Ditching The Glasses

In Letting Go Of The Glasses I expressed after 35 years of wearing glasses, I was finally ready to try contacts. It's time to ditch the glasses. Two years ago I started wearing bifocals, and they, Air Optix, makes a bifocal contact. How cool is that!

Monday, at my appointment I was fitted for contacts. After watching a short video, it was my turn to try it. With confidence I can do this, quickly turning into how in the world am I going to get this in my eye.

Because I always do things from left to right, I started with my left eye. My reflexes had me squinting, blinking, and letting go of my eye. After 30 minutes, and an irritated left eye, I decided to try the right one. The right eye was proving to be just as difficult as the left.

After 15 minutes, of struggling the nurse suggested I come back another day and practice. With that said, I relaxed and put the right contact in, and a few minutes later the left eye was done. I was determined to leave there wearing contacts, no matter how long it took!

That afternoon when leaving work, things kept looking a bit awkward. I called my husband and told him, one eye wasn't seeing like the other. I went back to the doctor's office, and he made an adjustment. Wa-la... that did the trick.

Later that evening as my eyes started getting tired, it was time to take the contacts out. Again, I started with the left eye. Trying to remove them like the video showed, and the nurse suggested wasn't working.

My dad would say, "there's more than one way to skin a cat," so I called my cousin who's been wearing contacts for long time. She gave me the same advice Krystal Grant did, "Slide the contact down, and to the side (away from your pupil), then pinch it out with your index finger and thumb. After only a few attempts I had both the right, and left contacts out.

Yesterday, I did just as they said and was able to put both contacts in with out incident. I had them in 10 minutes. Last night, no issues, and my eyes weren't irritated and blood shot.

Contacts... another first in my 40s. Now, I want to find a pair of shades. I've NEVER had a pair... NEVER!!!

Bug Appetit

pic 1) Crispy Cajun Crickets, 2) Chocolate Covered Crickets

Saturday, I attended the Arkansas Women Bloggers Meetup, which was held at the Arkansas Museum of Discovery. While I was there, a bug chef was cooking up insect cuisine. And yes, I tried it.  I ate three crickets! 

First, I ate a crispy Cajun cricket, and the chef took the picture (#4). Stephanie, The Park Wife, coaxed me into eating another for a better picture. The first one she took was no good. So I ate another!

I couldn't wait to tell my family, I ate three crickets. Of course, they all thought I was gross. This was definitely a first in my 40s, and a last!

 

Look At Me, I'm Playing Tennis!

Just finished tennis lesson, hot and sweaty!

Since I've was a teenager, I've wanted to play tennis. When Venus and Serena came along, my desire increased. They make it look so easy. Just once, I'd like to grunt like Serena when she returns the ball.

Last summer my girls and I started tennis lessons. After an unfortunate event, and only one practice, my tennis lessons were over. This summer, I jumped on the opportunity. I'm no Venus or Serena, but my coach said I did really well.

Surprised, I was excited at how well I did! Serving the ball was major for me. A little nervous, and didn't think I could completely pull it off. I not only managed to hit it over the net, it landed just where it was supposed to. Woot-woot!   

There were three other ladies, and we played a match. My partner and I won! I can be very competitive, and was trying my best not to celebrate. I realized I'm still a beginner, and next week, they can come back and win. Inside, I was leaping for joy!

My goal is to play in at least one tournament. Is there a amateur, amateur, amateur tournament?  Oh yeah, playing in a tennis tournament, would be another first in my 40s!

No Green Thumb... But I'll Try My Hand

Our house is heavily landscaped, (it came with the house), and I've had NOTHING to do with it. It's very beautiful, and really adds curb appeal. I learned that from HGTV!

Since we moved in nearly 8 years ago, all I've had to do is wait for Spring. The flowers, and greenery just come back. It's done so well without ANY HELP from me, and I'm so grateful.

Last Spring, one area started looking a little... hmmm... how do I put it?! Over grown, maybe? It started becoming over run by everything but pretty.

This Spring... see for your self!


There are a few trees sprouting. Do you see the in the middle of the picture? It's just sitting there like it BELONGS! In addition to the tree, rogue monkey grass, and weeds are taking over. And in the mix there are a few perennials.

Perennial fighting to stay alive. Poor thing!

