Hi Everyone, how are you?

Here is a tip. Liquid Bar Keepers Friend is PERFECT for cleaning your glass top stove. It works better (faster and easier) than cleaners made specifically for cleaning your glass top stove. How 'bout that? AND, it's WAAAAY cheaper. The downside (isn't there always a downside?) is that it smells atrocious. So wear a nose plug and hope and pray you don't get lung cancer. It also works great for cleaning ceramic casserole dishes and junk like that. I'm hoping my lungs can handle limited exposure.

Since that was so great, haha, let's have another tip. When I took my mother-in-law to Target (well, I had to go and she jumped at the chance to go, too) I splurged on the latest issue of Ladies' Home Journal. I liked the picture on the cover of Laura Bush and her twins (adorable girls). But mainly I liked the looks of the article on De-Cluttering. It's very good, more the philosophy of why we have a problem with clutter, but some practical tips, too. If you have a clutter problem like I do, you might want to go grab a copy, only $2.49.

A couple of good points were that unless your house is in order, you can't really make a whole lot of progress in other areas of your life. I personally can't argue that. And sometimes you slam into the brick wall of Duhsville! Meaning, you realize that the effort required to procrastinate becomes more than the effort to actually set your timer for an hour and tackle the hideous job. Exceptionally true words. Now, how absurd can we get? I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of sabotaging myself. Time to do the things that make life worth living. It's not that hard, so why don't we do it? That's what I mean by self-sabotage.

The article wrapped up with testimonials from women who have made the Chuck Plunge and couldn't be happier -- because they feel so light (or is that lite?) and free, all their ghastly burdensome messes rolling off their shoulders and out the door.

So guess what? My MIL is leaving tomorrow, but she will be back in two weeks for two more weeks. Mike will be gone for four days during the two weeks MIL is gone. I am going to read that article every morning and then I am going to do something about it. Today I tried on stuff to wear to the graduation party. And Mike gave thumbs down to three dressy-ish tops. I have a fourth top that was a recent J. Jill big bad mistake. These are going to consignment (hope they don't reject, really, I can't handle any more rejection). A fifth top is in the Goodwill pile all ready, you know, something you just don't feel good wearing. Mike decided he loves the blouse I bought with Val Toad at Nordstrom's. I've decided I love it, too. In fact, everything I've every bought at Nordstrom's is a real winner (on sale, drastic reductions, of course). So, I am doing a purge and will have fun gradually updating my wardrobe with more attractive pieces. Seriously, my wardrobe is kinda sorry. AND, you can always eat lunch at Nordstrom's, which makes it a Win-Win.

Okay, I hope you enjoyed my tips. I am so random.

Happy Mother's Day to EVERY great lady I know, even if you don't have children, you have a motherly influence on someone, so be blessed.

KEM

The joy of the Lord is our strength. In this day and age, it had better be. I like that such a joy is 1,000% dependable, because of its source. We would do well to train our focus on things above. To me, the regular joys of the world are dropping like flies, are really losing their luster.

Except it's nice the Rays just won their 22nd game. 22 - 7, not bad. Numero uno in all of baseball.

And a lady came face to face with Mystery Monkey in her back yard. She was petrified, it was an unexpected encounter. She said his face is very well groomed. Later, her family set out watermelon and bananas for him, which Wildlife said was a big, No, no.

Big day tomorrow. DTD'S best friend from childhood is having her high school graduation party.

Cha-cha,
KEM

Running on fumes seems a misnomer. Running? Maybe gasping on fumes. Or sputtering.

However you slice it, that's KEM these days.

Facebook has been interesting to me. I've noticed that, for the large part, some people are posters, some people comment to those posts, some people are probably readers only and some do a fair job of mixing it all up. I think that means something, whether you post or not, whether you comment or not to others, says something about your personality.

I'm on the verge of giving up Facebook. Read a great opinion piece that a young journalist wrote, I think she was only 24. She decided FB was a colossal waste of time when she could be doing much more valuable things.

I do think Facebook has value, but it can quickly turn into a time sucker. The value to me lies not in knowing that someone dropped a bowl of mashed potatoes, but in the possibilities of finding long lost friends. Now, with my few closest friends, I do enjoy hearing if they dropped a bowl of mashed potatoes. Not that I'm happy they had a catastrophe, but that good friends do enjoy sharing in each other's day-to-day lives, the good, the bad, the ugly.

So, I guess that would mean, chose your Facebook friends discriminately (oh, what a bad naughty word these days). But you can't exactly drop people as friends unless you've never heard of each other, which I'm sure must be the case sometimes.

Bottom line -- Facebook is fun and entertaining . . . in small batches.

Well, that's it folks. I spilled my guts about Facebook.

With such delicate words, I remain, yours truly,
KEM

One can hardly be expected to blogette when one has spent the last many hours crafting chicken pot pie, buttermilk pie and banana nut muffins.

Oh dear, seeing that in writing is not nearly as impressive as I had expected. But it's what comes of flatly refusing to waste any more buttermilk. I also had to drink 2 and a half glasses of buttermilk because I had to use up the whole carton TODAY, and the pie took only one cup and the muffins took a meager 3/4 cup. That left a lot. Just call me Butterball. I hope you are impressed by now.

Maybe tomorrow I can take Welcome Banana Nut Muffins to the new neighbors who moved in four months ago, next door.

