Lunch Date

It's my favorite time of the week.


For days before, giddy possibilities fill my mind. It could be fish, a sandwich, a hamburger or even barbecue. It could be ice cream or pizza, or even soup and salad.



It could be on a Friday or a Saturday, a Monday or a Sunday. It could be at eleven or one, twelve or two.



It could be downtown or a few blocks from the house. It could be out of town or at the drive through around the corner.



Sometimes I'm in dance pants, sometimes I'm in a fancy dress. Sometimes I've taken a shower, sometimes I smell like a sewer.


But it's ok.





Because even if I talk too much about myself, smear icing or barbecue sauce all over my face or wear a cracker on my head, you just smile.



And even when I demand dessert at every occasion and steal bites of your leftover hamburger, you think it's cute.

And even when I pick yuppie sandwich places because I was fooled by the cute pink tables and fall into a wallowing funk, you buy me a cupcake to cheer me up.






Because at lunch, it's just us. It's not about the puppies, it's not about work, it's not about family or friends or the people sitting at the table next to us.



And even now, my favorite time of the week is a lunch date.



With you.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a week full of whimsical fun! We've got a new gift tomorrow and the promised wedding post Tuesday. In addition, we've got a new Twirl, classic Pond recipe of one of the Blond Duck's favorite foods and the Babies' Birthday (will they get their peanut butter puppy pie?) Stay tuned to find out!

The Gift 7

For the previous edition of the Gift, go here.


A few hours later, they were all in a car barreling towards Samantha's hometown. With flat-ironed hair, artfully-lined eyes and a sweater dress hugging every inch of her body, Samantha felt like she was being shown at the big city livestock fair. She had expressed the sentiment to Ashley earlier. Ashley merely snorted and flung a pair of silver hoops at her.

"Ok, Samantha, you're not thinking clearly," Ashley had informed her, pulling on dark jeans that looked more like tights. "Let's go over the facts again, shall we?" She paused with her jeans half-way up her thighs, ticking the points off on her fingers.

"You get a mysterious package hidden in the hutch, addressed to you from a mysterious Me who ends everything with "Until Sunset." The package contains a flower that spit out a diamond and blue topaz Celtic love symbol. Now, your best male friend from Ireland who was madly in love with you for years opened up a club in your hometown called Until Sunset. Do the math."

"I haven't spoken to Rouge in years," Samantha protested, pulling at the hem of her sweater dress. She frowned at the tall boots Ashley pointed at. "I'm going to look like a hooker. And I feel like a stuffed sausage in this dress. I have eaten far too much to wear something this tight."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "The point is to look sexy. Some guy sent you a diamond necklace and you want to show up in sweatpants?"

Samantha wasn't so opposed to the idea. Shifting in the stiff car seats, she shuffled her feet. Sweatpants would have been really nice right now. She had gone from feeling like a stuffed sausage to a sardine.

"I don't get it," Jeremy whined from the backseat. "Why are we driving 200 miles to go to a club? I thought the whole point of this trip was to relax in Sam's parents cabin?"

Samantha grit her teeth at the name. "You didn't have to come," she reminded him sweetly.

"You could have watched the work out DVDs you gave Samantha for Christmas," Cleo pointed out, an edge to her sweet smile.

"I couldn't let you girls go down here alone," Jeremy protested. "Someone has to protect you. Besides, I still am Samantha's boyfriend."

The car grew silent for a moment. The unspoken words for now hung in the air. Samantha shivered and pressed her face to the window.

"You didn't even get breakfast," Ashley griped, breaking the silence. "How are you going to protect us if you couldn't even get us a egg McMuffin?"

The girls burst into laughter, and Jeremy sulked and crossed his arms. He didn't speak another word until the girls pulled into Samantha's hometown.

"This is where you grew up?" he asked, his eyes bugging out. He stared at the wooden cottages and snug brick houses that trickled into a Main Street speckled with ancient brick buildings and long wooden stores. "This looks like Mayberry or something. It's straight out of the 1950s. Why would anyone open up a club here?"

"It's only a few miles from a major metropolitan city," Ashley pointed out, her eyes snapping. "Most people commute. Besides, it's not small. 30,000 people live here. This is the historic part of downtown."

"People who like family values and fresh air move here," Cleo added, her lips pursed. "People that don't want their kids growing up in traffic and drug-infested barrios." Cleo had grown up in a town of 1000 people.

"I thought your parents were loaded," Jeremy said, a horrified look crossing his face as an old man drove past him on a tractor. "Why did you live in this po-dunk place if you could have lived in a high rise condo downtown? How did they ever make their money?"

Samantha's jaw dropped and her eyes flared. Without a word, she and her friends turned on their heel and walked to the nearest diner. Jeremy stood in the street, scratching his head and shrieking as a trailer full of cows rattled by.


