Summer is upon us

And that means it's time for vacation for many of us you. Besides a possible trip back home to see the family, a vacation for me this summer is only going to happen in my dreams. Since it's only happening in my dreams, then I'm truly making it a dream vacation. So what does my dream vacation look like?

This, of course:

Image Credit: cedarpoint.com

Summer just isn't summer to me without action-packed thrill rides, and like the photo says, "17 Coasters, 1 Park!" I'd be such a happy camper!

Image Credit: blog.spoongraphics

I'm also going to Europe. I'll be hitting ALL the touristy spots, all the famous landmarks, and absorbing as many of the different cultures as I can. But I'll have to do it quickly, because I am also going to be following Thirty Seconds To Mars around on what's left of their European tour:

Image Credit: No idea, but this photo was found on the Shannon Leto's Army tumblr page.

And before you ask, since this is my dream vacation, YOU KNOW I have all access passes for myself +1 for all the shows as well as the finest in travel and accomodations.

I'd also LOVE to head to the upcoming Junk Bonanza! (sadly, no photo available. But do go check the website; I've seen some magnificent things there!) What is the Junk Bonanza, you ask?

From the official website:

"The twice-a-year Bonanza provides a gathering spot for purveyors and shoppers of vintage finds, beautiful antiques, and one-of-a-kind and artisan-repurposed pieces."

Yep; definitely my kind of place! I'm not done yet, though. I've always wanted to just toss a coin on a map of the USA, and road trip to wherever it landed.
*hold on while I run off to toss a coin on a map and see where it lands*

...




...




...

Image Credit: portlavaca.org.

Okay, I'm back. My coin landed on Port Lavaca, Texas. Never heard of it before, but it sure looks pretty! And sounds perfect. In fact, I may want to move there. It's a small town (Population in the 12,000s) on the Texas Gulf coast. Lots of local food, the sea, within two hours of both San Antonio and Houston.

And that also ties in with my last vacation destination, THE BEACH!!! So if I'm not back around September, just look for me in Port Lavaca. Or Some Beach Somewhere. Because I am going to need a nice, relaxing beach vacation to recover from my vacation.

This post is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. The prompt I chose was "8 places you'd go this summer if money wasn't an object." (Okay....I've only named four, but all of Europe more than bumps me up to 8.) Head over to Mama Kat's for more Writer's Workshop participants and inspiration!

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All the small things

It's the little that make me happiest.

Don't get me wrong, all the big things, like my amazing family, wonderful friends, sweet, adorable pets, a steady job, generally good health, and having all of my needs and many of my wants met makes me incredibly happy and I am thankful for each and every one of them. But I'm going to touch on the small things which never fail to make me happy. Nine small things, in fact. Here they are:

Vintage Dishes. While it's true that I am a sucker for all things vintage, the vintage dishes are what got me started on my quest to fill my home with funky furniture and items from days gone by. This stack is just one of many different styles and patterns I have. The first few are of Homer Laughlin's "Priscilla." I'm not sure of the discontinue date, but the pattern debuted in 1941. I'd say these ladies are looking pretty good for their age:



Rain. I adore thunderstorms, too, but there is just something innately soothing about a gently falling rain:



No, this isn't another Instagram test....this was actually taken with one of my pre-Blackberry phones (and not cropped very well) in front of my sons' school, with Pixlr's "Greg" and "Morning" filters.

Road trips. I love them whether they're with my kids on the way to visit relatives



Or on the way to hear some amazing Music. (This wasn't a show I attended this year. Sadly, I do not have any pics from the ONE show I made it out to this year.)



Since I'm running out of appropriate photos, here are the rest, in list form:

TV shows. Most people frown upon excessive tv viewing, but I happen to LOVE tv. My favorite shows? American Horror Story. The Walking Dead. Project Runway (and PR All Stars). Junk Gypsies. Revolution. Grimm. Once Upon A Time. The Vampire Dairies. Beauty and the Beast. Parenthood. The New Normal. Justified. There are probably even some I'm forgetting.

