Little did I know when I started this blog that the title would expand, requiring me to ask this question of so many new situations in my life....

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Everything's comin' up roses......



"On January 1, 2007 at 2:00 p.m. (PST) following
the Rose Parade, the 93rd Rose Bowl Game
will feature an exciting match up between two
championship teams, once again showcasing
the best of collegiate football in The Granddaddy
of Them AllĀ®. The Rose Bowl will be
broadcast exclusively on ABC and
on ESPN radio."

Like -- OMG! Totally -- Eeek! To the max!

Yes, sir. Yes, ma'am. You heard it here. LSU IS GOING TO THE ROSE BOWL!

....At least that's what one local tv station said last night. The other station said -- not so fast -- things could happen in this coming Saturday's games that could knock us to the Sugar Bowl.

Yeah! Tell that to the over 32,500 people who have already ordered tickets....

Do you think now that it's (semi)official that the radio stations in town will stop playing "California Dreaming"....

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

The Thanksgiving Guest & the Green Bean Casserole



Thanksgiving in Mississippi was not what I expected. Not only did J and I spend it with our daughter and #3 son, but we were blessed to have been able to act as surrogate holiday parents to five of their friends who were unable to make it home. These kids made such an effort to make the day special. They had the house decorated, a tv was tuned to football in one room, and music was playing in other rooms -- music that was enjoyed by all ages. Candles glowed from tables and shelves (I know A and her roommates did this to hide any stray scent of the litter boxes for the four cats), cranberry juice, wine, and three kinds of beer were chilled, waiting to be sipped as we finished dinner preparations. I had made munchies to stave off appetites and -- who knew that sausage balls were a favorite of almost all there?

The kids had picked up a smoked turkey and it had been warmed and was resting under its foil tent, leaving the oven free for the casseroles. Desserts had been prepared the night before (by the kids!), and as the casseroles and veggies I'd brought warmed, my son was busy making the most delicious home-made rolls -- where did he learn to do this?!?! I must admit it -- they had things well-timed and under control, yet they indulged me by asking my advice on things (advice that I know they didn't really need). When did this happen -- these children of mine becoming all mature and capable and considerate?

The main worry I had was the green bean casserole. A special roommate had requested it. A roommate I know to be having a hell of a first semester in graduate school. I imagined she had asked because it was a special dish at her home so I wanted it to be perfect for her -- a comforting taste of home, this green bean casserole. When my daughter told me of her roommate's request I'd thought about calling her mom for the recipe so it would be as close to her memories as possible. You see, I've never made green bean casserole before.

I know it's a classic holiday dish, but....not in my family. We make a similar dish, but with green (English) peas, not green beans. Every time I'd call to ask if they were still getting the turkey (I just couldn't believe my good fortune), my daughter would remind me of the green bean casserole. I'd found several interesting looking recipes but she made it clear that her roommate would like the one you see on tv, the one with the crunchies on top.

Easy enough. The recipe was on cans of green beans, cans of cream of mushroom soup, and cans of crunchies -- aka Fried Onion Rings. But......I still agonized over wanting it to taste as A's roommate remembered it. Did her mom add cheese? Did her mom add soy sauce? Did her mom......

I don't know why I do things like that. I don't know why I couldn't just find the recipe and make the frickin' green bean casserole without creating all this drama for myself by crafting this elaborate story and then -- embellishing it!

In the end, the green bean casserole was made and carried to MS where it was re-warmed and served without any fanfare -- along with the turkey and all the other dishes. By the time we ate, I was so involved with everything that was going on, that I wasn't even thinking about the green bean casserole.

It wasn't until J and I were leaving and A's roommate gave me a hug and thanked me for making her the green bean casserole that I remembered how much I had wanted her to enjoy it. I hugged her back, told her I was happy to have made it for her, and that I was glad she had enjoyed it even though I knew it wasn't her mom's.

She smiled and said, "Oh, my mom doesn't make green bean casserole. It's just something I've always wanted."

And you know what else? J told me more than once how much he's always loved green bean casserole! All these years we've been together and he's never once asked for green bean casserole. Frickin' green bean casserole!

Thanksgiving in Mississippi was not what I expected; it turned out to be more lovely than I could have imagined.

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

HAPPY TURKEY DAY!



