Monday, July 13, 2009

Nan-Nan's my name!!!! Here is WHY!!!!!

CHECK HER OUT EVERYBODY!!!!! Isn't she beautiful?!?!!? This is Piper Ann, my first grandbaby from my wonderful son Jacob and my precious daughter-in-love Christy. Piper weighed in at 8 lbs even and was 21 and 3/4 inches long. Took her sweet time getting here, 26 hours and 40 minutes of NATURAL CHILDBIRTH. That's right! N-A-T-U-R-A-L childbirth. Piper's mommy could easily be a Navy Seal, Green Beret, Delta Force AND Rambo all rolled into one, because she is a WARRIOR!!! She is a gorgeous soft-spoken little blonde, but she is tough and has more strength than ANYONE I have ever known. She continually inspires me to be a better person and she is such a wonderful mother already. Jacob does not have to look very far to see just how much God loves him. And you know what? Neither do I. Now how 'bout that?!

Thursday, July 9, 2009

OOPS!!!! Hear Ye, Hear Ye!!!

Disclaimer!!! Disclaimer!!! To All Ye Who Read The Postings Herein!!!

A thousand pardons!!!! I am so sorry.................................

Ok, so I just was talkin' to Heather Cherry as we often do throughout the workday here in OKC. And I was remarking on her last post today. As we were talking, I was writing a comment on her blog and our conversation went something like this....

Me: I am SO glad you don't have one of those STOOOOOPID word verification thingies on your blog. Lord, those irritate me!

Heather: *** *** **** MOM!!! Ya big doof!

Me: What?!

Heather: Are ya kiddin' me?!


HEATHER: YOU've got one on YOURS!

Me: *** *** *** wha-??? **** are you KIDDING ME????

Heather: Yeah, ahahaha, that's what was so funny about your open letter the other da-

Me: no, no, NOOOOOO! I didn't know! I HATE THOSE THINGS!!! I don't want all both people who read my blog to be subjected to that!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh the inhumanity!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Alas and alack!

Heather: Mom. Calm down. No biggie. Just go to your Settings and take it off.

Me: um-kay.

So dear sweet precious readers, those of you who are followers and you drive-bys too (FYI-it doesn't hurt to be a folllower, I promise!) ignorance is no excuse for the law. Guilty as charged! I had no idea about the dreaded "word verificay", because it did not ever come up on my screen, but now, thanks to my savvy daughter, it will no longer come up on yours! I feel like I just walked out of the LADIES room with my skirt tucked in my panty hose, AND tissue stuck to the bottom of my shoe, and nobody even told me about the spinach in my teeth. I guess y'all didn't want to embarrass me, huh? Well now, I 'ppreciate it! So IF you care to comment today, no more annoying obstacles to get in your way!

Looks like it was me who had the idgit gene today. Now how 'bout that?!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Old and Outta Shape

So, I've lost some weight in the last 6 months, and still losing....I guess when I get a hole in my sock and fall out, I might think that's enough. I have come to realize (like most adults who reach that ever-so-difficult-to-admit age of f--fff---ffff-ffifty), that exercise is the key to keeping "Addie Pose and her annoying little dimply children" at bay. Where in Helsinki does that cellulite come from anyway? I KNOW there a Cellulite Fairy somehwere!! I bet she is a fat, ugly, thing with stanky garlic breath and a deep-fried turkey leg for a magic wand.....I'd like bust her chops just once with that greasy gobbler's hock...Grrrrrr....thanks to her it's like I sat on a bunch of hard bubble wrap one day and none of it popped- it just left a forever impression on my....nevermind.

So....exercise..... I decided it might be good for me and Big Sugar to burn a few calories if we were to do the 10-mile bike ride around the beautiful lake 3 blocks from our home in Oklahoma City. Nice sunny day, a bit breezy (in Oklahoma that is code for winds of about 20-25 mph) and off we go, Steve in his cool ball cap and me in my silly-looking-but-gotta-wear-it bike helmet, being a nurse with ortho/neuro background and all. It was going to be great, right?

Hadn't ridden in a while, in few da-, wee-, mo-, okay- in about a year really. After calling Terminex to rid my bike of all the cobwebs, we headed out for a bit of "ex-ree-size". I don't know what it is about Lake Hefner in OKC, but there is a perpetual vortex, perhaps a worm hole in the space time continuum?, that causes you to ride face first into the eternal wind, no matter which direction you go around the lake. What is UP with that?! You don't need a bike stand here in Oklahoma, just lean your bike against the wind- it WILL stay up. (Motorcycles too on a good day...) I felt like I was in a wind tunnel, for cryin' out loud! My hammies and quads were cussin' me out! I was huffin' and puffin'! I haven't felt the burn like that since I had natural childbirth 28 years ago!! What?! First gear, first sprocket?! Now that is just SAD!!!!!!

And the burn wasn't just in my gams either......gel seat....GEL SEAT???!!! gel seat, my hind-end!!!!! Now I do not hail from the state of Big Assachusetts, never have had that problem, thank the good Lord above. But still, I was told to get a comfy gel seat- Hear me now, people. DOES. NOT. WORK. MM-KAY? I'm just saying. I now KNOW the definition of nuuuuuuuuumb. Yes. Yes I do.

