Last year I wrote about not following tradition for my holiday meals. I wanted to be more adventurous and try new things for my family.
Unfortunately, while they enjoyed the food, I still listened to the question of "Where is the (fill in your favorite food)?" each time. This year, if you like Polish food, that's what I will be serving.
First, I am cooking to accommodate the question of 'Why no pierogis?' Second, Polish cooking is pretty easy if you do not serve stuffed cabbage. Besides, I only know how to make stuffed cabbage for 50, not six. And third, I need 'easy' to accommodate my back issues and standing on my feet (though sitting is not great either).
To start my menu I bought a spiral ham. I'll spice it up by making a chutney glaze for the top. Throw it in the oven to re-heat. Done.
I am making 'kapusta'. Fresh Polish kielbasa from Kowalski's, sauerkraut, and mushrooms. Throw in the slow-cooker. Done.
Fresh peas. Cucumbers with sour cream and dill. Salad. No stress there.
My sister will arrive and fry the pierogis in butter and onions. The sour cream comes right out of the carton.
She will also make her rolls, which my sons love, and can be used for small sandwiches with the ham.
Dessert is up in the air. I would love to create something with poppy seed filling. I was thinking of making kolaches. But they need to made on Saturday and a lot will depend on how I feel. I always like something with lemon for Easter, so I am also considering a lemon mousse parfait with blueberries. If all this fails, I can always make my lemon curd ice cream. Actually, that sounds like a plan no matter what I decide.
Whether you are eating for Passover or Easter in the coming week, remember that it is not the food, it is the family.
Showing posts with label Home and Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Home and Family. Show all posts
Friends and Memories
Yesterday, I had an absolutely wonderful experience.
Earlier in the week I was asked by my long-time and dear friend Debbie Macon to interview her for StoryCorps. StoryCorps is an independent nonprofit whose mission is to provide Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share, and preserve the stories of our lives. The organization was here at our Township Library as a result of winning the National Medal for Museum and Library Science.
I was thrilled when Debbie called to ask me to be her partner in this. Deb and I have known each other for over 25 years. We told our story of first meeting and beginning our friendship when the interview began.
But before we even started, things got a little emotional. The StoryCorps person, Naomi, asked me what was my favorite thing in the Township. Without hesitation I told her that when I think about leaving West Bloomfield, I know that what I would miss most is our wonderful Library. Debbie started tearing up and then replied that her answer is the same.
We both think of the Library as a place of safety and refuge. Both of us grew up in large cities: Deb in St Louis and myself on the edge of Detroit. She walked or took the streetcar to the library; I rode the bus or took my bike there.
The library opened windows on the world to me. In books, I saw foreign places and dreamt dreams of traveling there. In books, I sought out my future. I decided that I would become a Registered Medical Technologist after reading a novel about a young woman studying to become one. Otherwise, I do not think I would have ever heard of the profession.
During the interview, we discovered that we both have in interest in Greek mythology. An 'I had no idea' moment. We talked about living here, our families, our shared experiences, both in and out of government.
Our interview will be archived at the Library of Congress. Because Deb is African-American, it will also be archived at the Smithsonian and the Museum of African American History. If you are interested in preserving a bit of your history, I suggest you check out the website.
And a BIG 'Thank you' to Deb for allowing me to be part of this experience. It is one I truly will not forget and will treasure for a long time.
Earlier in the week I was asked by my long-time and dear friend Debbie Macon to interview her for StoryCorps. StoryCorps is an independent nonprofit whose mission is to provide Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share, and preserve the stories of our lives. The organization was here at our Township Library as a result of winning the National Medal for Museum and Library Science.
I was thrilled when Debbie called to ask me to be her partner in this. Deb and I have known each other for over 25 years. We told our story of first meeting and beginning our friendship when the interview began.
But before we even started, things got a little emotional. The StoryCorps person, Naomi, asked me what was my favorite thing in the Township. Without hesitation I told her that when I think about leaving West Bloomfield, I know that what I would miss most is our wonderful Library. Debbie started tearing up and then replied that her answer is the same.
We both think of the Library as a place of safety and refuge. Both of us grew up in large cities: Deb in St Louis and myself on the edge of Detroit. She walked or took the streetcar to the library; I rode the bus or took my bike there.
The library opened windows on the world to me. In books, I saw foreign places and dreamt dreams of traveling there. In books, I sought out my future. I decided that I would become a Registered Medical Technologist after reading a novel about a young woman studying to become one. Otherwise, I do not think I would have ever heard of the profession.
During the interview, we discovered that we both have in interest in Greek mythology. An 'I had no idea' moment. We talked about living here, our families, our shared experiences, both in and out of government.
Our interview will be archived at the Library of Congress. Because Deb is African-American, it will also be archived at the Smithsonian and the Museum of African American History. If you are interested in preserving a bit of your history, I suggest you check out the website.
And a BIG 'Thank you' to Deb for allowing me to be part of this experience. It is one I truly will not forget and will treasure for a long time.
Everything old is new again
According to my sons, and those redo folks on HGTV, some of my furniture is 'out-dated'. If you watch the shows about selling your home, you are told that you need to make it look up-to-date. This has been taken to the extreme in my opinion by having the owners rent new furniture and putting their own stuff in storage. Give me a break. It is not like the new owners get to keep the furniture in the house. I say, let them use their imaginations to figure out how their own furniture will fit.
Anyway, I digress from the purpose of writing this entry. When I quit working for Detroit in 1977, I withdrew the money I had contributed to my pension plan there, since I was not yet vested, and bought living room furniture. With the exception of two chairs, I still have it all. And I still like it even if it makes my sons groan.
This morning I am reading my newspaper and there is a small article titled 'La-Z-Boy adds "BoHo chic" colors.' And there is a picture to go along with it:
Anyway, I digress from the purpose of writing this entry. When I quit working for Detroit in 1977, I withdrew the money I had contributed to my pension plan there, since I was not yet vested, and bought living room furniture. With the exception of two chairs, I still have it all. And I still like it even if it makes my sons groan.
This morning I am reading my newspaper and there is a small article titled 'La-Z-Boy adds "BoHo chic" colors.' And there is a picture to go along with it:
OMG. Is this really true? Can it be? Wait till I show the kids!
The article says that the 'Bohemian Rhapsody' collection is a combination of "old world" and fashion-forward styles in hippie-inspired earthy hues.
