Winter Cold

I do so like green eggs and ham. Thank you, thank you, Sam I am.
-- Dr. Seuss

Winter came back while I was sleeping Monday night. The bitter wind picked me up and shooed me into the office. It was mid-morning before I realized my case of the chills was actually a fever. I thought I’d prop myself up with the stash of cold meds in my desk drawer but I was far enough gone to require more drastic measures. Its been a long time since I have been bedridden with a cold.

This is my second day with the grueling schedule of fluids and rest. Being sick has made me rather grateful for small things: two pillows instead of one, cherry flavored lozenges, warm blankets, epsom salts, and hot showers. Naomi took her shoes off before she peeked in to see me last night. She was curious if I was awake and, finding my eyes open, climbed into bed to read me a book.

With enough creature comforts, and pleasant company this cold doesn't stand a chance.

Creatively Cooking the Books

Let my words, like vegetables, be tender and sweet, for tomorrow I may have to eat them. (Anonymous)

Naomi has a passion for cooking. If not a practiced chef, she is an inspired one. So, Saturday night, as Brent and I were making soup for dinner I was not too surprised to glance over and find Naomi dicing the yellow pepper from the refrigerator.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked.

“Making a healthy salad,” she said with a dramatic fluffing of the back of her skirt as she enveloped the chair. Its a gesture only slightly less dramatic than that of a peacock. “I’ll eat it for dinner.” I knew this was one of those teachable moments I would later feel guilty about missing. We could use that idea of a healthy salad to talk about different types of vegetables, vitamins and nutrients. But I was busy making this soup and she was occupied pleasantly enough; so I shrugged and decided to let well enough alone.

About 15 minutes later, as Brent found the soup ladle, I looked over to assess the Naomi’s self proclaimed healthy salad. My mind had a thematic sense of what to expect based on some of her previous culinary efforts such as: Cheezit-apple salad, chocolate milk with applejacks, and peanutbutter-vegetable soup. So, like any good parent, I placed my hand over my face to mask any wincing the contents of this salad bowl might inspire. To my surprise Naomi had selected yellow pepper, carrots, raisins, and cheese for the salad. I stood in awe of whatever magic inspired my daughter to pull together a salad that was both healthy and delicious. As we sat down to dinner Brent and I were quick to echo with a “here, here” as Naomi offered up a toast to her own latest and greatest culinary creation.

Cheers.

I have this mind block when it comes to money. I don’t think of myself as a stupid person but financial matters hit some weird, dark place inside my brain. Tackling each financial decision (spending rates, mortgages, educational savings accounts, etc) on its own I can grasp the essentials. My problem arrives with the shell game bankers, investors or essentially anyone in a suit who sounds smart can convince me is a good financial idea. We’ve all heard variations on the same shell-game schpeel: borrow against your 401(k) to pay off credit cards, fund your kid’s college years with a signature loan, take the trip of a lifetime to someplace warm and tropical with your hard earned home equity, etc.

I’ve always treated my financial blind-spot as something a kin to toe-fungus. Something I would never speak of in polite company because all that embarrassment can be easily avoided by a good pair of socks.

So, why would I blog about finances or toe-fungus for that matter? My financial cluelessness has just become my claim to fame. I called Chris Farrell of National Public Radio (NPR) Marketplace Money , a weekend financial advice program, to give me the low-down on my latest money question. Chris is one of those super smart guys I listen to on a regular basis because: (a) he isn’t trying to sell me something; and (b) he can often help me navigate through financial landscapes. Marketplace Money airs each weekend and I’ll be the dippy Midwesterner with a call-in question for the Jan. 11-13 show depending on your local NPR listings. For those of us in Lincoln its on from 3-4 pm on Saturday.

Urban Rooster

Rooster today, feather-duster tomorrow
Russian Proverb

About a week ago I was sleeping in. As anyone with small children can attest sleeping in happens rarely so it's a rather memorable occasion. I rolled over and readjusted the blankets when, from a distant space, my sleepy mind thought it heard a rooster proclaim the dawn. We live in the heart of Lincoln so our house is not on the outskirts of town. My bedroom window doesn't jut up against a feed lot or anything so, at thought of a rooster caw waking me up I giggled, buried my head under the covers, and went back to sleep.

This morning I was not in such good humor as I heard the rooster caw (again) at 6:30 a.m. I laid there listening to another three or four caws, and finally nudged my husband...

"Babe, do we have a rooster living in our neighborhood?"

"Mmmmm-huh,"groaned Brent, who was still drooling into his pillow, "two doors down."

I didn't know whether to die of laughter or stew in indignation. I chose the latter and looked up the animal control regs. Whenever I'm on an angry tirade I love the internet because, somewhere there is a justification for my anger and its just a few clicks of a button away. After about twenty minutes of searching I found Chapter 6 Section 04.040 of the Lincoln Municipal Code Pigeons, Small Animal and Fowl Permit Requirements. I blinked at the screen in disbelief. Long story short: my neighbor can house as many as three roosters on his tiny square mid-town lot. I re-assessed the rage v. laughter responses to the situation. I live next to an urban rooster and I, when I'm not trying to sleep, think its pretty funny.

_____________________

Happy New Year! As Brent, Naomi and I rang in 2008 we made several new year's resolutions. Many of them are already broken but among the still feasible bunch I wanted to write more often and to keep in closer contact with my friends and family.