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Happily Ever After

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Isn’t It Romantic?

by Valerie Nusbaum

“Randy, when you have a few minutes I have a couple of questions for you,” I called to my dear husband.

He walked slowly into my studio where I was doing some cleaning up, and he sheepishly asked, “What is it you think I did?”

“Nothing. Did you do something? Oh, never mind. I need to know what you’d consider the perfect romantic evening.”

He made that face—the one that’s a cross between fear and smelling something awful—and replied, “I don’t know. You can’t just hit a guy with a question like that and expect the right answer.”

I assured him that there are no “right” answers to the question. I simply wanted his opinion, and I urged him to say the first thing that came to his mind.

He thought about it for a minute and told me that his perfect romantic evening would start with dinner at home, preferably nothing garlicky and no raw onions, and also nothing that causes gas. He asked why I wanted to know. I replied that I was doing some research.

“For a column? Or are you planning to romance me?” he asked, and he did that thing where he wiggles his eyebrows, which is silly because that always makes his head hurt.

I pointed out that dinner at home would be fine as long as I didn’t have to do the cooking. It’s not that I mind cooking a nice meal for Randy. I do it all the time, but we women sometimes like to enjoy a meal that someone else has prepared. Right, ladies?

In my research, I really was just trying to get a handle on how we look at romance and what we find romantic. Do men view romance differently from women? Do men even know what romance is, or do they care, for that matter?

For me, something as simple as Randy leaving me a note beside my teacup in the morning is romantic. He fills my tank with gas without being asked. If he sees that I’m cold, he gets a blanket for me. It doesn’t always have to be a grand gesture, although, just once, one of those would be really nice, too. I explained all that and Randy asked what I meant by “grand gesture.” I said, “A weekend in a luxury suite in a posh hotel or a trip to Paris, big pieces of jewelry or dozens of roses—things like that.”

He replied, “I did that whole luxury suite thing, remember? And it didn’t go well.” He’s correct. It wasn’t great, but mainly because we’d heard about the hotel/resort from Randy’s former boss and the place turned out to be not all that luxurious. Plus, I knew about the trip from the start. It wasn’t a surprise and grand gestures are supposed to take one by surprise.

“You don’t like surprises. You don’t handle them well at all.” He’s right about that, too.  It’s just that we women get tired of having to tell our men what we want. Why can’t they figure it out on their own? I know Randy isn’t a mind-reader, but he lives with me and sees me every day, so shouldn’t he know what I like and don’t like? Granted, if I tell him what I want and am very specific about it, I usually get exactly the present I’m looking for, but it’s not a surprise. Oh, I pretend that it is. We women all do that, don’t we?  Wouldn’t it be nice just once not to have to go through all those machinations to get “the gift”? In truth, Randy has surprised me with really great things over the years, and he’s come up with good ideas on his own. I’m one of the lucky ones because I have a man who makes the effort. He just isn’t always sure what he’s looking for or why he’s doing it.

I, on the other hand, am like a dog with a bone. I hear Randy say he wants or needs something, or would like to do something, and I look for it until I find it. I like a challenge.  He has to be careful around me, because sometimes he makes a joke and ends up with a pair of black satin shorty pajamas. Oh, yeah, I found those babies and he wore them.

Sometimes, I get it right without meaning to. For Christmas, I wore myself out shopping and wrapping and trying to find things that would make Randy’s face light up. It turned out that the gift he liked best was the little slot machine bank I’d bought on impulse as a joke. I got the beautiful necklace that I’d described and asked for.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that Randy is right. It makes sense for us to plan trips together and to discuss buying tickets to concerts and plays, because we don’t always know how the other is feeling. OK, I know how he’s feeling and what he’s thinking, but he can’t read my mind. We’ve already established that. It’s usually a good idea for us to choose a restaurant together, too. Please don’t tell him that I said he was right. That would really put a damper on the romance.

Happily Ever After

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A Fresh Start

by Valerie & Randy Nusbaum

Dear Readers:

I’m often asked why Randy never gets a chance to rebut the things I write about him in this column. You know that old saying, “Be careful what you wish for?” Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. The opinions in this particular column are Randy’s and his alone. And, no, I didn’t twist his arm or threaten him to make him say nice things about me. Read on.

Okay, I know all of you turned to this page, expecting to see Valerie’s column, and rightly so. Valerie’s columns are something I look forward to every month as well. But this month, in an effort to help out during the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, I volunteered to write a column for Valerie. Well, actually she doesn’t know I’m writing it, so please don’t tell her. (Valerie’s Note: He offered. I was tired. I might have said yes.)

As most of you know, many of Valerie’s writings involve our adventures and a few of my mishaps or delusions of grandeur. I started out to write something in my defense. Upon further reflection, I’ve decided that Valerie is a saint for putting up with me. There is no defense. Almost all of what she describes is the truth; although, she occasionally tones some of it down to lessen the shock and horror of my most recent folly. I know of no one else who would be so gracious.  Perhaps, the column should be called “In Her Defense.” As in, “Your honor, you only need to read a few of my columns to understand why I did it.” (Valerie’s Note:  Nothing in this paragraph was coerced. Some of it is true.)

