WAY cool

This was too cool not to report so bear with me if you saw it last night.  They had a report on the US horses competing in the Olympics, and how they get them to London.  Unlike Ryan Lochte, they don't swim there.  They fly FedEx in a special cargo plane, in a "pod"--one per horse--all decked out with food, water, fresh hay or shavings with a trainer or familiar love person right there with them.  All the horses are on the same plane so they can whinny and talk--just not see each other very well, but that happens in a barn, too.
  It actually showed a crane, lifting the horse loaded pod, swinging it towards a loader, and onto the plane it went.  OK....I now have a new dream job.  I wanna be a trans Atlantic horse babysitter.  How cool would that be?  You visit with your horse as you fly, eat, be sure they have food and water, love on them, and then go lie down on a hay bale so they can see you, and you snooze your way there.  And you get paid for it.  As long as they can see you, their good, and if they want you, you know their gonna whinny or snuffle for you.  Piece of cake. 

They also showed all the packing that went on per horse.  You gotta be kidding me...duffel bags full of tack, back up tack, medicine, extras of everything, and several boxes of Dominoes sugar cubes.  Once arrived in London, they have an interim stop for health checks, physicals, etc., and then horses get transferred to the horse facility at Greenwich Park, unloaded, and shown to their new barn and stall.  Because they can have jet lag, too, they travel several days ahead to give them time to acclimate and get comfy.  One US rider being interviewed on his way to the barn, as the horses were unloaded out of their pods said "It's the longest amount of time we've ever been separated, and I just need to see him", as he broke into a run to the barn.  He knew his horse would feel unfamiliar and even a little scared so he wanted to be there to welcome him and settle him in.  Don'tcha just love that??  I just melted.  I'd feel the same way, too.

But here's the coolest part:  They have high tech gear, too.  It's the horse equivalent of a compression suit, developed by an Australian company called Hidez.  It takes about 3minutes to zip all five zippers on, and thirty seconds to zip it all off.  It enhances blood flow, decreases muscles vibration during travel, and minimizes the rigors of travel and exercise on their bodies.  Cool, no??  But not so fast.  I have one question.  Do they have ipods?

                                         

Ahhhh....

 The plan is for Bruce to take some time off starting tomorrow, so last night I saw the purrrrfect opportunity to torture and pester him.  It's what I do best, after all, so why pass up a perfect opportunity was my theory.  So, I commenced.  I told him that since he was going on vacay, so was I.  He immediately wanted to know what that meant, and I went in for the kill.  I told him since I seldom cook on vacation, I was closing the kitchen, and we could spend all his time off, eating out.  Every meal.

Since the poor guy never knows if I'm serious or not, he tried not to barf his just eaten dinner all over himself.  I could only hold in my laughter for a little while before I lost it.  I DO plan to go out a lot--just not every meal.  Since his idea of cooking is usually to try to either use something I've already made out of the freezer or hand me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I know I won't get a lot of argument from him.  He's actually a good cook if 1) you remind him to WASH HIS HANDS 2) you can get him to actually do it.  His smothered dove are sensational. 

With a vacay in order, I may take some blog-free time off unless there's just something I can't resist yakking about.  We'll just see.  Not sure I can keep my trap shut that long.  It's doubtful I can.

Lastly, Fern, a follower of this blog, called my attention to Jacqueline Floyd's article on Water Hogs in today's DMN and it's a hoot.  It's so reassuring to know someone else obsesses over stuff like I do.

 And speaking of great articles, if you have the August issue of Southern Living, pour yourself a big iced tea and turn to the very last page and read Rick Bragg's article on Porches.   If you've spent anytime living in the South, you'll get it.  If not, poor you.

What's your moment?

Yeah, yeah......Ryan Lochte may have a patriotic Olympic grill, but so far, this is by far and away my most favorite moment, to date. What's yours?

The search is over

I've been on a mission for the last few days to find something-- with dismal results-- but today, Eureka!  I found it after lunch at an out of the way Albertson's.  I called one closer to us and they said they didn't have it, but the gal behind the fish counter at this one found the last bottle of McCormick's Lemon Dill Butter sauce, and I was beyond thrilled.  I carried it  above my head all the way to the check out, like the Olympic torch.  I do stuff like that when I'm especially excited and let me just say it felt like the damn torch, by the time I found it.  Fred always follows several paces behind me when I do stuff like that so he can pretend he doesn't know me.  Fine.  Works for me.  And he doesn't have to eat any of the salmon I fixing with the sauce either.  Ha.  Take that.  :)

I found another recipe on a blog I read and nothing would do but I just had to give it a try.  The one hiccup has been that damn sauce.  Yes, I could make my own but then that's not like the recipe.  Stay tuned as I plan to try it this week and I'll let you know if it was worth the search.  I'm thinking it can't help but be good on fresh, wild Atlantic salmon. Cooked on the grill.  With thin slices of lemon on top.  See??  Unless the sauce is nasty--which I will pretest-- it's gotta be good.  It's practically ordained.

Now I have to tell you about my DIL, Andrea.  You already know I adore her to pieces and what you may not know is that she's undertaken the job of painting their whole apartment--by herself!  With Benji gone a lot, she's gone from room to room, like a painting machine.  I got a text picture from her of two bathrooms and she's done a phenomenal job.  The problem is, now I'm getting the itch and once I start, I have to keep going or it's going to look terrible.  I have pitched the idea to my significant other that since we're not going anywhere on vacation, why don't we hire a painter, and somehow he just did not see the merit in that at all.  (Didja notice how fast I transitioned from me painting, to a painter?  Yeah, so did he.)  

