Snake Away

Yep, there really is a product on the market that is supposed to repel snakes. Supposedly once you sprinkle it on the ground snakes will not cross the granules. I always wonder if snakes are aware of this because I am at Lowe's a lot and not one time have I seen a snake in there reading the back of that bag. I live in a condo building between the ICW and a fair sized pond and while we do have snakes it was the 6 foot alligator they pulled out of the pond that really scared the bejesus out of me. It took DNR several tries and multiple whole chickens before they had him on the bank, mouth duct taped closed and ready to load in the back of a pickup. I told the grandchildren he was being taken down Hwy 17 to Alligator Adventure but me thinks he is probably a handbag on Paris Hilton's arm.

Swimsuit Season!

One of the best things about living in Myrtle Beach is it's warm most of the year. One of the downers of living in Myrtle Beach is swimsuit season is practically year round...like I want that kind of daily humiliation. If you need a real chuckle bring a friend along and try on bathing suits while you are wearing knee highs or even better, white sweat socks. Wowser, what a vision and it's enough to make you want to bring back the days of bathing suits with sleeves, matching hats and stockings. A friend of mine, who also shops in the Jumbo Petite section, told me that she had replaced the bottom part of her bathing suit with one of those black, high waisted guaranteed to hold your gut in even after Thanksgiving dinner panty gizmos so of course I immediately bought a pair. OK...according to the directions you put the panties on the floor, step into the leg holes and start working them up. HOLY COW...pull, tug, yank and ALMOST over the calves, my knees just snapped together but..I..AM..MAKING...PROGRESS. Yank, pull, tug and OH MY GOD...somebody took all the oxygen out of the room and I am seeing spots, one more tug and I am almost there...just a little more, whew got it! Hmm, that's not so bad and OH MY GOD...you could bounce a quarter off my butt. I bent over to pick up the bathing suit top and holy moly the whole contraption rolled down like a window shade. CRAP! OK...start over. Pull, tug, pull, tug...pant, OK. Just...a...little...more. Almost. Yank and PULL. There, got it! Bend over again but am snapped back to attention by my ribs of steel "undergarment". Well, bending over is out so....I carefully use my toes to pickup the bathing suit top and after several unsuccessful tries at flinging it towards my shaking hands... the top finally caught on my outstretched thumb. Sweat is pouring down my back, my hair is stuck to my head and my calf muscles are cramping from the strain but my posture is perfect! I get the top on and considering what I have to work with...not bad. However, thanks to the ribs of steel "undergarmet" all my fat has been squeezed to the top and it appears I have grown a third boob or perhaps it's a low riding goiter. Lovely. So I peeled off the ribs of steel undergarmet, pitched it in the garbage and we are all better off because if that thing let loose...somebody would have lost an eye.

Another thought...

Have you ever noticed that you never see women just sitting like the men at Hamricks that I wrote about yesterday? Anytime there are two or more women you very seldom see them just sitting and it's very likely that within the next 15 minutes they will have organized a fund raiser for the church, planned a blood drive and finished a quilt one of them had stuffed in her ginormous handbag. Are women more self sufficient or do we not know how to relax?

Husband Repository

We have a Hamrick's here in town that is a favorite shopping place for the blue hairs (I can SO say that because I am a regular shopper there) and right inside the entrance Hamrick's has placed benches that appear to serve as a drop off point for husbands. On any given day you will see an assortment of men ranging in age from early 50's to next stop death all waiting patiently for their women folk to redeem their claim check and shuffle them off to the next shopping stop that offers an additional 15% off on senior citizens day. I often wonder about these men who are sitting there in their plaid polyester shorts, brown vinyl sandals and black socks halfway up their hairless calves. The men sometimes talk to each other but the majority of the time they are content to doze in the warm sun streaming through the windows. In the not too distant past they were bank presidents, factory workers, salesmen, CEO's and Daddy's. During their working years these men made decisions, had their own friends, provided well for their families and I have to wonder if this is how they envisioned retirement. Were they happier working? Did they retire too soon? We devote a lot of time preparing for our working years and sometimes I think we need to devote the same amount of time preparing for retirement. If you are ever in Myrtle Beach and see an old sorta blonde, fat lady dozing on a bench at Hamricks it's probably me and you have my permission to snatch me up by the back of the neck and put me back to work.
You want fries with that?

