Day 6: Ricotta Orange Pound Cake

I was excited to try this recipe. Why??? One - it was so pretty in the magazine; Two - I love ricotta cheese; Three - it seemed like a non-traditional holiday recipe.

I can sum this recipe up in six statements (in honor of day 6):

1. Super easy
2. Super alternative to a chocolate dessert
3. Super moist
4. Loads of flavor (orange and ricotta)
5. Let's be frank - I will make this again
6. Last, but not least - I didn't jack it up!!!

Short, but sweet.

Day 5: Pressed Honey Cookies

Everyone sing along...."On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me.....Pressed Hon-ey Cookies." This is a very simple and the only thing that I had a little problem with was the ceramic press. I was excited to use the press since I bought it in 1994 (it had the date on the back) and I had never used it. Alright, alright - I know that I should probably go through my baking utensils more often, but tell me you don't have things in your cabinets that you have never used. That's what I thought. Dough made, ceramic press oiled and floured - ready for use. Make dough balls and flatten into the press. You have to really press to get the design to impress on the dough. Oh and - you need to flour your palm liberally or the dough will lift when trying to press more than once and you will have a two-headed sheep or pigs like I did (I used a farm press with a pig, sheep, calf and a goose). I re-rolled the dough on two-headed animals so if wouldn't look like I was trying to create Dr. Frankenstein cookies. However, on a side note, when I was in grade school we took a field trip up to the K-State campus and I did see a taxidermy two-headed calf and a two headed snake....not sure that they still have it anymore.

I think if I try to make pressed cookies again, I would like to find some of the antique cookies presses that I have seen as most of them appear to have rounded lips versus squares edges that mine has. I think that would make it little easier to get the raw cookie out of the press and onto the cookie sheet. Another side note - I watched a TV program on the origins of gingerbread and in Elizabethan times, master bakers would press the cookies/bars after they were baked, but still warm. Thinking that is even easier......I may have to try that technique.

Easy recipe, tastes great, but as glamorous as five golden rings (if you sing the song correctly). Unless I dust them with edible gold dust next time....hhhmmmm....now that's a thought.

Day 4: Chocolate Mousse Torte

You learn from an early age; if at first you don't succeed.....try again. Which is exactly what I had to do with this recipe. I have absolutely no idea what I did when I first tried to make this torte, but the filling was so runny that it was like soup. So I decided to add the sugar and cream cheese to my chocolate soup which only ended being chocolate soup with clumps of cream cheese (which looked like vomited curdled cheese). Doesn't that sound yummy?!?!? Down the sink goes the soup. I am guessing at this point I might have done something wrong so back to the recipe I go to.... READ IT. After re-reading the recipe, I thought to myself, "Good Lord, Donna - did you even read the recipe the first time?" I totally screwed it up the first time. I mixed everything in one bowl and used too much milk.

Round Two. Pudding with milk, beat for 2 minutes until thick; add melted chocolate and stir in whipped cream. Check. Cream cheese, sugar, milk, mix together in different bowl. Check. Fold in another cup whipped cream. Check. No chocolate soup with vomit clumps this time...insert short cheer here (yeah). Cover with more whipped cream and into fridge for 3 hours to chill.

Before I knew it 3 hours had passed. The moment of truth....inverting the torte out onto a serving plate. Drum roll please. Sweet success. I top the torte with shaved chocolate and have the inaugural piece. How sum up the torte??? It is Chocolately (not a real word, but perfect to describe) good.

No else partook of the torte, but when I woke up this morning a 1/4 of the torte had been eaten. Remember the guy who said that he couldn't eat more than one whoopie pie??? He got hungry after working out last night and had some torte. I am guessing he likes this recipe. Of course that's just a guess and I might be wrong, but I doubt it. Insert wink here.

Day 3: Red Velvet Whoopie Pies

Day 3 I made Red Velvet Whoopie Pies or better known as Red Velvet "Whoop-My-Ass" Pies. I had heard of whoopie pies - I guess they are all the craze these days. I had never eaten one and of course, in true Donna style, I didn't really review the recipe before I started and this recipe. It ended my kickin' my backside....it made 48 pies. Do you know how time consuming it is to bake 96 tops and/or bottoms, let them cool and then assemble??? Well let me tell you - I started at 2:30 pm, left to go to a middle school theatre production at 6:45 pm...still not done and came home at 8ish to finally finish at 8:45 pm. I had red velvet cake halves everywhere in my kitchen. Oh wait, before I had finished cake pieces everywhere - I had red food coloring everywhere (and still do). The recipe said to mix in the food coloring so I assumed I could continue using the electric mixer. Nope - I assumed wrong.....that dang red food coloring went up, down and side to side as soon as I hit the power. I think the only place it didn't land was the ceiling. Note to food editors: when telling the baker to use food coloring (otherwise known as DYE), tell the us to hand stir it in. This would have saved my dishwasher and microwave from being light red and white polka dots.

Warning to whoopie pie consumers, the filling is sweet. Any filling that has sugar, shortening, a stick of butter, milk, vanilla, and flour in it - is going to guarantee you a sugar rush higher than the Rocky Mountains. Pies filled and assembled, I offered the finished product to the family. Success. Kids love them and Chris said, "These are really sweet. Not sure how many I could eat." I thought to myself, "oh really?!?!?" I only had one - they are too sweet for me. It was almost like a I got a sugar shiver when I ate it.

Later my mom called to ask what I was making and I told her the whoopie pies. She quickly pipes up, "Oh did you get a whoopie pie mold??" "A what, I asked? They make molds for these things???" She slowly answered, "YyyEeeSss." Like I was suppose to have known this. "What did you use to make the halves?", she asked. I replied, "I poured them by hand. All of them by hand." I thought I heard her snicker a bit when she said, "That must have taken a while." "Yup, sure as the hell did." And then I know for sure she laughed at me. She did tell me that I could borrow her mold the next time that I go to make them. Thanks mom - will do.

So 48 pies later, I can confirm that we only have seven pies left. Of which, I have still only had the one. I would definitely recommend this recipe to anyone who is getting ready to go to any mountainous location. Eat 3 or 4 of these right before you head up the mountain and you will have such a sugar rush there will be no concerns when it comes to getting altitude sickness. My other take-away from the Red Velvet Whoopie Pie recipe - I hope polka dots on appliances comes back soon!!!

Day 2: Ginger Stars...well sort-of......

I am sure this is a good recipe, but it did not work very well for me. The recipe calls for fresh ginger; of which I had none......Glitch number 1. So over to the computer to locate the conversion of fresh ginger to powdered ginger. Easy enough for every 1 teaspoons of fresh - use 1/2 teaspoon of powdered. I must confess here....I am not sure how long I have had this ginger, but it smells like ginger so I move forward. Everything else I had to finish making the cookie dough. Dumped the dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap and molded into a rectangle and into the refrigerator for 20 minutes to chill. Insert final jeopardy music here..dodododo.......20 minutes later I am rolling out the dough on the counter. Next step - star shaped cookie cutter and lay out on parchment lined cookie sheet.

Easter egg cutter, dinosaur cutter, lobster cutter, clam cutter, tree cutter, fish cutter, sprinkles, ....where in the heck is the star cutter?!? I have one - don't I??? Everyone has a star cookie cutter except me??? Glitch number 2. I pondered for a minute whether I should run to Wal-Mart and get a star cookie cutter and then said to myself, "heck with that crap." I cut out lobsters, clams, trees, a dinosaur, a large fish, an arrow and smiley face cookies. Brush with an egg wash and covered with sugar. Who says you can't have Christmas lobster, clam or fish cookies???

15 minutes later the first batch of cookies are done - pull them out of the oven and Glitch 3. Pot holder in not in my hand.....string of expletives starting with sh*t, damn, and then h*ll rolled out of my mouth as if the holy spirit had entered my body. Holy Spirit gone and hand only slightly stinging AND with potholder in hand, I pull the cookies from the oven. I think to myself, "these have promise." Second batch goes in. This batch is thicker than the first batch so I cook them a little longer. And then a little longer yet - they looked cooked on the sides but the middle still looked doughy. By now the first batch as cooled so I try a lobster.....they taste like plain old sugar cookies. What?? Where is the ginger??? Maybe it was me so I had Chris try one. He says, "Yup, I can't taste any ginger - they taste like a sugar cookie." By now I pull out the second batch since the edges were brown, but the middle still looked under-cooked. With the first batch tasting bland, I decided while this batch was still warm I would dust them with powdered ginger.

I had Mason try this batch. This turns out to be a bad idea. He gets a thick cookie and promptly tells me, "These aren't even done in the middle." He pokes his finger into the cookie, makes a pocket and declares, "These are Hot Pocket Cookies." He then brings me the hollowed-out cookie, sets the cookie on the computer, laughs, and says, "Keep this for inspiration."

