Friday, January 28, 2011

Posting the dirty laundry.

If you are ever unsure what exactly you are in charge of in your household, go ahead and get sick 3 days before  your grandma's funeral.  Of course if you happen to live in that blissful world of By Yourself, AKA the leftover mac n cheese is STILL there when you want it, and it only gets messy after you just cleaned it because you went ahead and messed it right back up yourself, well, you have the luxury of knowing you're pretty much large and in charge of all of it.  However, if you are me, and in charge of a bustling household that includes teenagers, it can get a little murky.  Because I delude myself that some of them are in charge of stuff.

Since I really needed to be well by tomorrow, I did what you do when you need to get better right now.  I loaded up on the cold medicine, and crawled in my bed.  And stayed there for about 2 entire days.

This is what happens when nobody is nagging reminding them about their chores...


Do you SEE the hot flat iron on top of the towel???  Teenage daughter alert.

Of course I'm not putting anything away either...


No, I didn't take all of this medicine at the same time.  I would have felt better.  And yes, that IS exactly how my bathroom counter looks right now.  Sorry FlyLady.

Paperwork piles up, To Do Lists go unchecked off...and that is a PAINTBALL gun leaning on the chair, so don't freak out like the Verizon guy did when we had FIOS installed last spring.


And I pile stuff up on my unmade bed.  The Kohl's bag is due to the fact that my 13 year old son is HUGE, and has outgrown everything with a collar that he owns, and is bigger than his almost 16 year old cousin AND his dad.  The kid should play football.  So I had to dress myself in something other than pajamas, wear a hat on my 2 day hair, and haul us on out to the local shopping center so the boy could be properly clothed tomorrow.
And lastly, laundry is left half-done.  (Say hi to Einstein!)


Or goes completely UNdone.  I like to call it Mt. Washmore.


So there you have it.  I am in charge of bossing people around.  I spared you the animal chores...the cat box is a whole other kind of nightmare.  But I love 'em.  And wish somebody had bossed me a little more when I was kid.  Not as a kid, but now, as an adult...I think that's the cold medicine talking.


Happy Weekend!
~S


P.S.  What does it mean that the first time I figured out how to post photos I chose to put up our dirty laundry?  Literally?

Monday, January 24, 2011

It's an Amish love story. Or 3.

It's 7:24pm and we've all just about survived another Monday.

So then...Good Monday!

I think you really have to evaluate Mondays post delivery.  They can turn on you.   I should probably be knocking on wood somewhere about now, right?  Don't count your chickens before they hatch and all that.  Did I just dare a Monday to go bad?  With midnight still a few hours off?  I'll be hiding under my desk, sitting cross legged, head covered.  Just they way they taught us during our 1970's elementary school earthquake drills.  If it was good enough to handle The Big Bad Granddaddy of All Faults, The San Andreas, I figure it must be good for a few more things. 

So I have been 'without book', as I call it, since just before Christmas.  Which, for a compulsive reader like me, is a bit like being an alcoholic in Betty Ford.  I'm jonesin'.  About to drink the perfume.  It was about to get real ugly. 

Yes,  The Jungle Diet (about the indigenous diets of the world's cold spots for things like heart disease, cancer etc.), my photography class book, The New Joy of Digital Photography, and 7 magazines are currently living on my nightstand.  But no, they do not count.  They are not what I want to read before I conk out at night   A 'book' is a fictional novel.  Preferably one that involves a bit of heart, a little excitement, and, when I'm really getting my way, comic relief that makes me snicker out loud.  Even if I happen to be reading in line at the bank.  Which I don't have to anymore because we switched to a much nicer one with awesome customer service.

But tomorrow I am picking up something I've never read before.  Amish fiction.  Did you know it existed?!  I am stoked!  (Yes, I know I'm flying my freak flag here.  It's okay.)  My friend Raquel, who is a Real Author, and who encouraged me to get off my lazy duff and write something again (Hi Raquel!), is loaning me an Amish love story novel.  It's actually a collection of 3 novellas.  She said they are good!  I think she was even a bit surprised about that.  I think I'm even more surprised that I'm going to be reading Amish fiction.

