Brunswick Stew and Honey Cornbread

Some of you may or may not know that I'm quite the domestic woman. I'm mostly a cooker, a little bit of a baker, but a lot of eater. I decided to post my recipe for Brunswick Stew, with pictures, so that those of you who are interested can take it and make it your own. I believe that food is very personal; the recipe I'm about to share is different from the one I originally found, but I have enough experience with food to be able to tweak it to my liking. Don't be afraid to do the same for yourself.

 I've never blogged food before, but I think it would be best to divide this recipe into two parts, accompanied by pictures for you to see.

Part I: Meat & Veggies

1 Rotisserie Chicken -- I use one prepared from a Wal-Mart or Kroger deli. Saves time and is already flavorful.

1 lb. Ground Round -- This has the most flavor of any ground beef I have used.
1 small Pork Roast -- I use the Hormel pre-cooked roast; 4 minutes in the microwave and it's ready to shred. It tastes just as good as any homemade pork roast, too.

1 sweet yellow onion

1. Dice the onion and cook it with the ground beef. You want the onion to caramelize so you get the sweet goody bits.
2. While the beef and onion are cooking up, shred the parts of the chicken you want to use (I normally stick with the breast meat) and shred the pork roast. 
3. After the beef and onion are done, toss the shredded chicken and pork in the skillet and give it a good stir to get heated through. The mixture should look something like this:

Last time I made this, I used a Dutch Oven. This time, I couldn't be bothered to constantly get up and stir it, so I used my trusty Crock Pot.

4. Toss the meat mixture into what ever pot you want to use, whether it be a stew pot, a crock pot, or a Dutch Oven.

Next, you need:

4 cups water or stock, or a mixture of both..what ever you feel like doing. I used a mix this time.
1-28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes
1-28 oz. can of diced tomatoes, with the juice
2-14 oz. cans of creamed corn

The can of chicken stock is just under 2 cups, so what ever you choose to do, make sure you put 4 cups of it. I used water to make up for the rest. The original recipe calls for 6 cups, but I cut it back for two reasons: you already have extra liquid when you include the juice from the tomatoes, and I like thick, stewy soups more than runny soups.

5.  Throw all the canned goods in the pot and give it a good stir with the meat.
Here's what it looks like without spices added:

Part II: Spices
3/4 cup ketchup
1 tablespoon yellow mustard
1/4 cup worcestershire sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon pepper
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 cup barbecue spice (it's in the picture with the canned goods--sorry!)
dash of hot sauce

6.  Add everything to the mix.

7. Stir it up and let it simmer!

In a crock pot, it needs to simmer for several hours, and you only have to check on it periodically. One big difference is that if you use the lid, the condensation produced will add more water to your stew. After the stew was hot all the way through, I took the lid off to allow some of the moisture to evaporate.  In a Dutch Oven or a stock pot, the stew cooks up quicker (done in 1 hour) and thickens a little more. It's all about personal preference and time.

The perfect side for this stew is Honey Cornbread. I could make this from scratch if I really wanted to, but why would I when there's a mix that's just as good? You just need an egg, 2/3 cup milk and 1/3 cup vegetable oil. Bake it until it's a beautiful light golden brown and voila! I even top mine off with Country Crock Honey Spread.

Give it a whirl and make it your own. Enjoy your Brunswick Stew and Honey Cornbread!

Goodbye

Today is the funeral of one of my oldest friends. I've wanted to write since I received news of his passing,  but was at too much a loss of words. Suddenly, this morning, a flood of thoughts and emotions raced through my mind, and I am finally able to fulfill my compulsion.
Cole and I were in the same circle of friends back in middle school. We were a group of kids who enjoyed spending time together and laughing our way through life. Every time I think about any of us being together, I just remember us laughing, and then it occurred to me that the majority of the time, we were laughing at something Cole said or did. He had the most genius sense of humor and could make anyone laugh at any given time. We had our goofy private jokes, as most middle-schoolers do, but we always had a good time. No matter how long it had been since you had seen him, you could always pick up right where you left off with Cole. Time and distance were never barriers.
I feel an enormous amount of guilt and regret that I didn't do a better job of keeping in touch with not only Cole, but the remainder of everyone I knew. I realized this morning that I am a walking contradiction; I always tell everyone that old friends are the best friends, but I did a shitty job of keeping my old friends in my life. Sure, everyone grows up and starts a life of their own, whether it works out or not, but it was wrong of me to isolate myself from the people who are near and dear to me.
I saw Cole recently at a coffee shop; I was there with another friend and saw him across the room. I don't know why, but I didn't get up to say hello. He was 15 feet away from me, and I didn't even get up to walk over and say hello to someone I've known for 18 years. I'm so incredibly angry with myself for that. 
From Cole's passing, I have done some soul-searching and I have learned a few things. It is so important to seize every opportunity that arises each day. If you let opportunity by opportunity slip by, life will disappear before you know it.  

