"Happy Talk Talk Talk Talk Happy Talk"

For some odd reason, today I was thinking about how different it is to communicate with one another these days. I remember, with extreme fondness, the days in Chicago when my friends and I would stand outside one another's house and shout, "Yoh Oh, _____________ (person's name)! Can you come out and play?" We would do this as many times as it took before someone would either come to the door or we'd give up and try to call someone else out. We were relentless in our attempt to call that friend out to play - each time getting just a bit louder - until we were screaming at the top of our voices.

Fast forward some 50 years to the way kids communicate with one another today. TEXTING! I have generally embraced most new technology advancements, but this is one I cannot understand. Texting is by far the dumbest invention to date. This technological phenomenon is breeding a generation of people who cannot communicate (TALK) to one another face to face. They seem to hide behind the little keyboard on their cell phones. People make dates, break up, get mean, laugh... with a teenie tiny keyboard rather than a voice. Not only is is dumb, but it can also be dangerous - especially when done behind the wheel of a car. I don't think anyone has been immune from seeing some dufus texting while driving. Kids, young adults, and even some "regular" adults have simply given up on using their voices to speak to someone. I don't get it. I admit I do most of my communication via email and through this blog, but I do still enjoy hearing someone's voice on the other end of my phone line. I also delight in hearing the voice on the other end of the line actually happy to hear MY voice too.

OMG! I sound like my mother. I think this retired thing has gotten to me.

Thankful

Thanksgiving is upon us. One of my favorite holidays. When I taught I recall how kids would moan and grumble under their breath when asked to write about something for which they were thankful. Sixth graders had "been there, done that" in all of the previous grades, and for them it was just another stupid assignment. Truth be told I probably would have reacted the same way back in sixth grade. Kids typically want to say they are thankful for all of the materialistic things in their lives - their cell phone, iPod, wii system, PS3, or their flat screen plasma TV. It was always hard to get them to think about the things they should be thankful for - family, friends, food, roof over their head, clothing, and good health. These are all the things that most kids just take for granted. Maybe too many adults do too.

I know many families have a tradition before they begin their Thanksgiving meal. They go around the table, each person sharing one thing for which they are thankful. My family never did that, mainly because in an Italian family there is never a break in the conversation, because there are several going on simultaneously. Italians can be part of one conversation, jump into another one and get back into the original one without missing a thing. Amazing. Not that we weren't thankful for all of the things I mentioned. You can be sure we were.

Preparation for Thanksgiving in the Guagenti household began days in advance. My grandma would make homemade pasta and it would be hanging on sheets placed over the furniture on which to dry. She would make her delicious Bolognese sauce, which simmered on the stove for hours. She and my grandpa would make homemade Italian sausage on the old-fashioned meat grinder. Sometimes the pasta meal would be gnocchi. My cousins and I had the job of "rolling" the gnocchi off our forks to put the impression into the little blob of pasta to help in its cooking. Inevitably we would have gnocchi wars - flinging the dough at one another. My grandma would have a fit, and we would laugh even harder. Other years the pasta of the day was tortellini or passatelli (my personal favorite). These pastas were made for grandma's homemade chicken broth. My job would be to turn the little round dough into the sailor hat shape. Very fun. Baking would be going on as well - Italian cheesecake, Zuppa Inglese, cookies, pies. Our table would include pasta, turkey, ham, and several vegetables. After dinner we would have fruit and nuts. I used to love to use the nutcracker to get at the nut meats. Desserts would then be served along with coffee. The meal ended with roasted chestnuts and Mogan David wine. My grandfather was the chestnut roaster in the family, and he used his iron stovetop roaster, with a crank, to roast the chestnuts to perfection. He would then wrap them in a towel to steam them. We would anxiously wait for him to tell us they were ready. When my grandpa passed away the job went to my dad whose job it became until his passing. The chestnut roaster went to my brother who has resumed the role of roaster.

