Donna's Daily Box of Whine

Day 2: Banana Walnut Chocolate Chip Cookies and a Tacky Sweater

2011-12-14T14:18:00.000-06:00

Along with baking Banana Walnut Chocolate Chip Cookies and I am also putting together a "tacky" Christmas sweater for Gray to wear to youth group tonight. I was I looking for a way to use my ripe banana's or as my kids call them, "rotten banana's" other than making banana bread so I decided on this cookie recipe. Of course, I am going to have to modify this recipe since I don't have wheat flour that it calls for and with it raining outside - I will just bump up my white flour usage....can't image that could wreck the recipe. And I don't have regular walnuts so I am going to have to use the glazed walnuts that I bought to go into a salad that I never made. Have you ever tried to chop glazed walnuts? They don't chop well. So instead - I beat them up with a full water bottle....perfect broken glazed walnut pieces.

All ingredients mixed and ready to bake for 12-13 minutes at 375. First batch at 12 minutes; second batch at 13 minutes; third batch at 14 minutes and finally last batch at 15 minutes - just the right amount of baking time. This is the trial and error part of baking. Quality control on two batches (means I ate two cookies) indicates think that I will add an extra banana next time. There is a hint of banana, but not enough for me. Lots of chocolate chips and just the right amount of oatmeal. The extra white flour didn't seem to make a difference nor did the glazed walnuts. These cookies are a "cake-y" type of cookie and reminds me of the oatmeal cookies that my mom used to make minus the chocolate chips, walnuts and banana.

In between batches - I am modifying one of my old sweaters into a tacky Christmas sweater. I took a black/white and green sweater added a giant red bow with gold dots at the top. And with safety pins in hand, I took 12 items off our Christmas tree and attached them to the sweater: icicles, a handmade wreath ornament, a Grinch ornament, pieces of holly and a snowman. She is also going to take a strand of lights and wear them wrapped around her arm. She will be quite the sight!!!

Day 1: Skillet Baked Apple Pie

2011-12-12T12:43:00.000-06:00

My first recipe is from Southern Living (September 2011 issue) and it was submitted by Mrs. James Wright from Chattanooga, TN. I envision Mrs. Wright as a true Southern woman in her true Southern home. I am sure she goes to the beauty shop on Saturday and has a nice Southern lady hairdo while I have my hair pulled back in a lazy braid. She cooks while wearing her pearl necklace that was presented to her at her debutante presentation party; polished nails, neatly pressed full or half apron; a blouse that coordinates nicely with season, black skirt (she would never be caught dead in a pair of pants unless of course she was gardening) and these season's must have low heeled shoes. I on the other hand am "fresh faced" (the new buzz word for no make-up). white Hanes t-shirt that is too big, blue jeans which at times doubles as a towel, and sock monkey slippers. Polar opposites with the same goal in mind - baking a dessert with loving hands for her family.

The recipe is simple enough. Apples (Braeburn and Granny Smith), granulated sugar, brown sugar, butter, 2 package pie crusts and one egg white. What could go wrong??? I pray nothing!! First up -need to peel the apples.  Chefs on television peel an apple easily and as one long continuous peel. I heard Jacques Pepin interviewed and he said something to the effect of "One of the first things you learn is to peel apple and a proper chef will not have the peel break while peeling." I picture small girls and boys all over France practicing peeling apples and getting beaten with day old baguettes when the peel breaks. Ouch. I do well enough with the Granny Smith apples, but when I turn my attention to the highly waxed Braeburn's - my peeling goes awry. They are so waxy that I can only manage to get small pieces of peel to budge.  Bits of peel starting going everywhere except into the bowl I was using. Peel begins to flying out of the bowl and onto the counter top, onto the floor which makes Timmy very happy, sticking to my hand and my shirt. Eight apples later and I am done. Maybe next time I will leave the peels on. Melt butter, dissolve sugar in cast-iron skillet, add one pie crust to bottom of skillet; add apples with sugar and cinnamon; top with remaining .  Vent with 4 slits for steam - bake for 1 hour 10 minutes or until golden and bubbly. Into the oven it goes and I settle down to a cup of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. It is a this point, that I smell something.

Not the aroma of fresh baked apples and cinnamon, but something burning. Yup you guessed it - I forgot to place my cast-iron skillet on an baking sheet to catch the gooey bubbly sugar mixture. And what to my wondering eyes does appear, but a very small contained fire in the bottom of my oven. CRAP......need to pull the pie out.  Usually that can be done quickly and with ease, but not this time. This time I almost drop it because it a cast-iron skillet that requires both hands. Pie out, fire out, and pie back in the oven to finish baking. I think I will start my blog.

Just pulled the pie from the oven. Smells great and looks great. Of course the oven does not and I will have to clean it once it cools down....shrug.   It will have to cool for 30 minutes before I can cut into it so for now I will go back to my newspaper and coffee. And a final note about the apple peels.....they must have also gone into my coffee - I just swallowed a piece of peel. I bet Mrs. James Wright never drank an apple peel in her coffee - I guess I should be thankful I wasn't making liverwurst.

I still grieve - My story from the 5 year anniversay

2011-09-11T12:07:00.001-05:00

I always thought that I would title this article “How to go to New York with only $27….oh….and only have a passport for identification and survive Armageddon.” Believe it or not, it can be done. Although I am not sure I would recommend this approach to anyone, and I am fairly certain that the Travel Channel would not pick up this concept and begin a new television series.
They, the philosophers and pundits of the world, always say that you find an inner strength deep within yourself during a crisis and it is supposed to prepare you for something else in your life.…I don’t know - maybe….Here is my story:
I was working for a Big 4 accounting firm in Dallas providing international expatriate administration to our clients and as a senior expatriate representative I had been asked to go to New York to meet with one of our clients to brainstorm current processes and complete a gap analysis to improve service. My flight was the afternoon of Monday, September 10th – Dallas to Newark. No worries, except for the fact that I was again running late to catch a flight and if the traffic gods smiled upon me, I would get to the airport with about 20 minutes to spare, just enough time to get checked-in and get on the plane. I was driving out of downtown Dallas at a mere 80 mph trying to make up every minute of the 20 minutes I had lost by leaving the office late. Since I am a cheapskate, I decided I would leave my car at the Park and Fly and be dropped off at the door. All systems go – made up a few minutes – I was at the gate. I showed my passport for id, hopped on the plane and off to Newark I went.
The gods WERE watching over me! No crazy, “so what do you do for a living,” guy next to me on the plane. I had never been to the east coast before; I was left on the plane with three hours to paint a picture in my mind of what the concrete jungle called New York City might look like. As we descended, the plane came in over the Central Park area, which is not typical, but the plane had to be diverted due to thunderstorms in the DC area. I distinctly remember looking down and thinking, “This may not be so bad.” We landed at Newark without incident. As I went to get my rental car, I realized that in my haste to make up time in Dallas at the Park and Fly, my wallet had fallen out of my backpack. I had no drivers’ license, no credit cards, no money – in short – I was screwed! They would not rent a car to me with only a passport and believe it or not they make you have a drivers’ license to rent a car. After I stopped screaming at myself for being irresponsible, I quickly jumped on my cell phone and called my co-worker back in Dallas and had her book a cab with her credit card to pick me up at the Newark airport. My hotel had already been booked with my credit card; therefore, all I had to do was show id upon arrival. As I pondered aloud “this stinks,” I also started to laugh because if it could happen it would happen to me and won’t this be a great story to tell when I came home. My brain started kicking into overdrive as I devised a plan…if my wallet was still by my car, I could have my husband go pick it up and Fed-ex it to me in the morning. I would have it by Wednesday morning, again, no worries. I thought to myself who needs a back-up plan when you are so good off the cuff. After much cussing and discussing with my husband, he went to the Park and Fly and found my wallet lying on the ground outside of my car. Yes!!! Everything was falling into place, he would Fed-Ex my wallet Tuesday morning to the hotel and I would be good to go as soon as Wednesday. This trip was falling into place. With only $27 dollars shoved into the bottom of my backpack, I decided room service was the best way to go – add it to the bill and I would take care of it later when my wallet arrived.

Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001 – it was refreshing to wake up and have a crisp morning greet me. It was a far cry from the less than fall-like weather I had left in Texas. But I had no worries, the client contact picked me up around 7:15 a.m. and we were there by 8:30 a.m. I remember as we were driving into the city, I turned to the client and I said, “This is much prettier than I thought it was going to be….that is a beautiful skyline and my God can it get it better? Look, there is not a cloud in the sky this morning.” She said, “Yes, it can be very beautiful.” Either too distracted by traffic or incensed that she had been asked to chauffeur me back and forth; she opted not to engage in meaningful conversation about the beauty of the skyline and/or the meteorological phenomenon of a cloudless morning. Nevertheless, I thought to myself “wow, this city may have potential after all.” Upon arriving at the building, I had no clue that in less than 45 minutes Armageddon would descend upon the city in biblical proportions similar to what I had only heard in Sunday sermons as a child.
This is the part of my story where the events start happening as if someone was standing with camera and constantly hitting the flash button. It’s not a fluid state of mind, but bits and pieces flashed at me as if I had entered a haunted house designed to disorient all those who enter.
Flash - we were in conference room on the ground floor, with no windows, for our meeting. A less than composed woman opened the door and said “I think that you guys need to stop your meeting come upstairs.” Being a bit incensed, but curious as to why I was being asked to stop – I shook my head with the “this better be good” motion and we followed her upstairs to the lobby. I remember passing people who seemed as if they were talking about their vacations – I heard – New York, Washington, D.C. and I thought, “Good god, you live here why don’t you go somewhere else for vacation?” Of course it was later that I realized they weren’t talking about their vacations.
Flash - there is a mass of people standing around the receptionist’s desk looking at the television. I see the smoking World Trade Center towers on TV and I ask out loud to no one in particular, “does this happen a lot here – planes flying into buildings?” Someone responded, “Not planes this big!” Someone added, “Let’s go the cafeteria – you can see the towers from up there,” – so we went. It was as if we didn’t believe what we were seeing on television and if we saw it with our own eyes it would somehow help validate that this was really happening. It was an unbelievable amount of smoke that could be seen from our vantage point.
Flash - we are back downstairs looking at the towers on TV and that’s when the first tower collapsed. Gasps throughout the lobby followed by sobbing from men and women alike. At that moment, the fear of, my god – I might die today, came over me. I asked for the nearest phone and someone said – “don’t bother, the land lines are jammed.” I thought to myself, “Jammed my ass, I am going to find a phone and call home to tell someone that I am okay right now.” I quickly walked to the mailroom and I grabbed the phone. I called my mom and confirmed that I was okay. No time to talk, I had to try to make another call, but lines were busy. I couldn’t get through to my husband so I called my mother-in-law; I told her, “get a hold my husband and let him know that I am okay.” While I was on the telephone with her – the second tower collapsed.
Flash - I knew that my circuits were moving into overload and my survival instinct had kicked in. I needed to get out of there – I needed to get to a safe place. Minor detail – no car – how do I get out? Someone said, “I can take you back to your hotel, but we need to leave now.” You didn’t have to ask me twice, I grabbed my backpack and we headed for the door. I was completely unprepared as we walked out the front door. The noise was deafening – SIRENS - fire trucks, ambulances, police, and car alarms – there must have been hundreds of them and it was as if there was a contest of who could drown out the other and no one was winning so they just kept blaring. I realized that people are yelling to each other…”Good Luck – go, God Bless – go, Let me know when you get home – go”. It was the most surreal thing, and I don’t even remember getting into the car.
Flash - I knew that my circuits were moving into overload and my survival instinct had kicked in. I needed to get out of there – I needed to get to a safe place. Minor detail – no car – how do I get out? Someone said, “I can take you back to your hotel, but we need to leave now.” You didn’t have to ask me twice, I grabbed my backpack and we headed for the door. I was completely unprepared as we walked out the front door. The noise was deafening – SIRENS - fire trucks, ambulances, police, and car alarms – there must have been hundreds of them and it was as if there was a contest of who could drown out the other and no one was winning so they just kept blaring. I realized that people are yelling to each other…”Good Luck – go, God Bless – go, Let me know when you get home – go”. It was the most surreal thing, and I don’t even remember getting into the car.
Flash - The car I was in, along with everyone else who could drive were driving as fast as they could. Through residential areas, through parking lots – everyone was in survival mode, need to leave now and need to leave fast. Cars passed us like we are standing still and I know that we were going at least 80 mph. I looked at the faces of those drivers as they passed and they were frantic. They were determined and they all had tears rolling down their faces. We flew through the toll plaza – no time to pay – must get out. Hell, I don’t even know if there was anyone manning the booths anyway. As I turned around to look out the back window – I noticed that the beautiful skyline that was so worthy of commentary earlier that morning is no longer there – in its place is an angry, black plume of smoke which is getting wider and longer with every minute. I had hoped that it would diminish the further that we drove, but it didn’t. It was as if it was trying to say, don’t leave me! Don’t forget about me! Don’t you see me? I did see it and I was nauseous.
Flash - I was at the hotel and the first thing that I did was walk straight into the bar and ask for a shot of Tuaca. No Tuaca – great – “what do you have?” “Frangelica or hard whiskey,” the barkeep replied. “Give me the Frangelica.” I slammed it and noticed the bar was packed with people – its lunchtime where did all of the people come from? They were the ones who couldn’t get home, pulled over and decided to wait it out at the closest hotel. I went up to my room. I could see the black smoke from my window – I closed the drapes. I fell onto the bed and turned on the TV – and it was happening – it’s not a dream. According to the TV, all planes were grounded. I was nauseous – I went back to the bar – nothing like another shot to calm a puking gut.
Flash - I walked outside; I could not bear the thought of going back into my room. But this time when I walked outside, I was not met with the deafening sounds of sirens – I was met the deafening sounds of silence. There were no cars on the road, no birds, no wind , no overhead noise, no nothing and for a split second – I thought to myself…this is what it sounds like to be the one person left on earth. I walked around the hotel and the only sound that I heard was myself breathing and I was still amazed by the beautiful sky, except for the damn black smoke.
Flash – it was dusk and I had finally come to realize that I was trapped in hell with no id and only $27 dollars. I was sleeping with my clothes and shoes on because I was afraid that it was not over and then I heard them – planes in the sky – crap it was happening again and I panicked. The TV mentioned nothing about airplanes in the sky and I thought everything was grounded. I called home; I screamed and pleaded with my husband to get me out of there. There were planes in the sky….it was going to happen again. After he calmed me down, he told me that the planes in the sky were the National Guard and other fighters flying over the area to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again. I heard what he said, but I was not sure I was completely buying it. I went back to the original plan; I slept with my clothes and shoes on.
Flash - morning came without incident, except for the fact that I had tossed and turned with my shoes on all night; I didn’t do anything but watch TV and stare out the window at the smoke. Then it happened, it was something that will haunt me the rest of my life and I was nauseous. My hotel room window was in the same direction as the wind was blowing and on the outside of my window, collecting in the corners and across the bottom were ashes. Ashes from the building, ashes from the smoke, ashes from people who had died. The windows didn’t open so the ashes of dead people gathered at my window and as the day passed, more gathered.
I laid in the fetal position in the middle of the bed and drifted in and out of sleep for the remainder of the day.
Flash – it was Thursday and I walked to our sister office, which is about two miles away…I feel like I am being followed….I am….it is the damn smoke. I worked in order to have a distraction. There was nowhere to go – no planes were flying, buses were completely filled, trains were oversold and no rental cars to be had for hundreds of miles. I was a hostage in hell and I had to patiently wait until the gatekeeper decided it is okay to open the airports again.
Flash - it was Friday and there was a glimmer of hope that I might get out that evening. Hope was dashed as some yahoo breached security at the Newark airport and it was shut down again. Another day in hell and more people were gathering at my window…..I had to get out of there or I might have gone insane.
Flash – it was Saturday, the airport was open; however, all passengers were required to arrive 3 hours before departure. If it would have been 8 hours– I would have stood there. I entered the airport and I was met with the National Guardsman armed with rifles, police with guns and police dogs everywhere. No one spoke a word – the weary had lined up to go home and I was one of them. I still had the $27 dollars stashed in the bottom of my bag and I managed to remember that when a parent leaves on a trip – you have to bring home a gift – even if you have been to hell. I found two small demitasse cups with the skyline on it or should I say the old skyline on it…it fit in my limited budget and fulfilled the gift bearing role….I made my purchase and headed to the gate. There was so much speculation on the television of who could have done this to the US that those who would have never garnered an additional glance were those who were now met with long stares of trepidation. I found myself staring longer and making mental notes of passengers in case I needed to recall it later as evidence. Everyone became a suspect until we all boarded onto the plane and were seated. We were just a group of people trying to get to our safe places in life – our non-hell places that we had been in. I was sitting next to the window when two older women sat down next to me – they flashed a weary grin and we acknowledged through our smiles, “yes we are leaving and it will be over soon.” I welcomed their presence and I told them so. I also told them that there were two soap opera stars on the plane from All My Children and the gentleman in the row in front of us was one of them. Neither watched All My Children nor was truly impressed; however, they did find it humorous when I mentioned that should the plane go down, I would be jumping over the seat in order to plant a full mouth on mouth kiss with him before impact. A little levity, a quiet giggle – it was good medicine.
We landed without incident in Dallas and when the plane touched down – the entire plane erupted in applause for the Captain. There was no rushing to get out of the plane. There was a deliberate purpose to our exiting – we, each one of us, stopped to thank the Captain and the crew for our safe arrival….and if only for a moment the arrival in Dallas was, as if, we landed in the Garden of Eden.
The first anniversary was very difficult. Images, documentaries, commentaries, monologues, dialogues – puking. I wrote the following on the morning of the first anniversary:
Towers strong & steady
Glistening in the sunrise –
A stunning sight unseen before.
Towers smoking, sirens blaring;
Not a cloud in the sky.
Towers heaving and breathing
Last breaths
Steel falling
And souls rising
An eerie blanket of silence
Coldness on a warm day
Ashes of souls gather at my window – silently
Waiting for the tears of a nation to release them.
And a nation still grieves.

As the fifth anniversary arrives, I have written my story. To confirm, I am not sure I still understand why I was supposed to be there, but I have come to realize that like so many others on that day, I was just an ordinary per¬son, inserted into an extraordinary situation.

Day 6: Ricotta Orange Pound Cake

2010-12-10T13:28:00.002-06:00

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

2010-12-09T14:16:00.002-06:00

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

2010-12-08T18:32:00.003-06:00

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

2010-12-08T16:41:00.003-06:00

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......

2010-12-04T20:17:00.005-06:00

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

2010-12-03T19:33:00.004-06:00

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

2010-05-11T11:38:00.004-05:00

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

2010-05-05T20:22:00.005-05:00

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......

2010-05-03T16:10:00.009-05:00

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

2010-04-29T19:03:00.004-05:00

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

2010-04-29T13:38:00.013-05:00

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

2010-04-19T20:10:00.004-05:00

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

2010-04-16T23:05:00.008-05:00

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

2010-04-15T22:29:00.004-05:00

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

2010-04-13T19:30:00.004-05:00

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)

2010-04-13T17:19:00.016-05:00

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

2010-04-13T15:24:00.003-05:00

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

2010-04-09T15:02:00.003-05:00

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

2010-04-08T23:06:00.003-05:00

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

2010-04-07T22:13:00.007-05:00

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

2010-04-06T20:48:00.009-05:00

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

2010-04-02T20:21:00.008-05:00

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

2010-04-01T21:18:00.005-05:00

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

2010-03-31T22:48:00.003-05:00

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

2010-03-30T21:17:00.005-05:00

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

2010-03-29T19:57:00.005-05:00

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

2010-03-28T17:54:00.003-05:00

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

2010-03-25T16:56:00.006-05:00

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

2010-03-24T13:30:00.006-05:00

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

2010-03-23T21:49:00.006-05:00

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

2010-03-22T16:53:00.005-05:00

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!!!

Hooters, A Hair Dresser, and Shuffleboard

2010-03-19T12:59:00.005-05:00

I was back at the A1 Sportsman Taxidermy shop, having my photo taken for the Dallas Morning News article, when a guy dropped into the shop. Steve of A1 Taxidermy fame and owner, was eating a late lunch and with a bite of BBQ in his mouth asked if he could help him. The stranger, replied, "I have always passed by here and thought I would just drop in and see what it was like inside." I looked at Steve, "Huh, just like me", I said. "Happens all the time," Steve mumbled. Well this was my invitation to meet the stranger. So with extended hand, I gave him my spiel and I met Shawn. Shawn looked a bit out of place in the shop and I asked if he had ever been hunting. He told me he had been in the Army and, "Let's put it this way - I have never shot an animal." He smiled. I paused and then shuttered. He went on to explain that he was going on his first animal hunting trip next month with some buddies. I told him, "My husband is a Marine." And he countered, "I'm sorry." Fair enough and I said, "He would probably would be offering his condolences to you." Shawn told me that he was one of the Vice-Commander's at the Mesquite American Legion which was just down and across the street. He had been over at the Legion. Later this month, the Legion was going to honor a fallen soldier from Mesquite with a plaque and a ceremony for his family. That was cool and I said so. However, Shawn didn't strike me as a solider or Vice Commander - he was dressed in 1980ish OP type shorts and hair longer than standard regulation. I asked if he was still serving and he told me, "No, I am a hairdresser now." To myself, I think.....how do you make that leap and do I really want to know? And for several minutes as I am pondering the soldier/hairdresser visual; I hear him invite Steve to come over for cheap beer. And then with a straight deadpan delivery Shawn tells us, "We sell more beer than Hooters!" and "Oh, we have shuffleboard tournaments." Picture this......had I been drinking any beverage or had snot in my nose, at this point, it would have shot out of my nostrils that would have rivaled Old Faithful; instead I tried to stifle a full belly laugh. I shot a look over to Steve and he rolled his eyes. I said, "Really?!?" and Shawn said, "You bet." He then said that we wanted to offer the Marine to "Come over anytime" so I told him that Chris was outside. I thanked Shawn for being able to meet him and he strolled out the door. Steve was the first to break the weirdness of silence, that followed as Shawn left, with a laugh and said, "That's your stranger and don't forget to mention that they sell more beer than Hooters!!!" "Oh, I will make sure I mention Hooters and I won't forget about the shuffleboard tournament," I giggled.

If you are in the area (and have served in the military) stop by the Mesquite American Legion, Post #504 and have beer. Canteen hours are Monday - Friday and Sunday, 12pm-Midnight and Saturday, 12pm - 1am. You may want to call ahead. I am sure, since they sell more beer than Hooter's - they will be busy.

Clorox Wipes, Interview, and Rice

2010-03-12T11:37:00.004-06:00

I usually go out into the community to meet my strangers, but this stranger came to my house. I received a call from Steve Blow from The Dallas Morning News and he wanted to interview me for an article. I told him that I was flexible for a time and place - he suggested a time and then suggested that we meet at my house. Oh, ok....I quickly offered up an alternative location, "We can meet at Starbucks, if you would rather." "Oh, no...your house is on my way home so I can just stop by there and then head on home," he said. Gulp. "Perfect," I said. And the he adds, "No need to do anything special; don't get crazy and feel like you have to clean your house." And then sounding like a Disney dwarf, I said, "Ha ha, I won't." I hang up the phone and morph into Rosie, the robot maid, from The Jetsons. You know the episode where Rosie is in hyper-drive and spinning out of control until she blows a gasket and whirls herself into a metal heap. What to do first??? Caffeine. Two giant gulps of coffee. Note to self....next time, let the Chernobyl coffee cool slightly before gulping. The kitchen and breakfast nook floor looks a wreck from the recent rains and from where I have been painting the walls (yes, I know I was painting the walls this summer, but since we are going to pull up the floor - I didn't use a drop cloth). In retrospect, thank goodness I used a latex, but the floors have to be last. Touch up the downstairs bathroom, just in case. Wipe down the cabinets, pantry doors, and fridge. Unload dishwasher, load dishes. Table knife in hand, I get down on my knees (hold the laughter and jokes) and scrape up the areas of dropped paint. Hhhmmm, I don't recall "dropping" this much paint, but there I am crawling around the floor popping up paint splatters. Another note to self, knees are 48 years old - next time use a drop cloth. I looked like a panda bear all appendages extended and rolling over onto my bum so I could hoist myself up. Next mop the floor - ugh. I hate getting the mop out so I got crafty. I had Clorox wipes under the kitchen cabinet so I rubber-banded them to my Crocs (again stop laughing - they are comfortable) and I walked around the floor; changing out the wipes when they were leaving more dirt than picking up and moving on to the next section of the floor. I liken this process to the instructions on shampoo - lather, rinse, repeat.....secure, shuffle, repeat. On to vacuuming the carpets - uneventful. Light a couple candles and Febreeze the be-gibbers out of the entire downstairs. Ready for visitors...an illusion that would make David Cooperfield proud.

