Monday, August 27, 2007
The Sunday Breakfast Smackdown--Or Brackfiss, Depending On Where You Hang Your Hat...
Required Ingredients:

1 lb. Jimmy Dean HOT Sausage
1/2 c. Finely Chopped Onion
2 c. Grated Sharp Cheddar
1 pkg. Pillsbury French Bread Loaf
1 Egg, Lightly Beaten

preheat Oven to 350 degrees

Brown Sausage meat and onion in heavy bottomed skillet, drain fat. Let sausage cool. Unroll Pillsbury bread dough onto wax paper that has been lightly sprayed with PAM cooking spray. Layer crumbled sausage meat and onion on top of bread dough, leaving a 1 inch perimeter on all sides. Top sausage meat with cheddar cheese. Roll as you would a jelly roll, tucking the ends in as you go. Place seam side down on heavy cookie sheet and brush with lightly beaten egg. Bake in 350 degree oven for 15-18 minutes or until bread is toasty brown and sounds hollow when knocked upon.

Let sit for 5 minutes, slice and serve and you have yourself a mean sausage bread that is a hit with one and all. Or, you can take it up to the next level, as I did for brunch yesterday for The Hubs--

Slice 4 pieces of sausage bread about as thick as a hearty piece of toast and place on plate, forming circles of two slices each. Top each slice with a nice fat, freshly fried egg that has been peppered liberally with fresh ground black pepper.

Beckon whomever you have prepared this for to the table, in my case, calling The Hubs repeatedly in from the garage where he was working on his GODFORSAKEN, BLEEPITY-BLEEP-BLEEPIN CAR STEREO instead of out golfing with his beloved and never demanding, always aiming to please wife--ahem--wha? Oh, yes--breakfast.

As I was saying, beckon your crowd to the table and serve alongside some freshly sliced tomatoes, a cuppa joe, some freshly squeezed OJ or whatever accoutrement's you so desire.

Let me show you The Hubs preferred method of consumption. He takes this:


Oh, don't be shy. Come a little closer so you can actually SEE it!




Yummy, right? Mmm-mmm-good. Anyways, he takes that and douses it liberally with Tabasco sauce, like this:


I don't know how the hell he doesn't just torch his mouth to smithereens, but he is wont to dump Tabasco sauce all over everything. I've stopped taking it personally. Since it was definitely noon somewhere, even if not in OUR time zone, he accompanied his brunch with this:


And that, my friends, is what I have dubbed "Rednecks Benedict".

Try it, I can pretty much guarantee it will go down in history as a favorite. There is something very satisfying about it.

Considering how unfriendly it is to the old ticker though, I wouldn't make it TOO often!

Friday, August 24, 2007
One Day...
One day, perhaps, I will stop bringing home the proverbial bird with the broken wing, believing that with enough love, care and attention; I can fix it.

One day, I may realize that I cannot be the panacea for the World's problems.

One day, I may have a better understanding of the human condition.

One day, I may not be overly shocked, when people take advantage.

However, I will never allow myself for even one day, to become so jaded as to not be willing to lend a helping hand.

Thursday, August 23, 2007
Holla At A Playah!
As you have all heard me lament on occasion, The Hubs is a bit of a car audio aficianado--and it is the bane of my existence. (Not really, but shhh--don't tell him, I don't want him to get any bright ideas about his next project. Capisce? Good. Thanks.) Well, as it turns out, he has been invited to attend the national finals in Atlanta, Georgia and compete, yet again, for something or other. I'm sure he told me what it was, but what I heard was something like this: "I am going to be attending the IASCA national finals yada-yada-yada-blah-blah-blah." I swear, he sounded JUST like the adults on the Peanuts cartoons. For real.

At any rate, I digress. He and I recently attended a more local show where I was given prime example of how much self control he actually exercises in his decisions about equipment purchases. Which loosely translates to what arguments he decides to have with yours truly, as evidenced by the photos I am about to share with you today. I am just going to show you the paraphernalia of one person competing in the same show, but I think you will see what I mean..

The guy was driving this:


And towing this:


Which also contained this:


And because there was only one of him and more than one of his rides to show, he had his friend drive this for him:


I was being stealthy in the capturing of photos so I was unable to ask him to properly close the car door but you can see that it had a whole lotta this just the same:


And then his other buddy drove this out there for him:


All of which he ensured happened in a timely manner by frequently checking this:


And that, my friends, is a WHOLE LOTTA BLING.

