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We had a great weekend in Kentucky. I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful the Jim Bean factory tour was. hiccup… Look at the bottles of bourbon painted on the side of the horse. Who would have thought a horse could stand still long enough to be body painted. A very patient horse indeed. They are very hospitable at the Jim Beam factory and museum. We sampled bourbon chocolates, bourbon coffee and two types of bourbon. Although we both liked Knob Creek we both agreed that Bookers had one hell of a kick even though it went down smooth. And the view at the Jim Beam factory is fabulous. Old Jim (below) must have agreed because apparently he has sat in the same spot enjoying the view for more than fifty years. Even his dog hasn’t moved a muscle. Odd, eh?


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After our Jim Bean tour Saturday we went on a two hour train ride. The train ride ended in some small Kentucky town where the only attraction was two port-a-potties and a small country store that only sold snacks and pop. We were given a twenty-minute rest before the train headed back to Bardstown. Most of the passengers got off the train to get a soda or a bag of cheetoes from the little store. The hubster and I stayed onboard. We had plenty of entertainment though. There were two young lads in their early teens on small dirt bikes, trying to impress the young ladies on the train. One of these lads wasn’t very adept at dirt bike riding and ended up falling off the back of his mini dirt bike and skidding across the street with his body. He tried to be brave but I think I saw a few tears well up in his eyes. He picked up his bike and pushed it home, while blood dripped from his skinned elbows and knees. I think his pride hurt worse than his elbows and knees.


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After we checked out of our hotel Sunday morning we stopped at Denny’s for a grand-slam breakfast. While we are waiting for our order to be served the hostess seated a family in the booth behind us. It was a soldier who looked like he had just graduated boot camp, and his mom and dad. It made me think of my daughter and her soldier husband, who had also graduated boot camp in Kentucky two years ago. It made me sad because my son in law is in Iraq right now. I was okay until the waitress brought their drinks to them. She brought the parents coffee and the solider a large glass of orange juice. He obviously wasn’t hardened enough to be a coffee drinker yet. Give him a couple of months in the Army and that will change. I can’t adequately put into words what I was feeling, but tears started to spill down my cheeks. When the waitress brought refills on our coffee I asked her to put the soldiers breakfast on our bill, but not to tell him until after we had left. She looked at me a little odd but she did it. I just wanted to show him some small gesture of appreciation for the sacrifices he was about to make and I didn’t want his thanks for it. He was the one I should be thanking. In fact, I propose that we all do something similar the next time we see a soldier. If you are in McDonalds buying your kid a happy meal tell the girl behind the counter to add the soldiers meal to your bill. Or if you see a solider in Starbucks walk up to him and tell him you would like to buy his coffee for him (add a muffin too). It’s just a little gesture we can all do to let them know we truly do appreciate the sacrifices he and his family are making so we can live in a free society.


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After breakfast we hit the road again. First we stopped at Fort Knox. They have a very nice museum there. I wanted to get a souvenir thimble there but they were crappy. It just said Fort Knox on it. No picture of anything. Just some plain words. Come on, give me a tank or something. So sadly I must admit I wasn’t able to obtain a thimble in all of Kentucky to commemorate our weekend. That’s sort of a bad sign isn’t it? Well maybe not, it just means less to dust. There was an interesting sign in the parking lot at Fort Knox. Click on the image to enlarge if you aren’t able to read it. Moral of the story is don’t lag behind after they close or you will be stuck in the parking lot for a very long time.


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After leaving Fort Knox we headed into Louisville where we found the Louisville slugger factory and museum. For the low price of $9 you too can see how the world’s most famous bats are made. And at the end of the tour they give you a miniature bat to take home and keep for your very own! As the hubster and I walked the two blocks to where our car was parked we tapped each other unmercifully on the butt with our bats. We were so naughty in fact that we had to take our bats away from ourselves and hide them in the back of the SUV where we wouldn’t have access to them on the drive home. We just can’t be trusted.

All in all it was a nice weekend jaunt though. Even though Kentucky wasn’t my choice of destination I am glad we went and wouldn’t mind going back again sometime. Don’t tell the hubster I said that though. It’s never good to let them know they are right.

Oops, Daisy is upset. Yes, I am pissed once more. Seems to be the common state of my life the last couple of days. It all started when I was on Sam’s blog a couple of days ago. She mentioned a site called Bookmooch where you list the books you have that you don’t want any more and you mooch other people’s books that you do want. It’s rather addicting. I posted 25 books that I didn’t want anymore, some of them really good books. Then I posted my wish list of books that I would live to receive. When a book on my wish list becomes available I receive an email stating that the book is now available and I can have it if I click on this link. I have been dying to read The Time Travelers Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I received an email on Thursday stating it was now available. I was overjoyed! I happily click on the link and it says someone has already snagged the book. Yes, the book is gone. I am too slow of a clicker. I was so sad. I tried to be a fast clicker, but to no avail. Since Thursday that book has become available 4 more times and each time someone has snagged it before me. I have clicked as soon as 15 minutes after the book was posted but always someone else gets it before me. It’s really depressing me in addition to pissing me off.

Therefore, if any of you join Bookmooch and happen to have The Time Travelers Wife, please refuse to send it to anyone but me. Save it for daisy8972 okay?!

