"NO GUTS ANYMORE!"

“NO GUTS ANYMORE!”

Okay face it: I have no guts anymore to do the things I used to love to do! None. Used to ride the front seat of a roller coaster and love every minute of it. Used to ride a bike and let go of the handles and not crash! Used to dive into water anywhere to swim—didn’t really matter where it was. Loved going on a sled down the hill in the snow and never minded walking back up. Loved making snowmen—the bigger the better. Loved swimming in an open pool in the fall when it was cold; made me shiver but it was exhilariting.  Loved roller skating and could even do it backwards.

Now with the advance of age I will do none of the above ever! What is it that sets fear in us as we get older? Is it the rationalization that we know we could get hurt when before we didn’t think about that? I can tell you one thing and that is that there is no way on earth that I would even get on a roller coaster much less sit in the front seat. Ride a bike? Are you crazy? Do I want to live in a body cast? I don’t think so! Diving into water? Yes, I might do that in a pool that I am familiar with but never in a river like I used to do. And why?  I would break every bone in my body ---that’s why!

As for sleigh riding no way! Still have my sled and yes, I also used to go down my hill while sitting on a garbage bag flying all the way down. My driveway scares me in the snow and I have fallen several times so forget sleigh riding period. And how could I walk back up my hill? I can’t walk up it in the summer much less in the winter with ice and snow. As for making snowmen, I still do that every year but they are about a foot tall—for I can’t take the severe cold anymore [or severe heat either!] Still have my metal roller skates but gave away my white lace up leather ones long ago. Could you see me out skating on my old metal skates? Just the thought of it scares me and there is no way I am doing it.

Face it: I am not brave anymore. No guts and definitely no glory. It’s a shame it is this way but I know darned well I am not alone! I loved what the late Erma Bombeck said of skiing: “I do not like a sport like skiing where there is an ambulance waiting down at the bottom of the hilll.” Bombeck hit the nail on the head. How did she know I would feel that way too? I know how:  It comes with age for you just lose your guts to do things.

Sherry Hill

"SERIOUSLY WOULD THIS MAKE YOU QUIT DRINKING?"

"SERIOUSLY WOULD  THIS MAKE YOU QUIT DRINKING?"

Oh my what to say about this real photo taken in 1919?  It was the start of the "temperance" movement inspired by none other than an American woman named Carrie Nation.

The women in this photo look scary enough to make men   unapproachable. And no doubt no man would have gotten near them period! But it wasn't these women standing like this that scared men and made them quit drinking--it was Carrie Nation who stood six feet tall, weighed 190 pounds and went into saloons and bars carrying an ax with her that scared men.

I don't know if it made them quit drinking or not as I was not alive at that time. But she had female cohorts with her and they were also carrying axes. Heaven help the unassuming men who were drinking in saloons or bars when these women descended upon them! They would head straight for the bar and whack their axes at all of the liquor bottles smashing them into a gazillion pieces and then vacate the place---leaving a bunch of men stunned out of their wits! Carrie Nation's words, echoed by her cohorts, were "SMASH LADIES SMASH!"

I read that one time Carrie Nation went into a saloon with her ax and there was John L.Sullivan, the well-known fighter at that time. One look at her and her ax and he ran and hid from her in another room. No wonder!

If you are wondering why Carrie Nation started this rampage it was because her husband [he must have been a brave and/or senseless man] was an alcoholic! No wonder! Go online and check out her photos: Frightening. 

If a group of women with axes pounced upon bars today they would all find themselves behind bars and facing lawsuits--oh and add lunacy warrants.  Did that happen to Carrie Nation and her female cohorts? They were jailed but not sued. Lunacy? No doubt. Some good might have come out of this rampage [who knows?] but these women of 1919 as well as Carrie Nation left their mark all right --scaring the heck out of drinking men  or those who were just sitting in saloons or bars is what they are most remembered for.  And I am pretty sure that all of those men retaliated. As for Carrie Nation's husband, wonder what happened to him? Now there's a disturbing thought all right!

Sherry Hill

"JULY IS NATIONAL ICE CREAM MONTH--BUT WHO STARTED MAKING IT AND HOW?"

“JULY IS NATIONAL ICE CREAM MONTH—BUT WHO STARTED MAKING AND HOW?”

July is national ice cream month but personally, I think any month is one for ice cream. You can just have a lot more this month to celebrate! Whatever your choice of flavor might be, just go for it. But have you ever wondered who started making it and how? I thought it was something American made but WRONG! Ice cream making went back as far as 200 BC. Amazing isn’t it and how was it made?

