Tag Archives: Drama

Summer drop-out

Summer drop-out

Ho-kay; done with the dreams.  Moving on now.

summer beauty

Its summer, the time of year we follow the sun running like fools until we drop in front of the BBQ pit at 8 o’clock at night in our best imitation of Wonder Woman.  No matter it’s not dark for another hour or so, the clock is still ticking and there’s fun to be had.

crazy summer

Well this year I’m opting out.  In honor of my grandmothers’ legacies, I’m going more Southern Lady in the Shade, sweet tea in one hand, sewing needles in the other.  I’m done trying to reach marketing geniuses ideas of summer fun.  I live in south Texas where temperatures are still hovering around 100 degrees at 10:30 at night. Nuff said.


Climate change or cyclical anomalies, whatever, never seem to be factored into TV commercials; and it’s a crying shame manufacturers are trying to sell uncontrollable joy and the ultimate outdoor gladiator experience in this kind of heat.

Greed is the sweaty little merchandise king with the leather whip driving this maniacal ship, and I want off!

I’m headed back inside my tortoise shell with the air blasting.  I’m going to OD on Discovery ID Crime and Food Network Cooking shows.  I’m going to sew until Charlotte, my Bernina, screams.  I’m going to quilt until my fingers bleed.  I’m going to make about 1,000 salads and learn my way around Cool Whip cakes and Jello Fluffs.

I’m not going to try to keep up with anyone.

keeping up with summer fashion

I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

aunt bea whatever look

I’m pulling the plug on social politeness.

dont cross me

Stand back girls, I’m going in!


Waiting for Leisure to Begin

Waiting for Leisure to Begin

I never saw Aunt Bea in a pair of fuzzy pink slippers but I’ve got to believe she owned one.  Here in domestic Nirvana, I’ve given mine a real workout of late.  These slippers are not the dainty feathery type with pointy, sharp heels, (I’m no Elizabeth Taylor), or the casual flip flop summer variety, but more an over the ankle combat boot lined with molten hot flannel wrapped in thick batting, and finished in a flurry of heavy duty fleece.

As I pad along creaking oak floors in these beauties, I’m also wearing hefty wool socks patterned with stripes, plaids, little yellow ducks,( the print doesn’t matter), because its effectiveness I’m looking for.  What I really want is a compact pair of energy efficient ovens for cold, arthritic feet, but I can’t find any anywhere in retail.

boots meant for walking

I generally love frosty weather, but this year my brain seems to have dropped the ball because my body never got the message.  As a result, I’m moving through the house with the silhouette of a Green Bay Packer, (undershirts, long johns, sweater on sweater), muddling through work that suddenly is more chore, less delight, and the sheer weight of heavy clothing is getting me down.  Now add grey, overcast sky and ice with an attitude and you can see where I am. We’ve had so many ice storms this year, I’m tempted to throw away every piece of crystal in the entire house just to get rid of any reminder of the brutes outside beating up the shrubbery, torturing naked trees, and mauling finicky power lines.

Then there’s the fact that I blew out a tire in a couple of appliances and the budget isn’t having anything at all to do with my sobbing pleas to replace them; as a result, I’ve found myself grounded to a complete halt on the frozen surface of the proverbial creek.  I might have a good case for self-pity:

Blues, despair, agony on me,   Deep, dark depression,    excessive misery.   If it weren’t for bad luck,    I’d have no luck at all.     Blues, despair,    agony on me,  (Lyrics courtesy of Buck Owens and Roy Clark for this verse of their little jingle  from Hee-Haw, circa 1969 – 1992), but I don’t think so.  If Aunt Bea wasn’t already ‘homesteading’ in earnest, she is now.

The problem with actually living life means there isn’t as much time to write about living life, so from time to time in passing, I smile at the computer, wiping a near-tear away with designer cleaning gloves, as my furry combat slippers carry me from one chore to another.

Dietary news is much brighter than what comes out of Maintenance these days, what with dark, heavy skies and flurries of flurries, I am inspired.  Soups, stews and rich warm casseroles have found their way through last season’s maze of light entrees and green salads, kicking ass and taking names.

winter squash

The cabbage looks a little droopy in the market so Rich gets a well-deserved break, but the aisles are literally bursting with colorful, mysterious looking varieties of winter squash and root vegetables!  Aunt Bea Me has tried them all, some more successfully than others, but each a winner in its own humble way.

With Rich’s A1C level hovering safely around 6, it’s good to go at our house, and both of us are eagerly awaiting the lull we plan to transform into a virtual festival of rest and relaxation!   The puzzle boxes are stacked neatly on a corner game table and the remote control is properly situated between the two sections of a double recliner we share.

puzzles boxwd

Yes, Mission Control is a-buzz with anticipation as these two old space cadets giddily wait for leisure to begin.

mission control

Unfortunately, to this point, by the time the day’s work is semi-complete, neither has the energy for lift-off.  And although it’s not exactly the scenario either had imagined, it still beats the pants off anything we had before we teamed up.

hands holding hands

Happy New Year, my friends, and may the Force be with you. 

The Agony and Angst of Competition: Cupcake Wars


this is war baby

I’m a huge fan of the television reality show Cupcake Wars, so when our local bakery, Fat Bottom Girls, was asked to participate, I was ecstatic!  Actually, no one in town except the girls at the bakery even knew about it for the longest time, apparently like most wars, details are illusive, very hush-hush.  But when an airing date was finally announced, Aunt-Bea-Me did a little happy dance in the middle of her kitchen and then bounced to the laundry room to mark the calendar.

