I'm not dead!

For those of you that actually visit my blog on any sort of regular basis and have been wondering if I'm still alive. . . I am!!!

I've been busy getting ready for a vacation and that takes a lot of my free time when I get home from work.  I sure hope to have some good stories to tell when I get back though!

I know you are thinking, "Why doesn't she blog from work then?"  I've been working my ass off!  I sort of wish that was literal.  Well, I don't really want to be "ass less" as it would hurt to sit down without one.  But I wouldn't mind if it was a bit smaller.

Anyway, don't go away.  Keep checking. . . I'm here.  I'll get back to you with some stories or observations as soon as my life slows down a bit.

Meanwhile, I plan to drink a lot of these tonight:



I'll be drinking glasses, not pitchers!!

 

And this last month or so at work may cause me to have a few of these too:

Be careful. Very, very careful.

And since it's Friday, look at these cute baby animals and feel happy!





    

If this picture doesn't make you smile you have a cold, cold heart.





Yes, squirrels are rats with fuzzy tails but BABY squirrels are adorable!



Who doesn't love puppies?

That's what I hired YOU for!

As my man, Angry has a list of duties that are his and his alone.

ü    He is in charge of filling my car with gas.  Men love cars.  Cars need gas.  MY car needs gas.

ü    He is in charge of lawn care.  When I was in college, the city I lived in allowed you to work for them for two summers.  I was in the “Lawn and Garden” Department one of my years.  I mowed grass (using both riding and push mowers) five days a week, eight hours a day for three months.  That was enough grass cutting for my lifetime.  I will never, ever cut grass again as long as I live.  If Angry quits, I will just live with that ensuing jungle.

ü    He is in charge of snow removal.  I hate cold and snow (and exercise in general).  That’s all he (and you) needs to know.

ü    He is in charge of making lunches.  I cook dinner.  I do all the dishes that can’t go into the dishwasher (a job that I hate despise).  His comparable job is to make our “brown bag” lunches for work.  I think he got the easier job (and, I want a raise!).

ü    He is in charge of taking the garbage out.  This is a man’s job.  Women should not have to deal with disgusting bags of garbage.  My rules only, but he has to follow them (so says me).

ü    He is in charge of carrying any heavy bags.  This means grocery bags as well as shopping bags at the mall.  I drag him with me to the mall just so he can handle the bags of shoes I accumulate.  Men are strong; they should carry the heavy stuff even if it’s my shoes.

ü    He is in charge of matching his own socks.  I do all the laundry.  I fold everything.  He can putz with putting together all the totally similar white socks that he wears.  Problem is, he tends to keep the ones with holes in them.  I need to re-train him to throw those away!

I married hired him almost 21 years ago.  This information is all on that license contract he signed!  You know, till death do us part.

Missing in action!

I'm not sure how many "regular" readers I actually have but I just want to say that I'm sorry I've been MIA recently.

1. I'm swamped at work like you wouldn't believe.
2. I go to the gym pretty much every night after work.  When I get home, I eat dinner and go to bed.

That leaves no time to blog!!  While I realize that I should be worried about YOU and not me, I just can't drag my computer out at night and type.

I'm hoping work will slow down a bit and I can entertain you with some stories soon!!

Meanwhile, stay happy.  As Aristotle said, "Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence."

Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf?

I’m not but I do have a “sort of” phobia.

According to the dictionary, the definition of a phobia is a “persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous.”  The word phobia is from the Greek “phobos” meaning “fear.”  Did you know all that?  I’m all about educating my readers!!

I have a mild version of Astraphobia.  I’m afraid of thunder and lightning.

While I’m not a psychiatrist, I won’t call it a true phobia because I don’t become so terrified that I can’t function.  But, I do some of the things that are considered symptoms of Astraphobia.  If it's an overnight storm I hide under the covers.  During daytime storms, I close the blinds and attempt to block out sounds of the storm (at home and at work).  Deep in my mind, I know I’m going to be fine but I am still afraid terrified.  I won't look out a window during a storm if I can avoid it because I do NOT want to see that lightening.  I've been on an airplane during a storm.  That was awful.  I actually felt like crying. 

