Behold.....

The Dog Door. I don't know who invented this thing, but give that woman (or man) a cigar! Sydney took to the concept of free access right away. In and out, in and out. Blu, on the other hand, took some persuading. At one point, we even had Jacob crawling in and out just to show Blu it was okay. Don't laugh...that's how we got him into his Igloo dog house when we first brought that home, too. Jake actually had to crawl inside and call Blu in after him. (Which made Jake getting out a bit of a challenge, but that's another story.) We've had this installed for about a week now and the dogs have adjusted quite well to it. Tomorrow we're going to do a "test run". We're going to leave the dogs alone all day while we check out the Dr. Pepper Museum in Waco and the Dublin Dr. Pepper Bottling Plant in Dublin (Texas, of course). I think they'll be fine, but we'll see how Sydney does with his abandonment issues with us away for the whole day. Hopefully, we won't come home and find him sprawled out in our bed with a bottle of tequila and a pack of cigarettes, lamenting the fact that his family has left him.... (BTW, thank you to Scott for briefing Randey on the stupidity of taking a pet with us on our Mini-Moon. It really was his idea, as you so accurately surmised. Really, it was! lol)

I have to tell you about something we saw at a new restaurant here in town. They had just opened when this happened, and you could tell that they train their employees using a "repetition" method. The employee who was handling the waiting list wasn't at the door when we arrived, so we gave our name at the hostess stand. Shortly thereafter, the list person showed back up. We took seats near the entrance and watched as other patrons came in and were placed on the waiting list. The girl with the list asked the same questions to every single party that came in. "How many?" "Smoking or non-smoking?" (they still have smoking sections here) "Will you be needing a high-chair?". Yeah. The 2 men with the teenaged boy who came in were asked if they needed a high-chair. The man and woman who came in and asked for a table for 2 were asked if they needed a high-chair. The guy who came in all by his lonesome was asked if he needed a high chair. I thought I was going to fall off the bench laughing at the looks on their faces. They'd all sort of pause after she asked...and then seeing that she wasn't kidding, would answer "nooooo" like they were talking to the village idiot. Which maybe she was, who knows.

Some of you already know this, but it's not something I'm overly happy about myself; my husband is a Nascar fan. Yessir. Randey loves him some Nascar. Go figure.

As my father says, what's the point of this "sport"? You already know they're turning left at every corner and the only time it gets exciting is when someone doesn't. But whatever, it makes him happy to watch so who am I to complain? However, there's a couple of things about Nascar that just scream IRONY to me! Like the fact that their weekly qualifying races for the pole position are sponsored by a beer company. Uh-huh. What the heck does that say to America? "Don't drink and drive! But have a beer to celebrate driving the fastest!"???? Another thing, the drivers refer to themselves as "athletes". (Because sitting in a car going 200 miles an hour every week is almost like running a marathon, right?) But these "athletes" biggest sponsor was a cigarette company up until the '90's. Because nothin' says Athlete like a pack of smokes and a twelve pack of Bud (or Coors or whoever it is that's sponsoring the pole race these days), right? To (loosely) paraphrase The Bard...Nascar, thy name is Irony.
One more totally unrelated and nonsensical thing...why is the word "kidnap" and not "kidnab"? I mean, if you grab someone against their will, are you doing so to lay them down for their afternoon sabbatical or are you taking them in an underhanded and snatching manner? Stupid question, I know, but something that I wonder about. (Yes. I hear you. "Kari, get a hobby".) Fine. I'll stop trying to understand the evolution of the English language. It's probably too much to comprehend anyway.

P.S. Just as a matter of interest, how many of you know what a "curmudgeon" is? (Yes, I'm seriously asking this question.)

