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!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
My Maggie
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.
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, June 18, 2010
Friday's Fave Five- Summer and Soccer
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 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!
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
And I really miss Bob Barker.
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?
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?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Honey, is that the World Cup or a Hitchcock Movie?
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...
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...
Friday, June 11, 2010
You could say I'm a shrimp radical.
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.
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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
What is that sound of crickets chirping in the distance?
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."
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."
Sunday, June 06, 2010
Next weekend we document our Activia challenge.
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 02, 2010
School's Out For Summer
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?
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?
Monday, May 31, 2010
How Do You Remember?
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.
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.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Remembering My Gulf Coast
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.
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 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 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:
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 story with a twister.
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
More ramblings and my answer to Monday's question.
It's only Wednesday?
1. We are winding down with school. Friday is our last official day. Yeah!! I'll take a nap as my teacher's gift, thankyouverymuch.
2. Later I will write my adventures from Tuesday, but I'm too tired to type it now. (Hint- It involves a funnel cloud.)
3. I went to a Japanese restaurant tonight and I suwanee they put sleeping powders in my fried rice. They also put way too much salt and, before I got home, I had swelled up like a toad.
Attractive.
4. This is the time of year I wish I had a pool.
5. Tomorrow is yard day at hour house. Blech.
6. I take back #4. This is the time of year I wish I had a friend who has a pool.
7. The answer to Monday's question, to some of you readers' chagrin-
Tommy Lee Jones
Hope your week is going well or you at least have a friend with a pool.
1. We are winding down with school. Friday is our last official day. Yeah!! I'll take a nap as my teacher's gift, thankyouverymuch.
2. Later I will write my adventures from Tuesday, but I'm too tired to type it now. (Hint- It involves a funnel cloud.)
3. I went to a Japanese restaurant tonight and I suwanee they put sleeping powders in my fried rice. They also put way too much salt and, before I got home, I had swelled up like a toad.
Attractive.
4. This is the time of year I wish I had a pool.
5. Tomorrow is yard day at hour house. Blech.
6. I take back #4. This is the time of year I wish I had a friend who has a pool.
7. The answer to Monday's question, to some of you readers' chagrin-
Tommy Lee Jones
Hope your week is going well or you at least have a friend with a pool.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Random Dozen
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)
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)
Monday, May 24, 2010
If he was Spongebob the arm would have just grown back.
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. :>)
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. :>)
Sunday, May 23, 2010
What kind of book are you?
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. |
Thursday, May 20, 2010
More Things I Don't Understand: Subliminal Confusion
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Linda's Random Dozen; Quirks and Percolators
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
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
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Our Little Outing: Part Two
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.
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.
Monday, May 17, 2010
They say this is how Columbus stumbled on America.
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.
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.
Friday, May 14, 2010
When texting goes horribly, horribly wrong.
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
It's our love language.
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.
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.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!
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.
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.
Friday, May 07, 2010
Remembering Mothers
Mother's Day is almost here.
It's time for the kids to get out the crayons and make memories, for husbands to rush to the store to help them buy a gift, and for grown sons and daughters to set aside time to call Mom.
It's also a sad time for many out there who have lost a mother.
Some have lost a mother long ago. Some have recently said good-bye.
For all the sons and daughters who miss their mothers this holiday, may you hold the memories with your mother as tightly as you held those freshly picked flowers from the yard.
"Mothers hold their children's hands for a short while, but their hearts forever. "
Author Unknown
It's time for the kids to get out the crayons and make memories, for husbands to rush to the store to help them buy a gift, and for grown sons and daughters to set aside time to call Mom.
It's also a sad time for many out there who have lost a mother.
Some have lost a mother long ago. Some have recently said good-bye.
For all the sons and daughters who miss their mothers this holiday, may you hold the memories with your mother as tightly as you held those freshly picked flowers from the yard.
"Mothers hold their children's hands for a short while, but their hearts forever. "
Author Unknown
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Random: Yet another list in which I write about naps.
1. What was the last thing about which you procrastinated?
Folding clothes and putting them away. The laundry basket is leering at me as I type.
2. How long does it take you to fall asleep, and do you sleep through the night?
It depends. I can usually fall asleep within 30 minutes unless I have something on my mind. I can sleep through the night if Hubs doesn't come home from work late and disturb the happenings in the house.
At some point, Maggie often sneaks up there on my feet. Somehow, she manages to not wake me up and I find her there in the morning. This is how cats steal your breath.
3. Which decade would you choose to exemplify your favorite fashion styles?
I guess the 90's. I have been so behind in fashion for so long, I don't even see the difference in the decades.
4. What is your personal best dish to feed a crowd?
Best? I don't know. I like making stuffed manicotti, enchiladas or chili for a big group. Some of my favorite dishes for my family are Chicken Georgia, pot roast, and fried chicken tenders.
5. Are you an impulse shopper? What was the last thing you bought on impulse?
Notsomuch. The only thing I may buy on impulse is a cute pair of flip flops. I hate to try on clothes and hate returning things even more, so I tend to not impulse purchase clothing. Maybe a simple t-shirt, but that's it.
6. What is one wish you have for your own funeral?
I won't know what's going on, so it won't matter. I just hope things go smoothly for my family and that Hubs remembers to write thank-you notes. Ahem.
7. If it's true that joy is in found in the simple things in life, what does your joy look like today?
It would look like a nap if I had time for one. Today is a busy day for me. On normal days, it looks like a glass of sweet tea as I sit in the glider on the porch.
8. What is your favorite type of bread?
Really good biscuits straight from the oven. I also love the bread you get before your salad comes at all the steak restaurants. You know, the little loaf on the cutting board with the huge knife.
9. What trait do you fear developing the most? (Laziness, greediness, grumpiness, etc.)
Selfishness
10. What trait would you like most to develop?
A little bit of a sense of adventure. Not TOO much. I don't want to go overboard.
11. Which room in your house best reflects your personality? Why?
My bedroom. It has my favorite furniture, beach-like bedding, a print of Charleston's Rainbow Row, and all the things that remind me of a Southern B&B.
12. How do you maintain balance in your life regarding, work, family, church, other organizations and activities, and blogging?
I don't. But I do try.
See Lid for dozens of dozens!
Folding clothes and putting them away. The laundry basket is leering at me as I type.
2. How long does it take you to fall asleep, and do you sleep through the night?
It depends. I can usually fall asleep within 30 minutes unless I have something on my mind. I can sleep through the night if Hubs doesn't come home from work late and disturb the happenings in the house.
At some point, Maggie often sneaks up there on my feet. Somehow, she manages to not wake me up and I find her there in the morning. This is how cats steal your breath.
3. Which decade would you choose to exemplify your favorite fashion styles?
I guess the 90's. I have been so behind in fashion for so long, I don't even see the difference in the decades.
4. What is your personal best dish to feed a crowd?
Best? I don't know. I like making stuffed manicotti, enchiladas or chili for a big group. Some of my favorite dishes for my family are Chicken Georgia, pot roast, and fried chicken tenders.
5. Are you an impulse shopper? What was the last thing you bought on impulse?
Notsomuch. The only thing I may buy on impulse is a cute pair of flip flops. I hate to try on clothes and hate returning things even more, so I tend to not impulse purchase clothing. Maybe a simple t-shirt, but that's it.
6. What is one wish you have for your own funeral?
I won't know what's going on, so it won't matter. I just hope things go smoothly for my family and that Hubs remembers to write thank-you notes. Ahem.
