58 is great

There's so much great stuff to be said for being the age I am.  Gone are my younger days when I was trying to please other people, look skinny, be pretty and captivating, and make life look easy when it really wasn't.  I also had to be smart or at least have other people think I was.  The volume on the internal dialogue in my head of "not skinny enough, not smart enough, not whatever enough" has been turned down now to a level where I almost can't hear it anymore, and for that I'm grateful.  I'm at an place in my life when I've never been happier, never been more fulfilled, never been more sure of all the things I don't know, never had more fun, and never been more grateful.

It's no longer important to me to look like the gals in magazines and I'd much rather look at design magazines than clothes any day.  Today I'd rather have great friends, great conversations, great experiences, than "stuff".  I don't need to compete with other women over anything, and if they want to wear gorgeous, expensive, painful shoes I say go for it, and I'll wear my comfy flats.  No judgement, no criticism.  Gone are the days that if something is uncomfortable I'll still buy it because it's what everyone else is doing.  No thank you. 

I love how it feels to know who I am, and know that what I just said reflects exactly how I feel.  In my youth, I'm not sure I really knew how I felt very often and when I did, there was usually a lot more underneath the surface that I was completely unaware of, and did not know how to access.  Today, lots of life experience and  hard work has given me an understanding of myself and how I operate--good and bad.  The dumb stuff I've done or still do, I laugh over (or try to), where earlier I would have chastised myself over and over-- about something I can't change.  Instead, I've found peace and serenity I never knew existed.

Today I feel younger and "lighter" than I did a decade ago.  No more dragging old stuff--like a backpack full of rocks.  There's simply too much to learn, to look forward to, to understand.  I don't want to waste a second. 

Happy middle age to all who qualify.  I wouldn't go back if you paid me.

Bring on Summer

Since today marks the one year wedding anniversary of Kate and William, I think it's only right that I wish them a hearty congratulations and many more happy years to come.  Talk about a stunning couple who somehow just seem to always get it right, and be good sports when asked to do something like wear a cowboy hat, in Canada.  Since this is also the year of the Queen's Jubilee, I hope we see a lot more of them.  They are fun, funny, and a great team, unlike previous royals.  What a breath of fresh air for the Royal Family and us.  Well done, Kate and Wills. 

Now speaking of the Jubilee, it's occurred to me that I may need to read the new book that's out on the Queen in order to be 100% ready to celebrate.  With the Jubilee and the Olympics in London, I may be glued to the TV this summer and why not??  I can't think of a better place to be than inside when it's blazing outside, and pretending I'm in London minus the crowds.  Lovely.  And I may need to assess my tea supply as well.  Andrea had a simply gorgeous shower that was a tea and one of the teas served was a pear caramel.  Sounds awful but it was sublime and quickly became my favorite of the three they served.  They carry it at Whole Foods in the event you want to try it. 

And speaking of weddings, I realized last night that it was around this time last year that Andrea and Benji decided on their wedding plans, and ditched the Dallas Do.  What a fun six months that was from planning to the actual event in Capri.  I swear I think part of fun of any trip or in this case a wedding, is all in the planning, dreaming, and anticipation of the actual event.  I spent hours diddling and piddling, thinking about it and enjoyed every single second.  I also realized it was around this time last year, plus or minus, that we moved mom over to the Memory Care Unit from Assisted Living at the Plaza, and that she's now been there longer than any other move in the last three plus years.  Man...she was a rolling stone for awhile.  Looking back, I was one busy gal a year ago.  When I look back over what all has transpired over the last few years, I can hardly believe it and laugh thinking no wonder I'm tired.


I don't know about you but I am ready for summer.  I love that relaxed laid back pace, the smell of magnolia blossoms, yards filled with mounds of impatiens, pots filled with sweet potato vine and other colorful plants, little kids playing in their front yards watering each other with the hose, and catching lightening bugs at night.  Oh, wait...maybe that was us. 

Yesssss, muther

I'm going to make this snappy because time's a wastin'.  I ran to the book store and I have three new books, and I'm itchin' to get started.  So, I will.
Happy weekend to all and use your sunscreen, please.  Melanoma is NOT your friend.  (Always the nurse :))

                         

Update

A quick update this morning and not good news on either count.  First, mom continues to slide downhill.  She has now lost 30 pounds since January and though this is the natural order of things, it's still lousy in my book.  A downward trajectory is just not pretty.  The Hospice people continue to be fabulous and we are blessed to have them.  Yay, on that score.

Secondly, around 4 AM I heard a certain black girl dog barking in the backyard --her hunting bark--and a teen age looking opossum bought it, after getting chomped by Sis.  I think it had gotten into the poison the bug guys keep in dog proof boxes in our backyard, for just this reason, since two others of the same size died earlier this week, without Sis's help.  This is just too gross for words where I am concerned.  Rodents and snakes are just ick and I hate both. 

Since we cannot end on a negative note--it's just not the way to start the day--I am happy to report that my first brisket a la Big Green Egg was delish.  Next time I may cook it 30-45 minutes less but whatever.  I'm always picking, and my internal need for perfection is just silly.  Good enough is good enough, right?

I am off this morning to a meeting with a friend who had a stroke several years ago, and who I haven't seen in ages.  Since she cannot drive anymore, I'm picking her up shortly.  It should be great fun, so I'm outta here!  Happy Thursday to all and just remember, it's almost the weekend.