In other news, our day in Kentucky has been fun. We did a tour of the Jim Beam bourbon distillery and went on a 2 hour train ride. I will go into more detail when I get home and can upload my pictures. Silly me left the camera cable at home so I can’t download any pictures from my digital camera.

For now though, I need to find a shop that sells souvenirs so I can get a Kentucky thimble. I collect thimbles from where ever we travel to. with the kind of luck I am having lately the only thimbles they have left in Kentucky will say "Malta" on them or something. Greetings from Malta!

Last night as I was getting ready to post yesterday’s post stabbing pains suddenly shot through my abdomen. It was so sudden and so sharp that it took my breath away. Even though I was still sitting at the computer I bent over clutching my abdomen. The pain was so severe that after 10 minutes of the relentless stabbing hot fiery pain, I asked the hubster to take me to the emergency room. I have to be one hell of a lot of pain to go to that hell-hole we call the ER. There I am doubled over in pain, moaning, tears streaming down my face and even though there were no other patients in the ER it took the doctor 20 minutes to see me. When he does he tries to argue with me about pancreatitis facts. He poked the spot where my pancreas is and I about went through the roof. He gave me a disapproving look and told me right to my face that there was no way that hurt. He treated me like I was a drug seeker and told me to cut the theatrics because pancreatitis isn’t as painful as I was making it out to be. Hello idiot, I have chronic pancreatitis and I know more about pancreatitis then you will ever know in your miserable lifetime jerk! So now I was in pain and pissed! I begged him to call my family doctor and my pancreas specialist (the great Dr. Glen Lehman). Meanwhile he gave me something for the pain. He gave me a frigging extra strength Tylenol! Seriously, he did. I couldn’t believe it. As for the vomiting I was doing? The doctor didn’t order anything for that. They didn’t even give me a puke container. The hubster had to find one in the room for me. Fortunately I had some pretty strong pain meds in my purse so when I realized he wasn’t going to treat me properly I took one of the strongest pain meds I have. And I had the hubster look around the room until he found some hot packs to lay on my abdomen. A couple of hours later El-Retardo, MD came back in. He had obviously looked through my extensive records by that point or talked to one of my doctors because his whole tone had changed. He stopped treating me like a faking drug seeker. He didn’t give me anything stronger for the pain, but he finally believed I was in a pancreatitis attack. He asked me what I needed to be done. I said just let me go home. By that point I was so done with that place and those stupid people. They are the exact reason that people with chronic disabling conditions don’t go to the hospital for treatment.

So today I made an appointment with my family doctor for next week so I can discuss the situation with him and obtain a letter of treatment that I can take to the ER with me should I ever go again (which is doubtful). I am also getting a similar letter from Dr Lehman, my pancreas specialist. It’s a damned shame when the patient knows more than the doctor, especially when it is an emergency situation.

And now I have to finish packing. We are hitting the road to go to Kentucky in an hour. Even though we have had only 3 hours of sleep we are getting the hell out of Dodge for the weekend.

Happy trails!

On Tuesday night I received a call from my granddaughter, Jas. “Gwanma” she said, “I get out of school tomorrow at 10:50. Will you pick me up?” What’s a Gwanma to say, “of course I’ll pick you up” I replied. Being a naïve Gwanma I mistakenly thought that only her school had a half day on Wednesday. After lunch at Arby’s (Jas’s choice) we went to a movie. I knew that Jas had seen “Are we done yet” the week prior so I suggested we see “Firehouse Dog”. No, she wanted to see “Are we done yet” again. I tried to reason with her, as best you can with a six year old but she was firm. Finally I struck a deal. There was a 30 minute time difference between movies. So we would go to “Firehouse Dog” and thirty minutes into the movie, when “Are we done yet” was to start, we would go see it IF she still wanted to change movies. My thought process was that after seeing 30 minutes of Firehouse Dog, she would be so into the storyline that she wouldn’t want to change movies. Boy was I wrong. First off every school in the entire Midwest must have had the afternoon off because Firehouse Dog was so packed that some people had to sit on the floor. Yes, they sat on the actual floor because all of the seats were taken. I have never seen a theater that packed before. Firehouse Dog wasn’t as good as I thought it was going to be. In fact it was (dare I say) DULL! So 20 minutes into it I asked Jas if she wanted to stay and watch it or change theaters. She was happy to change theaters to see the movie she wanted to see in the first place. As soon as we stood up several people rushed our seats to snag them. I thought a fight was going to break out.

The theater that “Are we done yet” was playing in was packed, but not as packed as “Firehouse Dog” so we were able to get a good seat without a problem. And I have to admit, it was a funny movie. Jas was right about it. I should listen to her more often. All in all it was a good afternoon. After we got home we crafted giraffe’s out of colored clays. Then Jas played a few computer games. I have to say she wore me out though. I’ve spent all day today recovering. Sometimes it amazes me that I was able to raise 3 kids. Of course that was in my much younger days, back when I had energy. Now that I am …ahem…29…I don’t have as much energy. Wow, I must be the youngest Gwanma ever at 29, eh? It helps to count backwards after 36.

