Do the Dew

Who else sees the problem in this photo? Here I am, growing my organic garden, raising chickens, getting solar, and what do I have sitting on my counter beside freshly picked green beans....A Mountain Dew. What can I say? A girls gotta dew what a girls gotta dew.

Biding Adieu to 1502

Let's step back in time.

The year: 1986

The hair: Crimped and permed to perfection.

The outfits: Jams, and custom painted Paula Kunkle specials. (Only Breck folks can appreciate this)

The Place: 1502 Sycamore

In the summer of 1986, my parents and I moved into our new home. A home designed my by dad, and decorated by my mom. A house that would be filled with more laughs than fights. A beautiful Old Chicago brick masterpiece that I called home for the next 15 years. A few weeks ago, my second mother Connie and I ventured in to the town to say our last goodbyes. As most of you know, Kit and Pop are heading East to Big D. They claim it's to be closer to their grand kids, but I think we all know the real reason........CHOCTAW!!!!!!!

The following is a tale of two "sistas" (Connie and me), and our trip out West to bid adieu to 1502.....

Friday, May 21, 2010

After a long morning of Buddy Fun Day at the boys school, I kissed the monkeys goodbye, and sent them with my friend A and went home to pack. By pack, I mean throw in some deo and contact solution, because I'll more than likely 'borrow' moms clothes, and let's face it, I had to leave room in my bag for items I would be stealing from the house. Smart girl. Always thinking.

Sometime between my third and forth Red bull, Connie and Al show up. I believe this is around 3pm. Connie gets out of the car...limping. Al is rolling his eyes. Apparently, she has injured her leg running. Hey, kudos to her...almost 60 and running like the wind. I love it. It only takes Connie about 20 minutes to make it the two feet in the door, but soon enough we are packed up and ready to hit the road. Al looks at us with this "I'm so damn glad not to be going" look and peels out of the drive. Connie and I hit the road.

Now, Connie and I have not been alone, much less for a three hour road trip since I was 15. Connie came to Breck and picked me up to have a 'girls' weekend...and my parents were coming later in the week. I'm pretty sure they were desperate to get my smart ass out of the house for a few days, and send me with Connie thinking she could talk some sense into me concerning make-up choices and clothes. What? Short skirts and thigh highs with heavy black liquid eye liner isn't a good choice? I thought so. I don't remember much from that trip, but I do remember going to Connie's office. I met the hottest boss alive...Steve. I spent the day roaming around KPMG and looking slutty. I'm sure Connie was proud. Later that week, my parents came to Dallas...only to find the same smart ass teenager with the same black eye liner they had sent away. Productive trip. So, fast forward 15 years later...here we are, pulling out of Dallas..this time with much less eye liner.

The trip was pretty uneventful. We laughed so hard the entire way, I thought I was going to swerve off the road. We made to Breckenridge about 6:30...which is an hour past my parents dinner time:)

We pull up to the house to see Sid's ass in the air pulling weeds. And by pulling weeds, I mean the four weeds they have in the perfect flower beds! After a kiss to dad, I quickly run and grab the gin. I was thirsty from my trip. Plus, the shakes were starting....juuuuuuust kidding. Mom walks in. We all grab our cocktails and retreat to the porch.

The porch. Their isn't a problem that can't be solved on that porch with a G&T and a smoke. I love that porch. I'll miss that porch.

After dinner...and a few more drinks, mom takes Connie and I out to the garage where she's keeping all the stuff for her BYOB (Bring Your Own Box) party. We get first dibs....or so I thought. Let's just say that everything I picked up, was followed by Sid saying "Now do you really need that?" and "What are you going to do with 25 banana split bowls?" Well, DAD, I don't know, but I want them! I'm an only child and dammit I want them:) It was a pleasant night that ending with me passing out on the sofa covered in 10 quilts because the house felt like a meat locker.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

After sleeping off my gin, I throw on my running clothes and hit the pavement. I make it about 4 miles before my shoes start to fill up with gravel from the "streets". I use the term 'street' lightly. I get back to the house to find Connie under my 10 blankets and mom and dad smoking by the fireplace. I love how they think the smell goes up the chimney. Classy.

