We’re Not In Kansas Anymore

I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions here. And participate in the poll over on the sidebar. (oh please do this!)

From ozdom: Occasionally in self-defense I will want to post or comment in the bird's blog (who I will refer to in the future as the chic-my favorite term of endearment). My favorite football coach always said a good defense is a good offense. So, you sometimes might find might find my comments snarky or pithy, only because I sweat in the salt mines daily and come home in a mood that leads the chic to refer to me as blockhead, butthead or worse.

So readers that is my introduction, let me leave you with this gem: The next time your hubby or 'significant other' has something to say about the price of the shoes or dress you just bought, just tell him "That ain't no money in cotton country, bubba".

-ehubby

Editors Note*** Please feel free to comment here...adnauseum, if you wish. This was "his idea", I'm not sure its a good one.

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The Heart of A Lover, The Soul of A Champion.

He never won any medals or ribbons. (Though he could have). He only won my heart.

He came to us, 4 weeks old. From a family of 10. Eight brothers and sisters. Mama refused to care for them. Daddy was helpless. That was Max.

He stayed with me for 17 years. (Longer than my first husband.) He was with me through the loss of a child, the end of a marriage, the death of my Granny, my Mom and my Dad. He was there when my son graduated middle school, high school and married his bride. He had been to a whole host of cities where we lived and visited. He'd even been to the Smithsonian. He played the best game of catch and nuzzled with me when I cried.  He became my best friend, my soul mate, my staunchest defender.Max was a beautiful, blonde haired, brown eyed boy. A full blooded, cocker spaniel, who had NO clue he was a dog.

Over the years, he learned to fetch the keys, from places I didn't realize I'd left them, sit on his haunches and beg for treats after he had brought me the full bag, and jump flat footed into the driver seat of my VW Beetle (circa 1968) when he wanted to go for a ride.He could spell, yes spell, as well as any  7 year old. He knew the meanings of words. He was special.

One sunny summer morning, about a year ago, I woke early and padded toward the kitchen to make coffee. I noticed, Max, who usually was the first riser in the house, was laying in the hall. He must have gotten hot during the night, I thought. The cool tile on his belly must feel good. I called from the kitchen for him. No familiar answer back, no cold nose on my calf. I peered down the hallway, to see his big brown eyes looking up as he struggled to raise himself. "Ah hah", I mocked him, "Cold tile for you equals sore joints". I gingerly picked him up, carried him outside and carefully placed him on the grass in his favorite spot. He struggled again to raise himself, only to fall. My heart sank. Could he have had a stroke during the night? I held his back side so he could do his business, and then I noticed the blood in his urine.

I must have sounded like a mad woman, neighbors opened doors and peered out over balconies, one ran to my side. My husband, ran outside. All I could do was scream orders. "Bring me my keys, phone and his blanket", I shrieked.

At the vet's office, I held him close, nuzzled with him while the vet checked him out. Dr. V looked over his glasses at me, tears in his eyes. "It's time" was all he said. I held on to the exam table to keep from falling to the floor. I knew this day would come. But not today. I wasn't ready for this. Dear God, not today. I prayed that God would let him stay longer with me. I was selfish that way. But Max was 17 years old. For a cocker spaniel that's an old man. His kidney's had failed. His liver was too. It was time for me to be the grown up again. I'd had no choices, no power with death before. Surely this couldn't be the case here. Surely Dr. V could do something. This sweet, sweet man, who' d cared for all of our pets, wiped the tears from his eyes. "I'll give you a few minutes". I held my buddy close, I kissed his now dry nose, and promised him he'd hurt no more. Dr. V returned with a syringe and begged me to leave. "NO!!" "This guy has seen me though the last 17 years. No way am I leaving him now." I held him until the last breath left his body. They wrapped him in his blanket and we left. Max is buried under his favorite oak tree. In a yard where we no longer live. Max lives in my heart. Forever.

This article was written with some sweet inspiration from San Diego Momma, and PromTuesday . Drop by for your own inspiration and read some other great posts.

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Just Another Manic Monday

Today's the day. The First JAMM (Just Another Manic Monday) Carnival. And here's the poop. We're talking Comfort Food!

We're all short on time, patience and money these days. But we all want some comfort food every now and then. What can we have for dinner that won't take a day to cook and won't heat the whole house up while its cooking?  Read on.  These recipes come in at $39.50 to feed a family of four, take less than 4hours total to cook and you can keep your sanity, and maybe even relax a little while dinner's getting cooked.

Southern Style Creamy Mac& Cheese (with a twist)

Hint: You cook this in your crock pot so you don't have to stand over the stove and the kitchen stays cool cool cool in the summer time! you can even do the prep work and set your timer on your crock pot and it'll be ready when you get home from work.

