Mostly Midlife

Let's Face it!

2011-09-27T21:02:00.000-07:00

I've always been lucky to have inherited my Grandmother's beautiful skin. Words can't express how grateful I am now for those genes, but during my teen years, I could have cared less. And it was only a few years ago that I started paying attention to products for the face.

In a past blog I wrote about Olay's line filling miracle cream. Well, move over Olay. Sisely of Paris has entered the room! I was introduced to their night cream by accident after spending a certain amount of money at Neiman Marcus and receiving the complimentary gift.

The cashier handed me my new leopard print bag, the free gift when you spent $100, and told me how much I was going to enjoy the samples inside. Okay, I thought to myself. A few perfume testers, a tube of lipstick, a moisturizer packet...yeah, yeah.

When I got into my car, the anticipation was just too much. I was a kid in a candy store. So, I pulled out the variety of freebies and began sorting through the delicious choices right there in my car. I almost missed the fifteen minute window for getting out of the parking lot with my paid parking ticket.

The inventory of the bag was really quite impressive. Prada, Givency...but the best sample had to be Sisley's anti-aging night cream. Later that evening, I decided to try it out. I washed my face, opened the miniature gold tube, squeezed out a small amount and applied it to my face. Within seconds I could feel the effects of the cream working. My skin tightened in all the right places and the cream was not only smooth, but it smelled great.

Like most of us today looking for information about something, I Googled Sisley to find out how much this was going to cost me. Are you sitting down? Because I was and I still almost passed out from sticker shock. For a mere $775 you can purchase a 1.7 ounce supply of this heavenly manna. And the disclaimer read...there is a six per customer limit. Really?

Needless to say, I won't be purchasing that product until my singles profile on Millionaire Match attracts a sugar daddy. In the meantime, I did find some on sale on eBay. Cost...$27 and free shipping for three sample size tubes. But I'm worth it!

This is what I found inside: nside I found perfume samples from Prada and Givency.

My Back Porch

2011-09-05T19:04:00.000-07:00

There's just something about a back porch that makes a house a home. Maybe it's because when I'm there, I feel like everything is the way it's supposed to be. Right now I'm sitting on the back porch of my new place - a very quaint two-bedroom apartment in the sprawling metropolis of Baytown.

On my back porch sits a comfortable white wicker chair and a side table where I put my cup of coffee or glass of wine depending on the time of day or rather the kind of day I've had. My visits to the back porch are therapeutic. At dusk the sky parades brilliant colors across the horizon reassuring me that although this day has ended, another one will follow in the morning.

Tonight I was thinking about how I ended up here on this particular back porch. I recently moved into the apartment after my long-term relationship went south. I saw it coming about a year ago, but I guess you don't expect it to happen to you...a second time. I just knew this would be different. I really thought I had cast the perfect prince charming for my fairy tale movie. Okay...so it turns out he wasn't.

After that, I decided that an intervention was what I needed. Enter my therapist. When I go for a session, she often just smiles and listens as she scribbles notes on her 8 1/2 X 11 yellow legal pad. I would love to know what she writes on that thing. If it were me, I'd be doodling stick figures.

I know I could never do what she does without at least once telling my client that I wasn't serving any cheese with that whine. But, she never does. She simply listens and writes on the yellow notepad.

Her office is worth a visit even if you don't get any help. It's beautifully decorated in rich hues and the walls are dotted with paintings that scream femininity.There is a couch that doesn't even remotely resemble the ones you see in the movies, but you'll find a comfortable chair with a side table. There isn't any coffee or wine, but a box of tissues if the need arises. The most intriguing piece in her office is this little bowl of stone figures, each one representing an emotion.

The first time I went, I noticed them. After my second visit, I asked what they were and learned that she uses them to help people who can''t verbalize their emotions. Really? That's a new concept. I've never had a problem expressing my emotions.

I drove to her office for my latest session recently. I was so consumed with anger that I had to figure out what the heck to do with it because if I didn't, it wasn't going to be pretty. Although looking back, the actions from that might have ensured I would get a book publishing deal after being released from prison. Then, I'd make a ton of money and go into hiding.

All joking aside, I walked into the office late because whoever put up the detour signs on Bay Area Boulevard was a complete idiot. I looked through the bowl of stone figures for kicks to see if there was one that could express my anger. Not even close...just saying. Her advice to me was that I should do nothing concerning the anger that involved my hands, feet, or mouth. Thank goodness that didn't rule out body slamming or head butting.

I guess in a way, her office is much like my back porch. It's a place I can go and put together the pieces of life's puzzle. And when my time with her is through, I'll still have my own back porch.

An Evening with Great Women

2011-02-10T19:30:00.001-08:00

While having dinner with some colleagues and a guest author a few nights ago, I was reminded of the intoxicating effect great conversation has on me.

I'm naturally drawn to people who like to talk, but I especially enjoy intelligent, engaging women who have opinions and don't mind sharing them. After the waitress took our order, the four of us began to carry on like best friends reuniting after a long absence. We talked about everything from writing and books to life decisions, movies, and careers. Our corner of the restaurant was buzzing with chatter and excitement.

The evening reminded me of the global dinner party I had last summer where friends joined at my home for ethnic food, wine, and storytelling as hundreds of other women around the world gathered in their own homes that same night. Each of us had a special memory to share though we came from different backgrounds and experiences. Note to self...make the dinner party an annual event!

It's a strange phenomenon, but I feel my mother's presence stronger than any other time when I'm with a group of friends sharing stories. It's almost as if she is sitting at the table, and I half expect to hear her voice as she puts in her two cents worth.

My mom was a beautiful, talented writer and artist who taught me the art of conversation. My dad worked overseas, so my sister and I, who were too afraid to stay alone in the other part of the house, slept with my mom in her king sized bed. She always had a story to tell; sometimes it was a parable from the Bible, other times it was the most fantastical tale I had ever heard. Most nights I think we fell asleep to the sound of her soothing voice.

There is something magical that happens when women come together. After dinner that evening, I left with a renewed sense of purpose, a feeling of peace, and the assurance that anything is possible. A special thanks to Rose Marie for the invitation, Selena for her beautiful soul, and Kate for her inspiration.

A Day of Nothing

2011-01-16T20:40:00.000-08:00

Today was a very untypical day for me. I did absolutely nothing of any merit unless you count the few minutes I used up balancing my bank account and making a grocery list. Oh, and there was the quick trip to pick up my monthly assurance that I will not endure raising another teenager and a quick stop for a chocolate shake.

Other than that, I have nothing to check off on a to do list, and it felt absolutely fantastic. I stayed in my pajamas until well past three, eventually giving those up for some comfy sweat pants and T-shirt. I'm not even sure if I brushed my hair or washed my face this morning. Leftover pizza from last night's outing served as lunch, and the two-day old taco soup was heated up on the stove for dinner.