Saturday was unproductive, but in a good way. Dad took Gran Fran to Abilene, while mom, Connie and I did a whole lotta nothing, and Bonnie came over. The four of us then proceeded to do a whole lotta nothing...except sip Bonnie's AWESOME mojitos. Mmmmm. Dad came home with a headache, and the girls headed to Ernies for dinner. After getting my last Ernies queso fix for a while, we hit the streets of Breck for some sight seeing. With Bonnie at the wheel, we made our way around and laughing our butts off most of the way. Sometime around 11pm, we called it a night. I went inside...had a night cap and bath, took a sleeping pill and hit the sofa.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Sometime, around 10am, I awake to see dad in pj pants stomping through the house like a bull, and mom offering me coffee.

Ambien plus Gin = not being able to hear anything before 10am.

Connie is still sleeping. Sweet, I'm not the only lush. I look up and see THE LOOK on dad's face. Ohhhh shit, he's mad. He's got that " Hey lazy ass, I'm giving you around 30K worth of furniture and stuff and you can't get your lazy ass off the couch and help me pack?" I pull the covers over my head. Maybe if I pretend I didn't see him, he won't know I'm here. I pull back the covers. He sees me. Shit. I roll off the sofa, grab my coffee and make my way to the garage. Whoa, dad must have been up since 5am. Everything is packed and ready to go. Hey, this worked out pretty good. I didn't have to do a thing. I heart ambien.

With dad rushing around like a maniac yelling "Cathy! Cathy!"....Connie emerges from the bedroom. She looks at me with that " Oh shit, Sid is mad look" and precedes to grab a quilt and join me back on the sofa. The two divas (Connie and me) sat on the sofa while Sid did all the heavy lifting. Isn't he the best? Now that I'm thinking about it, I bet all that packing was just to get us out of there.

It's kinda like when the boys were little and we would come for the weekend. Around 8am on Sunday morning, mom would start saying, "well, you better get on the road, I think the weather may get bad and you don't want to drive in the dark." At the time, we lived 30 miles away. I don't think driving in the dark if leaving at 8am was an option. I think they wanted us up and out! So, Connie and I packed up the car so tight, all we were missing was Granny in her rocker and we pulled out of town....stopping for gas, red bull, and a fillet of fish.

It was a great trip. One I'll remember forever. I feel blessed and lucky to have been raised in that house and that town by those parents. It's going to be weird having someone else live in that house. The house that I sold lemonade out front with Sarah, Vince, Pamela and Bo. The house were prom dates picked me up. The home were my mother cooked dinner every night, and my dad taught me to park a stick shift on a slant in the back drive. The house were I had a pink bedroom and posters of the Stetson Man. The house were I stole vodka from my parents bar and replaced it with water. The house with the most wonderful Christmas' and birthdays anyone could want. The house where I sat at the kitchen bar crying doing math...or laughing at dad nearly burning down the house with a science project. Laying by the pool...listening to the radio. The house were my dad walked in the door each night at 6 after driving 30 miles to and from work to give my mom and me....that house.

Tears.

Ok, enough sad. Kit and Pop are moving to Big D and it will be great!

Here are some pics from the weekend. Enjoy!
xxoo
The Fowl Housewife


Sycamore Street


Camp Mystic key chain in the backdoor.


My old room. Minus the posters on the wall, the the smell of Bud Ice light seeping from my pores.


And last but not least, The King in all his glory. Pj pants and a Basic Light. Who can argue with that.

Moving on Up...

The chickens have moved out of the garage and into the coop (thanks to some dad/son teamwork on Saturday morning). I have to say, things were getting a little crazy in the brooder. With limited space and growing bigger everyday, the ladies were NOT happy. Feathers were being thrown, eyes pecked at, trash chirping, pooping on the water can....good times.

But all is well now. They are all hen'd up and loving every minute. I'm already thinking of getting another coop and setting up a Koresh style compound. So normal.


The guard Cock.


Chillin' in the digs.