Goodnight Monday!
Getting under my desk and covering my head now...just in case.
~Sherri

Friday, January 21, 2011

Caught! (Not me silly, I'm MUCH smarter than that.)

Happy, happy, happy, spectacular, Friday!

Spectacular is my new word.  I'm working it into everything. 

Today is my new best friend.  Call me focused.  My priorities are clear and I'm carefully guarding them.  That's why I'm killing my spare 10 minutes on my blog, right?

So in answer to all the pitiful questions I asked yesterday, here are the answers.  (I know you haven't really been gnawing at your nails wondering, but when I look back in time, I'll want, no, need to know what I did.)

Used the new shampoo and have given the remnants of the old bottle to the dogs.  I will be bathing them in it this afternoon.  There is nothin' like Big Sexy Hair on a beagle.

It seems we will indeed be attending the funeral in all our shaggy haired glory and I'm okay with that.

And yeah, I'm definitely too old to say 'weak sauce'.  Besides, if it's crept into my vernacular, you can be pretty sure I'm the only one still saying it.  

We hit our 3 R's yesterday (thanks Shelley!) and moved on.  It's what we're doing today too.  The sun is out and it's Friday.  You really think I'm hauling out the big scary chemistry set today?  I have dogs in need of Big Sexy Hair.

Last night was one of those funny nights when dinner was on the fly and late.  So we did what all good suburban Americans do, we decided to eat in the living room and watch TV.  Turns out that gem of a DVR (one of my favorite all time inventions right up there with caller ID and my Kitchen Aid mixer)  had recorded this week's Modern Family.

Have you seen this show?  Laugh out loud funny all the time.  It doesn't miss.  But this week's...over and above the call of comedic duty.  TV guide cliff notes...the kids walk in on Phil and Claire. And, of course, everyone else has their storylines.  Yup.  That's what we watched over those toasted turkey subs I whipped up.  So hilarious if your the parent.  And apparently, if your the teenaged daughter, embarrassing enough to cause you to vacate the room.

For the rest of the night. 


Gut busting, side splitting, snort OUT LOUD, tear inducing laughter for the whole half hour.

Watch it, record it, ABC.com it, I don't care.  Just do it!  Because if the entire world laughed as hard as we all did last night, it would be a happier place.

Happy Football Watching this weekend!  (Make the bean dip.)
~Sherri

Thursday, January 20, 2011

A List, a Quandary and Some Bean Dip.

First off The List, so I can clear my head. 

It's that kind of morning for me.  Too many things whirring around the skating rink of my mind.  As you will see these are not the sort of things meant for deep reflection.  Trust me.  (And feel free to skip on down the Caliente Bean Dip recipe below.  I wouldn't blame you.)  I just can't focus.

1.  I have been knocking over liquid filled vessels a lot lately and it has really got to stop.  I just mopped up a huge amount of soapy water from my bathroom floor with my bathmat.  At least I can call the floor clean now...right?

2.  I bought some really good smelling shampoo and conditioner yesterday.  I really want to use it right now as opposed to using up the last bit of the perfectly nice smelling shampoo and conditioner  that is currently residing in my shower.  A deep, soul revealing battle is being fought between the resourceful, bargain shopping, side of me and the what-if-I-get-hit-by-a-bus-today-and-never-get-to-use-my-new-shampoo side of me.  It's a personality flaw.

3.  If I remember I'll let you know who won later.

4.  I am a sucker for packaging.  Which means if you take a mediocre wine and put it in a bottle with a fabulous label (Mad Housewife wine anyone?), I will buy it.  Over and over.

5.  Our hairdresser (hair stylist?) (hi Janna!) had her baby 3 weeks early in December.  Right before we were all supposed to get our hair cut.  Which means my hair, and the kids' hair is all pretty shaggy and will remain so until February.  Can we really go to my grandma's funeral in shaggy hair?

6.  It's a gorgeous, why people fork out big money for tiny houses and even less property, sort of Southern California day.  And I have too much inside work to do to be out and about in it.  I hate that.

