tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249273251702271882011-08-01T19:05:00.286-07:00Musings and General Mayhem: "that and and a nickel will get you coffee."Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.comBlogger241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-77441473101056350192011-07-21T09:29:00.000-07:002011-07-21T09:29:07.629-07:00

I have moved the blog to Word Press, and have a new more sophiticated design thanks to Kristina! But, somehow we cannot get Feedburner to act correctly. Please visit www.nickelmoon.com and sign up for automatic updates agian. You won't be disapointed. Thanks Sharon

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-59296253936930277772011-04-22T08:56:00.000-07:002011-04-22T08:56:06.920-07:00

A few days ago I took a fall. I wished I could say that this was a prelude to a romantic interlude, but no. It was a literal fall. It was a simple move: step up one stair, put a bucket on the porch, swivel to the left, take a step down. Nope. I knew I was going to fall before I did. I knew I could do nothing to stop it. But being stubborn, I tried to. Twisted back, and over compensated. Ended

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-31598032951646232412011-02-02T21:33:00.000-08:002011-02-02T21:33:24.384-08:00

My father came to baking bread late in life. Born in 1920, he was of that generation of men who did not come into the kitchen unless it was to get more beer. Sure there were exceptions: a particularly good cut of venison, or a BBQ. Occasionally as we were growing up, he would have intense attacks of wanting to cook something “different”. Particular memories surround his desire to make real

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-33722938489110062312010-09-16T18:46:00.000-07:002010-09-16T18:46:03.476-07:00

Today I saw a man from the back, shuffling. no really--Shuffling across a parking lot. Slightly bent and shuffling. Well, sure, my eyes automatically started to avert. Eww—who wants to be confronted with a) old b) poor c) ugly ??? But I couldn’t avoid him. Our paths were going to bi-sect right at my car, so as my eys slid back to him I noticed more: Old black cloth slippers scraping along, old

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-57706688148639593082010-06-02T20:48:00.000-07:002010-06-02T20:50:34.855-07:00

WOW! Rosewater really comes from roses. I love cosmetics. I really do. I have never seen a Lancome deal that couldn’t seduce me, or an Ulta store that didn’t sing a siren’s song for me. BUT I hate spending the money for things that should be simple and pure. Yes, I am conflicted. One thing that really irritates me is toner. Really good for your skin, but geez, why so much for what looks like

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-67786493992074735732010-05-31T22:18:00.000-07:002010-06-01T07:03:04.923-07:00

I have been thinking a lot about food lately. Real food, fake food and good food. Just food. It’s Memorial Day weekend and most folks consider this to be the start of summer, so lately BBQ food has been coming up a lot. I am a California girl, where it is summer 350 days a year. The other 14 don’t count. We can fire up the grill whenever we want. I have been known to do it in the rain. Like

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-60828793115216404662010-05-18T00:58:00.000-07:002010-05-18T01:05:34.569-07:00

I live alone. I say this not for sympathy, but to set the stage. This is not a food blog, but food is a great deal of my life-so this musing is about that. Food. Discussion recently is loud and long for feeding your family real food, taking the time to cook, growing your own, etc. I take no exception to any of these, and welcome the company in that point of view. There is no question in my mind

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-85412242551581938502010-05-09T07:04:00.000-07:002010-05-09T07:04:26.099-07:00

Florence May 09, 2010 On a hill high above the Arno River is a garden. Its gate is almost hidden protecting it from all but the most resourceful. Terraces that fall for a thousand or so feet are joined together by twisty flagstone paths. The terraces are peppered by ancient olive trees draped by old rugosos. This garden has a single purpose: to be the ode to the bearded iris. Open only 19 days

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-17208895327652938212010-04-21T00:11:00.000-07:002010-04-21T00:11:28.421-07:00

It’s been 18 years. Guess on some levels it doesn’t matter how many days that is, or how many months have gone by, or even if I think about it every day. I don’t – think about it every day, that is. But today—and a few others, I cannot not think about him. It’s an appropriate piece for today, his birthday and since it's a birth-day of sorts for me, I guess it was inevitable that I think of  him 

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-9062767917071596882010-04-12T20:53:00.000-07:002010-04-12T20:53:21.530-07:00

You ever notice how many people say "I am done with _______"? I wonder if they know the next step is "I'm finished?" It is only when THAT unshakeable realization hits that you can leave the cube, or office or virtual desk or even a relationship. It is a really a great beginning, that “I’m finished”, and always proceeded by the feeling of “I have no control/I need control”. I have often thought

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-55198637987422382812010-02-09T19:27:00.000-08:002010-02-09T19:37:52.592-08:00

It’s interesting on how my mind will take flight—a word or phrase, and ZOOM! Off and running at a million miles an hour—usually off the current topic but so amusing to myself. Case in point: Today a tweet about recycling Valentines’ cards set me off, and I mean really off. Why recycle a Valentine, and then EEEWWWWW—who would wanna? Dear Mary, Darlene,           Be mine forever, Love Doug I

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-32433987558320849502009-04-04T11:24:00.000-07:002009-04-04T11:35:09.353-07:00

I mean really. What could I have possibly been doing that I have not updated this? And worse, not even finished the trip?Things are moving just too fast....2 Christmases, another Thanksgiving, babies being born and weddings celebrated, deaths to mark the real passage of time; and trips: Germany, then France to celebrate a 40th Bday, --(unfortunately not mine--that ship has long sailed!) and a

