Snake, Rattle and Roll

It’s another wild day in the life of me,
Which means it’s also another crazy post.
One day last week, I did something new
It was a day with those I love most.

It was another fun day with friends and our Jeep,
Before we left, I packed us a big lunch.
As we drove to the woods where we’d spend most of our day,
I thought about how much I loved this crazy bunch.

We spent the day driving through dark green woods,
And some rocks and then, the creek,
I decided to do my best today,
To not act like a scared, crazy freak.

As we drove along the road on our way,
There was a truck stopped just ahead,
Why were they blocking and stopped in the road?
And then we saw it lying there, almost dead.

They had stopped to take care of this,
And I jumped out to get a closer look,
Yes, I almost peed down my leg,
When its head moved toward my foot.

Somehow the thing was still moving,
Despite the rock to the head,
According to some they move till sundown
And then, they’re really dead.

Less than an hour later,
Something bizarre took place,
If you have a squeamish stomach
You might want to turn your face.

Something I never thought I’d do,
And no, this one is not fake.
The fellas had beheaded it earlier,
How did I end up holding a rattlesnake?

In forty years, I had never seen one,
But within an hour, I seen two,
Even without a head, it still moved
I squealed and yelled to my crew.

Not many of our group held it,
I guess I can understand why
Still can’t believe I held that thing,
And didn’t kill over and die.

This is one Jeep outing I won’t forget
I’m crazy for goodness’ sake,
And you guys will probably always remember,
The one where Princess Julie held the snake.

Have a great Monday, y’all!

Peach Cobbler Crisp

After running errands earlier this evening, McDaddy, the boys and I stopped for dinner at Bob Evans. Did you know they offer a free kid’s meal for every adult meal purchased in July? (And no, before you ask, this is not a sponsored post.)  Anyway, dinner. At Bob Evans. When the waitress came over to take our drink order, she said five words that left me in shock.






Seriously, how can we as a nation put a man on the moon, yet, allow ourselves to get to a point where we run out of coke.

In forty years on this earth, I don’t think I’ve ever experienced an emergency situation like this one in a restaurant.

As it turns out, this particular Bob Evans was also FRESH OUT OF baked potatoes, macaroni and cheese, ice cream, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, chocolate chips, bananas, and the COKE.

Ya’ll, that is A LOT of food for one Bob Evans to be out of. I’m thinking maybe there might be a management position open at the Bob Evans on Alex Lane today.

I love Pinterest.

What? My mind hops around like a jack rabbit.

And by I love Pinterest, I mean I triple puffy heart type of love.

A couple of weeks ago, I found a recipe over there that I just have to share.

As you will recall, I have  three requirements for any recipe I share here on the blog:

  • fast
  • easy
  • fail proof

(Though if I’m being honest, the words fail and proof are laughable when you consider that I once burnt a cup of instant macaroni and cheese in the microwave because I forgot to add the water.)

Here are the short cast of characters.




  • 1 large can of peaches*
  • 1 Yellow cake mix
  • 1 stick of butter


  1. Preheat the Oven to 350 degrees.
  2. In a 9×13 backing pan, dump the peaches and the juice.
  3. Sprinkle the cake mix evenly over the peaches.
  4. Melt the stick of butter and pour it evenly over the cake mix.
  5. Place in the oven and bake for 30-35 minutes or until it is bubbly.

*You may also substitute pears, apples, cherries OR fruit pie filling.


See how easy that is?

Dump peaches and juice into your 9×13 baking pan. (You don’t even dirty a bowl) If you are not a fan of big chunks of fruit, you could cut your peaches in half.

Pour the cake mix over the peaches.

If your OCD is offended by the cake mess, use a fork to spread the cake evenly amongst its peach friends.

Next, melt a stick of butter of pour it evenly over the cake mix.

Now, just imagine a great picture of a crispy piece of peach cobbler fresh out of the oven.

Unfortunately, I forgot to take that particular picture.

Like I said, easy, quick and fail-proof.






What I Learned This Week

As I sit here on the big, blue, bloggy couch and type this post, McDaddy is whispering all kinds of nonsense in my ear making me do the crazy laugh.