I think I'll call the painter anyway, just to get a bid. 

Intuition...how's yours?

Intuition.  Everybody has it, not everybody pays attention to theirs.  Do you?  Or, do you poo-poo it?  I do, and it's seldom been wrong, and when something didn't happen that I thought would, it may have been that the timing I had was wrong, and it happened later.  Or sometimes, not at all.

When I say intuition, I'm talking about that sense of knowing something you don't know how you know, but you just know.  You may have heard that women have stronger intuition than men but I'm not sure about that.  I think women may just tune into theirs more or guys may argue with theirs.  Not sure.


Has yours ever told you not to do something?  Mine has.  Big time.  When I was pregnant with Benji, I had planned to try a VBAC--vaginal birth after a Cesarean.  My doctor was totally on board.  Then about four weeks before my due date, I started getting an overwhelming feeling NOT to do it.  The feeling was right in the back of my head and it just kept saying "don't do it".  No reason.  Nothing.  But boy, was it ever strong.  I finally decided to just go with the feeling.  My doctor was shocked, asked me why, and I told him "Something inside is telling me NOT to do this" and he said "Well, then we aren't".  He said when women tell him they know things, he believes them, so we set the date for my C-section.

Right after my doctor delivered Benji, he leaned over the screen and told me "I sure am glad you changed your mind about a VBAC.  Your old C-section scar on your uterus was already pulling apart and you probably would have ruptured."  That means he'd have had one HELL of a time saving both of us, as I would have been hemorrhaging, and Benji wouldn't have been getting any blood to his vital organs, either.  Let's just say it would have been a pretty fancy miracle if we'd both survived, and I'd have had a hysterectomy on the table to save my life.  When I was in Recovery post surgery, we laughed about how much he appreciated me not shooting his blood pressure through the roof, by listening to my gut.  You betcha. And that's not the first time I've known stuff like that, either.

Now I love to pay attention to my intuition to see how often it's accurate.  I consciously pay attention and if tells me NOT to do something, you can bet your bippie I'm not gonna.  Paying attention to mine probably saved two lives.  That's good enough for me.

How low can I go...pretty low

I'm just gonna throw down here so buckle up.  If mom knew I was blabbing this in public, she'd kill me with her bare hands but since she can't, I need to go ahead and just admit how low I have sunk.  I woke up the other morning with this as the only viable solution I could come up with for a rather delicate topic.  Old lady whiskers.  Before when mom went over to the big Edge salon, they would wax her lip and chin for me.  One of her main sticklers for me has always been for me to keep the whiskers at bay.  I'm serious.  You know how awwwwful older ladies look when they have white whiskers....it's just not a "grandmothery or even mothery" kind of look. It says loose, floppy, old lady house dresses, no teeth, and gumming your gums.  Oh, HELL NO.  The problem is, since she no longer goes to the big Salon, the lady who does her hair--Lana-- won't wax mom, or anybody else over there.  She's too afraid she'd hurt her and frankly, since her skin tears as easily as a wet paper towel, she's right.  But, we still have whiskers.  Plucking is really not an option either, since it takes to long, hurts like the devil, and I'm just NOT doing it.  Period.


So today I did the unmentionable.  I took a little Bic disposable razor over there and shaved all the whiskers off her chin.  I told her she had 'um, she'd hate 'um, and to sit perfectly still, and she did.  Off came the little orangey blade cover, and away I went.  The funniest part is, someone over there had beaten me to it.  I could tell because they were shorter than the last time I'd seen her.  I called my sister to tell her mom had just had a "whisker intervention", and her message back was not just AMEN, but Oh, My God, who's gonna take care of ours??

I think that's going to have to be covered for me in my updated Advanced Directive, or whatever document I can create, stating what I want as my Standard of Care.  A whiskerless chin??  Yep, that will be at the TOP of my list.

Holy, Shrimp Cocktail

I've been holding out on ya.  I forgot to tell you about the fabulous recipe I tried the other night for dinner that killed, it was so good.  I found it on one of the blogs I read, it sounded good, so I printed it and fixed it.  Some of it can be done ahead, and for a summer dinner--or even a lunch--it rocked my taste buds, and Fred's, too.

It was a Shrimp cocktail, but not just any old Shrimp cocktail.  It was a Mexican one like at Big Shucks.  It had cilantro, diced avocado, diced jalapeno, cocktail sauce with horseradish, Worcestershire, and lots of lime juice, scallion, cherry tomatoes, and even a little diced cucumber.  I cooked the shrimp ahead in order to peel, devein, and chill them after cutting them into bite side pieces, and them put everything together about 20 minutes before dinner.  If you aren't salivating by now, somethings wrong with you.  Cold, spicy, and served in a frosty glass with good saltine crackers, it was dinner, baby. ( Holler if you want the recipe and I'll shoot it to you.)

I realized yesterday I'm in a "weird".  Translated that means I've never felt like this before, but am paying attention to it, and following what my gut says to do, which is stay home.  Fred and I both have tried to think of somewhere we're perishing to go, that is worth the hassle of going, and both of us have come up empty.  For the life of me, I just cannot get excited about going somewhere.  Maybe it's due to all the craziness going on in the world, maybe some of it's due to mom dropping another chunk of weight (7.6 pounds) in the last few weeks, but I just want to chill at home, rest, read, and so that's what I'm gonna DO.  Right now, that sounds wonderful, so staycation here I come.  Maybe by Fall I'll feel differently.  Who knows?