When I was a little kid, if there was a storm my Mom had to come and sleep with me.  I was too afraid to be by myself.  She’d cram herself into my twin bed and stay with me until she was sure I fell back asleep.  If I couldn’t fall asleep she’d stay until it was over.  That poor woman.  I’m not sure how she managed to get up and go to work on the days after that happened.

I’m not so scared that I avoid going outside during storms but I’d rather not.  I do freak out when I’m driving and see a large flash of lightening.  I don’t want to see that!

Now you have more information about me than you needed wanted.  Just promise you won’t make fun of me.  That’d be mean.  You might cause me to develop Anthopophobia.

I'm addicted!

Hi, my name is Liz and I have a problem.  I need I’m addicted to social networking.

Did you read “1984” with Big Brother?  I’ve become Big Brother in reverse.

I’m a member of:  Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Foursquare, Flickr, Blogger (that's obvious since you are here reading about me!), and probably some I don’t remember signing up for. 

I check into places I’m visiting.  I text.  I blog.  I post pictures for the world to view.  I Tweet.  I Facebook my every move (well, not every move but most of them).  If someone wants to find me “keep an eye on" me (that means you, Government), I’m right out there helping them.

The problem is, I can’t stop.  I mean, who really cares about the gibberish I say on Twitter or Facebook?  Who cares what shops, restaurants, or businesses I’m visiting right now?  Who really cares what jokes I like or what products I use?  Who needs to see pictures of my cat?  No one!  While these things are certainly not important, they are FUN!  I enjoy using the applications and find them entertaining.  I actually get my news on Twitter much faster than I could ever get it on the radio or TV (or heaven forbid, a newspaper).  I. Just. Can't. Stay. Away.

To make things even more interesting, I’m actually in an all-out war on Foursquare right now. 

Angry and I visit a local restaurant and hang out in the bar.  Some weeks we are there three or four times.  We go often enough that we are Facebook friends with many of the employees there.  But, just so you don't think we are alcoholics, most weeks we only visit once. Honest!

When you check into a place enough on Foursquare, you become the mayor.  I’ve been mayor at this place for a long time.  There is a guy on Foursquare that keeps “stealing” my mayorship.  I looked him up on my phone’s app and he is mayor of 80 some places along one boulevard.  He must ride the bus and check in to every place it passes.  He’s mayor at a couple car part stores, at several nail salons, at a bakery, at two veterinarian offices, at two daycares, and at several car dealerships just to name a few.  He obviously cheats.  We know that he’s never been to “our” restaurant and I'm sure he isn't visiting two different vets or several different nail salons (how many manicures and pedicures can one guy get?). 

When he took my mayorship the first time, I was ticked off (don’t judge; I'll admit I’m a little crazy).  I don’t have any problems losing my mayorship to people that actually visit the place but I will NOT to someone who’s never been there!  It’s been a seesaw for a while.  I get my mayorship back and then he steals it robs me again.

Now I’ve become a cheater!  Damn, I’m as bad as this guy.  I sometimes check in at “my place” two times a day!  Angry has checked into a donut shop and stole this guy's mayorship even though we don’t go there.  And, I’ve asked my friends to check into various places that he’s currently mayor just to steal those from him as well.  Game on sucka!!

I guess he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with!!  Mwahahahaha . . .

Two peas in a pod?

I made split pea soup in my crockpot on Sunday.  We'll be having it for dinner tonight (pea soup needs to sit a few days to let the flavors merge).

Pea soup - the before shot.  That's not a volcano, it's a ham hock.

Pea soup - the after shot.  YUM!

That got me thinking about the fact that when I was a kid I hated detested loathed peas.  I'd spit them in my napkin and try to toss it out before my Mom could see me.  Once, I actually claimed I had to go pee during dinner and fell asleep on the toilet because I didn't want to go back to eat my peas.

I like peas now.  However, I prefer the mushy canned peas over the oddly colored frozen peas that don't look quite natural.  Is that green really a color?

But, I've always loved pea soup even as a kid.  How is that possible?

This blog post really has nothing to do with anything except to reconfirm the fact that I'm weird.

I always feel like somebody's watching me.

The building I work in has a security team and uses a lot of security cameras.  Many of the cameras are in areas around the elevators.

