Tuesday, March 27, 2012



BFF 179


The first time I saw you, I was intrigued. I watched you closely as my intrigue grew steady and strong. Soon, it came to a point where I was seeking you out wherever I could find you. I googled your name, found photos and details about you. I spent long hours learning everything I could about you. My longing grew and grew until I came to understand that I just couldn’t live without you.

At first I never mentioned you to my husband. In secret, I looked at photo after photo of you on the internet. I was sure that my husband would stand in our way. Gradually I came to understand that I could no longer live without you. My love for you grew exponentially with every new thing that I learned about you so that I became no better than a stalker! Finally, I brought your name up to my husband. He did not seem to mind that you had caught my eye, but he too thought the price would be too high. I tried to not think about you, but like an addict in need of a fix, I sought you out on the internet daily. I allowed my eyes to take in every detail of your beautiful body. I love your accessories. You are simply the whole package for me.

I had to have you, but the cost was so high that I wouldn’t allow my heart to linger long. But, today I learned something about you that I could not resist. I no longer wanted to resist. I just have to have you. I reached deep within to find the courage for the conversation that I knew I must have with my husband.

Tonight, I approached my husband and told him everything. I told him that I can no longer live without you in my life. His understanding and compassion were beyond my wildest dreams. He loves me so much that he is allowing me to pursue a relationship with you. I can have you and I can have you NOW! I rushed back to my computer to make the arrangements.

I can hardly wait!! I am giddy with happiness with the knowledge that I will actually be able to touch you in a few short days. I want to stroke you and examine every inch of you. I want to push all your buttons and turn you on. Ohhh…. I can hardly wait! Very soon, you will be mine. ALL MINE!!!

While I wait for your arrival, I am dreaming of how sweet you will make my life and my eyes will continue to adore you…


I’ll see you soon… Kiss, kiss…

Saturday, March 24, 2012


BFF 178

Sorry, but this will not be one of my happier posts.  I am troubled over the economy (and politics, but I won’t go there), so I need to vent just a little. 

There were no raises the last 2 years I worked. I was told recently that there have been none since then either. I don’t know for sure that is true, but was told by a former coworker, so I must believe it is true.  I retired over 3 years ago! At current gas prices, I would be spending $80 per week because my job was across town and as you can imagine, Orlando is a BIG city! I was spending $55-60 a week for gas and tolls when I retired. Now it would be $80 for gas alone. I assume the tolls are still $10 per week. I don't remember hearing any toll hikes on that expressway, but who knows. It is not an area of town I have any desire to visit now that I don't have to go there for my job.

When NAFTA was passed, I knew jobs would leave our country and that it would throw us into an economic crisis. I didn't understand why other people could not see what was coming. Part of the reason why I went ahead and retired early is because I was at a point where I was saving my whole pay check and I felt guilty for holding a position I really didn’t need when so many others were in need. By retiring early, I believed I was giving my slot to someone in need of a good job with benefits. I heard later that they simply took my duties and spread them among the remaining, already overworked, staff. Sheesh... I hope eventually someone was hired into that slot because in FL gov't, if a position is left open for any length of time, the watchdogs in the state capitol can take the position and put it to use elsewhere. Novice management personal often learned that little lesson the hard way!

I was delighted to hear that some employers are returning to US. I doubt it will repair the damage already done, but it’s a start.  I wish we could tax the hell out of imports from American companies overseas... I'm sure the greedy money bag sorts would disagree with me. I think it is so very important to our economy to keep American workers in jobs. Why did that escape the attention when NAFTA was being drafted? I know I'm not smarter than those who know how to make big money. So, I must assume that they knew and it was something to gain... like Congress and their "insider" trading, which is what it is... regardless of what they want to call it.

My heart hurts for all the people who have lost jobs and homes.  Yes…it is what it is.  I don’t feel like much is going to change until the politicians quit fighting, roll up their sleeves and get busy on the REAL problems in our nation.  But…I don’t see that happening any time soon and that IS WHAT IT IS…sadly…

I’ll let the “Fun Darlene” out of the box after I post this.  I already feel better.  Even if it is what it is….

Tuesday, March 20, 2012


BFF 176


Usually, I type lies… Well, that is what I call my fiction stories. Just allow me my little humor… OK? Any who… This story is a true story and I am the star character. That said ~ let me allow a peek into my ditzy world…

It was 1968 and I was newlywed. It was the year that one of my kitchen disasters became legend…

The kitchen was no strange place for me because it seemed that I had already been in the kitchen most of my life. As a small child, my Mom let me “help” bake cookies. Between us, she mixed, rolled the dough (with my help, of course), I cut, she baked and I ate cookies warm from the oven. Cakes were a little trickier, so Mom did most of it, but I always, with the assistance of my two sisters, helped clean the beaters and bowl…

My Mom was a wonderful cook and I was her most attentive fan. I watched everything my Mom did in the kitchen. By the age of 10, with Mom’s supervision, I was able to follow recipes, including the ability to measure correctly, whether dry, liquid or Crisco… By the age of 12, I was allowed free reign in the kitchen with only one rule…”Clean the kitchen when done”. My Dad LOVED the treats so lovingly baked by his oldest daughter.

