Stalking The FedEx Guy

I will be MIA for the next day or so.

Why, do you ask?

I am stalking the FedEx guy, because somewhere in this town, he has my brand new laptop on his truck.

And he needs to being it to MEEEEEEEE!!!

(Dell is just relieved that I am no longer stalking them)

So, I will be offline for a day, while I get it setup and ready.

Did I mention that it’s pink?

I am a dork like that.

In the meantime, the heathens will have to fend for themselves…

Ok, not really, but I did entertain the notion that poptarts and Ritz crackers would be a nutritious dinner….with a scoop of Nutella for protein.

However, I reconsidered. I can cook…

because they can be look-outs for the FedEx guy.

Only I Could Injure Myself Doing This….

After a Saturday that did not go according to plan, J and I met up yesterday to make gingerbread houses for my company’s annual fundraising gala. At this event, professionals, amateurs and children all make gingerbread houses that are subsequently auctioned off to the gala attendees. I try to participate when I can, because this is way more fun than the endless bad stuff I deal with at work on a daily basis.

One little gingerbread house SEEMED like an innocent enough project…

Two hours later, my kitchen looked like an icing bomb went off, I required two Scooby-Doo band aids on my left hand, and J and I finally admitted defeat. The above house was the best we could come up with, and that is after a grueling effort on our part, and a copious amount of swear words. We were at this so long, my husband actually managed to teach our child to ride a bike without training wheels, clean out the garage, pack for a trip and heckle whenever possible.

I think it’s safe to say that J and I will not be pursuing careers as gingerbread house decorators.

Not Our Average Friday Night

Last night was hilarious.

Why? Because we attended our very first hockey game.

As a girl who split her childhood between Louisiana and California, hockey is something I know nothing about, nor have had any desire to learn.

But alas, last night was Cub Scout night at the local hockey game, so we were compelled to take the heathens.

Considering that I was looking forward to this experience about as much as a root canal, I was pleasantly surprised at how fun it was.

My husband was way into it.

My boys were into the food.

As for me, I got myself a cocktail, watched the game, and came away learning nothing about hockey other than the fact that the players fight a lot.

But it sure was fun trying to explain it to the boys…

Talk about the blind leading the blind…

I May Need a Desk…

In our new house, we originally planned to have an office, where both my husband and I would have separate desks. This was my grand plan to bring harmony to the Force.

We really need separate desks. As compatible as we are, I still do not understand why he needs to keep every single box for every single piece of computer software he has purchased, on his desk shelf. Don’t get me wrong, I have no objection to keeping them, but why not in the attic? My theory is that, if you haven’t touched it in three years, and it is not something the IRS may come looking for, why does it need to take up valuable desk space? And don’t get me started on the random cords, disks, and God help me, empty Rolodex’s. Also, our two boys often use his desk as a dumping ground for school papers, and I confess I am guilty of letting some mail pile up on occasion. As a result, my husband’s  desk is a wasteland of clutter that can never stay clean for more than 4 minutes at a time.

I know, my OCD is showing.

This summer, we realized that our “office” was really going to need to be a guest bedroom, and both my husband’s need for a desk, and our guests’ need for a bed overrode my plans. My husband frequently works from home, and considering that 85% of the house is Mama-territory, I can’t complain that the poor man needs some space to clutter up. Therefore, my desk was voted off the island.

Unfortunately, I’ve taken to working on my computer, bills, and whatever the heck else I do in the living room.

And the above photo was taken of my end table AFTER I made a concerted effort to clean it up.

So, this begs the question…

Do my guests REALLY need a bed to sleep in?

Homemade Christmas on the Cheap–Idea #2

During my years of being flat-broke, I always had one tried and true gift for women: the homemade cookbook:

I first saw this idea waaayyyy back in 1989, after mom used our dinosaur Macintosh to make one for a family reunion:

Although for her, it was not the most frugal idea. You see, before the days of cell phones, email and even the long-distance pricing wars, calling home from California cost an arm and a leg. She tracked down all her family recipes via long-distance phone calls, and the resulting bills were probably enough to take out a second mortgage on the house.

Luckily, by the time I got around to trying this project, I had email, an all-in-one printer/scanner, and most importantly, a key to my mother’s house; therefore, I could sneak in when she was not home and raid her recipe stash. Nothing like a little breaking and entering to put ya in the holiday spirit.

The first time I did this project, it was with the idea of getting all her recipes into one place for myself and my siblings. I gathered the recipes, used the scanner to pirate artwork from various books (what? It’s not like I was going to publish it, or anything), and got to work on the layout:

I also included numerous hints, tricks and tips throughout the book, because after learning that my sister tried to put out a grease fire with a bag of flour, I figured she probably needed to know a few things. I printed it on good paper and had it spiral-bound at a local copy store for about $5. The end result is the right-hand cookbook you see at the top of this post.

Another way I’ve executed the homemade cookbook idea is to buy cute recipe books with blank pages (as seen on the left of the top pic), and hand-write the recipes in myself. I did this when my sister got married because, despite already having our family cookbook, she needed some easy, quick, already test-driven recipes for a working girl, and these would probably make my mom cringe. No such thing as 30 Minute meals when we were growing up in MY mom’s house…:

Next year, I will probably utilize my discovery of the Living Cookbook software to do a Version 2.0 of our family cookbook.  I really like the idea of nice, pretty color photos, instead of pirated clip-art.

