readjust your internal clock upon returning to your usual abode? I’ve still got two full days to claim before I can quit using the “sleep deprivation” excuse.

It does explain this interminable jet lag feeling. The dreary weather today might have helped me adjust, even as I sit here with a heating pad to try and warm my toes. (I was outside in my fashion boots, not my proper winter gear. My tootsies got cold!) Just having a slow, grey day is somehow calming. There is no gorgeous weather beckoning me, no errands that need to be attended, no demands on my time, and probably the best reason I’m feeling somewhat back-to-normal, my hair appointment this morning! “Chop, chop!” My stylist loves it when I give her free range.

So while my hair looks great, I’m not nodding off at the table, and I have a dinner date with fish, things are looking rather hunky-dory. Do you know where that term originated? Neither do I. I do not know.

You know you need them or you drift around looking for one.

I’m kicking myself to get back into the Thursday routine I’ve pretty much kept for years – cleaning and organizing this domain of which I am the chatelaine. (Of course, I don’t exactly know how many keys there are to this abode and where they all are. I did try to organize them once, but it left more questions than answers?)

Back to the need for routine. If I don’t do the cleaning it gets left for another day. Review the upcoming week, update the calendar, do one undesirable task, and it at least gives the impression of being prepared for the weekend, which we know, begins on Friday.

Hm. Perhaps we commence by having a Hostess cupcake, one of which is left over from snack time at class this morning? That should give me the kick I need!

Once again, weather alerts have come twice a day warning of impending doom.

The plow is still at the ready as we prepare for battle on the land and with the pen! Enjoy this brief spelled-correctly, spell of spring. Ooh! Fun alliteration on that one.

We have definitely entered the “engineering” phase of toddler-hood. Yes, it was our privilege to corral two little activity seekers yesterday sans their leader, the three-year old. Testing, exploration and freedom ruled the roost with those two!

First of all, they enjoyed playing with a few of their elder sibling’s toys and actually can say her name associated with them, all with a mischievous glance at you for recognition, of course. A few times I couldn’t find one of them – but then the errant one would appear from a doorway giving me reason to wonder what was up. However, the opportunity to “do it myself and figure this thing out” reigned supreme. This only makes sense.

They wanted to “clip themselves” into their car seats. (Do you realize how long we would be waiting in the car before being remotely able to turn the ignition on with this method? There are three clips associated with safely!) They can consume a good five minutes working on the highchair clips, too, maybe longer if other adults are engaged in conversation ignoring them. (Lunch time can be a dual purpose activity now.) They get clipped into the stroller. (It was more fun to stand there trying to clip the stroller attachments than ride in it.)There are clips on the swings they own, the wagon they sit in. Clips, clips, clips! My hardly-nimble-anymore fingers are continually challenged. When they get a clip clipped – life is grand – until it has to be unclipped to return to the engineering study.

It made me realize why their mother gave up on hair clips for those two. They are easy feats of engineering. You put them in, they take them out. “Rinse and repeat” for entertainment.