And free samples wouldn't hurt either.

I promise to write about something other than running, but I will give y'all a quick update.  

After last week's incident with the pit bull, I decided to run the entire 2.4 miles without stopping the very next day.  No pit bulls were around.  I was just crazy.  I made it, but within minutes there were muscles that began to hurt that I didn't even know I had.  And I took Anatomy and Physiology I and II.  By the end of the day I was walking (if you want to call it that) around like a cowgirl who had gone on a long cattle drive without a saddle or a brain. 

But, by the next day I felt much better and Hubs was quite impressed. I think the word surprised would be more appropriate.  As of this morning, I ran about 3 more mailboxes past the last point.  I am sorry to speak in mailbox measurements but the metric system has always been confusing for me.

So that is my update. I'm about three weeks ahead of schedule.  I guess that would be ten or so mailboxes ahead.

Other than the running, I've been doing the usual things like housework and laundry and taxi service and grocery shopping and watching Rachael Ray while writing terrible run-on sentences. 

I have just one question.  Really, I have many but y'all are kind of enough to read this far, so I won't bore you. 

Who cleans up all the salt that Rachael tosses over her shoulder?  She tosses salt in the corner of her kitchen every single time she cooks. There must be a least several inches of salt in a little pile by the end of the week. Does she do this at home?  I don't know about you, but I would throw luck to the wind if it meant I had to clean up salt off the floor.

See, this is what I spend my time thinking about.

This and the new Ellen JCPenney commercials.  They are a hoot.  They make me want to shop at JCPenney just so I can return an item. 

Seriously, I have fond memories of shopping at JCPenney.  Before malls even existed Mama and I would go shopping at JCPenney in this little shopping center in what they called midtown.  To me, the store was huge.  It had two floors and I loved riding the escalator. 

The very best part of it, though, was the candy counter.  I felt like I was in New York City or Atlanta.  The candy counter had shiny glass shelves displaying fancy chocolates.  Mama always let me get chocolate covered peanut clusters and I can remember the lady using the silver scoop to pour them onto the scale.  Then she put them into a white paper bag and handed them to me. I probably finished them before we got out of the store.

I can imagine how sticky my fingers must have been and how much chocolate I must have smeared on the merchandise. Chances are Mama made me clean my hands as soon as I was done because she always had Kleenex in her purse.

When the store moved to the mall, they no longer had a candy counter.  I was so disappointed. 

Now that's an idea, JCPenney.  Forget no hassle return policies.  Bring back the chocolate covered peanut clusters and I am so there.

Only then I'd have to run like a million mailboxes...

And I ran. I ran so far away.

After over a week of no running, I decided to jump back on the proverbial treadmill. 

When Hubs got home from work the other day, he asked if I wanted to run.  I said a firm, "Yes," and turned off the taco meat.  (See, I told you our dinner menu is full of boring. However, I am thankful for the suggestions so far. Keep them coming!)

We have a timeline of goals that we are trying to meet.  To be honest, I am the one with the goals since Hubs is already capable of running a 5k.  Hubs keeps saying "we" because he is kind and considerate and doesn't want me to feel badly about the fact that one of my first goals was .25 mile.  (That's about 3 mailboxes.)

This is why I love him.

That an the fact that he was the cute one in my sociology class and he makes me laugh.

So, WE have goals that Hubs has set for us leading up to the 5k in May.  I mean, you can't go straight from watching the Amazing Race on the DVR to actually running a 5k.   There are like a hundred mailboxes in between.

Needless to say, with the allergies and the sickness, WE are behind our goal.  I had some catching up to do.  So, we ran the other day with the idea in mind that I would run as far as possible. Considering the time we have been off our game, I didn't think it would be very far.

At a few points, I did have to stop and walk a few steps to catch my breath. Hubs is always kind enough to stop with me and pretend he is tired, too. (More reason to love him.) I did keep going and at one point I seemed to get my stride.

Then we rounded a corner and out of nowhere my motivation came running at me. 

Two stray pit bulls ran toward us out of nowhere.  Let me tell you, when I joked around about only running when something was chasing me I did not expect for something to ACTUALLY BE CHASING ME.

The moment of panic turned into a moment of relief when we realized the pit bulls were friendly.  One of them ran away but the other one decided to join our pack and stayed with us.  We kept telling him to go home but he was determined to stay.  Maybe he liked us.  Maybe he thought I needed to run a little faster.

