Why they do this, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because it makes them feel better to put down those less fortunate than themselves.  Maybe it’s because they are truly ignorant of what it’s like to be poor enough to have to use programs like these. Maybe it’s because they’ve been brainwashed by their favorite politician, news program or religious leader to think that people on welfare are lazy and selfish.

No matter what reason they use, the people who post these memes are the ones who are wrong. Wrong for not bothering – or outright refusing – to fact-check. Wrong for lacking compassion. Wrong for not using common sense.

The most recent meme that’s been floating around is the one complaining about restaurants accepting food stamps. Again, those posting it or “liking” it are guilty of not fact-checking and not using common sense.

Federal SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) policies allow each individual state to determine whether or not to allow food stamps to be used in a restaurant. Some states do, some don’t.

Now before you get your panties in a wad, or start screaming, “See, I told you so!”,  there are a few things you should know about how it works, who qualifies, and the reasoning behind the policies.

You can’t just walk into any restaurant willy-nilly and use food stamps to pay for a meal. There are restrictions.

The restaurants have to be approved to accept food stamps. That approval isn’t handed out to just any restaurant. There has to be a reason that restaurant gets approval. Most of the time, it’s because it’s in an area where there are a high number of people who are qualified to use food stamps in restaurants, or in an area where there aren’t many other options for qualified food stamp users.

Then there are the qualifications for food stamp recipients. The only people who qualify are the elderly, disabled or homeless, and rarely, those who don’t have functioning equipment at their homes (refrigerator, stove).

According to the USDA website:

“With very few exceptions, SNAP benefits cannot be used in restaurants – less than one-tenth of one percent of SNAP benefits were used in restaurants in FY11. The law permits States to authorize restaurants to serve meals to some elderly, disabled, or homeless SNAP clients, who are unable to prepare meals at home. Only four States have chosen to do so.”

In the Pennsylvania SNAP handbook, section 503.3 describes what is and isn’t allowed:

SNAP benefits may also be used to pay for meals prepared and served by any of the following:

• Authorized meal-delivery services
• Communal dining facilities for the elderly or SSI households
• Rehabilitation centers for drug addicts or alcoholics
• Group-living units
• Shelters for battered women and children
• Authorized providers of meals for the homeless
• Authorized restaurants serving meals to the homeless, elderly, or disabled   7 CFR § 271.2(9)

Only homeless persons may use SNAP benefits in qualified restaurants. The CAO must issue a PA 2SP to the eligible client. The CAO must make the case record show that a PA 2SP was issued as a controlled document and include the name of the person in the household who is eligible for the qualified-restaurant program.

The reasons for allowing such provisions are because “homeless individuals don’t have kitchen spaces to cook meals, so buying unprepared foods at a grocery store may not be all that helpful. Those with disabilities might have a harder time cooking. And lastly, studies have shown that seniors are less likely to eat if they don’t get hot meals.” [source: Findlaw.com]

Anyone who disagrees with food stamps being used in this manner are also guilty of lacking compassion. If you continue to post these memes, do so at your own peril, because I will call you out on being willfully ignorant, bigoted, heartless assholes.

 
*definitions*:

ig·no·rant

[ig-ner-uh nt]

adjective

1. lacking in knowledge or training; unlearned: an ignorant man.
2. lacking knowledge or information as to a particular subject or fact: ignorant of quantum physics.
3. uninformed; unaware.
4. due to or showing lack of knowledge or training: an ignorant statement.

big·ot

[big-uht]

noun

a person who is intolerant of any ideas other than his or her own, esp on religion, politics, or race.

I have fond memories of my grandfather, even though he died when I was 6 years old. I remember times spent at their little corner store, and a flash of a memory or two about times spent playing with my cousins in my grandparents’ backyard.

My grandmother moved to Arizona around 1980 when I was about 10 years old. I don’t even remember the occasion of her actually moving! I just remember that she lived in Tucson, and I had the worst time remembering how to spell that word.

Some time in the early 90′s,  my grandmother came for a visit. She brought her “friend” with her – a man named Joe. I was living in my own place, and dating the man who would be my first husband. I remember my grandmother taking a bit of an interest in me and my life, and asking me to show her and Joe around town a bit. They both sat in the back of my car like teenagers while I drove them around. It was kinda cute.

