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Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Watermelon, Feta Cheese and Arugula Salad!



This is one of my favorite salads. It is so easy to make and perfect for summer. Since summer is coming to an end, I am hoping I can make this a few more times. If you love watermelon it is a great way to use it.  I promise you will love it. 



You need watermelon, feta cheese, arugula leaves, lemon, honey, salt and pepper. 



Dice up the watermelon.



Squeeze a lemon into a bowl. 



Add about a tablespoon of honey. 



Add salt and pepper. 



Add the watermelon and mix well. 



Add the feta cheese and mix. 



Toss the arugula with the watermelon mixture. The watermelon will be juicy and act like a dressing. 



That's it. It is easy and fresh. It is perfect with any food especially steak or burgers. You will be surprised how well pepper and salt go with watermelon. The feta cheese is tangy. The arugula is peppery. It is so delicious. Try it!!

Buen Provecho! 


Thursday, August 28, 2014

Never the Bride, always the Flower Girl #TBT

While looking through old photos, I came across a lot of pictures of us being flower girls. It made me remember that when we were little everyone wanted me and my sister as flower girls in their wedding.

By the age of 7, I was a professional flower girl. I can't even imagine how many weddings we were in. We were super duper cute when we were little but I think it also had to do that my mom would always make kick ass dresses as well. So if you had us in your wedding, you always got professional flower girls who looked amazing.



I don't remember too much except that we always wore dresses that you would never ever wear again in your life. Those dresses were passed down through the years as well. I always remember that the night before the wedding, my mom would slather our hair with Dippity Doo and twist it with pieces of fabric. We would sleep like this so the next day our hair would be super curly. We always had the best hair.

I am not sure of the first time I was a flower girl. There were so many weddings. I do remember that sometimes it was just me and my sister. Other times, we had someone else join us. It was usually a family member of the bride or groom. We were never related to the bride or groom. That is how popular we were. We were in demand.



When we had other flower girls, it was hard. These girls had no clue how to be a flower girl. They were fidgety and undisciplined. We, on the other hand, had the routine down pat. You showed up on time, didn't complain and walked down that aisle like a boss. There was no time for shenanigans because you were the first ones down the aisle and had to set the tone.

The ring bearers were always a horror because, for some reason, they always found the littlest boys around. There was no wrangling them. They would do whatever they wanted. They would drag the pillow with the rings. They would lose the rings. They would run up the aisle. They would talk to people. And then they would fidget throughout the whole service. Since there was only one ring bearer, I didn't worry my pretty head over him. He would be judged and never asked to do it again.


Now, we tried to discipline the other flower girls but they were never up to our level. I don't want to brag, but I will. We were always perfect. Well, my sister sometimes would not be perfect but I always was. I knew how to walk down the aisle. If the bride required us to throw down petals, I did not toss them willy-nilly. There was a trick to tossing rose petals. You had to make them last up to the front of the church.


Being a flower girl was not for sissies. You had to be at the rehearsal, rehearsal dinners and you always had to help making paper flowers for the wedding cars. You had to get to the church early in full regalia with a damn smile on your face. You had to hold your bathroom needs. You could not be sick. You could not talk throughout the service. You could play with your hair. You had to be photo ready at any time. This was not a damn game.


Once up front, you also had to sit still, smile and remember when you needed to get up and down. You could not laugh. You had to keep your eye on the priest and bride and groom. You had to be ready to grab that stupid little ring bearer by the arm and throw him down, if necessary. You had to be ready to give the hairy eyeball to the bridesmaids who were always flirting with the groomsmen. Sometimes we sat through the whole service. Other times, we were required to get up and stand with the bridesmaids. We were, in essence, smaller bridesmaids.


This was serious stuff. And our professionalism and cuteness kept us being in demand for a long time. But once you are past a certain age, you basically cannot take on the role of a flower girl. You age out and have to wait a few years before you can even be a bridesmaid. The tween and teenage years are not a flower girl's best friends.


Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Getting used to City Living and a Welcome Wagon gone wrong

Okay, Wilmington is not a huge city. It is not Atlanta. It is not Los Angeles. It is more like an Asheville or Santa Fe. It is small and has everything we need. We love that.

The problem is that for 6 years we lived in a tiny town with nothing or no one. Okay, there were people and we lived in a residential part of town with neighbors but never encountered said neighbors. Well, there was the one time when our neighbor came to our door with some chewed up packages of bras I had ordered on the Internet. Some random dogs picked the packages up from our porch and dragged them next door. That was awkward.