All Things Webkinz

How many Webkinz are too many? Does your family think you need an intervention? Five of my six grandchildren love Webkins. Shhhh... actually all six of them still like Webkinz so don't tell anybody that when no one is watching our resident very cool teenager still enjoys the games. Of course she would NEVER let her friends know she still checks out Quizzys but don't worry Tory, your secret is safe with me and I won't tell anyone...I promise. I think American Girl Doll is probably the all time champion of sucking money out of grandmothers retirement accounts but Webkinz is rapidly gaining ground. Webkinz are addictive and it is virtually impossible to buy just one...OH and the Webkinz people are pretty dern smart too. They have a great website for kids with all kinds of games and activities but the catch is your registration is good for one year and when that year is up the only way to renew is TO PURCHASE ANOTHER WEBKINZ. Dang! Their marketing people are goooood! American Girl Doll is probably the main reason we grandmas have been reduced to eating Little Frisky casserole (not that I mind all that much) but Webkinz has to be a very close second.

Shark attack??

Please don't think that I don't have sympathy for people who have been injured or anyone who has actually, God forbid, lost a loved one due to a shark bite as that is not the case at all but what I don't understand are the media headlines like this is a HUGE surprise. For those of you who live under a rock and therefore are not aware...sharks live in the ocean. The ocean is their home and while it is a very large home sharks do swim close to shore where they encounter people everyday. Most of the time sharks will give people a wide berth and we won't have any idea a shark is within reach but sometimes sharks bite. Is that an attack? Some people obviously feel that way but I don't think that's an attack. If an intruder entered my home I would not hesitate to smack him upside the head with a Louisville Slugger and call it self defense. I feel the same way about bears. How many times have we seen the headline MAN ATTACKED BY BEAR IN THE WOODS. Well duh, bears live in the woods BUT if the headline read MAN ATTACKED BY BEAR IN THE PIGGLY WIGGLY...that would be a surprise, newsworthy and deserving of a headline. I'm tired of the media treating us like we are complete idiots and instead of informing us of the facts they are manufacturing news. Guess I will step down from my soap box now but it irritates me when the media tries to blow smoke up my bloomers.

Ahoy Matey

Just so you don't think I am the only person in our family who excelled at faux paus let me tell you about the time Dave managed to pull a friends baby halfway up the mast of our 27 ft sail boat. OH YES...that was a real fun day. These folks were first time parents and EXTREMELY protective so you can imagine how thrilled they were to have their precious offspring yanked off their lap and run up the mast. All of you who have more than one child know that our standards tend to relax, probably not relaxed enough to allow your friend to wrap a rope around your baby and yank him 10 ft up in the air, but at some point you do stop washing the dog in Purell. One of Dave's co-workers loved to sail and finally managed to convince his nervous wife (never sailed, not fond of water) that it was perfectly safe for them to spend the day with us at the lake. Foolish, foolish man. In Dave's defense he invested in the best baby size life jacket and a baby water float but in retrospect a concrete block would have been the wiser purchase. It was a perfect day to be at the lake..blue sky, light breeze and the water was warm enough for swimming. Our friends met us at the dock and after donning our life vests Dave heads to the main part of the lake. A not too strong steady breeze...great day for a first time sailor. Dave told the parents that he was going to raise the main sail and we will be going a bit faster so they should shift over to the "high side" of the boat. Well...somehow as the happy little family shifted to the other side of the boat the main sail line tangled in the baby's life jacket just as Dave put his full weight on the line to raise the sail.....soooo the baby went up right along with the sail. The mother screamed, the baby shot halfway up the mast and I thought poor Dave would have a heart attack. Well, the baby was quickly returned to his mother. We did spend the rest of the day on the water and I seem to remember that we had fun but that was the last time they ever went sailing with us...wonder why?

Gotta getta Neti Pot!

These things are miracle workers! I happened to be home one day when they were demonstrated on Oprah and thought they looked like something I should try since I seem to have "issues" with spring pollen. Eddie bought one for Cameron and it has made a tremendous difference for him. I figured if you can get a 5 year old to willingly put water up his nose you know the end result must make him feel better. Anyway, after hacking and blowing my nose (getting turned on yet?) for two days I finally broke down and bought a Neti Pot. Hmmm, it looks an awful lot like my Grandma's gravy boat but whatever, if Oprah says it works it can't be all bad. So after making sure all the blinds were closed and the bathroom door was locked (just in case) I mixed up the solution and followed the directions. OH MY GOSH....the Neti Pot is a miracle! I can breathe, I'm not coughing and blowing my nose and there was a GIANT benefit that I wasn't expecting...my undereye bags are gone! Can't wait to see what it will do for my butt.