Ingredients:

• 2  cup  uncooked elbow macaroni (an 8 ounce box isn't quite 2 cups)
• 2 1/2  cup  (about 10-ounces) grated sharp Cheddar cheese
• 3 eggs, beaten
• 1/2  cup  sour cream
• 1 (10 3/4-ounce) can condensed Cheddar cheese soup
• 4  tablespoon  (1/2 stick) butter, cut into pieces
• 1/2  teaspoon  salt
• 1  cup  whole milk
• 1/2  teaspoon  dry mustard
• 1/2  teaspoon  pepper

Directions:

Boil the macaroni in a 2 quart saucepan in plenty of water until tender, about 7 minutes. Drain. In a medium saucepan, mix butter and cheese. Stir until the cheese melts. In a slow cooker, combine cheese/butter mixture and add the eggs, sour cream, soup, salt, milk, mustard and pepper and stir well. Then add drained macaroni and stir again. Set the slow cooker on low setting and cook for 3 hours, stirring occasionally.

Drunk Chicken

Ingredients:

• 1 (3-pound) chicken
• Seaoned Salt
• Ground Black Pepper
• Ground Garlic (Not garlic salt)
• 1 (12-ounce) can beer
• 1 sprig rosemary
• Assorted barbecue and hot sauces, your choice

Wash and drain the chicken and pat dry. Season the chicken inside and out with the Seasoned Salt and Ground Black Pepper and Ground Garlic. Refrigerate until ready to cook.

Prepare the charcoal grill. When the coals are hot and glowing, carefully push them over to the sides of the grill, leaving an open space in the middle of the grill. Open the can of beer and pour off approximately 1/4 cup. Insert the sprig of rosemary into the can, then place the beer can, keeping it upright, into the rear cavity of the chicken. Carefully place the chicken, standing up on the beer can, in the center of the grill, making sure not to spill the beer. Cover the grill and cook the chicken for approximately 1 hour, rotating the chicken as necessary. The chicken is done when the juice runs clear when pierced with a fork.

Carefully remove the beer can from the chicken using mitts and discard the can. Cut the chicken into halves or quarters. Serve plain or with sauces.

Note: 1 chicken serves 2 to 4, depending on appetites.

Serve with a Tossed Green Salad and Rolls. YUMMMMY.

What are your favorite comfort foods? Share your homegrown recipies and meal ideas with us. Leave your JAMM links below. Check out the Guidelines here.

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Might As Well Be Walkin On The Sun

I was going to give you all a beautiful post today about life....and death. And then I thought about taxes. And unemployment. And moving. Again. (Almost the perfect country song)  So, instead, I'll just give you this picture. Its what's on my mind.

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Mock Me Gently

O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on.
~William Shakespeare, Othello

This post is fueled by gallons of coffee, mountains of cinnamon rolls and all other fragrance combinations that make me feel good! Fox News tells me that smells determine some of our moods. Um maybe that's why dirty laundry ticks me off!

Twitter is my new favorite method of communication. Thanks to Auds and Mommie Pie and the other 20 or so faithful friends I Tweet each day, I no longer rely soley on Yahoo, Aol, and MSN to deliver my friends immediate thoughts.  Slightly addictive. Highly informative. When it works, Twitter is a good thing. I don't think that they've worked all the kinks out yet, as reliability isn't its strong suit. But like all fledgeling birds, it will eventually get its big bird wings and soar.

You're So Vain

As you know today is  the kick off of  Bloghernot '08. In way of explanation, to those of you who haven't had the pleasure, or who are just in the dark, Bloghernot is NOT in the words of Tootsie Farklepants and I quote :

...not a slam or slight in any way at the BlogHer 2008 conference. There's just a whole bunch of us bloggers that couldn't make it to San Francisco, for whatever reason which may be, but not limited to, one of the following: lack of funds, logistics, no babysitter, previous commitments, nothing to wear, too pregnant, giving birth, just gave birth, fear of flying, fear of driving, fear of hitchhiking, fear of large groups, fear of alcohol, couldn't justify the expense, can't walk that far, didn't meet their goal weight... like I said, whatever the reason, wish we were there but aren't. Please visit Mommypie for a complete list of scheduled sessions for the day.

Which brings us to a tweet I received today. The suggestion was that we (the Bloghernot 08 participants) were jealous of the participants of the unnamed conference occurring on the west coast, USA, this week. Now, mind you the tweet was from a boy. I would say a man, but this one's definitely a boy. Why he's participating in that conference as anything but a sponsor, I don't know. My final tweet back to him was to 'GET A LIFE'.  Though it's doubtful that he will, I said it. Being jealous of anyone takes far too much time and energy. I need all of both of those to get my book finished and keep ehubby in clean clothes and food. Nevermind, try and keep my tiny little marketing company working at top speed. Give me a break! Please know, little lord tweeter, I have a life. I have suffered though 20 years of conferences for one thing or another, eaten enough banquet chicken and bullets to float an army and heard enough frightend virgin speakers that I took to wearing ear protection to keep my hearing amid all the microphone screeches.

So jealous? Ummm, no. Comfortable in my own skin, in my own office, in my own bed at the end of the day? A resounding yes!

In all seriousness though, I do wish the best for the success of Blogher 08. Thanks to the conference in past years, our niche is now a top top market and that's a good thing.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming.

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