"Her" is a He

I had no idea what the bunny was, just assumed a "she" because of no smell (I thought males would have a urine odor). But I guess I was wrong. I had no idea how to tell what a rabbit is until I looked on the internet. So, he is a male. So far no problems. One person who keeps rabbits told me there is no need to get a rabbit fixed if you have only one.

Shopping for a new desktop. I have a good monitor, need a new tower. The one I have belonged to first hubby, who told me "I'll only use it for email, buy me the cheapest one." A few months later the computer I was using died, so I ended up inheriting a really slow single core AMD. It's been solid and stable, it's just slow, and some bigger programs are making it lag. We were looking at Windows 8 with the touch screens. I like the touch screen feature, but it's not going to work for me when I'm sitting down. I mean, I can hardly reach my monitor from a sitting position, and if I scoot my chair closer, I'll just end up with a tired arm. I have some time to think about it. There's been no work. The big jobs that were talked about back in November that were supposed to come after New Year's haven't materialized yet.

Hubby said his mom always made a yummy dessert, but I had my doubts when hubby described it to me. It's called Hallva, and it's made by heating oil and adding flour until it's kind of thickish. It is stirred without stopping until it gets brown. At this point it smells like burnt flour. In another pot, water and sugar is heated. When the oil and flour is cooked, the sweetened water is stirred in. Then the mix is transferred to a heavy bowl and cooled. It tastes like...burnt flour. Hubby loves it. I told him it must be something you need to grow up with. Odd thing is, hubby doesn't like the smell of Parmesan cheese. He doesn't like the taste of turkey (but he loves duck). He bought a duck and I cooked it. I thought it stank. He said it was so yummy and couldn't understand why I didn't like it. Thankfully we both love chicken. Life is an adventure.

Like everyone else, we are waiting for spring.

P.S. I looked up Hallva. Here is a different recipe. It uses butter (or margarine), which would taste better (to me---hubby doesn't like butter either) but would wreck equal havoc with my digestive system.

1 glass butter or margarine (or oil)
1 glass flour
1-1/4 glasses granulated sugar
5 glasses water

Heat the margarine in a saucepan very gently, and saute the flour until golden brown in the margarine for 40 minutes over low to moderate heat. When the flour turns light golden, put the sugar and water in a separate saucepan and make syrup by boiling gently. Add the syrup to the saucepan with flour and simmer for 20 minutes, and then take out small pieces of the Hallva with a wooden spool, form into balls and place on a serving plate. Serve warm.

Since hubby likes it so much (and asked me to cook it for him once in awhile) I will try following this recipe and maybe not make it so brown, thus eliminating the burnt flour taste.

Thinking forward

Good memories of my past are slowly replacing the pain and stress of the past year. I am finally breaking free and beginning to move forward.

My heart says, "Move to the desert."

My head says, "Wait, too much to consider yet!"

My health says, "No more moldy, humid Midwest summers, PLEASE!!"

My fear says, "No more threat of tornadoes!! I hate tornadoes!"

My health pops in again, "Go somewhere where you can actually enjoy walking without the city congestion and pollution, and maybe where there are more days when you can open the windows."

My head replies, "What about moving so far away from your daughter?"

My heart argues, "She can visit!"

My head asks, "Should I be moving across the country at age 60-something?"

My heart pleads, "But my soul is in the desert, at least that's where I left it. At least let me go find it and ask it if it wants to come to the Midwest or stay in the desert."

My head is shocked---"What---you've lived in the Midwest 41 years and you still feel you don't belong??"

My heart asnwers, "Yeah. I don't."


Wow---arguing with myself!

Just for fun...

I was looking with ReMax. OMG there are actually affordable places. So much to learn---is health insurance for the uninsured available? How are the neighborhoods, etc. I saw some gorgeous 55+ mobile home parks, but don't know if I could afford the monthly lease on the land. It's SO much fun looking, though. Hills---mountains---rocky desert---my soul calls.