7. If it's true that joy is in found in the simple things in life, what does your joy look like today?
It would look like a nap if I had time for one. Today is a busy day for me. On normal days, it looks like a glass of sweet tea as I sit in the glider on the porch.
8. What is your favorite type of bread?
Really good biscuits straight from the oven. I also love the bread you get before your salad comes at all the steak restaurants. You know, the little loaf on the cutting board with the huge knife.
9. What trait do you fear developing the most? (Laziness, greediness, grumpiness, etc.)
Selfishness
10. What trait would you like most to develop?
A little bit of a sense of adventure. Not TOO much. I don't want to go overboard.
11. Which room in your house best reflects your personality? Why?
My bedroom. It has my favorite furniture, beach-like bedding, a print of Charleston's Rainbow Row, and all the things that remind me of a Southern B&B.
12. How do you maintain balance in your life regarding, work, family, church, other organizations and activities, and blogging?
I don't. But I do try.
See Lid for dozens of dozens!
And I'll bet she's wearing matching shoes.
In yesterday's Random Dozen, Linda asked us about funeral preferences. In Linda's post, she said she wanted a closed casket. This reminded me of the many funerals I have attended in my lifetime.
You're probably wondering, "How many people does she know?"
Not that many.
The truth is that Mama took me with her to funerals of people I didn't know, people I kinda knew, people I was related to, people I was kinda related to, and people I kinda knew and was related to.
Daddy was often at work. You can't always get a sitter on Tuesdays at 3:00 in the afternoon. So Mama just took me with her.
My people believe in funerals. When someone dies, you go to the service and at the very least, the visitation the night before to pay respect and show sympathy to the family.
Going to funerals was normal for me. I was never afraid of dead people.
I can't believe I just typed that last sentence.
We close the casket during the funeral service, but during visitation people can come by the open casket for a viewing.
This is when dear aunts and cousins can comment on how natural you look.
"Don't she look natural?"
Looking natural is the best compliment to a dead Southern woman.
We spend our entire lives making sure we look anything but natural. We don't go to the grocery store without lipstick and we never serve company without putting on our face. But once we have left to be with the Lord, we want everyone to think we look natural.
Truthfully, how we look at our death is not a testimony to our good complexions or perfect hair. It is really a testimony to the funeral home who hired the best beautician in town to do our make-up.
However, we like to believe that looking natural at our death is the final chance to show off good grooming.
It's also a good time to force our husbands to buy us a new outfit.
That's when those sweet aunts can make the other common remark heard at funerals.
"He did a good job buying that suit. She always did look good in blue."
You're probably wondering, "How many people does she know?"
Not that many.
The truth is that Mama took me with her to funerals of people I didn't know, people I kinda knew, people I was related to, people I was kinda related to, and people I kinda knew and was related to.
Daddy was often at work. You can't always get a sitter on Tuesdays at 3:00 in the afternoon. So Mama just took me with her.
My people believe in funerals. When someone dies, you go to the service and at the very least, the visitation the night before to pay respect and show sympathy to the family.
Going to funerals was normal for me. I was never afraid of dead people.
I can't believe I just typed that last sentence.
We close the casket during the funeral service, but during visitation people can come by the open casket for a viewing.
This is when dear aunts and cousins can comment on how natural you look.
"Don't she look natural?"
Looking natural is the best compliment to a dead Southern woman.
We spend our entire lives making sure we look anything but natural. We don't go to the grocery store without lipstick and we never serve company without putting on our face. But once we have left to be with the Lord, we want everyone to think we look natural.
Truthfully, how we look at our death is not a testimony to our good complexions or perfect hair. It is really a testimony to the funeral home who hired the best beautician in town to do our make-up.
However, we like to believe that looking natural at our death is the final chance to show off good grooming.
It's also a good time to force our husbands to buy us a new outfit.
That's when those sweet aunts can make the other common remark heard at funerals.
"He did a good job buying that suit. She always did look good in blue."
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
The Scantron and A Tutorial On Self-Defense With Pork Products
My week is starting out pretty well. We had school yesterday after a week of standardized testing. Yes, I'm a homeschool mom who puts her kid through standardized testing, even though it is not required. It is the only way for me to know how she is doing compared to others her age and grade.
I also make her clean her room on a daily basis and do the white glove test when she is done.
Not.
The truth is, Daughter enjoys standardized testing. I have a confession. I did, too. It was a break from the routine and I thought it was fun. Yes, I said FUN. You should know by now that I am a nerd.
I always did well in Reading, Social Studies, and Spelling and notsomuch in Math. (Big Surprise.) My only disappointment was that we were no sections titled "The Application Of Blue Eye Shadow" or "How To Copy All The Janet Jackson Videos" because I would have totally thrown the curve in those two.
However, I never did well in transitional paragraphs.
Last night I went to a coffee with some ladies, then out to Wal-mart. I have previously vowed to avoid Wally after dark, but sometimes schedules and empty pantries trump that vow.
I also have seen the website with photos of people at Wal-mart. I think some of it is not that kind, and maybe a little staged. I also know that I'd better be dressed appropriately when I shop or else my mug may be on the Net.
But, there I was at Wally World. I got out of the car, clutched my purse, and proceeded to use my paranoid personality to keep an eye out for any weirdos in the parking lot. (Weirdos that would be out of place.)
At one point I walked past a truck playing loud music and thought it was a teenager (the driver inside, not the truck.) It turned out to be a middle-aged gentleman waiting for his wife to buy bread. At least that's what I told myself.
The little old lady at the door greeted me and I made an effort to quickly finish my list. Thank you cards, t-shirt transfers, Smithfield ham, and two cans of Allen's green beans.
I said to the cashier,"Well, I guess you know what I'm cooking for dinner tomorrow night."
"Looks good," she said.
I quickly left and headed for the parking lot, passing the man with the loud music. I stayed alert, armed with a spiral ham in one bag and two cans of good pole beans in the other.
The evening ended without incident. No one took my purse, my spiral ham, or my picture. I was just glad I made it out of Wal-mart without ending up on the Internet.
Oh, wait. I just did.
I also make her clean her room on a daily basis and do the white glove test when she is done.
Not.
The truth is, Daughter enjoys standardized testing. I have a confession. I did, too. It was a break from the routine and I thought it was fun. Yes, I said FUN. You should know by now that I am a nerd.
I always did well in Reading, Social Studies, and Spelling and notsomuch in Math. (Big Surprise.) My only disappointment was that we were no sections titled "The Application Of Blue Eye Shadow" or "How To Copy All The Janet Jackson Videos" because I would have totally thrown the curve in those two.
However, I never did well in transitional paragraphs.
Last night I went to a coffee with some ladies, then out to Wal-mart. I have previously vowed to avoid Wally after dark, but sometimes schedules and empty pantries trump that vow.
I also have seen the website with photos of people at Wal-mart. I think some of it is not that kind, and maybe a little staged. I also know that I'd better be dressed appropriately when I shop or else my mug may be on the Net.
But, there I was at Wally World. I got out of the car, clutched my purse, and proceeded to use my paranoid personality to keep an eye out for any weirdos in the parking lot. (Weirdos that would be out of place.)
At one point I walked past a truck playing loud music and thought it was a teenager (the driver inside, not the truck.) It turned out to be a middle-aged gentleman waiting for his wife to buy bread. At least that's what I told myself.
The little old lady at the door greeted me and I made an effort to quickly finish my list. Thank you cards, t-shirt transfers, Smithfield ham, and two cans of Allen's green beans.
