The Old Man Was Snoring...

…in Texas. And, no. Not My Old Man/Sweet Hubby. Not Teddy Buddy Boo Bear, either—although he can saw logs with the best of them.

Snoozing away on his BIG bed!

It rained in Texas this past week! Well, in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area (many other places around our State got significant rain, as well, but this is where TLC and I live). For most of us in our little corner of the World, it was two days of steady, beautiful, nourishing, wonderful, replenishing, MARVELOUS rain!

We had just enough thunder and lightning to cause me to sleep on our couch Tuesday night. Why the couch, you might ask? TBBB is extremely afraid of thunder. We’ve learned he feels better if he can be close to us while he's skeered. He’s closer to us—and we to him—if one of us sleeps on the couch. For some odd and unexplainable reason, I am usually that “one.” Except for a humongously scary CRASH of thunder that sounded like it was close enough to have hit our home early Wednesday morning, it wasn’t what I'd describe as unbearable or spine-tingling thunder. More like "the old man is snoring" kind of thunder. At the end of the day(s), if we only have that kind, and no tornados or tornadic winds, Texans feel truly blessed.

Here, now, is a picture of our previously very, VERY, VERY low Big Tank. Our Front Tank was still overflowing yesterday into a little stream that goes under our road. It was/is all simply FABULOUS!

Happy Catfish!

Dear God:

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your Amazing Grace and for the SWEET RAIN. We are all deeply grateful for your help and gifts. (Just a teensy little reminder: We remain “in the hole.” So to speak. We’re still technically in a drought. PLEASE SEND MORE! ASAP!!!) I remain humble and grateful!

In Jesus’ Name, I pray.

Amen.

Charming Camels

As a teenager and young adult, I often worked with “older” (such a relative term, right?) peeps who called Wednesdays “Hump Day.” Because it was mid-week—and one was getting “over the hump.”  I always kind of giggled when people used that phrase. In fact, there were some creepy guys who made me kind of shiver (and walk away in a hurry) when they said it. Ugh.

Hence, I suggested, about seven years ago, to TLC, that we refer to Wednesday as “Camel Day.” (I have no earthly idea if I heard someone else use this expression. Perhaps. Rest assured I am in NO way attempting to take any kind of credit for coming up with this term.)

In honor of Wednesday, January 25, 2012, I would like to share my Camel Day "Cs" with y’all:

Have a CALM, Careful (but not too), CHALLENGING, Cheerful, CLEAN, Comfy, CONFIDENT, Congenial, CONSIDERATE, Cool, COZY and CUTE kind of day!

Don’t be: CYNICAL, Cutthroat, cRaZy, CRANKY (or Crabby), Capricious (well, maybe just a tidbit!), Clumsy (try to Control your thinking, talking, walking and driving!), Contrary, CLUELESS, CONFUSED, or Chintzy (don’t you just adore that word, even though it’s negative?).

Do be: CAPTIVATING, CHARITABLE, Cerebral, CERTAIN, Childlike, CHIPPER, Clear, COMPASSIONATE, Compelling, COOPERATIVE, Courteous, CHARMING, CREATIVE, and Curious (like George).

Try to eat: Chicken Cacciatore, CLAMS (no clams, however, for moi), Crispy CRUNCHY Cinnamon COOKIES (or Chocolate Chip? I hear the Girl Scouts have some fabulous COCONUT CARAMEL delites!), Carrots, COBBLER (not my Cat—CHERRY Cobbler), Cranberries, CANTALOUPES, Crumpets, and, of course, CUPCAKES! (less CARBOHYDRATES and CALORIES—for better health—darn).

Wash all of that down with: a COCKTAIL Concoction, CHIANTI, Coffee, COGNAC, Coke, a COSMOPOLITAN, Champagne, and/or Crown (or wear a crown! ha!).

