My husband, Joe, and I just drove 26 hours straight (minus bladder and lousy food stops) from RI to FL and guess what? We still like each other! You see, I have my late father’s gene of being the worst front seat passenger in the world. I just get too nervous. I blame working in ICU at Hartford Hospital back in the mid 80’s taking care of MVA patients, scraped off the road and flown by Lifestar to HH. Twenty-something year old kids with traumatic brain injuries, multiple broken bones, etc, in Net Beds took its toll on my passenger psyche. What’s a net bed? A hospital bed with a sturdy rectangular frame above the mattress with a zippered soft but strong screen like a tent that keeps the CONFUSED patient from falling out of bed. I doubt they’re even used anymore. Not easy work. But I digress, why was my father a terrible passenger? I honestly do not know. But I do know, Joe, on occasion, has said to me, “Easy, Bill, relax!” Very funny.
So, of all the years we’ve been vacationing and/or snow-birding in FL (?10), this was my first time evah that I sat my arse in our car to get there. I much prefer to fly, it’s so much quicker and honestly, I love, love, love looking out the window of a plane, trying to figure out where we are. (My blog isn’t call Kate’s FLIGHT of ideaRs for nuttin, honey!)

Anywho, we left RI, at my insistence, at midnight. Not that I wanted to drive in the dark, I wanted to avoid that 4 letter word, TRAFFIC!! Ok, 7 letters. I am so excited to say, and truly can’t believe it, but we drove from RI thru CT, thru NY state, thru Jersey and west of Philly, PA (avoiding the Jersey Tpk) … 5.5 hrs and we hit ZERO traffic!!! Yippie!! That’s not saying there wasn’t any construction!! Of COURSE there was construction !! If CT had a sir name it would be Construction. “Connie” Construction. Oyyyy. !! I’m telling you, it was everywhere along that dreaded I-95. There was more construction in my former state of CT than any other state through which we drove. Here are a few questions: 1) What’s the wattage on the massive spot lights they use to illuminate their work sites? Jupiter called and asked that we put a dimmer switch on them. Cue Springsteen: “Blinded by the light, Wrapped up like a douche, call Ron Rohmer in the night!” (WELI joke and I just cracked myself up !!) 2)Who decides to put out 1-2 miles of orange cones before any signs of work being Dunn? Not kidding ya. Joe said, must be a union rule. 2 hours of cone put-er-outers , 4 hours work, 2 hours of cone picker uppers. Night shift over. Cue Belafonte: “Daylight come and me wanna go home.” One glorious sign that was always such a welcomed relief, you guessed it, “END WORK ZONE!!” Yeah!!! Well, until the next work zone… Cue Joe: CT taxes, hard at work! Thank goodness we no longer contribute!!

To be continued….Next topic 18 wheeler FRUCKS

xo,

Kate 9/26/24

🎼”Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64?” Wasn’t I just 34 like last week? How many times in your last few gatherings of family or friends, or say, in a restaurant, did you look around and think, holy crapola, am I the oldest person here?!! It’s really mind blowing. I’m that old lady, old mother, old aunt, WTH?!! Here’s the thing, when my mother was what my age is now, 63.75, I thought she was kind of, shhhh, “old”. Crazy, right?? I’m way cooler than she was, aren’t I?!! Ok, don’t answer that.
Every now and then I think about former teachers and try to figure out how old they were when I was in their class. I can guarantee they were much younger than I thought they were, which means, right now I’m much older than they were, which means, I’m old!! Shite!!!

