Linda's Random Dozen

This is Linda's Random Dozen as opposed to The Dirty Dozen who really didn't eat doughnuts like the ones seen above.

Thanks, Lid!!

1. When you go to Wowmart, what one thing do you get every single time, besides a funky-wheeled squeaking cart full of frustration?

Diet Coke, if it is in stock. For some reason, it is hard to find 6-pack 16. oz bottles of Diet Coke in Smalltown. I get it when I can. (Sadly, I've just revealed my addiction.)

2. What is something that people are currently "into" that you just don't get or appreciate?

Facebook and MySpace. Of course, my friends on Facebook don't get why I blog.

3. What is something that really hoists your sail that other people might feel "ho-hum" about?

Hmmm... I get really excited about elections. This makes me more of a nerd than anything.

4. Favorite song to sing in the shower or car?

Aretha Franklin tunes. The Queen and I go way back. I also play her classic tunes when I am in a terrible mood. Hubs knows this, so when he walks in from work and I'm playing This Is This House That Jack Built he knows that I WAS in a bad mood and that I am currently in a good one. Lucky for him, he also doesn't ask any questions.

5. A really great salad must have this ingredient:

Good dressing. The rest doesn't really matter.

6. Advice in a nutshell to new bloggers (one or two sentences):

Decide ahead of time how much you want "out there." Stick to those guidelines.

Don't get too hung up on how many comments you receive.

7. What was the alternate name that your parents almost named you? Do you wish they had chosen it instead of the one they gave you?

Amanda.

Nope.

8. What in your life are you waiting for?

To figure out where I "fit" in the writing world.

9. You get a package in the mail. What is it, and who is it from?

A surprise misc. package from my friend T. We used to call each other our "doorstep friend." Now we live across the country from each other. This reminds me, I have a package I need to mail to her.

10. Today--what song represents you?

Legacy by Nicole Nordeman. NOT that I am one, but that I strive to be something and leave something for this world, especially my family.

11. What is one thing that blogging has taught you about yourself?

I am more private than I thought.

I.E. No Facebook

12. How are you going to (or how did you) choose the clothes you're wearing today? What do they say about you in general or specifically how you're feeling today?

I'll end up getting dressed several times. Once for around the house duties and again to take my daughter to horseback riding. I'll change again when I return from hb riding because I often come home smelling like a barn.

So, that's actually three outfits in one day. You'd think I was in high school.

I guess it says I'm too lazy to think ahead for what to wear for an errand later and that I don't like to smell like livestock.

See The Lid for more fun bloggers!

You can't get there from here.

Our family is planning a little trip.

Forgive me if I spare you the details like dates and times and such. Who knows who could be reading this blog and may use the information to rob us. And, while Hubs would love to see my Longaberger baskets go away quietly in the night, I just can't part with all of his rusty tools in the garage.

Of course, with any trip plan comes the arduous task of getting a kennel for Maggie. The last kennel she stayed at must have done something right. The lady said she was "sweet." Either they have some kind of kitty kat kennel powers or the kennel tech is as crazy as Maggie. The down side is that this particular kennel is in another town.

Yes, I have to take Maggie out of town in order to leave her so that I can go out of town.

The kennels here in Smalltown walk a fine line from the pound, so many of us have had to make other arrangements. Until...

A nice couple just opened a new kennel that is getting rave reviews.

When it first opened, it was so brand-spankin'-new and didn't even have a sign out front. It was out in the country, so it was very difficult to find. The kennel is behind the owners' home, so the location is very non-descriptive.

When asked its location, one happy customer said,"Just call ahead and ask the owner to stand in the yard and wave."

I know that's how I find Target.

The kennel has been open a few months and they still do not have a sign. So between word of mouth and waving, new customers are able to find it.

Well, Nancy recently took her cat to the fab kennel and her cat returned happy. This is a sign of a caring, kind facility. Y'all don't know her cat. She is very temperamental.

Yesterday I called and asked Nancy for directions.

Not that I wouldn't love to call ahead and ask the owner to stand in the yard and wave.

Nancy began to give me general directions, but out in the country, you really need specific directions or, you know, a SIGN. Without trees or stores or running water (kidding) there really are very few landmarks unless you count the cars up on blocks or the many chili pepper roasting stands.

So Nancy said she would just send me a picture. I'm not sure what impressed me more, the fact that she had the picture or that she had the forethought to take it in order to give directions to her friends.

I opened my inbox and found a photo of a classic ranch style home, set off from the road and another picture of a black mail box. I was all excited because, hello, it's like a little clue!

I would share the photos with you here but I never know who may be reading this blog and I know the kennel owners like their stuff. And the cats and dogs out back.

Plus, if you look too closely at the photo, you may be able to see the owner. She's the one in the yard waving.



;>)

It could be on SNL if it wasn't, ya know, Churchy and all.

Things have been a bit busy for us around here. I've piled on a few totally new commitments all at the same time. Because I'm a wonderful stress manager.

One of the things I've been involved in is a new Ladies' Bible study. I love ladies' Bible studies. There is something special about being with women of all ages studying God's Word.

Plus, you usually get to eat.

I've been thinking...

There's always a combination of specific personalities in a Ladies' Bible study.

BLESS OUR PRAYED UP HEARTS.

The Late One- She runs in every week late with an excuse of some kind, but we love her anyway. Mainly because her "excuses" are all obligations we dumped on her since no one else would take them.

The Crier- This girl needs some kind of lab tests done. She cries when you say "open your Bible." Whoever sits next to her gets to pat her on the back a lot.

The Lady with The Kleenex- It doesn't matter where the tissue box is in the room, she can find it. That is, if she doesn't have a tissue in her purse. During a long, spill-your-guts-out testimony or a Spirit-filled prayer, she will get up from her chair and return with the last Kleenex in the building.

She is also very good at finding church supplies.

The Encyclopedia Biblica- She has a library at home full of Chuck Swindoll, Charles Stanley and Oswald Chambers. She's always the one the group turns to with a question on scripture.

She'd be great in the Bible category on Jeopardy!


The One With Great Ideas- This lady brainstorms in her sleep. Some of her ideas are do-able, some not. What makes her special is that she keeps the group excited about all the possibilities. Her faith could move mountains.

The Lady Who Cooks- She can cook anything, but especially desserts. If it were not for her, the potluck luncheons would be nothing more than buckets of fried chicken and Wal-mart cookies.


The Quiet One- She never shares a word. On the rare occasion that she does, she says something so profound or personal that everyone in the room picks up their jaw when she's done.

The Comic Relief- Like the Lady with The Kleenex, she helps soothe the tension. Sometimes tart or sassy, she's the one who lightens the mood. Everyone says to her, "you crack me up."

The Sour Puss- Bless her heart, she is never happy, but she just keeps coming week after week. What you may not know is that all that anger and bitterness is the result of a lot of pain. Whatever her problem is, everyone cringes the moment she starts to talk.

Cue in Comic Relief.

So, did I miss a personality? Leave a description in the comments!

Works for Me: Lunch Burrito

I've been trying to make lunch for my husband each night. In my high heels and pearls.

No, really. The man is going to eat anyway. It might as well be healthy and budget friendly. So, I put a lunch together while we put away the dinner leftovers or just before I sit down to watch O'Reilly.

After a few weeks of this, I figured out one thing. Sandwiches get old.

He never said a word,but I knew he must be growing tired of them. I was tired of making them!

I needed some variety. One night I was putting away the taco leftovers and had an idea. Lunch burritos!

Hubs doesn't always have access to a microwave or won't take time to find one, so I left off the meat (cold ground beef- blech.)

Here's how I made it-

Lunch Burrito

1 10-inch flour tortilla
refried beans
shredded lettuce
shredded cheese of your choice
taco sauce or salsa (whichever you prefer)
chopped tomato, optional

Warm your tortilla in the microwave about 15 seconds until soft and pliable. Spoon in beans, lettuce, cheese, sauce, tomato, careful not to add too much. (You still need to roll it!)

Roll up just like a burrito. Wrap tightly in aluminum foil.

Hubs has eaten his cold and said it was great. Of course, you can microwave them.
When ready to eat, remove the foil, place on a microwave safe plate. Wrap the burrito loosely with a paper towel, microwave 60 seconds. (The paper towel keeps the tortilla from getting rubbery.) They also freeze well.

Variations-
Use leftover rice for a rice and beans burrito
For a sushi style wrap, use drained, canned tuna with a dash of soy sauce, rice, shredded carrots and cucumber. (for a cold wrap)
No rice leftovers? Use Uncle Ben's Ready Rice!


For more tips today, visit Kristen's blog!

Well, look what the cat brought in.

I can't believe it has been since Thursday since I wrote a post. Like most of society, I know you have been missing it.

Ahem.

We've been busy with some things around here. New things. Exciting things. Things that require some serious leaps of faith for me. I've been able to peek in at some favorite bloggers' spots, but I haven't really had a moment to write anything coherent.

