tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81153954851632977402024-02-19T09:52:36.269-05:00The Saucy DishStories about cooking, eating, parenting, making things, growing things, decorating, entertaining, an unnatural love of wine, and whatever else pops into my head.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-31546774010095854242018-06-25T10:30:00.000-04:002018-06-25T10:30:54.924-04:00Mommy and The Brain<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last night I heard myself say, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Why am I even here?"</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">. I was frustrated that no one was listening. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I'm a mom. There are at least a few million meme's out there about no one listening to Moms until they (<i>insert "funny" emotional/physical/verbal explosion here</i>) right? You've seen them. And moms across the world nod and smile to themselves while they click {Like}, or click a heart in solidarity of sisterhood. "I'm here for you Sister! We stand strong together in our frustration of being ignored, unappreciated and mostly invisible." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But are we really standing together? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Are we really supporting one another by laughing at the problem. I guess sometimes we are. Because at times we feel like all we can do is laugh, or we'll dissolve into oblivion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But is appreciating the problem the same as supporting? I don't know. I'm asking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is a part of me that is glad the memes are there, I guess. Because yeah, I feel a little less alone knowing that I'm not the only invisible Mom out there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I am the only invisible Mom in here, and it's lonely as shit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">That being said, you may notice my last blog post is dated over two years ago. Where have I been? What have I been doing?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Depends on who you ask, I guess.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I'll give you my side. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've been right here. And yet, at the same time I've been very lost and afraid and not here at all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have anxiety, depression, and debilitating attention deficit disorder. Yes, there are funny memes about all of these as well. Depending on the day I may raise my eyebrows, smirk, click {Like} and move on, or I won't even have the energy/desire/will to do that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I've retreated into a scary and dark place, all the while trying to smile and show up to volunteer shifts and put on a happy and strong face at school events and meetings. When I can muster the strength to emerge, its terrifying and exhausting and I come running home to hide again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I'm on medication, and some days I'm OK. Some days I can handle doing the laundry, making a pot of coffee, watching the news. Other days I can't, so I must have done something wrong to cause this adverse reaction. I'm ON medication. It's supposed to work. I just have to wait another day. I'm sure it will work tomorrow. I'll feel OK tomorrow. I can do it tomorrow. I can catch up, make it all better and do it all ... tomorrow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two years of tomorrows have come and gone. I've lost friends, jobs, hobbies, interests, and most recently, almost our house and dog. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If you've experienced it or studied it, anxiety and depression can have marvelous reactions to medication. There are many many kinds of medications out there, but they all require a build-up of the medication to become effective. It's not like a Tylenol where you take it and in 30-45 minutes you feel better. They don't work like that. And again, every BODY is different. What works for you may not be what works for your cousin, but what does work for your cousin could be what works for your neighbor. Finding the right medication can take years because of the amount of time needed to wait for the dosage to regulate and for your chemistry to react to it. But if it doesn't work, then you have to wean off of it in order to start another one. We're told to wait about 6 weeks to feel the full effect of a new medication. Two weeks weaning off of one that may not have worked, six more weeks waiting to see if this new one works... repeat. Again. Then again. Then maybe we feel a slight change. And we've been in the dark for so long that this glimmer of hope, this tiny spark, has allowed us to hope. There might be something here, so lets not change this one, lets ride it out a little longer. Up the dosage, make other small lifestyle changes, it may really work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two years of waiting for that spark to come again. It was there. It was right there. That one day I could honest to God smile at something that brought me joy. Or was it a day? Was it really a dream? Was it really there at all? Was I just so tired of not feeling good that I imagined I did in an effort to MAKE myself feel better?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My Aunt died last month. She too suffered from depression and anxiety, but she was always so full of light and a magical sparkle that when she began to slip away, I retreated from her. I stopped emailing her, stopped answering the phone when she called, and couldn't bring myself to call her back when she left voicemails asking to talk to her "Little Carter", even though I was taller that her by the time I was 10. I kept thinking she was the light and magic that forever made everything OK, so if her light was going out, there was no way I could bear to see it, hear it, acknowledge it. She'd get better, then I could lean on her again. But she didn't get better. She got worse. She drank vodka all day, and her sweet little body just couldn't process the chemicals any longer and it shut down. Her brothers, my father and uncle, tried to grab her on the way down, but she was too tired to hold on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain both committed suicide recently, making news headlines around the world. We again are reminded that depression, anxiety and other forms of mental illness are all around us. Fame, money, notoriety, fancy clothes, Oscars and Emmy's, and/or starring roles in movies and TV shows don't make us immune. Pictures of Robin Williams are back in the news as well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Aunt Sister's suicide was slow and painful and not mainstream news, but it was enough for me to realize the medicine I've been waiting to kick in again and show me that spark that I saw that one day may not be the right one for me after all.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I had made a few appointments with my Dr to discuss my medications, but something would come up and I'd cancel my appointment and forget to reschedule. A few weeks before Aunt Sister died, she "missed" an appointment too. By the time she went to the Dr, it was ultimately too late. I don't know what exactly happened, but I know she went back home with what I understand to be "anti convulsion" medication, and her estranged husband was to be by her side to administer them if/when needed. There are bits and pieces of the following week that I was told, but not sure what all is real, or third party interpretation, or purely made-up. But regardless, I called my Dr, made an appointment and WENT. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Over the past two weeks I have been weaning off of my "old" medication and this morning I started my "new" one. It will be a few weeks before I can tell if anything is better, but I can tell already that coming off of the old one has improved things already. And I'm able to write again. I'm here, in front of my computer spilling my guts on what I think and feel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Also within those two weeks, a friend invited me over out of the blue. "Lets go get drinks, or grab lunch, or just come over for s'mores", she said. Then she told me she'd noticed I'd been withdrawn for the past two YEARS. She hadn't thought I wanted to talk about it, so she'd left me alone, but saw something I posted on FB and realized I was ready to talk, so she jumped back in with two feet. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">WHAT?!?! I'm NOT invisible? There is someone who gives a shit?!?! What? How? When? Where? I'm so confused. I've been living in this hole, not letting anyone in, pushing everyone away, thinking no one cared or noticed I was gone, and low and behold, someone was standing there at the gate waiting for the the whole time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I mentioned to another friend that this friend had said she'd noticed me withdrawing over the past two years, and this second friend said, "Yes! I've seen that too!" Again ... WHAT?!?! ANOTHER friend has missed me? How could this be? I was sure no one cared. Sure of it. But ... nope. They were right here the whole time. One literally Right. Next. Door. </span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-8907128627283604352016-04-01T12:27:00.001-04:002016-04-01T12:28:10.948-04:00RecallYesterday, Patrick and I finally took the Pilot to the local Honda dealer to get the recalled airbag replaced. This is a true (Lord, I wish it were a joke) account of our morning at Honda Koons of Manassas.<br />
<br />
First of all, getting into the dealership is a miraculous feat unto itself. The only way to get into it from the main road is via a driveway/road that is not only <b><u>not</u></b> labeled, but one of three unlabeled "drives" within a few yards of one another in a strip of road about a quarter of a mile long located between a large intersection, a gas station, and the on-ramps to one of the biggest highways leading into Washington DC.<br />
<br />
Then, upon getting into the area of the dealership, there is no exterior signage directing you towards the "Service Department". So I park in the Customer Parking spot in the front and get out of the car. A man sees me pull up and park, and damn near pees himself trying to get to me. A woman, alone, in a Honda Pilot pulling up to a Honda dealership! Bless his heart, he was seeing dollar signs and commission galore. A repeat customer! A woman! She'll buy from me and pay anything I want as long as I have the right color and a cup holder for her Starbucks! That's all women care about when buying a car.<br />
<br />
So, Mr. BIG SMILE comes out, walks over to me while I'm getting out. I smile and say, "Hi. I have an appointment to get my airbag replaced."<br />
<br />
Poor thing is so deflated all he can manage is a slight eye-roll (I think he was trying to suppress it but it was so strong, a little just had to squeak out) and to indicate with a head tilt and finger point over his shoulder before uttering something about me needing to go around back. I smile and thank him and start to get back in the car. Mind you, I have my purse, my water bottle, and my coffee all with me, which I'm now juggling to get back in the car with me without spilling. As I'm doing this, not only does he not offer to help or at least hold the door for me, but he actually says, "Or I would love to sell you a brand new one." To which I laughed, snorted actually, and said, "Yeah! I'm sure you would!" Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his business card to hand me. AS I'M ALREADY JUGGLING THREE THINGS AND MY CAR DOOR THAT'S CLOSING BECAUSE OF THE SLIGHT INCLINE IN THE PARKING LOT. Jackweasle then stands there holding out his card as I manage to get back in without spilling anything, and reopen my door so I can take his card.<br />
<br />
So ... back in the car, Patrick has parked the Jeep and gets in the Pilot with me and we drive around to the unmarked service area where there are three bay doors each with signage saying to pull up and door will automatically open. OK. That's nice, but does that pertain to me? Is that info for the mechanics? The customers? The Almighty? I can't tell. There are also no signs saying "Service/Repair Parking Customers" or anything of the like. So I find one parking spot, pull in, park, get my purse, water bottle, and coffee, and get back out of the pilot. Use the human-access main door to enter said Service area. We were very sweetly greeted by the service staff. I said that I was here to get the airbag replaced, and they said to pull on up to the bay door, it will open, and I can pull in to get checked in.<br />
<br />
O.<br />
K.<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it have been kind to have this written on a sign outside? Maybe?<br />
<br />
So ... I get back in the car, again juggling my purse, my water, my coffee, OH, AND MY KEYS this time, because I was thinking I was going to give my keys to the mechanic to drive my car into the bay to do the repairs.<br />
<br />
I drive up to the first of the three bay doors. It opens just like it said it would. I drive in and then over to the two men directing me to the second lane. Now I think ... do I pick everything up again? Is this the last place I need to put my car? Do I need to do my own replacement too? Upon getting out, there is a man standing with my husband with a clip board getting the final information. He's very nice and seems very willing to help ... my husband. I lost count, but I do believe it was at least three times during the entire process that my sweet husband said, "Ask her. It's her car." to which seemingly shocked and awed the people there. WHAT?!?! A woman who OWNS a car? How is this even possible?<br />
<br />
