Who’s the Boss?

Who’s the boss? Bubba is the boss ….that’s who. I love that dog to bits and bits. … but he makes me crazy. He’s like a little kid... sometimes he gives me a hard time just to see if he can. … and make no mistake about it… he definitely can.

Every morning and night he and Duke get these little bonelets… a supplement to make their bones and joints stronger… as older dogs, they were having problems getting around as well they used to. Each time the two of them stand in front of Warren waiting for their bonelets. Duke never gives us a hard time… he just takes it. Bubba, on the other hand, will sometimes spit it out and Warren will have to speak sternly to him and give it back to him. Sounds simple enough? Not so fast.

Awhile back Warren had to go out of town for work and I was the one stuck giving them their bonelets. Duke was fine… no problem… but one morning Bubba decided to keep spitting it out… I had to get to work and was getting very frustrated with him. I remembered when I was growing up we had a beagle that didn’t like taking pills… so we wrapped them in a little piece of liverwurst and he would take them without a problem. So you can guess what happened next… yep… went into the fridge and checked the meat drawer… ahhh… roast beef…. (hey I was desparate)…. so I took a small piece of my 9 bucks a pound roast beef and wrapped the bonelet in it… Bubba ate it no problem. So this went on for three days until Warren got home.

The day Warren came home, the dogs (AKA the Boys) … had to go to the vet to be boarded because we were going out of town for the weekend and I was stuck taking them… no problem… while I was checking them in… the office manager asked me if they had been taking their bonelets… I told her yes and proceeded to tell her how I had gotten Bubba to take his bonelet… (kind of proud of myself)… she then said… oh we don’t have a problem anymore… he tried that with us too… he just wants to see who’s boss… you just speak sternly too him and he takes it…. greaaaaat… now I felt like an idiot… I turned to look at him… and I swear he understood everything… he hung his head and tail slightly and looked away… I swear he had a smile on his face…. I almost said… wait until I get you home mister…

Off to work I went… and later that afternoon when Warren got home… I told him what had happened…. he just laughed…. very funny…

We picked the Boys up at the vet on Monday night…. and when we got home it was bonelet time… and sure enough… Warren gave them their bonelets without a problem… I shot Bubba a look… he just smiled.

So the next day I figured I would give them their bonelets… Duke … no problem… Bubba …like clockwork…spit it out… ping as it hit the floor… and then he looked over at the fridge… no way… nuh uh… ain’t happenin’…. I picked it up and gave it back to him… he ate it without a problem and looked up at me and I swear he smiled… he felt like taking it…yep …. he was boss…

The Redneck Mobile (that’s pronounced Mow-beel) AKA the Pick-Up

I was looking around the net for a suitable topic to comment on for the blog… but nothing was hitting me… until I looked at one of the ads in my own blog…. There it was… an ad for a Chevy Silverado… yep now that’s an ad for a Pearl Twirler if I ever saw one… yessiree… I need to go out and get me one ASAP.

The ad brags about the Silverado’s 21 MPG Highway… better fuel economy than the Dodge Ram…. Small print points out … the Silverado’s 21 MPG Highway/ 15 MPG city and compares it to the Dodge Ram’s 20 MPG Highway/ 14 MPG city…. Woo Hooo…. Be still my heart… Now that’s fuel economy for you… now why in the dickens would I be interested in a Silverado???...never mind I am a 5 foot 3 and ¾ tall woman who can barely see over the hood of a Dodge Ram (Warren has one… did you expect anything less from a Georgia Redneck??)… I drive a Hyundai Elantra… I regularly get 33 miles to the gallon and on our last long trip to NY we averaged close to 40…. So am I impressed with 15 MPG city???? … notta chance.

As any honest Redneck will tell you… when buying a Redneck mobile … MPG is the furthest from their minds…. Whether they can peel out and do zero to 60 in 1.2 seconds is more what they are interested in….along with truck colors (cannot be a “wimpy color”)… sliding rear windows (so fishin’ poles can fit through them)…and gun racks (needs no further explanation).

You may ask how do I know this… well… with all the high gas prices this past summer… trucks were on sale everywhere… (BIG surprise…crappy MPGs and high gas prices…duh)…so of course we went truck hunting… I silently watched as my Georgia Redneck hemmed and hawed over each potential truck… he didn’t end up replacing his 2005 Dodge Ram Quad Cab… oh I almost forgot … Hemi… I have no idea what that all meant… I just know it matters.

I also know it sits so high up.. he put a running board on it for me to get in and out … watching him park that damn thing is like watching someone dock the Queen Mary… but hey…it’s a guy thing…. I know.

