Armchair Detectives

This morning while watching Huckleberry Hound:

"You know we never see Clementine," I said to Daughter.

"Huh?" she answered.

"He keeps singing about her and looking for her."

"I think in one show they show a picture of her."

"It's so sad. He never finds her."

"You think he'd find her. Her shoe size is number 9."

Strikes and Mrs.

Last week I got an email from Hubs that said," Want to meet me after work at the bowling alley and bowl and we can have bowling alley food for chow?"

To which I replied," Why are you going bowling?"

"It's my bowling night. And could you bring my bowling shirt? Oh, and could you go buy me a bowling shirt? Not really. Just thought it would be something fun for us to do."

"Okay. But only if you let me use the bowling ball that says 'Homer."

So, it was a deal.

Our family hasn't been bowling in years. We have taken Daughter bowling several times and we always enjoy it.

I didn't bowl as a kid. Mama and Daddy didn't bowl. I think it was a Southern thing. Plus, the bowling alleys in the town where I grew up were not necessarily where ladies and gentlemen went on a Saturday night. I suppose the bowling alleys were one step up from the pool halls, but it was a tiny, sticky, gum-covered step.

These days you can find a family friendly bowling alley. There are still those that are, shall we say, shady? They are usually easy to spot. The snack bar is really just a bar, neon signs are brighter than the lighting in the restrooms, and a woman in a tight t-shirt checks out your shoes and oddly, she's run out of Lysol.

We met Hubs after work and headed over to the bowling alley. I was pleased to see families there, instead of people with names like "Stan" or "Helga." No one was using any bad language or sporting any obscene tattoos, except for that preschooler on lane five.

Bowling alley food can be quite tasty. And cheap. That's a combo you can't pass up (like the cheeseburger and curly fries.) After our dinner of greasy grill goodness, we selected our bowling shoes and balls.

I have never understood how to select a bowling ball. I always just stand there at the little ball holder, picking them up, putting them down, until I choose the best one, which is usually based on color instead of weight.

My goal is to choose a color I love while selecting a ball that will not break my wrist. I find it works well.

All through the night, Daughter and I double teamed Hubs. Our goal was to beat him, either of us, both of us. It didn't matter. We let Daughter use the bumpers, so at one point she won a game.

Let me clarify. Hubs' and my only handicaps were that we didn't have the bumpers.

Ahem.

Hubs won the other games. At one point we were neck and neck and I thought I may win. I made a few strikes, quite a few spares, and we won't mention the number of gutter balls.

Hubs added the scores and decided that our team's total score for the whole night may be a perfect score of 300.

We played four games.

Over the weekend I told Hubs we should make it a monthly family outing. It was a lot of fun.

At last I've found a sport that I can compete with Hubs on a level playing field. To his credit, he does have a bad knee.

To my credit, I ate too many curly fries.

I wonder if Erma ever had to bathe a cat.

Maggie has been in need of a bath for some time now. That things she does with her tongue just isn't cutting it.

I am the only one who bathes Maggie. I don't know how it happened, but when the Cat Bather assignment was given out, Hubs was off to the teacher's lounge making copies on the mimeograph machine.

I've given Maggie baths since she was a kitten, so you would think by now that she knows she isn't going to drown or die or be tortured. She could easily stand there nicely in the tub and wait patiently as I remove the stink from her fur.

But, then again, we're talking about Maggie.

So she stands there in the tub (and by stand I mean tries to escape continually) and moans and cries so as to alert the neighbors that she is drowning or dying or being tortured. Fortunately for us, all of our neighbors either listen to loud music,aren't home, or just figure the noise is part of our weirdness.

I've been putting it off for a while. It's cold. It's Maggie. Last night I stopped procrastinating. Maggie needed a bath and she has been sporting an Alfalfa at the base of her tail that would make Darla scream.

How does a cat get an Alfalfa?

Anyway.

I filled the tub with warm water, got out the sweet-scented, hairball-reducing shampoo, stacked some towels, and scooped up Maggie from her usual spot- the sofa. As soon as I turned the corner towards our bedroom, she began to wail. She may be old and stinky, but she's not stupid.

