Monday, June 30, 2008

Whiskey Barrels



My mom drinks so much whiskey that she has it shipped over from the distillery in these cool barrels. Just kidding, Saint Wanda!
She really doesn't drink whiskey but she did buy me this cool whiskey barrel from one of the distillers.
She's making hers into some kind of rain catcher to water her flowers. I'm just gonna stick mine out between these trees cause I think it looks kinda cool...and so when the neighbors or my friends ask me about it, I can tell them my mom's a drunk! HA!
I know, Mom, it's not funny.

Insomniac



Sweet Ella has not slept more than 20 nights her whole life. The kid just won't sleep. She's my little insomniac.
The first 14 months of her life, she was up approximately six times a night sucking on a bottle...and the pediatrician wondered why she weighed 30 lbs? I would have given the kid a bottle of Pepsi if she'd slept.
We tried it all. Cereal in the bottle. Late night feedings. Reflux medicine. Warm milk. Noise machines. Classical music.
At 14 months, we finally caved and tried the Ferber method. It was harsh for four nights. But for the next four months, she slept like a dream. Wonderful, peaceful sleep. Our prayers had been answered.
Then it returned with a vengeance. It started at first with the whining...then crying....then in a couple of days...flat out wailing and flogging. It's horrendous. Tonight it lasted for 2 hours. Then she's up at least once during the night for juice.
I can't take this much longer. I'm old and my nerves are frazzled. Why has she started not sleeping again? What can I do to stop the tantrums?
I know I am being paid back for some bad juju...so all you haters out there, keep laughing. Just remember, what comes around, goes around.
If any of you have any suggestions besides duct tape, please let me know. I'm desperate, brain dead, and sleepy.

Fountain...What We're We Thinking?





OK. So, as most of you know by now, we spent most of the day yesterday searching for a fountain. Well, as you can see it will not fit in the area above so now the project got much bigger. It also is gonna take much longer cause the concrete is bare and it needs to be stained and sealed...and from what I hear this is a long, detailed process.
I know this doesn't sound like a big deal to most of you but it ain't like we've got nothing else going on. I work. My husband has a high level stressful job. We have two energetic (i.e. hyper) kids. We are smack dab in the middle of building a new office. We've got some rental property that one stupid tenant decided not to pay rent for three months and when we got pissed off about it and told them to get out...they decided to punch holes in the walls, destroy the carpet, and spray paint the brick. Yeah, we're slum lords.
So, that place has to be gutted and redone. Which would be no big deal if we could afford to hire it all done...but we do the work ourselves for the most part. Yes ladies...I can swing a hammer.
Then there's farm work that needs to be done. And to top it all off, I've decided to get a whole batch of baby chicks. What the?
We like chaos around here. The more projects we have going on the better.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Smarty Pants



Rico Sauve is Mr. SmartyPants. He's really smart but I don't tell him too often cause it goes to his head. He knows all kinds of useless smart stuff like how much a gallon of milk weighs and Pythagorean's theorem. He was in the gifted program at school and went to the National Problem Solving Championship in middle school. Code for riding the short bus.
All this smart stuff makes him look important at the mall when he can undo the horseshoe puzzle...you know, the two horseshoes joined together with a chain and a ring? Well, Mr. SmartyPants can solve it much to the delight of the little old ladies in the store. They all swoon and fuss over him and he eats it up.
My husband...he can do a little dance in his little smarty pants.

Don't Touch David or His Parts



Every time I decide to begin a weekend project, it starts out as one thing and ends up being something totally different. I decided to change a little landscaping...so I called up Cole Clark from Cole's Landscaping to get some ideas on some plants. He gave me some great ideas and I bought some plants to redo the area outside my side porch.
This morning I decided to get started planting these new plants. I asked my husband to help me reshape the area cause it's a little asymmetrical and it's bugged me ever since we first landscaped it. Well, while we are reshaping it and placing the new plants where we want them, my husband thought it would be a good idea to put in one of those fountains. Great idea, I say. So, we pack up the kiddos and off to Lowe's we go.
They have fountains there...but they're not manly enough. We need a huge, manly fountain, my husband says. You know, one of those massive concrete things.
We arrive at the concrete place and are greeted by this man, I'll call him "Stoner" if you know what I mean. He had every type of concrete object you could imagine...alligators, grim reapers, urns, benches, dogs, Michelangelo's Statue of David and big roosters. Ding Dang Ya'll, you know I got excited about the big rooster and wanted to take a picture. So I asked Mr. Stoner Dude if I could take a picture of his big rooster and he said, "Yes, you sure can...I'll even let you take a picture of David as long as you promise not to touch his parts...everyone's always wanting to touch his parts."
Only in Kentucky...

