Happy Halloweenie from Me and Peenie!

Happy Halloween, friends!

Peanut and I are currently at the house awaiting the trick-or-treaters. When they arrive, they'll be greeted with UNFROSTED vanilla cupcakes (I "out-foxed" the Peanut, tinted them orange, and made them into punkin' faces with chocolate chips), candied apples, and hot Percolator Punch. I've typed recipes below! Enjoy, and if you scroll to the end, you'll see a picture of Peanut in her purple wig!

Vanilla Cupcakes:

4 cups cake flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon table salt

2 sticks salted butter, softened

2 cups sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

4 large eggs, at room temperature

2 cups plain Greek yogurt

1 bag Nestle Toll House Semi-Sweet Morsels

Orange food coloring

Cream together the butter and the sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs in, one at a time. Add vanilla and Greek yogurt. Continue to mix batter. Make sure to scrape down bowl. Add baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Add flour slowly. Add food coloring until desired color is reached.

Bake at 350 for 10-15 minutes, rotating halfway through. Remove from oven and place chocolate chips on cupcakes.

Percolator Punch:

1 qt. apple cider
1 pt. cranberry juice
1 pt. orange juice
1/2 c. sugar
1 tsp. whole allspice
1 tsp. whole cloves
3 cinnamon sticks

Combine cider and both juices in automatic percolator; place sugar, allspice, cloves and cinnamon in percolator basket. Allow to go through heating cycle; serve hot.

Have a safe one, dear friends! I'll leave you with this:

Anyone else think she looks like Garth from Wayne's World? No way? I say, "Way"!

Candied Apples and Unfrosted Cupcakes

Many thanks to all of you who wished me a happy birthday last week! My 26th was almost a full week of celebration, and I'm feeling very spoiled! I had a lovely dinner date with my AmeriCorps gals Abby and Evan on Wednesday, Peanut and I had TWO celebratory lunches on Thursday and Friday, Mom and Dad sent me an incredibly beautiful bouquet of flowers (pictured below, which Peanut placed next to Paw's picture) on my special day, and I spent a fantastic long weekend at home in Greensboro that included a large family meal, and excursions to Saxapahaw, Hanging Rock, and Winston-Salem (in a vintage VW bus) with James (insert extremely large smiley face here). You see? SO spoiled! I returned to Greenville yesterday feeling very loved, celebrated, and sleepy from a weekend of activity! I'm blessed beyond measure, friends.

Now, if that's not enough activity for you, it's on to the next event: Halloween! One of Peanut's favorite holidays. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you that she doesn't celebrate it in the typical way. Peanut does not pass out candy to trick-or-treaters. Cause that would be too predictable, yes? Instead, she hands out homemade candied apples and UNFROSTED vanilla cupcakes to kids in costume...in a purple wig, no less. Don't you worry--I'll post pictures. I want to see Peanut in a purple wig as much as you do! As far as the cupcakes though, I have no idea why they must be (as she insists) unfrosted. Maybe because they're less messy that way? Guess I'll find out. We've set tomorrow as our Halloween prepping day! And depending on how everything turns out, I'll post recipes here later in the week. Peanut wanted to buy boxed cake mix for the cupcakes, but for any of you who know me, I believe boxed cake mix is the cardinal of all sins. So, we're making them from scratch. I just don't know how they'll taste without frosting. Which makes me wonder, if a cupcake doesn't have any frosting, doesn't that make it a muffin? Hmmmm...one of life's deeper questions, for sure.

I'll leave you with this:

When I got back to Greenville yesterday, Peanut asked me to turn around so she could look at my jeans:

Peenie: KATY! You look like you've been poured into those things! How'd you get them on?!

Me: What? Do you think they're too tight on me, Peanut?

Peenie: No! I want a pair!

26

I'm 26 today. Twenty plus six. Thirteen years older than thirteen. Two score and six. Thirty minus four (yikes). Fifty two divided by two (whoa). Today...I am many combinations of numbers. And 66 years younger than Peanut--though I don't think she'd like to be reminded of that!

