Where To Begin...It Was A LONG Day...

Toni, this one is for you.

I am really not sure where to begin. If you don't have an hour or the inclination, just stop reading now, because there is just no short way to put this. Believe me, I tried.

I guess I will just start with the moment I opened my eyes this morning. Well actually, the dream that lead me to open my eyes. I was alone in an unfamiliar, European style city, that in retrospect, I believe must have been New Orleans. It was a jumbled mess of a dream that centered around people in costumes, sewage, a pink fringe, flapper style, skirt that was missing most of the fringe and was 3 sizes too big, an attack by mutant squirrels that left me wondering if I was up to date on my rabies shots and if it was a bad thing that I was not feeling the pain as the creatures teeth sunk deep into the flesh of my left arm. Thinking the squirrel was just misunderstood, I attempted to pet him, as I continued to walk with him dangling from my arm. This spurred his accomplice into action and left me fighting off two jumbo sized rodents. Just then, as another sewage line burst, like a fire hydrant full of doodie, my eyes opened, and so began the day.

The events that followed were far less violent and disgusting, but eventful all the same. Liila had an appointment for her yearly shots and check up at the vet, which went well. A few shots and a display of her strong will and strong muscles later, we were out the door and headed toward the interstate for home. This is when Ma decided that she would, indeed, call the hair salon, where we had been on Monday, to try to get the girl who had cut her hair to correct some of the damage she had done. She didn't want to call. But, the cut wasn't right. The salon had set her up with this new stylist when her old new one, (who took the place of her old, old, new one who was on maternity leave, who took the place of her old, old, old, one who ripped her off every time, but was "sweet" so she would not change, left to go to a new place where she thought she could charge the same amount and keep more of the money) was "no longer employed" there, and though the newest stylist talked a good game she did not have the talent to back it up, and Ma was left with, what she felt, was a terrible hair cut, that made her feel like she had a mullet. So after much turmoil, as we passed by the salon, she decided to call. They said, yes, for her to come right over and they would fix it. So, we both sighed a sigh of relief and she headed for the door, as Liila and I settled in for our wait. Our wait was surprisingly short. A few minutes later, I looked up to see Ma coming down the stairs of the salon, cheeks red, hair...well, looking the same, headed for the car. I was completely confused, and asked if she had gotten it fixed. Well apparently, the stylist, who was so sweet and friendly on Monday, turned into a bitchy little monster when Ma asked her to take more off the back. (She didn't even mention that the entire cut was all wrong and she hated ever little bit of it.) Needless to say, the girl did not listen to what she was asking. The stylist furiously snipped at a few hairs and then pretty much refused to do anything else. I have been going to this salon for...oh gosh...over 5 years, but I will not be going back and neither will Ma. It was always over priced, but it seemed like a price worth paying to get a better cut, from an experienced stylist. My past several visits to the salon have left me feeling worse about myself walking out, than I did walking in and dreading my next appointment far in advance. Each time, things got a little worse, and Ma's experience today sealed the deal. So, if you know of any really good salons, where the people are pleasant, that aren't over priced or loaded down with bad vibes, and where the stylists are truly experienced and hang around for longer than a day, I would love to hear about them! Meanwhile, I'm thinking of letting my hair grow longer... Just a thought.

