Chicken Fajitas II
I’ve fiddled with my fajitas a bit (don’t give me that look, Echo!). It’s more complicated but still quite tasty.
Serves my family of 6
1 cup of rice, uncooked
salt, to taste
6 chicken thighs, boneless skinless
3 T. Grill Mates Sweet and Smoky rub with cinnamon and chipotle
1-2 T butter
1 large onion, rough chopped
2 large bell peppers, one each red and green, seeded and rough chopped
1 can of mushroom bits and pieces, very well drained
4-6 roasted roma tomato halves, chopped
condiments as desired, sour cream, cheese, salsa, lime juice, olives, fresh tomatoes, avocado, hot sauce
6-8 6” Tortillas (I like wheat)
More butter, salt, and (optional) fresh cilantro
Echo, don’t be intimidated by this wall of text. It’s a simple recipe, really; I’m just overly verbose. Start your rice. Salt the rice water until it tastes like ocean water. Use a rice cooker. I love those things. Heat a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Add in the chicken thighs (frozen or thawed, doesn’t matter) and sprinkle the rub over the meat. Cover and cook until the bottoms are cooked. Flip the meat and schmear it around in the spices. Cover and cook until the other side is cooked. Remove to a cutting board and take pan off of heat. It doesn’t matter if it’s cooked through yet. Chop the meat into rough pieces and return to pan, and return pan to heat. If the meat is cooked through, add a splash of water and stir the meat into the caramelized spices. If it isn’t cooked through, it’ll sweat enough on its own to be fine. Either way, get all the tasty stuff off the bottom of the pan, make sure the chicken is cooked through, and put it into a bowl. Use your best judgement about how much oil is still in the pan. If it’s too dry, add the butter before adding the onion, peppers, and mushrooms. Cook until the onions are tender (yes, I prefer tender fajita veggies) and the mushrooms are turning color. Add in the roasted tomatoes and heat through. Remove to another bowl. Heat tortillas on a hot skillet or electric griddle. Toss your cooked rice with small chunks of butter, a pinch or two of salt, and the (optional) cilantro. My fav way to assemble mine is to forgo the tortilla. Small bed of rice, sprinkled with lime juice. Top with a small sprinkling of cheese, a scoop of veggies, a scoop of chicken, a sprinkling of lime juice, and a dab of sour cream. If I have avocados, it doesn’t matter where they are as long as they end up in my belly.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Pie in a jar, rusk, and potato pancakes
I am getting rid of a bit of paper clutter, so I'm posting these recipes so I can recycle the paper they're on.
Pie-in-a-jar
From Sister Cox
Cherry Pie Filling
2 - 12 oz bags of frozen cherries
1/3-1/2 cup flour
1/2-3/4 cup sugar
1 T lemon juice
1/4 tsp vanilla (or almond extract)
pinch of salt
Mix together, folding dry ingredients into cherries until combined.
Pie crust
8 oz cream cheese
8 oz butter
2 cups flour
Mix together in an electric mixer until soft dough forms.
Pie in a jar:
Roll out dough to approximately 1/8th inch thick. Cut a 6" round of dough and gently press it into a 4oz canning jar. Fill jar with your choice of pie filling. Cut a small circle of dough to fit the top of the pie jar. Fold the bottom crust down over the top to form an edge. Bake at 425° for 20-25 mins.
Potato Pancakes
Apparently Mormon pioneers made this dish during their time in Nauvoo.
4 large potatoes
3 eggs, beaten until light
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
Peel, wash, and grate the potatoes. Add the eggs and seasoning to potatoes. Use no baking powder or flour. Fry in hot drippings (ham, bacon, or sausage). Have pan very hot as for hotcakes.
Rusk
Make cornmeal bread according to your favorite recipe. After it has cooled, allow to dry fro several days then bake slowly in a warmed oven until it is thoroughly dry and slightly browned. Grate it on a coarse grater or crumble with a rolling pin. It can be eaten with cream and sugar, or with hot milk and honey poured over it. This makes a tasty, quick mush. (Recipe used the they Nahum Curtis family at Nauvoo.)
Pie-in-a-jar
From Sister Cox
Cherry Pie Filling
2 - 12 oz bags of frozen cherries
1/3-1/2 cup flour
1/2-3/4 cup sugar
1 T lemon juice
1/4 tsp vanilla (or almond extract)
pinch of salt
Mix together, folding dry ingredients into cherries until combined.
Pie crust
8 oz cream cheese
8 oz butter
2 cups flour
Mix together in an electric mixer until soft dough forms.
Pie in a jar:
Roll out dough to approximately 1/8th inch thick. Cut a 6" round of dough and gently press it into a 4oz canning jar. Fill jar with your choice of pie filling. Cut a small circle of dough to fit the top of the pie jar. Fold the bottom crust down over the top to form an edge. Bake at 425° for 20-25 mins.
Potato Pancakes
Apparently Mormon pioneers made this dish during their time in Nauvoo.
4 large potatoes
3 eggs, beaten until light
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
Peel, wash, and grate the potatoes. Add the eggs and seasoning to potatoes. Use no baking powder or flour. Fry in hot drippings (ham, bacon, or sausage). Have pan very hot as for hotcakes.
Rusk
Make cornmeal bread according to your favorite recipe. After it has cooled, allow to dry fro several days then bake slowly in a warmed oven until it is thoroughly dry and slightly browned. Grate it on a coarse grater or crumble with a rolling pin. It can be eaten with cream and sugar, or with hot milk and honey poured over it. This makes a tasty, quick mush. (Recipe used the they Nahum Curtis family at Nauvoo.)
Monday, December 05, 2011
Twinkling stars
Princess: Mom, what does twinkle mean?
Me: It's like light flashing off of something, little lights.
Pebbles: There's a song about twinkle!
Tag: Yeah, stars are other galaxies.
Me: Well, suns and stuff.
Princess: So what does tinkle mean, then?
Me: It means to pee.
Princess: Oooooh, so that's why people laugh at school when they say tinkle...
Tag: Tinkle, tinkle little star! [8 year old boy laugh]
Me: I don't know that stars tinkle. They're more of a gas thing. [crickets]
This was all discussed over our family home evening dessert. Yum!
Me: It's like light flashing off of something, little lights.
Pebbles: There's a song about twinkle!
Tag: Yeah, stars are other galaxies.
Me: Well, suns and stuff.
Princess: So what does tinkle mean, then?
Me: It means to pee.
Princess: Oooooh, so that's why people laugh at school when they say tinkle...
Tag: Tinkle, tinkle little star! [8 year old boy laugh]
Me: I don't know that stars tinkle. They're more of a gas thing. [crickets]
This was all discussed over our family home evening dessert. Yum!
Bibles and freezing
Today, I picked the kids up with wet hair. It was 13° outside. Yeah, I felt like the White Witch or that guy in Cool Runnings who breaks off a dread after sitting in a freezer.
Last night we were reading in the New Testament, Matthew. We got to the part where Jesus healed a leper.
Princess: That doesn't make sense at all. Aren't lepers like cheetahs? Why would it need be healed?
Man: You're thinking about leopards. L-E-O-P-A-R-D.
Last night we were reading in the New Testament, Matthew. We got to the part where Jesus healed a leper.
Princess: That doesn't make sense at all. Aren't lepers like cheetahs? Why would it need be healed?
Man: You're thinking about leopards. L-E-O-P-A-R-D.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Go Fish
Playing Go Fish with Freida and a deck of face cards.
Me: Ok, you have four cards in your hand. Look at them, and ask if I have one like it.
Freida: Do you have one?
Me: No, see how this card has a four on it? Say, "do you have a four?"
Freida: [measured and careful] Look, I have a four.
Me: Nonono, say "do you have a four?"
Freida: I don't want a four.
Me: Ok, what do you want to have?
Freida: A sandwich.
Me: Do you want to play the game?
Freida: Yeah, I wanna go fish.
Me: Ok, go fish. Now, do you have a two?
Freida: Hmmmmm... [pursing her lips and pushing them sideways] No, but can I find one in the fish?
Me: No, you say "go fish."
Freida: Go fish!
Me: Look at your cards. You need two cards to make a match.
Freida: Look! I have two black ones!
Me: No, no they need to have the same number or letter.
Freida: Here's a six and a six! [holds up a six and a nine]
Me: [crickets] Maybe we should do this with fish cards instead.
Me: Ok, you have four cards in your hand. Look at them, and ask if I have one like it.
Freida: Do you have one?
Me: No, see how this card has a four on it? Say, "do you have a four?"
Freida: [measured and careful] Look, I have a four.
Me: Nonono, say "do you have a four?"
Freida: I don't want a four.
Me: Ok, what do you want to have?
Freida: A sandwich.
Me: Do you want to play the game?
Freida: Yeah, I wanna go fish.
Me: Ok, go fish. Now, do you have a two?
Freida: Hmmmmm... [pursing her lips and pushing them sideways] No, but can I find one in the fish?
Me: No, you say "go fish."
Freida: Go fish!
Me: Look at your cards. You need two cards to make a match.
Freida: Look! I have two black ones!
Me: No, no they need to have the same number or letter.
