Thursday, June 24, 2010

Things I Don't Understand!

No this isn't going to be a forever blog!  But there are some things that I just do not understand.  I don't know why that we as humans think that we have to understand something to except it at times.  We also think that if we are faced with an obstacle there must be something that can be done to help right?  So hear it goes--things that I don't understand!  #1.  Why they don't make dentures for horses.  I like horses.  I like to talk to them.  I like to pet the flat side of there face etc.  I just don't want to be on the back of one.  I was on a run-a-way horse when I was 10 years old and I made a promise to God that if he got me off that thing I wouldn't ever get on another one.  I have been tempted by others "to fall off the no horseback riding wagon" at times, but I haven't done it.  A veterinary friend of ours from church in Louisiana tried to get us to go horseback riding one Sunday afternoon.  I wasn't convinced of his argument that the horse was safe BEFORE he told me the horses name!  Pardon me, but when someone names their horse TROUBLE I am thinking I need to stay far away from it--maybe even the next county!  However, I once took my children to a farm that had a pumpkin patch in the fall and at this farm you could feed all sorts of baby animals.  The man who was our guide was riding a horse.  I asked how long horses lived out of curiosity.  His reply was "about 25 years or until they lose all of their teeth.  When they lose all of their teeth, they can no longer eat so they die."  He then proceeded to show me "old paint's mouth" and the poor horse had only about 4 teeth left inside.  Now if "old paint" only dies because he can't eat anymore then it seems to me someone should invent some false teeth for horses!  I realize that it may be a problem keeping them in his mouth, but he's a horse for goodness sake, use gorilla glue!  Then you could have one of those commercials for dentures with 2 horses eating out in the meadow and ask "which of these horses is wearing dentures?  I bet you can't tell."  I see those commercials about people all the time and if they would stay in a horses mouth when he can't fix his teeth himself, then if I had dentures I would certainly want to buy the brand that works for horses over the brand that just works for people!  #2.  Why they make packages of buns in lots of 8 and wienies come in packages of 10!  This is just plain stupid!  If I have a big cook-out, I have to actually do some math work in the grocery aisle on how to make the buns and wieners come out right at the end.  I like Math but it has never liked me.  I am telling you that life is too short to be worrying about your buns and wienies coming out right!  How many women have probably laid on their death beds and thought "I wish I had back all the time I wasted on trying to get buns and wienies to be even!  #3  Why my husband can't name one piece of clothing that I own to save his life, yet if I walk out of the room with a new outfit on he pounces on me like the Republicans on the Democrats over the national deficit!  If he doesn't know what I have, then how does he know when something is new!  He can smell a shopping trip better than a bloodhound on the trial of a convict!  #4.  Why if beauty is only skin deep that my wrinkles go clear to the bone!  In fact everything on my body apparently is trying to prove to this world on its very own that GRAVITY is alive and well in our universe.  No wonder old people stay in bed so much.  They are just exhausted from carrying around all that dragging flesh!  Things I don't understand #5 {you can relax, it's almost over!}  Why there are MEAN people in this world.  I'm not talking hormonal, crazy, irritable or just got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.  I'm talking MEAN! MEAN,MEAN, MEAN!  If Hester had to wear a scarlet letter on her breast for adultery in Puritan times, why can't we make mean people tattoo ORNERY or CANTANKEROUS on their forehead these days so the rest of us don't have to guess when we first meet someone if they are a STINKER or not.  If they are bald and exceptionally bad they should have to tattoo all three phrases just because they have room!  One of the first things a Southern woman teaches her babies is to "treat others as you won't to be treated."  I know that there are folks out there who didn't learn this lesson as a child.  Anyone who does something intentionally to someone else that he wouldn't want done to himself  fits in the mean category.  That is why I am a member of the website "Why test out products on animals when our high security prisons are full!"  Uh oh, since I condone the use of product testing on criminals, and I wouldn't want it done to myself, I guess that makes me mean.  Gotta work on that!

Monday, June 21, 2010

Organization!

