Female SEALS

I just read the Internet article saying women are breaking all kinds of barriers in the Navy, and are likely to become SEALS at some point in the future.  While I think that's great for women, I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it.  An all woman SEAL TEAM?  ABSOLUTELY.  A co-ed team?  I'm not so sure that would be a good idea and here's why : on some level, guys are gonna be thinking "boobs"--ya just know they are.  I don't care what you say, straight guys have that automatically wired on their DNA.  And those other lady parts?  Those, too...guys are just gonna be fantasizing  about what's under those fatigues, period.  And that's not a great idea in the middle of a drop in raid.  Now admittedly, I don't know squat about SEAL training and maybe those guys can control their minds, and their hormones.  I don't know.  But it's definitely something to think about.
  And straight women are just as bad--on some level, they're gonna be thinking "rockin' bod", "I'd hit that", and "baby daddy".  That's just how men and women are.   I'm all for the advancement of  women in the Navy.  I think we'd be best served by either having a co-ed, gay SEAL team or a single sex per SEAL team.  Otherwise, I'm just afraid nature's gonna get in the way.  It always does.

Wellllll, ooops!

In my previous post, the Lake I mentioned is Ray Roberts--not Ray Hubbard.  Well, hell....I got the Ray part right anyway.  Damn.

Hot and windy--but fun

It was a fast and furious weekend at the Farm with gale force wind, but it was still fun.  Even when it's windy, at least there's a breeze.  While Neil, Bruce's middle brother, planted some plants, I was the ice water and iced tea hoofer back and forth.  My heavy lifting was comprised of sprinkling bags of cedar mulch, after Neil had planted the plants, and smoothing it all around.  Oh, and yessssssss....I also watered the plants in afterwards.  That little bit of effort had me sweating like a hog at butcherin' time and Neil was just as hot. The humidity was just awful.

I did pay my favorite new haunt in town a visit, to see what new things she might have at The Purple Umbrella, but alas, what she had and what I currently have, did not dance well together.  So, instead, we ran back to the house, picked up Sis, and headed out to see the Lake Ray Hubbard Marina, which Sis and I had never seen.  Sis was thrilled to be included, but was mad when I would not put down my window.  Get over yourself, Sis...it was HOT outside. The Marina was much larger than I had expected and very nice, and boy, did that water look inviting.  But since it was white capping and gusty, not a lot of boats appeared to be going out.  Good call.

Oh.....I almost forgot about the little ooops I had when we first arrived.  I opened the big house door, struggled to drop off stuff inside, put the keys down, and stepped outside just as a big gust slammed the door.  The problem??  I hadn't taken the thumb latch lock off BEFORE the door slammed.  Uh, oh.  Luckily, Fred found a way in and since this is online, I'm not saying how, but he did.  Whew.  Otherwise my name would have been mud. 

The shunned horse from a few weeks ago is gone, and another one who is the same red as two of the others is there in his place. He must already know everybody, because there's none of that "you can't play with us" stuff going on anymore.  In fact, Friday night on our way back from dinner, all four of them were hanging around the Barn like dinner was about to be served.  I just couldn't stand it, so once we parked, I hoofed it back down there and served everyone a potluck dinner of oats, and nobody complained in the slightest.  A couple of them even nickered and whinnied their  thank you's, so I felt quite rewarded for my efforts.   Saturday, they were all back in there, again, around lunchtime.  They must think the Barn is a restaurant and no, I did not wait tables again.

The fields were full of wild flowers--so beautiful in fact, it stuns me to think in the past, they used to mow the fields early,  and miss all this.  Some folks be crazy.

My glutes aren't firing

I can't even get on to my own blog. Can't figure out for the life of me what's up, but I'm starting to feel as nuts as Charlie Sheen and I'm definitely not "winning".  Yesterday I went for my introductory one on one session with a trainer at Gold's Gym and among other things, I had to step on their scale.  It was OK until we got to the body fat part, and let's just say if you threw me in the deep end of a pool, I'd float.  Nothing I didn't already suspect---just painful to see in real numbers. And cruel, too.

The trainer and I went through the machines she wants me to do and I definitely have some work to do.  Like maybe I should just move in over there.  Permanently.  Anyway, my trainer introduced me to Michelle, the guru of all things fitness, to figure out what I needed to do not to cause more back issues.  First of all, Michelle looks like a former bodybuilder and I suspect really likes girls, if you get my drift.  She was delightful and when she shook my hand, her grasp was so strong, I practically curtsied.  She told me she could tell by looking at me that one of my hips was higher than the other (she's right) and that "my glutes aren't firing".  I told her "my glutes probably haven't fired in 30 years" and she explained that since they aren't, I'm not getting a lot of support for my upper body, so that my legs are doing all the work my butt should be doing.  Allrightey then.  Butt work.  Check.  Core work.  Check.

