Wednesday, January 31, 2007

On My Soap Box, 3

I would like to know the definition of the word "accountability". I think most people have forgotten its meaning, at least as it applies to personal accountability. It's everyone else's fault but our own. We are constantly pointing fingers and take no responsibility for our own actions. This really grates on my nerves.

Is it really a restaurant's fault that we do not know what a normal serving looks like or what constitutes a healthy meal? Do we need to be told the coffee is hot and we should be careful? And if we aren't careful, we can sue the restaurant because we don't know how to drive and drink coffee at the same time. Isn't the act of driving our only responsibility at the time?

If I choose to indulge in a Big Mac every day I can now sue the company for making high-calorie burgers. It's no longer necessary for me to assume that my diet is my responsibility. Oh no. The restaurant has made me fat and has clogged my arteries to the point that I have shortened my life span, and someone other than me needs to pay the damages.

And what about our kids? They are perfect, of course, and the teachers and the police and anyone else who attempts to correct them will end up in court. If Little Johnny brings a gun to school, can the school be blamed for a lack of stronger security measures? It wouldn't surprise me. I remember the "old days" when teachers were right and the child had to prove their innocence to their parents. Somehow, parents have become blind to the actions of their young. They don't want to be accountable. Rather than raising them with a healthy respect for authority, it's easier to encourage bad behavior by blaming someone else. The children grow up and continue the process because they have never learned to be held accountable for their own actions.

If we make a mistake we should make it right or suffer the consequences. We shouldn't point the blame elsewhere. So many lawsuits end up in court when they have no business to be there. If fast food restaurants want to grill their high-calorie foods, let them. We have a choice. We can go there and indulge, or opt for foods that are high in fiber and nutrition. If we are a slave to a certain food or habit, we need to look in the mirror and point a finger. No one forced us into that situation.

It's lunch time and I'm heading out to buy a junior burger and fries. If I tip the scales tomorrow or end up in cardiac arrest over it, I will be held accountable. I could have chosen oatmeal.


Friday, January 26, 2007

Good-bye, Bandera




It's Friday evening and Cheryl and I will pack up in the morning and head to my house. This is always a bittersweet time for us. We miss our families and we want to stay here. We can't have both. Today was strictly pajamas, junk food and more Yahtzee. We've played 162 games so far (the night isn't over), we have laughed soooo hard, we have talked and talked. I was reminded that our week was coming to an end when Cheryl told me she was tired of seeing me in the red velour shirt I've worn over my pajamas for warmth.

Note the three deer who were grazing in front of our condo. Also, I've included more pictures of our fun-filled week. This is our fourth visit to Bandera and I have a feeling it won't be our last. We keep coming back for the beauty and solitude. I don't know when we've felt so relaxed.

Bandera, it's so hard to say good-bye.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Rooms with a View




More pictures of our condo. Due to drought conditions, the creek we love to hear at night has dried up a lot, but still a little water. Deer in the front yard are a common sight. We even saw four just sitting in someone's front yard like dogs! So cute. Friday, as always, will be another pajama day as we take full advantage of our last day in paradise.

My Baby's Having A Baby!

How thrilled I am to learn that my daughter, Angela, and her husband, Clayton, are expecting their third child. They suffered the loss of two miscarriages last year and have been on pins and needles waiting for the Ultrasound that was performed today. It showed a healthy 8-week baby with a strong heartbeat. Praise God for answered prayers! The due date is September 4, and this Memaw will be there helping the new family of five while Angela gets on her feet. What a blessing! Number 9 is on the way!

Thursday in Bandera




We finally cleaned up and stepped out of the condo for the second time. I actually washed my hair and applied makeup, something that is rare when we have our week in Bandera. But, it actually felt good to be clean and we went to devour some Mexican food. After that we made another stop at Piggly Wiggly for a few things we needed, bought more Blizzards for the freezer, and headed back to change into our beloved pajamas. We pack more pajamas for this trip than regular clothes but it fits our lifestyle so perfectly.

The pictures are of us in the restaurant and some random shots of our condo. This place is beautiful! We spend so much time here that we definitely get our money's worth. We both needed this journey to Paradise in Bandera.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Bandera - This is Life!



We finished our Butterfinger Blizzards under the cover while watching Criminal Minds on TV. Notice the hair and lack of makeup. Holed up and lazy. There is nothing like it. We're having a ball, not to mention getting plenty of rest and calories.

Trivia: I was the first to break down and shave my legs (Cheryl has bows for hers) but Cheryl was the first to wash her hair. I'm still waiting.

