WHERE THERE’S A WILL, THERE’S A WAY

Our dog, Mayzie, has a doggie bed that stays in front of the fireplace in the family room. At night she sleeps on the floor on my side of the bed. She has her own special comforter that I fold and she unfolds daily. Pixie, the little princess, sleeps on the bed.

My Harley Stud made the mistake of putting the comforter from our bed on the treadmill one night and she found it to be ever so much more comfy than her “crappy old comforter”. (Her words, not mine)

The next morning while sorting laundry, I put our comforter in a laundry basket so that I could wash the dog smell out of it. I had a lot of laundry to do and the comforter didn’t make it into the washing machine that day. When it came time to go to bed, MHS and I went through the lights out, lock doors ritual (and by MHS and I, I really mean him. That’s why I got married.) which is our queue to the dogs that it’s time to retire for the night.

When we got to the bedroom, this is what we found:

A perfect fit, don’t you think?

IS THIS SEXTING?

I sent a little love note text to My Harley Stud today. Short and sweet, I said, “I love you.”

He didn’t respond until many hours later. I was wrapped up in the pile of crap very important work on my desk and had completely forgotten about the message.

He texted back, “Sorry, I didn’t feel the vibration from your text earlier and just noticed your message. I love you too.”

Awwwwwwww. Yeah, we’re cute, huh?

Being the Smart Mouth that I am, I quickly sent my reply: “ I’ll have to jiggle harder next time.”

This time it didn’t take him so long to come back. “Oh YEAH, baby!”

So, is this the SEXTING I keep hearing about in the news? We just might be cool kids now.

ORZO SUMMER SALAD

You might think that I'm jumping the gun as we are barely into Spring and I'm posting a summer salad but here in South Florida, we only have two seasons: A nine month Summer and three months of a season that can only be described as Not Summer. Temperatures here are in the high 80s and tip-toeing into the 90s.

This salad is a family favorite and both of my daughters request it when they are home. Daughter #1 recently called me for the recipe so she could take it to a carry-in luncheon at work. We had a little problem because I never measure anything and do most things by taste. She isn't crazy about cooking and prefers precise direction. She didn't get precise directions but guess what! Her salad was a hit anyway. I knew it would be.

This salad is refreshing in warm weather and perfect for potluck gatherings because there is no mayonnaise and it can sit out without fear of sending party guests home with food poisoning. Remember that my measurements are not exact and in fact, I will substitute ingredients depending upon what's available or on sale at the time.

Please note the cutting board. It is a prized possession made for me by MHS.

Ingredients:

1 lb box orzo (rice shaped pasta)
1 small red pepper chopped (I have substituted quartered grape tomatoes and it was great)
1 cucumber peeled, seeded and chopped
I also like to use an English cucumber. No seeding or peeling required.
1/2 red onion chopped
1 ball of fresh mozzarella cheese cubed
rice wine vinegar to taste (of course you can use the vinegar of your choice but I prefer rice wine for this dish.)
extra virgin olive oil to taste
salt and pepper to taste
8 large leaves of basil rolled and cut into strips (chiffenade)


Cook orzo according to instructions. Be sure not to overcook. You want the pasta to be al dente. Drain and cool.

While water is coming to boil and pasta is cooking, chop the vegetables. You can see by the picture that I try to keep the pieces small to match the orzo. The size doesn't change the flavor but makes the texture of the salad more consistent.

Combine the pasta and the vegetables. Add the cubed mozzarella cheese and the basil. Add the basil last as it bruises easily. You can combine the oil, vinegar, salt and pepper together in a bowl to get the flavor you want before adding or wing it like I do and just add each ingredient directly to the salad. I've never screwed it up so badly that we didn't eat it. :-)

Try it. I think you'll like it.

And as my grandmother used to say, "If you like it, tell others. If not, tell me!"

LOVELY AND CUTE, MOI? AWW SHUCKS, MA’AM.

It's award season in the Bloggy World and I've been given not one but two awards!

And here I am with my little black dress at the cleaners and my pearls in the shop to be restrung. What’s a girl to do?

*Beep*Beep*Beep*

This award ceremony is being interrupted for an announcement from the Emergency Broadcast System.

It came in the mail. The big announcement. My 30th class reunion. ACK! How did this happen? I’m certain that I’m not even 30 years old yet. And now they’re telling me I’ve been out of high school for THIRTY years! How can that be! I was never very good at math. *sigh*

I’m freaking! Remember a few weeks ago when I said that Valerie Bertinelli was my inspiration and that I wanted to be the best SMB I could be by my next birthday in December. Well, now I have to up my game and get my act together by the end of August! I have to admit, I’ve been lolly-gagging. I’ve struggled with getting started. I’ve been good about getting to the gym but my food choices have not been good choices. And I’m pretty sure that Jimmy Johns is on a mission to sabotage my efforts but that’s a post for another day.

Once again I’m turning to you, the experts. I have 4 months to lose the extra pounds. Any suggestions? I guess I know what I have to do but for some reason, I haven’t done it. What’s the secret to sticking with the program? I can’t do it. It’s my short attention span. I forget that I’m committed to a plan. I’m easily distracted by chocolate chip cookies evil temptations and I cave to poor choices.

