My Not-So-Stange Addiction

Pinterest.

Yep, I’m addicted.

I resisted for as long as I could. I was turned off by having to “request an invitation” to participate. Got over my snarky self, pressed the request button. Got my “invitation” shortly thereafter and my addiction was instantaneous.

For me, Pinterest is like this amazingly magical treasure chest. And I can’t control my addiction because there are so many beautiful images, great tips, hilarious words … well, something for everyone. Creativity and beyond …..

Oh my, I must go back there right this minute. Might miss exactly what I’m looking for. Even though I have no idea what I’m looking for which is par for my course.

You can follow me there – Izzie Darling, duh. Check my boards. You might find something you are looking for. Or not.

Happiness is a choice.

Later.

Pink Balls, Lame Line, SIRI Sucks and Other Stuff

Happy New Year! Whew, it’s crazy around here. Crazy good, but crazy nonetheless.

Where to start …

I think it was last Tuesday when I got a cool new part-time job and an order for 12 giant pink balls for an upcoming event (I design decorations/side business). The new gig has nothing to do with balls. Rah. So, I’ve been working my balls fingers off to get order ready and have a life. No complaints, just tired. So here’s me:

Balls!

No balls, after hours

Everything is running smoothly as I have an amazing assistant who is 100% involved in making life easy around here:

After my beauty rest, I'll get back to you, Iz

 Moving on. In the Lame Line department … ok, so here’s the back story. Tomorrow is THE football game of life. Around these parts, anyway. Made a mad dash to my dad’s man cave to swipe some of his Alabama gear to wear to a party. Said party will be 99% lsu fans. I must represent as my birth occurred a few hours before he had to fly with the team to play Rice. Focus, Izzie. Okay, so I’m on my way home and stop by Whole Foods to get some coffee. Note: I am dressed in leggings, a little t-shirt, an Alabama football cap, and my “Take Me Seriously” glasses. As I approach the coffee aisle, a man with hair on his head and the Holy Bible in his cart stops me.

Hair/Bible Man: ” Do you work here?”

Moi: Do I look like I work here?”

Blind/Hair/Bible Man: “Yes, yes you do.”

Moi: “But I’m thismany years old!”
Weirdo/Blind/Hair/Bible Man: “Well, I’m 75!”

Before I could self-edit,Bullshit!” flew out of my mouth, accompanied by, So is my mother!” Such  comments should deter anyone from trying to continue a conversation, but no. Methinks he mistook my “Take Me Seriously” glasses for “Take Me, Seriously” specs. Meh! Fey! Yech! And to think I’m on the highway to hell for weirdo verbage with a hair man carting the Holy Bible while trying to pick up bespectacled chicks hens at Whole Foods. Just another day in paradise …..

Before I dash, must address SIRI, the worst personal assistant via iPhone 4S. SIRI is a bitch. To me. I asked her why she is so passive-aggressive. Her response, “I don’t know what you are talking about“. See, totally passive-aggressive. I asked her to sing a song – she’s so lame, I got “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do“. Really, SIRI, is that your best shot? Her response, “I aim to please.” Am quite sure she’s much nicer to others and it is totally weird to verbally spar with my cell phone BUT I am paying her salary, really. Bitch.

This photo of my assistant sums it all up – whatever “it” is:

Fill my trough and get lost, you nutty broad!

Be happy. Or not. It’s a choice.

ROLL TIDE!

Later. Or not.

P.S. Any misspelled words and format fails are the fault of SIRI. So sue me.

If It’s Tuesday, I Am Freaky

75 and feeling fine

What freaks you out?

After reading a post about hotels by domermom, I was immediately reminded of things that go ick in the night. Starting with hotels – five-star or no star – hotel rooms freak me out. When I enter one, there are activities I am forced to perform. First, get hanger out of closet and remove bedspread using hanger. Toss anywhere out of view. Not a fan of gizz monsters/leftovers. Unpack socks. Lots of socks. Which come in handy when I need to walk on hotel room floor. There is no way in hell I would put my bare foot down on the carpet. See “leftovers”. Unpack flip-flops – for shower. Flush toilet with foot. I’m freaky that way.