By the time evening fell, everyone was desperate for a drink. They walked up to the entrance of the club. Bright gold letters announcing "Until Sunset" scrolled across a brand new wooden building. Through thick glass windows, she could see golden swirling embellishments painted near the ceiling on dark wooden walls. The bar was sleek dark mahogany and dotted with bottles of alcohol on thin dark shelves. The tables were thick with leather bar stools and luscious couches curled in the corners for intimate conversations. It screamed edge and tradition in the same breath.

She didn't know how he had done it, but she knew he had done it. Every touch was his. The band in the back began to play, and she took a deep breath. Her stomach was curled into a hard knot that ached every every step she took. She could feel her jaw beginning to tighten and she forced herself to relax.

It was just rouge, after all.

"Hot damn, I need a shot!" Jeremy howled, shoving around her and interrupting her thoughts. He pushed past Ashley and she stomped on his foot with her stiletto boot. Jeremy swore and hopped up and down, his face red and his eyes shining with moisture.

"What did you do that for, you stupid"--

"If you say one more word, I'm going to shove a margarita glass"-- Ashley broke off when Samantha grabbed her arm. "I'm sorry, but you don't shove past ladies."

"Who said you were a lady?" Jeremy taunted. Cleo stepped on his other foot with her own high heel and he howled so loudly everyone turned to look.

"Oh, shut up," Ashley said in an exasperated tone as the thick wooden door swung open, smacking Jeremy in the leg. He screamed, pressing his pained face against the window to the delight of the curious pub patrons.

"Why can't you be a man for once in your pathetic life?" Ashley demanded. She raised her purse again but a strange arm grabbed hers.

"What seems to be the problem here?" A thick Irish brogue cut through Jeremy's heated reply. Samantha turned her head and forgot to breathe. It was him.

He hadn't changed at all. His thick auburn hair draped across his forehead, stubble traveled down his sculpted cheeks and his lips were curled in his signature grin. He was more buff than he had been in high school, his thin arms now toned and muscular. Biting her lip, she turned to face him. His bright blue eyes flickered over to her, then widened.

"Samantha?" he said. The name in her stomach grew tighter, then relaxed as a beaming grin bloomed across his face. "Is it you?"

She nodded. "Hello Rouge," she said, raising her hand in a wave. The next thing she knew, her face was buried into his shoulder.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a fun post and we have a week full of whimsical fun, including a classic Pond recipe, the Babies' birthday party and the story of why I got married at 21 (for real, Francesca!) Stay tuned!

A Mysterious Date between the Rubber Chicken and Fuzzy Duck

To see the previous dates and learn about the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken's story, go here and here.


It was nothing like he had planned.




After their last romantic date, the Rubber Chicken knew what he wanted to ask. The long separation at Christmas had made him even more anxious. The days had felt like weeks and the weeks had felt like years. The phone calls and letters weren't enough. He had to see the Fuzzy Duck, stroke her yellow feathers and kiss that orange beak. And most importantly, he had to ask the question that was burning a hole in his soul.

The duck of his dreams

He had made the reservations at the Nugget, the new hot restaurant, a week in advance. He had called the florist and told her to put together the prettiest bouquet. He'd gotten a feather cut, shined his shoes and ironed his shirt.

For thirty minutes he waited at the restaurant. The Fuzzy Duck never showed.

In his state of devastation, it was as though he could see her fuzzy feathers at the table.

With his head lowered, the Rubber Chicken tipped the waiter and left the restaurant. Something was wrong. He knew it. The Fuzzy Duck would have never stood him up.





He made a beeline for her friend the mermaid, who often hung out at the Fuzzy Duck's cottage.





As soon as she opened the door, he knew it was bad news.

"I thought you might come here," she said. Hiding her face behind her green tail, she handed him a letter. "Read this."



Gulping, the Rubber Chicken took the letter. His eyes skimmed over the hastily written words and he felt his chest tighten.

"Darling," the Fuzzy Duck's desperate hand had scrawled. "Something terrible has happened. My mother has been captured by the dreadful Skull Face of the Halloween decorations. He's threatening to hold her until next October. I tried to call, but I couldn't reach you. I had to go save her. Please understand. I'm yours. Hold my seat for me. Love, the Fuzzy Duck."

Lowering the page, the Rubber Chicken stared at the floor. The Mermaid sniffled and stroked her pet seahorse.

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"There's only one thing I can do," the Rubber Chicken said calmly. "I'm going after her."

"What?!?" The mermaid gaped at him. "That's crazy. If she's in the attic, there could be all sorts of spiders and roaches and Easter decorations..."

"I don't care," the Rubber Chicken said, puffing out his chest. "I'd die for the duck I love."




And with that dramatic statement, he ran out into the night. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing. He was only a simple chicken after all. A simple chicken in love.




But he knew he had to find her....no matter where that might be.

To be continued...

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a new Gift this weekend and all sorts of whimsical fun to keep you smiling until Monday rolls around! And soon, maybe even as soon as Sunday, the new web design will be revealed!