The holiday season is typically a time of reflection for many of us. Christmastime brings around the joy of the season. It’s a time to reconnect with loved ones and friends. New Year’s allows us to pause and remember the passing year—good and bad—whilst making plans and resolutions, as we look forward to the coming year. (Valerie’s Note: I have to caution Randy all the time not to try and use a British accent with these customers. They would not be amused.)

Personally, I like to spend this season catching up on movies. No, not new movies. Real movies that define our generation. I’m specifically talking about three movies that everyone has seen, and if you haven’t already seen them, you really should.  I’m sure you are all familiar with the list, but just in case, here they are in no particular order.

Jeremiah Johnson (1972), with Robert Redford. Seriously, if you haven’t seen it, I’m not really sure how you’ve survived this long. If you don’t watch this film at least once a year, I have no idea how you hone your basic survival skills. And what in the world do you talk about at parties?

The Replacements (2000), with Keanu Reeves. A must-see for comic relief and important life lessons.  Given all of the recent drama with the NFL, this movie is all the football you’ll ever need. It’s not just for the holiday season, and can and should be watched any time.

Point Break (1991), with Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. No, not the recent remake. Why Hollywood ever thought remaking a classic was a good idea, I’ll never know…but don’t watch it. The original is a religious experience and should not be tampered with. This movie has it all, and really should be watched more than once a year to keep you on an even keel. (Valerie’s Note: Keanu Reeves used to be my “hall pass,” but given Randy’s weird fascination with his movies, I’m sure you can understand why I now find Keanu kind of icky.)

Now, if you were to ask Valerie (and please don’t), she would question why there is a need to watch the same movie over and over again.

I’ve tried to explain that I learn something different with every viewing. Consider the value of the important life lessons we can learn from each viewing.

Valerie’s not buying it, but don’t be fooled. Every time I throw out a timely movie quote (“Hey Johnny—get me two”), she knows exactly which film it comes from. (Valerie’s Note: I smile and nod a lot, and I stand a good chance of guessing correctly if I name one of his top three.)

Enjoy this time of reflection and reconnection. And, I promise, next month, Valerie will be back again with actual witty entertainment!  (Valerie’s Note: Randy’s pretty witty all by himself.)

“My dad had a saying about volunteering. He told me that there are three kinds of fools in the world: Fools, Darn (insert curse word) Fools, and Volunteers. I guess we all know where I landed. Dad had a good many sayings, all of which I’ll remember forever, and most of which I can’t print.”

“In my job, I work with a British customer. The Brits use terms like ‘whilst’ and ‘crikey’ and ‘brilliant’ often, and I am fascinated with their use of words.”

 

 

Thanks for reading,

Randy

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Your Holiday Questions

by Valerie Nusbaum

The holidays are difficult enough without wondering why we’re doing the things we’re doing, right?  We all follow certain traditions and customs, but do we really know why? I got curious and started doing research, and I asked some other people to tell me what puzzles them about their holiday rituals. We pretty much all know why we exchange gifts and why we place candles in our windows, but we do lots of other things without thinking too much about it.  This is what I learned.

 

Why Does Santa Wear a Red Suit? 

According to The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis, it is widely thought that the Coca-Cola Company influenced the color of Santa’s suit. It is also thought by some that Clement Moore’s 1822 poem “The Night Before Christmas” inspired the jolly elf’s garb.  In truth, the original St. Nicholas (the Bishop of Myra in the 4th century) is said to have worn robes of red and white. Either way, black would be much more slimming and wouldn’t show the soot from all those chimneys.  I’m just saying.

 

What is Wassail?

Kathy Cage wrote that, “Wassail is a beverage made of fruit juices, ale, wine, spirits, and spices. The punch is traditionally served hot, with baked apples, nutmeats, or toast pieces floating on top.”  Sonya Moss concurred. Sonya said that she’d tried making it once and didn’t really like it, even though she’d used a generous amount of bourbon. My mother-in-law used to make her own alcohol-free version of wassail, and it was delicious.  I don’t remember anything floating on top, though.

 

Does Santa Pay the Elves?

The best answer I could find to this question is that Santa pays his elves with candy and cookies, and doesn’t even provide a dental plan. In this age of everyone sounding off about everything, I’m surprised that Santa hasn’t been severely chastised on social media and in the news. On the other hand, Santa doesn’t make any money either.

 

Why are Hanukkah Colors Blue and White?

Mental Floss tells us that the colors are taken from the Israeli flag. Blue also represents the stripes on the tallitot (traditional prayer shawls worn in the synagogue and at ceremonies). Blue conveys the sky, faith, and truth. White represents purity, light, and peace.  And silver? Bling, of course.

 

What’s the Difference Between Figgy Pudding and Plum Pudding?

There’s no difference at all, according to NPR.  They’re the same pudding.  Apparently “plum” is a pre-Victorian generic term, referring to any dried fruit, particularly raisins. In the old days, there were neither figs nor plums in the pudding. I’m told it’s delicious, but it seems like an awful lot of effort. Real ones, made from scratch, take five weeks to make.

 

Does Anyone Actually Eat Fruitcake?

My mother loves it. Randy’s mom baked and shipped several of them every year. So, I guess the answer is “yes.”

 

Why Do Some People Use a Star and Others Use an Angel as a Christmas Tree Topper?