Along with everything else core related, I'm going to need a total overhaul.  I decided it is for my health after all, so Emily (the trainer) and I are going to meet for a few sessions to be sure I have everything down correctly, before I try flying solo.  When I told Fred, he just rolled his eyes and did everything but say "Awwww, Ethel...".  When I get myself all firmed up and sassy looking (sort of), I plan to remind him of that and walk naked right past him.   Awww, Ethel is right.

Adios, Oprah

Wow...if you missed Oprah's last show today, you missed a real Master Class in Life.  She spoke for almost the entire hour and was funny, poignant, and wise beyond belief.  What she said was not only true, IMO--it was honest and straight from the heart.  She wasn't trying to please anyone or score any points.  She's way past all that and knows exactly who she is and where she's going.  She doesn't need anyone else to validate her, either.  If you like her and value her, great.  If not, that's OK, too.  What a fabulous role model for all of us.  And, honey, can I please have those pink diamond or pink tourmaline and diamond earrings you wore today....OMG. 

Now what the hell are we gonna do everyday at 4pm??? 

No AAA's??

I think I'm gonna scream and I'm NOT a screamer.  I am still having computer trouble and can't access this site except to go all over everywhere, and then get on.  Yes, it's a high class problem, as problems go, but no less frustrating.  My wireless mouse died--added what I thought were new batteries--no luck.  Bought a new mouse but before I opened it, added yet another set of batteries just for fun, and now I have to return the new mouse.  Then my wireless keyboard started acting up-no AAA's, either--so I am limping along here correcting every other word, since my batteries are heading south.  Ohhhhh, life.....why do you do this to me?

On a happier note, the day is gorgeous and though I haven't gone out yet to check on my gardenia gals, I'm hopeful the hail didn't pound them too badly.  I had two" almost blooms" yesterday, that should be "pickers" today, unless the hail got them.  Jeeze....those poor gals.  They've endured rain, sleet, ice, snow, and several rounds of hail, and could have had to deal with a tornado or two, but luckily, escaped that wrath.  Well..... lookey 'heah...they made it after all.  And they smell deeeeeeevine!!!  Just lean over and take a sniff....I won't tell anybody you smelled your monitor.  They are smaller than I'd planned, but I'll take what I can get. 

On a totally random note, I saw on the Internet where a family had a third child and while happy to announce the child's birth, they are not releasing the sex of the child.  My first thought was that there must be some sort of sexual ambiguity (hermaphrodite or other other) issue but, nope, that's not the deal.  The parents just want the child to "be whomever he/she wants to be" and while that's an admirable idea, how do you do that exactly?  Even the grandparents don't know the sex of the child and it's 4 months old.  Wouldn't a simple diaper change take care of that or do they not let the gr-peeps change the baby's diapers?   And what about pronoun's??  How do you avoid saying he or she... or do you just say "it"?  Whoa.  People are interesting.

What? No Rapture?

That poor old guy that forecast the Rapture for yesterday.....don't you know he's gettin' some grief today?  He forecast something else that didn't happen either, a while back, so when you're 0 for two, you might wanna quit.  There's clearly a problem with your "connection".  He's elderly, so I'll go easy on him but enough with the forecasts.  He might have better luck with the weather.

Fred told me he'd read somewhere that some flaky mom had told her 17 year old daughter that the Rapture was definitely going to happen (yesterday), and that she knew she was going, but that the daughter wasn't going.  Wow.  What a thing to say to your daughter..... Wonder who's laughing her fanny off this morning??? 

And on a lighter note, some of you already know, and Benji is going to post this on FB probably today, but I wanted you all to know first, on American Idol Tuesday night, Lauren Alaina, one of the remaining two finalist, is going to sing an original song co-written by Benji and Scarletta, with Lauren, called Jealous Boy.  And, yeah...I'm a little proud of my baby boy.  Sorry but I just gotta brag for a second.  Nathan Stubbs, from Scarletta, will be playing fiddle for her again, and since this is the Finale, let's hope Lauren wins.  That other guy is just a goober.  Yes, he can sing but.....he's still a goober.  And he holds the microphone like a dam flute.  All of the twelve year old girls love him, so that ought to tell you something.  A twelve year old fan base?  Eeesh.

