Hallo Again, CDW has the floor: I was reading about your perfect tomato, cramped counter space (can SO identify!) and mopping (inspiring, btw) and then I see CDW down at the end and her dreaded word...panties. Amen to that. Hate it. Underwear...by all means, unless I just want to be silly and use that disgusting word just for an unwholesome effect :) KEM here, I told you CDW doesn't like the word panties. Let it never be said KEM did not tell you how her pot roast turned out tonight. Normally when I cook, I go, Rats, this tastes pretty much like nuttin'. However, tonight was different. The pot roast sent me into a state of delirium and I started bragging about it to anyone who would listen, which would be Mike, stepson, DT-s-D, Jazzi and Robby. Yes, we had a full house for a change. Even Robby was back from the hospital and his surgery. Robby being gone for 3 days is a very bad and lonesome thing. At the vet's he hisses like a wild animal plucked from the jungle, he growls and makes scary sounds I've never heard before. It all started on his first visit when he went under the bench in the examination room and the vet tech reached under there and grabbed him by the scruff. Imagine that. It was complicated by a board running under the bench, you know? He had to be extracted from the back corner and maneuvered around the board. Robby has never been man handled that way and that was the end of being Sweet Lil' Rob. When they went to draw blood he went completely ape and scratched the tech and there was lots of blood...from the tech. They had to give him (not the tech) funny gas to actually get any blood. Robby loves his mommy and daddy and has little use for mean old vet people. Ain't that sad. Stepson wants to know what we do to our pets that makes them not like other people. But that isn't even true. It depends on the person, any cat or dog knows that. When the techs came to pet him in his cage the last three days, he pulled out his vocabulary again. They couldn't get near him. But when I picked him up today he was pleased as punch and no naughty sounds. I stuck my finger in his cat carry case and he just let me pet him and looked pleased. The doctor watched and I was very proud. Were we talking about pot roast once upon a time? Okay, first off, Sweetbay Supermarket has lovely meat. Just gorgeous. I get the enticing looking roast that has a yellow blazing sticker: $3.00 OFF. That is the roast for me. You bring it home and cook it on the last possible day...why not enjoy aged meat, after all. Get out your Le Creuset, I hope you have one. If not, that is what you want for Christmas, go jot it on your calendar right now. That's what I got for Christmas once, from my dad and sister. Priceless. Mine is a medium yellow oval and weighs about two tons. But that's okay, after you taste the pot roast. Then you brown it in olive oil...slowly, the recipe in the meat package tells you. Oh wait, first you pat flour all over the roast. THEN you brown it in olive oil. Brown it on all sides. Throw in some sliced onions and near the end of the browning, some garlic. Take that baby right out of the yellow pot. Put him on your wonderful cream colored Fiestaware platter. Now, pour in 1 and 1/2 cups vegetable broth plus 1/4 cup Balsamic vinegar. Heat it up and scrape up the savory meat morsels stuck on the bottom of Le Creus. Sprinkle in 1/2 teaspoon each of salt and pepper. Oh yes, while you are at it, dump in the bacon grease left over from yesterday's BLpT, pT standing for perfect Tomato. Get that hunk of meat back in the pot. Cover with the matching lid. Stick the whole mess in that 325 oven and let it go for 2.5 hours (for a 2.5 pound roast). Now, when the house is smelling so good you can hardly stand it, put that tender beauty back on the washed FW platter. You can reduce the liquidy sauce in the pot, but I didn't have time, since dinner is always an hour late around here. You know, dodging the Christmas china and all. So, I sliced the roast and sloshed gravy all over on the plates, right at the stove. We are not civilized around here and put serving dishes on the table. Look. I am not at all about extra work, refinement be hanged. I'm half zonked by the time the food is ready anyway, then you get to clean up. This is usually why our own cooking doesn't taste so hot. Get it? Then there was Creamy Parmesan Risotto and sauteed mushroom (with bacon grease, again, onion, lemon juice, salt and pepper, be sure and slice the mushrooms thick). Now, I can't help it, but to me this was the perfect pot roast. It melted in your mouth and the sauce was SOOOOOOOOO good, better than with wine. I'm sorry Pioneer Woman, but the meat package recipe was better than when I tried your recipe. I'm sorry Julia Childs...ditto. BTW, I didn't exactly follow the package recipe. They wanted to add chopped dates and go Mediterranean. I didn't have any dates. And they nary said a word about bacon grease. DT-s-D can't believe I cook with butter, oil and grease. Sorry, dry salads are not the answer to the world's problems. Also, recipe wanted shallots, but I had none, so garlic went in. And do you notice how SIMPLE this recipe is? My theory in cooking is that fewer ingredients = better food. Not to mention less work. Win-Win. Okay, it is raining, raining, I'm so happy. We went one LOOOOOONG stretch with no rain. Rain is pure joy, rain, and pot roast. BTW, I know you all cook fabulous pot roast, have for years, but I wrote this in my blog so I won't forget what I did, heh, heh. The cut was bottom round roast. Hey, when my Baby Portabellas came out of the package tonight, they were slimy. And the use by date was smeared so I couldn't read it, don't you just love that, isn't that how it always goes? I noticed the slime in the first instant. So I Googled something like Slimy Baby Portabellas. And sure enough someone else had the same problema back in 2007. And there are such nice people out in this here big world who answered the poor lady. The consensus was 1,000% to Skip the Slime. So Mike and Nick got to run to Rollin' Oats and get a new box of mushrooms. They looked a little over the hill, Mike only checked three packages back, but you know what, they smelled okay, I always poke my nose down deep in the bottom of the box. The Slimies had a strong odor. Anyway, they turned out DEEE-licious. Bragging KEM Hey, can you believe my paragraphs melded again? Something must be done, what is wrong with this machine? Time for some Orangesicle Yogurt. I don't think I spelled Orangesicle right, and hey guess what? Spellcheck isn't working. Maybe my blog site is mad at me for not posting forever. Wait a minute, now Spellcheck has decided to chime in. Orangesicle is striped in yellow. When I clicked on it to get the correct spelling, guess what Spellcheck suggested? (no suggestions) Really, if they can't do any better than that, why bother? Sassy KEM