I had no real interest in preparing a meal until I was about 14. Desserts were my specialty. One day, my parents were on a fishing trip and I decided that I would surprise them with a full course dinner. (Excuse me a minute while I get all this mirth out… hahahahaha… OK…back to the story). I pulled a nice beef roast from the freezer, then ran water on it to thaw. (SHUT UP!!! I WAS A MERE CHILD!!!) Well, we all know how that worked out. When about 1/8th inch depth was thawed, I decided to get started because I didn’t want dinner to be late and I was excited to show my parents that I could cook a complete meal. It would, after all, thaw in the pot. Right? So, I browned that frozen roast, then covered it in water. I just knew that I needed to boil it to both thaw and cook tender. (Yeah…more mirth…it’s good for my soul… SHUT UP! HAHAHA) Next, I peeled potatoes. Nice thin peels, just like Mom. I set them to boil in another pot. The veggie was easy…just opened a can. That is the one and only thing that my Mom did that I do not allow in my kitchen. No canned veggies for me!!! But, in Mom’s defense, she was a stay at home Mom and the budget was tight, so canned veggies it was. Ugh! I didn’t know any better because that is all I knew…then…

Well, back to the story… The potatoes were fluffy and perfectly mashed. I put a pinch of celery leaves here and there for appeal. The canned veggies were….well….canned veggies. Blah! The roast was on a platter, also decorated with sprigs of celery leaves while I whipped up the gravy. Homemade biscuits were arranged beautifully in the bread basket. All in all, the dinner looked delicious! And it was…except for that troublesome roast. It was like chewing leather. My Dad cut small pieces and complimented the cook. (He was such a great Dad!) My Mom was doing her best to encourage me that it wasn’t that bad, but I knew it was and I was sooo upset. Well, Mom was able to salvage that roast by returning to the pot, while explaining to me how to cook a perfect roast. THAT was my first kitchen disaster.

Back to 1968… My new husband was very pleased with my cooking prowess. He was so pleased that he invited more than 20 people to our first Thanksgiving dinner. Luckily, Mom cooked like she was going to feed a small army and I learned the same, so we had plenty for all. Shortly after Thanksgiving, he decided that he would invite his boss and his wife for dinner. He always did the inviting, and then told me after he had invited. Since it was his boss, he asked that I prepare something special. I poured over my cookbooks for just the perfect recipe. Ah ha! I found a recipe that looked fancy and was sure to impress. I went to work, following the recipe to a T. The recipe called for ground ham, which I promptly ground with my trusty old meat grinder. (Which I still have, BTW…)

I happily added the other ingredients, mixed well and put the mixture in a loaf pan to bake. I got the first hint that something wasn’t going as I planned when a familiar smell filled the kitchen. But, I continued to hope that I was wrong as I prepared the potatoes, gravy, biscuits and veggie dish. Finally, dinner was ready so I invited my husband and company to come to the dinner table. One bite of the meat dish confirmed all of my fears…I had prepared a giant SPAM!!! I was mortified. My husband and company were polite…that’s all… And, I have never lived down the fact that I made homemade SPAM for a fancy dinner… In fact, it is LEGEND… Nothing like candles, fine china and SPAM! LOL

Speaking of legend… I have one more. Hee hee… An intentional legend, if you will. My husband’s habit of inviting people to dinner began to get under my skin when his brothers began visiting around dinner time almost daily. One time, the guys were all in the backyard building a boat. My husband came into the house to ask me to fix enough lunch for all of them. By that time, I was pretty darned fed up with being the order chef, so I smiled sweetly until he returned to the backyard. Then I “prepared” lunch. I opened a can of pork ‘n beans and dumped it into a saucepan.  I sliced a couple of hot dogs into the beans, warmed and then called them in for dinner. I guess the look on my face must have warned them all that they better just shut up and eat it. And none of them said a single word except Mmmmm. LOL…my beans ‘n hotdog lunch for company is also legend…

Those were not my only kitchen disasters… There have been plenty. In fact, I had one just a couple of weeks ago that we shall not discuss unless it becomes legend…

Thursday, March 8, 2012



I was a farm kid in NY back in the late 40's and until 1958. Life was simple. We probably didn't have a lot of money, but we were rich in love. My two sisters and I got toys for Christmas and our birthdays. That was pretty much it. The rest of the year, if we had anything new, it was homemade. A cradle for a small doll made out of a Quaker Oats box, large buttons on a string that whirled when we twisted the string and lots of construction paper and glue projects. We were NOT spoiled in any way. But of all of my toys, one was the most special. Meet Mandi….

Mandi was my first doll. My Mother made Mandi out of an old pair of Dad's socks. I imagine money was tight because Mom was very pregnant with my sister when my first birthday arrived. So, with a lot of love, Mom cut, stitched and stuffed a doll for me. I don't remember, of course, but I've been told it was love at first sight!

I still have Mandi. She is almost 60. Somewhere along the way, she lost her eyesight (buttons) and got a few holes, but loved nonetheless. When she was 50, I decided maybe she would like to have a dress. After all, she had been naked for 50 years! So I stitched up a dress for her….

As you can see, the simplest toy can become a treasure! My Mom stitched and stuffed those old black socks - for the love for her child. She embroidered a mouth - added buttons for eyes – for the love for her child. Mom said I carried that doll everywhere and slept with her too. I don't remember that. I don't even remember naming her...she has simply always been Mandi. I don't remember that there was little money for a little farm baby's first birthday... But, I do look at that old doll and see the love of my Mother. Yes – I remember the LOVE.