Hi Everybody.!!!
Thanks so much for following my blog of short stories. I decided to change the name and the blog site to make it a bit easier to follow. Please take a moment and go to www.nansiidowner.blogspot.com and sign up to follow me there.
Thanks to all of you for your words of encouragement. Your input means the world to me.
There are new posts there as well as the classics. See you there.
Nansii
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Getting Jiggly with my Bad Self
This past year I incorporated working out with my morning routine. Let's be very clear here though. My morning routine would not likely have been considered healthy by most. After several cups of coffee, you know, the strong, put hair on your chest stuff, my exercise consisted of opening the back door to let my dogs out. If I was really feeling energetic, I might even stroll out to the back porch and gently toss the ball around for my dog. So when I got this wild idea that a little exercise might do me some good, it was a real ground shaker in my house. It's not like they doubted that I would do it, but hey, they know me. Sitting quietly is more my speed.
I must admit, it took quite a bit of time to create poetry in motion but I do believe that I have a handle on it now. My Wii Mii and I can change it up with the best of them. Kick boxing? Yeah, we do it. Yoga? Oh my. Look at that perfect posture. Step dancing? Ha! We could be on "So you think you can Dance". We are good I tell ya. Dang good. Once that music starts playing wii are one with it. That balance board has nothing on us. Floating like a butterfly. Yep that's us. I was feeling so confident that I decided to add a little spice to the workout. You know. Keep it fresh. Keep it alive. I was an old hand at this now. There was nothing I couldn't do.
Until I decided to try the Hula Hoops. Who's idea was it to put that in the program. This was supposed to be a fun way to get in shape. What's a little sweat between friends right? This should have been a easy thing for my Wii Mii and I. But NOOOOOO !!!! I am saddened and ashamed to report that we are sorely missing the mark in this little exercise of wit. And it is all my shii mii's fault. She has no rhythm.
Once the music starts you twirl your hips while keeping the Hula Hoop spinning. Oh it sounds easy enough doesn't it. Once you get them babies twirling some other Mii in the corner of the screen ( and I think I know who it is) tosses another hoop to you. Now you must catch it while still twirling the other hoop. Not bad? Try another.......and another. The tossers never miss a beat while I frantically try and remember which way to twirl so I don't lose any points. I AM all about winning you know. This is usually about the time that I am making some incredible growling type sounds so both dogs come in the room to see what is happening and start to bark at me, thinking that I must be growling at the bad guy. Next in comes my husband. He just stands there staring. What can he say after all. I am frantically twirling invisible hoops and cursing under my breath, regarding the DNA that my father must have passed me that is causing me to have to exercise in the first place. I have sweat running down my cheeks and my Wii Mii looks fresh as a daisy. Is there no justice? This just doesn't seem fair.
We all know that I am all about the fair so after I caught my breath from the invigorating workout I grabbed another cup of coffee, sat down at the table, and thought about how I might even things up a bit. Shii doesn't sweat. Shii never even looks ruffled after a 30 minute workout. Shii eats what shii wants when shii wants and only changes weight when I do. Huh. Something is just not right here. I leer at her over the lip of my coffee cup. Thinking, thinking. I've got it!!!! I'll show her a thing or two. I will beat her at her own game.
I must have had a really scary look on my face because my husband walked by and stopped and just kind of looked at me. And then he quietly walked away shaking his head wondering what in the world I could be up to. I rose from the table and walked back to the remote. I knew what I had to do. It just was not working having her look better than me. So I took off her eye makeup. That showed her a thing or two.
I must admit, it took quite a bit of time to create poetry in motion but I do believe that I have a handle on it now. My Wii Mii and I can change it up with the best of them. Kick boxing? Yeah, we do it. Yoga? Oh my. Look at that perfect posture. Step dancing? Ha! We could be on "So you think you can Dance". We are good I tell ya. Dang good. Once that music starts playing wii are one with it. That balance board has nothing on us. Floating like a butterfly. Yep that's us. I was feeling so confident that I decided to add a little spice to the workout. You know. Keep it fresh. Keep it alive. I was an old hand at this now. There was nothing I couldn't do.
Until I decided to try the Hula Hoops. Who's idea was it to put that in the program. This was supposed to be a fun way to get in shape. What's a little sweat between friends right? This should have been a easy thing for my Wii Mii and I. But NOOOOOO !!!! I am saddened and ashamed to report that we are sorely missing the mark in this little exercise of wit. And it is all my shii mii's fault. She has no rhythm.
