Why February Is Like Tuna Noodle

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

February sucks.  There...I said it. 

As far back as I can remember I've never liked the month of February.  I find it to be the "hump day" of the calendar year.  It's the bridge between the excitement of the New Year that January brings and the hope and promise of March.  March shouts that Spring is right around the corner and soon enough the Winter will be a distant memory.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...there's Valentines Day, but if you were traumatized like I was at an early age, (no valentines in my shoebox) than you've always held a certain disdain for a holiday that tells you to buy chocolate, jewelery or the traditional Hallmark card to proclaim your love and devotion. 



So there's no Valentines Day celebrated in this house.  I subscribe to the Eight Days a Week philosophy of love.  A work in progress so to speak.  "I'll TRY to remember John!"  LOL...Just like a marriage.  Some days in perfect harmony, others...not so much.  (I love how PURE their voices are!)

So why is February like tuna noodle casserole?  (I'm sure you all clicked on this post just because of the title alone!) 

Well, last weekend found me with no inspiration in the food department.  What to make for the upcoming work week?  (I try to cook for SM on the weekends and let him do the leftover thing during the week.  I'm too tired once I get home to cook anything so SM is on his own during the week.) 

I had ZERO ideas so I asked SM if he had any cravings. 

"Nope.  None.  That's what's weird..." SM says  "I'm not hungry for ANYTHING."

"It's the winter blahs.  It's got me too." I observe.  "Well, try and think of something for me to cook or you'll be eating sandwiches and soup all week."

A few minutes later SM proclaims "I know.  How about tuna noodle casserole?"

"Sure.  I'm pretty sure I've got everything we need.  I can fry up those mushrooms you bought the other day and toss them in too."  I offer.

So away into the kitchen I go.  

I toss some egg noodles in the water, pull down a can of cream of mushroom soup, a couple of cans of tuna and fry up the mushrooms.  As I'm standing there stirring the shrooms, I'm thinking "This dish has nothing in it that I like." 

I don't do gluten.  Shrooms are right up there on my "nasty" list.  YUCK.  Even the color once it's all put together, it's a kind of beige, quivering mass, is unappetizing.  I wonder how to dress it up before I toss it into the oven to bake.  Oyster crackers!  More beige!!!

 I crunch some of them up on top to jazz it up and into the oven it goes.

While it's baking, I reflect on how tuna noodle was a staple on our family's menu growing up.  When you had 6 mouths to feed, variations of pasta or rice dishes were a constant every week.  Meat was ground beef so I suppose tuna was a kind of luxury.  Spanish rice, macaroni and cheese with hot dogs sliced on top, spaghetti...we ate those things all the time when I was growing up.

So to me, tuna noodle casserole is like the month of February.  It's beige, it's always there.  It's something to just get through.  There is something better on the other side.

Later that evening, after SM has eaten the days offering, I ask him how it was.

"You know, that was the best tuna noodle I ever had."  SM says.

Just goes to show you that tuna noodle, like the month of February, has some redeeming qualities after all.

He Had It Coming

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past


So I made lunch for SM the other day. 

He was in a hurry as he had a 1:00 apt down in Fort Mill, so I made a quick sloppyjoe, which he told me he "greatly appreciated" as he scarfed it down. 

Moments later he pecks me on the lips real quick and he grabs up his keys and bolts for the door.

"Wait a minute." I hollar at him. "You can't call that a kiss." 

I started walking towards him.

He turns, see's the knife in my hand (I was in the kitchen cooking after all) and says... 

"You can't seriously think I'm going to kiss you with a knife in your hand. Whataretryingtodo? Kill me?"

I point the knife away as I close in on him, kiss him lightly and looked him deeply in the eyes and said...

"Not today."

SM laughs.

I then turned on my heel, waving the knife in the air and said...

"Keep me happy and you'll live to see another day."

To which SM quoted, laughing... 

"And then he ran into my knife."

"He ran into my knife ten times."

@;) 


If you'd have been there, If you'd have seen it, I betcha you would have done the same...

No Toad Licking Allowed

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

It's Saturday morning, pre-dawn and the pups and I were out doing our daily 2 miles. 