Okay, now I know why women of old did the wash on Monday, the ironing on Tuesday, the cleaning on Wednesday, the baking on Thursday and so on. Or however they did it. It's because if you don't do the same thing every day, then you have no point of reference.

Listen, I KNOW I changed my sheets last week, probably the same day I bought new pillows. But what day did I buy the pillows? I don't know. And scratching my head for 10 minutes didn't do a thing but leave a blad spot. So now I can't tell you when I changed my sheets and that means I don't know when I should change them again. Also, I KNOW I cleaned my shower last week. Which day is anyone's guess. And so on. Absolutely ZERO recollection.

Therefore, I must adopt a routine. That is the only way I am going to have a record of when things happened and when they should happen again. If I can stick to the schedule, hehe. Well, this is nothing new, is it? I'm just hoping that my pea soup brain is going to force the matter so then I'll be the housewife of old with time on her hands (well, the time on her hands is my modern twist).

I think I made all this food because I'm reading Amish novels. And because my mother-in-law is here. I even had Amish chicken for the pot pie, and boy, it was good, the chicken was. My MIL had an Amish man build her new kitchen cabinets when she lived in Pennsylvania. There are some Amish restaurants in neighboring towns. I also love Amish furniture, of which I own none. But I've seen it in a little shop in a little town in Carolina. On the spot I decided that if my furniture ever burned up, then it was getting replaced with Amish furniture. Did you know as far as furniture is concerned three moves is as good as a fire? Think about it.

We got our toes and fingers done today. It's for Mother's Day.

Jazzi has been watching out the front door and barking, at 1:30 AM. There are cars parked out front -- coming, sitting and going. Now it's 12:12 and it's time to vacuum. Hope I don't wake up my MIL. On second thought, maybe I will have to do a hand vacuum, where I mop up with damp paper towels. It's silent. I'm not crazy, only eccentric, which means unconventional, peculiar and odd; deviating from the accepted or customary character, practice, etc. That's Webster for you. It means off-center when referring to an axis.

Off Her Rocker KEM P.S. First time ever spell check didn't light up the page with yellow. In fact, there was NO yellow. Now I'm creeped out.

Ha, I'm resorting to mini-blogettes, which, of course, are tinier than regular blogettes, which, of course are tinier than a real blog, as you know.

Three hours in a shoe store can do this to you. It's the Law of Reducements. Reducements?? Well, okay, so it was two hours. Peltz Shoe Store. My MIL'S favo place on earth. But my MIL is very happy with her every day SAS working shoes and her dressy white SAS sandals. I turn into a shoe clerk in there, and there are only 45,000 pairs of shoes out. But only three pairs in size 7.5 Slim. Somehow, it took us three hours to locate those three pairs. Okay, two hours.

Then to the mall to use the Penney's $10 coupon. Their strategy works. You only have to buy a $10 item to use the coupon, so you can walk out with free stuff. But I walked out with two pajama bottoms for me and a shirt for Mike. It was more than $10. Oh, yeah. But at least it wasn't $450 over $10. Read on.

Then my MIL wanted to get her ears pierced, re-pierced, actually. We were told by the Penney's jewelry man, oh yes, saw fabulous little diamond earrings (four teensy squares to form a small square) and a dainty diamond cross, exquisite, $400+ range, we were told that the Piercing Pagoda was in a kiosk in the mall (don't mention kiosks, they conjure up Dead Sea memories). We walked right by it and went the whole length of the mall and ended up in Claire's, where you also can take your life in your hands and get your ears pierced (DTD wouldn't dream of getting intimate work done in the mall, I was telling her about threading I saw being done, LOL, WHO is going to get threading done for all the world to see through the big plate glass windows? NOT KEM, that's who not). Because we never saw the Pagoda, so that's why we're at Claire's. I asked a second person and they said, Oh, yes, there is a Pagoda. But my MIL doesn't mess around, we were in Claire's and that was good enough.

On the way back to Penney's I looked for the Pagoda, just for kicks. Got almost back to Penney's and asked a third person, Where in this goofy mall is the Pagoda? Oh, it's back in the middle of the mall by Macy's. Well, see, I was curious now. So, I don't know how great the Pagoda's advertising is working if we were actively scanning for it and walked right by twice. Pitiful. Of course, when I was walking by Macy's I was looking in Macy's windows, and the heck with the Pagoda.

We came home and ate grilled cheese and Wickles. Which are pickles. Wicked Pickles, I presume.

Okay, a mini-blogette that is fit for the sewer pipes. And I didn't even tell you my own personal wretched ear-piercing story. That is a story, all righty. The kind that can only happen to a KEM.

Another day KEM

Right about now I think a year of isolation sounds just about perfect. JK.

I had a snappy little sentence to send your way. Except it kinda snapped right outta my head. Which leaves me with one very pitiful blogette indeed.

So, to boost my lagging self, I'm taking, starting tonight, 1 tablespoon of molasses every day. My grandfather always took a tablespoon of Castor oil. Really, I need a tablespoon of something to do something. Should have blood work done but I'm afraid when they draw it it will be gray or something. Do you ever feel like your blood (and the life is in the blood) is sorta dead? I'm counting on the molasses to restore the life to the blood. IRON, Baby.

Well, I had better get off this machine. It's not a happening thing tonight.

Wrung out KEM

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

Do you know who said that?

Here's a hint, as I borrow from same author again . . .

"Hello. Good-bye."

KEM