Saturday of the "Mini-Moon that Wasn't": The Oklahoma City National Memorial

We began our day with a visit to Petsmart. Okay, so actually, we began our day with a visit to Denny's but Petsmart was right around the corner. We bought a carrying bag for Sydney (can't have the little darlin' bruising his paw pads with all the walking we had in mind for the day!). We also bought him a new toy (as an apology for the torment we put him through the previous evening) and some Snausage treats (that he decided weren't worthy of him). Then we headed to Bricktown. Since we're such spring chickens, in the prime of our lives and as physically fit as any Olympic runners, we decided to walk the 347 blocks from the ballpark to the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Yeah, okay. So maybe it wasn't really 347 blocks, but it sure felt that way by the time we arrived. I've got to tell you, though - all kidding aside - it was well worth the effort. I was amazed anew at the sense of serenity and respect I fell there. All of the adults, with the exception of 2 women who were chasing 3 or 4 young children all over the place, were quiet, respectful and somewhat subdued by the memorial. It's so beautifully done. The skyline of the memorial is dominated by what are called "The Gates of Time". These twin gates "frame" the moment of destruction - 9:02. The East Gate represents 9:01 on April 19th, 1995, marking the innocence of the city before the bombing. (Click on the pictures to enlarge)The West Gate represents 9:03, the moment we were all changed forever. According to their literature, it also represents the hope that came from the horror in the moments and days following the attack.In between the gates is the Reflecting Pool (see two pictures down for a better view of this). It occupies what was once N.W. 5th Street. The shallow depth of gently flowing water is intended to help soothe wounds, with calming sounds providing a peaceful setting for quiet thoughts. Visitors may see their own reflection, "a face of someone changed forever". Very, very touching. Next to the gates is the "Field of Empty Chairs". The 168 chairs stand as a reminder of each life lost, symbolizing the absence felt by family members and friends. The chairs are placed in nine rows, representing the nine floors of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. The chairs are placed according to the floor on which those killed worked or were visiting. They're designed in two sizes, the smaller size representing the absence of 19 children. Each chair is crafted of bronze and stone; it's glass base is etched with the name of a victim. By day, the chairs seem to float above their translucent bases. By night, the glass bases illuminate as beacons of hope. The field's actual perimeter matches the footprint of the former Murrah Building. It's lined by a granite path - granite that was salvaged from the Murrah Plaza.
Across from the Memorial is something that actually isn't an official part of the Memorial itself. It's a statue built by a church across the street from what was the federal building. Most of this church was destroyed by the bomb. When they rebuilt, they placed this statue at the corner. It's of Jesus, head bowed in sorrow, with the words "And Jesus Wept" engraved into the base. It's probably one of, if not THE, most touching piece of statuary I've ever seen. Randey and I both choked up and shed a tear or two. The only other piece of rock that's brought this much emotion to the forefront of my mind is our grandson's headstone. I felt the same sadness, pain and melancholy looking at this statue as I feel whenever I see Conner's grave site and yet also the same sense of peacefulness and comfort that God doesn't leave us to feel hurt alone.
Along one side of the Memorial is this chain link fence where people still leave mementos and messages for those who were lost in the attack. I saw the pictures of two little boys, brothers apparently, who died that day. I saw the pictures of two beautiful young ladies in their teens...the pictures were left for their mother, who died when they were but 3 years old and 22 months old. I saw the picture of a woman with her sister, a sister who went to work on April 19, 1995, and never came home. The stuffed animals left for those innocent children, the flowers, the wreaths, the odd bits of things like a set of car keys, a pair of shoes, t-shirts, license plates...all of it was incredibly gripping and poignantly sad to see.
I will never understand the minds that decide killing is the way to make a point. So many people lost, so many families shattered, so many tears shed...and even after reading all about the warped person who "masterminded" this tragedy (whose name I will not mention - he doesn't merit that), I still can't even begin to see the reasoning behind this.

We didn't make it into the Museum - they don't allow pets, obviously. We plan to do that next time. We'll be taking the boys with us then, too. For better or worse, the Oklahoma City bombing is a part of our national history now and I think the boys should learn about it. I was sort of shocked to learn that they don't know that much about it. I forgot how young they were when it happened so while it's been a huge part of my conscience, it hasn't been a part of theirs. I want them to know about this, though. Sure, it's a horrible statement about the cruelty and evil human beings can be capable of, but it's also a glowing testimony of the resilience and goodness of human beings, as well. If you're ever in OKC, I urge you to visit this Memorial. There's so much more to it than I've spoken of in this post. I felt like I was in the presence of something spiritual and healing and good - so much beauty and love from something so horrific and evil. Despite the sadness, the loss, the nightmare of that day, good has triumphed there. And it's laid out for everyone to see. If you want proof of a higher being, of a greater plan, or a meaning of life...go experience this Memorial. You'll see how indomitable the human spirit is and you'll see how good us humans can be. This last picture is of Randey and the Johnny Bench statue at the Bricktown Ballpark. Yeah, we didn't get to see the game (notice who Randey is holding!), but I still got to say hello to JB (his likeness anyway!). Oh and see that bag on the ground to the left of Randey? That's Syd's new travel "purse". I was so bummed out that we didn't get to go to the ballgame or shopping or on the canal boat ride because we had the dog with us, but he didn't seem bothered by any of it as long as he was being carried. I think it's safe to say that Sydney liked riding around in his bag. Take about the "Life of Reilly"! That dog's got it made. And as soon as his doggy door is installed, so will WE!