Once the music starts you twirl your hips while keeping the Hula Hoop spinning. Oh it sounds easy enough doesn't it. Once you get them babies twirling some other Mii in the corner of the screen ( and I think I know who it is) tosses another hoop to you. Now you must catch it while still twirling the other hoop. Not bad? Try another.......and another. The tossers never miss a beat while I frantically try and remember which way to twirl so I don't lose any points. I AM all about winning you know. This is usually about the time that I am making some incredible growling type sounds so both dogs come in the room to see what is happening and start to bark at me, thinking that I must be growling at the bad guy. Next in comes my husband. He just stands there staring. What can he say after all. I am frantically twirling invisible hoops and cursing under my breath, regarding the DNA that my father must have passed me that is causing me to have to exercise in the first place. I have sweat running down my cheeks and my Wii Mii looks fresh as a daisy. Is there no justice? This just doesn't seem fair.
We all know that I am all about the fair so after I caught my breath from the invigorating workout I grabbed another cup of coffee, sat down at the table, and thought about how I might even things up a bit. Shii doesn't sweat. Shii never even looks ruffled after a 30 minute workout. Shii eats what shii wants when shii wants and only changes weight when I do. Huh. Something is just not right here. I leer at her over the lip of my coffee cup. Thinking, thinking. I've got it!!!! I'll show her a thing or two. I will beat her at her own game.
I must have had a really scary look on my face because my husband walked by and stopped and just kind of looked at me. And then he quietly walked away shaking his head wondering what in the world I could be up to. I rose from the table and walked back to the remote. I knew what I had to do. It just was not working having her look better than me. So I took off her eye makeup. That showed her a thing or two.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Red Red Whine
I have often wondered, who is it that makes the decisions on what we should and shouldn't wear. Haven't you? Is it some high class diamond dripping vamp sitting at her desk on the 50th floor of a downtown New York city office? Could it be the never a hair out of place Donald type guy who marries only the best dressed women in the world? Is the cheesy looking guy that stops at the coffee house each morning and sits and pours over the latest magazines????? Come on.....aren't you the least bit curious to know who it is that sets these fashion trends in place? Well search no more. I have the answer and I am willing to share this timely secret with you. It's my Mom and her best friend.
They are without a doubt the fashionistas of their town. The women in Wichita Falls would be running around stark naked if it wasn't for their keen eye to the latest fashion "Ins" and "Outs". It is amazing to watch them in action. The sales clerks tremble when they see them walk into their shops. These women are known around town I tell you. They can "make" or "break" a shop. I am sure that they must be inundated daily with emails and calls from around the world seeking their advise on fabric trends, skirt lengths and of course color. If you want to know what is hot or what is not, these two fine ladies are there for the asking. Even if you really don't want to hear the answer.
Winter is a special time for me. I enjoy the sights and sounds. The baking and gift wrapping. The holiday sweaters that just seem to scream to be worn joyfully. As mom would always say "Red is such a bold wonderful color. Use it to your advantage. It commands respect". Since a good dose of respect is something I always like my fellow man to give me, I set my sights, and heart on something new.....something bold.....something that I have ever owned before......red pants. Yep. I tell her that I am going to buy a pair of red jeans or red dress pants. It was a lovely day. Both of us enjoying a fresh cup of her delicious coffee. Mother and daughter sharing quality time together at her dining room table, with Christmas music playing softly in the background. It just doesn't get much better than that. Until I mentioned the red pants.
With every ounce of finesse she has, she gingerly sets her cup on the table, looks at me lovingly and says "Really ?????" I don't know about any of you but when my Mom says "really" like that, it usually means something more like "Have you totally lost your mind????!!!!" I slowly set my cup down and wait. And wait. Eventually she will spill it. They always do. Even when you have given birth to their grandchildren, they will ALWAYS be Mom. Good sound solid advise is never more than a phone call away right? Just ask me. I am a mother too. I know how this works.
Ever so gently she clears her throat and begins. "Dear" she begins, "There are certain things that women of our, (cough cough), size should not wear. One of those items is red pants. Trust me. You don't want to do this. Red should only be worn above the waist. When you are leaving a room, in red pants, you will look like a Christmas ornament. A very BIG Christmas ornament". I blinked twice to cover my amazement. An ornament????? A big ornament at that. She must be wrong on this one. Her fashion sense must have had a momentary lapse. I wanted red pants....by gosh I HAD to have red pants. All of a sudden the thought of not having red pants was almost too much to bare. But, the good daughter that I am, I sighed and thanked her for her wonderful forethought on this issue and let the subject drop.
