This. Is. War.

It’s Wednesday. We have company coming for the 4th celebration. I’m excited. Can’t wait to see everyone – some we only see a couple of times a year. But it’s Wednesday. So I load up my husband and we drive to Little Rock, an hour away, to shop at Sam’s. I shop, shop, shop. I need stuff – toilet paper, cereal, sugar, Tylenol PM, you know – stuff. I buy a Sam’s Apple Pie – huge, enormous, beautiful Apple Pie. If you haven’t tried Sam’s Apple Pie then stop what you’re doing right now and go buy one. You won’t be sorry. I buy Hershey’s Brownie Mix. If you haven’t tried Hershey’s Brownie Mix then stop what you’re doing right now and go buy one. You won’t be sorry. That’s the last time I’m gonna’ say that, promise. We load everything in the car and I say to husband, “Husband, I have to go to WalMart now.” I’m not sure I can describe the look he gave me. I just spent $$$ at Sam’s and I HAVE to go to WalMart to buy more. His reply, the sweet thing, “We have to go home and unload this stuff first because you can’t get any more stuff in this car.” Of course, he said it in a very low voice with his teeth tightly together. But he said it, and that counts. We unload and put away and we’re off to WalMart. Where I buy more stuff. Milk, bread, cheese, orange juice, garbage bags….stuff. We come home, unload and put away.



It’s Thursday. Company coming…..clean, clean, clean, cook, cook, cook. I make a double batch of brownies with pecans. Sinful. But then I think to myself, “Oh no, Son doesn’t like pecans and grandson is allergic to nuts!” So I make another double batch of brownies, plain. I make refrigerator Raisin Bran Muffin Mix and bake a dozen. I put the rest of the mix in the fridge to bake fresh the next couple of mornings. (Great recipe that keeps up to 6 weeks in the fridge and you can bake 1 or 2 or 20 when you want.)



I have stuff sitting everywhere – chips on the washer, bread on the bar, brownies on the cabinet. What to do. I have a brilliant idea! No one uses my front door so I get out a folding table and put it by that door. I cover it with this wonderful antique feed sack quilt top that I found for a bargain price and haven’t quilted yet. Cute, cute, cute. It will be ok because no one will be eating on it, there’s nothing to spill on it, and it will be safe. I load it up – the bread, the chips, the cinnamon rolls/honey buns/cheese Danish, the Apple Pie, both plates of brownies and the muffins. I’m so smart. And cute, don’t forget cute.




It’s Friday. We’re going up the lake today to some friends/family and I want to take a cake. In fact, I’m going to make 2 cakes – Nanny’s Orange Cake. Everyone loves it and they’ll love me for making it! I gather up all the ingredients when I remember those muffins. They start calling me by name and I do need to keep up my strength so I go to my cute, cute, cute table to get one. The whole table is covered with ants. Hundreds of ants. Millions of ants. Gazillions of ants. I scream. I grab a plate of brownies and run to the kitchen and put the brownies down the disposal. My husband grabs the other plate and puts it on the dining table. He starts bringing other stuff to the kitchen while I put that huge, enormous, beautiful Apple Pie down the disposal. I grab the second plate of brownies from the dining table, which is now covered with ants, and put them down the disposal. I yell at my husband to grab the quilt top, the really special I don’t know how old antique quilt top and take it outdoors. He says, “I can’t. It would scatter ants everywhere if I did that.” I finish stuffing everything down the disposal – did I say the brownies, the muffins, the pie all had to go down the disposal? – and head to the living room. Where I see my DH spraying the quilt top with ant spray. Stunned silence. I can’t breathe silence. I can’t move my feet silence. He’s efficient. He’s quick. The quilt top is soaked. He jumps over to the dining table and sprays it, including the red, white and blue Americana Table Runner that I made. Gasp. Before I can move he grabs the quilt top and the table runner, sticks them in the washer with some blue checked sheets I had stuffed in there earlier, adds laundry detergent and turns it on. The washer. Regular detergent. Normal cycle. Red, white, blue, feed sack quilt top. Together.



I’ve never liked ants. Insidious creatures. We’ve fought them in this house ever since we bought it. They want in. I want them gone. We spray and we sprinkle. I keep everything sealed so they can’t possible smell anything and be tempted to come in. Everything on that table was covered tightly with Glad Press ‘N Seal. I shall boycott Glad. And I am declaring War. Ants you better watch out ‘cause I am mad. And I am relentless. And I never forget.