Eat This

Oh. Mercy. Want something impressive for dinner that is really pretty easy to make? This is insanely good. It looks more difficult than it really is - if you can stir, you can cook this. The 'chick even managed to impress herself with this one.

1 bag frozen cheese ravioli prepared according to directions on package.

Sauce:

2 cups white sauce (directions follow)
8 oz. smoked gouda cheese (cut into small pieces to make it melt faster)
2 - 3 sun-dried tomatoes, chopped up
Fresh sliced mushrooms, if you like 'em (and we like 'em)
Chopped fresh tomato (for garnish)
Chopped green onion (for garnish)
Salt & pepper to taste

Yo' Mama's White Sauce:

Melt 1/4 cup butter (BUTTER, not margarine) in a saucepan. Whisk in 1/4 cup flour when the butter melts - cook over medium heat for a couple of minutes until it thickens. Add 2 cups of milk and stir well. Continue cooking over medium heat for a few more minutes until it thickens up again.

Add the cheese and sun-dried tomatoes. Stir really well until the cheese melts. You may need to add more milk to thin out the sauce because it can be really thick. Add salt & pepper to taste. You can also toss in some fresh sliced mushrooms right at the end.

Pour the sauce over the ravioli and garnish with chopped fresh tomato and green onion. (You've gotta do the garnish. At least one part of it. Preferably both.)

Enjoy! (And serve something minty for dessert.)

It's a Dirty Job

(The picture shown is NOT Redneck OR the 'chick's car.)

Sunday night, Redneck informed the 'chick that he would be taking her car home with him because it was time to change the oil. (Redneck has been in charge of car maintenance for the 'chick since almost their first date.)

The 'chick didn't think too much about it and handed over the keys without a second thought.

Last night, she headed over to his house to hang out for awhile (and get her car back and return his.)

The best present? Better than a free oil change?

He washed, waxed, and detailed the entire car.

He dusted and vacuumed and Armor-All'd the interior.

He cleaned the windows - inside AND out.

He polished up the rims and put tire shine on the tires.

He even put the spare tire back into its compartment the way that God and GM intended.

It made the 'chick a little swoony.

Men - want to impress your girlfriend who has to do all of her own car maintenance? Follow Redneck's lead. You might be surprised at how well the car detailing business pays.

*g*

Inner Dork, Unleashed

Friday night found Redneck and Roadchick at the local bookstore, awaiting the release of the seventh and final installment of the Harry Potter series - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Amazingly, Redneck was perfectly willing to participate in this insanity, as long as he could bring the laptop with wireless capability along.

Now, considering that every store in the entire world, including truck stops and sex shops was selling this book, you would think that the crowds would be manageable.

Not so.

It was insane. By pure, dumb luck, Redneck got a parking space in the same county because someone was leaving. They must have been leaving for emergency surgery since no one else was going ANYWHERE. Can you imagine that phone call?

"Mrs. Jones, we've found a donor. The kidney is on the way. We need you at the hospital immediately."

"What, now? But it's 2 hours to Potter. Tell the surgeons to wait. I'll need something to read while recovering."

In all the excitement, it never dawned on the 'chick that you had to join a line 10 miles long to get a wristband. She had the reserve ticket. Who knew that you had to have other things?

Realization dawned about 11:30. There were wristbands. Crap.

By that point, the floor was getting really hard and there was no more amusement to be found in the business section although apparently, you can create crafts at home for fun and profit.

Redneck and Roadchick bailed. And made $20.00 for vacating a parking space. (No, not really, but it was considered.)

The kids were all dressed up - there were Hermiones and Ginnys and even a Fleur Delacourt. There were Harrys and Rons and Dracos. There were Professor McGonagals and Dumbledores.

And, oddly enough, there was a group of teenaged boys wearing their little brothers' pajamas - of the Spiderman variety. Skintight shirts that became belly shirts and the pants turned into nearly obscene shorts.

It was the grown-ups in full costume that were the most bizzare. They were the ones that you wouldn't really want teaching a gym class at the local middle school because they were so . . . peculiar.

But, neither Redneck nor Roadchick regretted the trip because after all, it is the last Potter release party.

The next day, with no crowds around, a copy of Deathly Hallows was purchased without fanfare at the local Kroger.

If y'all have read it - don't tell. The 'chick is reading it very slowly to savor it. And to annoy Redneck who wants to read it once the 'chick is finished with it.

No Diving

Last night, Redneck and Roadchick went to Wally World to buy a crockpot.

Roadchick came home with a swimming pool, air pump, and a crockpot.

Now, granted, the swimming pool cost all of $30.00 with an extra $10.00 thrown in for the air pump to blow it up. But, still.

The 'chick has wanted a swimming pool for years. Nothing too elaborate - an aboveground pool would've been fine.

Except.

The neighborhood association (neighborhood assholes?) have some funky rule about "No aboveground pools". Inground pools are fine. With prior permission before installation. The 'chick has inground pool taste on an inflatable pool budget.

