Swept up about two dozen this morning, before I went to work at 8:00 a.m. Which was really not all that bad, but where do the dang things keep coming from? I picked up several more when I got home this afternoon: by putting down a small card, like recipe size, in front of one, right along the intended path, and the nearly brainless thing kept walking. So, of course, when it got mostly on the little card, I took it to the bathroom and made a deposit. But as soon as I could literally turn around, and walk six steps back to the kitchen: two more!
And there seems to be a crunchy, curled up one in every corner I look at. Anywhere two walls or kitchen cabinets run together to make a 90 degree angle, there is a little curly-cue rolled up, waiting for me to get the broom out. Which I do, every morning - but wonder how much longer this is going to go on?
I am very thankful from frequent afternoon showers that create enough rain I don't have to get out and water each day - but think that the high humidity/moisture level might be part of the reason they seem to reproduce endlessly. And while I am sweeping up dozens of millipedes each morning, there is the random little deceased rolly-polly, curled up in a miniscule sphere, looking like a prehistoric punctuation mark. Going into the water with the prolific millipedes, kayaking down the rapids of the Chattahoochee.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Saturday, June 29, 2013
everything I know about Publix...
Actually, everything anyone would want to know about the chain of supermarkets with just over 1,000 stores is to be found by Google-ing and reading wiki-pedia. Which is where I got most of my info., at least the part that has not been implanted firmly in my brain over the past fifteen years. What was that movie where the guy had to write all the hints/clues on his person with a sharpie (or did he get tatoo'ed?) after his short-term memory shorted out?? I do not have the Publix logo permanently inked on my person....
Anyway, in the process of trying to discover what the current price is for stock, I read much more than I ever wanted to know about the company. Started by Mr. George Jenkins, in WinterHaven FL, back in the early '30's and remarkably successful despite the ongoing financial crisis of a nationwide economic depression. Now all over the southeast, and just edging into North Carolina after spreading into GA, AL, SC and TN.
The company decided for itself (probably not really random, but we'uns are not privy to the reasoning of the Board of Directors) it would pay dividends semi-annually, beginning this year. So the funds all the stockholder/associates had come to expect in June, are now paid half in June and half at the end of the year.
I just got the June fund, and deposited it in the bank, due to having decided to no longer fritter it away. I am remarkably adept at frittering, but think I should start plowing it back into more stock instead. So I got the form and completed it, to purchase as much as I could with the dividend amount I received for the stock I already own.
And discovered that today is pretty much the last day of this time frame to purchase. So had to run to the store with my form and check to try to get my envelope on the truck that will deliver goods, and return to the warehouse tonight. The envelope has to be marked received by June 30, and it's too late to put in the USPS. So I hope it gets on the truck, and someone somewhere will stamp it 'received' tomorrow, so the company will accept my request and let me purchase more shares during the 'open window' for buying.
Oh - Company is completely employee owned, and stock is not traded on the stock exchange/open market. Only employees/associates and Board members can purchase/own; if you decide to sell, you have to offer it back to Publix.There are a gazillion shares out there - I have some that split 1-5 several years ago. Nine facilities scattered over the southeast that produce the Publix branded products - everything from baked goods to milk/ice cream.
Anyway, in the process of trying to discover what the current price is for stock, I read much more than I ever wanted to know about the company. Started by Mr. George Jenkins, in WinterHaven FL, back in the early '30's and remarkably successful despite the ongoing financial crisis of a nationwide economic depression. Now all over the southeast, and just edging into North Carolina after spreading into GA, AL, SC and TN.
The company decided for itself (probably not really random, but we'uns are not privy to the reasoning of the Board of Directors) it would pay dividends semi-annually, beginning this year. So the funds all the stockholder/associates had come to expect in June, are now paid half in June and half at the end of the year.
I just got the June fund, and deposited it in the bank, due to having decided to no longer fritter it away. I am remarkably adept at frittering, but think I should start plowing it back into more stock instead. So I got the form and completed it, to purchase as much as I could with the dividend amount I received for the stock I already own.
And discovered that today is pretty much the last day of this time frame to purchase. So had to run to the store with my form and check to try to get my envelope on the truck that will deliver goods, and return to the warehouse tonight. The envelope has to be marked received by June 30, and it's too late to put in the USPS. So I hope it gets on the truck, and someone somewhere will stamp it 'received' tomorrow, so the company will accept my request and let me purchase more shares during the 'open window' for buying.
