He's Not Sick, He's Dead

My Daily Confessional: Pssst. Hey you...

Let me get straight to the point. I. am. a. horrible. nurse.  I would just as soon KILL you than nurse you back to health. Unless you're between the ages of newborn to five years old and have white blonde hair, or dark brown curly hair and big hazel, brown, or blue eyes. Then I don't mind. I will rock you and sing to you and tend to you gently and softly until the morning sun rises over yon hill.

You're how old?  Sorry I've just pulled your life support.

Granny and Grandaddy, I've killed your child. I didn't want to do it, but I couldn't help myself.
*big sigh*  

Here we have the terribly ill man upon his sick bed, yet he somehow maintains the strength to work the remote control.


Poor Mr. Wonderful has been sick for a week. A WEEK. Do you understand what I'm saying? I ask you,  Do you know what men are like when they are sick? (Sorry 'bout wrapping both hands around your throat just then and violently shaking you).   I asked  him nicely on day three to move to a nursing home but he wouldn't do it. By day five, I went to our liquor cabinet for a little relief. After searching frantically through every room in this house I came to the shocking realization THERE IS NO LIQUOR CABINET!

After sipping a bottle of Gatorade mixed with a little 'Old Bay' seasoning, I knew what to do.

Can you say pillow?!  Psycho laughter is now merrily ringing through the halls of justice. What does that even mean? Don't ask me because  I don't know! I 've obviously snapped.

As you can see, he offered the pillow and I took him up on his kind offer. Or maybe he was hiding his unshaven sickly face from being photographed. Whatever. It doesn't really matter anymore.

It's day seven and he's sleeping quietly now, FOREVER. 'Glory glory hallelujah, glory, glory hallelujah...' she sang as she gently rocked back and forth.

 The sound of his hacking cough just pierced my eardrum.

$50 bucks says he won't go to the doctor tomorrow...$500 says if he doesn't, I'm gonna kill him. For real this time.

OOPSIE! I FORGOT...

Oops! Recipe Correction:

For the Outta-This-World Cheese Grit recipe, you need two more ingredients:

Add one cup of milk when you add the eggs; and sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top when you bake.

I love me some GREE-UTS.

It's been a mah-ve-lous and extravagant week here at 'fatcamp'. From the ectasy of buttery croissants  filled with chicken salad good enough to make you break out in the Hallelujah chorus, and kiss the Queen Mums'soft...

hand.

 

to THEE-US,  Butta-rey  Brow-own gree-uts. Golden  and delicious, these cheese grits are THE BEST  IN THE WORLD!! Don't take my word for it. Make them yourself...I double dog dare you. But I must warn you: Your life will never be the same. If you allow your virgin-cheesegrit lips to taste them, you will have periodic night sweats with cravings so strong you'll have to bite a strip of leather to keep yourself from licking them straight from the pan.

Only these grits. I didn't even care for the chickenfeed before.  Now I've got an obsession bordering on addiction, bordering on a severe case of hoarding with a touch of IBS.  Gee, Thanks Debbie.

I mean, God Bless You Debbie!  May you win the coveted "Cheesegrit Queen of the South"  title, along with the sparkly sash and fake diamond studded crown!

Here's the recipe: Guaranteed to make your butt a little bigger and your heart a little happier!

Makes 8 servings
4 cups of water
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of quick  grits
1 1/2 cups shredded sharp cheddar cheese
1/2 cup butter
4 eggs beaten
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper

Directions:
Combine salt/water -bring to a boil
gradually stir in grits, reduce to low heat, cover and cook for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally
remove from heat-add 1 cup cheese, butter, stir until melted
add eggs and pepper
Fold into a 2qt. baking dish, and bake on 350 degrees for 1 hour or until golden brown.

Enjoy!

Dahlings Let's Have A Teaparty!

Dahlings, hello and good morning and all that other mushy stuff I'm prone to say on a day such as today.

You see, its TEAPARTY time here the Reasonably Chubby  residence and really there could be nothing more fun.

You think your husband buying you a diamond ring would be more fun? Well, see that proves you don't know anything.

Bungee jumping? Well. that just proves you're plain crazy with a little bit of dumb thrown in.