I said to the cashier,"Well, I guess you know what I'm cooking for dinner tomorrow night."
"Looks good," she said.
I quickly left and headed for the parking lot, passing the man with the loud music. I stayed alert, armed with a spiral ham in one bag and two cans of good pole beans in the other.
The evening ended without incident. No one took my purse, my spiral ham, or my picture. I was just glad I made it out of Wal-mart without ending up on the Internet.
Oh, wait. I just did.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
He ain't heavy. He's my ladder.
The entire month of April has been busy. I was going to start out saying just this week, but I like to keep it real.
I've been in the midst of a project with a great group of ladies. The details are unimportant because this post is really about Hubs and me. I will say that part of the project has involved painting and part of the painting has involved ladders.
Last weekend three of us were painting when we realized that we only had two ladders. We could really use a third to knock out some of the work. So, I called Hubs.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Could you bring me the ladder?"
"Sure."
"And my two glue guns?"
"Yep."
So I met him outside the building, retrieved the ladder and glue guns, then headed back to our project.
Let me tell you about something about Hubs.
When he buys something, it is for function. No form. Function. The tool or gadget does not need bells and whistles but, if it does have a bell or a whistle, you'd better believe they are made from titanium alloy or stainless steel. His structural standards make Craftsman's warranty look pitiful.
This ladder of ours is no ordinary painter's ladder. It extends and contorts into every kind of ladder you could possibly need. It is heavy, durable, and could withstand gale force winds, which seems to be a really good measure of sound construction. (Not that I'd be on a ladder during gale force winds, but I'm just sayin.')
Under normal circumstances, that's a good thing. Under my circumstances, not so much. I had to carry this ladder for, I don't know, a mile or two (maybe I'm stretching it) on one shoulder while carrying a tote bag of glue guns on the other. It wasn't really heavy, just cumbersome.
Hindsight would urge my independent self to have Hubs carry the ladder, but hindsight is a lot like return labels on mail- completely useless.
I managed to carry the ladder and use it, then carry it back to my car when we were all finished. Fast forward to last night when I noticed the small bruises on my arm and shoulder.
Bruises from a ladder that didn't even fall on me.
I said to Hubs, "Look at my arm. Look at the bruises from that awful ladder of yours."
He said in his usual, caring tone, "Yep. You learned a valuable lesson that day."
"Yeah, don't call your husband and ask him to bring you his ladder."
"Yep."
"Yep."
Nearly sixteen years of marriage and he still knows how to show me he cares.
I've been in the midst of a project with a great group of ladies. The details are unimportant because this post is really about Hubs and me. I will say that part of the project has involved painting and part of the painting has involved ladders.
Last weekend three of us were painting when we realized that we only had two ladders. We could really use a third to knock out some of the work. So, I called Hubs.
"Hey, can you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Could you bring me the ladder?"
"Sure."
"And my two glue guns?"
"Yep."
So I met him outside the building, retrieved the ladder and glue guns, then headed back to our project.
Let me tell you about something about Hubs.
When he buys something, it is for function. No form. Function. The tool or gadget does not need bells and whistles but, if it does have a bell or a whistle, you'd better believe they are made from titanium alloy or stainless steel. His structural standards make Craftsman's warranty look pitiful.
This ladder of ours is no ordinary painter's ladder. It extends and contorts into every kind of ladder you could possibly need. It is heavy, durable, and could withstand gale force winds, which seems to be a really good measure of sound construction. (Not that I'd be on a ladder during gale force winds, but I'm just sayin.')
Under normal circumstances, that's a good thing. Under my circumstances, not so much. I had to carry this ladder for, I don't know, a mile or two (maybe I'm stretching it) on one shoulder while carrying a tote bag of glue guns on the other. It wasn't really heavy, just cumbersome.
Hindsight would urge my independent self to have Hubs carry the ladder, but hindsight is a lot like return labels on mail- completely useless.
I managed to carry the ladder and use it, then carry it back to my car when we were all finished. Fast forward to last night when I noticed the small bruises on my arm and shoulder.
Bruises from a ladder that didn't even fall on me.
I said to Hubs, "Look at my arm. Look at the bruises from that awful ladder of yours."
He said in his usual, caring tone, "Yep. You learned a valuable lesson that day."
"Yeah, don't call your husband and ask him to bring you his ladder."
"Yep."
"Yep."
Nearly sixteen years of marriage and he still knows how to show me he cares.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Random Dozen: Lost and Found
I've never been more thankful for Lid's random than today. I have not a smidgen of creativity in my bones this morning. Evident by the fact I just used the word "smidgen."
1. Have you ever been so lost that you were really afraid?
No. I lost my mom in the grocery store once, but I knew she was looking for me. She found me and I was much better. I'm sure she gave me a good talking to because I never wandered off again, except for hiding in the racks at JCPenney. Ahem.
2. Have you ever been to an island?
Yes. St. Simon's, Jekyl, and the Outer Banks (technically an island.) I've also been to Crab Island in Destin which is not technically an island. It's a sand bar where people hang out and swim and dodge the jellyfish.
3. Are you more of a thinker or feeler?
Thinker. I have feelings, promise. But I tend to analyze and pick things apart. After overhearing Lost on TV last night while I was helping someone paint (long story) I have decided that I must rent the entire collection and catch up. Yes, I'm just a few seasons behind and realize it is almost over. It just reminded me of all the subtle and profound analogies of X Files, which I LOVED.
So there.
I'm a thinker.
4. Do you tend to see issues or situations in life as black and white or shades of gray?
Black and white on moral issues. Shades of gray otherwise. Goes back to my analytical mind.
5. If you were stuck on an island, what book would you hope to have with you (Let's pretend the Bible is already there, so you can't say that.)
I'm gonna go with the obvious and say a book on survival. Call me boring. You can go ahead and read Pilgrim's Progress or Emma over and over while I learn how to start a fire and skin a rabbit.
6. What are you most afraid of?
Failure. This is a loaded question.
7. Would you rather lose all of your old memories or never be able to make new ones?
Never be able to make new ones. I think it would be sad for my family if I could not remember things from the past, especially for Daughter.
8. Pretend I'm looking at a scrapbook page about you. There are three spaces for you to drop in individual pictures. What are those pictures of, and why did you select them?
One picture of me with a book bag headed for school- Mama always took one of these on my first day of school. It says a lot about me. I love to learn and loved school (not jr. high or high school, blech.)
A photo of me and my family. They mean the world to me.
A picture of Maggie- See archives. To say I'm a cat person is an understatement. (I think that understatement phrase is overused, but I am too tired to come up with something new.)
9. If you were re-doing your wedding, what would you do differently? (If you're single, tell me one thing you would do if you were planning a wedding OR huge party.)
Honestly, I wouldn't change a lot. I'd take more pictures outside of the place we had our reception because years later it was torn down.
10. Tell me one thing you know/believe about forgiveness.
It is easier to forgive someone than to forgive yourself.
11. You're waiting in a doctor's office. What is your favorite way to pass that time?
Make notes for the blog or the one-day book!
12. If there were a clone of you in a parallel universe what is one way you hope she/he would be the same as you and one way you hope she/he would be better?
I hope she will send people real cards. It's something I've tired to continue because I think it's a lost art. (See, I worked in the theme, Lid.)
I hope she is not as uptight as me and weighs her ideal weight. If not, I hope she looks at herself in the mirror and loves what she sees anyway.
