We Are Family


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“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other’s life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.”  ―    Richard Bach,    Illusions

Good mornin kitties….it is a lovely mornin. Today I would like to talk about the family. I have a pet peeve in my life, and it’s been goin on for quite a while. It all started when I was a small child. You see kitties, I was adopted. I have mentioned in my previous post that I was the only child with red hair in a family of brunettes and well, this is why. Yes, this was somewhat confusin for a while, but I could live with that as I progressed through childhood. What didn’t leave me so unscathed was the fact that everytime I turned around, I was reminded by these horrible children called my cousins (on my daddy’s side) that I wasn’t part of the family because I wasn’t their blood. I would go home askin questions after the every other weekend stay at the grandparent’s house and my mother would just tell me to nevermind and tuck me into my bed and the next thing I’d know, yellin and screamin in the other room would ensue. I soon learned to keep THAT to myself.

So kitties, I progressed through womanhood and got married to a man who already had a son and became a (gasp) stepmama myself. Unfortunately, I was very young and we didn’t see him much during his childhood so I didn’t get to be a very good stepmama, which I regret now, but I never once thought or dismissed him as “not counting” because he wasn’t of my blood! I soon had 3 children in that marriage and after a time, divorced their daddy. Life went on …..

Then, I met someone else..and had my youngest. Never once thought about how she “fit in” the family. She was a sister to my already established brood of children. The end. Right? Well, you would think so. Not quite kitties. And this is where my blood has been simmerin ever since! This is where you might want to start making mental notes and scannin your brain to see if you may have ever been guilty of this yourself…either conciously or unconciously…it’s okay, really, that’s what I’m here for…sit down, get comfy…I’ll probably get a little worked up for a bit and then I’ll calm down. I promise.

Yes, darlins, my daughter has a different last name than my other children. But, my other daughter has a different last name now too because she is married. Why do charmin certain people now assume that ALL of my children have different fathers? Really, you must think I was awfully busy. And what kind of manners do you have in the first place to just inquire personal questions in the first place? Have you not heard of the word decorum? Here it is: an observance or requirement of polite society. Please start practicin it!  Anyway…I digress.  Then, to make it worse…one of my children referred to her as a “half-sister”. Excuse me? She is your sister. SISTER. No halves about it. I read the riot act for quite a while on THAT wording.

I also was taken back to a time when I was watchin some tv show back in the 70’s (yes, I’m THAT old) when they were teasin some child and they were tellin him he was adopted and the poor child was reduced to tears! Then I remembered my older 2 children who were 18 months apart teasing my younger son who was 6 years younger than they are one day that HE was adopted. Really, adoption has that much of a stigma? Like it’s the worst thing in the world? It sets you apart and makes you this unlovable freak? You don’t fit? That’s it!!! (flashback, foamin at the mouth)  Look at a recent episode of the Kardashians! (okay, I do NOT watch this stupid show…I read about it on WetPaint online one day out of pure boredom…if I start actually watching this show, you can take all of my shoes away kitties, I promise) Apparently Khloe felt she didn’t fit in with the family so she must not be a real Kardashian so she wanted a dna test. So she must have only been a half sister. Really?

Okay kitties, stand back because here I go: I don’t care if you are adopted, fostered, have the same mother, father, or half of someone’s mother or father or a stepparent or sibling! I don’t care if you only see each other on the weekends, every day, live with them fulltime or have a long distance relationship with them. I don’t care if you grew up with them or you see them occasionally. You do not need to label someone with the words “ADOPTED” or “STEP” or “HALF” .  This is insulting, belittling, and hurtful. You do not need to make someone feel less than you. You do not need to separate them from the family or make them feel unimportant because they do not have the exact same genetics as you do. How they got into the family is unimportant. The fact that they are in the family is all that should matter. You should embrace them with both arms and love them.

Society has so many labels for so many people. We don’t like this person because they are gay, we don’t like this person because of their color, we don’t like this person because of their politics or religion. Why oh why can’t we stop it when it comes to our families? Our families are our safe havens where we should find warmth and comfort and be who we want to be with acceptance and unconditional love from everyone in it. We can’t provide that to each other if we are separating each other with labels. It just burns me up when I hear that half/step thing in there. (and I better not hear “adopted” either)!!!

Blood has nothing to do with family. Family is belonging. Family is who loves you. Family is who is there for you.

