Field of Wheat

A few years ago, Sparky's dear old friend, Poppy, who lives in Rushville, told us a story about his father that I still think about from time to time. Apparently Poppy's dad was a crumgdeon and a misanthropic ass who didn't really like very many people. Including two of his own children, but that's another story. Anyway, one night years ago, Poppy, his girlfriend Sammie from the Big City (that would be Indianapolis), and his family were eating dinner. Most likely it was Sunday supper as the whole family was there. They started talking about politics and an argument insued. It got pretty heated, as these types of conversations often do. Poppy and Sammy from the Big City were of course taking a liberal bent, while some of the others at the table were a bit more moderate. Poppy's father was not only a malcontent, he was a hugely conservative one. Apparently Poppy's father didn't say anything at all during this conversation. Which was normal because on top of it all, he was a fairly taciturn man. As things got more heated, Poppy's dad suddenly said, "Field of wheat, field of wheat. I wish I was in a field of wheat!" Everyone stopped and looked at him, and he just continued eating his good supper as though he hadn't just said something out of the blue. The conversation started up again, and that was that. This has always stuck with me, Sparky, too, and when we are both in situation we don't fancy this sentiment comes to mind. Field of wheat. Field of wheat. I wish I was in a Field of Wheat!

God's Gym

My friend and I joined a gym today, which kind of shocked me as I'm not really the gym joining type. But I've been taking a P.E. course this semester, circuit training, which I really enjoy. In fact it's my most favorite class (of all time!) and an easy A to boot. I've really gotten into the various exercise and weight lifting machines, especially the Ellipitical. I like watching its little computer tell me how many steps I've taken and how many calories I've burned. A woman in my class told me about a budget priced gym not too far from where I live and I decided to check it out as the price seemed right to this Miser. The gym is part of a church called the Dream Center, and it's actually named The Lord's Gym. I really think that it should be called "God's Gym" instead, as I like the alliteration, but oh well. You don't have to be a member of the flock to join, thankfully. It's clean and everything, but a bit on the funky side as some of the machines are out of order. I guess the lord is more concerned with saving souls than with helping people get into shape. But like I said, the price is right so we signed ourselves up. We are going to try to go twice a week, and are looking forward to working out at the Lord's Gym. Amen.

Hot Tub Time Machine!

Last night, Sparky and I saw one of the worst movies ever made with one of the best titles ever: Hot Tub Time Machine. Maybe it's because I had such a hellish week, but when Sparky told me he rented Hot Tub Time Machine, I knew that I would watch it in its entirety no matter how dreadful it was. I needed escapism! I needed to watch a movie about time travel that took place in a hot tub! And even though it was a sadly bad movie, I made Sparky watch the whole thing with me. The title is so awesome! The movie does not live up to its name. Sparky thought it was going to be straight up slapstick, but it turned out to more of a post modern type comedy with not a lot of yucks but rather some mildly amusing bits here and there. There is time travel, however. That takes place in a hot tub. At least Nicolas Cage was not in it, because that would have been a deal breaker. (Krispin Glover has a small part in it, and I do like that him even though he is a bit of a wing nut.)

While we were watching this movie, Sparky could not help comparing it to other comedies, and he started getting all nostalgic for W.C. Fields. Sleeford loved W.C. Fields, and had all of his old movies on DVD, which he loaned to Sparky. They both admired his drunken curmudgeon character, and how he always worked to great effect with children and animals, two of the most notoriously difficult creatures to work with in film. Sparky wished that Hot Tub Time Machine was more like a W.C. Fields movie. Or like the Stooges. I remember when Bee was about seven weeks old there was a Three Stooges Movie Marathon showing on some local station during Memorial Day Weekend. Bee was still in that little newborn stage of waking up every four hours or so for a diaper change, formula, diaper change, and then back to sleep again for another four hours or so. And Sparky and I were both in that sleep depraved stage you get in with infants where your days and night become the same. So we took care of our little Bee and watched the Three Stooges. All weekend long. And we laughed our asses off. I remember we finally took a break to go to the grocery store for some much needed sustenance, and while we there all we did was talk about the Three Stooges (while Bee slept in her little car seat on top of the cart.) We must have been really tired. But to this day, Curly, Larry, Moe, Shemp, babies, and not enough sleep - they seem to all go hand in hand for me.

