I’ve been out of sorts lately. Nothing major or unpleasant, just a bit of a dull spot. I wasn’t bored, or unhappy…and when I tried to put my finger on the unsettled feeling I realized what it really was. Sequin shortage. When I feel that way I know that it must be time for another pageant. My tiara tank is on empty and it’s time for an evening of gowns and interviews. I need to see sparkling jewels, three point turns, and Breck girl hair. Raise your hand if you wanted to be a Breck girl. I did. I was ready, willing, and able to pose if they ever developed a shampoo for large, frizzy hair. But back to the sequin shortage. Some people have a sixth sense that alerts them to danger or impending doom. Some have gut feelings that lead them to place winning bets on horses. I have ESPP. Extra Sensory Pageant Perception. We’ve had a full, happy schedule lately and yet something was missing. Yesterday afternoon I was out in the chicken coop refilling the hen’s water and telling them how pretty they are, when out of the blue I thought “Isn’t it time for a pageant?” As tempting as it was to put sashes and crowns on the chickens, I passed. Mentally backtracking through the year past Miss Universe and Miss America…and realized that YES, it’s time for Miss USA! Remember last year they juggled the schedule a bit and things got out of order? You don’t remember? Because you have a life? Well, I remember and it means that we’re DUE. Of course I raced inside and checked the Miss USA website and lo and behold, it’s Sunday night! I haven’t done my research! I haven’t planned a menu (dang it, I should have waited to make that zebra striped cake), and I haven’t picked a favorite. When I informed Mickey that the Miss USA pageant is looming he responded, “Oh, that’s the hoochie one.” Sadly, it has become a bit (okay, a lot) less dignified and respectable since Mr. Trump took over. Go figure. Still, there will be breathtaking gowns and shimmering diamond tiaras and I will be watching. I’m running low on sparkle.
Yesterday was busy and I hardly got near the computer, so this birthday post is a day late. I did send my brother a happy birthday text yesterday morning & he responded that it was indeed a happy day because he was fishing. Doesn’t take much more than a sunny day and a fishing pole to make him content. At the tender age of 51 (as I get closer it seems so young) he’s worn many hats in his life. For a few years in his youth he was a military man, he’s driven trucks, worked in heating & cooling (mostly cooling - he’s in Florida), and settled into his role as a mail carrier in a beach town. He’s raised two children without killing either one and maintained his sense of humor throughout. I could say he’s been an exotic dancer and traveled with the circus because he doesn’t read this silly blog, but that would be the sort of thing that a pesky little sister would do. And I’m not little anymore. Just pesky.
My brother has worn each hat well. He has always, always worked hard and devoted himself to his family. Whether he was dressed in desert camo or the blue of the postal service, the role he relished was “Dad”. Like any job, if you do well you get promoted…and that’s why this guy, who likes to act tough and gruff, finds himself putty in the hands of two little girls who call him Grandpa.
I’d say he’s landed the role of a lifetime. So happy birthday, dear brudder. I hope that all of your days are filled with fishing poles and giggling girlies. Be happy.
I’m not a gal who wants a bunch of stuff. Sure, I’m always knee deep in books, because I consider that brain food and as necessary as any other sort of nutrition. But I don’t yearn for jewels or clothes or shoes or anything bigger, newer, or better than what I already have. Until I saw this.
Oh. my. word.
I love it.
I know as much about vehicles as I know about Algebra, which means not much. But I do know that this is a 1959 Chevrolet 3100 Apache…..and it’s beautiful. I’m always saying that I need a truck for hauling plants, animals, and various and sundry treasures that I find and have no way to transport. This darling truck would be my best friend. I’d name her something wonderful like Lurlene or Maisy. We’d go on adventures together. And she’s PINK. It’s just a pipe dream - this truck is in Nevada and Mickey doesn’t like it nearly as much as I do. They’re asking just $12,500 for this beauty, but I probably won’t find that under the sofa cushions. I’ll just keep my eyes peeled for a Lurlene look-alike in our area and hope that the time and price is right. No rush.
Ain’t she a beauty?
Today was a perfectly fine day. Mickey made it home late last night after a close call. Due to a late inbound flight he nearly had to stay in Detroit overnight. He’s got nothing against Motown, but after a full and busy week the poor guy just wanted to get home. All’s well that ends well and he made it. I usually wait for him on a hill at the airport. Lots of people park there to wait for flights because it sure beats parking and wandering around in the terminal. There’s even a big screen there with current flight information.
Although Mickey’s flight showed an on time arrival, it didn’t quite make it. So he came in about fifteen minutes late and then they were in no hurry to toss bags on the carousel. So an 8:45 arrival turned into a 9:30 pickup. And I really had to use the restroom. I tried to ignore the urge and put it out of my mind….and I sat and waited…and then the landscape sprinklers came on. Torture.
