May. 24th, 2009

dabhug: (Default)
Actually, it's three and a half, but who's counting?

Twelve down, twelve to go! To remind everyone of why we're here, we're bloggin' and stampin', eatin' and yackin' for twenty-four hours to raise money for HELP Animals, Inc. They supply oxygen masks for animals to fire departments. We're raising money for masks for our local fire departments.

We're taking Paypal with all fees spotted so your full donation goes to the masks. We also are accepting checks made out to HELP Animals, Inc sent to an address via PM. And we'll take your loose change and small bills via mail. Remember, we have a generous anonymous donor willing to MATCH ALL DONATIONS so get the most for your money! Operators are standing by!

Thank you so much to all of you who have supported us so far. We've got TWELVE HOURS TO GO and I'm hoping the UK and Down Under crowd comes along and keeps us company.






dabhug: (red kitchenaid)
Brownies are in the oven.  We don't need no stinkin' box mix!

I use the KitchenAid for this, but you can use a hand mixer.

1 c. butter, softened and divided
4 squares unsweetened chocolate
2 c. sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3 eggs
1 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp salt
1 c chopped nuts - I like pecans.  Pronounced correctly.  Puh-cahn.  Not Pee-can.

Melt 1/2 c, butter and chocolate in small saucepan over low heat.  Set aside to cool.

Place remaining 1/2 c butter, sugar and vanilla in mixer bowl.  Mix for 30 seconds at Speed 2.  Turn to Speed 6 and beat for two minutes.  Turn to Speed 4 and add eggs, one at a time.  Add cooled chocolate mixture.  Turn to Speed 2 and mix for about thirty seconds.  Add all remaining ingredients.  Turn to Stir Speed and mix well.

Pour into greased and floured 13x9x2 baking pan.  Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.  Cool and cut in pan.

Serve with coffee, ice cream and kahlua.  ;o)
dabhug: (Default)


Smart and hot.  Two great tastes that taste great together.
dabhug: (bff text)
I gotta catch up.

Honestly and truthfully, the best time of the day for me is at around 8:00 pm when I'm "done" for the day and I can slow my tired self down.  When I can sit on the couch with the boy and watch tv or read or I can go back to my tv room and lie down and watch tv.  It's when I can finally say *sigh* at the end of the day.  It's the me time.
dabhug: (Default)
$210!!!!!  With the match, that makes $420!!!!

Brownies make everything better.
dabhug: (bones trouble call agent booth)

Mechanical or human, makes no never mind to me.

One of the few issues that I had with this house when I bought it was the fact that it had no dishwasher.  It's an older house, built in the Sixties.  They didn't need no stinkin' dishwasher.  J convinced me we could make do without it.  After all, we hardly used the ones in our apartments.  And he swore, forever and for true, to be the human dishwasher of the house.  It works better than a marriage proposal and a pre-nup!  The only problem is when he goes out of town and he takes the dishwasher with him.

Help.

dabhug: (wildthing)
Good music is music that makes you feel something.  Genre doesn't matter, we can argue about what type the music is, but I won't ever argue about what's good.  I feel about music like I feel about books.  I don't care what you read, as long as you are reading.  I don't care what you listen to, as long as you are listening.  Feel something.

A song can take me back to a certain time, a certain place.  I can be driving to work on some random Tuesday, and the right song can come on the radio and all of a sudden, I'm sixteen and still cute and healthy and smart and in love with a boy, the future spread out in front of me, full of possibility.  I can be standing at the sink, washing dishes, and a song shuffles up on the mp3 player and I'm struck with grief, missing someone so bad I'd swear there was a hole in my heart.  There may be a million reasons why I've lost contact with someone who was once important, but the song remembers them.  The song remembers when.

One of my favorite things to do is to sit out on the patio at my chosen family's house, listening to "classic" music, talking about music's history, identifying artists and songs, introducing a new generation to the classics, and telling stories.  Music tells a story.  You decide which one.
dabhug: (bones booth f ties close-up)
We aim to please...