It's a wee bit early, I know, but...... I'm gonna be cookin' up a storm the next couple of daze. Somehow, it's ended up that J and I will be spending T-Day in Hattiesburg, MS with our daughter and #3 son, and a couple of their roommates, and....who-the-hell-knows who else. Since J has to work Friday, it'll be a very quick trip -- up there early Thursday and back home late-ish the same day. It's only about 2 1/2 hours so it won't be that bad -- I guess.

I have been in a cooking funk this year. I usually cook and freeze in mid-November for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Haven't done that this year. Haven't even shopped. In fact, I just made a menu and shopping list Sunday night. I've been trying to talk the kids into having lasagna and spaghetti with a big salad and lots of desserts -- to no avail....

So, off to the store and then......let the cooking begin!

I wish for each and every one a blessed day surrounded by friends and loved ones. If your lot is to be working or alone Thursday, I pray you are wrapped in warm memories.

Here's one dish we're having. (Can you tell I'm trying to put off the cooking thing?)



CORN CASSEROLE

- 1 can whole kernel corn (drained)
- 1 can cream corn
- 2 eggs, beaten
- 1 small onion, chopped
- 1/2 cup water
- 1 cup Jiffy corn muffin mix (substitutions are not as good)
- 1/2 stick melted margarine/butter

Mix all ingredients and pour into 2-quart pan. Bake at 350 degrees F for 1 hour.

Quick & Yummy! Enjoy!

Saturday, November 18, 2006

Tip for the day......



If you find yourself out of milk or cream for your coffee -- the above makes for a mighty good substitute.

Trust me on this one!

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Mortality......



Wouldn't it be odd to hear of your death on the local nightly news? That happened last night. Not to me but to J. Of course the person who died wasn't J himself -- it was someone who happened to share the same name. It was weird all the same.

I was first to hear it on the 5 0'clock news -- before J got home. At first I thought -- How odd.

Then I thought -- I'll have to have J listen to the 10 o'clock news and see how he reacts.

Then....I realized how he'd most likely react. He wouldn't just think it was an odd experience. He'd get all morbid and start creating allllllllll these *what if* scenarios. What really made me hesitate was knowing in my knower that he would ask me how I felt when I heard it.

This could easily lead to trouble because he knows me well enough to know I would have felt it was an odd thing hearing you were dead when you knew you weren't. That would have been (and was) all I would have felt. I wouldn't have been able to get all teary eyed and sniffly (is that a word?) and go with him on his *what-if* trips.

We've had this problem in the past. He's extremely sentimental. I'm not. He thinks I'm hard-hearted. I'm not. He thinks I'm unfeeling. I'm not. He knows who I am and how I'll probably react, so......why ask? I've learned to try and react as I hope he would wish. I utter "Aww's" and "Ooooh's" (whatever's appropriate for the situation), but it's never exactly right or enough.

The only explaniation I have for being the way I am, is that having experienced so many deep emotional shocks during the years, I've learned to protect myself. I live with too many real hurts to have time (or space) for imagined ones.

So, as time for the 10 o'clock news grew closer, I was debating in my head whether or not to *go there*. I was saved from making a decision when he said, "Did I tell you that a salesman called me today saying he'd heard a JC had died in last night's storms?"

Which led to me telling him I'd heard it on the early news. He looked at me and I could see it in his eyes. He was going to ask me how I felt when I heard it. Quickly, very quickly, I asked him how it felt to have people caring enough about him to call and check that he was okay. He looked at me and then answered my question. I think I got a pass on that one......

Monday, November 13, 2006

Died and gone to heaven?



Have you ever had something so unexpected happen, that turned out to be so great, that when you realized what you had been missing, you felt like kicking your butt all the way to the moon for not having tried it sooner? (I'm not talking about sex here folks.) I'm talking about football -- or more specifically, watching a football game. Okay, you may think I'm exaggerating a bit (and, of course I am -- a wee bit), but......after you read this (if you're a football fan), I'm thinking you'll be green with envy. ;)

It all started in early October when J informed me that we had tickets to the Alabama/LSU football game being played Nov. 11. That in itself was exciting because, as we all know, I love BAMA and LSU with all my heart. But....these were no ordinary tickets. Ah, non! These seats were in a suite! Mais, oui! (....I realize the French may not be entirely correct, blame Babel Fish -- not me.) Back to the game......