Yesterday afternoon, I finally linked up with Hadley, to drop off some Popsicles.  I figured those could be shared and might feel good on her mouth.  Less fighting, more fun.  Right after I arrived, a little voice said "Mommy" from upstairs.  Nic and I looked straight up to see a naked jaybird Avery, dripping wet, who told her mom "I took a bath".  She immediately came down the stairs when she saw the Popsicles, wanted a red one, and then held it out and told me "bite it!", so of course I did.  When you are two, life does not get any better than a nudie Popsicle.

 

Here's Had's new smile, sans front teeth. 

Oh, Had...

Never mind what all else is going on, I'm so ready for the Olympics.  I'm ready for all the coverage of my favorite country in the world, and all the guy swimmers 'cause they all have some rockin' bods, and that's never a bad thing.  I love all the Equestrian stuff but they seldom show it at a time when I usually watch since I guess it's not a big TV watchers crowd favorite. The other sports are OK.  I just like all the people watching probably more and the behind the scenes stories about all the athletes.  Those always get my attention.

I am holding out a positive thought and prayer that all goes off smashingly well, with no political or "other" upsets.  We all need a chance to root for our country, enjoy seeing our competitors compete at the things they do best, and salute them for all their effort.  I cannot imagine all they've given up in order to be where they are.  I'd be way too lazy to do what they've done.  Sad but true.  Just sayin'.

On another topic, my sweet Hadley girl knocked out her two front teeth last night.  She had already almost knocked them out a few weeks back but last night she slipped, and that was the end of them.  Poor baby.  I may need to hit the toy store this afternoon 'cause well, that's just what you need when something bad happens.  You need some sparklies, some girly stuff.  Anything to take your mind off your mouth.  Yep.  Maybe I need to go NOW.  :))

Sis goes to Petco

We are just back from an after dinner run to Petco.  It seems a certain girl was almost out of food and needed some new toys.  When I caught her this morning chewing on the bread twisty in her bed (she loves those damn things), I had to pry it from between her paws.  At one point, she put her paw down over it, to try to hide it.  I told her dogs can go to Hell, too, just like people, and she let me have it. In addition to a 50 pound bag of old gal dog food, she got two mix and match toys with squeakers.  She needed a new super long bat dog but they were out.  Those are her most favorites.  A fresh new fake squirrel is always welcome in her toy box but we didn't see any.  A girl can never have too many squirrels.

We let her go tonight since she's been good, was bored, and we figured maybe we could avoid a walk in the heat.  When we arrived, there was one big yellow lab named Max running around with a giant--and I do mean GIANT--chew bone in his mouth.  He almost knocked Sis down but she managed to avoid him somehow.  After he left, she had the place to herself which roughly translated means, she could cruise by the open dog cookie bins and help herself.  Luckily, her favorite mint breath cookies were down low enough that she could snag one without much effort, and without calling much attention to her pilfering.  She thinks this is merely a self serve cookie buffet, and even though I know better, I still let her do it.  Some dog owners are just incorrigible and let their dogs do whatever they want, and I guess that would make me the bad owner poster child.  Well, yeah.

While her dad loaded up her booty in his car, we got in, and then he nearly killed her.  She had walked over to his seat and climbed up on his door's arm rest to look out, right as he YANKED open the door, and out she fell.  I liketa d-i-e-d.  Luckily, she's a tough old bag and was none the worse for wear, but I was none too happy.  Now she's back home, snoozing in the white chair, after wolfing down countless dog cookies.  For a certain girl, it's been a really good dog day.

                                           

Make it good

Given the fact that last week was a bit of a BEAR for all of us, I'm going to borrow a suggestion from one of the daily readers I read, and spend today "filling up my life".  I don't mean with stuff either.  I mean with kindness, love, and compassion, and being of service to other people where I can.  Yes, you can do wonderful things for yourself, too.  But more importantly, "go out and make positive use of your life".  Brilliant, no?

Help that old lady put her groceries in her car and take her buggy back for her.  Let someone go ahead of you in line.  Smile at someone who looks like they could use one.  Play with your dog and enjoy the time you spend.  Buy yourself a flower and put it on your desk at work to smell and enjoy.  Listen to your dog drink fresh water out of her bowl in the kitchen, and laugh at the slurps.  Call someone you know that's having a rough time, and listen.  Take dinner to someone who needs it or to an elderly couple on a budget.  Donate to the Food Bank.  Pay for someone else's coffee anonymously, behind you in line.  Give them the gift of wondering who it was.  Maybe they'll do it for someone else.

In short, spread the love.  Life is too short to spend it reading about atrocities and negative, soul sucking stuff.  You can, but why would you??

 That's me and my older sister playing bride at my grandparent's house.  See...I knew I could make you laugh.  Look how pissed off I am at not getting to be the bride.  If looks could kill, she'd be dead.  
 
** That's my mom's  portrait above us.                                                            

Mental Illness....tough stuff

I woke up this morning with a lot on my mind.  I hate that.  It's like my brain gets up hours ahead of me and starts thinking, before I'm even conscious, and then I wake up feeling anxious or sad.  Maybe you don't do that but sometimes I do.  Especially I tend to do it when life feels distressing (Colorado, mom's continuing weight loss, and someone I know who is a basket case, but is so "armoured", he won't get help.)  He's someone who is his own worst enemy and seems to enjoy it, on some level.  No, this person isn't family.  He's an acquaintance, and if I kick in my professional opinion, he's a real whack job (with blow potential).  He needs help and he needs it BAD, and since I can't do a thing for him other than pray for him, that's what I'm doing--just like I am for the Colorado people. 