So, THAT, kitties, is what has gotten me so riled up and has had me riled up for years. Today is a monumental day for me in that I have a very special member of my family coming to town and I am welcoming him with open arms. It has brought back lots of reminders to me of my own feelings and I wanted to jot this down briefly as my day enfolded.

Soon, I will be back with a follow up to this about JUDGEMENT, the in-law/out-law diatribes…..oh, it will be a good one kitties.. I promise to wax poetic about that little topic. Until then, I leave you with this little thought about family…

“What is home? My favorite definition is “a safe place,” a place where one is free from attack, a place where one experiences secure relationships and affirmation. It’s a place where people share and understand each other. Its relationships are nurturing. The people in it do not need to be perfect; instead, they need to be honest, loving, supportive, recognizing a common humanity that makes all of us vulnerable.”
―    Gladys Hunt,    Honey for a Child’s Heart: The Imaginative Use of Books in Family Life

Now come over to Miss Scarlett and give me a hug…..


Where manners go to die


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Well kitties, excuse me while I try to get over the fact that no one has proper breedin’ and etiquette anymore.

I am just appalled with the lack of southern charm and grace goin’ on in 2012. I don’t know who to blame at this point or when it exactly started, but I am just shocked.

Everyone knows this is my pet peeve..lack of manners. Y’all, my blood is boilin over~ how hard is it to adhere to some sort of protocol in life? Otherwise we will walk around like undignified animals! What’s to stop us from grunting at each other anymore? As a wise woman once said “The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize.”  Thank you Clairee from Steel Magnolias! and must I say, some people can’t even do THAT properly.

What has started me off on this, dear kitties, is my daughter’s baby shower this past weekend. As a proper Southern lady, I made sure I ordered printed invitations and addressed them within 3 weeks of the event. I even noted on the invitation that RSVP regrets only by a certain date and provided my phone number. Well, weeks passed by and my daughter got sorries on facebook and word of mouth, but no one bothered to pay attention to the invitation~ then the date came and went that they were supposed to reply by. Well, your Scarlett has faith in people and carried on with preparations assumin that we would have a large group attending.

Imagine my surprise when the day came, rain was predicted and I had to move the whole thing inside my little house! Panic stricken at the thought of not being a good hostess and makin people comfortable, I ran around like a maniac prettyin’ things up and fittin chairs all around. I double checked the punch and drinks, made sure there were plenty of napkins and plates and arranged the gift bags ten times.

Well, kitties, people showed up one by one and it was nowhere near the count expected. Where were these no shows? Didn’t they know they were supposed to reply a week ago? Worst yet, my own sister in laws didn’t bother to call me or say they weren’t comin! I simmered on that one a while. Then, to my dismay…I asked my mother in law where they were. Just like that, demanded to know outright. I paused and watched her squirm in her seat, utter some ummms and ahhhhs before she finally croaked out an answer. All I could think was “and how hard was it to rsvp?”  then I got very agitated with them because I go to every single event they have for THEIR children. 

Well kitties, needless to say, I had tons of cake, punch and favors left over. I spent more money than I should have based on proper manners being upheld. That bein’ said, I packed up the cake and favors and went on.

The more I thought about it, reflecting and simmering…I had the notion that maybe it was ME. Maybe I expect more than what society has to offer anymore. Maybe this new millenium has done away with all things proper and we really are goin to hell in a handbasket!  I looked up RSVP to make sure and this is what I found:

“What RSVP Means

The term RSVP comes from the French expression “répondez s’il vous plaît”, meaning “please respond”. If RSVP is written on an invitation it means the invited guest must tell the host whether or not they plan to attend the party. It does not mean to respond only if you’re coming, and it does not mean respond only if you’re not coming (the expression “regrets only” is reserved for that instance). It means the host needs a definite head count for the planned event, and needs it by the date specified on the invitation.

Why It’s Inconsiderate Not to RSVP

An incomplete list of respondents can cause numerous problems for a host including difficulty in planning food quantities, issues relating to minimum guarantees with catering halls, uncertainty over the number of party favors and difficulties in planning appropriate seating, among other things.”

Well kitties, after reading that I was completely reassured that I wasn’t losing my well mannered mind.  I think the world would be a much better place if people would adhere to simple manners. I mean, what is next? No thank you notes for gifts? I shudder to think…..

