Category Archives: Facebook

Facebook, Community, Baking, Lifestyle, Curiosity, Google, gardening

The Latest Question

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Is rhubarb a fruit or a vegetable?

This is what my brain started to wonder about a couple of weeks ago.

The visual from my yard that prompted this initial question:

This is one bush? Or is it simply called a plant?

I’m proud to say that while I was tempted to say it’s a fruit (based on my association of rhubarb to sweet baked goods), just before I clicked enter when I put that question into Google search, I thought “no, it’s a vegetable”. I think it’s because it grows in the ground.

It’s not uncommon for a question answered to lead to another question, which is what happened next.

Because of course, I have no idea what to do with it. I fancy myself a maven of the kitchen, but rhubarb is not something that has ever been in my repertoire. My vague recollection of rhubarb, as I don’t think Bonnie (my mom) grew it in her backyard garden, is that it’s not pleasant to eat raw. That must have been someone else’s garden. It tasted like sour celery. I do have memories, however, of enjoying it baked in cake or muffins.

So, I proceeded on a quest for “best practices” for all things rhubarb. My walking buddy/neighbor, who is far more knowledgeable than I of all things gardening, told me last week that I ought to be picking it within the next couple of weeks.

Time was of the essence, and because I think it’s more fun to crowd- source certain questions than it is to Google it out, I turned to Facebook.

I learned that cutting the stalks is a no-no. Doing so prevents it from growing back next year. I was told by many to not eat the leaves as they are poisonous (not like it would occur to me to eat them in the first place). Freezing the cut-up stalks was a common piece of advice, which I will be following. My Facebook friends were enthusiastic about strawberry rhubarb jam and pies too.

One response was via DM from a friend from our old neighborhood in La Crosse. She had just pulled her rhubarb stalks out of her garden and was in the process of cooking them down with water and sugar to make sauce when she happened upon my query on Facebook. She told me she freezes the sauce to pour over ice cream, yogurt, or cake in the winter months. She also shared that she makes a “mean” rhubarb gin and tequila. I’m not a gin fan, but that sure sounds like a creative use for this vegetable doesn’t it?

I also perused Bonnie’s recipe box and found a few different recipes for cake, muffins, and pie. I love seeing her handwriting on these cards. It conjures up her voice for me, which is bittersweet. Kind of like rhubarb, I suppose.

The surprise bonus for me was the anecdotal information Bonnie provided on some of the recipe cards. The “Mom” in the recipe referred to as “Mom’s Wonderful Rhubarb Cake” was Bonnie’s mom, my Grandma Pearl. I gathered this from Bonnie writing “just super good and mom doesn’t esp. like rhubarb”. Another recipe card I found among the rhubarb recipes in Bonnie’s recipe box was for orange bread. She noted at the top of the card “Dad’s”. That would be her dad, my Grandpa Fritz.

I’m thinking rhubarb sauce would be quite delicious drizzled on top of this orange bread. I’ll report back once I’ve tried making it.

Facebook, Humor, Life, Sarcasm, Work

Pooping at Work

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One of my Facebook friends posted about a “genius” idea they learned about: “pooping shoes”.

These are shoes you change into at work prior to using the facilities to, you know, take a dump.

My Facebook friend was in the camp of people who nevereverever poop at work. They find it abhorrent when others do. They have a poop schedule to which they adhere. If their schedule is somehow off and they have no choice but to poop mid-day, they would hop in their car, drive home, do their “doody” and come back to the office.

This Facebook friend of mine also shared that they are grateful that at this point in their career, they work from home. No special shoes needed to poop there.

Yet, if they did still have to work in the office amongst other people, they’d have a special pair of shoes hidden in a drawer…just in case.

Or maybe they’d be like Zahid from the Netflix show “Atypical”.

Thoughts on this?

Here’s mine:

Who really takes the time to peer under the bathroom stalls and register exactly who is using the shitter? Weirdos, that’s who.

Now, a quick glance just to ascertain if there is someone in the stall, to prevent oneself from attempting to gain entrance-that’s normal.

If one were to change their shoes at their work station, then make the trek to the restroom, wouldn’t there be a decent chance that someone would notice the change in footwear? And furthermore, would there not also be a chance that the one who noticed the new shoes would also need to use the facilities approximately 20 seconds after one has plopped their ass onto the porcelain throne?

Because I’m pretty sure that would happen to me.