If you love me (you do love me, right?) or even if you just like me a little, have pity on this poor soul and send me your secrets. I’m on a mission now and have a good feeling that this event just might be the motivation to make it happen.

***And a little shout-out to Beauty and The Saint. Are ya wit me? Let’s make a grand entrance………….late of course.***

We now join the regularly scheduled program already in progress:

It is award season in the blogosphere. I am happy to announce that I’ve had two prestigious and quite flattering awards bestowed up on me this week. First, Jane of Gaston Studio, has presented me with the Bella award. She thinks my blog is lovely. I think she’s lovely. And speaking of lovely, Gaston Studio has some lovely things ON SALE for Mother’s Day over at her other site so go there and check it out. (Every self-respecting awards program comes complete with commercials, that was mine. -Jane, I’ll take my kickback in the form of a certified check………….or cookies, thank you very much.)

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you……………………………..Bella

The rules for the Bella award are:

1. Link the blog that gave you the award. Thanks, Jane. You’re the best!

2. Pass on the award to 15 bloggers who are new to you. I love this idea because it’s a great way to highlight new (to you) bloggers.

There are some really good blogs that I’ve recently started following. Check them out.They're lovely.

A la Recherche du Thyme Perdu (Besides loving her blog, I also love the name. It translates to Searching for lost thyme (time) Love it.

Beth Niquette Fine Art

Blueberry Plains

Crap on a Crutch

Delaney’s World

Dog Girl

Inside the Shell

Listen 2 Auntie

Midlife Job Hunter

Midlife, Menopause, Mistakes and Random Stuff

Mind Motion (I’m sure you’re secure enough in your masculinity to accept this pretty pink award, right? )

My Quality Time (Same goes for you, Joe)

Perfectly Unperfect MeMe

Wsprsweetly of Cottages

YewNorkBabe Title!!!

Y’all feel free to take a brief intermission to get some popcorn and champagne on the house, of course. Then get comfy because there’s more. :-)

The young and beautiful Cheap Chick (I hate her) has bestowed upon me an honor that I will cherish with my Bella award:

Cute, huh?

This is an easy one. The rules include linking back to the giver – that’s a given.

But you also have to list ten un-cute things about yourself and then pass along the award to all or at least some of the cuties you know.

With no further ado, here we go:

1. I’m a smart arse. (You’d have never guessed, huh?)
2. Control freak! Yep, that’s me.
3. I can’t shut up. (yet another obvious fact)
4. I have a somewhat new wrinkle in my forehead that makes me look like a confused Boxer. Definitely NOT cute.
5. I make up the rules as I go along.
6. I have a very strange sense of humor and crack myself up…….but no one else.
7. I don’t like sexy underwear. They’re uncomfortable.
8. I am completely neurotic about making a bed properly. You do know that the pretty sides of the sheets face each other, right? Spread the word. And another thing: Hospital corners, people. Just do it and nobody gets hurt.
9. I secretly LOVE bologna sandwiches. (Shhhh, that’s just between you and me.)
10. I whistle (the kind with two fingers in my mouth) to call my dogs, kids and husband. I will also use this method to gain attention in a crowded room and will sometimes use it to show my appreciation of a job well-done. It’s a talent I’ve honed to perfection much to the dismay of my family. You can take the girl out of the country…………

Believe me when I say the list of un-cute things about me is endless. I’ve only scratched the surface here. But the rules are 1o and I am nothing if not a rule-follower unless I don’t like them and then I make up my own.

I know a LOT of cute blogs and bloggers but today I’m going to highlight just one.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you……………….just the cutest little blogger ever.

Nothing Fancy

Be gentle with her. She’s a bit shy and currently recovering from surgery. She is sweet, sweet, sweet unless you make her mad. You’re gonna love her. I do.

I’m a bit overwhelmed to have my blog considered cute and lovely in the same week. I’m flattered and hope that I live up to those descriptions. Now if I could be as cute and lovely as my blog, I’d have nothing to worry about at the reunion, right?

MY FRIEND AL SAYS:

I just can’t resist a guy in uniform that needs a shave and carries a gun.

I was reading the paper the other day and came upon an article about a domestic dispute. If you ever want to get me fired up, bring up the subject of domestic abuse. I can’t imagine that it doesn’t make everyone angry but I have no mercy for people who commit child abuse or wife beating. (And this is where I might lose you.) I agree with Al Pacino in Righteous Kill, “There’s nothing wrong with a little shooting as long as the right people get shot.” Hello, anybody still there?

It seems the S.W.A.T. team was called to the scene. The woman and child escaped from the house. The S.W.A.T. team continued to negotiate with the man because he was threatening to harm himself. My response: “So?”

That’s where the S.W.A.T. team and I part ways. They negotiated to keep him from harming himself. I would have offered additional ammo in case he was a really bad shot. Just sayin.

BUT I’M AFRAID OF ZOMBIES

My buddy, Midlife Job Hunter has bestowed upon me an award that at first I wasn’t sure I wanted to accept. Should I beam with pride or run for the hills?

Zombies! I’m afraid of zombies! I was never one of those kids that liked scary movies. Oh sure, I went to the theatre because it was the cool thing to do but I sat with my eyes closed through the entire movie.