Piggly Wiggly


What fun we have at the local Piggly Wiggly in Bandera. They changed the name of the store, but it's still Piggly Wiggly to us. Once the trunk is free of luggage we go shopping to stock the condo's kitchen. And boy! do we stock it! Keep in mind, this is Friends Week and all diets are on hold. This is a special time of indulgence and Cheryl and I know how it's done! We bought a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts and a few cream-filled, an assortment of candies, a coffee cake, chips and dips, crackers and cheese, sodas, breads, lunch meat, and for good measure, a few tomatoes and bottled water. It is now Wednesday and we've only ventured out once to eat out on my birthday. We have enough food to stay inside and let the world around us turn cold.

We have played almost 100 games of Yahtzee, taken naps every day, and watched very little TV. We are so calm and relaxed! I could really get used to this. I'd love to buy this condo and retire here. Impossible right now, I know, but a lovely dream of mine.

Here's Cheryl in the frozen food aisle picking out our Sarah Lee coffee cake. yum!

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

My Bandera Birthday


What a beautiful place to spend a birthday! Especially if one wants a very relaxed atmosphere. Cheryl treated me to our favorite restaurant on the river and our waiter, Robert, gave us a complimentary slice of banana cake with one lighted candle. Then it was back to the condo and pajamas. Cheryl gave me four gifts during the course of the day: a mouse for my laptop which I so wanted, a mauve blouse, a matching camisole, and a pretty tan purse. I feel very spoiled and pampered. I also got phone calls from friends and family which completed the day for me. Oh, did I mention that we indulged in Butterfinger Blizzards? A birthday isn't complete without ice cream!

Bandera - Paradise Found



Here we are getting ready to hit the road for the Texas Hill country.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Baylee's Love for Animals


Teddy Joe and his constant companion, Baylee. She has no fear of this big dawg!

Mother & Daughter


What a beautiful pair! Angela and Juliet.

Handsome Ron and Family

Beautiful Angela and Family

Beautiful Allison and family

Christmas with the Twins


Christmas Day with Jordan and Riley.

Late Pictures - Finally


This is Robin and me with his sister, Kate, and her husband, Joseph. They visited Thanksgiving weekend.

Let it Snow!


Angela, North Carolina isn't the only state to get snow. Texas also has its rare moments. Check out our modest accumulation.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

On My Soap Box, 2

In the aftermath of 9/11 much has been said about racial profiling. The unfortunate victims of such profiling are up in arms over the injustice of it. I certainly understand their feelings to a point. But we have to put our sensitive feelings aside and get real. We can't afford another 9/11 and I'm in favor of whatever security measures that need to be in place.

Let's face it, we've all been inconvenienced. I don't like removing my shoes to go through airport security. I don't like waiting for friends and family at the luggage carousel when I'd rather greet them at their gate. I don't want to be the random one who is frisked for potentially dangerous objects. I do, however, want to feel safe when I board a plane and know that the officials in charge are doing their job to perfection. Therefore, I will tolerate the inconveniencies for the sake of safety. We live in a new world where innocent-looking individuals can't be trusted.

I remember the time I picked up my grandson, Thomas, from pre-school. He squealed when he saw me there and ran into my open arms. It was obvious that I was no stranger to him. Still, his teacher asked for my name and license, checking both against a list of those who were allowed to pick up Thomas. Once I was pronounced safe, she apologized for having to doubt me. I assured her that it made me feel better about Thomas and his environment. I left there knowing that if anyone came to get Thomas, they would be checked out first.

Too, consider a group of gang members with purple hair and black eyeliner terrorizing the city. If someone matching that description sat next to you on a plane, wouldn't you be concerned? I would. Both examples explain how the innocent have nothing to fear when profiled. Of course, there are instances when the profiling goes too far. I admit that there are many stupid people in the world who love to test our emotional endurance. But for the most part, I don't have a problem with racial profiling. It is common sense to question the intentions of those who so resemble our enemies. Forging ahead with blind trust is dangerous. We saw the consequences of that on 9/11.

So, get a grip everyone. We're all facing annoying and delaying inconveniencies in the name of national security. It's now a necessary evil. Instead of looking at it as a personal attack, consider the masses whose lives might have already been spared due to heightened awareness. It's not the time for the "me" syndrome. Let's begin looking at "us" collectively.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

On My Soap Box

Unfortunately for those of you who read this blog with any regularity, I have enough material to make "On My Soap Box" a series. A long series. My opinions may not change the world, but getting them out to the public, however small, will make me feel better.

Here goes. The city of Farmers Branch is trying to implement an Illegal Immigration Ordinance that will require all property owners to require proof of citizenship before renting. Also on the agenda is to make English the official language in Farmers Branch.

What is so wrong with this country that we have to "make" English the official language. I thought it already was. And, it's about time a city or state stood up in an effort to claim their territory. This is the United States of America, isn't it?