I plopped her in the tub and commenced to bathing. And praying. And wondering why in the world Hubs went back to the shelter to get her. In record time, she was clean and I was soaking wet.

Maggie's yellow eyes stared me down with disdain as I wrapped her in an old towel. I put her on the bathroom counter and gave her a quick blow dry. At one point she looked at herself in the mirror. She was not amused.

Once she was nearly dry, I let her down and she plodded away in disgust. She moped and snubbed me for at least an hour.

I can't wait to see what I find later on the rug.

Oh, and Hubs, you may want to get a new toothbrush. It was resting on the bathroom counter during Maggie's beauty treatment.

I cannot be responsible for Maggie's actions during that split second I had to turn my back.

Lid's Random Dozen- Plinko

Head over to Lid's and get the lowdown on the Plinko title. Here are her awesome questions for the week.

1. How old is the oldest pair of shoes in your closet?
I had to go to my closest and look. There is a pair of black loafers that I think may be five or six years old. I never wear them anymore, but they are my back up pair of black loafers until I get a new pair.
Looks like I need a new pair.

2. Did you buy Girl Scout cookies this year? If so, what variety?
Yes. GS are the only ones I will purchase anything from door-to-door. I'm a sucker. I bought a box of Lemonades and Peanut Butter Patties. Here's a thought for the Girl Scout Association: How about selling them at a time when we aren't thinking about swimsuit season? Just a thought.

3. Do you know how to ballroom dance? If not, would you like to?
No, and yes. That would be fun. I'm not sure I want to enough to take lessons at this point in life.

4. Were you a responsible child/teenager?
I'm so grateful for the forward slash in this question.
Child- YES!
Teenager- Notsomuch

5. How many of this year's Oscar-nominated movies did you see?
One. Up. I still cry every time I watch it. Hubs and Daughter always look over at me at certain parts to see if I'm wiping my eyes.

6. If you're going to have a medical procedure done, such as having blood drawn, is it easier for you to watch someone else having the procedure done or have it done yourself?
It doesn't bother me either way. Cartoons make me sob, but needles...ehhhh... piece of cake.

7. What is your favorite day of the week and why?
Saturday.
No school.
No commitments.
Nap.

8. Do you miss anyone right now?
I suppose if I said, "no" that I would be heartless. If I say, "yes," then I'm forced to explain. The teenager in me will say, "maybe."
Seriously, I miss family that has passed away and friends who live out of town.

9. Do hospitals make you queasy?
No. See #6. Libraries? Another story.


10. At which store would you like to max-out your credit card. Not that you ever would, you responsible person, you.
This is tough. It would have to be a store with gorgeous dishes and linens.

11. Are you true to the brand names of products/items?
Yes.
Heinz ketchup
Hellman's (or Best) mayo
Diet Coke
White Lily flour
Jim Dandy grits
Cover Girl face powder
Just to name a few!

12. Which is more difficult: looking into someone’s eyes when you are telling someone how you feel, or looking into someone’s eyes when he/she is telling you how he/she feels?
Just the question makes me squirm a little. Can't I just write them a letter or a blog post or something?

Visit Lid for the Random Dozen. She is the hostess with the mostest. She also uses better modifiers than "mostest."

What A Mama Does

I went to the mailbox today and found a treasure. No, it wasn't the valentine. I've given up on that. It's probably lost. I keep picturing someone in the deep rainforest of Papua New Guinea trying to read it, holding the twenty up to the sun, and trying to figure out the meaning of all the stickers on the envelope.

It's all quite fascinating, especially since I'm fairly sure people in the rain forest don't actually get mail.

Anyway.

Mama sent us an envelope of treasures.

She recently found a very old photo of my great grandparents. It's one of those black and white photos where the subjects sit next to each other, but not very close. Neither of them smile and you know they probably only took the photo because a photographer was in town. I look at it and wonder what work they had to put aside to take the time for the snapshot.