Okay ladies, those of you who still have loads of estrogen carelessly floating around in your lovely toned bodies, enjoy it! Live with those darn monthly cramps, embrace your womanhood!! Why? And this is a warning…bcuz when that “friend” disappears, other “charms” insidiously appear!! And my dear old, now Heavenly, mother never warned me about EITHER!! Hell, if it wasn’t for that 5th grade gym class movie, “Growing up and Liking it” I’d know nuttin, honey! Here was my middle school life: 7 people, a 5 room house, 4 brothers, 0 sisters, 1 bathroom that thankfully had a hook and eye lock on it (cue brothers: smack, pound, band, rattle, rattle, get out, Kate!!!) and a mother who basically told me zippo, naddah, noTHING. She handed me a box of 40 Tampax tampons in the 5th grade and said, and I quote, “You might need these someday.” Get the picture? Thank God Lynne Carter lived up the street and didn’t mind going to the store to buy me monthly supplies! Not kidding… But I digress, back to estrogen or lack there of…. Think of estrogen as the mozz cheese on a pizza. Ever get a pizza from a new pizza joint that just doesn’t have enough mozz on it? Such a bummer. Sparse mozz, looks all dried up, unappealing, just down right sad. (You need a few beers just to choke it down.) Contrarily, ever order a pizza w/extra cheese? Moist, juicy, yummy! (One beer is plenty!) Which would you prefer? Lots of Mozz, supple, delicious, thank you!! (Ok, hope I didn’t ruin your love for mozz cheese “abeets”!)

Here’s a list, or at least my list, of those insidious “charms” created by old age and thus, Low E => 1) Beyond drier than dry skin, that has “barnacles” growing on it!! No lie, that’s what my dermatologist called the spots growing on my skin, barnacles!! (Medical term =>SK seborrheic keratosis, aka feckin Irish skin!) Boy, that’s awesome, forget the $75 cream, just get out Dad’s paint scraper! I can still see him scraping barnacles off his very old fishing boat that he named The ☘️ Leprechaun. (I think that boat with its barnacles disintegrated in the woods near our house. No lie.) 2ndly) Brittle nails. Anybody else google thin lines through fingernails?? I have. I guess I’m ok, not gonna kill me. But if they’d stop cracking, that’s be nice. 3rdly) Thinning hair,,, although I pretty sure Joe unfortunately wins that race. We might, however, have a tie for the race of hair growing in places that’s JUST NOT RIGHT! If you knew how many times I’ve looked in the mirror lately, only to have my father looking back at me, you’d be rich! Cue: my own personal nose hair clipper…5th) and lastly, for now anyway, my widening waistline!! Now in Low E’s defense, I’ve never had a waistline, seriously, straight up and down, no hourglass shape here! Now that shape is a sphere, globe, beachball, round, round, round…you get it!! I’ve finally reached that age where I’m finally thanking God for my two new best friends, Polly and Ester!

64?!! Bring it on, you don’t scare me!! (Ok, only if I stop looking in mirrors!)

8/17/23

My MIL, aka, red haired ☘️ Reggae Mama, would’ve been 100 TODAY!! Hope she’s singing, smiling and celebrating in Heaven!

XO, Katie McCrusty ☘️

Fireworks! boom, boom, whatever…

Is it me or do you not find fireworks boring, too? They’re the same thing year after year. Loud noises, crackles, bright lights, red, green, blue, silver, gunpowder smoke, ash. The one and only time I was impressed was prob 20++years ago us Scotts went on my BIL’s boat to watch fireworks put on by one of the CT Indian ca$inos, prob Foxwoods, on the Thames River in New London, CT. Besides poor Molly feeding the fish her supper, it was fun. The one particular firework that yes, even I remember, was one that spelled out USA in red, white and blue with stars on either end and a circle of around all of it. Never before and not since then I have seen words spelled out in a fireworks display. #Impressive. Those Indians were raking in the do, re, mi, then. (I remember my dad saying, “they’re making so much money, they can’t even count all of it! Tax free, too!)

