What this thing is still active?
16 years ago
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Information, Please
This is one of my favorites! Enjoy!
Click here to download the text file of this story
When I was quite young, my family had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished oak case fastened to the wall on the lower stair landing. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I even remembered the number - 105. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked into it. Once she lifted me up to speak to my father, who was away on business. Magic! Then I discovered that somewhere inside that wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing that she did not know. My mother could ask her for anybody's number and when our clock ran down, Information Please immediately supplied the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-receiver came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the toolbench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be of much use crying because there was no one home to offer sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver and held it to my ear. "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two, and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information." "I hurt my fingerrr-" I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question. "Nobody's at home but me," I blubbered. "Are you bleeding?". "No", I replied. "I hit it with the hammer and it hurts". "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it on your finger. That will stop the hurt. Be careful when you use the ice pick," she admonished. "And don't cry. You'll be alright".
A few years later, on my way back to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour between plan connections, and I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister who lived there now, happily mellowed by marriage and motherhood. Then, really without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please." Miraculously, I heard again the small, clear voice that I know so well:"Information." I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you tell me, please, how to spell the word 'fix'?" There was a long pause. Then came the softly spoken answer. "I guess," said Information Please, "that your finger must have healed by now." I laughed. "So it's really still you. I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during all that time...." "I wonder," she replied, "if you know how much you meant to me? I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls. Silly, wasn't it?" It didn't seem silly, but I didn't say so. Instead I told her how often I had thought of her over the years, and I asked if I could call her again when I come back to visit my sister when the semester was over. "Please do. Just ask for Sally." "Goodbye Sally." It sounded strange for Information Please to have a name. "If I run into any chipmunks, I'll tell them to eat fruits and nuts." "Do that," she said. "And I expect one of these days you'll be off for the Orinoco. Well, good-bye."
A TRUE STORY
by Paul Villard
Click here to download the text file of this story
When I was quite young, my family had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood. I remember well the polished oak case fastened to the wall on the lower stair landing. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I even remembered the number - 105. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked into it. Once she lifted me up to speak to my father, who was away on business. Magic! Then I discovered that somewhere inside that wonderful device lived an amazing person - her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing that she did not know. My mother could ask her for anybody's number and when our clock ran down, Information Please immediately supplied the correct time.
My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-receiver came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the toolbench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be of much use crying because there was no one home to offer sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver and held it to my ear. "Information Please," I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two, and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information." "I hurt my fingerrr-" I wailed into the phone. The tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question. "Nobody's at home but me," I blubbered. "Are you bleeding?". "No", I replied. "I hit it with the hammer and it hurts". "Can you open your icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it on your finger. That will stop the hurt. Be careful when you use the ice pick," she admonished. "And don't cry. You'll be alright".
After that, I called Information Please for everything. I asked for help with my Geography and she told me where Philadelphia was, and the Orinco--the romantic river I was going to explore when I grew up. She helped me with my Arithmetic, and she told me that a pet chipmunk--I had caught him in the park just that day before--would eat fruits and nuts. And there was the time that Petey, our pet canary, died. I called Information Please and told her the sad story. She listened, then said the usual things grown-up say to soothe a child. But I was unconsoled. Why was it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to whole families, only to end as a heap of feathers feet up, on the bottom of a cage? She must have sensed my deep concern, for she quietly said, "Paul, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow, I felt better.
Another day I was at the telephone. "Information," said the now familiar voice. "How do you spell fix?". F-I-X." At that instant my sister, who took unholy joy in scaring me, jumped off the stairs at me with a banshee shriek-"Yaaaaaaaaaa!" I fell off the stool, pulling the receiver out of the box by its roots. We were both terrified--Information Please was no longer there, and I was not at all sure that I hadn't hurt her when I pulled the receiver out. Minutes later, there was a man on the porch. "I'm a telephone repairman. I was working down the street and the operator said there might be some trouble at this number." He reached for the receiver in my hand. "What happened?" I told him. "Well, we can fix that in a minute or two." He opened the telephone box exposing a maze of wires and coils, and fiddled for a while with the end of the receiver cord, tightened things with a small screwdriver. He jiggled the hook up and down a few times, then spoke into the phone. "Hi, this is Pete. Everything's under control at 105. The kid's sister scared him and he pulled the cord out of the box." He hung up, smiled, gave me a pat on the head and walked out the door.
