An Open Letter To The Beanee Weenee Folks

Dear Beanee Weenee Folks,

First of all let me say that I have long been a big ol' Beanee Weenee fan. Packing 13 grams of protein and sealed in a flip-top can, (the size of which nestles nicely down in my saddle horn bags) I consider them the perfect trail food.

Recently, while shopping at a chain grocery store, (that I will refer to as "Lie-Lo") I made a discovery that got me in a snit, put my panties in a wad and made indignity rear it's ugly head. The Beanee Weenees had gone from eighty-five cents per can to $1.12!!! Mad I was! Mad as a hornet! (In case you didn't know, hornets get pretty mad)

So, there I was all snitty with wadded panties, and I made a decision to write an angry letter to you folks. I thought about telling you that, if you had gold beans and a platinum wienie, then and only then would I consider paying the price which Lie-Lo was asking. I was going to be mean and write all kinds of terrible things, but first I had to investigate and get all of my ducks in a row, because I like ducks in a row and I believe ducks like being in a row.

On my high horse I climbed. A consumer on a mission.

Well, the investigation ensued and what I found completely changed my tune and even unwadded my panties. (What a relief) For one thing I found Beanee Weenees at another store for $0.87 per can and that appeased me pretty good, but that doesn't have anything to do with my investigation.

After peeling the top off from the easy-open can, I poured the contents on a dinner plate. Surprising it was, when I lined up all of the wienie segments and had what looked like a whole wienie! There were actually thirteen wienie pieces and that made me happy, since I'm not the least bit superstitious. While I was pretty impressed with the wienie data, the best was yet to come. Upon completing the tedious task of counting beans, I was filled with shame for ever entertaining the thought of bashing your fine product. There was a grand total of one-hundred-ninety-nine beans in that one little can!

I have decided that Beanee Weenees are a deal at any price! That being said, I'm going to wash the nasty taste of crow out of my mouth with a can of pleasingly delectable Beanee Weenees.

Very Truly Yours,
Cindy Guiton

P.S. I've never squeezed that many animal euphemisms in one letter before.

My Loaded Bucket

For whatever reason, I woke in the middle of the night and began thinking about what I might put on my bucket list. I thought and I thought, but drew nothing but a blank. My fear of heights prevents me from listing things like sky diving, bungee-jumping and parasailing, and my lack of enthusiasm where foreign countries are concerned prevents me from listing a lot of other things.

Rather than a list of things I haven't done, what formed in my mind was a list of things that I have done. It blew me away.

First and foremost, I am the mother of two great children who (in spite of me) turned out to be really good people. Granted, the things I am mentioning in this paragraph are not really what people put on a list of things they would want to do before they die, but this is MY blog and I'll mention whatever I choose. I have two really cool step-children. It's so nice when your step-kids tell you that they love you and you believe them! There are six awesome grandchildren sprinkled in the mix, too.

As for my life experiences, I have:

• been snow, water and jet-skiing as well as snowmobiling.
• gone whitewater rafting.
• sat on Virginia Beach and ate ice cream with all three of my sisters.
• driven the longest bridge in the world, Lake Pontchartrain Causeway. (24 miles)
• driven the Mackinac Bridge. (one of the worlds longest suspension bridges)
• driven the old Sunshine Skyway Bridge in Florida.
• seen buffalo, bear, moose and elk in the wild.
• chased a bull while riding a horse. (tequila courage)
  
• visited Niagara Falls several times.
• been at Mt. Rushmore twice.
• watched in awe as the Northern Lights danced in the sky.
• been on Mt. Mitchell. (the highest peak in NC.)
• played a bass drum in the worlds longest parade. (Detroit 1976)
  
• looked out over the Badlands in South Dakota.
• watched the sun rise over the Atlantic and watched it set on the Gulf of Mexico and Lake Michigan.
• driven on Daytona Beach.
• seen the Rolling Stones in concert, twice.
• ridden my horse on the highest peak in Virginia.
• looked at actual Revolutionary war bullet holes in the Old North Church.
  
