To boldly go where no one has gone before.

Thanks to the wonders of streaming video, my hubby and I are working our way through all seven season of Star Trek Next Generation and onward to the various offshoots of the Star Trekking universe.

Back in the 80’s I was what is commonly referred to as a Trekkie.  Yeps, I rabidly watched Star Trek episodes.  I attended Trekkie conventions . . . but I wasn’t so Trek-i-fied that I dressed up in a goofy uniform or as an alien or anything like that.  I collected Trek memorabilia, games and whatnot.  I even had my very own tribble, until my cat destroyed it. But most prized is my Will Riker action figure.  God, that man was HOT!

I even had a little Star Trek sound effects box; it looked a bit like a radar detector in form.  I had it mounted on the dashboard my awesomely cool looking but dreadfully underpowered 1988 bright regatta blue Ford Mustang.  I used it as a way to manage my road rage . . . how cool that I could shoot phasers and photon torpedoes at offensive drivers!

Being that I drove a bright blue sportscar . . . regardless of how fast it wouldn’t go . . . I was a target for state troopers looking to fill his monthly quota of traffic violators.  The car may not have been zippy, but it could indeedy exceed the speed limit and I got snagged. 

The trooper approached . . . “license, registration, insurance and what is that on your dashboard”.  Although legal now, way back then it was illegal to use a radar detector. 

I had to explain and demonstrate to the zealous law enforcer that it was not a radar detector but that is was, in fact, a toy.

Astonishingly, the trooper was actually amused.  He allowed me to continue my mission: to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.

I'm a geek.  So what?  My trek-i-ness actually got me out of a speeding ticket that day. 

Cher’s Chicken Corn Soup

1 Whole Chicken

3 Quarts Water

1 Whole Onions, Halved

2 Celery Stalks

1 Cup Chopped Celery

2 1/2 Tablespoons Salt

1 1/4 Teaspoons Fresh Ground Black Pepper

1 1/2 Cups Corn

1 Lb. Egg Noodles

In a large pot over medium heat, combine chicken, water, onions, celery stalks, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer 2 hours, adding water as needed, until chicken is very tender. Remove the chicken, onions and celery from the soup.   Discard the onion and celery.  Set chicken aside to cool.

Bring soup to a boil and turn off heat.  Add corn, chopped celery and egg noodles.

Chop cooled chicken meat and add to soup.  Serve immediately.  Freezes well.

Swallow your pride occasionally, it's non-fattening!

Have your pie and eat it too . . . humble pie that is.  Eating humble pie is to be forced to admit you are wrong, especially in a humiliating situation.  It’s not a particularly pleasant thing for most of us.


The pie . . . such as it was . . . began as umble pie.  The umbles being what we, today, would refer to as offal . . . heart, liver and entrails. Who would make a pie out of the scraps?  Those who had naught and relied on the goodness of their masters. . . a person who was had no choice but to humble himself before his betters  The servants of a manor were forced to eat the umbles, often served in a pie, while the lord ate the meat.

Therefore humble pie is a play on words.  If you were obliged to eat umble pie you would be humble, indeed.  Or at least I would be.  Blech!

Everything about my teenage life was almost ideal . . . not

I didn’t begin to attract the attention of boys until I was 13 or 14 . . . about the same time as I discovered the necessity and benefits of personal hygiene and grooming.

I always had more male friends than girl friends . . . even to this day.  But because of my extreme lack of experience in quixotic interaction with the opposite sex I didn’t know how to react when one actually approached me.

I remember the first time a boy every asked me out on a date.  He was a very cute young man with wavy blond hair and blue eyes . . . and I actually did like him that way.  He asked me to go to a movie or something of the like and I replied without any hesitation of any kind, “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”  Awkward. Yes, I was classy and sensitive.   

Another such  . . . uhm . . . incident revolved around my first boyfriend.  We had been “going out” . . .  which basically meant walking to and from class together, holding hands and smooching in the school hallways.  In fact, I don’t recall ever actually going out anywhere.  Anyhoo, we had been “going out” for a couple of months and I didn’t really like him that way so I decided it would be best to end the relationship.  On Valentine’s Day, he sent me a carnation and a little box of candy.  In return, I sent him a note that said, “I am breaking up with you.  I was only using you for your class ring.”  Again . . . the epitome of civility.

Another time, a very handsome young man invited me to go to a dance.  I agreed to go with him; he was a little older than me and quite a hotty.  In the meantime, we passed little notes back and forth.  Me, in my innocence and naïveté, didn’t quite comprehend the innuendo and depth of his flirtations.   Somewhere along the line . . . probably when he said he would bring a blanket and we’d sneak out of the dance in order to employ said blanket . . . did I realize he anticipated, nay expected, to get lucky.  Holy cow, I almost died.  Fear not, my virtue remained intact for years after  . . . well, a couple years anyway.

The first guy I ever really liked that way was one of my best friend’s boyfriend  . . . he was my bestest friend but we never went beyond that for obvious reasons.  See?  I did have some modicum of class; although we did have a pretty intense smooch session right before I moved away.  I guess he liked me too that way. 

This might explain why I was never in any sort of real relationship until I was a bit older.  I ended up marrying him when I was way too young (20) and that didn’t last . . . it lasted too long, unfortunately. 