I spent most of my day reading the latest issue of Cosmo, studying Italian language lessons for my bucket list trip to Italy, playing Scrabble, writing...all with my new best friend the Ipad...and watching some NFL action.

I can remember a time when a day like today would have never happened. Pre- midlife crisis I would spend every waking moment running around like a mad woman trying to earn my domestic goddess badge and mother of the year award. I'm not sure whose expectations those were...mine or those of an imaginary voice telling me that to be still was being lazy.

Thank God I have been delivered from the bondage of such ridiculousness. And the best part is that nobody cared, the little voice I used to hear has been silenced.

Story of My Life?

2011-01-01T12:36:00.000-08:00

The end of the year always brings with it a chance for self reflection. Now this can be a good thing unless you begin to fill your mind with the countless what ifs. And let me tell you I am a master at dragging up those missed opportunities, unrealized dreams, and best intentions.

And it doesn't stop with the previous year unfortunately. Sometimes I go decades back to re-examine my past. Of course I know that my life's experiences have made me the person I am today, and all the decisions I've made helped create the life I have now. Okay...whatever.

A famous author once told me that the question "what if" was one the best idea generators for his young adult novels. After considering several of my own...here's the beginning to one possible story of my life. Disclaimer...names have been changed to protect the innocent and some scenes have been fictionalized for effect.

Miranda’s life had been a simple one. After graduating from the American University of Paris, she took a job as an art instructor at Midwestern College and spent most of her weekends volunteering at the McNeill Gallery, a privately owned venture that housed one of the finest collections of impressionist and post-impressionist paintings and sculptures.

In her spare time, she freelanced for style and fashion magazines, and on occasion made time to have dinner with close friends; she rarely dated and was quite content in her downtown loft with her cat, Azure, her paints and easel, and volumes of classic literature.

Miranda usually worked Saturday afternoons at the McNeill; she often found herself standing in the Rose Wing of the gallery lost in Renoir’s landscapes and nudes. The heavy, thick brushstrokes in oil on ancient canvas were hypnotic like fine wine and took her back to Montmarte where so many greats had sat along the Seine capturing the daily life of ordinary French men and women as they came and went.

It was there in the Rose Wing that he first captured her attention – Alonso Romaro, the oldest son of a wealthy, private collector, who had flown in from Columbia to view the gallery’s collection. Her life would never be the same.

How Much Does Your Life Weigh?

2010-12-26T19:38:00.000-08:00

I just finished watching one of my favorite George Clooney movies, Up in the Air. And no matter how many times I see it, I'm always caught off guard by the opening scene where Clooney's character Ryan Bingham speaks to a group of men and women at a business conference. The question he poses goes something like this...

How much does your life weigh? Imagine for a second that you're carrying a backpack. I want you to pack it with all the stuff that you have in your life...

After having his audience think of all the "baggage" they have in their lives in the form of material possessions and personal relationships, he goes on to suggest that a person should empty his/her backpack of these things in order to achieve success and happiness. Even if you haven't seen the movie, you can guess that by the end, Bingham realizes he is delivering a false message but is helpless to change the impact it has had on his own life.

So how much does your life weigh? I ask myself the same question every time I see the movie. I've decided to post that quote on my desk at school and around the house in several places as a reminder to - keep life real, pack my backpack with my most treasured items, and toss out the junk that weighs it down. If this is
such a simple philosophy, then why do I find myself at times carrying an overloaded pack?

I can't possibly explore the answer to that question in such a short space, so perhaps I'll save it for a future blog. Or maybe I'll just toss it into the junk pile.

Fill it, Seal it...Not Homemade Jelly

2010-12-23T13:57:00.000-08:00

Don't let the title fool you. This isn't another blog about filling and sealing jars of jalapeno jelly or my further attempts at homemade canning. I'd like to introduce you to Olay's must-have beauty products - Regenerist Filling and Sealing treatment and their night time lifting and firming cream.

I remember watching my mother-in-law slather generous amounts of cream on her face and neck at night. At the time, I was a mere sapling and couldn't understand what all the fuss was about. As a matter of fact, back then I never even removed my make up at the end of the day. I simply got up in the morning, showered and washed my face with whatever bar soap was available.

Enter midlife...when I turned 45 I either suddenly gained better vision (not the case since I have recently purchased reading glasses and got a prescription for driving glasses) or finally noticed the tiny lines that have crept onto my face while I was living life. Now don't get me wrong, I am blessed with my grandmother's beautiful, creamy skin, it's just that I'm pretty sure she didn't worship the sun like I have.

So what's a girl to do when she wants to erase those crow's feet, laugh lines, and frown marks? There are more products on the market today than ever before including a list of injections and surgical procedures. Aside from the obvious...reduce sun exposure, avoid smoking, reduce stress, keep your face moisturized, and eat a healthy diet... there are a few home remedies that might look pretty interesting.

You could always try applying the juice of green pineapples and apples to your face daily. Or you might make a paste of tumeric powder and sugarcane and use as a facial mask. I've heard cucumbers, bananas, papayas, lemon juice, and castor oil also do the trick, all used separately and applied to those difficult spots.

The Olay filling and sealing treatment does exactly what you would think. It fills the little lines and allows you to "hide" them under your foundation. The night time firming lifting cream seems to tighten the skin on my neck, and I'm pretty pleased with those results.

While I'm not quite ready to have someone stick a needle into my face to remove those testy lines, I don't see myself mixing up a bowl of fruit salad to apply to my trouble spots either. I guess I'll just stick with my Olay products for now.

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kitsa_sakurako/

All in a Day

2010-12-22T07:19:00.000-08:00

You know it's a good day when...the peach mango jam turned out beautifully, candied jalapeños are ready to go for Christmas, and the jelly finally reset! Now everyone in the family will have his/her own personal, edible gift straight from my kitchen.

Snapshot of Buster

2010-12-20T13:45:00.000-08:00

After almost twelve years, my family and I are saying goodbye to an old friend tomorrow. Buster, our silly old bear, has been a loyal companion, protector, and friend. As I write this, he is lying on the kitchen floor, ears perked back, eyes watching every move I make, but he just isn't the same dog. Age has taken its toll as well as a tumor that makes him look as if he has swallowed a basketball. I take a few moments in between memories to scratch behind his ears where he loves it best. I wish he would just close his eyes and take that final breath, but if he doesn't then we've decided to put him to rest.

Buster is a Pembroke Corgi, not a breed everyone recognizes right away. He's a tri-color with a perfectly shaped white diamond on the back of his neck. I remember the day we picked him up at a farm in Nacogdoches like it was yesterday.

