Southern charm…Food and…


This was an unusual experience.  Since when do Southern restaurants have so much noise that you want to gulp down the food and leave as soon as possible.  I thought only the big golden arches did that.  This is a new era.  Always noisy and on the run.

I had the shrimp creole or something like that over grits and sweet corn bread.  It was outrageously delicious!  The name of the place is a chicken coop (that’s somewhat the real name, but because I don’t endorse or criticize restaurants because I am not a Food Critic, I don’t mention their real name).  My mouth is the best food critic you will ever meet, if you ask me.  I do not volunteer my opinion, except in this forum, because it is mine to say whatever I want to.

Well…going back to the experience…as soon as we got in the place, the noise was so high that I had my doubts as to stay or go.  We decided we will go through the experience.  You walk up to a buffet style counter, and you tell the servers what you would like to have and, you get your food, you pay, get your drinks, silverware, napkins and sit wherever you can find a place.  That’s the new style en vogue…the more difficult they make it for you…the more people love the place.  What gives.  No…I did not have sweet tea.  Didn’t see any Southern gentlemen either, except the one gentleman with us.  I was there to eat, not to get a partner.

My food was great…my system must be in shock going from grazing all the time to all these hundreds of small pieces of ham, tomatoes, lots of spices and a good number of shrimps, maybe farm-raised in Malaysia.  What the heck, I was out for the experience, not to have a psychology session with my stomach, trying to explain to this 60+ year-old stomach what was about to happen.  So ok.

YOLO…you only live once.  Yeah, but I want to live once and for a kind of long time.  Need to find out if there is any oxymoron syndrome involved in all of this.

Next time “Take Out” is the name of the game.  Maybe once a year.  Good idea.

Your Happy Contessa

“Nobody can be exactly like me.  Sometimes even I have trouble doing it.” Anonymous

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Complaint about Aging…#101


Not a good idea to take a closer look at yourself on a humid, hot, bad-hair-kind-of-a-day, when you are using an 8x magnifying mirror.

Where in the world all this stuff comes from and when the heck did all these things happened?

I am lost for words and for anything else.  Things hanging everywhere, lines and big dents all over the place, and let’s not go below the neck.  Do not want to convert this posting on a horror story.  I have this humongous mirror on my dinning area, and when I sit to eat, or graze, because that’s all I do, I just move my mouth all the time, and I can see my face all the time while I am eating.  Not a pleasant image.

I don’t know about any of you…but I don’t remember being told anytime when I was a younger, so ravishing looking chick, that this is what was waiting for me at this tender age of mid-sixties.  There I am…I don’t want to reveal my real age anymore.  Too much pain just adjusting to all these new changes.  I caught myself walking in slow motion the other day, and I almost fainted from my reaction to my own body.  The mind is out there, going and going, dancing and dancing, but the body is saying, hey, not so fast.  I hate this!

I am afraid to look to the left, to the right, high above and low below on the mirror anymore.  I get surprises of new areas that have changed in the last 30 seconds or so.  I don’t know how to deal with all these new parts on my body.  I am fearful of laughing too hard and too much, because all these lines come to visit on a second, without being invited.  I love sleeveless shirts, well…the look is not that hot anymore.

Listen up, young punks, enjoy all you can right now, because the transition from gorgeous to “what’s that” happens in a second.  No warning whatsoever.

Creams?  All of them for every area of the body.  Do they work?  Don’t think so, but I still use them anyway.  This is so very hard for a hard-core ex-diva like me.

Now that I let all the steam out, I need to go out and get some books on how to learn to crochet, knit, or paint.  That’s what quiet, nice little old-ladies do.  Right?  Ok, Raylene, you are the exception to the rule.  You’re still a baby, but prepare yourself, my friend, because you will be knitting at a speed you never knew you could.    :)

I am looking to buy a 100x magnifying mirror, so I can torture myself at a better rate.

Wow…life never ceases to amaze me with all these surprising surprises.  Grammar police?

Your Happy Contessa

“Life is better when you can laugh about your own self.”  Me



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What makes me happy…momentarily…Because then there will be the next thing…


There’s a lot of things I can think of…but of course, not all of them I can have, even momentarily.  Do not go off on a tangent, I know how your devious minds think.  Because I am just like all of you…I know where your mind went.

These amazing shoes look so very hot with my white and black skinny jeans.  Also with my long black skirt.