Other Stuff that Gags Me

  • Food troughs, as in all-you-can-eat establishments
  • Sitting in traffic and looking over at the car next to me. The driver is digging for nose gold.
  • My dog trying to cozy up to my minimal chesticles. I didn’t breastfeed my babies; he is freaking me out.
  • Smells: scrambled eggs, wet puppies, ground beef cooking, chicken boiling, cig smoke in cars, b.o., Asiago cheese
  • People scratching their privates in public – get a room
  • Chaos – some people love an environment filled with ringing phones, slamming doors, loud convos – all fine, but not for me
  • Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul (I do this regularly)
  • Intentional disrespect – i.e. ugly scuffle on DWTS last night, Bitches Housewives of Beverly Hills always ganging up on one woman

Enough! Let’s end this on a positive note! Playing Words With Friends the other night, Lady Di used “ergo“; I LOVE that word. Other faves include scathing, magical, lilting, and – when strung together – you have just won 100 billion dollars. Haven’t heard that last one yet. Ergo, I’d best get back to work.

Later.

My Trees Have Faces and Other Stuff

No, I’m not writing from the psych ward. All my trees do have faces.

Smiley McStump

See? He’s the happiest of the lot. It is too early in the day to show you the others. September was  a month of observations – and not blogging. Climbing back on the wagon, I’ll share lessons some observations. Shocking, right?

  1. GMA  reported that men adore beautiful women – specifically women with big eyes, full lips, and a small chin. This info comes from a Harvard study. I get the eyes and lips but a small chin? Have you ever been complimented on your chin, period? Good grief, the only reason a woman even looks at her chin is to check for scary hairies.
  2. My neighbor. If you saw him on the street, you’d think he was a hunk of burning love. LOOKS ARE DECEIVING. He hates everything and everyone except dogs, me, and penis replacements. He’s just traded his ginormous Hummer for a Monster Truck. Said truck does not fit in garage. He is way scary … especially when he throws a ball or something – repeatedly – against my bedroom wall from what must be his bedroom. Ewwwwww!
  3. The two funniest shows on tv, in my opinion, are Saving Grace and New Girl. Zooey Dechanel is HILARIOUS!
  4. BARGAIN ALERT: If you have a CVS card, you can purchase a case of water for $1.11 this week.

If you want the secret to good hair – buy this:

Suave Dry Shampoo

You can find it at grocery and drug stores, it is usually under $2 and it IS a game changer in hair land. After having a pixie cut for 20 years, I decided to grow my hair out. Channeling a younger Anna Wintour, I am. While there is much more hair than I remember, it is straight as a board and needs a bit of volume. Enter Suave Dry Shampoo. You can use it however you wish. For some serious volume, here’s what you do: wash your hair, dry your hair, then spray the roots with the dry shampoo. Massage it in and wait about five minutes. Then fix your major hair bomb. Trust me on this one; I’ve had disbelieving friends test the method and they are converts.

Am big into bargain hunting  and latest finds came from Old Navy and Marshall’s.

Old Navy cardigan and turtleneck
Laundry tweed sheath/Marshall’s

The cardigan, under $20; the turtleneck, under$18. Lots of colors and variations on both.

The Laundry sheath (bad photo) is awesome and will work until spring. With opaque hose and great heels, not bad for $59.
Last but not least, if you want a really good laugh, check out http://whenparentstext.com/
Later.

I Want to Know Why ….

… a person cannot look you in the eye? This topic came up over dinner last night, but no answers were forthcoming.

Have you ever had a conversation with an eye-avoider? What gives here? There are three people I have known forever, but I couldn’t tell you what color their eyes are – because they do not look me when we have a conversation. I would assume they individually hate my guts, but they do it with any and everyone. Two are pathological liars and one has the self-esteem of a rotting corpse. Maybe I’ve answered my own question, but I’d rather hear from you.

Why are some people unable to look you in the eyes when engaged in conversation? I’m very curious about body language – today. Let me know what you think!

Sooner than later. Ok?

Throw Some Water On Me!

 I am melting. Along with the rest of the city, state, country, world.

When you wake up early and the temperature is 97-degrees, it’s hot. When 80-degrees indoors feels decadently delicious, it’s damn hot.