So, since it was early afternoon, we dropped Liila off at home, ran by the post office to mail some things and headed to the court house to get my car tags. Ma dropped me off at the door, I ran up the stairs, flung my bag down for the security guards to scan, and walked through the metal detector, that then spring to life with beeps a plenty. Pointing out my jewelry, one guard asked me to walk though again with my arms raised above my head to see if this would solve the problem. Nope. Beeping. The guards look at one another, one settles on an expression and the other seems to understand. He pulls out a big wand thingie and tells me to lift my arms. A woman passes without incident as I stand there, being scanned, like a potential suburban threat in Joe's Jeans. After the guard concluded that it was officially my jewelry causing the beeping and not some nifty homemade shiv, they apologized for the delay and I moved on to the tag office, where I was met with a mishap in billing and a temperamental printer, but eventually got my tags, waved bye to the security guards, ran down the stairs, and hopped in the car. On to the nail salon. We have been getting our pedicures at this salon for several years. Owners have changed, hot stones (which I loved) have been replaced by warm neck pillows and a nice orange tropical punch with frozen punch ice cubes, served in lovely crystal glasses. Since it is a slow time of the year for nails, we are often the only customers and the owner is often the only one working, so we have come to know details of her life and personality. We have bonded over stories of gardens, celebrities, food and family. We have talked about modesty and laughed about thongs. She is a sweet lady. She works really hard. She loves her daughter. Her business is slow. We bonded. So today, as we sat sharing stories, the only customers, her the only one working, we were in no hurry and she was in no rush. That is until two other customers walked through the door asking for pedicures. This was a surprise, and visibly made her nervous, but she needs the business, so after making sure they were in no rush, she asked if they could wait about 30 minutes. They said yes, that they would shop a bit and be back. Content, she went back to work. A few minutes later another girl came through the door wanting a pedicure and acrylic nails, but unlike the others she had a time limit, she had to get to class. In a bit of a panic now, but not wanting to turn away a customer, she began calling everyone she knew to try to get someone to come help her. It seemed hopeless for a while, call after call and then finally she found someone. Her phone rang several times after that. Time passed and help was nowhere to be seen. Another lady came through the door wanting her chipped nail fixed. At this point, she looked around at the salon, now full of people and asked if the lady could come back tomorrow. She said she could. As she finished painting my toes, she hopped up and ran off to do one thing or another and never came back. She had moved on to the girl who had to get to class, which was fine, but what about my top coat? I thought she would come back after the paint had dried a bit and finish them up but she never did. I looked at Ma, who can not read my lips to save either of our lives, and tried to get across the point that I had no top coat. When she finally understood what I was getting at she looked at me like, "well, I'm sorry, you see what all she is dealing with here". Yes, I know but a quick sweep of the brush on each toe and I'm good. Two seconds. Two seconds is all I ask. The top coat is one of the most important parts! Ma just kept mouthing the words "I'm sorry but you aren't getting a top coat. You will just have to do one at home". Please note that if I could paint my own toe nails and not have them turn into a gloppy mess I would be more than happy to do that, but alas I can not. Which is why I have to have them done at a salon. I need that top coat! Well, her help arrived and as the salon buzzed with energy, I resigned myself to the fact that I was not getting a top coat. As the boy who can not work the credit card machine, attempted to work the credit card machine, and the pretty girl with the mask and gloves took it away from him, we paid and left, in summers flip flops, with paper towels rolled and twisted, woven in between our toes, lacking the very important top coat. We had to stop on our way home at the gas station and after standing in the cold, pumping gas, the receipt did not print. The screen flashed, "clerk has receipt". Great. I make my way across the parking lot, flip flops and paper towels fully intact, and ask the clerk for the receipt. Handing me the receipt, she tells me that for the inconvenience, I am welcome to a free soft drink or coffee of any size. I perked up, said thanks and made my way over to the drinks. I decided on a large coffee. I figured Ma and I could pour it into our own cups at home and have plenty to share. As I stood there trying to decided between the medium roast, the dark, the bold, I felt eyes upon me and heard laughter. I know I tend to be paranoid, but this was real! I looked to my left and see four sets of eyes staring right at me and one man behind the counter laughing so hard he was red in the face and could not breathe. I look at them, eyebrow raised in question while the man attempts to explain and act out the scene that he seems to have witnessed. Apparently, while I was contemplating the coffee, I was making a less than attractive and utterly amusing facial expression that left this man breathless with laughter. He tried to explain, but couldn't contain himself long enough to get out the words. All I understood is "I love it!" I have no idea what kind of coffee I ended up getting but, it was hot. Very hot. In the chaos I forgot to get a sleeve for the cup and the one that Ma gave me when I got back into the car did very little to keep it from burning my hand. But after pouring it into our cups at home, it was a nice and unexpected treat. I tried to tell Ma what had happened inside the store, but even I'm not sure. It was a heck of a day. And to think, this was our "day off".

It wasn't until I looked in a mirror that I saw the rash, or burn, or...well who really knows what, on my neck, that I'm guessing was from the warm neck pillow at the nail salon... Whatever.

"Pet rescue. We Deliver."