No, dearhearts, its TEAPARTIES that are fun, the absolute most fun in all the world and I wish terribly you could all be here to join in the merriment. But, alas you cannot. So, I shall drink a cup of tea with four sugar cubes in your honor instead...

I have 7 friends coming tonight and it's taken me 7 hours to get ready. Coincidence? I think not. Thank goodness I've decided to throw a party. I needed a reason to dust. And clean the potties.

I'm serving scones with clotted cream and lemon curd, chicken salad on croissant, and of course chocolate covered strawberries.

Here's my sweet daughter slaving away in the kitchen. This thrills my heart like none other-my children being my personal servants. I asked her to wear a uniform to make it official but she refused. It's hard to find obedient help these days.

It was such a feast for the eyes I took another picture.

And another...MOTHER, she growled with a meaness I hadn't heard before...She's going to make an excellent mother someday now that she's honed 'the look'.

Dahlings, I'll be thinking of you tonight. I promise. Especially after all my guests have gone home, and I'm looking at the disaster left behind  in my kitchen.

Tootles for now...Oh, and hugs and cheeky kisses!

Good News!

I have good news. I will not under any circumstance be changing the name of this blog. Unless you pay me like, at least a hundred bucks, or offer to take me out to dinner. Then, I might.  I'm cheap and flighty as you well know.

This decision came after careful thought  and napping and my youngest daughter saying, "what, are you stupid?
And that's what woke me up. Literally, her voice in my ear, saying, 'mom! mom! take me shopping... She reminded me that being "reasonably" chubby was perfectly acceptable. Desirable even, at my age. (Thoughtful of her to point out. Even though she did kind of say it in a mean way.  "Who wants some stringy-armed old woman to give you a hug? I like soft."  Her words, not mine. I quicky reminded her, "I'm only 44, not 104. You realize me and Cindy Crawford are the same age?  I can still bear children."  She just stared at me...)
 She reminded me that a "reasonably" chubby lap was always the favorite spot everyone wanted to be on a cold winter's night. (She does love to cuddle. She'd probably like it if I'd feed her a bottle but I refuse. I have my limits.)

Anyway, I know you're absolutely THRILLED  my blog will remain as is. That's why I like you. Small, insignificant things thrill you.  Me too. I can't even begin to share how happy I was with my newest nail polish/file kit picked up for 5 measly cents today at a garage sale.

P.S. I'm on a 'healthy eating for 40 days kick'.  So far, so good. 1 1/2 days down, 38 1/2 days to go... If I keep this up I'll probably be able to speak perfect chinese by breakfast.

My Name Is Slim...

I'm seriously considering changing the name of this blog. To  'superskinny'. Or maybe 'wispofawoman'.  I've also considered 'superfit',  'ieatcrunchylettuce', and 'scrawnychicken.'

Why? you ask? in your shrill voiced,  frightened way... *SIGH*   Leettle grasshoppah, come hee-uhre. I shall enlighten you. It is after all one of my favorite jobs, enlightening the world with my brilliant flashes of insight.

 I've come to the realization that by referring to myself as 'reasonablychubby' I'm doomed  to suffer with  perpetual plumpness. Yes, it's a cute name. Adorable if you ask me. ReasonablyChubby...  it rolls off the lips, and makes me want to eat a whole stick of butter.  BUT....  I'm reinforcing an image of rotund roundness in moo-wah's mind.   (I realize 'suffer' is a relative term. If one considers eating cheesecake 'suffering' then so be it. And sometimes I suffer and take midday naps. When I could potentially be outside sweating in 100 degree weather burning additional calories.)

So, you see? If I refer to myself as the self-disciplined, tiny boned woman that I really am, ( *see above picture*  )  I IMMEDIATELY get a craving for broccoli and sparkling water straight  from the tap.  Or, 'agua' as I like to call it.

Yes, that's another benefit.  Thinking of myself as the tall, world traveling, you can't see me when I step behind that stop sign, my gawd her cheeks are sunken that woman must never eat supermodel that I am, I immediately gain the ability to speak fluent Spanish. Taco, burrito, quesadilla, fajita, salsa, cheeps with lots of salt, queso, rice and beans...

Adios amigos!

