It was good enough for the kind officer with the pepper spray.

So, today is my birthday. I almost didn't post that.

But I did it anyway.

I spent the morning volunteering at school and had planned to go later to get my driver's license. Yes, I know it was the last minute, but I had also planned to go yesterday, only I was volunteering at school yesterday and it lasted longer than I thought.

Anyhoo.

While I was helping out with a school project, the teacher's aid brought my daughter to me to let me know she wasn't feeling well. We packed up her bag, I passed off my duties, and we headed to the DMV.

Sounds like fun. Doesn't it?

Let me tell you that I have never been so glad to have my picture taken for my driver's license. It sounds a little nuts, but it is true. Several years ago, when I had the last license renewed, I was out of state and the DMV sent me a new license without a photo.

You would think that I had tried to spin the Earth in the opposite direction.

Whenever I tried to write a check or do anything that required a photo ID, I showed my license without the photo and the clerks would be in shock. The license clearly read, "Valid Without Photo ID." All of the state patrol officers and deputy sherriffs in the country considered my driver's license valid, but the lady at Wal-mart found it questionable.

I always got comments like this...

"Wow. I've never seen one like that."

"How do you get a license without a picture?"

"I'd like one of those!"

"Hmmm.... let me get my supervisor."

Inevitably, the "Let me get my supervisor" comment always came from the 19 year old cashier at CVS or Eckerd whenever I tired to purchase my sinus medicine. It seems that once you have mastered the skills of the One Hour Photo Lab at Walgreens, you are also an expert in fake ID's and nabbing a Stay At Home Mom who is obviously trying to buy Motrin Cold and Sinus for her meth lab.

Obviously.

Sometimes I would just have a little fun with them and tell the clerks that I was in witness protection. I'd pause to see their reaction, then laugh hysterically, of course. Most of them would laugh along with me.

Then there was always Mr. DEA at the photo lab who peered at me suspiciously in the corner of his eye as he plopped open the huge Book of Sinus and Cold Medicine Suspects and handed me a pen.

Which was chained to the counter.

You can't get anything pass that guy!

;>)

On The Camping Trip: Part Two

I really hate to drag this out for you. It is kind of like taking off a Band-aid. It is much better to rip it off quickly and just get it over with. There is so much to share about this trip that there is no way it could fit into one post.

Once during a hike, I turned to my husband and said,"Oh my gosh. There is so much blog material."

Once you measure your life's events by amount of blog material, you know that you have crossed over to the other side.

Kind of like the Matrix with household tips and parenting advice.

We spent our day visiting other troops' campsites. The girls worked hard making things fun and interesting for their new Scout friends. I almost wished that I had been a Girl Scout when I was little. I was also very glad that we let daughter participate.

We were leaving one campsite, hiking to another, with some very sweet Girl Scouts from another troop leading the way. I heard them ahead of us saying,"Don't turn left. Don't turn left."

One sweet little girl took it very seriously and stood at the crossroads of the hiking trail.

"Go right! Go right! You have to go right!"

"We can't go left?"

"If you want to walk 16 miles."

(That would be .16 miles according to the sign, but I am very glad that she took her guide responsibilities very seriously. Thank you, Dedicated Scout.)

We visited one troop and later learned they had hosted some other visitors, too. Namely, two snakes in the rafters.

Lucky for them, a dad was around to retrieve the snakes and relocate them to the woods. This was the same dad who arrived at Toasty Lodge. He told hubs that the snake definitely had a pattern, as in diamond shapes.

Y'all know how I feel about patterned snakes. I prefer my snakes in solids or stripes.

Hubs does not like snakes. He doesn't mind roughing it in the woods and he really doesn't mind mice, except for the fact that they attract snakes. Oddly enough, he is more afraid of the poor sanitation at a buffet line than he is a mouse in the woods.

Because we all know that it was the failure of a sneeze guard at Ye Ole All You Care To Eat Smorgasbord that spawned the Black Plague.

Ahem.

After our supper of chili and hot dogs, we let the kids roast marshmallows and make s'mores. Article 5 of the Girl Scout handbook states, "After hiking in the woods all day with a group of giggly girls, be sure to allow them unlimited access to sugar. Make sure they stand by a huge open flame while cooking the big lumps of sugar with long, pointy things."

Somewhere in the Girl Scout archives, next to the lost Smorgasbord Plague Chronicles, you will also find Newton's Law Of Sugar Consumption which reads like this, "For every giggly girl's rise in energy level there is an equal and opposite change in their mom's energy level."

