Life Goes On

by Magnolia

Shifty, you and Dolly Parton are coaxing me out of my fog. I thank you for that and I know Sportsfan does too. It’s time to deal. You see, we had to put our sweet dog Lucy down on Friday which made this Thanksgiving especially difficult to be thankful. We knew it was coming. She had cancer. I mistakenly thought that because we had the chance to say goodbye to her, that it would be easier. Not so much.

I realize that there are much greater tragedies in life. God forbid something was to happen to our children or our families or friends. If this is the greatest tragedy that we are to face, then we should be so lucky. But it was way before her time and she was such a good dog. Lucy was the very best of the best.

I’ll spare you the countless stories of her fabulousness other than the fact she made every person feel like she loved them best. That’s quite a trait to possess. Now I have to do what Dolly tells me to do in “Hard Candy Christmas” and get on with my life. Sportsfan has to get his own paper in the morning. I’ll have to start cleaning up my own spills again. And I’ll have to accept the fact that my cats just aren’t that excited to see me when I get home.

So life goes on for us. I’m glad to get Thanksgiving behind us and we can move on to Christmas. I’ll need to work harder on Dolly’s advice because for now, sorrow is bringing me down.
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Compostin' on a Saturday Night!

Hello again CFTer’s! Hazel is back and feeling much better I must say. I hear some of you think I’m absolutely crazy for making homemade soup for myself when I’m sick but, honestly, it gives me something to do while I am feeling down and out. This may also be an insight into my personality. It seems I have to always be doing something. Which leads me to my latest and greatest love--my COMPOSTER. Who knew decaying organic matter could be SO much fun?
I’ve wanted one for quite awhile. I mean with all the cooking and baking I do and with me planning my vegetable garden it makes perfect sense. So, I went to the library and checked out a couple of books. My favorite being “Let it Rot." According to this book the leaves that litter my yard and driveway are Composting GOLD. So when my yard guys came to pick up the leaves and place them into those large yard sacks, I began to see them as really valuable instead of a nuisance. Leaves plus food scraps equals nitrogen rich soil baby!

I get the Composter put together with the help of my oldest son. I hate following directions, but he doesn't so, some how we persevere. You see, I have a pail of rotting food that I have been collecting for 5 days and it’s starting to get pretty FUNKY. I go to get the leaves at the end of the driveway and horror upon horrors! My leaves are gone! Total composting buzz kill! The bags must have gotten picked up at the end of the day on Friday without me noticing. Why o why didn’t I get them from the street? I’m really bummed. So I’m telling all this to my sweet husband and he can see how disappointed I am. I just don’t have enough leaves to get started and I’m not a good waiter. No patience here.

Long story short, crafty and ingenious husband takes our fluffy puppy for a bike ride through the neighborhood. When he gets back he tells me that our neighbor’s 3 doors down have a lovely bag of leaves on their curb. I make him sneak down there with me and we pick them up. It felt so naughty like we were stealing something really valuable. I mean they didn’t want or need those leaves, but still, it was oddly thrilling and fun.
I now have 2 composters going simultaneously. My first batch (second photo) has cooled off and is ready to be spread. The insects that were part of that breaking down process are not for the squeamish. Let me tell you. Really cool though. My 2 boys think I’m mental. Can’t wait to get my earthworms going… on to Vermiculture! Click Here to Keep Reading...

What's on your Channel?

by Magnolia

So it’s all football, all the time here at my house. I’m not complaining. I love it. There’s nothing else on tv anyway. My beloved 24 hasn’t been on in forever and American Idol doesn’t start until January. That explains why I have watched about 36 days straight of football on television. That does not explain why football is on every night of the week. But, it certainly keeps Sportsfan (and Junior) happy. It does not keep Little E happy. She thinks there’s too much yelling coming from the den.


All this football love makes my last night that much more surprising. One of my favorite movies of all times was on and Sportsfan and I watched it from the very beginning to the very end. That never happens. But it was Coal Miner’s Daughter and if you’re lucky enough to catch it from the start, how can you pull yourself away? Sissy Spacek and Tommy Lee Jones were incredible in this movie and the soundtrack is one of the best.