• driven much of the Blueridge Parkway.
• literally had my breath taken away by the beauty of the Rocky Mountains.
• bought a coffee cup on Pikes Peak. (after 33 years...I'm still drinking coffee out of that cup)
• had my picture taken by Plymouth Rock.
• seen Tina Turner in concert. She put on an AWESOME show!
• almost gotten caught peeing on the Appalachian Trail.

The last one is not one of my finer moments, but (in my defense) I didn't even realize that I was on the Appalachian Trail at the time. I sought cover behind a boulder and found what looked like a deer path. Thankfully, the bandanna-wearing dog emerged before the hikers.

Spinach-Ranch Pizza Half-Assed Acres Ranch Style

Nothin' we like better here at The Half-Assed Acres Ranch, than some spinach-ranch pizza. It's quick, it's easy and it'll make your taste buds do si do and promenade all over your mouth!

If you're one of those people who has no imagination and has to have exact measurements, then don't waste your time reading any farther. We run a "fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants" operation around here. Sometimes a little chaotic, but it works.

This time I used 9 inch tortillas, because that's what I happened to have in the refrigerator. Even though you only see two in the pics, I actually made three, because the two of us eat like hogs. Suppertime is never pretty at our house.

Rub your baking sheet lightly with oil and lay on the tortillas. Drizzle on the ranch dressing and spread it around with a fork, your fingers or whatever. You vegans and vegetarians might like to try sweet vidalia onion dressing and you can figure out what else to do in order to make the pizza to fit your lifestyle. Load on the spinach leaves! You'll notice that I just piled them on rather than arranging them perfectly, because that's how I roll. If you happen to be a big, prissy, sissy then feel free to arrange them in any fashion you like.

Drain a small can of sliced black olives (a little over 2 ounces) along with a small can of mushrooms and distribute over the spinach. For me a little chopped up left-over chicken served as another nice topping.

Pile on the cheese! No such thing as too much cheese! I used whatever part-skim mozzarella I had along with some kind of 4-cheese Mexican blend. (even though I seriously doubt that the Mexicans had much to do with it) Sometimes I add some Parmesan on top, but I didn't do that this time.

Sprinkle garlic powder over the top and stick them in a 350 degree oven. I think I baked mine for about 20 minutes, but to be perfectly honest, I had had several drinks by the time I put them in the oven and I even had a couple more while they were baking. I guess you can understand why I forgot to keep close track of the baking time. Besides, if you're too stupid to be able to tell when they're done, you probably shouldn't be using an oven in the first place.

Well! Well! Lookie here! I actually remembered to take a picture of the finished product! (when I woke up this morning I was trying to remember if I had gotten a pic after I took them out of the oven)

A little side note: I meant to buy fresh mushrooms, but I forgot. That's why I used the canned mushrooms which were fine, because (around here) we embrace all things half-assed.

Eggs Over-Medium With Love

He likes them scrambled and wouldn't even consider eating any runny yolk. I like them over-medium, but we usually just have scrambled. Easier. Saves time.

I tend to be a little critical. Something that I've noticed about myself and I'm working on that unflattering habit.

So, I bit my tongue this morning when he was frying my over-mediums at a temperature that was clearly too high. I made this conscious effort, because I love him.

While I was eating, it occurred to me that he had prepared eggs that turn his stomach, because he loves me. Enough said.

No. There is one more thing. Those were the best eggs I've ever had.

Counting Sheep Is So Bahahahahd!!! (just like that joke)

How do I lose sleep? Let me count the ways:

1. Hot flashes. There I am snoozing, snuggled under a quilt in my nice, cool bedroom...... when...DING! DING! DING! DING! There's a four alarm fire going on inside my body! Off goes the quilt and I lay, sprawled across the bed to cool down. Before long I begin to snooze again, only to wake up, because I'm shivering in the cold. Big fight with the dog to get my quilt back.