My take away with this recipe is:
1. Must use fresh ginger
2. Must use potholder when pulling things from the oven
3. Must roll out cookies in uniform thickness so they bake evenly
4. Must never, ever, ever dust cookies with powdered ginger - dry ginger tastes like dry ginger and it coats the tongue in a distasteful sort of way.

Last, but not least - even a crappy cookie can look good in a photo!!!

12 Days of Christmas Cooking....Day 1 - Egg Nog Flan

Hello Everyone....I have been gone for awhile, but I am back.

Today is the first day of my 12 days of Christmas cooking and I made Egg Nog Flan. This is a surprisingly easy recipe: Eggs (5), Egg Nog (4 cups), Sugar (2/3 cup) and 2 tbsp of water. It seems simple enough and great recipe for day 1. Sugar into the pan with water, medium heat, don't stir - only swirl pan until it turns amber colored. Here is where I ran into my first hiccup. I didn't read ahead to figure out what size pan i needed and I already have the sugar melting. With my right hand, I am swirling the pan and lifting from the heat so it doesn't caramelize before I can get a roasting pan and a pie pan. Left hand starts looking for pie pans for which I have plenty; however, as I read the recipe it calls for a round cake pan. I know I have one, but where??? Swirl, lift from heat with right hand, move muffin pans with left hand. Swirl, lift from heat with right hand, move cookie sheets with left hand. Swirl, lift from heat - success - round cake pan. About 7 minutes later, I have caramelized sugar. I poured it into the cake pan. NOTE to all readers.....when pouring hot liquid into a cake pan, you should not be holding the pan in your bare hand. That pan will get dang hot real fast and if you are like me - you drop it on the counter and a little bit of hot caramelized sugar will find it's way to your foot because you are wearing flip flops.

Next the "flan" mixture. Eggs and Egg Nog - into a bowl. Mix well, but don't get to much air into the mixture. I was careful note to whip the mixture, but I was not careful about the size of bowl had the ingredients in. The bowl was too small so every time I went to mix the egg/egg nog mixture it slopped onto the counter. A smart cook would have stopped and made it easier by getting a larger bowl for mixing. Not me......no need to dirty two bowls - make due with one. Finally both ingredients are mixed and I poured worked to slowly pour it into the caramel lined cake pan. When all of a sudden a plop of mixture sloshes into the pan. Hhhmmmm...maybe a a bit of egg not mixed well??? Maybe, but I really didn't give it a second thought (in hindsight, i should have). Pan into the roasting pan for a Bain Marie. Cover loosely with tin foil and bake for an hour. Here to is where I may have done things differently. Liquid egg mixture in a pan within in a pan of hot water covered with foil will always slosh out on to your foot which is wearing a flip flop. That is pure science right there. Next time - pan in oven then pour hot liquid into the roasting pan while in oven and then cover with foil. Bake for an hour, remove foil and bake for another 40 minutes. Remove from oven, cool to room temperature and then chill for 2 hours. Invert onto a plate and serve. It turned out beautiful, very rich, but quite tasty....I was really surprised at myself. Remember when I said a plop of mixture went into the pan.......well that should have been scooped out because it was a slightly beaten egg that moved to the center of the flan and floated to the top as it cooked into nice area of scrambled eggs.

I think Chris named it the "Flan Frittata" and Mason called it "Scrambled Egg Nog." No matter the name, it was really is good and uniform everywhere else. Maybe tomorrow, I will cut the scrambled part and have it with toast.

An Ode to the Census Taker

It was a Monday night

When a knock of might

pounded on my door

and in stocking feet I skidded across

our entry way floor.

I needed to see - oh who could it be?

Could it be someone selling trees?

Maybe someone collecting canned peas.

I opened the door and what do I see?

But a a man with a badge,

a pencil in hand and

wearing pants that slightly sagged.

He smiled and said, "I hate to nag

but your address has been tagged

for non-return of the census form."

And as a swallowed a mouth full of corn.

I silently wished he been selling porn

(not really, but it rhymed)

He said, "I have a couple of questions

I need to ask,

a few minutes of time and I'll be done with my task.

I also will also tell you

I am bound by the law

to keep your data confidential

no matter how big

or how small.

The Q and the A took roughly 5 minutes

anything longer would have pushed

my patience and my limits.

So our misdeed corrected

Our data protected

I was shaking hands

with the man

The government had selected

to reach out to those who had neglected or

whose sentiments about

the census...be damn.

It would have been nice if his name had been Stan,

but not everything can rhyme.

His name was Ron.

I went back to eating my dinner....some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

A Great Chicken Parmesan Sandwich and 30 Hello's

On Tuesday, I had the pleasure of speaking to a group of residents at Highland Springs Community about my New Years Resolution and Blog. In tow was Grayson - she hurt her ankle at volleyball practice and we had to go the doctor later in the afternoon. I knew it was going to be an excellent experience when the person I met was the receptionist whose name is Donna (there aren't too many of us) and then we met Barbara who was our host/tour guide - she is "Julie, the Cruise Director" (her actual title is Resource Coordinator). WOW....what a great group. Everyone instantly made Gray and I feel as if we were family. There were handshakes and hugs even before I spoke to them. I spoke about my "Hello Project"; my quest to meet a stranger a day, shake hands, how I decided to do this and some of the more memorable people I have met along the way. They were such a great audience that for a couple of minutes I felt as if I was talking to my own grandparents. When I finished, we had a quick q&a and I think it was Herb who asked me if I had been to a tattoo shop yet. I said, "Not yet, do you and I need to go get tattoos?" That garnered a chuckle from audience. Pictures were taken and we were invited to stay for lunch. We followed Barbara's lead and had the lunch special for the day - Chicken Parmesan Sandwich, chips and a drink. I think it was the best Chicken Parmesan sandwich I have ever had. We ate with a great group and learned about all the outside activities (ballgames, symphony, horse races), in house activities (computer classes, Bocce ball, movies), the indoor pool, the spa, the exercise room, the bank, the greenhouse, bistro, poker night, the state clubs (the Kansas club, the NY/NJ club, etc.). I want to live here, but I don't meet the age requirement yet.....have to be at least 62. We also found out that some of the residents are former big band members, a retired FBI agent, a former actress, WWII vets, artists (even one who makes creations out of bones), transplants from London, Hawaii, and almost every state in the union.

I was not smart about meeting everyone - I didn't have them write down their names. But I want to acknowledge, I truly enjoyed meeting each and everyone of you including: Bobbie, Herb, Donna, Eldora, Doris, Dick, Evelyn, Lillian, Monty, Bill, Jody, Marijo, Doreen, Trudy, Barbara, Irene, Walt.

What a great community....so many people, so many stories, not enough time in one visit and one great Chicken Parmesan sandwich - Grayson and I couldn't have asked for a better lunch bunch.

Fried Chicken or Fried Prairie Dog - You make the call......

Here is the chicken update that a few of you have asked about......

I started at 10:30 am, making sure I had a couple cups of coffee in me, and two (yes,I said two) hours later I was finished. The longest part was cutting up the crazy chicken. I thought for sure somewhere deep in my genetic coding that once I picked up the butcher knife, I would be able to figure out how to cut up a chicken like I had been butchering chickens since man created fire. I was confident...to me it seemed like the legs seemed like a no-brainer, the wings were a given and everything would have a "natural fat line" that I would follow to finish. I started with the legs although mine seemed to be a bit longer than what the Colonel serves. Next the wings, cut and folded - easy. Onto the the body and looking for the "natural line." HA....not so fast Miss Transplanted Southern Belle. Where the hell is the natural line - I don't see anything that would give me the faintest idea of what and where to cut next. So I started hacking and sawing trying my best to re-create semblance of a chicken that would be bucket worthy. Some pieces ended up with no bones, some pieces had no skin, one piece ended up having a long tail, and another that looked liked I had fried a prairie dog. It was a mess - the chicken was really cold, I could barely hold on to the knife because my hands were so slippery, I was doing my best "HazMat" impersonation trying to contain the chicken juice so that I wouldn't cross-contaminate anything. And to top it all off, Grayson kept coming in the kitchen every time she heard me mutter under my breath or when the rogue curse would escape my lips. She just shook her head and rolled her eyes. At one point she said, "This doesn't look good at all." I agreed. It looked like WWII had descended upon the poor chicken. Took me 1 1/2 hours to cut up that poor bird.......and with the bird pieces parts piled in a bowl, I washed my hands and got ready to fry.

