Good Chocolate Can Save Lives

Contact Lenses Aren't For Sissies

2010-05-20T07:55:00.000-07:00

One would think that the initial period of adjustment for contacts would be say--- 2 weeks?

HA

HA HA

HA HA HA

Not for me.

Hubby is about ready to snatch these things from my eyes and toss them in the trash. Poor guy, all he hears is "There's something in my eye!" or "Close the window, something will get in my eye!".. there really is no in-between, either something is already in my eye or about to get in my eye.

I got them because I was tired of exercising with my glasses and the bridge of my nose getting beat up and wiping under my glasses the sweat from spinning and then breaking out. Thought it would be easier. Yeah right, even the process was not easy for me.

Getting fitted for my first pair should have given me a hint of what I was in store . The girl who demonstrates how to put in and take out the lens had it on the tip of her finger and said "See? You want this bowl shape. You don't want a platter. If it's a platter, its inside out." A bowl? A platter? It barely resembled a cup and now I was supposed to play guess the dish? I asked her to show me what exactly a platter looked like- she flipped it inside out and it still looked pretty much liked it did the other way. Many attempts later, I was able to get that flimsy piece of Saran Wrap in my eye. Whew! That's over! Then they wanted me to take it out! WHY??? I JUST GOT IT IN!!! Here I am trying to get it out.. a very thin film, no wisp, of a lens. Finally its out- I am sure my eyeball is bruised. Then it has to go in again...

Insert sigh and quiet time here

When its all in -- I learn that I have to go through that every night. I thought they made these things to stay in almost forever???

Each night I struggled with that stupid lens... its too thin, my eyes are too beady I am sure I can't open my eyes that wide even if I reach over my head, kiss my elbow and grab my lashes with the opposite hand to pry open my eye--- it ain't working...

Not to mention that whole bowl/platter thing... once you get it in you find out you inserted it platter side out... man I could cuss like a trucker when I did that---

Then my daughter comes over and tries to help me. She felt sorry for me after the damn lens flipped in half like a taco shell and got lodged under my eyelid. Was it painful?

If you have to ask....

She finally said "Mom, I don't think contacts are for you." Well there you go, talk about throwing down the proverbial gauntlet. I did get some important info from her; that there ARE lenses that stay in all week and only come out for a night to get cleaned and let your eye breathe, and that her lenses say "OK" when you look through them so you know that you are putting it in the right way. And why don't I have those??? So I called the optometrist and why yes I can get those lenses but they are thicker and may be a tad uncomfortable. WHO CARES! At this point I want thicker! And no more bowl platter nonsense...

New contacts are much better.. The word "OK" is my favorite word to read. Saturday night, out they come, Sunday morning in they go.. eventually , it still takes me a bit of time.

Still some adjustments for hubby though. Last night I begged him to turn off the ceiling fan, I swear it blows dust and fuzz right in my eyes. He did and was so miserably hot. And coming back from the gym he likes the window open so the breeze can cool him off... I have to wear sunglasses so the wind doesn't blow something in my eye.

Hmmm sounds like most of the adjusting is his????

Maybe I owe him a back rub.

As long as it isn't outside in a breeze or under a fan, he's got it.

Can Too Much Salad Make You Sick?

2010-05-19T15:42:00.000-07:00

Yes, it can. You can eat so much lettuce, tomatoes, and orange peppers that you want to barf a rainbow. Of course maybe you shouldn't have had three pieces of chicken before you ate the salad. Even though it was skinless and they were drumsticks.

So it's been a couple of years since I blogged. Hmm... why did I stop? Well when you have a very funny hubby who doesn't know just how funny the things he says and does are, well it doesn't bode will for matrimonial bliss to stop him mid-sentence crying "Hold up! I gotta write that down!" I gave him a reprieve of a couple of years so fair is fair.

A good friend hired a landscaper that brought so much color into her backyard that all you can do is stand there and stare and swear you were in a botanical something or other. I gotta get this guy to do something for me I thought! Our yard is by no means a mess-- its not like we don't have someone already coming over to cut the grass and trim. Hubby doesn't even own a lawnmower, when the boys grew up and moved out, so did weed whackers and anything with the first name of John. The guy we have is dependable and does a good job; mowing. But I wanted splendor, pizazz, COLOR!

The new guy came out and looked at an area in the back yard behind my kitchen/dining area. There were vines growing everywhere, strangling the agapanthas and making perfect cover for the most dreadful of all creatures; snakes.

With a little elbow grease, and eye for color and how to combine them where they actually all go -together... the new perennial bed was born. Voila!

Then on to the front... a couple of window boxes, some more color under a maple tree, a Little Gem Magnolia, a few more invoices...

Hubby asked me today if we were "done". What is done may I ask? And are you ever really there? Isn't the journey the destination?

No funny retorts from him as of yet...

New School New Friends

2008-08-22T04:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I picked up middle granddaughter from her new school.

I got there a little early so I could meet her teacher and figure out the school's layout. She was out on the playground when I arrived. It took me awhile to find her, there were alot of little blonde kids running around and they all had ponytails. Except for one. She had long dark hair and was a little wisp of a girl. And she was firmly holding hands with another little girl, this one with a braid swinging wildly as she galloped across the schoolyard. Yup, that was my baby with the crazed braid.

Her teacher and I spoke for a few minutes before she blew the "the dead could even hear it" whistle. All the kids came running toward her and lined up perfectly chatting happily. It was great to see granddaughter so happy - last year she had a bad case of persistent hives that may have been stress induced from going to school. Not one little blemish on her face today. And this with a different school and a different district and not one child in her class that she knew before that day.

We went inside and she gathered her lunch box and book bag, said her goodbyes and we headed out. Once in the car buckled up and headed toward Starbucks (gotta get some iced tea!), she starting telling me about her day. She had so much fun! Her teacher told me she scored so well she was in the top reading group, where there were only 3 other kids. This means she can read books at her own pace and then take comprehension tests before she moves on. She liked also being asked to help the slow readers with their assignments.

We had stopped at a light when I asked her about the little brunette girl she was playing with on the playground. (Her teacher had mentioned she had just arrived here from Russia).

Granddaughter said " She's nice. But she doesn't talk like me."

"Really?" I replied. "I heard she was from Russia, she is probably more comfortable speaking Russian".

"Yeah, well I am helping her with English. Sometimes I tell her the word for things."

"That is very nice of you. That's what friends do, they help. And maybe she can teach you some Russian words."

"Yeah, I don't care how she sounds. I mean I care and I want to help her, but I really don't care. You know what I mean Nina?"

"Yes I do" I replied thinking wow---what a heart this kid has.....

"And there is this little boy there" she added

"Uh huh"

She continued, " And he has something growing on his fingertips. I like him..but I CARE about that.."

Okay -1 out of 2

lol

She's Here!

2008-08-21T14:07:00.000-07:00

Youngest granddaughter has arrived!

7 pounds 15 ounces, born 8-20-08 at 7:33 AM....

What a beauty...

All I can say is that I have fallen in love with her.....

WELCOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Home on the Range

2008-08-17T13:28:00.001-07:00

The range is in.

Had a little difficulty with the install - apparently the floor is a bigger issue than we knew. The range is tilted just a bit due to the floor being up so high and this range sitting forward farther than the old one.

Middle son tried everything he could think of to rectify the situation. He finally called me into the kitchen and asked " Just when are you getting the granite?" "Why?" I replied (knowing that hubby's granite timetable was further off in the distance than I hoped. "Well, it makes a big difference. You see the range is tilted. I can fix it by cutting the floor tile and it will sit level. Or, if you were going to get the granite soon, I would suggest you not cut the floor tile because it will bring the counter top up enough to level the range."

I am going to be cooking with tilted pans for awhile I thought.

"Let's ask your dad" I said. "He is the only one with the final answer".

So he calls hubby in and asks him the same question.

Hubby rolls his eyes.

Hubby huffs.

And he puffs.

He finally says "Why do you have to ask that in front of her? Are you guys in cahoots or something?"

"No" middle son replies " I just need to know if you want me to cut the tile. I'll do it, just give me the okay."

Hubby groans and says "You guys are working together. Your partners. I am outnumbered."

He looks at me, I stifle a smile.

"Don't cut the tile" he says and leaves the room. Quickly I might add.

I smile at middle son.

He smiles at me.

Now we know.

The granite guys are coming Wednesday with an estimate. I already have one from someplace else that was crazy high - let's hope this one is more reasonable.

I used the Easy Convect feature to cook lunch.

Holy smokes it was easy (hence the easy declaration by Kitchen Aid). You plug in what the regular cooking time and temp is and it converts it for you, it tells you when to check it and turns the oven off.

It worked perfectly.

The warming drawer warmed up the whole grain rolls and man I felt like I was cooking in a Dream Kitchen; tilt and all.

Here is a pic of the range as it is today. We still need the cabinet doors to cover the venting, and the tile backsplash will be removed and a new one installed with a potfiller.

And oh yeah, the granite.

Sooner rather than later I hear.

Vented!

2008-08-16T11:54:00.000-07:00

Here is a kitchen update.

My very talented middle son has shortened the cabinet and installed the vent hood.

Much better - no more head clunking.

Next step, range installation.

Where Did That Fox Go?

2008-08-16T11:28:00.000-07:00

Today we were in the Publix parking lot and this little kid was staring at our car. Transfixed.

It brought back memories of a night not so long ago...

If you get squeamish, skip this post.

We had went to a restaurant way out in Edgefield, South Carolina. It was late by the time we got in the car to head back home.

We are driving down a country two lane road when all of a sudden we see yellow eyes and hear "THWAP"! It was enough to send fear through your heart.

"We hit something!" I yelled.

"Yeah, but I don't know exactly" grimaces hubby.

"Was it a dog?"

"No" he replied. "I think it was a coyote or maybe a fox."

We continue down the road in silence when all of a sudden we hear thump, thump, thump.

OH GEE..... IS IT STILL THERE?

Visions of some poor thing runs through my mind, I think I am going to be sick.

Then we hear funny fumbling noises, and slapping, and things dropping off the car.

"Should we get out?" I wonder aloud.

"No. If something is alive it will sure as Hell bite me if I try to help it. We just need to get home."

We turn at the lake, taking a quick left, and something falls off our car.

Yuck.

Hubby slowly turns his head and looks at me. "Maybe we better stop at the car wash."

I vigorously nod my head.

We get into town and pull into the car wash. You know, one of those 24 hour gas stations with a car wash tunnel attached? As we pull into the car wash, we read where it's two dollars to run though the cycle. Oh and it only takes quarters.

We dig around and come up with a buck fifty. We are going to have to go inside to get more change.

Hubby backs out of the wash and turns the car around and parks in front of the store.

People stare. People stop. A woman is horrified and covers her eyes and runs into the store.

Not good.

We slowly get out.

I refuse to look.

I come back with quarters. I don't see anything on the grill.

I ask hubby " What were they staring at?"

He said "Oh there was something there alright. A fox. I had to get a plastic bag from the trunk and use it to cover my hand to pull it off of there. It was wedged pretty tight."

Thank God I am not a guy. I would have fainted if asked to do that.

We go through the wash cycle. It's silent in the car.

What was a great evening with friends turned into Roadkill Hell.

Days go by.

We forget the "incident".

Then hubby has a near collision and has to honk his horn.

It doesn't honk.

It doesn't toot.

It doesn't beep.

It warbles like a baby bird.

He takes the car in to get the grill fixed and have the horn looked at while it's there.