What smell?

It was 1978 , our first family trip to Disney World and no Katy...we didn't go in a covered wagon. The kids were 10, 8 and 7 and reasonably good travelers so we were all really looking forward to this trip. 1978 was also the year that I decided it was time for me to be super organized (thank God that didn't last long) and I packed one days clothes for each child in a Ziploc bag. Theory was all they had to do was grab a bag with their name and they would have underwear, socks, shorts shirt and I even remembered to put hair bows and barrettes in the girls baggies. It worked really well until toward the end of the two weeks when we seemed to be long on socks but short on underwear and that's a whole other story. The day we were leaving for FL our local grocery had a huge grand reopening sale to celebrate their recent renovation and there was no way I was passing up those bargains. Dave and the kids stayed home to finish packing while I heaped my basket with three for one canned goods, laundry detergent, cleaning supplies, whole chickens, rump roasts and paper towels. I hurried home and everybody helped unload the groceries so we could get the luggage loaded and head to Disney World! As fast as the kids and I were taking in groceries Dave was packing the trunk with the luggage plus my cardboard box of Ziploc bags with the kids clothes. My theory was when we stopped at motels all the kids would have to do is grab a bag and I would have everyones toothbrush, hair brushes and jammies in my overnight bag. Lots less luggage to carry in a motel...right? We actually had the car packed and ready to hit the road before 9 AM which was 3 hours later than Dave wanted to leave but at least 2 hours earlier than I thought we would be ready to go. We made it to Knoxville that first night and found a motel with a great pool that even had a slide (big time for 1978) so our trip was off to a good start. About 3 PM the next day the air conditioner was on high but the sun was beating down with a passion and it was about then that the trouble started. We love Eddie, really we do but when she was a child there was nothing she loved more than relaying bad news. I seem to remember it was about that time that Eddie announced she smelled something and it didn't smell good. Of course with Eddie's love for all bad news that statement was made with the same glee that somone else would have had after finding a 5 caret diamond while walking on the beach. After giving her brother and father the LOOK and both proclaimed innocence I told her we probably were going through a bad area and the smell would go away. Hey....she was 7 and still believed everything I told her. She and Polly still thought I could blow on traffic lights and make them turn green. The next afternoon we are pulling into Orlando and truth be told we are all becoming VERY aware of an unpleasant smell but after several searches of the trunk, under the backseat....nothing. Can't find anything. We arrive at Disney World about 3 in the afternoon and hot....oh my gosh it's hot but we can't wait another minute and plan to spend the afternoon at Magic Kingdom and check-in our motel after the evening fireworks show. We had a great time and arrived back at our car, sweaty, tired, ready to take a shower and go to bed so we can come back early the next morning. We opened the car doors and the WORSE SMELL EVER came rolling out carried by the heat waves that had built up all afternoon. So there we were, in the parking lot, in the dark, holding our noses and taking EVERYTHING out of the trunk. Still we can't find the source UNTIL Dave moved the spare tire and uncovered what used to be a whole chicken. It wasn't pretty. By this time we are all gagging and begging Dave to PLEASE GET RID OF THE CHICKEN. I honestly don't remember what he did with the chicken but I am willing to bet we traumatized an entire cleaning crew that night. We drove to our motel with the air conditioning going full blast, windows wide open and all five of us hanging our heads out like cocker spaniels. By the time we arrived at the motel our hair, the clothes we were wearing and EVERYTHING in the trunk reeked of rotten chicken and I still don't understand why they allowed us to check in. The desk clerk had to be hard of smelling. Sooo....I was in the motel room scrubbing and shampooing children, wrapping them in clean towels and stuffing the offending clothes in trash bags to THROW AWAY while Dave took all of my carefully packed Ziploc bags to the laundry, dumped the clothes in the washer, threw away the bags, threw away the luggage and sprayed the trunk with some kind of bleach product. While the clothes were in the dryer he found a K-mart and bought two big plastic bins. He took the washed and dried clothes and dumped them in the plastic bins. Nothing was folded or matched and every morning there were five people digging around in plastic bins trying to find underpants and matching socks. I swear to God for the next two weeks our family looked like a band of gypsies but we had fun and we smelled gooood!

A new gastric low.

