1. Yesterday I was at a local gift shop purchasing a stack of cards. I like to purchase cards in bulk. If I need a card, I buy that particular one and also buy some for any birthdays or other occasions over the next few months. That way I can have them on hand when I need them or just completely forget I have them and buy duplicates later. It all starts out to be a very efficient plan.
So I was paying for my cards when a little boy behind me kept stomping his foot. I thought he was marking time with the Sinatra tune playing overhead, but then I realized he was just a nervous kid. After a few minutes of this, his mother finally said,"That's enough."
I wanted to turn to her and tell her it was enough for me about 100 stomps before that. However, bless her heart for her patience.
Did I mention they were standing in line to buy candy? That's just what you need to give to a nervous kid- a bag of candy.
The clerk put the candy on the counter after she counted the pieces. She added up the amount, then waited as another clerk rang up my cards. In the meantime, the leader of Stomp nervously waited for his candy. The clerk then offered him his choice of one free silly band from a basket behind the counter.
Silly bands have been around for a while but they have just caught on here in Small Town. New fads arrive to us via Pony Express. It takes a while.
So the little nervous boy, wide-eyed, chose one silly band from the basket (which is like eating one potato chip) as the clerk quickly snatched it, I mean gently placed it back behind the iron bars of the counter. The little boy's mom asked her if they sold them, which they did, in packs, on the other side of the counter.
I chuckled and said to the clerk,"Yep. Go ahead and give them some crack and then get them addicted."
The mom laughed but the clerk was not amused.
All of that leads me to my favorite thing of the week, which is not silly bands, as you may have guessed.
No, it's the fact that I have a dark, sarcastic sense of humor which old clerks do not understand, but tired moms of nervous kids find amusing.
2. The hamster commercial. Hubs and I have laughed and laughed. Either you hate it or you love. We love it.
3. Lunch with friends. I had a nice lunch with a friend yesterday. Our girls played while we talked. It was great.
4. The bug man. I am waiting for him to arrive as I type. One of those New Mexico fire ants got me the other day. We have an area in our driveway where they have taken up residence. They are about to get evicted.
5. Good Mexican food. This was one thing I missed while we were away from Small Town. There's nothing like taco grease to lift a girl's spirits, until she stands on the scales.
Suddenly silly bands are looking more interesting.
See Susanne for more faves this week! Thanks, Susanne for hosting.
Friday, August 06, 2010
Thursday, August 05, 2010
On Beauty Products and Brides
I really should rename this blog "This Ain't Updated Very Much. Check Back When I Remember To Write Something, Probably In List Form."
But that would be really wordy and tough to center in my header. It could encroach on the curious cow photo.
I'd say we've been busy and productive this week, but I'd be lying.
Daughter had some friends over one day. We've had horseback riding, several unfruitful trips to the grocery store (I am holding off for the BIG shop,) and one trip to Sonic.
My big accomplishment? Cleaning out three drawers in our bathroom vanity.
Poor Hubs gets a small area under his sink. The drawers are mostly for me and all my make-up, hair and moisturizing products. I would say I feel sorry for him, but I really don't think a man needs more than a small area under the sink for his morning routine products. Do you?
As for the results of the clean-up, I realized that I buy a lot of anti-aging products that don't work and that we have every shade of pink nail polish known to woman.
Maybe that shade of fuchsia will distract from all the wrinkles.
On a completely unrelated note, I am tickled pink about the upcoming Say Yes To The Dress- Atlanta. I watch the New York version, but I can't wait to compare the two shows. It should be a delight in accents, opinionated mamas and the importance of deciding on a hairstyle before purchasing the bridal head piece. (Priorities, people.)
Have a great Thursday.
I hope your toes are pink and wrinkle free.
But that would be really wordy and tough to center in my header. It could encroach on the curious cow photo.
I'd say we've been busy and productive this week, but I'd be lying.
Daughter had some friends over one day. We've had horseback riding, several unfruitful trips to the grocery store (I am holding off for the BIG shop,) and one trip to Sonic.
My big accomplishment? Cleaning out three drawers in our bathroom vanity.
Poor Hubs gets a small area under his sink. The drawers are mostly for me and all my make-up, hair and moisturizing products. I would say I feel sorry for him, but I really don't think a man needs more than a small area under the sink for his morning routine products. Do you?
As for the results of the clean-up, I realized that I buy a lot of anti-aging products that don't work and that we have every shade of pink nail polish known to woman.
Maybe that shade of fuchsia will distract from all the wrinkles.
On a completely unrelated note, I am tickled pink about the upcoming Say Yes To The Dress- Atlanta. I watch the New York version, but I can't wait to compare the two shows. It should be a delight in accents, opinionated mamas and the importance of deciding on a hairstyle before purchasing the bridal head piece. (Priorities, people.)
Have a great Thursday.
I hope your toes are pink and wrinkle free.
Monday, August 02, 2010
More things I don't understand: Flying
1. Why does the pilot always tell you the weather of the arrival city during the flight? It doesn't really help me to know it's 95 degrees and humid in Atlanta or 42 degrees and cloudy in New York. I already packed.
2. Why does he tell us our altitude? The number of thousands of feet we are cruising at doesn't really matter to me as long as that number isn't rapidly decreasing and that little oxygen thing doesn't pop down.
3. The extra weight fee on luggage is a total scam. I recently was charged for one piece of luggage being 4 pounds over the weight limit. The baggage checker lady told me I could take things out of it and put it in another suitcase. That makes no sense to me. Shouldn't it be TOTAL weight of all my luggage?
I just let them charge me extra because I knew if I had opened that piece of luggage, it would have been like opening a can of silly snakes. Stuff would have been flying everywhere. Not that I packed snakes. That's out of regulations.