The New Love Of My Life

I don't know how I forgot to include this in my anniversary pictures...this piece of manna- from- heaven, melt- in- your- mouth, I-can die-now, hallelujah-and-amen piece of  Wonderfulness. It's called Banana Foster's Cheesecake.

 And it was almost the highlight of our trip to New Orleans. I kid you not.  We still  haven't fully emerged from the sugar buzz it created. Mr. Wonderful and I have been staring at each other with glazed eyes and loopy grins for two days now.

 Yeah, yeah, I know. You're thinking, "well that's somehow not surprising coming from a fatty-potatty like yourself."
I hear your jealousy. I understand.
But seriously. I miss it already.

Hey, by the way, did you see I now have 54 FOLLOWERS!!! whoo-hoo! I'm on my way to nekkidness in Rome...I'm going to go scream  into my pillow.

Today Is Our One Year Anniversary!

For our one year anniversary we went to New Orleans...

And stayed in a lovely bed and breakfast! All planned by my very own Mr. Wonderful.

Mr. Wonderful, posing...Wendell needs his smoking jacket and pipe.

Welcome to the parlor... Care for tea dahling?

And here we have the bathing situation. Um, dahling, precious, pumpkin-pie....  where's the shower???

It's been a wonderful year! Happy Anniversary to my sweetie!

No Wonder I Can't Remember Anything

I've been doing this all week. As in, Every Single Day. My brain is now officially fried from the sand,  surf and sun and I'm loving every minute of it.

And here's the ridiculous part. Although I'm wearing a bathing suit EVERY SINGLE DAY I eat what I want, when I want. Because for some reason after being at the beach all day I feel as if I've run a marathon or two.

I literally have tricked myself into thinking I'm exercising. When in reality, I'm  laying there.

 Anytime I get hot and sweaty I think I'm exercising. It makes perfect sense. It's honestly the best exercise program I've ever put myself on. You should try it sometime.

You can thank me later...after you've lost your tan and have to face your white dimpled thighs, twenty pounds heavier in some cruel flourescent-lit dressing room.

 Until then, enjoy!

I was going to tell you something, but I can't remember what it was...

I WAS going to tell you something very important. Life changing...probably. But, I can't remember what it was.

Well, durn, and dang, and shoot, and all those other words I use when I'm slightly irritated.

 I only pull out the big guns when I'm really, really mad. That's how you know I. AM. REALLY MAD. Because you certainly wouldn't be able to tell from my bulging eyes and  throbbing forehead vein.

 Anyway, back to the life changing info. Sorry, I can't remember it. I'm sure it was something FANTASTIC to help you lose weight, win a million bucks, or live the life of your dreams.

Or,  it had to do with used coffee grounds.

Carry on brave soldiers, carry on.

 In the meantime, I'll set up my paypal account and let you know where to send your money...

I think I'll go sit in the little hole under the bridge until I think of it...

I'm Now Available For Speaking Engagements

You think I'm kidding? I am so not kidding. I'm a speaker now...Ahem,...(clearing of the throat. I do that alot ever since the 'cream cheese' contest. I don't know if I'll ever be the same.)

 Grand and Glorious Topics of Inspiration:

1. How to survive your divorce and come out stronger, SEXIER, and happier than you ever thought possible!

Gosh, that's an ugly picture...But  it does inspire.  Dear Lord, if she can do it, so can I!

I mean, if that ain't sexy, I don't what is.

2. How to meet the man of your dreams. In three easy payments.

Need I say more?

3. Dare is always somepin' to be DANKFUL for, you gots to open yo' eyes chile!
 Alligator-On-A-Stick  brings out the preacher in me.

And last, but not the very last

4. You are full of potential!
Look at this small acorn. You would never know just by looking at it all the beauty it contains.  Have some faith, and trust God with every area your life...

5. Because Great Things Come From Little Things.

I have spoken. It is so.

Public speaking isn't scary at all. I just did it, and it was no problemo.

I bet learning Portugese isn't that hard either...

Shocking! I know...

Well folks, I didn't win the Paula Deen cream cheese recipe contest. SHOCKING!!... I  know. Even with that last big bite in honor of the grand dame herself it wasn't enough. Oh well, I don't regret it. Not the 'big bite', or the weeks of cream cheese indulgence because it was superduperdupity FUN! I've come to the conclusion that I will need to video all cooking endeavors henceforth. It's the only way I feel like cooking...Can you imagine how thrilled Mr. Wonderful is about this new revelation of mine? He's my professional cameraman. Now, he's got  purpose and an opportunity to actually have a hot supper. All after a hard day's work.