Like this is coherent.

Plus, the exciting life I lead is just too overwhelming to put into words.

I will share this with you. My daughter has decided that Maggie is a felon. Yes, a felon. She made a poster for our living room wall complete with Maggie's mug shot.

At first I thought it was a Wanted poster, but when you look closely, you can tell that it is a cry for help for someone to take Maggie off our hands.

If my head were not about to drop on the computer, I'd expend the energy to take a photo.

I will quote it for you here:

Black Cat Felon

Accused of stealing breath and socks

Millions Dollars Reward for those who keep her!

Any takers?

DeeDee's Movie Meme

I love it when a fellow blogger does a meme just when I got nothin' to write.

DeeDee asks us to list our favorites and I am glad to oblige.

It appears that there is a divide in the blogosphere. There are English Patient people and non-English Patient people, which is odd because even the English patient was not an English Patient person. Wait until you see where I fall.

And I chuckle under my SnowCaps breath.

Here's my list.

The Movie Meme: (please list up to 3 per genre)

Favorite Comedy Film:
So I Married An Axe Murderer
Napoleon Dynamite
Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Favorite Romance Film:
The Notebook
Love Affair
The English Patient (gasp!)

Favorite Sci-Fi Movie:
The X Files, only because I am not a fan of Sci Fi but I am a fan of Mulder

Favorite Animated Movie:
Up
Charlotte's Web (the original)
Toy Story

Favorite Disaster Movie:
None, they all make me nuts with their lack of technical advisers

Favorite Christmas Movie:
A Christmas Story
How The Grinch Stole Christmas (animated version)
I know I should list It's A Wonderful Life here but I really only watch it because it is on all the time.

Favorite Horror Movie:
None. They creep me out too much.

Movies With Music:
None. They make my ears bleed. I like my movies and my music the way I like my peas and carrots- not mixed together.

Favorite Book to Movie:
The Notebook
Fried Green Tomatoes
Message In A Bottle (because I'm a sucker for Kevin Costner)

Favorite Classic:
Gone With The Wind
Schindler's List (not sure if it's a classic but it should be)
Rear Window

Favorite Chick Flick:
Sleepless In Seattle
Steel Magnolias
Hope Floats

Movie You Could Watch Ad Nauseum:
Forrest Gump
Christmas Story
Ferris Beuller's Day Off

Worst Movie of All Time:
Titantic (yep, I hated it. The acting was terrible and we totally knew where the plot was going.)
I know I'm gonna get some flack for that one. :>)

I'm Adding A Category For Movies I Like Without A Category:
Cable Guy
Edward Scissorhands
Top Gun (If you were a teen in the 80's, you know you loved it, too!)

Dear Mrs. Kravitz,

Y'all will be happy to know that since Sunday I have not lost my car.

Or my mind.

Sometimes we need to count our blessings.

I've been busy the last few days with some commitments, so I've been scarce in the blogosphere.

While I'd really love to take a nap or write a post, what I really need to do is clean the house, do the laundry and pull the weeds from the front flower bed. The neighbors could start to whisper.

Okay, they'll just whisper more.

Until later, I'm off to see the Swiffer.

Hope all is well and weed free in your neck of the woods.

And then the Old Timer's set in.

I'd put it off long enough. Unless my family wanted to eat broken Ritz crackers and old cheese for dinner, I had to go the store. (At least, I think that was cheese.)

Hubs and Daughter were off to Wal-mart for a special father/daughter bonding and purchase of a new can opener. Our old can opener died. Right there on the kitchen counter.

Hubs put it out of its rusty misery and chucked it in the trash. I asked him to run to Wally World while I ran out to get groceries. Okay, neither us actually ran. It's August.

I made my list and headed to the grocery store where there were at least three women on their cell phones. I passed one of them twice. The second time I passed her, she said something to the person on the other end, put down her phone and held up a huge jar of pickles.

Then she turned to me and said,"Is this half a gallon?"

Apparently I was wearing my math club t-shirt. Or my pickle t-shirt.

I looked at the label which read something about ounces and liters.

"Um, I have no idea," I said.

The little rusty wheels were turning then came to a screeching stop.

"You know what I would do," I offered,"I would go over to the milk section and find a half gallon of milk and read how many ounces are in it."

The lady picked up her phone and said,"I just found a smart lady!"

"If I were smart, I would have known if that were a half gallon," I laughed and pushed my cart.

I left the pickle aisle and continued shopping. Somewhere near the cold cuts, I saw the pickle lady with the huge jar in her cart. Yep, it was a half gallon.

I just realized that is why I had a craving for pickle flavored Pringles. Talk about power of suggestion.

With a cart full of buttermilk, chicken, chips, and taco ingredients I finally checked out. The store was busy and the manager bagged my groceries.

We headed for the door and towards my car. When we walked outside it dawned on me that I parked at the other entrance.

"Oh no, I forgot. I parked at the other door. This is what happens when you are out of your routine."

He laughed and followed me.

"Oh, no. On second thought, I think I was right the first time. I did park down here.

He laughed and still followed me.

At this point I was glad to have the remote device and started to push the lock button.

Talk to me, Honda, talk to me.

I heard the beep and followed.

He laughed and followed.

"I'm sure glad you aren't one of the teenagers. They would run in and tell all their friends not to bag that crazy lady's groceries."

He laughed and still followed.

Then I said, "You know what people are thinking watching us- look at that crazy person following that crazy person who can't find her car."

He still laughed, thank goodness, then unloaded my groceries and ran away screaming something about how he knew he should have taken that job at the Post Office.

On the up side, I did find my way home.

Hubs had the brand new can opener all ready and plugged in on the counter. It has a safety opener which removes the lid with a rounded edge. He said he spent extra ( a whopping thirty bucks) so I wouldn't "cut myself."

Because sharp edges are for the young.

Tomorrow I order our safety alert system.

If I can only find the phone.

Friday's Fave Five: Man-made materials

This will be short and sweet, or at least short.



1. Sinus Medication- Something is in bloom and it has caused my head to nearly explode. Hubs and I are both either stuffy or unstuffy. Any medication companies out there? We could be that miserable couple in your commercial.



2. Coffee- I thank our forefathers daily for dumping all that tea in the harbor.



3. The Internet- I guess I should really thank Al Gore but since he isn't necessarily man-made, it wouldn't work in this case.



4. Air conditioning- I don't know how my grandparents made it without A/C. Of course, they would say it didn't used to be this hot. Global Warming? Well, looks like I can thank Al Gore again.



5. Art- Art makes me smile. One of my favorite and most whimsical artists is Mary Engelbreit. I just ordered some things from her and love it. I already have a new calendar for my purse. The cover reads,"No, really I have it all under control."

Can't wait to use it. I know. It's August.

Which is why I am so thankful for #4.

See Susanne for more faves this week!

The King is Coming

It's back to school time. Kids can be seen in first day outfits and squeaky, not-broken-in-yet shoes, with backpacks of glue sticks and folders slung over their shoulders, walking down hallways paved with freshly waxed floors.

I don't remember a lot about my first day of school but I remember my daughter's big day. It was her first day in Kindergarten.

On her first day, my husband and I walked with her to the classroom. Her teacher greeted us at the door with a sweet smile and a soft "hello."

My daughter put her backpack and lunchbox in her cubby, then sat down in her seat. I told her everything was going to be fine, and that I would be back for her at the end of the day.

Because there's something about the promise of someone coming back for us that is comforting.

I recently read Sophie's post over at All Access blog. She and her family attended a concert by Travis Cottrell. I watched the video she posted of Travis and the other talented musicians performing The King Is Coming. I have to tell you, I got goosebumps. That hymn has always been one of my favorites.

Sometimes I wish The King was coming today. I want God to give Gabriel the go ahead, then the heavens would just open up and take us all out of this world. I can't wait to be raptured from bills and pain and laundry.

Can I get an amen?

But God tells us that no man knows the time or season when Jesus will return for His Church. We are to trust in Him and keep living out our faith on earth, looking for that blessed hope when Christ returns.

So, for now, I'll pay the bills and do the laundry. Until I hear that trumpet call, I'm holding onto the promise and the comfort that He loves me, He saved me and He's coming back for me.

He's coming back for me!

(Now, that gives me goosebumps!)

Victory for Mankind

The United States recently celebrated the 40th Anniversary of its first landing on the moon. Years of planning went into that first space walk. There were some who never thought it would happen. Still, others continued to work and wait, believing that one day man would walk on the moon...


Join me today at the cafe for a discussion on two incredible moments in history.

Grab a cup. I'll see you there!

Hot Dog!

Last week we were planning our weekend. Most of the time this involves simply making a list of household chores and needed grocery items.

We're an exciting bunch.

Plus, here in SmallTown, there aren't a lot of things to do. Not that we would do them if there were, but, I'm just sayin.' Unless we want to visit the local skating rink circa 1982 or play a game of miniature golf, it's tough to find excitement. The truth is that I passed on my roller skates to my cousin after I outgrew them and the carpal tunnel I'm suffering from all this blogging is really affecting my golf swing.

