Not Much Fizz to the Dr. Pepper Tour but Indiana Jones is Still the Man

Bright and early Saturday morning (if you consider 9:00 bright and early, that is) we headed to Dublin, Texas to check out the Dublin Dr. Pepper Bottling Company and Museum. We opted not to go to the Waco D.P. museum because it would have meant a total of 5 hours driving time to include both Dublin and Waco and we wanted to check out Indiana Jones 4 that afternoon, too. Anywho...I'm thinking that this will go down in our family history as a "been there, done that, don't need to do it again" sort of thing. The Famous "Old Doc's Soda Shop" wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Not much there at all, really. They sold t-shirts and other Dr. Pepper emblazoned items and the soda counter offered all manner of D.P. and even some sandwiches and stuff. The tour of the bottling plant, however, made the the soda shop look downright cool. Our 'tour guide' was a young, probably teen-aged, girl who used "um" and "like" in every single sentence she spoke, sometimes even several times within the same sentence, during the 20 minute tour thru the bottling facility and the three room "museum". And if she scraped her hair back behind her ears once, she did it a hundred times. Note to Dublin Dr. Pepper Management: Make sure tour guides can speak proper English, advise them to keep their hands out of their hair, especially when standing next to the bottling machinery and explain to them that stopping their schpeil in the middle of a sentence to explain to the tour how it is they always get confused when trying to pronounce so and so's name doesn't exactly convey a feeling of "ah...she knows what she's talking about!".
We bought the boys a t-shirt each, just so we wouldn't feel like the day was wasted (ha) and we bought Maddy Moose and Kara little Dr. Pepper shirts, too (see below). The coolest thing was this giant Dr. Pepper can that's located down at the end of the block from the museum. Here's Randey and I, poking each other in the ribs as Kaleb took our picture.
(How come he looks normal when I'm poking him, but I look like a stumbling drunk or something??). This next picture is of Kaleb and Jacob next to the "can". They first stood there about 2 feet apart until I told them to "act like they knew each other". This is the pose they gave me for my efforts:
And here's Randey and the boys. After we left Dublin, we drove up thru Granbury and had lunch at Babe's. Don't even get me started on the food at Babe's. Yum-O! Their smoked chicken is the best! Once we got lunch out of the way, we headed back home (had to drop off Randey's left-overs) and then on to the movie theater where we saw Indiana Jones 4.
I wish I hadn't of listened to the critics take on this movie...I spent too much time "thinking" about it instead of just enjoying it. I think I'm going to go see it again. I mean I liked it, I liked it a lot, I just think I missed too much of it because I was trying to see what the critics had pointed out in their reviews. Dumb critics. Don't know why I ever even bother to read a review from the likes of them.
Before I stop for today, I want to clarify why I asked if anyone knew the definition of "curmudgeon" in my last post. And no, people, it's not because someone called me one nor was it because I didn't have enough sense to look it up in a dictionary. I asked because I was surprised that my own teenage sons had never heard the word before. A couple of months ago, we were at a reception hosted by Texas Tech. It was one of those college recruitment things for Kaleb. While there, one of the speakers said something about not promising the students that they wouldn't run into the occasional "curmudgeon" within the ranks of the professors and then she said "Ah. Curmudgeon. Our vocabulary word of the day.". I sort of laughed and said "Like everyone in this room doesn't already know what a curmudgeon is" and Kaleb and Jacob both looked at me and said they'd never heard the word before. What the heck? I thought they would have learned that already, either through vocabulary testing and/or English lit. I know it's not a word we use here at home often (although if Randey's attitude keeps deteriorating, that could change. lololol). When I expressed my shock that my boys didn't know that word, I was informed (and I won't say who was doing the informing) that it wasn't a very "common" word and most people probably didn't know what it meant. Bull-hockey, I say! So I was asking you guys if you knew the meaning. (Wow. Talk about a long, drawn out story to explain something, huh?) Anyway, that's why the question was asked. So don't start sending me e-mail addressed to "Ms. Curmudgeon", thinking that's become my new nick-name, okie-dokie?
The rest of this post is for the scrapbookers out there. I wanted to show you my Mini-Moon booklet. It'll serve as a forever reminder of what goober pet owners Randey and I are. lol
And finally...may you all take the time to think about and remember those who have given their lives so that we may have our freedoms. Memorial Day is for them. May God Bless their souls.