I vote merger

As I have admitted before, sometimes I am hopelessly naive so here's my quandary for today.  In all this American Airlines bankruptcy and re-org business (and or possible merger), why is it the little guys who always take the cut?  Why do the fat cats upstairs in management get to keep slicing the pie bigger at their end, and smaller for the pilots, flight attendants, and baggage guys?  Yes, I realize a merger with US Air will create less alternatives in flying (fewer flights) and higher ticket prices, but the mean old badass in me wants to see the AA upper management be forced to take one for the team, even if the end result is I get the bill.  I guess I'm just really sick of all the small players getting less than.  We see it everyday.  I guess I should be used to it by now and maybe that's part of the problem.  We see it so much that a lot of us don't even question it anymore.

  No wonder all the flight attendants, reservation people, and ground crews have "Air rage"..wouldn't you?  No, it's not OK to take it out on the public, but have you ever had to work, day in and day out with some of the people who are flying these days?  Some days it's like a flying Psych unit. Customers scream at you, cuss you out, throw things at you, minus the psych unit restraints and meds.  And that's before you've even left the ground.  Then there's the people in their pj's carrying their pillow.  Put on clothes, please, or stay home.  Day in and day out, that will take a toll on you.  And then you get another pay cut--or get furloughed.

Frankly, maybe it's just where I am in my life but I think there's a LOT to be said for just slowin' your roll.  Back in the 60's and 70's, air travel was more of a luxury-- and it may well become one again.  If so, OK.  So we stay home more.  Or, take more car trips, gas prices willing.  Big deal.  The bottom line is, what's going on now sure isn't working,  and American has proven over and over they do not know how to run their company.  Maybe it's time to give someone else a chance at it.  Let's see what a fair and equitable solution might look like.  Oh, I'm dreaming again, right??

On a happier note, look who is puffing away in the backyard, loaded with a brisket.  Oh, yeah, baby.  Now that's happiness!

                                                              

Be Careful Who You Feed

This is one of my favorite stories so I thought I'd pass it on.

 One evening and old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside of people.  He said, "My son, the battle is between 2 wolves.  One is Evil.  It is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
The other is Good.  It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth,compassion, and faith.
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf wins?"
The old Cherokee simply replied "The one you feed".

                             

Don't be Fooled

Today's post is a blast from the past.  Hope you enjoy it.

I heard a great story the other day that is a great metaphor for life.  A group of people had gone to an alligator farm and after taking the tour, stopped off to look out across at the gators from an observation point.  Along the opposite bank lay lots of enormous gators and others not quite as big.  Beside them was a sign that stated:  Do not be fooled.  They aren't sleeping.

People stood around and watched and the gators really did appear to be sleeping.  Not a single one moved. After a few minutes, a guy decided to see how close he thought he could get to the "sleeping gators".  He climbed down over the railing, giving his camera to a friend.  I guess I don't need to tell you what happened.  They weren't sleeping.

How many times in life is there a sign that clearly tells us not to be fooled by something, and then we go right ahead and do it anyway.  Just remember:  They're not sleeping.

The End.

Ahhh....fishin'

With Senora Maria in Mexico for the last two weeks on an unplanned visit, I am staring at a mile high pile of laundry that needs to be ironed.  I've attacked it once, when I thought she'd be back last week, but oh, my, how clothes multiply.   I saw a friend at the grocery store earlier--the one whose daughter had the liver transplant--and she suggested I iron outside as a way to make it more fun.  Sounds good to me.

                        
I have it on good authority that a certain short guy, one Hudson Groth, is down at mom's old fishing club (Coon Creek) with his dad, and caught his very first fish at the Spillway!  This is especially important because that's where his daddy caught his very first fish.  And...the torch is passed.  Everyone in our family has their own favorite Coon Creek story--me included.  Some I can tell, others not so much-- but just know they are all the stuff that makes family smile those knowing smiles, and scream out laughing over others.  It seems Hud and his dad are there with a friend of Hud's dad's, and his son, so that equals four times the amount of trouble they can all get into.  I know this for a fact.  I can do the math easily on this one. 

Brian came by Friday night to pick up our old washer for his next Farm Blow Up-Fest and he might possibly score his Aunt Margie's old one, too, since her's just got a toe tag.  Man....what is it with all these appliances going down the tubes at once?  Guess it's the appliance law that they must die in pairs.

I have a huge brisket thawing that quite simply needs to jump aboard my big green egg.  It's just the right thing to do.  Considering it's as hard as our driveway, it may take a day or two to thaw, but that's OK.  I'm not in a big rush.  I have to go find the recipe for the rub I put on the last one, that I really liked.  Now if I can just find it. 

OK...I've stalled enough.  Time to at least go iron a few pieces (eye roll).

Unnnnbelievable

I have to say that the recent revelation of our Secret Service guys and Colombian ho's, has shaken me to my core.  And I say guys simply because no female SS agents were involved.  (Duh.)  Sometimes, even I am shocked at my own naivete'.  SS agents??  The cool guys in the shades and ear plugs who will take a bullet for those they have pledged to defend?  With Colombian prostitutes and then not paying for services rendered?  I know that doesn't even touch the list of transgressions, but what in this wide world is going on?