Learn More About: the CIRCUS, Capricorns, CHEETAHS (not just the Cheeto Cheetah, either), CANOES (Canoe Canoe? Seniors remember this commercial), Clarinets, CARIBOU, Clouds, COBRAS (yikes!), CONCERTOS, Congress, CACTUS, Coyotes, CROCODILES, Caballeros, CELLOS, Calligraphy, and Cardinals (the real birds).

Plan a Visit to: Cancun, CHINATOWN (in San Fran, CALIFORNIA), your local COLLEGE, Cape Cod, CHARLESTON, any big CITY, the CANARY Islands or the CARIBBEAN, Cheyenne (nuff said), CLEVELAND, Costa Rica, and/or Cinderella’s Castle!

DON’T smoke a CIGAR. Seriously—that could be a CALAMITY. Don’t have a CONNIPTION. Fit.

Wear your hair in a CURLY Coiffure. Go to the CINEMA. Be a good CITIZEN. Have COURAGE. Wear a COSTUME (why not?) and Chanel No. 5 Cologne. Collect COMEDY CDs. CONSOLE someone. Contemplate and CONTINUE. Cuddle! Be a CLOWN. Be CLASSY. Chuckle. Out loud and for no apparent reason.

Play CHESS. Have CONVICTION. COMMUNICATE, Commit, CONCENTRATE, Curtsy (if you run into a Princess or Queen), Consult, CONNECT, COLOR (outside the lines), Conserve, COORDINATE and make CONTACT (with a friend from your past?). Wear something Chenille or a CAFTAN or a Cashmere Chapeau. COPE. Clip COUPONS. Do a CARTWHEEL. Do the ChaCha! Like CHARO. Take your Calcium. CLIMB—every mountain.

Take a CHANCE. Be the CHANGE. Chitchat. Have CHUTZPAH.

COUNT your CABOODLES (the whole kit and)… CELEBRATE (every breath you get to take)…

CONGRATULATIONS—this is COMPLETE.

Chop Chop and CIAO!

Peggy (Not Sue)

I've always been fascinated by commercials. Television. Radio. Print. I had a minor in marketing when I got my business degree. A thousand years ago. It meant I had 12 hours in “marketing” classes. Six were “Sales.” I hated sales. Three were a “Public Relations" course. Sort of okay. Three were in “Consumer Behavior.” That class fascinated me. Studying why people like what they do. What kind of advertising they might respond to—particularly as “groups.” Women. Men. Teens. Children. It was actually about psychology. I adore psychology! Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out what to do with that tiny amount of “consumer behavior” knowledge when I graduated and moved to Fort Worth. So I did nothing. Except “behave.” Right. Yes, yes I did behave. Like a ‘consumer.” I’m very well-behaved, as a matter of fact and thank you very much.

Being a Baby Boomer (Hubby keeps insisting he’s a BB—alas, he’s not—misses it by a few years, bless his heart), I grew up with commercials attacking me from all sides—about 14/7. We all listened to radio in our cars, at home and work. There were some very clever radio and television commercials when I was in junior high and high school. There were several I really liked. There were okay ones. Then there were bad ones. REALLY bad ones. Often, as we watched television in the evenings or on the weekends, we’d (and by “we” I mean everyone in my family—kids and parents, alike) race to do chores or a homework assignment or make a quick phone call while the commercials were on. Sometimes we’d really like a particular commercial and wouldn't want to miss it—so we’d have to wait until the next go-round to rush, oh, say, to the powder room. {Remember, Younguns, we didn’t have the ability to record a show and then back it up. If you missed a favourite, and no one could tell you what happened, you had to pray you’d see the “re-run." Otherwise you were out of luck. Period.}

Clearly, video recorders changed the game. You could record a show—or several—and fast forward through the commercials when you watched it/them that night. (Thus began my obsession with not wasting time watching commercials. Especially bad ones. I’m actually quite a fanatic. It drives Hubby a little over the edge. He's not nearly as fast as I've become with the remote.) “Back in the day,”many of us watched our recorded  “stories” at night, after dinner. I was hooked on All My Children!

