How did we miss this?

Or...if y'all knew this and didn't tell me?

Apparently there is this huge new food thing and I didn't know about it. And had I not promised...THIS MORNING...to make tamales Sunday? I would SO be all over this.

Okay, go here and check out Bacon Explosion This is the explanation of how the whole thing came about.

THEN, go check out A Variation and let me know how it turns out. Although...I'm thinking.

I could do this. Ahead of time and then unveil it. Or make it ahead of time and then put it on the grill when we get there.

These things are always such good ideas AHEAD OF TIME ;(

Just in case you've forgotten

Erin, over at Out of Character (re: I can't even float in water this deep ;) is back. New place, same awesomeness. Go visit...you'll be glad you did.


http://http://www.outofcharacter.net/blog

An Open Letter to Middle Aged Husbands

From their middle-aged wives.

Dear Ridiculous Males:

The next time one of you intimates that your loving wife would be unfaithful to you, or go so far as to lose your Viagra-addled mind and come right out and accuse her of doing such a thing, ask yourself this: Would this woman really allow herself to be viewed naked by another man?

This is the woman who has not been seen in a bathing suit, without wearing a beach cover-up, even while in the water, since before 9/11.

Before you state, in all seriousness (disregarding the smack we talk) that your wife would, if given the chance, betray you with a movie star/football player/musician, remember that even you - YOU, who snore and fart and belch in front of her - haven't seen her without at least one article of clothing covering a jiggling or sagging bit since she bore your last child.

Do you really think she could show Johnny Depp her jiggly parts without dying, on the spot, of humiliation? Don't even pause to think about that one. This is an open-book test and the answer is Hell. No.

(For the record, Hub knows I'm all talk and no action when it comes to ogling cute boys, but clearly not all husband do).

Finally, just in case I've not yet driven home my point, parked it in the garage and thrown the keys at you, here's a newsflash: 95% of us think we're disgusting.

We can't even look at ourselves naked! When we try on clothes in public? We turn our backs to the full-length mirror while we undress. We do not think we're sexy. We do NOT believe we are desirable to anyone - not even you, half the time - and we would rather lick 40-weight motor oil off a porcupine with hiccups than risk being cringed at when the towel drops.

Why do you think we married you to begin with? Okay, well, we do love you. We'll give you that...But we got married so we could stop dating. We got married so someone would love us as we are and accept us, and so we wouldn't have to worry about being rejected anymore.

So if you seriously believe, for one minute, that we'd fool around with someone other than you? You need to lay off the Rogaine because it has seeped through your scalp and fried your cerebral cortex.

Now, you need to go apologize to your wife. It doesn't matter that she won't know why you're apologizing...I guarantee she's been waiting for an apology for something for several years.

Signed on behalf of The Women


Editors Note: Lately, I've talked to several women who have had the "unfaithful" conversation with their husbands. It's like a virus going around. Finally, one of them said to me, "Doesn't he know I'd never let ANYONE see me naked?"... and it all became clear. That says it all.

My marriage in a nutshell...

The Big Boy is in the kitchen, fixing something for breakfast. He starts doing that thing he does, fumbling about making a lot of noise so that I'll ask him what he needs. So that he can say, "Nothing," and then, like his mother, I'll beg him to tell me what's wrong so that I can fix it.

I ain't his mother ;(

Finally he says, "The toaster doesn't work."

Now, this is a new toaster, bought for the kids who like to put things in a box and watch it pop out. Of course it works, it's brand new. So I get up and go in there, which is what he intended all along.

He pushes the lever down and it futilely pops back up, never catching or acting like it's engaging. He does it a couple of times, with the same result. He steps aside and I push down the lever...same result.

Then...this is us:

He tosses his bread in the sink. "Recall item."

End of discussion.

I'm standing there thinking, "New toaster. I can fix this."

So I plugged it in.

He says, "Well, I couldn't see the plug!!"

And I replied, "Neither could I."

My first boyfriend and I could eat an entire can of fruit cocktail because I only ate the pears and grapes, and he only ate everything else. I guess of such is born a relationship.

This isn't the way I envisioned it ;)

The problem with photographs...