It is all very scientific.

You see, I did learn something about Girl Scouts.

Now where is that badge??!!

At this point, I would wear the vest.

:>)

On the Camping Trip: Part One

When I was a little girl I had absolutely no interest whatsoever in Girl Scouts.

No offense to the Scouts, but I thought it rather silly to learn how to start a fire, cook on it, and then sleep outside in the woods with all the creepy crawly things just to get a badge that would go on a vest that I would not be caught dead wearing out in public.

But, that's just me.

Now, I did like to play outside and get dirty, but once nightfall came, this girl wanted to go inside and get the pine sap off the bottom of her feet before climbing into her warm, pink canopy bed in her Scooby Doo pajamas.

Before I get any emails from you Die Hard Girl Scout Fanatics, please know that I realize now that I was misinformed. Girl Scouts can be fun.

But I still feel the same about the vest.

Our daughter decided at the start of the school year that she wanted to be a Girl Scout. My husband was thrilled. Me... ehhh... notsomuch, but I did not want to discourage her from trying something new. She signed up and we have been doing stuff for badges ever since.

Including camping.

In the woods. With creepy, crawly things.

Dads were allowed to go camping with us as long as they slept in a separate part of the camp. When we heard this, my daughter was tickled to death. I was ecstatic. I knew that, no matter what, we would survive. We live with Survivor Man. (Okay. I am giving him a little extra credit here. But, hey. I'm partial. He is MY Survivor Man.)

As we headed to the camp Saturday morning, I said a prayer that all the girls would be safe, no one would get lost or hurt and that everyone would have a good time.

I kept thinking that we would be in the woods yelling, "Cinnndyyy! Bobbbyyy!" with really sappy music playing in the background while some girl from our troop sat down with an Indian boy and waited for us to find her. Then some clumsy mom would get in poison ivy and, although I had come prepared with Caladryl lotion, I was not looking forward to applying it to anyone, including myself.

Clearly, I have learned all there is to know about camping from The Brady Bunch.

When we arrived just outside the campground, the mom in the van ahead of us pulled over. She called me on my cell phone to tell me we were to wait for the rest of the caravan. (Yes, I had my cell phone on a camping trip. Wouldn't you?)

So we waited. And we looked around.

I looked over to my left and there was a car without wheels turned over on its side. All we could see was the underside of the car. To my right, there were items most commonly found in landfills or on Sanford And Son. Lamont would have made some serious cash on this stuff.

Strutting around the old tires and rusty tools were a rooster and his hen. The girls got all excited and said,"Awww, he's so cute." I let them know we were not to open the doors or the windows and that roosters were not cute. They are mean and hateful.

Just like that pit bull in the back.

I started to call the other mom to warn her not to get out of the vehicle, but hubs said he could tell that the pit bull was chained and other that the fact that the rooster and hen were checking out our Camry, we were perfectly safe.

The rest of our caravan finally joined us and we entered the campground. One of the park rangers instructed hubs where he would sleep later that night and we were off to our neck of the woods.

At one point on our journey, a little girl said,"Are we supposed to be here?"

She was so right. Someone should give her a badge.

I will share the day's events with you later, but I have to tell you about that night. When it came time to turn in for the night, hubs was off to his campsite. All of the moms in our group felt sorry for him saying, "Ahhh. Poor guy. He is going to be all alone at that camping area where they don't even have electricity."

I assured all of them that he would be perfectly fine. I knew that he would be all warm and cozy in his sleeping bag. I also knew that he liked the challenge of roughing it.

Hubs was actually looking forward to it because he has no problem starting a fire, cooking over it, then sleeping in the woods with creepy crawly things. In fact, he really wanted to make a shelter with twigs and straw, even though that didn't work out very well for the Three Little Pigs.

So when he drove away into the dark, cold night, I had no sympathy for him whatsoever.

(I am callous and cruel and, as it turns out, cold, too.)

When it came time for us to turn in, I ended up sharing a cot with my daughter. There was another cot open, but I was concerned that my daughter would wake up in a strange place and be afraid or cold. We each had our own sleeping bags and we settled in.

Throughout the night, I kept telling daughter to keep her cap on to keep her head warm.

"I am warm, Mommy. I just want to wear my gloves."

"No, you have to wear the cap that Daddy gave you. You could get sick."

"But I don't like it."

"I don't care. Wear it anyway."

