A Chill Wind

Schools out for summer!

Well, the blog was fun while it lasted.

I’ll see you all in Sept.

Alice Cooper – School’s Out For Summer

Help Me Jesus!

UPDATE:

The “5 second rule” has already been utilized twice in the kitchen.

This is going to be a long summer.

Barbara Poops Out

One more story about Memphis:

Halfway into our trip, Barbara decided to kick the bucket. She had been indispensable to me, ( profoundly directionally challenged gal that I am), and was always a good sport, stoically putting up with our light hearted teasing.

“I can give you a better route,” Barbara would intone.

“Ha ha, settle down, Babs, we’re just getting off the interstate to get some gas”. I’d laugh.

“Recalculating!”

In case you haven’t already guessed, “Barbara” is our GPS unit, and I love her.

But Sunday morning she didn’t want to cooperate. The Feis didn’t begin for us until 12:00 noon, (very unusual, feisanna usually start at 8:30 on a Sat. morning). I guess they were giving people time to go to church, which was good, because last Sunday was Pentecost, and it was also Memorial Day weekend, and all church going people needed to be in church praying for our soldiers.

So, I got the address of the nearest Catholic church from the Hotel clerk and headed to the van with the girls. I had my oldest daughter give Barbara the address, while I tried to back out, which was really tricky because it was a very crowded parking lot, and I have a bigass conversion van, and there was a truck parked right behind me. And Barbara was saying there was no such street in Memphis, (now I realize this was because we weren’t in Memphis proper). So my daughter rather abruptly tore her off her stand, so she could work with her more comfortably on her lap, but she wouldn’t work off of her stand, and we couldn’t get her to lock back into it.

Tick tick tick….8:55….8:56….8:57….

Things were getting desperate, and the more stressed Nice Deb gets, apparently, the less adept she gets at pulling out of tight parking spots….which didn’t matter at this point anyway because I didn’t know where I was going.

8:58….8:59….9:00 (mass time) …9:01…9:02….9:03…

After fiddling for what seemed an eternity, we got Barbara back in her slot, but she refused to work.

So this is my public confession that I didn’t go to church last Sunday. I felt terrible, but the girls were rather cheerful about it.

My husband thinks he knows what to do to fix her, he has a friend that works for Garman.

Graceland Part two

souveniersWell, the most noteworthy stuff actually happened while we were waiting in line for the shuttle. I didn’t really find the house to be all that impressive. I had expected everything to be much bigger.
The first thing I noticed was the house’s low ceilings. I understand, Elvis. My house was built in the 1930’s, too, before builders figured out you could make a room look twice as big by giving it a high ceiling.

The decor was very shlocky, a lot of fur, mirrors, a jungle room(!). The kitchen had dark cabinets like mine, (and you should all know how I feel about my kitchen, by now), and was a decent size (bigger than mine, that’s for sure) but not enormous like many of today’s kitchens are. (That’s his kitchen on the cover of the recipe booklet shown in the picture). His appliances were harvest gold, which was the standard in the ’70’s.

He had a lot of rooms, but they were all fairly modest sized rooms. Not what I was expecting at all. Even his pool was quite small, about the size of my pool, only with a diving board. Lisa Marie played on a swing set not unlike the ones you and I played on. Nothing fancy.

The walls were lined with all of his platinum records, scores of them; and there was a room with clothing displays from his wedding, and concerts. You know, judging from the size of those jumpsuits, even in Elvis’ later years, he never really got that fat. He probably just looked kind of bloated when the outfits got a little tight, but they weren’t very large jumpsuits. (Again, not as big as I thought!)

graveElvis built his Meditation Garden in the mid sixties as a place for quiet contemplation. The bodies of Elvis and his mother were moved here in Oct. ’77, after security threats at his original resting place of Forest Hill Cemetery in Memphis. Also buried there are his father, and Minnie Mae, his grandmother. There is also a marker for Elvis’ stillborn baby brother. There were displays of flowers and stuffed animals at each grave; I’m not sure how they decided which ones to display from the scores of memorial gifts that have been sent to the King over the years.

Elvis was described by all as a very humble, thoughtful, and courteous man.

How many people make it to that level of stardom, and can still be described that way?

I came away from the visit with a new appreciation and fondness for the man… and oh… a few cheesy souvenirs, too.

Adam Gadahn Sounds Like a Valley Girl

This pudgey little weasel deserves a swift kick in the ass.

An American member of Al-Qaeda warned in an Internet video that US President George W. Bush should withdraw all his troops from Muslim land or face attacks worse than September 11.

Adam Gadahn, a convert to Islam who has been indicted for treason by a US jury, issued a list of demands and warned they were not up for negotiation.

“Your failure to heed our demands means that you and your people… will experience things that will make you forget all about the horrors of September 11, Afghanistan and Iraq, and Virginia Tech,” he said in the video posted on Tuesday.

