The Cost of Eggs–and Not Voting

Voting takes time. You have to research a little to vote. Colorado has made it easier than ever to vote. Unlike some states, we have mail-in ballots, which have proven to be quite legit.

I was recently on a neighborhood blog site (you might know the one). People were complaining about the cost of eggs, especially in Colorado Compared to other states.

Seems like in 2020, we Coloradans passed a bill stating that by 2023 we would have 100% cage-free eggs.

Well, it’s now 2023, and coincidentally with outbreaks of bird flu, it’s expensive to make an omelette or cake these days.

We all want the chickens to be healthy and happy, don’t we? I think I voted yes on that very bill (being an animal rights enthusiast–I fall short of being an activist), but maybe there were cost-effective ways of giving chickens a free range life. Maybe if we wanted happy chickens, we should have thrown in some government funding.

This got me thinking; how many voters did or did not vote for this bill? I’m guessing many people complaining about the price of eggs, didn’t vote, didn’t read anything about the bill, or didn’t care until the price of eggs hit them in their pocketbooks.

Colorado makes it easy to be informed as voters. We get numerous booklets describing the bills and who is running for what office. They give us pros and cons of each.

None of us knows the unintended consequences of how a certain bill will play out, but we can at least inform ourselves–and vote.

Time Wasted or Time Spent?

I think a lot about wasting time, mostly because I think I waste a lot of my own time. My time-wasters are television (especially so-called reality shows, and blood-pressure destroying news shows). I’ve successfully cut down on both, but I realize I’ve still got an addictive personality for both types of shows and Internet feeds. I find if I just don’t start watching a certain show (one comes to mind: Real Housewives of anywhere new), the I don’t get hooked and it doesn’t bother me not to watch.

It’s a procrastination technique (or flaw) for me.

I remember I did it during the 9/11 attacks. I glued myself to the television 18 hours a day, watching the same video over and over again until those same images of planes crashing into and destroying two landmark buildings and killing thousands, are burned into my head. I wasted probably two months on those. Well, not wasted–I think I needed to understand what was happening and why. But, in the end, did I?

The most recent example is the Pandemic (COVID 2020 and 2021). I had two years in which I could have written a book or two and gotten them published, learned a foreign language, volunteered hours and hours of time, learned to bake break or whatever ….

I remember reading once that somebody was saying they couldn’t go back to school for that long-desired degree, because they’d be fifty by the time they were done. But they’d be fifty anyway. Just fifty with that long-desired degree.

The thing is, looking back, we didn’t know we had two years. We thought it would be over in weeks. None of us knew really. Except maybe Dr. Fauci. He warned us, didn’t he?

So, should I retrain myself to think that “this time of having extra time could go on forever?”

I know what I need to do: treat time as if it’s my most precious commodity. Because it is.

Now, excuse me, but I need to watch Little People, Big World.

Of Aunts and Dialysis

Dialysis is one of those things that all of us hope we never have to endure. Recently, a friend told me that she almost had to go on dialysis due to kidney failure after a rough bout with COVID.

Kidney failure can happen for any number of reasons, but almost always because the body needs to reserve its energy to heal other parts of the body; the heart, the lungs, the nervous system.

I wrote the attached article years ago after helping my aunt through dialysis (mostly by giving her rides & emotional support). I did this for almost ten years until she passed away.

During that time, I learned a lot about the hows and whys of dialysis. I learned about the people (they’re just like me and you), and about how dialysis is “big business.” I won’t touch on the “big business” issue–well maybe just a little: some people are forced onto dialysis when they are only in border-line kidney failure. This is more likely to happen if they have good insurance (if you know what I mean). Once they’re on though, they most likely won’t come off.

Here’s my tribute to my aunts.

A Cinderella Story

I grew up in a very modest ranching family in Western Colorado. I mean, less than 20 head of cattle, a couple of sheep, that kind of ranching, just like a lot of the ranches in Colorado and most western states.

This Cinderella story isn’t about me, but about my daughter, who came along with me for my long strange ride.

Long story somewhat short, she worked very hard to get through the University of Colorado, then start a career in journalism. She started working for a company that published quilting and crafting magazines. She did that for many years, working her way up the corporate ladders that deal with journalism and advertising.

Naturally, that led her to — becoming the first woman general manager of a the first ever PBR bull-riding team series. What?

I don’t entirely understand it myself–had to google it, but I know that through connections and networking, she wanted the opportunity and “took it by the horns,” so to speak.

The story took a slight dark turn when her team (one of 8), came in consistently last during the PBR team series.

Then, they went to Vegas. They won the championship.

The Nashville Stampede became the first ever champions of the PBR Team Series in Las Vegas. They won a giant belt buckle, individual buckles, hopes and dreams fulfilled, oh, and some money.

They called it a true Cinderella story.

That’s my daughter, Tina Battock (to the left under the belt buckle)

Old News

Today is Election day (Midterms 2022), and it’s crazy out there.

I have been a news “addict” since i was a teenager, caused by two things: I was called a dumb blonde because of my quietness and my also being blonde; I loved reading (being an introvert).

So, I read everything I could in the newspaper from the front page to the middle pages to the financial pages, and saved the comics for last.

Recently I realized that watching news makes my heart beat faster, gives me anxiety and sometimes a migraine. I’ve had to curtail my reading of news online (which news is real and which is garbage?)

I worked hard to convince myself that I was smart, and I now believe it. I believe that I can discern fact from fiction in most cases. I can tell if I’m being gaslighted (is it “lit” or “lighted?”) and I can do my own research and decide what’s true and what’s not. I can certainly tell that most of the conspiracy theories are garbage at best and at worst hurt people and sometimes get them killed.