7.  I'm 2 weeks into my photography class which I am hoping will mean soon I will be able to figure out how to link photos to my blog.  I know weak sauce writing coupled with amateur photos.  I'll understand.  Am I too old to say weak sauce?

8.  I'm pretty sure computers, and electronics in general, are punishment for dating the athletes in high school instead of the smart dudes.

9.  It's Football Playoff Season and this bean dip is the be all and end all of bean dips.  Forget that cold 7-layered thing we've all been passing around since the 90's.  Make THIS one and you'll see what I'm talking about.

Caliente Bean Dip (I just renamed it that, because it's original moniker Warm Bean Dip is bor-ing!)

1 can Fritos Hot Bean Dip (it's usually in the chip aisle, don't go with plain standard Fritos Bean Dip.  Bland. Blech. Just don't. I did by accident once and I'm deeply scarred.)
4 oz. (1/2 a block) of cream cheese, softened (You can do this in the microwave.  Just take it out of the foil wrapper - foil catches on fire in the microwave, don't ask, just trust - put it in a bowl, and zap it for 15 seconds or so, until it's soft.)
1/2 cup sour cream
BTW there is nothing healthy about this recipe.
1 Tablespoon taco seasoning mix
1 garlic clove - pressed
1/2 cup cheddar cheese, shredded (Colby Jack is really good too. In fact, it's probably my favorite, but mostly I have cheddar on hand.)
The rest of these are optional, I like it with everything.  Some of the younger males in the household prefer that I stop at the cheese.  So make 2 like I do.  Don't worry, it will get eaten in short order.
1 tomato - seeded and diced
1 small can sliced black olives
1 Tablespoon chopped cilantro (mmmm, I love cilantro.)
1 avocado - diced

Preheat oven to 350 F.
Spread the bean dip in an 8" square baking dish (or something similar).
Combine the sour cream, cream cheese, taco mix and garlic.  Spread the mixture over the bean dip.
Top with the cheddar cheese.
Bake 15 to 20 minutes until it's all melty and bubbly and delicious looking.
Live with abandon and top with the some or all of the optional ingredients.  Or, if you live with younger male children types who don't eat things like tomatoes, olives or anything green for that matter, like I do, top it with none.

Serve with tortilla chips and devour.  But you probably already knew that.

Oh, and you can make this ahead of the game, take it with you to friend's houses who don't mind if you make yourself at home with their oven, that sort of thing.


The Quandary

I homeschool our 2 boys.  We do this for many reasons, but mostly so we can do it our way, be flexible and hopefully produce curious, involved, solid citizens.  I started using a charter school to homeschool with a few years ago when I realized a) those are my educational tax dollars and b) I could use them for cool things like field trips, karate lessons, elaborate chemistry sets that scare me, an egg incubator to hatch eggs, and electric guitar lessons.  So today my quandary is this...my boys are  mildly sick with a head cold. It's a beautiful day.  I have a lot of non-school related stuff to do.  Every ounce of independent homeschooling mom in me is screaming out to cut to the chase, do our 3 R's (Readin', wRitin', aRithmetic) and call it done.  Let them rest and soak up some fresh air and sun.  The responsible, has to report to the charter school guilty conscience me, wants me to catch up on our science...

I still don't know.

Keepin' it real today,
~S

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Ba ha ha ha! Wish I'd would have known!

Desperately. Seeking. Dessert.  That was me last night.  Which was weird, because I am the one who routinely forgets all about dessert unless it's a holiday or birthday.  An Event, in other words, that screams out 'Hey, don't forget the dessert!'  When I crave things they are salty, crunchy and spicy.  Or smooth, creamy and cheesy. Except when I was pregnant the first time around and I craved, and I mean C.R.A.V.E.D. devil's food donuts with nuts.  I had to have them.  I'd like to think it's why I gained 50 pounds.  Except that I did that with the boys too.  I don't know.  Yes, by the way, I am quite sure I am not preggers.  And if I was?  I'd be having a very long, very serious, very dangerous for him, kind of discussion with my husband's doctor.