Things are not always as they appear.  Take my home for instance.  I can't stand clutter so someone might enter my home thinking that I am a very organized person.  They would be highly mistaken! In fact when the kids were growing up all I had to do was just say I was going to get organized and my entire family would fall out in the floor laughing. It isn't that I haven't tried to be organized.  I have spent a great deal of my adult life checking out organization books from the library, making files, and having datebooks with appointments written down all neat and tidy.  More time has been spent however trying to find the library book on getting organized that I lost, forgetting my file system, and randomly marking info down on scratch pieces of paper instead of my datebook only to later say, "What is this piece of paper for?  I don't know.  I'll just trash it."  The worst problem I have with this is when the phone rings and I need to take a message.  Whatever is close by is what I write the info on.  Sometimes it's my palm and I forget that I have written on it until after I have washed my hands.  Other times it's the back of a magazine or on one of the pieces of mail that came that day.  Have you ever been called by some super efficient local government employee and asked if you needed the phone number marked real important on your part of the return payment stub? "Is there a name with that number ma'am?" There isn't because that would require me being too organized, so I just tell her no politely as I don't remember who the person was that called and left the real important number!  It has then become just useless scratching on a piece of paper like all the other useless scratchings that I have in my drawer under the phone.  I have a file system.  I got some of the prettiest little files that you have ever seen and have them all marked with pretty colored tabs in beautiful script handwriting.  Here's the problem with my filing system.  Ben-"Honey have you seen Benjamin's immunization records?"  Me-"Yeah, there in my file system."  Ben-"What do you think you filed it under?" Me-"B for Benjamin."  Ben-"It's not in the B's.  Where else could it be?"  Me-"Try the I's for Immunization."  Ben-"It's not in the I's." Me-"Try R for Records."  Ben- "It's not in the R's!" Me-"I bet I put it in the S's for shots."  Ben-"It's not in the S's!!!"  Me-"I'll come find it"  After I have torn up the entire file drawer, I find it in the K's---for KEEP {IMPORTANT.} My husband does not approve of my filing system!  He is one of those people that is so organized that he makes lists of lists to make!  I worked for him for awhile at his office.  He fired me once a week.  That wouldn't have been too bad except that I only worked for him once a week!  After this went on for about 3 months I decided that it might be better to let our daughter that is just like her dad work for him.  Apparently I'm not the only one in this world that thinks that my brain is logical although no one else does.  My sister is a nurse in Arkansas.  She was with Hospice and each nurse had their own cases that they handled.  "Renee" one of the other girls had to go on medical leave and the other nurses doled out her patients among each other.  They needed to go see Mr. Whatchamacallit and couldn't find his file.  After they spent 20 minutes all trying to guess what letter Renee could have filed it under they finally called her at home to ask her where the file was.  Renee said for them to check the F's.  My sister said, "Neither his first nor last name starts with an F so why would you file him in the F's? Renee said,"When I look at him I think that his eyes look like fishes so it's F for fish eyes!"  From that point on when they needed something in Renee's files they just called her up and asked her where it was.  There is just no use in trying to figure out someone like me and Renee's file system unless of course you think to look first in the last place on earth that you would look and if you looked there first then it wouldn't be the last place you would look then would it?  I mentioned at church one day that I woke up in a different world everyday.  A friend said, "That must be a lot of fun for you!"  I answered, "Yeah, but it's not so fun for those that live with me!  Just to show you how sweet my little hubby is instead of getting mad at my constant "blond moments" he just laughs and says that being married to me has NEVER been boring!

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Dumb Blondes!

I hate to say it but I have always been a dumb blond even before they were called that.  Today I had another blond moment.  My husband sent me to Tire Outfitters to have 4 new tires put on the van before we go on vacation.  We had ordered them at the same time our daughter and son-in-law ordered theirs.  I went into the place and told them that I had talked to them yesterday and they told me to come in this morning.  I gave them my name and they couldn't find it in the computer.  I mentioned ours were ordered with the Lynch's.  They checked the special orders and found nothing.  I mentioned that the Lynch's had theirs put on yesterday because I babysat the grandchildren during the time they were being done.  He checked the computer again and the special order book-nothing.  He called in 3 different sales people and asked if they had heard the name Montgomery.  They all said no.  When checking into the purchase orders they began to complain and scream about some Joe's handwriting and that they were probably  looking right at the order and couldn't read his writing.  A crowd of employees starts to gather and try to decipher Joe's handwriting.  "Could this possibly be it?" " I don't think so.  That doesn't have enough letters  in it to be Montgomery!"  Just as they are calling poor ole Joe and his "chicken scratching self" into the lobby "to let him have it about his handwriting"  I say something like "I'm sure my husband said Tire Outfitters."  "Tire Outfitters?  This isn't Tire Outfitters this is Tire Distributors!"  So then I have to further embarrass myself by asking that they tell me how to get to Tire Outfitter's.  I hope poor Joe didn't get it.  They were pretty hot under the collar when I left. By the way, while I was having my tires put on at TIRE OUTFITTERS, I was reading a women's magazine that was celebrating 125 years.  They had an old article from the 1800's about a special corset designed for "Fleshy Ladies."  So that's what they called plus size women back then.  How times have changed--from "fleshy ladies" to "all that junk in your trunk." Anyway, back to the dumb blond stuff, when I was a teenager my dad was letting me wash the car for money.  There was a new shirt I wanted downtown, and if we wanted extras we had to earn the money.  Daddy agreed to the price of the shirt only if "there wasn't one bug spot on the front of that grill!"  Bless his heart.  He probably could have had the car washed 3 times for the amount I needed for the shirt, but as I blogged before, daddy never said no when you asked something of him.  I go out and wash the car.  I scrub and scrub the whole thing until I am satisfied, but there are still spots on the grill.  "Daddy, I finished the car but there are spots on the grill that won't come off."  "Lisa, you're just going to have to use a little elbow grease."  After searching for 30 minutes in our storage building, I couldn't find one can that said Elbow Grease.  "If you want me to use Elbow Grease you're going to have to find it daddy!"  That's still my dad's favorite story about me.  One of these days when I get to Heaven I plan on asking the Lord what exactly it was that didn't develop properly in my brain when I was being formed.  By the way, I just used spell-check and found that I had misspelled blond {I had it spelled blonde} every single time in this post.  Somethings never change!