Freida: Here's a six and a six! [holds up a six and a nine]
Me: [crickets] Maybe we should do this with fish cards instead.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Family cookbook online
I've tried to assemble recipes throughout my adult life with only moderate success. The recipes I yearn for as my children grow are the ones I remember from that time of my life. My mouth waters remembering Grandma's poppy seed bread (though I confess that I lived for the sweet glaze on top), Dad's potato salad (no recipe, it's one of those dishes you just *feel* as you make it), Grandpa's ravishing burgers and brats with his garden tomatoes, Uncle Jim's beans (once again, a recipe written in his bones that doesn't translate onto paper), my Mom's homemade chicken soup served with a thick, buttered slice of homemade, half-wheat bread, and Aunt Cindy's almost miraculous Christmas dinners.
Everyone has a flavor or scent that takes them back to simpler times, when the cost of butter wasn't quite so troublesome and we didn't know nor care about genetic modification or any hormones but our own.
I've made all kinds of recipe cards and binders with printed sheets that still manage to get splashed and covered in cocoa powder despite living inside plastic protectors. I've made Word documents that always get lost in the great shuffle that occurs when computers die and we load backups onto the new model. Now, I think I may have a solution that works for many members of my family.
Google Docs is a program that you don't have to use Gmail to enjoy. I made a document which sports the misnomer "Christmas Cookbook", because that's what it was going to be at its inception. What it has become over the past several weeks is nothing short of a marvel.
I began by throwing a bunch of recipe titles into the document, hoping someone would fill in the blanks. Invitations to my family of origin, uncles and aunts, and grandparents were sent and there was a flurry of additions as people dug out their recipe boxes. I expected that. What I didn't anticipate but kind of hoped for were the stories and conversations that went with the recipes. Food has long been a language of love for us, especially when it comes to sugar. Working in a kitchen with those whom I love nourishes me in body and soul. What could the holidays possibly have been without helping Grandma peel potatoes or put salad in her wood bowls? At such times I even started to like doing dishes with the kitchen sound system suspending songs of the holiday above conversation and laughter like flocked mistletoe.
I love the organic nature of this digital document. We can all add notes to the margins, as it were, and post several variations of a core delight depending on the diet du jour or a mere flight of fancy. We post tips on cooking techniques and explain exotic ingredients.
Most of all, despite the barriers of continents and decades, we can still enjoy having each other in the kitchen.
Everyone has a flavor or scent that takes them back to simpler times, when the cost of butter wasn't quite so troublesome and we didn't know nor care about genetic modification or any hormones but our own.
I've made all kinds of recipe cards and binders with printed sheets that still manage to get splashed and covered in cocoa powder despite living inside plastic protectors. I've made Word documents that always get lost in the great shuffle that occurs when computers die and we load backups onto the new model. Now, I think I may have a solution that works for many members of my family.
Google Docs is a program that you don't have to use Gmail to enjoy. I made a document which sports the misnomer "Christmas Cookbook", because that's what it was going to be at its inception. What it has become over the past several weeks is nothing short of a marvel.
I began by throwing a bunch of recipe titles into the document, hoping someone would fill in the blanks. Invitations to my family of origin, uncles and aunts, and grandparents were sent and there was a flurry of additions as people dug out their recipe boxes. I expected that. What I didn't anticipate but kind of hoped for were the stories and conversations that went with the recipes. Food has long been a language of love for us, especially when it comes to sugar. Working in a kitchen with those whom I love nourishes me in body and soul. What could the holidays possibly have been without helping Grandma peel potatoes or put salad in her wood bowls? At such times I even started to like doing dishes with the kitchen sound system suspending songs of the holiday above conversation and laughter like flocked mistletoe.
I love the organic nature of this digital document. We can all add notes to the margins, as it were, and post several variations of a core delight depending on the diet du jour or a mere flight of fancy. We post tips on cooking techniques and explain exotic ingredients.
Most of all, despite the barriers of continents and decades, we can still enjoy having each other in the kitchen.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
School!
Princess is in 4th grade. Her teacher is quite nice and young, as opposed to her 3rd grade teacher who was older and, though a good person, tended to be severe. She's thinking of joining the extracurricular choir since I've decided that having them both in a sport as well as school as well as their church activities would put me under very quickly. Her class didn't seem exceedingly full as I escorted her to the outdoor access to the room where she will now spend the majority of her waking hours. Her body language was defensive and miserable, but not as bad as I expected it might be on the first day of school in what still feels like a new town. She looked so much older than her peers, towering at 5'3", carrying a purse with her glasses in it, and already turning into a physiological teen.
Tag bounced right into his classroom with nary a backward glance for his old mum. His teacher is also young and seemed to have an easy-going attitude that I think will make all the difference for him this year. His last teacher's level of oppression increased in direct proportion to his level of difficulty in class, and the converse was true as well. It was a nasty spiral. I'm really hoping that this teacher will give Tag enough breathing room to feel like working is his own choice, without allowing him to let his work get lazy. It's a tough balance and I know I'll be conferencing with her on this one several times over the next year.
Pebbles has her Dibles (sp?) test this morning. She was to identify the letters of the alphabet (cake) and identify the letters that make the sound with which some simple words begin. We find out tomorrow who her teacher will be and then she starts full day kindergarten on Thursday. She's so very excited about school, but the thing about which she's most thrilled is the idea of eating lunch at school like her older siblings. I'm trying not to dampen her enthusiasm for the activity which caused me the greatest discomfort in school at any grade level. Whatever.
Frieda is already soaking it up. She has the tv all to herself, her pick of lunch options, and either mom or dad at all times since we're working to stagger our different obligations. Life is tough, being the youngest.
My school is starting off a bit rough. My books are all online but the access codes are invalid. The technical difficulties are fairly easy fixes, though, and I fully expect to be able to dive in in the next few days. My volunteer hours with the Angle Food Ministry, Bountiful Baskets food co-op, cub scouts and teaching at church all keep me fairly busy. I've been preserving boxes of peaches and cherries over the past month or so, polishing up a food storage plan, and trying not to freak out too much that Man has decided to go to graduate school rather than earnestly hunt for a job. My successes have outweighed my failures, even though those failures have been slightly spectacular at times. I've made a few friends out here, including a couple of walking partners. We average between 3.5 and 4.5 miles a day. I've also made friends with a young, aspiring author in need of a pool of beta readers for a series that will begin publishing soon. There's a quilting group at church that meets every Wednesday that makes a huge stack of blankets to give to shelters around the holidays, a playgroup that meets on Tuesdays, a group that travels up to the big city to work in the wet pack cannery once a month (have you ever three 100 gallon pots of tomato soup all in a row before? Neither had I!) and temple trips about once a month. Am I busy? You bet your sweet Aunt Sally!
Man starts school next week. His degree program is Masters of Innovation: Game Design and Development. The program is engineered to teach people how to make games and build business that make games. He hopes to be an entrepreneur in the gaming industry. Honestly, I really hope it works out. He has already invested a lot of time and effort into learning how each aspect of game development works, teaching himself how to use various software programs and beginning his learning in several programming languages.
I'm still low carbing it but took a day off yesterday to celebrate a great new bread recipe and our latest bunch of peaches that "need to be used." Today I get back to it with a breakfast of chicken breast and asparagus.
And maybe I'll sneak in a nap.
Tag bounced right into his classroom with nary a backward glance for his old mum. His teacher is also young and seemed to have an easy-going attitude that I think will make all the difference for him this year. His last teacher's level of oppression increased in direct proportion to his level of difficulty in class, and the converse was true as well. It was a nasty spiral. I'm really hoping that this teacher will give Tag enough breathing room to feel like working is his own choice, without allowing him to let his work get lazy. It's a tough balance and I know I'll be conferencing with her on this one several times over the next year.
Pebbles has her Dibles (sp?) test this morning. She was to identify the letters of the alphabet (cake) and identify the letters that make the sound with which some simple words begin. We find out tomorrow who her teacher will be and then she starts full day kindergarten on Thursday. She's so very excited about school, but the thing about which she's most thrilled is the idea of eating lunch at school like her older siblings. I'm trying not to dampen her enthusiasm for the activity which caused me the greatest discomfort in school at any grade level. Whatever.
Frieda is already soaking it up. She has the tv all to herself, her pick of lunch options, and either mom or dad at all times since we're working to stagger our different obligations. Life is tough, being the youngest.
My school is starting off a bit rough. My books are all online but the access codes are invalid. The technical difficulties are fairly easy fixes, though, and I fully expect to be able to dive in in the next few days. My volunteer hours with the Angle Food Ministry, Bountiful Baskets food co-op, cub scouts and teaching at church all keep me fairly busy. I've been preserving boxes of peaches and cherries over the past month or so, polishing up a food storage plan, and trying not to freak out too much that Man has decided to go to graduate school rather than earnestly hunt for a job. My successes have outweighed my failures, even though those failures have been slightly spectacular at times. I've made a few friends out here, including a couple of walking partners. We average between 3.5 and 4.5 miles a day. I've also made friends with a young, aspiring author in need of a pool of beta readers for a series that will begin publishing soon. There's a quilting group at church that meets every Wednesday that makes a huge stack of blankets to give to shelters around the holidays, a playgroup that meets on Tuesdays, a group that travels up to the big city to work in the wet pack cannery once a month (have you ever three 100 gallon pots of tomato soup all in a row before? Neither had I!) and temple trips about once a month. Am I busy? You bet your sweet Aunt Sally!
