They Can’t All Be Winners - 25 Things about Me: #13, #16, #19, #22, and #24

When you think about coming up with 25 things that people may or may not know about you, the task can be daunting. After about 10 or 11, in my case 13, you start grasping at straws. Here are the honorable mentions:

13. I cannot, for the life of me, wrap my brain around taxes, buying a house or buying a car.

Yes, that is a lot of advanced mathematics and abstract thinking. My brain wasn’t configured for that. It is for that reason, I will, until further notice, e-file my taxes, rent living quarters and drive the Little Red Wonder until her wheels or some other part falls off. Knock on wood and God forbid.

16. I prefer that my PJs match my bedding.

This doesn’t happen as often as it used to and thinking further on it, it was dumb to even say that out loud.

19. If I have any free time, I’m usually sleeping.

Word. I’ve perfected the art of the cat nap. An art passed down from my Papa to my Mother and from her on to me. If sleeping were a sport, I’d be an All American. However, writing a blog is coming in a close second.

22. I don’t like to go out on Friday night.

Lame, but it’s true. Although if something fantastic is happening, I wouldn’t shake my fist at it.

24. I had a canopy bed when I was little and I thought pirates lived on the top.

Turns out it wasn’t pirates, but a shadow made from my Bozo the Clown nightlight.  I don’t know which was scarier, the pirates or the Bozo the Clown nightlight.

25 Things about Me: #12

12. I had my right hand ripped open by my cousin’s pit bull, Bud.

The events were these: My family was visiting my grandparents in Montgomery, Alabama for some random occasion. My two older cousins, Becky and Keli, were there and they had a pit bull named Bud that stayed at my grandparent’s house.

Becky, Keli, and Joe were out on the back porch playing with Bud and I was making myself useful by sweeping the dirt from the porch, when I notice Bud nipping at Becky’s hand. Well, I gave Bud a gentle swat on his hind in with the broom hoping that would make him stop. It did not, so I hit him a little harder. I know what you’re thinking, “Not a good idea, Grimes!” and you’re so right. The next thing I know that dog had his teeth clamped down on my right hand and we were playing tug of war with it. He was going one way and I was trying to pull my hand out of his mouth. I screamed bloody murder and Mother came running out after me. Bud finally let go of my hand and she scooped me up, put me in our van and we were headed with Daddy to the ER. 

Once there, they took me right in and put me on a table. The doctor proceeded to check out my hand to see that, even though the top of my hand was ripped open, everything inside was intact.  It was fine, but I was obviously going to need a few stitches. Getting stitches was going to require some novocain injected directly into my open wound and that’s exactly what they did. Yeah, it hurt, but it was hurt on top of hurt at that point. I got three stitches for my trouble and eventually a very nice scar.

When we got back to my grandparent’s house, I showed off my battle wound and Mother beat that dog. Now you dog people who maybe reading this, don’t get it twisted.  The dog lived to bite another day, just not anyone in my family. Papa ended up giving Bud away and I’m sure Mother had something to do with it.

It was my own fault, but sadly the injury ended my future as a hand model.

How the Heck Did You Get Here?

No, this isn’t a platform to debate creation versus evolution.  So, check your Darwin at the door. My question is how did you get here - to my blog?

There’s a nifty thing on that I have on the backside of my blog. It’s the stats. I can see when peeps are peeping at my blog, what they are reading or pepping at and even where peeps are coming from, like Facebook, Twitter, or some other method. It also tells me where in the world these peeps are when they are peeping, which is really interesting. Of course most of my peeps are here in the US however, I’ve had a handle full of peeps from the other side of the world.

My blog has only been up for almost a month and I’ve had peeps from the UK, Germany, Sweden, India, Malaysia and Singapore check out my blog. It’s wild to think that someone across the globe may or may not be belly laughing at my musings. It didn’t cross my mind to think that I could be global.

Well, however you got here, I’m sure glad that you did. I hope you’re enjoying it as much as I am. If you care to, leave me a comment and tell me how on earth you got to my blog.

