Grocery Store Challenge

The next time you're up for a challenge, try grocery shopping from a list someone else created to do his or her own grocery shopping. I had the opportunity to do that this morning when my sister Margie had to make a speedy trip to the hospital for the birth of her granddaughter two months early.

Last night Margie, with Katie's help, had made a grocery list, so I offered to take the list and do the shopping for her. Before I left her house, I decided to go over the list with Katie. That exercise raised more questions than answers.

What is "my cereal"? Does she want sliced cheddar cheese or a block of cheddar? What kind of bread does she buy? And what are Velveeta strips?

Fortunately, her housekeeper Susie was there to tell me that she had never seen a block of any kind of cheese in Margie's refrigerator and that "my cereal" meant some flavor of Honey Bunches of Oats. A quick look through her pantry revealed two unopened boxes of cinnamon flavored Honey Bunches of Oats, so I decided on the honey roasted flavor.

Looking in the bread drawer, I found an almost empty sack of Nature's Own Honey Wheat bread, so that answered that question. And a search of the garage refrigerator told me that she had two unopened containers of orange juice, so I crossed "OJ" off the list.

I already knew that "DDP" meant Diet Dr. Pepper, so armed with my list and a few answers, I headed out for Kroger. I quickly filled a basket with most of the items on the list, although I never did find anything called "Velveeta Strips." I decided on Velveeta slices instead and proceeded to check out.

I later learned that I did pretty well, actually. However, I was curious about the Velveeta Strips. Margie explained that when her son Scott complained that she had only shredded Cheddar cheese for the chili, she told him that Velveeta doesn't come pre-shredded. He quickly said, "That's what Velveeta Strips are for."

Well he can just tear those Velveeta slices into little bitty pieces next time.

Also, it's a good thing for my wallet that I interpreted "turkey" to mean sliced deli turkey, otherwise I might have actually bought the Thanksgiving turkey she really wanted.

Remembering Our Veterans

On this Veterans Day I am reminded of my father, Captain Thomas Benton Walker, Sr., who served with the Timberwolves during World War II in Germany, France and Belgium.

After reading Scott Turow's Ordinary Heroes I became intrigued by The War and started going through a scrapbook that my Aunt Sissy, Daddy's sister, compiled with letters, photos and other things Daddy sent home from Europe. Unfortunately, I didn't even know about the scrapbook's existence until after Daddy died.

I'm sorry I never took the time to talk to him more about his experiences, but I'm not sure he would have shared much anyway.

Happy Veterans Day to all who have served in the armed forces, and especially those who served in war time.

In the Home Stretch

We are now officially in "Wedding Week," as we move closer to Ben's and Claire's big day in Little Rock this Saturday.

Sunday afternoon, LBeau and I did a run through, setting up the 6'x6' screen and projector in the den and playing the rehearsal dinner video from start to finish. I must say that I am pleased with the results. I created the slides using StoryBook Plus and then used Microsoft Movie Maker to pull the slides and music into a video presentation.

It's also comforting to know that we have our own equipment and don't have to rely on renting something that we then have to figure out how to use. I have to admit that I teased LBeau when he decided we needed to order our own screen and projector. Frankly, it seemed like an extravagant expense at the time, but I think we'll find lots of uses for it.

In the meantime, LBeau is working on his speech, complete with a PowerPoint presentation. This required the purchase of another gadget, a remote controller for the PowerPoint that comes with a built in laser pointer.

This afternoon I created an Excel spreadsheet with the seating chart for the 140 guests for the Rehearsal Dinner, many of whom RSVPed via email to invitations that I printed and addressed in Microsoft Word.

It makes me tired just wondering how weddings came together before all of this wonderful technology.

That's Our Coach

On this football Saturday, I am reminded of another football weekend fifteen years ago. In 1993 Danny Ford came to Alabama for the first time as head coach of the Arkansas Razorbacks.

Ford had played at Alabama under legendary Coach Paul "Bear" Bryant, and the local news media focused on that angle as well as the Razorbacks' first trip to Tuscaloosa as a member of the Southeastern Conference. During Friday night's sports segment, one Birmingham television station interviewed a number of Arkansas fans who had already arrived in Tuscaloosa.

After watching the broadcast, my friend Peggy turned to her husband Phil and said, "I don't know why they always pick the hickiest Arkansas fans to interview."

To which Phil replied, "That's not a fan; that's our coach."

Alabama Girls

Yesterday's agenda included a tour of the Anheuser-Busch Brewery. Although most of the tour group were ACI Convention attendees, a couple of locals were in the mix.