Given that the GUY I am referring to had two very feminine sounding names which may *cough totally were cough* or may not have been Cherry and Courtney or some variation of that order of those two very names, I am sort of inclined to believe that perhaps he may have been overcompensating just a wee bit. How about you?

Friday, August 17, 2007
Keepin' It real, Yo-
I know it has been a while since I have shared with you any of the great Leesterisms, so today I give you this gem. This is yesterday morning's email correspondence.

Me: Most awesomely awesome dream last night ever--I dreamt I was doing my orientation for my new job, as a nurse. I had already graduated and was working. It made it seem very real to me and I woke up feeling very positive today.


Me: are SUCH an asshole.

The Hubs: I'm not an asshole

Me: Dude, I'm so sharing with you my important dream of the future and you have to make it about sex dreams. That makes you an asshole.

The Hubs: Yes, it was very opportunistic.

Me: Hahaha--you ass. Especially when your nurse dreams have had absolutely NOTHING to do with me. Ya shmuck.

The Hubs: You know you love me.

Thursday, August 16, 2007
A State of Unease..
Mah Gawd I love me the Herriken Season--Y'all just cannut unnerstand, less ya bin through a couple, ah reckun...

I have either been in Florida for way too long or not nearly long enough, when I am more than just a little disappointed upon the realization that DEAN will have very little bearing on us.


There is something oddly festive about hurricane preparations--a certain air of everyone banding together against the perils of nature. Rallying as one, regardless of race, creed or station in life. And damn, the quest for plywood, generators and bottled water--that is a carnival atmosphere in and of itself. You should be so lucky to one day witness the art of 'Hunkerin Down'!

Whooo-Heee dawg and lawsie mercy! It's fixin to get a bit wild in and around the Sunshine State!

It just had better not fugg with mah golf game.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Incompetence, Incontinence And Other Abject Lessons
Sometimes I wonder what I may have done in order to have the cosmos sit back and laugh at me the way they do at times. Let me share with you so that you will truly understand just how..

As I stated in a previous post, my dear little Oldilocks has found herself a gentleman friend. And while this means that she is far more entertained and less bored and despondent than she previously was, it also means that I am constantly putting out these little fires every time I go to visit. Such as trying to convince one rather dirty old man (**hereafter known as DOM) that while she is more than interested in spending time with him and being his companion, she is not interested in *ahem* relations of that variety as she is not available to marry him--and without doing so, the other is just an impossibility.

After all, she is a lady--and ladies just do not. Especially thrice married and widowed ladies of the archaic variety.

Monday saw me forced to sit down with both of them and try and explain this to him, as Oldilocks was in a terrible state of misery about his advances since we had last spoken. It turns out that **DOM is of the fast-fingered groping variety, regardless of time and place. Picture, if you will (although trust me, it is kinda painful to picture, let alone witness), him giving the Oldilocks the drive-by grope as she shuffles by his lunch table on the way to her own. Suffice it to say that she was mortified. And she cannot really move fast enough to out wile him, walker-bound that she is. So, it fell to me to try and make her wishes known, as she is somewhat tongue-tied after her strokes and DOM just cannot seem to understand what NO means.

Well, imagine my discomfort when DOM looked me in the eye (as well as he is able to through his cataracts) and informed me that while he could understand what I was saying, he was a man, with certain needs, and that if he and Oldilocks chose to act upon impulse; who was I to dictate otherwise? I informed him that Oldilocks did not wish to take it any further than companionship and the occasional hand-pat and kiss on the cheek and he got a little indignant, informing me that he had no intention to just attack her--after all, they call it a love affair, not a hate affair.

All well and good, right? So says you--but put yourself in MY shoes, when his entire spiel was accompanied by the loudest, longest most vile passing of gas that he was seemingly unaware of.

How the hell was I to keep a straight face and not insult the man??

I am not entirely convinced that that ploy wasn't number one in his arsenal of dealing with being shot down.

Or would that be SHAT down?

My mother claims it is good practice for when they are aged and doddering and I am forced to take care of them.

To this I say nay, it'll be antifreeze kool-aid for the pair of them.

