This Ain't New York

You gotta respect the roll.

2012-01-26T08:54:00.001-06:00

So far, my week has included several trips to the grocery store, one or two trips to Target, a trip or two or three (ahem) to Starbucks, and a trip to the dentist.

Yeah, my week is a trip.

(Sorry.)

I had a regular dental check-up before Christmas. The dentist and I mulled over my old fillings. They are slowly wearing out since they were all put in around the turn of the last century. Okay, not really, but they were all done before Al Gore invented the Internet. And yes, for you youngins out there, we did have modern dental care before Facebook or Google.

I know you are shocked and amazed.

We also managed to brush our teeth using toothbrushes that didn't spin. It was EXHAUSTING.

Legend has it, that back in the day, dentists gave you a sucker after an appointment. I never experienced this because my family dentist was cheap and didn't even give you a free toothbrush that didn't spin.

However, my many trips to the bank on Saturday mornings with mama made up for it because the teller always gave me a sucker. So, even though I had to change out of my Scooby Doo pajamas to get ready for our bank errand, I was happy. (Yes, we actually went to the bank to do our banking as opposed to doing everything online. Free candy! See what you're missing?)

Yesterday I took Daughter to school and headed to my dentist appointment to have two of my fillings replaced. The truth is, I dreaded it, but having them replaced now is better than biting into a walnut from a spoonful of Chunky Monkey and completely ruining a Ben and Jerry's moment.

I am proactive about my Ben and Jerry's moments.

When I arrived at the dentist office, I went to the ladies' room. I also needed to brush my teeth since I'd been sipping coffee in the car. After I used the facilities, I stood in the mirror, applied some lipstick and decided I should turn around and check if my sweater was pulled down in the back.

My sweater looked fine, but there was another problem.

There in the mirror was a long piece of toilet paper stuck into the waistband of my jeans. I looked like I had a tail made of Charmin Ultra Soft.

I quickly averted disaster and removed it. Then I thanked the good Lord above that I had looked in the mirror. I could just imagine myself walking down the hall to the dentist chair with a tail of toilet paper gloriously trailing behind.

As soon as I finished brushing my teeth and thanking God for saving me from embarrassment, I headed to the waiting room. Before I could even get settled, they called me back.

I'll spare you the dental details. You will be happy to know my fillings were replaced without incident. Other than the fact that I was numb for half the day and probably drooling without knowing it, I am one step closer to being able to eat Chunky Monkey worry free.

And, let's face it, drooling is still better than a Charmin tail.

Scully, is it you? Yuuup

2012-01-19T11:18:00.002-06:00

I go through television show phases.

Back in the early 90's, I was in my X Files phase. Each week I'd get a bit obsessed about sitting down to watch on Sunday nights, hoping, just hoping The Smoking Man would make an appearance. Then, as an added bonus, it would be a show that threaded an extra mysterious twist into the tapestry of the conspiracy theory, and I felt like I'd just ordered fries at Sonic and got a free tator tot.

Don't tell me your happiness isn't measured in tator tots.

Hubs rarely watched it with me. The one episode he did watch all the way through was one he renamed, "The Dirt Monster" which, oddly sums up the whole plot, but certainly degrades the talent and the incredible hair Scully had throughout the episode.

Most Sundays, he walked through the living room and said,"Is this a conspiracy one?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's it. I'm lost. I can't watch."

"Oh, but the truth (and it's out there) is that the ones you don't think are conspiracy ones you later find ARE conspiracy ones when you put it all together and then that 's what makes it SOOOOOO GOOOOOD!"

"Yeah, but who's that guy?"

"I don't know. We may find out later or maybe six episodes from now."

"I'm going to bed."

These were our Sunday night conversations until X Files went off the air. Then Alias came along and Sydney Bristow filled my Mulder/Scully void. It was a huge void, mind you, and I always found it ironic that a show called Alias replaced my show with aliens. Get it? Similar words? No?? Okay, I'm a word geek.

But, seriously, Sydney was tough and cool, even with the hot pink wigs.

Then Alias just go unbelievable (as opposed to real life Dirt Monsters) and I just couldn't watch any more.

Since then, my television phases have involved 24, and a brief interlude of sitcom re-runs. But, now I have finally found a new obsession.
Storage Wars.

It pales in comparison to CIA and FBI agents, but I am completely obsessed with the fact that there are people that forget they have valuable antiques stored away in a dusty container in the middle of California.

My favorite on the show is Barry Weiss, the collector who just plops down thousands just to sort through Hefty bags of old clothes with his skeleton gloves (love those) in order to find one odd piece of art. He is hysterical.

I've heard that burglaries of storage units have increased since the show aired because people are under the impression that there are thousands of dollars in antiques locked behind those rolling doors. Not the actual things in storage that I would have like old blue and mauve draperies or a juicer from 1994.

I'm still holding out hope that one day a new secret agent show will emerge from the networks. Until then, I'll watch Storage Wars, since it is on 24 hours a day.

Maybe one day Brandi and Jerrod will buy a locker and find a message from the Smoking Man explaining the entire conspiracy theory.

Now, THAT would be valuable.

Just ask my husband.

Who is the crazy lady in the card store?

2012-01-11T16:11:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I drove Daughter to school as usual, then drove the opposite direction to a doctor's appointment. Well, to tell the truth, I was driving to what I thought was a lab appointment but turned out to be a doctor's appointment/lab appointment.

When the lady called me back and asked me to step on the scale I told her I was just getting labs and she said,"Well, I have to do all of this anyway."

So, I thought, "Well, okay, but I would have worn lighter clothes."

I thought it was all a misunderstanding and I felt badly for taking up the doctor's time since I wasn't actually ill, but he assured me that it was fine and that my paperwork read "follow-up." He sees the patients before their labs, (I suppose to make sure you are getting what you need) most of the time. So, I was the only one who misunderstood and I was supposed to see the doctor and get labs all at the same visit. It was like opening the cereal box and getting a prize, except the prize was in a lab coat holding a needle.

Okay, that's not really a prize.

When I left the doctor's office I headed straight to Starbucks which is the opposite direction of my house, but was the closest one the way the crow flies. I had fasted for this appointment and completely earned my grande latte'. That's when I remembered the really cool Hallmark close by.

If it sounds like this was all completely random it is because it was.

I brought my yummy latte with me to Hallmark and browsed. The ladies in there are so sweet and helpful. Two of them stood with me as we tested out all the new noise-making birthday-related gifts. The three of us were in stitches.

There is an older lady who works there who is just precious. Every hair is in place and she wears red lipstick and all matching jewelry. I can picture what her house looks like. I'll bet she has scatter rugs with fringe perfectly smoothed out and some kind of cute cookie jar on the kitchen counter.

I can tell a lot about a person within the first five seconds. Including whether or not they have cute cookie jars.

Anyway.

After I spent nearly an hour in the store sipping my liquid breakfast and pushing all the buttons of everything musical, I took my cards and wrapping paper to the counter where the sweet older lady checked me out.

She offered to have me sign up for a Hallmark card. I usually turn it down because I am in a rush, but my whole morning was off the cuff, so why not throw caution and time to the wind and take the time to fill out a little pamphlet?

She said,"You don't have to fill out anything on the form that you don't want to."

"Okay."

She continued, "You know some people are funny about that, like they don't want to tell you their birthday, but I say go ahead because they send you coupons. But whatever you want to do is fine."

"Oh, I'm one of those people. I am paranoid. I don't mind giving my information voluntarily,but it bugs me when stores try to be sneaky about it."

She said,"Oh, I know. I don't like that at all."

I continued to fill out the form as we talked.
I looked down at my form and realized that I'd made a mistake. I had gotten side-tracked by our conversation and instead of writing my street address, I wrote the house number and "Paranoia" as the street. I started laughing.

"Look what I wrote!" I said and showed her.

We had a chuckle at my expense (I blame it on the fasting labs) and I gave her my form with the correct address. When I told the lady I corrected it she said,"Darn. That would have been funny."

Cute rugs in her house and a sense of humor. Love her! I may not know whether or not I have a doctor's appointment, but I know people. Just don't ask me my address...

Frozen baked goods and '80s TV

2012-01-09T13:13:00.001-06:00

I just made Daughter biscuits and they match the ones in my header. (Mary B's, not homemade.)

I'm sure that adds joy to your day. I just had to mention it.

You're welcome.

Thanks for the encouragement and carpet solutions. I am going to try the ammonia/hydrogen peroxide combo. We had the carpet cleaned, but carpet cleaners don't do what a woman can. Sorry, guys. You may have the muscle, but we have the determination.

This weekend was pretty ordinary. In addition to our regular things, Daughter and I went shopping one afternoon. I love to check for bargains in January and the stores are usually pretty empty. I had several January birthdays and a baby gift purchase.

I love buying gifts for people. Along with sniffing out bad odors for large cities (I have the nose of a bloodhound) I have always thought I'd like to be a personal shopper.

This post is all over the place.

And since it is just pointless at this point, I'll go on another tangent. I've been watching Designing Women in the mornings and they are showing the episodes without Suzanne Sugarbaker. I love Designing Women, but those are the days when the show went downhill.

It's kind of like when Laura left Little House. Television was not the same. Little House has to have Half Pint and Designing Women has to have Suzanne Sugarbaker.

Am I right?

These were just a few bad decisions of the '80s, right up there with New Coke.

And now that I have taken the bloggy bridge to nowhere, I'll wish y'all a happy Monday. I browsed Designing Women clips but couldn't find just one to post. Tell me which scene is your favorite.

Edited to add: BooMama posted some great clips from DW. Head on over to see them and read her post. Let the Sugarbakers and their pet pigs live on!

The only resolve I have is for the carpets.

2012-01-05T20:51:00.001-06:00

According to my trend of not posting, it would appear that we just skipped over Christmas and New Year's. I haven't blogged anything since the Series of Unfortunate Cooktop Events. We did have a wonderful Christmas and New Year's which included going to church and eating black-eyed peas (which are equally spiritual.)

However, I won't review the holidays in detail as it is now 2012 and half of those holidays happened in another year.

The most important part was that over Christmas, we visited family in Georgia and South Carolina. Now that we are on the East side of Old Man River, I am a happy camper who can just drive to my people's homes as opposed to flying American Airlines and wondering if my Purell is going to exceed the liquids limit.

Here's a question: Who else out there refers to their family as their "people?"

And another one: Do you also know where your people are from and where other people's people are from?

Sorry for the digression. The sugar from my Christmas stocking is still affecting my brain.

This week I have been on a mission to get some things done. I have sort of resolved to get them done, not a resolution, per se, because I don't do those (mostly because I never follow through and then feel like a big flop and mire in self-scrutiny by about mid-March, which, is not good for the rest of the year,) but more of a goal (which oddly reminds me of supports and makes me twitch.)

I also should sort of resolve to improve my grammar and not turn run-on sentences into paragraphs.

But, ANYWAY.

Here is my checklist. Some of it will happen over time. I figure if I put it on the Internet for the few of you who read this, it makes me accountable and it will also stare me in the face every morning I log on.

1. Finish painting. Our tenants left the usual wear and tear and a few colors of which I am not a fan.

2. Replace cooktop. See previous blog posts.

3. Replace carpet or find some sort of magic carpet spot remover.

4. Hang pictures. Yes, it is sad. We have been in the house for months now and the only room with pictures is the master bedroom. I want to hang things differently which is why I put it off. I need to figure it out because all the plain walls are depressing and not very inviting.

5. Decorate the porch. It has wicker chairs and new cushions, but I need something on the door. It needs fluff.

I'm sure there is something else that I've forgotten. When I remember it, I'll add it to the list.

What about you? Any plans, resolutions or sort of resolutions for you or your people?

Now I know why men carry pocket knives; they need them to open boxes.

2011-12-21T09:29:00.000-06:00

If you made it through yesterday's post, you know I walked away from the "deal of a lifetime." At least, that's what Mr. Salesman would want me to believe.

Daughter and I continued our shopping, making a trip to Hallmark. I sent Hubs a text telling him I would pass on the cooktop and explain later. He wrote me back.

"Where are you?"

"The mall."

"Me, too."

"Where are you?"

"Near the food trough."

"Meet me outside Hallmark."

Then we looked up and saw each other. Hubs was doing some last minute shopping after work. I explained the situation with the cooktop and how the salesman wouldn't even open the box. Plus, the fact that he said the measurements for the downdraft portion were off made me a little skeptical. Honestly, it was all very odd because the box wasn't even opened yet. How did the previous customer know if the measurements were off? It all sounded made up, as Hubs would say.

Hubs wanted to go back and talk to him together. I agreed, but first we had to finish some shopping. We walked to Dillard's, split up again, and then met back.

When we arrived in the appliance store Hubs asked for the previous saleswoman he had spoken with the day before. Of course, she wasn't working that day. So, we wound up with Mr. Deal.

This time the salesman offered a different reason the last customers returned the cooktop, saying it was the measurements of the actual cooktop and not the downdraft. Obviously, he was guessing.

Then he continued to say, "Well, she was just interested in the burners."

HELLO. Of course I am interested in the burners. That's where all the cooking happens!

I said that I really wanted to see it, no matter what kind of burners it had. Hubs pressed and the salesman hesitantly opened the box.

Geesh.

Surprisingly, the burners were completely different than the ones in the picture and were actually more like the ones I am wanting. But the cooktop is glass, not porcelain or stainless, and I had to think about it.

If this is painful for you to read, I understand. The entire experience was painful.

We ended up walking away to talk about it and I decided that night to wait. I have had glass cooktops before and don't care for cleaning them. They are great as long as you use the perfect cleaner, but I always ended up using the wrong one because I am clumsy and a clutz and not good at following directions.

In the end, I'm still "driving" my old cooktop with the all its dents and wobbly burners. After Christmas, I will continue my test drives for a new one.

If, you know, they will let me actually see it.

I will be off the blog for a few days. Y'all have a Merry Christmas. I hope you get to open all of your boxes!

What can I do to get you into a downdraft cooktop today? It's got 10,000 BTUs.

2011-12-20T10:19:00.000-06:00

Daughter and I ran last minute errands yesterday in an effort to regain my sanity. My goal was to finish everything last week, before school was out, but alas, I didn't make the goal. I've never been good at sports.

Our first stop was the post office. The parking lot was full so the only place I found was behind the little "Authorized Vehicles Only" sign, so I went for it.

Hubs always teases me that I never break any rules, so I turned to Daughter and said, "Tell your daddy I parked where I wasn't supposed to today. He would be proud."

That was a pristine parenting moment, people.

As soon as we walked up to the post office, I saw the line and did an about face. We climbed into the car, pulled out of the illegal parking space, and headed for UPS.

The line at UPS wasn't much shorter, but Brown is so much more efficient than Newman, so we were finished in no time.

The next stop was the appliance store where we looked at a cooktop that Hubs had found on sale. We are looking to replace our old one and this store had one on closeout that had been returned from an order. Daughter and I stood browsing the cooktops on display.

The salesman walked up and asked,"Hello, m'am. What drove you in here today?"

I so wanted to tell him a Honda Pilot, but I thought that would be rude. Clever, but rude.

So I said,"A cooktop" which is not only inaccurate but actually impossible.

I proceeded to tell him that my husband had been in there the day before and looked at one on clearance.

"Oh, yes, this one," he said," as I recall the only thing wrong with it was that the measurements on the box did not match the actual measurements."

"Hmm.. the clerk yesterday said there was nothing wrong with it."

"Good."

Crickets chirping.

I continued,"So, the customer's measurements were wrong or the box is wrong?"

"The box."

"Then, can I open the box and look at it?"

"No."

More crickets.

He pointed to other models on the floor, all on sale but more expensive. I told him I needed a gas cooktop. The one on clearance was a real deal, but Hubs and I wanted to make sure it was one we wanted.

I asked again about the closeout one.

He started to walk away and said,"Let's look at a picture in the catalog."

At this point I was starting to understand why he asked me what I drove in there because I was beginning to feel like I was at the used car lot instead of the appliance center. I went along for the sake of being polite (again, I may break one law each decade, but I try my very best not to be rude.)

He flipped through the pages to show me a wallet-sized picture of the life-sized cooktop that was in the box on the floor that I could potentially see in person if only he would open the box.

Ahem.

He showed me pictures of other cooktops, some of them electric.

"I need gas," I said.

"Oh, yes, that's right," he said as he flipped the pages.

He turned back to the picture of the original cooktop. I looked at the tiny picture and told him that I wanted to see the burner covers, which is why I wanted to see it in person. I want a smooth, continuous burner cover so my tiny pots don't wobble.

He said,"Well, they're going to look like this. They're cast iron."

I looked more closely, becoming increasingly frustrated that I should be able to open the box and see the cooktop for myself. Right there in the little picture were burner covers that appeared to have openings at the burner.

Wobbly pots.

I told him those burner covers wouldn't work and I'd have to think about it.

He sighed and said,"Well, we're just going to have to blow up the cooktop and build a new house."

"Nope, we're going to have to keep shopping." I said, and politely walked away thanking him for his help.

That's when I decided to head toward what actually drove me there and go home. Right after I finished the rest of my errands.

That part of the story tomorrow.

Why I Love Fresh Market and Other Places That Draw Me Into Their Vortexes of Pleasant Shopping

2011-12-15T09:26:00.002-06:00

I suppose in Shakespeare's day, what you are about to read would be in the form of a poem or maybe even a sonnet, but this is 2011 and I'm sure not Shakespeare.

Fresh Market rocks.

(See, not Shakespeare.)

I have no idea if Fresh Market is regional or if most of you know what I am about to describe, but I have a feeling that if you do not have a Fresh Market near you, most of you (except those in SmallTowns everywhere) have something like it.

Fresh Market makes grocery shopping pleasant- not to the point of fun, because people who shop at Fresh Market are much more serious than that. (They probably read Shakespeare. ALOUD.) The marketing department is GENIUS. I can picture the development days when they all sat around with their half-caff, non-fat lattes in their all black wardrobes drawing the diagram of a grocery store experience on recycled bamboo paper.

Here is what they brainstormed:

1. Warm Welcome- As soon as I walk in, I see woven baskets hanging from some sort of natural display, market bags, gifts and candles. Then I turn the little corner into the dimly lit grocery store where I'm greeted by the scent of roses and lilies.

2. Fresh Flowers- The scent of roses and lilies is strong, but not funeral strong. Pleasant strong. The flowers are so fresh I'd swear a small child just picked them from her grandmother's garden. None of the flowers are ever wilted or brown and they all are wrapped in pretty papers.

3. Free Coffee- They give me coffee in tiny Dixie cups, the kind you use to rinse at the dentist, but because I am standing there near roses and kumquats, I don't notice my free coffee is just a tiny paper cup filled with two sips of coffee. No, I feel special, appreciated, dare I say- loved?

4. Dim Lighting- I am not sure if the dim lighting is to hide all the prices or just to add to that loved customer theme, but it works. Once my eyes have adjusted, I want to stay and spend money. (Rotten marketers!).

5. Classical music- Seriously. They play Bach while you check the lettuce.

6. Produce- Each tomato and every grape is exquisite. They have interesting fruits and vegetables that I can't get anywhere else, but I'll probably still have to go to Winn Dixie for my green peanuts. Granted, a head of cabbage is five dollars, but that would make some mighty fine cole slaw.

7. Perfection- Every single item on the shelf is perfect, free of flaws, dusted, and straight. But it's not perfect in a creepy Sleeping With The Enemy kind of way, more like a THIS PLACE IS AWESOME AND MAKES ME WANT TO BUY STUFF kind of way. (Although, the regular shoppers do not use words like awesome or stuff. I'm not a regular shopper. Could you guess?)

8. Special Displays- The cheese is always stacked haphazardly on purpose and even the chips look like they just arrived and are waiting for me to toss them ever-so-gently into my unique little shopping cart (that never, ever squeaks.)

Just FYI- Once a shopping cart squeaked in Fresh Market and an employee wearing a pretty apron and offering slices of warm French baguette, swiftly rolled it into a back room with the wilted lilies and the bags of bags of discarded Dixie coffee cups, never to be seen again.

9. Joyful Deli and Meat Department Workers- There are always people diligently making something and they always look happy. They even look attractive in hair nets. Maybe it's the dim lighting. They make me want to eat sushi and things like squid salad.

10. The Nut Bins- Every time I walk by I have the urge to purchase raw, organic almonds.

11. The Candy Bins- Chocolate covered everything. It is strategically placed right next to the free coffee, which makes me want to buy ten dollars worth of chocolate to see if it compliments the freshly brewed Dixie cup of Hazelnut blend.

12. Food I've Never Heard Of- They have crackers from France and cookies from Germany. (Cue the Bach CD.) All of it costs more than the gas that got me there yet I want to try each and every one. Oh, wouldn't that be tasty with some organic horseradish raspberry orange blossom honey mustard...

13. Izze- They sell it. Enough said.

14. Customers- We're all hyped up on free coffee, but the dim lighting makes us a bit sleepy, so it balances out and everyone is happy and friendly and simply a delight to be around.

"Oh, did you want to get by me so you can buy that nice Sockeye Salmon?"

"Why, yes."

"Then, pardon me. Let me move my quiet little cart so you can pass by."

"Thank you, lovely woman with the Dixie cup, have a most joyous day."

"You, too. May I say those roses in your cart compliment your skin?'

"Why, thank you. You are most kind."

15. Free Coffee- Yes, I repeat myself, because let's face it, whether it's at Sam's Club or the Wal-mart Auto Center, people love some free coffee. Drat! Those Dixie cups!

TV personalities stranded in the jungle would be happy to have this!

2011-12-08T09:36:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I felt a little like Paula Deen and a little like a reject from Iron Chef America.

Wouldn't it be a hoot if they had an Iron Chef The South? The secret ingredient is...water chestnuts!!

I was making a meal for a family who recently had a baby. I'd planned that menu and also needed to plan for my own family. Instead of having double dishes and trying to fit it all in the oven, I decided to put some chicken breasts in the crock pot for us. I made extra rice and cooked some veggies on the stove. While I was out delivering the meal to the family, I had Hubs and Daughter watch the biscuits. (Mary B's, not homemade.)

I returned and Hubs had taken the biscuits out of the oven. We were fixing our plates and I told him the biscuits were Mary B's.

"Oh," he said.

He doesn't complain, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice. Mary can make some mean biscuits. They are as close to homemade as you can find, but Hubs likes my biscuits. For this dinner, I didn't have time to make some from scratch.

Then we started dinner and I took a bite of my crock pot chicken.

"This is the most bland chicken I've ever made," I said.

Hubs and Daughter assured me it was fine and then I gave Daughter the go-ahead to get some ketchup from the frig.

Ketchup fixes everything.

I added some to my own plate and continued to eat the chicken.

Then Hubs spoke up in an effort of encouragement.

"If we were Survivorman, we'd be happy to have this," he said.

I put down my fork and laughed.

"So, basically you are saying that the only way this would be good is if it we were starving and we had nothing else to eat," I said.

"Ummmm..."

I ate my ketchup-covered chicken and continued to laugh knowing what he meant and that he was really trying to encourage me and also knowing that he was absolutely right. Survivorman could eat it, but only if he had some ketchup.

Hubs ate his chicken, along with two of his frozen biscuits and thanked me (as he always does) for making it. This is why I love him.

That's when Daughter spoke up and said,"You should blog this."

And so I did.

(And if you've never had Mary B's biscuits, do try. They are yummy. Unless your family members are experts in the homemade biscuit making circle, they will never know the difference.)

And the award for soliciting specimens goes to...

2011-12-06T21:39:00.001-06:00

I am happy to report that all of my begging and whining (for fish scraps) paid off. Daughter got second place on her science fair project. She is tickled to death and we are proud as can be. In case you were wondering, which I am CERTAIN you were, the exoskeletons were more affected by the vinegar.  This doesn't mean a whole lot except that we may never see pickled crab or oyster on the menu at Red Lobster.

They say that next year she can build on this project.  So, what does that mean? Should I go ahead and contact area merchants for shark cartilage?

I'm still holding out hope that she will choose to grow tomatoes.

On another subject, I was encouraged by your comments about getting ready for Christmas. I did manage to get more lights on the tree. It's not Martha Stewartish, but it is done.  Tomorrow we may go all out and hang an ornament.

We are crazy busy with the decorating.

Tomorrow was supposed to be a shopping day, but something came up, so now Friday will be a shopping day. Technically today was a shopping day since I was at Target buying Christmas lights.

As you can see life is riveting. This ain't New York.

Edited to note: I was reading over this again and realized my typo. It was the ENDOskeletons that were more affected. I corrected it. This is why she is the scientist and I am just the one who begs for FREE DEAD CRABS.

Not a post, but more of a survey really.

2011-12-06T11:24:00.000-06:00

We finally have a Christmas tree in our house. It only has lights on the bottom because each and every year a little lights thief climbs into our attic and steals at least one strand of lights. I am not kidding. Every. Single. Year. I end up buying lights because as soon as I start putting them on the tree, I realize we are short. Then I end up making a run to Target or Wal-mart. Maybe the little thief wears a red polo or a blue vest. It is VERY suspicious.