At one point a somewhat scruffy looking gentleman approached Marcia and me and started talking about "The Hill," the Italian section of St. Louis. He had all kinds of advice from how to get there to where to eat. Later in the hospitality room where we were enjoying a pomegranate-raspberry beer, he started talking to us again. (Side note: I am not a beer drinker, but the pomegranate-raspberry beer was pretty refreshing.)

After boarding the bus to return to our hotel, I looked up to see him coming down the aisle. I didn't think he looked like an engineer, but I decided he was part of our group after all.

"Where are those Alabama girls?" he asked.

Marcia and I meekly raised our hands. So here he comes with his gift shop bag and begins showering us with gifts--an umbrella, a coozie and a keychain flashlight. Turns out he was a brewery employee who decided to take the tour on his day off.

Guess there's something about us girls raised in the South. Must be the luscious lips or maybe it's just the accent.

Stuck in the Slow Lane

I'm married to an engineer, so that's why I sometimes get stuck in the slow lane. This week is a classic example. We are at the American Concrete Institute Fall Convention in St. Louis. Imagine spending four or five quality days with a bunch of mostly men who find pleasure in attending sessions with such titles as "Evaluation of Existing Structures by Means of In-Situ-Load Testing and Structural Monitoring." That's where LBeau is as I type.

Yesterday we took a tour of the Holcim Cement Plant that's under construction in Ste. Genevieve County south of St. Louis. It's important to keep in mind that cement and concrete are not the same thing. Cement is made from limestone and is an ingredient of concrete.

Last night I passed on the opening session, but we did go to the Reception, which featured a cash bar (they ran out of red wine) and light refreshments. In going to these conventions for the past several years, I have learned that "light refreshments" typically means chips and salsa, veggies and ranch dip, and cheese of various kinds with crackers.

Tomorrow night is the big social event, aptly named the Concrete Mixer. The food shoud be better.

Meanwhile, the highlight of my evening was when Ross from Naples, Florida, told me I had luscious lips. Thankfully he didn't try to kiss me.

Four from My Forties

Margie has challenged me to post and write about four pictures from my forties. She probably thinks I don't remember my forties, but I'm up to the task.

When I turned 40 we were living with our three boys in Texarkana in the Pleasant Grove area at 18 Clay Avenue. Not too long after moving to Texarkana from Little Rock we adopted a cat. Blackie had lived across the street, but her owners built a new house and moved about a mile away.

Blackie was an outdoor kitty, and she missed Clay Avenue. So she kept running away from home and hanging out at our house. I would dutifully call her owners and tell them that Blackie had come back again. They would come pick her up, and the whole cycle would start over. They finally asked if we wanted to keep her. We did. Knowing that she would face a long trek from Birmingham to Texarkana, we left her with our neighbors Maurice and Irma Short when we moved here in 1989. She lived out the rest of her days with the Shorts.

Does anyone remember Hands Across America? The event happened on Sunday, May 25, 1986. Technically I was only 39 at the time, but I thought I would include this picture anyway. The line wound through Texarkana, and the boys and I joined it at Summerhill Plaza Shopping Center.

A couple of years after moving to Texarkana, Laura Butterfield and I opened Rose Hill Emporium. Laura's husband Andy offered us the empty space in the front of his small motor repair business, and we taught painting on wood and fabric and sold gift items. I don't think we ever made any money, but we had a good time.

By the way, this picture is proof that big hair was alive and well in Texas.

In 1989 we moved to Birmingham, Alabama. Larry and I decided that we would buy a lot and subcontract our own house, so in 1991 I became a builder. Since Larry was working all day, I had the task of overseeing the project. I ordered all of the materials, hired all of the subcontractors and made sure everyone showed up on time. Well, more or less on time. Seventeen years later I'm still building and remodeling, and a couple of those subcontractors are still with me.

Each summer the boys and I headed to Camp David for a week on Pickwick Lake. Camp David is my sister-in-law Billie Anne's lake house. My sister-in-law Mary Katherine brought her three children, Mema Martha was there, and sometimes Anne and David, BA's kids, would spend a few days with us. Fishing, boating, tubing and playing tennis took up most of our days, and BA always organized an outing to Shiloh National Military Park. At night we played games, and the cousins performed impromptu shows.

So there's my four from my forties (I know it's really five, but I'm not counting the one when I was only 39). It's fun to remember the Good Ole Days, so if any of the rest of you are up to the challenge, just pick a decade and post some pictures.