Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Going Green. Finally.

I couldn't be happier to report that after one of the worst weather years on record, the farm is finally alive again!

The grass is growing, the lake is full (after being completely dried up on our end) and new calves are popping out left and right.

The grass had gotten so tall in the yard of the farmhouse that we opened the gate and let in some of the cows to "eat it down" a bit before The Chief mowed it.

A great time was enjoyed by all.

The lake looks great and the birds are flocking back  (get it? flocking?). Anyhoo. It's so nice to see the pelicans visiting again.

This egret was trying to get the best view of the lake. As you can see, we did lose some very old, beautiful trees to the drought. So sad.

Buzzards are always attracted to dead trees. Very apropos, don't you think?

The overall consensus, though, is that green is good.

Dead and dry are out.

It even almost makes the evil Mesquite trees look kind of pretty. At least until The Chief gets after them with a chain saw and some poison.

Soon, I'll bring you a photo line-up of all our new little calves.

But it may take me a while to find them all.

Have a great Spring day!


Friday, March 23, 2012

I Bet You Thought B Would Be For Bull

Although somewhere along the way Winter forgot to show up, now they're saying it's Spring. No one seems to care that I still have long sleeved blouses that I have yet to wear.
What up?

Anyway I suppose it's time for some Springtime ABC's.

A is for Allergies - There are all these sweet poems and stuff about Spring and it's gentleness and lightness and yet I all hear around me is hacking and coughing.

B is for Basil - I have to plant some every year and this year I'm trying the regular Sweet Basil and a Purple Globe type. It always grows like gangbusters and because I hate to waste , it turns up in everything around here from homemade pizza to pesto. Sometimes I make bad choices and put it in things I shouldn't, but then The Chief threatens to go out and cut it all down if I don't cease and desist.

C is for Chopped Salad - I made the best one just a few nights ago. Chop some iceberg lettuce, red bell pepper (or orange or yellow), some purple onion, a nice ripe avocado, some blue cheese, and a few toasted pecans and stir it all together. Toss it with a nice tangy vinaigrette. Yum.

D is for Double Knots - Is it just me or have they started making all shoe laces on tennis/athletic shoes out of some material that will not stay tied. For the last couple of years I've had to tie double knots or I'm tripping all over myself. I know it can't be because I'm faster and more active...

E is for Ezekiel - A nice name, a prophet, and I believe the guy who saw the wheel. Way up in the middle of the air. A wheel in a wheel.

F is for Flea - I hear that they predict this summer will be bad for fleas. Or good for fleas, whichever way you want to look at it. Because we had so little cold weather they should be numerous. Weegie has already requested an extra dose of preventative, and has been setting little traps out in the yard.

G is for Grass - With all of the recent rain and warm weather, the grass is going haywire. I think I've mentioned before how many times I've almost expired while mowing the lawn. Ugh.

H is for Hoyas- I just watched North Carolina State beat the Hoyas of Georgetown a few days ago. An upset. And did you know that a Hoya is actually a shrub? But the Hoyas of Georgetown  don't have anything to do with shrubs. They have more to do with stone walls and Latin and Greek and really it's all very confusing, but I suppose more fun than yelling "What Rocks!"

I is for Iris - The wild iris in my side yard are blooming for the very first time since we moved into this house. They're a beautiful, deep purple.

J is for Jonquil - The quintessential Springtime flower. Whatever you do DO NOT mistake a daffodil for a Jonquil. Sheesh. I thought you people knew better. A jonquil is quite fragrant, while a daffodil is not. A daffodil has only one flower per stem while a jonquil usually has multiple blooms on a stem. I just hate it for people when they stumble and misidentify one or the other. But I suppose we're all human.

K is for Kebab - As in Shish. Please reference my last post about the Hike.

L is for Lamb - The traditional springtime/Easter meal offering. Do y'all cook lamb? Me, not so much. I think I need to try it this year.

