Author Archives: LC Aggie Sith

About LC Aggie Sith

Machete-wielding zombie killer when not a stay-at-home mom.

It’s the Spiciest Time of the Year

Y’all…

It’s that time again.

The time when every pumpkin fears for its life.

It’s the dawning of the age of Pumpkin Spice Latte.

I won’t lie. I enjoy a PSL once in a while. In fact, there was a time I was all excited to see Coffeemate bring out their Pumpkin Spice flavor so I could have a fix of The Spice at home. But I am more into The Spice than I am into The Pumpkin. Unless it’s pie. Then I am all about that with a huge dollop of homemade whipped cream. But in a drink, it’s not as appealing to me. That said, I have lots of friends IRL and on the Interwebs that do love PSL. Love it so much they set aside time for Starbucks on the first day they serve it. For me, the attraction is in the Spice. I’m all Paul Atreides on that. But I found an additional way to enjoy Pumpkin Spice without the Latte.

That’s right. A chocolate shake with Bailey’s Pumpkin Spice. Bailey’s used to have the recipe up on their site, but alas, they took it down. Lucky for y’all, I found it again.

  • 4 oz. Baileys Pumpkin Spice Irish Cream
  • 2 cups Chocolate Ice Cream
  • 2 oz. Whole Milk
  • 1/4 cup Brown Sugar
  • 1/4 cup Pumpkin Puree
  • 1/4 tsp. of Pumpkin Spice Blend (Allspice)

Put everything in a blender and go to town (not literally). You can substitute vanilla ice cream for the chocolate (why you would want to do that is beyond my comprehension), the whole milk for reduced fat or skim, and make sure you get plain pumpkin puree, not pie filling. Otherwise the sweetness will be off the charts. Personally, I would cut back a little on the brown sugar, and that’s saying something. Either way, I believe this is a far better way to enjoy Pumpkin Spice than in a latte. Chocolate, spice, AND booze.

Now excuse me. I must go control The Spice ๐Ÿ˜‰

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The Second Most Wonderful Day of the Year

No, I have no idea what the first most wonderful day of the year is. It fluctuates with my mood. Sometimes Christmas, sometimes Thanksgiving, sometimes garbage day. One year it was the day I found $20 in the laundry. Talk about a banner day! I guess you can have several wonderful days of the year, just have to put them in the order that makes you smile the biggest. Sometimes you may end up with a tie or like me, sometimes they are all exceptional days, unique in their own wonderful way. Back to topic, why is today the second most wonderful day?

It’s National Wine Day!!!

That’s right, my friends. Today we celebrate that wonderful spirit, literally. Finally, a day when I don’t need to make up an excuse can pour a glass and sit outside to enjoy my favorite time of day, when the world looks blue. I love to sit and let my mind wander, rambling on from subject to subject. Ok, that happens all the time but today it’s acceptable and encouraged.ย  And if wine isn’t your tipple, feel free to tipple on something else. Any day is a good day to celebrate.

Unless you have to go to the DMV. Then wine afterwards won’t cut it ๐Ÿ˜‰


Panes in the Neck

I’m a big fan of old windows. BIG fan. I must have ten or so in my garage, all waiting to be transformed like I did the one over my mantel. I took a six-pane wood window and sanded the old paint off, then repainted it and made it look old by distressing it with sandpaper.

The irony of removing the old patina to replace with new old patina is not lost on me.

Anyway, I have plans for most of the windows in the garage. But some are what I call “redundant”. I have plans for one in X style, but have three other X style windows and NO IDEA why I got them save the fact that they are old windows. I’m all about renew, reuse, recycle, save money and use vintage. Now, vintage is “in”, so it is getting a bit pricey at the boutique antique places, but you can still find a lot at flea markets and garage sales for way less. Seriously, I found a silver-plated flute for $10 and a typewriter table for $3 at the local flea market. Boutique antique shops would sell those items at premium prices.

By the way, guess where I’m going this weekend? That’s right. I’m gonna pop some tags, I got $20 in my pocket!

Back to the point of this ramble. I have all these old windows. I also have an unremarkable backyard. It slopes in a weird way and has these weird angles. So I went to my rabbit hole, AKA Pinterest and did a search for reusing old windows. And of course, found an easy solution.