I suddenly notice Ginny shaking her head repeatedly.  Then I notice her drooling and wanting to eat the grass. 

Uh oh. 

We were walking in the street at the time and there's always something to sniff at.  

And unfortunately things to eat.  My dogs are likely just like yours, vacumn cleaners on 4 legs. 

After a few minutes she carried on as usual so we finished our walk.

When we got home, I checked her muzzle, lips and gums.  No swelling, no bite that I could see.  She ate some of her food but left some behind which I picked up.

She seemed restless. 

While I was concerned about her, I was also keeping my eye on the clock.  I had 8am post-ops to do at work and needed to be on the road by 7.

I filled SM in on what I thought was going on.

"She either got bit by a snake or she decided to lick a toad."  I told SM. 

The toads are all over the place right now and are getting squished in the road by the cars.  And while a snake was a possibilty, I hadn't seen one and I would think that if she was struck by a snake, she'd have let out a yelp. 

"They (the dogs) usually leave the dead toads alone though."  I mused.  "But maybe there was one alive and she tried to put it in her mouth.  I would think if she was bit by a snake I would've seen it or heard about it.  I'm betting on the toad."

"Do you think she's hallucinating?"  SM asks looking at Ginny who was standing there looking less than perky.  (You know the old joke about getting high eating shrooms and licking toads?)

"Maybe."  I said looking at her. 

"Mr. Toad's Wild Ride?"  I asked, giggling.  SM laughed.



Ginny looked at both of us, turned and wandered out to the back porch where she promptly threw up.  

Serves us right for laughing I suppose. 

"There goes breakfast."  SM said turning away.  "At least she has the sense to go outside.  Casey will just lay there and yurp up right in front of her."

After the 3rd yurp I became a bit more worried, giving SM instructions to take her to see the Vet if she seemed to become distressed. 

"Calm down, she's fine.  Just let her get it out of her system."  SM told me.

* There's a really good reason why SM and I are grateful that we never had kids.  He can't stand the nasty side of life and I will worry myself to death over every little thing. 

SM knows that if I had my way I'd have Ginny in the car racing to the Vet.  My imagination is always on overdrive. 

SM on the other hand hates to deal with bodily waste, be it dog or child.  Me?  (shrugging)...Hey, life is dirty, clean it up.

So I toss on my scrubs, grab the keys and my purse and as I'm walking out the door I hear SM say..."Go outside, GO OUTSIDE...AH CRAP!!!" 

I almost kept going. 

Almost.

Instead I turned around and went back inside and helped him clean it up. 

Aren't I sweet?

By the time I got home later that morning, Ginny was better if still a little bit off her game.  She drank a bunch of water and kept it down. So no more "yurps".

When I made lunch for SM she tried to mooch some food...Silly dog.

By the afternoon she was back to her old self.


This is what you get when you kiss a frog, Princess.

Twinkie

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

Last week I worked with a real character...let's call him Jerry. 

Jerry is in his middle 60's and owns his own business so he's used to calling the shots. 

Jerry is fast-talking and forthright.  He looks you in the eye and calls it like he sees it.  He doesn't pull any punches as he tells it to you "like it is" with his deep Boston accent.

Down here in North Carolina, Jerry is what many Southerners would consider a real Yankee.

Now I'm a Yankee too in my way.  (SM and I both come from Ohio.  Ohio is kind of like a kissing-cousin to a real Yankee.  Real Yankee's hail from places like New Yawk, and Baawstin.)  

Anyway, when we first moved down here 14 years ago, I would often hear the comment "You ain't from around here are ya?"  (Little did I know that I gave myself away by my lack of chit-chat, my fast talking ways and my directness.)

You see, Southerners just don't go for that.  There's a protocol for speaking in the South.  You gotta warm up to a conversation with a Southerner.  Talk about the weather for a few minutes before you get to the point.  "How ya'll doing today?"  "Listen to them cicadas!"  "Damn it's hot!"  "How's your Mama doing?"

I've learned to slow it down a bit, to be more sociable and "tippy-toe" around an issue before getting into it with a Southerner.  