4. Why do I get excited about the free soda on the plane? I don't even like my Diet Coke over ice.
5. Is it just me or does that little drink cart look like a cross between an ice cream vendor's cart and something from a HazMat team?
That being said, where's my ice cream?
2. Why does he tell us our altitude? The number of thousands of feet we are cruising at doesn't really matter to me as long as that number isn't rapidly decreasing and that little oxygen thing doesn't pop down.
3. The extra weight fee on luggage is a total scam. I recently was charged for one piece of luggage being 4 pounds over the weight limit. The baggage checker lady told me I could take things out of it and put it in another suitcase. That makes no sense to me. Shouldn't it be TOTAL weight of all my luggage?
I just let them charge me extra because I knew if I had opened that piece of luggage, it would have been like opening a can of silly snakes. Stuff would have been flying everywhere. Not that I packed snakes. That's out of regulations.
4. Why do I get excited about the free soda on the plane? I don't even like my Diet Coke over ice.
5. Is it just me or does that little drink cart look like a cross between an ice cream vendor's cart and something from a HazMat team?
That being said, where's my ice cream?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Classic Southern Writing and Baked Goods
Yesterday I spent my time running errands, going to horseback lessons (which is always a treat,) and staring at the basket of folded clothes which continues to nag me. Never mind the inch of brown dust in my windowsills and on the furniture which collected while I was away. I also need to mop the floor (brown dirt of SmallTown, you are my nemesis) but instead I am on here blogging about the fact that I've done nothing about it.
Ironic.
Oh, I forgot. There was one other thing I did yesterday. That was catch up on my TV viewing, including O'Reilly featuring Laura Ingraham who is smart and witty and lovely, but I'd rather watch Bill. Sorry, it's like Jay stepping in for Johnny.
I also may or may not have watched a few minutes of Days of Our Lives during my daytime channel surfing. Within the time it takes me to get a Diet Coke, I was all caught up on Sam's latest saga and the fact that Hope still looks good.
I'm still so proud of her for losing all that weight and keeping it off and if you find that shallow and unimportant, then you've never struggled with a weight problem or seen the wedding episode where she had to ride the back of Bo's bike with her dress flapping up in the wind.
Bless her heart.
So today I've decided to get back to the important things in life, regular posting on my blog.
If you are wondering about the donut I mentioned in my last post, it was from The Donut Hole in Destin. The Donut Hole is not paying me for this endorsement, by the way. They've already rewarded me plenty with their good key lime pie, huge biscuits, and now the red velvet donut.
It tastes just like red velvet cake, only with the added benefit of not needing a fork. It even has a layer of cream cheese icing on top. Y'all. It was better than Krispy Kreme. That's pretty much all I need to say about that.
On our trip, I decided to pick a good book for the airport, down time in the airplane, and all the moments I was able to put my feet up on the beach and relax. I say "able" because I have a daughter who likes me to help her build sand sculptures and look for shells and a husband who likes to come report to me about Daughter's sand sculptures and found shells.
I picked The Help because I had read great reviews from other bloggers. It was probably the best book I have read in a very long time. Again, no endorsements. (I really should make a button to cover that.) I won't go into the details or the characters, but if you are from the South, you'll love the voices and themes. Be prepared to cry a little and cheer a lot.
Moving on.
Now that I've delved into the serious issues of life- donuts and Southern novels, I need to get to that layer of brown dust and that irritating folded basket of clothes...
I HEAR YOU. I SAID I WAS COMING.
P.S. A bite of red velvet cake donut while reading The Help would be a great combination. I wish I'd thought of it earlier myself. Drat.
Ironic.
Oh, I forgot. There was one other thing I did yesterday. That was catch up on my TV viewing, including O'Reilly featuring Laura Ingraham who is smart and witty and lovely, but I'd rather watch Bill. Sorry, it's like Jay stepping in for Johnny.
I also may or may not have watched a few minutes of Days of Our Lives during my daytime channel surfing. Within the time it takes me to get a Diet Coke, I was all caught up on Sam's latest saga and the fact that Hope still looks good.
I'm still so proud of her for losing all that weight and keeping it off and if you find that shallow and unimportant, then you've never struggled with a weight problem or seen the wedding episode where she had to ride the back of Bo's bike with her dress flapping up in the wind.
Bless her heart.
So today I've decided to get back to the important things in life, regular posting on my blog.
If you are wondering about the donut I mentioned in my last post, it was from The Donut Hole in Destin. The Donut Hole is not paying me for this endorsement, by the way. They've already rewarded me plenty with their good key lime pie, huge biscuits, and now the red velvet donut.
It tastes just like red velvet cake, only with the added benefit of not needing a fork. It even has a layer of cream cheese icing on top. Y'all. It was better than Krispy Kreme. That's pretty much all I need to say about that.
On our trip, I decided to pick a good book for the airport, down time in the airplane, and all the moments I was able to put my feet up on the beach and relax. I say "able" because I have a daughter who likes me to help her build sand sculptures and look for shells and a husband who likes to come report to me about Daughter's sand sculptures and found shells.
I picked The Help because I had read great reviews from other bloggers. It was probably the best book I have read in a very long time. Again, no endorsements. (I really should make a button to cover that.) I won't go into the details or the characters, but if you are from the South, you'll love the voices and themes. Be prepared to cry a little and cheer a lot.
Moving on.
Now that I've delved into the serious issues of life- donuts and Southern novels, I need to get to that layer of brown dust and that irritating folded basket of clothes...
I HEAR YOU. I SAID I WAS COMING.
P.S. A bite of red velvet cake donut while reading The Help would be a great combination. I wish I'd thought of it earlier myself. Drat.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
On vacations, planes, and housekeeping hang-ups.