So, where should you be when you're 26? By society's standards, it's been three years since college, so I should either be midway up the corporate ladder or almost finished with graduate school. I, in case this is news to anyone, am neither. But let me tell you something, friends--I'm glad I'm not. Though I do have to remind myself of that sometimes. Because just like when I see a skinny, beautiful model on television, I sometimes forget who I am and think I should look differently than I do.

The key word in there, though, is forget. These days, it's very easy to forget who we are. We're overstimulated. By technology, our fast-paced environment, the accessibility of EVERYTHING--all are key factors in distracting us from what is important.

I, lucky girl that I am, have only recently realized that I've been given a gift. In this 26th year of my life, I've been given the gift of time with Peanut. I'm seeing life from a different perspective now--the perspective of my grandmother, a member of the Greatest Generation, a woman with 66 more years of life experience than I have--and it's changing my perspective...on EVERYTHING.

In 1941--when my grandparents were coming of age--the corporate ladder, graduate school, and looking like a model were the last things on everyone's minds. During World War II, people were simply trying to survive. And I think it's safe to say that when your survival and the survival of your loved ones is all that you think about, your perspective on life is altered. You can't forget who you are in a situation like that. Who you are and where you are (and where the people you love are) is staring you straight in the face 24/7. Because of this, you learn to know what's valuable and what's not. PEOPLE become valuable. Family becomes valuable. Not things, not degrees, not impressive careers, not your own vanity. People. Relationships. Love. 

I think that this instinct is engrained in the minds of the Greatest Generation. In the Millennial Generation, however, this instinct appears to be lost. That's why I am so grateful, on my 26th birthday, to not be climbing the corporate ladder, to not be buried in a stack of books, to not be trying the newest diet or cleanse. I am grateful for this gift of time with my grandmother. And I am hoping that in this year with Peanut, this instinct of remembrance rather than forgetfulness will rub off on me. That maybe, somehow, in a year's time, I can become a member of the Greatest Generation by exposure to the elements. That's what I want for my birthday. More time with Peanut. More time for remembrance. For family. For people. For relationships. For love.

I'll leave you with this:

Just look at what was on my pillow last night.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

I remember having a conversation once with my brother, Mitch, in which I expressed to him how much I love the Fall and all that it entails. Colorful leaves, hot drinks, fireplaces, holidays, more family time, cozy clothes, pumpkin patches, shorter days, decorations, crisp air. He told me that I love Fall because I'm an "October girl", which I must say is at least partly true because my birthday is the 24th. However, I don't think you have to have an October birthday to know just how magical this season is. Take a drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway in the next few weeks and see if you don't agree with me. Look at the color of those leaves! See? Magic.

Fall was Paw's favorite season too, and he was an April birthday (day before Mitch's, in fact), so that proves my theory right there! He loved it. It was the season where he canned his fruit, visited his beloved Limerick Plantation, ate his favorite foods (Peenie says he craved a good, hearty chili and boiled peanuts), enjoyed the changing color of the leaves, and it was the season where he frequently quoted the poem, "When the Frost is on the Punkin", by his favorite poet, James Whitcomb Riley:

WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best,	5
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here—	10
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock—	15
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;	20
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps	25
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...
I don't know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me—	30
I'd want to 'commodate 'em—all the whole-indurin' flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

I can hear him reading it now. Isn't that just the most simple, wonderful, and sweet thing? It's become one of my favorite poems. Because of Paw, yes, but also because I know those feelings! I'm a-feelin' at my best in the Fall--always have! It's definitely the season that I'd want to host anyone as company--angels, friends, even foe. For me at least, the season inspires sharing.

Hope you enjoyed "When the Frost is on the Punkin", and that it got you in the Fall spirit. Here's another share, for good measure. I memorized this short poem in the fourth grade. "Fall, Leaves, Fall", by Emily Bronte:

---

Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree. 

