A Novel Weekend

What better follow-up to a babysitting post than one about a lazy weekend with a good book? That's just what I did. I didn't bother getting dressed or adding makeup. Winter made another appearance with a few snow flurries and it seemed a good time to grab a novel and get comfortable.

I have always loved the rare weekends when I can snuggle up to a good book and let the world go on without me. My novel of choice this weekend was a good mystery by Lawrence Block. I've never read his work before, but I certainly will again. The book kept me riveted and I started and finished it in the same weekend. I enjoy a good mystery, perhaps my favorite reading material. I find it odd that what I enjoy reading, I do not enjoy writing. It might be because I lack the imagination to write a good mystery. My forte seems to be the ups and downs of everyday life with a touch of romance thrown in. And while I can enjoy a good romance novel, I much prefer the mysteries. Too many romance novels include a blow-by-blow description of the sex act which I find boring. We all know the various things that can happen behind closed doors and this is the time to let our imaginations take over. It's not like we're virgins who need a road map.

Anyway, the weekend was lazy and glorious and I feel rested enough to tackle a new work week. Also, reading a novel always gets my juices flowing and I look forward to my own writing. My next book, Sacrifice, is waiting for help from a local policeman who is well versed in financial crimes. Maybe Sacrifice will be a mini mystery!

A Jude & Baylee Sleepover

While their mother flew off to North Carolina to visit her sister, Jude and Baylee spent the night with us. They did remarkably well considering that they had never spent a night away from their parents. There were no cries of homesickness, and Baylee only expressed a slight fear of sleeping in her mom's old room which is now filled with exercise equipment. She fell asleep in my arms on the sofa and then we moved her to the port-a-crib. She rolled to her side and never woke up until morning.

Jude camped out on the den floor in his racecar sleeping bag. Papa gave him a flashlight to keep by his side. He said he heard our alarm this morning at 7:00 and was ready for pancakes. Baylee woke up about the same time and and when Papa went to get her she informed him she was wet. He had her changed into a dry diaper and clothes by the time I got in there. She didn't finish her one pancake, but Jude devoured three. Both of them laughed at the funny faces.

Our two days were filled with a walk around the block and many rides in their little cars outside. To save our backs, Papa tied ropes to the cars and we pulled them. That was so much fun that Baylee wanted off the car and enjoyed pulling it herself. We heard a siren and Jude asked if we had firetrucks in our maze. When I asked what he meant by maze, he rephrased the question and asked if we had firetrucks in our forest. With all the pretty tree-lined streets, he's often asked if we live in a forest.

Today they went to work with me so I could do payroll and a couple of invoices. Uncle Ron was glad to see them. When we left, we went to two banks and they were given suckers. Then we headed to the grocery store where they rode in the car grocery basket which was difficult for Memaw to steer. We bought coloring books and crayons and they were offered a cookie in the bakery department. Sorry, Allison, about Baylee's stains on her clothes!

Their Daddy ate dinner with us and was gracious enough to work on our laptops. Robin has a new one and is happy to finally be online. We packed up clothes and bedding and saw them off. They promised to have another sleepover so I'd quit crying after them.

Baylee and Papa were playing and joking around when Baylee told him he was ugly. He said he was handsome. Baylee then squealed, "are you insane???" We really laughed over that. She fell asleep in his arms while I cooked dinner and woke up to see her Daddy.

Jude and Baylee are very good, very polite children and we enjoyed their visit. Thank you for being so sweet and loving. We love you, Jude and Baylee!

Our 9th Anniversary

Robin and I are celebrating an anniversary today. Last night I found a box of wedding memories and we looked through the cards, airline ticket stubs, a sheet from the hotel stationery, and our pictures. My garter was also there in its original package. I know it sounds like I'm talking about valuable antiques, when actually my three kids have been married longer than we have. They are just meaningful tokens representing another milestone in my life.

Among the treasures was a card I gave to Robin on the day we were married. I wrote about how I looked forward to being his soul mate, his friend, his lover and his wife. Reading those words again renewed a committment in my heart. None of us are as giddy and full of promise as we are on our wedding day, but to capture it again by going through old memories is good for us. The ups and downs of life make us forget why we married this special person in the first place.

