Monday, March 28, 2011

Mental Image

I give hubby a hard time, all the time.  I can't seem to help myself.  Recently, we were sitting at Whataburger and he asked me something, I can't even remember what it was.  It was something we had already discussed, or he already knew. (Yes, he suffers brain farts, too)  When I reminded him, his excuse was, "I just have too many different irons in the skillet!"  I nearly choked on my fries and said, "Why would you put irons in the skillet, don't you mean irons in the fire?"  Then, I got the mental image and couldn't help laughing out loud. (I don't laugh much)  He said what's so funny?  I replied... I feel a blog post coming on, to which he responded and not the least bit seductively... OH, BABE, COME ON!  

So, honey, this one's for you!  (I've gotta strike while the iron is hot)

Thursday, March 24, 2011


What's the deal with Junebugs?  I mean, in the grand scheme of things, what exactly is their purpose?  They buzz around making a lot of racket and bang into walls.  They bang into walls, then fall on their backs and can't turn over.  What were the powers that be, thinking?  Surely they have a reason for existing, but, for the life of me, I haven't figured it out.

I have a sneaky feeling my kids think the same thing, about me.  I'm just one of life's little annoyances, that doesn't serve much purpose, other than making racket, bouncing off walls and occasionally, getting in their hair. 

I do have two abilities the Junebug doesn't have.  I've been known help them out when they've had more month, than money and I make a darn fine babysitter!  Bet you can't find a Junebug around, that can do that!

Monday, March 21, 2011

Ha Ha Hot Chili

Three posts in less than a week, granted, it didn't require any brain cells on my part, for this one.  A friend sent me this, by email, and I nearly peed my pants.  Hope you enjoy it, as much as I did.  (If you got it by email... please forgive me)

Note: Please take time to read this slowly. If you pay attention to the first two judges, the reaction of the third judge is even better.  For those of you who have lived in Texas, you know how true this is. They actually
have a Chili Cook-off about the time Halloween comes around. It takes up a major portion of a parking lot at the San Antonio City Park.

Judge #3 was an inexperienced Chili taster named Frank, who was visiting from Springfield, IL .

Frank: "Recently, I was honored to be selected as a judge at a chili cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and I happened to be standing there at the judge's table, asking for directions to the Coors Light truck, when the call came in. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn't be all that spicy; and, besides, they told me I could have free beer during the tasting, so I accepted and became Judge 3."

Here are the scorecard notes from the event:


Judge # 1 -- A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2 -- Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) -- Holy crap, what the hell is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the flames out. I hope that's the worst one. These Texans are crazy.


Judge # 1 -- Smoky, with a hint of pork. Slight jalapeno tang.
Judge # 2 -- Exciting BBQ flavor, needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
Judge # 3 -- Keep this out of the reach of children.  I'm not sure what I'm supposed to taste besides pain.  I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver.  They had to rush in more beer when they saw the look on my face.


Judge # 1  -- Excellent firehouse chili. Great kick.
Judge # 2 -- A bit salty, good use of peppers.
Judge # 3 -- Call the EPA.  I've located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano.  Everyone knows the routine by now.  Get me more beer before I ignite.  Barmaid pounded me on the back, now my backbone is in the front part of my chest.  I'm getting sh!t-faced from all of the beer.


Judge # 1 -- Black bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2 -- Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods, not much of a chili.
Judge # 3 -- I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it.  Is it possible to burn out taste buds? Sally, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills. This 300 lb. woman is starting to look HOT ... just like this nuclear waste I'm eating! Is chili an


Judge # 1 -- Meaty, strong chili. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick.  Very impressive.
Judge # 2 -- Chili using shredded beef, could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
Judge # 3 -- My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and I can no longer focus my eyes.  I farted, and four people behind me needed paramedics.  The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili
had given me brain damage.  Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher.  I wonder if I'm burning my lips off.  It really ticks me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming.  Screw them.