This brings up an idea that Sportsfan and I have been discussing for years. We want to design our own cable station that plays our favorite movies over and over again on a constant loop. (We’re currently at odds over adding an occasional ”Seinfeld” episode to the mix.) So far, we have the following confirmed:

Animal House
Blues Brothers
Caddyshack
Dazed and Confused
Midnight Run
Office Space
Rocky I, II, III
Vacation & Christmas Vacation

Think about it. At any given moment, you could turn to “The Channel” and find one of these gems waiting for you.

So what would you add to “The Channel”? Let me know and we’ll consider it. Then I’ll go talk to Comcast and get this thing done. Click Here to Keep Reading...

Last Night the DJ Saved My Life

I’ve just spent several nights at my parents’ house in my childhood bedroom while I was in town for work. I always find interesting things packed away in my room when I go home – my college application, an unused box of wedding invitations, my senior thesis, diaries filled with angst about boys whose faces and last names I can’t even remember, yearbooks, mile swim patches, and lots of great pictures.

But this visit I found the mother lode – my collection of 45 RPM records. I guess I always had wide-ranging musical interests, because it is an extremely eclectic collection. Most of these I bought myself with my own money, although some were gifts and one was a fantastic prize. I have such great memories of putting the adaptor piece onto the record player and listening to them in my room one after the other, most of the time singing along very loudly with Chick.

Here’s a sampling:

Waltz Across Texas – my first Ernest Tubb record given to me by my Daddy
Puttin’ On The Ritz – Taco
Safety Dance – Men Without Hats
Ebony & Ivory – McCartney and Wonder
Nobody – Sylvia; Never Been to Me – Charlene; ’65 Love Affair; and Mickey (bought this great group all at one time)
9 to 5 – Dolly Parton
Owner of A Lonely Heart – YES (won this for winning a dance contest with a really cute boy at cotillion – never had liked this song until then)

And to top it all off: Push It – Salt-n-Pepa Click Here to Keep Reading...

I'm ready for my close-up

So I had a little surgery last week. No worries at all unless you count my obsession with the photographs of my innards a worry. I have gone from not breathing a word about this surgery to anyone to now showing every person I come across the actual pictures of my tumor. Keep in mind that I am an incredibly squeamish person. In fact, I just now looked at my incisions a few days ago. Sportsfan once had 3 moles removed from his back and I fainted when I had to change the bandages. So this makes my preoccupation with my insides that much more confusing.

I carefully explained to my daughter the importance of privacy in matters such as these. I emphasized the fact that we did not need to talk about this outside of our family. Now when people ask her how I’m feeling, she replies, “I would prefer not to talk about it.” Oh dear. Now look at me! I’m broadcasting my tumors on the World Wide Web! I even sent my prized photographs to my niece’s 2 year old birthday party in my absence. I could not wait for Sportsfan to return from the party with some great tumor admiration stories. I must admit I was a little disappointed that everyone didn’t share my enthusiasm.

So this obsession finally culminated the other morning at breakfast. As usual, I was examining my glamour shots over an English muffin, and as usual, Junior was reading the sports page asking all sorts of questions about the stats for the Titans game. He asks, “What’s an assist?” And of course I say, “Well honey, it’s a fluid filled sac that sometimes forms in your body.” His reply snaps me out of my trance. “No Mom. An ASSIST. Like in football. Not a cyst. I know what that is.”

My literal self absorption started to fall apart right then and there. I have put the pictures away for now. But, if you want to see them, I’m sure I could make an exception. Just as long as you brag.

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Veterinary Trophies

Last week, I came home to discover my pup was tremendously ill and we had to make a dash for the 24 Hour Veterinary Clinic!  Good news is that our mutt is made of some seriously hardy stock so she’s just fine but that’s not to say the moments in the waiting room weren’t tremendously tense.  Thus begins my tale of the Veterinary Trophy Room:

 What could have been a painful hour waiting for an uncertain outcome, fortunately for us, dissolved into tears of laughter!  Perhaps to regale and assure worried pet owners, the staff of this particular clinic have lovingly procured and tenderly curated a shadowbox display chocked full of foreign objets removed from animal innards. 