Spent four days in Oxford, Mississippi last week. I met with friends for breakfast one morning. Afterwards, we walked all over Oxford. I was dressed for breakfast, not for walking tour. My wardrobe never crossed my mind until we were halfway between here and hell. My jeans felt like they were made of aluminum wool. As did my shirt and sports bra. Tom’s are great shoes; they are not walking- for- 100- miles shoes. When we finally made it back to the MoJo (sort of hotel/motel facility), I drank any and everything in my room. Couldn’t get those jeans and shirt off fast enough. Turned the AC to zero and collapsed on the bed. I got up only when my body temperature reached a normal range. Lo and behold, when I looked back at the bed, it was a Shroud of Turin situation – had the shrouded person worn an electic orange sports bra. Whole body imprint. That, my friends, is HOT.

As I can think of nothing else, I’m offering my favorite “heat” sayings; am too hot to care what you do with them.

Hotter than…

  • “… a pair of sweat pants full of barbecue”
  • “… a whore house on nickel night”
  • “… a June bride on a feather bed”
  • “… two rats having sex in a wool sock”

It’s so hot that…

  • “… the chickens are laying hard-boiled eggs”
  • “I saw two trees fighting over a dog”
  • “I saw a fire hydrant chasing a dog”

In keeping with the dog theme, mine is apparently allergic to the heat. Each time I try to take him out (as in “do your business, damn it”), he runs. If I can catch him and drag him toward the door, he gives me the same look. The look that says, “Hey, Lady – are you kidding me? I’m wearing a fur coat!”.

Anyone know a good carpet cleaner?

Later. Maybe. After I move to Iceland. But I’m too hot to pack. Never mind.

Later.

Underwear Fail, Tribal Insanity, and Some Other Stuff

Today I am blaming EVERYTHING on Sean Kingston. For the life of me, I can’t get that 911 song out of my head. Nor can I get the lyrics right. I thought he was singing, “Someone call 911, Shortie’s on fire on the dance floor”. Looked lyrics up and they are, “Somebody call 911, Shawty fire burning on the dance floor”. What the hell is a “Shawty“? So I had to google that as well; a shawty is a “fine woman”. Hating on that whole situation. But let me share some more.

Underwear Fail  Seated around a restaurant dinner table with mixed company, this was the convo:

Bare Bottom: “I have to go put on some underpants. I forgot I didn’t have any on.”

Me: “YOU DON’T HAVE UNDERWEAR ON? DON’T CALL THEM “UNDERPANTS”; THOSE ARE FOR MEN. WHERE IS YOUR UNDERWEAR?”

Bare Bottom: Left’em in the car hours ago. Just bought some around the corner. Where’s the restroom?”

Just like that – stomping around a windy city for hours, in a dress and no panties – and it takes 5 hours to figure it out?  That, my friends, is typical dinner conversation around these parts. Would say we are a pack of toothless, inbred  hillbillies if not for my mother’s recent convos.

Mama Says – After reminding me what my middle name was (not that I asked), she said “Five of our family members signed the Magna Carta“. Ok, so we might be toothless and inbred. When I went to visit my Dad today, she said, in this order, “Get a job. Your hair needs a trim. I’m exhausted.” Well, hello to you, too, Mrs. Happy Pants. I make myself scarce and go find my Dad.

Daddy Says – Let me give you a little “dad” info. Mine speaks in quotes, a lot. “She looks like 40 miles of bad road”, “That dog won’t hunt”, and “I am NOT a rich man” frequently pepper many a chat. When I saw him today, he was stoned out of his gourd, but he did ask me the same question he asks me every day. I’ve told him the long-winded answer. Every day. Except today. “What is the graduate doing?”. My answer – one word. “Plastics.” Which made perfect sense to him after a Vicodin cocktail. Thinking about all his ‘isms made me think of some other ‘isms my friends use.

Friends Say – The ones that come to mind include Jeez o’peep, Lawd A’Mercy, Reeeeeeally?, and one I’ve yet to figure out, “F*^k me running”. Could that be the same as “Cool Running”? Don’t know, can’t get a bead on that visual. Then I remembered what we would say in middle school when mad at one another. Start low, end high. “Get so mad, would ‘ya? Yes, I will, thank ‘ya”. Somehow, this stroll down short memory lane reminded me of what I just read.