Tomorrow the hubster and I are off on a mini trip. Our 13th wedding anniversary is this coming Tuesday so we are going away for the weekend to celebrate. We are going to Louisville Kentucky. The problem is the Kentucky Derby is a week or so away so people have started to arrive already for the pre-derby parties and such. Therefore there is not one room to be had in Louisville. Hard to believe, eh? Can you imagine how bloody crowded that town must be right now? I shudder to think. And me with a crowd phobia. Egad! Anyway, the closest hotel room we were able to get was 45 minutes south of Louisville in Elizabethtown Kentucky. Now that I’ve said all that, this would be a good time to tell you how I wasn’t consulted on the trip nor the choice of destination. The hubster merely told me a couple of days ago that we were going away for the weekend and where. I may be smiling on the outside but I am one mad wet hen on the inside. I really don’t have much desire to go to Kentucky. There are so many other places, in driving distance, that I would like to go to. But no, I wasn’t consulted. Sometimes I wonder if he wouldn’t be better being married to himself. Are all men like this or is he the exception?

I’m taking the camera so I’ll be sure to take tons of pictures. If you look closely in the pictures I’ll be the one with the pissed off look on her face. And speaking of pissed off, remember my search for the elusive Lemon icebox pie from the hubster’s childhood and how I have been trying in vain to create the very pie that his grandmother used to make for him? Four pies later I still haven’t managed to make one like grandma. Last night he is talking to his mother on the phone and he happens to mention all the lemon pies I have made in the last 3 days. Guess what she has? The grandmothers exact recipe for the all mighty lemon icebox pie. Then he says “Oh yeah Mom, I thought you had the recipe”. WTF? If he thought she had that recipe, why was I searching all over the internet for it, squeezing lemon after lemon. I felt like dumping all four of those pies right over the hubster’s head! And I would have if I hadn’t thrown most of them in the garbage. Men! (Shaking my head and rolling my eyes).

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It all started off with the hubster lamenting about the insanely delicious lemon icebox pie his grandmother used to make. Being delusional and not of sound mind, I decided I would make him a lemon icebox pie just like his grandma’s. Did you know there are several ways you can make a lemon icebox pie? You can use a vanilla wafer crust or a graham cracker crust. You can use raw egg yolks with lemon and condensed milk, or you can go the route of cream cheese, lemon juice and whipping cream. You can bake it or you can cook it on the stove, or even try the no bake/no cook kind. You can top it with whipped cream, meringue or just serve it plain on top. In summary, there are too many different lemon ice box pie recipes and not a damn one of them is any good. So if you have a good lemon icebox pie recipe that tastes just like grandma used to make, please send it to me.

And the hubster was absolutely no help whatsoever. For someone who had been dreaming about this pie for years, he really had no clue as to what he had been dreaming about. I asked him if it was in a pie shape or square. He didn’t remember. Baked or more like a cool whip fluffy thing? He didn’t remember. Meringue or whipped cream on top? He didn’t remember. The only thing he remembered was that he liked it as a kid and wanted one.


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After a shopping trip to the grocery last night after dinner, I stood in the kitchen separating egg yolks, whipping them with sweetened condensed milk, squeezing numerous lemons, crushing vanilla wafers, etc. An hour later my oven timer went off and I pulled the masterpiece out of the oven. I almost burst in tears. It was so ugly that I immediately dumped the entire pie in the garbage without even thinking to take a picture. I was too embarrassed to take a picture of the burnt curdled gray slop anyway. So this morning it was back to the grocery for more lemons and more condensed milk. I got smart this time though and bought a pre-made graham cracker crust. I once again stood in the kitchen squeezing lemons and separating egg yolks. This time instead of baking it I cooked it on the stove top. It looks okay I suppose but I’m not sure it is what he was remembering. The next step is to try the cream cheese recipe. I am a stubborn woman and I refuse to give up until I find a bloody lemon icebox pie recipe that tastes like the one his grandma used to make. Hell hath no fury like a woman looking for a lemon icebox pie recipe!

I should call this post “Adventures with the self proclaimed faith healer neighbor”. Yes, I went to lunch with the self proclaimed faith healer neighbor today. And yes, we went to another Chinese barfette. Her goal in life is to try each and every Chinese buffet in Indianapolis at least once. I would say she has a pretty good start. And I must be a glutton for punishment because today I went with her. The shame of it.

Over lunch we were discussing the two young men that moved into the house across the street from me (and next to her). We are both concerned that they will be having numerous loud parties this summer (and they probably will). She told me that she thinks God put them in that house so she could save their souls. Funny, but I thought it was Jesus that saved souls, not fake faith healers.

Her husband has not worked since last September so just this last weekend he sold his work van. He is an out of work self employed carpenter. Now that he has sold his work van I wonder what he will do should he be fortunate enough to finally obtain work? This is a classic case of not thinking before you act. It’s okay though because he got much more for the van than it was worth. He got $100 for it. Maybe he can buy a bike at Goodwill with the money and strap his toolbox on the back. He could save on gas that way too by just pedaling from construction site to construction site.