Seems that the fox took out quite a bit of stuff under there. Our air conditioning was pretty much gone, (it was winter and we hadn't noticed), and some other pretty important stuff was history.

So over a thousand dollars later we end the fox saga.

Until today. When the little boy looked at our car like there was a fox stuck in the grill.

I couldn't look.

Warning Signs for My Daughter

2008-08-15T04:42:00.000-07:00

My youngest grand daughter, who is soon to be my middle grand-daughter, is said by her mother, my oldest daughter, to be just like me.

How wonderful. For me.

For her I am sure she is thinking what did she possibly do to deserve this?

It's karma baby, what goes around comes around.

At first I didn't get what oldest daughter was saying, so I started looking for signs.

I get it now.

Signs that my grand daughter has been unduly influenced by me;

1. She tells her mom she likes "good chocolate". That means the $35.99 per pound chocolate that comes from the little store run by two German ladies that dote on her.

2. She likes shoes. She comes over and wears my heels around the house. The other day I picked her up from school and asked her about her teacher.. did she like her? " Oh yeah" she replied. "She's nice. And she wears cute shoes." "And she keeps her feet pedicured" I replied.(pretty scary that we notice these things, and a little wierd too)

3. She likes scrambled eggs. Her mom thinks eggs are gross. I love soft scrambled eggs and so does she. (we both eat them in front of her mom to gross her out)

4. She thinks Sephora is da bomb. We call it Nirvana around here. Nothing better than to go shopping there for some lotion or spray and carry that bag around the mall.

5. She worries about other people. (that can be very stressful for me - hope she doesn't take it to the extreme like I do at times)

6. She likes Starbucks, Well she does get the hot chocolate or the organic chocolate milk so I haven't been her coffee supplier. But I am sure I will one day.

7. The hummus at Mellow Mushroom could be our whole dinner. And we have to share it? Why I ask???

8. Earth Fare is our favorite grocery store. The lighting is pleasant, it calms us down.

9. She gets her feelings easily hurt.

10. She doesn't understand why everyone can't be friends. Why does their have to be "best" friends?

Maybe she won't do some of the stuff I did as a teenager, oldest daughter was alot calmer than I was...

For that let's hope she takes after her mom.

It Must Look Bad First to Look Good Last

2008-08-14T13:31:00.000-07:00

So I'm crazy.

Yes, I started remodeling the kitchen.

LOCK ME UP!

When we moved in here three years ago, I said "That all-white kitchen has got to go!" And I meant it. Then the opportunity came to do a major re-haul and we chose to add a pool and a pool house, who wouldn't? And we have certainly enjoyed it and it has been a great place for the family to all come together.

And the kitchen remained white. White ceramic tile, white appliances, white back splash, and white cabinets, and add the white plantation shutters, well that's alot of white.

I didn't like white before I moved here, it showed too much dirt and every little ketchup squirt or coffee dribble. But now I do appreciate it for it shows every little ketchup squirt and coffee dribble. When you have kids that are younger, who has time to clean? If I don't see it, it is easier to pretend it's not there.

Besides the chipped, ceramic tile, ( I did mention it was chipped didn't I?), I want to refinish the cabinets. Then there is the appliances. The vent hood over the range is so low you bonk your head if you try to look into a pot on a back burner. Lots of little stuff like that --- oh and that awful rectangular box light in the kitchen and the green wrought iron chandelier, you get the picture.

We are very lucky that our middle son remodels and renovates on the side. Hubby can be pretty handy but he has no patience. And if he doesn't want to do something he hurries up and does it which sometimes can create a bigger problem, aka "a mess".

Hubby gave me some money to put away for the remodel. His plan was to save it until we had enough to do the whole remodel. Like I said, that was "his" plan.

My plan is LETS GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!!!

I went out and bought a range, vent hood, and a dishwasher. Middle son is going to be the contractor. ( I think I am his boss---hee hee)

So last weekend he came and removed the old appliances. Youngest daughter got our dishwasher and Habitat for Humanity our range and vent hood. We had several days of "no cooking unless it's nuked". Gotta say I enjoyed those days since we went out to eat all of them.

Last night he installed the dishwasher. For the first time ever I had to read a dishwasher manual. There's alot of racks in there. Lots of options. I think I could wash a poodle in there.

He shortened my cabinets and is getting new doors for them made. When I arrived home from a meeting last night, I went into the kitchen to unwind and check my email. I had noticed the dishwasher and tinkered with it. Hubby called out to me about what I thought about the cabinets. I had not even noticed them. He doesn't get why that is a big compliment to middle son. If I can walk into my kitchen and pass right by a cabinet that has been shortened a good half a foot and not notice it, then it looks good! Nothing drew my attention to it and made my breath catch and my heart to flutter.

Tonight he is coming back to install the range.

We're going out to eat.

Hmmm ---maybe I should have said the range was on back order?

Tinkerbell's in the House

2008-08-04T04:08:00.001-07:00

Has this ever happened to you; someone is sitting in the bathroom and yells out, "We're out of paper in here?"

It does?

Well that never happens in our house.

For we have fairies.

We have toilet paper fairies that not only replenish rolls, but makes sure that there is a back-up roll on the lid.

The other day I asked hubby if he would get some more toilet paper for the bathroom.

He asked, "Where do we keep it?"

Huh? We have lived in this house for over three years and he doesn't know where the toilet paper is stored?

I asked him that question, more or less, in the same way.

"I've never had to get toilet paper, the fairy always brings it. So how would I know where it is?"

"What fairy?"

"You know, the toilet paper fairy?"

"The toilet paper fairy?"

"Yes, she's friends with the clean laundry fairy, the always made Crystal Light fairy, the hang up my pants fairy and my snacks for the office fairy."

"You got a helpful little fairy posse there for you Mister."

"Yes, except I really need to talk to that picks up the glass as soon as I set it down fairy. She's an overachiever."

Okay - it's cute.... I shake my head and keep on truckin'

Saturday night we are at a friends house and I walk inside to refresh my drink. The guys are all sitting in the kitchen. Was it cooler in there? Maybe. But the next round of home made pizzas were about to come out of the oven... I think they were there to get first dibs.

They are talking abut something that leads me to believe that they too have fairies roaming their abodes.

So I ask...

Yes I did...

And there were three of them, and just one of me, and hubby was on their side of the bar.. I knew I was outnumbered, but yet I ventured forward unaware of the potential danger ahead.

I asked friend number one "Do you know where the toilet paper is kept in your house?"

"He said "Why would I know that?"

Friend number two added in quickly , they stick together, " I don't know where it is either. It just appears."

"So if there was an emergency you wouldn't know where to go to get some more toilet paper?"

"Nope" they both replied.

Hubby joins in and says "See? They have fairies at their house too that does things."

"I wish I had a fairy" I grumble.

"You do," one replied. "It's called a paycheck fairy."

Gotta love 'em.

(Does this happen in your house too? Let me know if there is a larger fairy population than I originally estimated)

Turn the Light on Will Ya'

2008-08-02T04:02:00.000-07:00

Three years ago we delved into the world of salt water fish'ism.

We bought a 60 gallon tank and set it up in our front room. When we bought it, we didn't have available to us all the newer fangled models with the filters and skimmers stowed under the tank, ours was hanging off the back of the tank in plain view. (think small town thus not many aquariums stores; as in one.)

During the time we've had the tank, we've only had two occasions of fish mortality. One, was when we went to Italy and there was a power failure, and the other time was a few months ago when two fish died mysteriously in the dead of the night days just days apart.

That left us with a tang, a big fat ole tomato clownfish named Ernie (for Ernest Borgnine), a scooter blenny and some other fish that hides in the crevices of the live rock. It was time to get a couple of replacements.

Off we go to the relatively new aquarium shop. WOW! What selections! What pretty fish! Hey, wait! Do you see these tanks? All the stuff sits UNDER here????

We go in for a fish and come out lots of dollar$ later with a new tank to be installed that night.

I would say they saw us coming but this purchase was way too overdue for us to be "marks".

The old tank, and hubby would disagree with me, looked like something you would see in a college dorm room or in some teenager's room.

We thought it was easy to clean; once a month we would crank up the music and for an hour both get cracking, I scrubbed down filters and pumps even using toothbrushes to get out every speck of algae or waste.

Cleaning this new tank?

Pulling out two sponges and rinsing them and rinsing a plastic cup. That's it for me. Hubby still has water to change and algae to scrape off the sides but I can do my part in about 5 minutes and sit back and watch him. (probably won't happen but a girl can dream). But he doesn't have to disconnect everything from the tank so I can clean it so it should save him at least half the time he would've spent.

So the guy comes over to install the new tank.

About a couple of hours before I had asked hubby to go ahead and find the spotlight that we would need in the front room, more of an office, since the lighting in there isn't the most illuminating. He pooh poohed me.

Okay.

The guy and hubby starts working and more light is definitely needed. Hubby goes to get the spotlight.

He can't find it.

Deja vue I tell ya'.

"Where did you move the spotlight?" he asks me.

"I didn't touch it" I replied.

"You must have, it's not in the garage."

"Did you look on the shelf?"

"Yes, oh wait a minute, maybe it is in the pool house." Off he goes to search in there.

Our youngest daughter had come over and she was watching and hearing this with a look of amusement on her face. "Dad can't find the spotlight?" she asks.

"Nope, he says I moved it."

"Why would you want a spotlight?"

" I have no clue. But apparently there is some reason he thinks I would."

He comes back in the house and says " Okay, where is it? You told me to look for it before he got here. Is this some sort of joke?"

"No" I replied, "It is not a joke. I knew you probably didn't know where it was. Did you look on the shelf by the garage fridge?"

"Yes, I looked there. I looked everywhere. It's not there. I bet oldest daughter has it!"

'Why would she have it?"

"She might have needed it and took it and forgot to bring it back. Remember the shop vac?"

I looked at him strangely and said " All of our girls have used the shop vac."

"Yes, but she kept it the longest."

"No, youngest daughter did but that has nothing to do with a spotlight."

"Give me her cell phone number, I'm calling her."

"She's going to think you are nuts and it's 9 o'clock at night".

"Just give me the number."

The conversation goes like this;

"Hello.. do you have my spotlight?" he asks her.

"Well I don"t know, maybe to paint at night. I don't know what for, you just take stuff, remember the shop vac? "

The conversation ends there - no at night spotlight painting being done by her.

Youngest daughter says "Dad, you want me to look for it?"

He sighs and says "You won't find it. I looked everywhere. Either your mother moved it and can't remember where it is or worse yet, can't remember that she even moved it, or one of you kids has it."

"I'll just have a look anyway" she calmly replied.

Not a minute later we hear from the garage, "What will you give me if I find it?"

"WHERE WAS IT?" he jumps up and yells.

In she comes holding the spotlight.

"Dad, it was right on the shelf in the garage."

"Did you put it back?" he looks straight at me.

"No honey." I say as he is plugging it in.

Youngest daughter and I look at each other and smile.

He thinks he can hear too.

American Girls Just Want To Have Fun

2008-07-31T06:19:00.000-07:00

Last week the granddaughters and I went to Atlanta to join some friends and their girls for an "American Girl" day. Shopping, lunch at the American Bistro, and the new Kit Kitteredge movie was our all day excursion.

We arrived the night before and left the day after so my friend was more than generous offering us all lodging at her house for both nights. Maybe she knew I'd bring wine.