We had to stop at a gas station on the way home. Why am I telling you this?
Let’s just fast forward to Saturday. The weekend dawned hot and sunny so the mister got right outside to mow. It’s got to be done early or late to avoid the worst heat. I can’t tell you how glad I am that he’s home to do it! We shared breakfast, tidied up, and made a grocery run. Then we popped into Home Depot where I adopted some pink impatiens to fill the seat of my little garden chair. Mickey fixed the cracking rungs so they’re sturdy and it’s ready to hold blooms all summer. The poor girls I chose were from the “has been” rack. They look a little peaked and weak, but once they’re in rich soil and shown a little love they’ll bounce back. Then they’ll thank me in blooms.
I spent quality time in the dirt today, and I must say that it never gets old. I still marvel at the fact that you can drop a seed in a cup full of dirt, then stick it in the ground after the last frosty night of spring…and in no time at all you’ll have curly cucumber vines climbing a trellis…
sporting blossoms that promise a summer harvest.
Those itty bitty tomato plants that I stuck in the ground are three feet tall and covered in blooms as well. If all goes well, I’ll be picking beautiful German Queens sooner rather than later.
Speaking of blossoms, these Calla Lilies were a wonderful addition to the fairy garden. I’m in love with them. Aren’t they graceful?
I want to be a Calla Lily when I grow up.
The day wore on and I eventually had to wash the dirt off and make myself respectable. Mickey was ready to fire up the grill and cook some bratwurst and I had to do my part. One shower, a broccoli salad mixed up and refrigerated, and some baked beans later…I decided to break all of our rules and make a cake. I can’t help myself, it’s been so long. I don’t want cake to think I don’t love it anymore. Besides, I’d seen ”zebra cake” all over Pinterest and I wanted to give it a whirl. Behold…stripey cake!
I know, I know… horrible pictures and color combination. What can I say? It was after 8 o’clock when I snapped those and I’m not worth much after 8 o’clock. Still, it’s a cake with zebra stripes! I don’t know why that makes me so happy. I had canned chocolate frosting so that’s what I used. It doesn’t look so great but this was just a trial run. Can you just imagine this cake with hot pink frosting for a little girl’s party? Or even better, GREEN icing for a safari birthday party? FUN! It couldn’t have been easier to make. Using your favorite white cake recipe, divide it and add cocoa powder to one half to make it chocolatey (I’ll post the recipe below). Prepare your pans and then just start alternating the colors….a dollop of white, then a dollop of chocolate right on top, the repeat. Each layer causes the previous ones to spread in the pan. The recipe suggested using 3 tablespoons per dollop, but I just used a quarter cup which is actually 4 tablespoons. It was easier and the world didn’t end. Besides, I wanted my stripes big and bold.
That picture is from Pinterest, I was too busy dolloping to snap any photos - but this gives you an idea of how quick and easy it is. I didn’t have that many rings.
Here’s the recipe. You can also use a cake mix, but you might have to adjust the liquids for a slightly thinner batter so it will spread nicely.
Zebra Cake
(Source: Baking Bites)
Serves 10
4 large eggs
1 cup sugar
1 cup milk
1 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/8 tsp almond extract
2 cups all purpose flour
1 tbsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt
2½ tbsp cocoa powder
Preheat oven to 350F. Line a 9-inch round cake pan with a circle of parchment paper and lightly grease the bottom and sides of the pan (yeah, whatever - spray it with Baker’s Joy).
In a large bowl, mix together eggs and sugar until mixture is light and creamy and the sugar has mostly been dissolved. Stir in milk, vegetable oil, vanilla and almond extracts.
In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder and salt. Pour into wet ingredients and whisk to combine. Measure out just over two cups of vanilla batter and place it back in the medium bowl. Sift cocoa powder over the bowl and whisk until fully incorporated.
Put 3 tbsp of vanilla batter into the center of the pan and let it spread slightly on its own. Put 3 tbsp of chocolate batter in the center of the vanilla. It will push out the other batter and, as it sits for a moment, will also spread itself. Alternating spoonfuls of the two batters, repeat the technique until all the batter has been used up.
Bake for 35-40 minutes, until the cake is light gold and a tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.
Then eat ZEBRA CAKE! Okay, perhaps I’m easily amused. Or maybe I was just really excited about eating CAKE. I don’t know if you’ve caught on yet, but I don’t diet well. Shocked? Then I probably shouldn’t tell you that the whole time that Mickey and I have been low carbing I’ve had a bag of emergency peanut M & M’s hidden behind a sack of flour. I just like to know that they’re there if I need them. Like an epi pen. Or nitroglycerin tablets. Don’t think for a minute that my relationship with chocolate isn’t a life or death thing. So, I caved and made this cake and after we grilled brats we dove into it like drunken sailors on leave. I’m not sure I even know what that means. Now the beast inside has been satisfied (just one piece!) and I have a cake in the house. What’s the etiquette on giving away a cake with two pieces missing?
