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Addiction.

So in between Superbowl commercials I’ve been watching the game a little bit (usually when Earl yells at the television) but I’ve also been spending the evening playing with Facebook. I swore I would never get addicted to Facebook but I’m finding myself looking up people I haven’t talked to in a couple of decades.

For example, I just sent a message to my first grade teacher. Sure, I haven’t seen her in 35 years or so but there she was on Facebook, over a thousand miles from my hometown but with the same maiden and married name. She was easy to find.

My first grade teacher was the prettiest of my elementary school teachers and had picture perfect handwriting. I remember her being very kind and very patient. She also let us do fun things, such as crank up “Rubberneckin'” by Elvis Presley on the record player usually reserved for “Free To Be You and Me”. I liked her a lot. I told her so in my message today. She probably thinks I’m a freak. I even liked her when she put my name on the “No Play” list on the blackboard for talking too much in class. I didn’t mention that in the message today but I remember the event like it was yesterday.

The other teacher I decided to look up was my second grade teacher, but she isn’t on Facebook. Though my first grade teacher was the prettiest, my second grade teacher was my favorite, probably for my entire school career, for she was the one teacher that “got me”. She didn’t force me to play football with the other boys (I was content to watch), she let me have a disorganised desk and she allowed me to indulge myself in my curious ways about technology; I was the only one in my class that was allowed to run both the Bell and Howell AND the Singer movie projectors and she let me sit in the principal’s office when the repairman from Johnson Controls came to fix the broken master clock which was preventing the classroom clocks and bells from working. Mrs. Hayden was neat.

Yes, I have spent the evening searching and reading throughout Facebook. Of course, there’s this whole big football game going on too, but I’m content to just watch it without screaming.

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Superbowl Supper.



Superbowl Supper., originally uploaded by iMachias.

Because my husbear is a galloping gourmet, I thought I’d share our Superbowl Supper. That’s “pulled turkey” with asparagus, roasted yams and crackers with cranberry bruchetta.

Grandma Wegman helped out with the yams and the bruchetta.

Creative Leftovers.

Right on schedule, the “mid-winter blahs” made an appearance in my psyche today. I try really hard to fight the annual onset of the blues but sometimes I feel like it’s getting the best of me. To remedy the situation, I gathered up all the returnable pop and beer bottles and took them to the market and then browsed the “Nature’s Way” department, looking for a natural alternative to the crap offered elsewhere on the shelves. The sun peeked out on the ride home, so I took the long way and felt considerably better when I got home.

It’s the classic symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I need to buy one of those light boxes to get an apparently urgent dose of sun-like light.

Earl and I are headed to the House of the Mouse two weeks from today and I’m sure that’ll improve the situation greatly.

When I got home from the market, Earl presented me a tasty salad for lunch, using last night’s leftovers of baked chicken and pasta. He adds roasted red peppers to a good share of his dishes and I must say I always enjoy the added flavour.



Creative Leftovers., originally uploaded by iMachias.