Gotta Love the Man

I made the most fantastic dinner this last weekend!

What, you sound surprised? Yes, I cook. I also do the laundry, (well, mine), I clean, (I supervise the hiring of the cleaning lady), I make sure the dogs have their flea medicine, get to the groomers and vet. I am a very busy person and I found the time to make a great dinner.

Snow Crab legs! Yummy.

I love crab. Whether it is Snow Crab, King Crab, Blue crabs (well, them not so much). My all time favorite of course is Dungeness. But here in Florida you have to mortgage your house to get good Dungeness Crab, so we settle for Snow Crab.

Anyway, we steamed the buggers for about 8 minutes. Wow, were they wonderful.

Once I got to eat it, that is.

One thing I had forgotten about crab legs. The amount of work there is to get to any type of substantial food.

I have my crab leg clusters, saving the claw for last of course. I am breaking the legs off of the cluster part and cracking them open. I have this small pile of shredded crab on my plate. Now, I am not one to get the crab out and eat it all immediately. That completely defeats the purpose. You must have a pile of crab on your plate that you can then lovingly pierce with your fork, dip into the butter and let slide into your mouth. Why do that and then have to struggle through another damn shell cracking, mess??

Anyway, I digress, as usual.

I look over at Not a Grampy's plate and he is pulling huge pieces of crab out of the legs. Not shredded??? WTF?

"Hey" I whine, "my legs are defective, I want yours."

He looks over at my plate and smirks.

"Honey, just pull the leg apart at the joint, crack the tip and it all pulls out" He then proceeded to demonstrate....again.

While struggling with my damn crab legs, I end up with more shell in my shredded crab than crab. While Not a Grampy is proceeding on to his third set of legs, leaving no crab on his plate, I might add.

He looks at my pathetic attempts to crack the legs and finally takes pity on me.

While I am sitting there happily sipping my wine, Not a Grampy cracks all the crab legs, and lays all the meat out on a plate, in huge chunks I might add for both of us to enjoy!

Every now and then being pathetic has it rewards. And I didn't have to do dishes either! *smirk*

I didn't think this through completely...

For Christmas last year I bought Not A Grampy a driving experience at the Richard Petty Driving Experience at Daytona International Speedway in Daytona Beach.

For those of you who live in caves, it has to do with NASCAR. (hush Avitable, you should have known what was happening that weekend).

He will be driving 8 laps around the 31 degree banked turns, driving a 600 horsepower car. They will only let him get up to 150 miles per hour, because he is considered a rookie. (pffft, he does that in the Corvette)

We are heading to Daytona tomorrow morning, Saturday. Bright and early. Daughter, SIL, GK #2, friends, we are all going over to watch Not a Grampy pretend to be Tony Stewart.

When I purchased this wonderful gift, I had all kinds of plans. Vacations, cruises, maybe a tummy tuck. At least a new swim suit.

Then I read the fine print, his life insurance is voided if he dies while "enjoying" this experience.

Sigh.....Pass me the wine.

Stop the Presses!!

OMG!!! I am in absolute shock. My daughter has posted!!!! I thought she had given up!!

Please forgive her spelling, she didn't use spell check.

Her 7th or 8th grade teacher told us that she would never be a great speller. In fact, she actually said that my daughter "was not hit in the head with spelling"? The teacher went on to say that she would always need to use spell check.

So please, stop by I Can't Stand the Madness and welcome her back.

Plus, she just had a huge blow up with her hubby over bullSh*t, so she will need the support.

Not a Granny Adventures

I was picking up some donations from a lady and her husband last night after work. I do this very frequently, going to peoples homes to pick up items they want to donate. Most time I have to put the back seats down in my car to load everything in.

I drive a 2005 Toyota Prius. I love my car. I drive 72 miles roundtrip each day to work. I am getting 54 mpg. Yup, 54 freakin miles to the gallon!!

If you aren't familiar with the Prius it is a hybrid. Electric and gas engine and no you do not plug it in. The car regenerates through the use of the brakes and other methods. Don't ask me all the details, I don't care all that much, I just know I am getting 54 miles to the gallon.

Anyway, after I picked up the 6 bags from this lovely lady, I thanked them, they went into their house and I got into my car.

I pushed the Power button, with my foot on the brake as required, and nothing happened. Huh? I tried again, nothing, just a whirring noise. I checked that I was in Park, yup, pushed the Power button again...still notta. So I opened the door and closed it again. Hey, you never know, it could be a door thing. One more time...Nope!

So, here I am in a gated neighborhood, with a dead car (I just know that my hybrid battery had gone kaput). My car only has 57,000 miles on it, that damn battery is supposed to last to at least 140,000. I am getting ready to call Not A Grampy and then AAA when I glance in the seat next to me and what do I see...

My keys.

I insert the cartridge in the slot, press the Power button and back out of the strangers driveway.

PS, Don't tell Not a Grampy, he would laugh at me.