After reading a lot about ice cream, I discovered that in the year of 200 BC or thereabouts, ice cream was made by having servants or slaves [to a king or emporer] go up to high mountain tops that were snow-covered. These men had the horrific task of digging out snow and ice and carrying in back down steep mountains by pulling a handmade wagon. Once their destiny was reached, others who served the king or emporer had to take the snow and ice out of the wagon. After doing that, whatever the royal wanted put into it was his choice—such as berries or lemons or the like. And the workers had to stir that by hand into the snow and ice. In China, the emporer liked ice mixed with milk and rice: And that is what the upper-class ate at that time for ice cream.

And as soon as that was done, the king or emporer set out to eat the homemade ice cream [not like today’s ice cream but similar] along with his chosen family and guests. If the king or emporer lived in a hot region, you can guess that the ice cream was devoured quickly! The royals of that time and a little later who lived in cold climates had the pleasure of eating ice cream at their whim but pity the poor workers or slaves to them—for they had the disgusting duty as described above.

Forward in time to about 400 BC and Arab countries as well as those in Africa and Europe were also making ice cream by using the same method:  Someone had to climb high mountains, retreive the ice and snow and cart it back to the palace. And once again, whatever the choice of flavoring the royal wanted was added to the ice and snow. If you live in another country other than the United States, google the history of ice cream in your area—might be surprised at what you find out.

When the United States became a country, people here wanted ice cream as well for their forefathers had eaten it in England. But the United States had no emporer or king in its beginning and still doesn’t as you know well—we have a president. Read that George Washington kept cellars under ground [all Americans did at that time—no electriticy and no refrigeration] as did other prominent and non- prominent people. The recipes for making ice cream in 1776 and years forward came from Quaker colonists who brought their own recipes with them when they came here to settle.  Again some had the grueling task of digging ice and snow [indentured servants] and carrying it down steep hills to a specific place. This ice and snow was kept in  tin containers and put in cellars underground a house or a building nearby.

Cellars were built underneath as a basement is today of sorts. Stairs led the way down to them and it was here that the above was kept till someone wanted ice cream. But a change was made and that was that when the ice and snow was put into tin containers, rock salt was added as a first layer, then ice and snow, then more rock salt and so on till the top of the container was filled. What did rock salt do? It lowered the temperature of the ice and snow to way below freezing. Milk was added as well as a flavoring. And this fact allowed the ice cream makers to be more variable with types of ice cream made. This was really the first ice cream here in the United States. [Some people still do this today!]

An African American man named Augustus Jackson made many ice cream recipes and is credited with inventing a way to manufacture ice cream in 1832. Eleven years later, Nancy Johnson of Philadelphia got the first United States patent for a hand-cranked freezer for ice cream. From then on, everyone could have ice cream—if they wanted to make it themselves or have someone do it for them. Imagine after the invention of electricity what transpired with ice cream! There were ice boxes in houses and unlimited possibilites.

Fast forward to today’s time and if it’s ice cream you want, all you have to do is to go to a store to buy it—any flavor and any way—slow churned, low-fat and/or with fruit, nuts, chocolate or whatever added is there for the taking! And since it’s July, go for it! After all, ice cream is wonderful and be so grateful that no one has to climb high mountains anymore to get ice and snow—who’d want that job anyway? Long live ice cream! Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=iv&v=pufDz2Ax5Z0&annotation_id=annotation_153569#t=1 **HOW TO MAKE ICE CREAM IN A BAG
                        Sherry Hill

"THE FREE-STANDING POOL THAT TOOK ON A LIFE OF ITS OWN!"

“THE FREE- STANDING POOL THAT TOOK ON A LIFE OF ITS OWN!”

In about 1997 or so, my then-husband decided we needed one of those free- standing swimming pools—the type that are five feet deep and very big across. Instead of searching for one at a store, he went to the ad section of the newspaper [which can be good] and found a pool as described above, called the person and bought it sight unseen. Not good.

When the man who owned the pool arrived at our house, he had brought not only the pool but the metal stakes for holding it up as well and two other men. The first thing I saw was DUCT TAPE on one piece of the pool liner. Did my husband? Of course not. When I pointed it out to the prior owner, he said, “Oh the liner is just fine; I put that tape on there to cover a tiny hole.”

After hours upon hours with my husband and those men, the pool was assembled. And it was dark. The pool was put out back behind the house on top of a brick patio; behind the house is woods and it goes straight down to houses below. The men left and my husband took forever in filling it up with the garden hose. About eleven o’clock that night, it was completely filled up with water and yes, I got in it with him—but not for very long. Decided to come inside and went out to the carport and saw him still in the pool—and that wasn’t all that I saw!

The pool took on a life of its own! It started moving from the back and was nearing the top floor of the house! The front was getting flatter and flatter. My husband screamed at me to call 911 and I ran into the house and called—trying to explain the impending disaster. One of my biggest fears was that the hundreds of gallons of water would go flying down the hill and hit the house where friends live and they also kept dogs outside in a pen.

