Mother always said it would happen.
I didn't listen.
I was young.
I was carefree.
She would repeat it often.
Oh, how I wish I would have heeded her advice!
Because now it's too late.
It's already happened!
Mother always said if you keep making that face, it's going to freeze that way.
Today I woke up with a wrinkle in the middle of my forehead that can only come from spending way too much of my life with that "What the …….?" look on my face!
Do they have botox for this?
Hurry, people, I need help!
Awhile back, Midlife Slices posted a recipe for this:
photograph courtesy of Midlife SlicesA day or two later I received the same recipe from my cousin, QTPie. I'm a pretty good cook if I say so myself but baking is not my thing. It's the measuring. Well, that and the fact that I can't seem to follow directions exactly to save my soul. Nevertheless I was inspired by this very seasonal recipe and just had to give it a shot. Alas, even after several text messages burning up the airwaves between here and Texas, this is what I came up with:
I call it Blob-O-Bread
This is the result of my second attempt:
It was still a little gooey in the middle but came out much better. If you attempt this recipe, it's a very tricky making sure that it's done. The cheesecake filling is supposed to be gooey so it's hard to test with a toothpick. I have no advice but wish you better luck than I had. The best part was that both the Blob-O-Bread and the pretty ones were delicious.
And I felt so much better when MLS posted this picture a few days later:
(Does that make me a bad person?)
I kind of left you hanging with Part I of this story. I was in the middle of having a heat stroke, threatening to shoot my husband and trying to put the thought processes together in my sun-fried brain that would enable me to find the nearest airport P.D.Q. Fortunately for all concerned it got much better from there. We rode into the Badlands on a wing and a prayer. I can't speak for the others but the prayer playing in my head was, "Please, God, make me a bird so I can fly far, far away!"
We arrived at the Circle 10 Motel having nothing on our minds other than cooling off in any way possible. The Circle 10 at first sight is nothing to get excited about but it was everything we needed and more. It was clean, it was cool, there was a pool and there is a little cafe there that was definitely a diamond in the rough. The motel is run by a very friendly couple. Mr. C10 runs the motel and Mrs. C10 runs the cafe. We arrived there late afternoon. Upon check-in, Mr. C10 told us about the cafe. We barely listened as we were obscessed with cooling off our over-heated body parts.
MHS and the Biker Nazi love to take pictures of their bikes. Personally I like people in my photographs. ...Men..?
The Saint standing dangerously close to the edge.
If you are interested in learning more about the Badlands and how they were formed, click here.
Goodfather of Goodfather Blog asked a question the other day. Faced with the possibility of losing his job in a failing economy and seeing it as an opportunity to reinvent himself, he asked, "Are you doing what you want? If you could choose anything for a job, what would it be?" I commented with lightning speed as I usually do without giving it much thought but the question has haunted me. It comes in the middle of the night. It whispers in my ear while I'm driving down the turnpike. I'm being haunted by the Goodfather Ghost.
I have a great job. I am blessed with an employer that appreciates me and my abilities. I would be a fool if I didn't see that alone as the gift that it is. I would be an even bigger fool to even consider a voluntary career change while we are experiencing this temporary economic slump. (I am nothing if not a cockeyed optimist.) But still the question is begging to be answered properly. When I was younger, I always thought that I wanted to be a teacher. Fortunately for me and my would-be students I realized early on that I really only like good kids. Don't get me wrong, I love mischievous kids. I love the stinkers. Who I can't tolerate are the disrespectful, smart mouth (imagine that) kids that are so prevalent in today's schools. I don't know but I'm pretty sure you have to teach them all, not just the good ones. I am proud to say that my oldest daughter is a teacher and my youngest is currently majoring in elementary education. They are both better women than I will ever be.
I took an English elective in high school called Write On. Each day we were instructed to write an essay. Almost everyone who took the class became frustrated with writing an essay every single day. Not me, I loved it. The thought of pursuing writing as a career never occurred to me. I didn't go to college. I got my MRS. Degree right out of high school. I didn't take the opportunity to explore my options. Not that it matters much as I don't think I possess the talent of a true writer. But the bug persists.