Cole, my heart aches because you're gone. I have so many more feelings than I do the words to express them, but I hope you left this world knowing what an impact you had on people, including me. You are loved by many and will be missed by us all. You'll always be my Tonya Harding. Rest in peace, Cole.

Strategic Trick-or-Treating

Okay, so sue me for not writing for a few months. I've been busy, and am working on a new post to give some updates. In the mean time, I found this little ditty in my Book of Awesome, and wanted to pass it along. I'm going to paraphrase for the sake of brevity, but please know that the credit for this goes to the author of the book, Neil Pasricha.

Trick-or-treating isn't a game; it's a life lesson in goal setting, planning and tactical execution. Kids who master trick-or-treating go on to become successful world leaders. The point is that chocolate is delicious and you should fill your pillowcase with as MUCH as possible. You just have to master the Four Rules of Strategic Trick-or-Treating.

1. Mo' money, mo' problems. People have you believe that the rich enjoy lavishing children with giant cakes and full cases of root beer, but that is a LIE. Their massive front yards will just slow you down; you'll be navigating through wrought-iron fences, duck-shaped hedges and koi ponds instead of ringing doorbells. You should aim for the new neighborhood with little kids and densely-packed homes.

2. Dress for success. Trick-or-treating is a race against the clock, so set yourself up for success by wearing running shoes and avoiding masks that limit your visibility.

3. Partner up. Resist the temptation to travel in a posse...the amoeba of fluorescent tape and face paint will cause problems. First, the group will travel at the speed of the slowest member. Second, when candy-hander-outers spot groups, they go into instant rationing mode. That means a smaller handful. That's not good.

4. Timing is everything. 4-6 p.m.: this is the time to hit houses at the peak of their inventory levels. 6-7 p.m.: Streets are their busiest; don't get caught up in other people's amoebas. Go grab some sustenance and rev up. 7-9 p.m.: Pick up the scraps. Some houses will be left with too much candy and will hand it out by the handfuls instead of fingerfuls. Others will feel guilty for running out, and will start handing out things from their kitchen (i.e. pudding cups or boxes of Jell-O.) Take advantage and stock up.

There's your trick-or-treating guide. May the candy force be with you.

Celebrate Your Mutt

Today is Mutt's Day. Today is the day to celebrate your half- and mixed-breed dogs. The #1 mutt in my life is my darling Stuart, a (mostly) Miniature Pinscher....his DNA test (yes, you read that right) says he's 25% Boston Terrier. Regardless of what biology says, he is definitely a unique creature all his own. His personality is unparalleled -- defininitely unlike any dog I've ever seen. He is a mixture of super smart and super stupid, and he is completely dysfunctional, but ultimately, he has been right by my side since the day I brought him home. He's definitely a momma's boy.

Stuart was a rescue; he was picked up in a field and was nearly crushed by a tractor mower. The instant I saw his face, I knew I couldn't say no to him. He lost his leg after a series of fractures and failed healings -- moments I will never, ever forget. He has endured multiple surgeries in his young life, along with having to tolerate two other pups that annoyed him, and eventually relocating with me....without the other companions. He's been dressed up as a cowboy, Santa Claus, a surfer dude, Spiderman, a skunk......poor thing has been forced to live through the torture of an owner who thinks it's funny to make her dog look as silly as possible and then laugh at his expense.

He's cracked his head more times than I can even count, and that has prompted a long-running joke of getting him a helmet for Christmas. I might actually fulfill that this year.

Stuart lives a good life: I feed him, walk him outside to shit, and he gets to sleep in between my legs...it's truly any guy's dream, right? He loves squeaky toys, but tires of them rather quickly...one minute he's showing it who's boss, then the next minute, he's pushing it out of his way so he can plop down on the nearest nest of blankets or stack of pillows.