The next memory I have of her is when she was quite ill, and came to live with my father for a period of time in the mid 90′s. I remember visiting a couple of times, and how miserably grumpy she was, and not wanting to visit with her much because of her bad mood.

She ended up moving back to Arizona, where she eventually died in 1998. By that time, I was 27, divorced from my first husband, in a committed relationship, and my Son was just over a year old. I don’t even remember if she met my Son, or even knew I had a child.

As you can see, I wasn’t very close to my grandmother at all. Most of what I know about her came from stories I heard after she died.  I’ve learned a good bit more about her since I’ve started doing genealogy research, which ironically started because I found out her side of the family came from Native American ancestry. I wish I’d known that growing up, and had taken the time to talk to her about what she remembered.

I’ve discovered that she and I have very similar qualities to our personalities.  We both have a love of learning. We are excellent typists. And looking back, I’m thinking she wasn’t mean as much as she was someone who embraced her inner bitch, just like I do. In fact, I think she’d be pretty damn proud of me if she knew the person I’ve become.

The best evidence I have for this conclusion are the letters I uncovered while going through old photo albums. It looks like my grandmother was also an activist, in her own right! And that makes me grin from ear to ear!

The Case of the Missing Bandshell and Broken Lights
a.k.a. – The Verbal Bitchslap My Grandmother Gave the Mayor of Wilmington DE

Rockford Park is in Wilmington Delaware. It is one of the sites for the Summer Concert Series – free concerts in the park during the summer. This was something my grandparents enjoyed doing together in the late 1960′s.

There were some problems that occurred that must’ve made my grandmother downright furious, judging by the letters she wrote to the Mayor of Wilmington and the newspaper.

She received a note back from Mr. George Sargisson, on a membership letter, which is undated. The note at the bottom reads:

Many thanks to the [surname redacted] – thanks, too, for your letter to mayor, Frank, etc. It’s to the point & should get some positive results. Hope future concerts go OK & without a hitch.
George Sargisson -

Things didn’t go any smoother the following week, prompting my grandmother to show her skills at persuasive writing yet again. I may have to try this tactic some time in the future!

Finally, she received a reply from the mayor’s office. I must give proper kudos to the mayor’s Administrative Assistant, Allan C. Rusten, for a brilliant and funny reply!

Things seem to have been very different 40+ years ago … these days the typical kind of reply you’ll get from someone in office is a canned response that usually doesn’t even address your reasons for writing to them in the first place.

I’m also very impressed that the mayor remained calm and objective in his reply to my grandmother, even though he launched a bitchslap right back at her for her insinuation. (an insinuation that really pissed me off when I read it, thinking that not much has changed in 40 years when it comes to the vitriol aimed at those less fortunate)

And lastly, another written note from the Executive Director of RP&S, Wilmington DE. The note reads:

Thanks Mrs. [surname redacted], for showing Hal’s letter. You certainly got ‘em “moving” (slowly) – saw Hal yesterday at Rotary & told him that there were still 3 lights out! Hope remainder of concerts go well. Thanks again.
George Sargisson
7/18/69

Incidentally, there was a write up about George T. Sargisson in 2007, about what he accomplished in Wilmington. There’s also a little bit at the end about the permanent bandshell that my grandmother was talking about. He appears to have been quite an extraordinary guy. I’m sure my grandparents were lucky to know him.

Information about Harry G. Haskell Jr (who, as of this writing, appears to still be alive!) can be found on Wikipedia, or here at this link.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,700 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

I have the opportunity of a lifetime.  My Girl Scouts troop, 11132, is planning an educational trip to Europe.  We will be visiting London, Paris, Rome, Florence, and Capri.  My mom has been telling me how wonderful and important travel can be, and now I will get to find out for myself.  To make this happen, I am working constantly on fund raising projects with my troop.  We are busy almost every single weekend trying to supplement our trip.  I even told my mom I am willing to give up every Christmas present and birthday gift from anyone, for the chance to make this dream happen.  Opportunities like this may come only once in a lifetime.  Will you help me to make this dream a reality?  My trip will cost about 4000.00.  That’s not too bad, considering it will be for 12 days and includes many famous places and museums.  It includes my airfare, and most of my meals as well.  I will try to send a postcard to every donor!  I will also put together an online photo album of my trip, when I get back, so that you can share in my journey.  For every 2 hours I am in Europe, it will cost about $25.00.  If you would be willing to sponsor at least two hours of my trip, that would be amazing.  If not, every little bit helps!  Oh, and feel free to donate more if you want, or to sponsor a few hours as a birthday or Christmas gift.  Thank you so much for supporting me in this opportunity.  I may never get another chance like this, so to all those that want to help, Thank YOU!