Wickipedia writes that some people use a star as a representation of the Star of Bethlehem, while others use an angel to represent Gabriel sent to herald the birth of Jesus. And there is no truth to Randy’s story that Santa got irked at an angel and shoved a tree up there. No one knows why Bill Blakeslee uses a wine bottle.

 

Why Do We Eat Turkey for Thanksgiving?

Wild turkey may have been served at the first Thanksgiving feast in 1621. Turkey began to be widely used for the meal in the 1800s. The birds were large enough to serve a crowd. And, when I said “wild turkey,” I meant the kind we eat.  The other kind is something else entirely and can be served on any holiday.

 

Do People Really Roast Chestnuts On an Open Fire?

Lynne Gartrell wrote, “In all the old Christmas carols, movies, and literature, everyone roasts chestnuts on an open fire. I have never done that, or even tasted a roasted chestnut. Do people still do this? Are they good?”

Nancy King has a cousin with a chestnut tree, and her husband gathers chestnuts and roasts them.  He says they’re delicious. My in-laws used to have chestnut trees, too. They gathered the nuts, took them down to the shore and sold them at markets. Our sister-in-law, Karen Nusbaum, is originally from England, and she assured Lynne that chestnuts are good and are still roasted in the UK. Connie House added that chestnuts were roasted to keep poor people’s hands warm, as they couldn’t afford gloves or muffs. Putting warm chestnuts in their pockets, along with their hands, kept their hands from freezing. Chestnuts are also used in some Asian dishes.  Water chestnuts are delicious and crunchy and have nothing at all to do with this.

 

Why Do We Kiss Under the Mistletoe?

Chris Houck wants to know, “Why do we kiss under the mistletoe?”

Dating all the way back to the 1st century Druids, mistletoe has had romantic overtones because the plant is able to flower in the dead of winter. According to history, one Norse legend has it that Odin’s son, Baldur, was shot dead by Loki with an arrow fashioned from a mistletoe branch. When Baldur was miraculously resurrected, his mother, Frigg, named mistletoe a symbol of love and proceeded to kiss everyone who passed under it.

 

Why Do We Hang Stockings?

Legend has it that three sisters hung their stockings to dry over the fireplace. Knowing that the family was very poor, St. Nicholas tossed three bags of gold coins down their chimney, and the money landed in the stockings. Children everywhere now hang stockings on Christmas Eve, hoping that they’ll be so lucky.

 

Why Do We Decorate Christmas Trees?

This custom started in Germany.  Supposedly, Martin Luther was out one night and noticed the stars twinkling through some tree branches. He was so enamored of the sight that he cut down a small tree and decorated it with candles to enjoy in his home. The tradition of decorating Christmas trees spread to England and then all over the world.

 

What is a Yule Log?

Lighting a yule log in a home is thought to burn away bad luck and keep away the darkness. Any kind of wood will do. It has nothing to do with Yul Brynner.

 

What is Mince Pie?

Original mince pies contained rabbit, pigeon, partridge, hare, and pheasant, as well as dried fruit and spices. Modern mincemeat sometimes includes sausage, and usually liquor. The pies were baked in an oblong or square shape to resemble Jesus’s cradle. Eating the pie is supposed to bring good luck.

 

No matter what traditions you keep, Randy and I hope your holidays are wonderful! Happy celebrating to you all!

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Pumpkin, Anyone?

by Valerie Nusbaum

I always know when autumn is just around the corner because I start seeing television and online ads for products featuring the delicious flavor of pumpkin spice. There are coffees and teas and pancakes galore. The pancakes are good, but I don’t drink coffee and I don’t like flavored teas. Starbucks, McDonald’s, Dunkin’ Donuts, and many other chains have jumped on the pumpkin wagon. So has IHOP.

I’ve tried pumpkin yogurt, pumpkin-flavored cereal, and pumpkin seed granola. I didn’t love any of those products, and I didn’t care for the pumpkin-flavored instant oatmeal either. There are a plethora of breakfast choices out there if you happen to be a pumpkin lover. I just bought a box of pumpkin spice Cheerios, and I’ll let you know how those taste. Like cardboard, I’m guessing.

Then, there are all the cakes, cookies, pies, muffins, and breads.  My mom always bakes a batch of yummy pumpkin muffins for me when fall rolls around. I hope she’s reading this because I haven’t seen any muffins yet this year, and I’ve lost a few pounds. My mother-in-law loved pumpkin pie, but she wouldn’t eat any pie that wasn’t Mrs. Smith’s. She liked what she liked, and we always served her a Mrs. Smith’s pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, unless some other brand was on sale and then we hid the box. Pumpkin bread with raisins and nuts is one of my brother’s favorite fall treats. And how could I forget pumpkin whoopie pies? Dunkin’ Donuts has a whole assortment of pumpkin donuts and treats, and they’re delicious.

Just this morning, I received an email from Harry & David. For only $89.99, I can buy a gorgeous and delicious two-layer pumpkin-shaped devil’s food cake. It’s frosted with orange icing and has a jaunty green stem sticking out the top. Or for $5.99, I can bake two chocolate bundt cakes, slap them together, and throw a few drops of red and yellow food coloring into some vanilla frosting. I can stick a couple of silk floral leaves in the hole and call it dessert.