Then one Halloween, I had a demented Jester, who turned out to be a neighbor, come to my door when I was NOT giving out candy. Some random kids came by and I had to school them on the rules of Halloween. We would see out next door neighbor on his riding mower almost every day during the summer but I never spoke to him.

Since our house was on a main street across from the river, people were always driving by and from the front yard you could see people on the river fishing. Sometimes they saw us and would wave. But, for the most part, I never had to interact with anyone except the UPS, FedEx and mail people.

Here in the city, there are people everywhere. Our neighborhood is very people friendly. Every day starting from super early in the morning to late at night, there are people walking, running, biking and just strolling. So at any given time there are people on the street.

In Sylva, I could get away with going to get the mail in my jammies. Here, no way. I would not even think of doing that. I have to actually put on big girl clothes because I might see the neighbors or just random people on the street.

I have run into the neighbors quite a few times. When I have gone out they are either in the front or back yard. I see them often. The other neighbors are never to be seen but there have been a few times when I have gone out to get the mail and there are people in their yard.

I am so not used to that. When I lived in Sylva, I could spend an hour in my garden and not see a soul. Cars would drive by but they were going fast so they never could see me looking like hell. Here, if I get the mail in the front yard, I will see lots of people. And the cars driving by go slow because there is a speed hump right in front of our house so they slow up.

On several occasions, especially while on my treadmill, I have had people wandering around our house. Luckily, they were okay to be there. If I go outside to the backyard, I will encounter our back door neighbors in the alley. I have had to talk to a few. I usually just wave then sneak into the garage until they are gone. Unlike Tom, I don't like speaking to everyone.

On Sunday, we were relaxing. I had just finished a 2 mile treadmill workout and showered and put on my jammies since it was around 3 pm and we were not going out. Tom had just showered as well after a day of working on our yard. We had settled in and I was watching "30 Days of Night" because if there is a vampire movie on TV, I will watch it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a woman coming up our walkway. We can see everything from our living room. And I tell Tom, OMG someone is coming. He has no shirt on. I am in my jammie pants and my Obama shirt that has seen better days. She is dressed like she is going to Church.


She knocks and, of course, Tom opens the door. If he had not been here, I would have turned down the TV and run into the other room pretending I was not home. But not Tom. He opens that door and she is all perky and Hi There, I am here to welcome you to Wilmington. Then, Tom invites her in. WTF? In 50 years, I have learned to never invite vampires into your house and never invite random people who knock on your door inside your house.

At this point, because we live in the South, I am a little leery to stand up and show my ragtag Obama shirt to the nice lady in the nice suit but I had no choice because Tom LET HER IN! Now, luckily, my house is always pretty clean lately. For some reason, this house is easier to clean or maybe I just have not gotten over cleaning this house like I had our Sylva house. So the house looks nice but I am always interested in how strangers will take our decor.

We have skulls, a Grim Reaper, a painting of a green naked lady on a chaise lounge, crosses, and lots of day of the dead collectibles. It's not an ordinary house. She looked around and had the "What the hell are these people into" look! In any case, she is chatting about the goody bag and asking where we are from and blah blah blah. I just wanted her out. She was a nice lady but I don't like strangers seeing me in wet hair and my jammies except maybe for Colin Farrell. I wouldn't mind him seeing me in my jammies and vice versa. But this woman was no Colin Farrell.


Luckily, she cut her visit short and left us quickly. It was super duper nice there is a WIlmington Welcome Wagon but if you come to my house, bring a cake or wine. I don't want random people coming to my front door with goodie bags, unless it is Colin Farrell. The goody bag wasn't even that wonderful. We do get some freebies but was it worth giving up my dignity for a free sandwich? I think not. You know, she probably came on a Sunday expecting us to be in our Sunday best and got Obama and a shirtless Tom instead. I suspect, she will not be coming around anytime soon.



 

Thursday, August 21, 2014

Throwback Thursday ~ Little Caro and Jackie

Okay, my sister's name is really Yvonne but my nickname for her is Jackie. Don't ask why. I have no idea.

That might be coffee in front of me. Who knows? I do remember one of the most delicious and weird things my mom gave us for breakfast was bread and Parmesan cheese. It had to be the Kraft cheese in the green container. We would dip our bread in cafe con leche then into the cheese. OMG, so yummy.

Sure, that's weird but it's good. If I have the Kraft Parmesan cheese, I sometimes eat that now. I rarely buy that cheese anymore. And you can't use the fresh Parmesan cheese. It has to be the Kraft Parmesan cheese. Don't ask me why, it's just what it is.

Anyway, here is another adorable picture of us!