I have the hardest time remembering sick people are sick people, and as much as I'd like to help them--or make them get help--I can't.  That is just not within my power.  A lot of people think they can force someone, but the truth is, they can't.  If someone doesn't want help, it's game over.  It 's the old "lead a horse to water" thing.  I can't make someone want something they don't want (health), no matter how much I wish they did.  Sucks, but it's true. 


Stepping back and allowing someone to be who they are, sure is a powerless feeling.  I keep thinking of the mom of the Colorado shooter, who is a Psych nurse, and knew when the Police contacted her, that they had the right person.  She couldn't force him to get help, though I'm sure she tried.  Man...mental illness is a real bitch.

Prayers are needed

My thoughts and prayers are with all of those people in Aurora, Colorado, and quite frankly, in the rest of this world.  Prayers are definitely needed. 

My first galette

The roof is done and I am thrilled.  They have one or two tweaks to do since they ran out of shingles and had to use another color in a tiny area.  A guy will come today to do that.  No more twirly thingies on the roof to let out the hot air.  We now have a more updated "vent", which I'm not in love with, but can definitely live with.  Once again, their clean up was meticulous.  When we came back from dinner, they had used their leaf blowers to blow the front porch and driveway of all that gritty shingle stuff.  It looked like the yard guys had been here.  I'm soooo lovin' that.  I only found one nail they missed up on the back porch, so I grabbed it.  I don't want to see that in my tire.  They had to do a tire change on their own truck yesterday in our driveway, since they picked up one of their own nails.  Booooo.  Hisssss.

I woke up to the sound of gunfire next door, which was nothing more than my next door neighbor's roof coming off, and their new one going on.  Hoooooleeee....loud much???  They are using a different company and even though they are moving, I hope they are pleased.  I'm a little nervous for their roofers to climb up on their garage to put on a new roof, since it looks like a stiff breeze might take it down.  We'll see.

My Freddys-burg peaches from my sister are small but yummy.  We had some last night with BlueBell vanilla because it's summer, and it's just the right thing to do.  Heaven knows I'm all about doing the right thing, dontcha know.  We still have a wad of them left, so I may try and make a rustic peach galette.  Like this.

Kinda makes your hear race, doesn't it?? 




Happy 85th Birthday, Mom!!

Naw..naw...naw...not again

I just suffered another Farmers Market flame out.  If you are going for anything other than peaches, you're good.  If not, hold back.  Not only did Mr. Lemley not deliver any on Monday, but they don't plan to have any for a few days.  I didn't even ask at Betty's but they didn't have any either.  I'm thinking the trees can only do their thing so fast, never mind it's not fast enough for Dallas County.  When they do have some, I hate to think of the pandemonium it will cause over a bunch of peaches.  Think Filene's basement in New York, and the Annual Running of the Bride's for marked down dresses, only this will be for peaches.  
 Now because I can't have any good peaches, I want them even more. I think I have the peach flu.

Mary, our next door neighbor called this morning to offer both me and Sis, a port in the storm from all the hammering, in the event we were going nuts.  She said to come on over and bring my book or whatever, and she wouldn't pester me.  I thought that last part was hilarious.  She said "I won't even talk to you if you don't want me to".  I told her so far, so good, especially considering the roofers have been temporarily pulled somewhere else and will be back later.  They are alllll most done, so no biggie.  I can easily deal with this peace and quiet.  If it does really ramp up this afternoon, Sis and I may just go visit. 

Last night, as I was watching TV, the cable started fading and then went kaput.  I went outside to look, and one of the older Hispanic gentlemen had removed our doodad so they could do the roof underneath.  I figured that was the deal but just thought I'd check.  I left the TV on so I'd know when he reattached the cable, and a little while later on it popped, followed by the doorbell ringing.  There stood the same sweet little man,  making sure it was all OK, and that I knew it was back on.  He's here today, too.  He's my favorite.

Taters...yum

Congruence.  It's my new favorite word.  It means: agreement, harmony, etc.  I realized this morning, I like it in almost everything but it's most important to me when I'm observing other people.  If it's there, I'm comfortable.  If it's missing, I'm on high alert.

When other people's words and actions don't match, they're sending me a signal that something's off, not quite right, funky.  With that knowledge on board, I'm careful, watchful, observant.  Once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern.  When I see a pattern of incongruence in someone's behavior, it's like an internal alarm system goes off--Trouble Ahead.  Make a Bat turn in your Batmobile, don't go there, run for the hills and keep on going. 

Today I'm so glad to have this knowledge on board.  It keeps me away from prickly situations and even worse, big trouble, unless I override my warning system telling myself "Oh, it's OK...that's not what I think it is".  Oh, hell yes it is.  I need to pay attention, and listen and learn.  Otherwise, I'll keep making the same mistake over and over again, missing the lesson.  Congruence: someone's words and actions match.

Now we have to talk about food for a minute, 'cause I want to.  The green beans and baby new potatoes from the Farmers Market were delish mainly because I cooked them anti Dr. Oz.  I ran by Tom Thumb and got salt pork, sliced up a third of an onion, put some water in a pan and let that all simmer together till it all made friends in the pot.  Then I threw in my green beans and new 'taters, and let them simmer for about 10 minutes before cutting off the heat, and letting it all just visit together.  I added some salt and pepper, stirred, tasted, added a tad more and let it all rest.  My salt pork came sliced like mini slices of bacon vs a chunk which was nice, and it wasn't overly salty, for once.  Lord, love me, it was so good I could taste Canton, Texas in every bite.  I caught Fred stabbing all the baby new 'taters (when he thought I wasn't looking,) but that's nothing new.  He was the one that wanted them when we were down there, so I guess that gives him potato snagging rights.

