B.I.U.B.

Do you keep up with BIUBs?

You do know what that is, don’t you?

That’s the acronym for “Best If Used By.” Some products have the words; some use the acronym.

In the past, I’ve rarely checked the dates after the goods were brought home from the store. But, oh, my children did – and do. If I ask what kind of dressing they want on their salads, one or more will ask what the dates are on the bottles. They nearly drive me crazy. I mean, after all, they’ve survived to the ages of 35, 33 and 28 eating what I put before them.

Now, I find myself checking at my own mom’s house, especially the cheese and the bread. And the salad dressing. And the jelly. And the eggs. And milk and juice.

Last week, as I decided to reorganize the pantry that was The Duppster’s and now is ours, I looked at the BUIB dates. These were items he had in the pantry as well as those I added after we got married in June.

Quite a few were still good, thank goodness. Some were only barely expired, which, in my way of thinking, isn’t really and truly expired. Why toss something only a little bit past the BIUB date? I can’t think of a single reason.

And then I came across some canned evaporated milk. The tell-tale date on three cans was February – of 2004! That’s 6 ½ years ago!

I mentioned it to Dupp. He chuckled and said that these certainly couldn’t be what he bought because he didn’t move to South Carolina until three years go.

So, he looked expectantly in my direction. But, as I told him, I never buy that particular brand. Never.

Well, it looks like our marriage must be a threesome ‘cause it certainly seems that Mr. Nobody moved in with us.

Those expired cans of milk? Nobody bought ‘em.


~            ~            ~            ~            ~

Ah, We've Found Our Differences . . .

Ah, we’ve found our differences.

In the two weeks since Karl (The Duppster) and I got married, we’ve been busy combining households, with “stuff” ranging from furniture to kitchen utensils.

I knew I had finally discovered our differences when I opened “his-now-ours” freezer door. As I leaned over to put in my Healthy Choice and Lean Cuisine dinners, I found his extra-large, family-sized peach cobbler.

My “no sugar added” ice cream went next to The Duppster’s creamy, home-style version of the same flavor and near his several boxes of popsicles.

In the refrigerator, my 2% milk-fat cheese went next to his regular cheese. The fat-free Miracle Whip went next to his regular Miracle Whip. (Yes, we both agree on Miracle Whip – just at different “strengths.”)

That’s not all. The light sour cream was placed next to regular sour cream. The reduced fat cream cheese went next to his full-fledged Philadelphia cream cheese. Next to his rich and creamy salad dressing, I put the fat-free and light dressings.

There were differences in the pantry as well. One example included my fat-free Hershey’s chocolate syrup next to his regular of the same brand. My fat-free Fig Newtons went on the same shelf as Dupp’s Oreos and numerous other sweets.

Either I’ll gain weight or “Vive la difference!”

I Just Might Have a Problem With Math

There might be something to what we used to call “new math.” That’s because I’m convinced that one plus one doesn’t always equal two.

Here’s the thing: Karl a/k/a The Duppster or Dupp and I got marred just over a week ago. Now we’re trying to merge two households of furniture, stuff and junk into one household of furniture, stuff and junk.

In other words, we’re trying to make one plus one equal one.

It just doesn’t work.

We had a back yard sale over the weekend. We need to have four or five more, but, gee, what a pain! We’ve also donated boxes and boxes of belongings and already have more boxed up to drop off.

Oh, and did I mention that some of the adult children are using us for storage? I’m not really complaining. I love my children and would do anything for them (within reason, of course.) Still, this is stuff that has to be moved and put somewhere. (Side note to Mom: Yes, I know, I have a few belongings still at your house!)

Trying to make one plus one equal only one isn’t the biggest problem, though.

Somehow, in this on-going two-week process of sorting, selling, shredding, donating, tossing, packing and moving, I have managed to lose or at least misplace the marriage license. And I’m not talking about a “keepsake” version. I’ve misplaced what needs to be signed and returned to the courthouse. I hope it’s just misplaced and not shredded.

We might not need that new math after all!

- - - - - -

Where Did All of This Stuff Come From????

Where did all of this stuff come from?

The Duppster and I are getting ready to combine households, i.e. two houses of furniture into one house.

In this situation, though, we have more than the two houses. There are three full storage PODS and a full two-car garage (and not with vehicles.)

The really big problem isn’t the furniture; it’s the stuff. And the junk. And all of those things in between.

For example, I’ve found three large boxes crammed full of odds and ends, marked to my son from his father (my ex.) At first glance, it appears these are things that the ex didn’t want to throw away but didn’t want to keep. So, he gave them to our son. My son doesn’t want them, although I think at some point in the future he might wish he had one or two of them.