Door bell rings and I am shaking hands with Steve Blow. We exchange pleasantries in the foyer and we move toward the the kitchen table. The one thing that took me back was how tall he is. My husband, Chris comments to the fact and Steve says, "I get that a lot." His by-line photo doesn't really give you much so here are some the of the extras....tall and lean, wearing a blazer with jeans, trendy glasses. We sit down at the kitchen table and begin talking about my New Years' Resolution, how it came about, and the strangers that I have met so far. Then I see it. Right there in front of him; to the left of his tape recorder...... a small grain of brown rice from dinner the night before. Are you kidding me???? I thought I had wiped down the table last night and now I can not keep my eyes off this tiny piece of rice. And every time Steve asks me a questions, I answer and then my eyes dart quickly back to the rice. Similar to shampoo and floor instructions: question asked, question answered, look at rice, repeat. We finish the interview; Steve tells me that he will get with the photographer and give me a call with where to meet and the time. Again, I thank Steve and he in return thanks me. Once back in the house, I tell Chris that it didn't even feel like an interview. Huh, I guess that is a sign of a good journalist. I wonder what the article will be like?? Then I remember the piece of rice. Grab it , inspect in that little distraction, throw it in the trash. Sounds like a good set of instructions.

Buddha and a Bag of Poo

2010-03-09T19:35:00.006-06:00

If you own an animal with long hair, you know it has begun.......shedding season. And our dog, Timmy is no different. So when it gets to the point that the vacuum cleaner cannot keep up with the mountains of hair - it is time to get the dog groomed. Off to the groomers we went for his summer do (the dog crew cut). When we picked him up, we noticed that he had a small lump on his shoulder that wasn't there last summer and since he had a tumor removed from his mouth a couple of years ago - I was concerned. I made an appointment with our vet, Dr. Gregor. You probably already know this, but finding a vet is like finding a dentist, auto mechanic, or hair stylist. Once you find one that you like - you keep them. Dr. Gregor's office is 20 miles away, but I wouldn't trust another vet with Timmy. Just like at the human doctor, we have to wait to see the vet and this is when the funny part of the visit happens. A lady comes in with her dog; a small hairy dog that wasn't memorable, unlike the big beautiful golden retriever who greeted us at the door with his owner. The small hairy dog is there to get groomed or boarded or maybe both - I couldn't really tell. The staff takes the dog back and the owner leaves, or so I thought. About three or four minutes after I thought she left, she came back in and I hear her ask if they had a trash can. One of the girls behind the desk says "yes" and picks up the trash can from under the desk and holds it up. And hair dog owner, says, "Oh, she was nervous in the car and had an accident - can you take this for me?" Staff girl hesitates and I swear I see her shutter and quickly decides this should not go in the under the desk trash can. She takes it from her and goes in the back. What do you think that she gave her to get rid of???? Yup, you guessed it....she literally handed her a sack of dog poo!!! Really?!?!?! I think to myself, "You couldn't take your dog's crap home and put it in your own trash?!?!?!" Shocked - I know that my mouth must have gaped open like a hippo coming up for air. I have never seen anyone walk into a business and ask the person behind the desk to dispose of a sack of poo. And with a slight smile, staff girl takes the sack of poo and goes through the door to the back. Hairy dog owner leaves. Oh, not so quick, she is back for round two. This time she comes back in with some loose tissues and then says, "Do you have some anti-bacterial hand sanitizer I could use?" Shonna, one of the staff ladies, slowly pulls it out with a slight scowl hands it over to hairy dog owner. Three pump of the hand sanitizer and hairy dog owner is gone. Unbelievable.

Timmy gets called into exam room 4 and I am shaking hands with and meeting Justin who, appears to be in his early 20's and, is the vet tech. They give Tim his exam and at first blush - they think it is just lipoma. In non-vet terminology, a fat deposit. But to be sure, they want to take a sample and look at it under the microscope. They take a sample of the tumor, smear the sample on the slide and take it back and put it under the microscope. Less than 15 minutes, back to give us the results.....fat deposit and we just need to watch it. Here, for a few minutes, is where I get on my soap box. Why can a vet run a test and get a result in 15 minutes and when a human goes to the doctor it takes a follow-up appointment to have a biopsy taken, another 1 week to have the results read, another three days before your doctor calls you back with the results??? This is a head scratcher for me. I understand human vs. canine, but medically aren't the disease states pretty much the same??? And if so, why does it take 10 days for humans to get their results.....grrr......one of the many unanswered questions of the universe.

So what did I learn????

1. My maternal grandmother, God rest her soul, was not so kooky when she decided to use a vet for her medical issues as well as her dogs medical issues;

2. My Buddha butt and gut are lipoma (oh, that does sound better) - not fat and;

3. You can hand someone a sack of crap and they will take it.

A Composition Book, Diamond, and The Wandering Gnomes

2010-02-24T17:40:00.011-06:00

Have you ever parked your car and forget where you parked it??? No, not after pulling a bar bender, but just going to the grocery store??? More of that in a few minutes.

You know how kids are - or at least my kids. "Hey mom, I'm gonna need a composition book for school tomorrow." And you wonder to yourself, why didn't you tell me this sooner? So off to Wal-Mart to get a composition book. (Just a side bar, when did they start calling them "Composition Books?" I thought they were just notebooks? Hhhmm, I must be getting old.) Anyway, we get the composition book along with eight other items and head to the check out. Luckily, we meet the requirements for the express checkout lane. In and out in record time and we come to a complete halt. Up ahead is that one person who tries to charge; their card doesn't go through and then they dig around in their purse to find enough pocket change to pay for their summer sausage, wheat thins, and beer...oh bother. So while the great penny search continues, I take inventory of the shoppers standing in line. And in one lane over; I watched it happen.

There was a lady, in one of those scooter carts, who was trying unload her cart when all of a sudden a gal from further back in the line came up and finished unloading the cart for her. I knew right then and there that I wanted to meet her. Our nine items sacked and paid for, I tell Gray to hold on a minute because I wanted to go meet this lady. She only nodded. The entire time that we were at Wal-Mart she had been on the phone talking to one of her friends. Head-to-toe snapshot: nice shoulder-length wig, short cropped jacket with fur-lined hood, brown leggings (maybe a bit too small), and flip flops. I extended my hand and I said, "My name is Donna and I saw what you just did." She looked at me quizzically and I continued by saying, "I saw you unload that lady's groceries and I wanted to thank-you for be kind." She finally extended her hand and said her name. I said, "Oh, Diana it is nice to meet you." She corrected me and said, "It's Diamond." Okay-dokey....I am sure this the first and only Diamond I have ever met. I asked her why she did that. She said, "Because she needed help." I nodded and said, "Well I noticed and I just wanted to say thank-you." How refreshing to see a neighbor helping a neighbor and I am not sure I would have believed it if I wouldn't have seen it with my own eyes. I walked back over to Gray and finally off the phone, she asked why I went over there. I re-told her what I saw and laughing she told me, "That lady looked scared when you walked over to her." "Really?", I said. And she said, "Oh yeah." I guess it might appear sort-of odd to have a stranger walk up to you and have them tell you their name. I shrug and momentarily ponder the thought and then tell Gray, We gotta go."

Out the door and to the car. Just one hitch - I can not for the life of me remember where I parked. Yes, I became that person.....the wandering gnome with grocery sacks. In and out of cars, up and down the rows. Gray is embarrassed and walking about 15 feet behind me and the more I walk....the more dumb-founded I become. Where the heck did I park???? I turned to ask Gray and she pretends that she doesn't know and gets on the phone and calls one of her friends to tell them we are lost in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Did I mention that I wasn't wearing a coat and it was about 30 degrees with a brisk wind? Then with a gust of wind it hits me. We came in through the other door- on the other side of the store. HAHAHA - I laugh out loud. With provisions in hand, we trek to the other side of the parking lot. Yup, right where I left it......I am such a goober sometimes. Once in the car, Gray tells me who she is talking to......can you guess who?? MacKenzie...of Brudy's family fame. Well, at least I only lost my car for 10 minutes.

Bowling, Band, and PETA

2010-02-23T14:30:00.004-06:00

When I was little as I always thought people worked at occupations because they liked it. If you were a milkman - you liked cows and milk; if you worked as a fireman - you liked to save people and had a slight fascination with fire; and if you worked a a bowling alley you liked to bowl. I have grown a bit wiser as I've aged, but I still think that if you work at a bowling alley - you should at least bowl. Not true with my next stranger. I walked into the Rowlett Bowl A Rama and the only people there where the employees and myself. So I walked up to the counter, interrupted what appeared to an early dinner from Sonic, and rattled off my spiel about meeting a stranger a day; extended my hand and said, "Hi, my name is Donna." He extended his hand and told me that his name was Paul. I asked what I thought was an obvious question, "So how well do you bowl?" And his answer surprised me. "I am not a bowler - don't know anything about bowling and I can only bowl if the bumpers are up." In my head I screamed, WHAT, How is that possible?? And then without a filter, my outside voice said the same thing except I didn't yell it. Paul explained that he had been laid off from Starbucks and on a trip back from the lake he decided to stop in and see if they were hiring. He said that he had to go through three interviews before he got the job (I am guessing that might be about right for a guy who doesn't know a thing about bowling). He went to tell me league bowling happens every night and Tuesday's are $2 beer and $2 bowling. For me, a girl who loves to bowl, that sounds like a return trip on another Tuesday.

While I was at the bowling alley, I also officially met David. I had seen David before at the Sachse High School football games and knew he was a band parent, but I did not know who he belonged to - until then. He told me that he was the dad of Brandon and Brittany who played in the band. "Oh, I know Brandon. Our son, Mason, is friend's with Brandon." He nodded in agreement. I told him that I thought he was still managing Chuck E. Cheese and he told me he was, but he was now back at the Bowl A Rama. He told me that Brandon was bound for the University of Houston after graduation and I told him congratulations. I told David that I was glad that I could now put face and name together. I wished them both a good day and headed out the door.

I am glad that Paul was able to find a job after being laid off. But in my humble opinion, I think working in a bowling alley and not like bowling is like having a PETA supporter work in a butcher shoppe.....it just seems weird.

Bi-Level Haircuts, School Zones, and Lynette

2010-02-22T16:49:00.006-06:00

I have seen her almost every morning since the school year began. She is out there in the rain, snow, and the heat with whistle around neck and stop sign in hand - she makes sure that the children going to Hudson Middle School and Sewell Elementary School get across the street without incident. She is the crossing guard and I had always planned on having her be one of my strangers to met, but I never seemed to get around to it. And truth be told, I was more times than not usually still in my pajama bottoms (which are lounge pants) and sweatshirt when I drop Grayson and her car pool companions off. However, I had my opportunity to meet her on Friday night - no not after school, but Friday night after Grayson's play. The cast were having their taking photos and I was at the back of the auditorium when I noticed her talking to some other parents. So I waited until she was finished and I walked over and said, "You are the cross-walk lady, right?" And she said, "Yes, I had to come support my kids. The ones who cross the street." I told her that I had see her everyday and wonder about her on the days that she is gone. And then, I extended my hand and told her that my name was Donna. She extended her hand as well and I was shaking hands with Lynette. I chuckled when I said that I would have stopped sooner to meet, but I was usually in my lounge pants and sweatshirt. She said she had seen worse - she even once saw a man in his t-shirt and boxers. Oh boy, I think that I could have even found enough time to get my drawers covered. She went on to explain that she is not an employee of the school district, but is actually employed by the Sachse Police Department and has been doing it for five years. I was surprised because I thought cross guards were employed by the school district and she said that most were, but not in Sachse. She has even gone to court to testify when people wanted to contest the tickets they receive in school zones. I am sure she could tell a story or two about the stuff she sees. I thanked her for coming to the play and told her that I would give her a shout out on Monday morning when dropped off the girls.

So this morning, as we approached the school and the cross-walk, I rolled my window down. As I got ready to turn the corner - I yelled out my window, "Hey Lynette. How's it going?" She hollered back, "Hey girl, good to see you." As I rolled my window back up, Grayson in a mortified squeal says, "What are you doing, Mom?" I said I met Lynette on Friday night at the play and promised to give her a shout out this morning. I truly think that if all three girls could have - they would have crawled in the trunk or under the flat - right there.....they were embarrassed that I had the nerve to call out to her. They told me she had funny haircut and I said oh no, she doesn't - I had a bi-level (now sometimes called a mullet. However, a mullet is totally different than bi-level) when I was in college and it was stylish. Gray stated - that was a long time ago. I figure if you have ever worn a bi-level haircut - you have to stand-up for those chicks that still do. Unless of course they are in prison and have a nickname of Tank; head-up a motorcycle gang and are named Tiny; or Kate Gosselin who wears the reverse mullet - I think they can all stick up for themselves and don't need my support.

I got the girls dropped off and as I cruised through the intersection, I gave a Lynette a wave good-bye. And here is where I get on my soap-box about school zones. I think people who go over the speed limit in school zones are punks, I think that tickets for speeding in school zones should start at $500, and to confirm - I honk at people who speed through school zones. Slow down going through school zones - they are children; not deers bounding through a field.

Dog Dancing in Traffic and Scooby-Doo Success

2010-02-18T13:19:00.004-06:00

Success - I have attached the photo of the Scooby-Doo Mystery Van. It took me a while but, I finally found the van at home. Parked my car in alley; jumped out and had to endure the cat calls from the kids at South Garland Senior High as I took photos. I am not sure what they said, but I was not about to detour from my mission of getting a least a good shot of the van. There was one thing that I thought funny was a faded,weather-worn "Jimmy Buffet for President" sticker on the back bumper. I picture Shaggy as a Parrot-head, but not sure that Velma and Freddie would have approved. And to confirm, I would have gotten more pictures, too, if wasn't for the meddling kids.

So I am driving down Miller Road with no particular place to go (hey, isn't there a song there?) and a Garland Animal Control truck goes whizzing by me with its lights flashing. First, I didn't realize Animal Control trucks had flashing lights - I guess for emergencies and; Second, in my day, didn't we just call it the dog-catcher no matter what they were "catching"? Like a mosquito drawn to fresh skin, I decided that I had to follow the truck and see first-hand what the emergency might be. I stay just far enough behind it as not to impede the hunt. And what to my wandering eyes do appear, another Garland Animal Control truck, parked in a turning lane, with its lights on. What the heck could they be after that would require two trucks??? I told myself, by dang, I was going to find out. About that time, a "dog-catcher" went running into traffic chasing a big ol' black and brown dog that looked like a Mastiff to me. The truck I was following pulls over; flashers on; jumps out pole in hand that had a noose on the end and takes off in full sprint after the dog. Two men chasing a dog that is going in and out of traffic and when they tried to close in - it was just like a cartoon. He went right in between them and took off in the opposite direction. Both dog-catchers (dc's) run back to their trucks, make u-turns and head back in direction of dog-on-the-run. I go up to the next available intersection and make a u-turn and follow in quick pursuit. It was really like watching a cartoon because every time the dc's got out to chase him or try to corral him - he would dart off in the other direction. When they juked; he jived. He went right; they went left and then he would do the fake out and head back to the right. At this point, I was rooting for the dog! I slowed my car down and actually got stuck behind him as other cars went around me. But it did allow front row action. And all of sudden, that crazy dog was heading right toward my car and for a second, I thought it was going to jump across my hood. It was like slow-motion. He came toward my car - his head was going side-to-side, his jowls were flapping and with turn of his head big wads of dog spit would go flying. I could have washed my car with the amount of spit that flew onto my car. The dog goes by and the dc goes by and looks at me like "don't even think about getting out of your car." Trust me dude, it never even crossed mind once I saw the size of the dog and his teeth. This cat and mouse game went on for another 15 minutes and I finally found a spot in a parking lot to watch the dog and dc dance. They finally got him corralled in a front yard and my dc "roped" him and drug him to his truck and loaded him in. I was on the other side of the road and down a bit so when he pulled away - I knew that I had follow him and make him my stranger for the day.

By the time I cut across traffic and going in the same direction, I thought I had lost him. But I finally found him parked in an alley behind a warehouse. I pulled up behind him and he probably thought I was the dog's owner. But as I approached him I said, "So you guys finally got him." He said, "Yes, I am just cooling down. That is about the most excitement we get." I asked if a owner had called the dog in missing and he said that a school over on Dairy and Centerville had called to say there was a dog running in and out of traffic and school was getting ready to let out. Now mind you, when they caught him he was at Miller and First streets which was a heck of a haul for a dog being chased. I said, "My name is Donna" and extended by hand. He did the same and I was shaking hands with Drew of the Garland Animal Control Services. I asked what kind of dog it was and he told me it was a Rottweiler and went on the say to me, "Man, I got hot chasing him so I had to pull off my jacket." I nodded in agreement and said, "Yeah, I saw that." Then, an awkward pause of silence and realizing I really had noting less to say - I wished him a good day and good luck with the dog.

The one thing I pondered, as I headed toward home, is how many Animal Control officers would it take if there had been a loose coyote??? I don't even want to know, but I hear it on the scanner - I 'm there!!!

Lions, Tigers, and Deer - Oh My....

2010-02-17T21:00:00.005-06:00

Nothing screams "go meet a stranger there" than a giant fish on top of the building. I found it quite by accident when I was cruising the one-way streets around old downtown square in Mesquite to get over to the Mesquite BBQ. So once done at the BBQ, I cruised back around the square until I found a parking spot and headed to the store front right below the fish.

I was a little nervous as I pushed the door open. I had never been to a place like this before and yet I curiously excited as I walked through the door. And the minute I crossed the threshold, I thought I might throw-up right there. I was met with an odor that I had not planned for......a smell that burned my nostrils. I had just walked into the A-1 Sportsman Taxidermy Shop and to say the least - there was a lot to take in. There was a gentleman behind the counter conversing with a man and two young boys and a large black dog sauntered up to me and gave me a couple of good sniffs. I turned to see where the dog came from and came face to face with, what I thought was, a moose and later learned was an elk. There were deer heads, elk head and shoulder mounts, life size bobcats, rabbits, fish on the wall and/or in the counter case. They were really beautiful in a scary sort-of way. And in the middle of the room was a large (long and wide) table that I quickly deduced was the "working" table. It had tools, head molds, boards, push pins, etc. scattered about the table. I am just standing there trying to take in everything without going into sensory overload slowly turning around and around. And then the gentleman behind the counter asks if he can help me. I am sure I looked out of place with my purse and note pad and he probably thought I was going to try to sell him something. I told him that I didn't want to interrupt his transaction and he said that he was done. So I moved over to the counter; extended my hand and told him that my name was Donna and continued with my spiel. I was shaking hands with Steve, the owner of A-1 Sportsman Taxidermy and big hunter looking Steve asked me, "What in the heck made you decide to come in here?" I told him, "Couldn't pass up the giant fish on the building and I have never been in a taxidermy shop before. So, why not." He laughed and shook his head. And then I heard in a small voice, "You can meet us too." So I met Alex, his brother Patrick and their dad, John. They were there to get their first bucks mounted. Patrick had bagged a 8 point and Alex got a 5 point. Alex went on to tell me that his fell about 15 yards from where he shot it and then Patrick told me that it took them 15 minutes to find his and they walked past it about three times because he was so well camouflaged in the grass. Patrick appeared to be about 11 and Patrick was maybe 7. John, the dad, was beaming from ear-to-ear as his boys told me about their bucks and then he chirped in and told me, "I am a proud dad, I didn't even pick up a gun - they did it all." I couldn't figure out if they had already dropped off their deer and they were in the back "for processing" until I looked down near my feet and peeking out from black trash bags were eyes. I jumped back until I realized it was dead. I mean I knew it was dead, but somehow you forget until you take a second look. I should have stuck with the first glance because the second look confirmed - dead deer heads on the floor in trash bags. Insert full-body shiver here. Again, beautiful in a scary sort-of way. As Steve is writing up the order for Alex and Patrick's deer, I ask him the dog's name - Gunner and to explain, in simple terms, how this whole taxidermy thing worked. Skin removed, tanned, pulled over the form, glass eyes added and viola'.

Now to that smell. Did mention that the smell in the store burned my nostrils??? It smelled like 7th grade biology class when we had to dissect a frog. Formaldehyde and skin......if you ever had to dissect a frog - you never forget the smell. I guess you get used to the smell after a while, but I never did for the 15-20 minutes that I was there. Steve gave me the price list and as far as I can tell the cheapest thing that you can get mounted is a raccoon, flat skin without the head and the most expensive thing appears to be Life Size Mount Elk. Huh, I would have thought a bear would be more expensive, but not according to the price list. I had tons of questions that I could have asked Steve, but frankly, I couldn't take the smell and I started coughing. So I bid Steve and Gunner good-bye and Steve wished me good luck with my project. Back in my car, I couldn't stop coughing. My first thought was chemical poisoning. Second thought was a fur ball. After about 2 hours, I stopped coughing - I think I finally coughed up the deer fur ball. Oh, I should have kept it and had Steve mount it for me. Okay, maybe not.

Broadway, Beltline, and BBQ

2010-02-15T20:14:00.004-06:00

The end of last week, we had 12 inches of snow here in the Dallas area so I had to take a couple of days off to play and just be still with the snow. But the snow has now melted and I am back stranger meeting and updates. So I am in my car heading really to nowhere when I turned onto Broadway in Garland and when I ended up in Balch Springs (which I had never been to before) and hadn't yet stopped, I decided to turn around and head back toward home. At the corner of Beltline and Davis, I got caught at the light and as I tried to figure out where the distinct smell of BBQ was coming from. You know the smell, when mesquite hangs in the air and all of a sudden you are hungry even though you just had lunch. Oooh, I love that smell. I turn toward the right, and the driver next to me just stares - nope - he is not BBQ. Back to my left was Mesquite BBQ and I knew I had to pop in. The light turns green; a quick maneuver to the left and I am making my way around old Mesquite Town Square back to the Mesquite BBQ. Pulling into the parking lot, I see the sign proclaiming Celebrating 50 years of business. The minute I walked in, I stepped back in time. A time when everyone who was anyone met at the local diner and hung out. Heads of animals line the wall and I find woman taking inventory of the rolled flatware. So I introduced myself, gave her my spiel and extended my hand. She did the same and I was shaking hands with Karen. I asked Karen if she was the owner or manager and she told me that me that she had been working there about 2 weeks and was the cashier. I asked if the Mesquite BBQ had been in the same location for the last 50 years and she turned and pointed to the Mesquite BBQ history board. It has only moved once and as far as I could tell it just moved down the block. It is still family owned and operated, albeit through marriage which I think is still a very cool thing to have a family owned and operated business in this day of multi-national corporations and big box stores. Hats off to you. I have to tell you that this place smelled great...did I already tell you that??? A few people were doing the sit-down-eat-inside, but it looked like they have a booming take-out business. I wished Karen a great day and she wished me luck in my stranger meetings. If I am ever back or if you are in their neck of the woods - stop in; pick up a pound or two of BBQ and tell Karen and the boys behind the counter that I said hi.

Cookies, a Slim Jim and Scooby-Doo Update

2010-02-10T17:43:00.005-06:00

First things first, I am still trying to find the Scooby-Doo van so that I can get a picture. I found out where it "lives" and have been driving by daily and no such luck in finding it at home. Alas, I will keep trying, but if you live in Garland and see it out and about - take a photo and send it to me..I will give your credit.

