24 February 2012

My Mommy Loves Me

My mom lives in Idaho.  The weather is brisk in Idaho in November and there are about five more increasingly chilly months of burrrrr left up there in the Potato Province.  On my temperature scale, cold is anywhere under 73 degrees.  That 73 degrees must be in the sun.  If it is not in the sun then it has to be 83 degrees.  My husband says that I have about a 2 degree range of comfort where weather is concerned.  With all due respect that's just not accurate.  The way I see it,  I have at least a 10 degree range of comfort,  if you don't count water.  If I am in any body of water which is outdoors then the water temperature must be 85 degrees, and we just cannot debate that.  But I digress.

I stepped out my front door last week and there was a parcel right there on my porch.  My heart gave a small leap in my chest.  Parcels usually mean you are finally getting something you ordered online or from a catalog.  Or from Nordstrom where they will mail your merchandise to you for free!  I racked my brain.  Hmmm.  Brain, think back.  Did you order anything from the internet or Nordstrom's lately?  Then my heart actually did a little flip when the thought occurred to me that this could be a present.  I love presents!  But, why would anybody be sending me a present?  It's not my birthday.  It's too early (although you wouldn't know it by the decorations in the stores), to be a Christmas gift.  Then, I saw the return address.  Then I saw the familiar handwriting.  Some people have such distinct handwriting.  My mom has beautiful handwriting.  It's a work of art really.  Don't you agree?

I tore open that box.  Well, tore open in a relative sense.   My mom wraps boxes with a full sized, stainless steel, professional, industrial, taper.  She can tape along with the best of them.  Think of when you try to open the packaging on a new CD.  It's like that.  But much worse  better.  Of course its better because, you really have to want what's inside that package to continue the ordeal journey of getting it unwrapped.  Not just anybody succeeds in getting a package wrapped by my mom, unwrapped.  It's safe from unwanted unwrappers, or those who are impatient.  You have to have patience.  You must also have a good pair of box razor cutters.  But when the return address label on a package is my moms address, and it's in my moms beautiful handwriting, it's worth it.  It's a present.  A really cool present, and it's not even my birthday!

There's nothing, and I mean n o t h i n g, I love more than a soft, cozy, blankey.  It goes way back to when my mom and my auntie used to save blue chip stamps.  In the 60's and early 70's when you went to the market or a pharmacy or hardware store, depending on how much the receipt was, you were issued blue chip stamps. Typically you got one stamp for every dime you spent.  The stamps came in a sheet and my sisters and cousins and I would lick the nasty tasting glue and paste them into a 'saver' book.  Once you filled up a book it could be redeemed for cash or merchandise at a redemption center or through a catalog.  It was kinda like getting something for nothing...  Sort of like grace.  I don't even know what all the prizes were. Dishes and pot roast pans, televisions and appliances or some such.  I don't care.  Because for us, the prize was always a blankey.  A silky blankey. Those immensely soft, rose patterned blankets epitomized the word 'silky'.  When I snuggled up with my silky the world was a better place.  I was comforted, and safe, and warm, when I had my silky wrapped around me.

This blankey my mom sent me has automatic, adjustable controls and three settings.  If you lose your mind and walk away from this blanket it will automatically turn itself off in 3 hours.  You can clean this puppy right in your own washing machine!

Not  this puppy.  This puppy is mine and what he is doing here is guarding me.  He's guarding me because someone might try to disturb my sleep.  Someone might need a Lacrosse shirt washed (immediately) or a ride to - Casey's, Courtney's, Kelsey's or Wylie's, (right now).  Someone might want dinner for goodness sakes.  But this puppy knows that his mommy has a hard-time case of insomnia.  She doesn't sleep easily or for long.  Sometimes there has to be drugs,  prescribed medication involved.  This pup is tougher than he looks.  He can be vicious and fierce when he's protecting me.  So back off.  I am now the proud owner of a silky soft, heated blanket that matches my favorite chair and I must not be disturbed.

