Better

It's better to Love and be Loved,

Than to be Bitter and Lonely.

Just sayin'

Comfort

And the town really DOES live up to it's name.  Comfort Texas is one of the many quaint, sleepy, yet affluent oil-sodden towns in the Hill Country region of Texas. 

Mickey and I were invited to stay at the Ranch of some friends.  The ranch house is located at the end of about a half mile of upward-winding dirt road; it sits on the top of a rock cliff, with a breath-taking view.  Made of indigenous stone and heavy wooden beams, the home's beauty is ostensibly masked to not detract from the scenery.

And there is no noise, save for our own breathing and those of loud birds that sound like cats.  We could all scream and not a soul would hear us.  In fact, we played our music very loudly while drinking delicious red wine from Italy.

And then the Storm rolled in.  The wind first howled and we could see the sky growing dark, with lighting that painted horizontal streaks across the horizon, turning green and purple and sometimes red.

And then those same winds blew the water towards us and we could no longer withstand watching from the back porch and were forced inside.

The next morning the rocky ground was dry, as if there hadn't just been a storm.  The Desert had drank all of the water.

We had bought fillet mignon, asparagus, risotto and the makings for S'mores.  And we cooked and ate a meal to rival any restaurant.

We were sad to have to leave.  And Mickey and I decided that this is where we want to end up living some day.

There is no Corn in Gumbo

I'm Passionate about cooking.  And a lot of times, I invent dishes.  In fact, I almost never use a cookbook or even recipes.

But there are certain dishes that have been so perfected throughout the years, that their ingredients should not be altered.  Take macaroni and cheese, for instance.  You can use different types of macaroni and all types of cheese.  But if you mix potatoes and tofu together, you don't get to call it macaroni & cheese (and I would call that "disgusting".  But that's besides the point). 

Some things are okay to alter.  For instance, I once had tamales stuffed with refried beans and cream cheese.  They were FANTASTIC tamales.  And yet, they were still tamales.

I think that traditional foods are more prone to fall into a gray area when it's something that's cooked together all in one pot.  Sometimes people have a tendency to clean out their vegetable crisper.  And in those cases, those dishes all become "vegetable soup".    For example, here's a little soup org chart. 

Tomatoes, garlic, and basil = Tomato Basil Soup
Tomatoes, garlic, basil, celery and bell peppers = Vichyssoise
Tomatoes, garlic, basil, celery, bell peppers and Potatoes = Vegetable Soup

Which brings me to the source of this angst-ridden post.  Last weekend my darling husband and I went to the grocery store together to gather items for the week, and also to make Seafood Gumbo.  Now, I'm not bragging (here's the brag), but I really make one of the best gumbos in the world.  My mother taught me when I was little and I've improved upon it to perfection.  So when my darling husband reached for a bag of frozen corn, it was all I could do to hide my angst.  And according to him, I didn't do a good job at all of hiding it.  In fact, he was a little traumatized by the look I gave him.

But he admits the Gumbo is "Bad Ass".

I love to cook with wine. Sometimes I add it to the food. 

Insomnia

Lately I've been waking up at ridiculously early hours of the morning, and not going back to sleep.  This morning it happened to be a 1:00 a.m. phone call that woke me.  And so here I lay, typing.

And I know what will happen.  I'm going to crash hard this afternoon.  I'm going to get the tell-tale ringing in my ears.  And will be forced to take a nap.  And then tonight, I won't be sleepy.  And the cycle will repeat itself.

Ugh.

Bikini Naval Gazing

In June I will be 44 years old.  And while I have NEVER really worried about my age and aging, I am very cognizant of the fact that I will be a 44 year old in a bikini.  And I don't want anyone ever to lean over to their buddy and whisper, "Look at that OLD chick in a teeny weeny bikini."  For that reason, I am GOING to lose these extra five pounds that are, for reasons unknown to me, clinging to my hips and ass like barnacles on a shrimp boat. 

And as if I needed more motivation than AGE, we have booked tickets to a 7-Day Caribbean Cruise and are taking the kids in July.  Lots of fun in the sun and photographs.  Joy.

The new swimsuit arrived in the mail today.  It's just darling.  And yes, it's teeny weeny.  So needless to say, I have lots of cardio in store in my very near future.  And salad.

Oh, and I almost forgot to mention - I'm getting a freakin' AWESOME tattoo for my birthday. 

Swimsuit Season -- Again

Today I followed a link sent to me via e-mail, for a swimsuit CLEARANCE.  What the hell?  It's not even officially summer yet.  Was I supposed to have been swimming already?

And even more important, is my body supposed to be swimsuit-ready, already?  I mean, besides being downright pastey in hue, I have a few pounds to lose, a couple thousand crunches to do, and (apparently) a new swimsuit to purchase.

Nevermind that the swimsuit from last year is in great shape and fits (as does the one from 2 years prior).  I must have a new suit.  Lest, everyone on the beach will snicker and point and I, although mildly famous among my small group of friends, will end up on the Worst Dressed in People Magazine.  Or even worse, in one of those zoomed in cellulite-focused shots of my ass (only) with the caption, "Look who gained 5 pounds over the holidays."

And while I sit here on my jiggly ass, typing.  I feel a little twinge of guilt for not being on the treadmill, instead.  Or at a minimum, squeezing my glutes (and there, I just did it).

So until summer officially arrives (which, in case you do not follow the Farmers Almanac, is June 20), I will continually squeeze my glutes.  And I will no doubt succumb to the pressures of purchasing yet another new swimsuit.  I'm thinking aqua halter top with low rise bottom.

Time for Gardening

I hate the COLD weather.  I can't believe how freaking COLD it was here in Magnolia, this past Winter.  I'm tired of having cold feet and hands.  And about half of my tropical plants died.  It's hard to get farther South.  I need to live where there is no Winter.
But it's starting to warm up again.  The grass is turning green and the trees are showing buds (if not leaves).  I've turned the sprinklers back on.  It's time to be GREEN again.

And all this new greenery inspired me to assemble that outdoor fountain that I bought last Fall on sale.

It took me 2 hours.  But I got it up.   And I think it looks really cool.  And it WORKS.  Yay!

I planted two yucca plants on either side to (hopefully) deter Gunny and Lola from running into and over the fountain.  So far, they're using it as a Drinking Fountain.  I didn't realize when I bought it that it really DOES look like a drinking fountain.