Do you think the Lord will judge us for not forwarding in emails that tell us He wants us to? Do you think there is an email reconciliation room in the Spirit World that looks through our history to see how many spiritual emails we received, and just deleted? And then will we be judged accordingly?
Man, I hope not.
She made it. My kid made the school talent show. I'm thrilled. She has potential, for sure, and I love that someone else recognizes this as well.
And I just booked a ticket to Utah for the middle of April. Just me, myself, and I. No kiddies. I kid you not. (I crack me up.) SugarDaddy is taking a couple of days off to daddysit, and I'm taking a couple of days for myself. I technically won't be in Utah for more than a few hours, since I fly in Friday morning, and leave that afternoon for Vegas. But it's better than nothing. I get to see my family, which has the potential for being a very.good.time.
Plus, I heard my mom's headstone just got finished. I can't wait to see it. I'm sure it's beauty won't do her justice, but if anyone could get it close, it would be my dad and the painstaking hours he spent getting it just right. Potentially wonderful to see a finished area dedicated just to her, and not just a blank spot of grass.
I know I missed our Fun For Friday, and I have a doozy in mind. I might double it up this week, depending on how exciting my life isn't for the next couple of days. But I promise, it will make you laugh. Okay, chuckle. Okay, at the very least, roll your eyes out of courtesy.
Later!
Last night for enrichment night we had a real treat. A man in our Ward is a retired chef from several restaurants in Chicago, including some Country Clubs. He's studied under Classic American chefs, German chefs, and Italian chefs, and brings a little of each to the table. He so graciously agreed to host our cooking class, and wow, did we have a great time.
He taught us how to make 3 simple pasta sauces from scratch. Easy stuff for him, but for some of us, me, it was nice to see that making it from scratch is almost easier than opening a bottle of some store brand.
We had a marinara with chunks of peppers, cherry tomatoes, and onion. Yum! Although those of you that know me, know I would forgo the cherry tomatoes in place of perhaps mushrooms or even tofu.
A dreamy easy garlic sauce. Perfect over shrimp or chicken, or just on it's own with some summer veggies on the side.
And last but not least, my absolute favorite, an Alfredo sauce that would knock your socks off. This one I'm making tonight. How easy is this. Heavy cream, simmered, some parmesean cheese melting in it, add a little salt and pepper to taste, pour over pasta with chicken, steak, veggies, husband, whatever, and voila! Perfect dinner.
I'll be sure and take pictures. I did make a yummy shrimp scampi on Sunday. I was in heaven. SugarDaddy was on the fence, he has shrimp issues that go back to the Sunday night visits with my parents and the shrimp had been sitting out all day. The kids, no way in heck were they touching the stuff. You know what that meant for me? Extra leftovers for lunch the next day! Yay!
You might think I'm turning into a Top Chef, and trust me, sometimes I think I am, but then I pull out a frozen pizza or a box of Mac n Cheese, and am humbled again. I'm still just me.
Saucy.
I wanted to go out today, I really did. I wanted to take Maggie to speech, and then let her have a play date at Duyah's house while she and I lamented over Organic something or other, and let loose our stresses and medication woes, and the fact that Spring wants to be here, it really does, but there seems to be some giant elastic band holding it back, back, back, readying it for a final release into Chicago.
I really did.
I wanted to take Neighbor Kate over some sour cream in exchange for the beef stock, both of which she has borrowed, cause I'm nice like that, so we could take turns telling her dog to shut up, and be interrupted mid sentence repeatedly by kids needing something now.
I wanted to run over to Emma's school and pick her up and bring her home so I could check her head myself. I wanted to make Maggie sit still for an hour so I could comb through every.single.inch of her hair (which would take forever, thanks, Nunn Bee) and look for nits and bugs.
But instead, I sit here and quarantine my kids into oblivion because I don't want to be that mom. You know, the one where she thinks her kids are immune to the bugs, sends them on their merry way, and sure enough, a week later, lice kids start popping up all over the place. I'm not doing that. I've worked in enough salons, and enough hospitals, to know how fast things can spread. Lice isn't something I want to tango with. Salsa, maybe. Tango, no way.