********************************************************

If you can help at all, please click thru:

The first time it was pretty minor. I belong to a FreeCycle group on Facebook. One of the group members expressed an interest in something I was giving away, and made an appointment to pick up the items. Then she never showed up. This occurred several times over the course of a week. When I finally told her that she had one last opportunity, or I’d put the item back up as available, she finally did show up to pick up the items. Not a big deal, but an annoyance.

The second time was with another person from the group. We arranged to meet at a place halfway between us at 7p. We waited … and waited … and waited. I called several times, left text messages, and never received any response. And this was after speaking to her at 6:30p to confirm our meeting. Luckily we didn’t waste any gas money, since we were already heading that direction, but we did waste a good bit of time. We waited over an hour before leaving the location. Later that night, I got a text message saying she’d had a medical emergency and went to the ER. She apologized profusely, and asked to schedule another time. After a week of messaging her and never getting a response (all the while she was responding to other posts in the group), I finally gave up trying.

The third disappointment came from a “friend” (and I use that term loosely now) who offered to sell me a TiVo she no longer wanted, and I desperately wanted. We agreed on a price, then we agreed on how to ship it and how she would receive payment. Very straightforward … she sends it COD, I pay for the item and shipping costs. No games; no worry that either one of us gets screwed in the deal. She tells me she’s sending it one day, but then doesn’t because of the weather. Ok, I can understand that; not a problem. She says she’ll send it the next day. Later the next night, I send her an email asking if it was sent. No reply. A week – and several emails later – and still no reply. But I know she’s still alive, since I see her posting stuff every day. I respond to one of her posts, asking her to check her email. I know she saw my comment, because she responded to it. But still no email. Nothing from the Post Office, either. This one really pisses me off since it concerns money. Thankfully I didn’t send her the money first, which is exactly what I was thinking about when I decided on having it shipped COD. But ya know, when you say you’re going to do something, at least have the fucking decency to do it or explain why you’re not. Don’t just leave someone hanging!

The final knife in my back happened a couple of days ago. A good friend of ours was in desperate need of financial help. Being who we are, my Husband and I decided we could pitch in and help our friend. We don’t have a lot, and we struggle financially most of the time, so we know what it feels like and try to help people in any way we can. We were in just such a position to help when our friend said he needed help, so we loaned him $100. A few days later, I noticed that he was distancing himself from us. I chalked it up to his feeling a sense of shame that he had to ask for help. But then he decided to pick a fight for no apparent reason. That’s when I realized exactly what he was doing – trying to dissolve a friendship, expecting that we’d just write him off and he wouldn’t have to pay us back. A couple of days, and a couple of conversations later, I had confirmation of this. And ya know what … KARMA is a big ol’ bitch! And I have a memory like a fucking elephant!

So, for the foreseeable future, my wall goes back up and The Bitch comes back out. I trust no one. I give money to no one. I don’t go out of my way to help anyone. I will fulfill any commitments I’ve already made, but I won’t be making any more for a very long time.

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” – Maya Angelou

“Behind every bitch is an asshole that made her that way.”

After reading a few things about it, it does sound pretty much like what I’m feeling. Everything I read says it’s normal, and that only in rare cases does it indicate something more serious.

But since there was only 1 instance of a PAC being recorded, does that put me back at square one, with still no official reason for the ER visit 2 months ago? Was the 1 recorded PAC a fluke, having nothing to do with anything? Or did the Holter Event Monitor just not catch it every time, and this really is the only thing “wrong” with my heart?

It doesn’t explain the shortness of breath, racing heartbeat, and the numbness on my right side the night I called for an ambulance. What caused those symptoms?

Should I pursue this further, or just let it go for now? I will have another appointment with my doc soon, and maybe by then I’ll have worked this all out, and will be able to come to a decision. For now, though, I’m filled with more questions than answers.