So last night (while I was still craving dessert) there was a mini discussion about drive-thru ATM behavior on fb.  Which was mostly about not being lame and slow, which I am because I am short and can not reach anything out of my car window.  That is until (dum da dum dum dummmm) The Bank Manager Mike chimed in.  Apparently there are approximately 4, yes FOUR, cameras watching you the entire time you are at the drive-thru ATM. 

He said they'd seen it all.

Immediately, I'm thinking...have I ever picked my nose, adjusted my underwear, picked at my toenails, scratched inappropriately, retrieved crumbs out of my bra (hey, it happens when you're wearing a tank top, okay) or checked to see if my deodorant is working?  Well, duh!  Of course I have!  Where else are you supposed to do those things but in the privacy of your own car?  What, there are windows?  People can see in?  Ohhhhh. I'm definitely going to have to work on that.

Because apparently, these bankers are expecting a show.

Wouldn't it be even better if they were rigged for sound?!

xoxox
~S

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

"It's like a bad halloween costume...

...you can't get out of."  A great line from S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders.  Ponyboy and Johnny are talking about having to cut their hair while they're hiding out.  It makes me think of my own red hair.  Because I used to think of it that way.  It was always going to be red.  And when I got old enough to pay someone to dye my hair, I couldn't find a hairdresser who would do it.  'Do you know how much people PAY for hair your color???' They would ask, shaming me back into submission.  Assuring me that the wannabe's never got it right.  (Which I have to agree, I can spot a bottle redhead...well, you know.  From very far away.  But that's another post.)

Back to The Outsiders.  I would like to thank S.E. Hinton for writing a serious novel for teens.  I would further like to thank Francis Ford Coppola (yes, Sofia's dad and maker of wine, for the youngsters in the crowd) for making a truly good film based on the novel.  It's hard to quantify the effect a book can have on someone and who they become.  I remember this book as the first piece of fiction I picked up in the Children's Section of the Anaheim Public Library, that I thought took me, as a 12 year old, seriously.  A book that thought I had depth, compassion, and the ability to understand the complexities of our society.  Respect is important to a skinny kid that age and there's not much of it that goes around.  Of course I also loved Cherry, the smokin' hot redheaded girl in the book.  She gave me hope that someday I wouldn't be the gangly, skinny, freckled, redhead with gorgeous friends.

My 2 boys are watching the film right now.  It stands the test of time.  My oldest read the novel as part of his Literature unit, and actually didn't mind.  My youngest will be reading it in a couple of years.  A good piece of literature is like that.  So is a good film.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I hear they're casting a film version of The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger.  I really, really, really hope they do it justice.  Because I remember getting that, and several other banned-at-the-time, books for Christmas when I was in 7th grade.  It was amazing.  Sometimes my parents really rocked their hippie ideals.  For which I am grateful every day.  It's why I don't mind rocking the boat in my small corner of the world.  Sometimes it's just necessary.  Maturity, I've learned the hard way, is knowing when it's necessary.

~S

Friday, January 14, 2011

what about bob and coco?

Friday has come, bright, shiny, with a side of warm and breezy.  Pandora was in the same mood on my morning walk, so yes, Mick Jagger, you do sometimes get what you want. THANK YOU!  I got to have coffee with one of my dearest friends this morning.  We spent 2 hours catching up and catching our breath.  She's a lifeline when things are going wrong getting complicated and I need to remember it does all work itself out.  Thanks for reminding me Shelley!  You are truly a blessing in my life.

Can someone please explain what it is that draws me to Bob Ritchie?  His life and style, nothing like mine.  Nor would I want it to be.  And honey, if you're reading, NO this is not some round about way of telling you I want you to start smoking cigars, grow some long stringy hair, and ride a Harley with handle bars that are too tall.  I think you are my perfect other half just as you are!!!  But dirty secret #99 is my crush on Bob and his music.  What is it about the Bob factor that works?  I don't have a clue.  I just know it does.  Maybe Sheryl Crow does too.  She keeps singing songs with him.

While I was out walking my dogs this morning, enjoying the breeze, I spied Chanel's 2 interlocked C's gracing the back window of a small, sporty Mazda, in the form of a hot pink sticker.  I couldn't help but wonder...what would Coco think about that?  She was a trailblazing, pioneer in the fashion world, designing and wearing pants long before it was socially acceptable.  So would she approve of something once old being adopted and made young again?  Or would it rub against her natural elegance and style?  I don't know.  But I spent a good 3 houses wondering.

