Never Too Old

For all the times I got away with things as I kid, I get caught as an adult.

I was at my moms in search of a snack and I pulled out a oatmeal raisin cookie.  I am not a fan of raisins in food so I stood at the sink and pulled out the raisins and dropped them down the drain.  My mom, who was standing at the kitchen table with her back to me, must have heard the "ping" of raisins hitting the rubber in the sink and I heard "Amanda Rose!  I know what you're doing!"

Busted.

I was just eating over the sink so crumbs wouldn't make a mess...........HA!

Victory by Defeat

For any of you who have not traveled in Salt Lake City, UT before it can be rather confusing to one who is not used to their system of naming roads by numbers. You'll find there's a 900 West, 900 East, 900 South, 900 North and so on with all other numbers.

I went looking for the nearest Salvation Army today located at 3460 South 5600 West only to find that it was closed down and that further dropoffs needed to be taken to 5448 South 900 East. Without glancing at a map or using Google I decided I would try and find the new location on my own. Amazingly enough I finally arrived at the location where the Salvation Army should have been. After driving by once I didn't see it and pulled a quick U-turn to look again. I pulled into the parking lot to look closer at the names of the stores and it's no wonder I didn't see the store name from the road. The sign for the Salvation Army store said "THE---STORE" in big bold letters with an itty-bitty Salvation Army shield in between the words that was no bigger than the size of my face. Could they have found a smaller logo?

Needless to say, I felt victorious in the fact that I had found the store with my navigating skills. However, my victory was short lived when I learned the doors to the store were locked. Apparently they're closed on Mondays.

Just my luck. Victory followed by defeat. I tried not to cry as I walked back to my car.

Where are they?

My husband and I went tubing in the snow covered Utah mountains the other day. The location of this place was near the Interstate so you heard occasional sounds of semi's downshifting using their Jake brake, or very loud motorcycles passing by, etc. At one point while we were waiting in line to be towed up the hill a very loud semi went by that was using his Jake brake. That's when a younger girl behind us, mid to late teens, said, "I keep hearing helicopters but I just don't see any."

Bite back your laugh.......

Brake Problems....

My sister recently came for a visit and we had the wonderful opportunity to explore the Vicksburg National Military Park in Vicksburg, MS. It was a very windy day and there were tree limbs and sticks of all sizes littering the road we were to travel on throughout the park.

As we were cruising around the park with the windows down I began to hear a high pitched whining sound. I stuck my head out the window and as I listened closer it appeared that the sound was coming from my car. I quickly asked my sister if she heard it as well and she in turn asked me if I had a brake problem. Of course I didn't have a brake problem but that didn't stop me from telling her to look out the window to see if we were pulling something. My sister thrust her head out the window, looking from the back wheels to the front wheels and said she didn't see anything. At that exact moment we heard the shrill whining noise increase, followed by a loud bump-bump, SNAP, thump-thump noise.........and all was quiet on the road.

We flung our heads out the window and there lying in the road behind us was a tree branch that somehow got snagged underneath my car as we were driving along at 25mph. We couldn't stop laughing, especially when we wondered what the people driving behind us must have been thinking.

How did I not see that branch in the road?

Clearly Defined

It is apparently clear to me that my husband and I had a different opinion on what high milage oil meant.

To me, high milage oil means I can go 5,000-6,000 miles before needing another oil change.

To my husband, high milage oil means oil for a vehicle with high milage on it.

When I asked my husband to pick up 6 quarts of oil for me for high milage, he did just that. It clearly wasn't the oil I needed for my vehicle. When he got home and explained what he bought, at my request, I tried to defend my way of thinking to him as to what high milage oil meant in my terms but I got nowhere.

I know, I do it to myself. :)

Lavender Love

My very dear friend gave me a bar of soap for Christmas, and no, she wasn't trying to drop a hint. I love soaps and lotions and such. Anywho, I decided it was time to unwrap it and use it. The bar of soap is a light purple color and has a lavender fragrance to it.

A few nights ago I noticed the bar of soap was positioned differently than the last time I used it. I quizzically looked at my husband and asked, "Did you use my bar of soap?" I was by no means upset, just curious.

My husband looked at me and replied, "Yes. That is the biggest bar of soap I've ever seen in my life!"

I asked him if he realized the fragrance was lavender but that didn't seem to phase him. Does the size of the soap outweigh the smell? LOL!

I wonder what would happen if I placed a bar of soap scented with rose petals in the shower next......

2nd Gear

Here are the facts:

-My husbands truck is a manual
-My car is an automatic
-The front of my parked car faces a dog pen

My husband pulled up behind my car blocking me in this morning. I casually teased him saying that someone had parked their big red truck behind my car and that I was going to have to call the police. He then asked me if I had anywhere to go this morning.

