Here's Dudley modeling the latest in fashion wear, worn by obsessively licking dogs everywhere. I think Layla's asking "Are you KIDDING me?"

Here's the view I get every morning. Not exactly inspiring, is it?

This is a great use up recipe for any fish or shrimp you have, although if you have any leftover shrimp, you really should see a medical professional, in my opinion.


1/2 cup chopped onion
1 garlic clove, chopped
1 cup (8 oz) reduced fat sour cream
3 tblsps of flour
1 cup of reduced sodium chicken broth
1 can (4 oz) chopped green chilies
1 tsp. ground coriander
1/4 tsp. pepper
1 cup (4 oz) shredded, reduced fat Mexican cheese blend, divided
2 cups coarsely chopped seafood (fish, shrimp, crab, or any mix)
8 tortillas (corn or flour)
1/2 cup chopped tomato
1/2 cup chopped green onions
1/4 cup chopped black olives

In a large saucepan, cook onion and garlic in a little bit of olive oil, over medium heat until tender. Combine sour cream and flour until smooth; gradually add to onion mixture. Stir in the broth, chilies, coriander and pepper. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, uncover for 2-3 minutes or until thickened. Remove from heat; stir in 1/2 cup of cheese.

Place seafood in a bowl; stir in 1/2 cup of sauce. Spoon equal amounts on tortillas and roll them up tightly. Place seam side down in an 11 x 7 x 2 inch baking dish coated with cooking spray. Top with remaining sauce.

Cover and bake at 350 for 30 minutes. Uncover and sprinkle with remaining cheese. Bake 5 minutes longer or until cheese is melted. Let stand for 5 minutes. Top with tomato, green onions and olives.

Makes 8 servings.

This is a recipe I got from the newspaper, but it's a dish that is served at one of our favorite restaurants, Flying Fish. If you get a chance, get the original at Flying Fish, but this is a fairly good imitation.

1 (28 oz) can of petite diced tomatoes, in juice, well-drained with juices reserved.
1 tblsp. extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup chopped white onion
3 large garlic cloves, chopped
3 small bay leaves
2 tblsps. chopped fresh parsley (or not)
1 tblsp. oregano
1/4 cup sliced green olives
2 tblsps. raisins
2 tblsps. drained, rinsed capers
salt & pepper to taste
6 (4-5 oz) tilipia fillets
3 pickled jalapenos, seeded and halved or quartered (or not)

Place drained tomatoes in medium bowl. Using potato masher, crush tomatoes to course puree. Drain again, reserving juices.

Heat oil in large, heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion and stir 30 seconds. Add garlic and stir 30 seconds. Add tomato puree and cook 1 minute. Add bay leaves, parsley, oregano and 1/4 cup reserved tomato juices. Simmer until sauce thickens, about 3 minutes. Add olives, raisins, capers and all remaining tomato juices. Simmer until sauce thickens again, stirring occasionally, about 8 minutes. Season sauce to taste with salt & pepper. (this can be made 1 day in advance and refrigerated).

Preheat oven to 425. Spread 3 tblsps of sauce in bottom of 15 x 10 x 2 inch glass baking dish. Arrange fish on top of sauce and sprinkle fish lightly with salt & pepper. Spoon remaining sauce over the fish. The fish and sauce can be layered in the dish, if you don't have enough room.

Bake uncovered until fish flakes with fork, about 18 - 20 minutes. Using a long spatula, transfer fish to plates, top with sauce. Garnish with jalapeno.

Makes 6 servings.

This is what I like to call a Double Duty Dinner (okay, I stole that name from the recipe column in the Dallas Morning News, but it just fits so well, and I didn't see a trademark on it). The first dish is what you serve for dinner the first night and you use the leftovers in the second recipe for dinner the next night or later in the week. You could also freeze it and serve the recipe at a later time...I'm not the boss of you, ya know.


FIRST NIGHT: HONEY MUSTARD GLAZED SALMON FILLETS

4 tblsp. fresh lemon juice (about 2 lemons)
4 tblsp. Honey Dijon Mustard (or Honey Mustard)
4 tblsp. honey
finely grated lemon zest from your two lemons
2 lbs of salmon fillets
salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
Cooking spray

Spray a large baking dish with non-stick spray. Rinse salmon and pat it dry with paper towels. Place salmon fillets in baking dish and salt and pepper them.