It would help me a lot if you’d all come over and have a slice of cake. Hurry.
That’s me. It’s stupid hot already and summer is just getting started. On a positive note, the humidity is hovering around 50% so it’s not as muggy as it could be and my hair is not overly large. Though there’s something in the air to which I’m apparently allergic and it makes me short of breath. I don’t suffer from allergies the way that so many people around here do, in fact it only flares up once or twice a year and only for a few days. I don’t know what’s blooming or drifting that causes me to talk like Marilyn Monroe (without the pout or the beauty mark ,mostly just the breathless thing…..okay,maybe it’s more like Lassie panting ) but it’s not worth going through the whole doctors, tests, pills,inhalers, and shots routine. It’s not ongoing. I swear,it will be over in less than a week. It’s more ofan inconvenience than an illness. Just know that if you get an obscene phone call, it’s probably me. Much to my eldest son’s chagrin I often use alternative forms of treatment for ailments. If I have a choice between seeing a doctor or sleeping with a turnip under my pillow and a penny under my tongue, I’m probably going turnip shopping. Honestly, the body is a pretty amazing machine and I have an awesome immune system, it’ll do what needs to be done. My neti pot works wonders and more often than not I find that good old-fashioned sweat helps too. Yesterday I decided to forget about my breathing and get outside and workup a sweat. By the time I trimmed a bunch of branches from trees, tidied up the fairy garden, and raked the chicken coop - I felt great! Sure, I looked like a cave woman and had to pull a tick off my side, but the sunshine and sweat felt so good. Who knows, maybe the more exposure I have to the mystery allergen the fewer breathless days I’ll have (I’m going to get a call from Matt about that). Besides, if I hide indoors feeling puny then I’d miss stuff like this…
A busy, little Lady Bug making her way across a blue hydrangea ready to burst into bloom. Now that’s the sort of thing that leaves me breathless.
I don’t have a darn thing to write about tonight. I’ve been sticking close to the homestead and getting things done around the house. I did go out and meet a sweet friend for lunch today and it was good for both of us. The menu was tempting and the conversation was fulfilling. I returned home and changed clothes so that I could spray another coat of paint on my Mother’s Day chair. That thing has been drinking the paint but I think it’s ready now. While I wielded the can of paint, Huckleberry romped in the clover. It was sort of a nervous romping because he’s terrified of bees. I’m assuming he met the business end of one at some point because he freaks out and runs if he even hears the buzz. I’ve even seen him jump twice in the house when the dryer buzzed. It’s going to be a long summer for him.
The mister returns late tomorrow night only to jet out again Monday morning. He’s in demand. I’ll have to spoil him while he’s home. I’ll say those three little words that thrill him….”Take a nap.” I’ll feed him good and love him up before he dashes back into the rat race. I try to feel sorry for him but he loves it. Turns out that a workaholic is the perfect companion for a hermit. He runs around putting out corporate fires and I count fireflies. He spent his day making sure that a multi-million dollar contract didn’t go awry. I spent a half hour listening to a whippoorwill and watching Huck chase a beetle. Somehow it works. I slow him down and he keeps me on my toes.
I’m hardly on my toes at the moment. In fact, it’s past time for me to be horizontal. My eyelids are heavy and tomorrow is barbell day at the pool. Better get my beauty sleep so I can keep up! See? I told you I didn’t have anything of interest to share. Time for me to shove the hound out the door one last time & tell the whippoorwill goodnight. Sweet dreams, dear ones ~ more tomorrow. *yawn*
We like to get the flavor of a city by visiting what they’re most proud of….historical sites, festivals, etc. Cincinnati has markers like this..
The Ohio River flows through Cincinnati and it was a hub of activity for the Underground Railroad. There’s a big museum called The Freedom Center that tells that story and more, but it’s closed on Mondays. Darn it. http://www.freedomcenter.org/
We thought that perhaps we’d check out Findlay Market. Operating in Cincinnati since 1855, it’s a huge public market where you can find everything from figs to fabric. The list of merchants is impressive and it seemed like a great place to spend a portion of our day and grab an interesting lunch. But it’s closed on Mondays. Anyone else seeing a pattern in this town? http://www.findlaymarket.org/merchants/
I won’t bore you with all of the places we didn’t get to go, Here’s where we went.