My B&N Nook. A few years ago, I got myself a second generation Amazon Kindle and loved it so much that when it came time for me to purchase a tablet/reader, I tried three times unsuccessfully with a Kindle Fire. I finally gave up and got myself a B&N Nook color. My Mom has one, and she loved it. I don't do much on mine other than read books, shop for more books/magazines and view websites, but I sure have enjoyed having it. I know many people prefer the feel and smell of an actual book. And I love all those things, too. But I love the portability of my Nook, the fact that it can hold tons of books and take up less space than the average book, I can browse the web in bed without having to mess with my laptop, and the best part of all...the price. Due to some savvy shopping, I was able to snag my Nook Color for about $100 less than it was selling for, and also about $100 less than my Kindle Fire devices that I never could get to work.

Old houses. I love Victorians, Craftsmans, Bungalows, Spanish-style, and Mid-Century homes. Really, all old homes, as long as there is some character going on there. Oh, and at least one covered porch - so I can sit under it and listen to the rain fall :)

Cateye glasses. My eyesight is starting to need a bit of help, so when I have to get glasses, I am getting myself a funky pair of vintage cateye frames and having my prescription lenses put in.

The smell of fresh-cut grass. Other than sleeping in, there is really nothing I like better than the smell of fresh cut grass while lounging outside enjoying an al fresco drink or dinner in some of my favorite vintage dishes.

What are YOUR favorite things?

This post is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. For more, go here.

All I want for Christmas......

For a really, really, really long time now, the bane of my existence has been my dining room table. I didn't pick it out, so I never really liked it very much to begin with. I like it even less now that I've had it just a little over 15 years, but I've always held onto it because it is functional. And now that most of the chairs have fallen apart? It's time for it to be gone!

Who better to help a gal out this time of year than Santa? So.....

Dear Santa,

I've had a dining table I never really liked for 15 years. At one point, I even brought my outside patio set inside and used it in place of this dining table but quickly grew tired of that, as it was only a three-piece bistro set.

Years later, many of the chairs have been broken (what can I say? It was a cheaply made set in the first place), and it's time for me to replace it. So I would really like for you to bring me a new dining table. But by new, I mean new to me.

I was a sweetheart and already took the trouble of finding some possibilities for you:

Any of these tables will do....

Source: etsy.com via Mary on Pinterest

Source: etsy.com via Retro on Pinterest

Source: ebay.co.uk via sian on Pinterest

.....but I am especially partial to this one, if you can find one with a similar design, and perhaps full-size instead of trailer-sized:

Source: Uploaded by user via Becca on Pinterest

Tables only, though.....I should warn you that I can not commit to a particular era or style, so I need my stuff to not be perfectly matched....

So how about some of these Louis Ghost chairs in Smoke, like the picture, or a light aqua/green?

Source: amazon.com via Dara on Pinterest

Or tulip chairs?

Source: vintagelooks.com via M on Pinterest

Yes, Santa, I know my style is completely weird. ("Eclectic" is what they're calling it these days in terms of design, though) But I wouldn't have it any other way!

And Santa? I have changed my mind. While I do still want all these lovely pieces of retro dining furniture, I have decided it would be easier for both of us if you just left me $100M instead. Easier for me, because with that money I can buy my own furniture. Easier for you because stacks of money will take up less room in your sleigh, will be easier on your back, and will actually fit under the tree.

Love,

Me

What do YOU hope Santa leaves under your tree?

This post is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Head over there to read more from Writer's Workshop participants, and link up to it yourself - you'll have lots of fun!

Writer's Workshop: You can have your shopping malls and designer boutiques. Take me to the thrift store!

If you've read my blog for a while, then you know how I love to hit thrift and junk stores for various discarded treasures. I try to make it a point to do this weekly, and since I generally only purchase vintage dishes and handbags in need of a good scrubbing, it's a pastime that even I can afford on my very limited budget.

