The Crab Chronicles

Saturday In Decatur

We were very blessed today to have absolutely beautiful weather -the high must've been in the low 70's. We also had a gorgeous blue sky. I could not stay inside on a day like today.

Coco has been gnawing her front foot for days now, so Mike and I took her to the vet this morning. Turns out, the last time we took her there to get her toenails clipped they didn't do a very good job - two nails weren't clipped at all. So the vet herself clipped Coco this morning. Coco shook a bit - she is always scared - and peed on the floor - but otherwise she was fine. She likes me to hold her.

I wore an old shirt. Mike had to change his shirt right after we got Coco to the car, before we'd left, because he'd been holding Coco and she pooped on him a tiny bit. I refrained from saying Dude, if you ever become a dad you can expect more of that.  I didn't want him to think that through too much.

I have this silly notion that I want grandchildren, one day.

I don't care if they poop on my shirt, as long as it's not a daily occurrence.

Poop happens. [My nickname for Coco is Coco-poo, for a good reason.]

We came home and discussed options for the afternoon. Mother didn't sleep well last night, so she wasn't up for going anywhere.

I decided to check out a place called Farm Burger. I love a good hamburger, homemade. I took the kids. It's in downtown Decatur, which is about 20 minutes away. Decatur's a very fun place, lots of little shops and good restaurants, and an eclectic group of people. I love people watching.

People watching is much more fun than watching sports, IMHO.

The hamburgers were excellent, if a little pricey. The drawback was it was very crowded - but it was Saturday afternoon, so duh. We shared a long picnic take with three other folks. Mike sulked because he doesn't like crowds. Alesia was happy because they had WiFi and she takes her iPod everywhere she goes.I was happy because there was prime people watching in there.

Alesia took one bite of her burger and said "I can taste the grass."

I asked her what grass tasted like. She looked at me, totally surprised. "You know, grass. Everyone eats grass when they're little, right?!"

Michael and I have never eaten grass.

I've had some salads I really didn't care for, but no grass. Lawns are safe around me.

[My brother, OTOH, ate an entire sandbox one summer, a little at a time of course. He obviously needed fiber in his diet. He also ate pennies, and Mother's high school class ring. When he went to the bathroom there were always interesting sounds there... but I digress..]

My burger was yummy. No grass taste. It had cheddar cheese, caramelized onions, and some sort of spicy sauce. The french fries were real. We got a bucket - it was about 2 cups maybe, not a bucket like in a movie theater, which is a good thing. I would've put my face in it and totally embarrassed the kids.

So this is what the restaurant looked like. The white blob there on the left is Alesia. I am so proud of myself for taking a photo and figuring out how to send it to myself!! For a technophobe like me this is amazing. I only got a phone with a camera a couple of years ago.

After we had eaten, we went over to downtown Decatur and walked around a bit. Below you see me and Mike. Alesia refused to let me take her photo.I don't care if my hair looks weird and I am fishbelly white. I need to return with my good camera and take more photos there, and near the old courthouse, a very scenic area.

There were some small girls selling Girl Scout cookies. They had set up a table on the sidewalk. I wish I had taken a photo. They were so funny.They looked about 6 years old.

I bought a box of Tagalongs. I asked the girls after I bought them, "Are there any Girl Scouts in these cookies?!" and they shook their heads solemnly. "Nooooo...." [The mama was laughing]

They were shy, until an older man came over and said to them "You've got to SELL those cookies, girls! Tell everyone how wonderful they ARE!"He demonstrated his sales techniques.

So then the girls took off skipping down the sidewalk saying to everyone, with great excitement, "HEY!! BUY SOME COOKIES!"

So cute.

One box of cookies provided dessert for all of us for $3.50, which would've only bought one dessert at the restaurant, so it was a bargain. We ate them in the car.

Then I came home and took a nap.

So we've had a pretty liesurely day, and that's a very good thing.

Differently Abled

I don't think a whole lot about my son being an amputee, because it has so little impact on our daily lives. I help him tie his shoes and sometimes help him with other small tasks, but that's about it. He can tie his shoes himself, but if we're in a hurry I just tie them for him.