...is that they remember things you don't. Although this one is...funny. And needless to say, alcohol was involved ;)

Back in the day, when we had one self-sufficient kid, we did a lot more grown-up things. One night The Big Boy was out of town and a couple of my childhood friends came over. We went to eat Mexican. (Interpretation: we went to drink margaritas.) When we came home, there was a pile of old wood at the curb by my driveway.

Background...the man who lived next door to us was a neat freak. And he would rake his yard or trim his bushes and pile all his refuse in front of MY house. Which wouldn't have mattered except that my driveway was halfway up a hill, and if you were coming home from the other direction, you had to pull into the oncoming lane to turn into our driveway. And should someone happen to be coming OVER that hill from the opposite direction? You were head on.

So we come rolling in from an excessive amount of margaritas and...there was this pile. Turns out, Tidy Neighbor had torn down an old treehouse in his backyard and piled it in front of MY house. It was the proverbial straw.

Like I said, alcohol was involved and at the time this was a really good idea. Our designated driver, who is responsible all the time, may have suggested this was not the best move of the night but hey!!! What did she know??? SHE WAS SOBER!

Laughing as only childhood friends can laugh, I went into the house, got two small firestarter sticks and went outside and set the wood on fire.

I repeat...it was a good idea at the time.

WHO KNEW dry old lumber could burn so quickly? WHO KNEW dry old lumber flames could leap so high? WHO KNEW those high flames could leap into the trees so quickly?

We pulled out the hose. Turned on the water. And then, because we were still laughing too hard to breathe, crimped the hose so that only a trickle of water came out and instead of putting out the fire, just prevented it from spreading.

This was really, really funny.

And then the emergency vehicles started arriving.

Which was even funnier.

Fire got put out. I got kudos for my quick thinking. We went inside and drank whatever was left and laughed the rest of the night away.

The next morning I was in the kitchen making coffee when the doorbell rang. My friend from Nashville was asleep on the couch. The married friends were asleep in a bedroom. I answered the door.

There stood the neighbor from Kansas, the neat freak, with a gift bag in his hand. A gift bag. FOR ME. And for real, dead serious, he hugged me and told me he'd brought me a gift, a bottle of wine, to thank me. To thank me.

FOR SAVING THE NEIGHBORHOOD.

I couldn't make this shit up.

I made it throught the gift presentation, gave him time to get down the front steps and then...waked the entire house with my hoots. We snickered and laughed and giggled and HOWLED.

I. Saved. The. Neighborhood.

In hindsight, I did. Although we told everyone we guessed someone had thrown out a cigarette and started the fire, word got out. And for real...the guy relocated his refuse. To ACROSS the street, on someone else's side yard. But I opened a box yesterday and here was this picture...

Damn. We were good ;)

Smells Like Entreprenurial Spirit

The economy is still in pretty bad shape job-wise. This is not news.

But for those of us who work in a fairly secure industry (knock wood, spit, spit, throw salt, cross my fingers) it's a little too easy to take shit - like a paycheck - for granted.

Until you talk to somebody like our bestie Dory, who is an extremely talented graphic designer, but who lives in the left ventricle of the recession-addled Heartland and is having a bit of trouble finding someone to, you know, design for.

So what does she do? Does she whine about it? Does she join the Tea Party and march around at City Council meetings dressed like Betsy Ross on crack, brandishing a misspelled sign?

Hellz no.

She went authentic Helen Reddy on that shit. She stuck out her chin, pinned back her ears and went into business for herself. Hear Me Roar, motherfuckers!

Actually, she's going in to a couple of businesses, the first of which is photography and design. She's been doing this for a while, obv, but now she's taking it to the big-time. More to come later.

The, in my opinion, really interesting thing she's doing is NC17, so if you aren't 18 year old, don't click here.

Hang your head in shame, Tupperware. Sit down and shut up, Mary Kay. There's a new game in town and it's a HOOT!!

So here's the thing - she needs to get this venture off the ground and has been brainstorming marketing ideas. I'm thinking bachelorette parties are a perfect fit for this particular...product line. Why just sit around, getting drunk and playing stupid games when you could have a theme party?

Another option - maybe cougar birthday parties. You know, Happy 50th, we know your husband left you for a 30-year-old, but you don't need him to have a good time! Yes? You think? The trick is figuring out how to reach out to those women....