Side note: Another interesting thing I see in the stats is the keyword searches that have brought peeps to my blog. Two peeps came to my blog by using the keywords: monkey cleaning and raw streak in cake. That’s outstanding and totally random. I love it!

25 Things about Me: #11

11. My Mom and Dad did most of the work on my 4H projects.

When we lived in Vidalia, Louisiana, I was a member of a service organization called 4H. 4H stands for heads, heart, hands, and health. Each quarter, members would to sign up for service or learning projects. At the end of the quarter, there was a 4H fair where they would show off what they’d learn or created.

One quarter, I decided to sign up for sewing and woodworking because my Mother is handy with the sewing machine and my Daddy is a master wood craftsman. I am sure that when I sign up for these projects, that I had every intention of doing the lion share of the work and my parents would assist me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My sewing project was to make an apron with the supplied pattern. I could pick out the fabric and the embellishment, but the apron had to be made to the pattern. Picking out the fabric, rick-rack, and ironing the seams were the only things I was allowed to do on that apron. Mother did the rest. I think she may have let me press the pedal on the sewing machine once or twice, so that if I was asked point blank if I sewed this apron, I wouldn’t have to lie.  Here’s how it turned out. This picture was taken very, very early in the morning. I remember my Mother coming in and telling me to get up quick and put this dress on so she could take a picture of me with the apron on. This is why I look so pleased and my cowlick (the funny part in my hair) is raging.

As for the woodworking project, I was to make a birdhouse. All I can say about that birdhouse is the closest I came to making it was this staged picture. Notice my Daddy in his Army uniform because that’s normally what he wore when he was woodworking.

Needless to say, for a girl my age, there was no way I built those birdcage because it had mitered corners and could probably withstand a tornado.

PS: Both of these pictures were taken the same morning with the help of a quick wardrobe change.

Other projects I conquered were:

Childcare - I was to develop a children’s board game to use while babysitting.  Result: FAIL. How did you know?

Cooking – Cook a main dish. With my Mother’s help, we made a Sheppard’s Pie. I got first place at the Local fair and got third place, cookbook and a crisp $5 bill at the Regional fair. Result: WIN.

Most of that stuff didn’t stick with me for long. Sewing: I can’t sew to save my life and working a sewing machine is out of the question. I am a wiz with a button and no-sew tape. Woodworking: negative. The closest I come to it is drawing plans for pieces of furniture I want Daddy to build for me. Childcare: I laugh in its face. I love the kids I love and will take care of them and them alone.

Cooking is the only one that stuck with me. I’m a great cook and it all began with Sheppard’s Pie.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

5. I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

6. The first lie I remember telling.

7. When I was about 3 or 4, I dreamed I was visited by Tinker Bell.

8.  I always knew I was my Papa’s favorite granddaughter.

9. I love Alfred Hitchcock movies.

10. I am horrible at staying in touch with friends.

25 Things about Me: #10

10. I am horrible at staying in touch with friends.

It is one of my most horrible character traits.

I don’t know how else to put it. There are lots of people that I’ve known in my life that I wish I were still in touch with, but just haven’t. I guess time, distance and life got in the way and I know that is no excuse.  If anything, it makes me a horrible friend.

Once you’ve lost contact, there’s no how-to guide of getting back in touch. Facebook has helped a little. I’ve reconnected with some even if it is in this remote way. Even though I may not speak to them, I can still check in on them and see what they are going. I hope you’re checking in on me, too.

Please know that if you and I are/were at one time friends, I think about you and hope you are doing well.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

5. I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

6. The first lie I remember telling.

7. When I was about 3 or 4, I dreamed I was visited by Tinker Bell.

8.  I always knew I was my Papa’s favorite granddaughter.

9. I love Alfred Hitchcock movies and hope to collect all of them on DVD. I’m very close.

25 Things about Me: #9

9. I love Alfred Hitchcock movies and hope to collect all of them on DVD. I’m very close.

I can thank Mother for this one. She is the one that first exposed me to Hitchcock. It was probably an unlikely choice for family movie night, but we charged on. She would get the Soft Batch cookies, some milk, and we all would gather to watch.