I was rudely reminded recently that he is regarded as "handicapped" by ignorant folks who don't know him. He tried out for a little league baseball team a couple of weeks ago and I was called and told he had not made the team because he couldn't field the ball quickly enough. I had watched him hit line drive after line drive when he was up at bat. I couldn't believe this guy was telling me Michael wasn't good enough to be on the team. I could barely restrain my temper. "If he had a chance to be on a team, he would get better at fielding. It's because he hasn't had the practice doing it, or anybody showing him how, that's the only reason he couldn't throw as far as the other boys, or as fast." I was shaking when I hung up. I was SO upset.

For one of the very few times in my life, I felt deep regret at being a single mom. I cannot teach my son how to throw. I don't know how, and even if I did, I couldn't show him because of my deformed shoulder. Mother and I asked Michael the next morning how he felt about not making the team, and he shrugged and said it didn't matter. He seemed very blase, but I knew he was upset. The second team in a few weeks had rejected him. I asked him if he wanted to go out for pony league [which doesn't require a tryout] and he said no. There's a large church nearby that has a big sports program and their baseball team is highly regarded, but the fees are $165 and I simply don't have it.

I showed Michael this video about an adopted Chinese girl who is a triathlete, and his only remark was "That's cool."

If Michael had a more obvious limb difference I could probably find some grant money somewhere so he could compete in athletic events with other amputees. He wants to compete with folks who have all 4 limbs, though, and in that he will always be seen as not quite good enough.

As much as it hurts to watch Alesia go through the dating rituals, it hurts a lot more to see Michael struggle to compete and find acceptance. I am at a total loss as to what to do.

He loves sports, but at 14, kids in sports now on school teams are so good, he can't compete. Maybe if I'd gotten him started at 5 or 6 it would've made a difference. Then his soccer/baseball/basketball skills might be where they need to be.

His tennis team is practicing now but it's a very young and inexperienced team and I doubt they will have a winning season. I fought hard to make the team a reality, though, so he would have SOME sport he could play.I am the co-captain.

He doesn't like running because after he runs a short while he gets a pain in his chest. I have no idea why. I don't know anything about running. The last time I mentioned it to the doctor, he didn't think it was a big deal.

I bet Mike would be a good golfer, but I can't afford that sport.

He could play on the church basketball team with Colton but Michael says no, he doesn't want to. He's still small for his age and shooting baskets is a challenge, with or without a prosthetic.

I don't want him to give up.

Every time he starts anything new, he wears his prosthetic until the other kids get used to seeing him, then after a time he will go without it and hope they don't comment.

The other day at tennis practice, one of the new players on the team was horsing around and whacked him pretty hard on his left hand. I was so ticked. He has ONE hand, and this kid hit him? His thumb was swollen and red. Then the kids who hit him didn't apologize. I seriously wanted to call the child's mother, but Michael asked me not to. He never wants to feel different or call attention to his missing hand.

Growing up as a fat kid, I totally understand that. I totally sympathize with not wanting to seem different or weird.

I am sort of in a quandary. I am praying about it.

Here he is on the tennis court in September 2008, just a couple of months after he started playing.

Here he is at the Adventure Amputee Camp last summer.

Y'all Come on to Atlanta

I have lived in Atlanta for over 18 years and I have no intention of ever living anywhere else. I can, however, laugh about my city. I have seen variations of the email below but this one is the most funny, IMHO.

This is for anyone who lives in Atlanta, Georgia, has ever lived in Atlanta, has ever visited Atlanta, ever plans to visit Atlanta, knows anyone who already lives in Atlanta, or knows anyone who has ever heard of Atlanta.

Atlanta is composed mostly of one-way streets. The only way to get out of downtown Atlanta, is to turnaround and start over when you reach Greenville, South Carolina.
 
All directions start with, "Go down Peachtree" and include the phrase, "When you get to the Waffle House." except if you happen to be in Cobb County, where all directions begin with, "Keep going until you get to the Big Chicken."

Peachtree Street has no beginning, and no end, and is not to be confused with:
Peachtree Circle
Peachtree Place
Peachtree Lane
Peachtree Road
Peachtree Parkway
Peachtree Run
Peachtree Terrace
Peachtree Avenue
Peachtree Commons
Peachtree Battle
Peachtree Corners
New Peachtree
Old Peachtree
West Peachtree
Peachtree-Dunwoody
Peachtree-Chamblee
Peachtree Industrial Boulevard
[46 streets have Peachtree in their name]
 
Atlantans only know their way to work and their way home.  If you ask anyone for directions, they will always send you down Peachtree.