My mother loves pumpkin butter on her toast. We’ve tasted pumpkin ice cream, and I even made pumpkin soup one year for Thanksgiving dinner. I won’t do that again. It was a whole lot of effort for very little taste, or else I did something wrong.

My friend, Teresa, buys a large pumpkin for Halloween, and after she and her kids make a jack-o-lantern, Teresa roasts the seeds.  She’s very talented.

Well, here’s the thing: I heard a news report on TV recently stating that a lot of products advertising “pumpkin spice” flavoring actually contain no pumpkin at all.  They contain cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and a few other things, but there’s not a lick of pumpkin in there.  Now, that’s not true of everything.  There are always exceptions, I’m sure. I did some research at the grocery store, and I admit that I had a hard time finding the word “pumpkin” listed in the ingredients in some of the products.

Luckily, pumpkins aren’t just for eating. Like Teresa, you can carve them up for Halloween, or keep them whole and decorate with them all through the fall. Pumpkins may be painted and decorated. They can be used as containers for flower arrangements or they can hold beef stew or soup, as is the tradition at Patsy Davies’s house.

Pumpkins can also be chunked, as in “shot out of a cannon.” We can go to pumpkin patches and pick our own beauties. We can also grow our own, as Randy has done in the past. One of the funniest things he ever did was enter a teeny, tiny pretty little home-grown pumpkin in the Thurmont Community Show. I swear that thing wasn’t more than five inches in diameter, and I razzed him something awful for having the nerve to enter it in the Show. I ate my words when the darned thing won “Best Pumpkin.”

Pumpkins come in all colors, shapes, and sizes, and they really do look pretty on our porches and tables. Whatever your pumpkin preference is, I hope you find something you enjoy and celebrate this beautiful season.

We always associate the month of November with Thanksgiving, but let’s not forget Veterans Day. Randy and I sincerely thank all of you Veterans and your families for your service and sacrifice. We couldn’t do what we do, if you hadn’t done what you did and continue to do.

We’re also sending our best wishes to you all for a very happy Thanksgiving.  This year has been a difficult one for our country, with all the hurricanes, floods, fires, disasters, shootings, and tragedies, not to mention the political climate.  It’s hard to remember to be grateful for the good things in our lives when there’s so much to worry over.

As we sit down to dinner on November 23, I’ll be thankful for my wonderful husband and mother and the rest of my extended family; for my friends, without whom I couldn’t get through the bad days; for a roof over our heads and food on the table; and for the ability to get out of bed in the mornings. I will remind myself that I am grateful for many other things as well, and then I will dig into something delicious that tastes like pumpkin.

 

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‘Tis the Season

by Valerie Nusbaum

It’s September as I’m writing this column. The kids have gone back to school, and summer is pretty much over. I can hardly wrap my mind around those facts. Thanksgiving is only two months away, Christmas is closer than I care to imagine, and Halloween is almost upon us.

September and October used to be very busy months for Randy and me because early autumn is the time when all the fall festivals and outdoor arts and crafts shows are held. Back in the day, we used to participate in at least four or five festivals and shows annually.  It was a fun way for us to spend time together, as we sat in our tent and sold our handmade wood items, watercolor prints, potpourri, jewelry, candles and floral arrangements. Over the years, we’ve handcrafted everything from holiday ornaments to wall hangings and yard decorations. Christmas trees, crab mallets, greeting cards—you name it, we’ve made it.

Last year, we more or less retired from the arts and crafts business. The work involved in setting up and tearing down for a two-day show is very hard on our old joints. Not to mention that two or three days of dealing with people wears a body out.

I don’t know how those of you who work in retail manage it.  Shoppers and lookers can be very rude, sometimes without meaning to. Plus, the weather doesn’t always cooperate, and it’s no fun in the rain.

In November, Randy and I said goodbye to Catoctin Colorfest, after many years of setting up our tent in the Community Park. Yes, we’ll miss all the shows and our friends, but we will still be able to attend and do some shopping, and we’ll finally be able to get something to eat! Who knows? We might miss it so much that we’ll find ourselves wanting to get back into it. Maybe when Randy actually retires, and we have some time on our hands.

If you’re a person who enjoys getting out in the beautiful fall weather and looking at all the interesting items for sale, I’m giving you a helpful list to make your craft show experience a happy one. Read on.

 

Eleven Things You Should Never Say to an Artist or a Craftsperson

 

“I/My husband/My kid could make that.” FYI: We don’t care.

 

“I saw one of those at Walmart, and it was cheaper there.” Good for you. Chances are the item you saw at Walmart wasn’t handmade. That’s probably why it cost less.

“Did you make/paint/draw that?” Most juried craft shows or art fairs require that the items for sale be handmade and that the person who actually did the making be the one selling. So, yes, I made it. Duh.

“Will you give me a discount or take less for it?” Craft shows are not flea markets. Most of us vendors never get paid for the amount of time we spend making our art. We can’t afford to give discounts or offer sales. The really good shows prohibit price haggling or sales.

“Can you give me directions for making that?” Sure, but why would I do that? I have a whole table full of things I’m trying to sell.

“That’s very nice, but I don’t know where I’d put it.” On Saturday morning, I might respond with a “thank you,” but by Sunday afternoon, I might have a few suggestions for where you could put it.

“Would you make one for me?”  See #5.