Capisce?

Since I have been working on plans for Benji and Andrea's Rehearsal Dinner all morning, I've decided to practice my Italian.  Never mind I don't speak any....I've just been using an Italian accent and putting an "a" on the end of almost every word, and  it actually works pretty well...."I speaka Italian prettya gooda".  See?  And I'm using my hands like the Italians do, when they talk, and it adds a lot.  I think it's a greata and it's really getting me in the righta mooda.

A travel agent friend of Bruce's suggested I email our hotel Concierge and get restaurant suggestions, and letta me just a tella you, old Guiseppi responded PDQ. (Pretty damn quick).  Both places are sooo gorgeous, I almost fainted, and with a view and ambiance like that, even if the food isn't perfect, who's gonna notice?  Capisce?  If you want to see either of the two restaurants I've contacted, check out Il Geranio and Villa Brunella, both in Capri, Italy, but fasten your seat belt before you do.  Maybe I'm just hormonal but both are enough to make you weep.
 My sister also came by this morning to give my wedding outfit "The Vogue" seal of approval--dress, shoes, purse, jewelry, etc. and I passed--- all except for the shoes.  Well, crappage.  She said my shoes "screamed", so those puppies can go right back today.  I don't need me no screamin' shoes.  Thank God for sisters.  They are the only people who will tell you the truth.

Adios, Arnold

If you haven't already read the paper, this is your warning: Don't.  There's very little good news and tons of bad, or seemingly bad, so just take my word for it and avoid it at all cost.  And if by chance you bought one, ask for your money back.  I think if more of us actually did that, maybe they'd listen...who am I kidding?  They wouldn't, because admit it or not, we all have a morbid fascination with all things sick, gory, or chilling--why else would we pay money to got to those horrific blow up and guts flying everywhere movies?

And speaking of ten car pile ups, I just have to chew up Arnold a little more, and then I'm done.   I think if any more children come crawling out of the woodwork, with Arnold's square jaw and space between his teeth, he might as well move to the moon.  Yes, he has money and lots of it....good luck buying some forgiveness with all that cash.  My feeling is, at some point, his kids may forgive him, but they will never, ever trust him again or forget what he's done.  Forgiving is not forgetting--it's letting go of the hurt.  I hope it was worth it to Arnold because he's going to pay such a high price, for his indiscretion(s)? and lies.  Screwing up your own life is one thing.  Messing up your kids lives is way worse, and he is clearly one very sick and self destructive man. 

Maria will be fine.  She's a survivor and has a great network of friends. Lord knows she has lots of family to lean on if she wants that, but I'm not thinking she does.  My belief is she will lean on her closest friends for support.  Escaping from The Sperminator may just be her gift, in this whole ugly mess.  And the best news is, "He Won't Be Back."  Ever.  And that's just how I see it.

Ohhhhh...gardenias

This morning as I sat down to the computer, the birds were singing and cheeping, and it was the perfect start to an otherwise overcast day.  Now, it's a little after 9:30 AM and suddenly all is quiet.  What's the deal?  No singing after 9:30....do they only get paid up to a certain time each morning and then knock off for the day?  It is silent as the grave out there and I just wondered what gives?  I may have to Google that. 

I did load the CD of my MRI last night 'cause I could, and after studying the first image and not being able to go on further for some "user unfriendly" reason, I pulled the plug and decided I'd just have to be patient and wait until Monday for the results. 

Back to the bird issue: I just went to grab more coffee and they are singing in the backyard, so maybe they trade off after 9:30.  Not sure, but I'll get on this and report back.  More interesting news-- at least at our house anyway-- is that the gardenia bushes Fred like to died planting last summer, in hopes of having some prolific flowers this summer, are beginning to bloom.  If you remember, these are the old timey gardenias that are about the size of a butter plate when they bloom, and 3 or 4 will scent an entire room with a dizzyingly fragrant smell.  There's just nothing else in the world that compares to the smell of fresh picked gardenias.  One minor glitch to that plan:  the ice and snow from last winter did a number on these gals, so the fact that I have ANY blooms v two dead bushes, is a miracle of nature.  So far, I missed one bloom, have already harvested one, and have 9-11 more to come, so I am patrolling daily.  The bush on the far right got it the worst and so far has only put out one possible bloom, but I'm coaxing her along and will throw her some additional fertilizer, to see if I can get her going.  Poor gal....she looks almost anorexic... but she's putting out all new tiny little leaves, so she's on her way back. 