Lessons Learned: Loud Music, Expensive Tators, Angry Dogs and Two-Toned Hair

Hello everyone! We're back from our Mini-Moon. Considering this was our first foray into the Land of Couple's Who Get Away Together, let me just say that it was every bit as unsatisfying as Murphy's Law would dictate it could be. lol It started out well (famous last words, eh?). We took the boys to my dad's, visited for a few minutes and then headed downtown to our hotel. We wanted to stay at one of the many, lovely Marriott's dotted around that area, but....we're stupid people and brought Sydney the Wonder Dog with us on our Mini-Moon because we couldn't bear the thought of leaving him at home. This sort of thinking basically translates into "We're really bad pet parents!" and here's why: A) Two's company, three's a crowd! (there's a reason that's such a well-known cliche'), and B) What idiot (besides us!) thinks a dog would be happier cooped up in a hotel room all day long instead of lounging in the familiar comfort of his own home? Since we were dumb enough to bring the dog, we ended up staying at a Best Western (and why is it that Randey thinks a Best Western is A-Okay, I wonder???) instead of a Marriott because of the pet deposit. So anywho, we get to the hotel, drop all our stuff off, get Sydney settled (we thought) and decided to try out Toby Keith's restaurant, I Love This Bar and Grill. But first we had to go to Bass Pro Shops. Can't even begin to tell you what a thrill that was for me! (That's sarcasm speaking). Randey was very considerate, though and we were probably only in there for less than half an hour. He was looking at a particular pair of shoes - they didn't have them in his size, but the salesman assured him they would be receiving a shipment the very next day and would have his size then (they didn't). So anyway, we left Randey's Mecca (aka Bass Pro Shops) and wandered on down the canal walk. This is one of the first views we saw: And here's Tobe's place, from the rear (which is how we entered):
Tobe's place was packed, but what the heck. We were on a Mini-Moon, right? What's the rush? So we got ourselves put on the waiting list and headed to the bar. After a few minutes, I noticed a gift shop along one wall and went to check it out. Desiree', our daughter, is a Toby Keith Freak (that's her official title - she even named her dog after him!). I found her a cute little t-shirt as well as a picture of Toby. The t-shirt says "high maintenance" on the front which I guess means something to those in TobyLand - I didn't get it, but it does suit Des and that's all that mattered to me. I took my purchases and back to the bar I went. Where we proceeded to wait some more. And some more. And then yet even more. Just as it looked like we had to be coming up on the list soon, the band started up. Now when I say the band started up, I don't mean they launched into a pleasant rendition of a soothing little ditty. No, no, no. It was more like...well, you know how it is if you happen to get into a car after a teenager has been driving it and you turn the key and this weird, discordant music immediately blasts you out of the seat? Yeah, it was more like that. I don't know what or who that band was but I think Toby should seriously look a little harder into getting a better sound for his place! We tried going out to the patio, but the music was still grating loud enough to register on the Richter scale so we decided to heck with it. There was no point in eating at a place where we couldn't even hear each other talking from a foot away. So we headed down to Mickey Mantle's Steakhouse, across from the ballpark. Anybody else ever been there? It's quite nice. And quite expensive. An appetizer of Fried Asparagus went for $17.95 an order. A ribeye was $39.95, a New York Strip was $37.95...you get the picture, right? But again, we're on our Mini-Moon. Things like sticker-shock don't apply! And besides, it was fairly quiet and after the noise pollution and pain over at Toby's place, it seemed like heaven to us. I ordered a filet mignon in pepper sauce. I swear, it was probably the most tender steak I've ever eaten in all my born days. The flavor wasn't the best I've ever had, but it was good nevertheless. Randey had a sirloin, I think. We both decided against a baked potato because, well heck...I've never eaten a baked potato that was worth the $5.95 Mickey's people were charging. I mean really - unless that potato was laced with fine wine or Godiva chocolate, it couldn't possibly have contained anything making it worth that kind of jack. We did order onion rings and fresh fried okra, both of which were fabulous! Those were, without a doubt, the best onion rings I've ever eaten in my whole entire life! But who goes to a steakhouse just to eat onion rings? So, while Mickey Mantle's Steakhouse was a very pleasant experience, I must admit I prefer the fun atmosphere of McGuire's in Destin and Pensacola. I prefer their peppercorn steak, too!
Anyway....we ate our dinner, stopped for a latte' afterwards and then headed back to the hotel. We got off the elevator, laughing and talking - ahhhh, life's just grand - and about halfway down the hall, we heard him. Syndey the Wonder Dog. Barking and whining and yapping and howling. What the heck????? He's never done that before. We've left him in hotel rooms before. But come to think of it, that was almost 3 years ago....And sure, he's a yapper, but not like this! So we run/walk down to our room and get the door open and there he is...looking like an abandoned little orphan dog. With an attitude. It was obvious that Sydney the Wonder Dog was not going to tolerate sitting in a hotel room the rest of the weekend while we honeymooned our little touristy hearts out. So much for the plans we'd made! Here's the thing, though. After pouting for awhile and after thinking the situation over, we realized that we were pretty much torturing Sydney every time we took him with us whenever we went out of town. Every time we've taken him to my dad's house, we've stressed him out (he has to be either held, put in his carrier or locked outside due to the circumstances). Every time we've taken him to Florida, we've tortured him because he has to sit in a car for hours on end, he's limited in what he can do whenever he gets where we're going and he's generally miserable because of that. All this time, we've been so worried about "hurting his feelings" and making him feel abandoned when we leave town that we've been causing him more harm than good! So, we decided that A) we're getting a doggy door installed and B) the next time we go out of town, we'll pay the dog watcher to come over everyday, twice a day if need be, to give him some human interaction and check to see that's he's happy and comfortable...in his own home! We always have her come over for Blu, anyway. Geez. I can't believe we've been so stupid. I can't believe we became those kind of people....one's who think they're doing the best thing for their pets without really thinking about the pet! But, the important thing is, we've learned from our mistake. And tomorrow I'll tell you more about our visit to Bricktown. Including the limitations imposed by having a dog with you. And all of you out there saying "well, duh!" about our little revelation on pet parenting, zip it! I'm feeling stupid enough as it is. Don't need your help on this one! lol
Now I'll leave you with this:
See my two-toned hair? As I've mentioned in the past, I've decided to just "go gray". For those of you who have ever done this, you know how hard the "transition" period is. I actually went about 6 weeks ago and had low-lights put in to help blend the old with the new. I think it's time to have that done again. lol I've worked so hard at ignoring the difference between the hair coming in and the hair growing out that it just doesn't phase me much anymore. Until I see a picture, that is. Or until someone says something. Like my dad. This was so funny...as we were sitting around visiting Friday evening, I noticed Dad kind of looking at me funny. Finally he said, "Did you add that white stuff to your hair on purpose?". LOLOLOLOL I think he thinks neither he nor I are old enough for me to be that gray naturally. Dad, Dad, Dad. I wasn't sure if I should be offended or flattered. Either way, it was funny. I'm still laughing about the look on his face! :)

