When Suzanna Smiles

What I’d like you all to do before reading this post is to go to your freezer, and grab that pint of ice cream you have hidden in there behind the frozen vegetables. If you don’t have ice cream, (and you know you do) fill a glass with water and ice and let stand for 5 minutes.

Have you all done this? Good.

Now, for your next assignment, I want you to submerge your front teeth into the frozen substance, be it the ice cream or the icy water, and keep them there for the next...oh... 12 hours straight.
Do not take them out no matter what!

Are you feeling the intense sensitivity of your teeth as they contact the cold? Are you feeling the brain freeze that starts within the central core of your teeth, traveling through the nerves, up your gums and to the top of your eyebrow? Yes. Yes. That’s the sensation I’m talking about.
Ok.
Now that you're feeling my pain...

I’m back from the dentist again, with another installment of “When Suzanna Smiles”. My teeth are so sensitive that I can’t even breath as the flow of air directly across the surface of my teeth is providing the same sensation as our little teeth-in-the-ice cream experiment.

He grinded my teeth down into little points of nothing. He grinded through my teeth, past my gums, and deep into the far recesses of my skull. At least that’s what it sounded like to me from inside my head.

I’m sure he grinded for a solid hour.

I, in the meantime felt nothing… but am certain I saw and smelled smoke.
Both the seeing and smelling of smoke go against the very nature of dental hygiene to the best of my knowledge. I’m sure it was there though…

But now…
now that the Novocain has dissipated and the Dentist is well out of my swinging range… the mere feeling of my own tongue dancing across the surface of my teeth is sending me through the roof!

It seems I have traded in my TMJ for the same sensation one gets when hearing fingernails scratching down a chalk board,…
or yes
sticking your teeth in ice cream.

All that for the low low price of $12,000.
Am I gorgeous yet?

Who's Ready to vacation?

I’ve had just about enough of the winter and being sick. I’m ready to think about lovely weather, blue skies, and flip flops.

While surfing around for hot vacation spots I ran across these over water lagoon hotels in Bora Bora. They come equipped with glass bottomed floor sections where you can observe the sea life as it swims under your hut.

Works for me…
sign me up.

What a Hotel! 

Can we go here now? Please! 

She's Alive!

The flu fairy came…
And the flu fairy went.

And in her wake is a worn path between my bed and the bathroom.

I’m up and managing to rehydrate myself after 24 hours of expelling every last ounce of liquid from my body in the most of unladylike manners.
Quite frankly, I didn’t know I had it in me.

Not yet at 100%, but am working on keeping some food inside with the hopes of regaining a hint of strength.

I’m going to spend the day playing catch up between periods of sitting down to rest and drinking lots of fluids. My energy level is at minus 0 matching what appears to be the temperature outside judging from the look of things. No point in going outside in that mess today even if it is Saturday.

It would also appear that the flu fairy has left me an ugly pile of laundry to deal with today.
The hag.
Mighty rude if you ask me.

I appreciate the well wishes from everyone yesterday! It brought a ray of sunshine to my room while I was lying there feeling all pitiful and raison-like.
I’d give you all a hug and a kiss, but then you’d get my flu germs, and be forced to go disinfect or something.

I’ll spare you the misery and just say Thanks!

My cat never left my side. He’s such a pumpkin

My little companion 

I'm home in bed sick today and I can't help but wonder..What age do most people stop wanting their Mommie's when they get sick? My mom is the best when i'm sick...and I need some babying. Is that bad? It's bad isn't it? sigh 

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog. Unfortunately I lost all of the previous comments but at least it's functioning now!

Señor Cochise

Senor Cochise 

A horse is a horse, of course….of course.

Unless of course he’s been exposed to some sort of radiation blast.

Then he’s a big hairless white rat with no eyelashes, named Cochise.

Sharon’s post today (Jan 26) made me remember the first time I ever rode a horse. It was on vacation, and we went with a group of people on a ride that started in the jungle and ended with a long gallop along a beautiful white sandy beach.

I, in my best broken Spanish, politely told the guide that I had never ridden a horse before and wanted the kindest, slowest, most sensitive caring horse in the lot, so as not to fall off and kill myself.