The Cincinnati Museum Center at Union Terminal! It’s gorgeous.The art deco train station was opened in 1933 and I can just imagine the stories it has to tell. Upon entering you’re immediately dazzled by the mosaics surrounding the massive lobby.
The work of German-born artist Winold Reiss, the mosaics were commissioned in 1932to tell the history of the city.
The timeline flows from founders to the booming railroad age which made the terminal necessary. In the background you can see transportation grow from covered wagons to riverboats to trains and planes. The land merges farms with bustling cities. It’s incredible when you consider that it’s the work of one man and millions of small tiles.
It’s such a beautiful building, and so full of history. Travel used to be so glamorous. Now we see people boarding planes in their pajamas carrying a bag of greasy burgers. Ugh.
And what do you suppose the main exhibit was at this crown jewel of Cincinnati’s past? What else? ”A Day in Pompeii”. Yep, there was a visiting exhibit from The Museum of Naples. It was fascinating. It was arranged to take you through a typical day in Pompeii. Ancient artifacts, jewels, coins, and the horrible-but-amazing body casts that tell the tale of what people were doing when Vesuvias erupted and buried the city in ash. I was floored by the artistry entwined in every part of their lives in 79 AD. Beautiful,big alabaster jugs carved from single blocks - that held everything from olive oil to wine. The amazingly innovative cook tops and plumbing, and the sheer beauty of everything they touched - every item handcrafted. It was quite an exhibit, a perfect mixture of history and science.
http://www.cincymuseum.org/pompeii
Icky fact: Guess how the central laundry kept the whites white in Pompeii? Ammonia. Not just any ammonia (since they couldn’t just go buy a bottle),but urine. Indeed. Clothes were submerged in vats of urine where slaves stomped on them. Then they were rinsed again and again in perfumed water so that the wearer could enjoy sparkling white,but not stinky,clothing. I’m sure you’re wondering where they got enough urine to fill vats. I was. Seems that great big jugs lined the walls outside the laundry building and passers-by who felt the urge were encouraged to donate. Pardon me for just a sec while I go kiss my Maytag.
Anyway, we thoroughly enjoyed our trip through the museum before heading back over to Main Strasse for a late lunch. I have another dozen pictures from that, but I really need to move on to the reason for our visit in the first place…THE GAME. I love baseball. Love it. I love baseball weather, I love the crack of the bat,I love singing “Take Me Out to Ballgame” during the 7th inning stretch, I love diving catches, stolen bases, and a fast ball that pops in the catcher’s mitt. Walt Whitman once said, “I see great things in baseball. It’s our game, the American game. It will repair our losses and be a blessing to us.” I believe that to be true.
So we caught the $1 trolley from our hotel and zipped right over the bridge to The Great American Ballpark.
Is there anything better than a baseball game on a summer night? Yep - good seats at that game. We arrived early, around 5:30, so we could catch batting practice…and that’s when I found out that our seats were right behind the visiting team’s dugout. Holy moley! When you’re the visitor on a Monday night,you can get good seats!
Hey,look! It’s Braves legend Terry Pendleton running batting practice! Eeep!
And there’s Eddie Perez!
Chipper Jones was on the DL, so we didn’t get to see him play. Darn. That’s okay, his replacement was Juan Francisco who hit the only Braves home run of the night. In fact, it was their only run of ANY sort all night. They played like their Gatorade was drugged. My Braves, who were in first place in the National League East, dropped two games to the stinkin’ Reds and dropped back by half a game. Did I hate that? You bet. But did I love being at the game? Every single minute. Mickey has a bunch of great action shots which I’ll share when he sends them to me. I told him that I’m going to write a letter to the Braves organization letting them know that I understand that you win some and you lose some, but I didn’t drive nearly five hours,spend two days in Cincinnati, and fork over money for tickets and sundries only to watch them act like a bunch of lollygaggers. They weren’t even hustling on and off the field. Unless they’ve all come down with swine flu I expect to see a spring in their step and some hot bats. If they give 100% and lose, there’s no shame in that. But on Monday night I wanted to bang on the top of the dugout and shout the question posed by Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez ,”Anyone who wants to be a can’t-hack-it pantywaist who wears their mama’s bra, raise your hand!” That’s from”Sandlot”, only one of the best movies ever.I would have taken the pitcher out a lot sooner too. Perhaps before he gave up the last two home runs. Oddly enough, they didn’t ask me. Probably because I was busy calling balls and strikes for the ump. He really didn’t even need to be there, I had it under control. But in the end we ran out of innings and came up short on runs. While the Reds were shooting off fireworks to celebrate their victory, we made tracks to the trolley stop and found it waiting for us just as the rain arrived. Only sprinkles, but the timing was perfect. In less than five minutes were were dropped back at our hotel. The trolley was the best value of the trip - no fighting traffic,no $15 parking at the ballpark, and front door service. All for a buck!
