This Post Is A Little Out of Character

I saw this quote today: "That awkward moment when you're not sure if you actually have free time or you're just forgetting everything."

Lately I find my family staring at me as though they don't understand what I have just said. Then I realize I said a lot of stuff to myself in my head, it just didn't all come out of my mouth. The family just shrugs and answers what they thought I meant.

Once when my granddaughter was in the second grade or so, she was playing in my guest bedroom. I kept hearing something tearing. I went in the room to check on her and she was writing page after page and laying them on the bed.

"What are you doing? Playing school?" I inquired.

"Oh, no. I am letting people out of detention," she replied.

Amused, I asked, " What have they done?"

"Oh, all sorts of stuff."

I became a little concerned and bent over to read their sins. Each paper had the name of the offender, their offense (example: talked out of turn), their reprieve and her signature, The Prity Quen of Inglin. Formally translated that would be The Pretty Queen of England. (This is the grandchild you read about in another post who once asked me (loudly and with great clarity) in the checkout of Big Lots, if I had remembered to wear my underwear that day. Another story for another day.

Now I am NOT a princess much less a queen, but it seems to me that if you've tried to lead a decent life you deserve a certain amount of respect. I have followed the old adage "A place for everything and everything in its place." I tried to make my parents and Home Economics teachers proud. So as I come to my twilight years, I've decided to cut loose a little. The queen thing brought to memory times when I didn't do what I really wanted to do but did what I thought was expected of me. Do I deserve a crown, certainly not...but at this stage of life I feel I can divulge certain activities in which I participated now that a number of years have passed.

Today I admit that once I swigged directly from the Pepto Bismol bottle. (It was an emergency, there were no clean spoons...another story.) But I have to further admit that I hid the bottle like an alcoholic hides his whiskey. I was afraid someone might get up in the middle of the night and double swig...that would be a catastrophe. As soon as school was over the next day I drove straight to the drug store and bought a new bottle for the family. I kept mine hidden and nipped at it when necessary. This began my downward spiral from Goody Two Shoes to what I have become.

Another case in point...I have been practicing getting into and out of the bathtub (no small task when you have a trick knee)...fully clothed except for my socks and shoes. As I was trying my exit the other night I realized that the bath mat had been kicked aside and I was barefooted. So? you ask. One of my cardinal rules has always been...No Bare Feet...anywhere except the tub. Well, I had no choice...so my bare feet actually touched the floor and NOTHING HAPPENED! I even used to prefer that if Coach had to exit the bed during the night, that he wash his feet before re-entering. He complied for over 3o years and then one night he snapped. He did it quietly. He acted like he didn't hear me. I didn't say anything. We really walked on the wild side with that.

This morning I was dressing and Facebooking at the same time when I was faced with a challenge of epic proportions. At the appointed time in my makeup ritual of 50 years, my mascara was gone. I looked in the cabinet...no Maybelline. Then my eyeliner and my blush. The "big three" were all missing from my arsenal.
I began to perspire. I retraced my houseshoed steps. How could three things just vanish? I had never gone outside to work without makeup and I was not beginning today. That's just TOO WILD! Then I remembered that I had to go to my grandchildren's school yesterday and I took a change of clothes and my makeup to work (wouldn't want to embarrass The Prity Quen of Inglin and her brother by being in work clothes.) I located all the items, did a reasonably good job of applying every item and hurried to work.

Now the reason for this post has totally escaped me. Normally, that would upset me greatly but for some reason it doesn't really bother me today...I have decided to loosen up. You should, too. And if you are already too loose, then tighten up. Whatever..
Angela

* Hummingbird or Bummingbird Cake?

I promised I'd post a blog revealing my Hummingbird Cake adventure..so here goes.

And I can make this snappy and to the point.

 My enchantment with The Bummingbird...er Hummingbird Cake began here:

http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/35th-anniversary-hummingbird-cake-50400000127091/

(We southern girls consider Southern Living magazine the "go-to" place for great recipes.)

I read about the HB cake for years...so I thought..."How hard can it be?"
And after all, it was its 35th anniversary!
The most sought after and requested recipe in Southern Living history.

I decided to make the cake layers Friday since they needed to be refrigerated. 

Tip: a wise decision.

(I was slightly "ticked" when I realized I needed another cake pan and the hubster

had ruined a perfectly good one by Pamming it to death for his biscuits.)

So I used a slightly larger aluminum throw away pan I had on hand.

Tip: Do NOT make one layer a different size from the others.

Plus, it called for 4 layers and I crammed it all into three.

That was a very big NO NO!