So, the back and forth of what all we needed done, asking Patrick, me answering, asking Patrick again, me answering until he had all his notes completed and we thanked them and walked through the office into the show room to take a look a the newest Honda lineup.<br />
<br />
Quick back-story on me ... the first car I ever bought with my own money was an '88 Accord. Before that I had an '81 Accord that was my first love. Named Arthur (after Arthur Dent of Hitchhikers Guide) when my mom bent the fender when it was originally her car. Arthur then became mine, and I'm not sure there will ever be a love affair as pure as my love for Arthur. In fact, I fully believe the spirit of Arthur is in every car I own. Arthur is my protective chariot. He cares for me, protects me and now my babies with me, and I protect him. OK ... so, that being said, There was a time when I could tell you the year of the Honda by the body style.<br />
<br />
Even further back in the back story, before I was driving Original Arthur, I had a VW Karmann Ghia with severe electrical malfunctions. I got the Chilton and rewired the entire car by myself. I'm not new to car ownership or repair. If I could get a Bondo scented perfume, I'd probably wear it.<br />
<br />
Out of the seven cars I can claim to have been "mine" in the past 30 years, two were VW (a bug before the Ghia), then my '81 Accord, then my '88 accord, then a brand new (my first and only brand new car EVER) 2000 Jeep Cherokee Sport, then back to a Honda (Odyssey this time), and finally to my current love, my 2006 Honda Pilot.<br />
<br />
So again, I hope I have somewhat established that I love Honda's. I know Honda's. My family, as a collective, have owned and currently own more Honda's than I feel like trying to count right now.<br />
<br />
This brings us back up to yesterday's story. Thank you for sticking with me through that side-bar.<br />
<br />
We walk through the office and into the showroom to see the new Honda Lineup.<br />
<br />
There are only four or five cars in the show room. No big deal, Honda's are wicked popular I know they are snapped up as soon as they are available. So we look at the cars in the showroom, then venture outside to see if we can find a new Ridgeline or Pilot.<br />
<br />
And yes, we were like chum to the sales sharks in the showroom. Polite smiles and "We're just waiting for our Pilot's airbag to be replaced" seemed to happily calm the feeding frenzy inside.<br />
<br />
Outside we go. Another salesman materializes at our side and he asks what he can help us with. I told him I wanted to see the new Pilot or the new Ridgeline. He very nicely told us that they didn't have any Pilots, that they only get three a month, and they are sold practically as soon as they are on the lot. He could order one for us (umhum, I'm sure you could) or we could call to see when the next shipment would be in and we could come look then. About the Ridgeline, we're told that he's "just as much in the dark about that as we are" again instilling much confidence in your product knowledge.<br />
<br />
No no ... it gets better. Each time "I" ask him about a vehicle, he looks at Patrick to answer. I then decided to really floor him and I asked him if Honda was in the process of making another convertible. He honestly looks like I've spoken Swahili. He repeats the word ... "Convertible" as if trying to process it's meaning. Then says, "No. But we have the new Civics." (long pause ...) I think I must have blinked a few times and then given him an "oh, bless your sweet heart" look because he looked down at the ground and said, "Yeah, but they aren't convertibles." Patrick turned around to not laugh, but the sales man wasn't discouraged! I wanted to be sure we knew that he knew what he was talking about! "Oh, but Honda IS coming out with an alternative fuel cell car!" This was directed at Patrick again, because, what the Hell would "I" know about alternative fuel cells. In unison, Patrick and I say, "Oh, OK. That's cool." And ... No lie, sweet sales man says, "Yeah. It's called ... um ... the civic LX-P ... Oh, no, wait, that's not it, it's um .. the ... awe man, I can't remember."<br />
<br />
So we smile real big again and say we're going to just wander around and look at what's on the lot.<br />
<br />
Pickin's were pretty slim out on the lot. Again, understandable with Honda's resale records/statistics. This dealership is attached to a GMC dealer too, and the used cars share the same lot, so we moseyed on over to the other side of the lot looking here and there at a few random selections. not impressed, we head back towards the Jeep to go run errands etc while the Pilot is being repaired.<br />
<br />
We notice a Jeep Wrangler with a sticker in the window about all of it's stats, but no price. Like clockwork, another salesman materializes and asks if we need any help. I ask about the price of the Wrangler, and he sweetly smiles and walks over to the vehicle to look at the sticker, because clearly I'm too dumb to be able to read it. But what is this? There is no price on it. He whips out his handy tablet and does some very important scurrying, then looks puzzled and tells us that it's not in their database yet. "OK. No problem. Thanks anyway." we say. He instantly perks up, like he's just completely had the past three minutes of his life erased from his mind and cheerfully says, "OK! Let me know if you have any questions!"<br />
<br />
Patrick and I stifle our laugh as we thank him again, turn and head back to our Cherokee to leave. We look at each other and laugh about the fact that no one on the entire lot could answer any questions we had.<br />
<br />
The mechanic doing the work on my baby called to double check what else we wanted him to look at (our key fobs needed things and I wanted to check on updating the GPS) and he told me that a headlamp was out and the brakes needed to be replaced soon. He was VERY nice. I OK'd the headlight replacement and thanked him for the update on the brakes but said not now. He told me i needed to get online to buy the GPS update from Honda directly. Lastly, he told me about the $180.00 replacement charge for the fob, and after I recovered from the guttural explosion of expletives that spewed from me, I told him that wasn't necessary. He then very sweetly offered to take the working parts from one and put them into the other to make one key and fob that worked instead of two that don't. I asked about the charge for that, and he said he'd do it no charge. WOOHOO! Thank you Chris from Koons!<br />
<br />
I finally get the call from Chris from Koons letting me know my baby is all set, and we go pick him up. Arthur 5, not Chris. The airbag replacement was a recall, so no cost to us, the headlamp was about $20.00, the labor was about $10.00, so for about $30.00 I have a new airbag that won't send shards of plastic and metal into my jugular upon impact, a working key and fob, and both headlights. OH! AND a complementary car wash! Not too shabby, I'd say.<br />
<br />
So all-in-all, I'm very pleased with the service and work performed at Koons Honda Manassas. And really the sales team gave me a great story to tell, so I thank them too. Had I been in the market to buy, this story would not be so lighthearted, as I would still be fuming over the lack of product knowledge, but as it stands now, a nice morning spent with My Honey and my sweet Arthur is happily awaiting our next adventure.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-40246880513005122892016-03-19T16:51:00.002-04:002016-03-19T16:51:57.038-04:00New things in the Home StoreHi.<br />
<br />
I've spent a few hours today adding new things to The Saucy Dish Home Store.<br />
<br />
I can't tell you how much fun its been making, creating, and designing things for the store, for my friends, and for my family. And there are still more goodies to come. I'm working on some lamps, more wearable goods, and that's just the beginning.<br />
<br />
If there is anything specific you would like to see in the shop, or in your own home, let me know. I love custom orders, love making things, and love making people happy.<br />
<br />
Let me know what you think. I appreciate the feedback.<br />
<br />
Thanks ... and stay saucy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rEEz8MsUovFrFvKxT1xPe8mcmmgzexM2rpnPbRyZaw30sFYQEVe9yDalbbMrxyupiVXSLmKchloLdykOldCbxZ7WJKORf1dWCpGZ6uylxPyiG6zTzw7754lqc3jAa9gXWszBbPRhF8g/s1600/IMG_1279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rEEz8MsUovFrFvKxT1xPe8mcmmgzexM2rpnPbRyZaw30sFYQEVe9yDalbbMrxyupiVXSLmKchloLdykOldCbxZ7WJKORf1dWCpGZ6uylxPyiG6zTzw7754lqc3jAa9gXWszBbPRhF8g/s320/IMG_1279.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
PS ... A sneak peak of new things to come...</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-91838466435771691942016-03-04T14:56:00.001-05:002016-03-04T14:56:32.302-05:00Stadium BlanketsHere's a sneak peak of my Honey's New York Giants Stadium Blanket. <div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkx_6-Km7SQy6_IA71XbGQ7KeLwpr-21wZ8-NWo3HoiXSbaGauVFD97cqA9AqvkVSawfSPb-7PlcWuV5eZPxuZkt3yNkfKjwz8BZPEJWNVypyetvimQa7brDIc3eoJz8SiEXr6cnfvnQ4/s640/blogger-image--1698006694.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkx_6-Km7SQy6_IA71XbGQ7KeLwpr-21wZ8-NWo3HoiXSbaGauVFD97cqA9AqvkVSawfSPb-7PlcWuV5eZPxuZkt3yNkfKjwz8BZPEJWNVypyetvimQa7brDIc3eoJz8SiEXr6cnfvnQ4/s640/blogger-image--1698006694.jpg"></a></div><br><div><br></div><div>This yarn is A-Mazing!! Super soft and a little shimmery. But still really manly, of course. Machine washable and dryable so beer, mustard, cheese-whiz, and/or anything else that gets dropped on it, spilled on it, or that it gets dropped in or stepped on can all come clean in the wash. </div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-74007380414856268102016-03-03T14:06:00.000-05:002016-03-03T14:06:42.958-05:00New Year, New Look, New Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_Nky3LVc7DKBeIF1E7HBEDSz1ihwwW7sJN04eDbsYyxUaFFQEbgEiSdLg-yBMVgepKGxCDMIWKkN1whdvFEHmsoO0m8OnITSXSjvs904Dm0aymNSQCSEtutu2m9_f2D5W-p4Xizpfdw/s1600/tsdlogo3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_Nky3LVc7DKBeIF1E7HBEDSz1ihwwW7sJN04eDbsYyxUaFFQEbgEiSdLg-yBMVgepKGxCDMIWKkN1whdvFEHmsoO0m8OnITSXSjvs904Dm0aymNSQCSEtutu2m9_f2D5W-p4Xizpfdw/s1600/tsdlogo3.JPG" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Hi!<br />
<br />
I've been a little quiet as of late, but that's only because I had a lot of things brewing. But now, I'm very excited to introduce the new blog design and new added features! <br />
<br />
Notice the tabs at the top of the page.<br />
<br />
<b><i>"The Saucy Dish Home Collection"</i></b><br />
This is where I'll post all of the one of a kind items that are officially for sale.<br />
<br />
<b><i>"What I'm Making Now"</i></b><br />
This is a collection of the things I have in process, ideas I'm finalizing, and things that will soon be in The Home Collection.<br />
<br />
See something in the Home Collection or What I'm Making Now that you kinda love, but wish it was a little different? Then check out...<br />
<br />
<b><i>"Customizable For YOUR Home"</i></b><br />
Here you can request the exact same items you see in the "Home Collection", or "What I'm Making Now" but then change it up based on your style, taste, size, colors, or other design requests. And ... see something on <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/daizymeigh/">Pinterest</a> that you love but don't have the time/energy/patience to make? Send it to me and I'll see if it's something I can make for you.<br />
<br />
In the coming weeks/months, expect to see a lot more items being added. I'm hoping to get a Shopify store connected to both the blog here and to my Facebook page. If you're not already one of my Facebook followers, please take a quick second to "Like" <a href="http://www.facebook.com/thesaucydish">The Saucy Dish</a> on Facebook. And then, while you're there, you could be a doll and click the share button and let your friends and family know about the fun new things going on here at The Saucy Dish too.<br />
<br />