“You remind me of my grandmother.” Unless your grandmother was Georgia O’Keeffe or Frida Kahlo, I might be a little offended by that statement.

“I really need to start selling my own work.” Please do, so I can come by your booth and make you feel bad.

“I don’t have the time to craft/paint/sew.” Then what, pray tell, do you do with all that free time? Sleep?

“Yes, but this isn’t, like, a real job.” No, it isn’t. I work much longer hours for lots less money and even less appreciation.

So, as you can see, I really did need a little break from the business. I’m still selling online and doing an occasional exhibit or small indoor show, and I’ll probably always paint or make some crafts for the sheer pleasure it gives me. I just found selling it in-person is too exhausting. Randy has had so many other things going on in his life in recent years that he, too, needs some time to regroup.

We’ll carry with us many pleasant memories of our vending days. One, in particular, still makes me smile. It was during Catoctin Colorfest, and it had been a long day. A young father came into our tent with his small son. The little boy was looking at some of my prints and seeming to enjoy himself. The father came over and whispered that his son loved to draw and paint, and asked if the boy could ask me a question.

“Sure,” I said.

The boy was about five years old, and he very seriously asked, “How do you stay inside the lines so good?”

I answered him honestly when I said, “I don’t always, and that’s OK.”

Happy Fall, y’all!

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-Plumb Crazy-

by Valerie Nusbaum

“I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but you really need to fix your toilet.  It never shuts off quite right,” I wrote in an email to Randy last week.  He was at work and I had just attempted to get his toilet to stop running yet again.  This problem had been going on for months and as I pointed out in my email, “I’m sure it’s not helping with our outrageous water bills.”

Maybe I wrote the magic words, but when we got up last Saturday morning he announced that he was going to fix the toilet first thing and then he’d replace the faucet on his sink.  We’d bought a new faucet a couple of weeks ago and he hadn’t had time to work on it.

“Sounds good,” I said, “but if the faucet is too much of a job, we can call a plumber.”  Those are fighting words in our house and I knew it.

“Why would I call a plumber and pay him hundreds of dollars for a job that will take me twenty minutes?” asked my hubby.  I’ve been down this road before, more than once, and I knew what was coming.  To my credit, I kept quiet and went along.

At nine o’clock that morning, Randy made a trip to ACE Hardware to buy a toilet kit.  I was cleaning out a closet in my studio and couldn’t hear what was happening in his bathroom but the job seemed to go well and in a little while, he announced that he was finished.

“I’m glad that’s fixed,” I said.

“Oh, I just said I was finished.  Whether or not it’s fixed remains to be seen,” was Randy’s reply.

Somewhere around 10:00 a.m., he crawled under his sink and started cussing.  I swear, I didn’t know there were that many variations of one word.  Apparently the valves weren’t going to come off in any way that would be reusable, so Randy needed another trip for parts. This time, he decided to spread the wealth and he visited Hobbs Hardware.

Randy asked if he could turn off the water to the house before he left because he needed to take a valve with him in order to match it.  I’d been planning to do some cleaning and scrubbing but without water, I had to find something else to do so I wrapped some birthday gifts for my upcoming lunch with my cousin and Mom.

I heard Randy come home before I saw him.  He stomped into my office and announced that he was a dope and was sure he’d bought the wrong piece.  I wanted to point out that he’d said he was taking a piece with him to the store, but I let that one go.  He looked under the sink, unloaded some more swear words and went out the door again.

When he got back home, he informed me that Mr. Hobbs had laughed at him.  I told him that I felt sure Mr. Hobbs laughs at a lot of the men in town.

At noon, Randy asked me if I wanted him to stop for lunch.  I couldn’t cook anything without water and had no leftovers in the fridge to warm up, plus he hadn’t given me time to wash the breakfast dishes and the sink was full, so I told him that we’d have to get some takeout salads for lunch but I could wait a while.  I figured I’d give him time to finish the job.  There was so much grunting and groaning coming from the bathroom, it almost sounded like the night before a colonoscopy.  At one point, I saw him take his phone into the bathroom, so I know that YouTube was involved.

I walked on the treadmill and did some work on the computer, both of which are in my office.  The office is right next to Randy’s bathroom, so he was doing all his cursing and muttering under his breath.   I avoided turning on the television while I walked as I know that Lifetime annoys him when he’s already annoyed, and I didn’t dare put on a home improvement show at that point.  Randy kept saying, “Really????”  I’m pretty sure he was talking to the pipes.

I could see him referring to the directions that came with the faucet.  His bathroom isn’t very big, so each time he threw the papers they were still within easy reach.  And, of course, the directions were incorrect.  They always are, aren’t they?

At 1:00 p.m. he turned the water back on.  Evidently, water isn’t supposed to spray all over the inside of the cabinet, so the water was promptly turned off again.  There was more straining and grunting, some words I hadn’t heard before, and at 1:30 I was called in to help check the seating of the stopper.  Success!  Everything seemed to be working properly and there were no more leaks.  The new faucet is very stylish, too.  Just to be on the safe side though, Randy suggested that we not put the towels and toiletries back inside the cabinet for a while.

As we finally ate our salads, Randy pointed out that he’d saved us quite a few dollars.  He’s right about that.  This morning, I noticed that the towels are still in the guest room.