Of course, I grabbed my camera and ran (OK, I moved slowly, whatever) into the living room and shot this photo:
The sunlight coming in makes the color seem lighter than it actually is. But unless I am mistaken, the style of the sofa is very similar to the 'new' La-Z-Boy. Admittedly, several of the items on the coffee table are quite old, but I am going to pass my furniture off as new. It's chic.
Now if I can just get the kids to stop bugging me about getting an HDTV, I'll be living in relative peace.
Death Comes in Threes
If you have managed to reach this stage in your life and you have not heard the phrase 'Death comes in threes', pray tell, who have you not been talking to?
I heard this phrase growing up in an Italian family. Every time a famous person died, my mother would say that two more would follow. I googled the phrase and found lots of posts about it. Click here for your choice of writings.
Anyway, when I heard that Elizabeth Taylor had died last week, the #3 popped into my head. Logically thinking, famous people die all the time, but I watched the news to see who would be next. Three days later it was the announced death of Geraldine Ferraro. And then, before the week was over, Farley Granger had died. My mother always said the deaths happened within one week.
When I was growing up, 'Liz' was my favorite actress. The first picture I saw in a theatre with her as the star was 'Giant' in 1956. Of course, I had seen several on TV with Bill Kennedy as host on Canadian Channel 9. My girl friend Karen and I decided that she and Rock Hudson were our favorite actors. I bought every movie magazine that had a story about her and amassed quite a collection through high school. I even sent off for an autographed picture.
I have a VHS tape of the movie 'Giant' that was re-issued for the 40th anniversary of the film. Unfortunately, my tape deck is not hooked up to my large-screen TV and Texas loses a lot on a 13-inch screen, which has a built-in tape deck.
The magazines and pictures are long gone. We can only keep so much 'stuff' in boxes for our children to dispose of when we pass. But today, while going through the check-out line in the grocer's, I picked up a copy of People magazine, with a cover story on Liz. I'll sit back tonight and relive my youth and fascination with a very talented and beautiful woman. May she and all those other famous people, who gave us pleasure in watching their craft, rest in peace.
And the next time I hear of a famous person passing on, I'll be waiting to hear of two more.
I heard this phrase growing up in an Italian family. Every time a famous person died, my mother would say that two more would follow. I googled the phrase and found lots of posts about it. Click here for your choice of writings.
Anyway, when I heard that Elizabeth Taylor had died last week, the #3 popped into my head. Logically thinking, famous people die all the time, but I watched the news to see who would be next. Three days later it was the announced death of Geraldine Ferraro. And then, before the week was over, Farley Granger had died. My mother always said the deaths happened within one week.
When I was growing up, 'Liz' was my favorite actress. The first picture I saw in a theatre with her as the star was 'Giant' in 1956. Of course, I had seen several on TV with Bill Kennedy as host on Canadian Channel 9. My girl friend Karen and I decided that she and Rock Hudson were our favorite actors. I bought every movie magazine that had a story about her and amassed quite a collection through high school. I even sent off for an autographed picture.
I have a VHS tape of the movie 'Giant' that was re-issued for the 40th anniversary of the film. Unfortunately, my tape deck is not hooked up to my large-screen TV and Texas loses a lot on a 13-inch screen, which has a built-in tape deck.
The magazines and pictures are long gone. We can only keep so much 'stuff' in boxes for our children to dispose of when we pass. But today, while going through the check-out line in the grocer's, I picked up a copy of People magazine, with a cover story on Liz. I'll sit back tonight and relive my youth and fascination with a very talented and beautiful woman. May she and all those other famous people, who gave us pleasure in watching their craft, rest in peace.
And the next time I hear of a famous person passing on, I'll be waiting to hear of two more.
AHA! I think.
One of the first things I did when my husband moved out in 1994 was to hire a heating and cooling company to figure out why my furnace shut off before the house got warm. We moved in here in 1972 and my husband insisted that there was no problem with the furnace. Never argue with an engineer.
So, the guy comes and I explain the problem as I see it. He goes up and down the stairs several times, turns the furnace off and on again, walks around the house and then asks me to join him in the living room, next to the thermostat. He has me place my hand next to the thermostat on the wall and the wall is roasty, toasty. He then tells me to move my hand out to the side, in either direction. The wall is cold.
So, here is what the idiot builder did when he built the house. He placed the thermostat in front of the vent pipe for the furnace. The furnace comes on, the vent pipe gets warm, the furnace shuts off, the house stays cold. Solution, move the thermostat to a new location, in this case, the dining room.
While that solved most of the problems, I still had a front corner bedroom at the farthest run from the furnace that was always colder than the other rooms, sometimes by as much as five degrees. I had it looked at but every solution offered was to just use a small space heater. Since the bedroom was on a slab foundation, they said there was not much they could do and they did not think an air-flow booster in the duct would help.
Still, I was always sure that something was blocking air flow across the front of my house. And I wasn't the only one with problems. A neighbor in a tri-level house had cold upstairs bedrooms. In taking apart the stairwell where the ducts travelled, they discovered that the duct work had not been installed completely. There was a three foot gap!
Last week I had all the duct work thoroughly cleaned with one of those truck mounted sytems. Whatever they did, they must have dislodged the blockage. Now when I walk into this bedroom where my computer is, I am hit with a blast of warm air. THAT has never, ever happened before. The outside wall shows 66 degrees instead of the 59 that it read before. (Ya gotta love laser temperature readers. And yes, my thermostat is set at 66 degrees with 50% humidity.)
I'd been looking at insulated siding for this south wall of the house. Now, maybe, I'll use the money on something else and just repaint the wood. I hate to say I was always right, but in this case, AHA, I think I was.
So, the guy comes and I explain the problem as I see it. He goes up and down the stairs several times, turns the furnace off and on again, walks around the house and then asks me to join him in the living room, next to the thermostat. He has me place my hand next to the thermostat on the wall and the wall is roasty, toasty. He then tells me to move my hand out to the side, in either direction. The wall is cold.
So, here is what the idiot builder did when he built the house. He placed the thermostat in front of the vent pipe for the furnace. The furnace comes on, the vent pipe gets warm, the furnace shuts off, the house stays cold. Solution, move the thermostat to a new location, in this case, the dining room.
While that solved most of the problems, I still had a front corner bedroom at the farthest run from the furnace that was always colder than the other rooms, sometimes by as much as five degrees. I had it looked at but every solution offered was to just use a small space heater. Since the bedroom was on a slab foundation, they said there was not much they could do and they did not think an air-flow booster in the duct would help.
