Spring In My Neck Of The Woods

This week, Writer's Workshop asked what Spring looks like in my neighborhood. Well, actually, it's kind of a bad time to ask. I'd like to say Spring looks like this...

I took this a couple of years ago at the Old Mill in North Little Rock

But this year, Spring in Arkansas is insane. Monday, Spring was not taking its medication, that's for sure. That's when Spring sent my neighbors in the next town over a tornado that did this...

source

I don't want to make light of the situation here (or the even more grim situation in Alabama), but Spring looked very, very ugly on Monday.



Tuesday, Spring didn't look much better. Spring sent more storms and flooding rains to my town.



Photo courtesy of Ashton Snowden

But, as the mentally ill sometimes do, Spring thought it was funny. I mean, why else would this happen?

I will not make a "walk on water" joke... I will not make a "walk on water" joke...
Photo courtesy of Ashton Snowden

Wednesday, Spring's twisted sense of humor continued. This time, directed at my pants and sweater. I've never liked birds. Now I like them less. Thanks, Spring.

A crappy way to start the day

But then, Spring seemed to snap out of it...

For 10 minutes, anyway.




Seriously, 10 minutes after the picture above



Her mood got worse...

And before long, she was throwing a massive fit. Again.

(There's supposed to be a video here... but I don't think there is. Spring probably ate it. I'll try to add it back later.)

Then, just like that, she was fine after a 15 or so more minutes.

So basically, Spring in my neighborhood looks like a unmedicated lunatic.

Spring, if this is how you're going to act, kindly take your leave of us. Or go back to just being annoying with your pollen and temperature mood swings.


Don't forget, you can text REDCROSS to 90999 to give $10 and help the victims of Spring's outburst. Or maybe the money will help her afford her meds. Either way, we'd all be grateful.

I'm linking this post up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

Wordless Wednesday: Thank you, Betty White!

Finding out Betty White, whom I adore, named her book after my blog totally
makes up for the fact that a bird pooped on me this morning!! (True story.) 
Also, when should I expect my free, autographed copy?



Vilonia: The Next Town Over

You can follow this link to donate, or you can text REDCROSS to 90999 to give $10

Severe weather hit Arkansas again last night. It's just a reality of Spring in the South. But this time, the reality was literally close to home.

I live in Greenbrier, a small town of about 4,000 people. We've got a few restaurants, grocery store, other odds and ends. It's not fancy, but it's homey. About 20 miles away (give or take, depending on if you want to take back roads or the highway) is Vilonia. It's a town just like ours. Not counting the larger city between us, it's essentially the "next town over". In high school football terms, they are our chief rival. Yet, despite the rivalry, there's a connection between our towns. Many of the people in my neighborhood, at my church, etc. grew up in Vilonia but ended up in Greenbrier. The same holds true in reverse.

Last night, David and I kept a watchful eye on the weather. We're both kind of weather geeks and had our radar apps fired up on our phones, as well as the TV as much as possible. (The satellite, of course, kept going on and off.) Tornado warning after tornado warning was issued for our area. At one point, I looked at him and said "Vilonia's about to get blown off the map." Sadly, I wasn't kidding. The concerned voices on the TV confirmed the situation was grim. Vilonia was in the path of a violent storm.

It's still too early for official damage reports but the town took a direct hit from a very large tornado. The people who know about these sorts of things expect it to be an EF4 or EF5, meaning winds would have been in the 200 mph neighborhood. (Update: It may have been closer to a EF2 or EF3 - so winds not as high as initially thought.) It was likely a half-mile or more wide. 4 people lost their lives. The good news, if there is such a thing, is that all the other residents of the town have been accounted for.

National Guard arriving in Vilonia
Photo and story at KATV

Other areas of the state sustained damage as well last night. In the last couple of weeks, many parts of the country have sustained storm damage. But, it's different when it's your county. When it's your neighbors. When, if the storm had taken a slightly different turn, it would have been you, not them. My heart breaks for them. Because, when you're only miles apart, it's not really "them" at all. It's "us".

The reports are mixed, but best I can tell, only emergency personnel and residents are being allowed in right now.