She also included newspaper articles. This is what mothers do when their daughters move away. They clip and highlight newspaper articles from the hometown paper and mail them. The biggest news is always a wedding, or maybe the birth of a baby. Sometimes someone wins an award. Then there are the festivals and town tragedies.

One of the sweetest items she included was a clipping from a Belk circular. It featured a gorgeous comforter set in pinks and greens from the Biltmore collection. Next to the photo, Mama wrote,"Looks like something you would like."

It's not that I'm going to order the comforter. I'm not even looking for one. Mama just knew that I'd love it (and I do) and that I'd appreciate her sharing it with me (which I do.) What's more endearing is that she recognizes what I love.

That's what a Mama does.

Even the ones in Papua New Guinea.

I live in a non-pony country.

Click on the link below for more proof that I can relate anything in life to a Seinfeld episode. Other people play the Kevin Bacon game. I prefer Jerry.

Here's to all the immigrants who had to leave their ponies behind.

Click here for the video.

Happy Weekend!

Lessons From The Barn

Y'all know that Daughter has been taking horseback riding lessons. She adores it and she has learned a lot. It is amazing what a child's brain can store.

Anything related to animals or DS games is instantly filed and locked away. Other things like, oh, cleaning their rooms or picking up the towel off the floor are instantly dumped.

Sigh.

When she first began horseback lessons, I was clueless. (Okay, I'm still clueless.) I thought a pony was a baby horse. I didn't know what a cinch was or that there were special names for colors and patterns.

I was never around horses growing up. I was never interested in horses, either. Many of you shudder at the thought, I know. My own daughter thinks I'm nuts.

The truth is that I was a wimp and that I really didn't like the smell of manure (who does?) I also never liked to be dirty for very long. I liked to play in the dirt, but once I was done, I loved to come inside, take a long bath, play with my Barbie, and put on some nice, clean footie pajamas.

That's still me, minus the Barbie.

It also takes me a very long time to get up the nerve to try something new. I am very cautious and get frustrated when I don't get something right away. This is why I never learned to drive a stick shift. (And why Hubs will ski alone for the rest of his life. Bless his heart.)

However, I love animals and I appreciate them. I also appreciate the people who work with them.

That's why I've dedicated this post to Daughter's horseback riding instructor and to all the beautiful creatures she shares with us each week.


All I Ever Needed To Know, I Learned In The Barn:
A Clueless Southern Girl's Attempt At Horse Humor



1. Horses are a lot like people. They have personalities, feelings and moods.

2. Horses are much different than people. They weigh more than you do and can kick you in the head if you don't follow safety instructions.

3. Always wear a helmet when around horses.

4. The barn is a lot like your home. Everything should be put in its place so you can find it when you need it later.

5. It is easier to motivate a kid to put away tack than it is to put away toys. Maybe we should tell our kids that they are raised in a barn.

6. When the ride is over (good or bad) it's always best to walk it out.

7. Always listen to your instructor.

8. Always listen to your horse.

9. Stuff happens. When it does, you shovel it, learn from it, and get back on.

10. Sometimes you step in it. (To avoid this, see #'s 7 and 8.)

Random Dozen: A Little Odd, But I Think I Love You

1. Do you prefer even or odd numbers? Any particular reason?

Odd numbers. Particularly, 3, 5, and 7. I have no idea why. Maybe it is a sign of some strange mental illness or abnormal aversions to post offices and libraries.

2. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being "not at all" and 10 being Carly Simon-worthy, how vain are you?

I have my usual hang-ups like most women, but in all I'd say I'm a 4. This is evident by the amount of roots I have right now.

3. Among these Irish stereotypes, with which do you identify most closely? Talkative, Proud, Inquisitive, Love to party, Hot-tempered

Inquisitive and maybe a little hot-tempered.

4. How lucky do you consider yourself?

I've been blessed beyond measure in so many ways. Some days I forget that.

5. What is the subject of your favorite post that you've written?

Maggie. She's lovable and quirky and could possibly prefer odd numbers.