Friday, June 27, 2008

Secret Agent Man...a.k.a. Rooster




This is Secret Agent Man, Farm Chick's husband. He's the one that I ordered all thirty of those chickens for. Well, they're here...and he doesn't think I'm too funny. I think I'm hilarious.
Thirty funky chickens arrived at his house this week and the hatchery threw in five roosters for the hell of it. All the hens have big plumes on their heads. They are so funny looking.
Farm Chick is now the expert on chicken raisin' so she is keeping them for the first week for me. I'm gonna attempt to keep them alive from then on. Since I have never been around a chicken before other than in the meat department at the local grocery store and Lee's Famous Recipe, this is gonna be a learning experience. I will be sure to keep you'll informed cause it'll be very entertaining.

My Two New Favorite Things



Yesterday, my hubby and I got to spend the whole day alone together in the big city. We got to goof off and do silly things like get massages from those Chinese dudes at the mall kiosk. I don't recommend these...they're not very relaxing. Those little suckers are strong and will almost kill you with their little hands. We both were moaning and groaning...and not in a good way. I kept telling this dude that he was hurting me. He would say, "You hurt?" and then proceed to rub and pull harder. Honestly, I took a Loratab when I got finished.
After the torture treatment, we did a little shopping. I found these fabulous hoochie mama heels at a little store called Bakers. I don't know how often I'm gonna get to wear them...it's not like I'm clubbin' much these days...but I'm saving them just in case.
I also got this product from Sephora called Fresh High Noon Freshface Glow. I had previously gotten a sample of it there and fell in love. It's a very lightweight tinted moisturizer that is perfect to wear on those days you really don't want to wear makeup to the grocery store but if don't wear something you will scare the bejesus out of everyone. It gives your face just the right amount of coverage and makes you look all dewy and fresh. And anything that makes me look dewy and fresh I will buy by the gallon.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Puppy Love



Ella loves Tuffy...or as she calls him "Duddy." Tuffy is kind of indifferent to Ella unless she has food then they are fast friends.
For those of you who don't know, Tuff is a little "Jack McFarland", if you get my drift. I mean, the dog enjoys taking a bath with pumpkin shampoo from the Bath & Body store. A normal heterosexual dog would immediately roll in a cow pie after having a bath in such a fragrance...but not "Duddy." He goes out and smells the roses.
Here in this picture, Ella is loving on Tuff and he's all like "Don't mess my freshly coiffed pumpkin hairdo."

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Happy Camper


You see this sweet little face? This it right before she left for church camp on Sunday. As I was looking through the lens of the camera, I thought I saw some apprehension, some dread in leaving momma.
Well, I was wrong. Not only did she leave without a wave goodbye, I haven't heard from her all week. Not ONE word.
It's the beginning of the end. She's growing up.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Cookies and Cream Fudge



My husband called me the other morning and said, "You gotta call Ms. Bonnie (Ella's babysitter), she made this fudge stuff with Oreo cookies and it was good...real good."
Now, Ms. Bonnie has never made anything that tasted bad so I called her up and begged for the recipe.
Well people, Rico Sauve was right. It's good...real good.
I'd like to take credit for this recipe, but it's Ms. Bonnie's. ALL HAIL MS. BONNIE for this FAT-FREE fudge recipe. A girl can dream can't she?


Cookie and Cream Fudge

18 oz. white chocolate chips (1 1/2 pkgs.)
1 can sweet condensed milk
1/8 tsp. salt
20 Oreo cookies-crushed

In a heavy saucepan on low heat, add condensed milk and white chocolate chips. Heat until melted. Dump in cookies.
Pour into 8 inch pan lined with aluminum foil and refrigerate at least 2 hours.
Remove from refrigerator and dump out of pan. Slice into squares. Store at room temperature.