Slimy, much??  And how about just out and out stupid.  Guys thinking with their you know what.  Never mind the possible implications and danger to a world leader in a country well known for it's drug cartels and murderous dealings.  Huh???  Who do you guys think you are???

And the Old Boy mentality is particularly abhorrent.  I've made no secret of the fact that I cannot stand Sarah Palin, but for a SS agent to post on his FB page that he was checking her out??  That alone should be grounds for immediate firing.  You can think it, but for heaven sake, how dumb are you to post it...on a social network, where the entire world can read it??  And smirk about it. 

                                              
Clearly the SS needs a thorough house cleaning, as does Washington in general, our Military from top to bottom, both political parties, and let's just throw in the world in general, in case I missed anybody. 

Note to the world:  Grow up.

Oh, Shucks

Today  I have such a dastardly job to do that I might just have to leave early to go do it.  I'm tryin' to whine here.  It seems my services are needed to meet an AC guy up at the Farm on Friday morning, and since that's really tough duty, and seeing as how much I hate going up there, I may need to shag on out of here early this afternoon, and go spend the night.  By myself.  That way I'm there when he arrives on Friday.  Tough job, no?  Am I convincing you??  Nah...I didn't think so.

With weather like this, I can hardly wait.  Throwing those doors and windows open, and letting in that fresh air just makes me want to throw my head back and squeal like a piglet.  The only thing that could spoil this is an uninvited guest, so don't even say the word raccoon. My plan is to take up more rose fertilizer, the big clippers, work gloves, and my pink John Deere hat (thanks again, Jodi) and head down to the little house and do some clipping, assuming I can clip the things that need it.  Last time, some of the branches were so large, I couldn't squeeze hard enough to cut all the way through them.  Then my significant other told me to "use my legs", to which I nearly sailed a pair of clippers in his direction. 

The word is, the AC guy is likely to take hours.  Maybe even all day.  Fine.by. me.  I'm sure I can come up with something to do.  I might even zip in and grab some lunch at King's and pay a visit the Purple Umbrella.  They might have gotten in a little somethin' I need.  If I don't look, I won't know, so I better stop in.                                       

 I'm thinking this little outing couldn't have come at a better time because I think the heating element just went out on our dryer, and a certain someone is likely to not be in a very good mood when  I tell him--especially considering we just bought a washer last week.  Yeppp...time to head out.

Since I am computer-less up there, I'll check back in on Saturday.  Enjoy your weekend and remember, it's all in the little stuff.

RIP, Dick Clark.

 

I sooo love my friend

I am just not sure what to do.  The gardenia bushes we planted a year or so ago just look terrible....they look like someone sprayed them with napalm.  They are leggy and they try to put out leaves and then the whole branch dies.  Then, other branches are doing just fine.  No bugs that I can tell, so after putting on my stethoscope, I'm diagnosing soil issues, because I can't think of anything else--even after reading several planting manuals.  I think I'm going to loosen up the soil, add compost, manure, and acid type stuff to it and if that doesn't do it, after blooming season, I'm taking the clippers to both of them.  That's my usual solution--bloom or else.  I think a little pressure is a good thing.  Even for a bush.

What fries my bacon is, that around the block, at the house the bunny loves, is an old established gardenia bush that never gets any attention, gets white flies on it's leaves, and still blooms.  They key may be "old established".  It's not the same species as mine, and that may also be part of the problem.  The flowers aren't super fragrant, and are smaller, but they are OK, so I may be back over there snitching from that bush.  No one is living there right now so I may go over and throw the old girl some fertilizer, give her a big old slurp of water, and see how she does come blooming season. 

Now on to yesterday's lunch.  I was invited over to a friend's house in Oak Cliff for lunch and to say that it was a total blast really doesn't cover it.  She is one of my most favorite people and her home is to die for.  It's up on a hill, almost all glass, and warm contemporary with fabulous art everywhere.  I felt like I was up in an incredible tree house.  She has several seating areas outside, one on a lower level with a koi pond adjacent, and the feeling is just other worldly. 

And her kitchen....omg.  It's a chef's kitchen--you should see the drawers for utensils-- and her pantry.  Just incredible-- and can she ever cook.  We had her homemade pizza, a salad that I could eat right now, and wonderful cheese and nibbles to munch on, while she put the finishing touches on the pizza.  I had to laugh...here was my friend with her pizza peel, all loaded and ready to slide off on her 500 degree pizza stone, and she slides it off  just as easily as the guy at CPK.  Please....she made it look so damn easy and I happen to know it's not all that damn easy--especially with an audience!  And it fit purrrrrfectly on the stone.  Now, in case you aren't drooling yet, here's the kicker:  it was a rosemary chicken and shallot butter pizza--cooked. to. perfection.  Cake balls were dessert. 

Did I mention she is beautiful, tee tiny, and rides motorcycles with her husband??  Thanks again, Jodi, for an incredible lunch, but more importantly, for your friendship.  You rock, sister.

Shhhhhh!