He understood my request to be,… “please give me a large hairless rat masquerading as a horse, that will ignore me, stop to graze on bushes off the beat and path, and do nothing it’s told” “oh yes…and after all of that? Please make it gallop with reckless abandonment across the beach for a solid 30 minutes at speeds approaching the sound barrier so that I may hang on for dear life while my ass is pummled down to a size 0.”
Muchas Gracias.

Needless to say I’ve never laughed so hard in my life! From the moment we left, or I should probably say from the moment the group left and Cochise and I hung out to lollygag around while examining the indigenous flora and fauna …, to the exhilarating beach jaunt that taught me my thigh muscles rival any vice clamp ever made.

We bonded.

Master and Beast.

I spoke to Cochise with clear English and strong confident commands. I used the rope that dangled around his head to ever so gently encourage him along the path.

“What? You mean they’re supposed to have a bit in their mouth”?
Not my Cochise. I’m pretty sure a bit would have rubbed a nasty sore on his gums where his teeth once existed.

Oh, and just a footnote? Cochise speaks Spanish. duh.

I’m sure I heard that horse laughing hystericlly at me when our trip was done.
-----------------

"A horse is a horse of course, of course.
And no-one can talk to a horse of course
that is of course
unless the horse
is the famous… uh..Señor Cochise.”.

See THIS

Tuition refund?

I promise I went to college.
I promise I even showed up for my classes on most occasions, and even passed with a B average. Really I did.

Ok…there were a few classes during spring quarter that I might have skipped, because the weather was so beautiful and the football team was meeting at the swimming pool. (You would have gone too, for the chance to see some of them without their shirts on, you’ll have to trust me on that one)

There might have been a few instances during winter quarter algebra class too, now that I think about it. The one that started at 8:00 in the morning, making it almost impossible to get out of a warm bed purely for the opportunity to write mathematical equations three pages long that perpetually left me asking... “but WHY does X=19? Who sais so”?

I promise I even graduated from college and went on to study further on a Masters and in many professional business courses. All of which I did very well in if I do say so myself.

So, it’s not my fault that math has evolved is it? That since the time I graduated, some 17 years ago, the world’s scholars have devised new and more fascinating ways to come to the same correct answer for a simple multiplication problem?

Does it mean that I’m scholastically challenged because I’ve never heard of the methods my son is bringing home from 4th grade math class?

It seems I’ve allowed my brain to marshmallow into a big bag of incompetent goo by not keeping up with today’s hip tactics for calculating 45 x 2 ? Yes silly…, I know the answer, but apparently it isn’t the answer they’re interested in anymore.

It’s the process.

I’m sorry. I can’t help but notice that somewhere along the line I missed the class where they taught multiplying by using a series of grids and boxes, columns and rows with diagonal lines running through them at each intersection to find the correct answer after adding the diagonal lines.

I bet it was that day at the beach.

I wonder if my parents are entitled to a partial refund of college tuition?
Hmmm.

Monday. Brrr

It’s chilly today, a sweater is a good idea and maybe even a jacket.

I type that with a slight pang of guilt, as it seems that everyone in the uppermost part of our great Nation is buried under 10 feet of snow!

I remember mornings of scraping ice and snow off of my windshield, freezing fingers and toes, and proclaiming in my best Scarlet O’Hara voice “As God is my witness, as long as I live, I swear, I’ll never live in the cold again!”

And I moved back to the South.

We’ve got a few cold-ish days every now and then, but nothing like what some of you are experiencing. My body is simply not suited for the extreme climates. It doesn’t matter what I put on, how many layers, or what space age material my underwear is made of… If it’s below 40 degrees….you’ll find me curled up somewhere in a shivering heap of frozen wimpy.

It might be because I’m thin. It might be because I don’t have a whole lot of muscle on my frame to generate any kind of internal warmth. It doesn’t really matter… you don’t have to tell me twice to come inside for a cup of hot chocolate.

It’s cold, and I’m going to bundle up today, in my new battery operated warming socks available from your local Bass Pro Shop retailer….hunting department is my guess. I got a pair for Christmas this year and they rank right up there with the best things I’ve ever received!