Gardenias always make me think of my grandmother, Mimi, and her lake house at Coon Creek.  When I was young, she had gardenia bushes all across the front of her house and when they bloomed, it was just insane.  She had to keep them surrounded by chicken wire to keep the deer from eating them but they were fantastic while they lasted.  When they finally croaked, Fred and I used to snag fresh ones from another lady's yard, on our walks back from dinner.  The lady was never there when we were, so we decided it was our job to enjoy her flowers, so they wouldn't got to waste.  An..oh, baby.....we did.  Nothing says summer like the smell of of gardenias.

Yo-Yo me

If you are hearing a bunch of zzzzz-ing and other electrical noises, it's just my computer getting de-bugged in Las Colinas.  After having it contract a nasty worm or virus and send people unsolicited links to stuff I've never heard of, it was just time to get the old gal into Rehab.  Hopefully, after this trip, she'll be able to stay clean, and away from the wrong "elements".  That may mean I have to stay away from downloading pictures from the Internet which is my most favorite part of blogging--finding pictures that fit, and make me laugh--but I may have to.  Please...like that will really happen.

Today I feel like a yo-yo and not in a good way.  I was supposed to have a medical test at 9am this morning only to have it hijacked by the insurance people who wanted more information from my doctor as to why I was having it, before they'd pre-cert it.  As a result, it got cancelled right as I was about to arrive at Presby.  So, back home I went.  I did a few other things that also included waiting, and then lo' and behold, I got  a phone call saying it's now back on.  Be here at 3pm.  Long story short, it was a totally FUBAR experience and I'm thrilled to have it done.  Now, I wait until Monday for my results.  Or, I load the CD they burned for my doctor on here, and see if I can make heads or tails of my results.  I probably can't, but I already know I'm gonna try any way. Sometimes trying to resist being naughty is just too much for me....


















 
















 

Think it over, FIRST

While Donald has fallen off the radar momentarily, the scrutiny surrounding Arnold has certainly ramped up.  It just slays me that guys especially never think about the possible repercussions of their actions until after the poo hits the fan.  This is behavior I'd expect from teenagers or even small children--not grown adults--which brings me to the obvious conclusion:  no thinking was involved, period, and some men are just not mature adults.  Arnold is the new Poster child for this malady.

   Arnold's behavior was all about "doing it now" and thinking about it later, and then, only when you hit a little snag like a pregnancy.  You know as well as I do it wasn't a one time fling.  Nahhhh.  And to get your maid pregnant at the same time you've gotten your wife pregnant, there is just NO EXCUSE. No explaining or justifying is going to get you out of this, and no apology is going to ever fix what you've done.

Nobody's perfect and I get that.  Arnold's no different than anyone else and I guess that's what gets me.  If you spend all your time making deals, acquiring more, worshiping $$, letting your ego run wild, and believing your own press, you begin to really think you are different.  You begin to think somehow the rules don't apply to you, and you forget all those basic truths we learned as children.  And when that happens, you  get out of balance and are headed for a brick wall going 90 mph.  You are gonna screw up seriously and it's gonna be messsssssy.  Lots of other people are going to get caught up in the tsunami of your life lessons.  You are going to hurt and destroy relationships with the very people you love.

  To my way of thinking, all of this could be avoided by staying grounded and right sized.  The Terminator was bigger than life to start with, and my belief is, Arnold forgot who he really was and what was really important to him.  He made choices that fed his ego and separated him from his family and core beliefs.  And it cost him EVERYTHING.  How many times do we have to watch people implode, in public, when they just cannot or will not wake up??  EGO, EGO, EGO.  In this case, ego stands for Easing God Out.  You can, but it won't take you any place you really want to go. 

The Donald or Arnold

I'm not sure who has disappointed me more in the last week but it's definitely a toss up between those two nimrods.  The D isn't going to run for President in 2012 and while I'm heaving a huge sigh of relief, I'm saddened to think about all that media opportunity gone to waste...we all could have used a few more good laughs at The D's expense.  I think he pulled out because of his hair....he just couldn't take the pressure of the daily scrutiny, not to mention having to reveal a lot more personal information than he'd ever be comfortable with John Q. Public ever knowing.

And, Arnold....the maid?  C'mon....that's so old school...what were you thinking??  And to keep it quiet for ten years and then spring it on Maria, when obviously someone found out, and was about to tell all?  No wonder she packed up and left.  And how crappy of him to tell Maria after he'd left office, so he could use Maria as first lady all that time?   And the groping charges where Maria defended him.....sounds a lot like Hillary, doesn't it?  Wow....another zipper weasel gets caught.  His next movie will be "The Sperminator."

