Whip It, Whip It Good!

I have several things to tell you about.  So hang with me, it will be worth it.

First off, brussel sprouts.  Nice normal brussel sprouts you get in the fresh food area in your local grocery store.  Not quite!  I rounded the corner from the fruit to the veggies and saw this:


I that not amazing?  We used to grow them as a kid for fun and then when we lived on the land in Hammond and had the huge garden I had rows of them.  But this is the first time I have seen them like this in a grocery store!

The blue is the tag.

 I added my hand in there to show you how big this was.  I love it!

Last night was the Xmas party of one of the guilds I belong to and we ate out at Parrains' Seafood, so I had a steak.  It was OK.  We swapped Fat Quarters and I think I was the only one that didn't get a batik or a modern solid.  Mine was definitely red.

So the second thing is this.  I ws readiing a blogger friend's post about WIP Wednesday and how she always thinks of the song "Whip It" by Devo.  "It's not too late to whip it, whip it good! I say Whip it, whip it good!"

Well, "whip it" got me in trouble a number of years back.  We had moved into this house we are in now in 1985. Carrie was born and several years later,  I decided I wanted a cement dog to sit on the front porch so we drove to Pontchatoula one Saturday to the cement statue place and checked it out.

There were a bunch of cement dogs there.  An Irish Setter, a bull dog, a collie and a German shephherd dog.  And there were some cement puppies of indeterminate breed.  We wandered around the huge yard looking at all the options.  I decided to get this guy.

So I tell the 17 or so year old owner's son (being forced to work for his dad on Saturdays) that I wanted the whippet.

He stood stone still for a moment, then he slowly looked up at me and said, you want to what?

In my blind stupidity I repeated once again, I want the whippet.

Now, need I tell you as a Cajun in South Louisiana we pronounce  "the" as "da"?

Now he was SURE of what I said and his eyes were as wide as saucers and he was sputtering like a holy man in Hooters.  I still had no idea what was going on, so I said, Do you need some help?

He looked at me like he was going to cry and ran like a bat out of hell to the other side of the yard.  His father came to me presently and said with an odd look on his face, Can I help you ma'am?  I explained that I had looked at all the dogs he had and had decided on the whippet.

He bust out laughing! I did go home with that whippet, but it wasn't unil I got in the car that I realized what the kid thought I said!

Now, every time we go in the front of the house, Frank says, hey, there's your whippet!

And yes, there he is, whipping it.