You know you really ought to give up biking when you are passed by speedy Granny Myrtle Beth from down the street.........who happens to be walking on the bike path with the help of her 4-prong cane and her sweet, hobbling, three-legged, canine companion, Chester, who is older than your varicose leg veins, that are now more prominent than ever, thanks to the over-exertion of trying to hold your sweet little aspirations up off that stupid, non-functioning rip-off of a gel seat because your tired, albeit rather tiny, behind is on "FIE-YUR!!!" and needs a break from the bicycle of terror....

Who's bright idea was that? Oh yeah, it was mine.....but you know what? We're still riding and it had gotten easier and we are getting faster- so watch out for the jet stream in our wake Granny M-B! Here we come!!! Now how 'bout that?!

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Open Letter To the Word Verification

Deerrr Word Verification att thu bodum uv thu komint sexun uv mi fayvert blogggirz:

Wy doo yew lerk beeloh wen wee syn awff, staen tu thu vuree lasd menet, lyk thu lefd ovir dizguzteeng bakkwarsh inna 2-yeer ols sippeee kupp?

Uhbowt thu tym wee theenk wee arr dun maykn owr phunnee komints wee ind upp tripppen ovr yew. Soh itz tym yew herrd frum uhs. Juz reed ahn, yew liddl bockz uv nooisunz.

Awww, wut's thu maddur? Caynt reed thiz leddir??? Let's try it my way.

Perhaps a different font would make it a little more interesting, hmmm?!

Let's try a little Webdings...can ya read this????

Let's try a little Webdings...can ya read this????

No??? UH-oh! TOO bad, do over!!!! Do it over I said! Well, too bad. Go away and stop annoying all of us. You are not needed here.

Really perturbed (that's p-e-r-t-u-r-b-e-d),


PS- "Word Verification" about ACTUAL's not like you would ever run out....or how about spellcheck, you oxymoron!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Open Letter to the Drunk Guy at the Concert in Chicago

Dear Across-the-aisle-just-3-feet-away-endlessly-puking-perpetually-spewing-idiot-who-had-WAAAAAAAAAY-too-much-beer-at-the-Corona-sponsored-tailgating-party-before-the-Kenny-Chesney-Sun-City-Carnival-Tour-concert-ever-even-started-at-4PM-so-that-you-were-totally-passed-out-while-providing- quite-the-disgustingly-memorable-projectile-emetic-show,

So. I'm guessing you won't ever eat peanuts I right?

No pity for you,

PS- Too bad about your boots....and your shirt.....your jacket.......jeans....the guy in front of idgit.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

CHICAGO, My Kind of Town!!!

OK, all you wonderful back seat travel advisors out there. Here's your chance. This Southern gal is going up north among the Yankees for a lil' trip with Big Sugar. Lawd, have muhcy! I'm thinkin' my accent will stand out just a smidgen....It is summertime and time for one of our little vacations. We are going to Chicago to celebrate our wedding anniversary. We have had 32 years of wonderful wedded bliss. Believe it or not, we are still on our honeymoon! When she was a little girl, Heather Cherry used to roll her eyes and mutter an exaggerated "Eww!" when she would catch us smooching in the kitchen, but now when she is over for dinner, I think she is used to it. Or maybe just sick of it, who knows... all I know is it's pretty wonderful to be more in love today than I was 32 years ago. You know what? He tells me the same thing. I . Shall. Keep. Him.

Anyho, just wondering what tips y'all have about Chicago.... Who grills the best steaks? Who has the best deep-dish pizza pie? Where can we find the freshest mouth-watering seafood? How about the local color mom-and-pop Italian establishment that makes fresh pasta and a sauce so good you'll slap yourself? Well, where IS it??? What SHOULDN'T we miss in this great metropolis??? Places to go, food to eat, things to buy???? Come on, peeps, CHIME IN HERE.

Don't leave me hanging. We leave on Thursday!!! This is not the time for a "drive-by blead!" (That would be a quick blog read and then you are outta here. Don't be a bleader!)DISCLAIMER: We don't imbibe, so any suggestions regarding bars, pubs, dives, watering holes, pools halls, stripjoints, and/or casinos will unfortunatley go unheeded. We are going to Soldier Field for a concert and maybe to a MLB game. We are staying right downtown on the magnificent mile and are so excited about this trip. Got any pointers for us? Well, whadaya know? I don't typically ASK for advice. I'm usually the one GIVING it! Now how 'bout that?!

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Do You Spook Easily?

Late last night in OKC Sonic Drive-ins had a free give-away for a couple of hours. So Big Sugar and I decided to jump in my Smartie and I drove 1.2 miles to the nearest Sonic because we wanted one of Summertime's greatest indulgences- the Root Beer Float! Now- what do you typically do with a root beer float? EAT IT, RIGHT? Yeah, well, I ended up WEARING mine. Uh-huh, you heard me. NOT my idea by the way.

I'd just phoned my son to tell him about the tasty freebie (of which he and Christy had already had two) and I put my iPhone down in my lap to take a scrumptuous bite. (a bit of foreshadowing here, you think?).....We were sitting there enjoying our floats and talking about the day. Unbeknownst to me , a Sonic employee had walked up to my window while my head was turned and I was talking to Big Sugar. As I was conversing wittily as I often do *batting eyelashes coyly* I glanced to my left and my brain registered that someone was hulking over me at the window.