Plotting revenge on Greta for barking at them.


Nesting box


Where the magic happens.


Dallas. Chicken Coop. Normal.

The Best Bolognese

This sauce has become my boys favorite. They start circling the kitchen when the garlic hits the pan and don't leave me alone until they are stuffing their faces. It's crazy easy and once you've made this, you WON'T go back to Prego. So throw on your apron and open a bottle of red....after all, nothing says 'safe' like alcohol and sharp knives!

Enjoy!

Amazing Bolognese

1/4 cup olive oil

1 medium onion, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 celery stalk, minced

2 carrots, peeled and minced

1 lb. ground beef....but I used bison tonight and it was gooooood!

28 oz. can crushed tomatoes

1/4 cup flat leaf Italian parsley, chopped

10 fresh basil leaves, chopped

salt/pepper to taste

1/2 cup of grated Pecorino Romano cheese

Heat the oil over a medium flame. When you can smell the oil, throw in the onion and garlic. Saute. Add celery and carrots. Saute some more. (My directions are so clear aren't they) Pump up the heat and add the beef. Saute until meat isn't pink and you aren't going to poison anyone.

Add tomatoes, herbs, salt and pepper. Cook over low heat, simmering, for about 30 minutes. Just before serving, stir in the cheese. Feel free to pile on even more cheese when dishing it up.

Serve over 1 pound of your favorite pasta.

IMPORTANT NOTE: When boiling your pasta, reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water to thin the sauce if it's too thick for your liking. I never pour out all my pasta water for this reason:)

xxoo
The Fowl Housewife

Duggarlicious!

I love Anthropologie. It pretty much consumes my closet. With summer approaching, I of course needed a few dresses. Need not want. I should clarify that. After all, I can't run around nude can I?

I was just about to step into the dressing room yesterday when I stopped in my tracks to see this dress. (see above)

Did I miss something, or is Anthropologie now designing for the Duggars?

I mean, where on earth would you wear this? Wait, wait, I know. This is the perfect outfit for the Little House on the Prairie convention I was going to attend. And, I'll get even more mileage out of this when I start my own Big Love compound in Utah. Now, if I can just get that Mormon hairstyle down.......

So, if any buyers from Anthro are reading this...and I know you must be:)...PLEASE make this the last Warren Jeff's approved dress you stock. It scared me.

Are the lambs still screaming?

The boys are home sick today. Lucky me.

About an hour ago I was cleaning Curry's shelf, and I look over to find the biggest flippin' moth/bat/mouse/spider I've ever seen. I screamed like a little school girl and wet my pants.

After changing my pants, I grabbed my camera. I downloaded the photos and hit google. I actually googled "Type of mouse/moth/spider". It took me a while, but I found it.

The following pics are of a Silk Moth.


Largest Moth in America. Scariest Moth on Graystone Drive.


The stuff nightmares are made of.

Now, I think I'll have some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

Chicken Fried Goodness

My oven has been out of commission since April 2. This was ohhh so convenient trying to cook Easter lunch. My friend T graciously let me borrow her oven to bake and braise our delicious feast.

That being said, without an oven, I'm being forced to cook a la skillet style. I could be making stir fry...pasta primavera...and other healthy cuisines...but NOOOO, not this Fowl Housewife...I'm cooking up chicken fried steak ya'll!




Prepping in pie plates...just like mom.


3 lbs. of cube steak. Period.


Heatin' up the grease.


Lawrys. It's a good thing.


Apron. Get one. Use one. Love one.


Mmmm. I can smell the calories!


Not bad if I do say so myself.


Gravy. Salty perfection.


The way to my boys heart.

Beauty in red.

It's been a long, cold, wet winter. But Spring has arrived...and it's showing it's beauty in this Japanese Maple. I mean, could it be prettier? It makes me smile...but I'm pretty simple like that.

Sustainable Living!

Strawberries

Cilantro

Composter

Onion

Snap Peas

Beets that Dwight Schrute would be proud of.


Soy beans

Squash

I can't believe how fast the garden is growing! It won't be long until we will be having the squash de jour!

Losing that fluff!