Whew. Lid, that was deep.
1. Have you ever been so lost that you were really afraid?
No. I lost my mom in the grocery store once, but I knew she was looking for me. She found me and I was much better. I'm sure she gave me a good talking to because I never wandered off again, except for hiding in the racks at JCPenney. Ahem.
2. Have you ever been to an island?
Yes. St. Simon's, Jekyl, and the Outer Banks (technically an island.) I've also been to Crab Island in Destin which is not technically an island. It's a sand bar where people hang out and swim and dodge the jellyfish.
3. Are you more of a thinker or feeler?
Thinker. I have feelings, promise. But I tend to analyze and pick things apart. After overhearing Lost on TV last night while I was helping someone paint (long story) I have decided that I must rent the entire collection and catch up. Yes, I'm just a few seasons behind and realize it is almost over. It just reminded me of all the subtle and profound analogies of X Files, which I LOVED.
So there.
I'm a thinker.
4. Do you tend to see issues or situations in life as black and white or shades of gray?
Black and white on moral issues. Shades of gray otherwise. Goes back to my analytical mind.
5. If you were stuck on an island, what book would you hope to have with you (Let's pretend the Bible is already there, so you can't say that.)
I'm gonna go with the obvious and say a book on survival. Call me boring. You can go ahead and read Pilgrim's Progress or Emma over and over while I learn how to start a fire and skin a rabbit.
6. What are you most afraid of?
Failure. This is a loaded question.
7. Would you rather lose all of your old memories or never be able to make new ones?
Never be able to make new ones. I think it would be sad for my family if I could not remember things from the past, especially for Daughter.
8. Pretend I'm looking at a scrapbook page about you. There are three spaces for you to drop in individual pictures. What are those pictures of, and why did you select them?
One picture of me with a book bag headed for school- Mama always took one of these on my first day of school. It says a lot about me. I love to learn and loved school (not jr. high or high school, blech.)
A photo of me and my family. They mean the world to me.
A picture of Maggie- See archives. To say I'm a cat person is an understatement. (I think that understatement phrase is overused, but I am too tired to come up with something new.)
9. If you were re-doing your wedding, what would you do differently? (If you're single, tell me one thing you would do if you were planning a wedding OR huge party.)
Honestly, I wouldn't change a lot. I'd take more pictures outside of the place we had our reception because years later it was torn down.
10. Tell me one thing you know/believe about forgiveness.
It is easier to forgive someone than to forgive yourself.
11. You're waiting in a doctor's office. What is your favorite way to pass that time?
Make notes for the blog or the one-day book!
12. If there were a clone of you in a parallel universe what is one way you hope she/he would be the same as you and one way you hope she/he would be better?
I hope she will send people real cards. It's something I've tired to continue because I think it's a lost art. (See, I worked in the theme, Lid.)
I hope she is not as uptight as me and weighs her ideal weight. If not, I hope she looks at herself in the mirror and loves what she sees anyway.
Whew. Lid, that was deep.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tots and Dreams
Do you know what I wish I could do?
I wish that I could finally figure out how to correctly pull up to the Sonic drive-in.
If I pull up too far, I can't reach the red button. If I don't pull up far enough, the cute little car hop can't reach my window to hand me my corn dog.
She always gives me that look, too.
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to figure out how to park correctly.
These are things I think about in life.
What about you?
What do you wish you could do?
If you know how to order at Sonic, please leave me detailed instructions in the Comments.
I wish that I could finally figure out how to correctly pull up to the Sonic drive-in.
If I pull up too far, I can't reach the red button. If I don't pull up far enough, the cute little car hop can't reach my window to hand me my corn dog.
She always gives me that look, too.
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to figure out how to park correctly.
These are things I think about in life.
What about you?
What do you wish you could do?
If you know how to order at Sonic, please leave me detailed instructions in the Comments.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
These are a few of my favorite links.
Favorite links this week from two of my favorite bloggers.
Arabs, Russians, and a Hookah Bar- Carpool Queen's Blog
Proudly announcing the arrival of...- It be's that way sometimes.
Arabs, Russians, and a Hookah Bar- Carpool Queen's Blog
Proudly announcing the arrival of...- It be's that way sometimes.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Horse Highlights
Daughter always looks forward to Wednesdays. Wednesdays equals horseback riding. When weather forces us to cancel, she is always disappointed. Wednesday afternoon is her favorite part of the week.
Yesterday we arrived at the barn earlier than Nancy and her daughter, C. Daughter caught her horse, prepared to ride, then headed to the arena.
The three of us arrived at the arena. Our instructor made sure Daughter was safely on, then left to help Nancy and C get ready.
She turned to me and said,"Okay, mom. You're in charge."
"That's scary, but alright," I said with a wink.
Our instructor walked the short distance back to the barn and I sat on the little stool as Daughter rode. As soon as she gets on the horse, she is in her own world. She listens for instruction, but everything else is shut out.
As she walked her horse around the arena, I watched. And listened. I have no idea what she was saying, but she was sharing something incredible with her horse. I could hear the emotion, the giggles, and the inflections in her voice. With every step, she shared something else. The horse's ears turned and listened as my daughter rode.
It reminded me of my visits to the hairdresser. I share my life's moments as she wraps my hair in foil. After she's done wonders, she shampoos and I keep talking. My hairdresser wraps my head in a towel and I plop down in the chair, where I chatter away as she reveals those necessary highlights.
Most hairdressers are patient with us as we tell them everything, but the truth is, they are tired. They really would like to work in peace in quiet. I'm probably the tenth customer of the day who shares her life.
Horses are different. They prick their ears and walk or trot or lope along. They listen intently as they work, capturing a moment with the rider who loves them.
Of course, I love my hairdresser. Who else could work miracles with this hair of mine? But nothing compares to the love a girl has for her horse.
No highlights could ever trump that.
Yesterday we arrived at the barn earlier than Nancy and her daughter, C. Daughter caught her horse, prepared to ride, then headed to the arena.
The three of us arrived at the arena. Our instructor made sure Daughter was safely on, then left to help Nancy and C get ready.
She turned to me and said,"Okay, mom. You're in charge."
"That's scary, but alright," I said with a wink.
Our instructor walked the short distance back to the barn and I sat on the little stool as Daughter rode. As soon as she gets on the horse, she is in her own world. She listens for instruction, but everything else is shut out.
As she walked her horse around the arena, I watched. And listened. I have no idea what she was saying, but she was sharing something incredible with her horse. I could hear the emotion, the giggles, and the inflections in her voice. With every step, she shared something else. The horse's ears turned and listened as my daughter rode.
It reminded me of my visits to the hairdresser. I share my life's moments as she wraps my hair in foil. After she's done wonders, she shampoos and I keep talking. My hairdresser wraps my head in a towel and I plop down in the chair, where I chatter away as she reveals those necessary highlights.
Most hairdressers are patient with us as we tell them everything, but the truth is, they are tired. They really would like to work in peace in quiet. I'm probably the tenth customer of the day who shares her life.
Horses are different. They prick their ears and walk or trot or lope along. They listen intently as they work, capturing a moment with the rider who loves them.
Of course, I love my hairdresser. Who else could work miracles with this hair of mine? But nothing compares to the love a girl has for her horse.
No highlights could ever trump that.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
In Sympathy
Please visit Linda today.
Her sweet friend, Diane, has gone on to be with the Lord after a battle with cancer.
Linda has written a beautiful tribute to her friend.
