GETTIN' SMARTER EVERY DAY….. OR SUPER POOPER POWER

OK, So I really didn’t think it would be this long before I made it back to this place.  All I have to say for myself if that I did cross over to the dark side and let it suffice to say that my life has been forever changed.  I used to scoff, sneer and roll my eyes at all those iphone people and their love for an electronic device.  Ya’ll know that I cherished my “crackberry” but they were ridiculous.

……and now I’m one of them.  *sigh*

So many apps, so little time and there you have it:  I’ve been busy.  My apologies.

A few days ago, it occurred to me that my name is even more misleading than previously believed.  Most people only use their first name but in my case you have to use my first, middle and last name to get the whole picture of who I am.  Allow me to explain:

SMART.MOUTH.BROAD

If you only consider my first name, it implies that I’m intelligent, someone whose opinion is to be respected.  But you must add the middle name to discover that is not necessarily the case.  It’s not  that I’m stoopid or anything but I’m just sayin’.  And then of course when you add in the last name, gender is discerned and that IS important.

Still some people remain confused.  Even my own daughter who knows me better than most has fallen victim to this misconception.  She sent me a text on Monday morning that read: “Any words of wisdom from a Smart Mouth Broad?”

This got me thinking.  I need to up my game.  I’ve got to become smarter.  I need to put that slimy blob of intellect inside my skull to work.  After all, I’m not 49 anymore.  Wisdom should be something that falls easily from my lips, not just something that I profess with tongue in cheek smartarsiness.  And so, the quest for knowledge begins.

I work from home on Fridays.  This morning found me on the couch watching a segment on Live with Regis and Kelly that included worm castings.  Worm castings?  Yep.  That’s what I said.

What are worm castings?  Not the actions of fly fisherworms like I imagined.  No, it’s worm poop.  What, you ask, does one do with worm poop?  Fertilizer, of course.  Who knew?  Certainly not me.

There is so much I don’t know.

Like for instance:

• Worms are so small.  Even if they are made up of 100% poop, how long does it take a worm to produce a decent size bag of fertilizer?
• Dare I even think about how you collect worm poop?
• And who has this job?
• Once I get answers to all these questions, how am I going to work this into witty dinner-party conversation?

So I did a little research and it seems that earthworms (apparently they make the best poop) do nothing more than eat, have sex and poop.  What a life!   It’s not clear if they sleep or not but so far, it sounds like a pretty good gig.  Don’t take my word for it, though.  Watch this:



Now don’t ever say that you didn’t learn anything from me.


I have to run.  My iphone is charged and it’s my move in Words with Friends.  I’m becoming quite the intellectual, right? 

Love and hugs,
SMB

CROSSING OVER TO THE DARK SIDE

 

If you’ve visited these pages once or twice before, no doubt you’ve heard me mention my beloved “crackberry”.  My love affair with my “crackberry” aka blackberry began years ago.  Oh sure, I’ve upgraded over the years to newer, more flashy models but a loyal blackberry fan, I have been.  This fancy little device brings me my email instantly allowing me to tend to business and pleasure from almost anywhere.  Friends, family and colleagues can reach me via phone, email, text, blackberry messenger, facebook and twitter any time.  While some see that as a disturbance, I like to be connected at all times.  I have my crackberry at my side 24/7 and I like it that way.   I don’t like to think that someone needs to reach me and can’t.  ….and I can never understand why anyone would ever want to wait to hear from me.  Crazy nonsense! 

About a month ago Verizon announced that they would be offering the iphone.  Now the only thing I’m more loyal to than my blackberry is my cell carrier (….oh and MHS).  They all have their drawbacks but most of my friends and family are on Verizon and that saves me minutes and minutes equals dollars.  ….and I’m cheap like that. 

I have to admit that in the past, I have always sort of turned up my nose at the iphone and its users.  I may or may not have  thought that my crackberry was far superior with its more serious, businesslike tone and fancy email push.

But lately, my head has been turned.  I am hearing the iphone and all of its fantappulousness call my name.   I have resisted it for a long time but that shiny little rectangle of awesome technology is making me rethink my love affair with my crackberry.  Daughter #1 has one.  She is always showing off all the advantages of the iphone.