In the past, I have found restoration and repurposing projects, and numerous gorgeous things for my home as well as unique gifts for special people, or can be with a little help. This week was no exception: among the racks of outdated small electrics, I got a little peek at the most perfect shade of 50s mint green. Upon further inspection, this delicious color was attached to a General Electric hand mixer which looked just like this one:


Image Source: © Gwen's Flickr Photostream and issued under Flickr Creative Commons

.....well, mine has a gray bottom instead of white. (No, this lovely photo is not mine. Why, you ask? Well, my camera died. And now my backup camera, my phone, has recently died, so I had no way to take a photo of my own.) /explanation.

I gravitated to it instantly. Even though it was covered with quite a bit of grime, I could see that it was clearly a diamond in the rough. Perfect 50s mint green, with what was probably once shiny gold details. It had metal detailing on the front and back which reminded me of the grill of a 1950s Thunderbird:

Source: etsy.com via Heidi on Pinterest

Image Source: © The 1957 Retro Store

I held it in my hands, and the weight and shape of it just felt "right." Unlike many recent model hand mixers, this one is not as lightweight. It's not heavy by any means, but it is quite sturdy and durable and had definitely stood the test of time, as I had the cashier plug it in for me just to make sure it still worked on all speeds. It did, and I just HAD to have it! (With budget and space limits, I refuse to buy anything that I will not use, so if this didn't work, I'd have had to leave it behind.)

So I bought myself a vintage hand mixer. I took it home and scrubbed the filth off. It looks loved now, instead of simply put to good use. This is such a recent purchase that I haven't even had the opportunity to use it myself just yet, but now I can't wait to and I'm even looking for other attachments to go on it.

Best part? I bought it for $3.20.

What is YOUR most recent "happy" purchase?

{This entry is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. For more from the workshop, head over here.}

Happy Trails, sweet little Buddy.

I'm now finally able to get back to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop this week, and one of the topics (the one I chose) was one particularly close to my heart, "Share a story about a stray you took in or an animal you once rescued."



Just a little over three years ago, I drove into my driveway after work, and noticed a Beagle walking from the neighbor's yard across my driveway and into my back yard. I got out of the car; he cringed and bolted.

Later, after picking my kids up from school, he was at the back of the driveway. He didn't come close, but he didn't try to run this time, and we could see the pitiful condition he was in. His ribs were somewhat visible, I could tell even at a distance that he was covered in ticks and fleas, birds would occasionally try to swoop down on him, and he had cherry eye. I had my youngest son go inside to get some lunch meat for him so he would hopefully not forage through neighborhood trashcans for food, and therefore hopefully not end up shot or poisoned. He wouldn't take the food from us, or come any closer to get it, so we set it out and backed up, and watched him devour it.


(I promise that bush wasn't in Buddy's eye, it was just the angle of the camera.)

Later that same evening, my oldest son caught him - I guess he was too weak to get away - and brought him inside. We bathed him and got rid of most of the ticks and fleas, but had to turn him back out, since we don't have a fenced-in yard, and I had an intact female indoors. It started raining that night, and when I opened the door to go somewhere, I noticed he was huddled against the house, getting rained on because he was underneath an eave that only comes out about a foot or so. So my son got him and we put him on the porch under our patio table. I even got two old blankets, one to make a "wall" around the table, and another for a dry spot underneath for him to lay on. Turns out he didn't like confined spaces, so he went back to getting wet under the eave.

We started calling this little man "Buddy", and I let the neighbors know I planned to keep him and get him checked out by a vet, I just needed to get a stake for him. Even if his "owner" had come for him, I had no intention of turning him over. He acted like he'd been abused, or at the very least, had never had any human contact, he was half-starved, and obviously in need of tlc. I panicked when I didn't see him for a few days, and I was so worried he'd been picked up by animal control, or hit by a car, or hurt by another human for getting into their yard/trash/too close to their kids.