The Super Bowl also gradually altered the way we all viewed commercials. If you didn’t have a favourite team competing, you could (and still can!) at least anticipate and enjoy the high-priced commercials. “This year, an ad during the Super Bowl will cost one million dollars for a sixty-second ‘spot,’” Dan Rather would report on the national news. We’d respond: “Huh? What did he just say? Is that for real?” Singular “real.” We didn’t do “reals.”

Don’t most of us love the Budweiser commercials? Especially those with Clydesdales? A few of the car makers have delightfully entertaining commercials. Last year’s little fella who thought he was starting his parents’ car? Priceless. I’m smiling now because I can see him. Absolutely precious. They probably paid several million dollars for that sixty seconds, right?

The Discover commercials with “Peggy” have always tickled me. The first few times I see a new one? I’m laughing out loud. After I’ve seen the newest one several times? I’m STILL laughing out loud. Backing it up to watch it again. And again.

About two years ago, as I was leaving my downtown office early one winter evening, I called Sunny’s home phone number to ask her a question. A male voice picked up (her Hubby answers their home phone 7 out of 10 times during the evening—you could almost place a big bet on this) and immediately said: “This is Peggy.” I was startled and tres confused. It sounded like Sunny’s Hubby. What did he say? I was certain I hadn’t dialed wrong. I’d been dialing that number, at that point, for about 25 years.

“Hey,” the deep, male voice asked, when he realized I apparently wasn’t going to respond. “Haven’t you seen that commercial?”

Awww. Yep. I have, Sunny’s Silly Hubby. Trickin’ me. Again. He’d seen my name on Caller ID.

I’ve been calling him Peggy ever since. For the first few weeks after this happened, Sunny would ask: “Who are you talking about?” “Your husband. Peggy,” I’d howl. Now she calls him Peggy, too—frequently! Or “Mr. Clorox Wipes.” Another story for another time, perhaps.

Peggy is a good man. Funny. Smart. Kind. A great husband. (He calls Sunny “Princess.” Every day. Even when he’s not in trouble. Awesome.) A great Dad and Grandfather (Nelly and her brothers can testify to this fact). A great friend. Not too long ago, I met Sunny at her beautiful house for lunch. I brought the two of us Quizno sandwiches (unfortunately, we don’t have a Potbelly’s, TLC!). I didn’t even ask if Peggy would be home. When I walked in the front door, there he was. In their kitchen. With a great big surprised look on his face. (He, like TLC and My Sweet Hubby, could often qualify for an Oscar!) “You didn’t bring me a sandwich? Thanks. Thanks, a lot.” He feigned hurt and gave me the hardest time. In his cute way. I felt awful. I still do. He’d definitely have gotten me one, if the situation was reversed.

In a couple of weeks, if “Discover Peggy” has an ad during the Super Bowl, and I hope he does, I’ll be thinking of Sunny’s Dear Man. Not Buddy Holly Or Peggy Sue.

ttfn!…have a WONDERFUL week ...

A Yummy For Y'all!

It's been awhile since my last Yummy. I thought it was high time for another. Because of Sweet Baby C, my "likes and dislikes" seem to change as quickly as Kim Kardashian's marital status. However, one thing has remained the same throughout this pregnancy thus far: my complete adoration of Potbelly Sandwiches. I crave them. Constantly. I did long before the new resident in my uterus moved in (but now it’s literally 24/7).

Here's why:

1. They are beyond fresh. The veggies are always crisp. The bread: warm and toasty. Never stale.

2. They pair perfectly with my favorite Salt & Vinegar chips.

3. Two words: HOT. PEPPERS. (ELC ate hot sauce at least three times a week while pregnant with me. She was feeding me Pace Picante by the time I was eighteen months old. Please don't tell either one of us there’s anything wrong with this. PLEASE.)

4. One can combine mayo AND mustard. (Okay. That’s not such an unusual thing. I do realize I can do this at Subway. And Quiznos. Be nice. I’m pregnant. I cry easily.) Listen, it's not just yellow mustard. It’s brown and a teensy bit spicy. Sigh.

