Who in Sam Hill is Sam Hill anyway?

A few days ago I treated myself to a Shamrock Shake from McDonalds. I hadn't had one in years and I discovered they put whipped cream and a cherry on top now.

It was pretty good. Then today at lunch I ran over to McDonalds and ordered a snack wrap. I drove to the first window and paid. I drove to the second window and she said something about a vanilla shake. She had it in her hand. I smiled and said, "That's not mine" and she replied...wait for it:

"I know. Would you like it anyway?"

Well who in Sam Hill says no to a free vanilla milkshake is what I want to know.

Nature Notes: Plant a Garden

Visit Michelle at the home of Nature Notes.

My mom lives next to a place that is a local landscaper's .. um, place .. it's where they have piles of dirt and all their heavy trucks. They keep the front and sides landscaped. When I arrived here it was apparent they have begun preparations. Things in the areas up front are cleaned out and new dirt has been put down in preparation. It made me think of how, in really early spring, it takes faith to plant those plants.

Spring doesn't look much like spring this early in the year around here.

Plant a Garden

by Edgar Albert Guest

If your purse no longer bulges
and you've lost your golden treasure,
If at times you think you're lonely
and have hungry grown for pleasure,
Don't sit by your hearth and grumble,
don't let mind and spirit harden.
If it's thrills of joy you wish for
get to work and plant a garden!

If it's drama that you sigh for,
plant a garden and you'll get it
You will know the thrill of battle
fighting foes that will beset it
If you long for entertainment and
for pageantry most glowing,
Plant a garden and this summer spend
your time with green things growing.

If it's comradeship you sight for,
learn the fellowship of daisies.
You will come to know your neighbor
by the blossoms that he raises;
If you'd get away from boredom
and find new delights to look for,
Learn the joy of budding pansies
which you've kept a special nook for.

If you ever think of dying
and you fear to wake tomorrow
Plant a garden! It will cure you
of your melancholy sorrow
Once you've learned to know peonies,
petunias, and roses,
You will find every morning
some new happiness discloses.

Things are not always as they seem

In my early 20s I went to a birthday party where I saw an attractive woman who glowed when she laughed. I saw her husband's eyes sparkle when he watched her. I saw him drape his arm across her chair and I noticed how he would lightly touch her now and then in a way that seemed so affectionate. She radiant under the attention she received.

I mentioned all of this to my mother who wisely said something along the lines of how things are not always what they seem. She was correct, although at the time I was sure she was wrong. In the natural arrogance of a young woman, I thought that the truth was in my observance of it.

I thought I could see for myself the ways things are.

They ended up divorced. It was a difficult divorce, although that's redundant since there really isn't any other kind.

It was a little surprising to me that my mom knew something. I was so sure she was wrong because she didn't see what I had seen. Much later I realized that she knew things I wasn't privy to.

I guess in some ways I knew even then that what you see is not always what you get. But youth has a certain predictable way of looking at life and youth's truth is one thing not always rooted in actuality.

There are varying degrees of it, of course. There are those eager to learn and those open to unseen possibilities, but there are some who continually hold fast to their version of the truth despite repeated batterings from reality.

One troubling version of youth's truth is self-perception. It tends to be skewed and it tends to hang around well into adult life. I used to say and frankly, still believe, that it's called self esteem for a reason: it's what we think of ourselves. Therefore if we think too little of ourselves, it is we who control those thoughts and can change them.

I know things are not always what they seem.

I know now that although I still believe this, there are underlying issues that can complicate our view. Some are serious issues streaming from abuse, neglect or violence and those must be addressed.

Yet...still...things are not always what they seem.

It may seem insurmountable to change one's self-image, but I believe we all have the power to shift the tide. So take a look at yourself and pick something you like. Focus on it and talk to yourself positively about it for the rest of your life.

You know that long list you can rattle off of things that are wrong with you? Think again.

Things are not always as they seem.

Sleeping on a popsicle stick

What a joy, what an adventure to sleep in a hospital room. Here in Chez Ortho, the guest accommodations are marginally hospitable.

