A weekend look-back.....

Here's are three observations from our weekend.

1) Since I am apparently going to be Gordita Forever (GF for short), I decided to try a new concept.  I will only eat sweets (in moderation) as long as I make the sweets myself.  No more store brought junk.  So along those lines, I found a super-yummy recipe that I swiped off someone's Pinterest.  [Line cookie sheet with foil, spray with coconut cooking spray, lay out 25 saltine crackers (I put them salt-side down so the salt would hit your tongue when you eat them- genius, I know....)  Then melted 1 stick of butter with 1/2 cup of brown sugar.  When the butter melts, bring to a boil and stir continuously for 3 minutes.  Pour over the crackers and spread evenly when you're done.  Then bake at 325 for 8 minutes.  No overcooking.  When done, take the whole foil off the cookie sheet to cool.  I sprinkled some sea salt on top and drizzled some chocolate over some.]  They are super good.

2) Next, I realized that Roger and I are way too wrapped up in our puppy, Pepito.  On top of having to check under his mattress every night to see what he stole from around the house that day, and him squeaking his loudest toy continually when we are not paying attention to him, and having to feed him from our hand to get him to eat, and him peeing when he's mad at us- then punishing himself by going in his kennel (because he knows that's what we'll make him do), this is our newest endeavor..... We discovered that Pepi is afraid of cats.  He refused to go outside today because a cat was sitting by the pool.  When we dragged him outside to try to get him to go potty, he cried out like we were beating him.  So, Roger and I found ourselves improvising the following episode to try to teach Pepi how to act like a dog.  Roger got down on his hands and knees outside the kitchen door and pretended like he was a cat.  I was inside with Pepi, and upon seeing Roger the cat, I went to the door on my hands and knees and acted like a dog by barking as loud as I could.  And magically, the cat, Roger, got scared and went away.  I don't think Pepi quite caught on to our lesson.  Oh well.  We had fun.

3) And finally, I need to solicit adult supervision for my husband whilst I am not at home.  Today I caught him turning the toaster on it's side to make grilled cheese so the cheese wouldn't melt all in the toaster.  Need I say more?

We are idiots, but hey, life is good!!!

Happy Thanksgiving week!

What is fear?

I grew up in fear.  To be fair, many of my fears were rational.  Here are two examples:

1. When I was young, my grandparents had a pool.  Next door, Mrs. Wiley had two very handsome grandsons.  I was always desperate to impress them.  So one day, when I saw they were outside, I jumped off the diving board while singing that song, "One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya, I'm gonna getcha, getcha, getcha..."  Well, all I had on was underwear and my grandfather's signature white t-shirt.  As I went in, feet first, the t-shirt ballooned up over my head, trapping my arms.  I couldn't get out or breathe.  I was certain I was going to die.  And, of course, no one saw my endeavor.  I obviously made it out, but I still have a fear of drowning.
2. When I was older, my dad became a judge.  Well, usually in a court case, some one "wins" and someone "loses."  The losers don't always take it so well.  So we got threats from time to time.  People would call and say they were going to kill us.  One time, a woman called and said she was from the trash company, and they needed to know why they found a human hand in our trash can.  So, I grew up convinced that someone was going to harm me, or one of my smaller siblings.

Some of my fears are very irrational.  Like my fear of having my throat slit in a dark movie theater.

As I got older my fears grew.  When my son was born, I was convinced he was going to die of SIDS. (And in all fairness, whilst he was at the sitters, an infant sleeping in the same playpen DID pass from SIDS.  Freaked me out.

So, when I was 24, I bought my first house.  I didn't stay there in the beginning, because I was too scared.  My grandfather came over a few times and looked in the shower, in the garage and under my bed for me so I could sleep.  This didn't last very long.  And, sure enough, about a month after I moved in, someone broke in while I was at work and went through my laundry.  WTF?!?!?!