In the space of a nanosecond there was some serious multi-tasking going on in that tiny little car. I jumped straight up, cleared leather- I'm talking daylight between me and the seat and floorboard, prayed fervently to the Lord God Almighty's Son above, just a one-word prayer, mind you, at about 120 decibels, while simultaneously tossing the entire contents of my root beer float up into the 72-degree air -and the cup itself stayed glued to my hand. The "floatness" did a half-gainer out of the cup, had 3 inches to spare on its upward arc before missing the convertible cloth headliner entirely, and proceeded to plummet back to earth and land on my In my younger days, the ice cream would've stayed there long enough for me to retrieve it.....these days? No. way. in. Helsinki. Ah, but I digress. Refreshing on a hot June evening? NO. Not even a wee bit. Every bit o'that that root beer gravy ran down all over me and into my lap........and just soaked in to my black yoga britches. Got all over my leather seat too.

Ok, remember, nanosecond, right? I completely froze ( no pun intended) right after my "little prayer", arms held aloft, jaw dropped in utter surprise, eyes blinking incredulously, adrenaline-infused heart pumping, and there was complete silence in the car, except for Big Sugar trying ever so unsuccessfully to hold in his laughter. He was just sitting there shaking and sorta wheezing, while trying not to choke on his big bite of free RBF.

And then Big Sugar said quite matter-of-factishly,

"I think I'm going to tell Jesus that you cussed. And you used HIS name to do it......"
*Me still frozen in place, turn my head only to look at him*
"I DIDN"T cuss, I was PRAYING!!!! ...... Can't you tell THE DIFFERENCE?!?!?!"
"Yes, yes you did. Pretty sure that sounded like cussing to me.....yep, that was cussing all right."
*Me now smiling, still wide-eyed*
"Well Honey, when I am scared shatless, I don't really have the time or the wherewithall to offer up a 'Dear Lord Jesus, help me in the midst of my storm of fear and doubt and lift me from the miry clay', when I feel that a really good resounding 'Juh-EEEE-zzzus!!!!!' will do in a glorified pinch and He knows my meaning anyhay."
*Big Sugar mumbling and laughing under his breath* "Cussing is cussing. I'm just sayin'."

So, the Sonic girl is STILL at my window wearing a big ol' smile and her cute lil' hat, and I roll the window down as the ice cream is melting in my lap. She smiles and says,

"Oopsie! Sorrrrrrrrr-ry. Wanna extra coupon???" *Smile, blink, blink*

"Nope. Perhaps a few extra napkins, though? That would be great." *Smile back, blink, blink*

It is possible to say an entire sentence gritting your teeth and smiling at the same time, and the other person be totally oblivious. Wasn't her fault, really. And I told her so. I just spook really easily. I have ever since I as 14 when a no-good someone, who knew better, sneaked up on me for a no-good reason. The result-a little therapy, lot of prayers, and in a pinch, some of them end up being just one word long. God is good.

Had to drive home holding the seatbelt away from me because of the root beer amoeba on the front of my person was one big sticky, stanky mess. Hey, remember my iPhone in my lap at the time of Sonic caustic spill? It escaped without even sustaining a single drop of damage. Now how about that?! Can't say the same for my shirt........

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Anybody got a Shoe Horn?

I have always been a bit of a car fanatic. My dad was a mechanic by trade, and did great paint and body work as well, so we always had really cool cars as I was growing up. We always had the most amazing conveyances; go- carts, mini-bikes, dune buggies, motorcycles, and the cars....oh man, the cars..... my brother had a '55 White over Red Chevy Belaire, (what a SWEET ride!), also a silver '57 Chevy. My friends say I change cars more than I change socks. That's about right. My insurance guy loves it too.

I have had cars in a number of different categories. I've been drawn to to "the hot rod "(had a red Chevy SSR- it was a rocket!), "the slow" (had a creamy yellow 1984 Mercedez 240 D, like a little stick o' butter on wheels- had to plan a week ahead of time just to pull out into traffic), "the novelty" (had the new neon green VW Beetle with turbo when they first came out- at 125 mph it would flat out hug the road) and now....well now, I 'm into "the unique". I drive a little 2-seater called a Smart Car (silver). So does Heather(red), but her pit bull, Snuggles, is a bit too big for it, so hers is up for sale. We were at the tag office last week and our cars were hanging out side by side , so I took advantage of the photo op.......

They look like they're smilin' atcha. I love it! Never ceases to amaze me the ridiculous things people say when they see a a Smartie.

Case in Point #1:

This goat-ropin' redneck walks up to me at the GAS station WHILE I WAS GETTING GAS-

Doofus: "What kinda mileage you git witha that leetle car?"

Me: "About 40".

Doofus: "Is that an all ELECTRIC car?"
Me: ......(putting away fuel nozzle, getting fuel receipt)..............."No."

Doofus: "Huh. What kind is it?"

Me: "A Smart Car."

Doofus: "SMART car?! What's so d--- smart about it?"

Me: (getting in the car to drive away) "I have one. You don't."