So, what do I do with them? Is the term “mom” synonymous with “storage facility” or “holder of all things no one else wants to hold” or some other similar appellation?

There’s one daughter’s wedding dress, another daughter’s CDs and books, and many items whose owners are unknown.

No doubt, most of this is my fault and my fault alone.

I’ve come across seven pacifiers, although my youngest child will be 28 this week! Yes, I have a grandson, but he lived in Colorado during his first 14 months of life, so he wasn’t here much and he quit using a pacifier early.

And I’ve also come across some things that are unidentifiable; I have no idea what they are or how I ended up with them.

We are readying for a garage sale, lots of donations and the move. As we move things gradually to Dupp’s house, we’ve realized one of the great ironies of moving: at my house, it looks as though nothing has been taken away; at his house, it looks like everything is already there.

Yep! It's Ol' Murphy - Again!

                                                                                                                  
Okay. It’s a given. The proverbial Murphy’s Law strikes when it wants to. It struck last week.

I had a few items of clothing that needed to be washed. I was thinking it was a really small load but then remembered some items that had been hanging in the closet for a long time. They hadn’t been worn, either because of season, weather or my ever-changing weight. I tossed those things into the washing machine as well.

Using only cold water, I put all kinds of things into that load. Once all were washed, I moved the wet laundry to the dryer and hit “Start.”

When the dryer’s buzzer sounded, I hurried over to unload and then hang or fold clothes. (I will hurry to the dryer any day instead of taking time to iron clothes!)

And that’s when Murphy’s Law struck once again. Or at least that’s when I became aware of ol’ Murphy.

There had been a tube of lipstick in a jacket pocket – and now there was red lipstick on every single item of clothing. Not just most of the clothes but ALL of ‘em.

The lipstick is still there. I’ve found a few “how-to” tips for removing lipstick from clothes, although most have to do with finding a single lipstick smudge on one article of clothing before washing and, worse yet, drying the lipstick into the clothes.

One method is to put white toothpaste on each smudge, which would amount to a whole lot of toothpaste in this case. I haven’t tried it yet because the only toothpaste in the house is green gel.

Yep, it’s Murphy again. We’re getting to know each other rather well.

~                              ~                               ~

PH: Could I Interest You in Some Furniture? Artwork? Odds 'n Ends?

As regular - and perhaps even occasional - visitors to this blog (EX Marks the Spot) know, every Saturday is Photo Hunt Day in the world of blogs.  A different word is chosen each week; several hundred bloggers then post one or more photos to represent that word. 

Sometimes it's easy and sometimes not.  One thing it has done for me, though, is to open my eyes and my mind to things around me, to become more aware of everyday things.

Today's challenge is the word bulky.    What an appropriate topic for me!  No, not just because I'm somewhat bulky myself, but because I'm trying to get rid of some bulky items, including furniture.  In fact, I've been using Craig's List and eBay.  I was planning a garage sale for today but the weather forecast was for "bitter cold," so I'm waiting a week.

There's a queen-sized sleeper sofa, two recliners, an antique rocker, high chair, overstuffed floor pillows and more.

.

And there are also items that are not bulky, like this set of six champagne flutes, still in the original box and unused.  By the time I finish this process, I may actually want to use them!

 

It's time to let go of so many things -- but that's easier said than done!

~  ~    ~  ~ ~                    ~ ~   ~ ~ ~

To see other bulky photos (and certainly better ones), click here.

PhotoHunt: Undesirable!

What a topic for this week's Photo Hunt!  Who in the world takes pictures of undesirable things, places and such? 

I was planning to skip participation this week - and then I looked through some of my existing photos on the computer.  It turns out that I take pictures of things undesirable.  Of course, being such an amateur photographer (actually just an amateur picture-taker; don't even qualify to call myself a photographer!) I've taken quite a few undesirable pictures of beautiful places and things.

I ordered some china in this beautiful pattern, and this is the way it arrived.  Quite undesirable.

By the way, I still have those pieces, so if anyone uses broken china for arts and crafts, you're welcome to all or some of the pieces.

The view under the kitchen sink used to be undesirable. 

Something was undesirable for Harrison on his first birthday.  Perhaps it was the hat.

And, yes, I know: being an "ex" everything, I could have posted my own picture.

And further, I resisted posting a photo of the "luv Guv" (Mark Sanford) - or any other politician for that matter.  There are some I find very undesirable.  :)


To see other undesirable photos, go here.


~                      ~                         ~

It's About Sex

I don’t write about sex very often. Maybe it’s because I don’t know very much!

But I just read that October is National Family Sexuality Month, an effort to promote open communication within families about sexuality.