The funniest thing about Stuart is that he is racist. I swear to God. He hates people who aren't white. Now before you say anything about him being taught that behavior, stop yourself. I never taught him to hate anything or anybody. He was that way from the get-go.

As I type this, he's lying here next to me, curled up in his blanket burrito wondering when he's going to get his last potty trip of the night so we can go to bed. Stuart is definitely the closest thing to a kid I have, and I love him dearly. Happy Mutt's Day, Stuart.

The Book of Awesome

I made a bittersweet visit Borders during its Going Out of Business sale....bitter because it was hotter than Hades, but sweet because I found some good bargains (for which I am always on the lookout!) One of my treasures was Neil Pasricha's The Book of Awesome. I want to poke through the book and share some of the most awesome things.

1. The other side of the pillow. I don't even have to explain this one.

2. The smell of crayons. The people who love this are probably the same people who love the smell of gasoline.

3. Licking the batter off the beaters of a cake mixer. The risk of salmonella from the raw eggs seems so minute in comparison to the cake-batteriness of the cake batter.

4. Picking up the "q" and "u" at the same time in Scrabble. Of course, only Scrabble afficionados can fully appreciate the value of this.

5. The smell of freshly cut grass. Kudos to Yankee Candle for creating a way for us to indulge in this bit of awesome all year round.

6. Laughing so hard you make no sound at all. Silent laughter is definitely the best thing ever.

7. Successfully moving all your clothes from the washer to the dryer without dropping anything. Yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about...

8. Finding money in your old coat pocket...this is way better than money you find in the washer.

9. Eating the extra fries at the bottom of the bag. Oh yeah.

10. Seeing a cop on the side of the road and realizing you're going the speed limit anyway. Epic win.

So there's a bit of awesomeness for the day. There's plenty more where that came from.

Truths for Grown-Ups

I didn't realize it had been nearly 2 weeks since my last post. The days are going by so quickly. Anyway, I found this while I was randomly looking through my computer and thought it would be good to share. It's called "Truths for Mature Humans," but I know lots of grown-ups who can't really be considered mature, so I changed the title. Anyway, there are 32 items here that are quite relevant and true. Enjoy!

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.

2. Nothing sucks more than at that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is a great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the HELL are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary?

7. Mapquest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blu-ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection.....again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -- ever.

15. I hate it when I just miss a call by the last ring, but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?

16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay..

20. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

21. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.

22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I'm trying to finish a text.

24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

25. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?

29. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrians I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.

31. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

32. Even under idea conditions, people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey; but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time every time!

Mad Love

"Unless it is mad, passionate, extraordinary love, it is a waste of time. There are too many mediocre things in life: Love should not be one of them."

I am in love. This is the first and last time I will ever be in love. I thought I was in love before, but it turns out that there is no possible way I could have been. Not after meeting Phil. He is undeniably the most perfect man that I have ever had the joy of knowing.

Phil is amazing because he takes me as I am. I'm forgetful; he says it's cute. I'm loud; he gets entertained. I'm feisty; he loves it. I'm opinionated; he is interested in what I have to say. For some reason, he can never get enough of me, and I have never had that before. I am never an inconvenience to him, and he always says I am his #1 priority. He takes care of me and makes sure that my needs and wants are met every second of every day.

There are so many things I love about Phil. He is kind, caring, generous, loving, tender, funny, smart, decisive, manly, sensitive, stubborn, rebellious, independent, relaxed, easygoing, genuine, honest and passionate. There is so much more about him, but there are never enough words to describe him. He is without a doubt the most perfect man for me. He understands me and appreciates me, and I couldn't ask for anyone better than him.

The distance between us is a challenge, but it doesn't stop us from having the best relationship we can have. Technology is a blessing and a curse, but it enables us to connect each night, if only for just a little while. If anything, we see a little bit of how the other lives, and we get a glimpse of what's in store when the day comes for us to be our own family. We are both coming from bad relationships, and have talked about our shared newfound passion for life, and how we just want to live and enjoy it. However, I just have to say that if he asked me to marry him today, I would say yes without a second thought. He makes me want to be a better person and live a better life, and I can't imagine another second without him. He is my best friend, my partner in crime, my biggest fan and my most loyal supporter. I love him with every fiber of my being and am the luckiest woman in the world to have him.

