Friday, December 15, 2017

my sweet hubby's seminar...

So today My Sweet Hubby (MSH) and I had things to do in Ft. Worth. We left at 8:15 a.m. for Costco. (Discovered if you get there at 9:50, sometimes they open up early! That was a nice surprise.) We’d already gone through a carwash in MSH’s truck and filled up his tank with gas.

Costco (and Sam’s, for that matter) always amazes me. You can be up front—near the cashiers—and there’re no lines. Two minutes later? TWO MINUTES? Every person in the store is now checking out AT THE SAME TIME. Sheesh.

We went from there to a meeting that lasted about an hour and a half. It included lunch. Which was tres nice. Then we made a run by the Apple store. I needed to pick up a new charging cord. (I get the 6-ft cord. Long story.) I haven’t had mine for even a year. It stopped working a few days ago. I can’t even continue this discussion. It makes me NUTS. That store makes me EVEN NUTTIER. (The guy that helped me? I truly never knew if he was talking to me or someone on his ear-piece. I chose to look everywhere but at him while he printed my receipt. I’m old. I can’t handle a lot of confusion.)

Then we went to Wally World in Weatherford. For 30 minutes of last-minute items we needed that we couldn’t get at Costco.

Got home around 3:30. Pooped. Cause we is old.

I’ve not mentioned lately that I’ve lost 44.4 pounds. FORTY-FOUR POINT FOUR pounds! On Weight Watchers! I’ve actually hit my goal and will be a “Lifetime” member in January. I. AM. PSYCHED. They very recently changed the Smart Points program to a program called Freestyle. I’m adjusting. It shouldn’t be such a big deal.  I’m slowly adjusting. Sigh. I’m not big on change.

After we unloaded MSH’s truck, I decided I was going to make me a very, VERY low-point dinner. A lot of veggies and legumes are now “zero” points. In WWs’ terms? That’s big. Huge, in fact. I got out a can of Progresso Light Chicken Noodle soup. Which I think is YUMMY. A can of chickpeas. A can of low-sodium pinto beans. A can of corn. And a can of peas. (I thought the peas were going to be zero—turns out they were 2 for ½ cup. I’m so sorry to bore Y’all with these details.) I then found one of MSH’s sauce pans to combine all of these together—knowing it’d be at least three meals for me. If not four.

Now here’s a little tidbit of minutia for Y’all: I cannot use MSH’s electric can opener. I simply cannot figure out how to work it. You actually hold it in your hand while it opens the can. Makes a lovely “cut” that allows you to keep the lid and use it again. (WTH happened to the electric can openers of days gone by??? They were a piece of cake.)

I tried to learn how to operate it when he purchased this annoying-kitchen-thingy several years ago. I failed. Over and over. Proceeded to buy myself a Kitchen Aid can opener that is just that: ONLY A CAN OPENER. Not electric. Not fancy. Old-fashioned. I adore it.

As MSH watched me begin to open all of the cans, he said: “Could I get my can opener out and do that for you?”

Yes. That was nice. Because he’s nice. A LOT. However, I felt I needed to make my (on-going) point that I don’t need his stinkin’ weird can opener. I said I appreciated his thoughtfulness, but I was good.

His reply:

“You know, you’re invited to my Electric Can Opener Seminar. It’s next week. Tuesday. It won’t last long. Promise. Try to come!”

I, unfortunately, cannot attend. Darnitall. Maybe he’ll have another one down the road. Winky. Wink.

Happy Friday! Happy Weekend, Silly Friends Everywhere! (Try not to eat a lot of food from cans.)



Wednesday, December 13, 2017

attack of the horsefly...

So I was going to do a completely different post this evening. (I am in LOVE, LOVE, LOVE with a cute little sitcom called 9JKL. I think it’s a CBS show. And I’m not sure what night it comes on. Thursdays? Maybe. It’s about a Mom and Dad that live on the same floor in a high-rise building as their two sons. The oldest son is a heart surgeon. The younger son—the Mom’s favorite and everyone knows it—is an actor. Oldest=married with a son. Youngest=divorced. I think. Y’all would know ALL OF THESE ACTORS. Maybe not the wife of the oldest son. Elliott Gould is the Dad. Linda Lavin is the Mom. They are PERFECTION. I can’t get the sons names to come to my brain right now—but y’all know them. Trust me. The characters are perfection. The writing is HYSTERICAL. I laugh out loud. On my couch. The entire 22-ish minutes (I record it so I pass up 99% of the commercials.).

Sadly, I believe the last episode is this week. (Sorry I’m slow on sharing my excitement about this awesome TV show. If you have Netflix or can somehow watch it on some other service, please, PLEASE do. I would be shocked if you didn’t think it was as wonderful as I’m telling you.)