Well, this reminded me a particular day many years ago. I’ve written about it before, so if you’ve already read it, just bear with me.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was at home with the three children, all of whom were quite young at the time.

According to the newspaper’s TV schedule, a show was coming on late that afternoon about teaching children how to say “no” to strangers.

Excellent, I thought. As a mother of youngsters, I wanted them to stay away from strangers and not to be tempted ever by candy or any other enticement. Without being pushy, I had us all in the room with the television when the program began. And so, we sat down and casually tuned in to watch the show.

After a few minutes of discussion about saying “no” to strangers, the conversation changed somewhat. It went from saying “no” to strangers to just saying “no” in general. And then, finally, the program’s focus turned to relationships between teenagers and beyond. The talk was about saying “no” to “doing it.” Should a person wait for love? True love? Commitment? Marriage? What? When was the right time?

As one might imagine, the children were engrossed in the discussion. Then all of a sudden, Tiffany blurted out, “I’m confused!”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because,” she replied, “they’re talking about when to do it and I don’t even know what it is!”

Keep watching, honey, just keep watching.

And there you have it - our celebration of National Family Sexuality Month!

How Close is Too Close for E-mail???

New neighbors are moving in next door.

When I met the husband half of the couple two days ago, he mentioned that his wife was looking for employment. I suggested a particular link on the web that might be beneficial and said I would e-mail the link to them, which I did.

I just received a reply from the wife half of the couple. She thanked me, then said she felt silly e-mailing someone who was just next door.

This reminded me of something.


My ex-husband and I met on the internet but not on one of the dating sites or anything similar. Somehow, we just ran across each other accidentally when we were involved with or researching the same topic somehow – history, politics, government; I don’t remember exactly what.

Shortly, we were e-mailing each other back and forth about things going on in South Carolina, where we both lived. This went on and on – about state politics, shipwrecks (his ventures), word oddities and more – for hours and hours, then days and days, then weeks and weeks. We figured we logged over 500 hours chatting with each other on-line before we ever had a first date.

After we got married, we sometimes e-mailed each other from within the SAME house! Isn’t that crazy? It’s much sillier than neighbors e-mailing each other.

Of course, this may be one of the reasons we are now exes; we communicated much better online than in person, I guess.

(In case you’ve read much on this blog, yes, he’s the same one who is now married to my cousin, so he is now my cousin-by-marriage!)

Plants That Can't Be Killed? Yeah, Right!

So, yesterday I saw a headline on the Internet that caught my attention: “Twelve Plants You Can’t Kill.”

Plants that can’t be killed? Now, that’s something that really intrigued me. I quickly clicked on the headline to get the whole story.
I read through the information about all 12 plants. What I figured out at the end is that these plants have not met me!
There’s just no possible way plants can stay alive under my care.


Several years ago, we moved into a home which was surrounded by loads and loads of azaleas, roses, camellias, wisteria and more. They were lush and had been there a long, long time. They were still there when I moved out, but that’s primarily because I never touched them! I looked at them, I admired them, I photographed them – but I never, ever touched them. That most certainly would have been the touch of death.


Family members used to joke that even artificial plants and flowers didn’t last around me. And, believe me, it takes some kind of doing to kill an artificial flower!
One time, just to have some greenery around, I put weeds into a planter. Even the weeds died!


Oh, wait; I have indeed found one type of plant that I don’t kill. It’s called kudzu!
I couldn’t kill the kudzu nor could I find anyone else who knew how to kill it. Kudzu takes over flowers, bushes, trees – anything in its way.


The fact that I can “grow” kudzu doesn’t give me a green thumb or anything close to it.
Maybe I’ll put those twelve plants that can’t be killed to the test. Anyone want to place a bet???

Photo Hunt Saturday: STRIPES! Yipes!

One of the things I enjoy about the weekly Photo Hunt is that it makes me more observant of things around me. I notice things I had not previously noticed. This week I learned that stripes are everywhere!

Stripes are in my house: on wrapping paper, sheets and even this Kleenex tissue box.

Some toys have stripes. Did you ever own a Zube Tube?

There's a stripe in the sky outside my house, although this stripe is temporary.

Some road signs have stripes.

Even roads have stripes.

This bus at our church is used to transport people with Alzheimer's to "The Ark" -- our respite care program. See? The bus has stripes.

Many businesses in our town (Summerville, SC) have striped awnings.

Even the window under this awning looks like it has stripes!

