The Tax Man Cometh.....

Every year at this time, we devote time to preparing our taxes. But not just our taxes. In February, when we visit our college-going son in California, one of the chores during our stay is to help him get his taxes done. Since he works as an "independent contractor", he has to manage his own taxes all year long, paying estimated payments to the government every quarter....a lot to expect from a college guy. He does well with that, but for the last two years, he's also had to pay more tax in April on top of his quarterly estimated payment that's also due then. At his age, it all seems incredibly unfair. He wants to keep his money, not give it to the government.

Hubby and I spent a weekend doing our taxes a couple of weeks ago. The government wants more from us this year too and although I understand that we owe that money and it's not really "unfair", there is a little sting to the fact that we can't use that money for something more fun. Since we owe taxes, we haven't actually filed yet. We won't do that till April 17th, getting two extra days this year to hold onto our money! But now Hubby's company has amended his W-2 form. Apparently, since Hubby worked for the same company but worked in three different states in 2006, they mis-reported some of his income. Now we wait to receive that new W-2 form to find out if we owe more money, or perhaps (could it be possible??) that maybe we don't owe as much. Of course, we've already spent the fee for our on-line tax preparation program and now have to start all over again, and pay that fee again, not to mention that we need to find another weekend in the next month to sit and write the taxes again.

But, then there are the happy tax stories. Yesterday, our daughter and future son-in-law came over after church for their annual "do the taxes" day. They sat side-by-side with dueling laptops, while Hubby sat in the middle offering advice and suggestions. This year they will both receive nice little refunds and both were very happy at the end of the process. To them, doing the taxes means they can afford a new washer and dryer for their anticipated new home and have some money left over to put toward their honeymoon. We celebrated with a nice dinner, a good bottle of wine, and happy conversation about their future.

And so, the tax man cometh, bringing different news to all of us. Some look forward to his arrival and others dread it. But in the end, we have to remember the benefits of the taxes we pay, and feel grateful to live in a place where our taxes offer us such a good life.

Laundry Lady

I promised I would post a picture so here it is. My new washer and dryer are here, and besides being quite the color, they are also so efficient and wonderfully quiet. It's a bit unusual to watch your undies go around through the glass door, but it's certainly made doing the laundry much more fun. My wash dries in only 45 minutes, such an improvement over the hour and a half it took the old machine. The new washer feels like a space ship taking off when it spins on the highest cycle and it holds such large loads! I gave Hubby the grand tour and a brief lesson on the care and feeding of such wonderful machines. I wouldn't want him to live his life in dirty clothes should something happen to me! He seemed somewhat interested. I've also found myself wondering what more I can launder. I've stripped the bed, washed all the towels, plus all the clothes....next I'll do all the door and bath mats in the house. I wonder how long this new novelty will last and when washing clothes will go back to being the same old drudgery it used to be?

Disasters in the Kitchen

I often "experiment" with new recipes when we have company. Occasionally a recipe will turn out "okay" but not be really worth repeating. Sometimes, I hit on one that is a real "keeper" and it's made over and over again. Then there are those that are sheer and total disasters! Thankfully, I haven't had too many of those over the years.

On Friday evening, we were having good friends over for dinner. I tried a new chicken dish which was very good, a new appetizer that was time-consuming but worth a place in the recipe file, but then there was the dessert. I had seen this recipe for "Tunnel of Fudge Cake" in the newspaper just prior to Valentine's Day. It was the second place winner in the Pillsbury Bake-Off in 1966, and came with a strict warning: do not overbake, adhere to the exact baking times and check your oven's temperature to make sure it's accurate. So, after blending together almost a pound of butter, six eggs, confectioner's sugar, granulated sugar, flour, 3/4 cup of cocoa, and 2 cups of walnuts, I poured the batter into a well-floured bundt pan.