Atlanta is the home of Coca-Cola.  Coke is all they drink there so don't ask for any other soft drink unless it's made by Coca-Cola.  Even if you want something other than a Coca-Cola, it's still called Coke.

The gates at Atlanta 's Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport are about 32 miles away from the Main Concourse, so wear sneakers and pack a lunch.

The 8 a.m. rush hour is from 6:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m.

The 5 p.m. rush hour is from 3:00 p.m. to 7:30 pm.  (Don't forget the lunch time rush hour!)

Friday's rush hour starts Thursday afternoon and lasts through 2 a.m. Saturday.

Only a native can pronounce Ponce De Leon Avenue, so do not attempt the Spanish pronunciation. People will simply tilt their heads to the right and stare at you.  The Atlanta pronunciation is " pawntz duh LEE-awn."

And yes, they have a street named simply, "Boulevard."

The falling of one raindrop causes all drivers to immediately forget all traffic rules.  If a single snowflake falls, the city is paralyzed for three days and it's on all the channels as a news flash every 15 minutes for a week.  Overnight, all grocery stores will be sold out of milk, bread, bottled water, toilet paper, and beer.

I-285, is the interstate loop that encircles Atlanta.  It has a posted speed limit of 55 mph, but you have to maintain 80 mph just to keep from getting run over, and is known to truckers as "The Watermelon 500."

Don't believe the directional markers on highways:  I-285 is marked "East" and "West" but you may actually be going North or South at any given time. The locals identify the direction by referring to the "Inner Loop" and the "Outer Loop ."

If you travel on Hwy 92 North, you will actually be going southeast.

Never buy a ladder or mattress in Atlanta.  Just get on one of the interstates and you will soon find one in the middle of the road. [Sometimes you find chickens, cows, or margarine...]

The last thing you want to do is give another driver the finger, unless your car is armored, your trigger finger is itchy and your AK-47 has a full clip.

Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air.

If you are standing outdoors and notice a vine trying to wrap itself around your leg, you have about 20 seconds to escape, before you are completely captured and covered with Kudzu.

It's not a shopping cart, it's a buggy.

"Fixinto" is one word (I'm fixinto go to the store) - also can be pronounced "Fixinta".

Sweet Tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're 2 years old.

"Jeet?" is actually a phrase meaning "Did you eat?"

"How's Momma-nem" means: "How's Mother and all of the other children and other members of the family doing?"

Now if you understand these jokes, forward them to your friends from Atlanta, Georgia, and those who just wish they were.

 

 I tried to copy the image that went with this but it didn't work. It was of one of those electronic overhead signs on the interstate and it was snowing. The sign said OH MY GOD! IS THAT SNOW? WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE! - very accurate. LOL

Where I live, we don't give directions by the Big Chicken.

Nope, we give directions like "go until you see the mountain" [Stone Mountain]

I have climbed that mountain and ridden the funicular. It's truly a spectacular view at the top. You can almost see the Big Chicken...

 

 

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today...

Every once in a while I stumble across some old photos and I think, why did I hate these photos? I didn't look that bad. Such was the case yesterday when I broke open a small chest of drawers and found this little photo album made twenty years ago.

It wasn't actually twenty years ago TODAY, but it was in the spring of 1991. [I just like that Beatles song, K?!]

My parents were getting ready to move back to Augusta. They had left Augusta in 1971 when my father was offered a job with Valley Bank in Knoxville. Dad stayed in Knoxville for 20 years, and I went from 3rd grade through high school there, before returning to Georgia for college.

Around 1988 Dad took early retirement from the bank, and proceeded to drive Mother nuts. He wasn't good at retirement. He didn't have anyone to boss around. So he took another bank job in Knoxvegas for a while, but hated it, because he wasn't running the trust department in that bank. Then he got a call in early 1991 asking him if he'd be interested in returning to Augusta to take back his old job at the same bank he'd left in 1971. He was interested. They made preparations to move.

Mother was not happy about the move, because she liked their house they'd built on the lake in Knoxville, and it was just stressful for a variety of reasons. Moving is always stressful, to me. However, she knew Dad needed to get back into his career and stay busy. So they ended up buying a beautiful house in Augusta with a pool, in a nice neighborhood, and things were OK there until my dad got cancer.