I wish you could know him personally.

He is nine kinds of fun, all wrapped up in a handsome, patient, sweet package.

But that’s not what I learned this week.

Here’s what I actually learned this week.

1. When your non-piano-playing kid starts playing an actual song on the piano, there’s a pretty good chance his piano-playing cousin taught him.

2. When their non-piano-playing kid starts playing an actual song on the piano, the piano-playing mother AND the piano-playing father will look at each other in amazement.

3. Then the piano-playing mother will decide that her guitar-lesson-taking son should also be learning to play the piano because OHMYWORD I love the sound of the piano so much better than the guitar.

4. When you dread scanning more than 50 pictures for more than two weeks, you will feel like a boss once you finally take the time to get the job done.

5. My pepperoni rolls are best when they first come out of the oven.

6. I like my homemade pepperoni rolls better than any others I’ve tasted.

7.  As of about five minutes ago, both of my non-piano-playing children have agreed to give piano lessons a try in the fall.

8. That makes this piano-playing mama very happy.

9. Pinterest is one of the best websites of my time.

10. A mole is a scary lookin’ creature.

11. The body of a beheaded rattlesnake will still move for at least an hour after it is decapitated.

12. The rattler on a rattlesnake still rattles after its death, simply by shaking it.

That’s what I learned this week.

Now, what did YOU learn?

To join in on the What I Learned This Week carnival, simply follow these steps.

1. Any time this week, publish your What I Learned This Week post on your blog and link to this post.

2. Link up with the Mr. Linky form down below. Please put the link to your POST, not the front page of your blog.

3. Then visit the other participants and see what they learned this week.

Easy enough?

Ready. Set. Go!

My Fillings About The Dentist – Take 2

More than six years ago, I wrote a post titled “my fillings” about the dentist. (And if you happen to take a trip into my archives, please excuse those stupid squares you see strewn about that post. Y’all, the crazy characters are making me crazy to the point that I don’t want to even go back and look at old posts, because I can’t stand to see them.) And before you suggest that I go in and edit the characters to remove them from the post, I can’t do that. I can’t do that because while installing my new blog design, Heather my technical team sent me a text that said, “Working on those characters now. DO NOT go in and edit any posts that have those characters…. just trust me on that one.”

And since I trust her with my bloggy life, I do what she tells me to do regarding matters of the blog.  And then I come here every evening and complain about the characters, because THAT is something I can do.

Do you see how easy I get off track?

Where was I?

Oh, right, the Dentist.

My Dentist recently left the Dental practice he shared with two other Dentists to open his very own office. Today was my first visit to the new office. Since I’ve never been big on change, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about his fancy new office on the Boulevard.

For starters, this was the view from my dental chair

The previous office was dark and drab and boring.

On top of this spectacular view of the Kanawha River, there was a television at each new massaging dental chair.

Yes, you heard me right.

I said, massaging. dental. chair.

Can I get a HOLLA?

The only thing missing was an ocean breeze, sea-gulls squawking and a fruity drink with a little yellow paper umbrella.

As I sat in that massaging chair, all sprawled out, watching “Let’s Make A Deal” it dawned on me that I could have invented that massaging dental chair because I have remarked to McDaddy on several different occasions that a massage chair would take the dental visit to a whole new level.

Or something like that.

And as is usually the case, I was right.

On top of all that newfound dental fabulosity, I didn’t get the dreaded floss lesson and subsequent place of honor on the “Need To Floss More Wall Of Shame” which is a miracle, because I – unlike McDaddy – do not faithfully floss every single day like I should. But, I am getting better.

The moral of this story is, now that there’s a massage chair, my “fillings” about the Dentist have changed.

Have a great weekend, y’all!

I Spent Five Years In Jail

Eight years ago I walked out of jail for the last time.

I had an infant at home and I looked forward to the challenges and the excitement that lay ahead. Because I was prematurely put on bed rest before having Stevie, I made the decision to go back to work long enough to work out a two week notice. Mostly because that’s how I roll, but also because I needed closure that could only be brought about by a last day. Still I knew a part of me would miss the place. For five years I roamed the halls – walkie-talkie in hand – amongst the crazy people.