It's funny.  I haven't been called a Yankee in many, many years.  I guess I've been absorbed into culture.  Yankees can have their melting pot.  Southerners get slow roasted and Bar-B-Qued.

For all his year's living here in the Carolina's, Jerry still hasn't been "absorbed."  I bet Jerry gets called "Yankee" alot, and not just because of his accent.

"Before we get staaa-ted, I want to let you know what I will and won't do.  All you ladies ask me to do the same thing and I've got my own story of angst to tell."  Jerry comes at me right out of the shoot, eyes sparking and fingers pointing. 

(Angst.  Now that's not a word you hear every day:)

I laughed out loud. 

Swear to God I did. 

I couldn't help myself.  (Fortunately I didn't piss him off.) 

"Well, I tell ya Jerry, I've been married to a fellow for 26 years and he can let loose some "angst" of his own on me from time to time.  So go ahead...Spill."  I said with a smile as I sat back to hear his story of woe.

Jerry was here for a second opinion and told me his story straight up and in your face.  No tap dancing with Jerry.  I gave him my full attention and took notes.  And after we got through all the important stuff, I took some time to chit-chat with him.  (Like any good Southerner would.)

You see, I LIKED Jerry and I could tell by the way Jerry was laughing and smiling he liked me just fine too.  (Yankees always like me cause I understand them.  They feel comfortable with me.  I can fall back into my Yankee-ness with a snap of my fingers.) 

We sat back and talked about being Yankees in the South.  Traded war stories so to speak. 

And after Jerry left, some of my "Southern" co-workers came up to me and told me how glad they were that I took him back and worked him up. 

"Wasn't he mean?"  They asked.

"Naw...He's a Twinkie!"  (Twinkie is a term I use to describe someone who's all tough on the outside but once you get to know them they're a cream-filled sponge cake on the inside.  There's LOTS of Twinkies out there.)




"But he was so in your face."  Said another gal. 

"No...He's just direct.  That's how most Northerners are."  I explained.

"He intimidated me."  Says another, younger co-worker.  "Scared me to death."

"Aw...He's fine.  All bark, no bite."  I said with a wave of my hand.

"Well, you can work with him when he comes back in."  Was the general consensus.

"I'd be glad to."  I said with a big ole smile.


It's not everyday that you run into a real Yankee...@;)

SM Spider Wrangler

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

The other morning I got in the shower and noticed a spider up on the ceiling in the corner.  Our ceilings are high enough that you just can't swat at it. 

Later I said to SM "Hey, did you see there's a spider in the shower?"

"Yeah." Sm responds.  "It wasn't moving so I figured it was dead."  That's what happens around here.  If it ain't moving it must be dead and some kind of cosmic absorption will happen so we don't have to deal with it.

The next day I go into the bathroom and notice the spider has moved out of the corner but still in the ceiling crack.  Still too high to deal with it. 

But now I know it's alive.

"Itsy, bitsy spider...." I sing to myself in the shower.

Yesterday morning the spider is still on the ceiling but has moved directly over the spot where I stand and transform myself everyday.  You know...the blow dry and plaster station.

But today he's dangling. 

I eyeball him.  His spidey sense must have picked up on my vibe. 

He extends one long, thin creepy leg in acknowledgement.



That's it.  

I march into SM office where he's checking email and say "Hey...That freakin spider is directly over my head.  He's gonna drop down on me for sure if I turn the blow dryer on.  Come in and deal with it.  Kill it or save it I don't care just get him outta there." 

SM is tender hearted when it comes to bugs.  He saves them if he can.

SM comes into the bathroom with a plastic cup and an envelope that has one of our utility bills in it.  He stretches and gently taps the spider onto the envelope and then into the cup.

"Happy now?"  He asks.

"Yes!  Thank you Mr Spider Wrangler."

And all is right with the world.

F-Bomb In Disguise

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

Just down the road from where we live is a company that sells various bulk mulches and soil composts.  They bag them up and sell them to the big box stores but they also have a "drive up and load up your truck" service for us locals.  The have a front loader that scoops up the mulch and dumps it into your pickup truck for a fee.  So that's where I headed Saturday Morning thinking to spiff up the front yard this weekend.