This post has dragged on far too long, and if anyone is still awake after reading this far I owe you big time. I’ll continue this saga tomorrow, but will wrap this up by saying that we enjoyed an uneventful trip home, picked up the hound from Hogwarts, and Mickey is already off on a plane to South Carolina. I’m settled in again here at Derfwad Manor. The hens are happy to see me, the dawg is snoring, and I’m looking forward to water aerobics in the morning and perhaps a dadgum Braves victory this week. That’s it. Back to normal. I love normal.
We’re on the road again! Mickey can’t stay in one place for long and as his co-pilot, where he goes I go. Today we locked up the house, dropped the hound at Hogwarts, and pointed the car toward Cincinnati.
We listened to NPR and I watched the scenery go whizzing past. Mickey isn’t a big talker in the car. Or ever.
The billboards were not very interesting.
But the some of the cargo was.
Bet Mr. Ford never thought we’d be zipping along at 70 mph in climate controlled vehicles listening to radio shows beamed via satellite.
As we moved from the rolling hills of Tennessee through the rolling hills of Kentucky, the scenery was pleasant.
I almost missed that one - I was busy shouting out the answers to the “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” news quiz.
This one didn’t escape my notice and I have to tell you, I was tempted.
We didn’t stop and I may always regret it. We steamed ever northward, and after more than four hours of this…
we finally saw THIS!
Yippee! Our hotel was a cinch to find. Right on the river, across from the ballpark where we hope to see the Braves whoop up on the Reds tomorrow. We checked in and went up to our room.
Mickey always requests a high floor and one of the first things I do is check out the view to get the lay of the land and see what we can get into around the hotel. Guess what I saw?? Some sort of festival about a block from our hotel. Festivals mean music and food - I’m in! We dropped our bags and decided that we’d check it out and search for our dinner. I can’t begin to tell you how happy I was to find out that we had arrived smack dab in the middle of “Maifest on Mainstrasse”. Seems that we’re just a block away from Mainstrasse, a historic German neighborhood, and they’re busy welcoming spring. I took as many pictures as I could of the beautiful old neighborhood and the celebration, but my battery was low and I didn’t get as many as I wanted. Darn it.
This photo courtesy of Mickey Pullen
There were lots of beautiful, old houses with a Bavarian flair…
cobbled streets…
iron gates…
and a truly wonderful neighborhood having a grand time.
I loved the fountain in the square! She’s called The Goose Girl.
There was no shortage of music, food , or fun.
They were even playing corn hole in the street!
We walked up and down and all around (perfect after sitting in the car for four hours!), listened to some tunes, and eventually filled our bellies. What a great way to end the day! We walked the block back to around 8:30, but the festival was still going strong. Those Germans know how to party.
Tomorrow is open for exploring before we head to the ballgame around 5 o’clock. I’m sure we’ll find something interesting and fun to do. Looks like there might be a few rain clouds trying to move in on us, so I’m going to wish them away. I don’t mind sticking a poncho in my purse and waiting out a rain delay at the game. I came to see some baseball and dadgum it I’m going to see some baseball!
I’ll be right back here tomorrow to let you know how it all turns out. Don’t go anywhere. Time for me to polka around the room one more time and then crawl under the covers with a book. Oom pa pa!
“Beauty is something you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes. It is not something physical.” ~ Sophia Loren
True. But mascara helps. A lot. A dab or two of concealer and a hint of blush won’t hurt either. Natural beauty is great if you’ve got it, but if you don’t…step into my parlor. I can help. I’ve been playing with makeup for as long a I can remember. From the first swipe of a tiny Avon tester lipstick I was hooked. I remember gazing at Lisa’s false eyelashes and frosty lipstick on “Green Acres”, and don’t even get me started on Dean Martin’s Gold Diggers. I hoarded allowances to buy eye shadow and shimmery lip gloss so I could look more like Cher. Marcia Brady was not my goal, I wanted full on GLAMOUR. My love of pots and tubes of color and shine has never wavered. Imagine my delight upon landing my first airline job to read that lipstick was required. A match made in Heaven! Over the decades I have painted and powdered and primped, not out of vanity, more like an ongoing craft project. I see a bare face like canvas or an empty room - crying out for decoration. Just the right amount of color in just the right places can make all the difference! And that’s why this month is a favorite time of year. It’s prom time, folks. Over the years I’ve done a happy dance every time my phone would ring and a neighborhood girl would ask if I’d do her prom makeup. YES!YES!YES! I’ve colored on the faces of my boys’ friends, sometimes their dates, and the girls next door. I always send them off with a few supplies to keep - maybe just a lip gloss, or an eye liner that’s perfect for them (I wouldn’t exactly call myself a pusher…although the right blush is akin to a gateway drug). Over the years the girls we’ve known have grown up and away. No more proms at our house. There was an awful makeover drought. But a few days ago the doorbell rang and the last little girl from next door, Kaitlyn, was on the porch. When she uttered the words, “Miss Nancy, I was wondering if you’d do my makeup for prom…” I wanted to grab her and kiss her. Maybe I did. She’s a tall, tan, brunette with brilliant blue eyes - she’s already a masterpiece. I’m just going to frame that masterpiece. With relish! She’s the same little girl who bounced on our trampoline and pitched a fit when the bigger kids left her out of their games. She’s coming over tomorrow afternoon and we will laugh and chat before I send that beautiful girl off for a magical night at prom. *sigh* I love that. I’m delighted that I get to be a small part of her special day. Won’t be long before she’s off to college and this is just another page in her scrapbook. The years have flown by, but I’m leaving my mark….oh sure, it’s made in eyeliner, but it’s still there.