Friday, June 18, 2010

Growing up on Chestnut Street

Like many of you I have fond memories of growing up in a small town in the 1960's.  Our street that I lived on as a child was Chestnut St. in Magnolia, AR.  It was the equivalent of living at summer camp the whole year.  My dad once counted 26 kids that lived on the street!  Anytime you have that many kids you have a lot of fun.  Lacy lived down the street {or did she live at our house?}  Anyway, Lacy was always good for a laugh.  She could get anything that she wanted out of her maid named Polly.  It involved a simple plan.  We would all follow her to her house where she would be betting us all the way there that she could make Polly do anything that she wanted.  When we got there, Lacy would ask Polly for something so ridiculous that we would all snicker.  Polly would tell her there was no way she was gonna do that.  Lacy then would say, "If you don't, I'm gonna eat dog food!"  Polly would yell, "I don't care if you do eat dog food, I'm not gonna do that!"  Lacy would proceed to eat dog food and Polly would come running with what ever it was she wanted in the first place.  We would all die laughing and proceed to the yard to plan Polly's next entertainment for the neighborhood.  Little Jack was always doing something crazy!  "Little Jack had to go to the hospital again!"  This bit of info would spread from one house to the next like the flu.  "What happened this time?"  "He drank the gas out of the lawn mower with a straw!"  "Oh, I'm sure he'll be fine, he's done worse than that many times."  Stephanie lived across the street for a couple of years.  She was truly one of the prettiest little girls I ever knew.  She had some sort of medical problem though that always made her  smell like cheese!  I can't tell you how much of my adult life has been wasted trying to figure out how come she always smelled like cheese--cheddar to be exact!  If she had been rolled in pimento cheese  she couldn't have smelled more like it.  She was always clean.  She just smelled like cheese!  Even to this day after I visit my doctor sometimes I think, "Oh shoot, why didn't I ask him why Stephanie always smelled like cheese."  Every street has "the mean Man."  We actually had two.  One lived on the left side of us but we knew his name.  We also knew never to step on his grass!  The other man lived down the street {next to the cheese girl.}  I don't remember ever knowing his name.  He was just "the mean man" to all of us kids.  The Elliots lived at the other end, and they had 3 of the biggest dogs you've ever seen.  Apparently they had trained their dogs not to go to the bathroom in there own yard but to go to the neighbors.  I still to this day cannot possibly describe to you in terms that you will find believable the size of there "waste."  This act would set my mother off like no other!  On several occasions, I was sent down to their house to inform them that they were expected pronto down at our house with a shovel and a wheelbarrow "to get that cow patty"  out of our front yard!  Kids are attracted to things that shouldn't be stepped in.  If you have 3 acres with one cow patty, you can make sure that some kids playing outside are going to find that sucker and have it up to their necks within 5 minutes.  I don't know why my mother didn't just call their house and respectfully ask that they come clean up after their dog.  No, she had to send me down there embarrassed as I could be to inform them that mama wasn't happy and when mama ain't happy ain't nobody happy!  Several of us {I don't remember who all but I think that Lacy was involved} had a race once to see who could eat the most baked beans.  I won and quickly proceeded to the bathroom where I threw up whole beans up out of my nose.  Don't think that I was bulimic as a child or anything.  I was about 8 years old and I just wanted to win the race.  We had a teenager that drove the ice cream truck around the neighborhood almost everyday.  We would hear the music and all run inside to get money.  My search would always involve my father's white recliner.  Every time he sat in it his coins would spill out of his pockets and fall underneath.  My mother always wondered where I always came up with all my change.  By the time we ran back to the truck I was almost always last in line.  I don't remember this guys name but I can still see him to this day.  He had the worst case of acne that I have ever seen in my life!  Some of the kids called him "pizza face." Half the time by the time my turn came I wasn't hungry anymore and just turned around and walked off.  Why hasn't anyone ever come up with the "zit diet."  There has been every other kind of diet out there.  It's supper time right now and I just lost my appetite thinking of it!  Who needs a picture of a pig on the refrigerator--never worked for me.  But give me the ice cream man of my childhood and I could drop weight faster than the Elliot's dogs!