6. Describe March weather where you live in three words.

Wait Five Minutes

7. How apt are you at detecting blarney when you hear it? (Smooth talk, flattery)

VERY. I can spot a line or a schmooze from a mile away.

8. How "green" are you, environmentally speaking?

Not very. It's the rebel in me.

9. What is your favorite song this week?

I haven't listened to a lot of music this week, except for the radio in the car. I'll have to go with the opening music to The Amazing Race. I'm excited about the new season and the cowboys are cracking me up.

10. You are walking along and see a coin on the ground. What denomination does it have to be before you will stop to pick it up?

None. Daughter spots free coins quicker than I spot Blarney. If I do see one, I pick it up and hand it to her.

11. Complete the sentence: "Every time I look outside my window ...."

...I wish we had trees."

12. What was the #1 song on the day you were born?

"I Think I Love You" by the Partridge Family.

(Lid, I was so glad it was a song I actually like!)



See The Lid and her blog for more. She doesn't spout any Blarney.

Movies, Sales, and Naps

When we first married, I looked forward to Saturdays with anticipation, planning and plotting the fun things Hubs and I would do.

During the week, I'd glance over at him on the sofa and say,"What do you want to do this weekend?"

"I don't know. What do you wanna do?"

"I don't know. Whatever."

"What is there to do?"

"I don't know."

By the time Saturday arrived, we usually ended up just going to a matinee while sneaking in snacks from Wal-mart.

We always went to a matinee. Newlyweds do not have a lot of money. You could say the matinee is the newlywed version of the early bird.

On our really exciting ventures, we went out to dinner after the movie. (Hey, we saved all that money on movie tickets and cheap snacks. Why not splurge?)

Now we are parents, but the weekends are pretty much the same.

"So, what do you want to do this weekend?"

"I don't know. What is there to do?"

"I don't know. There are no kid movies playing."

So Saturday often involves Hubs doing yard work during the summer months, me going grocery shopping, and Daughter playing, cleaning her room, or just being a kid.

On a really exciting Saturday, I get to go shopping or have my hair done. Sometimes I'll meet a friend for coffee or take a nap.

Or BOTH.

But not at the same time.

Those couches at the coffee shop are quite comfy. The baristas do let you lounge freely on them, but they usually draw the line once you fall asleep.

The homeless look just isn't good for business.

Saturday Nancy and I met for coffee. We chatted. We caught up. And, yes, we may have lounged a bit. It was all perfectly acceptable because neither of us fell asleep. (It may have something to do with the double espresso.)

After our coffee time, I went to JCPenney to return a catalog item. (I've become my grandmother. She loved the catalog.) Then I found some great doorbuster sales.

I've always been fascinated by the doorbuster. There is always a time limit, like "only from 9:00-10:00" or "only on a Tuesday when there is a full moon."

This time I managed to be there at the right time when the moon was the correct phase and I found the cutest lounge pants, t-shirt and comfy socks, all for the low, low price of twenty five bucks! I happen to be wearing them right now. I'd take a photo, but it's morning and well, I'm in my pajamas.

After the super find at JCPenney, I headed for Hobby Lobby to buy some picture frames because they were on sale for 50% off. They're always on sale for 50% off. I found three for gifts and then stood in line for a sweet forever. I was tempted to just put them back and walk out in protest or in principle, but it took me an hour to find the three I was looking for. Plus, they were 50% off.

My Hobby Lobby trip then lead me to the grocery store where I managed to spend over $100 and had nothing to show for it, except for some really small apples and a supply of butter for Hubs.

So, that was my Saturday. No matinee. Although, I may have had some cheap snacks.

How about you? Did you do anything exciting?

Better yet, did you get to take a nap?

Friday's Fave Five- Olympics

So, here are my favorites for the week. I seem to have some kind of Olympic theme this week.

Notice none of them involves the postman. The reason I pick on Newman and not some punk kids taking things from our mailbox in some kind of teenage caper is because our mailbox is locked.

