Ginger Vodka Recipe

No pic for this one, it’s just not needed since this is so very simple.


1 Teaspoon of Fresh Grated Ginger
1 Cup Vodka

Add ingredients to small jar with lid.
Seal jar.
Shake a few times, and periodically.
Allow to steep for at least 4 hours.
Filter the mix through a strainer or cheesecloth when serving, or just enjoy the little bits of ginger in your drink.

Serving Suggestion:  Mix as you would in a screwdriver.  The ginger adds a nice little bite to the drink.
Alternately, pour over some Vanilla Ice Cream and make an ice cream soda for big people.

As usual there is a story behind this.  We were making a Ginger Pie.  It means you grate up a lot of ginger, soak the stuff in rum, and bake in the oven until it is a pie that resembles a pecan pie.  I don’t like pecan pie, particularly, but this was a very interesting pie.  Definitely not for everyone and since I like crystalline ginger, it was for me.

We had a LOT of grated ginger left over so I experimented.   Grabbing a washed jelly jar from under the cabinet, I added a measured teaspoon of ginger to the jar, a cup of vodka, shook the thing and walked out to the living room.   After watching a couple hours of Britcoms, a couple of old Simpsons episodes and surfing too many web pages, I got the idea to try this Ginger Vodka.

You know what?  It was good.  Not earth-shattering, but a very pleasant change of pace.  Since I have about another four ounces of ginger, I had better make up more of this stuff to use it up.

Weddings – Humor

Men and women have two distinct views about weddings.

The husband-to-be wakes up in the morning, plays a round of golf and counts the minutes until he has to be at the altar.

The wife-to-be, on the other hand, wakes up in the morning and is panicking. She immediately begins to organize things, making sure everything is in proper order. In her mind she is repeating what she has to do: “All I have to do is go down the aisle, get to the altar, and marry him.”

She repeats this over and over again, until she begins to shorten it to three words which she continues to repeat, “Aisle, altar, him.” “Aisle, altar, him.” “Aisle, altar, him…” 

A Professor, Golf Balls, Pebbles, and Sand

I have been seeing this particular one a lot lately.  I think my friends are trying to tell me something!

One of those stories that tells you something deep and philosophical about life… with a small twist.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full.. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

The professor then produced two Beers from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.The students laughed..

‘Now,’ said the professor as the laughter subsided, ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things—-your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions—-and if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house and your car.. The sand is everything else—-the small stuff.

‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ he continued, ‘there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life.

If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.

Spend time with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and mow the lawn.

Take care of the golf balls first—-the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the Beer represented. The professor smiled and said, ‘I’m glad you asked.’ The Beer just shows you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of Beers with a friend.

When Good Gadgets Go Bad

Time for music.  

Reaching for the remote, the red button is pressed bringing the radio to life.  Walking to the stereo, the power and aux buttons are pressed to power on the unit so the music can come out of the speakers.   It is not a remarkable stereo, simply used as an amplifier just for this purpose, to play internet radio.

The internet radio is a Squeezebox, but for that matter it could be an iPhone or a Tablet computer.  The sound is routed from the headphone jack to the back of the stereo.   It is a simple setup.

Waiting as the Squeezebox goes through its paces, it comes to life and waits for further commands.  The keypads on the remote are hit to make the thing go up through the list to find “Favorites”.  Unfortunately it has a headache and goes right past it looping around to the beginning of the list at “Now Playing”.

Pressing up again, it begins to go through the list one at a time on its own.  Faster and faster on a crazy blur of blue-green fluorescent letters in a blur until it stumbles back to Now Playing.

Press up again and for some reason, it bumps one at a time to get to favorites.   Then to the list of channels.  There are 63 of them.  Up is pressed.  Luckily it goes to the bottom of the list.  Press up again and it goes through the list in that crazy blur.   Then the radio jumps to the configuration menu and spasms there as if someone has hit it in the head giving it a concussion worthy of a trip to the computer hospital. 

Go home radio, you’re drunk.

Give up on that, turn on a different and much more basic radio until curiosity raises its ugly head again.  After all, why have just local FM when the world awaits you on a spastic little black slab of plastic?

This circular behavior and logic continues onward for a week.  The semi solution of a work around was that for the last five days it was left on Discover Trance for 24 hours a day because to turn it off meant that more head scratching and dancing in a blue-green blur would happen.

Finally today the solution was found.  The batteries in the remote were replaced after spinning them around in their mounts a couple times, and in the clarity of a second mug of coffee a “Why Not” moment of playing “Lets Replace The Batteries” occurred. 

Seems that the broken part of the electronic gadget was the human operating the remote.