Our love is definitely mad, passionate and extraordinary. Good things definitely come to those of us who wait. I've certainly waited long enough and I have reaped the greatest reward. Phil Towers, you are my one and only. I love you with every beat of my heart, every breath of my lungs, every blink of my eyes and every step of my feet. You are my purpose. I am happier than I have ever been and ever will be, and I can't wait to spend forever with you.

Field Day

My fifth grade year was one of the most influential years of my life. I had my first male elementary school teacher. The rumor was that he was gay. Of course I bought into it, but I can't sit here and tell you that I fully understood what gay was -- what 11-year-old can? I learned that drugs were bad, thanks to the DARE program. I started learning Spanish from Senora Calvert. I learned that Student Council elections were nothing more than a popularity contest. But of all the things I learned, the biggest lesson was how evil people could be. The human condition has always fascinated me to an extent. At one point, I considered studying psychology, but then decided I didn't want to get bogged down listening to other people bitch and moan about how their mother screwed up their lives on a daily basis. So, I turned to English instead. That way, if I become overwhelmed by literary figures bitching and moaning, all I have to do is close the book.

There was a girl in class named Amanda. She was not popular, and I admit there was a little weirdness about her (especially after I saw her eat ketchup on pizza), but nonetheless, she was a nice girl who never set out to hurt anyone. She was often the butt of the jokes of the cool kids, the victim of relentless teasing and merciless bullying. But there is one day that I will never forget, as long as I live. I still get choked up thinking about it. It has stuck with me for 20 years, and it will stick with me forever.

One day in class, our teacher left the room. I do not remember the circumstances surrounding his absence, but it doesn't matter -- not compared to what happened to Amanda. Tony and April inflicted the most pain upon her. To be honest, some of the events of that day are a blur now. It started with someone who had some disappearing ink....you know, one of those gag gifts where you squirt the ink onto someone, give them a second to freak out from the irreparable stain, then give them another second to discover that it disappears. All good fun, right? Someone thought it would be funny to start squirting people with this ink; namely Amanda. Now, not only was this going to affect her, but it was going to affect the three of us who sat with her at the table: me, Ashley and Alecia.

They started nit-picking on her: tugging her hair, poking on her shoulder opposite the side they were standing, tapping her hand while she wrote so that it would mark up her paper...little nuisances like that. Well, she reacted just the way they expected her to. She started getting upset and asked them repeatedly to quit, obviously to no avail. They proceeded to become more abrasive in their attacks. Tony came up behind her, pulled her hair and then hocked a loogy in it. Amanda's face was flushed and soaking wet with tears. She could hardly catch a breath she was so traumatized. Personally, I thought the worst was over, and that someone would step in and save her soon. Boy, did I underestimate my classmates. That is exactly the moment that Tony did something I never thought anyone would have the audacity to do. He came around her and blew a spinning sidekick right into her left side. Full force. It knocked the wind out of her and knocked her straight out of her desk. The look of horror on her face is what I see every time I think about this day. Shock, terror, pain, anguish, sadness...all in that one look. I think we caught eyes for a millisecond. That is the first time I realized I could feel other people's pain. I felt what she felt. I was in tears for her. I was humiliated with her.

Finally, somehow, our teacher made his way back. It was obvious that a coup had just occurred, so we were asked what the hell was going on. The room was silent for a moment. The culprits weren't about to tell on themselves, and the rest of us were afraid to tell on them, fearing that we might be victims of retaliation. My friend Ashley and I looked at one another and decided that we were going to try and make it right. We spoke up for Amanda. We told. It wasn't long before the principal came into our classroom and demanded that we call out the guilty parties. We were empowered enough that we did not fear any repercussions. We told our principal who did what while she listened intently. I was glad to see she wanted to get to the bottom of this incident, but was shocked with her reply. I wish I could remember what she said verbatim, but I only remember the consequence itself. No Field Day. Okay, I'll say that again. No Field Day. Their only consequence was that their privilege of participating in the school's all-day recess be reneged? No parent conferences? No write-up slips? No detention? No writing assignment? NO APOLOGY?? Just no Field Day...