Her sweet friend, Diane, has gone on to be with the Lord after a battle with cancer.
Linda has written a beautiful tribute to her friend.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
On The Menu
The last few days have been busy.
I delivered a meal to a new mom, baked a cake for a nurses' staff, helped serve at a food booth, made a casserole for a potluck, decorated tables, and hosted a dinner for homeschool moms.
Noticing a theme?
Food. I believe it is the best theme ever.
I only have one more thing to add. Mr. Pyrex, I love you.
Later I'll share pictures of the cutest dessert I made for a new big brother.
How is your week going?
I delivered a meal to a new mom, baked a cake for a nurses' staff, helped serve at a food booth, made a casserole for a potluck, decorated tables, and hosted a dinner for homeschool moms.
Noticing a theme?
Food. I believe it is the best theme ever.
I only have one more thing to add. Mr. Pyrex, I love you.
Later I'll share pictures of the cutest dessert I made for a new big brother.
How is your week going?
Friday, April 16, 2010
Friday's Fav Five- Dixie and Yankees
Thanks for hosting the Fav Five this week, Susanne! Here are mine for the week.
1. This video clip from Designing Women- I recently mentioned Julia Sugarbaker. The clip about crazy people in the South is one of my favorite scenes. It makes me laugh because it is so true.
After my post last week, I learned that Dixie Carter who played Julia for so many years had passed away. Here's to Dixie and her spot-on portrayal of so many strong southern women!
2. Yankee Candles- When spring arrives, I love to buy new candles for the house. Some of my favorites for this time of year are Clean Cotton and Sun and Sand. (Hubs calls them flavors, not scents, which always cracks me up.)
FCC stuff- Yankee did not ask me to say that, nor have they sent me any free candles. Now that we've covered the legal nonsense, let's move on.
3. The casserole- I believe the casserole was created by some tired soul who had to make a meal for a large group of people and couldn't decide on a menu. Then she thought to herself,"I know just the thing! I'll just dump it all together, stir in some creamofsomethingsoup and top it with Ritz crackers!"
Thank you, m'am. You are a life saver.
4. Bible Study- If you are not in one, find one. You will be amazed at the friends you can make and the incredible things you learn when consistently in a small group. Each and every time I am involved in one, I learn something new that greatly affects my life.
5. Spring skirts- I love wearing a skirt in spring. They are so comfortable and just make me happy. I just need to work on my fake tan so I don't blind small dogs while walking down the street.
If you are wondering about my own family in relation to number one, the answer is both. :>)
Be sure to check Susanne's blog for more favs!
1. This video clip from Designing Women- I recently mentioned Julia Sugarbaker. The clip about crazy people in the South is one of my favorite scenes. It makes me laugh because it is so true.
After my post last week, I learned that Dixie Carter who played Julia for so many years had passed away. Here's to Dixie and her spot-on portrayal of so many strong southern women!
2. Yankee Candles- When spring arrives, I love to buy new candles for the house. Some of my favorites for this time of year are Clean Cotton and Sun and Sand. (Hubs calls them flavors, not scents, which always cracks me up.)
FCC stuff- Yankee did not ask me to say that, nor have they sent me any free candles. Now that we've covered the legal nonsense, let's move on.
3. The casserole- I believe the casserole was created by some tired soul who had to make a meal for a large group of people and couldn't decide on a menu. Then she thought to herself,"I know just the thing! I'll just dump it all together, stir in some creamofsomethingsoup and top it with Ritz crackers!"
Thank you, m'am. You are a life saver.
4. Bible Study- If you are not in one, find one. You will be amazed at the friends you can make and the incredible things you learn when consistently in a small group. Each and every time I am involved in one, I learn something new that greatly affects my life.
5. Spring skirts- I love wearing a skirt in spring. They are so comfortable and just make me happy. I just need to work on my fake tan so I don't blind small dogs while walking down the street.
If you are wondering about my own family in relation to number one, the answer is both. :>)
Be sure to check Susanne's blog for more favs!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Good Horse Sense
I grew up hearing all kinds of odd sayings. Of course, I had no idea they were odd. To me, they were perfectly normal.
It took marrying Hubs to learn that not everyone says things like,"Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth," or "You can get glad in the same pants you got mad in," or how about "He's a good egg."
The butter phrase is one of his favorites, by the way. I used to think it was because he found it clever. Now I know it is just because he loves butter.
Over the years, I've explained a lot of words and phrases to Hubs, or at least I've tried. He pretends to make fun of me a little, but I like to say he is channeling his third grade boyish charm in an effort to show he likes me. I just hope he doesn't give me a toad for my birthday.
There's one phrase Mama used that is fairly common- measuring a person's intelligence to that of a horse, "using good horse sense."
Whenever a person would do something not-so-bright (the Southerner's nice way of saying you're being an idiot,) Mama said,"Well, he doesn't have good horse sense!"
My sheltered self had no idea the magnitude of that statement. I'd never been around horses and I certainly had never given one an IQ test.
The weather here in SmallTown is schizophrenic. One minute it's nice and sunny, the next it's Sybil.
Every Wednesday, Nancy and I watch the forecast to see if we will have horseback riding lessons. Our instructor does the same. Some days it is obviously a day to cancel early in the morning. Other days we've had to cancel on our way there.
Yesterday all three of us were watching the weather. Nancy was watching the skies, I was watching the forecast, and our instructor was watching the radar images. If this horseback stuff doesn't work out, we could all work for The Weather Channel.
A stormy morning turned into a sunny afternoon. Horseback lessons were on.
When we arrived there was a nice breeze. The girls didn't even need a jacket. They tacked up and headed to the arena. Within minutes, the wind blew in clouds and cool weather. The three of us sat there and watched the girls on their horses underneath an unpredictable sky.
It was unanimous. We'd let them ride as long as the weather was decent, or as long as they could stand it.
The horses' behavior indicated the change in the air. Ears turned, lips twitched. The girls kept riding as it began to drizzle.
Their instructor asked the girls several times if they wanted to quit. They declined.
Because of their good training, the horses continued to work as commanded, but with a little protest. They changed direction on their own to keep the rain at their backs.
And they trotted by our instructor with the most hilarious expressions.
As the drizzle became a light rain, the girls kept riding. Each time they passed their instructor, the horses gave a new look.
"Hello, do you know it's raining?"
"Ahem, are we done yet?"
"Who is this kid you put on me who continues to ride in the rain?"
The three of us just laughed. Although, we should have been the last ones laughing because none of us had a jacket or a real hat.
Finally, the instructor called it and we all headed to the barn. I was proud of our girls for toughing it out.
The girls enjoyed their ride in the light rain. It was a new experience for them in riding and in horse behaviors. They put away their tack and brushed their horses as we looked on.
I stood in the barn, in my damp shirt and muddy boots, realizing the true intelligence of horses and the real meaning of another popular phrase.
As Mama would say, "Some people don't have enough sense to get out of the rain."
It took marrying Hubs to learn that not everyone says things like,"Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth," or "You can get glad in the same pants you got mad in," or how about "He's a good egg."
The butter phrase is one of his favorites, by the way. I used to think it was because he found it clever. Now I know it is just because he loves butter.
Over the years, I've explained a lot of words and phrases to Hubs, or at least I've tried. He pretends to make fun of me a little, but I like to say he is channeling his third grade boyish charm in an effort to show he likes me. I just hope he doesn't give me a toad for my birthday.
There's one phrase Mama used that is fairly common- measuring a person's intelligence to that of a horse, "using good horse sense."