5. One can have the bread "thinly sliced," which makes me feel a little less guilty for having them add that extra mayo. One can also get a “Skinny” with less meat. ( I don't see me doing this anytime soon, but, believe me, anytime I can even use the word “skinny” is a happy moment for me.)

Hubby is worried I'm going to get burned out. I'm currently dining there at least four times a week. (My  record to date? Five. And, yes, I understand I should cook/eat at home more often.) If he would let me, we'd eat dinner there every night. I remind him it's better to crave semi-healthy sandwiches than fried chicken. So, there. (It really is, isn't it?)

If you've never had a Potbelly Sandwich, I recommend you get thee to one of their establishments ASAP. You will not be disappointed.

Maybe if I go there often enough... they'll name a sandwich after me...

Scattered Pictures...

Kacy was singing with Bonnie Raitt’s “Something to Talk About” on December 12^th—over at The Piggy Lounge. As I type this, I’m singing “The Way We Were.” With Barbra. In my mind, only. (I need to purchase that song STAT—from iTunes.) Because TLC and I are already reminiscing about December! It was kind of a cRaZy month. It started with her being extremely sick—causing us to cancel an annual “Girls’ Only Christmas Shopping Trip” with Sunny and Nelly. We’ve been doing these get-togethers/celebrations for about thirteen years. We’ve only missed a couple. 2011 goes down as a miss. Kinda/sorta. STAY TUNED for our Substitution Sunday!

(Warning: there will be some random Christmas pictures in this post. Pictures that have nothing to do with anything. I just like them. You know this about me by now.)

Random Picture #1:  A Christmas wreath on the bench Hubby made
11 years ago for our front pasture.

The second weekend we had a blast with January, her Precious Angel Daughter, her Mom, Lillie, and her Aunt Robbie. We all met in Granbury, Texas, on that Saturday. We had a FUN lunch at Hank’s On the Square. They have, in TLC’s and my opinion, the BEST ALL-TIME GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICHES. On Earth. They use three cheeses, green apple slices, tomatoes and a delicious bread. Their fries are Divine. With a capital D. They have lots of other good eats and it’s decorated in a casually charming way.

From there we strolled the Square (only Precious Angel, who turned one the next weekend, got to be in an actual stroller... Lucky Girl), visiting a few of TLC’s and my favourite stores: St. Helen’s (one of the greatest all-time any and everywhere gift stores); The Pan Handle (a fantastic gourmet “cooking” store—one of My Hubby’s favourites); Houston Street Mercantile (a quilt store—if you heart all things quilty—you’d adore this sweet spot); and Almost Heaven (the perfect description of where you feel you are when you’re in this marvelous gift shop).

Sweet Angel and January

A trip to Granbury is not complete without a Mocha Granita, with or without whipped topping (TLC and I prefer without), from The Coffee Grinder. Trust us. We’ve had granitas all over the country and we have never found any that compare to the scrumptiousness of these.

Lillie and Robbie concur:

GRANITAS ROCK!

Then we caravaned the back country roads to my home. Lillie and Robbie were going to bunk in our Barn apartment. Precious Angel (who, by the way, was a DOLL the entire time!), January and TLC would be staying in our home.

My Sweet Hubby fixed us a wonderful dinner that evening. We laughed, told stories, cut up and had a rather LARGE time. When they left the next day, The Leightons and Hubby agreed it would be in our Top Five Favourite-est-All-Time Weekends!

The next Saturday, TLC came back, yet again, to help me prepare for our Substitution Sunday with Sunny and Nelly. After lunch (Sunny brought a homemade, positively unbelievable red velvet cheesecake—OMGosh), we exchanged Christmas gifts. We wanted y’all to see how we’ve (and by “we’ve” I mean me and Sunny) stayed exactly the same as we were three years ago. Is it not almost miraculous? (Sorry, Sunny and I have promised each other not to share our anti-aging secrets.) It’s like time is virtually standing still for us, right? Yes. That's exactly what it's like. In our dreams. Sheesh. The four of us always smile when we see the first picture. We thought it’d be fun to recreate that now famous pose (okay—famous to the four of us, only). Yes, I need a new hairstyle. I get it. Kit tries. What can I say?

