THE THIRTY-NINTH SHADE OF GREY

Before we were married, I was living in Colorado and my soon to be husband was living on a farm in Missouri. One of his responsibilities on the farm was to help with herding around the cattle and hogs. To do this he occasionally used what is called a cattle whip. It is basically a stick with a piece of rope attached to the end.

When we were getting ready for him to move to Colorado, several of his friends volunteered to help him pack. In the process of packing, one of his friends stashed the cattle whip in a large box marked MASTER BEDROOM. Ha Ha. The box was sealed and loaded onto the truck.

Arriving in Colorado, the truck was unloaded and the various boxes were hauled into their designated rooms. I chuckled a little bit when I found the cattle whip stashed in one of the boxes in our bedroom. I tried to guess which one of my husband’s friends would have done this, but they would all be suspects. I guess that was why they were my soon to be husband’s friends in the first place. God love ‘em! Being in a hurry to unpack, I just stashed the cattle whip in the corner of our bedroom behind the door and forgot about it.

                                             

Cattle Whip
 

Fast forward about three months. My son Sean was in second grade. He was selected by his teachers and principal to be one of the lead characters in a school play about a circus. He was to be the ring master in the second grade’s circus scene!! We were very proud of him.

Now the year before, Sean had come home from school and informed me that I had to make him a snake costume for the school play. Snake costume? No problem. I asked Sean when he needed it, already knowing what the answer would probably be. Tomorrow. Just what I figured. So I quickly threw together some fabric and scales and slithers and made him a snake costume. Remember now, it was late and I was tired. And several glasses of wine can adjust your perspective. The next night at the school play, I burst out laughing when Sean the Snake came bouncing on stage. Parents all around me were staring at me and slowly moving away as I sat there roaring with laughter, tears streaming down my face. Instead of a fearsome snake, all I could see was this giant ribbed condom bouncing and weaving on stage. I called Sean Trojan for several months after that. But, anyway.

Trojan the Snake
 

As the date for this year's school play approached, we helped Sean rehearse his ring master lines and worked with him to get his character just right. Things were going very well, or so we thought. Sean came home from school one day and had the costume list of things that he needed for the school play. Pretty basic ringmaster stuff: a dove tailed coat, a top hat and a crop. There was also a hand written note from his teacher at the bottom of the list that said “Call me ASAP.”

Sean the Ringmaster
 

When I called the next morning, the teacher proceeded to tell me how she had gone over the costume lists with each of the kids. She asked the kiddos if anyone had any questions. Of course, Sean raised his little hand.

“What’s a crop?” Sean asked.

“It’s like a small whip.” The teacher explained.

“Oh, okay,” Sean answered. “My mom keeps one of those behind her bedroom door.”

The next parent/teacher conference was very interesting.

                                                              VACATION FOOD

  One of the great things about going back home on vacation is that I can load up on all of the foods from my childhood. While some of these items I have recipes for and can make them, they just don’t taste the same! You can ask anyone of my friends and family- my cooking is not great! I was too busy screwing around outside as a kid and was not paying any attention to what my mother was doing in the kitchen. Food just magically appeared every night at 5. What a life!

  Anyway, the items I was looking forward to is as follows- Yuengling beer, teaberry ice cream, whoopie pies (not the crappy ones you get in the grocery store, but home made by the Amish ones), a cheese steak from Philly, city chicken, good Lebanon Bologna, potato filling (most of you know this as stuffing and no it is not even close to Stove Top), NY style pizza, Diffenbach’s chips, Yuengling, etc. (I know I have the Yuengling beer in there twice- it was THAT important). Well I am pleased to announce I have every single one of the items on my list- and some more than once- haha. I had to quit drinking after day 3- I wanted to remember some of the trip! But eating, on the other hand, was a different story.

   First stop after we got off the plane- Jim’s Cheesteaks in Philly.   Last time we were in Philly we had Genos’, this time we went to Jim’s. It was fantastic! Missy also had a cooler in the car full of Yuengling and Diffenbach’s potato chips for our ride home- what a deal!