As in most families, then and now, after dinner the men would adjourn to the TV room to watch football and sleep while the women would clean up and catch up on gossip. The kids would play in the basement, oblivious to what the grownups were doing upstairs. That probably hasn't changed as our family has seen the normal changes time brings - deaths and births. I know I will awaken very early in the morning while Artie enjoys a chance to sleep in. I will think about all the things, past and present, that I am thankful for. The love I have experienced since my first breath to today. The people I care so much about. The wonderful opportunities I have been afforded in my life. The unconditional love of a certain Yorkshire Terrier. The gift of three precious grandchildren. The amazing friends I have known and love. I am very thankful on this, and every other day of my life. Happy Thanksgiving!

You CAN Go "Home" Again!

Today was a pivotal day for me in terms of my retirement. I went back to Nerge School for the first time since leaving in June. I had my share of butterflies wondering how I would feel walking in as an outsider for the first (actually second) time in 24 years. I wondered how I would be received. Would people be happy to see me? I was so worried about all of this, but when I walked into the building it felt like home. It didn't look different, it didn't feel different, it was the same Nerge School that I loved for so long. I didn't do it alone - I brought reinforcements. Paulette and Chris agreed to do this visit with me, and that made things a whole lot better. Chris had the same apprehensions I did, and we laughed about it later at lunch, agreeing that we were silly to think otherwise. The hugs were reassuring, as were the smiles and laughter that I didn't realize how much I had missed. I actually feel a bit sad right now. I have worked hard at being a retiree - distancing myself as much as possible from my old life, but one who is happy in her decision to leave. I know the sadness I am feeling is not for the job (no way) but rather for the friendships made over 24 years of my life. As Artie said when I told him of my feelings, "This will pass, Renee." and I know he's right. I love the place in my life I am in right now. I know I did the right thing, but I also know how lucky I was to have been part of such an amazing school. Not without its problems for sure, but it houses the greatest bunch of people one could ever have the honor to work with. Having been in other schools I knew this all along, and that is the sadness I feel right now. It was a privilege to be a teacher at Nerge School. I worry that some of the younger teachers don't fully understand this. I hope they know how lucky they are to be working in such a special place. Sometimes leaving a place makes you aware of what you had. Guess what? I knew it all along.

Tis' the Season

The leaves have fallen, there's a chill in the air, the days are "shorter" and that means it's time for... CRAFT SHOWS! I am admittedly a craft show junkie. I can't make it through the Christmas season without attending a few. There was a time when I didn't flinch at spending $6.00 just to enter a craft show...times have changed! I am, as they say, on a "fixed income" now that I've retired. I have become a more discriminate craft show junkie. Actually I began to protest the admission fees soon after these large companies that run some of the craft shows in our area have the audacity to charge people just to walk in the door! Don't get me wrong - I don't mind a couple bucks here and there, but an $8.00 admission fee is just ridiculous in my opinion. I understand that crafters have to make money, but they are being charged exorbitant fees to rent space in these venues - some upwards of $125! Sadly, the entrance fees do not go into the purses of the crafters themselves, just into the grimy hands of the organizers. Paying $8.00 to SPEND money once I get through the doors seems a bit crazy if you ask me. Some venues also charge for parking, which means you are in the hole even more before they let you in to spend more money.

I can tell I am getting older and perused too many of these craft shows when I can cruise through one at warp speed - my craft show "vision" knows a good booth from a bad one. I feel almost robotic when I scan the aisles and make the decision to linger at a booth or breeze past it. I can spot a crocheted toilet paper holder from miles away these days and have trained my eyes to probe for something more creative. I have also found myself actually saying, WAY too many times, "I can make that myself!" knowing I probably COULD, but never actually WOULD. I have even snuck a photo or two, using my camera phone, so sure I could actually recreate some of the items I see. Tsk...tsk. I am my mother's child.

Morning's Glory/Apnea's Hell

I am an early riser. I love morning. Crazy? Probably to some people whose favorite time of day is "in the midnight hour". Not so for me. I come by this honestly. I was raised by a mom who thought sleep was a "waste of time". I lived with a grandpa who arose before some people were just getting into bed for the night. Grandpa most likely had sleep apnea, which unfortunately I inherited via genetics. Grandpa's snores literally shook the house. He would awaken, head to the kitchen (in the basement, of course - we ARE Italians after all), and grab a jar of coffee that sat on the stove from the night before. He would heat it up in a tiny saucepan and get his first shot of caffeine in those wee hours of the new day. Personally, when I was growing up I found this disgusting. Funny that now I enjoy cold coffee that has sat around for a few hours. Genetics is amazing, isn't it?

