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Entries in Paula Deen (1)


Lagging and Dragging

I've been doing the blog lag and drag lately.  I have some vaguely "good" excuses.  I strained my neck about nine days ago.  Mostly because I have spent so much time on this darn laptop transferring recipes to this blog site from scattered places I perviously used on the web.  Picture that you own a huge filing cabinet.  Further imagine that it has only one super huge drawer.  Imagine that this super huge draw is like the size of ummmmm the basin of the Grand Canyon or ummmm Paula Deen's butt, whichever visual is biggest in your mind's eye. Finally, imagine taking every scrap or piece of paper you have read or written upon and stuffing it into that one drawer willy nilly in a myriad of file folders not organized in any manner.  If you can imagine all of that (I sure hope that you weren't using the Paula Deen visual when I got to the part about stuffing in the papers and file folders), then you have some insight into what a mess all of my stuff was floating around in cyberspace.  Because we are spending three months living in our RV while we rent out our golf resort home, money grubbing retirees that we are, I decided to force myself to find a permanent home for all of my bits and pieces of web detrius while I had no major home responsibilities.  To that end, I have been using the laptop since December.  The only way I can use it is on my lap, hence the constantly bent over neck.  Seven days of two sodium naproxin twice a day and limited laptop typing has finally relieved the muscle spasms.

The other thing I've been working on is readying us for a cruise.  We retake possession of our house on April 1st.  I've scheduled Gladys to come in to clean all day April 1st and 2nd.  Then we begin emptying out the RV.  We'll move everything from here that has to go home, food, clothes, all of the winter clothes we had in Canada for three months and lots of bathroom things etc..  Then, we'll clean the RV.  After that we'll move everything we had stored in one side of the garage, everything from all closets, all pantry items, all bathroom items in all the bathrooms, all chest and dresser clothing, all office cabinets and desk supplies.  It's a lot of work. 

Sixteen days after we repossess the house, we lug our valises to the Trirail station and hop the train to the cruise terminal in Ft. Lauderdale.  From there we board the Celebrity Constellation.  We will spend fifteen nights crossing the Atlantic repositioning the ship to England.  I've spent hours and hours reading about the excursion offerings and researching the port of call cities.  There are eight stops beginning in warm Nassau and Bermuda and progressing to what might be much colder weather in the Azores, Portugal, Spain and France.  We need both formal and casual clothes for the cruise.  Then, we have a month in England where the weather in may is anybody's guess.  Finally, everthing we carried on the ship or accumulated on our journey, has to be packed into suitcases meeting international airline regulations for size and weight.

I have been like a field marshall with a major battle plan.  I've decided we are wearing white, black, tan and red.  Both of us.  This makes for easier packing.  We'll mix and match to the nth degree.  This of course involves lots of wardrobe decision-making.  I am no longer listening to any of husband's hogwash about "All I need is three shirts and two pairs of shoes.  You can wash things out by hand in the basin."  I am tired of him looking like some old Grandpa who just crawled out of someone's Goodwill donation bag.  I'm not doing hand wash on the cruise.  I am not going to be embarrassed by what he packs or doesn't.  He has lovely clothes.  He needs to stop wearing navy polo shirts with black golf shorts.  Today I bought him beautiful Calvin Kline black and white plaid bermudas, a white Perry Ellis shirt and a new belt.  I brought it all home, dumped it in his lap and dared him to try to rebel. He saw "the look" and was smart enough not to say anything negative.  I also bought him 36' waist rather than 34s.  I am sick to death of seeing old men who go around with their pants waist below their bellies with a big 'ol pot hanging over because they refuse to admit that they need bigger waist size.  Husband's 34" waist days are gone. It left about the same time as his thicker hair.  If he wants me to do all this strategic planning while he sits under the awning reading (as he is now) then he had best just go along to get along.

OK, that's mostly why I haven't been here.  Aren't you sorry that you wondered where I was?  Something about letting sleeping dogs lie comes to mind here...I have miles to go before I sleep.