I am a bit behind on the decorating. Hopefully I'll be all caught up soon.

As soon as I get all the stuff down from the attic. Sigh...

What about you? How is your decorating going? And if you tell me that you are all done, the gifts are all wrapped, and your third dozen of cookies are in the oven, I won't harbor any grudges.

Nope. Not at all. AHEM.

Get My Daughter's Science Fair Project From A Garbage Can

2011-11-11T16:08:00.001-06:00

It was late at night.  Daughter's science fair was underway. I propped my feet up on the coffee table to rest a spell and decided to flip through her science fair packet. There on Page Important was some information in bold.

The science project needs to include at least 3-5 trials.

Kudos to the science teacher for trying her best to share this vital information with her students and parents. (Hello, it was in bold letters! What else could she have done to get me to notice?  Rent a billboard for me to read while I sat waiting in car line?)

So, despite her best efforts, I missed it.

It is also sad that I should have known this information without reading the packet since I did graduate from high school and even earned a college degree (which included an entire class aptly named "Experimentation.")

Sigh.

So, there we were thinking we were at the end of the experiment when in fact we were simply at the end of TRIAL ONE.  I emailed the teacher to ask if we could keep her scale for a few more days, confessing my blunder. She graciously agreed.

Then I scratched my head wondering where else I could go to beg for crab shells and fish bones. I couldn't go back to the original market and grocery stores because, somehow that just sounded, how do I say, pitiful?

Lucky for me, we have a string of grocery stores and seafood markets, so I thought of another Winn Dixie and a particular market I could visit.  I headed on my quest the next morning.

My first stop was Winn Dixie. When I pulled up I saw a tour bus with a group of retirees. I walked in to a sea of sweet little ladies wearing fanny packs and browsing the bakery.

I wanted to run up to the bus driver and ask,"Hey, do you know you are in FLORIDA?"

I mean, yes, Winn Dixie is a fine grocery store and they have regional importance, but if I were paying to be driven around the Sunshine State I would ask to be taken to, I don't know, the beach. Or even to a shopping center that had outlets stores as opposed to deli turkey on sale for $4.99 a pound.

I made my way to the seafood counter where I discovered that this Winn Dixie was not the crab people and they did not have any uncooked crab. I purchased some chicken for the chicken bones, latex gloves, and more vinegar.

Then I drove to the seafood market where I again gave my pathetic speech about my daughter's science fair project and could I just buy two oysters, one crab leg, and some fish remains? The young girl behind the counter was a bit confused about what to do so she asked her supervisor.

I overheard his instructions,"Just sell her two oysters, some crab legs, and give her a fish carcass."

The girl went to the back along with another young guy working the counter. The girl came out with what was left of a red snapper and two oysters.

Then the guy emerged with a dead crab. With a huge smile on his face, he declared,"I found her a dead crab!"

His discovery meant that I didn't have to buy any fresh crab and could walk away with a free dead crab.

Lucky me.

I paid for the oysters and the grouper I decided we should have for dinner, and walked to my car with the loot- two oysters, grouper fillets, a free dead crab, and a red snapper carcass still looking at me.

After picking up Daughter from school (Hey, honey! Look what Mom brought home this time!) I immediately came home and headed to the kitchen to clean the specimens.

Y'all. There is a reason they keep that stuff on ice.

I stood at the sink, cleaning, rinsing and removing crab meat from my FREE DEAD CRAB as Daughter held her little sandwich bags open for me to drop in the specimen.

I diligently worked except for one moment when I paused and said a prayer that next year Daughter would decide to grow tomatoes for her science fair project. Hubs had to actually shuck the oyster for me since this particular market said they couldn't do it for me (something about it being illegal because they also are a restaurant and how it is a health hazard, blah, blah, blah.)

After all the specimens were prepared, Daughter continued with her experiment.  I am happy to report that Trial Two is underway. There's an oyster shell, red snapper bone, chicken bone, and blue crab shell soaking in vinegar in my kitchen.

I suppose tomorrow she will continue on to Trial Three. Even if she never discovers the cure for osteoporosis, I have discovered ways to get free dead sea creatures. I've joined the ranks of stray cats everywhere.

Except for the faint odor of fish carcass on my hands, I am pretty proud of myself.

FREE DEAD CRAB.

I really should put that in bold...

I'll pass on the Filet-O-Fish, thankyouverymuch.

2011-11-08T13:00:00.006-06:00

I am often amazed and amused at the things I do as a mom.

Sure, we anticipate things like changing diapers, cleaning up puke in the middle of the night, or "saving" spiders who sneak inside and need to return to the outdoors (as opposed to squashing them like a bug, er, arachnid.)

We know we will do all of those duties through the years, but once our kids are potty trained and can relatively aim for the garbage during a stomach virus, we figure the extremely messy tasks of motherhood are passed us.

Then there is the science fair.

It is the monster of all monster school projects. As soon as you breathe life into it, it grows and grows into an enormous creature full of deadlines and log books and crazy, long words like hypothesis (which is an if/then phrase, in case you forgot.)

And don't even get me started on graphs.

This year Daughter was not required to do a science project. However, some of the kids could volunteer. Guess who raised her hand.

We've always taught her to go the extra mile, to do her very best, and to strive for excellence. It makes you a better person. It gives you confidence.

It gives your mom a migraine.

Daughter selected a few possibilities for her topic. One involved dog training, one explored the senses, and the other was related to bone loss.

She picked bone loss.

Specifically, she chose to test what will happen if you soak bones in vinegar. Apparently this is a common experiment, so the teacher helped her find a twist. Instead of simply soaking a chicken bone in vinegar, the teacher suggested she try other bones, and even compare types of skeletons.  At the end of our talk with the teacher, Daughter agreed and decided she would test the effects of vinegar on endoskeletons and exoskeletons.

Did I mention she volunteered? I did?

The experiment itself is simple enough and is actually pretty interesting, since different types of skeletons contain different levels of calcium which, by the way, can be broken down for different reasons (like pH, hence the vinegar.) Her study won't solve your grandmother's struggle with osteoporosis, but it could point to some interesting facts about bone loss.

Are you still here?

She came home from our meeting with the teacher all excited and I was actually relieved because this experiment was doable. Simple. Straightforward.

Until yesterday.

Daughter chose a chicken bone and a fish bone for her endoskeletons and a crab shell and oyster shell for the exoskeletons. The chicken bone was easy. I have deboned a chicken several times in my life. No problem. So I bought some drumsticks. Easy Peasy. (She wanted the bones to be uncooked, so that is why I had to search for fresh items instead of simply going through the KFC drive thru and keeping the leftovers.)

Chicken bone- check.

Fortunately for us, we live in Florida where seafood is abundant. So I stopped at a seafood market.

"This is going to sound odd, but my daughter is doing a science fair project involving fish bones, oyster shells, and crab shells. We aren't eating the meat, but I wondered if you have any scraps? Or can I just purchase one of each item?"

The shop owner went to the back room where they put all the fish scraps and returned with one oyster, which he shucked for me, and the tail and backbone of a flounder.

Let me just tell you that the next time you order your flounder fillet say a quick prayer thanking the seafood expert who delicately removed the backbone and tail for you so that you could enjoy a nice piece of flounder next to your sea salt baked potato.

Because yesterday? Yesterday I was given that very backbone and tail and let me tell you, it is nasty. I've cleaned fish before, but there is something about being handed a clear bag double tied with the remnants of a dead fish inside.

This is why they created Mother's Day, people.

The shop owner did not have any crab legs or any type of crab, so I made my way to Publix. I gave my same sad story speech about being the dedicated mother who helps her kid with a science fair project even though there is a fish carcass in her car as we speak, and could he please hurry up because it is almost 80 degrees out there?!

Maybe I didn't say that exactly, but I did ask for an uncooked crab shell. Publix only had cooked crab, so I got back in the car with my flounder fillet trash and drove to Winn Dixie.

As it turns out, Winn Dixie is not only the beef people, but they are the crab people, too. They had crab legs and I asked to buy a small one. The butcher took pity on me, snapped a claw off a snow crab in the case, wrapped it in butcher paper,, and wrote "No Sale. Mike."

Thanks, Mike.

At this point I was beginning to feel like a stray cat wandering from store to store begging for scraps.  I made my way to car line, cranked up the AC, setting the vents to the floor to cool down the flounder, and sipped my Starbucks coffee- a mom's reward for her dedication.

Daughter was extremely thankful when she climbed in the car and learned I had gathered her supplies, even though the supplies were starting to reek.

When we got home, I showed her all the goods.  Because they were not cooked, I took on the duty of cleaning. Daughter wrinkled up her nose and watched as I rinsed, pulled, cut, sliced, and scraped at endoskeletons and exoskeletons. Then she bagged and labeled them all, and placed them in the frig.

It was quite an afternoon, a learning experience. I feel like I have bonded with the hard-working folks at seafood markets and restaurant kitchens. God love 'em. I bet they got their training from their kid's science fair project.

They say the hearing is the first to go.

2011-10-12T07:19:00.110-05:00

I was supposed to get labs drawn one morning and although I could think of nothing better to do with my time than chatting it up with a phlebotomist about the weather and why she can or can not get a vein, I ended up on the computer and watching Rachael Ray. God love her. She loves to cook with smokey bacon.

I've met some super nice phlebotomisits. (For some reason today, I like to say that word. Is that not a cool word? Just rolls off the tongue.) There was the friendly Diane who always wore the fun, printed smock and smelled faintly of Virginia Slims (and Certs to try to cover it up for the patient.) Then there was Susan, who had the knee issues, but could probably get a vein if I were hanging upside down on the monkey bars, and Peggy, who, bless her heart, would move the tourniquet, tell me to squeeze the red ball, and thump, thump, thump 'til her thumb was blue, then give up and call in Susan.

(And, in case you are wondering, I am not ill or fighting off any chronic disease. I am on a routine medication which requires labs several times a year. But, thanks for caring, peeps.)

Needleless to say (sorry) I have had many experiences in the lab. The good thing is, I'm not afraid of needles.

I usually sit there calmly and chat it up with the lab techs. Because of that, I learned an insiders tip to that weird chair we all have to sit in.

You know the one? It is always too high, making my feet kind of dangle to the floor, and it has that little arm that folds down in front of you like you are getting on an amusement park ride. I always thought that little arm that folds down was for you to put your own arm out for them to stick. Nope, it's not.

On one of my many visits a tech asked me if I was squeamish, afraid of needles, or got light-headed. I told her "no," I was fine with needles. That's when she told me that the little arm that folds down is there to hold you up in case you pass out. She said some people do actually faint and that they put the arm down because they "can't really catch you from hitting the floor while they are holding a needle in your arm."

I'm glad safety is a priority, aren't you?

She began to describe the various patients she had helped who were genuinely scared or freaked out and that's when I was glad that the only thing that makes me squeamish is snakes.

So, if you are one of those people, bless your heart.

Wow. This is a long and boring post about needles.

Fast forward to when I actually got to the lab which was the following day.

The sweet tech called my right back, asked me my name and date of birth. We laughed about how I had the exact same birthday as her dad which prompted her to share a story about when they celebrated his birthday at Disney World and how her mom bought him some mouse ears. (See, I like to chat with phlebotomists. Okay, last time I use that word, but... cool, right?)

There was a patient sitting next to me, also in a safety seat with her feet kinda dangling. She said,"Wow! SHE is getting a lot of tests done!" I looked down and there were three vials there. The lab tech didn't comment and I just laughed it off. I think the other patient was nervous.

Within seconds the tech was done, handed me the little cotton ball and said, "Hold pressure, please."

I did and waited for my little strip of bandage tape as I heard her say,"Want some blood thinners?"

Puzzled, I frowned a bit and asked,"Why would you ask me that?"

"I'm not being nosey, ma'am. I just have to ask. It's for your own safety. You know, aspirin, coumadin.."

I laughed out loud. That's when I realized what she really said was, "Are you ON blood thinners?"

I told her about my misunderstanding and she (and the patient next to me) both laughed.

"Oh, no ma'am. I wasn't offering them to you. I bet you were thinking you were going to report me as soon as you left."

I said,"Well, I was wondering if it was some new kind of lab technique. I thought 'wow, that's new."

The three of us laughed while she prepared to work with the next patient and I grabbed my purse to prepare to leave. I walked out, certain that she had a story for her colleagues the rest of the day.

It seems that little folding arm on the chair may help you keep from falling to the floor in case you faint, but it does absolutely nothing for your hearing.

I Got You, Babe

2011-10-10T09:48:00.000-05:00

I was on the phone with a friend the other day and asked her how things were going.

"Groundhog Day," she said,"Every day is Groundhog Day."

I know how she feels.

Except for the Sonny and Cher song waking me up every morning.

And, you know, that I'm not Bill Murray.

The monotony of routine is getting to me. Every morning I wake up after hitting snooze at least three times, get coffee, let out dog (who I have to walk in the yard in my robe because our fence isn't up yet, but that is another story) put waffles in toaster, wake up Daughter, check waffles, WAKE UP DAUGHTER, throw on clothes, drive to school, hoist instrument out of car, drive home, go for a walk/run, and so on.

It says a lot about your day when the highlight is the 30 minutes that you take a jog around the neighborhood.

Yes, I know. Me. Running! FOR FUN.

Let me tell ya, that was a wake up call. So, now I have to figure out a way to make things not so groundhoggish, if that is a word, which I am pretty sure it's not.

I gotta mix it up a bit, bloggy peeps. Maybe even get jiggy with it.

What about you? Are you feeling like it's Groundhog Day?

And what is the highlight of your day? Surely it's not running.

Do share!

Swift Justice and Skinny Jeans

2011-10-03T17:25:00.002-05:00

Fall is in the air here in the Sunshine State. As soon as there was the whisper of a cool breeze, I ran out to the store to get my fall candle. (So, I didn't really run, I drove and then walked through the mall to Hallmark.) The movers won't pack candles, or at least won't pack some of them. For some reason they packed some of my jar candles, but they all smell like cherries, the ocean, or Christmas trees.

This reminds me. I really need to update my profile. According to the right margin of my blog, I still live in SmallTown, New Mexico. I actually live in MediumTown, Florida, so I need to get with it and change my information because I am all about full disclosure here on the blog (which is why my husband is Hubs and my daughter is Daughter. Not only honest and factual, but totally original.)

If I sound like I'm rambling it's because I am.

This weekend flew by. (More rambling)

Saturday was spent helping Daughter with a homework project, making sure it was proofread and printed, doing laundry, going to horseback riding, and checking out a new Wal-mart. I live in MediumTown and I still end up at Wal-mart at least once a week.

We went to church on Sunday (missed Sunday School, yet again) and then headed home to change and go shopping for school clothes because the child, she is growing.

Justice was on my list of stores to hit. They have everything in the store, EVERYTHING IN THE STORE 40% off (according to the huge sign) which meant we needed to stock up on jeans. I only shop Justice during a sale. I have issues with purchasing things at Justice for full price when I know I can get the exact same scented tee shirt and hoodie at Old Navy for half the price.

All girls love Justice, which used to be called Limited Too. For reasons unknown the company suddenly got all fancy and changed the name, which I don't get.

More rambling.

Honestly, I don't know how they came up with the name, "Justice." Apparently, girls are falling victim to fashion crimes and now they have to visit a store full of rainbow papasan chairs and slap bracelets so that the twenty-something clerk wearing jeans that need to be hemmed and worn out flip flips can swiftly declare a legal decision with her pink, fuzzy gavel.

Or maybe, you know, not.

Other than the name and the prices, my only other complaint is the music. They play the same songs over and over. I learned from the clerk in the unhemmed jeans and flip flops that the soundtrack is the same ten songs played again and again. It makes me want to shop very quickly, which is usually not beneficial to the retailer.

By the time we had found some jeans that fit, I told Daughter, "We have to leave before that song plays again or I'm gonna pull my hair out."

It's a good thing everything in the store was 40% off. EVERYTHING IN THE STORE.

Maybe Justice should take lessons from Old Navy in prices and music choices. Although, I don't get their name either.

Old Navy. Was there ever a New Navy?

I have no confidence in that gasket!

2011-09-29T12:43:00.000-05:00

I am a fairly independent woman. I can check the oil, change a tire, mow the lawn, and open most pickle jars. When it comes to plumbing, my skills are limited.

Several weeks ago I may or may not have put too many asparagus spears down the garbage disposal. Somehow, right after I did or did not flip the switch, the drain stopped up on the garbage disposal side. The other side drained perfectly fine. So, I waited for Hubs to get home from work to tell him that something had stopped up the disposal and that the something could possibly be asparagus.

He asked me for a bucket from the garage and I watched as he removed the PVC pipe to release a gush of water and mushy Spring vegetables.

Fast forward to a few days ago when I may or may not have been cleaning out the refrigerator and decided to rinse out a leftover rice dish.

Glug. Glug.

I flipped the switch and the water just whirled and swirled but refused to go down the drain. Hubs was not only at work, but also out of town, so I was on my own.

Independent Melanie remembered the repair demo she had received a few weeks early. So she grabbed the red bucket from the garage, removed the PVC elbow under the sink and watched as nothing happened. Only a few grains of rice fell.

I used a makeshift snake (an old wire hanger from the cleaners) to try and dislodge the rest of the rice.

Glug. Glug. Glug.

The clog was further up the pipe and I needed to remove another section. It was really, really tight.

The thing is that Strong Melanie is not as skilled as Independent Melanie, so I couldn't loosen the other portion of the PVC pipe to get to the clog.

So I painfully called the plumber.

"Tony" showed up, right on time, donning his red surgical booties and wiping his shoes on a red doormat with the cartoon of a happy plumber on it.

Cute.

He looked under the sink, offered me a quote, and I signed my life away as he removed the clog that I may or may not have caused, and I watched as gush of smelly water and rice plopped into the red bucket.

After all was said and done, Tony asked if I would like a complimentary plumbing inspection to check for any problems or leaks. I agreed because I had just spent over $100 on a drain so I'd better get something else out of this deal.

He walked around the house and I followed with that sinking feeling "Oh, I hope my pipes live up to standards."

Tony called me into the laundry room.

"M'am, do you turn off your valves when you aren't using your washer??"

"Um, no."

He let out a sigh and clicked his pen.

"It is recommended by the manufacturer to turn off your valves when not using the washer. This is the leading cause of floods in home and these hoses are not as strong as the steel ones."

Another click of the pen.

"Ok," I said sheepishly.

"And do you see these?" he pointed to connections on the hot water heater," They are slightly corroded and you should keep an eye on them."

With another click of his pen he made notes and I squirmed, wondering what he was writing. I suddenly felt like I was in high school trying to pass my driver's test.

He moved on to the bathroom where I heard water running, a flush, and more water running.

Tony walked back into the living room in his little red booties and said,"How often do you use that jet tub?"

"Not often."

"HOW often?"

"Once a month."

Sigh, click, sigh.

And then he proceeded to tell me about how all the water sits in the pipes and that if the tub isn't used bacteria can grow and grow and I should either use it more often or fill it with water and bleach and run the jets periodically to clean it out.

Corroding valves?! Flimsy hoses?! And now I may have a gazillion bacteria growing in my bathtub! This doesn't do much for a girl's plumbing self-esteem.

Sigh. Click.

I wished I had just gone to get the oil changed in the car because a lecture from the mechanic is far better than the systematic inspection from a plumber in little red booties.

However, I clung to hope because my drains and toilets passed beautifully.

At the end of the service call, I learned to buy new washing machine hoses, look for leaks on a water heater, and run ice cubes down the garbage disposal to sharpen the blades.

I also learned that I need to strengthen my hands so I can remove PVC pipe in order to prevent future plumbing lectures and huge repair bills. I guess I'll practice opening pickle jars.

Oh, and I am soooo getting some little red booties.

Seinfeld fans, enjoy this clip.

Like A Thousand Mondays

2011-09-28T10:15:00.000-05:00

It has been one of those weeks. or has it been months?

Nothing unusual or difficult or unusually difficult, just little things. When little things start to pile up, that pile just grows and grows until it becomes a big ole' proverbial mountainous molehill.

Instead of describing all the little things in detail, I will list the big lessons I've learned from them.

1. Always do a thorough check of the backseat before letting you dog climb in.

2.  Small amounts of rice can stop up at garbage disposal.

3. Lime peels do not help with the smell in a garbage disposal and may inadvertently be used to cause a clog.

4. When running the dishwasher, remember that it drains using the same drain that is clogged.

5.  When moving, ask the phone company for a new phone number that did not used to belong to a person being investigated for fraud.

6. The husband's work schedule may change without notice several times within the hour.

7.   Keep the computer on at all times in case a relative needs to call you to reserve a rental car.

8. Dogs may use the carpet as a potty area, especially when your mother is visiting.

9. When ordering flowers, be specific about colors and styles. Your interpretation of "Fall" and "bright" are very different.

10. When ordering said flowers, remembering the loved one is the most important part. The life they lived keeps it in perspective.

11. Children remember Every. Single. Sarcastic. Thing. you say. And often repeat it. On classwork at school.

12. Teachers with a sense of humor are a gift from The Lord.

13. A decaf, non-fat latte' can cure a world of ills.

14. Training a dog early to follow the command "drop" is often helpful.

15. Dogs should never chew Juicy Fruit gum.

16. Always refer back to Lesson #1.

More Things I Don't Understand: Edition I Have No Idea

2011-09-05T20:58:00.000-05:00

1. Why you always find coins alone, without other coins. How does a person drop just one coin in a parking lot? Why not several? And what were they doing in the parking lot that they would have the occasion to drop the money? Did they wait to count their change after they left the store?

2. Chess

3. The falcon insurance commercial. I don't get why anyone would want a falcon. My husband gets it, though.

4. Single ply toilet paper. Why is it even an option?

5. Arugula

6. People who get in the regular line at Wal-mart but only have 1 or 2 items. I don't get that.

7. The big deal about Jennifer Aniston. She seems like a perfectly nice person, but I don't understand the fascination. Maybe she likes arugula.

8. The new Polo shirts with the huge logo. It takes up half the shirt.

9. Why Izod used an alligator.

10. What ingredient in Reese's cups makes them addictive and why you have to eat them a certain way.

Wonder how Jennifer Aniston eats her Reese's...

When Pigs Fly Over Your Kitchen Table

2011-08-25T21:22:00.001-05:00

**Edited to update. I ordered mine from Plow and Hearth, but you can Google flying pig chandelier and several other stores carry it.

My chandelier was damaged. (Um, no box? Hello?) So I can't bring myself to show you a photo of it. The pigs have gone to the slaughter...

So, here is the catalog pic. I hope to have it replaced. .

(It is actually not iron, but cast metal.)

Go ahead and laugh. That's why I love it.

Boxes

2011-08-18T09:59:00.000-05:00

You never think you have a lot of stuff until it is all put into boxes.

You have yard sales to declutter and simplify before you pack up and when all of it is packed you are so happy and pleased with your efforts. But, then you get to the new place and start to unpack. No matter how many yard sales you had before you moved, you wish you'd had another one.

By day nine of unpacking you are past the yard sale phase and have decided what you really should have done is donate it all to a charity promoting world peace and preventing world hunger and just live in the back of your new house in a small pup tent that you bought from a boy scout.

Every day I get up and walk through a box maze to the Keurig coffee maker. (See, moving has driven me to drink.) I sip from the one cup I could find and watch a little Regis and Kelly. As the days progress the maze gets smaller and the coffee mug choices get larger, as I unpack more and more boxes.

Boxes have personalities. Ugly, smug, sneaky, and calculating. They smile with their packing-tape grins and tease, "Nah nah nah nah nah!!!"

There are the clueless, forgetful ones with missing parts. ("Electronics and chords" (always misspelled.)

There are the friendly, but cumbersome ones ("Clothes")

But, the nastiest and rudest of all are labeled, "China."

Each tea cup is wrapped in at least one hundred pieces of paper and each dinner plate is stacked in an origami designed, multi-layered paper girdle.

My china packer on this move was so thorough in his china wrapping skills that he stuck one great big strip of packing tape around the layers and layers of paper just to be sure that the china didn't come unwrapped as it traveled across the country in the huge moving truck. (You never know. Those Lenox china sets have been known to try and sneak out in the night while the driver gets twenty minutes of sleep at the Super 8 in Dallas.)

But my iron flying pig chandelier didn't even make it into a box.

Go figure.

I am happy to say that yesterday I unpacked my very last box of china and glassware. (I think.) Unless one is lurking in the garage giggling with glee that he has managed to hide away in the dark without my knowledge, I can now move on to the less tedious, but equally challenging items.

"Decor."

Who knows what could be in there!?

The Reader's Digest Version

2011-08-03T09:42:00.000-05:00

Newsflash.

We moved.

My third grade English teacher would be so proud of my introductory paragraph.

Hubs' job has taken us back to the Florida panhandle. Back to the beach, the waves, and most importantly, Target.

As an added bonus (not that Target and Starbucks were not enough for me, my friends) we get to move back into our house. We've had tenants in our home for the last three years, good tenants. Thank the good Lord for that. However, their color choices are not my color choices.

I like color. They like brown.

I have friends with beautiful homes filled with browns and tans and camels and khakis. Their homes are lovely. If I try to decorate mine with the exact same colors, it doesn't look good at all. They say you choose the colors that look good on you. This may be true. I tend to decorate with what I wear- greens, blues, pale yellows and greens. Brown is not my color. The last time I owned a brown coat I looked like I had the flu for the entire winter.

So. Anywho.

We've been painting. And here's the other thing. The air conditioner is out. Yes, m'am. I move back to 95 degrees with 200% humidity and I choose to paint my house while the air conditioning is busted. Hey, I never claimed to be smart. (We are in a hotel, so at least we don't have to sleep there.)

Our household goods don't arrive until next week so I am trying to use my time wisely, painting and cleaning before they get here. Hopefully today the air conditioning will be fixed today and the paint won't melt off the all, along with my make-up.

On another note, I am looking forward to The Help coming out soon. I loved the book and can't wait to see the movie.

What about you? What's your news?

Yes, Virginia, there is a place to get your diesel and your dinner.

2011-07-25T00:58:00.002-05:00

There is a standing joke about the South that you can fill your tank and stomach at the gas station. Some gas stations specialize in fried chicken. Others have sandwiches. Once I bought a seven-layered cake at a gas station. In fact, I made a special trip. However, I have never actually sat down to eat at one.

Until today.

There's a little town outside of Smalltown, New Mexico which boasts a gas station/restaurant. I don't know if it has a name at all because the only sign on the building simply reads "Restaurant." Hubs heard about their green chile cheeseburger at work and was determined to have one.

Today we left horseback riding and headed to The Restaurant. We also happened to need gas, so we pulled up, filled the tank, then drove the car another 40 feet or so to park.

We stopped by the cashier to pay for the gas. As I waited, I saw a sign next to the beef jerky which read (forgive me as I paraphrase,) "We do not sell raw meat to the public. We can only sell bacon or luncheon meats, and are not allowed to sell raw meat. We are trying to change this, but do not sell raw meat to the public until further notice. Sincerely, Virginia."

Now, I don't exactly know how many people walk into a gas station wanting to buy raw meat, but apparently there is a huge demand for it there. I don't know about you, but I am thankful that Virginia nipped that one in the bud.

We walked over to the dining area and found the short order counter. The hostess/waitress pointed to the menus in the little plastic bins and the three of us took a look. The green chile cheeseburger wasn't on the menu, but Hubs asked about it and she said she would make him one. Daughter ordered the classic burger, and I simply ordered hamburger steak, with a salad and baked potato.

After we made our drinks at the little soda machine, we found a table by the window. I have to say the view of the gas pumps outside added to the atmosphere.

As we finished our dinner, a family came in, pushed three tables together, and stood in line to order. Grandma got the silverware from the little bins and set the tables. My guess is that they were waiting for more relatives to join them.

Grandpa, in his Wrangler jeans and cowboy boots, placed an order for his grandson.

"He'll have the hamburger without any vegetables. Is that right, son?"

"Yessir," the little boy answered.

As we left, I heard the cook fire up the grill and thought to myself, "I bet Virginia would be pleased."

Dear Blog,

2011-07-22T08:47:00.000-05:00

I have had this post in my head for months. The one where I write how much I missed you, dear blog, and that I should visit you more often.

Then again, it is a lot like saying you miss going to see Aunt Edna. Aunt Edna knows you love her and she wishes you would visit. You love her, too and you truly, truly miss her. But, now you've been away so long that it feels awkward going back, even though all you want to do is run up on the porch, hug her, and have some of her cookies.

Okay. So that wasn't the best analogy. This is what happens when you don't write for months. You ramble and ramble and make up ridiculous scenarios about relatives and baked goods.

The truth is I have missed blogging, but every time I thought I would make the time to write, I didn't. Every time I wanted to write, the screen stared back at me in silence. It felt awkward, kind of odd, and I even had to remind myself of my login password, like having to call Aunt Edna for directions.

But, now? I have the itch again. I have stories in my head. Silly, ridiculous phrases about life that make no sense whatsoever.

You know, my typical stuff.

So, I've missed you dear blog, dear banner that still makes me laugh. I have missed you, site meter and blogger login page. I promise to visit more often and this time I will bring the cookies.

Sincerely,
Melanie

Does your wife prefer milk or honey in her Prince of Wales?

2011-06-08T23:16:00.001-05:00

I really should start writing more than once a week.

Anyhoo.

Hubs and I played a game on the computer which was really a quiz to see how well you know your spouse. About halfway through the quiz we realized the website was based in England which explained why they asked about your mum and whether or not you like Catherine Tate (who I had to Google later.)

So we finished it anyway because we are committed like that and then found another quiz which was more suited to our geographical location.

We scored pretty well, pumping up our confidence that we have a good marriage since online quizzes are extremely reliable marriage meters.

Hubs did well. He knew I didn't like surprises, I do like espresso, and that my favorite color is pink. He was rather clueless about my dream job. He said "CIA agent" which, to his credit, isn't really my dream job, but maybe my dream, at least in the 4th grade.

When I said,"No, it's writer," he said, "OH, YEAH!"

Further proving my point that I need to blog more than once a week.

What about you? What's your dream job? Better yet, take any good British marriage quizzes lately?

Some may doubt that she is adopted.

2011-05-31T20:57:00.000-05:00

Our dog Jessie is... um, unique.

As I write she is trying to fluff her bed that can't really be fluffed. She also does this with blankets. In addition, her head is too small for her body.

That could explain it.

Oh, I'll just make a list...

1. She has a tuft of hair on top of her head that sticks straight up. We call it her "do."

2. She is unusually skittish of the wind.

3. She lifts her leg when she goes potty.

4. When her ear gets flipped inside out, she just leaves it there. For like hours.

5. We flip it back for her.

6. When we first brought her home she wouldn't eat out of a bowl. I had to feed her on my (now retired) Pampered Chef cutting mat. Or the floor. I prefer the mat.

7. She thinks the doorbell on iCarly belongs to us.

8. She is afraid of the brush but not the small comb.

9. She hides treats around the house and then forgets them.

10. She likes to smell hair.

11. She hangs upside down on the couch. Until she falls off. Then climbs back up and does it all over again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to turn down the television. iCarly is coming on and it could send her into a frenzy.

She fits right in.

Can't we just have a nice, fun Spelling Bee?

2011-05-29T12:17:00.004-05:00

There are a few things from childhood that should be passed on from one generation to the next, like playing Duck, Duck, Goose, saying "Jinx! You owe me a Coke" when two friends say the same thing at the exact same time, and the age-old decision maker (which could actually be used in international peace talks) Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Then there are the things that should die, never to be spoken of again.

Like school lunch meatloaf, that wierd powdery substance the custodian uses to clean up vomit, and field day.

I always hated field day. We've already established in prior blog posts that I am neither athletic nor interested in sports. The one sport I watch on television is baseball and that is because it's the only one I understand.

I'm gifted.

I remember wanting to be sick on field day. I don't know why I never asked Mama to let me stay home. Maybe it's because I knew she wouldn't let me. She would never lie and what is a mother supposed to write on that excuse? "My daughter was absent because the three-legged race makes her nervous?"

Everything made me nervous. It runs in the family.

So, when I received the email from Daughter's school that they needed volunteers for field day (which is now known as the olympics. Let me tell ya, that doesn't help their case) I quickly sent that email to the delete file.

My good friend Kim even tried to convince me to make cotton candy that day. No way. Even pink spun sugar couldn't lure me to field day. Making cotton candy is one step away from working the sack race booth. Just thinking about it makes me itch a little.

I stayed home. While all the other devoted mothers manned cotton candy machines and bean bag tosses, I was all cozy in my sweats waiting for Barbara Walters to bring up a hot topic. That's when Nancy called me.

"Hey. I'm freezing. Will you bring me a hoodie?"

Who is this?

Oh, I kid. Just a little.

So as the good friend I am, I gathered several hoodies (a girl needs options) and headed to the school. Nancy didn't tell me where she was so I had to wander through the booths shouting out to other volunteer moms and even to Daughter until I found Nancy huddled in the wind, shivering.

I gave her the hoodie of her choice and meandered back through a sea of elementary kids, most of whom had the same expression on their faces that I used to have. The one that says, "I wish I was sick today" and "Oh, man. The three-legged race makes me nervous."

Once in the parking lot, I let out a sigh of relief that I'd survived, managing to avoid all field day volunteer opportunities.

It seems my feelings of field day have passed on to my own daughter. I could see it on her face before she got to the car line. As she described the torturous events of the day (which included them running out of cotton candy, gahhh!) I decided that the tradition of field day should not be passed on to the next generation.

It should be swept away by the custodian in that weird powdery substance, along with the lunchroom meatloaf.

I just hope there are no fingerprints on the television when the trumpet sounds.

2011-05-22T21:13:00.000-05:00

I don't mean to make light of the END OF THE WORLD or anything but I was just a tad bit glad that May 21, 2011 wasn't it because my house did not meet rapture standards.

I have always had company standards and vacation standards, but now all of this end of days talk has made me create rapture standards.

I clean before we go on vacation so my relatives don't talk about me at the funeral. Well, they can talk but I want it to be about my casseroles and not my toilet bowls. I make sure everything is dusted, the bathrooms are scoured, and the trash is taken out. I have a fear that we will all die and my mother and mother-in-law will enter the house appalled at my poor cleaning abilities.

"I always suspected," they would say.

Company standards trump vacation standards. In addition to the typical vacation standards of clean floors and uncluttered counters, company standards include pressed pillowcases and good smelling bath soaps.

Obviously, rapture standards trumps everything else. I am not certain what I will add to rapture standards but I'm pretty sure I'll be going through our movie collection. Not that we have anything that one would call questionable but I know some people may want to pillage my Gone With The Wind collector's edition.

I'll be spending this week cleaning house. If those crazy folks decide to predict a new date, please give me a good, solid week. I haven't done the baseboards in forever.

All of this rapture talk has made me ponder my faith, my spiritual readiness, and yes, my dust bunnies, giving new meaning to "Get Ready."

And, yes I will be grateful when Christ returns and takes me out of here, but is it a sin to hope that my house is clean at the same time?

On a serious note, are you ready?

Now that there is an automobile.

2011-05-16T19:02:00.000-05:00

Hubs has never been what you would call "into cars." Now, he likes cars, as opposed to say having to walk everywhere, but he has never been the type of guy who would point out a Ford Mustang or a Grand Prix, or a BMW for that matter.

He has also been the type of husband who always ended up with the hand-me-down vehicle. Either I hand the old family car down to him when we purchase a new one, or someone else does when they trade theirs in at the used car lot. His last car was a used Toyota Camry with engine light issues which, at the time, I believed to be the beater.

I. Had. No. Idea.

When we moved to Smalltown nearly three years ago, we sold the Camry and drove out here in one vehicle, our (my, ahem) new Honda Pilot. It is always easier to make a cross country move in one vehicle and Hubs decided when we arrived in Smalltown that he would buy another beater that he would sell when we left Smalltown.

Once we settled into our home, we went car shopping. We visited the used lots at the Toyota and Ford dealers. None of them were within Hubs' price range which really meant that they were all still running. I kept trying to persuade him to spend a little more so we could have a warranty, but he was convinced that he could find the perfect (or imperfect) car for him that he would simply sell when we left town. After all, he only needed it to get him to and from work.

That's when we met Rusty.

Rusty is the nicest and most honest used car salesman I have ever met. He even plays Christian radio in his showroom. Granted, his showroom also has one crusty old coffee pot with sugar packets from 1984 and a small upholstered chair that may or may not have been in a nursing home visitation area.

I'm just sayin.'

We met Rusty when the dealer down the road told us that Rusty is the man he sells his unsellables to when they can't get them off the lot. Let that sink in for a minute.

Rusty's used car lot, known as Car City, sits on the edge of town. There are slightly dinged pick-ups and compact cars scattered on the lot, along with a huge family of prairie dogs who peep up out of their holes at sunset next to white wall tires and bent fenders.

Praire dogs aside, Rusty found a car that met Hubs' standards. It was (somewhat) reliable, it had four tires, a steering wheel, a windshield (with a crack) and most of all, it was cheap.

Let's make a deal.

We did and Hubs drove away from Car City in a Dodge Intrepid, well, once the cracked windshield was replaced.

Since that fateful day, the Dodge IsCrepid, has leaked oil, made strange transmission noises, yet has managed to get Hubs to and from work, fulfilling its purpose, adding a new spin on the Purpose Driven Life series.

It has also been my nemesis.

Because we all know that no matter how much you say that a vehicle will only be driven by one family member in order to get them from Point A to Point B and back, it is part of Murphy's Law that the secondary driver (me) will someday have to go to Albertson's while the vehicle's primary driver (Hubs) takes Daughter to horseback riding in the secondary driver's very comfortable Honda Pilot.

Now I know what you are thinking. Why can't the primary driver (Hubs) take Daughter to horseback riding in the Dodge? I'll tell you. It's because the secondary driver doesn't want her kid stranded in the country.

It's a Mother's Love.

I climbed in the Dodge yesterday to head to Albertson's and just as I started the engine, Hubs ran up along side me motioning for me to roll down the window. As I did, the window went down slowly with a squeal and a squeak.

Hubs reached in the car and said,"The turn signal doesn't work. It broke off."

"Broke off?" I said,"I can't drive this. It isn't safe."

"Yeah, you can, just stick your arm out like this to turn right and like this to turn left."

I rolled me eyes and rolled up the window. SQUEAK. SQUEAL.

Then headed to Albertson's, remembering all the arm motions I learned in Driver's Ed, and praying for a miracle that perhaps if I lingered in the deli long enough someone would steal the Dodge and drive it away.

A girl can dream.

All the while, Hubs and Daughter safely and comfortably drove to horseback riding lessons in the Honda Pilot. My Honda Pilot. With my new Elton John CD.

So if you ever see a white Intrepid with Florida plates and a small ding on the rear bumper, feel free to drive it away. I left the keys in the ignition for you. Just make sure you remember to stick your arm out of the window when you make that right turn next to Car City.

And while you're sitting at the stop sign, wave to the prairie dogs for me.

Southern Girl In A Parka

2011-02-10T11:18:00.002-06:00

Nearly three years ago Hubs' job brought me to New Mexico. It's the place with little rain, lots of sunshine, and warm days. I thought I was living in the Land of Enchantment. Turns out I'm in Palin's Alaska.

Yesterday's wind chills were below freezing and we have another layer of snow, now melting. In the past week I have prepped the pantry for power outages (lots of peanut butter and bread,) watched the roads shimmer with black ice, and purchased a snow shovel.

It's not that I am afraid to shovel or even that I don't want to do the work. The truth is that if the need arises for me to use a snow shovel, it means it is COLD. I don't like cold.

We Southern girls (at least some of us) don't shy away from hard work. We may appear to be dainty and delicate. The truth is we are tough, independent and not afraid to to get dirty. And no, unlike all those swooning characters in the movies, we don't faint. Well, except for that one sweet aunt in every Southerner's family who more than likely suffers from a girdle that's too tight.

So when the time came to clear the driveway, I layered up in my thermals, sweatshirt, boots and parka. If you had told me when I was a child in Southwest Georgia that I would one day own a parka, I would have crinkled up my face at you in confusion. I always thought only skiers wore parkas. Skiers are athletic and, goodness knows, I'm not athletic.

I shoveled. I cracked and removed ice. Daughter looked on from the warmth inside as she prepared to go to school. With all the snow and ice gone, we managed to make it to car line without skidding and slipping down the drive and looking like folks who "aren't from around here."

The next time the driveway needed shoveling, Daughter donned her own parka. She shoveled, scraped and scooped until the driveway was safe again. Just like a good Southern girl, tough and independent.

And, yes, she volunteered.

Like her Southern mama, she came inside for a cup of hot chocolate, topped with Redi Whip and sprinkles.

Hey, we're tough, but we're not stupid.

"We are, like our beloved garden greens, sturdy, strong, and best when tested by the elements and fully seasoned. I never bought the notion of the "steel magnolia" because it's a short-lived, silly blossom that can't make it through a simple Women's Missionary Union meeting without shedding its powdery guts onto the mahogany sideboard."
Celia Rivenbark- We're Just Like You, Only Prettier

This is not the kind of blizzard where you get Oreos and Reese's Cups.

2011-02-02T09:09:00.000-06:00

Right now it is a balmy -26 degrees wind chill here in Smalltown. Fun times.

We've had several days of snow and strong winds. The snow isn't deep but the temps are freezing. If there was any doubt before, it is now completely clear to me that this Southern girl has Southern blood running through her veins. Arctic weather is not for me. Give me a 100 degree day with 95% humidity, some Skin So Soft for the gnats, and I'm good. (As long as I have some A/C and a big glass of sweet tea, or course.)

I haven't been out of the house since Tuesday. OK, twice I stepped on the porch to look down the street at a neighborhood power outage. We had power throughout the night, but one section of our neighborhood was in the cold darkness for several hours.

But, other than stepping two feet onto the crunchy snow in my parka and snow boots, I've stayed inside.

I plan to do the same today because (1) The roads are looking less than reliable with the possibility of ice and (2) It's cold, people!

Just to emphasize how wimpy I am, let me tell you about Daughter's horseback riding instructor. This lady has been outside in the weather chopping ice from water tanks, replenishing fresh hay, and checking on all of her horses. As she put it, by the time she was bundled up, fifteen minutes had passed, she still hadn't left the house, and she looked like the Michelin man. Or Michelin woman, as it were.

She is tough as nails. A true pioneer woman. She braved the weather in layers upon layers of fluffy down and fleece, battled icy shovels, and diligently worked with gloves which froze to the horses' gate latches. At the end of her rounds, she reported that all horses were fine, braving the elements as they were designed to, with tails to the wind.

Which is exactly how I would be posed. Only I think I will keep mine inside.

Clarity And Cold (Sounds Like A Country Song)

2011-01-14T14:15:00.001-06:00

I was chatting with a friend last night who had read my blog post from Monday. She misunderstood my post and thought that we had cocktails at the baby shower. She found it interesting that a baptist church would serve cocktails. She also wondered why a new mom would open a Cuisinart at a baby shower.

So in the interest of clarity, let me go on the record and say we had nothing stronger than the ginger ale in the pink punch and that my references were to a BRIDAL SHOWER which WAS NOT AT THE LOCAL BAPTIST CHURCH. (I may also add that I didn't partake of any of those cocktails.)

However, I must say a Cuisinart can make a nice gift at any stage in life.

Now that I have all the housekeeping done, let me move on to the rest of my week.

Monday was spent at the doctor's office, two in fact. Nothing serious. Just routine stuff. At first, I was kind of bummed that I had scheduled two appointments for the same day. Once the day was over, I was glad that it only took up one day of the week instead of two.

I'm old. Doctor's appointments have managed to make the blog. Next thing you know I'll be carrying all my pills in a Ziploc bag and talking about the weather.

It has been cold.

On Tuesday morning, I woke up to freezing temperatures. School was delayed due to weather problems and if it had not been for a text message from a friend, I would have been the only mom dropping off her kid at car line. I knew it was cold, but I didn't know how cold.

Until I noticed the low water pressure. Then Jessie came inside with a muddy face and paws. Not a good sign.

I walked to the alley and discovered my fears were validated. The valves connecting the main line to the house line had frozen and burst. Water was gushing out and all the birds were playing in it. A call to the water company brought a repairman who was able to shut off the geyser and still give us access to water. That afternoon the Sprinkler Guy (as he is officially know) fixed the valve, reinsulated the box, and even covered it in dirt for extra protection.

Whew.

Wednesdays are usually our horseback lessons and the temperatures were still near freezing with wind chills in the 20's. Daughter's instructor always gives us the option to cancel for poor weather, but my daughter decided to cowgirl up and ride anyway. Me, being the deranged, I mean supportive mother that I am, agreed to let her ride as long as she wore layers, gloves, and bundled up.

Her instructor also agreed. One other adult student was riding and the third student opted out because of the weather (smart girl.) Bundled up, we all headed out to the arena. I huddled there on the stool next to her instructor as we discussed horseback riding. New Mexico weather, and the old show Green Acres.

Then she turned to me and said, "Are we certifiable?"

"Yes," I said through chattering teeth and blue lips.

Each time the students rounded the corner, the instructor would check on them. They were cold, but they wanted to continue.

As it tends to do in New Mexico, the temperatures dropped, the wind direction changed, and in the words of Allison's horseback riding instructor, "It's no longer cold. It's BITTER."

Then, she called out,"Bring 'em in, girls."

The strong, steel magnolia Melanie was proud of toughing it out but the real Melanie breathed a sigh of relief. Because it was so cold, I could actually see that sigh of relief.

Sometimes you have to cowgirl up, but even cowgirls know when to bring 'em in.

And wear thermals.

The Unknown History Of French Design and Why You Could Get Carded At Your Next Bridal Shower

2011-01-10T09:36:00.001-06:00

I am drinking coffee and sitting at the computer (obvious) in my robe and slippers. The robe smells faintly of dog because Jessie loves to cuddle. It also smells faintly of my new perfume which could either be a good tool to mask the puppy smell or a very bad combination.

Either way I think I will throw it in the wash after I post this.

Legend has it (cough cough) that Coco Chanel was designing a perfume back in the 20's when she put in a request for "musk." Her assistant was busy listening to Ragtime on her phonograph (the 20's version of Beyonce on the Ipod) when she misunderstood and thought she said "mutt." This grave mistake was the catalyst for Chanel's assistant's new career as a dog groomer.

Or so I've heard.

So now it is exactly 7:30 AM and all I've done is go on and on about how badly I need to do laundry while I perpetuate rumors on the Internet about a famous designer and dog grooming.

Insert transition here.

Our weekend was pretty typical for us. Daughter had a friend over after school on Friday. They put on a play which they wrote themselves and may I just say that are so creative. Later that night Daughter and I decided to have a slumber party which is really just us sleeping on the floor after watching a movie. Or, in my case, me falling asleep on the floor while watching a movie.

We went to a baby shower for twins on Saturday. I love baby showers, even now that I don't have a baby. Baby showers make me feel happy and nostalgic and I am always excited to see a new mom or mom-to-be waiting in anticipation.

However, bridal showers only make me feel old. Do you know that now they serve cocktails at bridal showers? I am baptist, so that would never have been a menu option for the ladies of the WMU, but it seems to be a growing trend to get a little tipsy while you open up your new Cuisinart.

And I always thought the cheese straws were spicy.

Sunday was church, a quick stop at the grocery store, and a short walk and bike ride. It is getting cold here in New Mexico. Makes me want to stay in my robe all day.

Right after I wash it.

Like Kudzu, Only Not As Interesting

2011-01-07T18:34:00.001-06:00

Legend has it that kudzu was brought to the South from Japan or somewhere to prevent soil erosion. Well, guess what? It worked. Now you see kudzu all over the sides of highways and dirt roads in Alabama, Georgia, and any other state which breeds mosquitoes in Biblical proportions.

Not that there is a connection between kudzu and mosquitoes.

At least, I don't think there is.

Kudzu spreads like a bad strain of pinkeye (not sure if there is a good strain of pinkeye.) It covers anything remotely stationary, killing or ruining it. Bridges, trees, roadsides, really slow moving old people.

Where was I?
Oh, yeah.

I'm not dead. I'm here. I'm alive. What started out as writer's block ended up turning into an unintended bloggy break. Several of you emailed me to see if I was doing alright. I appreciate that. I even had some family and friends ask me if I'm OK. Yes, ma'am. I am.

Since I last posted, the following has happened.

Our dog Jessie was ill, well again, ill again, then well. Now she is a perfectly "normal" growing pup who likes to eat bugs and smells like dog exactly 5 seconds after her bath.

I turned 40. The Big One, Elizabeth. Other than the bad food at Red Lobster, it was uneventful.

I am growing out my bangs.

So, as you can see, you haven't missed much. However, I do pledge to keep on keeping on producing the same ole' drudgery about living in SmallTown and how much I miss Starbucks.

Like kudzu, I'm still around.

However, I promise not to choke out all of your evergreens. Or your Great Uncle Cleetus.

Blowing The Dust Off

2010-11-13T10:26:00.000-06:00

I nearly forgot my password to blogger. It's been that long.

Things got a little nuts around SmallTown. Our new pup ran a fever for a day, nearly scared us to death, and then ended up being perfectly fine. I think I lost a few brain cells and perhaps have a new bald spot, but other than that, we're good.

Other than near nervous breakdowns, other things have kept us busy.