Sources:

• Premature atrial contraction – Wiki
• Premature Atrial Contractions (PACs) – Cardiac Health
• Heart Rhythm Disorders – MedicineNet
• Causes of Premature Atrial Contractions – LiveStrong
• Premature Contractions – American Heart Assn.
• Heart Rhythm Disorders – WebMD

About a week after the group was started, AF invited me to join, explaining what it was about. I loved the idea of a community coming together to help where Welfare, food banks and other charity services couldn’t or wouldn’t, and I was more than happy to help out wherever I could. Many people are turned away from services because they make “too much money” (she says while rolling her eyes).  This group’s purpose was to fill in those gaps by people in our community.

After a few days, things started to get really organized, with several people in a 50 mile radius becoming drop-off/collection points, each with their own designated list of nearby towns. AF and I teamed up for our local area, since he has transportation at all times (I don’t), and I have storage space (he doesn’t). I was pretty excited to be helping out, especially since our family has been in that “gap” for quite some time, and I know how frustrating it can be to not have any money, yet not qualify for help.

Things went great for about 4-5 weeks. We still weren’t perfectly organized, but we’d started to gain members, and people were coming out of the woodwork to help, and to be helped. We made some emergency deliveries of food for a family that had nothing, and people were working together nicely to help each other out. Items were being posted that were available, and people were posting items they wanted (known as ISO=in search of, or INO=in need of).

Unfortunately, as these things so often go, people started abusing their privileges, and even worse, the admins running the group started abusing their power. I’d had some clues that this was coming, but I tried to ignore them, as I thought it was just “growing pains”.

The first clue was the apparent illiteracy of one of the admins. Sometimes it would take reading a post 2-3 times just to understand what she was trying to say. I kept my grammar nazi in check, because this was for a good cause, and I understand that some people have serious problems with spelling, grammar and punctuation. But as time went on, it started to bother me that the “face” of the group – the one everyone had to interact with – couldn’t communicate clearly.

The second clue was that both admins seem to revel in drama. Whether it was good, bad, angry, happy or sad, it was like watching a badly written school play. If there was good or happy news, there was gushing and crying. If there was bad or sad news, there was pouting and crying. But the absolute worst drama (I could overlook the other two) was the drama that played out when someone got their feelings hurt, or when people weren’t “playing by the rules”. That’s when the page-long sob-fest would happen. It usually went something like this: “I started this so people could help others, and now people aren’t obeying my every command, and someone has hurt my feelings, and I want everyone to feel sorry for me, so I’m gonna sit here and cry and threaten to shut down the group, until I get 20 comments that I feel sufficiently give me the credit I so rightly deserve!”  And people ate it up! Comment after comment would pour in, giving them them the attention they craved.

And speaking of attention, the 3rd clue was when people started to say thanks for creating the group. Instead of just saying “you’re welcome”, the admins lavished upon themselves all the admiration they could muster. Each admin would heap praise on the other for their wonderful idea. I couldn’t help but wonder why AF was left out of this praise-fest. Remember him? I did, but apparently neither admin did. He hadn’t even been made an admin for the group, and was never mentioned at all. So I sent him an email and asked what happened, thinking maybe he’d had a falling out with them or something. He confirmed that he was just as confused as I was, and was actually getting a bit angry at the behavior of his friends. So I posted a comment in the midst of the praise-fest, asking whose idea the food collection/distribution was, since I knew that was AF’s idea all along. Imagine my (and AF’s) surprise when they took THAT credit, too!

It was at this time that I started to lose a major amount of respect for the two admins. One or two of those clues I could have over-looked. But all three? It was just too much. So I pretty much went quiet, and just read what was posted for the next couple of weeks.

Then something even worse happened. Clue #4 for me. Because a couple of group members were abusing the group privileges, the admins took an extreme hissy-fit, made quite a few drama posts, and completely changed the rules of the group. The new rules are as follows (group name, and individual names blocked for privacy):

No longer were people allowed to post INO or ISO. People now just had to sit and wait, and hope that something they needed was posted by someone else. Or they could go to another group to ask for things. Because, you know, only people who are giving things are important to this group now. Group participation took a drastic slide. All of the posts that were INO or ISO were deleted. When asked why, one admin said it was “clog[ging] the room up” and that it “took me over an hour to delete all ISO it was bumping down many things that folks offered to give an noone seen so it was time for the ISO to go”.

I really started to dread being a part of this group. But I’d made a commitment, and I intended to follow through on it.

