Too Many Choices

On a recent Saturday morning I found myself doing errands in my hometown when I heard my stomach growl. My first thought was how could I possibly be hungry after what I had eaten the night before? My second thought was I wonder if they are still serving breakfast at McDonalds? After another two stops; one at the post office and another at the drugstore to pick up a prescription I found myself waiting in the drive-thru lane at my favorite fast food joint. My anticipation was building as I slowly inched my way forward to the ordering speaker. Should I get an egg mcmuffin? Maybe, I should try the new oatmeal that Sister has been raving about? What about a sausage biscuit? Should I get a value meal? Do I really need hashbrowns? Should I get coffee? They can't seem to fix my coffee the way I like it. Actually, I don't know how many shots of cream or sugar to tell them; that's probably the reason. I continued to to inch forward in the car when I heard the lady in front of me order the sausage mcgriddles. Oh My! Now, that's something I would like to try I thought to myself, but what if I don't like it. I better stick to something safe. Order taker: "Hi, welcome to McDonalds! May I take your order?" MAFW: "Hi, Uhh, I think I'll have the sausage biscuit with egg." Order taker: "Okay, would you like to get an extra value meal?" MAFW: "Uh, sure." Order taker: "Okay, would you like small, medium or large?" MAFW: "Uh, I'll take medium. How many hash browns do you get with medium?" Order taker: "You get one hash brown." MAFW: "Okay, I'll take medium." Order taker: "What would you like to drink?" MAFW: "I'll have a Diet Coke." Order taker: "Small, medium or large." MAFW: "Drinks are all the same price, aren't they?" Order taker: "Yes, they are." MAFW: "Okay, I'll have the large diet." I was waiting for the guy to state my total and to please pull forward when I was asked something else. "Would you like the folded or round egg?" MAFW: "Excuse me?" Order taker: "Would you like the folded or round egg?" MAFW: "Uh, what?" Order taker: "Ma'am, would you like a folded or round egg with your sausage biscuit with egg extra value meal?" Are you kidding me? I have a hard enough time trying to figure out where I want to eat and what I want to eat. Now I have to decide what shape of egg I want, give me a break! "I'm not sure," I asked. "Do they taste the same?" Order taker: "Excuse me?" MAFW: "Yeah,I was wondering if the folded or round egg tasted the same?" (Don't laugh, they could be serving sunny-side up or over medium.) Order taker: "I think so, they come out of the same place, you know?" Touche!

Free ebook of Reflections on a Middle-Aged Fat Woman

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More Tater Salad

****In honor of my decision to make potato salad today I pulled this classic post from 2009. Enjoy!**** It took me a few years to learn to appreciate this delicacy served at picnics, potlucks, and funerals. Church socials, family reunions and basically any other gathering that served food always seemed to have several different kinds of potato salad. Potato salad or tater salad as we call it in my family is a gathering requirement. Someone usually asks who's bringing the tater salad and the resulting answer is met with extreme caution. You see in the middle-aged fat woman's family there are four(4) different recipes for tater salad. And none of us really like the others' recipes. Mom's recipe is a classic tater salad laced with eggs, onions, (I'm allergic) pickles, (I don't like) relish, (Yuck) and celery seed. Brother's recipe is stocked with onions, (I'm allergic) paprika, and every dressing and sauce in the fridge which total (at last count) 43. Sister's recipe is spiked with onions, Ohio style chili, and caffeine-free Diet Pepsi. (No comment for that one.) Middle-aged fat woman's recipe is a meat-and-potatoes kind of dish. It only has a few ingredients, none of which are listed above, except eggs. I subscribe to several upscale magazines and had seen a new recipe for Summer Potato Salad. Well, I thought la-dee-da, I'll just have to give this new tater salad a shot. The new recipe called for fancy bleu cheese crumbles, 3 tablespoons of coarse salt, red wine vinegar and freshly chopped chives. What a disaster. Of course, all of the stores were closed for the holiday, so, I had to stop at a convenience store to pick up those unusual ingredients, none of which they had. I got to Mom's house and began to assemble the Summer Potato Salad. (She had already cooked the potatoes) We poured 3 tablespoons of Morton salt into the bowl. We added wild onion stems pulled directly from the front yard. Lastly, we poured blue cheese salad dressing into some cottage cheese to get the crumble effect. We had all of the other ingredients so we added them in as well. Mom looked at me and I looked at her, "You ready to taste it?" In went the spoons, out came a gag and a bleccckkk, she spit hers out and my eyes teared up. It was awful. Just awful. Brother came in and gave it a taste, "That tastes like @%X*^!#," he said, then threw down his spoon in disgust and stomped out of the kitchen. Sister wasn't in town for this holiday, but her daughter was. I looked over at her with spoon in hand and she said, "I'm allergic to tater salad." (Smart kid!)

You Were Hot Stuff

When I used to hang out in the night clubs, you could be certain that when this song was played I was on the dance floor shaking my own hot stuff. Donna Summer, thank you for your voice and music; you will be missed!