The roofers just arrived and I'm out of here for a little bit shortly.  I'll leave Sis in charge.  They sound like they are Sumo wrestling up there pulling off all the old shingles.

The Big 85

To be honest, I'm not exactly sure how this week's going to fly.  The roofers start first thing in the morning and luckily, I have a hair appointment later in the morning right around the time the noise would probably be getting to me--even with my hunting ear plugs in.  I figure between the Tejano music, accompanied singing, and all the hammering, a good three hours, and I'll be totally off my rocker.  My plan is to be real busy tomorrow so I'm not here a lot.  I haven't quite figured out day two (Wed.) of this roofing event, so stay tuned.  I know a chunk of that day is spoken for, so I may be able to give back my hunting ear plugs.  Not sure yet.


Thursday is mom's 85th birthday and I've already ordered flowers for her, from my sister and me.  I'll make a run over there to wish her a happy birthday--or as happy a birthday as she can have, given her situation.  That's also her hair day, so she'll be all gussied up and feeling clean.  Feeling clean just makes everything a little better.  Especially your birthday.

 While I can barely believe it myself, we've had yet another appliance death.  Our ice maker made it's last few cubes sometime over the weekend, and quietly slipped away.  I am happy to report that the repair man has been here and gone, and I just heard the familiar drop of ice cubes in a empty container, so we are back in bid'ness, yes, sirree.  Ice tea with no ice is, well......it's just wrong. 

I am peachless

This morning I was thinking how difficult it is to keep my heart and my brain in balance.  If either one gets out of kilter, I'm likely to be in trouble.  The problem is, my brain will lie to me.  It will tell me someone is doing something to me, and then I'll judge them and their action.  Whatever they're doing is usually not good or bad--it's my judging it that makes it so.  Hence, my reaction to them or the situation, is the problem.

My heart is just as dicey.  If I've let my brain run wild, my heart gets shut off.  Zero kindness, humility, or compassion.  If I let my heart run wild and don't use my brain for it's intended purpose, which is to discern instead of judge, I'm likely to get manipulated, controlled, or otherwise equally screwed.  Balancing both is the key, and that's no easy task.  It takes a lot of personal effort on my part and time spent visiting with my Maker, for both my brain and my heart to work in tandem, as they were created to do.  Yes, this a no, duh statement, but just try doing it.  It's a lot harder than it sounds.  Talks easy, works hard.

Lastly, on a much lighter topic, in the event you're headed down to the Farmer's Market, slow your roll, baby.  There ain't nary a peach down there to be had, but both Mr. Lemley and Betty's will have more tomorrow.  I got that straight from Mr. Lemley's mouth.  Some days are just like that.  Peachless.

Just chillin'

Yesterday I had a task to perform--one I was not relishing, so I decided to getter dun earlier, rather than later.  I needed to trim mom's toe nails.  Now, yes, I could have had them call the Podiatrist to come do it but somehow that seemed like a bit of overkill, for ten little toes.  Let's just say while it was not totally horrible, next time I think I may just let them call him.  Trying to trim ten, Hormel Lil' Smokies, swollen by poor circulation, is not a job I think I want to repeat.  Mom's leg muscles have contracted also, so trying not to hurt her, and trim effectively, is also a major concern, especially when you are her daughter.

It kills me how funny she is, especially in the morning, when she's fresh from a good night's sleep.  She may not be making much sense, but it's clear she's still in there.  By later afternoon, even after her nap, she's not quite as sparkly, and by evening, she's done.  And for that matter, I usually am, too.  I do like to go in the evening sometimes just to drop in unexpectedly.  That's usually when I've found something odd going on, so if you have parents in a similar situation, mix up your visits.  I want the staff to always wonder if I'm going to come walking in that door.  Hey, she's my momma and she deserves to have me watching out for her.  

Sis and I are home chillin' this afternoon while Fred and Brian make a run to the Farm.  Sis wasn't invited due to the heat, and the errands/stops they needed to make, so her consolation prize was a chew bone.  For her, that's like winning the Dog Lottery.

 With her and bones, she's totally different than Wigman was.  Where Wiggles used to carry his bone around, bury it, worry about it, bury it again, dig it back up, and finally chew the damn thing, Sis takes her's straight to her bed, and chews it to death.  There are usually two little pieces left over, and she's always real protective of those.  When I leaned over just now to love on her, she was guarding the two leftover pieces, and gave me the stink eye.  Seriously, Sis...I'll pass on your slobbery bone leftovers.  Yeesh.

P. S.  The peach pie is history.  We snarfed the last of it last night.  It was even great cold.

She ain't purdy but she sure tastes good

I think I have officially lost my mind.  This afternoon I got a wild hair to make a peach pie, never mind I've NEVER made one before.  I wanted to use the pie plate that Andrea and Benji gave me for Christmas so after looking at both Whole Foods and Central Market for good peaches, I finally decided nothing was going to work except a trip down to the Farmers Market.  And now, as long as I was going, I might as well get some tomatoes from the Lemley's, too.  It was just the right thing to do.

Now, on to the peaches.  The one I tasted was wonderful, so I got a basket of 6, and then six tomatoes.  The pie ended up being a bit free form.  I needed a double crust and only had made a single one figuring I'd just do it topless--the pie, not me.  But I finally decided that wasn't going to work, so I used the pie crust I'd made on the bottom, and here's where the story really goes off road.  I remembered I had a frozen pie crust from Tom Thumb--the kind already in the tin-- so out it came, and on top it went.  Yeah, seriously, I did.  I thawed it, and tried to get it to fit.  I rolled it, pulled it, pinched it, and finally I gave up.  I figured the pie was covered with the dough, and I'd cut slits, so where's the problem?  Just cook the damn thing.