Upon arriving back to our street she invited herself over, as she normally does when we go out to lunch. I have to say I absolutely hate it when she does that. Nonetheless, there I was, stuck with her for the afternoon. She happened to notice the picture I have as my wallpaper on my computer. (The starfish picture above). She asked me to print a copy out for her. No problem, I was happy to. I immediately printed out a copy for her on regular printer paper. As she clutched the picture to her chest in happiness she stated she was going to go to the Dollar Store and get a picture frame so she could frame it and hang it in her bathroom. Had I known she was going to frame it I might have printed it out on photo paper. Well…maybe not.

Did I tell you she thinks I am rich? Boy is she ever wrong. She thinks that because the hubster is an assistant manager and we have two cars and go on frequent vacations, we are rich. Not rich, just hard working, something she and her husband need to aspire to if you ask me. So she comes over this evening to tell me about her daughter’s birthday party this Thursday. It seems that she and her daughter were talking at dinner and her daughter wanted her to invite me to her birthday party because the daughter put it “She’s got a lot of money so I know Daisy will really get me something nice”. It’s one thing to say that in the privacy of your own home but quite another to tell something like that to the person you are hoping to mooch a present from. And the faith healer thought it was the cutest thing her daughter had ever said. Well they can both bark up another tree because this rich gal has had enough of being mooched off of by them.

Tomorrow I’ll post pictures of my lemon icebox pie experiment I tried tonight. I am too upset to do it tonight. All that time, all that work…dear God the humanity!

Yesterday I went to my usual salon and had my favorite stylist cut my hair. She wasn’t having a very good day because midway through the cut she snipped more than she bargained for. She cut her finger with her scissors. After she took a five minute break to bandage her finger and smoke a cigarette to help ease the pain she returned to finish the job. She made sure to caution me however that I should probably wash my hair when I got home because there were a few streaks of blood in it. I shudder to think of the sanitary implications of someone else’s blood in my hair. I did shower and wash my hair when I got home though. Not only because of the blood, but also because I get the creepy crawlies after a haircut and image little snips of hair all over my body. I scratch like a maniac on the way home from the salon each and every time. So that brought my number of showers to two yesterday since I always shower immediately upon crawling out of bed each morning. Yes, I was one clean bitch yesterday.

After my hair dried following my second shower I noticed that my hair was uneven and one side was shorter than the other. Not good. So back to the salon this morning. The one who did the deed yesterday was not there today. Probably had to call in sick to rest her injured finger I am thinking. I explain my problem to the stylist that was there and she was kind enough to fix my hair for me. But she cut my hair when it was dry so I had little snippies all over the back of my neck and down the back of my shirt. The horror! I sped home and jumped in the shower, a mere hour after I had my last shower. Four showers in the last twenty-six hours would definitely qualify me for the cleanest woman in Indiana if not the entire Midwest.

My mail carrier is afraid to knock on our door because of our dog. He thinks that because our dog weighs 70 pounds and barks when someone knocks on the door, he obviously is dangerous and looking for some mailman butt to bite. Our dog is the biggest whimp there is. He is even afraid of cats and rabbits. We tried telling this to our mailman but he refuses to believe us and always has his can of mace in hand and at the ready when ever he comes to the door to leave a package. We don’t have to worry about our mailman ever coming to the door again now that I have put our new welcome mat out. Once he sees that mat he will jump back in his little mail truck and squeal tires. Not good for our mail delivery but the entertainment value is priceless.

Yesterday I picked Jas up from school to spend a couple of hours with her. I was standing near the doorway of the school when she spied me as she was walking through the corridor to the front door. “Gwanma” she screamed as she ran towards me at full speed. When she reached me she gave me a huge pint sized hug. Teachers turned to look and smiled. Both Jas and I had big smiles on our faces. There is nothing so comforting as unconditional love. Once in the car, she asked me if her mom told me to pick her up from school. I replied no, and explained that I had called her mom asking if I could have the pleasure of picking Jas up from school and spending the afternoon with her. Her smile grew wider upon hearing that. It’s one thing to spend time with your Gwanma, but totally another to have your Gwanma actively seek spending time with you.

We began our afternoon by going to the shoe store. Auntie Brooke would have been proud. Jas is like her Auntie Brooke and is a shoe-a-holic. I’ve never had that disease myself…until the last year or so. Now I can’t help myself. Seriously, I have no self control when it comes to shoes. In fact I bought not one but TWO pairs of new shoes. I think this brings my shoe collection to approximately 25 pairs. My shoe collection is beginning to rival my handbag collection. Addictions are…addicting. Damn you shoe addiction…damn you!

When we got home Jas wanted to write a book. How wonderful to have the innocence to believe you can sit down and write a book in an afternoon. I wish I were six years old again. Well, maybe not. Anyway, we did sit down together and she did write a little story and added pictures to it as well. It was a cute story about a girl who wished for a horse. I need to clean it up a bit, but when I do I’ll publish it on my blog so ya’ll can see what an awesome creative imagination Jas had. She gets it from her Gwanma Daisy.

Overheard in the grocery store this morning;

Mommy: (sigh) “We’d better get some more ketchup. Your brother go through that stuff like it is going out of style.”

Young Daughter: “It’s the only vegetable he eats.”

Mommy: (Giving her daughter the evil-mommy-eye as the young girl stuffs her hand in a box of teddy grahams. “At least he eats a vegetable.”