New Recipe Series: Classy Chicken Speghetti

Here at the Pond, we're not the most of sophisticated of folks. Several of my Invisible Friends create glorious meals with things like butternut squash and kale and all sorts of fancy things. They know what crudites are and shallots and how to make shrimp cocktails.



Meanwhile, the Ducks of the Pond eat sophisticated dishes for dinner such as nachos...


French Toast....



Waffles...



Loads of beef-heavy meals like chili and meat pies...



And of course, the family favorite peanut butter....




We're a nutritionist's dream.




And any day now, the Queen will invite us to dinner.


So it's no surprise that in my quest to try new recipes, I found a classic recipe that I managed to make Pond-friendly.




Translation: I dumped a bunch of cheese and "gravy" on it.

You all know where I get my love of gravy from.



I've never had chicken spaghetti before, but this was delicious. It was cheesy, had tons of flavor and made me seriously consider eating it for breakfast. This is pure comfort, ya'll.


And the best part is it's only 513 calories a serving. (Depending how much cheese you add. )



I got this from my new favorite cookbook that my mother-in-law gave me for Christmas, Serving Louisiana.



If you enjoy candlelight meals with several courses, you might want to skip this.

But if you enjoy spaghetti with a bit of a kick and some cheese and don't mind slurping your noodles, this is for you.



Chicken Spaghetti from Serving Louisiana



1 (3 lb.) chicken
10 ounces of spaghetti
1 cup chopped onion
1 cup chopped bell pepper
1 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup 1 stick margarine
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 can tomato soup
1 tblspn chili powder

My addition: Black olives

Boil chicken in stock pot until tender. Drain and reserve two cups of broth. Cut chicken into bite sized pieces, getting rid of skin and bone. Cook spaghetti according to package directions and drain.

Saute the onion, bell pepper and celery in margarine in skillet until tender. Stir in reserved broth, chicken, soups and chili powder. Simmer for thirty minutes, stirring occasionally. Add pasta and mix well.

Spoon chicken mixture into 9 x 13 baking dish. Bake at 350 for 25 minutes. Sprinkle (or dump, if you're me) cheese on top if desired.



Serves 8 (I cut it in half.)

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new date with the Rubber Chicken and Fuzzy Duck! And this weekend, we've got all sorts of whimsical fun and tales to keep you mesmerized until Monday morning!

Letter full of secrets

You're fabulous.

Yes, you. I can see your eyeball twitching, your head turning as you check behind you. It's ok. It's you. You're fabulous.

And I have full authority to say that, you see, because the fabulous Jen thinks I'm fabulous. Have you met Jen? She's more than fabulous. She's creative, sweet, supportive and can make skyscrapers from rocks. She's just that good.

I can barely get my socks to match.

I know I'm supposed to pick five lucky bloggers, but in my current state of sleep-reduced delirium, I'm feeling the love for everyone.

Speaking of blogging delirium, I have a confession, my darling Invisible Friends.

I know I haven't been able to visit you all that much in the past few days, and I do apologize. I've actually been having to work at work (God forbid) and I'm in the middle of a stunning blog redesign for the Pond.

It's good. It's really good.

So I'll catch up today and tomorrow. Also, please don't be offended if I don't follow you. I put people I like on my blog list, and I have a whole word document of people to add. I plan to add you in the next day or two, so please know I like you! Just give me a few days to get caught up.

Oh, and I read a blog post about people commenting back to comments on a post. I don't comment back here because I go to your blogs to comment. I feel blogs are like a college dorm room white board. I leave comments on your board, you leave replies on mine. If I put all my comments on my board, then you don't have any on yours. And really, don't we all want a full white board on our door in life?

Right.

Anyway, here's a new Twirl! New Invisible Friends, Twirl is the story of a star-crossed ballerina named Vivi and her handsome cowboy named Wade, who have stumbled into a international ballet scandal and a old Texas legend that might possibly lead to riches!

For the previous edition, go here. To catch up in the archives, go here and here.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vivi and Wade couldn't drop their forks fast enough. Wade threw a few bills on the table and lead Vivi out the front door of the dancehall.

"Sheriff, we'll follow you out there!" he hollered, tipping his hat at two blue-haired old ladies toddling into the dancehall. One had a half-empty bottle of whiskey tipping out of her bright red plastic purse.

"SHH!" the sheriff hissed, glancing around. He shot a terrified look at the old ladies' backs. "Are you stupid, kid? You don't want to go bellowing around about this. Folks around here are old enough to remember."

Wade grinned as he helped Vivi into the pick up. "No offense sheriff, but I doubt they're about to grab a shovel and go digging all over the Hill Country."

The sheriff shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Boy, you don't know nothing. People have ways of getting things without doing it themselves."

