aMusing Monday: WOW, It Is True!

I love those scented softsoap shower gels. Not only does it make your skin feel great, they can make bubbles for miles in a jetted tub; and they have an aromatherapy effect that can rival any spa. Really, I can’t say enough about them. Tonight I needed a memory to kick in so I could stop fretting about what to write for the blog.  It seems there are two sure fire ways to get my mind in gear and that is a snow storm or a warm bubble bath……..

The bathroom had a heavenly aroma of cucumber with melon and pomegranate oil. The bubbles were at least 18 inches high.  The dogs opted out of the bath time show tonight so there were no worrisome whines to get in the tub with me. Nothing at all to cloud the mind.

(insert cricket sounds here…no really you need to make the sound) 

I could not get my head in the game. My mind was blank.  It was not long before my eyes came to a rest on the faucet to the tub. I got to thinking about those old television shows and movies.  You know, the ones with the hot chickie in the tub and she has her toe stuck in the faucet. How in the world does a real person get their toe stuck in such a large opening? And so starts the stupidity of it all.

I tried it. I stuck my toe in and out it fell.


It entered my mind that if this were Myth Busters (a TV show about science), they would keep trying until they proved it to be plausible or busted.  At that moment, I decided to really give this as much effort as Jamie or Adam would have given it on their show. I schooched down a little bit to get a better angle and poked it back in.

Nothing, it fell right back out.

I wiggled down more and crammed my toe way in there and left it. It started to feel like it was going to work. I left it for a few minutes longer, then it hit me. If my toe really does get stuck, my husband is going to have to help me get out of it. The first 10 years we were married he thought I was one of the smartest women alive. ( I…am was a fantastic actress ) In the last ten years he has changed his mind. It appears he might be right because the next thing I do is pull my toe and it’s stuck.

WOW it’s true!

No problem, I will just relax and it will fall out. NOT. I laid there thinking about this situation I got myself into. I think, maybe it is like Chinese handcuffs. So I push it in further! Yeah, not like Chinese handcuffs. It now hits me I am really STUCK. I can’t call my husband I just can’t! I decide to stand up. That in itself was a little bizarre. Arms and legs flailing in the air trying to stand with one foot stuck and soap bubbles everywhere.  Finally, I found myself standing but I was at a loss as to what to do. I thought maybe if I can twist the faucet upward, then I could pour some of that Pomegranate oil in the space between my toe and the metal. To get it facing upward, I had to turn toward the back wall.  This was both good and bad.  I could now reach the oil at the back of the tub but I found myself in an awkward position when I tried to apply it to the hole.  I finally figured it out, poured it in and waited.  About that time, the dogs started frantically scratching the door trying to get in.  I guess all the splashing to stand up gave them some cause for alarm.  I had to calm them down but I couldn’t get to the door to let them in.  What to do?  Someone was going to hear them and come to find out what all the panic was about.  Two minutes into their frenzy, I hear tippy tappy, tippy tappy, footsteps are coming my way.

A feeling of dredge over came me with every approaching foot step.  I start pulling with all my might to get my toe out.  The sound was getting louder and heavier.  It went from tippy tappy, tippy tappy, to thump tap, thump tap of dead weight. It was a walk of purpose.  A forceful walk on a mission.    OMGosh, it was my husband!   NO, NO, NO.  Terror starts to over take me.  It was all I could do not to pee myself and then… time slowed ddd ooo www nnn.   I started seeing things in slow-mo and could barely hear the approaching doom.  In true Macgruber style, I grabbed the belt to my robe slid it under my ankle and gave it a yank  to end all yanks.  Power that I have not felt since I was a young adult overcame me. And just as the door knob starts to turn, out it pops and down I go.

The dogs rush in frantic and panting.  My mind regains its focus and I  scrambled to grab my robe when all of a sudden the door closes. I never saw a face.  Who ever it was did not even bother to poke their head in.   I put my robe on and poked my head out just in time to see my daughter turning the corner and hear her  mumble that she was tired of hearing the dogs beg for me day in and day out.  “Why do I have to DO everything?” she said as she turned out of sight.

Such relief!  Not only is my toe free, free, free at last, but my husband will  never be the wiser.