Once I had kids, I was always telling them that I was going to write a book. Whenever some silly moment would present itself, D2 would often comment jokingly, "I bet she's going to put this in her book." I have the outline for a children's book completed. The book itself will probably go to the grave with me. I am always scouting locations for writing. I found the perfect location on our trip out west. We came upon one of the most serene, breath taking places on the planet and stopped for pictures and a rest for the buttocks. The thought popped into my head to send the others on their way and I could just stay there in that lovely spot on a blanket of soft cushy grass instead of a brick that posed as a motorcycle seat and write my long awaited book. Of course I didn't even mention this to anyone else because no one ever takes me seriously when I talk about writing including myself.
Now remember that Goodfather's question didn't include anything about qualifications. He simply asked, what would I do if I could do anything I wanted. I guess my answer would have to be that I want to write. I can't believe I just said that out loud! Or… umm… in print?
So a writer I will be. The following is a list of ways I can feed my passion while not giving up my day job:
Palm Beach Daily News
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Dysie Davie, a longtime Palm Beach resident, died Saturday, leaving behind a fabulous obituary that she wrote herself. We couldn't imagine doing a better job for her than she did for herself.
"Diana Marion Wing Davie, 'Dysie,' passed away at her home in Palm Beach on November 15. Mrs. Davie was born in New York City, New York, and the date is no one's damn business. Dysie survived all four husbands, namely to wit: John Kress "Jake" Williams, "Hot Dog" Chandore, Craig Mitchell, and last, but not least, E.T. Bedford "Buddy" Davie. Dysie credits this to lots of partying, full-bodied wines, expensive vodka, and dealing with everyday life and people, no matter what you are dealt.
"Dysie and her last husband, Buddy, of 44 years (the longest lasting of all four marriages) owned and managed '343' on Worth Avenue, an exquisite custom jewelry and objects d'art emporium. Mrs. Davie, responsible for all custom jewelry designs, was never given full recognition due to Buddy always taking credit for her ideas. Mrs. Davie was a member of the Sailfish Club, the B&T, and the Everglades Club in Palm Beach. Dysie will be well-remembered for her engaging sense of humor, her gracious generosity, and her fabulous luncheons at the Sailfish Club and dinner parties at home for her many friends. Kassatly's Inc. thanks her mostly for her generosity.
"She is survived by her son, Stuart Wing Williams, his wife Jill, and their entire brood; stepchildren E.T. Bedford Davie Jr. and Deidre Davie Quonbeck, their spouses, children, grandchildren, and whatever doodley dums are out there.
"Mrs. Davie will be interred in the family plot in Willowbrook Cemetery in Westport, Conn., across the street from her beloved Buddy, as a plot next to him was not made available. Donations to be made to Dysie's household staff, namely; Helen Grenier, house manager extraordinaire; Diane Kirkham, daily shopping companion; Nancy Roach, Peggy Kelly and Suzanne Beck, outstanding nursing team; and Brenda Woodward, weekly party organizer."
Wasn't she FABULOUS!
***Note***
I hope that I won't get in trouble for copying this from the newspaper into my blog. If this is a problem, let me know quick so I can pull it. Do you think they would let me bring my laptop to jail?
Don't be confused by the lime. There is no lime in the recipe. That was for the Corona.I got this recipe from a former co-worker/friend who is an African-American woman. At the time, her husband had just returned from serving in the military overseas. Upon his return, their church had a welcome home party for him. Our whole office was invited. Our table consisted of all white people and we were the only white people in the church. We were hard not to notice.
During the ceremony, each table was asked to have one representative speak to or about this honored soldier. Our office manager was supposed to speak but she didn't show. I was the business office manager and next in the chain of command, therefore elected to speak for our group.