M is for March Madness- And sadly, just for plain old mad like I was last night when I realized that the basketball tournament that never ends pre-empted my very favorite show Person of Interest. I got over it, but really, don't mess with my show.

N is for New York City - I'm going next week! I haven't allowed myself much time to think about it yet, because that would mean that I might need to actually do something like pack or plan or panic.
And while I'm really bad at those first two, I am a pro at the last one, so I think I'll just start there...

O is for Orange - The color and the fruit. Orange is the In Shade for spring. You see it everywhere. Most of it they're calling coral but that's just a fancy cover-up for orange. And yours truly now has her very own orange tree to go along with my Meyer lemon tree. You can call me Minute Maid.

P is for Pomegranate - I'm telling you, these things are turning up everywhere. In juice blends, sorbets, candles. I've been thinking I need to get a Pomegranate tree for my own personal use. But I know they're supposed to be really, really messy and attract lots of varmints and heaven knows we do not need that. Weegie sends out engraved invitations to all the skunks in the South Texas region on a monthly basis. And the raccoons had some kind of rally just off the patio last week. We are already all scheduled up with varmints.

Q is for quintessential- Please use that in a sentence today. It will make you smarter. And then it will make you wonder if you used it correctly.

R is for Rabbit - Springtime means bunnies. Bunnies mean springtime. Weegie chases rabbits ergo Weegie chases Spring.

S is for Sandals - It's time y'all. But first a pedicure, puh-leez..

T is for Topanga - I used to love to watch Boy Meets Girl. But how many people are named Topanga? Or Equatorial Guinea for goodness sakes? Really. So unbelievable.

U is for Utility Vehicle- We call ours The Mule. I absolutely love to take a ride at the farm in The Mule with The Chief and Weegie around sunset. Really, one of my favorite things ever. The lovely spring weather just makes it better.

V is for Vivacious - I'm going to try to be more vivacious. Until the temperatures reach into the 100's, then I'll just flat-out give up.

W is for White - Can I wear all my favorite white blouses now without breaking any fashion rules? I know, I know there's the allowable Winter White but to be perfectly honest I've never been completely able to spot Winter White when he's lined up right beside Spring, Summer, and Fall White. It's all kind of a big white blur to me.

X is for Xylophone - Spring, Summer, Fall,Winter.

Y is for Yodel - It seems kind of Spring-y to stand on the side of a mountain and yodel, don't you think?

Z is for Zeal - Springtime always ignites our passion, intensity, and zest for life! Another Z! The fun never ends.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I Always Enjoy A Nice Helicopter Ride, Just Not Necessarily While Strapped Onto A Stretcher

I heard once that some people go on vacation to rest.
They sleep late, they dawdle around in their luxurious accommodations, sip pretty drinks on their balconies and then they go eat at a wonderful restaurant.

End of day.

I even happen to know some people myself personally who go on vacation to shop, have massages, manicures and pedicures and fancy treatments on their skin.

They put lemon slices on their middle-age dark under-eye circles.

I do not live with those people.

When our two sons met us in Santa Fe last week, the conversation about what we wanted to do over the next several days went something like this...

Me: "I would love to go shopping."

The Chief and The Boys (TCTB): " We have to go on a hike. A good one. We could do the trail up at White Rock down to the Rio Grande, it's pretty easy. Not sure about The Weege though, do you think he would make it OK? His legs are pretty short. Oh he'll be fine - if he has problems we can just lift him up or down. It's only about a 2 hour thing. There are some springs and ponds on the way down that he could swim in and cool off.

Oldest Son: "That's the one I took a bunch of kids on when I was working at the camp- they all made it OK. Eventually."

Me: "Wait. Is it really steep or anything." I don't do steep very well. Remember, I don't rappel. I don't get strapped to ropes, and I don't do anything that requires the use of the terms handhold or foothold.

And I would love to go shopping."