In another small bowl, mix lemon juice, mustard, honey and lemon zest. Pour half of mixture over salmon fillets, turn fillets over and salt and pepper the other side. Pour remaining marinade over fillets.

Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator for at least 30 minutes and up to 3 hours.

Remove fillets from refrigerator and allow to come to room temperature. Turn fillets over one last time. Preheat oven to 400 degrees and cook fillets approximately 20-25 minutes or until fish flakes easily with a fork.

Serve fillets, reserving 8 oz. for later recipe.



LATER RECIPE: SALMON FETTUCCINE

12 oz. fettuccine
2 tsp. olive oil
1/2 med. sliced onion
2 cloves of minced garlic
1/2 tsp of crushed red pepper flakes
2 tblsp. wine (any kind)
1 (14.5 oz) can of petite diced tomatoes
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
1 1/2 tsp. of rinsed capers
8 ounces of cooked salmon fillets (skin removed)

Cook fettuccine according to package directions; drain and set aside.

While fettuccine cooks, heat oil in large skillet and saute onion, and red pepper flakes until onion is tender. Add garlic and saute an additional minute.

Add wine, tomatoes, thyme and capers and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer to reduce.

Break salmon into pieces and add to sauce. Heat through.

Serve sauce over fettuccine.

The dogs discovered an uninvited guest this morning in the rain gutters on the patio. I'm not real sure what HE'S so ticked off about, I'm betting HE didn't just turn 48 years old!!

This is a wing it recipe. I got the original recipe from the Dallas Morning News and I only follow the guidelines, I just kind of wing it. It's a great way to use up whatever leftovers you might have. The only thing that's really a pain about it is, you need to have a skillet that's really big, non-stick and can also go in the oven. Or you can cheat, like I do, and wrap the non-ovenproof handle in heavy duty foil. Just make sure you've got 911 on the speed dial, just in case.

In a great big, non-stick, oven-proof (or not) skillet, saute chopped onions, bell peppers and garlic in olive oil, until vegs are tender. (or use chopped leftover peppers and onions)

Add any leftover meat, chicken, sausage and vegetables you have: spinach, broccoli, squash, whatever

In a large bowl, mix together 2 cups of Egg Beaters, any seasonings you wish and salt and pepper to taste (don't taste the Egg Beaters! Just use however much S&P you think you'd like).

Pour the egg mixture over the veggies in the skillet, cover and simmer on Medium heat for about 6 minutes, turning the pan and doing that nudge thing with a spatula to get any uncooked egg to the bottom of the pan.

Preheat your oven broiler to high. Put the skillet in the oven (this is the time you'd wrap your handle if it isn't oven-proof).

Broil until the top just starts to look golden. Pull the skillet out and sprinkle with cheese (whatever kind you like), slide it back in under the broiler and broil until the eggs are set and the top is golden brown.

Serve with leftover roasted potatoes and fruit.

Here's a picture of Layla's favorite rope toy, which Joseph placed on the very tip top of the door, out of her reach. WHY would he do something like that? Because, previously she'd had the nerve to go in his room and steal his remote control. A big brother's gotta do what a big brother's gotta do, ya know.

This is a recipe I got, a million years ago, from a sweet woman at my church. It's delicious and easy and your family (especially the males) will love it every time you make it - I swear.

Assorted chicken pieces (I use skinless/boneless chicken breasts and/or thighs, because I'm boring like that)

1 can of cream of mushroom soup (or cream of chicken)

1 cup of rice (the long grain kind that takes 25 minutes to cook)

2 & 1/4 cups of water

1/2 - 1 whole envelope of Onion Soup Mix (like Lipton's, but Wal-Mart is cheaper and just as good)

Onion & celery, chopped (however much you want - this is optional)


Mix together the soups, water, rice, onion & celery. (I usually put it all in a Tupperware bowl with a tight lid and shake it up). Pour into a well greased 9x13 in. casserole dish. Make sure rice is spread evenly over bottom of dish.

