Are we dead yet? Were the Mayans correct?

Were the Mayans correct with their end of the world calendar or did this merely happen?

If you are reading this, then we are not dead and we should celebrate our non-deadness.
However, I did wonder if there was something to the Mayan predictions when this rolled into town.

 

The dark sky caused quite a bit of concern. Several neighbor’s were out scanning the change in weather.

 

Of course, I was the only one with a camera feeling like a weirdo.

 

It was oddly and uncomfortably quiet. No dogs barking. No birds cheeping.

 

After turning on the weather channel, I went back to cooking. I figured if we are about to die, we should do it with a full belly. I suppose the world has to come to a close sometime and you don’t want to enter heaven starving and scanning for the nearest buffet, do you?

I got a new ‘do.

It may not be a big deal to you, but I’ve been needing a hair cut, a hair taming and an overall hair management course. Just look at this mess.

I was more embarrassed about the visible frizzies than the ridiculous length of my hair. I even asked for your help from all of you, receiving several great ideas to aid in my hair battle.
 

But just taming the frizzy mane wasn’t all that I needed. I had zoomed past the “sexy stage” and into more of the “gross-cut-your-hair” stage.

 

I was more than excited-I would dare say “totally stoked”-when I finally made an appointment to have my mane tamed. As I walked into the salon, my hair was being judged by all the stylists. I just know it. They were murmuring, “Geez, use some hairspray or something. That thing is poking people’s eyes out.”
My good friend and stylist cuts hair at the Aveda salon in the posh part of town. She slathered me up with Aveda products, washed and cut my hair, and even massaged my hands.
The final look of my new haircut may not be radically different in your eyes, but it made me feel like a princess as I walked out of the salon, gathering approving nods and glances from aforementioned stylists.

Sweet ‘n Salty-Neighbor Presents

Pretzel rods will please even the pickiest pallet-or the neighbor you don’t know very well-but would like to. I know this idea isn’t new and you’ve probably either made, consumed or purchased pretzels rod sometime in your life.

They look so pretty all lined up and ready to be eaten.
For this decadent looking but simple to make treat is:
white and chocolate almond bark
a hammer
wax paper
peppermint candies
pretzel rods.

 

I wanted each household/neighbor to have 8 pretzel rods each. That meant that I needed 88 rods total. I picked out all the full rods from my bag, setting aside the broken nubs to be consumed by yours truly.

 

Next, I hammered all of the peppermints while they were inside of a thick waxed bag (cereal bag or something similar works great).

 

By microwaving the almond bark in a tall glass, the pretzel rods were easy to cover in chocolate, leaving about 2 inches at the bottom for a finger hold.

 

While the chocolate was still warm, I rolled half of my rods in the crushed peppermint.

The other half I drizzled with alternating types of chocolate.
Yum.

 

The leftover chocolate was used on my reject pretzel nubs, or eaten with a spoon by a certain Biceps and the mother of a certain Biceps.
So simple, so pretty and oh, so good.
Merry Christmas neighbor’s!

Small Town Parade

I grew up in a small town in Kansas. A traffic jam might occur after our hometown football team–the Kansas State Wildcats–would win against Nebraska-causing the agricultural students to pull out their tractors and zoom 5 m.p.h. down our main drag.

 

Graphic courtesy of: albumelossless.wordpress.com
The only signs I witnessed of the “big-town” mentality was a coffee shop (that flopped) and the outrage over Metallica coming to play at our stadium-only to be greeted by a bunch of picketing conservatives.

 

Now that I live in the booming metropolis of Tulsa (which is really still considered a mid-sized town), I miss my hometown roots. I miss knowing the old men hanging out at the donut shop, the guy bagging our groceries and the names of everyone in my church.
I miss the small town parades full of “Sunflower Queens”, insurance company-sponsored floats, tractors, horse poop and candy.
So, I was elated when Biceps’ fire department participated in their district’s hometown parade just outside of Tulsa.

 

I grabbed my cute mother-in-law, made some coffee and headed out in hopes of witnessing combines (pronounced kom-bines) going down the road, noisy high school bands and scary clowns.

 

It became immediately clear that I would not be disappointed.

 

Of course, the Shriner’s were there. It’s not a real small town parade without them.

 

I don’t understand what exactly the “Shriner’s” are or even what they do-but I like seeing their very weird cars and eating the candy they throw at me.

 

The horses are typically put at the end of a parade-due to what comes out of their back end. However, these furry dudes were smack dab in the center of the parade.

 

Right before the fire department made their grand entrance. The boys had to dodge heaps of you-know-what.

 

This guy here is a good friend and belongs to the same fire department as Biceps.
He’s one of the sweetest men you’ll ever meet and lucky for him-he’s married to one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met in a long time. And yes, this is his really cute Dalmatian.
Too perfect.
The fire department was one of the highlights of the parade-at least for me and my mother-in-law.

 

We were so proud of this guy that’s throwing candy. At me and his mother.
He is so naughty. But you already knew that.

 

Boy, does he think he’s funny.
With my need for the small town parade satisfied, mother-in-law and I loaded up our candy booty and headed off to pick up the naughty boy, while dodging the horse poop left on the street.
Ah, I love the small town parade. It will tide me over until I can go “home” sometime soon.