12 Step Program







I don't get on Ebay very often, for good reason. I start out just browsing glassware and antiques. You know, just window shopping.
Then I start thinkin'. Which in my case is never a good idea.
So, I was thinkin' about the bridal shower Farm Chick and I are having for one of our friends later on this summer. Wouldn't it be a great idea to do several homemade cakes instead of the regular sheet cake thing. Beautiful, towering sweet concoctions on magnificent antique cake stands. Fabulous idea, I tell myself.
Well, here's the problem. I don't have that many cake stands of my own and it would be rude to borrow them...so I rationalize buying FOUR as of this minute...and maybe three more.
Ebay makes it so easy to get caught up in the bidding war. I want it...they want it...who wants it more???? Those of you who know me personally know I'm gonna get it...I can't stand not to.
Rico Sauve asked me what I was doing a second ago. I told him paying for some stuff on Paypal...you know the cake STAND I was talking about. I'll break the other three or five of them to him gently...like after he buys a new scope or rifle.
If that doesn't work, I'll be finding a 12 step program. Ya'll pray for me!

Monday, June 23, 2008

Things That Get on My Nerves #1-10


Number #1
Every morning as I go to work, I get behind a slowpoke. EVERY SINGLE MORNING. I think they sit and wait for me, using CB radios to signal each other to pull out in front of me.
I swear, I can be 100 feet away, when a rusty old Impala with no muffler will pull out. They won't even look..they just pull out at neck breaking speed and then cruise to town at 30 miles per hour.
I don't know where all these people go...cause it certainly isn't to work...they'd never get there. Do they just congregate in town all day and wait for me to come back home so they can slow me down again?

Number #2
The toilet seat being up in the middle of the night. Ladies, we've all been there. Stumbling in the dark, keeping our eyes closed so we don't fully wake up. Going to the bathroom to pee 'cause we just can't hold it any longer even though we don't want to leave our warm spot in the bed. You finally get there without stumping your toe and you sit down and fall your ass in the toilet. Makes me mad just thinking about it.

Number #3
Next is getting the wrong order at the fast food drive thru. But the kicker to the situation is you don't realize it until you are already back at work. This happens to me on a fairly regular basis. I know the fast food industry employees work hard and I don't want to take their place. I work hard too. I'm a nurse and I always make sure I have the right medicine in the syringe before I give you a shot...I would appreciate it if you would make sure my burger is correct before you put it in the bag. Thanks.

Number #4
People who crowd me while in line anywhere. You know how it is. You go someplace and have to stand in line forever...and there's always one or two people that get right up behind you breathing on your neck like that extra two inches they're gaining in line is gonna make that much of a difference. If you're that desperate to get ahead of the line, cut in front of me...but just know I'm gonna breathe down your neck and get all in your personal space so you know how it feels.

Number #5
Leaving the water in the bathtub. We have one those fancy smancy garden jacuzzi tubs. The kids use it for their bathtub..but every now and then I like to clean out all the barbie dolls and toys and relax. The tub takes forever to fill up and forever to drain. The drain is probably filled with a big wad of barbie hair and paper labels from shampoo bottles. So on the occasion when I'd like a little soak, it never fails the tub is full of COLD dirty water. I then have to wait 20 minutes for it to drain and the next 10 for the fill...by this time I am too sleepy listening to the water to take a bath.

Number #6
Dirty cold sink water. You know when you soak that casserole dish that's burnt with all kinds of funk? You then place it in your sink to soak 'cause you really don't want to fool with it today...maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow comes and you have to put your hand in that cold, nasty water to pull the drain. YUCK! YUCK! YUCK!

Number #7
Eyebrow waxing by my sadistic hairdresser. I love her to death. She's done my hair for a hundred years. We've shared everything but men and I'd give her a kidney if she needed it. It's just that she enjoys inflicting pain and calling me names when she waxes my eyebrows. It hurts. I would rather have natural childbirth. The only thing worse would be getting my woo-hoo waxed and that ain't gonna happen.

Number #8
My bread getting smashed at the grocery. Why do they do this? Is it a sick game of how many loaves they can ruin in a day? Or do they know that it makes me mad enough to chew nails? Bread is your friend...don't smash it.

Number #9
Customer Service lines with no humans. No, I don't want to push #5 to hear my options in Spanish. I'm American, we speak English. And don't outsource to India, no one understands them. I have nothing against the Indians. I'm glad they're making a decent living...but speak clearly. And don't tell me not to get mad when you don't understand me. All I want is one polite English speaking person to answer the phone and answer my question. Is that too hard?

Number #10
Automated telemarketing calls. I hate when the phone rings at dinner time and you answer it and there is a message that says, "Please hold for an operator." I don't want to hold on...I didn't call you and I don't want to hear your crap about me winning a free Las Vegas vacation for the low price of $99. Nothing but the clap cost $99 in Vegas. Next time you call me, I'm just gonna start screaming and yelling in Indian.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

I'm a Big Girl Too!