I had to include this one!  It's like he's an unofficial sponsor!


dabhug: (house can't stop our love)










I can has bed with Colin Firth pillow?  I don't think they sell that at Target.  So sleepy!

Let me know if we left anyone out, we will remedy it!
dabhug: (Default)
It's almost 5:00 in the morning here and we're SEVENTEEN HOURS into the BFF-athon!  We've received $235 in pledges and donations, with the match, making $470!  We have the BEST FRIEND'S LISTS IN THE WORLD.

Please scroll back through my posts for the Paypal button if you'd like to donate.  I'm aboout wiped, guys, but the end is in sight.  Comment with any questions, concerns, etc.

GROUP HUG.  Special thanks to the UK Contingent and the insomniacs on this side of the pond for getting us through the last few hours.  We'll be cooking up something special for you guys!

SEVEN HOURS - fourteen posts - TO GO!
dabhug: (bones cocky belt buckle)
That there is a not-famous Baldwin named Clem?  True story.

BFF-athon

May. 24th, 2009 05:29 am
dabhug: (Default)
99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 98 bottles of beer on the wall.
98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 97 bottles of beer on the wall.
97 bottles of beer on the wall, 97 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 96 bottles of beer on the wall.
96 bottles of beer on the wall, 96 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 95 bottles of beer on the wall.
95 bottles of beer on the wall, 95 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 94 bottles of beer on the wall.
94 bottles of beer on the wall, 94 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 93 bottles of beer on the wall.
93 bottles of beer on the wall, 93 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 92 bottles of beer on the wall.
92 bottles of beer on the wall, 92 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 91 bottles of beer on the wall.
91 bottles of beer on the wall, 91 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 90 bottles of beer on the wall.
90 bottles of beer on the wall, 90 bottles of beer.  Take one down pass it around, 89 bottles of beer on the wall.
dabhug: (Default)
We've made it through the night, folks.  Thank you for sticking with us.  It's much appreciated.

Dawn is breaking and it's not often that I'm awake to see it.
dabhug: (Default)
My family dynamic leaves a lot to be desired.  For all pratical purposes, my grandparents raised me and for the first five years or so of my life, my mother's siblings were my siblings.  My aunt was thirteen when I was born.  She took to me and treated me like her little doll.  I remember being able to spend time with her in her room when she was getting ready for dates.  I remember taking a special set of pictures that was of just the two of us.  It was the 80s and feathered hair and Aquanet ruled.  Stevie Nicks was queen of the radio.  I remember singing along to Fleetwood Mac with the hairbrush in the mirror.  It was a special place, a special time, before things fell apart.  I felt special, I felt wanted.  There are pictures of us together, my aunt beautiful with her hair and her makeup just so and me, her little shadow.

I grew up and she moved away and had a kid of her own and now all we are are strangers,  But there was a time when I meant something to her.  And she meant something to me.
dabhug: (Default)
If only for The Asshole Song.

"Were you booooooorn an asshole"

That's gonna be stuck in my head ALL DAY,

Better than 99 Bottles of Beer, right?
dabhug: (up to no good)
Need water.  Need post topics.  FIVE HOURS.  I thought I heard Jesus.  But it turned out to be Alan Rickman.


dabhug: (Default)
A couple of weeks ago, J called me out to look at something in the yard.  Turns out it was a snake, skittering across the front yard.  We got close enough to look at him and he looked like this:



And after I got over myself and realized he wasn't poisonous, I went inside to get my trusty North American Wildlife Book.  Turns out its a type of King Snake, one that eats other snakes, mice and bugs.  A good snake, if y ou're so inclined.

We left him to go on his way, checking every so often to make sure he was actually, you know, making way.  And that's when I saw him curling up in the tire of the Jimmy.

Danger, Will Robinson!  TILT!  Unacceptable!