We arrived home on Sunday afternoon and the next day I had my husband promptly take me to the mall. I was going to show her alright. I was going to go to every store that was in that mall until I found them and owned them. Red pants. I was on a mission. The holidays were still upon us so they shouldn't be too hard to find. In my mind, every store in the mall should be stocked to the rafters with red pants. I would visit every store if that is what it took. Time stood still as we made our way around the mall.
Finally, we came to a shop that caters to petite sized women. Remember???? That's what I am....petite. So in I go, shoulders squared, head held high straight to the first sales lady I see. Of course they have red pants she assures me. We travel to the rack and what do my eyes behold but pair after pair of red pants. And believe it or not, all of the skinny girls had already been there but left plenty of "my" sizes. From 12 up to 18 there were dozens of them. It was a bounty. I grabbed a pair, told my husband to have a seat and dashed into the dressing room. There is no way to express the bliss of knowing that in a few short minutes I was going to be floating out of the store with my new red pants. I pulled them on, and twirled around to get a mirrored view. I pranced out of the room and practically danced in front of my husband anxiously waiting for him to tell me how great they looked. But then I noticed it. The raised eyebrow. The one that speaks volumes without saying a word. "Turn around" he whispered. I do so. And I wait.....and wait. I turn back around and see that he is standing up ready to go. He says one word and one word only "Ornament".
I called my Mom a few days later and in passing mentioned my little shopping excursion. I could see her smiling though the phone, but she never uttered the words "I told you so". She didn't have to. After all, I'm a Mom too. I just shoulda known.
They are without a doubt the fashionistas of their town. The women in Wichita Falls would be running around stark naked if it wasn't for their keen eye to the latest fashion "Ins" and "Outs". It is amazing to watch them in action. The sales clerks tremble when they see them walk into their shops. These women are known around town I tell you. They can "make" or "break" a shop. I am sure that they must be inundated daily with emails and calls from around the world seeking their advise on fabric trends, skirt lengths and of course color. If you want to know what is hot or what is not, these two fine ladies are there for the asking. Even if you really don't want to hear the answer.
Winter is a special time for me. I enjoy the sights and sounds. The baking and gift wrapping. The holiday sweaters that just seem to scream to be worn joyfully. As mom would always say "Red is such a bold wonderful color. Use it to your advantage. It commands respect". Since a good dose of respect is something I always like my fellow man to give me, I set my sights, and heart on something new.....something bold.....something that I have ever owned before......red pants. Yep. I tell her that I am going to buy a pair of red jeans or red dress pants. It was a lovely day. Both of us enjoying a fresh cup of her delicious coffee. Mother and daughter sharing quality time together at her dining room table, with Christmas music playing softly in the background. It just doesn't get much better than that. Until I mentioned the red pants.
With every ounce of finesse she has, she gingerly sets her cup on the table, looks at me lovingly and says "Really ?????" I don't know about any of you but when my Mom says "really" like that, it usually means something more like "Have you totally lost your mind????!!!!" I slowly set my cup down and wait. And wait. Eventually she will spill it. They always do. Even when you have given birth to their grandchildren, they will ALWAYS be Mom. Good sound solid advise is never more than a phone call away right? Just ask me. I am a mother too. I know how this works.
Ever so gently she clears her throat and begins. "Dear" she begins, "There are certain things that women of our, (cough cough), size should not wear. One of those items is red pants. Trust me. You don't want to do this. Red should only be worn above the waist. When you are leaving a room, in red pants, you will look like a Christmas ornament. A very BIG Christmas ornament". I blinked twice to cover my amazement. An ornament????? A big ornament at that. She must be wrong on this one. Her fashion sense must have had a momentary lapse. I wanted red pants....by gosh I HAD to have red pants. All of a sudden the thought of not having red pants was almost too much to bare. But, the good daughter that I am, I sighed and thanked her for her wonderful forethought on this issue and let the subject drop.
We arrived home on Sunday afternoon and the next day I had my husband promptly take me to the mall. I was going to show her alright. I was going to go to every store that was in that mall until I found them and owned them. Red pants. I was on a mission. The holidays were still upon us so they shouldn't be too hard to find. In my mind, every store in the mall should be stocked to the rafters with red pants. I would visit every store if that is what it took. Time stood still as we made our way around the mall.