So, Saturday we attended the most exciting thing we could find- The Wiener Dog Run hosted by Wienerschnitzel.

Because when you combine over processed food, record high temperatures and tiny dogs who may or may not be carrying disease you've come up with a recipe for fun.

We arrived early to get a good seat. (See, I told you we were starved for entertainment.)

By "good seat" I mean a spot on the blanket that I keep in the back of the Honda. I brought bottled water in a cooler to keep us hydrated. We sat, sipped and waited as owners registered their dachshunds for the race. The organizers had a bigger turn-out than they planned, so the event was delayed.

We waited impatiently on our blanket in the 100 degree weather while watching the entrants sniff each other. (The dogs.)

At last, the first heat began. Owners placed the first eight wiener dogs in the gates. I brought my camera and planned to snap a picture but the crowd gathered and I didn't think you'd want a photo of people's legs.

Other owners stood at the finish line calling out names like "Rosey" and "Oscar" while squeaking chew toys.

The gates opened and they were off.

Not really.

The gates opened and the little dogs ran out, waddling on short legs, sniffing the grass and looking for their owners. Some of them ran into the crowd. Others turned around and ran to toward the gate. There were restarts and do-overs until finally a winner was declared for that heat.

Each heat was the same until finally one little dog did what we all were waiting for. His business. Right there in the middle of the track.

The embarrassed but brave owner ran to the "results" with her plastic bag, scooped it up, then ran back to the sidelines.

We all cheered.

After more do-overs, sniffing, running into the crowd, a grand prize winner was finally declared. She was a brown, energetic athlete with floppy ears and stubby legs. I apologize for not getting her stats but my guess is she was about 18 inches tall and a buff 15 pounds.

Her owner scooped her up and ran to the emcee to claim their prize.

Then we all iced them down with toilet water and ran onto the field.

Breakfast, Candles and Automobiles

You may have heard the news. John Hughes died. If you were a teenager in the 80's, you know what a terrible loss this is. John Hughes created characters we all loved and hated.

Duckie, Claire, Farmer Ted, Dell Griffith, Uncle Buck, The Griswolds, and the list goes on.

Hubs declared the terrible tragedy today while we were sitting on the sofa.

"John Hughes died! Did you know that?"

"Yep."

"John Hughes!"

"Yep."

"Guess there won't be a Breakfast Club 2."

"Nope. Plus, they're all too old anyway."

"Yeah, they'd call it Breakfast Club 2 with Oatmeal and Postum."

"And high fiber pancakes."

"Yep."

"Then they'd all go for their water aerobics."

The sad thing is that we'd be drinking Postum with them.

Sigh.

Seriously, thank you John Hughes. You made teen angst an art form.

We won't forget about you.

What was your favorite John Hughes film?

Works For Me: Making the most of Back to School Sales

1. Tax Holiday- If possible, buy supplies during your state's sales tax holiday. Be sure to check the state's website for an accurate list of what is taxable and what is not on the holiday.

Think outside the box. You may be able to purchase things tax-free now that you will need later.

2. Think ahead- You are going to need more notebook paper, pencils or lead refills. Buy them now while they are on sale and stash them away until Spring.

3. Consider the electives- Ask your art teacher or PE teacher for their wish list. You may find items on sale that they can use. (Elementary art teachers can always use markers. Now is the best time to find them on sale.)

4. Christmas- Yes, Christmas! While you are out browsing the sales, look for items that may be good stocking stuffers. Your toddler may not be in school, but she'll love some colorful washable markers in her stocking. Buy them now and save them.

You can also look for things that are tax free during your state's tax holiday! Remember, computers are usually included!

5. Empty shelves- Everyone is shopping for the same items. Sometimes this means they are all out when you arrive.

Remember to check office supply stores, too. One year for Kindergarten, I searched high and low for safety scissors. Office Depot was the only place that had them.

6. Don't stress- If you can't find every item on the supply list, focus on the basics. You can get the rest later. Laura Ingalls turned out just fine using a slate board.

If your kid doesn't have every single item in her backpack the first day of school, I'm pretty sure the teacher won't send her home.

And, if she does, remind her of that when it comes time for end-of-year teacher gifts.

Oh, I kid.

Kind of.

Check Kristen's blog for more great tips!

The Curious Case of Puttin' Up Peas

Y'all, there are stories that are so funny, so crazy, so good that no one in their right mind could conceive it to be true. This is why we have Snopes.

But then there are stories so perfect that even Mark Twain himself could not have made it up.

This is one of those stories.

My sweet friend whom I shall not name for her sake emailed me the story below. I asked her permission to blog it. She gave me the go ahead and said I could embellish as desired.

No need. This is Gold.

So, I will tell it to you as she told it to me.

Yesterday, while Mom, the kids and I were driving across Louisiana and Mississippi, Dad decided he would put up some peas.

He shelled what ended up amounting to 12 quarts of pink-eyed purple hulls. He is left-handed, and his thumb got so tired and sore that he finished the chore using his right thumb, which he said was very interesting/difficult.

Mom had suggested that his best friend William give him pointers for putting up the peas, so William came over to the house to help. They filled the largest pot with water, brought it to a boil, added the peas and put a top on the pot.

The lid fit onto the pot fine when they set it on, but apparently it was not the lid meant for that pot and when it heated up, it swelled enough so that it would no longer come off.

Dad and William are not stupid, so they removed the pot from the stove, iced the lid and waited. They still could not pull it off.

Since, I (sadly) do not have a video, (I could have won $10,000) I cannot adequately describe what happened next, but I will just tell you that they eventually removed the lid with a CROWBAR. I did notice that the crowbar was leaning up against the back door when we arrived today, but didn't ask why.

My brother told me this story. Dad had told me that he had put up peas yesterday and about shelling them, but I guess he was embarrassed to admit the last part.

I understand why he didn't tell Mom; I'm now waiting for her to say, "How did this dent get in my pot lid?"

My guess is that no one will answer that question.


I agree, friend.

I agree.

What I Accomplished Today

Got up.

Yawned.

Walked to coffee maker, made coffee.

Stayed in pajamas.

Answered the phone.

"Hello... sure, we'll go. Sounds fun."

Showered, dressed, applied sunscreen.

Climbed in friend's car while she drove us to the pool.

Sat in lounge chair and talked to friend under a shade tree.

Worked up a sweat by shifting my weight so as not to have those ugly lounge chair stripes on my thighs.

Came home.

Made dinner.

Blogged.

Yes, I am a huge contributor to society.

You are welcome.

Friday's Fave Five

This week I've been blessed enough to see old friends, make new ones, and take a few minutes here and there to appreciate the little things.

1. Friends- T. and her daughter are in town. Her daughter and mine had a grand time of giggling, making up code words and taking care of our newest resident- a caterpillar we found on the grill cover.

My daughter loves bugs almost as much as I love Starbucks. His little temporary home in her room is full of dandelion leaves and fresh grass.

That caterpillar has no idea how good he's got it.

2. Rain- Yes, rain! In New Mexico! It is so rare around here that I wondered if I should start looking for the ark. Then I remembered that we have no trees so Noah probably built it over in Georgia somewhere which means my family is on a cruise right now.

Oh, the random nothing I can write about. When I'm old, please tell them I am not senile and I've been like this the whole time.

3. New recipes. I made a lemonade pie that is so easy-

Frozen Lemonade Pie

2 prepared graham cracker crusts
1 can frozen lemonade, thawed but not diluted
1 (8 0z.) container whipped topping
1 (14 oz) can sweetened condensed milk

Fold lemonade, whipped topping and condensed milk in bowl until well mixed. Pour into pie shells. Cover and freeze until firm. (About 2 hours.)

Now I know why they say "easy as pie."

4. My husband. He's always one of my favorites but since it's my blog, I'll go ahead and list him here.

5. New blog friends- I recently discovered Carpoolqueen's Blog. She is hiliarious and an amazing writer. Most of the time, she has me in stitches but, this post brought me to tears (in a good way!)

Be sure to read it and browse through her archives. Good stuff.

What about you? What are your favorites this week?

You search! I answer!

I've mentioned before how I love to see how people find my blog. The Google searches crack me up.

But I really feel sorry for folks who are in need of important information and click on This Ain't New York, only to find useless tips on how to transport 20 pounds of flour on an airplane or how to live with a cat in her mid-life crisis.

A person's time is her most valuable asset. Well, that, along with good hair.

So I decided to take a few of the most frequent Google searches that bring folks here and try to answer a few of them.

Wink. Wink.

1. "How to look really thin"- I have no idea.

If you find something, please leave a comment. I could use all the help I can get. If your tip includes running, please know that I appreciate your input but the possibility of me sprinting in some New Balance is highly unlikely.