Flour - check. Lard - check. Salt and pepper - check. Here is where I should interject a pearl of wisdom.....don't try to flour dredge your chicken on a small paper plate. Flour goes everywhere and I mean everywhere and you can only flour two pieces of chicken at a time. It is here that I seriously begin to reconsider my efforts. No, I have gotten this far - I am going to finish - come hell or high water (which I was feverishly wishing for both). Cast iron skillet out and lard melted. Legs, wings and assorted pieces parts go into the skillet. The only thing that I would suggest is to resist the temptation to flip the pieces before they were ready......I held my patience and waited until a good crispy coating had formed. All pieces fried and draining on paper towels....I was drained as well as covered in flour and splattered grease from my fingertips to my elbows. What a hot mess - and I mean literally.

The kids and husband test taste the chicken and the following were their comments:

Mason:

1. "It is good except for the unexpected bone or tendon when you don't expect it" and;

2. "I underestimated the size of that one piece - there was so much chicken - I couldn't even finish that piece."

Grayson:

1. "Oh dad, you should have heard the words that were coming out of the kitchen when she was cutting it up";

2. "It looks a whole lot better fried and it tastes good."

Chris:

1. "What the heck is this piece??? It looks like a couple of pieces fused together."

And of course my mom wanted an update and I explained all of the above. She then tells me:

1. "I used to put the flour and spices into a paper bag and shook it up. That will keep you from getting flour everywhere and then you just throw the bad away." Nice to know - afterwards.

2. "It shouldn't have taken that long to cut up a bird of that size." Yup - even I figured that out about an hour into it.

3. "Now when I do fried chicken, I buy it already cut up - it is much easier." Uh huh....next time that pre-cut bird has my name written all over.

4. "I can't believe I never taught you how to cut up a chicken." Well, if you taught me to cut it up to look like a chicken from Chernobyl - than you did. If it is suppose to look like a chicken from the Colonel - then you must have taught Sondra or I was definitely not paying attention.

I am glad that I did it, but the next time I get a whole chicken (feel free to laugh here), I am going to cut it straight down the back and bake that bad boy just like Tina told me to do. And just a shout out to my grandma (God rest her soul) - thank goodness you didn't trap and skin buffalo....who knows what kind of mess that would have been.

Chickens, Hens, and a Birthday

When you have a birthday approaching (it was yesterday), you tend to reflect on things. Things you have done, things yet to be completed, things that should have happened differently, and of course things that might have been.

So in my place of solace - the grocery store - I pondered why I don't cook more recipes that I grew-up on or at least cook like my mom and grandma did. Then it hit me....why don't I buy a whole chicken and cut it up and fry it??? I/we always seem to let the Colonel do the fried chicken for our family, but not anymore. I have decided that I am going to buy a whole chicken and have some old fashion fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy. Sounds simple enough, I mean my mom always bought a whole chicken and my grandma would have never thought of buying chicken that was already fried. First, go find the lard. Yup, I said "Lard", it's the only thing my grandma would cook with. Found the lard (I went with the small container). Next, Poultry. So there I stand in front of the chicken case staring at pre-cut chicken and whole chickens. Frankly, they all look the same. It is here that I seriously consider backing out of the whole fried chicken thing. So I turn to the lady next to me who is handling the poultry as if she knew what she was doing and I said, "My birthday is coming up and I think that I want to purchase a chicken, cut it up and fry it the way my grandma and my mom did it. Any suggestions?" With her head cocked to the side, she looked at me with that "At your age, you have got to be kidding - you have never fried a chicken" look and I finished her thought for her, "Yup, never have done it and now I want to." As I continued, "So are there any difference between these chickens? And Hi, my name is Donna. I met a stranger a day and write about it." She responded with, "Hi, I'm Tina and no these are not all the same." She showed me that some of the birds we were looking at were actually hens. "Hens take longer to cook, but are more flavorful. You want to use the hens for soups and stews so you can get the most flavor. Use the chicken for frying." And then Tina turned and pointed to the monogram on her sleeve. It read, "Garland ISD Food Service." I laughed and said, "Well, I am pretty sure you know what you are talking about." Tina nodded and went on to tell me that I shouldn't cut up the entire chicken; instead, I should cut it down the middle, squeeze fresh lemon over it, sprinkle with herbs and bake for about 45 minutes. She told me it would be perfect and I wouldn't have to deal with the grease. Well there you go. Tina and I picked out a chicken for me to take home (enough to feed 4) and I thanked Tina for her help as well as the poultry lesson. I also told her that I would fry this chicken and the next time I would bake it.

Tina strolled off and with my whole chicken nestled in my cart, I quickly went to the frozen food aisle and threw a bag of frozen chicken breasts into my cart. I needed to make sure that I had a back-up plan if the chicken has to get tossed into the trash. I will take before and after pictures of my chicken. Wish me luck.

Rice-a-Roni, Richard Branson, and My iPhone

We all have heard about the Apple engineer (Gray Powell who I will refer to as iPhone dude) who took the new iPhone 4 to a German Beer Garden and left it there....publicity stunt or "I can't believe this guy is on our payroll?!?!?"

I am guessing that a guy wanted to impress his date, drank too much beer, got too much lovin' doing the chicken dance and strolled out without his coolness ticket (the iPhone4). You know everyone at Apple now knows him and if he is still employed - you know that when he walks by...they all just stop and stare at him and you only hear the sounds of crickets. As a former HR manager if iPhone dude hasn't already been fired, they are watching him like a hawk and documenting everything he does (even how many times he goes to the bathroom...don't laugh...it happens and oh the stories I could tell). But here is the real kicker in all of this, Lufthansa Airlines has made a public offer to the iPhone dude for a complimentary Business Class ticket to Munich - they took notice of his passion of German Arts and Culture and told him that he could check out the Bavarian Beer Garden Lounge in the Lufthansa terminal and continue where he left off. I wish that Southwest Airlines still had their, "Wanna Get Away" campaign.....featuring an iPhone dude look-alike would have been a slam dunk. What a shame, it would have been a golden campaign.

I am not the iPhone dude, but I am the "Hi, my name is Donna" woman and I am gonna a throw caution to the wind and provide some win-win situations from my vantage point:

1. I left my heart in San Francisco - c'mon Rice-A-Roni....a ticket to the City by the Bay for me and a companion...I am sure that I will find my heart somewhere down on the wharf or on a cable car.

2. I left a pineapple in my trunk once...found it once I smelled it - are you listening Dole...a ticket to Hawaii for a fresh pineapple and I promise I will stop praising the benefits of coconuts...mahalo.

3. Never had a Brazilian wax - are you listening Rio de Janeiro Board of Tourism....a ticket to Rio for a "brazilian" in Brazil.....it makes sense to me. I will sing "The Girl from Ipanema" the entire time.....seu bom.

4. I dressed up as the Chiquita Banana woman once.....Namaste (hello),

India (producers 16.8 million metric tons of bananas) I am natural to visit and as a double bonus I love Indian food. AND the most favorite name of an employee I hired is Indumathi Visvanath (She is great.  Say her name fast three time and it will become your favorite too).

5. G'day mate.....I am from the land Oz (Kansas) and it only seems natural that I should to the Land Down Under (everyone sing along) also know as Oz....I have tried Vegemite - not a big fan, but I am a big Banjo Paterson who penned Waltzing Matilda and we have a didgeridoo at our house. "There' no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home." "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie...Oi, Oi, Oi." It make sense to me.

Lufthansa did it. Southwest, American, Richard Branson, et al - think about the partner opportunities you are missing.....I have my iphone - call me.

Hello,it's Monday

I need to tell you about Peggy who I met; however, I have the the flu or something close to it since Saturday evening....don't panic - I am sure I will be up and writing full force tomorrow.

Butter, Doll Face, and Ralphie from The Christmas Story

Everything is better with butter. Right?!?! Absolutely!!!

So with that thought in mind - Trish, Lexy, Grayson and myself went to Legacy Books in Plano to meet the one and only Paula Deen. The book signing event was scheduled to begin at 6:00 pm so Trish and I thought we should get there about 5:00pm to ensure a good spot in line. Well, maybe 4:00pm would have been a better idea....Dallas does love Paula Deen. The line began upstairs where we were fortunate to be, but once the upstairs filled up with two very choreographed weaving lines - the others were kept downstairs where there lines wound in and around the stack of books. There were young, old, women, men (who get extra points for being there), and even a Great Pyrenees - it's true - everybody and their dog loves Paula Deen.