I know that relief efforts will be organized. People will be cared for. Heaven will be flooded with prayers. That's what we do here. But, in the meantime, please consider donating to the Red Cross so they can continue to provide for the most immediate needs from this and other disasters.

You can follow this link to donate, or you can text REDCROSS to 90999 to donate $10

To add insult to injury, Arkansas is going to get another round of severe weather tonight.

If you live in Faulkner County, it's important you go to Code Red and sign up for phone alerts. (This is a free service.) The news does a great job of warning us, the #arwx tag on Twitter is helpful, friends who call or text to make sure you know you're in danger are wonderful (thanks, guys!!), but the more warning systems, the better, right? This is especially important here in Greenbrier where our tornado sirens are currently not operational.

The Legend of the Gaudy Cake: 2011 edition

Somewhere in my archives, you can find the full story of the Legend of the Gaudy Cake. But I'm too lazy to search for the link, so let me summarize:

When I was in college, long before I took any cake decorating classes or developed any skill in the matter, I decorated a cake. But not just any cake. A cake that instantly became family lore.

You see, I was spending Easter Sunday as I always do... with Dena's family (my extended family). Sometime on Saturday, Dena's mom asked me if I would jazz up the cake she had baked. She handed me some icing and several bowls full of various candies, Peeps, coconut and green food coloring, etc. Being the overachiever that I am, I wanted to do a bang-up job.

So I put all the goodies on the cake.

Dena's mom came back into the kitchen, saw the cake covered in all manner of goop and was visibly taken aback. "Oh. Um, I didn't mean you had to use ALL the decorations," she said when she finally composed herself.

We laughed hysterically. And we continued laughing the next day when the cake was proudly displayed amongst the Easter spread.

Every year since, I pay homage to the original gaudy cake.

Behold... this year's creation. (Once again, watermarked so no one reports me to Cake Wrecks.)

Since I've started actually decorating cakes, I spend a lot of time trying NOT to be gaudy, so the level of horror has slipped in the last few years. But, upon seeing this, Dena declared

"You. Are. Back!!!"

And then said "So is it a village of Peeps worshipping at a Peep totem pole?"

Yeah, sure, we'll go with that.

Celebrity Don'ts: The Musical

In recent weeks, I've directed my rants at garbage bags, chewing tobacco, and phrases I hate. Why not target celebrities next, right? By their very nature, celebs are everywhere. It's impossible to pass a store check out lane, turn on the TV, or log onto Twitter without being bombarded by the latest ridiculousness of the rich and famous. So, I've complied a list of tips I think might help the hoards of celebrities who read this blog. For added fun, I've decided to approach it musically - in the form of song titles. Because, you know, why not?

10. Don't be cruel  You're entitled to dislike people. But using Twitter and every other media outlet to bash other celebs is petty. Are you listening, Donald Trump? Or anyone who has ever been on The View? Please leave petty celeb bashing where it belongs... here in the blogosphere.

9. Don't fear the reaper I totally endorse a little nip/tuck here and there or a well-placed Botox injection. But age gracefully, not terrifyingly. Ask yourself "Would Joan Rivers have this procedure?" Is she would, don't do it.

8. Don't go breaking my heart If you're famous, you probably shouldn't marry another famous person. This might work for a few couples, but generally, one Hollywood ego is enough to fill up a house. There's not room for a second. Celebrities marrying celebrities is really only beneficial for Vegas odds-makers and divorce attorneys.

7. Don't cry for me, Argentina If you have access to a large audience, use it wisely. Promote causes you care about. Be involved in making the world a better place. But do so reasonably. Bono is probably the only celebrity who is cool enough to pull of extreme political involvement. The rest of you, not so much.



Yeah, I did a little
family-friendly edit.
Flipping the bird... he he he



6. Don't worry, be happy You're rich and famous and probably thin. Life's not so bad. What's with the morose skulking and constant angst? Would it kill you to smile? Or brush your hair? Or act like giving an interview isn't causing you physical pain? Yeah, you, Kristen Stewart.

5. That don't impress me much Again, you're rich and famous. We get it. You have expensive cars and you fly in private jets. Cool. But you're not better than other people because of it. And you're not above social norms or the rule of law. Be good stewards of what you've been given. Don't pick up hookers. And don't shoplift. Geeze.