After double-checking the oven temp and baking the cake the required 50 minutes, I removed it from the oven for the hour and a half of cooling time. I finally turned the cake out of the pan onto my beautiful pedestal cake plate and reveled in my efforts. I turned to the refrigerator to get out milk to make the chocolate glaze and when I turned back, I was horrified to see the following sight:


I blinked and looked again....still the same disaster stared back at me. My beautiful bundt cake had collapsed in a heap!!


Obviously, the tunnel of fudge had not baked long enough and the cake didn't have thick enough walls to support itself. But all I could do was laugh!! I picked up the phone and called Hubby who was on his way home from work. "Help!", I said. "Stop at the bakery on your way home and pick up anything that looks good, your choice!" He chose a wonderful chocolate mousse cake and was home ten minutes before our company rang the bell. I did save the disaster for them to see (they are wonderful friends, after all) and we all had a good giggle over my certified disaster.

I think in times gone by, I would have be reduced to tears over such a calamity, but this has made a good story, and a good blog post.

Another Honey-Do Project

We are getting a new washer and dryer on Thursday. Our 12-year-old washer is on its last legs, making horrible banging noises on the spin cycle, so we decided it was time to purchase a new machine, a front-loader this time. They are so much more efficient and use much less water so they are environmentally friendly. We must do our part, I reasoned. Now, being one to like order and symmetry, that meant that the dryer needs to match the washer, so Hubby and I went shopping for the pair. We picked out a lovely set, but alas, they were out of stock in white, so the salesman offered us a RED pair for the same price. Well, also being one who loves the color RED, I jumped at that chance. I wouldn't have paid extra for the color, but if it's free, why not? And in ten years, when the color is horribly out-dated, they will be safely hidden away behind closed doors where no one will see them except me. In the meantime, I'll get to enjoy doing laundry for a little while. (Is that possible??)


So, here are the soon-to-be-replaced pair. Yesterday, we hauled them out of their little space, and did a good cleaning behind them.....oh, things do accumulate and get lost back there. But then I had a wonderful little project for Hubby. I thought we should replace the venting hose that goes from the dryer to the outside world. After all this time, it certainly must have been clogged with lint and that would be such a fire hazard. It sounded reasonable to Hubby, so after two trips to the hardware store we had everything we needed to do the job.


Not so easy. The old vinyl flexible hose snakes down behind the dryer, through the floor and runs above the dropped ceiling in our finished basement. Ceiling tiles had to be moved, the new metal flexible hose (now "code") isn't nearly as easy to bend and twist around the rafters, and Hubby was having a terrible time, sneezing all the while, as all the dust he was stirring up was certainly not good for his dust allergies. Try as I might to sound supportive, he knew this was my idea!



Finally we got the hose to the unfinished part of the basement, where it had to coil out from above the finished ceiling, under the rafters, around the drainage pipes, and finally be attached to the outside vent. But of course, the vent is in a corner, behind the extra refrigerator, and above a lot of stored things, like a mattress and box spring and an old bureau. It was not easy to get to, and Hubby was still sneezing and blowing and snorting.....not one of his more favorite projects in recent memory. Meanwhile, I was busy taking his photo which made him inquire as to what in the hoo-ha I was doing that for. "This will make a good blog entry", I explained. "Great!", he sneezed.

Later in the week, I will post a photo of the new RED washer and dryer. I can't wait for them to be delivered. I've declared all laundry done until that time, I've given my daughter my big box of laundry detergent as the new model takes high efficiency detergent, and we've wrapped up the old appliances ready for them to be hauled away. There are times in a woman's life that are milestones....one of them is when she gets a new washer and dryer. Wheeeeeee!!!!

My New Profile Photo

I've decided that it's time for a new profile photo. The last one, of the Passingham ancestors, was a wee bit small and difficult to see. This one is of my Grandad holding me when I am about 15 months old. Grandad was an interesting man.....rather quiet, so different from my father even though the two of them were so physically alike. Grandad kept chickens and I remember this very early memory so well. I loved to help him feed the chickens but I didn't like it when he chopped their heads off in preparation for them becoming the day's meal. He and I spent hours with the chickens but once back indoors, I worried him constantly to go outside to see them again.