TCTB: "Mom/Lu, Seriously. You can go shopping anywhere. We've got to get out and enjoy the beauty, the great weather.
OK that's decided, White Rock it is."

Me: "Is it steep?"

The drive to White Rock was pretty and this was the view from the start of the trail.

Not too bad. Although what I couldn't see was that not too far down there is what the boys like to call an optical illusion and I like to call a sheer cliff.

Like we had only been walking about 5 minutes and I was having to sit down and lower myself from rock to rock.

And it was at this point that Oldest Son began a series of proclamations in which he declared "Don't worry Mom, this is absolutely the steepest part."

He said this every 10 minutes for the next 4 hours.

Overall, I made it OK but not great going down. I just stayed behind everyone else and took my time, but I couldn't help but notice that my balance seemed way off. The Chief even remarked on my wobbly-ness.

And all that worry about The Weege?

Turns out he is 1/2 Mountain Goat. He would actually run ahead with Youngest Son (yes, running) and then they would sit and wait for me...
(Both of the boys live in New Mexico and hike at higher altitudes all the time.)

Near the bottom (where you finally reach the Rio grande) there are some great little streams and a pond with a waterfall where we rested for a while.

Weegie was having the time of his life.

Every time he saw water he had to get in.

Young Son was ready to head back up after just a few minutes rest.

Oldest Son stuck his feet in the really cold water while Weegie made another lap.

The Chief checking out the waterfall.

Just a small one, but pretty nonetheless.

After a brief rest we walked just a bit farther and there was the Rio Grande.

You might be able to see The Chief and Sons way down there. Somewhere along the way, we entered a field which was covered in stickers and after the boys spent about 15 minutes pulling 100's out of Weegie's feet, they went farther downstream with Weege to avoid the field. I, on the other hand, took the absolute shortest route.

Really. What's a few stickers when you're practically dead anyway?

Now it was time to head back up. It only took a minute or two of ascent (that's a fancy climbing word for going straight up) for me to realize that something wasn't quite right.

I was not quite right.

I would look at my foot and tell it to take a step up, but somewhere in translation/encryption the message that was apparently sent to my foot was more along the lines of " You stay right where you are and pretend you are a heavy anvil, and while you're at it kind of shake like some jello."


The trip back up was supposed to take about an hour. It took about 2 1/2.  Oldest Son blamed the meltdown on my lack of water intake on the first part of the hike, so I was forced to drink huge quantities on the return.

I could (with the aid of a walking stick) climb for about 3-5 minutes before I had to stop and sit or even lay down. The Chief stayed behind me the whole way with one hand on my back.

There was some serious talk at one point of a helicopter. And then a very long conversation between the 3 guys about cutting some long branches and sticking them down through the legs of my jeans (oh yes, while I was still wearing them)  to fashion a crude gurney-type thing and then dragging me the rest of the way up.

Kind of like a shish-kebab.

I think there was some laughter involved here, but I was delirious, so I can't be sure.

I picked out several places on the way up where I begged them to just leave me. I would be happy to just die there. It was, after all, very pretty.

But, long story short. They didn't leave me, I made it, and the diagnosis was altitude sickness.

And all that baloney I've been throwing out lately about going to Zumba and Pilates and getting in shape?

It looks like I'm a Big Fat Liar.

And while Weegie is 1/2 Mountain Goat?

Turns out I'm at least 3/4 Beached Sea Walrus.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

No Need to Call the Orkin Man

I love insects. Is that weird?

It started way back when I was a kid and we slept out on the porch at the farm. The lightnin' bugs (and for you fancy/city folk that's what I call fireflies) would fly all around my cot and if I was lucky one would land on my arm or leg.

Or once, in my mouth. But I don't want to talk about it.

Anyway, my fascination with the insect world got even stronger when I took my first Entomology course in college. Have you ever looked at a butterfly wing? Or the multiple eyes of a fly? The awesome metallic sheen of a dung beetle?  How could I not be in love?

