I CAN COUNT ON YOU LIKE FOUR, THREE, TWO

 

Every year when February rolls around, I want to crawl into bed and not stick my nose out from under the covers until March 1st.  Just like Punxsutawny Phil…..only different.  My beloved Lucy passed away eight years ago in February and since then the second month of the year has become my most dreaded time.  History has proven it is a sucky month to be sure.  After Lucy died, all sorts of mayhem has fallen upon us in February.   My apologies to those of you who have birthdays or anniversaries in this month.  You may have some special affection for the month of FebI’MGONNAKICKYOURARSEruary but as for me, I would totally vote to take it right off the calendar.   I mean, who needs the confusion anyway?  28 days?  29?”  Who can keep track?

And the weather!  Enough winter already!  OK, you’ve got me there.  February is quite beautiful for the most part in Florida.  It is usually sunny and about 72f.  Who can complain about that? But still….even so, I detest the month and all of the crap-storm it brings with it.

That is until this year…………

This year, I got smart.  About mid-January, I started feeling anxiety about the days to come.  Those January days just kept ticking by on the calendar and impending doom was weighing heavily on my shoulders.  I wasn’t sleeping well.  I was cranky.  No amount of chocolate chip cookies (read dough) or Cabernet Sauvignon was sufficient to quell the storm that was brewing in my heart. 

I began to joke about running away from home.  Getting on the Florida turnpike and just driving until I ran out of gas, money and SweeTarts.  I mentioned this several times to a good friend of mine who shall remain nameless but you may know her as Midlife Slices.   Well, MLS, being MLS, did what MLS does so graciously, she extended an invitation to me to stay at her home and refresh my spirit.  Or maybe I invited myself……..I’m not really sure at this point…..but that is neither here not there, right?  Plane tickets were purchased, plans were made and Feb.1st found me on a plane to Texas. 

MLS and her Hunk a Burnin’ Love, aka HBL, greeted me with open arms at the airport and whisked me off to their home.  One might ask if I was a little worried about traveling to a complete stranger’s home and relying entirely on them for transportation (read no escape route).  Well, to tell the truth, MLS IS strange but she is no stranger to me.  We met several years ago right here in these pages and a beautiful albeit warped friendship (Love ya, MLS) has developed from there.  And was I a little nervous about climbing into their SUV after seeing HBL open the back to load my luggage and spotting duct tape and blankets wadded up in the cargo hold? Not one bit.  Did I feel any apprehension while riding in the dark in a place completely foreign to me as they drove me out into the middle of nowhere.  Actually, no, I didn’t. OK, I may or may not have checked my iphone no less than a dozen times to make sure of a signal. 

OK, the real truth is that MLS and I actually met in person almost a year ago when after complaining about needing a getaway, a girls weekend was planned and executed with two other “perfect strangers”, known here in the interwebs as Fat Cat Crochet and Nothing Fancy.  I was in blog darkness then and have yet to write about that escapade but just you wait……I will write about it……as soon as I can remember the details. 

MLS and HBL welcomed me into their home and treated me like ……well….like the Queen that I am.  *snort*   They wined me and dined me.  They soaked me (in a hottub) and choked me (with jalapeno chips).  They booted me (cowboy, of course) and suited me (off to cowboy church).  They cowed me and WOWed me at the rodeo!  I even got manure on my pants!  Now I’ve run out of rhymes but let it suffice to say that I had a darn good time and my spirit WAS refreshed.  I left Texas with my soul at peace and with a newfound love for all things of the Lonestar state.  Hot sauce! Steak!  Caramel Pecan chewy things that are to die for!  Cowboy hats!  Cowboy boots!  Beer served while you are shopping!  Cowboy church!  MLS!  HBL! 

Words cannot express my gratitude for the friendship and hospitality of MLS and HBL.  And I can’t say enough how blessed I am to have met such wonderful friends here in bloggyland.  My dear peeps, if you ever have the chance to meet and greet with a friend with whom you’ve connected here in the interwebs, don’t walk, RUN, straight to the nearest Starbucks (but take a bodyguard….one has to be careful) and share a cup of Joe with them.  And if they are normal like you…….or abnormal as was the case with MLS and me, invite them into your home,  You won’t regret it.  Well, MLS might but that’s a different story. 

Thank you, MLS!  I love you like my luggage……even more.  LIKE YOUR LUGGAGE! 