I hear the email server isn’t the best and can’t compare to the crackberry but everyone appears to be so caught up by all the apps that they don’t care if they get their email in a timely fashion.  How can that be?  Is there some sort of gas that is emitted from the iphone that creates euphoria, reduces stress and erases the urge to have up to the minute communication with your office?  Do you just become so dazzled with all the apps and their capabilities that the main reason to have the device no longer matters?

The touch screen is more than a little daunting to me too.  I am a total SPAZ with a touch screen.  I presume that touch screen skills improve with practice but I worry that I might throw the darned thing out the window before I reach an acceptable skill level. 

So far, I’ve turned a blind eye.  I’ve stood fast in my love for my crackberry and could not be swayed.  But did you know the iphone has a weight watchers mobile app that is ever so much more efficient than the points calculator on my crackberry? 

Did you know that you can pull up a birthday candle app for an impromptu birthday party?   ….And blow it out?  Way cool.

So many apps, so little time.  One con to all my pros is that if I were to purchase one of these shiny devils, I may never look up again but instead be stuck with my head down in constant fascination of the wonder of it all.

Did you know that the iphone is faster than my crackberry.

Oh yes, my head is turned.  Surely, my crackberry senses that things are not the same between us.  Could this be the beginning of the end? 

Where do you stand on this issue?  Have you crossed over to the dark side?  Are you considering it?  Or have you found  a way to resist the ever-present temptation of this slick little bugger?

GOOD NEWS, BAD NEWS

The bad news:  I haven't been tracking my food intake for the last few days.

The good news:  I lost a pound. 

The bad news:  I have diverticulitis.

The good news:  I don't have colon cancer.

The bad news:  I am on a liquid diet for the next few days.

The good news:  I will probably lose more weight.

My question:  Does anyone know how many Weight Watchers plus points are in the barium prep you drink before an abdominal CT scan?  

Woe is me and all that whiney crap.  I’m home sick for bed rest and on television overload.  Truthfully, I’m delighted.  I’ve never been so happy to have a disease.  Since my beloved mother, Lucy, died from colon cancer, the last thing I wanted to hear is that I have something wrong with my colon.  To say I was a little freaked is an understatement of gigantic proportion.  Every time the doctor left the exam room for this thing or that I was in tears with total illogical paranoia.  By all accounts, what I was suffering appeared to be diverticulitis but other more serious problems couldn’t be ruled out until a CT was performed.  And that’s what had me shaking in my 3 inch heels. I must have said to myself, “Come on Smart Mouth, pull it together.” no less than 100 times. 

In the end, I was diagnosed with diverticulitis but I feel blessed.  I’m more than a little sad about saying goodbye to some food favorites for the rest of my life but grateful that is all that is wrong with me. 

The bad news:  I am on two very strong antibiotics, one of which has some pretty strict restrictions.  The following is the conversation I had with my boss/doctor.

DR:  “OK, I spoke with the GI specialist and she said that you do need to take both antibiotics.  You will need to fill the second prescription.  The thing is; with this one, you can’t drink anything.”

SMB:  “Nothing?”

DR:  “Absolutely nothing.  I’m serious.  If you drink even a sip, you can become very ill.”

SMB:  “Not even water?”

DR:  “No, you can have water.  I mean alcohol.  I’m serious.  Not even a beer.”

SMB:  “Uh, OK?”  looking a bit confused.  “I wasn’t really planning on drinking anyway.”

DR:  “REALLY!  I’m serious.  No wine, no beer.  AT.ALL!

SMB:  “OK, OK.  It’s not like I’m an alcoholic or anything.  What do you think of me?”

DR:  “I’m just sayin’.”

Is it a bad thing when your boss thinks you’re an alcoholic?

IF I’M DEAD TOMORROW……It was worth it!

 

My Harley Stud and I celebrated my ten pound weight loss this morning with a scrumptious buttermilk blueberry pancake (or is that blueberry buttermilk pancake?) breakfast complete with sugar-free syrup, sausage (lite) and fresh melon with coffee.  It was…

TO.DIE.FOR.

and I mean that literally. 