Climbing into the battered county car, he fired up the rusty old engine and peeled out of the parking lot. Wade was chuckling when he swung into the front seat of the truck. His blue eyes met Vivi's and he beamed. Without a single word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. His rough warm hand cupped her shoulder, his thumb stroking the smooth skin slowly as they kissed. Vivi felt like she was falling as she leaned forward towards him. Her mind was spinning and her heart was pounding in her ears. Energy was racing through her veins and thoughts jumbled around in her head in broken fragments.

Wade leaned back and grinned. "Have I ever told you how crazy I am about you?"

Vivi shook her head. For someone who had just been kissed, her mouth was surprisingly dry. She couldn't even find the strength to babble.

Wade just smiled and flipped on the engine. He pulled off on the old dirt road, hanging just far back enough from the sheriff.

"What'd your parents say about you meeting my Grandpa?" he asked, flipping on a country music channel. "They all right?"

Vivi shrugged. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her parents. Her chest tightened as she remembered her mother's face and her father's demands. The happiness she felt over Wade's kissed faded away. The only thing she could could think about now was the same questions and worry she had always felt.

"They didn't mind you coming out all day, after being gone so long yesterday?" Wade probed. Vivi could feel his blue eyes boring into the side of her head, watching every expression flicker across her face. She looked out the window and bit the inside of her cheek.

"It's not a big deal," she answered finally. "Don't worry about anything." It was all she could do not to scream. Didn't he understand how messy her family was? If she didn't understand them, how could he?

Although she was afraid to admit it, she was terrified once he knew them, he would leave.

Wade's eyebrows crinkled together. "Vivi, did you tell them where you were coming?"

Vivi bit her cheek so hard it bled. "No," she muttered, curling towards the window.

"Why?" Wade asked. He tapped his hands against the steering wheel. "Is it me? I don't mind meeting them. I'm sure your dad would like me if he got to know me."

Vivi shook her head so hard she knocked her chin into the window. "Wade, it's not you," she promised. "My dad has been really obsessive lately. He wanted me to train all day for some dance with my teacher...he even wants me to blow off school! He's just pushing me really hard. And it's the same old arguments, the same old drama." Her voice was clipped.

Wade was silent for a few minutes, his jaw moving up and down as his eyes stared out on the road. "You just left, didn't you?"

"I stayed with Susanna last night." Vivi tried to sound positive. "It was like a girl's night or whatever."

"Listen Vivi," Wade said, taking a deep breath. "I know you've got a weird relationship with your folks, but I don't want to add to the trouble of it. Promise me you'll quit hiding from them or lying about going out. I don't want to lose seeing you."

"I'll be more open with them," Vivi said carefully. She knew she couldn't promise she'd quit lying or hiding. It was the only way to survive in her family.

"Good." Wade beamed as they pulled onto a old farm road. The truck rattled down a old gravel driveway, stopping in front of a worn house that appeared to have once been painted green. A old woman with long silver hair and deep ridges in her face scowled at them for the porch.

"Well, darling," Wade said, taking a deep breath. "Get ready for one of the weirdest afternoons of your life. I don't know much about this old historian, but I know she's different."

Vivi looked at the woman's hard black eyes and gulped. She sat frozen in the woman's gaze as Wade walked around the car, pulling the door open for her.

"Wade, is she a witch or something?" Vivi murmured under her breath. "I feel like she might cast a spell on me."

"Only if you're lucky." Vivi jumped, her head snapping up. The woman was standing a few feet from them. Her long silver hair was pulled back into a long messy braid and she wore a long black dress over scuffed black boots. A chunk of turquoise hung from a braided silver chain around her neck, and every finger was adorned with a ring.

She was the most terrifying person Vivi had ever met. Still scowling, the woman turned toward the sheriff and reached for the letter. He handed it to her, looking as uncomfortable as Vivi and Wade.

"Shall we go inside?" she growled, turning toward the old house. "The dead don't wait for just anyone, you know. We only have a short amount of time to reveal their secrets." Cackling, she threw her head back and revealed a row of rotten teeth. Vivi tried not to wince. Grabbing Wade's hand, she followed the woman toward the house.

The only thing she could think was there better be something really good in that letter.

To be continued....

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new recipe and Friday a date with the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken! We've also got a whole weekend of whimsical fun! Stay tuned!

Bear's Peanut Butter Barooo

Hello, my name is Bear.




And I have some terrible news.


My birthday is next week.....



Well, our birthday.




We might not get a peanut butter puppy cake. Wuffle. And it's all their fault.





Wuffle. Wuffle.






All I wanted in life was a peanut butter puppy cake for my first birthday.




Bitty wanted world domination. All I wanted was a simple cake full of peanut butter puppy safe goodness. Is that too much to ask for?





Wuffle.

I'll give up kibble for a peanut butter puppy cake.

Barrooooo.




Wuffle.





You see, I have a thing for peanut butter.






All it takes it the crack of a lid. My heart races, my paws tingle and my taste buds dance with joy. When I see that knife slathered in rich, tasty peanut butter, I literally jump for joy.