2. "How to unstop a sink"- My guess is that you have found my Works For Me on using a plunger to unstop a sink. Now I've created an entirely new post which will bring you here. Reminder- use a new plunger. And be careful that there are no chemicals in your sink (cleaners) that could splash you in the face.

Pleasant.

3. "How to clean sea shells"- I'm your gal. Soak them in a mild solution of bleach water. Rinse well. If you're in a hotel at the beach, soak them in that mouthwash they give you with the shampoo, lotion, and tiny bar of soap.

4. "Do they wear pantyhose in New York?"- I don't know. I hope not.

5. "Paint color Charleston Green"- Not really a question but I have to shout out a huge "YEAH" to you for joining me in my love of all things old and all things Charleston.

6. "Hubcaps at Wal-mart"- If you are looking for hubcaps, I hope your Wal-mart has them. I was out of luck the last time I looked. I still find that ironic.

I mean, what's next? No more cute shoes at Target?

The American tradition is simply slipping away.

My next piece of advice- How To Bathe a Cat or How To Show You Are Completely Insane.

Works for Me: Freezing Leftover Pizza

We always order too much pizza. I get sucked into the deals and we like variety. I also have the fear of running out of food. Okay, maybe it's not a fear as much as it is a phobia.

Anyway.

Whenever we order pizza we have leftovers. In the old days, before I was wise and wrinkled, I would just put all the leftovers in the frig. By day three, we'd all be sick of supreme and I'd end up throwing some of it out.

Thank goodness for my friend T., who is wise but not wrinkled.

She suggested freezing the leftovers.

So now I put 1 or 2 pieces of pizza in a freezer bag (or what you would consider an individual serving), then pop them in the freezer. Sometimes I end up with several bags depending on how much is leftover.

When your kids are ready for lunch one day, take the pizza out of the bag, then heat it up in the toaster oven. The pizza will crisp up like it just came out of the oven because, well, it just did.

I still put a few leftover pieces in the frig for Hubs' breakfast the next morning. Cold pizza. The breakfast of champions.

Check out Kristen's blog for more tips this week.

Hello from your Great Aunt Peg

I turn 39 this year. Hubs is one year ahead of me. The numbers have never really mattered to me, but lately I'm starting to think they should.

So, how do you know when you might be getting old?

1. Famous people you thought were cool in high school recently died.

2. You agree with Bill O'Reilly almost all of the time. "YEAH, American traditions are out the window. It's a culture war. You tell 'em, Bill!"

3. While at Walgreens today, you decided to purchase Fish Oil because you've heard it helps with heart disease. You asked the pharmacist the difference between fish oil and bottles labeled "Omega Complex."

He doesn't really know. (very comforting)

You suggest that Omega Complex may taste better. He agrees just to get rid of you.

But you go with the fish oil anyway because it is clearly labeled "helps with cardiovascular disease" and "no fish burps."

Because the fish burp odor may clash with the Bengay.


Be sure to check by tomorrow. I'm hosting a giveaway for orthopedic shoes.

Ice cream and cake and cake.

Guess what song I have stuck in my head.

This one.

It makes me want to get up and dance.

That is all.

The leftover pesto sauce is so choice.

I just finished off my lunch- a bowl of Healthy Choice Chicken Pesto Classico. It was pretty tasty for, you know, low cal food.

I set the bowl to the side here on the couch, planning to get up in a minute to put it away. That's when Maggie decided to join me. Only she didn't want attention. She went for my bowl.

Normally, I would shoo her away in an effort to train her not to eat out of people's bowls. But, I was in shock that she was eating people food, much less DIET PESTO and well, she's a cat. You can't really train a cat.

So I sat here in shock and just observed as my cat licked the pesto sauce from the bowl. Then she jumped down to groom herself after her meal.

I can't blame her. Like me, she could stand to lose a few pounds.

My guess is we'll both be in the pantry in a couple of hours. (The peanut butter jar is all mine, girlfriend!.)

Works For Me: Instant Waist Cincher!

I learned this from Jackie at Chico's. (She's a genius.)

I was trying on a jacket and she said I should always push up my sleeves (to the elbow) if possible.

Why?

It makes your waist look smaller! Yes, your waist.

You can also get the same effect by rolling up long sleeves to your elbows.

Go to your closet and try it:

Stand in the mirror with the sleeves down, bring your arms straight down next to your waist. Now, push up or roll up your sleeves to your elbows. (The trick is to have the end of the sleeve hit at waist level. Adjust as needed.)

See the difference? It's amazing!

Of course, laying off the chips and cookies works, too.

For more tips, see Kristen.

As I Lay Frying

When Nancy called the other day to ask if Daughter and I wanted to go to the pool with her and C., I hesitated at first. Not because I didn't want to see them. I was just still in my pj's.

I turned and asked Daughter, "Do you want to get ready and go to the pool with C.?"

She, of course, was thrilled and ran off to her room to put on her bathing suit.

I was thrilled at the chance to catch up on things with Nancy. Then I ran off to my room to get presentable, meaning put on my bathing suit, a cover-up, make-up, and hat.

After slathering sunscreen on my daughter, we gathered the rest of our things- towels, water, extra sunscreen... goggles.

"Where are your goggles?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe C. will have some extra ones."

We met up at Nancy's house and I asked if they had any extra goggles. She said they didn't and that the ones they did have needed a new strap. We planned to buy some new ones for the girls when we arrived at the pool.

Apparently, the local pool is an authorized dealer for Olympic Level Goggles because the ones they had started at $15.00. Oddly enough, they looked exactly like the ones I've seen at Wal-mart for half that price.

Nancy and I settled on our lounge chairs in the sun and perched ourselves in the best spot to "get a little color." Meanwhile, my daughter ran up to me constantly so that I could adjust her goggles which never fit quite right. C.'s goggles eventually broke in half.

So the girls just swam without their proper Olympic equipment as we basked in the warmth of our sucker, I mean excellent goggle purchases.

I knew we'd only be there an hour, hour 1/2 tops. Some of the tan I had from our Florida trip had faded, so my bright idea was to sun a little without sunscreen. (Except for on my face. I always protect my face.)

How bad could it be?

Well.

Later that night, I could feel the warmth through my old t-shirt. I pulled up my sleeve and revealed my red shoulder. Ouch. I showed Hubs.

"Look. I got burned. I was only out there a little over an hour. I spent nearly half a day on the beach. How could I burn so easily today?"

Hubs explained in his Science Channel voice,"We're at a higher altitude. There's less atmosphere to diffuse the sun's rays."

"Um, yeah."

"Did you wear sunscreen?"

"No. Just on my face, not the rest of me."

"That'll learn ya."

The sensitivity in my household is palpable, along with my lobster-like complexion radiating from my shoulders.

Do you think the pool sells Olympic Level Aloe?

It's all fun and games until someone croaks in the toad condo.

On Saturday we all worked in the yard. Hubs mowed and edged. Daughter and I pulled weeds. Well, I pulled weeds and Daughter started pulling weeds until she found a huge toad.

I do mean huge.

"Can we get a container and put dirt in it and just hold him in there for a little while, not even a day?"

"No. Let's leave him alone."

"Can I just find a flower pot and turn it over and put dirt in there so he can get in there if he wants?"

It was clear to my daughter that the toad needed to be rescued and protected from the various snakes we have here in New Mexico. In my opinion, the toad looked quite content resting there in the murky puddle, shaded by the porch.

But what do I know? I'm no toad expert.

"OK. You can make him a toad house with a flower pot. But, you know what he does if you pick him up... and it's not pee... it's some kind of secretion from special glands."

So, maybe I could be a toad expert.

"What is it then? The liquid?"

"I don't know. I'll have to look it up later."

Or maybe I'm not.

Daughter went on a hunt for the perfect pot and found two. One of the pots was pink and one was a nicely painted Terra cotta. (We couldn't tell if the toad was a girl or a boy.) Good hospitality is one of our life's goals, so we provided one home with feminine Shabby Chic and the other one with gender neutral decor so as not to offend.

She worked diligently on the placement of the flower pots, turning them both on their sides, and filling them with dirt to provide a natural habitat and enough weight so the pots wouldn't blow away. You know the old story about the snake slithering up and blowing down the toad's house, right?

After several treks to the garage, the backyard, and in the house, Daughter was satisfied with the two toad home options nestled in the newly weed-free spot of the front flower bed.

And, yes, she did pick up the toad.

He let out a loud CROAK, puffed up his body and I warned, "Put him down. He's freaking out."

Daughter gently put him back down in his puddle, allowing him to find his new toad home options because we don't want to interfere with nature or anything.

We came inside the house, washed our hands, and I got on the Internet, searching for little tidbits on toads. As it turns out, I was right, toads do not pee on you. This is a myth, along with the idea that they can give you warts.

Do you know what that stuff is that the toads secret when you pick them up?

Do you know?

It's poison. According to my Google hunt, toads have special glands which secrete a liquid when they are stressed. In some toads, the liquid is poison. In others, it is harmless. I have no idea whether our toad falls into the icky, harmless group or the dreadful, deadly one.