On Monday morning, my friend told me that the women from her church had asked about who that white woman was with a butt like a black woman. She told them that I was the business office manager and her friend. She then proceeded to tell them that not only did I have a butt like a black woman but I have the heart of a black woman and can cook like a black woman. I have no idea what that means but I know it was a compliment. That was the day she gave me her cornbread recipe.
This cornbread is so moist; I usually eat it with a spoon. It does hold together but is very moist and sweet. If you like your cornbread dry and not very sweet, you should skip this recipe.
2 boxes Jiffy cornbread mix (Don't be judgin' me because it's a box) I've tried making it from scratch and it never turns out as good.
2 eggs
2 heaping Tablespoons full of sour cream (I'm talking about a real table spoon here, like for soup. Not a measuring spoon.)
1 small can cream of corn
A splash of milk
Preheat oven to 400 degrees farenheit
Stir until all ingredients are evenly mixed but be careful not to overmix. The batter will be lumpy. Spray cooking spray into 8x8 baking pan. Pour batter into pan and smoothe mixture evenly. Bake for 25 minutes. A toothpick should come out clean when done.
This is very easy. Remember do not follow the box instructions. I'm sorry that I can't be more specific with the measurements. I can only tell you that I've made this hundreds of times and I'm sure my measurements are never the same twice. It always works.
Enjoy.
There's a little nip in the air. All across the country we hear tell that winter is approaching. I don't think the temperature got up to 70 degrees farenheit here today. Now before you go sending me hate mail and leaving comments about how I'm such a biatch for complaining about great weather, let's be clear: I'm not complaining. In fact I love it! I'm simply stating that it's getting cooler/colder all across the country and Canada too. I know this because My Harley Stud gives me a weather report for the location of pretty much every friend and relative we have every morning.
What is it about middle age men and their fascination with the weather? When D2 was getting ready to go off to college, D1 informed her that, "Every telephone conversation you have with Daddy will start with: So what's the weather like there?" It's not just MHS either. I call my Daddy almost every day on my way home from work. Almost without fail, every conversation will include the difference between the weather here and where he lives, 200 miles north of here. Both MHS and the Biker Nazi have downloaded special weather applications to their phones so they can easily check the weather conditions any where they please. And they please to check them everywhere everyday. My brother, Smitty, watches the weather channel on Maui and if he sees a storm anywhere in the state of Florida, he will call to make sure I'm OK. I have a cousin, BoBo, who drives cross country for a living and he also is a weather channel fan. I guess that should be expected in his line of work though. My point is that every man I know of middle age and up fancies themselves as some sort of meteorologist. I almost forgot to mention our friend, Wolfgang Johnny, who actually is the chief meterologist of our local news station. We blame him for every crappy day we have. And the poor guy gets no credit when the weather is good.
The funny thing about cooler weather when you live in Florida is that we have so few opportunities to wear our winter clothes. So if the temperature dips into the 60's you will see everyone's leather jackets and boots, wool sweaters and scarves. Yeah we bundle up like it's a daggone blizzard because we know this may be all the cool weather we get and we have to wear every piece of winter apparel that we own while we can. It's pretty funny because usually by noon, everyone is mellllllttttting. Layers, people, it's all about layers.
With the cooler weather upon us, MHS and I love a fire in the fire place. It's so cozy. It doesn't take too much of a drop of the mercury for us to turn off the a/c, open the windows and build a roaring fire in the fireplace.
A few days ago Daddy mentioned that Daisy made a Hoosier specialty for dinner: Beans and cornbread. Jan over at Jan's Sushi Bar mentioned black eyed peas and cornbread the other day too. Between the two of them, I started to long for, crave and dream of a big pot of ham and beans and buttery cornbread. I'm pretty sure my cornbread recipe is the best in the world. No lie! I thought about posting the recipes for these two delectable concoctions but I'm not sure that I am not just one of a few people that like this sort of comfort food. MHS loves the cornbread but is not a big fan of beans unless it's chili. So if you're interested, let me know and I will share. Be warned though, I measure nothing.