My mom's room is large. It's spacious. It's like a room at a Comfort Inn. If you got your innards scooped out at a Comfort Inn.

We arrived on Monday night. I took it all in. There's a wee couch in the room under the wall of windows. Being swift thinking as I am, I immediately deduced my berth for the duration. I looked it over with my keen, mechanically inclined mind. I spied a handle like the sort on the side of a mattress, so I pulled on it.

What appeared looked like a bed, but it sits really high and causes a huge gap against the back, so I put it back together thinking surely I was missing something.

The nurse came in and after all the formalities had been handled, I asked about the bed. She reached over as if to grab the handle and then she stopped and said, '' You're better off leaving it this way. So being naive I accepted that. It certainly looked like she was right. Even the nurses after her agreed.

I can't recall having a worse night's sleep that didn't involve either a floor or a tent and a monsoon.

I'm saying it was bad. I tossed, turned and even flipped. I arranged and rearranged. I swapped out pillows.

Finally at 0445, all the action began. At 0515, my aunt arrived. I put some pretty on, but that didn't hide the huge, dark bags that were gathered under my eyes like luggage waiting outside a cruise ship door.

After listening to people all day long agree that the beds are awful, I promptly pulled on the handle and put all my faith in the person who designed it. It's pretty comfortable after all.

Notice the white-on-white decor. It's all the rage; all the hospitals are doing it.

Also? I'm wide awake. Life is so unfair puting me in my snazzy bed and then keeping me up all night.

Irish dinner recipes

Since I won't be making anything for St. Patrick's Day this year, I thought I'd share some recipes with you.

Soda Bread Recipe

4 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar (you don't strictly need this)
2 cups buttermilk

Method:

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Lightly grease a baking sheet. Combine all the dry ingredients in a large bowl. I run a spoon or whisk through it to add some air because I am too cheap am too lazy don't have a sifter.

Add the buttermilk to form a sticky dough. You may need a little more milk, but I do fine with just two cups. Here's a tip: I often spray my hands with Pam before I scoop the dough out of the bowl. Place the dough on the sheet and shape into a round that's about as thick as your fist. With a sharp knife, cut a cross in the top of the dough.

Bake for about 30 minutes.

The bottom of the bread will have a hollow sound when tapped. If it isn't done, it won't sound hollow yet.

Cover the bread in a tea towel and lightly sprinkle water on the cloth to keep the bread moist. This is a daily bread, so you want to eat it the day you bake it.

Corned Beef in Guinness Recipe

This one is super easy. Take the corned beef out of the package. You can use the spices or don't use the spices. Put the corned beef in a crock pot with about 1/4 cup of brown sugar (you can use up to 1/2 cup). Pour (slowly) a can of Guinness over the beef and cook on high for 6 hours. If you use Guinness Extra Stout, you might want more brown sugar. Throw an onion in there if you like onion. You can do that anytime in the first four hours.

Cabbage Recipe

This is really easy, too. Chop up some cabbage. Heat Kerrygold Irish Butter in a skillet over medium heat. Don't let it get too hot or burn the butter. Throw the cabbage in the butter. Cover the skillet and stir every now and then. When the cabbage is cooked to your liking (test it for how crunchy you like or don't like it) and throw in some caraway seeds. Stir it up and serve.

Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh.
St. Patrick's Day blessing upon you.
For a free lesson on St. Patrick's Day phrases in Irish Gaelic, visit Bitesize Irish Gaelic.

As long as habit and routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge. Henry Van Dyke

Routine is a strange thing. Some people love it, some people fear it. Children and pets and certain occupations need routine; supper time, many jobs and relationships can falter under its weight.

One of the things about traveling that sets me on edge is the change of routine, but I know I easily slip into new routines. I become nervous as a trip approaches, but once a journey begins I settle in pretty quickly.

I've settled into nothing so far. Here I sit at one o'clock in the afternoon at my computer. I've been working steadily for the office, but I'm still in my pajamas and robe. I need to go for a run, but my cousin is due for a visit and the dog needs a walk and I just finally ate some lunch.

I hate to eat and run.