I went to the Rowlett Town Hall meeting last week and it reminded me of going to the City Commission meetings back in the "Little Apple." City status updates by the Mayor (who I have already introduced to you), City Manager (whose office I visited in an earlier blog), Deputy Mayor Pro Tem, and City Councilman and followed with a Q&A. Most of the Q&A was more complaint than a question and those who did ask a question - lost me. Not because it was an issue that I wasn't familiar with, but because the question became so convoluted in detail that I forgot what the heck the original question was. I also question my fellow Rowlettians, Rowlett-tonians (I am not even sure that is what we are technically called) who stuffed their pockets and purses full of cookies and water that had been set-up in the back of the room. You know the type - they show at any and everything that provides free refreshments. And if we are speaking frankly, some of them can smell out a free cookie about 500 yards away. After the meeting, I was waiting to meet the City Manager (since I had already met "her" office), when I had a woman approach me. She said to me, "I know you from somewhere, but I can't place it." I smiled and replied, "I am the meet a stranger-a-day lady and you are Denise from the City Manager's office." Excitedly she said, "Yes, yes -that's it." How cool. I then noticed that she had gentleman with her so I decided to meet him. I could tell from his jacket that he was the Fire Chief (it was embroidered on the left shoulder). I extended my hand, just like I had when I met Denise, and gave him my spiel. I was meeting George Harris, Rowlett Fire Chief. George looks like a fireman - broad shoulders, tall and a moustache. He has been a fireman for 25 years and hired Chris's cousin, Jimmy Wilson. I told him that he made a good choice with Jimmy and with a hearty laugh, he agreed with me. George is also the go-to-guy (words from the Mayor) when a City Manager position opens. George, I found out use to be the Rowlett City Manager so when Rowlett has position open - George fills in during the candidate search. Talk about being handy as a pocket on a shirt!!! I wished Denise and George a good evening and headed toward the door, but before I leaving I made sure that I met the City Manager.

Lynda Humble is the Rowlett City Manager. She has been in office for one year and is very passionate about her job. That passion came through during the Q&A session when responding about volunteer opportunities within the city. I liked her before I even met her. I told her that I had two things when I approached her and she promptly pulled out her notebook. I am sure that she thought that I was going to complain about something. "First", I said, "I have to ask you if your shoes are comfortable?" She was wearing very pointed black below the ankle boots. She said, "Surprisingly, yes." And as I extended my hand, "Hi, my name is Donna and I thought I should meet you since I have met your office." She cocked her head and looked at me the same way my dog does when I burp...oh come on....everyone burps. I went on to explain that I had met Denise as one of my strangers-a-day and she told me that she had heard about my visit. I smiled and wished her a good evening and thanked her for doing a great job. Nodded at John Harper (the Mayor) on the way out because my hands were full - I was stuffing a cookie in my mouth with my right hand and I was grabbing a second one with my left.

One other stranger I met was at the Chili's in Rowlett. Dressed in red shirt and black pants, he greeted us at the door and seated us. As we (the family plus Britni) waited for our food and as he moved through the the restaurant to seat other patrons - we commented on how tall he was and that he must play basketball. Food consumed and bill paid, we headed for the door, but I stopped to meet him. I extended my hand and told him my New Year's resolution that my name was Donna. He told me that his name was Jimmy and shook my hand. I asked him how tall was and he replied about 6'5" or 6'6". According to my brother-in-law, Mike, anything over 6'7" is freakishly tall so Jimmy - not freakishly tall - just tall. I continued, "Please tell me that with your height - you are playing basketball somewhere." "Yes, I play for Richland College," he said. "The Thunder Ducks," I said and he beamed, "Yes, we were National Champions." Chris had already left and started the car so I wished Jimmy a great evening and he said to Grayson, "Good Night, Baby Girl" and shook my hand again and said, "Good Night, Love." I hopped in car and said, "Jimmy plays basketball for the Thunder Ducks." Chris asked, "How do you know that?" "Jimmy is my stranger." What a polite Thunder Duck.

Knee-Deep in Politicians and Scooby-Doo

2010-02-04T13:42:00.003-06:00

Last night Chris and I went over to "the big city across the bridge" - Rockwall - for a Republican campaign appearance by State Senator, Bob Deuell and Lt. Governor, David Dewhurst. I figured it would be an easy way to meet a stranger. Let set the stage for you.....it was a cool and rainy day and the appearance was being held at the Rockwall Public Library conference room. As we walked in, the first thing that we see are two receiving lines down the middle of the room each side flanked by supporters holding campaign posters and yard signs....don't really want to be in this group of people...too styled, too stiff and too many acting like groupies. Those in attendance are a combo of men and women some young, but most grey hairs (which is sad statement in itself) and as I move toward an open spot against the wall - I catch whiffs of Ben-Gay, Bryl-Cream, and the distinct smell of those who drink coffee all day. One we stopped moving, candidates running for local offices surrounded us like sharks drawn to chum.....candidates running for office need to press the flesh and we are easy targets flat against the wall. First up, Ken Jones running for Judge and past Mayor of Rockwall, even after we explained that we were not in his district, he insisted that I take his business card. Okay, I said and took back my hand. He had really soft hands, smiled a lot and boisterous.

As the main event was getting ready to start, those running for office scurried back to their spots in the receiving lines. Introductions were made, speeches were given, questions asked and answered provided and last but not least; asking for your vote. The local candidates meandered in the middle of the room while the Senator took one corner of the room and the Lt. Governor took the other side and lines formed so those in attendance could personally meet them, partake in a photo-op, or just provide some well intended "advice." However, I did not migrate to either one of them - I sought out to meet the Mayor of Rowlett, my city, John Harper. I had never met him before even though Chris has regular email conversations with him and speaks highly of each of their conversations. I approached him and extended my hand and rattled off my spiel. And then he asked me, "Do you know Chris Paul." I chuckled and said, "Yes" and turned to Chris who was standing behind me, motioned and said, "This is Chris." As they talked briefly, I took inventory. Nice suit, purple tie (I knew I liked him for a reason-EMAW), nicely groomed moustache. The conversation turns back to me and I tell him that I am planning on attending the Rowlett Town Hall meeting on Thursday evening as I figure it is yet another opportunity to meet a stranger or two. He tells me that he is "honored" to be my stranger of the day and thanks me. I, in return, thank him. He and Chris turn back to discussing politics and John asks Chris about the possibility of him running for City Council and in slow motion..... my head turned as if I was Linda Blair possessed in the Exorcist and I made a gurgling noise - cross between laughing and choking - and said, "What.....I am the only one who could put up with him." Both he and John laugh. I bid John a good-bye and remind him that I will be at the Thursday town hall and I get in line to meet the Lt. Governor.

David Dewhurst is tall, I mean really tall. I went on-line and articles indicate that he is 6'5". He has really good teeth and reminded me of a younger Mark Hamill (before the car crash and before the alcohol). I wait patiently in line and it comes up turn...."Hi, my name is Donna Paul...." finish the spiel and then I say, "What is one thing you would change about your office?" Pretty heady - right?! He ponders just for a moment, like a good politician does and says, "Time. Everything takes so long for us to make progress. It is like rolling a boulder up a hill; it is very slow. And in the end, I think that we all want the same thing, but it just takes so long." Nice response and I smile. Then he asks me, "So, who is the most interesting person you have met so far?" I choke...uh....uh.....think Donna think......then prideful, I say, "You, Governor." I beam. He looks at me like it is a cop-out response so I quickly say the man that I met in his front yard - yes that it is - wait - no - it is the man that I meet at Wal-Mart waiting to pick up his prescriptions. He smiles with his big straight white teeth and tells me, "You must have made his day." and I say without hesitation, "No, Governor, he made my day." He wished me good luck and he was on to the person behind me. I turn to Chris and I say, I think that went pretty well and he said, "You couldn't think of someone more interesting of the people you have met?" I laughed - nope - I couldn't; I choked!!! Oh well, what's a girl to do...did I tell you that he was tall???

The gathering was coming to an end, but I did want to get my picture taken with the Senator since I had met him on the way in. So I darted over to his side of the room and asked if I could have my photo taken with him. He obliged, I smiled, and Chris took the picture. And as we walked to the car, Chris said don't forget to mention that Senator Deuell drove himself to the meeting - he parked near us and we arrived at the same time. Mentioned.

As we are heading home, I got to meet one more stranger - sort of. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and then as if my eyes were deceiving, I did a double take and yell at Chris, "Look at that." There, getting ready to pull into traffic, was the Scooby-Doo Mystery Machine van. I tell Chris that we need turn around so that I can meet the people in the van. He said, "Uh, no - it is raining and I want to get home." He was right. And then it was as if the heavens heard me, the light turns red and it pulls up right behind us. I yank off my seat belt and like a Chinese Fire Drill - I am out of the car and running back to the Mystery Machine van. I am standing in the rain admiring the van and I ask them to roll down the window. I reach across the passenger and introduce myself and the driver tells me that his name is Nick. I told them I thought is was a great van and then like a goof in my best Scooby voice I say, "Cool and Ruh-Roh, Shaggy." Nick looked at me as if to say, never heard that before. ZZOOIINNKKSS. I ran back to the car and said, "What the heck to you think you are doing in the middle of traffic, in the rain?" "I don't know. I just wanted to meet them.", I said. And like a little kid, he said, "What did it look like inside?" I said, "Bare. I think they spent all the money in the paint." I settle back in the car and am trying to buckle up before the light changes, I notice that the passenger in the car next to us is hanging out the window taking pictures of the Mystery Machine. It WAS cool. When we get home, I tell Mason that I have saw the Mystery Machine and he tells me that he has seen it a couple of times and that it at a house over by South Garland High. Oh really?!?!?! I am going to venture over there so that I can get a picture of it and when I get there I am going yell, Hey, Nick - GAAANGWAAAAY!!!

Beer Brats and The Sausage Dog - My Canine Stranger

2010-02-02T17:01:00.005-06:00

So what would you do if you happened upon a stray dog with tags on a cold day??? That is exactly what happened to Mason's girlfriend, Britni, yesterday. She called Mason, asking what should she do? She had knocked on doors and no one answered and it was shivering. When he told me, I said, "Bring it over here." Of course, when I agree - I am not a 100% sure of what kind of dog was coming over. The only thing I knew was it's small. And so the story begins, but as a reminder - we have a dog. Timmy, our Australian Shepard has always been the only canine to receive our love and attention.

The small dog was shivering in Britni's arms and I wasn't sure if he was shivering because he was cold (short-haired dog) or because it was scared. Once inside our house, Britni told us how she found him and couldn't leave him there, but that she and Mason needed to go to the library - what should she do? I should interject here that while Britni is holding the dog, Timmy was going ape dog crazy. I could see his his brain working...."Gotta smell the new dog; I repeat gotta smell the new dog; let go of me so I can smell the new dog, gotta play with the new dog; let go of me; is anyone listening to me?" I told her leave him here and I would check his tags and see if I could locate his owners. His tags did not give him a name, but he was registered and had a rabies shot within the last year. So holding him in my arms and reading the vet number from the tag - I called his vet. And by providing the tag number, I now was holding Brudy, the overweight Chihuahua and his last name was Wyatt. The vet gave me a contact telephone. I thanked them; hung-up and immediately dialed Brudy's human people. Ring, Ring,Ring......"Hello you have reached the ....".......and I respond with...."Hi my name is Donna Paul and we have your dog........please call us." And with that I put Brudy on the floor and looked at both of the dogs and said, "You two need to get along so figure it out." After about 5 minutes of a circular dance with nose to bottom sniffing, they settled down. And the wait began. And we waited. An hour passed and then two. Well, I thought, they must be stuck in rush hour traffic...I reassured Chris that the humans will call. And he assures me that we are not going to keep the dog. I nod in agreement. Of course all bets are off when Grayson gets home from rehearsal and the first thing she says is, "Did you buy him? Do we get to keep him?" And he is small enough for her to carry him.

Brudy is everything our dog is not. He has short hair; Tim has long. He has a tail; Tim has none; He is very hyper; Tim is a quiet couch potato. Moving into the third hour of Brudy in the house. Not thinking that he would be here this long, I didn't even think to ask his vet if he had any diet restrictions. So I reverted back to the advice our pediatrician gave us when we first brought Mason home from the hospital almost 18 years ago, he is coming to live with you.....he will adapt. So Brudy dined on dry dog food with Timmy. Brudy learned very quick that Timmy was the lead dog in this house - when we went out to the backyard - Timmy went out the door first and when we came back in - Timmy came through the door first. Two more hours passed. We started doubting that anyone would be calling for Brudy. And we played the "what-if" game. What if they were on vacation and the dog sitter accidentally let the dog out; what if they had their house foreclosed and they just left the dog; what if no one calls? At 10:00 pm we decided to make plans for the doggie slumber party as it appeared that Brudy would be with us for a while.

We knew for sure that Brudy would/could not impede on Tim's space so the the master bedroom was off limits as well as Timmy's crate. So I turn to Mason. And before I could form the sentence he said, "He is not staying in my room." Ugh. I turn to Grayson and thinking if I stared at her long enough she would cave. So I stared and stared some more. I had lost my touch because she said, "I am not having him in my room - what if he poops in there?" Ugh - good point. I turned to Chris and said, "You will have to sleep down here with him." He didn't hesitate when he said, "OK." What??? No point, counter-point conversation??? I think that Chris has taken a shine to Brudy the sausage shaped Chihuahua. Brudy would jump up and plop himself down on the pillow and then a minute later he would be on point like he was Rin-Tin-Tin at the edge of the sofa. The quirky sausage dog was worming his way into our lives. NO, must resist - we don't need another dog. And I as ran upstairs leaving Brudy downstairs with Chris, I am still confident that Brudy's humans would call.

6 :15 am Tuesday morning - amazed that I slept so well last night. Wake Mason up and head down stairs. Chris is sleeping on a pallet he has made on the floor and Brudy is laying next to him. I poke Chris with my foot and ask him why he is on the floor and not on the sofa. He mumbles back, "Brudy was on the sofa and I didn't want to wake him if I moved him." Oh lord - really?!?!?! I need to have a cup of coffee to digest that bit of information. Both kids up and moving and the first thing they ask, "Is he still here?" "Yup, sure is, but I will be calling his vet again to see if they have any other contact numbers," I say. Mason off to school and I take my car-pool girls to school. Back home, I find both dogs chillin' on the floor. This is when I start entertaining the notion that maybe we could have two dogs in our house and hearts.

10:00 am and I finally call back the vet. And after telling them about the dog slumber party, they were able to provide me with some alternative telephone numbers as well as a human name - Geri. I rang the first number - nope wrong extension. Call the second number and it sounds like someone picks up, but all I hear is a radio. After a couple of seconds, I say, "Hello??"
And a startled hello echoed back at me. I asked if this was Ms. Wyatt and she asked me if I called her and I pulled the phone from ear - looked at it - put back and replied, "Yes." I explained Brudy's situation....called last night and left a message....called the vet back this morning to get more contact information. And she said, "Brudy???" and she continued, "Where are you? Brudy, a Chihuahua?" Rowlett and yes Brudy the Chihuahua, I said. I explain to her that he can stay with me today and I can bring him to her after the work day. I went on the say that I had to pick my daughter up from play rehearsal at 6:15 and I would be more than happy to bring him home. She asked me to repeat the Middle School name because she has a daughter in middle school and sure enough - same Middle School; same grade. She tells me her daughter is a cheerleader and I pause.......Grayson hangs with the cheerleaders. "What is your daughter's name?" "Mackenzie." And then I tell her, my daughter knows your daughter. I tell her my daughter is Grayson and she tells me, "She just asked me to be her facebook friend." We chuckle and I am relieved that I am familiar with his human. And then she admitted the most unbelievable thing to me......"We didn't even know that he was missing." WHAT? REALLY? Did she just say that they didn't know that he was missing??? She explained that they didn't check the answering machine, came home late, had to feed the kids, chauffeur the kids and when Brudy is cold he goes and hides. They didn't even miss him last night and this morning she thought it was weird that he didn't come out, but again she thought he was hiding. Nope - over here in Rowlett having a doggie slumber party. She gave me their address and we agreed that I would bring him back home after school and with that I hung up.

And as I replayed the conversation, I could not comprehend - how does someone not know that their dog is missing??? I know for sure I would know if Timmy was missing. I might be going out on a limb, but maybe they are too busy to have a dog.....maybe??? So I text Gray and tell her to tell Mackenzie that we have her dog and we are going to return it this afternoon.

To make a long story short, Brudy hung out all day with me and Tim. Britni and Mason took Brudy home this afternoon and Grayson came home and told me that at Mackenzie didn't know that Brudy was missing and confirmed that he hides a lot because they have 5 kids, 4 dogs, and two cats.

So in honor of Brudy the sausage shaped Chihuahua staying with us, we are having sausage (beer brats) for dinner, and hoping that Brudy is safe and warm tonight.

Four Strangers and Inhaling Fertilizer

2010-01-26T11:09:00.004-06:00

I had someone ask me, again, if I plan out ahead of time where I am going to meet strangers. In a word - no. That would require too much organization and would really take out the randomness of the whole thing. I just get in the car and start driving until the urge to go to the bathroom happens...no, not really. I just stop when I feel like it and pop in and introduce myself. I also see this as a way to go to places I might normally pass up. And it kinda allows me a bit more vibrato that I might not normally have....you know, I have a tendency to be a wallflower. So I have to catch you up on four strangers.

I was driving through downtown Rowlett and decided to pull into City Hall to found out who might be hanging around. It seemed very desolate and no one stopped me so I strolled into the City Manager's office. Sitting in an open area behind a big wooden receptionist-type desk, surrounded by lots of wooden cabinets and accessories sat a very professional woman. Glasses and long hair with a nice smile asked, "Can I help you?" I said, "I hope so" and with that I extended my hand; told her "My name is Donna," and gave her my spiel. She told me that her name was Denise. She said that most everyone was in a meeting, but if I wanted to walk around I was more than welcome to do so. How nice, in this day and age, that I would be allowed to move about the Cit Manager's office. Do you think you could do that even in Manhattan? I doubt it. Denise likened my quest to a lady who tried 365 crock pot recipes and then critiqued them. I had never heard of the "crock pot lady" or even knew she existed. I bid Denise a great afternoon and left. On the way out I noticed there is going to be a city town hall meeting in February - you can bet that I am going to be there. Might try to meet the City Manager since I have already met his office.

My next stranger was in his front yard raking leaves and I drove past him twice. First, I was trying figure how to get to his driveway and the second time I was being bump-drafted by some teenager in our city's one and only round-a-bout. So one more time around - this time on the outside and a quick right into his driveway and a quick stomp on my brakes so that I wouldn't rear-end his truck. He didn't even look up from from raking his leaves when I pulled up. So with an "AHEM, can you possibly help me?" He looked up. And whilst rattling off my spiel, I extended me hand. With my hand only catching air - I asked him his name. And as if it was almost an after thought he said, "Stan" and shook my hand. His hands were rough and calloused and in my mind I thought - an outdoor man by trade. With a wheelbarrow close and discarded stones from a dug up sidewalk, I asked him what he planned to do with the exposed dirt area where the sidewalk used to be. He explained that this wasn't his house, but he thought the owners were going to plant flowers. So curiously, I asked, "Is this a second job type thing?" "Nope, I am an out-of-work electrician." That explains the hands. He asked me my name again and I oblige. He wanted to know in case I became famous. I just laughed and turned to head back to my car. I wished Stan a good day. Then I had to figure out how I was going to back out of the driveway into the round-a-bout traffic. A quick glance, shift into reverse and a tap to the accelerator and I was back in traffic. I waved to Stan as I drove away.

It was a great day. It was a little windy and cool, but I threw caution to the wind and drove with my car window down, radio turned up and the heater turned on to stay warm. I had seen it a dozen of times - a throwback in time surrounded by modern businesses. As I stepped through the front door and onto the wooden floor, I felt like I was back in Kansas when all the cool stores still had wooden floors And as I inhaled, it reminded me of the horticulture store my dad would go to on the West side of town - Green Thumb. At first, the aroma of fertilizers and DDT-like sprays was overpowering, but within a few minutes, my nostrils relaxed. This was the Roach Feed and Seed, Inc. store and it was cool and perfect. I was absorbed in the sights and trying to wrap my brains around the fact that I could buy stuffed horse hooves and giant smoked pigs ears to feed animals; when I someone asked if they could help me. I went over to the long wooden counter and met two women dressed in boots, jeans, and colorful tops - Dixie and Shayna. Their names just seemed to fit. I extended my hand with my spiel rolling from my tongue and told them this store reminded me of being a little girl with my dad. I asked if I could just wander around and look. "Of course," they said in unison and when back to figuring out how to display products. Cattle vaccines, parrot feed, loose seeds for planting a garden, horse halters, steel tubs, and wooden floors throughout. Off to the left of the front door was an enclosed office that looked like a place an old-timer would go to check the recent prices of soybeans or alfalfa and to the right of the office were two big barn type doors which I guessed are used to load and unload pallets. Toward the back of the store, I was tempted to go upstairs where a great sign heralding the timeliness of cattle vaccines peeked out, but then thought better of it. Smiling and floating about this time capsule, I headed toward the front. Something caught my eye and before I knew it - a streak of brown terror flew past me. There was a bird inside. Holy crap - how do I get out of there without having the dang thing land on me AND without looking like a fool. (Psst....I am afraid of birds and I don't know where this one has gone to) Dixie and Shayna think it has landed a top of a ceiling mounted fan/furnace contraption. They get a broom and are gently poking the air to ferret it out. My heart is beating faster and louder and I move toward the horse halters on the back wall. The last thing that I want is a poked bird flying down on me. And as I rounded the corner in front of the powder based fertilizers, making my way toward the front door, I squealed. The dang bird was not on the furnace, it was in front of me and flapping toward me. Nowhere to go and Dixie is saying, "Poor bird has been in here all day and I think it is scared." I think to myself, "poor bird, my ass - poor Donna." I don't know where the the bird is and I am frozen in fear inhaling toxic levels of fertilizer because I am almost to the point of hyper-ventilating. And with a quick swoosh of the broom by Dixie, I saw it head toward the back of the store. Big breath. Oh thank goodness the line was not busy and my prayer got through to the big guy and I bolted for the front door. I told Dixie and Shayna "Good luck with the bird" and I was out of the door. With all the seeds and feed, that bird could live in there for weeks - it might never leave. So before I go back, I think I will phone ahead and check to see if the bird has checked-out.

The last stranger update drives the 207 route to Dallas. Yes, I pulled in front of a DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) bus (he had stopped to load passengers), left my car running, boarded the bus. Extended my hand introduced myself and met Miguel. He only had one passenger on the bus and I asked him if this was his normal route. He said, "No, I am only on this route every couple of weeks. I usually run the express." I nodded and smiled, but had no idea what the express was. I take quick inventory of the bus. I guess I had thought it would a dirty, smelly bus - it was neither. As I had left my car running in the bus lane and another bus was pulling up - I thought it was wise to get back to my car before it was pushed out of the way. I wished Miguel a good route and a good evening. Also hollered goodbye to his passenger and ran back to my car. I think the 207 to Dallas was in good hands.

One Stop Shop - Ta-tas; a Tattoo, and Taxes

2010-01-21T20:51:00.010-06:00

I tried a different approach this evening to meet a stranger. I stood in our alley. And I stood there and stood some more. Mason even came out to keep me company and when he got bored, he brought out a guitar and started strumming up and down the alley. As the sun started to set, I began dancing while Mason sang some crazy made-up song about me standing in the alley trying to meet a stranger. After 30 minutes of dancing in the driveway and alley while serenading the neighbors dogs, Chris drove up with Gray. They both just stared at us. Mouths wide open. I guess it was kind of a funny site.....the moon was rising, a six-foot tall toothpick strumming a guitar up and down the alley, and a woman in a sweatshirt and pony-tail dancing in her driveway. Probably not the ideal conditions. Back into the house to finish dinner (meatloaf and rice).