I needed this blankey.  My mother innately knows these things.  My temperature comfort range was about to be compromised!  It's November.  Even in Southern California!  But I have not a care in the world because, my mommy is still making sure that I am surrounded in a soft, warm, cloud of comfort.


Love you more than all the electricity I'm saving by turning off the heater and turning on my blankey,



21 February 2012

Fat Tuesday Cottage Style

Life is uncertain.  Eat dessert first. ~ Ernestine Ulmer

Last summer I wrote a post about life in my neighborhood Sauce Sunday's.  It was a super long post, and since I was pushing it, I promised to continue later because, I knew you would want to see the goodness that comes next. Its been a while but, I think you're gonna find it worth the wait when you see what's up.  It's glorious. "Food glorious food!" (Name that movie.)  This is my ode to Fat Tuesday because after tomorrow I'll be observing Lent and will be trying to abstaining from indulgences like these.  But until then - enjoy!

SWEET.  Chris makes every one of these baby cupcakes.  Each one is decorated individually with love.  I like to call this the pieze de resistance of cupcakes!

 As you can see, they go fast!  You have probably heard the saying, stressed spelled backwards is desserts.  Coincidence, I think not!

If cupcakes aren't enough of a treat, or if cupcakes aren't your thing - phssst, Chris provides ice cream too.  One scoop or two?
My husband and kids think that without ice cream life would be chaos and darkness.

Because of the fact that I don't like ice cream, (don't judge me, my drug of choice is Jr. Mints), and I eat enough of those to keep the Hershey Company in business, I never would have thought of this embellishment.  Well, that and I'm not that innovative where food is concerned. But I almost changed my mind because of this creative idea.  Flavored syrups. It was a huge hit and now my own family is hooked and we have our own stash.  Unlike myself, my fam loves ice cream.

Now Hershey's syrup I can get behind; and under and over and beside and all over.  Have you ever had banana slices covered with Hershey's syrup and slivered almonds?  Excuse me, I'll be right back.  I just happen to have 3 fresh bananas and a ravishing appetite for sweets.

I'm back and fat, but HAPPY.

Lora Brody once said, "Don't wreck a sublime chocolate experience by feeling guilty."  What a wise woman; and I wholly concur.

 Oh Chris, how I love thee and thy cupcakes.

For those who don't eat sweets.  I know, weird huh?  But if this is you, I wouldn't admit it. If you love me and you wanna be my friend, you must love sweets.  I never trust a person who doesn't eat sweets or love my dogs.  Just sayin.  

It's Fat Tuesday, so go make some baby cupcakes, have some ice cream on the side and watermelon isn't in season anyway - so just skip it.  

Tomorrow is the beginning of the Lenten Season in our church.  No more cupcakes for 40 days.  Ah well, there's always Sauce Sunday next summer.  Right Chris?  Right?  I know I'm right.  Right?

Here now, is your sunset for tonight.  Have I told you lately how much you all mean so much to me?  Your support and kind words are why I write this blog.  So please enjoy the sunset and may you all be blessed by the season, whatever it means to you.

Love ya more than cupcakes!



05 February 2012

399 In Dog Years Yo!

I'm 399 years old in dog years today.
I wrote this poem in my honor.

My skin is getting wrinkly
My thighs are getting fat
When I tug on my cheek in fact
It doesn't fall right back

My eyelids are starting to droop
I have trouble going poop
One eye sags lower than the other
And when I sleep on my back
I choke and fear I might smother.

There's a creak in my neck
That wasn't there before
And when I look in the mirror
At my back side
It's practically drooping on the floor.

There are kids who call me grammy
Box boys no longer flirt
And when I bend to genuflect in church
My knees they really hurt.

Even though I like to rest
My head on my bed before nine
At least I can say
I'm not dead (yet)
Before my time!
Happy Birthday To Meeeeeee!

Blessings for a beautiful day,