Rinse chicken pieces and arrange them over the top of the dish. Sprinkle chicken with salt & pepper and paprika if you want to impress anybody.

Bake in a 350 oven for 1 - 1 & 1/2 hours. Let sit for about 10 minutes and serve.

I guarantee, it'll become a family favorite in no time!

You can email me at: melindaproza (at) yahoo.com

(Joseph says not to put any personal information on here, so if you wanna talk to me, you're gonna have to send me an email.)

Ask me some questions, and I'll answer them. Ready? Go!

I'm a Stay At Home Mom who's soon to be out of a job, since my oldest is 22 and my youngest is 19.

I have two yellow Labs who are busy applying for the recently vacated spoiled children spots. I'm pretty sure they'll be hired.

I've been married to my husband, Roger, for almost 24 years. He's better than I deserve, but I'm keeping him, anyway.

My Dad called the other day and said the words guaranteed to make me hyperventilate...he needed me to watch Momma for a couple of hours.

Of course, I agreed, I don't do near enough helping out, in my opinion, but that could be the Accept And Embrace Any And All Possible Guilt method of child rearing my parents employed, and man, they were Masters at it, too. I can't go out in public without random guilt virtually attaching itself to me and comfortably settling in for the long haul. I am a Guilt Magnet...nice to meet ya.

Daddy said he'd drop Momma off at 8:00 a.m., so of course, he was banging on our door at 7:30. There's the standard time that the rest of the world uses and then there's "My Daddy Time", which is ALWAYS significantly earlier than the rest of the modern world.

We got Momma settled in a chair at the table - and I only had to throw my body in front of her to shield her from the 102 pound dog projectile, only once...things are starting off GREAT!

We sit at the table, and Roger reads the paper, while I work on my grocery list and Momma asks her questions. The same questions, over and over and over, with about a 2 minute interval between them.

What's interesting is, that between the questions, she starts telling these stories that, apparently, she's making up in her head, about things that have never happened. It's kind of entertaining if you can get past the horror of the fact that your beloved Mother is pretty much waaay out there, living in a world known only to herself.

That's one of the things I've learned about Alzheimer's...in order to cope with the horror of what it does to your loved one, it's best to suspend your belief in a normal world and just enter their world and ride THEIR ride with them.

Roger is a pro at this. He can sit, calmly and patiently, and listen to Mother, who's making no sense whatsoever and join her in her Fantasy Land. Me and my Dad? Not so much. My Dad is a total control freak and, unfortunately his youngest apple (me) didn't fall far from the tree. I don't argue with Momma when she says something that's not right, but my father has yet to learn that's a battle you won't ever win, so why bother fighting? I swear, I think the phrase "Don't Sweat The Small Stuff" was coined for people who deal with those suffering from dementia. You have to let the small stuff go, or you'll be sticking your head in the oven in no time.

It's hard, so hard, to hear your own mother ask who you are, and think her son-in-law is her husband, and that her husband is her father. It's hard, but it's not completely unbearable, as long as you realize that the world SHE lives in is a fairly happy place. It has it's moments of uncertainty, but, for the most part, it's a child-like existence she lives and she lives it with the innocence and trust of a child, believing that someone will always be there to care for her and to love her. Undoubtedly, this is the only positive part of having Alzheimer's....but, it's STILL not enough.

Who was it who said not to EVER leave your house without looking your best, or you'll run into somebody who you DON'T want to see looking your worst? Well, whoever it was, they're either a prophet or a genius.

Yes, my friends, this unfortunate thing happened to me just the other day. Monday, in fact. See, in my SAHM (Stay-At-Home-Mom) life, I frequently look like the back end of hard times. Now, that's not BECAUSE I'm a SAHM. On the countrary, there's a woman in my neighborhood who, during her SAHM days actually dressed in the latest casual fashions, wore make up and fixed her hair EACH AND EVERY DAY..even if she WASN'T going to leave the house.

Doesn't surprise me that her SAHM days are over and she's gone back to work. She obviously didn't have what it takes to be a successful SAHM. Successful SAHM's have few fashion and grooming rules, but the ones we have are etched in stone.