Last night I wanted something sweet and I had NOTHING. Looked in every cabinet, the freezer...just in case a box of Girl Scout cookies were lost in the back. Nope...no cookies and not even an old ice cream bar. Thought about a bowl of cereal but I didn't have any milk and I'm out of PB & J so that meant I had to get creative. OK....I found 1/3 of a package of cream cheese and a can of pumpkin. Whooptido. Hmm, I have brown sugar, I have rum...OK now we're onto something. Soooo...I softened the cream cheese in the microwave, mixed in some pumpkin, brown sugar and rum. Well, it wasn't a Snickers or a Twix (that is what I really really wanted) but it did keep me from eating the three hairy M & M's I found between the couch cushions.

P.S. You know Im' kidding about not eating the M & M's.....right?

Butter CAN be a beverage.

Oh I know that is not true or even very appetizing but I thought it sounded like something my family would say plus everything I have eaten this week started out with "first you melt 5 pounds of butter". I found the best recipe this week and for the life of me I can't remember where it came from. It was on someones blog and it was a blog that I hadn't read before and I thought I had saved it to my favorites but apparently I didn't. I will be happy to give credit where credit is due.....when I find the site again. GAWD....it's hell getting old!

MUSHROOM BREAD

1 can of Crescent Rolls

1 tbs butter

2 cups fresh mushrooms

garlic

Italian Seasoning

1/4 cup fresh grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 375

Unroll the crescent roll dough on a cookie sheet or baking stone and spread the dough until it covers about half of the cookie sheet or baking stone. Doesn't have to be exact....just do your thang and schooch it around. Melt the butter in a skillet and saute the fresh mushrooms. I tried this recipe once with canned mushrooms and...ummm, not so good. Way too watery. Sprinkle the garlic and Italian seasoning on the dough (a lot or a little...depends on your taste) while the mushrooms are sauteing. Smell good? Even Bill Clinton can't resist inhaling when he makes this bread. Dump the skillet contents (DUH...of course including the butter) on the dough and spread around a bit. Sprinkle the fresh grated Parmesan cheese over the mushrooms and bake for 15 minutes or until the bread is golden brown and the smell is making you so hungry you are ready to crawl right in that oven and grab a piece of bread. You will be hooked after one batch and I swear it's good enough to make you sit straight up and slap your Mama!

P.S. Hmmm, I am thinking the next time I make this bread maybe I will carmelize a little onion and add a few sliced black olives.

How DOES the man do it???

Dave worked at GM for 10 years before joining IBM and he never lost his love for all things powered by an engine. In the early 90's our family even had a hovercraft that we used on our lake, the Wabash River and an occasional parade. Our State Farm agent told me that we qualified for the fleet rate and I don't think he was kidding. Dave and I each had a car and each of the three kids had their own car even though Polly would disagree on that one because according to Polly hers was a death trap and in my defense...I did not say they were GOOD cars. Dave also had a MGB convertible and a motorcycle. So for several years we had six cars, a motorcycle and a hovercraft. Geesh....I bet State Farm misses Dave more than I do! We were married for almost 30 years before Dave passed away in 2002 and during all that time his subscription to Motor Trend never expired. Not only did it not expire he never threw one single copy away and those magazines were everywhere. They were in the bathroom (yeah right, like you don't keep a magazine or two in the bathroom), stacked on the family room coffee table, beside his chair, on the breakfast bar, his nightstand and there were boxes of them in the garage. For some weird cosmic reason Motor Trend continues to arrive every month but what I really want to know is how the heck is he mailing out that little postcard to renew his subscription??

Stuff

It seems like I have spent 99% of my life worrying about stuff. Either I didn't have any stuff or the stuff I already had needed to be cleaned or packed or put away. I have gotten jobs solely to buy more stuff and then taken vacation days to sort, organize, repair or wash my stuff. I have even bought stuff to organize my stuff. When my children lived at home with all their stuff and of course my husband had his share of stuff so our home was pretty much stuffed with stuff. I have been working very very hard the past few years on thinning out, giving away and handing down our stuff and I think I'm making real progress. I was feeling very good about this progress until I realized that I spent the first half of my life in a giant quest devoted to "getting" stuff and am spending the second half of my life "getting rid" of the stuff that I just had to have. I know there is a message in here someplace and I sincerely hope ya all can find it in the midst of all this stuff.