Yesterday, I was waiting for an elevator to get to the parking garage.  I yawned.  A huge yawn with my mouth wide open and that “yeeeaaww” noise.  I didn’t cover my mouth because I was the only one waiting for an elevator.

Suddenly, I realized that I was on camera.  I hoped no one at the security desk was watching!  They would have gotten a great view of the molars in my big mouth.  YIKES!  How ugly did my face look while that yawn was happening?

Then I started thinking. . . . What else have they seen over the 20 years I’ve worked here?

Have I scratched the side of my nose (the side not facing the camera) and they thought I was picking it?

Have I plucked a straying piece of underwear from my behind?  Like the pair that doesn’t start out as thongs but ends up there.

Have I rearranged an ill-fitting bra around my boobs?

Have I scratched in an uncivilized place like an armpit?

I suppose it’s too late to worry about all that now.  Although, I do wonder if they store those security videos somewhere.  That would make for some interesting programming.

If I do any of those things again, I’ll be sure to smile and wave at the camera when I’m done!

I can see you!

How to begin?

Yet another meme to let us list things from our blogs but also to show us how we’ve grown in the past year.  Or how silly we've been.

Take the first sentence from the first post of each month of 2011.  That’s your year in review.  Tattle on yourself with your link in the comments (I think you can do that!) if you tried it.

If you don't blog, just take a look to see what I've been up to in 2011.

January – Please don’t take any offense all you drunken sailors out there!

February – In the “Great Blizzard of 2011,” I didn't get to have to help Angry shovel.

March – Because I’m too damn lazy to write an actual blog post, I’m going to share this video with you.

April – As we head into Spring, I am seeing and hearing lots of commercials for lawn care services and products.

May – In my city (as I’m sure it is in yours), we have many people that drive their cars around with the music turned up way TOO LOUD.

June – I've never been afraid of bugs or worms.

July – Let’s talk about tattoos.

August – I was at my doctor’s office the other day.

September – This should be simple.

October – Angry and I went to see Bryan Adams on Friday for his "Bare Bones" tour.

November – I was on vacation in Mexico.

December – As I say in the "About Me" section, I love some good beer or tequila (and wine too).

Wow!  Talk about a strange mix.  I complained.  I talked about drinking.  I talked about myself a lot.  I was bossy.  Interesting. . .

Happy 1st Birthday!!

I’ve dedicated spent one year writing my blog.  It’s a bloggy birthday!

I started this as a fun project to write about things I’ve seen, things I’ve done, and things I have opinions about.  Maybe even some private snippets of my life (that I think won’t bore people to death!).

I’m not the funniest person on the planet but I hope that I make my readers laugh occasionally often (at a blog like this about a hair weave).  I’m not the smartest person in the world but I hope that my readers may learn something new (like this blog about the evilness of celery).  I’m not the prettiest gal in the world but I hope my readers . . . wait, what does that have to do with my blog?  I just hope that if you’ve stumbled in here, you’ll stay awhile and find some enjoyment from my musings.

I don’t get many comments.  I'm OK with that but I love the ones I do get!!  I try to reply as quickly as I can.  I hope that there are more readers out there that enjoy my blog but, for some reason, don’t want to comment.  That’s OK too; but please, don’t be shy.  I take both compliments and criticism well.  I also like you hear if you’ve had similar thoughts or similar things happen to you.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep blogging.  My goal is to just keep going for as long as I can come up with something to say.  Angry would tell you that I’m never at a loss for something to say so I may be doing this forever.

Happy Birthday to my Blog.  I think I’ll have a beer (or several) to celebrate.

A rose by any other name.

The name that is on my birth certificate is Elizabeth Margaret.  I was named after my Grandmothers.

If you look up Elizabeth in a baby name book, you will see that there are quite a few nicknames associated with it.  Go ahead and do it, I'll wait. . .  I find some strange.  Tibby?  Babette?  What does either of those have to do with Elizabeth?

Most people call me Liz.  Most.

I have a few other nicknames.  Let’s discuss. . .

Sassy – Angry started calling me this soon after we started dating (and still does).  Hmmm. .  . I wonder why?

