Hey there world, my name is Annette. I never cease to surprise. I've been armed with sharp determination, unflappability, an insatiable desire to create and a drive to always be productive. I've got a few thoughts on the life I've been living for 19 years, so I figured I share those thoughts every once in a while. I hope you enjoy my blog.
We’re a nation of ideas because of free speech. We have the right to disagree, we have the right to agree, we have the right to make up our minds or to change them. We don’t have to be afraid if we come up with something new. New is not dangerous.
I thank God that Americans don’t have reason to fear if they come up with new ideas or have dissenting opinions.
Imagine if Thomas Edison had been afraid to voice his opinion for a light bulb? He challenged the status quo that had been in place for thousands of years. He demoted candles as the supreme light-givers to modern humanity. If his idea for the light bulb had been deemed as “dangerous” by the political machine, we wouldn’t even have an object to symbolize ideas!
The value of an idea lies in the using of it.
-Thomas Edison
We’d have to use candles to symbolize ideas (Or something like that)… And that’s really just not as nifty. So thanks to free speech, we can now use light bulbs to universally communicate new ideas to the world. You can thank America for that. (And Thomas Edison, of course.)
Nearly every man who develops an idea works it up to the point where it looks impossible, and then he gets discouraged. That’s not the place to become discouraged.
I can find some things to say about being single based on just matching up a pair of songs. I attribute this to being Sicilian… Stick with me here. And I promise, this does tie into the socks.
You shouldn’t define yourself by your relationship status. You should define yourself by the status your relationship with Jesus Christ. With Him, you’re never “alone”. If you don’t have a good relationship with Jesus and yet you’re married, you can feel far more alone than if you’re single… Don’t believe me? Just look at all the broken Hollywood marriages. Sometimes the Hollywoodies seem more miserable together rather than alone. It’s a sad thing.
On a cuter note, I found the missing match to a pair of socks I just adore… They have adorable little lamb-y things on them and I was always very sad that I had never found the other sock to match! I would find each separate sock in random places, but never together… Thankfully though, yesterday, I found the other sock and the two were reunited! It made me everso happy… Probably because it reminded me of how, if we wait long enough for just the right person (Or, er, sock in this case), God will unite us with our match… I put out a Tweet, inspired by the reuniting of a pair of socks, saying:
Being single is a lot like being a lone sock… Someday you’ll find your match, they’re just lost somewhere in the dryer for right now.
There you go. Now you see how inspiring socks can be. Just don’t go looking in the dryer for a date though. I have a feeling that won’t really yield good results.
Hey all! Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Here is a little blog post dedicated to all things Irish. I kissed the blarney stone and I’m ready to gab about Ireland!
First off, I was all decked out in my Irish garb today… “Everyone Loves an Irish Girl”, quite fitting, yes? (No pun intended.)
I wanted to make some Cheddar Potato Chowder (Irish style) but ran out of time to prepare dinner in a timely manner, so I will try that tomorrow. If anyone is interested in making a belated Irish soup, here is the recipe! This is from the Idaho Potato Commission.
3 tablespoons margarine or butter
2 medium-size carrots, pealed and diced
2 medium-size ribs celery, thinly sliced
1 small onion, chopped
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon dry mustard
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon ground pepper
2 cups milk
2 cups water
4 medium-size Idaho Potatoes (about 1 3/4 pounds), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 chicken-flavor bouillon cubes or envelopes
1 1/2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese
4 slices bacon, cooked and crumbled (optional)
In 3-quart saucepan over medium heat, melt margarine. Add carrots, celery and onion, cook until tender, about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in flour, dry mustard, paprika and pepper; cook 1 minute.
Gradually add milk, water, potatoes and bouillon. Bring to a boil over high heart, reduce heat to low. Cover and simmer 10 minutes or until potatoes are tender.
Remove saucepan from heat; add cheese and stir just until melted. Top each serving with crumbled bacon and chopped chives, if desired.
And hopefully it’ll turn out deliciously tomorrow! Let me know if you make this too. Post photos, let me know how it tasted, all that good stuff.