Suffice it to say, I am not a first thing in the morning smiley face kind of gal.  I need a cup of coffee and some quiet time, before the smile bursts forth on my face for the day.  Someone else around here who gets up before me just cannot remember this.  By the time I'm stirring, he's all jived up from listening to The Ticket, and is ready to take his own show on the road.  It's all I can do not to chop his head off when he's all shot out of a cannon first thing in the morning.  And when it's gorgeous and all cool and springy outside, let's just say he's all that to the tenth power. (eye roll and head shake)

That said, since it was all cool and springy outside, we slept with our windows open.  Since I knew Sis might be chilly, I invited her to come slide under the covers with me this morning.  This doesn't happen every day but when it does, Sis is just like her BF--all shot out of a cannon-- until she calms down.  She wiggles, her tail thumps non-stop, and she licks your face every few seconds.  She just can't help herself.  It's pure dog joy.  Since her ears were chilly, as was her suit, we spooned for awhile and once she totally calmed down, we were back to back, warm as puppies in a dog pile. There's just nothing like warm dog smell first thing in the morning.

And if that wasn't wonderful enough, I cooked the rest of the bacon we had left over from the weekend--the good peppered bacon from Virginia.  Oh, yeah.  Extra crispy.  Sis nearly swooned....bed and bacon???  Her day is made and it's not even 10 AM.   

                                                               
Do any of you know anyone who is a Nook reader, other than me?  I want to find others who can be a part of my network.  Let me know if you know of anyone as I have books I've already read and would love to share.  Kindle people won't work--they have to be Nook people.
                       

 Happy Spring day to all.                                                  

Weekend wrap up

Mary is outside right now in her back yard dead heading some of her spent roses, so Sis decided she needed to go "help".  Sis loves nothing better than to go over and snoop around in Mary's back yard and truth be told, she adores Mary.  If Mary's outside, she'll watch her every move and if she comes over on our side of the driveway, Sis will whine to go greet her.  It's a good thing Mary loves dogs since Sis has been known to jump up in her lap--all 21 pounds of herself--and try to lick Mary's face.  Mary doesn't care and laughs knowing she is loved by at least one enormous slick black girl.  They are quite a pair.  Mary said she fertilized the heck out of her roses and it shows.

I went heavy on the rose fertilizer myself at the Farm a few weeks ago on these formerly not so lovely gals, and they seem to be hitting the comeback trail.  They took a real beating in the drought, even though the sprinklers reached them.  In that drought, I don't think anything could have gotten enough water.  I plan to feed them again when we are up there next, to give them enough juice for the summer.  A couple of them didn't make it so I may have to get one or two to fill back in on the other side not pictured.  Between new mulch, water and fertilizer, these girls have no excuse not to look purdy.

                             
Here is a shot of the culprit of the Raccoon caper, and notice the giant catfish pictured on the bag.  If you think  that catfish looks big, you should have seen the raccoon.  I thought raccoons washed everything they ate but I guess when you are hungry, nasty old fish food doesn't count.

 Lastly, the front pasture is beginning to pop out in wild flowers and I'm hoping in another week or so, we'll have a great display.  Bruce's brother, Neil, mowed the back pasture Saturday, and the result was a pasture that looked like soft green velvet.  Gorgeous in the extreme.  I don't think the cows minded it either.  Now they can just cruise around munching that fresh mowed grass or even eat lying down.  Now that's what I call livin'.                                  

Enough on the women bashing

Have you noticed that everything today is women's fault and while that's not a new concept, it sure is an old saw.  We're supposed to work, we're not supposed to work.  We're single parents because some no count man walked out, and that's our fault, too.  We're taking jobs away from men, but a lot of no count men don't want to work, and that's somehow their mother's fault AND ours.  And it's not just men bashing women.  Other women are doing it, too.  If you raised five sons, you didn't "work".  If you married someone who didn't need you to help with finances, so you could stay home, means your job was somehow less valuable and everything is all your fault.  Seriously...is anybody else getting sick of all this sh**??

The reality that no one wants to face is that this country is in some serious trouble, and blaming it on any one person (President) or group of people (women, gays, Hispanics, or either political party, etc.) is just ludicrous.  Nobody in Washington wants to tell the truth about anything--they jut want to hide behind smoke and mirrors via their spin doctors. They figure if they can manufacture something negative about the "other side", they can win, and the scary part is, it's worked.

   The bad news is, the people most capable of handling these "small children" are those who know them best and can spot their shit from space--generally females (although there are some males who can do this, too, just not as many.)  I'm suggesting we fire Washington, and everyone in it.  Send them all packing-- straight home to their rooms-- and ground them indefinitely.  They can never to run for any elected office again, and will receive no pensions, period.  I don't believe anybody deserves a pension for ripping off their constituents or not "playing nice", whether male or female.  Yes, some people who have "played nice" will get punished, but that happened when you were a kid, too, didn't it?  Your mom stepped forward and rather than spend a bunch of  time and energy finding out who did what to whom, she just punished the whole lot.  And it worked, didn't it??

Now just stop for a second and ask yourself who exactly was smart enough to figure all this out?  Yeah, a female--your very own mother, no less, so enough on the women bashing, how about it?
And that's just how I see it.