By the way, here's another SHOCKING!! fact. I didn't win the lotto powerball of  $210 million...

AND, I'm not a professional photographer. I know. THAT news probably just caused you to spew your coffee out of your mouth and ruin the white blouse you had so carefully ironed.

P.S. I love you my faithful readers...shocking! I know...because normally I hate people...not really...only if you get on my nerves and are stupid and dumb...but you aren't like that...wanna share my block of cream cheese?

Mothers, Ducks and Other Very Scary Objects

You all know by now that I live in Paradise. Not only have I told you, I've shown you picture after picture. I've bragged incessantly and consistently for months...And here I go again.

Look below...did I just hear a faint gasp of delight escape from your lips?

I thought so.

The picture above is a pond at the local park, a few blocks from my house. (That's the bragging part, because really, does it matter that it's a few blocks from me? Why yes,  yes it does. Thankyou for asking)

But what this is REALLY about is fear...See this man,who happens to be my father? And that woman, with a look on her face that says, "Here we go again...", she's my mother.

And she's about to torment my father. He's afraid of birds. Terribly, deathly, thumb-sucking, mind boggling , rocking in the fetal position afraid...

So, she takes him straight to the duck pond.

Honey, look! It's just a wittle pwecious baby duckling...Isn't he cute?

Here come Mother and Father! How sweet! A duck family!

Now, Honey, don't be afraid. It's just the aunts and uncles and cousin who've come over to say "hi".

And then, she gets within inches of the wild-peck-your-eyes-out-at-any-moment duck family.

 It's these kinds of things that cause people to crack up. Or use crack.

Later, we all relaxed with a little bit of crack,  candy and recovered from the trauma.

She'll probably want to brush an alligator's teeth next time they visit.

Cream and Blueberry Trifle

Dahlings! Here is my final CREAM CHEESE video.
Wish me luck, won't you? If you won't or you don't, just lie and tell me you will...

Oh, The Struggle Of It All

Graduation...Rap.

Yo, my little boy has grown

I wish I woulda known

He's gonna be so tall

It makes me wanna bawl.

Yo, he's smart and he's nice

His hair ain't got no lice

He ain't skinny like me

He's as big as a tree

I love him, yo

Yes, this weekend started with a graduation and ended with a parade. In between there were two graduation parties, dinner and a movie with girlfriends, a Georgia bulldog softball game, going to church with my girls, walking in the park, and cleaning a disgusting rental house, from which I am still scarred. I had fun, but I'm simply worn out from the "work" involved. The work I'm referring to? Why, serious picture taking of course.  No easy task when you're dealing with CERTAIN PEOPLE, whose names I will tell you if you ask me. No, really, I will. I want to. I insist.

The proud father and son.

 Exciting, and sentimental...I attempted to capture on camera the happy faces of those who know and love this boy.

 The struggle begins... this father/son  "photo" took no less than three attempts.

However, this photo, Granny and Kyle, took ONE try.

Sheer perfection.

And this photo.

Aunt Kay and cousin Stephen...easy. I took three photos, all of equal and excellent quality.

Hmmmm...

Later that same weekend...

The motley crew arrives for the Parade.

 I decided to document for posterity the love, the joy, the good times and happy faces.

One...

The sun is in my eyes he whines as she snaps the photo anyway.

Two...

He lashes out.

Three...

I could just give up...Never!

Finally. With heads forcefully pressed together we have success.

Note to self: Mr. Wonderful needs to feel like a siamese twin to take a good picture. Knowing this could have saved me alot of time and effort this weekend.

More forceful head pressing...

Note to self: Don't ever do that again. Does not produce desired photo.

One...

Guess who's taking the picture?

Two...

Hey, wait! Tell us when...

VICTORY!!

Lots of  'gritted teeth talking'  going on...Use your imagination...

                                                  Look at this adorable old fashioned firetruck.
                                                   It didn't give me any trouble.
                                                  Hope you all had a great weekend!