Happy Monday!

A post brought to you from the makers of AFRIN: 4 hour nasal spray.

I’d like to write today about this thing I like to do.
It’s called breathing.
You know,….that whole flow of oxygen thing?... in and out of your lungs, transporting life supporting O2 nourishment through the veins of our bodies?

I know you’ve all heard of it, experienced it, and probably do it rather well if I had to guess.
I’m not bad at it myself, only my quest lies in actually managing to breath through my nose as opposed to my mouth, avoiding that dumb deer-in-the-headlights, open mouthed look I sometimes have as a result of a stuffed nose.

I’d like you to take a second and read an earlier post of mine. It gives a bit of background info to support why I can’t breath through my nose in the first place, and yes…. I realize this may cause you to voluntarily remain here for more than 30 seconds but never the less, I’ll ask you to do it anyways. When you’ve done reading that entry…come back here and finish today’s post. Go ahead. I’ll wait………


Good. I’m glad you came back! Now where was I.
Oh yes.
My quest for nose breathing.

I should start by confessing an ugly addiction. While I’m on the wagon now, there once was a time when my addiction was overwhelming, and spinning helplessly out of control.

Totally disregarding the warning labels on the bottles, I became addicted…
to nose spray.

I remember the first time I used Afrin….snorting the precious substance up my nose, and feeling the wonderful euphoria of breathing effortlessly through my nostrils for the first time in my life. It was a dream come true! An exchange of oxygen so pure and clear that when the drug’s effects wore off,…

I had to have more.

So I snorted again.

I grew to depend on the substance for every breath and before I knew it, I was no different than your average street junkie, needing my fix every few hours… snorting
not one,
not two,
but three squirts of Afrin up each nostril. It wasn’t pretty.

The next thing I knew, I was stashing Afrin bottles everywhere, hiding them in my car, in the cabinets, behind books, in every room of the house because the urge to snort could hit at any time and without warning.

Eventually, I realized that my addiction was out of control and I needed help. Together with my doctor, and a 3 step program of nasal steroids, medication, and time…I weaned myself from the drug, and regained control of my life.

While the chemical addiction itself is over, the desire to breath through my nose is ever present. Allergies and itchies can be helped with antihistamines, but breathing directly through my nose remains a fond yet distant memory.

Then, one day as though the universe had divinely guided me toward a bright and beautiful light…I discovered these things called “Breath Right” strips. (Angelic music playing in the background)

Much like a springy band-aid you stick to the outside of your nose, they gently pull open the nasal passages while you sleep, allowing more space for air to enter. You’ll see them stuck on the noses of professional football players, and now… yours truly.

I don’t need to tell you how sexy it looks either!
Me…
my silky nighty…
and my Breath Right strip.
Got a visual?
Now go ahead and ask yourself…

How could you not love me?
Ahem.

Stuff

I’m just beside myself with giddy this evening!
I worked on the garage today and it is now totally organized, compartmentalized, boxed up, and in some cases even labeled by holiday contents. (gives myself a round of applause and does the “you’re the boss” dance)

My garage is clean! Say it with me now brotha’s and sistah’s!
The garage is clean! Yea-yah…

My garage is so clean in fact you can actually park a full size mini van in it, and still have room to spin around with your arms wide open, while leaping naked through the air yelling “yippee”!

Not that I did that or anything, uh…, mind you, but I could have if I were the kind of person that was so inclined to do that sort of thing.
I didn’t.
I’m just sayin.

There’s space where there once was stuff.

How much stuff does a person need anyways?
When is it ok to get rid of your Cheerleading uniforms, or your high school memorabilia?
What age do you have to become to finally say, “ok…I’m probably not going to need this baby stroller any more because the kids can all walk perfectly fine with their own two legs and it’s just taking up space.

I’ll be 40, no wait, 30 again this year, so it’s highly unlikely that I’ll be having any new little bundles of joy to add to the present collection. I’d say it’s safe to go ahead and get rid of the baby stroller, and the maternity clothes, wouldn’t you?

Of course there’s all those adorable little outfits, and baby hats.
And what about that cute little onsie little man wore when he was 8 months….you know…the one with the ears and the silly bears’ face on the butt, that looked really precious when he crawled around on the ground?