I’m just not that smooth. Or that sneaky. I’d change my shoes, then on the way to the toilet, I’d be distracted by a client in need of something or a co-worker with a question. Someone, no doubt, would take notice of my new shoes and perhaps ask why I changed shoes. Shit (ha ha), then I’d have to come up with a believable lie, like “these are more comfortable”. Then I’d have to wear my “pooping shoes” for the rest of the day, hence resulting in a need to find a new pair of “pooping shoes” to bring into work the next day.

It’d become a whole ridiculous fucking thing.

Instead, I’ll continue to be grateful for the fact that I do have a pretty consistent “poop schedule” (every morning after my first cup of coffee, in case you wondered). And if I simply must poop at work, I will flush first; right at the moment I am certain that those unholy sounds are about to start coming out of my tushy. Then, if someone else enters the stall next to me, I will finish up, wait it out until the coast is clear and then disembark from the toilet seat.

And if someone else is pooping when I’m peeing in the stall next to them, I will speed things up, wash my hands according to the instructional sign hanging by the mirror, and make a quick exit to give that person some space and some respect.

Because the fact of the matter, is we all poop. That is what toilets are for. Even the ones at work.

Entertainment, Facebook, Gems, Inspiration, Lifestyle, Positivity, Sharing, Storytelling

Hometown Gem

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Her name is Stephanie Himango and this is, ironically, the second time I’ve written about her in my life.

Stephanie and I both grew up in the small town of Two Harbors, Minnesota. She was two years below me in school. For that reason and the fact that she was sporty and I was most certainly not, we did not have any real interaction with each other. As far as I can remember anyway (this was like 35 years ago, folks).

As a senior at our long ago demolished high school that sat atop a hill, I was co-editor of the school newspaper. That extra-curricular sparked a passion in me for creating something out of nothing. A passion for written communication. One of my pieces then was about Homecoming. And in that piece I reported that Stephanie, as a sophomore, was in the Homecoming Court. I came upon that long forgotten factoid about a month ago when I was searching through a box of memorabilia, hoping to find pictures of Christmases past.

The reason I mention any of this at all is because in the summer of 2020 she accepted my friend request on Facebook. I had been made aware through mutual friends that over the years that Stephanie had made quite a name for herself career-wise. That she had a long career in the news industry, even winning a couple of Emmys as a writer and producer. She is also a published author.

Shortly after we became Facebook friends, Stephanie announced on social media that she was beginning her first ever podcast, entitled “Another Door Opens with Stephanie Himango”.

Stephanie promoted her podcast as being one in which she would interview a wide array of people from varying backgrounds to share their stories of overcoming life’s struggles and what, and as she says in each episode, “if anything”, the phrase “Another Door Opens” means to them personally. As if anyone she would interview would actually say that phrase means nothing to them! But that little qualifier exemplifies to me the genuine respect she has for her interviewees. She does not make any assumptions about them. She asks interesting questions and her enjoyment of asking them comes across through her voice as real and true.

So, as you can clearly see, I subscribed to Stephanie’s podcast. Stephanie interviewed everyone from a man who works as a sketch artist at SCOTUS to a veterinarian who treats pets of those experiencing homelessness to a woman who owns and runs her family’s pumpkin farm and much more. After listening to all of the episodes via Spotify (as of last week), I can tell you I’ve learned so much. I’ve been inspired. I’ve laughed. My eyes have been opened up about all the good stuff that people are out there doing with their lives. Kind of like David Byrne from the Talking Heads, who I wrote about here. Listening to Stephanie’s podcast brightened my days in the bananas year that was 2020.

Thanks for that, Stephanie. You are a Gem and I look forward to listening and learning from your podcast in the New Year. Maybe someday if we happen to be in our sweet little hometown (which in my opinion is home to lots of other interesting and inspiring people-maybe it’s something about that perfectly ice cold tap wonder we drank, courtesy of Lake Superior) at the same time, we will bump into each other. That’d be cool.

I encourage all of you reading this to check out “Another Door Opens with Stephanie Himango” and listen, learn and gain inspiration along with me.

I’ve no idea who this pretty young girl is, but I love the beautiful pictures of my home state and remember this song from my youth. Dontcha love the sound of the loons? The Minnesota state bird!
Anxiety, Blogging, Books, Creative Writing, Facebook, Humor, Irony, Life, Middle Age, Self-Reflection, Storytelling

Alphabet Soup Challenge: I is for Indecisiveness

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I have an almost finished post about how “I” is for “Investment”. It’s about how I’ve been trying to do a better job of investing in myself. Using my time, emotional, physical, and spiritual energy to improve myself.