Living in the south has taught me that there’s a very special relationship between a Southern man and his vehicle (pronounced vee-hick-le)… it’s his Manly Man thing…it’s a whole different world down here… there’s a pick-up truck for every household… they take up extra spaces in the parking lots… lest your little car get too close to their macho machines…and just forget ever thinking you still have a right to the left lane…nope… no sireee… that’s only for “real” vehicles… like theirs…they pull to forward so far that if you’re trying to make a right… forget trying to see traffic… they are effectively a brick wall…and another thing about the south…. plenty of women drive them down here too… and not those small cute Toyota ones either… they drive the Silverados and the Rams and the Ford F whatevers…

So I hope all you readers out there click on that Silverado ad so you can find the nearest dealer to run out buy your next vee-hick-le… this Yankee Girlie Girl is fine with her little Hyundai.

Quirks

“I have quirks????”… I asked in disbelief.

“Yes, Mom you have quirks”….. Erik answered.

And so the conversation began…. Okay it wasn’t total disbelief…even I know I have some quirks.

I love Post-It notes. I use Post-It notes for everything…. Scraps of information… thoughts…appointment times… addresses… directions… phone numbers… the list goes on and on.

I am particularly bad about phone numbers…. I usually just write the phone number down and no name… or just a first name… I stick the phone numbers in my address book… my address book is a wonderland of all these numbers I have no idea who they belong to… I never throw them out… hey… you never know… I might need that number.

“So there… I admitted my quirk”…..

“You admitted YOUR quirk???” ….

“Uh huh…MY quirk”…

“You think you have only one quirk??”

“I have more than one??? I asked in definite disbelief.”

“Mom…. Are you kidding??? …. Your address book…it takes years to get written into your address book… and an act of God to make it in there in ink… Gift wrap… it’s a sickness, Mom… you have every kind of gift wrap …Christmas, Easter, male birthday, female birthday, kids wrap, baby wrap, bows, ribbon, … “(he forgot wedding shower, wedding, baby shower and non-descript)

And he just kept going….”Loading the dishwasher… you load the dishwasher a certain way… and if I load it slightly differently, you move it…sometimes I do that just to watch you” …

(I knew that…)

He was going like a train at full speed “Tupperware…. We have every size and shape…Tupperware, Tupperware everywhere”…

“Okay…okay…I get the idea…will you shut up now”…

Apparently he wasn’t going to shut up….”Leftovers….. you have the inability to throw out anything left that’s more than 2 tablespoons… Grammar… you are a Grammar Nazi…. I watch your face twitch when you hear a double negative… forget the word ain’t…you look like you’re going to have an epileptic seizure… Commitment-phobic….you’re so commitment-phobic that you haven’t re-newed your cell phone in something like eight years…so if you want to cancel it you can without a fee… nevermind you have been with Verizon since the beginning of time.”

“I renewed it the last time I bought my phone… so there…”

“That was in 2003…and you’re phone is falling apart”

“The rubber-band works fine keeping the flip part on”

“Okay enough… I get the picture…Mr. who hates to use pockets and insists on carrying everything in his hands so he can lose his cell phone on average of at least once a month… insists on wearing loafers without socks… calls his watches time pieces…and has an out of control hair care product fetish….”

So we all have quirks… Warren has his quirks too… his affection for cowboy boots and hats… The utensils MUST be handle up in the utensil tray of the dishwasher… he likes his hairbrush next to the sink in the bathroom …. (when we were first dating I used to like to screw with his head…I’d hide it before I would fly home to NY…I’d leave a Post-It note where I knew he would look that said something like…not here stupid…come to think of it I haven’t done that in a while..)

The way he folds wash… he is very, very, very particular… did I stress that enough?.... he brings folding wash to an art form…it took me a year to get the jeans right… and I’m not quite sure I will ever get the tee-shirts quite right…he snaps them..folds them in half..lays it against his chest…folds the sleeve in….snaps the bottom to the top…smoothing out the wrinkles in one quick move…and then in half again…all in a matter of 5 seconds…I timed him… watching him fold his tee shirts is like watching someone doing the makarena… hands patting here there everywhere…. the man is amazing…. He could have a second career in laundry .

And there’s the way he eats… three things on the plate… he eats one at a time… heaven forbid he take a bite of one thing then another thing… nope…no can do….

I decided it’s the quirks that make us..us…. and it is just those things that make us unique and funny and lovable… I love them for their quirks … I truly do… as nuts as they can make me…I love them with all my heart and soul… and I guess they love me for mine too…

The Remote Control

We remodeled recently and the extra room that was an ugly eye sore was gutted and turned into what we call a Media Room aka “Man Cave”. The room was remodeled over the course of 3 months while I traveled back and forth to Providence for work.