Man starts school next week. His degree program is Masters of Innovation: Game Design and Development. The program is engineered to teach people how to make games and build business that make games. He hopes to be an entrepreneur in the gaming industry. Honestly, I really hope it works out. He has already invested a lot of time and effort into learning how each aspect of game development works, teaching himself how to use various software programs and beginning his learning in several programming languages.
I'm still low carbing it but took a day off yesterday to celebrate a great new bread recipe and our latest bunch of peaches that "need to be used." Today I get back to it with a breakfast of chicken breast and asparagus.
And maybe I'll sneak in a nap.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
South Beach: Back to Phase 1, and general update
So, I'm back to phase one of the south beach. I've even put a little back on over the past few weeks and I'm disappointed. Again.
I have a new walking partner until she gets a job, and I'll be making another doctor's appointment after the kids get back into school. It just seems to be utterly ridiculous that the addition of just one or two servings of carbs should halt or negate my weight loss. The book says to work your way up to five or six servings as long as it's reasonable veggies, whole grain breads, and all refined flours and sugars are avoided.
I just don't know what to do anymore. One of these days I'll scrape together my pennies and buy some sort of exercise machine off of Craig'slist, but my big hangup there is how to transport and then get it into my home when my partner is gimpy. If I were feeling optimistic, I'd just call around and see if a youth in the ward wouldn't mind earning a stack of cookies for helping me out.
School is going well. I finished my first class in half the time allotted. My next class starts in mid-August. It's been nice to take a break. My home is now back in order. I just need to find a good storage solution for my food storage which now overflows the craft room and Raul. We've been putting what money we can into mid- to long term food storage against the coming months. Man's school starts soon, along with a student job (IT support) that he landed earlier this week. We're just going to take it one month at a time and hope that my certificate can land me a decent job. If not, it's back to school , most likely at Pueblo Community College which is 40 mins away. There's nothing local that has got medical degrees, and Pueblo has an embarrassment of them and a surprisingly large campus for a community college.
Areas of study, (note that they offer seven of the degrees I've considered over the past few years) and a pic of the campus.
Man has kept himself busy by teaching himself some of the basics of game creation. He's keeping a bit of a record over here. Since his short job search didn't go well and ended with his decision to return to school, he's been scouring the internet for resources on learning how to code, develop graphics, and generally put together a fairly ambitious game. He's going to use it as his master's project and hopes to sell it later on. I have to admit that it looks like a fun game and I hope it works out for him.
I have a new walking partner until she gets a job, and I'll be making another doctor's appointment after the kids get back into school. It just seems to be utterly ridiculous that the addition of just one or two servings of carbs should halt or negate my weight loss. The book says to work your way up to five or six servings as long as it's reasonable veggies, whole grain breads, and all refined flours and sugars are avoided.
I just don't know what to do anymore. One of these days I'll scrape together my pennies and buy some sort of exercise machine off of Craig'slist, but my big hangup there is how to transport and then get it into my home when my partner is gimpy. If I were feeling optimistic, I'd just call around and see if a youth in the ward wouldn't mind earning a stack of cookies for helping me out.
School is going well. I finished my first class in half the time allotted. My next class starts in mid-August. It's been nice to take a break. My home is now back in order. I just need to find a good storage solution for my food storage which now overflows the craft room and Raul. We've been putting what money we can into mid- to long term food storage against the coming months. Man's school starts soon, along with a student job (IT support) that he landed earlier this week. We're just going to take it one month at a time and hope that my certificate can land me a decent job. If not, it's back to school , most likely at Pueblo Community College which is 40 mins away. There's nothing local that has got medical degrees, and Pueblo has an embarrassment of them and a surprisingly large campus for a community college.
Areas of study, (note that they offer seven of the degrees I've considered over the past few years) and a pic of the campus.
Man has kept himself busy by teaching himself some of the basics of game creation. He's keeping a bit of a record over here. Since his short job search didn't go well and ended with his decision to return to school, he's been scouring the internet for resources on learning how to code, develop graphics, and generally put together a fairly ambitious game. He's going to use it as his master's project and hopes to sell it later on. I have to admit that it looks like a fun game and I hope it works out for him.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
No kids in public
Link to an article about banning kids from some public places.
I can understand not wanting disruptive behavior from children in certain venues. Heck, it raises the hair on the back of my neck to hear a kid who just won't quit when all I want to do is shop (code in my house for getting out because my ears are tired of bored/tired/hungry/miserable kids). My kids have been guilty of vociferous transgression in public. In fact, I've waited in line for 15 mins at a Walmart and still been two people back from the register when they've started to whine or cry. I've waited it out, letting the kid cry because my cupboards at home were bare and I couldn't afford to just leave the cart and order a pizza.
But why begin a culture that is exclusive of children? Families with kids go out to eat fairly often, and kid portions are restaurants are dismal. I'm sure that the $3.50 we paid for our daughter's grilled cheese and small pile of French fries yesterday was about seven times the amount of money the restaurant paid for those ingredients. On the other hand, an adult who orders a full spread is obviously putting more money into restaurant pockets than my tots are. Perhaps these venues are trying to keep the most profitable customers happy.
On the other hand, there is nowhere an airplane passenger can go to escape a child who doesn't understand how to relieve pressure in their ears. A DINK (dual income, no kids) can simply go to a fancier restaurant to avoid brats. If you go to Chick-fil-a, there will be children. But do they have the right to banish children from a portion of an aircraft when they themselves can simply apply a pair of cheap ear plugs or noise cancelling earbuds and achieve quick peace?
I don't know of many parents who can afford first class plane tickets in the first place. And I can understand how some restaurants simply aren't appropriate for the little ones, specifically black tie or sports bars. On the other hand, why Whole Foods?? Why on earth would I continue to shop at a store where I must memorize and respect exclusive rules when my life is already laden with obligations? I have a hard enough time remembering that Costco closes early on Saturday nights (shame on them, as a Costco trip happens to make a fine date for us old parents) without keeping a whole list of store hours that I might reasonably observe on my person at all times lest I embarrass myself by entering, with a child, during the wrong business hours.
My least favorite comment on the article is as follows:
Ha! As if anyone on this planet has any idea on how to raise a child from scratch before actually having one and raising it. The only people who seem to do well with this from the get go either have degrees in child development or a passel of younger siblings they were forced to raise. I can understand that those who don't know how to drive a car shouldn't own one, but what about houses? In owning one, you sort of learn as you go and mistakes will be made. There aren't classes on how to maintain a home, are there? If so, I want to take one as soon as possible. But even classes on child rearing can't possibly prepare you for the day Little Johnny learns that screaming in public makes mommy crazy, and the fact that it takes a lot (a LOT) of training to get some of them to behave.
I dunno. I writing this in a sort of fatigued haze. I know I feel outrage, especially because kids are the future of our species and treating them like an inconvenience is kind of churlish. But, on the other hand, I hate it when I have to listen to kids scream.
What do you think?
I can understand not wanting disruptive behavior from children in certain venues. Heck, it raises the hair on the back of my neck to hear a kid who just won't quit when all I want to do is shop (code in my house for getting out because my ears are tired of bored/tired/hungry/miserable kids). My kids have been guilty of vociferous transgression in public. In fact, I've waited in line for 15 mins at a Walmart and still been two people back from the register when they've started to whine or cry. I've waited it out, letting the kid cry because my cupboards at home were bare and I couldn't afford to just leave the cart and order a pizza.
But why begin a culture that is exclusive of children? Families with kids go out to eat fairly often, and kid portions are restaurants are dismal. I'm sure that the $3.50 we paid for our daughter's grilled cheese and small pile of French fries yesterday was about seven times the amount of money the restaurant paid for those ingredients. On the other hand, an adult who orders a full spread is obviously putting more money into restaurant pockets than my tots are. Perhaps these venues are trying to keep the most profitable customers happy.
On the other hand, there is nowhere an airplane passenger can go to escape a child who doesn't understand how to relieve pressure in their ears. A DINK (dual income, no kids) can simply go to a fancier restaurant to avoid brats. If you go to Chick-fil-a, there will be children. But do they have the right to banish children from a portion of an aircraft when they themselves can simply apply a pair of cheap ear plugs or noise cancelling earbuds and achieve quick peace?
I don't know of many parents who can afford first class plane tickets in the first place. And I can understand how some restaurants simply aren't appropriate for the little ones, specifically black tie or sports bars. On the other hand, why Whole Foods?? Why on earth would I continue to shop at a store where I must memorize and respect exclusive rules when my life is already laden with obligations? I have a hard enough time remembering that Costco closes early on Saturday nights (shame on them, as a Costco trip happens to make a fine date for us old parents) without keeping a whole list of store hours that I might reasonably observe on my person at all times lest I embarrass myself by entering, with a child, during the wrong business hours.
My least favorite comment on the article is as follows:
If you dont know how to raise a child then don't have them.
Ha! As if anyone on this planet has any idea on how to raise a child from scratch before actually having one and raising it. The only people who seem to do well with this from the get go either have degrees in child development or a passel of younger siblings they were forced to raise. I can understand that those who don't know how to drive a car shouldn't own one, but what about houses? In owning one, you sort of learn as you go and mistakes will be made. There aren't classes on how to maintain a home, are there? If so, I want to take one as soon as possible. But even classes on child rearing can't possibly prepare you for the day Little Johnny learns that screaming in public makes mommy crazy, and the fact that it takes a lot (a LOT) of training to get some of them to behave.