The day of the game arrives, finding me with no idea what to wear. I figure I should dress up a smidgen, but......how much. I mean, suite or no suite, it's still just a football game. So I did what any woman finding herself in my position would do. I asked everyone I knew for their opinion. No one knew for sure. (This made me realize what an un-privileged group we run with. I'm telling you I couldn't find one single person I knew who had been in one of the Tiger Dens -- aka suites.) Yes, I was on my own. J just asked me not to wear my usual shorts, t-shirt, and flip flops.... Duh! Did he really think I'd do that? I mean it was going to be cold -- too cold for shorts ( I do have flip flop socks tho.)

I managed to put together an outfit in various shades of purple (thinking how much I love this place. I mean it's hard to wear purple many places in the U.S. But down here purple is just fine -- Mardi Gras and one of my school's colors. ) So off we went, J in his crimson with the recognizable script 'A' (he decided to be true to BAMA) and me in my purple. We got some stares, laughs, and comments as we walked to the stadium. It was a night game and some of the fans we passed were so far gone after imbibing all day that they couldn't quite figure out what was amiss. They were the funny ones.

The first pleasure came as we arrived at Tiger Stadium and realized we didn't have to walk a step to get to our seats. There was a high-speed elevator at the ready to zoom us up to the tiger dens/suites. Ohhh! Ahhh!

In a matter of seconds we step out of the elevator -- 15 floors above ground into a sort of lobby with windows offering a fantastic view. Ohhh! Ahhh!

People are all around waiting to help you. I am directed to the ladies room (which I thought kind of smelled, but....) which had an attendant and baskets containing hair spray, lotion, etc. Okay, maybe not that unusual, except......remember......this was in a football stadium! It was for sure unlike any bathroom I'd ever stepped foot in during the oodles of football games I've attended over the years. But, there was still the obligatory line you find in any ladies room you visit. But not nearly as bad as the masses (as I now call those who aren't invited to a suite) have to maneuver. *muted* Ohhh! Ahhh!

Out of bathroom to find J waiting wondering, as usual, what the hell takes so long! As we head to our suite we notice lots of activity -- many people hustling by balancing trays containing all sorts of colorful, fizzy adult beverages. Ohhh! Ahhh!

We find our suite and it is filled with high-spirited, friendly people and good food and drink that keeps coming all through the game. Ohhh! Ahhh!

It was a fun evening. The suite was like a living room with sofas and chairs, a bar, closed circut tv showing the game, regular tv showing other games being played. You could choose to sit in that area or at the glassed in area where there was a bar and bar stools overlooking the field. Plenty of game day programs were laying about. You could also step outside into the actual stadium where there were seats just for each suite. It was a perfect night for football -- clear and cold (and windy!). Nothing like carrying a drink, a bowl of gumbo, a plate of food, a cup of coffee, out in the cold to sit and watch the game. All the conveniences of home.

As far as I'm concerned, that's the only way to watch a football game. Life was good that night. Sitting under the starry sky with the Mississippi River Bridge lit up in the distance, in a stadium I love, with both my teams on the field. OHHH! AHHH!

I wonder if I'll ever have an experience like that again? ......Once is not enough!

Friday, November 10, 2006

WTF!



Here's what the paper wrote:

"A major blunder at city jail is forcing the constable's office to make some changes. Three inmates were supposed to be released before closing time, but soon noticed they had been forgotten. The office is taking measures to better secure the jail and make sure this never happens again."

Here's what the paper didn't write:

(my words): The three inmates were/are "day prisioners" -- they come to the jail in the morning (and are locked up), then, they are set free to go home at night. Well....apparently, they showed up Thursday morning and were locked up. Then, when Thursday night came....no one remembered to unlock their cell/s. (I guess the people charged with that little task were too anxious to start their three-day weekend??)

Anywhoo....the three inmates were forced to break out of jail. (It apparently didn't take them too long because they made local news that very night.) Once out they called their families and 911 -- to inform the police that they had just broken out of jail. ????

And....if you read carefully you'll note that our jail closes. WTF!

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Snoopy Dancing!



Election sweep! The House and the Senate! Who'd a thunk it?

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

I had my first ever facial last week......



Maybe my next one will go better. I think the idea of a facial is to relax and be pampered? Well, honey chile, I'm here to tell you that I couldn't begin to do either one. Well....not for the first 15 minutes or so -- I did better as things progressed....much better. :)

I think my problem was that I entered into the whole thing with a preconceived notion that this is how it would go:

1.) Sit in chair

2.) Facial-giving person would then put some stuff on my face that would tighten & tingle.

3.) I would thank her, pay, and ....that would be it.