Fun Times

Rod (my starter husband) and his good buddy Jim loved old cars and in April of 1970 they bought a 1930 something Ford Coupe that was hardly more than a chassis. OH, it had an engine but most of the engine was in multiple greasy boxes that were sitting where a seat should have been so of course they towed their prize to our house and put it in the barn where they planned to restore it to it's former glory. After many many nights and weekends they finally had the engine back to "sorta" running and were dying to get this thing out on the road. There were lots of problems with that plan but one of the main issues was that the car did not yet have a usable gas tank. Soooo, these two geniuses filled a gallon jug with gasoline and ran a plastic tube from the jug to the engine. We lived way out in the country and they really had waited longer than I ever dreamed they would wait before they just HAD to try it our on our road. Jim won the coin toss and got to drive so that meant Rod was sitting in a folding lawn chair with a jug of gasoline in his lap. Now...when I say we lived in the country I mean COUNTRY. You had to drive on two gravel roads to even get to the dirt road where we lived. I can only imagine how surprised the boys were to see flashing blue lights come up behind them and they immediately pulled to the side of the road. The state trooper circled the car three times taking note of no license plate, no windshield, no doors, no windows and of course the folding lawn chairs. The state trooper shook his head, checked out the lawn chairs, gasoline jug, plastic tubing and said, "Boys...I don't have enough paper in this book to even begin covering every law you have broken. How about you take this thing back to the barn and we just pretend we never saw each other." Ah yes, the good ole days.

I wish I was Amish

I have discovered how the Amish have time to take care of all those children, milk the cows, home school, bake bread, plant ginormous gardens and make their own clothes. Their religion forbids photographs so they don't have to spend half their lives sorting pictures from 1890 through 2008! Heck, if I wasn't up to my elbows in negatives and a butt load of photographs of people with beehive hairdos and buck teeth I might find the time to bake a loaf of bread, stitch a Holly Hobby frock and maybe even a bonnet or two. I have decided that THIS IS THE YEAR that I am getting all of these old photos into albums. This is not the first time I have taken on this project but the other 28 dozen times I have gotten discouraged, shoved the photos back into HUGE BINS and collapsed in the recliner while cursing Mr. Kodak and slurping a margarita. I think I've been going about this project all wrong so this time I'm starting out with the margarita.

Happy Birthday Polly!

My baby girl is 38 years old. Oh wait, I forgot she decided to stick at 29 again this year. Of course that means instead of being one year older than her baby sister, Eddie, Polly is now eight years younger. Eddie is beginning to get a little ticked but we decided Polly Land must be a very happy place and we would LOVE to visit there someday. Polly weighed 10 pounds when she was born and had these darling little fat wrinkles on her wrists and thighs that had to be cleaned with a Q-tip. She was bald but had these six inch strands of hair beginning right at her ear lobe which made her resemble a blue eyed, blond Hasidic Jew. My mother was so excited that we had a little girl to play dress up and have tea parties with that she just couldn't help herself and bought a very frilly, rufflled (and probably itchy) dress for Polly to wear home from the hospital but unfortunately Mom bought the Newborn size. Well, Pol wore the dress but the top two buttons were not able to be buttoned and the sleeves were so tight her chubby little arms looked like sausages. Polly Ann completely stole my heart at 2:37 PM on April 15, 1970 and even though she has passed her fat wrinkles to me...she still has my heart.

The difference between boys and girls.

Oh don't get all panicky and nervous, I'm not talking about THOSE differences. Montana Granddaughter Sarah is in the 5th grade and her class has been studying European countries. On Friday each child brought a food item from a European country and costumes were optional but encouraged. Costumes? Did somebody mention costumes?? Heck yes Sarah wanted a costume! She choose Germany for her country and Polly found a square dancing skirt (I don't even want to know where), a crinoline, white tights and a puffy sleeved blouse that laced up the front with ribbon. Polly also had enough of the matching ribbon to braid into Sarah's hair and Sarah looked even more adorable than usual. Polly and Sarah spent DAYS getting ready for Friday and after much discussion Sarah finally decided she wanted to make a German pork loin with potatoes and sauerkraut. Thursday night Polly was on the way to the store to buy the pork loin and since her friend, Janelle, has a son in that same class Polly called to see if Janelle needed anything at the store. This is their phone conversation:

Janelle: Hello
Polly: Hey Janelle, I'm on my way to the store do you need for me to pickup anything for you?
Janelle: Uhhh....no but thanks for asking.
Polly: Oh OK, I'm on my way to get sauerkraut and a pork loin for Sarah to take to school tomorrow and thought you might need something.
Janelle: Pork loin??? Are you kidding me? For tomorrow? For European day?
Polly: Uhhhh....yes, why?
Janelle: Well...Conner came home from school today and said, "Mom I'm wearing shorts tomorrow and I need a package of swiss cheese.

