Attention Lurkers...

I know you're out there, because, well...Google plus a few other regular readers tell me you are.

This is Mossy, btw

And to you I say, "Howdy do and welcome!" (Gettin' my Georgia-thang goin' on...)

Anyway, I'm glad you're here, but I want to ask you a favor...

Could you, pretty please, post a comment every once in awhile?

No, it's not an ego thing...it's more of a connection thing. See, I used to be a lurker on several of the blogs I read, but when I took the plunge and commented I managed to make many interesting/talented/funny/inspiring friends, most of whom I wouldn't recognize even if they crawled into bed with me. (Not that I allow strangers in my bed...)

You can comment anonymously or through a variety of on-line venues. You can make up whacky names for yourself, you can relate your own experiences, you can reveal as much or as little about yourself as you feel comfortable.

I promise I won't stalk you, try to sell you something, or forward email to you.

Regardless, though, of whether you do or do not comment, stay tuned, because I have 3 or 4 more posts rattling around in my head!

(Oh, and those ads hanging out on the sidebar? They're there on a trial basis...so if you really hate them, let me know and I'll see what I can do).

Radar Love

Recently I’ve heard and read a variety of mothers of young children lamenting the fact that they are never alone in the bathroom. I don’t think there is a mother alive that cannot relate to having the pleasure of a tiny human keep them company while they do their business. Upon reflection, I’m fairly certain it was at least 10 years before my own mother, with four children and one bathroom, got to enjoy a bath without, at some point, a pair of big brown eyes staring at her from the seat of the toilet.

This morning, after reading one such blog post, I headed to the bathroom for a shower and realized that although my own child no longer follows me to the bathroom, I almost always have company. My potty stalker is a blue-eyed, long-tailed, pointy-eared kitty boy named Sam.

Several years ago my husband, daughter and I were enjoying a cool evening on the patio with a fire in the chiminea. Out of nowhere my husband declared to our daughter, “You know, Anna, if your mother were invisible we’d still be able to find her.” We followed his gaze to the patio door where three furry soldiers were standing at attention.

While all our cats have exhibited some sort of pussycat sonar, Sam takes it to a whole new level.

He follows me to the bathroom EVERY time I go in there, regardless of my trip’s purpose. He comes in under the guise of needing a drink of water from his glass on the vanity. Sometimes he drinks…sometimes he doesn’t, but Sammy always sticks around for the duration…usually standing very still and staring at the mirror. 

And it’s not just the bathroom.

Fur Face has some kind of freaky feline GPS going on.

I could go for hours having not seen kitty boy, but he suddenly and silently materializes whenever, and everytime, I do the following:

Get out of bed. (Bam! Sammy at the bedroom door.)

Sit down. (Poof! Sammy in my lap.)

Walk into the Kitchen. (Voilà! Sammy at my feet.)

Enter the backyard while he’s in the front yard. (Presto! Sammy at the back gate.)

It would not surprise me to discover some sort of clandestine Kitty Intelligence Agency feeding info into Sam’s ear via a well disguised ear piece as to my exact location anywhere on the planet.

Either that, or I’ve been chipped.

Kitchen...then and now

Well kids, the kitchen is mostly finished. Somehow, a cabinet door beneath the sink is MIA. It's actually a 2-door space, and we have one of the doors, so now we need to find someone to match it. I'm telling you, there was some crazy crap going down in this place before we bought it.

So here are a few before shots of the cabinets. The pictures actually don't capture the complete hideousness, so you'll have to trust me on this. Also, make note of the ug-tastic hardware.

See that hotplate? That is what I used to cook on until the walls and cabinets were finished enough to have appliances delivered...fun times. Notice, too, the paint supplies on the counter and the dishes drying on the side...maddening!













Here's more!

And, yeah, the wallboard...yikes!

















And this!

Now, look closely here...see all the little pinholes? This a house-wide problem...someone had issues...just sayin'!














Now...drumroll please...here are the after shots...

Much better, yes?
Say yes...





