The neighborhood does have a pool at the "Recreation Center". The pool is not much larger than the inflatable pool that the 'chick bought and is always full of children, most of which are not potty-trained. The 'chick is not particularly eager to swim in the neighborhood toilet bowl, so she came up with a reasonably priced alternative.

Redneck laughed when the 'chick dropped the box containing the pool into the cart. He asked why she was buying a wading pool.

"It's not a wading pool. It's a wallerin' pool. To lay outside in the sun and waller. And get a tan. And not get hot."

"Your neighbors are going to think you've lost your mind and they're still going to turn you in for having a pool."

"Not if we have pool parties."

"This is all starting to sound a little too much like a 1970's wife swap. Who is going to bring the Jello mold?"

"Oh hey - good idea! We can have Jello wrestling in the evening!"

"Then you'd better buy a patch kit."

"No, it's only funny until someone punctures the side."

"You do realize that you're not right in the head, don't you?"

"Yes. Do you think Jello will turn people's skin funny colors? Or stain the towels?"

"Better get the sugar-free or else there will be ants everywhere."

"The 'chick does not want relatives coming over."

"Not aunts - ants - the little bugs? Oh nevermind - just go pay for this stuff."

Pool party at Roadchick's house this weekend. Y'all are invited. Just don't bring your aunts.

Dripping With Insight

And not particularly funny.

During the drive to work this morning, the 'chick had herself a good ol' think. She was thinking about friends that are in her life right now, and friends from the past. The reason for this musing was because of an email that she received from a friend from the past. Just a funny, joke email that perfectly demonstrated the sense of humor that this friend and the 'chick shared.

The 'chick used to be co-workers with this person and was actually pretty close to bestest friends with his wife. The closeness of the friendship lasted over several years, one move to a new house ('chick), one divorce ('chick), several funerals (friends' family members), holidays, birthdays, etc.

The friendship suffered a split when a new employee started at the job. The new co-worker was the office manager and the 'chick was friendly to her, got along well with her, took smoke breaks and lunch breaks with her and eventually became very good friends away from work hours with her.

Old Friends did not like New Friend because . . . who knows? They said she was white trash, things like that. Roadchick thought this was absolute bullshit and let that be known. Besides - at the point that those comments were being made, New Friend was still just New Co-Worker and Roadchick's boss besides. It made good sense, careerwise, to be friendly to the new boss. And besides, there was no reason to be ugly.

Anyway.

Old Friends had their annual Christmas party that year. Roadchick was always invited and usually involved in the planning and execution of the party. First one there, last one to leave. This year, Roadchick was not invited. She was not even told about the party. Old Friends invited many, many people from the office and apparently told everyone to keep it a secret from the 'chick. But, of course, after the party, people were talking it over at work and the 'chick overheard. And the 'chick's feelings were hurt.

It took a little while, but the 'chick got over it. She was still friendly and nice, but not quite so eager to be friends anymore. Things are still friendly and nice, but the friendship never really recovered from that hurt. The 'chick was not so willing to put herself out there again for that hurt to happen.

Another close friend faded off a few years ago. Roadchick and Friend met through work (a different job) and bonded. They went to movies and dinner, drinks, even a roadtrip or two. They even went to church together.

But, Roadchick started noticing that while Friend was usually willing to go along with whatever the 'chick planned, she was not inclined to ever initiate anything on her own. If there were phone calls, the 'chick was the one dialing the phone.

Roadchick and Friend attended the same church and Roadchick, being the heathen that she is, eventually stopped going. (There were actually several reasons, but those don't apply to this particular story.)

Now, Roadchick had kind of figured that Friend might actually call about this because Rockboy and the 'chick were there at least twice a week - Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. But the phone call never came and the 'chick didn't bother to make the call either. At that point, it seemed like - wow, you didn't even notice that we weren't there.

Of course, all of that flashed through the 'chick's mind pretty quickly which led to this:

Why is it so easy for the 'chick to walk away? Does that mean that she is not letting people really get too close because they're going to disappear anyway?

The 'chick can carry a grudge - she admits that. She will carry it to the ends of the earth and beyond. Not often and it takes some doing to force her to that action, but it can be done.

Before the grudge comes the test.

And the test is this: If you are not calling when you say you are going to, or if you continue to break plans, etc. then the 'chick will sit back and watch. Watch to see if you call or if you are going to take the initiative to plan something and follow through with it. If you do, fine. Things go back to normal. Continue to disappoint? The 'chick takes one more step back. Too many steps back and you fade away into a memory. And, apparently, a blog post.

Advice and therapy in comments.

The Urge to Merge

And just like that (snaps her fingers) the dark, evil mood lifted.

How, you ask?

On the 'chick's drive into work, part of the drive takes place on a 2-lane road which widens out to a 4-lane road over an interstate interchange, then narrows back down to a 2-lane road again.

The left lane continues, the right lane ends.

The right lane is marked with signs and large arrows on the pavement pointing left to indicate that THIS LANE ENDS, YOU MUST MERGE.

The 'chick is a lazy driver and just stays in the left lane. It's easier that way. No troublesome merging to contend with, especially before the caffeine fully hits her system.