Well......that's not exactly how it went. You see, my facial-giving person/facialist (if that's not a word -- it should be) is also a masseuse. Which means she has a table instead of a chair. And, apparently, she can't resist massaging -- even when she's only giving a facial.

So, here's how my facial went:

1.) I walk in expecting to sit in one of the chairs I so often sit in while someone magically erases all hints of grey from my hair having my hair cut.

2.) My facialist (legit word or not -- I'm declaring it legit for today) hands me a form to fill out. When I'm done, she knows more about me than my husband.

3.) I realize I'm not gonna be sittin' in one of those familiar chairs. I'm going to be lying down on that table in the back room. (!!) The very table those men who are put on her "do not book" list lie on. (You know the ones. The ones who, even though she puts a warm stone on their foreheads....there is still a visible rise under the sheet.

4.) Standing in the darkened back room -- with it's new-age music and it's light effects -- (practicing deep-breathing while furiously repeating comforting, encouraging words to myself such as -- "You idiot! You provincial-minded moron, what do you think's going to happen to you right here in a beauty salon! It's only a facial, you fool!") -- I hear her say, "I usually suggest my clients remove their tops because I do a litte massaging." Jesus Christ! I just want a frickin' facial! What have I gotten myself into!

*At this point, I know many are shaking their heads thinking what an uptight, inexperienced, dufus I am. I know this because that's exactly what I was thinking at the time. I was alternating between moments of sheer panic (??) and moments where I had to contain myself so I wouldn't laugh outloud -- at myself. To continue....

5.) My facialist/(now) masseuse leaves the room so I can "disrobe". I think, "She said it was up to me. I don't have to take anything off. But....if I don't she may think I think she's weird." So....I decide to remove my t-shirt. Then I notice my bra. Oh, Lord God! What about the bra! I decide to keep the bra on so she won't think I'm coming on to her. ???? (At this point -- even while writing this -- I'm slapping my own face for being such a fool. But....I can't seem to stop it.)

6.) Top off. Bra firmly in place, I climb onto the table. I've just gotta say here that that was one freakin' high table for someone who's all of 5 feet. But....I make it onto the table -- where the sheets are. BIG smile here. I know to get under the sheets. I know this because I remember hearing my facialist/(now) masseuse tell about a male-hottie-client who didn't know that he was supposed to cover himself with the sheet. ....She said she almost didn't tell him to get under the sheets because he had such a hot bod.

7.) I am now under the sheets (with bra in place). In walks my facialist/(now) masseuse. The room is darkened. The music's softly playing in the background. The water feature's doing it's thing. She sits behind me and tells me she usually doesn't talk much so I can enjoy the experience. (!! Jeeeeezzzzuuuussss! I just expected someone to put some tingly stuff on my face. That's what I thought enjoyment was!) But, she says, if I have any questions, just ask them. Sounds lovely, huh? ....Not exactly. Not to someone who is by now wondering if they are much more neurotic than they ever realized. So....as she begins to do her thing, instead of relaxing, I'm lying there wondering if I should also be silent or if I'm obligated to respond appreciatively (sp?? I'm not even gonna check) with ooooo's and ahhhhh's. I'm still having to surpress the laughter (at myself), and the thinking that I should be helping her by handing her things and.....whatever.

To cut to the chase...... I finally got into the experience and "almost" totally enjoyed it. She spritzed these yummy scents, massaged shoulders, arms, and hands (yes, I probably should have taken off my bra!), and she did indeed put something tingly on my face (along with lots of other stuff).

Next time (and there will be a next time), I hope to be able to just -- strip, climb on the table, and wait to be ministered to.

Friday, November 03, 2006

The Emperor of the World, Ernie K-Doe, & All Saints Day



That's the world famous Mother-in-Law Lounge. :)

If you know Ernie K-Doe, and ....if this link works.... you just might enjoy this Windows Media clip. Have fun!


Go to: http://www.wafb.com/

When you get there you'll see some print boxed in with green borders. Look for "Add to Playlist" and click on "All Saints Day in New Orleans"

I hope that rig-a-ma-rol gets you there, if not -- just iisten to "Mother-in-Law"

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Not to get political......



har, har, har....

But....I remeber, years ago, hearing a comment by Hillary Clinton that has, obviously, stayed with me. ....No, it wasn't the "stand by your man" thing. :)

I don't have the text of her comment, so how much I'm paraphrasing or putting my words in her mouth is up for consideration and debate. As I remember it, she was advocating that after high school graduation, American teens be required to give a year of community service to the country. Does that idea sound sensible to anyone else but me? I don't remember hearing any discussion or debate on it. Maybe it struck a cord with me because I had four children who either were or were soon-to-be teens at the time.