And, the other side....

The kitchen has a pass-through into the living room, which I love. Sammy also has discovered the couch on the other side of that wall gives him easy counter top access...which I don't love!












Now, when I visited in May, this is one of the very first things I declared that absolutely had to go....

I know, I know...too cheesy for words, right?















Well, that light fixture is now this....

Sorry about that blinding light in the corner...but you gotta admit, this is much better!













Next up on the redo list? The bathrooms! As I told Mr. B a few days ago..."those bathrooms creep me out!" Oh, and the tiny pinholes in the kitchen cabinets? They are NOTHING compared to the pinholes in the walls in the master bath. I just spackled those today. Don't worry, I'll take pictures.

Someday, we'll figure out what we're going to do about the paneling...

The Very Definition of Hell...

Matthew 13:42: "And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth."

And I’m referring to…

Car shopping during the great heat wave of 2011.

Okay, let’s say used car shopping.

The story is thus:

While her father and I were out running amok on the high seas, Anna was here in Georgia babysitting her pets. Before we left, though, we had budgeted some cash with which to replace her car, the fabulous and much celebrated, Little Red, who was becoming a hazard through no fault of its own (insert grumbling and mumbling about idiots who think they’re mechanics).

The plan was to have her look for cars of interest while here, and upon our return she and I would spend some time checking them out. If we found nothing here, I would begrudgingly drive her back to Missouri where we would continue our search.

We drove all over Northwest Georgia and the experience was, well, rather frightening. The big dealers had nothing in our price range, and the used car dealers were seedy little enterprises stocked with cars which very clearly appeared to either be stolen or repossessed. (Baby seats and other personal items still inside). Oh, there was the cute little yellow VW Beetle with a smiley face painted on the side, but they never returned our phone call.

Sooo, off to Missouri we go. Ten hours later, at 5 pm, the thermometer on my car is reading 105 degrees!

The shopping began in earnest the next day. Let me just point out for the record that every car lot in central Missouri is a vast desert of hot, steamy concrete. The whole time I was there the temperature never dipped below 103 degrees.

Okay, so the adventure begins with a cute little red Chevy 5-speed and a nice salesboy, obviously smitten with my daughter, who tries to give her a lesson on the intricacies of getting and maintaining a good credit rating. All the while I can feel my brain starting to sizzle and I’m thinking, “Dude, I just told you we’re paying cash…you’re cute, but cut the crap.” The entire day, and the next, we drove various sauna-like vehicles, all of which were slightly out of our price range. Dehydration and desperation were in the air.

Then, oh then, we found it! A sweet little Toyota Camry, clean as a whistle and perfectly priced. The dealer, a very grandfatherly type, got the AC going for us and hydrated us while the car was prepped for the big test drive. We drove it down the business loop, then hopped on the interstate to check out how it accelerates and handles at higher speeds. It was sweet! We were smiling and happy and high-fiving each other…then, just after we exited and were heading back to the dealership…

IT. QUIT.

I called the dealership…they were on their way. Then…

IT. STARTED. SMOKING. 

The dealer, his partner, and a mechanic arrived. Then…

IT. CAUGHT. FIRE! 

Then the mechanic risked life and limb by yanking out the washer fluid container and dousing the flames.

There was a big scorch mark on the hood.

They apologized all over themselves. 

We forgave them.

Then we took a break.

Now, being the hearty souls we are, and on a whim (and frankly, we were now just a little gun shy when it came to used car lots), we decided to cruise the local Chevy dealer lot. Of course, you absolutely never cruise a car lot and not have a salesperson magically materialize at your window. Actually, he thought he just might have what we’re looking for. We went inside, he brought us water, the other salesboy there flirted with Anna, we told them story of the flaming Camry, and, being properly mortified, they brought us more water. 

Dead end…the perfect car had just been sold.