Driving up was full of anticipation; the girls singing to EVERY song on the Disney channel and then requesting me to play Miley Cyrus; youngest granddaughter brought a CD. In pops the CD and suddenly I am flooded with requests. "Play number 4!" "No, play number 12!" "I want 4!". They were reading the back of the CD cover and yes, once again, knew all the songs. I suggested we take turns; Youngest brought the CD so she goes first, then the oldest. The first song she picks is Miley's remake of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". They are in the back seat singing and laughing and occasionally yelling "GIRLS RULE!" and "ROAD TRIP!". It's a madhouse back there. Now it's oldest granddaughter's turn she chooses.... the same song! It went like that for awhile.

I wish I had posted during the trip, with my advanced age and decreasing short term memory, I forget things until about two weeks later, then it becomes a long term memory and I can retrieve it.

The girls and I shared a futon at night. It was quite comfortable. I was expecting to be jabbed and poked during the night but they were so wiped out each day that they just fell asleep and barely moved. And one interesting note, they both loved "The Deadliest Catch". That show appeals to everyone... just how do they stay ON the boat?

One night though I awoke in the middle of the night to find youngest granddaughter's face about two inches above mine, peering down at me. "Hello" I said. "Hello" she replied. Satisfied it was me, she rolled over and went back to sleep. Sort of freaked me out.

The girls looked like little white China dolls. All four of them were dressed alike in sapphire blue mandarin collared pajamas. Even their dolls had matching pjs! Our friend from North Carolina bought each of them a set - they were the hit for pictures and I think created a sense of girl unity on the night that they all were decked out in them.

I have figured out what oldest granddaughter will be when she grows up; a dentist. She was the one who brushed her teeth without prodding. And she flossed. And she rinsed with this Smart Rinse product. Maybe I will get her a Water Pik for Christmas, bet she'll love it.

Before we left, I made up some "rules for the road". Each girls were given the rules prior to the first mile logged.

The rules were as follows;

Be nice to everyone in our group
No screaming
Share
You don’t have to eat something you don’t like but no one is making something special just for you – we eat as a group of friends
If you order it, you eat it
One doll and one outfit each or one doll and one pet. No whining about this ----
Play
Tell jokes
Laugh
Love each other

Funny how they focused on "if you order it - you eat it".

When we were at the Bistro for lunch, they gave us three choices, an appetizer, an entree, and a side. Youngest granddaughter was easy, pretzel bread, chicken strips, and curly fries. All oldest granddaughter wanted was macaroni and cheese. So I went ahead and ordered her that along with the pretzel bread (which was warm and chewy and dipped in gooey cheese - right up her alley). When the waitress brought it she said "I didn't order that!" I replied "No, but I figured you'd like it and we have to wait a bit for your macaroni and cheese." Youngest granddaughter listening in on this exchange said "If you didn't order it, you don't have to eat it".

Thanks dear.

The pic above was taken with the pretzel bread... both were demolished - they were hungry!

She finally did it eat once she saw others at the table chowing down enjoying theirs. I will say once she tries something, she usually likes it.

I have watched them with their families and they are a bit more wide open with mom and dad than with me. I think they just aren't sure how I will react and that keeps them in line somewhat.

On the way home they asked to stop for lunch. I gave them a choice either a fancy place or we could go to Mc Donalds. They wanted to hear about the fancy place. I told them about The Blue Willow Inn, where we would eat on blue glass plates which they would carry themselves and pick out their own lunch, a dessert table that had AT LEAST seven or eight desserts on it plus a big ole bowl of freshly whipped cream, and the best sweet tea you would ever drink. They picked the fancy place over a Happy Meal! YEAH!

They even took in their new American Girl dolls with them. I let them get whatever they wanted to eat and when they were ready for dessert they could pick out whatever AND go back for seconds. See grandmas are fun.

Youngest granddaughter lost her first tooth there too! She had a wiggly one and was chomping down on an ear of corn when it must have pulled because she set it down and said " I think my tooth is falling out!". I felt it and by golly it was looser! She hesitantly took another bite of corn and then set it down "I just can't do it" she exclaimed. "It's okay" I assured her. Then I looked at oldest granddaughter...hmmmm--- she has had a loose tooth for awhile now that maybe, just maybe I could get it to budge by enticing her to eat some corn on the cob. "Hey, why don't you eat some corn?"

"NO WAY!" she said.

She was on to me.

As we were eating dessert, the tooth came out. Actually youngest granddaughter just felt it move when she ate her cheesecake and reached in her mouth and plucked it out.

I missed alot when my own children were little; football games, band recitals, even being there when they were sick, all those things I regret.

Grandchildren is God's way of giving you a second chance.

And I am taking it and making the most of it.

It's Just a Piece of Cheese

2008-07-31T03:08:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last night that hubby had divided our fridge into two separate areas. He had made a divider with duct tape for one shelf.

When I awoke this morning I told him about the dream, shaking my head about how silly something like that would be.

He said "I can see it happening".

I stared at the shape in the dark that was most likely him and replied "You have got to be kidding. Did you hear me? You DUCT TAPED the shelf to indicate sides; yours and mine".

"Yeah, well why did I do it?"

"It had to do with cheese. You wanted some cheese and I wouldn't buy it so you went out and got some and put it on your "side"."

"Yeah, like I said, I can see that happening."

"How would that happen? We are talking cheese."

"Well, if you wouldn't buy me any cheese, and I went out and made a special trip for cheese, then it would be my cheese."

"Honey, are you telling me you wouldn't give me a slice of cheese?"

"Why would you want the cheese? You said no to buying the cheese. I went out and got the cheese so it's my cheese."

"And I couldn't have a slice of cheese. A single. A Kraft single. I couldn't have a Kraft single?"

"Well it's technically my cheese to do with as I please. But we could work out a deal."

He winked.

Men.

All they think about is cheese.

When the Planets Align

2008-07-20T04:50:00.000-07:00

There are just days when you can't catch a break no matter what you do.

When I worked for Alltel we used to shake our heads when we had a customer that entered "The Customer Service Twilight Zone". Some poor soul who had everything go wrong with their phone and their billing - they just stumbled in the zone through no fault of their own.

If we don't have little things go wrong from time to time, they become bottle necked and all shoot out at once when the pressure forces an explosion.

That happened to hubby and I Saturday night when we went on a dinner and a movie date.

Actually, a movie and then dinner because a later show would have released too late for dinner at an acceptable hour and getting home before we turn into a pumpkin and mice.

So we decide to go see "The Dark Knight".

I was a little freaked out about seeing it since Heath Ledger had died right after filming but hubby said "You like Cary Grant movies don't you?" He had a point so off we went.

What a good flick -

About 10 minutes from the end, the screen starts going "erp! brechhh! phtttttt!" and the movie stopped. What an uproar! It was a matinee and sold out! People were not happy. It took several minutes to get someone to let us know what was going on other than the obvious; no movie.

A little girl ,no more than 4 foot nothing ,comes in and announces " It will be 7 minutes before the show resumes." I remember seeing all those big, brawny teenage guys out there taking tickets., they sent a girl in to tell us. Chickens.

How can you be irritated at a little slip of a thing?

So the movie starts back up from where we left off and when it's over we go get something to eat.

"You pick." I say to hubby.

"Are you sure?" he replies, surprised to say the least.

"Sure, you pick the restaurant. I will be happy with where ever you choose"

"Yeah right" he mumbles.

So off we go.

I should have guessed.

Pizza and beer.

So we get to the Pizza Joint.

I really hate getting out of the car. It was hot out there, baking hot. 101 degrees at 7 PM in the evening. Someone hand me a hose.

We go inside. Hubby heads for the bathroom. He drank the large Diet Coke pretty much by himself and I feel sorry for anyway blocking his way.

The hostess leads me to a table. It sure is hot in here.

She is abut to slap down the menus and run off when I ask her "Is your AC broke?"

"Uh-huh" she replies and rushes off.

Lovely, just lovely.

I wait for hubby sandwiched between two tables with kids; one table hasn't gotten their food yet and they look hot and a little mean and the other table the kids are out with just dad who is oblivious that his toddler is aiming pepperoni from his pizza at my shoe.

Hubby returns looking relieved and I bolt to the bathroom "My turn!"

I hang out in there for a little longer than necessary for there is an open window in there and it is actually tolerable. I finally go back to the table and sit down banging my knee on the table as I try to get in the booth.

Hubby looks at me, " Do you want to go?" he asks.

"Yes"

"Alright let's go".

Back in the car I say "Pizza and beer was a great idea. Let's go downtown and eat at Mellow Mushroom".

"It's too far, and I thought I was picking."

I sit there silently. A couple of lights later we are pulling into Red Robin's parking lot.

OH NO I say to myself. Red Robin has pretty good burgers but they have yet to get my order right even once and I have been there at least 10 times. They've even given me a $25.00 gift certificate for poor customer service.

"Please" I pray, "just this time get an order straight".

Hostess takes us to a booth and I notice the seats are wet. I am wearing white pants, this won't do. I ask her if she can get something to dry them off with and she goes off mumbling something about busboys.

We're seated with menus and our waiter comes over. He was a nice guy but little did he realize that we sucked him up in the Twilight Zone by sitting in his area.

He takes our drink order; Bass for hubby and Diet Coke for me.

We start to cool down and relax.

He comes back for our order. We're not ready, Hubby had forgotten his reading glasses and I was trying to use my sunglasses to read the menu while he had on mine. Waiter goes and comes back. We're ready this time. Hubby orders a cheeseburger and I order a Santa Fe burger with melon instead of fries.

Where's our drinks?

I look at hubby and say "You know, they have never gotten an order right for me. Ever."

He looks at me and says "If they say they are out of beer or cheese, I'm outta here".

We wait for the drinks.

My Diet Coke arrives.

The waiter goes off looking for the beer.

We wait.

The manager comes to our table.

"I'm sorry Sir," he starts off. ( I start twitching)

"We're out of Bass."

"You're out of Bass?" hubby is incredulous.

"Yes, How about a Guiness?"

"That's fine".

Needless to say we sat there anticipating the worst. But all that happened was I got melon with my fries.

I can live with that.

But Red Robin, you are 0/11 so far.

Project Kitchen

2008-07-18T08:45:00.000-07:00

You know how they say you should never build a home with your spouse unless you are ready to test, really test, your marriage?

I totally get that.

Not that hubby would ever find himself living the single life and partying like a rock star, I would kill him first.

He'd be out of control on his own.

Plus we, well, me, has this thing; I want a 50 year anniversary party. I'm putting all our kids on alert right now, when we hit 50 years of togetherness, a big shin ding needs to be organized by you offspring. That would be 31 years from now - plenty of fair warning. I'd start getting a plan together at year 48 if I were you guys. Keep in mind our friends will be old and may need a ride back to the "home" and you might have some erhhh, deletions. (if you know what I mean)

Why do they think I give dad all those vitamins and tea concoctions?? I want a party!!!

Two little old people holding hands and eating cake and getting hugs from everyone. Yup, sounds like heaven to me. Of course I may have Alzheimer's and not know anyone there, so bring pictures and wear name tags and be ready to explain to me how we are related.

But back to the kitchen.

We are ready to start taking the first steps toward the renovation. It's more like I'm ready, hubby would rather save every penny first and then start the project. That would be one massive project in my book, I like doing it in stages. Plus, once we get started we will be so gung-ho to get it done that we will do everything we can to conserve and have "kitchen money".

Ever hear the saying about how do you eat an elephant? You eat it one piece at a time.

That's like this kitchen, looking at it in stages makes it not so daunting to me.

But I drive my beloved crazy.