I'm still trying to shake this stupid cold and skipped the gym today so I thought that enjoying some comfort food and relaxing by a nice fire might be just the ticket to cure what ails me. That and the Airborne that Midlife Slices and D1 keep pushing on me. *wink* Love ya, ladies! And PS neither one of them bothered to tell me how terrible it tastes!
When My Harley Stud told me in February 2007 that he and the Biker Nazi wanted to take The Saint and me on a bike trip out west that summer I laughed. Until that time I had not been further than an hour's ride in any direction away from our home. These men are no dummies and they started working on me months in advance. The Biker Nazi and The Saint had owned their bike for much longer than we had ours and The Saint, while never going on a ride of this duration, had been on many shorter trips with the Biker Nazi and their friends including the Great Hunter and the Texan. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to take it and would ruin the trip for everyone else. I was nervous because I wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of riding a motorcycle everywhere I went for two weeks. I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to pack all the necessities that I require on any trip long or short. I wondered if there was an exercise you can do to prepare your butt for such punishment? MHS assured me that we would take the GPS with us, I would be able to locate the nearest airport and he would take me there no questions asked any time I decided to bail.
So with the promise of a GPS and a ride to the airport of my choice as my insurance policy we began to plan for our trip out west. Now I may be dumb but I'm not stupid and there was no way I was riding a motorcycle from Florida to Indiana just to leave again on said motorcycle for an even longer trip westward bound. MHS loaded the bike into the truck and we drove to Indiana. Once there both MHS's bike and the Biker Nazi's bike were loaded onto a trailer because, let me repeat myself, these guys are pretty smart and they knew the shorter the actual ride, the better chance of success and peace in their homes. Because everybody knows that IF MAMA AINT HAPPY, AINT NOBODY HAPPY!
The morning after we arrived in Indiana, we set off early in the Biker Nazi's truck with the bikes in tow for Norfolk, Nebraska. We arrived in Norfolk by early evening where we were graciously hosted by friends of BN and TS, a family from our home town, the stunt man and his lovely wife and children. They have a beautiful home just outside of Norfolk. The guys got busy right away unloading the bikes from the trailer and getting everything ready for us to leave in the morning. The Saint and I had the pleasure of catching up with Mrs. Stuntman while being serenaded by the musical stylings of their 4 year old son on his toy guitar. Life is a Highway was the song of the day and quite appropriate if you ask me. The man knows his audience.
The next morning we set off with our bikes loaded up with supplies like two pack mules. Goodbyes and thank yous were given quickly to Mrs. Stuntman and the boys. The Stuntman had left early for work.
Our first stop after breakfast in town was to stop at the local country radio station where the Stuntman is the Operations Manager and morning DJ. We received a quick tour of the station. Then the Biker Nazi and MHS were interviewed on the air about our trip.
With no more excuses to put it off any longer great excitement, we set off on our journey. It was cool that morning and the ride was pleasant. BN had done this trip before and warned us that we should fill up with gas at every opportunity because we would be taking the back roads and there was no telling where the next filling station would be. I liked this idea initially because it meant more stops until I realized that it also meant the possibility of being stranded in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately that didn't happen.
It wasn't long before we made it out of Nebraska and into South Dakota. The morning coolness had disappeared. It was hot. I mean really hot. If you've never been on a bike before, usually the air moving past you will cool you regardless of the temperature. That rule doesn't apply when it's 114 degrees. Yes, that is what I said; one.hundred.and fourteen.degrees! It was like driving through a furnace. We would buy bottles of water at each stop. If we didn't drink the entire bottle before we left, they would be HOT by the next stop.