Dolly – The story goes that Elizabeth was too formal a name for a baby.  Someone said to my Mom or Dad, “She looks like a little doll.” and the name Dolly stuck.  When my Mom was mad at me she never, ever called me Elizabeth.  She’d say “Dolly LastName, just what do you think you are doing?”  Or some such reprimand.  My family still calls me this and I’ve always been introduced to other people by them as Dolly.  Many of my Dad’s friends don’t know that that isn’t my real legal name.

Lizard – Who hasn’t called someone named Elizabeth by Lizard?  One friend calls me that regularly and believe it or not, I like it!  Not everyone can be a Lizard.

Lizilla – Just like Godzilla.  I was given this nickname when I worked with a group of stock traders.  I needed to be a tough bitch to talk to brokers on the stock exchanges.  I’ll be the first to admit that this fits me to a tee (look up tough bitch in the dictionary and you’ll see my picture).  Angry will use this when I'm in a menopausal rage.  It fits.  I’m thinking of getting this on a personalized license plate. 

Lizzie – This handle was also given to me while I was sitting on that trading desk (see Lizilla).  Everyone on the desk got a “y” sound at the end of their name.  Bobby, Stevie, Markey etc.  I don’t like to spell it with a Y so I spell it Lizzie.  The "big boss" at my company still calls me this.

Lizzie Lou – Not related to plain old Lizzie.  Long after our trading desk was removed from the firm, a coworker said she thought I looked like a Lizzie Lou.  Many years later and I’m still not sure what a Lizzie Lou looks like but that’s what she always called me.  Since it’s different and cute, I still use that for some of my screen names on the interwebs.  So, I guess it's only a nickname that I call myself.  Does that count?

No, I don’t get confused by having so many names.  I’ll answer to pretty much anything!

I wanna bitch about something.

As I say in the "About Me" section, I love some good beer or tequila (and wine too).

I don't have a drink every day but when I feel like it, I pop open a beer, pour a glass of wine, or have Angry make me a margarita (he makes a great one!).

Or, we visit our favorite local restaurant’s bar (and all our Facebook Friend bartenders) for Happy Hour.

I'm currently taking an antibiotic.  This antibiotic has a "severe" reaction to alcohol.  It is so severe that I can't even use mouthwash, cough syrup, or perfume.

Read that again. . . I can't put alcohol on. my. skin.

Needless to say, these 7 days that I’m on this medicine (and at least a couple of days after to let it work its way out of my system) suck.  Big time.

Like I said, I don't have a drink every day.  But since I know I can't, I've never wanted needed a beer so badly in my life.

Every time I go into the fridge those beer bottles are staring back at me as if they are daring me to open them.  I swear I heard “triple dog dare” last night as I was shutting the door.  I hate them right now.

Thanks for letting me bitch.  I hope I can survive until next Wednesday.  Wish me luck; I'm going to need it.

Thanks very much.

Thanksgiving is upon us once again.
 

I’m not sure if anyone cares but I'd like to tell you what I’m thankful for.

1.     I’m glad that my parents taught me:  right from wrong, to respect my elders, how to behave in public, how to treat others with respect, how not to judge a book by its cover, how to be honest, and many other things that make me a better person.

2.     I’m thankful that even though my Mom passed away in 1995, I feel like she’s with me every day.  That makes me stick to all the great things she taught me (see #1).

3.     I’m glad that my Dad is still around.  We drive each other insane constantly but I’ve sort of become his guardian since my Step-Mom passed away.  I’m glad for the opportunity to protect him when he needs it (she left him in quite a financial mess so he’s really needed it).

4.     I’m thankful to have great In-laws.  My Mother and Father-in-law treat me like their own daughter.  My Sister and Brother-in-laws are no different than if they’d been born in my family or me in theirs.  It’s nice to have another family to share good and bad times with.

5.     I’m glad that I have a great Step-Brother and a soon to be Step-Sister-in-law.  They are awesome people and so much fun to be with.  I only wish they didn’t live so far away.  I can’t wait to see them get married next year!

6.     I’m thankful that I have pets.  It’s great to be greeted at the door every night by my two goofball cats.  They want to be picked up and held and they want to sit on our laps.  They love us no matter what we look like or how silly we are.

7.     I’m glad that while I’ve been diabetic for 37 years, I’m in good health.  I’ve got healthy kidneys, healthy eyes, and am in great control even though I’m overweight and am not a perfect eater or blood tester.

