If you know me, I’m quite sure that you are deathly ill of hearing me talk about the old girl.  Slowly, but surely, she is falling apart—one small piece at a time.  Since 2001, I have been driving a 1998 Buick Century, which we gratefully inherited from GR’s aunt.  I was 31 years old at the time I started driving it—way too young to be driving such a grandmotherly car.

At the time we took possession of the car, I was driving a newly purchased 2000 Honda Accord that I cherished, adored, and swooned over.  Because we didn’t really have a need to keep both cars, our options were to either sell the Buick (which only had 19K miles at the time…practically new!), go on a fabulous vacation, and continue making payments on the Honda, or sell the Honda, take a minor hit on the balance, and be car payment free.  Obviously, we chose to sell the cherished, adored, and swooned over one.  And then I cried and started sprouting grey hairs.  My carefree days of cruising down the road with the sunroof open and stereo blasting were over.  At the age of 31, Lulu turned very old, very quickly.  I even started listening to AM radio, which I have found that I am quite fond of.

Fast forward almost 10 years, and the Buick is still running strong.  Granted, there have been minor issues along the way (not including the increase of Lulu’s grey hairs)…

• There are no longer cup holders in the car.  They were flimsy, flip-over holders to begin with, and they have all been broken off.  Therefore, I have cola and coffee stains all over the floor carpet.
• Windshield wipers fly off randomly.  Usually when it rains.
• Hubcaps fly off randomly.  I have replaced all four hubcaps at one time or another.  Hence, the car has been dubbed the Ghetto Granny Mobile.  Yesterday, I had the brake pads and rotors replaced, and the technician was unsure if he could put the hubcaps back on due to the disintegrating plastic screws that hold them on to the wheel.  I lost one today, as you might have noticed in the picture above.
• My heater no longer works.  Thank goodness for warmer weather.
• The back driver-side window motor no longer works, causing the window to continuously slip down slightly.  At one point, GR duct-taped the window so it would stay up, but he duct-taped it on the outside of the window—adding to the appeal of the ghetto-ness of it all.  I made him remove the tape.  I’ve actually replaced the front window motor myself with instructions found on the internet, but Lulu has been too lazy to fix the back one…plus do I really want to spend $100 for the part?  I think not.  I have my eye on a bottle of Chanel Chance.
• One of the buttons on the thermostat control has broken off due to my continued adjusting of the temperature.  One minute Lulu is hot, one minute she is cold.  A sunroof could quite possibly remedy that situation.
• At one point, there was a leak causing water to flood my passenger-side floorboard when it rained.  I’m surprised that there’s not a hole rusted into the bottom of the car—similar to a sunroof but without the benefits.

See?  Minor issues, right?  I am currently 2K miles away from hitting the 200K mark.  That, y’all, is an accomplishment.  And now, I am contemplating the idea of putting the old girl out to pasture.  I turn 40 this year, and I have sworn that I will not go into my middle-ish-age years driving an old woman car.  Isn’t it about time for my mid-life crises to hit?  Shouldn’t I be driving this…

Sigh.  Actually, it will most likely be this…

At least it has hubcaps.

Gosh, it’s been like forever and a day since I’ve done a Saturday Photo Hunt.  Yet, here I am, all caught up in it again.  For those of you who don’t know what the Saturday Photo Hunt is, just go here.  TN Chick will explain.  Basically, you post a picture each Saturday related to a theme that TN Chick picks.  Easy-peasy.

Today’s theme is spiral.  Not so easy-peasy.  At first, I thought about posting a picture of myself with a spiral perm…but then I thought better.  I’ve already taken you on Lulu’s journey of bad hair once before.  There is no need to subject you to that again.  It ain’t pretty, and I do not want to relive it.  Hence, my post involves the “somewhat” of a spiraling staircase that GR and I climbed at Amicalola Falls this past fall.

It all starts here…at the beginning of the beautiful Appalachian Trail.

After a short trek on the trail, you end up here—at this warning sign.

And then, much like my husband the health nut, you must fill your lungs with tobacco smoke and toxins to help with the strenuous walk up the 425 spiraling stairs…

And once you’ve hacked and coughed your way up the stairs…

You can take in these glorious views…

I can’t wait to go back in the spring!  Have a great Saturday, y’all!

Side note:  For those of you who truly, madly, deeply care about Lulu and have discovered that some of my past posts no longer show pictures, please note that I am still working on uploading those lost photos.  It’s a tragedy on a grand scale, but I am determined to win the battle.  Thank you.

