Sunday, June 10, 2007

Bye-bye Blog

Dear Minka, Theresa, Quilly and Wanda, I love you ladies and have enjoyed our chit-chats. I'm leaving Blogsville. Thank you for making me feel welcome. I wish happy days ahead for you all. Most of my hobbies seem to last four or five months and then I go on to something else. I really feel those stained glass side lights, for the front door, are calling me. It's a six month project, so I'll maybe get 5/6th of them done before I quit that (kidding).

To everyone who dropped by , "Thanks". Bye-bye.............Judy

Friday, June 8, 2007


Oops!.......I forgot something at the end of the last post........................................................
:) :-) :) :-) :) :-) :) :-) :) :-)

Thursday, June 7, 2007

DON'T FORGET TO................

This is not a time of life when I thought I'd still be learning new things. I imagine, it's because I have forgotten so much, that I now have room for more. Sure, it's a cliche. But, when it hits you between the eyes, (ya, the frontal lobe area) that a lot of new info is being packed into your brain..........aren't you going to ask yourself, "How does all that fit in there?"? Of course something had to come out to make room for new stuff. You don't become aware of this knowledge until the second download. That occurs sometime after 55 or 60 years of age.

From the outside, other people see just the old stuff being forgotten. Well, they're not alone. I also wondered how that half eaten slice of bread (slathered in butter) got between the folded towels in the linen closet. And it's still a mystery to me how my six year old great-nephew was sent the e-mail telling what I bought him for his birthday, and, his Mom, my niece got the e-mail asking HIM what he would like for a gift. But, that turned out O.K. His Mom said she will take the theatre tickets and I can get him a diamond ring. Oh, they'll work it out in the end......If my brother and sister-in-law get an anniversary card on his birthday, and a birthday card goes to their son on their anniversary, it's fine. Two special occasions and two cards. Perfect!

I don't really mind forgetting where household things belong. It's often a nice little surprise to find a bag of marshmellows already melted, in the oven, when I just decided to make crispy squares. But, I was really snarked when the popsicles were there too.

There are some things we should, with G-G-Garfield's grace, never forget. Our elderly neighbour was standing outside talking to his own son and my Hubby. He looked at my husband and asked, "Whose your friend?" Now that's just rude! And did you ever wonder why Gramma keeps all those photos on the fridge? They're put there for identification purposes. I'll check the neighbours fridge, if I don't forget. Maybe they have mixed up the pictures.

The best part you forget the dumb stuff and replaced it with BLOGGING names. The next best thing is, the youngsters (thirty and forty- somethings) don't know it's coming, ha-ha-ha, so we are one up on the kids. It actually IS possible that we have forgotten more than they have ever learned. Makes us REALLY feel that wisedom has come with age. There's lots more to be written on this subject and when I remember it, I'll pass it on to you.

Tuesday, June 5, 2007


A few years ago, my wonderful parents bought me a bread making machine. Years before that, I made bread many times from scratch just for the joy of it and for that wholesome yeasty smell that comes with homemade bread. I slowed down to a stop when I forgot to add the melted butter one time, and attempted to add it at the end. The dough was formed and I was trying to squeeze liquid grease into a glue ball. When I threw the whole batch into the garbage, I looked like the Michelin Lady with white walls. (Recently that was brought to mind by Theresa's Therm-m-m-mo-what's-it. I bet she looks better and isn't covered in white goo when that superlicious cheesecake is finished.) Time to get that bread machine out of the "hardly ever use it" cupboard. It's only been two years; I should have put it in the "use occasionally" cupboard.

Bend. . . .pull. . . .bend some more. . . . twist. . . .I didn't realize I was so far out of shape, that getting an appliance from the back of a bottom cabinet would be a work-out. Guess I should put my "hardly ever use it" cupboard in a more convenient spot. I might want to use that food processor paraphernalia in there some time.

Wouldn't you think the recipe book for the machine would be either with the recipe books or with the bread machine? After the last bread making fiasco, I was probably feeling a little frazzled and illogical. What do you think of when you can't find a recipe? Of course, Martha Stewart and computer. Well, I found out Martha doesn't have a recipe for EVERYTHING. What was I thinking? Using a bread maker would be like opening a can of spaghetti-o's for dinner, to Martha.....a definite, "No-no." I'm sure she doesn't even own a can opener.