At 6:03pm, we hear, "Hi Y'all" followed by her trademark laugh which is met with resounding applause. Gray and Lexy scooted over closer to take photos of Paula while Trish and I held our places in line. After she took her place at the table, the line moved quickly (okay - I really having nothing to compare it to but it must have been the good company I was with and the anticipation) and before you know it we see Paula's husband, Michael. Michael is graciously taking photos with those who asked - and we asked. First the girls had their photo taken with him and then Trish and I had are photo taken with him. And there she was...and we quickly wondered if she would have butter perfume on. I don't think she did, but wouldn't that have been great!!! She is just a beautiful as she is on television. Gray was just ahead of me and as she got in front of Paula; Paula said, "Hi there, Doll Face." And Gray said, "Hi" as she had her cell phone in her right hand taking photos and the digital camera in the left snapping photos. As Gray was snapping photos, I met Brandon Branch who co-wrote the book with her and I extended my hand and broke into my spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna..." I was shaking hands with Brandon and explaining to him that I meet a new stranger everyday and write about it. He said, "Well, we are no longer strangers." And about that quick, I was in front of Paula. Her eyes are just a beautiful in person as they are on television and then I fumbled out, "I understand that you had a Grandma Paul. My name is Donna Paul." And she tells me, "I was named after my Grandma and Grandpa Paul." I quickly told her that I meet a stranger a day and I write about them and that I was going to write about her and Brandon. And she said, "Oh my, you do? Do you publish it?" And I was being hurried off by the bookstore minder - it was like a scene straight from A Christmas Story when Ralphie doesn't tell Santa that he wants the Red Ryder BB Gun and gets pushed down the slide; stops and climbs back up...well that was me.....I shucked and jived around the bookstore minder and squeaked out, "I do - I use blogspot." And just that quick, we were done seeing Paula. Gray and I bid Trish and Lexy good-bye and told them to have a great weekend.

Gray and I then turn our sights on getting to the volleyball game. Once in the car, Gray changes into her uniform - we have 30 minutes to cross Plano and to the gym. We made with 10 minutes to spare. Whew. The Lady Blue Rays won 2 out of 3.

And Paula Deen if you are reading this, Doll Face played great tonight. We (meaning me) even yelled from the stands, "C'mon Doll Face, win this one for Paula!!!"

Pollen, Puffy Eyes, and Iceland

I am typing quickly as I am in between symptoms - yup - fighting horrible allergies. Today's symptoms are swollen eyes...yes, both eyes have been swelling on and off all day. I have used allergy medicine, eye drops, laying with my eyes closed, and now ice......it is a terribly horrible look. I look like I could be an extra in a Cheech and Chong movie without the munchies side-effect. I can only thank the good lord that I don't live in down wind from the Icelandic volcano. If the ash can ground airplanes - can you imagine what kind of allergies symptoms that will bring the people down wind??? It will produce beautiful sunsets; however, for the poor saps with allergies - they won't be able to see those beautiful red sunsets. UGH.....everyday the pollen counts are off the charts - I am just not sure how much more we (I) can take.

To my fellow sufferer's - this has been one of the worst allergy seasons in recent memory and I feel your pain and when will this end. Can I get an AMEN!?!

To those of you who don't sneeze, drip, blow, cough, rub, scratch, and are spore-free; I hear Iceland is a nice place to visit this year.

QVC, Coca Cola, and Mad Dog 20/20

I am going to admit this - right here and right now - I am watching Ken Paves on QVC and he is hawking Hairdo by Ken Paves & Jessica Simpson. I have actually stopped writing my stranger blog to write this blog. Back to QVC and Ken........I was flipping through the channels trying to find something to watch and fascinated by short to long hair, no bangs to bangs and flat crowns to voluminous crowns. I am 39 minutes into it and I am still watching. I am digging the headband fall, but not loving the 10" Bump Up the Pony. This "hair"can be washed, curled, flat-ironed, hair sprayed....omg....I think I might be falling in love with synthetic hair.

Okay, so let's talk about fake hair for a minute.....it seems that we (society) are quick to accept that female celebrities (maybe even some males like Nicholas Cage and John Travolta) change their hairstyles for award shows, red carpet events, or roles and we even accept that normal (non-star) African-American or Black (your choice) women wear fake hair all the time. BUT put fake hair on a Caucasian or White (your choice) woman and all hell breaks loose.....like wearing white after Labor Day, like not removing your hat during the National Anthem, like a woman showing up at the Kentucky Derby without a hat, and like when Coca Cola changed its recipe a couple years back - yup - all major hell break loose moments. Why is that???? For the love of Pete, Kate Gosselin made the cover of People magazine when she got extensions...really?!?!? I know plenty women who would love to be able to grow out short without having to deal with it or have short hair one day and then the next have long hair without the worry of some back biting comment made by "friends or colleagues" in either the bathroom or break room.

I am seriously considering ordering the headband fall just to see what if it is as good as it looked in TV. I could be the poster child for everyday Caucasian or White (your choice) women to enter the fake hair arena. Hhhmmm....maybe one day it will be as common as Egg Nog at Christmas or Fireworks at the 4th of July or Mad Dog 20/20 with Tacos. Okay, maybe not the last one.....but you get what I am saying.

Brookshire's, Bag Boys and a Bone (for the dog)

The kids did not have school on Monday so we (me, the kids, the dog, and one of Gray's friends) decided to go to the lake house and hang out for a couple of days. There is something about getting away from the "city" and going about 2 hours East to rural. I am really a rural girl at heart and you know what they say, "You can take the girl out of Kansas, but you can not take the Kansas out of the girl." So true, so true. When we go, it always seems that we need to go into town and this time was no different. List in hand, Mason and I are off to Mt. Pleasant to pay a visit to Brookshire's. If you haven't guessed by now, I love to go grocery shopping and the adventure is even better when it is in a small town. Of course the minute we walk in, the high school girls who are cashiers all turn and look at Mason (6'1'', less than 2% body fat). You know they are thinking....there's a new boy in town (yup, please feel free to sing along). Lettuce - check, milk - check, cinnamon rolls - check, cheese - check, chips - check and off to the check-out. And this is when I meet Krysten. Cute, perky, local girl who is definitely checking out more than just my groceries (she was definitely scanning him up and down). She tells me, "That will be $37.06 (full disclosure - we had a few impulse purchases.....Bone for the dog and Little Debbie Nutty Bars)." And I say, "Waahoo - what a bargain, I should have bought more." And Krysten looks up and says to me, "Did you just say Waahoo?" I say cautiously "Y e s, I did, why?" "I have never heard that word before," she said. Me - "Really???" Krysten - "Really." (Then I think to, myself, "Okay, well it is kinda of an old word and I don't use it that often, but it is 2010. Is it that strange of a word?") "Hi, my name is Donna......" Then it hits me like a load of bricks....she is engaging me in conversation in hopes that Mason will jump in and participate. No such luck Krysten - Mason is a man of few words and a conversation at the grocery in Mt. Pleasant is definitely not on his radar. Groceries bagged and I get ready to push the cart out and I am practically accosted by the bag boy. Yeah, you heard me right - bag boy. The bag boys still take your groceries to your car in Mt. Pleasant and they take their job seriously - this is old school baby.

With the bag boy in tow, we head to the car. Mason sums up his take of the adventure in a slightly condescending tone, "Coming to Brookshire's, must be the family thing to do - I have so many families coming here together. Why? And did you see the riding lawn mower for sale near the soda aisle" My reply? "Well, it is late Sunday afternoon in a small town. That's the way it used to be it in the Little Apple. Aunt Sondra and I always seemed to be with Nana Jan when she went to Dutch Maid or Dillons (if we were lucky - Dillons - they had all the cute bag boys). Aww -those were the days."

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, they were selling fresh green beans in Glad Ziploc bags - as if they were just picked from someones garden. Mason shuddered at the fact and said, I am sure that's not up to safety standards.....Ziploc bags? Are you kidding me?" I just smiled and thought, You're right. You would never see that in Dallas. Mt Pleasant for sure and maybe in the Little Apple, but that's just the way we roll...old school baby!!!

Orange Hair, Green Beard and Lady Blue Rays

When you see someone with orangish/red hair and a green beard wearing chartreuse tie-dye socks with Crocs, you know that you have to officially meet them. I know image conjures up visions of leprechaun's , but I am pretty sure he isn't one. This was the case at Gray's last volleyball game. I had actually seen him last season with the orangish/red hair wearing brown tie dye socks, but never took the time to meet him so as our game was over I waited to meet him. After he was finished turning in the team roster, I ran over to mid-court and said, "Hi, my name is Donna...." I continued my spiel and shortly I was shaking hands with Roy. I asked him if he was a full-time coach and he told me, "No, I do this for my daughters - I have four of them." He colors his hair and beard for the team - the team rubs his hair for luck. This year, his team is wearing chartreuse shirts hence the chartreuse tie dye socks (which I have to admit are better than last year's brown tie dye. The brown tie-dye socks from a distance looked a bit poo). Roy told me that I could stay and watch their games, and we could talk more later. I declined - I didn't want him to think this was a creative pick-up line.

How did the Lady Blue Rays fare? We won the second game, we are now tied for 1st.

