Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Busy as a Bee

So, I've blogged about ten times...but only in my head.

I've had so much going on, that by the time I have time to actually blog on paper, I'm too pooped to do it.

My house has been spring cleaned (mostly by not me) except for about half our bedroom. 

We put some new rugs down and if you don't think that's a chore - moving furniture, cleaning,  taking up old rug, putting down new rug and putting furniture back - then you ain't never done it.

It's like painting a room. Mid-way through you're thinking, "Why, oh why, did I ever start this insanity?"

I really love 3 of the rugs, but the other one...meh. But I guess I'll learn to live with it.

Spring and summer brings a boat load of stuff that needs doing. The house, porches and yard get ignored to a large extent when winter is the season. It's like spring sunshine makes you see your house in a different light: "What the heck is that nastiness?" You ask yourself and others. Many times it's not even identifiable by spring. You just put on the mask and gloves and hope for the best while removal is taking place.

At our house, at least, nobody's died.

Yet.

Monday, June 13, 2016

Headlines and Other Nonsense

There are a lot of troubling things in the headlines lately.

But one caught my eye and made me cock my head gently to the side: Hooters Restaurant is concerned about their image. I wonder why?

I mean, I could understand their concern if their name was Biters, or say, Woofers. But Hooters? Why would they be concerned about their image? Like, what? It's gotten too clean?

And then, the other day I spoke briefly to a guy I went to  high school with - he was two years ahead of me. Something kept niggling in the back of my mind, saying that he looked familiar, and I don't mean from high school. Then it hit me. He looks just like Mr. Potato Head, and I ain't kidding.

Husband and I have changed our eating habits a little. He's lost about twelve pounds and I've lost seven. Being a man, they always do that, and it makes me mad. I don't care that we have an extra layer of fat.  But what makes me madder is I can't even tell I've lost seven pounds of blubber because this brace I'm wearing pulls all my back fat around to the front, pushes my belly fat straight up, and then bunches it all up under my...hooters.

And the restaurant is worried about their image?

They should be thinking about Mr. Potato Head and me.

Thursday, June 9, 2016

I guess baking a cake is sorta like riding a bicycle.

I had not made a cake since before I fell in January of 2006. 

That's right, over ten years.

In fact, Daughter reminded me that yesterday marked the tenth anniversary when I fell down the rabbit hole of surgery and returned damaged and  confused; my life changed forever.

Anyway, Daughter's 26th birthday was June 7, and because I've been doing better as of late, I determined I was going to bake a birthday cake.

So, I did. 

It is good.

I also cooked a birthday dinner. You will be saddened to learn I did not snap any photos of the meal. Let's just say it was a success also.

Happy birthday, my Daughter!

Monday, June 6, 2016

Something's Fishy

The other day, after we had enjoyed a leisurely cup of coffee, I strolled into the kitchen to rinse my cup and put it in the dishwasher.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the measuring cup in the dish drainer.

I said, out loud,"Gross."

This particular measuring cup is very old. In fact, it is so worn that you can't read the measurements on it anymore. It was given to me by Mother right after I got married at age eighteen.

Although I'd received at least two of everything; especially stuff I'd never use, I did not get a measuring cup. So she gave me her old one. And this was forty-four years ago.

I have long since had a new measuring cup. Well, I guess it ain't new no more, but you can read the measurements on it.

At any rate, I knew in a flash, that instead of Husband using the "new" measuring cup, he'd strained himself and reached waaaay up on the top shelf over the stove and fetched the old one.

But just to make sure, I marched into the living room with the piece of evidence and asked.

He said, yeah, he'd used it and so what.

Here's what: The old cup, along with a measuring pitcher that Mother used to measure my formula in when I was a newborn (and you can't read the measurements on it anymore either, plus the spout is chipped off) are what I use to put water in on Friday night. Then on Saturday afternoon, I put the fish in the old measuring cup while I clean out his bowl. I then pour clean water from the pitcher, followed by the water and fish from the cup.

And no, I never wash it.

"I knew the coffee tasted a little fishy this morning," I quipped.

"I guess I'm sunk." Husband responded.

"Yep. You took the bait."

Much later I looked at my arm and said, "My skin is so scaly lately."

Husband started to say the same about his, but caught himself at the last moment.

"I don't suppose that coffee will make us sick, will it?" He asked, later.

"Honey, that ship sailed.  If we get sea sick, we just do."

Daughter asked, "Is this a joke I'm supposed to swallow hook, line and sinker?"

And, "Do you feel swimmingly?"

And on and on, but I will spare you the rest.

Let's just say I hope Husband isn't reeled in by that old measuring cup again.