I was on the fifteenth page of "Every Recipe in the Civilized World" website when I found ONE I could use in my West Bend machine. Sure sounded familiar. It was a, "Go." Measure accurately it warned. Do they think home co-ordinators are idiots? I know how to measure. A warm and fuzzy feeling came over me as I placed all ingredients into the pan and lowered and locked it into position in the machine. It would be ready in 3 hours and 10 minutes. I had clothes to fold, blah-blah-blah, and a draft for a future blog to write............................Two and a half hours later, Hubby says, "Is the dough supposed to be touching the window at the top of the machine?" "Oh, yes! It puffs up beautifully because of the yeast." says the Master Bread Maker. "Is it supposed to be smashed up against the window and forcing the door to open?" OMG! It looked like a small mushroom cloud had formed after a dough bomb had exploded. The mixture had risen over the pan edges and continued up and up some more until it looked like a giant's nose smushed (yes, smushed...flattened...SMUSHED) against a window pane. A very pale giant's nose. After a flurry of pot holders, knives, wooden spoons and burned fingers, the (to be kind) "loaf" lay on the counter. But, not undamaged, because it had taken over five minutes of cutting, scrapping and man-handling to force it out of the hot, very hot pan. After hacking off the top gluey one-third, the baked two-thirds at the bottom looked, well, not like something you'd buy at the bakery, but of a quality more akin to what a six year old would do in an Easy Bake Oven. (but, not as good)

Hubby and I checked the settings on the contraption, reread the recipe obtained on the website and started the search again for the manual/recipe book. It was in the third most logical place to look..........on the baking ingredients shelf, hidden behind the all purpose flour, the only book on the shelf. Thank goodness. I was all set to pay $12. for a new one that, in the mean time, I had found on eBay. We would have had to wait another week or two to savour the warm, soft texture and aroma of homemade manna. After comparing amounts of ingredients, he found the culprit was..... the yeast. Apparently, the two TABLESPOONS listed in the web recipe made a "giant" difference compared to the two TEASPOONS written in the original recipe book. We'll vouch for that! "Let's try this again." said Hubby. This time, we'll measure accurately, (if the recipe is accurate) as the web recipe said.

M-m-m. Warm.....delicious, lathered with sweet butter.....fragrance still lingering in the air. What a great midnight snack!

There is the obvious moral, "Don't believe everything you read." There's another, "It's more fun to do things with a friend." (and things taste better, too.) Thanks, Hubby.

Sunday, June 3, 2007


Now that Morgan is back in Amsterdam, I can fully relax. I'm sure these tense muscles, that have pulled my shoulders up to my ears, can be taken care of with a soothing massage. My voice, which has reached a whole octave higher than it was, will need voice therapy the doctor says and this itching rash will likely disappear with the cream he has given me. I hope I haven't pissed off too many people with my short temper over the last two weeks. Thank God that lady I clobbered in the doctor's office is not going to press charges. Hubby has been very understanding. He's going to rip up the papers he brought from the lawyer's office, as long as I never mention these last two weeks again. Now that Morgan is back in Amsterdam, I can fully relax. It's a Mother-thing.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

This is THE END...

This is THE END..........of the previous blog..........I didn't know there would be a part two until I looked again at the draft notes..........I promise I will not return to the subject of the SARAH BRIGHTMAN concert again. I do confess that the blogs are taking longer to compose than the entire concert.

Did I mention that the "moon" and "star" that formed the exceptional "stage" are Arabian symbols? You knew that already. On several occasions, chanting and musical instruments of the Middle East were used dramatically to instill the Harem theme. The thundering drums made a huge de(oops) impression.

There was an unforgettable vision when Sarah cast shadows of multiple angels on a gauze-like veil across stage front. She wore feathers, two feet long, on her finger tips and dangling from the entire length of her arms. It created the appearance of a huge winged bird...without a doubt...angelic, angelic, angelic, angelic.