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Memory Lapse

by Valerie Nusbaum

I woke up this morning with the day’s agenda already in my head.  My plan was to get in at least two miles on the treadmill, do some ironing, clean out the cabinets in my office, then clean myself up and meet Randy at his parents’ house at 2:30 p.m. It might not sound like much of an agenda, but these things were in addition to all of my other regular chores. Please keep that in mind.  Also, I’m a lot slower than I used to be.

It was 6:15 a.m., and I went downstairs to pour a bowl of cereal and make a cup of tea. I had already checked the weather for today and the coming week, checked my email, done a bit of fiddling with my Etsy shop, and taken a look at a new painting I’d posted on Facebook.

I was struggling to remember the name of the beautiful little city Randy and I had visited in Michigan last summer. The name just wouldn’t come to me, even though I could see details of our trip clearly in my mind.  This happens to me a lot. My friend, Joanie, calls it “losing her nouns.” Evidently it happens to a lot of us.

While my tea was heating, I noticed an offensive odor in the kitchen. I remembered that I had put some asparagus in the trash the night before. I changed the trash bag, wiped the trash can and lid with a bleach wipe, and sprayed some air freshener in the kitchen. I checked on the tomato plants growing on my windowsill and reminded myself to water them later. Darn it! I still couldn’t remember the name of the Michigan city, but I finally did remember that the Christmas shop there was called Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland.

After breakfast, I cleaned up the kitchen, called my mom, and gave up on the crossword puzzle I’d been working on while eating. Someone told me that doing crossword puzzles helps to strengthen our brains. I can’t remember who said that. Mom asked me if I had any taco chips, and if I would bring them with me to lunch tomorrow. Lest I forget, I got out the bag and set it on the counter.

It was 7:45 a.m. I still didn’t remember the name of the city, but I kept trying as I tended to some laundry, made the bed, and put on my exercise clothes and shoes. After a little work on my column, I did a mile on the treadmill. Sometimes, exercise helps me to clear my head but I still couldn’t remember the name of the city. It felt like cheating as I sat down at the computer and looked it up. Frankenmuth!  The city in Michigan is called FRANKENMUTH, people! If you happen to see me at the grocery store, please remind me of that. It will eventually stick in my mind. A while back, I went through the same thing with actress Rosario Dawson.  I couldn’t remember her name to save my life. Now I don’t remember why I wanted to know it.

As I’m writing this, I’m listening to Live with Kelly & Ryan on television, and I swear I just heard Kelly Ripa say that she can’t remember anything. Ryan Seacrest also said that his parents are friends with a couple whose names are Jack and Suzanne. Randy used to work for a couple named Jack and Suzanne. Oddly enough, they were originally from Michigan. I wonder if they came from Frankenmuth?

I ironed five items and wondered why the seams never line up on shirts and pants.

Then, I remembered that I needed to wrap some gifts to take to Mom’s luncheon tomorrow, and buy some crescent rolls for my cheese puffs. I knew there was something else I’d promised to take along, but I didn’t remember what. Meanwhile, Ryan was telling a story about him not recognizing some members of a band. I thought to myself, “Wait until you’re a little older, Seacrest.  It gets worse.”

Seriously, how often do you walk into a room and not remember what you went there for? I’m very easily distracted, too, so even if I do remember why I’m there, chances are I’ll see three other things I need to do and forget my glass of water.  I’ll do the three things and walk out of the room feeling good that I’ve knocked some chores off my list, and then I’ll wonder why I’m thirsty.

Whenever I leave the house, I do a mental checklist. I find that if I say something out loud, I tend to remember doing or seeing it, so I go through the house and say, “Curling iron unplugged, stove turned off, thermostat set, toilet not running, and door locked.”

Then I go back in the house and get my sunglasses, which I’ve forgotten. My neighbors all think I talk to myself and they tend to stay away.

Well, my friends, it’s back to the treadmill for me now. Then, I’ll clean out the cabinets, wrap the gifts, finish my chores, and head out. I hope Randy remembers to meet me. He forgets things sometimes, too.

…Happily Ever After

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Human Nature

by Valerie Nusbaum

As a writer and an artist, I’m fascinated by humans. I tend to sit quietly and observe how people move and interact with each other.  I notice their bone structures and coloring, and I spend a lot of time pondering their actions. Why do people do and say the things they do? What are their motivations? The psychology of it is quite interesting to me, and I’m constantly amazed by our differences and similarities.

I love conducting impromptu surveys and asking many individuals the same question. It’s both amusing and informative to learn about how we’re different and, yet, so alike. I’ve included some of my recent findings.

I posed the question “What is your favorite breakfast cereal?” and thirty-five people weighed in.  As you can imagine, their answers were all over the place, but the common thread was that most people try to make a healthy choice.  Oatmeal was the big winner, but only homemade oatmeal, not the stuff in the packets; although, one or two people did admit to eating the packaged stuff. Cheerios and bran were popular, as most of my social circle is people of a certain age and fiber is our friend. I learned that one person has a gluten allergy. A few very honest people copped to eating the sugary kids’ cereals—face it, folks, those are the only ones that really taste good. I like Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and I’m not afraid to say it. Interestingly, no one asked me why I wanted to know.