Okay, now we’re four days into it, it’s Saturday, July 30^th and I absolutely have to get back to Georgia, because my Missouri plates are about to expire. On a tip from my mother we drive 30 miles to visit her dealer, who assures her that he has plenty of things in my price range, only to be shown a $12,000 vehicle, and then be told, “No, we have nothing in your price range”. My head is going to explode.

On the way back the conversation turned to VW’s, and I told Anna to get on the I-phone and find a dealer. She says, “Head Motor Company has a Jetta for $3,950”. I said, “Let’s go.” We surprised the salesman by specifically requesting that car, because they had just put it out on the lot that morning. We drove it, we inspected it, I talked him down to $3,500, we bought it.

By the way…

It’s red.

Okay, so here's what I want you to do....

Trust me!

Go get a 3-4 lb. pork butt
1 small can of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce
(yes, your grocery store does have it...it's in the Hispanic food section in a quiet, unassuming little can)
Half an onion
Brown Sugar
Penzey's Arizona Dreaming spice blend
(If you don't have Penzey's that makes me very sad, but you can fake it w/ some ground chili pepper, onion and garlic powder, lemon peel, paprika, and cocoa)

Plop that roast into your crockpot, dump the can of peppers on top and around the sides, slice up the onion and toss that in there, then sprinkle the top with brown sugar and the spice blend. Let it cook on low all day.

Now, take the roast out, let it cool a bit, then grab a couple of forks and shred that puppy up.
Put that in a deep-sided skillet, sprinkle the top w/ more brown sugar, add about 1/2 cup of the liquid from the crockpot and some of the sliced onion, and, this is important, so listen up...
DO NOT ADD MORE THAN ONE OF THOSE PEPPERS TO THE SHREDDED MEAT...OR YOU WILL DIE.

So, here's where it gets kinky...
take a whole fresh peach, peel it, then dice it up and toss that in the pan with everything else.
(It helps if it's a Georgia peach which you have just purchased straight from the farmer's truck, but we can't all be that lucky)

Put the lid on the pan and let it simmer for awhile.
Then remove the lid and let the liquid boil off.

Serve w/ flour tortillas, fresh tomatoes, homemade pico de gallo, sour cream, cheese, and your favorite sides (we like black beans and Santa Fe rice).

You're welcome!
Love ya madly!

Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes

“I took off for a weekend last month, just to try and recall the whole year...”

Well, actually, it was a week.

And while we’re making confessions…it wasn’t just me.

And it’s quite possible that “recalling” the whole year was not exactly part of the game plan.

However, there were 8 of us who really, really needed a change in attitude.

The whole motley crew consisted of my husband, his mother, brother, two sisters and their spouses (minus one). Incidentally, all of whom I love and respect as dearly as my own flesh and blood. 

(And we all know how I feel about them.)

 

No, I am not trying to hide...when random strangers take your photo you never know what you're going to get.

On a muggy Saturday afternoon we converged on New Orleans at amazingly close to the same time, considering that we were all coming from different parts of the country. We spent that afternoon, evening and part of the next morning exploring Bourbon Street and the French Quarter.

Huge Ass Beers!

On Sunday we boarded one very big-assed ship docked on the Mississippi River (no, not that one....a much, much, much bigger one) and cruised around the Caribbean for seven days with stops in Costa Maya, Hondura’s Roatan Island, Belize and Cozumel. There were plenty of sunburns, and a great deal of alcohol was consumed (both sanctioned and, ahem, contraband).

In short, a great time was had by all.

Although, there were those innocent bystanders who probably thought we had a little too much fun.

But their opinions matter not.

On day one, before we even set sail, my brother-in-law discovered the Bier Garten (good boy), and it soon became apparent that this is where most of our on-board time would be spent. The advantages of the Bier Garten were many:

1. Beer and various other intriguing alcoholic concoctions
2. Food
3. No crowds
4. Top Deck (open)
5. Overlooking the pool
6. Music (some good; some quite, quite bad)
7. Close proximity to the potty
8. Awning for shade or shelter as required
9. Awesome wait staff (Irma and Antonio rocked, but we had to “fire” Gilly a few times for lack of communication)
10. Perfect location for heckling the track runners

We quickly staked out our corner of the Bier Garten, rearranging lounge chairs around a few tables, and warning anyone who came to occupy the chairs closest to us that they did so at their own risk. Most of those people were cool, and we enjoyed their company. Others were, shall we say, not. They usually didn’t come back, either.  Interestingly, that spot was always available for us whenever we decided to congregate there (which was often).