This week we have worked on Daughter's science fair project. She has tested which microwave popcorn brand pops best. Our house smelled like popcorn for two days. I lit one of my fall candles and then it just smelled like pumpkin popcorn. That had burned. Badly.

Speaking of pumpkins, we carved one for Halloween, put it on the porch, and left it. A WEEK LATER I walked out the front door (which we never use) and saw our sad little pumpkin melting and molding away like a really bad science fair project. His crooked smile had turned to a painful frown and his eyes were weeping in ways that vegetables tend to do when they are left outside to decay for days and days.

I scooped him up, put him in a garbage bag, and respectfully tossed him in the trash. It was quite tragic. Then I bleached the porch. The smell of bleach is so welcoming when you enter a home.

As you can see, even though I haven't posted in a sweet forever, you haven't missed that much.

You're welcome.

Happy Weekend!

Test Test

2010-11-03T12:01:00.002-05:00

I'm still here.

It has been busy in SmallTown.

Will post as soon as I can catch my breath...

Puppies and Toddlers

2010-10-28T08:28:00.002-05:00

The highlight of our week has been our new puppy. She is about 7 months old, full of energy and very funny. Rescued from an abandoned field, she had been in foster care for some time and now has found her furever home with us. Daughter named her "Jessie" (from Toy Story) and it fits.

I'll post pictures later. Once I've figured out how to keep her still long enough.

As you can see, we've been quite busy.

Everyone says having a puppy is like having a baby, but I tend to disagree. Babies sleep all the time. You can put babies somewhere and they don't move. You can strap them in a car seat and watch them in your little mommy mirror. NOT PUPPIES.

No.

Puppies move. A lot. They jump on your head while you nap on the couch. They climb in your lap while you are driving, making you hope and pray that you won't have to hit the breaks or get pulled over by the cops because, hello, your passenger bites.

Nope. Puppies are nothing at all like babies. Puppies are more like toddlers.

Toddlers want to be everywhere all the time. They wake you up while you try to nap on the couch. They would love to climb out of the car seat while you drive, and believe you me, they try.

Like with toddlers, you teach your puppy the right way to behave and they try, only when it is in their best interest. Puppies sit or stay or lay down (maybe) if you give them a treat.

Toddlers stop screaming in Wal-mart if you bribe them with a Happy Meal.

Of course, this is only in the beginning of training. Eventually they do what you tell them because they want to please you. Until they become teenagers.

Puppies are learning where and when to go potty. Sometimes they go outside. Sometimes they go inside. They try not to have an accident on the carpet, but really, they don't care because someone else is going to clean it up.

Toddlers are in the potty-training phase. They want to please mama and daddy and they love to wear their new Disney character undies. But, really they don't care if they have an accident because someone else it going to clean it up.

And sometimes they go outside.

When a puppy suddenly gets quiet and disappears into the other room, you'd better put your coffee down and check on her. She is probably chewing your new shoes from Steinmart or eating something from the trash.

While you're on Facebook, your toddler tiptoes down the hall. You find her standing in your closet, wearing your new shoes from Steinmart while eating that half of a Hershey bar you thought you threw in the trash.

Let's face it. You spend half the day saying, "What a good girl," and the other half saying, "What did you do?"

Yes. Puppies and toddlers have a lot in common.

Puppies and toddlers are scared of strange noises. Like the dishwasher and Cookie Monster.

Puppies and toddlers have big bellies that are warm and usually smell like their last meal. Or something they rolled in.

Puppies and toddlers hate storms, firecrackers, and scary-looking people.

Puppies and toddlers are good judges of character.

They love children, ice cream, and warm blankets.

They can sleep wherever they land.

They throw up when they eat too many treats.

They love you unconditionally. They cuddle with you in the mornings, but just for a moment until they've moved on to something new.

Yes, puppies and toddlers are a lot alike. Before you know it, they are eating grown-up food and napping less, learning new things and exploring on their own. You turn around, and they are all grown up.

And, thank goodness, they finally stopped going on the carpet.

Is this thing still on?

2010-10-26T07:17:00.000-05:00

I think I may have broken a record for amount of time not posting. At least I accomplished something.

It has been a busy week for us. Not busy in that there is a lot of blog material, but busy in that I want to take lots of naps and watch old episodes of Andy Griffith.

I have some things to share, but in the meantime, I have to comment on The Amazing Race.

First, I am glad the Ivy League Singers are gone. I couldn't take all the singing. No one goes through life just bursting in song. That's just for TV and movies, which I guess they were kind of on, but it's a reality show, so hello.

I can't decide whether I like the home shopping team or not. On the one hand, I find their over-friendliness a bit inappropriate. I mean, who hugs a person in a foreign country after he purchased sunglasses? On the other hand, they can be funny.

I find myself both rooting for the father/son team and saying, "COME ON."

I was glad someone had to eat something weird. I have no idea why. It was just time.

Phil cracked me up with his eyebrow communication.

I hope they go to South America this time. It's been a while.

I find the lack of drama between teams this year (compared to last season) to be very refreshing.

That is all.

Weekend Wrap Up: That's it?

2010-10-18T11:48:00.000-05:00

Well, the weekend was about as bland as could be. Daughter is still not 100%, so our days were filled with episodes of Spongebob on the couch interrupted by trips to Wal-mart "just to get out of the house."

There is some sort of cough/sort throat combo going around and, unlike the corn dog/cherry limeade combo we get from Sonic, it is neither filling nor refreshing.

I'm about ready to be over this sickness thing. It's hard to see your kid cough up a lung. Last time I checked, those things are important.

I do have to thank you for all the FABULOUS pumpkin recipes you left in your comments. As soon as everyone's taste buds return to full capacity I am going to try them.

And thanks for understanding my prepositional grammar issues. Apparently, bloggers love to break grammar rules as long as they are on our own blogs.  Contrast that with the watchful editing we do on church bulletins and praise music screens, and you have what some literary folks call IRONY.

LOVE IT.

I AM ALSO NOW ADDICTED TO ALL CAPS.

I"LL STOP THAT NOW.

you are welcome

Speaking of church, we had to leave during the music yesterday. Daughter started to feel flushed and funny and in the mom world we know that's a sign of upcoming doom. Since the traditional baptist church decor does not normally provide Wal-mart bags or small trash cans for illness, we excused ourselves quietly. We managed to get home without incident and she was fine.  It was just one of those things, but why take the chance?

That reminds me, a friend of mine once told a story about a person fainting during the church service.  Her mama thought he was slain with the Spirit. As it turned out, he just had low blood sugar.

So, today I have a million errands to do (which could make good blogger fodder) and yet I sit and blog.

Again, irony.

The Break-up And My Grammar Issues

2010-10-15T09:32:00.001-05:00

Today I have a sick kid on the sofa, laundry in the chair, more on the floor of the closet (it spilleth over the basket) and a grocery list I haven't even written yet.

So, I will resort to my precious standby, THE LIST.

For some reason Blogger just tried to ask me to switch my font color. How weird.

1. The weather has been so fickle this week. One day it feels like fall, the next day summer. Sometimes it changes in the same day. Summer has begun to feel like an old boyfriend who just won't break up with you. Enough. I'll give you your letter jacket and your class ring back. It's time to move on.

2. I'm looking forward to Fashion Week on Project Runway.

3. Each week I say I'm going to stop writing so many sentences which begin with a preposition or a conjunction for effect.

But then I do it anyway.

And regret it when I edit.

But then leave it.

And then blog about my grammar issues.

I have many. I critique school flyers and store signs.

4. I am still amazed that the five of you (most of whom I'm related to- there goes that grammar) still read this stuff.

5. My porch is still without pumpkins. I have a bench out front with a fall leaf garland draped on it, so at least now the wreath has someone to talk to.

6. I've been craving Chile's Quesadilla Salad and Pei Wei. Chile's is down the road and Pei Wei is 2 hours away. That rhymed a little.

7. I am in the mood for some kind of pumpkin recipe this weekend. Any ideas?

Y'all have a great weekend!

Random Dozen: Aigner and Finch

2010-10-13T03:37:00.002-05:00

1. Is there a word which you initially mispronounced? Were the circumstances in which you made the faux pas embarrassing? By the way, that's not "foax pass." (I know you know that. Just jokin' with ya.)

I mispronounced Etienne Aigner in high school. I finally realized in college that my purse did not rhyme with "Abner."

2. How do you feel about the use of texting shortcuts and trends? (ex: "I've got ur notes. Get them 2 u 2morow.")

It depends on who I am texting and if I am trying to save space. Hubs doesn't mind. In fact, he has his own abbreviations.

We all know how that turned out.

3. Tell me about your high school senior picture. Please feel free to post.

I wasn't thrilled with the ones from school. Most of us had senior pictures that we ordered made at Olan Mills or somewhere else. The ones at school were poor quality.

I remember taking my picture at Olan Mills and planning how I'd do my hair, and picking out which gold chain I would wear with a sweater that had shoulder pads.

5. Share a high school or college homecoming memory.

I didn't go to high school or college homecoming. No dates for high school and college wasn't a big deal for our school. I really don't regret missing either of them.

6. Linda at Mocha with Linda wants to know: "Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?"

Sunsets. I would have to get up early enough to see a sunrise. The only time I've done that on purpose was for Easter. (Worth it.) Otherwise, give me a sunset on the beach while eating crab legs or gulf shrimp. Ahhh...

7. Lea at Cici's Corner asks, "What is something you have not done that you desire to do?"

Hmmmm... I have to reach deep down in my not-adventurous self. This one is tough for me. I would like to go sailing at some point. Preferably, with the shore in sight.

8. Carol at Wanderings of an Elusive Mind ponders, "If you could come back [in another life] as an animal, which would it be?"

I'd have to say a household cat. That's the life.

9. Joyce from The Other Side of the Pond is curious: "Where were you 10 years ago?" Please feel free to elaborate more than just your physical location.

Geographically, I was in North Carolina. Figuratively, I was a new mom whose best friend and support had just moved. I discovered a lot about the real meaning of life and priorities. I also learned that I don't like East Carolina BBQ.

10. When you are proven to be correct in any contentious discussion, do you gloat?

I try not to. If it's Hubs, I rub it in just to be annoying.

11. What is your favorite food which includes the ingredient "caramel?"

I am not a fan of caramel, but I would have to go with caramel cake. Preferably from Dean's Cakes in Andalusia, Alabama.

12. From my 17 year-old daughter to you: "If you could be part of any fictional family, which family would you choose and why?" (She's so cute. And clever.)

This is one of the best questions in all the Randoms!

The Finch family from To Kill A Mockingbird. Scout witnessed so much change and pain and her father stood up for justice. She was smart, thoughtful, and free spirited. That kind of legacy and history would be incredible to pass along. I wonder what Scout would have become when she grew up.

Thanks, Lid and Friends (and Family!) for the great Random this week!

Funny Link, A New Favorite

2010-10-12T10:46:00.000-05:00

Oh, the wittiness.

Oh, the sarcasm.

Grab your favorite catalog and have a laugh at Catalog Living.

Someone would have found America anyway.

2010-10-11T11:48:00.063-05:00

Over 500 years ago, the king and queen of Spain sent Christopher Columbus (an Italian) on an all-expenses paid trip to Asia. In his quest for spices and treasures, he discovered America, but, technically he discovered what we now call The Caribbean.

Ironic, since I sit here typing this in the high plains of New Mexico instead of on a beach in The Bahamas.

Oh, those Spaniards and Italians and their twisted sense of humor. The least Chris could have done was send me an Olive Garden.

But that's all I'm going to say about that.

Our weekend has been pretty boring. Friday was a day off of school. Daughter and I both slept late, then got dressed for a walk. Along the way, she found some interesting items for the Odd Objects Jar, an old plastic gumball jar she and her friend, C. found. They put odd items in it like bolts and grass and weeds and bottle caps. On Friday, she found a huge straw on the side of the road. Not the Sonic Route 44 kind, but much bigger. This was the Golden Egg of odd objects.

On Saturday, after all my chores were halfway done, I went to Hobby Lobby and managed to walk out with less than a $20 purchase. I had the car washed, and then came home to get ready for a baby shower.

The shower was for a sweet young woman from Bible study. Nancy and I went to the shower together and it was one of the nicest showers I've attended. The hostesses were so gracious and the food was delicious. I have a sneaky suspicion that at least one of the hostesses is Southern, as evidenced by the deviled eggs, pretty tablecloth and dishes.

Not that non-Southerners don't own pretty tablecloths and dishes and know how to make deviled eggs. What are the odds of combining all three?

The hostesses also displayed the cutest little decoration that I am totally going to steal if I ever host a baby shower again. (It doesn't look like any of my friends will be having a baby at our age, so I'll wait until one of them has a grandchild in about 15 years.)

Along the wall, the hostesses had created a little clothesline with coordinating onesies. It was so sweet and simple and who would guess that a decoration could also double as a gift for the mom-to-be?! Genius!

It's here that I'll skip right to Sunday, because I pretty much came home after the shower and went to bed. Nancy kept me out until the late, late hour of 8:00 PM.

Daughter and I stayed home from church because we both had a cough and sore throat. (Not the same cough or throat, for you grammar snobs out there. Wink.)

Hers was worse than mine, so I managed to spend the day in yoga pants refilling drink glasses and coaxing down Children's Motrin. Hubs went to the store for us and got all of the ingredients for Paula's chicken noodle soup. (It was yummy!)

Today I feel a bit better, but Daughter is still not 100%. Drat, those allergies. So, it looks like she'll miss out on all the Columbus Day events which we really don't have, but still.

However, if Columbus had brought over that Olive Garden, I could be enjoying an endless pasta bowl. Instead, I'm looking out my window at grasslands and cows with that grade school rhyme about the ocean blue in my head.

Rub it in.

More Stuff I Don't Understand: Edition Who Knows?

2010-10-07T11:04:00.000-05:00

1. If you are posting a puppy in need of a home on PetFinder, why would you name him "Killer?"

I'm no expert, but I am guessing a name like Snuggles or Champ would be better at attracting potential furever homes.

But, that's just me.

2. Why are all the late nite commercials about weight loss, vacuum cleaners, and acne products? Shouldn't they be advertising insomnia treatments?

3. Whenever someone gets voted off Dancing With The Stars or some other talent reality show, why do they perform one more time on the morning talk shows? If we wanted to keep watching them, they would not have been voted off in the first place.

And, yes, I realize sometimes the judges vote them off. Just go with me here.

4. Why does the person who won't obey the car line rules always have to be in the front of the line?

5. Why does the lady in the Chico's catalog always look put together, but when I put on the very same outfit, I look like I'm going to a costume party?

6. Why is it that when I tell Hubs that Old Navy clothes don't fit me, he asks if I tried on the right size? It's the cut, folks.

7. Why is it that for a man's clothes to fit, he only needs to choose the right waist size, inseam and whether or not they are a medium or large?

For a woman's clothes to fit, she needs to decide on boot cut, straight leg, tapered leg, fitted, regular, if it's sized small or big, what brand, what store, and if Jupiter is aligned with Venus.

And then it still looks different when we get home.

If you'll excuse me, I have to look at my new Chico's catalog...

We could use the air mattress for a flotation device.

2010-10-04T09:34:00.000-05:00

Is it just me or is Blogger all wonky this morning?

Now that I have that out of the way, I'll tell you about our weekend. This is the kind of post you can read during a commercial break, because, our weekend? Boring.

I should say, MY weekend. Boring.

Friday I took Daughter to horseback riding. She always loves it and I always love sitting on the bleachers talking to her instructor. After that, we went to Dairy Queen (her new fav) where she got her usual order of a burger and blizzard and I was good and got nothing.

On Saturday (I know what you're thinking, if this is going to go day-by-day, I may have to just watch the commercials) Hubs and Daughter went Geocaching.  I've decided that geocaching is what Barbie does with the stuff that didn't sell at her garage sale.

After finding Barbie's old furniture from her Dream House, Hubs and Daughter went to Wally World for camping supplies. They put the s'mores ingredients and hot dogs away and set up the tent.

I don't camp.  If there were a camper with a cot or a bed, I'd be all for it. However, the tent thing is a little too Les Stroud for me.

I am aware that Les would not have a tent.  He'd make do with branches and leaves and such but this is the high plains, and we don't have branches and leaves and such. Besides, he always uses what's available to him. In this case, that's a tent.

But I digress.

I joined them for dinner in the tent, then I came inside and watched poor quality television.

I told Hubs that I think they should get a camper one day, the kind you pull behind the car. He said that wasn't camping. Then I asked him where you hang out during the day if you camp more than one night. (I mean, there's only so many s'mores you can make, right?) He told me you do whatever it is you do that's around the campsite, like fishing or swimming in a lake.

He never got to the part about when I would be in the camper lounging on a cot or turning on air conditioning, so I'm still lost on the whole camping thing.

Yesterday morning he and Daughter got up for church. I was under the weather and stayed home. You'd think they would be under the weather since they were the ones sleeping outside, but no. It was me. That fluffy Pottery Barn comforter really knocked me off my feet.

At some point yesterday afternoon I bought some groceries. After nearly $200, we have barely enough for 2 meals, so I'll be back later this week.

That was pretty much the highlight of my weekend.

However, it runs a close second to Hubs cooking dinner on Saturday night. Hot dogs and baked beans always taste better when someone else cooks them.

Even if I wasn't eating them at a cheaply made table/sofa/cot in a camper.

P.S. The s'mores were made in the oven. As I said, this is the high plains. Campfires, dry grass, and high winds? Almost as scary as sleeping in a tent.

Random Dozen: Aliens, Art, and Lattes

2010-09-29T08:21:00.000-05:00

1. Do you believe, somewhere deep inside, that blondes do indeed have more fun? That they are "dumber" than brunettes or redheads? Be honest!

I am not a natural blonde. These days, I'm not even a natural brunette. I do go blonde for a reason. It makes me feel better. Dr. Phil can add whatever meaning he'd like to that.
As for being dumber, no way. Unless they can prove that the peroxide actually seeps into our brains and kills off the cells.

2. Which animal would you most like to observe in its wild habitat?
I'm a mom and wife. I already live in a wild habitat.

Seriously- Any kind of sea life. Dolphins are my favorite. I'd also love to watch sea turtles hatch.

3. This week the U.N. announced that Dr. Mazlan Othman has been appointed the official "Alien Ambassador," should any extraterrestrials contact us. Have you, or has anyone you know, ever seen a UFO?

I saw something in Tucson once that was very odd. A bright light hovered over, then flew off very quickly. I am sure it was a helicopter, but don't tell Mulder.

4. Name your favorite Hitchcock film.

Rear Window. I can watch it over and over, but it has to be in the dark.

5. Would you rather spend time at the library, the mall, a craft store or home?

Oh, Lid. I had to chuckle about the library.

If I'm in a creative mood, the craft store. If not, then home.

6. Which Disney princess is your favorite? (Or Disney character, if you are a guy)

Cinderella was always my favorite. I felt sorry for her, even as a child. I was more happy for her that she was able to go to the dance and look nice than because she actually found her prince. I also love that the mice and birds loved her.

7. What kind of art is your favorite?

Nancy's :)

Also, Mary Cassatt, Renoir, and Winslow Homer

8. How do you feel about viral videos, that is, videos made by amateurs that end up on YouTube receiving thousands of hits?

Honestly, it is a bit disturbing to me. It is an example of how quickly anything put on the Internet can spread. That's now always a good thing.

9. Where do you buy your jeans?

I now like Chico's. Not Your Daughter's is pretty good, too. (Pricey.) Most of my other jeans are just department store generics.

10. Tell me about your first automobile accident.

I rear-ended another car because there was a school bus stopped ahead of us. The car in front of me slowed down, sped up, then slowed down again. I hit him. He was fine. Me? Not so much. This was before air bags were as safe as they are now. I am short and was too close to the steering wheel. I had a bruise on my sternum, a busted lip, and powder burns on my chin. I passed out for a second. Fortunately for all of us, air bags are better programmed for short people and we are all safer because of them.

11. Have you ever been honest when you knew you would benefit more if you would be dishonest?

I am known to be brutally honest. Kind of like Neal Boorz- the only one who will call the baby ugly. I may be the only one to say it, but most of the time everyone else is thinking it. If something truly doesn't need to be said, I won't lie. I just don't say a word.

12. If you were appointed "Ambassador to Aliens," what would you show and tell first about life on Earth? What would be the most difficult thing to explain?

First, we'd go to Starbucks and I'd explain the difference between a skinny and a non-fat and that, yes, you can taste the difference. I'd talk him into getting the venti and then we would head to Target. I'd teach him how to find bargains and to always scout for the 90% off sale. When we were done, I would take him to a nails salon where he can watch a lady paint another lady's toes (in wonderment.)

As for explanations, I can't say it any better than Jerry Seinfeld-

"Dogs are the leaders of the planet. If you see two life forms, one of them's making a poop, the other one's carrying it for him, who would you assume is in charge?" — Jerry Seinfeld

Thanks to the Girls for Lid's awesome questions this week!

Sometimes crazy is entertaining.

2010-09-27T00:54:00.001-05:00

I'm starting to think the house is bugged.

Just the other day I told Hubs that what we really needed was a new season of The Amazing Race. Yep, that's what we needed. I've gone far too long without hearing someone complain about weird food or sleep deprivation. I miss seeing a prima donna contestant spar with a rough and tough tomboy.

So, you can imagine my surprise when I turned on the television and saw Phil raise his eyebrow once again as he described the first challenge for Season 17.

I was so tickled that I wanted to call Susanne and share my joy, but I don't have her number and she also LIVES IN CANADA.

That's a whole 'nother country.

The first few episodes of The Race are usually snoozeville for me. It takes a sweet forever for each team to get through the legs and challenges and, because there are so many teams, it is hard for me to keep them straight. I'm such an intellectual.

I always feel sorry for the first team eliminated. I want to run up to that pit stop rug that looks like the rubber mat at Winn Dixie's automatic doors and just hug them. Don't you? I want to hug them for trying and going all that way, only to be eliminated the first episode.

Okay, to be honest, I want to ask them how they kept from falling apart on national television because they were completely embarrassed to be the first team to go home.

After week 3 or 4, I begin to connect with a team or two. There is usually at least one team that gets on my nerves and one that I start rooting for.

The two teams that stood out to me tonight? The Singers and the Beauty Queen.

I can already tell the singers are going to get on my nerves. No normal person goes through life singing. The beauty queen just intrigues me. Each time a beauty queen is on I want to see how she will keep her make-up on the whole time and if she can keep the height on her hair. I'm nothing if not shallow.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to start looking under all of the lampshades for surveillance devices.

Tap. Tap.

Are you there, CBS?

Tell Phil I said, "Hi."

Eight Questions, Answers.

2010-09-24T10:28:00.003-05:00

Susanne tagged me for a meme, so here goes. (Great questions, Susanne!)

1. What is your greatest joy?
Deep- Salvation in Christ, my family
Not-so-deep- A non-fat mocha, add the whip, after a day of Christmas shopping

2. What do you do when you're bored?
I would love to say run around the block or read, but then I'd be lying. I usually turn on the television or the computer and surf. Then I turn into a vegetable.

3. Are you a sweet or salty snacker?
Depends. Sometimes I crave sweet, sometimes salty. My favorite salty indulgence is hummus with warm pita bread. My favorite sweet is Reese's miniatures!

4. Beach or mountains?
Beach. No competition there for me. I like everything about it, sounds, sights, smells, feeling of sand on my toes. Sigh...
(But I do love the Smokies and Blue Ridge Mountains in the Fall!)

5. Favorite things on a burger.
I like a good mushroom Swiss burger if in a restaurant. If at home, I like lettuce, tomato, sweet pickle, onion, mayo and ketchup. The messier, the better. (Great home fries make it even better!)

6. Would you rather have someone else do your laundry, clean your house or do your yard work?
I don't really want someone to do any of my housework, unless it is Hubs and Daughter helping out. Having someone do the yard work would be fine. They can also landscape it while they are at it!

7. Are you a one book at a time person or have many on the go at once?
One book at a time. I need to find a new one to start. Any suggestions??

8. Favorite scripture or quote.
"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me". Erma Bombeck

Thanks for the meme, Susanne!

Have a great weekend!

A Must Read For Anyone Who Knows A Child

2010-09-23T09:39:00.000-05:00

Roxanne is not just a great blogger. She's a great teacher.

Her post, And when we screw up... gives insight to the reading challenges some kids face every day. I learned so much from her writing.

Take a moment to read it and see if you recognize anything she describes in a kid you know.

What I've Learned From Judge Judy

2010-09-21T21:24:00.000-05:00

It's no secret that I love watching Judge Judy. The show is my guilty pleasure and I have been known to DVR the ending as I run off to pick up Daughter from school.

I am very refined. Ahem.

So, as a public service to you I thought I'd share what I have learned from her.

May you never face her. If you do, don't say you weren't prepared.

1. Almost every case comes down to whether it was a loan or a gift.

2. If you don't intend to pay someone back, and you've said you would, don't bother going to Judge Judy. She will nip that case in the bud quicker than her bailiff swore you in.