Let me point out now that I have nothing against those who come to this country for a better way of life. My deceased husband was Polish, yet was born and raised in Brazil. His lifelong dream was to come to the USA and call it home. He arrived on our shores in the late 60s and went though all the proper channels to become a legalized citizen. His eyes would well with tears whenever he heard the National Anthem. He's the type of immigrant we want here. He loved this country, he learned its history so he could become a citizen, and he embraced our language and way of life. He didn't come here expecting handouts or others speaking Portuguese to help him fit in. He came expecting to work and learn.

If I had gone through the legal channels to become a citizen I would be very upset at those who didn't think it was necessary. It bothers me to see the grand USA becoming so wimpy that it crumbles under the whims of a few. We are quickly getting to a point that if you are a natual-born citizen of this great nation, you are a taxpayer, and a hard worker, you have fewer rights than your neighbor who has crossed the border illegally. I don't get the logic.

First of all, we need to define the word "illegal". It means different things to different people. If I break the speed limit I have committed an illegal act and will be penalized. If a foreigner enters our country illegally, he/she is free to accept our medical care, our food stamps, even our Social Security. If they are not going to be penalized, why do we insist on calling them illegal?

If every city would follow the lead of Farmers Branch and enforce the law within their own boundaries, maybe we could lick this problem. I'm afraid, however, that we will continue giving in to a few voices and ignore the multitude. I'm proud to be an American. I just wish this country would go back to its roots and stand up for what is right. And legal.

Hunting Season - Woman Style

The hunting season officially came to a close this past weekend. While Robin spent two months freezing his butt off in a deer blind, Patty and I had slumber parties. That's our idea of hunting season.

The fun begins the first weekend in November and concludes the first weekend in January. As Robin packs his gear, loads his arsenal, and heads out to do his macho thing, Patty is packing an overnight bag in anticipation of Hunting Season - Woman Style. A typical slumber party for us includes no cooking, lots of eating out, Christmas shopping and total relaxation. It's a time of female bonding, much like the male bonding that is going on at the deer lease. The similarities end there.

We're enjoying piping hot enchiladas in a warm restaurant while the guys are feasting on Vienna Sausages (yuck) or standing in the cold over a hot grill. We crawl between warm flannel sheets and Robin strives to get warm in his sleeping bag, all in the name of machoism. We sleep late. Robin has set his alarm for 3:30 AM so he can sit in a cold blind and hope a deer - one with a huge rack - will appear in his scope.

What Patty and I enjoy most is the change in routine. Our weekend is open for whatever we want to do. Christmas shopping becomes less of a chore when sharing it with a friend. We accomplish a lot if we want to, or loll around the house in pajamas if the urge hits us. The time is so relaxing that I don't even get mad at Robin when he comes home with arms laden with dirty dishes and puts them in the sink while I'm cooking dinner. That's usually a sore spot with me, but I merely think back to the quiet weekend and figure the extra mess while I'm cooking is worth it.

Patty and I were having our morning coffee Sunday when I looked at her and said, "countdown to hunting season. Ten months!" We both wanted to cry.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Diet and the New Year

Dieting seems to be the most common New Year's Resolution. I guess some people need a target date to implement their goals. While I have nothing against a weight loss program, I have a big problem with fad diets and those who expect miraculous results.

I believe there is only one way to lose weight and keep it off. It's called torture. Torture involves a disciplined exercise regimen and ignoring the taste buds. Drinking three glasses of water before a meal for that feeling of fullness won't cut it. After all that water my taste buds are screaming for something good.

My daughter Allison and I were discussing diets recently and she told me about a comment Rosie O'Donnell had made. Rosie had baked Tollhouse cookies and offered them to her then new girlfriend, Kelly. Kelly refused the offer, stating she wasn't hungry. Rosie wanted to know what hunger had to do with it. I can so relate. It's not what is going on in our stomachs that makes us want to eat. It's those tiny, annoying buds on our tongues that demand to be satisfied. I'd have to splurge to the point of misery before food would no longer appeal to me. Even then, it would be a brief fast.

I'd like to report that I have complete control over my taste buds, but I'd be lying. Like millions of other people in the world, I give them full reign. Even during those times when I try to eat a healthy diet, I know how to wreck the health benefits of vegetables with cheese and fruit with pie crust. My favorite source of protein is Peanut M&Ms. Like I said, it's not the feeling of fullness that sheds those pounds, but learning to deny the whims of the buds.

Regardless of my weight, I have to indulge in the foods I love. And because of that, I have to implement the torture diet by setting some limits. Yes, I'll eat my hamburger and fries, but half of it will go into the garbage can. I have to have pizza and savor the smaller portion I have allowed myself to have. If we were truly honest with ourselves, we'd admit that half a burger is filling. The other half is used only to keep those taste buds happy.