KEM, the former blogger, is making a ghost appearance tonight. Have you ever had The World's Perfect Tomato? I did. Tonight. It was one of those Ugly Tomatoes from Sweetbay grocery store. It was so marvelous that I concluded life can go on. The tomato was the "T" of the BLT's we had for dinner. I've decided sandwiches are IT. When I was trying to assemble everything I kind of lost my cool. There isn't a lot of counter space in my kitchen and my lettuce was drying in a towel by the sink and ended up spilling into the sink. Trying to clear a spot for the plates...not easy. Tomato juice was running rivers all over. Bacon grease spit here, there and everywhere. And where on earth can I set the jar of mayo? So, finally, I announced to Mike, I am having a very hard time over here, this kitchen is so stupid, there is no counter space, no place to work. He says, If you put the Christmas china away, you would have more room. I say, It's easier to holler about no space to work. He says, I know. Besides, my Christmas china (not really Christmas, it's my better china that I got for $35 at The Garage Sale Store, and it includea a fabulous lidded soup tureen, but normally it only gets hauled out at Christmas, hence, it is Christmas china) is not on the counter anymore. Eleven days ago it got moved to the top of the stove because it got used for my mother's birthday dinner. It got used for birthday because, after all, there it was, and I couldn't have Christmas china hogging the counter when I was having company for dinner. This is because my house is an open floor plan, and whoever invented the open floor plan is not my favorite person. No interior walls, you walk in the house and you see the whole thing, every room, every mess, every counter piled high with Christmas china. The china is not puttable awayable at the present moment because it is only rinsed, not washed. So, there it is, rinsed and stacked on the stove, enjoying all the activity. I promise you, I lead a very busy life. Who has time for small potatoes like stowing Christmas china? Some day I want to tell you how I lost my wedding band in Rollin' Oats. How it just slipped right off my finger and I didn't even know it. Then DT-s-D and I were driving to another store and I looked down and BOOM! Heart attack! NO RING. We sped back to Rollin' Oats and we started cruising the aisles. And there was my ring, sitting in the middle of the aisle in front of the frozen meat case. Wow. I had noticed my fingers would get cold and shrink and I could slide my ring up and down my finger, over the knuckles and everything, with absolutely no resistance. I had actually noticed that in Rollin' Oats not five minutes before the ring fell off. Weird I didn't even feel it. Or hear it. And weird no one found it, there for all the world to see. Except all the world didn't see it, in fact, no one saw it. And it's a wide band, chunky and meaty, ha, ha. My grandmother always kept her eyes to the ground when she walked down the street. She found more coins that way. SHE would have discovered the ring in front of the meat case. She also liked to check the pay phone for change left behind. Or maybe that was me. It's hardly a get-rich-quick scheme, but it's fun. Boy, I don't even know when is the last time I saw a pay phone, do you? Do they still have them? You know how even in the poorest third world countries everyone has a cell phone? They may not have a toilet, but, by golly, they have that phone. My missionary friends told me this. They are in Guyana. I no longer need to tell you my story about my wedding ring hitting the pavement in Rollin' Oats. 'Cause I just did. Speaking of rings hitting the pavement, I no sooner got my class ring at boarding school than I dropped it on the pavement and a chunk of the gold was knocked out. It doesn't pay to play with rings. Feel free to believe me on this very sensitive subject. Okay, time to tackle my midnight chores. I added something, a quick mop with Swiffer mop (the kind you can use dry or wet cloths). It's so much fun. AND, I am here to tell you, that dry mop picks up so much crud I nearly went into a state of shock after using it for the first time. How can it be? All the crud? I vacuum every other day and dry mop the in-between days. It's really shocking, and feel free to believe me. KEM P.S. Just so you know, I had paragraphs in this literary masterpiece. When I came back later to edit it, it had mysteriously melded into one long run-on paragraph. It really ruirns the effect, but I'm not about to correct it at 2:12 AM and still having Swiffer & Friends to party with. BTW, "ruirn" is one of my favorite words in The Help. But please, never use the word "supper" with me. And whatever you do, NEVER use the word "panties" with CDW. It's UNDERWEAR, Ladies. Feel free to tell me the words that make your skin crawl. Thank you. P.P.S. Minny uses "ruirn" in The Help, and the first time I picked up on it was not the first time Minny used it. See, I am rereading and already have found it where I didn't notice it the first time Minny said it. I believe it's used 3 times in the book, but I will let you know for sure, because that is a Vital Fact for your spare brain cells. Reading books twice is a stellar idea.