A magazine article that I read suggested that women should be drinking 91 ounces of water each day. I asked a group of people to tell me how much water each of them consumes on a daily basis.  Responses from fifty people varied greatly, with some folks drinking as little as 24 ounces, and one person chugging a whopping 144 ounces each day. One person postulated that drinking any liquid counts because everything contains water, which led to a discussion about whether wine consumption should be included.  The person who brought up the other beverage issue is the same person who eats dinosaur eggs oatmeal. Another person sent us all an article about the perils of drinking too much water. Again, no one wanted to know why I asked the question in the first place. In fairness, a lot of people know that I collect data for stories and articles. Some people just think I’m odd.

I asked the question, “In the movie of your life, which actor would play you?” and the responses I got were everything from Herve Villechaize and Don Knotts to Judy Densch and Sandra Bullock (me).  Melissa McCarthy was the big winner, with her name appearing three times. I asked Randy this question and he replied, “That guy who played Earl’s brother on that show.” I knew exactly who he meant.

A lot of people weighed in on the question of whether they install their toilet tissue roll over or under.  The vast majority of responders use the “over” method. Only three out of the seventy who answered the question pull their paper from under.  Those rebels! Two people cited the toilet tissue patent, where it is clearly stated that the tissue roll is to be placed in the “over” position.  One person stores her tissue in a wicker basket, and another has an up and down holder. Several people have absolutely no idea and a few don’t care as long as the roll isn’t empty. No one wondered why I was asking.

“Would you rather read the book or watch the movie?” prompted a lot of discussion. Most people prefer to read. Only three would rather watch the movie. Some said that reading the book first and then watching the movie aggravates them. On the other hand, watching the movie first and then reading the book doesn’t bother anyone. I generally can’t see the movie if I’ve already read the book. I spend too much time looking for the differences. Randy referenced The Girl on the Train, and said that he’d have preferred more information on the train in both the book and the movie. I didn’t point out that we haven’t seen the film.

What did I learn from my polling? Nothing really, except that bit about the toilet tissue patent.  I’ve always known that people like to take part in things. We’re curious about each other, and we try to help when we can. We like to share information, and, frankly, we like talking about ourselves and expressing our thoughts. If we see a big group of people clustered around something, we want to know what’s going on. We’re curious and we like to belong. We have markedly different opinions, likes and dislikes, but we share a lot of thoughts and feelings, too. Heck, maybe we’re all a little odd. Or maybe I’m not as bad as you think. Most importantly, no one cares why I ask the questions.

Happily Ever After

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Can’t Live Without Them

by Valerie Nusbaum

We can pick our friends, our seats, and, well, our noses, but we can’t pick our families (other than our spouses, of course). Randy and I have had some amusing family encounters recently, and I thought I’d share some of them with you.

There’s a bit of Irish in my family on my dad’s side; but even if there weren’t, we’d still enjoy celebrating St. Patrick’s Day—green shamrock-shaped pancakes and all. It’s been a tradition for years that Mom and I have lunch on St. Patrick’s Day at the Shamrock Restaurant. We love the decorations, the music, and the food, and it doesn’t hurt that everyone is there with the intention of having a good time. Last year, Mom and I invited our cousin, Pat, to join us; and, this year, we gained Pat’s husband, Keith, and Randy.  My hubby had never participated in the celebration because he was always working, but he took some time off to be with us this year and was glad he did. He particularly enjoyed the corned beef, and he even wore his two-foot-tall beer-mug hat.

After lunch, we all came back to our house for dessert. I had made a green coffee cake and shamrock brownies, and served them with green mint chip ice cream. We had a good time and shared lots of memories and laughs.

About a week after that celebration, I was in the kitchen getting things ready for dinner. I’d decided to have baked potatoes, and when I went to my potato bin to get them, I discovered that the bin was full of trash. Huh? Then I recognized some of the wrapping paper from a gift that Mom had given to Pat. Cousin Pat evidently thought my potato bin was a trash can. I’m just glad there was nothing stinky in there!

Not long after that, our nephew, Andrew, came up from Florida for a long weekend. The only thing more entertaining than a Nusbaum man is TWO Nusbaum men. Andrew was here to help his Uncle Randy clean out the garage at Randy’s parents’ house. That small, delicate little boy with the big glasses has grown into a 6’5” strapping linebacker-of-a-man, and we were glad to have his help with all the lifting and carrying. I don’t mean to imply that Andrew ever played football, or even basketball. The athletic prowess of the Nusbaum men runs in other directions. They are outdoorsmen and excel at fishing, hunting, and picnicking.

I went over to the house at lunchtime on Saturday. I’d been assured that the two of them had been hard at work for hours. When I called Randy to ask if Andrew liked sloppy Joes, there was an awful lot of giggling going on; I was happy that they were finding some fun in a rather dismal task. The men were at the landfill when I got to the house, so I went inside and got things ready for lunch. I saw Randy’s truck come up the driveway, and I walked out to the garage to tell them that lunch was ready. I found the pair of them in the garage, each wearing a huge sombrero, playing with toy trucks.

Andrew headed back to Florida with a truckload of stuff and two sombreros. Actually, he was wearing one of them as he waved goodbye.