WHAT I JUST READ

  • WHY DOES A PSYCHIC HAVE TO ASK YOUR NAME?”
  • “HOW CAN YOU TELL WHEN YOU ARE OUT OF INVISIBLE INK?”
  • “WHY IS THE NEEDLE STERILIZED FOR A LETHAL INJECTION?”
  • “SILLY CYCLIST … STEROIDS ARE FOR BALLPLAYERS!”

Wow.I am scaring myself. Would go find an adult refreshment but, whoops, ex-housekeeper drained liquor cabinet. Instead, I’ll just go all optimistic here!  Winner, Winner! It’s a Charlie Sheen day! Now where is that Dragon Blood?

Later. Maybe. Probably.

The View from Here and There

Okay, so I’m no Blanche DuBois, forced to “depend on the kindness of strangers“, but am really lucky and most grateful to have generous and kind dear friends who like to hit the road a lot and ask me to ride shotgun. They are kind; I am a travel ho. Facts are facts.

I think I’m having a traveling year. Poor me, right? No boo hoo anywhere near me – I love to travel. Am a horrid photographer, but the picture above features the home of a 14-foot alligator named Buster. He lives on an island off South Carolina. I didn’t meet him but when I was little, my dad picked me up and pretended he was throwing me into an alligator pit at some tourist trap. I was that kind of kid, the kind you want to throw to the alligators. Maybe that’s where all my self-confidence comes from.

So I’m dropping in and out-of-town, at least through June. God willing and the creek don’t rise. I do miss Cooper the dog, but he’s so pissed I’m not around, he’ll probably bite me when we see each other again. Speaking of bites, I used that phrase, “bite me” quite a bit but I had to stop. Why would I want someone who was giving me shit to bite me? Wouldn’t, shouldn’t I want to bite them instead? Someone, anyone, please explain. Ok, back on track.

Last night was a full moon. Was in the beautiful country with girlfriends. Center photo was taken during post-dinner/cocktails. Outside, lying on a huge pad with four girlfriends, singing summer camp songs we learned many a moon ago. Friends for more than 40 years (pre-school). Nothing had changed, everything has changed. And we left out a bunch of words to the songs because – whoops – we couldn’t remember them. El Jefe, our hostess, brought up the fact that, with the moon and all, we could be eaten by werewolves. That happens all the time, you know. I left them out there debating when and where said werewolves would appear and went to bed. They were all alive the next morning. Win-win.

So, I’m home for today, packing to leave for McPaddie‘s graduation from college. My bank account, which has 7 cents in it, is doing its own happy dance. Have been honest before about my aversion to the sun resulting in skin the color of packaged chicken. Fine for winter, dreadful for spring/summer. Have tried self-tanners with disastrous results. Once I had orange candy cane striped legs and the People of Walmart actually pointed to and laughed at them. Oh, the shame. My friend, Malibu, has provided me with an alternative.

The phrase, “Vanity, thy name is woman” would apply – if it were correct. But Shakespeare wrote, “Frailty, thy name is woman“. Whatever – I went to the magic place, Throwing Copper, today and am now airbrushed a golden copper shade. I would say “I’m so vain” but truly, it is a gift for anyone who has to look at me. It is organic stuff, doesn’t smell horrid and lasts about a week. Apparently I’m the last one to this party as this practice is a weekly ritual for many. And it could be weird, standing there with your privacy hanging out while the shaman airbrushes your bod. But it does look quite fetching if I don’t say so myself. Here’s the scoop, in case you, too, have sun issues:

 

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Scentual Speak: Just What IS Your Favorite?

Scent is the main reason we buy a certain candle.  Makes sense, scent is very personal. Personally, my sniffer is seasonal. Holiday and freshly baked cookie scents in fall and winter; bright, crisp citrus and very light florals for spring and summer.  While doing a little scentsual research, I was not surprised to find the top-selling scent of most candlistas is … vanilla.