Over the next couple of weeks, things progressively got worse. The admins weren’t following their own rules, but would chastise others for not following the rules. Sometimes very rudely. But mostly treating others like they were children, not capable of an intelligent thought. People started posting “prayer requests”, and pictures of their newborn babies, and information about their family, and sob-stories. Every day, my notifications were filled with these things … these things that have nothing to do with what the group was created for. I started to disregard the notifications altogether. If someone tagged me in a post, I didn’t see it, because it was too much to wade through. I started scrolling through the group, to see if there was anything truly important posted. It started to take me forever to scroll past all the prayer and drama nonsense, and find an actual post where someone is giving something away. In case you think I’m blowing things out of proportion, here’s a look at my scroll-bar:

I went back to the rules again, to see if anything had changed that they neglected to tell people. Nope, everything was still the same. I carefully read the rules, thinking I’d missed something. I hadn’t. And it started to grate on my nerves. My time is valuable, too, and I felt the admins had lost respect for their members by allowing certain things.

• The group was now for ONLY posting things you are giving away, and no ISOs would be allowed. It’s very clearly listed at the top in ALL CAPS, and again as rule #6, so you can’t miss it. Yet, the admins themselves would post ISOs, and give “special permission” for their friends to do so, as well.
• No rude comments, or treating others without respect. Yet, the admins were frequently rude to those “breaking the rules”. They weren’t respecting others’ time. They certainly weren’t respecting others religious beliefs (I wonder if they know that Jehovah’s Witnesses and other religious groups don’t publicly pray? I wonder if they know that not everyone is a Christian? I wonder if they’ve ever read Matthew 6:5-6 ?).
• No private information? I now knew all sorts of private information about members. Stuff that hackers could easily use to break into accounts. Baby names and birthdates, peoples’ whereabouts, etc.
• Rule #8 says that “bumping” is allowed once every 24 hours.  Presumably, this is to make it fair to everyone, so their posts aren’t always at the top of the page. Which is great. Except that every time someone comments, it “bumps” the post to the top of the page, AND creates a notification. So for all of those INO prayer requests, and the dozens of comments on each one (where everyone has to announce that they will pray, so everyone can see that they’re such good Christians), all of the other legitimate posts get pushed farther and farther down the page, and everyone is inundated with a ton of notifications.

So, I’d had enough. I decided to behave like an adult, and bring my concerns to the admins, in private. I thought the best course of action was short, sweet and to the point, showing the rules and the breaking of the rules, and offering a suggestion. I probably wasn’t as calm and collected as I could have been, but I wasn’t mean or rude.

What I got in return didn’t surprise me in the least. It was basically the same response I’d get from a 12 year old having a temper tantrum because she didn’t like what I was saying. I was, however, hoping for a bit more maturity, and maybe seeing things from outside her own little bubble.

I figured I’d just let things go, and if it continued to bother me, I’d just leave the group without saying a word. But then, the inevitable happened. I should have seen it coming a mile away. I knew the admins were drama queens (remember the clues?). I guess I naively thought they could handle things like an adult this one time, since it wasn’t brought up in the group itself, but in private! I was wrong.

The other admin (the one I did not send the email to) posted this in the group:

After a whole lot of confusion by other group members, the admin that I emailed responded with this:

If they had told the entire story, instead of what you see posted here (which is the only thing either of them said), I might not be as upset as I am. But they both managed to twist things around, omit details, and once again start their drama and crying to garner support and accolades for themselves. Ironically, the drama queen that I emailed is the one that says, “i am so not into drama”.  Oy!

So you might be wondering – why did I type this all out, and go through all this trouble? All I have to do is leave the group, right? Well, it’s not that easy. First I have to explain to AF why I’m leaving the group, and leaving him with my end of the commitment as well as his. And since I had to explain it all anyway, I figured I’d just get it all off my chest at once.

And to be quite honest, I’m quite pissed off! Even though my name wasn’t specifically used, I don’t appreciate being dragged through the mud and used as just one more way for these admins to get attention. And because I’m sick and tired of hypocritical Christians, and this was the straw the broke the proverbial camel’s back. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, perhaps you might want to brush up on your Bible reading:

Matthew 6:1-4

“Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.

² “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.

³ But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing,

⁴ so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

I also want my story to serve as a lesson to others who are thinking about doing something similar. Please, by all means, create a group, a community that cares! But if you’re going to admin the group, there are a few things you might want to consider.

