Pat Winchester Booth

Today, I am tickled pink. Why? Because I am hosting my very first guest blogger on What’s in Terri’s Head?!!

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Pat Winchester Booth has been an online friend of mine for years, and I have been a fan of her unique blog, Mining towns in Canada, Reminiscing about growing up for just as many years. Pat is brilliant, outspoken, articulate, and witty. She has led an amazing life, with all its ups and downs, and relentlessly pursues and cultivates happiness and knowledge on a daily basis. I am quite in awe of this lovely, talented woman, and am very proud she has graced me with her virtual presence and words.

 

Without further ado, I present Pat Winchester Booth!

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My name is Pat.
I started blogging in 2007.
My site is Mining towns in Canada. Reminiscing about growing up. I wrote about all the towns I lived in. They were company towns, many in isolation and it’s a time gone by. I wanted to leave a record of that unique life style.
It was a voyage of discovery. I understood myself better and what makes me tick. It was cathartic and a nostalgic visit to my family and childhood.
I’ve had over 45,000 readers and have reunited many childhood friends who were able to contact each other through the blog. Central Patricia gold mines and snow lake were popular.
In between, I posted other thoughts and irrelevant musings.

What I am, what I think, what I write is all the “product” of  living in mining towns in Canada.

pagesep2(from September 25, 2014 issue of Mining towns in Canada. Reminiscing about growing up)

When I was much younger I saw a movie called “Auntie Mame”(1955), A character named “Gooch” got pregnant and did all the “pregnant lady” moves: The walk, the duck feet position, hand on hip & bend, moan and groan etc. I promised myself that I would NEVER do that, and when I was pregnant, both times, it came to mind and I was careful of my comportment, shall we say?

Fast forward to old age…I watched elderly people walk across parking lots and in stores and promised myself that I would never walk that way: waddle, duck feet pointing outward, stiff, agonizing movement.

PAT! GET OVER YOURSELF! I know there are many reasons for people of our age to struggle to walk. I always sympathized with all of them, I just didn’t want to BE one of them.

I don’t mind being old. There are lots of perks and the most important one is that I am still alive and well.

I do have my moments of Gooch-likeness”, especially when sitting for more than 15 minutes, then trying to make it across the room elegantly. (Doesn’t work).

This week, we tackled some physical work (up & down 13 steps with lots of bending) The Aleve didn’t relieve it much, and I had a couple of days of waddling, swaying etc. and I thought “this is it now, old age has set in”.

I’m happy to report that I’m back to normal today, and I concede that my normal could be pretty ancient looking to a 19 year old. I really don’t care, and this is one of the perks I referred to above: thinking about such nonsense, and the audacity to say it!

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(From  About “Mining Towns in Canada” Site)

An Experienced Pet Lover

My husband says “If it weren’t for…

  • The chewing
  • The piddling
  • The walking
  • The scooping
  • The barking
  • The snarling
  • The training
  • The feeding
  • The Vet bills
  • The grooming
  • The brushing
  • The shedding
  • The drooling
  • The dog sitting
  • The chasing
  • The fleas
  • …he would get another dog”.

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Thank you, Pat! I appreciate you so very much!

Everyone, please visit Pat’s blog when you have some reading time. You won’t be disappointed! Also, please leave your thoughts and comments below, as I’m sure Pat will enjoy hearing from you!

 

 

 

 

 

WTF Wednesday – TVOD

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Ah, autumn! I revel in the cooler, crisp temperatures. I am awe-struck by the leaves changing colors. Football is back, accompanied by nacho and chicken wing comas. I dump buckets of pumpkin spice creamer in my coffee. I adorn Denver Broncos fuzzy socks to warm my tootsies. Kids are back in school, so for a peaceful few hours per day, I don’t see, hear, or smell the four little brats darling boys next door. Yes, autumn is a beautiful thing.

With one small exception. TVOD. Television Overdose. Maybe it’s just me, but I can’t seem to organize my time around my fall TV binging. I’m staying up later and getting up earlier. I’m drinking twice the caffeine just to stay awake for all the shows I have recorded. I’m avoiding my writing, my blog, the doorbell, laundry, and personal hygiene.

I might have a problem.