“You’re losing on all fronts and losing big time,” said Gadahn, who is the English-language spokesman for Osama bin Laden’s terror network. (emphasis mine).

Harry Reid would concur. BIG TIME.

I found it interesting that he mentioned the Virginia Tech shootings in the same breath as, Sept. 11, Afghanistan, and Iraq.

Graceland (part one)

We almost skipped it because the girls slept in so late, and I wanted to get home at a decent hour, but the girls really moved once they were up, and really seemed to want to go….so we checked out of the hotel at 11:00 am. and were boarding the shuttle to take us to the mansion by 12:00 pm.

After we bought the tickets, and were waiting to board the shuttle, we went to the ice cream parlor and got milkshakes, which came in commemorative black Elvis cups that I was determined to keep, and bring home.

While we were waiting in the shuttle line, a security dude came by and told us we wouldn’t be able to bring the milkshakes on the shuttle; we could keep the cups, but we’d have to finish the milkshakes. Well, dammit these milkshakes were huge, and I had just spent 20 Cupsbig ones on the four shakes and one soft pretzel, (which we shared). We all started slurping our shakes as fast as we could, which sort of took the enjoyment out of the treat, you know what I’m saying? My youngest panicked when she saw a shuttle approaching, and threw the rest of hers away in the nearest trash can. The rest of us managed to finish, but now I was stuck holding four sticky, drippy cups for the tour. And that shuttle wasn’t for us, so we got to wait a little longer.

Oh! I almost forgot to mention the people standing in front of us. Three Scandis! Two women, a butch, dumpy ‘Rosie’ type, and a thin, straggly haired tattooed one wearing… get this… a spaghetti strapped dress with a low back revealing her not strapless bra. It was not hot, WP, you would not hit that. She also smelt strongly of BO. My oldest was sniffing our armpits, going, “who smells like BO?” I had to gesture towards the woman, “pssst, stupid, it’s her.” The third Scandi was a dude dressed up like Elvis. Yep. An Elvis, hanging out with these two chicks, and speaking some Germanic language. Weird, weird weird! In all fairness, he was a better Elvis than the one at the ceili the night before.

The security dude came back and hassled my eleven year old a little. “Ahm afraid we cain’t let you in wearing that shirt.”

She was wearing an AC/DC shirt.

“Heh heh”, we laughed nervously. “Good one.”

He hung around us for a while and chatted, which was fine, but he overstayed his welcome.

“Well, ya’ll have a good time on the tour,” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry, we will!”

More chatting…..

“Well, ya’ll enjoy the tour, now.”

“Yep.”

More chatting….

“Well, ya’ll enjoy the tour.”

“LEAVE US ALONE!!!!” Okay, I didn’t say that, but I was thinking it.

Soon, we moved up the line, got our pictures taken, were given our headsets, and boarded the shuttle. We were on our way to Graceland!

……to be continued.

Garden Blogging

wet gardenI got a wild hair up my arse today and splurged on some cube steaks for dinner tonight. I had sides of potatoes and salad. Everyone commented that the salad was especially good. “What did you do different in the salad, today, mom?”

“Well, how about home grown lettuce, radishes, and green onions fresh from the garden?”

Actually, the green onions aren’t ready to pick yet, but I knocked a couple over while I was hoeing today, so I threw them in with the lettuce and radishes.

My garden almost wasn’t this year. I had a veggie garden for the first time in several years, last year. I had gotten discouraged in the past from critters eating everything, and from year after year of unsuccessful tomatoes, (I have walnut trees). But completely by accident, last summer, I discovered an area of the yard that is far enough away from the walnut trees not to be affected. So I was able to grow tomatoes for the very first time in 10 years, successfully. Late in the summer, however, the critters had discovered its bounty, and had started helping themselves to everything they could get their paws on, including my tomatoes. The culprits? Rabbits, raccoons, and woodchucks. The damn woodchucks will take big bites right out of your pumpkins.

I’ve always resisted getting a fence, because it seemed like too much of a hassle and expense, but this year, when I saw my lettuce, and my peas (that I planted in March) getting eaten every day, never making it more than a couple of inches off of the ground before getting nibbled down to stubs, I decided to make my husband put up a fence.

Wow, what a difference it made. You could see the results almost immediately, my lettuce actually started growing, and the tomatoes that I had started from seed indoors, and were going nowhere, started shooting up. My husband went out at night with a flashlight to check on the garden for several nights in a row after he put up the fence. The rabbits were out there circling the garden trying to figure out a way to get in. The little bastids!

My peas were goners so I planted green beans in their place.

Should have put up the fence a long time ago.

And now, thankfully, we are starting to enjoy fresh veggies from the garden.

