Of Fish, Smells and Preferences by Konnie Enos

Okay, this happened.

I’m not the sort of person who can get up and immediately get something to eat. I generally wait a few hours so I’m usually eating brunch rather than breakfast or lunch. So, this particular day (last week actually) I’m in the middle of heating up my food and I got my recipe book out to double check the amount of one ingredient that I would need for the potato salad I was making for dinner. I left it open on the counter because I was going to make it after I ate.

It’s still setting open on the counter while I’m in in the middle of eating, when my daughter sees it.

“You’re cooking something?”

I told her I was prepping for dinner. Specifically, because the very last instruction for the potato salad recipe was to “chill at least one hour”. I was preparing it early enough so that it would chill for several hours.

There was also a point to giving it several hours to chill, instead of just one. It was so that I’d have enough rest after making it to have the energy necessary to be able to cook the Salmon patties to go with it.

I explained this to her.

She completely understood.

We both went on with what we were doing. Our only other discussion was on how much mayonnaise (dairy-free) we had (which wasn’t enough for the salad, so she couldn’t eat it, which is okay with her because she doesn’t eat it very often anyway), and the fact that between the two of us, we’d used enough dishes that morning to have to run the dish washer again.

After I’d eaten, the potato salad was chilling, and the dish washer was running, I return to my room and I was just relaxing on my tech, not really paying any attention to the passage of time, though I did know it was afternoon because it was basically when I returned to my room.

Then my stomach started growling. I was trying to decide if I should wait for dinner or if I needed a light snack right now, as I reached for my phone to see how much longer until dinnertime. My alarm saying it’s time to fix dinner went off as I picked up my phone.

Okay, so go cook dinner.

I’m gathering what I need for the Salmon patties when my husband pulled out the salad. “What’s this and can I have some?”

“Dinner, and I’m cooking dinner right now. You can wait.”

I then had to find him something to tide him over while I take the next half hour or so to prep and cook the patties.

Then, as I’m about half done cooking it my son comes out of his room.

“Who’s cooking what? It smells delicious and I’m hungry.”

Not only did my daughter and I tell him what I was cooking but made some comment about him not liking Salmon patties. My daughter’s comment was, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

His response? “Smells great. Tastes awful.” He grumbled about it while he found something else to eat. (Yes, sometimes we make meals that one or even two members of our household do not like. There is always leftovers for the others when we do.)

He continues grumbling about “that other food that looks and smells the same but tastes different.”

I finally figure out that he is talking about the Tuna patties I used to occasionally make but haven’t since I found the Salmon recipe and a decent source of canned Salmon. (Thank you, Costco.)  Which clues me on the fact that he prefers the Tuna patties so maybe I should plan on making some of them the next time I make Salmon patties. (I actually prefer the Salmon patties.)

Then he storms out of the kitchen when I open the potato salad, which I already knew he also wouldn’t eat, right next to him. Apparently, it’s more than just the flavor of that he doesn’t like.

So, maybe the next time I want Salmon patties and potato salad, I’ll also make some tuna patties. Though, since he also doesn’t like the potato salad maybe I should plan something else to go with it. My choices are the potato patties used to make with the Tuna patties, or perhaps some French fries.

On second thought, I’m not making two complete dinners just to appease one person, or even half my family.

I am not completely heartless.

I’ll make him some Tuna patties and potato patties next time. Or maybe talk his sister into making some French fries while I make the tuna patties, since he prefers fries.

Also, said son with be 24 tomorrow.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Of Handiness and Accommodations by Konnie Enos

When I got this new computer, I was irritated to discover that it’s smaller size meant that there was not a ten-key integrated into the keyboard. For various reasons, I use the ten-key frequently. The easiest, and rather inexpensive solution was to purchase an external ten-key.

When I got it, I plugged it in and placed it on the right side of my laptop.

I did this for two reasons.

The ports are all on the right side of my laptop and an integrated ten-key would normally be on the right side of the keyboard. I used it like this for months.

But one night, not to long ago (actually since my last post), I became rather irritated with it’s location on my lap desk.

I don’t even remember what irritated me. It could have been where all the cords were since at the time I was charging my laptop and listening to something, and all the plugin ports are on the right side. Or it could have been that my ten-key just seemed to be in a weird position or wouldn’t stay put where it was. (It kept sliding around.)