This stuff was labeled "Pine Mulch" which looks like it's all shredded up to me.   Not nuggets, not chips.  That's what I thought we'd bought before.  I come back home, pulled the truck into the front yard and got to work. 

No sooner do I get a shovel or two of this contraband onto the front yard beds than SM sticks his head out the door and says..."Um, that's not the same stuff." 

"It's not?"  I respond, playing the stupid card.  (*I can be dumb as a box of rocks when it suits me.  Like when I make a mistake like buying the wrong kind of mulch.  I mean it's not like I can take it back.)

"No.  It's supposed to be the mini-chips.  That looks all shredded up to me."  SM observes.

"Well, does it really matter?  I'm sure it looks the same from the street." I say trying to sell it as I intentionally toss another shovelful onto the bed.

"I don't like it.  The mini's look better especially up front.  They're neater."  SM says.

I give the shovel the old heave-ho back into the pickup, bend over, sweep the mulch back together with my hands and grabbing the pile of mulch, toss it back into the pickup with an over the shoulder...

"I live only to make you happy."

Few things set SM off the way that phrase does.  And "yes" I use it to annoy him.  I freely admit it.  SM stomps back into the house as I move the truck into the back yard to use the "shredded" mulch elsewhere.

I eventually wander back into the house where SM and I start discussing something else.  After a minute or two I stick my finger back into that electrical socket and say...

"What...Don't ya like the fact that I live only to serve you?"  I tease him with a big grin on my face.

"That pisses me off when you say that."  SM responds.

"Oh yeah?  Kinda like how I hate it when you say "Yes, Dear."  I counter back. 

Now SM's got a big grin on his face cause he knows how much I HATE to hear "Yes, Dear" come out of his mouth. 

I've never heard a woman use that phrase...ever.  And yet men always seem to gravitate towards it.  Am I the only one who hates it?

"Lets call this what it is, OK?"  I ask.  "We're basically being polite by using these phrases when the simple fact of the matter is that we're saying "F-you".

"Yes, Dear...."  SM says with a grin.

(*Game, set and match to SM.)

Flower Child

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

The other day when I was out wandering around the backyard I found that our Camellia bush blooming! 

Holy Moley.  In January?

Anyway I hollered at SM to come see and he said that "It was a shame they were blooming since we'd get a freeze tonight" and they'd all die back.

So I went and picked one of the blooms and started heading into the house thinking to put the bloom in a dish of water.

Of course the pups were very interested, especially Casey.

Someone is just too used to "snackies' around here.

Sweet Cheeks

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

SM and I went and did the "mother-load" of shopping yesterday.  We went to Sams Club for our bulk purchases first and then went to Walmart for the smaller stuff. 

We were trolling around with the cart at Walmart, wandering up and down the crowded asiles.  Sometimes we would seperate to grab an item here and there.  I came back after grabbing some catfood and I noticed this in the top basket.



I didn't say anything. 

We went to check out and I started gabbing with the cashier about "life".  She's bagging our food items as she's scanning and SM is grabbing the bags and putting them back in the cart.  The last thing is the Honeybun and as she scans it, she stops gabbing for a minute and hands it directly to SM, looks him in the eye and says... "I know you'll want to eat this first thing."

I started laughing and even SM had to smile when I said "Funny, how she knew that belonged to you."

I turned to the cashier and added, "I almost asked you to ring that up seperately."  (grin)

BTW, SM said it was very good. 

Such a bad, bad boy.

Snit

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

I'm in a weird place right now. 

I'm in a snit.

I looked up the definition of snit.  A state of agitation.  Yep...pretty close to what I'm feeling.

I can't seem to settle down.  My mind wanders.  I'm not inspired to do much and the things I do do, I force myself to do cause they need doing.  (How's THAT for an interesting sentence?)

I'm restless, indecisive and annoyed.  But I'm not really in a bad mood.  I'm not.  But I am looking for distraction...for humor, for fun, for inspiration.

I usually get this way in January.  
I know what it is.  
It's the darkness of winter.  
I miss my garden.  
I miss the green things.  
I miss the little changes that happen to the plants as they grow.  
I miss the smells. 