8.    I’m thankful that I got to go to college for a good education and that I have a job.  That lets me own a car and a house.  I may have too much credit card debt but I can pay my bills and am working to lower that debt.

9.   I’m glad for the friends I have.  They are a joy to talk to, to shop with, to eat out with, to laugh and cry with, and to share old memories with.

10. I’m most thankful for Angry.  As I’ve said before (here and here), I can’t imagine my life without that man.  He’s my rock, my best friend, my life.  While neither of us is perfect, we are perfect for each other.  I’m glad to have had him in my life for 22 years and that we’ve had a very happy and fun filled marriage for 20 of those years.  I love him more than words can say and I look forward to many more years together.

There are many more things that I am thankful for.  I’m just too lazy to spend the day typing them all.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.  Don’t forget to think about what you are thankful for.

Did ya miss me?

I was on vacation in Mexico.  Hope someone actually missed me!!

I've got some blogs "in the works" so I'll be getting them posted as soon as I can.

Ouch! That hurt.

When my Mom and Dad rented the lower portion of a duplex from my Grandma, she became my day care (they moved in right after I was born).  It was a great arrangement and I loved spending that time with her as I was growing up.

My Grandma was a gardener extraordinaire. Our yard was filled with beautiful flowers and plants.  Her specialty was roses.  She loved them and spent many, many hours tending to her rose bushes.  They were incredible to see.  Even as a small child, I understood how special and beautiful they were.

I, as most young kids, had a swing set when I was about 4 or 5 years old.  I loved that thing and spent a lot of time on it.

The scene of the crime.

Something interesting happened one day.  I can remember it like it took place yesterday.

I was goofing around on one of the swings and I fell off backwards.  Into. A. Giant. Rose. Bush.

Ouch!  I tried to get out but every move I made hurt worse and worse as I got scratched and stabbed by thorns!  I was like a turtle that was upside down on its shell.  Picture my arms and legs flailing around with no way to get upright.

I started shouting, “Grandma!”  “Grandma!”  Over and over but she didn’t come for what seemed like forever.  In reality, it was probably more like a couple of minutes.

She finally came out the door and said “What’s up Honey?  I was on the phone with your Aunt.”  Suddenly, her eyes opened wide as she realized I was trapped in the rose bush.

I got yanked out and she spent the next few minutes plucking thorns from the back of my arms and legs.

Another non-deadly childhood mishap.  While it didn’t kill me, I did have a bunch of tiny scabs on my arms and legs for a while!

A very strong memory!

Just now, I was sitting in my office at work singing along to the radio.

The song was Billy Joel's "It's Still Rock And Roll To Me."  One of my favorite songs (and popular when I was a teenager).

Singing along to this song brought back a strong memory of using a cassette recorder to TAPE this song from the radio.  My BFF at the time and I would listen, and listen, and listen some more to try to figure out all the lyrics.  We'd scribble them down in a notebook and correct them until we were satisfied that we had them right.  Then, we'd play the tape over and over and sing along like we were rock stars.  I'm sure we were annoying as hell.

Let's see. . .

·       No CDs - You had to buy a cassette tape (or an album). If you were broke like we were, you taped most of your music off the radio. You’d spend a lot of time trying to do it without the DJ talking at the beginning or end of a song. 

·       No Walkman - Those things did come out right about that time but they were expensive. We did take the tape recorder outside to listen if we were in the back yard. That was our version of “music on the go.” 

·       No MP3 players - YIKES! That technology probably wasn’t even in anyone’s brain at that point. The Walkman was innovative for cripes sake. 

·       No Internet to download songs - You wanted music? You bought a cassette (or an album) if you had the money. Taping music from the radio was our version of Itunes or Napster. 

·       No Internet to look up lyrics - You got your lyrics from an album, cassette, or using the method I described above. That's where all the websites that show "mistaken" lyrics come from. We were guessing while listening to the radio all those years.

I just wrote about things that make me feel old.

This may just top that list!

Things that make me feel old.

I’m in my mid-40s.  I’m proud that I made it this far.  Since I’m in a happy place with my life, I’d like to make it at least as many more years.  I don’t consider myself old.  Old to me is when you are in your 90s.  When I hit that time in my life, I’ll think old is when you are 150.