I’m not quite sure how I end up with TVOD every year, but I never fail to succumb to its intoxicating nuances. For example, if I’m lost in Jamie Fraser’s eyes on Outlander, I can’t expect myself to stare at a grocery list, now can I? And if I’m in the midst of the zombie apocalypse, how will The Walking Dead cast handle my turning away to answer the phone or vacuum the cereal I spilled during a Survivor episode the evening before? That would just be rude!

The Walking Dead, of course, rules over all other TV shows for all time, since the beginning of the world. There is nothing more important than those wacky walkers! Who is with me on this one? There’s just something about an ex cop, a sweaty guy wielding a crossbow, a badass older woman who bakes cookies and blows stuff up, a pregnant woman mourning her dead husband killed by a baseball bat covered in barbed wire, a kid with one eye, a baby, and a guy named Jesus. How could anyone ignore such an eclectic dynamic. It boggles my mind.

So, yes, I probably do have a problem. I blame it on three things:

  • Retirement. I owe myself a certain amount of wasting time. I earned it.
  • My advanced intelligence. My brain needs stimulation at all times. A girl can’t read 24 hours a day, am I right?
  • ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu, Starz, PBS, MSNBC, CNN, CMT, Food Network, and so on and so forth. You get the picture. It’s all a bit too much to wrap my head around. Too many choices, so I watch it all. Okay, I don’t watch Fox, except for anything starring Chef Gordon Ramsey. He can out-cuss me by a mile, and I have to respect that! Props, Chef Ramsey! I will be watching!

Unfortunately, there are side-effects to binging on anything. If you binge on food, you might gain weight. If you binge on sex, you might gain STDs, a reputation, or maybe even a new little tax deduction. If you binge on TV, however, you will not gain anyone’s respect or admiration. You are in this alone. But you are allowed snacks! You cannot expect anyone to watch TV shows for hours and hours without proper snackage, now can you?  That would be so wrong. So, you may well end up with two binge-possible issues. Good luck.

I watch so many different shows, my TIVO can’t keep up. It allows me to record four shows at once, but that is not acceptable. I need more. Seriously, when having to choose which shows to record, what would I leave off?  I mean, if it’s a choice between Grey’s Anatomy, Designated Survivor, Little People Big World, or Family Feud, what am I supposed to do? If I don’t see every single one, I might end up depressed, or worse, suffering separation anxiety. It would be sad, to be quite honest. I don’t know how anyone solves such complex issues and still remains sane.

In summary, there is no moral to this story, but I do have some advice:

If I’m stuck in a TVOD nightmare, don’t even think about waking me. I might be in the middle of an episode of Shades of Blue, and you know how I feel about Jennifer Lopez.

 ‘Nuff said.

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Thank you for visiting my humble, virtual abode. I hope you return often. I will be waiting with open arms and a few witty anecdotes to warm the cockles of your heart. What?

 

 

 

Vomit-Worthy

TGIF my friends and fellow humans! So, how do you like my new blog so far? Comments are welcome. I have been working hard to please you. The website is almost finished. I just have a few loose ends. In the meantime, please enjoy my Friday frolicking on the delicate subject of Vomit. As always, you are welcome!

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Vomit.

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Hurl. Upchuck. Pray to the porcelain goddess. Lose your cookies. Purge. Puke. Barf. Heave. Retch. Spew. Throw up.

Vomiting is nasty fact of life; but, unless you are ten years old and trying to impress your friends with throaty, upchuck sounds, it’s a subject not normally included in polite societal interaction.

There are exceptions, of course.

Illness:  Some illnesses come with the unfortunate side-effect of vomiting. Examples include the stomach flu, migraine headaches, food-poisoning, etc. I’ve had them all at one time or another, and it was not pretty. Once upon a time, when I was around 34 or so, I had a three-day headache that kept me in bed or wrapped around the toilet round-the-clock. It was a Spewtastropny!  A Barfageddon, if you will. My then husband took me to the emergency room, stopping twice on the way to hold my hair back while I retched and he dry-heaved. So romantic! No? Turned out the doctor’s diagnosis was, “Yep, you sure do have a headache, and a doozy, at that!” He sent me home to continue my purge-quest. Thanks, Doctor Do-Very-Little!

Self-inflicted illness. Aka, Drunken Stupor:  We’ve all been there. Special Occasions. Celebrations. Twenty-first birthday parties. Clubbing. Tuesdays. Whatever way you arrive at the puke-point, the end-result is the same. A lot of perfectly good alcohol down the drain. Sad. Once upon a time, I was in the Air Force and stationed in Turkey. My boyfriend had just won a golf-tournament and we were the guests of honor at the awards ceremony. Libations flowed, especially this delightful wine called Mateus Rose.

