Wolferman's

Shortly after I graduated from high school, the company my dad worked for moved from North Kansas City to Blue Springs, Missouri .  Since I didn't drive, I decided to get an apartment close to the city bus line, so I could keep my job at National Bellas Hess (a low-class mail-order company).  I couldn't afford much, since I made minimum wage.  My aunt had recently vacated a two-room kitchenette rented from some church folks my parents knew, and I took that.  I believe the rent was $45 a month.  My paycheck was under $40 a week at the time.

In order to take the bus from my apartment in the "Little Italy" section of Kansas City on East Eleventh Street, and arrive in North Kansas City, I had to transfer busses; I'd get off one bus and wait for 10 or 15 minutes for the next bus to come along.

At night, if I had any energy left, I'd sometimes window-shop downtown when I got off my first bus, catching a later bus home.  There was the Jones Store, Kresge's, Emery, Bird, and Thayer, Woolworth... Downtown was a glorious wonderland, especially during the Christmas season.  Windows were adorned with animated Christmas figures, music filled the air.  It was a real, live illustration of the song, "Silver Bells".

I seldom had any extra money, but one of the places I loved to browse was Wolferman's.  They had pricey gourmet food items I'd never heard of, and I'd spend a half-hour sometimes, just reading lables.  Sometimes I'd treat myself to a tiny jar of some exotic flavor of jam or preserves, and feel quite pampered.

I miss Kansas City's old downtown; malls don't capture the flavor of Christmas in the same way; or maybe it's just that times have changed.  Or people.

Because I don't drive

I have never had a driver's license; this has been somewhat a strain on Cliff's love for me, since it requires his taking me to the grocery store, to the doctor, and other necessary places.  But after almost forty years, he's used to it.  He makes sure he has some reading material along to make the time pass faster while he waits for me.

Throughout the years, I've often been asked, "What will you do if something happens to Cliff?"

In the last ten years or so, I've come up with an answer, and it is, indeed, my plan, should Cliff die before I do:  I'll sell this place and everything on it and move to senior citizen housing in a town fifteen miles from here.  The apartments there are close to the grocery store and the library, and there are plenty of churches I could attend.  My doctor's office is there.  I'd have my computer, and I'd be fine.

Once I had decided on this plan, I worried no more; and I had an answer for that inevitable question everyone asks when they find out I don't drive.

However, last weekend I found out Cliff's younger sister doesn't like this plan.  She's sure I'd be miserable without my cabin and the horse, and my country home.  She doesn't realize that without Cliff, this place would mean nothing to me... not to mention the fact that it would go back to brush and weeds, which is how much of it was when we acquired it.  It takes a lot of money for upkeep on a farm, even a hobby farm.  Money a widow wouldn't have.

I lived in apartments in Kansas City for over three years, between my graduation and my marriage.  I was content, except I wished for someone to love me.  But I don't mind living in the city, or a small town, or any environment, really.  There are pretty sunrises and sunsets anywhere you go.

Back to Cliff's sister:  she and her husband live in a house on an acreage in the country, and she has decided I must move in with them, should poor Cliff die first (he was listening to all this, and getting rather distressed that we were making plans for his untimely demise).  She refuses to see me living in a cramped-up apartment in town.

There are a couple of things wrong with her idea:  First of all, the only way I'd get along with anyone living in the same house is if I had my own seperate quarters;  I'm a slob, and I need my space.  But here's the kicker:  Charlene, although she's fourteen years younger than I am, has severe asthma.  She barely makes it through each winter.  If I were a betting person, I'd wager that I'll outlive her.

But you know, it makes me feel good that someone is that concerned about me.

Meanwhile, Cliff wonders what everyone knows that he doesn't, since we all seem to be forseeing his death.

Weekend Assignment

Weekend Assignment #89: What I Really Want

Tis the season to get a little crazy with the wishes:

Weekend Assignment #89: Money is no object: What do you really want for Christmas/Hanukkah/The Seasonal Celebration of Your Choice? Shoot for the moon, here folks. Share the thing you'd want to get if everyone you knew was a billionaire and wanted to spend money on you. One caveat: Don't ask to get celebrities of other people for the purposes of, well, you know. We're trying to keep things PG around here. Also: wishing for world peace is all very nice, but come on. Treat yourself.

I want a different house.  Ideally, I'd like a brand new house, not too big, and all on one level.  Three bedrooms and two baths would be perfect, with a big kitchen and living room.  No den, please.  I want a basement, but the laundry needs to be upstairs. 

Extra Credit: Seriously, what would you do if someone got you that thing?

I'm not real emotional, but I'd probably cry, and then cook them a big meal.

If you'd like to do this assignment, copy and paste the questions, answer them, then leave the link to that entry in the comment section at John Scalzi's journal, so people can discover you.

 

I've been tagged!

I guess this is the latest thing going around the journals:  I've been tagged by Deslily.

Name 10 things that make you happy (in no particular order) and then tag 5 people to do the same.

1.  sunrises and sunsets

2.  holding babies

3.  camping

4.  riding the motorcycle with Cliff

5.  watching the silly dogs play

6.  riding my horse

7.  going to Church

8.  being in the Rocky Mountains

9.  puppy kisses

10.  keeping caught up with the bills.

I'm not going to tag anyone, but if you read this and want to do it, either answer in the comment section or in your journal... and let me know, so I can read it.

(Oh, and for those who wanted the potato cake recipe, I added it to my previous entry.)

potato cakes for dinner

Since Monica and Natalie were here today for dinner (our noon meal) I figured this was a good time to get rid of the leftover mashed potatoes from last Saturday.  I told the girls we were having pork cutlets, corn, and potato cakes. 

"What's that?" Monica asked.

"You girls never had potato cakes?"

They both assured me they had not.

Usually when I spring something new on them, I tell them they can take a small bite to make sure they like it, before I serve them a helping of it.  But this was one food I knew they'd love, and I told them so.  They took me at my word, and ate with gusto.

Of course, their grandpa talked them into ruining the true flavor with tons of ketchup, but they did like their potato cakes:  so much so that there wasn't a crumb left.

edited to add recipe for those who asked:

I really don't use a recipe, but here's one I found on the Internet that is very much like mine.

Easy Potato Cakes

* 2 cups leftover mashed potatoes
* 1/4 cup finely chopped onion
* 1 egg, beaten                    1/3 cup flour
* 1 teaspoon salt
* dash pepper

 Add onions to mashed potatoes. Mix in the beaten egg, flour, salt, and pepper. Shape into patties. Melt Crisco in skillet over medium low heat; brown patties until cooked and browned on both sides.

Fun in the snow

Here are some pictures of our beautiful 8 inches or so of snow.  We're all enjoying it to the fullest.

one more snow picture

The granddaughters with Anna, next door.  Natalie is eating snow.  Oh by the way, school has been cancelled tomorrow.