So tonight, those kids, which so far appear to be nit free, are not leaving the house. I'm vacuuming every inch of everything, and they're all taking baths tonight whether it's been a day or three days. Wash, wash, wash. Scrub scrub scrub.
I woke up feeling good today. I know! It's a miracle. I think part of it had to do with the fact that I took 3 Klonopin before I went to bed, ahhh, drug induced sleep, and part of it has to do with the fact that Emma has her school talent show try-outs today. I have a little nervous energy by proxy, I guess.
So I needed to keep busy this morning. I wasn't in the mood for a shower yet, so I started on dinner. I have a dentist appointment tonight (again), and knew I needed to get dinner made in advance, so I got the noodles going, and the meat browning.
Then I remembered a recipe I had come across in a book I had been reading. It sounded good at the time, so in the middle of the night, I snuck down to the computer and made a copy of it.
Today seemed like as good a time as any to try it out. So here it is.
Oh, and this has nothing to do with the noodles or meat. Completely different recipe, that one.
Popovers. Basically eggs, milk, flour and salt baked at high temperatures until they look like this. Now, the recipe said to use muffin tins. I have a handy dandy Popover Pan courtesy of Sugar Daddy and his sweet hook ups, so I thought I'd break that bad boy out and see what it could do.
Judging by the height on these things, I'm thinking a muffin tin would have been better. But how cool are they? They taste like a round German pancake.
Here's Gretta enjoying her popover. No, really, she is. I know the look on her face doesn't show it, but she was very concerned about me sitting on the floor and blocking her binky. You know, priorities. Next time I will definitely use a muffin tin. Or maybe just fill the popover pan half full. Or is it half empty?
I finished getting dinner ready in the time they were cooking. How cool do I feel right now? Yeah.
Here's the recipe for you recipephiles.
4 eggs, should be about 1 cup of eggs.
Beat for 1 minute with a whisk, just to incorporate them.
Add 2 cups milk.
Whisk again, just to incorporate.
Add 2 cups flour and 1tsp salt all at once, and mix with a wooden spoon. It will be lumpy, so don't over mix.
Bake in a preheated oven at 450 for 30 mins.
Don't peek, because if you open the oven door, they will fall flat.
When they're done, take them out to cool and pierce with a sharp knife to release the steam.
Serve with butter, mmm, or jam, or honey butter, or cashew butter, or orange marmalade, or road tar. They are that good.
Have I mentioned before how I have great friends? Well, I do. And in the midst of the hard times I've been going through, I received a little package. Inside was a bracelet, note and a poem from a sweet friend of mine. She makes and sells these bracelets, all made for special occasions and special purposes. Please visit her site here and let her know how much her words mean to you.
The bracelet and poem she sent for me aren't on the website, so I'll write it out here, I hope she doesn't mind.
My sister Troy married his lovely wife, and our now adopted other sister Kelli on this day in 1995. Wow. The 90's. How very 90's.
Good choice, Troy.
This week's fun for Friday might not seem fun to you, but it was for me.
Last night was our Temple night. As I sat in the waiting room alone, reading and crying, surprise surprise, a woman walked by the doorway. I vaguely saw her out of the corner of my eye. I did notice, however, that she stopped and backed up to look at me through the doorway.
Of course I looked up, and to my amazement, it was a good friend. Not the kind of good friend you recognize from High School or College, or even from the YMCA, it was a good friend from the blogosphere.
A woman I had never met in person, but whom I feel I know personally. And of all places to meet, at the Temple. I felt it was very appropriate.
She is as sweet and wonderful in person as she is on her blog, a nice surprise indeed.
So that, my friends is what makes today fun.
Happy Friday!
Sugar Daddy loves his meat loaf. And I've learned to make it just the way he likes it. But last time I made it, he was bragging about it at work, and someone told him they stuff theirs with Mozzarella cheese. Of course, Sugar Daddy can't turn down anything cheese-stuffed, so I had to try it.
Behold, the slice of cheese stuffed meat loaf. It really was quite good, although a little cheesy for my taste. But then again, I'm not a loaf of many things lover. Bread, of course, but not of the meat variety.
And the Meat Twinkie in it's natural habitat. Next time I'll probably just cut up chunks of Mozzarella cheese and insert them into the already formed loaf, as it is quite tricky to "stuff" it. It was more like "shove it in there until it stays put". I'm sure Rachael Ray has a better way.
People. Can I have your attention please?
Now, we all know that I have been going through an extremely, uh, bumpy patch the last few weeks, right? Right. Okay. Well, it has lightened enough that I can now function semi-normally. I'm sure this has nothing to do with the meds, and everything to do with the fact that my MIL has sworn on her life that she will indeed call me every.single.night until I am better. It's working. Don't take that like I don't like her calling or that I don't like her in general. I love my MIL. I love love love her to death. I think sometimes I married SugarDaddy just so she could be my MIL.
Well, after our trip to the Dells, I started feeling kinda funny. Not "Ha ha" funny like normal, that is still wwwaaaayyy off down the recovery road, but funny like my skin kinda itched and tickled, but I couldn't put my finger on it exactly.
Sunday night, enter the rash of doom. Covered. Head to toe. Itched like a mad hoss too. But then it went away, and all was better in Keliland.
Monday arrives, and arms, owie. Upper arm, left side, major owie. And bumps. And pus. And eeewww! I start popping Benadryl like candy, but no relief. It was then I knew what it was.
So I head to the doc, and then to the pharmacy, wherein they fill my brand new RX for Valtrex.
Go on, click the link. Before I go on, and to make this post that much funnier, click the dang link.
Clicked? Okay.
Turns out there's a new herpes in town. Valtrex treats my kind of herpes as well as the genital kind, so don't go getting no idears or anything.
Shingles. Good for roofing, bad for people.
Happy St. Paddy's Day!
Today I'm getting my green on by making a delish dinner of corned beef and cabbage. Hopefully all will turn out well.
So go get some green on, or don't be surprised when a stranger pinches you on the tushie.
I am the proud new owner of a new nephew. Head over here and check him out. He's a cutie.
This last weekend we decided we needed a change of scenery. I myself needed a change in a bad way. So at the last minute, we rented a condo and headed up to the Wisconsin Dells. For those of you not in the know, The Dells, as the locals call it, is home to the most and biggest indoor water parks in the world. Or as I like to say, "The Dells, a way to stay pasty white all year 'round!"
Wisconsin is only a 10 minute drive from our house, but The Dells is just over 2 hours. And let me tell you, that extra 1 hour and 50 minutes makes a huge heck of a difference when it comes to the weather. They still had about 2 feet of snow on the ground in places! The lakes were still frozen! But people (us) were walking around in wet clothes to and from the car to get to the water park.
Here is the condo we rented. Literally at the last minute. We were just going to start driving and decide where to stay when we got there, but the nice owner called us back and squeezed us in. She was so embarrassed because there were still dishes washing in the dishwasher. I told her I could live with that, and so she said it was fine. We were expecting something kind of ghetto, especially for the price we paid. But I figured as long as it had a bed and a kitchen, we'd be fine for 2 nights.
As you can see, it was much more than just a bed and a kitchen. It was gorgeous! 3 bedrooms, 2 1/2 baths, TV's and DVD players in every room, and most of all 2 balconies, one of which had a hot tub. I always want to sing the Eddie Murphy SNL skit of "Hot Tub" whenever I say that. The hot tub was a hit. The girls, even Maggie, would have been content to sit in there all day. It had a radio, a light show, and even a waterfall! Who needs tickets to a water park when you have a lighted rockin out hot tub all to yourself?
Here is Maggie. I think this shot shows her having the most fun of the day. My Maggie is afraid of everything. And water parks are probably right up there with being picked up, and getting dirty. We did force her on a couple of slides, one of which was a family slide. She screamed her guts out the whole time, but the second time, she didn't scream quite so much. Even the lazy river was a little too much for her to handle.
Here's Gretta intent on finishing her Kool-Aid. This kid is exactly the opposite of Maggie when it comes to adventure. She was going down slides, swimming around the baby pool, and begging to go on the family slide. Even in the lazy river, she didn't want me to hold her on my lap in the tube, she wanted to hang on to the handle and dangle over the side so she could float. No life jacket, no floaties, just good old fashioned water lover in that kid. Like her mother.
Here's Emma in front of one of the kiddie play lands. She was perfectly content to do her own thing most of the day. She climbed the stairs, went down the slides, and put that on repeat. She and I decided we wanted to go down the "toilet bowl" slide. It's the kind where you shoot through a steep dark tunnel, and then it spits you out into a toilet bowl looking thing, wherein you fall out through a hole in the bottom. It was scary, but she said she'd do it if I bought her some watershoes. Deal. She bonked her leg pretty hard, got lots of water up her nose, and vowed never to do it again. I concurred, and we went to the gift shop for the shoes.
One sad thing about where we stayed, is that it used to be lake front property. Last year the dam broke, and the water rushed down the Wisconsin River. They have fixed the damn dam, and Lake Delton is currently filling. I'm sure by next year it will be lake front again. Not that we cared, since it was a frozen piece of dam ice anyway. But I'm thinking next summer, condo rental, kayak in tow, and maybe a far away family member or two. Perfect.
Friday Fun shows an evolution of a Shih-Tzu when Sugar Daddy gets a hold of clippers and a wild hair up his butt.
Before. Fuzzy, unable to see where she was going, but warm.
Mid-cutting. I could have spun that fur into thread and sewn something from it, I'm sure. Maybe Shih-Tzu's are more practical than Alpaca's.
After. One.Very.Naked.Dog.
If you have a girl in your life, and you want her to look pretty, head over here, and enter the giveaway I have going on in my other shop. Trust me, it's worth it.
And if you don't win, you can still buy some. 4 clippies for $5. $5, people. Even in this crappy economy you have to admit that's a pretty killer deal.
And as a heads up, keep checking often, because we have some wicked cute onesies coming out any day now. We're talking wickedly wicked cute. Boy and girl. I'm just sayin', it's worth a click every day or so.
I have good friends.
No, I have great friends.
While in the midst of this horrible depression, I was on the receiving end of several selfless deeds by said friends.
First, Dubya took my kids all day on Monday so I could run several errands. One of which was getting my windshield fixed, which would have been a complete nightmare had I been toting 3 kids around with me. Thank you, Dubya.
Next, J-Lo, being the sweet heart she is, stopped by one evening, just to see how I was, and to drop off a lovely potted tulip plant. All it took was a hug and asking how I was doing, and the tears that flowed pretty much said it all. Thanks, J-Lo.
Neighbor Kate was Saint Neighbor Kate yesterday when she popped her head in at 9:00 AM and practically shoved me out of the house, telling me to go do something fun. So I did. Hair cut, brows waxed, and a trip to the library, I was feeling much better. But she wasn't done yet.
After a noon-time phone call, J-Lo and Laurisa whisked me off to a fun lunch at Chili's. We ate and chatted, I cried, no surprise there, but I felt much better.
After I arrived home, Saint Kate had been alone with 4 children all day. And she wasn't even frazzled. She was my savior.
So thank you, dear friends. You have made a significant dent in my downer mood. I am feeling better. I even went to bed last night without a pill, and slept most of the night. That is a big step.
So today I'm just working on recovering from the dentist trip last night. More about that later.
As neighbor Kate and I sat at our craft show, not selling anything, we were discussing getting new clothes. I have this little problem as of late, where my jeans seem to be hanging off me. I'm not complaining, by the way. But I'm not a perfect size 6 like she is, so I was telling her how hard it is for us "full figured gals" to find good fitting jeans. I had previously told her that one of my favorite stores is Torrid. I call it the - and you have to say it fast to make it sound better - "fat chick hoochie mama store". See? Funny, huh? They have sizes right up my alley. And when I go there, I can buy their smallest size, which is a huge self esteem boost for me.
They have all sorts of clothes. Modern and classic, trendy and slutty, basics and accessories. Shoes, too, but I don't have fat feet, only a fat middle, so I can't wear their shoes.
Anyway, Kate proceeds to tell me to head on over to Morbid to get me some new jeans. Of course this strikes me as totally hilarious, because I had never realized how closed Torrid and Morbid sound. And when I hear Morbid, I think Morbidly obese. I wonder if their Think Tank thought of that? Probably did, and thought us fat chicks wouldn't be so quick. But leave it to the skinny girls to point it out.
So today I'm off to Morbid to find some new jeans. Wish me luck.
The other day, Gretta woke up from her nap and she was soaked. Sometimes this happens when she falls asleep in the car, and I can actually move her into her crib without her awakening. The problem with this is that the diaper she is wearing usually needs changing, but no way in Heck am I tempting nap fate with that one. It's just a risk I'm willing to take.
So she's wet. I change her, and her crib sheets, and the zillion blankets inside it. She likes it when they're all clean, she says they have a "rate mell", translated that means great smell. And they do. I love Bounty.
Fast forward to that night. Time for bed. Jammies on, prayers said, tucking in has commenced. Problem. No crib sheet. Or zillion blankets. Still in the washer. Hmmm. So I get this crazy idea to tell Gretta her crib is broken. She has to sleep in the bunk bed. Bottom, of course, what kind of mother do you think I am? She agrees, I tuck her in, give her a book, an extra pillow, a little blankie, and her glow worm.
I leave the room fully expecting her to return to the balcony asking for her crib. A few minutes pass, and nothing. Hmm. I settle in to watch some DVR'd shows, thinking certainly as soon as the plot gets good, she would poke her head out. Nothing. So and entire show goes by, and still not a peep. I see this as two things. Very good, as in she is sound asleep, and happily making the transition to a big bed, or very bad as in she has found the lotion and is becoming Degas on the walls as we speak.
So up the stairs I stalk. Quietly quietly. This girl is the lightest sleeper in the world. I open her door ever so slowly, expecting a whiff of lotion or wipes or anything naughty kids would find to occupy their time. Nothing. I peek around the corner of the bunks, and sure enough, there lies Gretta, snug as a bug in a rug. Sound alseep. In a big bed. It was a miracle.
So for three nights now, her crib has been "broken", and she is fine with sleeping in the big bed. I worrry a little because there aren't any railings holding her in, but she hasn't fallen out yet. And even if she does, it's only a few inches to the ground, so I doubt she'd really care. Now the discussion. Do we take apart the crib? Or find another body to fill it?
On a different note, let me just tell you. I am in the midst of the worst depression I've ever experienced. I cannot for the life of me get above it. I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. I had to say the opening prayer at church yesterday, and I completely sobbed through the whole thing. The opening prayer, people. It went pretty much downhill from there for the rest of the day. We bailed out of church and decided to take a drive into Wisconsin to see if I could relax and compose myself. I cried for 3 hours. I am on new meds, and even a supplement of a relaxant, but still, there are times when even the simplest of tasks seems overwhelming. My kids think (know?) I'm crazy, and they're tired of me always yelling at them or crying for no reason.
I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe I just need to get it off my chest. Maybe I just need to have another pity party. But this isn't really a pity party. It's more than even Post Partum Depression. It's more than anything I've ever felt. Someone actually told me it's because of the time change. Yeah, genius, I'm sure I've been depressed for weeks because of the time change. Idiot. Maybe I just need some advice on how to get over it. I've turned to many sources. Friends, prayer, prayer, prayer, and even had a friend over last night for a priesthood blessing. I just don't know what else to do. When will I finally learn the lesson I've been given?
Whatever it is, I know big girls aren't supposed to cry.
This weeks entry comes from Ken, of Michelle and Ken. He has some pretty funny stories from his various rotations throughout medical school. We were discussing funny names one night, and he came up with this one. He wrote it out and asked if any of us could figure out how to pronounce it.
Just so you know, I failed miserably. But you should totally try.
Here it is.
The other day I made a killer lasagna. My trick? Rinse the cottage cheese, then drain it through a tea towel to make it nice and crumbly. Then add it to the Ricotta, with a beaten egg and some Parmesan. Delish.
But it was killer in another way, as well.
You see, I like to eat leftovers for lunch, and I was so excited to have a slice of this tasty cheesy treat yesterday. I microed it, covered in a paper towel of course, and then let it sit in the microwave while I patiently waited for it to reach eatable temperature. When it was time, I whipped open the door to the microwave, reached in to retrieve my noodley yumminess, when the microwave door decides it wants to fight back. It came swinging back to the closed position, which it would have achieved, had my eye not been directly in the spot where the hook latches it closed.
I took it right to the edge of my ocular. I swore, sorry Mom, and instantly thought I was going to be blind. I rushed to the sink, fearing a blood storm, grabbed a towel to stop the flow, when I realized something. Nothing. Nothing at all. No blood. No eye juice. No nothing at all. At first I was little miffed, because I was expecting something great after all that pain. Then I was relieved that I wasn't blinded. Then I was fully expecting to see a great big bruise that I could pass off as my battered wife wound.
Still, nothing. Don't get me wrong. It hurts like Hell. I can't even squint my eye without a stinging sensation permeating my face and eye ball. But there isn't even a mark where the stupid thing hit me! Not a mark! I have acne scars more noticeable than this thing.
I'm such a wuss. But hopefully in a day or two it will bruise up nicely so I can play the battered wife card and get some sympathy.
Gretta received a package in the mail the other day. She was instantly in heaven. Although, after seeing what was in the package, I think Maggie was just as thrilled.
All the girls showing off together.
And here it is. The ultimate dress up dress. Aunt Kelli and Aunt Troy are the best. They know exactly what will get Gretta going. She carried it around for a good 10 minutes before Maggie finally forced her to put it on. Otherwise, Maggie would have worn it herself. Of course, once she had it on, there was no taking it off. Even for bed. But that's just fine with me.
An action shot of the opening ceremony. Even Bebe got in on the action. She's that big mess of fur to the right.
I can't get a grip today. There will be lots of tears today. I can tell when it starts out first thing in the morning that things are just going to go downhill, and fast.
It started last night. I had just settled in for a nice book and a warm blanket, when Sean came calling me downstairs for a surprise. Of course I couldn't resist, so I marched down there with much anticipation. I had received a letter! I love mail. Inside this letter, was a simple bracelet. It immediately sent me over the edge.
It was my mom's. It has a "P" and a bee on it. She used to wear it all the time. Meg is so sweet to think of me, and knows how much I need to feel close to her. So this meant crying myself to sleep last night. Not an unusual occurrence. But it's the waking up with tears flowing that makes the days hard. There just isn't much that can get me up out of this funk on a day like today. Better to just stay inside and not have to face the world.
Have I mentioned I hate being a grown up? Some days I think I can't deal with it all. I think it's just too much to handle. I hate all the hard decisions, and the despair that comes along with being grown up. Things seemed so much simpler before. Before what? I couldn't exactly say. Before I moved away, probably. Before she died, certainly. You know my first reaction after the strep diagnosis yesterday was to pick up the phone and call my mom. I knew exactly what she would say. I could practically hear the sympathy in her voice. There is no one to call that can take that place.
People my age shouldn't be dealing with the loss of a parent. Especially the loss of a parent in such a manner as hers. I know I'm not the only one that has had to do it, but some days it feels like I am.
Sorry for the pity party. It's just one of those days.
My kid has strep. Again. This is like the bajillionth time in the last year and a half or so. I'm really really really tired of 10 day antibiotics. I'm also tired of her screaming through a penicillin shot, and then doing 10 days of antibiotics on top of that. I'm hoping she'll be getting her tonsils out within the year. But we'll see.
So, on that note, I'll be back tomorrow with something good. Not great, but probably not that good either, so don't hold your breath.
On a completely unrelated note, my feet are muy stinky.