At one point when we hadn't stopped for awhile, I started having my own little mini-nervous breakdown. I was hot. I was tired of being on the bike. My butt hurt. I was thirsty. And with each turn that didn't find a gas station where I could get off the damn thing and rest, my mood worsened. MHS was leading and we finally came upon a gas station on the outskirts of a small town. It was really more of a pole barn with pumps in front. It didn't look very inviting. MHS continued on driving toward the town. I am telling you right now that if I had a gun at the time, I would have shot him, pushed him off and done a u-turn back to the station! He did eventually go back once he found that it was the only station in town. By that time, I was really mad at him. I may have been a bit irrational in my anger. I was finding it hard to concentrate and hard to breathe. I had a headache and may have been suffering from heat exhaustion although I've never checked the symptoms. All I knew was if that was an example of what I could expect on the trip, I would be exercising my right to find the nearest airport soon.
***Stay tuned for coming attactions: "THE MAKING OF A BIKER CHICK - The Badlands" coming soon to a blog near you.***
While I am always grateful for the blessings mentioned here that make my life complete, today I am counting the simple joys in my life that add a little kick and make me smile. As you will see, it doesn't take much to make me happy.
I'm feeling a bit under the weather today and finding it hard to put a complete thought together. (even more than usual) So since my brain is jumping from one thing to the next at lightning speed, I figured it would just be easier to go with it. Jan over at Jan's Sushi Bar sometimes does a Friday Randomness post but today she has great recipe instead (check it out) so in the spirit of Jan's idea, here in no particular order are the thoughts going through my head today:
It has come to my attention (D2 is a double agent) that Nole Boy has some country, Rascal Flatts and Taylor Swift, on his ipod. I think that means I'm the WINNER! Yippie! I mean, all I wanted to know was that he liked country music. Sooo, if it's on his ipod, I think that means I'M.THE.WINNER! I received an email this morning from him saying that my last attempt was "awful". And he thinks most rap is not appropriate to be sending to his girlfriend's mother (I reminded him, garbage in, garbage out) so his new strategy is to shuffle his ipod and send me whatever comes up first. While he doesn't have to convince me to like other genres, I like them all (except rap), I will continue to play our game since it will be fun and interesting to see what he likes. And since I am THE WINNER and no longer have to convert him as he is already converted, I will stop thinking about what he might like and instead send subtle messages: Like "Mama has a real bad temper and Daddy has a shotgun". He's gonna love me!
I love the Rockettes. They were on the Today Show this morning. There is something about watching those beautiful women step and kick in perfect time that makes me smile. I know I should be offended because it's just not fair for someone's legs to be that long. Have I mentioned that I'm 5'2"?
I think it's funny that while growing up all of D1's friends called me Mrs. Broad and D2's friends called me Ms. Smart Mouth. Growing up in Indiana, we always called our friends' parents by their first name with no Miss, Mrs or Mr. My mother who was raised in Illinois found this to be very disrespectful. What's it like in your neck of the woods?
I mentioned that I'm under the weather. This brings to mind comfort food.
What's your go-to food of choice when you're feeling puny?
Why is it so hard to find the perfect pillow?
Some (most) might say that I suffer from A.D.D. I like to refer to it as SASS. Short Attention Span Syndrome. It's becoming more and more difficult to stay focused. Oh, look, something shiny. *sigh*
As I write this, I'm enjoying a cup of Captain Michael's Full Steam Ahead Savannah Seduction coffee. Boy, that was a mouth full. It's quite yummy. MHS found it in the Paula Deen store while we were waiting for our table at the Lady and Sons. And you can purchase it online. Gee, these people should pay me for endorsements. LOL
Why is it that many of us bloggers who never rarely cuss curse in our daily lives swear like drunken sailors on our blogs? It's certainly true of me. And I've heard it all over. D2 told me, "Mommy, you're a potty mouth on your blog." Around here, if I say a bad word, it's like that old EF Hutton commercial, everything stops and everyone listens.
OK, the random thought going through my head right now is that I MUST get up off my arse and get something done around here. This place is a mess and the tissues are starting to pile up. I should probably go disinfect the place.
