What IS That Smell?

Oh, dear readers, have you ever asked this question?

You smell something that's not quite right. You light a candle, or spray some air freshener, and move on.

Then, it gets worse.

Your apartment begins to reek.

You take out the trash, de-stink your sink, change the cat litter, light a candle, and move on.

Then, IT GETS WORSE.

Now your apartment has an odor you can only liken to Dementor's breath. And you CAN'T. FIND. THE. SOURCE.

You know the call is coming from inside the house - you just can't seem to figure out where.

So, if you're me, you employ your ridiculously attuned Scooby Doo super sniffer and start searching high and low. Yes, I have sniffed every inch of my apartment.

And then you find IT....


Let me take you back to Sunday night. I am a big believer in sales, so when I found turkeys at a huge discount after Thanksgiving, I bought one and froze it. Frozen stuff really only keeps about 6 months, so since it was coming to be that time, I roasted my turkey Sunday afternoon. I carved up the meat, put it in tupperware, and put it in the fridge.

Now you're thinking, "oh, she must have dropped a piece of meat somewhere and it started to spoil and smell."

Not with a catfish-type dog around. That would be too easy.

Then, being a student of my father's frugal, "use every part" ways, I boiled the carcass to make stock, then drained off the fat, strained the broth, and froze it.

Now you're thinking, "oh, she didn't get rid of the turkey carcass. That's what smelled."

If only it were that simple.

After three days of worsening smell, I found IT.

You see, while boiling my turkey carcass, apparently the boil got a little crazy and began spilling over the sides of the pot, where it began to drain UNDER the drip pans on my stove and POOL IN PUDDLES OF NASTY beneath my cooktop.

Yes, that smell, that God-forsaken, dead fish mixed with Satan's rear end mixed with other nastiness smell, was rotting, fat-laden turkey broth.

Half a bottle of Fabuloso, 39 paper towels, 6 gags, and a little candle burning later, and the Dementor's breath smell was gone.

Only me, y'all. Only me...

The Best Friend a Girl Can Have

Five years ago today, I fell in love with a boy in a picture.

Sure, he was furry and only 8 weeks old, but I was in love.

Sure, he cost the same as a down payment on a Honda, but he was worth it.

Four weeks later, I lied to my parents (because at 19, you do that) and flew halfway across the country by myself, armed with a pink and polka-dotted dog carrier, a blue alligator leash and collar, and a heart full to bursting.

 

I never stood a chance against this face.

I have yet to find a single situation that he can't improve...

...Christmas...

...sick days...

 

...Easter...

 

 

...hikes...

 

...Halloween...

 

 

...waterfall jumping...

...Saturday errands...

...St. Patrick's Day...

...lake days...

...this little guy is everything.

 

 

And I couldn't be more grateful that he's mine.

 

 

The Time I Got Blown Over By Grace

Y'all, I am not one of those women who goes to church regularly. My grandaddy Jack was the most inspiring minister I have ever heard, and quite honestly, I can't find someone who can really get the message across better than he could. So although I occasionally attend, I usually find myself talking to Grandaddy when my heart needs to feel God.

This morning, I was overwhelmed. I don't really know why, except that I know it is related to my feeling alone. Probably 4/5 people who know me would, if asked to come up with a few words to describe me, probably use the word "independent." My mother said I turned 30 on my 3rd birthday. She's probably right.

I made a decision to end a relationship a couple weeks ago; while it was the right one, it didn't keep it from hurting. I hate hurting other people, and I certainly hate knowing I made a mistake. I am also very much a person who, deep down, needs other people. And I love to cuddle. This makes being single a very tricky business.

I fill up my days with schedules - I wake up at the same time every day, I go to work, I go work out, then I go home and love on my critters, and maybe go out with friends. I go to bed around the same time every night. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. I am not one of those folks who laments "never enough time for yada yada;" I have plenty of time.

I don't lament a lack of people in my life; I am blessed by many wonderful friends.

I don't lament a poor family life/upbringing; I have been surrounded by family since my first breath whom I love upside down and inside out and who love me.

I don't lament my job; I know I am blessed beyond measure to work for a great company, especially with the unemployment rate in Georgia still hovering around 9%.

I lament a simple thing; a partner. This is hard for people like me to admit - I want to be fine. I want to be great on my own. And I know I am. It's just something my heart longs for. But I know it's not up to me. Timing is God's, and His alone. And it isn't time.