 

 

  That night was my first taste of Teaberry ice cream in 10 years- and it was as fantastic as I remembered. This flavor is very local to this area- and cannot be found anywhere else. Believe me, I have looked. I had a stupid boyfriend once that compared it to Pepto Bismol- dumbass LOL.NOT EVEN CLOSE

 

     On Friday we went to an Amish farmers’ market. They had all sorts of food stands, plus a bakery (whoopee pies for miles),  a doughnut stand, a few different meat cases, etc. It was incredible. There were Amish women baking the pies in front of us- my son, who works in a grocery store bakery, was most impressed. Evidently all of his bakery items come in frozen and they just throw it in the oven.  He was also amazed that these prices were cheaper than the ones in his store- and the items were obviously more fresh here at the market. There was also a food court there as well- and oh dear. What do I choose for lunch? We all went with home-made barbecue, sides, and home-made root beer. Now, I got sick once as a kid on root beer so it is not my favorite, but I thought I would try it anyway.  Holy mother- this was the best freakin root beer I have ever had! I wish I could have shipped a case home! Even the bottle was cool-

That night I got my first taste of great pizza of the trip- it was fantastic.  There are a bunch of little Italian places all over that all make fantastic pies. HEAVEN!

 

   The next day was the graduation party- where I got my Lebanon bologna. OMG- I could have eaten the whole damn ring. I did test it as I was cutting it up for the meat/cheese tray. I am all about quality control people!

        On Tuesday my niece had us over to her place for lunch, where I got in my city chicken fix. It is called city chicken as during the war chicken prices were so high that people started using beef and pork instead. City chicken is not really chicken- it is beef, pork and veal on a stick. It can also be any of the mentioned combinations-and the meat can be cubed or ground. I prefer the cubed myself. My niece made it with beef and pork. After marinating the cubes overnight, you place the cubes on a stick, then dip them in an egg wash and bread them. You then fry them for a bit, cover them and toss them in the oven for a while. There are also recipes out there that you can steam them in between- not really necessary.  HOLY CRAP Amy did a great job- I could have eaten a dozen, but figured I should share! Of course now my son loves it and now I bet I will be asked to make them. GREAT- not!

 

  No trip back home is complete unless it includes a trip to Shady Maple, a Mennonite smorgasbord that is absolutely wonderful. Over 200 feet of home prepared Pennsylvania Dutch food. I could gorge on the dessert selection alone!!

  The food at our B and B was fantastic as well, but I will go into that more when I do the B and B blog.

 I am getting together with some friends for a sew day Sunday- I will have some good quilt pics for you after that.

   Thanks for reading- and I hope this made you all hungry and thirsty!   As I am typing this I am really needing a home-made root beer and a whoopie pie!

THE MIDNIGHT MASSACRE

            First, let me say it wasn’t really midnight. I just thought it would be a cool title for a blog. Besides, it is much more alliterative than the 3:32 am massacre. (And I always wanted to use the word alliterative in a story too.)

 

            Now, my husband and I have a nice queen sized bed. It works just fine for just the two of us, if you know what I mean. However, when you start adding critters, it can get rather crowded, and dangerous.

            Dale, our little girl wiener dog, likes to burrow under quilts and sleep snuggled up next to me. Chip, the boy wiener dog, likes to sleep on top of the quilts, safely snuggled by Bob’s knees. From this vantage point he can safely and loudly bark at everything that goes bump in the night. Our little cat George spends the first part of the night doing cat things all over the place, but usually ends up at the foot of the bed at some point during the night. Newman our 1200 lb. cat, sleeps in a cushion next to the bed, but always comes over when somebody moves – I guess just to see what is going on.

 

            Early this morning, Newman came over to check on us and promptly fell asleep curled up next to Bob. No big deal. Many times during the night, Dale will get restless and will burrow further and further under the quilts until she comes out at the bottom of the bed. Then she will march up to the head of the bed and start the process all over. This was what she did at 3:32 AM this morning.

            However, during the long march in the dark to the head of the bed, Dale stepped on the sleeping Newman. This scared the hell out of Newman who proceeded to make a frenzied escape from whatever was attacking him over Bob’s head.

            In the process, as he was trying to gain traction for his escape, Newman proceeded to claw Bob in the eye and face. Bob let out a loud word, which woke me up. I heard this loud Meeeeeooooower noise as Newman was sent flying cross the room and crashing into my makeup table. Lipstick, compacts and tubes of war paint (don’t ask) went flying everywhere. I looked over to see Bob standing next to the bed holding his hand to his face. He muttered a few words trying to explain what happened as he dashed to the bathroom.