Grandad rolled his own cigarettes, as many in England did back then. I would watch him carefully lie a small amount of tobacco on the paper, then roll it up and he would lick the edge of the paper to make it stick. Although I didn't like the smell of the lit cigarettes, I did love the smell of the tobacco in its tin. He gave me an empty tin at one time and I saved all my English coins in it. Everytime I opened it to see the coins, I remembered him because of the smell of the tin. I still have that tin.

Grandad had a younger brother who also had the same name as he did. They were both named George James Carter, but Grandad was called George and his brother was called James. I've often wondered why my great-grandparents used the same name twice, but perhaps with twelve children, it was hard to be creative. They also later had two more boys, one of whom they named Albert and the other Bertie. I should think it lent itself to confusion as to who was who, because it certainly did for me when I researched my grandfather's siblings.

Grandad loved apples and he would take a large knife and cut them in sections while holding the apple in his hand. He would carve me off a section and we would share the apple together, making the kind of conversation that only a grandfather and granddaughter can have. My times with him were rare because from the time I was four until his death, he lived in England and I in the U.S., but I think of him fondly and remember him for the patience he showed to a little girl who loved him.

Little Tiny Hands

Recently, I re-discovered some old papers, cards, and pictures made by my children. Many of their creations were put into "memory boxes" and when the boxes were full, they would be stored in the attic, appropriately labeled with their name and the dates. We delivered our older son's memory boxes to him in North Carolina when he finally had an attic of his own, but we are still the keepers of two more sets of childhood memory boxes.

This Mother's Day card was made for me for my daughter when she was six years old, but it wasn't in her memory box but instead tucked away in my dresser drawer. I found it again, and yesterday when she was here, she saw it for the first time in almost 19 years. The front page is a poem, fairly well known, but I do not know the author:

"Sometimes you get discouraged
Because I am so small
And always get my fingerprints
On furniture and walls.

But everyday I'm growing up
And soon I'll be so tall
That all those little handprints
Will be hard to recall.

So here's a lasting handprint
Just so that it will stay
Exactly as my fingers looked
One Mother's Day in May."


And here are her six-year-old handprints, so much smaller than they are now. But we smiled together about her Mother's Day card, as she compared her adult hands to these little ones. She has grown into a wonderful (and tall) young woman of whom I am so proud, and one day she will have a child who's little handprints will adorn her home. I wish her the same joy these precious handprints have always brought me.

California Golfing!

Just a quick update to share that Hubby and I are in beautiful Palm Desert, California, enjoying the week at that Desert Springs Marriott. We're playing golf everyday, enjoying the magnificent views, and basking in the warmth. At home it's quite cold with snow predicted by the end of the week. I do think that yesterday was just about the perfect day: an amazing breakfast buffet, 18 holes of golf (I beat Hubby!), a gorgeous day, a post-game cocktail by the pool, and a lovely dinner here at the resort. We're getting plenty of sleep, plenty of exercise, and plenty to eat! Now, off to play more golf!

Sore Muscles Feel So Good!

I've been a bit busy of late. I've joined a local gym and I'm trying to get the exercise that I need during this cold winter. Usually I walk 2.5 miles every morning, but my next-door neighbor who I have walked with for 20 years, has moved away. Now, my friend Andrea (yes, of the socks fame) and I are meeting everyday to go through our paces. 40 minutes or so on the treadmill, a round of stretching and sit-ups on the mats, and twice a week we use the Nautilus machines. I am going to be buff! Hahaha!

I have a few sore muscles to say the least, but they feel so good all at the same time. I'm reminded that it's good to move, good to sweat, and good to have someone to share the time with. We have no competition (Andrea's much more fit than I am anyway) and we just encourage each other on. It would be easy to just stay at home and not exercise, but I'm being held accountable. For 20 years, my neighbor would always be waiting at the end of the driveway for me each morning, and now, Andrea expects me to be at the gym. I need that push, that extra reason to get going, and after the work-out is done, I feel so good! So these sore muscles are a good reminder that I'm doing something healthy, something necessary, and I'm sharing it with a good friend which makes it fun!