You're a diverse, creative, intelligent group of people, so I pose this question to you: Which markets do you think she should target, and how? We're obviously missing demographic groups here, I'm just not sure which ones. Sorority girls? How would you do that?

Hmm...Baby showers? Is that appropriate? Actually, personally, I think that would be damn funny. How the hell do you think she got knocked up to begin with?!

This may explain why I don't get invited to bridal or baby showers.

Please talk amongst yourselves and comment with your ideas. And do feel free to do some shopping while you're at it. Surely you know a pregnant woman or a 49-year-old....

I'll be 66 when she gets out of college...

So I'm standing in the checkout line buying milk and bread...........;)

Not really. I was standing in the checkout line with a case of beer, a case of wine and two bottles of champagne. Everyone ELSE was buying milk and bread which doesn't make a lick of sense because...I'm going to be stuck in this house for two or three days with Those I Love Most? Someone better be drinking and I prefer it be me.

It's snowing in the South. This constitutes an emergency unlike anything seen anywhere else on the planet. It is a standing joke because all the weatherman has to do is mention the S word and...everyone runs out and buys milk and bread. I've never met anyone who eats milk sandwiches, but this is what we do.

ANYWAY. I was doing that thing we all do in checkout lines...surreptitiously reading the covers of the trashy rags lined up next to the candy. And without fail, there she was. The Number Two cover line on slick magazines...a middle-aged movie star holding her new baby.

The Number One? Walk Off Ten Pounds Before Dinner. Shows up on at least one magazine a week.

Well, just let me tell you what's NOT in Movie Star's article. There's no mention of the STAFF of caretakers for the new baby. There's no mention of the personal trainer who got MS back into her pre-pregnancy jeans in four days. There's no mention of the personal chef who not only cooked her meals, but served them to her and then cleaned up the mess. There's no mention of the personal assistant who's managing her "affairs," or the housekeeper who's managing the baseboards or the personal esthetician who removed all the bags and wrinkles and stretch marks and undereye circles. There's no mention...but you get the picture. It's real easy to look like that if someone else is handling all your stuff for you.

But what's funny is that standing there all beamy, holding that cute little dumpling and flashing those pearly whites, is only a click in time. The real stuff is coming and let me tell you, it's not pleasant.

After over four years of crazy infertility treatment, I had The Miracle Child In My Old Age when I was 40. Life being what it is, and God having an AWESOME sense of humor, after 28 years of unprotected sex I got up one day and I was 44 years old and pregnant. I just THOUGHT I knew about miracle children and old age.

Things They Don't Tell You...

**There will come a time you can't put your daughter's hair into a ponytail because your hands hurt too much to twist the ponytail holder. Arthritis isn't for really old people...it shows up a lot earlier than you'd think.

**Bleacher seats are tools of the devil. Evil inventions primarily designed to make your hips hurt so badly that you'll stand up indefinitely. This can get interesting when you're in a gym like...ALL DAY.

**Your peer group gets younger and younger. With The Nice Kid (the one I had at 40) I'd make jokes about the occasional parent who wasn't alive when Kennedy was shot. The last time I made that crack? I was the only one there who WAS alive when Kennedy was shot. I think I'm giving up that specific remark.

**Volunteering at school isn't fun anymore. In my case, because of The Big Kid, I've been doing this for 30 years. I don't WANT to bake any more cakes for the Fall Festival or paint any more flower pots for the bazaar or man any more ticket booths ANYWHERE. In my case? When I like the teacher? I go in at the beginning of the year and lay it out...I'm not putting my name on ANYTHING. I'm not volunteering for ANYTHING. I'm not raising my hand for ANYTHING. Having said that...if no one else will do it, call me. I probably won't say no ;)

**Clothes are not fun anymore. I don't care if everyone is wearing skin-tight leggings with high-heeled boots. Leggings make me sweat and high heels hurt my feet and BEEN THERE! DONE THAT! Which brings us to...

**Makeup sucks. I already HAVE smoky eyes, it's just that the smudges are underneath instead of on my lids. Foundation just gets in my wrinkles and blush just blends in with the rest of my red face. And those little lines around my mouth? You don't really notice them if there's no lipstick creeping toward my nose.