My college roommate Shir ( Hey Shir!) can tell you all about the semester I had to make a 200 specimen insect collection which occupied the top of my desk in our tiny dorm room for months. She was (and still is) nothing short of a saint.

And we're still BFF's!!!!

I was the strange girl asking people not to squash the next roach they saw or to try to catch the earwig they found in the shower. I was spotted several times on the golf course at Texas A&M at about sunset with a large insect net and a kill jar.

This is not the way to become popular in college. Trust me.

Now that I think about it, I didn't have one single date that semester.


But as much as I complained about having to locate not only one, but four different species of Hymenoptera, about having to "re-euthanize" insects that I thought were dead and had already pinned and added to my collection only to be awakened at 3 am by the sound of little insect legs and wings struggling to escape the large pin through their thorax,  I was hooked.

Plain and simple, I liked bugs.

Except roaches. I don't now and have never liked roaches.

And all of God's people said Amen.

(But let's be clear, the true bugs are only members of Order Hemiptera. We just loosely use the term "bug" to refer to all insects. This practice is frowned upon in the World of Entomology.)

I can't tell you how many times The Chief has yelled "Lu, come here quick, you'll want to see this" when he has come across an interesting insect in the yard or the garage or at the farm. He always gives me the option of examining a great specimen before he squashes it or relocates it.

He even risked imprisonment in an African country to smuggle this home to me...

How sweet is that?

And then also one time he brought back several larvae of the flesh-boring (African) Human Bot Fly in his suitcase. To his credit, though, that was not intentional and was totally an accident.

And grossed me out to no end.

Sorry, no pictures of that one.

But then, years ago he bought me this in Paris...

Better than a bot fly.

And last week in Santa Fe he got me this...

I love it!

After all these years, the man still knows what makes my heart go thumpety-thump!


Monday, March 19, 2012

Excuse Me While I Grab Some Soap and Hoist Myself Onto a Box

Doesn't this look good?

It was. Scrumptious, in fact. I'll tell you more about it in a minute.  First I need to wail and gnash my teeth. Doesn't that sound like something you're dying to read more about? It will only take me a minute. I promise. Then I'll get to the good stuff.


I'm not a food snob. Really, I'm not.

Some of the tastiest and most memorable foods I've ever enjoyed have been served on butcher paper, wrapped in foil, or eaten outside under the trees at the Lost Prairie Cemetery Memorial.

My food doesn't need to be expensive, rare, or difficult to prepare. I could care less about the number of ingredients in a restaurant dish, whether the chef has a James Beard award, or if the tablecloth is white linen, plastic, or non-existent.

I'm not insistent on organic, but do tend to choose organic and local ingredients when they are available and reasonably priced. I have junk food and chips in my pantry right now and a major love of my life is The Cheez-it.

I am totally addicted to an artificially flavored and artificially sweetened diet drink.

I Heart TAB.

So, I in no way mean to offend anyone when I say there's a gosh-darn awful lot of bad food out there.

Surely I am not the only one who has noticed.

Most of you know by now that I've been on a little vacation. We traveled to Santa Fe and were joined by our two sons (each on their own Spring Break from grad school).  It was great, and I have so much to share that I just had to get this whole bad food experience thing out of the way right up front to free my mind to think of other more pleasant, you know, happy things.

First, to be perfectly clear, the bad food experience did not occur in Santa Fe. Santa Fe happens to have some of the best and freshest food around. It happened on our trip over. And since I'm not a food critic and have absolutely no authority or expertise or anything even remotely professional about my person (I don't even have a badge, y'all), I won't even reveal the town or the name of the restaurant to which I refer. I'm not here to bash that particular restaurant.

In case you haven't noticed, bad food is everywhere.


