Also, see the sweet kitty. . . . not so much. I can attest to that as well.

Being one on a Spring cleaning frenzy AND being one independent cuss, I set about rearranging some furniture a couple of weeks ago. Only I ran into one tiny problem. When you combine a fifty year old crazy woman who thinks she can move furniture up stairs by herself and a crazy ass cat who is determined to KILL said fifty year old crazy woman, you end up with an old lady at the bottom of the stairs on her back with furniture crushing her hand and the wind knocked out of her and cat nowhere to be found.

It was ALMOST mission accomplished for evil kitty, as I weebled and wobbled and came crashing down backward toward the ground.

My very first thought as I hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs was “Ouch! THAT’S gonna leave a mark!” I also learned that I am very calm in the midst of a crisis. As I lay there, I thought (because the furniture I was carrying had two glass shelves), “Well, you’ve cut your fingers off. Now what are going to do?” Very calm-like. Then I looked over and saw that they were indeed still attached and felt a flood of relief. Because my phone was in the other room and I didn’t want to bleed all over my house.

I whimpered a bit about my hurt feelings, crushed fingers and jacked up back, then I got up, dusted myself off, threatened seven of the crazy cat’s lives, and proceeded to take the furniture on up the dang stairs. I’m a determined sort. Then I laid down. And moaned. Alot!

Well, that was over two weeks ago. The jacked up back got better. It was just rough getting in and out of my Jeep for awhile. Most of my fingers got better over time. But one just never seemed to heal. Typing for more than 30 seconds was excrutiating, the swelling never went away, and after two weeks of the constant pain, I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke down and went to the doctor. It’s now official. My middle finger is broken at the knuckle. Nice. My back is fine though, nothing out of whack. I feel good about that. I can take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. Not bad for an old broad.

When I got home, Chris was at the house and upon seeing the splint, he asked if it was really broken. Then he exclaimed, “Wow mom!! You’re badass! Walking around with a broken finger for two weeks!!” No, I’m not really badass. I’ve complained about it hurting the whole time. Now he will know though that when I say that something hurts, it dang well H.U.R.T.S..

Anyway, off to see hand specialist tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m learning how to type with a missing middle finger. It’s taking some getting used to.

And the cat has resumed her mission to kill me. But I’ve got her number now.

A little precursor. . . I started blogging way back in the beginning of 2006 on MSN Spaces before branching off to my website here and long before I’d even heard of Facebook. Back in the day, I immediately met some really nice people from all walks of life, different ages, different countries even. It was enlightening and . . . well, FUN reading stories about lives, their cultures, their goals, their dreams. . . getting to know them. . . becoming real friends.

I’ve blogged about meeting my blog friends from Seattle (where I became an official member of the RahRahs). I’ve blogged about meeting my Southern Soul Sista from Pensacola. Now I’m blogging about my dear, sweet friend from South Africa. . . all the way on the other side of the world. I haven’t met her yet, but maybe one day.

Julz is a young lady (not much older than my oldest baby) who is SO incredibly full of life, energy, passion and talent. She’s absolutely infectious! She beams happiness! Loves her family and friends fiercely! She’s a straight-shooter with a fabulous sense of humor. AND has more (undiscovered) singing talent than a lot of the mainplayers on the radio today. I say “undiscovered”, but I should add YET. I have no doubt in this girl’s talent, her heart, her drive and her kindness. She’ll be big one day! I have faith.

Last week, I received a Christmas card from my dear friend, Julz from South Africa. She had mailed it before Thanksgiving in hopes of arriving by Christmas. But due to the postal service and their commitment to timely delivery **note sarcasm**, I received it three months later. But you know what? It didn’t matter! I ripped it open as if it were Christmas morning. . . so excited. A Christmas card from South Africa!

And she included this keychain. She said it’s made by South Africans and the proceeds go to the purification of water in rural Africa. See how her heart works?! It is such a special gift to me that I will treasure for many years.