So remember, if your electronics aren’t working… check the batteries.  The mind you save may be your own.

Laundry Logistics

Mine, Ours, and the Dog’s.

Doing my own clothes is no big deal.  Toss them in, pour the soap on, press buttons and go.

Ours are pretty much the same.   Grab everything from every corner of the house, and toss them in with the bed linens.  Temp-Boost Hot and boil the little suckers down.  Gives me some nice clean towels for the Kitchen, Bathroom, and the bed linens are nice and smooth once a week.

It’s the Dog’s wash that gets to be intriguing. 

You see, she wants to help.

Start with taking the linens back into the master bedroom.  Time to make the bed.   She’s lounging around taking it easy but hears some random sound and looks up.   I’m not in The Chair so she goes searching.   Since she’s a bigger creature of habit than even I am, this itself would give me time enough to get at least the bottom sheet on the bed.

Hurry, she’s only made it to sniff the laundry room!

Flip the top sheet out on the bed and there are paws padding through the kitchen out to the Florida room.

Quick, smooth the top sheet out!

And there’s the black nose sniffing past the night stand.  I’ve been found out!

Toss the pillow onto the bed, move over to the side that the dog is on and she backs up.

Now it gets fun.  I grab the spare set of dog mats, both of them, from the closet and toss one on the floor.  She moves to sniff that mat and of course the one on the floor that needs to go to the laundry now has 45 pounds of McNab Dog on top of it.

“Look!  Over there! (gesture gesture gesture)” Ok, forgot she’s almost deaf and just staring at the clean mat in my arms.   I “fake the throw” and she looks around moving just off the mat.  In one deft motion, I manage to make the old mat disappear.   Pointing at the new one, she goes back to sniffing it. 

Run, Quick!  Run!  Out to the living room.  Grab the other two mats before she follows!

Now I drop the one spare mat down on the floor and am inspected.

Have you ever seen a dog pout?

There’s a third mat that we’ve given her, of course, as her privileged position in life requires.  Since dogs are “Den Animals”, they like to be in semi-enclosed spaces.  That is why crate training is not a punishment, but more of a “natural state” way of being for dogs.   All except lap dogs.  Those little yappers get territorial of the few square inches of your lap that you need for important things like tech manuals, your lunch, and the plans to take over the world, Pinky.

Lap Dogs are a lost cause.  They can be trained but I have to wonder how some people manage.  I’m good at training dogs, but those little things?  Yer’ a better man than me Mc Duff!

That third mat is right next to my big chair and in a sheltered place just under a chess table in the corner.  Sometimes it is under it, other times it is repositioned with a precision that only a web footed paw can manage.

It is now gone and in my hand while I whisk it away to be heated and washed.

Yes, you’re going to be social today.  That third mat doesn’t go back until it’s well and truly clean.

Now she’s acting like the little girl next door who would say loudly to everyone when her security blanket was taken away…

I want my guggie!

Oh well, guggies will be washed, and little Lynn is now a beautiful woman who doesn’t need her security blankie either, Mrs Dog.

Bonus Blossom – Picture

A cold snap drew me out to the back yard.  Against the shed is a line of irrigation that I keep four separate orchids on.  Under each plant are some “starter pots” of cuttings.  It’s my little hydroponic drip feed garden. 

Fancy talk for pretty plants that entertain me.

The orchids are all from those “baby” plants you see in the big box stores, save one that my friends Kathie and Larry had given me as a present in a tiny little pot.  

Those babies are usually bought when you’re a snowbird, taken up to what ever cold and dry climate you live in and are presented as a challenge.   I was never quite up to that particular challenge, so one of the first things that I had done when I moved to Florida was see if I could get some to grow.

If you are a local and are patient, you can have some amazing plants.  All you need to do is wait.

This maroon beauty is a Bonus Blossom.  It is the first year that it had ever bloomed twice, this being the second complete set of flowers. 

Plants bloom where they are planted, but only when they are happy.  I’ve given them a home under the eaves of my little shed, water them with the ground water from my irrigation system, and pretty much ignore them until they show their true colors and gain my attention.   When that happens, the wheels start turning and I consider putting more out there.  

After all, who doesn’t like a little more color in their life?

Happy Holidays from – Picture

Yes, these are the famous Garbage Poinsettias that I wrote about last year.   My fence is lined with these things.  They’re all in bloom.  They’d be doing better if I fertilized them, but for being ignored and sitting under the orchid pots, they’re doing fine.

So Happy Holidays, yes, all of them.  Choose a holiday and celebrate it.  Or choose them all and cheese someone off!