He has definitely had some grand adventures in his lifetime. Buster was never afraid of the water and enjoyed a good swim once in a while. I remember one occasion when we were camping on Lake Sam Rayburn. We had gone out in the boat that morning, and of course Buster never missed a chance to tag along. My two boys wanted to find a swimming spot, so we pulled the boat up to a little island and tied off. We made a small camp and put out the lawn chairs. Buster would run up and down the sandy spots near the water barking and playing and watching out for Addison and Taylor. It wasn't unusual for us to get in the boat and troll around fishing and leave Buster to guard camp. But this one time, he didn't want to stay behind. We were a pretty good distance from shore when we spotted his pointed ears and long snout sticking out of the water. His short, stubby legs paddled furiously toward our boat. From then on, Buster joined us like one of the crew.

Buster was a master squirrel chaser. Before we moved a couple of years ago, he spent his days keeping squirrels out of the backyard. You could always tell when he had one in his sights. He would crouch down low to the ground, which wasn't that far for him, and lay his ears back in stealth mode. And oh, he was patient. I've seen him stare down a chattering squirrel for what seemed like forever, only to suddenly burst forth like a super sonic rocket, sending the squirrel into an all-out panic up a tree. Now it must be said that Buster never caught a squirrel, but he tried his best and would probably agree if he could talk that those were the glory days. At our new house, there aren't any squirrels to case, so he took up harassing the mocking birds that tried to make our backyard their oasis. This proved to be more of an annoyance than anything for Buster because the birds simply flew away.

Our swimming pool became something of a personal watering hole and cool down spot for Buster. He loved to get his feet wet in the shallow end during the dog days of summer. While we swam he would run around the pool as if he wanted to jump in, but always changed his mind at the last minute. He was happy to simply "give sugars" from the edge if you would let him, and Adrian and I always did. When we barbecued, Buster was our chief taste tester. He would sit near the grill, looking up at us with those big, brown eyes, and wait to be handed a morsel of steak or chicken.

In his later years, Buster never missed a chance to join me on the patio in the evenings. I would recline in my chair with a glass of wine or cup of coffee, and he would sit next to me. We've seen many sunsets together and as many full moons. He never said much, but I could always count on him to be there. It won't be the same without him.

I've had a lot of dogs in my lifetime, but Buster ranks among the very best. Goodbye, old friend. Thank you for sharing your life and bringing us such fond memories and happiness.

Undomestic Goddess?

2010-12-14T19:49:00.000-08:00

It appears that I will have to relinquish my coveted domestic goddess crown and title. After more than 24 hours, the second batch of jalapeno jelly has not set. The little 8-ounce jars sitting on my counter are filled with a beautiful green mixture, which tastes amazing, yet I have once again failed to produce jelly that is edible. Perhaps if the recipients of said gift were to drink the jelly? Maybe I can pass it off as a new holiday drink and call it cactus juice!

I'm not really sure what happened. In fact, most recipes I consulted online were very close to the one I used. Perhaps substituting 1 cup of vinegar for a cup of apple juice wasn't a good idea. Some people told me that using liquid pectin was risky because the results are never predictable. Third time's the charm? I think not. I've ditched the idea of Christmas jalapeño jelly altogether.

So what's a girl to do when she has more than a dozen Christmas gifts to make? I won't be knitting or sewing anything; my one attempt at making a wrap around skirt in high school was enough to ensure I never became a fashion designer. I do possess other domestic talents I'm certain, but they elude me at the moment.

Luckily, I found a recipe for candied jalapenos, better known as cowgirl or cowboy candy. If you want a really good source of cowboy on-the-ranch fare, you have visit The Pioneer Woman hosted by Ree Drummond. There you will find a ton of great recipes.

My first time to try sweet, spicy candied jalapeños was at the Nutcracker market with my sister. I brought a jar home and soon understood what people meant when they said it's like fine tequila. It goes down cool and smooth, but doesn't always come back out the same way. But I digress...

Back to the recipe. I'm hoping this very simple process will produce a delicious candied snack that will please even the most discriminating palate. There are several versions of the recipe, but it goes something like this:

Buy a one-gallon jar of nacho jalapenos
Drain the juice from the peppers (some recipes say drain all the juice, others say 1/2) I am trying it both ways
Add 5 pounds of white sugar to the jar; seal the lid
Turn the jar over every day for seven days until the sugar dissolves and candies the jalapenos

We'll see... Day 2 of the process

The Making of Jalapeno Jelly

2010-12-12T14:48:00.000-08:00

No more promises from me...no more plans to have planned adventures...I'm just planning to live life and write about it when I can. Today I've spent most of my time trying to perfect jalapeno jelly. My first effort a week ago resulted in vinegary, sour congealed jelly that looked beautiful, but wouldn't win any taste tests. I'm hoping this second batch comes out a little better.

A colleague of mine shared the recipe she got from the Ball liquid pectin box. It's not a hard process, and it can produce nice little jars of green jalapeno jelly, you just have to tweak it a bit. I'm planning to give it as gifts to our family this Christmas.

**Updated after a complete failure of this batch of jelly to set! Apparently you can not follow the directions on the package of liquid pectin. I've been told that you should use 1 package of the pectin, not two. And the substitution of apple juice for the vinegar isn't necessary. Speculation is that the extra package of pectin caused the vinegary taste in the first batch.
Here's the final recipe after some changes and additions!
1 box Ball or Certo liquid pectin (2 packages)**
15 fresh jalapeno peppers
3 Serrano peppers
1/2 small green bell pepper (may substitute red or orange)
5 cups sugar
1 cup apple cider vinegar
1 cup apple juice **

Wash and seed the peppers. This is by far the most difficult and time-consuming part of the process. Put the peppers into a blender with the apple cider vinegar. Blend on low so the peppers are chopped but not minced. Pour the pepper mixture into a large pot. Add 5 cups sugar and the one cup apple juice. You can adjust the amount of sugar to taste. Bring to a hard boil and let the mixture boil for ten minutes. Add the two packets of liquid pectin and boil for one minute longer. Pour the liquid into prepared jars, seal and screw on the lid. The jelly will set within several hours and is preserved once the seal on the lid pops.

Serve the jelly on crackers with cream cheese for an easy holiday snack.

If you want to dress the jars up a bit, you can do this with Christmas print material purchased at your local craft store. Cut the material with pinking shears into a square large enough to fit generously over the size lid you have. Tie ribbon or material of choice into a bow around the jar and add a gift tag.

You are on your way to becoming a domestic goddess!

Back to the '60s adventure!

2010-03-01T18:28:00.000-08:00

This is pretty typical of me. I start out with the grandest of plans only to find that the best laid plans...well, you know the rest of that. Honestly, I didn't have any fabulous, profound, or life-changing adventure last week to write about. My hopes of riding the hot air balloon were swept away in all the rain and wind we called weather. And now the balloon has flown away to other lands.