On that note, I'd like to thank Robin for being my wonderful husband for nine years. Thank you for the funny and romantic way you planned our entire wedding, and only letting me in on the date - April Fool's Day - just days before we boarded the plane for Las Vegas. The chapel, my bouquet, and the day were wonderful. I appreciate the man you are, your sense of humor, and your loving involvement in the lives of my grandchildren. I'm proud of the positive steps you've taken along the way to make yourself a better person. I owe so much of my happiness to you. Happy anniversary. I love you, Baby.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I'll tell you what's wrong with it. Those two beauties are my granddaughters! When did they get this grown up? How old does it make me? I'm not supposed to have grandchildren this old. Wow! Aren't they gorgeous???

A Date With Candice

What a wonderful evening Candice and I had last night with dinner and shopping for her "sweet 16" birthday. We began this tradition nine years ago when my wedding trip to Las Vegas was going to prevent me from attending her 7th birthday party. To make up for it, I took her to dinner, then we shopped and I let her pick out what she wanted for her birthday. We had so much fun that she and Camryn want to do this every year. I also started doing it with the boys this year as Thomas and Jude turned five.

When I arrived at Candice's house I gave her a gold tote bag with a perfume gift box inside, shopping money, and her sweet 16 card with $16 inside, another tradition I began with my own children and stopped when they got too expensive! Then we literally pigged out at El Fenix with lots of good conversation too. Candice is a very mature young lady with lots of common sense and education. She can discuss any topic with insight that is rare for a girl her age. She's so refreshing!

Our next stop was shopping at Grapevine Mills Mall. Candice picked out some very pretty tops to wear with her jeans, a white camisole to wear underneath, and a pretty pair of dangling, sparkling earrings. She was anxious to wear one of her tops and the perfume to school today. She looked fabulous as she modeled her tops for me. We topped off the evening with Cinnabons which we took home and sampled.

The weather was not the best. We carried umbrellas and sloshed through water puddles in our flip-flops and froze with our wet clothes and feet once inside the mall. I'm surprised we didn't break into our own rendition of Singing In The Rain, but most likely that was a song from my generation, not hers. A very pleasant, sweet moment was when we sat in the car, the rain running down the windows, and talked about my life with her Grandpa and all the happy and sad times we experienced. I loved sharing that beautiful history with my granddaughter.

Candy Girl, you are a jewel and I'm so proud of you for many, many reasons. You have a good, not to mention beautiful, head on your shoulders and it will serve you well. Thank you for a night to remember.

Teen Years Revisited

Yep, that's Patty and me with the Easter Bunny. We were shopping for a bridal shower and happened to pass by the Bunny and photographer. Patty suggested we get a picture. This is not unusual for us. We had a picture made with Santa a few years ago. This goes back to our silly teenage years.

Patty and I had our picture taken with Santa Claus twice when we were teenagers. We thought it would be the cutest thing - sitting on Santa's lap with our short skirts, teased hair in flips or pageboys. Ah, the fabulous sixties. Times really have not changed at all when we're together. We still act like teenagers, laughing over silly things and shopping for girlie items that make us feel good. Prior to the Bunny shot, we'd just purchased flip-flops at Old Navy, the "2 for $5" bargain. We're big spenders, Patty got six pairs, I got four. We also managed to get our bridal shower gifts! And, we enjoyed lunch at El Chico before we headed to the mall.

I skipped out on work for a couple of hours so we could enjoy this outing. Playing hookie! Isn't that just like a teenager?

Happy "Sweet 16" Candice!

You're sweet 16 today,

My lovely Candy Girl.

My first precious grandchild,

The sweetest in the world.

It doesn't seem too long ago

When I held you in my arms,

And you captured Memaw's heart

With your beauty and your charms.

Each year you've been a blessing

As I watched you learn and grow.

Each moment a time to cherish

Because I love you so.

Your graceful transformation

Has taken me by surprise.

A young lady, not a baby,

Has appeared before my eyes.