Allow me to introduce myself....I am

Yep. That's me. Queen O' the Crock Pot! I'm telling you, I have become a maniac in the kitchen since I discovered how to use this thing! (Susan. Stop laughing!) I've made some pulled pork that is just Out.Of.This.World.Yum-O (in my own humble opinion, of course). Last night I made something called Mediterranean Chicken (Randey loved it, I thought it was pretty good and Jacob ate everything on his plate, therefore I will declare this recipe a success, as well). Last week I made Apricot Glazed Pork Roast. (That sounds so fancy, doesn't it?) lol It was mighty tasty, I don't mind telling you. I'm making it again tonight, as a matter of fact. For you guys to understand the total weirdness of me cooking, you'd have to know just exactly how much I despise cooking. I am not a cook. I am an eater. There's a difference. Spending too long in the kitchen trying to create something is sheer torture for me. It's not an area of the house that I feel....what's the word?....competent, yeah, that's it...competent. Most cookbooks may as well be in a foreign language, for all the sense they make to me. However! Crock pot cooking has changed my whole outlook on this cooking thing. I mean really, most crock pot cookbook recipes are practically idiot proof (okay, so I had that one little issue with that one stupid recipe, but let's not get into that). I can throw 75% of our evening meal together by 9:00 in the morning and can kick back and not think about it for the rest of the day. When dinner time rolls around, I only have to do one or two things (like make rice, mash some potatoes, fix a vegetable or something) and dinner is done. Oh yeah, baby...my kind of cooking. Although, I have to admit that the pulled pork recipe does require a little more work about an hour before we eat...I have to actually pull the pork apart and mix in the BBQ stuff. Still, easy work. This kind of cooking makes me as happy as I'll ever be inside a kitchen. So anywho, rather than throw in 3 or 4 recipes at a time, I'll just post one now and then one later, etc., etc.. I'll give you the Apricot Glazed Pork Roast today. Here goes:

1 can (10 1/2 ounces) condensed chicken broth
1 jar (18 ounces) apricot preserves
1 large onion, chopped (I actually slice my onion because
I have a kid who would rather stick needles under his fingernails than voluntarily eat an onion. He can pick the sliced ones out easier than if I chopped them!)
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 (3 1/2 to 4 pound) boneless pork loin roast

1. Mix broth, preserves, onion and mustard in the crock pot. Cut pork roast to fit and add to the crock pot also.
2. Cover and cook on LOW for 8 to 9 hours or on HIGH for 4 to 5 hours or until done.

Tip: For thicker sauce, mix together 2 tablespoons cornstarch and 2 tablespoons water. Remove pork from crock pot. Stir cornstarch mixture into cooker. Cover and cook on HIGH for 10 minutes or until mixture boils and thickens.