One weekend I returned to find a mammoth TV had been purchased… hence the room became the “Media Room”… the Man Cave thing started one week when I was gone… he and his brother-in-law Philip named it… pity when we watch chick flicks there..so much for the "Man" Cave...

It’s never is a good idea to leave 2 grown men alone for that long without supervision…they do manly man things like making daily trips to Home Depot and Circuit City…. tools and electronics…. No women to talk them out of any purchases…They thought they died and went to heaven… and along with that mammoth TV came the Remote Control.

Now I know it’s a guy thing but why is it that men… when watching TV feel they must be in control of the Remote Control…. aka “The Scepter”…. (excuse me while I gag). I really have no objection to Warren having control of the remote… but I do have a problem with him flitting from channel to channel… one minute we’re watching something … the next blink… we are on something else… sometimes I’m not even sure if it’s a commercial or not.

I’m not sure what’s worse… staying on a channel long enough to get interested… only to have him click off it and on to something else….or…. have him whiz through the channels at lightning speed so that I find my head twitching trying to keep up with him.

However, one thing is definitely for sure… do not… repeat do not… do any of the above to him… he will sit there and huff and puff and sigh…. trying to make sure his displeasure is duly noted.

So what is the problem here? Why is it okay if he does any of those things but not me? I’ll tell you … it’s all about control… if I have the remote… he no longer has control. It’s a genetic thing… he must be in control of the remote lest he be unhappy. The man doesn’t need therapy… he just needs his remote…and he’s a happy man.

Did you know that if you have multiple remote controls from your cable company for multiple TV’s in your house … that they work on any TV in the house?.

I put one in my pocket and sat down in the chair in the back of the living room…. there he was… clicking away on his remote… when he finally decided to stay on something for more than 20 seconds… I hit the channel changer in my pocket… it took him a few seconds to realize the channel changed… and I could tell by the look on his face that he thought he had done it… so he clicked back…I did it periodically all night until I saw him change the batteries in his remote… like that would matter… I found it hysterical… funny… he didn’t find it quite so funny… oh he laughed… but I could tell it was irking him…. (I can be evil that way).

So where does that leave us… I’ll tell you… not in control of the remote…. To me it’s just not worth bickering about… when it gets under my skin I let him know… and he’s smart enough to stop… he may be a man … but he’s a smart one.

Love and the Boiled Peanut

As a Yankee Pearl Twirler…. I had a lot to learn about the South. This is a whole different world down here. They talk different, think different and eat different…. and everything is slower too. Don’t get me wrong… I’m not saying these are bad things… just different…. well… not everything is bad… but there are some things that just defy logic.

They should have a Southern to English dictionary for us Yankees… I have actually had entire conversations with people and had absolutely no idea what we were talking about. When we were first dating I bought Warren a dictionary of New York City expressions. It was called “New Yawk Tawk” by Robert Hendrickson….great book, by the way…. He at least got a heads up on things when coming up north… my Georgia Good Ole Boy with his sexy southern drawl ordered a bagel with a schmear like he had lived in New Yawk all his life… (wink). I, on the other hand, have been defenseless and clueless…

It never ceases to amaze me how many things can be rolled in batter and deep fried. There are no bounds to what can be fried…. deep fried pickles… yes, you read that right… they actually deep fry pickles… I haven’t brought myself to try one yet… just the thought of it makes me think of my arteries seizing up and clogging …. apparently the word cholesterol is not in Southern dictionaries.

Now you take the peanut, for example… you expect to see them salted or honey roasted (in a can) … (Thank you Planters)… sometimes they’re still in their shells (in bags)…. crunchy shells you crack open and eat the peanut inside…. never, ever had I ever seen a squishy shell before…. sold in styrofoam coffee cups….but I suppose there is a first time for everything.

On my first trip down here… Warren carefully planned outings to show me around and get me to sample some of the local (shall we say) cuisine. One of our little day trips was to visit the Okeefenokee Swamp… don’t laugh …it’s a nature preserve… filled with alligators… I’m not crazy about alligators and swamps with bugs the size of pterodactyls eating us alive…but it was interesting and fun…. I was in love…

Anyway… and the end of our little tour we were directed through a gift shop (what else?)… and on the counter stood a crock pot with peanuts in their shells…. Warren said “Yum”…. I thought they looked odd and smelled funny… but I’m usually willing to try just about anything (stupid, stupid woman) … so he bought a cups worth and we went outside to the picnic benches to enjoy our snack…

He opened a peanut and gave me one to try… I must say it was one of the most, if not the most vile thing I had ever tasted…. I wanted to just spit the damn thing out … but this Pearl Twirler was raised by her mother to be a lady… (Thank you Mom)….so swallow it I did….