And this sliding around wasn’t even new. It did it so regularly that I had gotten in the habit of putting the thing in my lap, or at least on the bed on that side of my table. But for whatever reason this began to frustrate me, so I decided to move it the left side.

Obviously, I can still only plug it in on the right side, but it did come with a rather long cord. However, since I had kept it by where it was plugged in, I had not removed the twist tie it came with. To move it, I had to undo the twist tie, though I only let out enough cord to let it reach the other side.

So, I assumed that I would only have it on the left for that evening, while it was irritating me.

No.

I have just automatically placed the thing on the left ever since.

I didn’t even know why.

Sure, it isn’t sliding around as much, and the jumble of cords when I’m charging it and listening to something just doesn’t get irritating either. There is also the added benefit of being able to see the ten-key easier when the only light in the room is coming from my reading light, which is positioned on my side of the bed. My left side.

Anyway, since I moved the thing, I’ve found that I prefer it on my left side which I would not be able to do if it was integrated in the keyboard.

Now, a day or so after I started putting it on my left my son, and resident tech, noticed I’d moved it and asked why.

This started a conversation about why I’d moved it and, of course, the fact that I could move it precisely because it wasn’t integrated. But it also got me to realize exactly why I prefer it where it is now.

It’s not that it’s no longer sliding around. Or that there is no issue with the jumble of cords on that side. Or even that my reading light can now illuminate it.

It’s far more basic than that.

After this conversation I realized that with it on my right I would often remove both my hands from my keyboard and cross my left hand over to the ten-key to use it. With the ten-key on my left, I just slide that hand over an inch or so and use it without moving my right hand from the keyboard.

And believe it or not, it took some thought for me to figure out why that is though it should be no surprise to our loyal readers.

As we have pointed out multiple times we are mirror twins.

Not the completely mirror images, everything switched to the other side, even internal organs, sort because neither one of us has organs where they aren’t expected to be. We are just the sort of mirror twins who predominantly use the opposite hands.

And folks I’m the lefty!

No, that is not a newsflash. We’ve known that for a long time. But this realization just brought home to me exactly how much of our world is not accommodating to lefties.

And it’s not just keyboards. Manual can openers, scissors, and even potato peelers are not exactly designed for left-handed people. (I will admit that there is one type of peeler and scissors that are for lefties, but they are not the ones most readily available.)

In other words, throughout my life I have had to adjust to a world that was not built for me, and this is just another example of how I’ve adjusted.

Smile. Make the day a better day.

 

Of Being Twins and Mix-ups by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

The one thing about living so geographically far apart is that neither Konnie nor I have to worry about total strangers approaching us, thinking we are our twin. It has been years since such a thing occurred.

In fact, the last time someone I had not previously met approached me with a welcoming smile of someone seeing a friend, she actually knew full well I wasn’t Konnie. Her first words to me were, “You’re Bonnie, aren’t you?”

Of course, thanks to Facebook, I knew who she was on sight, and thanks to Konnie and her own big brother, she was fully aware that Konnie is a twin as well as that Konnie doesn’t live in this town, but I do. Logically, she knew I had to be Bonnie when she saw me, because logically she knew Konnie couldn’t be here.

Konnie has in the past been approached by someone knowing full well she wasn’t me, but also knowing she was my twin, but in that case, Konnie didn’t know the woman, or rather women, who approached her.

In that long-ago case, a coworker of mine quit and moved to the Tacoma, Washington area to help her own twin, who was in a wheelchair by that point. I let her know my twin sister was living in the area as well, but we both knew, because of the size of the area, the chances of them meeting were slim. A little over a week later, Konnie let me know that a set of older twin women, one in a wheelchair, approached her in the mall with the news that the one walking knew me.

At any rate, it has happened, but it is rare. Usually, we have instances more on the lines of the year I went to the Idaho Falls airport to fly down to Vegas for Christmas and a young lady already waiting at the terminal approached me at first with that familiar smile of recognition but then realization dawned on her and she switched to a more cautious approach asking me if I knew anyone by the last name of Enos.

