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When The Big Daddy and I married, we lived about two hours from our parents.  He was in graduate school, I worked in a bank.  That year, Christmas Eve was on a Saturday.  The bank kept regular Saturday hours, 9 – 12, and I offered to work since we didn’t have much of a drive.

It started snowing early in the a.m.and was a swirling, blizzardy mess as the morning wore on.  There was stories of accidents and bad driving conditions from customers, and one of my coworkers who was going in the same general vicinity as me heard that the interstate was closed.  Puhleez.  There wasn’t all that much snow that could have accumulated in such a short time.

While that may have been true, in central Illinois there is nothing to stop the snow, and with the right wind conditions it certainly can close a highway.  So there we were, The Big Daddy and The Loan Processor spending Christmas alone in the dreary basement apartment.  With the roaches.

Because we had planned on being with the family, we had no tree.  Nor a Christmas dinner or gifts to open because we were broke.  Ho. To. The. Ho.  We dug in the fridge and came up with some cube steaks and a couple of beers.  Nothing celebrates the joy of Jesus’ birth like chewing on some gristle off of t.v. trays while watching MTV.   I was DEEpressed.

Finally, The Big Daddy said, “Enough.  We are getting out and going to the movies.. Your pick.”   That’s how we ended up at “Terms Of Endearment” and I had no idea Debra Winger was going to die.  I boo hooed and it was a miserable 1st married Christmas except for this…………..

In the movie, Jack Nicholson offers Shirley MacLaine a drink which she declines.  He tells her she should consider it “to kill the bug that crawled up your ass.”  I believe it’s one of the finest movie lines of all time and I have used it over and over.  In my head.  To people who make me nuts.

We went back to our place, killed some Christmas roaches in the bathroom and called it a night.  We eventually made it home to celebrate New Years with our families and we drank plenty.

Just to make sure.

Thanks to this………….

……….I’ve been branching out with some recipes, and it seems most of them require a food processor.  I had a small one at one time, but gave it away since it intimidated the hell out of me.  Just reading about pulsing gave me the heebie-jeebies.

The Big Daddy had a bumper crop of tomatoes that came in about hmmm…..October.  Tomatoes had taken over the homestead so I decided to make salsa which required a food processor.  I opted to use the blender instead with less than great results.  I told my tale of woe to my friend who offered me her food processor that she had never used.  Skerd, like me.  I put my big girl panties on, put that Mother on the counter and stared it down.

I have now made two new batches of salsa that The Fam is going crazy for and I AM IN LOVE WITH THE FOOD PROCESSOR!!!!  I returned it to my friend with a breathless description of its life changing power.  She wanted a piece of that action and made a sweet potato dish with the same results as me.  Now we talk about a kitchen appliance that has been around FOREVA, like we just lifted our skirts and got off the carriage from Amish country.

My mom has had a lifelong debilitating fear of yeast.  She’s always referred to it in a low whisper, like gossiping about somebody whose husband is going to the Big House for tax evasion.  Her advice to her kids, “Stay away from it..  Don’t even try it.”

I think somewhere along the way she may have gotten the Just Say No To Drugs campaign confused with Yeast, and crazy is as crazy was raised.

When The Big Daddy decided to start farming the backyard, we had a difference of opinion on the aesthetics.  I know it’s shocking.   He was going to leave the railroad ties to border it and I haaaaaaaate those things.  I convinced him that we should extend it, curve it and border it with rock. 

We are firm believers in not forking over money for things like rock, so we hunted the Great Plains in search of flagstone.  We would drive around on Sundays, pull over when things looked promising, open the hatchback and start loading.  Can I tell you how many people stopped because they thought we had car trouble?  No, just pilfering rock.  Move along.  Nothing to see..  We were getting puny amounts until The Big Daddy decided we should go to suburbia to nab our prey.

YABBA DABBA DOO!!!!  We stumbled upon a golf course under construction and it was like Bedrock.  Fred and Wilma loaded and loaded, and that car of ours dragged itself home and back many times.

We also believe that we should not pay for dirt.  Across the street, the city is putting in a walking trail to the park.  Suhweeeeeeet.  Bobcats start bright and early and this is what we’ve looked at for two weeks.  Finally, I said to The BD, “Did you see all that dirt over there?  We should go after dark and load up.”  My thoughts exactly, he said.

Great minds and gardeners think alike, and when we’re done stealing the dirt we just may bring home Johnny On The Spot.  I’ve heard that an extra bathroom always ups the resale value of a home.  Significantly.

In my obsession with reality shows about hoarding, I heard a pearl of wisdom from a professional organizer working with a client.  He said to her, “Life is about experiences, not things.”

Oh my.

In a house and garage that has too much stuff, a closet that is full, kitchen cabinets that barf Tupperware every time you open them, a freezer with food that can no longer be identified, and a basement that is a holding pen for crap we have no need or use for……this was an eye-opener.  I may not be a hoarder, but I buy way more than we need.