This recipe came out sooooo tasty last week. I can't remember what I served with it then, but tonight I'll add some green beans and potatoes au gratin (thank you very much Betty Crocker Deluxe Potatoes Loaded Au Gratin in a box). Man. Who'd have thought I'd ever sit around planning dinner like this? (Again, stop laughing, Susan!).
Okay, cooking time is over...on to other things. I decided I needed a new front door wreath the other day. My old one wasn't looking springy or fresh. I headed to Hobby Lobby, bought a little this and a little that and here's what I came up with: I need to move some stuff around on it. Too much pink located on the right hand side, not enough fluff on the top left but, generally, I like how it turned out. It's springy/early summer looking and that's what I was aiming for. Now check out this:How cool is this cabinet? Randey and I were at the Benbrook Antique Mall (betcha Teresa knows where that's at!) a few weeks ago and came across this. The price was great! Okay, so maybe the price was average, but it looked great so we snapped it up. I haven't really spent any time setting up the display items inside of it yet. The top where it says "telephone" can be replaced (it's just printed on paper and put inside the glass). I think I'll print up something using a Star Wars style font and put it in there instead of the word "telephone". Maybe I'll print up the word "hyperlink" or "hologram" (Star Wars lingo for "telephone". lol). I haven't decided. Next, get a load of this:My sister, Sherri, sent this to me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find something with the word "Granny" on it? Everything says "Grandma" or "Nana". What up wid dat? My granddaughter (the one that can talk, that is!) calls me Granny. Anyway, the funny thing is, I saw this Jim Shore statue - well, not this one, but you know what I mean - about 3 or 4 weeks ago when we were in Canton, Texas. A few days after I saw it, I talked to Sherri and she asked me if I'd seen it. She, herself, had spied it when she was out shopping somewhere and it caught her eye because of the word "Granny". I thought it was so funny that we'd both seen it at about the same time. I laughed and told her that I'd shown it to Randey, giving him a hint at how much I liked it, but he didn't seem fazed by my hint (he says now that he was just waiting for the right moment! lol). I had to laugh when I opened the box from her. I truly did like this thing when I saw it and knew I'd have to have it sooner or later. 'Course, she told me that her husband said the wolf disguised as Granny was my "true self coming out", but I can rise above that sort of petty talk and see it for the sweet thing it was meant to be. lolololol
Now for some kind of sad news...see Blu Boy, our chow-chow? Isn't he a beauty? This picture was taken back in September, I think. Notice how pretty his coat looks?Yeah. Well. After wintertime, his coat isn't quite so shapely. It's usually thick, ragged, and falling out all over (although it seems to aim mainly for my off-white carpet most of the time). Every year, we get him shaved because of that. He hates it for the first couple of weeks and we have to keep him coated with sunscreen (SPF 50!), but once it starts growing back in, his coat is as soft and silky as can be. Unfortunately, Blu doesn't take too well to the shaving thing. In fact, he's decidedly unfriendly about the whole process. The vet routinely sedates him for these ordeals (it's better for him...he gets entirely too stressed during his grooming!). Anyway, yesterday was that time of year for him. Randey took him in and stayed with him until they put him under. Apparently, they didn't figure up the dosage correctly or they waited too long before they started trimming because just before the procedure was over, Blu started waking up. And he wasn't happy. They'd gotten just about everything shaved....except his feet and under his chin. Now look at the poor thing....He looks like he's wearing boots. The groomers opted to give us a discounted price for the grooming rather than attempt to trim his paws. Blu's attitude was the deciding factor. He let them know that he was F-I-N-I-S-H-E-D with them and was ready to part company. So this is how he looks. I guess we'll get used to his boots. I'm sure we will. It's better than last year, actually. Last year, they insisted on doing the "lion" cut. They left his mane, which was okay, but they also left this giant ball of fur on the end of his tail. Every time he'd see his tail wagging out of the corner of his eye, he'd jump sideways, thinking something was sneaking up on him. lol Poor Blu Boy. Even Sydney the Wonder Dog has been looking at him with pity today....

It's National Pie Day! And I've added other things that I felt the need to share...

Tammy, over at The Pink Magnolia is hosting a "National Pie Day Recipe Exchange" (who'd a thunk such a thing as "National Pie Day" existed?). As I believe I've mentioned before on numerous occasions, I. Do. Not. Like. To. Cook. Nor am I particularly good at it. But behold. I have found a pie recipe that even I have mastered. Probably because no actual cooking is involved. It is, however, generally made in the kitchen so that has to count for something on the "I am Wonder Woman of the Kitchen" scale of life, right? I got the recipe from my niece's childhood friend, who got it from her mother. I begged for months to get this recipe. (See? When I ask for a recipe, nobody takes me seriously!) Anywho, it is so easy to make and it tastes absolutely delicious! This recipe makes two, count 'em TWO, pies and I'm telling you, when you serve one of these babies, people will think you really know what you’re doing in the kitchen! (If you knew the true state of my culinary skills, you'd understand why that statement is, indeed, so powerful). So here it is...the recipe for a

MILLION DOLLAR PIE

Ingredients:
1 20 oz can of crushed pineapple
1 15 oz can of mandarin oranges
1 15 oz can of diced peaches
1 14 oz can of condensed milk
½ cup lemon juice
2 8 oz tubs of Cool Whip®
2 regular graham cracker crusts

Pour fruit into a colander. Drain well (best to put the colander in a bowl and set in fridge. Fruit will drain faster and better in cold temperature – I actually drain mine overnight). After draining all juice, put fruit into a bowl with condensed milk and lemon juice. Mix gently. Fold in 1 tub of Cool Whip®. Spoon into crusts. Top with remaining Cool Whip®. Place in fridge (or freezer!) until ready to serve. Simple as that. The only danger comes in your knowing that this puppy's sitting in your fridge or freezer just waiting for someone to come along and appreciate it's near rapturous glory. (And by "someone", I mean ME!) Ahhhhhh. Hey you know what? I have to make a Wal-Mart run today anyway...I think I may have to purchase the ingredients for this. I usually only make it once or twice a year because, well...as I'm sure you've guessed, I have absolutely NO will power. But will power's for monks and rockheads, am I right? Yes, my leetle chickens, I am.