I dunno. I writing this in a sort of fatigued haze. I know I feel outrage, especially because kids are the future of our species and treating them like an inconvenience is kind of churlish. But, on the other hand, I hate it when I have to listen to kids scream.
What do you think?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tamale pie
A new recipe over on the recipe blog:
Linky.
I'm doing the "I'd rather not cook tonight but I'm too cheap to order out so what's fast and easy and bland enough that the kids won't whine about it oh I think I've found something" dance.
Linky.
I'm doing the "I'd rather not cook tonight but I'm too cheap to order out so what's fast and easy and bland enough that the kids won't whine about it oh I think I've found something" dance.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
LOTR -- again
A new installment in the LOTR saga, The Quest To Sort This Tripe Out.
When we last left our heroes, I was begging for a refund for a mis-sent box of LOTR so I could order one for the right address. The idea was that the people at the old address would refuse the order, it would get sent back and reshelved, and all would be right in the world.
I got my refund and then used that money to order a new LOTR. As far as I knew, all was as it should be.
Then my original order came in the mail today. I was surprised, to say the least. It managed to get itself forwarded at no cost to myself (a surprise since a different package that has toiled the same dark path was forwarded to me to the tune of $10).
So, I wrote to Amazon again, asking if I might mail them the wayward LOTR so I wouldn't be cheating them out of $XX.XX, especially since they had been so kind to me through customer care in the past (and, well, I try to be honest in all my dealings).
Then I got this email this afternoon:
Hello,
I'm sorry for any inconvenience caused.
I've requested a refund of $XX.XX for the full amount of this shipment, including shipping, if any. You'll see the refund to your MasterCard in the next 2-3 business days.
You can check on your refund by viewing the order in Your Account here: (linky in the email)
From your e-mail message, I understand that you've received the Lotrbree [which was my frenetic abbreviation, which the poor, non-English speaking CSR didn't bother to correctly capitalize] package that we already issued a refund. However, no need to concern as a goodwill gesture, there is no need to return the item you received.
Thanks again for your feedback.
AAAACK!!!! So, they've successfully issued a refund for the second purchase, meaning I now have two copies of Lord of the Rings Blu-ray Extended Edition (LOTRBrEE, pronounced Loe-tar-bree) and I've functionally gotten them both for free. I think. They wrote to let me know that the refund was successfully processed, but nothing has cleared my bank account yet.
What do you think??? Should I chase this even more to make it all right, or just enjoy some Amazon good will? I'm so confused.
When we last left our heroes, I was begging for a refund for a mis-sent box of LOTR so I could order one for the right address. The idea was that the people at the old address would refuse the order, it would get sent back and reshelved, and all would be right in the world.
I got my refund and then used that money to order a new LOTR. As far as I knew, all was as it should be.
Then my original order came in the mail today. I was surprised, to say the least. It managed to get itself forwarded at no cost to myself (a surprise since a different package that has toiled the same dark path was forwarded to me to the tune of $10).
So, I wrote to Amazon again, asking if I might mail them the wayward LOTR so I wouldn't be cheating them out of $XX.XX, especially since they had been so kind to me through customer care in the past (and, well, I try to be honest in all my dealings).
Then I got this email this afternoon:
Hello,
I'm sorry for any inconvenience caused.
I've requested a refund of $XX.XX for the full amount of this shipment, including shipping, if any. You'll see the refund to your MasterCard in the next 2-3 business days.
You can check on your refund by viewing the order in Your Account here: (linky in the email)
From your e-mail message, I understand that you've received the Lotrbree [which was my frenetic abbreviation, which the poor, non-English speaking CSR didn't bother to correctly capitalize] package that we already issued a refund. However, no need to concern as a goodwill gesture, there is no need to return the item you received.
Thanks again for your feedback.
AAAACK!!!! So, they've successfully issued a refund for the second purchase, meaning I now have two copies of Lord of the Rings Blu-ray Extended Edition (LOTRBrEE, pronounced Loe-tar-bree) and I've functionally gotten them both for free. I think. They wrote to let me know that the refund was successfully processed, but nothing has cleared my bank account yet.
What do you think??? Should I chase this even more to make it all right, or just enjoy some Amazon good will? I'm so confused.
Thursday, July 07, 2011
South Beach, Month 1
Well, still only down 13 pounds. It seems that as soon as I added any carbs at all that my weight loss completely stalled. After the first two weeks, you're supposed to add in one serving of carbs (of course as unrefined as possible, and you may be astonished at how small real servings are) which I did. Now, I will admit that I had a piece of Dave's birthday cake, but other than that I've been pretty good. The rice I've been eating is a brown/wild blend mixed with half quinoa, and I only eat it once or twice a week. Other than that, I've had meatballs made with 9 grain breadcrumbs (a mere fraction of the meatball, and yet it must be considered) and some barbecue sauce here and there (which I know has sugar, but in most cases it was the only carb I ate all day), but it's still pretty disappointing to so completely plateau despite the fact that pasta, ice cream, and white rice and I havn't been on speaking terms for a month.
My next step is to exercise more while still allowing myself one serving of carbs a day. The only problem is that I'm limited to things in the home while the kids are still home for the summer, or to go biking before Man goes to work. My track record of waking up when I don't really have to is kind of dismal. (sigh)
On the other hand, every single unit in my online class discusses a single organ system, and each organ system has discussed the impact diabetes has on it in bold detail. My most recent unit was on the sensory aspects of organ systems, and diabetic retinopathy was particularly poignant. So, if that doesn't get me biking I don't know what will.
But off I go to the cannery to pick up a home canning unit. I'm stashing things that the cannery doesn't offer, like basmati rice, quinoa, anasazi beans, sugar that's actually much cheaper by the pound, and egg noodles. My 90 food supply menus need a massive overhaul due to my new (and most despised) dietary concerns, so I can't put too much away until that gets done.
Overall, I'm most frustrated with this body and its strong tendency toward diabetic traits. I'm angry that I can work so hard for such slight results. I'm tempted to go to my doctor and demand metformin to at least get me to a normal weight range, which is still 50 heavy pounds away. I'm tempted to once again use Alli but the speed at which I regained all of the weight lost in that manner was a very bitter experience.
So, this week, biking and maybe a nod to Jillian Michaels and her 30 Day Shred.
My next step is to exercise more while still allowing myself one serving of carbs a day. The only problem is that I'm limited to things in the home while the kids are still home for the summer, or to go biking before Man goes to work. My track record of waking up when I don't really have to is kind of dismal. (sigh)
On the other hand, every single unit in my online class discusses a single organ system, and each organ system has discussed the impact diabetes has on it in bold detail. My most recent unit was on the sensory aspects of organ systems, and diabetic retinopathy was particularly poignant. So, if that doesn't get me biking I don't know what will.
But off I go to the cannery to pick up a home canning unit. I'm stashing things that the cannery doesn't offer, like basmati rice, quinoa, anasazi beans, sugar that's actually much cheaper by the pound, and egg noodles. My 90 food supply menus need a massive overhaul due to my new (and most despised) dietary concerns, so I can't put too much away until that gets done.
Overall, I'm most frustrated with this body and its strong tendency toward diabetic traits. I'm angry that I can work so hard for such slight results. I'm tempted to go to my doctor and demand metformin to at least get me to a normal weight range, which is still 50 heavy pounds away. I'm tempted to once again use Alli but the speed at which I regained all of the weight lost in that manner was a very bitter experience.
So, this week, biking and maybe a nod to Jillian Michaels and her 30 Day Shred.
Friday, July 01, 2011
my first grey hair
Well, the first one I know of. It came as a bit of a shock, and with good timing: next week is my 29th birthday. I hope silver hair makes me look distinguished.
What did I do with my first grey hair? Yanked it, of course. Given how stressful this past decade has been I'm actually surprised not to see one sooner. Ignore how dusty my desk looks. I just didn't know how to take a picture of a single hair in dim conditions.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Amazon, oh Amazon
Written to Amazon a few minutes ago:
To properly illustrate my suggestion, allow me to tell you a story.
My husband is a Soldier, so we move a lot. In fact, we've moved as a married couple nine times in the past ten years. As our family needs have evolved we've found it increasingly difficult to update our address with every entity with whom we do business. Imagine my chagrin the first time I had an Amazon order, my most treasured Teeccino coffee substitute, fall into the possession of the hapless folks who took up residence in our wake in Fort Meade, Maryland. I changed the billing address but neglected to change the delivery address for my subscription order. That was my mistake. I changed the delivery address for my subscription order after clearing up the mistake and was confident that changing that address had solved my delivery problems.
I then made an order for canvases and an anatomy book, which were also sent to Ft Meade because I had a little too much faith, or perhaps complacency that changing my subscription address had also changed my default shipping address. Alas, this was not so and of course it was my oversight. Your ordering process is so quick and easy that I didn't take the time to carefully peruse my order information. Shame on you. (Yes, I'm playing coy on that one.)