I know that a lot of people are not cooks. They don't like to cook and that's fine. I don't like to sew, paint, or do anything even remotely crafty. Crafty things give me the heebie-jeebies. We all have our own thing. It can be a struggle for people who work hard all day to come home and whip up a healthy, tasty meal for their family. Believe me. I've been there and I love to cook. But when you're tired and exhausted and have some picky eaters to contend with it's hard to channel Julia Child.

Or Betty Crocker or even The Pillsbury Doughboy (although I do a pretty awesome imitation)

So I understand.

But.  If you are going out to eat and paying for not only the ingredients in the actual food you'll eat, but also the service and the overhead and the electricity bill for the restaurant and all, I think we all like to hope that those folks in charge of planning, preparing, and serving our meals would at least care.

That they'd care about the quality and the taste and the service and the experience of each and every diner in their establishment.

That the food they served was not all frozen or out of a can or prepared in a microwave. That the floors in their restaurant were clean and the plates and utensils were washed.

But here's the thing. There's always going to be bad food. Bad restaurants. I can't change that. But what I can do is make sure I only patronize those places that make an effort to serve real food.  Food that is fresh and well-cooked. Not purchased in huge frozen quantities at SAMS and then zapped in a metal box until it's hot.

Why would I go to a restaurant and pay inflated prices for something I (and almost anyone else) could do just as well and certainly cheaper at home?

Therefore and forever in conclusion I would like to encourage you to take some time and find out about the restaurants in your area. Do they use fresh (and even local) ingredients? Do they make their own breads, sauces, or desserts? Do they have chefs (or cooks) that personally prepare the dishes to order or are they heating up previously prepared foods and calling them their own?

I don't think it's too much to ask, do you?


I'm done.

I'm sorry you had to hear all that.

Now for that tasty looking sandwich at the top. It's the Cuban Sandwich from a quirky place in Santa Fe called  Tune Up Cafe (click on the name).  It's one of our absolute favorites and a trip to Santa Fe isn't complete without at least one meal there.

Or four.

It's not fancy. At all. As a matter of fact, no one even batted an eye when one of my sons carried a large piece of plexiglass right through the outdoor eating area (porch) when he moved it from one of our vehicles to another while we waited for our food.

Or when I asked the owner again if I could pretty-please buy his restaurant...

Did not bat an eye.

But the food's real. And really good.

I'll go back again and again. You should too.

I'll have more on some other great Santa Fe restaurants in my posts this week.

Until then... Eat Well!

Oh. And I missed y'all.


Saturday, March 17, 2012

Hey Y'all. Remember Me?

I just wanted to make sure that  y'all didn't begin to think I'd been kidnapped. Or lost. Or been placed in the witness protection program.

Although I always thought that last one might be kind of exciting. Of course, without the crime and fear and chance of being killed that's usually involved.

No. I've been on vacation. And it's been a great one that involved me, The Chief, our boys, our Mountain Goat we like to call The Weege, some cows, some mountains, lots of awesome food, a near emergency on a cliff, a bug bracelet, a mountain man, and being reminded of how awful I am at Trivial Pursuit.

Who could possibly know that much about Utah? And presidential assassinations?

And also who won an Oscar in 1952?

Without the help of The Google, of course.

Anyhoo, thanks for checking on me and I'll have some new posts coming up that will have you on the edge of your seats.

Or possibly falling asleep-I guess it depends on how exciting your life has been lately.

Anything I need to know?

See you soon!


Sunday, March 11, 2012

A New Favorite

The Houston Chronicle recently ran an article on a new cookbook, Texas Eats: The New Lone Star Heritage Cookbook by Robb Walsh. Although I was intrigued by what I read, I was busy and didn't make an effort to go out and find the book immediately (as I am want to do with almost every new cookbook I hear about).
A few days after reading the article, I happened to spot the book quite by accident in SAM'S.  Knowing that it was priced a few dollars off the regular price enticed me to buy it right then and there.

I'm so glad I was enticed.