I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when night's decay
Ushers in a drearier day.

---

Nothing like two good poems in celebration of the best season EVER!

So, get out there and enjoy that crisp air and those beautiful leaves! I, myself, plan to go on a long run through them both.

I'll leave you with this:

Speaking of accommodating angels, Peanut says she hosted some while I was in North Carolina this weekend. Even though she hates Fall (too cold, she says), I guess she was still in an accommodatin' mood.

...Wonder if she let them use the kitchen?

Hunt for the Perfect Handbag

I've realized another similarity between me and Peanut. Joked with James the other night that she's influencing me so much that by this time next year, he might be dating a hybrid of the two of us. By then, I'll probably have cut my hair into a bob with one side turned under, one turned out. I'll be applying Orange Flip to my lips every five minutes, saying "Oh FOOT" every ten, re-washing dishes, and demanding crackers to accompany my soup at restaurants. My saving grace, however, will be that I'll make the best pot of coffee in the world, so maybe that's why he didn't run for the hills. Lucky for me, coffee's a pretty good bargaining chip with James. 

The recent observed similarity: Peanut and I are both constantly on the hunt for the perfect handbag. We're a little obsessed. But we're also delusional because we think that ever elusive bag of perfection is ACTUALLY out there! Sometimes, we even think we've finally found it! And we get SO excited! But then about a month into using the bag of our dreams, we're all like, "No...this isn't it. The right bag must still be out there somewhere. Gotta keep looking."

Common issues include:

-Too many pockets.

-Not enough pockets.

-The wrong color with the right hardware.

-The right color with the wrong hardware.

-Too large.

-Too small.

-Too expensive.

-Too cheap.

Etcetera, etcetera, and so forth. Currently, Peanut is carrying an orange (duh) LongChamp tote with an alligator handle, and I'm using a black leather crossbody purse with stitching and faux fur detail. The other day, after struggles with our own bags, we actually considered trading. But then we talked about how if we morphed our bags together, they might just be (drumroll please) THE PERFECT BAG! Gasp! But seriously. I mean, think about it. A burnt orange and black crossbody tote with alligator handles, stitching, and faux fur detail. Yes? Yes?

...Ok, maybe not. Sounds a little busy. But we think if it was worked just right, it would be THE PERFECT BAG. We'll call it...the Kanut. Or...the Peaty. Or...some other form of our names squished together.

See? The hybrid formation is already happening.

I'll leave you with this:

This morning, Peanut accidentally set off the house alarm at 6:30 am. Proved more effective at waking me up than The Star Spangeled Banner...by a long shot.

Love One Another

Today I had one of those mornings where everything just...connected. That ever happen to you? I just love it when it does. When recent things I've read, seen, heard, and felt all register in my mind simultaneously, echoing the same message, causing me to step back and go, "Wow. Katy, have long have you been asleep?" Well apparently, it's been a while. Cause this morning's message was simple, profound (as these moments tend to be), and hit me like a ton of bricks. It was only, "Love One Another."

In Thornton Wilder's play "Our Town", the character Emily poses the question, "Does anyone ever realize life while they live it...every, every minute?"

This is what I'm talking about, friends. The answer to that question is, obviously (and unfortunately), "No". Not every minute. In my case anyways, it's pure Providence if I am aware (even on a weekly basis) of how fragile both my existence and the existence of my loved ones are. And anyone who's outside of that bubble? Ashamedly, I am probably only aware of those people every few months or so. I'm distracted and I'm selfish. I take my sweet time, thinking I (and everyone else) have much of it to spare. And that's the irony of it, friends--we take time for granted, never knowing how much we really have. But even if we did know the number of our days, would we THEN realize every minute of life? Maybe. And yet, maybe not even then. 