3. If you have a pit bull, ask yourself, "why?"

4. Keep your dog on your property, on a leash. No excuses. None. And if it's a pit bull, again, "WHY?"

5. Keep receipts, email records, police reports, medical bills, and anything else that will corroborate your story.

6.  Look up corroborate.

7. Don't tell Judge Judy what you feel, what others feel, what someone told someone else or anything else that is fuzzy. She doesn't like that. At all.

8. She used to be a family court judge. She knows what loser husbands, whiny wives, and delinquent kids look and sound like. She likes them almost as much as she likes pit bulls.

9. When she calls you "Madam" it usually isn't a good thing.

10. Most of the time she doesn't care about your pain and suffering claim. I know that sounds harsh, but get over it.

11. She makes Judge Wapner look like Santa Claus.

12. She will correct your grammar while you are in the middle of a sentence.

I think she's my hero.

Daniel-san, do not let jogging stroller intimidate you.

2010-09-20T10:28:00.001-05:00

Right now I am surrounded by folded clothes, an ironing board, iron, and the delightful scents of ironing and pumpkin butter. Hubs was ironing his clothes for work (hey, I ain't Martha Stewart) and watching FoxNews. I love the smell of ironing. And, no he didn't have a stain of pumpkin butter on his shirt. That smell came from the new candle I put out last night.

It's by Woodwick, called Trilogy, and I highly recommend it. It starts out with pumpkin butter, then golden chestnut, and finishes with spiced toffee. So far the pumpkin butter has me hooked. I'll let you know about the rest.

I spent yesterday afternoon decorating the house for fall. Never mind that it's 95 degrees outside. I am ready for fall. It was a cruel summer, like it was for Ralph Macchio and Elisabeth Shue before she went to Vegas and ruined her life. (Oh, that's right. That was another movie.)

I still have to get pumpkins and do something with our entryway. Right now the front door has a sad, lonely wreath on it. I hear it in the night crying, "Please find me some cute gourd friends to talk to. I need to be accessorized!"

I hear you, Hobby Lobby Half Off Wreath. I hear you.

On Saturday I participated in a 5K Walk/Run to benefit the Missing GRACE Foundation. The foundation offers support to families who have lost a child through stillbirth, miscarriage, or early death. A sweet friend of mine lost a child to stillbirth and I decided to walk in her son's honor.

If you haven't already guessed, I was in the walking group.

I don't run unless something is chasing me. I've always wanted to be a runner. Okay, I've always wanted to LOOK like a runner, which would be great except for all the, you know, running. Runners are long and lean and they look like they can do anything, other than maybe lift a car or something, which is obviously something I can do.

Obviously.

Do you know what's more humbling than being in the walking group among runners? Being in the walking group among runners who are pushing strollers. Uphill. Yes, there were people running and pushing their kids uphill both ways in the snow while I was only walking and wishing the blister on my heel would stop hurting already.

This is where I start to mire in self-pity but we all know that isn't productive or good blog material, so instead I'll just tell you that I did manage to stay ahead of the walkers who were pushing strollers. That was my goal. Forget times and paces and such..

The little engine had, "I think I can."

I chanted, "I am going to beat that nursing mom with twins, three dogs, and the huge stroller."

I take any inspiration I can get.

Where's Mr. Miyagi when you need him?

Friday's Fave Five: Loss, Love, and Television

2010-09-17T12:11:00.000-05:00

1. Friends (both in person and in the blogosphere) who offer prayers and support. Your comments about our Annabelle touched my heart.

2. The impact of loss. I know this sounds odd, but sometimes I believe God puts hardships and loss in our lives to remind us of how precious life and love is. We are here on this earth but a fleeting moment. We need to make that moment count.

3. On a less serious note, I am in love with my new K-cup coffee maker. Not a love like you I have for my child children where I will pick up it's socks, but more of a love like I have for Target's 90% off sales where I look forward to it and savor every minute of it.

4. The People's Court and Judge Judy. I live vicariously through their sarcasm and desire for justice. Also, I really wish I had a gavel.

5. Walking with friends. I am enjoying the morning walks with some awesome moms. Let's keep it up ladies! Can't wait to see what we'll do when it starts to snow! LOL

Join Susanne for more great Faves this week. Have an awesome weekend!

Save One: A Homeless Pup's Story

2010-09-15T11:04:00.002-05:00

Our Annabelle had a tough life before she came to us.

She was seen running the neighborhood for a long time. A good Samaritan finally caught her and her companion, a pregnant poodle. She was covered in ticks and fleas, her fur was a mess, she had a runny nose, and had probably never tasted real food before.

She hadn't even celebrated her first birthday.

Fortunately for her and her poodle friend, there are people who love the helpless ones in society, people who care for those who can't care for themselves. They took her in, gave her much needed veterinarian care, and loved her more than she had been loved since she was born.

We met her Friday at the foster mom's home. I could see from Annabelle's reaction to her, that this sweet lady had really taken care of this puppy. Annabelle wagged her tail at her and gave her kisses.

Mrs. P. had packed her a little bag to go home with us, just like a mom would do when she sends her kid off to Grandma's.

Inside her packed bag were Annabelle's leash, supplements, comfort items for her nose and eyes, a pink, soft blanket and specially prepared food of lean ground beef and rice (a gourmet meal for a pup with a sensitive tummy.) Mrs. P. had written out careful instructions including what she ate, how often to feed her, what she liked, and that she was a good cuddler. I knew from all the instructions and careful packing, Mrs. P. loved her as much as any human mom could. (You have no idea how grateful I am for that.)

The rescue volunteer took our picture with Annabelle on Mrs. P.'s porch. Then Daughter and I loaded her and her specially packed bag in the car and drove her home.

As soon as she was home with us, she found the sofa. I kept thinking that, after so many months of sleeping only God knows where, it must be nice to have a soft place to land. She was able to sleep well at Mrs. P.'s home and now ours.

So our life with Annabelle began. I warmed Mrs. P's special gourmet meal for her, followed her instructions, and we all loved her and spoiled her as she deserved.  She had a leftover stuffy nose and the rescue folks thought it just needed more antibiotics or allergy medications.  They asked if we wanted to wait to take her home, but in my heart I knew she was supposed to come home with us on Friday.

On Monday I scheduled a new puppy appointment with our vet. I wanted him to meet her and check her out and see if he could do something new for her runny nose. He examined her, treated her with antibiotics and gave her allergy medication. We scheduled a follow-up visit in a week.

Yesterday she was not well.  She screamed when we tried to pick her up, she yelped when we tried to move her. I knew something was wrong and she was in pain.

We took her back to the vet and, after blood work and other tests, he determined that she had distemper.

Distemper is a horrible disease. Seizures eventually set in, causing pain and loss of bodily functions. The pain she was experiencing from us holding her was a sign that her brain was sending the wrong signals. What should be a normal, pleasant touch was painful to Annabelle. Any treatment our vet would have given had a slim chance of saving her life. If she lived, she could have permanent neurological damage, leaving her possibly like a vegetable.

After many tears, Daughter and I said goodbye to Annabelle yesterday afternoon.

We talked to her and loved her. We pet her gently so as not to cause her pain. Our vet allowed us to stay with her as long as we needed.   As she disappeared to the back room in the technician's arms, we said goodbye. We saw her for the last time as the puppy we loved, still with life in her eyes and a sweetness on her face.

So, other than to tell you about my life, why am I sharing this with you? I can tell you it's not to make you cry or to discourage you from rescuing an animal. No, quite the opposite.

Annabelle's story needs to be told.

Her story is a painful reminder of what is happening to animals in our society. They need homes. They need vaccinations early.  Annabelle was vaccinated by the rescue organization. It was just too late for her. She had most likely contracted the disease before they found her. She was kept in foster care long enough for most symptoms of illness to show.

Although they didn't save her life, the rescue volunteers were able to make her last days wonderful. We were able to make her death a peaceful one. Death from distemper is violent and painful. I can't imagine what Annabelle would have suffered if she'd been left on the streets.

After a lot of crying, I have to tell you that anger pushes through all my tears. Annabelle's hope for survival should have begun the day she was born. Instead, she was tossed to the streets like garbage, left to starve, covered in parasites, and fighting for life.

I'm angry that people dump dogs and cats on the street. I'm angry that they are euthanized because of sickness, or worse- because no one wants them.  What does this say about us?

But I am also grateful for those who give these creatures a chance, the rescue organizations, the Mrs. P.'s and the children in the world who let their hearts lead them to these wonderful animals. As painful as it is for all of them to say goodbye to a sweet puppy, like our Annabelle, their courage and compassion make a huge difference in a small, precious life.

Please don't let Annabelle's story discourage you from saving one of those lives. Let it inspire you to save just one.

Or at least to try.

"Never, never be afraid to do what's right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society's punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way."

— Martin Luther King Jr.

Home Is Where They Love You

2010-09-13T10:04:00.000-05:00

If I have grammatical errors this morning, I apologize. It is hard to see my "theirs" and "theres" due to my sleepy, blurred vision. We have a new puppy.

The thing about puppies is they have bladders the size of a gnat, much like their attention span. But they also have hearts the size of Lake Michigan, so I can't complain.

We met her on Friday. She's a sweet poodle/terrier mix who was rescued from the streets by a great foster program. Her foster mom gave her a lot of love and for that, we are grateful.

Strays don't come with papers or a family tree, so your guess about her history is as good as mine. From the looks of her sweet face, I can tell she's glad that she's home.

And so are we.

Welcome to your furever home, Annabelle!

Remembering 9-11

2010-09-11T08:48:00.000-05:00

"What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly:

it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.

Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods;

and it would be strange indeed

if so celestial an article as FREEDOM

should not be highly rated." Thomas Paine

On A Different Note

2010-09-10T00:12:00.001-05:00

The thing about Random Dozens and memes of the sort is that sometimes we inadvertently reveal something about ourselves that we otherwise would keep hidden. Sometimes it is a huge character flaw. Sometimes it is an embarrassing situation. And sometimes it's both.

Yanni.

Somehow, in the midst of my meme madness last week, I admitted that Yanni was the last concert I attended. I realized that this was uncool, but I had no idea how uncool it was until a few of you commented and/or emailed me. Apparently, I'm not hip.

This, or course, came as a complete shock to me.

Cough. Cough.

Now that the cat is out of the bag, or the pink, dorky elephant is in the room, as it were, I have to explain my Yanni fondness.

Way back in the day, in the mid-nineties, when Meg Ryan still looked cute and everyone thought she was married to Tom Hanks, I loved Yanni. I had all of his CD's, including the "Best Of" collection. Yes, m'am, I loved him almost as much as Linda Evans.

We were living near Pensacola at the time, and what would you know? Yanni was coming to town. Right around my birthday. It was fate.

I asked Hubs if we could go and because he loves me dearly and has some sort of issues, he agreed to take me to the Yanni concert for my birthday. At the time, he was working in a place which was primarily men. Somehow word got out that he was taking me to the Yanni concert. Yanni and red-blooded, American men go together like Al Gore and SUV's.

One day at work, someone announced on the intercom, "Hubs (only they called him by his real name), please come to the front desk and pick up your Yanni tickets."

Needless to say, the ribbing and teasing began, but Hubs took it like a man and also took me to the concert, like a man. I absolutely loved it and he managed to sit through the entire performance without his ears bleeding. To this day, I know it is one of the greatest expressions of love he's ever shown. Well, that, and the time he sat up with me at the ER while I pewked my guts out.

If you ask him, I'm sure he'd tell you there really wasn't much difference between the two.

As for me, I still secretly love to pop in a Yanni CD when I'm feeling especially uncool. Linda has since moved on, but I'm still a fan.

For the record, I do not like Barry Manilow. I may be a Yanni geek, but let's not get crazy!

Please take this all down, Miss Hathaway.

2010-09-09T11:20:00.002-05:00

I woke up this morning, got coffee, fixed breakfast, rushed Daughter off to school, kissed Hubs good-bye, and sat down to catch up on emails and such. I found a nice, sweet note from Nancy warning me to update my blog or else I was banned from the walking moms group.

She's such a doll.

Seriously, she's one of my BFF's and is only motivating me to do what she knows I love best- write.

I'd do the same for her. So, Nanc, if I learn you let a week go by without painting or printing or otherwise exercising your creative genius, I will ban you from the walking group and/or from all those peanuts we're going to boil when the peanut crop is in. Nuff said.

The truth is that I have at least five posts saved in archives that need tweaking or editing or whathaveyou. At some point, you look at a post and think, "Ehhh... that's old now. What's the point?"

Eventually, I just start all over with a new post, which in this case, begins with a threat from one of my best friends.

Insert Transitional Paragraph Here.

Last weekend we went to Amarillo, or as we like to call it, Town.

Daughter needed some school clothes as we have out shopped SmallTown. Half of her class is wearing the same Dillard tops and Wal-Mart socks, resulting in what could be the new school uniform. We have never cared about looking a certain way or being fashionable, but when you have purchased nearly every single top or jeans at the local department stores, it's time to go out of town.  .

On our way, we passed through Hereford. Hereford has like 1000 cows per person or something, so every time we drive through I have to hold my nose. Hubs told me then I'd have to breathe it in through my mouth, an ugly, yet less smelly choice.

On this trip we pulled over to take pictures of all the cattle to share with family back home.  Hubs pulled to the side of the road, opened the sun roof, and stood in the seat to take a photo. All the while I was yelling for him to hurry up because the flies kept coming in the car.  He eventually took a panoramic, so as to include all the bovine, and I still haven't checked to see if it turned out.

When we arrived in Amarillo, we went straight to PetSmart.  We have been looking for a dog since we lost Maggie, and PetSmart was hosting an adoption event. Well, we thought they were hosting one. When we got there, a sign was posted at the adoption area announcing that the local shelter would not be bringing any dogs that day. So we all piled back in the car and drove to the shelter. We didn't find a dog, but we did get to play with a few pups.

The rest of the afternoon was spent finding Daughter some clothes from stores other than Dillard and Wal-mart.  Note to Justice-  Please offer espresso for moms. The two hour dressing room event would be much more tolerable.

After a very successful cool school clothes shopping marathon, we all went to World Market. The foods and kitchen items and colorful decor tickled my poor deprived SmallTown self. I felt the same way Granny did when she saw the cement pond. Only Granny didn't buy Italian soda and olives.

Our other adventure included a visit to Cadillac Ranch, the place where some artists buried cars in the ground and now tourists freely spray paint messages and smiley faces. It's the first time I have actually done any graffiti, partly because it was completely allowed.  For some of you, I know that totally takes the fun out of it.

Before we headed home, we went for a late lunch, dinner (or linner, as we call it) at Red Robin. The mushroom burger? YUM!

So that was the weekend we went to town.  Stinky cows, shelter dogs, school clothes shopping, yummy food, and a moment with some great artistic Americana.

It was big fun or as Jed would say, "Whewwww, Doggie!"

Lid's Random Dozen: Interpretation Of Dreams And Creepy Bug Question

2010-09-01T08:27:00.042-05:00

1. What insect are you most afraid of? Feel free to post a picture.
New Mexico fire ant. I was bitten/stung a few weeks ago and it felt like a knife went through my skin. OUCH! These cowboy fire ants are much tougher than the Georgia redneck ones I grew up with. Mr. Bug man came and made them go away. (That's my nice way of saying he obliterated them.)

There are insects in the rainforest that make me freak out a little, but I won't list them here since I don't think I'll ever be in the rainforest.

2. What is the greenest/most organic thing about you or that you do?
The greenest would be when I ride the rides at the fair... oh, that was bad.

Seriously, we drink organic dairy. I started out choosing organic dairy to avoid the hormones in our diet, but now I also just love the taste. And organic sour cream? Oh, you'll want more than a dollop!

3. Tell me about a recurring dream that haunts you.
OK, Lid. What is this? The therapy edition of Random? First my scariest bug and now my dreams?
I don't have any recurring dreams anymore. However, it always bothers me when I dream about something bad happening to someone I know. I always want to call them up and warn them. I don't think I'm being given any message or anything- just makes you think.

4. Have you ever missed a flight? What were the circumstances?
No, but I've come really close. On our trip this summer our first flight took off late and we had about 10 minutes to get to the next one. Lucky us, the second flight was delayed for maintenance. This was the first time I was glad the plane had maintenance issues.

5. What do you consider your best feature?
Physical- Eyes
Other- I really like to encourage and help people.

6. What was the last concert you went to?
Ummm... Yanni. In 1997

7. Describe the most embarrassing church moment you ever experienced.
I was about 12 years old. I sang a duet with a friend. My friend missed her notes and at the end, she stood there in front of everyone and did the "gun to your head" gesture with her finger. The congregation laughed, but I'm pretty sure that's a prime example of "quenching the Spirit."

8. Are you a whistler, hummer or singer?
Singer, unless Andy Griffith is coming on.

9. George Washington Carver said, "I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us every hour, if we will only tune in." What is God saying to you through nature today, or this very minute?
God is saying, "Ragweed is an example of my mystery."
No really, nature always reminds me that things smaller than me and larger than me go on with their lives without my knowledge or involvement. Just watch a Live Oak weather a storm or a fire ant make an ant hill. All of God's Creation is important to Him and in His control.

10. On September, 1, 1752, the Liberty Bell arrived in Philadelphia. What memorable event will take place in your life on September 1, 2010?
I will post the Random Dozen before noon.

11. Taco Bell or the Liberty Bell? (You must choose.)
The Liberty Bell. I am a patriotic mess.
Although, I really should choose Taco Bell. That story later...

12. Do you believe men and women can have purely platonic friendships?
Not a close one. I know a lot of people disagree, but I have seen that usually at least one or the other begins to have feelings beyond friendship, even if the other does not share those feelings. This may come as a shock to you, since I am always quoting Jerry and Elaine. But, HELLO, that's a TV show.

Visit Linda for more randoms. Her Random rocked this week, even with all the creepy bug questions. ;)

Showdown

2010-08-27T10:59:00.002-05:00

I just got back from our moms morning walk. A few of us are walking after we drop the kids off at school. So far, we usually walk close to 3 miles each time, with a goal of three days a week. I walked only two days this week, but next week I'm in for all three.

That last paragraph was a lot of rambling and numbers and poor grammar. Please don't judge me. My feet are still tingling from the exercise. Apparently, an increased heart rate leads to decreased brain activity.

Anyhoo.

The walking has been great. I'm getting to spend time with old friends and get to know some new ones.   I take Daughter to school, then come home and throw on some old yoga pants and t-shirt and put my hair in a clippy.

We meet each other on a designated corner. This morning I arrived a bit earlier than the rest of the team. I was all proud of myself until every car going by kept looking my way. I told the other ladies if I am going to start standing on corners, maybe I should start dressing a little better. Ahem.

Now it's only 9:30 and I have the rest of my day to clean, do laundry, run errands, and watch Price Is Right.

May I just add that, although Drew Carey is no Bob Barker, I think he is doing a fabulous job. I keep wishing he'd launch into his old sitcom theme song and scream out, "Ohio!" But, other than that, bless his heart, he has a tough act to follow.

Yesterday Hubs went to work late and we watched Price Is Right together. I realize most couples do not spend their dates together while listening to the sounds of Plinko, but I'll take what I can get.  Price Is Right is such an American experience.  If there were one show I'd like to attend, that would be it. I spent summers watching Bob Barker give away showcases of Chevrolets and trips to Paris.

Every kid in the 70's could tell you the going price of corn or if Bounce dryer sheets and Metamucil added up to a total of over $10.00.  We also knew that the most important lesson in life is to spay or neuter your pets. Granted, we had no idea what that was, but it was the last thing we heard as the showcase winner's family members rushed on stage to climb in the winner's aqua blue Chevette.

The sad thing is that now I know exactly how much dryer sheets and Metamucil cost and it has nothing to do with watching Bob or Drew.

Maybe I should go on the show. I'll be the winner sitting in the PT Cruiser.

Just look out for my crazy family members rushing on stage.

Random Dozen: Because people like to say "salsa."

2010-08-25T00:58:00.001-05:00

1. What is your favorite Mexican dish?
Really good chicken chimichangas. Close second- Tamale
I like nearly anything from a good Mexican restaurant. I judge Mexican restaurants by their salsa. If the salsa is good, pretty much everything else on the menu will be good. Hubs judges them by their guacamole- the simpler, the better. Okay, who wants tacos for dinner?

2. When you were a kid, did you get started on your homework right away after school, or did you procrastinate?
In elementary school, I don't remember having much homework. I spent the afternoon eating Little Debbie cakes and watching I Love Lucy re-runs. In middle school and high school, I procrastinated as long as possible.

3. What is your favorite store for home furnishings?
Ballard Designs. Most of the time I "catalog" shop and then look for something similar somewhere else for less. Sorry, Ballard. You're not within my price point.

4. When you were young, did you like school lunches?
I liked elementary lunches. Once Middle school hit, the lunches went bad. Very, very bad.

5. Is religion a crutch?
It can be. It can become a crutch for not taking responsibility for developing a relationship with Christ. It can also become a reason to close yourself to other denominations within the Christian faith.

6. In your region, what is the "big" (most popular in the community or state) high school sport?
Football.

And I'm not one of the big fans.

7. Do you consider yourself rich?
Not by American standards. I consider myself blessed and thankful for what we have. I know that it all really belongs to God and what we do with it should be used for His glory. Do I always do that? No. I do try and often need reminders of how blessed we truly are.

The truth is that all Americans are rich compared to the rest of the world. We have no idea what it's really like to be poor.

8. Which of these would you have the best chance for success in administering:

A) CPR

B) Heimlich Maneuver

C) Changing a flat tire

CPR I hope I never have to use it.

9. Which dance would you prefer to learn & why:

A) Salsa

B) Hip Hop

C) Waltz

D) Swing

Salsa...hmmm...maybe there's a connection to Number 1.

10. What's the worst news you've ever delivered to someone?
Having to tell my family that Maggie had cancer. That was difficult.

11. Name something you learned in college that had nothing to do with classes or academics.
It doesn't matter who is or who isn't teacher's pet. It all boils down to responsibility. The professor doesn't care if you show up for class. I loved this! So many of my teacher's pet friends had a rude awakening. I was glad to be out of high school and be treated like an adult.

I also had a professor who said not to worry too much about getting straight A's. He said, unless we were trying to get into another academic program, it didn't matter. Employers will never ask you what grades you made in biology. They want to know your work ethic and if you can manage the job at hand. What he was trying to do was relieve our anxiety and encourage us to enjoy college, work part-time, and participate any other things. (May I add that he was a Psych professor!?)

12. New variation on an old question: If there's a song in your head that just won't get out, what is your favorite (or most repeated) line in that song?
Sock it to me. Sock it to me. Sock it to me. Sock it to me...

Visit the Lid for more Randomization!

Monday Goals and The Spice of Life

2010-08-23T09:04:00.000-05:00

I've decided to set myself a few goals for the week and post them here. I mean, really, what better way to hold yourself accountable than to POST IT ON THE INTERNET?

1. Breathe a little life into the 'ole blog. Seriously, the dust is settling, mainly because I've had serious writer's block. I hope to lift that block write out of the way (get it? WRITE out of the way? Tee Hee... sheesh. See I told you. Blocked.)

2. Walk with friends at least twice a week.

3. Get most of the housework complete by Friday so I can enjoy my weekends with the family.

4. Blog about all the sore muscles which will be the result of #2.

5. Clean out the spice cabinet. I realize this isn't a monumental accomplishment in the grand scheme of life, but have you seen how many bottles of oregano I have stashed in there?

Hope your Monday is off to a great start, with or without the oregano.

Random Dozen: Fair and a bit unbalanced

2010-08-18T09:36:00.016-05:00

1. What is your favorite fair/carnival food?

I haven't been to the fair since Daughter was a tiny baby. It may or may not have something to do with Hubs' aversion to carnies. Or it could have something to do with the fact that I can't even look at a ride without needing some Dramamine. The only things left are the games (which are soooo rigged,) food, and the animal exhibits. I will still play a few of the games in denial and I can see the animal exhibits by looking out my back door. Hello! SmallTown.

That leaves us with the food.

My favorite fair foods growing up were the Jaycee's foot long hot dogs. Local Albany non-profits had their own booths and they were always better than those little wagons the carnies brought to town. My second favorites were the freshly made pork rinds. (Hey, it's the fair. Cut me some slack.)

If I have to go with the typical fair food, I'd say funnel cakes. Who doesn't love fried dough topped with powdered sugar?

2. Are you holding onto something you need to let go of?

My aversion to carnies?

3. What is your favorite gift to receive?

Something handmade or something that is simple, but shows someone remembered me mentioning it. My close friends are the best at this.

4. When was the last time you tried something new?

This one made me think for a loooonnng time. Can't think of a single thing. Wow. Guess it's been a while. Maybe I should try something new, like daily posting to the blog.