At one point along our run, he decided to visit another dog in a neighbor's yard. The dog was not happy about it, but there was no confrontation. (Whew.)  Our new canine friend left the dog alone and continued to run with us.  Hubs called the police to connect us with animal control, but they would not respond after hours. (Not only we were concerned about the dog being loose, we were concerned about the dog.  He was obviously friendly and we didn't want to see him hurt.)

The pit bull followed us all the way home.  I called a local shelter number and was also told they wouldn't come pick him up due to budget cuts unless it was an emergency.  As concerned citizens and dog lovers, we considered it an emergency, but what do we know? We only pay the taxes.

After all the running hoopla, I turned the taco meat back on and we had our tacos.  Dinner turned out to be exciting after all. 

We cleaned up the kitchen and Hubs mapped out our run.  I managed to run (with a few walking breaks) beyond our goal. I'd like to say it was because of my awesome coach, but the fact is that the closest thing to a lion motivating you to run is actually a friendly pit bull.

The next day, however, I had a different kind of motivation- stubbornness.  That part tomorrow...

Edited to add: The friendly pit bull left our porch and was found by another friendly neighbor who apparently found his home. I love happy endings. Don't you?

On the menu: Sunshine and Tacos

Yesterday was pretty much the first day I have seen a cloud-free sky.  Hello, Florida, The Sunshine State.  We've had rain and cold and rain and cold and more rain.  It is nice to finally see the sun.
However, I can't really see the sun as well as I would like because my eye is killing me. It is all red and painful.  I'm pretty sure it is conjunctivitis also known as pinkeye.  Mine is allergy induced, so I am trying to wait it out before going to the doctor.  I am allergic to hay, so my guess is that I rubbed my eye while at the barn over the weekend during Daughter's horseback lessons.

Good times.

Later today I have to grab a few groceries and run some errands. I need new ideas for dinner. My poor family is probably tired of baked chicken, roast, and tacos. Sometimes I spice things up and make spaghetti. I know! I am such the Iron Chef.

So, any ideas out there for family dinners?  Any great recipe sites that you love?  I am open to some new menu items.  Can't wait to hear!

Edited to add: The good news is that I started this post on yesterday and since then my eye is better. I am happy because vision has always been helpful when one is trying to blog.

I think the science fair kids should predict the weather.

Well, I don't know about y'all, but I do not believe that groundhog for a minute.  According to my sinuses, spring has already arrived.  I wish the pollen would just crawl back into a hole, like Mr. Punxsutawney Phil himself.

I had to look up Punxsutawney.  I always thought it was Pox-hutawney, as in the chicken pox. It is actually Punx-sutawney as in "You punks get off my lawn!"

I like Punx much better.

But I still think he is a terrible weather man.

I have neither run nor walked this week. It is partly because of the rain we are having, partly because of the crud I am having, and partly because I have just been lazy.  Once I get out of a routine of exercising, I tend to get into a routine of being on the computer and making trips to Target.  As much as I love me some Target, I love the feeling and effects of exercise much better. 

I do think I need to be cautious when I return to running. I am new to the whole exercise thing, but so far  I have found that there are a few critical necessities when exercising. One is a good pair of shorts that doesn't ride up and the other is you know, breathing.

I find the breathing part to be even more important than the shorts, but that's just me.

(Besides, it doesn't really matter how cute those shorts are if you are gasping for air. That's not cute at all.)

There have been some exciting things that have happened this week. Daughter received Honorable Mention in her category at the regional science fair.  We are so, so proud of her.  I  have to say that I was a bit disappointed that they didn't hand out a special award for parents who survived the science fair, but since they probably don't have awards for oyster shucker or dead crab panhandler, I guess we shouldn't be surprised.

If y'all ever want to feel inadequate or average,  just go to a regional science fair. Those middle schoolers and high schoolers are little geniuses in small sport coats and heels (worn by separate people, of course.)

The questions from the judges were tough, too.  During the judging,  Daughter overheard one of the judges ask another contestant nearby, "Where did you get your cobalt nitrate?" 

Those were my thoughts exactly.

Those science kids are smart.  By the end of the awards ceremony last night I realized that I pretty much slept through high school physics and that I should give up on my dreams of becoming either an astronaut or an engineer.

And we all know NASA will miss my contributions.

This leads me to my last point.  (Were the rest of these random thoughts points?)