Notwithstanding, there are things that make me FEEL old:

• Seeing the “you must be born on this date in 1990” calendars in bars.  Yikes!  You have to be born in 1990 to buy booze?  I had graduated college by then (and was already old enough to drink).  Damn.

• My calling CDs “albums.”  I always say, out of habit, “I love that new album by Bryan Adams.”  While vinyl albums are still produced, it seems that only collectors buy them.  I guess those fancy CDs are the new-fangled thing out today.

• Hearing songs that were popular when I was in high school on the Classic Rock station.  Classic Rock?  Isn’t that stuff like The Beatles, The Who, or The Rolling Stones?  You know, stuff that was made before I was born by artists that are older than dirt now.

• Seeing my oldest nieces become “adults.”  They turned 22, 19, and 17 this year.  How the hell did this happen?  The 22 year old was 2 when I got married.  The 19 year old was still in mommy’s tummy.  Slow the hell down you guys!

• Saying “those darn kids” about those darn kids who are hanging out in malls, in my neighborhood, etc.  We were at a local mall a while ago and some kids were shouting and pushing and shoving each other.  I said to Angry, “Those darn kids don’t know how to behave in public these days.”  Whoops, maybe I AM old?

• Having hot flashes.  They suck.  That’s all I need to say about that.

• Having to go to bed early.  I can remember staying up past 2 am several nights a week (if not every night).  I’d be able to get up and go to work the next day and feel just fine.  Now, I’m lucky if I can stay up past 9 pm and not feel like crap at work.  Hope I’m not missing too much!

I just threw this list together. I’m sure I could come up with a lot more stuff if I really thought about it. Maybe my mind isn’t working too well today. Isn’t that what “they” say? Something to the effect of, the mind is the first thing to go when you get old.  Hmmm. . .

How did I NOT get killed (or at least sustain an injury)?

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time with my cousins (remember, I was an only child).  We don’t speak anymore (maybe I’ll blog about that sometime) but back then, we were best friends.  We were together constantly.  All but one was older than me but we all considered ourselves pretty equal.  We played hard.  We probably almost killed ourselves many times and should have been, at the very least, maimed.

One of our favorite games to play was Kill The Guy Football.  We used a sidewalk as one end zone and a tree as the other.  If you somehow got possession of the football, heaven help you.  You ran as fast as you could and hoped to hell no one caught you.  If you were caught, you were subject to whatever they could come up with to remove that football from your hands.  That could include punching, kicking, hair pulling, tripping, elbowing the head or ribs, or knocking the person head over heels.  Often, we used several of those moves at the same time to get the ball.  If you were “lucky” and made it to an end zone that was just as painful.  Try diving face first onto a sidewalk and let me know how that works out for you!

Another favorite was Violence Basketball.  That game was basically the same as Kill The Guy except using a different ball.  This was often an indoor game (in the basement) so you had obstacles to navigate.  It was always a thrill to slam full speed into a washing machine or dryer.  Baskets of laundry were fun though because the clothes would fly all over and confuse your opponents.  You’d run for your life and hope that the “violence” wasn't going to be too painful.  You got caught hurt more often in this game because you had to were supposed to dribble the ball.

We also played Detective.  We’d be Starsky & Hutch, Baretta, Kojak, and occasionally the girls would be Charlie’s Angels (without a Charlie to boss us around).  Now, we were all “good guys” but we’d beat the hell out of each other to solve crimes.  Don’t ask me how that worked.  An arrest consisted of getting knocked to the ground and having someone sit on your back and pretend to put handcuffs on (while wrenching your arms backwards).  You’d hope to get caught on the grass and not on the sidewalk or in the alley.  Then, you were interrogated.  None of that bright light in your face from the detective shows, no way.  You'd get sprayed in the face with the hose or you were subjected to some sort of physical punishment until you confessed (to something).  Often, you’d get the nerve between your shoulder and your neck pinched.  Pinched real hard.

I’m not sure, as I look back now, how we survived.  Without broken bones.  Without concussions.  Without ever having to go to the ER.

We did survive.  And we had a blast doing it!

My Life as an Only Child

I'm an only child.  When I tell people that, I get some canned responses:

"Oh, you must be spoiled."
"Were you lonely with no one to play with?"
"I hear that only children are really creative."

