I work from home, and as it happens, I live in the middle of nowhere on my family farm, affectionately known as "Lollygag Farm." As a consultant, my daily "office" attire is practically a uniform of the following – a gown or flannel pj’s, colorful socks, greasy hair, makeup-less, and usually no bra. My office dress policy is my biggest perk . . . it makes up for the fact that I have to provide my own insurance and pay quarterly taxes.
There’s almost no traffic on my road, so I do a lot of stuff outside in my pj’s: weeding the garden, checking the mail, BBQing hamburgers. You name it. Just this evening, my husband and I were standing outside deciding where we’d like to put our water tap. I was dressed in a nightgown, a winter coat, and UGGS.
Yes, civilization is coming to Lollygag Farm in the form of city water, and we suddenly have workers littered across our rural neighborhood. I should probably be more careful about my outside attire. I have already gotten into trouble. My doorbell rang one afternoon recently. My office is upstairs, so I had to scramble to put on clothes and get downstairs. I couldn’t find a bra, so I just threw on a sweatshirt. It was the mailman, who happened to be an old classmate of mine that I hadn’t seen in 20 years. There I was, bra-less, makeup-less, in a pair of yoga pants with 4 holes in them. I pretended I didn’t know him, and I thanked him kindly for the package.
Living in the country does give one an opportunity to commune with nature in a way that one just doesn’t have in the city. My husband, for example, likes to pee outside. He will walk down a flight of stairs past 3 bathrooms to pee outside. He’s not alone . . . I’ve noticed many men like to be "exposed" to nature this way.
A few years ago, we built a federal-style house, complete with an upstairs balcony. Knowing his propensity to pee outside, I made my husband promise that he wouldn’t pee off the balcony. But, I fear that he will someday succumb to peer pressure when his friend, Micah, is over. I’m afraid they’ll have a liquid shooting contest from the balcony, trying to hit my Jehovah’s Witnesses that visit every few weeks. I suppose I really shouldn’t worry – if they can’t hit the toilet, I seriously doubt they could hit servants of God from 14-feet away.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Six Degrees of Separation
I got an email today from Terry. It is close to the holidays, and I always hear from him during the holidays. My friendship with Terry, which I’ll get into in just a moment, is six degrees of separation at its very finest.
If you’re unfamiliar with the basic concept of six degrees of separation, it is simply a human web – six people or less connect any given human to any other person on Earth. For example, my dear friend, Renee, was once a neighbor to Kim, who happened to be a close friend of my niece (she is married to my husband’s nephew, Ronnie). Renee met my niece, Cindy, through Kim long before she met me. I met Kim and her friend, Kristen, through Renee. Kristen’s boyfriend, Eddie, used to work with Alan, Renee’s husband, at Foot Locker back in the day. I am connected to Matthew Maconahay through Kristen, and to Peter Frampton through Renee, and they are connected to P. Diddy through me, but these are all freaky stories for another day.
Terry and I are strictly virtual friends. A couple of years ago around Thanksgiving, a close family member was diagnosed with a terminal illness. "Reply to All" emails would go out to the family with health updates, as well as basic holiday scheduling for November and December. My inbox would fill-up with responses from everyone, but I kept getting these random emails from "Terry Arnold." He’d write, "I’m bringing coconut cake for Christmas," which was strange, since we have Christmas breakfast. No one else seemed to notice that we’d acquired a new family member named Terry. After about a week of this, I finally did my own "reply to all" email asking if Terry was a newly discovered sibling (stranger things have happened – my husband’s father was quite the tomcat, from what I understand). But, I collect strays, and I will certainly welcome anyone into the family who will bring coconut cake.
Terry emailed me back. He had been waiting for someone to notice his virtual "fly on the wall" presence. My sister-in-law had typed in an incorrect email address on the initial email, and Terry got in the loop from all the "reply to all" responses. Terry, currently residing in DC, turned out to be originally from TN. He was simply mesmerized by my family’s email correspondences . . . and these are the days of our lives.