OK ... so, as much as I love hanging out and talking, I need to go get back to the shop to make more things, design more things, and take pictures of the things that you need in your home/office/life too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-6663383988995444922015-10-22T14:46:00.001-04:002015-10-22T14:46:24.508-04:00Armageddon<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Armageddon is one of those movies that just about every time it comes on TV, I have to watch.</span><br><div><br></div><div>It's almost a guilty pleasure. I have a Bachelors in English with a concentration in film and media studies. Really all that means is that I learned how to write movie reviews. But it also gives me the ability to turn my nose up at movies that cause brain damage to those who watch them and to raise my eyebrows in wonder when I find someone else who loves Jean-Pierre Jeunet films or anything from Miramax. If I hear that James Horner composed the score, I'm a little more interested in seeing the picture. So for me to love a full blown special effects driven movie feels almost like I'm breaking the rules. </div><div><br></div><div>Here is the link to the IMDB page where you can real the official credintials. Who's in it, who made it, which awards it won, so I'm not going to go into all that. I'm just going to tell you why I love it. <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120591/?ref_=nv_sr_2" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120591/?ref_=nv_sr_2</a></div><div><br></div><div>First of all, it's the cast. And, yes, I know I JUST said I wasn't going to talk about the cast, but I meant I wasn't going to talk about them in the, "9 time academy award nominated blah blah blah" sense. But I mean, COME ON! Bruce Willis, Ben Aflfleck, Billy Bob Thornton, Steve Buscemi, and Liv Tyler. </div><div><br></div><div>Her role (Tyler's) in particular struck me. I fully believed that she loved her daddy (Willis) and honey (Affleck) tremendously, and I still cry right along with her in that one scene. If you've seen it you know what I mean. If you haven't seen it yet, I don't want to give it away, but my Lord, I ball like a baby every time. I fully believed that all the other rough-necks in the drilling crew loved her like a daughter too. This group of actors was such a fantastic blend of smarts, pretty, funny, and sincere. I bet they had a blast filming it. They look like a group that probably spent a lot of time goofing off and being silly while on set.</div><div><br></div><div>The special effects are cool, I guess. I'm not all that into big explosion scenes in multi million dollar blockbusters. I mean, they are cool to watch, and in a high energy movie like this or in Independence Day when the aliens are blowing up landmarks they are awesome and add to the story, but it's not the type of movie I'm going to jump to watch and if there are just explosions and damage to personal and/or public property for no real reason, that's not my bag. I prefer the homemade low-budget effects. Original Star Wars, Tremors, Monty Python, you know, back when making a movie was fun and you got to hold a camera and chase your employees in giant costumes on a hand made wagon being pulled behind a jeep. Which of course no one would do now because that's dangerous and someone could get hurt.</div><div><br></div><div>On a personal level, the movie holds a special place in my heart. I watched it once with my now husband and a fraternity brother of his in his room on his teeniney tv and when the "Leaving On A Jet Plane" scene came on we all sang along at the top of our lungs, flopped all over each other in a big pile laughing and singing very badly and way off key and being silly. </div><div><br></div><div>Armageddon is a movie with a very good combination of love story and action making it appealing to a larger fan base. In addition to that, the love story is both a romantic love and a family love. So it's not all boobies and bombs at all. The relationships appeal to my feminin side, but I also enjoy the macho "let's go blow shit up to save the world" part too. </div><div><br></div><div>At this point, of course, I should go into the dichotomy of this and the juxtaposition of that, the protagonist and antagonist, the struggles, the obstacles overcome. Or I should point out certain screen shots, fades, editing, cinematography, zooms, pans, etc. </div><div><br></div><div>But no. Not here. Not with Armageddon. It's just fun to watch and I don't feel the need to dissect it and turn it into a choreographed essay-like document I would have submitted 15 years ago with footnotes, a cover page, and a side of anxiety over whether or not my works sited page was formatted correctly. </div><div><br></div><div>So, with all that said, and for the reasons described above, I'll say it again. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Armageddon is one of those movies that just about every time it comes on TV, I have to watch.</span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-35481977555954058772015-10-17T15:23:00.001-04:002015-10-17T15:23:13.884-04:00Recycled Towel BathmatNeeding a new bathmat and having no money to buy one, I decided to experiment with cutting two old towels into strips, braiding them, then sewing the braid together to create the "new" bathmat. <div><br></div><div>To my amazement, it worked wonderfully and came out perfect. </div><div><br></div><div>Here is how I made it. </div><div><br></div><div>I picked out the 2 regular sized bath towels that I wanted to use. They were a few years old, had a tear in one and a bleach spot on another. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCskXt3r2c-K6Ny4w2n6LXvi0GXPy7bwgll0h5m7PdrEo-uTCzga9d8yWfoB-XmsEQJFVUo9hoVOB7KvCJwHTbJ5syS-hTkCecbgtanRJM3CI4nxSHuSct3tdfEnwYnIuNwpb8B_BR2nU/s640/blogger-image-1665043218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCskXt3r2c-K6Ny4w2n6LXvi0GXPy7bwgll0h5m7PdrEo-uTCzga9d8yWfoB-XmsEQJFVUo9hoVOB7KvCJwHTbJ5syS-hTkCecbgtanRJM3CI4nxSHuSct3tdfEnwYnIuNwpb8B_BR2nU/s640/blogger-image-1665043218.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I then cut the towels into about 2" strips. </div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_SiVyTPbp8GizBjEyV6sZAO1UHyeurdIUgHkeKKLocK4TxN93MRTEhC1DfO8dbCxCf-m0Pz5UDGvepCoH9xoIwHN3tBhcOkK2VHPeGxtSM7AT_vZ21jOmbGsUAyxorN60j-WCNJSjeo/s640/blogger-image-1130475435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_SiVyTPbp8GizBjEyV6sZAO1UHyeurdIUgHkeKKLocK4TxN93MRTEhC1DfO8dbCxCf-m0Pz5UDGvepCoH9xoIwHN3tBhcOkK2VHPeGxtSM7AT_vZ21jOmbGsUAyxorN60j-WCNJSjeo/s640/blogger-image-1130475435.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I didn't want the tough "seam" part of the towel, so I cut them off as well. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdlfz6VQmm9mPMRy8oFn_SP2g7TFCaB6AR8Ouih2LbpgywJ72IB04ZQpY6OOQbxIdHkVhuDUJLBuVygnpaaSQ4qaWp-X0PQpPHbWTGqrTR_hiDJrSpiuhWCPO-gxG_sFr3xYe96znWVk/s640/blogger-image--886419646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFdlfz6VQmm9mPMRy8oFn_SP2g7TFCaB6AR8Ouih2LbpgywJ72IB04ZQpY6OOQbxIdHkVhuDUJLBuVygnpaaSQ4qaWp-X0PQpPHbWTGqrTR_hiDJrSpiuhWCPO-gxG_sFr3xYe96znWVk/s640/blogger-image--886419646.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I used a large round tipped "Tapestry" needle and size 10 crochet cotton thread. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTWm19QLIl-lM3Q4z62olfVttWhUd_kMHRtLSIDZxFmKU7-ZNXx_UyL845j6ljJ7E0ZUZWfve3qveWfDKjFCb8X0tHdMvhqlI6SsB9jBmJeW7saWjr6lm2USTrL2CGM_oZtdmWv46mjc/s640/blogger-image-1472502439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTWm19QLIl-lM3Q4z62olfVttWhUd_kMHRtLSIDZxFmKU7-ZNXx_UyL845j6ljJ7E0ZUZWfve3qveWfDKjFCb8X0tHdMvhqlI6SsB9jBmJeW7saWjr6lm2USTrL2CGM_oZtdmWv46mjc/s640/blogger-image-1472502439.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After cutting both towels into strips, I started to assemble the braid. Using the above thread, I made a very simple stitch to hold together the start of the first 3 strips.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I then sewed a new strip to the ends of the previous strips as the braid grew. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Itp7qA-46LHM5uNv-I1eGraoEoghZgI7O_19DCCSSG_FMWKppHunCt4hL77RHraR69Xy6z5x3a-_lwB2b5pMiVxhi3ijLZHY3c6lAuDXkN6duNouB4RVgOlNZFTTaNAVA-N3ouWL4hM/s640/blogger-image-1866688592.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Itp7qA-46LHM5uNv-I1eGraoEoghZgI7O_19DCCSSG_FMWKppHunCt4hL77RHraR69Xy6z5x3a-_lwB2b5pMiVxhi3ijLZHY3c6lAuDXkN6duNouB4RVgOlNZFTTaNAVA-N3ouWL4hM/s640/blogger-image-1866688592.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The 2" thickness of the strip made it very easy to keep a flat braid. I wanted this to be the case because I wanted to make sure the mat was as soft as possible. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvY66YwxD8s1r5kbTAG2f0xJZhJES9bWvB3kbZoJKXQnbobpIcbTA_LKqq-NoVVqiBJigARAFDjQlUrryh6AXW_Z2xL_wWkwdg_GHPBQ7sY5D0PZsivqWBaLXa4SMENBOkBbzmSyeFzE/s640/blogger-image--921971202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGvY66YwxD8s1r5kbTAG2f0xJZhJES9bWvB3kbZoJKXQnbobpIcbTA_LKqq-NoVVqiBJigARAFDjQlUrryh6AXW_Z2xL_wWkwdg_GHPBQ7sY5D0PZsivqWBaLXa4SMENBOkBbzmSyeFzE/s640/blogger-image--921971202.jpg"></a></div><br></div>After I had one long "rope" of the braided towel strips, I laid it out to see if I liked it as a circle or oval, and to check for size. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCfVan-_j6IXmwrG2rpgb_eT9Dxu71QwfCfNN-jpoFGK2AVFdLg1RyFh4YnnQwuefdKGS_zjA5UIZHLo4EK9z8Yh44q4xsmRb2uqocwczL0xUQP3rOlXWx8VHmgLgS2K6RT2JfTADJ0Y/s640/blogger-image-209272846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTCfVan-_j6IXmwrG2rpgb_eT9Dxu71QwfCfNN-jpoFGK2AVFdLg1RyFh4YnnQwuefdKGS_zjA5UIZHLo4EK9z8Yh44q4xsmRb2uqocwczL0xUQP3rOlXWx8VHmgLgS2K6RT2JfTADJ0Y/s640/blogger-image-209272846.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHC7yfApWtx4l_pY6FdCGrNxjpRUtOyonChD_WTQpc95zpZpjDnReHt2rzjY0VcVVg6DuL36IFWofboxcts9W5rwNlr9Sc5qGOrSUozntJiK74poDfzv_-9Khfm3BmFieGrGaTxviKkA/s640/blogger-image-1156623253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHC7yfApWtx4l_pY6FdCGrNxjpRUtOyonChD_WTQpc95zpZpjDnReHt2rzjY0VcVVg6DuL36IFWofboxcts9W5rwNlr9Sc5qGOrSUozntJiK74poDfzv_-9Khfm3BmFieGrGaTxviKkA/s640/blogger-image-1156623253.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We decided on the oval, and it wasn't quite large enough with just 1 towel so I continued with the second towel to make it large enough to fit in front of our shower. </div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I measured the space in front of the shower door (very technically with my leg) then I sat on the floor and began to lay out the braid to get the final size I needed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The finished mat is a spiral of the braided strips. To create the oval, I started with a straight section of the braided rope, then turned it 180 degrees, keeping it flat and even. Think of a paper clip as the core design. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Once I had the size I wanted, I began to sew it together. I really just wove the crochet thread through the braid. I believe I only pierced the braid with the needle at the very beginning and end. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiltXU07MMHN5cgbhqVKQqXJ05sFc85oic3tlxfH8GmwlkiPgV5Re_4rQ9RLUq09om7XBye970SjKZJmr4SqudC8cUh-s_o3sPz-9-oBdz1VAE-noNsb6DWMEC-Ifo3xrWhC11uzK2N77I/s640/blogger-image--228784054.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiltXU07MMHN5cgbhqVKQqXJ05sFc85oic3tlxfH8GmwlkiPgV5Re_4rQ9RLUq09om7XBye970SjKZJmr4SqudC8cUh-s_o3sPz-9-oBdz1VAE-noNsb6DWMEC-Ifo3xrWhC11uzK2N77I/s640/blogger-image--228784054.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Using the large needle, I was able to easily weave the thread through adjoining sections of the braid. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1veVEzrIapwtYXJv7txuYh1bK-knvzvkvTV7xp6WKWvzKOSfxZ9D2fzaLoS-5k7VMy_MaIDzediCgmkTVMOqp6HyFDOnJVQ23mRH538nw63nKIHCSGBWYFvNpXKX41odTjp-jGZSgEy0/s640/blogger-image-1217533599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1veVEzrIapwtYXJv7txuYh1bK-knvzvkvTV7xp6WKWvzKOSfxZ9D2fzaLoS-5k7VMy_MaIDzediCgmkTVMOqp6HyFDOnJVQ23mRH538nw63nKIHCSGBWYFvNpXKX41odTjp-jGZSgEy0/s640/blogger-image-1217533599.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Keep the thread tight, but not too tight, or you'll bring it up like a basket rather than a flat mat. If it's not tight enough it will appear to unravel and look yucky. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">By weaving the thread in and out of the braids side-by-side like this, you hide the thread. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfzyJRfV15AOLXC3qXmW82UQre1T4EhJaS6QT7kwfE5v3RH8bNTLjo4twFcd1R6DUDVWB9DgQZS3Vv4PIoIwRL3F8gl0zzE7OP82v4AB2thDojkxsxmNEfQ7tqMF_dofUnly5plhWXrc/s640/blogger-image--1517898817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfzyJRfV15AOLXC3qXmW82UQre1T4EhJaS6QT7kwfE5v3RH8bNTLjo4twFcd1R6DUDVWB9DgQZS3Vv4PIoIwRL3F8gl0zzE7OP82v4AB2thDojkxsxmNEfQ7tqMF_dofUnly5plhWXrc/s640/blogger-image--1517898817.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I continued to weave the thread through each section of braid until I had secured all of the rope to itself resulting in the finished oval shaped bathmat. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMizKh49DsF77T44tky2kkp6Q0AyfGjmaqR0iGkEh8Jllx3v98OMpMmk5AvyoMB15CdOFrFuSTNGKC-14lFOvvfMQOcMjf6pmwTJ9cqGB7uv_Ir8M2vLjMlblg1r0D4sxrL6Y04UIjmz4/s640/blogger-image-2038313520.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMizKh49DsF77T44tky2kkp6Q0AyfGjmaqR0iGkEh8Jllx3v98OMpMmk5AvyoMB15CdOFrFuSTNGKC-14lFOvvfMQOcMjf6pmwTJ9cqGB7uv_Ir8M2vLjMlblg1r0D4sxrL6Y04UIjmz4/s640/blogger-image-2038313520.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8p_gC4cLL8BMW7aqvGFLzmKGOWimVtEDTZo5Py88DLfesVmQsHn5cSzrvz0kL4pqR_gn9keUMwKhpZi4anMTVj15bxEMcjgiCIgXgkUNOzxjUdvUoiORQnnJ2YHRbd2KBE7k74_u8aYw/s640/blogger-image--356797537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8p_gC4cLL8BMW7aqvGFLzmKGOWimVtEDTZo5Py88DLfesVmQsHn5cSzrvz0kL4pqR_gn9keUMwKhpZi4anMTVj15bxEMcjgiCIgXgkUNOzxjUdvUoiORQnnJ2YHRbd2KBE7k74_u8aYw/s640/blogger-image--356797537.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXtnayk3CsCwKYnJe0bzh50502zYIET6nE8nuQhET7M_vjb5uQpBf9aGEeTVyuAcGnWy_JPpWiXqu_9s3YsJihgg8YT53jLKgHJ1IGFq8dhpsIma_rLzPPRW_NW5TENZ0UOjW4LBXO1Mo/s640/blogger-image-88725817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXtnayk3CsCwKYnJe0bzh50502zYIET6nE8nuQhET7M_vjb5uQpBf9aGEeTVyuAcGnWy_JPpWiXqu_9s3YsJihgg8YT53jLKgHJ1IGFq8dhpsIma_rLzPPRW_NW5TENZ0UOjW4LBXO1Mo/s640/blogger-image-88725817.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And there we have it. The upcycled bathmat made from 2 regular sized bath towels. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Send me pictures of yours after you make it! I'll be making more myself. The kids now want one for their bathroom too. </div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-5877745146596458392015-09-28T11:43:00.000-04:002015-09-28T11:43:51.580-04:00Momday<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have a timer that goes off on my phone and tablet every day at noon telling me that its time to write. But I've had a very hard time coming up with what to write about. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, I made up a catchy little list of things that could spark an idea.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Monday: Mom, Menu, Media</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Tuesday: Transformation</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Wednesday: Words, Wonder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Thursday: Thirsty, Thankful, Therapeutic</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Friday: Food, Friends, Farm, Fun, Family</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, since today is Monday, and a really awesome thing happened this past week, it's kinda perfect timing to write about Mama's sapphire ring. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n9tLKxP3NN7HqQKD3dZBlZVCkYIqEIecLG2Y-yu2QqUD_becWXbNPMbnUCvaaCapZnCKKUZ5ZTCMP37Z28ZCPvwMX9VB3uz5St6qPWP_4ErgWHrBaAYEay8LxwwoWndZV7m-EXWw0nw/s1600/ring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-n9tLKxP3NN7HqQKD3dZBlZVCkYIqEIecLG2Y-yu2QqUD_becWXbNPMbnUCvaaCapZnCKKUZ5ZTCMP37Z28ZCPvwMX9VB3uz5St6qPWP_4ErgWHrBaAYEay8LxwwoWndZV7m-EXWw0nw/s320/ring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mama was given this ring by her Daddy for her college graduation. She wore it every day 100% of the time from that moment on. She even paired it with her wedding ring, and was essentially just a part of her. Really almost more than that, though. It WAS HER.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Before she passed, she said she wanted me to have it until Shelby, my niece, and my mothers only grandchild at the time of her death, was old enough to love it, care for it, and treasure it. Shelby and Mama were both born in September, as as the sapphire is their birthstone, it was perfect for Shel to have it.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Kate, my sister and I, discussed the big moment of when we would give it to her. We debated her college graduation, like Mama. I thought it would be sweet to give it to her on her wedding day as her something blue and something old. But in the end, Kate and I chose her 21st birthday, which was this year.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, last week, I began the process of both finding a perfect way to ship the ring to Shel, and the process of letting go of it. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The ring was always Mama's. I was a babysitter for it until Shel was old enough, so therefore I was scared to really wear it a lot. I tried from time to time to get in the habit of wearing it, but it never felt like "mine", and I was so anxious about it. Plus, I would catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye and would honestly flinch because I thought my hand was my mother's. The ring was such a part of her that it was hard to explain what it felt like to see it on my own finger. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GFgamEucgsMdnojFAfaUhuyV-4bcHId7oNGATLcxPOf6w8IFTB5htVD5gZ1adqAD2kQMGCfGLJaCOfunzydPGEK61QYKHssbL7JO-Ouzw1GftzWBUJrTkcZ2DufVDzueutvk0TMbCRU/s1600/mama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2GFgamEucgsMdnojFAfaUhuyV-4bcHId7oNGATLcxPOf6w8IFTB5htVD5gZ1adqAD2kQMGCfGLJaCOfunzydPGEK61QYKHssbL7JO-Ouzw1GftzWBUJrTkcZ2DufVDzueutvk0TMbCRU/s320/mama.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I looked in so many stores. Looked for jewelry boxes, ring boxes, decorative storage boxes, anything that would be a nifty gift that would protect and encase the ring in shipping. I even almost bought a ring so I could use the ring box to ship our ring in. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then, at TJMaxx (aaah ... how we love the maxx!) I found a wine glass that was painted with "Birthday Girl" and had a loop formed in the glass stem holding a wine dooble. PERFECT!! I placed the ring onto the wine dooble, walked next door to the shipping place, and overnighted that bad-boy to my sister's house. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next night, we were able to be on facetime so I could be there with her as she opened it. And sure enough, she loved it, it fit perfectly, and both Kate and I cried. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I also learned a few things. UPS will not ship an item that is "irreplaceable", so don't say that the item is a one of a kind family heirloom. Insurance it flipping EXPENSIVE on shipping things. Even if you don't ensure it, don't put a dollar value on it, and don't tell them that a signature is required, they may suddenly decide that they won't just leave the package on the porch, nor will they leave it at a local UPS store for pickup.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But ... the drama of the shipping aside, the fact that I didn't breathe at ALL until I knew it was in my sisters possession aside, it was a beautiful moment. It took her a few minutes to realize what the ring was, that it was HERS, and what it all meant. But of course, trying to understand Kate and I while we cried trying to tell her about it probably didn't help.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shelby ... I love you dearly! Mama loved you more than anything in the world, and I know she's smiling down on you and so incredibly proud of you! You are an amazing woman, and I'm proud to be your aunt.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Love you!!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-40675591414677072402015-08-29T18:13:00.001-04:002016-03-01T13:03:08.264-05:00Pantry Stew<div>
Awe heck. Mr. Saucy is going love the leftovers from tonight's stew!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbyxz_NWU6jCh2zO9bPNQYLAk61IrTxmgy4chrXUan0N5dhOONzhhmRauehmZXftZz8opP-vzJPgKLYAnaSmvJw2IpGdRr9lZs-6bxQUtiO_YkZ7cjdMW75a6W51b76ozGVVcRJOweDT8/s640/blogger-image--793693196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbyxz_NWU6jCh2zO9bPNQYLAk61IrTxmgy4chrXUan0N5dhOONzhhmRauehmZXftZz8opP-vzJPgKLYAnaSmvJw2IpGdRr9lZs-6bxQUtiO_YkZ7cjdMW75a6W51b76ozGVVcRJOweDT8/s640/blogger-image--793693196.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2 lbs stew meat </div>
<div>
Olive Oil</div>
<div>
1 onion</div>
<div>
3-4-7 garlic cloves</div>
<div>
6"sprig of fresh rosemary</div>
<div>
3-4 6" sprigs of fresh thyme</div>
<div>
Bay leaf</div>
<div>
Salt </div>
<div>
Pepper (if your kids won't freak the crap out)</div>
<div>
1 big can of whole peeled tomatoes, or diced toms, your choice. (I had whole, so that's what I used.)</div>
<div>
1 empty tomato can of water </div>
<div>
1 cup rice </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Onions and garlic get cooked in olive oil. </div>
<div>
Toss in fresh herb sprigs. And bay leaf. (Don't bother taking thyme and rosemary off of the stems. They cook in the stew, falling off of the stem, and you just remove the stems before serving.)</div>
<div>
The meat gets added. </div>
<div>
Cook until meat is brown all over. You can do batches if you want, I didn't. </div>
<div>
Add tomatoes, fill the can with water and add that too. </div>
<div>
Stir. Cover. Cook baby. Cook. </div>
<div>
Low and slow. </div>
<div>
You could put all of this into a crockpot I guess, but I don't have any luck with crockpots. </div>
<div>
When the meat it fall apart tender and you're good and hungry, add the rice. </div>
<div>
Stir. Watch it. Adjust the temp. Add more water if your rice needs it. </div>
<div>
When the rice is cooked you may eat. </div>
<div>
You may eat it before the rice is fully cooked if you want, but it won't be a pleasant experience. </div>
<div>
But hey. You be you.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-57615523755717986332015-07-07T17:31:00.001-04:002015-09-28T10:32:18.713-04:00Garden 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANeadu7-UEySNbn9euIntYRxn7KJS4BL6e-GnTCjFtNbJMn3CEu9z4CYZEMSOoncPIJMhOyz7tf94uxJT5xKc9PxOiwrpID-I8y-6Po1Lt6EFBfsTCo2x6uRxRESH7yYgcrFQ6hiDYk0/s640/blogger-image--110642721.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANeadu7-UEySNbn9euIntYRxn7KJS4BL6e-GnTCjFtNbJMn3CEu9z4CYZEMSOoncPIJMhOyz7tf94uxJT5xKc9PxOiwrpID-I8y-6Po1Lt6EFBfsTCo2x6uRxRESH7yYgcrFQ6hiDYk0/s640/blogger-image--110642721.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
The porch, which has the wisteria growing up the pergola. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTD8-L4mzGrO6uLDt2qGPTr7bNteKOPXKyN1FqUg6YFohV6zNNMp7_7f9caisArnKLWS4sUd8o0WDWTyxUUWlkSt6-UcX5rF6C_smjt6sMGpPxxTz3j4M9Z7PF6J3bbQe8jVr_H_w-8_M/s640/blogger-image--1462382814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTD8-L4mzGrO6uLDt2qGPTr7bNteKOPXKyN1FqUg6YFohV6zNNMp7_7f9caisArnKLWS4sUd8o0WDWTyxUUWlkSt6-UcX5rF6C_smjt6sMGpPxxTz3j4M9Z7PF6J3bbQe8jVr_H_w-8_M/s640/blogger-image--1462382814.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Wide shot of the porch. Same wisteria on the right, Floyyd the Ficus in the center, and moon flower in the pot on the left growing up the other side of the pergola. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUKLAf6XBEo3_Ego5bQacBQr9aT-UcCYTiEEOpm3NMpINCEOvCTkNzJgUoIf9_KIHgdB9-YL6uNHV9n6NXlPoMdT4a_B2EKdF2pKOaT696hkNoQklaxHQeLD-rdqBEvJqQzA9VjgqJ8g/s640/blogger-image--73069418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOUKLAf6XBEo3_Ego5bQacBQr9aT-UcCYTiEEOpm3NMpINCEOvCTkNzJgUoIf9_KIHgdB9-YL6uNHV9n6NXlPoMdT4a_B2EKdF2pKOaT696hkNoQklaxHQeLD-rdqBEvJqQzA9VjgqJ8g/s640/blogger-image--73069418.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
The strawberries are sending out a second crop. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUyFGsfpYS8XfPRJMQE7B8zRAuxBDqjVOTFJtIuW9fspJjvIs5j9l7RMIeYEj7eQhByXNY2w7KjttCK3dLiGyvBMwKWuZBTX7dnQj7w3IcRWoUwMXORoXbcXr56iK1QnM5DnkHv9duHc/s640/blogger-image-901077528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUyFGsfpYS8XfPRJMQE7B8zRAuxBDqjVOTFJtIuW9fspJjvIs5j9l7RMIeYEj7eQhByXNY2w7KjttCK3dLiGyvBMwKWuZBTX7dnQj7w3IcRWoUwMXORoXbcXr56iK1QnM5DnkHv9duHc/s640/blogger-image-901077528.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
The giant mutant zucchini!!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtyzGcY8aa9ehyzFPCCfnX6k4uku1rtMYGomLV023x2VBbkogYqj8f5IQzEy86VSD9JrkuvhEC5_swwk1SZwXs531QHYZdoasbjvb5xGqr01JhMoqRlnPtMSOsa_V2Hi2OknrqIDqKqc/s640/blogger-image--582331646.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtyzGcY8aa9ehyzFPCCfnX6k4uku1rtMYGomLV023x2VBbkogYqj8f5IQzEy86VSD9JrkuvhEC5_swwk1SZwXs531QHYZdoasbjvb5xGqr01JhMoqRlnPtMSOsa_V2Hi2OknrqIDqKqc/s640/blogger-image--582331646.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Only one tomato plant this year. I had a bout of blossom-end-rot that I had to fight off. So far I've only harvested 2 ripe tomatoes this season. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtF__aiQeJwTxL9GIIBBVt3jPPzf9ESTkVxzw8FGxst1fBxcJGTc0nURXg85IyMNZcVc-NB_pD36nvjdlmhf8ngVS6vR4HtmXRKLUnTTQ5sNZL97iGZrGHF7dVN8U1O0V9gDE81q7tm00/s640/blogger-image--1442649922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtF__aiQeJwTxL9GIIBBVt3jPPzf9ESTkVxzw8FGxst1fBxcJGTc0nURXg85IyMNZcVc-NB_pD36nvjdlmhf8ngVS6vR4HtmXRKLUnTTQ5sNZL97iGZrGHF7dVN8U1O0V9gDE81q7tm00/s640/blogger-image--1442649922.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
The hot pepper plant that I can't remember it's name. But it made my lip go numb, so it's a good one. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
There are also 2 varieties of bell pepper and cucumber plays as well, but they're impressingly unproductive. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
We also have sweet potatoes growing in a few places. The herbs are still thriving in their pots on the porch, so hopefully the rest of the produce will catch on and catch up soon. </div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-73137909222372002432015-07-06T18:25:00.000-04:002015-07-06T18:25:28.580-04:00BootCamp Day 1<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here we go again. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yup. I've joined a new gym. But it's not a gym-gym. It's a Fit Body Boot Camp. If you've never heard of such a thing, here's a link.<a href="http://www.fitbodybootcamp.com/gainesvillefitnessbootcamp/">Gainesville FitBodyBootCamp</a>. It's a 30 minute routine that is NONSTOP. From the time the trainer/coach hits the volume up button on the music, we jump, step, move, pull, lift, and sweat like there's no tomorrow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I went for an initial trial last week and fell head over heels in love with the activities, facility, and owners. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm currently in a 21-day challenge. If I win the challenge I get 2 months free membership. I earn points by weight lost, inches lost, body fat percentage lost, number of times I check-in on social media, and the number of times I'm at the gym. I'm totally going to win, by the way. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, it's exciting, and I'm having a blast. I have always loved working out, hated running, and have always had the hardest time just getting up and getting there. But I'm feeling pretty good about this. The kids are cooperating, they understand that this is my time to do something for me. They have their sports, Daddy has the shooting range and coaching and playing various sports throughout the year for charity, and this is my "thing". They're old enough to get it now and to not be total pills when it's time to go. That makes it infinitely easier for me, to be honest. Y'all know I'm the queen of excuses, so having the kids on board is very important to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wish me luck, cross your fingers, and perhaps even say a little prayer for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll keep you posted... </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-74767962566446156842015-06-19T09:59:00.001-04:002015-06-19T09:59:19.412-04:00Looking For Advice.Our daughter is 5. She's very smart and perfectly capable of picking up her own toys and cleaning her own messes. <div><br></div><div>However, she pitches a MASSIVE fit when asked to do so, and what should be a very simple 2-minute tidying project becomes a 2-day battle. </div><div><br></div><div>What am I doing wrong? How do I find the way to get through to her that if she has made the mess she can clean up the mess? </div><div><br></div><div>We have taken away privileges and certain toys as punishments, but she just goes and finds other things to play with and gets into even more trouble. </div><div><br></div><div>We've tried rewards. "After you've picked up all of your dollies, you can watch one Bubble Guppies."