Oh - Company is completely employee owned, and stock is not traded on the stock exchange/open market. Only employees/associates and Board members can purchase/own; if you decide to sell, you have to offer it back to Publix.There are a gazillion shares out there - I have some that split 1-5 several years ago. Nine facilities scattered over the southeast that produce the Publix branded products - everything from baked goods to milk/ice cream.
pot-luck dinner + memories...
I went with my friend P. to the monthly dinner we usually attend. It was at a large UMC Uptown. How I ended up with a dish to take is a story in itself, as it has been so long since I cooked anything I barely know the way around my own kitchen. I took mac-n-cheese, and she had a casserole that was mostly onions.
She said it was made from a recipe I gave her some time ago, so I must have cooked and took it to a potluck dinner at some point, and shared the 'how-to' part. Her proof as to the origin was that it was on an index card in my hand-writing: impossible to deny. Mac-n-cheese is so mundane, my casserole dish was not even empty when I went to retrieve it, but the dish she took with Vidalia Onion Pie was practically licked clean. I know because I went back for more and there was hardly a crumb left. I'm not even sure she would have had to wash it when she got home!
For some reason, she had the recipe with her, I guess to show me that it was not another we had talked about, that had rice listed as' the secret ingredient'. Several people stopped by our table and inquired about it - receiving the reply that it is so easy, you don't really need the written recipe to make it: just an idea of what to put together.
They wanted a copy nonetheless, so I said: let me write it down for you. I know what a sweet thing it is to be looking for a particular card in my file, and thumb through the frayed edges of so many index cards that have other people's handwriting on them. The group at my table immediately chimed in in full agreement, obviously being women who cherish the 'personal' quality of seeing handwriting from a specific individual when making a dish that has a certain sentiment attached. So I wrote the recipe for Vidalia Onion Pie out twice for people who wanted to have the particulars. And put my name and the date up in the right hand top corner, so when/if they make it, they will definitely think of me!
So, with a tip of the hat to the Pioneer Woman, here is the recipe:
Vidalia Onion Pie
1 cup saltine cracker crumbs + 1/4 c. melted oleo, mixed, used to line pie plate
3 cups or more of thinly sliced Vidalia onions + 2 Tablespoons oleo - saute till tender, spoon over crackers.
2eggs, 3/4 cup milk, salt and pepper to taste, mix well, pour over onions
1/4 cup shredded sharp cheese, sprinkle over top
Bake 350, about 45 min., Test with knife blade for doneness.
She made a much larger casserole, with lots more onions, but said the only other thing she increased was putting more cheese on top. With all the salt in the crackers, I'd go light on seasonings, just add pepper.
The really neat part is that the copy of the recipe I have on an index card in my file, came from my grandmother B. Sadly it is not in her handwriting, but I put her name on it when I copied, so I know whereof it originated.. And suspect she found it, many years ago, printed as the 'recipe of the week', in the Georgia Dept. of Ag. weekly newspaper: Market Bulletin.
She said it was made from a recipe I gave her some time ago, so I must have cooked and took it to a potluck dinner at some point, and shared the 'how-to' part. Her proof as to the origin was that it was on an index card in my hand-writing: impossible to deny. Mac-n-cheese is so mundane, my casserole dish was not even empty when I went to retrieve it, but the dish she took with Vidalia Onion Pie was practically licked clean. I know because I went back for more and there was hardly a crumb left. I'm not even sure she would have had to wash it when she got home!
For some reason, she had the recipe with her, I guess to show me that it was not another we had talked about, that had rice listed as' the secret ingredient'. Several people stopped by our table and inquired about it - receiving the reply that it is so easy, you don't really need the written recipe to make it: just an idea of what to put together.
They wanted a copy nonetheless, so I said: let me write it down for you. I know what a sweet thing it is to be looking for a particular card in my file, and thumb through the frayed edges of so many index cards that have other people's handwriting on them. The group at my table immediately chimed in in full agreement, obviously being women who cherish the 'personal' quality of seeing handwriting from a specific individual when making a dish that has a certain sentiment attached. So I wrote the recipe for Vidalia Onion Pie out twice for people who wanted to have the particulars. And put my name and the date up in the right hand top corner, so when/if they make it, they will definitely think of me!