I said, "No, I don't, but if I do I'll just throw my car into 2nd gear and push that big truck out of my way."

He then shot back with, "You'd be in the fence."

Why must he be so quick with the wit?!

Those Ones

This Arizona girl has been living in Mississippi for about six months now. I personally don't think I talk with an accent, I mean, be honest with me folks. Do I? I always thought I talked rather normal. Once in awhile I come across someone out here in the south that has that Mississippi drawl and I know I don't talk like that.

On one occasion I was told that my voice was too cultured to be from these parts. Made me laugh but it made me realize that the Mississippi locals hear something in my voice that I don't. While I was at work last week one of my co-workers brought to my attention that I say "those ones" and they thought it was funny enough to tease me about it. Then today I was working on selling a pair of boots to some men and I pointed at the boots and asked if "those ones" were a good fit. The older of the two immediately said, "Those ones? You must not be from around here. Where you from?"

What is the deal? Do people not use the words "those ones" in these parts? I'd sure like to know what they DO substitute for those words. I'm confused. Pahhhh!

Nut Job

The other night I was feeling a little homesick so I decided to make an old family cake recipe of my grandma's. I had been craving the taste of this simple chocolate cake topped with walnuts and chocolate chips and I set to work creating the cake. From upstairs I was peppered with questions from my husband about what I was doing. He was in bed due to an ailing back that night.

Him: "What are you doing?"
Me: "I'm making a cake."
Him: "What kind of cake?"
Me: "It's a chocolate cake."
Him: "That sounds good."
Me: "It might not be what you're expecting. It's an old family recipe."

Minutes pass by and I bring the cocoa pink cuplets cake out of the oven. I'm still hesitant as to whether he will want a piece so I only cut one, for me, and take it upstairs with my glass of milk. As I walk in the doorway I notice his eyes are searching to see what the piece of cake looks like so I lean the plate down towards him.

Me: "Would you like a piece of cake?"
Him: "No thanks, my stomachs uneasy."
Me: "Okay, that's fine babe. I'll eat it up."
.....a few seconds pass by........
Him: "Can I try a bite of your cake?"
Me: "Sure."
......eating a forkful of cake........
Him: "I don't really care for nuts."

That was all he said and I figured I was going to get the whole cake to myself. After I finished my cake I went downstairs to clean the dishes and when I turned around I noticed he had followed me to the kitchen.

Me: "What are you doing?"
Him: "I think the cake will make me feel better."

Apparently nuts on the cake weren't enough to repel his desire for a piece. He's a nut!

Turnips & Collard Greens

I was holding up a clothes rack at work today during an uneventful afternoon when one of my 71 year old co-workers came up to me. I was pulling myself out of a daze when I heard her say something about collard greens and white teeth. I kindly asked her to repeat herself and she said to me, "You must eat a lot of collard greens and turnips because your teeth are so white. You have pretty teeth." I think it kind of shocked me at first but I smiled and said thank you in reply.

Little does she know I've never tasted a turnip and I've only had collard greens once in my life. Collard greens and turnips mean white teeth.

Must be a southern thing. HA!

Mississippi Gumbo

I enjoy eating fish and maybe a shrimp here and there on a rare occasion but that's about the extent of my seafood dining. We were invited over to a couples house after church this evening for some true Mississippi gumbo. I have never experienced gumbo but knew it included plenty of sea life and went with an open mind and an open appetite.

The gumbo smelled tantalizing and I asked her what was in it. A combination of okra, crab, chicken, sausage, shrimp, and a handful of seasonings to top it off. I served myself some gumbo over a few scoops of rice and began my authentic gumbo experience.

I actually enjoyed the flavor of all the ingredients, however, there were a few times when I would look at my spoon and couldn't figure out what I was about to put in my mouth. I decided to stop looking at the spoon and just eat. The combined flavors were warm and tasty.

Nearing the bottom of my bowl I happened to look down at the contents and saw a gray round thing in the remaining gumbo. It was light gray in color and a little smaller than a petite sized pea. I reasoned that it had to have been a seasoning of some sort but all I could think about was a shrimps eye. In my mind I pictured the look on a crawfish cooked whole and how similar they are to shrimp. How many had I already consumed?! My mind was telling me one thing while my imagination was telling me another. I had to push the image from my mind in order to finish the remaining gumbo in my bowl. I couldn't help but nudge the round balls to the far side of my dish and finished off my gumbo.

Despite the mysterious gray balls I truly enjoyed the gumbo.                                              

(Come to find out they were just cooked okra seeds.)