Early Saturday morning I made the "custard" filling.

It was delicious...how do I know that?

I ate all the leftovers..

I then proceeded to layer and ice with custard and got so

carried away that I forgot and iced the top layer.

Which BTW was the oddly sized layer and kept sliding toward the back.

Tip: Do NOT ice the top layer. The real icing will slide off.

No problem: I just took off that custard and ate it too.

Sometime before 6 a.m. Sunday:

When I began getting the table ready, I decided I needed to go ahead and ice the cake...

with Browned Buttercream Frosting.

Sounds great....omgosh.

Centerpiece in place: "Check".



China, silver and placemats ready. (Triple "Check")



Now, on to the icing (time: 6:00 a.m. Sunday).

Browned Buttercream Icing...hmmmm, never done anything like this before.

Oh, well...how hard can it be? Fast forward...

Time lapse: 9:30 a.m.

Burned the butter the first go round...did it say Burned Buttercream or

Browned Buttercream?

Next try:

Stir 1 cup butter until it turns light brown..

is this like golden brown, light "burned" brown,

how light? Uh, oh...guests arriving at 11:15 a.m.

Stir constantly for 8-12 minutes.

Tip: When it says light brown that's what it means.

When it says stir 8-12 min.on medium heat,  it doesn't mean 5-ish on high.

When it says to pour into a SMALL bowl and cover and chill,

it does NOT mean large bowl, uncovered in the freezer.

(I laid down only for a second to rest my aching knees...

but when I woke up the browned butter was frozen.)

I pulled out the big guns...my Kitchenaid mixer

and beat the living daylights out of that frozen blob....all the while

adding powdered sugar alternately with 1/4 cup milk...ending with sugar.

When the husband walked in he remarked,

"Looks like a bomb went off in that side of the kitchen."

Tip: the cake must chill for 1 hour before serving...oh, no.



I know, I know..you are being kind...saying "It doesn't look so bad."

However, if you zoom in, you will see that those pretty yellow flecks

are NOT pineapple, but rather frozen browned butter...ugh.



Everyone raved, but I was too tired to notice.

I went back to Southern Living's website this afternoon, following my 2 1/2 hour nap
and guess what?
The original recipe was really quite simple...
it  had Cream Cheese Frosting.

Then I read the comments on this year's cake...they were hilarious.
We should have been on a conference call...
they had some pretty awful comments.

Anyhoo..
My Unconventional 2013 Easter Menu

Rotel Chicken
Deluxe Green Bean Supreme
Green Salad with Mandarin Oranges and Almonds
Brianna's Blush Wine Vinaigrette
Texas Toast
AND
The 2013 Anniversary Version of
Southern Living's
HUMMINGBIRD CAKE!

Yes, I think I will just have a carrot tonight...nibble on.


A joyous Easter to you,



* The Soap Saga

Disclaimer: I must admit that I am the one in the family that has weak knees. I become a little disconcerted by things that don't bother others. For instance, I never embraced the practice of changing babies' diapers; I don't like heights or swimming; and I have several other peculiarities, among them, animals scare me. Now, don't get me wrong I am not mean. I love butterflies and even bunnies, but cats that scratch and dogs that jump up and occasionally snarl, pretty much do me in. I cannot watch a Geico commercial. I check the motel beds for bedbugs...I like my bed clean, the sheets neatly tucked in and nothing but me and the hubster in there.

 All that being said, let me continue with my post. Since my two knee surgeries this summer, I have had terrible leg and foot cramps. They wake me in the night, they hit while I am driving, they are a big nuisance. So my ears perked up when my daddy suggested the "soap" cure. This cure was introduced to him by his friend, Miss Marianne. Since she is full of good practical knowledge, I decided to try it. The "cure" consists of putting a bar of either Ivory or Dial in between your sheets. That's it (for some). Cramps should be a thing of the past...

Last night as I was lying in bed reading my new Romantic Homes magazine, I felt it coming....a cramp in my left foot. It was excruciating...that did it...when you can't even read a magazine in peace, something has to give. I grabbed my cane and limped to the bathroom and opened the cabinet door. I got out a wrapped bar of Dial. I started wondering how to do this. Do I unwrap the soap? Wouldn't it get rather tacky? I wasn't sure and since it was late, I just unwrapped a little square of the wrapper so some of the fumes could escape and started back toward the bed.

The hubster said, "What is that?"

 I replied, " It's a bar of soap."

 "Well, I can see that. What are you doing with it?" he retorted.

Now, I knew I was going to meet with resistance on his part. He doesn't believe in folksy cures. So I simply said, "It's supposed to help with leg cramps." That was that. He turned over and went to sleep. No big deal.