You have your act together,

You're more than a pretty face.

You have brains and determination

That can take you anyplace.

You're sweet 16 today,

What a special place to be.

Happy birthday, Candy Girl,

You mean so much to me.

A Surprise Visit

As if being at work and knowing it's Friday isn't good enough, add a surprise visit from an old school chum. I was working at my desk when the door opened and there was Jan Tucker with two Sonic Butterfinger Blasts. I immediately grabbed both her and my ice cream! It was a slow day for me at work (I was actually working on the newsletter) so we had a wonderful visit for over two hours.

Jan lost her mother this month and we talked about her and all the things associated with going through her belongings. In her funny Jan style, Jan related comical stories about her mother. I've saved an e-mail from her mother where she told me she had finished both my books and hoped I had the others finished before she died. She'd been in and out of the hospital the past few months, but still her death was unexpected. I remember her from the teen years when I'd spend the night at Jan's house. I attended her funeral and it was a beautiful celebration of her life.

Jan retired from her job where she handled insurance claims the day before she came to see me. She shared several folders her co-workers and boss had assembled of their fun times with her and their pictures so she'd never forget them. It was clear that Jan's warm smile and sunny personality had won them all over, not to mention how efficient she was on the job. I know she will be greatly missed. But as I told her, I hope their loss is my gain as she will be free to drop in on me from time to time.

I thoroughly enjoyed her visit (and the Butterfinger Blast) and it was a wonderful way to end the day and begin the weekend. Jan is such an "up" person that one can't stay down very long in her presence. She has a heart of gold, she remembers every occasion, and she gives herself as a friend for life. I feel very fortunate to be in that privileged group of friends.

The following day she left a phone message about a book club that would be willing to have me come to their meeting and speak on Simon Says, Books One and Two. Once I get back with her on that, I will share the good news. She's always pushing my books and has been a wonderful support during this time. I appreciate her and the woman she is very much. Believe me, I'm not alone. Anyone who knows her feels the same way. What a gal!

A Night With Josh Groban

Actually, it wasn't as intimate as it sounds. Besides, I have children older than him, but a girl can dream, can't she?

Allison, my daughter, treated me to a wonderful concert with Josh Groban. He has quite a following, not just Allison and me. We brought along Sophia to give her an introduction into culture (our variety) and to make sure she falls madly in love with our idol. Apparently she did. Once she sang along with him for a second or two, the rest of the time she was perfectly quiet. We couldn't have asked for a better baby.

Prior to the concert, Robin treated us to dinner at Spring Creek and handed us money to pay for parking or any Groban treasures we might want to buy. Since Josh wasn't for sale, we paid for parking with no other indulgences. My favorite male voice is baritone and it comes out of Josh's mouth beautifully. I'm very conservative about music (you will never see me at a rock concert) and Josh has a soothing and romantic way of singing his songs.

My favorite song of his is You Raise Me Up and it looked as though he wouldn't sing it this time. But when he came out for the second encore, I heard the tune begin and I was thrilled. Allison got to hear one of his favorites too, his lullaby song, which she enjoyed while cuddling her precious bundle who was being a real angel. Have I told you yet how good Sophia was? I'm sure being held by Mommy and Memaw was pretty exciting for her too.
Unfortunately, the picture of our Groban Babe is blurry and doesn't do him justice, but we three concert-goers are there.

Thank you, Allison, my Blondie, for surprising me with a ticket months ago and making me sweat it out until the last moment. It was worth the wait. He was worth the wait. And I so enjoyed my girls night out with you and Sophia.

The Woodlands

Robin and I spent the weekend in The Woodlands, a plush, woodsy area just north of Houston. Robin's sister and brother-in-law, Kate and Joseph, were there visiting his daughter and her family. The trip was a last minute decision and we forgot to pack the camera, along with a clip for my hair while bathing.

We drove along Woodlands Parkway for awhile looking for a hotel. When we didn't find one, we headed back to I-45 and booked a room. The following morning as we got more into The Woodlands, we noticed two hotels. I'm sure our room rate on I-45 was more affordable - with the added perk of interstate traffic noise.