There is much work to be done.

For some reason, Grandaddy came to talk to me this morning. He whispered in my ear something he would always say to me when I was little and moving way too fast, near about ready to hurt myself or break something - "Slow down, Slopjar!"

Slow down, because you're missing it.

Slow down, because this is important.

Slow down, because you have exactly what you need right now.

Slow down, because "the LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."

I got annoyed this morning with another driver - he/she (I never looked) was riding my bumper, swerving lanes, riding other folks' bumpers, just in a big ol' hurry. And I found myself muttering, "slow down, crazy." And here I am, not 3 hours later, needing to be told the same exact thing.

Moreover, there are only about 5 or so songs that can make me cry. Two of them played on my Pandora in the last 30 minutes; I wept silently at my desk. Someone's trying to tell me something...

The Time I Went to Work Not Matching

Readers, once again, I suck at daily blogging. So screw it, it's my blog - I post when I post, and now my posts will mean more to you because they aren't whipped together out of a made-up obligation to post, but a need, a veritable need, to share.

I am a hot mess at fashion - my sense of style is cobbled together based on a few key points:
1) Is it clean?
2) Does it (mostly) fit?
3) Am I too young/old to wear it?

...that's about where my thought process stops. Also, I am NOT a morning person, so by the fifth snooze button slam, I am running late. Every. Single. Morning. The subtlety of accessories and carefully selected outfits does not belong in a routine that involves running around saying, "oh s***, oh s***, oh f*** F*** F*** S***TY F***ITY F***!" (true story, ask the dog)

As such, my daily outfit consists of either a dress (if I bothered to spend the 5 minutes to shave my legs, which is doubtful) or pants and a top, some form of shoes, earrings (always the same boring pearl ones), and my watch (which is just an exercise in irony, since there's never a point in wearing a watch if you're late anyway). The end. Don't try to get me to add to it, cause it won't work. If I hit the snooze button six times instead of five, there goes time to wash and dry my hair, so I'll add some form of hair accessory, purely for function.

Two weeks ago, I wore black shoes with a brown dress. I changed at lunch, but the damage was done.

Today, two pieces of my outfit match. Two. (Well, four, if you count that each of my shoes matches the other - I do not)

In my stupor today, I washed my hair, forgetting that I could not dry it or I would be late. I threw on a headband:

At least my blonde is sunning nicely? Thanks, Day At The Pool.

I then threw on some pants that desperately need re-hemming - the hems are held up with safety pins. No lie.

Can anyone tell me what color this is?

It's like brown and grey had a nightmare for a baby.

Then, in my brilliance, I added a green camisole and a green striped shirt. They match each other, but not the headband or the pants.

Then I put on some of my favorite shoes, which sort of but not really match the pants....okay, fine, they don't match any f***ing thing I put on today.

If you thought the pants were actually brown, you can now see they are, in fact, NOT.

Additionally, my pearl earrings? One each from two different sets - broke one, lost the other. They are 2 millimeters different in diameter. Deal with it.

Later, I will reflect on WHY I chose to let you see my weird colored-hair-meets-natural-hair margin....

 

 

My skibbies don't even match. Those will not be pictured.


I do have a matching outfit for Zumba class, though. I guess it's the small victories?

The Time I Tried to Shop at Aldi

Readers, I have missed you. Life has been crazy, I've been busy, (insert excuse for not blogging here). At any rate, I have returned with a story, nay, a lesson, in what happens to a young woman who goes gentle into that good store known as Aldi. First, a little history:

Aldi is a German company, apparently short for Albrecht Discount. Basically, two brothers took over their momma's store, made junk super cheap (comparatively), and started expanding. They split the company when they couldn't agree whether or not to sell cigarettes at the register (like you do), so now they are two separate entities, Aldi Nord and Aldi Süd (north and south, for the non-Deutsch). American Aldi's are part of Aldi Süd, whereas Aldi Nord owns Trader Joe's. Cool, yes?

So my sister-in-law swears by Aldi - she says they have great prices on produce that's always fresh, good store brands, etc. I decided to check it out on Sunday. Imagine my surprise when...

I couldn't find the carts. Like any good shopper, I walked in the front door and expected to see buggies. Not so. After looking around frantically for a buggy or handbasket, I returned to the exterior of the store. There, to the right of the door were the buggies. I attempted to pull one out, then noticed they were linked together like a prison chain gang.