This year I'm going to make that plot pretty again! This is where I should confess. All but two plants I've EVER had, have died on me. The two that haven't died, I have now. They're not alive because of me. I think they have a STRONG will to live.

Mr. Husband keeps the yard well manicured, and looking very nice. Actually, he's anal about his grass! We CAN NOT walk on it! And I'd like to make a contribution to the beauty of our yard.

I consulted my friend "P," who's is a home and garden expert. She gave me a few tips on beautifying my plot.

• Pull up monkey grass
• Mow & hoe
• Spray Grass Be Gone, and wait a few days
• Add pete moss
• And plant!

Sounds simple enough right? We shall see!

Look At Me, I'm Vlogging

This is my very first time vlogging, so this is like a rough draft. I promise it will get better. And the blinking thing. I don't always blink that much, it's the new glasses. They're making my eyes really tired.

I can't wait to vlog again! Somebody better stop me!

For The Sake OF Beauty?

Saturday, I thought I would treat myself to an eyebrow waxing. I do like to keep them arched, but it had been a while since I'd had them waxed. This wasn't my first time, so I knew what to expect.

Rip. "You want your lip done next?" She asked.

"No."

Actually, I had considered it, but I was scared. Like I said, I've had my eyebrows waxed a few times, and know how it can sting. My lip is more sensitive, and I figured it would hurt.

Rip. There went eyebrow number two. She handed me a mirror, "You like? Want me to do your lip?"

"No, not today.I'm scared." Actually, I was thinking about it. "Okay, lets do it."

"It's gone hurt," she said.

I nodded, okay. Why would she ask, then taunt me. What? She said it a second time, "It's gone hurt. I just want you to know, before I do it."

She spread that hot wax on my top lip, almost up my nose. Pressed on thin strips of gauze like material. I was sweating bullets! Just as I closed my eyes tight, RIIIP. I wanted to gather my things and run like the wind. "I told you, it's gone to hurt."

I wanted her to stop saying that!

There was no turning back now. I had to get the other side done as well. Closing my eyes, I braced myself, as she ripped the other half. Handing me the mirror again, all I could see is red! My lip was swollen, and red.

"First time, it hurt real bad. Second time, not so bad," she tried to console. I just experienced real trauma, and she's talking a second time.

I'm loving my eyebrows, and when the swelling goes down, maybe, just maybe, I'll like my lip minus the fuzz. The price of beauty is a pain in the *%$, lip!

Second Opinion

I've finally made it to post,

(Da, da, da, da.....)

100!

Thank you all for reading, commenting, and lurking.

Back to business, it's my 100th post!

Sorry the picture isn't the best. I tried to lighten it, but you get it right?!

After Christmas, Mr. Husband and I stopped by the mall. Approaching the door, I spotted a flier, Dillard's was having a bra sale. "Bra's $9.99, and up."

I was excited! I'm not too busty, and I thought, surely I could find a few bra's at $9.99.

Here's the thing... I had just about given up on bras! Like pantyhose, I think the bra was a man's idea. A conspiracy to keep a woman DOWNn!

]Sidebar[

In my experience with bras, they've rode up my back, not always held everything while exercising (try step aerobics with a bad fitting bra), and that awful underwire!

Once, an underwire was pocking me so much at work. I went to the bathroom, pulled it out, and went right back to my desk. Little did I know, removing the nuisance would cause the bra to collapse. One breast was up, and the other was down. Last year, I decided, I liked sports bras better. Mr. Husband doesn't seem to think they're sexy!

When seeing the sale sign, I had an idea. Get fitted! Maybe then, I'd know my actual size, and finally get a bra that wouldn't let it all hang out, or over. And I could give the sports bras a rest.

The attendant automatically asked what I was wearing. And I told her, a sports bra. She laughed, and proceeded with the fitting. The verdict... "34 DD, or D," she said.

What?!

I thought she was kidding for sure! Over the years I've worn 32B and C, as well as 34B and C. Surely, not a DD or D! She convinced me I am now more of a full busted woman. I told her I would be back for the sale.

I was disturbed by the findings, and decided to seek a second opinion. In the next couple of days, we'd be in near a Victoria's Secret. My plans were to pop in there, get fitted, and then come back and buy the sale bras.