(Click to enlarge photos)

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.)

The Bra Olympics

Who says women are the weaker sex? Forget about the whole giving birth thing, forget about needing that degree in accounting just to keep the bills straight, forget about cooking, cleaning and organizing a household. Forget about all the things that your average, everyday woman does that would cripple your average, everyday man if he had to endure them. Because even if you take all those things out of the equation, I still say a woman is mentally and emotionally stronger than a man could ever be. And just how and why have I arrived at this astonishing conclusion? Well I'll tell you. A man never, ever has to shop for and/or wear a bra. Period. Talk about a Test of Strength! Bra shopping could, and probably should, qualify as an Olympic sport. First of all, not only do bra sizes differ from manufacturer to manufacturer, but they sometimes differ style to style within the same manufacturer (i.e., the Beautiful Benefits bra, size 38C by Vanity Fair, may fit so differently than, say... the Body Elegance, size 38C, also by Vanity Fair, that you may actually wear a different size in that style!). So to buy a new bra, you can't just waltz into the store, pick up "your size", then traipse on over to the register with it. No, sir. You have to pick about 450 different bras to take to the dressing room to try on. Six at a time. (As most of you women know, most stores tend to frown on you taking copious amounts of clothing into a dressing room with you so they limit the number of garments you can take at any one time). So say you "normally" wear a 38C...that means you have to not just find that size, but you also need to check out some 40C's, some 36C's, some 38B's and some 38D's. All in the hopes that one of those sizes will actually corral your girls into some sort of perky, figure enhancing style without actually causing grievous bodily harm to your shoulders, your back and/or to your girls themselves. 'Course, there are stores that have an "attendant". A person who will not only bring you different bras in different sizes, but will also assist you in donning said bras and adjusting the straps accordingly. However. This little chicken (i.e., ME) is not terribly comfortable with having a strange woman jerk me around while trying to snag "the twins" into a set of elastic bowl-like devices. (Heck, I'm not even comfortable with a familiar woman doing that, much less a strange one, but let's not digress.) If you're looking for two different types of bra (for example; a strapless bra and a sports bra) your work is pretty much doubled. Sports bras don't fit the same as a strapless. In fact, no two types of bra fit the same. And heaven knows, they have enough different types out there to torture a person with. So many, in fact, that simply deciding what kind of bra you need can be a mind binder. There's the underwire bra, the wireless bra, the demi-cup bra, the full cup bra...there's the padded bra, the shelf bra, the t-shirt bra and the convertible bra. There's also the minimizer bra, as well as the maximizer bra. I even saw a sign in the dressing room at Kohls that said "Discover our newest brand of intimate apparel....The Push-up Plunge Bra"! Say what? Push up and plunge?? My girls immediately started writhing in agony and I had to cut my shopping trip short just to go home and apply an ice pack to my chest. Oh, okay. That's a lie. But what kind of goofy name is that for a bra anyway? I mean, honestly. I won't even get into the strange visuals that crazy name inspired. Suffice it to say, I think someone down at the ad agency has a sick sense of humor and some idiot at Kohls fell for his joke.

Anywho, whether you call your bra a "Push-up Plunge" or a double-barreled slingshot, a "Live-It-Up Seamless" or a booby trap, the fact remains that shopping for a bra is not for the feint of heart...and actually wearing one should qualify a woman for a merit badge in Long-Term Torture Survival. I don't believe I've met the man who could stand up to the kind of punishment bra wearing entails. But in the interest of fairness, I'm willing to be proven wrong. You fellas, go ahead, strap on a Man Bra and wear it for a week or so. Then let me know how "weak" you think I am afterwards, okay? I'm just saying.

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! :)

We're Goin' on a Mini-Moon!