Hhhmmm...where to meet a stranger??? I left it up to Chris and Mason. We ended up at Liberty Income Tax Services. I know you have seen their store fronts - they have people dressed up in the Statute of Liberty costume and stand out on the corner waving at cars as they drive. So I take a deep breath as I get out the car and go in. Two chicks inside. One looks to be about high school age watching a video on a laptop and the other who was probably late 30's sat behind a desk. "Can I help you?" I said, "I hope so." I walked over to her desk, extended my hand and gave her the spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna." She shook my hand and did not give me her name so I held on to her hand and asked her. "What is your name?" Sheepishly she said, "Brandy." Not sure why she was hesitant to give me her name since she wasn't hesitant to show me her tattoo of a flower that was across the top of her left boob that was hanging out of her too low, too small shirt. Just the kind of person that I want to do my taxes. Then over on the wall, I saw the costumes hanging and my next goal was to see if she would let me put on the head-dress. So I asked, "Would you let me put on the costume?" And she said, "Yes." As I motioned to Chris to come in, I walked over the costumes. I asked Brandy why she liked her job and think that she mumbled something about meeting people. I then asked her if she ever put the costume on late at night and she curtly said , "No." She said the costumes where for the "Market-teers." Oh is that what they call them?!?!?!? Chris calls them, "Homeless." She helped me on with the head-dress and Chris took my picture (see below...I added a photo this time (psst..I have no make-up on)). Picture done, head-dress handed back to Brandy, and I wished them a great evening and thanked them for being a part of my adventure.

What a great stranger destination...I mean where can you get ta-tas, a tattoo, and taxes in one-stop???

January Thunderstorm, Screaming Kids, and Gold Teeth

2010-01-20T19:46:00.006-06:00

I don't mean to be a tease or brag, but since we have been back from Kansas - the temperature has been in the high 60's/low 70's. It's not right for it to be January and we are contemplating whether or not to turn on the air conditioner. We even had a thunderstorm blow through and now we are in a tornado watch. In January....sigh.

I have to tell you and most would agree that Wal-Mart is a stranger rich environment and this blog proves to be no different. Sherri is a checker at Wal-Mart, wears glasses, and appeared to be about 25. We started our conversation while she was checking my groceries. Wait. Let me stop right here and do a side bar. Do they still call it checking out your groceries or is it called scanning the groceries? Does anyone know? If so, let me know. Okay back to Sherri and our conversation. Our Wal-Mart has a mini-teeny arcade and a mother or grandma (I am not sure which) was pulling out a stroller with two kids strapped in who were screaming. Do parents with small kids ever think that they are going to get their kids out of an arcade without them screaming, kicking and punching? Ahh....in a word....NO. And then do they think that the rest of us aren't going to turn around and look at them. I/we smile at you because I/we don't want to call you a dolt or worse to your face. So I turn to Sherri and say, "That probably never ends well." And she tells me, "My mom brings my kids up here." Oops, one of those....yikes. I chuckle. I asked how old her kids were. She say, "5 and 4; a boy and a girl." And I said, "That must be a hand-full." She nods as she scans my Nilla Wafers . She asked if I had kids and I said "17 and 11 - just old enough to have a love/hate relationship." She looked at me as if she felt sorry for me. Oh really ?!?!?! And I just thought....oh, you just wait sister. I extended my hand to Sherri and told her that my name was Donna and I wished her a good evening as we shook hands. On the way to my car, I watched a real cool lighting storm toward the East.

I noticed him as I was walking out and after I loaded my groceries into my car, I looked to see if he was still there. He was. So I locked my car and went back. He was sitting by himself on a bench just inside the building in front of the soda machines. As I approached him, I noticed his hair was cut very short with an small almost perfect circle of gray on top, a cane leaned to the left of him and he had an orange soda. He didn't move and didn't make eye contact with me. So in a perky, slightly loud voice, I gave him my spiel. Told him my name was Donna and extended my hand. He hesitated slightly and then extended his and while we shook he told me that his name. Beasley. I repeated it. No. He said it again, and then he spelled it. E-A-S-L-E-Y. And as he pronounced each letter, I noticed he had the same number of gold teeth. Six. Four on the bottom and two on the top. I am not sure I have ever seen so many gold teeth in one mouth. As I stared at his mouth, I mentioned that it was a unique name and asked if it was a family name and proudly said, "Yes." I then asked him why he was sitting there and he told me that he was waiting for a ride. Easley was a man of little words and I had clearly invaded personal space as he shifted on the bench. And be kinda afraid that he might whack me with his cane - I wished him a great evening and went back to my car. As I drove away, I checked my rear view mirror and he was still sitting there.

Good Night Easley, where ever you are.

Clay Center, Boxing And A Chipmunk

2010-01-20T14:54:00.005-06:00

Sunday was the Duncan family reunion and as long as my Aunt Alma is living, we will have it in Clay Center. My Aunt Alma will be turning 95 this May - she is the oldest at 94 and the youngest is Kyle who just turned 12 weeks. So the clan gathered at the elementary school cafeteria, yup the cafeteria....we are a big group and show no signs of getting smaller or quieter. Thank goodness. Every face was familiar, this year, except one....who was this young, thin, pretty, brunette that came with my cousin Larry??? I introduced myself and she replied that her name was Becky. She went to K-State where she met Larry and I also found out she was a sorority sister with Erin. I was fortunate to hire Erin as a communication specialist for my previous company who was also a K-State alum. Becky is Larry's girlfriend and they are getting ready this week to move to Denver. I am happy for them to be starting out on a new adventure with a little skiing to be thrown in before they actually look for jobs. Oh to be young and carefree again.....hold up wait a minute.......nope, I am okay being almost 49. I did tell them that we would holler at them in June or July when we head to Colorado for a week. Becky seems to fit in very well with us, she doesn't appear to be shy which is a VERY good thing. In our family, being shy is like a boxer with small gash above the eye....we will keep pounding on it until you come out of your shell or run away. That is our big happy family...it works for us, it weeds out the weak at heart and makes the gene pool stronger. Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit, but not much. We ate, we laughed, we told stories, and took pictures and I can't wait to see some of them again when I go back at the end of July for the Riley County 4-H Fair. Wait until I write that story.

Monday's stranger was our flight attendant on the flight from Manhattan to Dallas. As a reminder from my first blog yesterday, Vessi was the over-aggressive bathroom checkin' flight attendant on the flight to Manhattan; however, Nancy only checked the bathroom once during pre-flight. She was not very tall with very blonde hair and very jovial. As she pushed the drink cart toward our row, I decided that I would meet her. She told me that she had a daughter named Donna and I told her that was my name as well and her daughter must beautiful since all the ones I have met are. Nancy was going to visit her daughter and grandson on Tuesday in St. Louis and then proceeded to tell me that on the previous flight that she tried to bribe a 6 year-old girl who had the Simon chipmunk from the McDonald's Happy Meal. As Nancy continued, I found out Simon that is the hardest chipmunk to come by and that her grandson was collecting them. So at the end of the flight, as the little girl and her father de-planed, she pulled out $2 and a can of ginger ale and told the girl she would buy the chipmunk from her. I always wondered how flight attendants could afford nice jewelry - now I know. They case the plane while they dole out sodas and tiny peanut bags and find out who has the best stuff and then as you get ready to leave - they bribe you. Now mind you, this has never happened to me, but if it could happen to a little girl with a hard to come by chipmunk....I don't think there is a level to which a flight attendant wouldn't stoop. Think about it........okay....maybe it doesn't happen just like that, but it could. By way the little girl's dad made her give Nancy back the $2, but she got to keep the ginger ale in exchange for he chipmunk. I guess it was a good thing Nancy's grandson wasn't collecting Rolex watches - we might have never gotten off the plane.

Double D's and Watching Eggs Boil

2010-01-19T16:47:00.013-06:00

Saturday I woke up in Manhattan (the Little Apple) to fog and my first glimpse of just how much snow was left over from the previous two weeks. Quite frankly for the kids and I - it was a lot, but a lot less than what they had. Grayson and I went out in our jammies and took pictures and stayed outside until our cheeks and hands were cold. I really only had two things on my to-do list on Saturday:

1. Go say hello to Vesta at the Manhattan Arts Center;
2. Meet a stranger

So off to the Arts Center to see Vesta. Vesta Sargent lived across the street from my mom and my Aunt Dorothy as they were growing up in Riley, Kansas. My mom and Aunt used to babysit Vesta when she was small. It was so good to see her and be able to introduce my children to her. I haven't seen her since I left Manhattan in 1984 and she looked just as good on Saturday as she did in 1984. I swear that she hasn't aged a bit. Our time was limited because the Missoula Children's Theatre with Manhattan area children had a 3:00 show of Rumpelstiltskin, but we squeezed in a quick tour of the Arts Center. As a kid growing up in Manhattan, I participated in the summer children's theatre and it was a great experience and I looked forward to it every year. If you live in Manhattan, please be sure to support the Manhattan Arts Center. It is a great organization not only for children of the city, but the city itself. Oh and one more thing....if you know anyone at the Manhattan Mercury, please remind them that Manhattan has a local gem in the Manhattan Arts Center and they are consistently missing the opportunity to help it shine. Okay so I will get off my soap box.

Done seeing Vesta and off to Dillon's to pick up a few items for dinner. On our way in who do I run into??? None other than Tina...yup, Tina Horocofsky. She was on her way to play cards and watch the basketball game so with hugs and kisses we decide that we will try to get together for lunch on Monday.

Up and down the aisles trying to find items in a store that is remodelling and hitting myself in the head with the door to the orange juice - limited my patience to meet a stranger. But while checking out, Doone and I decided that we probably should stop by liquor to get something stronger than beer to drink. As most of you know, I am not a beer girl...never have been. It always tastes thick and well, just plain nasty to me. Cruising up Tuttle Creek Blvd., we pull into the liquor store and Mason proclaims that I should meet a stranger inside. Great idea and we all jump out (yes....that would include my two children) and head toward the door. Oh, hold the comments. To get a clear picture....picture this....liquor store is attached the gas station/convenience store and in the west corner of the parking lot is a car wash. And as I glance over my shoulder toward the west, I see several hunters in their orange hunting vest, camo caps, and coveralls standing in the one of the bays of the car wash. Nothing out of the ordinary...I figured that someone is in the gas station and they are watching over their guns.

Inside - two girls working the counter, the 4 of us and two hunters. "Oh, lord," I thought to myself....."please let them be done hunting because booze and bullets don't mix." Mason whispers to me..."go meet them." So I maneuver around the vodka, the tequila and wine racks over the check-out counter. With hand extended, I interrupt their comments about the bottle of wine, on the counter, titled B*tch and went into my spiel, "Hi, my name is Donna..." In a blink, I was shaking hands with Dave and then Dan. And with the same enthusiasm, they began to tell me about their day of hunting. It started out cold and in the snow and within an hour of being out in the field, it turned humid and muddy. But they got some nice size pheasants and now they were going to go home clean the birds and have some drinks. Whew. I told them that when I first saw them I was fearful that they were purchasing the alcohol before hunting. They just stared at me as if I called them "chicks" and they said "that would be stupid." I nodded in a agreement. With their adult beverages loaded into brown papers bags and paid for ($50 and some change), I wished them a great evening and headed back over to Doone and the kids who were looking at wine coolers. As they walked out I heard Dave say to Dan, "That's kinda cool that she is meeting a new person everyday." Or did Dan say that to Dave...oh bother, I am not sure.

As we left the liquor store (box of margaritas and fuzzy navel wine coolers), we glanced over at the car wash and they were still there. Washing off their ATV. I shouted across the parking lot and told Dave and Dan goodbye. Of course the first thing that I say when I get in the car is "In my day, we hunted old school...by walking. Not riding around on a ATV." I then asked, "Does anyone remember which one was as Dave and which one was Dan?" Nope. And then for some reason, Mason asked a questions about someone's bra size and Gray threw out DD which morpher into the moniker - "Double D at the Liquor Store."

We got home and told everyone about the Double D's. And as the sun set, I assume the Double D's were cleaning the birds and drinking; we on the other hand, were drinking and watching eggs boil. It was a strange day, but that's how we roll in Kansas.

Dot, Vessi, and The Smurf Bathroom

2010-01-19T15:05:00.006-06:00

Since I have been out of town, I have several new strangers to introduce to you. Thursday of last week Grayson was able to choose where I met my stranger and she decided that the Mercer House (Retirement Center close to our house) would be our destination. Once she and I was able to buzzed in, I met Sandra who was an assistant there. While I was talking to Sandra, Grayson went over and met Dot. Dot's first question to Gray was "Who are you?" A fair question as "little people" aren't seen there too often. And not to deterred by Dot's directness, Gray said, "I'm Grayson." I turned back toward Sandra as she explained to me that we could come visit as long as we came before dinner time which appeared to start about 4:30 and ended around 6:30ish. After that Sandra said that most of the residents (which is currently about 15) head to their rooms and usually watch TV and get ready for bed. I told her that I remember that my Grandma(Zeisset)Payne used to eat dinner around 4:45 pm or 5:00 pm and liked to be in bed by 7:00 pm. She typically got up around 4 am to start her day. Sandra indicated the same happened there. The phone rang and Sandra excused herself to take the call and Grayson continued her conversation with Dot. Dot told her that she had been a teacher in Minnesota and had been in Texas for about seven years. She wanted to know if Grayson had a driver's license and Grayson laughed at her and said, "I'm just 11." I could tell that Dot was growing inpatient because she told Sandra that she was heading back to her room without her. Sandra told her to hold on just a second and Sandra explained that Dot wanted to get back to her room so that she could take her medicine and settle into her room for the night. I told Sandra that we would let her go and we would call before we came up to visit next weekend. I gave Sandra our names and my cellphone number and Grayson loudly told Dot goodbye. As Gray and I walked to our car, she said, "I wish they would put a retirement center across the road from our house cuz' I would be there everyday." Grayson loves old people...truly adores them. I can't wait to go again and have her visit.

I will be completely honest with you...last Friday I did not meet anyone since I was scrambling around trying to get the kids and I ready to fly Friday night to Kansas for the long weekend. However, I will tell you that out flight attendant's name was Vessi and she was from the Bahamas. And was quite the stickler for her pre-flight duties. The kids and I were seated in row 17 - the last row in the plane which backed up the lavatory. Vessi's checklist must have included checking the bathroom for stow-aways and her routine went like this, walk toward the back of the plane, open the door, quick look, nobody and back to the front of the plane....five times in less than 20 minutes. We just started laughing every time she headed toward the back of the plane. Now, there is one thing she didn't do in her pre-flight check and that was to put the toilet seat down because the minute the plane took off...BANG....and for a minute the kids and I thought either a gun just went off or by dang there was someone hiding in there. Once we realized that neither one was happening and our hearts slowed down - we started laughing. The only good thing about sitting in that last row was that we were served our drinks first. YEAH. The worst thing about sitting in the last row was that 4 men and 1 woman could not hold their bladders for 60 minutes. Really??? We were given small drinks and they couldn't hold it??? I felt like telling each one of them....."We were just at an airport with full facilities and you couldn't use the bathroom before you left?" "Oh no, you have to wait and use the smurf bathroom that when my seat is in its upright position is up against the thin outer wall of where you are peeing." With each visit I wrapped my coat around my face and nose in the same fashion that Vessi demonstrated should the cabin lose pressure and the oxygen mask deploy. "Put the mask over you nose and mouth, put strap over your head while pulling the two shorts straps tight to ensure a seal; and breath normally." I repeated this four more times and each time Grayson either gave me the thumbs up OK with "Only pee" or squished up face of "Oh, that one was bad."

For anyone who would like a picture of this - let me know as Grayson captured one of those moments with her phone.

A Triple Shot of Strangers and Dancing With The Steamer

2010-01-13T18:43:00.009-06:00

Yesterday (Tuesday) I had pleasure of having lunch with my best buddy, Trish. It was a great day. I had seen her since before Christmas so we were long overdue to catch-up. We met at Panera Bread and it was busy,but we found a two-top over by the windows, away from the masses. We talked about the past, present, and future, but most of all we laughed. Trish ate well - soup and salad. I had a tomato/mozzarella sandwich and small bag chips. I gave Trish a quick summary of how I decided to meet people and I told her that I would meet someone on out way out. He was standing in line waiting to order. Not a tall man, maybe about my height. Dark hair wearing a light purple shirt with a dark purple tie (shout out to K-State - yes that is why I picked him). Gave him my spiel and I meet David. He was in a bit of a hurry to eat so I wished him a great day and he bid me good-bye with a "God Bless You." It was a great day - good food, good friend, good fun. Oh yeah and the temperature was in the 50's on Tuesday.

Today (Wednesday), I had the pleasure of meeting two strangers at the discretion of my driver and the other car occupants (Mason was driving, Britni (Mason's girlfriend) and Grayson. This has become an exciting way to meet my strangers. So there I am in the back seat, not knowing where we were going to end up and I kept repeating, "I don't want to go too far from home." Driving further away from home and in the direction of Dallas, I was afraid of where we might end up. So again, I repeated, "I don't want to end up too far from home" and this time Grayson says, "You have said that like 4 times." Hhhmmm, I guess because I didn't think that anyone was listening to me - duh. So with a quick u-turn; where did we end my??? Well of course - a baseball practice. Okey Dokey. Not a chick in sight as I stroll up to the "dads" standing there chewing the fat while their boys ran around the diamond. You would have thought an alien was approaching because they all stopped talking when I stopped at the nearest "dad." Gave him the spiel and extended my hand with "My name is Donna." He shook my hand with a "Hi, my name is Rusty." With the other "dads" staring at him, he got uncomfortable and starting moving away from me. I think he wanted this conversation to end. So I asked him what he did and he said "What do you mean?" I said, "Are you a magician, exterminator, professional yodeler?" And he said a "Service Technician." Pacing back and forth and I really think that he was trying to get away from me. I took the clue and went back to the car and as soon as I got into the car, the kids all said to me, "He looked like he was scared of you and I think he was trying to get away from you." They were laughing and I was laughing. I am sure that Rusty and his "dad" friends are still laughing too. Heading toward home - we made one more stop.

Wayne's Wing Mart/Beauty Supply/Deli/Beer and Wine. Now for just a minute close your eyes and get an mental image of what might inside. There were bars on the bars that were on the doors!!! I walked into sensory overload. I wasn't even sure which way to go. Looked to the left and there was a huge plexi-glass enclosure with a guy behind in it. In front of me where t-shirts and various sundries for sale and to the right....Oh my lord. Along the right side of the wall and across the back wall were.....Wigs...Afro-American Wigs. All on Afro-American heads. Short wigs, long wigs, blonde wigs, black wig, magenta wigs.......well I think that you get the picture. I couldn't take my eyes off of them...it was crazy. Two guys ahead of me purchasing french fries, chicken and lottery tickets finished and I moved toward the big plexi-glass cage. Saying my spiel, I thrust my hand in the little mouse hole like opening. And I think that the dude thought I was going to rob him. I said my name is Donna and he reluctantly told me that his name was Peter. His eyes are darting back and forth and he keeps looking at my little memo pad and pen - I don't think that he could comprehend that I was not robbing him. I told him that I driven by this place many times and often wondered what was inside. I asked him if business was good and he said, "Yes." I kept turning around and looking at the wigs. I had just never seen wigs sold in the same place that you could buy chicken wings. I started getting the feeling that Peter was going to push the panic button so I headed back to the car. And once in the car, Mason locked all the doors and slammed the car into reverse. I think that he thought I would come flying out like Bo Duke doing the hood slide if things went crazy, but instead I just walked out and I began to tell them all about the wigs. I may have to go back just to check out all the wigs - that was just too crazy.

Talk about crazy, I have to share a funny moment from last night. Grayson decided that she was going to take a shower in our bathroom,but wanted me to stay upstairs with her so she wasn't alone. She had "her" music playing and she was singing at the top of her lungs. So I decided that I would dance the way she does. Oh my goodness, I had things flapping and flinging in all different directions. And to top it all off - I was watching myself in the mirror. I looked like a deranged clown who had escaped from the circus. Lucky for me, a slow song came on so that I could catch my breath, but then I realized I had no one to dance with so I found a partner. I started dancing with the steamer that we have in our bathroom. It it the kind that is on wheels and has the long pole to drape clothes on. So there I was dancing around the bathroom with my new found dancing partner. Grayson opened the door and asked "What the heck are you doing" and I told her that I was slow dancing with my date. And then out the mouth of babes, she says "Are you dancing with Donnie Magnuson???" Huh??? What??? I about fell on the floor laughing and once I picked myself up - I told her that I don't think that I had ever even danced with him. So I continued to dance with my steam presser. Slow dance was over and I began to Crunk and Tic Toc Dance until I flat ran out of breath. I need to rest. Went downstairs to get a bottle of water. I asked Chris and Mason if they heard me dancing and Chris told me that it, "Sounded like a herd of water buffalo running across the floor."

Quite frankly, I probably looked like a water buffalo trying to pull herself out of river, but this water buffalo had a great time.

With Three; You Get Germ-X and Egg Rolls

2010-01-11T20:10:00.005-06:00

My to-do list for today was as follows:
1. Kids off to school
2. Doctor's Appointment
3. Had to meet three strangers since Saturday and Sunday - I watched too much football.

Kids off to school...no time to meet any strangers before I get to the doctor's. Arrived at the doctor office and really couldn't meet anyone there since I was the first appointment of the day and I actually arrived before my doctor got there. Done with the appointment and I decided that I would meet the first person that I came across. And there he stood right inside the door. He said hello to me first and moved right over with my hand extended and started into my spiel,"Hi, my name is Donna..." Larry is the Valet Supervisor at Richardson Methodist/Baylor. He seemed young - maybe in his 30's, wearing a stocking cap as it was about 28 degrees out this morning, solid looking sneakers, and well spoken. I asked if he liked his job and he did because he gets to meet a lot of people; from the medical personnel who work in the building or patients coming for appointments. He came into this job as the supervisor, but it doesn't really have a career path so he would like open a car detail business. He has already purchased a second truck that he intends to fix up and use for his business. I explained to him that where I used to, there was guy who would wash and detail cars and he would set-up on the lower level of the garage. He was out of the elements and always appeared to have a good stream of business. I asked him if he would be able to get the contract at the medical plaza; he said that he had never thought about and he thanked me for the idea. I wished Larry a great day. I told him good luck with the business and I would check in with him again in July when I came for my next appointment.

With a sick son at home, I decided to run by the store and pick-up a few things. It was a slow morning at the Wal-Mart, the checkers were just hanging out waiting for customers. There was Linda anxiously waiting to check someone out; anyone out. I was the anyone. I would guess her to be in her late sixties, wearing glasses, a short sensible haircut and sporting thin rubber gloves on (I am guessing for germ control) - Linda starting scanning my items. After she was done, she told me that I was smart to wait until this morning to come shopping as Saturday was crazy with all the Cowboy fans coming to buy chips and party items to watch the game. Since she was talkative, I told her my name was Donna and went into my new chant. I asked her if she had worked at Wal-Mart long - she said about 17 months (I think) and then I asked what she did prior. "I worked in employment verifications." I told that I had been in a similar line of work before being made redundant from a corporate purchase. Then she started asking me questions, "Have you been out of work long?" "Have you applied with the government yet?" "Did you know that the government has great benefits?" I answered, "September,but paid through December; No; and So I have heard." She proceeded to give me a couple of website addresses so that I could get started applying with the government. And for a minute, I thought that her body had been possessed by Chris - he keeps saying the same thing about getting a job. Lucky for me or her...another customer came up and with that I headed for the door.

I had noticed her on the way in - bundled up in her white bubble jacket, long cream denim skirt with bobby socks and tennis shoes and hair pulled back in a bun. I popped over and asked her if many people thanked her for a good job. Then I noticed that she had really clear blue eyes. So I told her thanks for doing her job and asked her if she was really cold hanging out by the front door helping and assisting customers. She said that the guys that pulled carts had a colder job than she did - she had a point. I asked if she liked her job and she said that it paid the bills, but the front door was really cold in the winter and really warm in the summer. With my spiel concluded names exchanged. I extended my hand to Tiffany and wished her a good day......then.......as I was shaking her hand, I saw it. Her runny nose. And then a million questions started running through my head...was it running before I approached? Do you think that she had Germ-X that she was using? My gut and my head screamed - "HELL, NO." I am not even sure if she was talking or I was talking when I retrieved my hand from hers and then as if all of my fears were confirmed - her hand went straight to nose and she used the back of her hand to wipe at her nose. I thought I was going to blow my cookies right there and holding back a dry heave - I half trotted/half sprinted to my car throwing another goodbye and good day over my shoulder to Tiffany. I unloaded my groceries and tried to hardly touch anything in my car. I pulled into the garage (without hitting anything) and ran straight into the house and slathered my hands with Germ-X. And with a deep breath and clean hands, I brought the groceries into the house.