Farm Chick and her brood went with us to Maker's Mark this weekend. Ella thinks she is just as big as Toot's and followed her around all day...holding her hand...touching her hair...giving her kisses. She thinks Toots is the bomb.
I caught the two of them sitting on the front steps of the distillery in their own little world.
By the way, check out Farm Chicks blog, www.itsasmalltownlife.blogspot.com, the pictures are great.

Ray Ray the Camper



Ray Ray has left for church camp. I have known for a couple weeks that she was going...but a part of me doubted she would go. Rachel has always been a little clingy with me. Other than going to her Dad's and staying with Nana, she stays at home with us.
She called me from her Dad's Saturday night and said she just didn't think she could go...her voice quivering and on the verge of tears. I told her no big deal. She could go if she wanted or she could stay home...her decision.
Well, today she came home and wanted to know if I had packed all her stuff. She was ready to go. Off we go to the church to meet everyone else....I'm just waiting for the tears to fall and her to cling to me and come home.
But to my surprise, the only tears that fell were mine. I cried like a baby when she got in that van...with all those other kids and left with nary a wave.
It's over now. My baby has crossed that milestone. She doesn't need me that much anymore. I thought I would be happy to see her reach this day...but a part of me is so sad. My baby is growing up.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Kentucky Bourbon at it's Best



Kentucky is well known for several things...The Derby, our beautiful bluegrass, Ft. Knox, and bourbon. We are proud to claim home to the Maker's Mark distillery.
Maker's Mark bourbon is not the same as whiskey. For those of you who don't know the difference, whiskey has a minimum of 80% corn whereas bourbon can never exceed 79%. Whiskey can be aged in new or used barrels but bourbon has to age in once only charred oak barrels.
Maker's Mark is one of the few remaining distillers that propagates it's own yeast for fermentation with cultures that trace back to the pre-prohibition era. It also is the only bourbon distillery to use pure, iron-free limestone spring water exclusively, not city, well or river water. Their water source is a 10 acre limestone spring fed lake on the distillery grounds.
We live about 45 minutes from the Maker's Mark distillery and yet this was our first but not last visit. The grounds were beautiful and the tour interesting.
At the end of the tour, you may taste the bourbon if you choose (and we did) and purchase and dip your own bottle. Maker's Mark is known for it's wax seal with the wax tendrils dripping down the side. We dipped our bottle but it was alot harder than it looked. My wax kinda ran down too far.
So for all you bourbon lovers, if you pass through our beautiful state....you should definitely plan on a stop in Loretto, Kentucky for the Maker's Mark tour.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Fruitcakes at the Fair

video

See this guy in the video? This is one of the fruitcakes running the rides at the local fair. Ray-Ray even noticed he was a little nutty and asked, "What has he been smoking?"
Needless to say, I didn't let my kids ride this ride.

Jealous?



See what I got for Rico Sauve's car?

The Perfect Southern Biscuit




I have been in mourning ever since Ginger over at DeepFriedKudzu informed me that White Lily Flour is leaving Knoxville and moving north. How can the greatest asset of southern cooks move...and up north at that? No offense to my northern friends...but some things will always be southern...sweet tea, magnolia trees, pecan pie and White Lily flour.
So, as an adieu to White Lily leaving...I am treating you all to the perfect southern biscuit. It never fails. My mother-in-law told me my biscuits were better than hers after trying them...so the must be pretty good.
You can eliminate the gingerbread biscuit...Farm Chick and I were just having fun.

The Perfect Southern Biscuit (a.k.a Angel Biscuits)

2 cups White Lily self rising flour (no substitutions)
1/2 pint of whipping cream

Mix and roll out on floured surface. Using a biscuit cutter, cut biscuits without twisting. Twisting the biscuits prevents them from rising properly. Bake on a cooking stone for 13-15 minutes or until done at 450 degrees.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Running in Heels...



Everyone that knows me knows that I have the uncanny talent to run in heels. I am very adept at walking in stiletto's and could run a 5K in Jimmy Choo's.
I joke to my friends that if I had to homeschool my kids the only thing they would be proficient in would be running in heels and makeup application.
I've started both my girls out with heels at a very young age...starting with those plastic heels from the Dollar Store and working up to my slingbacks. It's very important to walk like a lady in even the most trashy shoe. You can be the first female president of the United States but if you trip over your heels on your way to the inaugural podium...your just gonna look like a ding dong.
So here's to all the woman who can rock a pair of heels...for those of you who can't...give me a call for lessons.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

You Might be Gay If...