Finally, we came to a shop that caters to petite sized women. Remember???? That's what I am....petite. So in I go, shoulders squared, head held high straight to the first sales lady I see. Of course they have red pants she assures me. We travel to the rack and what do my eyes behold but pair after pair of red pants. And believe it or not, all of the skinny girls had already been there but left plenty of "my" sizes. From 12 up to 18 there were dozens of them. It was a bounty. I grabbed a pair, told my husband to have a seat and dashed into the dressing room. There is no way to express the bliss of knowing that in a few short minutes I was going to be floating out of the store with my new red pants. I pulled them on, and twirled around to get a mirrored view. I pranced out of the room and practically danced in front of my husband anxiously waiting for him to tell me how great they looked. But then I noticed it. The raised eyebrow. The one that speaks volumes without saying a word. "Turn around" he whispered. I do so. And I wait.....and wait. I turn back around and see that he is standing up ready to go. He says one word and one word only "Ornament".
I called my Mom a few days later and in passing mentioned my little shopping excursion. I could see her smiling though the phone, but she never uttered the words "I told you so". She didn't have to. After all, I'm a Mom too. I just shoulda known.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Blizzard of Aught Nine
Oh yes. I was there. I will be able to tell my grandchildren all about the storm that took the town by surprise. Wichita Falls Texas has indeed made a name for itself. You thought they got a lot of publicity when the Cowboys decided to train there? Well, that was nothing my friend. Nothing compared to the stories that will regale about the Blizzard of Aught Nine.
Bryan, Jaymes, the 2 dogs and I arrived by suppertime the night before Christmas Eve. We parked the car on the grass in the folks backyard and unloaded our gift laden Toyota. Since other family members were joining us for the holiday, we readily agreed to sleep in the travel trailer parked in the yard in it's custom made carport. It gives us plenty of room to move around and the privacy and quiet that we sometimes crave when there are lots of people around. Besides that, I prefer not EVERYone see me in the morning. It's hard enough on my husband, son and dogs.
By nature, I think that's what the cause is, I am an early riser. Usually, no later than around 5:30 a.m. I have the coffee going and am getting ready to let the dogs go out. This morning would be no different. At least where the time was concerned. When I opened the trailer door it was raining pretty hard. So I caught the dogs and we all agreed that we would wait awhile before stepping out to do our business. I crawled back into bed and snuggled down to catch a few more winks. After all, this was vacation right?
When my eyes opened again, I was shocked to see that I had slept in. Me! Sleeping past 8???? "My goodness" I thought as I once again prepared to take the dogs out, "I must have really needed the extra rest". From the quiet, I could tell that the rain had finally let up so I went ahead and opened the door for the dogs. I now have a PRETTY good idea what the term "The first step is a doosey" means. It seems that while I was nestled all snug in my bed, old man winter had decided to drop an inch of snow !!!!!!! That first metal step out of the trailer dang near landed me in the hospital. As I drug myself back inside, I took one last look towards the house. The path was a slushy icy mess. What were we going to do???? We only had enough good water for one pot of coffee and I could polish that off by myself. Our other staples consisted of the thawing turkey and the extra orange juice. All of the delicious cookies and candies and fudge that I made for this wonderful gathering, were inside the house with those other family members. We were doomed.
So I did what any red blooded American would do in a crisis situation. I reached for my cell phone and called my mom, who was of course staying in the house, with those other family members. She answers the phone in her most preciously calm yet chipper voice "Good morning sweetheart. Did you sleep well?". I am appalled. "Did I sleep well????" I choke out in reply. "Have ya even looked out your dad-gum back door and noticed that SOME of your family is snowed in, without food or water?" I so wanted to say, but didn't. "Mom, maybe you should open the sliding glass curtains and take a look outside", I coo instead. "Oh my" she says quietly, "When did it start to snow.....oh look kids.....it's snowing.....come and see......what did you say dear?"
Finally, after putting on every article of clothing that we brought, the three of us slip, slide and slush our way, what seems like a mile and a half, to the back door with our snowy wet dogs on our heels. And for the next 12 hours the snow keeps coming and coming and coming. Would it never stop we cried. It was like there was a little energizer snowman huffing and puffing from the clouds. Our car was buried in the backyard. The carport over the trailer looked like it could collapse at anytime. My dad decided he should test the roads and go to the market. I was sitting in the recliner the whole time, and I swear I didn't know that they were stuck in the street half in and half out of the driveway, until I heard the neighbor talking to them about giving them a push. Bryan says I need to pay more attention to things like that. I say, "Don't try to drive in the snow ".