We are guessing that Conner has chosen Switzerland for his country.

That my friends is the difference between boys and girls.

Ever give a cat a shot?

I'm not talking about Tequila and a lime wedge I'm talking about an injection. I figure if you are giving your cats shots of Tequila you aren't the type of person who would be even mildly interested in anything I have to say and probably stopped reading when you figured out I wasn't talking about liquor. The first time I gave Gingles her shot we did just fine as I had the element of surprise on my side. The second day, ummm.....not so much. She is feeling better and is more alert which means when she saw that syringe all hell broke loose. For a cat who was near death two days ago let me tell you what, that old girl can flat out move. I pulled her out from behind the couch, chased her down the hall and seriously considered throwing that syringe like a South American poison dart. Mission accomplished but I sure hope PETA wasn't watching.

Warm and gooey PB & J

Don't know what it is about PB & J but when the world around me is not behaving as I think it should a PB & J on toast can be a marvelous attitude adjuster. It can't be just ANY peanut butter...oh no, it has to be PETER PAN PEANUT BUTTER and it has to be smooth, not crunchy. I'm not as fussy about my jelly but my favorite is Dickinson's seedless black raspberry or sometimes the strawberry...don't want my J too sweet as it would outshine the PB and that will not do. Dickinson's has just the right combination of tart and sweet, perfect. Ever tried your PB & J on toast? Oooooh, if you haven't then get up right now and get out your toaster. The warm toast makes the peanut butter all gooey and yummy. Sooo, I'm sitting here eating my favorite PB & J sandwich when ole MortMan jumps up on my lap and shows mild interest in my sandwich. I'm bored, I need entertainment soooo....I put a dab of peanut butter on each of his front feet. Why didn't I do this months ago! OH MY GOSH...I could sell tickets! Morty with peanut butter on his feet is waaay more entertaining than Dancing With The Stars!

P.S. Hmmm, OK....very funny, very entertaining but I have to go now and figure out how to get peanut butter off of my new lamp shade, comforter and carpet. Yeah...brilliant idea, I simply MUST do that again real soon.

Telethon

Anybody have Betty White or Tippi Hedron's phone number? I know Jerry Lewis is the TV telethoner of all time but he doesn't strike me as an animal lover and I figure I will have better luck with Tippi or Betty. Ginglebelle has been sneezing this past week and she finally convinced me that she really is sick. I took her to the vet and after blood work, x'rays, 2 IV's, oral antibiotics and 3 injections (that I am to give her at home) her vet bill was uncomfortably close to $800.00. GULP....that's almost two tanks of gas. OK, just kidding about the price of gas but that doesn't mean I'm laughing. Not only did Ginglebelle get to go to the vet but I had to come home and bring Morty in so he could get a shot because Ginglebelle is contagious. Personally, I suspect the vet has a boat payment due or perhaps she is counting on Ginglebelle to finance her families trip to Spain. In spite of all evidence to the contrary Morty does have a kind side. Yeah, yeah, yeah....I know and you will have to take my word as I have no visual proof. The vet told me to make Gingles a bed close to her food, water and litter box so when we finally got home I fixed her a pallet close to all of her kitty necessities and she instantly went to sleep. Don't feel bad, I thought the same thing but when I held a mirror under her nose it fogged so she really was just sleeping. Ole Mortman curled up next to Gingles and he fell asleep too . They were so cute all curled up together and he even put his little paw on her arm, if cats had arms. Of course when he woke up an hour or so later he used her as a short cut to to get to the food dish but at least we are making progress.

PediEgg Update

Let me tell you what ladies and gentlemen...the 8th wonder of the world is now available at your local department or drug store. If you read my first entry about the PediEgg you will remember I not only took all of the old skin off of my feet but I also managed to remove new skin and I think I saw bone on my left foot. After that educational experience I have learned to use the PediEgg properly (moderation is the key) and I plan to never ever be without one again! In fact I may buy extras. One to keep in the car and maybe one for my desk drawer. What? Grooming your feet at work is wrong? Well....maybe where you work it's wrong but at my place of employment it would considered high class. You have to remember that our company motto is "NOT ONLY IS SEXUAL HARASSMENT TOLERATED IT IS ENCOURAGED". So with all that sexual harassment going on I really don't think anybody would find a little "foot filin' offensive.