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

A visit to the Nut House!

Well it wasn't exactly a "nut house."  It WAS a big brick building full of NUTS!  I was one of said nuts.  Let me explain.  Several years ago I started having anxiety attacks out of the blue.  I went to a doctor that wasn't my regular physician and to make a long story short through a mistake on my chart I was put on a medicine for bipolar disorder.  I'm not bi-polar so this fact coupled with the fact that I had a very bad reaction to the medicine caused a severe problem.  My regular doctor said that I needed to go into the hospital for a few days as I came down off this medication.  Sounds like I was on LSD or something!  Anyway I envision myself laying in a hospital room, watching TV, reading magazines etc. while a friendly nurse occasionally stuck her head in the door and asked if I would "like some sweet tea hon."  I later found out that this is not how it is done anymore.  Because of cuts to the health care system and new regulations with insurance, everyone needing to be monitored from "bad med reactions" are all put in the same place--the nut house.  To make it short I was in there with everyone from crack addicts to those like me to bona fide no other word for it "nuts."  Now that it is over I can laugh at it--my family thought that it was freakin hilarious at the time!  Let me tell you about a typical day.  They search your bags to make sure there are no shoe laces or blow dryers {anything with cords} in case someone wants to kill themselves.  By the way I didn't when I went in there but after a couple of hours with those nuts........They came in every 15 minutes all night long and opened your door to see if you were in bed asleep.  I was in bed asleep until I was woken up every 15 minutes all night long being checked on to see if I was asleep!  Now for the cast of characters. This is the honest to goodness truth! There was the guy that thought he was a vampire.  I didn't have to deal with him much because he only came out at night.  There was the "head smeller."  This fine upstanding citizen had the social skills of Hannibal Lecter.  He went around smelling all of the women's heads then announcing, "that's a Prell head if I ever smelt one."  He was usually right!  He finally found a woman that he shouted as he sniffed her hair, "hey you use that shampoo that has the little kangaroo on it!  That's the kind my ex use to use."  I can't imagine why he has an EX!  Every once in awhile one of the nurses would yell out, "Robert, QUIT SMELLING HEADS!"  There was the woman that was faking suicidal thoughts "to teach her husband a lesson!"  Some of us normal women would sit at the round table and color pictures of Porky Pig with the words I WILL TAKE MY MEDS at the bottom of the page.  This beautiful southern woman told us that she had just retired after 25 years at her job and her husband keeps telling her that to continue to enjoy the style of living that she is accustomed to she needs to get out and get another job.  She said every time he brings it up she fakes a "I'm gonna commit suicide episode!"  She was there talking and cutting up with us and the next minute a nurse came over and asked her how she was and instantly she became "suicidal."  When the nurse left she would just laugh and say she'd teach her husband a lesson yet! Every time she got like this her doctor would put her in the hospital and it was costing her husband a fortune!  She figured he would eventually get the message that it was cheaper for her to stay retired. The worst part of this experience was that your family could only visit you for 30 minutes at night and only one at a time.  I found I actually BECOME crazy when I'm told I can't see my family when I want to see them.  Different family members would come into the main room and sit at the table with me as I pointed out my latest colored Porky Pig picture that had been hung on the wall with all the others like it was 1st grade art!  My family was getting a huge kick out of this! Thank goodness I only had to be there a day and a half! One thing I learned through this experience besides how genuinely sad mental illness can be is that there is always a bright side to everything.  I was wearing these adorable little red with white polka dot flats when I was there.  Everyone from the vampire {he probably just like the red} to the mumblers to the ones like me being observed because of a bad reaction to medication appreciates a cute pair of shoes!  Even those women that were really suicidal would come up to me and say, "those are just the cutest shoes I ever saw in my life.  My advise to you if you know someone that is going through a severe depression or having trouble emotionally is first and foremost to say a prayer for them-several prayers.  Just get down on your knees and stay there!  Then go out and buy them a really cute pair of shoes!

Scientists Think Too Much!