We met the gang at Benihanna's for dinner. The chef who prepared our food at our table was very good and his juggling acts were fabulous. The small small boys in our group were fascinated. Robin was happy to get my portion of shrimp and I was delighted to get his share of the grilled zuchinni. The fried rice, salad, and onion soup were wonderful, but my filet mignon lacked flavor. However, it was a wonderful evening and we thoroughly enjoyed the company.

After Benihanna's we met on Market Street at Cold Stone ice cream. The aromas that fill the nostrils when walking in make you want to indulge in all of it. They serve ice cream in three cup sizes: small is "I like it", medium is "I love it", and large is "I gotta have it". My taste buds were yelling gotta have it, but my common sense settled for I like it. Truthfully, had my common sense been alert, I wouldn't have stepped foot in there.

We ate our ice cream in the square while watching the boys play in the grass and the beautiful colors of the lighted fountain. We browsed a few shops before they locked their doors for the night.

Robin and I slept in Sunday morning while Kate and Joseph went to church with their kids. We met up for sandwiches at Potbelly. Later, we sat on a patio and sipped our Starbucks coffee before boarding a boat for a tour of the canal. The area and architecture are beautiful. Robin and I shopped in Tommy Bahamas and he bought me their signature fragrance (I think that makes 121 bottles that have to be dusted on my vanity).

We headed home using back roads until we arrived in Waco. Then, it was bumper to bumper all the way past Hillsboro. The gridlock was a combination of road construction and hungover Spring Breakers heading home. I overheard one young woman on her phone while waiting in a long line for a bathroom, that she planned to take a cruise next time, that she was so tired of drunks falling all over her. Sounds like fun, huh?

It was well after 10:00 pm when we got home and I still had to put a load of clothes in the washing machine. So I'm behind on my laundry? We still had a great weekend!

Happy 5th Birthday, Jude!

A blessed day, the Ides of March,
The year was two thousand and two,
When our family proudly assembled
To love and welcome you.

I'll never forget the smile
That was on your mother's face,
I knew her precious baby boy
In her heart had found a place.

And when your Daddy held you
His chest would swell with pride.
You became his little buddy,
Walking closely by his side.

Your Memaw looked at your sweet face
And immediately fell in love.
Your big blue eyes, your tender heart,
All created up above.

Your laughter is a symphony,
Your mere presence is a joy.
There's every cherished quality
Wrapped up in our little boy.

How God must have exclaimed,
"I'll create a wondrous dude!
And give him a loving family,
And they will call him Jude."

A Date with Bubba J

Jude is going to have a birthday soon and Robin and I decided age 5 was old enough for our lunch and shopping trips with grandchildren having a birthday. Jude was as excited about this adventure as we were. He just couldn't believe his car seat would be placed in Memaw's car and that he would have us all to himself.

The fun began at the eating place of his choice - Steak & Shake. He enjoyed a grilled cheese sandwich, fries, and a chocolate shake. He also asked for water since he's such a good boy. Papa Robin had chicken strips, fries and a shake, and I stuck with my usual of a single burger, fries and a Diet Coke. We all ate well! Jude kept thanking us for feeding him and spending the time with him for his special birthday. Once, he hugged and kissed me and told me he'd always be my Bubba J. That melted a big portion of my heart. His Mom had told him to seize each moment and enjoy it and not rush it. He obeyed perfectly. He kept eating after we finished and I told him there was no rush when he told me he wasn't through eating.

Next, we bounded into the car for the thrilling trip to Toys R Us. All the way there he told us he was having a great time and he thanked us over and over. When we neared our exit and the big Toys R Us sign loomed ahead, the excitement grew for Jude. I didn't have to ask him twice what the sign said.

I must point out here that he told me at lunch that he wouldn't get anything expensive since money also needed to be used for food and clothes. I thought that was very insightful for such a young guy.