Whenever a person would do something not-so-bright (the Southerner's nice way of saying you're being an idiot,) Mama said,"Well, he doesn't have good horse sense!"
My sheltered self had no idea the magnitude of that statement. I'd never been around horses and I certainly had never given one an IQ test.
The weather here in SmallTown is schizophrenic. One minute it's nice and sunny, the next it's Sybil.
Every Wednesday, Nancy and I watch the forecast to see if we will have horseback riding lessons. Our instructor does the same. Some days it is obviously a day to cancel early in the morning. Other days we've had to cancel on our way there.
Yesterday all three of us were watching the weather. Nancy was watching the skies, I was watching the forecast, and our instructor was watching the radar images. If this horseback stuff doesn't work out, we could all work for The Weather Channel.
A stormy morning turned into a sunny afternoon. Horseback lessons were on.
When we arrived there was a nice breeze. The girls didn't even need a jacket. They tacked up and headed to the arena. Within minutes, the wind blew in clouds and cool weather. The three of us sat there and watched the girls on their horses underneath an unpredictable sky.
It was unanimous. We'd let them ride as long as the weather was decent, or as long as they could stand it.
The horses' behavior indicated the change in the air. Ears turned, lips twitched. The girls kept riding as it began to drizzle.
Their instructor asked the girls several times if they wanted to quit. They declined.
Because of their good training, the horses continued to work as commanded, but with a little protest. They changed direction on their own to keep the rain at their backs.
And they trotted by our instructor with the most hilarious expressions.
As the drizzle became a light rain, the girls kept riding. Each time they passed their instructor, the horses gave a new look.
"Hello, do you know it's raining?"
"Ahem, are we done yet?"
"Who is this kid you put on me who continues to ride in the rain?"
The three of us just laughed. Although, we should have been the last ones laughing because none of us had a jacket or a real hat.
Finally, the instructor called it and we all headed to the barn. I was proud of our girls for toughing it out.
The girls enjoyed their ride in the light rain. It was a new experience for them in riding and in horse behaviors. They put away their tack and brushed their horses as we looked on.
I stood in the barn, in my damp shirt and muddy boots, realizing the true intelligence of horses and the real meaning of another popular phrase.
As Mama would say, "Some people don't have enough sense to get out of the rain."
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Observations from the Couch
What you may have overheard at our house last night:
Sound of me typing on the laptop. Seinfeld re-run playing in the background.
Hubs- "You know, Mike and Ikes are genius because you have the Mike and Ike in the same box."
Sound of my brain cells trying to comprehend, followed by the sound of me typing on the laptop.
Hubs- "Did you know that if you need your teeth permanently altered that it has to be done by the dentist? The hygienist can't do it?"
Me- "What does that have to do with anything?"
Hubs- "Nothing. You just may need to know that if you have your teeth permanently altered."
Sound of me typing all the nonsense on the laptop mixed with the shaking noise of a box of Mike and Ikes.
And the faint cries of a dental hygienist off in the distance.
Tomorrow we discuss the complex nature of the doctor/nurse relationship and why neither of us likes Raisinettes.
Sound of me typing on the laptop. Seinfeld re-run playing in the background.
Hubs- "You know, Mike and Ikes are genius because you have the Mike and Ike in the same box."
Sound of my brain cells trying to comprehend, followed by the sound of me typing on the laptop.
Hubs- "Did you know that if you need your teeth permanently altered that it has to be done by the dentist? The hygienist can't do it?"
Me- "What does that have to do with anything?"
Hubs- "Nothing. You just may need to know that if you have your teeth permanently altered."
Sound of me typing all the nonsense on the laptop mixed with the shaking noise of a box of Mike and Ikes.
And the faint cries of a dental hygienist off in the distance.
Tomorrow we discuss the complex nature of the doctor/nurse relationship and why neither of us likes Raisinettes.
Friday, April 09, 2010
Trans Fats and The Nervous Digestive Habits of the Equine
I don't know about y'all, but I don't want any more ham for a while. We ate leftovers until my sodium count reached near Dead Sea levels. On Monday afternoon, I had a migraine and realized it must be due to the nitrates.
At that painful moment I said, "That's it! I'm switching to the original white meat!"
Let me point out that I am not giving up ham completely. I am just going for smaller portions of the preservative-filled meat. Ham is a necessary part of my Southern diet. What else could I cook my vegetables with?
Don't tell me EVOO. I can use olive oil now and then, but good pole beans require a ham hock.
But, I know you didn't come here to read about my pork product preferences.
Our week has been fairly routine. We've homeschooled, gone to Bible study, and had horseback riding lessons.
This week Nancy was not feeling well, so I took her daughter and mine to riding lessons. Both girls have taken lessons for nearly a year, so all I had to do was surpervise.
However, there must have been something in the air, because both horses decided to do their business in the barn. These lessons are real lessons in caring for horses, so when your horse goes, you have to clean it up.
I'm suddenly understanding why I never took horseback riding lessons.
Daughter and C took turns with the pitch fork and literally pitched it. Neither complained really, which shows me they are much more mature than I am.
All the while Nancy was at home, leisurely lounging on the sofa with a stomach bug or something.
After the girls' lessons, we headed for Sonic. It has become our weekly routine. Daughter loves the root beer float and C goes for a Reese's Blast.
Nancy and I pretend to go for the girls, but the truth is I love the cherry limeade chillers and she loves the tots. She has been much more health concious lately, opting for a Diet Somethingover.
I'll bet she uses EVOO.
Which shows me she is much more mature than I am.
Hope you are feeling better Nanc. :>)
At that painful moment I said, "That's it! I'm switching to the original white meat!"
Let me point out that I am not giving up ham completely. I am just going for smaller portions of the preservative-filled meat. Ham is a necessary part of my Southern diet. What else could I cook my vegetables with?
Don't tell me EVOO. I can use olive oil now and then, but good pole beans require a ham hock.
But, I know you didn't come here to read about my pork product preferences.
Our week has been fairly routine. We've homeschooled, gone to Bible study, and had horseback riding lessons.
This week Nancy was not feeling well, so I took her daughter and mine to riding lessons. Both girls have taken lessons for nearly a year, so all I had to do was surpervise.
However, there must have been something in the air, because both horses decided to do their business in the barn. These lessons are real lessons in caring for horses, so when your horse goes, you have to clean it up.
I'm suddenly understanding why I never took horseback riding lessons.
Daughter and C took turns with the pitch fork and literally pitched it. Neither complained really, which shows me they are much more mature than I am.
All the while Nancy was at home, leisurely lounging on the sofa with a stomach bug or something.
After the girls' lessons, we headed for Sonic. It has become our weekly routine. Daughter loves the root beer float and C goes for a Reese's Blast.
Nancy and I pretend to go for the girls, but the truth is I love the cherry limeade chillers and she loves the tots. She has been much more health concious lately, opting for a Diet Somethingover.
I'll bet she uses EVOO.
Which shows me she is much more mature than I am.
Hope you are feeling better Nanc. :>)
Wednesday, April 07, 2010
Random Dozen: Elmer's Glue and Designing Women
Here are Linda's questions for the week.
1. Define a great relationship.
Nothing like starting out with the easy questions, Linda.
I think a great relationship, whether friendly or romantic, requires loving honesty, trust, loyalty, common values, and some common interests. I am blessed enough to have two wonderful friends who fit this description and an awesome husband.