I attempted to use the best Ramblin' Wreckness my 9 semesters at Georgia Tech would afford me to discover how these contraptions came apart. As I lay struggling, I saw a young man returning a cart. Figuring that this was the South, I asked him if I could have his cart. Imagine my surprise when...

He stuttered a no. I then witnessed him link his cart back in, resulting in the return of a quarter.

Alright, y'all, I gotta break this down for you.
1) I never imagined a cart rental system would exist in suburban metro Atlanta.
2) I did not have a quarter.
3) This young "man" would not give me his cart BECAUSE HE WANTED HIS QUARTER BACK. A %$&#@@#^^# quarter. I ask you, nay, I beg of you, is this chivalry? Is the common courtesy so low that a young "man" would leave a woman destitute and despondent for twenty-five cents?

So I dug around in my purse (which my boyfriend likens to a brick) in hopes a quarter would surface. It didn't. So I went back into Aldi, determined to check out what was what. I picked up a few items, proceeded to the register, then noticed something else. Imagine my surprise when...

I learned they don't take credit cards. None.

Y'all, I have a love affair with my American Express. I get Skymiles, the service is impeccable, it basically rules. Telling me I can't use it sends me into a Poe-esque tailspin - I start reciting "Annabel Lee," wearing all black...it's not cute.

The wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my American Express

 



Apparently they take debit cards, but I like getting Skymiles, okay? As I was not finna deal with that, I put my items back and decided to leave. That's when I noticed something else. Imagine my surprise when...

THEY CHARGE YOU FOR BAGS. Seriously. I get it. Plastic is bad for the environment, paper costs a lot, they're trying to keep their costs down and their environmental noses clean. HEARD. But I just cannot see how a grocery store can charge for bags. I near about lost it.

So, in short, will I return to Aldi?

Yes. But I shall be prepared. I shall return with:
1) A quarter
2) Reusable shopping bags
3) A list
4) A harsh word for that jerk who wouldn't give me his cart, should I see him again.

Your move, Aldi.

Teriyaki Beef and Rice

Hey y'all! I promised you a recipe, and here I am, delivering! Don't say I never keep my word! We're gonna make teriyaki beef with veggies and rice. It's 10 Weight Watchers points per serving, and it is tasty.

What You'll Need:
1 pound beef cut for stir fry or fajitas

1 cup white rice
1 cup frozen edamame (shelled)

1 cup frozen veggies (Japanese/Asian blend)

1 handful grape tomatoes, halved

1 cup teriyaki sauce (any kind)

Garlic
Soy sauce to taste

What You'll Do:
1. Prepare rice as directed on package.
2. While your rice cooks, heat olive oil and a little garlic in a pan over medium-high heat, then add your beef and cook until browned. Drain.

After I took this, I got really hungry and forgot to take any more pictures. I'm sorry!

3. Add your frozen veggies, edamame, and teriyaki sauce. Stir and cover, reducing heat to medium.
4. Continue to cook as sauce thickens - add soy sauce or water if it gets too thick, or remove the cover and continue cooking if it's too thin. This is your preference here.
5. After the veggies and beef have married up with the sauce, add your halved tomatoes and give it a quick stir to combine.
6. Serve over rice in a bowl.

This recipe is super flexible, the amounts are not set in stone, and you can substitute as you like. Feel free to interpret as you go. But I promise, this is yummy. See y'all again soon!

I'm a Terrible Blogger...

Ruh-roh, I disappeared again! I've been traveling non-stop, so I've barely been home to perform any home economics! But today, I've got a few quick tips for you:

1. Pet-sit for your friends whenever possible. This is just good karma.

2. Pet stains resulting from pet sitting? Get you some Arm&Hammer Pet Fresh Carpet Powder, put it on the stain, spray with vinegar (it mixes with the baking soda in the powder and will fizz), then blot it up. (or use a carpet cleaner (like a Bissell Green Machine) with vinegar as solution and spray over the powder)

3. NEVER go grocery shopping without a list. Bad things will happen.

4. Don't wash all of your work pants and your spanx at the same time. You'll have to wear a sweater-dress with leggings, and you won't have your spanx to hold it all in. This is happening to me today.

5. Make time to spend with your family. If you're fighting with your family, unless it's something really serious, STOP IT. They love you, and you love them, now be an adult.

I'll get back to you tomorrow (I hope) with a recipe, and you know I'll be cleaning after my guests are back with their father - they are wearing themselves out making messes!