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-91041220663909744742007-12-12T14:18:00.000-08:002008-01-01T14:49:59.086-08:00

Wednesday Dec 12Remember that dotted road on the map----I feel like the cartoon character where there is a big flashing sign saying DON'T GO IN THERE but I can't see it....I had gotten so many good recommendations for Sgt Kai that I couldn't resist using him, and the bottom line here is that he is sooooooooooo worth it. BUT....there is that dotted road...He and I traded pages and pages of emails

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-86335097229883324582007-12-11T09:49:00.000-08:002007-12-26T10:10:56.346-08:00

Yui and her husband Kwan picked me up for my cooking lesson in a 1972 Volkswagen bus. BOY! Did that bring back memories.As soon as I go in the car I found that no one else was going to be in their class today because of some scheduling error…I immediately volunteered to come another day, but after some discussion we decided to continue as scheduled, and am I glad we did.Those of you who have been

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-61482021952402549732007-12-10T21:00:00.000-08:002007-12-17T21:16:55.001-08:00

Got picked up this am by Kampun, part of Sgt Kai's team. He is the one that is going to shepherd me around today.We head out early for the State owned Elephant Conservation center in Lamphun ( this is the one that you can go to for the 3 day training). Before we hit the hi-way, he takes me to his favorite laundress to get some laundry done. Unlike Cambodia it is by the piece, and we are told

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-72108523662077302522007-12-09T20:31:00.000-08:002007-12-17T21:00:38.081-08:00

Version 221a, AsiaNEVER EVER turn right when your instincts say turn left...the dotted road syndrome does not live in Sicily alone. ( See http://www.wired2theworld.com/sicily2003part3.html).This is foreshadowing for the next 8 days.I left the hotel put securely in a taxi at the Sheraton by Kristina (who is thinking that I will not survive without her) and the hotel taxi guy who personally picks

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-72491971865297558782007-12-08T01:51:00.000-08:002007-12-14T02:05:07.292-08:00

Tuesday Dec 4th thru Sat Dec 8 2007In my mind now the 5 days spent in Cambodia are compressed into picture bites: the first glimpse of Siam Reap airport ( What’s that beautiful building doing here?) to the last as we pull up and over the short airstrip to go back to Bangkok…We came to do good stuff, and we did. We came to see the famous temples of Angkor Wat, and indeed we did.Built in the 9th

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-3050424247900702152007-12-03T05:39:00.000-08:002007-12-13T18:32:03.684-08:00

Early to Market, Early to Rise, makes you….Er, not on vacation but up we go to the early morning local market of the type that we like to visit.DO not imagine your Friday evening Farmers market in Encino or Beverly Hills. Local wet markets have not only produce but meat and fish and whatever else is being eaten for the people that live here.Local markets are not for the weak of stomach. But they

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-31489700152516236932007-12-02T04:18:00.000-08:002007-12-13T18:35:06.493-08:00

Yes, it cudda been a movie.Tong is a force of nature—she picks us up at 6:30 to “make merit” before we leave for the floating market. Thai monks must eat only what they are given. They cannot cook for themselves or own anything except their bowl.Most Thai make merit every day. There is a precise ritual to follow-precise but simple. You must put the food you buy into the bowl in a proscribed

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-27004831730123040062007-12-01T03:47:00.000-08:002007-12-13T18:33:50.896-08:00

Day 1: Da Plane, Da planeIt’s late, and I am tired and cranky—both K and I suffer from pre trip anxiety—and both of us worked a full day. We have to consciously remember that is a vacation, not a death march. There were several “are you panicking” calls today.When we check in (me in business and K in Premium Economy) they are nice enough to give her a pass to go with me to the Lounge—in the end

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-14439790116295940292007-11-05T21:23:00.000-08:002007-11-05T22:29:13.954-08:00

I am in fever to make the pesto, but I do want to use my basil oil that I "put down" a few months ago. MMMM...The rosemary oil is crystal clear and very fragrant. The basil oil is cloudy and fragrant. What to do?When in doubt: apply heat. So I start to heat both batches of oil to be sure that is is good and safe. Of course that will mean that I need containers to hold the clean and pasteurized

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-9339588579601308372007-11-04T07:27:00.000-08:002007-11-04T08:00:23.621-08:00

Several weeks ago my dd claimed my gorgeous looking basil to make pesto. I was gone for two weeks and , well "I was gonna give some to you too, Mom." Hooray, pesto I don't have to make myself!LSS: she forgets and the basil turns to black mush in the fridge.This morning ( up early like millions of others who just don't see the need to change time ) I was wandering in my garden viewing and mentally

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-90687044471359157802007-10-17T07:37:00.000-07:002007-11-04T08:09:27.204-08:00

It's not that I cannot learn things, or that I am opposed to new things, it's that I am impatient with my curve...it looks simple, should be simple, right? NOT.I am impressed by my daughter's ability to absorb and do. And jealous. And in awe. Awe as in: where did she get this talent?I am impatient. I expect that a Vulcan mind meld will happen with all the things I want to know. And pissed when it

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324927325170227188.post-991224865405236212007-03-31T08:08:00.000-07:002007-03-31T08:23:33.853-07:00

any thing new is scary, but this freezes the brain...it's like eating ice cream too fast...let's see if it works ... this is Caper...he is the epitomy of CAT....

Sharonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09072625534385104977noreply@blogger.com0