Still, I was always sure that something was blocking air flow across the front of my house. And I wasn't the only one with problems. A neighbor in a tri-level house had cold upstairs bedrooms. In taking apart the stairwell where the ducts travelled, they discovered that the duct work had not been installed completely. There was a three foot gap!
Last week I had all the duct work thoroughly cleaned with one of those truck mounted sytems. Whatever they did, they must have dislodged the blockage. Now when I walk into this bedroom where my computer is, I am hit with a blast of warm air. THAT has never, ever happened before. The outside wall shows 66 degrees instead of the 59 that it read before. (Ya gotta love laser temperature readers. And yes, my thermostat is set at 66 degrees with 50% humidity.)
I'd been looking at insulated siding for this south wall of the house. Now, maybe, I'll use the money on something else and just repaint the wood. I hate to say I was always right, but in this case, AHA, I think I was.
Making one Think
Four years ago today, I was here at home with all of my family and friends. We were eating take-out food, something that doesn't happen too often at my house. The reason was simply that I was out of commission and out of the kitchen.
The day before, February 22, 2007, I slipped on the floor at Town Hall and suffered a tri-maleolar fracture of my left leg. In simple English, I fractured the tibia, fibula and ankle bones. A steel plate and nine screws were used to repair my leg. While in the cast, I broke a bone in my other foot. I was out of work until June. I was in physical therapy for several months and then in April 2008 I had another surgery to remove all the hardware and then another round of physical therapy.
It was during that time at home that I fully realized how much stress I was under at work. While I was connected to the Town Hall computers from home and did my daily work, I totally ignored what transpired at the Board level. Never watched a meeting, never read my packet, never asked questions. I was cool. I also decided that I no longer wanted that level of stress in my life and made a decision not to run for election in 2008.
I thought of all of that again this past week after I learned that another of my former co-workers at Town Hall had passed away. It was the third person to die within less than two years and all were in their mid-50's.
The obituary written in the Oakland Press for the Budget Director, Steve Brideau, quotes his wife as saying he was under stress. I do not doubt that at all. He had a stressful job in a very stressful time.
I have often referred to Town Hall as being 'toxic'. Those who are there or are familiar with the situation know exactly what I am talking about and I feel sad knowing that it exists. My thoughts are often with them.
The day before, February 22, 2007, I slipped on the floor at Town Hall and suffered a tri-maleolar fracture of my left leg. In simple English, I fractured the tibia, fibula and ankle bones. A steel plate and nine screws were used to repair my leg. While in the cast, I broke a bone in my other foot. I was out of work until June. I was in physical therapy for several months and then in April 2008 I had another surgery to remove all the hardware and then another round of physical therapy.
It was during that time at home that I fully realized how much stress I was under at work. While I was connected to the Town Hall computers from home and did my daily work, I totally ignored what transpired at the Board level. Never watched a meeting, never read my packet, never asked questions. I was cool. I also decided that I no longer wanted that level of stress in my life and made a decision not to run for election in 2008.
I thought of all of that again this past week after I learned that another of my former co-workers at Town Hall had passed away. It was the third person to die within less than two years and all were in their mid-50's.
The obituary written in the Oakland Press for the Budget Director, Steve Brideau, quotes his wife as saying he was under stress. I do not doubt that at all. He had a stressful job in a very stressful time.
I have often referred to Town Hall as being 'toxic'. Those who are there or are familiar with the situation know exactly what I am talking about and I feel sad knowing that it exists. My thoughts are often with them.
Speaking of Food - Again
I had a request today for good recipes for soup. I told my friend of some of my favorites and said I would make copies and give them to her. I mentioned butternut squash, mushroom, five onion, among others.
Going through my recipe files when I got home I saw a recipe for cheese soup that I have not made in a very long time. The recipe is a special one. How could I have forgotten it?
Back when I was a stay-at-home mom, I sent a recipe into the Detroit News. Imagine my surprise when they called one day and asked to come out and do a feature on my recipe. Well, I wanted to make sure it was an experience I'd be proud of.
Going through my recipe files when I got home I saw a recipe for cheese soup that I have not made in a very long time. The recipe is a special one. How could I have forgotten it?
Back when I was a stay-at-home mom, I sent a recipe into the Detroit News. Imagine my surprise when they called one day and asked to come out and do a feature on my recipe. Well, I wanted to make sure it was an experience I'd be proud of.
I got everything ready, just as they told me to do. Soup, ingredients, me and the boys. Following is the article as it was printed.
What I find interesting is that the plant hanging in the background, which I purchased in Trapper's Alley when it opened back in the mid-70's in Greektown, is still hanging in my family room.
What a bunch of Junk
I am not a pack rat by any means whatsover. Was that clear enough?
I've thrown away a lot of things I wish I had kept. There was the Mary Quant mini-dress I picked up off the sale rack at Hudson's and later given to the Salvation Army. Same for the autographed copy of Rosemary's Baby. And nothing is worse than going to an antiques show and seeing the very stuff you tossed marked with some ridiculous price-tag.
Even so, there were boxes in my basement that needed to be sorted through and tossed. Most of the boxes I brought home when I retired two years ago. Committee materials, awards, campaign documents, pictures. In other words, junk. Most of it is being tossed. Some is going to folks who still have an interest in this material.
What was more surprising was finding a box of 'stuff' from when I left my job with Detroit in 1977. There was my teaching manual on lipidology, a book on blood cell identification, my enzymology lecture notes, and even the enzymology exam I used for my students. (Confession: I no longer knew any of the answers to the questions I read. After a few, I just gave up.)
I am not sure why I ever kept them. And I must have seen that box over the years and wonder why I never opened it and then threw it out. Especially once I decided I was never going to work in a laboratory again. So, now it is all boxed up for the recycling bin, since most of it is paper. I think I have an entire small tree in my garage and Tuesday can't come fast enough.
I've thrown away a lot of things I wish I had kept. There was the Mary Quant mini-dress I picked up off the sale rack at Hudson's and later given to the Salvation Army. Same for the autographed copy of Rosemary's Baby. And nothing is worse than going to an antiques show and seeing the very stuff you tossed marked with some ridiculous price-tag.
Even so, there were boxes in my basement that needed to be sorted through and tossed. Most of the boxes I brought home when I retired two years ago. Committee materials, awards, campaign documents, pictures. In other words, junk. Most of it is being tossed. Some is going to folks who still have an interest in this material.
