Help Me Rhonda

I love birthday parties. Like seriously, for real love birthday parties. There is just something about getting a group of friends together to celebrate life. The laughter, the hugs, the love...ahhh. And let's face it - cake with butter creme icin makes everything better.

Anyhoo, I have a dilemma - a quandary - a tight spot - a catch 22 - a jam - a predicament - a fix - a sticky situation. Ya know what I am sayin? And what do I ALWAYS do when I have a decision to make?

I call YOU my faithfully wise friends. And Rhonda, cause the song tells me to. Is there a Rhonda in the house? No? Well, just pretend.

Middle Twerp is having his 5 year old birthday party. Ah -- 5 years old. It makes ya just smile thinking about. He knows what he wants - A SPIDERMAN PARTY at HIS NEW HOUSE. There were no discussions, no quandaries, no predicaments...nope. None. He was decisive and sure of his decision and he has not wavered. Not once.

So we are all set. And in my efforts to actually PLAN and PREPARE in ADVANCE, I go to his Pre Kindergarten class to request names to make invitations. And then. Then. It all changed.

You see, MT PreK teacher's family is going through some challenges during these rough economic times. So she took matters into her own hands and is opening her own party place. It will open in 2 weeks and she wants me to have MT's birthday party at her new place. She has two themes: knights and magician. She is sweet and kind and wonderful....and, as I have found through numerous phone calls and letters, quite the sales lady.

She has set up the entire party for MT. I am talkin planned it ALL OUT - giving me a discount for ALL the kids in the class. And she is so excited at the business opportunity of 20 kids seeing her facility in hopes of future bookings.

Great, right? Fab, right? Easy, right? WRONG!

Middle Twerp wants a SPIDERMAN party AT HIS NEW HOUSE with a SPIDERMAN web cake. And he ain't thinkin bout any alternatives. Nope. Nada. None.

So I graciously let his PreK teacher know. And I could see the disappointment on her face. She is just trying to get her business started. And although she does not have a SPIDERMAN theme party, we could tweak something at her place probably, but MT wants it as HIS NEW HOUSE.

I know. I know. What is a girl to do? IJ is not even thinkin bout doing 2 parties -- I mean NO WAY thinking about it. But how can I say no to her? It is a little pricey, but she is just tryin to make ends meet.

What am I to do????? He is 5. Really? Will he care? Will he remember? Will he notice? Uhm, as much as I wanna say NO NO NO. I know him oh-so-well and it is YES, he will care. Yes, he will remember, YES he will notice and throw a hissy fit.

Can we have a FEW over for a small party at our house and then do the big one at the PreK teacher's place? We don't know anyone to invite, we are just inviting the entire PreK class and IJ says no.

WHAT AM I TO DO? HOW CAN I SAY NO TO HER?

So here are my options:

1. Have SPIDERMAN PARTY at our house, maybe do BT's at her place. And single-handedly financially ruin the poor lady and her family.
2. Have MAGICIAN party with PreK teacher, and let MT realize it ain't all bout him.
3. Have two parties as to help his Pre K teacher out, and get a divorce.

Oh puh leez wise friends help me out. I just cannot decide this one alone.
Is there a Rhonda in the house?

Hard Rock Kinda Week

My ipod playlist changes based on my mood. My summer time music is different than my winter music. My drive home music is totally different than my drive to work music. I gotta have upbeat Eye of the Tiger music on my way to work. I mellow out to something classic, like Dr. Feelgood on my way home. I kid. I kid. Sorta. My exercise music...well, okay- I have no exercise music but I do have dancin music, does that account for anything?

Anyhoo, my mood changes - my music changes. This week -- this week? This week, here are my top 10 tunes on my ipod. And I know I only listed nine. But that is how into details I am and all. It is just a hard rock kinda week.

Rock n Roll All Nite KISS

Rock You Like A Hurricane Scorpions

Livin on a Prayer Bon Jovi - This sing always reminds me of The Oompa Loompas in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Fight for Your Right Beastie Boys Please don't judge me.

You Give Love A Bad Name Bon Jovi

Enter Sandman Metallica

Back in Black AC/DC

Shook Me All Night Long AC/DC

Welcome to the Jungle Guns n Roses

I am totally Aqua Netting my bangs today and rolling my pants. And you can't stop me. Please don't try.

LYLAS,
Country Girl

Frankoma Lover

I have a serious obsession with Frankoma Pottery. I know. I know. I am like an eighty year old woman. The only difference is I still won't puffer in public. But I might start chewin tobaccer and all. I kid. I kid. If you are judgin and all.