While in Victoria's Secret, my bra specialist, Nikki, (that's her in the picture with me), did her thing. And she also asked, "What are you wearing?"

A sports bra, I told her. And she said that was unacceptable. There are no excuses, for wearing a sports bra on a regular basis. What ever! I'm too old to worry about pushing them up, I want comfort.

Her verdict... a 32B, and she wanted me to try something on. I frowned a little. I knew 32B was wrong, and all I wanted was to be fitted. But I tried on a 32B, Angels Air Push-Up. Didn't work! We then tried 34B, Angels Air Push-Up, it fit better, but no prize.

Finally, I tried on the BioFit, and Body by Victoria! There were fireworks, bells, and whistles! Yes! Full coverage, and sexy. My mind was changed, I no longer wanted to go buy the sale bras, at Dillard's. All I ever want again is the BioFit, and Body by Victoria!

Oh wait, halt... deal breaker, UNDERWIRE. "After two washings, the underwire will start coming out," I told Nikki.

She looked at me as if I had a third eye, in the center of my head. "You don't put good bras in the washer! Wash them on your hand, and hang them up to dry."

I left armed with a little pink card, with my bra size, the bras I liked checked off, and Nikki's name and number. I was satisfied.

My Thanksgiving Pies

Another 40s First!

My very first pecan pie! Actually there were two. The other was missing almost ALL of the pie.

My husband had the first taste, only minutes out of the oven. He gave me a Hi-5. My daughter got the next piece, and my Dad had a thin slice, (just in case it wasn't good). Daddy gave me "the nod," when he asked for a second, larger piece.

My family can be harsh when it comes to their picky tastes.

Usually, for family gatherings, they look for me to make a punch bowl cake. Not this year. I wanted to try my hand at pecan pies. Although they liked my pies very well, (there was NONE left), they missed the punch bowl cake.

No, I didn't use an old family secret recipe. I used the recipe from the package of pecans:

3 eggs
1 c. sugar
1 c. light corn syrup
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 c. pecan halves
2 (9 in) unbaked or frozen pie crusts (not deep dish)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat eggs, sugar, syrup, butter and vanilla until well blended. Stir in pecans. Pour into pie crusts. Bake pie on a cookie sheet 50-55 minutes or until a knife into the center of pie comes out clean. Let cool. Serve at room temperature.

As simple as that!

Flying Alone

Last weekend was my fifth time ever flying, and I did it alone.

I drove myself 40 minutes to the airport. Making it past the check point without being strip searched, relaxed me a little, breathing was easier. Although I was in compliance, I was ready just in case. You know clean and matching underwear, and lotioned from head to toe! Your parents tell you to wear clean underwear in case of emergency. What they fail to tell is make sure you're not ashy!

I felt like a big girl. That was until I realized my seat "A," was A.Window.Seat! The up side was being right behind first class. The leg room was awesome!

Note to self: Don't fly first class. It's a total waist of money! We were separated by only a curtain, that no one closed. There's NO party going on up there. And who wants a germ infested pillow, someone else has had. Ewww!

On the first leg of the trip, I was in seat "A," and a very stoic older gentleman sat in "C." Relief, "B" was empty. There was no awkward closeness.

Take off felt like a roller coaster ride, how it gets your stomach. I hate roller coasters, for that reason. I'm praying, praying, praying. I look over at Mr. Stoic, and he appears to be praying too. That's a good thing!

Finally, leveling off, I was raised the window, a few inches at a time. The clouds were absolutely beautiful! It looked like a sea of white. As far as the eye could see, mountains of clouds.

Then we descend, a roller coaster, again!

Boarding the second plane, we walked down stairs and through a door leading to... outside. What?!? In the four times I've previously flown, I never walked outside! Waiting through door ONLY ONE was a toy plane. Again, I'm by the window. Shade Down!

For the second time, first class was a rip-off. There was not even a curtain. The only perk was they got to board first. Big Deal!

This time, I'm uncomfortably close the woman sitting in "B." I smell her perfume. She's way too close!

The plane was so small, there was not even a flight attendant. The co-pilot walked the floor making seat checks. I'm so not kidding!

As the plane started to taxi toward the runway, there was a weird burning smell coming through the vents. S-l-o-w-ing down, STOP! An announcement from the cockpit followed, we would be returning to the terminal, for maintenance to check the plane. Actually, we changed plans, Thank God.