Gotta let it go, m'am.

Back to my favorites.

1. The two performances by Canadian figure skater, Joannie Rochette. There is always something about the ladies' figure skating that is emotional. This story both breaks my heart and inspires me. I was so glad to see her win a medal.

2. Gold Medalist Kim Yu-Na from South Korea. After hearing about the immense pressure this young lady is under as a celebrity and skater in her country, I was so proud to see her win. Her performance was incredible.

I am also glad that the judges don't let the personal stories affect their scores. These ladies won based on merit and performance.

3. Watching and hearing my own national anthem play.

4. Watching and hearing other national anthems play.

I am a patriot of my own country, but I can be moved by the patriotism of others. What an amazing opportunity to stand there on the podium, exhausted, and watch your country's flag raised.

5. Seeing the Canadians win. Hubs thinks I'm nuts or just sappy. I always love it when people from the host country win a medal. What a proud moment to be able to win and be surrounded by your countrymen on home soil.

See my Canadian friend Susanne for some more great posts. Thanks, Susanne!

Keeping It Pithy

1. Still no valentine. The glass is half empty part of me says, "Someone is enjoying Daughter's money from her grandparents."

The glass is half full part of me says, "The valentine is just stuck in a dusty, old canvas mail container and will arrive."

Then the glass is half empty part of me interrupts in her grumpy voice and says, "Next time they'll take the valentine, the twenty, and the glass."

2. I am out of dinner ideas. Right now I'm boiling chicken on the stove hoping that by the time it is done, I'll have a recipe to put it in. Unless I have a recipe revelation, we'll be having Chicken Divan.

3. I need a haircut. Desperately. We won't discuss the roots and the gray. I can't decide what kind of cut I want, so I keep waiting. If I wait much longer, I'll have to start wearing hats.

4. Must go. Just saw Newman's little truck. Maybe he's delivering the valentine. Or a new set of glasses...

An Open Letter To Newman

Most letters begin with "Dear," but Newman, you and I both know that would be stretching it.

So.

Newman,

We've had our ups and downs. Mostly downs. We've had our disappointments. Mostly mine.

The time has come when I feel we must make amends. This enmity between us has affected the lives of my loved ones and it breaks my heart.

Over the years I've scoffed at your profession. The late mail and damaged packages. The tracking system which is just a ruse. Your attitude. Your little truck... okay I never made fun of that.

Alas, I set aside all of my unused two-cent stamps and my grievances and reach out to you with one request.

Please deliver my daughter's valentine.

Her grandmother sent it over two weeks ago. She wrote legibly and didn't use a red envelope. Still, the valentine (and the twenty tucked inside) are somewhere out there in Postal World. Lost. Lonely. Torn. (Man, I hope not.)

In the spirit of St. Valentine and all the other Hallmark holidays, let's call a truce. A little girl and her piggy bank are waiting.

I'll be at the mailbox at our usual time. You know the place.

Painfully Sincere,
Melanie

P.S. You'd better not be spending that twenty on root beer and TV Guides.

Roughing It

Hubs pitched the tent. Then he inflated the single air mattress, covered it with an arctic sleeping bag, added a pink snowman pillow, a stuffed bunny, a Build-A-Bear black lab, and a flashlight.

And that was just his sleeping area.

He and Daughter are camping in the backyard. They invited me to join them, but I don't do camping. Remember?

Seriously, I wouldn't mind it in our own yard. The bathroom is steps away and I can easily reach my Diet Coke. However, I declined the invitation. There's something sweet about a Daddy/Daughter camping outing.

I'm tucked inside with Maggie and the laptop.

All. By. Myself.

As soon as I finish this post, I may just grab the tissue box and watch The Notebook.

Oh wait, we're out of Puffs with lotion.

Now, that's roughing it.

In a last ditch effort, I'm considering clothes pins.

All of my life I've known that something was unusual (okay, weird) about my sense of smell.

I can smell things others can't. Kind of like that kid in Sixth Sense, but without the macabre.