We are home.
Our luggage made it.
We made it.
And I have some stories. Oh, the stories.
Some of which include weird people on the plane (not us, although that could be a post,) the best donut I ever had, one of the best books I've read in a mighty long time, my love for water, and the incredible irony of changing seats on the plane.
It's all in my head. Along with plans to lose the five pounds I gained on the trip.
May I just add that your comments about cleaning motel rooms and cabins made me feel a little more comfortable about leaving my house? Yes, there is an underground Lysol/Clorox cleaning team out there, folks, and we are keeping the world as germ-free as possible.
Our luggage made it.
We made it.
And I have some stories. Oh, the stories.
Some of which include weird people on the plane (not us, although that could be a post,) the best donut I ever had, one of the best books I've read in a mighty long time, my love for water, and the incredible irony of changing seats on the plane.
It's all in my head. Along with plans to lose the five pounds I gained on the trip.
May I just add that your comments about cleaning motel rooms and cabins made me feel a little more comfortable about leaving my house? Yes, there is an underground Lysol/Clorox cleaning team out there, folks, and we are keeping the world as germ-free as possible.
Monday, July 19, 2010
You could say it's a wealth of information. Or not.
We traveled right through the Peach State and I didn't manage to blog a thing. It may have something to do with my lack of Internet access, but I'm just guessing. I do have some things tucked away in the dusty corners of my brain, so we'll see if I ever get it on the Web.
On Saturday, we arrived at our condo on the beach. Let me clarify- the condo we rented, not our condo, as I have not won the lottery (you have to play to win) and no rich uncle or aunt in my family has died. However, what we lack in inheritance, we make up for in crazy.
Where was I?
Oh, yes. The beach.
So we arrived at the condo I rented from "one of those websites where you save money by renting from the person who owns it" (totally trying to avoid the correct title so as to avoid Google searches.) We have done so in the past and it saves a lot of money.
However.
There are a few perks you do not receive.
There is usually no daily maid service. You could be totally caught off guard by something when you arrive.
Now, you do have some negotiating power with a contract, but then you have to be all confrontational and assertive and, unlike many of my sweet Southern friends, I have no problem with that.
So far, the two places we have rented by the person(s) who own them have been fine. They have been clean, but I had to do my own cleaning.
Then again, I have issues.
Let me tell you about my issues. Go ahead and get your second cup of coffee.
I have two clean standards.
1. Family/Friends/People I Generally Know Or Send Christmas Cards To- When I visit their house, I feel at home. I have no issue about clean/neat/tidy. I feel welcome. I know them. I love them. I hope they extend the same graciousness to me when they visit my house. (Don't even ask me how often I vacuum under the bed.)
2. Hotel/Motel/Good Grief, People I Never Met Have Slept and Eaten Here- Hotel germs are different. And, I don't mean Forrest Gump, we'll grow to love you kind of different. I don't know them. I don't love them.
The thought that someone I don't know has been there and maybe the housekeeper missed a few places makes me twitch a little. So, unless I am at the Hampton Inn (they even wash the comforter!) I clean the place again.
Here's the kicker. The longer I'm there, the deeper I clean.
It's a sickness, really. But they say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
I always rewash all the dishes before we use them. I wipe down the microwave, frig., and counters. And then I sanitize the bathrooms.
Sometimes I use Lysol. Sometimes I use cleaner with bleach. It's all about the mood at the time.
That environmentally-friendly stuff is great for the environment but seriously, vacation is no time to be saving the environment.
All of this being said, if you are still here, you are probably sitting there either shaking your head at my insanity or thinking about all those times you stayed in a condo/hotel room and wished you'd had a can of Lysol.
I'm just here to help.
You're welcome.
On Saturday, we arrived at our condo on the beach. Let me clarify- the condo we rented, not our condo, as I have not won the lottery (you have to play to win) and no rich uncle or aunt in my family has died. However, what we lack in inheritance, we make up for in crazy.
Where was I?
Oh, yes. The beach.
So we arrived at the condo I rented from "one of those websites where you save money by renting from the person who owns it" (totally trying to avoid the correct title so as to avoid Google searches.) We have done so in the past and it saves a lot of money.
However.
There are a few perks you do not receive.
There is usually no daily maid service. You could be totally caught off guard by something when you arrive.
Now, you do have some negotiating power with a contract, but then you have to be all confrontational and assertive and, unlike many of my sweet Southern friends, I have no problem with that.
So far, the two places we have rented by the person(s) who own them have been fine. They have been clean, but I had to do my own cleaning.
Then again, I have issues.
Let me tell you about my issues. Go ahead and get your second cup of coffee.
I have two clean standards.
1. Family/Friends/People I Generally Know Or Send Christmas Cards To- When I visit their house, I feel at home. I have no issue about clean/neat/tidy. I feel welcome. I know them. I love them. I hope they extend the same graciousness to me when they visit my house. (Don't even ask me how often I vacuum under the bed.)
2. Hotel/Motel/Good Grief, People I Never Met Have Slept and Eaten Here- Hotel germs are different. And, I don't mean Forrest Gump, we'll grow to love you kind of different. I don't know them. I don't love them.
The thought that someone I don't know has been there and maybe the housekeeper missed a few places makes me twitch a little. So, unless I am at the Hampton Inn (they even wash the comforter!) I clean the place again.
Here's the kicker. The longer I'm there, the deeper I clean.
It's a sickness, really. But they say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.
I always rewash all the dishes before we use them. I wipe down the microwave, frig., and counters. And then I sanitize the bathrooms.
Sometimes I use Lysol. Sometimes I use cleaner with bleach. It's all about the mood at the time.