Woulda been nice to burn rubber as I left him in my dust, however my Smartie does not have that capability. I REALLY do miss that in SSR in times like that...

Case in Point #2:

Got in the world's s-l-o-w-e-s-t elevator at work after going to the little canteen downstairs for bottled water. As I was going up to my office to work on those never-ending worker's compensation files, the elevator stopped on the main foloor and picked up two ladies who just came in from the parking lot.

Now lemme tell ya, everyone is entitled to their opinion. I'm fine with that, 'cause Lord knows I have an opinion about everyting. EVERY. THING. I don't always SHARE it, but I still got it. So I act like I am not even listening, 'cause they weren't involving me in the conversation. All the way up to my floor I kept looking straight ahead as Magpie Mabel runs off at the mouth about "that crazy lookin' little car out there." *Shared laughter between them* ..."how ridiculous it looks."....*chuckle- chuckle*..."it looks like one of those tiny little clown cars in the Shiner's parade." ....*titter- titter* "how anyone with half a brain could even think about lowering themselves to buy something so unbelievable." The elevator door is about to open on my floor, and she finally looks over at me and I know she is ready to engage me in their not-so-private convo. So I look her right in the eye and start smiling with that oh- yeah-I-know-exactly-what-you-are-talking-about look, nodding my head......and she elbows me gently says, "I know you 've seen THAT car down there, EVERYone has seen it. I just call it STUPID. What would YOU call it?!" The elevator door opens on my floor, I gave her "the look"(subject for another post, another day) as the smile dissolved off my face, and I leaned toward her for just a bit of emphasis, and said softly in a nice, polite Southern fashion, "Why....I call it mine, ya'll." I left her stammering and squawking like a scalded chicken as he elevator doors closed and I giggleded all the way to my office. There's just no accounting for some folks.

OK, so you've seen women trying to fit into the low-slung jeans and there's "muffin-topness" and ugly spillage happening all over the place. It's like trying to put 50-lb mud in a 5-lb sack, right?! It pays to know your limitations. Some things just can't fit on small spaces, and get your minds out of the gutter right now- 'cause Im not goin' there. Well, sometimes the impossible can be done. Here is where I AM goin' with this...Look below....

We have a 2-car garage. I drive the Smartie, my hubby (aka Big Sugar) drives a Honda Civic, but he also has a beautiful 2008 Silver Corvette........

And we can fit all 3 in the 2-car garage! Comes in right handy when you live in Tornado Alley and the HAIL comes pounding down the plain! We park the Smartie right in behind the 'vette and it is perfect! And we don't even need a shoe horn! Now how 'bout that?!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Open Letter to Isaac Newton

Dear Mr. Newton,

I don't typically write about "personal" things but today is different. Being 50, every day I am reminded of your "science-changing" discovery. I mean really. Gravity?!? Come. ON!!! Thanks to you, my lovely facial structure is a thing of the past. The rosy cheeks I once had in my youth have migrated to the underside of my jawline. Instead of my Welsh/German/ English heritage being most evident by softly sculptured cheeks and patrician facial features, now I just look like a dang greedy chipmunk storing up food for the winter in its pouchy jowls. My other, cheeks used to garner compliments that would make me blush, but now they have taken up residence at a much lower altitude these days. Thanks to you, I'll be needing walking shorts pretty soon just to be decent in public. I went jogging yesterday and thought some one was running right on my heels, until I realized the 'whap-pa-ta, whap-whap-pa-ta" sound I was hearing was my below-sea-level mudflaps hitting the backs of my thighs. Way to go, Isaac! And let us not forget the inevitable, a woman's worst enemy, thanks to that big fat Red Delicious taking a bounce off your noggin. The air has certainly gone out of my tires.....and if you don't understand the analogy, well you been in the lab a liiiiitle too long. Let me tell you something, Mister. It's pretty bad when your mammo tech takes one look at your attributes, before placing your precious parts in that glorified drill press, and asks "Um, do you have implants?" A quick opening of the gown illicits a pitiful look from said mammo tech along with a mummur of "Oooooooohhhh, guess not." I reckon a picture's worth a thousand words. You could have come up with a better idea than Gravity. How about a Helium Brassiere? You could have called it the "Up, Up and Away". Or here's a thought- How about a simple jogging bra for the blessed amoung us, huh? WHY is that so hard? You science brainiacs can split the atom, and put people in space, but you can't come up with something that Paula Petralunga can jog in without looking like a freakshow or appear as if she is smuggling two small piglets under her wick-away shirt. (Obviously the heartfelt letter to Under Armour did NOT work.) Why couldn't you have discovered a way to DEFY gravity? There's a money-maker! Then every woman would love you. But instead we all have to find ways to lift, shift, undergird and overlay all sorts of things just to fight that never-ending gravitational pull!! History says that perhaps you died of mercury poisoning due to all of your strange experiments. But I wonder if you might have been strangled by an irate woman with a whale-boned corset or two...