Once we'd eaten dinner, I showed Fred my pseudo homemade fresh peach pie and told him what I'd done.  Armed with a knife and a still warm pie, we decided to just give it a shot and see if it was even edible. ( The thought of throwing all those hand peeled peaches in the trash just made me ill to think about it.)  So, I plunged in the knife and we each cut a piece.

OMG....it was the bomb.  It was w-a-y better than edible and I even caught a certain someone about to lick his plate.  A little while ago I went into the kitchen and found someone had been performing surgery on the pie, again.  He tried to tell me it wasn't him, as he was licking the cinnamon, vanilla, peach juice off his lips.  His whole self smelled like PEACH PIE.

I just hope there's some left tomorrow.   I'm eating a big old piece for breakfast, I don't care what anybody says.  With a big old cup of fresh, hot coffee.  It may look ugly, but now looks ain't everything, are the?

                             

Magic Eight Ball

I was talking to one of my friends today after a study bunch we attend on Wednesday's.  She knows all about mom--all of my close friends in there do--and she wanted to share a story with me about her mom, when she was dying.  I had no idea where this was going especially when she told me "Lots of people wouldn't understand this, but I know you will".  So, she sets the scene for the story, as we are standing outside the church where we meet, heading to our cars.  As her mom was in the process of dying, her mom went to live with my friend's brother and his wife, because he was a doctor, and they could accommodate her needs.  



She tells me how shortly before her mom died, after her mom had a horrendous day of torrential diarrhea and vomiting, the following day says, "I believe I'll have a ham sandwich".  My friend crawls off to the kitchen on her hands and knees, laughing so hard she can't walk, to make her a ham sandwich.  A ham sandwich after yesterday??  You gotta be kidding me.  But, her mother knew someone had brought over a honey baked ham, and she wanted a ham sandwich.  At this point, the absurdity of dying is unmistakeable.

Then she wraps it up with my favorite part:  somehow with her nieces and nephews in and out of their family's kitchen, and people coming and going, someone left a Magic Eight Ball on the counter top.  As her mom's condition worsened, the adults started asking the Magic Eight Ball questions about her mom, and she said the replies gassed them all.  After awhile, somebody finally asked the one they all wanted to ask but were reluctant to: Is mom going to die this morning/afternoon/tonite/today?  She said as awful as it sounds, it became the most favorite part of the day because gathered together, they would all laugh so hard at the responses: Ask again later.   Don't count on it.   Outlook not so good.   It is certain.   My reply is no.  Concentrate and ask again.  Better not tell you now. 

The moral of the story is, even a sad situation can be funny.  And now I really, really, really want a Magic Eight Ball.

                                 

Random thoughts

Last night I took a trip down memory lane by reading the blog I wrote almost three years ago, after Brian's motorcycle crash and 5 week stay at Parkland, and 4 surgeries.  There were so many funny experiences that Bruce, Brian and I shared, and some real not funnies, too.  I think the best part was just looking back, with gratitude, knowing we had been perfectly protected and cuddled in God's warm hands, the entire time.  I know it's weird to say that experience was a gift, but it was.  I sure learned a lot and I don't ever want to repeat it, either.

 After scanning through the DMN online this morning, I'm going to issue my alert to stay away from reading the paper, and to simply scan stuff online, if you do it at all.  And avoid the news on TV.  There's way too much negative stuff going on that if taken into your brain, will NOT serve you well, so do yourself a favor and don't.  Anything you really need to know will be given to you and the rest is just garbage.  Unless you picture yourself as a toxic waste dump, and you want more trash, don't do it.  Whether we realize it or not, we drag that nonsense around in our unconscious minds, if we allow it in at all.  No, thank ya.

Yesterday I got a real shocker.  Maria had called from Mexico, left a message, has not quit, loves us, still wants her job, apologizing for having to leave, and for not calling.  Jeepers.  After much thought, I called her home here and left her a message that we love her, too, that I was scared something bad had happened to her, figured she had either quit or was in Mexico, and I was afraid the drug lords had her.  Sorry but that's just where my dramatic brain goes.  I told her I wanted her to come back, but I had to have a boundary with her if she came back: she would henceforth call me when she couldn't come, or had to go to Mexico.  I told her I never get mad about her not coming--but I do end up mad when I don't know what's going on, if she's OK, etc.  I told her if she felt this was not something she could do, then as much as we loved her, not to come back--that of course we wanted her--but it was her call.  Blah, blah, blah...we'll see.  She's still in Mexico and didn't say when she'd be back on her message.  I'm betting it's this week.  Either way, I'm good.  I'm just NOT good with ironing limbo. 

Lastly, I finally saw Mary's bunny again last night after it ran from her yard to ours, and then across ours, after I flushed it out.  It was hiding in our bushes and I wanted to see it, so I gently started looking for it, and it took off.  It's the cutest, fastest, little gray cottontail with a fluffy white tail.  Puuuurfect Peter Rabbit look alike.  Remember this??

                                              

Buh, bye

Shooo weeee...looks like Tom had a lot more to hide than we even knew.  Otherwise, there's no way he'd have capitulated so quickly, other than to avoid all the negative pub and Scientology secrets leaking out.  Frankly, I'm glad.  I don't know and I don't want to know, all the gory details.  Just let Katie loose-- with custody of Suri-- and to get to see her dad about as much as she did when they were married--which doesn't sound like it was a lot--and we're good.  Case closed.  Gag order in place.  Confidentiality clause signed.  And life goes on.