What was more surprising was finding a box of 'stuff' from when I left my job with Detroit in 1977. There was my teaching manual on lipidology, a book on blood cell identification, my enzymology lecture notes, and even the enzymology exam I used for my students. (Confession: I no longer knew any of the answers to the questions I read. After a few, I just gave up.)
I am not sure why I ever kept them. And I must have seen that box over the years and wonder why I never opened it and then threw it out. Especially once I decided I was never going to work in a laboratory again. So, now it is all boxed up for the recycling bin, since most of it is paper. I think I have an entire small tree in my garage and Tuesday can't come fast enough.
It's Worse than Mom Thought it Could be
When I was growing up, we had a neighbor who owned the local gas station down on the corner of the street. The couple had five sons, all of whom at one time or another worked at the station.
The older boys were close in age to my sister and I. My mother called all of them 'grease monkeys' (OK, not PC) and told us we had better not marry any 'grease monkeys'. Well, there was no possibility of that, but...
Now I have become one. I've been pumping my own gas for what seems like forever. Of course, I remember paying 19.99 cents per gallon at one time and someone pumped it for me, but that was a very long time ago. I refused very early on to pay more to have someone come to my car and pump it for me when I could just as easily get out and do it myself. Call me cheap, I didn't care.
So, I thought of this today when I got in line at Costco to get gas and pulled in behind someone who seemed clueless about the process. First she fumbled around in her car doing god knows what. The she came out talking on the cell phone, then she appeared to be texting, and then finally she figured out how to get the gas cap off.
She walked over to the pump and inserted her card in the slot where the receipt prints. Man, this was going to take a long time. After several feeble attempts with two different cards, she was finally ready to pump gas. By then the person in front of her was pulling away and I had to drive around her to get to the pump.
Pumping gas is not rocket science. And I don't care if my mother would think I was a 'grease monkey' for doing it. At least I know how. Geez.
The older boys were close in age to my sister and I. My mother called all of them 'grease monkeys' (OK, not PC) and told us we had better not marry any 'grease monkeys'. Well, there was no possibility of that, but...
Now I have become one. I've been pumping my own gas for what seems like forever. Of course, I remember paying 19.99 cents per gallon at one time and someone pumped it for me, but that was a very long time ago. I refused very early on to pay more to have someone come to my car and pump it for me when I could just as easily get out and do it myself. Call me cheap, I didn't care.
So, I thought of this today when I got in line at Costco to get gas and pulled in behind someone who seemed clueless about the process. First she fumbled around in her car doing god knows what. The she came out talking on the cell phone, then she appeared to be texting, and then finally she figured out how to get the gas cap off.
She walked over to the pump and inserted her card in the slot where the receipt prints. Man, this was going to take a long time. After several feeble attempts with two different cards, she was finally ready to pump gas. By then the person in front of her was pulling away and I had to drive around her to get to the pump.
Pumping gas is not rocket science. And I don't care if my mother would think I was a 'grease monkey' for doing it. At least I know how. Geez.
Before and After
Pictures to go along with my bathroom repair:
BEFORE
AFTER
BEFORE
AFTER
As I said in an earlier posting, you have to leave this room to change your mind. Mighty small, indeed.
Remember When...
I had a very long day in East Lansing on Friday. While driving home in the late Friday afternoon traffic, my mind somehow wandered to my old phone number. Back when I was growing up in the 50's. Go figure. It got me thinking about how my life growing up was so different from what it is like today. So, here is a simple 'remember when' from my youth:
Remember when...
Everyone's phone number began with a name - Prescott, Slocum, Lakeview, Venice, Toledo, etc. Even when I moved to West Bloomfield in 1972 I had a 'Mayfair' exchange.
Everyone you knew who had a phone had a party line. Only folks who were wealthy could afford a private phone line.
Answering machines were non-existent. No messages were left and you had no idea who called while you were gone.
No one had to remember a 'zip code'. And mail came twice a day during the holidays.
The local dry cleaner picked up and delivered your clothes to your home.
The Twin Pines milkman delivered milk in glass bottles, which we rinsed and gave back to him. Hey, we were recycling before it was fashionable.
And the coal company and ice truck also made home delivery if it was needed.
There was a fruit and vegetable man who came down the street with his cart, not just the 'Good Humor' man.
We were not allowed to play outside and run in the sprinkler hose in the hot summer, lest we catch polio.
Speaking of summer, we left the house in the morning and played with our friends all day making sure we were home when the street lights came on. We ate at whichever house we were at.
During the holidays, we went downtown to the JL Hudson Company to see the decorated store windows and visit the 12th floor with myriad decorations. We rode up on an elevator manned, or womaned, by elevator operators.
The best pizza was found at the local bowling alleys and small Italian bakeries. I still remember when Little Caesars became popular in the 60's. Who knew.
All of these thoughts ran through my head as I made my way home. I am sure if you start thinking about it, you too can come up with many 'somewhat trivial' things that have changed.
Remember when...
Everyone's phone number began with a name - Prescott, Slocum, Lakeview, Venice, Toledo, etc. Even when I moved to West Bloomfield in 1972 I had a 'Mayfair' exchange.
Everyone you knew who had a phone had a party line. Only folks who were wealthy could afford a private phone line.
Answering machines were non-existent. No messages were left and you had no idea who called while you were gone.
No one had to remember a 'zip code'. And mail came twice a day during the holidays.
The local dry cleaner picked up and delivered your clothes to your home.
The Twin Pines milkman delivered milk in glass bottles, which we rinsed and gave back to him. Hey, we were recycling before it was fashionable.
And the coal company and ice truck also made home delivery if it was needed.
There was a fruit and vegetable man who came down the street with his cart, not just the 'Good Humor' man.
We were not allowed to play outside and run in the sprinkler hose in the hot summer, lest we catch polio.
Speaking of summer, we left the house in the morning and played with our friends all day making sure we were home when the street lights came on. We ate at whichever house we were at.
During the holidays, we went downtown to the JL Hudson Company to see the decorated store windows and visit the 12th floor with myriad decorations. We rode up on an elevator manned, or womaned, by elevator operators.
The best pizza was found at the local bowling alleys and small Italian bakeries. I still remember when Little Caesars became popular in the 60's. Who knew.