Civility costs nothin people! Please, thank you, yes m’am, no m’am and not chewin with your mouth open or clankin’ your silverwear on your dishes is expected! Napkins on your laps, elbows off the table, indulge in polite conversation and hold open doors for your ladies!  These are basic things!

quotes by Amy Vanderbilt  Sometimes I cringe to think that there are children out there who have no idea how to act! What are we going to have in 20 years? Right now we are sitting with children who text at the table, talk with full mouths, put their feet on the table, never say please or thank you and who don’t even know what RSVP is let alone what it means! Can you imagine the chaos later on when they get married or need head counts for somethin? I imagine it will be etiquette armageddon.

Which brings me to my new idea: Maybe I should have a Miss Scarlett Charm School for the Etiquettely Challenged…..

My final thought is spoken so nicely by one of my favorite Authors, who people probably don’t associate as having manners…and he was not Southern….enjoy kitties…I must bid you farewell. I’m plotting on my creative RSVP responses to future Sister In Law invitations….

“O, Times! O, Manners! It is my opinion
That you are changing sadly your dominion
I mean the reign of manners hath long ceased,
For men have none at all, or bad at least;
And as for times, altho’ ’tis said by many
The “good old times” were far the worst of any,
Of which sound Doctrine I believe each tittle
Yet still I think these worst a little.

I’ve been a thinking -isn’t that the phrase?-
I like your Yankee words and Yankee ways –
I’ve been a thinking, whether it were best
To Take things seriously, Or all in jest” 
―    Edgar Allan Poe,    Poetry, Tales and Selected Essays


Red on the Head


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Well hello kitties…it’s been a while. Mama’s back. Scooch in here, put your feet up and have some tea with me while we talk about this whole “Ginger” phenomenon. I don’t know about you, but this discrimination against us redheads has got to stop! Never mind this Chick Fil A nonsense goin’ on. This is SERIOUS.

I remember growing up and being the only redhead in a family of brunettes. I didn’t know what to make of “milkman” jokes that I constantly heard as a youngster or the tauntings of “I’d rather be dead than red on the head” and “come here and let me beat you like a redheaded stepchild”…not to mention the lovely comparisons to Ronald McDonald, Pippy Longstocking and any other horrible creature that had red hair.  I used to feel different and as I got older, my red hair began to feel more like a curse than a blessing. I subscribed to Teen Magazine and Seventeen Magazine. I would pour thru those every month looking for someone who actually looked like me to no avail. Everyone had blonde or brunette hair. That WAS it, I was a freak. At least in the eyes of the public and models everywhere.

So I did what I could, I carried on and sucked it up. I would “lay out” in the summer with my friends putting a towel over my face hoping my freckles would stay away. While they put lemon juice in their hair for highlights, I smeared it on my face at night to fade those awful brown spots. It was a neverending battle and I was not winning. Then, something magical happened….Molly Ringwald appeared from out of NOWHERE!

 The Angels sang and all was well in the world! Finally someone who looked like me, with red hair, freckles and a sarcastic temperment appeared in a MOVIE. It was okay to have red hair and freckles! She was cool~! At that moment, I decided I would embrace my redhead status and go with it.

Suddenly men were staring at me, telling me I was gorgeous, my HAIR was gorgeous. That my freckles were angel kisses! I was being told I looked like Nicole Kidman, Ann Margaret and Reba! This was too good to be true after listening to all the clown comparisons growing up. It was so freeing! I felt good about myself! I didn’t comb thru magazines looking for someone that looked like me anymore because I was unique!

So, I’ve traveled thru my 40 something years being me, loving and embracing my hair and freckles…I’ve done research to find out all the people in history with red hair http://listverse.com/2008/10/12/top-25-famous-redheads/ and found a lot of wonderful redhead quotes about us http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/redheads as well.  I maintain my copper tresses every 4 weeks now, but even if I had the opportunity to change my hair color, I wouldn’t. It’s simply ME.