Obviously, I do, several people actually, but knowing what information the young lady was after, I informed her that Konnie Enos was my twin sister.

And this is a story I’ve told before; the young lady was a friend of Konnie’s two oldest daughters and was on her way home from BYU-Idaho for Christmas. We were taking the same flight to Vegas.

Though in all our lives, I think the funniest occurrence that happened because of how identical we are was back when we both lived in Idaho Falls. Back then, we lived within a couple of miles of each other, and for both of us, the same store was closest.

I should point out that both of us sometimes went shopping with our families, and as at the time I had two boys and three girls, and she had three girls, let alone the size difference between our husbands, we should have realized the employees of that store were a little confused.

All of it came to a head one day when I left my family home and ran to the store to pick up a few things we needed, mostly milk, as I recall. When I arrived at the checkout, the salesclerk remarked something about forgetting something. I was totally confused by the statement because she didn’t ask me if I found everything I needed; she made a comment, which sounded like she thought I was making a return trip because I forgot something.

I frowned at her and told her that I had gotten everything I’d come for. Her response was to point out that I had supposedly been through her checkout less than an hour before. I chuckled at that and informed her I’m a twin. She hadn’t wanted to believe me but as I described Jerry and Tom and let her know which husband, and children were mine, and which were Konnie’s she eventually realized I was speaking the truth at which point to yelled for her coworkers at the other registers to hear, “She’s not cheating, she’s a twin!”

As I recall, the next time we went to the store, we coordinated and went together to drive home that we were indeed twins.

The last time we went to a store together, I recall a lot of people turning and staring at us as we went around the store, though no one approached us and asked us if we were twins, which is sort of what got me thinking about these sorts of incidents that and I’ve seen a lot of posts about identical twins getting confused for their twin, and or mixed up on social media lately.

At any rate, we don’t generally have that problem living so far apart.

Well, happy writing, everyone!

Of Sleeping and Tech Issues by Konnie Enos

Okay, picture this.

It’s 11 p.m. Tuesday night and I’m fighting sleep. Just as I give up and decided to go to bed, I realize it’s Tuesday and I not only haven’t written my post, but I yet again have no idea what I’m going to write about.

I moan but decide it would be better to get some sleep then get up earlier than I normally do and write it then. But as I’m preparing to shut off my computer I get this vague realization that I’d already posted twice this month. (This was last month.) So, I quickly check and low and behold it isn’t my turn.

Whew!

Then I went through all the steps necessary to go to bed, which if you know anything about women, especially menopausal women. It isn’t as easy as just laying down and going to sleep.

First, there was still the computer I had to put away because I certainly couldn’t sleep with it in my bed all night. Then there was insuring any other paraphernalia I had in the bed was also put away for the night. This could include any or all of my phone, my tablet, my planner, my purse, my water bottle, my pencil pouch, and both notebooks I use for tracking information. There is also the slim possibility my backscratcher was in my bed.

Though admittedly I clear most of that out when my husband climbs in bed, so at this time I only have my laptop, the external 10-key, and the lap desk that I use when I’m in bed. I put them away.

Once I have cleared everything in front of me, the next order of business is assuring that my cpap was ready for use, which of course, only takes a minute or so to do.

Then I can move to the next issue, which is not sleep. Because I am in fact a menopausal woman, if I don’t want to be woken up by a full bladder two or threes times before morning, I need a quick bathroom break before I do attempt to go to bed.

Now, when I came out of the bathroom, the issue became that Xavier wanted his own bathroom break and not being able to reach the doorknob or turn it, he asked the only person he could see who was up and about to do that for him. I reluctantly obliged but then realized my son was not asleep. His bedroom light was on. I did check his room. He wasn’t in there. He was in the kitchen getting a late-night snack.

I told him were Xavier was, and he’d have to let him in because I was already “dead on my feet”.

Then I went to my room, arranged my pillows and blankets, put on my cpap and turned it on, lay down and then turned out my reading light. I was still awake enough sometime later to be aware that my son come into my room and helped Xavier up onto my bed as he cannot jump up high enough to get on the bed himself. At his age, his only back leg is just not up to it. (He is a tri-pod.)

You would think that was the end of my saga, but it proceeds.

