March madness

Take care of your body with steadfast fidelity.

I wonder if Goethe practiced what he preached. All I know is that every year when March rolls around, I haven’t even touched upon my annual resolution of getting in shape with proper diet and exercise. Even though the possibility of wearing my yellow polka dot bikini is no longer an issue, I still would like to give the impression that I’m, at least, in fairly good condition. For the past couple of months, I’ve been grabbing handfuls of double-coated chocolate peanuts and running past my treadmill. Unfortunately, the distance covered isn’t that great. I recently discovered that there are small packages of Jiffy cookie mixes, perfect for two people and cheap. I figured if I had to have cookies, I should have to bake them. Big deal. It only takes seconds to mix up, 10 minutes in the oven, and one hour to consume. Today is the day I turn over a new lease and take action. No more candy and cookies (a little bit won’t hurt); no more chewing tobacc-y and barroom brawls. I’m revving up to be become a lean, mean muscled machine. People will confuse me with the models on the front cover of Shape magazine. 🙂 Yes siree.

March delight

If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom.
~Terri Guillemets

While at Costco last fall, I gravitated to colorful boxes of tulip and crocus bulbs. The price looked good, but most of all, the thought of colorful blooms appearing from the ground and not just from a container was very appealing to me. I had already proven that I can grow outdoor annuals in pots. It was time to step it up a notch and introduce a perennial, and an early blooming one at that, to my small patch. Shoppers’ carts were pushing past me in the crowded aisle, and I’d hear the occasional comment from my husband, let’s go look at vacuum cleaners. I could not budge until I made my decision to buy or not buy. After minutes of serious internal debate, I snatched two, not one, but two, boxes of bulbs. If I’m going to dream, I’m going to dream big.

The other day when I chased my dog, Trixie, out of the garden, where I judiciously placed my bulbs last autumn, I saw bright yellow from the corner of my eye. (at least I still have peripheral vision) DSC00134

It’s the most delightful surprise in an otherwise dreary month.

i fought the law, and the law won.

The one thing that unites all human beings, regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background, is that, deep down inside, we ALL believe that we are above average drivers.
~Dave Barry, “Things That It Took Me 50 Years to Learn”

I was driving down the small country road on my way to the city and looking forward to lunch with my husband. Just as I was over the hill, I spot a patrol car with lights flashing heading east. I was heading west. In my rear view mirror, the black and white makes a u-ey. Instantaneously, I realized he was coming after me. After all, I was the only one on the road. I knew to pull over, even though there wasn’t an arrow on the police car directing me to do so. I’m a responsible citizen. What was a cop car doing on this one-horse road any way?
I rolled down my window to see a uniformed man with small stature but with good posture strutting to my Ford F150 pickup.
I blurted I haven’t had a speeding ticket since 1975. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t a threat to society. It didn’t matter; it didn’t matter, at all. I sat in my idling truck, which was dangerously near empty, while a $162 ticket was being written. The young officer was apologetic and said, Lady, I don’t like giving this to you, but 15 mph over the speed limit is excessive.
Excessive? We weren’t exactly in a high speed chase. (Actually, he didn’t call me lady. It just has more of a Miami Vice ring to it.) I promised I would drive safely and pay the ticket within 20 days to get 2 points removed from the offense. My husband said at least I have another 10 points before my license would be revoked.

Burn rubber, not your soul, baby.
Biker Boyz

spice of life

Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I’m taking with me when I go.
Erma Bombeck

I bit the bullet this morning and opened my spice cupboard. By looking at the variety I have amassed, one would think I attended a Le Cordon Bleu institution. There are spices that must be at least 33 years old, the length of my marriage. Any one who knew me before that knows I never picked up a spatula. There are jars in my possession that were never opened, and I ask myself what was my inspiration at the time for purchasing it. Here’s the lot, all bought in British sterling and most with price sticker still intact:

crushed red pepper, 33p… whole cloves…L1.24p L in place of the pound symbol…mild chili powder, 74p…ground allspice, 69p…minced garlic,79p…barbecue spice, 33p…garlic spice, 43p…chopped chives, price faded, so must have used it…dried parsley, 24 1/2p…ground cumin (comino),69p…ground allspice,58p cheaper than the other jar…sage,27p…bon appetit, 47p, ?????…thyme leaves, 37p…mixed herbs, 44p…bouquet garni, 24 1/2p…pure arrowroot, 47p…chicken seasoning, 37p must have really liked this; it’s a quarter full. Note the word “full”. It indicates a positive attitude.…cinnamon sticks, 79p got this for a rum drink…dill weed, 37p…rosemary, 37p…tarragon, 27p…marjoram, 29p…hot chili powder, 69p…cayenne pepper, 34p…ground cloves, 115p 115p???…basil, 52p…and, finally, two unidentifiable, visually and olfactorily, jars.

All above mentioned will be tossed into the poubelle, French for trash bin. I’m sure it’s a word used frequently at the cooking schools. I will not need to be buried with my spices; every fiber of my being abounds with spiciness.