Because I'm no toad expert.

Favorites

Wow. This week has been a full one, jam packed with family visits, lots of travel and a bit of angst (not a fav.)

1. Two- I love seeing my niece. Because of the distance, we don't see her as often as we would like. We consider each moment with her a treasure.

2. The unique landscape of The South- While on our trip, I enjoyed the beach, the pines of South Georgia, beautiful rivers of Georgia and South Carolina, and all the summer blooms across the region. I miss "green" here in New Mexico. Being surrounded by crepe myrtles and the many annuals was a treat for me.

3. Searching for bugs- Daughter and I helped my niece look for bugs in Grammy's yard. We taught her about good bugs and bad bugs and where to look for them. Sorry, Grammy, if you start to find all of your flower pots on their side! OOPS.

4. Home- As much as I loved returning to our old stomping ground and seeing family, I love my own bed and bathroom. I also love coming home and cleaning to freshen up the house.

5. This post at the Cafe- I had a tough time writing this. There were numerous technical difficulties, Internet issues and pure writer's block, but it was something that just had to come out. (One of those, I HAVE TO WRITE THIS moments.) I wrote it for myself and maybe other people can relate to it as well.

Here's an excerpt.

"Jackpot!" That's what our family says when we find a special treasure on the beach. Sometimes we discover a sea shell, a sand dollar, or even a barracuda jaw..."

Go to the Internet Cafe for the rest of "Contentment In Christ."


See Susanne for more Friday Faves!

Have a great weekend and don't forget to leave a comment with your Man on The Moon Phrase.

We can put a man on the moon.

Forty years ago America headed for the moon.

Still today, I think that's pretty cool.

Plus, it has given us a chance to use the phrase, "We can put a man on the moon, but we still can't (fill in the blank.)"

Today, I'd say, "We can put a man on the moon, but we still can't keep up with people's luggage."

What about you?

Leave your input in the comments.

"We can put a man on the moon, but we still can't (your phrase here.)"

This should be fun!

So, it started out on a good note.

My day started with a wake-up call from the front desk.

"Good morning. Yes, it is too early. Get up anyway. You have a flight to catch."

After a hearty breakfast of Robust coffee, doughnuts, frozen biscuits and canned gravy, Daughter and I caught the shuttle to Hotlanta Airport (my nemesis.)

This is where I have to insert my dislike for Hartsfield. There are too many people, it is too big, I hate that train with the scary doors, and did I mention there are too many people?

The shuttle driver popped in a CD and I knew we were buds. Phil Collins began to sing In The Air Tonight and I looked at my watch, wondering how long the ride to the airport would be. I didn't want to miss the drum solo.

Turns out, I got to listen to the entire song. I played the solo on my cute Target purse and mouthed the words like a total goober.

That was the high point of the trip.

We checked in, squeezed past security (kidding), and boarded without incident. I was totally impressed with my travel expertise. I even managed to get better seats than the ones originally reserved.

Arrived in Dallas.

(sigh)

"Now boarding, Flight Number Somethingorother... I'm sorry... there's a problem... this flight has been delayed for maintenance."

The delay turned into an aircraft change and a complete gate change. We waited until finally (over an hour later) we boarded our plane. When we did arrive at our final destination, there was no gate available.

So we sat there on the tarmac and watched out the windows like puppies at the pound waiting for someone to adopt them. We pressed our noses to the glass for what felt like a sweet forever until finally they let us out of our winged cage.

WHEW. Nightmare over.

Not really.

Guess which puppy didn't get her luggage.

Now I wait at home for a phone call or a knock on the door, hoping to talk to someone from the airlines who has my little red suitcase with all of my make-up in it.

Keep your fingers crossed, would ya?

On a different note, Maggie is home from the kennel and they said she was SWEET.

I KNOW! More on this tomorrow.

Two

We are visiting my in-laws for a few days before heading back to Small Town. My sister-in-law and niece are here. My niece just turned two. She is full of wonder and baby sweetness.

I'd forgotten what it means to be two...


When you're two, it is tough to have a cold because someone has to help you blow your nose. This isn't fun. For you or the someone.

When you're two, bigger kids are cool. Right up there with Santa Claus, crayons, tape and stuff you find on the floor.

Being two means that suddenly everything is yours and your job is to let everyone know it.

Two is the year that you learn about potties and that sometimes if you do something there, you get M & M's.

When you're two, people like to clap their hands and sing silly songs. You sing along to make them feel special.

When you're two, the bigger people try to play tricks on you at dinner, but you secretly know that broccoli isn't Little People Trees.

Being two means that you get to be friends with Elmo and Cookie Monster. Next year, you learn Spanish with a girl who has a very large head.

Two is the time you discover how fun it is to hide. And to be found.

When you're two, people like to ask you how old you are. Over and over.

When you're two, the world is really tall. Especially when you are trying to reach for something sharp or hot or dangerous. Whatever that means.

Being two means that when you cry, someone big will come and pick you up and hold you.

Two is the time when you are the center of the world, at least for a while, and that's Okay.

Because you're two.

Love,
Aunt Mel

Don't try this at home.

Yesterday was our last day of vacation in Destin. We went to the beach one last time and visited some area museums, rounding out the day with a dolphin cruise.

The cruise offers dolphin sightings along with a chance to feed the seagulls.


This is what happens when you open a bag of Fritos at the back of a boat.

I shudder to think what would have happened if it had been Cool Ranch Doritos.

What's at the top of your list?

After seeing Up, I've been thinking about other movies I love, the ones I could watch over and over.

There are some that I like for pure entertainment. There are others I appreciate for the creative talent or good writing. Some of them, I love for both.

Here's my list in no particular order:

1. Forrest Gump- I love this for the entertainment and excellent writing. I keep saying I'll read the book and haven't.

2. Hope Floats- The mother/daughter relationships are brilliant.

3. Fried Green Tomatoes- Friendship and cultural lessons abound. Too many Southernisms to mention.

4. Steel Magnolias- Southernisms and women coming together in celebration and tragedy. Plus, I can picture people I know as the characters.

5. Truman Show- Love it for the lessons on society. Although, I thought it should have ended differently with the audience rallying behind Truman to escape, then watching a new show with a new baby and falling into the old habit. (Sadly, that is probably what would happen.)

6. Christopher Guest movies- Humor in its own category

7. Napolean Dynamite- "TINA! FOOD!"

8. Edward Scissorhands- Makes me cry.

9. Christmas Story- Only I didn't say fudge.

10. Rear Window- When suspense and mystery did not require violence and gore.

11. Gone With The Wind- Do I really need to explain why? ;>)

There are more, but I'll stop there.

What about you? What are your favs and why?

Adventure

I needed a good coffee.

After all, I'd left the movie theatre in tears.

Last night we saw UP, by Disney Pixar. I believe Walt Disney would be proud to see his name once again connected with quality work after a long era of substandard entertainment.

UP has the humor and sweetness for kids with an incredible plot line (yes, a real plot line) and life lesson for adults. I haven't cried so much (in a good way) since Forrest Gump. (As a side note, the action in 3-D may be a bit intense for little ones, so you may go with the 2-D version.)

Before the movie, Hubs asked if we wanted snacks. I passed on the $3.00 box of Snow Caps. (In all honesty, I don't even know the price of Snow Caps these days. I'm just guessing they were $3.00 a box. At that rate, there should be a Willy Wonka golden ticket tucked inside.)

So I decided to spend wisely (ahem) and wait for a $4.00 coffee.

When the movie was over, we stopped at Starbucks, and headed back to our condo. There were a few moments of daylight left, so we walked to the beach.

I stood there in the surf, flip flops off, with latte in hand and said to Hubs, "Oh, no. I've become a yuppie."

All I needed was a very small dog and a J. Crew catalog.

He assured me that I was not. We laughed and continued to walk.

I held my husband's hand and watched my daughter scurry for shells as the sun was already setting behind high rises and family vacation homes. I thought of Carl and Ellie.

Of adventure.

For most of us, adventure comes in packages of newborn baby blankets, ten year wedding anniversaries, and boxes of mac n' cheese.

It greets us at the door when we get home from work. It draws cards for us on Mother's Day.

It wakes us up in the night with an ear infection. It makes us weep at a grave.

It washes away on a sandy shore. It drives away for college.

We walked. I held my husband's hand, the moon now high, and thought of all my everyday adventures.

And that someday, maybe, I'll even get a very small dog.

Shhhh... don't tell Maggie.

What was your favorite childhood vacation spot?

I mentioned yesterday that a lot of people in the Deep South head to the Florida Panhandle each summer.

Another place my family frequented was the North Georgia and Tennessee mountains. I remember seeing fireflies as the sun went down and wishing I could capture them and take them home.

We visited places like Lookout Mountain, Rock City and the alpine town of Helen. Sticking my feet in the cold Chattahoochee was refreshing in mid-July.