I took a break yesterday afternoon and sat in front of the TV for a few minutes. Something I rarely do in the daytime. I saw the coverage of the shootings in Virginia and was dismayed. What a horrible, cruel thing. My ex husband lives near the Washington/Baltimore corridor and every time I hear about a shooting like that I wonder if he did it. One of these days I know I am going to hear a news report and he will be the gunman. It’s a sad thing to live your life in fear. And as much as I miss the ocean there is no way I will ever move back to Maryland and he is the reason. I wish a gunman would shoot him down. It’s only the good people that get killed in senseless violent acts though. Evil seems to live forever. It’s not a very just world that we live in sometimes.

How would you like to live across the street from Jack Black? You know that crazy gleam in his eye that promises mischief and mayhem will soon follow? Wouldn’t that scare you if he was your neighbor? Well I am scared, because Jack Black moved into the house across the street Saturday.

I am ready to kill that landlord. We bought our house eleven years ago. In that eleven years we have seen many people come and go in the house across the street. It is the only rental house on our street. There seems to be a theme of good tenant, then a bad tenant, then a good tenant, etc that goes on with that landlords rental policies. The last neighbors were good tenants so we have been geared for bad tenants to move it. When we looked out the window Saturday morning and saw the two young men moving in mountains of stereo equipment we knew we were screwed. Damn that landlord!

The two guys that moved in are smart though, very smart. They came over yesterday afternoon and introduced themselves. By the time they left I was feeling so charitable towards them that I wanted to bake them a cake or some shit like that. Sneaky on their part, very sneaky to make me like them. They stayed for close to an hour chatting. The one that looks like Jack Black (an identical twin I tell you!) showed me his various scars such as the scar on his shoulder where he had a metal plate put in after his shoulder was crushed in a car accident. Both boys showed me pictures of their babies. The tall dude has a seventeen month old son and the short, chunky Jack Black looking dude has an eight month old son and apparently a seven year old daughter that lives in Michigan. I say that about the daughter because he wasn’t going to tell me about her, but amid nudging and winks his roommate briefly mentioned her but Jack Black told me that he doesn’t see her because of a certain evil witch. Hmmm…. The plot thickens.

I decided to lay a little ground work and let them know the sort of behavior we wanted in a neighbor, and I put all the blame on the self proclaimed faith healer. I asked if they had met her. They had not. I briefly explained that she fancies herself to be a faith healer and her husband a prophet. I warned them that she has often made the statement that if she sees you outside you are fair game to be prayed over. I saw a hint of fear in Jack Blacks eyes presumably as he thought about his many scars that needed healing. Then I told the fib. Well, maybe it wasn’t too much of a fib because it did happen…once. I told them to beware of having any parties because the faith healer would call the cops on them at the lightest sound. Then I fibbed again and lumped myself in with the unfortunate party hosts and said we had all felt the sting of her penchant for calling the cops on parties. I hope I put the fear of God in them, or at least the fear of the faith healer.

I spent a great deal of the day yesterday, researching my romance novel, and the rules of actually writing a romance novel. Apparently my sex scene with the neighbor is a huge no-no since the heroine doesn’t actually end up with the neighbor in the end. I found a way around that though. Two words – ‘Dream Sequence’!!!! Perfect, right? My brilliance astounds me at times.

My problem now is the hero’s profession. I have him as the owner of a Real Estate Agency and that too is apparently a no-no. According to my research yesterday, there are certain ‘sexy’ professions that your hero can have and Real Estate agent is not one of them. Sorry, no disrespect meant to any real estate agents, I am sure you are all sexy in your own way. And the shame of it is I have written five chapters in which his profession as a real Estate Agent is prime. My bad. How was I to know he was in a ‘unsexy’ profession? The acceptable ‘sexy’ professions a hero can have are the following;

Cowboys
Law Enforcement
Firefighters
Doctors, Paramedics
Spies, Secret Agents
Military, Special Forces
Pirates (I run into those all the time)
Astronauts
Pilots
Bounty Hunters (Dog is sexy???)
Fortune Hunters
Bodyguards (well Kevin Costner WAS sexy in the movie of the same name)

So now I am racking my brain trying to determine just exactly what profession Mr. ‘Hot Bod’ Sommer’s is in. It has a to be profession where the heroine can the inept new employee who gets on his bad side, and then later his bed. Somehow I can’t see my heroine as secretary to a Pirate. I could however see her being bedded by a Pirate. Hmmmm...

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Okay, it's not a wrap, it's a cookbook cover but you understand what I mean. Yes, my cookbook cover's first draft is complete. I don't know if this is the one I will end up going with or not, but it was the first one I have designed. I sort of like it but sort of don't.

My confusion is with the title. Do I call the cookbook "Cooking with my friends" or do I call it "Complete guide to our very favorite foods"? Or maybe it needs to be called something different altogether. What's your opinion? Maybe "Complete guide to our utmost favorite foods"? "Cooking with Daisy Mae"?

Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to come up with an awesome title for the cookbook. The winning title will get a complimentary cookbook at no charge. and don't forget, there is still time to email me your favorite recipes to put in the cookbook with your name.

I guess my other question is the author name. Should I keep it as "compiled by (my name)" or merely my name or "By (my name)" or "(my name) and Friends"? Whadda ya think?