However, suddenly, out of NOWHERE (and not glorious like my Molly Ringwald experience) comes this Anti-Ginger movement. I blame SouthPark (even though I actually love SouthPark) and Carrot Top…for the whole Ginger debaucle. And yes, I know the term originated in Great Britain first. I see Ginger insults hurled everywhere in the media! Of course some are hilariously funny and I can’t help laughing about them…..

but come on people! Look where this is going! How long before gingercide occurs based on panic and fear? Look at history and the myths about us! http://www.purgatory.net/kornelia/1603/red_hair_facts.htm  Look at Ron Weasley! We must stop the panic and go back to embracing the redhead before it’s too late! We must embrace our new redheaded children and make them feel superior and special! Not like second class citizens! I vow to fight this discrimination by being the best redhead I can be! To uphold the redhead code and act accordingly!!! Redheads unite!

and just to show I am in this for the long haul….I have a very retro red wig for when I’m 90 and I am so going to rock that with my support hose and walker with the pink tennis balls on the ends….

So what about it kitties…..are you in?

The Real Housewives of Southern Ohio?


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Well Hello there kitties! I know it’s been a long time since I’ve last chatted with you all! Let’s just say that I’ve been adjustin’ to married life again, dealin’ with a teenage daughter, and tryin’ to find myself. What? You didn’t know I had lost myself? Well darlins, I have.  I don’t know if it was the whole excitement of the wedding being over, being in a job that was increasingly painful to attend everyday, or just feelin old in general. In this quest to figure out what the heck was goin on, I started daydreamin a lot about life in general….then I started watchin a lot of weird tv shows.

Now those of you who know me can attest, I’ve always been a Southern Belle trapped in a geologically compromised body and era. I don’t comprehend this century very well or manners or lack of good breeding or most of the other things that can’t be explained by reality tv. I don’t understand what is so wonderful about women who have to find love in public from 8pm til 10pm and make total fools of themselves in front of the entire country, or beat up other girls and threaten them while talking like a truck driver and wearing horrible stretchy dresses and platform shoes. Don’t get me started on that mess Snookie! I get rather appalled at the fact our daughters are watching these (I use the term loosely) girls…and emulating the behaviors I see! Scares me much! Not just a little-much! But I digress…(here I go again kitties….) But then…I found it…the one show that lured me in and I was hooked like a little girl on her first Barbie doll!  I am talking about “The Real (haha) Housewives of Beverly Hills”…

Yes, my shameful little addiction is this show. Now, how to put it into a synopsis for those of you who have not been lured in by the total unreality of it all…I guess the easiest thing to catch you up would be to torture you and tell you to review at www.bravo.com and catch up on the episodes. Last year, Camille Grammar was the total beeotch you loved to hate and just evil, catty and made herself the victim in the “I had no idea I’m upsetting anyone” way. This year it’s Taylor Armstrong, who has lips as big and inflated as Donald Duck (couldn’t resist this picture)…who can’t make up her mind if she’s crazy, her husband is beating her, who she’s mad at, if she’s lying or all of the above. Now darlins, Beverly Hills focuses on Kyle Richards and Kim Richards (remember “Return to Witch Mountain?” me neither..) who also happen to be Paris Hilton’s aunts…then there’s the above mentioned Taylor and her mess of a con artist husband Russell who killed himself in the summer, Lisa VanderPump (named after SHOES) and her husband Ken, and they are English and own some restaurants..and their dog Jiggy who is just too cute, and Adrienne Maloof who is supposedly richer than God and owns everything and her plastic surgeon husband who I never pay any attention to. There is also Brandi who is Eddie Cibrian’s ex-wife thrown into the mix.  GIRLS! This is so sugar-coated with drama every week, I need to go to the dentist! They are total and complete train wrecks sprinkled with a heap of drama finished off by spoonfuls of SERIOUSLY? and followed off by an “I can’t believe I have to wait a week!” 

Now this led me to sit and think, what if they had a show called “The Real Housewives of Southern Ohio?” What kind of women would be picked for that? I have a lot of different types of women running thru my head kitties, and the drama would probably be a lot different from what I see on Beverly Hills…(things like “how are we going to pay our bills THIS month?” and “OMG! Where did you GET that cute sweater? I saw it over at Forever 21 at the mall” and “my daughter is driving me crazy, I wish school break was over” and “Zumba classes are finally coming to the VFW”) Hardly the things escape are made of..but it just makes me wonder…would the Real Wives of Beverly Hills be watching US thinking WE are just as fascinating as THEY are?  Hmmmm, things to ponder kittens…things to ponder anotha day…..time for me to go back to warming my tootsies and reflectin’ upon how to be a real housewife for a while…..



Don’t make me scratch your eyes out!