So, back to sleep apnea for a moment. Yes, I have it. Yes, I had to have a "sleep test" at a sleep clinic in St. Charles. Artie swore that during my snoring fits I would stop breathing. This freaked me out just enough to go have this test. Reluctantly I made the appointment, and on the day I was to go for the test I packed my ONLY pair of pajamas (I used to be a nightgown gal), toothpaste and brush, a book to read, and my pillow, and off I went.

Artie dropped me off at 9:00 P.M. and walked me up to the second floor of Merritt Sleep Clinic to check me in. My apprehension was indeed justified because soon after I completed the obligatory questionnaires and forms I was hooked up with more wires and probes than the alien in Roswell must have been. I had wires on my head, chest, and legs. I was further creeped out when I found out that someone would be watching my every move from down the hallway on a computer screen. You might imagine how weird that would be to have some sleep technician "Big Brother/Sister" watching me sleep..and snore. Before the technician, who by the way was a hoot and a half, wished me a good night, she told me I could just shout out (literally) if I needed anything. I was sure that I would never fall asleep...but I did. As luck would have it, my pea-sized bladder was on overdrive that night, so of course I had to call for someone to come unhook me and tell me how to maneuver with all the wires hanging...and how not to drop them into the toilet. OY! I am a pretty active sleeper and trying to get comfy with all these wires hanging this way and that was not easy.

Somehow I made it through that night and was awakened at 6 A.M. by the tech (who was just too perky after the night I had). As she unhooked me I asked her if I snored. To this she replied, "Girl, if I didn't know better I would have thought there was a lumberjack in your bed instead of you!" So, Artie was right. I did snore and I did have sleep apnea...

Fast forward to my life since that night from hell at Merritt Sleep Clinic. Every night since my CPAP machine became part of my life, I have had to go to sleep tethered to "THE BEAST" which is what I call my sleep machine. I have a mask that goes up my nostrils, attached to a hose that is attached to the CPAP machine. On more than one occasion Guinness has stared at me in horror. Artie, for whom I blame this all on, has the audacity to say, on a fairly regular basis, "Pilot to Co-pilot. Are we cleared for takeoff?" Personally, I think it is more likened to Darth Vader's gaspy noise.

One final anecdote - once when Landon had a "sleepover" at our house we crawled into bed (Artie, Landon, Guinness and me) and I decided to be a rebel and not wear my mask. I felt so free and fell asleep super quickly, only to be awakened first by Artie telling me to put the mask back on. I ignored him and fell back to sleep again. This time a little voice woke me up with, "Grandma! Put the mask on!". I did.

Those X%$#%$@*^ Early Bird Christmas Shoppers

Everyone knows someone who has their Christmas shopping done well before Christmas. In fact, some people shop for the next Christmas the day after most of us have just finished throwing out the wrapping paper! I am not afraid to admit that those people annoyed the daylight out of me! Disdain and jealousy would grip me, yet secretly I wished I was organized enough to be just like them...or have the TIME to do it! I recall feeling my panic and stress levels elevate when those people would tell me in October that they were finished with their shopping. "What?" "Huh?", I would ask, and under my breath I was cursing them and even snubbing my nose at them. "Who shops that early?" I would ask myself. "How can you be in the holiday spirit in October?" I would sarcastically ask. Well, guess what? It is mid-November and I have done a lot of my shopping for Christmas already. And you know what? It feels GRRRREAT! For the first time in over 25 years I have done what I never have been able to do before - shop without stress. I am sure everyone who is reading this can relate to those elevated stress levels and the pre-Christmas shopping daze that, for me at least, lasted up until Christmas Eve day at times, when I found myself rushing into stores for that last minute treasure that I was certain I'd forgotten. I also love that I am doing this shopping without a certain husband, who really never was much help, truth be told. This post is not meant to make anyone jealous or nervous. It is just such a great feeling that I had to share it. You can curse me under your breath, but guess what? I won't care! Teeeheeee!

