Chocolate Chip Cookies...Reminds Me Of Mom

If you were to ask my high school friends what they remember about my mom, they say her chocolate chip cookies. My mom was always making chocolate chip cookies. In fact, when we cleaned out her home after she passed, we found literally dozens of Nestle Toll House Cookie wrappers...she kept them for the recipe.

And she always made them.

I don't think I realized at the time just how many she used to make. That's probably because it was just a given--we always had homemade cookies around. Now that I look back on it, I think she did it because she knew my friends liked them. The older I get the more I understand my mom, which is a shame because I can't talk to her about it or ask her if she made the cookies because she knew my friends loved them and she wanted to make our house be inviting to everyone.

This past week my wife made a batch of cookies. They weren't Toll House (she uses a different recipe...), but they're as good if not better (sorry, mom...). It reminded me of my mom. It also reminded me of how my friends used to love coming over and hanging out at the house, listening to RUSH upstairs on the speakers my dad made, or being in the party basement watching VHS videos.

I had a great childhood.

The cookies were yet another reason why.

Hoping For Fresh Snowballs For Memorial Day...

 Decades ago my mom planted a snowball bush near my childhood home. She planted it next to a rain gutter outlet where, not only did it get water from the sprinklers, but received a healthy dose of water every time it rained.

When we built a house across the street, we did the same thing, planted a snowball bush where the rain water flowed. It flourished. When we moved a few years ago, we had to put in a yard. One thing we wanted was to do the same thing my mom did, the same thing we did.

So, that's what we ended up doing.

Last year we found a tiny plant and dug a hole at the base of a rain gutter outlet. This spring, we're seeing some tiny snowballs.

Each spring the snowballs at the old house were so beautiful, huge, white, incredible. We always hoped they would last until the end of May so we could cut off some of the snowballs and put them on my parent's gravestone. Almost every year, the didn't make it. If you know anything about the snowball bushes, the snowballs are very fragile. A light breeze could destroy them. We even tried when they bloomed late in the spring to take some to the cemetery. We ended up with a car full of white pedals.

We live at a little higher latitude now. Things progress a little slower up here. I'm hoping that these little snowballs will last until the end of May so we can take them with us. It might happen, it might now. At least we can say we tried.

Here's hoping.

It May Not Be Changing The Time On A VCR...But It's Close

 The old joke went something like this, "You're so old, you can't even stop the flashing 12:00 on your VCR." That joke's so old, it's never heard anymore. Why? Because almost no one has/uses a VCR machine nowadays. Like a rotary phone, a child born in this century most like has never seen one, let alone how to use it (although, the rotary phone seems like it would be self explanatory, then again...). 

Case in point, my youngest's digital wristwatch.

We bought this thing for him years ago and it refuses to die. He's been on a construction site for the past year and the thing just keeps on ticking, though it's not a Timex (another old joke many might not get...). When you use a timepiece for any length of time, it will need to be adjusted.

That's where I come in. 

I've been called in to re-set the clock at least twice a year, when the clocks are also re-set. The other day my son brought me the watch and said something happened and it needed to be re-set. I know this is something he can do, something he can learn, but I grew up with these things. Re-setting them is second nature. Plus, it's nice to be asked to help out.

I have no idea when this thing will stop working all together, maybe next month, maybe never. And as long as I'm around, I'll be glad to fix it for him. 

I also remember how to set the clock on a VCR...

If anyone needs that, just let me know.

This Year's Writers Cantina Conference...Is Only Nine Weeks Away

With longer days and warmer temperatures, it means one thing..

Actually, it means lots of things, but one of the things it means is that Utah's newest and awesomest writing conference is only two months and one week away. It's called the Writers Cantina Writing Conference and it takes place June 28-29, 2024 in West Valley City, Utah. You can get all the information on the event by clicking: HERE.

If you're a writer in the Intermountain West, or if you live farther away and you want to learn the basics as well as some of the finer points of how to become a better writer, I think this conference has something for you. We're trying to make an event where you can feel comfortable at whatever level you're at, be it a bestseller or a newbie.