I am not logical he says.

I don't have a plan he says.

I can not visualize spatial relationships. Well he has me there...

But I am logical, to me anyway, and I do have a plan, but just not HIS plan.

To give you an example at how we differ from one another it's best to talk food. I can read a recipe and just by seeing the ingredients and how's it prepared, know how it will taste and whether I will like it or not.

Him?

"All those ingredients sound like a salad"

or

"What's capers?"

or

"Why am I reading this again? I'm not cooking it am I?"

So, when it comes to measuring a cabinet to see if a wine chiller will fit, it's well within my scope of understanding to make comments such as;

"Why do you have to measure from the inside?"

or

"Do you add in the inches from the tape measure itself?"

or

"What do they mean by "depth"? We already measured up to down."

I can see colors in my head and match things without having a sample in my hand.

He can find places using a map. That's pretty impressive to me, I find things by saying "turn right at the fist BP station by the store that sells those pretty baskets".

So I will have to let you know how this project goes...

I dragged our middle son into the fray. He renovates and remodels and builds and fixes and does all the stuff that hubby and I don't know how to do. I would probably run him off if we did everything at once. It's better to deal with me in "doses" when it comes to something like this, no need to get the full obsessive personality at one time.

He is so careful too - he painted the upstairs guest room for me and it is a work of art. He even helped with choosing the right shade. He sure has grown up since that Robin Egg Blue color he picked for his bedroom when he was 10. Woo boy howdy - talk about bright! I thought Peter Cottontail would hop on down the bunny trail in there. It looked like an Easter egg.

I stopped at the tile store today and have a sample of the mosaic tiles that I want to use for our back splash. I also have the Sherwin Williams color wheel with the color picked out for the walls.

Don't think I will show it to him just yet.

It would look like a salad.

Penmanship is Important

2008-07-15T05:29:00.001-07:00

Lately hubby and I have been feeling our age. My hips bother me and the muscles tighten and actually makes one leg longer than the other and he just experienced a extremely debilitating bout of arthritis in his lower back.

With all the anti-inflams, pain pills, and Ben Gay heat wraps littering our nightstands coupled with morning stretching sessions, one would think we were tottering near the edge of eldercare.

The last couple of days we have been pretty much pain free. It doesn't hurt when we sleep. (truly a horrible thing)

This morning he let me sleep a little later, it is my birthday after all.

I awoke to two cards propped on my laptop. (he KNOWS where I will easily find them)

Hubby always gives me two birthday cards for my birthday, one serious and heartfelt, and the other funny. This year was a little different, both were serious.

The first one was an "I love you" card, very sweet.

The next one was a booklet.

It had a lot of pages and

many words were underlined.

One page was soothing pastels and the next page increasingly pink shades of pink. Quite vibrant actually.

That was the passion page.

It said ".....and the passion we know"

He underlined passion and added an exclamation mark.

My hubby is a romantic. He really is.

I was swooning with his special punctuation and his emphasized verbiage.

The rest of the passion page read like this;

"when our bodies meet as one".

So it said in it's entirety, "and the passion we know when our bodies meet as one...."

Pretty bodice ripping for American Greetings.

What confused me was his comment under the last line.

He wrote, " Not as much as we used to but we're careful when we do".

Huh?

OH!!!

He must mean because of the arthritis and tight hip flexors!

I said to him with warmth and concern "It's hard to be "romantic" when you hurt. I understand. As we feel better we won't have to be careful not to hurt something".

He glanced up from the morning paper and said "What are you talking about?"

I replied, "I understand how you feel. But you really don't have to be careful with me, it's not like I am going to break."

"Though I appreciate the concern" I quickly added.

"I have no clue what you're talking about." he said. "Have you had your coffee yet?"

"Yes, I've had my coffee. It's right here on the card! You said we need to be careful when we "do".

"I did not."

"Yes. You did."

"Give me that card".

He takes the card and reads it.

He hands me the card.

"It CLEARLY says "not as much as we used to but wonderful when we do".

oh..

I swear it looks like careful....

So Another Birthday

2008-07-12T04:44:00.001-07:00

My birthday is next week. I am going to be 47.

You did the math in your head didn't you? Three years from 50.

I think I'm good with that, for what exactly would the alternative be???

I buy different stuff these days. This last year I have been seduced more by advertising that claims to reduce, tighten, erase, smooth, and uplift. Those words make me reach for my wallet.

And cereal too.

My Cheerios seem so "old school". It may tout it reduces cholesterol but does it help with my calcium? digestion? immunity?, and how many anti-oxidants does it contain?

My oatmeal, the old fashioned cook on the stove kind, is experiencing a rebirth. It is very helpful for regularity (get used to that word for those of you under 40) and reduces cholesterol. My usual morning breakfast is oatmeal with bling. Bling is all the goodies I toss in; cinnamon, blueberries, flax meal, and a teaspoon of sugar in the raw.

Doesn't that sound hippie-ish? Sugar in the raw. Naked sugar.

Going out requires me to put stuff under my eyes, those circles and puffy pads aren't going anywhere by themselves ya' know. A Sephora finally opened here and I was there opening day with a big ole grin on my face. Found some eye brightener and some stuff for my jowls. It is lotion that tightens your face.. watch out trying to smile though. It's called "Thinny Thin Chin". Now doesn't that make you think of maybe it has to do something with hair?

Last night we went out to meet friends for dinner. I threw on a dress and sandals but didn't have time to redo my face to add my lotions and potions. But I did had time to shave my legs.

As I am shaving my legs, hubby comes over to me and says, " What are you doing?"

"Shaving my legs" I replied. Duh

"Why are you doing that?" he asks

"Because they need to be". I still am responding in a nice tone, no irritation reflecting in my voice.

"Well, we are just going out to dinner with them, it's not a sleepover" he responds.

Huh?? Apparently I am taking too long.

It's all the prep work these days. Somedays I think "OMG - I look so tired!" and I need to go to the store so I throw on work out clothes and pretend I have been working out. I mean, hey, this is coming from a woman who has not read a book called the "Hot Flash Club" because she didn't want anyone seeing the title, so the book has been in the closet untouched for over a year!

I did hit a goldmine with hubby. And I know it.

One day I was complaing about getting and looking older and he told me; "Honey, as you get older, my eyes get older, so you still look the same to me".

Jowls and all I hope.

Leave a Message After the Beep

2008-07-03T06:00:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a meeting to attend so I was gone for most of the evening. It was late, a little after 10, when I returned and hubby was already in bed snoozing.

A few minutes later, I too was asleep.

This morning I got up and checked my email. It's part of my morning routine, like getting coffee and taking the dog out.

There was an email in my inbox that just plain says it all. It shows that women can spot the limitations of men in regards to taking and delivering messages.

1. Writing the message down accurately is not going to happen.

2. Saying "Sue called", may even be too much to remember.

3. Saying "Someone called you" might happen.

4. Saying nothing is probably more like it.

So when a friend of mine called and had some questions about color choices for a bowl set that I ordered, she immediately spotted that number four was the most likely occurrence in our home.

Her email to me was thus;

Hi. I tried calling this evening, but you weren't home . . . your husband and I agreed that leaving a message via email was better than leaving one with him :-)

She's pyschic.

Or just married herself.

So I ask him... "Honey, did anyone call me last night?"

He looks at me for a moment and then says, "Yeah, some lady about some bowl thing."

"I know, she sent me an email saying she thought it was best not to leave a message with you. Now why would she do that? What did you say on the phone?"

"Well, she gave me her name and I didn't recognize it, I still don't know who she was, and then she started rattling off stuff about bowl colors and when she was done she asked if I understood."

"And then what did you say?" I asked.

"At first I didn't say anything, it didn't make any sense to me. So I just said okaaaaay. It was all mumbo-jumbo to me."

"So she told you she would just email me?"

He replied, " Yeah, she said "Maybe I better email her" and I thought that was a good idea and told her okay why don't you do that?"

He looked at me for a minute and said "Why what's the problem? You got the message didn't you?"

Well, he's right.

Can I have your card???

2008-07-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

I don't get how I made it to 46, almost 47, without having at least 4 or 5 annual doctor appointments a year.

The last couple of years I have accrued more doctors that a new practice.

And thank God for Outlook - I can't even remember to write down checks in the register and had to go to duplicate checks. How can anyone expect me to remember an appointment???

Give me a card.

For my multitude of doctors, I have a multitude of cards.

My chiropractor gives me a card.

My eye doctor gives me a card.

My dermatologist gives me a card.

My orthopedist gives me a card.

My internist gives me a card.

My back doc gives me a card.

My ob/gyn gives me a card. (feels silly even typing the "ob" part anymore - if you ask hubby it should be the meno/gyn doc.)

Oh! I forgot the dentist and the orthodontist. Yes I have both.

If you have a pain or a funny looking mole, call me, I know a doctor.

And cards are good for other appointments.

Cards from my massage therapist, cards from my hairdresser, cards for this and that.

What I need to do is make up little appointment cards and hand them out to all my friends so I will never miss another lunch or dinner. (which I did recently to my deep and utter embarrassment)

I keep cards from plumbers, electricians, painters, gardeners, decorators, anyone I might need someday for something. I have a box of cards in my closet and a drawerful upstairs. I really need one of those card albums so I can arrange them. (hmm if any of our children is reading this what a wonderful idea for a gift!)

I even bought cards with our name on it so that I can slip them in gifts.

Cards, cards, cards... a most wonderful thing.

Even Squirrels

2008-06-25T14:23:00.001-07:00

Last night we had a lovely time. Friends came over for dinner, we drank a little vino, and enjoyed good conversation.

When everyone left, I started to tidy up while hubby took Bailie, our little white dog, and went to the bedroom to lay down and watch TV.

Fine by me. I could get more done that way.

Finally I'm ready to go to bed. I walk into our bedroom and what a cute picture; Bailie is snuggling next to hubby, curled up by his chest. Precious.

It's late and she hasn't been out for her "last time" potty break, so I say to her "Let's go outside and go potty". Funny how I include myself in that activity.

I reach for her.

She growls.

I draw back in disbelief.

Hubby looks surprised.

I reach again.

She growls again.

What is up with her????

I just reach out and pick her up saying, "NO! You are going outside and going potty right now!".

She goes out, does her stuff, comes back in, back on the bed snuggling with hubby in no time flat.

Hubby cuddles her.

I lay down and watch TV for a bit, O'Rielly is going to be on for his second go around, it's almost 11 o'clock.

As I am ready to drift off, hubby says. " This little dog has just made me love all animals."

"Okay honey" I think. The gentler softer side is coming out, nothing like a good Cabernet to make you feel all warm and gooey.

I watch Greta say goodnight and turn it over to Bill.

"Even squirrels" he says

"What? What did you say?" I ask

"I said she has changed my mind even about squirrels. I don't want to squish them anymore"

Okay, let me explain. He didn't really want to squish squirrels per se...just shock them a bit.

It all stems from a rather pesky rodent that outwitted every manufacturer of squirrel-proof bird feeders.

Hubby tried funnels on the poles that held up the bird feeders. Rocky the squirrel would bypass the whole funnel road block by finding a bush or tree limb that he could use to jump over to the feeder. Hubby sawed off tree limbs, it sounded like we were filming "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" in our backyard. No tree limbs? That didn't bother Rocky. He just climbed higher on the tree and then sailed down, like a flying southern squirrel. Can you see his goggles as you read this??