Laughter Feels Great

Last night Artie and I went to see comedian and game show host Howie Mandel. We have loved Howie since the days of the medical show "St. Elsewhere" right on up to his current gig as the host of "Deal or No Deal". Howie is just plain silly and he makes me laugh. Last night at the Hemmens Cultural Center in Elgin, Howie made a lot of people, including Artie and me, laugh till our sides hurt. The laughter started before we even sat down because the ushers were passing out packs of hand sanitizer promoting Howie's book called "Here's the Deal. Don't Touch Me". If you ever watch "Deal or No Deal" you probably know that Howie will not shake hands with anyone, rather they do fist bumps with one another. This is because Howie Mandel suffers from many mental issues, including OCD and ADHD, as well as being claustrophobic and germphobic. There is irony in the fact that someone who suffers from so many issues makes people laugh. Howie has confronted his demons and chooses to use them to make people forget about any problems THEY may have for a little while. Howie is constant energy from the time he enters the stage until he leaves at the end of his show. He is a master of improvisation too. People who chose to heckle him were taken apart with such cleverness that even they had to laugh at themselves. If any of you reading this have watched "Bobby's World", which is now available on On Demand (Comcast), you would know how much fun it is to hear Howie do Bobby's voice. He was also the voice of Skooter (early Sesame Street character and sister of Skeeter) and Gizmo, the furry alien from "Gremlins". Howie Mandel is one talented guy. We thank him for an evening of side-splitting laughter and tears running down our faces - good tears.

You Can Take the Teacher Out of the Classroom...

...but you cannot take the classroom out of a teacher. I want to discuss two of my pet peeves - misspelled words for public viewing and mispronunciation of words.

Everyone knows that teachers are trained to teach kids how to read, write, spell, decipher, problem-solve, etc. It's what we do. As a former educator I am still a master at spotting spelling errors on signs, billboards, on social networking sites...and it drives me mad! I prided myself on being able to read and decipher any kids' writing. Why, I even think I may be able to decipher hieroglyphics if given the chance. Misspelled words make me crazy! I went through my share of "red ink" in my 27 years of teaching. Misspelled words make me crazy! I may even admit to some OCD traits when it comes to this, but it really bugs me. Now I know some will defend their spelling errors on social networking sites, like Facebook, Twitter, My Space, etc. (or even in texts or emails) claiming they are the result of typos. That may very well be, but I am saying that people just don't care about spelling things correctly. My own children, both of whom are college graduates, are always hearing it from me when they make errors in emails or on Facebook. Spellcheck? Don't even get me started with that. Spellcheck has fostered people's laziness. For goodness sakes, we get the little red squiggly line in our text when we are writing on the computer and misspell a word, and still people ignore that. The irony comes in that very squiggly line I mentioned. Spellcheck tells us how to correct words and we argue with it or ignore it completely. Grrrr...

My other pet peeve (or OCD trait) is hearing people butcher/abuse our language. I am not talking about people who are not American born. I am talking about people who took their first breath and every one since right here in the good old U.S.A. I know I have mispronounced a word or ten million myself, but hearing things mispronounced by people who are paid to speak makes all the hair on my body stand on end. People on television, in my humble opinion, have absolutely NO EXCUSE for mispronouncing words. Let me "aks" you, do you agree? How many media people cannot even pronounce the word ASK? These people are being paid to communicate, educate, or entertain with their words. Travel guru Rick Steeves is one of the biggest offenders. I cringe when he mispronounces names of places, historical information, artwork, etc. How many times have I heard him butcher the name of one of the most influential families in Italian history, the Medici family? He repeatedly says "MeDEEchee" instead of "MEDichee". Shouldn't he have a responsibility to pronounce things like this correctly? Rick is great at what he does, don't get me wrong, but when he says things incorrectly I want to scream! Hmmmm...maybe we should now have PRONUNCIATION CHECK in our computer tool bars?