Please feel free to leave your random thoughts here with me where they will be safe.
Til we meet again…aaaahhhhhh choooo!
I have a rule. I believe that anyone worth their salt likes country music. I would and often do go as far as to say that if you don't like country music, then you don't have a soul. Oh sure, I have friends that I love dearly that claim they don't like country. I think they're lying. Or maybe they are in denial. They just don't KNOW that they like country music yet. I mean where else can you play music backwards and get your dog back, your wife back, your house and your job back. Sorry, I know it's an old joke, but I love it anyway. I crack myself up sometimes. I'm corny like that.
What I love about country music is that it usually tells a story. Sometimes the story is humorous. Sometimes it's sad. Sometimes it's a delightfully sappy love story. But almost without fail there are some good old fashioned, wholesome values there that cannot be denied even when we're talking about drinking whisky and reading the bible in the same song.
As I write this post, I am watching the 42nd Annual CMA Awards ceremony. Country music is so much more than Conway Twitty twang. Not that there is anything wrong with that genre. I love me some twangy music too. But country is so much more than just that. My parents love(d) country. My kids love it. It's the one area of music that we can all agree on and survive a roadtrip.
And then of course, there's Brad Paisley. I love his humor and his musicality. I mean, what's not to love about a song that says, "I wanna check you for ticks."?
I have a problem. Daughter #2 has fallen for a boy who claims he doesn't like country music. And he seems like such a nice boy too. I told you about them, remember. I showed you their picture. Cute kid. Well mannered. Comes from a good family. Wants to be a lawyer. (OK, so he's not perfect.) But how can I allow D2 to continue this romance if the guy doesn't have a soul!
So, I've started a campaign to save his soul. For the last few days, I have been emailing him songs trying to convince him that he really does like country music and then I can rest knowing that he does indeed have a soul. Below is a copy of the correspondence that has taken place thus far:
From: Smart Mouth Broad
Date: Tuesday, November 11, 2008 10:01 pm
Subject: Just trying to save your soul
To: Nole Boy
Attachment: Brad Paisley's "Waitin on a Woman"
This may not convince you to like country but it might help to
understand why you're always waiting. LOL
But I will convince you that you like country if it kills me.
I'm sure you do have a soul.
From: Nole Boy
Sent: Wednesday, November 12, 2008 12:07 AM
To: Smart Mouth Broad
Subject: Nice try!!!!!
Haha, Well unfortunately Mrs. Broad that one just didn't appeal to me.
But it did sound alot like D2 : ).
You can keep trying but I'm warning you I'm one tough cookie and I
don'tcrack easily. So I look foward to more attempts to save my
soul,lol.
Gotta admire the kid for sticking to his convictions.
From: Smart Mouth Broad
Date: Wednesday, November 12, 2008 7:35 pm
Subject: RE:Nice try!!!!!
To: Nole Boy
Attachment: Darius Rucker's "Don't Think I Don't Think About It"
OK, strike one.
How about this one? He's African American. It's almost rap. LOL And it's
Hootie!
Let me know.
:-) SMB
And his answer:
So that's what happened to Hootie.... But where are the Blowfish????
It actually wasn't terrible,
but it's going to take a lot more than that to make me a fan, lol.
So far, no luck. What's a girl to do?
Then it came to me! That light bulb moment. What is it that Oprah says? "AHA!" Yeah, that's it. I have millions of more than three readers who can help me out here. I need some suggestions. What songs can I send that will guarantee success? And please be quick about it. Christmas is coming and I don't want to have to buy this guy a gift if he doesn't have a soul and he'll be history before New Years!
***Note**
I received an email last night at 1am from Nole Boy. (He's a college kid and keeps those kind of hours)
It appears that Nole Boy feels that if I am trying to convert him to my country way of thinking that it's "only fair" that he open my eyes to the joys of, Lord, save us, RAP music. We (like how I've included you) have to step it up a notch, people. Because I love all music but rap just makes me want to hurt someone. Don't let that happen. I need to accomplish my goal even faster now, puleeeeze! It's GAME ON!