The first Hitchcock movie I saw was Psycho. At time I couldn’t be more than 10, and needless to say, it took a little while before I took a shower by myself.

Looking back, and after seeing this movie a bunch of times, there are really only 3 “scary scenes” in the whole movie: the shower scene, the staircase scene with Mr. Abrogast, and the scene in the fruit cellar. The rest of the movie is suspenseful, which is done best by Hitchcock. Sorry, if I’ve spoiled the movie for you.

Last year, I took my friends, Becky and Tracy, to see Psycho at the Tampa Theatre.  I was excited to see the movie in a theatre, much like you would when it first was released. They did not share in my excitement. I reassured them that is wasn’t scary and that I would warn them when the true scary scenes were coming. It did little to ease their worries and at the end of the movie, I was still the only fan.

Some of my other favorites from Hitchcock are Rebecca, Vertigo, and all the Grace Kelly movies:  Dial M for Murder, Rear Window, and To Catch a Thief. My least favorite, because they all can’t be winners, is The Birds. I take issue with the non-ending of it all.

Of Hitchcock’s 53 movies, I’ve seen almost half and yes, it’s seems to be a strange obsession. As for the DVDs, I’m about 10 short.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

5. As a young girl, I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

6. The first lie I remember telling was when I broke a window of the house playing tennis with a bouncy ball and trivets. I blamed it on my brother.

7. When I was about 3 or 4, I dreamed I was visited by Tinker Bell.

8.  I always knew I was my Papa’s favorite granddaughter.

Praise the Lord! The Neckline has Risen.

I feared that my Easter Sunday was going to be tainted by the sight of the entire worship band and my pastor clothed in V-neck t-shirts. Much to my surprise, not only had Jesus risen from the dead, but all the necklines had risen from the navel. It was amazing! David was the only one with a V-neck on and from where I was sitting it looked like a crewneck. It was in the moderately unacceptable range. Easter was saved.

I hope everyone had a great Easter, too.

This One is for Granny

Tomorrow is Easter and I always think of my grandmother on this day. Her name was Lillian, but she was Granny to me.

When I was a little girl, my cousins and I spent most days in the summer at her house.  One of our favorite things to do was to grab the cassette tape recorder with a microphone and sing old hymns together. Doing so would sometimes incite a riot as to who would hold the microphone and who would sing the lead, but when we figured it all out, we’d sing for her.  Granny loved to hear us sing. Her favorite song we sang was Were You There? This video is a jazzed up version on the song, but when I hear it, I just hear three little girls singing around an old microphone and Granny smiling from ear to ear.

Happy Easter!

The Great V-Neck T-shirt Debate Continues…

After my An Insidious Epidemic: V-neck T-shirts post hit the World Wide Web, it flared up quite a debate.

I guess that V-neck party I was so worried about happening will now be known as Easter at MorningStar Church. I didn’t think that one through. I should have waited a couple of days/weeks. Now the resurrection of my Savior will be marred by the vision of V-necks.

David tried to post this as a comment to that blog post.

It’s really hard to read so here’s the convo:

David: It wouldn't let me post it properly so I figured this was the next best thing.

Vicki: Of course, it wouldn't. V-necks and comments containing V-necks are unacceptable. If you had drawn a crewneck t-shirt that said Vicki is right, it would have posted. PS: That is fan-freakin'-tastic!

The V-neck t-shirt says David is so boss! But, guess what? FAIL.

25 Things about Me: #8

8. I always knew I was my Papa’s favorite granddaughter.

I am the third granddaughter on my Mother’s side of our family. My two older cousins were daughters of my Mother’s oldest brother. The three of us were our grandparents’ little stair steps. I was the runt and like any litter of puppies, the runt was always the sweetest and got the most attention. That was true in this case. Now, if you know me, it might be hard to imagine that, at one time in my life, I was sweet, but I was. I’m still sweet, but not near as often as I used to be.