Mr. Mole makes me nervous.

The brick men showed up early, as in 8 AM early, and started this obnoxiously loud machine that pats the dirt down smooth. I think water was involved. Remember, this is Saturday. I think I'll be making Cherry Cupcakes to distribute to the neighbors every Saturday for the rest of my life.

I look out the bathroom window a few hours later and see Mike standing where the cement part of the driveway ends and the bricks are supposed to begin, where we park the cars. He stands there so long looking down and also talking to one of the men, that I decide I had better throw on some clothes and high tail it down there.

Guess what? The "seconds" bricks that came in from Ohio, all 90,000 of them (really, that's how many the landscaper bought, we use a fraction of those, just a thousand and some), they are diverse sizes. Meaning. Meaning, when you try to do a herringbone pattern or a basketweave pattern, you are in big trouble because the short bricks leave great big gaps here and there (because the shorter bricks are randomly laid). There were several sample patterns laid out and it was not pretty, trust me.

They were going to finish all the brick work today. Instead, we stood around and discussed a long time what might be some options, because, after all, what do you do with huge crates of bricks sitting not only in your yard, but mooching off the neighbor's yard, too? Mike and I and the main brick man talked. Because the Landscape Guy, the Ultimate Authority, is in Colorado hunting. Seriously groovy.

They could lay the bricks like a brick street, just linear. BORING. Not only boring but kindergartenish. Then we thought of laying them linear but diagonally. WEIRD. Don't know if I could embrace that...ever. Of course, being weird is my specialty, so I might have to sleep on that one. Then I thought of extracting the red bricks and doing the driveway with them. And then another color for the sidewalk. Because all the reds are the same size, at least, and all the oranges are the same size, but not the same size as the reds, etc. Several shades of bricks going on, including blueish gray. This way I could still have the far superior herringbone pattern. But it would involved a lot of sorting of bricks and I get the drift the guys wouldn't exactly adore that. They just like to grab the next brick and lay it down. I was informed that one of the helpers could lay 1,000 sq ft of bricks a day and another could lay 1,200 a day and the third guy wasn't as good as the other two. WHO KNOWS.

So, the men had to leave because we have to see what Landscape Guy has to say. I'm guessing he won't want to ship 8,000 tons of bricks back to Ohio. Wouldn't you guess the same thing?

