I’m a blond…always have been and probably always will be.
For some reason, I thought I could be a redhead and channel Lucille Ball instead of Marilyn Monroe.
Not only was I not funny…I was washed out and melancholy.
Deciding to go back blond will reek havoc on my hair…it’s starting to feel like mush and more bleach will only be a bad idea.
My solution…go blond and SHORT. Real short.
Rico thinks I should channel some Pink…but that’s a little too ho blond for me…
’cause ya’ll know I want to look naturel. BWAHAHAHAHA!!!!
What do ya’ll think….
Me (before the great hair debauchery of 2008)…
and here (in my moment of insanity) red…
This is just bad…and I need Botox and Restylane. LAWD, HALP ME!!!!!
Since this picture, I’ve gone and got some highlights and look like I got a bad frost job. I won’t torture ya’ll with pictures. It’s that bad.
My stylist said it was a bad idea…and I’ve learned my lesson.
What to do next????
“The ship of my life may or may not be sailing on calm and amiable seas. The challenging days of my existence may or may not be as bright and promising. Stormy or sunny days, glorious or lonely nights. I maintain an attitude of gratitude. If I insist on being pessimistic, there is always tomorrow.
Today I am blessed.”
Maya Angelou, Letter To My Daughter
Oh, how I love White Chili. Even though it’s almost 8o degrees here in Kentucky, I am still longing for White Chili.
I am also longing for the Le Creuset dutch oven…hint, hint Santa Claus. (Preferably Black!)
Anyhoo, when I first heard of White Chili years ago I was aghast. White Chili…chili with chicken. How could anyone sacrilege my traditional tomato based chili. Why mess up something so superb?
Then I tried it…and I was hooked. The beans…the chicken…HEAVENLY!!!
Since I’m generous, I’m sharing.
3 cans plain Northern beans (make sure you don’t get the seasoned beans)
1 can Rotel (I use mild or medium)
1 can chicken broth
1 can Cream of Celery soup
1 can Cream of Chicken soup
1/2 small onion, chopped
3-4 chicken breast
dash of white pepper (make sure it’s white and NOT black)
In large pot, boil chicken breast until done. I boil at a minimum 30 minutes…because I’m paranoid about salmonella…but that’s a whole other post. When done, drain and shred chicken with fork. It’s easier to shred while still hot.
Then add chicken and additional ingredients back to pot.
As for the white pepper, I like alot. Play around with it. I will warn you it smells bad…kinda like cow manure…but trust me…it’s good.
Simmer soup until onions are done…30-45 minutes.
Serve topped with Monterrey Jack cheese and a dollop of sour cream.
We also like Mexican cornbread (Martha White) or tortilla chips with this dish.
AND…it’s even better the next day!!
Dear Snot Nosed Punk on my Daughter’s Bus,
I know that my daughter is gorgeous…she has my genes. I also know that she has a winning personality…again, my genes.
It is inevitable that you would fall madly in love with her. How could you not?
You apparently aren’t very smart ’cause you didn’t realize she would tell me everything. ‘Cause we’re cool like that.
When she told me all about how cute you were….where you lived…your name…etc., I smiled and laughed as if I was happy for her. But when she told me how you KISSED her on the FOREHEAD…and how it almost made her FAINT…well, I just had to control myself.
I kept my cool and smiled and talked. We talked about how boys like you are just yucky and stupid. How Momma would hurt him if he ever so much as looked at you, let alone, kiss you again.
We also talked about how Momma knows alot about the farm…and cattle…and castration. How Momma knows exactly how to do that and will if necessary.
I think we came to an understanding.
I hope you get the message. wink, wink
NOT your Future Mother in Law
Exercise your right to vote!
And for those of you who choose not to vote…keep your pie hole shut!
Happy Election Day!!!!
Back in the day when I was young, childless and carefree, I used to go to the grocery and cruise up and down the aisle casually. I wasn’t in any hurry ’cause I had all the time in the world. No one throwing eggs in the aisle…no one pooping when I forgot to bring diapers…no one opening the bag of Cheetos I had just put in the cart…no pitiful looks from all those snotty moms who have it all together.
Those were the days. I used to be so put together. Organized, energetic, well-coiffed, and snotty. I was the one at the grocery store that would look in disbelief because you brought your kid to the grocery looking straight out the homeless shelter. I knew you had money ’cause you were toting that Louis Vuitton…but your kid had on Goodwill rejects. How dare you…shame, shame, shame…everybody knows your name.
It all comes back to haunt you cause God has a sense of humor.
Today, I took my kids to town…in public…looking like trash. Oh, the horror…the inhumanity. I was exuding sexiness in my husband’s white tee (complete with yellow arm pit stains), black running shorts, Coach bag and pink flip flops…’cause PINK is my SIGNATURE color!
My youngest was in white dingy gray tee, stained with Spaghetti Oh’s and cherry Kool-Aid, Huggies bursting at the seams and barefoot. Her mouth was stained red from the nectar of toddlers and greasy from the waffle/butter/syrup combo from breakfast several hours ago, yet no one had wiped her mouth. Her fingernails were black, as were her feet. Her hair was sticky, sweaty and had a huge twist on the right from constant hair twirling.
She looked mah-ve-lous darhling. Sstraight out of Compton…straight out the trailer.
And the great thing about all of this? We saw people we knew. And they gave me that look….the look of pity, and disgust, and horror.
And you know what? I really didn’t give a crap.