I suppose that did scare them a little since they were among the most athletic students in school, but it hardly seems like justice was served for poor Amanda, especially since the reneged privilege was de-reneged. Yeah, the principal took back her take back and allowed the kids to participate in Field Day fater all. I don't know if those students ever thought about what they did, or if it ever lay on their conscience. I don't know if they feel remorse or if they wish they could apologize to her. I don't even know if they remember that day. When I taught and saw kids being bullied, the memory of that day re-enters my mind. I will probably never understand what went through the heads of those kids; honestly, I have given up trying. Some things just happen -- good things to bad people and bad things to good people -- and that's just the way it is.

Mom's Happy Day

I was almost born on the freeway. That's what my parents told me, anyway. I began kicking myself out of my placental cocoon, ready to face the world head on. Well, arm on...I was sideways. Finally, at 4:15 p.m. on October 22, 1981, Jennifer Robin Pryor became a new population statistic. I have a picture of my mom holding me, her firstborn. I can only imagine what was going through her head at that very moment. She's wearing a big, open-mouthed grin. She is happy. I'm sure there are probably women who think, "What the fuck have I done?" or "God, I hope I don't screw up this kid like my mom screwed me up." My mom never thought that -- about any of her three children. She knew we deserved the clean slate to which we were entitled. I am grateful to her for that. We were allowed to come into the world open-minded. She showed us the difference between right and wrong, which is the only foundation you really need in life.

If there's one thing I can say about my mom, it's that she has always supported me, unconditionally. She has not always agreed with me, that's for sure, but she has certainly always given me an open ear and an open heart and a kind word to help ease the pain. No matter the antics I and my siblings have pulled, she has always kept her door open to us and given us shelter and nurtured us. She has shared in our laughter and our tears, our joys and our pains, our bad haircuts, puberty, bad relationships, marriage, divorce....you name it. Now I live back at home with my mother while I go through my divorce, and it's like Sophia and Dorothy from The Golden Girls. We have our moments of banter and unnerving one another; but for the most part it's not so bad.

My mom isn't the sappy, pearlized-roses-on-the-front-of-the-card type; she's the get-to-the-point type..and the point had better be worth her listening. So, in the true spirit of my own mother, here are some Yo Momma jokes.

Yo momma so dumb she thinks a quarterback is a refund.

Yo momma so dumb she put lipstick on her head to make up her mind.

Yo momma so ugly when she tried to take a bath, the water jumped out.

Yo momma so fat, her nickname is DAY-UM.

Yo momma so old, her birth certificate says expired on it.

Happy Mother's Day, y'all.

May Days

May the 4th be with you. Yes, most of us know it's Star Wars Day. When I taught, I would tell my students, "Metaphors be with you." I still chuckle when I hear that.

We know there's Cinco de Mayo, Mother's Day, and the Kentucky Derby during the month of May; but those are pretty ordinary. I have brought you some of May's not-so-ordinary (or extraordinary, depending on which way you look at it) observances.

1) Stepmother's Day -- I didn't even know such a day existed. I'm guessing you didn't, either.

2) National Play Your Ukelele Day -- because everyone has a spare ukelele in their closet.

3) National Special-abled Pet Day -- Okay, this one makes sense to me; I have a 3-legged dog. Don't judge me.

4) Great American Grumpout -- For the percentage who don't celebrate Star Wars Day.

5) Occupational Health & Safety Health Professionals' Day -- yeah, so they can have the day off from all the drunkards celebrating Mexico.

6) National Day to Prevent Teen Pregnancy AND No Pants Day -- 'nuff said.

7) National Babysitter's Day -- Lucky for you guys, it's on a Saturday this year. Celebrate by watching my kids.

8) No Socks Day -- I guess this isn't too far off....I mean, I AM in Kentucky, after all.

9) Mothers at the Wall Day -- I hope they mean the Wal-Mart, otherwise I have no idea what they mean.

10) Windmill Day -- Can't leave the windmills out.

11) Eat What You Want Day -- Okay, I think I will. Since I do everyday anyway.

12) National Nutty Fudge Day -- oh, boy.....I can see the toilet bowl prank photos now....

13) Blame Someone Else Day -- Now you actually have an excuse for placing ill blame.

14) National Chicken Dance Day -- Yesssssssss. Bust it out.

15) Nylon Stockings Day -- In May?! Are you kidding?!

16) Biographer's Day -- Salute those who dare to delve into the lives of others.

17) World Hypertension Day -- Perfect excuse to explain being stressed out.

18) Visit Your Relatives Day -- Hell no.

19) Boys Club Day -- for all you boys who still have clubs.

