I found this! LMAO! (And this is a true story, so help me!) Ahem: "Several years ago, some smarty-pants posted the following recipe: ROAST STICKY CHICKEN 4 tsp salt 1 tsp cayenne pepper 1 tsp thyme tsp garlic powder 2 tsp paprika 1 tsp onion powder 1 tsp white pepper ½ C chopped onion 1 large roasting chicy In a small bowl, thoroughly combine all the spices. Remove giblets from the chicy; clean the cavity well, and pat dry with paper towels. Rub the spice mixture into the chicy, both inside and out, making sure it is evenly distributed and rubbed deep down into the skin. Place in a resealable plastic bag, seal and refrigerate overnight. When ready to cook chicy, put in a crock-pot and do not add any liquid. As the cooking process goes on, it will produce its own juices. Cook on low 8 to 10 hours, and it will be falling off the bone tender. Sounds simple, right? I got a wild hair one Friday to fix it, and then cook it the next day. So, after work, I went to the grocery (no list, mind you, just reliance on my mighty memory! SNORT!) and proceeded to run amuck. I couldnÂt remember just what spice I had, and when I got a good look at the prices, I decided that I had all the ones that were required, and so I just bought a fresh chicy. Got home, got comfortable, Rog was at work, and all was right with the world. UntilÂ..I got to looking for the spices, and realized to my horror that I was missing a great deal of what I needed. Hmmmm get dressed and go back to the store, or improvise? Improvise, it is! No cayenne? I got FrankÂs Hot Sauce. Thyme? DonÂt need no stinkin thyme! I got oregano! Garlic powder?? Please. I got the real thing. White pepper---ahhhhÂ. I do have that. UmmmÂ. No, I donÂt. I do have an empty can in the cabinet, but I donÂt think that counts. So, I improvised, substituted and down-right lied. Got all the spice together, and then started to mess with my fresh chicy, that I paid more for than my stupid car. As I am pulling out the giblet bag, I noticed that it was hard and cold. Not good, as fresh anything should not be partially frozen. As it reposed on the counter, and I was contemplating on whether I should get the bourbon or tequila out (for me), the d@mned chicy tried to make a run for it and slid off the counter. Onto the dirt and grime, decimated frozen peas, and lots of cat hair that make up the daily mess of my kitchen floor. Freakin greatÂnow IÂm gonna hafta shave the d@mned thing before I can use the rub. I pick it up and throw it into the sink, spreading unimaginable gunk everywhere, wash and dry it, nail it to the counter, and start to apply the rub. Lemme tell yaÂthis ainÂt as easy as it sounds. Nothing like massaging a cold, dead chicy, and getting the impression that it actually likes itÂewwwww! And I donÂt know what they mean by "Large Roasting Chicy". What the h3ll is that?? Mine was 6 pounds, and the rub didnÂt seem to cover it like I thought it should. So, into the galleon sized Zip-Lock bag it goes. No, wait. The d@mned chicy is too big and when I try to shove it in the bag, the rub is getting shoved into the grooves of the sealing part, and itÂs not staying on the chicken. H3LL! LetÂs try this again, and dig outta the grooves as much rub as I can, and smear it on the chicy. DidnÂt work this time, either. (Note: Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Case in point.) I cuss and I fuss, and I finally got the chicy in the bag (BARELY!!), and now, the Zip Lock wonÂt lock. Too much rub in the grooves, and nothing, short of dynamite, will clear it out. OK. IÂm tired, IÂve killed the kitchen, I have spice rub and cat hair all over my face and arms (where they stuck in the chicken juice). I donÂt care anymore. I will be in the local mental facility tomorrow anyway, so why do I care about tomorrowÂs dinner? The chicken won. The rub won. The d@mned Zip Lock (that wonÂt) bag won. They had, until I remember my stapler. My handy dandy, will staple anything, always there for me, stapler. With a maniacal laugh and a smile that would put the Joker to shame, I dug it out of the drawer, and proceeded to staple that d@mned bag **shut**. I was a staplin fool, and I only stopped when I ran out of staples. IÂm sure the neighbors were wondering what was going on as I told the bagged chicy "IÂll get you, my pretty, and your d@mned rub, too!" along with the sounds of out of control stapling. I did eventually get some cheap wine and take a bubblebath, after showering off the remnants of the chicy. Rog saw the poor creature stuffed in the fridge, and wisely chose not to say anything until the next day. The chicy was very good, however, but every time I see a galleon sized Zip lock bag, I get an irresistible urge to staple something."