At 18 I went to see Amityville Horror. By today’s standards, fairly lame on the scare-o-meter. I stayed awake all night reading the bible. I was terrified to close my eyes. To this day, (and MHS will back me up on this) I have to watch something funny like an I Love Lucy rerun to take my mind off a disturbing program before I can sleep.

All that being said, just look at those zombie chickens! They don’t look so scary, now do they? They’re actually kinda cute. I haven’t known Midlife Job Hunter for that long but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be cursing me with poultry voodoo. But one never really knows, now do they?

I’m going to assume that this Zombie Chicken Award is a good thing because I’m a cockeyed optimist and totally pure of heart and all and accept this award in the spirit with which it was given. Thanks, Midlife Job Hunter! All kidding aside, I was stunned when I read the description of this award that you would think of me. I started this blog almost a year ago and totally thought the only readers I would ever have would be my long-lost imaginary playmates who moved to California when I was four. (Yes, I really had imaginary friends. Don’t judge.) Coming from a gifted writer such as yourself, I will cherish this award forever (or until I clean house again next January) and find a special place for it on my sidebar.

Please read the description of the Zombie Chicken Award below: (And try not to shake your head in bewilderment saying, “She picked SMB for this?”)

The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken - excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all...

And now to pass it on to bloggers much more deserving than myself. I thought long and hard about this and it’s practically impossible to narrow this down to five recipients. But somehow I did it.

The following bloggers have made me laugh, cry, spit coffee all over my keyboard and have warmed the cockles of my heart on more than several occasions. Please join me in congratulating:

Janie at Midlife Slices

Jan at Jan’s Sushi Bar (She’s gonna LOVE this)

Pseudo at Pseudonymous High School Teacher

Jane at Gaston Studio

Tessa of Nuts and Mutton (She’s gonna Hate this)

Linda at Crone and Bear It

Congrats, bloggers!

Shhhhh! I'm hoping that the zombies won't notice that I can't count.

Thanks again to Midlife Job Hunter! I am truly honored.

SHINY NEW GYM=SHINY NEW ME?

I recently switched gyms to accommodate my ever-increasing need to shake my booty. The gym that I joined is a national chain and my membership allows me to visit any location in the US. Keep that in mind when MHS and I show up on our Harley at your doorstep begging for a place to stay. I need to stay fit on my roadtrips, ya know. Last week the chain opened a new location just for me. ……I knooowww! That’s what I thought. It’s right on my way to or from work. I have no excuses now. Geesh.

Today I tried out the new location. First, it smells good. That’s very important to me. I’m a smelly broad. I like things to smell good and at the gym, that’s not always a given. It was clean and all the equipment was shiny.

I met a new friend in the locker room. She told me all about how she comes to the gym for cardio but goes to a fancy (read EXPENSIVE) pilates spa in one of those botanical garden malls that are so popular in this area. Each class is $20. She goes 3 times a week. She was talking it up like a sales rep. (She wasn’t a sales rep) She told me all about how the core exercises have changed her life and promised they could do the same for me. Apparently she didn’t see the hole in my t-shirt. Spending $60 a week on pilates isn’t going to happen until I get my government bailout package. What? Isn’t that what the bank execs did? They went to a spa.

I missed the beginning of the mat pilates class because I was making new friends in the locker room so I went straight to my old friend, the elliptical. I jumped on, queued my ipod to my gym playlist and I was like an exercise animal. Believe that? Nah, I didn’t think so.

So I’m chugging along and all of a sudden I hear talking in the background of my music. A rhythmic sing-song of words that didn’t seem to go with the song and I’m thinking, “I don’t remember this part.” Then the next song had that same background voice talking. I look over to my right and there is a woman with headphones in her hears chatting away. I think, “This crazy woman is talking to her ipod.” And suddenly it occurs to me that her ipod is actually an iphone and she is giving a lecture having a conversation with some poor schmuck a friend. And she goes on and on and on and on.

Because I’m a grown-up I know how to handle these situations. I turned up my volume and began to jam to my favorite tunes on my own ipod-nonphone.

When it got to the part, “Everybody look left, everybody look right”, I did. And she was gone. I might have been singing. If you ever want to clear a room, call me.

And now peeps, it’s time for Jack. And nothing comes between me and my black ops hero.

POOF! and just like that……………SHE’s GONE

I use Google Reader to read blogs. I’ve been pretty busy lately and am way behind in my blog reading. Yesterday, I tried to catch up on a few. One of my bloggy friends had eight unread posts in my reader. I always go directly to the site from the reader for those of you who are interested in your numbers. I clicked to be directed to this friend’s site and Blogger informed me the site didn’t exist. I tried it again. There was a trouble-shooting suggestion telling me to check my address for accuracy. I’ve used my reader to go there several times so I knew that wasn’t the problem. I tried a few more times with no luck.

I emailed my bloggy friend and asked if everything was OK because that’s the kind of nosy broad I am I was concerned that she may not even be aware of the problem.

This morning, I received an email telling me she’s done. It’s something she has been thinking about for a long time and she decided to just quit. She’s deleted her blog and she’s happy about it. She assured me that she is fine. But now as far as blogging goes she’s GONE. Done. No more.