What about you? Where did your family spend summer vacation?

Did you visit the same places each year?

I'd love to read about it in the comments.

The Florida Panhandle- A Southern Tradition

Last night as we crossed the bridge, I rolled down my window just to smell the air.

Salty, clean, humid, with the faint smells of fresh gulf shrimp and grouper- this is Destin.

We've lived along the Florida Panhandle several times through the years and I've fallen in love with it. Don't tell Mama, but it is more like home to me than the red clay of Georgia. (I think she already knows.)

The Florida Panhandle has its own charm. There's an eclectic mix of foods and traditions of The South with the beach bum attitude of Florida.

Here, the Live Oaks make cool canopies over roads. Mullet is fried up with hush puppies at local diners where they serve sweet tea. Panhandle natives still do not wear white after Labor Day and their accents are distinctly Southern.

Every summer you can read license plates from Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Tennessee from cars filled with families spending summer vacations here. They return like migrating birds each year to their favorite places like Destin, Mexico Beach, Panama City, Ft. Walton Beach and Pensacola.

I remember church youth trips to Panama City, spending hours on the beach forgetting sunscreen, and giggling with friends at the theme park on Miracle Strip Parkway. Another panhandle tradition is spending a day at Big Kahuna's, a water park in the Heart of Destin.

Today, the panhandle looks a little different. There are more fusion restaurants and transplanted palm trees. But if you look, you will find the old menus, people, and traditions which still make this area beautifully unique.

Like the Live Oaks gracing old neighborhood streets, the panhandle is still rooted in Southern beach charm. This is the reason families flock to these beaches each year for seafood festivals, fishing rodeos, and family reunions on the Fourth of July.

And the view ain't bad either.

Frizzy Fun

1. Maggie has survived. Hubs arrived back home for a few days, before returning to Florida with us to continue vacation. This means that now Maggie will go in the kennel and Hubs has the important and dangerous task of taking her there. I'll let you know how that one goes.

2. We are having fun. I didn't learn my lesson about sunscreen from my daughter. So now I officially look like a tourist. Only my shoulders. The rest of me looks like a responsible adult.

3. I can always tell when a family has just arrived at the beach. They run up, dump all of their stuff, take off their shoes and cover-ups and run into the surf with huge grins on their faces. I especially love to watch the little ones. They either run in screaming or run out screaming.

It is precious.

4. Shopping. I am like a kid in a candy store. We've lived in this area before, so I don't have to waste time scouting. Time is precious when you live in SmallTown. You cannot waste a single shopping opportunity.

5. I've had Starbucks nearly every day. It is part of my vacation budget.

6. Although my hair has never been shinier, it is much less manageable. I forgot what frizz is. Now, instead of spending my time moisturizing straw-like locks, I am spending my time smoothing poodle-like fuzz.

I am certain that if God gives us all new hair in Heaven that it will be perfectly lovely.

7. The greatest part about being here is getting away. But, it all makes me think about how, no matter where we are, we always want to get away. This is a real lesson about gratitude and contentment for me.

I hope I can remember this lesson when I get home and miss the humidity and shopping.

Have a wonderful Sunday!

An emergency call from the shaky paws of Maggie

I was helping out at Vacation Bible School yesterday while here on our vacation. A familiar tune came from my purse.

It was my cell phone.

"Hello."

"Hello, Miss Melanie. This is C. Where is ...(garbled words and static.")

"I'm sorry, sweetie. What did you say? I couldn't understand you."

"This is C. Where is Maggie's canned food?"

"Oh, you can just give her dry. We changed her to dry food. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Okay."

"Is she behaving for you?"

"Yes. She is being good."

"Good....Bye."

"Bye."

I closed my phone and felt a sick feeling in my stomach.

In an effort to make the cat sitting time easier on Nancy and her daughter, I had switched Maggie to dry food. She had gone off of her Elegant Medleys cold turkey a few weeks before and we had not noticed any ill effects.

My imagination got the best of me and I wondered if cats could go into a state of delayed detox.
Maggie could be Jonesing right now and poor Nancy is having to ice her down in the tub.

Oh, the humanity.

My Fair Little Lady

My daughter has fair skin.

Her mama has fair skin.

Her daddy has fair skin.

Her grandparents have...

Well, you get the picture.

Because of our fair skin heritage, we wear sunscreen, a lot of sunscreen with SPF 90 or somethingorother. We buy the little pink tube made for babies because it is the most powerful, potent, potion on the shelf in a very delicate and sensitive sort of way.

We have a sunscreen routine and very methodical application. I always, always use the sunscreen stick on my daughter's face and the cream or lotion on the rest of her. It just works best.

I knew I had packed the sunscreen stick somewhere in a little sandwich bag with other lotions and such. But she was excited to get to the beach, so I substituted the stick for the cream on her face.

Bad idea.

After returning from a relatively short time at the beach, spots of sunburn started to show up around her eyes. Within hours, the pink became pinker. Fortunately, she said it didn't hurt.

Her face, that is. My heart, however, broke into a million pieces.

So there I stood at the Pharmacy counter in Target, face to face with a well-trained professional, who probably hates tourists like me who come in with their flip-flops and air-brushed t-shirts glowing like cherry tomatoes, asking him the following question:

"I can't believe I'm asking this... but what is the best thing to put on my daughter's face? We put sunscreen on her but I guess she rubbed it off around her eyes."

"Just a good moisturizer. Solarcaine is fine other places, but not on the face."

"Good. That's what I got- a moisturizer."

"And you can give her Tylenol or Motrin for the pain."

"I got that, too."

"That's good."

"No, you don't understand. I'm one of those mothers who points and whispers when I see other mothers with kids who have a sunburn."

"Well, there goes Mother-Of-The-Year. Now, they'll be whispering about you."

"Yep. It's terrible."

"It's OK. It happens."

He handed me my medicine, a nice serving of crow, and I joined Hubs and daughter at the car.

"The pharmacist said I got what we needed. Moisturizer and Motrin. I told him that I'm usually the mother that points and whispers at mothers like me and he said I just lost "Mother-Of-The-Year."

"Yep. Now you'll never get to hold the big check."

I always wanted to hold the big check.


I wonder if they give you a huge Bic pen to endorse it.

Or a huge, pink, sunscreen stick with SPF 90.

What I did on the first day of vacation.

So, I thought I'd write a little essay on what I did on my very first day of vacation.

Yes, I'm five.

First I took a ride on an airplane. The first leg of the trip wasn't bad. We arrived at the airport at a decent time, checked in, and had just enough time to spare to make a trip to the ladies' room (because I avoid the airplane lavatory at all costs.)

We boarded the plane one row behind the exit row. This is my row of choice. Yes, the exit row has more leg room but when the flight attendant asks me if I am capable of opening that very large and heavy door in case of an emergency, I want to be honest.

And by being honest, I would say "No, I am neither strong enough nor capable and I think at that point I'd be freaking out, so no, m'am I cannot be the hero on this flight which is really tragic, because it would make for some seriously good material for my blog."

Then she'd just move me to the row behind the exit row, which is my row of choice. Because it has the convenience of the close exit without all the hassle of having to save everyone on the plane.

So, instead, two old men and one man who apparently didn't speak English sat in the exit row.

Personally, I didn't feel very safe but they had great leg room.

The second flight of the trip was not that pleasant. I sat several rows behind the exit row, behind the wing and within close proximity to the airplane lavatory. Apparently every man on the plane stopped by the airport Starbucks before boarding.

EWWWW.

I really wish Sky Mall magazine would sell a gadget that eliminates lavatory odors while flying. And please. The term lavatory does not make it fancy nor pleasant. It's a porta potty with wings.

We all know how I feel about that.

We landed in sunny Florida with great anticipation of the beach. And the humidity.

When you have lived in the South for nearly your whole life and you move to a place where your sandwich goes stale while you reach for your chips, you tend to miss the moisture. I walked off the airplane and my hair and skin literally said "thank you," out loud. Or maybe it was the flight attendant.

People think that the beauty pageant contestants from the South win because of the intense training. The real secret is the humidity. And maybe their overbearing mothers.

I promise more exciting things have happened than my pores opening up and my hair follicles singing the Hallelujah Chorus. But for now, I have to go. There's a key lime pie from Publix in the frig. just calling my name.

I just realized that there are a lot of things talking to me. Or I'm just hearing voices.

While Mama's away...

As you read this, I have already boarded a plane to sunny Florida where humdity and sand that sticks to me awaits.

Maggie has been spared from the torture chamber (kennel) for a few days. A sweet friend is taking care of her and keeping an eye on the house. I hope we still have a friendship when I get back.

I'm quite certain that one of the Hatfields asked a McCoy to watch their cat for a week while they were at the beach. The Hatfields tried to smooth it over with an alligator ash tray but we all know how that turned out.

I hope to share some great stories of airplane food and other travel fodder with you in a few days.

Say a quick prayer for my friend.

Or that I can find a really cool alligator ash tray.

