February means the fair has come to Highlands County once again. We missed it last year, and the children have given us no end of bellyaching since this horrible injustice was committed. This is the reason we absolutely had to go this year.
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It's been awhile since I've written about exciting, new culinary adventures, but with Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, I cannot resist the yearnings of my sweet tooth. Of course, this may have more to do with the current stress I've put myself under concerning our taxes and the fact that my sister seems to rake in a seemingly effortless refund each year while we scramble to find a legal way to claim the dog as a dependent. Anxiety never fails to awaken my chocolate cravings.
Many people have new toys and gadgets after the holidays. Over the years, our family has had our share of broken devices with the damage occurring anywhere from minutes to days after the initial unwrapping.
The spring semester in nursing school has introduced my class to mental health, a subject I have been eagerly anticipating for obvious reasons. From the very first day, I knew I'd gain insight into myself and begin enlightening everyone around me with their undiagnosed mental illnesses.
At least once or twice a year, a media report surfaces about an incident involving a store employee clashing with a mother who is in the process of publicly breastfeeding her infant. I've always felt fairly neutral on the subject seeing as how I'm not outraged over the fact that women have the option of feeding their infants via lactation, nor am I grossed out over this perfectly natural function of the human body. If I were, I guess I'd rethink the idea of registered nursing as a future career.
"Stop being unnecessarily annoying!"
Like many Americans, I'm not particularly thrilled with my current weight. For this reason, when I shop for clothes, I try to buy inexpensive items that deemphasize the more accentuated areas of my body. This profusely limits my choices and leads to bouts of depression.
I turned 38-years old on December 1st. Birthdays are not some kind of accomplishment because they come and go whether you want them to or not until they stop one day, which is not usually good news for anyone.
Thanksgiving has come and gone once again. If you're anything like me, you love to spend turkey day afternoon lazily pawing through the Black Friday ads to see what kind of preposterous deals a handful of people will be able to snag in the wee hours of the morning.
Since the onset of my medical issues last month and my "professionally advised restriction" concerning the operation of a vehicle, I have not been behind the wheel of a car for 31 days. It's like I'm 16 years old all over again and being driven around by my friends - Karen in particular.
Since my family has been on a budget, we've been doing our grocery shopping around town at a few discount stores. At first, it was weird buying the off-brands, foreign brands, and questionably legal brands that are sold at these locations, but like any necessity, we're adjusting.
In honor of Andy Rooney's retirement from "60 Minutes," I have decided to expose my inner crotchety old woman and share a short list of my pet peeves. The fact that I have a list should suffice as homage to Mr. Rooney.
"She has the voice of an angel" is a comment that will never grace my ears unless I happen to be lurking nearby someone else who is the intended recipient. I have the voice of a buffalo with a nasty cold which means that I'm always irrationally jealous of people who have an innate ability to sing well. I once considered voice lessons, but I have come to truly believe there are just people in the world who need to fulfill the role of listener.
Nursing school is back in full swing which means that the second-year students are being unleashed upon the area hospitals so we can practice on patients, instead of mannequins, all the procedures and information that we've been methodically cataloging in our mental file cabinets.
Growing up, I spent almost every school break with my mom on a cattle ranch just outside the city limits of Avon Park. My older brother, Jerry, and I wasted countless hours roaming through the pastures, climbing trees, playing with cars and riding his Shetland pony, Cricket, all over the place.
Last week, my family returned to school. I began my last year of the nursing program, my husband is taking more classes towards his degree, my son entered the 5th grade and my daughter started kindergarten. This makes my house officially "homework central" so please don't come over unless you want to help fold laundry.
Warning: the following article contains mild violence that is being neither encouraged nor condoned by the author.
Water parks offer an ideal family activity to escape the oppressive Florida heat, as long as you can overlook the crowds, constantly wet toilet seats and the communal bathing atmosphere. The size, shape, body hair distribution and physical condition of people's bodies vary as much as the colors of their swimsuits.
Some little girls love to play with dolls, have tea parties for their stuffed animals, and fantasize about marrying Prince Charming so they can ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. I wasn't one of those girls; horses were my world.
I've never been a good liar. In my youth, I tried dishonesty like others teens tried drinking, but my conscience is too tenacious. I have vivid memories of all the lies I've ever told because they hang like a sinful weight on my soul; therefore, fear of potential guilt curbs my desire to weave inaccurate tales.
"Mom, you aren't going out dressed like that, are you?"
Picture it: a 500-pound shut-in eating fried chicken straight out of the bucket. She has too many cats, a perpetually runny nose (due to the cat allergy) and is surrounded by stacks of books. Yes, this would be an alternate universe picture of myself, if I hadn't fallen in love, gotten married, had kids and possessed some level of ambition to for my life.
Animal sitting is not cut out for just anyone. There are two qualifications that absolutely must be met: (1) the potential critter sitter must be a wonderful, generous person; and (2) said sitter has no plans to leave town for a while. A third prerequisite is that this person has to be a die-hard lover of animals, but that is more of a guideline than a hard-wired rule.
Nursing school involves constant mental immersion into the facts and physiology of the human body. As a student, you begin thinking of everything in medical terms: nearsightedness is myopia, vomit is emesis, urination is voiding, and pregnancy becomes gravidity.
My dad was a television repairman when I was growing up, which meant that our house was not lacking in pixilated pastime. I once counted six units in our home: one in each of the three bedrooms, the family room, the living room, and the kitchen. Perhaps that was a bit much now that I think about it.
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