All of these thoughts ran through my head as I made my way home. I am sure if you start thinking about it, you too can come up with many 'somewhat trivial' things that have changed.
Black Friday
For all intents and purposes, I am likely done with holiday shopping. That is because I buy things all year long as I see them and put them away. (Regarding the previous post, I have also forgotten about gifts I have purchased and find them many months, or years, later.) I have all of this year's 'stuff' right now in a spare bedroom.
So, I will not be hitting the stores on Friday. To tell the truth, I have never shopped on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Last Tuesday I went to Macy's to pick up something and they were having an early bird sale. I am sure the 'early bird' was trampled to death by all the shoppers. I ended up leaving because the lines were too long at the registers.
What I would like to know is who in the world is going shopping at Kohl's at 3:00 in the morning? I guess if you work midnights this is great. For those of us who normally sleep during the night, I'll be dreaming about shopping. Maybe. Probably not.
Update: This came in an email today from Chico's. My kind of day.
So, I will not be hitting the stores on Friday. To tell the truth, I have never shopped on the Friday after Thanksgiving. Last Tuesday I went to Macy's to pick up something and they were having an early bird sale. I am sure the 'early bird' was trampled to death by all the shoppers. I ended up leaving because the lines were too long at the registers.
What I would like to know is who in the world is going shopping at Kohl's at 3:00 in the morning? I guess if you work midnights this is great. For those of us who normally sleep during the night, I'll be dreaming about shopping. Maybe. Probably not.
Update: This came in an email today from Chico's. My kind of day.
Finally, a Menu
After several weeks of debating with myself and searching through recipes, I have finally published my Thanksgiving menu. Yes, published. I print out a menu for everyone to see. While this may sound strange, I have a very good reason for doing so.
During the thirty-eight years I have lived in my home, I have cooked a LOT of holiday meals. I have served a LOT of food at parties, too. I have also NOT served food. This is because I would forget it in the fridge or even on the stove.
So, the printed menu serves as reminder to at least look for the food on the list. I am sure my forgetfulness will only get worse. Looking for a vase for the potpourri I purchased today, I found instead my candle vases from last Thanksgiving. I had forgotten about them. The vase I was looking for? Who knows. And I can't find the table runner I wanted to use. This all comes from having too much 'stuff'. Both in my house and in my brain. System overload.
So, for those who are interested, here is the menu:
During the thirty-eight years I have lived in my home, I have cooked a LOT of holiday meals. I have served a LOT of food at parties, too. I have also NOT served food. This is because I would forget it in the fridge or even on the stove.
So, the printed menu serves as reminder to at least look for the food on the list. I am sure my forgetfulness will only get worse. Looking for a vase for the potpourri I purchased today, I found instead my candle vases from last Thanksgiving. I had forgotten about them. The vase I was looking for? Who knows. And I can't find the table runner I wanted to use. This all comes from having too much 'stuff'. Both in my house and in my brain. System overload.
So, for those who are interested, here is the menu:
Brie en croute, Fig jam, Sliced apples
Sparkling Pomegranate Juice
Chestnut Soup
Salt-Roasted Turkey w Giblet Gravy
Mashed Golden Potatoes
Roasted Butternut Squash
Caramelized Brussels Sprouts w Shallots & Bacon
Spinach Salad w Pears, Walnuts, Goat Cheese - Raspberry Vinaigrette
Brandied Cranberry Chutney
Cranberry Walnut Cornmeal Bread
Chocolate Raspberry Chambord Torte
Coffee and Assorted Teas
Happy Thanksgiving!
Those pesky 800 numbers are not always so bad
Those of us who have caller ID love the ability we have to ignore 800 and 877 or 866, etc. phone numbers, no matter what time they call. But when the same number calls every thirty minutes, you get curious as to what is going on.
That happened to me yesterday. After four calls, I decided to 'google' the number showing on my caller ID. Every blogger on the website I went to said that it was the fraud division of a major bank.
So, I hit the dial button on the phone and was connected to an automated message that there was a fraudulent attempt to use my credit card. Still not being convinced of its legitimacy, I hung up.
I retrieved my credit card from my purse and called the number on the back. After entering my card number and verifying my zip code, I heard the same message I heard when I called the number on caller ID.
Uh OH! This is not good. After a long series of questions verifying my identity, I was transferred to a REAL LIVE PERSON. Tada!
He asked me which of the latest charges were made by me. Well, there was the trip to Home Depot on Thursday, but, I had not spent the day shopping for electronic equipment in Brooklyn, New York. Attempts were made at two stores on Fulton Street, within a block of each other. Fortunately, the card was rejected.
The representative I spoke with closed my account and suggested that I make a police report with the local police, which I did. They in turn gave me more information on protecting my credit.
Today I placed a fraud alert at all the credit bureaus. I also reviewed my credit report. I tried to make a report with the State AG office, but could not find the form online, so I will call tomorrow and ask where to find it. I saw the picture of the form, so it must be there, right? (BTW, the State website is not the easiest site to find information on. I found myself going round in circles.)
I have several cards that I am going to cancel. Everyone says it will hurt my credit score, but they are cards I rarely use and are just another opportunity for some thief.
You may wonder how this happened and I did too. I went through all my charges and believe I know the culprit. In examining my receipts, I discovered one that did not truncate the card numbers as required by state law in Michigan. I will be contacting them about their procedures. (Apparently, the law allows someone doing a manual procedure to record all the numbers. Who in this day and age does not have a handheld card reader, or, if not, calls it in to a central number????)
You never know when you will be the victim of this type of crime. I thought I was always being careful. Guess you just don't always know.
That happened to me yesterday. After four calls, I decided to 'google' the number showing on my caller ID. Every blogger on the website I went to said that it was the fraud division of a major bank.
So, I hit the dial button on the phone and was connected to an automated message that there was a fraudulent attempt to use my credit card. Still not being convinced of its legitimacy, I hung up.
I retrieved my credit card from my purse and called the number on the back. After entering my card number and verifying my zip code, I heard the same message I heard when I called the number on caller ID.
Uh OH! This is not good. After a long series of questions verifying my identity, I was transferred to a REAL LIVE PERSON. Tada!
He asked me which of the latest charges were made by me. Well, there was the trip to Home Depot on Thursday, but, I had not spent the day shopping for electronic equipment in Brooklyn, New York. Attempts were made at two stores on Fulton Street, within a block of each other. Fortunately, the card was rejected.