Come morning I get up and check to see if Bonnie had her post up yet, which she did not. I thereby woke her up to remind her it was indeed her turn. She then proceeded to write about all her woes pertaining to misplacing her phone. (Last week’s post.)

When she had it up, I attempted to open it so, one, I could read it, and two, I could share the link like I always do.

I could NOT open it. After all my attempts did not work, I urgently texted my residential tech support. Moaning, and rubbing his eyes, he dragged himself out of bed and to my room complaining about being woken up.

He could not actually fix the problem. (He said he needed more sleep first.) But he did figure out that it was an issue with our tower, not the site, and therefore was able to find a work-around for me. Thankfully we all have mobile hotspots.

I was one, able to read her post and spot three errors she needed to fix (which she did) then post the link. (She said she was able to find those three and two others, all because she was rushing to write it last minute.)

When I went to back to check if the issue was fixed several days later, I was able to get on to our blog without any trouble. So apparently, either my son was able to fix it, or it fixed itself.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

 

Phone Problems by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I’d like to say I’ve been really busy the last few days, but the reality is that I have only been doing a ton of reading, and not sleeping as much as I should, so right now I’m yawning my head off.

There isn’t much more to say about my life. Unlike Konnie, I live alone unless you count Patches, so a whole lot more happens at her house than at mine.

The most exciting thing that happened this last week was last Thursday. I got a ride from a friend to attend a church dinner, and when I returned home, I discovered I didn’t have my phone in my pocket anymore.

Now, as I live alone, and I have difficulty getting up the hill from my apartment, not having a phone is a huge problem, let alone that Konnie and I had made plans to brainstorm Friday morning, which of course I couldn’t do without a phone.

The first thing I did was email Konnie asking her to ring my phone, except by then no one was near where I dropped the dang thing. So, there was no answer.

Now I tried hard to think about when it could have fallen out of my pocket, which made me realize I hadn’t heard the thing hit the floor. It had to have fallen out onto a soft surface, as in the backseat of my friend’s car.

The biggest issue for me was how was I supposed to contact anyone local without my phone? It took Konnie reminding me I could access our church’s app which provides the contact information for all members in a person’s area on my computer.

I booted up my computer and accessed the app and was able to email my friend and my Relief Society President, letting both know that I felt my phone was in my friend’s car.

By Friday afternoon, I’d had no word from my friends, and I was wondering how I could manage without my phone. How was I supposed to even get help without it?

I briefly considered traipsing up the hill to my other friend’s apartment, but the hill and the steps up to her door seemed too daunting for me. Instead, I took a nap.

  I’d barely woken from that nap and returned to my living room to read my book when my phone announced I had a call from the friend whose car I’d ridden in the night before. The only problem is, I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

I even illogically considered that I accidentally put my phone in my coat pocket the night before, even though I knew if that were true, I’d heard my phone when Konnie called it.

For some reason, I was slow on the uptake, or a little dimwitted, but I eventually remembered that when the friend in question had anything to give to me and I didn’t answer my door, she would put the item through the cat door I had jerry-rigged into the living room window. When I walked over there, I immediately saw my phone on top of the cabinet below the window.

Now my friend isn’t the one who found my phone, it was her husband. It seems even before she got up Friday morning, her husband took their car to the Pocatello Temple. When he returned home, he walked in telling her he found a phone in their back seat.

And my friend immediately took it over to my place to return it. She said she called me when she returned home to make sure I got my phone. As her home is fairly close by car, and the timing for when she called me, I’d say, I woke up from my nap only seconds after she left the phone on the cabinet.

But I have my phone back!

I did reflect that if this had happened to Konnie, she has other people living in her home who would have access to the church app and could have called whoever she’d been with right away about the missing phone while I had to rely on sending emails, once I remembered to access the app on my computer. Before that, I really didn’t know how I could contact anyone local, short of wearing myself out to get to my neighbor’s apartment.

This drove home the fact that without my phone, I am cut off from talking to anyone, while for Konnie, it would have been just a mild inconvenience; for me, it was a major problem. That’s the problem with living alone and having mobility issues.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been so hard if I didn’t have to deal with that hill right outside my front door.

Anyway, happy writing, everyone.