When the blowing wind and snow finally stopped, we all sighed in relief. The crisis was over. We were all safe and sound and could now stop worrying. But then I thought back on our previous night. We had made popcorn and watched "The Christmas Story" and laughed like crazy. Together. We had spent Christmas morning eating a great breakfast, opening presents and preparing the turkey and all of the fixings. Together. We watched football, played cards and ate every smidgen of the fudge I brought. Together. I guess it doesn't really sound so bad after all does it? You know how we Texans are.....we always have to have a great story to retell to the kids. And this will be mine.
Bryan, Jaymes, the 2 dogs and I arrived by suppertime the night before Christmas Eve. We parked the car on the grass in the folks backyard and unloaded our gift laden Toyota. Since other family members were joining us for the holiday, we readily agreed to sleep in the travel trailer parked in the yard in it's custom made carport. It gives us plenty of room to move around and the privacy and quiet that we sometimes crave when there are lots of people around. Besides that, I prefer not EVERYone see me in the morning. It's hard enough on my husband, son and dogs.
By nature, I think that's what the cause is, I am an early riser. Usually, no later than around 5:30 a.m. I have the coffee going and am getting ready to let the dogs go out. This morning would be no different. At least where the time was concerned. When I opened the trailer door it was raining pretty hard. So I caught the dogs and we all agreed that we would wait awhile before stepping out to do our business. I crawled back into bed and snuggled down to catch a few more winks. After all, this was vacation right?
When my eyes opened again, I was shocked to see that I had slept in. Me! Sleeping past 8???? "My goodness" I thought as I once again prepared to take the dogs out, "I must have really needed the extra rest". From the quiet, I could tell that the rain had finally let up so I went ahead and opened the door for the dogs. I now have a PRETTY good idea what the term "The first step is a doosey" means. It seems that while I was nestled all snug in my bed, old man winter had decided to drop an inch of snow !!!!!!! That first metal step out of the trailer dang near landed me in the hospital. As I drug myself back inside, I took one last look towards the house. The path was a slushy icy mess. What were we going to do???? We only had enough good water for one pot of coffee and I could polish that off by myself. Our other staples consisted of the thawing turkey and the extra orange juice. All of the delicious cookies and candies and fudge that I made for this wonderful gathering, were inside the house with those other family members. We were doomed.
So I did what any red blooded American would do in a crisis situation. I reached for my cell phone and called my mom, who was of course staying in the house, with those other family members. She answers the phone in her most preciously calm yet chipper voice "Good morning sweetheart. Did you sleep well?". I am appalled. "Did I sleep well????" I choke out in reply. "Have ya even looked out your dad-gum back door and noticed that SOME of your family is snowed in, without food or water?" I so wanted to say, but didn't. "Mom, maybe you should open the sliding glass curtains and take a look outside", I coo instead. "Oh my" she says quietly, "When did it start to snow.....oh look kids.....it's snowing.....come and see......what did you say dear?"
Finally, after putting on every article of clothing that we brought, the three of us slip, slide and slush our way, what seems like a mile and a half, to the back door with our snowy wet dogs on our heels. And for the next 12 hours the snow keeps coming and coming and coming. Would it never stop we cried. It was like there was a little energizer snowman huffing and puffing from the clouds. Our car was buried in the backyard. The carport over the trailer looked like it could collapse at anytime. My dad decided he should test the roads and go to the market. I was sitting in the recliner the whole time, and I swear I didn't know that they were stuck in the street half in and half out of the driveway, until I heard the neighbor talking to them about giving them a push. Bryan says I need to pay more attention to things like that. I say, "Don't try to drive in the snow ".
When the blowing wind and snow finally stopped, we all sighed in relief. The crisis was over. We were all safe and sound and could now stop worrying. But then I thought back on our previous night. We had made popcorn and watched "The Christmas Story" and laughed like crazy. Together. We had spent Christmas morning eating a great breakfast, opening presents and preparing the turkey and all of the fixings. Together. We watched football, played cards and ate every smidgen of the fudge I brought. Together. I guess it doesn't really sound so bad after all does it? You know how we Texans are.....we always have to have a great story to retell to the kids. And this will be mine.