Disappointed, I went back to my original blog to find out just exactly what I had gotten myself in for with this year of adventure. Would I really be able to hold up to such a demanding goal? After all, I have a hard time getting the laundry done every week much less setting up a grand adventure in that same time frame. I guess in my mind I envisioned myself zip lining through the rain forest, which could still be possible, or swimming with killer whales, ummm strike that off the list!

Sometimes it helps to go back to the beginning and re-evaluate the goal to make sure you're on target. Here is what I said in my introductory blog in January: "I'm looking to find the adventure in everyday life. It might be something as simple as trying a different flavor of ice cream..." (Corn ice cream, anyone?)

Okay, that made me feel one tiny bit better about my intentions. So I started thinking about the week I had. Routine as usual? I don't consider entertaining (I mean teaching) a group of pre-teens usual, but it's my day job and I absolutely love it. And once I gave my week with those kids a good think over, I realized I had experienced one colorful adventure after all.

Take a walk back with me to the days of tie-dye, protests, and drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll. Not that I remember any of that since I was a mere infant at the time. No, my adventure doesn't include exposing 11 and 12-year olds to the vices of the '60s. But we did spend the day making tie-dye t-shirts and head bands in homage to our class novel, Schooled. The book is about a home-schooled hippie named Capricorn (gotta love it, especially since that's my zodiac sign) who finds himself thrown into public middle school. He is elected eighth-grade class president as a joke, but in the end Cap teaches the students a lot about life. He learns a lot about the real world in the process, too.

The bell rang and class started with 25 kids donning white t-shirts and head bands. Those who forgot to bring theirs asked if they could use their socks. "Sure, why not, but only if they are clean" was my reply. I guess that was okay since I didn't hear from any outraged parents. I turned on some Beatles music to set the mood.

I demonstrated the process which went something like this: "Kids, take your t-shirts and bandanas and pull from the center. Now grab the material around the middle." This action produced a room full of strangely pointed phallic symbols made of white cotton. I gave my stern, don't-even-think-about-commenting teacher look to a few boys who thought they might try to make a funny.

Believe it or not, the next step involved giving every kid a handful of rubber bands. I threatened them with their lives if they dared to take any from the room and get caught using them as lethal weapons. The purpose of the rubber bands was to tie up the t-shirt in eight or nine places. This went pretty smoothly considering.

The next two steps could have sent my students on a real high. They took brightly colored markers and colored in all the sections between rubber bands. It didn't seem like it should take a long time, but some students colored diligently making sure every inch of white was covered. That's a lot of magic marker fumes!

The final step in the process was to use a spray bottom to apply rubbing alcohol over the entire shirt. The alcohol causes the colors to run, thus producing the tie-dye effect. This is where my job began. I spread out an old shower curtain and started spraying down the shirts, bandannas, and socks. By the end of the class period, all the t-shirts were doused and laid out on the curtain to dry. I don't think the air quality in the room would pass EPA standards, but we got the job done.

The kids had a great time, learned the art of tie-dying, and gained an appreciation for Paul and the boys. Me, I made a memory and shared an adventure with some of the the greatest 6th graders I know.

Chocolate is for Lovers!

2010-02-19T15:47:00.000-08:00

Honestly, I feel like my students do at times. I just haven't been in the mood
to write anything or perhaps it's that nothing I have written is worth reading. If I heard this from my students, I would lovingly tell them, "that sounds like a personal problem to me" or "I'm not serving any cheese with that "whine". So, on to the task at hand. I'm posting several photos to take up space, which might qualify my entry as more of a photo blog than anything else. Disclaimer: No, students, you may not use this technique in your assigned blogs for my English class!

The second adventure of February looked something like this:

Getting my Valentine groove on before the big trip to Central Market on Westheimer. Muah!

Chocolate Festival, here I come! Bring on the chocolate. Is there anything that isn't good covered with chocolate?

One of my first stops was at the sample table for a little taste of chocolate drops. Milk and dark chocolate yummies which rather looked a bit like rabbit turds!

Next stop...coffee shop! Give me a pound of that Sumatra Dark Roast with chocolate nibs. Uhhh...just exactly what are nibs, anyway?

Off to the bean grinder. Select brew type, place bag under metal clip, and GO!!

Now off to find the John Kelly Truffle Fudge Bar that I will get for free with this coupon.

Found it at last! I guess I got so excited about all the chocolate that I forgot to give the cashier my golden ticket. So, I paid $2.79 for a very small nugget of fudge. But it was worth it!

Last stop...the chocolate fountain where I dipped my marshmallow into the silky chocolate goodness!

Overall, it was a delicious and delightful adventure. Before leaving, I filled my basket with a nice piece of Chilean Sea Bass, crab cake, fresh veggies, and a blushing rose' for the evening meal. Can't get much better than that.

What to do for the Weekend!

2010-02-10T21:11:00.000-08:00

I couldn't stand to let the week go by without mentioning a few suggestions for a great Valentine's weekend adventure!
It must be the feature writer in me. And without completely giving away my own adventure just yet, I'll simply say it will be tasty and sinfully delightful. Having said that, here are a few ideas you might consider if you haven't already made plans.

There are a couple of excellent if not interesting movie choices out for the coming weekend. The first is "Valentine's Day" with an all-star cast line-up. It's definitely a chick flick, and I personally love Bradley Cooper. Throw in Julia Roberts and I'm sold. If you are having a hard time convincing your man to see Valentine's Day, then perhaps you can get him to watch "The Wolfman." This is another must see on my list of movies. It's the remake of a classic film and stars Anthony Hopkins. Both open February 12.

Not in the mood for movie and popcorn? Need a bit more courtship and romance? Why not go to the zoo for dinner and an evening lecture on the mating and dating habits of animals. The "Wild for Love" Valentine's dinner and lecture takes place on Saturday, February 13. I'll have to pass on this particular event even though I find it a fascinating choice. Some of my own dating experiences would probably be frighteningly similar.

More my speed is Houston Arboretum & Nature Center's outing, "Tapas on the Trails - A Valentine's Evening at the Arboretum." You'd have to be a nature lover, which I am, and trade in your fancy pants for hiking shoes and a comfortable pair of jeans. The event takes place on Saturday, February 13 and promises gourmet eats and great wine. The forest feast ends with champagne, dessert, and an appearance from one of nature's wisest creatures - the owl. Any takers?

Whatever you decide to do this Valentine's weekend, indulge your passions. Eat dessert first. Shop at the Godiva store for a box of your favorite chocolates. Buy that pricey bottle of wine you passed over the last trip to the market. You won't regret it!