But then he showed back up, and in the meantime I had procured a harness, stake for the yard, food and water bowls, a Dogloo I bought from a neighbor, and I made sure he couldn't get wound up on anything in the yard or near the house. He'd go into the Dogloo, but he preferred a little hole he'd dug himself underneath our back porch. Every day when we'd come home and check on him and feed him, he'd come out from under the porch with his tail wagging! We could pet him now! But although he was beginning to trust us, you couldn't make any sudden movements or he'd drop to the ground. It was heartbreaking to see.

I took Buddy to be checked out by our vet. We got all his vaccinations up to date, checked for heartworms (negative) and started on prevention. The vet estimated him to be approximately 11 or 12 years old, most likely never a pet, but a hunting dog who'd been separated from his pack. And the vet said he had the worst case of canine dental disease he'd ever seen. I was quoted a price of around $500 for the vet to perform surgery to remove all the tartar growth and restructure Buddy's mouth, and we decided that we would take care of the cherry eye at that time, too, so Buddy would not have to be put through two different surgeries. Of course, this animal hospital didn't offer a payment plan and I didn't have that kind of money laying around, so I planned to save for the surgery.

We had a great summer. Buddy played with us, and our other dogs (we already had Mini, and had committed to April, who was still being weaned when Buddy first got here)


Buddy and April playing in a light snow in the winter of 2009

Once, Buddy's tie line got broken by a lawn mower. My son tied it back together hopefully to hold it till I could bring another cable home the next day, but that didn't work. Buddy was gone the next morning, without a doubt off into the woods with half a tie line attached to his harness. My son and I were in a panic as we combed the woods for that dog! I am so thankful my son was with me, because I can't hear very well, and I wouldn't have heard Buddy from as far off as he did, or known where the sound was coming from. Pretty Boy (ANOTHER stray Beagle, but much younger, and most likely from the same hunting pack, had come to our home about a week after Buddy. But he was too spry and healthy for us to pet, let alone catch, so we just fed him and hoped for the best as far as him not getting hurt/picked up) walked the woods with us, and led us to a point where my son could hear Buddy barking when we called him. Sure enough, Buddy had gotten his cable wrapped around a tree and couldn't get free. We were SO happy to have him back home with us!

Other than that, the summer wasn't very eventful. Buddy gained weight and his cherry eye seemed to go down a LOT on its own. I bought him a squeaky rabbit toy, then we watched from the kitchen window as he picked it up, walked around with it, dropped it, moved it, etc., finally just digging a hole and burying it! As often happened, other expenses came up, and I was not able to ever save the money necessary for Buddy's surgery. I had hoped to hold out through the winter and have it done at tax return time, when I usually got a bit of a refund back.

Sadly, about a month before I could have done that, I noticed Buddy had bled in the yard, and on his hay/bedding. I called the vet thinking he'd eaten something or hurt himself, even though he didn't seem to be in much pain. They told me to just bring him in once I got my kids home and settled in. I gave him a bath and put him in the utility room to dry off while I changed my own clothes. I nearly fainted when I opened the door after a few minutes and saw how much he had bled in such a short amount of time! I scooped him up and rushed him to the vet immediately.

This time, the sweet, older man vet wasn't there, but a young woman. I explained to her Buddy's story (because I did not want her thinking I let a pet of mine get in such bad shape), and .... well, I still felt like she looked down on me. She told me that the dental decay had gotten so bad it pretty much dissolved his jawbone and had gotten very infected, and we had to make some kind of decision regarding surgery immediately. She said he also had a heart murmur and ear infection (two things he did not have at his initial visit).

Since she was willing to let me pay for half of his surgery then and half when I got my paycheck the following Friday, I considered that. I also asked about euthanization. She said she didn't want to seem callous regarding Buddy, but he was old, not in the best of health, and it was certainly an option. He could not be strong enough for surgery. He could be strong enough for surgery, but die on the operating table. He could pull through, and die of complications during recovery. He could pull through and recover just fine, then die a natural death of old age in another six months.