The daily unknown.

The clanging of the metal bars as I entered the secured area.

And most of all THE CRAZY.

Have I ever mentioned how CRAZY jail is? The inmates. The employees. All of it. Every single bit of it was crazy. Fights broke out. Grown men cried. Grown women started fights over something as simple as a biscuit. I saw blood. And death. There were shakedowns. And uprisings. There were bets on the gender of my unborn baby (2 packs of ramen noodles said it was a boy!), movies on the weekends, haircuts on Mondays, and commissary one day a week. I saw grown men confined to a stokes basket in the booking department because they were a whole new brand of crazy. Kitchen trustees paused their daily push-ups in the kitchen floor long enough to stir the beans. Mothers called to inquire about the treatment of their angels. Girlfriends showed up to visit, only to find out there was also a wife.

Like I said. Crazy.

As you might imagine, I fit in perfectly there for five years.

Now, um, I’m not so sure. You know, because I am a refined stay-at-home-self-proclaimed-princess.

I haven’t made mention of it yet here on the blog, but last Tuesday? Um, last Tuesday, I was there all over again.

As I approached the counter, I was assigned a number. That number would be my number, and for the remainder of my time there, I would be known simply, by that number.

It was hot and muggy. Rows and rows of people glared at me.

Anxious people were all around me.

All of them waiting.

Waiting to hear their number called signaling their time is done.

All of them thinking there are few places worse than where they are right now. And I would have to say I completely agree with them.

I take a seat and I quickly survey the room.

It is there.

The crazy.

In all of its unfound glory, it is there.

The wringing of hands.

The nervousness.

Even I, myself am jittery.

I hear people pleading.

One man is pleading about paperwork and I shake my head hoping against all hope that it doesn’t come to that for me. The pleading does not stop. It gets on my nerve because I know that I am stuck here. Powerless.

I look up to see a man having his picture taken. He has a scowl on his face and I can surely understand why. This place stinks and these folks couldn’t care less how your picture turns out. They are here to do a job. Period. Each person is but another number.

Each and every individual approaches the door with fear and apprehension because they are trying to come to terms with the fact that short of a miracle, they will most likely be here awhile. Many of them wonder if they’ll make it out alive. They are skeptical.

And they have reason to be.

There are crazy people here.

Crazy people with lots of attitude.

Scores to settle.

I am bored. Bored of being packed in here like a sardine. Bored of the time I am wasting because after all I do not belong here. I am here because they said I had to be.

I am not crazy, yet I am here amongst the crazy.

It is hot.

Did I mention it was hot? So hot, in fact, a bead of sweat dropped from my brow. I quickly wipe it and attempt to stay focused. I keep to myself thinking it might make things easier for me. I do not make eye contact with anyone. I do not want to look crazy in the eye. I have enough crazy at my own place. Plus, you never know when one of these jokers might snap. They arrived here long before I did, so their crazy meters are off the charts. I see all walks of life. Each with a different story. All of them wishing they were somewhere else.

Anywhere but this hot, cramped, crazy place.

I’m the new girl in town. If there is a seat I will get one. If not, I will stand. That’s just the way the pecking order works in a place like this. I focus on the flashing light. I wonder when my time will come. When the light will flash with my number. The number they gave me when I arrived. I have not forgotten the number. I will NOT forget the number. The number is mine and mine only.

Must stay focused.


I need water.

My mouth is parched. My throat is dry. I break out in a sweat. I wonder if I’ll ever get out of this place. I wonder if I’ll still be here at lunch time. I can’t imagine the thought, but in this place anything is possible. I’m at their mercy. The mercy of these people who say I must. be. here. at this time.

I see more hand wringing.

More attitude.

I squirm in my chair and pray that it will be over soon.

I’ve had all the crazy I can handle.

And finally, just before noon, my number is called.

I step to the window, receive my walking papers, and get released from jail the D. M. V. just before lunchtime.

Whew. For a minute I wondered if I’d make it out alive.

Try to keep yourself out of jail AND the D.M.V.

Happy Thursday, y’all!

(Originally posted in 2010, this one was pulled from the archives.)