20) Mike the Headless Chicken Day -- You just have to read it for yourself: www.miketheheadlesschicken.org/story.php

21) I Need a Patch For that Day -- Ya got one for that hole in your head?

22) Neighbor Day -- Go ahead, let them have that cup of sugar instead of just borrow it.

23) National Taffy Day -- Yum.

24) Brother's Day -- Wow. I didn't know this one existed, either.

25) Towel Day -- Yep. Just the way it sounds. You wear a towel (preferably over your clothes.)

26) Scripps' National Spelling Bee -- I LIVE for this moment. EUONYM!

27) Cellophane Tape Day AND National Wig Out Day -- I have no words.

28) International Jazz Day -- Finally one worth something.

29) Rural Life Sunday Day -- Actually pronounced "Sundee."

30) Loomis Day -- The first wireless communication.

31) World No-Tobacco Day -- uhhhh, yeah right. No backer? Fraid not.

There are so many others, but too many to list in one place. Happy May, everyone.

It's Not A Mistaken Identity

It's Derby Week. The Derby Festival is in half force, thanks to the flooding this year. The Steamboat Race has been postponed, the Balloon Glow was moved to a less-than-mediocre location, and nobody can tell me where the Chow Wagon is. Nonetheless, the Kentucky Derby is a staple of identity for the city. Everyone needs something to make them unique, quirky, individual...everyone needs to know what makes them special to someone else. As cliche as it may sound, everyone needs to know where they came from so they know where to go. Tonight, I'll share a poem I wrote in college; it describes my humble upbringings and gives the scope of my roots here.

Luhvul

I am from mint juleps and jockey silks.

The Ohio River is the great divide where I'm from.

I am from the suburban ghetto,

my house covered in eggshells and BB holes.

I am from a hard-working father who held two jobs

and applied for welfare so I could have a stay-at-home mother.

I am from Sunday drives to the Pigeon Run store,

feeding the ducks at McNeeley Lake,

playing Frisbee golf at Iroquois Park.

I am from the place where mom glared down from the choir loft

if my siblings and I were having too much fun during Brother Don's sermon.

I am from a place where we eat ham and turkey for Thanksgiving.

It's a place where my mom, aunt and grandma made their holiday sweatshirts

with glitter paint and festive fabric cut-outs.

I am from Wiffle ball at family barbecues,

kickball on the playground and T-ball at church.

I am from the Pinewood Derby.

Two weeks of sculpting and creating and anticipating

for five seconds of splendor and angst.

I am from a Redbirds game on a clear Saturday night.

I am from a catalpa tree that was so much more:

first base, a swing set, a jungle gym.

I am from Luhvul. That's right, Luhvul.

Always Up For A Good Partisan

So we all know by now that Osama bin Laden is dead. Some Navy SEALS blew up his crib and shot him in the face. Sure, that brings some justice to the attacks he orchestrated against the United States, but I don't see how it can bring peace to those who lost loved ones during those times. Everyone has their own opinion (including myself) of how they think things could have been done better/quicker/more efficiently/smarter...whatever. But the bottom line is that bin Laden can no longer mastermind any other attack against the world. The best way to deal with the past is to learn from it and apply what we learn to our future. Retrospect is always 20/20, and no matter which way we roll the dice, there will always be a shoulda-woulda-coulda.

Even President Obama openly recognized the differences in political opinion in this matter, and so in an effort to bring a little light-heartedness to such a heavy situation, I thought I would leave you with a little joke about politics and religion.....

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A Republican in a wheelchair entered a restaurant one afternoon and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. The Republican looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus sitting over there?" The waitress nodded "yes," so the Republican requested that she give Jesus a cup of coffee, on him.

The next patron to come in was a Libertarian with a hunched back. He shuffled over to a booth, painfully sat down and asked the waitress for a cup of hot tea. He also glanced across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus over there?" The waitress nodded, so the Libertarian asked her to give Jesus a cup of hot tea, "My treat."

The third patron to come into the restaurant was a Democrat on crutches. He hobbled over to a booth, sat down and hollered, "Hey there, honey! How's about gettin' me a cold glass of Miller Light?" He, too, looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that God's boy over there?" The waitress once more nodded, so the Democrat directed her to give Jesus a cold glass of beer. "On my bill," he said.

As Jesus got up to leave, he passed by the Republican, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Republican felt the strength come back into his legs, got up, and danced a jig out the door.