MUTEMATH, one of my favorite bands, has a song called "Clockwork". The lyrics are:

---

Time is a thief with a loaded gun

The sky runs by while the days are gone

The night falls prey to another sun

All like clockwork they won't stop

Don't stand still, or we'll lose our ground

The world keeps spinning just to wear us down

Say what you must while we're still around

The days go to sleep but they won't stop

We never should allow another sun to set

On all the words that we have held so long

I know we'd rather sort it out once tomorrow comes

But tomorrow already happened

Today we have to make the most of love

Tomorrow we don't have a choice

All we ever get control of is now

---

Those last lyrics always get me. Today we have to make the most of love. Tomorrow we don't have a choice. All we ever get control of is now. 

After jamming to that old album in my car a few weeks ago, I've been trying to remind myself of that message on a daily basis, especially in relation to Peanut. You know I adore her, friends. But sometimes she's a little much to handle. She's a stubborn little nut, after all. Especially when her kitchen is involved. 

Last night, as we were cleaning up after dinner, she took a dish that I had just rinsed and placed in the dishwasher out of the dishwasher. She then wiped it with a cloth, re-rinsed it, and placed it back in the dishwasher. "Small potatoes" as that may be, I was a little frustrated. I sighed, tipped my head back, and was about to roll my eyes when they focused in on this:

And there's that message again. Love One Another. Boom. 

Peanut has many of these needlepoint pieces throughout the house. This one, for some reason, has always been my favorite. I love the color and detail, the frame, its location over the window; but I think I'm beginning to appreciate it now for its message more than anything. Yea...the little old lady who stitched it would probably giggle and shake her head at that last statement. That's one of my greatest faults, friends. My eyes are so drawn to anything aesthetic that I sometimes miss the message. You feel me? Well, last night, the message grabbed me and held on.

...Until this morning when I woke up and forgot it again.

...UNTIL I read this post on Don Miller's blog:

http://storylineblog.com/2013/10/15/are-cell-phones-ruining-our-relationships/?utm_content=buffer71f9c&utm_source=buffer&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=Buffer

In the post, Dean Nelson asks the question, "Are cell phones ruining our relationships?" Pretty standard 21st century question, first-world problems, etc. Right? But instead of the article predictably blasting cell-phone usage, it takes an interesting turn. It's actually a self-reflection piece by the author himself, wherein he examines his judgement of strangers. He refers to an inspirational speech by David Foster Wallace where Wallace encouraged his audience to, "stop presuming we know what everyone’s motives are, to stop putting ourselves and our own outrage in the middle of everything so that we can maybe understand someone else’s story". Nelson then shares a few personal recollections of impressions of strangers being dead wrong. He closes with a quote by Mr. Rogers: "There isn’t anyone you can’t love once you’ve heard their story.”

*Cue my mother's laughter* (Inside joke between the two of us.) 

...And, there you go. "Love one another" is, once again, brought to my attention. And now, hopefully yours!

To land this plane, let me end with another Thornton Wilder quote. He once said, "We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” 

Agreed, Mr. Wilder. But to add, we can't be conscious of our treasures if we do not love one another. So in closing, love one another, friends. Remind yourself to daily, and experience a few more moments of being alive.

The French Baguette

And now it's time for another round of "Peenie Dislikes"! Today's topic of hatred? One of the most wonderful things in the world--the French baguette.

Imagine for a moment that you're in a strange city. It's below freezing out, the wind is blowing, you're not dressed warmly enough, and you're trying to find somewhere to duck inside. Suddenly, you stumble upon a charming little French cafe. You open the door and are immediately greeted with the delicious aromas of the two most complimentary things on the planet, the duo of deliciousness, the answer to every wearied travelers ills: a freshly baked baguette and a cup of hot soup. You order a cup of steaming French onion accompanied by a huge hunk of baguette to dip into it. You're in heaven, yes? Yes. Because what is more simplistically perfect than a bowl of French onion soup and a fresh baguette? Hmmm? Okay, if you're stumped, the correct answer would be nothing.