I have to say this experiment proved VERY pausible!  I will never try that again! 

Now, after telling you all this, I feel I need to get in there and do something smart in front of my husband!

Bye yaw


The Southern Drawl

Country Man’s Wife‘s blog is so good this week and she added a little something at the bottom.  Two of her favorite blogger.  I fell in love with one and am eagerly awaiting the next post.  She’s a Maineiac.  Her post also gave me an idea for a post of my own.  And without further adieu:

The Maineiac made a “vlog” today.   For all us old farts, a “vlog” is a video blog.  I wish I were as brave as she.  Maineiac wondered about other people she interacted with on the computer.  Were they tall or  short?  What do they look like?  Do they talk with hands, eyes, feet or with an accent?  She got right on there and I was mesmerized.  I am not sure why.  Was it because the concept was so new and just so simple or was it the way she talked with her eyes?  Not sure.  A person’s accent. hmmm.   She talked a lot about it.  It got me to thinking about mine.

I live in the state of New Mexico.  But that has not always been the case.  I am a southern girl born and raised.  No really, southern.  I am way south, deep southern with an accent to match.  After a glass of wine, you can’t even understand a word I say.  Not due to being inebriated, it is more like being relaxed.   At that point, my accent becomes a cross between southern fried (and I mean fried) meets creole seasonin’ (I’m talkin’ gator hunters).  No offense intended, I have the deepest respect for fried chicken and gators.  Hubs has come to understand my accent and translates most of the time for me when we are  at parties, Navy Balls and family get togethers.  If it is too far out there even for him, he just reads my face.  Because not only is he an interpreter for the southern dialect he can also read facial expression, of which I have many.  I also have an infliction of sorts.  Whenever I am around folks that have a different accent or a peculiar mannerism, I tend to mirror it back.  NO I am not making fun of them at all.  I just copy what I see and hear.  I can’t help it. It only last for a little while after the encounter with that person and when ever I recant the conversation in my mind.  I don’t even know that I am doing it.  My husband and daughter hate it.  If we are at Wal-Mart and someone with an accent strikes up a conversation, they will just scoot off and leave me there.  They know my parrot-ism will kick into high gear and before you know it we will have an audience watching the show.  I have tried to rid myself of this curse but it is of no use.  Same as with my accent.  I even tried a speech therapist before I left the deep south for fear of not being able to obtain a job outside of my birthplace.  Anyone here will tell you that was a waste of money.  I guess I will be this way until the day I die.  I am just so happy I have the most wonderful boss in the world.  Did I mention she is and was born and raised in……………JAPAN.


side note:  I love this sharing thing.  Several blogs I have visited this month, included a link to one or two favorite blogs they frequent.  Plus this Blogger Award thingy, is awesome.  I love this because I am new here, just a bit over a month.  I have no idea what I am doing most of the time and no clue how to find blogs I love.  This way I can take the ones that found me, or the ones I stumbled upon and check out their favorites.  I know what you are thinking, that is what a blogroll is for. But if the person you love to read takes the time to mention another blogger, it sets them apart and makes you want to read them.  Some I found I  loved, others, not so much.  But that is okay because there is no good without the not so good.

Whacked out Wednesday – A Sunflower Seed By Any Other Name

I may not have mentioned that I throw  deliver mail with my husband but I do, on the two days a week I am not at my other job.  Yes, we are glorified USPS rural postal carriers.   On a good morning we manage to work well together, but on other days we just work.  This was one of those days….

I was running late.  My hair was just not making nice.  My clothes were left in the dryer over night and wrinkles were set in hard.  I couldn’t find my shoes and my makeup was half on.   “WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!” encourages my husband.  Of course, “encourages” that is my sarcasm shining through.   I throw everything down, walk out with one shoe in hand and an attitude that would make a bad dog run.

“Large letters to the back,” he croaks.  “Get busy,” he says, while doing nothing!  Or at least nothing I can see.  Okay, now I’m about to go postal on him…

Humph! I yelled…in my head. You see, I am a firm believer in picking your battles. I looked at him and contemplated going for the big one…instead I decide to walk away, cool off and get some sunflower seeds from the local corner store. I really like sunflower seeds.    They are nature at its finest and when humans add the salt it sets my soul at ease.  I try not to eat them often, but when mad they do the trick to occupy my thoughts and keep me from ringing my other half’s neck!