Ode to Big Socks

As a follow-up to yesterday's post, here is my friend Andrea's poem about Judy's socks. Thanks to Andrea for allowing me to publish it.


It all began at the knitting store
When two friends checked out yarn galore
Knitting socks was the latest fad
In stripes and even bright colors - egads!

But off in a corner, the friends did spot
Some subtler socks from a different dye lot
Many dark shades of greens, grays and browns
Filled their faces with big smiles, not frowns

Then suddenly, the two had an amazing idea
To their long-footed friend they’d bring great cheer
They would knit her some Christmastime socks for her feet
That would match almost all of her frocks – it’d be neat!

The project began with turning the toe
Four hours later, they shared feelings of woe
They were proud of their work, and determined to do it
A few times, they almost said, “Forget it, oh screw it!”

With perseverance and averaging an hour per inch
The sock grew to a length so the toes wouldn’t pinch
Foreboding took over as they approached the heel
“We can do this ourselves”, they exclaimed with great zeal!

Now the socks were practically knitting themselves
Keep in mind, they had to be almost size twelves
They were cruising along, could this pace really last?
Bear in mind by now Christmas was way in the past

They met to compare and bind off with glee
Believe it or not the socks matched – Yippee!
We give thanks that we didn’t have to knit two socks
Because we now know, we are not sock knitting jocks!

Tonight, we are happy to bring this story to an end
We hope they will fit our long footed friend
Thankfully, she’s cheery and fun and not moody
Good luck, hope they fit, we love you Judy!

Project: Warm Tootsies!

My friend, Andrea, and I have a mutual friend, Judy, who is very tall, 6 ft. 2 in. Judy always has trouble finding clothes to fit her....the sleeve-lengths are too short, pant's inseams are never long enough, and she has long feet (probably to keep her tall frame from blowing over in the wind!), so even proper-fitting socks are a difficulty for her. She takes a size 11 1/2 shoe and always has trouble finding socks long enough for her feet. On a recent trip to the Outlets, the only store she had to visit was the sock store because they carry socks for long-footed women.

So, two weeks before Christmas, Andrea and I decided we would knit Judy a pair of socks which we could adjust to her special long need. We would each knit one sock to make them a gift from both of us. Off we went to the wool shop, talked to the very knowledgeable shop owner who printed us out a pattern adjusted specifically to Judy’s shoe size, and then tried to decide what beautiful wool we would use for Judy’s Christmas gift. We finally chose a thin, multicolor Merino wool in colors that we knew would appeal to her. We studied our pattern and decided we would need some help to “turn the toe” so agreed to come back to the shop a few days later for some help with our knitting. All excited and ready to knit, we spent almost four hours learning to make the toe correctly. During this time there were stitches to count, rows to count, dropped stitches to find, and not a lot of talking. Andrea and I have never been together for that long a period and said so few words to each other!! Once the toe was made, we left for home, ready to tackle the next seven inches of knitting around and around on four, size 1 double-pointed needles. Little did we know that each inch of knitting on those tiny needles would take an hour each! The week before Christmas was not a time when either of us could find that many hours to just sit and knit, so we knew that our plan for the socks to be a Christmas gift was evaporating. Once Christmas was over, we set in again to finish the socks and soon we found ourselves at the dreaded “turn the heel” portion of the sock. Could we remember what we had learned and manage a good heel all by ourselves? We agreed that we had to be together to get it done right, so we spent an entire day together, the knitting interrupted by tea and fresh banana bread, the delivery of Andrea’s new living room furniture, a quick run out for soup and sandwich, and her three children coming home from school at three different times. But by dinnertime, we had done it, two wonderful heels!! Now we were on our own again to knit three more inches on those four needles to cover the ankle. That accomplished, and after a quick consultation, we constructed the six inches of ribbing up the leg. This is the photo taken this morning when we met to bind off our socks. My sock is on the pink needles and Andrea's on the green. We shaped the socks into the form of a heart and wrote Judy's initials with our binding off yarn!