Socks, Shrimp, and Shotgun Shells

Credit Cards. It never fails, but every time I go to purchase something I get asked if I want to apply for a credit card. I can appreciate the store's need to generate extra revenue, but why ask me when I am ready to check out? Wouldn't it make more sense to ask me when I am walking into the store when my hands are free and I haven't started my shopping experience? Because when I am ready to checkout - I am ready to go...period. To confirm, I have gotten away from using credit cards and these days I only use a debit card - if we don't have the money then we don't get it (which is a far cry from my habits of youth).

So it went when I met Andrea. I had unloaded my cart and was making small talk (chipper young girl with a sweet smile, about a year out of high school, and wanting a new car) when she turned to me and asked me, "Did I ask you if you wanted to open up a credit card with us?" I answered, "No, you didn't." She said, "Well I am not sure why anyone would want one. I think they charge like 27% interest and hardly anyone ever qualifies for one. I mean, you would probably qualify, but most people don't. But we have to ask." I am gonna guess the last part of her spiel was not in the corporate hand book.

So let me get this right.......my ice cream is melting and you want me to stop and fill out a form for a credit card? I am confident I would have had ice cream soup and my milk would have turned to yogurt if I would have stopped to fill out an application. I think my mouth was hanging open and I guess lucky for her I wasn't a "secret shopper." Because a secret shopper would have had her reprimanded before I loaded my groceries in my car. I understand that some stores offer the lay-away process for Christmas gifts and seasonal items, but a charge card for Wal-Mart? Why??? Think about how long it would take for you to pay off a steak if you charged it. By the time it was paid off; I would have cooked the steak, consumed the steak, digested and pooed the steak, eaten about 165 different meals consisting of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And probably fit a seven day vacation before the steak was paid off. Good lord, for the that price I could purchase my own cow, feed it, and have it butchered. So I turn to Andrea and say, "Thanks for the offer, but I think I will pass." And with a hint of sarcasm I added, "But what a nice offer."

Wait...maybe I should reconsider....it's not often that you can get a credit card where you can purchase socks, shrimp, and shotgun shells under one roof.

Under the Weather

It 's Thursday and I didn't forget about writing, but today I have been under the weather and I've have sleeping most of the day. So I will write twice tomorrow....sleep well and sweet dreams.

Urban Legend, Speed Channel, and Febreze

When you hear a story told time and time again, you get to the point when you don't know if it is truth or urban legend. The same could be said for Ramblin' Rose. I had heard stories from Mason and stories from Chris when he did a ride along with the Rowlett Police so when Chris pulled up in front of Ramblin' Rose, I will admit that I was nervous. As I sat in the car surveying the joint and trying to muster up the nerve to go in, I noticed that there is a historical marker on the outside of the building. I am not sure how and why, but it does have historical designation - so it can't be that bad - right?!? Chris asked me, "Do you want me to come in with you?" I said, "No, I can do it." And as luck would have it - a car pulled up and I decided I would wait and walk in with whoever got out of the car. I got out and waited. From the car appears a woman and I go up and start walking with her. "Hi, my name is Donna," I extend my and I am shaking hands with Shirley. Shirley holds the door for me, lets me go in first (ugh, I really wanted to follow her in, but no such luck), and I officially cross the threshold into Ramblin' Rose. I have to squint for my eyes to adjust and Shirley quickly finds a bar stool at the end of the bar. I am instantly odd man out and I have 10 sets of eyes staring at me. So I tell them, "I'm with Shirley." And that seems to break the chill. The first person that speaks to me is Debora. We shake hands; I tell her my New Year's resolution and that I write about the people I get to meet. Debora works there on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Tuesday sounds like a hoppin' night because it is $2 beer (bottles) and $2 burger night (cheese is extra). According to Debora, Friday night the "kids" come in and the rest of the time it is a familiar group. I said to Debora, "If kinda feels like Cheers. Where everybody knows your name." Debora says, "Exactly." Just then the bartender asks me for my id and I tell her, "I'm not here to drink. I am here to meet people and to write an article." Debora kinda waves her off and we are back to conversation. Ramblin' Rose opened in 1992, Tuesday night and Thursday night is shuffleboard night. They have a karaoke night, they have pool tables, they have a big screen that comes down from the ceiling when they watch football games, they sell pitchers, and Debora is not a beer girl. I then notice that there are dollar bills signed and stapled to the ceiling and pillars around the bar so I ask Debora about the meaning. She says, "They have been here every since I have." This when I meet Kathy Lee who is sitting to the left of Debora at the bar. Kathy Lee tells me that is started in 2000, 2001 when a regular named Betty Lou passed away from cancer. Someone wrote a message on a dollar bill to honor Betty Lou and it was stapled to the ceiling. Now just about any kind of message (I saw bachelorette party references, love notes and R.I.P) appears on the bills (I saw ones, fives and a ten) stapled to the ceiling and the pillars around the bar. About this time a gentleman leaves the bathroom and heads for the door and everyone tells Bill goodbye. Even I gave holler out to Bill as he leaves. Back to my conversation with Kathy Lee, she tells me that they only serve chips with the burger - no fries. Her actual word were to the effect of "F the fries...that's what Debora says." Debora quickly jumps in and says, "That's what Kathy Lee says." We all laugh - I am loving this place. Shirley moves down to the empty bar stool on the other side of Debora and we continue talking about the bar. I turn to Debora and I say, "You gotta love a place that has the Speed Channel on showing the Barrett Jackson auction." Debora is impressed and then asks if I am a NASCAR fan and I tell her,"Yes." Debora turns to Kathy Lee and says, "She is going to fit in here just like a glove." High fives all around and I am high fivin' back. Did I mention that I am loving this place?!?!? Unfortunately all good things have to end and I tell everyone that I have to leave. I tell Debora, Kathy Lee, and Shirley that I will be back and I will bring my husband with me the next time. I shake hands with them and I again tell them good bye. When I get to the door, I turn, wave and I hear a couple voices say, "Take care Donna. Come back soon." And I holler back, "Oh, I will!!"

At the Ramblin' Rose, I debunked the urban legend that it is scary and unwelcoming. The truth about the Ramblin' Rose - it is a smokey (I did have to febreze myself before I could start dinner) honky - tonk - not your Urban Cowboy honky - tonk, but a plain and simple Texas honky - tonk.

A Skipping, Singing Spider-Man at the Supermarket

I was cruising down the frozen food aisle when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. Donned in a red shirt, brown hair, tan pants, happy birthday hat - he went skipping by muttering something about it being his birthday. I smiled as he passed, but when he turned and came skipping back my direction, I knew that I had to meet him. With his mother close by, I bent down and asked him the obvious, "Is today your birthday?" "It's my natural birthday," he said. I am wondering if this is some new age reference that I am unaware of and as I am pondering - his mom says, "Today is your birthday." So with that established, I stuck out my hand and said, "Hi, my name is Donna." He said, "My name is Isaac." I was thinking that he might be five but I said, "So are you 12 today?" He laughed and said, "No." Then held up six fingers. Isaac tells me, "My birthday party is this weekend." I say to Isaac, "Cool, are you having camels and marshmallows at your party?" "No, I am having a Spider-man party," he said. And at the same time, Issac and I both strike the Spidey throwing web pose in the frozen food aisle. His mom laughs. I turn to her and tell her that I meet a stranger a day and write about it. She asks me the name of my blog and I tell her. "Oh, that is a cute name," she says. And then Isaac comes right up next to me and asks if I am going to write about him and I tell him "Yes." Then in a perfectly poised six year old voice he says, "OK, this is what you need to write......you need to write that I am having my party this weekend, I got a black and brown BB gun today and I am cute." I almost fell to the ground laughing and his mom quickly interjects, "And modest too." Since my ice cream were starting to melt, I told Isaac that I need to go, but that I hoped he had a great birthday and a great party. I wished his mother a great night and good-bye.

"Happy Birthday to you; Happy Birthday to you; Happy Birthday dear IISSAA-AACC; Happy Birthday to you!" OR "Spiderman, Spiderman, Does whatever a spider can." There are some birthday's that I've been like Isaac (my 11th , 16th, 18th, my 21st, and 30th) and there are others that I have barely acknowledged. After meeting Isaac, I have decided that this year I am going to be like Isaac. Happy, skipping, and I am most definitely going to wear a hat.

