Don't Know Who Started This Meme!

1.  Something people hate to find on their windshield?

A windshield chip.  Ouch!  Expensive.

2.  Something a man might buy before going on a date?

Gasoline.  Unless he wants to run out of gas somewhere romantic.

3.  Something you cook in the microwave.

Corn on the cob.  Cooks right in the husk.  It tastes so fresh!

4. An item found in an old man's wallet.

A Medicare card.  OR coupons for an IHOP breakfast 
                                     with other ROMEOs.

5.  Something always stocked in the fridge?

Beer, of course!  Also a new keg under the beer spigot.

This would be nice under Ella's tree.

6.  An item found in a Grandma's purse?

Pictures of her grand kids.  A phone with Southwest Airlines on  speed dial.

7.   Sport where you might lose a tooth.

Hockey.  Can't beat dem Canucks, eh?

8.  A fruit that isn't round?

Banana.  "Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me."

Is that a Cinnabon on your head?

9.  Something you put on a Christmas tree? 

Candy canes.  Unidentifiable things your kids made in kindergarten. 

10.  Name 5 people you think will do this.

This question seems out of date already, so how 'bout......

Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, the Lion, and Toto, too! 

Bonus Question

Something you really, really want this Christmas?

A good lab report on January 23, 2019. 

Message to the Quiet Ones

 

Another year has flown by, and a few of my fellow bloggers have reminded me that it is time for LOL day.  First, as I usually do, let me explain that I prefer to call this "Love our Learners" day.  The word "lurker" has such a furtive connotation, and I much prefer to call those of you who choose to remain quiet as "learners" - learners who are not ready to comment yet.  Still thinking about what you read.  Still trying to understand your need to read a blog such as mine.

So this day is dedicated to speaking to our silent visitors.  Many, many more of you come to read my posts than ever leave a comment.  In fact there is one source I have come across that says you represent 90% of my readers.  When I am writing, I think of all of you quite a bit.  I am honest in my writing for Ella Ever After.  The events you read here really happen to me.  I don't embellish the stories to make them more exciting.  It's just Sam and I and what happens as we live "This Thing We Do".

I love to answer the readers who leave comments.  It is my way of saying thank you for taking the time to write to me.  And I think you do deserve to be acknowledged.  I try to be prompt unless life slows me down.  As for me, it helps so much to read the comments.  If something I wrote speaks to you, I would like to know that.  Then I understand who my audience is, and it becomes part of my consciousness as I look for a way to tell the next story about our relationship.  What would you like me to write about?

Not Too Creepy :)

There's a big difference between reading an article and reading a blog.  Although an article might list the author, for the most part reading an article is sort of a lonely, impersonal undertaking.  You certainly are not invited to send the author a hello or ask a question.  Blogs are meant to be more friendly.  Someone with

whom you can relate.  I have a name and you know my husband's name.  You know all the little useless information that makes me seem more human.  I have too many shoes.  I love Shakespeare and beer.  I have a temper (that is so much better since I became close to a fellow blogger who advises "Always Be Kind" and lives it herself.)  See there, you can grow and be a better person when you take a chance on making a friend!
 

Maybe you are not sure what you could possibly contribute with your comment.  But you might have a really good question or something you thought I could have included in a post.  Maybe you have a little story or a few thoughts you think others would find interesting, but you do not have your own blog.  I would be happy to consider reading your thoughts and giving you a guest post opportunity.  There is definitely a "rush" to seeing your story online to share with others.

Have you ever had the experience of stopping at a favorite coffee shop, and the folks behind the counter know what you are going to order before you order it?  It feels so nice to be a "regular".  To feel like part of a group.  To feel welcomed and understood.  That's the way a blog should feel.  Like you are visiting a special friend.  I try to write that way.  So that you feel I care.


So let's have a cup of coffee together today.  I will make a big pot of my favorite roast.  The smell will waft over to where I am on the computer waiting for you to drop by.  I will pour us both steaming mugs, so we can sit and chat together.  Like friends that enjoy each other's company.  Nothing formal.  Just Ella and you. 


                            Hurry up.  Your coffee is getting cold.  