Well, if you disagree, then Peanut disagrees along with you. Disagrees wholeheartedly. If there's one thing that gets her more jacked up than politics, it's restaurants that offer no crackers or white rolls--only the French baguette. 

Today we went to Panera for lunch. Not a charming little French cafe, I know. But they make a durn good baguette--and bagel, for that matter! Now, Peanut has only recently been introduced to Panera. She likes it, but would much rather eat an egg roll at Oriental House or snag a sandwich from Chik-Fil-A. However, Panera's recently vamped up their menu--more greens, organic chicken, etc--so I've been trying to encourage the little nut to eat there more. It's just a healthier choice! She digs the soup and salads and the coffee, but becomes irate when there are no rolls or crackers to be had. Today's exchange with the cashier went something like this:

Peenie: Hi! I'd like a cuppa veggie soup and a small coffee.

Cashier: Sure! Would you like chips, bread, or an apple with that soup?

Peenie: Crackers, please.

Cashier: I'm sorry, we don't have crackers. Can I offer you chips, a baguette or an apple?

Peenie: I don't like those baguettes. Too hard. No crackers?! What kinda place doesn't serve crackers with their soup?!

Cashier: Um...well, we have chips? Chips are...kind of like crackers?

Peenie: What?! (Laughing) Chips are most certainly NOT crackers!

Katy: Peenie, just tell the lady what you'd like for your side. You don't have to eat it if you don't want to.

Peenie: Oh. Ok, I'll take the bread. But next time, I'm bringing my OWN crackers.

(A few moments later, at the table.)

Peenie: I don't like this bread. It's too durn hard!

Katy: Dip it in your soup, Peenie--that'll make it easier to eat.

Peenie: I don't like it. We should've gone to Oriental House.

...sigh.

I'll leave you with this:

Last Thursday, after we had eaten dinner, Peanut asked me what my plans for the evening were. I told her I didn't know--that I might put my pajamas on early, sip some tea, and read. What followed:

Peenie: Why don't you go out and DO something? Are you tired?

Katy: No, not too tired. Just feel like taking it easy tonight.

Peenie: I wish you'd go do something.

Katy: Alright, Peenie. Tell you what. I'm gonna go run around the neighborhood naked. What you think about that?

Peenie: I'll come right along behind you and do it, too!

20 Questions

Peanut likes to play 20 questions with me...at 7:30 in the morning. Every. Single. Morning. If I haven't emerged from my bedroom by 7:35, she'll come up to my door and say, "KATE??? Did you oversleep?!" In case you're wondering: I never have. So I'll answer, "No Peenie, I'm awake. At least...I am now." But of course she doesn't hear me. And she'll keep calling me until I come to the door and show her that I am, in fact, awake.

Those of you who know me pretty well know that I'm not a morning person. Never have been. Now, this doesn't mean that I'm mean or hateful before 8 am--just a little out of it. My brain takes a while to catch up with the rest of my body, and I'm kinda slow until I get that first cup of coffee. Peanut, on the other hand, wakes up at 5:30 and has about 3 cups of coffee before I walk into the kitchen, so by 7:30, she is JACKED UP. I enter the kitchen and it goes something like this:

"How'd you sleep, Kate?"

"What time you gotta be at work?"

"What are you gonna wear?"

"Is it cold out?"

"What are you gonna do at work today?"

"Do you have something to pack for lunch?"

"Do you need some money?"

"What time will you be home?"

"Do you have something to cook for dinner?"

"Do you need anything from the store?"

All of these, right in a row, before I can even answer them. I mostly just smile sweetly at her and sip my coffee. That usually does the trick, and she starts to calm herself down.

So imagine my surprise last night when she looked at me across the dinner table as we were talking and said, "Katy, why are you asking me so many questions all in a row?" Hahahaha! "Grand-apple doesn't fall far from the grand-tree", I said. She just grinned at me and giggled.