Us Scotts have been blessed to spend every summah since ‘96 in a little beach hamlet called Matunuck, RI. Matunuck has been (tongue-in-cheek) fondly referred to as a “small drinking community with a big beach problem.” In Matunuck, it’s as if it’s 1965 and time has stood still. Nothing fancy schmancy about it. No upper crust snotty feeling what so ever. The only thing changing lately are the prices of an ice cream cone at the Vanilla Bean and pies at Carpenters. I’m boycotting both from here on in. But I digress, back to fireworks, yes, fireworks. Illegal fireworks go off sporadically the ENTIRE summah!! I kid you not. I am so used to hearing the errant boomchickaboomboom, just kidding, more like, M80!!! M80!!! at any time of the day or night, the noise doesn’t phase me in the least anymore.
Today is Monday the 3rd, tomorrow, the actual holiday, we will climb up to the 3rd floor deck of our very fun neighbors, Matt and Mary Leyden. Their deck provides a 360 degree view. We’ve counted upwards to 17+ diff areas w/in view of people shooting off (mostly) illegal fireworks!! We get to watch everyone’s money literally going up in smoke! We critique our close neighbors’ numerous displays. One year the funniest line yelled after a semi-lame finale, from our neighbor’s daughter was, “IS THAT ALL YA GOT?!!” Omg, so funny!! Another person will ask, “Whaddah ya think that guy spent on fireworks?!!” And, yes, we pray that the wind is blowing away from us… thanking God when it is.
Gathering on their rooftop has become a tradition. Is not the 4th of July unless we’re up there all together watching fireworks. Maybe they’re not so boring after all.

Happy 4th! 🇺🇸

XO, Kate 7/3/23

🎼 “Will ya still need me, will ya feed me, when I’m *54*?”
Baby/youngest/4th brother, Neil, aka, “Neil Dog Potato Salad”, turns 54 today!! It’s hard to believe, that “little” 5# 2oz, 6 weeks premature, now 6’4” Neil is freakingfanelli 54 years old!! Wait, wait, wait just a minute, if he’s turning 54, that means for my Oct bday, I’ll be turning 64! Omg!! (I know, all you readers who are older than moi, I’m just a kid, right? Well, when YOU turned 64, did you not think, how the hell did I get here so fast? Wasn’t I just 35 like two weeks ago?… Better to validate than pontifiKate!) But I digress, little Neil is truly a great man, husband, father of 3 great kids, brother, uncle, and yes, a chemist!! (Thank you, Mr. Powell!) He’s a smart, funny, kind, loving, patient, helpful, humble, and engaging young, scratch that, middle aged man! I wish him nothing but the happiest of birthdays surrounded by his family! May he stay happy and well for many, many more birthdays!! He is loved.
XO, Older sibling and only sister, Kate

6/20/23

ps, some, (not all) born on the 20th of the month are awesome! 😉

pps, Corny? Who’s that?!!

A Few More Flights of IdeaRs….

Have you seen the younger generation walking around the grocery store with their white ear buds hanging out? Of course you have. Here’s my question, if they’re listening to music, why are they NOT singing along? Dancing, moving, smiling? I cannot listen to music without reacting to it somehow. Ok, ok, maybe they’re listening to something else. A podcast, book on tape, or maybe, just maybe, they wear those earbuds so NO ONE will attempt a conversation with them.
Rude.
I went into the Post Orifice recently in Estero to have our mail temporarily forwarded. I waited in line ~10min to find out it’s all “done online now.”(Silly ol’ antiquated me.) Anywho, there’s was a younger male employee working the counter. He had ONE earbud in his right ear. WTH? This is okay at work? I watched and listened to him closely. (No privacy in this particular Post Orifice). He seemed to know what he was doing despite listening to his ear bud, answering questions and checking people out simultaneously. Or maybe he can’t stand the guy working to his right and this is his way of tuning him out. Also rude. My guess is that there will be an entire generation of people going deaf sooner than us baby’s boomers have. This kid will be saying, “Yeah, my right ear’s no good. Talk into my left.” Btw, how do these ear bud things not fall out of their ears? Oh, they do, do they? Genius marketing ploy. Let’s see how dumb these people are now? We’ll get rid of those tangled wires. Wireless is best, right? Just wait till they fall out of their ears and have to buy new ones! Hahahahahaaaa!!!! Like I said, Genius!