Completing our experience was the reception staff who could tell you the name of the animal from whence each item came~ imagine Night Shift with Harry Winkler working in the morgue meets Beavis and Butthead of MTV fame (huh huh).  

 “Oh yeah it was Cosmo that ate that there Polly Pocket doll.”  (Why did I not take pictures?!)  Can you imagine the chewed up quasi-digested doll, removed, rinsed then resurrected for permanent display-- hair mangled but sunny disposition and perfect make-up still intact!?

 Then came the blasted giant fishing lures ole Buddy happened to wolf down~  gettin’ those out was a down right doosey per B&B.  The 14 oz. can of vegetables that got stuck in the Pit Bull’s jaws, several swallowed pet toys etc.  To cap it all off was a large collection of smooth golf ball sized rocks~ they were none other than canine bladder stones.  Did the pet owners formally waive their rights to these items?

 I swear~ there is a collector for just about everything out there.  One man’s (or pet’s) trash is another man’s treasure, indeed.  So, what’s the weirdest collection you have ever heard of?  Can you provide photo evidence? 

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It's An Honor To Be Here!

Greetings from Music City USA! My name is Magnolia and I am so honored and flattered to be one of the new drumsticks! Chick and I have known each other a long time and have many good memories so I am ready to make some more. Chick caught me by such surprise when she asked me to join CFT. Come to think of it, that seems to have become a theme in my life. When I got the phone call asking me to be the next PTO president at our school, I was stunned beyond belief. I thought, “Are they sure they have called the right person?” Some would call that being humble. I call it a lack of intuition.

In a nutshell, I’m the most normal person you’ll ever meet. I live in the town where I grew up with a great husband and two kids—you guessed it, a boy and a girl. I am currently a stay at home mom and that seems to be what I have been doing most of lately. In fact, what do working moms do when their child has pneumonia for 2 weeks? I can’t figure it out.

As I mentioned earlier, I am a dutiful volunteer at my children’s school, I sell women’s clothing part time, I play a lot of tennis but don’t seem to be getting any better, and these days, I have been watching a great deal of football. Doesn’t matter what kind just as long as it’s on television but I prefer the SEC, specifically, the University of Georgia and, of course, the Tennessee Titans.

I married probably the biggest Georgia Bulldog fan anyone could ever meet. Now I don’t mean that he’s a face painter or anything. He’s a respectable fan. In fact, you would be wise to sit next to him at a game because he seems to know EVERYTHING there is to know. He has also passed this gene on to my son who retains every useless football stat thrown at him.

Needless to say, this passion for Georgia football has definitely rubbed off on me. I’m no dummy. Saturday nights are a lot more fun when Georgia wins. And better bowl games mean better trips, right? Who doesn’t want to spend New Year’s in New Orleans?

So there we have it. And I hope you don’t misunderstand. As you will soon see, my being normal does not equate with being boring. It just makes everyone and everything I come across in life seem that much crazier! I look forward to sharing it with you.

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Chicken Soup for the Soul

Hola CFT . Hazel here. Chick, I’m sick! Therefore, my post has to be abbreviated. Seems I have come down with a nasty, nasty sinus infection and my head is currently floating outside of my body. I’m operating at 25 %. My next post will reflect how truly excited I am to be a part of the CFT family but tonight I give you soup. Matzo Ball Soup with Homemade Chicken Broth. That’s been my world for the last 2 days. If you want the recipe, keep reading. For the Homemade Stock start with a cut up roasting chicken, a large yellow onion quartered, 3 large carrots cut into large pieces, 4 celery stalks cut into large pieces, Bunch of fresh Parsley, Dill, Rosemary, Thyme- anything you like with poultry that you have on hand, 3-4 cloves of garlic peeled, 1 tablespoon of Kosher salt and 1 tsp of black peppercorns. Place everything in a large stock pot and cover with water.
Simmer uncovered 2 hours or so. Strain the entire contents through a colander and discard the solids. (Compost the veggies- more on that later!) Chill the stock overnight and remove the surface fat the next day. At this point I put the stock back on the stove and add 1 Tablespoon organic Better Than Bouillon chicken base and bring back to a boil. Check to see if it needs any additional salt or pepper.
Start the Matzo Balls. At the store pick up a pack of Manischewitz Matzo Ball mix. Follow the directions and be sure to boil the balls in water NOT stock. I like big balls just so you know. Now add the finished Matzo balls to your homemade broth and you will have a winning bowl of goodness that might make you feel better or at least like a good Jewish mother. Click Here to Keep Reading...