Not exactly what I want, but close. I do want one of the windows on hinges so it opens. And I want to use shelf brackets on the joints of the two windows on the roof for decorative purposes. But it’s an idea. And it would free up a lot of stuff in the garage. Um, a lot of breakable stuff.

It’s an adorable (yes, I used that word) addition to the backyard and would be a pretty focal point, as well as a nice place to display sun-loving flowers. As for the rest of the windows, who knows. I thought maybe make end tables, or mirrors, or maybe a curio cabinet.

But for now, one idea at a time ๐Ÿ˜‰


Friday Sithy

Oh dear GAWD I want to make this for Halloween one year.

Steampunk Leia. Tell me that’s not awesome. I dare you ๐Ÿ˜‰


In the Eyes of the Beholding Thrift Shop

I was running errands today, enjoying the 1,675% humidity courtesy of the light rain shower this morning. It’s Wednesday, which means local thrift stores have pulled all their hauls from the weekend for sale. Usually I can find something fun like a pretty glass or tea cup. Those items are pretty easy to recognize. But sometimes I am flabbergasted at how some stuff gets identified.

I was perusing a beautiful dry sink (identified as a “table with drawer”) that was way out of my price range when my eyes alighted on the item inside the bottom shelf.

Pretty, no? And I bet most of you can tell it is a chamber pot. To be precise, an antique Staffordshire porcelain chamber pot in almost perfect condition. No chips, no cracks, and the gilt is almost like new with very few exceptions.

I have a thing for orchids* and I loved the design. You can’t really tell, but the design is outlined in brown and filled in with gold. It hardly had any scratches inside. It was immaculate!

I took it to the front desk to check out and the lady running the register remarked on it. Hilarity ensued.

Cashier: Oh, so happy someone is taking this bowl home. It’s so pretty.

Me: Bowl?

Cashier: Yes, the owner called it a fruit and salad bowl.

Me: A salad bowl??

Cashier: Yes….why?

Me: This is a chamber pot.

Cashier: ………….

Me: ………….

*both of us burst out laughing*

So you see, it’s always a question of angles. One person saw the item in a different way, for a different use. And interpretation, like beauty, is always in the eye of the beholder.

I just hope the previous owner never served food in it. To anyone ๐Ÿ˜€

*I have a thing for most flowers, really, but orchids remind me of home.


Burned

Burned.

Some time ago, someone I considered a friend decided our friendship was too much of a bother. All communication was cut. No explanations, no apologies. I spun scenarios in my head, trying to determine how I messed things up, what I did to cause such a rift to happen. Nothing made sense, every recollection seemed normal. I worried I had hurt feelings, made possible transgressions that were not easy to forgive. In public the banter is still friendly when our paths cross, adding to the confusion. It seemed disconnected, forced.

And then I realized that all I had done wrong was offer an ear. I’m a big believer that a trouble shared is a trouble halved. I lent my shoulder and my ear, and perhaps sharing was something akin to breaking a confidence. Iโ€™ll never know. Itโ€™s a habit of mine to reach out and try to help others when they are distressed or sad. I’ve offered total strangers the comfort of my shoulder as they grieve for a sick relative. This time I got burned. But unlike other people who would learn a lesson from it, I refuse to let it dictate reaching out to others in the future.

Thereโ€™s Bactine for that ๐Ÿ™‚


Cole Portering Over Velvet

One of my favorite songs is I’ve Got You Under My Skin, by Cole Porter. It tends to describe me well when it comes to……well, me going to the thrift store. I see something all dusty and in disrepair and it gets under my skin until I bring my vision to life. Y’all have seen my other blog, Junk and Glue, and know what I mean.

And now, it’s all about velvet. But not just any velvet. Velvet used to be a very expensive fabric. Back in the Middle Ages, it was made solely from silk, which gave it a lustrous sheen and lasted forever. With the advent of industrialization, velvets were made from other fibers such as cotton. And then came synthetic fibers and nowadays velvet is something you can now find off the rack at Targetโ„ข. Good quality velvet is usually made from a mix of rayon and silk. If you want all silk velvet, you will pay hundreds of dollars per yard. And I am neither rich nor insane, so that’s out. But you can’t compromise on the quality of velvet. Cheap velvet falls apart rather quickly, but the good stuff wears well over time, adapting a soft, rich sheen with age and use.