Both of our blogs have suffered a great demise (I blame Facebook), but we still keep in touch. Thank goodness for Facebook and email.

I am so happy to have taken that brave step into the unknown blogworld five years ago. I would have never known this bright spirit that I call my South African friend. And I’d have one less star shining in my day. Thank you Julz!!

The North has coffee houses while the South has Waffle Houses.

The North has switchblade knives while the South has .45’s.

The North has double last names while the South has double first names.

The North has Cream of Wheat while the South has grits.

The North has green salads while the South has collard greens.

The North has lobsters while the South has crawfish.

For Northerners Moving South . . .

~~ If you run your car into a ditch, don’t panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly. Don’t try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.

~~ Don’t be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store. Do NOT buy food at this store.

~~ Remember, “Y’all” is singular, “all y’all” is plural, and “all y’all’s” is plural possessive.

~~ Get used to hearing ‘You ain’t from ’round here, are ya?’

~~ Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed later on how to use it.

~~ Don’t be worried at not understanding what people are saying. They can’t understand you either.

~~ The first Southern statement to creep into a transplanted Northerner’s vocabulary is the adjective “big’ol,” as in ‘big ol’ truck or big’ol boy. Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it.

~~ The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.

~~ Be advised that “He needed killin’.” is a valid defense in the South.

~~ If you hear a Southerner exclaim, “Hey, y’all watch this,” you should stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he’ll ever say.

~~ If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn’t matter whether you need anything or not. You just have to go there.

~~ Do not be surprised to find that 10-year olds own their own shotguns, they are proficient marksmen, and their mammas’ taught them how to aim.

~~ AND REMEMBER: If you do settle in the South and bear children, don’t think we will accept them as Southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven, we ain’t gonna call ‘em biscuits.

My sweet, sweet granddaughter, Kylee, turned three months old. She was bundled up to go out in the snow that day with her rosy cheeks.

My sweet, sweet youngest baby, Adam, at his 25th birthday party. Twenty-five, people!! I was 25 years old when I had HIM! And it wasn’t THAT long ago either!!!! I still remember a neighbor when we lived in San Diego who had two teenagers say to me when my babies were just about two and three years old, “Treasure this age now because it’ll be gone in a flash.” My neighbor KNEW of which she spoke, let me tell you. But at the time, I was so busy chasing them through the yard trying to wrangle them into the house, sort of like herding cats, that I brushed her comment off like she was just talking to make conversation. Then I blinked a couple of times and my babies were grown. How did she DO that?

We held Adam’s birthday party at his dad’s house where Kylee was subsequently kidnapped by her grandpa. I think he’d honestly keep her forever if Adam wouldn’t fight him for her. He wasn’t even THAT smitten with his own babies when they were babies. It must be a girl thing. And Kylee doesn’t even know it yet, the power she has with her grandpa, because this little girl has him completely wrapped around her finger.

This past weekend (still January), the sun actually came out. It was so shocking and so joyous that even though it was still only 40 degrees, Chris and I went outside to enjoy the rays. We did what we do. . . take pictures. (Only he’s really good at it. I’m just the sidekick trying to learn from the master.)

We went down to the beach where we successfully froze our buns OFF. Chris was multi-tasking and geocaching at the same time. There was one hidden in Mr. Neptune there.

So we had to brave the bitter wind to go find it. I think Mr. Neptune needs a shirt on. It was brutal cold.

Then we drove over to First Landing State Park. There were more geocaches there. I tagged along taking pictures of where I want to build my house. I want to clear out that spot behind that tree and plop me a little bungalow right on the water. It was so beautiful in that spot. I’m going to go back when it’s not freezing ass cold so I can REALLY enjoy the view.

Parallel to the beach was this trail. I love trails. I have to add that to my list. I have a thing about trees. I already knew that, but dang if I don’t love trails too. This one was covered with hanging moss. It was very cool.