The routine that I'm missing the most is a little surprising. I didn't realize how instinctively I put things out for recycling. There's no recycling here. I don't know about Dayton overall, but here in the neighborhood where my mom is and where my aunt lives, they don't recycle. Des Moines only recently began...maybe a year or two ago.

I didn't participate in the years before that because all the cereal boxes had to be flattened, the glass had to be washed and the papers stacked and bound just so. It sounded to me like a part-time job.

But now we all have big wheeled bins like our trash cans. All I have to do is throw things in the bin. Our bin at home is far likely to have more recycling than the trash bin has trash.

So here I sit throwing away plastic bottles and cardboard packages. I weep silently in the pantry each time.

No, I don't. I'm just pulling your leg. But I do keep wondering where to put it all before I realize I have to toss it.

I miss my bin!!

Now if only I can digest, change clothes, go for a run, shower, visit my cousin, walk the dog, run to UPS, work all afternoon, get supper, watch a show, drive to the hospital and tuck my mom into her hospital bed.

Sounds like a lot to do. I should get crack-a-lackin' here.

6-mile run before a 10-hour road trip

Winter has done a number on me in terms of running. People hear about the indoor triathlon and think I stayed in great shape.

If only that were true. I stayed in shape if expanding is a shape.

There's this tiny little voice in the back of my head saying that if I'm still in Ohio the first weekend of April, I can do a low-key, local half marathon. As my sports med doctor once said to me, "Runners are stupid."

He meant it in a good way, I'm really sure.

You know three weeks isn't enough to train for a half. But I figured if I could run 6 miles, I might be able to run enough here in Ohio so that I could at least get 'er done.

It's not really a plan. It's also sort of stupid to run 6 miles with a cranky hamstring the day before an all-day road trip. Ouch.

When I run, I think about people and things. I rarely listen to music. I like listening to birds and neighborhood sounds like lawn mowers. I like to hear dogs behind creaky, leaning, 30-year-old fences.

I also think of stuff to blog about each run. I thought about blogging so much on Friday that I contemplated starting a whole other blog just so I could whine share my insight.

Mostly I wanted to blog about all my problems getting out the door in the cold weather.

In the summer last year, after I began training, I had a system in which all my gear was in a reusable bag from the grocery store. It sat in a chair in the dining room and I always had everything right there. That way I could get out the door quickly.

This year so far, the system hasn't worked so well. Cold weather demands more gear. I also can't find things like the electricity plug in for my Garmin watch or my Road ID shoe pocket.

It takes forever to get out the door.

One reason is because women's running clothes don't have pockets. I assume men's don't, either. If there is a pocket and that's a pretty big "if" although they do exist, the pocket is very small.

Too small for keys, too small for protective measures, too small for a cell phone.

I know many purists would say that you should run without all this stuff, but I think those people must run in protected environments, have an entourage or a coach to accompany them or they're men.

So I'm slow to get outside due to figuring out where to put what I have to take with me. I'll leave my cell phone behind if I have to, but then I couldn't call for help. I put my pepper spray in the waistband of my pants, which actually puts it right in a way that I can grab it quickly. I even practice grabbing it out of its pouch.

Then I get outside and it's too cold for the way I'm dressed and I go inside for a different jacket or it's sunny but windy and I need to go back inside for gloves. I wear a hat, but I get warm and need a pocket to put it in.

On days like Friday, I also think about how humbling it is to run around my neighborhood. I'm 45 with an extra 9 pounds, my face gets beet-red and I sometimes huff and puff.

If by sometimes, you mean all the time. I'm a noisy runner that way.

When I'm trained up or having a great run, my breathing falls into a steady, even pace. See? Humbling. I couldn't just leave it alone. I don't sound like I'm dying all the time. Just most of the time.

Lastly, last fall's hamstring problem hasn't gone away and that tripped me up on the run. Being in the car all day wasn't much fun, either.

Maybe it sounds like I should stop running, but that's not where I'm headed. I'm glad that after the winter I can still run six miles and although they were 12-minute miles with wee walking breaks for the hamstring, I know I can get back to 10-minutes.

But can I do it in three cold, March weeks? That remains to be seen.