Monday, February 22, 2010

Scented Body Spray


Here is an easy, easy recipe for a scented body spray. Make sure you use it within a couple of weeks. Or, you can add an antibacterial agent such as grapefruit seed extract or germaben.

1 ¼ c distilled water
2 Tbsp liquid glycerin
1 Tbsp aloe vera gel
12 drops essential oil of your choice*
1- 80z clear spray bottle

Mix ingredients and shake vigorously.
*You can also use a fragrance oil, or even a bit of your favorite cologne.
Enjoy! Especially cooling in hot weather if you keep it in the refrigerator. This makes a quick and easy gift for someone special too.

Monday, February 15, 2010

You Know You Have An Internet Addiction When............


This really made me laugh........great way to start the week with a big smile

Your bookmark takes 15 minutes to scroll from top to bottom.

Your eyeglasses have a web site burned in on them.

You turn off your modem and get this awful empty feeling, like you just pulled the plug on a loved one.

You refer to going to the bathroom as downloading.

You turn on your intercom when leaving the room so you can hear if new e-mail arrive.

All of your friends have an @ in their names.

When looking at a pageful of someone else's links, you notice all of them are already highlighted in purple.

Your dog has its own home page.

Your dog's homepage is actually good.

You can't call your mother...she doesn't have a modem.

You check your mail. It says no new messages. So you check it again.

Your phone bill comes to your doorstep in a box.

You don't know the sex of three of your closest friends, because they have neutral nicknames and you never bothered to ask.

Your husband tells you he's had the beard for 2 months.

You wake up at 3 a.m. to go to the bathroom and stop and check your e-mail on the way back to bed.

You ask a plumber how much it would cost to replace the chair in front of your computer with a toilet.

Your husband says communication is important in a marriage...so you buy another computer and install a second phone line so the two of you can chat.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Find Your Joy

Happiness is like a cat, If you try to coax it or call it, it will avoid you;
it will never come.
But if you pay not attention to it and go about your business,
you'll find it rubbing against your legs and
jumping into your lap.


-William John Bennett-

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Tropical Fruit Smoothie



A little something to pull you out of the doldrums of Winter. Like a day of sunshine!




1 cup chopped fresh pineapple
1/2 cup chopped peeled papaya
1/4 cup canned guava nectar
1 tablespoon lime juice
1 teaspoon grenadine syrup
1/2 cup ice




Makes 1 serving. Place all ingredients in blender. Pulse three or four times to chop fruit, then run until smooth.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Deep Thoughts For Children

From an actual newspaper contest where entrants age 4 to 15 were asked to express their deepest thoughts.


I believe you should live each day as if it is your last, which is why I don't have any clean laundry because, come on, who wants to wash clothes on the last day of their life? -- Age 15

Give me the strength to change the things I can, the grace to accept the things I cannot, and a great big bag of money. -- Age 13

Democracy is a beautiful thing, except for that part about letting just any old yokel vote. -- Age 10

For centuries, people thought the moon was made of green cheese. Then the astronauts found that the moon is really a big hard rock. That's what happens to cheese when you leave it out. -- Age 6

Think of the biggest number you can. Now add five. Then, imagine if you had that many Twinkies. Wow, that's five more than the biggest number you could come up with! -- Age 6

As you make your way through this hectic world of ours, set aside a few minutes each day. At the end of the year, you'll have a couple of days saved up. -- Age 7

Often, when I am reading a good book, I stop and thank my teacher. That is, I used to, until she got an unlisted number. -- Age 15

It would be terrible if the Red Cross Bloodmobile got into an accident. No, wait. That would be good because if anyone needed it, the blood would be right there. -- Age 5

If we could just get everyone to close their eyes and visualize world peace for an hour, imagine how serene and quiet it would be until the looting started. -- Age 15

Monday, February 8, 2010

Dancing in the Rain



"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass.
It's about learning to dance in the rain."

Peach Cobbler


Ingredients: (serves 8)
8 Cups pitted and sliced Ripe Peaches
1/4 cup cornstarch
2 tablespoons dark-brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt-6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter cut into small pieces
1 large egg
2/3 cup heavy cream
Vanilla ice cream, or whipped cream, for serving

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Place peaches, cornstarch, dark-brown sugar, and cinnamon in a large bowl. Toss until well combined. Pour mixture into an 8 1/2-by-11 1/2-inch baking dish.


2. In a large bowl, combine flour, 1/4 cup granulated sugar, the baking powder, and salt. Using a fork, two knives, or a pastry blender, cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal.


3. Whisk together egg and cream in a liquid-measuring cup. Slowly add this mixture to dry ingredients; mix with a fork until dough just comes together. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured board, and roughly shape into a 12-inch log. Using a bench scraper, cut log into twelve equal portions.


4. Place rough balls of dough on top of peach mixture. Sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons granulated sugar. Bake until golden brown, about 45 minutes. Transfer pan to a rack, and let cool slightly. Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

Friday, February 5, 2010

A Little Giggle

A good friend of mine sent this to me... every woman will understand this one. This explains that unanswered question men have of why women go to the bathroom in pairs or groups.

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance." To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it?) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?" This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest? you've GOT to be kidding!).

It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!