As you might know, my grandma passed away Wednesday night.  She really was an extraordinary woman when I think of all she managed.  Her oldest is my dad, and her youngest is only 6 weeks older than I am.  There are 3 in between the two of them, one of whom fell from a roof at 14, leaving him a quadriplegic.  So while I didn't get to spend weekends hanging out with her I always knew she loved me.  When I had 3 little kids 4 and under, she was the one who simply assured me that it was okay to be busy with your own kids.  It was just the way it worked.  And if there were people who couldn't understand, well, that was their problem not mine.  I can't tell you how many times I rested in that as I was again unable to return a call because I simply ran out of civilized hours in the day.  I am grateful she didn't have to suffer through a prolonged painful illness before joining my grandpa in heaven.  I will miss you Grandma!

And the last thing on my mind this morning?  That to me, the perfect, simple breakfast is 2 perfectly soft boiled eggs and a piece of toast.  I'm sure I eat this at least once a week and more in the winter when it's cold.  This is how you make a Perfect Soft Boiled Egg.

Put however many eggs you want in a saucepan and cover them with about 1" of water.  (That means the water is 1" higher than the eggs in the pan, which at one time in my sometimes hilarious cooking life I did not understand.)  Remove the eggs.  You really only have to do this the first time to get an idea of how much water you need in your pan.  Get out a small push pin, the kind you use on your bulletin board. and wash it.  You will use this to prick the bottom of each egg.  The bottom is the more rounded end.  Pricking the egg keeps it from cracking.  I use the same pin over and over.  I keep mine poked onto a wine cork in my cooking utensil drawer.  Bring the water to a boil (I add a dash of salt to make it boil faster).  Gently drop the eggs into the boiling water with a large spoon, and let them boil for exactly 5 minutes.  While they're boiling, grab a bowl and fill it with a few ice cubes and water.  You need some good cold water so your eggs quit cooking right away.  You also want to make your toast and coffee right now so you don't have to eat cold soft boiled eggs.  They're not so good.  When your 5 minute timer goes off remove the eggs with a large slotted spoon and dash them in the cold water.  Which is a fancy way of saying put them in there right away and only cool them long enough to just be able to handle them.  You will want to immediately use a soup spoon to sort of slice off the top 1/3 of the egg and scoop the insides into a mug or bowl. They egg whites should be cooked while the yolk will be a dreamy golden, gooey, yellow.

Put your hands up for a warm and breezy Friday!

xoxo
~S

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

1-2-3 KO sort of day

Sometimes life gets in the way of the best laid plans.  Which is why there was no post yesterday.  Sometimes I need to sip on my Tension Tamer tea and let the day evolve since it seems to have a life force of its own.  And yesterday, rolled just that way.  News comes in 3's right?  So we should be good now.  We're plenty good grappling with yesterdays news, so please, take it easy today.  Just a little, humble request on behalf of this redhead's sanity.  Enough sniveling.

The friend I have had second longest in my entire life (hi Tricia!) had a birthday Sunday.  As usual, I mailed her a little something.  On Monday.  That's right, the day after her birthday.  Every year I resolve that next year I will be early (like she is), and I think I managed once.  I'm a work in progress.  She and I are different, but complimentary.  Her personality is a lot like my husband's and I'm like hers.  We're both happily married people which I think bodes well for our friendship.  We grew up down the street from each other and walked to and from school together from 5th grade until we graduated.  If I had grown up with a sister, I would want her to be my sister!

My fabulous friend has a cold today and so I think her equally fab husband (who happens to cook!) should make her this chicken noodle soup.  I swear it has magical cold germ butt kicking properties.  (This recipe started out as one of Paula Deen's and I'm pretty sure I didn't stray too far from the original.)