I tended to get a lot of my Papa’s attention because of that and the fact that my older cousins tended to have rowdy and rebellious spells. We were like peas and carrots. One of my favorite things from when I was little was when he would come, pick me up from school and take me to McDonalds. While there, it wasn’t Happy Meals for us. We dined on Quarter Pounders and fried apple pies. Those were the best days.

Another thing is I like to think that my Papa passed on to my Mother and then she on to me was the value of a cat nap. At one moment, he’d be awake doing the crossword puzzle of the TV Guide and then the next, out like a light. This is my one of my favorite pictures of him.

I loved my Papa and he loved him some Vicki. He went home to be with the Lord in 2006. I miss him every day.



Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

5. As a young girl, I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

6. The first lie I remember telling was when I broke a window of the house playing tennis with a bouncy ball and trivets. I blamed it on my brother.

7. When I was about 3 or 4, I dreamed I was visited by Tinker Bell.

An Insidious Epidemic: V-neck T-shirts

My friend, Becky, recently sent me this text.

Knowing me as well as she does, Becky knew I would want to know about this sign of the Apocalypse. Here is what she then sent to me.

I hate, with an unholy rage, V-neck t-shirts. Specifically, I abhor V-neck t-shirts on men.  Every time I see a man in a V-neck t-shirt, I feel like I am being visually assaulted. I want to perform a citizen’s arrest, make them take it off and stand shirtless in shame.

V-neck t-shirts/blouses are alright for women to wear because we have cleavage and for most women, no chest hair. Don’t be mistaken, I support men’s chest hair. It just needs to be locked up and preferably under a suitable crewneck shirt.

Kevin, my friend who loves to wear V-neck t-shirts just to spite me, says he wears these shirts to let his neck breathe. The last time a check a crewneck t-shirt didn’t fit like a turtleneck. You’ve got plenty of room there, Kevin! But upon further reflection of Kevin’s statement, I’ve came up with a V-neck spectrum that would illustrate at what plunge level a V-neck t-shirt would go from being Moderately Unacceptable to Completely Unacceptable. Note: A V-neck t-shirt is never acceptable.

There are lots of other boys/men in my life who, as Kevin, flaunt their V-neck t-shirts in my vicinity. I’ve even been told that they plot against me.

One of my worst fears is that they will all join forces together, throw a party in my honor and when I arrive, all the men in attendance will be wearing V-neck t-shirts. They would call the event "V-necks for Vicki" or "Vicki’s V-neck-palooza".  I shudder at the thought.

This is an insidious epidemic. I am working on starting a foundation that will raise money for a cure: common fashion sense and crewneck t-shirts. Join the cause!

Sidenote: My hatred of the V-neck t-shirt prompted Will, my little buddy who is 9, to give a new meaning to the word V-neck. In a fit of slight rage, which tends to happen when we get together, he looked at me and, from out of nowhere, says, “V-neck no!” I’m assuming that means something along the lines of heck no or worse. We’ll see if that sticks.

A New Homeopathic Advil?!?

Today, I received from Madison an interesting link to an article entitled #@*! Swearing really is a powerful painkiller. The article states that in times of pain, you can feel better by letting the a few colorful words fly. Let me first say that I do not advocate cursing/swearing. Do I swear? Yes, on occasion, but not near as often as I used to. I came under conviction when a man swore in front of me and then apologized. In response to his apology, I replied, “No need to apologize. I’ve heard worse and better yet, I probably said worse.” I knew then it was time for a swearing intervention.

My worse place for swearing is in the car. People have such a hard time obeying the rules of the road and showing common courtesy. I’ve taken to replacing salty language with yelling at the top of my lungs, “NOT NICE!!!” The yelling is often accompanied by a point at the perpetrator and then a fist shake. It doesn’t have the effect that I wish it had, although the fist shake is off-putting. Sometimes I can’t take my hands of the wheel, so I tend to shake my head or just do the obvious side-way “Really?!?!” look.