St. Patrick’s Day always instills a bit of pride in me because of my Irish last name - Nagle! Most people assume it is German, but no, my friends, it is of Irish descent. My great great great great great errr… Yeah, my great-something-grandfather from about the 1700s was a true Irish rebel! Forgive me, I may be messing up a few details of my family heritage, but here is the main story… My great great (something) grandfather, his name was Richard Nagle and he was from County Cork, Ireland. He was a Catholic who rebelled against the Protestants, and he was considered a governmental terrorist and was smuggled into Canada by the help of Edmund Burke. He went on to move to central Pennsylvania, fought in the Revolutionary war, set up a homestead, escaped attacks by Indians and was considered a local hero in Cambria County. Oh, he is also a relative of Nano Nagle, who set up the very first Catholic school! And there is a tidbit of Irish history for you.
How about some Irish sayings and quotes?! I just love sayings!
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.
A closed mouth–a wise head.
A fool and his money are easily parted.
A hut is a palace to a poor man.
A little of anything isn’t worth a pin; but a wee bit of sense is worth a lot.
Don’t rest your eyes beyond what is your own.
Don’t tell your secret even to a fence.
Never put off tomorrow what you can do today.
No-one is ever poor who has the sight of his eyes and the use of his feet.
Wisdom is what makes a poor man a king, a weak person powerful, a good generation of a bad one, a foolish man reasonable.
The best looking-glass is the eyes of a friend
Heres one more Irish saying! “Poor is the church without music.” The same goes for a blog entry! So here are two Irish songs for your listening pleasure: “Be Thou My Vision” and “Peg O’ My Heart” (A personal favorite of my Grandma Peggy… Who was not Irish, but still, part of her name was in there!)
I think I yammered on enough about all things Irish… That’s all for me for now. But remember, “All happy endings are beginnings as well!”
I seriously think we need a day honoring Sicilians. When is that? Hmm……..
Hey. Private eyes. They’re watching you… And you asked for it. No, this doesn’t have anything to do with conspiracy theories, Big Brother, Joseph Stalin and the Communists or the novel 1984 by the brilliant George Orwell. It has everything to do with a website you’re consciously signed up for and advertised your life on…
Everyone seems to wish to become a larger than life reality TV star on Facebook. No one seems to care that their private lives are on display, like a circus for all to see. Are you trying to create your own gossip website about yourself, people? Seriously. It looks like it by all of the crazy statuses you’re posting about yourself.
“O.M.G. I am sooo mad @ him he is making me soo mad i hate himm”
“i am tired of everyone being jerks! u all kno who u r!” (This oddball may also even post the names of people upsetting them.)
“i love this girl soo much she is my world” Blah blah, include a lot more romantic details and such…
And let’s point the big, fat white elephant out in the room here. All of the stupid pictures of yourself drinking and looking like a fool are not flattering. Who do you think you are? Kim Kardashian? P Diddy? Do you think you are glamorous or cool by doing this? (They’re not people to emulate, by the way.)
We seem to have an attention hog generation, whose addiction is promoting their entire lives to the world. It’s as if they are on their own stage, not even caring who knows every detail about their lives. Generations before us seemed to understand that creating your own rumors was a dumb idea… We humans thrive on gossip and seeing the demise of others when we often feel terrible about our own lives. That’s not an idealistic concept to assume such things but it is the truth.
(Great Grandma Sandra and my Grandpa)
A few weeks ago, my Sicilian Grandpa gave me some advice about being private - for your own good. His mother, Sandra, who emigrated from Sicily to America when she was in her 20s, told him that: “You shouldn’t tell everyone about everything that is happening in your life.” He continued with what else she told him, saying, “They may act like they care when they ask you what you’re doing, but as soon as they’ll listen to you, they’ll turn around and use what you told them against you. You can’t trust everyone.”
And believe me, a full blooded Sicilian would know the meaning of trust… And betrayal. Don’t believe me?
Two words: The Godfather. Sometimes I wonder if Don Corleone was an influence on my Grandpa. Anyway, I digress… Really, people don’t change. Even if my grandma gave that advice to my grandpa 60 years ago (Before Facebook, computers and even LCD alarm clocks), it still stands today. People don’t change much.
It’s not to say you should go live in a cave and not share anything about your life with anyone… I have a Facebook account also, to keep in touch with family and friends easily and make new friends. But you have to be careful about what you share. Some say you shouldn’t have anything to hide about your life, which is true, but your most intimate thoughts should not be broadcasted on the internet for the world to see. (It’s called a journal, people).