Back From Memphis

Whew, 8 hours of driving can take a lot out of ya…especially if you started off tired. I knew it was going to be a long trip back home, when my eyes started feeling heavy only one hour into the trip.

One thing I noticed on the road was alot of ‘support the troops’ yellow ribbon decals on the back bumpers of cars, especially in southeastern MO. I only saw a couple of moonbatty bumperstickers. That was encouraging.

Anyway, I’m not even unpacked yet, but the kids are in bed, and I’m enjoying a glass of wine while I get caught up on the blogs.

How’d the girls do in their dance competitions, you ask? Well, the youngest ones, not so hot. They both placed in only one dance, but hey, winning isn’t everything. My oldest came home with three 1st place trophies, two 2nds, and one 4th. So, a good day for her. She’s an absolute monster in her hard shoe dances.

After the feis , we went to the ceili, where the girls danced some more in a fun social environment.

And guess who was there to entertain? You’ll never guess, this being Memphis, and all.

Elvis!!! That’s who! An Elvis impersonator, that is. An Elvis impersonator with plucked eyebrows, and a strange, sort of ‘too many cosmetic procedures’ kind of face. But the kids didn’t seem to mind. They all screamed with glee when he started singing Hounddog and threw stuffed hounddogs into the crowd. My youngest kept trying and trying to catch one to no avail. He finally bent down and just handed her one. That made the whole trip for her.

And yes, we did take the time to go visit Graceland before we came home, today. I’ll do a post about Graceland tomorrow, maybe, with pictures.

I’m Outta Here

Like I mentioned on that other blog of Wickedpinto’s, I’m leaving for the weekend. We are headed for Memphis for an Irish Dance competition first thing in the morning. Not me, sillies, my girls. I just watch.

Wish them luck!

Proud To Be An American (Revised Version)

For all the brave men and women serving this country in the military.

Even though half the country seems to be off it’s rocker, and our politicians are letting us down, we can still be proud. Proud of these folks who represent the very best of us.

Sloppy Joes For Dinner

Obligitory Rosie Post

So, she’s leaving The View, and I heard somewhere that she may even stop doing her website.

And I just started blogging yesterday. What did I do now, God?

And was it my imagination, or did I hear on the news this morning that Rosie’s writer from The View was fired because she was caught drawing mustaches on pictures of Elisabeth?

Too much.

UPDATE

Aha! I don’t know if she was fired, but apparently she was “escorted from the building.” Rosie also may have “trashed” her dressing room, but ABC denies that.

What do you want to bet that her dressing room is kinda trashy, anyway?

Blogging Is Hard

How am I supposed to think up interesting topics everyday to write about? I’m a commenter. I comment on other people’s blogs. I don’t know what I’m going to write about each and every day…and what if I have to leave town? Like this weekend?

Maybe I’ll just post pictures now and then. That seems easier. I have my old modeling pictures…those might work.

UPDATE

I think I fixed it so people can comment now, without the delay, thanks to Geoff.

Andy McCarthy vs. The Wall Street Journal

Andrew McCarthy has a reasonable approach:

How can as smart a guy as Paul Gigot say something as stupid as that we wing-nuts at NR want to “harass” businesses as part of our “enforcement first agenda”? The WSJ cares a lot more about business than I do. I’d like to see the law followed by everyone, but I don’t have an agenda related to business other than, I suppose, that I’d like to see some honesty from the pro-business lobby — I’d like to hear them acknowledge that they want illegal workers because it is a way around paying the prohibitive wages they’d have to pay Americans to do the same jobs (even as business rolls over and plays dead while another economically irrational raising of the minimum wage is enacted).

But here’s what really fries me. I don’t want to kick the illegals out of the country. I’m not a restrictionist; I believe, if thoughtfully regulated, immigration is good for the United States. I prefer legal immigration, but you’d have to be an idiot not to concede that a substantial portion of the illegal population is comprised of good, hard-working people — the kind we’d love to have here legitimately.

I also happen to think DHS Sec’y Mike Chertoff is one of the brightest, ablest guys I’ve ever met; he’s as committed as anyone to fighting terrorists and other bad guys. I have the same feeling about Senator Kyl. These are died in the wool national security guys. If they say they think we need legalization because we need to know who is in the country and that that can only realistically be done with some kind of legalization process, that, to me, is a serious argument for legalization. (Although, I must say, it’s long been important to know who is in the country, so I’d love to know why the illegal population has been allowed to explode, rather than being scrutinized and reduced, since 9/11.)

Read the whole thing.

I don’t know about you, but I’m growing weary of the SKY IS FALLING, George Bush is destroying the Republican party, they’re all traitors, everything is going to go to hell in a handbasket approach to the Immigration Reform Bill.

I don’t like it either, but people need to simmer down.

Make your displeasure known without the hyperbole, please.

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