I'll leave you with this:

Not only does Peanut's telephone system play The Star Spangled Banner, it also plays Ode to Joy. Yep, apparently it's got a musical repertoire.

And speaking of musical repertoire(s), one of my favorite bands, the Avett Brothers, have a new album coming out on the 15th. Right now, you can stream it (and I'd recommend you do so) for free at NPR.com. I just started listening this morning, and I already have a favorite. It's called "Souls like the Wheels". It's lovely as lovely can be, and a perfect message for me at this time in my life--a time where I am trying to put myself and all my baggage on the back burner and focus on Peanut. Give it a listen. Here are the lyrics:

Souls like the Wheels

Souls like the wheels

Turning, taking us with wind at our heels

Burning, making us decide on what we're giving

Change this way of living

One little song

Give me strength to the leave the sad and the wrong

Buried safely in the past where I've been living

Alive but unforgiving

Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go

One little girl

Bring me light from where I thought it was dark

Be the spark that has a chance to light a candle

Love that I can handle

Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go

Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go

Souls like the wings

Spreading out away from bad memories

Make us capable of taking off and landing

Alive with understanding

Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go

Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go

Pure Gold

This stuff right here, my friends, is pure gold.

THIS is a jar of my Paw's delicious pear preserves, canned around this time last year when he was still with us. Ask anyone in our family, and they'll tell you that these jars are precious, as there are only a few left. I've often thought about making some. It's a lovely thought, isn't it? Carrying on the tradition. But sadly, there are a few problems:

1. I THINK I know where the recipe is, but I'm not certain that it's the right one. I wish I'd asked him.

2. Paw's pears didn't come in this year. They must've somehow known that he wasn't going to be here to take care of them.

3. Peanut would go peaNUTS if I were to attempt to make them, and I'm afraid The Great Kitchen Debate would commence all over again.

4. I'm not Paw. And no matter how good (or bad) mine turn out, I know they'd never be better than his. Simply because he made them.

As I smeared some on my toast this morning at breakfast, I thought about how many years he made preserves (he made fig, too). Slowly and steadily churning them out, giving them to his loved ones, never asking for anything in return--as was his way in everything. I don't think I ever told him how much I loved to see all of the golden jars of them boxed up, how yummy I thought they were, how much I appreciated the hours and days and YEARS he spent on them. Yes, YEARS. He planted the trees himself and watched them grow. And then every Fall when the fruit was perfectly ripe, he harvested, washed, peeled, cooked, and canned. He loved it. And He loved the process, not just the product. Paw was a tortoise, not a hare. And the older I get, the more I want to be just that way, too. Slow and steady wins the race. Heck, slow and steady actually remembers and maybe even enjoys the race!

If I could, I'd give a jar of Paw's preserves to each of you, friends. But I can't. Because there'd be no way to send them, yes. And because there aren't enough to go around and I want to make them last as long as I can. But keep this sentiment: take this post and picture as a virtual jar of Paw's preserves from me to you. Go outside and enjoy the glorious Fall weather! And try to be more of a tortoise and less of a hare today--I will, too.

I'll leave you with this:

Last night, as Peanut sat at the dinner table sipping her chocolate shake from Chik-Fil-A (she did get a tooth pulled, so I had to oblige her junk food craving), she said:

"Katy, my teeth are missing that back molar already. They feel kinda shaky. Like something should be there that's not. Just like me without Paw."

Nightwatchman Pulls a Tooth

Peanut and I paid a visit to the Nightwatchman today--at his day job!