3-4 lb. chicken
3 1/2 quarts water
1 onion, peeled
1 teaspoon each of basil, oregano and thyme 
1 teaspoon lemon pepper
3 cloves garlic, crushed
4 bay leaves
3 chicken boullion cubes

Add all these ingredients to a big soup pot and bring to a boil.  Simmer about 40 minutes until the chicken is done.  Remove the chicken, onion and bay leaves.  Throw the onion and bay leaves away.  Leave the broth in your soup pot!  When the chicken is cool enough, take off all the nasty skin, and pull the meat off the bones and chop into bite size pieces.  For the next step you'll need -

2 cups sliced carrots
2 cups sliced celery with the leafy green tops
2 1/2 cups uncooked egg noodles (you can use whatever pasta you like, even whole wheat!)
3 Tablespoons fresh flat leaf parsley
salt and pepper to taste
1/3 cup cooking sherry (optional)
3/4 cup heavy cream (optional)
I don't always use the sherry and cream, but if I want to make a more substantial soup I always use them together.  I don't like to use one without the other flavor-wise, but you might.

Bring your stock back to a boil (there should be about 3 quarts), add the carrots, and cook for 3 minutes.  Add celery and cook for 5 to 10 more minutes.  Add the egg noodles and cook according to the package directions.  When the noodles are done add the chicken, parsley, sherry and cream.  Cook for another 2 minutes and give it a taste.  Add salt and pepper to please your tastebuds.

By the way, if you don't want to throw the bones in the trash because they get disgusting and stinky, do this - put them in an old plastic grocery bag, tie the top good and tight, and put them in your freezer.  Then on trash day, put them out for the trash man!  It's a little trick I learned from my grandma.

Still searching for an easy peaceful feeling,
~S

Monday, January 10, 2011

We call 'em Crapper Lights.

Yes, yes, yes, I KNOW.
Still looks like Christmas around this blog.
(Sorry honey, I know you can't read the red and green on your BlackBerry.  I love you.)
Never fear, I do plan to do something about that tomorrow.
Because tomorrow I have to do some major home school plotting and planning and I will be in desperate need of a time wasting procrastination tool.  And picking out some new colors and designs for my blog feels right. Just telling it like it is.

So...what in sam hill are Crapper Lights???  Well, they're those otherwise known as Christmas Lights that are still up around the exterior of our house.  And no, for those of you who wonder, we have not switched to LED's and yes, I'm sure we're consuming more than our fair share of electricity.  So there.  It's what happens when you gleefully snatched up a house in one of the few remaining neighborhoods that don't have an association.  Someday I want to paint our house pink just because we can.  (The man votes a big N-O on that, in case you were confused.)

And, yup, that's us with the Christmas tree up in the living room.  In our defense, this may be the most amazing, has dropped maybe 10 needles in the entire month we've had it, and is still so green it MUST be growing roots down there in the water base, tree I have ever seen in my life!  I mean the thing still smells like a forest every time I walk by it.  I think it's making up for being a bit stubby and uneven with a couple of big holes we didn't notice, ugliest tree we've ever picked.  Also, I'd like to confess here that I grew up in a family absolutely famous for never taking our tree down on New Year's like the rest of Orange County.  One year my parents left it up through Easter.  Mmmm hmmm, it had been a live tree at one time.  It's a wonder we didn't burn down.  Although I'm pretty sure we weren't turning the lights on anymore.  This is, in fact, an event my childhood friends like to refer to when we are discussing my family's long list of odd behaviors.

But why oh why must we call them Crapper Lights, put up a Crapper Tree, and purchase Crapper gifts?  All instead of the traditional, respectful Christmas, Christmas, Christmas? There is a child in our extended family, who probably wishes to remain anonymous on this one, and who at the tender age of 2ish could not properly pronounce Christmas and for whatever reason, it sounded JUST LIKE CRAPPER.  Most hilarious thing ever to see that cherubic little face, that sweet innocent mouth, talking wistfully all about the Crapper Presents Santa was bringing.  What can I say?  It stuck.  Not in that child's family.  In ours of course.  Because let's face it, we are a bit irreverent at times.  Okay, lots of times.  And we like it that way.