2. I accidentally hang a foot or a hand over the edge of the bed. Anytime an extremity is hanging over the edge of the bed....it just freaks me out! You may find that a little silly, but the fact is: that creature has been living under my bed for 51 years and I doubt that he's going anywhere soon.

3. It's 2:00 AM! For whatever reason 2:00 AM is the magical hour, when I wake and begin to think about things. Things like: what I'll fix for supper that night, anything I may have said that made me look like a dumbass, wonder if I set the alarm, wonder if I set the coffee pot, anything and everything that has pissed me off over the past 30 years, etc.......

4. The dog has nightmares. I wake to soothe her and tell the poor baby that everything is alright.

5. Husband has nightmares. Something is always after him. This starts out with a little moaning and rapidly escalates to hideous screeching and flailing arms. I am jolted awake with a rush of adrenaline, begin screaming at him as I get into "defense mode" protecting my face and head from his large, out-of-control arms. The other night a "big cat" was after him. The dog, who had been asleep on the couch, ran in to see about the commotion. The husband apologized to the dog for waking her up. Here's a confession: Several years ago Mr. Something's-After-Me had pissed me off before we went to bed. As luck would have it, he began having one of "those" nightmares. I slid out of arms reach and whispered, (over and over) "It's gonna gitcha."


6. Husband has to roll over. Imagine me in the middle of a good dream, a really good dream, I mean a REALLY good dream! (Sorry. No juicy dream details. It's my dream) Now, imagine a six foot long, 230 pound fish lying on it's back, right next to me in bed. The fish begins thrashing violently, making odd noises, eventually coming to rest on it's side. So much for my REALLY good dream. Dammit! After a while I drift off to sleep and have nightmares about being stabbed in the stomach with a dorsal fin.

His Pain In The Back Is My Pain In The.....

I pulled in the driveway Wednesday evening and there was my husband heading toward the barn. He was doing some slow, pathetic, Igor-like shuffle. (right foot step, left foot drag) As I approached him from the back he did a gradual full-body turn to face me. I was half expecting to see both of his arms dangling limply in front of him, but I wasn't that lucky. Igor said that he had hurt his back while hauling off the trash.

Once the animals were fed and we had returned to the house, he lost his ability to move without screaming like a little girl, which caused the dog to worry. He needed help to sit. He needed help to stand. He needed snacks. He needed the TV remote. He needed the phone. He needed a pillow. He needed something to drink. I needed something to DRINK!!! Life is never easy for me when Igor suffers an injury.

Thursday morning I left him propped up on one end of the couch, with the phone, remote and a cup of coffee, all within easy reach. I rushed off to squeeze in an hour and a half of work before returning to take him to the doctor. Unfortunately, patients is not at all a virtue that I possess. We were already going to be late for the appointment and it was taking forever and a day to get him loaded into the truck. I used every bit of restraint that I could muster to refrain from cramming him the rest of the way into the seat in order to slam the door! During our five mile commute every bump in the road was met with either whimpering, or some high pitched, not-of-this-Earth sound. It just seems weird when a big, deep-voiced man suddenly sings soprano.

When we entered the doctors office I felt my irritation steadily rise as the receptionist, who has always been unfriendly and short with me, suddenly become bubbly and chatty when Igor shuffled through the door. I managed to smile and chat along with her, only because it was satisfying to visualize my fist connecting with her mouth. It was also amusing to imagine the look on her face if she only knew how many octaves Igor's voice could climb.

A shot in the back and some high-powered pain medication seemed to provide a miraculous recovery that night, but Friday morning brought more shuffling and more shrieking. It is now Saturday morning, he says that he thinks his back is getting worse, and I have begun eating his pain pills. Why do I keep picturing him hopping up from the couch, sprinting to the refrigerator and (upon hearing my key unlocking the door) resuming the Igoresque stance?

The day after the injury was sustained, I asked him if he was he was tossing one of the really heavy bags of trash into the dumpster and twisted his back as he did so. No. That wasn't what happened. He got hurt while gathering the bag from the bathroom wastebasket....... Think I'll indulge in another pain killer!