A fire truck arrived with flashing lights and the sirens going on! The firemen got out and ran to the pool only to see it flatten right out and the water [A MIRACLE] went to the side of the backyard and ran down the hill missing the neighbor’s house and dogs. Course the firemen left, my husband was standing there staring at a flat pool and in a rage. “But the duct tape!” I reminded him. And that did no good at all; he had been taken financially—sure he knew it but never did admit it.

In all of my life, I had never seen an inanimate object full of water take on a life of its own till that incident. It is etched in my mind forever. Moral is that if you are going to buy a free-standing pool, never buy a used one that has any duct tape on it at all—anywhere! If you do, be prepared to call 911 and have hundreds of gallons of water descend to somewhere and hope it doesn’t hit any houses. What a disaster!

Sherry Hill

"CAN'T REPLY TO YOUR COMMENTS!"

To all of you readers who have left comments, I have to apologize. Thanks for your comments! Trust me I read yours and am working on  how to fix it so I can reply. If anyone else who has a blog knows how to fix this, it would be appreciated! Thanks. Meanwhile, know that I appreciate your comments!

Sherry Hill

"HYDRANGEAS"

"HYDRANGEAS"

I can't remember a time when I didn't love hydrangeas.  There was an elderly woman who lived near a relative of mine and she had the most glorious hydrangea bush right in front of her house:  It was breathtaking. I loved looking at the different colors--blue, purple and pink all swirled up into one huge cluster. Although young, I would always want to see that when I was at my relative's house. And I did. When I got really close to it, I could see that each blossom contained many little flowers all bundled up into one blossom--that made it even more special to me.

Somehow between then and becoming an adult, it never dawned on me to plant a hydrangea bush at all. Don't know why for I still had the love for it: I would drive by houses that had them in the front and be taken back to my first meeting with one and just stare to the point of almost wrecking! No newer houses ever had hydrangea bushes ever. Seemed to me that only old houses had them for they were in vogue a long time ago--maybe in the early 1900's.

A couple of years ago, I purchased four hydrangea bushes and planted them in my front yard. Was so excited. Put wire fencing around each one so that they would not be cut down by the man who mowed my lawn. Even went so far as to point each one out to him one day when he was here to mow my lawn, came inside and when he knocked on my door, I went outside to see what he had done. Lo and behold, he had mowed all four of those bushes down flatter than a fritter! I was livid. The conversation between him and me was not one for writing here but honestly I said to him "But I showed you where they were and they had fencing around them!" He just looked at me like I was from Mars.

Never had him mow my lawn again ever.

Last year I purchased four more hydrangea bushes and had a neighbor [who had a green thumb] to plant them for me. This time I didn't put fencing around each one but big rocks--really big rocks. Boulder type almost.

I have a wonderful woman who takes care of my yard --she mows, trims and is oh so careful with those hydrangea bushes. They have leaves on them now and I check them daily [should I? I do] and am crossing my fingers that each will grow big and be the colors of the very first one I ever saw--blue, purple and pink. I know they will at least be blue for that is the color of the blooms when my neighbor planted them last year.

Can't wait for them to get big: Not sure how long it takes for I didn't look online. Sort of afraid to find out that I am doing something wrong and by now I really don't want to know. Just hoping for I never forgot the first time I ever saw a hydrangea bush ever. And I want at least one out of the four to get huge.

Maybe I'll be lucky and have four of them.

Here's hoping!

Sherry Hill

"WHEN YOU HEARD YOUR FIRST AND MIDDLE NAME IT MEANT TROUBLE!"

WHEN YOU HEARD YOUR FIRST AND MIDDLE NAME IT MEANT TROUBLE!”

When your mother called you by your first and middle name together, you knew instantly that you were in trouble. Big trouble. Might have been the tone of her voice but more was using those two names together! My real first name is Sharon and my middle name is Lynn. When I heard my mother scream “Sharon Lynn!” I knew that trouble was looming as sure as the sun would come up!

From the age of three, I had the nickname “Sherry” but by age five and in the first grade, I had to go by Sharon. Did all the way through school and even to this day for technical reasons go by Sharon when I fill out a form or write an article—but not on my blog. To this very day, I don’t like my real first name for that very reason of being called “Sharon Lynn!” Must have heard my mother scream that hundreds of times together and I was not a bad kid—really I wasn’t. But the hangup is on my part for not liking my first name and that’s the reason why—trauma big time.

If your mother got mad at you and screamed your first and middle name at you, you know exactly what I am talking about—it makes you shudder. My two sons were never called by their first and middle name by me ever for that very reason. Maybe I should have for sometimes I forget their middle names and I chose them—that’s not good to forget that at all. Their names are Brian David and Kevin Michael—maybe they forget their middle names as well. Never asked them and definitely not going to ask. They would think I had gone over the edge.

If you have suffered the trauma of being called by your first and middle name by your mother when you were young and into your teenage years, welcome to the club. To this day, I still don’t like my first name. Do you?

Sherry Hill