Lulabelle Eats Asia: Aussie Style Soft Licorice Candy (OK, I fudged this one a little bit. Technically Australia is next to Asia so it counts, right? :-D )

**OH. MY. GOSH. You guys, did you get to see the eclipse yesterday? Chad and I traveled out of state to see it in totality, and I am still not sure how to describe it. I have so many blog stories in my head from this weekend, my brain is about to explode. So I need to write those. But today I am in post vacation recovery mode, so I thought I’d go through my archived “not yet finished” posts and review a food product. 

This piece was started awhile ago, as evidenced by the fact that I reference seeing “Beauty and the Beast” in the theatre. (The one with Emma Watson, not the original 90’s version 😉 ) 

This is also a continuation of my “Lulabelle Eats Asia” series. 

Enjoy! 


Licorice. It’s a sweet treat that I happen to LOVE. Like, I can easily eat most of a large package of Twizzlers by myself.

Hey, I said I could. I didn’t say it was a good idea. 😛 On Tuesday my best friend and I saw Beauty and the Beast in the theatre and passed the snack counter where we picked up popcorn and chocolate crunch balls. I briefly picked up a sleeve of Twizzlers, then put them down with a sigh. I’d like to go see the movie again and am trying to find someone to go with me. I even offered to buy them popcorn and Twizzlers.

I may have also warned them I would probably eat the Twizzlers.

You know, in the spirit of honesty and stuff. 😛

So when Chad picked these out of the international food aisle at Kroger and brought them home, I was elated.

Smell: Like cloyingly sweet Kool Aid powder. With a bite of organic fruit leather your mom made herself because Fruit Roll Ups don’t contain enough actual fruit.

Taste: This was confusing because based on the smell, I would have thought the flavor would have been stronger. Whoa! The flavor does kick in after you’ve chewed and swallowed. So the flavor is like if you were to take strawberry jelly and make it into a short and fat licorice chew. It finishes off with a tangy, slightly spicy flavor. Very nice.

Texture: very chewy and you have to work a bit to get all the left over bits off your teeth. 

All in all these were great and I’m definitely on the look out for them again. 

Photo on 2017-03-16 at 00.33 #2

While not exactly a koala bear (like at all. She’s a cat who thinks she’s human, but has a tail that moves like a squirrel when she gets too excited and jumps around) our oldest, Phoebe, wanted to pose with the bag of licorice. She also wanted to eat some, but I put on my “mean mom” hat and told her no. 😉 

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LAFF: Sibling Rivalry

Last week I woke up with Phoebe our oldest cat, standing on my stomach, staring into my soul.

She never blinks.

It’s creepy.

But whenever she comes over and stands on my lap or stomach, it means she needs something. But she had food, water and a clean litter box, so I was confused. And I had just woken up and hadn’t yet had coffee, so I was REALLY confused.

Until I began to hear scratching coming from our office door. Our closed office door. Then I realized what had happened. See, a few weeks ago Riley taught himself a new trick. He taught himself how to close the office door.

From the inside.

When he’s on the wrong side of the door to be able to do anything about it.

Then he scratches at the door until you come to rescue him. Sometimes when you go to open the door too soon after he gets in there, he’ll push against the door and swipe his paws underneath the door rapidly while meowing excitedly.

This time he must have been in there for a while because as soon as I opened the door he paused for a moment, shook his head and swiftly exited the scene. 

Yeah, didn’t even thank me. 😛 

The thing that warmed my heart about this whole episode was that Phoebe had come to me to let me know that her brother needed help. Even though Riley likes to jump on her and picks fights with her all the time, at the end of the day, she was worried about him. 

Or she was just annoyed by the sound of him scratching at the door. She’s a cat, it’s hard to tell. 😉 

Riley also tells us when he is worried about Phoebe. Awhile back we had to stay the night at a motel and Phoebe HATES riding in the car. As soon as she was in the room, she went and hid under the bed. Riley began to meow and run back and forth between us and her hiding spot. Like he was telling us where she was so we could get her out. 