Anyway, going back to 1991. One of my dad's former employees who was also a close friend, Sharon, threw a party for Mom and Dad at her swanky house on the river in Knoxville. All the close friends and colleagues were invited. These are from that evening.

I had tried to do something different with my hair, and failed utterly. I also chose a shade of makeup that was way too pale. I look like I just got out of a crypt...

The guy with glasses on my right side was Ed Ware, who was Mom and Dad's next door neighbor for 14 years, and a very nice man. He was a heart surgeon. When my dad had a heart attack in 1983 Ed came over and saved Dad's life.

Dad had broken his left arm in a car accident months before but it wouldn't heal. He saw specialists, did everything he could, to no avail for a while. It finally healed. Mother and the doctor speculated later that Dad may have already had the cancer in his system and it impeded the healing.

Dad died in 1996.Last Tuesday would've been his and Mom's 54th wedding anniversary.

Just after these photos were made, in July of 1991, my daughter Alesia was born, on the other side of the world. As you can see, she wasn't born from my body, but I feel like she was certainly born in my heart. It just took some time for us to find each other.

One week after my dad died in 1996, my son was born.

It's the Circle of Life. [Can you name that movie?!]

Anyway, I don't have much to share today, so I thought I'd just reminisce a bit.

They Know Me There

I sometimes wonder if people come here thinking my blog is about crabs, or the seafood industry, or perhaps they think I am a scientist studying crabs.

I do like to eat crab cakes, but that's where the seafood resemblance ends.

I've only done basically two things today. I went to Kroger, and I wrote.

I let Mike sleep late because he hasn't been feeling good lately, and I figured he needed the sleep. So the whole day was thrown off whack by that. We didn't eat breakfast until almost 10.

By the time we finished with Kroger, picked up Alesia from a friend's house where she spent the night, and unloaded and put away the groceries, suddenly I looked at the clock and it was 4:00. I was shocked.

"WHERE has the day gone?!" I said, horrified.

So while Mother napped I worked on my book. I have been engrossed in it all afternoon and early evening. I will likely never be able to sell this book, but it's a fun distraction for me. Job hunting gets really OLD after a few months. In writing, I lose myself and don't think about my troubles for a while.

I was telling the kids about the book tonight at dinner. It's an adventure book but there are fantasy elements to it. I expounded on an obscure reference for a few minutes. Then, there was dead silence. Michael finally said carefully "You just live in your own little world, don't you Mom?!" Even I had to laugh.

I used to wish I had the guts to wear a tee shirt I saw once that said "I live in my own little world. It's OK, they know me there."

Since I have some crazy people on both sides of my family, I figured it would be in poor taste to wear that shirt.

Michael and I spent last night after dinner watching Gandhi. He said he wouldn't like it and he REALLY didn't want to watch it. I argued that he's studying India right now in Social Studies, so it's relevant. He was enthralled, needless to say. It's a terrific movie. I told Michael that Gandhi was a big influence on Martin Luther King, and so his life affected SO many lives, not just in India but all over the world. The concepts of Civil Disobedience and imperialism were much easier to explain as we watched the movie.

When Alesia came home I told her we had watched Gandhi. "I saw that movie. Good movie." I asked her if she knew who Gandhi was, what he looked like. I knew she was mistaken. "Yeah, big guy. Wore a cowboy hat," she said, annoyed.

Gandhi in a cowboy hat. There's a thought.

Never did discover what movie she had seen...

Cuddling or Restraint?

I was too wiped out to post last night and this morning it was a madhouse around here.Lots going on, good and bad. (I know you're wondering about the title; keep reading and it will eventually make sense.)

I had a 9:45 job interview for an editor position for a book publisher. I'm sure 9:45 doesn't sound like a big deal to those of you who are working folks, but it was tough for me.I don't drop Michael off at school until 8:45.

Alesia ate breakfast and came upstairs and threw it all up. Her stomach issues are omnipresent. She was able to go to school, though. Coco had several accidents that I had to deal with, and Michael was his usual dawdling self, and it was one thing after another. My usual morning.

Then I had to try and figure out what to wear to the interview and which of my publications to take.

A short time later, I got to Buckhead and couldn't find the building.