Decaf coffee and my server ? NOT.

My allergist has wanted me to switch over to decaf so that my sinus don't essentially expand and contract a lot.  OK, fine.  I get that.  But decaf in the morning is just NOT doing the job for me.  I've already had two cups and I'm as mellow and sleepy as when I first woke up.  And, truth be told....I even cheated and made it more like half-caff.  Between a very low carb intake and decaf coffee, I could just crawl back in bed for the duration and what I really need to do is get my gear on and go burn some calories.  I figure at this rate, my knuckles will be dragging on the ground by lunchtime.  Oh, well.  The crap we give up just to be healthy is astounding to me, and renders me one very dull and sleepy gal.

I realized last night after I'd hit "post", I'd forgotten to include a picture of the wild flowers at the Farm and it just so happens I have one with the newbie horse I'd been talking about--the same one who is currently being ostracized by the other three mean guys.  So, I'll include him here and you'll see why he doesn't deserve the treatment he's getting.  Even horses can be turds sometimes.  Well, crap.  And add my server to that list.  It won't allow me to post my horse and wild flower picture.  No carbs, no caffeine, no horse and flowers pic?  Really??  No wonder people go crazy.

I went by yesterday to see mom and as my sister and I were leaving, I told her "mom's lost more ground since last week" and my sister said "how can you tell?" and I told her, "I just can...she looks more blank to me and is talking less".  Then my sister said "well, she's been to church and out to lunch so maybe she's just over-stimmed and tired".  She left to go get mom some things she needed (I've handed her off my job, to take a little break ).  About thirty minutes later my sister called me and said "you know....you're right about mom."  When I went back to take her the stuff she needed, I told her you'd be back mid week to check in with her, and mom told me "well...Caroline was here earlier this morning"....    I'd... just... left.  Whoa. 

Welcome to Sanger

Just back from a lovely weekend at the Farm and one night just doesn't seem to do it for me anymore.  Once I'm there, I just want to stay and "chillax", to quote Benji.  Two nights is just purrrrfect.  The wild flowers were all over the pastures and I'm so glad no one has mowed them, as it seems has happened in the past.  Too beeeee-u-tiful for words.  There's also a new horse I'd never met before and when I hopped out of Fred's car, to have a little meet and greet, he didn't run, but he also wasn't real eager to visit.  I could have walked back down later with an apple, but  frankly, I didn't care all that much.  If he's going to hang with us for awhile, I can put more effort into meeting him next time.  Plus, by then, he may want an apple a whole lot more, since the other horses are giving him the stink eye and running him off.  By next time, I might look pretty good with that apple.  Since we felt sort of sorry for him being all alone, and since he was already in the barn corral, I talked Fred into giving him some oats, 'cause he looked hungry.  And the other horses didn't get any, because they were hanging out down by the creek, being mean. 

The Farm weather was chilly, so that your first cup of coffee was especially important.  And the second one, and even the third, and then I said to hell with it and just turned on the heat for a little toast up session.  Then I cut it back off after it warmed up more and propped open the doors.  Deeeelightful.
  For lunch, we headed into town to King's, newly re-opened and right off the town square-- a place we just love.  The food's great and we really like the couple who own and run it.   Then after lunch, while Fred checked out Radio Shack for some parts, the plan was I was going to wait in the car....that is until I spied a really cute store next door, that just said come on in and spend some money, honey.  So, I did.  I had stuck my head in Radio Shack and told Fred I was going next door, but when he came next door to find me, I was sitting down trying on boots, and he couldn't see me.  So, he went back next door to Chris at Radio Shack and told her "I can't find my wife".  Chris walked him back next door where I was, and shouted "Is anybody in here lookin' at stuff?" and of course, I stood up and yelled "Yeah......ME!!" and everybody in the store started laughing.  Fred... like... to... died.  Dontcha just love small towns?  To me they are just hilarious. Fred??  Not so much.  Plus, he had to buy me some boots.

2 new friends

Something serious must have gone down at Blogger since I've been unable to get on for almost 24 hours.  Weird.  In the time off, I've met two new friends, only one of which I had the opportunity to snap a picture of with my phone, so, with no more ado..... heeeeeeere's......... Dixie.  OK...if that didn't make you laugh then you're just one tough crowd.  C'mon...doesn't she looked thrilled to be all dressed up, and at North Park, no less??  And her owner said she's only six.  I thought she was a hundred.  She's probably just depressed.