Overall, this is a very cheap project. It just takes a little time, but your family will use it for years to come.

Just don’t go breaking and entering…that would be bad.

A Tale of Two Fish

We took the heathens to the fair last weekend, which was fun…in a slightly nauseating way.

While there, both my husband and the clowns were seduced by the expensive and ridiculous carnival games, and we played so many, we probably could have funded a small country for a day. About halfway through this binge, the boys passed the dreaded goldfish game…ya know, the one where you sink a ping pong ball in a goldfish bowl, and subsequently win a fish?

As a rational and reasonable person, do YOU think it is wise to let two incredibly sensitive children under the age of 9 play this game?

OF COURSE NOT!!! Why? Because we both know that dang fish is going to be dead in a day.

I begged my husband to walk on by, but did he listen? Oh, no. He says, “But honey…..it is part of the whole Fair experience.”

Ten minutes later, we ended up with two little plastic aquariums of goldfish, and I walked away with the dread of knowing what was to come.

Sure enough, right about bedtime last night, I noticed that my youngest’s goldfish was, in fact, dead. I snuck it out of his room, and promptly told his daddy that HE gets to handle this one.

And how did he do this? My poor husband could not face the thought of crushing our baby’s dream, so he made an emergency run to Walmart, and got another fish that was as close of a substitute as he could find.

It must not have been as close as he thought, because this morning, we hear, “Daddy, look!! My fish GREW!!!”

I tried not to snicker, while simultaneously rolling my eyes that my husband had avoided the uncomfortable fish funeral.

About 15 seconds later, my oldest realized that HIS fish was unnaturally still.

As my husband mouthed a curse word or ten, I tried to contain my laughter.

Wanna bet who DOESN’T play the goldfish game next year?

My Mom’s Squash 101–a.k.a “The Side Dish of My Husband’s Discontent”

Up until a few years ago, I absolutely hated squash. I would not touch it with a ten-foot pole, and had no desire to condition myself into tolerating it.

However, as with many foods in my adult life, I woke up one Thanksgiving day and liked it. This sudden turn-around was inexplicable, though apparently only I was affected. My husband still breaks into dramatic choking pantomimes if he sees me cooking it, and has declared squash the one food he will never force our children to try, because that would just be cruel, he says.

My mom has cooked squash the same way since I was a kid, and like many “Mom” dishes, there are no measurements, recipes, rhyme or reason to how she does it. I learned simply by watching, trying and tasting. Want to learn? Here’s a step-by-step plan to make Mom’s squash.

First, let’s see the players:

Here we have some yellow squash, yellow onions and butter. You’ll also need salt, coarse ground black pepper and sugar.

First, you want to melt some butter in a large skillet. I simply eyeballed the amount of squash and onions I had, and figured this was probably enough:

Throw the butter into the skillet to melt over medium heat. Next, dice the onions:

And toss them into the butter to simmer happily:

While the onions do their thing, slice the squash into pieces that have a fairly uniform thickness, but don’t worry about perfection:

Toss the squash into the pan, and add a liberal amount of salt and pepper. Don’t go too crazy; you can always add more later, but you can’t take away. Now for the important part: you want to add some sugar to the mix. I know this seems kind of weird, but squash can sometimes have a slight bitterness to it, and the sugar will cut that, and enhance the good flavors that are hiding in that sneaky yellow package. For this pan, I probably added 3 to 4 tablespoons to start:

So, we have our initial seasonings taken care of, but now it’s time to add a little water. You definitely do not want to go overboard on this step; you are not boiling the stuff for crying out loud. You just want to add some water to help cook things down a bit. For this amount of squash, I probably added 3/4 to 1 cup of water:

And yes, that is a Guiness glass you see me holding…I’m a classy girl like that. Give everything a good stir, and it should look something like this:

Cover and simmer on meduim-low heat. The squash will soften and cook down. Stir every once in a while, but don’t get carried away, or the squash will break apart and become a mushy, pureed mess. After about 20 minutes, TASTE it. Check for texture, salt, pepper and sugar content. Adjust as needed. In the end, you should end up with a skillet of buttery squash yumminess:

Use a slotted spoon to serve, and forget that butter and sugar were involved. The fact that you are eating the squash in the first place gets you enough nutritional cool-points to cancel out their existence.

Panic is a Relative Term

I sooo get an “F” in photography this weekend. I had a full, wonderful, perfect Fall weekend, and have not a single picture to show for it.

Friday, we took the boys to the State Fair. Leaving my camera behind was out of necessity. My oldest loves the carnival rides, and unfortunately, my husband is not so good with heights, excessive speed or any combination of the two. Therefore, it falls to me to accompany my thrill-seeking eight year-old on every ride he’s tall enough to try. Needless to say, the camera was not conducive to this task.

Saturday was busy, as the boys had a birthday party to attend, and afterward, I went to a Girls’ Night Out with some of the other moms from the school. Needless to say, no mom wants a paper-trail of her girls’ night out, so my camera got banished to the car.

Finally,  I managed to snap the above shot of my mums today, as I was butchering them with some pruning shears. However, I was interrupted by the news that most of my family will be MIA for Thanksgiving, including my mom.

Now is probably not the time to remember that I’ve never made HER turkey gravy. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve made gravy o-plenty. But, unlike every other Thanksgiving dish I’ve made by myself, my mom has always been here at crunch-time to make her turkey gravy.

My OCD-half  just had a aneurism.