Don't Tread on Me

Hello CFT Fans - I am excited to be on board. I've been tagged to provide the next intro - which is kind of like when you used to dance in a circle in college and someone would point to you and you'd have to get in the middle and do some sort of move to impress the cute boy watching the silly group of girls, and I really only ever had one move, which I've come to find out is called "the pony" in my Mom and Aunt's aerobics class. Chick, on the other hand, has some moves! But I digress.

A little about me: I'm the resident full-time working mom - I'm a partner in a law firm and have a great husband and two cute kids. I spend a lot of my time wondering what it is that I may have forgotten to do (the one about being the tooth fairy may be forthcoming), I am never without a yellow post-it and I often have reminders written in ink on my hands (usually in code so noone knows that I'm concerned about remembering to do the laundry so we'll have clean socks). Fairly often, I get asked the question - how do you manage to do everything you do? And while I usually rattle off some very well-thought out and meaningful response, in the back of my mind I'm just thinking that I'm on this tread mill, getting a great workout, with a runner's high and if I stop or try to get off, well, I may end up like this:



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Introducing Shifty

Greetings CFT fans! I’m new to the blogosphere but for years Chick has told me that my ADD riddled mind is perfect for such a format. So here goes~ I’m jumping in head first!

I am a single mother happily dating the love of my life. I have fashioned myself as a career-volunteer, focusing on women’s issues, mental illness, addiction and science education. So while I have no formal title in life sometimes, when asked, I say I have a Think Tank (I mean- I do think about a lot of things…so what if I’m the only person in the tank? Maybe this opportunity will add a few new members. I’m certain we can solve some world issues, like ending panty lines, once and for all.)

My other favorite moniker I have been trying on for size is “Life Coach”. Recently my physical therapist strongly recommended I hire this guy who is a personal trainer AND a life coach….all I could think was “nice way to tell me that you think I am out of shape and crazy at the same time!" Understand I am all for going to “talking doctors”, psychiatrists and therapists~ Lord knows where I’d be without them! What tickles me is this new “life coach” subset that has recently come into my consciousness. While one can train to be a certified life coach it is not mandatory yet. Thus I have declared myself a life coach. Hey- I’ve seen some things and I’m not afraid to tell someone my opinion. I’m envisioning myself hanging out at my favorite coffeeshop, having clients drop in for some tough love. What do you think? I’ll wear awhistle around my neck and treat my clients to a nice swat on the you-know-what as they leave. “Go get ‘em!”

I used to think it was fun to say that I worked for NASA~ a space pioneer, if you will, but that jealous broad who drove across the country in adult diapers dismantled the air of intrigue and allure I thought space travel embodied.

This brings me to how I got the name Shifty. I went on an epic all-girls fly fishing trip in Montana- truly one of the best times of my life. We caused quite a stir on the river, a story I will save for later, and spent the evening at the riverside watering hole sharing lots of toasts with locals and other visiting fishermen. As the evening wore on the questions became increasingly more personal and, well, I kind of slipped into my shtick where I try on various titles just for the fun of it. (I once convinced someone that I invented the corn nut.) Well, that’s when one of our new friends started calling me Shifty…since they couldn’t get a straight answer out of me.

In real life I am so NOT shifty… I am a rule-following-Pollyanna but as you can see, I liked being dubbed shifty. We all need a flip-side, right?
I look forward to sharing more with you!

XO-
Shifty
Mother • Astronaut • Life Coach • Think Tank • Corn Nut Inventor • Friend
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Vote Acqui Here

I suppose Little Chick led the way with her patriotic Halloween costume. We didn't plan to coordinate with the presidential election, she's actually wanted to dress as the Statue of Liberty since summertime. But it certainly felt relevant on Friday night. Now, normally I am passionately a-political, but even I will confess to catching some of the Election Day spirit today.