Veterans Day

This is my first Veterans Day out of the classroom and it feels weird. Weird because every year I did something to honor our veterans. I would send home a questionnaire with my students who were to interview a veteran - an optional activity because not all of my students had a veteran in their life. I sent this survey home in advance of this special day of recognition because I felt it was an important day. Hearing about the experiences of veterans, in their own words, had a huge impact on my students. Those who participated read the responses of the veteran they interviewed. The kids always listened intently to these interviews and it gave new meaning to why we celebrate our vets. None of us would have the freedom we have as Americans if it weren't for the sacrifice of so many. Not all of the veterans whose words were read aloud served in battle or even left the States for that matter. It wasn't important that they have been in battle. What was important was to hear of their love for our country, their personal sacrifices in the name of freedom. That was what counted. As a teacher you can hang posters, read about wars, talk about current events, etc...but hearing the words of someone who, by choice, has participated in the defense of our nation, is priceless. It afforded me many "teachable moments" and a chance to bring American pride to light for these young people, some of whom might one day make the sacrifice as well. For me personally, Veterans Day is a chance to reflect on people I know who served our country - family and friends. My grandfather served in the Italian army, battling the Facists. He was gassed and bore the scars of pigmentation loss for the rest of his life. My uncle got malaria during his time of service. My father served in the military too, but by the grace of God he was injured in maneuvers shortly before his battalion was shipped overseas, where only a few returned alive. Sacrifice. My brother was born while my dad was away, as so many war babies were. I know how hard it was for my mom to be without him during such a special time in her life. Sacrifice. Today we have so many sacrificing for our freedom - in Iraq, Afghanistan, and all over the world. I wake up every day wondering how I will spend my day. They wake up every day thankful for the day. Sacrifice. Thank you, veterans. There are no words that can express how thankful I am for what you have sacrificed.

Rock Star "Boomers" Rockin' Out with Don

Last night Artie and I went to see Don Henley in concert at the Rosemont Theatre, my favorite venue of all in the Chicago area. This concert was a birthday gift from Artie to me. It was an awesome concert, as we anticipated it would be. A while back we had the pleasure of seeing the Eagles and just enjoyed them so much that this concert was yet another opportunity to hang on to our youth. Yes, I said hang on to our youth. Let's face it, concerts are a chance to be young again. It's dark in there, the music is loud, and people all around you are rockin' out, so why not us? It was fun to look around and see "peers" - meaning Baby Boomers - clapping and singing along with Don, one of the greatest singers and lyricists of all time. Chances are no one you know is there in close proximity, so who cares if while singing along you sing the wrong lyrics. Ask my kids, I am great at making up my own words to songs. Who cares? It is just plain fun to be singing along with someone whose music has touched so many people. Concerts seem to bring out the rock star in all of us. Who hasn't dreamed of being a rock star? I know I have, as dorky as that may sound. So, because that will never happen, concerts give me (us) the chance to have rock star status in our own minds. I love bopping my head from side to side, clapping, hooting, getting totally into the music. Artie, of course, is much more conservative than me. He claps or stamps out the beat with his feet, but NEVER sings one single lyric (truth be told, I don't think I've ever heard him sing a song out loud, unless he was changing the lyrics to be naughty). Aren't we just the perfect couple? He never sings and I sing the wrong words..typical for 50+ year-old rock star wannabees.

While Don Henley didn't disappoint, his opening group certainly did. I have never seen (or heard) such an awful band. The lead singer was horrible! I cannot believe that Don Henley would choose this group to open for him. When I mentioned that to Artie he said they were probably cheap, and Don would get more of the $$$. It was definitely NOT a sellout last night, so maybe Don did bargain shop. I cannot even remember the name of this New York based group. They did have an awesome lead guitarist, but even he did not save them. Sadly, they played for the first HOUR! I have never seen so many people get up to get drinks or use the bathroom. At one point Artie and I were among two people in our entire row!

So, I guess my rant today is it is fun to get to be young and shameless during a concert. I sure had fun...and I sounded great!

The Joys and Anguish of "Jeopardy"