Ella hasn't been sleeping well lately. Every night about an hour after we turn our TV off, she wakes up. We think that the quietness of the house is waking her up...I know that sounds crazy.
So tonight Todd decides to go to Wal-mart and find one of those nature CD's of rainfall or waves crashing on the shore to play in her room. Maybe a little noise would keep her sleeping tightly.
Off he goes to the Wally World and looks for that display we've seen a hundred times. You know, the one with all the weird CD's you can sample? Rachel always goes straight to it and puts on the conga.
He looks and looks and can't find it. Finally he tracks down an employee and ask them. They tell him that they'd never had anything like that before. Discouraged, he sets off again to look over by the greeting cards on the other side of the store.
Halfway over to the card aisle he hears on the intercom, "Will the man looking for the ocean CD please return to the candle aisle."
My husband...in touch with his feminine side. HA!

Mimi's Addictions


Mimi has two addictions. The first is her grandkids. She loves her grandkids with such a passion. She spoils them rotten and caters to their every need. My kids would gladly move in with her if I let them. I thought Ella's first word was Momma...but I think she was actually saying Mimi.
Mimi's second addiction is Wal-mart. She is the reason Sam Walton became a billionaire. If she stops going to Wal-mart, the economy will spiral out of control.
My husband decided this weekend that when it's Mimi's time to meet her maker, he's gonna sprinkle her ashes all over our local Wal-mart. She can shop for eternity!

I Killed Our Love Fern!



When spring arrives, I can't wait to get hanging baskets for my front porch. We have a large front porch and I usually put up seven to eight hanging baskets...ferns and wave petunias. They're beautiful...for awhile.
Then the new starts wearing off and I get busy with other things...like yard work and taking care of kids. Little by little...I forget to water them. My husband actually built me a watering system...all I have to do is turn it on. But sooner or later, I kill the love ferns.
I really should go ahead and take them down. They look so pathetic.
I guess I'm off to Lowe's to buy more love ferns.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Fresh Peach Pie



Farm Chick came out Sunday afternoon to do a little cookin' and a little chattin'. She needed an afternoon away from the kids cause Secret Agent Man (a.k.a. Rooster) is going out of town next week on important secret business. He's a big shot like that.
Anyway, we got to cooking, laughing and talking. We covered all kinds of topics... lactose intolerance, my stinky oven, ways to win the lotto...you name it, we talked about it.
This peach pie is good. Real good. I would've showed you a picture of the finished product...but I ate it before I thought about it. Sorry. Just picture it in your mind.

Fresh Peach Pie

1 large container of Cool Whip
1 can Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk
1/3 cup lemon juice
5 peaches-sliced
1 cup of sugar
2 graham cracker pie shells

In a bowl place sliced peaches with sugar. Stir and let set for 15 minutes til sugar dissolves.
In another bowl, mix lemon juice, milk and cool whip. Drain peaches and fold in Cool Whip mixture. Place into graham cracker pie shells and refrigerate.

Rico Sauve



This is Rico Suave. He's trying to impress me and get me in bed.
Here he is doing his "Sexy Time" pose.
Gets me every time...

You Can't Pick Your Family



I've always heard it said, "You can pick your seat...you can pick your nose...but you can't pick your relatives." In this family, we celebrate our heritage...the good, bad and the ugly.
Ella Carrington is named after one of her great grandfathers many years back. Carrington Simpson has been remembered in Green County history as the supposed illigitmate son of Judge Carrington from Virginia as well as committing one of the most horrendous murders this area has ever witnessed.
In July of 1838, Carrington Simpson and two other men murdered Lucinda White, her sons John and Lewis, Lewis's wife Matilda and their baby William. They were bludgened to death and placed in a old outhouse and covered with a dead horse to disguise the smell of rotting flesh. Their motive was money and property.
Carrington Simpson was hung on September 21, 1841 in the community we live. The headstone is surrounded with a simple white gate and sits out in the middle of a pasture.
Simpson's story has become a prominent part of history in this area. It has been featured in William B. Allen's "History of Kentucky" as well as "History Among Us" by Lanny Tucker.
When I was pregnant with Ella, we wanted names to reflect both sides of our families. The name Ella is after Todd's paternal grandmother and my paternal great-grandmother. I couldn't bypass the name Carrington. For one thing, it's a beautiful name. Second, the story is fabulous. You can't make that stuff up.
Can you imagine the look on her boyfriends face when she tells him that story. He will think twice before mistreating her.
So, for all you people out there that think your family is a little loony...We got you all beat.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Career Change



As of today, I am now an employee of Baywatch.
That is all.