Next Flight of IdeaRs:

Helloooo, most airlines! Quick question:

Why can’t I buy an $89 airline ticket for a real seat for each of my cats rather than spending $125+/cat to get crammed in their carrier under the seat in front of me? (Yes, Avelo Airlines out of Tweed in CT has $89 tickets for direct flights from Fort Myers to N’Haven). I’ll make sure their carriers are buckled tightly! I promise. Avelo is not the only carrier where my seat was cheaper than each of my cats under the seat spot. (Foot/legroom? What’s that? Full disclose: I have now convinced Joe that he must, must, must pay for more legroom!! )
As for traveling with my cats, not fun. (Just ask brother Billy) For starters, my female, calico, feisty Fiona is pissed off the entire time! Meowing and clawing at inside of carrier repeatedly. The one time I gave her a “happy pill”, she crapped in her carrier less than 10 min after takeoff. That was not funny!! The whispered conversation between Joe and myself was. My nurse’s nose can smell just about anything from a mile away. Shite? Oh yeah! That’s easy. Back in the ancient days of my nursing career, I could tell who shite the bed when patient rooms had 4, yes 4 patients, in them. Nurse’s noses know! Anywho, I leaned over to Joe which was not hard to do because we’re practically sitting on each other. Think, sardines! (Debbie Andrews!) I whisper to him, “I smell shite.” His answer, “Really? I don’t.” Big surprise, he never can smell what I smell. Never. I know, he’s a guy and not a nurse, but it still irritates me. Me: “You think I’m lying? I smell it, I swear.” Joe: “I believe you, I just don’t smell it.” Joe: “Maybe the guy in front of you shite his pants while farting. He probably Sharted!! It is after all, a flight to FLORIDA!” He can irritate me but yes, always makes me laugh, too. Think I’ll keep him.
Me: After scoping out this man in front of me as much as I could see, I say, “Nah, he’s too coiffed. Hair is perfect, nice pressed shirt. It’s not him.”
I attempt to look into Fiona’s carrier but it ain’t easy because there is absolutely no extra room. I break my neck trying to reach down blindly bec there is literally no extra room. Maybe I’m just too fat, I get it. Thank God for long arms. So, I reach down and unzip a smidgeon and yup, there it is. OMG, I don’t feckin believe this. She has shite IN her carrier, <10 min into our 2.45 hr flight. We had’t even reached 10,000 ft yet. So no moving around. Eventually, I break my neck again and drag her carrier out from her $125 cramped, cozy spot underneath the chair and climb over Joe and some poor soul on the aisle. (Yes, I had the window seat bec I’m glued to aka LOVE looking out the window!!) I smile, apologize and head to the bathroom built for I don’t know whom, but I think the bathrooms on Tiny Houses are bigger… anyway, luckily I had lots of “Covid” wipes with me and plastic garbage bags… spent at least 10 min in the bathroom cleaning her up and throwing out the fuzzy cushion from her carrier. Folded it on itself and crammed it down the “push here” 5 x5” square for garbage. When I finallllly exited the WC, toilette, salle de bains, the flight attendant gave me such a rotten look… My reply with sweat on my brow and a smile on my face, “Shit happens!”
Pray for no “flying shite” this Friday. Not from Fiona, her brother, me or Joe!
Cue: the KMart commercial that never made it to TV: “I just shipped my bed!” Google it. Hilarious!