The back porch AGAIN

Back home from the Farm after one night of an "interesting" weekend.  Right around 5 AM this morning, I kept hearing a noise outside right by the Master bedroom window, sort of a repeated flappity-flap, flappity-flap.  The wind was blowing at gale force but this was something else.  Sis wasn't barking but I thought I'd 1) get up and let her out so Fred could sleep in and 2) find out what in the world was making all that racket.  I should have stayed in bed.  I'm probably going to need a cardiac work up after what happened.  I stepped out onto the porch and I flipped on the porch lights, half blinding myself, so I flipped on the yard lights, and that's when Sis went into attack mode.  While she starts barking her shocked, scared bark, out flies a raccoon who immediately jumps up and clings to the screens, on the screened in porch.  And did I mention it's pitch black dark, except for the lights in the yard, and both of us are half asleep??  We're talking horror movie here.

                                          
Knowing raccoons can tear up a dog, I shooed Sis out in the yard and ran yelling like like an Apache, for Bruce to grab his gun.  I never call him "Bruce"-- but I bet I yelled his name fifty times in under three minutes.  You'd have thought my hair was on fire.  By the time the gun was loaded, the raccoon was back in the woods and I was a complete maniac.  I could barely speak. It all happened so damn fast.  Let me just say,  I DO NOT like to have the pee waddily do scared out of me.  Ever.  I hate being scared like that.  I was so jazzed and full of adrenaline afterwards that it took me an hour to go back to sleep. 

It seems the culprit was a giant sack of catfish food (it goes in the feeder on the dock) that was left out on the back porch.  It was all the come hither that raccoon needed, and I do not think this was his first trip to the back porch diner.  How that raccoon got out, I do not know--probably the same way he got in--but from now on, if I hear something, I'm NOT going out there.  Nuh, uh. 

Remember, now....this time last year it was me, Sis, and the snake on the back porch.  Something is just wrong with this picture.

Let's hear it for Naps

Today I ran by briefly to talk to mom's Nurse Manager.  I wanted to see if we couldn't get her started on a NSAID (like Aleve ) for all day pain relief from her contracted muscles and arthritis.  Since she's starting to close up like a clam shell, I want to keep her as comfortable as I possibly can and coherent.  Stronger meds right now aren't needed.  When I peeked into her room, she was on her bed, windows slightly open with a nice breeze blowing in.  Her aide happened to be in there, too, checking her phone but shoot, I never care about that.  If she's in there with mom, taking a brief break, who cares??  I sure don't.

It's funny how much mom reminds me of childhood.  Naps in the afternoon, a cool breeze whispering over you, as your mind wanders, right before you fall asleep.  My people are nappers from way back so we speak the nap language.  First, you never get under the bed covers.  You lie on top, covered with a special nap blanket or you slide under your duvet, unfolding it to keep you nice and comfy.  Extra pillows that will get in your way are stowed on the chair beside you, so that when you get down to putting your head on that soft, cool, pillow you have lots of room.  If it's cool outside, opening the window is a plus but if leaf blowers are blowing, maybe the white noise machine is a better choice.  And maybe your ceiling fan on low, if you like a breeze.  Ahhh...are you feelin' it yet???  Night, night.
                   

                                             

Easter's past

Now that Easter is done for this year, I have to admit to a certain amount of nostalgia surrounding Easters in the past.  The one with just Brian, with me pregnant with Benji, across the street in the old rent house while we remodeled this house.  Brian, dressed in his pj's, bear claw slippers and bear hat, running all over that gross backyard, hunting eggs.   The ones down at Coon Creek, when the Easter Bunny hid the golden egg in the minnow bucket down on the dock or up high in the Magnolia tree, that the boys never could find.  There was also the year we decided to put out the eggs late at night, so we could sleep in the next morning.  Not one of our better ideas, considering the late night critters who came visiting. 

This morning  I was reading another blog where the mom was describing their family's Easter just past.  She said there were too many egg hunts, hyper sugar overload, and by Saturday afternoon, her husband told their kids he was going "to shoot the Easter Bunny and that he wasn't coming the next day."  As a mom, I could so relate, and laughed my head off.  Those are the days I do not miss.  Suddenly, up came the memories over who found the golden egg, who didn't, who pouted, who gloated, and two parents that were tempted to go fix a Bloody Mary and let the kids fight it out.

Next came the memory of our old Supper Club egg hunt at a friend's house, where adults became little children again, hunting eggs all over their house.  It didn't last long, but while it did, we were nothing more than large children, squealing, laughing, and loading up our baskets.  Never mind dinner, we all sat down to open all our plastic eggs and check out our candy haul.  And eat it. 

So fun to be a kid again.  Try it.  You'll love it.     

Ode to washing machines

Yesterday my washer was pronounced not worth saving so knowing that my oldest son had recently purchased one, I texted him to find out where he'd bought his.  Big mistake.  I was told I "needed to shop around, really look, negotiate, and take about a week before I made my decision".  By this point I was howling.  I asked him exactly how many washers he'd bought in his lifetime.  Silence...then laughter.  I told him I was buying one that day, that I knew what I wanted, and since this was washer # 4 for me, that I thought I could handle it. Even me... feeble minded old May-May, could sort this one out.

Then last night he called about something else, but asked if I had found anything.  I told him "Yep.  They are delivering it Thursday."  Whaaaat?  Then much laughter.  We discussed price, features, etc. and I was finally told that he thought I'd gotten a good deal.  Glory be.....  I told him I was not going to drive the thing--I was just going to wash clothes with it, so after the decision of agitator or no agitator, it was a quick decision from there.  But here's the funniest part.  He wanted me to be sure and not let them haul off my old one.  He wants to blow it up at the farm, like he did his old one. Be. my. guest.