I opted for euthanization. I picked my sons up from school and had to tell them about Buddy. We went back to the vet's office, this time to have Buddy put to sleep. We stayed in the room with him, talking to him and petting him, until he passed a few minutes later. Then we had him prepared for burial, and brought him home and buried him under a shade tree in our front yard.

We may have had him for less than a year, but he stole our hearts and we miss him every day.



I hate that we had to lose him like that, but I really didn't feel like he would make it given all that was wrong. And I am glad that he got to live out the last few months of his life with a regular food, shelter, and a family who loved him. I like to think of him somewhere happy, where he can follow all the trails he can possibly find :)

And although this story is about Buddy, I just can't leave it on a sad note. We have since adopted Oakley, who, while not a stray, was headed for the pound if a home couldn't be found for her. She has also stolen our hearts, and is a wonderful companion and very much a part of our family!

I would like to encourage anyone considering a pet for their family to please save an animal from the shelter (or do like we did, and let a stray become a member of your family!). To see more Writer's Workshop participants, head over to Mama's Losin' It.

LAWD, I'm glad that part of my life is over!

One of the selections for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop this week was to share a story from fourth grade, so my story is about spending the year at the mercy of an unlikely bully.

Warning: some profanity ahead.

Many, many, many years ago, I read in a magazine where Woody Allen, I believe, said in an interview that sometimes he'll have nightmares about being back in school, then he'll wake up clutching the mattress and thanking God he no longer has to go. I searched and searched online for this and it was nowhere to be found, so make of that what you will. I could have had the wording wrong, or the public figure wrong, or maybe I just dreamed it myself. Regardless, I can certainly relate. I, too, sometimes have nightmares about being back in school, and wake up truly thankful that *I* no longer have to go.

Fourth grade was, hands down, one of the worst times of my life. My Dad and his girlfriend, who I really liked, had broken up. My best friend and I were split up in school after previous years of having class together. And this was the year I had my first experience with a really horrible teacher.

The year hadn't actually started out too bad. I still got to see my best friend at recess and in our second block of classes. And I was really excited because I got assigned to the new teacher, Mrs. S. She was so pretty, and praised me so much when I was the only kid in class who spelled encyclopedia (a bonus word) correctly on our first spelling test! Unfortunately, that was the only good thing I remember about my time in her classroom aside from her reading The Pilgrim's Progress to us later in the year.

The whole drama started off like this: she was our Spelling, Reading, and English teacher. We sat at circular tables in her class instead of at desks, and one Friday right before a spelling test, Lindsay, the girl to my left, looked underneath the table where she'd covered a teensy slip of paper with her foot. Of course, this got my attention and I followed her gaze to it as well. This was later determined to be a cheat sheet, though I'm not sure if she needed to cheat, or if she just wanted to see if she could get away with it. But Mrs. S started walking around, and Lindsay either tried to hide the paper better or decided against her cheat sheet altogether. She picked the paper up, scrambled to put it away, and had to leave it alone when Mrs. S approached our table. As it turned out, Lindsay's paper had floated down from wherever she'd stuck it, and landed close to my feet. Mrs. S picked it up, saw what it was, and rounded on me immediately. I was given a zero on the test and sent to the office when I didn't admit the paper was mine and didn't give her the explanation she wanted. I was later paddled for this incident.

Another week, I was getting a book out of my cubby and accidentally dropped it on Lindsay's head. It was utterly and completely unintentional, and Lindsay knew this and was fine, but.....Mrs. S had seen it and insisted I had hit Lindsay on purpose. Even Lindsay told her that I hadn't, but I was still sent to the office and paddled for it all the same.

Then there was a time when I'd gotten to my seat late for whatever reason, and just yanked a piece of paper out of my notebook for the spelling test without looking at it. I really should have, since it was the sheet I'd written my spelling words on for practice the night before. I opened my notebook to put it back, but Mrs. S snatched it up off the table before I could, accused me of trying to cheat, and once again I got a zero on a spelling test - a test in a subject I would NEVER have to cheat on - and was sent to the office and paddled.