Now I’m wondering. Have these thoughts gone through your mind too? Will I click to be directed to your site next and find that you’re gone? I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve got a lot on my mind: The economy, world peace, is orange REALLY the new pink? And now THIS!

If you’re leaving, I’m gonna need a heads up. Just sayin.

PURDY PLEASE

I have a favor to ask.

For the past nine months I have provided you with endless drivel, mindless nonsense and random boring facts. Have I ever asked anything in return for providing this service?

What? Oh well, there was "that" time. Oh and yes, you're right, "that other time". Well, I haven't asked much considering how much completely unnecessary crap I've provided. Well, peeps, it's time to pay up. That's right. Time to pay the pooper....uh ....er....piper.

Our friends, The Saint and the Biker Nazi, have a son at Purdue University studying Aviation Technology. He posted a video on YouTube for extra credit. It seems that the more hits the video gets, the more extra credit he will receive. So purdy please with sprinkles on top, would you click to watch the video and give the kid some credit. He's a goooood boy. Really.




It's not very long and it contains clips from Top Gun. Remember Goose and Maverick. Those were the days.


Did ya do it? Did ya, did ya?

Thanks, you're the BEST!

Hugs,
SMB

BEHIND THE 8 BALL

I was tagged by Jane of Gaston Studio for a game of 8 tag. I just love Jane and her stories and this game sounded like a lot of fun. So here we go:

8 things I'm looking forward to: (in no particular order)

1. Nelson DeMille's new book. I copied this from Jane. I didn’t even know that Nelson DeMille had a new book coming out but he’s my favorite so I copied and I’m proud of it. Sorry, Jane.
2. My kitchen completed.
3. Getting the floors finished. I copied this one from Jane too but deleted two letters. :-)
4. An economic recovery.
5. Losing 40 lbs.
6. Getting a wii. Somehow, some way…..
7. Retirement (At this rate, it will never happen)
8. World peace :-)

8 things I did yesterday:

1. Blogged.
2. Worked.
3. Ate too much.
4. Went to the post office on April 15th. Definitely not the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
5. Twittered. Tweeted. Twibbled.
6. Loved on my animals.
7. Caught up a bit on the shows recorded on our tivo.
8. Prayed.

8 things I wish I could do:

1. Travel abroad. Or with some broads.
2. Win the lottery. Oops, there I go copying Jane again.
3. Become completely debt-free.
4. Sing like Jennifer Nettles. (In my head, I already do)
5. Get a degree in American History.
6. Speak Spanish, French, German and Dutch. (Jane’s idea again)
7. Wake up tomorrow a size 6 and fit as a fiddle.
8. Play the piano beautifully. (instead of the way I play now - eek)

8 shows I watch:

1. 24
2. Dancing with the Stars
3. Friday Night Lights
4. Leverage
5. The Mentalist
6. Samantha Who?
7. NCIS
8. Life on Mars

8 people I tag:

1. Midlife Slices
2. Jan’s Sushi Bar
3. My Life Interrupted
4. Crone and Bear It
5. Only a Movie
6. Wsprsweetly of Cottages
7. City Girl Moves to Oz
8. And anyone else who wants to play

If you didn’t already think so before, now you know just how really boring I truly am.

Post your own answers to the questions in each category, including 8 people you want to tag. Have fun!

PEACE AND QUIET

A plaque welcomes you as you step thru the door of my father’s home. A friend of my mother’s gave it to her and it’s perfect.

WELCOME TO OUR LAKE HOME

If you come cheerily, here shall be fun for you.

If you come wearily, here shall be rest for you.

If you come sorrowing, love will be shown to you.

At our lake home, dear friend

Peace will abide for you

And the door will swing wide.

It has always been all those things for us. And all that enter. That’s the kind of home my parents have always had. Everyone is welcome. They have the kind of home that beckons to family and friends to “come a callin.” You never know who will drop in. It’s wonderful. They didn’t always live on the lake but now it’s even more inviting.

Come along with me. I’ll show you around.

This is the pond on the side of the property. There’s a few gators in there. You can’t see ‘em but they’re there.

Another view of the pond. Don’t you just love the Spanish moss?

As I walked out to the lake behind the house, I saw this bird drying his wings on the dock.

Oh, and there's lots more gators out there in the lake.

If you lived here and had to pick up the moss, you’d probably hate it when the wind blows but I think it’s beautiful. Of course, I don’t live here.

The lake is really low. It’s just crazy that the area where Beth lives, only a few hours away, was flooding just a short time ago. It’s so dry here. These cypress knees are usually under water when the lake it up where it’s supposed to be.

We used to be able to walk off this dock onto the boat. Now Daddy can’t even keep the boat here.

Baseball fans might be interested to know that Wade Boggs owns the home just a few doors down from here.

Pixie, don’t jump!

Can you see a break in the trees straight across the lake? The break is the entrance to Cross Creek. Literary fans might recognize the name. Cross Creek was the home of the Margorie Kinnan Rawlings, the author of The Yearling and her autobiographical work of the same name, Cross Creek.