Okay, so all this happened at 12 noon and my day was a big zero from then on. And, of course, that was when my day started, 12 noon. So there you go. This is called, in NC, a Flaw In the Slaw. Frankly, I've very curious to see what LG has to say. I told the brick man to go to the beach for the afternoon. He's from Brazil, btw, and he is all business. I tried to make him laugh and was only moderately successful. He said, I want to work, I was going to finish this job today. I said, Maybe LG will give you a bonus for this surprise FItS (Flaw In the Slaw).

But I like man from Brazil. Yesterday DT-s-D came by when I wasn't home. She tramped through the dirt the long way to the front door. I know this because when I came home there was a nice pile of dirt on the doormat. But we've all been leaving our share of the earth all over the floors, actually. I also noticed a full roll of paper towels positioned by the front doormat.

So I called Mike, Why is there a roll of paper towels by the front door? I don't know, he says, Maybe Robby put it there. Now, obby does like to attack paper towel rolls, but this roll was standing on end, intact, and no claw tears in it. Honestly, Robby did not put that roll there, just absurd. I like to know why a roll is sitting there, 'cause I'm always afraid someone wee-wee'd in the grout.

Next, I call DT-s-D. Hi, did you set a roll of paper towels by the front door? Yes. Aha, what do you know? She said, I was swiping them. Oh. I suggest, I thought maybe you were going to wipe off your dusty feet. She replies, Oh no, you should just be happy I took my shoes off. So I am, so I am.

But that was a bunny hike. DT-s-D also mentioned that the workmen looked at her like she was a Martian yesterday. And here is why I like Brazil man. In-between discussing seconds bricks that, btw, I was told would have variations in color, which is acceptable, size variations, which is not acceptable, never being breathed, he said, Was that your sister over here yesterday? (Boy, that was a bad sentence.) Heh, heh, heh, we won't mention this to DT-s-D, will we? It's not a disparagement of her anyway, but still... I said, No, that was my daughter. He said, She looks like your sister. Maybe he should have put it another way, You look like her sister. Older sister, mind you. By only 30 years.

I might be coming down with something, me is too tired behind the eyes and ultra grouchy. I'm saving my Dr. Deb story for tomorrow, it's kind of a classic. This brick thing, naturally, has me partially disturbed.

You know what a blog really is, at least my blog? A diary. That's just exactly what it is. And a diary for public consumption, no less. Thank goodness only a handful of people read it, and you're all my friends. Whew!

Heck, how come it's already 1 AM? Need to go make a dent in The Help, I sort of only read about a page a day lately. I'm halfway through, and have been for some time. Help!

Buried In Useless Bricks,
KEM

Mr. Mole has been asked to please wait. I had no time for him today. But there is a very good reason for that, which I shall elaborate upon tomorry. If has to do with the fact that my friend Dr. Deb and I should, under no circumstances, ever become anyone's social secretary.

I will never have to worry about someone engraving on my tombstone, SHE WAS A GREAT HOUSEKEEPER. Do you hear that, Mr. Mole? I know you are trying, but I just want you to comprehend who and what you are dealing with.

I'm typing all my letters backwards, so that means time to pack it all in.

Have a splendid weekend everyone! KEM

Hi. My Moleskin(e) Diary told me to wash the dark clothes today.

Okay, so I get them ready, squirt whatever needs to be squirted, and load them into the machine. But I don't start the machine yet because I need to wash the dishes first. This has something to do with not running two appliances at once because our hot water pipe is too skinny, thanks to our handyman. Besides, this gives the squirt time to molder.

Later, I go to start the washer but first I notice more black clothes in the bottom basket. See, I have these four baskets that slide on a rack, one stacked on top of the other. Can you picture this? I'm not real sharp tonight, you're on your own.

Now, I know that I had emptied the black clothes basket. I don't know much these days, but I do know that. So, my reasoning is, A) Mike threw a black something in there while I wasn't looking in the last few minutes. Or B) Mike threw a black something in there while I wasn't looking in the last few minutes. And so on.

Next, I go to grab the black something to add it to the wash. But the black something comes alive and turns its little self and I see a surprised white face.

Robby, none other. I promise you, when he is curled up asleep, none of his white shows. Not his paws, they get tucked underneath. Not his face, it's buried in his neck. Not his underside, either, it's all wrapped up in black. If he's on something black, like his supposed kitty bed that he uses once every 3 months, you simply cannot see him. At all. He knows how to become one with the background. No, he doesn't blend in, he becomes one with it. Like I said, you can't see him. At all. He may as well not be a Tuxedo when he's sleeping. Because his white is as good as not there...utterly concealed.