• Have a clear plan ahead of time. Know what you will or won’t allow. Some of the ideas from this group were fantastic! Some just made no sense at all considering the purpose of the group.
• Don’t make rules and then enforce them willy-nilly. Most definitely don’t make some people follow rules, while others are allowed to do whatever they want. In other words, don’t be a middle school clique.
• Listen to your members. Don’t just react in a knee-jerk way, having a temper tantrum when you don’t like criticism. Realize that most people want what’s best for the group, and may bring up points that you never considered.
• If you’re easily offended, or can’t keep your emotions in check, find an admin that can!
• Make sure your admin(s) are literate, and communicate clearly.
• Keep the drama out of the group! That includes the admin(s)!
• Unless your group is specifically a religious group, whose sole intention is to ask for prayers, keep it out of the group! Remember that all those prayers and prayer requests cause notifications, and push everything else way down, thereby eating up group members’ valuable time. Also remember that not everyone shares the same religious beliefs. Respect ALL of your members, not just those that believe the same way you do.

I hope that this group flourishes. But I have serious doubts that it will. It seems to be too great a stress on the admins, who can’t control their emotions or attitudes.  I still think the idea for this group is a great one, and hope that others find inspiration from it.

I hobbled down the stairs as fast as my aching body would let me. When I reached the bottom of the steps, I could see the silhouette of at least 3 people through the curtains. This can’t be good, I was thinking. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was almost afraid to open the door because I didn’t want to face whatever bad news awaited me. I reached for the lock, took a deep breath to brace myself, and opened the door.

Almost immediately, a microphone was shoved into my face, and I could see a television camera resting on someone’s shoulders. My eyes blurred as I struggled to make sense of what was happening, and hear the words that the man holding the microphone was saying.

“You’re the winner of our contest! How do you feel right now?!”, he all but screamed at me.

“What contest? What are you talking about?”, I asked as I looked around, trying to focus on the faces in front of me.

Just then, a familiar face came into focus. I blinked a few times, rubbed my eyes, and felt my jaw go slack. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, much less what I was hearing as the man responded, “You’ve won an entire day with Johnny Depp!”

This can’t be true, I thought, this must be a celebrity look-a-like. Johnny Depp can not be standing on my porch, looking at me with an amused smile on his face. Then it dawned on me what I must look like – bloodshot eyes with sleep gunk in the corners, hair that resembles a rat’s nest, indents on my face from my pillowcase, wearing the same ratty clothes that I wore the day before, and no bra underneath. I screamed like I was a twelve-year-old girl, stepped back, slammed the door shut, and leaned my back against the door.

I heard laughter, then Johnny said, “Shelli, this isn’t a joke. I’m real, and I’m really here to spend the day with you.”

Oh my gawd, he knows my name! And he knows what a horrible first impression I make! I felt totally mortified. I turned around, pulled the curtain aside a tiny bit, and peeked out. I was staring right into his face. He was smiling at me, trying to reassure me that this was real. My knees started to feel weak. I held onto the door for support.

“What’s going on?!”, a voice behind me demanded. I jumped about a foot in the air, screamed again, and whipped myself around. My Son was standing there with a worried look on his face. “Look!”, was all I managed to say as I pointed to the door. He shoved the curtain aside, and looked out the window. His eyes were huge as he looked at me. He didn’t need to say a thing, I understood exactly what he was thinking.

Again, I heard Johnny speak. “Are you going to open the door and let me in, or are we going to spend all day like this? Time’s a’wasting!”, he said with a laugh.

Matthew gently pushed me aside, then opened the door. I could do no more than stand there with my mouth hanging wide open, unable to speak or move on my own. Johnny walked in, shook Matthew’s hand, then extended his hand to me. I acted on instinct alone, and raised my hand to meet his. He said, “Nice to meet you, Shelli.” I mumbled something in return, my brain still not processing what was happening.

Matthew told Johnny to come in and have a seat at the kitchen table. Four more people walked into the kitchen behind Johnny … the man holding the microphone, the man holding the television camera, a woman and another man. Johnny sat down at the head of the table. Matthew walked over to me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the table to sit down next to Johnny. I once again realized what I must look like, and quickly crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to hide the fact that I was not wearing a bra.