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Some of you may remember my previous blog which I shut down to prevent a certain white haired skank from reading my adventures. And if you remember that blog you may also remember my daughter who is in Germany while her husband serves the US Army in a certain unnamed sand pit from hell. My daughter is doing okay, except for the fact that she (and her pug) miss Soldier Boy desperately. It will be a year at the beginning of July since he was deployed and the Army is not giving them any indications of when this tour of duty will end. I had a disturbing email from my daughter this afternoon. It seems Solider Boy has been injured. He is okay. That doesn’t make us worry any the less though.

He got hit in the head with a door sized board today at work when the wind blew it over from the pole they had it leaned against. He had to get 2 staples in his head. Brooklyn freaked out a bit when he called to tell her what had happened. Soldier Boy said he thought he had been shot. He kept saying to the guys, "What was that? What hit me?" Because all he could see was the blood on his hand from where he touched his head. When they told him the board had hit him on the head he thought there was a nail stuck in his head because the door had been covered with old nails. Either way he got lucky and we are all so very glad that it wasn’t worse. Better to have a board hit you in the head than a bullet.

The whole experience has made us all remember what dangerous circumstances he is in right now. While we aren’t at liberty to tell you where he is all we can tell you is that he is in a very, very scary place and definitely in harms way. Please say a prayer for his safe and quick return.


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Poor little Booger was so worried about his Daddy that he immediately put his own soldier uniform on and vowed to kick the butt of anyone or thing that tried to hurt his Daddy. Yea Booger!

With all of my cookbook and romance novel writing I completely forgot we had a holiday in there somewhere. All of the other blogs I am reading this week are talking about their Easter festivities so having remembered that I had Easter pictures on my camera I thought I would post about our Easter holiday.


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We decided to have an Easter brunch instead of an Easter dinner this year. Since my daughter moved to Germany a year ago we haven’t been doing our weekly Sunday dinners. I think she was the glue that held us together. It just doesn’t seem the same when one of your chicks is missing from the nest. My eldest son, granddaughter Jas, and eldest son’s girlfriend and her two kids came for Easter brunch. My youngest son was supposed o come but couldn’t manage to get himself out of bed until late afternoon.


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The Easter bunny brought the kids huge Easter baskets (of which I only stole one chocolate/peanut butter egg from). The hubster appointed himself head cook and made a huge spread. There was surry sausage, applewood smoked bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs, Belgium waffles with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, pancakes, fruit salad, and mimosa’s.

And of course I had to have our traditional jello jiggler eggs for the kids. I made them each a little basket of them and loaded them up with the sugary jiggly monsters. I forgot to take pictures of the kids tearing into their easter baskets and jiggler eggs because I started on the mimosas before they got here. By the time they arrived I was feeling no pain.

After the gang left several hours later, we merely spent the rest of the day laying around recovering. It isn’t easy getting up at 8am on a Sunday morning to watch your husband cook brunch for eight. Early in the evening we had recovered enough to go out for a ridiculously expensive seafood dinner, which we enjoyed enormously. All in all not a bad Easter.

“Mmmmm…” I said as he pulled my body to him and moved slowly against me in a very appealing way.

“Lets go to bed” he said.

“Oh…Yes” I said.

An hour later we were sitting up in his bed propped against fluffy pillows struggling to catch our breath. He lit a cigarette. I didn’t smoke and never had, but a strong urge to puff on a cigarette overtook me. I grabbed his pack and extracted one.

His eyes were quizzical as he looked from me to his cigarette pack.

“Sorry, it just seemed like a cigarette moment”. I put the pack on the nightstand and laid the unlit cigarette next to it.

“Doll, you don’t want to take up smoking. Trust me on that.” He said. His eyes ran up and down my nude body as he drew a lung full of smoke. The tented rise of the sheets told me he was ready for seconds.

I looked at my watch. Only eleven. “I should be going” I said.

His hand stroked my leg inching up my thigh. He smiled seductively.

Being an amiable lover I kissed him in any number of places, never lingering too long in any one spot. “I really must go” I said between kisses.

He pulled me closer. “There’s only one place you’re going right now”.

I forgot all about the time as our bodies became one.

I got up early the next morning, dressing quickly in the half-light, not wanting to awaken him.

The embarrassment of the wanton way my body had betrayed me, didn’t fully hit me until I was stepping out of the shower in my own apartment twenty minutes later.

No, I’m not sleeping around, I am working on my novel today. Last night we had another Indy writer’s Group meeting. I could scarcely sleep last night for wanting to sit down at the computer and pound out a few lines. (No pun intended).

The question is – do you think it is okay for the heroine to sleep around in a romantic mainstream novel or is she supposed to only sleep with the man she ends up with?

Hoppy Easter Ya'll! May all your dreams be chocolate ones.

When Eggs get bitchy...

That's all I need to know. Somehow it all makes sense now.