5. What is your favorite and least favorite book genre?

Memoir, Mystery, Political Intrigue, Romance, Humor, Historical Fiction, Historical nonfiction, Chick Lit, Self-Help, Other

Least Favorite- Historical Fiction in it's true sense. I like fiction set in different times with the historical setting as a minor component. I don't care for fiction drowning in empire waists, Lords of The Manor, or prairie fires.

Favorite- Good Southern Fiction in any time period (I realize this isn't really a category. Please don't judge me.)

6.Silver or Gold?

To wear- Silver
To win- Gold

7. What makes you sigh?

People in car line who refuse to follow the rules but still want me to let them in/out, even though they are going the wrong direction, in the wrong lane, and making other people sigh.

Sometimes I don't just sigh. Sometimes I talk to them from behind my windshield in a higher tone than my normal voice. Ahem.

Sigh.

Note to self- New thing to try: Relaxation techniques

8. If you didn't know how old you are, how old would you claim you are?

I've always felt older in the mental sense, not necessarily in the physical sense. I think it has something to do with growing up an only child and being around adults a lot. You could say I have an old soul (not that I believe in that sort of thing.) One of my best friends is the same way.

I'd say 45.

9. Would you break a law to save a loved one? To protect a loved one?

I am normally a rule follower (see number 7) unless it is a matter of life and death or goes against common sense. SO, yes to this one.

10. If you had to teach something, what would it be?

Reading

11. You're having lunch with 3 people whom you respect and admire. They begin to criticize a close friend of yours, not knowing she is your friend. What do you do?

Take up for her. This has happened to me regarding someone I barely knew and I spoke up. When I tactfully (I hope!) said something, the women got really quiet.

I can't imagine what I would do or say if it were a close friend. (Probably do more than sigh.) I'd want someone to do the same for me.

12. Which of the 5 Love Languages is your prominent means of experiencing love? (Check out Lid's blog for a link to the quiz.)

Quality Time

Physical Touch

Acts of Service

Gifts

Words of Affirmation

My love lanugage is definitely Acts of Service, followed closely by Words of Affirmation

See Lid for more great Dozens!

Piggies and Betrayal

2010-08-12T09:33:00.000-05:00

Well, the week is nearly over and the cobwebs are forming in the corners of the blog.

I'm sure you've moved on with your life by now, but the consensus seems to be that the little piggy from the rhyme was sad.

I think he was said, too. Hubs is convinced he was happy. Who knows, really? And who cares, right?

This is my life, people. I spend time pondering the emotional state of swine.

What I really should be concerned with is why a pig would eat roast beef. That's just wrong. There should be some sort of farm animal pact.

Little piggy

2010-08-09T00:07:00.003-05:00

Hubs and I were watching TV last night when the new Geico commercial came on. (Have you noticed a theme here lately? I love commercials.) The one we watched featured the little piggy going "Wee, wee, wee all the home."

This launched into a controversy which I hope all of you will settle.

In the story we all told to our children, was the little piggy happy or sad? Was his "wee, wee, wee" a gleeful one or a teary one?

What do you think?

I'll tell you my take on it later.

As you can see, we had an exciting weekend.

Looking forward to your thoughts in the comments!

Love the comments. Keep 'em coming!

Also, CPQ has written a wonderful tribute to her dad. Today is his birthday. Be sure to head on over and wish him a happy one!

Friday's Fave Five: Silly This or That

2010-08-06T11:40:00.000-05:00

1. Yesterday I was at a local gift shop purchasing a stack of cards. I like to purchase cards in bulk. If I need a card, I buy that particular one and also buy some for any birthdays or other occasions over the next few months. That way I can have them on hand when I need them or just completely forget I have them and buy duplicates later. It all starts out to be a very efficient plan.

So I was paying for my cards when a little boy behind me kept stomping his foot. I thought he was marking time with the Sinatra tune playing overhead, but then I realized he was just a nervous kid. After a few minutes of this, his mother finally said,"That's enough."

I wanted to turn to her and tell her it was enough for me about 100 stomps before that. However, bless her heart for her patience.

Did I mention they were standing in line to buy candy? That's just what you need to give to a nervous kid- a bag of candy.

The clerk put the candy on the counter after she counted the pieces. She added up the amount, then waited as another clerk rang up my cards. In the meantime, the leader of Stomp nervously waited for his candy. The clerk then offered him his choice of one free silly band from a basket behind the counter.

Silly bands have been around for a while but they have just caught on here in Small Town. New fads arrive to us via Pony Express. It takes a while.

So the little nervous boy, wide-eyed, chose one silly band from the basket (which is like eating one potato chip) as the clerk quickly snatched it, I mean gently placed it back behind the iron bars of the counter. The little boy's mom asked her if they sold them, which they did, in packs, on the other side of the counter.

I chuckled and said to the clerk,"Yep. Go ahead and give them some crack and then get them addicted."

The mom laughed but the clerk was not amused.

All of that leads me to my favorite thing of the week, which is not silly bands, as you may have guessed.

No, it's the fact that I have a dark, sarcastic sense of humor which old clerks do not understand, but tired moms of nervous kids find amusing.

2. The hamster commercial. Hubs and I have laughed and laughed. Either you hate it or you love. We love it.

3. Lunch with friends. I had a nice lunch with a friend yesterday. Our girls played while we talked. It was great.

4. The bug man. I am waiting for him to arrive as I type. One of those New Mexico fire ants got me the other day. We have an area in our driveway where they have taken up residence. They are about to get evicted.

5. Good Mexican food. This was one thing I missed while we were away from Small Town. There's nothing like taco grease to lift a girl's spirits, until she stands on the scales.

Suddenly silly bands are looking more interesting.

See Susanne for more faves this week! Thanks, Susanne for hosting.

On Beauty Products and Brides

2010-08-05T09:52:00.000-05:00

I really should rename this blog "This Ain't Updated Very Much. Check Back When I Remember To Write Something, Probably In List Form."

But that would be really wordy and tough to center in my header. It could encroach on the curious cow photo.

I'd say we've been busy and productive this week, but I'd be lying.

Daughter had some friends over one day. We've had horseback riding, several unfruitful trips to the grocery store (I am holding off for the BIG shop,) and one trip to Sonic.

My big accomplishment? Cleaning out three drawers in our bathroom vanity.

Poor Hubs gets a small area under his sink. The drawers are mostly for me and all my make-up, hair and moisturizing products. I would say I feel sorry for him, but I really don't think a man needs more than a small area under the sink for his morning routine products. Do you?

As for the results of the clean-up, I realized that I buy a lot of anti-aging products that don't work and that we have every shade of pink nail polish known to woman.

Maybe that shade of fuchsia will distract from all the wrinkles.

On a completely unrelated note, I am tickled pink about the upcoming Say Yes To The Dress- Atlanta. I watch the New York version, but I can't wait to compare the two shows. It should be a delight in accents, opinionated mamas and the importance of deciding on a hairstyle before purchasing the bridal head piece. (Priorities, people.)

Have a great Thursday.

I hope your toes are pink and wrinkle free.

More things I don't understand: Flying

2010-08-02T11:54:00.000-05:00

1. Why does the pilot always tell you the weather of the arrival city during the flight? It doesn't really help me to know it's 95 degrees and humid in Atlanta or 42 degrees and cloudy in New York. I already packed.

2. Why does he tell us our altitude? The number of thousands of feet we are cruising at doesn't really matter to me as long as that number isn't rapidly decreasing and that little oxygen thing doesn't pop down.

3. The extra weight fee on luggage is a total scam. I recently was charged for one piece of luggage being 4 pounds over the weight limit. The baggage checker lady told me I could take things out of it and put it in another suitcase. That makes no sense to me. Shouldn't it be TOTAL weight of all my luggage?

I just let them charge me extra because I knew if I had opened that piece of luggage, it would have been like opening a can of silly snakes. Stuff would have been flying everywhere. Not that I packed snakes. That's out of regulations.

4. Why do I get excited about the free soda on the plane? I don't even like my Diet Coke over ice.

5. Is it just me or does that little drink cart look like a cross between an ice cream vendor's cart and something from a HazMat team?

That being said, where's my ice cream?

Classic Southern Writing and Baked Goods

2010-07-29T10:58:00.031-05:00

Yesterday I spent my time running errands, going to horseback lessons (which is always a treat,) and staring at the basket of folded clothes which continues to nag me. Never mind the inch of brown dust in my windowsills and on the furniture which collected while I was away. I also need to mop the floor (brown dirt of SmallTown, you are my nemesis) but instead I am on here blogging about the fact that I've done nothing about it.

Ironic.

Oh, I forgot. There was one other thing I did yesterday. That was catch up on my TV viewing, including O'Reilly featuring Laura Ingraham who is smart and witty and lovely, but I'd rather watch Bill. Sorry, it's like Jay stepping in for Johnny.

I also may or may not have watched a few minutes of Days of Our Lives during my daytime channel surfing. Within the time it takes me to get a Diet Coke, I was all caught up on Sam's latest saga and the fact that Hope still looks good.

I'm still so proud of her for losing all that weight and keeping it off and if you find that shallow and unimportant, then you've never struggled with a weight problem or seen the wedding episode where she had to ride the back of Bo's bike with her dress flapping up in the wind.

Bless her heart.

So today I've decided to get back to the important things in life, regular posting on my blog.

If you are wondering about the donut I mentioned in my last post, it was from The Donut Hole in Destin. The Donut Hole is not paying me for this endorsement, by the way. They've already rewarded me plenty with their good key lime pie, huge biscuits, and now the red velvet donut.

It tastes just like red velvet cake, only with the added benefit of not needing a fork. It even has a layer of cream cheese icing on top. Y'all. It was better than Krispy Kreme. That's pretty much all I need to say about that.

On our trip, I decided to pick a good book for the airport, down time in the airplane, and all the moments I was able to put my feet up on the beach and relax. I say "able" because I have a daughter who likes me to help her build sand sculptures and look for shells and a husband who likes to come report to me about Daughter's sand sculptures and found shells.

I picked The Help because I had read great reviews from other bloggers. It was probably the best book I have read in a very long time. Again, no endorsements. (I really should make a button to cover that.) I won't go into the details or the characters, but if you are from the South, you'll love the voices and themes. Be prepared to cry a little and cheer a lot.

Moving on.

Now that I've delved into the serious issues of life- donuts and Southern novels, I need to get to that layer of brown dust and that irritating folded basket of clothes...

I HEAR YOU. I SAID I WAS COMING.

P.S. A bite of red velvet cake donut while reading The Help would be a great combination. I wish I'd thought of it earlier myself. Drat.

On vacations, planes, and housekeeping hang-ups.

2010-07-27T10:33:00.000-05:00

We are home.

Our luggage made it.

We made it.

And I have some stories. Oh, the stories.

Some of which include weird people on the plane (not us, although that could be a post,) the best donut I ever had, one of the best books I've read in a mighty long time, my love for water, and the incredible irony of changing seats on the plane.

It's all in my head. Along with plans to lose the five pounds I gained on the trip.

May I just add that your comments about cleaning motel rooms and cabins made me feel a little more comfortable about leaving my house? Yes, there is an underground Lysol/Clorox cleaning team out there, folks, and we are keeping the world as germ-free as possible.

You could say it's a wealth of information. Or not.

2010-07-19T09:12:00.009-05:00

We traveled right through the Peach State and I didn't manage to blog a thing. It may have something to do with my lack of Internet access, but I'm just guessing. I do have some things tucked away in the dusty corners of my brain, so we'll see if I ever get it on the Web.

On Saturday, we arrived at our condo on the beach. Let me clarify- the condo we rented, not our condo, as I have not won the lottery (you have to play to win) and no rich uncle or aunt in my family has died. However, what we lack in inheritance, we make up for in crazy.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. The beach.

So we arrived at the condo I rented from "one of those websites where you save money by renting from the person who owns it" (totally trying to avoid the correct title so as to avoid Google searches.) We have done so in the past and it saves a lot of money.

However.

There are a few perks you do not receive.

There is usually no daily maid service. You could be totally caught off guard by something when you arrive.

Now, you do have some negotiating power with a contract, but then you have to be all confrontational and assertive and, unlike many of my sweet Southern friends, I have no problem with that.

So far, the two places we have rented by the person(s) who own them have been fine. They have been clean, but I had to do my own cleaning.

Then again, I have issues.

Let me tell you about my issues. Go ahead and get your second cup of coffee.

I have two clean standards.

1. Family/Friends/People I Generally Know Or Send Christmas Cards To- When I visit their house, I feel at home. I have no issue about clean/neat/tidy. I feel welcome. I know them. I love them. I hope they extend the same graciousness to me when they visit my house. (Don't even ask me how often I vacuum under the bed.)

2. Hotel/Motel/Good Grief, People I Never Met Have Slept and Eaten Here- Hotel germs are different. And, I don't mean Forrest Gump, we'll grow to love you kind of different. I don't know them. I don't love them.

The thought that someone I don't know has been there and maybe the housekeeper missed a few places makes me twitch a little. So, unless I am at the Hampton Inn (they even wash the comforter!) I clean the place again.

Here's the kicker. The longer I'm there, the deeper I clean.

It's a sickness, really. But they say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

I always rewash all the dishes before we use them. I wipe down the microwave, frig., and counters. And then I sanitize the bathrooms.

Sometimes I use Lysol. Sometimes I use cleaner with bleach. It's all about the mood at the time.

That environmentally-friendly stuff is great for the environment but seriously, vacation is no time to be saving the environment.

All of this being said, if you are still here, you are probably sitting there either shaking your head at my insanity or thinking about all those times you stayed in a condo/hotel room and wished you'd had a can of Lysol.

I'm just here to help.

You're welcome.

Oh, where do I begin?

2010-07-11T20:05:00.001-05:00

I have a multitude of travel tidbits and my mind is swimming with blog fodder.

I will post later, but here are a few little morsels for you.

1. I had no idea how much I had missed hearing a Southern accent. It is music to my ears.

2. The humidity, it is good.

3. It is downright shameful how much food I've eaten since we arrived in the South. Tasty, but shameful.

4. I was sitting at lunch today and saw a woman with skin that was actually dewy. Note to Hubs: You have to get me out of New Mexico in time for my skin to eventually return to the dewy.

5. The sound of bugs at night is delightful.

6. I head for southeast Georgia tomorrow. Red clay and good fried catfish. It doesn't get any better than that.

7. On Friday, I saw a gator. A gator! I love that. He welcomed me back home. At least I think that look was a welcome. Although it could have been the "you could sooo be my dinner" look as well. Those gators are so hard to read.

8. I realized today that I could visit Target in three states by the end of my trip.

9. I am all about setting goals and reaching them.

Observations From 5-B

2010-07-08T08:23:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Daughter and I arrived at the home of my in-laws in South Carolina. It was a cool and breezy 100 degrees.

I've been planning this trip for months. SmallTown does not have what I'd call a reliable airport (as in the airplanes are so small they look like they need an 8 year-old on the ground with a remote control.) So we always have to drive at least 2 hours to another airport. For some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to fly out of Lubbock at 7:30 AM. That would be in the morning.

This meant that I had to be at the airport at 6:30 AM. In the morning.

My goal was to reach South Carolina before rush hour and before dark. However, flying out of Lubbock at 7:30 would mean leaving my house at 4:30 (which is also technically in the morning.)

We decided it would be better to drive over the day before, enjoy a good dinner, get a good night's sleep, then head to the airport, as opposed to getting up while the night watchmen were on their coffee breaks.

Hubs left work a little early and I already had our bags packed. We drove to Lubbock and went to Pei Wei for some good Asian food. That's when it all went very, very bad.

Hubs decided to teach Daughter the art of making a suicide drink at the fountain drink machine. He apparently only mixed Dr. Pepper and root beer, but mostly Dr. Pepper. The thing about the Doc is that it has caffeine.

By the time we got back to the hotel, Daughter was full of energy, so much so that she had the uncontrollable giggles. This lasted until 1:00 AM. In the morning.

We got up at 5:00 AM. Yes, that would also be IN THE MORNING.

We opened up the Hampton Inn breakfast and I must say that those scrambled eggs taste much better when they are freshly made. I usually eat them near the end of the breakfast time because I am normally still in the bed and the only way I ever get breakfast and coffee is if Hubs brings it to me while I'm still in my pajamas rubbing my eyes.

But yesterday the sun and I shared our first cup of coffee together. I looked around for that Jimmy Dean sausage commercial guy, but even he was still asleep.

When we loaded our suitcases in the car, I said,"It's still dark. This is so wrong."

Hubs drove us to the airport and dropped us off at the curb because of something about a meter running. Oh, I kid. He parked and then made me pay for it.

Seriously, I was eternally grateful that he was able to drive us to the airport (which is an act of love and friendship right up there with helping someone move) before returning to SmallTown to go to work. God love him. He pulled the suitcases, hoisted them up on the scale, checked our bags. He basically did all the heavy lifting.

He even waited to make sure we made it through Security because you never know, what with my record and all.

After we made it to the other side, Daughter decided she needed a water. I was glad to fork out the twenty bucks to keep her hydrated, so we waited at the Starbucks counter. A lady dressed like a pilot was ahead of us. She ordered 4 drinks, all with different dairy and non-dairy contents and types of syrup. I kept an eye on my gate, wondering if I'd make it and get the water.

I couldn't complain because every girl needs her Starbucks coffee whenever available and heaven forbid for me to get in the way of a pilot who is just trying to keep her crew awake. (I don't know much about flying regulations, but that seems like it would be at the top.)

We were able to get our water in time and board our plane, which had another pilot and crew, I may add. I don't know if they were properly caffeinated.

Within 20 minutes of takeoff, the pilot or co-pilot (how do you tell?) walked to the back of the plane to the bathroom. My first thought was, "Don't they need him up there?" and my next thought was, "Didn't he go before we left?"

My third thought was,"Maybe he did get a double espresso."

And my last and final thought was,"This is such great blog fodder, if only I can stay awake long enough to write it. Maybe I should have had the double espresso."

No need for Lat/Long; Just follow your nose.

2010-07-05T23:59:00.000-05:00

I've been running around today, getting ready for our trip. First I was off to the drugstore, then to Wal-mart, then to UPS, which was closed for the holiday that fell on yesterday. Whatever, Brown.

They know I'm in their clinches and I'll return tomorrow since I do not go to the post office EVER.

I returned to an empty house and unloaded my few packages. Hubs and Daughter had gone geocaching. Soon, they both waltzed in with Hubs' new GPS (which we gave him for Father's Day) but no geocache treasures. They were pretty disappointed.

However, they can't blame the new GPS. It is pretty cool, if I do say so myself.

Daughter gave me an update on their hunt. She told me that one location had a lot of grass or brush or something and that they decided it was best "not to stick their hands in there." That was when I thanked the Good Lord that I married a man with sense.

Then she said they "smelled a rotting carcass, IT SMELLED JUST LIKE A ROTTING CARCASS!"

She said it in all caps for emphasis.

That was when I thanked the Good Lord that I birthed such an honest and olfactory sensitive child.

And that I was left out of the expedition.

Untold lessons in American History and side dishes.

2010-07-04T12:58:00.002-05:00

I was driving home from the grocery store last night feeling like I was dodging cannonballs from the Redcoats. Everyone in SmallTown decided to set off their fireworks, some of which were very close to the road and to my Honda packed with provisions. Is this what it was like for Paul Revere while he was trying to make it home with his Diet Coke?

Growing up, we had only sparklers. The rest were illegal in Georgia. Living in Florida, most of the fireworks were legal and we always enjoyed our neighbors' fireworks across the beaver pond.

However, living in SmallTown, some of these rockets are a little too close for comfort. Either that, or I've turned into the neighborhood old lady who runs outside swinging my cane and yelling something about getting off my lawn or I'll go get my shotgun.

Not that I have a cane.

While I was at the grocery store, I ran into a friend who asked me how we were going to celebrate the 4th.

Without hesitation I answered, "Eat."

That's pretty much how we celebrate everything, isn't it? Even a funeral, which is not a celebration, of course, but requires lots of food.

Hubs' birthday is also coming up, and Daughter and I will be out of town. So we thought we'd celebrate this weekend. My idea is to celebrate his birth with the birth of the country, because that would be festive and easy and, let's face it, the two are close in age.

Oh, I kid. Our country is still young.

For Hubs' birthday I ordered Corky's BBQ. Hubs loves ribs. Good ribs. He is a rib snob. I don't judge him. I feel the same way about coffee. We are big fans of the Memphis-style BBQ. Kansas may run a close second, Texas third, and poor East Carolina trails in at the end.

I just can't get past the vinegar based meat and the idea of eating corn fritters with my BBQ. I need ketchup and brown sugar and buttered BBQ bread, or even a loaf of light bread on the table.

(Note: Light bread is just a plain loaf of sandwich bread, perfect for sopping up sauce that managed to drip off your fingers. There is nothing light about it.)

You may wonder why I'd pay an arm and a leg to have the FedEx man deliver ribs to Hubs. We have BBQ restaurants in SmallTown, but nothing compares to Corky's. The only thing better would be to take Hubs to the restaurant itself, which, looking back may have cost just as much as shipping on dry ice.

In the ribs package were beans, pulled pork (for me!) and a fudge pie. The fudge pie wasn't necessarily a required menu item, but for the small amount of extra money, I couldn't resist. All I have to do today is make some potato salad.

Potato salad is a required BBQ menu item. And, of course, I am using BBQ as a noun here.

Come to think of it, potato salad shows up on the table for a lot of meals.

When you ask a woman, "What are you taking to the cook-out?" she will answer in one of two ways.

"The men are cooking the meat, so I'm taking potato salad," or "I don't know what to bring, so I think I'll bake a cake."

For those of us who don't bake cakes, we bring that chocolate pudding dessert which has about a million names to include words like "delight" and "death."

Which brings me back to potato salad.

It also makes an appearance at funerals. Something about mourning the beloved calls out for a Tupperware or an heirloom glass bowl of potatoes smothered in Hellman's mayonnaise. What else do you eat with the bucket of fried chicken?

I have no idea how my post on Hubs' birthday turned into a tangent of side dishes, except for the fact that pretty much everything in a Southerner's life revolves around food.

Apparently, the same food.

You could call potato salad the Southerner's fruit cake. It has a long history of showing up at important events.

You know, they say some Loyalist never returned that Tupperware dish of potato salad and that's what really started the Revolution.

Have a Happy 4th!

(Just be sure to return the Tupperware.)

More things I don't understand: Texting and Grammar of The Whipper Snappers

2010-07-01T12:04:00.001-05:00

1. Abbreviating our abbreviations.

"K"- Short for "OK," which used to be "O.K.," which used to be "Okay."

Have we gotten so busy that we can't even add that second letter? One more keystroke, people.

2. :) and ;)- What happened to his nose?

3. Numbers for letters- Or should I say Numbers 4 letters? Texting has gotten so nuts that we are starting to use numbers to abbreviate for words.

4 replaces for.
2 replaces to.
U replaces you. So, that's not really a number.
Then there's Thanx. We dropped the "k" and "s." Why?

4. (Which is really the number 4 and not the word "for" or "fore" if I were writing about golf.)

Abbreviations for entire phrases that really have no literal meaning-

LOL- If I seriously laughed out loud this much, people would be locking me up.
ROTFL- I haven't actually done this since I was 5.

5. Here are a few of my own.

TLTUEW- Too Lazy To Use Entire Words
FHTS- Forgot How To Spell; used when I have to come up with a new word because I can't spell the original one I wanted to use.

6. Then there are the ones that don't really work.

We can't forget TOTP.

Gotta go 4 now. U have a good week. K?

TOTL- Turning Off The Laptop.

:)

Would someone please find his nose? Thanx.

Every VBS story should have a great ending.

2010-06-30T13:00:00.007-05:00

I still keep in touch with friends at our old church in Florida. Namely, my sidekick Steph whom I shared many a Vacation Bible School with teaching, decorating, assisting, and every other job/duty you can imagine. If it were not church, you could call us partners in crime. Since it was church, you could call us co-committee members, which is essentially one in the same.

This year the main Southern Baptist VBS theme is Saddle Ridge Ranch. The name says it all. Horses, ranches, barns, and the like. Around CowTown, it's Saddle Ridge Ranch pretty much all year long. In the Florida panhandle, notsomuch. So you can see how decorating for a horsey ranch-themed VBS can be a challenge for my buddy Stephanie.

I emailed her the other day to tell her I'd be on the hunt for any ranch-type items I can send to her in the mail. This is the first summer we have not attended their VBS. Even when we didn't live there, it always seemed that we were back for the summer. We will really miss it this year. Next year, you can bet on your horse that I'll plan our vacation around the VBS schedule. Before long, Daughter will be too old for it. Sniff. Sniff.

So, since we can't be there in person, I thought we could be there in decor.

Daughter and I went on a hunt for all things cheap and horse related. Normally, those two adjectives do not saddle up together. My goal would be to find some sort of tack dumpster where I could dive in and find old crops, saddles, and lassos. But, sadly none of those seem to exist.