Vanilla scents evoke a warm, cozy feeling.  And a notable scent can stir up the deepest memories.  Aromatherapy gurus agree that citrus and mints are energizing, lavender is calming, basil has properties that support concentration, and jasmine can be an aphrodisiac.  My own bit of unscientific research tells me that people are strongly opinionated about what wafts around their homes. As well they should be. I need to know these things. That’s my business. Method to madness ….

With a sniff, sniff here and a sniff, sniff there … my new “endeavor” puts my olfactory sense into overdrive. After evaluating all sorts of activities that produce money, I’m rolling out a new business.

When I told Austin Ann about it, she laughed so hard. “You’ve had so many jobs, you remind me of that nursery rhyme … “…a butcher, a baker””; now I’m a candlestick maker smeller/seller.    My new situation rocks with the lights on; I can be creative and outsource production. When I was a real estate agent (don’t ask), I would put a tray of slice-and-bake cookies in the oven before an open house. That smell was a home aphrodisiac. Now I have a candle for that! One interesting tidbit about choosing candle scents and/or perfume: have coffee beans on hand when doing so. Take a whiff of the coffee beans in between each sniff; this clears the olfactory palette for the next option.

There are many cool aspects to this venture . I’m so lucky to work with an incredible candle maker (local), actually apply my marketing plan, design labels, packaging, and sell the product. And I know this product because I’ve burned these candles for two years.The fragrance combinations are limitless.  I like limitless.

Here’s where you come in – if you are a candle person.  I want to know what you like, scentually speaking. Do you have a favorite? Favorites?

Please, please tell me now … this is something I should know! (apologies to Duran Duran).

Merci.

Later.

*Many thanks to Dizzy*

Brain Floats

Have to admit, my brain is floating around more than usual today. Sharing:

My precious -and- very talented – friend, Meg, officially launches lesueur interiors this evening. She has a beautiful website and blog. Check her out at www.lesueurinteriors.com. You won’t be disappointed, you will be inspired! Champagne all around!

Is it just me or should Gleeks be campaigning for Justin Timberlake to appear on Glee? He looks very much like he could be related to Matthew Morrison, “Mr. Schuster”. And he can sing. Just sayin’. (Obviously from photo, I’m not the first to think of these two together; but I saw the photo after I thought this, so there!)

 

I was in Whole Foods the other day when I was struck with a notion. It’s a cool place, I shop there, maybe I should apply for a job. As there are plenty of attractive female employees there, it occurred to me I might be able to cop a job if I grew a beard and had some piercings. Ears already pierced! Beard not a good look. Meh! Before I could wallow in self-pity, a young woman walked in the store. She looked like this:

 

The drawing resembles what would be called the “fat” version of the woman I saw. First, I felt like crying for her as she was beyond anorexic and that is such a horrid disease. If I had to estimate, she might have weighed 75 pounds and stood about 5’6″. As I left, I said a prayer that Whole Foods had heart paddles in case hers said, “I quit” in the vegetable aisle. (Am very familiar with anorexia so no rants, please.) Then I was reminded of my former husband. He could qualify as a manorexic but it’s from extreme exercising. He was a triathelete when we first married and I told him then he looked like Jesus hanging on the cross. A couple of weeks ago, he came by to pick up my youngest daughter and her boyfriend. When I saw him, I said, “Good grief, former husband, eat some food!” Then being the bossy pants I am, I told daughter and beau to take him to the gas station and put the air hose in his mouth until he filled out a bit. Yikes!

Flipping totally over to the other side of the coin, I’ll leave you with a recipe that sounds so gross and is so yummy. I preface this with the fact that I don’t eat anything like this on a yearly basis, but you gotta go crazy sometimes! Really, the mixture of these ingredients will repulse, but the finished product will be gobbled up. Promise!

Tamales and Chicken A La King

12 Johnson’s Colorado tamales

2 cans Swanson’s Chicken A La King

1 12oz can evaporated milk

1 4oz can chopped green chiles

grated cheddar cheese

Heat oven to 350-degrees. Grease 9×13 pan. Unwrap tamales and place on bottom of pan. Mix chicken, chiles, and milk. Pour over tamales. Cover top with generous amount of cheddar cheese. Cook for 45 minutes or until bubbly.

Hook’em.

Later.