Chefette TLC checking on the lunch casserole, 

while TBBB looks on (praying for something scrumptious to fall on the floor).

Circa 2008
from left: Sunny, Nelly,
TLC and ELC

Christmas 2011
(Guess who Sunny and Nelly
gave the owl pillow to?)

 Hmmm, these festive flower pots (Sunny and Nelly's gifts from us) look familiar.

Oh, could it be because they're from the delightful DixieBelle Gifts?

Yes, indeed!

TLC and I were going to round out another perfect weekend with a Fab Five visit and lunch on Monday—The Fab Five being us (hopefully y’all don’t think it’s rude to call ourselves Fabulous—we’re really referring to the three CGs) and The Crouch Girls. As fate would have it, bad weather came up that morning, causing us to re-think The Plan. High winds. Rain (not enough—believe me—in the big picture that is The Texas Drought) that was coming down hard and was often a bit scary. General Yuckiness. The TV weather forecasters were predicting it would get worse that afternoon. Around the time TLC, Lee, Anna and Clara would need to head back to their homes. Lee would have an hour-long drive. TLC a two-hour drive. It was tough, but I made the sad decision to cancel. What a hugely heartbreaking disappointment. However, since I can multi-task with the best of them, I'm typing this post and working on a "re-schedule" date for us and the CGs, all at the exact same moment! 

Friends are the Icing on Life’s Cupcakes, right? (You know what the sprinkles are? TLC’s BABY! Had to get that in.)

Random Picture #2:  Can you spot the mistletoe?
(Yes, that's a parking meter. Don't ask.)

Random Picture #3:  Look at the cute sweater Hubby's Ambassador "Club"

sent to keep his Maker's Mark nice and warm and toasty this past holiday season!
Clever. What a hoot!

“…smiles we gave to one another. . . for The Way We Were…”

Smushed Pennies

Due to technical circumstances beyond TLC’s control (LOL’s Photo Editor), the post we had 80% ready for last night will have to be re-scheduled for Sunday. Ish.

Sooo…since TLC is at work (i.e. a real job and not whatever this is that I do now—tee hee hee), I’ve volunteered to share some random thoughts this morning. Friday. The 13^th. YIKES. (I do love that Taylor Swift embraces the number 13! Don’t y’all? Really? It’s sort of defiant. I adore her. She is positively amazing to me.)

Despite the fact I’m scared of many things (rattlesnakes, scorpions, centipedes, and sharks, most of all, with some semi-controlled fears of flying and tornadoes), and despite the fact astrology and numerology intrigue me, I am not afraid of Friday, the 13^th. (I will concede I’m old enough to have had, in my past, many Friday the 13ths that seemed to be, at the end of the day, not some of my lovelier experiences. I may have said: “I hate Friday the 13^th.”)  I’m truly not now, nor have I ever been, particularly superstitious. Yes, I might avoid, if possible, letting a black cat cross my path. I would NEVER walk under a ladder. Ever. Isn’t that just common sense?

I have, in my 58 years, had some “lucky charms.” I don’t mean the cereal, although that’s what I buy when I know our grandkids are coming for a visit (they don’t usually get to have it at their homes—which I understand—but Grammies get to offer it—it’s actually a Grammy Law).

When I was in junior high, the lucky charm to have was a rabbit’s foot. I thought those looked icky. And sad. And were, basically, kind o’ creepy. I latched on to other things that were cuter and that I could attach significant-er (yep—new word) meaning to (and I’m ending in a preposition—sorry). I’ve had several St. Christopher charms. I still have one of those smushed pennies—you know, where you run them through a smusher machine?—I got the first time Hubby and I went to Hawaii. I smushed it at Pearl Harbor. Even though I completely believed it was horribly tacky to have a tourist-y machine like that at such a sad and solemn memorial. It really is inappropriate. Pearl Harbor is one of the most moving places I’ve had the privilege of visiting in my life. That was over 33 years ago. It amazes me I haven’t lost the penny. Therefore, it must be “lucky.”