</div><div><br></div><div>I've tried ignoring her, yelling at her, whispering to her, singing to her, talking to her, and nothing helps. </div><div><br></div><div>She collapses on the floor in a tantrum state when asked to do the simplest of projects. </div><div><br></div><div>Put your books back on the shelf. "But that will take FOREVER!!", she wails. Well, not if you just go do it. </div><div><br></div><div>We even help by giving her very small and specific tasks. Put your clothes in your hamper. Put your dress-up clothes in your chest. Put your barbies in their bin. Put your stuffed animals in the basket. She just seems to flat-out refuse. </div><div><br></div><div>So... I'm asking for help. What do we do? How do I get her to help clean up her messes? I'm at a loss. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-89760752376471669272015-06-17T10:39:00.001-04:002015-06-17T10:39:24.918-04:00Pedicure Lovin'I'm sitting in the salon getting my nails done and figured I'm do a little blogging while my hands are free. <div><br></div><div>It's very hard for me to ask for "extra's". I want fancy toes today and I picked a picture from Pinterest that I love. I asked about it and they said yes, but it's going to cost extra. That's fine I get it. But because my pinky toenail is so itty bitty, the manager told me it didn't make sense for me to get the polka-dots on all of my toes because you wouldn't be able to see the color after the dots were applied. </div><div><br></div><div>We went back and forth, I was suddenly embarrassed that I had asked for something special, and decided I'd just do a single color and polka dots on my big toe only. </div><div><br></div><div>But then after thinking about it, I decided I really want my rainbow toes and dots. So, I'll do the rainbow toes with dots on my big toe only, then solid fingernails with a pretty design on my them. We'll see. The nail on my right middle finger is shorter than all the rest, so they might have another idea for me once they get to my hands. </div><div><br></div><div>Stay tuned. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-86655402564841597982015-04-29T10:34:00.000-04:002015-05-16T15:15:41.397-04:00Genna Lake's Flowders<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Genna turned 5 this year and she really wanted her very own flower garden.</span></div><div><br></div><div>So ... Mr Saucy, aka The Daddy Person, aka My Honey, aka Patrick made her her very own flower bed, and we asked family and friends who came by for her party to bring flowers rather than toys to fill her garden.</div><div><br></div><div>She LOVES it. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUGI07rqMUzk8GW_-qfuRdMqr8HlT1FK5A1HlMULFeqDGMb7NbTzrNh7sc4rV6f6BxFFaEiT-4AnipIaRTfc2a0nud3uBNxaLZ6CvBVikjtpxn9z8z6cQSBe5EIRCU-EzsSDn6hSCEH4/s640/blogger-image-1879987188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUGI07rqMUzk8GW_-qfuRdMqr8HlT1FK5A1HlMULFeqDGMb7NbTzrNh7sc4rV6f6BxFFaEiT-4AnipIaRTfc2a0nud3uBNxaLZ6CvBVikjtpxn9z8z6cQSBe5EIRCU-EzsSDn6hSCEH4/s640/blogger-image-1879987188.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">First Bed. Also has blueberries. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_1l_IDRXfr5MysgUfSHv7Lpdass4-ewzAtWhOGf-7sNlnGTG-GPLVkLP49cjSLeK4qXfqggtFoe4TRmi_kcWRwcjZW5bHiBK5R_LxqaxqXj0OJzF6wOqYyW9e06EBDRioGT1tNUQxp8/s640/blogger-image--575165875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB_1l_IDRXfr5MysgUfSHv7Lpdass4-ewzAtWhOGf-7sNlnGTG-GPLVkLP49cjSLeK4qXfqggtFoe4TRmi_kcWRwcjZW5bHiBK5R_LxqaxqXj0OJzF6wOqYyW9e06EBDRioGT1tNUQxp8/s640/blogger-image--575165875.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Second Bed. Also has grapes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghVBn49iqUNHNMW9IykH8k3oexlcWyYrhRWuubUSC8iJ9BuiSpQb2EbJEUwGWlys_rQZGyGmG48Of-CHSOLiNbOWesAxa1IkQBpO-IKqDeyJSUBCZLCIinhpjtjxp138JYe7SaJhexNfw/s640/blogger-image-1989110431.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghVBn49iqUNHNMW9IykH8k3oexlcWyYrhRWuubUSC8iJ9BuiSpQb2EbJEUwGWlys_rQZGyGmG48Of-CHSOLiNbOWesAxa1IkQBpO-IKqDeyJSUBCZLCIinhpjtjxp138JYe7SaJhexNfw/s640/blogger-image-1989110431.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Both Beds with clematis growing between. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8Yb925U-zNqhsP9FUKzfMj32SWklDhdyaXtvEOysA5hDtL4KjHo7xjNNWinyYAGXruwO1cJtvHzw5Y8uNTzGqJX0dCvpJwpMUu-G_aQgBoVS_lTlutoXmsUazMad3G5f26V9HmHLi24/s640/blogger-image--547514107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8Yb925U-zNqhsP9FUKzfMj32SWklDhdyaXtvEOysA5hDtL4KjHo7xjNNWinyYAGXruwO1cJtvHzw5Y8uNTzGqJX0dCvpJwpMUu-G_aQgBoVS_lTlutoXmsUazMad3G5f26V9HmHLi24/s640/blogger-image--547514107.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrN7aDB1x9AtGxMoggLTrnf3U6-bETVBuzeFjdYlGOrNEsb30kJSnseJw2R5hKHwbyLbuFBY7Thhu5u1FCb1Q2CByv1MBU3B4ZracevRSe_hATRclHYFPVP36tiPBf6Evwq6uPOjvexs/s640/blogger-image--562086772.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrN7aDB1x9AtGxMoggLTrnf3U6-bETVBuzeFjdYlGOrNEsb30kJSnseJw2R5hKHwbyLbuFBY7Thhu5u1FCb1Q2CByv1MBU3B4ZracevRSe_hATRclHYFPVP36tiPBf6Evwq6uPOjvexs/s640/blogger-image--562086772.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">GG watering her flowders. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pui4YrTAptdIHLkTac8GGJ8o8Q1uZd8rkUg_vNRgUSVsIEVnzak30l2VokXR_nu9CDyYuZ3M-v_5A-ZG7hsVgvMCFuDrApffQRrslkSSgstjMJT22YkCFwa25fhuO1ynB2rjf4CjU4Q/s640/blogger-image-1714095857.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pui4YrTAptdIHLkTac8GGJ8o8Q1uZd8rkUg_vNRgUSVsIEVnzak30l2VokXR_nu9CDyYuZ3M-v_5A-ZG7hsVgvMCFuDrApffQRrslkSSgstjMJT22YkCFwa25fhuO1ynB2rjf4CjU4Q/s640/blogger-image-1714095857.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Inspecting the hose and faucet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvur-k_MshsieV7QxdEVXmPdHpfoYjR_s24fiwztz2XQutWmtjAsUrf8zKbn99LdZI_oCAM0Kwc-LPYXDgGvi7KFg5qAqArJW50RXf4-od-12cGbEn7UBQF9RTfXDmjGLE_TfBN6BG0w/s640/blogger-image-660675313.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJvur-k_MshsieV7QxdEVXmPdHpfoYjR_s24fiwztz2XQutWmtjAsUrf8zKbn99LdZI_oCAM0Kwc-LPYXDgGvi7KFg5qAqArJW50RXf4-od-12cGbEn7UBQF9RTfXDmjGLE_TfBN6BG0w/s640/blogger-image-660675313.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Watering from the bucket. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut2W6xM9JoDeOqsfmvLg4QrMAJfbN8oCRsqNTgroQ_pwSPmHA17qyPjCMQzhZm2NAcUcj3LWdENITUSBK703T-TMcb1L3osL4kx14LQLtCzraoav7ZEnl4k6lS1U6Gs1TQRXqgWtm9WY/s640/blogger-image--1270230416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut2W6xM9JoDeOqsfmvLg4QrMAJfbN8oCRsqNTgroQ_pwSPmHA17qyPjCMQzhZm2NAcUcj3LWdENITUSBK703T-TMcb1L3osL4kx14LQLtCzraoav7ZEnl4k6lS1U6Gs1TQRXqgWtm9WY/s640/blogger-image--1270230416.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Happy Girl!!</div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-39480945861284263082015-02-10T09:02:00.001-05:002015-02-10T09:02:21.831-05:00Keepin' It Real, Yo!This mornings two-hour delay meant fun in the kitchen involving pancakes, red food coloring, and an assortment of eatable creations that in no way resemble hearts. <div><br></div><div>See. </div><div><br></div><div>This one I call "The Creepy Ultrasound". </div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XvmshZg6NuuGwuCIZs52Qh98SgrfNtyZa81ke1XPWiTkE17e2TiGGRUA_XwUkUetctXRZgkZIfTEgUygPXCyyEE03PaT5jIZ7yz_swsZsXjbAIkVxpzkUiCOP2-4O7XfEr1K7Nl_A0o/s640/blogger-image--520757271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XvmshZg6NuuGwuCIZs52Qh98SgrfNtyZa81ke1XPWiTkE17e2TiGGRUA_XwUkUetctXRZgkZIfTEgUygPXCyyEE03PaT5jIZ7yz_swsZsXjbAIkVxpzkUiCOP2-4O7XfEr1K7Nl_A0o/s640/blogger-image--520757271.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">See the little dude inside smiling and waving?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This one has a slight "splat" from flipping before it was fully set. We shall call it the "Don King" Face Plant". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTFQsxbpJQqsMpxWoDGwqQUfjjfp16lWiA7SLtKFbZb1D0pRR6Dw6LixW0hu6J_9QNRHbnNvMs-etDlyS5eKkVMHvFSOpqxE7CemnFgsdbvC4uVvL6ApKS9zbmI5x9-pPbTxuv4tvf4tU/s640/blogger-image--795315454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTFQsxbpJQqsMpxWoDGwqQUfjjfp16lWiA7SLtKFbZb1D0pRR6Dw6LixW0hu6J_9QNRHbnNvMs-etDlyS5eKkVMHvFSOpqxE7CemnFgsdbvC4uVvL6ApKS9zbmI5x9-pPbTxuv4tvf4tU/s640/blogger-image--795315454.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This one Conner told me kinda looked like I heart who's butt exploded. We'll leave it at that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialD1swQ8yRQnWkxrosjRp7nd_DbAjUknFtrWjEmdv_2WYQg9ocV-6TTRl2rrGRxzEVxISqDcp2mX6XcIzMXiwxNLrTueIw6jRJDZ61fcMo6IPQyqMge6XzgjOwlaQkUDnR7wg-VBgrxU/s640/blogger-image-747518074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialD1swQ8yRQnWkxrosjRp7nd_DbAjUknFtrWjEmdv_2WYQg9ocV-6TTRl2rrGRxzEVxISqDcp2mX6XcIzMXiwxNLrTueIw6jRJDZ61fcMo6IPQyqMge6XzgjOwlaQkUDnR7wg-VBgrxU/s640/blogger-image-747518074.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And finally we end with "The Double Mammogram". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDWkqKwVGp9bXosXqwt60RlgI2K8LwnDRa4saYN1lhNx71a9SUaMYx_uTg0s__IqXVPFV84etC9nPg1LzkpjEd71voeAgiN2ZCT3AgO5zVfWgVuMj5ReW9Gk09OP9Uy2P3uLgIVk5L6w/s640/blogger-image--237339296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDWkqKwVGp9bXosXqwt60RlgI2K8LwnDRa4saYN1lhNx71a9SUaMYx_uTg0s__IqXVPFV84etC9nPg1LzkpjEd71voeAgiN2ZCT3AgO5zVfWgVuMj5ReW9Gk09OP9Uy2P3uLgIVk5L6w/s640/blogger-image--237339296.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Enjoy your Pinterest Breakfast Fails my friends. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">For no matter how strange and disturbing our REAL LIFE creations turn out looking, they're just as delicious as the fancy ones. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">See. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfetpcICKDx9qU5ya8Vd3rj1YTQ3q3vS3WBQbRmB_g7t7Kl6U2r4mqRwsZgya1NkuqFJyEP-2k6AeFRQA6qlRvp9VHaYo_d3YqLMA9-ixuO8kiU_pGJxwz1aoO7BtW7SvIKVh_Vkl7G4c/s640/blogger-image-666111869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfetpcICKDx9qU5ya8Vd3rj1YTQ3q3vS3WBQbRmB_g7t7Kl6U2r4mqRwsZgya1NkuqFJyEP-2k6AeFRQA6qlRvp9VHaYo_d3YqLMA9-ixuO8kiU_pGJxwz1aoO7BtW7SvIKVh_Vkl7G4c/s640/blogger-image-666111869.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Ps... I was referring to the pancakes being eaten by my favorite girl-creation. Whom I don't think is disturbing at all, but is a little strange. </div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-47615623610801006212015-01-13T11:51:00.001-05:002015-01-13T11:51:50.964-05:00ChickizzaPossibly my best invention his far.<div><br></div><div>Chickizza. </div><div><br></div><div>Ingredients:</div><div>Olive oil</div><div>Butter</div><div>Chicken breasts</div><div>Pizza sauce of choice</div><div>Pizza cheese of choice</div><div>Pizza toppings of choice</div><div><br></div><div>Heat oven to 400</div><div><br></div><div>Put the chicken breast into a large heavy plastic bag, and pound out the chicken breasts until they are very thin. These will be your pizza crusts, so make them even and very thin.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57aaZ6HI9BL7bVsrCAjSFVd3IQ3v5KneOh1EIcu9YjLTG1Vtz-yMaUAYyUC4psCErCD54eTJI02tnx_H_GBCvdFzLZrKX0M3gx3jPcefEzcviAMRO-D18g6DHw6m5AO2D8xYXBKMZKsw/s640/blogger-image-297649247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57aaZ6HI9BL7bVsrCAjSFVd3IQ3v5KneOh1EIcu9YjLTG1Vtz-yMaUAYyUC4psCErCD54eTJI02tnx_H_GBCvdFzLZrKX0M3gx3jPcefEzcviAMRO-D18g6DHw6m5AO2D8xYXBKMZKsw/s640/blogger-image-297649247.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTLM0fNn19JbOXwLle0yo2dXeS9ZgYOt-MS5iGuKTUHDQ9j2QmmqRpJ0xn51dPHEcg7JK19mBU5KUKqGM8xDFtF9jk22fAJ6G3ZHyB5aH1WJrdfQhopS0-NE_p0H_AE7gGt8lylzP_rA/s640/blogger-image--1651349115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYTLM0fNn19JbOXwLle0yo2dXeS9ZgYOt-MS5iGuKTUHDQ9j2QmmqRpJ0xn51dPHEcg7JK19mBU5KUKqGM8xDFtF9jk22fAJ6G3ZHyB5aH1WJrdfQhopS0-NE_p0H_AE7gGt8lylzP_rA/s640/blogger-image--1651349115.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Stack them on a plate next to the stove so you can season and cook them without having to drip chicken all over your kitchen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_BZEE02JJr0-swVV9pKcdv1-2-CrBcCA_wlwcRuHFTsTQZ570QYadPrKMYp-Wx6JA8pURSEyFBGd2VFc4Vx4X9kPpCmmQzvwHHQtEvAPw_Qv8Wlj2Q_1lewYhZ174LVVjaHcrOk7WY0/s640/blogger-image-1331829499.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE_BZEE02JJr0-swVV9pKcdv1-2-CrBcCA_wlwcRuHFTsTQZ570QYadPrKMYp-Wx6JA8pURSEyFBGd2VFc4Vx4X9kPpCmmQzvwHHQtEvAPw_Qv8Wlj2Q_1lewYhZ174LVVjaHcrOk7WY0/s640/blogger-image-1331829499.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div><div><br></div><div>Put a big heavy skillet on the stove on medium high heat and warm ypur olive oil and melt your butter.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFrTjQjbz442huUwMcXiKTTR214HoLbKL7bAM-hVBrHxtqG-LFXRftq6OA30FadksCbaa_ba8jJN7wkAlYgapy6dehVzXZomd3B5rjYuvXLaTBD5W8AvqT-EtCV9zNzCcQIsjdgJaG-8/s640/blogger-image-2032100211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFrTjQjbz442huUwMcXiKTTR214HoLbKL7bAM-hVBrHxtqG-LFXRftq6OA30FadksCbaa_ba8jJN7wkAlYgapy6dehVzXZomd3B5rjYuvXLaTBD5W8AvqT-EtCV9zNzCcQIsjdgJaG-8/s640/blogger-image-2032100211.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Sprinkle the chicken with salt and place the salted side down. Salt the other side once it's in the pan. Brown the chicken breasts in the pan, on both sides, putting one or two at a time, based on how big your skillet is.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4N1OBOpKKf4B_dlF7LPZn-ADzRXEYLiPny7uBTKxXQDcFGa9YE4gACnyP8IIUj_VyoG07tqyYMX1nsfK64a3HLm05-cWa07qLLDWH01RCvA9g0U3yqDPJ_tQLOpRpF4n6d6R7S6ETsQ/s640/blogger-image-1105574614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4N1OBOpKKf4B_dlF7LPZn-ADzRXEYLiPny7uBTKxXQDcFGa9YE4gACnyP8IIUj_VyoG07tqyYMX1nsfK64a3HLm05-cWa07qLLDWH01RCvA9g0U3yqDPJ_tQLOpRpF4n6d6R7S6ETsQ/s640/blogger-image-1105574614.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTkQNZv0AbRXplHEFYv2XKuesdkkIBh5zz9KlWFZYpdXmD3pMcqZ57HM-QhxH6d3AMyjvq33T96ypIZlWEy9Z6iZrCwBHNFo1D9oTyw-3lEZs2ThOln7WB3tyROA3xTUiC3kD-oQtBNc/s640/blogger-image--2125365112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkTkQNZv0AbRXplHEFYv2XKuesdkkIBh5zz9KlWFZYpdXmD3pMcqZ57HM-QhxH6d3AMyjvq33T96ypIZlWEy9Z6iZrCwBHNFo1D9oTyw-3lEZs2ThOln7WB3tyROA3xTUiC3kD-oQtBNc/s640/blogger-image--2125365112.