Robb Walsh is a veteran of the Texas food scene.

Here's a link...

"A three-time James Beard award winner, he is the author of five previous Texas cookbooks. A former restaurant reviewer for the Houston Press and the Austin Chronicle, Walsh currently co-owns a Tex-Mex restaurant in Houston with chef Bryan Caswell. Walsh is a co-founder and board member of Foodways Texas, the mission of which is to preserve, promote, and celebrate the diverse food cultures of Texas."

I love a cookbook that reads like a book- one that shares not only the recipes for the featured foods, but also traces the history of the foods and more importantly shares the stories of the people behind the recipes. His delivery is anecdotal, entertaining, and at the same time enormously informative.

There are chapters on Oysters, Indian Cowboys, Chili con Carne, The German Belt, and a chapter on Ice Cream Socials. If it has to do with Texas Food, Walsh covers it.

If you enjoy going a step further than just reproducing a recipe, I think you'll love it.

I give it 5 stars!


Monday, March 5, 2012

I May Have Eaten Them a Bit Prematurely

I got a nice message from a blog reader last week (I do so love to get a  message from the likes of y'all) in which she lamented the state of her salads.

Salad lamentations. Could there be anything worse?

She asked if I could think of anything to jazz up her salads from the regular ho-hum lettuce and tomato (with the occasional carrot or crouton thrown in) to something more, well, exciting. Something fabulous! she said.
She's not much of a cook (her own opinion, not mine)  and doesn't have much time to spend in the kitchen.

First, no one should lament their salads. It's just wrong.

Lament your cheese crackers, maybe. But not your salads.

Second, I think that every salad, to be the very best salad it can be, should have a tangy, a crunchy, and a sweet element.

A salad needs to look good as well as taste good, and a variety of textures, shapes and colors makes that happen.

One thing that I like to do is add a tangy cheese (such as blue cheese, or goat cheese) and a sweet and crunchy nut.

Why look what we have done. We have killed the proverbial two birds with one stone.

The sweet and crunchy nut.

It's so easy to make Sugared Pecans (or Walnuts, or whatever...)

Just you watch.

1. Put three cups of halved nuts in a bowl (I used pecan and walnut halves, but whole almonds work great too).

2. Add 1 cup light brown sugar, 1 stick melted butter, and 1 tsp. salt.

Repeat after me: Do not leave out the salt.

Mix everything up and pour the mixture onto a foil-lined baking sheet. (This saves some major messiness!)

3. Bake in a 350 degree preheated oven for 10 minutes, then remove and stir well, put them back in the oven and cook for 10 minutes more. (Caution! These times might need to be adjusted based on your individual oven.  Walnuts have more oil than pecans and will burn more easily. Careful.)

I can't find the picture I took of them all nice and pretty in a bowl. Or maybe I ate them all before I got them in a bowl. I am somewhat fuzzy on the sequence of events leading up to the missing nuts picture.

Add these to a pretty salad of romaine lettuce, thinly sliced green onions, and blue cheese.

Top it all off with a vinaigrette of olive oil, white wine vinegar, lemon juice, salt, pepper, a little chopped fresh rosemary and a tiny pinch of cayenne pepper.

Tiny! pinch!


Lu (ludolan8@gmail.com)

Thursday, March 1, 2012

I Think They Both Wore Bonnets?

So I'll admit it was a little embarrassing to realize that in my latest sleep poem I referenced the wrong nursery rhyme character that lost her sheep. It was Bo Peep I was thinking of and not Mary.

Bo Peep lost her sheep.

Mary was contrary and had a big garden.

My only excuse is my lack of sleep. And maybe a diminishing intellect.