Our drive started pretty good.  Things had calmed down and I was getting into the music while sucking on a handful of seeds.  Before I knew it, my toes are tapping out the beat of the current song. Things were looking up until the man I married, the man that saw me getting ready this morning in frustration, the man I just gave a stern look to only minutes ago, looks at me with a look that said…THAT SAID…well I don’t know what it said, but I didn’t like the look!

Again, to battle or not to battle…decisions decisions.   I came to the conclusion that I would wait to fight the good fight another day.  It was already a hot, hot day and tempers flying would just make it all worse.  As I was pondering the question of whether to talk it out or not, I realized I had a hand full of empty sunflower seed shells in my hand and nowhere to put them.  So I rolled down the window and took all that rage I was feeling at the moment, wadded it up into those sunflower shells then I let ‘er rip with the biggest throw I could muster.

OMGOSH!  It landed on the car next to us!    The poor man’s window was down!  If any thing flew inside, he didn’t notice.  I think he was more concerned with the connect the dot puzzle of seeds on his windshield and car door.  He sort of gave me the same look I just saw on my hubby’s face.  I gave him the most apologetic look I could.  I stuck out my bottom lip and shrugged my shoulders.  I think I may have even batted my eyes a time or two in hopes that he would forgive my stupidity..   I then give a panicked look over to my husband.  I realize he saw nothing, notta, no clue as to what I just did.  He turned on his blinker and drove off.  I turned to look back at the poor man as we drove away.  I could not see his face because of his wipers racing at 90 miles an hour.  I keep watching in the rear view mirror.  All I could imagine was the sight of him pulling up beside us and cussing my poor, poor husband out.  I was beginning to think that all of this crumby day was all my doings.  Our next units of boxes were just ahead, and still no sight of the victim…. I mean gentleman.   I go about putting packages in their respective boxes, all the while, looking over my shoulder.  Ten minutes later, my heart is finally starting to settle down.  I grab the last of the out going mail and look up to find that polka dotted seed car driving S-L-O-W-L-Y by.  I pray he just keeps on driving.  I mouth, “I’m so sorry.”  He gives me a look, slightly waves and drives on.  My husband is a witness to this exchange and I can see he wants to ask what it was all about.  I have no idea what kind of look was on my face but it must have been good because he went about his business and never said a word.

I still look for that gentleman from time to time.  I have yet to see him and if I ever do see him again I will apologize profusely, beg for forgiveness and divert my husband away from the whole conversation.

aMusing Mondays – A Sticky Situation

Recently I purchased an iPhone.  I love it, LOVE IT.  Hubs bought a very fine case for it.  It is nice but really it is more his taste than mine.  I love the bling and this case did not fit the bill at all.  We took a family trip to El Paso to find a more appropriate case for my iphone.  There was a little kiosk that had hundreds of cases but only a few special ones.  I saw two that caught my eye.   One was a flashy pink and purple number the other a pink Playboy Bunny case  no bling.  I bought them both and we headed home.  The next day my girlfriend and I went to pick up some Swarovski Crystals in the big city of Las Cruces.  A few nights later my husband ordered a movie and was totally immersed in it.  I thought this would be a good night to decorate the bunny case with the new crystals.  I pulled out my trusty craft table, all my crystals, the glue and settled in for a night of creativity……

I was having trouble getting the tiny crystals on with the right amount of glue.  For some reason, it was gushing out without me squeezing it.    Finally, the glue had found its happy place and decided to cooperate.  I was down to the last crystal when disaster struck!  The glue made a bubble and exploded on the side of the case.  The crystal was covered in super glue and was slipping off heading for the floor.  I did not want it to hit my hardwood floor in fear of it sticking and leaving a nasty spot so….. I stopped it with my lip.  Have you ever had Super Glue on your lip?  Let me tell you, it is scary!   Instantly my lip began to dry out.  As in, it shriveled UP with the crystal attached.  I stuck my tongue to my lip out of instinct… I guess.