Mama is the same way. Although, she says her sense of smell has diminished over time. We both have a lot of problems with allergies. So I've always attributed our freak-of-nature skill with malfunctioning sinuses or something.

Or we're just strange.

Sometimes this unusual talent (?) is nice. I'm able to enjoy flowers much more, my laundry smells fresh longer, and I can actually tell when Krispy Kreme has hot doughnuts without looking at the neon sign.

Maybe that's stretching it a bit.

Other times my olfactory oddity can be most unpleasant. For example, Small Town is surrounded by cows. (Like in the thousands. You do the math.)

Or when there is a rotten potato in the pantry, or an unusually strong onion odor in the trash, or the most debilitating experience of entering a public restroom.

May I also note my never used a porta-potty record. Now, can you see why?

So, as you can see. My bloodhound super skills are both blessing and curse.

Which is the point of this post. You knew I'd get to it eventually.

I have a problem. I can't seem to find the perfect anti-bacterial hand soap. This may seem insignificant to normal people, but it is quite the dilemma for me.

Bath and Body makes the neatest foam soaps, but they dry out my hands in the winter. Right now I have the Fresh Linen scent in our bathroom. I was going to suffer through the dryness for the sake of, you know, freshness, but I tell you, it smells like cough medicine to me.

Yes, as in Robitussin.

I bought a moisturizing hand soap with shea butter, but I've realized that there is something about the scent of shea butter that bothers me.

You can see. I have issues.

So, my inter-peeps, do you have any suggestions?

I do love lavender, vanilla, and fruity scents. Any products you love? Hate? Any great moisturizing hand soaps?

I know there are more pressing problems in the world right now, but we'll save feeding the starving people for tomorrow.

My nose and hands would be most grateful.

P.S. As a strange, side note, I had to give up Maybelline Stiletto mascara because the smell strangely reminds me of beer.

LidNa's (not a typo) Random Dozen: Olympic Style

1. If you could compete in one Olympic event (not necessarily winter sports) what would it be?
We're assuming that in an alternate universe, I am athletic. Right?
'Kay.
In Bizzaro World, I would love to be a figure skater. It's the closet thing to dancing and the uniforms are the coolest. I am so sophisticated.

2. Do remember a specific Olympic moment from the past?
Nancy Kerrigan. Bless her heart. And I mean that. For real.

3. Have you ever known anyone who competed in the Olympics?
No. However, I have a friend who has an extremely talented son who could possibly end up in the Olympics. He is a talented swimmer and his mother drives him to swimming practice every morning at dark-thirty and every afternoon at whatever-thirty. Rain or shine. Hot or cold. SHOUT OUT TO LL! Yes, you!

4. If everyday activities were Olympic-worthy, which activity would you have a gold medal in?
Wow. I have to think on this one. I'd love to say cleaning or cooking or organizing. Seriously, if I could hope for them playing the national anthem because of my efforts, the activity would have to be the longest time spent in yoga pants. Record breaking, I tell ya.

5. Do you know anything about your ethnic heritage?
Part Indian or Native American or whatever, part British and part Irish Wolfhound. I mean, I may have some Irish. Who knows?

6. Do you enjoy sleeping late?
Yes! Finally something that would win me the gold medal!

7. Have you ever performed CPR on anyone? Do you know how? (Yes, that's two, I know. Whatevs.)
No, unless you count that poor dummy at the Red Cross class (the plastic one on the floor.)
Yes, I do. I hope I never have to use it.
But not like I hope I never have to use my killer karate moves.
(Is there a gold medal in making up skills?)

8. Name one country you'd like to visit and explain why.
Greece. Just always have.

9. Have you ever fixed up a couple romantically?
No. Most of my friends are probably thankful.

10. What is the last book you read?
The Great Christmas Bowl by Susan May Warren
It's a novella and yes, it's about Christmas. But that doesn't mean you wouldn't love it right now in the middle of February.