Thanks from the bottom of MY EVERYTHING,


Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Sweaty Feet

Ya got'ny sibs? I' got a sister and a brother, both older than me. I wanted to be like them SOOOO badly. They were cool, and popular, and brave enough to sneak out at night, and oops...nevermind! Nene, short for her given name Rowena, was 5 when I came along and Goo was 4. Goo, aka, Goober- short for, Ken, Kenney, Kenneth...that just morphs right on into Goooooober now doesn't it? It just sounded right when we dubbed him that. In the south, ever'body has a knickname. It is part of who you are.

Now you have to know that Ken wasn't named Goober after the gumpus on Mayberry who could, at times get into all kinds of idgitness because he didn't exactly wear common sense jeans. Not so with Goo. He is one of the smartest guys I know. And if it is broken, whatever it is, he can fix it. We called 'im Goober one day and it stuck. But we all have an idgit day once in awhile, right? You know, when you do something sorta stupid, without thinking, and then you REEEEEEally wished you hadn't? and you hope to Baby Jesus that nobdy saw you or even hears about it? Well, Goo, here's to you. This is for aaaaaall those times when you ate EVERY SINGLE THING I baked in my Easy Bake Oven before I even got a taste. And you laughed about it. Who's laughing now, huh? Bwahahaha! I've been waiting 41 years. 41 YEARS I TELL YA. AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Now the entire world will know....ok maybe just the 8 or 9 people who read my blog but, HAHAHAHAHAHA I FINALLY got YOU, GOO! Payback's a female dog, now ain't it?!

Some folks have sweaty feet. Guys in particular. My brother is one of 'em. One time he waved a pair of socks in front of me that had been stuffed down in a pair of his shoes somewhere in his closet for a couple of months. Let me tell you, there ain't no kind of funk like that anywhere. The hair in my nose fell out! I have smelled better two-week old roadkill from the back of my Harley than those reekin'dress gold-toes did that day. All of the Code Browns combined that I ever smelled on the floor of the hospital as a nurse pale in comparison to the odiferous fog emiited from my brother's Jethro Bodine- sized stems. My mom was always buying industrial-strength foot powder for Goo and his big ol'stanky funkins. He would pour it in his sneakers every day. I swear if they woulda had odor eaters back then, he woulda taken one step and flat-out disappeared.

One day, when Goo was about 14, the unthinkable happened. He ran out of his foot powder! Oh no! His covy of girlfriends might notice a chink in his armor! BMOC can't have a fume about him.....what to do, what to do?! He checked our bathroom for an extra can, but alas, there was none. He then went to Momma and Daddy's bathroom and looked in the medicine cabinet and, behold! There was a can of powder!!! Hurray- he was saved!!! He filled his shoes full of the newly-discovered powder and went about his way. Later he was telling Mom and Dad at the supper table that he was out of his nuclear fume-killing foot powder, but that he had used some of Daddy's foot powder this morning. Daddy paused and said "I don't have any foot powder."

Goo, said "Yeah, you do- that powder in your medicine cabinet." Mom and Dad exchanged the weirdest look ever in the history of man, and busted out laughing. Mom nearly choked on the meatloaf. Goo just kept getting madder and madder wondering why he was the brunt of an unknown joke. Nene and I just laughed right along with Mom and Dad 'cause we knew this was about him, and NOT us. Daddy jumped up and ran to his bathrom and came back with the powder can in hand and said "Boy, that ain't no foot powder you' been a'wearin'all day!" And then he showed him this and said "Read the label!"

The look on my brother's face can not be fully described. You men reader's out there, please just take a moment...and imagine what went through this macho 14-year old man-boy's mind...tantamount to using your gal's can of FDS and thinking it was your AXE. Ew. His self-confidence and manhood was now lost into the innersoles of his black PF Flyers. Goo couldn't wash his feet FAST enough. I don't know what was worse, Ken threatening all of us not to tell anyone, or Daddy's NON-STOP ribbing about Ken staring to walk like a girl, having a higher pitch to his voice and really getting in touch with his feelings. 'Course I wanted to call him Johnny Quest, after my favorite cartoon, but I didn't dare!

If you don't have a big brother , you are missing out on one of life's greatest blessings. I am pretty sure I have the best one the world has to offer. Yeah, he stole my Easy Bake Oven Culinary Creations, and he would hold me down and tickle me while holding my mouth and nose shut, and so what if he always turned the channel during my favorite TV shows. At some point, I'm not sure when, he went from being an older brother annoyed by a bratty younger sister, to being my bodyguard and best buddy. The day a boy on a youth group trip said a fowl two-word phrase to me, was the same day my big brother shook that boy like a ragdoll and said "Nobody talks to my sister like that", dragged him over to me and made him apologize in front of everyone. The day I got to college was the day he made it known that if ANY guy tried ANYTHING with me, he would clean their clock. Consequently, I met the cream of the crop- Big Sugar, because of a blind date set up by my brother, and well, when you are married to Filet Mignon, everybody else is just pork filler bologna. Can't thank you enough for that Goo.

I hope you have some good memories from childhood. Some real knee-slappers. Nothing like a good guffaw to clear your head. Think on those things today, and while you do that I'm going to re-apply my mascara, because I have laughed it off while writing this post. Ahahahaha, Johnny Quest! Now how'bout that?!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Just Another Spring Evening in Oklahoma

Just three short hours ago, the Oklahoma evening sky before sunset had the most gorgeous , unusual clouds. (Heather Cherry will have some on her blog too.) These are the blue/pink/ turquoise clouds that came floating by my house around 7:30 tonight.