Washing clothes is one of my most favorite things in the world, because it says all is right with the world, and you will shortly have clean, fresh smelling clothes.  For the longest time, I thought I was the only person who felt that way.  After a little research, I found out I am one among many who feel that way.  When my laundry is all done, and put away, I can handle just about anything.  It's that neat, straight, clean thing.  I feel at peace with the world and all Zen.  See why I had to have that washer pronto?  It's a quality of life issue. 

Stuff

I'm about to be naughty but I just cannot resist.  Several days ago I saw where Kim Kardashian was rumored to be dating Kanye West.  Just the mere thought of this made me laugh.  She has gone from a serious train wreck of a marriage to Kris Humphries (that she's not even out of) to a nuclear explosion, in Kanye.  Girl...give it a rest.  Your picker is broken and in desperate need of repair.  Quit. Quit. Quit.  Get some therapy and find out why you are doing what you are doing, before you trash yourself anymore.  For an intensely beautiful woman, she's got absolutely no self esteem.  I guess that's what happens in "the business".  You just make one bad choice after another to keep your name out there.  What a sad, sad, way to live.

OK.  Enough romping on Kim.  I am sad to report that the transplant Dr. Fred and I attempted with the huge Carolina Jessamine plant from my dad's office, has lost it's battle to live.  Despite water and root stimulator, it got a toe tag.  Considering we had to cut two huge tap roots to get it out of the ground to transplant, that's not real surprising, but we'll try anything once.  It's out front for "visitation", lying by  the curb, waiting on the big trash pickup later today.  A stiffer corpse you have never seen.

Finally, my baby boy is set to have his eye balls nuked mid-May, after being tied to contacts since third grade.  He just had to have contacts to play Y football, so I let him.  Yesterday, he had his eyes dilated, examined, and mapped at the Vanderbilt Eye Clinic, in order to determine if he was a candidate for surgery, and what the best procedure might be for him.  The funniest part is, he can't wear his contacts at all for several weeks prior to surgery, so he's sporting a cheapo pair of prescription glasses from Sam's or somewhere, until surgery.  I was about to post it here but it looks like something that belongs on the Post Office wall, or at the FBI.  He said after they dilated his eyes yesterday, they were out of Stevie Wonder disposable shades, so he had to drive home, squinting.  Baby...it's just always sump'in. 

Gone too soon

RIP, Denver Moore.  Same Kind of Different as Me and What Difference Do it Make. 

Both made a lot of difference to me.  Thank you, Denver and Ron.

Well, Hellooooo, Gorgeous

Oh, yes, I did, and it's in the refrigerator getting all cosy with it's sliced banana and vanilla wafer friends.  (Daley, if you are reading this, stop NOW or you are going to get hungry. :)  Better yet, if you want some, call me and I'll run some around the block to you.)  I had wanted to make this for awhile but had not let myself, so yesterday afternoon I... just... did.  Today is EASTER.  That's reason enough.

The first time I read the recipe, I nearly passed out.  I don't have diabetes but after reading it, I began to wonder.  What you can't see underneath all that creamy wickedness, are layers of sliced bananas and loads of vanilla wafers.  And you just think that is regular banana pudding, don't you??  Well, think again.

It's called Not Yo' Mama's Banana Pudding, and honey, it isn't.  Considering it's a Paula Deen recipe, I tried to cut every corner I could, but sometimes you just have to live a little.  My concessions were reduced fat and lower calorie vanilla wafers, and light cream cheese.  Oh, yeah.  I'm serious.  And did I forget to mention it has sweetened condensed milk in it, too???   She uses Pepperidge Farm shortbread cookies instead of vanilla wafers, but I didn't have any, so I went with the usual.

Are your pants suddenly getting too tight?   Yeah, mine, too.  Now, with the crab cakes a la Rex's resting in the refrig, I have only the cocktail sauce and garlic mashed potatoes left to make, and to finish off the broiled tomatoes Brook Hollow.  These are a particular favorite of  Fred's and mine because the tomato halves are marinated overnight in Italian dressing, then fresh basil, marinated artichokes, and bread crumbs are added before broiling.  Easy, but tastes like you slaved. 

I'm watching the weather outside to see if we are going to eat inside or out.  I washed down our outside eating area yesterday with car wash and wax stuff.  I thought that was a particularly brilliant idea for a wash and a shine, and because I couldn't find anything else that seemed better.  Now the table, chairs, and stone banquette are all clean and I only need to whip out the pillows and cushions, if we go that direction.  Flowers are snipped from Mary's yard, so we are "systems go", either way.  I'm leaning towards the outside venue, so we'll see if the weather cooperates.

 Time to go peel potatoes so Happy Easter to all!!

A girl can dream...

Last night as I was fixing a Panini for dinner, I started planning my perfect kitchen.  Things I would just have to have.  First was a built in Panini maker hidden away, but always plugged in, ready to roll.  None of this "butt in the air on my hands and knees stuff", trying to find it and then hauling it up to plug in.  Nooooo.  Ditto a large coffee maker for weekends (also hidden and built in) but I still want my Cuisinart Keurig for every day.  Hey...this is my kitchen--fix your own.  Drawers need to pull out for me to reach my pots and pans.  Awww, hell...EVERYTHING needs to pull out, a la' drawer.  I want an organized knife drawer with those wooden do-hickeys that hold your knives upright, so they don't flop over and I want separate drawers for different sets of flatware, all neat and organized like Martha's.  In fact, let's just cut to the chase. I'll take her gray kitchen right now.  And I want all her stuff that's in it, too.  All ready to roll and her appliances, too.  Hey, this is pretend so I can do that.

