Never use marshmellow cream as a substitute for marshmellows. There is a distinct difference in how the rice crispy treats turn out. The end result is rather disappointing.
I fancy myself a baker, but I have to wonder what kind of a real baker has marshmellow cream AND actually admits to having it!
This was the view from my back door this morning:
I’m all for a good snow shower in, say, JANUARY. I enjoy one or two snow falls per year; and I only enjoy them until the snow gets dirty, the cocoa runs out, or we lose a glove. Digging out the snow pants was not part of my plan this morning. Playing in the snow provides me with serious job security though. I am amazed by how many pairs of socks, gloves, and pants that need to be washed after playing in the white stuff.
A few years ago, my mother-in-law dug up one of her peonies and gave it to me. I have carefully moved it from house to house. It has NEVER bloomed for me. So, when we moved from The City to Mayberry, I left it behind. Our new yard has at least 5. They all have buds on them. Do you think they will actually bloom after all this cold? I think I am doomed to flower-less peonies…
Oh, sweet camellia, will you ever be the same? Thank you for your valiant effort.
As an Oregonian, I fully expect rain until July 5th; but snow after spring break….not so much.
I was met with, ‘Hi! I’m Belinda!’
This perky clipboard carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, ‘All I need you to do is step into this room right here, strip to the waist, then slip on this gown. Slit in the front. Everything clear?’
Belinda skipped away to prepare the chamber of horrors. Call me crazy, but I suspect a man invented this machine. It takes a perfectly healthy size 36-B and stretches it into a 38-LONG in less than 60 seconds.
With the right side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the left and said, ‘Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?’
I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck and finish me off? My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with my other boob wedged between those two 4” pieces of square glass) when we heard, then felt a zap!
Complete darkness.
The power went out!
‘What?’ I yelled.
‘Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag.’ Belinda headed for the door.
‘Excuse me! You’re not leaving me in this vise alone, are you?’ I shouted.
Belinda kept going and said, ‘Oh, you fussy puppy. The door’s wide open so you’ll have the emergency hall lights. I’ll be right back.’
Before I could shout ‘NOOOO!’ she disappeared.
And that’s when I met Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire.
After exchanging a polite greeting, Bubba (or possibly Earl ) asked, to my utter disbelief, if I knew the power was out.
Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as possible ‘Uh, yes, yes I do thanks’
‘You bet, take care’ Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though I’d been standing in the line at the grocery store.
TWO HOURS later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making no attempt to suppress her amusement.
‘Oh I am soooo sorry! The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?’
And that, Your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps…
I hate forwards. I usually just delete the entire email if there is a forward attached in any way. For some reason, when I received this tale I read it and laughed and kept thinking about it. In all honesty, I can’t believe something like this did not actually happen to me when I went in last month for my first mammogram. Now, make sure you keep your appointment. Detection is your best defense!
If you drove through “down town” yesterday, I was the woman sitting on the side of the road with two little boys who indeed look a lot alike. We make for a great audience when repair men come to town. We especially like when they use heavy equipment. Bigweld is certain he saw a grapple. I’m certain he did not.
If you were at the park today, I was the woman hoping to be knocked unconscious by the 7 year old on the swing. Mid-conversation, the mom next to me just up and left. I think I might have violated some unwritten rule. Apparently, I was supposed to be all happy and stuff. I apologized as we left. I don’t think she could empathize. She MUST have a nanny.
If you were at the dinner table tonight, I was the one wearing dinner. We were having “straw noodles” and the boys were blowing through them. Herbie got a bit carried away, and I ended up with pasta and white sauce all over my glasses and face. And then…I snort laughed…
If you are at my house tomorrow evening, I will be the one executing my escape plan as The Pilot unpacks his suitcase. I have no plans for a quick return, but then again I don’t know how to make plans that don’t include two little boys and their big sister, so leave the back door unlocked. I’ll try not to be the one who wakes up the cat.
As I’ve mentioned, we live in Small Town, America. This week I learned that Small Town, America is not quite far enough from The Middle of No Where, America. We are close enough to the country that deer roam our streets, eat my tulips, and leave droppings ALL OVER MY YARD. Have I mentioned that I love a well manicured yard? Deer do-do does not enhance my yard. Also, the field mice are not staying in the field or the pasture or the barn. They are in my detached garage. Shhhh….Don’t tell my youngest sister, she might not ever visit again.
04/04/08 12:11pm
P.S. The bottle of deer-be-gone left behind by the previous owners should have been a hint. Apparently, I need more than a hint.
Me: How is that for a snack?
Herbie: It tastes like a lawn mower.
Me: Really?
Herbie: Yupp.