The desert calls

If it wasn't for my really good state insurance I think I would be wandering around out west looking for some place. Is that nuts? I mean, I have been living in Indiana ever since Dad brought me here in 1969. But why does my heart stir so much just looking at a picture of the desert? It's like my heart never left. I used to slip up and say to Dad that the desert was my home. He said, no, Indiana is my home. Would I miss the 4 seasons if I moved out there? Is it reasonable? I mean---price wise---doesn't everyone want to live out there---so the prices are higher. And what about the heat in summer. That is a LOT of heat. I hate humidity but I don't know if I could live in that kind of heat again. I have relatives out west. I should go visit them. I am restless today, for sure.

"Desert Rat"

Yes, I was a "desert rat", and reading my friend A :-) 's post about her incredible journey in the Sahara inspired me to show you a bit of my past. In 2005 I was blessed to be able to go back to visit for the bi-annual Midland Reunion. I stepped out of the car onto ground I had not touched in 42 years, and looked at mountains I thought I would never see again. It was an emotional and inspiring journey "home". Though my parents and I only spent 8 and 1/2 years in the desert, I count it as the most beautiful place I have ever lived.

You might find it strange that I refer to Midland and this part of the California desert as "mine". I think all of us former "Midlandites" do. Midland was a company town and we were just renters. It is still owned by the United States Gypsum Company. But we all developed an almost spiritual connection to the desert.

Castle Rock, my beautiful mountain. I could see this mountain from our picture window 

Castle Rock and the Big Maria mountain chain in the sunset. A picture of my heart. Not an evening went by that I did not watch a sunset, all crimson and purple and gold, reflected on the mountains.

Big Maria. I could easily see this mountain from my bedroom window. Often in the summer I would wake before sunrise and watch wispy clouds as they turned ever brighter, from gray to dusty rose, to soft orange, then gold, and finally bright white as the sun rose across the desert. I took this picture while standing on the huge concrete slab where the USG plant once stood.

Big Maria and the reunion

Our first house. We lived in two places in Midland. I think we were in this house for 2 years, which would have been 1955 to 1957. I remember sitting very still on this porch for a very long time as two birds fed on the ground. Eventually they ended up only about 2 feet away from me. That's our Morris Minor rag top car in the driveway.

All that is left of our first house, a tiny concrete slab. How did we live in something so tiny!!

We moved across the street on the corner, into a bigger house with a crawl space and no concrete slab. All that is left is a rusted, crumpled water pipe and the outline of our cactus garden. The ocotillo is still there! And doubled in size! This picture is looking north-northwest, at the Little Maria Mountains.

Looking south, toward Blythe. This was the view to the south, from our kitchen window, although there were houses then.

Me, my mom, and my step-grandpa on my dad's side, standing in front of what's left of the Morris Minor. You can see part of the USG plant behind me and the north edge of Big Maria behind the car. The desert dryness and heat deteriorated the rag top on the car. The last nail in its coffin was a midnight drive my dad took us on. The radiator hose broke and we lost all the water in the radiator. We were on a remote road only traveled once a week at best. If my dad had stopped the car we would have been doomed, so he drove it home and parked it. The engine block cracked from the heat. Of course, we knew that. It was us or the car. This was about 1960

Here is the same corner in 2005, but looking east, south-east. The bench was placed there for fun by some former Midlandites.

Here is the street-view of my corner, looking south. You can see the cactus garden in the distance to the right. Those are the Little Maria Mountains in the distance. The driveway curved in a semi-circle around the bush. We lived on the corner, so you could enter the driveway from the north or the east. My corner is a "bus stop"! Neat!

For more pictures of Midland, see my dad's black and white photos  and my special section on Midland on my website.

Back to reality. This is where I live now. It's green but claustrophobic and uninspiring. Behind that brown wall is a noisy expressway. It might look like the country but its not. Is smells like a city. Oh boo hoo, I know---feeling sorry for myself.