Hubby tried those bird feeders that flip over when a squirrel climbs on it. Somehow Rocky figured out how to stay underneath and get to the seed, while a squirrel cousin flipped it over.

We would see him scaling the fence heading for our feeders and hubby would jump up out of his chair and yell, "Here he comes!".

It was like a war zone.

The kids pooled their money on Father's Day and bought him a zapping bird feeder; it was supposed to deliver a small but effective electrical shock to squirrels. They had seen it at a local bird and seed store and knew that was the ticket for Dad.

Hubby assembles it, and gets the battery in and hangs it up. The theory is that a bird is small enough to land on the perch and can get to the seed without getting zapped. The squirrel on the other hand is too big for the perch and will also have to be on a metal plate and when he touches the metal plate and the perch --- ZAP! He gets a good jolt.

We lie in wait for Rocky.

Nothing.

The next day we wait for him.

Nothing.

Wait! Here he comes scampering down the fence rail.

He comes to the new feeder.

He looks at it, watching the birds.

He must be thinking "What have they come up with now?"

He approaches it.

We start getting excited.

This is finally it! Our birds will eat in peace! No more squirrels stealing all the seeds!

Rocky gets on the plate, NEVER TOUCHING THE PERCH, eats his fill and scampers off.

So you see... it is an amazing thing that Bailie has done. Hubby feels compassionate to all animals now.

Even the squirrels.

Radar Man

2008-06-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

So today all the kids came over to go swimming.

It was hot and muggy, and truthfully, all I could think about during church was floating on my new floaty in the pool. So much for focusing on the homily.

Kids all arrive and we eat first, (this family has its priorities). After lunch, we get ready for some water volleyball and then we hear it.... sirens going off.

EEEEEEEEEYAAAA EEEEEEEYAAAA

We live next to a golf course and the hole closest to us has one of the lightning sirens. If lightening strikes within 5 miles from us, it sounds. Gives us plenty of time to get out of the water before getting fried like pot stickers, or some sort of fried meat.

Hubby goes into his office to emerge with a proclamation, "It will be over in 18 minutes." It is 1:22 , so we figure he calculated when it would pass over us.

He goes back inside and time passes, kids are shooting the breeze, eating dessert now.

1:40 comes and it's still raining. It looks like it is getting worse.

Youngest daughter goes inside to ask him what's going on. "Isn't it supposed to be clear by now?" she wonders aloud.

His reply is that a small cell has sprung up but give it 5, maybe 10 minutes, and we will be happily splashing.

So we wait it out.

Outside.

Under umbrellas, in the pool house, and under towels.

Then it hits.

HAIL.

Where did this come from???

It's bouncing off the tables and chairs. I am scared to come out from under the big umbrella. Someone could get hurt out there. The kids under towels and around the table make a dash for the pool house. Youngest granddaughter screams.

"What's happening???" she wails.

Youngest daughter is inside. Apparently she is asking her dad for a weather update because she comes back to the door and yells out into the hail storm, "He says it will pass over in a few minutes."

Do you think we felt comfortable with that prediction?

Where is he anyway? Why isn't HE out here if it is almost over?

The hail is getting worse. I need to either dash to the already full pool house, or inside. Can't do it, one could get cut out there. Cut bad.

It finally dies down. Granddaughter runs inside and says "I'm not coming out! I'm going to play with my kitty cats." Smart kid.

The pool house crowd is safe and happy. There's a bathroom and a beer fridge in there. And did I mention it has A/C?

It slows to a drizzle and I head inside. Where is he? He is by the computer and I ask him "So when is it going to stop raining?"

He shakes his head and says, "In about 8 minutes. This should be the last cell going over us right now. They just kept popping up."

hmmm It does seem calmer out there.

But then again...

I dry off and go lay down and read for awhile.

The rain starts up again, it's pounding. The kids are all inside by now. They are watching "Hairspray" on TV.

It still is raining.

Finally everyone starts to go home. The day is a washout. Literally.

Hubby says " If y'all can wait a few more minutes this should pass right over us."

They keep on trudging to their cars. Good bye waves, kisses, and hugs are exchanged.

They all leave except for a few who are waiting on youngest granddaughter who doesn't want to go.

"Papa said it's going to stop" she cries. " I want to stay and play in the pool with Papa!"

I look at her and say "Come on, let's get you dressed so you can go home."

Where is hubby???

He is outside.

In the pool.

Sun is shining.

Birds are chirping.

It's hot and after rain muggy.

He yells out "Come on in! I told you it was going to blow over."

Youngest granddaughter yelps in glee and looks at me and says "See??? Papa is always right!"

I suppose so.

Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

The Wonderful Power of Chili

2008-06-18T02:43:00.000-07:00

Last night we went over a friend's house for dinner. I was looking forward to it because anything she makes is always fabulous.

She had made a white bean chili with andouille sausage and chunks of chicken simmered in the crock pot. Delish.

Whenever we eat chili with friends that possibly might have not heard the story, hubby tells the tale of the stripper and the chili.

I always find it amazing that he even remembers that evening, apparently it made quite the impression.

It goes like this....

When we were first married, within the first year, he was invited to a bachelor's party. He says I didn't know the guy that invited him well enough to have made a judgement call on what kind of event it was going to be, oh but I surely did.

This guy was an idiot.

He went around TELLING people he was going to have a "first-rate" party with strippers and everything. (who knows what the "everything" referred to!).

Well my poor innocent little hubby didn't need to go to something like that and I distinctly remember asking him to politely decline the invite.

I am sure it was because he didn't want to hurt this fellow's feelings that he refused.

Or else he was trying to establish his dominance early on in the marriage.

Something like that anyway.

"Okay" I thought.

"Fine" I thought.

"Whatever" I thought.

"Oh he'll go alright" I muttered.

So, for dinner the night of the party, I cooked for him. How can you go to a party where there most likely will be alcohol without any food in your tummy? You could get sick right? I made a big ole pot of chili. Spicy chili. Lots of beans. Lots of spices. Toss in some onions. Add some green peppers. He ate a bowlful, then another. I sat back and smiled, from the joy of seeing him enjoying the fruit of my labors, I am sure.

He goes to the party.

He comes home a couple of hours later, before the "entertainment" starts.

His stomach hurts.

He rushes to the bathroom.

"I shouldn't have eaten all that chili!" he wails.

I smile.

I hear baked beans are a blast.

This Line is Shorter

2008-06-15T04:44:00.001-07:00

So we go to Sam's yesterday. That conjures up a picture in your head without typing another word; long lines, crowded aisles, people who don't have their sh*t together when it is time to pay, or people whose cell phone rings as they are being checked out and they answer it! ARGHHHH

One day I may get shot. Or beat up. I swear I am going to let someone hold it for being so blasted rude to others. It just seems it's an "all about me" or an "I'm more important than everyone else in the world" mentality.

We go to Sam's because they have chaise lounges for our patio at a good price. We already have a row of lounge chairs out there for when all our kids come over, and yet hubby wants more. I get it, but am thankful they are stack able. It's beginning to really look like a resort, more than a backyard.

Hubby had to get a flatbed to cart the chairs around the store. You should have seen him taking the corners, he almost took out a few folks.

We get everything we need, and more, and head over to the line. Every line had more than three people in it except one, it had only two. One lady was paying and another lady, though her cart was full, looked alert. It's really important you get behind an alert person at Sam's or you could be there all day. Hubby wanted the line over from this line, I said "No, let's get in line over here" motioning to the shorter line.

He maneuvers the flatbed over a line.

The lady that is checking out? Well she gets her receipt then starts questioning some of the prices.

The other line edges forward.

The cashier calls for a manager. Everyone waits.

The other line edges forward.

The manager comes over and discusses it with the lady. Lady leaves, next person in line please.

The alert lady, who has a full cart, starts being checked out, her phone rings and she doesn't help the cashier move her items over.

The other line edges up. We would have been being checked out by this time if we had been in the other line.

Finally, all the items are scanned, and it's time to pay. What's this? She pulls out a checkbook!

She writes the check.

The other line moves forward, we would have been walking to our car by now.

The cashier calls for a manager.

"What's the holdup?" asks the ex-alert lady.

"We have to call for manager approval for anything over $300." replies the cashier.

"For goodness sake! Why didn't you tell me that?" ex-alert lady exclaims.

We wait for a manager.

The line next to us has new people that we didn't see in the store whizzing through the check out now. I purposefully try to not meet hubby's gaze. But it's like a magnet, it just snaps my head around and I look at him. He's smiling. He doesn't have to say a thing. And thank goodness he doesn't.

The ex-alert lady now decides to pay for her purchase with a credit card. Whatever. Just move on out of here lady.

We finally get up there, we are in and out in a couple of minutes. Our Sam's card is out, our debit card is out, no problems.

Next time he's picking the line.

It's Only My Hair (aka where my granddaughter gets it from)

2008-06-13T12:28:00.000-07:00

Today was my hair appointment.

Love my hairdresser, love her work, been going to the same salon for three years, so why do I feel the need to reintroduce my hair to her at every visit?

“I’d like it short, but not too short, more than a trim, but I don’t want someone to think it’s been cut, more like it’s neater” I say.

“Okay, got it.” She says “You still like the color?”

“Yes, it’s great. But do you think you can add more blonde here?” I say pointing to my sides.

“Sure I can” she patiently replies.

“How about a bit more lowlights here” as I point to the front.

“Sure, but I thought you liked the color?” she asks.

“Oh I do! I just thought maybe it needed a little something different.”

“Alright, well let’s get started” she replies.

I sit there reading quietly as she adds foil to my head. I swear I am tuning into a radio station because I can faintly hear “La Bamba”.

When all the foils are in, another lady leads me back to “the bowls” depositing me in the capable hands of the bowl girl.

Hair glosser is applied, a plastic bag covers my hair and ears.

“Cajun shrimp?” I hear a voice ask me.

“Excuse me?” I ask. Is someone taking my lunch order?

“Cajun shrimp?” I realize it’s the lady sitting next to me.

“Cajun shrimp?” She asks again, motioning toward my toes.

“Oh! Yes, it’s Cajun Shrimp by OPI.”

“Thought so. Me too” pointing at her toes.

The bowl girl comes back to rinse the glosser.

Now for the chemical treatment that is supposed to soften your hair and even has sunscreen in it.

An hour later, yes ONE HOUR LATER, I am led back to the chair for the cut. This has been a very productive reading session, I’ve made it through at least 80 or 90 pages of my book.

I sit down at my hairdresser’s station with my wet just been glossed and chemed hair. My hairdresser comes back and pulls a comb out of a drawer.

“I part my hair over here.” I helpfully say.

“Same as before?” she replies

Hmmmmmmm…. I think. Do I detect a tone?

“I like a bit of a bang but not too much”.

“Okay” snipping away.

I don’t think she heard me, but she does have scissors in her hand and it's near lunch time, maybe she’s hungry.

The blow dryer goes on and there is no way I can hear her or vice versa.

She’s done, she fluffs, and snips a bit more, and this time she’s really done.

It’s perfect!

She knows me so well!

Happy To See Me?

2008-06-12T12:17:00.000-07:00

This morning I met a girlfriend for coffee at Earth Fare. We are both coffee addicts, even get the shakes when we don't drink several cups before 9 AM.

She has this Topsy Turvy contraption she wants to use. It's the thing that's advertised on TV where you can grow tomatoes upside down.

Outside of Earth Fare, they have several different type of plants for sale. Everything from flowers to herbs to vegetables. The tomato plants were at least a foot and a half tall and had tomatoes already growing on the vine.