The first aisle in the store was their summer display of outside, beach and pool toys. Jude spotted a plastic wheelbarrow set with a rake, shovel, and other gardening tools. He said he would be a good gardener. Sorry Mom and Dad if the flowerbeds get destroyed. That was the first item in the basket. Next, we took him to the "boy" section where all the cool toys were. He found a battery-operated tank with all the bells and whistles and told me he would like that and he would be done. I explained we still had money allotted for his birthday and he could pick out another toy. I knew he liked the characters from Toy Story so I steered him in that direction. He found another Buzz Lightyear that was a little different than the one he already had. He fell in love with it and it, too, went into the basket. Jude then announced he was done. That was good to hear since the limit had been met. We were impressed nonetheless.

I suggested picking out a soft plush toy for Baylee and Sophia. Jude was reluctant to do so, saying "it will be another stuffed animal that Mom and I have to pick up". I told him I think Baylee can understand that she's big enough to help clean. We bought her a small pug dog and a bunny for Sophia. We also picked out a big, pink pool bag for Mama. Jude was anxious to go home and show his family his treasures.

It was such a wonderful day with our little guy. I couldn't believe how appreciative he was of every moment, every morsel of food, and every toy. He was so sweet and polite and I salute his parents for teaching him to be that way. We love you, Jude!

Happy Birthday, Ron!

It is with immense pride that I recognize my son, Ron, today on his 38th birthday. I can't believe the little blonde, blue-eyed baby boy I held in my arms so many years ago is now 38. Even harder to believe, is how his age dates me. I feel very fortunate to be the mother of such a fine man and I appreciate so much about him. He's funny, responsible, talented, and he used to be handsome. You might find these latest pictures of him to be quite shocking. Perhaps it's the fact that he is turning 38 that caused him to slip into a mid-life crisis, but I was shocked to see what he'd done to his thick curly hair.

Ron has never paid much attention to the fact that his dark, golden locks might need to be trimmed. It's not unusual for him to go months without a haircut. I've mentioned a few times that he needs a haircut, to which he agrees, but nothing is done about it. Well, as you can see, he did something about it this week. He had his daughter, Candice, shave the top of his head bald, leaving the thick clumps of hair in the back and on the sides. He even threatened to do a comb-over. I admit he got a lot of laughs from everyone at work, customers and employees alike. My fear is that as the years go by, what will he do next. Perhaps an orange mohawk? He assures me he will show up at work with his head totally shaved. Maybe it will be an improvement, but I doubt it will be much of one.

Regardless of the damage he has done to the good looks he was blessed with, I still wish him a very happy birthday, complete with homemade chocolate chip cookies. He's invaluable to me at work, and even more invaluable to my life. He may have a new Bozo "do", but I love this kid.

Happy birthday, Ron. You're the best.

Perogies Anyone?

About a month ago my son, Ron, asked for perogies for his 38th birthday. Mind you, perogies are a lot of work. I considered this request and came to the conclusion that since I hadn't made perogies for him since his 30th birthday, it was really not an unreasonable request.

So, like a dutiful and loving mother, I busied myself in the kitchen for hours and toiled over 56 perogies. Making the dough and filling are the easy part. It becomes time-consuming when each perogie is cut out, filled, and the edges crimped with a fork. They rest on clean towels until the last one is made, then they are dropped into boiling water. Once removed from the water they are placed in a bowl and covered with melted butter and onions. A lot of work, but oh yum! Robin and I sneaked a few to eat with our smothered steak for dinner. The rest will be taken to work tomorrow for Ron, along with a carton of sour cream.

His birthday is three days away so I'm sure I'll be back in the kitchen on Tuesday night for homemade peanut butter cookies with extra peanuts. No, Ron isn't spoiled, he's just one of my kids and I love them all very much. Besides, making perogies isn't so bad when they only have to be made every 8 years.

Our Foster Cat

Here's Weasil, our official foster cat. We took him in over a year ago so his Dad could relocate in a place where a cat would not be welcome. Things have not changed. He's still with us and Robin and I have become very loving foster parents. In this picture, Weasil is enjoying some snuggle time under the blanket.

BB's Having A Birthday!

Best Buddie, Cheryl, is celebrating a birthday today. I'll be kind and not mention her age. I will say, however, that she's exactly 13 months younger than me. We've been great friends for 13 1/2 years and her presence in my life is certainly a blessing.