A Body Pillow, Gudrun, and Man in a Trunk

When you see a man in a trunk - you know there is a story, but more about that in a few minutes. The forecast for today was suppose to be showers all day (I think it rained for maybe 30 minutes) so Gray and I decided that we would go out early this morning - we needed to buy a birthday present for Gray to take to Abbey's birthday party. After I suggested a purse, a shirt or two, and lounge wear; we decided on a body pillow with a zebra cover. We also bought a cool picture frame for her. So with a body pillow the size of Gray, picture frame and giant gift bag - we head to the checkout. The clerk asked me about the weather and I told her that I parked close and hoped that the rain shower had passed over. She bagged our items; I extended my hand and gave her my spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna...." and soon enough I was shaking hands with Linda. Blond with glasses, Linda was very friendly and perky. And I think if I would have asked her if she liked her job - I do believe she would have said yes and I would have believed her. I had noticed the lady behind us in line - the size of her groceries caught my eyes. Very small bag of new potatoes, a small amount of what looked to be thinly sliced prosciutto, small package of imported country cheese. I immediately thought of my European friends who go to the market daily to purchase only what they need for that day. I knew had to meet her. So when I finished with Linda, I turned and extended my hand to the woman behind me. She had heard my talking to Linda and when I went to shake her hand she told me her name, "Grudwein." Her accent was heavier than I guess I had anticipated so I repeated what I thought I heard, "Grudwein?" "No," she said. And again she repeated it, "Gudrun. Like good and run. Gudrun." "Gudrun, it is nice to meet you." I ask, "Is the accent Eastern European?" "No, German near Holland." I nod in agreement, but I know as soon as I get home that I need to look a map. I again tell her that I was glad to have met her and she says, "Tell me your name again - I want to tell my friend about you." "Donna and this is my daughter Grayson," I said. The other people in line were either put out that I was holding up the line or that I wasn't taking the time to meet them as well. So I wished Linda and Gudrun a good day and good bye.

Lucky for us - no rain when we left the store, but as we got to our car I think that I see a girl talking to a man in the trunk of a car. We load the bags into the back seat of the car and I tell Gray, "There is a story there...I should go meet the man in the trunk." And being the good sport that she is she says, "Oh yeah, let's go do it." Well that is all the prompting that I need. And sure enough as we get closer - there is a guy (looks to be about high school age) laying in the trunk of the car and the girl (also probably in high school) is talking to him. She looks at me and he looks up at me and all I can say is, "There has to be a story here. Can I ask why are you in the trunk?" He says, "I just wanted to be in the trunk." "Did you ride over here in the trunk?" I asked. He laughed and said "No" like I was an idiot to suggest something so bizarre. And I thought to myself, I am talking to a dude in a trunk and he thinks I am the oddball?!?!? He continued with, "I wanted to get in the trunk and see if she would close it." At this point I decided that I should introduce myself, "Hi my name is Donna..." I turned and shook hands with Megan and then I shook hands with Neal who was still in the trunk. So I turn back to Megan and ask her, "Why didn't you close the trunk?" She said, "I was afraid that he wouldn't be able to get out." Huh? And this is when Neal piped up and said, "Well, I do have the keys in my hand." Hhhmmm....okay.....that might have bothered me a little bit too. And with Neal making no movements to get out of the trunk, Gray and I tell them good bye and I wished them a good day. As Gray and I got into the car, she turned to me and said, "That was weird." I agreed.

And as we drove away, I looked in my rear view mirror and noticed that the trunk was closed. Is that what they mean by junk in the trunk????

Hair Color and the Jetsons

I am typically a Do-It-Yourself (DIY) kinda gal when it comes to my hair. But once or twice a year I do go and have it professionally done - usually when I am going from winter color to summer color or when going from a long cut to a short cut. As an early birthday present my mom paid for me to have "some highlights" put into my hair....which is really just the stepping off point for me to take over. Off to see Tracey@Vida's Salon. She understands that I cut (okay, hack and saw) my hair and even gives me color tips so when I DIY the dye - I won't turn my hair too red (been there) or too orange (been there too). Over the winter I decided that since almost everyone in Dallas was blond I would go for a color closer to my real color of brunette. A couple of things I found out about being brunette:

1. It does make my blue eyes brighter;

2. Brown on brown color doesn't turn too brassy;

3. Gray hair shows up a helluva lot more;

4. When your kids tell you that your hair is really gray and you really should do something to cover it up;

5. It is time to go back to being blond (it's easier to hide the grays).

The only thing that I have not been able to master at the DYI level is highlighting with foils - this how I ended up in Tracey's chair. The highlighting process goes something like this: Donna folds foil and hands to Tracey; Tracey places foil; she paints on the color on sectioned hair; folds over the foil; flip completed foil out of the way; repeat. Somewhere between folding and flipping foil, a sales representative appears wanting Tracey to try some new product. In the chair with nowhere to go and looking like something straight from the Jetsons (the episode when Judy goes the Jet Screamer concert), I listen patiently to the conversation of product composition, cost, samples, and availability when I extend my hand to the stranger and introduce myself. "Hi, my name is Donna" and I continue with my spiel. I don't think that she realized that I was talking to her until Tracey stepped in and told her that I write about people that I meet. Only then did she extend her hand and she said, "My name is Stephanie." "Well, it is nice to meet you Stephanie," I said. Somewhat unimpressed, she turned back to Tracey leaving her a price list and business card (I think). And with Stephanie's departure, we went back to my hair. Foils done, under the hair dryer, foils out, wash hair, cut hair, dry and style.....two hours I am done and out the door. I don't see Tracey that often but I never walk away disappointed.

The home experience is somewhat different color comes in a box, no foils, it only takes 45 minutes, and the final color is somewhat of a crap shoot. My friends and family can attest to the fact that I have been everything from orange (which required professional help to correct), to cinnamon, to blond, to mahogany, to brown. But at home I can sing; "Meet George Jetson; His Boy Elroy; Daughter Judy; Jane his Wife." Followed by "Eep Opp Ork Ah-Ah".

Peppermints, Pinkie Rings and Pineapple

Finding a stranger rich environment is like finding a honey hole when fishing; when you get a couple of good hits - you keep going back. Where you might ask is my new honey hole??? Model Homes. Sometimes you can get in and out without having to fill out any paperwork, but other times - you only have to give them minimal information to get all the floor plans as well as the guided tour. I found distinct groups touring the homes: the solo's who are tired of renting; the just married's or just pregnant's; the empty-nester's; the just looking's and me.

Recently the kids and I went to two separate Grand Home communities and toured their model homes. At the Enclave @ Emerald Forest, I met Viviana who is the Community Sales Manager. The homes at the Enclave are spacious and prices start in the low $240's. At Jackson Hills, I met Tom who is the Community Sales Manager's assistant. The homes at Jackson Hills are smaller, still roomy and the prices start in the low $190's. The two communities are less than a mile apart, two different cities, two different counties and Viviana and Joe couldn't be more polar opposite; Viviana in her designer shoes and Joe with his pinkie ring.

Both of them were very personable and yet I don't think either one of them heard that I had New Year's resolution to meet a new person everyday. No worries. When Joe gave me the tour, he was sure to point things out in the kitchen, the laundry room and the "hers" (his term) room which was really just an extra bedroom and yet nothing about the "man" (my word) office. But he did tell me about all the recent upgrades that have been recently been made by the builder that is passed along to the customer without cost. Joe's house has free peppermints and he did tell me that he was married with grand kids. When Viviana gave me the same type of tour, she pointed out things like the hardware used for the cabinets and in the bathroom as well as where the outlets were positioned throughout the house. Viviana also gave me the spiel about the upgrades and I should point out that out of the two - she is the only one to have called me back, but no peppermints and no personal information.

Of course, I realize that you don't decide to purchase a house based on peppermints or gathering personal information from the sales people - it's location, location, location and a fresh pineapple platter with a Tom Thumb gift certificate.

Lady Blue Rays and Sammie Louise

I have yet another stranger rich environment- the volleyball gym. Six courts, with games every hour....I was bound to find someone to meet and sure enough - I was right. Our daughter plays every Friday night and practices every Monday night in two different gyms. But I met this stranger at VIP (a volley ball gym) while we were watching the Lady Blue Rays (my daughter's team) play a match and she was sitting in the row in front of me. She had never been to a volleyball game and had not been able to see her granddaughter (who also plays for the Lady Blue Rays) play before because she has really bad knees. For those who have bad knees, the bleachers are low and narrow and it makes it difficult to get in and out- let alone be comfortable for three matches. And I knew all of this before I even met her!! Not knowing the rules of game, she rooted for both teams and periodically she would turn around and ask me, "Was that our team?" I answered, "No, but you go ahead and root for both teams." As the Lady Blue Rays won the first match and the second, she got a little more animated and every now again regardless if the ball was in or out she would utter, "Oh, baby girl that was good." And all of us sitting around her seemed to assume the same attitude as the Lady Blue Rays played their third match. Just so you know, I can get a little loud when I am rooting for the Lady Blue Rays (OK, louder than most) and I even found myself giving kudos to the other team. The Lady Blue Rays ended up winning all three matches and as soon as "the good sportsmanship line" was done - my mom, myself, and a few others helped her to her feet and from the stands. It was then that I officially extended my hand, said, "Hi, my name is Donna" and told her of my New Year's resolution. She excitedly told me that her name was "Sammie with an i e." "Sammie Louise." Sammie needed help getting to the front of the gym and you could tell that her knees were probably bothering her. She sat down at the front while her family went and brought the car around to the front door. And we left, I gave a big old holler good bye, "YOU HAVE A GOOD NIGHT SAMMIE LOUISE."