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There were several chilled bottes placed on every table. My boyfriend didn’t drink, and he was slightly ignoring me while he basked in all the congratulatory bliss. So, I poured myself a glass of wine, and then a second, and a third and so on and on. We made it home without incident, but as soon as my boyfriend carried my drunk ass to bed, I promptly threw up all over his side of the bed. That would teach him to ignore me! Ha! But, alas, he just left me lying in my nastiness, and slept on the couch. I have never had a drop of Mateus Rose since.

Scared shitless – vomit as a second option:  Have you ever been so nervous or scared about something, your body takes command and makes you heave like there’s no tomorrow? Yep, me too. Once upon a time, I was attending Non-Commissioned Officer training in the Air Force, and each of us had to give a speech before we could graduate. I was prepared. My speech was flawless, complete with a couple of witty jabs at our instructor. My hair and uniform were impeccable, and my shoes shined like glass. I was just fine until the instructor called my name. “Sergeant Sonoda, you’re next.” I immediately began to tremble, as I gathered my index cards and other visual aids and approached the podium. I remember my legs were weak as I tried to walk and my knees felt like they would buckle any minute. I made it to the podium, and grabbed hold of it like it was a floatation device and I was drowning. I took a deep breath, checked my index cards, then looked up at the audience. That is when I felt it. I knew it was coming, and I was helpless. I threw down my index cards, and put both hands over my mouth, and all hell broke loose. I vomited all over that podium. My instructor tried to help by handing me a towel, and I’m quite sure I left him a yucky souvenir on his perfectly pressed uniform. It was a stellar day. I did graduate, but I think it was only because that instructor hoped to never see me again.

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I hope you enjoyed my little journey back in time. Please share your Vomit-Worthy adventures with us in the Comments! You know you want to! We don’t judge. We love you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eleven Years and Ten Months

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Yesterday was a sad, heavy-hearted day. Thoughts of Las Vegas and lives lost, the injured, and grieving loved-ones permeated my being, and today that feeling deepens. Relatives and friends have texted or called me saying how glad they were that Joan and I had moved away from Las Vegas. Although I love our new home in Idaho, Las Vegas will always hold memories, both good and not-so-good, and I do not regret moving there all those years ago. My only regret is more a realization that we now live in some scary times. Everywhere.

I moved to Las Vegas from Ohio almost twelve years ago, rolling into the city on September 22nd in 2005. I remember this because September 22nd is also my younger son’s birthday. I made the journey alone, with Joan planning to join me three months later. I took my time, enjoying the drive and the sights, and took three days to get there. It was a wonderful, incident-free road trip of which I will always cherish the many memories made.

When I arrived at Hoover Dam, which is about 45 minutes from Vegas, I pulled over and took a short video to commemorate the occasion. I have turned my computer and The Cloud inside-out and cannot find that video!  This makes me sad because it was an important milestone and I meant to hold on to it. Oh well, things come and go, but if we’re lucky, we still hold those precious memories in our hearts.

So, I suppose you’ll have to take my word for it, but I was excited and giggly and downright giddy about arriving at my new home. I remember it was around 4:30 pm when I reached the outskirts of the city, and rush-hour was quite scary. I almost had an accident before I even reached my new apartment. Then, when I finally did arrive, there was no electricity. Since the temperature was almost 100 degrees, I was unhappy about having no air-conditioning. However, everything worked itself out and within a couple of days, I was fully comfortable in my new place.

Those memories of the early days in Vegas were lovely.  I gambled and won a jackpot. I decorated. I shopped. I traveled to Boise to see my son and grandson. I (half-heartedly) searched for a job, which I found quite easily.  Jobs were plentiful back then, but that changed with the onset of the recession in 2008.

Both my sons and my grandson spent that first Christmas with me, and Joan arrived the day after Christmas. She found a job quickly, as well, and we did very well for a few years, until she had her stroke. That seemed to be a turning point for us. I also lost my job that year and was unable to find suitable employment for quite a while. Joan’s recovery took a long time, and she has had some side-effects that have caused some permanent consequences. She was able to go on disability after a few years, but things were very hard up until then.

I was able to gain employment working from home as a customer service agent, which I hated more than I can say. Vegas life no longer held the allure for us that it had before. When my son and his wife offered to move us up to Idaho, we took a year to prepare and save, I retired, and we moved this past July, after eleven years and ten months in Las Vegas. 