I personally am all over her gun and holster, and her hat is a nice one, as far as dog hats go.  It seems her owner was there with her to drum up interest in a book he's written, in which Dixie stars.  With Sis in the chair behind me, I just hope she doesn't get a gander at Dixie.  I tried dressing Sis up once--and only once.  I was trying to make her a German Fraulein and when I put fake pearls around her neck, she bolted and the pearls went everywhere. If I wrote a book about Sis, it would be all swear words.

Once Fred cut up a white sock as a sweater for Wigman, when he was tee tiny and it didn't look so good either.  When we stuffed him in it, he looked like a little white German sausage.  And not in a good way either.  Wig was so unglued we took it off of him 'cause...hey....a guy can only take so much.  Then another time, I bought him a very regal purple velvet Christmas collar with bells on the points, and he looked like a court jester.  He was sooo miserable, I finally took it off because I thought  he might kill himself. 

My other new little friend lives in the next block down and is a "pocket beagle".  I swear I'm not making this up.  Sis and I made his acquaintance yesterday afternoon, while out for a stroll.  He was actually doing more "bucking" on his leash than actual walking, but he's little, so we need to cut him a little slack (leash pun).  He looks just like a regular beagle puppy--he's just supposed to stay small.  How small?  I dunno and neither did his mom, so we'll just have to wait and see.  He was her Mother's Day present from her three son's (I would kill mine) and while she was thinking more of a fluffy, girly dog, oh, noooooo.....the guys wanted HIM.  Some present.  The jury is still out on his official name until the two who are finishing finals at OU get home today, but I think it's safe to say his name is already Buckwheat.  Their other big beagle is named Spanky. 

You just hafta see it....

My best laugh of the day occurred last evening, while taking a walk with Sis and her Dad.  Those two never cease to amaze me.  Fred takes her over to the Church right near us, and lets her immediately off her leash.  They have this game they play, that I was not aware of.  You have to see it to believe it.  She gets to stroll by herself until she reaches a certain designated area-- the area right past the Garden.  Suddenly, it's game on.  She and Fred run, almost side by side, all over the yard and Sis watches him out of the corner of her eye, to make sure he's still running with her.  If he stops, she stops.  It's almost like it's choreographed.  I liketa died.  She won't really run unless he does.  It's not like he's chasing her exactly but more like they are running together, in tandem.  Seeing Sis run at warp speed is beyond hilarious.  That long body of her's and those little short legs can m-o-v-e.

Then they take a break, cut through the church, loop around the side, and go at it again.  By then, both of them are exhausted, so that's it for that game.  And she loves it.  Where the two of them come up with this stuff is beyond me.  Hell....I just walk her.... which explains why she always wants to walk with him.  And did I mention she gets all antsy and excited when it's getting close to walk time?  She does, and has been known to bark at us, to get us moving along towards the back door.  Now that I've seen their latest little game, it sure explains why I get that look, when he's not home, and I walk her.  It's clear I just can't please everybody but second place ain't too shabby.  And it means I don't have to run, either.  Yippee.

Hello, Italy?????

Italy, Italy, Italy.....while I sit here drumming my fingers waiting for a response to my emails, I keep having to remind myself that folks half a world away, don't get in the same kind of hurry we American's do.  Piddle, piddle, piddle.  And come to think about it, might they have a superior way of living??  Perhaps I need to start living more like they do and less like I'm used to, and enjoy the health benefits, not to mention just the sheer joy of a slower pace.  After all, what I'm waiting to hear back on is potential spots for a Rehearsal Dinner and menu possibilities, and as earth shaking as that may feel to me, it's just one meal.  Perhaps I need to throttle back and get over myself.  Yeah....good idea.

I don't know what shocked me more this morning.  The two headed baby born in China or Maria and "Ahnold" separating.  Both are sad and sort of shocking.  I'm always surprised when people separate after the 25+ year mark.  The first thing I think is...dang, by then you're probably past the hardest part of marriage and kids, but I guess that's not the case for lots of folks.  Maybe for the Tipper Gore's of the world and other political wives, they can finally get off the campaign trail and have a life of their own.  I can certainly understand that, especially with the ego's some of these political guys have shown.  I'd be out of there, too.  Enough is enough.  Buh, bye.

