Chocolate Chip Football?

I thought I had chosen the perfect time. I thought I would breeze in and out in moments. It was days before Thanksgiving. There was nothing on my list that even remotely sounded like something anyone would cook for a feast. I thought I was removing a chore from my list. As it turned out, and does every time, GOD had planned an adventure that not only would affect me but, from what I later saw two others.

I was at the grocery store picking up a few needed items for my famous chicken club tacos 

and the chocolate chips needed to make my traditional Holiday pie.

A pie I have made for years, which my youngest believes is as traditional as most people view Pumpkin Pie. I had in my little hand basket everything I needed and the chocolate chips were the last item to grab.  I turned the corner to traverse the baking aisle when I came to an abrupt halt.

This was caused in part by the immense crowd, most with the huge buggies (not the small buggies) along the length of the aisle and a store employee with a huge cart loaded down with cases of evaporated and condensed milk who had just pushed his way to the start of the aisle.  Before I could stop it “Bloody Hell!” came tumbling from my lips. A Lady, who was half my size (in other words extremely short and very thin) to my right was huddled up next to an over-abundant end cap of cranberry sauce practically shaking with apprehension. Another Lady to my left had slammed on her energetic brakes at the same moment I had and was looking down the aisle with the expression one might wear while watching lions in the wild take down a wildebeest not 20 feet in front of you. 

I giggled. They both looked at me with concern after the expletive I had just uttered and then followed that with an obvious frosting of humor. I looked left and right and said “Ladies, I was NOT expecting this.” Tiny, the Lady to my right “I do not even live here. I live in New Berlin, I came here because it was a larger store than we have.” Looking again at them both I said “I say we do this. Let’s formulate a plan of what we absolutely need and make a run for it. No mercy!!” To my amazement they both move closer to me. It was a gauntlet, a field of big, ugly burly defensive linemen.

 There were defensive tackles and to either side of them some incredible scary defensive ends. I could see up middle the outside linebackers jostling and taunting us. One of the corner backs nodded her head much like Nemo taunting Mr. Smith.

All of a sudden there is a hole opening up in the middle and I start to move but the nose guard (employee with cart of boxes)  sensing my play blocks me and effectively also blocks my line of sight. He moves right as I shout” up the middle, now, now!” we start, only to have the safety (a large blonde woman with a huge buggy) move straight for us and stop. “Oh hell no!! She just did not do that!” I say in my outside stadium voice (apparently because several people turn to look) and my team, to my surprise move closer to me in solidarity and support. The safety sensing a shift in the Force moves forward and left. “Ready…..” Tiny squeaks “I am right behind you!!” and the other Lady shouts “GO!!!”  I charge up the middle and to my surprise the defensive team seems to be frozen they just stand there not moving except for a corner back whisking a small linebacker out of my way.

I go right, praying to catch the chocolate chips, when I see them. There they are and there is, hidden behind her guards a very strong safety. Strong as in agile, fleet of foot and very beautiful. 

I fake left and right and then right again catching her off-guard. I reach over her buggy, grab the bag of chocolate chips scream out (yes I actually did) “YES!!!” and charge to the goal at the end of the aisle. After I cross the end caps of boxed whipped topping

 I turn, raise the chocolate chips over my head and shout “Touchdown!!!” 

A man who had been at the goal line cracks up and tells me “good game!! Well done!!” I smile and head off to the check-out.

The house smells like chocolate chip cookies this morning and we are having pie for breakfast. 

Enjoy your Thanksgiving! 

GOD Saved the Cornbread

I suppose you are wondering how the cornbread saga came out? 

My daughter went and purchased two mixes (this would later prove to be a good thing) and as she glanced over the instructions realized I would need milk so she bought that also. She came home dropped it off along with two surprises. I had already had a meltdown in front of them, apologizing for not being able to get it together and being a terrible mom. By the way, the moment I was losing it my daughter was picking up the slack and reassuring me they could get breakfast and not to worry; which by the way added to the onslaught but also was astounding to watch. I had not seen her be a “grown up” before, at least not like that. 

I started making the cornbread. I measured the milk and cracked the egg into the milk and thought I spied a piece of shell as the egg slipped into the milk. I tried to look for it (white shell, white milk) but no luck. I prayed, that if there was a shell for GOD to do something. I was already fussed up and needed to press on. I mixed the egg, milk, opened the mix and dumped it in. As I did some chunks of brown alien substance were in the mix. I was startled and disgusted and then thanked GOD because I knew there had been eggshell in the milk. I started over, got it in the oven and went off to get ready for my meeting which by now is causing me to be even more fussed up ( my imagination was on hyper-drive). After a while I smelled cake and realized I had forgotten the cornbread and believed it to be burnt. Well, it was not burnt, Thank GOD, but it was very well done and a lovely golden brown.