But with me, it was an entirely different story. Let me ask, have you ever slept with a brick? Every time I moved, that darn soap was either on my foot or between my ankles. It kept me awake for quite awhile.

 Finally, I drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened by a horrible dream. In the dream it was quite hot, and I kept stubbing my toes over and over again. I awoke with a start. It really WAS hot...the hubby was ready for the "supposed" coming ice storm. I am certain he had the thermostat set at 450 degrees and I was roasting. I leaped (ok, stumbled) out of bed to change from my fuzzy ice storm gown to something more comfortable and when I got back in the bed SOMETHING HIT MY FOOT!! SOMETHING WAS IN THE BED!! This time I really did leap out of the bed...screaming...there was a third thing in the bed ... what was it?!!! I nearly had a panic attack.
Until I was reminded... Oh, uh, the bar of soap. I had completely forgotten about it.

This morning when we began to make up the bed IT was gone. The soap was not there. Where did it go? I have NO idea. (Personally, I think the hubster removed it in the night, but then what do I know?) Maybe the bar rode off into the sunrise, "My work here is done."

But whatever it was, all I know is I didn't have a single leg cramp last night.



May all your nights be leg cramp free,

If You Need Happy, Don't Read This...

Let's don't beat around the bush here. I've always been sort of a "bottom line" kind of girl...let's get to the point. Getting old is THE pits. Now, don't message me with "you are only as old as you feel" comments. If that were the truth, I'd be 999.

The past few weeks have NOT been good ones. I must admit, I tried to keep a stiff upper lip through it all, but that's just not cutting it anymore. Let me recount for you.

It began a Sunday or two ago with my 84 year old father saying that he didn't recognize the "little old lady" getting HIS laundry basket out of MY car...lo and behold it was little ole me! Then he advised me to dye my hair. Strike one.

Then some old (and I say that kindly) friends dropped by the shop and in the conversation one friend mused that she would have never recognized me. Well, what can I say? It HAS been 45 years since I last saw her. However, I WOULD have recognized her right away. Now, this means that either she hasn't changed very much or I look like an 18 Wheeler has hit me. That was strike two for the week.

Now for strike 3. As I sat with the frozen vegetable pack on my bum knee, trying my best to get the swelling to go down so I could limp to work on Saturday, I caught a glimpse of my hands. I've always had bad cuticles but on the good side, I've had great strong nails...that's the problem, I use them for things like turning screws when a screwdriver isn't handy...but those two items aside..my hands look, well...OLD. And they aren't strong anymore...sort of frail and "veiny". I can't open the pickle jar and have to have help opening locks on some doors..what's happened?

I'VE BECOME OLD..THAT'S WHAT'S HAPPENED!!!! Now, I ask you...is old so bad? And now I answer that...YES, it is. Gray hair, a changed face and frail hands. So very NOT me...but now so very me. Tears flow more easily than they used to; pains occur in places I really never noticed I had; and time is spent reflecting on the past...Before "old", I never had much time to reflect. Now reflecting is helpful and reflections (in a mirror)..not so much. I have to admit...I am a little afraid of the future. (I used to charge forth like a warrior...now, I couldn't do any charging except to hand my charge-card to someone.)

I say all that to get to this bottom line...enjoy your youth. Don't waste it on vain and useless pass-times. Old age creeps upon you suddenly and you will take comfort in memories and worthwhile endeavors. Try to cultivate and use your sense of humor, believe me, you will need it! And gray hair? Well, that's something I've been giving some thought to...not sure about that.

P.S. If you see me...DO NOT tell me you would have never recognized me. Even if you don't. Pretend.

                                                         Thank you for letting me vent, 

* Live and Learn

You know what my husband says,

" It only takes one compliment on something you have made and you immediately make 100 of said item."

Somebody on FB said something nice about my pumpkins and I launched into an all out offensive.

We now have gone pastel pumpkin crazy!

Cute in a little girls's room or anywhere you need a spot of color.

Pardon the price tags :(

Then, of course, there are the more "dressed up"  non-pastel versions...below.

I had the old cutter quilt cut to ribbons, but couldn't bear to throw away

the raggedy squares...thus, the tattered pumpkin below.

(I believe I may be becoming a hoarder.) 

I found some of the fabrics to be easier to work with than others.

Burlap may look neat, but it's not neat to work with..achoo!

Linen, on the other hand, is. Painter's canvas is also difficult.

Nevertheless, I have given my customers a wide range of pumps from which to choose!

On to today's post!!