I need that don’t I?

Sure I do. Let’s put that one back in the box.

No really….put the baby clothes down and step away from the box!
I’m just going to keep a few things.
I promise.

It’s hard. Life can be measured in so many ways. We tend to hang on to our things…
our “stuff”
because it represents where we’ve been and what we’ve done. Memories flood to the forefront and we relive the precious moments of our lives when we revisit our stuff, like when our babies were actually still babies.

I know I can’t take my stuff with me when I die.
But it's all I've got and I can still keep some of it in a box.

A box to take out and savor when the mood hits
and I need a baby fix, or a smile,
to remember.

I'd like this to be my mouse cursor, but I can't figure out how to do it!

mouse 

The Breakfast of Champions

I ate a spoonful of peanut butter this morning for breakfast.

Actually it was more like two spoonfuls.

Ok Ok Ok. I ate THREE SPOONFULS of peanut butter for breakfast this morning alright?!
At least they were little tea spoons and not big tablespoons.

I should have topped them off with Prozac sprinkles.

I’m just sayin.

I want to break free! (To the sound of Queen)

It was about 4:00 A.M. when I heard my son yell for me.

Him: Mom I need you! Come quick!
Me: Waking up from a dead sleep… and judging by the dampness of my nightgown… my nightly sphfitzing.
Him: MOM! Really…I need you, come quick. My hamster got out!!
Me: Eyes pop wide open as realization of lost rodent wandering aimlessly in house sinks in.
Him: I heard a noise and when I looked over, I saw his cage was open!
Me: Jumps out of bed and heads for son’s room while simultaneously throwing on an absorbent robe.

Spent the next 30 minutes trying to figure out where the little rat..er uh…hamster was. We sat very quietly, listening for sounds, any evidence as to where she might be. I searched in the box of GI Joes…carefully moved a puzzle over so as not to squish her just in case she materialized.

Then, I heard some rustling sounds coming from another toy box.
I leaned closer and listened with bionic ears that only a woman can aquire while trying to find small escaped rodents in house.

The little critter had found her way into a box of assorted plastic reptiles, and was crawling around like a fugitive in the night.

She’s gotten so hefty and smart that she now knows not only how to open the cage door, but how to chew off the tie twisty first, enabling her to open the door and break free...escaping into the dark night!

The little shit.

Am currently searching for chew proof hamster cage door locking devices.

Couldn’t we just have a dog or something?

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Were you born in the 40's,50's,60's,70's?

This came in an email to me today and it's so true. I'm posting it today in light of the fact that i've been contemplating alot lately about parenting my son...wondering if I am doing the right things, am raising the kind of man the world can be proud of, am raising an individual who can think for himself...appreciate and respect others, and most importantly, successfully survive in today's world.
----------------------------------------
We were born in the 40's,50's,60's,70's.
We survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing and didn't get tested for diabetes.

After that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets, knee pads, elbow pads, butt pads etc.

As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the back of a pick up on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, bread and butter and drank soda pop with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were O.K.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Play stations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on cable, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no cell phones, no personal computers, no internet or internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate worms and although we were told it would happen, we did not put out very many eyes, nor did the worms live in us forever.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them!

Cheerleaders and little league had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't, had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all!

If YOU are one of them! CONGRATULATIONS!
You had the good luck to grow up as kids, before the lawyers, and the government regulated our lives for our own good.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it?

Sunday

With holidays over and children all back in their routine, I could stand it no longer. The mess in the house had gotten past my tolerance level, and I awoke yesterday, a woman on a mission. A mission to remove the clutter, to dust, to go through the stacks of magazines and catalogues where no other woman has gone before, and bring my house once again to it’s peaceful organized state of equilibrium.

Dressed in my woman on a mission attire, I set forth to the first task at hand. The bathtub was draining unusually slow again, so I unscrewed the little dohicky, and removed the thingamabob from the tub. ( Don’t hate me because I’m so technically inclined). Using a pair of old tweezers, I carefully dislodged the long strands of tangled black hair from the drain, allowing the water to flow freely as God intended. Then I went on a rampage cleaning, scrubbing and organizing the under sink cabinets with my newly purchased plastic organization boxes. God I love it!