She stoops down and starts looking at the plants. Out of maybe a dozen, she picks the perfect one. As she gets ready to walk in the store with it, I notice something, uhmmmm a little odd about this particular plant and mention it to her.

"Did you see the tomato?"

"Yes, it's nice." She replies.

"But did you look at the tomato?" I insist.

"Yes it'll be perfect in my Topsy Turvy."

"Look at it! It has a tomato penis."

"What???" she exclaims.

" A penis. It has a tomato penis."

She looks at it and this huge grin comes across her face.

It's a boy!!!!

What Have You Done For Me Lately

2008-06-11T10:20:00.000-07:00

After 20 years with Hubby we know all the steps to our word dances.

This morning I was outside cleaning up the pool area, rearranging things, mopping the floor in the pool house, and looking at everything through “what needs to be cleaned next?” glasses.

The patio deck is a little darker in some places, notably under the planters and table. A good pressure washing is in order. I could call someone to come and pressure wash the deck but why? We own a pressure washer, Hubby can clean it can’t he?

Hubby was outside performing a “catch and release” on a turtle that had somehow got trapped in our skimmer so what better time to bring up pressure washing?

“Honey, the patio is in need of a good cleaning. Could you pressure wash it?”

He replied, “Sure honey, I could.”

“Okay, when?”

“I said I could, I didn’t say I would.”

Suddenly I get it, visions of trading shells and animal hides swirl in my head.

“Okay, would you do it?”

“Sure, I would, we can work something out,”

“Okay, for what?”

“Well I would like to play golf on Saturday and Sunday”.

Now he already plays golf on Sunday. We are really only talking about Saturday. And plus he plays with a group of guys that tee off at the crack of dawn.

Upside: 1.) He gets exercise, 2.) I get to sleep in, 3.) The deck is pressured washed

Where’s the downside?

“Okay honey, that’s fine” I sigh.

He walks away pleased with his bartering skills.

GOTCHA!

Who's Walking Who?

2008-06-10T16:55:00.000-07:00

So I go out to dinner with friends tonight. It was so hot today when you walked outside your skin blistered. All I could muster an appetite for was salad. And wine. It's never too hot not to have wine.

Oh, I was proud of myself tonight. I ordered off the menu. As is. Yes that's right, as is. My usual order goes something like "I'd like the steak with the green beans. But hold the green beans and give me the spinach instead. And instead of steak, make it a chicken breast. Oh, and the bread, can you toast it?" Hubby just rolls his eyes and my girlfriends laugh yet probably roll their eyes too when I look away.

Hubby took our youngest daughter out tonight for dinner. Her first week on her own and we are her dinner plan$ all week. Smart girl.

I get home and he is busy at his desk and I see that he is using the online banking. Fun, fun, fun. I just keep on walking. Don't want to open myself up for questions in that realm.

"Has the dog been out?" I ask.

"Nope"

"Okay, I'll take her out"

She hasn't been out for a few hours and I KNOW she has to go. We go outside and she sits and stares at me. She's not moving.

"Bailie, go potty" I plead.

Nothing. She doesn't even look at me. What the heck?

I did it to myself. I got her used to going on a walk to do her "duty". The week at the beach has given the neighbor's yard a break and I really didn't want to start that up again.

I pick her up and move her to the pine straw.

"Go Potty" I forcefully urge.

Nothing. Unless you count a baleful stare.

Well for gosh sakes. I can't go to bed when I know she has business to do.

"Want to go for a walk?"

She jumps up and all 6 pounds run to the door.

On goes the harness and leash, I grab the blue potty bag as she leads me out the door.

Somehow I am able to get her to walk on the other side of the road. Three houses down - success. And not even on the car dealer's yard!

She immediately turns and heads back home.

How picky. It's like she has to go to a CVS or something.

I think hubby thinks I am not on to him and his tricks. He is watching "Deadliest Catch". There is alot of "Look at that!" and "Jesus!" exclamations coming from the front room.

A few minutes ago I heard " Man! Oh Man! How lucky that guy is!" I walked over there and asked him who was lucky. Apparently he saw some commercial with a level with bubbles. I don't get it. He has a level, one with a laser. And it's not like I am going to let him use it anyhow. He and I have an understanding about hanging stuff up, I have to be almost in another state before he can hang pictures or shelves. Unfair you say? An over reaction? Well c'mon over and look at the "first try" holes under the shelves. It's better when middle son hangs up stuff for us.

Hey.. maybe I'll get him the bubble level!

Show Me Where it Hurts

2008-06-09T16:22:00.000-07:00

Today was my appointment to find out the results of the MRI.

My preference is to have my appointment as early in the morning as possible. You get up, take a shower, go to the doctor. No stopping in between to jog a few laps or weed the garden.

Clean is good.

I get there early and they move me right through the series of waiting rooms. It's never just one main waiting room, you have to check in and given the all clear to proceed to the inner sanctum, the second waiting room.

Once there, I barely read a couple of pages in my book when the nurse calls me to the back. I felt pretty good this morning, my back wasn't hurting and I felt happy. I'm a morning person, a happy as a clam morning person.

I sprung up and was heading toward the nurse when I noticed the only other person in the room, a lady around 70 or so with a back brace, looking at me. Her eyes were saying "What are YOU doing here?" My steps slowed down, I developed a limp, I think I groaned a bit.

I get back in the room and am reminded that not only will I get my MRI results, but have a nerve test conducted. Okey dokey.

The doctor comes in. Every time I look at him I want to card him. He looks so young yet there is a certificate on the wall that claims that he is a Doctor of Osteopathy.

He review the MRI with me. I have a small bulge between my S1 and L5. He emphasizes "small". The nerve test consists of a computer hooked up to electrodes. I swear that's what it looked like to me. He tells me "I am going to stimulate the muscle with electrical impulses first and then test the nerve". He starts fiddling with his cords and pads and I say "How are you going to test the nerve?"

"Stick a mumble in it".

"What? Pardon?"

"Stick a needle in it."

"What kind of needle? An acupuncture needle?"

"Yes, a needle similar to that."

Okay - he's the doctor, but I still brace myself.

The electrical muscle test stuff went fine. Kinda weird watching your muscles shake or jerk without you doing a thing. I was entertained.

Then the nerve test.

So I'm laying there. He says "POKE" and jabs a needle near my ankle.

"Hey!!! That hurts" I yell out, startled to say the least.

He ignores me.

"POKE" he shouts

"Wait a minute, that hurts!"

He pauses and says "It feels like an ache right?"

"What do you mean "right"? Haven't you ever had this done?"

"Well I poked my arm once" he says. "Just did it to myself".

It takes a second to review that in my mind.

"Just so you know, it's not an ache, it feels like you are smashing down on a new bruise."

He continues.

For some, apparently masochistic, reason, I still like this guy.

He finishes with the front and I turn over. After the shocks, he says, "Okay I am done shocking you, now turn over for the poking."

Okay - he said it.

I didn't.

I could let it go.

But I don't.

My leg is smarting. I'm a bit peeved about that.

"Well you must be real fun on a date." I say, chuckling.

"Oh I don't take my kit with me when I go on dates" he replies.

Touche Doc.

A Day of Rest

2008-06-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

Not much happened today.

Hubby played golf this morning and I played hookey from Church. Being Catholic , I felt guilty about not going. I'm over it now though.

I needed a morning to myself. No one here, no one calling me, just all by myself.

HA HA HA ---that's what I thought I wanted.

There wasn't any food in the house, for I had planned on going today to Earth Fare.

Thank goodness for oatmeal you can make with water, and Weight Watchers cream cheese that keeps an unusually long time which was perfect on my mini wheat bagel.

Hopped in the shower, and was able to get to Earth Fare as they were opening at 9. It took me an hour to shop; I get mesmerized by all the organic offerings. Everything sounds either healthy or fancy. A pretty label and well crafted name can part me from my money. Jalapeno hummus, butternut risotto, and mushroom sage steak sauce, jumped in my cart. We are going to have some creative dinners this week.

As I am unpacking the groceries, youngest daughter called. She is moving out this weekend to her own place, last night was her first night in her new digs so this morning I really had the house to myself (or so I thought).

She wanted to let me know she, and middle daughter, and middle daughter's boy friend, were on their way over to pick up another load of stuff. Middle son was on his way over with his pickup to help move the big furniture. Within minutes the house was full again.

Do you cringe like I do when anyone, but especially your family, moves furniture up or down the stairs? To say it worries me is an understatement . It drives me nutty. " The walls! Watch out for the walls!" I will cry out. And it's mandatory to cover everything with blankets or quilts just in case something touches a wall and chips the paint.

This morning I decided to give them all a gift, no looney bossy paint chip fearing mom. A nice tall glass of iced tea, a lounge chair OUTSIDE, and a phone call to one of my best friends kept me away from the action.

And even without my nagging, the walls came away unscathed.

They left, and about an hour later hubby comes home from golf ready for lunch. After a turkey sandwich and cantaloupe, I start getting antsy.

Yep, I did, I went over to visit her. It was quiet around here, he was watching golf, and the little white dog was laying on her pillow not moving a muscle unless someone yelled "treat!"

They were all there, middle son hanging up pictures for her. And oldest daughter was on her way over to go with her to Sam's to buy frozen chicken breasts and laundry soap. You're growing up when you want to spend your afternoon at Sam's.

To say I had a glimpse of a life without me around would be accurate.

They'd be okay. Their "issues", I saw this past week while on vacation, are really my issues.

They are able to work things out when I give them a chance and not try to make them do it my way which must be the better way because it's my way. I'm learning to let go I suppose.

When I got home to hubby, we looked at each other wandering what to do next. Okay, we did have the house to ourselves.

A little while later we looked at each other wondering what to do next.

We ordered the uncut version of "American Gangster" with Denzel Washington. Do you know that it is 175 minutes? THREE HOURS! We paused it several times, even paused it while I made dinner. Watching it in a movie theatre would have done a number on my bladder.

The pool looked inviting after dinner so I jumped in for a float. On a floaty. I'm not a swimmer but I sure can use a float, kicking just enough to keep me from bumping into the walls.

Hmmm--- it's kinda quiet around here...

Maybe I'll grill some burgers tomorrow night and invite the kids over for dinner.

Get in the Car and Buckle Up

2008-06-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

We're home.

We had to check out by 10 AM. That meant 9 adults, 2 children and one dog had to; eat breakfast, get dressed, make up beds, gather up linens, load the dishwasher, clean out the fridge, load up vehicles, and return keys all by 945. Oh, and find several pairs of wayward flip-flops.

And we did it.

We should get a medal.

There were four pots of coffee involved.

Sure hope I locked the door.

Once we got on the road it was clear sailing. Up until we had to change the DVD for our youngest granddaughter from "101 Dalmations" to "Rapunzel". That involved a little teamwork on hubby's and my part. Okay, I am not a whiz at DVD's, setting clocks, or anything involving a timer. But I could see.

I know you're thinking "Who was driving?" He was driving.

Okay, hold on, it's just that he had on his sunglasses, not his reading glasses, and I wear my readers all the time because you never know when you might be in the middle of nowhere trying to change a DVD at 55 mph and need to see the little screen between the steering wheel and glove box. (do they still call it a glove box?)

Anyhow, we pop out "Dalmations", easy enough, and insert "Rapunzel".

There's alot of choices. And there's alot of arrows, and why are there two menu options?

He presses something and it gives us audio choices. That's not it.