Then it was over to Fort Story to see the lighthouses. We had our little jaunt with lighthouses over this past summer traveling to North Carolina and up to the Eastern Shore, but kept bypassing these two little gems right in our backyard.

This is the new one that was built to replace the old one above it. Now the old one is open to tourists. Chris climbed it to take pictures from the top. We only had enough cash on us for one of us go up, so I gladly stayed behind in the gift shop chatting with the old guy that runs the place. We’d already walked about 4 trillion miles that day. . . I didn’t want to push my luck with TOOOO much exercise. My body would go into shock and shut down.

When Chris came down, he said, “Owh, my legs hurt! You’d have died, mom. You’d have never made it!” I told him that HIS grandmother, MY mother, climbed it just a couple of years ago when her brother came for a visit. He refused to believe me (but she did) because in his eyes. . . she’s OLD!!!!! (she’s 69 – not 109, for goodness sake!)

Anyway, there it is. January. It WAS here, but I swear it was like the wind. Swoosh and gone! I guess I’m going to have to keep taking pictures. That seems to be the proof I need that someone’s not playing tricks with the calendar. Let’s see if February slows down a little bit so I can wrap my brain around it. Geez.

For my birthday (my 50th birthday), my sister tried to think of something special to give me that would be like nothing I’d ever had/experienced before. I sat there nervously as I opened the birthday card and was thinking how I’d never been on a cruise before – wheee. That would be a cool surprise. I thought my Kitchen Aid standup mixer would never fit in this envelope. I thought, “I sure hope she’s not talking about a tattoo.” (I’d probably bleed to death) A lot of thoughts ran through my head before I got to the inside of the card.

Inside was a certificate for a Spa Day for the two of us for the next day, Christmas Eve. This Spa Day was to include an hour in their Spa Capsule with a detoxifying full body steam and exfoliating body scrub, followed by a refreshing vichy shower. Then 90 minutes relaxing with a Swedish Massage. AND that’s not all. Then a spa pedicure. And afterward, lunch would be served.

I can hear the masses, green with envy, oohing and aahing in delight at what a wonderful idea that was. I know. There are many people out there that LOVE to be pampered and froo-froo’ed (that’s my word). Me? I’m a different animal.

While I do love my sister and I DO appreciate her thoughtfulness, I have to apologize to her for being a “simple” sister. One who isn’t accustomed to anything froo-froo past straightening my hair (and I don’t even do THAT every day) and a little lipstick. And one certainly not used to being pampered. I’ve been a single mom to two boys for 20 years. There was no froo-froo in my house and certainly no one there to pamper me. I’m quite accustomed to that and quite okay with it as well. So the thought of being pampered left me sitting there a bit . . . . frightened.

Yes, I was frightened of my Spa Day. As well I should have been. You see. . . I know me. I know my comfort zone.

And this Spa Capsule (as it turns out) is not on my Comfort Zone Safety List. Not even close.

After assuring me that everything would be WONDERFUUULLL and that I would just LOOOVVVE it (said in singsong voice), I agreed to go. After all, it was Christmas Eve and I HAD been pretty stressed trying to pull together a festive holiday for the family. Plus, I didn’t want to hurt the sister’s feelings.

First off, they had us fill out a pretty standard form while sitting in this quiet, peaceful room with the zen music chinging in the background. The form asked “What do you look forward to the most in your spa experience today?” I wrote, “Putting my clothes back on.” Sister couldn’t believe that I would really write that. Does she KNOW me?

Well, off we went to get naked. **cringing** We put our little bathrobes on. **not attractive** Then they took us to separate rooms where we were each introduced to our own little capsule. I looked at it, puzzled, thinking, “HOW does this thing work?” I had envisioned the capsule to be like a mini-sauna or a mini-jacuzzi. . . . I was w.r.o.n.g.!