4. Don't rock the jukebox Are you an actor? Then act. Are you a singer? Then sing. Are you Kristin Chenoweth? If not, then don't assume you can do both. Seriously, I get that a lot of creative types are multi-talented, but it is not necessary for all of you to attempt to cross over into another genre. Did we learn nothing from Country Strong?

3. Don't go chasin' waterfalls or claiming to have tiger blood or that you've been abducted by aliens or whatever else seems like a good idea when you're high . Basically, enough with the gratuitous drug and alcohol use. You're not immortal. But you are a role model, whether you want to be or not. You're in the public eye. Be responsible. Or just not bat**** crazy.

2. Don't speak unless you are sure there is not a camera or open mic around. Don't make inappropriate slurs about referees on camera and then wonder why you got fined for it, Kobe Bryant. Don't leave tirades on your daughter's voicemail, Alec Baldwin. Don't, Mel Gipson, just don't. This doesn't stop at audio equipment either. Don't let someone take a picture of you with a bong, Michael Phelps. (cc: Miley Cyrus) Don't send pictures of your little quarterback to people, Brett Farve. Don't make sex tapes, everyone.

1. Don't stop believing! Pretty much, disregard everything I just said. You are famous! Why wouldn't you wear dresses made of meat? Or throw cell phones at your assistant.. get married 8 times... spell your name with a dollar sign...  or, well, you get the idea. The world is your oyster! You can do whatever you want!! Just know the rest of us use your behavior to feel better about our own lives. "Well, my husband might leave the toilet seat up, but at least he didn't cheat on me with a porn star and catch an STD."

I'm linking this post up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

Wordless Wednesday: Weathering the Storm

Okay, maybe not "wordless"... but less words, for sure.





Maize's severe weather protocol



What's in your wallet?

Don't worry, I haven't teamed up with Capital One and their band of hilarious Vikings. Besides, if I were going to run off with a salty Scandinavian, I think we all know who I would pick. Anyway, I do like the "What's in your wallet" commercials. And I also like bloggers that, from time to time, spill the contents of their purse and tell you all about it. I don't know why. I just do.

That made today's "What do the contents of your purse 'say' about you?" question over at Mama Kat's irresistible to me. Plus, I'm sure you've all lost a lot of sleep wondering what I schlep around all day. Well, you'll rest easy tonight then, because here are the treasures stored in the inner-sanctum of my purse. And, bonus points, another chance for me to obnoxiously label photographs. Whooo!

1. My wallet: It doesn't really say much about me. Probably because it was a gift from my mom. But it keeps my debit card safe and secure, and is home to receipts I shove in there in case this is the month I decide to balance the bank account. It never is.

2. Prescription acid reducer: Given my incredibly healthy diet, ideal weight, flawless family history, and propensity to avoid stress, it shocks me that I need to be treated for acid reflux, but alas. (It's in my purse because I'm supposed to take it in the morning. Having it with me increases the chances I'll remember. Thinking about it before I stumble out the door for work? Not going to happen.)

3. ID badge and Mardi Gras beads: This says "I'm a purse slob who hasn't cleaned my handbag since at least early March when I attended a conference for work and some random dude gave me Mardi Gras beads.... which I did not earn."

4. Keys: If whatever it is I do now doesn't work out, I have a bright future as a janitor. I mean, seriously. Do I need this many keys? No. In fact, every evening I try to unlock the house with my office key. Every. Single. Evening. Keys are not my friend.

5. Ziploc bag full of lip gloss, hand sanitizer, saline solution etc.: Did Savannah just write a post today about how I bought her a business card case because she threatened to take a Ziploc bag to a blog conference? Little bit, yeah. But, in my defense, this was my "liquids and gels" bag required by airport security. When last I flew. See #3.

6. Superman Happy Meal toy: I don't eat at McDonald's much, because, well, eeew. But when I do, I usually get a Happy Meal. And when they ask me if the toy is for a girl or a boy, I say "You can keep the toy." Yet, this baffles them and they always throw in a toy. They probably think I'm some horrible mother who won't let her child play with toys. In fact, I am a non-parent who just likes the portion control of a Happy Meal. But whatever. So I toss the toys in my purse and promise to give them to a little cousin. Sometimes I do. Sometimes they sit in my purse for months.