Anyhoo, I got this piece last Christmas and I have never baked anything in it cause I am scared of messin it up. But tonight? Tonight?

Apple Dumplins were callin my name....at 11 pm. And I was a nervous wreck.

Not over the fact that my thighs might swell up the size of Sequoyah tree trunks, but what if my Frankoma can't handle the heat?

So I paced and fidgeted and worried for 45 minutes.... Until he came home to momma.

Now I am all Frankoma Schmankoma. Apple Dumplin? Hello lover of my soul. Burp.

What Makes Me....Me?

Dana asked me the other day what has happened in my life to make me ... well, me. I know she is looking for an answer like I was dropped on my head NUMEROUS times or that I was locked in a dark closet for years or maybe my momma smoked a little happy weed when she was prego with my eggo. All of these could be possibilities but I don't remember any of them. But that ain't sayin much. That happy weed coulda fried most my brain cells anyways.

But I know what you were askin Dana - the whole acceptance and love thang. And I don't really have an answer except for this:

Nature + Nurture = You. I know. Deep, deep thoughts. Aren't you glad I didn't charge ya for this?

First let me say I have ALWAYS been a sensitive kid. Like, embarrassingly sensitive. I was the sixth grader who cried at Fox and the Hound. I was the eighth grader who cried at Carrie. I was the junior that cried at the Feed The Children commercials. I cry at the thought of possibly the potential of someone being treated unfairly. My feelings could and would get hurt at the drop of a hat. I felt others' pain maybe more than I did my own (Mom, remember my hunger strike after the homeless man at King's Island?) It is just how I have always been...a blubbering cryin basket case.

On the other hand, I think life's experiences teach you some valuable lessons. And inevitably, hurts. But it is all about what you do with that...do you play the victim or shake it off and make something of it?

Cause you know what I believe?

I believe that our personal passion is often rooted in our personal pain.
And it seems to me the deeper our pain, the deeper our passion.

Have you noticed this about people? The one who has experienced something difficult is then the one who can make a difference with others going through the same thing?

A pregnant teen grows up to run a pregnancy crisis center?

Or the young boy who gets caught up in drugs becomes the counselor at the local clinic?

Because life's lessons have a tendency to humble us and chip off the arrogance of your youth. At least it did for me.

So, I guess Dana, if there is anyone in this world who has needed forgiveness and acceptance more than me ... I have not met them. I, at one time or another, have embodied all the ugliness I can imagine. I know I am not where I need to be, but thank God I am not where I use to be.

And at then end of the day, if I could possibly, maybe, even a little help someone feel loved for being exactly who they are - then how could I not?

How about you? What is your passion? Do you agree or do you still think it might be the happy weed? Maybe even as we speak?

Hear Ye, Hear Ye! A Vote Is In Order.

Last night I settled in for some bedlam and snuggles. And let me tell you, there are no two twerps on the face of the earth that understand snuggles more than my two youngest spawn.

If I sit down, it is like a magnet...they are there...and I love it

But let me tell you. some times it can become - uncomfortable, restricting, not-so-pleasant, a little suffocating.

Cause you see that little sliver of bed in the middle of these two boys? That is where I slept all night last night .... ALL NIGHT.All I am sayin is they won't be doing this when they are 17 and 16. So I have to eat it all up right now. Or have more in a few years? I think we should vote on it.

I Am Obsessed

I get on these kicks. These weird obsessions. In which I just cannot live without. Some last - like Dr Pepper lip gloss. Some come and go - like Baby Soft. But this one, this one is still undetermined.

But I have a new obsession with cheese. Like the smokey kind and the creamy kind and the crumbly kind. I am dreamin bout it. Eatin it for lunch and supper....I am obsessed.

What about you? What is your obsession?

Baby Twerps Debut

Hello. My name is Baby Twerp and welcome to my first art show. I don't mean to brag or anything, but I got skillz. My mom says I take after her - but she drinks too much wine and wears too much lip gloss. I don't think you can trust her.

This is my first work. I call it cheeseburger. I think it is pretty self-explanatory.

These is Nemo...notice the way I swirled the colors. I got that from my momma as she dances to the ipod. And let me just say...it works WAY better on this fish than on her. That is all I am sayin.

This is called "My mom after she cries and her make up runs everywhere." She likes to act like it don't happen, but I am here to tell ya that this is how she looks.

This? This is called"WWF Smack down." My mother would not approve.