 

And when I got home……you’ll never guess what was waiting in my drive…….

 

To be continued.  

 

Hugs and Kisses,

SMB

 

 

HEY, HEY, PAULA!

                                                        
I want to marry you. 

OK, so maybe I don’t really want to marry her because as my dear friend, Janie, says, I’m “not turned that way” but with the good Lord’s blessing, I would gladly marry her chicken pot pie!
My dear friend, Paula, has come under serious attack this week.  An attack of the force which is usually reserved for Osama bin Laden, may he RIH, and the Kardashians.

I turned on my television Monday morning for my daily dose of the Today show while I readied myself for work.  Much to my surprise, there was my BFF, Paula, on the screen.  What?  you don’t believe we are BFFs?  Please refer to picture below.  ………See?  But I digress.  There was Paula announcing to the world what she has known for 3 years.  She has been diagnosed with type II diabetes.  Bless her heart ..and her glucose levels, please.  She also announced that she is the new spokeswoman for a diabetes related medicine, the name of which I can’t remember and am too lazy to look up.  Hey, I’m a blogger, not a journalist!  I’m not getting paid for this crap interesting viewpoint, you know.



As the week progressed, I couldn’t turn on the TV without hearing about Paula and her announcement.  ABC, NBC and CBS couldn’t stop talking about it.  Apparently the cast of Jersey Shore was uncharacteristically behaving themselves this week and poor Paula became the focus of the national media.

It seems that she has come under attack because she withheld information about her diagnosis, continued to preach the yummy goodness of butter, bacon and mayonaise for three years until she was offered a paid position as a spokeswoman for this drug company.  I say……SO WHAT!  Good.For.Her!

Is this not America?  The land of opportunity and fried green tomatoes?


What is the big deal?  I can’t believe there is a person on this planet that turns to any of the many Paula Deen shows, cookbooks or magazines for advice on good nutrition.  The woman has built an empire selling indulgence to the masses.  And we ate it up and asked for more!  This is a woman who not that many years ago was broke and going from office building to office building selling sandwiches.  Why would she risk the level of success she has earned because of her personal health problem?  It is really none of our business unless she wants to make it so.  For her own sake, I hope that has changed her eating habits and is following her physicians instructions but I also hope that she will continue to give us what we crave: Recipes for Ooey Gooey Butter cake and macaroni and cheese.

I FUZZY HEART WITH SPRINKLES ON TOP love Paula Deen but you only have to take one look at her to know that while she is beautiful, she is extremely over-weight and probably not in the best of health. Is it really any surprise that she has diabetes?   But Paula Deen is not to blame for our over-weight society and all of the health issues that go along with it.  Come on, people, stand up and take responsibility for your own choices.  Any American who says they don’t already know that mayonnaise, butter and bacon are all fat and should be avoided or at least consumed in moderation is a big, fat liar….or lives in a cave with no WIFI.
 
There are two whole networks  devoted exclusively to the preparation and consumption of food.   Any show touting the benefits of healthy cooking doesn’t last long.  We all know how to eat healthy.  We all know that we are supposed to  more veggies and fruit, less fat, less sugar, lean meats, blah, blah, blah.  We also all have to keep our houses clean but we don’t want to watch television shows about the daily grind.  We want indulgence!  Where is the crime in giving us what we want?
 
Take a look at the most successful celebrity chefs on the Food network: 

Paula – nuff said.

Ina Garten – overweight.

Emeril – overweight.

Rachael Ray – while not extremely overweight, she clearly struggles with the ups and downs on the scale like the rest of us.

Guy Fieri – overweight.

Tyler Florence – the goodies are catching up with him and he is getting a little thick around the middle.  God love his sexy soul.  XOXO, my love.

Bobby Flay – I can see a paunch.

Giada DeLaurentis – Well…..there are exceptions to every rule.  Clearly something is suspect here.  Whether this woman has mastered the art of moderation or is simply blessed with supergenes, we need to bottle it and sell it to the masses.  Let me be the first in line. So in closing, I say:

Dear National Media:

Go pick on someone else.  Leave my friend, Paula, alone.  I’m pretty sure I heard there is a presidential primary going on somewhere.
 
Respectfully,
Smart Mouth Broad

And to the rest of you who may or may not agree with my point of view, allow me to leave you with this little ditty that I can’t seem to get out of my head.