I'll give up Ben's famous bellyrubs for a peanut butter puppy cake.

I love peanut butter. I adore peanut butter. I can't live without it.

I'll try the ostrich technique of solving problems...

And how can I have a good birthday party without a peanut butter puppy cake?





Wuffle.




So you see, Invisible Friends, I need some help here. If you need me, I'll be hoping for a peanut butter puppy cake by Jan. 29 in time for my birthday. Big enough for Bitty and I to share with my friend the dolphin and the moose.




I'll be hoping for world domination.




Wuffle.



Love,

Bear

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! We have a new Twirl tomorrow and a offering from the New Recipe Series on Thursday. And on Friday, we'll find out how the Fuzzy Duck's date went with the Rubber Chicken. Stay tuned!

The Gift 6

Stop!

Did you read my confessions Friday?

Did you read the special edition of Twirl?

What about the second candy animals and another set of confessions?

Ok.

Proceed.



To read the previous edition of the Gift, go here.



"Rouge?" Jeremy poked his head in from the other room. "Who's Rouge?"

"Rouge?" Cleo stumbled in from her room, holding a hand over her mouth as she yawned. "Who's Rouge?"

"Rouge?" Samantha stared at Ashley in horror. "No. It can't be."

"Yes, Rouge," Ashley repeated, jabbing her finger at the computer screen. She pointed to the Celtic love pendant image on the screen, then at the diamond and blue topaz version in her hand.

"It's got to be Rouge," Ashley repeated, dangling the pendant in front of Samantha's nose. Samantha snatched it away from her with a glare.

"Rouge? Who's Rouge?" Jeremy demanded, stepping into the kitchen with a scowl. "How come I haven't met Rouge?"

"Do I know Rouge?" Cleo asked, blinking sleepily up at Samantha.

Ashley shook her head as Samantha stared at the pendant. "Rouge was Samantha's best friend in high school and the first year or two of college," she explained to Cleo, ignoring Jeremy. "He came from Ireland with his parents in the ninth grade. All the girls in school were crazy about him. But he only had eyes for Samantha."

"No, he didn't," Samantha scoffed. "We were just friends."

Jeremy's forehead furrowed closer as Ashley laughed. "They were inseparable. The three of us went everywhere together. Even when Samantha dated guys, Rouge had to approve. Of course he never did, so the relationships never lasted long. They were voted Most Likely to Get Married at prom."

"It wasn't like that," Samantha protested. "We were just best friends. You're blowing this out of proportion."

Jeremy huffed and leaned against the wall. "I had a ton of girlfriends in high school," he muttered. "I dated the head cheerleader for a year." No one paid attention to him.

"Why don't I know him?" Cleo asked, running her fingers through her dark hair. "Did you two have a falling out?'

Samantha shook her head. "Sophomore year of college, he called me really excited and said a relative had left him a ton of money. He said he was going to drop out of school and do what he had always wanted to do. I tried to talk him out of it, but he said it would be perfect and I would love it. It was a surprise. Then I never heard from him again. I called him several times, but his cell phone had been changed and his parents had moved. No one knew where he went."

"It was really weird," Ashley agreed. "Samantha even got her daddy's big time government buddies to pull some strings, see if he had been deported or hurt or anything. But no one knew what happened."

"This can't be Rouge," Samantha protested. "I haven't seen him in almost four years! Besides, how would he know we're here in my parents cabin? They didn't have it until two years ago. Plus, we're two hundred miles from my hometown."

"You know, this plot you girls have cooked up is really ridiculous," Jeremy burst out. "I'm sorry about the DVDs, ok?"

Once again, the girls ignored him.

"Why don't we look him up?" Cleo suggested, moving toward the computer. "He's probably on Facebook or MySpace."

"I wish I'd thought of that," Ashley murmured, rubbing her stomach. "I need food to think." She looked pointedly at Jeremy. "Weren't you supposed to get breakfast?"

Jeremy shrugged. "Where am I supposed to get breakfast?" he whined. "I don't know this town."

Ashley rolled her eyes. "Son, the workout DVDs are the least of your problems." Samantha snorted with laughter.

Cleo whooped and smacked the counter with her fist. "Bam!" she screeched, pointing at the screen. "I didn't even need his last name!"

The girls immediately flocked around the screen, ignoring Jeremy as he tried to peer over them.

"That's him!" Samantha cried, her voice giddy with excitement. "Oh my God! I'm so happy he's ok! He looks so good!"

"What do you mean, he looks good?" Jeremy asked suspiciously.

"Click on his profile," Ashley commanded. She elbowed Jeremy as he tried to lean over and he grunted.

Cleo clicked the mouse and squinted her eyes at the screen. "Oh my God!" she cried. "It says he owns a bar in your hometown. It's got it's own Web site." She clicked the mouse again and squealed. "Oh cute! It's a Irish-themed bar!"

Samantha smacked her head. "A bar!" she and Ashley said in unison.