Summer Peas

Out of the blue, I called my Aunt Barbara this morning.

She is Mama's sister, the youngest of my grandmother's brood. Because of her youth, she was the fun aunt for my cousins and me. In fact, I have a picture of her in her high school graduation cap and gown, posing nicely, trying to hold me, while I toddled away in my diaper-filled pants.

I am the oldest grandchild, the only girl, so we've always had a special relationship. (Well, since I was potty trained.)

When I called this morning, she said she and my uncle had just come from a market where they purchased peas. She was resting a few minutes before putting them up in the freezer.

"We bought pinkeyes and acre peas," she said.

My mouth began to water.

I remember many summers on my granny's porch, surrounded by Mama, Aunt Barbara, and Granny, with a bucket of unshelled peas in front of me and a green Tupperware bowl in my lap.

I learned very early how to shell peas without loosing a single precious morsel.

Snap off the end, open it, then slide your thumb down the pod, careful to let the peas fall in the bowl and not on the porch. It doesn't take long for your thumb to get sore, so you find ways to continue shelling or rest a moment, until all the peas are shelled and sorted, pausing long enough to drink cold swallows of sweet tea.

The porch was always cooler than the house in the summer. Granny didn't have air conditioning for years. She and my grandfather just didn't see the need. They'd lived as long as they had without it and been just fine, thank you.

So we spent many hot afternoons sitting on the porch, fanning ourselves and swatting the mosquitoes and gnats. I dangled my bare feet from Granny's swing, next to her sprawling ferns and petunias in hanging baskets. I listened to crickets, mockingbirds, and Bobwhite quails.

"Bob White! Bob White! Bob White!" I called into the pecan trees.

The birds answered back and I called again, "Bob White!" in a melodic dance between bird and child.

Our duet continued until the quail flew away to a neighbor's yard. I returned to shelling my bucket of peas, the bowl still resting on my lap. The four of us sat for hours there on the porch until it was time to go in and cook supper.

Sore thumbs, sweet peas, bare feet covered in sap. Thick, humid air filled with calls of bobwhite quails and the faint smell of thunderstorms across town. Afternoons ending with a supper of fried chicken, pork chops, or freshly caught catfish.

These are the memories of generations sitting on a porch.

These are the treasures of a little girl loving summer in the South.

I think she may have fake erased "difficult" from our charts.

Yesterday when Nancy picked up her daughter from my daughter's birthday party, she walked in the kitchen making a face.

Her mouth was all puckered up as she asked me, "Have you heard about the new fluoride treatment?"

Several of my friends and I take our families to the same dentist. This is part of being in a small town. You share the same dentist, the same doctors, the same grocery stores and the same sized water bills.

As Nancy wrinkled her nose, she explained that she had just come from the dentist, "They have a new fluoride treatment that they paint on. It's much more effective, lasts longer, but it leaves this film on your teeth that makes them feel fuzzy."

"Thanks for the heads up," I said, "we're going to the dentist tomorrow."

My daughter and I showed up at the dentist office today, armed with the warning. I climbed in the chair first.

The hygienist donned her best mask, gloved up and began. Sometimes I get a hygienist who believes the scraping (for lack of the proper dental term) is her chance to inflict pain on the helpless, but this hygienist was one of the special ones. She was both gentle and efficient. I'll bet she graduated top of her class.

Another hygienist popped her head in to call my daughter over to the next chair. I waved good-bye while trying not to drool too much, and waited for the polish treatment.

My hygienist looked at her shiny tray and said,"All I have is cookie dough flavor. Would you rather have mint? I can ask someone to get me some."

"No, that's Okay," I answered, "I eat cookie dough."

She giggled. That's when I knew she was normal.

Once she was done, I declared the cookie dough to be truly authentic and suggested that anyone on a diet should just forgo eating the real thing and just have their teeth cleaned.

She giggled again. That's when I knew she was just humoring me.

Within a few minutes, the dentist walked in. We said our polite "how are you doing's?" and she looked at my x-rays.

As she rolled her chair alongside me, I said jokingly, "I heard about your new fluoride treatment."

You could hear floss drop.

The dentist and the assistant exchanged glances.

My dentist then asked,"From who?"

I stammered and hemmed and hawed. I started laughing nervously under the pressure of that little swivel light and said, "I don't know if I should say."

Refusing to buckle under the pressure, I kept Nancy's identity to myself.

I mean, this is how Elaine Benes ended up.

Attempting to stifle the awkward, I assured the dentist that the person was fine with the treatment, that she just wanted to warn me about the fuzzy fluoride.

I then went on to tell her that my friend had once won Dental Patient of The Year for flossing after each meal and showing up at filling appointments an hour early.

My dentist launched into a heartfelt oral essay on the effectiveness of the new fluoride and how badly she feels for making her patients' teeth feel fuzzy. There were percentages and studies with lots of letters and acronyms. By the end of her speech, I felt sorry for her.

She convinced me (almost) that she didn't take it personally and left with a recently whitened smile on her face.

When the assistant walked in with the new fuzzy fluoride treatment, she asked,"Don't you want it?"

I eagerly, insincerely said, "OH, YES!" and chose the melon flavor.

When it was all done, my mouth tasted like cantaloupe and my teeth felt like they needed brushing. Ironic.

Sitting up in the chair, I saw my daughter had returned.

"Do you have fuzzy teeth, too?" I asked her.

"Yep."

"What toothpaste did you get? I got cookie dough. What did you have? Bubble gum?"

"Yes. Ahhhh, man," she said in disappointment.

My hygienist turned to her and said,"You can have cookie dough for your next cleaning."

I added, "Yep. It tastes great. Just like cookie dough. Although it's not that great with the melon chaser."

But the leis turned out just lovely.

I sit here on the sofa, surfing the net and the satellite, sipping sweet tea, and kicking up my tired heels from the day of the birthday party.

My dining table was surrounded this afternoon by sweet giggly girls making leis for our luau themed party. It's a tradition at our house to always make a craft at a party. I love crafts. It seems my love for all things crafty has clouded my judgement.

When I was flipping through the Oriental Trading catalog, I saw kits for making some precious Hawaiian leis and thought to myself, "Hmmph! I could totally make those myself. How hard could it be? Silk flowers, string and some plastic straws- piece of cake."

First, I ordered the flower petals. They come in packs of 250 and the comments on the website read that "there are less of them than you would think."

So, the Southern woman in me, whose greatest fear (other than not looking natural at my funeral) is to never run out of anything for a party, did what her mama would have her do- order twice as many as she thinks she'll need.

That's 500 flower petals.

We only invited 8 kids. That's 9 kids total. That's at least 50 petals per lei.

The petals arrived on the doorstep, along with all of the other Oriental Trading goodies (flamingo straws, flamingo skewers, hibiscus skewers, aloha bracelets and all the other fun finds packaged neatly in plastic bags.) I separated all the petals.

All 500 of them.

All 500 of them that did not have a hole for string.

(sigh)

Then I searched for straws. My idea was to cut them into small segments to separate the flower petals. I sat at the dining table for at least an hour cutting straws and asking my daughter to retrieve them from across the room. The thing about straws is that they become projectiles while being cut into small segments for separating 500 petals.

After finding some white yarn, I fashioned make-shift needles with pipe cleaners, tied the string on and made my own little lei craft kits.

The girls never knew my angst. One even commented on my "cool needle" pipe cleaner. They sat at the table, threading their petals, in random order or careful patterns. I sat at the table with them praising them for their creative talent, not even hinting at the countless hours I spent making their little lei kits.

Mama taught me a lot- to never run out of anything for a party and to never let them know how hard you worked preparing. (Even if you had to cut 500 holes for 500 petals with no holes for string for a Hawaiian lei that was worn for less than 5 minutes. Not that you're keeping track.)

Fill Your Tank

It was a hot Saturday afternoon. I'd put it off long enough. It was time to just get it done. Time to mow the grass.

I really don't mind mowing the grass. It is usually my husband's chore but, every now and then I get out there with the mower and cut the lawn. The one part I dread is filling the gas tank...


For the rest of this post, join me over at The Internet Cafe.

The pink flamingos have landed. Almost.

I'm knee deep in Oriental Trading goods.

We've been planning my daughter's birthday party. The very first decision which must be made (trumping time and date) is theme. It's all about the theme. I have hosted bowling parties, princess parties, cowgirl parties and tropical themed parties.

The bowling party was, by far, the easiest one to prepare. Calling the lady in the hairnet at the bowling alley and telling her how many kids will eat the hot dog and fries basket is about as easy as it gets.

Although, the actual party was not void of drama. It rained so hard that day. I had to actually go back in the house and change clothes after gingerly sheltering the birthday cake while loading the car. I sloshed myself into the bowling alley in the flooded parking lot, lugging treat bags, the cake and gifts.

When it was all over, my daughter expressed her dissapointment about one omitted detail- balloons. Apparently, in the four year-old world, balloons are a staple of birthday parties. Forget the bowling and the hot dogs.