Dofus

Sometimes I'm such a dofus. I've always wondered if you have more than one dofus in a group...should the group be referred to as dofusses or should it be dofi? Anyway, I was shopping at CVS the other day and saw a new shampoo and conditioner that I had never tried, imagine that. In my quest for beauty I would have sworn I had tried every shampoo and conditioner on the market especially since I have been bleaching my hair for the past 39 years...no exaggeration. Heck, I figure L'oreal will be calling me anyday and make me their poster child. That is the least they can do since I have probably paid to put the entire board of directors children through Harvard. Soooo....anyway, I throw the shampoo and conditioner in my basket and head to the checkout with my 60 watt light bulb, shampoo and conditioner. The cashier and I are chatting and my total pops up on the little debit/credit gizmo. $62.48.....uhhhhhh, has to be a mistake. I laugh and say, "Wow...look at the total! That must be some REALLY expensive shampoo!" The cashier says, "Yep, when I was pricing it today I wondered what idiot would pay that much for shampoo."

Love me some fried chicken.

Once or twice a month I fry a chicken breast, make real mashed potatoes and a itty bitty bowl of milk gravy. That meal has to be my favorite and if I'm ever on death row that will be the last meal I request along with a seedless watermelon and maybe a Dairy Queen Reece's Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard. Oh yeah, definitely a Reece's Peanut Butter Cup Blizzard. Heck, if I'm on death row the size of my butt should be the least of my worries.

Debi & The Ferry

Does that title just sound like the sweetest story EVER??? Well, if you are looking for a sweet story I suggest you move on down the line because the only thing sweet about this story is the homemade cheesecake that enters the picture a bit further down the page. Funny yes, sweet no. Let's start at the beginning. Debi, Princess and I were having lunch before taking Debi to catch the 12:30 ferry back to THE REAL WORLD. Debi and I ordered our lunch but of course Princess had a SPECIAL order which means Debi and I had finished before Princess's lunch even arrived. I looked at the time and said, "If we leave right now, Debi can still catch the 12:30 ferry." Just as those words were out of my mouth Princess's freshly prepared by angels hands lunch arrived. I suggested that I take Debi to the ferry and then come back to get Princess but Princess was having no part of that plan. It seems Princess is not comfortable eating alone and proceeded to dispatch us (her semi-loyal servants) to buy her a newspaper (so she would have something to do), refresh her soft drink and oh yes...more napkins. Debi and I finish our chores and go tearing out of the parking lot (yes, I had my drivers license in my pocket) to the ferry. We arrive at the ferry landing and the lady at the ticket window says oh yes, we are in plenty of time for the next ferry and when we admire the cheesecake she is eating she went to the back and brought us each a piece homemade cheesecake topped with fresh strawberries. Wow...how nice is THAT! We are both stuffed to the gills and as good as the cheesecake looks there is no way we can eat it now and the idea of juggling luggage and a plate of cheesecake on the ferry is less than appealing so Debi suggested I take her cheesecake back for Princess. It's now 12:20, the ferry leaves at 12:30 and we both figure Princess has been alone about as long as she can tolerate so I gave Debi a hug and headed back to attend to Princess. About halfway back to retrieve Princess the sky opens up and it begins to thunder, lightning and pour buckets of rain for the next three hours. Princess and I go back to the house, get our books, afghans and prepare to read and nap the rest of the rainy afternoon. About 4pm Princess and I woke up and while still all warm & cozy with our afghans across our laps we flipped on Oprah and took our first bite of the BEST cheesecake ever tasted by mankind. It was right about then that my cell phone rang. It was Debi. She had just gotten to her car. She was also cold, soaking wet and more than a little pissy. Hmmm, if the ferry left at 12:30, Debi should have been in her car no later than 1:10 and back in Myrtle Beach by 2:30. Wellllll.....it seems there is no 12:30 ferry this time of year nor is there a 1:30 or 2:30 but there is one at 3:30! You are probably asking yourself why Debi didn't call us on my cell phone while she was waiting for three hours in the pouring down rain. There is a very good reason for that as her cell phone died that morning in the middle of making a call to check on lunch selections for Princess and Debi had left her charger in the car. She could have used the phone in the nice cheesecake sharing ferry lady's booth to call us on the house phone except she didn't remember the address of where we were staying or the name of the people who own the house. Debi did ask the nice cheesecake sharing ferry lady why the 12:30, 1:30 and 2:30 departures were still showing on the schedule when clearly no ferries were in sight. The nice cheesecake sharing ferry lady smiled real big and said, "Well, EVERYBODY knows this time of year we don't go by that schedule."