Anyway…here are a few snippets and observations (not all of which are my own) acquired during the trip:

The insanity of Bourbon Street is contagious.

Check out my sister-in-law trying to disassociate herself from her own mother and brother! Tsk, tsk!







Musicians south of the border define “harmony” differently than the rest of us.

Somewhere in the world Neil Diamond’s ears are bleeding.

Before you dip it into your amaretto sour, it’s always wise to make sure the pineapple on that skewer the waitress just handed you is not, in fact, cleverly disguised cheese.

For sanity’s sake, one must make peace with the fact that one will, quite simply, spend an entire week with bad hair.

Morning showers are pointless.

Hats are your friend.

Napkins are versatile tools.

Creative hair design is an art form.

So is chair dancing.

There are great number of people in the world who are expertly skilled in working a buffet.

There are in-laws and then there are outlaws (a moniker I proudly share with one of my most favorite people in the entire world.)

Outlaws and damn proud of it!

Sometimes fate hands you an elevator filled with exactly the right group of personalities to make it one of the funniest experiences of your life.

The water the wait staff just spritzed on you under the guise of cooling you off is really disinfectant.

You will only get towel animals from your steward if you don’t immediately gain the reputation as a rebel and malcontent.

Doggy

Elephant

No one knows for sure


















If you decide to reveal to the entire group that your husband’s Sean Connery impression always makes you laugh, then you must be prepared for everyone else's Sean Connery impression.
IT. IS. ALWAYS. FUNNY.

Wise men ALWAYS give their wives of 27 years a heads-up BEFORE announcing to a large group of snorkelers, which include children unschooled in snorkeling etiquette, that he and said wife have just spotted a manatee, lest said wife be swamped by those 30 other snorkelers (insert Lisa Look).

The most commonly heard Jimmy Buffett song, both on the ship and off, was “Cheeseburger in Paradise”…HUH?

It is possible, with the proper application of ice, to make those 4 drinks ordered for you at 10 am last the entire day.

Careful drink planning can turn a 7 day cruise into a 14 day cruise.

 “The rum made me do it, mon!”

We met some wonderful people…

Newlyweds Larry and Angela from Arkansas (along w/ their beautiful 16 year old daughter, Demi), the three of whom graced us with the most lovely smiles, and who were brave enough to participate in the pub crawl not just once, but twice. (Not to worry, Demi found better things to do w/ her time.)

Angela, Larry, and Larry
(all from Arkansas)
















Newlywed teachers Matt and Heather from Wisconsin with whom Bruce and I shared a bucket of beer, some rum punch, and chair dancing. By the way, Heather is also a shuffleboard shark.

And we must not forget Trisha and her clan from Texas…our Bier Garten buddies.

This trip was just what the doctor ordered.

Thank you, Dr. Grace!

“With these changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same.

Through all of our running and all of our cunning,

If we couldn’t laugh we just would go insane.

If we weren’t all crazy we would go insane!”

The fun stuff always happens...

when I'm not around (pout)!

On Saturday I ran into town (I love saying that) to order appliances. I already knew what I wanted so I thought it would be, as Anna and her dad used to say, "a piece of cheese."

Well, not so much.

I ended up having to order completely different stuff...oh well...no big deal.

While I was there Mr. B called to tell me I needed a new kitchen sink and should pick one up on the way home.

Okey, dokey.

As I was leaving the store Mr. B called to tell that he and Dolly had a visitor.

A very cute visitor.

At least he took pictures.

Check out the size of those ears!

If I had been here, I would have offered snacks.