So where do the egg rolls come in??? Tonight for dinner, we had orange chicken, rice, and egg rolls.

At Sunset on Friday - A Two For One

2010-01-09T18:29:00.008-06:00

Last night, Grayson had a sleepover so as a family we decided to take her. Mason went because he thought he could convince us to go out to eat. I went because I needed to meet a new stranger. Once Gray was dropped out and Mason was somewhat satisfied that we were not going out to eat - there was an emotional shift in the car. It soon became, "Where is the weirdest place we can take mom to meet a stranger." First, let's go the funeral home....thank goodness there was no one there - or at least in the parking lot. Second, became a fire station and then we thought better of it. Third became the Buddhist Temple. And had it not been for the fact that Chris could not find an easy way to get into the parking lot - I would have been meeting the Buddhist Buddha people. Last, a strip center mall that had a T.V repair shop. Really, a TV repair shop - I chuckled and under my breath said, "What do they do there???"

Now, think about this for a moment. Do you know anyone who takes and has a TV fixed these days? I remember growing up and if we needed to replace a tube in the TV we went down to Geren's and got what my dad needed. But now??? By the time a TV "breaks", I think it is cheaper to buy a new one. So S&J Electronics was the selected destination. And to my surprise it was busy and packed with TVs.

I took a step back in line as I never want to interfere in the "real" business transactions. So I waited, listened, and noticed there was no real room to move in this shop. A small lane had been carved out to get to and from the counter. There were TVs stacked on the counter, there were TVs on the floor and there were TVs stacked on top on each other. In front of me was a woman I guess to be in her 30's. Who, a year ago, dropped off her TV and was circling back around to see if it was still there and fixed. TV still there - couldn't be fixed. She was dressed warmly against the cold. Black leather jacket, gloves, a hat. From standing there, I gathered that TVs get dropped off for fixing and then people never come to pick them up so they get sold. She turned to me and asked it I was there to look at purchasing a TV. Thanks for opening, "No." And into my spiel, "My name is Donna...." and I extended my hand to the man behind the counter.

"Hi, my name is JJ," he said. Young man probably in his 30's as well. I asked him, "Did you always want to own a TV repair shop?" "No, but things happen and you have to make do,: he said. I asked if he liked it and he told me, "You have to be happy doing what you are doing." I shook my head and acknowledged the point of a path not intended, but one that he took. At this time, the woman turns to me and says, "You can meet me too. It's a twofer." She removed her glove and extended her hand and told me that her name was Adrian. I asked Adrian what she did and she told me that she was an Office Manager for a Dental Practice. I asked her if she always wanted to be an Office Manager and she told me, "No." "I was a middle school science teacher in Mississippi before I came to Texas. But once I started teaching here it became evidently quickly that the only goal Texas has was to teach towards the TAKS test. And I didn't want to be part of introducing a generation of children to reality that they were not prepared for." Wow - someone who took a stand for what she believed. "So are you going to write a book about the people that you met?", she asked me. "Uh, well, I don't think so, but if I do Adrian, I will come back here and ask JJ for your address and make sure that you get a book." I then turned to JJ and said with a smile, "Don't loose her address, I might be back."

I wished JJ and Adrian a great evening and popped back to the car with Mason and Chris still patiently waiting. "What took you so long. It should take about 5 minutes to meet someone - Bada Bing Bada Boom and you where in there for 34 minutes." I buckled my seat belt and said, "I was lucky, I got a two for one. You guys picked a great place - you should pick more spots for me." And then I realized what I had said and visions of the Buddhist Temple started flashing before my eyes. I might have dodged the bullet for the time being, but I bet I end up there before this is over.

Moon Pies, Marooned, and the Miller Beer Man

2010-01-07T17:05:00.003-06:00

Sing it with me, "Baby, it's cold outside." You did great, but there were a couple of you who just hummed...I saw you. So with it being brisk outside, I had decided today that I would meet the mailman. I figured, I would listen for him and then just bee bop outside, grab the mail, introduce myself and run back inside, write my blog. So all morning I listened for him. Similar to waiting for the ice cream man in the summer time when I was a kid. You know, you think that you hear his bell so you go running to the window, look both ways and wonder....where the heck is he? The same happened with the mailman.....I would think that I heard him and I would run to the front windows and realize it was the Fed-Ex man across the street, or the UPS man turning the corner or the Rooms to Go truck. Hhhmmm, this is like trying to catch a snipe on a hot summer evening at Tuttle Creek (a little shout out to the Little Apple). And then as if angels descended, I heard the mailman. But you trying to run with your jeans daintily draped between your knees and ankles. YES - you guessed....I was in the bathroom. And by the time I got to the door, he turned the corner. Grrrrr....on to Plan B.

I would have to get in my car and go meet a stranger today. YES, YES, YES - I know that was the whole purpose of the new years resolution, but it was chilly outside....in other words, whah, whah, whah. At the stoplight, I notice that the Miller Beer truck is at the 7-11 so I decide right there, right now that I am going to meet the Miller Beer man. Quick turn and I pull into the parking lot. Pop inside and survey all that the 7-11 has to offer. Chips, oil, vinegar, hot dogs and then I spied the most delectable, horrible for you, best road trip food ever created.....THE CHOCOLATE MOON PIE. I purchase 4 to take home. The Miller Beer Man is stacking crates on his dolly and with moon pie purchase in hand - I saunter over. Give him my spiel.... "Hi, my name is Donna......" And he just looks at me and nods. So I say, "Hi, my name is Donna" and I extend my hand. He, again, just smiles and l looks at me. Did he not speak English???? So this time, I say "I am Donna, what is your name Miller Beer Man?" As if it finally registered, he said, "My name is Darren." Okey Dokey then. Head as thick as his forearm and it was just cold enough that I didn't really care if he liked his job. So I unlocked my car, key in the ignition and absolutely nothing. Zero, Zip, Nada. Really?!?!?!

Once I say my goodbyes to my new found stranger, I just want to get in my car and leave. And right now, I was going nowhere. My car had no power. So I tired the ignition a couple more times...same silence. CRAP....I got here - I should be able to get home. Problem must be under the hood. So in a brief second of brilliance, I decide to pull off my coat and pull my hair up - you know to change my appearance and maybe Darren, the Miller Beer Man, would think I was someone else and not notice that I was still here. The last thing I really want is to have a lengthy conversation. I get out of my car, go around the back to get to the front, lift the hood and it appears that the "green" side of the battery cable has come loose so I wiggle it back on. Back around the back of the car and unnoticed. Again nothing. Once again, back outside, go around the back of the car, lift the hood and pound the crap of the battery cable and then I hear it. "Hey, Donna - do you need help???" And I stop dead in my tracks. Yup, Darren the Miller Beer Man spots me and was not fooled by my no coat and hair pulled up disguise. I waved gingerly like I mean to be standing right there in the parking lot and chuckled like a pro and said, "Oh, no I got it - just a loose cable." Hood down, go around the front of my car - get in and start praying "please start, please start, please start." I didn't even lift my head when I tried the ignition again. VROOM.....SUCCESS. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you," I mouth to the top of my car.

As I backed out of my parking spot, I was pleasantly surprised that Darren, the Miller Beer Man had climbed into the back of his truck for another load....whew....I pressed a little heavier on the gas and zoomed out of there.

I am just thinking out loud. Do you think, if I had put on my sunglasses maybe Darren wouldn't have noticed me, two spots over with the hood up on my car??? Hhhmmm, I am not sure either. But just in case, I am putting my pink wig in my car.

Mirror Update, Oprah, and Gladys

2010-01-06T18:01:00.004-06:00

Quick update...my passenger mirror is doing so well that I can see the road stripes and speed bumps with great clarity. In other words, it is starting to fall off and I am pretty sure that with the rain and wind that is coming tomorrow - all the electrical tape with lift and it will dangle as eloquently as a trapeze artist. I will give you another update tomorrow.

People, people everywhere - which one to meet? Today, I decided to pop over to the post office. Not a busy day, but a few people in line. While I waited, I took inventory of things. 2830 boxes that are either rented or can be rented by individuals or businesses. Prices to rent those boxes range from $22-$410 a month. First thought, what kind of mail do you receive that requires you to have a post box that costs 410 bucks a month? I am not sure that I would want to be that important to get that kind of mail. Of course, the necessary items are within arm length: stamp catalogs, pamphlets for young men to register with the selective service, "if it fits, it ships" boxes, padded envelopes, and the passport area. Then I hear, "Can I help the next person in line?" Hhhmmm......I look around and I am the only person in line....okay so I go with it and reply, "That would be me." With no letters or packages in hand, I get the quizzical - "what do you need" look. So I break into my introduction, "Hi, my name is Donna, blah, blah...new years resolution, blah blah...." and when done - I extend my hand and say, "Hi, I'm Donna." She extended her hand back and said, "Hi, I'm Gladys." I told her that my goal was to write about everyone that I meet over the next 365 days in which she replied - "I look forward to seeing you on Oprah because then I would be on Oprah." And she chuckled. What I great comment......unlikely to happen as Oprah is going to retire and she would never have an ordinary person on her show, but still a cool comment. I asked if she liked her job and within earshot of a co-worker she said, "I like it. It pays the bills." What??? That is the second time in two days that I have heard that...really....am I going to find that more people just do a job than doing something that they want to do??? I pray not because that would be a sad commentary. "Good enough," I said. I wonder if she would have replied differently had no one else been around???

I wished her a great day and turned to leave and as I was leaving, I hear her over my shoulder say, "That's kinda neat." Not sure who, but someone said, "What?" and Gladys said, "She is meeting a new person every single day for a year and writing about it."

I kept walking and thought to myself. Yeah, Gladys it is kinda neat

Global Chilling, Black Electrical Tape, and Anna

2010-01-05T15:59:00.005-06:00

The kids went back to school today and after 2 weeks of sleeping in - it was hard to hear the alarm go off at 6:15 am. This is when I wished that I had a coffee pot right next to the bed so I could take a swig off an intravenous drip before I dart out from under my warm comfy blankets. It was equally jolting picking up the newspaper since it was a brisk 22 degrees and I was in my jammies; however, this is nothing compared to my friends and family who live
further North. They are caught in an arctic freeze with snow piling up in foot increments. Anybody heard from Al Gore lately....nah....me either.

Off toward school to drop off Gray - uneventful. Pulling into the driveway would prove otherwise. Tuesday is trash and recycle day for us. Recycle bin one side of the driveway and trash bin on the other side. We have lived in our house for 13 years and neither the driveway or the garage has ever moved, but I have the uncanny knack for hitting the right front quarter panel into the garage on a semi-regular basis. Today would be no different except for today as I was dodging "the bins" - BOOM - I took off my right side mirror. Didn't just ding it - nope - I popped that bad boy so hard it banged against the car as I continued to pull into the garage. I am such a dork. So there in the garage, in my jammies (yes, I wore my jammies to drop her off at school - oh don't go there - you have never driven somewhere in your jammies?!?!?!) I am trying to fix my mirror. Hhhmmm...it will not pop back on. I pause and look around the garage and in my best Martha Stewart moment - I get to fixing' my mirror. A pair of scissors and black electrical tape and from a distant it looks good. Ok - maybe not good, but doesn't look broken either. I guess it is fortunate that I have a black car so the black electrical tape worked well. Would it hold??? Guess I will find out later. I almost forgot about my mirror until I pulled into the library. It held and is still holding - for now. So I decided today mosey over to the library to say hello.

In hindsight finding someone to say "hello" to at the library is a little more difficult than I thought. First of all, Tuesday is a busy day for the reference librarian or just a lot of needy readers on Tuesday. Second, just to dang quiet to have a conversation. So I decided to flip through a couple of magazines in the "periodical room" and for an hour and half - not one soul came into the room until I had already stood up and ready to leave for a different part of the library. Nice man with a little girl - maybe his granddaughter whose only request was to xerox her hand on the copier. She got her wish as I moved on. Reference librarian still busy so I decide to "meet" the check-out librarian. Who really isn't a librarian at all. In my head, I kept singing "Miriam, the Librarian" duet with Robert Prescott and Shirley Jones from the Music Man and I thought wouldn't it be something if her name was Miriam. As I approached the check-out desk, I surveyed "Miriam". Long white hair below her shoulders styled in a 2009 retro-Farrah do. Glasses (required part of the librarian uniform), probably wearing sensible shoes. She glanced up and with a slightly parted smiled - said not a word. She was younger than she looked from a distance and with a bit of mascara and blush she would have been stunning with her pretty white hair. So I asked her; "Can I ask you a question?" She replied, "Yes". "Did you always want to be a librarian," I asked. And in a quiet librarian whisper she replied, "I am not a librarian." Hhhmm - Really??!?!? I thought everyone who worked at a librarian had to be a librarian. So I asked, "Do you like books?" She said, "I had never really thought about it until I started working here - I just needed a job." At this juncture, she took a step back from the desk like I was a leper so I thought it best to tell her of my mission. With an extended hand I said, "Hi, my name is Donna and my new years resolution is to meet one new person a day. And I just wanted to say hello." "My name is Anna - it's nice to meet you," she said as she shook my hand. Librarians are short on words and long on snarly glances so I knew with that I had really worn out my welcome unless I was checking out a book. So I wished her a good-day. She like-wise to me and I left.

Quick survey of my car and the mirror is still holding. SWEET. Drove home thinking I have 363 more times to say, "Hi, my name is Donna...." and wondering if it sounds too ordinary??? But then I realized, I should be thankful that my name is not "Susanderaninomisusionnestulolpestnert" which, according to the Internet, is the longest girls name recorded. She lives in Japan.

Domo arigato, mom and dad....."Hi, my name is Donna" works just fine.

Resolutions, Revelations, and Gene

2010-01-04T19:19:00.007-06:00

First Monday of January 2010.....resolutions, revelations, reservations. Which group do you belong to???? I think at the first of the year, we all belong to resolutions. Full of promise, full of hope that this year will be THE year. Then about June we belong to the reservations group - you know - should've, would've, could've with our resolutions. NO explanation needed. And then about October, we belong to revelations - next year, should I make a resolution?; Will I disappointment myself again by not keeping most of my resolutions? And the circle continues.

But that is not what this blog is about.....this blog is about a dream that I had week or so ago. As most of you know, I had a blast making the 12 days of desserts and writing about my experience. And I kept wondering what could I write about??? Everyday, I asked myself...what would be different; something new; something that could be done no matter where I found myself??? I got still and listened and still nothing. It took me getting really still and sleeping for it to come to me....I dreamt about it. I dreamt about a phonebook and calling all the people in the phone book. A bit cumbersome and not really personally, but there was something there. And I woke up and decided that in 2010 - I would write about people. Just ordinary people who cross my path every single day. And here is the kicker - these are people I don't know yet but by the end of the year I will have met 365 new people. How long has it been since you met a new person? Not someone you met through a friend, but just walked up and said, "Hello, my name is Donna. Who are you?" I can't really remember the last time I said that to a complete stranger. Until today.

I saw him when I went into Wal-Mart. He was greeting people, getting carts, and tagging return items. I thought to myself - if he is still here when I check-out. He will be my first "new"acquaintance. I went through my list, getting things I needed and some I didn't and as I began to ready my groceries for checkout - I anxiously glanced in the direction of the door. I saw him still over there. I was a bit nervous, no planned introduction - what the heck was I thinking?!?!?! There are people who get killed everyday for walking up to complete strangers, but I was committed so over toward him I strolled with my full cart of bagged goods. He saw me coming. And as I neared, he was a true gentleman and rose from the stool where he'd been sitting - and stood gallantly I am guessing late 70's; a little humped shouldered; wearing a ball cap that covered a full-head of white hair; full set of teeth as he smiled at me. Blue long-sleeve shirt, khakis, and sneakers. He probably thought I had a problem or that I wanted to complain about something. But not today. It played out like this:

"Hi, are you having a good day today?" He replied, "Why, yes I am." I said, "My name is Donna." and I extended my hand. He shook it as a gentleman would and said, "My name is Gene." I went on to explain that my new years resolution was to meet one new person everyday and "you are my first new person to meet." He was a bit taken aback either by the fact that he thought I might be daft or that someone had taken just a few moments to notice and say hello. I told him that I was glad to have met him today and to "have a great rest of the day." He told me to have a great day as well and then said, "God Bless you." I told him, "Thank-you - I think he already has." And I headed for the door and toward my car. I loaded my groceries into my car - I felt content. Not because I was heading home with one less thing to do on my to-do list, but because I met Gene today. I may have to find out more about Gene - like what did he do before he came to work for Wal-Mart, but that is another day - another story.

I didn't start on January 1st, so I will have to catch up on 3 people somewhere along the way, but I am sure that I can fit them in. Who and what will cross my path tomorrow???

Day 12: In French - Buche de Noel; In English - Dog Turd Cake

2009-12-20T17:03:00.006-06:00

The last of my dessert series and I am not sure if I am happy or sad. I can't begin to tell you how much I don't want to see another stick of butter, cups of powder sugar, whole eggs, broken eggs, egg whites or egg yolk - all to satisfy my curiosity. Oh and cocoa powder to -I think that I have a fine layer of it throughout my entire kitchen.

So Day 12 was in French a Buche de Noel; in English a Yule log. It consist of a very airy cake that is rolled with cocoa butter cream inside and then covered with the remaining butter cream to "look" like a log. I started with the butter cream....simple enough. Get into the fridge to chill - no worries. On to the "log" or cake. It calls for a jelly roll pan of which I don't have so I decide to substitute for a shallow cookie sheet. In my mind this should be fine and I am pretty impressed with my ability to think on the fly. Cake requires two steps: whipped egg whites and then fold in the other cocoa cake mixture. Yup, I am getting this down to a science and I am cleaning the kitchen as I go with this recipe. It is a well orchestrated ballet of mixing and cleaning!!! So the cake part is mixed and I gently lay the mixture on the parchment lined cookie sheet. Into the oven for 15-20 minutes at 375 degrees OR when it lightly springs back.......hhhmmm - ok.

I need to point out - the recipe NEVER indicates that the cake will grow.....and grow some more. This is when it becomes quite clear that the shallow cookie sheet was not a good idea. As I am sitting on the step stool staring into the oven - I keep praying to the dear departed soul of Julia Child......"Please have mercy on me and let me cake stop before it grows out of the cookie sheet and burns onto the bottom of my oven." I threw some salt over my shoulder for good luck - threw in a few Hail Mary's, the Lord's Prayer, and for good measure I turned toward Mecca just in case. THANK-YOU JESUS.....it stopped growing as it reached the end of the parchment paper. Whew....catastrophe averted. Cake appears to "spring back to the touch" so I pull it out of the oven.

Now the recipe states that you have to take a knife and go around the edges of the cake and then turn it out onto a powder sugar dusted towel. Hhhmmm - ok.....I get a knife go around the edges. Lay out a clean towel and dust it with powder sugar. I flip the cake out onto the towel and it was like flipping a 12 egg omelet with a spork. Yup you guessed it...it broke....I quickly piece it back together, but not before I leave a layer stuck to the towel and then notice that the cake IS NOT cooked in the middle. CRAP - I am pretty dang sure this is not right. But I rally on....I get the short end of the cake and begin to roll it. It kinda rolls and I try to shape it as I go. Here is where I get the brilliant idea that once I get it rolled - I will just put in back in the oven for about 5 minutes and it will finish cooking. Not so much - I started to deflate so I pulled it out of the oven because the whole goal was to cool the rolled cake and then unroll it so that you add cover it with butter cream and then re-roll before icing it. So I let it cool for about 45 minutes.

As the cake is cooling and I am lamenting how to get the butter cream into the middle - Mason has a brilliant idea.....use the meat injector. It has a long syringe. EXCELLENT!!! I will inject the butter cream into the cake - it will be perfect. Cake is cooled and I have the meat injector syringe in hand and ready to insert into the butter cream.

I get some butter cream into the syringe and as I inject it into the cake - it blows out the other side of the cake. Must have been a one-time error. So I try again..this time the plunger part of syringe gets too much air into it and it blows out the bottom on to the counter top. Hhhmm - I am sure that the third time will be the charm.....Nope; not so much.....syringe in cake and sure as shit - it blows butter cream through the cake and onto the stove top and this time leaves a nice size hole in the cake. I am now bound and determined to finish this dang cake when Chris walks into the kitchen and promptly says, "It looks like you are trying to decorate a dog turd with diarrhea." I thought that I was going to pee my pants laughing. It did look like a dog turd and where the butter cream had blown out looked like diarrhea.

Even a stupid rat knows when to jump off a sinking ship so I abandoned the butter cream and I decorate my dog turd cake. Add coconut for snow, red and green sprinkles so they look like holly berries and run a fork through the icing to make it look like bark on a tree. Iced and decorated gave the illusion that it was good, but I know underneath the icing it was a bloody mess. I was afraid to eat it - went to my mom's to watch the Cowboys game instead.

So this morning with a cup of coffee in hand - I decide that I would try the buche de noel. I slice into and amazingly..... it has not changed. It still looks, well...bad. I decide that a small bite might be in order and Grayson decides to jump into fray and try it too because "it looks pretty." So on the count of three, we both take bites and before I could count to five - we are both spitting it out. At least Grayson made it to the trash - I spit mine in the sink. It was bad - too much chocolate, too raw, and too horrible. I am confident that I will not be trying this recipe again.

I have to be honest I did have fun over the last 12 days and I hoped you enjoyed it too. And to recap:
Day One - Pineapple Cranberry Upside-down Cake
Day Two - Napoleons
Day Three - Peppermint Meltaways
Day Four - Peanut Brittle
Day Five - Polish Honey Cake
Day Six - Chocolate Biscotti
Day Seven - Buckeyes
Day Eight - Ginger Tea Cakes with Lemon Glaze
Day Nine - Egg Nog Pie
Day Ten - Chocolate Truffles
Day Eleven - Divinity
Day Twelve - Buche de Noel

I know this sounds crazy, but I am taking suggestions as to what I should go for the next twelve days so send me your ideas. For right now, I will try Christmas Cocktails and the first one should be called a "Christmas Colonic." I will take my on the rocks!!!

Day 11: Cirque de Soleil, Meteorologist, and Wine - It Must be Divinity

2009-12-18T17:51:00.007-06:00

Clear blue sky this morning and low humidity - it must be THE day to make divinity. Horror stories abound about Divinity and I hope that most of them are exaggerated folklore. My Grandma Duncan said, "Never make Divinity on a cloudy day." My mom told me, "Good luck, I have never been able to make it." Yikes.......I may be in trouble because my mom is a great cook and makes great pastries and candies. I loved Christmas growing up since we had all kinds of neat to eat treats at our house. But just to be sure I ran to the window one more time - yup - still no clouds.....must be good to go.

The deal with this recipe is that there are not many ingredients; however, it requires the same amount of precision timing as the Marine Drum and Bugle Corps. Ooorah!!! Sugar, corn syrup, water in a pan on the stove. Stir once to dissolve the sugar and DON'T stir again until the temperature reaches 250 degrees. The recipe was very specific...don't stir - I didn't. While the sugar concoctions were turning into molten lava. I need to beat 3 egg white to stiff peaks. Egg whites beating on the counter.....lava boiling on the stove. I move between the two like a frantic animal trying to gnaw through a trap. 220, 225, 230, 240.....244....holding.........246.....eggs white stiff and I am trying not to breathe on them lest they fall. Finally 250.......pull off the heat and pour slowly into the egg whites while whipping them on high. Does this make sense to anyone - take a chance to fling hot syrup on yourself with a mixer on high?!?!?! It is a point to ponder.

So with the grace of a cirque de soleil performer....I pure a slow steady stream of the syrup into the egg white and this is when panic set in......the recipe clearly did not say that the volume of the egg whites would increase ten fold. The stuff just kept growing and I thought for sure that it was going to overflow, but it stopped short of the tip top. Suppose to whip until the "shine" is gone. Hhhmmmm.....what the hell does that mean......I guess it was shiny, but it wasn't shiny like blinding shiny - I would saw that it was more glistening. The recipe said about 5 minutes. I was not convinced that the shine was gone so I went for 2 more minutes. Add in pecans and the fun begins.

