I took this recipe that a Canadian friend gave me last winter to the July 3rd/4th senior volunteer potluck and many people asked for the recipe. I understand because I love it myself. And it is so easy and quick to fix for a gathering. Enjoy!
Recipe: Coleslaw 7/4/2009
Category: Side dish
Author: Judy Hunt
1 PKG. Coleslaw Mix
1 10 oz. frozen peas
1 small jar of dry roasted peanuts (I used about a cup)
1/4 C diced onion
Dressing:
1/3 C Apple Cider Vinegar
3/4 C sugar or sugar substitute(I used Splenda)
1 C Vegetable oil
1 tsp salt
1 tsp dry mustard
1 1/2 Tsp poppy seeds
Mix dressing ingredients and pour over salad and toss just before serving.
Yummy!!
Saturday, July 4
Old timey July 4th
I 'borrowed' this old time photo of a 4th of July picnic in 1945 from the Des Moines Register. As a child I attended many of these affairs with my parents as I am sure many of you did as well. There would be a big roaster full of fried chicken, prepared at home by mom. Actually all the food had been prepared at home and then transported to the picnic site.
Tuesday, June 30
Declaration of Independence
From friend Judith Raglin:
Ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?
Five were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.
Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. What kind of men were they?
24 were lawyers and jurists. 11 were merchants, 9 were farmers and plantation owners; men of means.
They signed the Declaration of Independence knowing that the penalty was death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
The British hounded Thomas McKeam. He kept his family in hiding. He served in Congress without pay. His possessions were taken. Poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., urged General George Washington to open fire on HIS OWN HOME where the British had set up headquarters. The home was destroyed. Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis; home and properties were destroyed. His wife died in jail within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and gristmill were laid to waste. He lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.
Some of us take these liberties we have so much for granted, but we shouldn't.
Take a few minutes while preparing for and enjoying your 4th of July holiday.
Silently thank these patriots. Remember: freedom is never free!
Ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?
Five were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured.
Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. What kind of men were they?
24 were lawyers and jurists. 11 were merchants, 9 were farmers and plantation owners; men of means.
They signed the Declaration of Independence knowing that the penalty was death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
The British hounded Thomas McKeam. He kept his family in hiding. He served in Congress without pay. His possessions were taken. Poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.
At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., urged General George Washington to open fire on HIS OWN HOME where the British had set up headquarters. The home was destroyed. Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis; home and properties were destroyed. His wife died in jail within a few months.
John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and gristmill were laid to waste. He lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.
Some of us take these liberties we have so much for granted, but we shouldn't.
Take a few minutes while preparing for and enjoying your 4th of July holiday.
Silently thank these patriots. Remember: freedom is never free!
Monday, June 29
Bird Watchers
These three little ones are trying to get a hummingbird to land on their finger. They worked at it a very long time.
Sunday, June 28
Old Ned's Story
This just tells all of us as we MATURE what we have to endure. This man
lives in Washington state.
My Twitter won't Tweet
Things are spiraling out of control. I think I have become lost in a world
of electronic madness.
One of my sons informed me this week that my cell phone has become obsolete
and I must head down to the Cell Phone store and get a phone that is
contemporary with the time.
I pointed out that the fancy Razor/Slim line phone with camera built in that
he made me trade my perfectly good flip-top Motorola cell phone for two
years ago still works perfectly fine. Well, except for the camera thing.
Never could figure that out.. Even the few times I actually did take
pictures I couldn't figure what to do with them and gave up. That is except
when I would push the wrong button and take a video of the ceiling or my
feet.
Seems the issue is that I am unable to text with the tiny little 3 character
buttons. "Hi, son," would come out looking like, "Gh mo." My grandkids
have even spoken to my wife about Poppa's crazy text messages. Give me a
break. Whatever happened to actually talking on a phone? Isn't that what
they were invented for?
They want me to get one of those phones that you can turn upside down and
sideways and has a typewriter keyboard with keys about one-eighth the size
of my pinky finger. One of my four sons is a realtor whose real occupation
is fly-fishing. "Way to go, son." Or in text language, "Xbz um Io, rmo."
We were floating the Yakima River in his guide quality drift boat south of
Ellensburg, Washington. We were miles from anything remotely resembling
civilization. Rock canyon walls were on either side of us. Bear with me, I'll
try to explain this strange thing.
His "Blackberry" rang. It was blue and I asked him why it wasn't called a
Blueberry. He shook his head with that 'dealing with an elder despair' look
I get a lot these days. It was another realtor who called to say that the
sellers he represented had agreed to my son's client's changes and he had
the signed documents in hand.
My son told him to FAX the papers to his office and he would get them signed
and Faxed back, to close the deal that morning. A minute later the phone
rang and he hit a few buttons and looked over the FAX, now on the Yakima
River with us. He then called his clients and told them he was Faxing the
papers to them to sign and asked them to FAX them back to his office. While
he was waiting, he hooked into a fat rainbow and was just releasing this 22
inch beauty as his phone rang again with the signed FAX from his clients.