   

Lessons Learned - Veteran's Day, 2018

         

Over the years I have thanked many a veteran for their service and not just on November 11^th.  I have never been rebuffed for doing so.  Each and every man and woman has been gracious, and almost everyone has smiled back at me.  As a teacher I endeavored to instill this appreciation of the people who have served our nation through the military in my young students.  And again, every soldier to whom we sent pictures and letters or care packages wrote us back to tell the kids thanks and how much they enjoyed them.

As I started to think that Veteran’s Day this year was coming up soon, I realized that my perspective has changed considerably in the last year.  I began to volunteer at my local Veteran’s Administration (VA) and have learned that while all my past thank-you’s were sincere and well received, I have never really understood the depth of the man or the woman who stood before me.  Never knew the stories and memories they carried in their hearts.

This last year has been an awakening for me.  I knew I wanted to give back in some small way to veterans and more than just a verbal thank you or a handshake.  When I contacted the VA volunteer service in my city, I wasn’t sure in what direction I would go.  Now I know that the direction didn’t matter.  It was the journey and the people I would meet that would become important.

I am just one person, and the time I give at the VA only touches a handful of veterans.  I'll bet I know what you are thinking.  And if it is "how wonderful that she can give something back to these deserving folks," you are not even close.  It is I who should be the most grateful.  Getting to know these men and women as people has expanded my understanding of who they really are behind the faces, behind the laughter, and behind the tears.  I am in awe of each and every one of them.

For those who saw combat, the stories and memories they carry can be a heavy load.  Just because they have completed their tours of duty and taken off their uniforms doesn’t mean they get to pack away those horrors in an old duffel bag.  They carry that burden every day for the rest of their lives.  And even in their sleep the nightmares come to haunt them.  I have come to understand that their service to the rest of us doesn’t stop when they come home. 

I am a wiser person now.  For whatever I give of my time and effort, I receive so much in my own personal growth. The next time I thank a veteran for his or her service, I will know that they did not just show their bravery and dedication once upon a time.   

                   
                        They live their bravery every single day. 

The Work of an HOH is Never Done

 

On Fridays Sam and I get some housework out of the way, so that our weekends are free and clear.

• Ella does the bathrooms
• Sam does the vacuuming
• Ella does the laundry
• Sam does the grocery shopping

Now that I am retired and Sam is "sorta" retired, we like to tackle those tasks when Sam comes home about noon on Fridays.  Just get 'er done, as they say.

When Sam walked in the door last Friday, my arms were full of cleaning supplies, and I was heading to start on the front bathroom.  I did stop to give Sam a kiss, though.  With a smile, he started pulling each cleaning product from my arms and stacking them on the chest in the entry.  When I protested that I had not yet started my cleaning, he kissed me again and said,

"I think I need to do some dusting and polishing first."

"Oh, don't worry.  We don't need to dust this week, Hon," I corrected.  (As far as I am concerned, dusting is never really needed.")

"Oh, yes we do, Ells," he said with a grin.

Then Sam took my hand and led me to the bedroom.  As he unzipped my jeans, he teased me again,

"I feel I have been remiss in my household duties."

He sat on the bed and pulled me over one of his knees.  He continued talking, and his hand rested on my bottom for a few moments.  Then Sam told me it had been way too long since he had "dusted" my ass.  He laid into this chore with relish.  It was only his hand, but, oh my, he was dusting thoroughly!

After a bit, he did some lovely rubbing, too.

"Hmmm...thank you," I said dreamily.

"Well, I told you there would be polishing, too," and I could hear the smile in his voice, even if I couldn't see it.

"Oh, I like the polishing better."

"Too bad.  We have more dusting to do."

Well, he went back and forth between dusting and polishing at least 3 more times.  Can't imagine I ever told you that Sam was a sloppy man!  Believe me, Mr Clean couldn't have done a better job.  We spent a few minutes tangled up, but then Sam stood up and said he needed to get the vacuuming done.  Many Fridays he has a "guys only" lunch date at 1:00 pm.


Hmmph!  Thrown to the side for hot wings and beer.  I went to find all my bathroom products by the front door, and got started by cleaning mirrors.  Of course, I thought it would be nice to peek at Sam's handiwork on my bottom in the mirror.  Well done, mister.  Dusted and Polished.  You're work here is done.