Daffodil getting her graze on.


Curious Face. Smart eyes.


Check out my feathers!

With the girls still living in the brood, each day they have to be let out to range. This was much easier when they were only a week old....timid, slower, sweeter. Now they are a little bigger and a little faster....make that A LOT faster. I bet you didn't know that a chicken can run up to 9mph. Seriously. It took me 20 minutes to catch them. I'm ready for them to move out of my garage and into the coop. Only two more weeks.......

High on Life?

Most days, I catch myself watching the boys and wondering where time has gone. I remember holding them close, changing diapers and spending endless hours playing with the little people school bus.

That has vanished.

Curry is sniffing markers.

What the hell happened?

The boys elementary school had a book fair last week. Carstens stocked up on the latest Diary of a Wimpy Kid, while Curry spent his time purchasing Rock Band posters and scented markers. Nice.

Curry is already NOT my morning kid. He HATES getting up and lays in bed as long as humanly possible. The other morning was no exception. I kept hollering at him to get dressed. He would yell back "5 more minutes!" While I was cooking breakfast, I peeked around the corner to see if his clothes has moved off the floor and onto his body. They had not. I walked in to find him in bed....undressed...sniffing markers.

He will either cure cancer, or be in Huntsville doing life without parole. No in between for this one.

How do I explain to his teacher why we are running late? I'm sorry Ms. Langin, Curry couldn't make it on time today. He was high on Very Vanilla.

God Help me.

Barefoot and Beautiful?

If you've read any of my earlier posts, then you'll know I 'run' marathons. Ok, ok, HALF Marathons. That being said, I have runners knee...and it HURTS! So, what's a gal to do? Run barefoot of course...kind of.

Yes, Barefoot.

If you followed the NY Marathon this past year, the Today Show featured a runner who actually ran completely barefoot. Gross. Can you say H.E.B. feet? There has to be a better way than sans shoes. Answer: Vibrum Five Fingers. aka...creepy monkey toe shoes. Yea baby!

So what is runners knee, and how can monkey shoes help?

Basically, runners knee is when the femur is putting pressure on the patella due to 'heel strike'. It can sometimes be helped from strengthening the quads, but in most cases you have to decrease mileage and sometime stop running all together. It feels like someone is stabbing your kneecap with an icepick. Nice.

Why barefoot?

When you run in socks, shoes, mid soles and out soles, your body's proprioceptive system loses a lot of input. This has been called 'the perceptual illusion' of running shoes. With shoes, your body switches and your reaction time decreases. For heel strikers like me, it's similar to to running in 4 inch pumps. Natural instinct will kick in. The body is pretty amazing that way. You really don't need those cushy shoes at all. The only purpose of the monkey shoes, is to keep you from getting black nasty street feet or cutting your feet on rocks, glass, ect.

But running barefoot isn't easy. It take some transition time. In fact, I'm having to completely re-train the way I run. You basically run on your toes. And let me tell you, it will be the biggest calf work out you'll ever do.

That being said, I hit the trail 'barefoot' today. I threw on my Vibrum five fingers (see photo above) and knocked out three miles. Not bad. In fact, it felt amazing. I did feel a little silly with my new stride...and definitely received a few stares from onlookers, but NO KNEE PAIN. My calves are a different story. I'm sure in the middle of the night I'll wake up with a killer leg cramp, but that will subside as the muscle builds.

Between chickens, solar, composting, veggie gardens and now running barefoot, I'm becoming quite the granola girl.....and lovin' every minute of it. Off the grid baby. Sustainable lifestyle here I come!

Run on my barefoot peeps. Run on!

For more information on the Vibrum five finger shoes, go check 'em out at:

www.rei.com

R.I.P Underoos

Well, it's official. My eight year old has outgrown his underoos.

Let us have a moment of silence.

I can't believe it. You would have to know my sweet sweet boy, but he came to me saying that his 'friends' make fun of him for having 'stuff' on his underwear, and he just wants plain white Hanes. *sigh* How sad that kids start making fun and teasing so soon. This sweet little boy would still wear the tight fitting pj's from Gap and never think anything of it. He will wear any shirt, any color, and anything that I put on him. He's kind, innocent and amazing.