Now, in the latest installment of items sent to Ft Meade by mistake, I find that my most anticipated order of The Lord Of the Rings Extended Edition Blu-ray (with bonus scenes! and interviews! and Weta documentaries!) is sauntering into the arms of an unknown recipient like a filthy harlot. I had forgotten that something which I pre-ordered might have an old address on it, even after deleting every other address in my Amazon address book as a precaution against such an occurrence.
Dear, wonderful Amazon and the poor CSR who must read my wistful missive, I have a suggestion for you. When someone changes their billing address, please ask if they would also like to change their shipping addresses on various orders at that same time in a popup box, perhaps one that flashes pink and is bordered by animated pythons sipping the tears of a thousand customers whose orders went awry. I understand that many customers ship to many different addresses at the same time, but I find it overtly complicated to have to go in and manually change the shipping address on every single service which you have to offer. Call me flaky (which I know you won't, but you're thinking it by now, I'm sure) but I simply forgot to manage all of my orders in an appropriate manner in the midst of disconnecting, reconnecting, and updating everything from my bank to my cell phones to my doctors to my relatives and ad infinitum.
My adored Amazon, I appreciate your tolerance concerning this terrible tangle. I can only imagine the consternation of the people who live in that old house, wondering why the schizophrenic previous tenants insist that they live where they do not, not to mention why they order such disparate and geeky items.
Now, for hopefully the final time, I would like to request a refund for the movie, if possible, so I can order it again and have to sent to its rightful home. I solemnly promise to look over my shipping and billing addresses three times before every order, throw computer hamsters over my shoulder before confirming the order, and thank the great User every time an order arrives in a safe and timely manner.
Thank you.
(note: every item that was sent to the wrong place has been shipped back to Amazon. My refunds are for returned merchandise)
To properly illustrate my suggestion, allow me to tell you a story.
My husband is a Soldier, so we move a lot. In fact, we've moved as a married couple nine times in the past ten years. As our family needs have evolved we've found it increasingly difficult to update our address with every entity with whom we do business. Imagine my chagrin the first time I had an Amazon order, my most treasured Teeccino coffee substitute, fall into the possession of the hapless folks who took up residence in our wake in Fort Meade, Maryland. I changed the billing address but neglected to change the delivery address for my subscription order. That was my mistake. I changed the delivery address for my subscription order after clearing up the mistake and was confident that changing that address had solved my delivery problems.
I then made an order for canvases and an anatomy book, which were also sent to Ft Meade because I had a little too much faith, or perhaps complacency that changing my subscription address had also changed my default shipping address. Alas, this was not so and of course it was my oversight. Your ordering process is so quick and easy that I didn't take the time to carefully peruse my order information. Shame on you. (Yes, I'm playing coy on that one.)
Now, in the latest installment of items sent to Ft Meade by mistake, I find that my most anticipated order of The Lord Of the Rings Extended Edition Blu-ray (with bonus scenes! and interviews! and Weta documentaries!) is sauntering into the arms of an unknown recipient like a filthy harlot. I had forgotten that something which I pre-ordered might have an old address on it, even after deleting every other address in my Amazon address book as a precaution against such an occurrence.
Dear, wonderful Amazon and the poor CSR who must read my wistful missive, I have a suggestion for you. When someone changes their billing address, please ask if they would also like to change their shipping addresses on various orders at that same time in a popup box, perhaps one that flashes pink and is bordered by animated pythons sipping the tears of a thousand customers whose orders went awry. I understand that many customers ship to many different addresses at the same time, but I find it overtly complicated to have to go in and manually change the shipping address on every single service which you have to offer. Call me flaky (which I know you won't, but you're thinking it by now, I'm sure) but I simply forgot to manage all of my orders in an appropriate manner in the midst of disconnecting, reconnecting, and updating everything from my bank to my cell phones to my doctors to my relatives and ad infinitum.
My adored Amazon, I appreciate your tolerance concerning this terrible tangle. I can only imagine the consternation of the people who live in that old house, wondering why the schizophrenic previous tenants insist that they live where they do not, not to mention why they order such disparate and geeky items.
Now, for hopefully the final time, I would like to request a refund for the movie, if possible, so I can order it again and have to sent to its rightful home. I solemnly promise to look over my shipping and billing addresses three times before every order, throw computer hamsters over my shoulder before confirming the order, and thank the great User every time an order arrives in a safe and timely manner.
Thank you.
(note: every item that was sent to the wrong place has been shipped back to Amazon. My refunds are for returned merchandise)
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Week 2
Week 2: total weight loss, 10 pounds. So, we had a bit of a slow down, but that's ok! I check earlier data in the Wii Fit and it said that in March I was 20 pounds heavier than I am now. Groovy.
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
dare I brag? dare I boast?
There are 15 sections plus a final exam for my first course, medical terminology. I just finished the second section in as many days. The whole course is due by August 29th. I wonder if they'll let me take the final early.
Hey, not a bad way to end my tenth wedding anniversary. ;)
Hey, not a bad way to end my tenth wedding anniversary. ;)
how do you say integumentary?
Homeschooling taught me a number of things, one of which is the following nugget from which I may never recover:
reading only rarely teaches you how to actually speak.
But, then, neither do sound recordings.
My book says: in-TEG-you-MENT-ah-ree
The guy who does the pronunciation recordings says" in-TEG-you-men-terry
Who do I believe? I just don't know. I guess I'll have to ask a doctor from the Midwest and then just go with it.
reading only rarely teaches you how to actually speak.
But, then, neither do sound recordings.
My book says: in-TEG-you-MENT-ah-ree
The guy who does the pronunciation recordings says" in-TEG-you-men-terry
Who do I believe? I just don't know. I guess I'll have to ask a doctor from the Midwest and then just go with it.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
South Beach
I'm not feeling too deprived, even after three days. And, dare I say... the Wii Fit says I'm down four pounds already since June 1st.
Man found the biggest artichokes I've ever seen last night, for 80 cents apiece. Tonight, we feast to the tune of (modest amounts of) butter, garlic, and the barest pinch of thyme. Maybe I'll broil them by halves and then roast some parm on them as well. Who says that dieting has to be torture?
Man found the biggest artichokes I've ever seen last night, for 80 cents apiece. Tonight, we feast to the tune of (modest amounts of) butter, garlic, and the barest pinch of thyme. Maybe I'll broil them by halves and then roast some parm on them as well. Who says that dieting has to be torture?
Thursday, June 02, 2011
Jobs and school and getting by
Things are crazy busy. And yet I managed to find enough time this morning to poke around my Cityville game. It's suitably brainless and if I walk away the only bad thing that happens is crop whither. Ah, Cityville, you forgive me always.
Man is looking at training through a program called LeaderQuest. The VA will pay for the training. He's been to at least three job fairs in the last month and hasn't gotten a single phone call despite the federal resume building classes. He's gone through vocational rehabilitation to try to find a job and nary a nibble. So, when he starts this training we'll be working with his disability check, a stipend from voc-rehab and unemployment benefits. All three of those should get us by, as long as we're pretty careful. The end result of these training courses will be all of the certs he needs to get a job in computers... or, at least that's what they're telling us. Regardless, I have 6-10 months to get my certification with some fairly good job potential. His training is supposed to take about four months, so he'll have two months to look for a job before I start looking. I'm trying not to feel depressed about the whole situation.
Tag is now in scouts, so we're working on that stuff and his Faith in God program. Princess also has Faith in God, but the requirements for both of them are the same. I've got it figured that we can do all of the Faith in God stuff this summer pretty easily, and then we can knock out his whole Bobcat, a good chunk of his Wolf, and at least one arrow of light before Tag heads back to school. In the fall Princess wants to do volleyball and Tag wants to do soccer. He had so much fun with basketball that he may do that after soccer season as well. Between Man's new callings (assistant scout master + young men's second counselor) and mine (assistant Webelos leader), Tag's scouts, Princess' activity girls, and the potential for each of them to have a sport complete with Saturday games, and my school starting next week, I'm feeling a little queasy.
Pebbles is learning to read one baby step at a time. Freida inexplicably has the whole alphabet memorized and can recognize most letters even upside down. We honestly have no idea how that happened or whether it will lend itself to reading.
Oh, and I've started the South Beach Phase 1 yesterday. Day one wasn't too bad. I was feeling a little under-sugared and headachey by dinner, but made it through. I've heard it's the third day that knocks you on your butt, really. I was doing weight watchers before the move but I became somewhat disenchanted with the idea of continuously digitally inputting my food choices for the rest of my natural life, and weekly meetings are right out. So, South Beach it is. I've given up on trying to get Man to quit bringing ice cream and related stuff into the house since it's such a big part of his coping system. As long as I've got broccoli and mushrooms to munch on, I don't feel deprived. Yet.
But I can't really argue with caramelized onions and mushrooms in scrambled eggs for breakfast. It feels like a treat. Yesterday was onions and bell peppers in the eggs, with a big salad with broiled chicken for lunch. Dinner was more chicken with mushrooms, onions, and bean sprouts. I figured I needed to get the first week over with before school started and life really took a turn for the busy.
Who knows? I tried moderate carb last summer and lost 20 pounds... but only with the use of Alli, a fat blocker. So the weight came right back when I quit taking the pills despite continued moderate carb intake. A wee spot of Googling has informed me that insulin resistance, as diagnosed by my dietician, is also known as metabolic syndrome, Syndrome X, or pre-diabetes. Yeah. No strokes or heart attacks for this girl.