I didn't think about what I was wearing before I threw the car in park and made my way down a patch of landscaped lawn, on a busy road, right in the middle of town. Not that it would have changed things, but it truly is something to think about before you leave the house. Ma, Liila, and I were just going to a drive-thru for tea (nothing fancy, no need to change), until we saw him. A little Chihuahua, dragging a cord, panting, very close to a major (well major for us) intersection, clearly needed our help! Tons of cars passed, looked at him and kept driving. When I could, I changed lanes, and circled back around to where he was pacing. Before I could get out, Liila started barking like crazy, almost sending the lost little guy into the busy road. Ma and I gasped, rolled up the windows and I hopped out. Unlike "Poodle", this run away was not so sure about me. When I spoke to him, he smiled, but he looked at me with uncertainty. As I was perched there, on the nice green manicured lawn, on the side of the busy road, in the middle of town, talking to this strange little dog, I could feel the eyes upon me. And rightly so. They could not have missed me. There I was, in sharp contrast to the nice green grass, in bright pink, stretched out, Juicy Couture pants, that had belonged to Ma several years ago, a white tee shirt, a string of Tahitian pearls, unbrushed hair, not a drop of makeup and my little Louis Vuitton bag strapped across me, like some sort of disheveled fashion reject who couldn't settle on a dressing theme, trying to coax a strange Chihuahua closer, and having no idea what I would do with him when I got him. When he finally decided that I didn't seem to pose a threat he came closer and I picked up the cord he was dragging. A nice lady stopped and poured our little friend some water, he was timid at first and then drank a good bit before deciding to lick me and plop in my lap. Meanwhile, Ma, who has dubbed herself clairvoyant or psychic, she can't decide, (for your free reading dial 1.800.shecrazy) had a vision of this Chihuahua's life, across the street, in the house, on the hill, in the woods, behind the Steak 'n Shake, so we loaded him into the car, (I had to let her drive...you know the Psychic one) and made our way up a wooded driveway where she jumped out and headed for the door with determination. I was a bit unsure of the whole thing. She knocked. She waited. She rang the bell. She began to fidget. I saw a guy, holding a small child, peak out of the back door and I waved to get Ma's attention. I saw them talking and seemingly getting nowhere, as the man did not appear to speak English, so I got out with the dog to try and show him what she was going on and on about. Sure enough, a look of recognition crossed the man's face, he said something we could not understand, took the dog, inspected his cord, said "ah" and then called the dog what I thought was "Beijing" (though I agree, that makes no sense, seeing as the man appeared to be Hispanic), before he started saying "thank you" many times and headed toward his door. "Beijing" looked back, as if to say "damn it, it is Independence Day, why the hell did you bring me back?" or maybe just "bye guys, thank you!" Then they headed off into the sunset (okay not really, more like the back yard, but whatever), and we drove away wondering where it was we were headed in the first place. Not so clairvoyant after all huh, Ma. Well, I guess you were right about the house, on the hill, in the woods, behind the Steak 'n Shake.

XOXO

Happy Mother's Day

to the Bestest Ma EVER!!!!!

I could never ever Thank You enough!

I Love You More than the entire world!!!

Happy Mother's Day, Ma!!!!

"Whatever looks like a dog hasn't peed on it."

This was the response that Ma gave me when I inquired as to what part of the rosemary I should cut from to add to our dinner. Yeah, instills a lot of confidence, huh. Well, we have a new dog in the neighborhood and for some odd reason, that dog insist on coming to pee on our rosemary! It is horrible! I am mortified each and every time I see him do it! Thankfully, he tends to stick to one little spot, but still! Yuck!!! But he is a young, happy, carefree dog who pays my dirty looks no mind at all. I can yell, I can wave my arms around, I can stomp my feet... Nothing. He just smiles. He is really cute. He is a happy dog, who, incidentally, smells of rosemary.

Guaba... Guava? Guaba? & A Big Hunk Of Flatbread!