Uninvited Guest

We just moved to a new trailer park this weekend and as I was sitting at my desk enjoying the fall colors outside my window I noticed some kind of HUGE hornet/wasp thing flying around. He continues landing on the window and flying around the trailer and I'm truly hoping he is not planning on making an extended stay here. I'm already on edge about it and when our dog Benny's foot touched me underneath the desk I nearly went into a spasm thinking I had been stung. I quickly reminded myself that the wasp was outside, not inside.

I can just imagine the trials I would face if he chooses to make a home at our trailer. I see a purchase of wasp and hornet spray in my near future.

Creatures of the Forest

The other night I let my imagination get the best of me.

Benny was pacing and I knew he needed to take an emergency run outdoors. I quickly threw a coat on over my PJ's and headed out with Benny into the dark of night. I clutched the flashlight close to my chest as I listened to Benny munching on grass. Despite a few lights twinkling from the surrounding trailers I felt very alone out there in the black of night and quickly turned the flashlight on. My imagination was running at warp speed with thoughts of what might be out in the woods behind our trailer. The night was alive with forest noises and I swung the beam of the flashlight up into the trees.

I moved the flashlight left to right as I searched the woods, half expecting to see a pair of glassy eyes reflecting back at me, let alone another person out there staring back at me. Just the thought of coming across someone or something watching me out there was enough to set me on a path of freak out mode. I kept the flashlight pointed at the woods letting my imagination get the best of me as I'd throw a cautious look over my shoulder every now and then. As soon as Benny was done we hightailed it inside. I couldn't make it up the trailer stairs fast enough and practically stumbled through the front door.

As if I didn't freak out enough with just the thought of what might be out in the woods I know I would have flipped a lid if I'd actually seen something. Me and my wild imagination!

Three Flights Up

I went downtown today towards City Hall to find the local school district office. Even though I had mailed my resume I wanted to go down there in person and fill out an application. I found the old historic building and parked about a block away. I began my trek to the building and after seeing a man in green and white striped pants sitting nearby I soon realized that the Sheriff's Correctional Facility was connected to the building I was about to go in. I came across two sets of double doors, one reading something about booking and the other reading the name of the building. I shot for the doors that had nothing to do with the Sheriff's department and walked into a large and very empty lobby.

Feeling very out of place I quickly began searching for the directory and found I needed the 3rd floor. Rather than take the elevator I opted for the stairs thinking it would be a healthy choice to hike rather than ride. Upon reaching the 3rd floor stairwell door I realized I was panting ridiculously from the climb and figured I would have a moment to compose myself in a hallway of some sort after exiting the stairwell. Wrong. As soon as I opened the door I found myself standing directly in front of the receptionist's desk with boxes all over the place. I walked in with a look of shock, I'm sure, not expecting to walk right into someone's personal office after exiting the stairs. I looked to the right and there was another prisoner in green and white striped pants emptying the floors garbage cans and spraying down counters. I quickly looked to the woman sitting behind the desk and between panting breaths I asked her if this was the district school office. Needless to say, I was in the right place despite it looking like a makeshift command post for juvenile detention offices.

I was pointed to a small desk in the corner where I was directed to fill out the BLUE application form. When I was finished I handed my application and resume to a blonde lady sitting behind the desk as the previous lady was MIA. As I looked around I noticed that the stairwell I had come up had a huge sign on it stating "Emergency Exit" so I decided I would make a quiet exit and take the elevator down. Feeling as though I stuck out like a sore thumb the skinny elevator doors finally opened and I stepped inside. I stood there staring into the office for what seemed like many awkward minutes waiting for the doors to close. The MIA lady came back to the front desk and asked the blonde, "Did she fill out the back of the form?" Uh, ya, still here, still hearing every word you say about me.

All I can say is that's the last time I try to be healthy and take the stairs. LOL

There's a Snake in My Bed

I woke up in the middle of the night to find my husband holding the covers of the bed up in the air while he looked underneath. I had no idea what he was doing but soon got concerned when he started talking. Here's how the conversation went:

Him: "What is that?"
Me: "What is it?"
Him: "What is this?"
Me: ...speaking in a panic, "What's under there?" (now thinking that there is a bug or snake in our bed)
Him: ...still holding the sheets up, "This is carbon wire!"
Me: "What?"

I soon realized there was nothing to fear. No spiders, bugs or snakes in the bed. After hearing my husband talk about carbon wire I knew it was safe to roll over and go back to bed.

Five Alarm Fire

I was making some homemade salsa today and as my husband always complains that it is not spicy enough for him I decided to add some fresh jalapeno. I typically make it mild so when I was faced with the jalapeno on my cutting board I didn't know how much to add. I went with half the of the pepper, diced it up into minute chunks and called it good.