Women are nesters.  I really believe that God made us that way.  I've always wondered a little about a woman that doesn't like to fix up her home and have things nice for her family.  That having been said I think that scientists think too much!  In my Art History courses in college we studied cave man drawings as that is considered the first art of mankind.  There are all these theories behind the drawings.  Scientists say that was how they communicated with each other from different tribes as they spoke different languages.  They also think that they were commemorating an important event or history making episodes. Sort of like we would erect a statue at the sight of something we want to honor or remember. I think they have it all wrong.  I guarantee some cave woman was sitting around her "home" one day looking at the same old walls and decided she needed a change.  After she had her husband rearrange the rocks and leaf pallets about a hundred times and then she decided that she liked them better the way they were originally, she saw that big blank space on the wall above the rocks.  "It's just missing something; I'm not sure what."  Maybe if we had a big picture drawn on the wall that is full of life and pretty colors it would look better!"  She and her husband argued awhile over the fact that he thought the wall looked great just like it was.  Then he decided if he didn't put a picture up on the wall that he would never hear the end of it.  Men being the males that they are didn't think of a bowl of flowers or anything like that.  They had just been out hunting for food that day and started drawing the hunt and warriors.  When he was done the wife liked it so much she had him draw on other walls of the cave.  Next thing you knew her friends were coming over for morning "grog" and they were going home and telling their husbands that they just HAD to have a picture above the bed like their neighbor had and that was all there was to it.  Everyone started decorating their homes and the women just kept on finding more ways to beautify things.  "It's a little bare by the opening of the cave.  Couldn't we dig up some plants in the woods and kind of set them out around the front.  It would be so much more welcoming." Yep, scientists definitely think too much.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Bee-Keeping!

As I mentioned in earlier blogs, I have kind of been going through a mid-life crisis.  I am 49 years old-yes this is my true age {although I once remained 33 for 6 years!}  I've raised 3 great kids, had a career for a while and still don't think that I have accomplished anything in my life.  I guess that translates--I HAVEN"T BEEN ON OPRAH!  I have been looking for some sort of new interest.  I have a hobby that I dearly love {shopping}but since I am on a budget and that doesn't include a new pair of shoes every day, I'm searching for some new projects that don't involve as much money.  People don't feel sorry for you if you stand at a busy intersection with a sign that says, "SHOE FUND!" I don't know why, but you get absolutely NO compassion.  Now if I was driving down the street and saw a woman begging for money for new shoes, I would nearly wreck my car pulling over to help the poor thing out.  Even if I had to go without a meal or two myself you just can't turn your back on a poor "need a new shoe fix" girl!  Im looking for new excitement in my life.  I mentioned earlier that  I wanted to have some bees and hives here on our 5 acres.  I recently questioned this decision when I found out what honey is---BEE BARF!  Kind of makes it less exotic doesn't it?  I decided to do some googling to find out what I could about it.  I found lots of websites on beekeeping with some excellent advice.  Some of my favorites were to find a good beekeeper and do everything they do or find a bad beekeeper and do just the opposite of everything they do.  One person asked, "Will I have to worry about my bees swarming and stinging the neighbors?"  I was more inclined to ask if my bees could be trained to swarm and sting the neighbors!  Did I say that?  Seven generations of southern belles just rolled over in their graves!  I've also thought of volunteering at a local antebellum plantation for tours of the home and gardens.  The problem is I want to do it right.  When you go to Natchez, MS for the Spring pilgrimage, all the southern belles are dressed up in their 1800's finery.  That just adds to the atmosphere!  Far be it for me to suggest that these women around here strut around like Scarlett O'Hara when they're showing off the "ole plantation home."  They just seem to think that taking visitors from room to room in a historical house is fine and dandy wearing blue jeans and a tee shirt.  My husband said to just ask them if I could wear authentic looking attire as I strut.  I'm afraid that I might appear to be a tad eccentric.  I worry about that often--appearing to be a tad eccentric that is!  I always tell my husband that I was born at the wrong time.  I should have lived in the 1800's, strolled around the veranda in my gown, carrying a parasol, sipping a mint julep, and smelling the jasmine in the breeze.  My husband always brings me back to reality by saying, "they didn't have air conditioning in the 1800's!"  The Lord knew what he was doing after all, huh?  I thought of volunteering some time at the local animal shelter but my dear, sweet husband has absolutely vetoed this idea. He says that  bringing home a new dog every day that I felt sorry for is even more expensive in the long run than buying shoes!  I like to watch the food network channel and try new recipes but as you found out in an earlier blog {Italian Fish in the Dishwasher} my recipes hardly ever turn out like theirs.  I'm not saying I'm not a good cook.  I can take a mean dish to the church potluck and have others ask for the recipe just like anyone else.  It's just when I try to be a Martha Stewart that there is usually a problem.  Namely I've set my kitchen on fire twice.  Once I was heating grease to fry chicken, and I decided I wanted this wonderful salad with the meal.  I just left the grease on the stove and went to Kroger's.  When I came home I kept hearing this weird noise.  We had a new car and I thought that the warning sound was coming from it.  I sat out in the carport for five minutes pushing every button to try and turn the noise off.  I finally went to the kitchen door and realized that the "weird noise" was the fire alarm and my kitchen wall behind the stove was flaming out 3 feet.  I've told you I was ADD.  The next time I was cooking bones for my dogs in the broiler.  I swear I didn't know that dogs would eat raw bones!  Anyway, another grease fire!  Then there was the time that I saw Martha using parchment paper for baking cookies!  I thought that wax paper was the same thing and set the oven on fire.  Well that didn't really count because it wasn't a true fire.  I mean unless the fire department has responded, your floors have 3" of water on them, your nostrils are black and you have to spend the next 6 weeks at the Holiday Inn, I don't think that it should count.  Do you?