Buckhead, for those unfamiliar with Atlanta, is our version of Rodeo Drive. We have Saks, Nieman Marcus, many enormous office buildings and plush hiugh rise condos, and swanky hotels like the InterContinental. Also we have part of the road torn up at the moment, to further distract me.I avoid Buckhead whenever possible. I don't like the traffic, the noise, any of it. I hate to shop. I hate crowds. now, if I am working in Buckhead I go and work and leave, and it's no big deal, but trying to find things there on a rare occasion is no fun.

The interview went well, after I finally got there, but that's about all I can say here. If it works out into something I will say more.

Mother got some terrible news yesterday afternoon. A dear friend of hers, Rosemary, died, after a short hospitalization. Rosemary was a retired psychologist and just a warm, friendly, caring person, and she and Mother were close. They maintained a close friendship even after Mother came over here to live with me in 2005. Despite not being able to get together in person, they spoke on the phone often, and sent each other cards and little gifts. Rosemary had known my dad, too. So her loss leaves a big hole in Mom's life.

There are several other friends of Mother's who are in various states of precarious health, and it's scary. Mom has lost several friends in the past few years. She's 77, so I suppose it's a normal thing, but still painful. It pains me to see Mother grieving.

So my way of dealing with things is, I cook. I came home and checked emails, then I made homemade spaghetti sauce and it's in the crock pot now, and I have two loaves of Spiced Pumpkin Bread in the oven.

I have a cousin who sent me a very funny email and I copied it below. You might as well laugh rather than cry; laughing is a lot better. That's pretty much our family motto.

Paraprosdokian  sentences:

A paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way that causes the reader or listener to reframe or reinterpret the first part.  It is frequently used for humorous or dramatic effect ... see below .....

Ø   I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way.  So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.

Ø    Do not argue with an idiot.  He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

Ø    Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

Ø    The last thing I want to do is hurt you.  But it's still on the list.

Ø    Light travels faster than sound.  This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

Ø    If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.

Ø    We never really grow up; we only learn how to act in public.

Ø    War does not determine who is right -- only who is left.

Ø    Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Ø    The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

Ø    Evening news is where they begin with 'Good evening,' and then proceed to tell you why it isn't.

Ø    To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism.  To steal from many is research.

Ø    How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

Ø   I  thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted paychecks.

Ø    Whenever I fill out an application, in the part that says "If an emergency, notify:" I put "DOCTOR."

Ø    Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

Ø    Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a beer gut and still think they are sexy.

Ø    Why do Americans choose from just two people to run for president and 50 for Miss America ?

Ø    Behind every successful man is his woman.  Behind the fall of a successful man is usually another woman.

Ø    A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

Ø    You do not need a parachute to skydive.  You only need a parachute to skydive twice.

Ø    The voices in my head may not be real, but they have some good ideas!

Ø    Always borrow money from a pessimist.  He won't expect it back.

Ø    A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you will look forward to the trip

Ø    Hospitality:  making your guests feel like they're at home, even if you wish they were.

Ø    Money can't buy happiness, but it sure makes misery easier to live with.

Ø    Some cause happiness wherever they go.  Others whenever they go.

Ø    There's a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can't get away. [this one is my favorite]

Ø    I used to be indecisive.  Now I'm not sure.

Ø    When tempted to fight fire with fire, remember that the Fire Department usually uses water.

Ø    You're never too old to learn something stupid.

Ø    To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.

Ø    Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

Ø    If you are supposed to learn from your mistakes, why do some people have more than one child?

Cold Enough For Ya?!

I saw this funny email and had to chuckle. Substitute the word "Kazakhstan" for "Minnesota" and you get an idea of why I struggle to get my son to wear a coat when it's 20 degrees outside.

Now I have to go to Kroger and buy bread and milk because the weatherman is saying we MIGHT get less than an inch of snow tonight. I have to go to the store, and do battle with the panic-stricken hordes. It's the law. Here's the math:

snow prediction + Atlanta = crazy people in the grocery store and at Home Depot

COLD  IS A RELATIVE THING....

  65  above zero:
Floridians turn on the heat.
 People in Minnesota plant gardens.
 
 
  60  above zero:
Californians shiver uncontrollably.
 People in Minnesota sunbathe.
 
 
  50  above zero:
Italian & English cars won't start.
 People in Minnesota drive with the windows down.
 
 
  40  above zero:
Georgians don coats, thermal underwear, gloves, wool hats. [and complain constantly]
People in Minnesota throw on a flannel shirt.
 