So I guess I'll hit up Target tomorrow for some regular 'ole Hanes. If you see a dark haired woman in the kids underwear section quietly sobbing, you'll know who it is.

Ode to Newman-O's

It was only a matter of time before I had to blog about food. Most people close to me know that I love me some oreos. I should be in FA (Food Addicts Anonymous) for my problem. Hello, my name is Mary Frances. I am addicted to Oreos. Hi Mary Frances.

That being said, oreos are bad. BAD BAD BAD. Partially Hydrogenated Coconut Oil. Check. Loaded with Sugar. Check. Making my ass larger with each bite. Check.

But.....I've found a loophole. Newman-O's. NO Partially Hydrogenated Oil. Check. Organic. Check. Low on butt fat producing sugar and carbs. Check.

Now, I realize these are not a new thing. In fact, I've been eating them for a few years. But, it wasn't until tonight that I noticed a poem on the back of the bag.

Ode to Newman-O's

You might, m'lady
tweak my nose.
You could, m'lord
step on my toes.
But Heaven help
those poor bozos,
who try to filch
my Newman-O's.

Finally, someone gets it. Touch my food, and you WILL loose a hand. Thank you Paul Newman.

Kit the Klepto

(Kit is my mom)

Setting: We are sitting on the sofa flipping through a Southern Living, when Kit announces:

Kit: "Um, Mary Frances, I just found a spoon in my purse."

Me: "I'm sorry, did you just say a spoon?"

Kit: "Yes, and it's not mine."

(She is now reaching into her purse and taking out a spoon. And not just any spoon. It's one of those collectors spoons.)

Me: "Well, I don't know what's worse, that you found a spoon in your purse, or that it doesn't belong to you."

Kit: "Actually, I didn't just find it. I saw it in my purse when we were at Lovely Nails, and I didn't want to say anything. I was afraid you would make fun of me."

NOTE: (Lovely Nails will be an entirely different story. Needless to say, only in Breckenridge do you have to bring your own file, pumice and clippers to get a pedicure)

Me: "Oh, gosh no mom. I wouldn't dare make fun of you for having a random miniature Indian collectors spoon in your purse......THAT YOU DON'T OWN...AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU GOT IT. I would NEVER make fun of you for that."

Kit: "Shut up."

Me: "Ok, seriously. Where did you get the spoon?"

Kit: "I DON'T KNOW!"

Me: "So let me get this straight. You have a miniature spoon in your purse. You have no idea who it belongs to or where it came from. I can't wait to tell dad!"

(Just about the time I say this, in walks dad.....)

Me: "Dad. Um yea, so mom stole a spoon."

Dad: "WHAT?!?!"

Me: "Yea, check it out. Mom "found" this spoon in her purse when we were getting our nails done. She has no idea where it came from. I think she's turning into a klepto."

(This must be where my youngest son gets it. He's been known to "borrow" stuff)

Kit:' Now wait just a minute. I did NOT steal this spoon. I think maybe someone put in in my purse."

Me: "Oh really...and who might THAT be?"

Kit: "I don't know. Maybe you. Maybe your dad. Maybe Meme."

Me:"Ohhhhh Meme. Right! Why didn't I think of that. My dead great-grandmother. It's all beginning to make sense now. Have you been drinking before noon again?"

Dad: "I've got it! I bet she stole it from the nail place. Maybe that's the spoon they use to scoop the shit they throw in the water."

(The SHIT my dad is referring to is salt scrub)

PAUSE. I'm now sitting here with my parents...who are about to move to Dallas...having a 'discussion' about a stolen/borrowed/missing/dead great-grandmother/nail place SPOON! Living through a week of construction back home isn't looking so bad.

Me: "Ok, forget the spoon. Ya'll are both nuts. I should put you in a home and take all your money. Let's go to Ernie's and eat some queso."

The above photo was taken at Ernie's. The origination of the spoon is still unknown. If you are the owner of a miniature Indian collectors spoon, please call my mother. It's still in her purse!