Judge # 1 -- Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spices and peppers.
Judge # 2 -- The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions, garlic.  Superb.
Judge # 3 -- My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulfuric flames.  I crapped on myself when I farted, and I'm worried it will eat through the chair.  No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that
Sally.  Can't feel my lips anymore.  I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone.


Judge # 1  -- A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
Judge # 2  -- Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment.
**I should take note that I am worried about Judge #3. He appears to be in a bit of distress as he is cursing uncontrollably.
Judge # 3 -- You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin, and I wouldn't feel a thing.  I've lost sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water.  My shirt is covered with chili, which slid
unnoticed out of my mouth.  My pants are full of lava to match my shirt.  At least during the autopsy, they'll know what killed me.  I've decided to stop breathing it's too painful.  Screw it;  I'm not getting any oxygen anyway.  If I need air, I'll just suck it in through the 4-inch hole in my stomach.


Judge # 1 -- The perfect ending, this is a nice blend chili. Not too bold but spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2 -- This final entry is a good, balanced chili. Neither mild nor hot.  Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge #3 farted, passed out, fell over and pulled the chili pot down on top of himself.  Not sure if he's going to make it.  Poor feller, wonder how he'd have reacted to really hot chili?
Judge # 3 -- No Report

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Brain Farts and Blog Fog

I don't know where to begin with a post, it's been so long, like starting over.  Never was comfortable with it, always panicked when I'd hit publish, but... oh, well, here goes.  Just going to start typing and see where this ends up.

Back on the last post, when I said slowly, had no idea or intention of being THAT slow.  But, unfortunately... sh!t happens.  Thanksgiving came, then Christmas and New Years.  I hate the holidays, but I survived.  Then came a larger, more heaping pile, of deep doodoo.  In an effort to not bore you to tears, this will be a shortened version.

Hubby had two cataract surgeries, after my last post, spaced a month apart.  Those went great.  Due to inherited droopy lids, he decided to have a lid lift.  I was thrilled to, once again, be able to see his hazel eyes.  The surgery went great, he was released to return to work, all seemed well, then BOOM!  During a night shift, after waking up one afternoon, he had hard chills.  Mind you, he is not a complainer, he's one tough cookie and very healthy.  The weather was cold and many people were sick, we thought he might be getting the flu.  He took a hot shower, didn't feel much like eating, headed on to work.  By the time he made the hike from the parking lot, to the change house, then on to his unit, he knew something wasn't right.  He asked the fellow he was relieving, to please hang around for a bit, while he tried to see if he could feel somewhat better.  Thank goodness he did, he works alone and not long after getting there, he passed out.  Who knows when he would have been found.  Company medics were called and he was transported to the ER, by ambulance.  The ER doctor told me, "He is a VERY sick man, he is the sickest man we have in the hospital".  I knew he was sick, that was obvious, we just didn't know what he was sick from.  They ran him though a gamut of tests.  Turns out he had a raging bacterial infection/sepsis, origin unknown.  Couldn't help but wonder if it had some connection to the last surgery?  Several days later, when he was out of ICU, the doctor told him he was lucky man, he could have died. (hubby's dad died from sepsis)  Talk about a reality check!  Left us both feeling quite vulnerable.

After the fact, I can't help wondering if it may have had anything to do with contaminated alcohol prep pads, used before his IV's, used at his work, too.  Heard about the recall on TV, walked to the kitchen to check two packets I'd hung onto... sure enough... same manufacturer that was recalled.  We'll never know, but, for the life of me, I can't help being suspicious.

Hubby is doing great, now.  We are expecting our 5th grandchild, the 1st boy, next month.  The pregnancy has flown by, although my daughter would beg to differ.  To hear her talk, you'd think she was gestating an elephant!

So, there you have it.  It's the best I can muster, through brain farts and blog fog.  My Mom always said... "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."  Lord knows, I don't want to end up there!  I can already feel my butt puckering, as I prepare to hit publish post.

 Nobody bothered to tell me I typo'd "Brain".  How embarrassing!  Now, here it is, April 4th, and my granddaughter says, "Granny, what's Braig?"

Crap on a cracker!