Cheryl, I wish I could take you to lunch to the restaurant by the river in Bandera like you did for me last month. We could repeat the birthday experience with Blizzards, Yahtzee, gifts and naps. Okay, if you really want to go, we can arrange it. Pack your jammies.

Happy birthday, Cheryl, and much love to a cherished friend.

On My Soapbox, 4

Celebrity + Courtroom = Circus. This has always bothered me and now that I have a forum with this blog, I can vent. Why, why, why, do we tolerate the expense of a trial or court hearing so judges and lawyers can draw out their time in the spotlight? This latest circus surrounding Anna Nicole is just another example of the media frenzy that turns a simple court proceeding into a long, drawn-out affair.

I'll be the first to admit that she left a tangled web that is far from simple. I also admit that I have no legal training and can't speak with authority on the issues. But I do have a lot of common sense and it is telling me that if these circumstances involved an unknown, they would have been settled by now.

This is how I would have handled it: Do the autopsy and collect enough DNA to satisfy all concerned parties, and do the embalming the next day. If foul play is not an issue, bury the body after a decent funeral in the area where the deceased has purchased a plot. Make sure all potential fathers have blood drawn and sent to a lab for processing. When a match is found, unite father and daughter and consider the case closed.

Court dockets are full of cases that need to be heard, long trials or hearings cost the county money, and camera-loving judges and attorneys aren't worth the expense. If this story had involved an unknown it wouldn't have been much of a story. It's fodder for the media and they prolong it as long as possible. And, the current media blitz doesn't say much for our legal system.

Judge Larry is a joke. He's in the spotlight and loving every minute of it. While the cameras are rolling, he can make his little jokes (as if the whole process is a laughing matter), take control of the questions (why are lawyers there anyway?), and make his moment of glory last longer than is necessary. I'm sure he's taping these shows to watch over and over in the privacy of his own home. Lucky Larry, Anna Nicole fell into his lap.

This frenzy reminds me of OJ and the ridiculous length of his trial, only to come back with a verdict of innocent. If I, the unknown, had been accused of the same crime, my trial would be over in a week, I'd be carted off to prison, and the key to my cell would be pitched into a bottomless pit. The public feeds on celebrity, the sensational, and the private secrets of those in the public eye. And the individuals who handle the legal side are caught up in their own moment of glory. Do they really hear the case or are they more concerned about their "hair" day? Oh yeah, Judge Larry doesn't have hair.

Florida, California, Texas, and the Bahamas need to join forces and consider what is best for the baby girl. She's the only one who matters right now. If she indeed stands to inherit a large sum of money, set it up in a trust to be given to her at the age of 21, and provide a monthly expense check to help her father raise her with certain advantages. Then bury her poor mother. What's so complicated about that?

Mystery Case Files

As if I needed another computer game to keep me chained to the desk, Cheryl introduced me to the world of Mystery Case Files: Prime Suspects. I've always enjoyed hidden picture puzzles. When Angela was small and had a subscription to Highlights magazine, I grabbed it first and looked for the page with the hidden pictures. Such a simple challenge, but I found it fun.

Robin has complained more than once that I spend too much time in the back room on the computer. Now, I set my laptop on his coffee table in his den and play Mystery Case Files. He even joins in and points out hidden objects that I'm trying to find. This is fairly unusual since Robin isn't into any kind of games. He enjoys this game very much, to the point of having me order Mystery Case Files: Huntsville, which we fell in love with after playing a free trial game. But although he likes the game, he isn't obsessed. He knows when to stop. I don't.

If I'm not at work, cooking dinner or sleeping, you will find me searching for all kinds of fun stuff in this game. I will play it over and over. Cheryl told me the game is very good exercise for the brain since it involves so much memory. So I tell myself it's a healthy form of exercise that my body needs. I can pretty much zoom on through and find everything, but I do get stumped often since some new items are on the list to find. It's safe to say I spend hours exercising my brain. I even exercise in my sleep. Even in my dreams I'm looking for frogs, a lizard, or an artichoke. It's pretty bad when you close your eyes for sleep and see the puzzle, except, of course, if you are taking your mental workout to the limit.