Up in the air, and over the wild blue yonder, second attempt at lift off was successful! Once again, I was mesmerized by the clouds. Once over St. Louis, I peered out the window, at lines, grids, and plots along the ground. Tree tops looked like broccoli florets, where cars look like ants marching.

My first time flying by myself, wasn't so bad. Although, I'd rather travel with someone I know, whose fragrance I'm familiar with.

Pickles Anyone?

The saying, the longer you live, the more you learn, is so true!!!

Growing up, I ate a wealth of homemade canned jams, jellies, cha-cha (chow chow), pickles, both grandmothers made. Although I ate a lot of it, I can't say I ever helped make any. That was until yesterday.

My girls and I set out to make kosher pickles. I guess you can call it another first. We had the little cucumbers just for pickling, and a recipe. The recipe called for vinegar, dill, garlic cloves and pickling salt. Saturday, while grocery shopping, I looked for the pickling salt. Of course my Wal-Mart didn't have ANY! They had jars and plenty of gelatin for making jelly, but no pickling salt!

Tuesday, was 'The Day,' for making pickles. I ran ALL OVER TOWN, literally, to find pickling salt. We stopped at five stores: two discount stores, a spice store, and two grocery stores. They were either all out, or didn't carry it. The last stop, Brokshire's grocery store, I almost LOST MY MIND! I walked down isles, after isles looking for the canning stuff, because that's where it would be.

I then started looking for someone to ask. There seemed to be no one tending the store, only checkers, and baggers. It was then about 2:30 in the afternoon, and I hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. I was getting a headache, and think I was becoming hypoglycemic, and very agitated.

Finally I asked a checker, she sent me to the seasoning isle, where I knew it wasn't. But went back ANY WAY. I then ran down a bagger boy, who was riding an electric cart back inside. He had no idea what I was asking about. He (we) walked in circles for about two minutes and then he said something very smart. "I don't know what it is, or where it would be. How about I call someone for you." I could have kissed him.

Bagger boy, paged. No response. Paged again. Still one one responded. "I'll be back," he said. And he disappeared behind the double doors. Eight minutes later, (yes I counted), someone who actually tends the store came walking up. He didn't have a clue either. We went on a scavenger hunt, and by happen-stance, on the chip isle . . . "TaDa," the canning stuff. There was pickling salt! I got the other things on that list, and finally went home.

At home we prepared our space, and were ready to make pickles. As the girls measured ingredients, I had to taste this pickling salt. With all the fuss, I was curious to know its flavor. Was it tart, spicy, tangy? I imagined bitter.

It was SALT. Plain old, run of the mill, iodized, SALT! I went all over town, to five different stores, looking for SALT! OMG! If I had known it was just SALT, I would have use what I had. It wasn't the stuff with the little seeds. That's pickling spice. There is a difference!

Finally, we made our brine, that's the salt, vinegar and water mixture after it's boiled. Poured it over our cucumbers in the huge jar along with the dill and garlic. In eight weeks, we'll eat kosher pickles. No matter what they taste like, the experience with my girls was worth the aggravation!

I have a 4 lb. box of canning and pickling salt. Let's see, what esle can I pickle?

Another First In My 40s

Yahoooooooooooooo - I have finger nails!!!

For Mother's Day, Mr. Husband gifted me a mani-pedi. And of course I blogged about it. At 40, it was my very first pedicure.

After wearing a set of acrylic nails for the past month, my own have grown! In all my 41 years, I have NEVER had my very own finger nails. NEVER!

As young as I can remember, until about 12 years ago, I bit my nails. I wanted finger nails, but I could not control the habit of biting them. Even after trying a few unorthodox methods, that I care not to divulge, I continued to bite them. Once as a kid, my mother painted my nails with a bitter polish that was designed to detour kids from biting their nails, and sucking their thumbs. My aunt was also using it on my thumb sucking cousin. Needless to say, he kept sucking, and I kept bittting, carefully. I made sure my lips and tongue never touched my fingers. It was all teeth! The mental picture of it now, cracks - me - up!