All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Then, when I was nine years old, we moved across he country to Boston-and I missed my mentor acutely. Information Please belonged in that old wooden box back at home, and I somehow never thought if trying the tall, skinny new phone that sat on the small table in the hall. Yet, as I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversation never really left me; often in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had when I know that I could call Information Please and get the right answer. I appreciated now how very patient, understanding and kind she was to have wasted her time on a little boy.
A few years later, on my way back to college, my plane put down in Seattle. I had about half an hour between plan connections, and I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister who lived there now, happily mellowed by marriage and motherhood. Then, really without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please." Miraculously, I heard again the small, clear voice that I know so well:"Information." I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you tell me, please, how to spell the word 'fix'?" There was a long pause. Then came the softly spoken answer. "I guess," said Information Please, "that your finger must have healed by now." I laughed. "So it's really still you. I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during all that time...." "I wonder," she replied, "if you know how much you meant to me? I never had any children, and I used to look forward to your calls. Silly, wasn't it?" It didn't seem silly, but I didn't say so. Instead I told her how often I had thought of her over the years, and I asked if I could call her again when I come back to visit my sister when the semester was over. "Please do. Just ask for Sally." "Goodbye Sally." It sounded strange for Information Please to have a name. "If I run into any chipmunks, I'll tell them to eat fruits and nuts." "Do that," she said. "And I expect one of these days you'll be off for the Orinoco. Well, good-bye."
Just three months later, I was back again at the Seattle airport. A different voice answered, "Information," and I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" "Yes," I said. "An old friend." "Then I'm sorry to have to tell you. Sally had only been working part-time in the last few years because she was ill. She died five weeks ago." But before I could hung up, she said, "Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Villard?" "Yes." "Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down." "What was it?" I asked, almost knowing in advance what it would be. "Here it is, I'll read it-'Tell him I still say there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean'"
I thanked her and hung up. I did know what Sally meant.
Paul Villard
Originally published June, 1966 Readers Digest; reprinted with permission in the December 1999 issue of the Singing Wires newsletter, TCI club.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
A Huge Loss
Birth name: Michael Joseph Jackson
Born: August 29, 1958
Died: June 25, 2009 (aged 50)
Good bye, Michael. Rest in peace.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Puzzle
Well, I am officially driving myself insane. While I was doing something in Hotmail (getting rid of old "safe" senders that were long gone so that I could put new "safe" senders on the list), I accidentally changed the size of everything by being a big dufus and holding down the Ctrl key while scrolling with the mouse. MAJOR idiot moment. Not realizing that is what I had done, I closed out of the spot and went to my In box. I'm thinking, "Why does this look so weird? What happened to the size of my stuff?"
Now I have to adjust the size of everything EVERY time I look at something. Everything is wonky! I absolutely hate this! I am especially unhappy because I can't fix it so that everything looks like it did before without having to adjust the size every time I go into something. If the print looks right, then the "buttons" or links look off. If the buttons look right, then the print is too small. ARGGGGG!!
I don't suppose any of you wonderful people out there would know how to fix it so that it goes back to the way it is before I totally screwed it up....
Now I have to adjust the size of everything EVERY time I look at something. Everything is wonky! I absolutely hate this! I am especially unhappy because I can't fix it so that everything looks like it did before without having to adjust the size every time I go into something. If the print looks right, then the "buttons" or links look off. If the buttons look right, then the print is too small. ARGGGGG!!
I don't suppose any of you wonderful people out there would know how to fix it so that it goes back to the way it is before I totally screwed it up....
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Watermelon Patch
I love this painting. I don't know who did it or remember where I found it, but I use it as "wallpaper" on my computer. Can't you almost smell that summer air?!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Recipe
I get a newsletter from the South Beach Diet people and I thought this sounds SO good that I thought I would share.
Daily Dish
A Delicious Cheese-Stuffed Burger
Kick off summer with this irresistible, cheese-stuffed burger. Bursting with melted cheese and savory pesto, serve this luscious and lean burger at your next family cookout or neighborhood block party.