2. Why is it called a "drive-through" if you have to stop? (Real question: What was the last food/drink you purchased at a drive-through?)
It really should be called a "drive around," now that you mention it, Lid. I bought Daughter a Frosty, fries and chicken nuggets from Wendy's.
3. As I type this, the Butler Bulldogs are getting ready to play in the NCAA championship game. Every Hoosier is hysterical about this except me. So in honor of the Bulldogs ... what is your favorite breed of dog? (I tried.)
I was so glad to see you weren't going with a sports question. We know how much I love sports. Ahem.
My favorite breed would have to be the beagle. I just love them. In all honesty, I love the mutt in the pound who needs a home. I really love his little nose pressed against the chain link gate.
4. If you had to move to a state besides the one you currently live in, where would you move?
This one is obvious.
Florida
South Carolina runs a close second. I love the low country.
Notice both offer wonderful beaches and fabulous seafood.
5. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?
I honestly can't think of anything. I have great parents.
As for what I would change about myself, I would not have squirted the glue in my hair in Kindergarten. I would also love to go back to first grade and punch that kid who picked on me on the playground.
Did I mention that my parents were faithful in taking me to Sunday School?
6. Who's the funniest person you know?
My husband. His humor is part of what attracted me to him. That and his blue eyes. We can sit on the sofa and laugh with each other about anything. We can make stuff up as we go along and just laugh. When people visit they look at us strangely.
I've told him that one day we will end up in a home and the staff will think we have dementia, not knowing it will be perfectly normal.
7. Did you get enough sleep last night?
No. The last time I got enough sleep I was about 5 years old.
8. What's the first thing you thought about this morning?
I'm sleepy.
9. Grilled or Fried? --HONESTLY
FRIED.
Unless it is amberjack, and then GRILLED.
My food preferences are always in CAPS LOCK.
(I'm glad Lid gets my subtle, punctuational humor. Not even sure punctuational is a word.)
10. Are you afraid of the dark?
No, but I'm afraid of flashlights.
Kidding.
11.When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
When I was in the 4th grade I wanted to be a dental hygienist. Then I realized what they had to do most of the day and that the dentist really made the cash. I decided to be a dentist.
At some point in high school, I wanted to be an interior designer. I blame Julia Sugarbaker.
12. If you had one word to describe yourself , what would you choose?
Square Peg
That's two words, so I'll go with one.
Square
See Linda for more rockin' random dozens. Thanks for the great questions this week, Lid!
1. Define a great relationship.
Nothing like starting out with the easy questions, Linda.
I think a great relationship, whether friendly or romantic, requires loving honesty, trust, loyalty, common values, and some common interests. I am blessed enough to have two wonderful friends who fit this description and an awesome husband.
2. Why is it called a "drive-through" if you have to stop? (Real question: What was the last food/drink you purchased at a drive-through?)
It really should be called a "drive around," now that you mention it, Lid. I bought Daughter a Frosty, fries and chicken nuggets from Wendy's.
3. As I type this, the Butler Bulldogs are getting ready to play in the NCAA championship game. Every Hoosier is hysterical about this except me. So in honor of the Bulldogs ... what is your favorite breed of dog? (I tried.)
I was so glad to see you weren't going with a sports question. We know how much I love sports. Ahem.
My favorite breed would have to be the beagle. I just love them. In all honesty, I love the mutt in the pound who needs a home. I really love his little nose pressed against the chain link gate.
4. If you had to move to a state besides the one you currently live in, where would you move?
This one is obvious.
Florida
South Carolina runs a close second. I love the low country.
Notice both offer wonderful beaches and fabulous seafood.
5. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?
I honestly can't think of anything. I have great parents.
As for what I would change about myself, I would not have squirted the glue in my hair in Kindergarten. I would also love to go back to first grade and punch that kid who picked on me on the playground.
Did I mention that my parents were faithful in taking me to Sunday School?
6. Who's the funniest person you know?
My husband. His humor is part of what attracted me to him. That and his blue eyes. We can sit on the sofa and laugh with each other about anything. We can make stuff up as we go along and just laugh. When people visit they look at us strangely.
I've told him that one day we will end up in a home and the staff will think we have dementia, not knowing it will be perfectly normal.
7. Did you get enough sleep last night?
No. The last time I got enough sleep I was about 5 years old.
8. What's the first thing you thought about this morning?
I'm sleepy.
9. Grilled or Fried? --HONESTLY
FRIED.
Unless it is amberjack, and then GRILLED.
My food preferences are always in CAPS LOCK.
(I'm glad Lid gets my subtle, punctuational humor. Not even sure punctuational is a word.)
10. Are you afraid of the dark?
No, but I'm afraid of flashlights.
Kidding.
11.When you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?
When I was in the 4th grade I wanted to be a dental hygienist. Then I realized what they had to do most of the day and that the dentist really made the cash. I decided to be a dentist.
At some point in high school, I wanted to be an interior designer. I blame Julia Sugarbaker.
12. If you had one word to describe yourself , what would you choose?
Square Peg
That's two words, so I'll go with one.
Square
See Linda for more rockin' random dozens. Thanks for the great questions this week, Lid!
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
Lycra, Spring Fever, and Ibuprofen
Spring has officially arrived and I am itching to go to the beach. The only thing holding me back is my pasty white complexion and, well, there's the added problem that the closest beach is hundreds of miles away.
I'm also a little biased about beaches. If I'm going to spend good money on fake tanning and plane tickets, I want to go to the Gulf Coast. Florida's gulf coast, specifically. We plan to go to the beach this summer, so I have to be patient.
Each time I Google or check the weather, there is list posted in the sidebar of the country's top beaches.
Now the Internet is just trying to hurt me.
The thing is, a trip to the beach means I will be buying a swimsuit. Swimsuits are not what I care to think about right now. My diet routine has consisted of bad lemonade cake and Diet Coke, and my work-out routine involves me walking back and forth from the hamper to the laundry room.
It's very effective.
You can see that I am torn between my dreams of emerald waters and my fear of clingy fabric and fluorescent lighting. My psychological health is very fragile.
If you'll excuse me, I need to run (not actually run) to Wal-mart for a supply of tan-in-a-tube, cellulite cream, and a Fromer's Guide To Florida.
Maybe I'll just get a new pair of flip flops and some Extra Strength Tylenol.
sigh
I'm also a little biased about beaches. If I'm going to spend good money on fake tanning and plane tickets, I want to go to the Gulf Coast. Florida's gulf coast, specifically. We plan to go to the beach this summer, so I have to be patient.
Each time I Google or check the weather, there is list posted in the sidebar of the country's top beaches.
Now the Internet is just trying to hurt me.
The thing is, a trip to the beach means I will be buying a swimsuit. Swimsuits are not what I care to think about right now. My diet routine has consisted of bad lemonade cake and Diet Coke, and my work-out routine involves me walking back and forth from the hamper to the laundry room.
It's very effective.
You can see that I am torn between my dreams of emerald waters and my fear of clingy fabric and fluorescent lighting. My psychological health is very fragile.
If you'll excuse me, I need to run (not actually run) to Wal-mart for a supply of tan-in-a-tube, cellulite cream, and a Fromer's Guide To Florida.
Maybe I'll just get a new pair of flip flops and some Extra Strength Tylenol.
sigh
Monday, April 05, 2010
Holiday traditions and really bad poetry
When I was little I made a card for Mama which read, "It may be Easter, but I don't love you any leaster."
Clearly my writing skills were beginning to emerge.