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Counterfeit Bills!

Monday evening we had a good old fashioned shrimp boil at our house for our future daughter-in-law Erin's birthday supper.  Shrimp, little red potatoes, onions, carrots and corn-on-the-cob.  That afternoon I ran by the bank to get some cash to put in her birthday card, but as usual I forgot to get the card!  I decided that I would fold the bill up into a fan shape and tie it to her fork at her place setting.  So I ask the teller for a single bill instead of it always being broken down into change.  We had a great supper with the whole family and everything went off without a hitch.  This in itself is a real accomplishment as I can manage to screw up even the simplest of tasks! Tuesday, all of us girls went over to Leesburg, VA to the outlet malls to shop til we dropped!  While all of the rest of us were in one store, Erin  goes into another store and tries to by some perfume.  She is told point blank after her bill is marked that it is counterfeit! She tells them it can't be counterfeit because her future mother-in-law gave her the money for her birthday!  The saleslady asks her if she is sure if she wants to marry into our family and has she seen the movie monster-in-law!  She returns and tells me what has happened.  OK, I like to play jokes on my family, so I assume that she is playing one on me.  She keeps telling me she is serious.  I keep saying she is kidding me.  I only believe her when she shows me the dear old president himself with his person all marked up {apparently the saleswoman didn't trust the marker to tell the truth with just one swipe and thought that she had to scribble it up like a four year old.}  We call my bank, tell them what happened, and they tell me to bring it into the bank when we get back into town.  My imagination begins running away with me on the way home.  I am afraid that the bank will not believe that this is the bill that they gave me. After all aren't tellers trained to be able to spot counterfeits.  My son who manages a department store told me that fake money even feels different, so they can spot them instantly when they are passed off as real.  They even have special training sessions on spotting counterfeits. I can just see me going back to my bank and them telling me that I didn't get THAT bill from them.  I imagine my little old parents in Arkansas going into their local post office and seeing their eldest daughter's mug shot hanging on the wall!  Then I absolutely loose it.  You know how I know that I have lost it?  Because, am I worried that I won't be able to get another bill?  No.  Am I worried that they will not believe I got it from them?  No.  All I can think about is that I have gained 10 lbs recently, need a haircut and have a bump on my chin and that is how I will look in my coast to coast mug shot of the blogging grandma from Virginia!  I also know that the horizontal striped outfit that I will be supplied by the federal government will only make me look wider and that black and white are not my colors!  I guess I could ask them if they have their felon suits in a pretty peach.  I asked by gynecologist that once.  When I was given a very unbecoming paper gown to wear, I asked if they didn't have it in a more flattering color.  I guess that you will say anything to make conversation when your feet are in stirrups!  Anyway, I returned the bill to the bank and was told  that it WAS NOT counterfeit.  That if it was fake it would have turned black instead of yellow and that the saleslady must have had the IQ of a cucumber.  I've heard that 10 % of the public are idiots.  I guess when you shop at a large mall you are bound to come in contact with one of them! 

Monday, June 7, 2010

Italian fish in the dishwasher!