The 'chick was cruising along, humming with the radio, pondering the day ahead just as the lanes widened out. The 'chick stays to the left, as always. The car behind the 'chick swings right and accelerates slightly. And draws even with the 'chick's car.

The 'chick was a reasonable distance behind the car in front of her but still too close for another car to squeeze in. The 'chick is wondering when the dude to the right is going to speed up or slow down, because the end of the right lane is fast approaching. Dude neither speeds up nor slows down.

By now, the 'chick is taking a more active interest in these proceedings as the right lane is ending RIGHT NOW and dude is under the impression that the laws of physics are going to bend to his will and allow two objects to occupy the same space at the same time.

Dude has not bargained on Roadchick.

Roadchick is in NO mood for this kind of bullshit so early on a Monday morning.

Roadchick gently taps her horn with both hands and motions that there is ample room behind her car, since she is NOT letting anyone get over from the right lane into the left. No cutting in line, thankyouverymuch.

Dude honks back and makes a rude gesture, and indicates he intends to get over in front of Roadchick.

Again, Dude has not bargained on Roadchick and the intensity of her mood over the past few days.

Roadchick maintains her lane and Dude has to decide: is he feeling lucky?

Roadchick offers Dude a friendly gesture (which she hasn't done while driving in at least 7 years) and reminds him once more - there is ample room behind Payback, but not in front. The end of the line is back there.

Dude decided he was NOT feeling lucky and got into the lane BEHIND the 'chick.

Right about that time, the evil bubble burst and the 'chick started grinning and slipped the Kid Rock into the CD player.

Life is sweet, ain't it?

The Answer

According to Pacian, duct taping lobsters to one's hands and then persuading them to perform everyday activities is the answer to disgruntlement.

Maybe, maybe not.

But, the picture from Pacian made the 'chick laugh her ass off so evidently, it may be a valid solution. Especially after noticing the little tea cup and saucer in the lobster's claw.

Disgruntled

Image shamelessly stolen from despair.com. Go there. Look around. Be amused. Buy something.

Anyway. The 'chick is in a mood. Where it came from, she does not know. It's almost like wicked PMS, but it's not that - the calendar says it's not.

Everything is annoying as hell. People are not falling into line with plans, needs, wants.

Now, in all honesty, everyone (with the exception of the 'chick) is acting the same way that they always do. There is no new behavior taking place. No change in attitudes, actions, anything at all.

But, damn it, these people are just getting on the 'chick's last nerve. And dancing.

The 'chick has a bad case of "Oh, poor baby" syndrome, where she is feeling much put upon and taken for granted.

Someone - anyone - please do something amusing to help break this mood.

Or else.

Hug 'Em Tight

Sometimes it takes an almost literal smack over the head to make you appreciate what you have.


Crazy Aunt Purl lost one of her kitties and wrote an amazing tribute/memorial to her friend, Roy.

The 'chick is not one for bawling in public but reading that post caused the 'chick to unashamedly bawl at her desk at work.

Go home today and hug the ones that you hold dear.

Speedbump had her stuffins squeezed out of her and thinks the 'chick is slightly insane, but oddly - she tolerated it, almost as if she knew.

Rest in Peace, Roy, from Roadchick and Speedbump.

Down At The Station

It's hard to top Mist's post about her 4th of July, but after a series of emails, the 'chick has decided to tell the tale of how she spent the Glorious 4th.

Because Redneck has connections, he was able to park behind the bus station in Nashville. In the restricted lot. Unauthorized cars will be towed at the owner's expense. Redneck, Roadchick, and Best Friend got out and headed inside the station for beverages.

After hitting the gift shop, everyone headed to the snack bar for their beverage of choice. The bus station has a Slush Puppy machine so the 'chick got a cherry slush and spiked it with the vodka she had tucked in her purse for just this sort of emergency.

After settling comfortably in the back of someone's pickup truck (whose was it? we don't know) the festivities could begin. Lots of new friends were made as they waited for their buses to come in from all over America. Friends were lost as they boarded their buses and headed to their Final Destinations.

Best Friend made a special friend. A rather strange man offered to pay her to poop in a bag for him. She declined his offer and told him she was constipated.

Sitting in the restricted lot offers other amusements too. The security guards were busy watching the lot and calling tow trucks to come get the cars that were not authorized to be there. As time went by and the slush level dipped lower, Roadchick and Best Friend decided to help the guards out by pointing out the offending vehicles. After all, how dare they park in OUR lot? The flashing lights of the tow trucks competed with the fireworks that lit up the Nashville skyline.

This 4th of July rates as one of the oddest ones that the 'chick has ever spent. It made the 'chick sorry that she had touched up her roots earlier in the day - she would've blended in much better if she had left them alone.

And how was YOUR 4th of July???

Independence!

Maybe Kid Rock said it best:

Red, white, and blue down to the bone
If you don't like that, then take your punk ass home.

Thanks to ALL the soldiers: past, present, and future for giving up so much so that we can have so much.

The 'chick is humbled by the sacrifice and she is so grateful.

Stay safe & have fun. The 'chick will be over here by the Roman candles.

Truer Words Were Never Spoken. . .

Seen at the Demolition Derby.