Well, I can tell you, the weeks drug on and on, my anticipation growing proportionately; and when the viewing date was so close I could almost taste one of Fat Bottom Girls Salted Caramel cupcakes burst in my inner mouth, I visited their cute, little pink bakery on Central for luck.

I’ve always heard that Hollywood was fickle, and now I can attest to that truth, because on that late day, mid-summer, I was shocked and disappointed to find that the Food Network contacted the Girls to let them know their show had been postponed, a future reschedule date to be announced some time later.

Well, I never….

The harshness of the outer world was mind-boggling.  Here in small town Arkansas, a person is only as good as his word, or the goodies she bakes, so a complete change in war strategies and rules came as a hard blow, shaking my faith in the entertainment world quite a bit.  But like any confident woman, Aunt-Bea-Me knows the true value of a Tim Gunn “Make it work” moment, so I made a plan that would facilitate another mandatory adjustment to change.

In true warrior style, I attacked the challenge using hands on combat, (baking therapy), to hasten and ensure a complete recovery, inventing cupcake after cupcake, each sugar free and more than a trifle dry or redundant.  But like any good soldier, I was steadfast in my determination and committed to the task ahead; that’s when the moist, delicious sugar free Banana Cream Cupcake with Cranberry Compote and Light Fluffy Cream Cheese Frosting was born.  This cupcake was a hero!

It wasn’t long after the Sugar Free Banana Cream Cupcake with Cranberry Compote and Light Fluffy Cream Cheese Frosting culinary success had led me to recovery from Hollywood’s brutal betrayal, that an announcement went out that our own Fat Bottom Girls had, at last, been rescheduled for national debut!

Will they win or will they go down in flames alongside countless other cupcake geniuses?  I can only guess because that whole war secrecy code thingy is still in full force, in spite of set backs and betrayals.  But pretty soon we will all know!

Turn into the Food Network tonight, Saturday, December 7th, at 7 pm central standard time, and find out!  You can bet your best apron Aunt-Bea-Me will be watching alongside her best friend-husband, Rich, in their basic beige love seat recliner!



Flour Power-VS-the World!


This is one of those days!  It’s like paying the last lay-away payment on a dog house, only to get the thing home just in time to find out that Fido ran away!  Today has been a see-saw of good and bad news, almost enough to make Aunt Bea throw her chubby floured hands up in the air, spin on her stocky little black leather granny heels, and stomp off  to the Piggly Wiggly for a sack of TV dinners!

Almost, but not quite.

Yesterday the doctor took Rich off one of his diabetes medicines.  He thought it was because he was making better food choices, and was near giddy with delight until Doc told him the reason he was dropping the drug, was because the research is showing  it’s causing prostate cancer!

BAM! Giddy broken!

After that news, we may have started the day on a downer, but the phone rang early in the morning, and it was Doc, again, with the results of Rich’s labs.  All his numbers were really, really good and some so good, Doc dropped another med because he doesn’t think Rich needs it anymore!

BAM!  We’re back on top again!

Rich goes to work; Charlie comes up and he and I spend the next two hours talking food.  Cooking is his hobby, and on his days off, Morgan comes home to a real feast.

In the summer, Morgan works two jobs, so today, at lunch, in between the two, she decided to come home to eat.  I’d saved her some of  the Nut-Crusted Cod I’d prepared last night, (another adventure in healthy eating by way of Marlene Koch’s Eat More of what you Love, that wonderful cookbook gift from my daughter, Billie, Morgan’s mother.)

Morgan moaned so loudly with pleasure as she ate, Charlie was forced to pick up a fork and see what all the fuss was about!  When he started moaning too, it was too much for me to bear, so I just left the room.

That’s when my cell went off.  It was my youngest daughter, Crissy.  Crissy is married to super hero Chris; they live in a canyon in Amarillo with their four kids. To say Chris is an over-achiever is like saying I’m a little interested in cooking; the man needs a cape!

Crissy is a hero too!  She’s today’s version of Pioneer, Earth Mother.  I love and admire both of these kids, and of course, their children; so when Crissy called to say her oldest is having a problem, the bottom falls out from under my feet.  BAM!  I’m down again!

I take a little time out, sit on the deck in the breeze, and get a little philosophical wondering what I can do to help.  A bunch of bells and whistles go off in my head, and I write to my daughter.  (When stuff isn’t going well, Crissy would rather write and skip conversation.  She’s as emotional as me, and get us going, and we’re like a house on fire.)  So, out of respect, I write, and thanks to email, ten minutes later, I hear back from her, and we both felt a little better.  So, BAM!  I’m UP again!

Then Rich telephones to say he won’t be bringing the new range hood we’d been eyeing in Sears home today.  Because the lady in front of him in line, bought the last one!

BAM!  Lower than preverbal snake’s belly.

Once my Aunt Jeanne said my life reminded her of a soap opera, “All the Craze of my Life”, she said.  Maybe she got it right.

Okay: tonight’s foray into culinary erotica… probably not…Tonight’s foray into culinary experimentation…much more likely…Dessert!  Heavenly Pumpkin Spice Cake coming in at 115 calories a slice, (2 carbs, 1 ½ Carb choice on the Food Exchange), and 2 plus Weight Watcher comparison points!

another kitchen failure

Aunt Bea’s Pearl for exasperating days:  Put on some lipstick, grab a bright apron, and bake!