The girl began to explain how it worked and what I was to do. O-O!! What? I had to disrobe **cringing** while she held my robe over her eyes (thank God!) and climb into this contraption. There was a small towel to wrap over my lady bits like a diaper and another small towel to drape over “the girls”. (I was wondering if they had a bigger towel) She would then close the lid. That’s when it started to feel sauna-like, steam followed by a warm shower. Then she lifted the lid (Yikes!) and began the body scrub. (I’d already taken a bath before I left the house, and thank goodness I shaved my legs). She closed the lid and then the misty shower started up again. In the meantime, I was thinking “WHO applies for this job? Who wakes up and says I want to give strange people baths everyday?” I felt bad that the poor girl felt like she had to resort to this. [Later I found out that people actually go to school for this shit - really?]

I can’t even describe what it was like exiting said capsule all slippery and awkward. Let’s just say that this poor girl saw more of me than she signed up for. I may be getting a bill in the mail for her therapy soon.

I’m sure I’ve missed parts in describing my “experience” because I was actually too busy humming my way through it, chanting and singing “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” just waiting for my “experience” to be over.

I managed to live through it and I DID come out with silky soft skin, but I will NEVER EVER again go NEAR anything that remotely looks like a capsule again. My dreams of going to the moon are SHOT!

Next was the massage. Ninety minutes of massage. Although I was still naked, it was less torturous and slightly less uncomfortable. My mind was no longer humming and chanting to itself (thank goodness). When the massage was over, the sister asked me in her same singsong voice, “Well, did you relaaxxx?” I said, “No, but I DID manage to figure out how I was going to schedule getting Christmas dinner on the table.” I can’t turn this brain off. . . ever.

With that being over, I was allowed to finally reconnect with my clothes. Yay! Hello pants! Hello shirt! And off we went to get the pedicure. I was bubbly by this point purely because I finally got my clothes on.

We got a nice pedicure and I sat in a little vibrating chair because, of course, I needed MORE massage.

Then they had a nice lunch waiting for us of soup and sandwich in this little room with the funky table. Yes, it looks like a tree.

Overall, I was just glad it was over. I was glad to say that I’ve experienced a massage before. I can strike that off my bucket list. But more now than ever I know that I already have the ticket to relaxing. . . it’s called Miller Lite. And it’s a heck of a lot cheaper.

Thank you, sister, for a birthday I will never forget!!

2010 was a pretty big year. I can’t complain.

I became a grandma for the first time with my granddaughter Kylee joining our family. After having had two boys, I look forward to a little “girl time”.

I met my blog friend, Momma (my Southern Soul Sista), for the first time as all of her biggest supporters congregated in Florida to watch her graduate from Nursing school. So proud!

I won the SuperBowl of Fantasy Football!! Whoohoooo! “Miss, I don’t know nothin’ about football”, as my brother-in-law (Gridiron Animals) snarkily lovingly calls me, turned out to be a quick study after losing my first game. I HAD to figure out how this Fantasy Football stuff worked. One thing I’ve learned from my ex-husband’s family is competitiveness. If you don’t fight to win, they will take you down and then bury you. (It’s a well documented family fact) Gosh, it was fun! Now that it’s over, watching football just isn’t the same.

I experienced my first Spa Day EVER in my life. Let’s just say that that’s a whole different blog post in and of itself. More later.

I had my first White-Day-After-Christmas in my whole life. It was really something. I’ve never seen so much snow being the Mississippi girl. A dusting would thrill us, but this stuff just about buried us. My poor Jeep had a chat with me letting me know that he disapproved.

My Jeep let me know in no uncertain terms that it was a SUMMER vehicle meant strictly to be driven with the top down on sandy beaches, not this white stuff. It did really well in the snow despite all of its disdain.

My sister was here visiting for Christmas and got to enjoy (not her first) White-Day-After-Christmas. I think she was having fun until they canceled her flight home stranding her here for four more days.