Or maybe this one.

Or this one.

And as long as we're pretending, I want the rest of my house all org-ed (organized) like hers, too.  All my sheets ironed and spritzed with lavender or lilac water, with my shelves all lined in that beautiful shelf liner paper that smells like heaven on Earth.  And my closet.  My clothes would all be separated by season and only this season's clothes would be visible.  Of course, they'd be organized by color, hung on oh, sooo perfect hangers all facing the same direction, and Sis could even have a bed in there, so she could rest, while I shilly-shallied around acting like Lady Astor.  I might even have a chaise, too, so we could read together in there.  And a built in refrigerator in case we got thirsty, or needed tea or coffee.  Dang.  What do I need a kitchen for?  I may never come out of my closet.

 

Hunting on Good Friday? tsk..tsk

I just finished watching a video on how to make Lion House rolls.  They are supposedly out of this world and  are known for a special way they are wrapped, that makes them distinctive.  And gorgeous.  OK.  I'm in.  I have to try that.  It's on YouTube and only takes about three or so minutes to watch but now you know the problem....I want to go in the kitchen and try to make them.  With Senora Maria here to clean, that's totally counter productive, especially when you see how this lady slings these rolls to wrap them.  If I do decide to make these, the backyard might be a better location.

With Sis' boyfriend home for Good Friday, she's in heaven.  They have already gone to shoot squirrels x 2...on Good Friday, no less.  I did point this out, only to get a whatever look from both hunters.  Let's now make that three times.  There's one at the base of our tree and Sis just flew out the front door, squealing and barking.  For an old hunting gal, this is just as good as it gets.

I noticed on the Internet that the lady who claimed she was one of  the big Mega Millions Lottery winners "lost the ticket".  Eye roll.  You lost the ticket...sure you did, honey, and I'm the Easter Bunny.  Let's all go out and enjoy this gorgeous day, and Happy Easter to all.

                                                  

Craaaap

This morning I woke up sad.  Man, I hate that.  It will pass, so for the time being I am just sitting in it.  I used to try to run from my feelings if they were uncomfortable.  Today I know better.  Feeling them, honoring them, and then letting them pass, is the way to go for me to handle them these days.  I'm thinking the no puppy news and watching mom die, coupled with the latest two books I just read where someone or something died, haven't helped either.  Coincidence??  Nah.

Just typing this made me start laughing.  Mom is NOT dead yet and Sis is sitting in her favorite chair in the other room, waiting for me to ask her what she'd like to do this morning.  Because it is beyond beautiful outside, we may just head out shortly and take a walk.  Or, we may head over to Mary's yard and cut roses for the house.  We have 100% cutting privileges so I'm thinking that might be fun and Sis loves going over there to snoop.

The reality is, grief is just a process.  It takes time.  Lots of time.  Yes, there are things I can do to feel better like journaling, making a gratitude list, going and doing for others, to get out of myself.  But sometimes, I just need to sit in my stuff and wait for the feeling to pass.  That's the part I hate....I'm not a good waiter.  I just want to feel the good stuff and fast forward through the crummy part.  I'm guessing that would make me human. We all get our lessons through pain--not when things are all rosey.  Man...whose idea was that.

Puppy update

I just heard back from the breeder and my gut was right.  Either Blue Bell lost the pregnancy or was never pregnant.  No puppies.  I think that's it for me.  Yes, she has a daughter of Blue Bell delivering in May, but I think this is just done.  Case closed.  When something isn't meant to be, I've learned not to try to force it.  Forcing anything is a recipe for disaster.  So with that, I will go hug on old lady Sis and move on.  Once again, when I really listen to my gut, it always tells me the truth. 

Long live the Queen.

Gray Living

Yesterday was designated Adventure Day for me.  I'd had a visit to McKinney, Texas, on my Bucket List and decided yesterday was the day to go, so off I went.  There was a particular store I wanted to see, Gray Living, and then I spent the rest of the time cruising in all sorts of stores until the rain started.  Yes, I knew it was supposed to rain but that usually doesn't impact me much.  Gray Living was well worth the trip and I WILL be going back.  It's the kind of place that makes you want to go home and throw a live grenade in your front door.  I was practically drooling as I strolled around.  They should hand out bibs at the front door.  I knew McKinney was a darling little town--I just didn't know how cute until I went.  Getting there is a breeze, so by all means go.  It's a great girls outing and day long adventure for those that shop 'til they drop.

Once the rain slacked up I decided to head home, and had been home 5 minutes when the sirens started wailing.  I was totally clueless about the tornado threat (quit laughing) and had a marvelous time.  Clearly, God takes care of those who don't listen to the radio.  Sis and I discussed getting in my closet if things got all quiet and weird, but that never happened, though it sure did for a lot of other people.  Watching the news later, I was very grateful that I left McKinney when I did and that I had not been flying down Central Expressway during all the tornadic activity.  (Spell check says tornadic is not a word--I say it IS.) 