I’m so glad they really love each other deep down inside. Despite the photographic evidence below. 😛 

Phoebe and Riley on Bed _LI

One of my favorite photos of our fur-babies. And I know what you are thinking, “Awww! That’s so sweet that you let a kindergartener caption your photo!”

Yeah, that’s all me.
Took me 45 minutes.
Thanks Windows 10! 😛 😀 

LAFF on Monday: The Key Fiasco…….

The events in the following blog happened a month ago but I haven’t been able to upload this until today.  Enjoy!


We have a good news/bad news situation here. The good news is that after my blog about our fruit fly infestation, they hit the road and we are fruit fly free (try to say that 10 times fast 😛 ).

The bad news is that my set of house keys went missing last Sunday morning. As in, we had the door open to walk/roll out to the car to go to church and Chad wanted to make sure I had my keys and when I went to look in my purse, they were gone.

Now, I didn’t immediately panic because this happens to us more frequently than you might think (or if you know us in real life, you wonder why it doesn’t happen more often). But in the moment I didn’t panic because 9 times out of 10 when we can’t find the house keys it usually takes no more than 10 minutes to find them and get out the door.

This was the 10th time.

So instead of going to church, we listened to Pandora praise and worship music while we TORE. THE. HOUSE. APART. looking for my keys.

No luck. And because we didn’t have an extra set of keys (they were lost a few months ago. Like I said earlier, I’m surprised this hadn’t happened sooner), we couldn’t both leave the house because we had no way of locking the door behind us. While home we continued to look over places we had already checked.

Sunday turned into Monday with no keys in sight.

So to sum up, in the last week we’ve dealt with what seemed to be an apocalyptic influx of fruit flies and now our only set of keys was gone.

If this had been Biblical times, we’d be readying for frogs to start falling from the sky. Or festering boils on our skin. At this point the element of surprise seems to be an important part in our current list of crises.

So when Monday rolled around I decided to up my “finding” game. At this point Chad and I had a theory that our youngest cat, Riley, had somehow taken off with my keys and hid them because he seems to have a bit of separation anxiety when I specifically leave the house for any length of time.

This theory was weird to me because my key chain is particularly heavy and I had my doubts up to this point that Riley would be able to carry them off.

Until Monday afternoon when my keys had not shown up, even after clearing out sections of our house that hadn’t been cleaned since the mid 80’s.

I even went into the bathroom and went through our full trash-piece-by-piece (and shaking it to see what would fall out) to no avail. It was like a disgusting version of “Double Dare” except there was no cash prize for finding my keys.

Then I moved back into the living room and turned my attention towards our couch (that has been in Chad’s family for over 40 years and looks like it. But it’s so comfortable we wouldn’t think to throw it away.)

When no keys were found underneath the cushions, I knew what I had to do. I would have to take all the cushions off the couch and upholstered chair that was its twin (Yep the couch has a mini-me) and stick my hand into the cracks to see what I could find.

This is where panicked ensued. I REALLY didn’t want to do that. Like, the couch is over 40 years old and who KNOWS what has fallen into the cracks in that time.

**BLECH** (Sidenote: Now I know this is written medium, so you couldn’t tell but that “blech” was me dry heaving looking back on the memory of sticking my hands down the cracks of the couch.)

No keys. Dang-it!

So then I moved onto the couch’s “mini-me,” removed the cushion, said a small prayer to my Lord and Savior and stuck my hand down the back crevice of the chair.

I hit the mother-load! And by mother-load I mean Riley’s hiding spot for random items found in our house.  I do have a picture somewhere of all the items I found, but because I’m too lazy to try to find it (I may upload it here later), I’ll just list them below. In the crack of the chair I found: 5 q-tips, the other end of the tampon that he’d kicked underneath the fridge, a ball point pen, one of his stuffed mice toys and one of Chad’s hair picks! When I pulled out the hair pick, I began to realize the probability was pretty high that our over-sized furry Cheeto had made off with my keys.

Guys, I even combed through the litter boxes just to make sure he didn’t put them in there.
He hadn’t.
Phew!

Two nights later I’m still looking for my keys in our suddenly clean could-eat-off-the-floor-or-lick-it living room, when I heard Chad come home from work. As he’s walking up to our porch I hear something jangling. When he walked into the house he said, “Guess what I found?” And proceeds to pull out MY KEYS!!

