The Old Man Was Snoring...

…in Texas. And, no. Not My Old Man/Sweet Hubby. Not Teddy Buddy Boo Bear, either—although he can saw logs with the best of them.

Snoozing away on his BIG bed!

It rained in Texas this past week! Well, in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area (many other places around our State got significant rain, as well, but this is where TLC and I live). For most of us in our little corner of the World, it was two days of steady, beautiful, nourishing, wonderful, replenishing, MARVELOUS rain!

We had just enough thunder and lightning to cause me to sleep on our couch Tuesday night. Why the couch, you might ask? TBBB is extremely afraid of thunder. We’ve learned he feels better if he can be close to us while he's skeered. He’s closer to us—and we to him—if one of us sleeps on the couch. For some odd and unexplainable reason, I am usually that “one.” Except for a humongously scary CRASH of thunder that sounded like it was close enough to have hit our home early Wednesday morning, it wasn’t what I'd describe as unbearable or spine-tingling thunder. More like "the old man is snoring" kind of thunder. At the end of the day(s), if we only have that kind, and no tornados or tornadic winds, Texans feel truly blessed.

Here, now, is a picture of our previously very, VERY, VERY low Big Tank. Our Front Tank was still overflowing yesterday into a little stream that goes under our road. It was/is all simply FABULOUS!

Happy Catfish!

Dear God:

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your Amazing Grace and for the SWEET RAIN. We are all deeply grateful for your help and gifts. (Just a teensy little reminder: We remain “in the hole.” So to speak. We’re still technically in a drought. PLEASE SEND MORE! ASAP!!!) I remain humble and grateful!

In Jesus’ Name, I pray.

Amen.

Charming Camels

As a teenager and young adult, I often worked with “older” (such a relative term, right?) peeps who called Wednesdays “Hump Day.” Because it was mid-week—and one was getting “over the hump.”  I always kind of giggled when people used that phrase. In fact, there were some creepy guys who made me kind of shiver (and walk away in a hurry) when they said it. Ugh.

Hence, I suggested, about seven years ago, to TLC, that we refer to Wednesday as “Camel Day.” (I have no earthly idea if I heard someone else use this expression. Perhaps. Rest assured I am in NO way attempting to take any kind of credit for coming up with this term.)

In honor of Wednesday, January 25, 2012, I would like to share my Camel Day "Cs" with y’all:

Have a CALM, Careful (but not too), CHALLENGING, Cheerful, CLEAN, Comfy, CONFIDENT, Congenial, CONSIDERATE, Cool, COZY and CUTE kind of day!

Don’t be: CYNICAL, Cutthroat, cRaZy, CRANKY (or Crabby), Capricious (well, maybe just a tidbit!), Clumsy (try to Control your thinking, talking, walking and driving!), Contrary, CLUELESS, CONFUSED, or Chintzy (don’t you just adore that word, even though it’s negative?).

Do be: CAPTIVATING, CHARITABLE, Cerebral, CERTAIN, Childlike, CHIPPER, Clear, COMPASSIONATE, Compelling, COOPERATIVE, Courteous, CHARMING, CREATIVE, and Curious (like George).

Try to eat: Chicken Cacciatore, CLAMS (no clams, however, for moi), Crispy CRUNCHY Cinnamon COOKIES (or Chocolate Chip? I hear the Girl Scouts have some fabulous COCONUT CARAMEL delites!), Carrots, COBBLER (not my Cat—CHERRY Cobbler), Cranberries, CANTALOUPES, Crumpets, and, of course, CUPCAKES! (less CARBOHYDRATES and CALORIES—for better health—darn).

Wash all of that down with: a COCKTAIL Concoction, CHIANTI, Coffee, COGNAC, Coke, a COSMOPOLITAN, Champagne, and/or Crown (or wear a crown! ha!).

Learn More About: the CIRCUS, Capricorns, CHEETAHS (not just the Cheeto Cheetah, either), CANOES (Canoe Canoe? Seniors remember this commercial), Clarinets, CARIBOU, Clouds, COBRAS (yikes!), CONCERTOS, Congress, CACTUS, Coyotes, CROCODILES, Caballeros, CELLOS, Calligraphy, and Cardinals (the real birds).