Happy Flag Day 2023!
Forever in peace may you wave! 🇺🇸

XO, Kate 6/14/23

Random thoughts for 1000, Ken or Mayim:

1. Kids’ birthday cakes these days are so much fancier than was even my/our Wedding cake. Which, btw, was very nice. I originally ordered white cake cuz it was cheaper. I think $0.75/slice. I remember going back to my mother and asking her very nicely, as in, “pretty please?” if we could afford chocolate cake at $1.25/slice? She had to think about it a bit but then let me order the chocolate! Yeah!!
   Anywho, birthday cakes at my house as a kid were from a box in a 9×11” pan, served in the pan where only the top was frosted. Mom made sure everyone always had a cake. We were more than happy and certainly didn’t care, (or know!!) that fancy cakes from bakeries even existed!! We were happy with the cake Mom threw together for us. Not so happy was the recipient when they noticed that someone else had already taste tested the frosting, leaving their fingerprints behind! Calling, Dr. Henry Lee!!
   As I got older, I didn’t want a cake for my Oct. birthday. You guessed it, I asked for a birthday pumpkin pie! Mom made the pie with the big can of pumpkin where you just add condensed milk. Perfect! Brothers didn’t care, they’d eat anything and everything ! If she was too busy, she’d buy me the Mrs. Smith’s frozen pumpkin pie. Not as good, but the thought was there. Eventually, and I’m not kidding, she’d just baked a glass bowl of the pumpkin pie and condensed milk mixture. No crust! It was not for low carb, it was before Pillsbury had roll out crusts!! Mom hated making pie crusts!! Anywho, we’d scoop it out into a dish and smother it with Cool-Whip. Real whipped cream? What’s that?

My dear friend, Beth Mantikas, has baked me a pumpkin pie from SCRATCH, for about the last 30++ years. Hers is a deep dark rich pumpkin pie that I absolutely love and she doesn’t! That’s a great friend! And thank you, Beth, yet again. I still owe you a few pie dishes! She’s even carried the dry ingredients already mixed on the plane and baked me my pie while we’re both snow birding in Florida. She delivered it to me complete with homemade whipped cream! Happy Birthday to (spoiled!) me!!

2nd random thought:

What’s with the non centered NIKE logo on the back of (professional) golfers’ shirts? First time I saw it all I could think of was the commercial for children’s clothing from the 70-80’s? Gar-animals, I think that’s what they were called. Where the kid matched his clothing by the animal on his pants and shirt, but the shirt was on backwards so the animal was, where the NIKE logo is on said above shirts!!

Also, I say, for Heavens sake, let the men pro golfers wear shorts! The women on the LPGA certainly get away with wearing pretty skimpy clothing. How about we let the men show some leg, too? Besides, they must sweat to death walking 18 holes in long pants!

3rd) I recently visited my daughter Molly up in Duxbury, MA. For you non New Englanders, “Boston.” Think Plymouth Rock and the Pilgrims. She lives about 15min north from the famous 1620 rock. Anywho, Molly and her very talented husband, Joey, raise chickens. (my husband is Joe, her’s is Joey, for clarification purposes.) Newsflash, they are not the cleanest birds in the world as they take dirt baths. Ugh. They do lay their compliment of eggs and they are a treat to eat, especially if you like eggs. Molly made me a special breakfast out of one of her many test kitchen cookbooks. Matzah Brie I think is what it was called.. it’s basically scrambled eggs with presoaked Matzah crackers. Molly added sausage (there’s goes the I dont think it’s Kosher now part!!) and other spices… She was stirring away while I pet her dogs and drank coffee… (oh, how the tide has gloriously turned!). She served us both a yuge plate of whatever she called it…I asked, how many eggs did you use? 4 total! Holy mackerolly!! I could not believe how far she stretched 4 eggs. My immediate thought was, how the hell did my mother not know about Matzah Brie???!! Oh yeah, we’re not Jewish!! But boy are they smart! Simply adding a few “crackers” to the eggs stretched them to feed an army! My mother did feed an army. An army of boys, me and my Dad. Not sure how much she ate, cuz she always sat down last to the table and we’d be half Dunn by then. If she’d only known about Matzah Brie!!!

more later…

8:50a tee time tomorrow (last one before heading north, finalllllly!)