All the while, I was pretty warm. All except for my face. I had the hood of my sweatshirt pulled over my head, but my face stayed cold all night. I could have covered my face with something but I felt that breathing was more important than comfort.

When we met hubs at the campfire the next morning, he had already started a buzz. It seems that when he went to his campsite (you know, the one without electricity where he would be all alone and cold and blah blah blah), he managed to meet the head park ranger who showed him a lodge where he could sleep.

They had quite the conversation about camping and the like and the park ranger told hubs that he didn't have to sleep in one of the tents outside. No. He was welcome to sleep in the lodge and start a fire.

Hubs said,"Are you sure?"

"Why yes."said the Ranger.

And then he gave hubs his own lighter.

By the time another dad arrived at the lodge, hubs had the fire going and the place was all warm and toasty. All they needed was the marshmallows.

Um, yeah. He had it sooo tough.

There I was with Cindy Brady, eating beans from a flashlight while he was off at the Huxtables' eating Cliff's famous chili.

Somebody please give me a badge.

Y'all have no idea.

If words could express the weekend I have had, I would eloquently pen them on handmade paper while sipping espresso and listening to Yanni.

Yet, I shall not. I am just plum tired. (How's that for eloquent?)

I've been camping.

When I've regained consciousness and sanity, I will share it all with you.

Be dazzled.

I have to tell y'all the rest of the story about the white flowers and how, most of the time, when I can remember what on Earth I am supposed to do, I tend to be the reliable Mom.

Except for the time I missed a school meeting for parents of exceptional kids because I FORGOT. Go ahead and give me my itinerary for that guilt trip.

Anyway.

Yesterday when I met daughter for lunch, it was only after she had asked her daddy the night before and he said he couldn't go. I knew this as soon as she asked me, but I didn't even hint that I had figured out her plight.

I asked Hubs, "Did she ask you to go to lunch with her first and you said you couldn't?"

"Yep."

"That's what I thought."

Not that I feel rejected or anything.

When I showed up at the lunchroom to meet daughter, Chick-Fil-A kids' meal in hand, guess who was walking with the class alongside daughter?

Yep, Hubs.

Daughter was tickled to death to have both Mom and Dad at lunch. Everyone probably thought it was her birthday and we were just too cheap to send in cupcakes.

Apparently, hubs managed to get his work done and was able to get away at lunch. He knew I was going, but decided to go anyway. It was a quiet family affair in the midst of the cafeteria chaos.

I turned to daughter and said,"You know, I told your grandmother that your daddy is the sequin vest, all shiny and sparkly and fun. And I am the old, worn out sweatshirt, all boring and tired, but reliable and warm."

Hubs just laughed and, after an explanation of the analogy, daughter laughed, too.

Then I said,"Really, Daddy is a sweatshirt that has been bedazzled because he is really reliable, but he is fun and sparkly all at the same time."

Daughter thought this was a hoot and said,"Daddy! You've been bedazzled!!"

Yes, but did he bring any flowers?

;>)

Boy. I'm just glad it wasn't orchids.

Last night, about this time, I got an interesting request.

"Mommy, I need to bring either one or two white carnations to school."

Keep in mind that the little person making the request was actually supposed to be asleep and I was sitting at the laptop in my pajamas.

"When do you need the flowers?"

"Um, tomorrow or the next day would be good."

(deep sigh)

"It would have been helpful for you to tell me earlier today when I could have stopped somewhere to get the flowers. Now we have to get up early tomorrow and go to Publix to buy some."

"I'm sorry."

"Ok. Go to bed. Do you need a dozen cupcakes, too?"

Giggle, giggle.

Fast forward to this morning in Publix less than an hour after they opened and before the retirees have even completed their morning walks. (Too early.)

Thinking to myself, "I hate carnations. I know what experiment they are doing, the one with the food coloring. How am I going to find a white carnation at the grocery store at the crack of dawn before I've had a full cup of coffee..."

"Honey, we may not find carnations."

"That's OK. The teacher said white roses work pretty good."

Thinking to self, "Roses from Publix for a school project."

"I don't see any carnations or roses. They have daisies and mums."

"Actually, the teacher said any white flower will do."

Muttering to self.

"Which ones do you want?"

"Daisies."

Pay for bouquet of white daisies.

Thinking to self, "Much better than carnations."

Meet daughter for lunch, hours later...