With a little prodding from J (what?  You think I"MA MESS WITH A SNAKE? I don't really care if he's poisonous or not, snakes put the heebie in my jeebie) he decided to continue on his way.  He really did just want to stay out of our way (Just passin' through, ma'am).  We sat on the front porch watching his progress.  As he progressed through the neighbor's property, he raised quite a ruckus with the local bluejay population.  Eventually, he shuffled through there and I can only hope he made it to his destination unharmed.


dabhug: (Default)

[livejournal.com profile] kathrynrose  wants to know your Best Episode of Buffy EVER,  Go play in comments and tell her I sent ya.

I TENTATIVELY say "I Only Have Eyes for You" because I am a hopeless romantic and Buffy/Angel shipper.
dabhug: (Default)
We're nearing the end of our twenty-four hours together, folks. For those of you just tuning in, we're bloggin' and stampin', eatin' and yackin' for a full twenty-four hours. We've only got three and a half hours left and our punctuation is being checked at the door. We're doing all this because we love spending time together and we're raising money for the HELP Animals, Inc. people who provide oxygen masks for animal rescue for the local fire departments. We'd love for you to pimp this far and wide as we come close to wrapping things up.

So far we've received $265 in pledges and donations. We're accepting donations through Paypal or checks made out to HELP Animals, Inc. mailed to an address provided via PM. We'll also take loose change and small bills through the mail. All Paypal fees will be spotted so that the full amount of your donation goes towards the masks. We also have a generous benefactor who is MATCHING ALL DONATIONS!

We've got some lovely parting gifts and door prizes that we'll be sending out, so if you're planning on donating, there's still time.

Thank y'all so much for putting up with us, interacting with us and keeping it interesting and real. You guys made the difference.






dabhug: (Default)
Apparently, they like the eggs.
dabhug: (i love you)
I posted this about a year ago and it's that time of year, so I thought it fitting and deserving of a repost.

Tell the people you love that you love them.  Doesn't take long and you don't need their response, you just need to make the statement.

Today I saw a man in the grocery store that looked just like Justin's daddy.  He had three gallons of milk, two steaks and a fifth of Jack Daniels in his buggy.  I imagined that the JD went in first, because that would be what Justin's daddy would do.

I met Justin the first day of school my sophomore year in 1992.  He sat across the aisle from me in Civics class.  He made me laugh and I could tell that he hid behind his jokes and his rowdy reputation.  His nickname was "Tank" because he was as big as one.  He called me "Harley" (guess my last name) and became my bodyguard my first year at my new school.

He dated a lot of girls, I dated a lot of boys but we still remained close friends.  When I left for college, we swore we'd keep in touch.  He had one last year left in high school.  He came up some weekends while I was in college and we'd see movies, go to the bars, talk about home.  He was doing what all the boys in my hometown did, milked cows every morning and afternoon for spending money, went to school with cow shit caked on their boots, screwed whichever girl would at night, smoked some weed, drank a lot of Strawberry Hill, rode the loop, fixed up their cars, parked down by the river, wished and dreamed about making it out, but most never did.

He asked me to his Senior Prom and, of course, I went.  It was right around the time I was getting sick, I think I stayed up the entire weekend without any sleep.  It was worth it.  Justin was the perfect gentleman and we ended the evening at his daddy's bar.

I convinced Justin to pursue his dream to work on the big rigs, to get out of that backwater cowtown, to become something other than some girl's ticket to a better life.  He went to Nashville and spent three years there.  By that time I was through with college and through with my marriage and ready to live a little bit.  Justin was there.  I spent a lot of weekends back home and with Justin.  We never were more than friends, regardless of what he thought he wanted.  

We spent a lot of time riding the backroads, listening to Creedence and Bad Company, philosophising, smoking cigarettes and drinking way too much.  We'd wind up at the bar, dancing and drinking and hanging out with his daddy.  By this time, Justin was going all over the country, making pretty good money for someone from Kentwood and able to buy and do whatever he wanted.  He asked me to marry him one night, telling me he'd take care of me, telling me he'd always loved me, telling me he'd buy me anything in the world I wanted.  I loved him, I'd always loved him, but never in the way that he needed and wanted me to.  I told him no and we tried to move on from there, but never really could.  I hated to see him drink his life away after that.  Hated seeing him chase after things that never would be what he wanted.  The Christmas after my grandfather died, he asked me again, and again I had to tell him no.  We continued to grow apart, with my life taking me in other directions and Justin's keeping him in the past.