That environmentally-friendly stuff is great for the environment but seriously, vacation is no time to be saving the environment.
All of this being said, if you are still here, you are probably sitting there either shaking your head at my insanity or thinking about all those times you stayed in a condo/hotel room and wished you'd had a can of Lysol.
I'm just here to help.
You're welcome.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Oh, where do I begin?
I have a multitude of travel tidbits and my mind is swimming with blog fodder.
I will post later, but here are a few little morsels for you.
1. I had no idea how much I had missed hearing a Southern accent. It is music to my ears.
2. The humidity, it is good.
3. It is downright shameful how much food I've eaten since we arrived in the South. Tasty, but shameful.
4. I was sitting at lunch today and saw a woman with skin that was actually dewy. Note to Hubs: You have to get me out of New Mexico in time for my skin to eventually return to the dewy.
5. The sound of bugs at night is delightful.
6. I head for southeast Georgia tomorrow. Red clay and good fried catfish. It doesn't get any better than that.
7. On Friday, I saw a gator. A gator! I love that. He welcomed me back home. At least I think that look was a welcome. Although it could have been the "you could sooo be my dinner" look as well. Those gators are so hard to read.
8. I realized today that I could visit Target in three states by the end of my trip.
9. I am all about setting goals and reaching them.
I will post later, but here are a few little morsels for you.
1. I had no idea how much I had missed hearing a Southern accent. It is music to my ears.
2. The humidity, it is good.
3. It is downright shameful how much food I've eaten since we arrived in the South. Tasty, but shameful.
4. I was sitting at lunch today and saw a woman with skin that was actually dewy. Note to Hubs: You have to get me out of New Mexico in time for my skin to eventually return to the dewy.
5. The sound of bugs at night is delightful.
6. I head for southeast Georgia tomorrow. Red clay and good fried catfish. It doesn't get any better than that.
7. On Friday, I saw a gator. A gator! I love that. He welcomed me back home. At least I think that look was a welcome. Although it could have been the "you could sooo be my dinner" look as well. Those gators are so hard to read.
8. I realized today that I could visit Target in three states by the end of my trip.
9. I am all about setting goals and reaching them.
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Observations From 5-B
Yesterday Daughter and I arrived at the home of my in-laws in South Carolina. It was a cool and breezy 100 degrees.
I've been planning this trip for months. SmallTown does not have what I'd call a reliable airport (as in the airplanes are so small they look like they need an 8 year-old on the ground with a remote control.) So we always have to drive at least 2 hours to another airport. For some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to fly out of Lubbock at 7:30 AM. That would be in the morning.
This meant that I had to be at the airport at 6:30 AM. In the morning.
My goal was to reach South Carolina before rush hour and before dark. However, flying out of Lubbock at 7:30 would mean leaving my house at 4:30 (which is also technically in the morning.)
We decided it would be better to drive over the day before, enjoy a good dinner, get a good night's sleep, then head to the airport, as opposed to getting up while the night watchmen were on their coffee breaks.
Hubs left work a little early and I already had our bags packed. We drove to Lubbock and went to Pei Wei for some good Asian food. That's when it all went very, very bad.
Hubs decided to teach Daughter the art of making a suicide drink at the fountain drink machine. He apparently only mixed Dr. Pepper and root beer, but mostly Dr. Pepper. The thing about the Doc is that it has caffeine.
By the time we got back to the hotel, Daughter was full of energy, so much so that she had the uncontrollable giggles. This lasted until 1:00 AM. In the morning.
We got up at 5:00 AM. Yes, that would also be IN THE MORNING.
We opened up the Hampton Inn breakfast and I must say that those scrambled eggs taste much better when they are freshly made. I usually eat them near the end of the breakfast time because I am normally still in the bed and the only way I ever get breakfast and coffee is if Hubs brings it to me while I'm still in my pajamas rubbing my eyes.
But yesterday the sun and I shared our first cup of coffee together. I looked around for that Jimmy Dean sausage commercial guy, but even he was still asleep.
When we loaded our suitcases in the car, I said,"It's still dark. This is so wrong."
Hubs drove us to the airport and dropped us off at the curb because of something about a meter running. Oh, I kid. He parked and then made me pay for it.
Seriously, I was eternally grateful that he was able to drive us to the airport (which is an act of love and friendship right up there with helping someone move) before returning to SmallTown to go to work. God love him. He pulled the suitcases, hoisted them up on the scale, checked our bags. He basically did all the heavy lifting.
He even waited to make sure we made it through Security because you never know, what with my record and all.
After we made it to the other side, Daughter decided she needed a water. I was glad to fork out the twenty bucks to keep her hydrated, so we waited at the Starbucks counter. A lady dressed like a pilot was ahead of us. She ordered 4 drinks, all with different dairy and non-dairy contents and types of syrup. I kept an eye on my gate, wondering if I'd make it and get the water.
I couldn't complain because every girl needs her Starbucks coffee whenever available and heaven forbid for me to get in the way of a pilot who is just trying to keep her crew awake. (I don't know much about flying regulations, but that seems like it would be at the top.)
We were able to get our water in time and board our plane, which had another pilot and crew, I may add. I don't know if they were properly caffeinated.
Within 20 minutes of takeoff, the pilot or co-pilot (how do you tell?) walked to the back of the plane to the bathroom. My first thought was, "Don't they need him up there?" and my next thought was, "Didn't he go before we left?"
My third thought was,"Maybe he did get a double espresso."
And my last and final thought was,"This is such great blog fodder, if only I can stay awake long enough to write it. Maybe I should have had the double espresso."