Well what a difference 3 hours can make! In the South we have a common saying- it is common to US anyhay. When it's gettin' somewhat stormy outside, we say " Hey y'all, I b'lieve it's comin' up a cloud." In the grand state of Oklahoma, it can definitely come up a cloud right quick. Just now, the TV is on the news. 'Scuze me, time to chase a lil' rabbit for just a sec. Ya'll need to know right now that we have the best weather guys in the nation, bar none. Besides having the National Weather Service right down the road, all theses guys are stud storm chasers. Every one of 'em wears Jack Bauer pajamas, as far as I'm concerned, ya hear me? No fear, know what I'm sayin'? They can tell you street by street the exact path of a storm. They save so many lives every year.

Right now this very second, there are tornado warnings out for all of Oklahoma City and the surrounding counties. The sirens are going off, which sends Deuce into orbit. The rain is flying by sideways outside our newly replaced windows. (Goodness, they look FABULOUS...Wish it would hit just a bit harder, then I might not have to do the windows this week. Wup, who am I kidding? I don't DO windows. Where was I?) Oh yeah- sirens blaring, weenie dog howling of course (he IS from the HOUND group), lightning and thundering rattlin' everything, and the TV is on the news. (In the South, we don't say what is on the TV- we say what the TV is on. It's not that we are stupid, we just have a BETTER way of saying things. Sorta like the way we use contractions an awful lot. That way we're able to say a whole more'n a shorter time spot. It's just better, that's all. )
The weather guy's adamantly saying to the home audience the following life-saving advice: "Find your safe spot!" "Get into an inside closet or bathroom!" "Move away from your windows!" (I did, after I finished lookin' at the sideways rain) "We have hail the size of ping-pong balls, could increase to baseball-size in a matter of minutes." "Get out of all mobile homes and get to a sturdy shelter!" "We have reports of power outages, 5,00 people now without power!" (Not us...yet) "We have reports of a tornado on the ground, repeat it is ON THE GROUND! TAKE SHELTER NOW!" "It is now dissipating, winds are decreasing, and the tornado warning has expired." Whew! Typical spring evening in O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A, Okla-HOOOOOOOO-Ma!
The rain has ceased, said weenie hound has stopped his yodeling and has waddled back to chewing on his little cow hoof, yes that's what I said- cow hoof. (Doesn't do a thing for his breath, but he loves 'em!) and all I hear is the rumbling of the distant thunder and the raging storm that has once again passed us on by. And the best thing of it all? That fresh smell of rain that lingers in the air....I LOVE that wonderful scent! That is a smell from childhood, when I would play in the rain when my folks were at work. (Sorry Momma. Now you know. And you just thought I had a hankering to do some laundry on rainy days, huh?)
Some folks wouldn't live here for love nor money. Some folks are just flat-out scared of our neck of the woods. I met the love of my life here, he was born not to far from where we love now. We live smack dab in the middle of what they call "Tornado Alley". I call it the next best thing to Heaven and Dixie. Dear God, I Love Oklahoma! Dang it!....looks like I have some windows to do after how about that?!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

I have the Meanest Mother in Whole World

Today is Mother's Day and in honor of my mother, June, and my mother-in-love, Sally (who passed away in 1999) I am going to post an excerpt from an old letter submitted to Dear Abby many years ago. I hope everyone who reads this is as lucky as I am to have "the meanest mom in the whole world".... this describes my raising perfectly.

Dear Abby: Was your Mom mean? I know mine was. We had the meanest mother in the whole world! While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast. When others had a Pepsi and a Twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches. And you can guess our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too. Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You'd think we were convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were and what we were doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do. She always insisted on us telling the truth,the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds and had eyes in the back of her head. Then, life was really tough! Mother wouldn't let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them. While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16. Because of our mother we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other's property or ever arrested for any crime. It was all her fault. Now that we have left home, we are all educated, honest adults. We are doing our best to be mean parents just like Mom was. I think that is what's wrong with the world today. It just doesn't have enough mean moms!

Thanks Momma, for being the best "meanest" mom in the whole world. For teaching me how to be lady. For teaching me that God loves me no matter what. For teaching me that I was worth waiting for. For teaching me how to be a "mean" mom. It is not always convenient to do the right thing as a parent and be consistent, but it pays off in the end. Thanks Sally, for Steve. Without you he would have never been, never come into my life, been my husband, my children's father, my everything. I love you, Moms. Thanks for the footsteps you left for me to follow. You both have big shoes to fill.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

And I'm a Whole Lot Southern

You won't see any cusswords here. But you will see a creative way of talking and from time to time, some downright funny expressions- I hope . It is because of how I was raised. OK, so you know I'm a little bit country and a little bit cowgirl. Well, I'm gonna tell you right now, I am a whole lot Southern. And. Proud. Of. It. And here's why. I grew up in northeast Alabama. Now some of you out there might have some misconceptions. When you think of Southern folk you have visions of greasy mullets, doober-stained bottom lips and brownish green teeth- and that's just the women! The men you probably think of, wear skullets (said greasy mullets with a big fat hole in their hair), thread-bare wife beater t-shirts so thin you can read through them, and they pride themselves on burping the entire alphabet after drinking just one Pabst Blue Ribbon. (Shoot, no big deal there, some of us little adolescent gals could do that after just one Banana Moon Pie and an icy RC Cola.) Ah, but I digress.