Two spoons are required and I think I should have used teaspoons, but I used tablespoons. Use one spoon to scoop up the mixture and use the other spoon to push the mixture on to a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. They are suppose to look like a soft swirl of ice cream. At this point I do begin to laugh and as you can tell by the photo that I posted mine look more like either white octopus or white Rorschach blobs. I am convenience the "soft swirl ice cream" look must come from years of practice and should not be tried by a novice like me. I was a sticky, gunky mess when I was done with trays on every flat surface of my kitchen. Hhhmmm - not sure that this will work, but the recipe reads - let them cool completely. After 2 hours, the blobs were only a little less sticky so I decided to put the trays into the fridge. They are on every level of the fridge in the kitchen and in the fridge in the garage. After 2 more hours, I could finally peel one off.

I think it tastes right, but I made the mistake of laying it down on the counter for minute and the dang thing stuck right to the counter.....I mean immediately stuck to the counter. Blob peeled off and in the words of my daughter Gray, "It's like eating really sweet laffy taffy." Mason tried to eat one, but in his words, "I could only get a small piece to lift off the paper." Not really good reviews from the major food consumers at my house. To eat my finished product will probably require spoons which is clearly not listed in the recipe.

When a recipe requires you to know be a meteorologist - it should be a huge red flag. There is an old wives tale for sailors: "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning; Red sky at night, sailors delight."

Here is mine for Divinity; "Clear sky in the morning; divinity makers should be pouring......a red glass of wine while ordering (it online); Red sky at night, still drinking-now that's a delight!!!"

Day 10: Gilligan's Island, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and Chocolate Truffles

2009-12-18T11:54:00.007-06:00

I had a couple of things that I had to do yesterday so I didn't start this recipe until late afternoon and of course not reading the entire recipe ahead of time.....I didn't finish until after 8pm last night. In from running errands and it was little chilly in the house so instead of cooking with an apron - I cooked wearing my fur vest. Image: Lovey Howell from Gilligan's Island cooking.......OK, maybe not :D First, you have to chop 8 ounces of chocolate......I felt like Charlie from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory because each 1 ounce of the chocolate was wrapped in gold foil so as I chopped chocolate, I couldn't help, but sing "I've got a golden ticket...". Chocolate chopped and 1 cup of simmering heavy cream added and you get let it be in the bowl for 10 minutes. Stir until melted and mixture has to set at room temperature for an hour THEN you have to stir and whip the mixture until it thickens. THEN you spread it out on a cookie sheet and let it set-up for 2 hours......hhhhmmmm. (Well, during that time I started watching a movie with the family (Akeelah and the Bee) which I had never seen before. If you have never seen it - great flick.) So I was delayed when I started scooping and rolling the chocolate. The recipe indicated that you should scoop the chocolate with a melon scoop, but alas I don't own a melon scoop so I use a baby spoon. Worked like a champ.

It is a bit messy rolling the chocolate because they start to soften under the heat of your hands. Once rolled - I had chopped some slivered almonds, chocolate sprinkles, and coconut to roll the chocolate in - into the "dusting ingredients" and plop onto parchment paper. The recipe called for rolling them in cocoa powder, but I don't care that taste so I substituted with the above. Back into the fridge for them to re-firm. Done - spit spot.

They are very rich and those rolled in almonds are probably my favorite - the almonds cut a little bit of the chocolate. For those of you who love chocolate - you will love the ones rolled in chocolate sprinkles. Oh Heaven next is Day 11.....

Day 9: Eggs minus the Nog, a Bain-Marie, and a GPS

2009-12-16T18:17:00.007-06:00

I want to give you some insight to me and these recipes - I only scan the recipes to see what I might additionally need from the grocery. I don't read them thoroughly as I don't want to have any pre-conceived notions of how it may or may not turn out. I came as quite a surprise that I was going to make Egg Nog Pie and there was not a drop of egg nog in the whole dang recipe. REALLY?!?!? Because when I was at the grocery over the weekend knowing that I was going to make egg nog pie this week - I bought 3 cartons of egg nog - knowing that I would need at least one to make this recipe. Now I can open up an egg nog stand - I have so much in the fridge. I mean its not like I can pour it over my Frosted Flakes....well I guess I could, but I am not going to. I also didn't realize that I would be making a custard pie or baking it in a bain-marie (translated from French = Mary's bath or in English = water bath). Surprise!!! Well, well, well....won't this be fun.

First a pie crust....needs to be about a 12 inch round for a 9 inch pie pan. Pie crust rolled and fluted. I lightly poked the bottom with a fork and baked the crust for about 5 minutes because I was afraid that if I added custard ingredients to an unbaked pie crust that it might not get cooked so into the oven for 5 minutes at 325 degrees. On to the "guts" of the pie.

Sugar and 4 eggs creamed together. Dry ingredients stayed dry until I needed them - of course the only dry ingredient that I needed for the "guts" was salt. Not too hard to jack that up :D But oops I spoke too soon......now on my way to the grocery.......when I "scanned" the recipe I thought it called for condensed mik.....nope....it calls for evaporated milk. CRAP....and the grocery was busy today. So I get two cans of evaporated milk and out the door headed for home.
Only one problem....can't find my car. I became one of those people who I sit in my car and dog because they can't find their damn car. Where the hell is my car...I say it out loud and a lady loading her truck says to me, "Just click your key fob.....that's what I do." I said, "Honey, I drive a 1998 paid off POS (Piece of Sh*t) that doesn't have a fob." She went back to loading her trunk and I wander over two more rows til I found my car. Imagine that....it was exactly were I left it.

Back home, evaporated milk and water added. I put the pie tin into a large glass casserole dish because remember, I am going to bake this in a bain-marie. Pour the liquid "guts" into my pre-kinda baked pie crust - whew - just fit (it was a deep dish pie tin.) Sprinkle with nutmeg and cinnamon. Now pour about 1/2 inch of water into the bottom of the glass dish. Move it all very, very, very careful to the oven. Liquid guts are sloshing and the water in the bottom of the glass is sloshing, but I get into the oven. Bake for 55 minutes. Insert a knife, if it comes out clean - it is done. It's done. Cool, cut and by golly it tastes like egg nog in a pie crust. If you don't like the texture of custard - this recipe is not for you. Chris said the flavor is good, but he does not like custard so he likes the crust a lot.

To recap today: sweetened condensed milk is not the same as evaporated milk; an egg nog pie doesn't need to have egg nog in it to taste like it; and people who lose their car at the grocery - well....those types are kinda quirky. Tomorrow Day 10.

Day 8: Four Lessons and Ginger Tea Cakes

2009-12-15T18:41:00.005-06:00

Today starts out with basic kitchen lessons (which I seemed to have forgotten). When in the kitchen:

1. Remember that metal does NOT go in the microwave. It wasn't like this was the first time that I have used a microwave, but just spaced out this fundamental fact. I needed to soften the butter so I decided to unwrap it and leave it on the wrapper and the next thing I knew - the microwave was sparking and arching and it needed my immediate attention. I am surprised that I didn't blow up the microwave. Sshhheesshh

2. Again - dry ingredients don't get creamed in with butter and sugar (you know that I did this a few days ago). I threw caution to the wind and just left the dry ingredients and moved forward with the recipe.

3. Buttermilk tastes like horrible. I had never tried buttermilk before so I "manned-up" and took a swig. Oh my gosh....it tastes absolutely horrible. I remember Chris' grandma used to like to drink buttermilk over ice. EGADS....how in the world did she drink it?!?!?! I think there is still a film covering my tongue.

4. When taking pictures of your dessert, use both hands. Uh, when you don't, your iPhone ends up landing on top of the desserts. Next thing you know, I am licking the glaze off my phone - smoothing out the dessert tops again and taking a new photo....using both hands. Phone is still sticky, but I am tired of trying to lick off the lemon glaze.

I have to start off by giving kudos to the recipe. It was suppose make 24 tea cakes...mine made 23 tea cakes. YEAH!!!

As noted above, I added the dry ingredients with the sugar. Added the butter; Kitchen-aid locked....mix, scrap down the sides and the bottom (since I have the stuff sorta stuck to the bottom). Suppose to add eggs one at a time - nope that didn't happen either. Add both eggs and the extra egg yolk all at once. Another caution thrown to the wind. Next buttermilk.

[Side bar] I was not going to buy a carton of buttermilk when I only needed a couple of tablespoons. What did I do??? Off to the baking aisle. Did you know you can buy dried buttermilk??? Me either.

Buttermilk "made" and added to the mixture. Kitchen-aid locked and ready to mix for 2 minutes. Done. Mixture - nice and creamy. And I might add - tasty. I have never really been a ginger fan. Who would have thought that ginger would taste so good??? Into the oven for 12-15 minutes at 325 degrees. I went with 14 minutes. Insert toothpick to make sure they were done. Toothpick came out clean. Pull them out of the oven and let them cool completely. Glaze was easy. Powdered sugar, water, and, lemon juice. Gray helped with icing the tea cakes - thanks Gray!!!

Here is the good thing about this dessert: just the right amount of ginger, just the right amount of lemon, just the right size and just a couple of missteps in the kitchen today.

Day 7: Chilled Balls, Chilled Chocolate, and a History Lesson

2009-12-14T21:46:00.008-06:00

So far this has been the easiest recipe and if you are a peanut butter lover then this your day and recipe. Oh I almost forgot to tell you, for the next 6 days I am doing something different. The first six days I mixed everything by hand - the old-fashioned way. Beginning today, I used the kitchen-aid to mix the recipes. A heck of a lot easier and quicker. Thank goodness for modern conveniences and shout out to whoever spent the time and effort to create the modern mixer.

The recipe........a lot powdered sugar; a little bit of salt; a lot of creamy peanut butter; a little bit of butter....cream together and then roll into balls. Now here again, I have a "beef" with the amount the recipe makes - this recipe indicated that it would make 76 balls; when I finished mine made 34. Now I probably could have stretched the recipe, but after rolling about 20 - the balls started getting bigger and bigger because I just wanted to be done. All balls rolled; placed on cookie sheets lined with parchment paper and into the fridge for 30-60 minutes for the peanut butter to harden. I checked them at 30 minutes - not that they really looked any different from when I put them in their initially, but I really wanted to do the crossword puzzle so I let them chill for another 30 minutes. Crossword puzzle done - time to check on the chilled peanut butter. They still looked the same...only colder. Okay chilled balls and now onto the chocolate.

Another easy step. One bag of semi-sweet chocolate morsels and 2 tablespoons of oil - pop into the microwave and check about every 30 seconds. Stir, another 30 seconds, stir until completely melted. Cookie sheets pulled out of the fridge and ready to dip. This is where rolling the balls into "small" balls pays off. You have to poke a toothpick into the balls to dip and roll about in the chocolate - about 3/4 of the ball. Let the excess chocolate drip off and place them back on the parchment paper. So I should have made all the balls kinda, sorta small since when rolling and dipping them into the chocolate they become heavier and have a tendencies to start to pop off the toothpick. I had a couple that popped off the toothpick and became completely covered in chocolate. In an effort to have visually, uniform dessert - I ate those.....well, I couldn't feed them to the dog. Everyone knows that chocolate is lethal to dogs. I would like to say that they tasted bad, but I would be lying.

[Insert a little bit of useless information] The finished candy is suppose to resemble a buckeye which is the state tree of Ohio that produces a nut that is poisonous unless heated and leached. Native Americans gave it the name as it resembled the eye of a buck deer. Okay enough with history lesson. Thank you, Mr. Kohlenbrander and Mr. Crawford for my history lessons in high school.

All balls 3/4 covered in chocolate. Then you have to cover up the toothpick holes. Hhhmmm........really?!?!? Can't hold the candy to press closed the toothpick holes as the chocolate is still wet. So I decided to wet my index finger and smoothed out the hole.....that tip wasn't even in the recipe. That was all Donna!!! Into the fridge for the chocolate to harden about an hour. Arrange them on a plate and take a photo.

A bit of an uneventful day in the kitchen except that until about an hour ago - I realized that I had powder sugar down the front of my jeans. I guess from when I was cleaning up. Not to worry.....I called out for Chinese tonight. I have a couple "advanced" recipes coming up so maybe it was a good thing this recipe went off without any major hitches. Of course, this could just be the lull before the storm. Can't wait for Day 8 - how about you???

Day 6: Blunders, Baseball Stats, and Biscotti

2009-12-13T18:44:00.006-06:00

I had to take a nap after I finished making this recipe..not because it was that difficult, but because I screwed it so many times and ways. They tell a carpenter to measure twice - cut once; Donna should read the recipe twice and have bowls labelled - flour, sugar, chocolate, etc.

I get all of my ingredients out on the counter and this when I learned the ABC's of Biscotti - Always, Be, Careful.........sifted the dry ingredients into a bowl - sit it aside. 2 eggs cracked and lightly beaten in another bowl. Put the sugar in a separate bowl and thought the recipe said to must the cocoa in with the sugar......it did not....CRAP.....I only had enough cocoa to make one batch and I did want to go one day without having to go to the grocery so it stayed in with the sugar. Next needed to softened the butter - no worries - into the microwave. Pull it out and promptly dump into the sifted flour mixture which included salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Just to confirm, you never cream butter with flour.....you cream butter with sugar. CRAP, nothing to do, but to start again. This time I have Gray in the kitchen helping me keep an eye on myself.

Dump this concoction down the drain, wash the bowl.....start singing here, "And start all over again..." Measured flour into the bowl, baking powder, baking soda - going great - only need to add the salt. So I tell Gray, measure out a tablespoon of salt.......but she is smart....she reads the recipe and says, "Mom, it's a teaspoon of sugar." Good lord, good thing I messed up the first batch because I had added a full tablespoon of salt in it and I am sure it would have been inedible. And had it been edible, I am confident that anyone who dared sample it would have blown up like a Macy Thanksgiving Day Float from all the salt. Whew, dodge another bullet.

Butter into the sugar/cocoa combo - cream well, add dry mixture along with almonds incorporating a little at a time. Parchment paper on the cookie sheet. Divide mixture in half; shaping into two logs. Why do I have still have semi-sweet morsels on the counter?!?!?!? Because the were suppose to be added when I added the almonds.......[insert a string of cuss words here followed up with a slightly strained "Are you kidding me?!?!?!?" I was talking and yelling at myself - all at the same time. Gray gets smart and leaves the kitchen at this point....she wants no part of this jacked-up dessert that I INSIST on finishing. So I improvise.....pour the semi-sweet morsels on top of the chocolate logs; lightly flour my hands and gently massage them into the chocolate logs. Into the oven at 325 degrees for 25 minutes. I tell Gray that this will be a miracle if this even makes it through the first round of baking.

25 minutes tick away, pull it out of the oven.....holy crap.....I think it might work. Have to have it cool for 20 minutes. Okay....20 minutes comes and goes. Cut into slices and turn on their sides and bake for another 15 minutes, but at seven minutes, you pull them out and flip them to the other side so that they "dry" out evenly. Note to readers here....baking 101, don't pull out the baking sheet with a damp dish towel......it is as it you pulled it out with your bare hands. I faltered a minute but got it to the stove top without a crumb falling to the floor. Cool at room temperature.

For those you have been following along....yesterday this is where it went south very quickly and a video was made on just how far south it went. But oh no, [Insert finger wagging here] not today my friends......believe it or not it actually turned out. Can you believe it?!?!?! It actually turned out!!!!! Chris has already had 3 pieces of it, Gray thought it was too chocolaty for her; I have had two pieces and Mason who took one for the team yesterday and tried to gnaw through yesterday's dessert for a picture....put his blessing on it. YEAH......if I was a baseball player, I would be batting over 800.....better than the Texas Rangers......sorry, but it was open so I took it.

Just remember, the ABC's of baking.....Always Be Creative!!!!

Day 5: Butter, Breadcrumbs, and Building Material

2009-12-12T17:43:00.006-06:00

I was excited to make this cake. I had visions of my great-grandmother eating this cake while she was growing up Warsaw and even in Riley, Kansas where she finally settled, married and died. I had the great fortune of growing up with her as she didn't pass until I was a junior in high school. I don't ever remember her making this cake, but I knew that if I made it - it would complete a circle and it would become a new family tradition....Honey Cake for Christmas.

Time to gather the ingredients...light brown sugar; honey; 4 eggs; hazelnuts.....first hitch. I usually don't have hazelnuts hanging around and I did not want to make a special trip to Central Market so I altered the recipe and decided to use chopped nut topping. I am assuming that this should not make a huge difference. Oh yes and white breadcrumbs.......yup....I said white breadcrumbs. Should this be a red flag?!?!?! I paused and thought if it was good enough for Lydia H. Weiss Buseman - it was good enough for me. In retrospect, I might should have contemplated it a bit longer.

Ingredients gathered - now need a baking dish. And wouldn't you know I could not find my 7 1/2 cup fluted brioche tin.......(to confirm - I don't have one), but I did know that I had a bundt pan. Kinda of the same so thought it could work. Now picture this.....I know that I have a bundt pan, but I can not for love of Pete find it. I am crawling all over my kitchen floor - unloading cabinets in search of this dang bundt pan. Ok not in the bottom cabinets; up on the step stool looking in the higher cabinets - nowhere. Looked in the pantry and even looked in the laundry room - no dang bundt pan. Well crap - I was afraid to use a regular cake pan SO off to Wal-Mart I go......I made sure that this time I had no baking remnants smeared across my face before going in. Imagine that - no fluted brioche tins in the entire store. So I bought a bundt pan and a spring form pan. As I ponder which to use: bundt or spingform pan - I settled on the springform pan. Which I prepped with some butter and a 1/4 cup of bread crumbs. Double boiler in place - the honey needs go liquifies and whisk til light and frothy......hhhmmmm.....frothy honey. OK, not really even sure I got it to the frothy stage.....starting to wonder "what the hell am I doing trying to make this".......might as well see it through - I have gotten this far. Mix remaining breadcrumbs with nuts into frothy honey mixture. I need to pause here just a minute and let you know that this recipe didn't call for a few morsels of breadcrumbs - it called for a total of 2 cups of bread crumbs. I am not even sure you use that many breadcrumbs to make Thanksgiving stuffing!!! Last stage of prep - beat 4 egg whites until stiff an gently fold in. Again, enveloped in my nostalgic dream of grandma - I decided to beat the egg whites by hand. This was a bad decision....first - the bowl was too small; two - you have to have biceps and endurance of a tri-athlete to beat egg whites by hand to the stiff stage; and three - you have to have a relief partner. If was like the WWE....lets get ready to rumble......I had to tag team with Chris on these dang egg whites - I tapped out and he took over and then I came back and finished. I folded in the the egg whites and spooned the mixture into the springform pan. Into the oven 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes.

Read an article on Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis while the cake baked. The recipe indicated that the cake will rise during cooking and will sink slightly as it cooled. I looked in on my cake.....was it rising.....couldn't tell....opened the door and confirmed....cake not rising. I folded in the stiff egg whites.....did I fold them to much??? Crap, my gut is telling me that I folded too much or I wasn't gently enough with spooning in the mixture OR maybe I should have gone with the bundt pan. Pulled the cake at 42 minutes. It did not have to sink because it never rose.

I knew that I had to be the first one to taste it so I cut into it - no, I lie - I sawed into and took a bite. It is extremely dense (well of course since the dang thing never rose and has 2 cups of breadcrumbs ), it does take like honey, but I am thinking when it cools completely it will be like a brick. Hold-on.....let me go check........Holy Crap - it has turned into what my son calls "Polish Cinder Block Cake". I just took several pictures to show how "stable" cake has become an added them to facebook.

I am guessing that when Lydia H. Weiss Buseman made this -it was a great cake, but to confirm when Donna Jean Duncan Paul made it......the dog even had a hard time eating it and I think I might be able to sell this as a fragrant door stop or better yet - organic building material in third world countries.

Day 4: Here a Peanut; There a Peanut; Everywhere Peanuts - oh and a small fire

2009-12-11T21:06:00.008-06:00

Yes, I know that I am late in getting my blog posted today, but to confirm, it is not due to recipe difficulties...I have just had a very busy day. I even wrote some this blog while riding in the car on the way to my nephew's indoor soccer game. So......Day 4 -Peanut Brittle. A couple of notes worthy of mentioning about peanut brittle:

1. I now know why peanut brittle costs so much to purchase retail; and

2. This is a candy dessert that you have to be committed to before you begin.

Folks, this is not like slice and bake cookies and read part of the paper while they are baking.....oh no.....this involves a candy thermometer which takes this to a whole new level. One, frankly, that I was not sure that I could handle. There were horror stories of peanut brittle down from generation to generation in my family. The year an aunt got burned by the syrup mixture; the year the peanuts had gone rancid; and the year that the peanut brittle turned green....yes, I said green AND it happened twice. My sister and I witnessed the latter....my sister swears I was responsible for the first batch of green peanut brittle - this I do not recall or maybe I chose to repress it; however, we both agree that mom was responsible for the second green batch. And to this day, none of us can figure out how or why it would have turned green. Oh, I guess if I really wanted to know, I could pose the question to a chemist or a scientist, but some questions are best left unanswered. Besides, the story would lose a little bit of its luster if we had an answer.

My experience with the brittle will probably not make the cut of horror stories of years before, but here it is: First, you have to have a candy thermometer (mine was my grandma's) and you have to make sure that you attach it to the side of the pot, but you have to make sure kit does not touch the bottom of the pot or you do not get an accurate reading. And the last thing that you want is reaching the hard candy stage when you are really at the soft candy stage. Thermometer positioned, sugar, light Karo syrup and water added to the pot - medium heat and then you wait....and wait....and wait...and wait. This is when I pulled the step stool up to the front of the stove and waited some more. Before you can do anything, you have to wait until the temperature of the sugar syrup mixture reaches 234 degrees....not 230 or 235, but 234. Really?!?!?! I panic a bit here, because my thermometer has increments in five, not 4...so I waited until it got to 235. In goes 2 cups of raw Spanish peanuts and salt. And then you stir, and stir, and stir, and stir, and stir. Did I mention that you have to stir?!?!?! You have to keep stirring until the temp reaches 305 and then quickly you have to add 1 tablespoon of butter and 1 teaspoon of baking soda...stir, stir, stir and pour out on two greased cookie sheets. Had a little stubble here with the butter and I can confirm, that when you drop the butter between the pot and the butter...it does flame up.....I hesitate to call my incident a fire, but it does flame and of course melts everywhere. I did jump back a little bit, but recovered and got more butter; add the baking soda and stirred and poured it out onto cookie sheets. Let it hardened and break it into pieces.

Recap: can't buy a small amount of raw Spanish peanuts so I have to figure out what the heck I am going to do with about 4 more cups of them; lots of waiting (which coincides with the high retail price) for the syrup to come up to temp; could have used some more salt; lots of stirring (which coincides with the high retail price) for the syrup and peanuts to come to temp; move quickly with the salt and baking powder; and a nice tablespoon of butter slightly seared to the grate, the burner cap, and the drip pan [sigh]. And if anyone has any ideas what you can do with raw Spanish peanuts other than making more peanut brittle - let me know.

Day 3: Peppermint Extract; Peppermint Sticks and Wal-Mart

2009-12-10T17:00:00.006-06:00

Today is Day 3 and I have never used so much peppermint at one time in my entire life. Wait, I probably need to clarify - excluding peppermint schnapps that was taken with regularity when in college while I worked at Bushwackers. The recipe today - very easy - the longest wait was letting the dough chill which the recipe indicated would be 30-60 minutes. It was closer to 60, but no worries. I enjoyed a nice cup of hazelnut coffee.

I do have a beef about this recipe...well...in general most recipes. Do you ever notice the recipe never seems to make the amount indicated. For instance, today's recipe indicated it should yield 4 dozen. Now to confirm, I did not roll large or even medium sized balls (no jokes) and my recipe only made 3 dozen. I think for this to make 4 dozen cookies, I would have had to have rolled them about the size of mouse turds...I am just thinking. Does this happen to anyone else????

So the dough was chilled, balls were rolled and into the oven for 15 minutes on 350 until slightly brown on the edges. On to the glaze......powder sugar - check; 2 tablespoons of milk - check; 2 tablespoons of butter - check; 2 drops of red food coloring - check; crushed peppermints - WHAT...no....crap.....and the crushed peppermints have to be added while the glaze is wet......did I mention crap?!?!?! Off to Wal-Mart to purchase candy canes.