I have been reading a small book by H. Jackson Brown, Jr. entitled

Live, and Learn and Pass It On.

Funny little quotes from lots of different people from 5 years old to 90.

I decided that this is a great idea, so today I'd like to share some things I've learned.

(Some I learned the HARD way!

When you have a minute why don't you add your "learnings" in the form of a comment?

Let's begin:

1. There is nobody more intelligent than the following groups: those who have NO children or who are brand new parents; 9th grade boys; second semester 12th grade girls and boys; and parents who coach from the stands. (Just sayin')

2. If you love any makeup item, buy it in bulk, because they will surely discontinue it.

3. Drinking diet beverages and continuing to eat Ding Dongs does NOT equal a happy outcome.

4. When you laugh or make fun of someone about a physical feature, you will end up with that feature.

    (This applies to even "thinking" something unkind about someone.. like a double chin of theirs will turn into a triple on you. Remember those Ding Dongs?)

5. For every lie you told your parents, your child will surely look you straight in the face and tell the same whopper to you. (I don't care what church you go to.)

6. Parents who think that the sole reason they have a great child is because of their parenting skills will at some point in their life be taken down a peg or two or three.

7. When you want rain, you get sunshine and vice versa. Adjust and live with it.

8. Nobody is ever satisfied with what they have been given physically...blue eyes? want brown; short frame? want tall; muffin top? want a six pack; big eyes? want slanted with extra long eyelashes. Answer? Wear brown contacts, get acquainted with Spanx, buy false eyelashes and walk on stilts...uncomfortable but do-able.

9. If you want something very badly (like a new couch) and your husband says, "NO!" and you whine and pout until you get it, you will NOT ever love that couch. There will always be that thing running around in your brain telling you, that you acted a fool to get your way. Nobody enjoys anything that was gotten by acting a fool.

10. When you don't water the ferns, they die. When you don't cut the grass, your home looks like a jungle. When you don't pluck your eyebrows or shave your legs, you look like a cavegirl. Bottom line here is: everything worthwhile in life takes some care and time. Always depending on someone else to "take care of business" for you isn't very smart. Hairy legs  = gross. So is a life that could have been worthwhile with some tender loving care that was neglected.

Now what have you learned and want to pass on?





I am linking to Beverly's Pink Saturday...please, join the fun!

*What's Good for the Gander Isn't Good for the Goose?

Well, well, well.

Some things never change...everyone's an art critic.

If you and I are friends on FB then you will know what's going on, but for those of you who don't know...here's the story.

I am working at my shop, Dwellings, and 3 ladies enter,

look all around and one becomes enchanted with my pin cushions.

What can I say? They ARE so sweet!

She purchases two...well, you know what that means, don't you?

Of course, there will be a run on them...I must dash home and crochet more.

 A few little changes and additions and they are ready for their coming out party.

So it went...hours and hours of crocheting...and many, many cushions are now ready to be sold.

Everyone in the fam...is making fun of my pin cushions...but YESTERDAY ANOTHER ONE SOLD! AND THEN ANOTHER!

 I may have found the golden egg!

I even have a pumpkin cushion in honor of the long overdue Autumn season!

So what you may ponder?

Well, let me fill you in....

My delightful husband of over 34 years saw my feverish efforts and remarked that

all my "money making" ideas were futile. He stated that I didn't make things people HAD to have..

that in a recession nobody wanted a pin cushion. Heck, women don't even sew anymore.

Or so he said! Now tires...there's something I could sell. They wear out...a pin cushion does not.

Yes, yes, yes....tires. I could mount them and rotate them, plug them...

I could see the gold mounting  in his mind.

Personally, I think he's stripped a gear, but really...tires?!

So I posted our conundrum on FB...all sorts of comments came popping on the screen..mostly in my favor (because they are all my friends after all)...

but today really took the cake.

As I arrived at work, my crochet basket filled to the top with pin cushion yarn galore,

I heard the snickers...I heard them laughing and smirking about "here comes the pin cushion lady"...

nevertheless...

I worked until 4:00 (and didn't once have a chance to crochet, I might add) and just as I was preparing to leave, I saw my son (the #2 Snickerer) whispering with a customer...

The customer had just brought in something he thought we might like to sell...

What was it, you ask? Oh, let me tell you!!

How about a Singer Featherweight Sewing Machine...but that's not the worst of it...

attached was an old Victorian metal bird that clamps on the machine...guess what kind of bird?

A PIN CUSHION!!

#2 Snickerer couldn't get to his wallet fast enough.

All I have to say is, "MEN!"

