So.....

It's my birthday.

woop woop.

Don't PFFT me!

Ok.. I changed the URL... again.

I'm sorry if anyone got lost. I've been sending out change notices and (raising hand in oath) I promise to stay put this time.

NO! I really do.

Really.

Blogging Thru the Neighborhood

I was out-and-about link hopping on blogs and came across a couple of men with Blogs.

One guy had 112 links on his sidebar. Every single one was about sex. (You can tell they are sexual by the titles like: "My life as a call girl," and "I'm a lusty wife," and similar titles.

Another guy had 102 links on his sidebar. They were all sexual too.

100 sexual links. Oddly enough... or perhaps not oddly enough.... the men were unhappy with their (married) sex life.

Make of that what you will.

Danger Cook

I am not sure how it happened and neither is my sis and her family. They remarked at how weird it is that they came to my house for Thanksgiving. I mean c'mon, after all the thanking is said, Thanksgiving is all about the food right? And food and my house? Well, normally the two have nothing in common.

Would you go to a house where cooking skills are (at best) labeled 'dubious?' Not me. I'd plead a case of Bird Flu and stay home.

And yet they arrived anyway, ready to eat. le sigh... Such is trust. and... such is pressure!

I decided to cook two birds instead of one. Which to me only means twice the chance of disaster. I know..... I'm a risk taker.

So, with 9 people eating, that also meant two pans of cornbread dressing (from scratch); two pans of Sweet Potato Souffle (from scratch); one large offering of mash potatos (from real potatos); String bean casserole (that I can't stand); a ham; deviled eggs; pumpkin bread; pies; biscuits; mushroom gravy; giblet gravy; ... the element of danger increased 10 fold.

And then the chance of danger doubled. Again.

Seems niece and her race car driver boyfriend are vegetarians. OMG. That meant no eating turkey. No eating ham. No eating dressing cause it has turkey stock in it. No eating beans, unless they pick out the pieces of ham. Oy.

Dinner now had the real chance of being awarded the biggest yuk in family history. And remembering my mother's cooking, that would be one hell of an award to win.

But look! People with forks, travelling to mouths. And no one running from the table. Plates were cleaned, and 2nds were dished out. SECONDS people!

I so kicked Thanksgiving ass!

A Cornucopia of Wishes

May you and your family be blessed with a cornucopia of blessings today and always.

I want...

I'm in that mood again. The 'I want' mood.

It starts out simple enough as a daydream. You know the "wouldn't it be nice to....". Then it morphs into "hmmm, I wonder if...." and before you know it I've developed some scathingly brilliant idea that I'm going to do "IT!"

The dPOD (darlin Pool of Doom once known as the damn Pool of Doom) started out like that. Nevermind I didn't actually own my house at the time, I wanted a pool. All that cart-before-the-horse way of thinking seems to work for me since I ended up being able to buy the house and have a pool built last year.

And now it's a beach house or condo I want. It's what I've always wanted. The thought is in the severe daydreaming stage now. I recognize all the signs. Thinking about the beach. Thinking of ways I could afford it. Thinking of days spent wandering along the waters edge looking for sharks teeth, or painting out by the ocean. Thinking how nice it would be to spend my vacation time there. Retiring there one day and having the kids or future grandkids (eek!) spend summers there with me. le sigh.

Nevermind that half the time I wonder how I manage to afford the gas, power, food, mortgage, insurance, car, phone, cell phone, cable, kids, internet and all the other miscellaneous bills that come in each and every month. It really makes no sense that as a single mom I can do that even with 2 jobs .... but still....

Now, I want a house at the beach. Maybe in 10 years I will read this entry from that house... who knows, stranger things have happened.

Food Talk

It's that time of year again. My annual foray into cooking. I manage, much to the delight of my family, not to cook 360 days of the year. I will occasionally fix soup. To say that cooking is so not my forte is an understatement. They learned this early on and normally they let me off the hook.

But they put their collective feet down at Thanksgiving. "You will cook." they demand. And not only am I forced to cook but I have to fix the dishes that have become a tradition in their lives. Nevermind that the dishes are those that their 'born to cook southern Grandmother' makes ... and that I am the daughter of a transplanted yankee, who's idea of a tasty dinner was to toss a chicken in a pan, turn on the oven, open a box of frozen peas into boiling water and call it tasty... Bless her heart.

Nope. It doesn't matter that I did not descend from a great cooking family. Their father did, and therefore they got recipes for me from their southern Grandmother.

Recipes? Oh please. The woman never wrote, much less read a recipe in her life. She cooks by sight and sound. "You know those sweet potatoes just don't sound right, " she said one year. They sounded fine to me, mute.... but then I never had a close rapport with veggies, so what did I know. Over the years I've used the same recipes and added my own touches when I could. Some instructions that originally read "add brown sugar til they look right," have been replaced by the instructions "add 2 cups." It's helped. Trust me.