No word on puppies despite my email to the breeder.  She either has nothing to tell or is busy being a doula (delivery support person for a mom) to Blue Bell.  My gut says there is not a blue and tan male in this litter and that's OK.  I'm not sure the timing is right anyway.  If I ever do hear from her, I'll let you all know.

Princess Grace

I went by yesterday to visit mom and take her an Easter lily.  We had a good visit and I told her about Benji and Andrea's trip to the Middle East, though she kept thinking I'd gone.  I told her about their camel ride and Benji's Turkish bath story, which made her laugh so hard she coughed.  She lives for stories of her grandkids and they usually have some great ones.

  Anywho, on my way out, I ran into the Nurse Manager and she wanted me to sign off on an idea one of mom's caregivers had.  Florina is mom's favorite caregiver and this gal is a dynamo.  She works two full time jobs and is still the kindest person to ever walk this earth.  Anyway, here was Florina's idea.  She said getting mom up, and dressed in the morning, to breakfast, and then back and undressed for the Hospice lady to bathe mom, is just too much for mom.  Throw in the fact that mom's arthritis is worse in the morning, and none of this sounds fun at all.  So, she wants mom to have breakfast in bed in the morning, with help, followed by Tylenol, and then she can be up to be bathed and dressed, when the Hospice lady comes.

I nearly fell down I was laughing so hard.  So, what's the downside, was all I could think.  IF you have EVER met or known my mother, you would know she would LOVE this idea, so of course I said yes.  Years ago I used to refer to mom as "Princess Grace", so this made me laugh even harder.  Everybody should have breakfast in bed, IMO.  Especially a Princess.  :)
             

                                                  

Easter week already??

It's hard to believe this is the week of Easter.  Time seems to be just screaming past.  I feel like I'm going to blink and it will be summer, and that's probably exactly what will happen.  I got a call yesterday from the Memory Care nurse in charge saying that mom was having trouble swallowing and she wanted to have mom's doctor sign an order for mom to have a soft diet.  For those not in the know, as Alzheimer's progresses, difficulty swallowing and a risk of choking go right along together hand in hand.  With the choking part, comes and additional grim tendency towards aspiration pneumonia.  People choke, inhale, and suck whatever is in their mouth, down into their lungs.  Sorry...I'm a nurse, so we tend to tell it just like it is and sometimes it's more than you wanted to know, but there you have it.  Once you have food particles in your lungs, it's hello pneumonia.

We discussed going straight to a liquid diet, but if they do that, oftentimes people just quit eating, period, and I totally get that.  Pureed food is just a nasty thought and I'd almost want mom to quit eating on her own rather than offer her that goo.  I can just see the look in her eyes if I tried to sell that idea.  She already puts her hand over her mouth if it's something she thinks is Ewwww.  I know I could sell the idea of chocolate milkshakes or chocolate "sofa's", from the HP Pharmacy, so I may try that.  Mom named chocolate sodas "sofas" years ago and I don't really know why.  Probably because she knew she'd be as big as a sofa if she had them too often.  Maybe I can see about them making her a milkshake occasionally. 

Lastly, mom has been stuck on talking about the Dallas Country Club for the last week or so, and I'm not sure why.  Maybe that's where she thinks she is when my brother comes to eat with her on Friday's.  For whatever reason, it made me laugh, and that's good.  The funniest part is, we were never members of the DCC.  We were members of Brook Hollow.  Mom used to think she was at St. Marks when he came.  Man, she's getting around. 

No puppy news yet but it can't be long now.  Blue Bell is going to explode if she doesn't have them soon.  I went online and found a gorgeous male, 6y yr. old black and tan for adoption, over the weekend.  He and Sis would have looked like bookends.  I heard back yesterday he'd already found his forever home.  Good for him.  His name was Shadow.  Sounds like a lap dog to me.  Purrrrfect.

Let's blow 'er up

Gorgeous day and out to breakfast at John's cafe.  What a perfect way to start a day.  Now it's on to the backyard to finish planting the flat of impatiens I got Friday and partially planted yesterday.  Somehow spritzing up my yard just says Easter, and almost summer.  While Bruce went to the Symphony last night with friends (I hate classical music for longer than about 10 minutes and this was 2.5 hours worth--no way!), I stayed home and finished my book, Chosen by a Horse.  To say I sobbed through it would be an understatement, but it was well worth it.  If you've ever loved an animal--any animal--this one was a doozie.  The writing was so raw and honest, tears were the only way out.  Ahhhh...nothing like a good cry to relax your mind, body, and spirit.

I have it on good authority that Brian and his band of buddies took his old washer and dryer up to the Farm yesterday and blew them up.  No kidding.  I thought the plan might be to use them for target practice but apparently that wasn't thrilling enough.  They needed to go bigger.  Much bigger.  So, they blew up the first one and decided while it was exciting, they really needed to double the amount of explosive for round two.  I'm thinking the Drag Strip down the road from the Farm is wondering where in the world all the metal came from, but as long as Brian and company cleaned up the mess at our end, it's no worse than other activities that have taken place up there.  And, no, I'm not telling what else I know.  :)

Here's the before.  I'm not sure there was much left for an after shot.  Boys and their toys.....oh, my.