"Pre-teen"


Ray-Ray turned 10 Friday. We celebrated by having a big pool party with lots of friends and family.
Rachel thinks she is now a "pre-teen" and with that title comes lots of perks...like a cell phone. Why would my 10 year old NEED a cell phone?
The only time she is away from me, she is with other responsible adults who have cell phones. Thus, the reason is peer pressure and the need to talk to boys.
Well, it ain't gonna happen.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Colonoscopy Journal...More Potty Humor



Dave Barry's Colonoscopy Journal


I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis . Then Andy explained the colonoscopy
procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'
I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America 's enemies.
I spent the next several days productively si tting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a
mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground. MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch?
This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed
by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.
Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice
but to burn your house. When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the
anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Qu een' has to be the least
appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than decade.
If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like. I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking 'Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine ...'.. and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.
Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humorist.

Just Say No to Crack


Dear Kim Kardashian,

I'm sure you are a really nice person. I have no idea why you are famous other than you made a not so nice tape with your ex-boyfriend and it got leaked to the whole world. You should have known better and kept it under lock and key...shame on you.
Anyhoo, I appreciate the fact that you are embracing your body and loving your big booty. It makes all of us women feel good that we don't have to weigh 98 pounds.
However, when you are showing off your big Judy booty for all the world to see...please wear a big enough bathing suit to cover your crack. That look is cute on my 19 month old when her diaper is sagging...but on you...it's just wrong.
Here in Kentucky, we keep our crack undercover and I suggest you do the same.
Sincerely,
SFM

Tidy Bowl!


I have a confession. I have an aversion to cleaning the toilets. It's almost a phobia.
I just can't stand the thought of cleaning something with my hands that my shiney hiney has recently been there doing not so nice things.
I know that some people say that the toilet is cleaner than your kitchen sink. I have no problem with the kitchen sink...my big hiney hasn't been sitting on it. And besides, who did that study? And if they are the kind of person to WANT to do a study like that...would I trust their judgement? I don't think so.
What gets me even more is the thought of cleaning some public bathroom. I could do it if I had too...but I would need some serious anxiety medicine and a big Hazmat suit.
Sometimes Todd tries to talk to me about staying home full time with the kids...but then I would have to give up the cleaning lady...and clean my own toilets...I JUST CAN'T DO IT!

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Why I May Be Banned from Old Navy

Today we went to the big city. Farm Chick and I carpooled to Louisville to do a couple things with the kids and go shopping. While Farm Chick was busy running an errand, I took Ray-Ray and Farm Chick's daughter, Toots, to the mall.
Off to Old Navy we go 'cause I need some new shorts to fit my new big ass. While I am hurriedly scoping the place out, the girls are running around the store like a cat on crack. They are jumping and hugging and laughing...having a grand old time.
All at once, I hear them go into hysterics and hear Toots say "You broke her arm!"
I look up and see that Ray-Ray is carrying around the mannequin's arm. At first, I want to laugh...cause there stands Ray-Ray stunned...her eyes big as saucers... holding a mannequin arm. My second instinct is to run...maybe if I go to the other side of the store no one will know they are with me.
But, I decided to do the correct mommy thing and be embarrassed and seek sympathetic looks from all the other mothers. I got a few kind eyes...but most of them were "holier than thou" and acted like they had never experienced such bad behavior.
To all THOSE woman out there....I just have one thing to say...I hope you get dysentery.

Gas Prices and SUV's



I have driven an SUV for several years. I love 'em. I feel safe on the road. If anyone gets in my way, I can just run over them.
I know they are horrible for the environment and my carbon footprint is huge. However,I like being able to go to Wal-mart and buy stuff knowing I can get it home. When you have a small car, you can't just go somewhere and buy a huge flat screen TV.
Now that gas is $4.15 a gallon...I've had to do some sacrificing...cause I can't afford to fill up the Rover tank every third day at $85.
We have purchased a '96 Honda Accord and I am already loving it. Filled it up for the first time for $50. I think I should get 30 to 35 MPG. Much better than the 15 I get on the Rover.
Less gas money spent means more play money for me...and I'm all about play money.
So for now and maybe forever, the Rover will be sitting still...unless I need to go somewhere for a big flat screen.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Hot Momma...the Queen of Pig Catchin'