#1 Clothes worn for every day must be purchased at Wal-Mart or Target - preferably on sale, and must be made of a fabric either dark in color or of a loud enough print it makes your eyes water. This is so the inevitable stains don't show. Oh, it ALSO must be wrinkle free, or at least able to be MADE wrinkle free with just a few turns in a dryer with a damp washcloth. SAHM's firmly believe a hot iron is just a trip to the burn ward, waiting to happen.

#2 Hair must either be short enough to just wet it, slick it and go (my own personal coif) or long enough to pull it back into a ponytail or clip. Brushing is optional, but encouraged...after all, we DO have standards.

#3 Make up should be applied on an "as needed" basis. As in "Am I going to see anybody I care enough about impressing to make the effort?" If you think carefully about this decision, you'll find that almost NO situation requires you making the "wake-up to make-up" effort.

Think about it....your husband and kids? You've already LANDED the husband, and, if he's like most men, he's not going to make the effort it takes to get a divorce and a new wife. It's the old "The Evil you KNOW is better than the evil you DON'T" scenario. Besides, he and the kids will NOT notice if you've smeared on the war-paint or not, trust me. No, they'll notice you put mushrooms in the spaghetti sauce, but you, all dolled up and looking gorgeous? Not so much.

The grocery store? Please, you KNOW each and every one of those clerks would be bare-faced in a New York Minute, if they didn't have to go to work and look "presentable", and there are even some customers with lower dress codes than SAHM's. I'm thinking as long as you're not strolling down the soup aisle in your pajama bottoms and houseshoes, you're ahead of the game.

The gynocologist? Listen, what he's concerned with is at the other end....if you've got a gyno who spends his time looking at your FACE, it's time to change doctors.

The dermotologist? They actually ASK that you not wear make-up to your appointment...my kind of place, right there. They DON'T say you should wear your daily slob clothes..but nobody expects you to dress up when you're make-up less. That's just against the natural law of things.

Nope, about the only time a SAHM should look like she just stepped out of a band box is when there's a chance she'll see someone who's opinion she truly cares about. Of course, I'm talking about a sworn arch enemy.

I had the unfortunate experience of coming face to face with my own personal nemesis the other day in the office of my youngest son's high school. No, he wasn't in trouble...at least he wasn't BEFORE he made me stop in the middle of laundry day and bring him his forgotten art portfolio.

Youngest son calls me and asks if I could please bring him his portfolio, it's in his room, oh and by the way - he has to have it within the next 15 minutes.

No problem...I grab my purse, car keys, the portfolio, stuff Layla in the DogHair Mobile, and we're OFF! No, I didn't take the time to change clothes and I'm dressed in my usual Monday "climbing Mount Laundry" day attire: baggy old jeans, stained sock money queen t-shirt and no-make up - I'm proud to say I DID think to change my houseshoes to Dollar store flip-flops.

The wind is blowing something fierce and by the time I man-handle the portfolio out of the car and into the school building, my hair looks like Harpo Marx on a bad day. I blow into the office and there "she" sits, sitting behind the desk, obviously filling in as a temp for the day.

Now hindsight is 20/20...at least mine COULD be if my rear-view mirror didn't have dog snot on it. I know this woman works as a temp for our school district, it just never crossed my mind that she'd be working at THAT particular school at THAT particular time. I mean, what are the odds? If you know me, you know the odds are pretty good..almost a sure thing, in fact.

Before I could stop myself, I piped out a cherry "Hello" - I don't do well under stress - practically THREW the portfolio at some unfortunate student volunteer and high tailed it out of that building as fast as my .99 cent flip flops could carry me. I got to my car and immediately flipped down the visor mirror, hoping to see that I'd somehow turned into a natural beauty overnight and didn't look as bad as I thought I looked. No such luck.

I'm not sure what lesson I can learn from this. I guess I COULD start spiffing up every day like my neighbor, or, I COULD contact my arch enemy and extend the olive branch of peace, so I didn't live in fear of running into her again.