We, the Lady Blue Rays parents, have adopted Miss Sammie Louise as our rallying point. When the girls game starts to slack or they get down-hearted, we yell out, "Do it for Sammie Louise."

Sneezy, Bennie and the Jets, and Jill

The Blue Bonnets and the Red Buds are blooming as well as my allergies. Yesterday I became one of the seven dwarfs; Sneezy and I didn't stop until I went to bed. And today I became the eighth dwarf; Swollen, Drippy Eye I(the one they never let in the house)....isn't that a pretty picture. So I waited as long as possible before I ventured out to meet a stranger - I was afraid that I might scare them away. But even if I look like the eight dwarf, I have to go meet a stranger. Put on the big Jackie O sunglasses and off I go. I stopped worrying about my eye when from the radio begins...."Hey kids, shake it loose together......" Oh yeah, guessed it - Elton John singing Bennie and the Jets. And by the time I was singing, "BBBBennie" - I spotted the stranger that I wanted to meet. The only problem is that I am on a two lane road with no shoulder to pull over. Down the road, make a u-turn and head back , but this time I pull off onto a residential street. Look both ways and dart across the road and partially down the ditch (I didn't want to get hit by an oncoming vehicle). She stopped and came toward the fence and I could tell that she was perplexed that I was standing there so as she moved closer to the fence I asked, "Do you mind if I watch?" She said, "No." And with that I said, "Hi, my name is Donna..." And I was now talking with Jill was in a horse arena exercising her five year old thoroughbred horse named Remmy (short for Rembrandt). Jill was dressed in her tan breeches, black shirt, black riding boots and a whip in hand. She told me that she lived close and boarded Remmy there, but she was a little anxious as the owner of the property has it up for sale. As we were talking, Remmy was sneaking bites of sweet grass from under the fence which prompted Jill to say that Remmy acts like he is always hungry and he eats the most of all of 12 horses there. I told Jill that when my kids were smaller, they would love to go home the long way and would always say, "Let's go home the horse way." I think Remmy was eating more grass than wanted so she pulled Remmy back to the center of the arena and there I stood there for the next 10 minutes just watching them. The sun was starting sink in the afternoon sky and it was a beautiful choreographed dance between Jill and Remmy. Remmy trotted around in a circle with his beautiful chestnut mane blowing in the wind and as, if on cue, the wind caught Jill's whip and chestnut hair too. It was a perfect Texas moment that just doesn't get any better and I was so glad that I stopped. As Remmy and Jill took a break - I thanked them for letting me stop and watch; I wished them a great evening and good-bye. Back up the ditch I went; looked both ways for oncoming traffic and dashed back over to my car.

And as I pulled my car back into traffic, I see Remmy kicking up dust as he pranced around the arena and I started to sneeze. Oh great - I have turned into the hybrid dwarf, Sneezy Swollen Drippy Eye. I don't even think Walt Disney could have made this dwarf cute.

Chardonnay, Cabbage, and Carrie

The last couple of days I have been consumed with March Madness and watching my beloved Kansas State University Wildcats. I have been wearing my purple polish for my toenails, purple flip-flops, purple shirt...you get the picture...all things purple. I am Wildcat Proud that we made to the Elite Eight, but alas we lost yesterday to Butler. And now we wait for football season!!! The Cats played yesterday afternoon so I had to make sure that I got to the grocery store and back home and groceries unloaded before the game started. I love going to the grocery. I like to go up and down every aisle looking at all things high and low. It can sometimes that me two hours, but yesterday was a "shopping by the list only" adventure. The bottled water and wine share the same aisle and it was there that I met my stranger. I was loading flavored water into my cart and a mother and her little girl bounced down the aisle. The little girl said something about getting a different kind of wine and I snickered. The mom turned and said, "I guess she shouldn't probably know so much about wine." And I said, "My kids are very familiar with wine in a box. And I drink something that requires a corkscrew - they wonder if it is a special occasion." She said, "Oh thanks for saying that I need to get something with a screw-top as we will be outside." With that I knew that I had found a kindred spirit (pun intended) and I extended my hand and gave her my spiel; "Hi my name is Donna." Next thing I knew I was shaking hands with Carrie so I asked how it was spelled. She said, "C a r r i e, like Carrie Fisher and oh that's my last name too." "Oh my goodness, just like the actress?", I asked. "Yes, and I sometimes get autograph requests when people find out my last name," Carrie said. "That is too cool," I said and I go back to loading my bottle water and Carrie and her daughter select a screw-top wine. I wish them a good day as we both leave the aisle; they go right and I go left towards the dairy section for two gallons of milk. No looking at the new items in the dairy section, I am strictly shopping by the list. Off to the cereal aisle, coffee, bacon. Oh wait, is that corned beef??? I didn't have corn beef and cabbage for St. Patrick's Day so maybe I can get a couple of things not on the list. Added corn beef, red potatoes, and cabbage to my cart and off to the check out line I went.

Remember the bottle water that I purchased? Well, when I went out to my car to put the groceries in the car, one of the bags with water in it split. Yup, you guessed it. I am was chasing bottles of water, six to be exact rolling down the parking lot. Did I mention that on Saturday we had wind gusts up to 20 mph? So those bottles weren't just gently rolling - they were rolling at the speed of a NASCAR warm-up lap - about 70 miles an hour and different directions. I am sure I was quite a sight chasing my bottled water across and around the parking lot. Thank goodness I only had to chase six bottles - could you imagine if I had bought a 24 pack? Oh lord, I might have just called my friends in Rockwall, TX and told them to be on the look out for them rolling down Highway 66.

Dog (he's not), Dental Work, and Doc's

So let me ask you this.....Question: When is being a repeat customer a bad thing for you, but a good thing for the business? Give up?!?!? Answer: When you are a repeat customer to Doc's Bail Bonds. Doc's Bail Bonds is located in downtown Garland and since I have never been in the need of a bails bondsman - I decided I needed to check it out. So I ditty-bop in the door and glance around quickly. Sparsely decorated - two desks, some Texas-style bird houses in the window, reproduction of Starry Night on one wall, and, multiple volumes and shelves of law books. Behind the desk stands a man and I quickly maneuver over to the man standing behind one of the desks. He immediately asks, "Can I help you?" I said, "Well, I hope so." And with a wink, he says, "It depends on what you need" (A little bail bondsman humor). So with hand extended I began my spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna...." and just that quick I was shaking hands with Randy. And just as quick, Randy introduced me to Lee who was sitting behind the other desk. I learned that Doc's has two locations and the Garland office is housed in an old filling station which appears to be about 50 years old. They have been at the Garland location for about 1 1/2 years. Randy has been in the "business" for about 20 years and before he was a bail bondsman; he was on the apprehension side of the business (ooh, I bet there are some good stories there). I also learned that not everyone who is need of a bondsman is a felon or violent....according to Randy, "Some people just make stupid mistakes and some aren't even guilty." (On the last part - don't they all say that?!?!) I also learned that Doc's is not open 24 hours, but instead they work in two shift and are open about 18 hours a day, open seven days a week, and are only closed on Christmas day. Randy was very talkative and told me that in about four weeks he was going to Mexico to have some dental work done and that he would be taking the train to El Paso. There is an American doctor he will see and if he had the work done in the United States it would cost him about $10,000. In Mexico - $5,000. Randy is the first person that I have ever met who was taking a medical vacation. I told him that I would come back in about 5 weeks or so and check on him and the work that his international mouth. Did I mention that Randy was taking the train? Randy loves taking the train - he just recently went up to Chicago to meet up with some of his "Federal Agent friends" and took the train. He told me, "The train is cheaper, you can drink all you want, 5 star meals, the chairs you sit in are nicer than some beds that I have slept in and great scenery along the way." I told him that I had always wanted to travel somewhere on the train and had just never gotten around to it. Randy asked that I when I wrote my blog not "to not make bail bondsmen look like a Dog the Bounty Hunter or someone crazy. We are just normal." I told him that I make sure of that. Randy told me that he needed to get going - he was going to sign a lease on a new apartment. As Randy and I moved toward the door, a car pulled up with two gentleman inside - one young, one not so young. As the gentleman entered, Randy decided to hold back so I wished Randy good luck with his mouth, his apartment and I told both he and Lee good-bye. As the door closed I heard someone say, "It's good to see you again." I thought to myself, yikes, maybe a repeat customer. And as I got back in my car, I looked over the one the business cards I picked up and on the back of the bright yellow card there were six rules:

1. Check in by telephone every Tuesday or Wednesday between 9 am and 9 pm;

2. Notify office immediately of any changes in address, phone numbers, or employment;

3. Notify office within 10 days with name, address, phone number of my attorney;

4. Notify office before leaving the county;

5. I understand that bond jumping is punishable by up to 5 years in the penitentiary;

6. I am responsible for keeping up with my own court date.

And then this blurb: Violation of any of these rules would be just cause for a warrant to be issued for my arrest. Most of the above rules seem pretty easy and obvious, but I had no idea about rule 5.