Carnivora for a reason


  Hello kitties….I have to rant about something that has been irritating me to no end as of late. At first it was slightly amusing but now…IT’S ON! My subject today is about Cougars.  Not the lovely kind you see on Animal Planet or at the zoo..or in my picture to the left. I mean, these animals are magnificent creatures…they have the greatest habitat of any large wild terrestrial mammal in the Western Hemisphere, extending from Yukon in Canada to the southern Andes of South America.  The cougar is a solitary hunter and not happy to share its territory with others of its kind, the cougar is an apex predator whose strong jaws, large claws and exemplary stalking abilities make its preferred prey some of the largest in America – elk, deer and moose, cougars can leap 16 feet straight up and 45 feet across. That means a Cougar can jump over a school bus – the long way. I mean, WOW and how amazing is THAT?? Powerful right?  I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to mess with a cougar…. so, why then and how, did this sleek, powerful animal get associated with another type of cougar?? Oh kitties…explore with me where everything went so horribly wrong, won’t you??? 
Let me cut your food for you big boy

Okay, look at the mess on the right……..the thing in the animal print. I know, it’s not Demi Moore…BUT…it is what the people population call a Cougar. Here’s the definition I found of a Cougar..ready??

An older woman, typically early thirties to mid-forties, who has abandoned traditional rules of romantic engagement and taken as her mission the seduction of as many game young men as she can possibly handle.
“Some Urban Cougar with a boob job tried to buy me a drink last night.”
That was from Urban Dictionary online.  Pretty accurate I guess…But wow they have cougars starting in mid 30’s…I think some girls out there would be pretty insulted at that one….I mean they can still bear children and get out there and get married…
Then I found this delightful description….Definition: A woman aged 40 years or old who preys on younger men. During a hunt, she can often be spotted by her leopard print outfit, which makes her feel and look younger.  Example: “Sweet, look at all the cougars at this bar. Looks like we’ll be getting our drinks bought for us tonight.”
The name “cougar” was used because it was associated with the leopard print clothing that was popular among these women to help them feel young. My definition of cougar places the age of the woman starting at 40. I disagree with definitions that state cougars are 35+ because it seems arbitrary. Statistically, the risk of pregnancy complications significantly increases at age 35, however, culturally that age is not very significant. However, age 40 is recognized as “over the hill” and therefore many people have their midlife crisis then. Therefore, major shifts in a person’s own identity occurs so to maintain a sense of their youthfulness, cougars will have plastic surgery, get Botox injections, and wear provocative clothing.

Very observant young man! This coming from a toddling old lady of 47. I must admit I like animal prints, especially shoes and purses and I do not shy away from an occasional sweater or cute accessory, especially the leopard kind.  However, I doubt the internet fairies can see this and follow me around all day long spying on me.

What started all of this kitties, is I kept getting Hot Cougar Singles dating suggestions in my hotmail account. I deleted them as fast as I got them because I was engaged and everything. I thought it was funny. Well, I kept getting them. Then on my facebook, I complained on my status one day. Then on my twitter account out of the blue, I had -wait for it- CougarThriller now following me! What?? Am I supposed to get all excited!Really?? I do not take this as a compliment. Then, my husbands friends were all jokey with him about me being a cougar…HELLO I’m a year and a half older than him, which hardly qualifies me as being a cougar.

Okay, now I know some of you may be thinking I’m being a bit too oversensitive to this whole thing and what’s the big deal…? Well, at this point in my life, I really don’t want to be made out to be this pathetic over the hill desperate woman who buys botox injections, boobs and saunters to bars in her leopard print spandex to get college boys drunk enough to go home with her for a wild evening so he can leave and I can sit with my cat the next night watching reruns of True Blood so I can see other shirtless hotties and practice looking like a hot vampire for the goth club the following weekend.  Not happening. Not even for a minute. Not even when I was single.  I mean, what woman out there wants a man that is so much younger than her that she feels like the cryptkeeper when the lights are back on? Or how about trying to talk about something and he gives you a blank stare  because he has NO idea what you mean. Or worse yet, he wants a mommy! ew factor just went WAY up there.  I mean, I don’t want a man I have to teach anything. Or yell at, or reason with or bribe or worry about their manners or mouth! I don’t want to compete with video games or beer pong or not be able to go out because he doesn’t have any money!  Why would any woman want to stalk THAT??? Okay, if it makes the Cougar lady feel all powerful that she’s got this young guy and she can boss him around and seduce him and all that..can I just say EWW again???