The drama didn't stop there, either. There were many small incidents where she was just a bitch for any and every and no reason whatsoever, like the time I forgot a notebook in her classroom. I was out of the classroom, and her next class was already in it and some of them were seated and getting ready. The door was shut, so I just opened it to slip in as quickly as possible. There were kids surrounding her desk, so I grabbed my notebook and headed back out. Mrs. S had gotten up by then, though, and grabbed the notebook from me at the door. I figured I was about to get sent to the office and paddled again, but this time she only told me that I needed to learn some manners and demanded that I go back outside, shut the door behind me, then knock and request permission to come in. Which I did. Once inside, I asked if I could have my notebook. She gave it to me, then told me to apologize to her class for interrupting. I hung my head in shame and apologized at a barely audible level, so then she made me do it louder while making eye contact with the boys and girls who were, by now, whispering and laughing.

I don't remember the time frame of all of these incidents, just that they must have all happened on Fridays and they must have all happened during the first month or two of school. Because every Friday from there on out, I started getting violently ill before school, therefore not being able to go. Or if I did make it to school, I'd get sick there and my Mom would have to come get me. This went on for literally months on end. I went to my local doctor, who eventually suggested a specialist when he could never find any medical reason for me to be sick. I went to a specialist in Memphis who conducted numerous tests, and still came away without a diagnosis.

By now, you're probably wondering what my parents had to say about all of this. Well, they were baffled, because they had no idea that I spent every Friday being either publicly humiliated and/or paddled. I never told them, because I was afraid I'd get in trouble at home, too. They didn't figure out what was going on with me until almost the very end of the school year. It was not on a Friday this time, but a Tuesday when Mrs. S made the dire mistake of finally getting my mother involved.

I'd gotten into poison ivy or something over the weekend, so to keep me from clawing my skin off at school on Monday, my Mom had slathered me with calamine lotion and dressed me in a sleeveless shirt and a cardigan-type sweater. It was a bit cool in the morning, but as the day wore on, it became quite hot. We didn't have ACs in the schools back then, and when I started getting hot and itchy, I took the sweater off. Mrs. S demanded that I put it back on because my tank top was "too revealing." For what it's worth, I was nine years old, completely flat-chested, and had no body hair, little boys were still yucky according to little girls, and little girls still had cooties according to little boys.

I didn't question Mrs. S, though, I just put the sweater back on. The temperature continued to climb. I had eaten lunch in a hot, stuffy lunchroom, played outside in the hot sun at recess, and finally rode a hot bus to the babysitter's after school - all in a long-sleeved, warm sweater. I had gotten sweaty. I had gotten itchy. But I didn't dare take the sweater off because I was ashamed of being dressed in something inappropriate. Instead, I had just absentmindedly scratched. And scratched. And scratched. I had opened and created more oozy sores throughout the course of the day which then stuck to my sweater. I cried peeling the sweater off, and I'd made such a mess of my arms! The sitter was horrified, and asked why on earth I hadn't taken my sweater off. I had to tell her what Mrs. S had said about my shirt, and I guess she's the one who broke it to my Mom.

My mother was furious. So furious, in fact, that she took the next day off work to come with me to school and hav a "talk" with the principal. The principal called Mrs. S in at some point, and my mother WENT OFF. Over and over again, and that was just over the sweater incident. When Mrs. S tried to defend herself by telling my Mom I cheated on tests, was rude, and a troublemaker, I thought Mom was going to hit her. She did tell her that she'd better never embarrass me again, or tell me I wasn't dressed right again, and she'd damned sure better never paddle me again, or she'd live to regret it. I'd never seen my Mom so angry, and I'd never seen Mrs. S so frightened and humbled. And we finally figured out why I was sick every Friday.