The rest of this post is totally unrelated to the love of pies so if that's all you came for, you might want to skedaddle before your eyes begin crossing and you start questioning the whole concept of blogging as a whole (my ramblings have been known to have that affect on some, particularly members of my own family - which should speak volumes about just exactly how much rambling I actually do!). Now that the "Public Health Warning" is out of the way, let me tell you about something that happened to me yesterday. I had engaged in what is commonly referred to as "therapeutic shopping". I went to Target and Ross's and Kohl's and Rack Room Shoes...mainly buying for my granddaughters' Easter boxes (boxes instead of baskets because they live in Okinawa and if I sent the stuff in baskets, most of it would probably fall out before it even reached California, you know what I mean?). I had a mahhh-velous time. Then my foot started to hurt, mainly because of the crappy shoes I was wearing. While I love those shoes for their ease of access (they're slip-ons), they'll never win any fashion awards and their comfort only lasts for about 2 hours before my right foot starts threatening to grind its way up to my nasal cavity. (I have some sort of something or other on that heel that I've been meaning to get fixed since 1996, but the stupid doctor said I'd have to wear an orthopedic shoe on that foot for 6 weeks after the surgery and who wants to do that?) Anyway, I ignored my feet for another couple of hours after the outset of "the throb" until I'd reached the point of knocking some poor elderly woman out of her little motorized scooter. That's when I decided I'd better do something. By then, I was at J.C. Penney's so I headed to the shoe department. (Hey, I wasn't done with my therapy yet...I needed new shoes in order to continue). Well. As it turns out, they were having a bit of a sale. Buy one pair, get the second pair half off. And at their prices, that half off turned out to be fairly substantial. So I had no choice really. I bought two pair. And immediately put one pair on so that I could continue with my quest. I found Maddy Moose 3 more shirts and then I found one for myself. I loved it...thought it was bee-u-t-ful! So I bought it. Now we're at the point of the story (I told you I rambled, quit complaining!). I head on up to the check-out station (which, by the way, when did Penney's start doing an Old Navy type of check-out - you know, an entire row of registers, instead of the "register in every department" old way?). Anywho - the cashier dude, who had about 4 different colors in his hair and was wearing an argyle sweater over a funky pair of pants, took one look at me and the shirt I was buying and yelled "Wow! You ARE LOUD!", all the while laughing in what I considered to be a totally unprofessional manner. I mean really! This walking kaleidoscope was commenting on my fashion sense?? After I progressed past the urge to smack him around a little, I realized...he might have a point. There I was, wearing this shirt:
While carrying this bag (which is HUGE):
While purchasing this shirt:
Loud? Well...yeah. Maybe. I guess so. Oh all right! I know so. I think I may have become one of those older women that people point at in crowds. lol My BFF Susan always said I liked gaudy stuff and I guess she was right. Because I love the shirt I was wearing, I positively adore that purse and I'm pretty darn smitten with my new shirt, too. I have to confess...just the thought that there's people out there who would rather wear a burka than be caught wearing a shirt like the new one just makes me SMILE because damn, people! It's bright, it's happy and it feels GOOD to wear it. Take it from me! Stop pointing at oddballs and just become one (if wearing something like this is the new standard for "odd")! And there is one undeniable upside to dressing in things like this....Randey can always find me in a crowded room. We don't need no stinkin' cell phones, he just has to look up and he can spot me from a mile away! ha (Now stop smirking at my shirt, Susan, because I bought you one, too! ha,ha,ha,ha...okay, just kidding. Relax.)

So to celebrate my new-found realization that I am LOUD, I asked Randey and Jacob (Kaleb was working!) out to dinner at a Mongolian Grill (my gosh! talk about D-lish!). After dinner, we got our customary fortune cookies.

Randey's said "You will soon be awarded a great honor". Jake's said "Life is a series of choices. Today yours are good ones". Mine? Mine said "Your judgement (sic) is a little off at this time. Rely on friends". Rut-Row! Surely this isn't referring to my new shirt??????? Naaaaa. That'd just be freaky.

Finally, I'll finish this book...er, I mean post, with some pictures of Sydney the Wonder Dog. While I was shopping yesterday, I came across this little doggy bed for him. He already has a bed, but it's usually kept downstairs and I've long thought that he needed one for upstairs, too. And guess what...he loves it. That's the beauty of Sydney...he loves all his new toys and stuff and acts like it's the most wonderful thing in the world when he gets something new. Unlike my actual children, who have sometimes shown little or no appreciation for my choices in fashion, etc. that I've brought them. And no, before you even think it, I have never tried to make them wear clothes even remotely similar in color and/or shape to mine. Except for that one time when I bought Nick the green shirt and green pants. I thought they looked great. And my sister bought my nephew the same outfit, but in purple. So who do you think came out worse in that deal? Yeah, that's what I said. Nick should have been grateful green was my favorite color and not pink, right? Anywho...gaze upon this beautiful and perfect specimen of Chihuahua.

But look, after taking about 20 pictures, even Sydney seemed to be trying to hide his face from me. Go figure.
Okay. All done. I'm going to make a serious effort to not write posts this long in the future. Except for that tag I just got from Jennifer at Dust Bunny Hostage. Seven random things. Sheesh. I spill my guts on here all the time. Coming up with 7 things that you guys don't know about me is tough. I was supposed to do a tag of five things last month and couldn't come up with even that many. Seven may tax my "expression of the truth". In other words, I may have to resort to lying! lol

I think I heard the nuclear generator kicking in down at the power plant...