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAIFIBDfT0w4MM0-OA_7eE4uX4di9zZOxvsQCNRT-XKNcL4eKV-RASsx4kRNXZVmSlldkt_6Ab89dJkejclBSaEX-0qQxt0T8m3Wciow5HRUKu8fxANkhFcviff4qsCC1B749TW38sKw/s640/blogger-image--721053924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifAIFIBDfT0w4MM0-OA_7eE4uX4di9zZOxvsQCNRT-XKNcL4eKV-RASsx4kRNXZVmSlldkt_6Ab89dJkejclBSaEX-0qQxt0T8m3Wciow5HRUKu8fxANkhFcviff4qsCC1B749TW38sKw/s640/blogger-image--721053924.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Place the browned and cooked through chicken breasts on a foil lined baking sheet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-Y9iGZQ-qIy9pLQRMbzGBkTVoYQpZh7fidedacaEc7pQrmGJGLUu6CpGktoLr-aFdKaZ74DYYPyxUtCZmJ7YQ_CTQEVQbfq4ZtNGMdsHbZXe8O3O7E3OvjhyphenhyphenQCG-Fzozmx0LkFZ-6vg/s640/blogger-image--994443900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx-Y9iGZQ-qIy9pLQRMbzGBkTVoYQpZh7fidedacaEc7pQrmGJGLUu6CpGktoLr-aFdKaZ74DYYPyxUtCZmJ7YQ_CTQEVQbfq4ZtNGMdsHbZXe8O3O7E3OvjhyphenhyphenQCG-Fzozmx0LkFZ-6vg/s640/blogger-image--994443900.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Now you have your zero carb and gluten free pizza crusts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We put on typical red style marinara pizza sauce, shredded mozzarella, and pepperoni.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakPdUSmNWXVRWoqMmoaAgRSIsBO9b3exOZoa-DLs-2fQlTEAp9GEvkaupboxz02R7v0O37hNHAiD1WsHV_Xw6YEUsEbZvrs_FLLvUpPcE2meWGRsFgb8vcaNSNq2DzEjBXb9ZnT5uzCk/s640/blogger-image--170457496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiakPdUSmNWXVRWoqMmoaAgRSIsBO9b3exOZoa-DLs-2fQlTEAp9GEvkaupboxz02R7v0O37hNHAiD1WsHV_Xw6YEUsEbZvrs_FLLvUpPcE2meWGRsFgb8vcaNSNq2DzEjBXb9ZnT5uzCk/s640/blogger-image--170457496.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Oops... I forgot a pre-cooked picture with pepperoni.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div>They went into the 400 degree oven for 8 minutes. We thin key could have stood a full 10 to really melt the cheese, but we were too excited to try them, so we pulled them out at 8 minutes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4-KkJ2EL0tB-UU5kLhHFuXYQE7hBvF_XsbOgUhCRadouGwcmUEVil4H5jkOaP4lMAn9NqJHHkMnEa6cZjvYbPA6ZgboSRvItJ4cd_j-TdXyePHZNF0q8YRcBFG2xMTq9Qo-bwISC-cs/s640/blogger-image-2134981375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH4-KkJ2EL0tB-UU5kLhHFuXYQE7hBvF_XsbOgUhCRadouGwcmUEVil4H5jkOaP4lMAn9NqJHHkMnEa6cZjvYbPA6ZgboSRvItJ4cd_j-TdXyePHZNF0q8YRcBFG2xMTq9Qo-bwISC-cs/s640/blogger-image-2134981375.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As you can see, I made 6. Conner ate 1, Mr. Saucy and I had 2 each, and he took one for lunch today. The girl had leftover Mac-N-Cheese, and we were all totally ok with that, because it meant more Chickizza for us.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I honestly took one bite and fell in love. I then took a second bite and knew I had to run a taste next door. I put another bite on my fork, put on my shoes, ran out of the house, scared he wee-hawkin out of my neighbors husband who was working on the car in the driveway in the dark, rang the doorbell, shoved the fork into my neighbors mouth, high fives her when I saw her eyes light up, yen turned and ran back hime to finish my supper. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's totally going in the regular rotation of The Saucy Dish family dished. Our Friday night pizza movie nights will no longer involve heating a frozen pizza or ordering delivery.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hello Chickizza. I love you.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Stay Saucy, and Dish.</div><br></div><br></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-87668294648394439162015-01-05T11:24:00.000-05:002015-01-05T11:24:25.162-05:00Gross<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mr. Saucy and I have a joint New Years Resolution. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Along with the ever popular Lose Weight, Eat Healthy, Exercise Daily ... we have ... a secret one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Don't Be Gross"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Because ... we're gross. We are. I mean, we're fat and lazy and gross. We don't always do the dishes at night, we let the trash can(s) fill up to a balancing act that would make a physics professor proud, and we step over dust bunnies the size of rhinoceroses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I finally got fed up and decided to clean the kitchen. Like really CLEAN the kitchen. And I was so grossed out, I thought I was going to gag. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We had a bunch of decorative things up on the top of the cabinets that were coated in cooking grease residue that had floated into the air over the past several years and just clung to items in the kitchen that aren't used regularly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The layer of yuck on top of the cabinets was just as disgusting. We used a powerful degreaser, a plastic scrubbie, and a mixture of hot water and Palmolive dish soap to scrub then wipe up the yuck.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once everything was cleaned up, we organized the cabinets to make space for these things to live inside the cabinets and not on top of the cabinets. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know that as the full-time at-home parent that I "should" be able to get everything spic</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> and span every single day. I mean, Beverly Cleaver did it in heels, pearls, and with a 24" waist, so why can't I manage in an age of convenience</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, ease, and technology? I don't know. Ok ... I don't know. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So ... yesterday while I was writing out this week's meal plan and exercise plan, I added a cleaning schedule too. It includes which night is which kids turn to clean the table, which days I dust, sweep, mop, clean bathrooms, change the sheets, wash the towels, etc.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This may seem second nature to you, but to me, it's just not. I have a super-human ability to overlook clutter and crud. So ... when it gets to the point that I think it's nasty, it's probably closer to toxic for the neat-freaks out there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We're not about to be on an episode of Hoarders, not even CLOSE, but it is time to realize that 4 humans, 2 huge dogs, and an indoor/outdoor cat can generate a lot of dirt. And we're gross. Just gross. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, let's stop being gross. And here's how I hope I can make this happen during the week so I can relax on the weekends, not feel guilty about relaxing, and not be upset that other's aren't helping.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's the cleaning plan for this week...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Monday = Dust everywhere and Vacuum Downstairs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tuesday = Sweep all hardwood and tile, Mop, Laundry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wednesday = Vacuum bedrooms and clean the bathrooms</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thursday = Laundry, Sheets, Towels</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Friday = Wipe cabinets, sweep, mop</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's the meal plan for this week...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Monday = Pork Tenderloin and Carrots</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tuesday = Fish and Spinach</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wednesday = Venison Stuffed Peppers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thursday = Chicken and Broccoli</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Friday = Pizza for the kids, Venison steaks and spinach for Mr. Saucy and me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, here's my workout plan for this week...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Monday = Walk and Pump</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tuesday = Pump and Treadmill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wednesday = Walk and Pump</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thursday = Pump and Treadmill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Friday = Pump and Treadmill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Saturday = Walk and Pump</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sunday = Walk</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For my work week, I need to get into Wordpress to work on a project for a friend's web page, I need to get more blog posts written for my Dad's blog, I need to tweet more, and blog more for my own blog, and I need to get more active in my BeachBody coaching.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For my peace of mind week, I want to get some sewing done, some pictures taken, some film developed, some prints made, some books read, and some clutter tossed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-32472397479823005612014-12-27T16:45:00.000-05:002014-12-27T16:45:22.975-05:0035 mm Camera<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I received a real-live 35mm camera for Christmas this year. I'm kind of a goof, and asked for the 35mm instead of a digital, so Mr. Saucy was very upset with me that he had found the EXACT thing that I asked for as my big surprise present, only to see my face fall as I realized it wasn't also digital, which was what I THOUGHT I was asking for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But ... the truth is ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I LOVE IT!! And I'm so happy for this little mistake, because it's even more perfect than I had thought it would be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I LOVE taking REAL pictures. I love focusing on what I want to focus on. I love getting right up onto a leaf to get the detail of the veins in it, or getting the light to come through a twisting vine just right. I love clicking the shutter release and it actually TAKES the picture right then and there without having to wait for all it's automatic settings to figure out what it thinks I'm trying to take a picture of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've taken it all around the yard, playing with the focus and zoom, adjusting for the light, getting right up on a huge blob of sap oozing from a tree, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">getting beautiful shots of different plants, trees, and shadows, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">and making the kids stand perfectly still for minutes on end while I focus, then get them to both look straight ahead, stop fighting, quit trying to get the sun out of their faces so I can get a good shot.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After every picture each kid wanted to see. They still don't get it that they can't see the picture that I just took. This makes absolutely no sense to them what so ever. And to my horror, I realized I didn't know how to explain to my 6 year old how the guy at CVS was going to know how to color the picture. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">See, when I learned about photography, it was in the 1970's and my Daddy had a dark room in the basement. I would go down there with him, develop the film into negatives, then make contact prints, then we would pick out the pictures we wanted to print, then we'd use the projector and make them whatever size we wanted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'd help pour the solutions, slowly and gently swish the developing chemicals, wait for the timers to tell us when they go into the next solution, sue the wooden tongs to move the paper from one tray to the next, slowly swishing in that one, then the next one. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'd see the image come to life on the page, watch it deepen and emerge from a blank page of white paper into a glossy black and white photo. We'd rinse it off, then hang it to dry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I still remember the smell of each tray. I remember the way the photo paper felt when lifting it with the wooden tongs. I remember the slightly slimy, slick feeling when I got the solution on my fingers and Daddy made me rush to wash it off. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I also remember that we kept the developing trays in a shallow shelf that was pretty close to eye level for me when I was 5 or 6, but counter height to adults. In that shallow, low shelf, I would reach in to get the trays out for Daddy, and there would be a few dozen cave crickets in there looking back at me. I never minded them. That's just a part of what was in the dark room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't think I'm going to set up a dark room here at Awesome Central. I'm not even sure you can find the at home solutions anymore. I'm sure it would be a much bigger investment than I'm willing to jump into right now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But man oh man ... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I miss those smells and the time spent with Daddy and I miss watching the images come to life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Magic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-49567441086098022452014-12-19T15:19:00.001-05:002014-12-19T15:19:26.545-05:00Taco SoupSometimes the most simple dish is the most delicious. Today, for instance, I wanted soup. A warm, hearty bowl of rich soup. So, I thought of chicken tortilla. I have taco seasonings, corn tortillas in the freezer, frozen corn, chicken, and a can of refried beans. So I headed to the kitchen to whip it up.