That year has shaped me in ways you cannot imagine. I'd dealt with bully-ish kids before, and that was hard enough. But it's not always the kids who are bullies. In my experience, there was a world of difference between mean kids and a mean adult.

All these things that I've done

....and now I'm supposed to pick just one and talk about it?

Okay, well...here goes: two weeks ago, one of the prompts for Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop was to "list 22 things you've never done," which I turned into a post about bands, artists, and tours I've never seen. The next week's prompt was to "list 22 things you HAVE done," in which I listed 22 bands and artists I HAVE been able to see live.One of the prompts for this week?

"Did you create a list of 22 things you've done in your life for last week's Writer's Workshop? This week, choose one item from your list and elaborate! We want the story."

I'm going with that one, since I've already held with the other two in previous posts. And, as you might have guessed, I'm going to pick just one artist and give you the goods on my experience at their show. This is incredibly hard on me, as most shows I've attended have been special in their own way. My favorite shows ever were in recent years and at smaller venues (except for 1985's Motley Crue shos in Memphis, which you can read about here if you choose to do so). There was the Hank III show in Huntsville in '09, which I wrote about here, and the 30 Seconds to Mars show in Atlanta from earlier this year, which I gushed about over at The Music Mamas.

And then there was the Type O Negative show in Atlanta back in 2007, which is probably my favorite of all shows, ever. Not only because they're one of my favorite bands, but because of Peter Steele's untimely passing, they sadly are no more.

I made a post about this at one of my old blogs, but it's waaaay too long to publish here. (I'll be sure to come back and link to it when I get it transferred, though!) So for post length's sake, here is the gist of it:

My friend and I got to hang out inside the venue all day (instead of having to wait in the rain), met some of the bands and crew (some of whom I still talk to!), got shout-outs from the sound board, and watched different sound checks before the shows started. We got our favorite spot along the security barricade, and of course it was right in front of Peter, who at the time was really looking and sounding good again. I enjoyed all the bands' performances, but Type O's was the best I've seen out of all the times I've seen them. And Peter seemed to really enjoy dousing the front of my shirt with water bottles throughout the night. A friend insisted that he just wanted to see me in a wet t-shirt, so I'm gonna run with that idea

So....tell me all about your favorite concert experience in the comments! I love discussing music and concerts.

For more of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, head on over here to read or link up!

More bands, artists, and tours

This week as part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, one of the prompts was "Last week we wrote about what we have never done…this week write a list of 22 things you HAVE done."

So, in keeping with my last week's theme, where instead I posted a list of 22 bands, artists, or tours I have never seen, this week I will post 22 bands or artists that I HAVE seen:

1. 30 Seconds To Mars
2. Hank III
3. 100 Monkeys
4. Weezer
5. Blink 182
6. My Chemical Romance
7. Type O Negative
8. Motley Crue
9. North Mississippi Allstars
10. Willie Nelson
11. Ozzy Osbourne
12. Metallica (with Cliff)
13. Alice Cooper
14. Kiss
15. Bush
16. Satyricon
17. Ratt
18. Bon Jovi
19. Danzig
20. Cradle of Filth
21. Dimmu Borgir
22. Sevendust

This was actually a LOT easier than last week's prompt.  I consider myself very lucky that there really aren't very many bands that I want to see that I haven't, and that  I'll never be able to.

Head over to Mama Kat's for more Writer's Workshop.  And while you're there?  Link up your own!

Bands, artists, and tours....

I'm now two days late with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, but I am slapping a post up anyway. Just to keep me in the routine, and hopefully, some other Saturday stragglers such as myself will play along. Of course, tomorrow will be my catch-up day, so that's when I'll be out and about, visiting everyone.

One of the themes for this week's workshop was to "...list 22 things you've never done." That could cover a LOT of ground for me, so I'm just going to narrow it down, and list 22 bands and/or artists/tours/etc that I *REALLY* wish I'd been able to see, but will not be able to due to death, breakup, or not the lineup I prefer.

OR bands I just really want to see, but haven't yet.