Now I need to start putting food storage by that has whole wheat products instead of the normal white. Which is more $$$ but then, strokes and bypass surgery can be pricey as well. And apnea is already expensive, not to mention Lane Bryant clothing and my back hurts. So, that's enough of that.
Man is looking at training through a program called LeaderQuest. The VA will pay for the training. He's been to at least three job fairs in the last month and hasn't gotten a single phone call despite the federal resume building classes. He's gone through vocational rehabilitation to try to find a job and nary a nibble. So, when he starts this training we'll be working with his disability check, a stipend from voc-rehab and unemployment benefits. All three of those should get us by, as long as we're pretty careful. The end result of these training courses will be all of the certs he needs to get a job in computers... or, at least that's what they're telling us. Regardless, I have 6-10 months to get my certification with some fairly good job potential. His training is supposed to take about four months, so he'll have two months to look for a job before I start looking. I'm trying not to feel depressed about the whole situation.
Tag is now in scouts, so we're working on that stuff and his Faith in God program. Princess also has Faith in God, but the requirements for both of them are the same. I've got it figured that we can do all of the Faith in God stuff this summer pretty easily, and then we can knock out his whole Bobcat, a good chunk of his Wolf, and at least one arrow of light before Tag heads back to school. In the fall Princess wants to do volleyball and Tag wants to do soccer. He had so much fun with basketball that he may do that after soccer season as well. Between Man's new callings (assistant scout master + young men's second counselor) and mine (assistant Webelos leader), Tag's scouts, Princess' activity girls, and the potential for each of them to have a sport complete with Saturday games, and my school starting next week, I'm feeling a little queasy.
Pebbles is learning to read one baby step at a time. Freida inexplicably has the whole alphabet memorized and can recognize most letters even upside down. We honestly have no idea how that happened or whether it will lend itself to reading.
Oh, and I've started the South Beach Phase 1 yesterday. Day one wasn't too bad. I was feeling a little under-sugared and headachey by dinner, but made it through. I've heard it's the third day that knocks you on your butt, really. I was doing weight watchers before the move but I became somewhat disenchanted with the idea of continuously digitally inputting my food choices for the rest of my natural life, and weekly meetings are right out. So, South Beach it is. I've given up on trying to get Man to quit bringing ice cream and related stuff into the house since it's such a big part of his coping system. As long as I've got broccoli and mushrooms to munch on, I don't feel deprived. Yet.
But I can't really argue with caramelized onions and mushrooms in scrambled eggs for breakfast. It feels like a treat. Yesterday was onions and bell peppers in the eggs, with a big salad with broiled chicken for lunch. Dinner was more chicken with mushrooms, onions, and bean sprouts. I figured I needed to get the first week over with before school started and life really took a turn for the busy.
Who knows? I tried moderate carb last summer and lost 20 pounds... but only with the use of Alli, a fat blocker. So the weight came right back when I quit taking the pills despite continued moderate carb intake. A wee spot of Googling has informed me that insulin resistance, as diagnosed by my dietician, is also known as metabolic syndrome, Syndrome X, or pre-diabetes. Yeah. No strokes or heart attacks for this girl.
Now I need to start putting food storage by that has whole wheat products instead of the normal white. Which is more $$$ but then, strokes and bypass surgery can be pricey as well. And apnea is already expensive, not to mention Lane Bryant clothing and my back hurts. So, that's enough of that.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
a woman's worth
I was watching a documentary on a woman's image in advertizing, called Killing Me Softly.
Tag came over and enthusiastically exclaimed that "women are not all about beauty! Beauty isn't everything."
At this point I said "that's right!" and I was reaching out to hug him with feminist joy when he continued:
"Like Sonic says, it's all about speed!"
I laughed so hard at this point, even as he concluded:
"It's not about beauty or speed, it's about fun!"
Ah, my son. My eight year old son. How simple life was back then.
Tag came over and enthusiastically exclaimed that "women are not all about beauty! Beauty isn't everything."
At this point I said "that's right!" and I was reaching out to hug him with feminist joy when he continued:
"Like Sonic says, it's all about speed!"
I laughed so hard at this point, even as he concluded:
"It's not about beauty or speed, it's about fun!"
Ah, my son. My eight year old son. How simple life was back then.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
chicken soup in a jar
Link to my first dinner in a jar.
Which wasn't in a jar. I was just trying it out before I committed any jars to it.
Which wasn't in a jar. I was just trying it out before I committed any jars to it.
The price of cooking from scratch
Going out to eat is expensive, and that's all there is to it. We never go out expecting to save money over cooking at home, so that's not what this is about.
When cooking at home, there are different levels of economy to which one may aspire, with of course a cost/benefit analysis that one must consider when purchasing quality ingredients. How much is organic worth? How much does it really save me to buy dry beans when I have to spend many hours of energy and water preparing them, as opposed to cans of beans that cost more but are both still quite cheap and much easier to cook with?
When it comes down to it, the difference between a can of organic beans vs a sack of dried beans is quite huge, but I find myself wedged in a world of penny pinching.
I just bought this book:
Dinner is in the jar.
It's a great little book and I find myself interested in a good percentage of the recipes. I sat and did some math and found that one of the meals, I believe it was chili, would cost a little over $12 to assemble the whole jar of food (dried mushrooms, dried bell peppers, tvp, etc). The jar makes roughly 15 cups of food, a quantity that would feed my family twice with one or two lunches left over. I found myself crunching numbers of fresh vs frozen vs dehydrated vs freeze dried peppers and cans of dried mushrooms vs those little cans of stewed mushrooms and I realized that I'm taking this whole thing way too seriously.
It's food storage! Does it have to give me maximum food savings in order to be worth the time and effort? Does it have to yield absolute efficiency with zero waste in the form of long-term yummy insurance in order to give me some peace of mind?
So, with the exception of a couple of rewrites (like tiny cans of tomato paste instead of tomato powder, because, what the heck?? tomato powder??) I'm going for it.
After Tag gets baptized this Saturday. :D
When cooking at home, there are different levels of economy to which one may aspire, with of course a cost/benefit analysis that one must consider when purchasing quality ingredients. How much is organic worth? How much does it really save me to buy dry beans when I have to spend many hours of energy and water preparing them, as opposed to cans of beans that cost more but are both still quite cheap and much easier to cook with?
When it comes down to it, the difference between a can of organic beans vs a sack of dried beans is quite huge, but I find myself wedged in a world of penny pinching.
I just bought this book:
Dinner is in the jar.
It's a great little book and I find myself interested in a good percentage of the recipes. I sat and did some math and found that one of the meals, I believe it was chili, would cost a little over $12 to assemble the whole jar of food (dried mushrooms, dried bell peppers, tvp, etc). The jar makes roughly 15 cups of food, a quantity that would feed my family twice with one or two lunches left over. I found myself crunching numbers of fresh vs frozen vs dehydrated vs freeze dried peppers and cans of dried mushrooms vs those little cans of stewed mushrooms and I realized that I'm taking this whole thing way too seriously.
It's food storage! Does it have to give me maximum food savings in order to be worth the time and effort? Does it have to yield absolute efficiency with zero waste in the form of long-term yummy insurance in order to give me some peace of mind?
So, with the exception of a couple of rewrites (like tiny cans of tomato paste instead of tomato powder, because, what the heck?? tomato powder??) I'm going for it.
After Tag gets baptized this Saturday. :D
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
pictures
Warning, if you click on any of these, they're huge unless you have a browser which automatically sizes the pic. Man's nephew, Paul, took these pics today. I'll link his website once he tweaks it a bit.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Faceblogging
I realized some time in the past few months that the reason I don't blog as much is that those bitty bites that get posted on Facebook somehow scratch my sharing itch.
So, I'll start to cross post for those friends and family to elect not to participate in such websites.
Alison Krauss soothes my soul.
So, I'll start to cross post for those friends and family to elect not to participate in such websites.
Alison Krauss soothes my soul.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Embroidered egg shells
This is from Facebook a while back. Names have been obscured to protect the guilty.
Flippin' embroidery on egg shells. Why does this outrage me so much? Next we'll be discussing how we can gild spider webs for that understated elegance that makes attics warm and inviting.
Here's a conversation my friend Brian and I had about these eggs.
**A: I almost had a stroke when I saw this project. Poor Man had to listen to me holler "never never never!" a couple of times in response to this utterly ridiculous project.
**B - Why "never never never"?
**A - Really? Sewing on an eggshell? Shoot me now. Maybe I havn't been very public about my recent wrastlings [sic] with the fiber arts.
Just... just shoot me before I ever attempt this project.
**B - I don't know... In school they had us do threading projects like this all the time. Granted, it wasn't on egg shells, but I'm failing to see how egg shells turns a rather ordinary craft into something that is worse than death. Maybe I was born from an egg... ???
**A - Working with eggshells is extremely difficult. They are sturdy little guys, sure, but playing with rough edges on an egg shell is just asking for disaster. Pulling a thread tight on a hole is a crack waiting to happen. And after you spend hours making these things cute, what do you do with them? Take pictures for the interwebs and try not to cry when your kids "just wanna see" and they end up in a pile of shards and floss and broken dreams of cute mommy blogs where everything glows in immortal, pixelated glory.