So anyway…give me a guy my age or a little older, who has a job, a car, doesn’t hang out with his buddies at bars or do beer pong anymore, isn’t fixated on his video game score or zombies, knows what current events are, has manners, and looks at me like a person, not a cat.  I will take that anyday.  Sure, I’m 47, wear animal print sometimes, have days where I actually think I’m hot and get mistaken for being younger than I am and get flirted with by younger guys…but would I be a cougar if I was single? NO WAY! So, Cougar dating online, and Cougar Thriller and whatever other Cougar calling services there are out there….leave me be or I’m gonna get my claws and scratch your eyes out! I can jump over buses you know!


Weddings: The New Prom

Well hello darlins! I would have blogged sooner, but I was a little hungover Sunday…Bless my heart. Let’s just say that I had a bit too much house wine at my new niece’s wedding Saturday night. My last blog, I was tellin’ you about my in law issue…well I figured I’d tackle this event with a positive attitude and look good doing it. I mean, it’s all in the attitude right?? So, pull up a chair, get comfy and I’ll fill you in on how the day went.

I tried to sleep in Saturday because I figured I would be well rested since I am usually passing out by ten o’clock on any given night and I didn’t want to look exhausted and be yawnin’ all over the place. My cat did not have the same idea. She started slapping me in the face with her paw around 7am and didn’t stop. She was more persistent than a fat lady at a Spanx sale on Black Friday.  So I was up while the husband slept blissfully unaware. Next I plotted my outfit. I had the whole combo going. My hairdo, the flower, the shoes, the earrings, the nail polish-everything. I was going to look good because the last time the family saw me was my wedding and I wasn’t going to have them think I looked good for my wedding and not in real life. 

**All you women know what I”m talking about here..there is “real life” and there is “your wedding day” …You look amazing on your wedding day because let’s face it, you got your makeup done, you’re wearing a dress which cost more than your rent, someone has done your hair, you have a spray tan, and if you’re lucky, your hogzilla cat let you sleep in that day so you don’t have undereye circles and bags from hell.   Then there’s the real life- The most you can hope for where you have about a half hour to throw your hair together, put on some concealer, lip gloss, masquera and hope for the best. No one wants to run into others right after the wedding and have them look at you like they have no idea who you are.

So…..(I digress….I do that alot) my husband woke up and I realized we were not going to match at all. We had to match! We are a couple! Geeze. We were the last ones to get married after all, we are like the most popular couple in high school! Everyone is going to look at us! We are Sandy and Danny and this is Grease! HELLO!!! He just shrugs like it’s no big deal. Really honey? Do you KNOW me? Sometimes I have no idea who I married. Undeterred, I find a tie that has the same colors as my dress and start to get ready. We won’t mention his shirt.

Finally I am assembled and I am ready. I have my hair-did with the extensions in, (and I must say, it is looking pretty damn good) and I am ready to make my entrance. I have my snazzy retro red rose in behind my ear, my nail polish and toes match, my platform awesome red peep toes are amazing and I am convinced I have got it going on and I am prom queen worthy, hand me my crown and scepter, get out of my way! The family will be blown away! I am awesome. Bring it on family!

Of course we are still in the dog days of summer (woof woof) and it’s hotter than HECK out there. The church ceremony was nice, the bride was beautiful and everything was sweet and innocent just like weddings are…everyone gets over to the reception after tortuously LONG family pictures (everybody hug each other and give the thumbs up!!! screamed the perky photographer!!) what??!!!! um…no thanks! I’m good! My father in law revolted and stomped outside for a cigarette.

Once at the reception, I was hot, thirsty and ready for some fun. I looked around and that’s when it hit me…weddings are basically prom for adults!! Think about it…you have couples, they buy new outfits, get all dressed up and color coordinated..they all sit at decorated tables with little favors. There’s the prom king and queen (bride and groom) there’s the class clowns (people who make the toasts, usually someone throwing some kind of inappropriate thing in there) chaperones, (kids interrupting their parent’s good time) music, the fast dances, the couples slow dancing, the reluctant slow dancers, the “I’m giving you a dirty look because you won’t slow dance with me’s”, & alcohol patrol (Uncle Bob, give me the keys…no Uncle Bob, that’s the women’s room, grandma put your shirt back on!!)