Stuffed Pork Burger (Phase 1)
Description
These juicy, pesto-flavored burgers come with a delicious melted mozzarella surprise inside! Top them with lettuce and a slice of fresh juicy tomato if you’d like — or just enjoy them as is.
Serves 4
Ingredients
5 tablespoons pesto (from a jar)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 pounds lean ground pork
2 ounces low-fat mozzarella, cut into 4 cubes
Instructions
Stir together pesto, salt, and pepper in a medium mixing bowl. Add pork and, using your hands, gently yet thoroughly combine; do not overmix.
Shape pork mixture into 4 equal-sized balls. Press 1 mozzarella cube into the center of each ball; gently form a 3/4"-thick patty; enclosing the cheese.
Lightly coat a large nonstick skillet with cooking spray. Heat over medium-high heat. Add burgers, cooking in batches if necessary, reduce heat to medium, and cook 5 minutes per side.
Serve hot.
Nutritional information:
380 calories
22 g fat (7 g sat)
1 g carbohydrate
42 g protein
0 g dietary fiber
620 mg sodium
Daily Dish
A Delicious Cheese-Stuffed Burger
Kick off summer with this irresistible, cheese-stuffed burger. Bursting with melted cheese and savory pesto, serve this luscious and lean burger at your next family cookout or neighborhood block party.
Stuffed Pork Burger (Phase 1)
Description
These juicy, pesto-flavored burgers come with a delicious melted mozzarella surprise inside! Top them with lettuce and a slice of fresh juicy tomato if you’d like — or just enjoy them as is.
Serves 4
Ingredients
5 tablespoons pesto (from a jar)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 pounds lean ground pork
2 ounces low-fat mozzarella, cut into 4 cubes
Instructions
Stir together pesto, salt, and pepper in a medium mixing bowl. Add pork and, using your hands, gently yet thoroughly combine; do not overmix.
Shape pork mixture into 4 equal-sized balls. Press 1 mozzarella cube into the center of each ball; gently form a 3/4"-thick patty; enclosing the cheese.
Lightly coat a large nonstick skillet with cooking spray. Heat over medium-high heat. Add burgers, cooking in batches if necessary, reduce heat to medium, and cook 5 minutes per side.
Serve hot.
Nutritional information:
380 calories
22 g fat (7 g sat)
1 g carbohydrate
42 g protein
0 g dietary fiber
620 mg sodium
Monday, June 15, 2009
Make Mine Freedom!
I think everyone should see this. It is about 50 years old. Think about what it is telling you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nolcHeQspVk
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nolcHeQspVk
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Crafters Choice
I belong to a club called Crafters Choice. I have bought many things from them over the years. Software; books on gardening, getting rid of clutter (like THAT's going to happen), building 2 x 4 projects, and birds to name just a few; special pens; tools for engraving identifying marks on possessions. But a book caught my eye last month that took me back to about age 7 or so. So I had to have it. It came today. It's called "The Kitchen Linens Book" by EllynAnne Geisel. She also is the author of "The Apron Book."
This is a book about beautifully embroidered and embellished table linens, napkins, breakfast cloths, dish towels, sheets, pillow cases, etc. And the pattern on the front of the book was one that I had done on a set of kitchen linens for a lady friend of my Mom's. When I was about 7. I used to be really good at embroidery. Got paid money to do it. At a very young age. And now... I couldn't embroider if I tried. Isn't that a shame?
Of course, now I couldn't see to do those tiny stitches. And the hands would rebel even if I could see to do them. And I don't iron anymore unless it's a dire necessity. And the iron is a steam iron. Wonderful invention, that.
The young people today don't want to do things like that because you have to iron everything. And it takes time... and patience... But what a lovely, lovely art.
I can remember Mom and I sitting together working on our embroidery. She used to take in ironing to make money, too. I can remember helping her. I stood on a milk crate so that I could reach the ironing board. No steam iron there. You had to use a sprinkle bottle with a stopper in it that had holes for the water to sprinkle the laundry so you could iron the wrinkles out of it. Usually it was a Coca Cola bottle. Just the right size. We used to even iron sheets, pillow cases and towels. Some people even had us iron socks! I can remember sprinkling clothes and then rolling them up and putting them in a plastic bag and putting them in the ice box. Yep. Ice box. Not fridge. Ice box.