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I had plans of spending my day working on the romance novel I’ve been writing. I need to pull about 5 pages from it to read at the Indy Writers Group meeting Monday night. Ten minutes after I sat at the computer my phone rings. It is my 6 year old granddaughter, Jas. “Gwanma” she says, “I’m calling you from my new cell phone!” She went on to describe the wonderful attributes of her cell phone her daddy (my idiot son) had bought her for Easter. (I could go on and on about how a six year old does not need a cell phone and how my son has rocks for brains, but why raise my blood pressure.) After she hangs up I go back to writing. Five minutes later Jas calls again. “Gwanma can I come over and do crafts?” I reluctantly bid adieu to my laptop for the day and picked her up. After a productive trip to Hobby Lobby we spent the afternoon making this wonderful snow globe. First we had to sculpt the animals and flowers in it from clay. Then you fill the globe full of water, pour sprinkles in it and screw the base on it. Success! After the snow globe came the colored sand project. I’ll be sweeping bits of colored sand out of my kitchen for months. It was worth it though to see the happy, somewhat toothless, smile on her face. The crafting gene has definitely been passed down to my granddaughter.


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After our crafting session Jas informs me that she is hungry and would like to go to our favorite Chinese barfette for dinner. Not a problem. It was after all, Thursday night, which is normally girls night out. While we are munching on general Tso’s chicken and egg rolls she tells me that she wants to spend the night. I have no problem with that so I said okay. Then she proceeds to call her mother and tell her that she is staying with me until 3PM tomorrow. Why 3Pm I don’t know. But as I sit here at 10:30 PM finally getting back to my laptop now that she has fallen asleep I am silently groaning. Why? Because I have spent the last eight hours playing Go fish, Old Maid, making cinnamon rolls, doing crafts, cleaning up sand, playing with an electronic dog (don’t ask), going to Walmart and countless other things I can’t remember. If I have to spend all day tomorrow playing I just may be insane by the time 3PM rolls around. I am exhausted just thinking about all we did today. I don’t know how mothers today do it. Heck, I don’t know how I did it all those years ago. Sometimes being a Gwanma is exhausting!

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“You need to work to get ahead” my grandmother told me.
“An honest days work for an honest dollar” my grandfather would say.
“Don’t work when you can get what you need off of everyone else” is what the self proclaimed faith healer neighbor tells her daughter. You can assume by those remarks that our day at the zoo did not go well. No, I take that back, our day did go well if you are asking about the fun the girls had and the many things they saw and got to experience. But if you are asking about the health of my bank account, that’s where the day went downhill. I have been walking around for the last couple of months with a fifty dollar bill hidden in my wallet that is for emergencies. You know, like a snazzy purse when I am in between paychecks, or a darling pair of shoes that I just can’t say no to. Even though I went to the bank that morning I ended up having to use my emergency fifty dollar bill yesterday. I am so sad about that.

As I mentioned yesterday, I had let myself get talked into “lending” my neighbor the money for zoo tickets for her daughter and herself. I was cool with that and I knew I would never get it back, but I was okay with that. But when we came out of the dolphin show and I went to get a cola things somehow took a downward spiral. I asked my granddaughter, Jas, if she would like a drink. No, but she did want an ice cream. I had no problem with that. Then the faith healers daughter tells the clerk to add a root beer float. So Jas changes her item to a root beer float. Then the faith healer adds a cola and breadsticks with cheese sauce. “That will be $15.02” says the clerk. Dead silence. In fact I thought I could hear crickets chirping. I slowly reach into my wallet and pull out a twenty. No one stops me or reaches in their purse to give me their portion. So I complete the move and pay for all of us. What does the faith healer do? “Tell Daisy thank you” she says to her daughter. Next comes the carousel. It costs a mere $2.75 to ride. Somehow I ended up paying for the tickets for the kids. Then F.H.D. (faith healers daughter) starts begging me to buy tickets for the train for all four of us. Tickets on the little train that circles the zoo are a whopping $7.00 per person so that would have been $28. I wasn’t about to pay that. She grabs my arm and starts insisting “Come on Daisy, buy the tickets, buy the tickets Daisy, I want to go on the train Daisy.” Her mother just looks on with a smile on her face, waiting for me to break down and buy the tickets. I refused though. I was getting more than fed up by that point and I was beginning to see that the only reason I was there was to pay for their good time. Then came the souvenir penny machine where you put in $1.01 and get your penny smashed with a picture of a zoo animal on it. F.H.D. grabs my arm and begs me to give her the money to sink into that machine. Like an idiot I did. I only did it because Jas wanted one too. Then came the soda machine where Jas wanted a bottle of water and then F.H.D. begged me for a soda while her mother looked on saying nothing. And of course I bought her a soda. Then they got hungry. “I want a footlong chili dog with extra cheese and a large fry and large coke” says the faith healer. Me too says F.H.D. “We’ll grab a table while you get the food” they say. And after giving me their order the faith healer gives me a hug and says “thanks so much for buying lunch, I don’t know what I would have done otherwise, I’m broke”. Being a soft hearted person (or an idiot) I pulled out my emergency $50 and paid the $36 for lunch. (Hotdogs are expensive at the zoo).

As we are sitting at the table and they are all eating their footlong chili dogs and fries F.H.D. looks over at my onion rings and says “I love onion rings Daisy”. I look her right in the eye and said “I do too”. And I kept on eating them without offering her one. I had a regular hotdog with a small batch of onion rings that only had 5 onion rings in it and here they were with their extra large fries and footlongs and she wants my onion rings too? Oh hell no! It wasn’t going down like that!