Maybe I've been traumatized by my dogged persistence in trying to make some crafts work out despite the reality that delicate materials tend to perish in my man hands. Maybe I have white, housewife guilt because I'm capable neither of decorating my home nor of making elegant handicrafts. Perhaps I just tremble with my compulsive desire to approximate my smaller scale, more refined sisters and their single frame successes. Maybe this project represents the hours and money I've poured into attempting to make similarly inane pieces of homey expression as effigies of domestic felicity, because my efforts to create that same felicity in relationships has been such a monumental struggle.
And now you've done it, Brian. You've tapped into my reservoir of shame, shaped and filled to overflowing by hopeless Christian aspirations toward perfection, my racial achievement culture including the hyper-hip and coastal power earners, and the need to deserve my place in this country despite obesity, pimples, my uncanny ability to have sweaty palms even in the dead of winter, and the fact that I've never had an Asian boyfriend. So, for that, THANKS.
(Actually, this has been an interesting foray into some creative writing. Thanks for that, man.)
**B - Oh. I just thought maybe you had a thing where eggs grossed you out.
The lady in the blog DID say that not even a single crack formed while drilling the little holes. Maybe she just had more Asian boyfriends than you.
**A - I almost blew half chewed apple out my nose. I am so fake-outraged that you would throw that in my face.
(My note: after reading this exchange, Man said that I should write more for the masses that are normal, like me, rather than pretend perfect, like the Stepford blogging mommies who would freaking embroider egg shells. From him, that's a huge compliment.)
Embroidery on egg shells
by Annie H on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 at 12:26pm
Here's a conversation my friend Brian and I had about these eggs.
**A: I almost had a stroke when I saw this project. Poor Man had to listen to me holler "never never never!" a couple of times in response to this utterly ridiculous project.
**B - Why "never never never"?
**A - Really? Sewing on an eggshell? Shoot me now. Maybe I havn't been very public about my recent wrastlings [sic] with the fiber arts.
Just... just shoot me before I ever attempt this project.
**B - I don't know... In school they had us do threading projects like this all the time. Granted, it wasn't on egg shells, but I'm failing to see how egg shells turns a rather ordinary craft into something that is worse than death. Maybe I was born from an egg... ???
**A - Working with eggshells is extremely difficult. They are sturdy little guys, sure, but playing with rough edges on an egg shell is just asking for disaster. Pulling a thread tight on a hole is a crack waiting to happen. And after you spend hours making these things cute, what do you do with them? Take pictures for the interwebs and try not to cry when your kids "just wanna see" and they end up in a pile of shards and floss and broken dreams of cute mommy blogs where everything glows in immortal, pixelated glory.
Maybe I've been traumatized by my dogged persistence in trying to make some crafts work out despite the reality that delicate materials tend to perish in my man hands. Maybe I have white, housewife guilt because I'm capable neither of decorating my home nor of making elegant handicrafts. Perhaps I just tremble with my compulsive desire to approximate my smaller scale, more refined sisters and their single frame successes. Maybe this project represents the hours and money I've poured into attempting to make similarly inane pieces of homey expression as effigies of domestic felicity, because my efforts to create that same felicity in relationships has been such a monumental struggle.
And now you've done it, Brian. You've tapped into my reservoir of shame, shaped and filled to overflowing by hopeless Christian aspirations toward perfection, my racial achievement culture including the hyper-hip and coastal power earners, and the need to deserve my place in this country despite obesity, pimples, my uncanny ability to have sweaty palms even in the dead of winter, and the fact that I've never had an Asian boyfriend. So, for that, THANKS.
(Actually, this has been an interesting foray into some creative writing. Thanks for that, man.)
**B - Oh. I just thought maybe you had a thing where eggs grossed you out.
The lady in the blog DID say that not even a single crack formed while drilling the little holes. Maybe she just had more Asian boyfriends than you.
**A - I almost blew half chewed apple out my nose. I am so fake-outraged that you would throw that in my face.
(My note: after reading this exchange, Man said that I should write more for the masses that are normal, like me, rather than pretend perfect, like the Stepford blogging mommies who would freaking embroider egg shells. From him, that's a huge compliment.)
cart stalking
I admit it:
I just spent about 15 minutes going through the coupon clippers website, carefully selecting coupons for my desired products and in carefully considered quantities. Then closed the tab and walked away.
Then I spent about 30 minutes putting together outfits from the Coldwater Creek outlet website. One was a nice skirt/sweater combo in blue, another in purple. And a fabulously beautiful tshirt in gorgeous greens. Then I closed the tab and walked away.
My Amazon wishlist is getting a little out of hand, but only because I actually have an account there and closing the tab doesn't erase my cart.
Don't even get me started on the thousands of dollars worth of dreams I've shuffled in and out of my Webstraurant cart.
It's funny how idle dreams don't always spur me to acquisition.
What sorts of sites do you cart stalk?
I just spent about 15 minutes going through the coupon clippers website, carefully selecting coupons for my desired products and in carefully considered quantities. Then closed the tab and walked away.
Then I spent about 30 minutes putting together outfits from the Coldwater Creek outlet website. One was a nice skirt/sweater combo in blue, another in purple. And a fabulously beautiful tshirt in gorgeous greens. Then I closed the tab and walked away.
My Amazon wishlist is getting a little out of hand, but only because I actually have an account there and closing the tab doesn't erase my cart.
Don't even get me started on the thousands of dollars worth of dreams I've shuffled in and out of my Webstraurant cart.
It's funny how idle dreams don't always spur me to acquisition.
What sorts of sites do you cart stalk?
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Mother's Day
To this day and forever, the greatest moment I can recall in my relationship with my mother is when I called her, on this holiday ten years ago, to let her know that I was carrying an illegitimate child. Her response is something I cherish:
Mom, you're the best.
Man invited me to select a new set of silverware as a gift for mother's day. It has been some years since we bought our current set and the teaspoons and salad forks have undergone a mysterious attrition. I happily ordered a set which I had studied in minute detail over the past several weeks. And a whisk.
Today we visited the home of one of Man's sisters, where we enjoyed delicious grilled salmon and shortcake topped with fresh whipped cream and macerated strawberry/mango/rhubarb. Afterward, my sister in law, niece and I happily polished, sorted, and admired sea glass from Cuba while all of our wee children played outside on a warm, slightly breezy evening.
Of course mothers were extensively praised and thanked in every church meeting we attended today, and we were showered with chocolate and angel food cake topped with strawberries and cream.
All in all, I feel celebrated.
I met the visiting teacher (church thing, where women visit each other to foster friendship and make sure everyone is getting the love and help they need) of the lady who owns the home which we are renting. She fervently extolled the virtues of the dear sister who occupied this house before me, praising the tidiness with which she kept her home. Dude. No pressure.
But hey, I'm celebrated.
I will always love you.
Mom, you're the best.
Man invited me to select a new set of silverware as a gift for mother's day. It has been some years since we bought our current set and the teaspoons and salad forks have undergone a mysterious attrition. I happily ordered a set which I had studied in minute detail over the past several weeks. And a whisk.
Today we visited the home of one of Man's sisters, where we enjoyed delicious grilled salmon and shortcake topped with fresh whipped cream and macerated strawberry/mango/rhubarb. Afterward, my sister in law, niece and I happily polished, sorted, and admired sea glass from Cuba while all of our wee children played outside on a warm, slightly breezy evening.
Of course mothers were extensively praised and thanked in every church meeting we attended today, and we were showered with chocolate and angel food cake topped with strawberries and cream.
All in all, I feel celebrated.
I met the visiting teacher (church thing, where women visit each other to foster friendship and make sure everyone is getting the love and help they need) of the lady who owns the home which we are renting. She fervently extolled the virtues of the dear sister who occupied this house before me, praising the tidiness with which she kept her home. Dude. No pressure.
But hey, I'm celebrated.
Monday, May 02, 2011
A rant, copied from Facebook
Just shush. No, really, SHOOSH!!
by Annie H on Monday, May 2, 2011 at 10:53am
Oh, the conspiracy theories, assumptions, and stick up your butt suspicions about politicians of every stripe and creed! Don't you realize that for every point of conspiracy you fabricate you only add to the number of lies in the universe? You think you are so wise that you can see through a media portrayal of a situation for which you have no special intelligence beyond your own pride. Internet! Really! I don't care if you think that they sliced Bin Laden from neck to navel and found a mini Jimmy Hoffa quietly constructing a dirty nuke out of unobtanium! You're not helping by making more lies.
The only reason you're puking these abominations is to make yourself sound savvy, jaded, and just slightly more in the know than any other American who has access to exactly the same information you do. You think you've merely had a brilliant epiphany, made the rare connection, and totally Da Vinci Coded the American Government. You don't even understand the American government, let alone the motives and imminent reactions of a culture which you've never bothered to study!
Let me tell you something that your parents may have tried to pound into your skull while you were still an adolescent: no one cares about your opinions nearly as much as you do, especially when they are based on noxious vapor. The only people who will agree with you without question are called toadies, and for good reason. They want to ride the coattails of what they perceive as great wisdom and insight, and they want to be hip enough to say later "I told you so" to pathetic unbelievers who might have been among the elite who knew, if only they had listened to your tripe in the first place. They make heuristic analyses where you are the main source of information and you use their sycophantic fawning as confirmation that you are a flippin' Nostradamus.