Oh, and in the three year-old world, the princess dress-up outfit must be put together correctly. Yes, Belle and Cinderella are friends, but it doesn't give you license to mix a Belle dress with Cinderella plastic shoes.

Just FYI, to you mothers out there.

I love planning these parties. Sometimes they are simple. Other times we get a little crazy. Like this year.

We discussed the various themes and decided on the luau. This is great because I have already hosted a luau party. I knew just what to do. Grab the Oriental Trading catalog, turn to "luau" and make a list. It was almost as easy as calling the lady in the hairnet.

Decorations are simple. Just a colorful tablecloth and some festive plates and napkins. The menu was a serious topic of discussion. We decided on cupcakes, fruit kabobs, and little smokies. I was going to be authentic and roast a pig in the backyard but something about city ordinances just ruined that idea.

I found the cutest little bendy straws with flamingos on them. I know that flamingos really scream Florida and not Hawaii but, hello, bendy straws!

On a completely random, unrelated thought, this reminds me of a friend I worked with right out of college. She said as soon as she had moved into her first home she was going to buy herself a set of plastic flamingos for the yard just for the total, tacky entertainment value. You know what? She did.

I just wish we were still in touch so I could borrow them for the party.

;>)

Important Robe Recall

There is an important recall on robes by Blair. Six deaths have occurred because the robes are highly flammable. Several women who died were cooking while wearing the robe.

Please take a minute to check this link and read the recall to see if you own this particular robe.

You can also read about how you can receive recall emails from the Consumer Products Safety Commission.

Be safe, readers!

We interrupt our irregularly scheduled program.

So, I promise not to blog about deli meat. Or cheese. Or any of the other cold cuts.

It's been days since I've posted anything at all and I'm not really sure why, except for the fact that nothing exciting has happened.

I've spent the week driving my daughter back and forth to a kids' art and poetry class, attending picnic get-togethers, running to the drug store, the grocery store and the Secondhand Starbucks.

That's pretty much it.

Oh, and I had some blood drawn on Wednesday for some routine lab work. The lady who does the labs is so good that I took a comment card home and told her I'd write a letter. She is the best needle sticker EVER. This lady is so good that there isn't even a little dot, much less a bruise. Plus, it doesn't hurt.

She has skills.

Sadly, I get excited about the fact that someone poked me with a needle without inflicting pain. I should get out more.

Tonight, I plan to check out the new show "She's Got The Look," although I have a feeling it will end up getting on my nerves. I know the commercials have really been annoying.

My daughter and I were watching the commercial for the show (about looking good and modeling over the age of 35) and she blurted out, "That is so stupid!"

"What is stupid about it? Looking good when you're old?" I asked.

"No."

"Then, what?"

"How they're dressed."

"Oh, like in bikinis and stuff?"

"Yes."

"You're right. You can look good without being half-dressed."

"Yeah," she added," you don't have to look like Queen Elizabeth, but you don't have to look like a biker woman either."

"I agree," and I smiled a smug Mom smile and patted myself on the back, just a little.

No offense to Queen Elizabeth.

;>)

Diary of some deli meat.

Dear Diary,

I'm deli meat. People call me "turkey." I don't mind 'cause I'm special. Honey Roasted. Sweet and savory, I'm a favorite. My competition is smoked. You could say he's the fiery one of the cold cuts.

Today I was hanging out in the frig. I can't remember how long I've been in there or how long I'll last, although the date on my package says I'm good for another week.

I was chatting it up with Monterey Jack when the light came on. The lady of the house poked around a bit looking for something for her lunch. She found me.

I saw her eyeing the date on my package. She didn't look convinced either. So she opened up my packaging, looked closely and took a whiff. She sniffed again, then put me on the counter next to a jar of Hellman's and a loaf of bread.

Again, she checked the date on my package. Took a whiff.

The look on her face told me she still wasn't convinced but, before I knew it, she was lathering the mayo on two slices of bread. (I'm more of a Dijon guy.) She took a few slices of me, folded them on the bread, sliced the new sandwich into two triangles and took a bite.

Then another.

And another.

Then she wrinkled up her nose, opened up the sandwich, removed me completely, put the two pieces of bread back together and finished her lunch.

Now I'm hanging out in the trash next to a half-eaten peach and a used Bounty paper towel.

I'll bet Smokey is never treated like this.

Sincerely,
H.R. Turkey

Tomorrow- A trip to the landfill. It should be fun.

It's Official

Summer is in full swing, if by full swing you mean staying up late, sleeping in and doing nothing at all during the day, except for spur-of-the-moment fun.

I am starting to feel sorry for Mrs. Ingalls. Her summers were bogged down with thrashing the wheat and putting up vegetables for the long winter. Funny. I just can't picture her collecting ladybugs in a jar.

Yesterday Daughter and I met some friends for coffee. Well, N and I had coffee. The kids had water or milk.

N and I caught up on life. The kids entertained themselves with huge cinnamon rolls and card games and none of them asked to leave until it was time.

If you are a mom, you totally get that last sentence. If you are a mom of preschoolers, please let this be a testimony to what is possible in your future. Just keep the faith.

After coffee time, Daughter ended up going to play with N's daughter, C. The girls played with the dogs, tried to play with the cat, and collected ladybugs in an official bug collecting container.

When I picked her up, Daughter was helping N finish making cupcakes. A mom after my own heart, N let the girls eat the leftover batter from the bowl. YUM.

We said our goodbyes and headed home to collecting more ladybugs in our own yard and silly summer things that we won't remember but loved doing just the same.

I ignored the laundry and the vacuuming. I didn't tell Daughter to clean her room. No one had homework. No one had a test the next day.

Our day ended with us in our pj's, each with a spoon, eating peanut butter from the jar, a jar that may someday become a home to ladybugs or caterpillars or some other creepy crawly thing.

Yep, this is summer.

Works for Me: Free Root Beer Float

On Wednesday, June 3 from 8:00PM- midnight, Sonic is giving away root beer floats.

FREE ice cream. Hello.

You're welcome.

(Sonic did not pay me to share this vital information. However, I will be sipping a nice root beer float at say, around 8:01 Wednesday night.)

See Kristen for more great tips!

Sir, what is the white powdery substance in your carry-on?

Saturday morning I was sleeping peacefully when the phone rang.

"Hello," I answered in my groggy state.

"What kind of flour do you need? All purpose or Self-rising?" asked the familiar voice on the other end.

"Self-rising, I replied, "Love you."

"Love you, too," said the voice.

It was Hubs.

Y'all know I am picky about my biscuit flour. Mama has shipped it to me and brought it to me in person. I have run slap out and my people are starting to suffer.

When Hubs said he was going on a quick overnight work trip to the south, I asked him to buy some good biscuit flour.

On his way to the airport Saturday morning, he stopped in at Wal-mart to purchase my White Lily flour and, on a serious mission to find the right kind, called me on his cell phone to double check. After all, we're not talking about coming home with the wrong thing and driving back to the store to exchange it. We're talking about a plane ride across the country.

So, minutes after he went through the self check-out at Wal-mart, he boarded a plane with the goods.

This is what he brought home.

That's 20 pounds of flour, my friends.

I'll be making biscuits every day, several times a day, for the next century. You'll notice the busted bag to the right. (You just can't trust the airlines with your precious cargo anymore.)

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to run to Wal-mart and purchase 10 gallons of buttermilk.

Friday's Fave Five: American flags and lovey dovey stuff

Susanne is so gracious to host Friday's Fave Five each week. I love her blog and I love that little bird in her banner. It makes me smile, Susanne, every time the page loads.

So, on to my favorites of this week.

1. Memorial Day- I love all things patriotic. I like to wear red, white and blue with a flag lapel pin and all things Uncle Sam. I love to celebrate everything that is good about this country like freedom and courage and hot dogs. It's an honor to remember the people who have literally paid the price for it all- something I never want to take for granted.

2. Sleeping in- My old physics teacher never had it this good. Ahhhh... summer.

3. A sense of humor in the midst of people who literally crack me up- Daughter and I were at the grocery store the other day where we saw not one, but TWO men with plumber's pants. One was bending over trying to fix the freezer and the other was walking out of the store. Let's just say his red suspenders were not effective. I may add that this is the first time I have seen someone with plumber's pants who was walking UPRIGHT.

And notice that I said plumber's "pants" and not the other word which rhymes with mutt because I try my best to make my mama proud.

4. Anniversaries- It's just nice to take an entire day to love someone. Not that you don't love them the other 364 days.

5. The Glenn Beck segment on Friday's O'Reilly Factor. Glenn Beck is funny. I think we sat near each other in psych 101. If we didn't, we should have.

I would like to add that it took me all day to write this pitiful list. Every time I turned on the computer I was interrupted by something like people needing nourishment, the phone, a rude cat or just life in general.

This could be a good thing. Without all of that, I'd have no material.