Let’s forget the irony of the somewhat destructive choice of celebrating weight-loss with food indulgences, there is another destructive concern at play here.  (Don’t be fooled by that sugar-free syrup and lite sausage.  It is still sausage and eating four of these pancakes cannot be considered light even when they are accompanied by sugar-free syrup and Smart Balance instead of butter.)

Quite by accident, about a year ago, I stumbled across a recipe for buttermilk pancakes.  We tried it and since that day nothing else will do.  We used to just buy the box mix and add water and sometimes an egg but no more.  We are hooked.  Nothing else will do. 

We don’t make pancakes every weekend but we make them quite often so I always try to keep buttermilk on hand.  When we decided to make pancakes this morning, we discovered that the buttermilk in the fridge had an expiration date of Feb 5th. 

…..but I really wanted pancakes.  I opened it and gave it a sniff.  It smelled like buttermilk.  Isn’t buttermilk half spoiled anyway?  What does bad buttermilk smell like?  I surely don’t know.  …..and I really wanted pancakes. 

So my recipe calls for 3 cups of buttermilk.  I only had 2 cups.  I figured that I could counteract any icky after-life properties of the expired buttermilk with substituting cream and skim milk to make up the difference. 

Might I say that they were the best darn pancakes we’ve ever had.  And if we don’t survive the night, it will soooooo be worth it.  And just to be sure that the recipe doesn’t die with me, I’ve included it below for your culinary enjoyment.  I will leave it up to you to use fresh or expired buttermilk.

 

Buttermilk Pancakes

3 cups flour

3 TBS white sugar

1 TBS baking powder

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

3 cups buttermilk (or 2 cups buttermilk 15 days past expiration date mixed with 1/2 cup heavy cream and 1/2 cup skim milk)

1/2 cup milk

3 eggs

1/3 cup butter melted

1 tsp vanilla

Mix the dry and wet ingredients separately and then combine.  For uniform pancakes, use a gravy ladle to spoon onto buttered griddle.  You know the rest. 

*Disclaimer*

These pancakes are a little more work than adding water to a box mix but are truly worth the effort.  Be warned.  Easy box mix pancakes will never do once you’ve tried these little discs of yumminess.

 

Hugs and Kisses,

SMB

SAY THAT AGAIN?

If you’ve been here awhile, you know that I’m not really very political.  I try to avoid the news because it is mostly bad and being informed is highly over-rated in my opinion.  For example, we have a breaking story in Palm Beach County that is heart-breaking.  It is a case of child abuse and insanity beyond belief.  The father/child abuser should be released from the hospital tomorrow and will go to jail awaiting a hearing.  All “innocent until proven guilty” notions aside, the death penalty will be too good for this guy.  Reading stories like this leaves me feeling helpless.  How do we save every child?  This question lays heavily on my heart. 

In other Palm Beach County news, our school board is in the process of firing our superintendent of schools.  He’s made some bad choices, some sketchy deals and by most accounts doesn’t deserve the job.  The part that blows my mind is his severance package. 

The following was copied and pasted from our local paper, The Palm Beach Post:

“Under the second proposal, Johnson would be paid more than $418,000 in salary, severance pay, accrued vacation and sick time and health insurance benefits. His insurance benefits for him and his wife would continue until June 30, 2014.”

How do you and I get a sweet deal like that?  Now you tell me:  If you cheat the company for which you work and are fired, would you get a severance package like that?  It’s insane!  Teachers are struggling on miserable salaries and this guy gets $418,000 when he’s fired?  I smell a rat!

There is too much wrong in the world.   I spent 15 minutes reading the paper, trying to do the grown-up thing, educate myself in the ways of the world.  NO THANK YOU VERY MUCH!   Now my head hurts.  It’s too much.  I’m going back to sticking my head in the sand.
 
What about you?  Are you a newshound?  Can you make it through the day without a current events fix?  Or do you want to come on over to my place?  It’s cozy here in the bubble. 

Hugs and Kisses,
SMB