What's a Mini-Moon, you ask? It's a weekend honeymoon sort of thing. More accurately, it's a weekend away with no children. Yee-haw! Randey and I are going to Bricktown in Oklahoma City. I love Bricktown. It's just cool. Tomorrow afternoon we'll be driving to Midwest City to drop the boys off at my dad's and Randey and I are heading to OKC (yeah, well, it's only about 6 or 7 miles away, so it's not like we'll have a long drive ahead of us from there). We plan on going to the Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum - Randey's never seen it and it is certainly worth seeing. It's so beautiful, the way they've created a place of peace out of something so horrific. And then, of course, we're going to be eating at Toby Keith's I Love This Bar and Grill Restaurant. I've been wanting to go since it opened, but we've never managed to get there. I'm actually not a fan of country music for the most part, but I do loves me some Tobe. We might also visit the OKC Museum of Art - don't know if I can talk Randey into that one yet. Odds are against it, but I'm going to give it a shot anyway. And - I'm happy to report - the Oklahoma Redhawks, a farm team for the Texas Rangers, just happen to be having a home game Saturday night so we're planning on attending that. I love going to those ballgames. It's a wonderful ballpark that has the most awesome statue of Johnny Bench, THE Greatest Catcher in Baseball History, outside the stadium on the 1st base side. I can't tell you the times I've had my picture taken with that statue. One of these days, I'm going to take a ladder with me so I can actually climb up on it and get a GREAT picture of me and J.B. together. lol (Ahhhhhhh...it'd be so worth getting arrested for.....) On Sunday, we'll head back to Dad's, have brunch with them and then head on home. What a weekend! A mini-moon with Big Daddy (aka Randey!) and Mother's Day with my kids. Well, half of my kids. The only thing that could possibly make it any better would be to have all of my kids and my grandchildren with me on that day.
Anywho, since we're going on this little Mini-Moon and since I've recently cleaned out my closet like a madwoman, I decided I needed some new clothes! (I actually blame this on Brenda. I was reading her blog and she was showing some clothes and shoes she'd bought for her upcoming trip to Amish country and I lost all control of myself. Like I told her, I'm probably one of those people who could be hypnotized very easily because WOW, the slightest little hint of suggestion was all I needed to hit the stores!). Now remember, this is a casual weekend, so I bought casual clothes. First is this outfit:

I know, I know...I'm a sucker for bright colors. Can't help it. I showed my restraint when it came to the capri pants. They're dark chocolate brown (which sounds better than just saying "brown"). Then I got this outfit:

I'm actually not much of a fan of HOT pink, but what the heck. Randey's always loved me in pink (I have no idea why) so I'm going with it. Notice the blue jean capri pants have hot pink stitching, too. And then, because I'm a firm believer in "you can never have too many watches", I bought a new watch, too. It's pretty cool....has cross charms all thru it and it jangles. What more you ask for in a watch? (Besides that it tell time, you smart***es!)
I also bought this skirt. I don't know why. I have nothing to wear with it. I didn't need it for this weekend, but I tried it on and loved the way it fit and felt. I'll find a top for it, sooner or later. I hope.
And then, since I had two new outfits, I thought maybe I should look into shoes to go with them. Because of the 3 rows of shoes I have at home, not one single pair was THE perfect pair for either of these "casual" outfits. Although, come to think of it, just how "perfect" does a pair of sandals have to be before you can declare them "workable"? Ah well, the deed is done so it doesn't matter now. Here's what I found:
Cute, huh? Well. After all that fierce and frenzied shopping for little ol' me, I started to feel a tad bit guilty. So I bought Randey 2 shirts, too. The "official" name of the color for the one on the left is called "Lemon Sherbet". LOL Don't tell Randey. He'd have a stroke if he thought he was wearing something called that.
That's my shopping spree. This is what I have to show for my efforts of yesterday. Well, that and another PRIMO crock pot dinner that I cooked. By golly, I'll have you to know, I've cooked every single night this week! Not one dinner out. This is a record in our household. lol Of course, I did eat lunch out. But lunch doesn't count. (That's actually a rule in the Official Guidebook of Cooking, Eating and Spending Money on Food). Speaking of eating out though, I'd like to take this moment to pass on a little advice to any and all out there who work in the service industry for a living. Specifically those of you who work the counter at, say...Chick-fil-a (or anywhere else really) and those of you who wait tables for a living at maybe a Logan's Roadhouse, for instance. Should a robust and/or fluffier-sized woman happen to order a soft drink from you and you are unclear as to what she asked for, do yourself a favor and don't say "Did you say diet coke?". See that's just rude. It'd be better to say "Did you say regular coke?" or "I'm sorry, what was that drink?". This is twice within the last couple of weeks that this has happened to me. The first time, I ordered a coke and the waitress says "Was that a diet coke?" and the second time was yesterday, when I ordered a small lemonade. The chick behind the counter said, "Did you say diet lemonade?". You know guys, it may be your perception that I should be ordering the diet versions of those drinks, but I'm the paying customer. I have been kind enough to choose your place of business to spend my money, thereby helping to enable your continued employment. Try not to insult me, eh? That'd be great. Really. And by not insulting me, the life you save may be your own. I'm coming so close to succumbing to that almost overwhelming urge to pick up your little stick-figured selves and smack you around like the WWF Champion I apparently so closely resemble. Now remember, this advice is for your own good. I haven't gotten violent or loud about it yet....but it's comin'. (This has been a public service announcement brought to you by Kari on behalf of big-butted women everywhere. Thank you.)

American Idol...the Final Four

Notice I didn't say the Fantastic Four. There's only one of these people who has consistently impressed me this season and that's David Cook. The rest of them....notsomuch.Having said that, I'll have to also say that David Cook's first song last night was somewhat less than stellar, in my opinion. But his second one was right on the money. Loved it. I will so be buying his CD whenever it comes out. Syesha thrilled me not. At all. Either song. The first one seemed like Tina Turner Lite (as in lightweight talent) and the second one darn near put me to sleep. Until that big screech at the end, that is. Jason Castro...ahhh, what can you say about the Flower Child of the 21 Century? lol It wasn't until the playback at the end of the show that I even realized what song he was singing the first time around (I remember Eric Clapton's version of that song. Hated it, too!). His second song was much better. Crying shame he forgot the lyrics. Still, I thought the judges were bordering on cruel with him. Makes me wonder what he's done to piss them off behind the scenes. lol Finally, David Archuleta. You know, this kid is incredibly sweet and he just seems so darn nice. And his singing is very nice, too. But that's all I think it is. Nice. Not fabulous. Not incredible. Just nice. But I'm in the minority with that opinion. Most people seem to love his voice. And the truth is, he's such a pleasant personality that it wouldn't break my heart to see him win. But my bet is still on David Cook "for the gold". I think he's definitely got the best future in music! What did ya'll think?

Now before I forget, the Crock Pot Queen (that's ME guys, keep up!) would like to bring you the world's easiest and tastiest pulled pork recipe. Here it is:

Barbecued Pulled Pork Sandwiches
1 pork shoulder roast (about 2 1/2 pounds)
1 bottle (14 ounces) barbecue sauce (I use KC Masterpiece)
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 medium chopped onion (I use dry, minced onions just 'cause I like 'em)
buns or hard rolls

1. Place pork roast in crock pot. Cover and cook on LOW 10 to 12 hours or on HIGH 5 to 6 hours or until done. Now the recipe doesn't say so, but I just can't bring myself to stick that chunk of meat in there without at least some moisture so I add about 3/4 of an inch of water. Maybe you're not supposed to and this is one of those tell tale signs that I'm not a real cook! lol
2. Remove pork after it's done; discard cooking liquid (wonder how much there'd be without that water I added?). Anywho, shred the roast using two forks (pulling it apart, hence the name! duh!). Return pork to crock pot and add barbecue sauce, lemon juice, brown sugar and onion. Cover and cook on LOW 2 hours or on HIGH for 1 hour.
3. Serve on buns or hard rolls.
I'm telling you guys...this is so flippin' easy and tastes sooooooo good. You'll love it. It passes the family taste for yum-0 and the Kari test for easy to make. Thems high standards ya'll! lol

Now for some funny ads from the '70s. Let's just say...WE'VE COME A LONG WAY, BABY!