Apparently one night after work, Chad was walking up to the house and ran into one of our neighbors. Distracted, he set the keys down on our railing while he had a conversation with our neighbor. And forgot about them. At some point that night my keys fell off the railing and into the bushes.

Where they had been laughing at us ever since for not finding them sooner.

So after we FINALLY got my keys back, we immediately went to get copies made to make sure when we lost our keys again because we will because it’s us  give to our closest friends so that we’d have a way to get in the house if we ever lose them again.

We trust and love these friends so much, they are in our will. Seriously. So we felt very comfortable giving them a spare set of keys to our house just in case.

Guys, can you see where this is going? Yeah, hours after handing over our spare keys to our closest friends in the world, THEY. WENT. MISSING. AGAIN. 

Yeah. I couldn’t make this up if I tried. At this point all we could do was laugh and be grateful we had another set of back up keys.

At least our friends found our spare set 3 hours later. Which is why they are in our will. 

Cheers! 😀

Riley's Stash

Photographic evidence that we are in way over our heads appears courtesy of our personal photo archives 

The One Where Lulabelle Reconsiders Hygiene Rules She’s Followed Since Childhood…….

Well that lasted 9 months. Almost 9 months to the exact day. But today I had to do a reset of sorts.

Guys, I have to reset my vomit clock.

Again.

And to add insult to injury I was doing something you are taught in childhood to do several times a day to stay healthy.

I was brushing my teeth.

Yeah.

Let me repeat that.

I threw up because I was BRUSHING. MY. TEETH.

Now to ensure my breath is fresh, I brush over my tongue. I’ve down this for years. But today for some reason when I brushed my tongue my body decided it wanted to be reminded of what I had for breakfast.

In reverse.

Now I can probably pin-point the reason why this happened if I think back to how heavy-handed I can be with brushing my teeth. I once went to the dentist for a toothache and was told that it was gum inflammation caused by flossing my teeth too hard. He literally ordered me to STOP FLOSSING MY TEETH FOR A FEW DAYS.

True story! I mean WHO DOES THAT? 

Me, apparently. 😛 

So if you are keeping track, so far in the last 9 months the following things I used to partake in to keep myself healthy, I am now hesitant to ever do again in life: 

1. Take generic fish oil gel capsules that are the same size as the woman’s multivitamin I used to consume. 

2. The aforementioned woman’s multi-vitamin whose size had been labeled a “horse” pill. Why we are comparing vitamin size to a pill a horse takes is beyond me. I am not a horse so I shouldn’t have to digest something that is normally shoved up a horse’s nether regions. (I’m sure it’s probably taken orally, but surely sometimes this happens? Yes? Moving on…..) 

3. Brushing my teeth. Now I appreciate and love the feelings of slick, clean teeth on my tongue as much as the next guy, but when you see your breakfast in reverse after such an activity, you begin to think that maybe it’s not that big of a deal if your teeth get fuzzy and your breath becomes so foul that it could bring dragons back to life. 

I’ve always wanted a dragon.

And to be honest it would be quite useful at this point in my life. 😛 

So apparently what we have learned from all this is that growing older has some unintended consequences that I’m glad I didn’t know beforehand. 

I just hope the next time I brush my hair, it doesn’t fall out. 

Fingers crossed. 

It is a scientific fact that I’ve never once barfed after eating licorice. This is not my fault. It’s science. 

The One Where Lulabelle Writes An e-Harmony Profile For King Henry VIII…….

For the past few weeks I’ve been on a British history kick, specifically learning about King Henry VIII. I’ve watched many documentaries about his life and the lives of each of his wives, including the circumstances surrounding his edicts that 2 of his wives be beheaded.

And right away, I know what you are thinking “Dang, this guy sounds like quite the catch.” #SoMuchSarcasm 😛

So it got me thinking: For a king as powerful as Henry VIII and the way news traveled back then, how was it that women kept marrying this guy knowing what happened to 25% of his betrothen? (Is betrothen a word? Eh, it should be.)