I've been planning this trip for months. SmallTown does not have what I'd call a reliable airport (as in the airplanes are so small they look like they need an 8 year-old on the ground with a remote control.) So we always have to drive at least 2 hours to another airport. For some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to fly out of Lubbock at 7:30 AM. That would be in the morning.
This meant that I had to be at the airport at 6:30 AM. In the morning.
My goal was to reach South Carolina before rush hour and before dark. However, flying out of Lubbock at 7:30 would mean leaving my house at 4:30 (which is also technically in the morning.)
We decided it would be better to drive over the day before, enjoy a good dinner, get a good night's sleep, then head to the airport, as opposed to getting up while the night watchmen were on their coffee breaks.
Hubs left work a little early and I already had our bags packed. We drove to Lubbock and went to Pei Wei for some good Asian food. That's when it all went very, very bad.
Hubs decided to teach Daughter the art of making a suicide drink at the fountain drink machine. He apparently only mixed Dr. Pepper and root beer, but mostly Dr. Pepper. The thing about the Doc is that it has caffeine.
By the time we got back to the hotel, Daughter was full of energy, so much so that she had the uncontrollable giggles. This lasted until 1:00 AM. In the morning.
We got up at 5:00 AM. Yes, that would also be IN THE MORNING.
We opened up the Hampton Inn breakfast and I must say that those scrambled eggs taste much better when they are freshly made. I usually eat them near the end of the breakfast time because I am normally still in the bed and the only way I ever get breakfast and coffee is if Hubs brings it to me while I'm still in my pajamas rubbing my eyes.
But yesterday the sun and I shared our first cup of coffee together. I looked around for that Jimmy Dean sausage commercial guy, but even he was still asleep.
When we loaded our suitcases in the car, I said,"It's still dark. This is so wrong."
Hubs drove us to the airport and dropped us off at the curb because of something about a meter running. Oh, I kid. He parked and then made me pay for it.
Seriously, I was eternally grateful that he was able to drive us to the airport (which is an act of love and friendship right up there with helping someone move) before returning to SmallTown to go to work. God love him. He pulled the suitcases, hoisted them up on the scale, checked our bags. He basically did all the heavy lifting.
He even waited to make sure we made it through Security because you never know, what with my record and all.
After we made it to the other side, Daughter decided she needed a water. I was glad to fork out the twenty bucks to keep her hydrated, so we waited at the Starbucks counter. A lady dressed like a pilot was ahead of us. She ordered 4 drinks, all with different dairy and non-dairy contents and types of syrup. I kept an eye on my gate, wondering if I'd make it and get the water.
I couldn't complain because every girl needs her Starbucks coffee whenever available and heaven forbid for me to get in the way of a pilot who is just trying to keep her crew awake. (I don't know much about flying regulations, but that seems like it would be at the top.)
We were able to get our water in time and board our plane, which had another pilot and crew, I may add. I don't know if they were properly caffeinated.
Within 20 minutes of takeoff, the pilot or co-pilot (how do you tell?) walked to the back of the plane to the bathroom. My first thought was, "Don't they need him up there?" and my next thought was, "Didn't he go before we left?"
My third thought was,"Maybe he did get a double espresso."
And my last and final thought was,"This is such great blog fodder, if only I can stay awake long enough to write it. Maybe I should have had the double espresso."
Monday, July 05, 2010
No need for Lat/Long; Just follow your nose.
I've been running around today, getting ready for our trip. First I was off to the drugstore, then to Wal-mart, then to UPS, which was closed for the holiday that fell on yesterday. Whatever, Brown.
They know I'm in their clinches and I'll return tomorrow since I do not go to the post office EVER.
I returned to an empty house and unloaded my few packages. Hubs and Daughter had gone geocaching. Soon, they both waltzed in with Hubs' new GPS (which we gave him for Father's Day) but no geocache treasures. They were pretty disappointed.
However, they can't blame the new GPS. It is pretty cool, if I do say so myself.
Daughter gave me an update on their hunt. She told me that one location had a lot of grass or brush or something and that they decided it was best "not to stick their hands in there." That was when I thanked the Good Lord that I married a man with sense.
Then she said they "smelled a rotting carcass, IT SMELLED JUST LIKE A ROTTING CARCASS!"
She said it in all caps for emphasis.
That was when I thanked the Good Lord that I birthed such an honest and olfactory sensitive child.
And that I was left out of the expedition.
They know I'm in their clinches and I'll return tomorrow since I do not go to the post office EVER.
I returned to an empty house and unloaded my few packages. Hubs and Daughter had gone geocaching. Soon, they both waltzed in with Hubs' new GPS (which we gave him for Father's Day) but no geocache treasures. They were pretty disappointed.
However, they can't blame the new GPS. It is pretty cool, if I do say so myself.
Daughter gave me an update on their hunt. She told me that one location had a lot of grass or brush or something and that they decided it was best "not to stick their hands in there." That was when I thanked the Good Lord that I married a man with sense.
Then she said they "smelled a rotting carcass, IT SMELLED JUST LIKE A ROTTING CARCASS!"
She said it in all caps for emphasis.
That was when I thanked the Good Lord that I birthed such an honest and olfactory sensitive child.
And that I was left out of the expedition.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
Untold lessons in American History and side dishes.
I was driving home from the grocery store last night feeling like I was dodging cannonballs from the Redcoats. Everyone in SmallTown decided to set off their fireworks, some of which were very close to the road and to my Honda packed with provisions. Is this what it was like for Paul Revere while he was trying to make it home with his Diet Coke?
Growing up, we had only sparklers. The rest were illegal in Georgia. Living in Florida, most of the fireworks were legal and we always enjoyed our neighbors' fireworks across the beaver pond.