So, with a tip of the hat to the Pioneer Woman, here is the recipe:
Vidalia Onion Pie
1 cup saltine cracker crumbs + 1/4 c. melted oleo, mixed, used to line pie plate
3 cups or more of thinly sliced Vidalia onions + 2 Tablespoons oleo - saute till tender, spoon over crackers.
2eggs, 3/4 cup milk, salt and pepper to taste, mix well, pour over onions
1/4 cup shredded sharp cheese, sprinkle over top
Bake 350, about 45 min., Test with knife blade for doneness.
She made a much larger casserole, with lots more onions, but said the only other thing she increased was putting more cheese on top. With all the salt in the crackers, I'd go light on seasonings, just add pepper.
The really neat part is that the copy of the recipe I have on an index card in my file, came from my grandmother B. Sadly it is not in her handwriting, but I put her name on it when I copied, so I know whereof it originated.. And suspect she found it, many years ago, printed as the 'recipe of the week', in the Georgia Dept. of Ag. weekly newspaper: Market Bulletin.
Millipedes....
The current invasion of things creeping across my kitchen floor numbers around four dozen. They have already been disposed of, thinking (if something that size can actually process info. to reach a conclusion?) they were signing up for Toad's Wild Ride, and surprised by ending up on the Titanic, sans iceberg, as they went swirling into the Great Beyond.
I'm still baffled, but seem to be coping fairly well. I mistookenly thought that the body count would be decreasing, but that appears to Not be the case. Now I am wondering if the weather is a factor, as we have had frequent showers here, with thunder-babies rolling in during the afternoons, and downpours accompanying all the stratospheric activity. Do they love to misbehave and multiply in the damp? Obviously! When you think of the outdoor environment in which they thrive - damp, dark, dank leaf mulch - as well as the bag of mulch I purchased to fill in the recently planted bed by the front door.
I'm still baffled, but seem to be coping fairly well. I mistookenly thought that the body count would be decreasing, but that appears to Not be the case. Now I am wondering if the weather is a factor, as we have had frequent showers here, with thunder-babies rolling in during the afternoons, and downpours accompanying all the stratospheric activity. Do they love to misbehave and multiply in the damp? Obviously! When you think of the outdoor environment in which they thrive - damp, dark, dank leaf mulch - as well as the bag of mulch I purchased to fill in the recently planted bed by the front door.
Friday, June 28, 2013
yeah... that's what we are...
I went to Walmart after dark, to exchange the kind of wet cat food they do not like, for the kind they do. They are highly opinionated, and expressed in no uncertain terms their concerns about me buying the wrong kind. It was completely unacceptable, and I stand corrected.
While I was there, I put another $20 on a card to go across the parking lot and buy gas for ten cents cheaper - and about fifteen cents cheaper than any place nearby. And about twenty cents cheaper than everything I saw when I drove to Valdosta and back this week.
When I was walking out of the store, and noticed: yet another person who deliberately got 'dressed up' in their sleepwear to go shopping, I had a little light bulb come on over my head. So I came straight home to let you know about my brilliance. I've been gnashing my teeth for months, if not years, observing people who go to the grocery store in pajamas, or most any other attire that makes me think "their mama don't know" what they are out in public looking line. I have yet to stop any of these people and actually accost them with the question: 'Does your mama know?', but find myself getting closer and closer to confronting. Probably only holding on to the thinnest thread of self-control, due to thinking of how thoroughly mortified my children would be, if I got arrested for making such a huge scene.
When I saw that girl, who was probably ten or twelve, she was actually with her family. Which means they apparently approved her shopping 'costume', consisting of one piece, full coverage, but skin-tight pajama outfit. Hopefully she had just sort of outgrown it? But I suddenly realized that I took my own personal family shopping in their pj's when they were small. They would take baths, get pajamas, or oversized T-shirt nighties, put on little homemade flannel bathrobes, with bears or cats, or trains printed all over. And we would go to the grocery store.
With the little orange and yellow plastic shopping carts, that had a basket just big enough to hold two cans of beans. It was a really big deal. And long before the era of wallyworld, to say nothing of this current 'style' (term very loosely applied) of wearing underwear for outerwear and sleepwear out in public. So there! Look how Fashion Forward we were twenty-five years ago... 'way out ahead of the curve! How cool is that?