I'm getting extra hours at work this month which is actually a relief to my sanity as well as to my pocket book.  

The other day, a co-worker asked how my weekend went and I told her "It was too long...I'm glad to be back to work."  She looked at me like I was crazy.  "Who actually WANTS to work?"  

She has a point.  While I do enjoy my work, I firmly believe I'd be one of the first people to leave it behind in pursuit of other things if I had the financial wherewith all to do it.

Which makes me think that I'd probably be a bored rich person.  

Seriously.  That would be my luck.  

That even though I could have anything I asked for (financially speaking) I'd still be in a snit during the dark season.

Unless I could run away from winter.  Run away from the dark days.  Head to the Southern Hemisphere where it's heading into Summer right now.



Hmmm.  A girl can always dream can't she?

Selective Hearing

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

I don't hear so good anymore.  At least that's what I think.  SM on the other hand thinks that I tune him out...That I'm just not paying attention to him anymore. 

I think he mumbles when he talks and for some reason he's always in another room talking to me when I'm busy in a different room with some chore that happens to be making it's own noise.  "Seriously, I can't hear you when the washing machine is running and I'm sorting clothes!"

This week a funny thing happened.  

For about a week now, when I'm in our master bathroom, I've been hearing water running under the house.  Like a pipe that's burst or a toilet running.  Flowing water. 

SM came into the bathroom to chat with me Tuesday morning while I was getting ready to go to work.  He's sitting on the tub.  I'm putting my makeup on.

"Do ya hear that?"  Me

"What?"  SM

"That!  There's water running under the house."  Me

"No.  That's the neighbors swimming pool filter."  He gets up and opens the bathroom window.  We both stick our heads out the window and fall silent listening.

"No, it's under the house."  I say, visions of massive water damage dancing in my head.  "Can't you go under the house and take a look?"

"You're hearing things.  Besides I've got to get to work myself."  SM says clearly not concerned.

Two more days go by until SM finally decides to go under the house.  Mostly because I've pestered him into it and he's tired of me nagging about it.  "I'll never hear the end of it until I go check it out.  Geez!"

Flashlight in hand, SM makes his way into the creepy spider filled underbelly of our house.  I'm at the opposite end of the house in the kitchen fixing dinner when the dogs start barking and I hear SM pounding the floorboards trying to get my attention.

I go outside, dogs barking and jumping, and hear him yelling for me.  "Yeah, I'm here."  I holler inside the crawl space door. 

"Get me (such and such a clamp, nylon thingie)".  SM hollers back. 

Like I'm actually going to find this gizmo.  I leave the potatoes boiling on the stove and wander into the garage, the back of his truck, the minivan looking for this "thingie" he wants thinking to myself this would be WAY easier if he'd just crawl back out and find it himself.

"This is why women do women's work and men do everything else..."  I mutter to myself.  I finally admit defeat.  "I can't find it (the thingie)."  I holler back into the black underbelly of the house.

"Fine.  How about some duck tape."  Now that I can find!

I toss the roll of tape somewhere in the vicinity of where he's at and head back into the kitchen.

SM eventualy emerges from under the house.  He's dusting himself off on the back porch and comes walking into the kitchen.

"Good Year."  He says.

"What?" I respond.

"Good Year."  He says again not 5 feet from me.  In my head I'm thinking what the hell does this have to do with Good Year Tires?

"Good Year????"  I say clearly confused.  SM  busts out laughing.  He takes another step towards me and says very slowly and loudly...

"GOOD E-A-R."

"Oh."

My lightbulb comes on as SM is laughing his ass off.  I smile sheepishly.  (He's telling me that I was right.  There WAS a leak under the house.)

SM is shaking his head, laughing.  "How can you hear a tiny trickle, a drizzle of water really...squirting from underneath the house...and you can't hear me talking to you, standing 2 feet away from you..."  He wanders away snorting.

This is a true story.

You be the judge...(Personally I think I've been married too long.  SMs become background noise.)

Stoplight Doodle

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

When I jumped in the Jeep yesterday morning to head into work I looked down at the "catch-all" area that all vehicles have and spotted this.

I had to laugh. 