I think I'll do the mature, responsible thing. If Youngest Son forgets anything else, I'm just gonna leave him swinging in the breeze. Yep, that's sounds right, to me.

So far, I'm pretty sure Layla has tried to give me Bird Flu twice in the past two days.

The first time was when I found her happily gnawing on a bird's head. Thankfully, the bird was dead at the time. I was lucky enough to find the rest of the body stuffed under our gas grill. Don't think I'll be cooking any CHICKEN on that thing anytime soon.

The second time was much more terrifying, and, honestly, I'm not ashamed to admit, I got a little hysterical about it....big surprise. Roger and I noticed a baby dove on our pool deck last night. The Momma Dove was keeping vigil close by (I'm assuming it was the Momma Dove, there was only one of them and I feel fairly certain Daddy Dove was in a bar, watching the hockey playoffs and flirting with the waitress. Male traits run rampant through all species, you know.)

Anyway, thinking the baby dove was most certainly deceased, we were delighted to discover it was merely taking a break from the stress of trying to learn how to fly - it MUST be hard, afterall, I mean, can YOU do it? I didn't think so.

So, Roger grabbed his gloves and moved baby bird to a fenced in side of our yard where he'd be protected from Layla as well as any neighborhood feline assasins. We hoped for the best, but we've been here before and were expecting the worst.

The next morning, Youngest Son ran outside to check on baby bird and couldn't find him, so we assumed he'd made his way back to the safety of the nest, and, believe it or not we were RIGHT, in a way...baby bird, proving that doves are not the brighest of our feathered friends, made his way to one of our fenced in flowerbeds, this one filled with ferns.

How do I know this you might ask? First I noticed Momma dove, who, this time was accompanied by I'm SURE a very hung over and hen-pecked (ha!) Daddy dove, were hanging around said fern bed. Then, I noticed Layla was paying particular attention to this flower bed and, ANOTHER CLUE was, she kept lunging through the fencing at something. But, the biggest clue of ALL was when I saw baby bird pick the ABSOLOUTE WORST time to try an escape attempt.

He started flapping around in the bed. Layla lost her mind and charged into the bed, going THROUGH the fencing AND a pretty thorny rosebush (please see aforementioned posts about Layla referencing her beauty and obvious LACK of brainpower). She grabbed baby bird in her mouth and high-tailed it for the other side of the yard.

I ran outside, screaming commands like "DROP IT" (which, amazingly she DID) and "LEAVE IT" (which, even more amazing, she did) and "COME HERE" (I almost had to sit down when she obeyed THAT one). I got Layla locked in the house, had a brief moment of hysterics, pulled myself together and did the right thing...I called Roger. Nevermind that he's trying to wind up the school year and has 21 students, hyped to the gills with the prospect of summer vacation, he needed to be made aware of the crisis at home.

Now, before you start telling me how ridiculous that was, let me just tell YOU, you don't KNOW from ridiculous. Once, when our beloved Golden Retriever, Dammit It Maggie, brought a baby bird INTO THE HOUSE, I called Roger and made him come home....he was working in Downtown Dallas at City Hall at the time. See, I'm almost 46 years old, and I've never dealt with ANYTHING like this myself. Nope, my Daddy and Roger have always been there to handle these little unpleasantries, and I truly believe that's the way God intended it.

Well, Roger couldn't come home from work (SOMEBODY needs to rearrange their priorities, I'm just saying), so I sucked it up, got his gloves and proceeded to move baby bird to safety under a MONSTROUS Lady Banksia Rose which rules our side yard. It's probably a very safe place, seeing as how I'm fairly certain Jimmy Hoffa's been hiding out there for YEARS.

All in all, it worked out allright...but I'm thinking of reporting Momma & Daddy Dove for child endangerment...anybody have the number for BBPS (baby bird protective services?)

I've posted before about my Mother's battle with the Demon Alzheimer's - God and I are gonna have a little face-to-face talk about this particular disease if I ever get to Heaven, which, is probably a good indication that I won't get to Heaven..and if I DO manage to slip in, I'm sure I won't be staying long.