After a snack of ice cream and more zoo attractions our day was nearing the end. The zoo was closing in one hour so we headed to the exit, which conveniently is in the gift shop. And hell yes, F.H.D. begs me to buy her stuffed animals and such in the gift shop. No way kid. I did, however, buy my sweet little Jas (who didn’t ask for anything the entire day) a little dolphin toy that she wanted and a bracelet. As we are leaving I see F.H.D. buying something with the $5 she had. Her items came to $9 though so I see her mother pull out a wad of twenties and use one to pay for her daughter’s items with. That’s when I knew I had been had. Was I ever pissed! Being a whimp I didn’t say anything though. I didn’t want to ruin the wonderful day Jas had experienced, so I kept my mouth shut and chalked it up to experience. I would like to know how the faith healer can call herself a Christian though. And it is very apparent that she is training her daughter in the art of mooching as well. When the rapture comes and God starts smiting the sinners I don’t want to be anywhere near the faith healer or her family because I have a feeling it’s not going to go down very well for them.

The plum of the day was after we got home when the faith healer hugged me goodbye. She told me she had prayed that God would provide a way for her daughter to go places over her spring break and she was so pleased that God answered her prayers and sent me (and my wallet). I felt like telling her “honey, it wasn’t God that was footing the bill today, it was ME!” Maybe I should tell her that I prayed that God would make her pay me back.




I do have to tell you though, F.H.D. was the most annoying child at the zoo yesterday. It was quite embarrassing. She had one tone of voice and the best way to describe it would be to say it was ear splitting. The entire day was the “Hannah Show” (her real name). She dominated conversation the entire day and didn’t shut up for 60 seconds at any point in the day. And through it all her mother looked at her with the most adoring eyes as if to say, this is the most charming child on the planet. If you click on the above picture (to enlarge it) be sure to look at the woman standing in front of F.H.D. who is getting very annoyed with F.HD. That pretty much summed up the day. Annoying!

Today is April Fools day, the one day a year where it is commonplace to play a joke or prank on someone. I apparently didn’t get the true meaning of April Fools and I ended up being an April fool, only the joke was on me and it wasn’t funny. How am I an April Fool? Guess who is going to the zoo tomorrow with the self proclaimed faith healer neighbor, her daughter and my granddaughter. No joke in that right? Well guess who is paying for everyone’s good time. Yes, the joke is on me. Somehow I’ve gotten roped into paying for the self proclaimed faith healer neighbor and her daughter. This would not be a problem were it the zoo I am used to back home, because that is a donations only zoo. At the zoo here adults are $13.50 and children are $8.50. And then there is lunch. The last time I went to the zoo with Jas I ended up spending $32 for lunch just for hotdogs, fries and cokes. If it costs that much for 2 people, what is it going to cost for 4 people, with two of those people having eating disorders where they feel the need to eat everything not bolted down. What have I gotten myself into? Damn the school system for giving the kids Spring Break. It may have been cheaper for me to have just taken Jas to Florida for Spring Break. How do I get myself into these things?

The upshot is there will be plenty of pictures for your enjoyment tomorrow. I can only image how hideous these pictures will turn out. I can’t help but think about the horror of the pictures I took when the self proclaimed faith healer and I took her daughter out to lunch one day a couple of months ago. It was a toss up as to which one of them was fighting hardest for the camera’s attention. I am fortunate my camera lens didn’t crack. Yes, that is a pic of the faith healer and her daugter in the pic above. See what I mean about being grateful the lens didn't crack?

But then I take a moment to step back and look on the bright side of all of this. I am creating wonderful memories for my precious granddaughter and the faith healers daughter. Providing I don’t lose it and blow my top tomorrow they will both look back upon that day and think of me fondly. They will tell their kids one day about the time I took them to the zoo on Spring Break and spent $400 on hotdogs, fries and cokes and did it with a smile (and lots of valium). Yes, I have an active imagination. But I firmly believe that the universe gives back and after the day I am going to have tomorrow the universe will definitely owe me one, big time!

We’d better enjoy the nice weather tomorrow while we can because the news report on TV tonight said that our lovely 80 degree weather will be turning into a rainy chilly 40 degree day on Wednesday with cold temps the rest of the week. That is bad news for my flower bulbs which should be blooming on Wednesday. Some are blooming now. These are the few bulbs that the chipmunks didn’t dig up and eat or move. So what the neighborhood vermin doesn’t destroy Mother nature will. I just can’t get a break. And to really piss me off the hubster is saying “I told you so”. You see, yesterday we went to a local nursery to get some potting soil and hopefully some plants. I pick out a nice tomato plant and put it in my cart when the hubster looks and me and dryly says “you know it’s going to get cold again, and they will just die”. I got very sad because it seems like anything I want to do nowdays Mr. Gloom and Doom has to put a damper on it and be a killjoy. So I merely put the plant back and didn’t buy anything.

“Go ahead and buy it if you want” Mr. Killjoy said.

“Forget it” I mumbled.

“No, go ahead and buy it if it’s that important to you. I’m just saying that we always have cold weather on and off until May in Indiana. They’ll end up dying.”

“Whatever” I mumbled.

So now I have Mr. Gloom and Doom gloating saying “I told you so”.

Damn Indiana weather. Damned men.