Teacher- "Thanks for the white flowers. I asked the kids to bring in one or two if they could. Now we will have enough to try different colors. It is such a neat experiment for them."

Sit down to eat with daughter-

"Mommy, I was the only one who brought flowers in today."

Smile.

So this lady walks into a card shop.

"Hello, may I help you?" asked the twenty-something clerk.

"Yes, I would like a birthday card," said the lady.

"We don't have birthday cards," said the clerk.

Puzzled, the lady replied,"What do you mean you don't have birthday cards? This is a card shop. Isn't it?"

And the dialogue continued.

"Yes, this is a card shop, but we stopped carrying birthday cards because we feel that it offends the people who come in here and do not want birthdays, do not celebrate birthdays or do not have birthdays."

"Huh?"

"Now we only carry Happy Day cards. Let me show you..."

"I don't want a Happy Day card. I want a Happy Birthday card."

"You can squeeze Birth in front of Day on the Happy Day cards."

"Wha??"

"Oh, wait a minute...let me get a pen." (slash, slash)

"There. I crossed out Happy on the Happy Day cards. I don't want to offend anyone who comes in here and doesn't feel happy. I wouldn't want to upset them. You can buy a Day card."

Lady stands speechless.

"Ooops. Wait a second." (slash, slash)

"There. I crossed out Day. I don't want to offend anyone who works the night shift or any of the bats and possums."

"Or better yet. Why don't you just not buy a card? There is just too much energy wasted in signing and reading a card. Take one of these."

Hands something to the lady.

"What's this?"

"It's a seedling. Go plant a holiday tree. I hear they used to have something to do with someone's birthday."

:>)

I knew her when...

My sweet, talented friend Nancy has just added some new pieces to her gallery.

I am sitting on the sofa writing about stray cats and vegetable injuries and she is busy creating things like this.

Visit her blog to see some of her new works and take a peek at her entire gallery in the sidebar.

I hope one day she'll remember the little people like me.

(sigh)

;>)

Bon Appetit! Medic!

Yesterday I was at Publix trying my best to find anything remotely nutritious that did not include turkey, cornbread or sweet potatoes.

Because I've had about enough of that for a while... or at least until Christmas.

So I decided to get gourmet (not) and make a pasta dish with shrimp and a creamy sauce and even warm up some croissants which made me want to walk around saying things like,"Oui, oui, Mademoiselle....Ratatouille...French Dressing."

I am so refined.

Then I got all uppity and decided that I would cook an artichoke. Not in the can. Not in a dip. A fancy, fresh artichoke.

I am seriously considering writing a letter to someone because they need to post a warning on those artichokes. I reached for one and as I arrogantly put it in my cart, the little green thing stabbed me right there in the produce section next to the asparagus and the zucchini, with small children watching.

It was quite dangerous and I think others should be warned. You know, those artichokes have been known to kill people.

I even warned the cashier,"Look out for that artichoke. It is prickly. I poked myself."

That sentence alone should tell you why the artichoke is still on my kitchen counter awaiting a brilliant roasting recipe with a balsamic something or other and why maybe I need to stick with recipes which call for things like turkey, cornbread and sweet potatoes.

Miss Congeniality takes on a whole new meaning.

All I can say about this girl is Bless Her Heart.

And I don't care where she is from, this girl has some Southern blood in her. Any girl who can survive pepper spray and hives and still keep that kind of height on her hair deserves a crown.

I'm just sayin.'

Shop 'til you pull something.

In Ye Grand Ole American tradition, I joined the other turkeys yesterday for some shopping on the day after Thanksgiving.



Also Known As- The one day of the year when even the sweetest old lady can turn into a monster while diving for the last Elmo on the shelf at Wal-mart and all at the hour of 4:00 AM.



I think these same women are the ones who will hurt you while trying to catch the bride's bouquet. In fact, Black Friday shopping is training for catching the bride's bouquet. If it weren't for the fact that there was no chiffon or taffeta, I would have thought I was a bridesmaid all over again.

But I have never been in the early crowd. No. I'm a late shopper. I usually show up around 10:00 or 11:00 AM. You pros out there are probably aghast, but I just can't get up that early for any sale. Unless the stores start handing out espresso and diamonds for free, I will be all snug in my bed when the last Elmo leaves the shelf at 4:05 AM.

I found some pretty cute items and managed to get some Christmas shopping done. I can't say what because I never know who is reading this blog, but let's just say that nearly everyone in my family was represented in my shopping bags.