Well, well, well.  Let me address these:
No.
No.
Not necessarily.

I was a honeymoon baby.  My parents weren't financially ready for a child but certainly made do.  They lived in an apartment that didn't allow children (can't do THAT anymore) so when my Grandma bought a duplex, we moved in and rented the downstairs.  My Grandma was my "daycare" and it was great.  She also cooked our meals as both my parents worked full time and my Mom was a pretty bad cook (I'm not saying anything she wouldn't have agreed with!).

Designer = Grandma. Dang, I was CUTE!

Spoiled?  Since my parents really didn't have a lot of money, I was NOT spoiled.  I did not want for anything but I didn't get a lot of extras.  Many of my clothes were homemade (by my Grandma). 

I had toys and games but a lot of those came from garage sales.  If I asked for something for my birthday or Christmas, I only got it if my parents could afford it.  I might hear that "Santa didn't have time to make that." or something similar.  I can't remember ever being disappointed.

Lonely?  Nope, not one bit.  I was outside all the time.  In those days, kids played outside.  I'd hang with the neighborhood kids and we'd play "Army" and "Cops and Robbers."  If the weather was bad, we'd go inside and play Monopoly, Life, or Sorry.

Creative?  Not me.  I can barely draw a stick man let alone paint or sculpt or design anything.  I have a hard time coming up with a dinner menu, let alone something artistic!  If you look up "creative" in the dictionary, my picture is shown as an antonym.  You'll have a hard time finding anyone less creative then me.  Being creative as a kid consisted of riding my bike if I couldn't think of anything to do.

I do have to admit something though (I have mentioned this before).  I do not share well.  Actually, I hate to share.  I'll do it, but reluctantly.  Even with Angry.  He's the best husband ever but if we are down to the last candy bar, I want the whole thing.  That's a side effect of being an only child.  I didn't have to share then; I don't wanna do it now!!  I will share the broccoli though!!

Did I hate being an only child?  No way!  I loved it.  I had my parents to myself.  I didn't have to fight anyone for the last piece of dessert.  I didn't have to share my bedroom with anyone.  I didn't have to share the phone with anyone as a teenager (I'm sure my parents would have liked to have used it once and a while though).  I didn't have a sister stealing my clothes or shoes.  I didn't have to call shotgun when going on a car ride.  I learned early on how to start a conversation at a party.

Only child = cool in my book.

It's time for the State Fair!!

Wisconsin has a really great State Fair and it’s right in my backyard.  No, not literally; it's a few minutes’ drive from my house.

This year, I'm going with my BFF, Weezy (not her real name, but that’s what I’ve called her for 26 years).  We are going on opening day which is next week! 

I know that State Fairs all over the country have foods on a stick and strange crazy adventurous foods.  We are going to eat like pigs!!  The plan is to buy one of everything we want to try and share it.  That way, we get to try more (and maybe get a little less fat).  The Fair’s website has a “Healthy Options” link in the food section.  OH. HELL. NO.

Here’s some of the stuff I’m planning to try.  Enjoy my list and don’t get too hungry (or jealous): 


Food On a Stick:

Cheddar Cheese – It’s Wisconsin people, cheese is our bidness.  We LOVE cheese and will eat this out of principle.  And any other cheese on a stick we can find.  Actually, any other cheese.

Country Fried Bacon with Country Gravy – Bacon calls to me.  It makes other food better.  This will be in my tummy.  Breakfast maybe?

Chocolate Covered Bacon – This was big at a lot of fairs last year.  I wasn’t at the fair last year.  I’m a day late and a dollar short but I’m trying it anyway.  Since everyone else ate some last year, I won’t have to wait in line.

Deep Fried Bacon Wrapped Hot Dog – Everything’s better with bacon.  Even lips and assholes.

Deep Fried PB&J – What’s not too like?  Peanut butter rocks.  Anything deep fried rocks.  Mix them together and you have bigger rocks a winner!  Plus, it’s on a stick.  Less mess or more mess?

Elvis (Deep Fried Peanut Butter Cup in Banana Batter) – Thank god they aren’t cooking the real Elvis.  That’s gross.  But this item sounds like pure heaven to me.

Macaroni & Cheese – On a stick?  I have to get this just to see how the hell they accomplish this feat.