I'm Just A Stupid Girl!

One Saturday, when I was working the part time country convenience store job, a slightly scruffy looking, late 20's early 30's couple came in and headed toward the automotive supplies. After a minute or two the man started walking back in the direction of my post behind the counter and said, "Do you have any...." (took one look at me) "Oh, you wouldn't know." It has always amazed me to think a person would make assumptions about what I do or do not know just by seeing my face. I've often wondered if I had a "STUPID" tattoo on my forehead that was only visible to others. I was pretty sure that (in his shallow mind) my lack of a penis severely hindered my ability to answer his question. Despite the fact that I am just a stupid girl, I figured I would humor him a little and find out what it was that I couldn't possibly have known. This is how the conversation went:

Me: What are you looking for?

Scruffy Moron: I need some 2 in1 oil.

Me: You mean 3 in1 oil?

SM: Yeah. That's what I need.

(I take him and the lucky little lady over to the 3 in 1 oil and hand him a can)

SM: No, I need the oil that you mix with gas for a chainsaw.

Me: You want two-cycle engine oil.

SM: Yeah. That's what I want.

To the other end of the isle we went, I handed him the oil and (unable to stop myself) sweetly said, "For a chainsaw you need to mix 2 1/2 ounces of oil per gallon of gasoline, but if you're going to put the saw through heaver than normal use, you might want to use 3 1/2 ounces of oil instead. The saw will smoke a little more and you will loose a little power, but it will keep the engine better lubricated." Resisting the urge to finish it up with, "You ignorant A-hole!" He just mindlessly nodded his head. Another satisfied customer.

Twenty some years ago a wise man told me that he admired my ability to use diplomacy in order to tell someone to go to Hell without them even realizing it until an hour or so later. I'm still at it, John.

Thoughts ~ Some Serious Some Not So

Call: 1-800-IHAVEISSUES Listen to the instructions for leaving a message, which are something like, "Leave a message after the tone", then wait until after the tone to hang up without leaving a message, because you are a total idiot!!!

It annoys me to no end to see people staring down at their feet while they're walking. I mean REALLY are they admiring their shoes or what? Yet, I can't stop watching, because (secretly) I'm hoping they will run head first into something and I wouldn't want to miss that.

I bristle whenever I hear anyone use the word "retarded." (I hate it as much as I hate the "N" word) At one time it was a clinical term and then it became a derogatory term. Regardless the context, it is a word that should be stricken from our vocabularies.

The older I get the more selfish I am with my time.

Recently, two of my friends and I laughed until we cried. It felt SO good!

I love that odd sensation that comes from picking something up that you think is going to be heavy (but it's really not) so your arm and the object, go flying up into the air.

Every spring I get the gardening fever and have grandiose illusions of a lush vegetable garden, but then it gets really hot, I get really lazy and everything goes to Hell in a hand-basket.

This one will make the women jealous and the men say, "EEWWWW!" I don't have to shave my legs all winter long and you can't even TELL! I only shave in the summer, because the breeze blows the little hairs around and tickles my legs. Warm weather is just around the corner...time to sharpen the straight razor.

I believe that when someone tells you they have had no regrets in life, they're either lying to you or lying to themselves. Regrets are a part of life. We all have them. Shut up!

I'm pretty sure that people, who don't appreciate animals, suffer from some sort of mental disorder.

Is a green arrow just too much for some people to contemplate? "Oh, green. I know that means 'Go', but its pointing to the left! What am I supposed to DO???"

I'm pretty sure there are a lot of people who think I'm a nicer person than I really am.

I wish I had a "pause" button to stop conversations when I'm getting really pissed off, because several hours later I can think of the best come-backs!

I find myself worrying too much about things that don't matter and too little about things that do. I think the latter is a defense mechanism allowing me to hold on to what tiny shred of sanity I have left.

I'm sort of like a chameleon, in the respect that I can blend in with people from all walks of life. I used to think it was a gift, but more and more I wonder if it's just an indication of what a phony I really am.