"And the question is..." Who is...? What is..? Where is...?" "Potent Potables for $200, Alex". I have loved the game show "Jeopardy" for a long time - a life time. I remember the Art Fleming and Don Pardo era, when they began this amazing show back in the 60s. I have watched its set morph from being very low tech to being very high tech. I've watched Alex Trebek's hair color change too. They can change the sets all they want but it will always be the best game show on television. I have enjoyed my opponents over the years. I remember playing against my father first, then my college roommates, then Artie, and then my son - who shares that same Guagenti competitiveness as his ancestors. Dan is my favorite opponent because we both get so into it and cheat and argue about who gave the answer first - such a Guagenti thing! When I play against Artie he always gives the question in his answer - I just blurt out the answer - and then have to listen to him complain that it doesn't "count" because I didn't do it correctly. WHATEVER! The joy of Jeopardy is getting the answers correct, which I must confess has always been difficult. Just how do those contestants KNOW all that stuff? How did that one guy play for a zillion weeks? Who has time to learn all that information? The anguish, conversely, is NOT knowing the answers. I personally gloat when I get an some obscure question correct...and I am embarrassed when I get them (many) wrong. In my retirement I make a point of watching the show if I am home - you know, to keep my brain fresh. I love the categories like Ancient Egyptian History or Artists because these are categories I can sometimes mop my opponents up on. Not so much with Books of the Bible (I'm a Catholic, sort of), The Old Testament (see previous parentheses), and anything to do with science. More joyful moments are when it's "Teen Week" and I can answer my fair share of questions, but there are more anguish-filled moments when the teens clean my clock, answering those Bible and science questions with ease. Even more frustrating is when those it's "Kid Week" (or whatever they call it) and some snot-nosed, pimple face, braces-wearing brat beats me to the buzzer. Talk about anguish!

Speaking of Alex Trebek, does anyone else marvel at the way foreign words and names roll so eloquently from his lips? He is a master of linguistics. He is also one of the most pompous hosts I've seen. Sometimes he can be so condescending to players, so sarcastic. And sometimes he seems to take pleasure in their errors. I am reminded of that rotten game show host in the movie "Slumdog Millionaire". OK, so maybe I am embellishing a bit.

Beauty in Two Forms Today

This was one of the most amazing November days I can ever recall. Seventy-five degrees at one point today. Sunshine made everyone have a spring to their step and a smile on their face. I started the day at the hair salon I've been going to for some 20+ years. My hairdresser, Coleen, is incredible. I am so lucky that my friend Kathy found her so many years ago and turned me on to her. Everyone knows how important a good hairdresser is. Let's face it, you entrust your vanity and pride to them. A bad "do" is one devastating experience. Coleen has NEVER let me down. She knows me and my hair so well. I don't even have to tell her what I want done. She is just intuitive enough to know what I want and need. I look forward to my monthly visits to Perfect Impressions for many reasons. Of course getting rid of my grey hair and unwanted "Frito Bandito" upper lip and eyebrow hair is a given (damned Italian fur). Coleen is the owner of the shop and has been since she was in her 20s. Quite an accomplishment for someone that young to have the chutzpa to own a business. Dawn is the nail tech in the shop and is a hoot and a half. Coleen and Dawn have worked together for years and have what I would call a love/hate relationship. Don't get me wrong - they are truly friends, but the banter that flies between them sometimes is just hysterical. Some of the conversations that come up in the shop are downright X-rated. Sometimes I wonder how the quiet and unassuming clients deal with it. I guess if they didn't like it they wouldn't come back. Discussions can get heated too. Through the years Coleen and her clients have shared stories of much joy as well as much sadness. A hair salon is one place, for me at least, that I sort of feel like Norm when he would walk into "Cheers". Everyone knows my name, but I am better known as "Shanaynay" by the staff - a nickname Coleen gave me years ago that has stuck. I dread the day Coleen closes up shop because I will feel lost. It will be the same feeling that I felt when we moved to Janesville...and I don't want that to happen for a llloooonnnnnggggg time.

Sick of Lovable Losers Status

The Yankees won the World Series last night and since I am one of those long-suffering Cubs fans, I really didn't care...until I started thinking (and that can be dangerous when you are a Chicago sports fan). While the Yankees returned to being World Series winners after a ten-year wait, I couldn't help but think that we Cubs fans have waited ten times as long + one more year! Just this past weekend my family engaged in a discussion about why Chicago can't seem to have a repeat winning team in any sport since the Bulls team that won 6 NBA titles, albeit not consecutively. What IS the deal with our sports teams? My son in law makes fun of me because I am still talking about the '85 Super Bowl winning Bears team and players. He thinks I should move on. What? Why? It's the last time I felt so great about wearing blue and orange. Sure there was the team that got stomped on by Peyton Manning and his Colts, but for some reason that Bears team didn't ignite my blue and orange blood. Oh, and then there are the Cubs. Enough said about that. Sox? Can't say I care one bit about them and their more recent World Series win. I was born into a Cubs family and still have that ill-placed loyalty to them. Bulls? I haven't cared since MJ left. As far as I am concerned the NBA represents a collection of overpaid street thugs with horribly pompous attitudes. Blackhawks? Exciting for the first time in MANY years and the best thing is that they have a very young team. Might be exciting for a few years unless the owners deal them away because they are cheap...another common denominator in Chicago sports. Cheapness!