Plan a Visit to: Cancun, CHINATOWN (in San Fran, CALIFORNIA), your local COLLEGE, Cape Cod, CHARLESTON, any big CITY, the CANARY Islands or the CARIBBEAN, Cheyenne (nuff said), CLEVELAND, Costa Rica, and/or Cinderella’s Castle!

DON’T smoke a CIGAR. Seriously—that could be a CALAMITY. Don’t have a CONNIPTION. Fit.

Wear your hair in a CURLY Coiffure. Go to the CINEMA. Be a good CITIZEN. Have COURAGE. Wear a COSTUME (why not?) and Chanel No. 5 Cologne. Collect COMEDY CDs. CONSOLE someone. Contemplate and CONTINUE. Cuddle! Be a CLOWN. Be CLASSY. Chuckle. Out loud and for no apparent reason.

Play CHESS. Have CONVICTION. COMMUNICATE, Commit, CONCENTRATE, Curtsy (if you run into a Princess or Queen), Consult, CONNECT, COLOR (outside the lines), Conserve, COORDINATE and make CONTACT (with a friend from your past?). Wear something Chenille or a CAFTAN or a Cashmere Chapeau. COPE. Clip COUPONS. Do a CARTWHEEL. Do the ChaCha! Like CHARO. Take your Calcium. CLIMB—every mountain.

Take a CHANCE. Be the CHANGE. Chitchat. Have CHUTZPAH.

COUNT your CABOODLES (the whole kit and)… CELEBRATE (every breath you get to take)…

CONGRATULATIONS—this is COMPLETE.

Chop Chop and CIAO!

Peggy (Not Sue)

I've always been fascinated by commercials. Television. Radio. Print. I had a minor in marketing when I got my business degree. A thousand years ago. It meant I had 12 hours in “marketing” classes. Six were “Sales.” I hated sales. Three were a “Public Relations" course. Sort of okay. Three were in “Consumer Behavior.” That class fascinated me. Studying why people like what they do. What kind of advertising they might respond to—particularly as “groups.” Women. Men. Teens. Children. It was actually about psychology. I adore psychology! Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out what to do with that tiny amount of “consumer behavior” knowledge when I graduated and moved to Fort Worth. So I did nothing. Except “behave.” Right. Yes, yes I did behave. Like a ‘consumer.” I’m very well-behaved, as a matter of fact and thank you very much.

Being a Baby Boomer (Hubby keeps insisting he’s a BB—alas, he’s not—misses it by a few years, bless his heart), I grew up with commercials attacking me from all sides—about 14/7. We all listened to radio in our cars, at home and work. There were some very clever radio and television commercials when I was in junior high and high school. There were several I really liked. There were okay ones. Then there were bad ones. REALLY bad ones. Often, as we watched television in the evenings or on the weekends, we’d (and by “we” I mean everyone in my family—kids and parents, alike) race to do chores or a homework assignment or make a quick phone call while the commercials were on. Sometimes we’d really like a particular commercial and wouldn't want to miss it—so we’d have to wait until the next go-round to rush, oh, say, to the powder room. {Remember, Younguns, we didn’t have the ability to record a show and then back it up. If you missed a favourite, and no one could tell you what happened, you had to pray you’d see the “re-run." Otherwise you were out of luck. Period.}

Clearly, video recorders changed the game. You could record a show—or several—and fast forward through the commercials when you watched it/them that night. (Thus began my obsession with not wasting time watching commercials. Especially bad ones. I’m actually quite a fanatic. It drives Hubby a little over the edge. He's not nearly as fast as I've become with the remote.) “Back in the day,”many of us watched our recorded  “stories” at night, after dinner. I was hooked on All My Children!

The Super Bowl also gradually altered the way we all viewed commercials. If you didn’t have a favourite team competing, you could (and still can!) at least anticipate and enjoy the high-priced commercials. “This year, an ad during the Super Bowl will cost one million dollars for a sixty-second ‘spot,’” Dan Rather would report on the national news. We’d respond: “Huh? What did he just say? Is that for real?” Singular “real.” We didn’t do “reals.”

Don’t most of us love the Budweiser commercials? Especially those with Clydesdales? A few of the car makers have delightfully entertaining commercials. Last year’s little fella who thought he was starting his parents’ car? Priceless. I’m smiling now because I can see him. Absolutely precious. They probably paid several million dollars for that sixty seconds, right?