Yes people...it's time for the county fair. The summer redneck social event. I love the county fair. Ever since I moved to this small town as a youngster, it's always been so much fun going to the fair. Carnival rides...junk food...spending $50 throwing darts at balloons to win a Hannah Montana poster.
Our fair has it all...tractor pulls, cattle judging, mud sling, beauty contests (but who needs those when you have your own tiara?), kids day, and the ever famous pig catchin' contest.
Yes, you heard me right...a pig catchin' contest. My friend, Hot Momma, has won twice. It started out one year as a joke. We all pooled our money together betting her that she couldn't take down that pig. Little did we know after chasing three kids, the woman could take down anything. The second year, the local Cattleman's association (which sponser's the event) had a nifty little trophy made for her with a big pig on top.
That my friends is what I look forward to most of all at the local fair. Hot momma catching the pig. This year she says she's not gonna do it....but I think if the right bet comes along, she'll be game. If she prevails again this year,and I'm sure she will, I promise pictures.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Busted!



My daughter took this picture of me feeding my face with chocolate cake. She then says to me, "Aren't you on a diet?"
She doesn't understand that I brought her into this world...carried her in my womb for 9 long months...labored many hours and gave birth to her? Gave up my slender thighs and taut belly? All this to raise her to remind me that chocolate cake is not on my diet. What did I do wrong?

Over the Rainbow



This rainbow is a little symbolic of my mood tonight. The storm has been brewing. It's thundered and showered...then comes the beautiful rainbow. A new beginning.
Do you ever just get pissy? (Yeah, I know Big Pissy stays that way! LOL) Are you ever in a fine mood...then the least little thing just makes you pissy? I do this from time to time (my husband may say at least 10 or 12 times a day....but who's asking him?). I don't know why I do this. There's no logical explanation for it. Could it be hormones? Stress? Just because I want to?
Well, tonight I just decided to get pissy for a few minutes...to get mad for no particular sane reason. My husband made the bad mistake of asking me what's wrong. I said, "Nothing."
At this point, he should have just let me be...but because he loves me no matter what...he kept pushing. So, I told him the absolutely ridiculous reason why I was pissy. He looked at me like I had lost my mind and I felt stupid and ashamed. He is a good man to put up with me.
By now he should know that sometimes I'm a little insane. He knew this when he married me because we discussed it often. My mother even tried to warn him...."Sometimes she is just hard to live with." But he loved me and still does....mood swings and all.
So, the storm has passed and the rainbow is bright...enjoy it while you can honey!

Candy Man



Remember when your mother warned you never to take candy from a stranger?
THIS is who she was talking about!

Monday, June 9, 2008

Why Can't My Kids Stay Clean?



Am I the only mother in America that has kids that can't stay clean? I swear, I get them all nice and clean...put on cute outfits...and before we can leave the house, they are filthy.
I have friends whose kids NEVER get dirty. They always look like they came out of the Pottery Barn catalog. Their hair is always neat and coiffed in their ponytails...their white outfits are always spotless...even in the middle of a mud sling. How do they do that? Do they threaten them with bodily harm if they get dirty? Are they just allergic to mud?
I swear my kids could get dirty in a sterile room.
By the time they are grown, I will need a 12 step program for my "Spray and Wash" habit.

Why This Always Makes Me Smile...




I love this tree. It is the most perfect maple tree in the world. My husband tells me that his grandparents planted this tree when they built the house we live in...somewhere in the late 40's to early 50's.
When I think about this tree and the history and memories...I can't help but smile. I think of all the warm summer evenings his grandparents sat on the front porch and waved to neighbors as they passed by. I think of all the afternoons my husband, as a child, climbed this tree playing imaginary games.
I think of all the afternoons my oldest daughter has played here in the mud after a cool spring shower.
I think of the impromptu picture that was taken after our wedding as we walked down to the tree with Rachel in between us.
I think of someday Ella getting married here at our home and having the same picture made with that tree.
I know it's silly to be attached to a tree...but I hope it's here as long as I am.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

I Am....