You see, I have been working at home for the past six months.  Count them, six torturous months.  The office building where I make a 72-mile round-trip trek to every weekday was heavily damaged during the Great Georgia Flood of 2009.  And to be honest, the damage wasn’t actually caused by the September flooding, but it sounds way more exciting than what actually happened.  We had a water pipe burst causing two inches of water to run amok and flow freely throughout the building.  Lives were not lost, people, but my soul has been deeply wounded.  I have turned into a depressed, hermitized, gluttonous, unhygienic, socially unacceptable, empty shell of a person.  Sad examples:

• On several occasions, I have spent two straight days in a row never changing out of my pajamas—much to GR’s chagrin.
• Some weeks, I never left the house.  God forbid, that would be cause for me to take a shower and apply makeup.  And to change out of pajamas.
• When I do actually get out, it’s generally to the bank drive-through or Wal-Mart.  Two places where it really doesn’t matter if you wear pajamas.  In fact, it’s fairly acceptable.
• The pantry has become my safe-haven of love and support.  Hence, the extra 6 or 7 pounds I have put on.
• I have fallen in love with Drew Carey.  And possibly Judge Judy.
• I spend time at my mailbox of hate waiting on the mail lady to stop by just so I can have someone to talk to.  Some days, I think that she skips my house on purpose.  I can’t understand why.
• I have actual conversations with GR.

Quite obviously, I am not a work-at-home kind of person.  Left to my own vices, I could easily turn into the 1-ton, recluse woman who has to be crane-lifted from her home.  It’s entirely possible, y’all.

I am also severely depressed about the state of my home office.  I have no “before” picture, but let me assure you, it does not look like this:

I cringe at the mere sight of it.  A home office that actually looks like it’s used as a home office.  I am appalled.

Alas, there is good news on the horizon.  On Monday, March 22, Lulu will be freed from this prison.  I will be returning here:

And I will be burning my pajamas.  Unfortunately, they don’t exactly pass the dress code.

For this shower, we planned a cowboy theme.  Because nothing says cute, cuddly, and baby like this…

Why, hello there Mr. Cowboy!  Unfortunately, he was not in attendance, as I am quite sure he was performing at an entirely different kind of party.  The kind of party that only exists in Lulu’s incredibly shrinking brain.  But I digress.  Our party involved this type of cute and cuddly cowboy…

Which I incorporated into the shower invitations…

I also painstakingly rubber-banded 96 tiny, newborn-size diapers in order to create this cowboy-themed diaper cake.  I’m pretty sure that I’ve lost all feeling in my right index finger and came dangerously close to snapping out an eyeball.  Don’t try this at home, people.

I made Cowboy Cookies for take-aways, which were AMAZINGLY delicious if I say so myself!  The Girl Scout cookies that are camped out in my spare bedroom ain’t got nothin’ on these babies.  Or is that the other way around?  Regardless, the recipe is apparently Laura Bush’s recipe, as posted by Helen over at Cowgirl Cuisine.  For an extra touch, I stuck them on 7″ cookie sticks (while they were still hot), decorated them with chocolate icing, wrapped them in cellophane, tied them up with matching ribbons, and yee-haw!  Cowboy cookies in a basket.

I’m thinking that I could use this idea in the future for a cookie bouquet, no?  Cute, snappy, fun.  Much like Lulu in her twenties.

And we displayed it all on a table covered with a white table cloth topped with a vase of white daisies and cowboy confetti…

Because Lulu is such a control freak and abnormally OCD about party details, I convinced Tiff (my hairdresser, dear friend, cousin’s wife, and cohort in this shower) to color-coordinate the food.  Which she did.

There was actually more food, but I’m quite sure I was spazzed out about a napkin being misaligned and forgot to take a picture.

The cake was made by a young friend of Tiff’s who is just learning pastry techniques and methods.  It was magically delicious, and I think that she did a wonderful job!

It turned out to be a beautiful shower with a fun theme.  And much to my chagrin, not a cookie was spared.  Like Lulu needs another freaking cookie…

I’m trying to keep the door closed and wish them away, but it doesn’t seem to be working. They continue to taunt me from the other side of the door. Especially the Do-si-dos. They are evil.

I’ve taken a year, a full freaking year, off from blogging only to come back and find that my web hosting had expired and that my blog was completely obliterated from the internets. Gone. Sayonara.  Over two years of my life wasted.  And then, I cried.  I cried buckets. 

And then, I found a blog database backup file buried deep within a folder on my hard drive labeled “Recipes.”  So, I cried more. 

And then, I called on Leanne at Intricate Art (the original designer of my blog) who said that she could get me up and running again if I sent her my first born child.  So, I did.  And I cried more.

And lo and behold, I am here again.  Back on the internets, minus a whole bunch of pictures that I have to re-upload and reinsert into the correct posts, which will take me the equivalent of eighteen million years and more buckets of tears.  But Lulu is determined.

I have missed you.

I took this picture today of a blossom on our Okame Cherry tree.  A blossom!  On a cherry tree!  In February!  It’s hard to contain the excitement, people.