Luck, in my humble opinion, is downright mysterious. I think of words like accidental, coincidental, unexplainable and, well, okay, unfair, when I ponder the concept of “luck.” I’ve read, lately, several magazine articles about creating good luck for ourselves. After reading them, my reaction is: “What the heck? Why not try these ideas? How could it hurt?” Then I promptly forget what the suggestions are. So there you go.

{A little irony: I know almost everything there is to know about my daughter. We have few secrets between us. Yet, as I write this, I can’t remember her ideas/thoughts/opinions on luck. Hmmm. She is one of the most creative people I’ve ever known, and she is often (not always, but often) open to new ideas, philosophies and theories. She is, however, extremely practical. Logical. She does heart St. Patrick’s Day. I'm not sure she believes in Leprechauns. It’s true she can’t wait for her nieces and nephews to come for a visit—because she, too, craves Lucky Charms cereal! I have to make her share. Sheesh. Cannot wait to see if she buys this for her kids.  I think I see blackmail in our future.}

On this Friday the 13^th, I wish y’all nothing but GOOD FORTUNE, THE BEST OF LUCK, HAPPINESS, JOY and WELL-BEING!!! (Don’t walk under a ladder, please.)

It may be the 13^th, but it’s also:

FRIDAY! Yippee!!!

Label: T.G.I.F.

Are You Kiddin'?

Today is our one year “Blogiversary!” TLC realized it this morning—on her way to work.

TLC: What’s the date?

ELC: I don’t know. The 8^th? 9^th? 10^th? Don’t ask me. I can tell you the time and temperature. Because I’m looking at them on TV. But they don’t have the date. They really should. That would be tres helpful.

TLC: If it's the 9th, it's our Blogiversary!

We had talked about this milestone last week. Shocking that ELC had already forgotten, right? (And TLC thinks she has “pregnant” brain—an inability to remember anything even remotely important, of course. She’s clearly doing better than her Senior Citizen Mama. Yep. Very scary.)

We don’t know where this is going—but we plan to keep on keeping on. Until we’ve run out of thoughts. Or steam. Whichever comes first.

Truly, we thank each of y’all, again, for reading our silliness and joining in on our musings. We hope you see yourselves and your own experiences in our journeys. We're bettin' you do.

Cupcakes and Diet Dews all around!

And A Toast! To Mothers and Daughters. Husbands and Wives. Family and Friends. Silly dogs and cRaZy cats. To All The Sweet People that make our lives fun, happy and meaningful. Grazie!”

and smooches…

M is for...

Mom! And M.I.A.

ELC has been pulling double-blog-duty recently, as I literally cannot keep my eyes open after 8:00 every evening. Who knew growing a sweet, cute, tiny little baby would be this exhausting? I did make it until 9:15 on New Year's Eve. I deemed that a very successful way to ring in 2012.

My Dear Hubby has been tres helpful and kind during this first trimester. It's hard to imagine that in six-ish short months, it will no longer be just us and Henry. WOW.

Speaking of my little Hurricane, we’ve broken the news to him about Baby C. He seems to be taking it well. Although I have noticed him chasing his tail and acting out a bit more frequently. I'm hoping it's unrelated to our upcoming arrival and is simply general puppiness.

Hubby and I will be finding out if Baby C is a boy or girl. (My bet is on BLUE.) ELC wishes we would wait until the delivery. She feels there are very few surprises in life. Everyone who knows me well can attest to the fact I'm entirely too much of a planner to ever do that.