Twas the Weak Before Christmas
Twas the "weak" before Christmas
And out on my porch
I was watching intently
For the "Ups" man of course.
The stockings were hung
On the old family hutch
With no fireplace for us
This will work in a clutch.
With me in my apron
Just baking away
The cookies and breads
For our big family day.
The presents were wrapped
With the ribbon and bows
The music was playing
Ahh yes, it's my zone.
Then all of a sudden,
my dogs start to chatter.
I rose from my chair
To see what was the matter.
I ran to the parlor,
Threw open the door.
I knew he was coming
Who the present was for.
Then what to my wandering eyes
Did I see?
That big old brown truck
He was parked by my tree.
I jumped off the porch
And I ran to his side
I signed my John Hancock
And my smile did not hide.
He might have worn brown
And his tummy didn't jiggle.
But I knew in my heart
He was really Kris Kringle.
I carefully carried
the box with such glee.
And put it down gently,
cause this one's for me!!
I turned and I waved
And I bid him adieu
I knew in my heart,
He had plenty to do.
Yet I heard him exclaim
as he drove down my road.
"Merry Christmas to all,
I have finished my load".
And out on my porch
I was watching intently
For the "Ups" man of course.
The stockings were hung
On the old family hutch
With no fireplace for us
This will work in a clutch.
With me in my apron
Just baking away
The cookies and breads
For our big family day.
The presents were wrapped
With the ribbon and bows
The music was playing
Ahh yes, it's my zone.
Then all of a sudden,
my dogs start to chatter.
I rose from my chair
To see what was the matter.
I ran to the parlor,
Threw open the door.
I knew he was coming
Who the present was for.
Then what to my wandering eyes
Did I see?
That big old brown truck
He was parked by my tree.
I jumped off the porch
And I ran to his side
I signed my John Hancock
And my smile did not hide.
He might have worn brown
And his tummy didn't jiggle.
But I knew in my heart
He was really Kris Kringle.
I carefully carried
the box with such glee.
And put it down gently,
cause this one's for me!!
I turned and I waved
And I bid him adieu
I knew in my heart,
He had plenty to do.
Yet I heard him exclaim
as he drove down my road.
"Merry Christmas to all,
I have finished my load".
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Livin' Velvetta Loco
Saaaayyyy Cheese !!!! It's such a cute little way to make you smile for a photo op. Everyone says it. No matter where you travel in the world, when someone says those magic words "Say cheese" everybody turns to the camera and displays their pearly whites. I bet you can't think of one professional photographer who doesn't pull this little verbiage out of his pocket when he is trying to get that "just so perfect" picture. Big smiles for all. I mean, after all, who doesn't like cheese?
As a young mother, I found that I could pretty much put a slice of this delectable stuff in a sandwich and my kids would scarf it down. Want them to eat their broccoli? Melt some of it over the steaming hot vegetable and it is gone in seconds. Sprinkle it from a jar and make your plain old spaghetti the hit of the night. Burgers, french fries, even salads have been adorned with this wonder of all wonders. Appetizers of fried cheese are on menus accompanied with marinara sauce for dipping. Toasted cheese sandwiches with a hot bowl of soup. Huge baked potatoes with melted cheese dripping down the sides with another favorite. Butter. Ahh the wonderful memories of it all.
My mom always makes this awesomely wonderful Asparagus Casserole for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It is baked to a perfect done-ness and then at the last minute she takes the cover off and lets the cheese get this golden crispy brown. It is to die for. The recipe calls for the juice from the cans of asparagus being stirred and heated with a jar of the Cheese Whiz for the sauce. Then you dice up 1/2 a dozen hard boiled eggs and a bunch of saltine crackers smashed ever so fine and layer it all in a baking dish. Can't ya just FEEL your arteries clogging up as you read this???? I know now why it only gets made at the holidays. We would all be wearing pacemakers from the heart attacks if she made it more.
I sometimes ask myself "when did the change happen to me"? You know. At what point did the "I can eat whatever I want and never put on a pound" change to "Oh my gosh.....those pants are WHAT size?" This shouldn't happen to anyone. How I am suppose to convince my children to eat their cheese-laden broccoli spears when I am forced to look them in the eye and tell them "well, I am watching my weight so I can't have cheese". I mean come on !!!! As a mother it is my responsibility to teach by example right? After all, when we decided to have children we made a commitment to them. To teach them, show them, and that's right, eat the same things that we want them to eat. It's my job. I should EAT the cheesy gooey yummy broccoli to show them how it is done. Right? Right? RIGHT?