Investing in myself translates to intentionally going out for walks most mornings, which gives me a lift and helps to collect my thoughts about the day ahead. This investment also includes talk therapy via telephone with a behavioral health counselor. As well as doing more personal journaling and intentionally consuming entertainment that gives me the good feels. I’m feeling better about myself these days. That’s the gist of it.

The it occurred to me that dedicating an entire post to how I, as a privileged white upper-middle aged woman, was “investing” in myself was a bit too much. Too self involved.

That’s when the anxiety I experience on the daily crept into my brain and manifested itself into another “I” word of which I am quite familiar: “indecisiveness”. Because now what “I ” word am I going to pontificate about? There’s so many choices, I can’t possibly decide on which one.

There’s “irony”, which I have a little story about. I mentioned in a recent post how I was reading “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle in which I found some pearls of wisdom that resonated with me. Well, I finished that book several weeks ago. In one of the two all female Facebook groups I belong to, one of the admins posted a picture of herself looking all cute and holding up “Untamed”, notifying us that there was going to be a Facebook live video discussion of the book on Wednesday night at 6:30 p.m. In a moment of impulsivity, I replied that I would plan on attending.

I had been thinking for a while that I wanted to gain more experience with using video communication, both with friends and family, but also with people that I only know online, not IRL as they say. Zoom and Facebook Live are the tools du jour in the age of Covid-19, and I suspect that will only grow just like the amount of time we will be compelled to stick close to home.

Wednesday rolled around. I remembered about this “happening” about 5:30 p.m., after imbibing in a couple of cocktails. Supper wasn’t quite ready. Kid #2 was out at the local Hookah bar and about to come home soon. I was anticipating Kid #1 calling me at any time based on a message she had sent me earlier in the day. I had taken all my make up off, revealing just how “53” I looked. I hemmed and hawed, thinking about putting on some makeup, fluffing up my hair, grabbing “Untamed” and just doing it anyway.

Then Kid #2 came in the door, greeted by a very happy Radar-ling and his slinky sidekick Karl the cockeyed cat. I felt happy. Relaxed. I let myself off the hook and decided “Nah”.

After having intermittent pangs of guilt mixed with a side of regret about flaking out on this experience throughout that evening and into the next morning, I checked Facebook and learned that the admin hadn’t been feeling well the night before so she cancelled the event. Whew!

Now that’s irony. All that worry for nothing. Ha!

I am very tempted to continue this post with anecdotes on other “I” words that I have a lot to say about like “imagination”, “inspiration”, and “intention”.

However, I’m going to instead head on back to my “A-Z” draft folder and work through my indecisiveness surrounding the remaining letters of the alphabet I have to write about to complete this self-imposed challenge.

And leave you with one of my favorite Alanis Morrisette tunes.

**Header image courtesy of http://www.uniquelyandbrilliantlyadorned.com/2015/10/lets-talk-about-indecisiveness.html

Alphabet Soup Challenge, Art, Birthdays, Death, Facebook, Friends, Inspiration, Life, Music, Parenthood, Spirituality

Alphabet Soup Challenge:”J” is for Jerilyn

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August 17th would have been my friend Jerilyn’s 60th birthday. She passed, suddenly and unexpectedly, in Wisconsin, shortly after Hubs and I moved to Colorado, 4 years ago.

She left behind her husband of 25+ years, 2 young adult sons.

Jerilyn, ready to start volunteering at a food bank during a mission trip, circa 2007 ish

I was reminded of her birthday when I checked Facebook that day. Some may feel it’s morbid to keep someone’s Facebook page alive after they have passed, but I don’t. It warmed my heart to see all the comments from the many folks who loved her.

I think we should all strive to touch people’s lives in a way that they can’t help but honor them in some way on the anniversary of their births after they are gone. Like I saw with the feed on Jerilyn’s Facebook page the other night.

Jerilyn was a creative, intelligent, witty, kind, spiritual, playful, ambitious, loving, charasmatic, and strong woman. She was a force of nature who lit up a room. I will never forget her. I was so appreciative of her supportive words when Hubs and I were struggling with the challenges our teenagers presented us with. She was a great sounding board for us, especially because she had taken the time to know us and to know and love our kids.

Jerilyn was one of those people with the rare ability to question one’s thinking in a loving and respectful manner. I think that was due to her great sense of curiosity.

She and her husband Brad were the most dynamic of duos. They were the people at the party who you sought out to converse with. The couple who knew how to laugh together, work together, and play together.