For just one minute, while telling this tale, I could see my Mom once again. She has been gone for many years, but for just one minute.... I could almost touch her.
This is a book about beautifully embroidered and embellished table linens, napkins, breakfast cloths, dish towels, sheets, pillow cases, etc. And the pattern on the front of the book was one that I had done on a set of kitchen linens for a lady friend of my Mom's. When I was about 7. I used to be really good at embroidery. Got paid money to do it. At a very young age. And now... I couldn't embroider if I tried. Isn't that a shame?
Of course, now I couldn't see to do those tiny stitches. And the hands would rebel even if I could see to do them. And I don't iron anymore unless it's a dire necessity. And the iron is a steam iron. Wonderful invention, that.
The young people today don't want to do things like that because you have to iron everything. And it takes time... and patience... But what a lovely, lovely art.
I can remember Mom and I sitting together working on our embroidery. She used to take in ironing to make money, too. I can remember helping her. I stood on a milk crate so that I could reach the ironing board. No steam iron there. You had to use a sprinkle bottle with a stopper in it that had holes for the water to sprinkle the laundry so you could iron the wrinkles out of it. Usually it was a Coca Cola bottle. Just the right size. We used to even iron sheets, pillow cases and towels. Some people even had us iron socks! I can remember sprinkling clothes and then rolling them up and putting them in a plastic bag and putting them in the ice box. Yep. Ice box. Not fridge. Ice box.
For just one minute, while telling this tale, I could see my Mom once again. She has been gone for many years, but for just one minute.... I could almost touch her.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Recipe
I got this from my Bronner's Newsletter. It sounds so good I thought I should share!
Bronner’s Flavorful Favorites
We thought you might like to try one of the recipes from Bronner’s second staff cookbook, “Bronner’s Flavorful Favorites, Book 2.” The cookbook features over 400 recipes submitted by Bronner’s staff and is available online or in-store for $14.99, as is Book 1.
BLT Pasta Saladsubmitted by Denise Rulason
1 (8-oz.) pkg. elbow macaroni, cooked and drained
8 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled
1 c. mayonnaise or salad dressing
1/3 c. chili sauce
¼ c. lemon juice, from concentrate
2 tsp. instant chicken bouillon
2 tsp. sugar
1 large tomato, seeded and chopped
¼ c. green onions, sliced
2 cups lettuce shredded
In a large bowl combine mayonnaise or salad dressing, chili sauce, lemon juice, bouillon and sugar. Stir in macaroni, tomato and onions. Cover and chill. Just before serving, stir in lettuce, green onions and bacon. Refrigerate leftovers. Makes 8 servings
Enjoy!
Bronner’s Flavorful Favorites
We thought you might like to try one of the recipes from Bronner’s second staff cookbook, “Bronner’s Flavorful Favorites, Book 2.” The cookbook features over 400 recipes submitted by Bronner’s staff and is available online or in-store for $14.99, as is Book 1.
BLT Pasta Saladsubmitted by Denise Rulason
1 (8-oz.) pkg. elbow macaroni, cooked and drained
8 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled
1 c. mayonnaise or salad dressing
1/3 c. chili sauce
¼ c. lemon juice, from concentrate
2 tsp. instant chicken bouillon
2 tsp. sugar
1 large tomato, seeded and chopped
¼ c. green onions, sliced
2 cups lettuce shredded
In a large bowl combine mayonnaise or salad dressing, chili sauce, lemon juice, bouillon and sugar. Stir in macaroni, tomato and onions. Cover and chill. Just before serving, stir in lettuce, green onions and bacon. Refrigerate leftovers. Makes 8 servings
Enjoy!
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Hello, Again!
Well, I am up but not for long. Surgery went well. I should start feeling more "up-to-snuff" by tomorrow!
Hugs to all!
Hugs to all!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Hello!
I may be out of commission for a short while. Today I am having gall bladder surgery. I wasn't going to say anything and just schedule posts, but I thought you might want to know. If you see a post for tomorrow, you will know that I'm doing better than I anticipate!
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