Hugs and kisses,
SMB

ARMED AND DANGEROUS

 

I know I said in my last post that I didn’t have anything to talk about but when I put my thinker to work, I actually found that I had quite a few topics about which we should discuss here in these pages but first things first:

Despite the doubts of close friends and family, I AM a reasonable woman of sound mind, with buckets full of patience and an undeniable pure heart.  All that being said, I’m crazed with impatience over the security measures of which we much tolerate in our daily lives while living in the good ole US of A.

I’m all for homeland security.  I applaud it.  My lack of patience isn’t with what we must endure to ensure our citizens safety. It is with the practices put into place to secure our safety.  I don’t mind doing what needs to be done.  Without complaint I suffer through long lines and walking bare-footed (Ewwww!) through security booths designed to detect a lethal weapon in my bra.  My problem is with the naivety of the practices put into place. 

Have you been to Disney World since 9/11?  First of all, it is absurd to conceive of a situation where anyone would dare to launch a terrorist attack at the most magical place on Earth!  Duh…. 

Anyway, once you’ve presented your ticket, been finger-printed, shown your pass-port and provided access to all of your banking information (I’m just kidding about that last part….sort of…), you then proceed to the security check stations.  There are several tents set up to accommodate the masses.  You choose your line and wait your turn to be inspected.  Once you arrive at the front of the line, a security guard has you open your hangbags, tote bags, diaper bags, etc.  With a flash light, they “inspect” your bag and then give you the go – ahead to proceed to Main Street USA in the House of Mouse where all-day suckers and ginormous turkey legs await. 

Here’s my problem.  That inspection?  Yeah.  The light is flashed into your bag and the guard glances without moving a single thing.  Have you seen my bag?  Remember Mary Poppins’ carpet bag?  That’s me.  I have my whole life in there.  As previously mentioned, I’m a reasonably intelligent woman.  Do you really think that if I was carrying, say a gun, knife, or dare I say, at the risk of being banned from my favorite place for life…..a bomb, that I wouldn’t be smart enough to put it under my wallet, tissues and sunglasses?  Why are you wasting my time?  I could already be pinching Mickey’s cute little cheeks!  I don’t mind having my bag checked for security but for Heaven’s sake:  Check it!  If they are going to perform this security joke, they should at least make the security guards dress as Donald Duck or Goofy. 

None of this diminishes my love for the place.  It truly is the happiest place on earth.  (I was corrected at the gate and told that it is NOT the happiest place on earth.  That is DisneyLand in California.  Disney World is “the most magical place on Earth!”  Well…….excuuuuuuuse me!  Whatever…  Somebody needs to sprinkle a little more pixie dust in their cereal.

My frustrations with security isn’t limited to Disney World.  Earlier this week I had to renew my drivers license.  The state of Florida required several documents be presented in order to renew my privilege to drive.  The one that frustrated me the most was my marriage license.  I’ve been married for over 31 years.  My married name has been on my license for that same amount of time.  In order to have my name changed to my married name on my drivers license, I had to present my marriage license.  Why now, after 31 years, are they suddenly questioning if my marriage is legitimate?  Once again, I presented the same license.  Again, I don’t mind going through these procedures but repeating the same ones seems a bit ridiculous and time consuming.   *Deep breath*  OK, I feel a little better having vented that. 

And air travel!  Any post about security policies and procedures wouldn’t be complete without mentioning airport security. 

My dad had a hip replacement a few years ago.  He gets stopped by security each and every time he travels.  They put him in the lucite box and wand, question and frisk him.  Every.single.time.  Meanwhile his daughter, who shall not be named, may or may not have had a mini box cutter and a small pair of scissors in her handbag and slid right through completely undetected.  In her defense, she was unaware of the forgotten security breach.  And she may or may not have committed that same breach of security on over a dozen flights undetected. 

So what I’m saying is:  Security?  I’m all for it.  But if we are going to have to endure it, can we please UP OUR GAME to make it effective?

Hugs and Kisses,

SMB

JUST MY LITTLE PINKY TOE INTO THE WATER

 

I’ve been yearning to write again.  I can’t seem to find the time to sit down and put words to pape…uh……screen.   For almost two weeks, I’ve been knocked completely off my feet with the cold from H-E-double hockey sticks.  So now I have the time.  In fact, I’m bored out of my skull from watching endless television, pinning…(What?  You haven’t heard about pinning?  More about that later…) and texting whiny comments to my friends and family. 