Scallops – Weezy won’t eat seafood so this one’s all for me.  I’m eating it because I love scallops.  Yum.

Tropical Fruit Tempura (banana, mango and pineapple with powdered sugar and carmel, chocolate, or strawberry sauce) – I love good for you fruit covered in stuff that’s bad for you so I’m getting it.  Plus, it wins the award for item with the longest title.

Spaghetti & Meatballs – On a stick?  Again with the pasta on a stick?  I’m not a fan of this dish on a plate but we may have to try it to see how messy it is.

Cream Cheese with Bacon – Well, we’ve combined cheese and bacon.  What’s not to like?

Breaded Deep Fried Oysters – I’m on my own again.  Oysters are definitely a no-go for Weezy.  I love the little sonsabitches though so I’m getting some!


“Crazy” Food Not On a Stick:

Deep Fried Beer – I love beer and I gotta see how they do this.  So, why not?

Deep Fried Butter – Oh hell yes!!  I’ve read that this is more like a biscuit filled with butter.  Still gonna be great!

Chocolate Covered Fritos – This one, I’m a little unsure about.  I love a sweet and salty mix but Fritos are not the same as a pretzel.  I’m probably gonna try it anyway, just to say I did.

Bacon Sundae (vanilla ice cream, pancake syrup, and real bacon bits) – Another food item made better by bacon.  I may not share this one with Weezy!!

Needless to say, they are many, many more choices than these.  This stuff sounds different and cool.  I’ll be the cool kid on the block if I eat this stuff, right?  We’ll see if I explode by the end of the day.  We plan to arrive when they open at 8 am.  The fair closes at 11 pm.  That is a whole lotta eatin’ time.


But we aren’t going JUST to eat. 

There will be shopping.  As their website states, “It’s like an infomercial came to life.”  I wonder what “As Seen on TV” item will be the hot seller this year?  What will I get suckered into buying?

Then there are the animals.  Weezy’s a farm kid and she now has a “hobby” farm.  That means she’s still a farm kid.  We’ll be perusing the cattle barn, the swine barn, the sheep barn, and most importantly, the chickens.  She wants to see all the chickens. 

We’ll have a busy day.  We’ll eat too much.  We’ll probably get sunburned.  We might get blisters.  We’ll buy some junk.  We’ll have a great time.

I can’t wait!!

PS - Edited so that I can point you to the reason that I won't be spending any time at the Midway riding crazy rides. 

IS it unhealthy?



I have an unhealthy obsession.  But what defines "unhealthy?"  Maybe it's just an obsession.

I’m madly  in love with in lust with Mike Rowe.  You know, the Dirty Jobs guy?

He’s totally sexy (man oh man).  He has a great voice (he was an opera singer for heaven’s sake).  He wears his jeans (Lee) perfectly.  He's an animal lover.  I could go on and on.

The calf is ALMOST at cute as Mike (almost).

I realize that I have a lot of competition.  I've seen many blogs and articles here on the interwebs stating how "hunky," "sexy," "dreamy," and "hot" he is.  That's OK.  Mike and I are on a first name basis because I've had some really nice dreams about him.

What's that Mike? You'll meet me in the bedroom? I'll be right there!

His Discovery Channel bio states that he’s “single (but taken).”  As long as he’s not married, it's game on.  He’s just a bit older than me which is good because I’m usually goo-goo-gaa-gaa over some young baseball player who’s almost young enough to be my kid.

Angry knows all about this as I don’t keep these thoughts to myself.  We watch Dirty Jobs and the dirtier Mike gets, the more I like him.  I’m usually making comments like, “Oh wow, he looks yummy.” or  “They should show how he cleans up after the job.”   

Yummy! Dirt never looked so good.

Angry said that if I could  trick Mike into persuade Mike to marry me, he'd give me a divorce.  On one condition though; I'd have to pass some of Mike’s money on to him.  HA!  I’m not quite sure how that’d work but I’ll think about it.

I know that my chances to land him are slim to none (actually just plain "none").  I believe it’s called unrequited love lust.  But a girl can dream can’t she?

Oh hell yeah, I'd pick that hitchhiker up!

I’m thinking of buying a Ford.  Maybe he can come to my house to film a commercial.  Hmmm. . .