If you’re at a store and a cashier says “strip down facing me”, she’s talking about your credit card. How embarrassing.
I lost a couple of days somewhere this week. How did we end up at Thursday already? Is that a sign of senility? Can’t be. I’ve done this since I was a kid. I guess I just got too wrapped up in cloud gazing and gardening. I don’t consider that wasted time.
I’ve also been dressing that naked chair I received for Mother’s Day. It’s going to take weeks to finish and that makes me so darn happy! Mickey will be traveling for the next five weeks, dropping in just to date me on the weekends. So having an ongoing art project will keep me off the streets and out of trouble (said the woman who attends senior water aerobics). It took me quite a while to decide on a base color for the chair. I waffled back and forth between sophisticated and whimsical - before finally just picking a color that my eyes went to again and again. I think it’s called Ocean Breeze or something like that. It’s a bright, light turquoise and I loooove it. I’ve selected a deeper turquoise, an apple green, bright pink, purple, white, and shimmery gold for embellishments. I’ve been pulling up paisley patterns for inspiration..
Something slightly less ornate than the first, and fancier than the second would be ideal. Pretty sure I can combine the two. I can free hand it…what could possibly go wrong? Remind me later that I said that.
Anyway, this chair has received a first coat (more to come)….
and will over the next few weeks will be receive a heaping helping of these colors.
Oops, I left out the gold. I’m starting to think I may need a darker pink. I don’t like that bubble gum color. I’ve got big plans for that chair, and I don’t want t screw it up. I’ll keep you posted with updates - I know you’ll be on the edge of your seats.
Speaking of seats, we’ve got some pretty good ones for a Braves game on Monday night. Sunday after breakfast we’ll drop Huckleberry at Hogwarts and toodle up to Cincinnati . It’s just over 4 hours away and there’s plenty to do there. We took the boys for a couple of days once and thoroughly enjoyed their awesome zoo and the very cool Union Terminal Museum. That’s where we watched a great IMAX movie about the harrowing Shackleton expedition, but that’s a whole other story. We’re heading up there for BASEBALL! The forecast looks perfect for an evening game on Monday - if you watch I’l be the gal with the sign that says HEY BATTA BATTA SUH-WING BATTA! Just kidding, Mickey probably wouldn’t sit with me if I brought a sign. I’d better just put it on a shirt. He’s gonna be so proud.
That sweet man o’mine is locking doors and turning off lights which is almost always followed by, “You ready for bed, sweetie?” We are such creatures of habit. I’ll put the dog to bed and then check all of the doors that he just locked. I don’t know why. It’s not like there are marauding bands of outlaws in the area. Our biggest threat is probably raccoons. Well, we don’t want them getting in either. So I’ll bid you goodnight and sweet dreams, and go fortify the house against any wildlife that may have mastered door knobs.
Yesterday morning I fed the mister and then took off to dunk myself at the Jimmy Floyd Family Life Center. The sky looked ominous. And I absolutely love that.
Here’s what it looked like leaving our neighborhood -
and it got even darker.
As I reached the interstate it looked like the clouds were sitting right on the road. Spooky.
I buzzed toward Lebanon and the storm appeared to be traveling away from us. In fact it brightened up enough for me to notice that Home Depot’s lawn and garden center was doing a brisk business. I felt I needed to be there.
But I continued to my destination because the water aerobics party can’t start until I get there.
I pulled up to a red light just in time to see this.
Them Possum Town folks is a rowdy bunch. Possum Town is an area of Wilson County that is fairly rural. In fact Jerry Mcfarland, one of several self-proclaimed Mayors of Possum Town, says “ As defined by an 1891 newspaper, the Mt. Juliet Record, Possum Town lies in the area of Wilson County between Barton’s Creek and Spring Creek, going north to the Cumberland River and south to Coles Ferry Pike.” I think they have a real mayor, but you’d have to ask Eula Mae Williams, Possum Town’s news correspondent. Seriously. They also have a popular Christmas parade, where you’ll see sights like this.