Moving into my teens years, I wanted polished finger nails like the other girls. I thought, if I painted my nails, they'd be pretty, and it would keep me from biting them. That didn't happen either. Fact: finger nail polish DOES NOT look good on nubs! And the habit was still greater than the want! Not only did I not have nails, my hands are wrinkly. My kids say I have "Grandma" hands. Even as a kid, my hands were wrinkled.

Over the years, I'd try again, and again to grow nails. It never lasted more than two or three days. Without thinking about it, I'd bite my nails. For my wedding, I had nubby nails, with a coat of clear polish. I didn't want to call any attention to my nubby nails, and wrinkled hands.

Once someone told me "If you had nails, your ugly hands wouldn't look so bad." Whatever! The truth hurts, stings, and kicks major ass!

In my twenties, I was working on a television show. Having to do some background work, I interview a lady who was a hypnotist. She talked about how most of our behaviors, like nail biting, is learned behavior. All we have to do is unlearn them.

Okay, that mades a lot of sense. I was skipping along, as if she was the Pied Piper. Then she gave me an exercise to UNLEARN nail biting.

Per her instructions, I put a rubber band around my wrists, (the thick ones that come on the newspapers.) Every time I caught myself biting my nails, I popped myself with that rubber band. THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!! The inside of your wrist is sensitive!

Thinking back, I'm sure I looked crazy. A grown @#$ woman walking around with thick rubber bands on her wrist. And it wasn't the style then either. Now every one is wearing rubber bands around their wrist with one message or another. NOT ME! Stupid me. I tried that for maybe two weeks. Of course my husband thought it was carzy.

I finally stopped biting my nails, (no thanks to the rubber bands), and started pulling them off instead, and have been doing so since.

I've had acrylic finger nails before, maybe twice. And as soon as they came off, so did the thin nails that grew underneath. What's different this time? I have no idea. They're not long, just barely clearing the skin, and I like them. I ran out and bought emery boards, a nail buffer, clear polish, and polish remover.

My middle daughter asked what's wrong with me, and what did I do with her mother? She says I'm trying to be cute and hip. There is nothing wrong, and I'm the same person. I guess this caterpillar is finally getting her wings.

A First At 40

As indicated in my post “My Mother’s Day Wish List,” all I wanted was a manicure and a pedicure. I got my wish!

Friday, Mr. Husband took me for a manicure, and my very first pedicure. I was so excited and couldn’t stop smiling! In all of my 40 Years, I have NEVER had a pedicure.

I was lead to a massage chair, where I was directed to place my feet in the footbath of warm slightly sudsy water. Sitting there I struggled to read my notes from the “31 Day Challenge to Build a Better Blog,” http://www.problogger.net/31-days-to-build-a-better-blog-join-9100-other-bloggers-today/. Finally, I had to yield to the relaxation that was overcoming me. I put my paper and pen down, and enjoyed the full experience!

My toenails were clipped, and the bottom of my feet shaved. OMG! I thought since I had used a pedegg, all the cheese from my feet had been removed. (See “A Cheese Grater For Your Feet” http://www.junkdrawerblog.com/2009/02/a-cheese-grater-for-your-feet.html
I was hoping no one was looking at my foot crap, like I watched the lady’s in the next spa chair. Gross!!!

Next came the sugar exfoliating rub, and the pumice stone. It tickled a bit, but I hung in there. Afterwards, Brian, my Asian mani/pedi – curist, massaged my feet and legs with the creamiest lotion/cream. Who cares what it was, it felt great! I was ready for a nap, he was working his magic.

Scanning a mental calendar in my head, I searched to find a date for my next pedicure. I remembered an article I’d recently read on how to save money. One way was to cut out an addiction, or costly habits. I not a shop-aholic, don’t smoke, or don’t drink. Well, I don’t drink alcohol. I do consume quiet a bit of Coca-Cola. Figuring if I cut back on a few Cokes a week, I could pay for a manicure a month.

Reality set in… am I ready to give up Coke for pedicures? I’ll get back to you on that!

Mr. magic hands, Brian finished the pedicure by giving my toes a French polishing. I’m not one who thinks feet are pretty. For crying out loud, they’re feet! We walk around on them, and stuff them in shoes. Pretty? Not.

Like an ugly person, you can dress feet up, and make them look nice. My feet look near pretty.

This summer, I will be a toes bearing, sandal wearing mama!