I took a test last night to see whether I was a right brain or a left brain.  In case you were wondering, I am completely a right brain.  I'm pretty sure Hubs is a left brain and Daughter is a right brain.  My guess is that most of you are right brains, too.  If you've never taken the test, just Google it and tons of little quizzes pop up. Let me know your results.

I'll be right here looking up cobalt nitrate.

I blame my lack of fitness on all the germs.

Wouldn't you know it? The minute I posted all over the Internet that I am preparing for a race, I have not run one step, not even walked. It is pitiful, really. I blame it on being busy because lazy is less flattering.


Last week, Daughter competed in the regional science fair.  We won't know the results until this week. My nails are about bitten off with anticipation. We had a brief but dramatic moment (kind of like a heart attack) when her logbook had gone AWOL.  It was lost, but now it is found, so she was able to compete with all of her data and notes about how vinegar breaks down crab shells more than chicken bones. And we all know how much we needed that data.

We picked up her science fair board on Thursday and as I popped it into the car, I let out a sigh of relief. Some people will say that science fairs aren't stressful, but those people are also probably the parents of children who choose projects like growing tomato plants or building a volcano out of a Coke bottle. Not my child, no. She wants to help the world learn why acid breaks down exoskeletons faster than endoskeletons in an effort to cure osteoporosis.  And, yes, I realize I should be proud (I am,) but I am also tired.

In addition to all the science, Daughter has been sick with a cold/sinus infection/ear infection, although I believe the pediatrician's official diagnosis was "The Snot."  Daughter is much better, but from the looks of things on my sofa this weekend, Hubs is coming down with it, too. He had the sniffles and sore throat one morning and he was camped out under the favorite family blanket.


As of this morning, I have this stuff, too.  My throat feels like little elves were working on it with sandpaper all night and I really would love a nap. But, it is Monday and things need to get done.

Too bad Daughter's science fair project didn't involve throat gargles and Mucinex.  We'd all be much better by now.

There's always next year...

Run, Forrest, Run

I have always told y'all that I am not a fan of running. And by not a fan, I mean, I hate it.  I have never understood, to save my life, why anyone would choose to run unless someone or some thing was chasing them. 

When I picture the perfect world of the Garden of Eden before sin entered into it, I don't envision Adam and Eve lacing up their shoes with some kind of lightweight vine and jogging circles around the Tree of Knowledge.  I picture them sitting around eating Reese's cups and sipping whole milk lattes.

Hey, don't judge me.  You have your Eden; I have mine.

The reality, of course, is that Adam and Eve would have been dining on fresh fruits and veggies and drinking pure water without the use of a filter, but one can dream. ( Reese's weren't invented yet.)

A little over a year ago, I had some health issues which were brought to my attention.  Okay, full disclosure.  The doctor pretty much told me if I didn't do something to be a little more healthy, that I was on a path to a stroke or a heart attack.  Well, he didn't really say that...oh, wait, yes he did.

Up until that point, doctors had always said,"You know you need to lose weight.  Your blood pressure is creeping up.  Your cholesterol is borderline."  They said all those things, and I knew all those things, but it wasn't until someone bluntly and honestly said "All those things are true and this will be you in twenty years if you don't do something about it" that made me think.

If I could choose a word for how that made me feel it be would this one-  UNCOMFORTABLE.

Since I had Daughter, the baby weight didn't really go away and actually kept creeping on.  I went through phases of trying to lose weight and get healthy. I tried everything I knew how, including the crazy protein diet which just made me absolutely hate bacon. Anything that makes you hate bacon is just wrong.

So, with that doctor's blunt encouragement and a whole lot of determination, I decided to get healthy.  The goal was health, not weight loss. I wasn't so much worried about how I looked but I decided that living was much better than the alternative.

I started walking several times a week with a great bunch of ladies who have all become lifetime friends. (One of them already was.)  I started eating better, drinking water, and doing a lot of what Adam and Eve probably did in the garden, except for the fact that I had to get my fresh produce from Albertson's.

I am here to report that I feel much better. My health is better, even though I still have to take medicine.  I am not saying this to be all preachy and tell you to put down that Reese's cup (I had some in my Christmas stocking)but I have changed my mind,at list a little bit, on all the fitness and exercise.

We moved back to Florida and I started walking again.  It is not the same without all my BWBFs (Best Walking Buddies Forever.) I told Hubs that I was bummed and that I needed a challenge.  I started running short distances, as in from one mailbox to the other.

Hubs said,"You should run a 5K. It could be a goal and I will help you."