P.S. Princess said the cheesecake was excellent. Love ya Deb!

Fleeing From Justice

Well, we didn't EXACTLY flee as it's not easy to flee from the scene of a crime in a golf cart plus there wasn't really a crime. After breakfast Princess and I were out tooling around in the golf cart (Bald Head Island doesn't allow cars) and I might add we were minding our own business and for once we truly were not bothering anybody. Anyway, just as we came up to the ONLY major intersection on the entire island we saw a road block, of sorts. There were 2 golf carts, with flashing blue lights blocking the intersection. WOW! There were probably a total of 47 people on the entire island and we were going to get to watch somebody get taken DOWN! Not quite. The very polite policeman (who appeared to be all of 12, with a concave chest, little round shoulders and trying very very hard to grow a moustache...we could have snapped him like a pretzel) asked to see my drivers license. OH GREAT, when we left the house I had jammed enough cash for breakfast in my pocket but didn't pick up my drivers license. In a high quivering voice the very polite policeman reminded me that it was North Carolina law for the operators of golf carts to be a minimum of 16 years old and to have a drivers license in their possession. Princess and I are both trying very hard to keep a straight face because good Lord, who gets stopped by a made by Fisher-Price policeman on a deserted island.....uhhhh, us. So at that point Princess piped up and said, "Wow....good thing you had that 16th birthday yesterday." OK....my 16th birthday was in 1966 and I am thinking this is it, 12 years old or not our butts are on the way to jail and every shred of any dignity I ever had was gone. Fortunately the 12 year old policeman had a sense of humor and after one glance he KNEW my 16th birthday had been at least 35 years before he was born. We think he also figured out that he wanted NOTHING to do with us and in fact he seemed very happy to see us drive away. Imagine that.

Ever traveled with a PRINCESS??

Oh man oh man oh man...let me tell you how you know you are with a PRINCESS. This is a brief synopsis of our first evening. Two of us are downstairs (already dressed, ready to go) and PRINCESS is still in her room...doing only God knows what. Sooo it was about this time that the big restaurant debate begins and it goes a lot like this. We said, "Hey Princess...where would you like to go for dinner?" and Princess says, "Sigh...oh I don't care, you girls pick." Sounds simple...right? Yeah well, so we say, "How about the River Pilot House...they have these GREAT pork chops. " Princess announces, "I don't like pork chops." Sooo we point out that they also have steak or chicken and Princess announces that she wants lobster and filet. FINE....we will go to The Club and have surf and turf. Princess says, "The Club? Don't you have to dress up to go there?" We tell Princess no, but you can't wear shorts and t-shirts." It was at this point Princess announces that she doesn't want to change but what other restaurants are here. We remind Princess that we are on an ISLAND, a very small island and there are not a lot of choices. Princess wants to know if they have pizza and when we tell her yes they do have pizza but she wants to have it delivered and this time of year you have to have your order in by six to have pizza delivered. So we get in the golf cart and go to the pizza place. THE PIZZA PLACE HAS ALREADY CLOSED. Soooo....Princess then announces that we can take her to the grocery store where she will buy a frozen pizza, then we can take her back at the house and the "rest of us" can go out to dinner. Well...the "rest of us" look at each other and say, "Uhhh....no." We hauled our whiney, high maintenance Princess to the River Pilot House where the "rest of us" ordered the pork chops while Princess pouted and ordered a salad (plus made the waitress recite 32 different dressings before choosing Ranch) and She Crab Soup. The salad was OK, the soup was OK but of course not nearly as good as The Sea Captains House. WELL.....DUH, SHE CRAB SOUP HAS BEEN THE SPECIALITY AT THE SEA CAPTAIN'S HOUSE FOR 50 FLIPPIN' YEARS! We were raving about our pork chops, the fresh spinach and the mashed potatoes...OH MY GOD THE POTATOES when Princess announces she would like to try a bite of my pork chop. OK...I cut a nice chunk of pork chop for Princess to try and this is what Princess had to say, "OH this is really good, I wish I had ordered the pork chop." The loud thumping you heard was the "rest of us" pounding our heads against the wall.