I'm happy I've found a game that Robin and I enjoy doing together. Many times we will sit together on the floor in front of the coffee table and look for objects. Soon, however, Robin gets bored and turns his attention back to the TV. I wish I had his self-control.

One could say I've earned this time to do what I enjoy. There were many years when my time was divided and stretched with family. Now that the pace has slowed, I still feel overly indulgent. There are more productive things I could be doing. I have two books started that I want to finish writing. I could clean baseboards and closets. I could exercise other parts of my body that are being neglected while I stimulate my mind.

More than likely, though, I will wear out Prime Suspects while waiting on Huntsville to be delivered. My body might be entering a vegetative state, but my mind is sharp as a tack. Happy playing.

Post-Valentine Post

Robin and I usually discuss the upcoming Valentine season and consider if we want to join the commercialism or disregard it all together. We never eat out on Valentine's Day since neither of us wants to wait two hours for a table, reservations or not. I haven't lost my sense of romance with age,but have gotten a little more practical. If we do decide to celebrate by eating out, we do it the day before or after.

This year we decided to give each other a little token gift. Robin said he needed a belt and I wanted a new , thicker chain to go with the necklace he gave me for my birthday. I went shopping and selected two belts, one brown and one in black. Then, I spotted the Tommy Hilfiger boxer shorts with hearts and thought I'd like to see my guy in a pair of boxers. I added a fourth little item to the box, a tin of Altoid mints covered in chocolate. It wasn't much, but it was something he asked for and I was happy to oblige.

Robin handed me my little jewelers box and I fully expected to open my new chain. Imagine my surprise when I saw the beautiful pink sapphire and diamond earrings to go with my Christmas ring and birthday necklace! Not just surprise, mind you, but egg on my face as I glanced at his heart-infested boxers! We were definitely NOT on the same page. I scolded him for spending so much on me for a simple occasion like Valentine's Day, all the while ripping those earrings from their box and sticking them in my ear. Notice I didn't demand that he take them back.

Thank you, Baby, for making me feel like a princess!

"I told You So!"

In a previous post, under "The Joys of Marriage" I reflected on the thermostat wars in my home between Robin and me. To refresh your memory, he is always cold but in summer attire, and I'm dressed for winter and burning up. We sneak around and lower/raise the thermostat until the other complains. I was always responsible for the electric bill so I tried to use common sense and monitor the thermostat.

Well, times have changed. The mortgage is now paid in full and I gladly handed the electric bill to Robin to pay. His first payment was last month, well over $600. I made up my mind that I'd quit being a pain in the neck about it since I no longer had to pay the bill. I gave Robin full control over the thermostat. The result: The bill came in yesterday at over $800! He was shocked. I don't know why he was shocked. But I do know why it was higher. The "thermostat monitor" had left her post.

I'm willing to bet that Robin will be more conscious now when he dresses or nears the switch that sends enough warmth in our home that we could become nudists and feel comfortable with it. I'm thinking that this new pain in his wallet will wake him up.

Last week he was walking around the house in a summer T shirt and telling me he has felt so cold all day long. In the meantime, I'm standing there peeling off layers because the heat is so high in the house. I finally told him, "I know you won't believe this, but I actually saw people dressed for winter today because of this weather." You're kidding.

Oh well, at least I don't have to foot the bill any more.

Tainted Peter Pan

When the story broke about Peter Pan possibly containing salmonela we quickly checked our brand new economy-sized jar of crunchy peanut butter. Sure enough, the numbers on the lid began with 2111. It's now sitting on the counter to be sent for a refund or trashed all together.

The interesting part is that it had been opened by us once, and smeared on my mother's homemade wheat bread with some honey. We suffered no adverse effects from it. Either the salmonela is hiding lower in the jar, is not present at all, or the healthy flaxseed, cracked wheat and wheat germ in my mother's bread counteracted the dangerous properties of salmonela. Good vs. evil.