On another note, my sister in law and I enjoyed a day out together today, lunching and shopping. While out and about we passed one of the Halloween stores that blow in and out for Halloween, make enough money to send their owners to Bali for three months and then disappear. We talked about that and then the conversation led to discussing our various aches and pains. Then it came to me that when you get older you don't get invited to cool parties any more. We laughed about how neither of us got invitations to a Halloween party for the last couple of years, and couldn't remember the last time we were invited to a New Years Eve bash or had any desire to usher in the New Year at some overpriced venue. My sister in law decided it's because none of our peers (and us) can stay up past 9:00 any more! So true...

Time For Soup

This morning it is just chilly chilly! Makes me think about comfort foods to warm up the body, mind, and soul. My favorite blogger, PROUD ITALIAN COOK, sent this amazing recipe just in time. I have always loved escarole in any way, shape, or form. This soup just warms the coggles of my soul. Can't wait to make it. Thought I'd share it with you...

Beans, Greens, and Broken Spaghetti Soup
2 cans of rinsed and drained cannellini beans or you could use dried.
2 onions chopped
2 carrots diced
1 large bunch of swiss chard, stems removed and leaves chopped.
6-8 cups of homemade stock or a good store bought brand.
Precooked broken spaghetti
Olive oil, fresh finely minced basil, 1-2 crushed garlic cloves, grated parmesan, salt and pepper.

In a heavy soup pot, saute onion, carrot, garlic and chard, then add everything else and simmer for about an hour. If your like me and you save your cheese rinds in the freezer, please add one to your soup, it makes a world of difference to the flavor of your broth, otherwise just add your grated parmesan to your individual bowls.
In a bowl add the cooked spaghetti, and then ladle your soup over the top along with plenty of grated cheese, and if you want, a tiny drizzle of olive oil. Grab a spoon and go curl up on a couch with a good book, or in my case any foodie magazine will do. Enjoy!!
Buon Appetito!

"Chilling" Memories and Yogurt

This morning's chill in the air gave me pause to reflect on the upcoming days of cccccoold weather. I stifled a sinister laugh as I realized I will NEVER have to do outside bus duty again...well, I guess I should never say never. I recall vividly one particularly bitter cold and blustery winter day that I had the dreaded job of bus duty. It was one of those days with a minus sign in front of the temperature reading with windchills that were dreadful. I anticipated how cold it would be and prepared for it in advance, breaking out my real fur coat (shameless, not PC, etc.), a HAT (those who know me know I rarely don any headgear because I get horrible hat hair and am just vain enough to admit it), gloves, boots, and warm socks. I realized once I got outside that the fur of ten Wooly Mammoths couldn't have been enough to keep me warm! I have never in my life been so cold. I actually CRIED out there! Since I wear my own extra layers of insulation (OK, fat) I am usually sporting my own personal summer on most days. That was another reason I was so shocked by how cold I was on that January day. I thought about some of my skinny friends and colleagues and how they would have fared out there...not so well. If I was crying they would have been wailing! So glad that is now a part of my history.

Now to the subject of yogurt. One of nature's finest foods...or so they say. I know how good yogurt is for women - the health benefits are innumerable. I have TRIED for years to like it, spending countless dollars on Whips, Cremes, and more recently Pumpkin Pie, Sugar Cookie, and Eggnog flavors. I have watched countless friends and colleagues gobble down this wonder food with the same look dogs have when you give them a treat - the ummm ummm good face - and I envy them. So, in my eternal quest to try to like yogurt, I was so excited about finding these new flavors while grocery shopping last week. Yesterday I tried, with the highest degree of anticipation, the pumpkin pie flavor. It was a bit more palatable than most yogurts I've tried to choke down, but in the end, it is still yogurt! Sour, gloppy, coats-your-throat-as-it-goes-down yogurt. Well, there is always the Sugar Cookie and Eggnog cartons waiting for me. I will keep you posted.