My big sister, Snips, is visiting from Indiana. No trip to Florida is complete without a day at the beach and Snips loves the beach. Once there, she absolutely glows with excitement. Taking Snips to the beach is like buying that favorite longed-for toy for a child. It's just fun to watch her have a good time. My Harley Stud, Daddy, Daisy, Snips and I drove over from the lake to St. Augustine beach a few days ago. The beach in St. Augustine is similar to Daytona Beach and we were able to drive right on the sand. We spent a couple hours just walking along, bird-watching and shell collecting. It's really beautiful there and so relaxing. 
OK, so if you go back to the beginning of this blog, you will find that it was started with the idea of improving my fitness level and losing weight. I was putting myself out there into the great big bloggy world and making myself accountable. It is an ongoing struggle that challenges me and sometimes p*sses me off. I've exercised regularly for a few years now after a long lapse of sedentary living. But even with all my extra activity, my quest for weight loss has failed miserably. But I always say, "Even when I fall flat on my face, I've progressed at least five feet and two inches." I'm not a quitter. I started pushing myself in the gym to try new things and spice up my work-out routine. I began to "really" watch what I ate as opposed to the healthy appetite diet I had been practicing for years. And things were going well. I lost a few pounds, 14 to be exact. And I blogged all about it.
Then along came Paula Deen and all her yummy, creamy goodness. Our trip to Savannah was so much fun. Dare I say, toooooo much fun! There was that wonderful meal about which I've already told you and then there was candy, more fried food (what trip to the old south would be complete without fried food?) and then the beer and did I mention that thanks to D1, I was stocked with Sweet Tea vodka? Oh and Pualani introduced me to Mojitos. If you haven't had one of those, you really should. Of course, I wouldn't have missed any of it for the world. But my week off the diet wagon has pushed the scales in the wrong direction, dang it and that's just not fair. Why is it that it takes months and years even to lose weight and it all can come undone in one stinkin week! OK, it didn't all come undone but when you're trying to lose weight and instead you find it........ Well, it ain't right.
So today, it was back to the gym. I've been taking a Hip Hop Booty class on Mondays. The instructors are two young, fit personal trainers who apparently spend their evenings out in clubs because these guys can DANCE! I feel strongly that if I have to exercise, I prefer to be entertained during the process. Usually the entertainment is self-provided as I can laugh at myself and that works for me. But these guys are my new source of entertainment. I forgot to bring my camera into the gym and so all I had was my phone and the above picture didn't really capture what I was after but let's say this is the preview to next week's post when I show you what Hip Hop Booty is all about. Stay tuned and as long as I survive the week and don't forget that I promised, I will tell you all about it with pictures and maybe even video if I can figure that out. *sigh* Bear with me, people, I'm learning. And I've come so far.
Pualani, Smitty, MHS and I had a wonderful time in Savannah despite the weather. We were fortunate that it didn't actually rain but misted pretty much all day and was cooler there than it was in Indiana when Snips left there that same day. We started the day with a ride through the historic district in a horse drawn carriage. Our driver, Michael, was a wealth of information and if you ever make it to Savannah, I would highly recommend making the carriage ride part of your itinerary.
I'm not the best photographer in the world but I usually can do a fair job with my trusty point and shoot camera. These pictures are not the greatest but please remember that I'm taking them while riding in a carriage pulled by a horse on a brick road.
And we're off: You can see the Lady and Sons' restaurant on the right at the corner.
This is the Mercer house. It was the scene of the shooting death of Danny Hansford, the assistant of Jim Williams, a private restorationist. The story was retold and made famous by the movie, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil with one of my favorite actors, John Cusack. The house is currently owned by Dorothy Kingery, Williams' sister and is open to the public for tours.
This cemetary (marble orchard) was used during the civil war as a corral for horses and other animals. No care was given to protect the graves or headstones. Many headstones were destroyed by the horses so while the cemetary is full, there are few markers to identify who lies there.