 
  35  above zero:
New York landlords finally turn up the heat.
People in Minnesota have the last cookout before it gets cold.
 
 
  20  above Zero
People in Miami all die.
 Minnesotans close the windows.
 
 
  Zero:
Californians fly away to Mexico.
 People in Minnesota get out their winter coats.
 
 
  10  below zero:
Hollywood disintegrates.
The Girl Scouts in Minnesota are selling cookies door to door.
 
20  below zero:
Washington DC runs out of hot air.
 People in Minnesota let the dogs sleep indoors.
 
 
  30  below zero:
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
 Minnesotans get upset because they can't start the Snowmobile.
 
 
  40  below zero:
ALL atomic motion stops.
 People in Minnesota start saying... "Cold  enough fer ya? "
 
 
  50  below zero:
Hell freezes over.
 Minnesota public schools will open 2 hours late.

 

Margarine, James Madison and Me

My son was late to school today because of margarine. Yep, the nasty substance that's one molecule different from plastic, caused it.

How? You wonder, I'm sure. Simple. In I-285, the 4-8 lane interstate that encircles Atlant like a great redneck racetrack, was the scene this morning of a terrible accident. The car hit a semi carrying tubs of margarine. The truck's load was dumped all over the interstate and margarine was everywhere, wreaking havoc.You can see the whole story here. As the news folks said, margarine is basically just oil, and so it turned the crash site into a huge grease fire.

Traffic was block both ways for hours. I took Alesia to school this morning and got caught in it coming back. I didn't get home in time to make Michael's breakfast. So his whole morning routine was thrown off and he was nearly late to school.

It was chilling to watch the news video and see the driver of the car that hit the truck was 19 years old. He was driving the wrong way down the interstate. It was 12:30 at night. I said a prayer for his family.

This proves that margarine is better than butter, and 19 year olds shouldn't be allowed to drive on the interstate.

Michael had a strange day yesterday, as he witnessed two girls fighting in one of his classes. The teacher had left the room. Michael wasn't involved in any way in the fight. He said some of the kids around the girls were egging them on, though, and they got in trouble. Michael goes to a middle school considered the best public middle school in the country. Yet, he doesn't like to go into the boys' bathroom due to all the fights, and there are police all over the school. It's a frustrating situation for him and me. I wish I could afford to send him to private school.

I had a disappointing day yesterday. I got word I didn't get the job I had interviewed for on Sunday. The only positive was that I did get a call from a recruiter about another job. I've gotten several calls from recruiters lately. Let's home one of those jobs comes through.

(I think I probably lost out on that job because I said I don't like football. Or maybe it was because I asked him if he had a cold beer handy. Hey, it was Sunday!?)

Just kidding.

Alesia complained to me yesterday after school that she was tired of guys constantly telling her "Why are all Russian girls so hot?" I told her the perfect answer would be to smile and say "Actually, I'm butt ugly but I wear a LOT of makeup!" but she doesn't want to be that caustic. She says she has just answered "Well, not ALL Russian girls are hot." I think she needs a better comeback. I am stumped as to how to help her. Any ideas? Here are some of the suggestions I got from a Facebook posting:

• On behalf of 78 million Russian women, thank you. (don't deflect. just accept and move on).
• "Because we wear warm coats?"
• "It's from our diet of cabbage rolls." 
• Eyerolling is the most effective response to second-rate pickup line. (I told Alesia any guy using that lame line is an idiot and she should avoid him.)
• Say, "I am not from Russia, I am from Italy. Confuse them."

Here are some more things I am trying to distract myself with this morning, as I battle a horrible sinus headache:

• I have some rather unorthodox beliefs but I do not believe in witches. If you are a witch, no offense. I believe in your right to do whatever you want, as long as you don't harm animals or people, but I don't believe in your powers. However, that may just be because I am not Romanian. In Romania, apparently, witches are taken very seriously. The government has intervened, even. Politicians plus witchcraft? There's a winning combination.
• I find US Presidents really intriguing. Therefore I was tickled to see 99 Facts about US Presidents. I never knew Abe Lincoln was a licensed bartender or Grover Cleveland was a hangman. Both seemed to have well prepared them for the presidency. It may sound like a boring link, but trust me, some of the entries are pretty funny.
• I was particularly intrigued by the fact about James Madison. We have a lot in common. Reports say Madison was 5'3 3/4 or 5'4. He was Episcopalian, and he was from Virginia so he was southern. He adopted his wife Dolley's son from her first marriage. I am 5'4, Episcopalian, Southern, and I have an adopted son. So while I have always cursed my lack of height, now I can't blame it for anything any more. Drat.