I've been looking for a new stainless flatware set for us and I found a really pretty one for 50 % off. Score! I am so happy with it. Hubs and daughter looked at me strangely and rolled their eyes when I came home and sat at the kitchen table, carefully unwrapping the new,shiny spoons and forks and squealing with excitement.

It doesn't take much, folks.

Give my daughter a few years or so. She'll understand. Hubs? He'll never get it. He's a man. He can't help it.

At the end of my shopping spree, I really could have shopped more, but the silverware was literally weighing me down. You should have seen me at one of those benches in the mall, trying to balance the weight of it all in both hands.

A man was sitting at a bench across from me, watching me struggle. He probably thought,"I'll bet my wife has that much stuff by now."

I managed to balance the goods so that I could hobble off to the car which, of course, was parked at the opposite end of the mall. It's a good thing, too. I could have really hurt myself. You know, shoppers have been known to pull a muscle or throw a back out from not using proper shopper body mechanics.

The only other place you see an injury like that is at a wedding.

;>)

The table is set.

This Thanksgiving we stayed at home, just the three of us. I still cooked the turkey with all of the fixings, along with some pies.

I told my daughter a few days ago, as we were getting ready for the day, that she could decorate the table. She designed the no-sew runner and place mats for us, and helped me pick out the dishes we would use.

While making the place mats, she asked about a Bible verse to write on them. I took the opportunity to show her how to use the concordance, and we looked up "thanks."

After searching through several verses, she chose this one-

"And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who hath enabled me, for that he counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry." 1 Tim. 1:12

And so we set the table. With store bought linens alongside handmade ones, wedding crystal with Grandmom's wheat dishes and depression glass. A hodgepodge of items with meanings of their own. Some memories- old. Others- new.

Even though we set the table for three, there is room for more. I hope that I would always make someone feel welcome at our table, in our home. I always want to have a place for someone else.

Especially for Jesus. My hope is that I would always make room for Him at our table. I hope that I would welcome Him if He arrived on our porch as a hungry man or a lonely widow. As a loved one in need of comfort, a relative in need of a kind word, or a neighbor searching for a friend.

I hope that I would welcome Him always. In thought. In word. In deed. In giving thanks on this day and every day.

Thank you, Jesus for everything you have given. Thank you for my salvation. Thank you for my husband and my beautiful daughter. Thank you for parents who took me to church. Thank you for sweet friends I can call on in the night. Thank you for all you have done. I didn't deserve any of it and that is what makes me thank you even more.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Got the Thanksgiving Jitters?

If you are up late tonight, making a pie and trying to figure out why on Earth that bird has not thawed yet, let me just give you a few helpful tips.

If you forgot an ingredient in something, don't worry. Wal-mart is still open.

The goal is not perfection. No. The goal is to keep everyone out of the ER and Uncle Ray off of COPS.

Remember, you aren't your grandmother. I have no idea how she did it. My only guess is that there was something in the water back then that made her have more energy, more sense, and more cooking skills.

Martha Stewart makes it all look soooo easy. She has one secret. It's called "staff."

If you are still up and reading this, stop now and check that bird. It should have thawed by now.

Happy cooking!

Michael W. Smith- Blogger Preview

Check this site for a great opportunity to decorate for Christmas
while listening to Michael W. Smith and then blog about it.

How cool is that?

Thanks to Michael W. Smith for this great offer.

The wisdom of a young cowboy

I saw this yesterday and it brought me to tears. Get a tissue before you listen.

If you are a little down this Thanksgiving, if you have lost a loved one, if you are struggling in your marriage, if you are going through a divorce or a serious illness, just remember there is a God who loves you.

Just run to Him.

Click here to listen to Logan.

How much for a trade-in?

Yesterday morning hubs found what one could call a surprise on the bathroom rug and on a towel, although we wouldn't call it a surprise, because Maggie has been quite consistent with her kidney related issues- the ones in which the Vet ran a complete panel of tests and said there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. Well, at least not physically.

So I tossed them both in the washing machine. (The rug and towel. Not Maggie and the Vet.)

Then the intruder arrived on the porch, all sweet and nice and purring and lounging on my wicker furniture without leaving a stain.

Last night when we went to bed, I told hubs that I was putting Maggie in the garage.

He said,"ALL NIGHT?"

"Yes. It's not cold outside."

"Poor, poor Maggie. She is getting banished to the garage."

"Well, she needs to quit going on the rugs."