Truth is Southern folk are good people. The men put their women on a pedestal, respect them, love them and know what manners are, and it is ingrained in them as second nature. They know that a gentleman stands up when a lady enters their presence. They know that they NEVER go through a door before a woman. For those of you that just don't fully understand that , this includes all kind of doors, doorways, archways, alcove areas, dog-runs, enclosed porches and pass-throughs....every kind, any kind, doesn't matter what kind- wood, glass, metal, bamboo, screened, automatic, handicapped, saloon, trap, do you get what I am saying here? If a lady is present, SHE goes first. If you are on an elevator, make way for the women first. If you were on a bank heist and you blew a hole in the wall, your lady partner goes through first. Tarzan always put Jane on the vine FIRST. He may have been raised by a bunch of apes, but even HE had manners.

Not long ago, I walked up to a table at a social function where several older men were seated, and they all got up. And some of them, it was not easy physically, even as I protested that they needn't bother. Those precious, sweet gentlemen who would not have had it any other way. One even had a hat on, and he doffed his hat to greet me. My mother always said "You can always tell when sombody's had good raisin'." She's right. (Momma, you are ALWAYS right.)

It never ceases to amaze me at the lack of good ol' fashioned manners with some of younger men that I run onto these days. I stepped on an elevator this morning and two guys entered with me. When that elevator door opened and I thought that Cletus the Cowboy was going to knock me down beating me out the door. "Hey Wild Bill, where's the fire?!"I don't know how in Helsinki he could move so fast seeing as how he was wearing a Bonanza Hoss hat so big the Derby gals woulda been green-eyed jealous, and a that belt buckle- he had to have made from that from a table saw blade. If he woulda bent over, that thing woulda cut him clean in two and made him half the man he thought he was to begin with. His Wranglers were so starched they woulda stood alone in the corner. They actually creaked when he walked! Thought it was his boot leather amking that noise. Who knew denim could be so musical? Anywhich, he was in an all-fired hurry about something, and being polite wasn't it. And the dude right beside him didn't exactly graduate from the Prince Charles Grace and Charm School Emporium either. He just fjumped right on out behind Cowboy Cletus. And pe-yew...I am pretty sure he drank his breakfast....."Hey, smooth move Hasselhoff- you born in a barn?" I bet Cletus and you have the same middle name and that would be IDGIT. Guess I have a thing about that. Same thing goes for car doors. Even if you are married. Especially if you are married. Just do it. Might getcha some unexpected sugar.....I'm just sayin'...

My dad always showed me the proper way a man should treat a lady by the way he treated my mom. I passed those things down to my kids, as did my hubby, Big Sugar. (HE IS THE BEST.) So you can imagine how well I liked one young boy who decided to date an unamed daughter of mine (who now likes to blog. ) That boy never once acknowledged my presence. Never a "Hello Mrs. Seaton". Never even looked in my general direction. But he would slouch his lazy aspiration on my nice sofa, eat my food and prop his dirty besneakered feet up on my new glass coffee table. Oh. Yes. He. Did. So when he showed up to take the unamed daughter and apple of my eye to the prom, I volunteered to pin his flower on his tux lapel.

HC, I mean, Daughter went to get her purse and I stepped right on up into this disrespectful little goathead's personal space. I was about 2 inches from his face and I held up that long stick pin, so he saw it really good. As I patted the little worm on his shoulder, I said reassuringly, "You don't need to be afraid of her daddy. But you should really be scared shatless of me." (I smiled, innocently...) "You know what I do for a living? Hmm?" ( I started pinning on the flower) "I'm a nurse....yeah, that's right, a registered nurse." (He STILL had not made eye contact with me. I was staring him down with nary a blink.) "...nurse. And I am reeeeally good with needles." (I leaned in a bit, whispering right by his ear) "....and I've killed before".......(leaned back and looked him in the eye, smiling again) "I'm fairly confident that you will treat my daughter as if I were right there watching your every move." That boy's goozle (Alabama term for Adam's apple) was bobbing up and down so fast, I thought I was going to have an aneurysm trying to keep my composure!

Said daughter came in ready to go and I was all bubbly and sweet, "You two kids have fun, now, and be careful. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt...heh-heh...all kinds of CRAZY people out there, ya know." Now that I remember, he had the sweetest little nervous laugh walking out the door. Funny how you recall those things. Don't you know she was home early...I don't recall him coming 'round much after that. Hmmm.........Now how 'bout that?!

Monday, May 4, 2009


This mystery place is Lima, Peru. Some of you out there got it! Way to go!!! The architecture is amazing, and it is both extremes. Very poor- to very rich.

Photo 1- The Governor's Palace
Photo 2- Homes on a hillside. They paint them with bright colors because the town is so smog-ridden. Most vehicles are diesel-powered. Choke-choke! The air quality was horrible.
Photo 3-The view from the hotel we stayed in.
Photo 4- the Post Office....didja hear me? THE Post Office, as in THE ONLY POST OFFICE in Lima. If someone mails something to you, you go get it, and hope no one stole it before you get there.
Photo 5- A large Catholic Church near the square. The churches there are incredible!
Photo 6- A building on the should see it in person.