When the bathroom was spic and span I tackled my next victim, the kitchen. Cabinets, floors, sinks, refrigerator, windows ….nothing was safe from my 409 gun or my comet.

I tackled the office in the same fashion ...organizing, vacuuming, tossing away clutter.

With most of the house done, I ate dinner and watched movies with a primal pleasure one can only derive from a job well done.

And now it’s Sunday. I suppose we should be coming home from Church about now…maybe stopping off at a waffle house for an after service Sunday brunch. Only I don’t go to church. I don’t affiliate myself with any particular religious organization for several reasons.

Please don’t misunderstand. I believe in God I live my life trying to be good and honest, helpful and charitable, but I do not attend church services as a rule. I visit occasionally, usually more for the children’s sake, or to watch one of my friend’s children perform or sing, but it’s not a ritual. Religion is fascinating to me, and there are many unique and culturally based religions worthy of study…however I have a basic fundamental opposition to them in the organized sense. Which is odd, because the word “organized” alone can send me into the throws of ecstasy.

It just that, as a rule, most organized establishments make it their business to judge others. They decide amongst themselves who is worthy of heaven and salvation, and who isn’t. It disturbs me to see people oppose other people, based on their differing faith, their sexual orientations, or their decisions to choose life vs. abortion. They judge you on “how” you pray, how often you go to church…and to “whom” you pray through, whether it be Jesus, or Mary, or directly to god himself. I know people who go to church faithfully, participate in Sunday Schools, only to bad mouth someone else in conversation, yell at their children, and flip off others in traffic, yet they are convinced they will go to heaven over the Buddhists, one of the most peaceful peoples of the planet, as they will surely burn in hell for not praying to Jesus.

I just don’t believe it is my place to judge, and I’ve never found a church that doesn’t do this to some degree.

So in the meantime…Sunday will continue to be house cleaning day. Today is the downstairs bathroom and the yard.

Isn’t cleanliness next to Godliness?

In closing, I’ll say that I hope I didn’t offend anyone, and I’ll leave you with something from the Buddhist culture.
Something to contemplate.
Something to make you go…hmmmm.

Taken from The Basics of Buddhist Wisdom

The Eightfold Path
1. Right view is the true understanding of the four noble truths.
2. Right aspiration is the true desire to free oneself from attachment, ignorance, and hatefulness.
These two are referred to as prajña, or wisdom.
3. Right speech involves abstaining from lying, gossiping, or hurtful talk.
4. Right action involves abstaining from hurtful behaviors, such as killing, stealing, and careless sex.
5. Right livelihood means making your living in such a way as to avoid dishonesty and hurting others, including animals.
These three are refered to as shila, or morality.
6. Right effort is a matter of exerting oneself in regards to the content of one's mind: Bad qualities should be abandoned and prevented from arising again; Good qualities should be enacted and nurtured.
7. Right mindfulness is the focusing of one's attention on one's body, feelings, thoughts, and consciousness in such a way as to overcome craving, hatred, and ignorance.
8. Right concentration is meditating in such a way as to progressively realize a true understanding of imperfection, impermanence, and non-separateness.

Happy Sunday

Checks and Balances

Ah yes...it's bill paying time again. I've been sitting here writing checks for 30 minutes now and it seems everyone wants a piece-a-me! Writing checks is always a fun thing isn't it? I've written 10 so far: water, electric, cable, mortgage, doctor's bill, private school, Visa, cell phone, sewer, internet access,...who am I forgetting? You? Do I owe you money too? Step in line please...it forms to the right.

The mail is coming in hot and heavy lately. Mostly bills, but also the required pre-tax statements from banks, and investment agencies are finding their way unto my desk. I'd like to get a head start on my taxes this year if possible because I'm on a roll here...and they might as well get me now while I'm already passing out checks. I've been working on my signature too, and oh yeah...it's looking very snazzy these days.

I contemplated getting some fancy printed checks covered with cute pictures of fuzzy kitty cats, or puppy dogs...but nah. That's just not my style. I like my checks to be somber, much like the mood they provoke as I sign them over to the masses.