We've already started working on the nursery! ELC drove over yesterday to help me clean out the closet . I sure have accumulated a lot of stuff in the two and a half years we've lived in our home. Sheesh. I also have four paint samples on the wall. I'm having a hard time picking the color. The names are: Thundercloud Grey, Silver Chain, Shaker Tan and Elephant Grey . Hubby describes them as: blue, white, yellow and purple. Men/Dads. (I confess: When trying to finalize a color for our dining room, I tested out 14 different possibilities. Yes. Fourteen. Hubby and ELC thought twelve of them were the same. I’m definitely seeing a couple more trips to Home Depot in my future.)

I truly feel incredibly blessed. I've always wanted to be a Mom. It's still a bit hard to grasp that that dream is coming true! I welcome any advice you may have about motherhood. And baby gear. I’m slightly intimidated by Babies R Us and Buy Buy Baby. LOL. Thank y’all for your patience during my mini-hiatus.

The biggest GRAZIE of all to ELC, the World's Most Amazing Mom AND Grammy!

E is for...

In addition to our Yeehaws, Yummies, and Yumhaws, I would like to introduce (drum roll, please):

ELC’s Examples

Beginning at about age 5, we start hearing “older” peeps complain that there are too many wrong things happening. They say (a lot):

“This is an example of what’s wrong with Our World.”

I was realizing I’d forgotten to follow-up on what I was going to call my “Soapbox” post. After our Newport Rhode Trip. (Never fear—that’s a comin’!) But, as TLC and I were tooling around her Neck-O'-the-Woods this past Monday, I found myself telling her, several times: “See? This is what’s wrong with Our World.”

Example #1: We were in a big, nice, crowded Mall for a few hours. As we went from store to store (looking for—you guessed it—baby “stuff”), I told her I truly despised being “tailgated” by other shoppers.

TLC: What do you mean?

ELC: I mean, those people who get right on your “tail” and think they’re going to make you walk faster because they’re in a hurry.

TLC: Hmmm. I’ve never had this happen to me.

ELC: Seriously? Yes, yes you have. UNLESS, YOU are one of those Mall/Wally World/Grocery Store Tailgaters. When it happens to me, it only makes me more determined to walk even SLOWER.

TLC: No. I don’t think I’m “one of those tailgaters,” ELC. But I’ll try to be aware of this clearly frustrating situation. Now stop acting like a Geezette.

People need to slow down, I say. Nothing good ever comes from going fast. NOTHING. Trust me on this. I can give you at least thirty major times I should have SLOWED DOWN in the past 34 years. I’m not just talkin’ driving, either. Walking. Cleaning. Talking. Etc.

Example #2: Every time I venture over to TLC’s casa, I am treated rudely by many drivers. In fact, if I’m not shot The Bird at least three times during a round trip, I feel I haven’t done my job as a Senior Citizen. But this is an example of what truly gets me:

Two trips back, I was heading home after a lovely day with TLC and Her Sweet Hubby. It was dusk-ish. I was on the George Bush Tollway (see TLC’s post Hail to the Chief on February 20th). The speed limit is currently 70 on that cRaZy highway. I was actually doing 74. I was in the left hand lane (of three lanes), because I could see several cars in the middle lane going slower than me. I wanted to pass them. As I approached the first car on my right, a car behind me, a new Mustang driven by a guy, 25 to 33ish in age, was right on my bumper. DANGEROUSLY close. He got so frustrated with me for not going 80mph, he veered into the middle lane and drove between me and the car I was trying to pass. He could have killed all of us if I hadn’t taken my foot off my accelerator. As he turned back in front of me, he held up his right arm—middle finger arrogantly aimed at me. He kept this display up for several seconds. He even turned around to make sure I could see how angry he was. What a fabulous idea. To take your eyes off the road in front of you. As you’re driving 80mph down a crowded highway. To make sure you’re obscene gesture is fully appreciated by the Poor Little Senior Citizen Lady.

I wasn’t going 60. 65. Even 70. I was going 74mph. RUDE, I tell you. Unnecessarily rude. And THIS is a perfect example of what is wrong with Our World. Period. End of story.