Went to Lima on a medical mission trip last summer (Heather Cherry too, who is fluent in Spanishola) and our team treated 525 children that week. To say that it was a life-changing experience just doesn't cut it. We saw people who do not bathe, not because they don't have running water- they don't HAVE WATER, and they don't have any money to buy it or means of bartering for it. We met people who LIVE IN THE AMAZON JUNGLE, huts, sleeping on the ground. Others live in cardboard houses in the city. We met children who live among the trash heeps in the city dump and hunt for plastic all day and sell it just to be able to eat THAT DAY. And that was not the worst of it. I saw things I never thought in my life I would ever see. And I met the most loving, grateful culture of people I have ever met. And you know what? I will go back and do it all over again.....Let me tell you friends, we are a blessed country in SO many ways. If you ever get a chance to go on a mission trip of some kind, you know- outside your comfort zone (after the Swine Flu bizniz has been addressed), please think about it. You can do something for someone less fortunate than yourself, and you will find that you have changed for the better . Reminder- WASH YOUR HANDS, & COVER YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU COUGH OR SNEEZE! This has been a Public Service Announcement presented by Ima Onamysobocks. There. I'm done. Happy MM!

Monday, April 27, 2009

Lil' Bit Cowgirl

I'm a little bit country, and I'm a little bit cowgirl too. Love rodeos, westerns, country music, target shooting, camping and the outdoors. Don't have any cows, don't own any horses either. But I have friends here in Oklahoma City who do. That is the best of both worlds!

One friend is a horse whisperer, and that is an amazing thing to watch. His horses don't understand "Giddyup" or "Whoa Boy". This animal master utters soft little sounds, kisses and commands. He uses hand signals and bales of love to train his gorgeous babies, including wild mustangs. Rode horses with him and his assistant once, and my ride's name was Lightning. Uh-huh, that's what I said. Now SOME things just ought to give you pause. Maybe , just maybe I shoulda asked if there was a horse named Pokey, or Molasses. Perhaps I should have wondered about his name just a tidge more. Like why would a beautiful chesnut, quarter horse be named after something that is white hot and travels 3,700 miles per second? Instead of pondering that obvious bit of nomenclature, I just climbed right on, took three tries to pull myself up but hey! that's what happens when your biceps have migrated south and can tell you the wind speed and direction on any given day in Oklahoma. (I don't go sleeveless in public anymore. Last time, the wind caught me just right and it sounded like my blue SCHWINN from childhood when I used to attach my Old Maid cards to the spokes with clothespins. You can hear it can'tcha?) OK, so I was ready to re-live the life of Annie Oakley or Calamity Jane. (Some people would say the second persona is more apropos for me if you've ever seen me behind the wheel...but that is a post for another day!)

After WALKING the horses for what seemed like days on the trail, really about 15 minutes, I made the mistake of asking "Hey Bailey, we gonna ever change gears?" Well he turned around and had the nerve to grin this evil smile at me and then, being the horse whisperer that he is, said something sotto voce in equine-eeze and oh man! We changed gears alright.....we downshifted right into second, laid some hoof, and I started catching air between my denim-wrapped aspirations and the leather saddle that was firmly getting my attention. I learned right quick that it is more than possible to ride with one boot-clad foot tippy-toed in the stirrup and one knee not-so-gracefully draped around the horn (it doesn't honk by the way- and who is the big, fat, goat-head that named it the "HORN" anyway?!?) Oh, and I let fly a beautiful one-word prayer straight up to my Lord and Saviour. And He heard me. People in Cleveland heard me, 'cause I yelled it loud and proud.

If only I would have had on a sequined be-fringed jumpsuit with big ol' country singer hair and a belt buckle that could double as a dinner plate...I bet I coulda hired on at the local rodeo as "Rip Roarin' Rhonda June- Stunt Rider Extraordinaire". Yeah, alright- I'm kidding. It was pretty comical, pretty sure even the horses were laughing.

My horse was so well trained that any little vocal nuance was a type of "go-command", unbeknownst to me. A well-oiled machine like that means you have to be reeeeeally careful. An itty-bitty cough or soft glottal stroke and you could end up in Dallas before you know it. I was hanging there , in my hindsight dangling gracefully really, off the side of that saddle, pulling on the left rein. So we just kept riding in a BIG circle to the left. Lightning problably thought my blinker was stuck. And all the grunting and groaning I was doing from the saddle horn torture was obviously a language Lightning understood, and it meant "Hyah!!!!"

I leave you today with a savvy piece of advice from this little-bit cowgirl: If you have never ridden a horse, try it at least once in your lifetime. And the walking gear is just fine. If you ever get a chance to ride a "whispered horse" named Lightning, and you're posing for a picture? For Heaven's sake don't blow a kiss to the camera, 'cause that'll getcha 0 to 60 in 4.2 seconds! Don't EVEN ask me how I know that....I just, uh...anybody seen my hat? How about my dignity? Hmmm? Anybody??? Now how 'bout that?