Anyway, when it is all said and done, I am glad that I finally saw Hot Tub Time Machine. Our friend Buddy predicted that it would do really well when it was first released (strictly because of the title) but it did not and I can see why. But still, if I ever went back in time in a hot tub, I would surely watch Hot Tub Time Machine once again.

Fingernail

Today is a great day. The sun is shining once again, the birds are singing, and this morning my pinkie fingernail finally fell off. A few weeks ago, my little finger accidentally got pinched in our new gate as Sparky was closing it. It hurt like hell, I cried in fact, the finger turned different colors. I had a feeling that I would lose the little fingernail that eventually turned an unnatural shade of grayish blue. But that little nail was tenacious, and it held on to dear life for weeks. The nail itself became detached from the nail bed, but the cuticle would not give it up. So I had a dead, plastic looking fingernail that flapped around, getting caught on things as it went about its business. Sometimes I put a bandage on it to hide it from the world, especially when I was in public, but it always felt much better when I let it air out, free from its cover. Sparky and especially Bee were totally grossed out by it, and whenever I asked if they wanted to see it they would yell "No!" and run from the room. I continuously wiggled that nail around, much like a first grader does with a loose tooth, willing it to fall off. And this morning I managed to peel it away from the cuticle, and it's free at last! I was kind of sad to see it go as it was my favorite fingernail, but I'm hoping that a new and improved one grows in its place. I decided to keep the nail for prosperity (I had to hide it from Bee and Sparky), but I won't include a picture of it or my nail-less finger as it is kind of yucky looking. It is such a relief to finally get rid of that thing that I feel almost reborn in my new, lack-of-little-fingernail-state, ready to take on whatever may come my way. All is right in Peanutland once again.

Savory Sauce

Every week, because I've usually got the time, I bake a couple of loaves of bread, make a big pot of brown rice, dog food for Glenn, maybe some pinto beans, maybe some vegetable stock for soups and stuff, and always a jar of Savory Sauce from The Spot. I heart this Savory Sauce. I guess you could say that I'm addicted to it. I put it over/on top/in everything, including Mac and Cheese, which Bee loves. I thought that I would share it as it's too good to keep to myself. It's from the "world famous" vegetarian restaurant in Hermosa Beach called The Spot, which has been around forever. This sauce, as you probably have guessed, is very savory and tastes great over brown rice, steamed vegetables, tofu, you name it.

3/4 cup almond or safflower oil
3/4 cup water
1/4 cup Bragg's Liquid Aminos
1/8 cup brewer's yeast (flakes or powder)
1/2 tsp kelp powder
1/2 tsp Spike seasoning
1/2 tsp basil
1/8 tsp granulated garlic
1 1/2 tsp lemon juice (I add more because I always have a ton of lemons)
1 1/2 tsp tamari (or soy sauce)
1 package firm tofu (16 oz)

Put it all in a blender and mix until creamy. You could easily halve this recipe or freeze it. Make some today and you won't be sorry.

Hit And Run

Most people were very alarmed and concerned when they heard about the drama of our car crash disaster, wanting to know details and calling for updates. But not Sparky's mom. She didn't seem too fazed by it, and in fact was rather lackadaisical about the whole affair. But it turns out that she had problems of her own. They kind of trump ours, really. Her troubles concern a hit and run situation where a bicyclist was hit and severely injured. And the hit and run driver was her! She hit him as she was making a left-hand turn, knocking him off of his bike. She then proceeded to run right over him, and kept on driving. She did not see him, and at the time thought she had run over a curb or something. (At 84 she is not the world's best driver, and according to Sparky, she was never very good even when she was younger. But she likes being independent, and she still has good health.)