The Discover commercials with “Peggy” have always tickled me. The first few times I see a new one? I’m laughing out loud. After I’ve seen the newest one several times? I’m STILL laughing out loud. Backing it up to watch it again. And again.

About two years ago, as I was leaving my downtown office early one winter evening, I called Sunny’s home phone number to ask her a question. A male voice picked up (her Hubby answers their home phone 7 out of 10 times during the evening—you could almost place a big bet on this) and immediately said: “This is Peggy.” I was startled and tres confused. It sounded like Sunny’s Hubby. What did he say? I was certain I hadn’t dialed wrong. I’d been dialing that number, at that point, for about 25 years.

“Hey,” the deep, male voice asked, when he realized I apparently wasn’t going to respond. “Haven’t you seen that commercial?”

Awww. Yep. I have, Sunny’s Silly Hubby. Trickin’ me. Again. He’d seen my name on Caller ID.

I’ve been calling him Peggy ever since. For the first few weeks after this happened, Sunny would ask: “Who are you talking about?” “Your husband. Peggy,” I’d howl. Now she calls him Peggy, too—frequently! Or “Mr. Clorox Wipes.” Another story for another time, perhaps.

Peggy is a good man. Funny. Smart. Kind. A great husband. (He calls Sunny “Princess.” Every day. Even when he’s not in trouble. Awesome.) A great Dad and Grandfather (Nelly and her brothers can testify to this fact). A great friend. Not too long ago, I met Sunny at her beautiful house for lunch. I brought the two of us Quizno sandwiches (unfortunately, we don’t have a Potbelly’s, TLC!). I didn’t even ask if Peggy would be home. When I walked in the front door, there he was. In their kitchen. With a great big surprised look on his face. (He, like TLC and My Sweet Hubby, could often qualify for an Oscar!) “You didn’t bring me a sandwich? Thanks. Thanks, a lot.” He feigned hurt and gave me the hardest time. In his cute way. I felt awful. I still do. He’d definitely have gotten me one, if the situation was reversed.

In a couple of weeks, if “Discover Peggy” has an ad during the Super Bowl, and I hope he does, I’ll be thinking of Sunny’s Dear Man. Not Buddy Holly Or Peggy Sue.

ttfn!…have a WONDERFUL week ...

A Yummy For Y'all!

It's been awhile since my last Yummy. I thought it was high time for another. Because of Sweet Baby C, my "likes and dislikes" seem to change as quickly as Kim Kardashian's marital status. However, one thing has remained the same throughout this pregnancy thus far: my complete adoration of Potbelly Sandwiches. I crave them. Constantly. I did long before the new resident in my uterus moved in (but now it’s literally 24/7).

Here's why:

1. They are beyond fresh. The veggies are always crisp. The bread: warm and toasty. Never stale.

2. They pair perfectly with my favorite Salt & Vinegar chips.

3. Two words: HOT. PEPPERS. (ELC ate hot sauce at least three times a week while pregnant with me. She was feeding me Pace Picante by the time I was eighteen months old. Please don't tell either one of us there’s anything wrong with this. PLEASE.)

4. One can combine mayo AND mustard. (Okay. That’s not such an unusual thing. I do realize I can do this at Subway. And Quiznos. Be nice. I’m pregnant. I cry easily.) Listen, it's not just yellow mustard. It’s brown and a teensy bit spicy. Sigh.

5. One can have the bread "thinly sliced," which makes me feel a little less guilty for having them add that extra mayo. One can also get a “Skinny” with less meat. ( I don't see me doing this anytime soon, but, believe me, anytime I can even use the word “skinny” is a happy moment for me.)

Hubby is worried I'm going to get burned out. I'm currently dining there at least four times a week. (My  record to date? Five. And, yes, I understand I should cook/eat at home more often.) If he would let me, we'd eat dinner there every night. I remind him it's better to crave semi-healthy sandwiches than fried chicken. So, there. (It really is, isn't it?)

If you've never had a Potbelly Sandwich, I recommend you get thee to one of their establishments ASAP. You will not be disappointed.

Maybe if I go there often enough... they'll name a sandwich after me...