My favorite line from the article is “Interestingly, women reported feeling less pain after swearing a blue streak.” Agreed.

25 Things about Me: #7

7. When I was about 3 or 4, I dreamed, even though at that age you couldn’t tell me that it wasn’t real, I was visited by Tinker Bell. I got a bloody nose when she went behind my headboard as I chased her. To this day, I’m a little scared of her.

Like I said, you couldn’t have told me that it wasn’t real. As an adult, I know that I was dreaming, but then, as a child, that heifer flew into my bedroom and taunted me. I’m sure it was probably a Sunday night and I had probably watched the Wonderful World of Disney on our TV. It would have been then that she was planted into my subconscious, as Tinker Bell always flew in during the credits with her wand and sprinkle fairy dust all over the castle. It was the makings of a disaster.

As I remember it, I awoke to look out my window to see something sparkly lingering outside. Before I knew it, Tinker Bell, then already in my room, was hovering over my bed where I lay.

When I reached out to grab her, she flew behind my headboard. I gave chase and didn’t see the wall there. I banged my nose on the wall and which, at the rate of speed I gave chase, caused my nose to bleed. I screamed for my mother and she was quick to come, clean me up and calm me down.

As for still being scared of her to this day, I would.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

5. As a young girl, I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

6. The first lie I remember telling was when I broke a window of the house playing tennis with a bouncy ball and trivets. I blamed it on my brother.

I’ll be Italian for the Day

Yesterday marked the end of a Tampa event staple: Ybor City’s Festa Italiana or Italian Fest. Italian Fest celebrates Tampa’s rich Italian culture and, what Italians do best, Italian food. It is sponsored by the Italian Club and boasts a wide range of entertainment, family fun, arts, crafts and of course, food. Every year, my friends and I look forward to attending and spend at least one day fasting in preparation because at Italian Fest, we do to one thing and that is eat. (That’s 8 Italians in one paragraph, if you’re counting!)

This year our group included me, Allison, Kevin, and first-timer, Mama Palumbo (Kevin’s Mom). Alex would join us later as he thought our start time of 11:30am was far too early. Guess what? Wrong. Our brood arrived, found parking and paid the $5 entrance fee. Once inside, we procured our food tickets and loosen our belts.

Over the many years of attending Italian Fest, we have devised a strategic route of eating and adhere to a strict mantra of “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” We entered from the east side by the children’s area and make our way past the main entertainment stage and in a “Don’t pass GO, Don’t collect $200” kind of way, proceeded directly to the area where the Italian Club sets up their food booths. They have the best selection of Italian items: Baked Ziti, Meatball sandwiches, Italian Sausage sandwiches, Eggplant fries, and Sfingi (it’s a hybrid of doughnut and hushpuppy). All good choices. From there, we eat our way around the restaurant row for other local Italian restaurant food selections. We ended the day with cannoli and gelato.

I ate/drank these things in this order:

Meatball Sandwich

Italian Pork Quesadilla

Peach Mimosa

Sfingi

Corn Cake with Mozzarella

Banana Caramel Praline Gelato

Another highlight of the day is the $5 raffle. In years past, the raffle prize has been a current year model of the Kia Rio. The car I currently drive, dubbed The Little Red Wonder, is a Kia Rio. So, I’m overjoyed at giving $5 in the hopes of upgrading my model. I was very disappointed to find that this year’s raffle was not a Kia Rio, but in its place you could win one of the following items: a Vespa, $5,000 gas card, or a diamond pendant. Boo! I kept my $5.

The gem of the day was the discovery of the small jugs of sweet tea. We had spied the sweet tea stand when we walked in, but quickly brushed it off because it was on the eating route. Someone from our group broke off, did some reconnaissance and came back with one. Realizing how delicious it was, our group double-backed and get some. 