However, living in SmallTown, some of these rockets are a little too close for comfort. Either that, or I've turned into the neighborhood old lady who runs outside swinging my cane and yelling something about getting off my lawn or I'll go get my shotgun.
Not that I have a cane.
While I was at the grocery store, I ran into a friend who asked me how we were going to celebrate the 4th.
Without hesitation I answered, "Eat."
That's pretty much how we celebrate everything, isn't it? Even a funeral, which is not a celebration, of course, but requires lots of food.
Hubs' birthday is also coming up, and Daughter and I will be out of town. So we thought we'd celebrate this weekend. My idea is to celebrate his birth with the birth of the country, because that would be festive and easy and, let's face it, the two are close in age.
Oh, I kid. Our country is still young.
For Hubs' birthday I ordered Corky's BBQ. Hubs loves ribs. Good ribs. He is a rib snob. I don't judge him. I feel the same way about coffee. We are big fans of the Memphis-style BBQ. Kansas may run a close second, Texas third, and poor East Carolina trails in at the end.
I just can't get past the vinegar based meat and the idea of eating corn fritters with my BBQ. I need ketchup and brown sugar and buttered BBQ bread, or even a loaf of light bread on the table.
(Note: Light bread is just a plain loaf of sandwich bread, perfect for sopping up sauce that managed to drip off your fingers. There is nothing light about it.)
You may wonder why I'd pay an arm and a leg to have the FedEx man deliver ribs to Hubs. We have BBQ restaurants in SmallTown, but nothing compares to Corky's. The only thing better would be to take Hubs to the restaurant itself, which, looking back may have cost just as much as shipping on dry ice.
In the ribs package were beans, pulled pork (for me!) and a fudge pie. The fudge pie wasn't necessarily a required menu item, but for the small amount of extra money, I couldn't resist. All I have to do today is make some potato salad.
Potato salad is a required BBQ menu item. And, of course, I am using BBQ as a noun here.
Come to think of it, potato salad shows up on the table for a lot of meals.
When you ask a woman, "What are you taking to the cook-out?" she will answer in one of two ways.
"The men are cooking the meat, so I'm taking potato salad," or "I don't know what to bring, so I think I'll bake a cake."
For those of us who don't bake cakes, we bring that chocolate pudding dessert which has about a million names to include words like "delight" and "death."
Which brings me back to potato salad.
It also makes an appearance at funerals. Something about mourning the beloved calls out for a Tupperware or an heirloom glass bowl of potatoes smothered in Hellman's mayonnaise. What else do you eat with the bucket of fried chicken?
I have no idea how my post on Hubs' birthday turned into a tangent of side dishes, except for the fact that pretty much everything in a Southerner's life revolves around food.
Apparently, the same food.
You could call potato salad the Southerner's fruit cake. It has a long history of showing up at important events.
You know, they say some Loyalist never returned that Tupperware dish of potato salad and that's what really started the Revolution.
Have a Happy 4th!
(Just be sure to return the Tupperware.)
Growing up, we had only sparklers. The rest were illegal in Georgia. Living in Florida, most of the fireworks were legal and we always enjoyed our neighbors' fireworks across the beaver pond.
However, living in SmallTown, some of these rockets are a little too close for comfort. Either that, or I've turned into the neighborhood old lady who runs outside swinging my cane and yelling something about getting off my lawn or I'll go get my shotgun.
Not that I have a cane.
While I was at the grocery store, I ran into a friend who asked me how we were going to celebrate the 4th.
Without hesitation I answered, "Eat."
That's pretty much how we celebrate everything, isn't it? Even a funeral, which is not a celebration, of course, but requires lots of food.
Hubs' birthday is also coming up, and Daughter and I will be out of town. So we thought we'd celebrate this weekend. My idea is to celebrate his birth with the birth of the country, because that would be festive and easy and, let's face it, the two are close in age.
Oh, I kid. Our country is still young.
For Hubs' birthday I ordered Corky's BBQ. Hubs loves ribs. Good ribs. He is a rib snob. I don't judge him. I feel the same way about coffee. We are big fans of the Memphis-style BBQ. Kansas may run a close second, Texas third, and poor East Carolina trails in at the end.
I just can't get past the vinegar based meat and the idea of eating corn fritters with my BBQ. I need ketchup and brown sugar and buttered BBQ bread, or even a loaf of light bread on the table.
(Note: Light bread is just a plain loaf of sandwich bread, perfect for sopping up sauce that managed to drip off your fingers. There is nothing light about it.)
You may wonder why I'd pay an arm and a leg to have the FedEx man deliver ribs to Hubs. We have BBQ restaurants in SmallTown, but nothing compares to Corky's. The only thing better would be to take Hubs to the restaurant itself, which, looking back may have cost just as much as shipping on dry ice.
In the ribs package were beans, pulled pork (for me!) and a fudge pie. The fudge pie wasn't necessarily a required menu item, but for the small amount of extra money, I couldn't resist. All I have to do today is make some potato salad.
Potato salad is a required BBQ menu item. And, of course, I am using BBQ as a noun here.
Come to think of it, potato salad shows up on the table for a lot of meals.
When you ask a woman, "What are you taking to the cook-out?" she will answer in one of two ways.
"The men are cooking the meat, so I'm taking potato salad," or "I don't know what to bring, so I think I'll bake a cake."
For those of us who don't bake cakes, we bring that chocolate pudding dessert which has about a million names to include words like "delight" and "death."
Which brings me back to potato salad.
It also makes an appearance at funerals. Something about mourning the beloved calls out for a Tupperware or an heirloom glass bowl of potatoes smothered in Hellman's mayonnaise. What else do you eat with the bucket of fried chicken?