We went to the local boot and tack store where I looked for inspiration. Well, I actually looked for discounted goods, but even those were not in our price range. I had a long talk with a cowboy who was determined that there were cattle all over the Florida panhandle. He swore by his hat that Steph could look some up in the phone book and ask a rancher to borrow a saddle and hay for her decoration.

I didn't have the heart or courage to argue with him.

I know there are cattle ranches in Florida, just not as numerous as this cowboy believes. Tacky tourists and oil-covered beaches? Yes.

So we left the boot shop and headed for a local crafters' store. This store is filled with numerous booths of handmade quilts, candles, wood crafts, and crochet toilet paper dolls. If nothing else, we were looking for inspiration once again.

We walked up to a booth and I pointed to a sign. As soon as Daughter read it, she let out a loud, "EWWWWW!"

The sign advertised a new bath towel for $14.99 which is designed for you to dry one end of your body on one end of the towel and the other end of your body on the other end of the towel.

It's called the "Face Butt" towel.

I'm not even kidding.

It is available in a variety of colors with the words "Face" and "Butt" sewn on each end to remind you of which end, ahem, you are supposed to dry. It's all in an effort to Go Green.

I quickly took out my phone and snapped pictures which I no longer have. There's apparently this option called "Save" that I forgot to do after taking the pictures.

I will tell you that the "Face Butt" towel is offered in Scooby Doo and John Deere prints, none of which match my bathroom decor. Drat.

In the end, pardon the pun, we did not find any horse-related VBS decor. Although, I was inspired to come home and wash all of our towels.

However, Steph, you can expect a new towel set for Christmas. Would you prefer the Princess or Patriotic theme?

P.S. As a side note, you have no idea how difficult it was for me to type the word "Butt" in my blog. For the sake of tactfulness, I was tempted to replace it with "bottom." I am guessing the "Face Bottom" towel just doesn't have the same ring to it, and I'm fairly certain that if you would make or purchase one of these towels, tactfulness is probably not your strong point.

And then I came home and rubbed my tired bunion.

2010-06-24T15:52:00.004-05:00

So this week has been Vacation Bible School for us. This is the first time I've helped in VBS at our new church and this time I took on a completely new job.

Making lunches.

As in Lunch Lady.

Yes, I spent the week in the church kitchen making sandwiches and learning how many orange slices make a serving. A very sweet lady came early each morning to help us get started. She works in a local elementary school lunchroom and is an expert in the lunch making.

After she left for her job, another volunteer and I finished the task. We made sandwiches, bagged grapes, sliced oranges and apples, sorted cookies, and delivered water and Popsicles.

By the end of the week I was much more educated in the food pyramid than I'd prefer, but not even close to the expertise of the sweet lunchroom worker who became my mentor. I did, however, suddenly feel the urge to go out and purchase some orthopedic shoes.

The kids all seemed to have a good time. Last night at our Wednesday night kids' activities, one of the teachers reminded them that we were having VBS this week, and that there was still a chance to attend.

One little boy who is extremely bright and the ripe old age of nine, raised his hand to comment,
"VBS? I wasn't notified."

We swallowed our giggles and apologized for his lack of notification.

Maybe I should have him help me in the lunchroom. He'd probably know exactly how many ounces of turkey make up a serving.

Random and more random

2010-06-22T18:25:00.002-05:00

Thanks for your kind words about Maggie. Y'all are the best.

I promise to get back to some sort of normal blogging one of these days, but for now, here is my favorite list form.

1. Favorite line I heard today on TV-

"How do you just walk into a house and take a TV Guide? How does she expect you to watch TV? Am I just supposed to turn it on and wander aimlessly around the dial?"

(You guessed it, from Seinfeld.)

2. Our family always writes things on the back of greeting cards. Not meaningful quotes or witty quips. Just our normal, odd tidbits of humor. On Father's Day, Daughter wrote on the back of Hubs' card. It was hilarious. I could share it here but it would make no sense whatsoever. It is apparent that she takes after her strange parents.

3. It's hot as blue blazes here. It's a dry heat, which only means I feel like a ham.

4. I think the new host on Food Network's Challenge sounds like she needs to clear her throat.

5. God Bless the person who invented air conditioning. See #3.

6. I've been feeling creative and crafty, but not necessarily inspired. I wonder if this is how Van Gogh got frustrated.

7. I could never cut off my own ear. See #6.

8. Looking forward to our trip to The South and to the Florida Panhandle. I hope it isn't covered in oil when we get there.

I told Hubs the BP oil spill was the Brits' way of getting us back for that whole 1776 thing. (If you are a Brit, please do not be offended. This is my pitiful attempt at sarcasm. However, I have to tell you that I'm still not a huge hot tea drinker.)

9. I'd give anything for some good fried green tomatoes. No way to get green tomatoes here. I guess I'll have to wait until our trip.

10. Here are a few other things I'm going to make a complete pig of myself over:

Starbucks coffee
Chick-Fil-A
Shrimp
Grouper
Crab
Thai Food
Good summer veggies

Y'all have a great week!

My Maggie

2010-06-21T00:57:00.003-05:00

From the moment I saw her little black nose pressed through the holes in the cardboard box, I loved her.

I loved that she was tiny and fuzzy and black. I loved that her paws looked too small for her body. I loved that her teeth were razor sharp like her claws when she pounced on my head as I lounged on the couch.

I loved that Hubs went to the shelter to get her as a gift for me. She was mine (especially when she destroyed something or needed a bath.)

Maggie.

Over time, she became Hubs' cat, too. Like most men, he pretended to be bothered by the cat of the house, but he was always the one who fed her in the morning. She greeted him as soon as his feet hit the floor.

Sometimes I caught him letting her curl up on the couch right next to him. At night, she always crept on the bed, careful to walk all around Hubs and not on him, for fear he'd shew her off.

She moved with us many times, fussing from her carrier the entire way. When the car would stop, she thought the trip was over. Cats aren't good with time. They only know that they hate where they are and they want to get to wherever it is that you are forcing them to go.

When I found out I was pregnant, she was there. She sprawled across my tummy as it grew. She purred loudly as she always did and I knew that somehow the baby inside could hear her.

The day finally came when my tummy couldn't grow any more (believe me) and Daughter was born. Maggie was there when we welcomed her home.

When we laid Daughter on her blanket on the floor, we told Maggie to stay off of it. She always laid right on the edge and slept as our daughter slept. When Daughter cried and I didn't hear it, Maggie clawed at the nursery door until I went to the room to check on the baby. (I can hear her in her condescending cat voice saying,"Human Mothers. Hmph!")

Maggie patiently tolerated the tug of toddler hands, the playful imagination of a preschooler, and the pet grooming attempts of a kindergartner. She listened to stories and jokes and heartbreaks that I, as a mother, will probably never know. She kept the feet of a sick child warm, and nestled against the tired body of a weary mom.

She annoyed me to no end.

She stole and chewed all the curly ribbon she could find. She shredded the furniture. She scared nearly every kennel worker we ever met. (She is probably on some kind of underground list.)

She climbed in the dryer on top of clean clothes. She crawled inside box lids of board games. She ran up the attic stairs and walked around on the insulation. She found a torn place in the covering of the box springs and crawled inside. Her tiny cat paws pressed against the fabric of the box springs as I tried to coax her out with catnip.

She attacked the Christmas tree. She slept on top of wrapped presents. She peed on my husband's clothes, on bath rugs, or any other thing she willed to mark.

But, I loved her.

I loved her picky, rude, better-than-thou, tail-in-the-air attitude.

She was Maggie.

And after a brief fight with cancer, we said good-bye to her. Her last days were filled with all the Medleys she could eat, all the attention and love she could stand, and all the bath rugs I could keep clean. She slept and purred and in the end, she went out with the same cat attitude that made me fall in love with her.

When it was time, I stroked her face, the only place we were ever allowed to pet, and told her it was okay to let it go. It was time and that I knew she was ready to leave.

And when it was all over, I felt nothing but grief and loss and peace all at the same time.

She gave our family thirteen years of hairballs and furniture repairs and apologies to kennel staff. She was the most irritating, sassy and loving creature I've ever known.

She was my Maggie and she will always have a warm place to sleep in my heart.

Thank you for sharing her many stories with me, including this one.

Friday's Fave Five- Summer and Soccer

2010-06-18T11:16:00.007-05:00

Here are my favorites for the week.

And since I'm in a blogging and writing funk, let me say how grateful I am for the list form.

1. Watching Hubs watch the World Cup- Notice I didn't say watching the World Cup with Hubs, although I have been in the room and looked at the TV (as my grandparents would say.) Since I know pretty much nothing about soccer, I won't even pretend that I watched it with him. It would be like him saying he went with me shopping for fancy linens.

However, I'm learnin.'

A few things I have learned.

South African horns sound like a swarm of angry bees.

Soccer games have momentum. None of this standing there and tapping the plate or calling time-outs constantly.

Three goals total is a serious high score. For good reason.

Have you noticed all the running and kicking?

2. Upgrading the satellite- Hubs only watches the World Cup. He doesn't really watch any other sports. So that means he only needs a sports channel every four years. (Yes, I am blessed, ladies.)

We upgraded our satellite package so Hubs could watch any and every World Cup game he wants. We have ESPN 1, 2, and 2 1/2, which is only on 12 hours instead of the usual 24. Oh, I kid.

The upside of the upgrade is that now I get to watch all the home shows. However, the package that has my favorite home improvement networks also includes some yucky, not-so-family-friendly networks. At the end of World Cup, we are going to downgrade to our old, boring, less scary package.

In the meantime, I'm watching HGTV as much as Hubs watches soccer while flipping right past MTV.

And may I just say that it used to be about the music, man.

3. Summer- Yesterday Daughter and I went to Chili's for lunch for absolutely no reason at all, except that we wanted to.

You just can't do that during school.

4. Sonic's Sparkling Strawberry Lemonade- yummy and refreshing

5. This post by the Carpool Queen. You won't believe what she and her mom got for the low, low price of $9.95.

See Susanne for more great Faves. Have a great weekend and Father's Day!

And I really miss Bob Barker.

2010-06-15T18:45:00.006-05:00

I have to confess.

Summer has ushered in some guilty pleasures for me.

Other than the excuse to eat Ben and Jerry's ice cream, I've fallen into some tempting television habits. It may have something to do with the fact that I sit in my pajamas most of the day, I mean morning.

It all started when I was flipping through the channels one morning and saw an old favorite, The Young and The Restless. Y & R was my addiction when I went off to college, along with Melrose Place. Don't judge me.

When you're in college, entertainment is cheap, both in the monetary and apparently moral forms. I'm not proud. I'm just sayin.'

After graduating from college and getting a real job, I had my own place, along with my own television. The Young and The Restless came on at lunch. I rushed home every day to my frozen Michelina's entree (hey, Lean Cuisines were a splurge) to watch Jack and Victor fight over make-up lines and a woman.

I loved Jack. He was the kind of guy you loved to hate. He was the kind of guy I would have actually dated before I found Hubs and realized that boyfriends could actually be cute and kind and decent and not nerdy all at the same time. Who knew?

Today I was watching Young and The Restless once again, not enough to catch up. No, that would mean that I am a frequent viewer. Ahem.

There on the screen was none other than David Hassellhof.

Apparently, after he stopped saving lives on the beach, he was able to squeeze in med school during his gig at America's Got Talent. Now he is some kind of doctor on Y & R where today he convinced his TV mom to take deep breaths and let go of some dramatic issues. (Not that I was paying attention.)

After a very brief viewing of David's life-saving techniques, I clicked over to my other guilty pleasure. Judge Judy.

I heart her.

She tells the truth in such a confrontational, yet completely legal way. Her accent and no-nonsense attitude are perfect accessories to the black robe. It is television joy. But really, there is no need to watch her shows. They all end the same way. It all boils down to the same question, "Was it a loan or a gift?"

Maybe Judge Judy could finally settle all the drama between Jack and Victor once and for all.

But, then what would I watch during the summer?

Honey, is that the World Cup or a Hitchcock Movie?

2010-06-14T22:58:00.004-05:00

Well, I cooked and ate the shrimp. They were tasty, not guilt-free, mind you, but tasty. Sometimes a girl has to give up her shrimp convictions for the sake of hospitality. The luau party was great- food was good and the company was even better.

After wrapping up that party, we moved on to another one, our daughter's birthday party. This time I didn't have to make any craft kits, so it was fairly easy. We rented a place that does birthday parties and all I had to do was show up with the food.

Is this what it's like for the Hollywood moms? I had only done the rent-the-spot type party one other time. I must say, it is delightful. I do enjoy hosting kids' party at my house, but it was nice and relaxing to have it somewhere else.

Tonight Daughter and Hubs watched a World Cup game they had recorded on the DVR. I bought Hubs a Jersey with his name on the back for the last World Cup. Daughter has an old jersey from playing on a team several years ago. So now they sit on the sofa together cheering on the players and making commentaries about yellow cards and other terms I don't even pretend to understand. It is precious.

However, I would like to say, for the record, that the South African horn the spectators play in the stands is quite annoying. Pardon the pun, but it is all the buzz on the Internet. It sounds exactly like a hive of bees hovering over the stadium.

So tomorrow I may order Hubs a matching pair of royal blue ear plugs to match his jersey. Or maybe a pair just for me. I wonder if they come in petal pink...

You could say I'm a shrimp radical.

2010-06-11T11:58:00.005-05:00

It's only 10:00 AM and so far I've made fruit salad, shrimp, and put meatballs in a crock pot.

That may sound normal for some of you, but for me, I don't wake up in the summer until about 11:00. Oh, my body may be up walking around, but my brain is still nestled under a Pottery Barn comforter.

I'm helping host a luau party for a great group of friends. The party is tonight, and my friend K and I have been planning and shopping and texting all week. It has been a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to it.

Yesterday Daughter and I finished my grocery shopping. A few items on my list were shrimp, mango, pineapple, and kiwi.

In case you're new here, I live in New Mexico. It's not necessarily the easiest place to find tropic-related pantry items.

I was in the seafood department, i.e. the place where they thaw all the fish, when I was faced with a dilemma.

What shrimp should I buy?

I have strong convictions about shrimp (not as strong as say, my feelings on how the X Files ended) and have firmly believed that I should always purchase shrimp from the United States. I've lived along the Gulf and in Georgia. (Plus, I've watched Forrest Gump about one hundred times.) Our Shrimpers work very hard to earn their living. I want to support them when I can.

When we lived in Florida, I always passed on the cheap shrimp from Thailand or Vietnam and went for the unpeeled, fresh shrimp from the Gulf of Mexico. It tastes better. It makes me feel better.

But yesterday there were no shrimp from Alabama or Florida or anywhere else in these United States. We're in New Mexico. All the shrimp is frozen and foreign.

But, what was I to do? A luau party is just not complete without shrimp.

So I had to buy shrimp from an Asian country where I'm sure the people are perfectly lovely and work hard but none of them speak with an Alabama accent.

When we got in the car, Daughter noted my shrimp purchase. She has apparently witnessed my convictions and knows how difficult is it for me to buy shrimp from foreign waters. She also watches a lot of Good Eats, our resource for all food science and knowledge.

"Bad shrimp will be oily and smell like gasoline," she said.

Nearly quoting word-for-word the instructions of Alton Brown, she referenced his show about purchasing spoiled shrimp, but her quote also reminded me of one thing.

Unless this gulf oil spill is capped, contained, and cleaned up, everything in the gulf will be oily and smelling like gasoline.

But it isn't just about shrimp literally wreaking of oil and gasoline, it's the fact that this whole thing just stinks.

Stinks to high heaven.

To you shrimpers and oyster men and deep sea fishermen along the banks of the Deep South, we're rooting for ya. We're praying for ya.

We're hoping for the days when we can all sit down together at a picnic table covered in newspaper, dump a big bucket of peel 'n eat shrimp, with lots of paper towels and wet wipes nearby, and enjoy a great meal from the great Gulf of Mexico.

Until then, I think I'm going to pass on the shrimp from foreign waters, whether it tastes fresh or not.

We can eat meatballs for a while.

What is that sound of crickets chirping in the distance?

2010-06-10T15:28:00.002-05:00

Well, hello there!

My how time flies when you are busy. The blogging thing just gets pushed to the side.

I'll be back in a few.

In the meantime, what have y'all been up to this summer? Vacations? Pool days? Just hanging around the house?

Do tell.

P.S. My Spellcheck just highlighted a spelling error in "y'all" above and I fixed it. How I love that my Spellcheck recognizes "y'all."

Next weekend we document our Activia challenge.

2010-06-06T22:18:00.005-05:00

Well, I'm sitting here watching one of my favorite movies, Napoleon Dynamite, while Hubs snoozes on the sofa.

This is our nightly ritual. Hubs puts in a movie or a Seinfeld DVD with the intent to stay semi-conscious, I curl up with the laptop to blog, then peer over the top of the screen to see Hubs asleep before the opening theme song ends.

This is where I take advantage of my close proximity to Hubs (how can you ignore a source of such good material.)

Saturday was when Hubs discovered an old cap, and yes, I said cap, in his closet. It is a tan baseball cap he received free for coaching soccer with an Alabama recreational department. That alone makes this funny, but the story doesn't end there.

He and Daughter attempted to go to a rodeo (explanation to follow) and he wore his cap. He came home and left in on all day. Inside.

At one point I looked over the laptop screen and saw Hubs wearing his rec. department cap, lounging on the sofa, and watching Matlock or something. I emailed Nancy to tell her that Hubs had suddenly become Paw Paw.

That's when I decided to clean out his closet and remove all of his pleated pants and tube socks.

Now I'll explain why they attempted to attend a rodeo.

I had plans with a friend on Saturday, so Hubs and Daughter were on their own. The annual rodeo was in town and they decided they would go.

I got online and checked the local paper for a schedule. I knew I had read the schedule earlier in the week. So, I did a search on the paper's website and found an article listing all of the rodeo's activities, including some super fun kid's rodeo activities for Saturday afternoon. I shared the times with Hubs and they were all ready to go.

A few minutes after I got home, Hubs and Daughter drove up in the garage.

"How was it?" I asked.

"There was nothing there," Hubs said, "there was a huge sign but nothing going on."

"Well, that's weird," I said as I looked at the newspaper article I had printed out.

I pointed to the schedule and said,"Look. It was supposed to be today, Saturday, at 1:00."

Then I handed the printed article to Hubs for him to read.

He looked it over, handed it back to me, and said,"This article was written in 2006. We were only four years late!"

Dang.

While I did my search, I didn't bother to check the dates on the articles that popped up. As it turns out, the kids' rodeo activities for THIS YEAR were earlier in the week and the only thing left for Saturday was the adult competition.

So, as you can see, Hubs is not the only source of good blog material in this household.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to run to the drug store. Maw Maw needs a new pair of reading glasses.

School's Out For Summer

2010-06-02T00:29:00.000-05:00

We are officially in full swing of summer and I'm loving it. I love being able to sleep in, hang out in our pj's, go swimming, look for bugs, make crafts, get root beer floats from Sonic on a whim and eat Popsicles at lunch.

This time of year reminds me of what I loved about summer (besides not having to go to school) both in elementary school and in high school.

Here are a few of them:

1. Hanging out with friends in my neighborhood until my curfew (when the street lights came on.) Sadly, we can't let our kids do the same thing.

2. Going bare foot.

3. Days at the neighborhood pool, eating a bag of Hot Fries and drinking a Coke over crushed ice in a flimsy Styrofoam cup. I loved how my fingers were still wet from swimming and the seasoning from the Hot Fries stuck to them.

(Hot Fries being the ones that come in the bag and are really chemically laden potato chip thingies shaped like fries.)

4. Digging in the dirt.

5. Collecting roly polies. Yes, I needed a better hobby.

6. The ice cream truck.

7. In high school, going to my friend's house to lay out by her pool after slathering on baby oil and spraying our hair with Sun In. EEEEEEK! Scary.

8. Lunch at home, preferably some sort of Chef Boyardee.

9. Church camp.

10. Making homemade ice cream, the old-fashioned way with the hand crank churn. Good ice cream requires the sweat of a patient dad and the help of an eager kid.

11. Vacation Bible School.

12. Summer music and movies

What about you? What do you love about summer now and when you were a kid?

How Do You Remember?

2010-05-31T00:54:00.001-05:00

Do you wave your flag in front of your home

Wear a lapel pin or an Old Navy t-shirt

Do you sip a slurpee or a snow cone

While waiting for your neighbor to grill you a dog

Do you hit the sales for all of the deals

Stop in at Wal-mart for some patriotic cookies

Do you buy a swimsuit in red, white and blue

And wait in the long line, thumbing through People

Do you drive past the cemetery

See the tiny flags waving in the wind

Do you think about the ones who rest

Beneath the decorated graves

Do place your hand on your heart

When the anthem plays

Do you exercise your right to vote

The one that they protect

Do you honor them for their sacrifice

While you enjoy the freedoms they provide

Do you remember

That they are the ones who died to keep your freedom alive

No matter how you choose to remember this Memorial Day- during a ceremony, a trip to Wal-mart, or time with friends in celebration of our many freedoms, take a moment to honor the fallen and to thank the ones still with us who fight for our country each and every day.

God Bless Our Troops.

Remembering My Gulf Coast

2010-05-28T17:31:00.028-05:00

This week, when my husband was flying home, he sent me a text that read, "Greta Van Susteren is on the plane. What do you want me to tell her?"

Actually he said "Greta Van Sustenance" because he loves to play with names, his attempt at subtle humor, but that isn't really relevant.

I wrote back,"Tell her thank you for her fair coverage and ask her to be diligent in covering the oil spill. No one else is covering it."

He briefly passed along my thanks and left out the rest. (She was gracious, by the way.)

After I wrote him my request, I thought, "Wow, I've resorted to reaching out to the press. That's pretty desperate."

But desperate times call for...

The truth is that I'm angry. Okay. I'm mad. Spit nails kind of mad.

It hurts to see photos of dolphins washing up on a Mississippi beach, pelicans covered in an unknown brown substance, and aerial photos of liquid spewing from the depths of the Gulf of Mexico.

I want to clinch my fist and shake it in the air.

I want to jump on a plane and show up on a beach, pen in hand, ready to sign up for HazMat training.

Today I found the blog carnival of Mommy Melee and I knew it was finally something I could do.

Tell my story...

The Gulf Coast.

It is the place I long to be when my lips are parched and my skin is dry in this small town of New Mexico.

The memories keep me going when I miss my home, The South.

I still smell the freshly caught red snapper on chartered boats named "High Cotton" and "Miss Elizabeth" dotted along the docks in Destin.

I taste fried shrimp and hot hush puppies dipped in cold ketchup.

I see the water tower at Pensacola Beach, shrimp boats in the bay under morning sunshine.

I spot a shell, yards away, along a sugar white beach, and run towards it before the tide rolls in, and the tiny shell disappears into the emerald waters.

I watch as my daughter steps into the salty,warm water, one toddler toe at a time, and falls in love with the place I hold dear to my heart.

I see the dunes destroyed by Hurricanes Opal, Erin, Ivan, and Dennis.

I see the great people of the coast rebuild them, along with their homes and businesses.

I hear the wind through the sea oats as my bare feet plod on the boardwalk that protects them.

I listen as seagulls fight over fiddler crabs and water laps over dock pilings.

I feel sand on my skin. It sticks to me and I brush it off with baby powder (a beachcomber's secret.)

I turn to find my towel has been wet by the incoming tide and I don't care. It means the sun will set soon and I can watch it fade below the horizon as dolphins make their last run to feed in shallow waters.

I gather my things- sunglasses, cover-up, an empty Pringles can, leftover bottled water, and walk back to the car, burned from the sun in the places I missed with sunscreen.

I turn around for one last look before we head home with our bucket of shells and broken sand dollars.

The beautiful Gulf Coast.

It has endured thousands of footsteps of tacky tourists in flimsy flip flops, spring breakers in air-brushed t-shirts, and many storms.

It has recovered.

It has survived.

I pray it will again, and that all we will have left of this great coast is not just memories.

Related Links:

A few of my posts about the coast I love, including the one featured by SouthernLiving.Com.

The Florida Panhandle: A Southern Tradition
Don't Try This At Home

Be sure to read more posts over at the carnival:

Mommy Melee's Blog Carnival

A story with a twister.

2010-05-28T12:15:00.006-05:00

Tuesday was interesting here in SmallTown. We often complain about the lack of entertainment. I guess God was listening.

Daughter and I were up at church with some friends decorating a room for a kids' Wednesday night program. It was a relaxing moment of scenes outlined on butcher paper, buckets of paint, sponge brushes, and giggling kids pleading to help.

The kids got bored and ran down the hall only to run right back in the room.

"The sirens are going off and it's REALLY, REALLY dark outside!"

There were tears and furrowed brows and three very relaxed moms still painting Egyptian pyramids and palm trees.

"It's probably one of the tests they do each week. It looks sunny outside to us."