There’s a whole lot of fun going on in Possum Town. No wonder they’re proud enough to sport bumper stickers.
Making this long and pointless story even longer, I arrived at the pool under skies that looked like they just might be clearing.
I spent a happy hour with Shirley and the girls (and a couple token males) and got a good workout. I always stay another hour and either swim or “water jog”. Mostly the jogging because that’s when we talk. Last week I put my foot in my mouth (I know, you’re shocked) when one of the ladies announced “Margaret’s husband is up at Sellars.” There were clucking sounds and lots of “Oh, I’ll have to call her” remarks, but it didn’t sound bad. I don’t know where Sellars is , so I asked “What’s he doing up there?” And I was met by silence. That’s when I found out that Sellars is a funeral home. Kim, one of my smart aleck pals, mumbled “Probably just layin’ around” (say that in a southern drawl and it’s funnier). Of course I apologized all over the place, but in my defense that’s really no way to announce that someone has died. What’s wrong with “Margaret’s husband passed away” or the more popular “Margaret’s husband has gone on to his greater reward”? Those I understand. You know I was itchin’ to ask if he had a nickname so I could look for his obituary. Oh, like you don’t read them looking for people you know.
Anywayyyy…after getting good and waterlogged I put myself back together and hit the road for home. The bad weather had drifted on by and the sun was peeking out of the clouds. Seemed like my car had a mind of its own because it just wouldn’t drive past Home Depot.
They followed me home. I swear.
The little pink Vinca was just a dollar per six pack! I had a spot in the fairy garden that the lavender Angelonia would love….and that Peony was really a rescue, it looked like it might be getting root bound in that little pot. It was a life or death decision! I drove these beauties home, telling them how much they’d love their new digs. I think they perked up. I pulled into Olivia Court and after sharing lunch with Mr. Pullen I got busy giving those lovely ladies room to stretch their legs. Heaven! Getting dirty is good for the soul. I believe that. Sweat is cleansing and dirty hands just mean that you did something. So a gloomy Monday morning turned into an absolutely beautiful afternoon. Life’s like that, isn’t it? Don’t worry about the clouds, they’ll pass. And even if they don’t they’ll add color to the sunset. Just get busy making things better and the sun will eventually come out.
That’s some Possum Town philosophizing right there. You’re welcome.
Finally, a recipe that I can recommend with all my heart! I just ate it and I want it again. Mickey gave it two thumbs up and a few exclamations. I wanted to fall face down in my plate. Even better, it was effortless.
That, my dears, is a pile of shrimp scampi. Not on a bed of angel hair pasta, but a pile of delicious spaghetti squash.
Yep, we’re still low carbin’ it and spaghetti squash is an incredible substitute for pasta or rice. In fact, I prefer it - it’s so darn good!
Here’s what I did:
Cut the spaghetti squash in half and scrape out the seeds and stringy stuff. Place it on a baking sheet cut side down and bake at 350 for about 45 minutes. Flip it face up and let it bake another ten or fifteen. Cooking the shrimp only takes about 5 minutes so you can take the squash out and melt butter in your skillet for the scampi.
Here’s where it gets tricky…once the butter is melted, toss in your shrimp and one of these..
Yep, a store bought packet o’ spices. Don’t judge me. It’s delicious.
Cook the shrimp for about three minutes, until they’re pink. Remove the skillet from heat, run a fork across the spaghetti squash and put that goodness on plates, ladle some shrimp and sauce over it and top with a bit of grated Parmesan. This is so good you’ll feel guilty. Really.
P.S. I’m sure this would be even better with big ol’ fat Gulf shrimp, but I had a bag of medium shrimp in the freezer so that’s what I used. Thawed, of course.
Did I mention that this was delicious?
Because it is.
My Mother’s Day was fantastic. Super fantastic. I’m so incredibly fortunate to be the girl in this family of wonderful guys. My sweet boys sent boxes of books, and I did a happy dance. One was a beautiful Oregon Trail book, full of stunning pictures of the trail accompanied by excerpts from pioneer diaries.
Then there was a book that I’d been waiting for. It’s a memoir delivered in a collection of snarky essays written by Jenny Lawson and not for those who are easily offended. Sometimes shocking, but always hilarious.
I even received a workout DVD that I’d placed on my wish list. It’s a “30 Day Shred” - which I swear I’m going to complete (and that’s saying something considering that the only thing I normally shred is cheese).