Over the years I've heard and read comments about how our educational system was set up for a different era -- at one point in our history children were needed home to help in planting and harvesting, among other considerations. More recently, I've heard how our high schools are not relevant to today's youths. So what do we do?

I guess that's the sticking point. If we allow students to finish high school quickly, what do they do (or what do we do with them) then? Our society has no meaningful place for teenagers. By that I mean we aren't ready, in general, to trust them in positions of responsibility. And with good reason -- they have lots of growing up/experiencing left to do. Let them grow up in college seems to be one accepted answer. ???? I don't know about you, but after sending four children to college (three of whom are still there), I'm here to tell you that there's got to be a cheaper way for them to mature. From personal experience I can assure you that a bright, capable, highly-functioning young person can actually obtain a Master's degree in a field, and be working on a doctorate before she (or he -- it's a she in my case) has any hand-on experience in the field. And then -- when she finds work in her chosen field, realize that she hates it. (Sorry. That last sentence was personal venting.)

Sticking to the point -- which I'm not good at....

A gap year (as I hear the Europeans call it), IMO, is something I think we should encourage. But....I think it should be intentional and well-planned. An aimless year could bring problems that affect a young person for years. Unfortunately, I think many young people are spending that year rather aimlessly at present -- whether attending college or not. Young people today can easily acquire so much debt, even (or especially) while attending college.

Even so, the idea of a year's community service between high school and college may sound better in theory than in practice. First, we would probably end up with a new government bureaucracy. Second, I realize there are young people ready for college and/or beginning careers and families. Still and all, with our country facing such needs and challenges, maybe the idea of some kind of requied community service should be tossed around.

Next on the agenda, what can we do about our prision system? Any takers on this one?

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Ashamed of myself......



I didn't go through Katrina. I was affected by Katrina in many ways, butI didn't go through the horrors those in New Orleans, along the Mississippi gulf coast, or in Hattiesburg, MS (where my daughter and her roommates are still recoering from the storm's effects). No, I was blessed to be left with my life pretty much in tact in a place where I could offer direct help. I provided a place of shelter to son #3,and A and her roommates. I tried to find out what those in my city who had been displaced by the storm needed. Sometimes the needs were for things I wouldn't have thought of -- new underwear, socks, the correct type of hair products, deoderant, mouth wash, diapers, sanitary products. The needs were basic and the needs were immediate. Once my children were somewhat settled back into their lives, I tried give my timee tutoring, reading to children....which never really worked out well because things were still in such turmoil.

The point is......even though I wasn't dircetly affected with loss, I was in daily contact with those whose lives had been impacted (at the least), and devistated (at the worse). I saw the tears of pain and despair every day and night. That's why I'm astounded at how I can lose sight of what I saw and felt. How I can find myself agreeing (silently or verbally) when I hear or read comments like: why don't those people find a job? why don't those people realize they're not going back to New Orleans and just move on? why don't those people enroll their kids in school? why are those people walking the streets and highways all around BR -- we don't do that here. why are those kids starting fights in our middle and high schools? why don't those people just get with the program and start looking and acting like us?

Things like the above have been said from the beginning, and, back then, I had no patience for that type thinking. I became furious quickly. I still, normally, become aggravated at comments like those. But something I heard today made me realize how lax I've been in guarding my thoughts. And it startled the hell out of me how quickly we can lose touch with the truth. How quickly we can start distancing ourselves from good, if bringing about good is becoming hard, tiring, inconvenient.

Here's what I heard this morning on talk radio. I can't remember exactly what the topic was, but a couple of the callers were putting blame on 'those New Orleans people who have moved here'. At the time of the comments I don't even remember being conscious that I was agreeing -- or, at least that I wasn't disagreeing. Untill.... Untill a woman with the gentlest, kindest, saddest voice called in. She didn't rant and rave. She only said that she was from New Orleans East, living in Baton Rouge now, and that it hurt her heart to hear people talk about those people from New Orleans. It hurt her heart.

I wish I could have hugged her and told her how it hurt my heart to realize I had allowed myself to become one of those people who would agree with talk like that. It hurt my heart.

I vowed to keep a closer rein on my thoughts, and on what's good, and what's right.