This year not only will I have to struggle through the old southern recipes again for the kids, but my sister and her family of 4 will be having Thanksgiving dinner with us too. That means double everything. Hmmm, I wonder... if I double the amounts listed on the recipes will the sweet potatoes talk louder? Or better yet, maybe they'll talk and give me hints on how to make the dressing.

So yes, I will cook again this year as ordered and heaven help any of them that don't sit down at the dinner table, fill their plates, eat til they fall out of their chairs, and then climb back up and ask for more.

Thanksgiving is in 2 days. I guess I should buy a turkey or two soon.

My family is so gonna owe me.

Idle Hands Are The HTML Devil's Workshop

Hello. My name is Sie and I'm an HTML addict.

I also don't know what the fuck I am doing. (I'm not on AOL therefore I can say the "F" word.)

I just spent 5 hours screwing with the template.

I still can't get the comment on the archive pages to show up in a different font. However, I did add a new border.... tho don't ask me how.

I have way too much time on my hands. I think I need a man. Or a life. Or both.

Ya think?!

Sundays... So much better than Mondays

It's wonderfully cold and cloudy today...

Just what a Sunday needs.

I can lay abed without the guilt.

Oh sure, the kitchen probably needs cleaning; but I managed to walk through it with blinders on the way to get my coffee, so it's all good.

I love cloudy Sundays. I can be lazy without the guilt.

Yep, lazy seems to be my forte.

But Baby it's cold outside

It's 27 degrees here this morning.

And where the hell are my winter clothes? I must have some somewhere.

I mean, I got up and went to work last winter and the winter before, and I know I wore something....

I know this because naked is really NOT a good look on me.

I'm home!

Welcome to my new secondary home. I am going to painstakingly move 1 year of journaling here. So bear with me. There won't be any new posts for a while until I am finished.

Good thing I use Photobucket to store my pictures.

I understand that you can list your journals with BlogLines and get updates on new entries. And you can sign up with http://www.changenotes.com/tell.php that will e-mail you alerts daily on the blogs you set up to watch. That way you don't miss your favorite authors. A big thank you to Kraztweety2 for this new info.

Now.... To learn some fancy (or any) HTML language and decorate the Summer home I have here...

Save Me

Well the twins did it, the little ba**ards. Nevermind that it would drop kick their mother further into old age. They went ahead and did it anyway.

They turned 20 on Saturday. I mean how rude. 20 years old! Now when I meet some guy that smiles at me and then says he's 28... all I can think about is OMG my kids are his age, and that I have shoes older than they are... Kinda ruins the whole fantasy thing I could have going.

Now I have to find a 30 something. No wait... I can't do that either. My best friend has a son who is 32 and came to give me a quote for some stairs off my deck.... I've known him since he was a kid, he's still a kid! Let's just say I was having to chant his moms name in my head to keep myself on track.

When he left, I did however call her and asked 'when the hell did your son turn hunky. ' She laughed (fortunately really good friends can do that) and said it hit her the same way the other day.... AND that he was now dating her hairdresser who was 41. Hey... I'm not that far away from 41....

Naw.. she'd kill me. So.. 20 somethings are out... 30 somethings are out... which leaves 40 somethings.... And 40 somethings are generally looking for 20 somethings.... of which I am not. But if I were 20 something, I'd want a 30 something.... and we already know how well that goes over...

Where was I... normally I have a point, but I lost it.

Damn kids, I think they've shoved me into celebate senility.

I Love Dust

Last year I posted pictures of my tea pot collection.



I still enjoy collecting them and they're still all over my house. Although now I only buy the teapots that I find are really different or insanely cute.




But now, I've given into another weakness. Plates.... as in dishes plates .

I've always ooh and ahhed over some of the cutest sets in stores, but took a deep breath and passed them by. I mean really; how many sets of dishes does one person need? Buying a service 0f 8 everytime I see a set I like would just be, well stupid. And expensive. Not to mention I quit throwing things a long time ago.... And then... I got those plate racks from Freecycle. A perfect excuse to go plate shopping.

And look! There are still two spaces still open. I think another addiction has been acquired. How many plates and plate racks are allowed before it becomes weird, or tacky?




Hopefully I'll stop before my house ends up looking like a thrift store.

Or then again....maybe not.

I Spy.. EEK A Mouse

Seems I have a little mouse reading my journal.

Yep, college boy has been checking up on mom through her journal. Oh boy. I figure I have a few choices.... I'd could go private; quit writing; start a new journal with a new name and tell them I don't have one;

OR.....

I could start talking about sex and wait to hear about how he ran screaming from the dorm room holding his eyes, stumbling blind and incoherent into the arms of therapy. Hmmm... Decisions. Decisions.

Party Pagan

This year my neighbors put on an even bigger haunted house. Now you know why it costs me $60 in candy.Of course I could close my door and turn off the lights like some of our other neighbors do....but what fun is that?!

So I just hit the grocery store early, stock up on candy and wait for the crowds to appear. And they do. For 3 hours straight.Tell me those Mormons don't know how to party pagan!