That Spring he told me that he had found someone and she made him happy.  I was glad for him.  He told me that he'd asked her to marry him and she'd said yes.  He just wanted me to know, but wouldn't tell me who it was, although he told me that it was someone that I knew.

Justin married my sister in July of 2004.  I stood as maid of honor for her because she's my family and Justin was my Tank first.  I was so hurt that they both couldn't just tell me, but I wanted to try to be better, to be happy for them, for Justin to be my family.  At family gatherings, Justin would never meet my eye, would never stay in the room if it were just me there.  My brother would rib him constantly, there were jokes about Justin saying my name instead of my sister's when they were intimate, my classmates at my high school reunion got a big kick out of Justin marrying my sister.  To say it was awkward would be redundant.  I was always so hurt that we couldn't overcome all this and be friends, honor the friendship we had for all those years.

Justin's health took a turn for the worse.  I was back home for a visit and he had been ill.  He was rushed to the hospital that Friday night with trouble breathing.  He was stabilized and seemed to be doing ok.  I was supposed to go visit him that Saturday, but got there after visiting hours were over.  I wanted to talk to him, to tell him that ... even now, I don't know what I was going to tell him.  All I know is that I didn't get to see him, to talk to him when I had the chance.  The phone rang at 2:00 that morning saying that he had crashed and they were intubating him.  By the time my brother and I got down to the hospital to be with my sister, he had died.  I was too late.

I helped my sister get through all of the preparations and the funeral.  I helped her be strong.  I told my four year old nephew that his Daddy Justin was gone.  And then I came back home and put it away in a little box inside my heart.  Because in my mind, Justin was still back home, still making people laugh, still dancing and drinking and listening to Creedence.

Until I saw that man in the grocery store today.


dabhug: (bones cocky belt buckle)
And apparently, that's when we break out the David Allan Coe.
dabhug: (bff text)
It's a funny thing, but pop culturally, I meet the gap between Julie and Kate.  What Julie doesn't like but Kate likes, I like.  What Kate doesn't like but Julie likes, I like.  There are a lot of "Oh my GAWD, I cannot believe you didn't like that movie/song/book" that goes on in our conversations.  Ferris Bueller - Kate against/Julie for/Donna for.  Fight Club - Julie for/Kate against/Donna against.  You know, that kind of thing.

I think it's because yes, Kate is a different generation than us, but I was raised by Kate's parent's generation, so I fill in the gaps.  I'm sure there's some term for that, but I haven't done my googling.  Heh.

It's interesting and fun.  We go together like ramma lamma lamma ka dinga da dinga dong....
dabhug: (bob noncomm salute)
This weekend is Memorial Day in the United States and a good time to take a moment to thank a veteran, take a moment to send good thoughts and energy to those men and women serving in the Armed Forces.
dabhug: (i love you)
Circa December 1956.



My grandmother, grandfather and new baby, my mother.


dabhug: (big damn hero)
We did it, you guys!  The BFF-athon comes to a close and we could not have done it without you!  You kept us entertained, you kept us motivated, you kept us flush with the cash.

I am so proud of us!

We're keeping the lines open until Tuesday, just in case.

Tally: $370 with a match giving $740 dollars.  We'll update with the final total when we send the money!

GROUP HUG
dabhug: (awestruck)
I've now been up for 31 hours.

I can't remember the last time I stayed up so long.  College?  Perhaps.
dabhug: (house sleep)
That's it, y'all.  I'm going to bed.  I've been up for 42 hours with about three 20 minute naps scattered in there.  I think that might be a record.

Thanks for keeping it real.  Sweet dreams.

July 2010

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