Totally genius idea and I wish I had thought of it. This little jug was $3 and I could pay $1 to get it refilled. On the way out, we stopped back by and got said refill. I asked the lady behind the counter if they were going to be there next year, to which she said she was hopeful, but if I attended the Tampa Fair, I could bring this little jug and get it refilled there for $1, too.  Dully noted! I’ll be bringing my jug back next year with me along with a lanyard to hold it.

We left Ybor City totally stuffed and satisfied! A great day of eating was had by all. Ya’ll be sure and join us next year!

25 Things about Me: #6

6. The first lie I remember telling was when I broke a window of the house playing tennis with a bouncy ball and trivets. I blamed it on my brother.

It went down like this:

I’m not quite sure how old we were, but it was between 1980 and 1985. This was when we lived in Vidalia, LA and it is the scene of this lie. My brother, Joe, is 4 years younger than me and like little brother at that age, he would do almost anything I asked of him.

On the day of the lie, we had just procured ourselves a Smurf super bouncy ball that was about the size of a tennis ball.

We only had one, so we had to play with it together. It was my genius idea to set up a tennis match inside of our den. The den was an enclosed garage. It was long and had only one window at the short end that looked out to the street. And in front of that window, was precisely where I setup Joe to receive my first serve. We used trivets for our racquets. They looked like this only, where the flowers are in the middle, on ours there was cork.

I can’t remember how many times we actually volleyed, but I’m going to assume it wasn’t for very long. I just remember hitting the ball with my trivet and the bouncy ball hitting the cork part. You don’t need to be a Mythbusters to know that cork and a super bouncy ball is not a good combination in a confined area. Thus, the super bouncy ball went right through the window. Being that my mother was in the back of the house and because there was no direct route to the den from where she was, I knew I had just enough time to change places with Joe. Guess what? I did.  I stood in front of the window proving that I couldn’t have hit the ball into the window, but that from where Joe was, he had the one to do it. It was a complete and total framing of the little brother and to my surprise, it worked.

It wasn’t until the middle of the night, rocked with guilt, that I entered my parent’s bedroom. I stood between their twin beds and told them that I had lied. That it was in fact, me that hit the Smurf super bouncy ball and broke the window.  

If you can’t already tell, I have a little bit of trouble with my memory, so I asked my Mother about this event. When I asked her if she remembered the incident, she said, “Well I most certainly do.” Then, I asked if she remembered what my punishment was, and she couldn’t either. She assumed that it was probably the usual routine: 3 licks on my hind end and sitting in my room for 3 days. I deserved it. Nice trick, Liar.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

5. As a young girl, I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

Hair Coloring and the Labor of It

Last night was my first foray into home hair coloring. My friend, Madison, and I decided that we would color each other’s hair. Actually how it all started was, we were in a meeting and Madison scribbled a note – Want to highlight my hair? I agreed, thinking that I was saying that I thought it was a good idea, but was actually agreeing to help her do it. Oh, the nuances of a question mark. Either way, I‘m game and in need of some color, too. Plus, since I am trying to save all my pennies for an upcoming move, a task that I am achieving at a below average rate, this would be a more economical choice than going to the salon.

So, Madison would get highlights and I was getting a much needed all over color as I was currently working on some pretty extensive racing stripes. Racing stripes is a term I coined to describe the gray hair that grows on the side of my head over my ears. It’s kinda like this, but not as glorious. 

I arrived at Madison’s house a 6:00pm. We made a quick trip to Walmart for some last minute things and returned, ready to color, at about 6:45pm. We tackled Madison’s highlights first because we’d have to pull her hair through the highlighting cap. I took a picture to send to Madison’s mom, but I love Madison too much to put that picture here and if the roles were reversed, I hope she’d use the same discretion. But here’s what I’m talking about.

We underestimated the length of time it would take to finish. We looked like 2 monkeys cleaning each other and in 2 full hours, with about a 30 minute break for dinner, I finish pulling through her hair.

It was like trying to thread her hair through a colander, but I got it done and a pretty good arm workout to boot.  That’s true friendship.