This is Frank.
A stop in the River Street Sweets Candy Store is a must for any sweet tooth. I recommend the pralines and dark chocolate bear claws. Oh, and did I mention the salt water taffy? This place is just another reason why I will be living at the gym for the next 6 months.
I'm sorry to say that this picture is the best thing about the riverboat ride. Unless you just want the experience of having a ride down the river, I would skip this activity. It was really just a ride 30 minutes up the river and back with not much to look at except heaps of scrap metal and warehouses. Of course they do have a concession stand that offers wine, beer and popcorn. So, it ain't all bad.
According to My Harley Stud, no trip to any location is complete without a trip to the Harley store and this vacation was no exception. At least the walk there was scenic. Walking along the riverfront is really quite charming. The water, the architecture, the shopping and candy. What's not to love!
We had a great time in Savannah which by the way I have renamed Santa Vannah in the spirit of Lucy. I have some great pictures of our day on the town including our carriage ride through the historic district that rivaled our dinner at the Lady and Sons for my favorite part of the trip. But those will have to wait until I get home as we are back at the lake now with no wireless connection. And It's just so dang restful here, I can't muster up the energy to go through all the steps it would take to get my pictures from my laptop to Daddy and Daisy's computer.
On the way back from Santa Vannah, we picked up our sister, Snips, from the airport in Jacksonville. This was the second time in Snips life she has been on an airplane and the first time to fly by herself. We were late. We had told her that we might be late because we were booked on a riverboat cruise and weren't sure exactly when we would be able to depart. She doesn't have a cell phone so it was not possible to communicate our estimated time of arrival. Smitty flew like the wind risking our lives getting a speeding ticket and feeling like a Nascar driver. None of us liked the idea of her sitting alone at the airport waiting for us. Once we arrived, we fell all over ourselves apologizing for our tardiness. She was quick to assure us that it was OK and she was fine with it. "No, no, don't worry about it, it's fine." Then she borrowed my cell phone to call her daughter to confirm her safe arrival. And she says, "I'm here. The sons of b*itches were late picking me up but I'm here." Let the games begin!
The three of us along with Pualani and MHS are staying at Daddy and Daisy's through the weekend. It's the first time we've all been together in over three years. Reminiscing is in high gear. It has been non-stop laughing, story-telling and some crying. But mostly we are just having a great time enjoying each others' company. Smitty and Snips are very funny people. I mean funny – haha, not funny strange. Though they are a bit strange too. I like to think of myself as somewhat humorous but these two really put me to shame. I have had tears of laughter in my eyes for two straight days now. And half the time I don't even know what they are talking about. I believe I've discussed here the fact that I'm a little slow to catch on sometimes (because I'm so pure of heart and all).
Anyway, many of our stories have been about our memories of Lucy, our mom. Lucy had a language all her own. Since we were raised by her we are all fluent in Lucyisms. Lucy's special expressions and words were so much a part of our vocabulary that I have, at times, used them without realizing that the general public wouldn't have any idea what I was saying. You need to understand before I go any further that Lucy was well-educated. Lucy was smart. And as I've mentioned before, Lucy was goofy. She loved mis-pronouncing words and making up her own. However, she wouldn't let us finish a sentence until we corrected our grammar. Even at 40 years old.
I mentioned during our walk down memory lane that I was planning a post that would feature Lucy's special language. Smitty, Snips, Daddy and MHS were quick to share their favorites to provide me with more material. It appears now that Smitty has co-starred in a blog post and is even getting messages here, he is no longer worried about my sanity. By the way, Pseudo, Smitty says hi.
So without further ado, here is a list of Lucyisms (phonetically) and an example of the word/term used in a sentence:
And the list goes on. Maybe I will do Lucyisms, Part II another day. Do you have words or expressions that you use in your family that the rest of the world would have a hard time understanding? Or is it just us?