There is no miracle drug on the market that will instantly melt away those pounds. I am not fooled by all the claims made by weight-loss products or fad diets. The only solution is the torture diet with exercise and extreme restraint. Show those taste buds who's boss.

But if a product is ever available that numbs the buds and keeps them in a stupor long enough for weight loss to begin, I'm a customer. Until then, I'm at their mercy except for the rare occasions when I have a smidgen of control. Unfortunately, I don't have the upper hand for long.

Welcome 2007 and the dreaded torture diet.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

Mirrors Don't Lie

Especially a big, honkin' one on a pedestal with three light settings and a magnifying side that works like a microscope. That's the surprise gift my friend, Patty, gave me when she came to visit this week. She'd told me over the phone that she had something for me that "you'll hate me for when you see it, but will love me for after you use it". Well, I already love Patty. I've loved her since we met in the sixth grade. She's my friend from way back. But the giant mirror is really testing this friendship.

I was very anxious to use it the next morning while applying makeup. Patty said it really helped while working on the eyes with shadow and mascara. So, I plug the thing in, tap the base three times for the ultimate light, then peered into the magnified mirror for the shock of my life. I knew I had a mustache but didn't know it could be styled. Where did all those black hairs come from? And my face! I don't think the moon has that many craters! I saw trenches, pits, sun spots, and broken capillaries that made my face look like the map of Texas. And I have a unibrow when I thought I had two nicely shaped eyebrows. I don't even want to mention nose hair. Yuck.

Ever so slowly, I recovered from shock long enough to use the mirror for its intended purpose. I rubbed and rubbed the foundation into my skin, wondering why it wouldn't smooth. Maybe it never had and I hadn't noticed. But my trusty mirror pointed out every application flaw. Then it was time to do my eyes. How does anyone get shadow on lids like that? No wonder I can't see. My lids droop. I got ready a lot faster when I didn't know I looked thrown together.

Patty is a precious friend who spoils me rotten. She comes over so often bearing gifts. I have about 120 bottles of perfume and most came from her. Besides the perfume, she has spoiled me with clothes, jewelry, purses and shoes. She buys gifts that appeal to my senses. Therefore, I'm not surprised that she gave the mirror for my sense of sight. But I do see two extremes here. While a bottle of perfume can arouse the sense of smell with a floral bouquet of fragrance, the mirror showed me a stranger. A stranger I didn't want to know. A stranger who made me think of some of the characters from the Wizard of Oz. Maybe even the Bride of Frankenstein.

"You will hate me, then love me," Patty had said. I do love you, my friend. But I'll love you more if you will stick to my sense of smell. The mirror is too much.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Caution: Danger Zone

That is now the new name for my kitchen. I enter at my own risk. I ventured in there to make what I thought was a simple lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and walked out with a band-aid on each hand.

The cutting board was the first item to attack me. My block of cheddar cheese was sitting on it as I used the cheese slicer. As my hand came down my middle finger on my right hand connected with the lip on the cutting board. It hurt, but I kept on slicing cheese until I saw blood splurting all over the place and saw the broken blood vessel. I tried to contain the flow of blood long enough for Robin to apply a band-aid.

Now bandaged, I go back to slicing cheese and bang the same finger on the lip of the board again, rendering the band-aid useless. We applied another band-aid and finally ate grilled cheese sandwiches.

Then, it was clean-up time. I reached into the sink to rinse the dishes I'd washed and a paring knife pricked a finger on my left hand. Again, the blood came. Again, another band-aid. By this time, of course, I believe that God is trying to tell me something: "Stay out of the kitchen!" It's an absolute danger zone when one considers the amount of lethal weapons that are in that small space. There are ovens, stoves, knives, and even cutting boards. I'm thinking seriously about going on a strike. Imagine the chaos if I should decide on a more gourmet meal like Hamburger Helper instead of simple grilled cheese!

As I deal with two sore fingers and one that continues to pop open and require a new band-aid, I am convinced that I'm not a good candidate for kitchen duty. I'm in favor of calling in delivery or frequenting all the area restaurants. This is not an indulgence, but a life or death matter for me. I don't want to enter the kitchen in fear, afraid the flour canister will drop on my toes, crushing them. I don't want to be burned, stuck, stabbed, and beaten by all the innocent looking utensils that reside in my kitchen. I'm serious, this is war.

It would be wise if all of us took a poster board and wrote "Caution: Danger Zone" in bright red letters and attached it to the refrigerator. Unless you're an adventurer or risk-taker, there is no need to subject ourselves to such bodily mutilation. Take it from me, a victim of the cutting board and paring knife, and save yourself some grief. Order in tonight!