February Adventure #1 - Literary Love

2010-02-04T21:25:00.000-08:00

"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore'

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amore'"

February promises to be full of adventure dipped in chocolate
and sugar coated with literary love. Not even groundhog Punxatawney Phil and his forecast for six more weeks of winter could dampen my spirits. It's going to be a month of delicious indulgence if I have anything to say about it.

While searching for adventures for my blog, two opportunities popped up that were simply perfect. I stumbled onto one event by chance in the Artshound newsletter. If you are looking for an outing in Houston, this little gem lists weekly happenings in art, music, theater, and all things literary.

The first was a book signing and reading by one of my favorite best-selling authors, Elizabeth Gilbert. She wrote Eat, Pray, Love, which is being made into a movie starring Julia Roberts. Her latest novel, Committed, chronicles her own adventure into an unlikely marriage.

My evening began with dinner at Mingalone's, an Italian restaurant and bar located on Texas Avenue downtown. I can recommend the Insalata Primevera, and I was told by a pretty reliable source that the Vitello de Teatro wasn't too bad. It was a great location near Alley Theater. After dinner I picked up my ticket at Will Call and received my copy of Committed. I couldn't wait to dig into her work, though I had already read the first chapter online.

There was enough estrogen to supply the entire female population of a third world country in the theater. Gilbert read the first chapter of her work throwing in personal commentary here and there. I found her to be funnier in person than the voice she portrayed in her books. She was genuinely honest about her reluctance to remarry, something I related to quite well. She spoke about her writing, her motivation, and I became inspired once more to pick up my pen and take a stab at the novel that's been patiently waiting years to be written.

As the evening came to a close, I waited in line with several hundred other women, some men, for Gilbert to sign my book. It was worth the wait. She thanked me for being so patient. I left with a renewed outlook on writing and relationships between men and women.

But that wasn't the only highlight of my first week in February. The following day I enjoyed dinner with young adult author Gordon Korman and my school librarian at Baytown's El Toro Mexican food restaurant. It wasn't Mingalone's, but the fish tacos were excellent as usual.

My sixth-grade class is reading his novel, Schooled, about a home-schooled hippie teenager who is dropped into the middle of a public school after his grandmother Rain breaks her hip and is hospitalized. The conversation was easy, and I enjoyed sharing ideas on writing with him. We exchanged thoughts about the publishing business, topics for new novels, and life in general.

Who knows? Maybe one day I'll join the ranks of Korman and Gilbert. For now, I'm just an ordinary girl writing about a year of midlife adventures.

Life Happens...The Ending

2010-01-27T20:21:00.000-08:00

Quite frankly, I’m ready to put January with its dreary weather and tragic events behind. Since my last blog in which I recalled the demise of my uncle and my dad’s own brush with death,
other events have occurred. A family friend lost her husband of 15 years in an accident leaving behind two beautiful girls; a colleague underwent a heart procedure, and a colony of bats invaded our local school. But I promised to chronicle my adventure in St. Louis and Texarkana, so with this entry I will lay the month to rest.

My sister (Paula) and I change plans in Chicago and are seated next to a handsome, young man on his way home to New York. We strike up a conversation and spend much of the flight exchanging thoughts on the situation in Haiti and other subjects suitable for stranger dialogue.

The turbulence tosses our small plane like a discarded wrapper; Paula closes her eyes and clutches the arm rests beside her. As we descend, the gentleman, whose name I never asked, pats her hand until we touch down. Meeting him, my faith in man is renewed.

It’s close to 11:45 p.m. when we reach St. Louis. We search for the Avis Rental desk and find that none of the rental agencies are open. Thus begins our wild goose chase. Sister and I aren’t afraid to stop and ask for directions. In fact, it’s a great way to meet new folks. So, we found a man in an official uniform of some sort and related our dilemma. “No problem,” he says. “Just take the stairs and then cross the street over there and behind that such-and-such you’ll see a telephone. Pick it up and ask for the Avis shuttle.”

Great, I think to myself…piece of cake. Well, the cake was not all that great. We lug our bags up the stairs, and cross the street in the freezing mist to the parking lot. We spot a telephone, but it looks just like any other pay phone which is obviously not the phone our helpful friend had in mind. I pick up the receiver in spite of this hoping I might hear a friendly voice on the receiving end.

Another trip back up the stairs and we end up where we began at the Avis desk. A couple of spins later on the airport merry-go-round, and we hustle a ride on a shuttle which takes us to an off-site Avis office. Mission accomplished. Have rental, will travel.

We arrive at my aunt’s home in Lake St. Louis well after midnight. Just like Motel 6, the porch light is on. Our cousins Leonard Ray, Chris, and Jeff greet us with hugs and kisses, and the smell of comfort food wafts in the air. For that one moment, little else matters. Life is a strange occasion my sister once told me. Nothing could be truer.

Adventure #2 - Life Happens Part One

2010-01-19T21:19:00.000-08:00

If you've never waited in the ICU waiting room for someone you love, it's not an experience you want to have. Thanks to my oldest son, this isn't my first rodeo,
but here I am writing this blog from the family room of Wadley Hospital in Texarkana. I'm not sure if the hospital is located on the Texas or Arkansas side although based on what I've seen come through here, I might be inclined to go with Arkansas.

Some of you are reading my midlife adventures, and you know that I have committed to following the road less traveled in 2010, but this is a detour I hadn't planned on taking. I never thought that I would fly to St. Louis, Missouri to bury my uncle and end up in Texarkana at my father's bedside thanking God for sparing his life. The whole experience has served as a poignant reminder of how fragile life can be and how important my family is to me.

I'll be posting this adventure in a few blogs. I don't want you to miss any part of it. This is how it begins...

My sister and I arrive at the airport and try to make the most of our time together despite the grave circumstances of Uncle Leonard's untimely death. After checking in, we hit Starbucks for a caffeine fix and buy some magazines and gum from one of the kiosks.

As we sit watching other passengers come and go, my sister pulls out a monstrous gallon baggie holding all sorts of makeup and toiletries. I ask, "What is that?" even though I know the answer before she has the chance to speak. (I specifically reminded her to pack according to airport security regulations before the trip) I tell her she is going to be cavity searched at which comment we both sort of laugh out loud. I promise to take pictures, and I know right then that it's going to be a trip to remember.

Sister needs a smoke before we pass through security, so I wait checking out the latest issue of Food and Wine while she walks outside for a quick puff. Once she returns, we head toward security. I don't dare ask what she did with the cigarette lighter.

I obviously overestimated the security at Houston Intercontinental Airport. We pass through the metal detectors and my sister's bag rolls unsuspected through the x-ray cameras. I am furious that her luxurious supply of makeup and lotions has made it past security when I sacrificed countless beauty essentials in my own packing. And to top that off, her cigarette lighter went through undetected as well. Now I understand how the latest terrorist attack was possible.