Yeah. 'Cause I'm all about making "my guy" comfortable during my period. It's the way I've always been.
I loved this shampoo. Don't remember having a boy in science lab hanging all over me just to sniff my hair, but maybe that just means I wasn't using it right. Or maybe the frog innards we were forced to examine kept me too distracted to notice. I'll never know now. lol Oh, and you can still buy it, too. For about $14 bucks a bottle!

And does anybody remember Love's Baby Soft fragrance? It was a great scent for young girls. But in retrospect, and taking into account their advertisements for it, just who were us young girls supposed to be smelling good for? Yikes! This ad looks like something that would have run in Pedophilia Monthly. The girl looks about 8 years old and is wearing more make-up than Gene Simmons at a KISS concert. Icky, icky, icky. Oh yeah, can you see the Love's Baby Soft slogan? "Because innocence is sexier than you think". Eeeeeeeeewwwwwwwww!

And on that disturbing note, I'll sign off. I feel like I should go take a shower now because that last ad made me feel ookie. This'll teach me to take a stroll down Memory Lane with products of yester-year! lol

Alright, I can't leave on that note. It's just too freaky. So here's another ad from those fun-loving '70s. One of the famous Virginia Slims "You've Come A Long Way, Baby" ads! Funny thing about these ads...I love, love, love the concept of how far women had actually come by the '70s (although we've come even further since and still have many, many metaphorical miles to go before we arrive!). But I'm pretty sure that the whole struggle for equality wasn't about smoking a cigarette with ease in public. lol And let me just throw this out there to 'ya...I, personally, smoked for 25 years and, at or near the beginning of my smoking experience, Virginia Slims was my brand of choice. I smoked a lot of them, I did. Lots and lots. And not one time did I ever glance into a mirror and see myself morphing into a Cheryl Tiegs type super model. What the heck? These ads almost promised me I'd be glamorous and independent if only I smoked Virginia Slims! (Dirty, rotten, filthy liars - that's all I have to say about those people!) But don't you just love the slogan on this particular ad? "The Virginia Slims Tool Kit. Because you've got more to fix than your face." Okay, so maybe they did try to tell me I wouldn't ever look like Cheryl. But I think they should have marketed more than a stupid tool kit and a pack of cigarettes if they wanted to really help me out with that!

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....

I'm Finally Out of my Closet!

A-HA! You guys took that all wrong didn't you? I'll have you to know, I 've been cleaning my closet - a job that required a lot of time, energy and perseverance. But I survived it (yeah, I know. I'm a rock, huh?) First, though, Aunt Sandi, Kat, Joan....and anyone else who has asked about my whereabouts (thank you for that, by the way!)...my apologies for not answering you sooner. See here's the deal. Randey had to go out of town - again! - for his job. It was the fifth out of town trip he's had to take since January. I mean good grief, I've been patient and understanding (in my own little way, of course) up till this time. Enough's enough, though. When you start averaging more than one trip a month, you've gone too far (or, more accurately, you're gone too much). After all, as I very succinctly said to Randey, I did not marry a Navy guy or a Marine fella' or an Army dude. I married an Air Force man. An Air Force man who has since become an Air Force Reservist and, what's more, an Air Force Reservist who is no longer activated. My tolerance at playing "single mom" and my ability to sweetly sit back and keep the home fires burnin' while my dearly beloved traveled these United States has drawn to an end. So, in order to keep from losing my mind and to stop myself from saying words I was sure to regret one day, I threw myself into doing some things that I've put off doing for years. Stupid, boring, time consuming things, like cleaning out my half of our closet. What a mess! Apparently, I've never met a pair of black shoes I didn't love because I found about 2 dozen pair underneath the 30 pairs of dress pants I owned that will never stretch over my arse again! And the skirts! I found skirts I don't even remember buying. (Hello, my name is Kari and I am a shopaholic and a pack rat.) But...after much sweating, cursing, culling and disgusted head-shaking, my part of our closet is CLEAN! Yay me! I took 4 giant contractor sized garbage bags, 1 regular kitchen sized bag and 2 boxes of stuff to Goodwill. No, it didn't all come from my half of the closet. (Geez...how big of a pack rat do you think I am?) Half of one of the boxes came from stuff I cleaned out of the storage underneath the stairs. lol The upside of all this cleaning and purging is that I was able to work through my feelings about Randey's job traveling without resorting to too much violence but the downside was that I didn't blog or even so much as talk to anyone I didn't have to. (I wasn't really fit for human interaction anyway...I swear I actually saw fire coming out of my ears, eyes, nose and mouth at the height of my fury! lol) Randey's office is now looking into changing things up a little bit so that he won't have to travel as often. Time will tell if the changes are effective. I will say this much; pity the person who fails at making this plan a reality because hell hath no fury like a woman left raising teenagers alone!!