Over more tea and cranberry orange coffee cake, we finished our last stitches together sitting in my kitchen. What joy when they were done and we could each actually model our own sock!! Here they are, our gift of love to a special friend.



We will give Judy her belated Christmas gift on Monday evening at our Church Ladies monthly gathering. It’s a craft night here at my home and so appropriate for her to receive them then, even if Christmas was four weeks ago! Andrea is writing a poem to go with our labor of love, and I will find suitable gift wrappings.

Today we realized that each sock took 20 hours to make, and being the professional women that we are, we are worth at least $25 per hour, so this makes each sock worth $500, plus the $12 for each of the two skeins of wool we purchased, so all in all, these are Judy’s $1,024 pair of socks!!! She’d better wear them every day for the rest of forever to get our money’s worth. Hahaha!

Not only was this a special gift for a special person, but it was a gift for Andrea and me as well. We had so much fun, laughed so hard, and spent precious hours together enjoying each other's friendship. Here we are about a year ago, I'm on the left, Andrea on the right.



As a PS: I am very grateful to live in this time, when I can just run to store to buy a new pair of socks. If I had to knit my family's socks, they would each have one pair that they would have to wash out every night! I told Andrea that it was a good thing we were each knitting one sock because if I had gotten to the end of the pattern and read the dreaded line, "make the second sock", I think I would have cried!

Tools of the Trade

Hubby and I have spent the weekend painting our bedroom. We last painted it about four years ago….and I never liked that color blue from the very first brush stroke!! But Hubby loved it, so I put up with it and tried to get along as best I could. But now time has come to replace the carpeting, and since I just couldn’t live one day longer with that BLUE, the painting tools came out. So now the walls are a lovely shade of warm yellow, new sandy tan carpet will be installed tomorrow, and with the new comforter and window treatments, this will bring us into the 21st century.

Normally, painting a room would be a fun project, but this makes the fifth room we’ve painted since October. I’ve been on a redecorating binge of late. In the above photo, you can see that awful shade of blue on the sanding tool….it took three coats to cover it and I worried for a while that it may require four. I declared this morning that if a room took more than three coats of paint to cover the old color then I just wouldn’t have the energy for it. But now that it’s dry and I’ve studied it carefully, I declare the job done! So this post is a declaration of accomplishment, an homage to change, and a sigh of relief that we don’t have any more rooms to paint in the foreseeable future!!

What about you?

This is me! Every time I take these tests, this is my result: Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging. I definitely take things to heart, do better one-on-one or in small groups, and have compassion and empathy. I'm a good friend. Funny that this test says I'd be a good interior designer.....I've just spent the day painting our bedroom!

You Are An ISFJ

The Nurturer You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal. A good listener, you excell at helping others in practical ways. In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music. You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist.

What's Your Personality Type?

The Passinghams

Inspired by reading another blog, I decided to tell the story of my great grandparents, Walter and Beatrice Passingham. This photo was in celebration of their engagement to marry and was taken around 1894. The original photo is actually a postcard of sorts. They presumably mailed the cards to friends and loved ones to announce their betrothal. They married in London, England in 1895.


This photo was taken at my great-grandparents’ wedding and they are seated in the center of the photo. Walter’s brother Arthur is seated on the ground in front of him and his sister, Mary (Polly) is on the left. You can certainly see the family resemblance! Behind them are more ladies of the family who really don’t look very happy to be attending this wedding, but in those days, one had to hold perfectly still while the photograph was being taken because the shutter stayed open so long. Walter worked for his father's company, Passingham Processed Meats, as did most of his brothers. When his father, George, died, the management of the company went to Walter's older brother, Jonathon. Now Jonathon wasn't a savvy businessman, and he was a bit of a swindler, and as the story goes, he lost the business because of shady dealings.