<div><br></div><div>But then I saw the leftover taco meat from Tuesday. And the leftover chicken stock from the latests batch that didn't get frozen.</div><div><br></div><div>So, into the pot went:</div><div><br></div><div>3 cups of chicken stock</div><div>2 cups of leftover taco meat (this week was beef and chicken)</div><div>1 can of refried beans</div><div>Frozen corn (I used the now empty can from the beans and filled that with the frozen corn as my measure)</div><div>1 cup of salsa</div><div><br></div><div>If I hadn't been so hungry, I would have toasted a couple of tortilla's to have a crunchy element with my soup, and if I had it on hand, I would have garnished with fresh cilantro. </div><div><br></div><div>But for a quick, "Oh My God, It's 3:00 Already" lunch, this was awesome.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDHcK9isRquiRmxW2ahiPl1UzJa4rE9XUJMiG5g7hfZfS0sGNsX85KvDiONp7ME6gCF3epvOGEH7_46Fdwr3mcMNcNQzymGITp6rlYqTRLTbvYqIsrb3wUyQOm6c-4EWBBi2viFMmdnQ/s640/blogger-image--1176174034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqDHcK9isRquiRmxW2ahiPl1UzJa4rE9XUJMiG5g7hfZfS0sGNsX85KvDiONp7ME6gCF3epvOGEH7_46Fdwr3mcMNcNQzymGITp6rlYqTRLTbvYqIsrb3wUyQOm6c-4EWBBi2viFMmdnQ/s640/blogger-image--1176174034.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-82924246574459446012014-12-18T11:15:00.001-05:002014-12-18T11:16:20.556-05:00Holiday Meal Planning<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I must admit ... one of my favorite things about any holiday or gathering is the food. Planning it, cooking it, watching the faces of my family and friends as they enjoy seeing it, smelling it, and eating it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I start to think about the food weeks before the holiday or event. Sometimes, I'm even thinking about it a few months ahead of time. Some people get grumpy right before Thanksgiving because retail stores put out Christmas decorations and some people feel this disrespects Thanksgiving, but I don't feel this way at all. I begin to think about Thanksgiving in October. As soon as the fall decorations hit the stores, I'm thinking about stuffing, turkey, and cranberries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So it should come as no surprise that right after Thanksgiving, I start to think of Christmas dinner. And on that same note, I start to peruse Pinterest for breakfast casserole ideas for Christmas morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This year, I'm going to make my sweet potato, sausage, and egg hash in the crock-pot. If it turns out like I hope, I'll post the recipe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For Christmas dinner, I'm planning on a mustard, garlic, herb roasted prime rib, baked mashed potato rosettes, mushroom gravy, and oven roasted acorn squash with brown sugar and pecans for dessert. None of us are big dessert eaters, so the squash with brown sugar and nuts will be a perfect sweet ending to the meal.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm still searching for a green veggie. We had green beans for Thanksgiving, and broccoli and green peas are standard family favorites for us, but I'm trying to think of another green veg that will be a little fancy, but still agreeable to the masses. Brussel sprouts are out. Asparagus is out. Artichokes are out. Creamed spinach is out. I think perhaps fresh spinach wilted in a simple mixture of butter, olive oil, and garlic would be lovely. Yes. That sounds perfect.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So ... what are you making for Christmas Dinner? Are you a turkey family? Or do you prefer a ham since you just finished the leftovers of turkey from Thanksgiving? We do a nice hunk of beef for Christmas. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday that you celebrate too!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-90018221135516926192014-12-07T12:20:00.000-05:002014-12-07T13:18:37.547-05:00Laundry Hacks<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've made 2 small but meaningful changes to the laundry "room" in the past few weeks that I wanted to share.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes ... this is about the extent of my domestic house-wife joy at the moment. In addition to the typical daily holiday shopping, cooking, cleaning, and decorating, pesky little things like clean clothes are still a priority around here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, it turns out, I am honestly the only one in the house who knows what "sort the laundry" means. Even if I purposely leave an article of each colored clothes in the 3-part hamper as an indicator, I'm still the only one who sees this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I thought about printing pictures of clothes and laminating them and affixing them somehow to the hamper. I thought about making a sign to hand over the 3-part hamper. I even cut out pictures from the Sunday sales flyers to make a collage for each compartment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But then, as I was holding a handful of multicolored sharpies, brilliance struck. And this is what came of it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU07ikp1-x3Y9y5kM4TjOx_az5MGelv9mPIreaD9xnU1dYoo27n2UJb93inHdK0MipiHwn3ym5Pl6hwKQeNCBG-EK0l5qzBqzLGsVxZBr0AYrGeG1jSjdWY9gf7QwcTqhPa8XZ_9xfJcY/s1600/carters+iphone+december+2014+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU07ikp1-x3Y9y5kM4TjOx_az5MGelv9mPIreaD9xnU1dYoo27n2UJb93inHdK0MipiHwn3ym5Pl6hwKQeNCBG-EK0l5qzBqzLGsVxZBr0AYrGeG1jSjdWY9gf7QwcTqhPa8XZ_9xfJcY/s1600/carters+iphone+december+2014+071.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We now have clearly marked darks, lights, and whites. By scribbling/coloring the white tubing with the colors associated with each compartment, I was able to indicate to everyone from the 42 year old to the 4 year old which articles of clothing go into which compartment. The only time they still get confused is with towels and colored undies. I bleach all towels and undies, regardless of color.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The next wave of brilliance came with a $2.00 price tag. With a pack of wooden clothespins from the dollar store and a tube of super glue from the dollar store, I was able to make this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0btBdhAb9IlETYmKueBd5FrRe7C8lV0GcPk82zQltGF0J8xG0X0wNd3z1GQ6XUGsZ_S4Oze784AejDqiXPqmabzPFjSbtpSK5-fsNu_KNbAlCXL2fAFv4wbifAwp_SAzCRQyVLTLbJM/s1600/carters+iphone+december+2014+070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB0btBdhAb9IlETYmKueBd5FrRe7C8lV0GcPk82zQltGF0J8xG0X0wNd3z1GQ6XUGsZ_S4Oze784AejDqiXPqmabzPFjSbtpSK5-fsNu_KNbAlCXL2fAFv4wbifAwp_SAzCRQyVLTLbJM/s1600/carters+iphone+december+2014+070.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpIfkhWTa-F0lgnsHlqWJKb5h_TFfxjltVcixOZfb7wvpBkZCzjczOc0rdAtbAUf1_RY_9G0D_iVLhfkgFmJYVQp8y8h-5k-gam7-CdzHgBHoYzMZcAfErqqJ4vCah_wL7vQ0lUnCQf4/s1600/carters+iphone+december+2014+069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpIfkhWTa-F0lgnsHlqWJKb5h_TFfxjltVcixOZfb7wvpBkZCzjczOc0rdAtbAUf1_RY_9G0D_iVLhfkgFmJYVQp8y8h-5k-gam7-CdzHgBHoYzMZcAfErqqJ4vCah_wL7vQ0lUnCQf4/s1600/carters+iphone+december+2014+069.JPG" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, we really do have this many unmatched socks. 8 feet in the family and this many missing socks. I glued some of the clothes pins farther apart than others so I could hang the longer socks from those without hiding any under/behind them. And by using super glue, it beautifully blessed my need for immediate gratification. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do these simple changes mean the laundry will forever be clean, folded and put away. Nope. Not even close. But it does mean that I will have less fits when I go to DO the laundry because by planning ahead, putting operating procedures in place, laying out the expectations clearly and simply, there should be a smooth operation from here on out.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right? I mean running a house should be easier than running a for-profit company, right? You set rules, you lead by example, and everyone does what there supposed to do.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yeah ... RIGHT!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-7882646089537352482014-12-06T18:22:00.001-05:002014-12-07T13:20:21.312-05:00Awe, Fudge!A friend just asked for an easy fudge recipe and I sent this to her. Figured I'd share it with y'all too.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
Marshmallow Cream Fudge</div>
<div>
I jar marshmallow cream</div>
<div>
1 1/2 cups sugar</div>
<div>
2/3 cup evaporated milk</div>
<div>
1/4 cup butter</div>
<div>
1/4 teaspoon salt</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
12 oz pkg chocolate pieces</div>
<div>
1/2 cup nuts if you want </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1 teaspoon vanilla</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Combine everything except vanilla, chocolate and nuts and bring to a full boil. Boil for 5 minutes over medium heat, stirring constantly. Remove from heat, add chocolate and stir until melted. Add nuts and 1 teaspoon vanilla. Pour into an 8" square pan lined with parchment or wax paper. Chill until firm, turn out, cut into squares.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've made it with PB chips, chocolate chips, swirls of PB and chocolate, butterscotch chips, etc. Its very easy. You can add anything you want before you set it. Chopped candy canes, nuts, dried cherries or craisins, go crazy.</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-81477544900610536552014-12-01T10:39:00.000-05:002014-12-07T13:50:08.863-05:00Running From The Truth<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Y'all, I done gone and lost my mind.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have signed up to run not one, but two races this coming year. The first is a half marathon in March. That's only four months from now! I need to be able to travel by foot 13.1 miles in just four months. I don't for a second think I'm going to be able to RUN this race, but I do at least need to be able to walk that distance by then. A few hop skipping running type jog steps along the way would be nice, but I'm honestly just hoping to be able to travel that far using my own muscles and feet.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dogs and I just got back from a little practice walk. My toes have fallen asleep, indicating it's time for new shoes, and the dogs are DONE. I didn't think Homer was going to make it. Honestly! I kept thinking I was going to have to call Mr. Saucy to come home from work to pick us up and drive us back home. No, I wouldn't have left my baby boy on the side of the road and gone home without him. Yes I would have asked My Honey to drive 15 miles back home to drive my angel Laprador home.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looks like we went about two miles this morning. I think Homer would have been happy with just one mile. Poor thing. He's old, BIG, and I think his joints are beginning to hurt him. The fuzzy girl had a blast though! She started foaming at the mouth with all the other doggie smells out in the world, which led to all the neighbors casually walking to the other side of the road to continue their walk on the other sidewalk. I don't know why a huge, wolf-like, part shepherd who's foaming at the mouth would instill trepidation in others, but I guess something about the presence of the three of us together made my fellow morning walkers feel better on the other side of the street.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first of the two runs that I've signed up for is sponsored by St. Jude Children's Hospital. Links to both races will be included at the bottom of the post if you would like to join the teams to run/walk or if you would prefer to donate to the cause.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second of the two runs is the Mudderella, which is a 6 mile obstacle course designed by women and it raises money for the nonprofit Futures Without Violence, which is dedicated to ending domestic violence. It's a noncompetitive course, so working together with your team to both encourage and help with obstacles is the name of the game here.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both of these causes are very near and dear to my heart. The idea of kids being sick is terrifying. I've lost too many loved ones to cancer, one of which was a friends child. It's just unthinkable that children would have to endure such a nasty nasty thing as cancer. Mr. Saucy's step-brother has a daughter who, before she entered Kindergarten, had battled cancer and beat it. I believe we'll find a way to destroy this beast before my time on earth is over, and we can only do that as long as facilities are funded for research, studies, and experimental medicines. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Domestic violence in every aspect is just as terrifying as any disease. To be afraid of your loved one, whether it be a partner, parent, or other family member is equally horrifying. Even though I was young when the transaction took place, my childhood home was sold to an organization who turned it into a shelter for battered women and children. Knowing that the home where I have such fond and safe memories is now sheltering others who truly need that love and protection makes me proud.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, that being said, here are the promised links for the two events that I have somehow allowed myself to sign up for.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lord help me...