So, now that you have a primer on velvet, you are wondering why I even bring it up. Well, A) it’s my blog and I write the fluff I like, and 2) I want velvet in my life. And I don’t mean a jacket or a shirt, or even a pillow. I mean I want it ALL OVER THE PLACE: furniture, drapes, accessories, rugs, and PJs. I understand I can’t have everything in velvet. But I really,ย really want a sofa in soft, luxurious velvet, with some feather alternative-filled cushioning (real feathers are good and all, but I don’t want to trigger anyone’s allergies, nor do I want quills sticking my skin).

Isn’t she absolutely gorgeous?? Yes, that’s a pink velvet sofa and I want it with the burning power of twelve Betelgeuses. Look how plush it is. I want to be able to sink into the sofa, and the big plus with this is one solid cushion, nowhere for remote, socks, or change to slip between. I want to be Great Garbo and tell people I want to be let alone with my sofa and a cocktail and Netflix. In short, I am old enough to want to luxuriate while I watch “Flea Market Flip” and plan on upcycling a ratty old suitcase into a coffee table.

I am full of contradictions, I know. But I also know me, and I doubt I will ever have a sofa like this. It’s wonderful and classy and feminine, and impractical andย  high-maintenance and over-the-top. So I will just admire her from afar, and dream of the dreams I could have enjoyed while napping upon such luxury.

But a velvet chair? Oh, yeah….That I can justify ๐Ÿ˜‰


Films, Movies, Flicks, and Such

*dusts off blog*

Howdy! Yes, been a while since I blogged here. I have been more active at H&B, but I have been missing writing about fluff. Holidays and Twitter were a time suck, but hopefully I will be back in the blogging groove from now on.

Lately I have been on a roll regarding movies. Back in my younger days, it was part of my job to be very familiar with Hollywood fare. The more I learned about any movie, the more I began to realize just how awesome bad movies were. Sure, the title distinguishes the differences in celluloid: “film” is more artistic, “movie” is more entertainment, and “flick” is completely devoid of sense. And this post is about my favorite flicks. It’s my blog, and I write what I want.

bad-acting-lol

Number 5: Birdemic: Shock and Terror

This is supposedly inspired by Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. Supposedly. It has birds in it, true. We don’t see them until halfway through the flick and though they are attacking humans, it seems they die for some unknown reason. It was also inspired byย An Inconvenient Truth. Sigh…. If you enjoy bad acting, hammy preaching, and exploding bird gifs, this is the movie for you.

Number 4: Manos: The Hands of Fate

Apparently, the writer doesn’t know enough Spanish. This movie is so bad, it borders on greatness because it stemmed from a bet: anyone can make a horror movie. I bet they lost. If anything, watch the MST3K riff of it. It will limit the chance of alcohol poisoning.

Number 3: Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers

I know this is supposed to be a PG blog. But this flick is just too awesome to pass up. Plot centers around a gang of prostitutes who hack up people with chainsaws for their cult. PROSTITUTE CULT!!!

Number 2: Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama

Sorority pledges get paddled, whipped creamed, showered, then they get to B&E in a bowling alley for a trophy which gets broken, releasing an evil imp the wreaks havoc and zombifies the bowheads.

And my all-time favorite flick….

Number 1: Cannibal Women in the Avocado Jungle of Death

Shannon Tweed (whom I adore) plays feminist professor Margo Hunt, who is hired to go into the jungle to investigate the disappearance of a fellow feminist (Adrienne Barbeau) and to secure the the import of avocados for the US while convincing the tribe of female cannibals to move to Malibu. Her guide is played by Bill Maher in the role of an idiot, so a lot of realism here. This plot is delicious on several levels, not the least of which is fighting factions that quibble over whether men should be eaten with salsa or clam dip. Not a euphemism at all.