Some people drink alcohol, some smoke, some gossip, some get depressed, some go shopping, oops! and then some just buy pretty shoes.  That’s your humble servant here.

This pair of shoes made me smile, and I love things that make me smile.  When I tried them on…they felt just perfect and so comfy.  Only 3 1/2 inches high.  I can handle them very smoothly and walk in an elegant manner.  Oh yes, it’s all about looking good and feeling great!

Logical thinking behind this purchase.  I can wear these with any color, and carry them into the Florida winter.  Black heels.  I think of everything.  Every purchase I make carries a logical analysis behind it.  My money, not the government, so I have to justify to myself the reasoning behind almost every rational or irrational decision I make.  I have plenty time.  For the irrational decisions I make, well…those I rationalize saying to myself that life is too short to worry about tiny details.  No always I accept readily my thinking.  But…what the heck…YOLO.  You only live once.  Thanks Milagros for teaching me that phrase.  Milagros is my precious very smart daughter.

Hope you are as happy, momentarily at least, as I am.  Love my happy shoes.

Your Happy Contessa

“What there’s not to love about shoes that make you happy.”  Me



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I wanted it so bad…


I am having dreams of having a piece of cake, or maybe a whole cake.  It would be a many layers vanilla cake with enough frosting and coconut flakes to make me spin on my weight scale.  It would be, oh, so worthy!

At the supermarket today, I went by the bakery section, where I almost purchased a few pieces of different kinds of cakes.  I also went to the aisle where they have the already prepared mixes for cakes, I almost bought a few boxes, lemon cake, strawberry cake, vanilla cake…I guess you get the idea.

Am I pregnant?  By a holy or alien being,  you mean?  There’s not another way.  The few little hormones I have left are struggling with my issues of having a crush on someone.  They can only handle so much.  Other than that…remember, I have an incredibly humongous sense of humor.  You need to take my stuff with many grains of sea salt.  Otherwise…you will never get me.

Back to the cake issue…So I decided after a few minutes of contemplation and pondering while looking at all those delicious but not-good-for-you-trash, that I was having none of those.  An apple and some dried pineapple will suffice in my salad.  Hard life, yes, it is.

I must admit, I am getting a little tired of grazing for lunch, plantains for breakfast and quinoa and black beans for dinner.  I don’t think my taste buds even try to taste the same things over and over again.  I just chew and chew some more.  It is starting to taste like nothing much.  But I am too lazy to develop a new menu.  I will have to do that soon, otherwise one of these days, I am going to have a self-inflicted revolt and go get cake, pie, and ice cream (I am salivating as I am typing this).

For how much longer can I stand all of this turmoil in my life.  Crushes, cakes, pies, skinny pants, stilettos?  Life is getting a bit too complicated.  Maybe I should go hiking the Himalayas and eat grass on my way to the top.  That sounds very appealing.  Need to start researching that idea.  Would my lungs be able to go up so high?  We’ll find out…maybe one of these days…but, on the other hand, I may end up becoming a goat.

Until next time…please have as much cake, pie, and ice cream in my honor.  I almost can taste it already.

Your Happy Contessa

“My life is one big piece of cake… I am loving it and having it too.”  Me



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Stilettos…Part 2…The Sequel…


Not for a moment I would doubt my IQ…I never had it tested, and if I would have, there would be a separate category for people like me.  So,  I need to question my perception of distance and height.  Let me explain…

I bought a pair of stilettos thinking they were 5 inches high and I thought…Yeah! I still got it…just to find out when I went to return the shoes that they were not 5 inches…they were at the most 3 1/2 inches high.  She showed me what five inches looked like and I couldn’t close my mouth.  So an apology is in order to my friends of a very famous social network.  I had announced to my limited world of friends (and I like I that way) that I was going to attempt to dance in those shoes.  I just couldn’t get my groove and style flowing with those now known as 3 1/2 inches high.  Another smack on my face given to me by the aging factor.  What else is checking out next?

I am aware of some other things that are shining by their absence, but, on the other hand, some other things have come back into the forefront of my life that I thought were non-existent.  I’ll keep it to myself…but can’t help to share…I think I am infatuated or have a crush on someone, so the happy, butterflies on my stomach feeling is very alive and kicking.  It feels great!