Jesus also passed by the Libertarian, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Libertarian felt his back straightening up, and he raised his hands, praised the Lord and did a series of back flips out the door.

Then, Jesus walked towards the Democrat. The Democrat jumped up and yelled, "Don't touch me...I'm collecting disability."

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Royal White Trash Wedding

In honor of the Royal Wedding tomorrow, I thought I'd post this bundle of joy.

This is the story of the $200,000 white wedding for the 16-year-old girl who lives in a trailer.

What daddy's little girl wants, Daddy's little girl gets. When Missy Quinn insisted on a big white wedding with her boyfriend, her father said yes. It didn't matter that she was only 16 and the groom 17. Daddy also said yes to a $32,000 wedding dress (which looked suspiciously like a crop top and skirt) and yes to 150 guests at the reception. Then there were the cars, the hotels, the tiara, and the $100,000 bouquet.

Check out the belly ring--it matches her earrings! So sophisticated. In the end, making Missy's wedding dreams come true cost her father, who lives in a trailer and surfaces driveways for a living, a whopping $200,000. But as his princess, who hasn't been in a classroom since she was nine and wants to be a glamour model, posed for photographs, her father, Simon, 35, declared it was worth every penny. "I'm very proud of her today," he said.

Missy was just as happy to be the undisputed center of attention. Her dress, studded with Swarovski crystals, and with a 10-ft. wide train, was so heavy that it took ten guests to help her struggle out of the Rolls-Royce Phantom that brought her to the church.

This is Missy with groom Thomas, her mother Theresa (who, it seems, forgot to wear a top) and father Simon.

"It was huge. I wanted to outdo everyone else's wedding dress," she said. "It was extremely heavy and just standing in the church was really difficult. But despite all that, I felt just like Cinderella."

The bill was around five times the cost of the average wedding.

Missy said, "It cost a fortune, but I've always wanted a big wedding and my dad has been saving for ages to pay for it."

Missy met Thomas at Alton Towers Theme Park when she was 13. They continued to daet despite her traveller family leaving their trailer park in Stoke-on-Trent every summer to tour the UK while Thomas lived with his parents in Wolverhampton. Missy said, "I just knew he was The One from the beginning. He's perfect."

Her mother, Theresa, 33, who married Missy's father at 16, said, "I was surprised they wanted to get married so young in this day and age. But we could see they were madly in love." The couple married six days after Missy turned 16 at St. Mary's Catholic Church in Congleton-Cheshire. The bride carried a crystal bouquet that cost $100,000. No fresh flowers for her.

After the ceremony, guests in feathers and crystals enjoyed champagne and an all-day buffet at the reception. Girls as young as nine showed off bikini tops, high heels and makeup. It was a classy affair. Guest Victoria Docherty, 23, who wore a 700 hotpants and bra outfit said, "This isn't unusual -- it's just what we do at weddings. It's all very extravagant. Everything is paid for by the bride's daddy." Missy and Thomas honeymooned in Turkey before moving into their own $36,000 trailer -- a wedding gift from her parents.

Let Me Reintroduce Myself

After a long, bumpy road, I have finally decided what kind of blog I want to run. I am a girl who loves a little bit of everything, so it only makes sense to write about a little bit of everything. I've got a new life with a new outlook and a new focus. I work as a news monitor/editor, and I get to sit and read about cool stuff all day. My brother and I are usually in the middle of some sort of political banter and my sister has a 2-year-old that I frequently babysit (which lends enough stories of its own).

Sometimes I take pictures, I am a regular Stumbler and I am a couch potato to the fullest extent of the law. I love to eat, watch TV and hog the news feed of my Facebook page with my status updates regarding the current program happenings. I often get into heated debates over American Idol and House, but since the most talented singer was voted off Idol tonight, I will be boycotting the show for the rest of the season.

I suppose you want to know what to expect from this new blog of mine. Well, you can expect just what the title suggests: randomosities. I take credit for coining that word, FYI. I began writing a book of random stories from my childhood; sometimes you'll see those here. Sometimes you'll see a weird piece of news, a TV show review, an oddball item from Stumble or whatever else I feel the need to indulge you in. Sometimes I'll post more than once a day, sometimes I'll go a week without saying a word. I'm just random like that. So please, as my blog URL suggests, don't mind my randomosities.