(Now I’m sure y’all will be anxiously awaiting more “examples” of my frustrations. I'm also confident you'll each be determined to do your part to make Our World a better, safer, fairer, SLOWER-paced and tres happier place. Okay? PLEASE.)

ttfn…

Twenty Years From Now...

Twenty years from now

you will be more disappointed

by the things that you didn’t do

than by the ones you did do.

So throw off the bowlines.

Sail away from the safe harbor.

Catch the trade wind in your sails.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

                                             --Mark Twain

There are hundreds—thousands—of wonderful “New Year” quotes. I loved this one. Which is kind of strange, since I’m very afraid of water. Well, being in water. Not showers, baths or swimming pools, Sillies. I’m talkin’ lakes, big bays. Oceans? YIKES. The whole shark thing, you know. Actually, I need to be able to see where I am. Guess it’s become a control issue. But I love Mark Twain. (Who doesn’t?) His inspiring words seemed to speak to me today.

January 1, 2012.

Rather than bore y’all with resolutions I probably won’t keep—very long, or at all—I thought I’d tell you what I think/hope/believe/feel/suggest 2012 will be. For TLC. For moi. Maybe for you, too.

2012 will be The Year of Baby C! TLC’s first child. The thought of this makes me get weepy. It also causes me to giggle and smile. Not just with my mouth and lips—but with my heart. And soul. It makes me giddy—yep, giddy—with excitement! I believe she’ll cherish every moment of anticipation with awe, humor and wonder. (At some point, she might quit saying: I look fat, don’t I? You think I’m fat, don’t you? No, TLC. I don’t think you look fat. I think you look cute. Happy. Darling. Precious. I promise.)

2012 will be the year TLC’s life changes. Forever. In the most touching, sweet, scary, tiring, cRaZy, silly, challenging, tiring, confusing, incredible, delightful, tiring, funny, special, marvelous, tiring, and glorious way! I’ll be there with her. For every fabulous moment. For those not-so-fabulous moments, too. Understanding, encouraging and helping her with the difficult stuff. It’ll all be okay, TLC. Trust me.  

2012 will be a year of continued challenges for me. Aging is a weird process. You look in the mirror and you can’t quite believe the way your face, hair, teeth, neck and body are all doing things you wish they wouldn’t do. And yet, as you peer at the picture of yourself—through your often droopy, puffy and crinkly eyes—you realize you are actually looking at unconditional gratitude. For every line you see, there was laughter. Joy. Heartache you overcame—eventually. Fear you faced. Pain through which you trudged with determination and perseverance. Okay, yes, and maybe a few cuss words. Cancer? Been there. Sudden, unexplained and permanent deafness? Been there, too. Sheesh. First broken bone at age 55? Yep. Done that. Necessary—and unnecessary—losses? Of course. Survived.

In my mirror, I see me. Younger. Middle-aged. Older. Chubby. Wrinkly. Saggy. Achy. Forgetful. Cranky. Alive and, mostly, well. I see my past. I see me here—in the present. I see the probability I won’t look any better or younger when I get up tomorrow, but I’m trusting there will be a tomorrow. I catch a glimpse of the Grateful Me. The person that, for now, at least, can see several things clearly. The most important thing I've learned? That all that ever really matters, at the end of the day, is I’m lucky to get continued chances to try harder and do better.

My Faith may occasionally waver, but it never completely abandons me. There have been hundreds of worries that were unfounded. Unfortunately, there have been a few worries that were founded. After sleepness nights and endless days, they dissolved into inevitable acceptance. As long as I’m breathing, there will be more worries. Darnitall.

I pray to my Lord God Above that as 2012 progresses each minute, hour, day, week, and month, He helps and guides Our Country. Our World. The Leaders of Our World. He gives us all strength. Peace. Hope. Love. Forgiveness. Amen.

TLC and I wish each of you a breathtakingly exquisite 2012!

Happy New Year! Happy Ever After, Dear Friends… Everywhere!