I hope that you enjoyed the tour. Please leave your fifty cents in the basket by the door on your way out. Y’all come back now, ya hear?

THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

We spent Easter weekend at my dad's house. Daughters #1 and #2 met us there and we spent a relaxing couple of days together enjoying each other's company.

This is one of the wood duck houses Daddy and his friends built for the ducks to nest in. Daddy says wood ducks are the most beautiful bird in his opinion.

A home any duck would be proud of, I’m sure. I think this one is a townhome. Daddy was telling D1 and I that sometimes more than one duck will lay eggs in the nest and then the mama ducks take turns sitting. One flies out and another flies in. Shift work.

He checked this house only to find a single dead baby duckling.

I know. That’s how D1 and I felt. Daddy brought it up to the dock where we were standing to show it to us. We didn’t really care to see it.

He holds it out for us to see. Then he says, “What a shame.” And chucks it into the lake.

D1 and I gasped and looked at each other and then at the duck floating in the water.

I asked Daddy, “If you find me dead in my house one day, are you going to throw me in the lake?”

I can see it now. “What a shame. She was such a good girl, too.“ Kerplunk!

He said, “Nah.”, very seriously. He didn’t see any humor in my sarcasm. He then explained, “It’s the most respectable thing to do.” looking out at the floating duck.

D1 and I were mortified and heartbroken. My father looks at this as a matter of fact. It happens all the time in nature. The circle of life.

I guess.

But if I should go before my father. Keep an eye on him. Just sayin.

ALMOST ANOTHER MIDLIFE CRISIS

We were away for the weekend and arrived home late last night. I don’t know what it is about squeezing every last second out of a mini-vacation but we always do it and we always feel like poop on a stick the next day.

Anyway, it was late, I was tired and all I wanted was to go to bed. I quickly breezed thru my night-time routine. The last step is to take my birth-control pill.

There are some lurkers here that should probably have stepped away from the screen before that last paragraph. Daddy, Uncle M, my daughters, and my niece. Yeah, you. For the record, I don’t have sex, I simply take those little pills because I need the 5 extra pounds, they help me remember what day it is, it helps to relieve my Oh screw it, yes, I have sex, dammit! (Not really, Daddy)

Anyway, something happened when I pushed that little round pill thru the foil pack that has never happened to me before. The pill crumbled into my hand. EEK! I stared at it in shock. I tried not to panic. This would require some clear thinking. This little tiny pill is all that remains between me and a little tiny mini-me.

I love my children more than life itself. Don’t get me wrong. But the LAST thing I want at forty *cough* eight years old is a baby. Those mid-life crisis babies are a b*tch! I know because I am one.

I really don’t have anything to worry about because I am 100 percent certain that if I told MHS we were expecting again, he would kill me in my sleep. He has just the gun to do it too. Now of course, he might be more sneaky about it and poison or drown me. Mark my words, if I suddenly become DEAD, perform a pregnancy test.

I don’t mean to imply that MHS doesn’t love our children either but after 24 years of child rearing, he’s looking forward to some undivided attention. He’s not getting it since I’ve discovered blogging but he is still holding out hope that I’ll lose interest in this whole blogging thing and come back to him. Silly man.

So, I’m staring at the pile of pill crumbs in my palm and wondering what is the best way to make certain that I get all the crumbs ingested. I don’t want to leave any margin for error. So I licked my hand. Yes.I.Did! And then just to be sure, I licked the inside of the plastic container too. You can’t take any chances.

THE STORY OF US (Part II) - Arrested Development

My dear friend, Linda, from Crone and Bear it tagged me to do a Love your spouse story. I’m embarrassed to say that it was probably about a month ago. It’s not that I didn’t want to do it, I just wanted to be sure that I took the time to give it the proper attention. After twenty-eight years of marriage, if you decide to tell your story, it should be something special, right? Of course this caused me all sorts of anxiety as I crumbled under the pressure and did what I always do in this situation: I procrastinated.

Finally I decided that enough is enough and opted to just continue the story already in progress. I met My Harley Stud when I was ten years old. It’s a long story. I couldn’t possibly tell it in one post. If I tell the WHOLE story, I couldn’t even do it in 10 posts but I will spare you the details and try to just hit the high points. We’ll see how many editions it takes. Come along with me as I tell how we first fell in “love”.

In Part I, I told you about how I first saw him and developed a crush. And how I fought for the right to be assigned the safety patrol station that he had to pass every day just so I could look at him. Fast forward a few more years. I was in the seventh grade and he was an eighth grader. I have to be honest here and admit that I don’t really remember how it happened. I just remember that all of a sudden, he was walking me home from school. And yes, he did sometimes carry my books. I still have my diary from those days and a smarter girl would have reviewed before writing but I’m a smart mouth, nobody said I was smart.

Summer arrived and we said goodbye to books and hello to shorts and bare feet. Well, my feet were bare. MHS always wears shoes. The park was the place to be every evening in the summer time. There were little league baseball games and it seemed that every kid in town would be there. We seldom watched a game but instead would gather in crowds near the swings and just talk or try to hang with the older kids who had cars and would scoop the loop as my mother used to say.