11. Do you enjoy sleeping late? NO, YOU write the question! How's that for random??
Okay, here's my question-
What food would you make accessible to all Olympic athletes at Olympic Park?
Good Southern cooking with fried chicken, biscuits, vegetables cooked in bacon fat, all slathered in butter. If you can eat that and still do a triple toe loop, you're a real athlete.

12. What is your favorite meal at your favorite restaurant?
Thai Basil Fried rice at Thai Kitchen in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida.
Tied with
Crab cakes or Gulf Shrimp from Dewey Destin in Destin, Florida

Thanks, Linda!

Soon Maggie Will Ask For Her Own Cell Phone

In addition to the usual Valentine hoopla at our house, yesterday was Maggie's birthday.

She turned thirteen. In human years, she's a full blown teenager. In cat years, she's just old.

We really don't know when Maggie's birthday actually falls. It is just an estimate based on when we rescued her from that awful place called the shelter, how old they thought she was, and the fact that Valentine's Day seemed the perfect birthday for a kitten.

Maggie was a gift to me from Hubs. We had visited the shelter several times looking for a kitten. In fact, I had even met Maggie, commented on how cute she was, then could not decide. Days passed and Hubs decided to visit the shelter again to surprise me with a kitten.

When he arrived at the shelter, there was Maggie (named Gypsy at the time) and he thought it was fate. He later said he got her because I said she was cute.

"I think all cats are cute,"I said,"if we brought home every cat I thought was cute, we'd be breaking some kind of animal control laws or something."

The truth is that Maggie had already been adopted. In between our first meeting and Hubs' return visit, a family had adopted her and then brought her back. (They claimed it had something to do with their landlord or something, but after thirteen years of shear JOY with Maggie, we know better.)

Hubs paid the fee, put her in a little cardboard box and made the long drive home. She mewed the whole way, sticking her little black nose through the holes. He rolled in the driveway and asked me to come outside to his car. There was Maggie's nose, pressing against the cardboard.

Yep, I melted.

For Maggie and for Hubs.

We named her Maggie after the Magpie bird. She's been the gift that keeps on taking ever since.

Each Valentine's Day we celebrate her birthday. By celebrate I mean we say "Happy Birthday, Maggie!" as she sleeps on the sofa and gives us the stink eye.

Really, how would you celebrate a cat's birthday? They are natural loners, so there are no friends to invite. They are picky, so they're tough to buy for. And they're ungrateful, so there would never be any thank you notes.

You just leave them alone, let them sleep as much as they want, let them out when they want, feed them when they want, and keep the litter box clean.

Come to think of it, it is a lot like having a teenager.

Only without the little cardboard box.

You could call me Phil.

This morning was the first morning I've felt like greeting society. And I don't mean greeting society as in wearing a formal gown and practicing my curtsy. No. I mean opening the blinds and taking off my scary, anti-social, sweatpants attire.

I have a cold.

Daughter gave me her cold, which is really my own fault, because I've always taught her to share.

As usual, she was sick for a short time, then quickly got better. My almost 40 year-old body takes much longer to recover. I am not a really whiny sick person. I'm just a sickly sick person. I require more sleep (in addition to my already high requirement), boxes of Puffs with Lotion, and gallons of Diet Coke.

A quick aside. Wouldn't it be cool if they sold Diet Coke by the gallon? Okay, maybe it would lose its fizz fairly quickly, but still. Cool.

As you can see by my wanderings, the cold medicine is beginning to kick in. That, and my third cup of coffee.

I do have a lot of catching up to do. Valentine's Day is nearly here, my house could use a good scrub, and groceries... Groceries? You mean a sub from Quizno's isn't a balanced meal?

Unnecessary Ruffness

So, I was one of about 5 people yesterday who didn't watch the Super Bowl. Instead, we watched the Puppy Bowl.

I wasn't thrilled with the NFL's choice for the half time show. (I won't go into that here. Just Google it.) I'm not a huge football fan anyway. And, after the Janet fiasco, you never really know what is going to pop up. (Excuse the pun.)