"He was always wanting to re-create his grandfather's pub," Samantha explained, catching the confused look on Cleo's face. "He said in Ireland his family had always owned a pub until they ran into tough times. His grandfather sold the pub to give his parents the money to go to Ireland and give Rouge and his brothers and sisters a better education and opportunities. Rouge felt like it was his duty to carry on the tradition."

"We should go," Ashley said, her eyes gleaming. "We could leave after lunch, shop for a bit and be there right after dinner."

"They're having a band play tonight," Cleo added, a wicked grin on her face. "For ladies' night."

"I'm not going to a bar 200 miles away," Jeremy protested.

"Who invited you?" Ashley snapped. She leaned toward the screen and gasped. "Oh my God!" she whispered. "Samantha, look!" She pointed at the screen. "The club is called Until Sunset."

To be continued...

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a heart-warming plea from our favorite Wuffler and Wednesday we've got a new Twirl. We've also got a new recipe and a date with the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken!

Candy Animals 2 and Awards for All

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

And then turn it into an award to share with fabulous Invisible Friends!



My dear friend Marie gave me this fabulous award last week, and I can't help passing it on. Marie is a fabulous artist and cook. If I ever get enough saved up to go to England, I'm going to go visit her. She'll have to extract me from her cottage with the jaws of death, because I'll probably eat myself stupid on her good food and forget all about running and kickboxing.

The rules state:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 blogs which show GREAT ATTITUDE &/or GRATITUDE!
3. Be sure to link your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog.
5. Share the love & link to this post & to the person from who you received your award.

And the winners are:

1) Blue Violet

2) Jiggety Jigg

3) Kristina

4) Francesca

5) Molly

6) Kristen

7) Pam

8) Cakelaw

9) Lorraine

10) Katherine





In addition, Bee and Rose, Shalee and Debra all saw fit to give me the Honest Scrap award. It was so kind of you girls to think of me! If ya'll haven't had the pleasure of meeting these fine ladies, click on their blogs right away and check them out. They're fabulous.

The rules state:

1) List ten honest things about yourself, and make it interesting!

2) Pass the award on to seven bloggers you feel embody the spirit of the honest scrap.

Honestly, I can't imagine what else you would want to know about me after my confessions Friday.

But for my Invisible Friends, I'll do anything. I'll give you seven new tidbits about me, one for each award winner.

1) I really don't like weddings. I saw so many girls get married for the wrong reasons in college that the idea of going to a big white wedding makes me want to pluck my eyes out. But I always wind up there anyway.



2) I dance in public places. Wal-Mart, a parking lot, fancy restaurant...you can't take me anywhere.



3) I talk to everyone. And everything.

4) Amusement parks and loud, crowded places make me really nervous. Usually I have to leave because I have trouble breathing.

5) One day, Ben and I want to start a rescue center for stray dogs.




6) I'm very curious.



7) And just for you, another wedding picture.

And the winners are:

1) Theresa

2) Maki

3) The Rambler

4) Lucy

5) Natalia

6) Dee

7) Esi

In addition, the darling Bee and Rose also tagged me with a photo tag.

The rules are:

1. Go to the 4th folder in your photo files on your computer.

2. Find the 4th photo in that folder.

3. Explain the photo.

4. Tag 4 people to do the same.




This was taken when I was in college. My friend Val (center) from high school was getting married and I was her maid of honor. This was a test shot so she could choose the dress I was to wear. Ben and I had been living in the Pond for about a month, so I missed the official fitting.

I ended up wearing the one I'm wearing.

I tag:

1) Marie

2) Linda

3) Abby

4) Illegally Blond

And now, for Candy Animals...For the previous edition, go here.

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"What is it?" Bubbles cried. He and Sasperilla leaped on to the end of Callie's spoon and hurried over to join George Hambleton Leafton the Third at the bottom of the hutch. Squatting down, Callie held the spoon over the drawer so they could peer into it.

"I don't see a thing," Sasperilla complained, peering into the drawer. "All I see is dust."

"And dead bugs," Bubbles pointed out, bubbles streaming out of his nose in disapproval.

George Hambleton Leafton the Third stretched his long caramel neck out and shook his head in disapproval. He tugged the drawer open wider, revealing delicate porcelain cups. Peeking around the corner of the cups was a bird. The other animals stepped back in shock.

"What is it?" Bubbles cried, bubbles filling the air.

"It's a bird!" Callie cried.

"It's moving!" Sasperilla shouted. "It's alive."

"It's an enchanted napkin ring," George Hambleton Leafton the Third snapped. He leaned his head down towards the bird. Peering closer, Callie saw the cranky caramel giraffe was correct. A long silver bird with blackened feathers etched into his back blinked up at her. It's wings tapered down into a steep curl that nearly connected with it's long feet. With it's wings plastered to its sides, it could merely blink and cock its head up at them.