* Little Miss Apple Crateness

So my overactive conscience has been carrying around a bucketful of guilt for the past few days...I'm almost over it, but there's still a twinge every now and then. Now that there is some space between "the event" and the present, I'm feeling a little better, really...I'm ok. Let me expound...

Background:  When I was 5, I attended the all-girl kindergarten of Mrs. Walter Doty...I don't know, to this day, Mrs. Doty's first name. Everyone knew her as Mrs. WALTER Doty. Every little girl (and her mother) longed for a much sought after place on the roll of Mrs. Doty.

At the Merry Morning Kindergarten, we spent most of our morning, tap dancing and learning ballet. We sang our anthem, "We're from the Merry Morning Kindergarten. We have a lot of fun in all we do. So if we make mistakes, Oh, won't you pardon? For after all we're very little, too."

AS you can see, I took all of this very much to heart.

I don't remember if I ever learned anything more than the alphabet and how to write my name..but I loved tapping in those shoes. (I still own a pair...)

We had a Christmas Dance program and of course, our graduation Dance program.

Our costumes were rather costly for the 1950's, but everyone paid through the nose and obeyed all the commands of Mrs. Walter Doty...

including our mothers who I think feared and respected her as much as we did.

My graduation tap dance costume was hot pink satin with a white tucked bib front and a black satin bow at the neck with matching hat. The ballet costume was to die for...a beautiful shade a sage green...the tutu was matching green with golden sparkles strewn all over...I'm telling you, I wanted to live in that tutu.

 (Personally, if I had been taller (and thinner) I think I would have made a great ballerina.)

What has all that got to do with the picture above? Bear with me, as this is difficult for me to confess. That little apple crate chair pictured above was built by MR. WALTER DOTY...yep, all little girls had their own red apple crate chair. We sat in the top part and stored our ballet slippers and tap shoes in the bottom. At the appointed time, we'd change shoes, push the chairs under the tables ("very quietly ladies") and tap until our feet were exhausted or our toes were crunched to death.

Fast forward:

My niece, Lauree, let me know that an antique dealer in my hometown, had some of those apple crate chairs. She dutifully purchased one for me and I've had it for years. It doesn't exactly fit in anywhere and I've had it stored forever. One day last month, I decided on a "let's clear some stuff out of the attic" moment to take it to my little shop as a display piece. There Little Miss Crateness sat...and I'd explain her significance to every customer that would stop long enough to be enchanted with this magical story.

Enter "K"....pictured below.

"K" and I  were kindred spirits the moment we met at my shop. We talked and talked and exchanged ideas and I just really liked her a lot. I had to run an errand, so I left the store in the capable hands of my son, and bid farewell to my new friend. When I came back, "K" re-entered the store and approached me with the idea that she couldn't live without the little red apple crate chair...would I consider selling it?

Yep, you guessed it. I did.

 After all, I had known "K" all of an hour and a half....I had this feeling that she would take care of  Miss Apple Crateness. So I let the little chair go...I launched her into the world in the care of "K". sniff.

All I asked is that if she ever lets her go, that she makes sure she goes into capable, loving hands. 

double sniff

 I know some of you have lost all respect for me now that you know what I did...but this young woman is getting ready to be married. She loves "old stuff" like me...she has great visions of the future...she is an artist...she is a happy bride- to -be who loved my little crate. She will be a wonderful caretaker!

Now that the shock has worn off, I am happy I made the decision...I will always have my digital pictures, my scrapbooks filled with kindergarten recital pictures and my memories!! (and my tap shoes)

Have a great life, "K"!

Until I Saw A Woman With No Legs...

This is a good morning for reflection.....

 Last week as I waited for physical therapy (grumbling inside because I hurt),

a woman with no legs arrived for her therapy. Enough said.

                               

 As I thought an unkind thought about my husband because he didn't pick up the pillow that had fallen off the front porch rocker during a little wind, he called me to a delicious breakfast he had made.

As I re-visited some heated words my son and I had yesterday at the store,

he motioned for me to come to the back of the auction house

so he could load my purchases.

 I have made a conscious choice to finally release my desire to have a perfect circle of friends and family, a formal dining room, a studio, a log cabin in the woods (or better the mountains), to be thin,

to be young again, have everything go my way....

In doing so,  I have to admit something I have learned....

life is too short to continually re-visit unpleasant events and unfulfilled dreams.

Dreams are ok, as long as they don't obscure the present and make you ungrateful.

My home, the physical house, is what it is. As of May 24, 2012, there will very probably no more chances for "add ons" or complete re-do's...so? Is my life any less blessed? Maybe a bigger, better house would be more comfortable, but hey, this one is paid for. It's in pretty good shape. 