Well. I think I made that point. But, just so you know, when I was typing, Not his underside either...I had a thought pop into my head that was to be the next sentence. But then a second thought popped in on top of the first thought and since the second thought went with the sentence I was currently writing, I decided to finish that, the part about all wrapped up in black. And just that fast, I lost the first thought that was to be the next sentence. It's killing me, I can't get it back, it's gone for good, and it was way better than all wrapped up in black. It had something to do with the white hair, which is swallowed up in black. Oh, right, I made that point.

My Moleskin(e) was busy telling me what to do today. This is the first day I used it. I made my list in Mole the night before. It went as follows:

Dark load (done, see above.)

Put china away (not done, this is Christmas china, BTW, sitting on the kitchen counter since...Christmas, taking up prime real estate.)

Remove tablecloth (done, I am switching to placemats because I'm tired of tablecloths -- but Robby thinks placemats are great landing pads, 'cause they slide, those placemats {and Robby} were on the floor in two seconds flat -- plus, I want to see my pretty birch wood table for a change.)

Take green tablecloth and cupcakes to Mom (done, see, I have this green tablecloth from Target that my mom admires over and over, then I made the significant discovery that the very same soft green tablecloth, sort of like an almost tiny check pattern, is on the Andy Griffith show, in the later color episodes, it's identical, I'm so proud -- however, this cloth is too short for my table, I use a table leaf, two of them {I said it that way 'cause I didn't know if it was leafs or leaves} at all times 'cause I don't know where else to put them, so my mom, who has been wanting a cloth, is getting it, which is easier than me sewing on ribbon or something to make it long enough for my table, which would never happen in a million years, me sewing.)

Hangers to cleaners (done and Jazzi got two Milkbones in the process.)

Pile papers on desk (done, now I no longer have a collage but rather one neat orderly pile...dealing with the neat orderly pile goes on tomorrow's Mole.)

Copy CDW emails (oops, not done, transferred to Morrow's Mole, I WUV U, CDW.)

Mop kitchen floor (done if I ever finish this blog.)

Cupcakes to new neighbor (done, I'm way ahead of schedule, he moved in only 2 months ago.)

Isn't Mole wonderful? I do what the Mole says. Well, I do most of what the Mole says. As punishment for not doing ALL the mole says, I must start my day tomorrow attacking the Christmas china. That's right, it's a fight and the china has me hidden in a bunker in fright. I have to vacuum and wipe down the open shelf over the refrigerator where this china sits all year except for Christmas dinner and then the however many months on the kitchen counter until I rally my troops. Then I have to rewash the china, because, after all, it's been sitting there collecting dust EXACTLY two months. All of this, the enemy, intimidates me.

I'm sure most of you are dialing the psychiatric ward as you read.

Tomorrow is scary, not only is Mole standing over me with a stick for the china, but Mole says I must vacuum and put away our suitcases from the trip to Germany, which was OVER two months ago. If that made your jaw drop, this will make your teeth fall into your lap...my suitcases from my trip to see my sister in September are still hanging around with their mouths gaping open. And these are NOT the suitcases we took to Germany. Our suitcases are very chummy with all the huge wasted floor space in master bedroom. Robby enjoys napping in them. Suitcases are black and so is Robby, 'member? Robby can go incognito at any given moment.

Okay, Mole made me a half-way success today. AND, I did something not on the Mole list. I ground the coffee beans Mike doesn't like and he took them to work to share with all the unsuspecting. That, my friends, is one less item on the kitchen counter. And I've almost got the coffee grinder cleaned up, I do it in stages. First, I tap out the remaining grounds. Then I go check my email. Then I get a brush and whisk out more grounds. Then I go tend to Mole. Then I still have to get a damp paper towel and wipe out the residue. I looked this up online and found the instructions, 'cause I don't know where my Owner's Manual is. I was very proud of finding a downloadable Owner's Manual online. Now, you know I've cleaned the grinder before, but it's been a while. And I was right, you can't immerse it in water. But I'm the type who machine washes pure wool sweaters and they come out like dolls' clothes.

Anyway, I am learning to break chores down into micro steps. It works for me.

This is the weirdest blog. I'm TIRED because every day while I'm still sleeping, I'm really anticipating/waiting for the sidewalk workmen to show up. After their Buzzy Bee Monday, not a whole lot has happened. On Tuesday two men dug a hole for a couple hours, including lunch on the back of their truck. Wednesday...a total vacuum (I just must love that word), meaning, no one showed up. Today, six white plastic pipes were deposited on top of the dirt. Please, grab the smelling salts. People...tomorrow is Friday and we all know what that means.