We board the plane, which is smaller than I expected. Our seats are located at the back and by the time we get there, most of the overhead storage is taken. I make several attempts to get my carry-on situated when the flight attendant approaches me and tells me I’ll have to check my bag.

Flashback to the movie “Meet the Parents” where Ben Stiller plays a character named Greg aka Gaylord Focker. It goes something like this:

I finally locate an empty spot for my luggage several seats up. It takes a few good shoves to get my bag into the cramped space, but in the end I'm successful and don't have to check my bag. The plane lifts off, and we're on our way. Next stop...Chicago for an hour layover and plane change.Look for part two of Adventure #2 - Life Happens!

Weather Woes...

2010-01-12T20:16:00.000-08:00

A fellow blogger commented on my Year of Adventures in Midlife project and wanted to know how I came up with the ideas.
Hmmm...I guess I didn't really have an official plan, which started me thinking about this week's upcoming escapade.

The original plan for this week was to take the hot air balloon ride over Houston, which was also last week's plan. Of course, the freezing temperatures and wind grounded me, and wouldn't you know it, the forecast this weekend is rain, rain, rain! Maybe that balloon just isn't going to fly!

I used to be a big planner. Everything had to fit inside my very small box of what life should be like. When I hit 40, I began to see the world from a different set of glasses. Things hadn't turned out like I thought they should, and so I began a journey of remembering who I was before life happened and re-inventing the way I lived it.

Now I'm not much of a planner. I sort of fly by the seat of my pants which has its advantages and disadvantages I suppose. I set some goals for myself, but I have decided to enjoy the ride along the way. And that is the way I have approached this year of adventures in midlife. We'll see how it goes.
John Lennon said it best - Life is what happens to us while we're too busy making other plans.

Looks like I might have to take the adventure indoors this time.

The Birthday Story

2010-01-11T15:29:00.000-08:00

It's officially here! My 45th birthday! I'm not like a lot of people who don't care to observe the passing of time, who cringe at the mention of another birthday.
January 11th is the one day of the year when it's all about me. It's a time to whoop and holler and have a little thrown down because honestly, growing a year older beats the alternative any way you look at it.

My Facebook page was filled with well wishes for the day. Students were eager to remind me how old I was, and colleagues gave me a beautiful card. My family gathered for pizza and Tuxedo cheesecake from The Chocolate Bar, but my day wouldn't have been complete without my special birthday story told by Dad.

He usually calls me early in the morning before I leave for school to relate the tale of my entrance into the world. But this year, he emailed. I found out later that he was on his way to the hospital with chest pains. Turns out he didn't want me to worry on my birthday.

There isn't anything particularly remarkable about the story of the day I was born, but I love to hear him tell it. The details change a bit from year to year as my dad grows older. This is part of the email he sent this morning:

Happy Birthday No.1 (This is a family joke between my sister and me! I am the oldest) Sure doesn't seem like 45 but numbers don't lie. I waited a long time for you at the hospital. There was no one there except your mother and maybe one or two more. Business picked up and they had me come and sit with your mother. I waited and waited and they had even given her another labor shot. We were over thirty hours at this point and I was running out of gas.

Now about this time Grandma Holmes (my maternal grandmother, a feisty little thing who liked to run the show ) shows up and she takes over telling what her doctor book says. She has the sheet covering your mother raised checking on dilation and explaining what it says in... you guessed it, "The doctors book". My mom and dad had arrived earlier and he had asked me if I had breakfast yet. No was my answer and he said let's go across the street to the diner. I then realized that I had not eaten since your mom arrived and was admitted to the hospital. We finished up, and I told Dad that I needed to get back. I said to him... Grandma Holmes might decide to do a C-Section. Well, when we returned, there you were in your mother's arms staring up at the ceiling. I am not sure who was the most worn out.

When he finishes, I always remind him that I was worth the wait, and that I'm sure my mother would have told the story from a slightly different perspective. He smiles, agrees, and I say a silent prayer that he'll be here next year to tell it again.

2010 Adventure #1 Psychic Reading

2010-01-08T19:35:00.000-08:00

Adventure #1 Tarot Card Reading

When I decided that my first adventure of 2010 would be a tarot card reading, my friends gave me that are-you-kidding look.
One colleague offered to pray for me, which I greatly appreciated, and two of my son's friends begged to go along for the ride. You can accuse me of having gone middle-aged crazy, but what's the harm in having as much fun and excitement as a girl can. It sure beats sitting around wondering where life will take you.

After I got the nerve to make the appointment with Leeanna the Psychic, I immediately called my sister. I wanted to find out if she thought our mother, God rest her soul, would come back and haunt me if I did this. Growing up, we were raised in a Christian home and as the granddaughters of a Southern Baptist minister, we were God-fearing children. Idols of any type were forbidden. I remember once we brought home a Ouija board. Needless to say, it was not well-received. I do remember finding the board in my mother's bottom dresser drawer some time later. The fact that she kept it instead of throwing it away always puzzled me.

So with three teenagers in tow and a $20 dollar bill in my pocket, we drove to Liberty, Texas, on Highway 90. Just as we arrived in town about one or two red lights down, I spotted a very small trailer with a yellow stenciled sign that read "Mystic Shadow Insight...Psychic Readings". I wasn't sure what I expected, but this certainly wasn't it.

I'll admit I was a little skeptical and apprehensive going into this adventure. I'm not sure why, but I didn't let that stop me. I put my best game face on and stepped onto the front porch deck cluttered with odds and ends like someone had moved and forgotten to take the rest of their stuff when they left. The glass door was slightly ajar, and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to knock or if she already knew it was me. So, I sort of half-knocked, half-opened the door and said, "hello."

I walked in and was surprised to see a rather plain woman in her thirties sitting cross-legged on a twin bed. Next to her sat a small table covered with a black cloth with gold sun designs. The room smelled of day-old cigarettes and the walls were covered with shelves on one side. There were books of magic and Merlin and wizard figurines scattered here and there, and jars of snake skins and an assortment of candles sat on the shelves. The most fascinating piece of decor, though, was the miniature broom mounted on the wall underneath a shelf with a black chalice.

I think I said a small prayer at that point and then sat down in the chair in front of her table. Leanna pulled out her deck of cards. There was nothing special at all about them. After we agreed upon the price of the reading, she fanned the cards onto the table in a semi-circle. There was some shuffling of cards of my part, stacking them up, and then she asked me to think on three questions I wanted answered while I moved my hand over the cards. If I felt a certain pull or magnetism on one particular card, I was to pull that card.