 I got it to her at work in plenty of time.

As for the surprises, she had bought me flowers and a chocolate coconut doughnut. She was spending money from her first paycheck on me a surprise. It was so sweet.

My meeting went very well and was casual and fun. It did not turn out like my imagination envisioned. I also learned that my friend’s daughter who is playing volley ball like a pro (she is in junior. high) had been noticed by Oakley and they are sending her product to wear. Seems like only a week ago she was an awkward little 7 year old. She is blossoming into an amazing beautiful young woman and I am so honored to know her. Someday she will be the face of Oakley and I can say “I remember when she was just a cute little kid!) Keep playing Canada!!!

I have been doing a little Christmas shopping. I like to be done before Christmas so I can just chill through it and enjoy myself.  Doing this joyful task  has generated no Christmas anxiety or should I say anxiousness so I have watched a few Christmas movies and still nothing. I can see it charging at me like a child who has missed his mother but I am not feeling anything back at him. Christmas is about to embrace me and I am not feeling anything. This is troubling.  Maybe I should start playing Christmas music?  Go ahead and decorate the tree and house.  I am going to go see a Christmas movie with some girlfriends on Thursday maybe that will help.  Maybe I just needed to chat about it I am beginning to feel the first flutter of a Christmas butterfly under my right ribs....hmmmmm..... 

Yep there it is!

Down and Dirty or Cornbread

Down and Dirty is what the truck had blazoned across the back window. What does that mean? The truck was lifted so maybe you need help to get down out of it. The white paint was definitely in need of a wash maybe that was the dirty. Maybe it was slang for I pull stuck vehicles out of the mud. “If you are down in the mud and dirty” call Pete he will pull you out! Maybe he is down for getting dirty. He takes his lifted truck out and then slings through mud creating mire and trashing fields, trails, roads and creek beds.

I got it! They are either a band member or a groupie of the band Down and Dirty.  

No wait they are proud sponsors of Subaru’s Down and Dirty Obstacle Race.

The Dictionary lists it is being lewd, funky, and unscrupulously competitive as in down-and-dirty political campaign. So…. The owner is into politics?

I have a cousin several generations back who married a woman named Cherry Dew. Seriously! I thought it was a typo or someone had been cheeky with a relative’s name. No she is Cherry Dew and she has a sister named Violet Dew. Now you would think the other sisters would be Rose Dew and Lilly Dew with a brother named Juniper Dew right? No they are Sarah, Ruth and Horton. Did the parents not like the other 3 kids? Actually the last name was originally spelled Dhu, but as with people migrating in from across Europe and arriving here and saying their names (and being unable to spell themselves) they were spelled wrong on documents. Of course some changed their names on purpose. 

My daughter informed me this evening at dinner that I had to bake a pan of cornbread for her to take to work tomorrow.  I have no cornmeal or baking powder or eggs I ran out of these things making breakfast this morning. They are on my grocery list. I had scheduled a meeting for 11:30 tomorrow and I have to get client commitments done in the morning so I am buying … shhhh…. Mixes.  

Yes I will be buying cornbread mix and cheating. I will take my early morning hike, dash over to the grocery, grab mixes and get them baked dropping them off on my way to meeting hopefully showering and dressing during that time. I love hitting the ground running. Not really. I used to, but now I like to waltz my way through the morning stopping to smell roses and coffee.

Speaking of morning…. Enjoy yours!

Now off to write a blog for a client for tomorrow. 

Leathered Up Buffoon

Dear people on motorcycles,

Those of us who choose not to ride would like to inform you that we, all of us, did not study nor did we opt in for mind reading classes in High School or college. So your speeding down the road,  weaving in and out of traffic, not signaling your intent to swerve left and then right, doing your little "I am a Jedi Ninja" thing at mach 7 will be met with the same disrespect you are affording us your victims.  

You will be hearing things like "oh, did I change lanes without signaling while you were passing me without signaling??" and "Was that you flying over my car when I had to stop suddenly and you were not paying attention because you had just charged down the interstate weaving through traffic like a Barrel racer on crack." 

You want respect on the road? Then show us some. Sporting a leather jacket does not entitle you to special driving/riding privileges. 