I press something and it tells us we can't make selections while driving. We concede it might be safer to pull over, and it's not like it's going to let us do anything until we put the car in park anyway. We see an empty church parking lot and he pulls in the Yukon.

There was a reason our granddaughter was in the car. There was a reason we were in a CHURCH parking lot. Not that words were exchanged, no, we used glances and looks instead.

"Okay," he says "Let's get out the book."

He must see no hope at all if he is resorting to reading the directions. Two touches later, "Rapunzel" was rolling. How simple!

After all this activity, I have to go to the bathroom. Normally I tell him about 20 minutes from the drop dead time. Gives him plenty of time to pass a few exits. But it just comes over me and I need to go. Now.

"Oh, there's a CVS!" I exclaim "Pull over and let me go in there."

I have this thing about bathrooms. I will use when backed into a corner, Mc Donald's bathrooms, they are usually cleaner. But by far I prefer to go to bathrooms at drugstores; Walgreen's, Rite-Aid, or CVS. I mean, who thinks of going there just to use the bathroom?

They do let the public use their bathrooms, but you can tell about 95% of the bathroom traffic is from employees. They have potpourri in their bathrooms. And good toilet paper, and floral scented hand-soap. Yup, I scored comfort and cleanliness when I saw a CVS.

I did have a "Duh" moment coming home. That sometimes happens.

I have another thing, this one about fruit and veggie stands. I hate to pass them up without stopping and getting something. We saw a big sign for fresh local corn and he knew I wanted to stop. It was pretty packed in there, lots of produce lovers. I found the corn bins and looked for the bags. There were only plastic bags available. I don't know about you, but my corn always rips the plastic bags. I end up trying to fold the plastic around the corn and "package" it to get it home. I was hoping that they had paper bags by the register. I asked her if they had any paper bags for the corn.

She looked at me and said "Silk side down."

That's it, that's all she said.

It was like daybreak, you know the sun coming up and angels trumpeting the arrival of a new day.

Silk side down!

We were so hungry by the time we got into town, that we pulled into Sonic for lunch. Sonic has half-priced drinks from 2 to 4 PM every day so if I am out and about I drop by for some tea. But that's a drive-thru mission. This is eating, so we have to pull in a stall and place an order. Do you know you can pay for it right there at the menu? There's an ATM-like slot and it takes all kinds of plastic, why carry cash?

The menu has a lot of choices, we finally figure out what we want and he pushes the "Place Order" button.

We wait.

And wait.

And still we wait.

I get out of the car and get the dog some water for her bowl and we still are waiting.

I ask hubby to push the button again.

He looks at me and says, "See how the button is red? That's because I pushed it. So they know we are on-line and waiting."

"On-line?" I wonder.... well all I know is that they aren't asking us what burger we want so there's a problem.

"Push the button again." I suggest a little more forcibly that the first time I asked.

He doesn't say a word, just makes a sound between a sigh and a strangle and leans out the window and pushes it.

"Welcome to Sonic. How may I help you?" a chipper voice booms from the speaker.

He slowly says " A coincidence."

Whatever.

So we order, eat, and then decide to have one last vacation fling and order ice cream.

He pushes the button.

We wait.

And wait.

I look at him.

He looks away.

I cough.

He pushes the button again.

"Welcome to Sonic. How may I help you?"

What a coincidence.

We're Out of Milk

2008-06-06T17:23:00.000-07:00

So this morning hubby gets up and gets me a cup of coffee to sip slowly in bed as I wake up. He's a good guy.

It's 630 and we are probably the only ones awake.

As he goes out the bedroom door, I ask him to take the dog out. She knows I'm talking about her and gets up and moves as far away from me as possible. I will admit she does look comfortable snuggled on the bed, she may even be contemplating going back to sleep. I would too if someone had rubbed my belly and cooed; "What a cute girl!" and " Oh, that's a good stretch" and let's not forget the little kissy sounds.

Well maybe not fall asleep right away....

He brings the coffee back upstairs and announces there is only a half gallon of milk left.

That's a big deal for this clan.

We need about a gallon for breakfast, a cow would be nice.

He volunteers to go to the store. The thing is, he is ready right now. He could get his keys, get in the car and drive to Piggly Wiggly without being stared at as he walks in the store.

It would take me at least 30 minutes to get ready and then I still would have to figure out what to do with my wild beach hair. He looks good rumpled, and sexy with that gray stubble.

Not fair. Not fair at all.

We go downstairs and he starts to look around the kitchen and asks me if we need anything else. Our middle daughter is up and wants coffee creamer. And we also need bottle water. He says okay and starts to head out.

"Oh yeah," I shout after him "and lunch meat."

He stops.

He turns.

He walks back into the kitchen.

He looks at me and says " You know that's four."

Oh yeah..eeek... four items.

Now I have to make him a list. For he has a three item retention limit.

Middle daughter looks at us oddly.

"Were you going to ask him to get a certain flavor of creamer?" I ask.

"Yes, it has to be Carnation brand French Vanilla".

"Good luck on that." I laugh

She tries to find a notepad and a pen but can only find crayons and Bounty. Even Bounty will tear when you try to write on it with a crayon.

She gives up. She looks down and realizes how long it will take her to get ready. She shrugs and says whatever, throws on a sweatsuit and goes out the door in about 5 minutes.

Wish I could do that.

But I drink my coffee black.

And I can eat toast.

I chuckle as I kick back and enjoy the quiet.

Snakes on a Tree

2008-06-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

Today we went to the Serpentarium. Yes, you read that right, snakes. Lots of snakes.

Black snakes, corn snakes, rattlers, pythons, all sorts of snakes.

Snakes in enclosed glass boxes, snakes in logs, snakes in water, snakes in the grass, and snakes in trees.

That last one gave me the heebie jeebies. That's me above, eyeing the snake tree with trepidation.

Imagine this, a tree with snakes draped over the branches, curled up in knots, and slithering up and down the trunk.

You think "Snakes on a Plane" made you flinch??? Walk next to a snake tree and visions of snakes falling on your head will make you scoot along at a quick pace.

Saw a young guy in the snake pit picking up eggs. I asked him if he had found a nest. He said "No, these are probably from the black racer, she sits on a branch and just drops her eggs."

I looked at him and said "Really?"

He replied "Yeah, she isn't exactly know for her mothering instincts".

What an understatement.

I think I'll tell my offspring that it's a big plus for them that I hung around and just didn't plop 'em out saying, "Good luck, have a nice life."

I watched "Snakes on a Plane". What a waste of two hours of my life. But I did cover my chest as I walked by the snake tree. Some things leave an impression and makes certain "parts" tingle.

They also had alligators. Big ole fat alligators. Seems they feed theirs daily when most wild alligators eat once a week. Thank God, hopefully they won't lunge at kids thinking "Chicken!".

I have been to several places that have alligators and I have yet to see alligator poop.

Don't they poop? Where is it? Have you ever seen it? It's a mystery I tell you.

I couldn't wait to get out of that place and back to the beach. You don't see snakes on the beach.

If you do, please keep it to yourself.

It was a long day for our middle son and hubby. The heat was getting to them at the Sepentarium. Something about a hangover coupled with heat and humidity that will make you feel putrid.

Not that they drunk alot, but at midnight hubby was still downstairs. I'm sleeping and I hear "BAM" and then "I got you! I win! Who's the man??"

They had conducted their annual armwrestling championship. One year hubby won't take the prize and the torch will be passed. But until then, he gloats and crows and enjoys the competition.

Visions of them armwrestling, ummm, a little inebriated?, on the glass top table had me frozen in bed for a sec.

Reminder - We are renting this house.

We don't own it.

We luckily have renters insurance for the week. I see the deposit winging away.

"So.. where did you wrestle?"

"What do you mean?" As he lazily opened an eye.

"Which table did you use?"

"Which one do you think?"

After numerous Jack and Cokes he stills wants to play games? This man that smells like the rum cake we eat on Christmas Eve?

I sit up in bed and loudly exclaim " Did you sit at the glass top?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Arghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Curse You Reader's Digest!

2008-06-04T05:17:00.000-07:00

The little white dog sleeps with us.

The first few months we boasted to all how she didn't sleep with us, she was crate trained and we were in control. She, the dog, let us think that for a few months before she showed us who was really boss. Her.

Every night when it's bedtime, she comes over to the bed and stands there waiting for the human elevator to come and lift her up to her sleeping quarters. Her snuggle time is limited to how long she deems it necessary to placate us before she trots off to the nether regions of the bed to settle in for the night. If additional snuggle time is bestowed on us, it's due to a) it's cold or b) she's scared.

Last night she was scared at 1:16 AM.

She jangled her collar until I woke up, scratching her neck with her backside in my face until I woke up. Lovely.

Why is she here? It's not cold. Then I heard it.

shuffle shuffle ...slap

What?

I looked around and didn't see anything. It was dark so no surprise there. I start to drift off, shuffle shuffle... slap slap

I sit up. What was THAT??? I get up and look on the deck - it's dark out there. Maybe a possum? I turn on the light expecting to hear something squeal and run off. Nothing. I go back to bed. The white dog is looking at me. "Well?" I look at her thinking fine time to have a Maltese. Where's a German Shepherd when you need one.

Shuffle shuffle...slap

All I can think about is every True Life Drama I have ever read in Reader's Digest. Remember those? The stories of wild animals attacking families as they sleep in their beach house, kids getting kidnapped, mad sea turtles going on a rampage. All the weird whacko stories of unconceivable things happening to unsuspecting people.

So I get up and check out the house...

Why am I checking out the house and not the hubby you ask? Waking the dead is easier.

You have to convince him that getting up is important, and necessary. Not gonna happen. A maniacal killer could be coming at him with a knife screaming "Cowabunga!!!" and he would barely stir until after the first blows. Well unless you get romantic, he wakes up for that. I weigh my choices and decide that the level of terror is not quite high enough for me to wake him up just yet.

I open the door and am assailed by the thunderous roar of a multitude of snorers. How does anyone around here get a good night's sleep? I cock my ear to the right and hear my oldest son playing what a think is a tuba. To the left our middle daughter is playing a cello. A night-time symphony in surround sound.

I explore the house anticipating a crime scene around each corner. Nothing.

I go back upstairs and settle back in. Maybe I scared whatever it was off.

The dog looks at me. I have a feeling she thinks she sent me out on a mission.

I feel used.

I settle back in bed.

Now I have to go to the bathroom.

As I sit there, the wooden shutter slats is moved by the wind.

shuffle shuffle ..slap

I'm going back to bed.

It's Only Hair

2008-06-03T15:48:00.000-07:00

My youngest granddaughter is 5 years old, soon to be 16. Oops! Did I say that? I meant 6.

After sunning all day at the beach, she comes into my bathroom, while I am in the shower, to take a bath and get ready for dinner. You would have thought she was headed to the prom.

When she gets out of the shower, it's all about the hair. Already. At 5.

It's very helpful that I had 3 daughters and am used to hair emergencies.

So she gets out and dries off and immediately surveys my inventory of combs and brushes and finds it sorely lacking, for I have only one brush and one comb. And the brush isn't even round.

"Nina, (that's what she calls me), do you have a curling iron?" she says eyeing my brush dubiously.

"No Honey, I don't use a curling iron. But I do have a great hair dryer". Well you can tell that isn't gonna cut it, I better think quick.

"Why would you want a curling iron? No one uses them anymore, they are so passe". I try to be flippant about it - apparently it works because she doesn't even ask what passe means.

"Well do you have clips? You could dry my hair, flip it up on the sides and clip it with pretty little butterfly clips".