O.K. I've admitted that I can't walk up stairs and chew gum at the same time.  I have another confession.  I am a Martha Stewart wanna be that usually turns out like Lucy Ricardo!  Case in point--the time I tried to make a foil fish package in the dishwasher!  I was watching one of the cooking shows several years ago on TV and they had the neatest idea.  You take a large piece of aluminum foil, drizzle the bottom with olive oil, lay your piece of fish on top, and season to your liking.  Then you top it off with chopped tomatoes, green onions, and a few more things that I can't remember because I have slept since then, and I wake up in a new world every morning!  Anyway, you pull the foil up and tighten to make a little pouch and place the packets on the top shelf of the dishwasher.  The phone rings.  "Yes, this is she," "I'm doing fine." "No thank you.  I'm not interested." It was probably one of those calls that ask you something so stupid that you consider for a while having your phone number changed so that no more stupid people can call and try to ask you stupid things!  I'm off the phone, I look up to the TV and see that I have missed the most important part of the recipe--what to do with this lovely fish packet after I have it made!  The lady on TV is taking her packet out of the dishwasher and opening up a perfectly cooked fish that is steaming as she opens the foil.  O.K. what did she do????????? Well I take a guess and place my gourmet fish on the top rack of the dishwasher.  I caught the part about ten minutes so I set the timer for 10 minutes and sit down to imagine my sweet husband opening up his fish at supper, looking at me, and saying "OH HONEY, YOU'VE MADE ANOTHER GOURMET MEAL--HOW DO YOU DO IT ALL!"  Yeah right!  After about 6 minutes, I begin to suspect a problem as there is a strong smell of fish and water is floating by my feet from the dishwasher.  I open the dishwasher as water pours out only to find that there is one packet of fish left on the top and I had  placed six in there.  I see immediately what has happened.  There is water standing in the bottom of the dishwasher.  Tiny pieces of fish and shredded foil are floating all in the water.  I begin to bail the water out in the sink only to find that there is shredded aluminum foil hung up and stopping up the drain of my dishwasher and backing up into my sink.  After I clean up this fiasco, I am thankful that there is one that has survived that I may serve my husband so that he will say, "Oh Honey, you've made another gourmet meal--how do you do it all!"  I open it up and am surprised to find what I can only describe as pureed fish baby food with a little red and green stuff in it.  Hey, hers didn't look like this!  I taste it just as my husband walks in from work.  "What's that?"  "Oh, it's nothing--we're going out tonight for supper."  "What do you mean we're going out for supper?  I smell fish."  "Well there was a little problem-I'm not sure what- but anyway we are going out for supper."  Now my husband is a tightwad.  He can't stand to waste money.  He also has to keep a very tight reign on my money spending.  I am on an allowance!  Every once in a while when I am spending more than I should or asking for my allowance early before the time for my next allowance comes, I get the LOOK.  I can't describe the LOOK but I can tell you what the LOOK means.  It means "Dear, I am afraid that you are mistaken.  You seem to think that your last name is Rockefeller instead of Montgomery!"  He tells me he is not buying good salmon only to have us chunk it in the trash {we can't put in down the disposal because that is stopped up with fish and aluminum foil} and go out to eat.  "OK, but you've been warned, I wouldn't eat it" I say.  He takes a bite and is absolutely speechless for about two minutes as he is trying to get the taste out of his mouth! I didn't know that his face could contort into so many different positions! "Lisa, what did you do to this fish?"  "I cooked it in the dishwasher." "Whatever gave you that hair-brained idea?"  "I saw it on a cooking show."  "Did their fish turn out like this?"  "Well, no there's was in perfectly steamed little packets that they said was delicious."  "So what happened?" "Well I was making the fish and the telephone rang........"  "Oh no, and you got distracted and didn't see how to finish the fish?"  "Yeah, that's about it."  "Lisa, you didn't run this fish through the whole dishwasher cycle did you?"  "Well yeah, I pushed the wash button."  "Lisa, why does the fish taste like soap?"  "Well I think that I was just in a habit of putting the soap in the dishwasher so I must have added soap too."  To make another long story short even my husband was glad to take me out to eat that evening instead of eating "my gourmet fish." We searched the Internet for that mornings show and found that you were suppose to run the fish through the dry cycle only which is about 10 minutes. By the way, if you ever have fish floating in your dishwasher here's your Martha Stewart tip for getting the smell out.  Run bleach, lemon juice and anything else you can find through the cycle until the odor is gone.  It can take up to 6 washings--I know mine did!

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Hot Flashes!

Ah, the joy of hot flashes! Actually I am quite lucky. The doctor put my husband on a medicine a while back in which he had hot flashes as a side effect. He was like "I don't know how you women deal with these! I'm getting off this medicine; I don't care how much I may need it." Now he is the very epitome of compassion when I start moaning and sweating like a pig. If only they could come up with a medicine for men that causes temporary labor pains all the females I know would be happy! I once embarressed my daughter at a Wal-Mart Super Center when I had a particularly long hot flash! Not that it takes much to embarress a teenager. You pretty much do it just by getting out of bed in the morning! Anyway, I was strolling down the frozen food aisle when Oh, Oh, I started filling up with boiling water! Right there in front of my eyes was the most glorious sight I have ever beheld. It seems they had a sale on Totino's pizza and the whole freezer shelf was empty! I just very nonchalantly walked over, opened up that big freezer door, bent over from my waist, and stuck my entire upper body on that shelf! Warning: this can cause a buggy jam and some uncalled for comments. "Did that lady just faint?" "No she's conscious. See, she's licking the ice build up off the metal rack." "Make that WAS licking the ice build up off the rack, now her tongue is stuck!" "Should we call 911?" "Naw, she doesn't appear to be in distress. In fact she looks down right blissful!" From a teenager, "Man, If my mom ever did something like that I'd absolutely die!" From MY teenager " Yea, me too! Who's mom is that anyway?" Actually my child was over in the bakery section but when I walked up with frost in my eyebrows she suspected something, and I had to come clean. "Gee mom, that was not cool. Why do you always have to be so over the top! Can't you use a little discretion when you're out in public?" "Oh, sorry I won't ever do it again dear." Several weeks later I was back at the Super Center buying groceries again when guess what? Yep, another hot flash! Remembering my child's mortified look on her face, I skipped the pizza section and went straight to the frozen juice cans. Get the largest frozen juice can you can see and just roll that puppy all over your entire face. I did the rest of my shopping with that juice can on my forehead. Now that's what I call discreet. You can also rub it over any exposed skin on your body, but just be careful how much you expose! You don't want to act tacky in Wal-Mart! I keep a large can of frozen juice in my freezer at home all the time now. It's my new best friend!