Home Sweet Home

Yes, that is a mailbox. A giant fish mailbox. I took this pic while mom was giving me the town tour. I couldn't resist snapping a photo. I figured it would give all my Dallas friends a good laugh. I mean, it's not everyday that you see Big Mouth Billy Bass waiting to gulp up your phone bill. Only in Breckenridge.......

Beautiful isn't it....

Free Ranging...in Dallas!

Peeps on the loose!!

While I worked on planting my garden, the chicks got their first taste of backyard heaven. They loved it...minus the gale force winds that kept knocking them on their butts. And, seeing as how a hawk didn't swoop one out of the yard, I think it was a successful first trip out of the brood.

Aqua wishes and Le Creuset Dreams...

If you cook as much as I do, then you KNOW you would sell your baby on the black market in exchange for Le Creuset. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then read carefully....this will be the most important information of your life. Ok, that was a bit dramatic, but when I'm talking about Le Creuset, I tend to black out and get into the zone.

If you don't know...I DREAM in turquoise. Seriously, I'm a woman with a problem. So when Le Creuset came out with this amazing aqua, I had to say: Yes Please!

This cookware will change your life. I recently discovered a Le Creuset outlet. May God be with me.....and my checkbook:)

This is the EASIEST cookware to clean. I'm telling you...I have done some serious braising..not to mention a good 3 hour simmer...and it wipes clean. Everytime. Now, this is not throw-it-in-the-dishwasher stuff. In fact, if you DO toss it in the dishwasher, I will personally come over and shoot you. I've been known to kill for less. Just ask any waiter that tries to take my plate before I'm done. Also, I have never encountered anything that can control heat as well as Le Creuset. That's because it's cast iron. The stuff our grandmothers cooked with. Plus, could it be prettier. It makes me smile.

Before I bore you any longer...and get anymore carried away...I'll leave by saying that I think cooking at home is a lost art. My mother cooked AT LEAST 6 nights a week. She may not have realized it at the time....but she was helping mold me into a better woman...and a better mom. So here's to all the chef moms out there....while they may not famous faces on the Food Network...they are famous to the people that matter most....the little ones standing on their toes, lickin' the mixing bowls.

Houston, we have a swimsuit!

This is an oldie but goodie. Back before I stated blogging, I would periodically send out emails when entertaining stories arose. This is one of the best....enjoy!

Spring 2008

To all those women, who are desperately looking for the perfect swimsuit, I have the answers to all your prayers. Enter.....the greatest swimsuit ever made.

If you don't know by now, I've been on the hunt for a swimsuit for our upcoming trip to Florida. Actually, I don't know HOW you wouldn't know this, because I've complained to every woman I know about how pathetic the suit choices are these days. But, fear no more....I have the suit for you.

Let's start back in January. I begin talking to my friend Andrea about our upcoming trip. Of course, our main obsession is finding a swimsuit. Now, let's get one thing straight. I am NOT trying to look like Giselle. Heck, I'd settle for Marie Osmond....have you SEEN her lately...she's twice my age and HOT! The suit I'm looking for needs to fulfill the following:

1. Hold up "the girls".
Ladies, when you are a 34D, and have had 2 kids, your breasts now resemble crook neck squash. While delicious to eat, this is NOT a good look on the beach. Therefore, an under-wire is a must. You would THINK this would be easy to find (in a one-piece of course), but NOOOOOOOO! All the under-wire suits are bikinis made for teenagers who don't even NEED the under-wire, because their breasts are still perky. It's like watching all those anti-aging ads on TV with Jessica Alba. I mean, what the hell?

2. The rear of the suit must NOT expose the "biscuits".
If you don't know what biscuits are....please, allow me to share. This is the bottom of, well, YOUR BOTTOM. A BIG white bottom, hanging on the lower end of the suit is NOT flattering...or, necessary. Can't these manufacturers quit making one pieces that are an 6 on top and 2 on bottom? People please!