I quickly discovered my tongue was glued to my lip and FRONT teeth.  Sheer panic will engulf your body when you realize your tongue is stuck to your front teeth!    I opened my mouth to free my tongue.  It worked but not without taking a little piece of my lip with it.  I thought I was in the clear and started to ask Hub if he  ever  had super glue on his skin. OMG!  There was still active glue on my lips and when they touched, they sealed shut!  You need only imagine what this looked like.  I mean look at what it does to  fingers.  I was grateful Hub was deeply involved in his movie.  I was also very fortunate that the glue had sealed my mouth shut before I called attention to myself.  I wiggled my finger in the side of my mouth and slowly pried my lips apart.  I was in shock.  I sat with my mouth wide open and prayed that the glue would hurry up and dry.  All I felt was shrivel, shrivel, shrivel.

I was silent for about 15 minutes.  In part, to keep all the fresh glue areas from touching each other and sticking again.  The other part, I didn’t want my husband to get wind of what I just did.  So, while I sat there with my mouth wide open waiting for the glue to dry, I hid behind the newspaper praying he did not ask me a question or want to talk about what just happened on the movie.  It did not take long until I was secretly peeling it off.  Trying to get the glue off without taking your skin with it is tough, very tough.  My advice… keep all glues away from your face.  And if you do get it in your mouth, let it dry before you talk and don’t tell your spouse.  I have a feeling he will never let you live it down.  Thank goodness my spouse does not read this blog!

aMusing Mondays: The Door

I wrote this back in August.


I love my mountain home in August.  It is above a hundred degrees all around us but yet we sit at 68 degrees today.  Houses here are not equipped with air-conditioning, just ceiling fans and opened windows.  The only complaint I have is when I cook the house gets a bit warm.  Since Mother Nature has started playing its cruel but inevitable game of hot flash with me, I considered getting central air.  Could you imagine that?  You are sitting out side in the evening, the quietness enveloping you while gazing at the stars then all of a sudden the sound of an a/c unit kicks in, brummmmmmm.   Heaven forbid, not in my back yard, we are getting a screen door!

Hub wanted a door with iron bars on it.  It was made of steel equipped with a dead bolt hole.  I wanted more of the outside in, not the other way around.  My dream was of an old fashioned wooden screen door.  You know the kind at Grams house.  You would run so fast out the door you would forget to close it.  No worries man, that wound up spring would slam it shut for you.  Somewhere in the back of the house you would hear someone yelling, “Don’t slam the door!”  Aaaaah, there is just no other sound on earth like a slamming screen door.  It takes me back to my childhood and my boys when they were little. I love it.

As we are heading back up the hill with my new all wood screen door, I was reminded that the dogs were going to hate it.  I forgot about their freedom, their connection with the outdoors and all things wild, their prized and greatly appreciated doggie door.  As soon as this screen door goes up, their independence goes away.  Shoot.

I will never forget trying to teach these silly dogs how to use it.  It was such a foreign concept for them, so I decided to show them.  I crawled out the little door and then back in over and over again. (You must remember I was less than 100 pounds way back then)  It was not until I offered up hot dogs did they find the concept more appealing.  After a couple of days working with them all, they had it down pat and the word freedom was born in their heads.  Their games became far more fun.  Chase is an all time favorite of all dogs and cats but now my pooches had a new element…. a hoop.  Well, a square hoop, but a hoop all the same.  They would fly through the door with a single leap. If you studied them, you would swear they were having a contest of how far back you could leap and still make it through the hole.   Oh they loved their newborn freedom.

When I got home from work the next day, hub had one of the doors up.   It was a simple install with hinges on the outside of the door facing.  Aaah beautiful, it just added to the charm of the little wooden door.  I helped him hang the other door, which proved to be a bit trickier but we did it.  We  opened the doors and let the wonderful breezes flow through the house.  A little while later I heard a SLAM.  It scared the bejeebies out of me.  Hub poked his head in to make sure he was not in trouble.  “Not at all.” I told him, “It brings back memories.” I said with shot nerves and a crooked smile. Hmmmmm.