It's infinitely better to live in the moment and be grateful for an abundant life.

Always striving for more is exhausting, folks.

We must do the very best with what we have been graciously given.

 If that means moving around pieces in and outside the house and inside your heart, to make something function better, or paint or repurpose what we have...great...but let's not waste another precious second crying over spilled milk.

Examples of "spilled" milk (aka: what might have been):

*It would be nice to be 5'6" tall and weigh 115 lbs...but it "ain't" happening, (unless when I DO have knee replacement, the doctor agrees to add a 5" dowel in each leg during the operation...and the 115? Haha.)

* It would be great to have a 4,000 sq ft home with every little detail "just right"...but then you'd have to dust all that space...hmmm, small is looking better. 

*Wouldn't we all love a family where every member looks and acts like angels 100% of the time...

is it really necessary to go completely berserk about that tatoo, that long hair, those torn jeans?

(This one is hard for me..I must admit.) 

So for all those out there who have all the things I used to long for...then, lucky fortunate you..

(I'm Presbyterian, we don't believe in luck).

For the rest of us, let's live the remaining years of  life trying to play the hand that has been dealt us in a cheerful, loving way...knowing that we won't always be successful, but at least we can give it our best shot.

Be thankful,  

* The Black Hole

It all began innocently enough. Setting: Sunday afternoon...mad dash to pick up a skein of yarn and ink for the printer. (Grandson is writing a research paper...and it can't print out in rainbow colors because we are out of black ink.) As I am approaching Office Depot, I realize that I don't remember the number of the two cartridges, so I wing it and buy what I "think" will work. I have this bad feeling that these don't look right....so....

I call home, no answer. Coach is visiting his mother, so I head to store for yarn and after the purchase, head back to OD. Sitting in Office Depot's parking lot, I make the call. This time he answers. Those of you who are regular readers know that the Coach thinks that computers are the devil's spawn, so I gave exact instructions as to which machine on the desk is in fact the printer.

1. Go into Grandson's room.
2. Face the desk and look at the printer. The desk contains several books, a monitor and the printer.
(He asks if the thing on the right is what he's supposed to be looking at...oh, boy, here we go.)
3. I tell him to gently raise the top and he will see glass. I hear the top go up.
("So? What now?" he questions. )
4. Put the top back down and this time, lift the entire top up...I instruct. You should see the inside of the printer.
("Wait, I need my glasses," he reasons. ) Thump, thump..back with glasses. At this point I hear something that sounds like the hood of a car going up. Houston, we have a problem.
5. What's wrong? I inquire.
("I need a flashlight, he replies.") Wait, what? A flashlight? You don't need the flashlight! Where is he? Thump, thump...he's back with flashlight. I am sitting in the parking lot of OD hearing my Lexmark printer being ravaged. "Stop, stop," I yell..."what are you doing?"
6. "There's nothing here but a black hole and a white strip of plastic," he says lamely.
7. All I need are the numbers of the cartridges...why, why, why? "Do you see two little plastic things that are pushed down? If you do, the number of the cartridge is printed on top!"
8. "No, all I see is a black hole." #*@ (that was my quote, not his.)
All of a sudden he says, "I see the number on the outside of the printer...it's Lexmark X6570!"
9. Hallelujah! The Eagle has landed! "That's fine, I can use that," I say quietly.

Relieved, I return the wrong cartridges and get a refund of 32 cents. All's well that ends well.
I am considering knee replacement. Do you think there is a chance one of you could be "on call" when I come home?

Enjoy the rest of your weekend,

* The Great Cappuccino Incident

For those of you who have been loyal followers for the past few years, thank you. I have been very negligent of my blog and I apologize for the missed opportunities to make you smile or those moments you needed encouragement and I was "out in the work world" and not here. Thank you for continuing to "follow"... I WILL do better, I promise.

And for those of you who regularly read and follow this thing I call "My Life...It's the Only One I Have, Thank you very much"... you will already know that "the Hubster" aka "The Coach" does our grocery shopping. Now, don't start with me about this...he LOVES it. So I say...go for it, Coach!

Well, Saturday, he was preparing his grocery list and asked me to add my needs. I listed a few things... diet Green Tea, Little Debbie's, and so forth, and then I made THE fatal mistake. I added Cappuccino. (Let me enlighten those who don't read this blog regularly...the Hub will NOT use a cell phone so when he enters the electronic doors of Wal Mart, he's on his own.) "How bad could that be?"you ask. Read here, here and here and see. Those of you who know him well, know that he LOVES to please me and he really IS a sweet thing...but I have finally given up on the grocery drama and I just let him alone to do his damage to the check book.