</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.eventbrite.com/e/mudderella-capital-region-saturday-july-25-2015-registration-12743928433">http://www.eventbrite.com/e/mudderella-capital-region-saturday-july-25-2015-registration-12743928433</a></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://fundraising.stjude.org/site/TR/Heroes/Heroes?px=3101821&pg=personal&fr_id=26980">http://fundraising.stjude.org/site/TR/Heroes/Heroes?px=3101821&pg=personal&fr_id=26980</a></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-12277803340136582442014-11-14T16:35:00.001-05:002014-11-14T16:35:25.741-05:00Ok Friday... You win.Today.<div><br></div><div>Today has just plain ole sucked. And it's not even 1:00pm yet! There are times when I try to find more eloquent words to use in describing things, but for today, November 14, 2014 ... this word just fits the best.</div><div><br></div><div>It started out fairly fine. Woke up at my new usual early time. My Honey made my coffee, I watched the news, played my games, and even got an early morning snuggle from the boy-child when he came down early. </div><div><br></div><div>Then there were minimal fights with clothing choices for both kids before school, and things seemed to be going fairly well.</div><div><br></div><div>I even had GREAT hair. I even went so far as to smear on a swipe of eyeshadow on each lid/crease before going downstairs. I do my eyeliner and mascara standing in the hall while the kids are putting on shoes and coats and backpacks, so I'll smooth out my shadow and blend it in evenly while I'm standing at the hall mirror.</div><div><br></div><div>So, we head to the bus stop. Conner almost forgot his book bag because he was so excited about his new gigantic arctic coat, but we got it in time, and headed to the bus stop.</div><div><br></div><div>And we waited.</div><div><br></div><div>And waited.</div><div><br></div><div>And waited.</div><div><br></div><div>In the cold.</div><div><br></div><div>I called the school to see why the bus was now 10 minutes late. She puts me on hold to check with the transportation department and comes back on the line to tell me that the bus is late, but is in route. </div><div><br></div><div>Ok. </div><div><br></div><div>Now... The delima of "how long do I keep waiting" kicks in. As soon as we head home, the bus will come. I need to get the girl to preschool, and don't want the boy to be late either. GG, bless her heart, had given up trying to run around and play. She was over it and just sat down trying to get warm inside her gigantic arctic coat.</div><div><br></div><div>Screw it, we're going. Come on kids, we're going home so I can drive you to school.</div><div><br></div><div>Half way home, I hear the bus. </div><div><br></div><div>Keep walking, we're driving. At this point, I'm set on driving, so we hustle home to get to school.</div><div><br></div><div>We get in the car, I crank up Amelia, and she tells me that one of her tires is low on air.</div><div><br></div><div>CRAP! Really?!?</div><div><br></div><div>I get out and look at the suspect tire, and it just looks a little low, so we head on out.</div><div><br></div><div>I don't really fully breath the whole trip. Should I stop at 7-11 to put air in the tire, making us even LATER, or just go on, figuring it's just low because of the cold.</div><div><br></div><div>I go on to school. </div><div><br></div><div>On the way to K, I call Preschool to be sure it's ok if I drop of GG late. I had the feeling there was a strict no-late policy, so I wanted to double check. I was wrong, it was/is fine to be a little late, so we're all set.</div><div><br></div><div>Drop off the boy, and tell him a few times to remember to take the bus home. We do car pool on Tuesdays and Thursdays and he takes the bus every other day. He's very routine based, and no one likes it when his routine is messed with. No. One. </div><div><br></div><div>So, he's in school, he's not late, and we head off to Genna's school. She's 16 minutes late. We take off her coat, I get my kisses and say bye. Then I see a mom with her tuition check. Oh yeah! It's due, let me go grab my checkbook. Head back up to the school with my check, and I pass another mom with her sons homework bag. Bugger! Genna's homework is still in my purse. Back to the car for her homework. Ok. Whew. All children are where they should be, with what they should have, and everything is paid for. Double whew!</div><div><br></div><div>Let's get some air in this tire now, because the light keeps coming on and going off telling me she's not happy.</div><div><br></div><div>I pull into the gas station, go to the air machine, insert my $.75 in quarters ... and silence. Noing. Well, maybe it's one that is already "charged" and will whir and come to life when I push the button. Nothing. Ok then... Maybe it's super smart and will only pouf it's super air when it's on a tire spout. Ppppffffsssstttt. Silence. Damnit! That's $.75 that I want back. So I walk into the gas station to ask what the trick is for getting air to come out of the air machine. The token male on staff got himself 3 quarters from the register and came with me to help. Because I'm a girl. You know. I can't, like, put, like, air or whatever in like my own car, or wheel, or tire, or whatever. As we walked, he asked me again if I put in 3 quarters. I guess and truely believe this is a valid question, as there are several ways to get to $.75, but yes, I assured him I did put in 3 quarters. </div><div><br></div><div>He inspects the machine. He then hits the machine. He looks closely at the "In Service" light. He then shakes the machine. He then proclaims "It's too full". Um... What? Yes, he agrees with himself. It's too full of coins. He'll have to dump it. He then apologizes, hands me the 3 quarters he took from the register, and we say goodbye.</div><div><br></div><div>I drove to the BJ's gas station, and there's an air pump there.</div><div><br></div><div>And not just any air pump, but the MackDaddy of ALL air pumps. The only thing that would have made this air pump any better would have been if it came with free liposuction and Jason Statham as a helper. First of all, it's free. Second, you tell it your desired PSI, and then you put air in your tire. It then beeps to tell you you've reached your desired PSI. </div><div><br></div><div>Love!</div><div><br></div><div>I'm so happy, after I put the tire spout cap back on, and put the exceptionally clean air hose back into it's fantastic holder, I pat the sweet machine on it's head and thank it out loud.</div><div><br></div><div>I then look up and see a couple in a car behind me. Laughing. Because I just thanked and patted the air machine.</div><div><br></div><div>I just smiled and got back in the car. </div><div><br></div><div>The low air indicator light didn't go off. But I was too embarrassed to get back out and try again, so I figured I go on to the next gas station and try again. But low and behold the light goes off after a few rotations, so it's all good under the hood.</div><div><br></div><div>I contemplate my late breakfast choices on the way home. Due to my horribly unlucky day, I'm slightly and understandably worried about cooking anything at this point. There's no telling what could go wrong. So I have leftover cold pork tenderloin dipped in a cold sauce. </div><div><br></div><div>I sit down on the sofa to have my lunch, watch a little junk daytime TV, and check in on Facebook and twitter. As I'm starting to breath and realize nothing else bad is happening, I realize I never finished my makeup.</div><div><br></div><div>So all day, in addition to the crap listed above, I have been walking around, interacting with, and talking to people ALL MORNING with 2 very random brown smears on my eyelids that look like my dog did my makeup.</div><div><br></div><div>And now, if you'll excuse me, I am due to volunteer at our son's Kindergarten "50 Day" sock hop, in honor of the 50th day of school, and I need to even out my makeup before I go. </div><div><br></div><div>Cheers, y'all.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8115395485163297740.post-91654896733419489922014-11-07T10:22:00.000-05:002014-11-07T10:22:46.183-05:00Letting Go<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday I let go of a lot of grudges. Most of which no one even knew I was harboring. Even myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was hurt by several people in many of my circles whom I felt had wronged me in some way. And some of those ways were simply because they were happy. Some were in a better financial place than we were so they were able to do things that we couldn't do and I didn't want to see their happy escapades. Some were able to go to the gym that we can't afford, or they got personal trainers which we can't afford, and I didn't want to see my friends working out, sweating, smiling, having a great time, and doing these things both together and solo and without me. Some were friends with people whom I am not friends with and I didn't want to see these people out and about having fun, again ... WITHOUT ME.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jealousy is an issue I've dealt with my entire life in some form or another. I have always wanted to be the best, or I didn't want to play. I'm not your BEST friend, then I'm not your friend at all. If I'm not the favorite, the immediate blue-ribbon-winner and the best at whatever I try, I give up. No practice for this chick. Nope. If I can't run a marathon at 240 pounds after 6+ years of sedimentary life, then I'm not even going to put on a pair of tennis shoes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, by simply clicking the "unfollow" button on Facebook, I was able to sweep all the joys and successes of my friends under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind. But then I realized that's not what friendship is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When a good friend's son became very ill, I wasn't "following" her on Facebook, so I didn't know about it. I wasn't there to support her and tell her that I was thinking about her and hoping he got better. When a friend was in a motorcycle wreck, I wasn't there to tell him that I would bring over a huge dish of cheesy meaty goodness with zero vegetables to make him feel better. These are just a few of the things that I missed out on. Thing that FRIENDS need to be there for each other to support one another.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Instead of being able to be a friend, I was shutting the door so I couldn't see what was going on in their lives. But in that time, I became slowly more bitter, even sadder, more introverted, and more of a loner. I don't want to even leave my house, y'all. And I don't want to be in my house either because I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I've created this little cocoon to protect myself from seeing other people happy because I am not.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You know what else I noticed? The more I ignored them, the more they ignored me. But wait ... why aren't they contacting me and saying, "Ahem .. Um ... Carter Ann ... where are you? What's wrong? Why aren't you telling me how awesome my vacation pictures are, why aren't you telling me you're thinking about my sick kid, why aren't you cheering me on during my latest 5K?" Nope. None of that. What happened was simply ... they stopped paying attention to me to. You know why? Because all relationships take work. They take a door that swings both ways.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I just went through Facebook yesterday and I "Followed" all of the people that I had unfollowed. I then went back several posts into people feeds and liked or commented on things that I had missed over my pouting stint, and realized that I was breathing so much better. It was like I had lifted a shroud around my head that was doing nothing but keeping me inside. The joys, accomplishments, fears, tragedies, and celebrations hadn't stopped. I had just missed them. Me. By myself. Without them. Not them without me. It was me without them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, to YOU ... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having fun without me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having more money than me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having opinions different than mine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for staying friends with the person who hurt me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having a life that revolves around your family and not mine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for needing time to figure things out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having a "group" that I'm not a member of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for hurting me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for lying to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for being thinner than me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having the things that I can't have.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for turning your back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for trying too hard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for having no clue that I was so sad, lost, hurt, and scared.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgive you for carrying on when I stopped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I hope that one day you can forgive me too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And to YOU, who DID step forward and ask me out of the blue one day what was wrong. To YOU ... I can't thank you enough. I still have the email you sent me, and I still look at it. YOU helped get me out of this. YOU saw that something was wrong, when I didn't even know that I was in such a bad place, and YOU took the time to reach out. THANK YOU.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04294266897500575065noreply@blogger.com0