The man with the microphone thrust it into my face again, and asked me how I was feeling about winning the contest. I turned to him and said, “How does it look like I’m feeling?! I’m quite sure everyone in this room can see that I’m beyond shocked!” He then explained to me about the contest that I’d entered, and what exactly I’d won. Johnny Depp would hang out with me until midnight, doing whatever it is that I normally do on a Saturday. We would have any transportation provided to us, all expenses for the day would be paid, and a crew would follow us around to document the events of the day. Other than that, it was entirely up to me how to spend the day.

I had managed to gain some composure, and started to relax a bit. Then I heard another knock at the door. Matthew jumped up to answer it. My Amish neighbors had come to see if everything was ok. They had heard me scream, and saw the extra vehicles in the driveway. They thought something was wrong and offered to help if need be. I invited them in, and told them what was happening. Two of the teenage girls started whispering between themselves. They weren’t speaking English, but we all understood two words very clearly: Jack Sparrow. They obviously knew who was sitting in my kitchen, and all of us broke out in laughter.

My neighbor asked if we’d had breakfast yet, and of course we hadn’t. She offered to cook a huge breakfast for everyone, while I got showered and changed. I thanked her, and raced upstairs to do just that.

When I returned to the kitchen, everyone had a plate in front of them filled with eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and fresh fruit. There was a glass of orange juice in front of each plate. I looked around, taking stock of who was in my kitchen, and I saw my Husband. I ran to him, wrapped my arms around him, and started talking a million miles an hour. He laughed and told me that he’d already been filled in on what was happening. Then he floored me by telling me that he had entered the contest in my name, which explained why I was so confused.

While we ate breakfast, Johnny asked about what plans I had for the day. We also talked about anything that popped into our heads. The conversation was light and friendly, and we just enjoyed each others’ company. When we finished eating, my Amish neighbor offered to clean up so we could get busy with our day.

The first thing on my agenda was to help my dad clean out my uncle’s barn. My uncle was selling the farm, and all the antique farm equipment was to be sold at auction the next day. My dad had a ton of family and friends meeting there at 8am, so we had to get a move on if we were going to make it in time. We all piled into the stretch SUV limo that was waiting in my driveway: myself, my Husband, my Son, Johnny and his four-person crew. We arrived at my uncle’s barn just in time. When we exited the limo, the faces of my family and friends were priceless! We made introductions, and then went to work.

The next eight hours flew by. Wherever I went, Johnny followed. He helped as if he was part of the family, taking everything in stride. At lunch, he helped me in the kitchen to make lunch for everyone. When the barn was cleared out, and everyone was leaving, they all came by to shake his hand and express their gratitude for his help. Everyone saw him less as a celebrity and more as a human being. I was anticipating the next eight hours.

We left my dad’s, piled in the limo, and came back to my house to shower and change. Johnny suggested that we go out some place nice for dinner, so we did. At the restaurant, we were swarmed by hundreds of people. I should have expected that, but after spending the entire day with him, it didn’t even occur to me that he was still a celebrity. To me, he was just one of us normal people.

After dinner, we went back to my house to watch a movie. We piled some large pillows on the floor in front of the couch. Bill sat in the recliner, Matthew stretched out on the couch, the woman sat on the loveseat, and the three other crew members walked around taking pictures and video. Johnny sat on the floor, propped against the pillows. I sat on the floor next to him, and laid back against his chest. While the movie played, he and I sat talking quietly. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie anyway, and the film crew was even more distracting.

I was terribly anxious about the day coming to an end. I didn’t want it to end! I kept looking at Bill and smiling. He was smiling right back, knowing that I was beyond happy, and that he’d made my dreams come true. I made the most of the two hours I had left with Johnny, just laying on his chest, talking.

At midnight, the crew packed up to leave. Johnny said goodbye to Matthew and Bill, and walked with me out to the vestibule. He reached out, took both of my hands in his, and expressed to me what a wonderful day he’d had. I apologized for putting him to work for eight hours, but he insisted it was fun to do something out of the ordinary for him. He asked if we could stay in touch. Of course I said yes! He released one of my hands, put his hand around my back, pulled me close to him and gave me a kiss.

Then I woke up. *sigh*  I don’t know why I have such detailed dreams, or why I remember them so clearly, but in this case, I’m extremely grateful for that ability! This will be one dream that stays with me for a very long time.

My neighbor came home with some large boxes filled with mushrooms the other night (apparently she’d gotten a fantastic deal on them) and asked me if I’d like a few. She gave me about a dozen button and 2 portobello mushrooms.  I love mushrooms, but other than putting them on salads or pizza, I don’t know what to do with them. I knew I’d have to find a recipe that was easy, since my husband hates mushrooms and wouldn’t be too eager to help me cook them.