While I was there, I put another $20 on a card to go across the parking lot and buy gas for ten cents cheaper - and about fifteen cents cheaper than any place nearby. And about twenty cents cheaper than everything I saw when I drove to Valdosta and back this week.
When I was walking out of the store, and noticed: yet another person who deliberately got 'dressed up' in their sleepwear to go shopping, I had a little light bulb come on over my head. So I came straight home to let you know about my brilliance. I've been gnashing my teeth for months, if not years, observing people who go to the grocery store in pajamas, or most any other attire that makes me think "their mama don't know" what they are out in public looking line. I have yet to stop any of these people and actually accost them with the question: 'Does your mama know?', but find myself getting closer and closer to confronting. Probably only holding on to the thinnest thread of self-control, due to thinking of how thoroughly mortified my children would be, if I got arrested for making such a huge scene.
When I saw that girl, who was probably ten or twelve, she was actually with her family. Which means they apparently approved her shopping 'costume', consisting of one piece, full coverage, but skin-tight pajama outfit. Hopefully she had just sort of outgrown it? But I suddenly realized that I took my own personal family shopping in their pj's when they were small. They would take baths, get pajamas, or oversized T-shirt nighties, put on little homemade flannel bathrobes, with bears or cats, or trains printed all over. And we would go to the grocery store.
With the little orange and yellow plastic shopping carts, that had a basket just big enough to hold two cans of beans. It was a really big deal. And long before the era of wallyworld, to say nothing of this current 'style' (term very loosely applied) of wearing underwear for outerwear and sleepwear out in public. So there! Look how Fashion Forward we were twenty-five years ago... 'way out ahead of the curve! How cool is that?
it was most 'disadvantageous'....
I'm not even sure that is a valid construction. I was pondering the subject matter, and thinking it might just be something I made up to accurately describe the circumstance... So I went to check with the overly wordy Thesaurus and discover that there are any number of excellent substitutes that can be used as replacements - all of which adequately provide enough understanding without you having had the actual experience. So...
I'd taken all the boxes that would easily cram into the back of my car, that seems to be used as a pick-up truck/hauler-arounder on a frequent basis. With a plan to go and start sorting through fifty years of accumulated toxins: agricultural chemicals, insecticides, fungicides, along with numerous cans, jar and bottles with no identifying marks half filled with suspicious, jelled substances. Plus lots of cans of paint of various sizes and colors, and sufficent solvents to clean up any mess they might make. An assortment of remedies for problems I have never even heard of....
It was my intention to bring all that misc. back here, so I could take it to the semi-annual recycling day for hazardous materials the city and a local non-profit sponsor. (They also will take prescription meds, and give to public safety officials, probably the DEA for disposing, on a periodic basis.) I got it boxed up, and put in my car... never thinking that inhaling deadly fumes confined to a small space could be hallucinigenic.(sp?). I had to ride all the way home for three hours with all my windows cracked open, and the air going to try to keep the toxic fumes at bay. Or at least keep them far enough behind my person that I would not be guilty of 'inhaling a controlled substance'...
I find that words like: untimely, awkward, inopportune, inconvenient, annoying, troublesome, and bothersome could all be applied - especially when I realize the boxes of 'bothersome' chemicals are sitting in the carport, fumigating the area there. Where they will be until I can find out when the next recycling event for haz-mat will occur and load the 'troublesome' assortment back into my car to dispose. We are nothing if not 'discommoded' by the rank odor of the stuff that must be some sort of insecticide. I unintentionally put my bag of personal stuff on top of that particular box when I was loading up to travel yesterday afternoon. And debated about stopping to gag any number of times on the drive.
So when I came in, not only was my person saturated with the 'annoying' odor, my bag was also. And I heard: 'What is That Awful Smell?' At first, I thought he was referring to Me! But eventually decided it was in reference to the aroma coming from my 'disadvantageous' travel supplies. We really need airing out.