The day before I'd been given this big bulky pen from a pharmaceutical rep.  It was in my scrub pocket when I'd left work and I'd tossed it in the "catch all".  I remember sitting at a long stoplight, bored as usual listening to talk radio.   You know, politics, local issues...crap like that.  I'd wondered what color the pen ink was and must've scribbled this doodle and didn't think anything more about it.

Now...Is this a self portrait?  Sure looks like one to me. 

But I never wear skirts so I don't know what's up with that.  And I don't think I'm bow legged, last time I looked anyway.

She looks like she's got a decent "rack" on her and while I used to be stick straight when I was younger, I must admit the extra 20lbs looks pretty good on the hips.

Wimpy arms (check) and the fuzzy hair (check, check).  Not much of an expression on her face though.  Tough day at work?  Frustrated by the politics of the day?

So if I had to apply a caption "bubble" over this girl's head, what would it say?

Childhood Memories

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

I was putting the box fan away for the year in the room that holds all our crap...
(Yes, we have a ROOM for all that.  When you live with a pack rat you need a room...er, several rooms.)...when I spotted this picture.

My Grandpa having a good time behind the bar.  Makes you wonder what the conversation was about. 

I'm mean, I knew them as Grandma and Grandpa, but they lived a life before I came along.  Just like you and me, they hung out with friends, told goofy jokes, bitched about their jobs and put one foot in front of the other.  

Check out the cigar in his hand.  

I remember he always had a stump of a cigar in his mouth and then he switched to chew.  That tobacco smelled SO good when it was in it's package.  "Redman" I think it was.  It had a package of an Indian on it.  I would grab it and and sniff it like it was rubber cement.  (Do they even make rubber cement anymore?)

Oh...Lookie!  Here's another!  
Sounds like a fish story to me.  

Grandpa used to own a marina on Lake Ontario.  I remember I would love to go in and stick my hand in the minnow tank there and feel the minnows swimming buy.  

I'd always get yelled at to leave them alone too.  
Tons of blue gills off the pier edge for the intrepid kid and her fishing pole with a bobber attached.

Grandma and Grandpa had a small 2 bedroom, 1 bath house that faced the lake.  I sometimes would get to spend all summer up there with them.  I loved those summers.  I'd work in the garden picking peas and digging new potatoes.  I hated the feel of dirt on my hands back then.

I remember taking long hikes up the hill by myself.  I'd be gone for an hour or two exploring.  Never occurred to me to be scared.  I wonder if that's how I developed my great sense of direction.  I never got lost!

Grandma would let me tag along with her when she and her lady friends went golfing.  They would eat lunch at the club.  I remember sitting quietly paying attention to the "adult talk." 

Then we'd go grocery shopping and she'd stop by a local chicken farm and pick up eggs.  It was a commercial place and stinky.  

Every day we'd go pick up the mail in this tiny little post office with the old fashioned post office boxes.  Every Tuesday Grandma would get her hair "done" at the salon.  I never went with her for those visits.

Back at the house, Grandma and Grandpa would have "Happy Hour" every day at 4 o'clock.  They'd have a cocktail and we would sit at the kitchen table in front of the big plate glass window that looked out on the lake.  Grandpa would snack on some celery and radishes that he would dip in a bit of salt.  

Grandma never sat down in the kitchen, she was always moving around.  She made her own bread which I never liked being raised on Wonder bread. 

Yep, those were good times.  I liked it best if I was up there by myself but sometimes I had to share Grandma and Grandpa with my baby brother and my sisters.

Yeah that's me...the tall one on the right.  
What's with those stripes?
1970's!

You Stupid Idiot

** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

I've mentioned Susan before. 

Susan is my 64 year old fountain of menopausal wisdom friend that I work with from time to time.  She's a Southern lady born and bred from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. 

Susan is semi retired.  She's our go-to-fill-in-girl when we're short handed at work.  Which means she's been on the job a few days more than what she'd like to be lately.

Susan comes in to get away from her retired hubby whom she loves but she admits that if she doesn't get away from him from time to time she's likely to kill him.  (Preach on Sister!)