I have no idea how my post on Hubs' birthday turned into a tangent of side dishes, except for the fact that pretty much everything in a Southerner's life revolves around food.
Apparently, the same food.
You could call potato salad the Southerner's fruit cake. It has a long history of showing up at important events.
You know, they say some Loyalist never returned that Tupperware dish of potato salad and that's what really started the Revolution.
Have a Happy 4th!
(Just be sure to return the Tupperware.)
Thursday, July 01, 2010
More things I don't understand: Texting and Grammar of The Whipper Snappers
1. Abbreviating our abbreviations.
"K"- Short for "OK," which used to be "O.K.," which used to be "Okay."
Have we gotten so busy that we can't even add that second letter? One more keystroke, people.
2. :) and ;)- What happened to his nose?
3. Numbers for letters- Or should I say Numbers 4 letters? Texting has gotten so nuts that we are starting to use numbers to abbreviate for words.
4 replaces for.
2 replaces to.
U replaces you. So, that's not really a number.
Then there's Thanx. We dropped the "k" and "s." Why?
4. (Which is really the number 4 and not the word "for" or "fore" if I were writing about golf.)
Abbreviations for entire phrases that really have no literal meaning-
LOL- If I seriously laughed out loud this much, people would be locking me up.
ROTFL- I haven't actually done this since I was 5.
5. Here are a few of my own.
TLTUEW- Too Lazy To Use Entire Words
FHTS- Forgot How To Spell; used when I have to come up with a new word because I can't spell the original one I wanted to use.
6. Then there are the ones that don't really work.
We can't forget TOTP.
Gotta go 4 now. U have a good week. K?
TOTL- Turning Off The Laptop.
:)
Would someone please find his nose? Thanx.
"K"- Short for "OK," which used to be "O.K.," which used to be "Okay."
Have we gotten so busy that we can't even add that second letter? One more keystroke, people.
2. :) and ;)- What happened to his nose?
3. Numbers for letters- Or should I say Numbers 4 letters? Texting has gotten so nuts that we are starting to use numbers to abbreviate for words.
4 replaces for.
2 replaces to.
U replaces you. So, that's not really a number.
Then there's Thanx. We dropped the "k" and "s." Why?
4. (Which is really the number 4 and not the word "for" or "fore" if I were writing about golf.)
Abbreviations for entire phrases that really have no literal meaning-
LOL- If I seriously laughed out loud this much, people would be locking me up.
ROTFL- I haven't actually done this since I was 5.
5. Here are a few of my own.
TLTUEW- Too Lazy To Use Entire Words
FHTS- Forgot How To Spell; used when I have to come up with a new word because I can't spell the original one I wanted to use.
6. Then there are the ones that don't really work.
We can't forget TOTP.
Gotta go 4 now. U have a good week. K?
TOTL- Turning Off The Laptop.
:)
Would someone please find his nose? Thanx.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Every VBS story should have a great ending.
I still keep in touch with friends at our old church in Florida. Namely, my sidekick Steph whom I shared many a Vacation Bible School with teaching, decorating, assisting, and every other job/duty you can imagine. If it were not church, you could call us partners in crime. Since it was church, you could call us co-committee members, which is essentially one in the same.
This year the main Southern Baptist VBS theme is Saddle Ridge Ranch. The name says it all. Horses, ranches, barns, and the like. Around CowTown, it's Saddle Ridge Ranch pretty much all year long. In the Florida panhandle, notsomuch. So you can see how decorating for a horsey ranch-themed VBS can be a challenge for my buddy Stephanie.
I emailed her the other day to tell her I'd be on the hunt for any ranch-type items I can send to her in the mail. This is the first summer we have not attended their VBS. Even when we didn't live there, it always seemed that we were back for the summer. We will really miss it this year. Next year, you can bet on your horse that I'll plan our vacation around the VBS schedule. Before long, Daughter will be too old for it. Sniff. Sniff.
So, since we can't be there in person, I thought we could be there in decor.
Daughter and I went on a hunt for all things cheap and horse related. Normally, those two adjectives do not saddle up together. My goal would be to find some sort of tack dumpster where I could dive in and find old crops, saddles, and lassos. But, sadly none of those seem to exist.
We went to the local boot and tack store where I looked for inspiration. Well, I actually looked for discounted goods, but even those were not in our price range. I had a long talk with a cowboy who was determined that there were cattle all over the Florida panhandle. He swore by his hat that Steph could look some up in the phone book and ask a rancher to borrow a saddle and hay for her decoration.
I didn't have the heart or courage to argue with him.
I know there are cattle ranches in Florida, just not as numerous as this cowboy believes. Tacky tourists and oil-covered beaches? Yes.
So we left the boot shop and headed for a local crafters' store. This store is filled with numerous booths of handmade quilts, candles, wood crafts, and crochet toilet paper dolls. If nothing else, we were looking for inspiration once again.
We walked up to a booth and I pointed to a sign. As soon as Daughter read it, she let out a loud, "EWWWWW!"
The sign advertised a new bath towel for $14.99 which is designed for you to dry one end of your body on one end of the towel and the other end of your body on the other end of the towel.
It's called the "Face Butt" towel.
I'm not even kidding.
It is available in a variety of colors with the words "Face" and "Butt" sewn on each end to remind you of which end, ahem, you are supposed to dry. It's all in an effort to Go Green.
I quickly took out my phone and snapped pictures which I no longer have. There's apparently this option called "Save" that I forgot to do after taking the pictures.
I will tell you that the "Face Butt" towel is offered in Scooby Doo and John Deere prints, none of which match my bathroom decor. Drat.
In the end, pardon the pun, we did not find any horse-related VBS decor. Although, I was inspired to come home and wash all of our towels.
