Baby brother’s apple crisp recipe
4 or 5 cooking apples
1 Tbs. Cinnamon
1/4 Tbs. Nutmeg
1 cup and 2 Tbs. of flour
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup butter or margarine
1 shot of rum

COOKING DIRECTIONS:(DO NOT PREHEAT OVEN)
Core and slice apples.
Place apples in greased whatever you're going to cook it in.
In another bowl combine flour, brown sugar and spices.
Add butter or margarine to mixture.
Layer crumb mixture on top of apples.
Bake in oven at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes or until apples are soft.
Drink rum
Cool 20 minutes

Maps are often perplexing. They’re sort of like men that way, but easier to fold. It’s not that hard to figure out where you want to go – there are four basic directions, and the routes are labeled, numbered and color coded. But it’s very important you know where you’re at when you start your mapping. I’ve often been accused of being directionally-challenged. This is inaccurate. I am almost always aware of going in the wrong direction, and I can always tell I’m completely lost when the cell phone’s “no signal” and the car’s “tank empty” lights are blinking in tandem.

There are two kinds of people in the world –
- those who are religious and those who are going straight to hell.
- those who love and adore their significant others and those others who love being significantly adored.
- those who deliver a hard day’s work for a hard day’s pay and those who take all the credit for the hard work that got done while they were out playing golf.
- those who lie and those who vote for the most believable liar (or the guy with good hair).
- those who complain about everything and the rest of us – who drink instead.

Most people think they don’t have time to know themselves. Who they are, what they want, where they’re going, why they are who they are, how to change and how to live the best of every day because you never know when it’s going to be over. I’m a Libra. My favorite color is purple (which comes in handy since I bruise easily). I think chocolate has magical powers; ditto for books, music and most art. Riding equals freedom and so does organization. I’m a writer, a photographer and a wiseass and I believe in angels. But I’m not one.

Put the “O” back in L-O-V-E.

Overflow with emotion.

Oversleep sometimes.

Overwhelm the one you love.

Outlook – let it be positive.

Options are the spice of life.

Obey your instincts and wear your heart on your sleeve.

Be Obliging.

Obsess about what you can do to make yourself a better person.

Don’t stop there. Do it.

Occasions – Don’t forget them. Ever.

Occupy your mind with something new everyday.

Olive branches – grow one or buy one, and use it a lot.

Especially if you’re not perfect.

Options are the spice of life. Offer some.

Outdo yourself every day.

Original – Be One.

There are two kinds of people in the world – packrats and the rats who pack up your important goose poop collection and sneak it into the garbage can while you’re napping. I am the latter, but I can’t help it. I feel safe in my rebellious minimalism. My mother has at least 14 of everything I’ll ever need. If I ever throw my favorite doohickey away by mistake, she has 2,127 in assorted sizes and colors. The only problem with packrats is they’re always certain they have just what you’re looking for. They’re just never quite sure where it is....

Men buy shoes that are comfortable to walk in.
Women never walk into a shoe store without buying.
Men buy underwear that fits comfortably.
Women buy underwear that makes men uncomfortable.
Men buy cars that are fun to drive.
Women drive cars that make them seem fun.
Men buy toys.
Women toy with men.
Men buy tools.
Women think most men are tools.
Men buy food that tastes good.
Women buy food that's good for them.
Men hide when it's time to go shopping.
Women hide the shopping bags.
Men can drive by a sale.
Women wave buh-bye to them.

The days are getting shorter
My list is getting longer
While my hatred of the stores
Just goes on getting stronger
The prices they go higher
My paycheck lower still
I used to love the season
Now I'm just a pill
Please take my evil thoughts
In the spirit they are given
I hope you know I love you all
That way I'll be forgiven
No gifts for me
You're off the hook
Put away Ye old checkbook
I'm giving to the kids this year
Please don't take offense
Happy Holidays to you one and all
Let shopping hell commence

She always thought she would make an excellent old maid. She loved cats, enjoyed her own company and read incessantly, a solitary activity, if ever there was one. She never planned her wedding, never walked down the aisle of her bedroom with a pillowcase on her head, never pictured her future husband's face, never tried to catch the bouquet and certainly never put wedding cake under her pillow. She wanted a husband about as much as she wanted ants in her bed. But the wedding was huge, the bride was blissful, the groom was proud, and the baby was early.