My husband is the only family member I actually chose. Mostly, I’m glad I married him, but there are some times when all I can do is sigh and get on with it. Randy had to return to the eye doctor’s office three times to repeat one of his tests. His results were always inconclusive, but bordering on something serious.  The technician was thoroughly perturbed with Randy, because he had so much trouble clicking the button when certain lights came into view. It was finally determined that there was nothing seriously wrong with Randy’s eyes. His hand/eye coordination could use some work, though. He also needs to work on concentrating and not letting his mind wander during important life-saving tests.

That leaves my mother. Mom’s landline was out of order. I had been calling her for hours and kept getting a busy signal. This didn’t alarm or surprise me, as Mom has a lot of friends, and she talks on the phone often with her next-door neighbor, even though they live twenty feet apart. When we finally realized that Mom’s phone wasn’t working, Randy called the phone company and reported it. The next morning, I still wasn’t able to reach my mother. She has a cell phone, but doesn’t turn it on unless she’s going to make a long-distance call. I knew that eventually Mom would think it was odd that she hadn’t heard from me, since I check on her several times each day. I hoped that Mom would use her cell phone to call me, so I went and got my own cell phone. I knew that my dear mother would assume that she couldn’t call my landline with her cell. I was right. My cell phone rang shortly after that.

It could be worse.

I’m sending a big shout out to Susan Storer this month. “Susan, thanks so much for your kind words about my columns and for all your help.”

Happily Ever After – Food for Thought

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by Valerie Nusbaum

It is said that “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”  I believe this idea was fabricated by a group of men whose wives or girlfriends refused to cook. This month, I have a few thoughts on the topic of eating well.

I do most of the cooking at our house for several reasons: I’m home more than Randy, I’m faster in the kitchen than my husband, and I like to know what I’m putting in my body. I try to feed us healthy, tasteful food, but that’s getting harder all the time. The age-old question of “What can I make for dinner?” often comes back to bite me where I sit.

Randy doesn’t balk at cooking. He does all the grilling at our house, and he makes breakfast on the weekends. His waffles are delicious, and, no, they are not previously frozen. If I’m sick, he pitches right in. Still, most of the meal planning and grocery lists are on my shoulders.

According to some expert, here’s a formula for how many calories a person should consume in a day. Multiply your weight by 13. This number applies whether you’re not exercising at all or only working out moderately for an hour or less. If you’re exercising more heavily, add 100 to 200 calories per additional hour of exercise. If I subscribe to that theory, I should consume around 1,650 calories on any given day. You’re sitting there right now doing the multiplication, aren’t you? Does that mean, though, that if I burn 500 calories on the treadmill, I can then eat 500 more calories? That’s half of a double chocolate doughnut, and I’d like to know the answer.  Anyone?

There are so many things we can’t eat any more. A new study says that we shouldn’t consume Splenda because it can raise insulin levels, which may cause diabetes, but we shouldn’t eat sugar either because that can give us diabetes, or make us fat, which will give us diabetes. There always seems to be a new study, contradicting whatever the old study has been telling us. Can someone tell me which one is correct?

I heard that we shouldn’t eat brown rice for fear of arsenic poisoning. We had switched from white rice to brown in order to be healthier. What am I supposed to serve with my burritos and stir fry now?

I was told by my gynecologist that I shouldn’t eat so much chicken because chickens are fed estrogen. At my age, one would think that consuming some estrogen wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. So, am I now supposed to make beef burritos and stir fry? There’s also some reason why I can’t eat soy, but I can’t remember what it is. Goodbye hot and sour soup?

Eggs are a controversial subject, too. They’re a great source of protein, and the yolks are high in cholesterol. This reminds me of the egg poacher my mom had. It was a neat little plastic cup that held an egg, and Mom put it in her microwave for a specified amount of time and took out a perfectly poached egg. I mentioned that Randy might like one. Mom got one for him for Christmas. He tried it and it blew up in the microwave. There was egg everywhere. The directions instructed Randy to cook his egg for 1.5 minutes. Mom said she probably should have told us to cook it for 35 seconds. Probably.

With all the recipe substitutions I make so that we can have healthier, lower-fat food with fewer carbs, the resulting dish hardly resembles what it started out to be. Factor in the things we’re allergic to or just plain don’t like, and we’re living on lettuce and broccoli. But, wait, not too much of those either, because they can cause our blood to either thicken or thin—I forget which.

We go out to eat a couple of times each week, but finding places where we can get a delicious, health-conscious and lower-calorie meal is not easy. We also like to eat in restaurants where we can have a conversation without yelling over the din of screaming kids and background music. Randy wanted to take me out to dinner a while back, and he wanted to try that new barbecue place down on North Market Street, so we went to Carrabba’s. The barbecue joint had a line of people waiting for tables. We don’t wait for tables. We were very distressed to read that Carrabba’s restaurant in Frederick had closed its doors. Why is it that when you find a good place to eat, either the menu gets “new and improved” or it goes out of business?

We were trying to figure out what to have for dinner the other evening. Randy said that he’d see if we had a can of soup in the pantry, and we could have soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I told him that we couldn’t have sandwiches, because we’d had pancakes for breakfast and croutons on our salads at lunch. And I reminded him about the doughnut he’d forced me to eat.  We’d already had way too many carbs that day, so no more bread. He looked at me blankly and said, “Well, that’s silly. Then it’s just soup and cheese.”