I'm hoping to dream of the sentence that poofed into my mind and then poofed out again, like a genie. Lost thoughts, it happens to me A LOT.

LOT A LOVE,
KEM

How is it that at 10:20 PM I am sitting here at the computer, all chores completed hours and hours ago, and all that is left is to peel hard boiled eggs?

Furthermore, how is it that I did all this, all this including washing the dog, cleaning the shower, changing the sheets and washing the litter boxes outside, among other things, but those I am the proudest of, on exactly 1 hour and 30 minutes sleep last night?

And, I visited my parents and Muffy AND supervised (meaning, I had one eye on it all day) the demolition of our now former gang plank walkway (YAY! for history), railroad ties (Roach Motels), wall surrounding ug-ee patio off the dining room (at front of the house, naturally) and inferior quality shrubs and decorative trees (eyesores one and all).

The day started like this. Got in bed around 4:30 AM, I'll tell you why in a minute because it is not my usual reason I go to bed when the rest of the eastern USA is fixing to get up. Stared at the same page of The Help for about a half hour. Gave up and tried to sleep, but stomach hurt.

Finally fell asleep at 7 AM. At 8:30 AM Mike comes rushing upstairs to announce the work crew is here and that I should get up and see to things. Now you have to understand, we weren't told exactly which day the work crew would show up.

So, trying to bury the fact that I just had 1.5 hours of sleep, I peek out the upstairs bathroom window and see trucks galore up and down the street and Hispanic men swarming the yard like flies on your picnic hamburger.

The next thing is, they are tearing up the yard. HARK! We can't swing doing this whole project in one fell swoop and have divided it into Part A and Part B. I'm here to tell you, we are starting with Part A, the hardscape, and the crew was delving into Part B, the landscape. Totally backwards and months out of synch.

Well, good, how great will this be, to have a dirt naked yard for the next 9 months?

So luckily, Mike comes back in and I order him back out there this instant and tell them to knock it off. Then I call Mr. Todd, Landscaper Extraordinaire, rated A+ by BBB, and say, Hello, your crew is tearing up our yard.

And that's how my day, on 1.5 hours sleep, started.

But I was not deterred. Sleep was impossible now, not only due to the noise factor but because I had to have that evil eye on. I've mentioned several times to various people wandering about, DO NOT CUT DOWN OUR CAMPHOR TREE (which only MAKES our house, it's front and center in the yard, huge and impressive and beautiful) AND DO NOT CUT DOWN OUR OAK TREES (lined up along the edge of yard and alley and simply essential to my well being).

So, I jumped into work and kept at it and here I am. I'm sure you're not believing this.

BUT, last night, see, Mike and I made a deal. I want a new kitten so Robby can have a playmate (since my initial idea for Jazzi and Robby to be pals hasn't materialized, really, in animal years, Jazzi could be a young grandmother to Robby).

So, guess what? Mike says, You can have a new kitten IF you clean and organize the whole house. That's right, the WHOLE house.

So (love that word), I stayed up all night and started organizing and cleaning the whole house, the first three hours of which involved sorting and reading ancient newspapers.

Mike thinks he's so clever, he knows I will never get a new kitten now.

But he'd better think again and think fast while he's at it. He'd better wipe that smirk off his face and reorganize his confidence, 'cause it's gone take a beating. That's all I got to say (reading too much of The Help, I'm gone start talking like them 1960's colored gals, it's very catching -- don't yell at me, that's what they call themselves in the book, it's how it was).

All right, I've left my eggs too long, they gone be tough to peel.

Hey, you oughta see Robby having his new harness fitted by me. It ain't working out none too good.

Tomorrow is another day, I take it.

Til then,
KEM

Today I'm pulling into the bank following a black car that looks vaguely familiar. A Solera, I've heard of those once upon a time. Even the license plate looks like I've see it somewhere before. It has a Florida Gator on it.

Aha! It is Mike's old car which DT-sD now drives. So she pulls off to the side of the drive to gather her wits and banking materials. I pull up right next to here, stop and roll down the window. HA! Nice little surprise! I suggest after her banking transaction she come to the house to pick up her mail, which includes this dirt cheap jewelry she orders online, to the tune of .25 cent earrings. How you make a living selling that is quite the mystery. Why don't they just pay us to relieve them of their earrings?