I have begun to dabble a little in writing. I like to call it bloggin. My teacher asked "Would you rather play in the snow or the rain?" My answer is in purple -- The snow so I can throw snowballs. I dominate on the snowball front.And this? This is my signature cause I can't write my name quite yet. But I don't like to focus on the details and all.

Details Schmetails.

Sunday Morning and Satan

Lucifer himself shows up at our house on Sunday mornings. Cause he is a hungry lion seeking whom he may devour. And I make him lick his chops. And apparently, we look mighty tasty. I blame it on the fifth piece of coffee cake. And the fourth apple dumplin. But that is all Satan's fault too. He is such a tempter. He sucks.

Anyhoo, this Sunday mornin we had ALL three twerps dressed and ready. All beds made, breakfast ingested and all that was awaiting our sainthood deployment was shoes.

As I climbed the stairs to put shoes and socks on twenty toes, I heard a noise that made me nervous....SILENCE. And when I rounded the corner to the NICE AND NEAT BEDROOM WHICH I HAD JUST CLEANED AND TIDIED, I saw this....

And I heard giggles....

Comin from here....

And I am so sorry, but how could I be mad at them? You know Satan made them do it.

Who could it be? Could it beee..... Ssssaaaatan?

Anyhoo, on our way home from confession chats, and holy water soakin and Hail Mary shoutin...we started to look for someplace to eat....and I KID YOU NOT...this sign kinda tempted me.

But Indiana Jones would have no part of it so we went to a great Mexican joint...cause with Mexican you can neva go wrong. It is like glitter....appropriate for all occasions.

Anyhoo, as a chowed down I kept notice IJ starin at me....

What? What? Is there something on my face? I cannot break the rhythm of eating long enough to wipe my chin.

Please don't judge me. I now am like the fatten calf. Just a little plumper for Satan next Sunday. But he better watch out...cause I got skillz...Nun chuck skillz, computer hackin skillz, tax preparation skillz.....

German Coffee Cake That Will Make You Yodel

This is some of my great-grandmother's china. Which we found when we were moving houses. I remember the sugar bowl that sat on the counter with a silver sugar spoon and it was used to make me Tang when I walked next door to their house. I also remember this bowl was put in the summer kitchen to feed the cats. I know. I know. Welcome to my world.

Anyhoo, it got me reminiscing and thinking about Grandma and Auntie and soon I started thinking about their German Coffee Cake. Oh. Hello. Lover. I knew I had that recipe somewhere so I started looking through my recipe box.And it gave me an excuse to put on my new apron. I {HEART} my new apron.

And let me tell you. This German Coffee Cake is two things.

1) Good. So good it will make you confess your undying love and wanna make babies.

2) Really German. Like for real. Like they were from Germany. And like this is their recipe. From Germany. Seriously.

The Line Up: brown sugar, white sugar, vegetable oil, flour, salt, egg, baking soda, buttermilk, and cinnamon.

Notice that half gallon of whole milk? Pretend like it is not there. It is NOT in this recipe. It was just feelin left out like a red headed step child. Bless its heart.

That is all the ingredients. Simple. Sweet. Beautiful. Although I always wanna add butter. But there is no butter. Unbelievable, I know.
Start with 1 scant cup of brown sugar (not packed). Scant means NOT QUITE. I had to ask my mom. Add 1 scant cup of white sugar.

Add 1 cup vegetable oil

1 teaspoon of salt (I have a thang for salt and pepper shakers. I have to keep it under control or I will be one of those people who have ones from every state and a dancing Elvis set. I know. You are jealous of my coolness.)

Then add 2 1/2 cups of flour and mix it all together. It should become a crumb mixture like above.

Set aside 1 cup to later become the topping. Trust me.

To the remaining mixture add 1 egg.

1 cup of buttermilk.1 teaspoon cinnamon.

and 1 teaspoon of baking soda (which grandma said to add to the buttermilk, but I never listen)Mix it all together.

Grease and flour a baking dish.

Pour in....And remember that 1 cup of crumble mixture stuff you saved back....it is now time for it to step into its glory. Sprinkle it all over the top.Sprinkle with some more cinnamon and sugar.

Bake at 350 degrees for about 40 to 45 minutes....

And then I kid you not, you will start saying Vohn Ingle Schintzel Mon Ditz Bernardaitz Scheadri Klantz.

You you might even yodel. Is that Germans? or Swiss People?

I don't know, but you will thank me for - ev - er for this new lover I have introduced into your life.

Love,

Country VanGirlitz