1 box of candy canes..88 cents. What a bargain. I head to the check-out and the chick with her little blue bow in her hair asks me, "Have you been cooking?" Had Wal-Mart started hiring clairvoyants???? I nodded and thought - Hhhmmm - is this the Wal-Mart question of the day to its customers? Are there questions of the day???? Didn't really think anymore of if. Paid and back to my car.....I had glaze to make. Car on; seat belt on; visor down to block out the sun and it became apparent to me why the baking question was posed to me. I had powdered sugar smeared across my forehead as if I was on my way to a some tribal ritual that involved dancing around fire and making weird noises. Oh lord......they are probably still talking about me, but what is a girl to do when she is on a mission for peppermint sticks?!?!?!?!

Glaze made; candy canes pounded....let me interject here.....when pounding candy canes - cover the candy canes with a towel before beating the crap put of them with a meat mallet. Because those candy canes shards will fly all over your dang kitchen - a mess to clean up, but your dog will love you. Glaze was drizzled with more finesse today than yesterday and crushed candy canes added to the top.

The cookies turned out great; however, there is only one thing that still has me worried.....since Tim (our dog) ate some of the peppermint shards that went flying through the kitchen.....will his dog farts smell like peppermints????? Just a point ponder.

Day 2: Puffed Pastry, Pudding, and Powdered Sugar

2009-12-09T15:29:00.003-06:00

Today is Day 2 in my quest of 12 desserts in 12 days. And based on the title of this blog - yes, Virgina today was Napoleons. Again another recipe never made before....it looks difficult, but I can tell you that it was really quite simple. I think the thing that took the longest was letting the puff pastry thaw...the package said about 20 minutes; however, mine took about 32 minutes...give or that a minute or so. So while I was waiting - I painted the house. Really?!? No, just seeing if you were paying attention. I actually gathered the rest of my ingredients and had a cup of coffee. With the puff pastry thawed and cut - into the oven it went at 400 degrees for 12-15 minutes. I actually baked mine for 14 - I was going to go for 15, but they were getting a little too brown so 14 it was. While the pastry cooled - I whipped up the "middle". Chocolate pudding, 1 cup of milk, 1 cup of sour cream....it is here that I paused and thought - really?!?!? I prayed that no one used it last night for their baked potato - you know how it goes, baked potato with sour cream is great, but their always seems to be a few shreds of cheese or bacon bits that get lodged into the sour cream when we are done. Nope - not an shred of cheese or bacon bit to be found. So in went the sour cream.....whisk for 2 minutes and chill. Here is where I pulled out a trick that Mrs. Harbour taught me in Foods Class at the old MHS.....when chilling pudding or pudding like products - cover with wax paper and gently press on to the pudding. SHAAZAAM - no film!!! Thank-you, Mrs. Harbour.

Side bar - does anyone from the "Little Apple" know if Mrs. Harbour still lives in Manhattan?

So back to the recipe.....middle made, puff pastry opened and tops sit aside. Generous dollop of "middle" slopped on and tops gently pushed on. On to the glaze and UH-HUH....a problem.....1 cup of powder sugar and 1 tablespoon of milk NOT 1 cup of powder sugar and 1 cup of milk. The latter combo does not make a glaze it just makes really sweet, slightly thick milk. Down the drain and start again. Yup following the recipe works much better. Spread on the glaze.....a little trick....use the back side of the spoon to spread it on as it coats just the right amount that doesn't end up running off the side of the pastry.

Last step - melt some chocolate morsels to drizzle......no issues....drizzled and flung the melted chocolate like I was a master chocolatier. Of course, I had to clean up the flung chocolate from the counter top, the top of the stove and off of my shirt. I am guessing a true master chocolatier would have better control of his fling and possibly worn an apron. Note to self for next time.

Day three....oh what will it be....stay tuned!!!!

Twelve Days of What?!?!?!

2009-12-08T12:26:00.003-06:00

Most everyone knows that on the first day of Christmas, your true love will give to you a partridge in a pear tree. Hhhhmmmm - how ordinary. I have decided to embark on something a bit different this year....I am baking desserts for 12 days. I was flipping through the channels and landed on Fine Living Network Sunday night and started watching a program titled "Twelve Days of Christmas Desserts" and in a brief moment of either brilliance or baffling stupidity - I decided that I could do that. So yesterday, armed with a lengthy list, I set off for the grocery and with a cart full of various powders, extracts, and liquids that would amaze Martha Stewart (if she did her own shopping) - I headed for the checkout. When you buy a pound of sugar here and a pound of flour there - you never really realize what it costs to bake. I am already about $100 into this adventure and the oven hasn't even been turned on. What was I thinking?!?!? Maybe I have gone mad!!!

So here we are Tuesday morning and the first recipe is Apple Cranberry Upside Down Cake. Really?!?!?! I have never even made a Pineapple Upside Down Cake and after coring and peeling the apples - I believe opening a can of pineapple would have been much easier. So first hitch was that I couldn't find the peeler so I pared the apples the old-fashion way - with a steak knife....yup I said a steak knife....why make it easy..it was the first knife that I grabbed. Apples peeled and drizzled with lemon juice (to prevent browning); off to soaking the cranberries. This was easy as the recipe called for dried cranberries to soak in water. In hindsight, I might have modified the recipe and possibly soaked them in orange juice. On to the cake batter.....eggs, oil, etc......stir, mix - not too much - should still have some lumps. Yup - still have some lumps even after mixing for 2 minutes.....no hand mixer for me.....all by hand today. Now I need the "syrup" - brown sugar and butter melted together. Here is where I now know that I read the recipe wrong......1 cup of brown sugar - not a 1/2 cup AND 4 tablespoons of butter not 2 tablespoons. I did think that it looked sparse as I poured it over the layer of apples and cranberries, but what did I know since I have never made the recipe before......and of course you don't realize this until after you invert and turn over the cake. Hhhmmm....maybe I will spoon some caramel sauce over the slices when I serve it.

Bake for 32 minutes at 325; cool for 5 minutes and invert. Done, Done and Done. Only 1 piece of pineapple stuck to the dish...again...not too bad for the first try. I wonder if Martha ever has her cake stick?!?!?! I am thinking not, but then again I wonder if she really does her own cooking anymore.

I think this will be a great fun - 12 days of desserts; however, stay tuned as it may become 12 days of stressed (desserts spelled backwards).

Jury Duty and the Salts

2009-08-10T15:37:00.003-05:00

So I had jury duty today. Doing your civic duty requires that you be in downtown Dallas at 8:30 am - this alone would discourage the smart person from venturing through the concrete jungle to try to find a paring space close to the building. But Dallas County thinks ahead - they provide with you an all-day DART pass so I rode the train downtown. When I worked downtown I thoroughly enjoyed riding the train and today was no different. This was step one of mixing it up with the "salts" - a term that I picked up at home this summer. By definition, the "salts" are typically the good people who work for a living - you know a deviation from the term "salt of the earth." However, to confirm, there are many different levels of salts - you have the salts that don't work; you have the salts that barely work; you have the salts who work all the time; you have those who are embarrassed to be a salt (my personal opinion is these are the worst of the salts); and finally you have those who pretend to be a salt because they are embarrassed of what they have and try to fit in. Salts on the train are the salts who work all the time - they work all week at an 8-5 job and then wok all weekend at home. Most of the people that I know fall in this category.

When I arrive at the Court Building - they funnel you into the Central Jury Room. And the room overflowed with salts. My observation is that most of the salts here - don't want to be salts. So to compensate they come all decked out and pray feverishly that no one mistakes them for a salt. Me!?!?!? I purposely went without makeup hoping it would enhance my chances of not being selected. I had two female salts next to me who just met each other this morning and the next thing you know they are talking as if they had known each other for years.....no I take that back - one talked as if she had known the other for years. You know the type......I did this, my kids did that, my husband did this and now does that...both teachers who married engineers; one from Garland, one from Richardson, both postponed jury service earlier this summer due to scheduled vacation....blah, blah, blah,blah,blah......just my luck - salts who don't want to be salts.

Oh wait did I mention that my purse got pulled for a search. And for all of you who really know me - I carry a ton of stuff in my bag. (To catch those of you up to date - until last year I used to carry a backpack 24/7. It fit my style and I had been doing it since high school.) Now you understand my need for a large satchel. So my bag gets pulled and she passes me off to another checker chick who made me pull out my pop tarts, my tic tacs, my phone and looked through my makeup bag (of course, she was probably wondering why I didn't elect to out any on this morning) and then the second bag chick checker says, "Wow, there is a lot of stuff in there." I laughed out loud and proudly agreed with the barely working salt.

I was juror 709 and I got to spend my entire time in the central jury room hanging with the rest of the salts who didn't selected. The thing IS....I am a salt and I say it loud and proud. If you haven't hung out with the salts lately.....go to Wal-Mart, go out to dinner, ride mass transit, go to the local hog-it-all, or go to the gym. We are everywhere - it is good to hang with the salts.

Bacon, Bailout Money, and Bingo Dangle

2009-08-09T18:34:00.004-05:00

By now, you know that most of my blogs start off with an aha moment.....this one is no different. It happened on Friday when I was talking to Erin about her hesitation to just go ahead and buy a new car. I had told her that if I still lived in Kansas, I would be driving a car with manual (standard) transmission....yes...a stick shift. I have always liked driving a manual - I always felt like I had more control of the car. But I digress - this is not my aha moment. My aha moment has to do with manual window handles....you know......what we used to have to do before we had electric windows in our cars. OK, now that we are on the same page. This is the demise of all women my age who don't like to work out......this used to be our workout. Crank the window down, crank the window up....several times a day. We worked out our upper arms. And here is it is.....I NEVER had "bingo-dangle" on my arms until I purchased a car with electric windows. Are you unfamiliar with the term "bingo-dangle"? It is the loose skin under my upper arms that keeps swinging after you raise your hand to call out bingo. In the UK, it is called having bat wings. I realized in that moment, in my office, that I too was struggling right along side of the big automakers....why.....because they put me in this situation. It is not my fault........it is GM's fault........I need a bailout. Of course the "bingo-dangle" has nothing to do with the fact that every weekend that I love having an egg, bacon, and biscuit breakfast. Oh no it is GM's fault..that's my story and I am sticking to it. So right after this blog, I am getting ready to send my letter off to see if I can get some bailout money for my "bingo-dangle." It is a crisis and I need to act quick...I think the letter should ready something like this.....Dear Mr. President...I am writing to you because there is a crisis in America.....GM is at fault for all of the "bingo -dangle" that it is it spilling out of many a the mid-western woman's shirt, and it moving quickly to the East and West coast. We need your help now - before this reaches epidemic portions.......!!! I will keep you posted if I can get some bailout money......until then I will continue to wave with my arms close to my sides.

Tweens, Bra Size and a Spork

2009-07-14T15:48:00.004-05:00

I am about ready to pull my hair out.......I have three girl tweens in my house right now. And in normal tween style....they are playing the game of "one-upping" right now........I am better at this, I made this, I work out longer than you, I eat better than you, my space on MySpace is better than yours, I have better music on my phone than you do.....OMG!!!! When I was growing up the only thing that I remembering "one-upping" was in maybe my bra size.....maybe?!?!?! I don't know you would have to ask my friend Tina to be sure. I am sorry that I am having to listen to this as it makes me want to spork my brain out and it makes me sad that all of these things are things that they care about. OMG like IDK......I am trying to watching the Sotomayer hearings and they are debating who has had a membership longer at Life Time Fitness...really?!?!?!? Are these things that really matter to them.......my dog licks people more than your dog......I don't remember ever caring about stuff like this........or even pausing to ponder such drivel.

I may have morphed into my parents.......I can hear my dad, "What are those rum-dumbs up to now?" I remember that our house was the house where all the kids hung out, but it never even dawned on me that at some point my parents probably wished that they could just hang out quietly by themselves. And yet my parents very rarely kicked us all out. Why?!?!?!

If my parents could handle it, why am I quietly calculating how to kick them outside, change the locks on the doors, and dig a moat around the house and fill it with alligators before they can make it around the block??? If I had super powers - I could do it....no really, I think I could. What???? Have you never had those thoughts.......instead I take another sip of warm tea, inhale, exhale, and clear my brain of super power thoughts. I repeat....."I am stronger than this, I am stronger than this......"

So with the power that my parents possessed, I keep repeating how grateful I am that I know where they are and I don't have to worry about their whereabouts and actions. Now if I can just remember where I put my silver-plated spork.......maybe it is in the garage with the power tools and my emergency stock of alligators.

And I cried

2009-07-07T20:45:00.002-05:00

I didn't anticipate it. It didn't even occur to me that it might happen based on my prior thougths about his life and death. But suddenly without notice the song "We are the World" started playing and with his family standing in silent unison on the stage - a single tear rolled down my cheek. It was in that moment, that I mourned a person who died too soon, a father who died before he was able to share the milestones of his children's lives, a son who didn't outlive his parents, a brother who would no longer partake in holiday dinners, a uncle who would never wish the nieces and nephews a happy birthday. And when his daughter spoke about her daddy and how he was the best father ever - I cried for a daughter who lost her daddy.

A lot has been said about his life - triumphs and tragedies. And admittedly, I have been one of them. But today I cried because a person, a human being died.

Egg Salad Sandwich, Superstars, and a Circus

2009-07-07T09:09:00.006-05:00

Today is the day of the Michael Jackson memorial service. I will watch with morbid curiosity - I believe it will become a three-ring circus that will be a dis-service to the music genius that he became and it will be forgotten that a person died.

When Princess Diana died, I cried for days. I got up early to watch marry Prince Charles and watched with wide-eyed awe. When she died - I got up early with orange juice in hand to watch the funeral and I watched through tear-filled eyes. It only seemed fitting since I watched the beginning (her marriage) of her star rising that I should also watch as she, the sometimes troubled star, be laid to rest. I remember it as if it was yesterday and I also remembered being physically exhausted after weeks of watching and crying.

And here is another troubled star being laid to rest. I am exhausted but it comes from the 24-7 coverage of his life, his troubles, his yet to be determined legacy and yet I have cried zero tears. There is no question that he was a superstar and millions mourn his passing. I have heard many great quotes over the last week including this one; "The quickest way to become a legend is to die young." This no doubt is true. The estates Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley has generated more money with the stars being dead than when they were alive. History will repeat itself and the same will occur with Michael Jackson. Thank goodness for his children. The most profound statement I heard is really reflective of the entire life and times of Michael Jackson. The cultural critic, Toure summed it up today on morning television......he pondered aloud....."If the white Michael Jackson saw videos of the black Michael Jackson - would he even know that he was watching himself." What a sad commentary that is painfully true.

It will a tough decision today at lunchtime - Judge Christina or watching the "highly produced, massive orchestrated memorial service." Of course, I can't think of a better way to enjoy an egg salad sandwich and chips served with a side of circus.

Which Michael Jackson song was Michael Jackson?!?!?!?

2009-06-30T21:23:00.005-05:00

I admit that I was shocked when I heard that Michael Jackson had died. I thought it was a joke actually since Farrah had just died, but as soon as his death was confirmed - the dead jokes started - the confirmation that death of a celebrity has occurred....sad, but a true sign of the times and yet - I laughed at a couple.

So let's review the years of Michael Jackson - oh wait - we have been exposed to the non-stop Michael Jackson infomercial since late on Thursday - and you would have thought that Pope John Paul II had died. I'm just saying....ok back to Jackson.....I am old-school Jackson up through the 1984 - where is was just beginning to change to a white man. Beyond that - he was just a freak of nature and yet when you hear his friends talk about him - they say he was genuine friend. My husband thinks that he just needed someone normal in his life to tell him to "Snap the h*ll out of it!!!" Even his music turned freaky - in my opinion - when the mask appeared - his music disappeared.

I still have my Thriller cassette (which still works in my car - hey it is paid for), but what I really wish is that I still had my 45 of ABC.....now that would be worth some cash.

The funny thing is that my kids never knew Michael was anything, but a crazy white man who slept with little boys and I never think of him other than a black man - I could see beyond the dimpled chin, cartoon nose, and bleached skin.

My son wrote on his face book that he was confused how a proud African American man could die as a frail Asian woman?!?!?! You know what - a good point to ponder.

So what song would he be??? It's obvious - "Black and White." This is probably to safest bet since it spans the old school fans like me (black Jackson) and the younger fans who favor his recent music (white Jackson).

Okay I am done with the whole Michael Jackson thing because now Papa Joe Jackson has appeared all dapper with the media - now it has turned into a circus....I'm just saying.

Bangers and Mash with a serving of British News

2009-06-24T10:43:00.003-05:00

I have to admit that I love reading the British news - I read it everyday...sometimes two or more times a day. The Brits just seem to have a better handle on the news - in my opinion. Their media coverage doesn't seem to have the layers of political and social correctness that has paralyzed the US media. They cover the good, bad and the ugly and it if is ugly - they say so. The only thing that seems to be off limits is Prince William....they go after his dad and his brother on a regular basis, but William still seems to have a free press pass. That's ok with me as I think he is one of the good guys; although, poor chap is losing his hair at such an early age. Of course with all the palaces, palace jewels, titled properties and worldly freebies.....one can over look the the bald spot. Maybe the next thing will be royal hair plugs......its just a thought. Okay I digress. The Brits call out their politicians and hound them when there is controversy and stay on the story until they resign under public pressure. When did the US decide that was no longer necessary???? Why are we, the US media and readers, so concerned about swaddling people and their feelings??? I think that we need to be tougher journalists and we, the readers, should demand tougher journalists. Quite frankly I am tired of reading the rose colored news.......if it is ugly - call it ugly. Of course, if for any reason Prince William comes to the US - please refer to the British Handbook of Etiquette.....as this is a level of journalism that we are not schooled nor do we have any experience!!!!! By the way - I have a tiara if that helps me secure a royal press pass. Next, adopting British phrases and traditions which will be quicker than you can say "Bob's your uncle" while passing me a serving of bangers and mash followed by a serving of spotted dick. What?!?!?!

Writer's Block, Brats, and Hormones

2009-06-18T20:19:00.003-05:00

I think that I have encountered writer's block......I am beginning to think that it is the lack of estrogen. How do other writers move pass the block??? Well, the good writers drank to excess or were heavily medicated with illegal drugs........do I have those options? Uh, no.....I could drink but don't want to; could take drugs since I have prescriptions, but I believe that might lead to a destructive pattern. So what do I do???? I could write about politics - so many issues - so little time. And don't get me started on the Obama infomerical that will be occurring on ABC. I could write about the crazy rabbit woman that got arrested again in Oregon - what the heck. Is she the next Cruella De'ville and raising them for fur coats or she is a whack job?!?!?! I am going with the latter. I could write about the fact that I wanted Chinese food tonight and when I called to order - no one picked up.....what the heck. I have never known a Chinese restaurant to go out of business - they usually only move - they never close. I could write about how I am addicted to Farm Town on Facebook - I love planting crops and selling them. I could write about how I love to write and I wish I could do it full time - just need someone to pay me for it.....hello....anyone listening on this one??? I could write about how I have found the perfect Texas house that currently happens to be out of our price range....oh I do love this house. I could write about how I want to live to Colorado full time, in the mountains and raise buffalo.....yes that is one of the things that I want to do. I could write about how instead of Chinese food tonight - we are having brats.

So does this mean that I have gotten over my block since I am writing?!?!?!? Hhhhmmmm - that is a point to ponder. I think that I am back,but just in case - I am gong to Walmart to see if I can find some estrogen and progesterone cream that I can rub into my skin. - just in case it is the hormones. Got a run - I need to eat my brat.

"Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!!!"

2009-06-04T16:38:00.007-05:00

OK - I know that I have been off-line for about a week and for that I apologize. I have heard from many of you and I wanted to say thanks for missing the blog....that means a lot to me!!!! OK so quick sidebar about the surgery.....last Thursday. As I was getting prepped for surgery, Dr. Fine told me that we were waiting for a different anesthesiologist as mine had been out riding his bike earlier in the day and he fell off his bike and broke his hip. And he was 4 waiting rooms down from me getting prepped for surgery at the same time that I was...this is why I don't exercise - it can kill ya. But Dr. Walker was a great replacement as I found out that he was born in Topeka and went to college in Kansas. With great anticipation, I was hoping for KSU, but no - he went to KU. I told him that I wouldn't hold that against him since red and blue bleeds purple... not sure that he thought it as funny as I did. I also understand people strange things as they are going under and I was told that I proudly professed that I could speak Polish......uh.....I know about 4 words......uuummmm....who knows where that came from?!?!?!? Surgery was the best possible outcome that I/we could have hoped for although it lasted about 2 hours longer than anticipated, but I had the best surgeons tending to me. Thanks to all the doctors and nurses who tended to me - I appreciate all that you have done for me since the first surgery in January to this one last week. I owe my life to all of you and that is not said half-hearted - that is a statement.

Okay so on with my blog.........when Chris and I were in our 30's we decided if we are going to have children - now was the time. And one there, I ate my way through the 9 months as I was eating for two. Step away from my Spaghettio's. We knew that when we went to the hospital we were coming home with this brand new blob called a baby. It eats, poops, cries and sleeps and the cycle continues with regularity about every 4 hours and I got little sleep. But at some point I started the baby talk. My vocabulary consisted of baa-baa, gaa-gaa, goo-goo with a little doo-doo thrown in. My friends daring one another to appear on an episode of Fear Factor, invited me out for dinner or drinks. My friends did that - once. And not again until after the first birthday and here is why.....I show up with burp stains and a diaper rag hanging out of my purse, surely no one noticed - but they did. I tried to explain, but when I started talking - a slightly distorted Betty Bop voice punctuated with goos and gaas came out. My friends sat there staring at me helpless. They didn't know what to do for me. Should they order me a shot of whiskey with a breast milk chaser??? Or did they dare allow themselves to reply with baas and boos??? They opted for the first choice -hold the breast milk. I thanked them. They call this Maternity Leave. I came to realize that even when I was around adults I talked like a "mommy" - for several years. And might I add during the those years, you also lose your identity. I become Mason's Mom or Grayson' Mom - not - Donna. I don't think that most parents knew my name until each of my kids entered the 4th grade. I did the same - it was once less thing that I had to remember or commit to. [Shoulder Shrug] You know how it goes.

And in a flash I have entered my 40's.....things begin to shift. My kids talk like adults, they get adult references and winks and I begin to say a prayer of thanks daily to the person or persons who invented under wire bras and Spanx becuase those areas began to shift as well. Also something unique to the 40's.... Cougar Leave.

Yes, I am on Cougar Leave. I went to hospital and I came home with nothing except a lot of staples and a lot of stories of hormone replacement therapy - pros and cons. Here is where Maternity Leave and Cougar Leave differ. I have not found myself without sleep - in fact - I am taking naps whenever I need. Instead of talking baby talk, I am having fairly deep conversations with Tim (our dog). He is quite agreeable and only disputes my point of view when it conflicts with going out or dinner time. Tim is very versed on national and international politics as well as up-to-date with state and local issues - which means most of the time we see eye-to-eye!!!! And my clothes, spotless and fashionable.

As my son and husband colorfully described my surgery - I thought my mom was going to pee her pants and I about fell off the gurney - laughing - they described it like this: "In your 20's and 30's, your vagina goes Vvvrrroooommm, Vvvrrrooommm. In your 40's, your vagina goes Hhhooowww" (the sound is a cross between the sound a balloon makes went it is deflating and a hybrid car running.) Although my race is currently under caution.... watch out Danica Patrick with your gasoline, needs to be refilled, vvvrrrooommm-engine because the next time I hear them say "Gentlemen, start your engines", you can bet I will be revving my hhhooowww, goes further and longer on a tank, hybrid-engine at the starting line!!!!