Yes indeed, my boys knew exactly what I’d like and they delivered. Even better than the treasure they sent, were the phone calls. That made my day. I’m a lucky mama and I just love them so gosh darn much.
My husband….what can I say about my husband? He goes overboard, he really does. I feel guilty even sharing all that he does for me. But he won’t stop even when I ask him to! Michael Flinn Pullen truly honors the mother of his sons. I love him for that.
A week or so before the big day, he walked into the living room and announced that he was presenting me with my gift early….and presented me with a CUTE pair of Merrells sandals!
I normally don’t mention (or care about) a brand - but there’s a back story. I tend to be…er…frugal. Okay, cheap. I buy cheap shoes and when they fall apart, like my summer sandals have, I glue ‘em or fix ‘em up somehow. No one would know, I swear. But Mickey insists that just perhaps my choice in footwear is connected to my foot and ankle pain. He is a huge fan of Merrells and has worn them for years and swears they’ll give me a new lease on life. Whether they do or not, I’ll still wear them because they’re so cute!!
Fast forward a few days and we’ll find that same dear husband out running errands while I puttered in the kitchen. When he returned home he said , “I brought you a surprise.” I told him I’d already received my Mother’s Day gift and didn’t need anything. Then he opened the bag and presented me with a stack of brightly colored dish towels and a bottle of rose spray. Again, there’s a back story. For several days I had been lamenting the fact that I seemed to be missing an unusual amount of kitchen towels. I use mine a lot because I don’t buy paper towels. I count on seeing towels when I open the drawer to grab one, and lately I was often coming up short. I think that someone may have been feeling guilty or perhaps he was aware that I’d spied several of my better towels looking pretty grungy in the garage. Doesn’t matter now because I have lots of BEAUTIFUL new towels. Apple green, bright orange, sunny yellow, black and white. I really shouldn’t be this excited about dish towels, but I am. The rose spray was to kill the stupid bugs who have been feasting my rose bushes and decimating the leaves. %$@#$! I dropped everything and went out and treated my lovely bushes. Mickey to the rescue! So I was quite satisfied with my spiffy shoes, handy towels, and protected rose bushes. I was content with my world. But you know he can’t leave well enough alone. No sir, on Mother’s Day he presented me with breakfast in bed. Eggs Benedict that he made himself….using crab meat. He served it with a bowl of fresh, sweet strawberries and blackberries Oh. my. word.
Think he stopped there? Not Mickey Pullen. He gave me a gift that combines my love for soaking up sun with arts & crafts.
How’s that for a blank canvas?? I’m so excited! He included a card with cold hard cash for “art supplies”. My head is swirling with ideas! Look at these painted chairs -
This one is my favorite…
Except it wouldn’t say “Believe”…it might say “Relax”. I waffled back and forth between whether the chair would go on the front porch or the deck. I’d paint it differently for one or the other. I’m 99% sure it’s going on the deck where I can wallow sit and read in my bathing suit. I won’t do that on the front porch. They might stop delivering our mail. I can also sit on the deck and enjoy my last present ( I know, can you believe it??).
Seems I’ve been whining commenting on our old, plastic hummingbird feeder and how hard it is to clean. That sweet man found this gorgeous number made with an antique sort of bottle. He knew I’d love it. He even bought just the right brush for cleaning it. I’ve already filled it and hung it over the fairy garden. Love it!
By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around I was feeling like I should have given Mr. Pullen more children to balance out the bevy of gifts. Without kids at home and the busy schedule I used to have, I don’t feel I qualify. I was a tad overwhelmed. But ever so grateful. Not a day goes by that I’m not humbled and down-on-my-knees thankful for my loving family and this good life. Amen, hallelujah, over and out.
I love this day. I consider Mother’s Day my personal Thanksgiving, I really should be presenting my kid with gifts. I’m so very,very grateful for my good fortune. I was given the opportunity to mother Matthew Flinn and Tyler Christian and it’s been the single most exciting, loving, educational, delightful, hilarious, and rewarding experience of my life. Nothing compares. Nothing. I finally became myself through being their mother.
Today I’m reminded to be grateful to my own mother as well. It’s not until you parent your own children that you understand your mother’s love for you. I was an adult before I realized the incredible strength that my soft-spoken mother possessed. I had children in grade school before I understood the sacrifices she’d made while raising three children. Now my children are adults and I understand why even though I’m forty-eight she still cautions me to dress warmly, or drive carefully, or get some sleep. It’s because a love that strong doesn’t fade just because a child’s needs fade. A mother still wants to protect and nurture. It’s not a job you can retire from. There is no end, no limit, no reversing of a mother’s love. There are few things in life as constant. So if you have a mother or you are a mother, take a moment to be grateful today. Your mother loved you before you were born and she’ll love you all of her days.