I think I've mentioned before that Uncle Toddie is a dentist. He has a beautiful practice right around the corner from Greenville's glorious Falls Park. Here's a pic of Camperdown Falls Dentistry, aka: workplace of some of mine and Peenie's favorite people: Toddie, Missy, Lisa, and Caleb. Side note: Missy and Lisa (shout-out), the funniest hygienists on the planet, would totally qualify as the two other "mouths of the South"--I guess this means that Edwards men have to have them at work and at home. You can't put a price on entertainment, friends! Life really is better with laughter. And there's a lot of that at this place:

We paid Toddie a visit today because the Peanut had to get a tooth pulled. Poor thing. It's just not her week--she also has to go get her foot (Oh, FOOT!) worked on this Friday. Lots of Peanut happenings. PAINFUL Peanut happenings. You wouldn't know it, though. How many people DANCE after they get a tooth pulled? Yes, I said dance--Peanut did a little jig. Don't believe me? Here she is, smiling, right afterward:

Wish I'd gotten a video of the little jig. Seriously the cutest (and strangest) thing I've ever seen. Anyway,  she's doing awesomely right now, but please pray she makes quick recoveries from both the dental appointment today and the podiatry appointment on Friday. Coveting your prayers, friends!

I'll leave you with this:

Stephanie Vestal (shout-out...love you, Steph!) asked me to interview Peanut on the subject of relationships. I believe this will have be an in-depth story for another entry, but I did ask her last night to tell me what she thinks makes a relationship work.

"Paw and I were best friends...and I'm so lonely for him now", she said. "We really trusted each other."

We're Still Alive!

Dear Readers,

I realize that the Peenie blog has been neglected the past few days. So has Peanut, unfortunately. Forgive me. My sincerest apologies (to both you and Peanut)! You see, I had quite a busy end to the week and a weekend out of town...

On Thursday, James and I went to the Grace Potter concert in Charlotte. Repeat after me: GIRL CRUSH. Sorry, James! But seriously. That woman is a total badass (don't tell Peenie I said badass) and I swear she has perfect pitch. If you've never seen her live, put it on your concert bucket list. Well worth the ticket price! 

Any of you watch Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives on the Food Network? Well, James and I (really, James should get credit cause this was his thing long before I came along) have gotten in the habit of going to some of the places that Guy Fieri visits on the show. So far, we've been to 3 in Charlotte. Cabo Fish Taco, Dish, and The Penguin. The first two did not disappoint, but my advice to you on The Penguin? Skip it.

(Side note: I realize that this blog might be in danger of becoming not only the Peanut blog, but also a food and restaurant review blog, but I just gotta! Besides, Peanut likes food, so it totally relates.)

The Penguin. Cute diner ambiance, but they didn't have this certain spinach salad that we both had been eyeing on the online menu, had no Diet Coke, no chicken (???!!!), and we waited for 30 minutes for food that never came. Needless to say, we left. Walked to Fuel Pizza around the corner and had slices of ricotta cheese pizza with heirloom tomatoes and fresh basil. Noms. Obviously recommend. And after the concert, we made another visit to Amelie's French Bakery (I think we're becoming regulars there--which I don't mind IN THE LEAST), and split pain au chocolate and an autumn-inspired latte. What I have to say about those: my beloved Camino Bakery in Winston-Salem makes a better pastry (shout-out!) and the latte was a little rich. But I heart Amelie's. It's fun and French AND open 24/7, so why would you not go? Oui, oui! C'est si bon.

On Friday and Saturday, mother dearest and I transported flowers and cake from Greensboro to Blowing Rock for the wedding of my godbrother, Aaron, to his (now) wife, Courtney, who told me at the wedding that she's a fan of the Peenie blog! So, here's a shout-out to Court. You were a beautiful bride (Peanut agrees--I showed her some pictures), and both Peanut and I thank you for following our adventures and cheering us on! We're cheering you and Aaron on in your new adventure, too!

On Sunday, I met James (long distance may be sucky, but we're making it work the foodie way) in Davidson for lunch at Toast Cafe (not one of Guy Fieri's, but YUM), and then we went to the Renaissance Festival. Yep, we're nerdy and we know it. Don't hate. And guess what? Even though it was 1,000 degrees outside, still SO fun! Go, friends, go! Both 4th grade Katy and 25 year-old Katy say the Renaissance Festival rocks (cause that's how long it's been). 