7. Four varieties of gum: This says "I am the gum supplier for the 3 back rows of our church building". It's okay. I don't mind sharing. But I do mind hearing "Oh, never mind. I don't actually like that kind." So, I keep several different flavors. Okay, fine, the truth is that I have to try every new flavor of gum that comes out (unless it's spearmint or cinnamon). And being able to provide a gum smorgasbord to other people just makes me look cool. Right?

8. Inhaler: Obviously, this shouts "I like oxygen." Actually, my asthma used to be out of control. Now I take a daily medicine and I have to use my inhaler, um, twice a year? Nevertheless, if you've ever had to go to the hospital because of an asthma attack - even if it was more than a decade ago - not having your inhaler within easy reach at all times feels like going in public naked. Except I've never gone in public naked, but I have had to go to the hospital because of an asthma attack. So, inhaler in reach at all times.

9 and $10. A stack of papers: I used to carry a very small purse so I couldn't fill it with crap. Somewhere along the line, that changed. And now I fill it with crap. That's a bill I need to pay, a stack of receipts, a boarding pass (see #3 again), lots of other papers... and a $10. Because we're in a recession and haphazardly tossing cash in a pile of trash says "Responsible".

What's not in the picture? Of course I have a pocket in my purse with things pre-menopausal women need. Do you really want to see photographic evidence of that? Yeah, didn't think so. Also, my iPhone didn't make it in the pictures because it was busy taking the pictures. And the Blackberry I am required to carry for work also didn't make it in the pictures because it's currently charging. And because it's old and janky. And a Blackberry.

So there you have it... the items that collectively say "I'm a pack mule". Truth me told, I could stick my debit card and my phone in my pocket and be fine 90% of the time. But, come on, you never know when someone might offer you a million dollars if you can give them a piece of Key Lime Pie gum and a Kohl's receipt. I'm not taking any chances.

I'm not sure why handbag voyeurism interests me, but it does. Prior to this, I'd considered doing a guest series on here with other gals sharing the contents of their bags. So, if you're a fellow purse peeper and might want to play along, let me know. And, if you're my massage therapist who I know reads my blog: yeah, yeah, I already know that if I would ditch a bunch of this junk, you wouldn't have to work quite so hard on my shoulder. I'll see what I can do.

Things that make my ears bleed

A few weeks ago, Kerri had a great post about words you just shouldn't say. Chief among them: moist. I couldn't agree more. It's pretty much the grossest word ever. I mean, it even has the sound of "oy" in the middle. As in: oy vey. Clearly, you should avoid it at all cost.

But what about words or phrases that might not be so bad if you weren't bombarded with them 10,000 times a day? Yeah, I've got a list of those...

• Epic:  Originally, this word was used to describe reaaallly long poems about heroes and crazy adventures only heroes could undertake. You know, like the Iliad and the Odyssey. Have you ever blinded a cyclops? No. If you had, that would be epic. What is not epic? The fact that you had dinner at P.F. Chang's. Or that you found a $10 bill while doing the laundry. Or, as much as I'd like to tell you that I had to clean up an epic amount of dog vomit the other night when Maize got sick, I didn't. I had to clean up a freaking lot, but was it epic? No. It was an event slightly out of the ordinary but not cataclysmic. Not epic. (And don't get me started on describing everything that goes wrong as an epic fail.)
• Swagger: I blame Kobe Bryant for this. Ever since his "Hate my game, hate my swagger" ad, everyone suddenly wants to talk about their swagger. You know who doesn't have swagger? Anyone who constantly talks about swagger. Does Kobe walk into a room command attention? Sure. Is that swagger? Yeah, maybe. But does random WASP from the suburbs need to discuss his or her swagger in a Facebook status? No. In fact, doing so might be one time when "epic fail" is not be out of line. Further proof it's played out: the Black Eyed Peas used it in their lyrics.



