It's All About the Journey

Today is your future. Live in the moment!

Milk Toast

Another “tidbit” from Memory Lane, is that old fashioned recipe, Milk Toast.  I did a little research on this one, “just checking” to see how my grandmother’s recipe held up.  Her recipe was as follows:  toast WHITE store bought bread, meanwhile heat just enough milk to cover the bottom of your saucepan, bring it to a simmer, turn off.   Ever so slightly butter the toast, I do a dash of salt as well, pour the milk over.  This recipe will cure what ails you.  Well, maybe it won’t, but it’s great comfort food, all the on line recipes and dictionaries agree, despite the recipes each being a little bit different.  Mark my words though, the next time you don’t feel good, try it.  Grandma will come into your heart and you will feel much better.

Here are a few links so you can see the variations of this recipe.  While you might be tempted to just glance at one, it is rather interesting to note them.  There are many more variations on the recipe.

So, next time you don’t feel good, whip up some milk toast and let Grandmother take over!  


(Ah, Grandma Doty just entered the doorway, and brought my milk toast…!


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Catchy and New

Enter your password.


That’s not your password.  (oh…)

Try again.

(computer screen shakes “no. That’s not it.”)

Wrack brain

What is it? What did I change it to?

Try again.

I have at least 5 different passwords rattling around inside my brain. Do you think that any one of them could be the right password?

I don’t think so.

Reset password

“Wait for the code on your SMS and punch into computer.”

Reset password.

Really?  Okay.


“You used that password recently, try again.”


“You can’t use that password, try again.”

Wrack brain. (Rack brain?)

How about this….

You have successfully reset your password, you may enter.

Write it down now.  Remember it, darn it.

Take it with you wherever you go so you can do your writing.


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Looking Back

There is a post on the Facebook page “Oxford, As It Was” and all of the “kids” are posting, posting pictures, stories, etc.  While I know I could post it there, I thought the story was worth sharing with my readers as well.

The year was, let’s see, I’m not really sure, I was either going into 1st grade or 2nd grade, so let’s say 1962 or 1963.  The children had taken the bus to North Pond for swimming lessons, I believe the final swimming lesson of the season.  I’m thinking it was a special day and perhaps it was a Saturday, this sticks in my mind.  

I didn’t like swimming lessons.  I am, by genetics, a sinker (yes, it’s true, some of us sink, some of us float buoyantly, and I just don’t, I struggle to keep my head above water).  My whole childhood was filled with a career of swimming lessons, never got past “beginner.”  From North Pond in Guilford to Kurt Beyer Pool in Norwich New York, my 1960s were about the beginner swimming lesson.  (Note here:  Swimming was required at SUNY Cobleskill and I was determined to pass, we were forced to pass, in order to join a regular physical education class.  I never learned how to swim, but I managed to backstroke the length of the pool to pass with a “C” and move on.)

Back to my story…

This particular summer day, our parents gave us instructions as to what to do after swimming lessons.  My sister was two years my elder (still is).  This was an afternoon session, and I believe there was a picnic or something involved.  All I can recall is that it was “special.”  Mom and Dad had just moved us to the little pea green house (and I mean CANNED peas, that dull green color) down on Route 12 (okay, that makes it much more specific, the summer of 1962).  They had errands to take care of for their new home.  I believe that they each directed us differently.  That’s where the trouble started…

One of them (no clue which one) told my sister to go to Gram’s, while the other told me to go to the school.  The bus stopped near Gram’s and my sister got off (no I did not see her get off).  I got off 2 blocks later at the school.  No sister.  No Mom and Dad.  I walked over to Gram’s.  No sister and Gram was not at home.  So I walked back to the school.  Still no sister.  I decided to walk home.  

Now, walking home was not a long walk.  Home was only 1 mile from the center of the village.  But when you are 6 years old, and alone, it can be a little bit overwhelming.  I walked down the highway, and I was just a little bit upset, I’m thinking.  I’m not sure if I was crying or not, I do not remember that, but I remember the straight, flat highway and seeing my pea green house “way down there.”  As I was walking down the Route 12 corridor, I passed the Esso station.  Mrs. Llaljer saw me walking down the road and heaven knows what she thought, she came running out and putting her arm around my shoulders and led me into the gas station.  

Now, the gas station was a wonderful place.  As time went on and we became older, we would frequent Llaljer’s gas station for popsicles, soda pop, and candy.  

Mrs. Llaljer asked me where I lived and I pointed to the little green house.  I told her I couldn’t find my sister and I needed to go home.  I do believe she got the whole story from me.  She offered me a piece of candy (my choice) and I said “no” because I knew that you should never take candy from a stranger.  Then she beckoned old Mr. Laljer (her husband) to run me home.  I was piled into the big old car, it might have been a station wagon, there was a pile of stuff in the back.  He tried to make small talk that less than half mile, but I don’t think I said very much.  I was a little leery, having accepted the ride (I don’t think I had much choice).  I made it home and told him that I was fine and he did pull out of the driveway, but I’m not sure if it was before or after my sister showed up.  Probably within 15 minutes or a half hour, our parents came home and heard the whole sordid story of how Kathy accepted a ride from a stranger and our misadventures in trying to find each other.  Mom went down to the gas station and got the story from the Laljer’s, and everything turned out just fine.



I’m guessing that this is circa 1962.


My Happy Plant

I left her in the laundry room, knowing I’d walk by daily and see whether or not she’d wilted. But I faced a dilemma when I moved upstairs because I wouldn’t pass the laundry room daily. So, I moved her upstairs. Who would’ve guess she loves the white noise from the fan and perked up. I put her in here, sad and down in the dumps, but just look at her now!


Taste and See

Belvita breakfast biscuits are my absolute favorite cookie these days. They have an uneven oatmeal crunch to them, and a sprinkle of sweetness across the top, and they look like large oversized Vienna cookies, without the sweet icing inbetween. It feels like a bonus to get 4 cookies in one serving. I know only two should really be enough, but they come 4/package and who can resist that?


Fwd: Ponderance

The following was sent as an email.  I enjoyed it so much, I felt that inward urgency to pass it along to you…


As I was lying around, pondering the problems of the world,
I realized that at my age I don’t really give a rat’s ass anymore.
… If walking is good for your health, the postman would be immortal.
… A whale swims all day, mainly eats fish, drinks water, but is still fat.
… A rabbit runs and hops and only lives 15 years, while
… A tortoise doesn’t run and does mostly nothing, yet it lives for 150 years.
And you tell me to exercise? I don’t think so.

Just grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked,
the good fortune to remember the ones I do, and the
eyesight to tell the difference.

Now that I’m older here’s what I’ve discovered:
1. I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.
2. My wild oats are mostly enjoyed with prunes and all-bran.
3. I finally got my head together, and now my body is falling apart.
4. Funny, I don’t remember being absent-minded.
5. Funny, I don’t remember being absent-minded.
6. If all is not lost, then where the hell is it?
7. It was a whole lot easier to get older, than to get wiser.
8. Some days, you’re the top dog; some days you’re the hydrant.
9. I wish the buck really did stop here; I sure could use a few of them.
10. Kids in the back seat cause accidents.
11. Accidents in the back seat cause kids.
12. It’s hard to make a comeback when you haven’t been anywhere.
13. The world only beats a path to your door when you’re in the bathroom.
14. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he’d have put them on my knees.
15. When I’m finally holding all the right cards, everyone wants to play chess.
16. It’s not hard to meet expenses . . . they’re everywhere.
17. The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.
18. These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter . . . I go somewhere to get something, and then wonder what I’m “here after”.
19. Funny, I don’t remember being absent-minded.