I wonder if his friends called him J-MAD?!?

I think he was hot. I always tell my kids "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size in the fight in the dog," or DAWG, I should say...

Blogging for Fun

Ever wanted to tell someone off, in public?

I was reading a friend's blog and she was expressing some frustration at not being able to blog about some personal issues, for fear of upsetting her friends and loved ones. Her blog is very funny and I admire that a lot. I understand her reluctance to vent, though. Too much bad karma could be put out there. Too much potential for hurt feelings, and possibly litigation.

So I came up with a brilliant idea, I think.

There's no money involved, but I am pondering the idea of starting another blog, one that would be completely and totally anonymous, and asking for anonymous contributions. I can think of lots of names for it - The Spleen Vent, The Piss and Moan Club, The Pity Party, etc. / Get the idea?

I wouldn't care about SEO Optimization or Twitter feeds, or monetization, or links to anything. It would just be a place to vent.

I would have to have rules, though. Hmmm... Probably would be a good idea to make sure there were no real names used. Also, I would need to maintain some creative control. Just posting some inane stuff saying "He's an asshole" wouldn't be my goal. I'd love to see some sort of bitingly funny criticism, but I might settle for something at least sincere with all the words spelled right. I'd limit word count, too.And no profanity. It shows a lack of imagination and is, of course, tacky.

There's no reason a poisoned pen can't be tasteful.

I have, on more than one occasion, written a letter to a friend/boyfriend/boss and told them off. I never sent the letters of course, but it felt good to vent.

So, to see if I can attract some folks to read this little post, I am going to blatantly go for the search engine optimization here:

• Can you type?
• Have you ever wanted to just write a scathing letter to someone but had nowhere to post it?
• Ever wanted to tell off the boss? An old boyfriend? An old girlfriend? A lover?
• Do you hate jerks? Want to get revenge? Tell them off?
• Do you hate a particular TV show and want to tell the writers where they went wrong?
• Want to tell your mom or dad where to go?
• Need therapy but can't afford it?
• Ever wanted to slap someone's face but can't afford to do the jail time for assault?
• Like, seriously Dude?!
• Seriously?! [I am going for the 12-25 readership there - "seriously" is their favorite word.]

IF the answer to any of the above questions is YES, leave me a comment here. If I get at least 15 comments, I will start the blog. I won't get to post anything I've written, but I WILL start a new blog, just for fun, and accept guest posts.

Seriously.

How to Cook Asparagus

My brother sent me an email asking me how to cook asparagus. This is one of my favorite vegetables and I know several ways to cook it that are yummy. Below is what I told him.

Here's a tip Mother and I learned from watching Julia Child. Do not use a knife to cut off the tough ends. Take each stalk and break it where it naturally breaks in two, and toss the end stalk into the compost bucket. Using this method, you will never have to try and chew the tough stalk.

Wash your asparagus. I like to hold the tip under running water for a moment to get out any dirt.

Methods of preparing:

I like to boil it for a few minutes until it's crispy tender, then toss it with some butter and lemon or lime juice.

OR you can toss it with some olive oil, garlic, and feta cheese.

OR you can place it in a dish and drizzle olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic powder or fresh garlic, and some parmesan cheese [get decent parmesan, not the canned crap]. Roast it in a 400 degree oven for 10-20 minutes, depending on how soft you want it.

OR you can take an onion and chop it fine, then put it in a skillet with olive oil, butter, salt and pepper, and cook it on high until the little onion pieces turn brown and crispy, then toss in the asparagus [I usually will have already nuked the asparagus in the microwave for 5 minutes covered with a wet paper towel].

You can also boil the asparagus until it's crispy or soft, however you like it, and pour over some Knorr hollandaise or Bearnaise sauce. Those Knorr packets make great sauce, in my experience, as long as you follow the directions.

There are more tips about asparagus [pun intended! LOL] here. Another great source for recipes is the Tasty Kitchen site. There's a recipe on there that sounds intriguing - asparagus in balsamic brown butter..