If Henry VIII had lived in modern times, I’m sure his e-Harmony profile would read as follows:

Looking For: Level-headed woman to sire my heir. Must enjoy irony and be flexible enough to weather through my many moods with grace and class, and pretend as though this is just normal life. Must have wide child-bearing hips.

Must not be ugly. Like, I probably won’t behead you solely for being ugly, but I will most likely force you into a divorce, make you move out and refer to you as my sister for the rest of my life. (Anne Of Cleves)

A perfect candidate for my wife would also have a steeply skewed view of biology and believe that she has everything to do with determining the gender of our future children. All babies must be boys.

My heir needs a spare, who needs a spare, who needs a spare.  

Hobbies: eating, jousting in disguise, eating some more, seeing the royal physician for my festering leg wound, composing music no one listens to anymore and…..eating. Oh, and drinking.

Religious Affiliation: I was raised Roman Catholic but I wanted to divorce my first wife (I had to as she kept having girls-*blech*), but the Pope wouldn’t grant it, so I said, “Oh screw it! I’m the king!” and made my own church *so I could grant my own divorce.

Musical Preference: I compose my own. But it uses a form of British English that is no longer in use so it’s a bit niche.

Favorite food: I enjoy meat. LOTS of meat. I also enjoy wine and beer and bread. I’m not a fan of vegetables, but enjoy fruit, specifically strawberries.

What is Your Idea of the Perfect Date: Well, before my festering leg wound opened up and became infected I did enjoy romantic walks on the beach, but that’s now out so my perfect date today would be a big dinner at home and music afterwards. After the music plays we’d talk about when we’d want to get married and what we’d name our sons.

What? Too much pressure?


*In my research, I discovered that the COE existed **kind of** before King Henry’s divorce. His decree just gave him power to supersede papal decisions. I think that’s how it went anyway. I was doing this research when I should have been in bed late last night. 😛

LAFF On Sunday: Accidental DIY’s…….

I have a question for those ladies that are um, well endowed in the chesticle region. Has the following ever happened to you? Picture it:

You just got out of the bathtub and while standing up to reach for something, you start to lose your balance. On instinct you bend your knees to try to rebalance yourself, but your knees start bending inward whilst at the same time your left boob, without forewarning, has dropped down BETWEEN YOUR KNEES!

Can you see where this is going?

Yes folks, it seems I just gave myself my first mammogram. At least it was free and I don’t need another one for at least another year.

Yay? 😛

Bonus LAFF on Saturday: It’s In The Bag-The One Where Lulabelle Reviews a New Cat Litter……..

I changed the cat litter yesterday and used a new to us litter. We aren’t partial to one brand over another, as long as it’s clumping and it’s on sale, we buy it. I didn’t think anything about it when I went into our cat litter room to change out the litter.

I immediately noticed that the new bag of unopened litter didn’t seem to have a resealable top. Annoyed, I grabbed a pair of scissors that I vowed never to use again for food and set about opening the bag.

The scissors broke. Apparently this brand of litter wants to make it so difficult to open the bag that people mistake it for a bag of plutonium and think long and hard before they purchase it.

Undeterred I took one side of the broken scissors and cut a slit in the end of the bag and broke it open. I scooped out each of the boxes and replaced the litter with clean. I then realized I wasn’t able to close the bag with anything, so I just propped it up against the wall closest to the entrance and went to bed.

This would prove to be a bad life choice.

I woke up late today and as I came into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, I happened to glance into the cat litter room…..and realized the error of my ways. The open bag of litter I had propped up against the wall nearest the entrance of the litter box room, was now on its side on the floor, litter spilling out over the entrance to the room.

Oops!

Apparently our furry Frick and Frack conspired together to knock over the bag of litter in the night whilst we slept. Not only had they knocked over the bag, but when it spilled out, they decided to um, “test-drive it” so to speak. To the point that some “out put” had landed IN. THE. BAG. 

Apparently we are raising over-achievers. I guess I should be proud. Or something.

So to sum up, if your life-long dream is to make cat litter, please make sure it comes in a resealable container. Especially if you have your own furry Frick and Frack.