I prefer the last explanation. I like to think that all the hard work and good ingredients that go into the making of all those loaves of bread that keeps 30+ kids coming back for more, has power over a simple thing like salmonela. But to be on the safe side, we will not eat any more of it. My reasoning for that is that sometimes Robin eats peanut butter sandwiches on regular, white, store-bought bread. I just can't imagine! The empty calories of white bread could never ward off the dangers of salmonela, so we aren't taking any chances.

Sophia's Dedication

Sophia was dedicated to the Lord on Saturday, February 10. It was a lovely ceremony with a slide show of the family and a sweet picture of the star attraction left on the screen. I tried to post the picture but the blog wouldn't accept the format.

Sophia's grandpa, Jerry, an ordained minister, performed the ceremony. Having an important member of the family doing the dedication makes it very special. Sophia, of course, was well behaved and never made a whimper. She's such a good baby.

After church services, Allison treated us to a delicious pasta meal with homemade Italian bread, which I really indulged in. Dessert was another homemade specialty, pound cake with a topping of strawberries and blueberries. I ate so much that I crashed on Allison's bed while she was nursing Sophia. Within minutes, the two of them joined me in slumber. I hope Robin, Jerry, Sharon, and Brian will forgive us for leaving them with a messy kitchen and two active children.

Welcome, Sophia, to not only our house, but God's house as well. We love you so much.

My Real Age is OLD!

I found an interesting site where one can do the survey and see how one's calendar age relates to their real age. I took the test and was amazed by the results.

In all fairness to me, many positive things contributed to a "younger" me, like the age of my living parents, lack of a history of ovarian and breast cancer in my family, my driving habits, my BMI, and the fact that I swim in a very healthy gene pool.

My failure to exercise in all the ways the survey suggested aged me considerably. As did my diet. Too much red meat, not enough flossing, or fruits, or vegetables or fish. I will disregard the recommendations about fish since I won't eat anything that ever lived in a body of water. My junk food fixations also added a few years to my calendar age.

The good part about the survey - once recovered from the shock of the new age - is that it gives a detailed pattern to follow to reverse the aging process. If followed, the next test results could be much lower than the actual age. Unfortunately, one has to be disciplined and put the plan into action.

I must admit that the list of what I was doing wrong was longer than the list of things in my favor. I'm wishing I'd had a total vegetable meal last night instead of a Frito Chili Pie that tasted ohhhh so good. I have nothing against vegetables. In fact, I love most of them. The trick will be getting the husband to try again those foods he's always hated. And, to discipline myself to coming home from work and washing, dicing, cutting, and cooking vegetables instead of choosing an easy, less nutritious meal.

If you dare discover your "real age", go to www.RealAge.com and answer the questions. It takes awhile, and an hour or so for the results to be e-mailed to you, but it's worth the time spent. If you're looking for a self-improvement course, this is it. Change your lifestyle and extend your life.

I'm still in somewhat of a shock over my Real Age so I won't reveal it right now. It's bad enough that I just had a birthday and thought that new age was shocking, without adding some years on top of it. Let's just say I need to end this post and see if my dentures are still soaking or have somehow made it back into my mouth.

Valentine Baking . . .

Or How To Make A Mess With Grandchildren.

Robin and I kept Jude and Baylee today so their parents could have a deserved day out. Part of our activities included decorating heart-shaped cupcakes I'd baked the night before. We used a strawberry cake mix for its pink color and the complimenting strawberry frosting. We had sprinkles and small heart-shaped cookies to adorn the tops of the cakes. This was Jude's and Baylee's special Valentine surprise for their parents.

As a boy, Jude found the activity fairly mundane. He ate the second cupcake he iced, and opted for sticking a cookie on top of the thrid cupcake without any frosting. Then he was off for more male-oriented fun.

Baylee, however, stayed interested long enough to frost 5 cupcakes. She had her own technique: ice a streak on the cupcake, lick the knife, ice a streak, lick the knife. I made sure those cupcakes made it home with Mom and Dad. Both little angels had "Happy Valentine's Day" ready when their parents arrived to take them and their masterpieces home.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!