So she made a friend. She called him Vince. I can’t say as I’ve ever had a snowman in my front yard.

AND I hit 50 years old! A half a century! THAT sure happened fast!! It’s only been a hot minute since my 30th birthday which I remember vividly. I still FEEL like I’m thirty. I just don’t look at what Mother Nature has done to me. I bounce right through life with my happy little blinders on and live life from the inside out, not the outside in. That’s what I tell myself as I avert my eyes from every mirror in the house.

So all in all, I can declare that after 2010, I am now a 50 year old SuperBowl winning, first-time Grandma who enjoyed a white day after Christmas and her first spa day ever. I can’t wait to see what happens in 2011. Bring it!

Whalah!! Yesterday on Southern Plate’s site, I found these little gems and just HAD to make them. I already had a jillion and two things on my To-Do list to get ready for Christmas. I already had made enough Christmas candy to choke a small horse. I’d already given away pounds of candy to coworkers who are threatening bodily harm if I make them gain one more pound. But I made them anyway. And I am SO excited by these little nuggets that I have to share.

If you are EVER in need of a quick and easy (and I DO stress E.A.S.Y.), this is a go-to recipe. This is a great recipe for even kids to make. It’s THAT easy.

Here’s all you need.

EASY TURTLE CANDIES

1 bag Pretzels (square weave ones)
1 bag Rolos
1 bag Pecan halves

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. On a plain cookie sheet, line up your pretzels. Unwrap the Rolos and place one on top of each pretzel. Repeat until you run out of Rolos or room on your cookie sheet. Put in the oven for three minutes. Remove, then press a pecan half into the top of each one. Let cool until hardened again.

That’s it. The hardest part is unwrapping all the Rolos without eating them. Lucky for me, the glass of wine I had doesn’t go so well with Rolos, so they were safe to make it to the pretzels. Just a heads up though, it does take a little while for them to harden again once they’re assembled, so if you’re in a hurry, you may want to put them in the refrigerator. Other than that, you’re done and they’re ready for a dessert tray, or a gift basket, or your belly.

I remember complaining about the weather to a preschool mom one morning shortly after moving here, and she, being a native of the area, said, “Stick around 15 minutes, it will change.” I didn’t get it back then, but I sure do now. She spoke the truth.

As is the case as of late. . . We’ve had a cold day here and there this Fall, but nothing with any regularity. I remember the day after Thanksgiving, it was 70 degrees and I was melting in my sweatshirt which I thought was appropriate for the end of November. I was wrong!

My flowers were confused because they thought Spring was here already. They were poking their heads up out from under the Fall leaves.

Then the next week, it snowed. Dazed and confused, my Gerber daisy spoke to me, “What say you is this freezing white concoction?” I apologized to my daisies, but not before stopping to take a picture. I apologized again.

Now I sit in my house bundled in my sweats and soft, cozy socks looking out through the frigid glass longing for the days in the warmth of the sun.

Dear Winter, If you’d care to make a quick exit, I wouldn’t be mad at you. Just sayin’.

It was a very nice trail that wound around a lake. I’d driven past this lake for the past 15 years and never once had I figured out how to get to it. Chris had been taking photos at this lake as long as he’s owned a camera. It’s one of his favorite places to go. I just had no idea that it was so close to my house. Note to self: Get out more!

If you’ve ever read anything I’ve written, you already know my love for the sun and the water.

But I also have another fetish. . .trees. . . don’t ask because I have no idea. But I found that I was in paradise here.

I truly have this thing about trees. Love them!! A single tree in a pasture, a row of trees on a walkway, a cluster of trees bursting with color. . . L.O.V.E. them!!

Now that I’ve acquainted myself with this park, I’d like to come back and take the same photos from the same spots in each season. Must mark that on my To-Do List.

Do these colors not just scream Thanksgiving? I hope you all have a very lovely day tomorrow full of love, family and thanks.