Let me stop right here and tell you that Hubs has never suggested that I run.  It is like him suggesting that I go to the post office or the library. He knows what I hate doing and what is way out of my comfort zone.  Even in my twenties, I loathed running.  Walking made sense to me.  Walking is pleasant.  Running is not. 

However, in an ironic "Well, I'll be!" moment, I agreed to run a 5K in May with Hubs.

Yes, people.  I choose to run.

Don't get me wrong. I still don't really like it and at the half mile point, I have to imagine a roaring lion lunging toward me from behind the community mailbox to keep going, but when I am finished, I feel great. 

The best part is that when I am done I stop and say to myself, "Hey. What do ya know? I can do this!" (I say this to myself in my head since I can't really breathe at that point.)

Now that it is all over the Internet, I am fully accountable to the one or two of you who read this.  I will keep you posted on my progress. So far, I have gone a little over halfway without collapsing in the road.

5K is a long way to run when you aren't actually being chased by a lion.

A Short Recap of Boring, Except For All The Cute Puppies

Well, it's Monday and where do I begin?

It feels like last week was a blur, so we will skip right over that update and go straight to the weekend.  

All day Saturday we worked in the yard, pulling weeds, cleaning out Hubs' garden spot, and feeding the turtles in the pond.  Jessie (our dog) loves hanging out by the pond, but she always require a good foot washing when she comes inside, or at least a paw washing. Saturday it required a full up bath.

After all the yard work, Daughter and I worked together on the floors.  We made sure Jessie stayed outside for that.

That evening I decided we would go out to eat since all my muscles were sore and I honestly didn't feel like cooking.  We went for Italian food at a new place and it was yummy.

Hmmm... come to think of it, the yard work idea may have been a good plan.

On Sunday, we had church, a few errands, and then the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet. Hubs is not a football fan (unless you are referring to the kind of football that requires soccer cleats) so we watch the Puppy Bowl as a family.  It is a hoot.  We were able to watch most of it and then headed off to church in the evening.  It is a good thing we have the DVR. We can watch the second half tonight. Shhh....don't tell me who won and spoil it!

How was your weekend?  Did you watch the Super Bowl?  The Puppy Bowl?  A TLC marathon?

You gotta respect the roll.

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

Yeah, my week is a trip.

(Sorry.)

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

I know you are shocked and amazed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

My sweater looked fine, but there was another problem.

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

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

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

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

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

Scully, is it you? Yuuup

I go through television show phases.

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Yeah, but who's that guy?"

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

"I'm going to bed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, THAT would be valuable.

Just ask my husband.

Who is the crazy lady in the card store?

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

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

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

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

Okay, that's not really a prize.

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frozen baked goods and '80s TV

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

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

You're welcome.

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

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

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

This post is all over the place.

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

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

Am I right?

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

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

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

 

The only resolve I have is for the carpets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, ANYWAY.

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

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

2. Replace cooktop. See previous blog posts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are you?"

"The mall."

"Me, too."

"Where are you?"

"Near the food trough."

"Meet me outside Hallmark."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geesh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was a pristine parenting moment, people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Good."

Crickets chirping.

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

"The box."

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

"No."

More crickets.

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

I asked again about the closeout one.

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

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

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

Ahem.

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

"I need gas," I said.

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

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

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

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

Wobbly pots.

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

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

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

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

That part of the story tomorrow.

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

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

Fresh Market rocks. 

(See, not Shakespeare.)

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

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

Here is what they brainstormed:


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

13.  Izze- They sell it.  Enough said.

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

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

"Why, yes."

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

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

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

"Why, thank you.  You are most kind."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh," he said. 

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

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

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

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

Ketchup fixes everything.

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

Then Hubs spoke up in an effort of encouragement. 

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

I put down my fork and laughed. 

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

"Ummmm..."

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

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

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

And so I did.

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

And the award for soliciting specimens goes to...

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

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

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

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

We are crazy busy with the decorating.

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

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

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

Not a post, but more of a survey really.

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

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

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

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

Nope. Not at all. AHEM.

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

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

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

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

So, despite her best efforts, I missed it. 

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

Sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucky me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FREE DEAD CRAB. 

I really should put that in bold... 

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

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

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

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

Then there is the science fair.

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

And don't even get me started on graphs.

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

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

It gives your mom a migraine.

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

She picked bone loss.

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

Did I mention she volunteered? I did?

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

Are you still here?

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

Until yesterday.

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

Chicken bone- check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks, Mike.

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

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

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

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