Source

• Lolcats speak: "I can has cheezburger?" No. No you can't. Why? Because, unless you are my two year old niece and have yet to command the English language, there is no reason to talk like that. I've got nothing against pictures of animals doing funny things. I've got nothing against speaking on behalf of animals. I may or may not assume our animals have British accents. But I do not get the appeal of constructing sentences and spelling things as if you are some sort of gangster Yoda. And I absolutely do not get how widespread this is. People I consider of great intellect seem to rather enjoy this. It's just not for me. I can haz Advil for my headache now?
• Literally: Okay, I'm telling on myself with this one too. Because I literally misuse "literally" all the time. I get hyperbole. I adore hyperbole. But I did not literally almost die from a paper cut. Nor did 95% percent of the things happen that we claim literally happened. The exception: Sam Seaborn, er, Rob Lowe's character on Parks and Rec. "Literally"- with heavy emphasis and pronounced "LIT-ra-lly" is his catchphrase. It's kind of adorable when he does it. I literally can't get mad at Sam Seaborn. No, really, I can't. He's fictional. It breaks my heart, but it's true.
• Could care less: "Audreya, I could care less about what makes your ears bleed."  Awesome. Thank you. Because if you could care less, it means you care. It's if you couldn't care less that we would have a problem. Couldn't. If you could not care less, you've reached a point where you literally don't care. If you could care less, you're just using the idiom incorrectly.

There are many more words and phrases I could put on this epic list, but I figured it was best to wrap it up while I still haz swagger, though I literally could care less about swagger.

~What expressions are you not crazy about but could live with if you weren't subjected to them so frequently?~

I suspect "random" will make several people's list. It doesn't bother me but I know many who find it groan-worthy.

Kitchen Mojo

I've made no real secret about the fact that 2011 is the year I attempt to become a decent person. I've been keeping my house relatively picked up, even going so far as to do crazy things like folding laundry on a regular basis. Aside from a few exceptions here and there, I've been trying to be a little less ranty on my blog. The other day, I said hello to a stranger. I feel like, little by little, I'm making some headway.

And, we've been eating out less. That's been a huge contributor in my weight loss. Plus, apparently it's cheaper. Who knew? The only problem is that, while my husband can grill a mean BBQ chicken breast, there are only so many times I can eat that without getting bored. I can eat it many, many times, mind you, because I love BBQ chicken breast. But eventually, I get bored. David, not so much. He's as laid back about food as he is about everything else. If he's served something different, he'll eat it. But, if not, he'll eat the same thing 100 days in a row. (See also: chicken chef salad, no onions... his lunch at least 4 out of 5 days a week.) So, as the one who gets bored more easily, it seems fair that a change in the dinner routine would be something I would need to address.

No problem, right? I mean, I can do this:

Cake I made last fall

So surely some sort of casserole would be a breeze, right? Except baking and cooking are very different. And while I can cook in the strict definition of the word, I don't cook. As in: I can follow a recipe and come up with something edible, but I'm not all Paula Deen about it. I'm not inspired to cook. I don't hear about a dish and think "Wow, I want to make that!" Instead, I think "It would take me an hour just to locate all those ingredients in the store. And then, geesh, it sounds like I will dirty up 17 different things just to prepare it. Pizza, anyone?"

Nevertheless, I'm trying.

I'm trying to acquire some kitchen mojo.

So, as with any area where I require advisement, I Tweetbooked it. (Posted it on Twitter and Facebook. Get it? Okay, I'll stop now.) Actually, first I Googled it. But apparently "quick chicken recipes" returns lots of results for things that have to be marinated for 24 hours and so forth. Um, yes, in the scheme of all time and space, 24 hours is quick. In the scheme of walking in the door from work, preparing dinner, and sitting down to eat it, I'm really looking for something in the 45 minutes or less range.

The Tweetbooking resulted in several promising leads. (And one smart aleck joke from my cousin about how quick chickens are hard to catch and I should just buy an already-dead one at the store.)

I settled on Salsa Chicken, as recommended by Sunshine. Since she has a whole, fabulous blog about cooking called Make Life Delicious, it seemed like a legit place to start.

She also mentioned Swiss Chicken. I almost said "Eeew, gross!" but I didn't want to be rude. And as part of my Decent Person Reconditioning, I decided that she had been polite enough to suggest it, I could give her the courtesy of a read through for recipe as well.

Which caused me to promptly realize I'm an idiot.