While completing the salsa I had to blow my nose so I grabbed a tissue and blew. Immediately my nose felt like it was on fire. My right nostril seemed to have a flame inside that was tearing my nose apart. In that brief moment I couldn't remember whether I'd washed my hands before blowing my nose and knew that the jalepeno heat had set my nostril on fire. I did the only thing I could think of to cool down the growing fire. I grabbed an ice cube and stuck it up my nose.

So here's hoping to an early extinguish on the wildfire that is rampaging in my nose.......as I grab another ice cube out of the freezer and stuff it up my nostril.

Now You See It, Now You Don't

The other day I had the treat of trimming my dogs toenails. I was amazed at how well they did for me. As I was trimming Chloe's nails I was putting the clippings in a nice little pile on the carpet beside me. I finished working on her and got up to go to the kitchen for just a few seconds leaving the pile of nails on the floor. When I turned around Chloe was looking at me sheepishly with those expressive eyebrows of hers. I looked to the floor and noticed the pile of nail clippings was gone, it had disappeared. She'd eaten her nails!

Nothing like a little extra calcium in the morning.

Sweating Bullets

I came home feeling as though I had robbed a bank today.

I visited a favorite antique store in Kansas and found a 1959 kitchen plate that I really wanted to hang in my kitchen. It had something written on it like "This kitchen is ruled with a rolling pin, if you doubt it just start something..." Pretty funny I thought. When I picked it up I noticed there was a price tag on the front as well as the back but they were different in price. One was $7.89 and the other $24.25. I walked up to the front desk to get some clarification on which price stood.

The man and woman behind the counter both looked it over and then the man told me that the 7.89 was just the booth number it came from. The dollar sign in front of the 7.89 was minute but I could still make it out, however I kept my disagreement to myself. I put the plate back on the shelf and continued walking around the store with the plate hanging over my head. I couldn't let it go. After awhile I picked the plate up once more and walked to the front desk.

I am not a person that bickers or questions prices. I normally take it or leave it but I knew the $7.89 was a price, not a booth number. I walked up nervously to the front desk, anxiously awaiting a reprimand for daring to question the employees knowledge of antiques and prices. I felt like I was sweating bullets and all lights pointed on me while I explained to her that no other item in that booth had the number 7.89 and that every piece had #90905 written on it. She pulled out her magnifying glass and took a closer look. She then stated that it did indeed look like a $ sign and she'd sell it for that price. Phew.

No reprimand, no dirty looks, but boy did I feel like I was getting away with a steal. I had a few other items I wanted to purchase but after going through the anxiety of defending my reasoning I wanted to bolt as soon as I'd bought the plate. I zipped out the door and jumped in the car without looking back. I called my sister up and told her I felt like I had just robbed a bank. I was so nervous and felt like I'd stolen something.

I'd gotten away with a steal and lived to tell the tale. If I go back for the other few items I was looking at I think I'll go in disguise.

Never Say Yes

I ran into an older lady yesterday, that I have met maybe once in my life, and we started a friendly chat. I decided to take a load off my feet and pulled up a chair as we talked about this and that.

The next thing I knew she said something to me that I could not understand. Her voice danced over the sylables in a singsong tune and I couldn't understand a word she'd said. I kindly asked her to repeat herself but the same thing happened. I couldn't make sense of it other than picking up a word or two about "broid" and "towels". I was racking my brain trying to process her words and wondered if asking her a 3rd or 4th time would seem rude. In an act of stupidity I finally said, "Yes" and nodded my head.

"Oh!" she said with a surprised look on her face. I knew I had made a fatal mistake. What had I just said yes to?! With panic running through my brain I quickly said, "Well, maybe not." At that same instant my brain, which was working overtime trying to decipher what was said, put two and two together and I realized she was asking me if I had embroidered the tea towels she had gotten me for our wedding. That was a definite NO and I had to quickly play it off and explain to her that I hadn't embroidered the towels..........yet.

Why on earth do I get myself into these situations?!

Simply Smashing

This afternoon found myself shopping at a local grocery store with my husband. As we were coming to the end of the aisle I noticed an older man sitting on a motorized grocery cart about six feet away. I didn't want to presume that he was staring at me but he was definitely looking in my direction as he sat there on his cart. At the time I wasn't quite sure what to make of him.

I watched as he continued to stare while simultaneously hitting the gas pedal on his grocery cart and without warning drove himself directly into the end cap on the aisle, smashing into a collection of chip bags. He went all of about three feet. The abrupt halt to his path apparently snapped him out of his trance.

Note to self: don't stare and steer behind the wheel. HA!