I'd taken all the boxes that would easily cram into the back of my car, that seems to be used as a pick-up truck/hauler-arounder on a frequent basis. With a plan to go and start sorting through fifty years of accumulated toxins: agricultural chemicals, insecticides, fungicides, along with numerous cans, jar and bottles with no identifying marks half filled with suspicious, jelled substances. Plus lots of cans of paint of various sizes and colors, and sufficent solvents to clean up any mess they might make. An assortment of remedies for problems I have never even heard of....
It was my intention to bring all that misc. back here, so I could take it to the semi-annual recycling day for hazardous materials the city and a local non-profit sponsor. (They also will take prescription meds, and give to public safety officials, probably the DEA for disposing, on a periodic basis.) I got it boxed up, and put in my car... never thinking that inhaling deadly fumes confined to a small space could be hallucinigenic.(sp?). I had to ride all the way home for three hours with all my windows cracked open, and the air going to try to keep the toxic fumes at bay. Or at least keep them far enough behind my person that I would not be guilty of 'inhaling a controlled substance'...
I find that words like: untimely, awkward, inopportune, inconvenient, annoying, troublesome, and bothersome could all be applied - especially when I realize the boxes of 'bothersome' chemicals are sitting in the carport, fumigating the area there. Where they will be until I can find out when the next recycling event for haz-mat will occur and load the 'troublesome' assortment back into my car to dispose. We are nothing if not 'discommoded' by the rank odor of the stuff that must be some sort of insecticide. I unintentionally put my bag of personal stuff on top of that particular box when I was loading up to travel yesterday afternoon. And debated about stopping to gag any number of times on the drive.
So when I came in, not only was my person saturated with the 'annoying' odor, my bag was also. And I heard: 'What is That Awful Smell?' At first, I thought he was referring to Me! But eventually decided it was in reference to the aroma coming from my 'disadvantageous' travel supplies. We really need airing out.
Millipedes...
Missed a day of the Round-up on Thursday morning, but think I got caught up with a little broom work last night when I got home from s. GA. So I feel like I started with a clean slate/floor this morning - and was surprised to see over a dozen on the kitchen floor. Come to think of it: I am always surprised to see little wiggly things industriously making their way across the floor, baffled as to how a locked door does not seem to cause even the slightest hesitation. Which, I suppose, should be a lesson to us all about the liklihood of having a bad B & E experience when we so obliviously think we are safely tucked away in our homes. With only puny little locks and great espanses of thin, clean, transparent substances for protection, we foolishly think ourselves impervious to both the elements and greedy invaders.
About half of the little wriggly things had given up the ghost, so I had to get the broom out and try to sweep faster than the rest of them could crawl away in a dozen different directions. Noticing how amazingly fast all those wee legs can motivate - and how remarkably speedy they are at putting the whole thing in reverse. I can sweep a pile up in the dust pan, walk about eight steps to the bathroom, and shake them off, and by the time I walk back into the kitchen - a matter of several seconds - there will be six more, appearing like they are traveling in twelve directions.
If there are only a couple, I will get a piece of paper and put it down on the floor for them to walk on, and when I have two or three - the maximum I can handle without the broom to 'wrangle' them back from the edge, in the bowl they go. But as soon as I dump and return to the kitchen, they have somehow reproduced their busy little selves and there will be three more while my back is turned. The 'count' this morning started off at twelve and is now up to twenty. With the likelihood of going higher when I walk back down the hall. Fortunately they are not actual rabbits chewing the legs off the furniture... but they seem to have babies at about the same speed.
About half of the little wriggly things had given up the ghost, so I had to get the broom out and try to sweep faster than the rest of them could crawl away in a dozen different directions. Noticing how amazingly fast all those wee legs can motivate - and how remarkably speedy they are at putting the whole thing in reverse. I can sweep a pile up in the dust pan, walk about eight steps to the bathroom, and shake them off, and by the time I walk back into the kitchen - a matter of several seconds - there will be six more, appearing like they are traveling in twelve directions.
If there are only a couple, I will get a piece of paper and put it down on the floor for them to walk on, and when I have two or three - the maximum I can handle without the broom to 'wrangle' them back from the edge, in the bowl they go. But as soon as I dump and return to the kitchen, they have somehow reproduced their busy little selves and there will be three more while my back is turned. The 'count' this morning started off at twelve and is now up to twenty. With the likelihood of going higher when I walk back down the hall. Fortunately they are not actual rabbits chewing the legs off the furniture... but they seem to have babies at about the same speed.
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