Later that night we locked up and settled in to our night time    routine.  All was well until Mutt and I heard a noise outside the window.     She was off to protect her territory and I peeked out the window to see if I could find what the noise was.  I could hear her running down the hall at full speed.  She flies by my legs and in one of those flying leaps she had been perfecting over the years, she dives through the doggie door.  OUCH!  We both had forgotten what was on the other side.  It was that dang screen   door!  Poor, Poor Mutt.   It was all so fast but from what I saw, she hit it pretty hard. Her head was squeezed in-between the doggie door   and screen door much like a head in a ThighMaster…. with her rear end racing for the lead. The word accordion comes to mind.  It was shocking to say the least.  She stood up and backed away slowly never taking her eyes off the door.   It was decided right then and there we would have to prop open the door at night so she could fulfill her duties as watch dog.   You can tell she appreciates the efforts we have made to give her back her freedom, but now she walks to the doggie door with a more slow and refined approach, looks to see if the screen door is open then makes a tiny but forceful leap out into great outdoors.

Until next time… give those wonderful pets of ours lots of love and understanding.  The rewards are priceless.  Oh, and don’t let that screen door slam. 

Fundamental Fridays: Family ……….part 2

WARNING: If you missed last weeks post, This side of the Family….part 1, then you will not have a clue what is going on this week  And of course my disclaimer:  I was somewhere between 8 and 12 when all this was going on so the little incidentals maybe a bit fuzzy but the main events REALLY did happen.

I remember walking up to that trough of water and looking at it.  It was the color of that chocolate bull in the back yard!  I was NOT getting in.  I demanded clean water and I wanted it all to myself.   I was told to get in and get in right then, or else!Gulp.The water was ice cold just like my night!  I was so ready to get back home to my comfy warm bed and to my indoor restroom, complete with toilet, sink and bubble bath tubby.  I was fed up.

As soon as I got out of the tub, I ran to the bed and claimed the very center.  I had no idea which one of my cousin’s was the heating pad; but for prime real estate, I was willing to take a chance.  I was not going to get bumped again.  As everyone settled in and starting to drift off, I realized I had to use the bathroom.I asked my cousin beside me where the bathroom was.  She said out in the field.  I asked her again, and again she said, out in the field.  She was serious.  She asked me if I remembered the little shed that gave me the black-eye.  I said yes.  She tells me it is not called an out-house for nothing.  It is the bathroom.  I laid there stunned.  It was pitch dark outside, the out-house was at least an acre away, and let’s not forget the BULL who helped me get my black eye in the first place.  My mind’s eye was picturing him standing behind the out-house in wait of a little unsuspecting kid. Yep, there was no way on God’s green earth that I was going out there.  I believe one of the other cousins had the same fears as me; because later that night I found myself lying at the foot of the bed again without covers and icy wet!  I WANTED TO GO HOME.

The third day was hot I mean really hot.  We rode the horses.  Played hide and seek but no stick ball in the field.  As long as I was there I was not going to get dirty again. My parents told me after dinner we would be heading back home.  Home to my little world I called paradise.  It is funny, you think your life is so horrible until you live horrible for three days.  We all sat down to eat and I noticed the fan was blowing the air out the window instead of in!  I needed air people.  I suggested turning the fan around but that was quickly dismissed.  They said it makes for a cooler house this way.  I remembered thinking they are ALL nuts and I share their blood.  (we did not know the term genes back then)  Of course, now I know the reasoning behind Grams logic.

That summer will forever be etched in my mind.  I both loved it and hated it, but no matter what, I am grateful I had that time in my life.  After I became an adult, I went back to Grams.  The house had not changed one iota.  The lay out of the furniture was the same.  The structure of the house the same; however there was one improvement.  An indoor bathroom, equipped with sink, toilet and a claw foot tub, genius.  And guess where they put it….on the back porch!

When I looked back for the last time, I saw that little home for what is really was.   It was no more than a little tiny farmhouse.  The porch that I remembered as huge is now no bigger than a minute.  And that big kitchen, small as well.  In fact, I have a hard time seeing how we all packed into that little farm house my daddy grew up in.

I know, I know I skipped D and E.  I will return to them next week.