So, off to Google I go. At first, all the recipes I came across were for grilling them like a steak. Unfortunately, we don’t own a grill. Instead of digging through hundreds of recipes that didn’t apply to me, I eliminated “grill” from the search, and this was the first recipe I found. It looked tasty and easy, just what I was looking for! Bonus: it didn’t contain any ingredients I’m allergic to!

All credit for this recipe goes to AKR at Treat a Week Recipes. I just did some slight tweaks for financial reasons, and halved the recipe. My edits in bold.

Serves 4

Ingredients
4 portobello mushroom caps
2 tablespoons olive oil - [vegetable oil]
3 cloves garlic, minced – [a few shakes of garlic powder]
4 ounces fresh spinach leaves – [frozen chopped spinach]
1 cup ricotta cheese or 7 ounces low-fat cream cheese
1/8 cup fresh parmesan, grated – [pre-grated, already in a container kind]
1/4 teaspoon garlic salt
1/2 teaspoon dried basil – [pesto seasoning]
1/8 chili powder (or to taste)
1/4 teaspoon black pepper (or to taste)
1/4 teaspoon salt (or to taste)
1 egg, beaten (omit if using cream cheese)
8 tablespoons bread crumbs (can use non-gluten bread crumbs), seasoned with salt and pepper – [I found that 1 tablespoon was more than enough for each mushroom]
1/4 cup mozzarella, shredded – [slices of mozzarella]

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 350F.
2. Using a paring knife, remove stems from all mushroom caps. Wipe down mushrooms with a wet cloth to remove all dirt. Do not wash or rinse mushrooms. Set aside.
3. In a medium skillet, heat oil and sauté garlic until fragrant. Add spinach and cook until shrunk down. Remove from heat.
4. In a small bowl, mix ricotta cheese or cream cheese and parmesan. Season to taste with garlic salt, dried basil, chili powder, black pepper and salt. Mix well.
5. If using ricotta, mix in egg.
6. Add spinach to cheese mixture. Mound mixture into mushroom cap. Top with 2 tablespoons of bread crumbs per mushroom, followed by mozzarella cheese.
7. Bake in a cake tin or roasting pan for 15-20 minutes until the mozzarella has turned golden brown.
8. Cool for 5 minutes and serve warm.

His plate

Then I sautéed the button mushrooms in butter, and seasoned them with chili powder, garlic & pepper, and onion powder. I drizzled a small amount of the leftover juices over the stuffed portobellos, and voilà – dinner for me and the boy!

My plate

In case you’re wondering about the different sized portobellos, it’s because they were given to me at two different times, and we didn’t compare sizes. My Son was the genius who came up with the idea to cut each in half, so we’d both get an equal amount to eat.

Using ingredients we already had, the mushrooms that were a gift, and a couple of things we had to buy especially for this recipe, we spent roughly $4 total for what may have cost $20 a plate in a restaurant.

Now, whose turn is it to do dishes? Any volunteers?!

*Disclaimer: my Son read the ingredients to me and did the math to halve the recipe, and my Husband showed me how to beat an egg. Hey, don’t judge me! ;-D

Letter written on 11 Nov 1972, by my Grandmother Lil, to her children.

This is Armistice Day, as I knew it as a child. It was a day set aside to commemorate the death of all those soldiers who lost their lives in the first World War.

Today we have December 7, known as Pearl Harbor Day. That is known as the day the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor and sent us into World War II. I was pregnant with Roberta at the time, and was only a young bride. I was petrified that your Dad would be taken away from me to fight in the war.

Your Dad was petrified that he might have to fight in the war. I know all men were afraid of the same thing and that Dad was not unique. But he was more so as even the fellows at the shop (Henderer’s) could attest. That is the reason for this cute drawing.

Slim Slicer was the artist. I was working at Laskin’s Market to help with grocery bill. Your Dad had been deferred because of the “War Work for the U.S. Navy” during most of the time and it was now 1945 and he could get no more deferments. I was pregnant with Louise and very much upset. The picture depicts Louise (inside me) and Roberta and me driving the grocery truck with your father, on the way to the draft board.

He never had to fight, Roosevelt died and VE Day came at the same time and Dad was told to wait for new orders, which never came through.

Love, Mom