Our home town is a small town with about three thousand people. It sits in the middle of some prime farmland and many of our friends and schoolmates were farm kids. One of my good friends lived on a farm outside town. She came to stay with me for a few days. We had big plans to hang with MHS and his friend who conveniently was my girlfriend’s beau.

I had a neighborhood friend who was a few years older than us and she invited us to her house for a sleep-out. A sleep-out is a sleep-over but outdoors, under the stars. It was a great way to sneak out to explore the town and get into mischief enjoy the great out-doors. Farmgirl and I were excited to hang with the older girls. It didn’t take long to realize that once we were in sleeping bags, the older girls had invited boys over to join them. It was more than a little awkward for Farmgirl and me.

Fortunately for us, we had mentioned to MHS and his friend what we were doing. We didn’t invite them to join us. But being the horny hopefuls knights in shining armor that they were, they came to rescue us from a very uncomfortable situation.

We were a little young to be gettin busy in a sleeping bag so we settled for sitting and talking in one of the older boys cars that was parked in the doctor’s office driveway down the ally. MHS and I fought a lot back then. (I guess this was a good thing because we rarely fight now. We got it out of our system early.) I have no recollection of what triggered our little spat that night but we began to argue. I got mad and got out of the car and stomped back to my sleeping bag. MHS was way too proud to come crawling after me but this left our friends to entertain MHS instead of staring into each other’s eyes and squelched any possibility of getting in some quality smooching.

MHS’s friend took the bull by the horns and came down to where I was snuggled into my sleeping bag trying hard to put a curse on MHS with my underdeveloped superpowers go to sleep. He pulled me out of the sleeping bag, picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and carried me back to the car. It was no easy task as I was kicking, punching and screaming all the way. He pretty much threw me into the backseat of the car where MHS was pouting waiting.

The goo-goo eyes resumed in the front seat while MHS and I sat giving each other the stink eye with our arms crossed, each leaning as far as possible into the armrest of their respective side of the car. This continued for about ten minutes when a police car came around the corner. There was a curfew in our town and children our age were not allowed to be out after 11 o’clock without an adult. So we did what any wrong-doing teen would do and we laid down across the seat to hide from the police. It was all in vain though because they already knew we were there. Some busy-body neighbor had called the police after hearing some poor, young girl screaming “bloody murder” down the ally.

Book ‘em Dano. We were hauled to the police department. This carried with it the added embarrassment of facing my aunt who worked dispatch. Our parents were called to collect us and we were released into their care with the promise that we would be tarred and feathered appropriately at home.

I was grounded…….for life.

Farmgirl was never allowed to spend the night at my house again. Her parents were convinced I was a bad influence.

MHS’s friend was a spoiled brat and I’m sure he didn’t get in trouble at all.

I think that MHS’s parents (now my in-laws) thought it was funny.

Ahhhh, the difference between raising boys and girls. Fair? I think not.

A few weeks later, MHS went to stay with his cousin in a different town for a few weeks. My father always says, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder………….or you just find someone else.” And I did. I can’t help it. I have a short attention span.

Stay tuned for Part III of the Story of Us coming soon or not so much to a blog near you.

HAPPY EASTER

Hugs,

SMB

FASHION POLICE BUST LOW RIDERS

I came across an article in the local paper yesterday. A much publicized case went before the judge. A city in Palm Beach County has passed a law banning the wearing of pants so low that your skin or undergarments show. Now the law is being challenged.

The case has been all over the television news but the article in the paper caught my eye because I recognized the judge. She’s a friend of my friend, The Trophy Wife. We used to go to the same gym before I changed teams in favor of more latin booty classes. She’s in really great shape too but I digress.

I immediately felt badly for her. Not because she has such a difficult task in front of her but because she has to tolerate this drivel and pretend to take it seriously.

I am no fan of this particular fashion trend. Though I am slightly amused every time I see a young man running awkwardly across the street with one hand on his breeches to keep them from falling to the pavement. But I don’t like it. I think it looks stupid. It can’t possibly be comfortable. I can’t for the life of me see the appeal. However, I also think that spending tax dollars to pass a law against such nonsense is just as absurd.

I’ve linked the article so I’m not going to rewrite it here. If you haven’t already, go there now. I’ll wait.

*patiently drumming long, beautifully manicured nails on the table* (That’s the beauty of a blog, you know. You can lie about how awful your hands look and no one is the wiser) Uh…er… well…until now. Damn.

I will assume you are all now well-informed.

Here’s the thing: Don’t you think that if we didn’t make such a fuss, this ugly trend would just die out like the mullet? Imagine the man hours that went into passing this law. (Notice I said, man hours? I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a woman there THAT day. Sorry, fellers, we women folk are just more practical than that.) Seriously, do we really not have better things to do? We’ve got child abusers, drug dealers, drunken boaters running over manatees and the homeless on every other corner. Heck, just last week, I heard the guy down the street tore the tags off his mattress. Come on, people! We’ve got a bigger job to do. Let’s keep our eye on the ball.

Each time I hear about this case in the media, I’m reminded of when Daughter #1 was in middle school. She was working as an aide in the office. It was a dress code violation to wear backless shoes. She was reaching up into a filing cabinet and her backless clogs were exposed just as one of the deans walked by. He reprimanded her. She came back with, “Doesn’t someone have drugs in their locker?” As you can see, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Smart mouths run in the family it would seem. (Now she is a middle school teacher and gets to deal with kids just like her on a daily basis. Life is funny like that.)

