Friday Fragments: Confusing Things

The topic at The Daily Post a couple of days ago was “What Confuses You About Life The Most?”

Listen, y’all, I can safely say that there are a lot of things that confuse me. (Yes, I am blond, too. Stop smirking.)

Take this picture, for instance. On the outside, it was a lovely, yellow lemon. One would have no clue that this black mess was lurking inside of it. What the hello is that? Did it float up out of the oil spilled Gulf or are we really using too many pesticides on our food?

All I know is – I sure ain’t putting a slice of that thang in my sweet tea.

One of the bloggers I follow, Mrs. 4444 at Half Past Kissin’ Time, does this thing on Fridays called Friday Fragments. I’ve been wanting play since forever, so today’s post is a two-fer. (That’s two topics in one blog post, in case you’re, like me, blonde easily confused.)

I won the fabulous privilege of being on the front page of yesterday. It’s called Freshly Pressed. I’m so thrilled! I had over 1700 views and over 50 comments so far. I will never have the time to respond to all of them.

But? This confuses me, too, I admit. I know my post Going Home was touching, but I would have never thought it would garner so much attention. I’ve written funny posts (well, to me) and racy posts (again, to me) which I thought would have grabbed more interest. I guess I really have no clue what folks like to read. So? I’ll just keep writing whatever I can come up with each day about thoughtful subjects and see what happens.

Another thing that confuses me: When you go to a restaurant that has the seating capacity for over a hundred, in the middle of the week, at four o’clock in the afternoon, and there are three other customers already seated, why on earth would the hostess lead you over to the worst table in the house and make you sit all clustered up in the corner, with no view, at a table so tiny you can’t fit more than two plates, two water glasses and a bottle of ketchup on it?

This past week, we went to The Pit in Raleigh (which has been featured on Man vs Food, y’all!) and I really wanted to write a glowing review, but the aforementioned seating misfortune happened to us.

It kind of killed the whole “glowing” part.

Yes, I asked to be moved, and yes, they acted slightly put out. Why? It’s not like the restaurant was likely to be get filled up at that time of day. (It didn’t.)

We had been to The Pit one time before, and loved the food. Really, really loved it. But we couldn’t remember exactly where it was located. We figured – no problem! Not only did we have our trusty GPS, whom we have lovely nicknamed Bitch From Hell Kay, but we figured a place as infamous as The Pit from the travel channel would be known far and wide by everyone in Raleigh.


Not only had Kay never heard of it (she kept trying to route us to Smithfield’s Chicken and BBQ) but the two folks we stopped and asked directions of had never heard of it, either!

It was very confusing.

So I did the most logical thing I could think of; I texted my best friend in Maryland, who I knew was on a bus on her way home from work at the time, (and who has never been to The Pit and probably never heard of it) and asked her to find the address on her smart phone for me.

Within five minutes, we had the address typed into the GPS and were on the way!

Speaking of things I did this past week, I have spent an inordinate amount of time in front of the bathroom mirror, y’all. Doing one of the most confusing and embarrassing things a fifty-three year old woman can do.

I had to use my expensive old-lady concealer  to cover a Monster Zit.

This zit was so big, I almost called off from work. Seriously. It was the biggest zit ever in the entire history of the world. Even when I was thirteen years old and had the complexion of a can of Crisco and a huge crush on Bobby Sherman, I never had a zit this big!

Again, why?  There is just something wrong with having wrinkles, grey hair, a saggy chin, baggy  knees and acne at the same time. And please don’t tell me it is another symptom of menopause.( I already have the first thirty-four. Including permanent confusion occasional forgetfulness)

So that’s a recap on some things that have befuddled me this week. How about y’all? What has confused you lately?

Yee Haw, Y’all!

I’m so thrilled, so flabbergasted, so excited  cain’t hardly BREATH, y’all! Today was one of those Red-Letter-Mark-Your-Calender Days –  I got chosen to be on the front page of WordPress’s Freshly Pressed!

What makes it so gooses-bumpy excitin’ is that the folks over at Freshly Pressed picked a blog post of mine (Going Home) that just happens to be about my favorite subject – my hometown of Wilmington, North Carolina! I am so passionate about this beautiful spot of earth, that I used to own and publish a magazine about it! Called Scene Magazine, started by my dear Uncle Joe in 1975, it was a tribute to the people, the places and the beauty of my hometown.

As of the time of this writing, I have had 1032 visitors today, and have gotten 38 comments. A good day for me is about 40 visitors and five or six comments, so this is extraordinary!

Many of today’s comments have been about my dear, departed Grandmama Gladys. An artist, a writer, a poet,  a life-long Wilmingtonian who lived to be a ripe old age of 96, and quite possibly one of the world’s best Southern cooks, she was my inspiration and my teacher. Many of my blog posts have been about her, and I have another blog, called Rock of Gibraltar, that is about the story of her life, and showcases many of her poems.

As I read through the comments today, I could not stop the sudden rush of tears, and the feeling that, somehow, she knows and she is proud of me.

Oh, and the photo of the little cutie-pie in the cowboy hat? Yesterday my grandson, Kole, had some glamour shots taken at a wonderful photography studio here, in Wilmington.

Y’all should have seen me, and the crazy things I was doing to get him to smile! Jumping up and down, waving a blue feather  boa around, holding a toy in my teeth while growling like a dog and lying cheek-down against the carpet, hiding my big ole head behind a large block so I could play “peep-eye.”

Anyways, it was successful session, judging by the amount of photos I have to buy frames for, and I feel like the World’s Most Accomplished Grandma for all the smiles I coaxed out of him.

He smiles quickly and easily when he sees me. He’s my pride and joy, and I can’t wait to introduce him to all that our southern hometown has to offer. After all, what else are Grandmas for?