Anyway, everyone was congregated in my office during a slow afternoon this week and we're "jawing" about what's happening in our lives.  My boss was relating a story of woe from her weekend when I hear Susan say "Why bless your heart." 

My head snapped up and I started laughing.  Everyone looks at me and I say "Isn't that Southern for "You sure are a stupid idiot?""

Susan colors up and and everyone starts laughing.  My boss is laughing the hardest.  "I guess we all know how you think now."  She says.

This got me to thinking about back-handed compliments and regional sayings.

Living in the South for the last 13 years, you have a tendency to pick up on a few phrases that the natives use.  I'd love to be able to say things like "Bless your heart!" but being a displaced Yankee, it just sounds wrong.  Like I'm not part of the club.  But I do love to hear the natives talk "colorful" like that.

So I googled "Southern Phrases" and found this list.  Some of which had me laughing.  I need to learn a few of these...

Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

That’d make a preacher cuss.

That child’s been beat with a big ole ugly stick.

Don’t pee down my back and tell me it’s raining!

On me like stink on a polecat!

If you can’t run with the big dogs, stay on the porch.


And my personal favorite... Well, butter my butt and call me a biscut!

Do ya'll have any favorite local sayings?

Flying Raisins

*** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

I went into the kitchen this morning and as I was making SM's coffee, I heard the low drone of a bomber aircraft.  You know.  That low, "I'm too heavy for my wings" sound. 

Something buzzed my field of vision.  Half awake, I figured we must have a bee in the house.  (*If the weather is halfway decent, I always leave our backdoor open so the dogs can go in and out, plus it gives us some nice fresh air.  Consequently, I always have flys, bees and moths in the house.)

I kept making the coffee hoping that whatever it was wouldn't end up in the pot.  I was buzzed again, this time though I was awake enough to notice what it was.

A big fly.  Not the normal tiny housefly.  We call those flying raisins around here.  Snacks for the dogs who love to chase them down.  Nope.  This one was the mother of all fly's. 

 
Big, iridescent and green.  Kinda pretty.

Now I own a fly swatter.  I rarely use it though since our open door policy means that I'd have to try and kill every fly on the planet.  I do have other things to do with my time.

"If you were a bee I'd try and save you.  As it is, your days are numbered, Dude." 

The fly sit's on the counter just begging to be smacked.  I get closer and he takes off.  3 pairs of doggie eyes watch as he drones on by, just out of reach.

"If you can wait until the door is open later on you just might die an honorable death outside where you belong."

Scooter makes a lunge, snapping.

Somehow I doubt he'll last that long.

The A To Z Of Me

*** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

Laura at Our Wee Farm offered up this cute meme and since there's nothing going on in my world right now, I thought I'd participate.

A=Age; 53 1/2 Holy Sh*t...Really?
B=Bed size; King.  We started out in a twin.  Moved up to a queen.  And now it's a King...Love it!
C=Chore that you hate; Scrubbing out the shower...Yuck!
D=Dogs; Scooter, Ginny and Casey (or Boo, Princess and Piglet, or Squirrel Bait, Gin-Gin and Flounder, or Pasta Head, Eqyptian Queen and Tapper...)  Too many nicknames to count!
E=Essential start to you day; A walk with the pups.  I need to breathe the fresh air and have some quiet time.
F= Favourite colour; Acid Green (But actually any green will do)
G=Gold or silver; Gold.  But the only thing I wear now is a pair of earrings.
H= Height; 5ft 8in and shrinking
I=- Instruments you play; Nada, nothing.
J=Job title; Surgical Tech/Consultant
K-Kids; Just the pup's and SM
L=Live; I was born in NY State, moved to Texas, then Ohio, Virginia Beach, back to Ohio and now North Carolina.  I tell SM I want to live in an RV out west like my Mom does.
M=Mother's name; Donna
N=Nickname; Squeetie.  Only SM uses that one though.
O=Overnight hospital stays; Two.  As a child, I was in for kidney issues and an emergency appendectomy 5 yrs ago.
P=Pet peeves; Anything messy.  I can't think with a mess.  Considering I live with Mr Disorganized, I'm amazed that I can think at all.
Q=Quotes from a film; "Silly rabbit...Tricks are for kids."  Kill Bill Vol 1 and "I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills."  Out of Africa- The best movie ever made IMHO.
R=Right or left handed; Right handed, left brained.
S= Siblings; Three.  One older sister, one younger sister and a kid brother
T=Time you wake up; Between 4:30 and 5:30 every "freakin" day.  I wouldn't know how to sleep in.
U=Underwear; Why would I discuss that?  "Yes Mom...They're clean!"
V=Vegetable I hate: Brussel sprouts and spinach.  Too bitter.
W=What makes you run late; SM
X=Xrays you've had; Too many to count.  I'm a "Glow-Rod."
Y=Yummy food that you make; Soups, cookies and cakes.  Or at least that's what I get complimented on the most.  EVERYONE loves my Oatmeal Craisins.
Z=Zoo animals; What about em?  I am fascinated by the Gorilla and Monkey houses. What does THAT say about me?