So, these are just a few of the flicks we at Casa de Aggie enjoy. Thankfully, popcorn goes well with booze, otherwise some of these would be completely intolerable. I hope to do a full drunk blog post for Sorority Babes once friend of the blogiverse Tiberius comes for a visit. Hopefully it will be articulate. Maybe ๐Ÿ˜‰


Paint Can + Fighting Dogs / Fuzzy Slippers = Giant Mess

There are days when a cup of coffee is enough to get me going. Of course, today was not one of those days. Two cups apparently were not enough, either. This is how my day developed….

I completed the coffee ritual and began to take stock of the mess on the kitchen table. I had recently finished making some pincushions and still had the accoutrements scattered around looking like an art exhibit from the MOMA. Anyway, I took some of the stuff out to the garage, and as I was passing the hall bathroom, I noticed the little accent table I had acquired for the nook in the bathroom. It was in need of a quick sanding, so I went back to the garage and gave it a once-over, and brought it back into the kitchen, along with a quart of French Linen chalk paint. I wiped it down and let it dry as I took the rest of the crap to the garage or to the study-slash-catchall room.

(Yes, I have a lot of crap in the study and garage and hopefully it will be out of the house once the vendor spot opens in mid November *sobs quietly*)

Moving on, I get the table set up on the floor and open the can, a full quart of the loveliest dun color ever. I set it on the lowest shelf and begin to paint. Meanwhile, my dogs wander over to see what I am doing, since the scent is different from dog food and leftovers and Sonic tatertots. As they jockey for position to get as close as possible to me without having to deal with the scent, Lenny the big dog steps on Ivy the little dog, which makes Ivy irate and forces her to strike back in the only manner she can: using her itty bitty canines and jump at Lenny’s throat. Well, Lenny does NOT like that and turns to snap back at Ivy, which makes Ivy jump more at Lenny and causes Lenny to swing her body around and hit the table, knocking the paint can to the floor.

“GOOD LORD!!! YOU DOGS!!! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!!! NO!!! GET AWAY!!! GO TO YOUR SPOTS NOW!!! STOP TRYING TO LICK THE PAINT, YOU IDIOTS!!! AND STOP TRYING TO LICK ME WITH THE PAINT!!!”

Yeah….so, I hurriedly shooed them out the backdoor and scooped up as much of the paint as I could. Thankfully is it relatively thick paint so I recovered quite a bit. And being one to not waste not, I simply used the rest of the spilled paint to finish painting the first coat. One thing about chalk paint: clean up is easy. I just wiped the floor clean with a wet rag and scrubbed the grout with a toothbrush. Once I was done, I washed the paint out of my clothes, and then went and showered again, because somehow I had paint in my hair. Aggie’s Axiom #18: no matter what I am painting, or how much I cover my hair, paint will eventually get on it and usually towards the back thus defying explanation.

So yes, that was my morning, and rest assured several lessons were learned here:

  • Never rely on one cup of coffee
  • Make sure to corral the dogs before starting to paint
  • Avoid doggie drama and paint outside

Tomorrow is a new day, and I have a new bag of coffee waiting for me ๐Ÿ˜‰


It’s My Pajama Party And I Cry If I Want To

This is no secret: I love pajamas. I mean, REALLY love pajamas. If I didn’t care about winding up on the People of Walmart site, I would wear them everywhere. Cotton, flannel, modal, fleece….. love them all. I do have my favorites, but they don’t seem to care. They are patient, awaiting their turn to be donned and appreciated.

liesel-pj-legs

Yes, those are wine bottles and glasses on the PJs. Don’t judge me. Anyway, one thing I have noticed is my overabundance of PJs. They are the one item of clothing I seem to overlook when cleaning out my closet and dresser. Ok…. I overlook it because I can’t bear to part with them. But when you are digging around for a set to wear, and find the sets from high school still in the drawer… you know it is time.

So today I will knuckle down, grab a box of tissues, and start to cull the PJ herd. It will hurt. Some of those babies have been my besties through the worst of times, and the best of times. There’s the set that spent time with me in isolation at the hospital, and the set that saw me through the next door neighbor’s fire, and the set that was with me when my brother was born….

He will be 33 this year.

I said don’t judge me!

I better go rip this Band-Aidโ„ข off before I end up crying my eyes out in a pile of PJs like a crazy woma– never mind. It’s too late and y’all know better ๐Ÿ˜‰