So this morning I let her in and she let out a moan and a groan in an Oh, The Trouble I've Seen fashion that would have alerted the Humane Society. She didn't stop griping until she got to the kitchen so that she would look sweet and impress me so that I would feed her.

It's all about her.

I tell you what. This cat of mine. She is like the little old lady in the fur coat who has spent her entire life managing the ladies' rummage sale and now she suddenly decides to get a convertible and ride around in Paris shopping for high heel shoes and drinking Perrier with lime. Then she arrives at the family reunion with a new boyfriend who is at least 25 cat years younger than her, and they are both sporting tattoos that say,"Simba" and tiger's eye belly button rings.

If they had belly buttons.

Listen up, Maggie. There is a sweet, short haired replacement with better bladder control and manners waiting outside on the porch. You'd better start losing that mid-life crisis of yours, or the garage will be the least of your worries.

In case you are new to my blog, please know that Maggie could be going on my husband's pillow and I wouldn't give her up. My pillow? Well... ;>)

That Noah!

Here is an update on my porch, my day, and an overdue photo of a cardboard watercraft.

Daughter is out of school and, other than one errand this morning, our day was completely open for some extraordinary entertainment. We planned our Thanksgiving table decor AKA excuse for crafting and we watched the intruder on our porch.

Daughter found him lounging on the wicker love seat. We decided to let him stay. He looked harmless enough. I took out the trash later and found him nestled with one of the scarecrows in a wicker chair. When I tried to snap his picture, he jumped down and gave me this pitiful look-

Right after he rubbed his head on my foot.

Notice the flip flops. I realize it is November, but it is still flip flop weather where I live.

So, anyhoo.

I went outside again and this time our little intruder wanted to go back inside with me. I guess the wicker wasn't comfortable enough for him.

When I told him, "No, sweetie. You have to stay out here. We already have a kitty cat. You can hang out on our porch and we won't bother you," he gave me this look-

The "I can't believe you are giving me the It's not you, it's me routine. "

Nothing like being rejected by a cat that you just rejected.

Ouch.

On another note, here is the long overdue Noah's Ark photo from Trunk Or Treat. I know. It is so lamely late. I promise that the photo is crooked, not the ark. Either that or I need the tires checked.



Exactly how many cats did Noah take on the ark? I wonder. All of their descendants end up on my porch.

If I ever go missing, just send out a team of stray cats. They always seem to find me.

Comment of the Week # 9

This week's award goes to Annie for her sweet comment to this post.



"That is so sweet. I loved sleep overs as a little girl. I even try to have big girl sleepover parties every once in awhile. When the universe conspires and all the daddies can watch all the babies. I call the extra children in my life my born of the heart babies. They just grow in my heart until it gives birth to an awesome love." -Annie


"Born of the heart." I love that! :>)

Portion size is in the eye of the beholder.

After all of the talk about my people and their large portions, it got me to thinking.

The women in my family can put away some groceries.

And I do not mean in the pantry.

Now that I think about it, none of us are rail thin. Most of us have had our moments of "Don't she look good?"s, but for the most part, we are all prepared for winter.

And that's all I will say.

My grandmother, Mama's mother, was very tiny when she passed away. She wasn't always that way. She had put on a little weight (the Southern way of saying one needs a girdle) and then she had bypass surgery which put the Fear Of God in her. From that point on, she ate like a bird.

She would take tiny bites off of a potato chip and then put it down. Who puts down a potato chip? She would always say she was getting full and when you offered her something from the table she would say,"Oh. Just a temp." That was her word for a small portion. (Like half a bite.)

But put a plate of fried catfish or popcorn shrimp in front of her and it was no holds barred. Granny could eat some fish. Oh, yes she could. Whenever our family had a fish fry, Granny could nearly beat my Daddy in the number of catfish fillets consumed.

Did I ever mention that my Daddy is also skinny as a rail? He is the only man I know who can actually tighten his belt after a large meal. Why, oh why did I not inherit this gene?

My daughter runs a close second to Daddy these days when it comes to eating a platter of catfish. The child will eat an adult entree complete with cheese grits and hush puppies. (And she is skinny as a rail.)


Granny would be so proud.

I'm off to the chair...

Checking in to say hello and thanks for your fashion advice. I am off to get my hair done, and it is only Thursday.

I still have to share the Road Trip with y'all. Combine that info with the beauty shop scoop I am soon to learn, and we may be on to something...

See you in a bit-