Really wish I had a waffle right about now. When my dad was gone on vacation my mom used to let us eat them with ice cream on top for dinner.
How do you like them? Stuffed? Cream cheese? Fresh fruit? Plain? Peanut butter?
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
I like them crispy on the outside, with butter and an egg, over medium, on top.
I may have a little bit of syrup for dipping. But just a little.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
Sometimes I make egg sandwiches out of them. An egg, some cheese, and a piece of ham or bacon between two waffles. Yum.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
I am not a fan of those super thick waffles. Or super sweet waffles.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
I usually dip them in syrup or honey. Once in awhile, I'll order them if we go out, and I'll get them with fresh fruit and whipped cream.
Power was out all day yesterday due to fallen trees outside our development. It came back on in the evening, PTL, as it was starting to get pretty warm in the house.
Meeting with our house swap partner for dinner tonight to sort out logistics. Seems she is also having knew surgery this summer sometime. And DH goes away for 2 weeks to work a camp/recruit so I hope we can work something out.
Raining again. SO sick of this weather.
It's Heritage Days this weekend. It's the town festival, so lots of fair food, rides, etc. Our town is the home of the Tilt-A-Whirl. It's the only ride that makes me puke and it was invented here.
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Out of all the lies I have told, "just kidding" is my favorite !
It is a much better morning, weather wise, today than the rest of the week. Humidity is a little lower, sun is shining, no thundershowers expected.
And I am spending most of the day indoors working on a paper for my Professional Development class on "Taking Care of Yourself". I do get a small reprieve when I head out to the chiropractor at lunchtime.
I know that some of you will say to enjoy it. I do get down time but right now, the priority is to finish with school so I can enjoy it more later.
My kid wouldn't stop screaming in the car on the way home yesterday so I sprinkled water on his head to snap him out of it. He looked so shocked. Then I let him cry it out in his crib at bed time. I'm toughening up as a mom : )
I haven't eaten waffles in a long time. I usually order an omlet when I go out for breakfast. I'll eat them for dinner with chicken but not the way southerners do it. It is more like chicken Ala King without the peas. Shredded chicken in a creamy gravy over the waffles. So good. It's been a while since I've had that too.
We have two waffle irons. Homemade waffles and pancakes are so stupidly easy to make.
I put a few drops of lemon juice in mine. Dad puts vanilla in his.
I like cooking the fruit into them.
Sun, sun and a little more sun. I think I heard some thunder in the distance.
It's getting so hot and humid during the day now, it doesn't really matter what the temperature is.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
Well GT, I have decided to officially come out today and I wanted you all to know first. I am trans-wealthy. I identify and consider myself very wealthy but my bank account does not reflect that. I have always identified with wealthy people and their culture and lifestyle, but the people at my bank keep discriminating against me. It isn't fair. I deserve to live my life authentically as a wealthy woman and no one should stand in my way, even the bank. I am considering suing them for denying me my civil right to live my life as the culture and lifestyle I identify with.
Smh. This whole Rachel Dolezal story has me just gobsmacked.
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Out of all the lies I have told, "just kidding" is my favorite !
I am trans wealthy too! And who is this Rachel chick.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
I am trans wealthy too! And who is this Rachel chick.
She is the woman who is white, who tells people she is black, who just resigned from the NAACP because her parents were interviewed and told reporters that she is white. She lies about her race because she "identifies with the black culture and has always thought of herself as black".
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Out of all the lies I have told, "just kidding" is my favorite !
I am trans wealthy too! And who is this Rachel chick.
She is the woman who is white, who tells people she is black, who just resigned from the NAACP because her parents were interviewed and told reporters that she is white. She lies about her race because she "identifies with the black culture and has always thought of herself as black".
Oh, that nut job. It's hard to keep up with all the nut jobs lately.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
Her newest claim I just read is that there is no biological proof that her parents are really her parents because no DNA testing has been done. I guess maybe she was switched at birth except um yeah she really has straight blonde hair. Do yourself a favor & be quiet & let this die quietly.
“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
But, but, but she self identifies as a black person. She can't help she was born with the wrong boby.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
I self identify as a 120 pound rich white woman with a maid.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
I self identify as a 120 pound rich white woman with a maid.
We might be twins! I identify as that as well!
I also self identify as having a gardener, a chef, and a chauffeur.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
DS just cut his finger open. I think he needs a stitch or two. I'm going to break out the butterfly bandages.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
It's hard to see but it's about a quarter of an inch long and really really deep. I made a big butterfly out of durable cloth tape.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
I feel sorry for my kids sometimes. Other kids have all these stories of being rushed to the ER. My kids are like, "My mom and dad did surgery in the back yard. They didn't want blood on the rug." I don't know how many cuts I have butterflied and how many things I have fixed on my own. Broken toes and fingers? Tape them together and go on. You're not going to the ER so I can pay THEM to tape them together. I am not paying someone to super glue a finger when I can make a butterfly. I am not paying someone to stitch you together if it's small enough to butterfly. And god forbid you do cut yourself bad enough to require a trip to get real stitches. Cause you are not going back to the doctor for me to pay to take them out. I get paid to take out stitches. I will take out yours. My kids rarely go to the doctor and they have hardly ever gone to the ER. That's how we roll. Don't ever get born into a family where you have medical people as parents. This will be your life!
And yep, I thought my butterfly was clever! It's holding. The edges are pulled together to seal and that's what matters. It was pretty deep. We'll keep it on till it surface heals and then it can finish healing on it's own.
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
Her newest claim I just read is that there is no biological proof that her parents are really her parents because no DNA testing has been done. I guess maybe she was switched at birth except um yeah she really has straight blonde hair. Do yourself a favor & be quiet & let this die quietly.
She claimed as evidence that her birth certificate is dated 1 1/2 months after she was born. Ummm of course it was. 40 years ago things weren't digital and the hospital didn't take care of the BC application for you. BTW anyone else ever notice the acronym for birth control and birth certificate are the same? Somewhat ironic.
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Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug.
What a nut job that woman is. Would she claim she didn't exist if she was born during the time women had children at home and NO birth certificates were issued?
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“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!” ― Maya Angelou
Caitlyn came across a quiz thing that would tell you if you were really dead or not.
Maybe that chic should take it.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.