When I made my Daily Daddy Call this morning he waited until the end of the conversation for the ambush. "What are you doing this afternoon?" Lord, right then I knew I was trapped. I've told y'all before what a total reprehensible, ungrateful, loser of a daughter I am, right? That I don't do NEAR enough for my parents and should be taken out somewhere and beaten to a pulp, or at the very least be FORCED to attend lengthy band performances, complete with unending descriptive narrative from really enthusiastic band leaders. And really, THAT'S not even a harsh enough punishment for me.

Now, my father doesn't feel this way about me, but he doesn't have to...I've practiced Guilt Assumption my entire life and I am proud to say I have reached the level of Guilt Assumption Master. I draw guilt to me the way some mythical super-heroes draw super-powers. We're talking a veritable Human Guilt Sponge...if there's Guilt anywhere in the area, I will suck it up and incorporate it as my OWN. I am truly awesome in this regard and probably in need of serious counseling, and possibly medication, which would actually be NICE. But, on to my upcoming afternoon with Momma.

Daddy has a doctor appointment this afternoon with the dermotologist who literally, saved his nose. Daddy had a rampant basal cell cancer that, I kid you not, had eaten a majority of his nose and didn't look like it was gonna get tired of the nasal buffet. Two doctors performed separate operations and now my father has a nose that, truthfully looks a whole heck of a lot better than the one he was BORN with.

Of course, in true Daddy fashion, he stated loud and clear, that both doctors are incompetent know-nothings and didn't have a CLUE how to proceed until he TOLD them what to do. Uh huh, my father was a BANKER; one of these doctors is a respected dermatologist, and the other is a noted plastic surgeon. Thank GOD Daddy was able to instruct them in the intricate and delicate procedures needed to diagnose and treat his condition. In my opinion, BOTH doctors should receive Humanitarian Medals for not tossing my Dad out on his half-eaten face and the fact that they are STILL willing to have him as a patient speaks to their committment to their professions...or maybe they're really just not real bright - whatever.

Anyway, Daddy has an appointment with "DumbAss Dermotologist" this afternoon for a spot on his ear that he "can't clear up on his own". Huh...imagine that...skin cancers aren't cured by hydrogen peroxide and a band-aid....who knew?

He's dropping Momma off at my house so I can watch her and he can go to his appointment relatively stress free. I COULD just meet him at the Doctor's office, but Daddy always makes ME go in with him and, there we sit, all three of us, (four counting the doctor), with Momma asking her never-ending questions, Daddy being an obnoxious pain and me, with no chair to sit in to stave off my inevitable loss of consciousness that's bound to happen when the doctor removes whatever it is that's growing on Daddy's ear. If I insist on staying in the waiting room, Momma will proceed to talk, LOUDLY, about other people in the room...as in "WHOO-EEE, do you see how FAT that woman is?"; and "What is WRONG with that man's FACE - he sure is UG-LY!!" Now, I'm not saying that can't be AMUSING, but, you really need to be about half-tanked before it's funny....otherwise, it's just MORTIFYING.

So, Daddy will deliver Momma to my house this afternoon, sometime...knowing Daddy, a 4:15 appt. to HIM means he has to be at the doctor's office at 3:00, so he'll probably have Momma here by 2:00 just in case there's a MAJOR traffic jam in the mile long, neighborhood drive to the doctor's office.

The challenges this afternoon will be many:

First, I have to keep Layla off of Momma - for Momma's protection AND Layla's. See, Momma has NO problem smacking the snot out of Layla if she thinks Layla's bothering her too much. It's not that I'm afraid Layla would react to that and try to hurt Momma, but, more that I don't want Layla hurt.

Second, I have to make sure Momma stays in the house and doesn't wander outside and, God Forbid, fall in the pool or down the front steps. I can lock those doors in a way she can't unlock, so we're pretty safe there; and

FINALLY, I have to make sure Momma only eats things that are EDIBLE. In true childlike fashion, Momma has regressed to the point where she tries to eat EVERYTHING, including mustard and ketchup out of the ice box and even cleaning products if she can get her hands on them. I think I'm covered on THAT one, too...I'm gonna sit her down at the kitchen table and just load her up with all manner of junk foods....cookies, fried cherry pies, honey buns and, my secret weapon - the Chocolate Of The Gods, my youngest brought me from Disney's BelgiumLand. I mean it - I'm bringing out the Big Guns.