About three hours later I was sure I was dying…. Trying hard not to throw up… he has a tile bathroom… and I am a loud puker… (trust me… I had my whole family gagging when I had morning sickness with my son… I am legendary…) So there I was sitting on his throne clutching onto a garbage can for dear life…. all night long…. With a stupid camp song running through my brain… funny how the brain works… I hadn’t thought of that song in years….

The song went…. “I found a peanut last night… cracked it open… it was rotten … ate it anyway… got sick… called the doctor… died anyway… went to heaven…saw St Peter”…etc…. ( you get the picture) …

I was convinced he would dump me if he heard me … it would not be pretty. I know just how ugly it would be. I was just happy I lived through it and didn’t throw up my toes. I know many, many people love boiled peanuts… good for them… this chick is done with them…

Well you do things when you’re in love… and I do love Warren… and I have learned to embrace some of the things in the south… I love the hot weather… I do not miss the cold winters and snow up north….I do like things slower… I love grits and eggs and I do love some of that southern drawl…. I find myself saying “Ya’ll”.... I may try a deep fried pickle…(I never learn)…but I will never, ever eat boiled peanuts again…

Pet Peeve

Okay… I know I can be cranky… and downright difficult… but… some of my pet peeves are definitely legitimate… at least I think so…

I hate the grocery store… period… while I know that the invention of the almighty supermarket has made our lives infinitely easier… and we do not have to go to a number of stores to get everything we need like our great grandmothers had to… I still hate it…

As you might have guessed I just returned from one of my quick little pleasure excursions (okay… I know that was a tad sarcastic…I’ll try to behave more from now on).

The first thing I hate about the grocery store is the deli counter. The clerks … (some have been there since the flood and must have canasta buddies with Noah’s wife)… are definitely set in their ways… and if you want rare roast beef… they do not want to slice it and will do everything to convince you that you do not need roast beef. Be prepared for the 20 questions… do I know how rare it is?… yes I do… it’s bloody you know?… yes ..I know…. am I sure?… yes I’m sure… well it’s going to bleed all over the slicer…. dead silence follows as if I am going to say… “oh in that case I’ll take bologna”…she finally realizes she is going to have to slice it….then the loud sigh as she removes the hunk-a-cow from the case… I was tempted to moo.

As she’s slicing it, she wrinkles her face up like a raisinette as if to say what she is doing is totally gross and she will up-chuck at any moment… looking over to be sure I notice… she asks… you like this???.... I’m tempted to say… “No… I spend 10 bucks a pound on that crap so I can throw it out”…. I just nod and smile.

Our store decided to re-arrange all the aisles… so now I am lost yet again… and it’s always the last thing on the list that I can’t find… and forget trying to get help finding something… Customers are 4 deep at the Customer Service counter… and if I’m lucky enough to find someone working in one of the aisles… they will avert their eyes from me until I am practically stepping on them… then it’s a 50-50 chance they either won’t know where my item is or they will send me to the wrong place.

Now the fun really begins… the check-out line. It never fails… I always chose the wrong line… three people in front of me, the cashier has stopped… she managed to charge the poor woman 100 bucks for a head of lettuce and now needs her supervisor to correct the over-ring. After 5 minutes of waiting… that gets straightened out… great… then the next man is buying beer… he doesn’t have his ID… but he looks at least 70… you have to use your brain… something they do not teach in employee orientation… so we wait for yet another supervisor… next woman is writing a 3 dollar and change out-of-state check… you guessed it… we wait for another supervisor…
Finally I get to the cashier… I’m excited until I see that the supervisor comes over and starts counting out the cashier’s drawer…. I want to shoot myself… I just smile.

But wait… it doesn’t end there… the bagger…. The bagger is some teenage boy who apparently never grocery shopped for his mother or has any idea the price of the stuff his is cramming into the plastic bag…his mother would have killed him had he put cans on top of the eggs…. And detergent with my 10 bucks a pound mooing roast beef….All my stuff is stuffed into a bag with the cantaloupe sitting squarely on my grapes… and the tomatoes on the bottom…By the time he is done… I just wanna go home….

The parking lot… all I can say is…I just want to know one thing….why is it carts roll not toward the shit mobile with a million dents in it and the bumper tied on…but your car with only 6 payments on it…???

I just looooove going to the grocery store… maybe next time I will let Warren experience all the fun… yeah right … delusional woman….and I believe in the tooth fairy…