Anyhoo . . . the point is . . . well, there really is no point . . . just a little anecdote about myself.  I hope you enjoy my awkwardness.

All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.

I had a really whacked out dream the other night . . . weird happenings and bizarre imagery . . . it was very vivid and quite disturbing. 

Here’s the gist of it . . .

My husband I went to a meeting at our club.  In fact, I didn’t want to go to the meeting but he insisted that I do.  At some point during the meeting I opened one of the doors and laying across the way a baby moose was laying on the ground like it was sleeping . . . except that most of its skin was removed and except for a few patches of fur here and there it was mostly raw, bloody flesh.  I assumed it was dead.

I went back into the meeting and got involved with something.  And I realized that my husband had left me there and I was 40 miles from home.  I went outside and the baby moose was still there but in the parking lot was an adult moose in the same condition . . . skinned and exposed red meat.  Except that this moose was alive and running with a dog keeping pace alongside it.

It was a carnival atmosphere outside the meeting hall but I found someone to take me home.  We got into her car and headed out.  Shortly after leaving she stopped to get gas at a small country gas station.

While she was outside pumping gas into the car another vehicle pulled up behind us that was full of drunk, sloppy men.   I knew right away that they had bad intentions towards us and I tried to warn my friend but she took no heed. 

One of the men got into the car behind me and another got into the driver’s seat.  And I was raped.

The components of the dream that I feel had the most significance were the skinned moose(s), abandonment, turmoil and rape

Skinned animal: Feeling vulnerable at the basic levels of your being, and having no protection against the things touching your life.

Rape: To dream that you have been raped indicates vengeful or resentful feelings toward the opposite sex.  You feel that you have been violated or that you have been taken advantage of. Something or someone is jeopardizing your self-esteem and emotional well-being. Things are being forced upon you.

Abandonment: To dream that you are abandoned suggests that it is time to leave behind past feelings and characteristics that are hindering your growth. Let go of your old attitudes. Perhaps the dream is a metaphor that you need to approach life with "reckless abandon" and live more freely.

Okay . . . this is my interpretation of my dream:

It seems that something going on in my life is leaving me feeling vulnerable or exposed.  And, whatever that thing is is making me feel as though I’m being taken advantage of.  And, perhaps I should just let it go and move on.

Things in my life are overwhelming right now.  I’m feeling tons of stress and I’m wearing thin.   

All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.

Elias Canetti

Firewater Friday - Bobbing for apples

Bob's your uncle . . . now there’s an interesting phrase . . . well, an interjection really.  If you’re not familiar with the expression it’s totally a Brit thing but it’s been around for over a hundred years and it’s used fairly commonly . . . across the pond.

It’s tacked on to the end of a sentence kind of like “that’s it!” to show how easy it is to do something.  Like making toast . . .  “Simply put a slice of bread in the toaster, push down the lever, and Bob’s your uncle.”

As the story goes, in the 1880’s there was a British Prime Minister by the name of Robert Cecil who appointed his unqualified and unpopular “nephew” Arthur Balfour . . . nephew is in quotes because back in the day that is how gentlemen referred to their bastard sons . . . to a series of high level government positions. 

Arty probably would not have risen so highly through the political ranks without the assistance of his prominent “uncle”.  But, Bob was his uncle which assured his success.

It could also derive from the slang phrase ‘all is bob’ meaning that everything is copacetic but that’s not as much fun and not nearly as colorful.

So, there you have it!

Candy Apple Martini




1 Fluid Ounce Vanilla Vodka

1 Fluid Ounce Apple Vodka

1 Fluid Ounce Butterscotch Schnapps

1 Fluid Ounce Cranberry Juice
1 Fluid Ounce Apple Juice


I used Pinnacle Whipped Vodka and Asolute Orient Apple Vodka.

Pour the vodka, apple vodka, butterscotch schnapps, and juices into a cocktail shaker over ice. Cover, and shake until the outside of the shaker has frosted. Strain into a chilled martini glass.

Even to this day, when I see a school bus it's just depressing to me.

When I was a kid, I would ride in the front of the bus on the way to and from school.  Primarily, because my big sister rode in the back and I wanted to be as far away from her as possible.

I tried to snag the first seat and eventually ended up having a friendly kid-to-grownup rapport with the bus driver . . . whose name was George.

George was a good guy, youngish (in his 30’s?) and was a nice enough fellow.

I remember one time when I was overcome with an irresistible urge to stick a thumbtack under his seat cushion  . . . pointed up.    I succumbed to my urge and sat back in my seat to observe the results.

You can imagine his reaction when he sat down and was impaled by the tack.  I don’t know if he got stuck in the butt or the . . . er . . . doo-dads, but he practically flew out of the seat.

Any good prankster would have sat by stoically and observed the results of her trick without reaction.  But not this joker . .  . no, I busted out laughing, practically peeing my pants in my glee.

He turned on me so quickly and viciously I thought he was going to throttle me right there and then.  Luckily, he regained his composure before anything happened that would have gotten me hurt and him fired.  He must have had remarkable self control.

Suffice to say, we weren’t on friendly terms after that.

Stupid kids.

I hated school. Even to this day, when I see a school bus it's just depressing to me. The poor little kids.


Dolly Parton