These last few months, Mii and my Wii have been paying attention to the little things. You know. The calories. Now I am not saying that I never eat cheese anymore. No, no, no. But I do try to eat it less often. It's kind of like a trade off. I don't consume too much cheese and my hips feel better in the morning. It's not really so bad. With the children grown and living on their own now, the pressure to set a good example at the dinner table has been averted. We now add just a smidgen of seasoned salt to our veggies for that "oh.....so almost good" flavor. After all. We are adults. We don't need to cover up the wholesome natural flavor of our vegetables anymore right? We can handle the taste of any ol' steamed vegetable and at least LOOK like we're enjoying it naked. What's that honey? The grand-kids are coming to spend the night with us? Wooo Hooo! Break out the Cheese Whiz and buttered popcorn. I feel a good example coming on.
As a young mother, I found that I could pretty much put a slice of this delectable stuff in a sandwich and my kids would scarf it down. Want them to eat their broccoli? Melt some of it over the steaming hot vegetable and it is gone in seconds. Sprinkle it from a jar and make your plain old spaghetti the hit of the night. Burgers, french fries, even salads have been adorned with this wonder of all wonders. Appetizers of fried cheese are on menus accompanied with marinara sauce for dipping. Toasted cheese sandwiches with a hot bowl of soup. Huge baked potatoes with melted cheese dripping down the sides with another favorite. Butter. Ahh the wonderful memories of it all.
My mom always makes this awesomely wonderful Asparagus Casserole for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It is baked to a perfect done-ness and then at the last minute she takes the cover off and lets the cheese get this golden crispy brown. It is to die for. The recipe calls for the juice from the cans of asparagus being stirred and heated with a jar of the Cheese Whiz for the sauce. Then you dice up 1/2 a dozen hard boiled eggs and a bunch of saltine crackers smashed ever so fine and layer it all in a baking dish. Can't ya just FEEL your arteries clogging up as you read this???? I know now why it only gets made at the holidays. We would all be wearing pacemakers from the heart attacks if she made it more.
I sometimes ask myself "when did the change happen to me"? You know. At what point did the "I can eat whatever I want and never put on a pound" change to "Oh my gosh.....those pants are WHAT size?" This shouldn't happen to anyone. How I am suppose to convince my children to eat their cheese-laden broccoli spears when I am forced to look them in the eye and tell them "well, I am watching my weight so I can't have cheese". I mean come on !!!! As a mother it is my responsibility to teach by example right? After all, when we decided to have children we made a commitment to them. To teach them, show them, and that's right, eat the same things that we want them to eat. It's my job. I should EAT the cheesy gooey yummy broccoli to show them how it is done. Right? Right? RIGHT?
These last few months, Mii and my Wii have been paying attention to the little things. You know. The calories. Now I am not saying that I never eat cheese anymore. No, no, no. But I do try to eat it less often. It's kind of like a trade off. I don't consume too much cheese and my hips feel better in the morning. It's not really so bad. With the children grown and living on their own now, the pressure to set a good example at the dinner table has been averted. We now add just a smidgen of seasoned salt to our veggies for that "oh.....so almost good" flavor. After all. We are adults. We don't need to cover up the wholesome natural flavor of our vegetables anymore right? We can handle the taste of any ol' steamed vegetable and at least LOOK like we're enjoying it naked. What's that honey? The grand-kids are coming to spend the night with us? Wooo Hooo! Break out the Cheese Whiz and buttered popcorn. I feel a good example coming on.
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Season's Greeting
I must admit that the Christmas season is one of my favorite times of year. I love all of the lights, the music, the cinnamon apple candles burning. It's just so.....oh you know.....Christmasey. It just puts a smile on my face to hear Linus recite his Christmas story for the 100th time. Or to laugh over and over as Ralphy gets told "You'll shoot your eye out!" No matter how many times I play my "Holiday Classics" CD, I never tire of the melodies. Ahhh....there is just something about it all.