Do I miss Vegas?  Tough question. I miss the early years we lived there, but with Joan’s disability and my mobility issues, life was very hard for us toward the end. Compounding the situation was a violent downstairs neighbor who (we are quite certain) beat his wife and threatened us with frequent loud rants and pounding on the walls, and we felt unsafe. We became depressed. It was time to leave Las Vegas.

Our move was smooth and fun. My son and his wife drove their truck with an attached trailer containing our stuff, and Joan and I rode in our car.  We took two days to drive and very much enjoyed the sights and scenery on our way to Idaho. The rest of the summer has been spent happily settling into our new home.

I do miss the few friends I made in Las Vegas, but thanks to the magic of social media, we can stay in touch.

This post is to honor those victims, families, first-responders, and residents of Las Vegas. I am proud to hear of how Las Vegas has rallied around those who have lost and who are suffering. I lived there long enough to know of the resilience and compassion of Las Vegas natives, and never expected any less than the amazing response they have given during this saddest of times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WTF Wednesday – Now where did I put that?

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This post is dedicated to three distinct demographics.  Well, distinct might be a bit strong, not to mention overused, so perhaps I should just leave that pesky adjective for another time and purpose. Now that I think of it, demographic might be a little optimistic for me, and since I have not checked with Wikipedia, Alexa, Siri, or my better half, I’ll just leave that one out, too.

So, where were we?  And where did I put my reading glasses? Gosh, this return to blogging is not going as smoothly as I had hoped.

I found my glasses. They were on my head. However, I left my coffee cup somewhere. I will be right back.

Okay, let’s start over, shall we?

This post is dedicated to those unfortunate individuals who seem to be constantly searching for things they misplaced. Those poor souls include, but certainly are not limited to:

  • The older generation.
  • Post-menopausal women.
  • Overly-busy people of any age demographic (I conferred with the toddler next door, who assured me demographic fits in this case)

Mild forgetfulness is quite common for us old geezers  folks of a certain age. One of my favorite games to play is “find that fucking whatchamacallit.” To play, you simply walk into a room to retrieve an item or to perform an activity that was pre-planned. Upon arrival in said room, your brain puts itself on hold, and you can no longer remember why you entered the room in the first place. To win the game, you must find that fucking whatchamacallit. So fun!

When I went post-menopausal, I had all the normal symptoms and behaviors. I sweat. I ate. I ate some more. I forgot things like…oh heck, I forget what I forgot. I bought a gun (I dreamed about buying a gun. I also picked up a bad case of lying.) I took naps. I drank buttermilk and ate pork rinds. I scared kids off my lawn. Okay, I never really did that last one, but it’s on my bucket list for the next geezer level (which I hear allows for frolicking and weird mood swings.)  Like I said before, it’s all quite normal. I’m no authority or doctor, but I do play both on my blog.

I used to be an overly-busy person until I located and neutralized that behavior. Many years ago, I took my four-year old over to my friend’s house. My friend had agreed to babysit while I went to work, which meant some much-needed overtime. I quickly said my goodbyes, then went out and got in my car. It took a couple of seconds before I realized I had sat down in the passenger’s seat instead of the driver’s seat where I belonged. When reality set in, I looked up and saw my friend standing in her doorway, holding my son, and laughing her ass off. Busy is highly overrated.

I am now happily retired. I am a huge proponent of uni-tasking. Oh, I still forget things, but I have a lot more time to play “find that fucking whatchamacallit.”

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Thank you for visiting! Please stop by again soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes, This Looks New and Eye-Catchy! But…

Hi everyone!  I’m so excited about my new website, I can hardly wait to unveil its awesomeness.  However, right now there’s a lot more stuff in my head than on here. Soooo.  We have to wait a bit longer. And by “we” I mean you and me; but, we also have to wait on my head. Trust me when I say it’s a daily struggle.

So, just in case you stumble upon this (divinely delicious) site as a result of drinking or drugging or a misdirected pornsite accidentally, this space is still under construction!  Back away from this page slowly. Forget what you saw. OR! You could check out the fabulousness of what is here so far. Your choice. Life is full of choices. Like chocolate. And kinky sex. And eating peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches. 

But I digress…

See you soon! Well, as soon as I figure out what really is in my head. Oy!