The inside is glowing... And now, so is the outside! Randey and Jake worked hard to get the lights up and here's the first pictures of the season to show their efforts. If I know Randey (and I'm pretty sure I do), he'll continue adding more and more until either all our breakers blow or Al Gore sends a team of Nobel Nitwits down here to explain to us just how all our Christmas spirit is bad for the country's energy future. (And then Randey will light him up and he'll be a decoration, too.)

(You can see the "BELIEVE" sign over the front door that I mentioned a few posts ago if you click on the pictures.) These next two pictures were shots of the Christmas tree taken from outside the front window. You can just imagine a crackling fire and a mug of hot cocoa waiting for you in this house, can't you? (Well, imagine all you want, but you wouldn't have found a fire here last night...all those Christmas lights inside tend to warm up the place quite enough, thankyouverymuch! lol).
Now this last picture is probably one of my favorites. Look in that right hand window. Little Sydney the Wonder Dog was staring out at us as we were clicking the pictures. Gosh, I love that little guy. Me. A Chihuahua lover. I bet no one who knows me ever saw that coming. Tune in tomorrow. I plan on introducing you to a very special person in our lives. Just you wait and see who it is! And I also hope to get a few minutes to tell you about the symphony. It was magnificent. I almost cried, it was so beautiful. Yes....I'll have to go into more detail tomorrow because that was a night worth remembering. Until then...

Merry Christmas, Ya'll!

Christmas Jars

***Edited to Add: If any of you get the urge to pass this idea along, please feel free to do so. As I said, I "borrowed" the thought from Kathy at Remembering the Moments and she got the idea from a message board. I read her post and thought "oh what a great idea", but didn't think of blogging about it myself until she responded to my comment and actually suggested I could do so. Thank you, Kathy!!!

Kathy, over at Remembering the Moments, did a post the other day about the book Christmas Jars. A brief synopsis of the book is as follows:

In the book, a journalist happens upon a human interest story that winds up teaching her lessons about love and forgiveness and renewing her own faith in human kindness. On Christmas Eve, twenty-something Hope Jensen is quietly grieving the recent loss of her adoptive mother when her apartment is robbed. The one bright spot in the midst of Hope's despair is a small jar full of money someone has anonymously left on her doorstep. Eager to learn the source of this unexpected generosity, Hope uses her newswoman instincts to find other recipients of "Christmas jars," digging until her search leads her to the family who first began the tradition of saving a year's worth of spare change to give to someone in need at the holiday. (The above information was taken from a review by Publishers Weekly on Amazon)

More than just it being a Christmassy type story though, what really grabbed my attention was the actual concept of having a Christmas jar. I think it's a wonderful way to touch someone's life during the holidays. When I think back on all the hard candy Christmases before I met Randey when I couldn't afford anything special for Nicholas (and later Des, when she came along), I ache a little bit inside at how alone I often times felt. Luckily, I did have people to help me. My mom, Aunt Ginger, Uncle Mike, my grandparents, my sister and brother-in-law...all these people (and others) reached out and helped to give my children some happy memories of opening presents on Christmas morning. And even after Randey and I were married, when Kaleb and Jacob came along, we had some pretty tough Christmases then, too. Again, we had family that reached out to help us. But, after hearing of these Christmas jars, I thought how wonderful it would have been to have received the kindness of strangers. The thing about family helping is that sometimes, you think they probably feel obligated to help you. Do you know what I mean? I'm not saying they didn't help out of love, but sometimes I had to wonder if they felt like there would never come a time when we didn't need their help to provide things for our kids. I think that to have had a stranger, a total and complete stranger, reach out to us during the holidays would have felt...oh, I don't know how to say it...like someone out there saw us for what we were...a young family struggling to give our children happy memories of that most special holiday. And that someone decided to help us with that. Not because they felt sorry for us or because they knew us or because they wanted recognition for making our lives just a tad bit brighter, but because they just wanted to give joy. Period. I don't mean to lessen the love and the help given to us by people we knew. I'm merely trying to explain how it might have felt to have a stranger look on us with kindness at a time when the world could feel awfully big while we felt awfully small. Anyway...this concept of the Christmas jars has captured my attention in a big way. I read that some people are even giving a copy of the book along with an empty jar to people on their Christmas list so that they, too, might come to understand and participate in what could grow to be a treasured Christmas tradition for their families. Me and mine will be talking this over. I just have to convince Randey that all his change should go towards a complete stranger instead of towards his "mad money" stash. lol He's kind of a softie at heart, though, so I don't think it'll take much convincing. And Kaleb's always generous of spirit so he's a shoo in, too. Now Jake...Jake may take some talking to....lol

Look what I saw when I turned around after having checked my e-mail. Sydney the Wonder Dog had followed me upstairs...that part's normal...but he usually curls up on his giant pillow or on the couch. This morning, though, I guess the baby Vader and baby Yoda looked like good company because that's where he decided to spend his morning. Is this not the cutest dog in the whole wide world? Yes, he is. Say it. Yes, Sydney the Wonder Dog is the cutest dog in the whole wide world. There you go. It's good to tell the truth now isn't it?