On our side of the building.

"But it's REALLY, REALLY dark outside!"

We brushed it off at first, then one of the moms called her husband at work. He shared that there was a tornado warning, that a small funnel had been spotted south of town.

And I just dipped my brush in the most beautiful blue.

Soon, the pastor came upstairs to share the same news.

So we all headed to the basement, two-by-two, coaxing and soothing the kids that all would be fine. This was only a precaution.

Actually I believe my exact words were, "It'll be fine. We're just using the brain God gave us and taking shelter."

Once we were all safe, we gathered candles, a radio, cell phones with Internet access and maintained our post. I texted Nancy who was also at her church. She was safe, waiting it out.

Then I sent Hubs a text. He was flying home from a business trip and I was scheduled to drive to the next town to pick him up from the airport.

Our record of texting has not been good lately, so I decided I'd better be clear and concise.

"We are in the basement at church. Tornado warning."

"Is the teacher telling you all to be quiet? Why do you have to be quiet? Does noise attract tornadoes?"

"No, we're the teachers... church members are arriving."

"WARNING or WATCH?"

"Warning."

The texts continued. I told him he'd have to wait for me to pick him up. It's fairly difficult to drive to the next town when you are taking shelter in a basement.

Hubs finally had to board the plane and TOTP when I was able to tell him we had a break between storm cells and I could get home. I eventually left the house and drove to NextTown, away from the storms.

But not until I grabbed my camera. I'm such a nerd.

The weather on my drive was perfect. The bad weather was at my back and I suddenly felt like those people in that movie who were being chased by a tornado.

We picked up Hubs at the airport, returned home to a house still standing, the power on, and all was well with our little corner of the world.

I didn't get any cool pictures to share with you. Drat.

Oh well, my camera isn't designed to take photos from a ditch. The angle really kills the zoom capabilities.

Random Dozen

2010-05-25T00:52:00.005-05:00

1. Would you rather host party or simply attend a party?

Hosting stresses me a bit. I like to attend or maybe co-host at someone else's house. I love the decorating and cooking, but combining that with cleaning, prepping, and all the etc. is overwhelming at times. I'm more comfortable with a few friends or couples over instead of a large group.

Kids' birthday parties at my house, however? Easy peasy.

2. Tell us about the most memorable party you've been to.

Nancy and her husband hosted a murder mystery dinner at Halloween one year. Hubs and I went, along with another couple. We were all supposed to dress up as our characters. Well, Hubs and I went a little over the top and the rest of them looked completely normal. Party poopers.

3. What is one thing you hope for in the after-life?

Besides seeing Jesus, no pain.

4. What do you enjoy most about sunshine?

The way it makes me feel.

5. When you attend a bridal/baby shower, do you prefer to bring your own gift or chip in with others to buy a larger gift?

I am not a fan of the chip in, unless it is a going away type gift from a group or a large purchase the receive really wants. I prefer to buy my own gift and put a personal spin on it, if I can.

6. Would you rather have a FREE week of having your house cleaned or all of your meals cooked for you and your family?

This is tough. I would love to have someone clean my house, but the thought of someone else cleaning my dirt is a little invasive for me. I would like the meals, please. Although, they have to wear a hairnet so Hubs can eat.

Thank you.

7. What song describes your mood today?

After a tornado scare yesterday- "It's The End Of The World As We Know It"

And I feel fine.

8. What is something you received for your own bridal shower/wedding that you still own or use? (If you are not married, feel free to sub a gift you received a long time ago.)

I still have a lot of the gifts that were given to us. There is one crystal vase that I use often. It was part of a set from a group of great ladies- a really good chip in gift!

9. Your favorite flavor of ice cream is?

Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey.

If I can't get that, then Rocky Road is my favorite general flavor.

10. When was the last time you felt "tested?"

Last time? You mean other people don't feel tested on a daily basis?
Wow. And may I add that I usually do not pass.

11. "[Fill in the blank] is a food that once I start eating I find really hard to stop."

Boiled Peanuts.

Yes, m'am.

12. "-----" is the best motivation.

Necessity

See Lid for more great posts this week! Don't miss her Lost party pictures. (love the dirt monster)

If he was Spongebob the arm would have just grown back.

2010-05-24T21:54:00.008-05:00

Things are a little busy at our house.

So, pardon me as I resort to lists and clever online quizzes this week.

1. Every time The Fugitive is on, I am compelled to watch it, even though I know he will eventually find the One Armed Man and realize he was betrayed by a friend.

Don't get mad at me for revealing the plot. If you haven't seen it by now (the original or the remake,) you must live under a rock or something.

2. The Fugitive is on as much as Spongebob.

3. Which makes it great because I can switch between them during commercials.

4. A few other movies I am compelled to watch, no matter how many times I've seen them or when they are on:

Bridges of Madison County
Dirty Dancing
A League of Their Own
Fried Green Tomatoes
Top Gun
Sleeping With The Enemy

To name a few.

5. What about you? What movie can't you resist?

6. Here's another question for you-

Harrison Ford or Tommy Lee Jones?

I'll give you my answer in the next post. :>)

What kind of book are you?

2010-05-23T23:27:00.001-05:00

Here are my results. Love this. Take the quiz with the link below.

You Are Humor

You love to laugh at life, and if possible, get others to laugh along with you.

You believe there's always a humorous side to everything. And your sense of humor ranges from upbeat to very dark.

You are outrageous and very honest. You're often the only one willing to say what everyone else is thinking.

You are witty and verbally talented. You like to play with words and say things in interesting ways.

What Kind of Book Are You?

Blogthings: Waste Time at Work!

More Things I Don't Understand: Subliminal Confusion

2010-05-20T11:10:00.004-05:00

Y'all know I sit and wonder about things that baffle my mind. It happens a lot. It doesn't take much to confuse me.

1. According to a commercial I just watched, there is a cereal I can eat for two solid weeks that will take a whole inch off my waist. They call it Special K, but they don't realize I need Extra, Extra Special K and a lot longer than two weeks.

2. Why don't they just name it "The Cereal Women Eat When They Have To Get In A Bathing Suit?"

3. I realize that I want to make anything Paula Deen cooks as long as she looks at the camera and laughs.

4. A lot of companies are using babies and children in their ads because they know we love babies and children, as long as they aren't screaming in Wal-mart.

5. Funny, I haven't noticed any Wal-mart commercials featuring talking babies and disappointed kids without ponies.

6. My grandmother never owned a pair of sneakers. Grasshoppers were as close to athletic wear that her feet ever touched. I have no idea what made me think of that.

7. After our misadventure at the steak place, I realize waiters and waitresses are simply the middle men (or women) between us and the kitchen. Sometimes they are like the florist who shows up at your door with a dozen long-stemmed roses. Sometimes they are the negotiators in a hostage situation.

8. I suddenly want some nice roses for the dining table and a well-prepared, (no toppings, please) New York Strip.

9. I was going for 10, but we'll have to settle for 9. It will drive you OCD readers crazy, and I kinda love that a little.

10. So, I caved. My grandmother never wore sneakers, and she taught me never to offend. Or make people crazy.

Have a Special day.

Linda's Random Dozen; Quirks and Percolators

2010-05-19T09:57:00.005-05:00

So, I'm sitting here answering Lid's Random Dozen for the week and watching Regis and Kelly. Kelly is wearing a horizontally striped skirt. Horizontal stripes on the bottom. Only she could pull that off. Even a Barber Pole has stripes at an angle.

Here are Lid's awesome questions.

1. What is one really fast, know-by-heart "go-to" meal to fix in a pinch?
It is usually tacos. I can brown ground beef and chop lettuce and tomato with lightning speed. I also make fried rice when I'm low on ingredients. For the best fried rice, use your electric griddle. No wok needed. (I got that suggestion from a friend, not bright enough to think of it on my own.)

2. What is one item you won't leave home without. (Purse and license do not count.)
You are thinking cell phone, right? Nope. Lipstick. It is the American Express of my life. Can't leave home without it.

3. Where is one place you never tire of visiting?
Destin, Florida. The waves are calling me now. The Oil Spill threatens those white beaches as I type and I hope and pray they survive. As of now, they are fine.

4. Share one factoid of your family's history.
I had a great, great, great someoneorother who was in the War of 1812.

5. Complete this sentence: "Once upon a time I ....had a waist."

6. If you could win a one year's supply of anything, what would it be?
Diet Coke. If I lived somewhere else, I'd say Starbucks. Since I have to drive two hours to get to one, I'd also have to win a year's supply of gas.

7. "One quirky thing you may not know about me is ...."
Just one? I like to sit in the aisle on an airplane. The window seat is too close to the outside for me. It works out well in my family because no one else likes the aisle. I just have to watch for that drink cart. Ouch.

8. You have one dollar in your pocket. What will you buy?
I wish I could say Diet Coke, but this isn't the 80's any more. I'll probably use it to tip the barrista at Starbucks after I drive 2 hours for my non-fat, venti mocha, add the whip. Or I could put a drop of gas in my car to get there.

9. "One thing that always makes me laugh is ....Linda's blog. Seriously."

10. What is one thing you could do today to help yourself reach a personal goal?
Hop off here and into Word and start writing.

11. What is one thing you could do today to bless someone else?
Send a note to a friend, clean up the house, put away clothes. Funny, we don't think of our daily chores as blessing others, but they do in small ways.

12. What is one thing you're looking forward to soon?
Vacation to #3

Our Little Outing: Part Two

2010-05-18T15:15:00.005-05:00

You all thought our Sunday ended with cherry limeade stains and sore feet. Oh, sweet friends, how I wish you were right.

Hubs had planned for our day of geocaching to end in a nice steak dinner. I don't know if he was really in the mood for steak or just thought the suggestion of taking me out for dinner would encourage me to go treasure hunting. You know, kind of like dangling the carrot, only it was a fillet Mignon.

I brushed my hair in the car and dusted off my boots before we went in, something I never thought I'd do before a dinner out. However, in SmallTown country, many people wear boots to dinner. I just decided to clean mine with the leftover Wet Ones.

'Cause I'm fancy.

After a good dab of face powder and a swipe of lipstick in the car, I was ready.

We got a table, ordered, and waited for our salads. I chose the salad bar and Hubs and Daughter chose the Caesar. When their salads arrived, I was doubtful.

I could tell the romaine was not fresh. Not bad, but not good either. I noticed Hubs not eating his salad.

"I smell fish," he said.

"Well, Caesar salad does have anchovy paste in the dressing," I said, "but I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to have so much that you actually notice."

That's when we noticed.

Anchovies.

Now, I'm no expert, but most of the Caesar salads I've had do not feature the whole fish. It puts it a little over the top. We all three agreed that Hubs and Daughter should not eat their salads.

Our waiter Tom noticed, too. Maybe the fact that Hubs and Daughter were just sitting there staring at their salads gave it away. He offered to get them new ones, but they declined and ate the bread.

The main entrees arrived including catfish (called the Kiddie Catfish, which we named KittyCat Fish) for Daughter, New York Strip for Hubs and a Fillet for me. Hubs' plate barely touched the table when he saw it.

A hair.

Tom checked on us and Hubs pointed to the unwanted topping.

"I am so sorry, let me bring you another one."

"No, thanks."

"No, really. I'll have them make you another steak."

This is when I chimed in.

"You don't know. I am sure he's lost his appetite."

"Yes," Hubs said,"I have this thing about hair on my food."

Poor Tom The Waiter took away the hair with the steak around it and walked away. Meanwhile, Daughter was halfway through her KittyCat Fish dinner. I began to apologize and comfort Hubs profusely, even though there was nothing I could do.

Then I cut into my steak.

It mooed.

Tom came back to our table when I said, "I really hate to do this to you, but my steak is not cooked enough. I ordered Medium Well and this is really Medium. It's a little runny."

At this point Tom realized why this waiter gig was only a part time job to get him through college and not an actual career choice.

Tom took away my steak and potato and returned moments later with a correctly cooked steak.

And no potato.

Apparently the cook decided I didn't need one and must have thrown it away as he threw my fillet back on the grill.

"Um, could I have a potato?" I asked.

Tom apologized once again, not noticing the kitchen's mistake. He offered to bring me another one.

Minutes later he returned, "The potato will take a while. I can bring you something else that is quicker if you want, but I don't want you to settle for something if that's not what you want."

Oh, we're way past settling now, Tom.

"Bring me mashed potatoes, fries, whatever. It doesn't matter. Really. This is not your fault. This is all the kitchen's fault."

Tom obliged and I quickly ate my mashed potatoes. He returned with a dessert menu, which is the restaurant's version of a peace offering.

"How about a complimentary dessert for all of your trouble?" he asked.

We all declined. Well, Hubs and I declined. Daughter pleaded with us to get dessert, but even free dessert wouldn't make us cave. At this point, we just wanted to pay our discounted check, tip Tom for his patience with us and the chefs (he was incredibly professional, considering the kitchen issues,) and go home.

The very next day I made Hubs roast and mashed potatoes for dinner. Hey, it's not New York Strip or anchovy salad, but I am happy to report it was hair and fish odor free.

I try.

They say this is how Columbus stumbled on America.

2010-05-17T10:41:00.008-05:00

Hubs and Daughter have discovered a new hobby. Geocaching. If you don't know what that is, I'll give you a brief description.

Geocaching uses Al Gore's Internet and GPS technology to help normal people like you and me find little treasures (or caches) tucked under boxwoods in city parks and inside overgrown weeds on the side of the road.

Most of the containers look like green metal thingies that could be featured on the Military Channel. Some of the items inside are pretty cool, but most of them look like the leftover items from VBS treasure boxes and really bad birthday party treat bags.

The fun is in the hunt. And in the fact that you do find that one really cool coin or toy among all the stretchy lizards and broken, miniature paddle balls.

Yesterday they decided to take me along. I have issues with being in strange places and with sticking my hand in strange containers with stranger objects, but I thought it would be fun to go along and I didn't want to be a buzz kill.

Everybody hates a mama who is a buzz kill.

Daughter told me what to wear, "The same thing you would wear to horseback- long pants and boots."

Which meant, "There may be snakes."

Thanks for the tip.

So, I went. I brought my Diet Coke for hydration and comfort. Hubs packed us all some bottled water. Daughter packed the Official Family Geocaching notebook.

Hubs brought along Nancy's portable GPS system, the kind in which you punch in the coordinates and then look at the arrow. Only you can't really look at the arrow and the road, so he had to depend on me looking at the arrow while he looked at the road.

Hubs- "Okay, where do we go next?"

Me- "S Avenue. We're on D."

Minutes later.

Me-"Oh, wait. It's SOUTH Avenue E. Not S."

Hubs- "Where to now? Right or left?"

Me- "I don't know."

Hubs- "I gotta do something here."

Me- "Okay.... left."

You have to understand that I can read a map. But I was dealing with the portable GPS, the arrow, and the Google map Hubs had printed for us which did not have all the streets on it. Streets are helpful while you are, you know, driving.

We managed to find several caches. Our first was on the side of a road where I discovered a stray cat. Hubs and Daughter continued to search for the cache while I abandoned them and went to the car for some pet food I keep stashed in the back. The cat ran off, but I left food out for him anyway.

You can see why they never invited me before.

Our second discovery was on the edge of a curb, in front of a house. According to the Geocache rules and description, we had permission to search and there was no need to go through any gates. For Paranoid Me, it was dangerously close to trespassing, so I stayed in the car.

(I can hear Nancy laughing right now.)

Our next two caches were in a park. Ok, this I can do.

As we walked, I was again distracted by an animal. This time, a prairie dog, which is not necessarily a treasure, but, according to local cowboys, is a big rat.

By the time we found the prairie dog cache, I was tired, hot and thirsty. My Diet Coke was long gone and I had slurped down two of the bottles of water, reserving the last for Daughter. I convinced Hubs to take a detour to Sonic for some necessary provisions.

We pulled in and Hubs ordered a round of limeades. Cranberry for him, strawberry for Daughter, and cherry for me. When the car hop arrived, Hubs handed Daughter her drink, then put our limeades on the console as he turned to pay.

I turned around to do something and my elbow knocked over my entire cherry limeade, spilling it all in the back floorboard.

You can imagine the trauma. I mean, I was really, really thirsty. Not to mention the HUGE CHERRY STAIN on the back floor mat.

Hubs had pulled too close to the menu board, so I was the only one who could hop out of the car. I ran around, grabbed a blanket and began to sop, hanging my feet and legs out of the car. The sweet car hop brought me another drink as I quickly cleaned up the mess with the blanket, a box of Wet Ones, and a sample of Viva paper towels.

It was very stressful.

We recovered from what will no doubt become known as the Unfortunate Cherry Limeade Incident and moved on to our last cache hunt- a multi.

A multi means you follow coordinates to find the next location, and so on. Eventually, you find the geocache at the end.

Translation- You walk in your boots for a very long time and realize these boots weren't made for walking.

There may or may not have been an incident of Hubs jumping a fence and there may or may not have been an incident of me whining about my poor, blistered, snake-protected feet. The last treasure turned out to be the best one, even if I did have to walk a sweet forever.

And by sweet, I mean the kind of sweet you find at the bottom of a Sonic cherry limeade or, in my case, the bottom of my back floorboard.

I'm so glad I didn't get the Route 44.

When texting goes horribly, horribly wrong.

2010-05-14T00:04:00.001-05:00

On his way home from New Jersey, Hubs decided to text me his travel updates. The funny thing is, he always snickers at those husbands at baggage claim who call their wives. You know the ones. They call before they board. They call as soon as they land. They call when they get their luggage. It's really obnoxious.

However, texting the same information is not. Obnoxious. Nope. Not at all.

And denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

So anyway.

Hubs knows I worry. I realize he is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but he also has a tendency to get lost or, at the very least, not have any cash. This is all despite the fact that I am certain that his mother taught him never to leave the house without cash. Yes, he is a grown man, but I love him dearly and worry because I love him.

Plus, I am a paranoid person and worry is in my blood, much like the butter I slather on biscuits.

On his way back home, Hubs sent me a series of text updates, in abbreviated forms. Apparently, I am not as hip as I have allowed myself to believe.

"All Aboard"- No interpretation needed.

"OTG @ DFW"- On the ground at Dallas Fort Worth.

Pretty easy, eh?

"OTP, TOTP"

Huh?

Think, think. "OTP"- On the plane...

Within minutes of his text, his mom called to see if I had heard from him. I shared the texts with her, minus the TOTP part, and that I thought he'd be home late. We talked and caught up and then I got off the phone.

My brain returned to TOTP. It was driving me nuts. Since TOTP, he had not texted me again and I was certain that he would have landed by then and surely was driving home.

I texted back.

"Where R U?"

No answer.

By now it was late and I was tired.

"TOTP"... texting on the plane?

OH. NO. Terrorist On The Plane.

My Common Sense Self kept tapping my Paranoid Self on the shoulder saying,"NO WAY. He is fine. You're nuts. You're tired. Besides, you're nuts."

But, then my Paranoid Self turned around and pepper sprayed my Common Sense Self and took over.

What do I do? Is he going to text me and ask me to call our FBI friend?

Tap, tap. SPRAY. My Common Sense Self cowered away.

FINALLY, Hubs walked in the door. He was perfectly fine. I asked him what TOTP is supposed to mean.

"Turning off the phone," he said, "I made it up."

"You can't make up acronyms without sharing them with me! Do you know what I thought it said? I thought you meant terrorist on the plane!"

"Sorry. If there had been, my text would have been 'STD."

"STD?"

"Saving The Day."

"Okay, but you may want to come up with a new one because that is not what most people think about when they hear that abbreviation."

"Oh, yeah. I guess not."

Maybe we should go back to two Dixie cups and a piece of string.

It's our love language.

2010-05-12T09:13:00.007-05:00

Last year, Hubs gave me a new cell phone for my birthday. I may have mentioned it here a time or two, but since I'm overly informative ( I just made that up) I'll mention it again. This new phone has a real keypad instead of a telephone-style keypad so I can text without doing Calculus.

If I knew how to do Calculus.

Hubs also programmed a few ringtones for me. My ringtone for texts is the Seinfeld theme song, which is perfect since Hubs is usually the one sending me a text. My regular (is that what you call it?) ringtone is "I Think You're Crazy," which, sadly, is also perfect.

The reason I love this new phone is because now I can actually stay in touch with Hubs. When he is at work he can't have a real conversation, what with the fact that he is earning money so we can have food on the table and so Maggie can live in her posh existence. Sending a text is quick and convenient.

Hubs has been on a trip across the country. We had a death in the family and he went to be with relatives and attend the services. Daughter and I stayed home but, thanks to the wonderful world of texting, we stayed in touch.

This blog is beginning to sound like a bad AT&T commercial.

On Monday, while I was escaping SmallTown, Hubs was in New Jersey. He forgot that I was going to face The Loop in Lubbock and sent me a text.

Seinfeld began to play loudly from my purse. We were in the middle of Barnes and Noble, which is one step away from the library. I quickly hit OK and read his message.

"Who was the farthest relative at your grandmother's funeral?"

I suppose you thought he was going to tell me loved me and missed me and couldn't wait to be home. You obviously are new to this blog.

I stood there next to copies of The Borrowers and every book Beverly Cleary ever wrote while Hubs continued to text me with questions. I continued to answer, thinking to myself that I'd become one of those people who text in public. You know, middle schoolers.

All the while, people in Barnes and Noble were purchasing Seinfeld DVDs in droves with no idea why.

We arrived at the check-out counter and I handed the phone to Daughter. In hindsight, I should have turned off the phone, but instead asked her to quickly answer it if Seinfeld again began to play. I managed to pay and get out of the store before he sent me the following text.

"Caskets go for $2500. Urns are $300."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not saying... I'm just sayin."

He went on to say that he could save money and hire Cyndi Lauper or Lisa Lisa to sing at my funeral who, oddly are his favorite singers from the 80's.

This is our strange way of telling each other, "I love you and times like these remind me of how precious you are."

The texts finally stopped until I was on the road home. When I stopped for gas, I read and answered the rest of them. We bantered back and forth until I wrote, "I have to drive now."

I climbed in the car and turned to Daughter as she opened the ring pop she bought inside the convenience store.

As I tucked my cell phone back in my purse, I said, "I think Daddy misses us."

Driving the last leg home, I thought about the years we have behind us, filled with Seinfeld quotes and ringtones and strange love notes that other people would find odd.

Moves across the country, romantic anniversaries, the birth of a child, silly nights on the sofa, and goofy texts at the bookstore and the gas station.

I thought about the many years I hope we have ahead of us, filled with laughter and tears and all the things that make this marriage ours.

And the fact that I'm totally hiring Rick Springfield to sing at Hubs' funeral.

Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!

2010-05-10T20:54:00.002-05:00

Daughter and I drove to Lubbock today to escape SmallTown. The peach milkshake at Chick-Fil-A has been calling our names for weeks and it was high time we answered.

Two words about Lubbock.

The Loop.

The loop is a bypass built by nearsighted engineers who decided it would be fun to scare out-of-town drivers. Rumor has it that the locals stay off the loop because it is easier to get around town. I still have not been able to navigate around town, but today was the day I got motivated to learn.

Once you are on the loop, you have no idea which direction you are going. I have a keen sense of direction and, for me, it's like putting a feed sack over my head, spinning me around, and then asking me to pin something on a donkey. Yes, it is exactly like that. You go in circles and the whole thing makes you dizzy.

Getting on and off the loop is a whole 'nother issue. It seems that these same engineers decided it would be fun to design off ramps that you exit before you arrive at the actual road. When I want to get to Quaker, I exit at Indiana. When I want to get to Indiana, I exit in New Mexico. Oh, I kid. Sort of.

Then there's the Marsha Sharp Freeway. I had no idea who Ms. Sharp was until I Googled it. I began to imagine that she was a crazed, old woman who liked to scare small children or the mothers of small children, because that is exactly what the freeway honoring her memory does.

As it turns out, she was some kind of coach at Texas Tech and I am sure she was a lovely woman. However, this should be a lesson to us all not to let any nearsighted engineers build a road after us.

Once I am on the Marsha Sharp, I am fine. Getting there is the issue. Depending on which way I'm traveling on The Loop, I have to remember which way to exit to head in the right direction on the Marsha.

At first, I exited one way, then wound up the opposite direction. I turned around, headed back, passed a million construction barrels, and pressed on.

You see, desperate times force us to face our most dreadful fears. I faced down the Marsha with one destination in mind- New Target.

If I'm going to drive for hours through cow country and dust storms, I'm not going to any old Target. Only the new one will do. Oh, you could try to tell me that the old Target has all the same things that the new one has, but I beg to differ, friend. The new one is fresher, nicer, and it has Starbucks.

So, I conquered The Loop and The Marsha. No fear prevented this mama from finding cute flip flops attached with elastic string, Archer Farms snacks, and Circo t-shirts.

I'm wearing my seat belt and I've got my GPS on.

Bring it, nearsighted engineers.

No Fear.