"I replied, "This isn't Walgreens. What you see is what you get, here's a rubber band."

Her little mouth sets in a firm line. She is still determined to walk out of here like she was done up for a photo shoot.

"Nina, this isn't working. It's so PLAIN!"

"Do I look like a hairstylist? Am I wearing a smock? Is my hair even remotely like anything you have ever seen in a magazine? Here have some hair gel, I know how to scrunch."

As I get older I have realized two truths; you can humor yourself out of almost any situation, and if you can't, bribery is not going to send you to Hell.

Humor is not cutting it so I work move to stage 2 - bribery.

"Hey, lookey here, I have some eye shadow. How about if you drop the whole hair thing and I will let you use some eyeshadow?"

"What color do you have?"

"I have golden brown and grey."

" I want gold. Can you make a pony tail?"

Sure I can.

Some Cereals Are Just for Girls

2008-06-02T15:02:00.000-07:00

This morning was cereal morning. The girls that had food detail today, had set out several types of cereal and some muffins for breakfast.

My daughter-in-law and hubby were downstairs when I came down seeking some java assistance to begin my day.

Let's see which cereal would I eat... Honey Nut Cheerios? Froot Loops? Honey Bunches of Oats or Curves? I chose the Curves. The lady on the box sure looked happy, jumping up in exhilaration - she probably already had her coffee.

The cereal was so good I asked hubby if he wanted some. He looked at me over his glasses and said "No". In a way like I was asking him if he wanted to shave his legs or do something totally against his grain.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because that's girl cereal" He replied.

"Girl cereal?"

"Yes, it's a girl cereal".

"Okaaaaayyyyy" (drawing the word out very slowly and deliberately) "What would be a guy's cereal?"

My daughter-in-law says "Wheaties." Hubby says "Yeah! Wheaties!"

"Or Raisin Bran" he adds.

And another "girl's" cereal?

She's quickly replied (must've already had her coffee), "Special K".

Now the sad part is this, I get it. I totally get it.

Curves is for girls.

Butter is a Condiment

2008-06-01T08:50:00.000-07:00

Well we're all at the beach. No one got lost getting here, got into a fight, or fell off the balcony. Yet.

To encourage family bonding, hubby and I thought we would get all the kids to chip in for food and each day there would be different "cooks" who would be responsible for breakfast and dinner and cleaning the kitchen that day. Pre-planning skills are desirable since you go to the grocery store the night before for the food for the next day. The only one I thought might need a little "help" in that area was the second day's team; Hubby and our youngest son. Let's face facts; no girls on that team. Could be a plus when deciding what to cook, but not what is needed in order to complete the task.

To them, things like spices, cooking oil, foil, are not necessary items to get the job done, but instead, perks.

I doubt hubby even knows where I keep the spices at home or even what exactly constitutes a spice except for salt and pepper, and possibly cinnamon. And let's not even mention herbs.

So here's my thinking... they might need some help. Maybe a few suggestions on what to get, at least the basic necessities; bread, milk, etc...

The first time I started listing items he said "I thought you were bringing everything except what we are cooking?" I replied "Yeah, I'm bringing the condiments " and rattled off mayo, mustard, ketchup.. and that's when it happened. I was waved off! Yes, waved off! Said he "got it".

Still, I was concerned. Talk about your OCD personality, well it's me. Talk about a laid back one, and you're painting a picture of him. Yet it works for us. So on the way here in the car where he can't escape, I start in again, "You might want to get some bread, milk." and then I'm waved off, AGAIN!!! I only listed two items! He was getting a little perturbed at me and said " I GOT IT!" in a bit louder voice than the first time. Okay ----- thinking maybe I can write a list and stick it in his wallet by the cash. At least I won't be there when he finds it. How can this not be helpful? I am mystified.

So they go to the store and bring home bags of groceries. After they fill up the fridge and cupboards, and leave the room, I go and check it out... bread, milk. He listened! I am elated!

This morning they get up and start cooking, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast. I ask where's the butter?

He looks at me.

He is still looking at me.

What??

He says " You said you were bringing the condiments! Why didn't you tell me you didn't bring any butter?"

Now I know.

Butter is a condiment.

I Am Wearing Underpants!

2008-05-31T03:29:00.000-07:00

Daughters are girlfriends without the tact.

So yesterday she and I are walking in the restaurant when she asks "Are you wearing underpants?" Huh??? Why would she think that??? What a questions as my hand is on the door going inside.. could you not have asked that in the parking lot?

It's the white pants syndrome. Aren't all women a little scared wearing white pants?

It was hot, I wore white capris. Yes, of course mom wore underwear. I now believe all claims made by Victoria Secret that you will not see panty lines if you spend fifteen bucks on a little piece of their nylon. Whenever I wear white pants I practically break my neck holding a mirror over my shoulder looking at my ass trying to see if I look "overflowing" and decent. Those capri passed the mirror test.

Needless to say when I got home I did a second mirror test and I purposefully paraded in front of hubby to see if he noticed something amiss. No comment.

Then I remembered I wore those capris in front of my sisters-in-law when we were in Mexico. Sister-in-laws tell each other if something is wrong, like spinach in your teeth or forgotten drawers. Since they passed the sister-in-law test, I just chalked it up to another one of those times where a daughter wonders how I function all day without a caregiver and do we really need to live on our own when assisted living communities are so abundant these days.

We are headed to the beach today. Thank God we are gas guzzling greedy Americans because I really need that Yukon to haul all the stuff I packed. The most important thing in those boxes is my coffee. Forget everything else - life would be a living hell for all those around me if I could not get my caffeine fix every morning. Oh, and sunscreen. Cheap sunscreen makes me itch.

I still have to pack hubby's toilet paper. Every now and then I switch toilet papers on him wondering if he will noticed. I figure I have to balance out the Yukon so I try different things to try to reduce my carbon footprint (sounds like a marketing campaign but I do buy into the recycle message). Let's not get me started on global warming. Anyway, back to the toilet paper, I was shopping at Earth Fare and threw in my cart a pack of recycled toilet paper. It used the word "soft" on the package (marketing again). I get home and changed it out with the Charmin with Aloe and Vitamin E. Actually put the rolls in the packaging - get it? Recycled paper in Charmin wrapping. Figured it was all in hubby's head. Apparently he could be a toilet paper tester and command big bucks. One swipe and he is yelling "What did you buy?" and then I hear "I work hard and if I don't make enough money for good toilet paper I need a second job!"

So if you ever visit us and need to use the bathroom, use the one in our room. It has good toilet paper in it.

Exploits of a Little White Dog...

2008-05-30T04:16:00.000-07:00

Life is good for our fluffy little white dog. She sleeps on our bed, gets organic jerky sticks for treats, and is kissed and cuddled whenever she wants, and probably when she doesn't too. Being a good mommy, I started watching Caesar Milan on the National Geo Channel, figured he could give me some tips. (she did have this rather annoying habit of being an ankle biter).

Caesar kept on and on about walking your dog. Bailie's legs are short and she's so little that tossing her "baby" back and forth is the same concept I reasoned. But watch Caesar a few times and the guilt starts to set in. Every time I flipped through the channels and that show was on a dog was being walked. Was it some sort of sign? Was Bailie's guardian angel sending me "walk your dog damn it" messages??

So we started walking. Gotta admit she seemed excited when I yelled "let's get your leash". And my thighs are starting to look a little less flabby.

Then she started saving her "duty" for the walk. Now to get the dog to poop, you gotta walk her. Is that her way of making sure I continue the walks?? I think so, she's not a dumb dog. But why must she poop on the same yard every time? We get a few houses down from us and the circling dance begins. I get my little bag at the ready, and just know the homeowners are staring at us from behind their curtains wondering why every evening the same dog poops on just their yard. Funny thing is that they own a car dealership. Maybe they think I bought a car from them and it was a lemon and my idea of retribution is having my dog lay a pile on their yard. I do take a little blue potty bag with me so no evidence remains. Maybe their fertilizer attract canines, who knows?

Went to the recital last night, it started at 7 and ended at 10. Just saying.

She was by far the cutest little girl there. I am sure that if we took a vote she'd win by a landslide.

There were some idgits there - the ones that yell their kid's name when the curtain is about to go up? Wish I could have met "REBA!"'s parents - would have told them that their daughter wasn't lost so stop the yelling.

Hubby bought a new digital camera yesterday. Our old one was a basic model which was fine by me except for the screen which was itty bitty. Okay, okay, so I wear my readers alot these days.. but they are stylish!

When the camera died we were in Mexico and I had already commented that it was "acting funny". A woman just knows when something is acting funny. The dishwasher is making a different sound or the dryer is acting weird - we have household machinery esp or it's that we are the only ones ever using these machines and thus we are the sound experts. Funny how no one believes us until the thing croaks.

So he buys a new camera. This thing has all the bells and whistles that a techno gadgeteer would want. This frightens me. I want to point and shoot and see it on a big screen - that's about it. Really.

This thing is cool looking though - Star Trek cool. It has a touchscreen , so now I have to make sure there is not any sunscreen or gunk on my hands when I take pics. And I have to be able to see the options on the touch screen in the sun. Now I am worried. TOO MUCH CAMERA! But here he went out and bought the very best he could to give us primo quality pics and even HD playback. Very nice, very sweet and he is excited. The look on my face when he shows it to me tells the tale - he says "you don't like it". No, I think, I am overwhelmed. I want point and click!!! By the end of the recital he had figured out, after taking several pics of his shoes, how to go back to the last pic without touching 14 screens and making 8 selections. ( a wee tad exaggeration)

He's a good guy. If he had longer hair I'd buy him a hair dryer with multiple attachments and hair settings. I can hear him now.. " I just want to point and click".

So I'm Blogging....

2008-05-29T05:40:00.000-07:00

As I sit here with my coffee, I realize we lead an interesting, albeit crazy, life. Maybe a little blogging will be useful to me, sorta like therapy without the bill.

My husband and I have a blended family, six kids total, 4 his and 2 mine. We have been married almost 20 years and are still intact and in love. I think a peridoic dose of kid drama has helped us stay stable in our relationship, I've alternated wondering if I should call Dr. Phil or Jerry Springer. Most days I just grab a piece of dark chocolate feeling the love it brings.

Dark chocolate has been shown to lower blood pressure and cholesterol. Okay, great, but who cares about that when it does this;

it tastes good
it stimulates endorphin production, which gives a feeling of pleasure
it contains serotonin, which acts as an anti-depressant

It's either chocolate or vodka tonics so chocolate wins.

And btw, when googling the benefits of dark chocolate, I noticed a lot of blogs out there that were written by menopausal women touting the benefits of dark chocolate. Kinda scary thinking the only thing that could stand between you and getting rammed by a ticked off baby boomer woman is a Dove bar.

Back to the family...

We also have a few significant others of kids, one daughter-in-law, and 2 granddaughters, 5 and 6, with two more grandchildren due third quarter. (My old Corporate Self will appear from time to time).

Tonight we are going to a recital for our 6 year old granddaughter. Let's be honest here - I don't care about the other kids, I just want to see her dance. Not looking forward to sitting through all the other routines but when she comes onstage it will be all worth it.

Today I am taking my other granddaughter to lunch. She wants to go to Piccadilly Cafeteria. If you let her pick where she wants to go eat invariably she picks a place with a sneeze shield. Guess you gotta be 5 to see the glory in an endless of array of jello desserts.

Since this is my first blog I sure hope I can figure out how to get back to it tomorrow.