The representative I spoke with closed my account and suggested that I make a police report with the local police, which I did. They in turn gave me more information on protecting my credit.
Today I placed a fraud alert at all the credit bureaus. I also reviewed my credit report. I tried to make a report with the State AG office, but could not find the form online, so I will call tomorrow and ask where to find it. I saw the picture of the form, so it must be there, right? (BTW, the State website is not the easiest site to find information on. I found myself going round in circles.)
I have several cards that I am going to cancel. Everyone says it will hurt my credit score, but they are cards I rarely use and are just another opportunity for some thief.
You may wonder how this happened and I did too. I went through all my charges and believe I know the culprit. In examining my receipts, I discovered one that did not truncate the card numbers as required by state law in Michigan. I will be contacting them about their procedures. (Apparently, the law allows someone doing a manual procedure to record all the numbers. Who in this day and age does not have a handheld card reader, or, if not, calls it in to a central number????)
You never know when you will be the victim of this type of crime. I thought I was always being careful. Guess you just don't always know.
Missing in ???
It has been awhile since I have had time to sit here and write. I have spent the better part of the last week sitting in a hospital room, not as a patient, but as a parent.
I truly believe there is nothing worse than having an ill child. And yes, they are always your little children no matter how old they get.
But if the feeling of helplessness is not enough to wear out your body and mind, there is the actual experience of not being able to find help on the hospital floor when you need it. I will grant that in the middle of the stay, the holiday occurred, but having spent ten years working in the medical profession in a hospital, I know that they are open 24/7, weekends and holidays included. Patients and family are not enjoying a day off, so if you work in the medical field, get used to it. Hospitals should be making sure that the patient is not suffering just because they did not schedule their illness at peak working hours.
Trying to buy a sandwich at the deli counter yesterday, I nearly had a meltdown. It took five people to get change out of a register. There was a very nice nurse at the counter who asked me what was wrong and then asked me to call her at home. What is wrong is that hospitals need to be better staffed. I have heard this same complaint from people who have been hospitalized recently at the hospital here in West Bloomfield.
Beautiful new bricks and mortar buildings are wonderful, but when you are on the inside, all you care about is having someone there when you need them. That being said, there were some wonderfully attentive nurses and aides, just not enough of them.
I truly believe there is nothing worse than having an ill child. And yes, they are always your little children no matter how old they get.
But if the feeling of helplessness is not enough to wear out your body and mind, there is the actual experience of not being able to find help on the hospital floor when you need it. I will grant that in the middle of the stay, the holiday occurred, but having spent ten years working in the medical profession in a hospital, I know that they are open 24/7, weekends and holidays included. Patients and family are not enjoying a day off, so if you work in the medical field, get used to it. Hospitals should be making sure that the patient is not suffering just because they did not schedule their illness at peak working hours.
Trying to buy a sandwich at the deli counter yesterday, I nearly had a meltdown. It took five people to get change out of a register. There was a very nice nurse at the counter who asked me what was wrong and then asked me to call her at home. What is wrong is that hospitals need to be better staffed. I have heard this same complaint from people who have been hospitalized recently at the hospital here in West Bloomfield.
Beautiful new bricks and mortar buildings are wonderful, but when you are on the inside, all you care about is having someone there when you need them. That being said, there were some wonderfully attentive nurses and aides, just not enough of them.
Nostalgia
I am not much of a pack-rat, but occasionally I have stashed stuff away that proves memorable. While cleaning out my closet this morning, I found a poster from the American Cancer Society Great American Lock-up from March, 1993. No, I do clean more than once every 20 years, but I keep putting this back in there.
The first year I remember being part of this ACS event was 1992. The Township Clerk and I were led away in hand-cuffs from our offices and taken to someplace in Novi. Imagine the looks we got from drivers on the way. Two women in fur coats sitting in the back of a police car. I can only imagine what they thought.
There are eighteen photos of 'suspects' on the poster I have. What is really clever is the charge against each of us. I am charged with paying my taxes late. Our Township Supervisor, who was known for her apple pies, was charged with an unlawful desire to bake them.
There is the private investigator charged with 'ogling', the doctor charged with 'impersonating a golfer', and a local mayor charged with ' being an honest politician.' But my favorite, with apologies to my friends, is the attorney charged with 'impersonating a human being'. You have to wonder who thought that one up.
Now I just have to bring myself to throw this out. Am I sure my family doesn't want to chuckle over this when I am gone?
The first year I remember being part of this ACS event was 1992. The Township Clerk and I were led away in hand-cuffs from our offices and taken to someplace in Novi. Imagine the looks we got from drivers on the way. Two women in fur coats sitting in the back of a police car. I can only imagine what they thought.
There are eighteen photos of 'suspects' on the poster I have. What is really clever is the charge against each of us. I am charged with paying my taxes late. Our Township Supervisor, who was known for her apple pies, was charged with an unlawful desire to bake them.
There is the private investigator charged with 'ogling', the doctor charged with 'impersonating a golfer', and a local mayor charged with ' being an honest politician.' But my favorite, with apologies to my friends, is the attorney charged with 'impersonating a human being'. You have to wonder who thought that one up.
Now I just have to bring myself to throw this out. Am I sure my family doesn't want to chuckle over this when I am gone?
Generational Differences
There are differences in work style, motivation, technological skills, and personal values among the various generations in the workplace. We must be aware that it's essential to adapt our methods in order to best reach this talented upcoming generation of public servants and finance officials and to continue to get the best from more experienced public servants.
The above quote is from an email I just received from the Government Finance Officers Association. They have prepared a report on the topic of 'Generational Change' which is available on their website for free at http://www.gfoa.org/.
Let me start by saying that I have not read the report. But, I did have lots of thoughts about generational differences when I read the email. Some background:
Last week my oldest son came for a visit. Now that we no longer have the, "Mom, when are you going to retire?" discussion, we are able to move on to the "Mom, when are you going to move out of Michigan?" discussion. This usually starts a whole round of questioning about my retirement and what my plans are. And eventually leads into why am I not travelling more, buying a new television (this is popular with all my sons), still have a landline phone, don't have an iPad, etc. All of these questions certainly show the difference in generational thinking. I wonder if any of my sons could use a slide rule?
I grew up in the 50's. While I don't remember the post-Korean War Recession on 1953, I do remember the one in 1957. My father was a tile setter and 'no construction' meant 'no work.' In those days, accepting government welfare meant picking up boxes of food containing dried eggs, powdered milk and stew in a can, suitable for feeding the family pet. Those experiences had a lot to do with shaping my ideas for my future.