Until next time

aMusing Mondays – Wishy Washy

A while back my washing machine started making funny noises.  It would cough, crawl and leave little wee wee spots all over the floor.  Mutt would head straight out the doggie door as soon as she saw me with the clothes basket.    This kind of stuff freaked her out.  Well, I didn’t need a crystal ball to tell me a new bill was in my future.  I decided to go all out.  I got a brand spanking new front end loader with, get this, the matching dryer.  Kelly Rippa would be proud of me.  I too can come home from a long days work, strip, throw the “worn all day” clothes in the dryer’s REFRESH cycle and out they come smelling clean just as her commercial promises.

Mutt was so excited to see them pull out the old machine and very curious as to what was coming in.  It took 4 guys to get them in and set them up.  Apparently, the washer has 800 pounds of weight attached to the bottom.  Delivery dude said it’s needed to keep the machine from doing cartwheels while in the spin cycle. Hmm.   As soon as they left, I grabbed the clothes basket and out the door went Mutt.  I turned it on and saw that it would take TWO hours to wash!  What is that all about?  How can this be energy efficient?  My old rock and roll washer only took about 25 minutes to wash anything.  I sat and watched it for a minute then came to the conclusion it was saving on water, not electricity.

After a while, I noticed Mutt was no where to be seen.  I went to call her at the back door and caught a glimpse of her in the laundry room.  She was sitting in front of the washer watching the clothes through the front door window.      She was mesmerized, in a trance of some sort.  Soon it kicked into spin.  She stood up with her back  hackled.  She was ready to bolt.  Her head was just a-weaving back and forth.  It started making a whistling sound as it hit full spin and that was all it took.  She high tailed it out the dog door then turned to announce her disappointment!  She must have barked for 10 minutes.  Eventually, she crept back in slowly and quietly, as if the washer could hear her walk. Tippy-toeing back to the laundry room, she quickly peeked in several times.  After her curiosity was satisfied, she took a seat and waited for the next show.

The other day at work one of our vendors came in with a few goodies in his truck.     He tells me his hummingbird feeder bottle brushes are perfect for cleaning out the lint vent of your dryer.  Well, I’ll be dang. I thought this was a marvelous idea and took one home to try it.  I could not wait to see how it worked.  I pulled the filter out and stuck the brush in, swished it side-to-side then pulled it out.  It looked like a fuzzy hamster had attached its self to the end of the stick.    I looked down the hole and found even more lint.  I poked it way down in there again, then without warning… Swoosh!  It was gone.  It was as if something just jerked it out of my hand and sucked it down to oblivion!  Mutt was mildly entertained by my reaction.  I know I should have panicked or at least worried really hard but all I could do was laugh.  The more I studied my situation the harder I giggled.  Every time I took a breath, Mutt’s tail started wagging uncontrollably.  We were having a moment of laughter together.  It was awesome.  Finally, I regained my composure and came to the conclusion it could not stay down there.

A screwdriver was in order.  After a brief search, we- Mutt and I- were ready to tackle this problem.  I started unscrewing every screw I could find.  The filter housing would not budge.  After talking it   over with Mutt,  (see photo) I decided the answer to my problem lied within.    I poked my head in the dryer’s opening and proceeded to unscrew all the screws I could find.  I still could not get it to come out.   “DANG IT”, I yelled and at this, Mutt was all about finding out what was happening.  She struggled to poke her head in too.  I started laughing again and I could feel her whole body swaying back and forth….we laugh a lot.  She soon got tired of all this work and giggles and tried to remove herself.  But her head was wedged in and she couldn’t get it out.  Her eyes said full panic mode!  I could not move either.  I am not as skinny as I once was and she’s a bit on the hefty side, as well.  Front-end washer and dryers are placed on pedestals to make it easier to load and unload.  However, once you get stuck in one it makes it hard to get your balance just right so you can get back out.  She wiggled and tugged until she was free then I heard the dog door and again her disapproval.  I finally found the last remaining screw and removed the housing.  The brush was resting right at the top.  I quickly replaced the filter and shut the dryer door.  As I was cleaning up, I saw three little screws.  Oh boy, what to do?  Without a word to anyone, I took my broom and sweep them under the dryer.  Hey, if I need them I know where they are.