Welcome to my life. Oy Vey!

Tuesday, August 14, 2007
At A Snails Pace..
Now having the ability to follow up on our ongoing non immigrant VISA application with the USCIS.GOV website, I am in the habit of checking pretty much daily to see where we stand in our quest to reside in the lovely State of Florida for another two years. I'm sure you will be as pleased to know as I was that they are currently working on petitions filed on April 02, 2007.

Who knew then, that the lovely State of Florida could also be known as the lovely State of Purgatory?

Where we sit and wait...

and wait...

and wait...

Why should this matter, right? We can be here during the processing time, we can continue life as normal, we can live as we always do--


Sometimes I just have to shake my head at how ludicrous it all is. That, and it really bothers me more than I can explain not to have a valid drivers license. Just one of those things, I guess.

*grumble grumble*

Ah, the quest to live permanently in the land of opportunities.


In other happenings, a question for you.. Does my desire to purchase one of these Bullet Proof Back Packs for The prodigy make me overly paranoid, or smart? What would you, as a parent do?

Friday, August 10, 2007
Young At Heart.
I know I said I would regale you with tales of Oldilocks yesterday but I was out. Golfing. That makes 36 holes so far this week, with another 36 minimum intended over the weekend. Ah yes, 'tis the life. Yesterday kind of kicked my arse though, considering it was something like 110 degrees with the heat index. H-O-T hot! But still, so very much fun.

At any rate--For those that do not know, Oldilocks is now permanently in an assisted living place. She is simply unable to live on her own without constant care. She was initially quite displeased by this because, as I'm sure we can all imagine, the total loss of independence after some 96 years has got to sting.


But suddenly, little miss Oldilocks doesn't have time for visits from the likes of me or her son, because little miss thang has got herself a suitor! I know, right? It just cracks me up to see her talk of him. She actually gets somewhat flustered and blushes when she talks about him, about how nice he is and how very much she enjoys spending time with him.

I just know that each of you reading this thought to yourselves something along the lines of "Aww, how sweet, she is happy.", or "Aww, how cute.". That was my initial reaction too, actually.

Yeah, well that lasted all of about 5 minutes, until she informed me that her beau was sure to tell her that he could still 'have his little soldier stand at attention'.



Dudes--that is just way too much for me to handle, even when you disregard entirely the somewhat disturbing visual that immediately comes to mind...I mean seriously. that is A LOT of wrinkles, people! I very nearly choked on my coffee when she said it, but couldn't refrain from laughing uproariously. Oldilocks, well she giggled like a school girl.

So, imagine my surprise the next day when upon arriving to visit her, I was asked by the staff to speak to both Oldilocks and her Beau about appropriate behavior as one of the caregivers happened upon Oldilocks in various stages of undress with her beau in her apartment.

Uhmmm....yeah. So, now how do I deal with this, when really, I say if you have such limited time left on the earth why not LIVE? We all know she is going to die, she may as well 'die happy' as the old adage goes. Also, when did I become parent to a 96 year old woman, if you please? Oh. My. God.

Seriously though, there are rumblings of marriage from both of them, which REALLY probably wouldn't be a good idea for various reasons and I am currently trying to talk her out of the idea by telling her to just go ahead and live in sin (Hello, convince someone old school to do that, it goes against the grain of everything they believe in, I know, and how.) and while that is a mixed bag, it would be easier than trying to deal with her family if she were to get married...they'd probably try and have her declared incompetent. For reasons that only those with some serious cash understand, when they see such holdings at risk.

I get that, I do...but I think it more important for her to live her last time here on earth knowing happiness, feeling loved and having companionship. I've watched her be lonely for too long and frankly, no amount of money is worth it.

Now, I bet you didn't guess that I would regale you with tales of errrmmm--tail!


Have a good weekend. You can find me on the links.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Happy Hump Day!
If my husband were here and I had said that, his ears would perk up--because he is like that.

"Hump? Did someone say hump? Honey? Baby? Hubba, hubba!"

Yeah, kind of like a dog. Good thing he is cute, right?

So, while I have been somewhat removed from my little bloggadicio where I sometimes braggadocio, and kind of quiet all around, which believe me and anyone you may ask who knows me, goes entirely against the norm, I have returned.