Sunshine + Massage = A Great Day!

Waking up to sunshine is awesome. Gets my energy up and it is such a mood booster. Problem: one really stiff neck and a sore back (thanks Osteoarthritis!). With Artie working at his office in Lisle I decided it was a good time to call Massage Envy and treat myself to a one-hour massage. A T-bone car accident several years ago that left me with whiplash and a lifetime of neck pain has had me seeking out relief. Enter Massage Envy, which is conveniently located a few minutes away from my home. My "regular" therapist, Anessa, doesn't work on Mondays I found out, so I asked for a recommendation and was booked with Angie. I was very disappointed because Anessa usually works wonders with all the cricks, crinks, knots, and ouchies that I have on my back and neck. I went into this session with a bit of trepidation. Many of my friends will not even consider getting massages because they are intimidated by the process of having a "stranger" put their hands on their bodies. Pain has made me much more receptive to this. I admit the first time I went I was a bit nervous and squirmish. An hour of massage made me a believer! Because massages are personal and when you find a therapist you are comfortable with, having someone new made me a tad anxious. Well, as it turns out, Angie was AMAZING - slight in stature but has hands that feel like those of a 300 pound linebacker. She is my new hero! She has hands sent from heaven! She is intuitive and seemed to pinpoint all of those painful spots on my back and neck. So, I guess Anessa is history. The benefits of massage are many, in fact too many to avoid. Do yourself a favor and get one. It is so worth the squirmies!

Daylight Savings Time and "Walter Payton Day"

I love the first morning of Daylight Savings time, especially if the sun is shining. Will I like it when it's dark at 5, not so much. After the Trick or Treaters rang our doorbell for the last time it was nice to grab that extra hour of sleep, especially after listening to Guinness bark incessantly EACH time the doorbell rang and rushing to grab him before he bolted out the door to great Transformers, princesses, zombies, Draculas and more. We even resorted to holding him in our arms while the other person fed the kids their sugar supply for the day. At one point we had him on his leash, but because he would bolt when the bell rang we were afraid he would hang himself. This canine madness makes Artie and I dread Halloween. I slept until 7:30 and feel great, even though the clock said it was only 6:30. Even that is late for me.

It is a beautiful, crisp (OK, freezing) autumn morning and I am looking forward to watching the Bears game and hoping for a win. Nothing could be any worse than last Sunday's debacle - I hope! Today has been designated "Walter Payton Day" at Soldier Field in honor of the tenth anniversary of Walter's death. Because Walter Payton remains my football hero to this day, I will don my #34 jersey and recall the days when Chicago football was a dream come true. Flashback 1985-86, when it was actually FUN to be a Bears fan! I can vividly recall the day Walter Payton died. I was sitting in the family room of our Janesville house after school when the news broke. I am not ashamed to say that I broke into tears that continued until Artie came home. "Sweetness" may not have been a model husband and father, but on that football field he was poetry in motion. His sinister fun personality also made me like him even more. I know I miss Walter, and hope the city of Chicago can find it in their corrupt hearts to place a statue of him outside OR inside Soldier Field, where it belongs - not in some random park -somewhere for birds to poop on and graffiti artists and gangbangers to practice their craft upon.

Did anyone else read the Herald last Monday about a church that actually prays for the Bears to win? While I admire the idea to call upon higher powers to save this city yet another sports embarrassment, I don't think it's a question of divine intervention - more like some attitude adjustment for the prima donna players who make way tooooo much money, and the coaching staff that needs to be addressed. Perhaps it's time for Lovie Smith and his cronies to move on to another city. Unlike Popeye, he's not "strong to the finish" - maybe he NEEDS to eat some spinach! It is sad to watch him get out-coached most Sundays. Don't even get me started on Ron Turner! He should have been gone YEARS ago. Can you say "run up the middle"? He sure can!

At any rate, BEAR DOWN, CHICAGO BEARS! Embarrass the "Dog Pound" and redeem yourselves for another week...