So, I’m ordinarily a positive person (some have called me a Pollyanna–including my own mother and my aunt).

This is about as negative as I get.

But, I voted. That’s all I can do.

Get out and vote. Do your research first. Sign your ballot.

Be safe out there


The world has changed so dramatically since I was young, that I hardly recognize it. Better in many ways, worse in others, and much scarier.

One thing I never imagined was having the money or motivation to go on a cruise. Now, thanks to improved travel (everyone travels now) and better and more accessibility to vacations, my husband and I have been on several.

The fact that I and my family are fortunate and lucky (and also hard-working), isn’t wasted on me. I’m grateful for every day, for every event, crisis and happy and otherwise, that has brought me (us) to this point.

It is with humility and gratitude that I post these cruise pictures, remembering each day to give to others, to pass on wisdom if I should ever have any, and to hug my loved ones.

The Truth is Out There

I loved the old television show X Files. It was a perfect combination of fiction and non-fiction (mostly Sci Fi).

All the talk of fake news and real news and really “out there” conspiracy theories is exhausting to me.

I wonder how people can go so far down rabbit-holes of conspiracy that they believe in vampires and zombies.

Conspiracy theories are not new; there have been theories about Elvis not really being dead, and JFK having been killed by a big government plot. These conspiracy theories stayed relatively small in audience because we didn’t yet have—the Internet.

The Internet gives fuel to conspiracy theories, and people who are prone to this kind of information, or are drawn to it, search for validating sites and information. They form clubs and groups with like-minded individuals. Some need a war or cause to fight for, some need excitement, and some are truly concerned about the greater good.

It’s frightening to me that we can’t just talk people down from their ledges of disinformation before they hurt themselves or others.

Or, am I wrong? Maybe there are vampires and zombies? Maybe Elvis is still alive.

It makes me think though as I write fiction; will someday people not be able to discern between fiction and non-fiction (or non-faction, as I like to call it)?

I think I’ll binge some old episodes of X-Files.

Is “Privilege Guilt” a Thing?

My husband and I just got back from a two-week Mediterranean cruise–you know, one of those Viking cruises that you see advertised.

It was heaven; being catered to, eating marvelous food and worrying only about adding a few pounds to an already cushy frame, going on guided drives and tours, having sheets changed not only once a day, but twice?

As we brought back our pictures to share with others, I do feel twinges of guilt.

I know how privileged I am. Was I always? No. My kids and I took mostly camping or nearby mountain vacations. We live in Colorado, and yet, almost everyone I know who lives in Colorado couldn’t afford to give their children ski lessons or take them on exotic vacations.

So, while never truly poor (as I know my mother was), I catch memories of not being able to afford this-or-that, and not being able to give my children this-or-that.

However, I and my husband and my children are all “self made” and know how to work and set goals and be resilient. We all put ourselves through college (albeit not Harvard or Yale), paid whatever student loans we had, worked very very hard and set goals.

There was a comedian who had a bit about sending rich kids to “poor camp,” to teach them about real life.

I do feel guilty about having so much while others have so little.

But enough of rationalizing my feelings of guilt.

I am grateful. I realize there are those who have much more than I.

There are those who have much less.

I will continue to show our “vacation photo books” and as my husband says, “don’t be ashamed of wealth, but share it, and show others how to do it.”


I grew up in Grand Junction, Colorado, very near the Utah border, where the sun shines hot and climate is “high desert.” Good, it seems for growing fruit.

These days, wineries have popped up in the area, adding wine tourism as a major revenue source and adding job opportunities to this picturesque area.

When much younger, my brother and cousins and I would pick peaches for extra money in the fall once the peaches and apples had ripened. We were not very good at it and may have eaten more than we picked. We would go home sticky and itching from “peach fuzz,” but happy with our extra money.

We picked alongside migrant workers, who were working for a living and not for pocket money. The workers, men and women alike, would bring their lunches in tin bucket and their children in tow. I thought they were a happy group, although looking back, their lives couldn’t have been easy. They played their snappy Mexican music in the peach groves.

I found this peach cake recipe compliments of Ina Garten. Maybe pair it with a nice peach wine?:

1/4 pound (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/2 cups sugar, divided

2 extra-large eggs, at room temperature

1 cup sour cream, at room temperature

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3 large, ripe peaches, peeled, pitted, and sliced

1/2 cup chopped pecans

  1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9-inch square baking pan.
  2. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and 1 cup of the sugar for 3 to 5 minutes on medium-high speed, until light and fluffy. With the mixer on low, add the eggs, one at a time, then the sour cream and vanilla, and mix until the batter is smooth. In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. With the mixer on low, slowly add the dry ingredients to the batter and mix just until combined. In a small bowl, combine the remaining 1/2 cup sugar and the cinnamon.
  3. Spread half of the batter evenly in the pan. Top with half of the peaches, then sprinkle with two-thirds of the sugar mixture. Spread the remaining batter on top, arrange the remaining peaches on top, and sprinkle with the remaining sugar mixture and the pecans.
  4. Bake the cake for 45 to 55 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Serve warm or at room temperature.

2010, Barefoot Contessa How Easy Is That?, All Rights Reserved


I have become more and more interested in politics & how it works, and I’m disappointed about how it works.

Today, August 2, 2022, primaries are being conducted in several “swing” states. Some candidates have declared that should they “lose,” they will not accept their loss. When did not accepting your loss graciously become acceptable.

Well, I know when and by whom it was started, but I believe it is a bad bad street to go down.

I’m hoping we can get back to whatever “normal” is and start behaving normally and graciously and realize that not everybody is trying to cheat, steal and pillage.

At least, I have hope.

But then, my mother always called me a Pollyanna.

« Older posts