When he read Cappuccino, he began to pace around the kitchen...."You know that they never have the same selection"... "I'll do my best, but they don't have English Toffee"... "What if the hazelnut is an off-brand?" On and on... the fact of the matter is, I just need something in the coffee...it really doesn't matter. Once I made the mistake of saying, "I really like this cappuccino you got me, thanks." From that day forward he has tried in vain to find that exact kind...to no avail.

When I pulled out the pantry shelf this morning to get my coffee making supplies, I could hardly pull the shelf out it was so heavy! Oh, no.... in addition to the coffee (both instant and regular..another story for another time)...there they were...Creamy Hazelnut Cap., Chocolate Mocha Cap., Hazelnut Creamer, Mocha Peppermint Creamer, on and on. One thing for sure, I won't need to make a Cappuccino or Creamer request until 2013.

We were laughing and talking about which muffins to bake this morning as I was fixing my coffee (he doesn't drink coffee) and suddenly I noticed that I had put all the sugar and anything else I was adding to the coffee into the Cappuccino container, not my coffee cup. He asked me why I thought that action was so funny. All I could think of is that we are both getting so old that things that would normally send me around the bend, have sort of become funny. I think I've morphed into my mother. Everything she did like putting something in the wrong container or calling all the grandchildren by the wrong name, I now do. I used to roll my eyes heavenward and pray that I'd never do stuff like that. Oh, well... All's well that ends well.


You might enjoy my business blog, Dwellings Re-fined Post: here.

May all your coffee be flavored to your taste,

* Triple Muffin Top

Tonight I needed (and I mean that literally) to go to Wal Mart to buy some Silk Almond Milk. I was totally out and I had to drink a Visalus Shake for my supper. (What is Visalus? you wonder. Another story for another time.)

(Now, remember as you read this, I am still having LOTS of trouble with my bum knee.) Picture this, Sept. 9, 2011...6 o'clockish...older lady (me) pulling her right leg along so she can hurry into Wally World and get the milk and get home. (Today, I've eaten: 1 shake, small bag of popcorn, 1/2 chicken strip, and a diet Green Tea.) A ravenous wolf and I have much in common at this point.

Granddaughter needs some new jeans, so I roll the buggy over to the Juniors Jeans aisle, find the jeans and turn toward the milk (in the furthermost corner of WM...grrrrr.) All at once, I had this overpowering desire to look at jeans for myself. Eureka! After an archaeological dig...I find some (in several sizes) and load them in the buggy and head for the dressing room. The young woman who lets me into the dressing room, keeps calling me "Baby"... sort of irritating. (As a side note: A Plus Size that sticks the word Petite on the end of the number is an oxymoron. Why not just say XXXL/ Short or Very Plump/ Not Very Tall or XXXL/Vertically Challenged or anything but Petite.) I digress...

You know that exhilarating feeling you have when you lose weight? The one that makes you feel like you can tackle the universe and look great while doing so? Just plain giddy! I have, after all, lost 12 big ones... the equivalent to 12 cartons of margarine! Surely, I am small enough to get in some straight legged, button up and zippered jeans. (There are none so blind as those who will NOT see.)

I start the trying on process with the smallest size. I can't lift my right leg, so I try to position myself against the door and all at once I sort of fall, catch myself, but not before a loud "thump" echoes through the dressing rooms. I right myself, try again, and once again, "thump"...."Baby?" I hear someone shout, "You ok in there?" "Yes, just fine, thanks," I mutter.

After the third attempt, I decide to sit down and try to put my right leg in first. But I can't sit on that seat thing...no telling who or what's been on it. So I position my purse and try to sit on it without breaking anything (in my purse..lol)...and I finally get my foot in the jeans leg...other leg goes in without too much trouble. The problem begins when I stand to pull the darn things up. They go up to my, well, my calf. I struggle..."thump"..."bigger thump"... "Everything ok, Baby?"...."Yes," I gasp.

This will never do. So I start the process of removing the jeans which by now are beginning to cut off my circulation. I need a spatula or a paint scraper. I finally peel that pair off and begin the process all over. Same song, second verse with the next size up. I get them on without the previous drama...however, they are 6 inches too long...petite, my foot...and well, not having elastic in the waist for the first time in years is a little disconcerting. I wrestle with the button and finally get it "latched"...turn to look at myself in the mirror (I don't have a full length mirror in my home. I threw it out years ago...I use the shower door as my mirror. You'd be surprised how great you look in a shower reflection.) Well, lo and behold, what in the world? Let me put it this way...have you ever seen a triple muffin top in person? If not, let me enlighten you...it ain't a pretty sight. The top half of "me" looked like one of those balloons in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade lined up for launch. HOWEVER, the jeans looked half way decent. (But not decent enough to actually wear in public.) I considered just buying them as an incentive...but I've been down that road before. My attic is full of "Wish I could wear this boxes". So I took them off and put them back on the shelf...but I did feel somewhat encouraged. Maybe some day soon...maybe elastic won't always be like a bad cold that won't go away.