After the pig-fest, Momma might not be interested in her dinner - but that's too bad. I never said I fight fair - I fight to win and, after all, War Is Hell.

As I've said before, God, in His wisdom has chosen to bless me with two sons. Which, is a good thing, because, I am NOT cut out to be the mother of girls. The whole girly thing just leaves me
mystified, and honestly, I think whining should be grounds for lethal injection.

I once, honest to God, got into a Whine-Off with a bratty 4 year old girl I was teaching in Vacation Bible School. Here I was supposed to be teaching her about God's love for her and I spent the majority of the class-time one day trying to out-whine her. It's not something I'm proud of, but, there you go. I know ALL girls aren't whiny, bratty, little fashion obsessed shop-o-ramas, but who wants to risk it?

Anyway, my boys are not only good people, they're incredibly thoughtful and considerate. They've inherited those traits from their father, not me, and I wish, just ONCE, somebody would argue that point with me, but, I'm not holding my breath.

Recently, my youngest went on a band trip to Disney Whatever (I can never remember which one is World and which one is Land....this was the one in Florida - whichever). He had a wonderful time, not surprising, and he brought back souvenirs for me, his daddy and his brother, VERY SURPRISING.

Not only did he take the time to BUY us souvenirs, he bought us souvenirs we'd actually LIKE...I mean, this kid put some thought into this. He bought his dad a Mickey Mouse T-shirt, and his brother a sword with an eye patch and me...well, my gifts were the most wonderful of all. That's right, I said GIFTS, plural....is this kid racking up the inheritance points or WHAT?

My baby boy brought me the BEST gifts..the first one was a pink MINNIE Mouse coffee mug (I've got a real thing for coffee cups/mugs) and the second was *gasp* Belgian chocolate...real high quality chocolate from BelgiumLand or someplace like that. *sigh* Let me just say that I had a sample of that Gift from the Cocoa Gods and it is the BEST chocolate I've ever put in my MOUTH, and there is where my problem begins.

If you've gone waaay back to the first entries on this blog, you know that, around 3 years ago I lost my mind, joined Weight Watchers, and proceeded to lose over 100 pounds. Why? I have NO idea..I was fat and happy and I LOVED eating whatever I wanted, WHENEVER I wanted, HOW EVER DAMN MUCH I wanted. But, lose the weight I did and, as you might imagine, ever since, I've been in mortal fear of "finding" it again.

Now, you don't get 100 pounds overweight without having some, shall we say "food issues", and giving ANY chocolate, not to mention, high quality, "this is what God intended when he invented chocolate" chocolate to someone like me is sort of like giving an alcoholic the keys to the liquor store and offering to hold their purse. I'm saying it's a binge just waiting to happen.

So far, I've done pretty good with only having a small bit of the nectar every day...there was that one day when I had TWO bits, but a piece fell off when I moved the candy bar and I figured it was God's way of telling me my first piece wasn't big enough.

Some of you are probably thinking I should have just refused the candy...told my sweet, precious, incredibly thoughtful, should-be-nominated-for-sainthood son, "No thank you." Uh huh...and I can tell you that YOU obviously suffer from delusions and should seek medical help immediately. No WAY was I turning down that chocolate. I mean, he was so THOUGHTFUL and all and he dragged it home all the way from FLORIDA for crying out loud...so what if it was a little melted...I put it in the icebox and it firmed right up. Like Homer Simpson said, "It's still good, it's still good."

But, the fact remains that the existence of the chocolate is causing me a certain amount of stress and I think, being the kind of mother I am, that youngest son should be repaid in full.

I'm thinking I'm gonna take him and his sweetie to lunch at our local Hooter's restaurant. Yep, that oughta do it - him sitting there with his MOTHER and his GIRLFRIEND, while amply "blessed" women in tee-tiny tube tops serve him his lunch, and he tries to just look them in the EYE.

Oh yeah - Vengence is MINE, sayeth the MOM.