One of my fondest memories of the two of them was at an outdoor concert. That weekend we were celebrating our wedding anniversary and I seem to recall theirs was coming up soon as well. When the 80’s cover band played George Michael’s “Freedom” the four of us laughed and danced like we were the only ones at the party. I think if Heaven is real, she’d be dancing on the clouds with George Michael to this song. Along with David Bowie, of course.

The woman had fabulous taste in music. She loved many of the artists that I did (and still do), like Elle King, Alicia Keys, and the aforementioned British gents.

Jerilyn was the Director of Christian Education at our church during our kids middle school and high school years. She loved each of those kids and they loved her. She listened to them without judgement. She mentored them and guided them. She was a talented planner of things such as youth mission trips. She had terrific communication skills with both the adult chaperones and the kids, so everyone understood what was expected of them.

Jerilyn was a very talented artist, on top of her many gifts. As a person who essentially has two thumbs when it comes to creating tangible pieces of art, I admired/envied this about her. She did a lot of tapestry art. Beautiful works made with colorful pieces of different textured cloth and other materials that could be hung prominently on a wall.

I had this vision in my head that I would commission her to create a work of art using the well-worn but still beautiful hand-made quilt made by Hubs’ then-boss’ wife as a wedding gift. I know she would have done a spectacular job with it. I kick myself for not jumping on that idea while I had the chance.

I took this picture at a gift shop in Minnesota a couple of years ago because it reminded me of her. I thought it was amazing that there was another “Jerilyn” who created beautiful pieces of art using cloth. I think our Jerilyn would have gotten a kick out of this too.

There’s so much more I could say about this truly awesome human being. She was a treasure and my life is better because she was in it. For that I am so thankful.

Facebook, Female Empowerment, Feminism, Humor, Life, Lifestyle, Women

What don’t you do?

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A few weeks ago, I joined a new Facebook group. I’m not calling it out by name because many of the things said in this group are quite personal and I want to respect that. I’m even going to avoid giving the basic stats of who is in this group, as a matter of fact.
So in this group, there was a thread I found really interesting. It was prompted by this post. I enjoyed following the thread that ensued and started thinking about the specific things I myself don’t do. It was a challenge for me, as I’ve been so focused these days about what I “do” do (and writing blog posts about that). So I decided to mix things up a bit for today’s post.
Here’s what I came up with:
Things I don’t do (that I’m probably supposed to, according to societal norms of white Gen X ish middle aged females, with a few random “dont’s”mixed in for shits and giggles):
  • I don’t exercise on purpose.
  • I don’t get manicures.
  • I don’t clip coupons.
  • I don’t sew. That’s Hubs’ forte.
  • I don’t clean up dog puke. Again, Hubs’ forte.
  • I don’t have my work email linked to my cell phone.
  • I don’t have my very own car to drive. Hubs and I share one and I’m cool with that.
  • I don’t put a strict limit on my daily carb intake.
  • I don’t scrapbook.
  • I don’t wear Spanx.
  • I don’t drink decaf. Fully loaded, dark roasted coffee is my jam.
  • I don’t cook foods for my loved ones that I don’t like to eat.
  • I don’t poop in the presence of Hubs.
  • I don’t (and won’t) throw my family members or friends “under the bus” with my blog posts. They deserve my loyalty and respect.

Now, you may have noticed that there is little explaining on my above list. That’s because I think it’s a shame that we, as women in this world, due to largely manufactured societal pressures which are reinforced in a bajillion ways on the daily (the “perfect” photos of your Facebook friends, commercials on t.v., magazine articles, etc.), feel guilty for not doing the things we’re “supposed” to do. I think we need to cut that shit out. Who’s with me?

For the love of God, people, please add a few of your “dont’s” in the comments!

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Blogging, Body image, Childhood, Creative Writing, Employment, Facebook, Humor

Random Ramblings

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Just a few, unrelated and utterly irrelevant thoughts I have had recently….

I’m kind of a sucker for those sites that post decadent dessert recipes on Facebook. It infuriates me, however, when “Easy” is in the title, however. Thing is, if I’m going to make and then of course consume said dessert, it is not in my belly fat’s best interest for it to be “easy” to make. The recipe should include ingredients you have to work for, like a specific kind of berry only found on the top of the Rocky Mountains. Or honey that has to be tapped from a specific maple tree located deep in the forest. Or corn meal that you have to grind yourself.

I might want to grow my hair out and see how long it can get. This notion was inspired by seeing Megan Mullally’s beautiful hair while watching Summer of 69, the big hearted and smartly hilarious comedy show she and her husband Nick Offerman created. Also, she played the ukulele during the show so now I want to do that too.