So Much Absurdity, So Little Time

It has recently come to my attention that I am surrounded by the absurd. Although I guess absurdity is actually a matter of perspective. Something I may think is totally ridiculous may be something perfectly mundane to you. Let me show you what I'm talking about....See this little guy? He's what I got to stare at for about 2 days in a row. For some reason, this grasshopper attached himself to the screen on the window right behind the computer monitor. Every time I looked up, there he was. Through blazing sunshine and through a wicked little rainstorm...he never wavered. Two whole days. He never even moved an inch either way. I wondered what made that spot so attractive to him. And I hope whatever it was doesn't re-occur because I have no desire to stare at his funky self again.
See this watermelon? I think it's absurd. Why, you ask? Because, A) it actually grew in our backyard and, B) it split open about a day after this picture was taken, and C) out of the 4 watermelon plants we planted, this is the only one that grew. And it was gone before we ever got to love it. Therefore, I can't help but feel that this sweet little melon was nothing but absurd.
This is my granddaughter, Maddy. You gotta love this picture. She looks like she's fixin' to belly up to the bar and demand a whiskey with a beer chaser. Maddy was forever grabbing her daddy's hat and putting it on (usually backwards). This was a look for her that my son almost cultivated. He thought it was funny. I did not. Until I saw this picture. It's absurd.
Does this picture really need any explanation as to why it's absurd? Bless his little pea-pickin' heart. He looks like Spike from the Gremlins. So ugly, he's cute. Elwood has a face that, truly, only a mother could love, you know? Speaking of loving mothers, let me ask ya'll this; Have you ever heard a mother say to her child, "Honey, you're not that ugly". Of course not. So why do some mothers think it's okay to say to their child "Honey, you're not that big". Isn't that just as bad? Speaking from experience, I'm gonna go with yeah, it's just as bad. And absurd.

Sydney the Wonder Dog taking a nap. In the chair. Under the blanket. Absurd. (But oh so cute).
Sydney the Wonder Dog taking another nap (he takes a lot of naps...he's a growing boy). Notice his little tongue sticking out? He's so darn cute it's absurd.
Sydney the Wonder Dog showing us his whole tongue. Who knew there was so much of it? Absurdly long, I must say.
This is a picture Jacob took of Kaleb on a road trip to Oklahoma. He wanted to dog his brother for sleeping with his mouth open. Mean, tacky and absurd.
This is a picture of Jacob taken by me to show him how fun it's not to have somebody make fun of how you look when you're sleeping in a car. Everyone, even Jacob, tends to look absurd sleeping in a car. Does this make me mean and tacky, too? Nah. I'm the mom. This was a lesson for him. Nothing mean, tacky or absurd about that. Right?

Kaleb, Randey and Jacob (and Sydney the Wonder Dog). Randey was showing off his Nascar ticket order form for the November race at Texas Motor Speedway and his new t-shirt that the boys bought him for his birthday. The t-shirt says "Hangin with my Gnomies". Yeah. Absurd.

These are our stairs. I think there's only something like 15 steps in total. Feels more like about 300. I'm constantly running up and down, up and down, up and down...about a million times a day. As much exercise as I get going up and down these stupid stairs, I oughta have a butt like a Playboy Playmate. Instead, my rear end is more like the Playboy Mansion. Roomy and slightly obscene. Oh and yeah, the stairs do need vacuuming. But the thought of me doing them? Absurd. Really absurd.

This sign is for sale at Ross's. It's been for sale for about 2 months. Gee whiz, I wonder why? I'm thinking that this is what happens when you contract with factories in foreign, non-English speaking countries to do your signs. They might just accidentally misspell something. Which thing is more absurd? The misspelled words or the fact that Ross's is convinced they can sell it?
These flippin' Dayturas are totally absurd. I think they're indestructible, no? I can't even count the number of times I've cut them back this year alone. And yet they just keep growing more and more. Absurd.
Check out all the purple ornaments at Garden Ridge this year. I started doing a purple themed tree about 6 years ago when we lived in Florida. My dining room and kitchen were done in a "grape" motif so, naturally, the tree for the dining room had to be all purple and white and sparkly. Do you know how hard it was to find purple ornaments 6 years ago? I haven't done my purple tree for the past 2 years. And now they come out with a selection like this. Absurd.
I think these Christmas trees (also at Garden Ridge) speak for themselves. They're saying "We're absurd. Not our colors! Those are...interesting. Vibrant even. But our prices. Wow! Now they're absurd".
A big honkin' giant lives in my backyard. These are plaster casts of his footprints. Think I'm lying? Well duh. Come on. A giant in my tiny little backyard? What? You think he sleeps in the shed? That'd just be totally absurd, don't 'cha think?

And speaking of absurd (which we have been doing , if you'd have been paying attention!!), I just came back from (blog) visiting my very special British friend, Sophie Honeysuckle. You must click on this if you want to see something absolutely absurd and hysterically funny to boot. Do it. I insist. If you don't laugh out loud at what you see, you may qualify for a disability check every month because you most assuredly have suffered from a severe loss of your sense of humor (and if that doesn't qualify as a disability, I don't know what does)!