LOL!! I can poof my hips plenty, but it's the un-poofing that has me stumped! LOL!!! Dee--only if there is a red Swingline Stapler involved! (Did you ever see the movie "office Space"? I can relate to Milton, although my stapler is in more of a kitchen-y setting!) Tikanas, I remember you asked about me and that stapler--here ya go--the infamous chicy story--- Several years ago, some smarty-pants posted the following recipe: ROAST STICKY CHICKEN 4 tsp salt 1 tsp cayenne pepper 1 tsp thyme tsp garlic powder 2 tsp paprika 1 tsp onion powder 1 tsp white pepper ½ C chopped onion 1 large roasting chicy In a small bowl, thoroughly combine all the spices. Remove giblets from the chicy; clean the cavity well, and pat dry with paper towels. Rub the spice mixture into the chicy, both inside and out, making sure it is evenly distributed and rubbed deep down into the skin. Place in a resealable plastic bag, seal and refrigerate overnight. When ready to cook chicy, put in a crock-pot and do not add any liquid. As the cooking process goes on, it will produce its own juices. Cook on low 8 to 10 hours, and it will be falling off the bone tender. Sounds simple, right? I got a wild hair one Friday to fix it, and then cook it the next day. So, after work, I went to the grocery (no list, mind you, just reliance on my mighty memory! SNORT!) and proceeded to run amuck. I couldnÂt remember just what spice I had, and when I got a good look at the prices, I decided that I had all the ones that were required, and so I just bought a fresh chicy. Got home, got comfortable, Rog was at work, and all was right with the world. UntilÂ..I got to looking for the spices, and realized to my horror that I was missing a great deal of what I needed. Hmmmm get dressed and go back to the store, or improvise? Improvise, it is! No cayenne? I got FrankÂs Hot Sauce. Thyme? DonÂt need no stinkin thyme! I got oregano! Garlic powder?? Please. I got the real thing. White pepper---ahhhhÂ. I do have that. UmmmÂ. No, I donÂt. I do have an empty can in the cabinet, but I donÂt think that counts. So, I improvised, substituted and down-right lied. Got all the spice together, and then started to mess with my fresh chicy, that I paid more for than my stupid car. As I am pulling out the giblet bag, I noticed that it was hard and cold. Not good, as fresh anything should not be partially frozen. As it reposed on the counter, and I was contemplating on whether I should get the bourbon or tequila out (for me), the d@mned chicy tried to make a run for it and slid off the counter. Onto the dirt and grime, decimated frozen peas, and lots of cat hair that make up the daily mess of my kitchen floor. Freakin greatÂnow IÂm gonna hafta shave the d@mned thing before I can use the rub. I pick it up and throw it into the sink, spreading unimaginable gunk everywhere, wash and dry it, nail it to the counter, and start to apply the rub. Lemme tell yaÂthis ainÂt as easy as it sounds. Nothing like massaging a cold, dead chicy, and getting the impression that it actually likes itÂewwwww! And I donÂt know what they mean by "Large Roasting Chicy". What the h3ll is that?? Mine was 6 pounds, and the rub didnÂt seem to cover it like I thought it should. So, into the galleon sized Zip-Lock bag it goes. No, wait. The d@mned chicy is too big and when I try to shove it in the bag, the rub is getting shoved into the grooves of the sealing part, and itÂs not staying on the chicken. H3LL! LetÂs try this again, and dig outta the grooves as much rub as I can, and smear it on the chicy. DidnÂt work this time, either. (Note: Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Case in point.) I cuss and I fuss, and I finally got the chicy in the bag (BARELY!!), and now, the Zip Lock wonÂt lock. Too much rub in the grooves, and nothing, short of dynamite, will clear it out. OK. IÂm tired, IÂve killed the kitchen, I have spice rub and cat hair all over my face and arms (where they stuck in the chicken juice). I donÂt care anymore. I will be in the local mental facility tomorrow anyway, so why do I care about tomorrowÂs dinner? The chicken won. The rub won. The d@mned Zip Lock (that wonÂt) bag won. They had, until I remembered my stapler. My handy dandy, will staple anything, always there for me, stapler. With a maniacal laugh and a smile that would put the Joker to shame, I dug it out of the drawer, and proceeded to staple that d@mned bag **shut**. I was a staplin fool, and I only stopped when I ran out of staples. IÂm sure the neighbors were wondering what was going on as I told the bagged chicy "IÂll get you, my pretty, and your d@mned rub, too!" along with the sounds of out of control stapling. I did eventually get some cheap wine and take a bubblebath, after showering off the remnants of the chicy. Rog saw the poor creature stuffed in the fridge, and wisely chose not to say anything until the next day. The chicy was very good, however, but every time I see a galleon sized Zip lock bag, I get an irresistible urge to staple something. Now, aren't you sorry you asked???? LOLOL!!! Hugs, Maddie

I am glad you enjoyed the reading. It sure was a wonderful trip. I am now trying to get all the pics offf my cell phone...sigh ...no memory card...and then I will get the whole thing put together. Will keep me busy for weeks ! c

I have the same situation with my grandaughter. My daughter died in 1995..it is so heartbreaking!! My grandaughter's step-mother has ben given authority by her father to make all decisions regarding her, Such as when and when not she can see us. We have no grandparent's visitation rights at least legally. Her father basically does not want to deal with us at all and her step-mother and father treat strangers better that they treat us. My daughter had Cystic Fibrosis from birth and basically she died from the complications of this disease. My grandaughter's father treated her mother very badly with no compassion at all. My husband went with our daughter to all OB visits and also with her to all of her CF doctor appointments. She left him three times but always went back. She even caught him in an affair. My daughter worked up until her death and should not have, she knew she would die eventually from this disease but he never thought this would happen. Her daughter was her whole life...before she died she asked me who would take care of her daughter of course I said I would and now I can't. Now my grandaughter's father thinks of her as a burden and now has a son from his third marriage, plus a son who is 19 from his first marriage. He has no relationship with his adult son but we do! He has problems in this marriage he and his wife fight a lot..it is just a mess! My grandaughter is in the midlle, and my heart breaks as your does!! Pat