My hair color took about 15 minutes to put on and 25 minutes to set. Since I was first-timer, Madison told me to rinse my hair until the water was clear. I stepped into the shower ready to “wash that gray right out of my hair”.  Little did I know that when rinsing, I would be reenacting the shower scene from Psycho. Wow.  

All in all, it was a good experience. It turns out neither of our hair is purple or orange. Madison’s highlights look great and I’m rocking a head of the Lightest Golden Brown you can buy in a box for $7.99. Maybe hair coloring can take the place of baking on the list of things I’ll do for my friends. The jury is still out.

This is the Most Fun!

It’s been a little over a week and I’ve already had...

Thanks so much for checking out this crazy blog! I promise to keep it interesting.  

25 Things about Me: #5

5. As a young girl, I thought that my dad was the actor who played Mike Brady on the Brady Bunch.

Here’s a side-by-side:

If you can’t see it, squint your eyes a little. This was before I had my glasses, so that's probably what I was doing.

Growing up, my Daddy was in the Army and spent some weekends away at drill exercises. I thought that was when he would leave and go to Hollywood to film the show. Little did I know, that The Brady Bunch was already in reruns by the time I was old enough to watch it. So I know now that was not my Daddy.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

25 Things about Me: #4

4. I have an ungodly love of cake.

FACT: Cake is the greatest dessert known to man or at least this wo-man. I attribute may love of cake to my Southern upbringing. Cake is and will always be the perfect period to every meal sentence.  You haven’t finished your meal without a piece of cake bringing up the rear. More times than not, cake is often breakfast with a big glass of milk.

At my Granny’s house, during the holidays, there were no less than 4 types of cake available for eating. Among your choices were 7-Layer Chocolate, Robert E. Lee, Raisin, Red Velvet, Pecan, Hummingbird, Pound Cake, Sour Cream Pound Cake and every once and a while, just for me, Orange. Cake was ever abounding cake and I ate it. Here is a picture of me as a little girl already checking out the cake at Aunt Alice and Uncle Willie's 50th Wedding Anniversary. I'm sure that I was about to put my finger in it, but became distracted when someone wanted to take my picture.

My love of cake has been a constant over the years. I consider myself a cake snob. I won’t shake my fist at a piece of cake, but if it’s not my Granny’s or my Mother’s cakes, it will be judged on the strictest of standards. One standard is the icing to cake ratio, then of course, there is always taste and moistness.  For pound cakes, it was imperative that there be an occurrence of a raw streak and to what thickness does the raw streak occur. The raw streak is the bottom of the baking pan where the cake remains slightly uncooked when pulled out of the oven. When the pan is inverted to release the cake, the raw streak is at the top. It is the very best part of a pound cake.

When I came to Tampa, I was introduced to the next best cake since my Granny’s. It is Wright’s Gourmet’s Alpine Cake. It is a classic yellow cake with chocolate icing and it is delicious. I could put myself into a diabetic coma with the amount of that cake I can put back. And unlike Granny’s cakes, that were only available during the holidays and special visits, Wright’s makes Alpine cake EVERYDAY. Danger.  Wright’s also has another one of my favorites, Hummingbird. It is a banana and pineapple spice cake that is frosted with cream cheese icing and topped with pecans. Again, danger.

I sometimes use cake in an ibuprofen-type way. A slice of cake often helps me to feel better. I was having a bad day at work, so I decided to go pick-up an Alpine cake to help me and my co-workers feel better. Once everyone had a slice of that cake, the day went by just a little smoother. I don’t do that a lot, but every once and a while, a little piece of cake can help you smile. After the cake incident, a co-worker of mine felt compelled to make this PSA poster.

I willing posed for this picture not knowing what my co-worker had planned to do with it, but nevertheless, it was genius. I sent this picture to my Mother and she couldn’t tell that it was me. Should I die from a cake overdose, please tell my story. Save the next girl from the dangers of cake.

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

25 Things about Me: #3

3. I am allergic to plastic silverware.

This is a tough one. People can’t get their brains wrapped around this one, but it is a real thing. I cannot eat with any plastic fork, spoons and definitely not sporks!