Can we agree that having fashion police running around arresting young people for bad taste is a waste of time and money? Do you have a local law that is just as ridiculous? Or maybe you disagree and think this is a good law. I can respect that even if you’re wrong and agree to disagree. Let’s hear it. Come on…..

EDUCATING SMB

A little over a week ago, I announced that I had been selected to sit on the jury of a criminal trial. Due to an emergency illness with Daughter #2, I was excused after one day of testimony.
We, the jury, were told by the judge that the case would take two days. I was in attendance for the opening statements by both the prosecution and the defense. The United States presented their case and rested at the end of the day. I was not there to hear the defense. I have been watching the local paper to see if the case is mentioned and thus far…..nothing.
I couldn’t possibly have formed an opinion about whether the defendant was guilty or innocent having only heard half the story. I am left with many questions but they are not about guilt or innocence.
It was a drug case. The defendant was accused of selling crack cocaine and marijuana within 1000 feet of an elementary school and attempted assault on a police officer. Evidence was produced. I saw crack cocaine for the first time in my life. I also saw marijuana……..again. Hey, I was a teenager during the 70s. You would have had to have lived under a rock to have never seen marijuana during those times.
I learned that drugs are commonly concealed in those little plastic tubes that super glue comes in. Now every time I see super glue, I’m going to wonder…….Drug dealer? Drug user? Broken dishes?
The marijuana evidence was presented in little ziploc bags measuring about a square inch. Once filled with this grassy substance, the bag was about the size of the end of my thumb. I had to wonder if this amount would even be enough to fill one joint doobie marijuana cigarette. I’ve always seen heard that the stuff comes in sandwich baggies typically filled one third to one half full. And I thought they were putting less in my cereal box.
This got me thinking. Where do you get little, tiny ziploc bags like that? I’ve never seen bags that size in my local grocery. Who supplies the suppliers? This drug business is a whole industry in itself. Who knew? Certainly not me.
The crack cocaine was presented to us in even tinier ziploc bags. Where do you get these things? And by the way, the bags are yellow. I got the impression from testimony that nine out of ten leading drug dealers prefer yellow bags over any other color.
I was also surprised to find that these drug deals can go down (I kinda sound like DeNiro there, huh?) for less than $10. My chocolate addiction is more expensive than that. I was always under the impression that illegal drug use was completely unaffordable. Obviously I was misled by the propaganda distributed by my parents and teachers. I’m not advocating that we all take up new drug addictions. I’m just simply stating that I was misinformed.
So, assuming that you are not an illegal drug dealer or a drug user, I have to ask: Have you ever seen these ziploc bags for sale? Have you seen them used for something other than crack or marijuana? What are the other uses for this type of baggie? Do the suppliers know the intended use of their product? These are questions I would like to have answered.
Can you help a smart mouth broad? This inquiring mind needs to know.

I’M A RAMBLER

My mind is all over the place today. I’ve got randomness filling all the empty space in my brain and believe me, there’s a LOT of empty space in my brain.

I’m a little sad today. It’s the opening day of major league baseball and I didn’t make it to even one Spring training game. And I live sooooo close to the stadium where two teams train. I love going to baseball games. I’m not a big fan of baseball on television but being at the game is so cool. There is so much to entertain you at the game. My mother, Lucy, was the biggest Cubs fan ever. She was a card carrying member of the Cubs fan club since the 1930s. True story.

And let us not forget…….hotdogs. I only eat hotdogs outdoors. I never make them at home but I love hotdogs at ballgames, picnics, on the street, and at my beloved A&W or BK root beer stands in Indiana.

I went to the gym today. It was a must after completely blowing my diet all weekend long. How am I ever going to accomplish my goal by December if I lose every last ounce of my willpower in the first blasted week! Of course, I’m blaming the Biker Nazi.

I was able to get out of the office in time for the Latin Impact class but after not being able to walk around upright without the help of muscle relaxers yesterday, I thought it best to skip the dance class. I hit the elliptical instead. A woman who isn’t as desperate to make her goal by December didn’t have pub style fish and chips over the weekend is smarter might have avoided the risk of injury all together and took a knee.

I saw a woman in full make-up and costume jewelry while I was working out. I live in Palm Beach county and women in full make-up at the gym is really no surprise but costume jewelry? Seriously? If she gets a little crazy on the treadmill, she might beat herself to death.

I was antsy on the elliptical and having a hard time finding music on my ipod to suit me. My taste in music is eclectic for sure. I finally hit my stride when I found this:

I’m pretty sure that no one would have looked at me exercising and guessed that this was what was playing on my ipod. And don’t think for a minute that I didn’t want to dance around the gym saying Woo, woo! Because I really, really did.

And last but certainly not least, I’ve been honored with some very prestigious awards. First, Linda, of Crone and Bear It awarded me the Friendship award:

Thanks, Linda! The friends I have met since starting this blog have been a warm and wonderful surprise. I came here looking to express myself and found the added benefit of charming, witty, genuine friends. This award comes with only one instruction and that is to pass it on to three other bloggy friends. I’m choosing some new friends that are just as great as the old ones.