See, the thing is, when I am under any amount of stress I tend to internalize it and get rather cerebral. As I have mentioned before, to give voice to the things I am concerned about somehow gives them more validity in my own mind and can make them seem all-encompassing. So I make these little concessions with myself and take on a no talk-no worry policy. It is what works, for me. It's how I keep things tolerable.

Well, NO MORE! Today, I celebrate the rather large deduction from our checking account which symbolizes the INS' acceptance of our current quest for VISA renewal and I celebrate the fact that in all likelihood and barring natural disaster, terrorism or an act of God (kinda sounds like the disclaimers on our insurance policy), we will be allowed to stay here for another two years.

Can I get a collective sigh of relief here people? Please?

*Does the happy dance*


So, while the system is still completely broken and entirely messed up and until we receive the final absolute authorization and as such remain unlicensed drivers and totally on the wrong side of the law daily as a result of it, I CARE NOT!

I get to friggin relax! I can finally unclench my teeth after 6 months or so. And yanno? My damn jaw hurts. Just sayin'

*Does some more happy dancin*

And on that note, I am off to go and visit with Oldilocks. Tune in tomorrow when I will regale you with the tales of her adventures--the likes of which have been kind of making my hair curl. Whooo-Heeee Mama! Suffice it to say, the Old Girl has still got game.


Wednesday, August 01, 2007
A Hankerin For The Home Country
Every now and then, The prodigy has a yearning for all things Canadian. He will start to reminisce about his early childhood in Canada, the time spent with his cousins frolicking in the snow in the winter and other things fairly unavailable to us here in the sunny State of Florida. One sure-fire way I have found to appease him is to prepare this dish, known in this household as Canadian Gold. So, today I will share with you the recipe for the concoction known as poutine.

First of all, break out the trusty old deep-fryer or deep, heavy based saucepan. Add as much vegetable oil as will be needed to fully submerse, deep fry and thereby render lethal some julienne cut potatoes. (Or in my case, some frozen Ore-Ida crinkly cut french fries. But wouldn't you agree, that whole julienne-cut fancy schmancy business sounds better? Work with me, here, wouldja??)


Fry until a crisp, golden brown. Locate wallet. Open and verify health care coverage is current. Set wallet aside.


When french fries have achieved desired state of crispy goodness, drain briefly on paper towel or other absorbent material. Be old school and daring and choose newspaper if you'd like. Do not drain too long or you will lose some valuable, artery clogging grease. This is STRICTLY forbidden. Season said fries liberally with salt. Your arteries will love you for it.


Divide french fries into equal portions into shallow serving bowls. You may use a plate if you'd prefer, but in the end you will only be screwing yourself. Trust me on this. Once french fries (or freedom fries, if you wanna be like THAT) have been argued over and divied up, cover generously in cheese. While fresh cheese curds are what is called for in this recipe, and are truly, unequivocally the best thing ever, they are not readily available here in the land of plenty; so I have found that whole milk mozzarella shreds will do in a pinch. Do NOT try and use skim milk mozzarella. That is just WRONG. You WILL be punished.


Stop and take gratuitous picture of cheesy fried yumminess, since you may just love your camera's macro abilities just a little bit and want to make out with it. Gather your wits about yourself and prepare to proceed to next step.


Having had the foresight to prepare all things needed for this delightful cholesterol roller coaster ride of a dish ahead of time, retrieve rich, dark brown beef gravy from the stove top.


Commence smothering of cheesy fries in rich, deep brown gravy until they are veritably swimming in a little brown pool of beefy goodness. See when I said you'd be screwing yourself in the end, with a plate? Aren't ya glad ya listened? Am always right. Make note. Retrieve cell phone or other communication device to have handy, just in case.


Force child to stop and wash his greebly little hands before digging in. Further force child to stop mid-gobble for his neurotic Mother to take a picture to share with the interwebs. Drool over cheesy, melty, crispy, beefy rich goodness that is poutine. Bless yourself and thank the sweet baby Jeebus that your son's fingernails are actually sorta clean.


Commence heart palpitations, uncontrollable sweating, numbness in jaw, crushing weight on chest and inexplicable pain in left arm. Dial 911 and thank GOD you have health care coverage, because this shit is indeed a heart attack on a plate!