I must also boast about the fact that it was 70 degrees today here in Georgia—meaning that it was way too nice to be cooped up inside the house watching reruns of Leave it to Beaver.  Not that I would do that or anything, but there is a LITB marathon on TV Land at the moment and GR is deeply engrossed.  Anyhow, it was so beautiful outside that I took some time to throw the tennis ball to my poor, deprived brat-dog, Bindi…

Oh, that Bindi Sue.  She’s a dear.  And poor Billy Ray, he just sat perched on the deck watching the action below.

Oh, that Billy Ray.  He’s a fun-loving thing…as long as the fun-loving involves a treat and a nap.  Or reading Meghan’s blog, A Mom of Two Boys…

Anyhow, I’m sure that the fates are laughing at me right now, and Georgia will end up with a foot of snow at some point in March.  Oh, well.  At least I had today…

Let’s move on.  As some of you might know, I have a mild obsession with junk collectibles.  And if you’re so inclined, you can read about some of my collections here, here, and here.  If you’re so inclined.  And if you have a spare bottle of wine to wash it all down with.   

So in keeping with tradition, I’ve delegated today’s Thursday Thirteen to showcase my vintage tin can collection that perches on top of my kitchen cabinets.  Maybe showcase is too strong of a word.  It’s far from a Ming Dynasty vase collection.  Hell, it’s far from a dimestore vase collection.  These are tin cans, people!  Am I yelling?  I don’t mean to yell.

Without further ado, here is my showcase.  Of tin.

1.  I believe that chips in a large can were (maybe are?) a northern U.S. kind of thing.  Someone please fill Lulu in.

2.  I’ve never heard of this brand–Homfresh.  I tried doing a Google search, but no luck.  Anyone ever heard of these chips?  The tin is pretty old.

3.  More chips in a can.  Not familiar with this brand either…

4.  This Red Star baking powder can started my entire collection.  I’m assuming this is restaurant size, because I’ve used the same, tiny red can of baking powder for years now and have hardly made a dent.  That reminds me, does baking powder expire?  Ew.

5.  I can eat an entire mountain of Cracker Jacks.  No, really!

6.  I seriously love the fact that you could once buy marshmallows in a can.

7.  Wheat Thins, kind of like a cracker, but more like a snack…

8.  Along with Ginger Ale, the savior of all hang-overs, morning sickness, and the stomach flu…

9.  I love to eat Ritz crackers slathered with cream cheese and jelly.  On a daily basis.

10.  Milk-Bone® is celebrating their 100th anniversary this year…

11.  Mmm…candies.

12.  This tin is not vintage, but the colors really matched my kitchen.

13.  This one is not a tin, but it sits on top of my cabinets alongside the others.  This was my grandmother’s sifter…

There you have it.  Lulu’s Showcase of Tins.

IMPORTANT SUCKY NOTE:  After I labored over and wrote this post, I found out that the Thursday Thirteen meme no longer exists.  Serves me right for staying out of the blogging loop for so long… 

Well, that’s fine.  Lulu is not one to get her feelings hurt very easily.  In fact, Lulu is tough as nails, and has decided to reenter the blogging world because I decided that I was totally missing something in my life…and I decided that that something was writing about the inane things that go on in my life.  Plus, I believe that I’ve got early on-set of Alzheimer’s and unless I record the things that I do and my feelings, I will completely forget who I was, or am, or whatever.

Anyhow, if you care, Lulu is back.  That’s a promise, not a warning, people.

Anyhow, I should have posted this for my Thursday Thirteen last week, but I didn’t really think about it until I read Blondie’s post about her ornaments.  Blondie is a flight attendant, so she’s got some pretty cool destination bobbles hanging from her tree.  And I’ve got a similar type of theme going for mine…I try to bring back an ornament from the places where I travel.

So, in no particular order, Lulu presents her tree…

King Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn (with her head intact), and their daughter, Elizabeth I.  I brought these back from my first trip to London in 2005…

 Aruba is a Dutch country, hence the Dutch-blue color…

Unfortunately, my globe from Paris broke enroute on the plane home, but I tried to salvage as much as I could…

A pineapple from Maui…mmm…

A paper Hawaiian girl from Kauai…

A souvenir from The Sound of Music Tour in Austria…

A decorated palm tree from Charleston, South Carolina…

A wooden ornament from the beautiful Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, Arizona…

A Navajo-inspired ornament from Albuquerque, New Mexico (this one belonged to GR’s sister who passed away in 2001)…

A beer hall waiter from Germany…Prost!

A wooden ornament with a scene from Lake Konigssee, Germany…

A painted sand dollar from Clearwater Beach, Florida.  I bought this in 1994—the year my mother moved to the area.

And finally, I tried to hang Gus from the tree, but this is as close as I got.  The hook was a little too thin to hold him up…