The event began last year. It was only one day--since it was our first conference, we had no idea how it would go. We felt it was such a success so we doubled the time this year. Double the time, double the fun and learning. 

Before covid it seemed I could go to a different writing conference in Utah almost every month. We're slowly returning to those good old days. If you're in the area and you'd like to check us out, or if you came last year and would like to return, go to the website, register, and we'll see you in nine short weeks.

Sometimes...It's What You Don't See

 This is a picture I texted to my wife a few days ago. It's the front of a crock pot set to cook for ten hours, or, in other words, on low.

There's other things to see in this picture. There's a few remnants of past meals...this particular crock pot has been in the family for years. I don't know the life span of your average crock pot, but this one just keeps on cooking. 

Of course, there's things you don't see.

I took the picture and sent it because I was asked to do a favor. Since I work at home and my wife was away and wouldn't be back in time, she texted me and asked if I'd put a pre-prepared meal in the crock pot and set the timer for ten hours. It's a simple act, I know. But again, life is full of simple things. In fact, most of life is the small, simple things. We go on vacations every five years or so, which leaves all the days in between full of non-vacation days. 

I saw the picture in my photo library and it reminded me of the request, of the action, of the give-and-take that has kept us together for more than three decades. 

It's sometimes what you don't see that is the biggest story.

Give Thanks...Living In A Small Town

 Of course, this post could be put in almost any town. People all over the world own goats, from the smallest hamlets to the largest cities, someone's got a goat. And when people have goats, occasionally, a goat may end up missing.

I love living in a small town.

Since moving, I've seen other posts on social media--mostly Facebook because their posts can be so well targeted to a specific area--similar to this one. "Hey...whoever is missing horses in Garland, we saw three walking down Factory street headed east."

An don't get me started on missing cats and dogs.

That's almost a daily, no hourly occurrence. So much so, I often wonder if some caring and well-meaning citizen spots an animal in its own yard, snaps a picture, and wonders if anyone's lost a small brown and black terrier near the library or by the tennis courts. I'm sure it happens, and to their credit, it's better to be over-cautious then to "hope" the animal is safe and sound.

When it comes down to it, it's all about caring for others, for your neighbor, be they missing goats, horses, cats, dogs, or even turtles (have yet to see a missing fish post, but you never know...). I'm thankful to live in an area where people are looking our for each other, treating others as they would like to be treated themselves, mostly.

I'm good friends with someone who grew up in the valley to the east. His and my childhood were similar. We grew up in small towns, before the big towns swallowed up the suburbs. He lives in Salt Lake now, and he asked me how we liked living up here. I told him I loved living in a small town. He said he remembered living in a small town and he's glad he's no longer there.

I'm glad he's happy. I'm glad we're happy, too.

Sent This Meme To My 40-Something Friend...He Didn't Get It

 The other day I texted the above meme to my friend, Steve. On any given day either he or I will send a meme or two across the digital highway. Sometime I send more, sometimes it's Steve. It's mostly harmless...memes about work, the government, current events, hipsters. Rarely is the humor not understood, but every once in a while, you'll get a different reaction.

I can't speak for everyone, of course, but when I find a meme I think is funny and want to share, rarely do I consider the person to whom I'm sending the meme will not understand. This time, he didn't.

Yes, my friend did not get the meme. This surprised me. He's a least a decade younger than me, but I thought the reference--even though it's from 1976--was fairly universally known. The Wild Cherry hit has been used in advertising, in films, TV shows. 

I guess my friend didn't see those ads, those films, those TV shows. 

Growing up in the 70s and 80s, many of the cultural references were understood by pretty much everyone. We all watched network TV shows, even though cable was a thing during that time. Up until the internet became a household medium, most Americans listened to the same music, watched the same shows.

In 1976, America turned 200 years old. It was an Olympic year in Canada and Austria. I entered my second decade. Wild Cherry released Play That Funky Music White Boy, My friend wasn't born.

Still...

I thought he'd get it. It's a pretty good meme.