I’ve learned a few things about Terry over the years. He’s in a band, he had a band-mate who beat an illness similar to the one discussed in our many family emails years ago, he makes a killer peanut brittle in the microwave (he sent me the recipe; he actually uses cashews instead of peanuts), and he never fails to ask about my family member who is currently fighting her illness with courage, strength, wit, and faith. But, he’s family now, after all. We’ll be celebrating our Thanksgiving this Saturday at my house at noon. And on this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for six degrees of separation. Don’t forget to bring the coconut cake.
Terry’s Microwave Peanut Brittle Recipe:
1 c sugar
1/2 c light Karo syrup
1 c chopped peanuts, cashews, or walnuts (I used cashews)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp butter
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
Butter cookie sheet & set aside. In 8-cup measure cup or 8 cup microwave safe bowl (I use glass) combine sugar & syrup. Mix well. Microwave on high for 4 minutes. Stir. Microwave for an additional 3 -7 minutes (this will vary based on your microwave. Mine takes 7 mines.) You want to microwave it until the mixture turns light brown in color.
Add nuts, cinnamon, & butter, & vanilla. Stir. Microwave for an additional minute. Take out of microwave. Add baking soda. Stir until light & foamy. Pour onto buttered cookie sheet. Cool 30 minutes or until firm. Break into 2 inch pieces.
If you’re unfamiliar with the basic concept of six degrees of separation, it is simply a human web – six people or less connect any given human to any other person on Earth. For example, my dear friend, Renee, was once a neighbor to Kim, who happened to be a close friend of my niece (she is married to my husband’s nephew, Ronnie). Renee met my niece, Cindy, through Kim long before she met me. I met Kim and her friend, Kristen, through Renee. Kristen’s boyfriend, Eddie, used to work with Alan, Renee’s husband, at Foot Locker back in the day. I am connected to Matthew Maconahay through Kristen, and to Peter Frampton through Renee, and they are connected to P. Diddy through me, but these are all freaky stories for another day.
Terry and I are strictly virtual friends. A couple of years ago around Thanksgiving, a close family member was diagnosed with a terminal illness. "Reply to All" emails would go out to the family with health updates, as well as basic holiday scheduling for November and December. My inbox would fill-up with responses from everyone, but I kept getting these random emails from "Terry Arnold." He’d write, "I’m bringing coconut cake for Christmas," which was strange, since we have Christmas breakfast. No one else seemed to notice that we’d acquired a new family member named Terry. After about a week of this, I finally did my own "reply to all" email asking if Terry was a newly discovered sibling (stranger things have happened – my husband’s father was quite the tomcat, from what I understand). But, I collect strays, and I will certainly welcome anyone into the family who will bring coconut cake.
Terry emailed me back. He had been waiting for someone to notice his virtual "fly on the wall" presence. My sister-in-law had typed in an incorrect email address on the initial email, and Terry got in the loop from all the "reply to all" responses. Terry, currently residing in DC, turned out to be originally from TN. He was simply mesmerized by my family’s email correspondences . . . and these are the days of our lives.
I’ve learned a few things about Terry over the years. He’s in a band, he had a band-mate who beat an illness similar to the one discussed in our many family emails years ago, he makes a killer peanut brittle in the microwave (he sent me the recipe; he actually uses cashews instead of peanuts), and he never fails to ask about my family member who is currently fighting her illness with courage, strength, wit, and faith. But, he’s family now, after all. We’ll be celebrating our Thanksgiving this Saturday at my house at noon. And on this Thanksgiving, I am thankful for six degrees of separation. Don’t forget to bring the coconut cake.
Terry’s Microwave Peanut Brittle Recipe:
1 c sugar
1/2 c light Karo syrup
1 c chopped peanuts, cashews, or walnuts (I used cashews)
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp butter
1 tsp vanilla
1 tsp baking soda
Butter cookie sheet & set aside. In 8-cup measure cup or 8 cup microwave safe bowl (I use glass) combine sugar & syrup. Mix well. Microwave on high for 4 minutes. Stir. Microwave for an additional 3 -7 minutes (this will vary based on your microwave. Mine takes 7 mines.) You want to microwave it until the mixture turns light brown in color.
Add nuts, cinnamon, & butter, & vanilla. Stir. Microwave for an additional minute. Take out of microwave. Add baking soda. Stir until light & foamy. Pour onto buttered cookie sheet. Cool 30 minutes or until firm. Break into 2 inch pieces.
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