So I arrived at my polling location with my camera.









But I quickly learned I was breaking the rules. Apparently you are not allowed to take pictures within 100 feet of the ballots. Que? A fellow patriotic outlaw tried to help me sneak a quick pic.









Once inside the actual voting room I decided to be inifinitely more well-behaved. I noticed a poster on the wall with instructions:

SPIT OUT GUM.
SIT ON THE FLOOR QUIETLY.
ASK BEFORE USING THE RESTROOM.

Curious. But I dutifully spat my gum in the trashcan and I was about to plop down criss-cross applesauce on the cold floor (in a dress!) when, like any good American, I started to question authority.

"Uh, why do I have to ask yall to use the restroom?"

The volunteers fell into a heap of laughter. Obvious to everyone but me, the poster was a permanant part of the after-school program at this recreation center.

For some reason they still let me cast a vote for President of The United States of America.



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Progress Since Our Last Session

Okay, so it’s been awhile since I’ve been on the couch here at Chicken Fried Therapy. When you stay away for any period of time it gets harder and harder to get back into the swing of the blog thing. I’m telling you, my hat is off to those of you who are raising a family and working at your job all day and writing on your blog regularly.

Show-offs.

But really, I crumbled under the blogging pressure and I just couldn’t seem to handle it all on my own. So I have made a decision -- oh hell, I’ll get to that in a minute. But first….

Let me get you up to speed. Little Chick went to sleep-away camp for the first time this summer, and I was so excited I turned into an unbridled Summer Camp Stage Mom. But by the end of the summer I channeled all my crazy-mommy energy into her Mamma Mia-inspired birthday bash. It was kind of an ABBA-meets-Hannah Montana blend that had me wearing white velour bell bottoms.

These days Little Chick is well into the swing of third-grade and her homework is kicking my ass -- which is a hard pill for me to swallow because I was always pretty much one of the smart ones. Now I am being stumped by 3rd grade math.

On the upside I have a dashing new boyfriend so I feel adorable and brilliant most of the time regardless. Ha! My new sweetheart, The Professor, lives a few states away so we hop around the South trying to find a time & place to meet up. I won’t say exactly where he’s from (have to save some dish for a later post!) but let’s just say in addition to pulling for the Carolina Tarheels and The Texas Longhorns, I’ve been overheard screaming “Roll Tide!” a lot more lately.

Hey, they are number one in the country right now so it looks like I hitched my wagon to a winner.

Here’s the kicker…he loves to fish and he’s a hell of a lot better at it than I am. I guess you could say we had a fly-fishing fairytale romance in Montana this summer. What’s that? I’m sorry, did I hear you swooning? I know, I know. It was dreamy. And no, my obsession with fly-fishing has not waned since our last session.

Slowly but surely I’ve been writing more regularly on my other site, Fly Fish Chick. But juggling two blogs all by my lonesome proved to be more than I could handle. Which leads me to my news.

I have decided to make Chicken Fried Therapy a team blog.

It’s very exciting. I have shanghaied five of my bestest girlfriends to join me here for storytelling, laughs and creativity. Most of them came along willingly. One girl still thinks she turned me down and won’t accept my calls, but she’ll get over that soon enough -- once she realizes she has no choice.

I just couldn’t let it all go….but I couldn’t do it without the help of some really terrific girls. Very representative of life, wouldn’t you say? So Chicken Fried Therapy is now going to be group therapy.

The new writers, lovingly dubbed The Drumsticks, each march to their own beat. We are adding a tennis player, an award-winning volunteer, a mom with two babies in diapers (anyone care to wager a guess as to which girl was resistant to joining my blog?), a tax attorney, and a soon-to-be pilates instructor. The Drumsticks collect art, design stationery, serve as PTA president, represent massive corporations, and manage their own personal compost.

That’s right, you heard me. I’ve brought a composter into the mix. Think she knows how to dish out the BS, or what?

So stay tuned my faithful chickens. It’s about to get loud in this wacky henhouse. How about a drumroll for the The Drumsticks?


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