I mean even when I was 9 years old, journals were being sold that had LOCKS on them. Now instead of locking away their most sincere ponderings of the heart in a lock and key journal, kids are now broadcoasting every whiff of the mind on the internet!
Nobody thinks that Facebook is almost like Big Brother - or private eyes. When you’re on Facebook, you should act like theres spies on the lose trying to convict you of everything. I mean, I prefer to call them Facebook creepers. They are private eyes, and they’re watching you.. Hmm. They see your every move… Watching your every move….. Hmm, I feel a song coming on!! (Surprising.)
Thank you, Hall and Oates, for practically writing the Facebook theme song in the 80s. You may have trumped Nostradomus on this one!
But, okay, the point being, any time you’re about to publicly insult your ex, or complain about how bad your mom and dad are for not letting you go see some gruesome movie - or you’re just plain ticked and feel like ranting on about anyone you please, or posting those foolish pictures of you being drunk and/or insane looking.. Remember … Private eyes, they’re watchin’ you!
Hey, so lately, I’ve been getting back into crocheting. It’s been one of those on-again off-again things most of my life, like a bad relationship plot line in a soap opera. The reason I love to do it is because I can keep my hands busy and actually create something while watching TV, so I don’t feel like my life is completely wasting away. I’m surprised I don’t have arthritis or carpel tunnel syndrome already, between playing piano, typing and crocheting all the time. Let’s hope they have a cure for arthritis by the time I hit 60, I may turn out to be the worse case out there!
Anyway… My Grandma Peggy (Margaret) learned how to crochet nearly 50 years ago, and my mom learned from her quite a few years back, too. I followed in their footsteps and learned how to crochet around the age of 10. I wanted to try it when I was 5 but mom thought, “Hooks, 5 year old child, no.” (Thanks mom for not letting me lose an eyeball.)
As I looked up the history of crochet, I realized it may be another one of those things that could be in my blood. Crochet is french for Hook… And the French frequented the practice of crocheting in the late 1800s as a way to make money. Oui oui, vous aimez les Français! That could be another reason as to why I have such an affinity to it at such a young age…? Who knows, but I obviously like to hypothesize.
It’s funny, most 19 year olds are not spending their Friday nights making sweaters for their mugs… And even still as I don’t live vicariously, I’ll end up with arthritis and health problems regardless. (Irony.) But hey, I like to keep people surprised and be a true freethinker. It’s not freethinking to go and be your typical young adult who only thinks about MTV and whatever dumb television shows are out now, and ramble on about a subject that sounds relatively intelligent, such as the rights of animals when all you are really doing is rehashing everything PETA has already said, or really over thinking something that is plainly in black and white. Like, “What is truth? Is truth the absence of lies? Or is it mostly truth with some lie?” Blah blah blah… No, that’s not being intelligent or thinking logically, that’s pseudo-intellectualism and it really has nothing to do with being intelligent, people…
Woah, sorry. Bunny trail. So instead of writing mindless blog entries about nothing that matters (Hmm), I crochet. This is what I’ve been working on lately:
It’s a “Mug Cozy”. (I call it mug sweater.) Lately (Or always), it’s been considered quite tacky to wear crocheted sweaters but cups don’t think anything of it, so I figured, why not make a few for them? They don’t complain when you stick boiling hot water in them… So they won’t mind if you stick a disgustingly tacky sweater on them either.
But come on, you know that thing it’s wearing is CUTE!
And quite frankly I’m a little OCD, so the other day I decided to crochet a coaster for my coffee to sit on so it doesn’t hurt the finish on my Viscount piano. I mean, yes, forget the fact I could be a clumsy baffoon and knock the coffee off of the ledge and onto my keys and ruin the electronics in it… I’m more worried about the warmth of the cup on the mahogany finish. Caffeine IS an addiction that alters your mind, obviously.
So that’s what is up in my life lately. I bet you didn’t know someone could write a blog entry this long based on crocheting, could you? Obviously a Sicilian could make a speech out of anything, mia amici… Anything at all. I didn’t make it into the top 5% (70 out of about 15,000) in the speech division at a national arts competition for nothing. I sure can talk. About anything.