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Seneca Rock and Dolly Sods

Well we are back from our yearly Memorial Day roughing it camping trip and I'm only slightly hairier to show for it. I couldn't wait to get in my big jacuzzi bath when I got home and put that weekend behind me! My idea of roughing it is a 1980's Holiday Inn. Before we could go I had to go shopping for some new clothes. I realized that I didn't have one thing in my closet that fit the "I don't give a rip how I look" look so I had to go buy some. Seneca Rock is a beautiful area with bluffs, rocks, mountains and the river. But let me tell you do not go up to see Dolly Sods! Dolly Sods is the equivalent of telling your children that you are taking them to Disney World and instead putting a couple of quarters in a lame horse in front of Cost-Co! Not that riding the merry-go-round horses aren't enjoyable-I still like them myself from time to time. But after being told your going to Disney World----I think you get my drift. It was so awful that I came home and googled it. Let me tell you, I don't know where the pictures on the Internet came from but it wasn't the Dolley Sods we saw! It is 4 miles straight up, 8 miles across, and then 4 miles straight down. Sixteen miles and we were gone for 2 1/2 hours! The road is so bad {gravel, pot-holed, steep and narrow} that the whole family kept thinking this can't be the road. We must be lost. This is a national tourist attraction after all! All we could think of was the movie RAT RACE where the guys stop and ask the lady for directions. When they refuse to buy one of her goods she is peddling, she gives them directions on a "fall off the cliff road" in which they see the signs along the road saying YOU........SHOULD.........HAVE............BOUGHT.............A..........SQUIRREL! After climbing at 2 miles an hour {I think we could have hiked it faster] swerving everywhere to avoid crater size holes and looking over the edge of a mountain with a drop off like you have never seen before we finally arrived on top. We expected a beautiful view but there was nothing! We pulled into a look-out point only to find that you couldn't see anything because of the over growth. There were a couple of nice rocks you stand on looking at the nothing view though. We met a local couple up there who I suspect had gone there to "park." They thought it would be private because knowing what was up there who in their right mind would go there huh? We asked if the whole 8 miles looked like this portion. He very honestly said that it only got a little better up the road. We then asked about getting down off the mountain. He proceeded to tell us using the expression "when you fall off the mountain." Please I said, "We've just spent the last 45 minutes holding onto our seats in a white knuckled death grip, don't say "when you fall off the mountain!" He laughed and said that when we got to the bottom we were just a "spit"away from our campsite. Now we lived in Louisiana for 16 years. I am familiar with states particular quirks. In Louisiana you don't have counties you have parishes. But imagine my surprise when I found out that the state of West Virginia or at least this portion has done away with feet, yards, and miles and is now measuring in "spits." There is a site on the net where you can rate Dolly Sods. Here are some of the comments. "I thought that there would be more to it" and my favorite, "I tore up all four tires on my sedan seeing this national treasure!" Us girls did have a little excitement back at the campsite on the day the guys went golfing. { Am I the only one here who sees the irony in my family making fun of me for not liking to rough it and the men going off for a day of golf on one of West Virginia's most beautiful courses?} Anyway, we arrive back at camp only to find we had a snake in our area right where the grand-kids had been playing for a good portion of the morning. In fact, we can't get my grand-daughter out of the van for the snake! I keep my eye on the snake while Jenny our oldest daughter goes and finds a weapon. I am hear to tell you that when your in "mama bear syndrome"mode you can kill a snake with a spatula! For those of you that don't know what mama bear syndrome is just try getting in between her and her cub. There will be nothing left of you but DNA! We saved the snake to ask the guys what kind it was. We thought it was a rattlesnake-they said it didn't have diamonds. We said that was only because it hadn't developed its diamonds yet. We began to get a little freaked out that there were snakes in our tents and in our sleeping bags etc. In fact by the time the guys got back from golfing we had pretty much convinced ourselves that every snake on the Eastern seaboard was "vacationing" there at our campsite. The guys got back and managed to talk us out of our frenzy just as we were ready to pack up and get out of there! My favorite part of the trip? When we went to Olive Garden when we got back home!