Personally, I think there's a lot to be said for Prenups.  If nothing else, at least it speeds up the divorce process when one is upheld.  Frankly, I think everyone should be required to sign one prior to walking down the aisle.  Even an agreement to split things financially 50-50 would help.  You get one folding chair, I get one folding chair.  It sure would prevent all these long drawn out ugly divorces over money, that clog our court system these days.  And if you have kids, well....whoever decides to leave has to take them.  That would slow down a lot of people from hitting the marital eject button.

That's not my idea either.  A young couple on our block when we bought our first house, had that rule in place, long before their first child hit the ground.  They said it's what kept them together after their kids were born.  If you left, you had to take both kids with you and as far as I know, they're still married and their kids are grown.  After your kids are grown, I guess you've either decided you really do like each other or are just too tired to do anything about it.  :)))

I'm not feelin' the love

Man.  Rejection cuts deep.  I just took the risk and put it out there...all of it.  On the line, baby.  And I got the No, thank you.  It wouldn't hurt nearly as bad if it wasn't from a dog.  I offered to take Sis on a walk because her dad is at a meeting at the church.  I got her leash, the house key, and then said "You wanna go walking?"-- all jazzy, just like he does.  Only I got the big nuh uh.  She didn't look away but it was almost that bad.  Fine.  Be that way.  See if I volunteer to take you again.  Hell will freeze, girlfriend.  And snow pink.  A bunch. 

And if being turned down wasn't bad enough, it was the pitiful look on her face.  Like I'm some sort of repugnant stand in.  No, I don't run around after her, chase her, and make it all fun.  I just walk her.  I also notice when a certain bodily function happens and I actually stop; unlike someone else, and she still prefers him. 

Didja forget I'm the one who got you that new pink collar??   Yeah, that was me.

 
Well, my faith has been restored.  Her dad just got here and she wouldn't go with him either.  Her back may be hurting so he's giving her a doggie pain pill, wrapped in a little cheese.  Maybe I need to put her under my covers with me, too, for a little "pillow talk".  Sometimes when your back hurts, that really helps.                          

Scarletta Release!!

Last night, we were all set to sit down for a nice steak.  I had bought a package of 4 beef tenderloin fillets at Sam's, when I was there Friday for other things.  Thought that might be nice for the weekend.  Well, let's just say it was anything but nice.  The first bite of my steak was sort of OK and then Fred asked me if mine tasted weird.  It did, and then I pulled around on the meat with my fork, and it was gummy and sort of gooey...I kid you not.  I have NEVER seen meat like that in my life.  We both were completely grossed out and so mad, we took the meat--even the two fillets we'd frozen-- and went to Sam's.  Neither of us ate dinner after that.  The thought was too appalling.  OK...maybe a brownie or two, but just be advised to stay away from Sam's meat.  I think somewhere in the back of my head I knew this, and had forgotten that their meat is just "not right", and not worth the chance of getting Mad Cow, or whatever.  All I could think of was, what if we'd had friends over for dinner, and the steaks were like that....too gross to even contemplate.  It still makes me want to brush my teeth about 50 more times. Grrrross.

Now in case you missed it on FB, the world wide release of Scarletta's, Right Here, Right Now, is finally upon us--or them--and they're ready.  They have been traveling and promoting it like maniac's, so I can't wait for them to finally get to do it on a larger release scale, July 10th at 9 AM. Just a little plug there for my baby boy.  :)))

  Not sure of any of the juicy details but I'll find out from Benji and report back.  I don't know squat about the record business and am learning all the terminology.  It's fun learning something new.  

    
Fingers crossed!!                                                                

Stay tuned

I'm reading Catherine the Great (thank you, Adre', for the loan), I am at a really good part and I need to find out what happens.  If my Russian history was worth a flip, I'd already know exactly how this all works out, but then, I never took Russian history.  I'm waiting to find out exactly how she becomes Empress.  Does Peter (her turd husband) die, get shoved aside, is there a coup, what???????   Hence, I must go read.  And, my brownies just dinged.  Perfect combo for a hot summer day!

If you haven't read this, go get it.  I can't put it down.  It's a doozie!

Rockin' that pink

Sometimes I forget people are just people.  They aren't doing anything to me--they're just being who they are-- and remembering that sure makes life easier.  When I personalize something and make it all about me, Lord, love me....that can make for some powerfully tough sledding.  People just do what they do...kind of like cows.  Cows don't think about anybody but themselves and frankly, neither do many people, IMO.  I'm not grinding on anybody in particular today--just honing my awareness of human nature.  And animals.

And speaking of animals, Sis would like you all to know that she's wearing a brand new hot pink collar and she thinks she's simply stunning in it.  I tend to agree.  I wanted one that was even cuter--it had pink cupcakes on it--but all of the ones in her size were gone.  In fact ALL of the cuter pink ones in her size were gone, but I didn't tell her that.  One labile female around here is enough.  Her dad was worried I might have gotten her one with bling, but I simply draw the line at bling on my dog.  Bling is for poodles--not hunting girls.  Now, a hot pink camo would be fine with me.  Good luck finding one of those.  Uh, oh....look what I found.  :)))))

The top one is adorable!!

                                                   

                                                                  

    Camo AND bling.....???  Nah.  Too poodle.  W-a-y too poodle.  Fred would levitate. 

Happy Weekend!!                                                                                             

Post holiday confusion

I am always confused after a holiday--especially one that comes in the middle of the week.  Yesterday felt like a weekend so that would make today Monday, wouldn't it?  Actually, no.  More coffee is probably the best answer.  So glad it's NOT Monday.