I purchased my milk and a new decorating magazine...and as my friend, Miss Anonymous said as I was retelling her my adventure...."now THAT'S something you CAN get into!!" (Personally I think she was a little jealous that I ALMOST got jeans with NO elastic in the waist...but don't tell her that!)

Hope your jeans always button on the first try,

* "It's Close Enough"

It began with a simple statement, "I think I'd make more at the Flea Market if my presentation was nicer." One thing lead to another and yep, you guessed it...he came home with lumber, an 8 ft. sheet of plywood and a box of screws.

Now, if you read this blog regularly, then you will know that YKW (you know who) does NOT like to "fix things" or "build things"...it's just not his thing. But let me give credit where credit is due...he tries...WITH my assistance. So on the hottest day on the record books since civilization began...we got started building an 8 ft shelf for my FM booth.

Let the good times roll....gentlemen, start your engines...we are properly laid out and ready to rumble...HOWEVER...

Is it just me? Or do you, too, spot a potential problem? It's obvious that our sawhorses don't get too much use...but I don't know...wouldn't it help if they were at least sort of level? Especially if you are trying to build an 8 ft. shelving unit? So, it begins...

The electric drill I so lovingly and thoughtfully gave as a Christmas gift years ago... should have been charged..."Oh, it will be ready to go in about 15 minutes." Do you remember that song, "Help Me, Rhonda...Help, Help Me, Rhonda"? It began going through my head...

And I know the budget is tight, but can it be a good sign that the legs that will hold up an 8 ft. shelf which will be loaded to the gills with glassware has a number of knotholes? "Oh, it will be fine," reassured YKW.

Here we go...lovely molded sawhorses...steady hand, good intentions....wrong saw. Let's try another one...we have several that are still in their original boxes in the garage. While we are at it, maybe we should bring out another drill...the cordless ran out "of gas" after a few minutes...at this point, the backyard was looking a little like a war zone...Bun T. Wabbit was hovering under the birdbath...fearing for his life...I was hovering in the shade...fearing for mine, too. Sawdust was a'flyin...


But, "Houston, we have a leg!" One end of the leg isn't exactly level, but no matter, we'll just use the end that came from Home Depot cut correctly as the bottom..."it will be just fine".... hmmmm. I dared question.."What about where the unlevel end has to join the top?" There it goes again...that phrase..."It will be just fine." OkyDoky. (sp?)

Then a new phrase began, "It's close enough." Really?
It began to get a little warm...my polyester capris were not exactly what I needed for this ordeal...I sat down in a lawn chair until I was summoned to come hold the leg taunt...my leg was beginning to feel a bit taunt,too ..as well as my head. But I held the leg AND my tongue.

A mere hour and a half had passed...oh, it just seemed to fly by...then we decided to live dangerously and add two more legs in the middle...why not? Surely 6 legs and three braces were enough for 1,000 lbs of glassware. "What about the fact that some of the lumber we were using for braces is a little, well, warped?" I pondered. "Oh, it'll be fine."

We ran out of purchased lumber and rather than drive to HD, we just used some we had "stored for a rainy day" in the garage..."Yes, Virginia, that IS an giant upward swoop on the left." But "it will be fine."

Oops. Maybe not. (That's my Princess Reebok you see at the bottom of the pic...I am in the lawn chair almost passed out.) I am watching this circus in the shade.

Until my foot was needed...yes, in our family two feet are better than none...

Six legs, three braces down and one long back one to go...I see a light at the end of the tunnel. (Hope it's not an oncoming train.) We are now into the third hour of this saga.

After a few more hiccups...another size screw was needed for the back brace...a few flares of wood (and tempers) here and there...I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight...."It's close enough and to all a good night!" Oh, that's another story...anyhoo... we loaded her up, covered her with a cute table cloth and stacked her high with glassware ...AND GUESS WHAT?

"It WAS just fine!" I have a GREAT husband!

I am attending Boost My Blog Friday at Design It Chic and Frugal Friday at Shabby Nest...come on by!

Hope all your building projects go this well,