I love Pinterest but recognize that it can be a black hole. Or like the kettle corn I can’t seem to get enough of, despite feeling sick to my stomach and hyped up at the same time. Or like when my cousin and I, as kids,  would spend hours upon hours gazing through the JC Penney Christmas catalog with calculators in hand, pretend shopping for things we wanted to buy.

Hubs recently shared that he had to “drain the lizard”. As in, he had to pee. Use the lavatory (wasn’t that weird how the bathrooms in school were called this back in the day? Such a weird, unused word today). Hubs told me this was one of his favorite euphemisms. I prefer when he tells me (seriously, even in public) that he has to “go potty”. Weird, right? But I find it endearing. It reminds me that he was once the daddy to our no longer little spawn, and our charming 3 year old grandson. The daddy and “Papa” who said/says “make sure to go potty before you get in the car” and “do you need me to take you to go potty now?”

One goal I have in life is to be able to sing through the entirety of  R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World”. While undoubtedly frenetically paced, this is a classic song, amiright?And once I’ve accomplished that goal, I should easily be able to get work as an auctioneer. Maybe I could add that to the list of possibilities for my job search.

 

bloggingfundamentals, Facebook, Humor, Laughter

Facebook has my back

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I am a big fat sucker for those inane personality tests on Facebook. I am surely not alone in this. Otherwise, those smarty pants techno wizards behind Facebook would not continue to come up with them. Loads of suckers are out there, just like me, simply dying to know what color their “aura” is (mine is pink. I am certain you needed to know that).

So I am nearing a point in my “gap year” (that one year when you have graduated from school-or in my case, my job as a social worker, and you have all these big great life altering ideas and you spend far too much time reading, blogging, gorging on MSNBC, drinking craft beer, watching Seinfeld reruns and taking important Facebook tests), where actual paid employment is quickly becoming something that I best achieve, if for no other reason than I simply must have more financial resources to start seriously knocking off some items off my travel bucket list.

So, that said, what if I turned all of that flipping valuable knowledge of myself gleaned through these perfectly scientifically based Facebook personality tests into the most EPIC cover letter or resume for the job I will obviously get?

It might look something like this:

Dear future employer (see how confident I am? I am telling THEM that they will be my employer. Turning those tables around. Go me!),

Hi, my name is Rhonda and I’m pretty awesome (bam! did it again). Facebook has assured me of this, and as you know, Facebook is the. Ultimate. Authority. On. Everything.

First off, let’s be clear that I shall not work for your organization/company/publication past the age of 61, because Facebook told me that is the age at which I will retire. That gives you 11 years of my personal awesomeness, thankyouverymuch. At the age of 61, my assets will be no less than 98 million U.S. dollars. Facebook is certain that I will amass $66,999 per month. I’m no mathematician (though I’m sure there’s an app for that), but I think it’s safe to assume that making $66,999 per month will equal to at least 98 million bucks by the time I’m ready to say “take this job and shove it” and drive my Bugatti

Here’s my future ride-the Bugatti. Thanks Facebook! You’re the best.

over to my country villa with my 7 dogs). Facebook really gets me. Thank the good Lord someone does. Sheesh.

I would be remiss to neglect mentioning what it is exactly that I can offer you as your next employee (see-did it again-I’m on a flipping role here). I have it on very good authority (Facebook, duh!) that my IQ is 198. So I’m basically a genius. And my EQ (emotional intelligence-not sure why Facebook uses a Q instead of an I here, but I can overlook this one small error) is 179. And not only that, I am 193% precise. Precise at what you ask? I may have to do another Facebook test for that, but it’s probably safe to assume I am precise at doing doctorly things like open heart surgery, circumcisions, and popping blackheads. Because the job that most suits me is being a Doctor, according to official sources at Facebook.

Heads up dear bosses-I require a minimum of 88 days of per year, not including weekends, holidays, birthdays (mine, family members, and all my Facebook friends or course), and sick days (even doctors get sick sometimes), to allow me the time required to write my autobiography entitled “How I learned to Dance in the Rain”. I have to credit the geniuses of Facebook for coming up with this title. Somehow they learned of my tremendous dancing skills and that I know a lot about rain because I married a meteorologist. Damn they’re good.

Elaine Benes, my dancing idol

In conclusion, I’d like to point out that if you make the poor choice of not hiring me right now, I am 99% Bitch. Actually, to be more specific, I am the Queen Bitch. That means, according to the psychics at Facebook, that I always get what I want because I go after it 100%. And obvs, no one messes with me as a result. You’ve been warned.

See you next Monday at the office!

You’re welcome,

Pollyanna