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.