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…

And speaking of the holidays, I have to admit that this year my heart has grown three sizes, and I’m actually enjoying the holiday season!  However, I find it nearly impossible to get through Christmas without being just a tiny bit Grinchy, so I must convey my yearly gift-exchange rant.  Lulu likes to put a damper on all the fun.  I promise to do it quickly and move on.  Scroll down if you can’t bear to read it.

<Begin rant> 

GR and I made the decision this year that the gift-exchanging between our families at Christmas had to stop.  To me, I see exchanging gifts as merely an exchange of money.  I spend $50 on you, you spend $50 on me.  I have a very difficult time in seeing the point of it all.  I am by no means a stingy person, but it makes me wonder if going into debt to buy gifts for people really has anything to do with what Christmas is all about.  I think not.

However, Lulu has rules.  And exceptions.  For instance, I do make exceptions for token gifts, such as chocolates or small lotions, soaps, hand-towels, and other whatnots.  Handmade items and homemade goodies are also especially nice and treasured.  I also make exceptions for buying gifts for my son and 10-year old niece.  I also have a rule to not exchange presents with GR; except for that rule was obviously thrown out the window by GR, because I see several gifts under the tree with my name on them.  I guess I won’t complain. 

<End rant>

Anyhow, because I do not have to suffer through the stress of spending my life-savings this year on Christmas gifts, Lulu is feeling so much more Christmas-sy!  In fact, I actually put up and decorated my tree this year, and I made Christmas cookies…all while listening to Christmas music!  Someone fan me, quick!  I might have to lie down.

Earlier this week, my friend, T-Nut, and her little Bella-girl came over, and we had a grand time sprinkling my kitchen floor with red- and green-colored sugar.

We made a mountain of sugar cookies:

We made thumbprint cookies filled with the one, single jar of German currant jelly that actually made it through customs:

And we made delicious pretzel/Rolo/pecan thingies:

Next week, I’m embarking on baking these gingerbread loaves topped with a lemon-flavored icing, pecans, and crystallized ginger to give away as gifts to my special peeps (recipe from Better Homes and Gardens):

Mmm…gingerbread.  Reminds me of Germany.

I hope that you all have a very Merry Christmas!  I’ll be back next Friday with Pink Pig tales (or tails, as it may be) and other delightful holiday stories!  Happy Holidays!  Try not to miss me too much.  As if…

I’ve come to the conclusion that scrapbooking is something that I could do even if I were lying at death’s door.  It’s quite rehabilitating, you know.  You just sit, and cut, and think a little bit, and be creative.  No real exertion is involved—unless you count peeling the backs off the adhesive mounting squares.  If there were such a job as Professional Scrapbooker, I would gladly apply.

Or even better, Professional Coloring Book Color-er…

The right-brained Lulu honing her mad skillz, circa 1977.  Pre-freckles.

I made some new assessments about Nanny while on this trip.  She is definitely getting older, and she is definitely getting more and more ornery.  In fact, she’s starting to remind me a little bit of this woman, scowl and all:

Now don’t get me wrong.  My grandmother is a very caring and generous woman.  She would give you the shirt off her back if her back didn’t hurt her so much.  But let me just warn you, if you are a waiter or waitress, and you don’t give her piping hot coffee or butter for her bread, she’ll turn on you like a rabid beast.  Case in point:

On our drive back from Florida, I was so sleepy and was desperate for a double-espresso latte from Starbucks.  Now, my grandmother is from the old school of coffee (Maxwell House, Folgers, etc.), and she won’t have anything to do with what she calls the “stinky” coffee that Starbucks serves.  So, I knew that I was setting myself up for something big when I pulled off the expressway to order my latte.

We decided to go into the shop to use the restroom and sit for a minute while I waited on my drink.  My grandmother used the restroom first, and I went in after her.  When I stepped out of the restroom, I find Nanny yelling (because she is deaf and thinks everyone else is, too) at the male barista behind the counter.  I walked up to the counter, and here is what went down.

Nanny (to me in her loud, ornery voice): He said that they have decaf coffee and it’s not the smelly kind.  I think I’ll order a cup.

Me (in my loud voice so that she and everyone in the shop can hear): Nanny, you told me that you’ve ordered coffee from here before and you don’t like it.

Nanny: Well, he said it wasn’t the stinky kind!

Me: I know, but I really don’t think you’ll like it.  It’s a bit different from what you’re used to.

Nanny: Well, order me a cup anyway.

So, I place the order.  The barista hands Nanny the cup of coffee, and I walk over to the other side of the counter to wait for my latte.  When I turned around, I caught her out of the corner of my eye taking a sip of her coffee.  People?  See that picture up there of Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies?  That’s exactly how Nanny looked when she pulled the coffee cup away from her mouth.  Then, she took another sip.  Same look.

Three people are now in line, and one person is ordering.  Nanny marches up to the counter, completely interrupting the person ordering their coffee, and says loudly and with a scowl:

Nanny: Is this coffee fresh?

Barista: Yes, ma’am. It’s fresh.

Nanny: Well, it don’t taste fresh to me!  (She takes another sip.)  Blech!

Barista: I can make another pot, ma’am.

Nanny: Ah, shhht.  We don’t got no time!

She then proceeds to make her way to the trash can, takes one more sip, and throws it away while scowling and saying “shhht!” again.  Thankfully, I am far away from the scene and hidden from her sight.  When we get back into the car, she starts again.

Nanny: Is your coffee fresh?  Mine wasn’t!  Bleh, bleh, bleh!  I need a piece of gum.

Me: Nanny, I told you that you wouldn’t like it.

Nanny: Well, he told me it wasn’t the stinky kind!  I don’t think he knows what he was ‘a talkin’ about.

My dear, dear grandmother.  You just can’t take her anywhere.