Jon & Kate, OctoMel, OctoMom, and Cristal Taylor

2009-05-27T14:47:00.003-05:00

They all have one thing in common.....in my opinion - their 15 minutes of fame is over so , "GET OFF MY TV." All of them, of free will, have decided to parade their lives in front of us - lets recap: a slightly bonkers actor who is a big fan of Mr. Jack Daniel and Mr. Johnny Walker who has decided to get his girlfriend pregnant; two slightly bonkers women who had the need to see who could cram the most number of children in a space built for one; and a slightly bonkers woman who has a history of being a grifter who dated and got engaged to an NBA player, but she happens to forget that she has outstanding warrants in two state, and gets arrested at his home during the playoffs and finds out she is knocked up upon entering prison. Oh my lord - I am so over their "woe is me mentality." REALLY?!?!? The woe is mine.....and yet we are so drawn to the drama like a month to a flame.....why?!?!?! I think it's because we somehow need to validate, through their woes, that our life just may not be that bad. It is a sad commentary that we have become a society of voyeurs - it is true and I am am one of them. But what makes me more sad, in this era of electronic media, is these stories will never die and how horrible for the children. This is who really suffers - this crazy crap will be around until all these kids are well into their 80's and will reappear with little or no notice when a media outlet needs to boost sales or ratings. And the absolute most horrible thing about all of this - these kids didn't have a choice - these kids became meal tickets for their parents. For Jon and Kate - all the freebies. Hair transplants, tummy tucks, vacations, million dollar house all at the courtesy of TV viewers - getting something for nothing. For OctoMel - I am sure that the movie scripts will becoming his way with a bit more frequency as the due date of his 8th baby nears. For the OctoMom - already on state assistance when she gets pregnant with 8 - a cycle that will perpetuate itself with her children getting something for nothing. And Cristal Taylor who through her selfish behavior will give birth in prison and will never work a day again in her life because she will commit her life to raising her child which will require her not to work. And she will need to bring up the child in an environment to which she has become accustomed.

So as much as I rant, my husband rants or my kids rant - my four loads of laundry, my bedroom that has a family of dusty bunnies living under the bed, and a double car garage that only parks one (we are getting ready to have a garage sale) somehow doesn't seem quite so bad after watching their lives crumpled before me on TV. I really do care, but shut-up, deal with the situation you created, and get off my TV - I am trying to watch America's Next Top Model - Season 1 and you keep interrupting.

Chesty Puller and Eleanor Duncan

2009-05-25T19:22:00.004-05:00

I grew up with the tradition of visiting graves on Memorial Day with my Grandma Duncan. The entourage that usually accompanied my Grandma were my sister, my mom, an aunt or two and trunk load of flowers cut from my Grandma's backyard It was an all day trip to graves in Ft. Riley, Leonardville, Riley and Linn. I hated Memorial Day because when all my friends were at the opening weekend of the city pool or at the lake - I was sweating in the back seat listening to AM radio cracking and popping while my grandma drove down a gravel road with the windows down. Neither my dad nor my grandma thought it necessary to purchase a car with air conditioning until much later in their life.....couldn't break off the extra bucks for something so fancy....what would the relatives think?!?!?

I can clearly remember flags on each veteran's grave, flowers, old men and women meandering in and around the graves.......I couldn't even wrap my brain around why all of these people were just hanging about. My philosophy then was get in and get out....drop the flowers, pull a few weeds, exchange a few pleasantries with others also there. This is where my philosophy severely collided with my Grandma Duncan - Eleanor. Eleanor's goal was to provide a thorough family history of the particular individual, what part they played for our country and family and how and when they died. This soliloquy played out like a Shakespearean play at every tombstone and cemetery. At some point, I would see her mouth moving and yet I never heard a word she uttered. My thoughts were far away diving and jumping in and out of the pool and the smell of baby oil lightly scenting the air. MISSY! Did you hear what I said? Huh? And without the slightest - I said "NO." Again it was one of those moments that you realize that your outside voice was saying exactly what your inside voice was suppose to keep quiet. And that was the only time that I can ever recall telling Grandma that I wasn't listening. As it was followed by a swift swat to my rear from my mom and the scariest stink eye that a grandma could give you. AND THEN...........the story started over with the same enthusiasm and clarity as if the the events had only unfolded yesterday. It was here and then that I determined that I would be cremated so not to have to inflict the same drudgery to my children and their children on each and every Memorial Day.

On this Memorial Day over 500 miles away from those cemeteries, I find myself taking down my flag before sunset and pausing to give a silent thanks to those who have gone before us in the name of God and Country. And to those who served proudly and are still with us, those presently serving, and to those of you in the future who will serve. It seems so trite to say thank-you, but it is offered from the heart. And although I still want to be cremated, I would give anything to spend one more Memorial Day with my Grandma Duncan visiting graves, dropping off flowers and listening with the finest tuned ear to every noun, verb and adjective that came out of her mouth. Grandma, thank-you and I will see you in July. It is me who leaves little stones on your tombstone. And "Good night Chesty, wherever you are!!!"

Let Me Put My Glasses On...Oh, Now I Can See The Fashion

2009-05-19T15:39:00.013-05:00

Fashion. A word that either instills a great fear in 50% of the women on the earth or brings the other 50% to euphoric levels. I happen to be in the first 50%. I have always been blue jean, sweatshirt and boots kinda of girl, but I was born to a first level fashionista (my mom) who gave birth to a second fashionista (my sister) - they fall in the latter 50% of the population. The first and second level fashionista's (FLF and SLF, respectively) tried hard as they could to make me more fashion forward as I was growing - they would get excited about going to the fabric store spending what felt like hours pouring over pattern books and looking at bolt after bolt of material......and there I would be in the back with my head down on the McCall's pattern book yawning and complaining. This scenario would repeat itself with precision almost weekly. Don't get me wrong - I was able to dress up periodically for the occasional family wedding or graduation ceremony, but everyday?!?!?! I was content with t-shirts and earth shoes. Even in college, I wore overalls and long underwear shirts - I was comfortable; however, my sister had other ideas. She finally cornered me and said, "Donna, you are a junior and you look like a farmer." And in the next breath, she says, "And you don't even wear makeup!!!" And all along - I thought I had it together - oh - how wrong I was and that was just Manhattan, Kansas. Phase One of incorporating fashion into my life.

Jump forward a couple of years and I land in Dallas, Texas - the land of the beautiful, always dressed women. I worked with women who kept logs in their closet of the items of clothes that they had worn from day to day as so not to wear the same thing within the same month. Oh heavens, I was just trying not to wear the same thing in the same week. And silly me - I really only thought that you needed 3 pairs of pumps: black, blue and brown. The women I worked with matched the nails to their shoes to their outfits - everyday - and I didn't even wear lipstick. These became known as the peripheral fashionistas (PF) who have invaded my life and brought on Phase Two of incorporating fashion into my life.

Take another leap forward about 11 years and Phase Three of incorporating fashion into my life - I give birth to a baby daughter. Everyone says that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and it really holds true except in one area.......you guessed it....fashion. She has become the third level fashionista (TLF) who blesses my life. This girl can change her clothes as many as five times a day, she loves shoes, purses, hair accessories.....in short anything fashion - she loves it. It is all cyclical and I prefer lounge pants, hair pulled back in a ponytail, flip flops these days and I am quite content. Which does serve me well with the TLF.....so like a noteworthy royal I have good blood lines. I can call on the FLF when the TLF "needs" to shop. The FLF steps in with giddy anticipation. They speak of things that make my head spin like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.....trying on clothes and malls. I would rather spork my brain out. The FLF and the TLF went shopping over the weekend for a 5th grade graduation dress and where gone about 4 hours and they came home with a great dress with the perfect shoes. Neither could have been more happy than if they would have been angels playing harps and drinking honey. Thanks, mom - you do make my life easier (especially since my son is a fashionista as well)!!!!

I can be fashion challenged - I am not too proud to say it aloud. And yes - I admit that I have to ask the TLF which shoes look better with my outfit. Go ahead-do the math. A 48 year old asking an 11 year old for fashion advice....not a pretty picture, but she is always right for which I am thankful. After living in Dallas for 24 years - a little bit of fashion does rub off on you.

Truth be told - there is one area of fashion that I don't spare the expense. Eyeglasses. The most recent pair came in delightful blue box marked Tiffany's. It was a decadent purchase for which I don't apologize. One would deduce that I have entered Phase Four of incorporating fashion into my life. Does that mean that I have become a mindful luxury immersed fashionista - a MLIF?!?!?! Oh wait - that might be something completely different......Anne Wintour eat your heart out.

Give Me The Flying Monkeys Anyday

2009-05-18T20:21:00.002-05:00

I grew up in the age of no movie rentals, no DVD purchases and quite frankly I can remember when we got a color TV, which was a huge deal even though we only got three channel, but I digress. The point that I wanted to make is that you had to wait from year to year for certain shows to air on TV. Once year you got to see The Wizard of Oz which always seemed to air around Thanksgiving, The Sound of Music - December, and Chitty, Chitty Bang-Bang in October. And here is where I want to make my point. I love the movie Chitty, Chitty Bang-Bang (CCBB) I love the car, and I love to sing the songs. However, there is a part of the movie that I HATE and to this day it gives me the creeps. It is the "Child Catcher" - the one who smells out the children and then captures them and sends them to the underground caves to live. He had that long nose that allowed him to smell the kids, that pale makeup that made him appear that he never really saw the light of day, long black hair, a top hat with flowers on it and a net so big that could lift a shark out of the ocean with it. Ooohhh - it makes me shudder and makes the hair on my body stand-up. Someone must have been strung out on crack and booze when they decided what the child catcher should look like in this film. Holy cow, I will take the flying monkeys any day. After watching CCBB - it would take me about 4 days and nights before I could shake the child catcher much to my sister's disdain. Being a year younger she took great pride in the fact that he didn't seem to bother her that much. I know that you are probably saying to yourself, "Donna, why not stop watching the movie if it bothers you that much?" And I would reply, "Because it only came on once a year." Fast forward to 2009. You find that you regret the minute that it leaves your mouth - when you mentioned to your 17 year old son that the child catcher gives you the creeps. And being the caring, loving son that he is - it has now become his wall paper on his computer and he added "Hi Donna" in black and red letters. Oh and did I mention that he will periodically pull the clip from the internet and play it for me. A what nice son and what a wonderful thing the internet is. [Insert Sarcasm Here]

I went out on the internet to see who portrayed the Child Catcher. An actor named Robert Helpmann who out of character and without makeup still looks that if he turned around quickly he would instantly be in character. He was made a Sir in the British Empire and by all accounts was recognized as a great actor from Australia. However, when he died The Times in London wrote he was "...strange, haunting, and rather frightening." I feel somehow that my fear justified especially when the The Times was scared of him also.

Did I mention that I think that the Burger King "King" creeps me out as well????

Earning the Girl Scout Badge - Part II

2009-05-15T13:51:00.003-05:00

PART II:

1. Don't waste your money on the colonic - it is an easy way to lose weight, but you have to be committed - I mean really committed. You will not leave your house for a good 8 hours - heck - you might not even leave a 40 foot area. And there better be a bathroom within that 40 feet....enough said.

2. Corn is the same...enough said on that.

3. I lost 4 pounds total, but gained a huge appreciation for soft 4-ply tissue...enough said

To confirm, I did earn the girl scout colonoscopy badge and passed with flying colors. Now if I can just find time to earn the "Underwater Basket Weaving" badge.

Bubbie, Baby Milo, and Six Cents: got to love a nickname - I do!!!

2009-05-15T11:33:00.021-05:00

Do you ever wonder how get their nicknames? I must admit that I do. I also admit that I read the obits everyday - I know that sounds morbid - but I love to see how people lived their lives, but more so I love to see people's nicknames. There are always the "Bill" for William; "Patti" for Patricia; "Donnie" for Donald; "Ken" for Kenneth; "Cathy" for Catherine and I get those nicknames. The nicknames that have always confused me are "Peg" for Margaret; "Ted" for Edward; "Dick" for Richard - who thought of those - they don't even make sense?!?!?! If someone knows the history behind those - let me know - I would love to mark this off my list of things to periodically ponder. Now let's talk about great nicknames of the recently dearly departed that have appeared in the obits - may you rest in peace. Drum roll, please and in no particular order:

Chicken
Snookie
Tweetie Bird
Curly
Butta
Toots
Chilie
Light-Brown
Beanie
T-Bone
S-Girl
Topsy
Double
Dodo
Topsy

My dad's best friend is called Fish (Gene) and my dad is Bollweevil or Uncle Piney (Don). My sister was called Grub until she figured out it was a worm that lived in the ground and threw a major temper tantrum. After that she was called Sonie (Sondra). My cousin dated a girl called Six Cents (Penny Ann Nickle). My step-sister is called Doone (Lori). Me????? Well, my dad has always called me Missy - and to this day still addresses envelopes and packages to Missy - I love it. The other nicknames that I have had are slightly more obvious - DP and DJ. And now my kids call me Flipper.

I know that most people shudder when you find out their nicknames - I am just the opposite - I find that giving or getting a nickname is sign of endearment and life would be just a bit less colorful without Boogs, Sqweeb, and The Boy. And for the record.....for about 6-12 months (in high school) I was anointed Zero by the little brother of my first boyfriend.

Vitamin D, Dancing Trees, and Dog Spit

2009-05-13T14:18:00.008-05:00

How often are you still? No - not sleeping still, but really still.....outside and using all of your senses to take it all in? I too have to admit that it has been awhile since I went outdoors and was still. Today I remedied that. The sun came out and I decided to be still in my backyard. It was an amazing 30 minutes. First, the sun played a game of hide and seek with the clouds and it warmed me - not too hot - but just right - a nice way to absorb a good dose of vitamin D. And while I lay there on the trampoline, there was a concert of sounds surrounding me. I heard birds chirping and I heard birds squawking, I heard several planes overheard - one heading north and a few minutes later - one heading south. And if I was very still I could hear Tim (our dog) breathing next to me. Being a particularly windy day there were times the wind blew so gently that my hair caressed my face and it tickled. And other times it was so gusty that I could hear it rumbling through my ears.

And while adjusting my sunglasses during a fervent gust, the weeping willow appeared to be doing "the dance of a thousand veils" each branch swaying to and fro as if choreographed just for me and just as quick the wind changed directions and the magnolia tree bellowed back with its thick shiny leaves asking for attention. Beautiful, giant, white, bowl-sized blooms presented themselves to me with head swirling aroma. These are trees in my backyard that I see everyday; however, I usually don't see them like I saw them today.

The sounds of nature were serenading me into a peaceful level of unconsciousness....I was strolling on the sand, the sea mist spraying me in the face while the ocean cooled my feet - picture it if you can. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM....my peace was interrupted with a barrage of bass resonating from the neighbor's car radio. And within an instant, I began to process that the sea mist spraying my face was really sweat rolling down my face and the ocean cooling my feet was Tim licking my feet. So much for my serenity of being still with my senses.

If you find that you have 30 minutes to spare - think about being still in your own backyard; however, you probably should set aside another 15 minutes because you will need to shower off the sweat and dog spit. ~Donna~

Earning a Girl Scout Badge

2009-05-12T17:27:00.009-05:00

I feel like I am getting ready to earn a girl scout badge. No, I am not going to build a bird house out of toothpicks or learn how to build a fire with only foil and a stick. No - I am doing something that is much more intense with explosive results........I am going to have a colonoscopy on Thursday - YEAH!!! Ok - insert (maybe a bad choice of words) all jokes here and go ahead and sing the Roto-Rooter song. (Which once you do - it will be stuck in your head all day. Go ahead try it....don't say I didn't warn you). You know everyone has a story about having "one" done and how bad the prep work is.....really.....how bad can it be drinking clear liquids for a day laced with laxatives?!?!? Of course, my doctor did say today that I should stay close to home while using the "prep" - what a nice word. I am going to re-name this process to "POO-BE-GONE" (echo, echo, echo) or the medical acronym PBG.

So here is my plan for this scientific adventure of PBG:

1. I will be taking my weight first thing in the morning for a benchmark. The goal is to tell you afterwards if an over-the-counter colonic is really worth your disposable cash for that upcoming reunion or wedding that you want to attend.

2. DISCLAIMER -for those of you with a weak stomach - don't read and go to number 3. They always say that corn does not digest and that it comes out looking the same as it went in....I am having corn tonight find out if this is fact or fiction. After this I may become Michael Newman - who firmly believes that nothing good comes out of eating corn and that in the end it will kill you.

3. Record my weight loss throughout the day.

I know that this not a typical topic of conversation, but if you can't talk about poo amongst friends; what can you talk about it?!?! I will keep you posted - I just hope I am worthy of the badge!!!!

Punch Drunk - Fat Lip

2009-05-11T19:43:00.006-05:00

Not sure how this happened, but this morning I woke up with a fat lip. Not the slightly swollen lip, but the kind that you get if you are in a good bar room brawl, nasty chick fight, an allergic reaction to shellfish or a visit to Pam Anderson's cosmetic surgeon - none of which occured this past weekend. I thought something was amiss when I woke up and I could see my upper lip protruding out from underneath my nose, but I wrote it off to not being fully awake. I continued to edge downstairs toward a cup of coffee, and noticed how Tim (our dog) was looking at me. You know the look.....head turned to the side, ears back, thinking to himself - what in the world happened to her?!?!?!. So maybe it was worth a second look - and there it was staring at me in the mirror - a fat upper lip......this is when I started racking my brain. Did I sleep walk and run into the wall??? Did I dream that I was a prize fighter taking on Ali and punch myself in the face??? I cannot for the life of me figure what the heck I might have done that would have caused the fat lip, but it was and is still worthy of an ice pack. All day I have been icing it and it goes down for a while, but remove the ice and WHOOSH just like I blew up a balloon.

Here is where I might need to mention that I have had a difficult time sleeping the last three nights and I have taken an Ambien, to no avail, to help me sleep through the night which has resulted in me being a bit punch drunk due to lack of sleep. I think tonight I will try a glass of wine before I lay my head down and see if that helps. But just in case...if you saw me in a bar room brawl with a chick named Pam Anderson over raw shrimp - could you call me and let me know???? It would answer a few questions for me. Of course one questions still remains - how I got the tattoo that resides lower than my low rise jeans.

A Muumuu, Caftan, or Bata de Casa by any other name

2009-05-07T15:45:00.000-05:00

When I was growing up, I had friends whose moms stayed at home and there seemed to be a "uniform" that they all wore......flat shoes and the house dress. It was the uniform of domesticity and grandmas. It was a time of - kids to school, kids home for lunch, daily laundry, baking cookie and cupcakes, dinner, dishes, kids bathed, bedtime stories and mom always took a bath. Sorry I digress....back to the house dress which is my real focus!!! For those of you who are too young to know the house dress (because everyone my age and older know the house dress) - let me try to paint a visual for you. Loose fitting dress/shift some with elastic around the neck for those moms who where a bit larger or a button front for the more petite moms. The material seemed to be last years lawn chair; although, it was lightweight. This enable mom to work and yet still be "dressed."

Fast forward to the 21 century. The housewives of 2009 are running and gunning with kids, errands, but they are no uniforms, like yesteryear. The uniform now runs the gamut of `uber chic to `uber sloppy even for grandmas. That is until today, when reading the Dallas Morning News I see an advertisement from Dillard's and guess what they are selling?!?!?! You guessed it........The 1960 housewives uniform - the house dress; however, it is no longer called the house dress. It is now called "The Patio Dress." Are you kidding me.........I know a house dress when I see one. A Patio Dress?!?!?...do you only wear it while on the patio.....hhhmmmm......it me see if I can visualize this........"Chris, wait a minute - let me run upstairs and put on my patio dress before we begin sipping our adult beverages on the patio." I shutter to think.

I loved seeing my grandma in her house dress and I didn't even mind seeing Mrs. Black puttering around her in her garden tending weeds bent over in her house dress. AND I understand the notion of fashion trends when everything old is new again, but really......this dress?!?!? I am calling all women who have purchasing power to stand up and boycott the clandestine resurgence of the House Dress. Don't' be fooled ladies it was not pretty or flattering then and it is not now. In my best Scarlett O'Hara voice, "As God is my witness, I shall never be a caught dead in a house dress regardless of my age."

Of course, you will need disregard the pictures of me in the islands - where it is the muumuu and becomes stylish; or the pictures on the promenade deck of the Princess -where it is called the caftan and it stylish ship wear or pictures from Ixpata, Mexico where it called the Bata de Casa and it just sounds stylish.

So as Mother's Day nears don't be fooled - the Patio Dress is just a House Dress wrapped up in a fancy title. ~Donna~

Pondering Poe and Panic Attacks

2009-05-06T11:20:00.000-05:00

"Through joy and through sorrow, I wrote. Through hunger and through thirst, I wrote. Through good report and through ill report, I wrote. Through sunshine and through moonshine, I wrote. What I wrote it is unnecessary to say." ~Edgar A. Poe~

Do you think that Poe had panic attacks? I have read several versions of Poe's demise....ending with being found in a gutter in France suffering from dellusions. Had modern medicine been available, could Poe have been the poster child for Xanax and gone on to more literary victories??? I wonder. I have always loved the written word and took comfort many an afternoon in the Manhattan Public Library after many junior high days.......always longing to be an author. And yet when I decided to start a blog, I never thought that on the second day that I would have a panic attack. What would be said, who would read this, who would care....oddly enough......much would be said, many would care. I received an email from an old classmate - who thanked me for the blog as she was going through some medical issues and had to have some tests run and didn't feel so alone after reading my blog. I am touched. Along with words of gratitude have come words of caution which have weighed heavily on me. Someone once told me that when it appears that people are against you - you might be wrong or you might be 100% right. I love the written word and this feels right - so like Poe - I will write in times of sorrow and joy; in sunshine and moonshine and through good report and ill report.

Just for today, I will raise a glass of Cognac to honor Poe. ~Donna~

DISCLAIMER (of sorts)..there always seems to be one!!!

2009-05-05T19:55:00.000-05:00

The views expressed within this blog are mine and mine only. This blog serves as....well.....a blog......it allows a personal glimpse into my quirky world and it is not intended to harm anyone nor is it intended to replace medical, financial, emotional, physical, spiritual, or educational advice that you might need to obtained from a professional.
~Donna~

MRI, Abraham Lincoln and Danish Royalty?!?!?

2009-05-05T11:23:00.000-05:00

This morning I had an MRI (I am in the frequent scanner club - have 4 done, get the 5th free) and while I was laying there amongst the cornacopia of clanks, clunks and changchangchang, I started pondering the last 24 hours of newsworthy items and not-so-items. For the first 30 minutes, I wondered why there is a doctor out there who wants to test a cloth soaked in Abraham Lincoln's brain matter and blood to determine if he was dying of cancer. Really?!!? Why do we need to know this? Do we care? Will we re-write history books? If it doesn't matter to his descendants - why does it matter to us?? Don't get me wrong - I am a big fan of Lincoln's - I just think this may cross the line. Speaking of Lincoln.....when you see a penny do you pick it up??? My grandma used to always say, "Find a penny pick it up - all day long you'll have good luck." I admit - I do.

For the second 30 minutes of the MRI (this portion with contrast), I pondered Danish royalty...I know right........how many are there, where do they live and why do we call them Danes? Germans from Germany, Austrians from Austria, Fins from Finland, Swedes from Sweden - so it should be Dens from Denmark...right?!? When was it decided and by who that Dens would become Danes??? Doesn't that seem a bit odd???

Today I am having lunch with Gray - I am taking her McDonald's and then getting Mason early from school...today he gets his braces off. Finally will have pictures again with him showing his teeth.....until the next glass of whine. ~Donna~

Tappin' the First Box

2009-05-04T09:43:00.000-05:00

Now that I have some extra time on my hands.......for those of you who don't know; I am out on medical leave - no, not swine flu - I will be having the last of surgery in a week or so.....I will keep you posted. I thought I would jump into the technology pool of blogs.....I hope my floaties work!!!! As a newbie....I am only at the bubble blowing stage, but before you know it - I will be flutter kicking all over this "pool." Where do I start?!?!?! I have read the newspaper, had a cup of coffee, watched some news, and oh yes, I am still lounging in my jammies.....OMG.....this is how is it begins......one day a blogger - the next day - world headlines....700 pound woman stuck in bed with computer and chicken salad sandwich lodged under her armpits - city donates front-end loader for removal....now isn't that a visual. I will have to find things to do or I will be that headline!!!!!! I need to make several doctors appointments, go to the grocery, pick Mason and Gray from school and volley ball practice tonight. So this is what "stepford wives" do.......hhhmmmm...let me find my pearls. Let's raise a glass of wine to my first blog!!!