**My friends? The ones I grew up with? Have GRANDCHILDREN older than my youngest. MY friends are traveling. They collect antiques because hey!!! No more red Koolaid to spill on the furniture! They want to go out in the middle of the week? Great! THEY aren't failing fifth grade math for the fourth time or trying to make Playdoh into food crops like the Indians grew. MY friends get massages and regular mani-pedi's because THEY don't still have two kids to put through college.

Having said this, even though the last child is the least pleasant of my three, I wouldn't trade places with anyone on this planet. I learn stuff y'all don't....like, well see...I forgot. The things I learned from the kids.

It's an age thing ;)

I Scream You Scream

We got a thick - 9 1/2 " - blanket of snow last night, which means two things:

1. No school
2. Snow Cream!

Thank you, Paula Deen, High Priestess of Southern Cuisine, for providing an actual recipe for snow cream. With condensed milk in short supply, I'd hate to have to make this using the trial-and-error method!

Ingredients

• 8 cups snow, or shaved ice
• 1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions

Place snow or shaved ice into a large bowl. Pour condensed milk over and add vanilla. Mix to combine. Serve immediately in bowls.

iPhone 4

This is hilarious.

Yes, I got an iPhone for Christmas, but only because the Hub got one and because I *didn't* get a MacBook. Santa thought it was a good compromise, and I agree.

I do love me some Apple products, but am not a hard-core Mac person...for those of you who are, you might be offended by the cute little cartoon critters.

:: snort! ::

NSFW - Language

Apparently, I had a Christmas godmother...

...as opposed to a Fairy Godmother. Because on the stroke of five o'clock today? I ran OUT of me some Christmas spirit. I ran out of ANYTHING remotely related to kindness, tolerance and motherly love. Don't EVEN be looking at me because I am NOT happy to be here.

And yes, those words are in caps for a REASON because YES, I am yelling. A lot.

The Nice Kid went back to school today, while The Not Nice Kid had the day off. We slept late and piddled around, and then went to Olive Garden (my kids' idea of perfect) for lunch. Bought some groceries. Bought some more groceries. Came home.

Where I promptly turned into a pumpkin. Or a frog or whatever the hell that story was.

TNK has lost two of my oldest and most memorable earrings this month. One each from two sets. She has an F and a D on her report card, but sees nothing wrong with texting and Facebooking because, "I don't have any homework."

When I asked her to pour the leftover stew into the dog's bowl, she did. Then set the pan and the spoon IN THE FLOOR beside the bowl and left the room. When I asked her to put her dirty dishes in the dishwasher, she did. Without (forget RINSING) even scraping the cup of food still in there out.

Whatever I threw that time? Broke.

I've been working on the upstairs bathroom all afternoon and when I asked her to bring down the shower curtain to go in the next load of laundry? She did.

With the fucking shower curtain hooks STILL IN THE CURTAIN.

Should you ever have a hankering to make Turkish Delight because you saw it in the movie? Three-fourths cup shelled pistachios IN WALMART are $10. TEN. DOLLARS. One thousand cents, or thereabouts. I'm seriously banking on a bunch of fifth graders not knowing the difference in pistachios and sunflower seeds and if they do? WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT?????

The Big Boy has been huffing and puffing around here the last couple of weeks. Of course, this is because of the animals or the heat running or some nefarious plan put in place by whomever is out to get him this week. NOTHING has been mentioned about the 15 or 20 POUNDS he's gained in the last month and YES, if you are 6'5" then you can carry a lot of weight but I don't care HOW tall you are...240+ pounds is a lot of pounds. So when he started complaining about whatever he was certain was attacking him, the other day...I VERY politely asked that if he was going to have a heart attack, would he please do it at work so I didn't have to put up with a bunch of paramedics trampling all over the house.

He has NO sense of humor.

You know what I DID do that improves the planet? Bought (THIS SIGN) to carry around in my car and flash at those stupid women, driving in the left lane alternating between 40 and 80 miles and hour and weaving all over the road while TALKING ON THEIR CELLPHONES.

Yes, I know there's no picture there. It's 25 degrees and falling and I'm not going out to the car to take a picture but I will tomorrow. The sign says, "Hang up and drive!"

So tomorrow, I start the new year. With no resolutions other than to get through each day, at the best making someone's life a little nicer and at the worst, not committing bodily harm against someone who deserves it. One step at a time...one step at a time ;)