He called the other realtor and told him he was sending the signed papers
back by FAX. The deal was closed. He smiled and just said, "You are a little
behind the times, Dad."
I thought about the sixty million dollar a year business I ran with 1800
employees, all without a Blackberry that played music, took videos, pictures
and communicated with Facebook and Twitter. I signed up under duress for
Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouse, 13 grandkids and 2
great grand kids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I
could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of
space.
That was before one of my grandkids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree,
Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and
something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program
within the texting world.
My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything
except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to
live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.
The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost
every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that
in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth [it's red] phone I am
supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line
at Barnes and Nobles talking to my wife as everyone in the nearest 50 yards
was glaring at me. Seems I have to take my hearing aid out to use it and
got a little loud.
I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside was
the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10
minutes, she would sarcastically say, "Re-calc-ul-ating" You would think
that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would
let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light.
Then when I would make a right turn instead, it was not good.
When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the
cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy,
the GPS lady, at least she loves me.
To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless
phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven't
figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have run around
digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry
baskets when the phone rings.
The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every
time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on
something themselves but this sudden "Paper or Plastic?" every time I check
out just knocks me for a loop. I bought some of those cloth re-usable bags
to avoid looking confused but never remember to take them in with me.
Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me,"Paper or Plastic?" I just
say, "Doesn't matter to me. I am bi-sacksual." Then it's their turn to
stare at me with a blank look.
Have a nice weekend
Old Ned
lives in Washington state.
My Twitter won't Tweet
Things are spiraling out of control. I think I have become lost in a world
of electronic madness.
One of my sons informed me this week that my cell phone has become obsolete
and I must head down to the Cell Phone store and get a phone that is
contemporary with the time.
I pointed out that the fancy Razor/Slim line phone with camera built in that
he made me trade my perfectly good flip-top Motorola cell phone for two
years ago still works perfectly fine. Well, except for the camera thing.
Never could figure that out.. Even the few times I actually did take
pictures I couldn't figure what to do with them and gave up. That is except
when I would push the wrong button and take a video of the ceiling or my
feet.
Seems the issue is that I am unable to text with the tiny little 3 character
buttons. "Hi, son," would come out looking like, "Gh mo." My grandkids
have even spoken to my wife about Poppa's crazy text messages. Give me a
break. Whatever happened to actually talking on a phone? Isn't that what
they were invented for?
They want me to get one of those phones that you can turn upside down and
sideways and has a typewriter keyboard with keys about one-eighth the size
of my pinky finger. One of my four sons is a realtor whose real occupation
is fly-fishing. "Way to go, son." Or in text language, "Xbz um Io, rmo."
We were floating the Yakima River in his guide quality drift boat south of
Ellensburg, Washington. We were miles from anything remotely resembling
civilization. Rock canyon walls were on either side of us. Bear with me, I'll
try to explain this strange thing.
His "Blackberry" rang. It was blue and I asked him why it wasn't called a
Blueberry. He shook his head with that 'dealing with an elder despair' look
I get a lot these days. It was another realtor who called to say that the
sellers he represented had agreed to my son's client's changes and he had
the signed documents in hand.
My son told him to FAX the papers to his office and he would get them signed
and Faxed back, to close the deal that morning. A minute later the phone
rang and he hit a few buttons and looked over the FAX, now on the Yakima
River with us. He then called his clients and told them he was Faxing the
papers to them to sign and asked them to FAX them back to his office. While
he was waiting, he hooked into a fat rainbow and was just releasing this 22
inch beauty as his phone rang again with the signed FAX from his clients.
He called the other realtor and told him he was sending the signed papers
back by FAX. The deal was closed. He smiled and just said, "You are a little
behind the times, Dad."
I thought about the sixty million dollar a year business I ran with 1800
employees, all without a Blackberry that played music, took videos, pictures
and communicated with Facebook and Twitter. I signed up under duress for
Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouse, 13 grandkids and 2
great grand kids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I
could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of
space.
That was before one of my grandkids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree,
Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and
something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program
within the texting world.
My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything
except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to
live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.
The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost
every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that
in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth [it's red] phone I am
supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line
at Barnes and Nobles talking to my wife as everyone in the nearest 50 yards
was glaring at me. Seems I have to take my hearing aid out to use it and
got a little loud.
I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside was
the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10
minutes, she would sarcastically say, "Re-calc-ul-ating" You would think
that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would
let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light.
Then when I would make a right turn instead, it was not good.
When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the
cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy,
the GPS lady, at least she loves me.
To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless
phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven't
figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have run around
digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry
baskets when the phone rings.
The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every
time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on
something themselves but this sudden "Paper or Plastic?" every time I check
out just knocks me for a loop. I bought some of those cloth re-usable bags
to avoid looking confused but never remember to take them in with me.
Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me,"Paper or Plastic?" I just
say, "Doesn't matter to me. I am bi-sacksual." Then it's their turn to
stare at me with a blank look.
Have a nice weekend
Old Ned
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