Thank you

For those of you who are now assuming I hate bikes and their riders, NO I do not. I actually spent several years happily hugging my man from the back of his bike. 

What I hate is the disrespect some bikers have toward people in a car. We are not obstacles on some race track of life you need to speed around. We are trying to get somewhere the same as you. And yes, some bloody leathered up buffoon on a bike fussed me up. He caused several vehicles to swerve and slam on their brakes creating a hazard in his wake. You want to play chicken with your life and drag mine into the fray? Good luck! But my Grand Daughter was in the car and you will NOT be dragging her into your self absorbed, ego-boosting joy ride to your destruction. I will end you!!

Have a peace-full joy filled day me Hearties!!

The Zombie Ballerina Clown

My first child's first Halloween, she was 8 months old, I made her a cheerleader costume and took her around to a few houses just for fun and because she looked so cute with her yarn pompoms and little skirt. Everyone loved her until we came upon one woman who said "isn't she a little young and aren't you a little old for trick or treating. You just want candy. Go buy some" and she slammed the door. I was crushed and actually the thought about the candy never crossed my mind in that way. I was just taking my child out and had been turning down the candy. I went home and vowed to never treat a young mom like that nor a small child nor any teenager. It is Halloween!!

In Em's bag of goodies from Halloween last night was a scripture lollipop. 

The cellophane around it had scripture written on it and included a small card with explanation. I thought this was an awesome idea and when she asked what kind of lollipop it was I told her it was a Jesus lollipop and it was to be eaten on a day she was sad so she could be cheered up by knowing Jesus loved her.  Sounds good right? She informed me 10 minutes later that she was sad and needed her Jesus lollipop. She ate half of it and then threw the rest away telling me she was no longer sad and could she eat a Hershey bar from her bag of treats. She is her mothers daughter. 

 My daughter has a Zombie app on her phone. Ems went around the table taking everyone's photo and then turning us all into Zombies with peeling skin, grunts, growls, popped out eyeballs, exposed flesh and bone and blood and laughing. 

            This is the Zombie she created of my photo.

A zombie is what she decided on for Halloween. A ballerina who is a clown who was turned into a Zombie. 

She wanted to be drenched in blood and now this morning there are stripes all down her from her chin to her belly in a vivid shade of pink. Stains from the fake blood. She laughs and finds it funny. 

Today she is running around in pink fangs and a unicorn hat. Is this what happens to Ballerina Zombies after eating candy? Maybe the child ate a unicorn and wears its horn as a trophy!! 

Halloween was always a huge deal in our house. Mom decorated the house in plenty of Halloween themed things, pumpkins, black cats and witches everywhere. She always bought candy in flavors she and my Grandmother enjoyed so they could eat the leftovers. They never tolerated the rude "trick or treat smell my feet" line and refused to give treats to those who said it. Mother took great care in creating us wonderful costumes and the one year I wanted a store bought boxed costume was the worst Halloween of my little life. I was unhappy, looked wretched, could barely walk and could not see out of the mask. I cried the entire time. My dad had to explain to several people why I was so unhappy. Many of them told me I was very cute but I knew I was not and could not wait to get back home and throw the horrid thing away. 

One year my two youngest wanted to be witches so I got them costumes and made myself up as a witch and we went to Mom's house to trick her neighborhood because we lived out in the country.  Mother wanted to partake in the fun so we put together a witch costume for her as well and we all went out. Mom had more fun I think than the rest of us. 

Halloween is the Best Holiday.

On another note....

My Grand daughter is watching a TV show called Daniel Tiger a production by the Mr. Roger Neighborhood people. The lesson is about Babysitting and that grown-ups come back. I have found myself extremely fussed up over this recurring theme which has carried on to the next episode because, grown-ups sometimes don't  come back. Why would a child's program say this and teach this when the truth is sometimes they just don't come back? A parent can die either by illness or accident or malicious intent. They say good-bye and kiss their child and go off to work or a trip or to the store and never come back. Sometimes they go out and find a new wife and make a new family and never come back. Sometimes they do something horrible and go to prison and never come back. Sometimes they decide drugs are their family and after years of abusing and neglecting, stealing from and lying to their family they never come back. Dear Daniel Tiger the truth is grown-ups do NOT always come back, and sometimes Daniel, it is a good thing. 

What was nice about the show is after the animated Daniel has an adventure they show a real child going through the same situation. A day at school, doctor appointment, babysitter.... you know child challenges. 

Now what is my little Zombie up to she is bring very quiet.