On a totally different topic, the three little monkey's and their parents all went by to see mom on Mother's Day.  Interestingly, my sister shared with me that Hudson picked up on the changes in mom immediately and felt sad.  And he's 5.  I hope I get this right but my sister said he told his mom that "Babe is different" and other than that, probably didn't have the vocabulary to say what else he felt, if he even knew what he felt, other than sad.  He was so intuitively correct, as the Babe he remembers used to come visit HIM, and have "Yifesavers" (Lifesavers) in her purse for him ALWAYS.  Now...not so much.  Because he's so tender, I told my sister that she had a great teaching opportunity and to call him back and explain to him what was going on with Babe.  I told her to tell him that sometimes when people get old, they need a lot more of our help, just like babies do.  I figured with two little sisters he'd get this part easily.  They may need more help walking, eating, or putting on their clothes.  And sometimes, they go live with other people, in a nice place, where they can all be together, and get the extra help they need.  She called him and they chatted, so I hope he's feeling better about the whole thing.  Ouch.  Pain at both ends of the spectrum.

And now for a good laugh...

Happy Mother's Day To All

I like to tell everyone Happy Mother's Day, even if my friend's don't have kids.  If they have animals, they have kids--just the four legged kind.  Sis got me a card and had her Dad fix me breakfast this morning, despite the fact she wouldn't come in the kitchen and give me kisses, which I thought was the very least she could do.  Nope.  Too busy.  She had to watch the birds and squirrels out the front window.  Bad on you, Sis.  As a loving mother, I still shared two bites of my turkey bacon with her.  A "mother's love is a sad love", as Fred's dad always used to say.  Sis also had a pre-Mother's Day bath, teeth brushed, and ears cleaned last night, so maybe that's why she still has some 'tude going on. 

Brian and Benji sent me some beeee-u-ti-ful flowers yesterday while I was making pesto, and I've carried them room to room with me so I could enjoy them.  I figure if I am fortunate enough to receive flowers, I want to ENJOY them, so I do.  If you wanted some and didn't receive any, do what any smart woman today does for herself.  Go buy yourself some.  You deserve them and you are worth it.  Splurge, baby.  Here's some from me, too.  

Yesterday's pesto making resulted in filling three of the small Glad containers, so I am set for a good while and I still have basil left over to throw in a salad.  I doubled the recipe so as to only have to make one big load.  The recipe says it's easier to make in the blender, but I disagree.  I start it in the food processor since it is so much easier to mix it in, than my blender.  My blender hates trying to grind up all the leaves and I end up repeatedly trying to force it to do it's job.  (You don't even want to know how many blenders I've burned out in 32 years, so let's just say, a lot.)  Once the food processor has done it's job, then I dump it all in the blender to get a really nice smooth sauce.  It's still thick, but the consistency is just better.  The food processor just doesn't seem to be able to get it as smooth as the blender, and if you put it all in the dishwasher afterwards, no muss, no fuss.

Actually, I learned an easy trick to clean my blender, on TV, so sometimes I do it.  Rinse out the blender container, and then add hot water about half way full and some dish washing liquid.  This is the important part: put your hand, covered by a cup towel on top, and hold tight.  Then hit blend.  If you fail to cover your hand with a cup towel or hold tight, you will really not like this.  Otherwise, it's great.  Let it blend for a few seconds, and then rinse out the soapy blender container and top, and dry.  Presto, cleano.  Or in my case, pesto, cleano.  :)

Pesto making time

Well....as pesto would have it, it seems my basil plants are ready for an early harvest and a round of pesto making, which suits me just fine.  I long since used up my last container from the freezer so it's time.  It's just so easy and yummy, and tastes good on anything from garden fresh sliced tomatoes to grilled chicken breasts.  Pasta isn't on my list these days so I don't even want to think how great that would taste.  I'm not sure what's up with my plants, but they are leaning over, so it's "hair cuttin'" time.  I can't wait to get my garlic cloves gently roasting in my skillet, and my washed basil leaves in the food processor.  Pour in your toasted pine nuts, almonds, or even pecans, garlic, and EVOO and some salt and pepper, and prepare for lift off.  Makes me salivate just thinking about it.  The house always smells like heaven after making a batch of pesto.

Today was a non-stop scour the city for something to wear for Benji's wedding in September in Capri, and I think I may have scored something, though the jury is still out until The Mole approves it.  (The Mole is my sister).  Sometimes I really need someone else's perspective before I definitely commit to something really important in the clothing world--especially something that will be forever captured in pictures and howled over, if it's atrocious.  If she gives me that look, I'll know I'm screwed.  You know the one I'm talking about.... when you can just tell someone's trying not to say "that looks like a bedspread on you" or " that would look really nice on  a sofa", and they're about to blow a lung trying not to laugh..  Which is exactly why I'm asking her.  She'll tell me the truth and she has no dog in the fight.