She read about the hit and run accident in her local paper, the Rushville Republican a couple of days after the incident. She got to thinking after reading the description of the car (small and blue), the description of the occupant (a single female driver) and the time and place of the accident (shortly before 9:00 a.m. on Third and Arthur Street) that she could have been the hit and run driver. She went out to look at her car, and sure enough, there was a huge dent in the front of it that hadn't been there before. So she decided that it must have been her, and she turned herself in. Luckily, she was commended for coming forward, and no charges were made against her. I'm not sure how she didn't notice that she hit and ran over the bicyclist, but she is pretty short, and she is old, and like I said, she is not the world's best driver. Her insurance will cover everything, and hopefully that will be the end of it.

I don't know how the bicyclist is faring these days, but he is out of the hospital and recovering at home. The nutty part of this story is actually his situation. He is a 62 year old divorced man who is living with his ex-wife and two other men who were also once married to this ex-wife. Three ex-husbands and one ex-wife all living together in a little house outside of town with no car, no phone, and one mangled bike...

Anyway, Joyce has been rather embarrassed by all of this, but is thankful that things were not worse. And an update on our situation: today, after almost 6 weeks, I have my car back. Finally! They washed it and detailed it, it's all sparkly and clean and looks like a brand new car again, only without that new car smell. Now we just need the stairs repaired. Or we could just install a rope, ladder, and slide. Bee would like that, but not so much Glenn the Dog. Or me, for that matter. I'm guessing that in another six weeks, we'll have it fixed, too.

Car Crash

Almost four weeks ago, some crazy lady crashed her car into our gate, taking out my car and the staircase to our house in the process. Bee and I were not home at the time of the crash, but Sparky was. He said it made a terrific noise. He went out the front door to see what happened, and saw her SUV smashed up against the bumper of my car, the metal gate twisted up between the vehicles with broken glass everywhere. The passenger jumped out and said "Don't worry, she'll pay for everything. Don't worry!" A shocked Sparky attempted to walk down the still intact stairs, and the second he stepped on them they fell out beneath his feet. As he plunged down twenty feet, he grabbed the railing but this too gave out and he was dangling like Indiana Jones until he was able to break his fall by swinging away from the debris and letting go. As Sparky stood up among the rubble of the stairs, the passenger kept assuring him that everything would be taken care of.

Apparently the driver, who was picking up the passenger from our next door neighbors, thought that her car was in drive and she tromped the gas pedal in order to go up the hill. But her car was really in reverse, so instead of going uphill she went downhill right into our property instead. Just minutes after this dramatic event occurred, Bee and I returned home. I was very surprised to see a SUV in our yard, and I thought for a second that I must be seeing things. But no, there it was. The driver was still in the car, and I went over to ask her what the hell happened. Sparky and the Passenger were next door at this point, so I wasn't sure what was going on. The driver, Amber was her name, seemed completely out of it, and I asked if she was drunk. No, she said she wasn't. Amber said she was sorry, and that her insurance would pay for everything. At that point, Sparky and the Passenger returned, and the Passenger told me that Amber had a "medical" condition. Amber was definitely on something, I mean how to you confuse reverse with drive (unless you're a Republican)? It seemed so nutty.

Anyway, the police and fire department arrived, reports were taken, insurance information exchanged, the SUV was towed away, and to our amazement Amber wasn't arrested for driving while incoherent. Her mother came to pick her up, and away they all went. Sparky, Bee and I were left with a useless gate, broken stairs, and smashed car. It will be four weeks tomorrow since this happened. We now have a brand new gate that is like a penny, shiny and new. However, I still do not have a car. They are having a problem getting a new bumper for it. Also, no stairs! We've grown used to only using the downstairs as our only means of egress, but after it first happened, I kept trying to go out the front door, only to be confronted by a pile of rubble. Some day, hopefully soon, this too will be remedied. But it's funny what you get used to.