None of these are in any particular order, except for the first:

1. The Doors. Hands-down, THE band I wish I'd been able to see. Jim Morrison was truly unlike any other. I'd still be in love with him even if he were alive today, even though he's as old as my Dad! Alas, it was not meant to be, as Jim Morrison died before I was even one year old.
2. Jimi Hendrix
3. Johnny Cash
4. Nine Inch Nails
5. Kiss, during the 70s, BEFORE the makeup came off
6. Led Zeppelin
7. Pink Floyd
8. Woodstock, '69. OR '94.
9. Lollapalooza in its inaugural year.
10. Guns N Roses, the Appetite or Use Your Illusion years.
11. Jan and Dean
12. Waylon Jennings
13. The RAMONES!
14. Ozzy with Randy Rhoads
15. Van Halen before splitting with David Lee Roth
16. Nirvana
17. ELVIS PRESLEY. 'Nuff said.

And now, for bands that I've never been able to see, but really want to...and maybe will be able to one of these days:

1. Avenged Sevenfold
2. Hollywood Undead
3. Slipknot
4. Iron Maiden
5. Social Distortion - BUT.....I am going to see them in November.  Yay for that!

Head over to Mama Kat's (link above) to link up and go blog-hopping!

Image source: Wikipedia

I'm thinking I might attempt to cook again.

So my family might want to take cover.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not half bad with a casserole dish or skillet when it comes to making something partially homemade, but I really want to be one of those amazing moms who does everything from scratch, with fresh ingredients bought locally and all that jazz. Yeah, that's not going to happen, since my schedule and budget really don't allow for it and I really need to be a much, much better cook if I am going to splurge on fresh ingredients and spend a lot more time and effort on our meals.

Still doesn't make me want to give up on it altogether, either, though.

Anyway, one of the writing prompts from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop this week was "A recipe that went all kinds of wrong."

Um. Well, that could describe many of the things I've attempted to make over the years, as I'm very hit-or-miss in the kitchen. And there have been quite a few misses along the way!

There is EVERY time I try to fry catfish my stepdad and boys have caught, only to end up with soggy, greasy, falling-apart messes that not even the dogs will touch.

There was the time I was attempting to make dinner from scratch for company, and accidentally added eggs to my biscuit mix. We ended up with what looked (and almost tasted) like silver dollar pancakes.

And then there was the time as a newlywed when I wanted to surprise my then-hubby with a homemade cake after he came home from work one evening. I baked the cake completely from scratch, and it turned out perfect. I also attempted to make my Grandmother's homemade caramel cake frosting to go with it. It's a recipe from the 40s which called for a candy thermometer I didn't have, and said something about a "soft ball stage" which I just had to guess at! As you can imagine, this did not end well. I ended up with hard candy. Instead of caramel cake, we had unfrosted cake and peanut-less peanut brittle.

Sure, it was tasty. But it still went all kinds of wrong!

For more writer's workshop for this week, head over to Mama's Losin' It.

Life gets hard and then it gets good

....like I always knew it would.

I figured my brand new blog was as good a place as any to start participating again in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

One of the prompts this week was "Tell us about your song."

I'm not really sure in which context this should be, but since I love music, I just HAD to pick this one. And? I don't really have a song that I feel is necessarily "about" me, or that I could have written myself. So many songs speak to me for so many different reasons. And some songs don't speak for me as a whole, but bits and pieces of them stand out.

For instance, I'm currently all about the line

"Life gets hard and then it gets good
Like I always knew it would"

from Social Distortion's "California (Hustle and Flow). I love this song for the guitars, and overall sound. I love to get up and move around to it! But I mostly like it because there is one specific part that I can totally relate to - a huge part of my life has been very hard for the past few years, but it's getting good. Through it all, I have always known that I was destined for something better, and that things would change, and for the better. Every time I hear this, it's like just a small little bit of reaffirmation.  I am so ready for life to get good!

For more of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop, head over here.