Her mail also includes a solicitation from Bob Jones University. They want money to transform the dining common. DT-sD wants to know why they didn't have such a modernized dining room and food when she was a 9th grade academy boarding student several years ago. Beats me why they didn't.

She wonders why I bother handing her a letter from BJU, it hits the trash faster than even the postcard reminder from her former dentist, my childhood friend. The postcards remind that DT-sD might want to consider coming in for a cleaning appointment since it's been 1 year, 2 years, 3 years, etc. since the last time she had her teeth cleaned. To no avail have I tried to tell the dentist's receptionist that DT-sT has moved on.

Then she has an invitation to rejoin her monthly hair care products club. And a something or ruther from the bank.

Also in her mail pile, for lack of a better place, a blue beads on elastic bracelet that was part of a bunch of blue beaded bracelets on elastic I gave her for a Christmas present. This stray one I discovered recently, this little set came from my gift box. DT-sD scorned these bracelets many moons ago. But this year after opening her Christmas presents she announced, What do you know, I like everything you gave me this year. She even liked one of the gift bags. She was as shocked as I was. Even though I love to spill beans, I refrained from telling her the beloved blue beads on elastic bracelets were her rejects from long ago. Now they are fashion recycles. He, he, he.

She has been having this sinus trouble for a month. Yet she worked the lunch shift at the restaurant. She said the tables look at her funny when she opens her mouth and sounds like Darth Vader. She has been spending the night with friends to avoid inhaling mold fumes in her sleep. Always sumpin', right?

Hey, guess what? I remembered the brand I wanted to tell you about the other day. I found a great new product. Bottled water. Bottled water you can actually OPEN the top without permanently gnarling your wrist in the process. I tell you what, I'd had it with some of these dopey bottles. One brand, to save money and the earth, no doubt, made their caps so small you could barely find the it much less get a grip and...hello...open it. These caps are clipped on so tightly it's beyond absurd. I'd have ten monkey fits three times a day, just opening my bottles of water. Seriously, life is too short for this kind of nonsense.

So, I saw a new brand of water at Sweetbay grocery store. Kelley Springs. Looked good to me, pure spring water from right here in Florida. But boy, when I got it home and gave the usual death grip to the lid, I was in for a MORE than pleasant surprise. This cap just spun off like a charm, so easily, in fact, I wondered if the seal had been broken. But all the bottles are like that. It's because they only have about three points (instead of the usual 20) where the plastic is attached, you know, the perforated little plastic nibs. BRILLIANT! Even my mother could open it, and that is the grand test of all. It's effortless, I'm telling you. It even feels good, try it.

I can tell you this much, Kelley Springs is the only brand I buy from now on. Period. And there is actually a swimming hole at the springs, too. (Probably not the point where they bottle the water). My mother was great to take us to visit the Florida springs when we were kids. Nothing like jumping in an ice cold natural pool of the purest clearest water. Somehow, though, we never got to this spring, and it's right near Apopka, I think, where we went to boarding school.

Of course I had to Google Kelley Springs, this is how I found out about the swimming. I was Googling because I wanted to THANK them for saving wrists and tempers everywhere. But I couldn't find the exact website...somehow. Now I shall have to telephone instead.

So, I am spreading the word. And just you watch, when I go to Sweetbay tomorrow, there will be no Kelley Springs bottled water and they will tell me they stopped carrying it, in my honor.

My house look so bad that I told Mike he could not bring his visiting boss over here or he might lose his job. Gads. I feel the mood descending to turn into a whirling dervish. But first, tomorrow is my friend's CAbi clothing party, which I wouldn't miss for anything. The refreshments and her house are too fab.

Then I have to pick up a painting I commissioned for Mike's boss. It's a picture of his product can. That's one thing I figured he might not have. Man, I hope he likes it. It's a thank you for the Germany trip he gave us. The artist, my friend, is hoping I like it, too. Jeepers, I hope I do like it. We went out to dinner and we got home there was a message that she wanted to drop it off at our house because she was eating dinner on our side of town. THANK THE LORD we were not home, NO ONE can see my house right now. Not even you.

Okay, run out and buy Kelley Springs water and save your wrists. PLUS, it tastes wonderful, better than any of the others. Robby and Jazzi love it. Robby has been a wild man lately, totally insane, the little sweetheart. He has learned to open the kitchen cupboard doors. Rats.

Good night, my blogging babies,
KEM