"Why, it can't fly!" Sasperilla cried. "How terrible! We must help him!"

"How?" Bubbles asked, hiccuping as a bubble caught in his throat.

"Are you the only one?" George Hambleton Leafton the Third asked the bird gently. The bird nodded, tucking it's beak under it's wing in shame. It motioned to the other dishes, all which were chipped slightly, the edges yellowed with years of washing and poor care.

"Poor little thing was separated from it's set," George Hambleton Leafton the Third muttered, his face creased in concern.

"How can we make him fly?" Bubbles asked.

George Hambleton Leafton the Third shrugged. "The only way to make him fly is to make him happy enough to fly. And after living in a drawer in the dark for so long, I'm not quite sure what would make him happy." The animals all hung their heads. The bird shuffled in the drawer, ashamed at being an object of pity.

"A tea party," Callie exclaimed suddenly, her head snapping up. "We shall have a tea party! He can be the guest of honor! Would you like that?" she asked the bird. The bird's silver head bobbed up and down, and his beak popped open in delight.

"Then a tea party it is!" George Hambleton Leafton the Third declared.

The animals sprung into action. Sasperilla made her famous seaweed tea while Callie whipped up some tasty cakes and mini pies. Bubbles entertained the bird by making bubblegum animals while George Hambleton Leafton the Third set the table and wiped off the dishes. They spent the morning dining on chocolate and caramel cakes with rich butter cream frosting, and apple pies with crumbly toppings. The table was full of laughter and vivacious chatter, with plenty of teasing and kind jokes.

The smile on the bird's face grew greater and greater. A shot rang out through the air. Without warning, he shot into the sky, his wings creaking as they flapped back and forth in the air.

"He's flying!" Bubbles cried as pink bubbles surrounded the bird.

"Hooray!" Sasperilla cried.

Even George Hambleton Leafton the Third seemed pleased. He leaned over to Callie and nodded his caramel head. "Thank you for making our new flying friend better, Callie," he replied. "It was a fabulous tea party. It's a shame you start school soon."

The bird in the air trembled, and all the animals lost their smiles. Callie beamed. "Don't worry," she replied. "There's plenty of time on the weekends for tea parties."

And that was a perfect reason for more cake.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends! Tomorrow we have a new edition of the Gift, followed by a week of whimsical fun! We have a new recipe, a statement from Bear, a date with the Fuzzy Duck and Rubber Chicken and of course, a new Twirl! Stay tuned!

Special Edition: Twirl

Thank you for coming back after my long list of confessions yesterday. I'm surprised you're not saturated with pink glittery duckiness after all that.



Like this.

And before I forget, did everyone see the new date of the Fuzzy Duck and her lovely Rubber Chicken?



A little birdie told me they're going on another date this week...

Get it? A little birdie? Moving on...

Tomorrow it's award season here at the Pond! You might win something!

But since you're here now, why not check out the special edition of Twirl? Since my mother threatened my life if I didn't tell everyone what was in the envelope (I got a BIG lecture Wednesday night), I'm going to tell you.

Right now.

For the previous edition of Twirl, go here. For archives, go here and here.


And if you're desperate to know what Twirl's about or want your own rough (very rough) copy of the developing story so far, e-mail me.
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"The Dance Hall Dreamers?" Wade asked, scratching his chin. He smiled up at Hilda as she plopped down a heavy plate full of brisket, coleslaw, potato salad and beans in front of him.

"Is that a band?" Vivi asked. She thanked Hilda as the pigtailed 50-year old woman sat down the biggest sandwich she'd ever seen. She gulped as Hilda handed her a piece of pie the size of her head.

The sheriff refused to say a word until after Hilda had left. Leaning closer to the table, his eyes glittered with excitement.

"The Dance Hall Dreamers is an old legend," he whispered, his eyes daring back and forth as waitresses and diners swirled around them. "It's been almost forgotten over the years, except by old folks and historians."

He took a bite of brisket and chewed slowly. Vivi stared as he gummed the glob of meat.

"And?" she cried, shaking her hands with frustration. "What's the legend?"

The sheriff swallowed and gulped down some tea. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he leaned back over their plates. It took all Vivi's willpower not to grab him by the collar and shake him.

"Back in the early 1900s, a few of the outlaws from the Old West were still hanging around," the sheriff drawled. "Of course, things were changing. Thieves couldn't just take over a town on horseback, and that's where Bullet Bill came into play."

"Bullet Bill!" Wade exclaimed, slapping the table. "I remember this story now! My grandpa told it to me."

"Keep your voice down," the sheriff hissed. "You don't want folks knowing we're talking about this!"

"Why?" Vivi asked.

The sheriff rolled his eyes and stabbed his brisket with a fork. "I'm trying to tell you!" he snarled.

"You're telling me about as fast as a turtle swimming in a river of molasses!" Vivi snapped. "Just tell us what it is!"