I am hoping and PRAYING this adorable show is renewed. If y’all have been reading our blog long, you know shows that we LOVE, LOVE, LOVE seem to get cancelled. This show is FABULOUS. Funny. Creative. Different! It should not get the ax/a pink slip.

Tonight I want to VENT/share/complain about a RAGING horsefly that literally attacked me this morning as I tried to get into my shower.

My Sweet Hubby (MSH) had left for town to get his haircut. It was about 8:00 a.m. I had the water on and was literally walking in when out flew this cRaZy and HUGE horsefly. (We don’t have a shower door. You walk into the shower and take a hard right. Now you’re in.) I screamed. SCREAMED. At the top of my old lungs. It scared me so much I thought I might have a heart attack. Or stroke.

It flew BACK INTO THE SHOWER. Waiting for me. I got my robe back on in milliseconds and ran to our utility room, which is where I keep two fly swatters. I grabbed the ugly one. (The cute one is animal print and it’s really just there to make me smile when I see it.)

I went back into our bathroom—peeked around the corner of the shower—and couldn’t see the evil horsefly anywhere. I hit the wall a couple of times with the swatter in order to make him (or her—whatever—makes no difference to me it was SATAN) hear and understand I had returned and was armed. And DANGEROUS. No sign of it/him/her. I put the swatter onto my husband’s sink counter and began to get back in.

IT CAME OUT OF NOWHERE and tried to attack me again! Y’all. I RAN. Grabbed my robe and ran into our bedroom. Screaming. Like a baby.

I. Was. Done. At this point, I decided I could not deal with this vicious insect. I went into our second guest room bathroom and took my shower in there. This third bathroom has two doors. Closed both as soon as I scurried in. I worried he’d/she’d fly in under one of the doors. I rushed my shower as fast as I could.

When I was finished, I went back into our bathroom to get my makeup on and do my hair. (I had a date with My Dear Friend Emily for a pedicure and lunch. I couldn’t miss it.) While finishing up my routine, I kept looking over at the shower. Wondering if he/she was still in there.

MSH got home about 8:20 and asked me why there was a fly swatter on his counter. I told him My Spellbinding Story. When I’d completed My Nightmare Tale, he shook his head and walked away. I couldn’t determine if he thought I’d made the story up or simply judged me to be silly and, well, a big ol’ CHICKEN Girl. Like I cared that he thought I was a out-of-control scaredy-cat.

I left at 9:40 and didn’t get back home until 3:00. At which time, MSH informed me of The Devil Horsefly’s DEATH. He’d kill him moments before I came in the house. I think MSH had a new-found respect for me. (Okay. Not. But at least he confirmed I didn’t dream up The Horrid Horsefly.)

Here’s hoping each of you has a Terrific Thursday manana—full of butterflies, redbirds and beautiful/regal EAGLES. NO HORSEFLIES or flying things that frighten the bejeebies out of you.

SMOOCHES and HUGS, Silly Friends Everywhere…


Saturday, December 9, 2017


I’ve shared my love for and admiration of My Sweet Hubby (MSH) in the past. He is truly, TRULY the best man I’ve ever known. He’s smart. Kind. FUNNY. (Even though he’s the funniest when he doesn’t mean to be and is surprised that I or TLC or anyone else thinks he’s intending to be funny!) Hard-working. Unselfish. Loyal. Dependable. Oh…and HANDSOME. Very handsome.

Now, do you even think we don’t have “issues?” As a couple? Disagree? Even fight? Because we do. Have issues. Disagree. Fight. (Not physically. That cannot and will not happen. Ever.) We’re scarily alike in thousands of ways. And seriously DIFFERENT in hundreds of others.

It took him the first ten years of our 39 years of marriage to learn how to be thoughtful. In terms of celebrations. My birthday. Valentine’s Day. (By the way: He lets me know EVERY February 14th that this holiday completely frustrates him. God love him. He’s determined Hallmark created this nightmare and contributes to his inability to remember this day and to find the best gift(s) for me. Mostly because I don’t want flowers. Or candy. Do I adore both? ABSOLUTELY. Neither lasts, however, and I want gifts that last. Please don't judge me as too witchy. He’s used to my preferences about gifts by now.) Then there's Christmas. His ultimate STRESSOR.

As TLC got older and older, she became his GO-TO Gift-Buying Assistant for me. Together? THEY DO AWESOME. Every year my gifts get better. And better. And BETTER. (Listen...NOT more expensive. Trust me. It is not about the money spent. It's about creativity and originality.) TLC has also become a fantastic source for ME—in trying to come up with special gifts for MSH.