Debra of Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History-Debra is a fellow biker chick only she has her own bike!

Michel of Facts are Strictly Optional-Michel blogs about her life in Sudan where she lives while working at the US Embassy there.

Jane at Gaston Studio-Jane tells some great tales about her life today and cherished memories of yesterday.

Second, Oz Girl of City Girl Moves to Oz bestowed upon me the Lemonade out of Lemons award. Thanks Oz Girl!

I’m a true believer that when life hands you lemons, you should make lemonade. I hope you will forgive me, OG but I received this award once before recently so I’m going to be lame once again and skip the instructions about passing it on. Instead, I’m going to reach out into the blogosphere and ask, “Have you made lemonade out of lemons lately? If so, grab this award and run with it. You deserve it!

Thanks to Linda and OZ Girl for thinking of me for these very prestigious awards. You’re the best!

I hope you enjoyed the randomness that is me :)

Go Cubbies!

SMB

LIVE TO RIDE AND RIDE TO EAT

When the Biker Nazi is in town, there is no question about what we’ll be doing. Ride, ride, ride. We spent all day Saturday on the bikes and covered a good many miles and explored city and country near our home. We started the day with a ride out to Indiantown and enjoyed brunch at the Seminole Inn. The inn opened in 1926. Entering the inn gives you the feeling that you are stepping into a gentler time in history. I would have loved to have spent more time snooping around with my camera but we were just there to eat and run. One day I’ll insist on going back. That shouldn’t be too difficult as it is not far from our home and My Harley Stud enjoyed it too.

The Biker Nazi never met a stranger and managed to make new friends who can take him hunting on his next visit to sunny Florida.

I like this idea: Sit long, talk much. Right up my ally.

Cracker, the parrot, welcomes you as soon as you step over the threshold.

The Biker Nazi loved the new paint job on his bike.

I just love it when the trees form a canopy under which for us to pass.

You don’t have to drive too far out of town to see orange groves. I’m not sure why these haven’t been picked yet. It’s kind of late in the season, I think.

By the time we made it to the Keylime Grill, our bellies were grumbling for more than beer. My diet was blown out of the water with Pub style fish and chips. Yum to malt vinegar. Did someone take my willpower? How am I going to make my goal with temptations like this?

The yum factor was short-lived though. I haven’t eaten fried food like that in a long time and my tummy rebelled. Tums were my dessert of choice last night. Grrrr. I should have had a salad.

There was a young man playing to the crowd and he was really good. I asked if he had a CD but alas, he has none. He did give me his website info and you can listen to him here. :) He covered many of my favorites and played some of his original work too. He is quite an accomplished musician, in my humble opinion, of course.

From the Keylime Grill, we headed back North along the beach. We drove along Palm Beach and rubbed elbows with the rich and famous. There were no celebrity sightings but I’m really bad about that anyway. One could be standing right next to me and I wouldn’t notice.

The above photo was taken driving along Ocean Blvd. You can see the Atlantic on the right and the homes of Donald Trump, Rod Stewart, the old Kennedy compound are all on the left. MHS wasn’t driving slowly enough to get any pictures of the homes without blurring. Another time, maybe. He’s a great tour guide and knows who lives where because of his business contacts. The roofs to the right along the beach are the beach houses of the residents across the street. Most have tunnels that go underneath the road to get to the beach.

These are the snooty sea-gulls. These snobs probably don’t fly past the edge of the island. Palm Beachers like to stick to themselves.

As you drive along Ocean Blvd, you will see main entrances and service entrances. Funny, it’s all the same at my house.

This was taken during a butt break. This particular section of the beach is where Worth Avenue intersects with Ocean Blvd. Worth Avenue is Palm Beach’s equivalent of Rodeo Drive. (The best place for celeb sightings-but be careful. The PB cops have no problem throwing anyone who doesn’t “belong” off the island.)

Who is this riff-raff? Palm Beach bikers, of course.

You can see the tower to the famous Breakers hotel looming over the home at the end of the street. I wanted to get a picture of the long, beautiful entrance to the Breakers but new renovations include a guardhouse that obstructs the view. Apparently there were too many smart mouth broads snooping around with their cameras and someone complained.

The home at the end of the street once belonged to Clark Gable. I believe it is owned by the heir to the Estee Lauder fortune now.

This is a moving picture of the Biltmore hotel on Palm Beach.

The Palm Beach Yacht Club. Never been there. Smart Mouth Broads need not apply. Go figure.

Not a great photograph, but I kept the best of the blurry ones I captured. I learned to scuba dive under this very bridge. Exciting, huh?

Last but not least: My Harley Stud knows how much I love the inlet. Our ride concluded here. (Well actually, we still had to drive home)

Jupiter Inlet is my favorite place in the world. It soothes my weary soul.

Here you will see my reward for the hunt. I love to walk along the jetty to look for crabs on the rocks. Found one. He was shy and wouldn’t smile for the camera though.

The sun was setting and we had to skidaddle. The park closes at sunset. You can see the lighthouse on the right. I love it here. *sigh*