So today Ma and I decided to be a bit adventurous and try out a new bakery! Well, more Ma than me, seeing as her sweet tooth is much longer than mine, but I ate good all weekend, so I figured a little splurge was okay. Ma saw a write up in the newspaper that talked about the bakery, the family that runs it, the treats, and that was all it took. It is kosher, they don't use any dairy, which is good for me, or any nasty fatty additives, which is even better! We walked into the sparse bakery and were greeted by a friendly family and shelves of nice baked goods. Ma had read about the cupcakes so that was high on her list, and then a pastry caught her eye, so she decided to get both! The handwritten sign said "Guaba Pastry". Guaba? What is Guaba? Well, whatever. The guy behind the counter asked if she had ever had Guaba before, she smiled and said no, so he offered her a sample. (The sample alone was big enough to satisfy a craving.) Ma happily took the sample and took a small bite. hehehe... I could tell from the look on her face that it was not the taste that she was expecting. hehe... She was good and didn't spit it out, or say yuck, yuck, gag, gag. In fact, she did not say anything for a minute or two. heheh... When she did speak it was to say, hum, that is interesting. I don't believe I want that. The guy kind of laughed. (I'm not so sure that he likes it either.) Then she shoved it toward me and said with a big smile "here, taste this"! So I did. It wasn't bad. Huh. Guaba. Tastes like something I've had before... This is what I kept repeating as I tasted the gooey center of the pastry. He told us that it was a fruit popular in the Caribbean, and Ma decided that perhaps I had encountered it on some of our travels. But, no... This tasted like something I had in a drink. Sweet, sour and a bit bitter. I like it. It's odd, but I like it. Well, heck I guess it could have been a drink in the Caribbean... I donno.... But Guaba? Did they mean Guava? Now, I've had Guava. In fact, that may be the taste I am remembering! Is Guaba, Guava? Is Guava, Guaba? Are they related? Are they the same? Could that "b" have actually been a "v"? Am I just completely insane? Well, I don't know what to tell you about the Guaba. It was good. But as far as the Guava connection is concerned, I am at a loss. Meanwhile, Ma loved her cupcake and I enjoyed my black and white cookie. We also got a big beautiful hunk of flatbread to go with dinner. ($2.00 for a huge piece!) It looks so good that the barista who took our order in the drive thru at Starbucks, held up the line when she spotted it, just to find out where we got it! After you see the picture you might want to go too! Abraham's Bakery, on Gunbarrel Road in Chattanooga, TN near Hamilton Place Mall. Ma is already plotting her next trip, to get a raspberry filled treat she saw today, and to try a loaf of the fresh baked bread. It was a great bakery, with great prices, friendly people, and Guaba.

"Poodle, Where You Been?"

Sometimes things fall into just the right place at just the right time and land right in your lap!
Today, Ma and I saved a little white poodle from the middle of a busy road near our house. He was clearly lost, wandering in and out of traffic, and though cars were stopping for him, his movements were as unpredictable as a little drunk leaving a bar. He crossed in front of us, Ma stopped, I got out, he came right to me, we hopped back into the car, he cuddled a thank you and sat nicely in my lap. As we made our way to turn around, discussing the "now what" part of our rescue (signs, ad in the paper, you know...), Ma spotted an older gentleman clearly searching for something. Perhaps, a little white poodle! She rolled down her window and inquired if he was indeed looking for a dog. Yes he was! A white dog, she asked. Yes he was! A little white poodle, he said. We pulled over and returned his baby! His face lit up as he asked "poodle, where you been?" It seems our furry friend was an inside kinda guy, who had managed to get tangled around a tree while on a walk, pulled free of his collar and leash, and had the sweet taste of freedom before deciding he was lost and wanted to go home. As we drove away, we watched the man cradling his baby, his poodle. Guess we all just happened to be in just the right place at just the right time. That is one lucky little poodle!

Speaking of things falling into place (I hesitate to even write this as I am fearful of jinxing myself, but I will), I have finally made peace with my Bialetti Cappuccino maker! After many failed attempts and reviews read, I finally listened to my Ma and I made a cappuccino. She had been telling me that I needed to wet the rubber seals and get the coffee part a little damp and not grind my espresso beans into dust. Yeah, uh huh, I thought, she doesn't know... Well, turns out she did know! When I did all of those things, the coffee did not drizzle out of the reservoir, it did not erupt like a volcano, I got perfect foam and it didn't taste half bad either! Aways the skeptic, I just knew that it was a fluke and would never work again, but it did. I have made several more cappuccinos since, following Ma's advice, and each one has been better than the last! Thank you Ma! You were right. Again... :)