I know I was supposed to cough up my cold curing chicken noodle soup recipe a couple of days ago.  I apologize.  The good news is that it worked and the cold germs were firmly grasped at the elbow and escorted out of the building.  The bad news is we had ourselves a good time all weekend and I pretty much blew it off.  But tomorrow, when I'm chained to this desk anyhow, searching for good, solid, responsible reasons for not submitting detailed science supply orders for our Chemistry unit, I will quite ecstatically type up the chicken soup goods.

Off to admire the lights on my Crapper Tree,
~S

Friday, January 7, 2011

scattergories

I am hitting the Airborne today.  I feel a cold comin' on and I am not surrendering.  Vitamin C, tea, rest, home made chicken noodle soup - these are my chosen weapons.  Wish me luck!

Last night I watched the funniest thing I have seen in a long time.  And it was all by accident. Or fate.  However you choose to go about things.  One of those beautiful moments in time that are just a gift.  We had gone sledding, in our local mountains, yesterday and were good and tired when we got home. So I heated up some spiced apple cider and plopped down on the sofa, remote in hand.  Veering quickly away from MTV2 that the box was left on, I landed upon Sarah Palin's Alaska show.  I knew of it, but had never watched.  The woman grated on my last nerve during the election.  But in the instant I stopped there was Kate Gosselin on Sarah's little wilderness show.  In the rain, camping, crabbing up a storm.  And there was Sarah, rolling her eyes about it all.  Oh my.  I couldn't help myself.  So help me, it was unintentionally, wholly, absorbingly hilarious.  It helps that I'm not a big Kate fan either.  Didn't watch when she had John, and don't watch whatever she's doing now.  But there is something to be said for her I suppose, that ol' Kate wound up in our collective consciousness.  Even my boys know who she is.  So anyhow, that's what precipitated my cold.  That and hanging out with a couple people who have colds.  I'm sure that had absolutely nothing to do with it.  Nothing.

Our local, national chain grocery store, Albertsons, is closing down either this month or next.  It is right around the corner from us and the first major intersection.  I read about it on facebook last night.  And got a phone call from my sister-in-law who heard it from a friend, who, heard it from a friend who, heard from another you've been messing around.  Sorry, a little 1982 REO Speedwagon flashback.  It's the cold taking over.  This is big news right here in River City.  We still have our little Stater Bros. and the Target Super Store and actually there's another, newer, prettier, Albertsons just up the freeway one exit.  Which I'm sure is what killed ours.  The thing I mourn the most, however, is the little Starbucks that is inside our Albertsons.  Now I will have to travel for a latte.  Or learn to make them at home.  Which is what I'll probably do.  Because then I have one less reason to venture out. See, silver lining in absolutely everything!

Anyhow, in case you have been sledding or doing something else that is outside and cold, make this apple cider.  It will warm your very being.  BTW it's an Emeril baby, so he of course advises adding rum, which I usually don't, but I might today.  Because I have a cold.  Yeah, that's it.  Did I just admit I have a cold.  Out loud?!  You probably have most of this stuff in your house already...

1 apple
2 teaspoons whole cloves
1 orange, thinly sliced
2 quarts apple cider (that's 1/2 gallon if you have a cold like I do and can't think.  Quality makes a difference here, so if you can get your hands on some good unfiltered stuff, it's worth it!)
1/2 cup brown sugar (Emeril says light, I always only have dark in the house so I use that.)
pinch of grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon allspice (so I'm not sure if he meant ground or whole, I use ground, but it does tend to end up at the bottom of your pot.)
1 cup dark rum
cinnamon sticks for garnish (roll your eyes here, Martha Stewart I'm not.)

Stud the apple with cloves.  Just do it.  It's easy and looks kinda cool.
In a medium pot, combine the studded apple and everything else EXCEPT the rum.  Over low heat, slowly bring it to a simmer and let it simmer for 10 minutes.  Remove it from the heat.  (WHY do recipes always say that?  Do we really not know to turn the burner off once the cooking time is over??  Maybe they need to add Home Ec. back to the required courses for junior high.)

If you have a cold and are NOT sharing with children, this is where you would add the cup of rum.  But that's a lot of cider (and rum) for one person.  And I'm usually sharing with the kids.  So you know, I'm sure you could splash a little in the bottom of your mug if it makes your skirt fly up.  And you have a cold.