You see, in my mind, I hear "Swiss" and I automatically picture mushrooms. I hate mushrooms. You're now convinced of my insanity, aren't you? It's just that my brain associates "Swiss" with "mushroom Swiss burger". I don't know why. In fact, I've been to Switzerland; I don't think I saw a mushroom the whole time I was there. Furthermore, I big puffy heart love cheese. So why on earth I don't hone in on the cheese is entirely beyond me. But anyway, lesson learned. Lots of recipes use Swiss cheese - or Swiss in other ways - and have no relationship to mushrooms whatsoever.

Long story, well, still pretty long: I ended up going with the Swiss Chicken.

Holy Awesomeness, Batman!!

It was fast - as in, I prepared it while I was putting away the other groceries. It was easy - as in, it only required a few ingredients and I didn't have to was 17 different utensils. And it was GOOD!

David made yummy sounds. But only after he had finished. Because, even for him - the world's fastest eater - his plate was cleaned in record time. And I wasn't far behind, which for me - the world's slowest eater - is really saying something.

I'll definitely be making it again. (And I'll be trying the Salsa Chicken too.) (And then, at some point, maybe something not made from chicken.)

Clearly I have a long way to go before I have full-on kitchen mojo, but melty, cheesy, tasty chicken - and not starting any fires or otherwise injuring myself while preparing it - is definitely a step in the right direction.

I am, however, still accepting QUICK and EASY recipes, so feel free to pass any along you might enjoy.

And, since I've bragged on it so much, you can get Sunshine's recipe here

(Yes, I realize I just wrote a bazillion pages about chicken, but I'm excited, okay?)

I'd rather shove bamboo shoots under my nails...

...than go shopping.

I realize I have ovaries and therefore am expected to like shopping, but I don't.

I pretty much hate it.

That's not to say I don't like acquiring new things, because I do. But I prefer to acquire them online. I can sit at the computer at any hour I choose, I don't have to fight crowds, I don't have to play the "Can I hold it or do I have to use the public restroom?" game, I just find what I want, click a few buttons and VOILA... things appear on my doorstep a few days later.

Except for clothes.

Sure, some people can quite successfully purchase clothing on line. I am not one of those people. I am 5'4" and have a body type akin to a misshapen yam. So unless it's a t-shirt, the chances I can purchase an article of clothing without trying it on are slim to none.

Nevertheless, Easter is approaching. While most Sundays find me wearing the same things I wear to work all week (neutral pants, semi-dressy tops, etc.) Easter has always been a dressed-up day. After church, we have a huge family dinner (huge both in the amount of food and the number of relatives in attendance) and a serious picture-taking session. I rather enjoy it. That is, once I find something to wear. And once I get over the fact that I almost always end up buying something from Dress Barn. Barn?! What a horrible, ego-destroying name. Yet, their stuff seems to fit me better than other places. And at least they don't have hay in the dressing room floor. That's something, right?

Anyway, I schlep from store to store hoping this is the year the first dress I try on is magical and perfect. But it never is. So I spend hours in dressing rooms, getting sweaty from trying to cram myself into a dress while simultaneously trying not to fall out the door and splay my half-naked self across the floor. Not that that's happened before or anything.

But this year? This should be the year. Why? Because I've lost 25 pounds. That's right - TWENTY-FIVE! I'm pretty jazzed about it! And according to Clinton and Stacey, every 10 pounds lost should equate to one clothing size lost. Except Clinton and Stacey are liars. I am still wearing the same size as before the weight loss. Okay, fine, perhaps they aren't liars and not all "general rules" apply to all people. Or, perhaps- as my mother suggested- my clothes were entirely too tight beforehand and now fit properly. Whatever. So yeah, even the 25 pounds of weight loss hasn't motivated me to shop.

In the past, I've tried to browse various stores online and at least get an idea if they have something that I might be interested in, but it never works. After about 5 minutes, I've abandoned all hope and moved on to browsing pillows and dining room sets.

All that to say that I have yet to psyche myself up for brick-and-mortar shopping. My online browsing hasn't gone well. I have no freaking idea what I'm going to wear for Easter.

But I kind of dig this quilt...



Story of my life... even the quilt doesn't come in the right size. Boo.
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