Around 1908, so despondent over the loss of the family company, Great Grandfather Walter up and deserted his family and fled to Australia. Not knowing what had become of him, Beatrice had him declared dead seven years later, and married Claude Boulter, hence I always knew my great grandmother as Granny Boulter. Walter worked on a sheep station in New South Wales, Australia until his death in 1932.


Here are Beatrice and her children in 1909 or so. Her son George (my grandfather) is standing next to his mother, daughter Ivy is seated, Charles is the little boy in the sailor suit, and Leonard is the baby. Sadly, Leonard died as a child and Charles died as a young man. Ivy never had any children, and as my grandfather only had daughters, the Passingham line from Walter is dead.

I am fascinated by the lives of my ancestors. One's experiences make us the person we are, the parent we become, and colors the shape of the generations to come. I know my love and gift of music comes through this Passingham line. My grandfather and his sister were both professional musicians. What impact will my life have on those who come after me?

The Joys (?) of a New Computer

For Christmas, Hubby gave me a new laptop computer. This was a wonderful addition to my life as now all my ancestors are portable. I can take my genealogy research "on the road" with me and thousands of bits of ancestral facts will be at my fingertips. But there is a downside however.....I have had to get used to this new piece of technology. There is a new interface with the World Wide Web, my instant messaging tool is upgraded and different, and Hubby just moved all my photographs to the new computer and even they are organized differently now too. And those passwords!! A new computer requires that you enter them all again for even the most familiar sites. The more recent ones I've kept track of, but some of the older ones, well, it was an interesting process trying to figure out what I could have possibly used to log-in to each site. Hubby kept asking questions too....."Do you want this on your new computer?", "How do you want this set up?", "Do you want me to upgrade this for you?"....well, how do I know unless I try? I appreciate the hours of work he put in moving my entire computer life for me, but I know he enjoyed it. At one point, with cables, parts, disks, paperwork, wires, and technology spread out all over the office floor, he exclaimed, "This is Geek Heaven!!". Being a tad reistant to change, my laptop lives in its docking station most of the time. That way I can still use my full-sized keyboard and my full-sized monitor, and that feels comfortable. I've had some frustrations but for the most part, I think I'm growing to like my new and "improved" computer.

The Best Wine

Over the last few years, we have become more intrigued with finding good wine. Hubby and I could never agree on a bottle of wine to share. He preferred the reds, cabernets in particular. I preferred the whites, white zinfandel was my choice for a long time. (I know, it’s the Kool Aid of the wine world!). We have both made some concessions and our wine tastes have both migrated toward the middle. Now we can share a good pinot noir or a shiraz, and occasionally I’ll find a wonderful white wine that Hubby will drink too. He tends to drink merlots now and I go for the pinot grigios, and so for Christmas, he gave me this great wine cellar with a side for white and a side for red, each at their own temperature. Notice which side contains more bottles!

This year we hosted a wine tasting for some friends with Spanish wines as the centerpiece. We had a knowledgeable sommelier who explained the regions of Spain and which wines come from the different areas. It was very informative and many of us bought many bottles!

Do you have a favorite wine? How did you find it? What do you love about it? To anyone who's out there reading, I’d like to hear your recommendations.

Winter Wonderland

Here we are on the second day of January and we've only had a trace of snow. Some would say that's a good thing, but I'm starting to miss the quiet, pristine scene after a good snowfall. This photo was taken last year from our front door. There is something about this fluffy blanket of winter transforming the dull brown of late fall. And in the spring, it's exciting to see the heads of the crocuses poking out from under their mantle of white. The seasons change and with those changes come our own, but what if winter never comes this year? Will I miss my own changes as well?

My First Post

I have been toying with the idea of writing here, but I have to admit, it scares me a little. First, who really cares about the things that run through my mind? Second, does what I have to say really need to be written down on the Web for the world to see? Third, I just can't imagine that the the musings in my mind will translate to good reading. And finally, I have never thought of myself as a good writer....competent yes, but I don't have the finesse to really pull off a riveting story. So, it may take me some time to find my niche in this new venue, but one day you may just find something of importance here, with perhaps a bit of relevance to me and those who read.