A Dot The i Cross The t Kinda Girl

*** I am dedicating JANUARY 2016 as the month of the "rewind".  I'm going to highlight some of my personal favorite posts this month. Enjoy these Blasts From The Past. ***

Last fall I had made a cake and followed the recipe to the T.  It came out dry and not good at all.  SM made an effort with it, but I eventually tossed it and mentally put it in the "looser" camp.

I tried it again a couple of days ago and adjusted the recipe and watched it like a hawk while it was baking.

As it was cooling on the counter, I gave SM his marching orders.  (I don't eat gluten anymore so it's not like I could taste test it.)

"Ok...I don't think I overcooked it this time and the recipe called for 3 eggs but I changed that to 2 eggs and 1 egg yolk cause Alton Brown says that egg whites will dry out your baked goods."  Me

(*Alton Brown is a God in my household.  "Alton Brown says this."  Tami do.  "Alton Brown says that?"  Tami bows down before the wisdom of Alton Brown.) 

"I'm sure it'll be fine."  SM

"Well, I need to know cause if it's a stinker this time than I'm giving up on it."  Me

"You're such a perfectionist!"  SM

"I am NOT."  Me

"Are too."  SM  (We are such children...)

"I'm not a perfectionist...I just like for things to be successful.  What's wrong with making sure food tastes good?  If I'm going to garden, why not do everything I can to ensure a successful harvest?  Everything can be improved, can't it?  And once you find what works than you can repeat it."  Me

"Right.  You're a perfectionist."  SM

Crap!  Am I a perfectionist?  (Must go to Holy Google for further research...)

Perfectionist (In Bold) vs Healthy Striver (In Italic)

(Ohhh...I like that.  "Healthly Striver" instead of "Type A" pain in the A$$)

Sets standards beyond reach and reason
Sets high standards, but just beyond reach (Yep)

Is never satisfied by anything less than perfection
Enjoys process as well as outcome (Check 2)

Becomes depressed when experiences failure and disappointment
Bounces back from failure and disappointment quickly and with energy (See me bounce around?  A bundle of energy I tell you)

Preoccupied with fear of failure / disapproval. This depletes energy levels
Keeps normal anxiety and fear of failure and disapproval within bounds — uses them to create energy (Sure...why not?)

Sees mistakes as evidence of unworthiness
Sees mistakes as opportunities for growth and learning (Oh Yeah, Baby!)

Becomes overly defensive when criticized (hmmm)
Reacts positively to helpful criticism

All true!  Well, except maybe for that last bit about criticism.  I can definately get my back up when being criticized.  Hey, we can't all be perfect!

"Ha...See there!"  I say pointing at the computer monitor. "What do you think about THAT!" Me

"Right.  Perfectionist!"  SM

***(Turns out the cake, according to SM, was quite good.  Dense and rich but better than the first effort.  "Aren't you glad I'm such a perfectionist?" (Grin) Is it a keeper?  Nah...there's always a better chocolate cake recipe out there. Says the "Healthy Striver" in me.)

Promise

I knew that the day would come when I would need to be reminded that Summer would come again.

The sun would shine.
The birds and cicadas would sing.
And the flowers would bloom.

I can almost feel the breeze...