These stripes are on the mooring poles in Venice, where the waterways serve as streets. The poles vary by families. Even the gondoliers where striped shirts. Did you know the members of the gondoliers guild are almost all male? It's a very difficult profession to get into and sometimes the work passes down through families. Licenses are limited in number and they, too, are difficult to obtain. It seems that relatives of long-time gondoliers have preference.

This family's mooring poles remind me of barber poles, which aren't as prevalent as they used to be.

Do you know how the striped barber poles came about?

According to Wikipedia, "the red and white stripes symbolize the bandages used during the (barbering) procedure: red for the blood-stained and white for the clean bandages. Originally, these bandages were hung on the pole to dry after washing. As the bandages blew in the wind, they would twist together to form the spiral pattern similar to the stripes in the modern day barber pole. The barber pole became emblematic of the barber/surgeon's profession. Later the cloths were replaced by a painted wooden pole of red and white stripes."

* * *

Have you done something to earn your stripes? That phrase probably came about because of the various professions in which stripes are earned: military, law enforcement, etc. It is now widely used to refer to anyone who has worked hard to earn a position or level of responsibility.

I'm trying to earn my stripes as a blogger!

* * *

To visit other participants in Photo Hunt, click here.

We Like Football and Scarecrows and Azaleas and Pine Trees

Welcome to Summerville!

Along with many other women bloggers, I am participating in a “blog trip” this week.



Part of what we’re doing is introducing our hometowns to others from throughout the US and the whole world. So, here we go!

I’m a lifelong South Carolinian, currently calling Summerville, SC, home. Summerville is also known as “Flower Town in the Pines” or, shortened, “Flowertown.”

There’s a Flowertown Festival each spring – just when the thousands and thousands of azaleas are in bloom. The old historic district of the town has loads of magnolias, pines, azaleas, camellias and more. We were the first town to have an ordinance prohibiting the cutting of trees:

To protect Summerville's biggest asset, the village became an official town in 1847, passing a first law prohibiting the cutting of certain-sized trees without permission, and fining offenders a then hefty $25. That ordinance, one of the oldest of its kind in the United States, is still on the books. (from the Summerville web site.)


The tree-cutting ordinance is one of several environmental niceties about Summerville. Years ago, the town was the place people came to escape mosquitoes during the hot, muggy summers in nearby Charleston.

In fact, in the late 1800s, the International Congress of Physicians declared Summerville as one of the two best places in the world for the treatment and recovery of lung disorders. (Talk about breathing a sigh of relief!) This was based on the perceived healing aspects of the pine tree's turpentine scent.


Numerous inns and small hotels were constructed to handle the many visitors, who came for their health; realizing the beauty and quaintness of the town, many built seasonal homes and then became permanent residents. Cosmetics magnate Estee Lauder lived in Summerville.

Right in the middle of town, there’s Hutchinson Square. Every October, we have “Scarecrows on the Square.” Groups decorate and sponsor scarecrows. It’s fantastic for children! On Independence Day, the celebration is known as “Red, White and Blue on the Green.”










Aside from the town’s Azalea Park, where many weddings are held, there are nearby gardens known world-wide: Middleton Place Gardens, Magnolia Gardens and Cypress Gardens. There are 700 local buildings on the National Historic Register.









Azalea Park hosts the annual "Sculpture in the South" event each May. The town is acquiring some beautiful pieces for public display and appreciation.




And, like in many Southern communities, there is football. But football here is like in no other place. That’s because of Coach John McKissick, the winningest coach in history in the sport of football. Here’s the blurb from Wikipedia, along with a picture from NFL Legends:

John McKissick In 2004, he became the first American football coach in history to win 500 career games. His 500th win came against Mount Pleasant's Wando High School. He had already beaten Wando in 1993, to establish a national high school football record with 406 wins. As of 2007, he hasn't missed a game in 55 years. He has led Summerville to 10 state championships. With over 500 wins, Coach McKissick is the winningest and longest serving active high school football coach.


There are unique restaurants throughout town, including the prestigious Woodlands Inn and Resort. As noted on the inn’s website:

Woodlands Resort & Inn is one of only three lodging properties in America to be awarded the Mobil Five-Star and AAA Five Diamond awards for both lodging and dining. It is also a member of the highly esteemed Relais & Chateaux and is the Charleston area's luxury retreat only 30 minutes from the historic District. The Dining Room has been awarded the Relais & Chateaux highest culinary designation - Relais Gourmand. http://www.woodlandsinn.com/.


Downtown is full of unique shops, restaurants and just plain beauty! It's a great place to take a daily walk, which I do, though not quite daily.









Come visit in person some time. Great schools, friendly people, modern AND quaint!



While you're here during this blog trip, please take a minute to vote in the anonymous poll - top left-hand corner. Thanks so much!