The truth is this: MSH and I don’t need or really want gifts. We’re at the stage of our life where we’re trying to get rid of all of our “stuff.” If you’re young, you will reach this stage. Believe it. I suggest you reach it by your EARLY 50s. Take my (unsolicited) advice: Start purging your home, drawers, closets, storage sheds/units, etc. llooonnnnggggg before you need to. Your energy levels create difficulties when trying to find places for items you’ve purchased over the years (other than the trash/dump). It can get stressful. And, you discover, no one you know...not your children, your grandchildren, your relatives or your friends, wants any of your treasures. Sigh. BUT...TLC will not have it. She refuses to allow us to NOT give each other gifts. Apparently she thinks she's Our Boss.

Gifts of clothes? MSH and I both like to pick out our own. Pretty much. Shoes? Heck, no. Jewelry for moi? Yes—occasionally. I’m not really needing much more jewelry, at this point in my old life. It seems to call attention to parts of me I don’t want people to focus on. Like my neck. My hands. Etc.

I’ve shared all of this preliminary info to lead up to what MSH wanted me to “give” him for Christmas. It was something I could actually accomplish without the help of TLC! (This post will be the first she's hearing of this...)

He asked me to show him how to load music from iTunes onto his iPhone. That's it. That's all. Music. Christian. Christmas. Country. I wasn’t even going to have to pay for it! He is the CUTEST.

We worked on this project/gift last weekend. I got the Christian and Christmas playlists started. We have more to download. We might do more loading later on this GORGEOUS Saturday afternoon in North Central Texas. (If I can get him in the house before I become too pooped.)

When we’re driving each other cRaZy(ier)…when we’re tired and annoyed by each other’s shortcomings…when we’re just needing some breaks from each other's nonsense/whining/groaning/neediness? I try to remind myself how lucky I am. 98% of the time I feel like the LUCKIEST Woman on this Earth. To be married to This Wonderful Man. (The other 2%? I want to roll my eyes while I throw a pillow at him and go get in my bed. Keepin' it real, Friends. Just keepin' it real.)

Gotta scoot…laundry to do…rooms to vacuum…Hallmark Christmas movies to watch!

Y’all have some fun out there this weekend, okay? (If you’re married? In a relationship? Try to remember what made you fall in love with your spouse/partner. Try to be patient. Helpful. Kind. GRATEFUL. Feel how lucky YOU are. It's important. Winky. Wink.)



Tuesday, December 5, 2017

cow visitation

Happy Wednesday Eve, Y’all!

I am recovered! From my horrid cold/sinus infection/whatever-in-the-heck I had. I kept thinking I’d go to the doctor. But I didn’t have to. YIPPEE!!! (Saved myself at least $100. YES.)

Bless My Sweet Hubby’s (aka MSH aka Pa-Pa) heart. A week ago this past Saturday he went to town early EARLY in the morn to purchase this sickly gal some of my treasured tissues. Y'all remember? The ones with lotion and VICKS. I was pretty sure I told him just one box would be sufficient. This is what he came home with:

God love and bless him! Hopefully this doesn’t mean I can get another cold anytime soon. I have ZERO interest in that situation.

So last week, because I was improving health-wise every hour, I got to spend two nights with TLC and The Little Princesses. Then they came Friday to spend the night here at our country casa. Woo Hoo! Felt like it'd been YEARS since their last visit. I do think it'd been over two months.

Little Leighton (aka LL aka Biscuit) and Baby Elle (aka Belle) had not yet seen our two new baby calves (they'd seen Olaf): Baby Belle (yes, named after our second little darlin' granddaughter) and Sven. (Are you realizing Biscuit's Frozen theme here?) They’d seen pictures, of course, but not the babies in person.

So once they arrived around 1:00ish, they boarded the Ranger with Pa-Pa and TLC and went to check out our Mamas and their brood(s?).

Here are a few pictures of their adventure taken by Moi from various spots—our front porch, our driveway, the back porch. A couple were captured by TLC. (Those would be the ones up close and personal!)

Saturday morning, I accompanied Pa-Pa and The Little Princesses back down to the pastures (With no phone. It was wonderful. I could enjoy every second with no distractions.) to find and feed the cows. Once we got back, Buddy Boo Bear and Hunter waited patiently for their friend, MSH, to come from the Barn. When Belle noticed them, she decided she needed to go tell them a couple of things. What were those things? No clue. But she was serious.

MSH and I ADORE our moments/days/nights/times with Our Girls! Nothing—and I mean NOTHING—is better for our hearts and souls than memories created with all of our grandchildren.

Wishing each of you happiness, adventures and sheer JOY tonight, tomorrow and always…