So, in 2006, I had to start renting out that house and move to an apartment in Stuart because of work.  I was in heaven.  For the first time in forever, I wasn't scared to sleep.  I knew I was surrounded by a million people and it wasn't very likely that anyone would "get me."  This has been my peace for the last seven years.

Well, Roger and I just bought our first house together.  It's a pretty cool house with a great back yard, in a so-so neighborhood.  However, will all the giddiness that came with this new chapter in our lives, my fear of intruders has returned.   We installed window guards, a security system and flood lights that light up the entire neighborhood, but I still can't sleep.  Not to mention the fact that my honey-bunches-of-oats sleeps like a rock.  I know if someone broke in they could easily rip off my arms and he would never know it.

When we first dating, Roger told me, "Doanyelle, if I ever tell you to run, or to leave quickly, don't ask questions, just do it."  (He was being dramatic, of course.)  So, I figured this was our mutual understanding.  So, I tried this tactic one night, when I was convinced someone was in the house.  I nudged the sleeping beauty and frantically whispered, "Roger, wake up and be quiet.  I think someone's in the house.  Listen!"  To which, he bolted up and yelled, "Huh? What?  What happened?"  So much for our upper-hand on the situation.

So, now I'm trying to figure out how to conquer this fear.  Is it likely that someone will break in?  Probably not.  Especially since we have a Beware of the Dog sign and our alarm sticker in the front window.  That is, of course, unless someone actually scopes out our house and realizes that our guard dog weighs four pounds and doesn't bark.

So, just in case I'm suddenly abducted or mutilated, please know that I'm sorry for all my sins and transgressions, I love my family, and I'm the one that stole the cookie from the cookie jar.

Happy Friday!  Here's a song.  (hahaha)

I'm baccckkkkk.

After six months of silence, I decided I want to start blogging again.  I don't have any super-profound thoughts, just some random ideas.  So, here we go.......

The other day, I was driving to work and I remembered some "words of wisdom" my mom shared with me when I was young.  She said there is a "rule of thumb" for accessorizing.  You should limit yourself to one accessory for each foot of your height.  And, make-up and patterns/embellishments on your clothes each count as one.  So, I did a quick assessment at the stoplight.  I had on make-up, of course, some kind of print on my shirt, about 8 bangles, my wedding rings, my right hand ring, earrings, buckles on my shoes and a brooch on my sweater.  That makes about 15 items.  Lets see, I thought, I'm 5 feet and 6 1/2 inches tall (yes, the extra 1/2 inch is important to me), so I need to figure out how to grow 9 1/2 more feet.  I think this is a poo-poo "rule of thumb."

Then, someone cut me off and I remembered something I told my work neighbor recently- that I realized that I cannot drive to work without calling someone a "fucker." Then I recalled a fantasy I've had since I started driving.  I wish I could design a wrap-around electronic banner for my car that responded to my voice by typing what I was thinking (or vocalizing) on the banner.  For example, if someone tries to take my parking space, the banner would scroll something like, "You douche-bag!  What makes you think that's o.k.?"  One day....

And finally, I was bragging to someone recently about how I've never seen my husband, Roger, angry, and he's never raised his voice to me (or anyone else that I've witnessed), no matter how frustrating I have been or what kind of temper-tantrum I display.  He tells me he's realized that that's just how I react to stress and he just figures it's easiest to let me vent.  So I was thinking, God gave me the ability to use all kinds of vocal ranges.  Why would he do that unless he wanted me to exercise those abilities?  Then, it occurred to me that maybe he did that to give me a choice to be self-disciplined and not use that ability, or to lose control and pitch a fit (and thereby make an ass of myself).

That's it.   Those are my random thoughts for this morning.  Now I will go back in our 60 degree bedroom, pry the puppy, Pepito from under the covers and get ready for work.  It's a whopping 38 degrees outside and I'm super stoked. Plus, it's almost Friday.  Whoot whoot.

Today, I'm thankful for a patient husband, cold weather and a new temporary renter for my Okeechobee house.  One more month of being able to pay the mortgage.  Thank you, Baby Jesus!

Here's a song: