How to: Make Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies

There's nothing quite so good as a houseful of homemade cookies. I love to see the happy faces of my neighbor's two little boys when they come over for my tasty treats. Of course, I've put on a few extra pounds from those treats myself, especially since Jack passed eleven years ago. He used to just love my chocolate oatmeal cookies. He'd eat them all in one night. I used to have to hide a couple for myself if I wanted any. It was such a joy to take a big plate of cookies over to Jack in his favorite chair, and watch him munch away washing down each bite with a swig of beer until he fell asleep to the evening news.

I sure do miss him, and I bet he misses my cookies. I wonder if they have cookies in hell? Anyway, if you'd like to get a taste of what I'm talking about, I'm giving away my special secret recipe. Write it down. The way my old body's falling apart these days, I might not be around to tell it to you a second time.

NO-BAKE CHOCOLATE OATMEAL COOKIES

2 cups sugar
1 stick butter (1/2 cup)
1/2 cup Pet milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 1/2 tablespoons cocoa
1/2 cup peanut butter
3 cups oats
1 tablespoon of love.

In a medium saucepan, combine all ingredients except peanut butter and oats and cook over medium heat. Let boil for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and stir in peanut butter and oats. Spoon out quickly onto wax paper or aluminum foil. Cookies will harden as they set.

There you have it. Share them with a loved one. I tear off a few pieces for my cat, Nibbles. I know the vet says I shouldn't, but if Nibbles doesn't tell him, I won't. (wink)

How to: Keep the Blacks Out of Your Yard

I've had two pots of mums disappear off of my porch this fall, and you better believe I know who did it. I'm sure it's the same ones that knocked my hummingbird feeder out of my oak tree last spring. My neighbors might be afraid to tell you, but I'll say it; it's the blacks.

They sneak into my yard after I've gone to bed, and wreak all kinds of havoc. I've had flowers dug up, McDonald wrappers in my driveway and oh; the beer cans. I'm forever picking beer cans up off the sidewalk in front of my lawn.

Don't get me wrong. I'm no racist. Why just last month, my grandson came over with a friend of his from school, who happened to be a little colored girl. Her name was LaShawnda or something or other like that and she couldn't have been more polite. Her parents both had jobs and she even went to church. On top of all this, she didn't steal any of my silver or anything. Trust, me I kept a sharp eye on her. Now, if my grandson were to ever date her, my husband Jack would roll over in his grave. But that'll never happen. He's a good boy.

So now that I've established that, let me get to how to keep your yard free of the blacks. First thing I did was put up a fence between myself and my neighbor Jeff who doesn't seem to care if the blacks just run willy-nilly through his yard. This takes care of most of it, because I'm sure they're mostly coming from his yard. Now Jeff tells me it doesn't do any good because blacks can jump real high, but he likes to tease me. Isn't that awful to do to an old woman?

Next thing you can do is put up security signs. I've got one that says "protected by neighborhood watch," even though we don't have a neighborhood watch, the blacks don't know it. I've got another that says I've got a security alarm even though I don't have one of those either. Lord knows I'd end up always tripping the gizmo myself. The police would probably get tired of it and just toss me in jail for trespassing in my own house! Wouldn't that be a sight, then I'd just be bothering the blacks in their territory. Finally, I've got a sign that says "No Soliciting" which probably doesn't do much to keep the blacks out, but it keeps those damn Jehova's Witnesses(which I think is some fancy kind of Jew) and politicians away.

I hope this helps, and good luck. If you're like me, you're going to need it. There's one more tip I left out. I keep a loaded Remmington 870 under my bed in case they try and get their kicks from an old woman they think can't defend herself. Give it a try, Kareem!

How to: Get Into Mrs. Rutledge's Yard

It's not as easy to get into Mrs. Rutledge's yard as it used to be. She's got all kinds of fences and security systems. It's enough to make you think she doesn't even want you to visit.

I've helped her with so many things, from taking care of her hummingbird problem, to contributing to her recyclables, to taking her sick mums to tend to. I'd like to return them, now that their healthy and in full bloom, but I just can't seem to get in that yard. I've had a few ideas on how to do it, but I know that pesky neighborhood watch would just catch me sneaking in and call the cops. And, we all know how quick to judge police can be when it comes to a black man poking his nose around after dark.

I've had to get pretty clever, even going so far as having my daughter LaShawnda forge a friendship with Mrs. Rutledge's grandson so she can do a little "recon" work in her house. I'd like to know a little more about her, so maybe I can bring a nice gift basket by and convince her to lighten the lawn security. I'd just like a chance to pop in and say "hello."

No luck thusfar, though. At this rate, I'm beginning think I'll never have the chance to sneak in and rape the bitch.

How to: Dispose of a Critter In Town

Livin' in town sure can muck things up sometimes. I cain't burn trash without stirrin' the damn firemen and causin' a ruckus. I cain't drain my oil into the gravel in my driveway without catchin' all kinds of hell. Shit, a man cain't even fire his own bought-and-paid-for shotgun in the air if he lives in town, lest he wants the poe-lice slappin' him in cuffs and talkin' his ear off about how neighbors don't appreciate a man's god given 2nd amendment rights in city limits.

Well, that gets me to my latest damn problem, which back where I grew up wouldn't be no problem at all. Last saturday, I was sittin' on my porch mindin' my own damn business when my old hound went to treein' a big fat squirrel. Ordinarily, I'll sit out on my foldin' chair while this goes on, suckin' on my beer and enjoyin' the show. However on this occasion, my ol' pup actually caught the damn thing and now I'm lookin' at one big damn mess.

First I had to wrassle the varmit out of ol' Dex's jaws, which weren't no damn easy job. He ain't yet caught one til now, and he weren't about to let loose his prize. Once I finally got the nasty summbitch away from the pup, then I had to decide what the hell to do with it.

Back where I grew up, I'd of just pitched it on into the woods and let nature chaw on it 'til it was nought but a nub. Well, I know my damn snooty neighbors would'a frowned on that plus the damn dog was likely sniff it out anywhoo. I didn't want to throw it in the trash neither, 'cause they only pick it up off the curb on fridays and it would'a stunk somthin' fierce in that bag all week. So, I made the only sensical decision a man could make. I threw the ol' critter into a Wal-Mart bag, pitched in the trunk of my jalopy and drove on down the Casey's mart to pick up some smokes and fill up on gas. While I was there, I took out the critter bag, wedged open Casey's trash can, and shoved the damn rodent in there for the gas station to worry about.

Problem solved. No stinkin' squirrels, no pesky neighbors, and no nosy damn city health official bitchin' about tossin' a squirrel on the roof for the birds to peck at. Hope that helped get you a little more used to life in the big city.