Smearing barbecue sauce across his reddened cheek, the sheriff shifted in his chair and resumed his tale. "Well, back then a huge wave of Czech and German immigrants flocked to Texas, particularly here in the Hill Country. Towns were booming, stores were opening and the pioneer days weren't over yet. Bullet Bill realized the smartest thing to do would be to pose as a German settler traveling with his brothers, rather than another gang of outlaws. He went from town to town. Families would welcome him in and he would earn their trust over a few weeks, gaining access to their businesses and homes. In the middle of the night, he'd strip them of all their cash and valuables and be gone by morning, leaving as many as fifty families devastated and destitute."

"Why did they call him Bullet Bill?" Vivi asked. "And what does this have to do with the Dance Hall dreamers?"

"I'm getting there," the sheriff snapped. "Damn Wade, is she always like this?"

"We're both eager to hear the rest of the tale, sheriff," Wade murmured, sopping up some barbecue sauce with a slice of white bread. "If you'd continue."

The sheriff took a bite of coleslaw and continued. "Well, one day Bullet Bill and his gang came up on a real itty bitty town. Even for Texas at the time, it was small, but full of German families. Only this time, the mayor had a gorgeous 17-year-old daughter named Adelaide. Everyone called her Addy. She had long blond wavy hair, big blue eyes and"-- The sheriff cleared his throat and his cheeks colored. He looked at Vivi and mummured, "--a good figure."

Vivi rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," the sheriff drawled, "Bullet Bill never knew what hit him. For the first time in his life, he wanted to go clean. He took one look at Addy and knew that he wanted to marry her. He waited until the night of the spring dance at the local dance hall to approach her. The legend says they danced all night until the early hours of the morning, just smiling and laughing. That same morning, he asked her father if he could marry her."

"What did he say?" Vivi asked, her eyes wide.

"He said no," the sheriff replied. His spoon scraped against his bowl of beans. "Still, Bullet Bill didn't give up. He took Addy dancing every weekend. During the week, he worked at a general store and made plans to build a house. His gang was convinced it was a massive scheme, and were furious when Bullet Bill told them it was over. He split the stolen goods evenly and basically told them to get out of dodge. He wanted a clean life with Addy. You can imagine how his gang felt."

"Well, after a few months, the mayor warmed up to Bullet Bill and gave his consent. A summer wedding was planned, and the whole town helped build their house. The barn was set to hold the greatest dance anyone had ever seen. It was all anyone could talk about."

"The night before the wedding, Bullet Bill's old gang went to the mayor and told them about Bullet Bill's past. They convinced him that Bullet Bill was going to marry Addy, strip her family and the town of its wealth and abandon her. The mayor was furious and ordered Bullet Bill arrested that night. When Addy heard of the plans, she hopped on horseback and rode to tell Bill about what was happening."

"Bullet Bill wanted to do the right thing and talk to the sheriff, but Addy refused. She knew of her father's powerful connections. So Bill ran into the night, taking all his wealth with him."

The sheriff paused to drink his tea.

"That's it?" Vivi exclaimed. "That's horrible! What a terrible story!"

"I'm not done yet," the sheriff snapped, setting his tea glass down with a clang. "Dang girl, hold your horses. I had to water my voice." Clearing his throat, he resumed the story. "Well, a few months passed and most people forgot about Bullet Bill. His gang moved on to other towns and everything returned to normal, except for Addy. Her heart was broken. Several men wanted to court her, but she wanted nothing to do with them. They say she spent all her nights in the dance hall, staring at the door waiting for Bullet Bill to return.

"One night, she went to the building that would have been their house. Tacked inside to a wall was a letter. You can imagine how surprised she was to see it was from Bullet Bill. In the letter, he told her he had made friends with a postman who would drop off letters for them at secret hiding spots. If she still loved him and wanted to marry him, they would find a way to be together. He told her the next letter was hidden in the old dance hall, and it would tell her how to find the money he'd left her so she could travel to him."

"Is that what's in the envelope?" Vivi exclaimed.

The sheriff slid the envelope out of his pocket. "It's a letter," he said, tapping the yellowed envelope. "But I don't know what it says."

"Why not?" Vivi burst out.

"It's in German," Wade guessed. "They probably wrote in German to keep other people from reading, right?"

The sheriff nodded. "And it's old style German, which makes it harder to translate. I'm going to see an old historian that thinks she can translate it for me. You're more than welcome to come."

Vivi nodded and Wade grinned. "So what's the big deal about a letter? Why are you so skittish?"

The sheriff gave him a stern look. "This just isn't any letter, son. This is the key to a string of letters. And those letters lead to a massive fortune."

"What fortune?" Vivi asked.

"Well you see, by the time Bullet Bill had stopped stealing, he was the equivalent of a millionaire several times over today," the sheriff said. "Somewhere, he had to store all that wealth."

He tapped the envelope. "And this will tell us where it is..."

To be continued....

Stay tuned tomorrow for a new Candy Animals and awards!