And if you're feeling a little Martha you could always garnish with a cinnamon stick.  Snickering.

I'm off to buy some kleenex with lotion...some Vicks, I seriously am addicted to this stuff when I have a cold...ask my husband because he has to put up with the eau de Vicks I'll be wearing this evening when he comes home...and some stuff to make soup.  I'll give you that recipe tomorrow.  Because I'm going to feel better tomorrow.

~S

P.S.  Yes, I know it still looks like Christmas.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Tight Around the Collar

I live in a small town.
I grew up in a largish suburb.
I like very much that wherever my kids go, it's likely some other adult type person I know (and like) is there too.
Which means I get a constant stream of information about what my kids are up to when I'm not with them.
I find this comforting in a Big Brother sort of way.
Since I am the Big Brother.
I, however, very much prefer my anonymity.
These two contradictory truths are not really compatible unless I never leave my house.
Which would be okay with me.
I never knew how much of a homebody I was until I created a happy home of my own.
Grocery home delivery is one of my favorite things from the '90's that didn't seem to make a big splash in the new millennium.  Homegrocer.com anyone?

This is the last week of our Christmas Break from school.  I live in a conservative small town, so we do still call it a Christmas Break as opposed to a Winter Break.  Since we're Christmas celebrators it doesn't bother me.  I'm not sure how I'd feel if we weren't .  I imagine it might bug me.

Well, because it's our last week, and because we were all bored out of our minds, I voluntarily left the house, to do something fun.  Like lunch and bowling.  And we did have ourselves a mighty good time.  They bowled and I embarrassed them by hootin' and hollerin' - their own personal cheering section.  And then....we spotted someone we try to, uh, avoid, in our little town.  I know that doesn't sound nice, but there it is just the same.  I don't know what to do about it, but it sure reminds me of junior high.  Anyhow, since we were done with our 3 games, we just studied the tacky art on the opposite wall of the bowling alley, managed to walk by unnoticed, and hightailed it out of there.  But the fear.  The agony.  The big What If.  As in...What If they had been assigned the lane next to us...and I had been forced to be nice?  Not saying what was really on my mind? That takes a lot of energy.  And I think we've more than covered my lazy streak in the last couple of weeks.

As if that wasn't enough, we proceeded to see 2 more people at the grocery store.  One...a nice neighbor and friend, a quick hello, reminding me what I like about residing in our tiny little corner of the world.  But then...Somebody Else.  Totally unavoidable.  We were on top of her before we could walk away.  Believe me, I have been known to hide out in the business form aisle of Staples to 'miss' bumping into someone.  It was as though I was being punished for happily staying home in my jammies so much in the last 2 weeks.  This was a nice woman with whom I used to be in a homeschooling group.  And then the group imploded.  Though we were both innocent bystanders of the implosion, we ultimately ended up on opposite sides of the wreckage.  So it was kind of awkward right there in check stand lane 4.  I wish it hadn't been.  But it was.  And I'm pretty sure she wasn't any more excited about running into us either.  Yes, we survived it, but it made me a little sad.  It made me wish for our big group that is no more.  Aw well, such is life.

Tomorrow, we are headed out again. Up the mountain, to the plentiful snow, with my sister-in-law (hi Karie!), nephew and niece.  I think my anonymous self should be safe.  Because...a - we'll be out of town a good ways, b- it's a weekday and c - I'll have the security blanket of reinforcements with me.

I'm not really as neurotic as that all might seem.  I think it's just that even after a full decade of living here,  I continue to totally lack the skills necessary for living in a little everyone-knows-everything-about-everyone- and-their-mama kind of small town.  Is there a guidebook?  Some cliff notes?  Can you help me out?  Because really, the business form aisle of Staples is not ever on my agenda. I mean, I'm surely breaking rule #1 just by blogging about this right?  I can't help myself...

On an entirely different note, my husband thinks the Perfect Car for our daughter is a light blue 1986 Oldsmobile station wagon....which I find totally hilarious.  And she finds totally mortifying.  So maybe it is perfect.  I love my girl.  And my husband.

xoxo
~S