Our Easter morning began with Daughter opening her Easter basket. She showed us all the goodies in her basket. Then she grabbed her stuffed lamb (as in plush, not rack of), and then scurried away to her room sporting a huge grin. Hubs and I love to see her scurry away- a sprint down the hall or to her room with the look of mischief or delight on her face. It reminds us of the joys of childhood.
After church, I finished cooking our Easter dinner. On Saturday, I cooked a ham, boiled eggs for deviled eggs, and prepared a hashbrown casserole. All I had to do was warm the ham, finish making the eggs, and bake the casserole. I also steamed some broccoli, but I don't really count it as cooking.
I had planned to make sweet potato biscuits. As soon as I read all the steps, I decided to make my plain biscuits. I was too tired and did not want to take the chance at a new recipe. (The plain ones were quite tasty, by the way.)
For dessert, we had a pink lemonade cake. I don't usually bake, so making cakes is tricky for me. Give me a main dish or a roast to make any day. Make me measure baking powder exactly and I start to twitch. The cake turned out pretty good, not great. We ate it. (Hey, it's cake.)
Hubs cleaned the kitchen. Bless his heart. I took a nap- a long, pull the covers over my head, nap. It was nearly as good as the biscuits.
In the evening we colored eggs. Hubs, Daughter and I sat at the kitchen table dipping eggs in coffee cups filled with food coloring, and swirling eggs in little bags. It was fun and Hubs will be eating eggs for lunch for the rest of the week.
My grandmother loved to color eggs. I remember coloring eggs with her and then finding them later during an egg hunt in the yard. We didn't hide plastic eggs. We hid real ones and then ate them later. In the South Georgia heat. No one died.
We would come inside the house, and sit down at the kitchen table with our baskets. Mama helped me peel my eggs. I always put a little salt on them. Granny or Mama always made pound cake for Easter and after we had our eggs, we'd each have a slice. Then Granny would eat one potato chip to cut the sweet.
That's right. Boiled eggs, pound cake, and potato chips. An odd combination. But every time I peel an Easter egg and see where the coloring seeped through and colored it pink or yellow or green, I think of Granny. I sprinkle a little salt and take a bite, remembering Easter at Granny's table.
Next year, we're having pound cake for Easter.
And one potato chip for each of us.
Clearly my writing skills were beginning to emerge.
Our Easter morning began with Daughter opening her Easter basket. She showed us all the goodies in her basket. Then she grabbed her stuffed lamb (as in plush, not rack of), and then scurried away to her room sporting a huge grin. Hubs and I love to see her scurry away- a sprint down the hall or to her room with the look of mischief or delight on her face. It reminds us of the joys of childhood.
After church, I finished cooking our Easter dinner. On Saturday, I cooked a ham, boiled eggs for deviled eggs, and prepared a hashbrown casserole. All I had to do was warm the ham, finish making the eggs, and bake the casserole. I also steamed some broccoli, but I don't really count it as cooking.
I had planned to make sweet potato biscuits. As soon as I read all the steps, I decided to make my plain biscuits. I was too tired and did not want to take the chance at a new recipe. (The plain ones were quite tasty, by the way.)
For dessert, we had a pink lemonade cake. I don't usually bake, so making cakes is tricky for me. Give me a main dish or a roast to make any day. Make me measure baking powder exactly and I start to twitch. The cake turned out pretty good, not great. We ate it. (Hey, it's cake.)
Hubs cleaned the kitchen. Bless his heart. I took a nap- a long, pull the covers over my head, nap. It was nearly as good as the biscuits.
In the evening we colored eggs. Hubs, Daughter and I sat at the kitchen table dipping eggs in coffee cups filled with food coloring, and swirling eggs in little bags. It was fun and Hubs will be eating eggs for lunch for the rest of the week.
My grandmother loved to color eggs. I remember coloring eggs with her and then finding them later during an egg hunt in the yard. We didn't hide plastic eggs. We hid real ones and then ate them later. In the South Georgia heat. No one died.
We would come inside the house, and sit down at the kitchen table with our baskets. Mama helped me peel my eggs. I always put a little salt on them. Granny or Mama always made pound cake for Easter and after we had our eggs, we'd each have a slice. Then Granny would eat one potato chip to cut the sweet.
That's right. Boiled eggs, pound cake, and potato chips. An odd combination. But every time I peel an Easter egg and see where the coloring seeped through and colored it pink or yellow or green, I think of Granny. I sprinkle a little salt and take a bite, remembering Easter at Granny's table.
Next year, we're having pound cake for Easter.
And one potato chip for each of us.
Thursday, April 01, 2010
Falling Asleep
I logged on here to write and realized I hadn't written anything since Monday. And that wasn't even a real post.
It has been a busy week for me.
Sunday night our oven died. The element burned out. Fortunately for us, we are renters right now and all I had to do was call the landlord and wait for the repair, instead of taking care of it ourselves.
Tuesday, an appliance repairman came to check out the oven and then order a part. Unfortunately for us, we are renters right now and I have to wait on the repair, instead of taking care of it ourselves.
The stovetop works just fine, so we've had stovetop friendly dinners. (We sooo should have had Stovetop stuffing just for the irony of it. Why didn't I think of that? Maybe it's because I don't like Stovetop stuffing.)
Each day has had something going. Bible study, horseback riding lessons, meetings, homeschool, trips to UPS. I still need to plan my Easter menu (the oven will be repaired by then,) and hopefully find time to search for an Easter dress.
And it's only Thursday.
Our day is winding down. We just finished dinner, a stovetop friendly meal of tacos. My feet hurt a little. My back aches from traipsing through Wal-mart and standing in the kitchen. Here I am online.
Thursday.
Tonight is the night they came for Him.
It's the night He asked the disciples to pray. They fell asleep. I've often criticized them for that. All Jesus asked was for them to pray. How could they fall asleep? Couldn't they pay attention? It wasn't much for Him to ask.
Yet, here I am online and it's Thursday.
I'm tired. I ache. I have things to do. I don't have a dress. I don't have a working oven.
My Lord has asked me to pray.
Logging off...
It has been a busy week for me.
Sunday night our oven died. The element burned out. Fortunately for us, we are renters right now and all I had to do was call the landlord and wait for the repair, instead of taking care of it ourselves.
Tuesday, an appliance repairman came to check out the oven and then order a part. Unfortunately for us, we are renters right now and I have to wait on the repair, instead of taking care of it ourselves.
The stovetop works just fine, so we've had stovetop friendly dinners. (We sooo should have had Stovetop stuffing just for the irony of it. Why didn't I think of that? Maybe it's because I don't like Stovetop stuffing.)
Each day has had something going. Bible study, horseback riding lessons, meetings, homeschool, trips to UPS. I still need to plan my Easter menu (the oven will be repaired by then,) and hopefully find time to search for an Easter dress.
And it's only Thursday.
Our day is winding down. We just finished dinner, a stovetop friendly meal of tacos. My feet hurt a little. My back aches from traipsing through Wal-mart and standing in the kitchen. Here I am online.
Thursday.
Tonight is the night they came for Him.
It's the night He asked the disciples to pray. They fell asleep. I've often criticized them for that. All Jesus asked was for them to pray. How could they fall asleep? Couldn't they pay attention? It wasn't much for Him to ask.
Yet, here I am online and it's Thursday.
I'm tired. I ache. I have things to do. I don't have a dress. I don't have a working oven.
My Lord has asked me to pray.
Logging off...
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