11:20p now

6/11/23

xo, Kate

December 27, 2022, my parents’ first anniversary together “upstairs”. Not the second floor, we didn’t have one. We lived in a “sprawling”1250 sq ft ranch. Not the crawl space either, but you get it, Heaven. (Pretty sure it’s safe to assume they’re both there!) It would’ve been 68 years for them. They made it till #63 together on earth. Dad left us almost 5 years ago and Mom left us was 9 months ago on this past Christmas Day. Hard to even fathom either of those time frames. Gone by in a blink. I was blessed to be with both of them as they left this mortal world. Dad was in hospice at Middlesex Hospital and Mom was right where she wanted to be, in her own house, right in the front living room. Before she passed, I cracked a window so her spirit/soul could fly out and upwards. My younger brother Jerry was there with me. I had called him about 0730 saying I think it’s imminent. I was right. Although I almost missed it because I was in my pjs when he got there and had been at her side all night. I wasn’t planning on leaving her side NOW! Well not until Jerry gave me that “you look like hell” look, and said, “Ahh, you’re jumping in the shower, right?” I wasn’t planning on it. “I think you better, people will be coming over.” Okay, arghhh… It was the fastest shower evah, thank goodness, because I was barely dressed when Jerry yelled, “Come here, QUICK!!!”…Omg, within 5 seconds, She was gone. Gone. Mom’s gone. Tears, hugs, more tears, more hugs. I love my brother Jerry. He’s the closest human to me that fills my “4 brothers but no sister” void.

My parents met on a blind date on March 13, 1954. They were fixed up by one of Dad’s friends. They were married only 9 months later during Dad’s Christmas vacation from teaching. Guess they didn’t want to wait until the following summer?!! Anywho, I’m pretty sure if my memory serves me right, they went to Niagara Falls on their Honeymoon. Canada in December? Talk about freezing to death, or not, that is, not if they never left their room! But I digress. Sorry, but a good segue to…

Mom had several miscarriages before my eldest brother Billy was born. Billy was named after Dad, William, but was given a different middle name, that of Gerard. Wondering why he’s not a Junior? First, yes, Irish Catholics pray for the intercession of Saints. St. Gerard is the Patron Saint of pregnant mothers. Mom must have made a deal with St.Gerard. Save this pregnancy and if it’s a boy, he gets your name! Fun Fact: Billy’s birthday is 3 years to the day of their blind date! March 13, 1957. Second Fun Fact: second eldest brother Timmy was born 10 months later!! Mom was PG at her 6 week postpartum checkup!! Billy and Timmy’s baby photos are in Webster’s Dictionary under the phrase: Irish Twins! To further the ☘️ clan, I was born the following year! St. Gerard gets an A+++. After 3 kids in 3 years, she must have realized St. Gerard did his job almost too well. There was a nice little break before Jerry, he’s 4yrs younger than me and “Neil Dog Potato Salad” is almost 10 yrs younger. (I have a friend in FL who’s one of 16 children. 8 boys, 8 girls. I canNOT even begin to imagine a) being pregnant 15 times (one set of twins) nor raise that many kids. Mind-boggling.

Mom always reminded me, begrudgingly, that her labor with me stopped half way through. Hours passed without any contractions. Anyone who knows me well knows the reason why!! Why of course, I took a nap during labor and haven’t stopped!! I’m a yuge nap taker. Sometimes a 20 minute power nap, other times a 1-2 hour I don’t know what day it is when I wake up nap!!

I have dreamt about both of my parents since they’ve passed. Interesting that they’re never old and falling apart. They are young and in their prime. Happy, enjoying life, raising a bunch of kids on a dime. Sacrificing their lives for us kids. Everything they did, they did for us. I sure hope they know how much we loved them because we sure know they loved us. I pray that my dreams are a reflection of a pain free life they have in Heaven. And I hope they celebrated #68 today “upstairs” surrounded by their family and friends. ❤️❤️

XO, Kate

12/27/22

ps, I’ve often wondered if Mom’s miscarriages were a sister(s) that someday I’ll meet in Heaven.

#herewegoagain

7/28/21