Hubs was out of town for the day. So Daughter and I sat in front of the TV, ate chili dogs, Cheetos and Doritos, and watched puppies and kitties play. I'm telling you, it beats pro football any day.

On another note, we are supposed to have more snow this week. Oh, SPRING, wherefore art thou?

How was your weekend??

More things I don't understand: Food Edition

Once again, I'm baffled.

This time it's about food.

1. Why is it that the teenager making my sandwich at Sonic has to wear disposable gloves, but the professional chef at the fancy restaurant can handle every single shrimp from my scampi in order to plate it beautifully?

2. Why does the lady at Winn Dixie have to wear a hairnet while she makes my kid's birthday cake but Duff's staff can stand over a thousand dollar cake for days without their hair pulled back (or any gloves, I might add?)

3. Why is it never okay to eat an entire plate of bacon and eggs unless I am on a special protein diet?

4. Who actually prefers Diet Pepsi? Someone is buying it, but no one wants to admit it.

5. Who decided to put carrots in cake?

6. When you go to Sonic in the mall, do they have little cars for you to sit in?

7. Does the egg salad look over at the chicken salad in the deli counter and wonder,"That's what I could have been."

8. When Martha Stewart does something over-the-top, does she say,"Oh, that was so me."

9. When Rachael Ray is at home, does she cook her 30 Minute Meals and try to beat her own time?

10. The Food Critics on Iron Chef America are so soft. I'll give you a food critic. A two year-old child.

What about you? What food stuff don't you understand?

Partially Thawed

Now I know why Mr. Rogers became friends with his neighbors. He was preparing for when he got snowed in.

On Saturday morning, after two straight days of going absolutely nowhere and crazy, I asked Hubs to drive me to the mall.

I'm ninety.

Seriously, we had no idea what the roads were like. The street in front of our house was still covered with snow. I knew the major roads were clear from what I had read in the paper, but that wouldn't help me if I couldn't get to them.

I had three choices:

1) Attempt to drive myself and have to call Hubs to rescue me from the ditch.
2) Let Hubs drive me to the mall.
3) Stay home one more day and go nuts with cabin fever making Hubs wish he had driven me to the mall, or that I was stuck in a ditch. Oh, I kid. Sort of.

Hubs offered to drive me and we all bundled up. I trusted his driving more than mine. He has skills.

I wore my Target snow boots like a REAL BONAFIDE winter expert. I was a wee bit self-conscious wearing snow boots shopping. They seemed a little casual compared to say, some cute ballet flats. However, I decided that sporting snow boots to Dillard's drew less attention than sliding across the icy parking lot and landing on my rear.

Plus, as a nice surprise, most of the other ladies at the mall were sporting snow boots or Uggs or whatever. Simpatico.

Saturday night we went to a baby shower BBQ as opposed to a baby BBQ shower, which could be ugly. (Never say the order of the adjective and/or adverb does not affect the meaning of the phrase.)

The lady who hosted the Shower BBQ should earn extra jewels in heaven. Not only did she invite husbands and kids to the shower, she had them all in her house after the snow storm. Bless her heart. That's hospitality.

I was telling Mama about the BBQ when she asked me,"What kind of BBQ did they have?"

Now if you aren't from the South, you don't know the complexity of that question. In the South, we hold BBQ nearly as close as our religion and guns. (In fact, we may even cling to it.) There are types of BBQ (beef, pork, chicken) and subtypes (Memphis, Kansas City, Texas, Carolina.) It goes on an on. You could call it a BBQ Taxonomy.

The other thing you may not know is that, for us, BBQ is a noun. Not a verb.

I told Mama that at this BBQ, we had hamburgers and hot dogs because the term meant just to grill something.

And grilling, they did. In the cold. We had some of the best tasting burgers I've eaten in a while. I even asked for the recipe.

Yesterday the snow really began melting and turning to slush. It's still cold, but at least we can get out of the house.

I learned a few things from the snow storm.

I like my flip flops more than my snow boots.

When I am ninety, Hubs will do a fine job driving me to my hair appointments during a blizzard.