The end of the calendar year brings interesting statistics at work as well, as we calculate mileage reports, and figure commission checks. Last year's sales were high and exceeded set goals so we won an all expense paid, all inclusive trip to Costa Rica for 5 days! It was great and by far one of the best vacations I've had in a long time! The contest is on this year too so I'm champing at the bit to see if we won again. This years trip is to Mexico... Cancun I believe and while I've already been there before, it should still be as fun.

I'll leave you with some pictures of last year's Costa Rican trip! Please don't hate me because I ride motorcycles and hairless horses!

take me to the free banana dacquiris my good man! 

us 

touring life outside the pearly gates of the resort 

This was great fun, causing me to laugh hysterically all day! 

Tonight is For the Children

I've just spent the last hour reading all about the Tsunami victims and all of the children who are lost, wandering the disaster area in search of their mommies.

I'm just sick. I've tried not to mention it on my blog this last week, but there comes a time when my brain just over loads with emotion, and I can't find anything funny to write about or to even speak of. I am literally stricken with overwhelming empathy for these children.

I think of my own son being in that position. Lost, searching for me...scared and all alone. I just want to go there and scoop them all up, and somehow reassure them, that it will soon be ok. The problem with that idea is that it isn't ok now. And they need so much support and help that it boggles the senses.

There is currently a government block on all tsunami adoptions at the moment, based on the assumption that it is better to wait until the situation stabilizes, and all efforts to find extended family members have been exhausted. This assumption, that it is better to at least find a distant relative to raise these children, as opposed to totally uprooting them from their culture has merit I suppose, but how long will that take? One month? 6 months? A year?

In the meantime...who is holding the hands of those little ones. What will become of them during that period when they are forced to wait,...and search.

Life is very strange sometimes.
Very surreal.
I don't feel like writing much tonight so this is it for now.

I will follow in Flirt's example, and donate $1 for every comment left here on this blog post...and then some. It's the least I can do.

For Me?

The nicest thing happened to me today.
I was doing my daily reading of assorted blogs, when I came to Sharon's.
To my surprise, she had painted a mermaid for me and posted it on line! How cool is that? Not only is she talented enough to do such a thing, like randomly break out and paint a picture, but a dark haired mermaid to boot!

My fascination with mermaids started a few years back with a simple Christmas gift from my sister. It was a set of water color prints by a self taught artist named Robert Kline. Each print depicted a different mermaid from the journal entries of Sir Edmond Roberts, an 18th century British Sea Captain who spent his career searching for the mythological sea maidens. Each mermaid print came with the corresponding story describing how he first observed her in his travels.

And so a collection was born, and since doubled in size as all collections tend to do. Sharon's mermaid is extra special because she has long black hair, and brunettes are very rare indeed.

Mermaids are mysterious, graceful, elusive woman, capable of charming mere mortals with their wonderful singing and beauty. My collection has grown to include other prints, charms, photographs, and yes...dare I admit, the purple Fairy Topia Barbie Mermaid.

I just couldn't resist could I?....she was purple!

Please go by and visit Sharon and the mermaid. She's the best.

Flirt in a skirt

Good morning. Today's message is brought to you by....(looks around the empty room)... uh...me, I guess.

I apologize if this entry falls shy of the usual inspiration and wit you've grown accustomed to from my blog, as my brain is currently being fueled by last night's dinner of Doritos and sour cream. I suspect the recommended daily allowance of vitamins and minerals was not met with such a dinner, but it was never the less delicious. I did, however wash it down with a nutritious glass of cold strawberry milk. Everyone knows that milk is good for you...and strawberry flavoring is at least representative of the fruit group,...
so there.

I ran across a cute blog this morning that I want you all to go visit. She's a very cute Flirt, and I plan to live vicariously through her from here on out... remembering a time when I too was young and flirtatious. The good part is that she's not just a flirt, (lord knows there's enough of those out there to make me feel old) but she is also a good writer, and is doing a really nice thing for charity!

Now, before you stampede me over on your way through the door to go see the flirt...please at least say hi to let me know you were here or sign my guestmap.
You know how fragile my ego has become as of late.