I also remember a world of air-raid drills in school and envying my friend whose family had a real air-raid shelter in their front yard. Remember sitting in the halls with your head between your knees? We all knew that some crazed political leader could end life as we knew it with a push of a button. I remember going camping with the Girl Scouts in the Utica area and being told there was a Nike Missile site nearby. I wasn't sure if I felt safer or not. And then there was the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Vietnam War.
When I graduated from high school and then college, I, like many of my friends, thought that I would remain in the same career until retirement. (Some did, I didn't.) And finally finding myself in a good-paying job, our President enforced a wage-freeze.
My sons all grew up in the 80's and 90's. Not exactly the environment their mother grew up in. They lived in the suburbs and had a pretty comfortable life compared to me. Their opportunites were endless. No welfare, no air-raids, and no war until the Gulf Crisis.
The differences in thinking are apparent when we have conversations about my life choices and how I spend my money. My parents grew up in the Great Depression. That certainly contributed to my fiscal conservancy along with my own experiences. So, it is no wonder that today's young workers, those 30-somethings, have very different ideas about their working and leisure lives than we did.
Their 'work style' includes tele-commuting, something we never heard of in the 60's and 70's. Their motivation to do a good job includes their own personal satisfaction in doing so, something I strongly encourage. While they may not be able to use a slide rule, their technological skills far surpassed mine back to when they were in high school. And their personal values? They seem just about right to me. They seem to have a much better hold on balancing work and leisure than I did at their age. And that ain't all bad.
The above quote is from an email I just received from the Government Finance Officers Association. They have prepared a report on the topic of 'Generational Change' which is available on their website for free at http://www.gfoa.org/.
Let me start by saying that I have not read the report. But, I did have lots of thoughts about generational differences when I read the email. Some background:
Last week my oldest son came for a visit. Now that we no longer have the, "Mom, when are you going to retire?" discussion, we are able to move on to the "Mom, when are you going to move out of Michigan?" discussion. This usually starts a whole round of questioning about my retirement and what my plans are. And eventually leads into why am I not travelling more, buying a new television (this is popular with all my sons), still have a landline phone, don't have an iPad, etc. All of these questions certainly show the difference in generational thinking. I wonder if any of my sons could use a slide rule?
I grew up in the 50's. While I don't remember the post-Korean War Recession on 1953, I do remember the one in 1957. My father was a tile setter and 'no construction' meant 'no work.' In those days, accepting government welfare meant picking up boxes of food containing dried eggs, powdered milk and stew in a can, suitable for feeding the family pet. Those experiences had a lot to do with shaping my ideas for my future.
I also remember a world of air-raid drills in school and envying my friend whose family had a real air-raid shelter in their front yard. Remember sitting in the halls with your head between your knees? We all knew that some crazed political leader could end life as we knew it with a push of a button. I remember going camping with the Girl Scouts in the Utica area and being told there was a Nike Missile site nearby. I wasn't sure if I felt safer or not. And then there was the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Vietnam War.
When I graduated from high school and then college, I, like many of my friends, thought that I would remain in the same career until retirement. (Some did, I didn't.) And finally finding myself in a good-paying job, our President enforced a wage-freeze.
My sons all grew up in the 80's and 90's. Not exactly the environment their mother grew up in. They lived in the suburbs and had a pretty comfortable life compared to me. Their opportunites were endless. No welfare, no air-raids, and no war until the Gulf Crisis.
The differences in thinking are apparent when we have conversations about my life choices and how I spend my money. My parents grew up in the Great Depression. That certainly contributed to my fiscal conservancy along with my own experiences. So, it is no wonder that today's young workers, those 30-somethings, have very different ideas about their working and leisure lives than we did.
Their 'work style' includes tele-commuting, something we never heard of in the 60's and 70's. Their motivation to do a good job includes their own personal satisfaction in doing so, something I strongly encourage. While they may not be able to use a slide rule, their technological skills far surpassed mine back to when they were in high school. And their personal values? They seem just about right to me. They seem to have a much better hold on balancing work and leisure than I did at their age. And that ain't all bad.
Some things do get found
The story I read today is of a 112 year-old ship that was found at the bottom of Lake Michigan. That means I still have hope for the earring I think I lost in my driveway.
Now this is not as crazy as it sounds. In April of 2008 I met my sister and brother-in-law in Ann Arbor to go to the Antiques Show at the Fairgrounds. I remember deciding when I got ready that Sunday morning not to wear my gold bracelet because I was having trouble with the clasp, even though it had recently been repaired. We had a great time looking around and I got lucky and didn't buy anything.
When I was getting ready for work on Monday morning, I could not find my bracelet. I was panicked. I convinced myself that I must have put it on and lost it at the show. I even sent an email to the show organizers in the hope that a good Samaritan might have found it and turned it in.
When I told the staff at work about it, one of them told me not to worry, that it will show up someday. Right. I tore my house and car apart when I got home and then gave up looking. After all, it was just a bracelet.
I am an avid gardener, as you may have discovered from my posts. Imagine my surprise when I ventured into the garden in fall of 2009 and saw something shiny among the dying flowers. I reached down and there was my gold bracelet. Somehow it had lain there all during the prior year summer planting and clean-up in the fall and following spring.
The clasp must have loosened while I was walking through the garden and I didn't notice that I wasn't wearing it when I took my jewelry off at bedtime.
So, it did miraculously show up. And perhaps one day I will find my turquoise Zuni bear earring in the front garden some place.
Now this is not as crazy as it sounds. In April of 2008 I met my sister and brother-in-law in Ann Arbor to go to the Antiques Show at the Fairgrounds. I remember deciding when I got ready that Sunday morning not to wear my gold bracelet because I was having trouble with the clasp, even though it had recently been repaired. We had a great time looking around and I got lucky and didn't buy anything.
When I was getting ready for work on Monday morning, I could not find my bracelet. I was panicked. I convinced myself that I must have put it on and lost it at the show. I even sent an email to the show organizers in the hope that a good Samaritan might have found it and turned it in.
When I told the staff at work about it, one of them told me not to worry, that it will show up someday. Right. I tore my house and car apart when I got home and then gave up looking. After all, it was just a bracelet.