On a more positive note I did sleep pretty well last night until about 4:00 am or so when I woke up and really needed to go to the bathroom. I don't know about you but I seem to think that if I just refuse to get up, the feeling will go away. I'm not sure where it would go. Just away. But it doesn't. Ever. And then I invariably begin to have very odd little snippets of dreams in the 30 seconds or so at a time that I do doze off. Like I'm going to take a shower in a car that's in a bathroom but I first, of course, have to make sure all the windows are covered with these curtain-y things, and as I am pulling them across the windows I notice that people are sticking their hands right through the glass and helping me.

Which is creepy if you think about it.

And then I notice that people are zipping by on a street (in the bathroom) on Harleys and other motorcycle-ish vehicles. Most of which are covered in my favorite stone, turquoise.

My, they were pretty things.

Anyway, up until 4:00 I did pretty good. Neveryoumind the fact that I was almost dying from a heatstroke. I may have mentioned before how The Chief enjoys sleeping in a sauna. Or a steambath.

Or the Sahara.

But I did OK.

In other news, I've been reading a lot.  All kinds of books. Currently I am making my way through two.  One about America's Great Delis! and the other about Extraordinary Women.

As you can see, my interests, they are all over the place.

In the Extraordinary Women book there was a chapter on fears.  We all have them. It included a list of the top ten phobias:

(Please note that I am not making light of any of these, as I know that some people have horrible lifelong struggles...) This is just my analysis for my fears...

1. arachnophobia (the fear of spiders)  Not really a problem for me. I'm a friend to the spider. Although their multiple eyes are kind of hard to deal with.

2. social phobia (the fear of being evaluated negatively in social situations)  I think everyone at one time or another deals with this. I mean once you walk down the hall in Junior High dragging a 20 foot piece of toilet paper which is stuck to the heel of your very favorite tasseled loafers, you're going to have some social issues. Trust me on this.

3. aerophobia (the fear of flying) I think this is pretty common, although not a issue for me. The Chief (who has flown all over the world multiple times) said he may have developed a touch of it after experiencing heavy turbulence in a small plane in Africa. He was sitting between a man holding a goat and a lady with a rooster.

4. agoraphobia (fear and avoidance of any place or situation where escape might be difficult or help unavailable in the event of developing sudden panic-like symptoms)  No problem here unless we count all those years when I taught classes full of seventh-grade boys...

5. claustrophobia (the fear of being trapped in small confined spaces) Well, I think I might have a little of this. Nothing major, but I don't want to find out. Especially if it involves being trapped in a small classroom of those seventh graders.

6. acrophobia (the fear of heights)  Um. Maybe. It's not the height necessarily that gets me. It's being on the edge and looking down. I can't describe the odd sensation in my body. Odd. Indescribable. Not good.

7. emetophobia (the fear of vomit or vomiting)  Look. I hate to throw up. Hate it. I mean I think I would be weirder than all get out if I liked it. And if you tell me you like it, I'm gonna think you're weird too. Maybe even creepy.  But if you're a Mom, you're going to have to deal with it. It's funny, but when the boys were little and throwing up The Chief always seemed to be offshore. Or locked in his secret "I can't deal with vomit" room.

8. carcinophobia (the fear of cancer) I think we all have a healthy dose of this fear.

9. brontophobia (the fear of thunderstorms) The Weege is the poster child for this one. They don't bother me much, but I did not enjoy the whole tornado/severe storm thing last spring when Weegie and I had to take refuge alone in the bathroom at the farm with no electricity while I was receiving texts from my son (who was watching a very sophisticated weather radar) asking me what I was leaving him in my will.
Sons are funny like that.

10. necrophobia (the fear of death or dead things) Not a problem for me. And I cannot tell you how much Weegie enjoys a nice dead thing to roll in. A bird, a cow, a scorpion, a feral hog - he loves 'em all.

So that was the top ten. And if you ever get the chance, you can google fears or phobias- there are thousands and thousands.

If you look hard enough you might find the name for the fear of confusing your nursery rhyme characters.


Or whatever The Chief suffers from. The fear of sleeping at a NORMAL TEMPERATURE.

Let me know what you discover.