However, Steph, you can expect a new towel set for Christmas. Would you prefer the Princess or Patriotic theme?
P.S. As a side note, you have no idea how difficult it was for me to type the word "Butt" in my blog. For the sake of tactfulness, I was tempted to replace it with "bottom." I am guessing the "Face Bottom" towel just doesn't have the same ring to it, and I'm fairly certain that if you would make or purchase one of these towels, tactfulness is probably not your strong point.
This year the main Southern Baptist VBS theme is Saddle Ridge Ranch. The name says it all. Horses, ranches, barns, and the like. Around CowTown, it's Saddle Ridge Ranch pretty much all year long. In the Florida panhandle, notsomuch. So you can see how decorating for a horsey ranch-themed VBS can be a challenge for my buddy Stephanie.
I emailed her the other day to tell her I'd be on the hunt for any ranch-type items I can send to her in the mail. This is the first summer we have not attended their VBS. Even when we didn't live there, it always seemed that we were back for the summer. We will really miss it this year. Next year, you can bet on your horse that I'll plan our vacation around the VBS schedule. Before long, Daughter will be too old for it. Sniff. Sniff.
So, since we can't be there in person, I thought we could be there in decor.
Daughter and I went on a hunt for all things cheap and horse related. Normally, those two adjectives do not saddle up together. My goal would be to find some sort of tack dumpster where I could dive in and find old crops, saddles, and lassos. But, sadly none of those seem to exist.
We went to the local boot and tack store where I looked for inspiration. Well, I actually looked for discounted goods, but even those were not in our price range. I had a long talk with a cowboy who was determined that there were cattle all over the Florida panhandle. He swore by his hat that Steph could look some up in the phone book and ask a rancher to borrow a saddle and hay for her decoration.
I didn't have the heart or courage to argue with him.
I know there are cattle ranches in Florida, just not as numerous as this cowboy believes. Tacky tourists and oil-covered beaches? Yes.
So we left the boot shop and headed for a local crafters' store. This store is filled with numerous booths of handmade quilts, candles, wood crafts, and crochet toilet paper dolls. If nothing else, we were looking for inspiration once again.
We walked up to a booth and I pointed to a sign. As soon as Daughter read it, she let out a loud, "EWWWWW!"
The sign advertised a new bath towel for $14.99 which is designed for you to dry one end of your body on one end of the towel and the other end of your body on the other end of the towel.
It's called the "Face Butt" towel.
I'm not even kidding.
It is available in a variety of colors with the words "Face" and "Butt" sewn on each end to remind you of which end, ahem, you are supposed to dry. It's all in an effort to Go Green.
I quickly took out my phone and snapped pictures which I no longer have. There's apparently this option called "Save" that I forgot to do after taking the pictures.
I will tell you that the "Face Butt" towel is offered in Scooby Doo and John Deere prints, none of which match my bathroom decor. Drat.
In the end, pardon the pun, we did not find any horse-related VBS decor. Although, I was inspired to come home and wash all of our towels.
However, Steph, you can expect a new towel set for Christmas. Would you prefer the Princess or Patriotic theme?
P.S. As a side note, you have no idea how difficult it was for me to type the word "Butt" in my blog. For the sake of tactfulness, I was tempted to replace it with "bottom." I am guessing the "Face Bottom" towel just doesn't have the same ring to it, and I'm fairly certain that if you would make or purchase one of these towels, tactfulness is probably not your strong point.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
And then I came home and rubbed my tired bunion.
So this week has been Vacation Bible School for us. This is the first time I've helped in VBS at our new church and this time I took on a completely new job.
Making lunches.
As in Lunch Lady.
Yes, I spent the week in the church kitchen making sandwiches and learning how many orange slices make a serving. A very sweet lady came early each morning to help us get started. She works in a local elementary school lunchroom and is an expert in the lunch making.
After she left for her job, another volunteer and I finished the task. We made sandwiches, bagged grapes, sliced oranges and apples, sorted cookies, and delivered water and Popsicles.
By the end of the week I was much more educated in the food pyramid than I'd prefer, but not even close to the expertise of the sweet lunchroom worker who became my mentor. I did, however, suddenly feel the urge to go out and purchase some orthopedic shoes.
The kids all seemed to have a good time. Last night at our Wednesday night kids' activities, one of the teachers reminded them that we were having VBS this week, and that there was still a chance to attend.
One little boy who is extremely bright and the ripe old age of nine, raised his hand to comment,
"VBS? I wasn't notified."
We swallowed our giggles and apologized for his lack of notification.
Maybe I should have him help me in the lunchroom. He'd probably know exactly how many ounces of turkey make up a serving.
Making lunches.
As in Lunch Lady.
Yes, I spent the week in the church kitchen making sandwiches and learning how many orange slices make a serving. A very sweet lady came early each morning to help us get started. She works in a local elementary school lunchroom and is an expert in the lunch making.
After she left for her job, another volunteer and I finished the task. We made sandwiches, bagged grapes, sliced oranges and apples, sorted cookies, and delivered water and Popsicles.
By the end of the week I was much more educated in the food pyramid than I'd prefer, but not even close to the expertise of the sweet lunchroom worker who became my mentor. I did, however, suddenly feel the urge to go out and purchase some orthopedic shoes.
The kids all seemed to have a good time. Last night at our Wednesday night kids' activities, one of the teachers reminded them that we were having VBS this week, and that there was still a chance to attend.
One little boy who is extremely bright and the ripe old age of nine, raised his hand to comment,
"VBS? I wasn't notified."
We swallowed our giggles and apologized for his lack of notification.
Maybe I should have him help me in the lunchroom. He'd probably know exactly how many ounces of turkey make up a serving.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Random and more random
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!
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