So, I moved my hand over the cards. I don't know if I felt anything magical or mystical, but I decided on a card and pulled it out. What happened after that is rather unbelievable. She layed out the cards in various positions and told me how each card related to an area of my life - in particular, one for which I had posed a question. And, she hit the mark.

Let me point out that I didn't do this because I really thought she could predict my future. In fact, she told me that the cards simply point to different aspect of a person's life to help them guide their decisions. It is up to the participant to interact with the cards.

In all, my first adventure of the new year was fascinating! If anything, Leeanna validated some notions I had. No one really knows what the future holds. One thing's for certain...I'll be writing about a new adventure each week. Stay tuned...

Dance Your @ss Off alternative to the Gym

2010-01-04T16:54:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here at Starbucks using the free Wi-Fi you get when you have a gift card and wiping off the crumbs from a delicious mega oatmeal raisin cookie. I've switched from the expensive designer coffee choices to just regular brew with lots of cream and about three packets of Splenda. It all tastes about the same - strong enough to grow hair on your chest.
And, I figure I could cut back on the 400 calories consumed when having a tall white chocolate mocha. But then again, the cookie and the amount of cream I use to cut the coffee probably adds up to about the same.

While checking my Facebook, I noticed a few friends posting their intentions to hit the gym after work to ease some of the day's stress. This must be where I've gone wrong. Instead of the gym, here I sit, kicked back, coffee in hand, and crumbs on my shirt. That's attractive. Good thing I'm not trying to impress anyone.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm approaching midlife that I'm not panicked about getting to the gym. It just doesn't seem that appealing anymore. I'm at the point in my life where what you see is what you get. Honestly, think about the choices here. Who in their right mind would choose to punish themselves by standing next to a man sweating all over the machine next to you and smelling like he needs a shower yesterday over relaxing in a cushy chair with soft jazz playing in the background and the aroma of cookie and pastry wafting in air. Seems like a no-brainer to me.

Then again, exercising more regularly would be good for me. I would definitely be healthier, and I might even feel a bit better. I need to build some stamina for the cross-country traveling, c/w dancing, and adventuring I plan to do in the future. And how could I forget about the fast-approaching swimsuit season when the racks at Target are donning those cute little bikinis.

So, what's a girl to do when she doesn't want to go to the gym? I've seen the answer on cable. Audition for a season on "Dance Your Ass Off". This is real, folks! It's an honest-to-goodness reality weight-loss show spoofing the ever-popular "Dancing with the Stars." It airs on the Oxygen channel, http://dyao.oxygen.com/ which I find amusing, since the dancers are gasping for breath after their performances while waiting for the judges' decisions.

In this case, the participants are "talented, full-figured" people who are paired with professional dancers and then train for weekly performances. I thought about auditioning - for one small second. I consider myself somewhat talented when it comes to dancing. I did spend about 30 years in tap shoes with a baton in my hand. And, I'm full-figured; perhaps not as full as some I've seen on the show. I would love to learn some new dance moves with a professional dancer, but I stop at the costumes. You won't catch this girl in metallic pink spandex.

Adventure, You Say?

2010-01-01T08:30:00.000-08:00

While the digital clock on my cell phone silently rolled over to midnight, the ricochet of a million Black Cats echoing throughout the neighborhood announced the birth of the new year! If you think about it, 2010 seems like some number out of a sci-fi movie title,
yet here we are welcoming in the first of 365 fantastic days. Many of us will be observing some kind of tradition whether it's making new year's resolutions or eating a big helping of cabbage and black-eyed peas.

For me, this is a particularly exciting and eventful year. I'll be celebrating my 45th birthday this month on the 11th, so what better way to honor midlife than to spend the entire year experiencing as many new "adventures" as possible! I'll be writing about those adventures each week in my blog and taking suggestions from readers along the way. I hope you'll follow me.

I guess I need to take this opportunity to define the parameters of "Adventure." When I posted a request for suggestions on Facebook last week, I received all sorts of daring and extreme ideas from learning to wakeboard to skydiving to being in the water with gators.

Let me explain a few things. You will never catch me jumping out of or off of anything higher than a few feet from the ground. No thank you, ma'am. I am certain I would die of a heart attack. A friend of mine recently shared his own "skydiving" experience, which just reinforced my desire to keep my feet on the ground. I have already tried water skiing on a couple of different boards; my conclusion: it is mother nature's answer to internal cleansing. I never knew water could find its way into so many different places! As for the gators, I've done that having lived and taught in the Alligator Capital of Texas.

So, you might be asking yourself...what kind of adventures is she hoping to have? I'm looking to find the adventure in everyday life. It might be something as simple as trying a different flavor of ice cream - other than the delicious, life-long favorite Dutch chocolate I've been buying - to riding in a hot-air balloon over the city of Houston ( a hint to my first adventure!) It could be taking a cooking class at Central Market to test driving that sassy 2010 Camaro I will probably never buy because I'm too practical. I might learn a new language other than English and French or stand in a water fountain in some European country. What matters is that I diverge from the road I always travel.

My year of adventure isn't a bucket list. I've been making a bucket list for some time now, and at the end of the year when I looked back at it, I did so with mixed reviews. I realized that one...I hadn't accomplished everything on the list, and two...I hadn't kicked the bucket. So, depending on how you view that, the outcome was confusing at best.

Don't get me wrong. I still have a list of goals and dreams. That is, after all, what keeps me going. But I've decided to claim my beloved Dr. Seuss' philosophy from one of his book titles, "Oh, the Places You'll Go," as a more desirable motto. So here's to you 2010! I welcome you and midlife with open arms, a smile on my face, and the wind at my feet.

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go.

You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care.
About some you will say, "I don't choose to go there."
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street.

And you may not find any
you'll want to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll head straight out of town.

It's opener there
in the wide open air.

Out there things can happen
and frequently do
to people as brainy
and footsy as you.

And when things start to happen,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just go right along.
You'll start happening too.

OH!
THE PLACES YOU'LL GO!

You'll be on your way up!
You'll be seeing great sights!
You'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

- Dr. Seuss

Mourning Love Letters

2009-12-28T20:30:00.000-08:00

It's no secret that letter writing has become a dying art if indeed it is not already buried and dead in the journals and pages of long ago authors and poets. I was reminded of this today when I spent the afternoon browsing the shelves of Barnes and Nobles and enjoying what will no doubt be my last peppermint mocha of the holiday season.

While waiting for a friend, I surveyed the recent "Books Made into Movies" shelf and found a rather thin paperback entitled, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne. So, I picked it up and headed to the coffee shop where I got lucky and found a cushy armchair unoccupied and waiting just for me.

In case you're wondering, I'm no stranger to Keats. I own a copy of his collection of greatest works - a title that belonged to my mother who was an aspiring poet herself. Several years after her death, I was looking through the book and found some original work in her own handwriting. It was an ode reminiscent of Keats and written about Exxon where she worked for many years.

