We ain't Ain'ts no more

THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL.

Unbelievable. It's a feeling I can hardly describe with words. I will try, however, because otherwise I'm just writing this blog for the perks - which include my Mom telling me how she loved my latest post about tinkle.

Warning: Here is the part where I get all sentimental and cliche'-y.

The Saints are so much more than a football team. They represent our city, our people, our stuggles and our hope. New Orleans has long been underrated, overlooked, beaten up, forgotten, laughed at and shunned. Our accomplishments and bright spots have been recognized only sporadically and spoken of as if they were flukes. Remarkable how the same can be said of the Saints. The parallel is striking.

The Saints have done much more than win the NFC Championship and secure a spot in the 44th Superbowl. They have given our city a voice that is loud and clear. And the world is finally taking serious notice. We are more than just a hard luck city, and team, who can't seem to catch a break. We have talent and spirit and loyalty and personality. We are New Orleans and we are The Who Dat Nation. Take us or leave us. But leaving us is probably a poor choice. We want you to stay and be inspired by everything we love. And we'll totally show you a good time. Promise.

We know a thing or two about hard work and keeping the faith. It's what makes us us. We have shoveled our way up out of a whole lot of mud, and we want everyone to have the same feeling we do now that it's starting to pay off. I gotta say, the win for the Saints feels great, but the win for our city feels phenominal.

Bless you Boys and Bless you NOLA. You've made us all proud.


In that number,
Suzie

Peach or Blueberry

Boss: "Suzie, do they still have cobblers?"

Suzie: "I can probably look up a recipe."

Apparently all he wanted was a shoe repairman...

Fear Ye, Fear Ye

Is it just me, or does this warning seem a tad excessive?

I'd assume the reaction you'd get from telling a child to refrain from playing scuba in the bathtub with a blowdryer BECAUASE HE WILL DIE OF ELECTRIC SHOCK, somewhat resembles the reaction you'd get by telling him not to jump on the bed BECAUSE YOU COULD HIT THE CEILING AND DECAPITATE YOURSELF AND BLOOD WILL BE EVERYWHERE AND YOUR DETATCHED HEAD WILL ROLL UNDERNEATH THE BED AND GET EATEN UP BY THE BOOGIEMAN WHO LIVES UNDER THERE. And also Santa Claus isn't real, just in case you were wondering.

When punctuation matters

A woman, without her man, is nothing.

A woman: without her, man is nothing.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Pet PEEve

This one involves men and women and toilet seats and pee. And it's not what you think it is.

Ladies, listen up. If you complain because he leaves the toilet seat UP, he has every right to complain when you leave it DOWN.

I'm all about equal opportunity peeing.

Mom, if you're reading this, insert the word "tinkle" everywhere I've used the word "pee".

The Austin Chronicles - Part 2

Because I'm such a softie and enjoy spreading the holiday cheer, we hosted a little get-together at my house a few weeks ago to celebrate the upcoming Christmas season. Also, I like a good excuse to use my fancy, company's coming serving dishes and stock up my pantry with all the leftover boxes of Wheat Thins that people leave behind.

We I (with the help of pals) threw together a nice little menu of party-friendly foods. Pulled pork on pistolettes, spinach and artichoke dip, pinwheels, red velvet cupcakes, amaretto chocolate chip cookies, (thanks Me!), chicken wings (thanks, Lisa!), marinated cheese (thanks, Amelia!), jalapeno dip and Zea's Mediterranean hummus (thanks, Frances!), and an assortment of yummy desserts (thanks, Cassie!).

Back to the pinwheels. They're actually called Nancy's Deli Spirals, and I don't know about you, but I think that Nancy is one whiz at deli-spiral-making. I'm pretty sure pinwheels got their nickname and popularity as a go-to hors d'oeuvre from my friend Linda (hi Linda!) because all you have to do is take them out of the freezer and defrost them for 30 minutes. No cooking involved. Which means Linda is all over it like white on rice.

Sidenote: There was a small glitch in acquiring the much-loved pinwheels this year. They're usually available in a 60-count box at Sam's Club for $9.98. Both Sam's Clubs in the area were out of stock. Being the stealthy shopper that I am, I found them for sale at Winn Dixie, only in a much smaller 32-count box that still sold for $9.98. Winn Dixie is always a ripoff, but I figured it was a small price to pay for the happiness of my guests.

Again, pinwheels. I arranged them on a pretty fleur de lis plate on my counter. I crammed the empty box into our already-full garbage can, then stepped outside for about 20 seconds to take out the trash. I walked back inside the kitchen door and immediately saw the empty plate. With one rogue pinwheel dangling off the edge. And Austin looking up at me with his crooked head and wide eyes and wagging tail. Waiting for my reaction. To the fact that he just ate NINE DOLLARS WORTH OF OVERPRICED PINWHEELS.

Now, before you get all "Suzie is such a miser for whining about a few bucks worth of appetizers," consider this: My most vivid memory of childhood is Sunday lunch at my Granny's house. Which we had to wait for until my dad finished clipping coupons from the glossy newspaper inserts. And also the fact that my mother has never purchased a single article of clothing that wasn't on sale. Even if the pants are only 99 cents at full price. She physically cannot bring herself to purchase them unless there is a sale sticker on the tag. You see how deep the roots of my frugality are embedded.

Once more, pinwheels. What else can you do when your dog's nose is countertop height and when he's in the vicinity of food he has the self control of one of those people who eat 33,000 calories a day and spend 12 years of their life confined to bed until they have to be lifted off by a forklift and extracted from their bedroom with the aid of a hacksaw and the jaws of life?

Do you hope he made himself sick inhaling all those pinwheels in one fell swoop then regrets his actions when he's puking them up later? Do you make him get a job cutting the neighbor's grass one weekend so he can pay for the box of pinwheels? Do you take away his cell phone and ground him til he's 20? Or do you just laugh?

Survey says: Laugh.

Then make him send handwritten apology letters to your friends for being such a bad dog. BAD, BAD DOG.