Ok, enough of that…the stilettos showing on the above picture are officially 4 1/2 inches high.  A very dear friend of mine, with whom I spent the afternoon on Mother’s Day had a measuring tape in her purse (she is almost perfect, always prepared), and she made sure I had the height right.  I insisted on trying them on.  No…I couldn’t dance with those sleek and sexy looking shoes.  I need to start accepting in my mind that my body is a good number of decades old.  The mind wants to be sexy, chic and daring, but the body just wants to play safe.  This is not a good thing.  I am definitely not ready for this kind of boring stuff.

Every day that goes by represents a-I-don’t-even-know-what-to-call-it-effect on my mind.  Someone is messing up with my brain, and I am on the search for a solution.  Ponce de Leon and the Fountain of Youth, where the heck are you now.  I am in Florida, and definitely by what I see every day, it is not here.

I can see that my small mean mentality is very active.

So…there you have it…another episode in the life of “life only gets more interesting as you age.”  Shoot the imbecile that said that.

Pondering, but Happy Contessa

I’ve reached that age where my brain went from “you probably shouldn’t say or do that” to “what the hell, let’s see what happens.”  Wish I knew who said that.

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Tumultuous Relationships…


Meet the most violent corner of my home.  This is where threats are made to blow up one of the computers.  Please notice I have two, the good-old-friendly one, and the new beast that has a bloody mind of its own.  I have threatened to shoot the new beast with a bb gun I am trying to borrow from a relative, but it really does not matter what I do, say or try to intimidate it with sending it to recycle heaven, the new beast would just do as it —–well pleases.  I need to ponder on the situation because it is really a super fast, super slick, with the magic of LED, so that means everybody look prettier, and I am still paying for it!

This is like a really sour, bad, love-hate relationship going on here.  Who needs a husband, when I have something that behaves like one right here.  Seriously…

I think masochism must be on my DNA because I decided that today was the perfect day to bring out my sewing machine, the one I have not used for years.  I bought that machine to make my own curtains when we moved to North Carolina in 2006.  I calculated that the cost was going to be less than having them done by an outsider versus yours truly, and after I figured out the cost of fabric and sewing machine, etc. we were ahead a couple of hundred dollars.  So, voila, we bought a sewing machine.  Curtains came out really nice, I made sure that the pattern had lines, so all I had to do was sew in a straight line…all the time.  Mission accomplished on that one.

Now let’s move back to the future…this morning I thought about fixing two pair of slacks, croppers, because I really like them, but they are too big for my new version of skinny everything.  Like to show my total absence of curves, if you guess what I mean.  The black pair came out perfect, that was after spending one hour figuring out how to thread the machine and bobbin.  My hair is freaking out by all these new attempts.  The white pair…well, if I was 60 lbs or 30 or so kilos, they would be just perfect.  Now, the question is…I am more tempted to lose the pounds than to face that sewing machine again.

As you notice on the picture, all these machines, when in use make a community of three, versus a population of one on Planet Noury.

I feel sometimes that I need to be careful how deep I breath in my place, because one or all  of these machines may turn on against me at any given moment.

No kidding…or yes, a little.  There’s really nothing, absolutely nothing boring about my life.  Like it that way.

One interesting Cinco de Mayo in my part of the universe.

Happy Contessa

“What there’s not to like about technology and old age.”  Guess who said this.  Bingo!



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Selfies and Welcome to Summer!!


As you noticed, I did not show my whole body on this picture…there’s a reason or many, many reasons why.

Here in Central Florida summer has arrived, so short sleeves, shorts and all other related items are taking their rightful place in my closet and drawers.

That’s when I started to notice some parts on my body that were not there before the cold season started.  What in the world has happened?  I thought I had managed to keep my weight and shape in check, but…no, oh no!  Horror of horrors…pictures are telling me another story.  I never had an abundance of material around my hips, but now I see things I never noticed before.

This is very serious matter to me.  You all know how vain I am.  If I cut my portions of food there won’t be anything left on the plate for me to munch on.  This is a crisis.  I am serious.

Age is not a helping factor, so I cannot go out there and kill myself jogging, pump iron and do all the kind of things these younger chicks do.  No match for me.  Surgery, heck no… cannot stand the sight of my own blood.  So what am I going to do?

I need divine intervention.  He already knows me and He has an incredible sense of humor, so I have requested an appointment for some guidance and enlightenment.  I am really devastated.  :(

I will keep you posted as to what in the world I am going to do.

Happy Contessa

“I have been dieting all morning…am I skinny yet?”  Someone as desperate as I am.



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