I haven't said too much about singing, only two words are necessary...Sarah Brightman...or one...spectaculicious. She raised lovely melodies, like "Dust in the Wind" and "A Whiter Shade of Pale", to the divine. Of course, "Phantom of the Opera" selections contributed to the musical bliss. While Sarah sang "Nessum Dorma", standing on the high end of the curved arm above the stage (moon), it turned left and glided out into the audience, bringing her really up close and personal and w-a-a-ay up above their heads. Previously, I referred to two groups of musicians adding to the harmonious atmosphere; one was a rock band and the other, a full philharmonic orchestra. (something for everyone)

Then, there was the simplest of walking. I notice walking. (Ladies, check out the John Wayne gait in a movie sometime; and the number one walker, Jeff Goldblum, in the last two minutes of "Independence Day") Gentlemen, you'll want to check out the Sarah Brightman strut and swoon.

I'll write again about music some time, but, this concert is fini. The doors of the MGM Grand are closed.

Friday, May 25, 2007

A Little Bit of Heaven

A few days ago I received a little bit of heaven in the mail. After rushing to get through most of the days work, I put the eagerly awaited new video in the player and proceeded to see if it was as good a performance as I had imagined each time I player the CD. SARAH BRIGHTMAN, one of my three favourite female vocalists seemed to be singing just for me. While listening to the HAREM CONCERT - Live in Las Vegas over and over, I had choreographed the entire concert in my mind. Having heard it so often, I knew the voice would be magnigicent. I suspected the concert would be a was much more than was a little bit of Heaven. Without a doubt, the most beautiful spectical I have ever viewed on a stage.

And speaking of stages, this one was unigue. A huge three-quarter moon connected to a large eight-sided star by a runway about forty feet long...all outlined in lights. The runway jutted out into the audience, situating the star in the middle of the people. On stage right, or rather moon right, an arm arched high above and terminated at the centre, still twenty feet above stage (moon)...again outlined in lights. Two orchestras were visible, where you would expect the back of the stage would be and they lowered and would rise when featured.

Sarah appeared, mystically, in the centre of the star, wearing yards and yards of sparkling, shimmering, sequined froth-like, white netting waving constantly in a gentle breeze. She sang "Harem". She soon dropped the glowing accessory from her shoulders to display a gorgeous, silver-white, bespeckled, very short, very sexy bustia and pant set. Hidden from our view, under the afore mentioned webby froth were thigh-high, silver, very high heeled boots. Her long, black, curling hair was crowned with a halo resembling sparklers that were held motionless in space. A jewel hung from a delicate chain, onto her forehead. The colour of her dazzling outfit was changed magically by the twelve white and rainbowed spot lights focused on her.

It is enthralling how she often began an aria and joined it to a modern song as if they were written that way. She combined the Madame Butterfly aria with It's a Beautiful Day and just knocked me out.

At various times she seemed to be floating on a magic carpet.....she swung on a swing lowered over the audience.....she was raised into the air on invisible wires, while trailing billowing, silken gauze around her.....rose petals were tossed onto the audience by harem girls (who themselves had about eight costume changes). The ceiling then began to rain rose petals, millions of rose petals floated everywhere.....another time confetti drifted from ceiling to floor for minutes on end.....a veil of water appeared spritzing straight up, twenty-five feet, from the floor and moving back and forth like the Dancing Waters in Las Vegas.....breezes, fog all added to the intensely beautiful spectical.

Sarah's costume changes were often done, unnoticed, on stage; adding a golden komina or dropping flowing capes to reveal a new sensual outfit in black or gold. She was unseen only at times when the eight harem dancers entertained with exquisite arm, hand and, of course, hip gyrations. The longest she was off stage for the entire concert (2 hours) was ninety seconds.

Arrogantly, I tell myself I would have added gigantic drums on stage in one song and a whirling dervish-like costume and skirt and spin, for the dancers, in another. (in my dreams) I've already watched my new DVD twice.

There's so much more to tell, but, honestly THIS is the short version. I hope you were able to stay the course and I especially wish you the joy of seeing this exeptional production.