So here's where Peanut comes into this weekend's events.

When I got home last night, she was sound asleep, but when I walked into the kitchen this morning for breakfast, the little nut practically jumped my bones cause she was so happy to see me! It was adorable.

"KATYYYYY! I missed youuuuu!"

So sweet. 

And I missed her, too--just in case anyone was wondering!

I'll leave you with this:

My brother, Mitch, has been nominated for homecoming king this weekend at Appalachian State. And guess who he wants his escort to be? PEANUT! And although I don't know if that will actually happen, how cute is that thought? Just picture the little 92 year-old nut in her leopard jacket with freshly applied Orange Flip walking Mitch onto that field. Makes me grin from ear to ear just thinking about it!

Junk Food Junkie

You'd never know it by looking at her, but Peanut is a junk food junkie.

She has a drawer full of Snickers bars in the kitchen that I happened upon last week. There's a ziplock bag of Oreos in the pantry that is quickly depleting. She's always up for an ice cream cone at Spill the Beans when we walk the bridge at Falls Park. She eats an egg roll almost everyday for lunch. Last weekend, we went to Mimi's Cafe and she ordered a patty melt and fries. On Monday, she asked me if I wanted to go get a milkshake. Last night, she wanted to go get cheeseburgers for dinner.

Oh, dear. 

But we didn't go out last night. Her little foot (Oh, FOOT) has been bothering her, so I made some soup for myself, and she ate her usual bowl of cereal. Except, last night, I learned something about her nightly cereal. Friends, she does not douse her cereal with milk. She fills the bowl with HALF AND HALF.

!!!

Yea. I'd been wondering why we've been going through half and half so quickly. I mean, I only put a little bit in my coffee at breakfast and she drinks her coffee black. That's certainly not enough to go through three quarts in a week! But a bowl full of half and half every night? Yep, that'll probably run you about three quarts-worth. Three quarts of half and half a week, a drawer full of Snickers bars, and a pantry stocked with Oreos. Throw in an obsession with applewood smoked bacon, and I think we've got ourselves a little junk food junkie: Peanut.

Here she is at the Olive Garden last week, after she had just eaten two breadsticks:

 

Doesn't she look happy? It's the junk food. And the leopard sweater that mom and I gave her. So chic.

The Trash Fairy

Peanut either has an aversion to or an obsession with trash cans. I can't quite figure out which.

 

This is the very small trash can in my bathroom. Actually, it's more of a wicker waste-basket. Or...it might be just a basket. Anyway, whatever it is, I use it for trash. You can't really put much in it, so I rarely do use it except for the occasional tissue or wrapper. But when it is used, something amazing happens--in less than an hour, it just magically disappears. I like to think that there's a little trash fairy that flits about the house from basket to basket, collecting the contents of each and converting it all to fairy dust. What a charming thought, yes?

In reality, the trash fairy is actually Peanut. Though I must say, she is pretty magical about it--cause I never see her collecting! She's a quick little nut.

Some more trash rules in the house:

1. There's no trash can allowed in the kitchen (oddly enough, the one room in the house where a trash can is absolutely necessary), only a trash bag that sits upon a chair and is swiftly taken down to the basement the minute it becomes halfway full.

2. Peanut gets EXTREMELY upset with me if she sees me dragging the large trash bins up from the street. Apparently, that's just "not something a lady does" (side note--ladies also do NOT, under ANY circumstances, pump their own gas). Nope, dragging the trash cans to and from the street is another duty of The Nightwatchman. Though, sometimes when the little nut isn't watching, I drag them back up to the house to help him out a little, maybe also encouraging him to look the other way should I ever miss another Peenie Curfew...

I'll leave you with this:

Last night as we were eating dinner and going over the day's events, Peanut told me about the telephone repairman that had visited the house earlier that day:

Peenie: "Katy! That guy stayed so late I thought he was going to spend the night with me!"