So, I treated it as our prom and we slow danced out hearts out, we were goofy -spinning around to “Dancing Queen” by Abba while his sister looked on rather envious because she was dateless and I stole her little brother from her…we fast danced to “Shout” and threw our arms up, we line danced to “It’s Electric” and even had “The Time of our Life”, got “Low” had a dirty dance off with his brother to Usher and all the while ….I kept drinking the Merlot house wine in between and accepted hugs and kisses from my new nieces and nephews all night and told my new niece how beautiful she was as a bride and was even nice to my husband’s best friend. I really made progress…I felt like a popular kid! I felt like I was a senior and it was my prom! It was the best of times! It was rainbows and kittens! Unicorns! Smurfs! I was soooo popular~!

Then it was Sunday and my head hurt, I was peeling false eyelashes off my cheek and felt like I’d been in the Sahara desert for a week. The cat stared at me judgingly as I read all the drunken posts I put on facebook, complete with pictures and comments of what not to wear as I sipped my latte and took my Excedrin…But I got through the in-law family function….!!! And I ask you…isn’t that what counts!!?? Toodles Kitties…..

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Welcome fellow kitties. If you can’t stand the heat get out of the kitchen! I haven’t been in my kitchen for days! This temperature is killing just about everybody! I am not gettin in the kitchen and turning on my oven so it can make the house even hotter. Nope, not doin it. Although I do like going online and exploring recipe sites and blogs to find out what I could cook if I chose to. Right now, I’m loving http://thepioneerwoman.com/ and her goodies. I am actually settled in to make the Cuppa Cake this weekend. Have the ingredients and everything…yah, well, we will see. I want to, it sounds so easy and effortless but we go back to the hot kitchen thing. The interest is there, but the whole effort is not.

Let me digress and go back to the Cat on a Hot Tin Roof thing. That is my reference to not only being hotter than you know what out, with everything melting and makeup sliding off your faces and hair either going flat and stringy or in my case, instantly curling and getting bigger by the second…but also to the movie. Have you seen it kitties? OMG! It is such a good movie to watch on TMC on a rainy day or even a hot day like this. It’s got everything I love. Humor, sarcasm, drama, vintage Paul Neuman and Elizabeth Taylor (when her waist was like 21 inches) snarky in laws, money grubbing good ole relatives, obnoxious children, and a crankypants old man! It’s like watching Dallas before Dallas WAS Dallas. http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof?store=dvd  (get it here) I seriously recommend. I don’t want to ruin it for those of you who haven’t seen it. But most of the movie, you are cheering for poor Maggie (ET) who is the Cat, and you want to smack Brick (PN) her husband. The inlaws are awful and you can tell all they want is Big Daddy’s money! (yes, there is a character called Big Daddy)….I know! Right??

That leads me to relatives….I was recently married. Well, remarried. I don’t like to say RE married because that implies that I married the same person again, which, thank GOD, I did not. Anyway, I have a little in law problem. What is it with in-laws anyway? What do you have to do to prove yourself worthy of their brother/sister/son/daughter’s love anyhow? Is there some obstacle test or endurance thing you have to go thru? Should there be some reality show to deem you worthy and then they have to accept you at the end of it? sigh. My sister in law gave us (us, haha, I use the term loosely) a LEAF BLOWER for our wedding present. Yeah, I’ll get a lot of use out of that one. And no, we didn’t register for a leaf blower. I’m just saying. That’s like saying “did you get married? I don’t think so..bride? what bride?” You should have read my nicely worded polite thank you note. Yes, I wrote my thank you notes as properly advised by all things southern and etiquette bound. There was just no good way to go with that one where I’m going to come off sounding thankful either way. As far as I’m concerned they did not deserve one. Well, I know that sounds awful, but that’s like my relatives giving “us” a curling iron and expecting my husband to write them a thank you note for it.

Well kitties, it’s time for me to sit back, kick off my feathered mules, and find something cool to drink. perhaps you would like to join me…here’s a nice little shooter called “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” You’ll need 1 part Amaretto Di Saronno® & 1 part Cointreau®.  Layer the Cointreau on top of the Amaretto with the help of a spoon. Serve in a frosted shot glass. If the layering doesn’t seperate them properly, it still looks and tastes great! Meow a couple of times before sampling…meow a couple of times after sampling and in between…you’ll forget about the heat..I guarantee it!