So now that I have the time, here I am: Keys at my fingertips and I’ve got nothing! 

Nothing clever to say.  Nothing exciting happening to tell. I can’t even think of a smart mouthed comment to make on current events.  ………………..Nope.  ……Nothing.

 

But this is me, putting my little pinky toe back into the water with hopes that, someday soon, something blog=worthy will come to mind and will make it to these pages.

I’ve missed this place.  It’s cozy and warm here.   It’s safe here.  It’s home.

 

Love and Kisses,

SMB

THE APPLE DOESN’T FALL FAR

                           or CHEAP AND EASY LIKE SUNDAY MORNING

 

I confess:  I’m cheap.  We could sugar coat it a bit and say that I’m frugal but the truth is that I’m just plain cheap. 

The facts clearly reveal the truth.

• I only shop from the clearance rack.  I haven’t been ahead of the trend for over 20 years….if ever.
• I decide what we “want” to eat for the week from the local grocer’s sale flyer.
• I won’t replace anything until it’s broken.  I mean really broken.  Can’t be fixed – broken.
• I will convince myself that I like something based on its low price.  If it’s only $8.20: It’s perfect and exactly what I was looking for…..or close enough.  
• I refuse to replace my 30 year old microwave even though my children are certain that we are getting excess radiation.  The darn thing still reheats yesterday’s meatloaf, doesn’t it?  Why should I dump it?

One might think with all of this glorious frugality, I would be rolling in dough.  Sadly that is not the case. This either means that I’m a complete failure at being a cheapskate or that if I weren’t so miserly with my cash, I would really be in trouble. 

I come by this trait honestly enough.  My own beloved mother, Lucy, was a real penny pincher.  The woman reused the zip lock baggies in which she lovingly placed the cookies she packed for my father’s lunch.  After several weeks of recycling, my poor daddy could no longer identify the cookie he was consuming because it was covered in a such a potpourri of crumbs from earlier offerings.  Laugh if you must but – TRUE STORY.  Pecan Sandie?  Oreo?  Chips Ahoy?  No clue.

My mother and grandmother used to scour the grocery ads in the newspaper and then drive all over the county to make sure that they didn’t pay a cent more for paper toweling than what was necessary.  Never mind the gas that was wasted as they visited every supermarket within a fifty mile radius.  

The practice that drove me (a card carrying tightwad) more than just a little over the edge was when Mother would insist that we wash “disposable” plastic plates, cups and eating utensils.  I would argue, “Isn’t the reason we’re using these items in the first place to reduce the workload and have more time to enjoy ourselves?  Just throw them away!”  Alas, Mom was always right and wash them we would.  I probably should let it go but I’m still grinding my teeth a little over that one.

I’m still using the hand mixer I received as a bridal shower gift over thirty years ago.  While I dream about the Kitchenaid hand mixer with its wire whisk magic beaters; my avocado green, Sunbeam Mixmaster just WON’T DIE!  Just to give you a true visual of how splendid this small appliance is, I would be remiss not to mention that somewhere in the move to Florida in 1980 the cord was lost or thrown out.  It was replaced with a brown cord from some other appliance that has long since bit the dust.    You have to shove a little harder than normal to get the cord in but it WILL fit.  Don’t think I haven’t tried to speed up the demise of the Mixmaster either.  I’ve accidentally dropped it once or twice or ten times.  Its housing is cracked.  Every time I think I’ll finally get that new, shiny whisky gadget, MHS manages to bring the dang thing back to life.  Sometimes I think that man hates me.

I realize that any other woman would just get the new one that she wanted and put the old one in a drawer as a back-up.  Or give it to their college age daughter.  Or put it in the yard sale pile. Or *gasp* throw it away.  Not me.  It pains me to replace something that is still in working order.  (Let us not forget, I’ve been married to the same man for over thirty years.)

I am making little break-throughs though.  My boss mentioned several times to me that our office kitchen needs a new toaster.  I kept arguing that the one we had was still working.   She claims that it was burning her toast.  Hogwash!  Adjust the setting!  Eventually, I relented.  The woman signs my paychecks after all.  I shopped for the best deal, bought the new toaster and installed it on the kitchen counter in our break room.  And then I did something that I’ve never done before.

I threw a perfectly good working toaster in the trash!  Looking back, I feel a little guilty.  I could have donated it.  But it WAS burning the toast. 

 

Hugs and Kisses,

SMB

PS. What have you thrown away lately?