The day after Thanksgiving is the day we decorate the house. Or should I say "I" decorate the house. My husband drags his big ol' ladder in and struggles to get it placed just right under the attic door. We have one of those funky ceiling doors that you tug on a rope and the door drops open, and behold......boxes and boxes and boxes.....did I tell you there were BOXES? I must say, I have been collecting Christmas decoration from around the world for years now. Well, maybe not around the world exactly, but from Dollar stores that are out of my area at least. Snowmen too numerous to count. But all so cute that I can't part with any of them. Big ones, small ones, some that are on pillows, some of them on throw blankets. Towels, plates, coffee cups. It's like Frosty himself has brought his entire family to reside at my house for the duration of the winter.
The entire weekend is spent with Christmas music playing and me "ho-ho-ho-ing" merrily along.
I remember in California, the weather never really got very cold, so the first few winters here in Texas were a shock to me. As a matter of fact, the first real cold snap is still a shock to me. Last week I was contemplating crop pants, and this week I am looking to find the wool socks and warm jammies. The aroma of a big pot of chili cooking brings my guys to the table. After all, we have all worked hard to get the house looking wonderful. The outside lights are finished and the tree is ready for it's final addition of the candy canes. All is well in my holiday world.
That is until the dreaded winter clothing plastic tubs are placed within my sight. I am up to 4 of them now. Oh, trust me, it is not because I have so many cute holiday type sweaters. No, no, nooooo. It's because I have saved the different SIZES of those adorable, sparkly, I know-I-will- eventually-be-able-to-wear-this-again-sweaters !!!! It's like a sickness I tell you. I haven't been a size 4 since I don't know when, but this little voice in my head says "You never know.....wouldn't it just be a shame if you got rid of this oh so cute little sweater and next year you lost more weight than would be humanly possible to do and it mysteriously would have fit you"? Can I get an amen here????? I can't imagine that I am the only woman in the world who saves the improbable in hopes of accomplishing the near impossible. And then, to make myself feel even worse?????? I try them all on !!!! Oh the humility of it all. Why in the world I venture to think that a year in a plastic tub is going to somehow change the dimensions of those sweaters and pants is absolutely beyond me. But each year it's the same thing. Year after year after year. And then, exhausted, I lovingly fold them all up and place them gently back in their respective tubs to wait until the first chill the next year. Family traditions are so hard to break.
The day after Thanksgiving is the day we decorate the house. Or should I say "I" decorate the house. My husband drags his big ol' ladder in and struggles to get it placed just right under the attic door. We have one of those funky ceiling doors that you tug on a rope and the door drops open, and behold......boxes and boxes and boxes.....did I tell you there were BOXES? I must say, I have been collecting Christmas decoration from around the world for years now. Well, maybe not around the world exactly, but from Dollar stores that are out of my area at least. Snowmen too numerous to count. But all so cute that I can't part with any of them. Big ones, small ones, some that are on pillows, some of them on throw blankets. Towels, plates, coffee cups. It's like Frosty himself has brought his entire family to reside at my house for the duration of the winter.
The entire weekend is spent with Christmas music playing and me "ho-ho-ho-ing" merrily along.
I remember in California, the weather never really got very cold, so the first few winters here in Texas were a shock to me. As a matter of fact, the first real cold snap is still a shock to me. Last week I was contemplating crop pants, and this week I am looking to find the wool socks and warm jammies. The aroma of a big pot of chili cooking brings my guys to the table. After all, we have all worked hard to get the house looking wonderful. The outside lights are finished and the tree is ready for it's final addition of the candy canes. All is well in my holiday world.
That is until the dreaded winter clothing plastic tubs are placed within my sight. I am up to 4 of them now. Oh, trust me, it is not because I have so many cute holiday type sweaters. No, no, nooooo. It's because I have saved the different SIZES of those adorable, sparkly, I know-I-will- eventually-be-able-to-wear-this-again-sweaters !!!! It's like a sickness I tell you. I haven't been a size 4 since I don't know when, but this little voice in my head says "You never know.....wouldn't it just be a shame if you got rid of this oh so cute little sweater and next year you lost more weight than would be humanly possible to do and it mysteriously would have fit you"? Can I get an amen here????? I can't imagine that I am the only woman in the world who saves the improbable in hopes of accomplishing the near impossible. And then, to make myself feel even worse?????? I try them all on !!!! Oh the humility of it all. Why in the world I venture to think that a year in a plastic tub is going to somehow change the dimensions of those sweaters and pants is absolutely beyond me. But each year it's the same thing. Year after year after year. And then, exhausted, I lovingly fold them all up and place them gently back in their respective tubs to wait until the first chill the next year. Family traditions are so hard to break.
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