Of course, the easiest way to open a can is with an electric can opener. But these handy small appliances may soon be obsolete.

A few years ago, Campbell’s Soup Company put out a line of soups with pop-top lids. Convenient, I suppose, for campers who forgot to bring along a can opener and, having caught no fish or shot any game, were now forced to eat the back-up meal packed by their pessimist wives.

The idea of pop-tops caught on and nowadays most cans have those ‘easy open’ lids. And just to be sure you pop that top, manufacturers make the bottom of the can round, unfriendly to any type of automatic or manual opener.

Soft drinks pop open easily, needing to make only a small hole to drink from. But try opening a large can of chicken, or 16 ounces of spaghetti sauce, without cutting yourself or spilling most of the contents. Thus the need for these instructions.

Pull up the loop on top of the can. Never mind you just broke a nail. Soldier on, you can fix it later.

Yank as hard as ever you can on the loop. This will probably break the loop away from the rest of the lid. Hopefully it will also make a slit wide enough to slip in the blade of a paring knife. With a twisting motion, increase the opening as much as possible.

When the lid is nearly off the can, you will again meet great resistance, making it impossible to budge the lid further. A pair of strong-grip needle-nose pliers should do the trick and finish the job.

Be sure to work over a pan in the sink to take care of spills. Also, keep a First Aid kit handy.

There. Isn’t that better than messing with an electric can opener?

These instructions come with a glossary of appropriate words that have no power to move the job along but might relieve some tension.

Next: How to open a peppermint without alarming the whole church.

What a wonderful birthday. Thank you, thank you, thank you all my family and friends.

There is nothing exactly like a Facebook birthday. I received over 100 greetings from near and far, old friends and new. There were images, videos, and throw-backs of memories. I “liked”every one of them.

Also, snail mail brought cards and the land line brought calls, all wishing me well. Such a wealth of attention leaves one thinking “it’s all about me!”

And speaking of me . . . I haven’t blogged here lately, have I?  Sometimes, for me, life gets too busy to write about. These past months have included a Writers Conference, trips, Lay Servant speaking, and a Dinner Theater production. (Pictured above is me speaking this morning in McRae.)

The weeks ahead will focus on a retreat to finish my 4th novel, Worth the Candle.

I will be here again around Thanksgiving . . . or surely by Advent.

Thank you all again for the good wishes.

Grace and Peace.

It’s often exciting when, at my age, something happens to me for the very first time in my life.

Not so much this time.

I have seen such occurrences in movies — usually for the comedy effect. But when it happened to me — well, humor is in the eye of the beholder.

Between Sunday School and Worship, I visited the ladies restroom and walked out engaged in conversation with my friend, Sandra. The hall was fairly crowded and as we zig-zagged, chatting away, she said, “. . . you have . . . uh. . . there is . . .”

I stopped and looked where she indicated. About a yard of toilet tissue, stuck to the bottom of my shoe, trailed behind me down the hall. It blessedly turned loose about that time, either by its own volition or the kindness of a passerby.

I didn’t retrieve it right then. First, because I don’t bend very well and second, someone needed to take care of Sandra! She was practically doubled over with laughter, unable to walk straight.

Momentarily she seemed to get a grip, only to be overcome once again. We parted at the door, since she sits on the back row and I was headed to the front with my family. I hope she made it okay.

The whole incident was a little embarrassing, and I have no idea how many others in the hall observed my foolishness.

But in the end I felt okay. At least I gave someone a reason to smile.

One day this week, my sister and I took ourselves to an indoor movie. It had been ages, but we had seen good reviews for the latest block-buster I Can Only Imagine and decided to not wait for Netflix.

Movie-going has changed a little since last we partook. The next town over has a Cinema with 8 screens, and as it turned out, the picture we chose was in a “VIP” theater. Which translates into “not senior friendly.” The aisles and seats were spaced to give plenty of room, but the hand rail for the many steps leading up to the seating area was about shoulder high. Okay, we’re short. But still.

We ventured only three rows up, still uncomfortably close to the mammoth screen, but about as far as we wanted to go.

The seats were large, comfortable-looking recliners. We sat and Betty immediately lay flat on her back.

“What did you do?” she asked me. The large chair jerked forward.

“I did nothing. I’m trying to figure out my chair.”

“Well, you made mine lay down. Sit me up again.” The chair made a move, obviously had second thoughts, and reclined even farther.

“I did not touch your chair.”

Finally, I asked a young patron to show me how to operate the recliner. The control was on the inside of the right armrest . . . where Betty put her purse. It had met with the controller and continued to rotate it every time Betty moved. (I told her it wasn’t me.)

After making ourselves comfortable — and by the way, the chairs really were VIP comfortable — we thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

The theater was about half full and people began filing out as soon as the credits rolled. We, however, waited for the lights to come on (so we could see where we were going), making us the last out of the theater. The usher was a little taken aback when he opened the door and saw two sweet little old ladies who apparently don’t get to town very often.

All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon. It reminded me of other times we went to the movies together. Our dad’s store was just down the street from the Plaza Theater in downtown Gainesville, Texas. I still remember the fun we had. 75 years later, it is still fun going to the movies with my sister.

And the picture itself? Definitely worth seeing. I have no doubt that you will enjoy it, just make sure you get to the theater early enough to get your chair fully adjusted, before they dim the lights.

 

I grew up in Texas during WWII, when everyone I knew had a garden. It was considered the patriotic thing to do.  So, if a person should want to eat greens, we had spinach, turnip greens, mustard greens, a leafy kind of lettuce, and poke sallet.

Missing from the line up was kale. I never heard of it.  Later I remember it being used as a garnish to bring color to the plate — never to eat.  I guess it’s a matter of geography because in England, kale was the go-to greens grown in their victory gardens during the Great War.

But when my youngest son, who makes his home in health-conscious Oregon, ordered an Island Green (spinach, kale, mango, banana) from our favorite smoothie place … well.  I like greens okay, but not in my dessert!

So if you are interested in healthy eating: kale is in, gluten is out. It has something to do with Celiac Disease, which forces many people to stick to a gluten-free diet.

For those in the food service industry this has presented a real challenge.

And since necessity is the mother of invention … voila! … gluten-free pizza! The crust is made of chicken. It’s also no-carb so it satisfies the Keto-diet users. A downside might be that it’s always thin crust — no stuffing there.

So, at the end of the day, if we are what we eat, I want to be a chicken fried steak. Cooked Texas style, dropped in the frylator and covered with white gravy.

With a kale garnish, of course.