Plastic bottles, cups, straws and the like are fine, but no silverware. If I do, I get a nasty blister on my bottom lip. Kinda like a cold sore, but way worse, because there’s not topical cream that can soothe the pain or make it go away. Because it is an allergic reaction, I could slather if with Benadryl cream, but I might die from ingesting its poison. It is not pretty and very painful. So to combat having to use it, I carry a fork and spoon (monogrammed, of course) with me where ever I go, unless I’m traveling in a mode that might consider them a weapon.

A smart person told me that I may be allergic to one of the plastic compounds, polypropylene or polystyrene, and an easy way to find out would be to self-inflict with each type and see which one causes the allergic reaction. EASY?!?! SELF-INFLICT?!?! I think not. I’ll just continue to carry my pretentious monogrammed fork and spoon.

The irony of this allergy is that I hate washing dishes, especially silverware. I can remember cringing during the holidays at my Granny’s house when it was my turn to wash the dishes. My cousins would always leave the silverware for last and for me to finish. I hated that and it has carried through to my adulthood. So since I hate washing dishes, I only use paper plates in my house. I have the real stuff, but it’s only for company. But I can’t use the plastic silverware and my sink is usually full of forks and spoons needing to be washed. I could go broke buying more silverware when the silverware I currently have is dirty, but that just means more silverware to wash. Boo!

As a side note: My church changed their brand of all-in-one communion cups and it turns out that I am allergic to them, too.  So I’ve asked that I be provided a juice box and a baguette for my communion. It hasn’t happened yet, but that’s ok. Good thing taking communion isn’t the only way to get into heaven.  

Here are the other revealed 25 things:

1. I was almost born in the vault at the Alabama State Capital.

2. I fear that my appendix will spontaneously burst and I will die.

A Little Piece of Heaven in Tampa Bay

Heaven = Yogurtology. My friend and co-worker, Becca, has been raving about this place for weeks, probably months. Today, Madison and I finally got a wild hair to go and check it out.

When you walk in, it seems like a very unassuming place. A few tables, some chairs and along one wall, a few spigots that dispense yogurt. Don’t be fooled, these spigots dispense pure deliciousness. There are about 10 or 12 of said spigots that release flavors like Cookies and Cream, Red Velvet Cake, Oatmeal Cookie, Pistachio, Peanut Butter and Cheesecake. Clearly that’s not all they have, but I forgot to remember the ones I wasn’t interested in. That’s why you should take a trip over for yourself.

How does it work, you ask? Get yourself in there, pick-up a container or small bucket, from the looks of it, and fill it to your heart’s delight.

Fill it with the yogurt(s) of your choosing and finish it of with the hodgepodgery of toppings – candies of all kinds, sauces, nuts, and fruit – and bottoms – cake pieces, brownies and cookies, if you’re so inclined. The combinations are endless.

Beware: By filling up that bucket, you are agreeing to pay by the ounce, but it’s only $0.49 an ounce! Plus, this stuff is good for you. Based on a 4oz serving, the most expensive, calorically speaking, is 179 calories for the Ultimate Peanut Butter. A justified, sensible dessert or meal.

In a brief wave of self-control, I had a little of the Pistachio and Oatmeal Cookie with a sprinkle of pecans. It was happiness in my mouth. Both flavors tasted just like what they were called. It’s not like some other places that serve that sour tasting yogurt and propose that you put fruit on it to help make it taste better. Guess what? It doesn’t. Madison had a little of the Cookies and Cream with I Heart NY Cheesecake sprinkled with chunks of Reese’s Cup.  We were both please with our selections and look forward to getting some more of that!

Here’s where it can be found and the hours:

Yogurtology - Tampa Store

1202 South Church Street, Suite C (the corner of Henderson, Watrous and Church)

Tampa, FL 33629

  

Hours: 11am-10pm Sunday - Thursday
11am-11pm Friday & Saturday

Check it out and Enjoy!