Now, on to pressing topics.  The Holmes-Cruise divorce.  I'm thinking Katie has some serious dirt up her sleeve in order to even consider filing for sole custody of Suri.  She's probably going to tell Tom "Let me have Suri or I spill the goods--Scientology, your insane beliefs, etc.", which would definitely do major damage to action man Tom's career.  It would also blow the secrecy of Scientology w-i-d-e open, and Tom may not want that either, seeing as how he's a major domo in Scientology these days .  As a control freak, he's going to either ammo up ( no doubt he's lawyered up), or be smart, and walk away and make nice.  Doubtful his ego will allow that.  Boy, this is likely to get ugleeeee.  Either way, I'm betting we see and hear things that are guaranteed to make our eyes roll and our brains hurt. Whoa.

Chocolate chip Zucchini bread.  I made it, though I actually did muffins instead--regular size and the mini ones.  Meh.  Just OK.  Not all that-- by any stretch-- but still good.  Probably wouldn't bust it to make them again but if ya don't make them, ya never know.  Could have been faboloa; just wasn't.

If you didn't see on the news, and I believe in the DMN, there was a "Little People" Olympics or maybe just Games here in Dallas, and I nearly had a cow.  I don't actually know much about it because I hauled it out of the room when it came on TV.  For those not in the know, I am terrified of dwarfs.  Seriously, I am, and yes, I'm aware that's not PC, but fear just does not always fit neatly into the PC category.  It still freaks me out just thinking about a room full of them.  I got scared silly as a young girl and fear is not rational--it just is.  So there.  And if they're dressed as clowns (yep, the Circus ones), I'm going to freeze...and then run.   Years ago I would have never admitted it, but well, there. it. is.

You'd be surprised how many people are scared of clowns--lots of people are-- so don't go sashaying around thinking you're a big old grown up.  I know you're scared of something...the dark....booger man under your bed...weird sounds in the night?  See, I told ya so.

Lookey heah!

Happy 4th to ALL and look what Brian and his pals found last night on the back porch, again, at the Farm.  Yuck.  That's Brian's friend, Scott, holding the dead snake.

           
 And look at this sweet baby girl at the Parade.  Adorable if I do say so myself!

Have fun and be safe out there!!  Kabbbboooom!!
                                                   

   
Here's a Big Sister shot that just came!!  I couldn't leave her out!  No way!                                                                                           

Happy 4th!

Here's what's going on around our neck of the woods.  Senora Maria has gone AWOL again and it might be for good, this time.  She is not in good health and may not want to officially pull the trigger on quitting, so "disappearing" may be easier.  Don't know.  She also could come breezing in the front door one afternoon soon, but I doubt that.  I have called and left her a message, with no response, which pretty much tells me she's adios.  Ahhh, well....life is just full of change.

I'm thinking the roofing that was to have possibly started this week is not going to happen--more like next week, since this is a short week.  We've picked out the shingle color already so our part is done. My sister and I are going over to visit mom this morning and to take her a 4th of July hydrangea to brighten up her room.  Sis wants to go, but since she's asleep, I'm going to slink out of here and just not tell her. 

I just found out Benji is heading to Cancun' with Bo Bice this weekend, which totally gives me the willies.  Mexico, now??  Yikes.  You couldn't pay me to go right now, given what all is happening in that country but then I'm not a musician.  I adore Mexico but I'm not heading back until all the drug cartels are gone and that'll be like never.

I am, however, thrilled to report that our neighbors have a solid contract on their house AND it's to a young couple from Lake Highlands with a 15 month old, and a new one still in the hopper!  How great is that?  New smalls right next door.  I met the mom yesterday, welcomed her to our block, and told her I was an old baby nurse, so I think they'll be a great addition to the block. 

I'm thinking about making chocolate chip zucchini bread this afternoon because I just want to.  I've never made it and I think it's high time I road test my recipe.  Sometimes you just hafta do stuff.  :)

Happy 4th!!

Random thoughts

I had three little post swimming lesson visitors on Thursday.  Adorable as always, Hudson wanted to play on the computer, Avery wanted to sit with him in the big black office chair, and Hadley....well, let's just say her day was not going her way.  I'm not sure if she didn't feel well or was just being a grump, but either way, she was not a happy camper.  I figure at almost 10:30 AM, and three kids, if two out of three are happy, you're doing great.  And speaking of swimmers, here's one of a certain someone, sans suit, but cute as ever.  I think the goggles definitely add that certain something, don't you??

This may be one of my more random posts simply because I have several things to say and no way to link them all together, so here goes.  If you haven't read Steve Blow's article in the DMN, read it.  Thank you, Steve, for being the voice of reason in an otherwise insane squabble.  For all the Chicken Little's out there who think the healthcare sky is falling, read his piece, and take a deep breath and r-e-l-a-x.  What looks like a disaster often turns into an opportunity--for the better.  Try to keep an open mind (even if it gives you a headache.)  Contempt prior to investigation, instead of giving something a chance to work,  is nothing more than arrogant ignorance--kind of like hating chocolate because it's brown.  You don't know what might work--you just know what you think you don't want.  There.  I said it. If you weren't pissed off before, you probably are now, but seriously..... let's all play nice together, and work together, for the best possible outcome for everyone.

Now on to stuff that gives me the creeps:
1) pictures in ads of ice cream--it's really mashed potatoes and that just ruins it for me
2) pictures of guys modeling underwear--especially the grabber kind--the looks on their faces just doesn't fit the pic--like they don't realize they're in underwear
3) pictures of supposedly grilled chicken that's gross white, doesn't look cooked, and has fake grill marks
4) guys who shoot squirrels in their front yard, and then let their dog carry the dead squirrel to the trash