Wordless Wednesday...No Sunburns For Me

More Creamed Onions

****Enjoy this classic Mother's Day post**** So Brother and I took Mom out to eat for Mother's Day. It wasn't just some local place either; it was the Dillard House in Clayton, Georgia. It's about as far north as you can get in Georgia without falling off the edge of the state. It was a two hour drive and by the time we got there we were famished, and ready to eat. I'm not sure if it was fair to make Mom drive or not but the Mustang ain't really made for transporting folks; maybe two, but definitely not three. We got there at the same time that all of the local churches let out and it was certainly a race to get your name on the waiting list. Mom pulled a stunt that I am known for but I've never seen her do it. It's where you stop the car at the front of the restaurant and have somebody hop out to get your name on the waiting list. Anyhow, I was the lucky soul that hopped rolled out of the backseat of Mom's car. (Her backseat wasn't much bigger than mine.) We enjoyed a half hour wait sitting out on the front porch, stomachs growling, rocking in comfortable high back rocking chairs, straining to hear what numbers they were calling over the loudspeaker. With each number called I was met with questioning glances from Mom and Brother both wondering what our number was and if it had just been called. We were finally led to our table and had to go through the main dining room, out the back door, cross the yard and enter into a whole other building. We were all surprised by this unexpected detour and joked that you usually have to wash dishes after the meal, not before. We were now in an old converted farmhouse and were elbow to elbow with our fellow diners. I was sticking out like a sore thumb. Mom and Brother were seated against the wall and I was seated on the outside of the table which was the main only walkway from the kitchen to the dining area. There was also a loose board or something near my chair because every time someone walked past I got a jolt, a goose and a lift up from my chair. There were three bowls already on the table containing apple butter, relish, and a third bowl that we all sniffed and couldn't identify until Brother tasted it. It was horseradish sauce. I think we were waiting for menus or something and were totally blown away when three waiters arrived with three heavy laden trays of every country food dish imaginable. You don't have to order at this place, they bring you everything , and I mean everything on the menu. The three of us quickly loosened our pants and dug in. I was immediately drawn to the lima beans and Au gratin potatoes. Brother was enjoying the Prime Rib, biscuits and cucumber and onion mixture. Mom, well, she was enjoying the creamed onions. Creamed onions! Sometimes, I wonder how we can be possibly be related. I think it's well known that the MA Fat Woman doesn't do onions, creamed or not. All in all, we had a fun trip and were all in agreement that Dad and Sister would have enjoyed the meal too. I'm not sure about the creamed onions, though. That's something only a mother could love.

You Want Coke With That?

****Enjoy this classic from 2008**** I have been trying to save money just like a lot of people around the country. I clip coupons and I try not to eat out too often. I had to take the cat to the vet this morning which he wasn’t very pleased about and decided that I would go to McDonalds and get something for breakfast. Simple enough plan, right! After the visit to the vet we were on our way over to Mickey D’s. I got in line at the drive thru window and waited my turn. It is a new drive thru where they have two lanes open; I don’t really like them because someone is always trying to cut in front of me. Or, you get a person who is unsure whether it’s their turn or not and then you have a standoff and then you both go at the same time. Then you hit the brakes and look at each other and stop and go and stop and go and then somebody will wave the other through and so on and so forth. Sometimes, your nerves are shot before you even get to the window. The car ahead of me had asked for about ten extra items at the window such as ketchup, extra napkins, butter, jelly and stock options and after having successfully navigating the drive thru lane it was finally my turn at the window. I had ordered a bacon and egg biscuit combo with a Diet Coke to drink. I was hungry and thirsty. I reached out the window to receive my order and watched in absolute wonder as the lid (which wasn’t secured properly) on the top of my drink came off and the lady at the window dropped my drink and it fell precisely into my lap. I looked at her and she looked at me; we both turned and looked at the cat that was now standing up right in the passenger seat with every hair on his back all puffed up. Her eyes were wide and her lower lip began to tremble. I think I heard an “I’m sorry” somewhere. “It’s my first day,” she said, “and I’m very nervous.” I didn’t really say anything as she handed me another drink and I pulled away from the window. How could I be mad? The same exact thing had happened to me when I was in college and was beginning a new job as a waitress. I spilled a drink all over a man’s lap on my very first day too! But, here’s the kicker. I waited tables for over five years and I never did spill anything else; hopefully, the same will happen for her too.

Free eBook Of Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman

Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman will be offered as a free ebook download promotion to Kindle Select members on May 9. If you don't have a Kindle, there are actually free apps so you can read Kindle books on a Mac, PC and even a smartphone. The book is also now available in the Kindle Lending Library. Please feel free to share with your friends! Amazon.com: Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman eBook: Gianetta Palmer: Kindle Store

All In A Name

I have an unusual first name. I’m not going to tell you what it is because you can do a little research and find that out for yourself. My not so close cousins have always called me by a nickname that was taken from my middle name which is also unusual. That nickname was MyMy which I never really liked. My immediate family and closer cousins call me by my middle name and my friends just call me a letter of the alphabet. Confused, me too. I never know what name to answer to when being called. If someone calls, “Hey you,” I usually will look up. I’ve had other nicknames as well. For purposes of torment and torture my brother has called me many things over the years including but not limited to: Shorty Luther, The German Midget, Aggie Haggie and Froggy. My father always called me Gopher which is pretty much self-explanatory. Go for this and go for that. And he would sometimes call me by my real name which would stop everyone in their tracks upon hearing it. My mom will also throw out my real name periodically just to see if I'm paying attention. Everyone has always had a problem saying my name correctly. I don’t know why, it’s pronounced just like it is spelled. At my high school graduation, they pronounced my middle name wrong and my sister corrected the speaker in front of 400 people. At my college graduation, I had to repeat my name twice to the lady that was reading the names but she said it correctly. The next time you’re in a crowd of people and you shout for someone and somebody turns around that you weren’t expecting. It might just be me…just don’t call me Shorty Luther.