It's irritating when someone calls me a cowgirl just because I ride a horse. So,I tell them that I always wanted to be a cowgirl, but I can't be one because my horse is afraid of cows.

Whenever I see a vehicle with one of those "How's my driving? Call 1-800-whatever" signs, I want to call and say something like, "I've never witnessed such incredible driving! AMAZING! Where did you find this guy? Does he give lessons? Never failed to use his signals, came to a full stop at all stop signs, very skillful at merging AND he knew exactly what to do at a green arrow!"

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love The Most (or) Why E-bay Should Offer Free Anger Management

As a little girl I longed for two things: 1. a horse and 2. a Raggedy Ann doll. Neither of which were to become a part of my childhood reality. In retrospect, I can fully understand why horse ownership was not a feasible dream for me. For one thing my parents didn't own enough land to support the needs of a horse, and for another, nobody in the family had a clue how to properly care for one. Sure, it's easy to see why poor little Cindy was not allowed the opportunity to glide through fields full of wildflowers on a sunny summer day, perched upon a shiny black stallion, her hair blowing back in the breeze. (all in slow motion - of course) No. For my parents, fulfilling the "horse" dream was simply not possible. BUT, to deny me the companionship of Raggedy Ann??? We didn't have a lot of money, but SURELY, SOMEHOW, SOMEWAY they could have gotten their mitts on that coveted fabric fantasy of mine!

Anyway, I shoved my unrealized yearnings to the far back corners of my mind and before I knew it I was forty-one years old. And it was in my 41st year that I met a man, who I would later marry. Guess what! He had a HORSE!!! And before long I had a horse of my very own. Along with that horse came all of the gliding through fields full of wildflowers, hair blowing back in the breeze stuff.  Well, when Christmas came that year, I found myself shopping for a present for my  true Love's 3 year old granddaughter. Browsing through the toy store, without any idea of what to buy for little Hannah, I turned down an isle full of dolls and there before my eyes were two beauties with flaming red hair!  One for Hannah and one for ME!!!  Now, I like nothing more than to point out a good "morel of the story" whenever there is one. So, the morel of the story is: Good things come to those who wait.
For almost a decade my cherished Annie sat on a folk-artsy wooden rocking horse. That is until the other day when the horse suffered a broken leg (rocker) in a freak "husband tripping over it" accident. Poor Annie was rendered horseless. Her smile even seemed to fade a bit and thus served as a reminder of poor, horseless little Cindy. It just broke my heart!  What was I to do?  Woe is me.  Woe is Annie. Then it hit me...e-bay! The answer was obvious.  Surely, I could find a rocking horse, suitable for Annie's needs, on e-bay! 

The search began and after about an hour of looking at plastic rocking horses, wooden rocking horses and even rocking horses with tails missing, there it was! The perfect horse for my perfect doll was a buckskin (natural wood finish) with a flaxen mane and dowel handles sticking out from each side of his head. A less sleek version of her last steed, but what made him an even better fit for Annie was the fact that his saddle was wider and thus would keep her centered rather than slumped over to one side and looking as though she was riding all liquored-up.
Bidding on e-bay is a game in which you don't want to show your hand too soon. In other words, just because an item has obtained zero bids does NOT mean that no one has their eye on it. They could be lying in wait to bid at the last possible second to grab it up at the lowest price. (which was exactly what I was going to do to get my Annie a new ride) The time for the bid ending was near. I positioned myself in front of my computer screen, fingers on the keyboard, and.....then.....it.....happened.....out-bid!!! Someone (much quicker than myself) had swooped in and scarfed up Annie's new dream horse! The NERVE!!! Several obscenities escaped between clenched teeth as I slammed the keyboard drawer back. Stomping through the living room I went, mumbling some not-so-nice things about whoever that jackass of a horse thief was, when she caught my eye.  There on the bookshelf sat my beloved Annie, looking at me through her button eyes and smiling that wonderful smile, as though all was right with the world........I punched her square in the face.






...and that, Folks, is why ebay should offer free anger management!