Last week, the girls and I went to see The Alvin Ailey Dancers.  That Tiny Dancer of ours has led the way to a whole new world for this family, and those professional dancers proceeded to Rocka My Soul to the Bosom of Abraham.  I’ve been singing my prayers ever since, and oh my indeed…………

It was an experience.

The Big Daddy rides his bike back and forth to work every day, and has for many years.  On the weekends, he rides early in the morning with a group of guys who call themselves The Gravy Train.  I think it’s because their wives are so frickin’ awesome their life is GRRRRRRRavy.  This is the fast ride.  A Hard 40.  The Shawshank Redemption.

It never fails that if we are out socializing on a Friday or Saturday night, The Big Daddy will say, “Yeah, I’m doin’ 40 in the morning.”  And nobody ever knows what he’s talking about.  This causes him to thump his chest and say, “40 miles.  6:30.  With The Gravy Train.”  Which leads to lots of oohs and aahs.  As if a monkey couldn’t ride a bike.

I’ve decided to play that BD at his own game.  Now when we leave a party, I say, “Yeah, I’m doing 10 tomorrow.  Maybe 12.”   And when people ask me what that means, I say, “Sentences.  10:30.  Ish.  Sweats.  Chair with wheels.”   However, if I was over-served by the hosts the night before, I write in fragments that I count as a sentence cuz I put a period at the end.  Like this.

I swear I can hear a little gasp, as if people are so impressed with me they can’t form a word.  It might be a choke, but I’m pretty sure it’s the Awe Factor.

When our cute, little Beamer went to meet his Maker, we decided we were going to take our time finding the next family cat.  When barely a month had gone by, The Teacher Girl informed us that the shelter that she adopted Butters from was having a sale on adoptions.  HALF PRICE YOU GUYS!!!  YOU’VE GOT TO MOVE ON THIS!!

And move we did, because she has a way of getting the show on the road.  That is how we ended up with The Brothers…..Frank and Pip.  Not only was it half price adoptions, but it was also Buy One Get One Free.  How could you turn down a sale like that?

My aunt once told me that she’s a real sucker for a sale.  Goes right to the sign, and dammit she’ll find something even if she doesn’t need it.  Oh, I know all about that, I told her.  I’ve got a closet full of good deals that have been worn once.  “I swear,” she said, “if they put a turd on sale I’d probably buy it.”

The Brothers have each been diagnosed with a kidney infection.  Urine sample.  Overnight stay.  Medication.  $150.00.  Next week is round two.  More medication.  Another urine sample.  $$$.

We’re off to a stellar start with this great deal we got, and The Two Turds we acquired hang in the closet next to the leopard pencil skirt that makes me look like a fat, middle-aged hooker.

Many years ago, The Big Daddy and I traveled to my parents’ house for Christmas from our apartment two hours away.  When we arrived, my dad pulled me aside to tell me they invited a nice, young couple for dinner that couldn’t make it home to Minnesota to spend the holidays with their family.  Since they were about our age, Dad wanted me to make a special effort to make them feel welcome.  Sure can do, Dad, and who is this couple you befriended?

From the kitchen Mom yelled, “It’s the cable man.”  What???  “Well, we’ve had so much trouble with the gull damn cable.  We kept calling and every time they’d send out some idiot that would get it working for a day and then we’d be right back where we started.  This kid came the last couple of times and finally fixed it, and well, we couldn’t have him and his wife celebrating Christmas by themselves.”

The Big Daddy and I moved further away and haven’t made it home for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner in many years.  We fill our table with a different kind of family on the holidays, and everything I know about welcoming strangers to your home I learned from Bill and Gerry.

I walk every day in the park, along with some other regulars.  Through the years and in the neighborhood, I’ve met many people along the way, mostly retired men puttering in their yard looking for some distraction for a few minutes.

The Public Works Department is often in the park, mowing, trimming, emptying trash.  My girlfriend got to be chatty with one of the guys who took an interest in her dog.  He really, really liked her dog.  Loved her dog.  After months of conversing whenever they would see each other, he stopped to pet her dog and casually said, “We should go out for a drink some time.”  She was a flustered mess, totally taken off guard and said, “Ummm, no, no, that’s not a good idea.  I’m married.”  To which he said………..

“Oh, that’s o.k. so am I.”   Ya think he was faking the dog liking thing?

I never paid any attention to him, and have walked daily without being asked out by a city employee.  I take a different route home than she does and pass the home of Barbie & Ken every day.  I did not make that up.  Ken’s been a friendly guy over the years, especially since the time his dog was running loose and tried to bite me in the leg.

Today when I walked by, he was in the backyard and called me over to the fence.  Can I ask you a question?  Sure.  Does it bother you that I stop you on your walk to visit?  No, not at all.  Well, I just wanted to make sure because you’ve been coming at different times lately and I thought maybe you were trying to avoid me.  No, some mornings I get out earlier than others.  Well, good because I really have enjoyed getting to know you and I wouldn’t want to do anything to offend you.  Other than your dog leaving teeth marks in my thigh, we’re fine.  To which he said……..

“Sometimes I get lonely.  That’s why I look for you in the morning.  So we can talk.” 

Sheesh.