After I exhausted myself with all the cleaning, I decided a little escapism was in order...so I went to the movies. One movie I saw was Made of Honor. Everyone told me that this movie wasn't getting great reviews, etc. I'm here to tell you: Everyone was wrong! This was a really cute and funny, funny, funny movie. Sure, it was predictable, sure you could guess where it was going almost every step of the way, but still! I found myself laughing outloud over and over again. (The restaurant scene and Grandma's new necklace were the best parts.) I recommend this for a fun little date movie. It was cute, it was entertaining, it was sweet and, most of all, it was funny!



I also saw Street Kings. I liked this one more than I thought I would. A whole lot of violence, but a good story anyway. Not great, but good. God help me, I never thought I'd say this, but Keanu Reeves actually seems to be maturing. I know, I know...that's kind of a bold statement, but truth be told, I haven't really enjoyed him this much since his movie Speed. I usually think his delivery is kind of wooden and boring. I don't dislike him, he just doesn't usually thrill me. But his portrayal of his role in this movie was definitely above average. I'd probably even watch this movie again one of these days.


I actually saw this next movie a couple of weeks ago, before Randey left for his latest trip. We'd heard that this one was going to be funny. Hmph. This is a prime example of "Don't believe everything you hear". Randey thought it was pretty funny. Me? Not so much. I'll confess...I don't mind a little raunchy humor every now and then, I don't. But when raunchy slides on into gross, I'm no longer laughing. I'm not sure where I think this movie went wrong, I just know I didn't enjoy it. I found myself checking my watch to see when it would finally be over. Oh, and just in case you haven't heard, this movie features full frontal male nudity. Several times over. (Yeah. And I hadn't heard that prior to the show). Unexpectedly seeing the "leading man's" junk in all his imagined glory up on the big screen was not the thrill that he perhaps thought it might be. In fact, I started to understand exactly why Sarah Marshall dumped him...

This Saturday afternoon, Randey and I went together to see Ironman. I really liked this movie. I mean, I really liked this movie. I love Robert Downey, Jr. (anybody else see Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang???). I think he's a wonderful actor. I enjoy watching him pretend for a living. lol (Those who have read my rants about Players and Pretenders will probably know what I mean by that.) This movie combined action and humor as well as a pretty good story line. I would definitely watch this one again and in fact, probably will. Some of you may have heard about an "extra" scene that is shown after the credits are done rolling at the end of the movie. It's true. There is an extra scene. But I don't think it's worth waiting for if you're not a big comic book fan. I say that because Randey and I (and most of the other movie-goer's over the age of 30 who were there) felt like we had wasted 10 minutes of our lives by waiting for that last scene to appear. Kaleb and Jacob (who saw the movie Friday night) thought it was absolutely wonderful and well-worth the wait. They still don't understand why we weren't thrilled to see that 30 second "preview" of what is sure to be the sequel to Ironman. Then again, Randey and I don't read comic books. Kaleb and Jacob do. 'Nuff said.
Okay - I'd better stop posting now. Hope to be back tomorrow. Maybe then I'll tell you about my Crock-Pot cooking. I'm fast becoming the crock-pot queen. Why didn't I discover this thing sooner??? Who knew cooking could be so flippin' easy? lol