  I have no confidence shopping anymore.  I can tell you what looks awwwwful on me, but, hell, anybody can do that.  I'm just not always sure if something looks OK.  If you aren't rail thin and all shot up with Botox and facial fillers, I'm not really sure what a 57 year old woman is supposed to look like these days.  So, given that, I'm just going to be me and wear something I like, and most of all, feel good in, that Shamu could never squeeze into.  Unless Mole gives it the hook.

In a pig's ear and Thank you, Mr. President

In a weak moment at the grocery store Sunday, knowing Sis wanted something to chew on, I bought her a package of pig's ears.  Yeah, I did, and even I couldn't believe I did it.  They're in the section with the rawhide chews and I know not to give her those, so instead, I gave her something probably much worse and skankier--a dried, smoked pig's ear, (3/pkg), and she went into orbit.  She was so protective of it on Sunday that she wouldn't let Fred or me have it, when we asked her for it.  She didn't growl because she knew that would be it for her...but she didn't let us have it either.  By the time we finished unpacking the groceries, poof, it was gone.

Yesterday afternoon, while she was sunning herself in the backyard, I let her have the second one.  OOOO, la la....how great does life get?  A chewy delicious pig's ear, in the sun, in your own backyard and no one trying to take it from you?  Quite simply heaven. Since today looks like a instant reply of yesterday, weather-wise, somebody just might get lucky again.

On another front, I'd like to weigh in (a little dieting pun) on President Obama's decision not to release pictures of a dead Osama Bin Laden.  May I thank you profusely for that decision, Sir.  I don't know about anybody else, but I have no problem not seeing, and being protected from, that level of gore.  This is not an ER and believe me, that's not a picture you really want to see.   I also personally am not paranoid about whether Bin Laden is still alive.  And, I'm not worried about Elvis either.  I believe both of them have "left the building", thank you very much.  If you are like The Donald, you probably still don't believe the President was actually born in Hawaii, despite his birth certificate, and it follows logically you won't believe a picture of a dead Bin Laden either.  Releasing a picture wouldn't have convinced someone who is really paranoid, and might have endangered lots of others needlessly.  And hey...if you do think Bin Laden is still alive....pay attention to those voices you are hearing in your head.  They really are out to get ya.

Sis

After a long and busy day yesterday, last night I decided to lie down on the floor and stretch out my back, since it was hurting after exercising and just generally being o-l-d.  I don't usually lie down on the floor while watching TV but this time I did.  I no sooner got horizontal, than a fat black seal slithered over and laid her entire upper body across my face, so I could love on HER.  Seriously, Sis....I'm in pain here and it's all about you??  But then I got to laughing thinking when isn't it all about her??  That would be never.  And the more I loved on her, the harder I laughed.  Then when she got tired of that, she laid down on her back, right beside me, ears flopped back, snoot in the air, mimicking me.  I rolled over on my side.....she rolled over on her side.  She's a big spooner.  I don't know if it was the back stretches or Sister, but suddenly my back felt lots better.

She's back in her bed underneath the computer desk this morning since it's still a wee bit chilly and she hates to be cold.  This is her usual spot for this time of the morning and she is sawing logs, snoring.  Yesterday morning she was yipping in her sleep...perhaps she was dreaming she caught Bin Laden, being a seal and all.  Never mind the training.  Nah...she'd hate the military.  She doesn't follow orders.  Ever.

WOW

I don't know about you, but my head is spinning this morning.  Between the Royal Wedding and all of it's emotional sweetness, to the killing of Bin Laden, I feel like my brain has been put into a blender.  I never want to celebrate the death of anyone--even a murderer like Bin Laden--but I cannot seem to reconcile my feelings of relief, pride in our exceptional military and it's skills, and fear that retaliation isn't far behind.  Maybe I'm just in a little bit of shock.  Maybe it's the rain and morose look of today and all of the recent tornadoes and their damage, but it just feels like life is in overdrive.  Life's changes are moving sooo fast, and the highs and lows are steep. I can only imagine the swirl of feelings this latest news must bring up for families of all the 9/11 victims.

To all of those people who lost their lives on 9/11, and all of their families, my thoughts and prayers are with you today.