I am an avid gardener, as you may have discovered from my posts. Imagine my surprise when I ventured into the garden in fall of 2009 and saw something shiny among the dying flowers. I reached down and there was my gold bracelet. Somehow it had lain there all during the prior year summer planting and clean-up in the fall and following spring.
The clasp must have loosened while I was walking through the garden and I didn't notice that I wasn't wearing it when I took my jewelry off at bedtime.
So, it did miraculously show up. And perhaps one day I will find my turquoise Zuni bear earring in the front garden some place.
A Thank You to the Folks Who Help
I intended to get home early this evening and write about my trip to Oak Park, IL for the WrightPlus Weekend. That will have to be put on hold while I thank the people who offered their help in time of need.
To make a long story short about how it happened, suffice it to say that I had a tire blow-out upon entering the Skyway in Chicago for the trip home. I pulled over on the emergency ramp and dialed for Roadside Assistance. Originally being told that someone would be there in 25 minutes, we waited and told three different motorists who stopped that we were 'OK'.
Then we got the call that said, because we were on the ramp, they needed to send someone else and it would be 45 minutes more. I said I would try to back down the ramp - traffic was extremely light for Chicago.
Once I got down the ramp, I dialed in again to let them know what I did at the same time that a young man on a bicycle said he could go get someone to change the tire from down the street. I told the operator what was happening and she said if someone got there before the tow truck, just let her know.
So, the young man left on his bike, another young couple stopped and offered assistance, the young man came back and said the man coming down the street would help, and we started unloading the luggage to get the spare out.
Now, how many young and helpful folks have you ever met in the space of 30 minutes just by chance? We were pleasantly surprised. The tire got changed. We chatted with the young couple who were thinking of moving to St. Joseph or anyplace along the Michigan shoreline. We were on our way within an hour of the incident occuring.
What could have been an unhappy ending to a wonderful trip turned out to be a reaffirmation of faith and trust in the American public. Way to go Chicagoans! Thanks to you all.
To make a long story short about how it happened, suffice it to say that I had a tire blow-out upon entering the Skyway in Chicago for the trip home. I pulled over on the emergency ramp and dialed for Roadside Assistance. Originally being told that someone would be there in 25 minutes, we waited and told three different motorists who stopped that we were 'OK'.
Then we got the call that said, because we were on the ramp, they needed to send someone else and it would be 45 minutes more. I said I would try to back down the ramp - traffic was extremely light for Chicago.
Once I got down the ramp, I dialed in again to let them know what I did at the same time that a young man on a bicycle said he could go get someone to change the tire from down the street. I told the operator what was happening and she said if someone got there before the tow truck, just let her know.
So, the young man left on his bike, another young couple stopped and offered assistance, the young man came back and said the man coming down the street would help, and we started unloading the luggage to get the spare out.
Now, how many young and helpful folks have you ever met in the space of 30 minutes just by chance? We were pleasantly surprised. The tire got changed. We chatted with the young couple who were thinking of moving to St. Joseph or anyplace along the Michigan shoreline. We were on our way within an hour of the incident occuring.
What could have been an unhappy ending to a wonderful trip turned out to be a reaffirmation of faith and trust in the American public. Way to go Chicagoans! Thanks to you all.
Cooking 101
I grew up in a family of cooks, really good cooks. Some had catering businesses and others were cake bakers and decorators (my Mom). I hated cooking. Baking I liked, but that was due to my sweet tooth more than the fact that I liked doing the work.
I did the requisite cooking when I got married. I've even held every holiday dinner with four exceptions (one time I had food poisoning) that I can think of over the last 35 years or so. I had a subscription to Gourmet magazine and still use the April 1974 copy when I cook Greek food. But it has only been in more recent years that I have learned to LOVE cooking.
I do not know what caused this other than over the years our interests change. I started going to Sunday morning demonstrations at Williams-Sonoma about five years ago. I met someone who retired from teaching and enrolled at Schoolcraft College in Culinary Arts. She suggested that I look into the Continuing Education classes there. I have enjoyed them immensely and have met some very talented and interesting folks.
Which brings me to my Cooking 101 pet peeve. If a recipe needs one teaspoon of garlic, why do the authors write one clove? Is that the large clove or the smaller clove in the head? Exactly how much chopped onion is in one medium onion? One green pepper chopped equals? This all comes from the recipe I have for Chicken Burritos. The recipe is from 'Bon Appetit' magazine. I imagine that two people could end up with two different tasting recipes.
And while the different tasting burritos might not matter, messing up measurements in baking are a disaster. I have to agree with Alton Brown that metric measurements in baking are a whole lot easier to follow when you are weighting ingredients, as I prefer to do. Much easier to weigh grams than 1/8th of an ounce. Baking recipes are more precise. It would be nice if cooking recipes were too.
Now, back to the kitchen.
I did the requisite cooking when I got married. I've even held every holiday dinner with four exceptions (one time I had food poisoning) that I can think of over the last 35 years or so. I had a subscription to Gourmet magazine and still use the April 1974 copy when I cook Greek food. But it has only been in more recent years that I have learned to LOVE cooking.
I do not know what caused this other than over the years our interests change. I started going to Sunday morning demonstrations at Williams-Sonoma about five years ago. I met someone who retired from teaching and enrolled at Schoolcraft College in Culinary Arts. She suggested that I look into the Continuing Education classes there. I have enjoyed them immensely and have met some very talented and interesting folks.
Which brings me to my Cooking 101 pet peeve. If a recipe needs one teaspoon of garlic, why do the authors write one clove? Is that the large clove or the smaller clove in the head? Exactly how much chopped onion is in one medium onion? One green pepper chopped equals? This all comes from the recipe I have for Chicken Burritos. The recipe is from 'Bon Appetit' magazine. I imagine that two people could end up with two different tasting recipes.
And while the different tasting burritos might not matter, messing up measurements in baking are a disaster. I have to agree with Alton Brown that metric measurements in baking are a whole lot easier to follow when you are weighting ingredients, as I prefer to do. Much easier to weigh grams than 1/8th of an ounce. Baking recipes are more precise. It would be nice if cooking recipes were too.
Now, back to the kitchen.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
-
My absentee ballot is still sitting on the kitchen counter top where I first opened it. I am pretty sure I will not be voting for all the o...
-
The growth of China Importing across the globe has rendered China the greatest exporter in the world. China has overtaken the United State...
-
Attorney Gregory Yates attorney , who are customers and employees to defraud consistently dishonest. Avoid his next victim. In this case, l...