            You should know that Bob remains calm in almost all situations, so I wasn’t overly concerned. The dogs both decided that they may be blamed for whatever just happened and thought it best if they both went outside. So, I groggily climbed out of bed and let the little bastards darlings out.

            After I watched them pee and listened to them bark, I let them back in and gave them their reward for not peeing in the bed. As I slowly staggered back to the bedroom, I noticed my wounded husband was still in the bathroom. He was standing at the sink with a wad of toilet paper pressed against his face. There were piles of blood soaked wadded up toilet paper scattered around the bathroom. Holy Shit!!! There was blood all over his face, chest and hands. Holy more shit!!

            My immediate reaction was to call 9-1-1, but three things stopped me. Ever since my husband had a massive pulmonary embolism a few years ago, he has been on blood thinners and is susceptible to bleeding – lots of bleeding. Second, he is very averse to using ambulances. And third, we, or I, had a very bad experience the last time I tried to call an ambulance for him. Here is that story-

            Several days after Bob was released from the hospital  he started to have a nosebleed. And it wouldn’t quit. I was working at a quilt shop and he was home alone. He texted me about the nosebleed. I called and asked if he wanted me to come home or, or should I call an ambulance. The hospital folks had warned him about nosebleeds when he was discharged. He told me it would eventually quit and to definitely not call an ambulance. About an hour later he called and asked if I could come home. The nosebleed wouldn’t stop and he thought that perhaps he should go the emergency room. And again, no, do not call an ambulance.

            I told my most understanding boss what was going on and headed home. I don’t recall how fast I was going but I made the normally 20 minute drive in 10 minutes. I get home to find Bob with his shirt soaked with blood and large blood clots all over the damn place. I took one look at him and called for the ambulance. So, we headed outside, blood dripping from Bob’s nose and waited for the ambulance. I ran back in and grabbed some make up remover cloths and attempted to clean him up a bit- he looked like something out of the Walking Dead.

            The ambulance and fire truck arrived and the paramedics jumped out and started treating him. I heard one of the medics ask him what happened. So the smart ass looks over at me, winks, and proceeds to tell the medic that I had hit him in the nose. That SOB!

            Now I am escorted by one of the fireman who arrived with the ambulance off to the side- Did I really hit him?? NO I DID NOT! I did not hit him but I am going to kill him as soon as you guys leave. Bob explained to the medic that he was just joking, but that didn’t seem to make a difference.

            I could hear them asking him questions like “Do you feel safe?” or “Has anyone tried to harm you?” Another fireman and a medic come over and grilled me some more.  Now I never knew those heart monitor thingys in an ambulance can be used as lie detectors. Or as instruments of torture. I expected at any moment that I was going to be water boarded.

            We finally got everything straightened out and the medics said that it would be best if I took Bob in my car to a nearby neighborhood ER. They said he would not bleed to death in the time it would take to get him to the ER- too bad! Damn them!!! I had defied his wishes and called them. Now they were agreeing with him and saying their presence wasn’t required. Maybe I really should have hit him. End of that fun story.

            So anyway, I am standing in the bathroom door last night, thinking about the last time I saw him covered in blood, and was wondering if I should call an ambulance. He started to replace the damped toilet paper and showed me a gash running from just below his eye clear down to his jawbone. My immediate thought was that if I call an ambulance he will tell them that I attacked him with a rotary cutter.

            He continued to press the damp compress against his face. I dug out some Neosporin which he applied. The bleeding eventually stopped and we went back to bed.

            Newman had followed Bob into the bathroom and had been meowing his concern the whole time, having forgotten about his flight across the bedroom. I snuggled up closely next to Bob, much to the chagrin of the wiener dogs. Chip snuggled as close to Bob as he could get, ready to bark at anything that posed a threat. And when Dale couldn’t wiggle her way under the quilts, she came up and laid on my head.

            This morning Bob has a long scar on his face. I am sure he is going to have fun explaining that one. So, please do not believe whatever story he tells you. And he is not really auditioning for a part in that new TV show ZOO, although they may be interested in Newman.

            The real irony of the whole thing is that at 12:01 AM, Bob became eligible for Medicare. They would have paid for the friggin’ ambulance!