But I digress. Even though I'm familiar with John and his works, having studied most of them in school, I wasn't as familiar with his personal life and tragic end. Keats was no stranger to death and suffering. He lost his parents, his brother, and in the end, he too succumbed to consumption. I personally think he died as much from a heavy heart over his love Fanny Brawne as anything else, but that's simply my opinion.

As I looked through his correspondence to Fanny, I was overwhelmed by the language of love. His letters weren't composed quickly or without thought; these were written with the greatest care. I thought back to the love letters I've received, and I have had a few in my time. The most memorable ones were written by a foolishly-in-love teenager who unfortunately lost his talent for expressing those feelings.

Perhaps it's time to reconsider bringing back my teaching unit on letter writing. Maybe it is the hopeless romantic in me, but in this world where blogs and texts, IMs, and emoticons rule, I think we could all take a cue from Keats and spend a bit more time expressing our feelings in proper English language.

I've chosen an excerpt from my favorite of Keats' letters. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

July 8th, 1819

July 8^th
My sweet girl,
Your Letter gave me more delight, than any thing in the world but yourself could do; indeed I am almost astonished that any absent one should have that luxurious power over my senses which I feel. Even when I am not thinking of you I receive your influence and a tenderer nature steeling upon me. All my thoughts, my unhappiest days and nights have I find not at all cured me of my love of Beauty, but made it so intense that I am miserable that you are not with me:

Tales of a Shopping Cart

2009-12-25T22:26:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this blog on the back of my dental receipt from this morning's root canal while standing in line at Walmart. I know...what was I thinking when I pulled into the more-crowded-than-usual parking lot. Probably the same thing I was thinking when I drove into the lot of the dentist office this morning - RUN for your life.
But, I didn't in either case.

I told myself I only had a couple of items to pick up. Two roasted chickens, some white corn, and a package of great northern beans for my Christmas Eve white girl, white chicken chili. When I tell you that the pickins were slim in the store, I'm not kidding. The shelves on some aisles were bare, and for a fleeting moment I felt as though a natural disaster was imminent and people were stock piling supplies. So much for finding a can of chicken broth.

I'm standing here looking into my basket and surveying exactly what I was able to find and trying to decide if a trip to my local nifty Thriftee grocery store will be necessary. Coconut for the traditional Hello Dollys, but I still need a package of graham cracker crumbs to finish off the ingredients. What started out as a small list seems to have grown a bit. How did those vanilla creme puffs and mini chocolate eclairs get in there? Besides the white chicken chili, I'll be making some snacks, so I include a bag of pretzels and package of Rolos candies. I was introduced to these delicious chocolately, yet salty treats by a student who brought me a package of the homemade goodies as a Christmas gift. Thanks, David.

I'm still standing in line - a surprise, right? So, I browse the magazines on the rack and people watch. I do a quick self-check to make sure I'm not a candidate for the famous "People of Walmart" photo emails we have all received. Other than a lack of makeup, I think I'm in the clear.I recognize a few people which isn't surprising since I'm in the hub of the greater Baytown area. One young man who is a former student from seventh grade English class greets me. He's about thirty-five now and is last-minute shopping with his family. Even after more than a decade or so, he still has the same familiar smile.

The longer I stand here in line, the more I realize that my tooth is beginning to throb a bit. I tap on it to reassure myself that it is indeed nerve and pain free, but it is still sensitive. Not to worry. I've got most of my prescription left from the last tooth incident. And, if that doesn't work, I'm certain an extra jigger of hooch in the egg nog will do the trick. This will probably be my last blog before Christmas. So let me take this opportunity to wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Here is the recipe for the chocolate pretzel Rolo treats:
1 package of pretzels (small size pretzels)
1 large package of loose Rolo chocolate covered caramel candies
1 package of pecan halves
Place parchment paper on a cookie sheet; lay out as many pretzels as you have Rolos. Unwrap Rolo candies and place one in the center of the pretzel. Place in a preheated 200 degree oven until the Rolo is melted (about five minutes). The shape won't melt down in appearance, so you will need to test the candy. Remove from oven and place one pecan half onto each chocolate. Place cookie sheet in fridge until the chocolate candy sets. Remove and package or serve.

Sexy, free dates?

2009-07-19T21:40:00.000-07:00

I’ve been shamelessly lounging around the pool this summer, relaxing, tanning, and reading each and every page of Cosmo. When I got “The Hot Issue”, I couldn’t wait to dig in
and find out just exactly which 125 moves guys had rated as tops.

After all, the magazine boasted these techniques as ones to send guys right over the edge. But before I made it to that section, I was distracted by an article on 12 SEXY, TOTALLY FREE DATES. Hmmm…sounded interesting. So, I took a sip of my frozen drink and had a look.

The writer of the piece claimed the ideas were “fun, romantic, and creative.” Let me share some of them and let you be the judge. The first idea was an alternative to going out for dinner and having to spend a ton of money on your meal. The suggestion was to head to a grocery store that offers samples. I don’t know about you, but the pea-sized samples from the grocery stores I’ve been to, including Central Market, would not count as dinner.

Too bad if you get thirsty with that delicious meal; you’ll have to wait until you hit the wine shop down the road offering free tastings. I wonder what they would pair with sausage on a toothpick. And the best part was her idea on dessert. No worries here. Just drop in your local ice cream parlor and ask for samples for a bunch of flavors. I guess she hasn’t seen the miniscule spoons they use. Honestly, I don’t see anything fun about running around town eating free samples because you can’t afford to pay for dinner.

Here’s one for football fans. The author claims there isn’t any need to shell out a lot of cash to watch a game during regular season. Forget the guy with the season tickets to the Cowboys at their new stadium. Go for the guy who will take you to the free pre-season games. She says you can “make-out in the stands…” Now I know that this chick isn’t from Texas. No girl in her right mind expects to make out with her man at a game. In the parking lot after - maybe, if his team wins.

Her other ideas ranged from ridiculous to down-right hilarious. This one has to be my favorite. What is the ultimate free, sexy date? Why sex, of course. But…it gets better. The author goes so far as to suggest a way to get out of paying for condoms. She obviously doesn’t realize that the cost of protection can save you millions of dollars in child-rearing expenses later down the road. No kidding. You can sign up for free condoms, lube, and they will even throw in a vibrating ring! Check out www.jollyjohns.com

The article ends with a little blurb that reads: “No Money? No Problem.” Apparently, studies show that experiences rather than possessions result in longer-lasting happiness. I couldn’t agree more. I recently had the most awesome experience at a five-star resort complete with three-course meals. And the best part...dessert wasn't served up on a spoon.