I am from pink depression glass, Bell Bakery doughnuts and the St. Marks United Methodist cookbook.
I am from the house on four acres with motorcycle and go-kart trails.
I am from honeysuckles, praying mantis and grapevine swings.
I am from birthday cakes for Jesus on Christmas day and "Are you savvy?", from Great Granny Ella and her tin can snuff and Ann and Tootie & Chris.
I am from the short tempered and stubborn and the meek and mild.
From "Don't talk to your momma that way!" and "Do you have ants in your pants?"
I am from vacation bible school and John 3:16 and Sunday potluck dinners.
I am from John Prine's "Take Me Back To Muhlenberg County" and Peabody's coal and River Queen and Paradise.
I am from Granny's turkey and dressing and pear honey perserves and ham and cheese sandwiches served in pie tins.
I am from Vietnam draft cards, the USS Pope and foreward observers and tunnel rats, from bouffant hair and marrying young and Winnebagos.
I am from Myrtle Beach camping trips, swimming trunks with cowboy boots and waterslides.
I am from photo albums with tissue paper, folded American flags, and shadowboxes of war medals, worn bibles, homemade quilts and love.


Oh, what a walk down memory lane. I read one of these poems on a new blog I've been checking out (www.blindpigandtheacorn.com). What a wonderful find.
Everyone should try this. It's amazing how your mind finds those great childhood memories.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

Possum or Oposum?





I know what you're thinking... What kind of hicks are these people? I swear, until this week, I have never, ever been this close to a skunk or a possum before.
The correct term is opossum...but around here they're just possums. You know, like the Beverly Hillbillies used to eat... "Granny's vittles."
My husband's business associate had a problem with possums tearing up his garden so he decided to catch 'em with a live trap. (Don't call PETA...no one was injured.)
Here's one of the culprits having a hot dog bun for a snack. He was taken to a location far away and released to go find another garden to destroy.
I will try not to have any more animal postings.

Cicada's...Stop the Insanity

I don't know about you guys... but here in Kentucky we are overwhelmed with cicada's. They are everywhere. Huge, nasty creatures.
I mentioned them to Big Pissy (www.southerncircleofhell.blogspot.com) and she thought I was nuts. So, just to prove my sanity...or lack of...I recorded these things. It's hard to describe the sound...like being in a barrel with 50,000 people whispering. It makes me think I have more voices in my head....
video

Friday, June 6, 2008

My Kind of Woman

video

My husband said this was something I would do. Is he implying that I have anger management issues?

Good Cooking! Good Friends!



My friend, Farm Chick, bought me this wonderful cookbook that was featured on my new friend Ginger's website (www.deepfriedkudzu.com). Farm Chick was the one that got me started going to her blog and if you haven't become a regular over there...your're missing out on some good stuff.
It's so wonderful to have a friend like Farm Chick. She sends me wonderful southern cookbooks, good gossip, makes a mean cocktail, knows my kids sometimes act like brats and doesn't judge me, and is a P.I.C.
Every southern woman must have a girlfriend or two that is her P.I.C....you know, partner in crime. The one who will not only bail you out of jail if need be...but more than likely be sittin' in the cell with you laughin' saying "Oh, that was FUN." A P.I.C. also is available to help dispose of the body of a cheating husband, abusive husband, or just smart ass husband. So far, we've not had to do that....but I know she's always there if I need her....shovel in hand.

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Mom's Iron Skillet Cobbler


If you live in the south, you gotta know how to make cobbler. My mom's is fantabulous. She is the queen of cobbler...tiara and all!
You make this for your man and I guarantee he will buy you jewelry.
I know this to be true...


Iron Skillet Cobbler

1 cup butter (yeah, the real stuff)
1 cup milk
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup sugar
1 tsp. baking soda
20 oz. canned fruit or fresh fruit of your choice

Melt butter in iron skillet in a 350 degree oven. In a bowl, mix milk, flour, sugar and baking soda. Once butter is melted, pour flour mixture into skillet. Next add fruit and return to oven for 45minutes. Serve warm with ice cream.

Tuff...The Gay Blue Heeler




This is Tuff. Tuff is my husband's blue heeler...and he's gay.
He's very "Jack McFarland" from Will & Grace. There's just something about his demeanor...he's just flamin'.
I acquired Tuff by marriage. I guess you could say he's my step-dog.
Sometimes he likes me...other times he just tolerates me.
Tuff has 150 acres to s*@t anywhere on the farm...but where does he choose to go? Right in my landscaping. I think he does this just to tick me off.
Between the locust...the skunks...the dog crapping in my landscaping...
It's like Big Pissy (www.southerncirleofhell.blogspot.com)said..I must have some bad juju!