3. It must NOT be a halter.
With 34D boobs, a halter is only good for about 1 hour, then your neck begins to feel like it has a 40 lb. necklace made of two kids hanging from it. This leads to headaches, and a not so happy momma. And if momma ain't happy....well, you get the picture.

4. The design must not resemble an old lady, Hawaiian pattern in the following colors: purple, teal and black.
What is WITH these horrible prints. They think, well, she's buying a one-piece, she must be an ugly, fat, non-married, non-hip, non-stylish person. Let's find the ugliest print we can, and slap it on the fat girl suit. Ohhhhh joy.

So, those are my requirements. I'm not asking for a miracle, just a freaking swimsuit that I can play on the beach, and not have people yelling, "Shamu"!

Now, let's get to the meat of this letter. The suits.

Day 1

I trek off to Northpark to hit Swim-n-Sport and Nordstrom. I'm bound to find a suit here...or so I think.

Swim-n-Sport, entering the store....

Me: "Oh, hi, I'm looking for a one-piece"

Salesgirl (weighing in at 45 lbs): "Ohhhh we have tons"

Me: "Well, I need an under-wire"

Salesgirl: "Ummmm yeah, the only under-wires are in the two-pieces. (Looks me up and down) Sorry, guess you are out of luck.

I say nothing, walk out of the store, and into Corner Bakery for a lemon bar. Any problem in the world can be solved with a lemon bar.

Nordstrom, entering the swim section.....

Their a no sales women to be found. I'm actually glad for this after my last run in. I look through all the suits. All the one pieces are halters. Great, juuuust great. And, the halters are so low in the front, you can almost see what I used to call my bellybutton. I'm leaving. I think I need a lemon bar for the road......

Day 2

I get online to cyberswim.com This site claims to have the suits that "slim 10 lbs in 10 seconds". Perfect! I know I'll have luck.

Suit #1

The suit arrives in the mail. I rush to try it on. My mother is visiting. Jonathan has just arrived home from work. Mom is playing with the boys in their room, while I'm suiting up....or trying too. Jonathan walks in the bedroom just in time to see me wincing in the corner and screaming for someone to help my hoist the suit up. Mom comes around the corner, just as Jonathan has the suit around each hip, trying desperately to get the thing on. She may have wet her pants from laughing so hard. Now I know WHY they call this a miraclesuit. It's a MIRACLE if anyone can get the thing on.

Suit #2

The suit arrives from UPS....again. I'm sure this guy is wondering about me. Oh well. After reading more about the "miracle suit" online, I realized that you must order one size up from your normal size. I do this. I get the suit out of the box. Let's just say that by the time I got the thing on, I resembled a sausage about to be thrown on the fire. Mmmmmmm, this is SUCH a good look.

I'm now DONE with cyberswim. These people are Satan.

Suit #3

Andrea suggests I give Landsend a try. At this point, my choice is the sausage suit, or cut offs and a tank top, so I give it a whirl.

Wow, the website is great. Tons of suits, and UNDER-WIRE. Thank you God for landsend.com.

Suit #4

This suit arrives via UPS. The UPS man and I are now BFF's. I put, hoist, this suit on. NOT GOOD! I look like a fat member of the Olympic Swim Team. Go USA!

AUGHHHHHH!

Suit #5

UPS is here again. This time, I invite him in, we have a cup of coffee and compare pics of our kids. I thinking of having he and his wife over for dinner...since we are on a first name basis now. Suit #5 is an improvement, but doesn't meet requirement #1.....this suit causes my breasts to hang to my bellybutton. I'm hopeless.

Andrea suggests I give it ONE MORE TRY. After all, I don't think SanDestin likes cut-offs and wife beaters.

Enter Suit #6

As Paul, my UPS BFF arrives, I say a quick prayer and I'm off to the bedroom. Houston, we have a winner. This is the greatest suit I've ever owned. If you would like to own this suit, please click on the link below, and have a great day! I love you all!

http://www.landsend.com/pp/SolidSlenderConvertibleSwimDress~176297_593.html?bcc=y&action=order_more&sku_0=::BLA&CM_MERCH=IDX_00006__0000000651&origin=index

Mary Frances :)