And since I gave my word to Randy - Randy was nothing like Dog the Bounty Hunter. Randy had really short hair, black briefcase, yellow polo-type shirt, khaki pants, and not one tattoo (that I could see). Sick of Jail? Call the Doctor.

Dos Hombres (Two Men) and a Mattress Delivery

I have seen this scenario play out time and time again AND sometimes I have been guilty of it myself; talking louder to someone who doesn't speak the same language. But more about that later. I was taking the trash out last Saturday morning (yes, I was wearing lounge pants) when I heard a delivery truck turn the corner into the neighborhood. But it didn't keep going and in a split second, I thought it stopped nearby and maybe I might be able to meet a stranger. So I run through the garage, through the kitchen and toward the front door and as I dart pass Chris he asks, "Where are you going?" I said, "I think someone across the street is getting a delivery and I am going to go meet a stranger!" And as he was say, "What?" I was out the door. Looked right - no delivery truck. Look left - no delivery truck. Over to the north side of the house.....voilà....a delivery van from Mattress Land. By the time that I got to the van - a pristine white (looked to be about queen size) mattress and box springs wrapped in plastic were being unloaded from the back by two men. The gentleman closest to me had just taken out his handkerchief and was wiping his brow when I extended my hand and started my spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna..." He switched his handkerchief to his other hand and extended his hand. We were shaking hands and he was smiling, but not one word. We just kept shaking hands. Then the gentleman at the other end of the mattress finally said something,"His name is R$&+AU." Of course, I had no idea what he said so I said, "I'm sorry, what is his name?" He moves closer to me and extends his hand to shake my hand and he begins to talk really loud - almost yelling at me, "MY NAME IS ELIA AND HIS NAME IS REFUSE." Huh?? Does he think that because he said it louder and slower that I would understand what he said?? So I think to myself - his name is trash??? Well that can't be right so I slowly and loudly repeat, "REFUSE?" And Elia shakes his heads no. Again, but this time even slower and louder Elia says, "RE FU G IO." Well of course, Refugio. How did I not get that the first time?!?!?! After an awkward pause of silence, I bid them a good day and bounced back across the street to our house.

I walked in the front door and Chris asked me, "Where did you go?" I said, "I went to meet a stranger." Chris: "Dressed like that?" Donna: "Yup." Chris: "Where?" Donna: "Across the street - the people who moved into Jensen's old house was having a mattress delivered so I met the Mattress Land delivery guys." Chris: "What were their names?" Donna: "ELIA AND REFUGIO." Chris: "Why are you yelling?" Donna: "Because the Latino man, Elia, thought that if he talked slower and louder, at me, that I would understand what the other guy's name." Chris: "Did you?" Donna laughs: "Finally, but it was funny because it was the reverse of what you normally see happen. I think he thought I was stupid." Chris: "He probably wondered why you are wearing your candy striped pajamas bottoms, purple flip flops, and a brown fleece zipper jacket."

Come to think of it......I thought I heard him say, Senora es loca en la cabeza (Lady is crazy in the head) as I walked away........LIKE I HAVEN'T HEARD THAT BEFORE. (LOL)

Road Kill, Grandpa Potts, and the Shangri-Las

After I was done with carpool duty this morning, I glided into the gas station on a prayer and fumes - I have a 16 gallon tank and put in a little over 16 gallons. (And, no - I was not in my pajamas -I know that you were wondering). It was such beautiful morning and quite frankly, it turned out to be such a glorious day that I had most of the downstairs windows open all day. But back to this morning. I was done pumping gas, over to the trash can to rip my receipt up into teeny-tiny pieces (can't be too careful these days), back in my car to re-set the trip meter and then I saw him pull into the 7-11 parking lot. It was as if everything started to move in slow motion and someone cued the song by the Shangri-Las - The Leader of the Pack. Vroom. Vroom. He rode in on a shiny, black bike and you could tell that when he rode - he owned the road. I knew that I had to meet him - a mystery man who was dressed from head to toe in black leather. Black boots, black gloves, black jacket, open faced helmet with a wisp of hair peeking out. I pull my car away from the pump and drove around the backside of the pumps. Parked my car next to the "pay-for-air" pump; looked in my mirror, straightened my hair and put in a piece of gum to freshen my breath. I waited until he got off his bike and as I neared, he turned toward me and smiled (I bet he did that to all the girls).....I knew he was the right stranger to meet today. Standing face to face, he pulled up his goggles and they came to rest right above his eye brows and the clearest blue eyes were staring back at me. I extended my hand and gave him my spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna..." and he said, "My name is Fred. My friends call me Road Kill." I felt as if I didn't know him well enough to call him by his nickname so I said, "Are you heading to work today, Fred; or out for a pleasure ride?" "Actually, I am headed to the doctor's," said Fred. And I complimented him on his bike. Fred told me that it was pretty new and that "I won the money to pay for it at WinStar Casino." He continued by saying, "I have been studying which kind to get for about three years and after I won the money - I decided that I would go out and get it." I told him, "That is a great gift." And with great pride, he pointed to the Harley accessories that adorned his bike. I nodded, like biker chicks do in the movies, and said, "Nice." I knew that Fred needed to get gas and back out on the road, so I bid him "Happy Motoring", but before I turned to walk away - he asked me one more time what my name was -I gleamed back, "Donna." I got into my car and took one more glance at Fred, who was putting his wallet, that was attached to a chain, into his back pocket. I smiled. I was glad that I had not done carpool duty in my lounge pants today. OH MY GOODNESS, there is one thing that I forgot to tell you about Fred - how could I forget..................Fred was about 70 years young and he looked like Grandpa Potts (Lionel Jeffries) from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Cue the Shangri-Las...."I never forget him (the leader of the pack).

March Madness, Memphis Style-BBQ and Robert Earl Keen

I have to be honest with you - I have been remiss about updating you on strangers and I am here to re-confirm, right here and right now that I will be updating again on a daily basis. There I said it!!!

So I will start with today's stranger and work backwards until I am caught up. I had lunch with Trish today and we decided to eat BBQ at Red, Hot, and Blue. Nothing says springtime in Dallas more than good BBQ. We both went with the pulled pork sandwich - mine with potato salad; hers with a baked sweet potato and both got a side of cole slaw. I do love a "Memphis-style" pulled pork sandwich so I whipped off the top part of the bun and dumped my cole slaw right on top of the pork and smushed the top part of the bun back on and took a Paula Deen size bite of sandwich. Yumbo!!! An hour later as we finished, I surveyed the crowd for stranger. It was hard to choose....everyone in the restaurant seemed to be in a great mood. I sure it had something to do with the fact that the temperature was up in the 60's today while just yesterday we had 5 inches of snow. As Trish and I moved through the restaurant toward the back door, I spotted my stranger at the take-out counter; unwrapped a peppermint and popped it into my mouth and neared a big guy wearing a sweat jacket with a stocking cap propped on top of his head was talking to another lady at the take away counter. We waited until they had finished their conversation and I extended my hand and said, "Hi, my name is Donna".....and I continued my spiel and before I was done - I was shaking hands with Troy. I asked if he was picking an order for he and co-workers and he said, "No, just myself." And then he asked my what had for lunch and I said, "Pulled pork sandwich with potato salad and I ate it all. What did you order?" Troy told me that he had ordered, "Ribs and sausage." "Oh, I love sausage," I said. And went one step further when I pointed at myself and laughed with a "I'm kinda built like sausage. Good Polish/German blood....you have to love sausage!!" I wished Troy a great day and he extended his hand again and said, "Thank you for letting me be your stranger of the day." I shook back and said, "No, thank you." With that Trish and I were out the door, hugged each other good bye, wished each other good luck with our respective universities' goal to make it to the Final 2 of the NCAA March Madness tournament, and promised to talk to each other before the week was out.

I rolled the windows down, put on my sunglasses and turned up the radio. Yes, I was the one you saw singing and dancing in my car. A quick shout out to Robert Earl Keen who wrote a song titled "Barbeque" and with the refrain of:

Barbeque, sliced beef and bread

Ribs and sausage and a cold big red

Barbeque makes old ones feel young

Barbeque makes everybody someone

Hey Troy, Trish, and Robert Earl Keen - next time I am getting sausage and ribs!!!