Well, congratulations. You feel so good about yourself, spouting off your assumptions in a public forum where arguments are safe as long as you use enough CAPS and buzz words from obscure political ideologies to make the rude dissenters finally walk away in disgust. Bravo.
Now, shut up. Really.
The only reason you're puking these abominations is to make yourself sound savvy, jaded, and just slightly more in the know than any other American who has access to exactly the same information you do. You think you've merely had a brilliant epiphany, made the rare connection, and totally Da Vinci Coded the American Government. You don't even understand the American government, let alone the motives and imminent reactions of a culture which you've never bothered to study!
Let me tell you something that your parents may have tried to pound into your skull while you were still an adolescent: no one cares about your opinions nearly as much as you do, especially when they are based on noxious vapor. The only people who will agree with you without question are called toadies, and for good reason. They want to ride the coattails of what they perceive as great wisdom and insight, and they want to be hip enough to say later "I told you so" to pathetic unbelievers who might have been among the elite who knew, if only they had listened to your tripe in the first place. They make heuristic analyses where you are the main source of information and you use their sycophantic fawning as confirmation that you are a flippin' Nostradamus.
Well, congratulations. You feel so good about yourself, spouting off your assumptions in a public forum where arguments are safe as long as you use enough CAPS and buzz words from obscure political ideologies to make the rude dissenters finally walk away in disgust. Bravo.
Now, shut up. Really.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
We've arrived
The house is marvelous. It's in the upper end of our price range, but well worth it. The owners are obviously conscientious with smart improvements all over the place. The wood floors on the main level appear to be that self install stuff from Costco, most of the main rooms have a personal touch to the paint (in most cases most definitely not what I would have chosen, but it shows a deep care in the property nonetheless since specific texturing techniques were applied), among a number of other little tweaks here and there. A shed outside contains many cans of touch up paint and property maintenance supplies. Half barrels and carefully trimmed rose bushes outside, and the lingering scent of candles in one kitchen cupboard give mute evidence that aesthetics mattered here.
So we've littered the place with boxes, both filled with our belongings and recently emptied of pizza. We toiled all yesterday afternoon and today to begin fitting our home into this house, wondering over and over again why we have so much stuff. My shoulder began to ache again, as is its wont when I am experiencing great stress. It sometimes renders my arm numb if left to its own devices. I'm awake now having attempted to sleep with that ache unchallenged, waiting with blogging and Cityville (a game in facebook) for ibuprofen to make it possible to sleep. Princess came to see me earlier this evening and I mentioned my shoulder pain to her. Her face looked tragic and she exclaimed "not you, too!"
Moving losses so far: one electric griddle which snapped under the weight of a toaster oven and various other kitchen-type things. One candy thermometer, un-used. :( Some damage to my beloved stand mixer. And one box that has simply vanished from the Earth. More losses to come, surely, as these packers have been our worst by far. Nice guys, with great customer service as far as smiles and howdy-do's go, but wretched organization which labeled two rooms' worth of items as "girls' room", "den" became the room where all boxes and furniture went to live when Man's back was turned or someone hadn't bothered to check one of the room label boxes printed right on the side of the flippin' box (my poor craft room,which I'm overwhelmingly lucky to have, is bursting at the seams), and several "last minute boxes" have an assortment of items each worthy of a hoarders favorite junk drawer based on their eclectic nature alone since the first wave of packers couldn't be bothered to finish the job despite knocking off for the day quite early and leaving all of the rest of the packing to the loaders, who couldn't be bothered to bring any "just in case" boxes.
Ok, Annie, take a breath.
I've got some ideas on how to make my kitchen fit into this kitchen, utilizing some free standing plastic drawers and one of the shelves that won't fit into the den, but this place is seriously lacking in drawers. Three small and two medium mean that most of my utensils are homeless and laid bare on the counter, waiting for my decree to see them safely nestled in a resting place where Man, the official dish put-awayer, will never remember to put them until shortly before we move again. I intend to label my free standing organizing solutions to within an inch of their lives.
Mostly I miss having a pantry option right off of my kitchen. We had converted a linen closet into a pantry in the last house, and now we'll have to make do with one corner pocket lazy Susan (which seems to be a ubiquitous feature in these Colorado homes. I think there was one in every home through which we walked) and one cabinet. Other than that, we have Raul in the craft room (which is where my shiny boyfriend belongs, thankyouveddymuch), shelves we've squeezed into the laundry room, and the half of a garage where we'd eventually like to put a second car. It looks like bed risers are our food storage option du jour, which we won't really be gathering in earnest until we actually buy a house anyways, so it's not a huge loss.
Snow has been scheduled for my beautiful city for the next two days.
And now my motrin seems to be working. I'm going to top it off with some tylenol and see what sort of sleep I can get tonight. Tag wants to go up and down the street meeting the neighbors tomorrow and it wouldn't do to look like an ill hag for that first impression.
So we've littered the place with boxes, both filled with our belongings and recently emptied of pizza. We toiled all yesterday afternoon and today to begin fitting our home into this house, wondering over and over again why we have so much stuff. My shoulder began to ache again, as is its wont when I am experiencing great stress. It sometimes renders my arm numb if left to its own devices. I'm awake now having attempted to sleep with that ache unchallenged, waiting with blogging and Cityville (a game in facebook) for ibuprofen to make it possible to sleep. Princess came to see me earlier this evening and I mentioned my shoulder pain to her. Her face looked tragic and she exclaimed "not you, too!"
Moving losses so far: one electric griddle which snapped under the weight of a toaster oven and various other kitchen-type things. One candy thermometer, un-used. :( Some damage to my beloved stand mixer. And one box that has simply vanished from the Earth. More losses to come, surely, as these packers have been our worst by far. Nice guys, with great customer service as far as smiles and howdy-do's go, but wretched organization which labeled two rooms' worth of items as "girls' room", "den" became the room where all boxes and furniture went to live when Man's back was turned or someone hadn't bothered to check one of the room label boxes printed right on the side of the flippin' box (my poor craft room,which I'm overwhelmingly lucky to have, is bursting at the seams), and several "last minute boxes" have an assortment of items each worthy of a hoarders favorite junk drawer based on their eclectic nature alone since the first wave of packers couldn't be bothered to finish the job despite knocking off for the day quite early and leaving all of the rest of the packing to the loaders, who couldn't be bothered to bring any "just in case" boxes.
Ok, Annie, take a breath.
I've got some ideas on how to make my kitchen fit into this kitchen, utilizing some free standing plastic drawers and one of the shelves that won't fit into the den, but this place is seriously lacking in drawers. Three small and two medium mean that most of my utensils are homeless and laid bare on the counter, waiting for my decree to see them safely nestled in a resting place where Man, the official dish put-awayer, will never remember to put them until shortly before we move again. I intend to label my free standing organizing solutions to within an inch of their lives.
Mostly I miss having a pantry option right off of my kitchen. We had converted a linen closet into a pantry in the last house, and now we'll have to make do with one corner pocket lazy Susan (which seems to be a ubiquitous feature in these Colorado homes. I think there was one in every home through which we walked) and one cabinet. Other than that, we have Raul in the craft room (which is where my shiny boyfriend belongs, thankyouveddymuch), shelves we've squeezed into the laundry room, and the half of a garage where we'd eventually like to put a second car. It looks like bed risers are our food storage option du jour, which we won't really be gathering in earnest until we actually buy a house anyways, so it's not a huge loss.
Snow has been scheduled for my beautiful city for the next two days.
And now my motrin seems to be working. I'm going to top it off with some tylenol and see what sort of sleep I can get tonight. Tag wants to go up and down the street meeting the neighbors tomorrow and it wouldn't do to look like an ill hag for that first impression.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
House hunting
Where to begin.
The housing inspection went pretty well, except they charged us $500 for one room's worth of carpet replacement. Any guesses on which room? The carpeted dining area, the only area in the house designed as an eating space. Idiots.
The drive out to the Midwest was a lot more sane this time around, with a hotel to break up the long drive from MD to IL. We had a great visit with one of Man's sisters and her son.
My most difficult goodbye yet came in Kansas. It took a lot of effort to not bawl over, once again, driving away from a family I love so much.
I'm so grateful that the trip was boring. The most eventful event was finding a shocked and lost mother in the restroom of a restaurant, faced with her two month old baby's first ever diaper blowout. I offered help as she numbly stared at what her son had wrought in his shorts, showing her how to roll the back of his clothes to get them off without getting his whole body dirty. Hehe. Poor lady has no idea that it only gets worse in the diaper department until that glorious day when he becomes potty trained.
Anyway, our first day of house hunting was rather promising. We had a bunch of leads and liked two homes for sure. We'll head out again tomorrow morning to do more house tours before putting in applications.
We stopped by Ft Carson to get a bead on what resources are available here for wounded warriors and the spread is extensive. Man even got a tip for a bunch of job openings that somehow involve computers, and it's a GS11 position. We're hoping and praying that something works out soon.
As it is, I'm shocked that I'm not panicking. No job, no home, and greatly reduced paychecks after July. Ack! Maybe I'm in shock. Maybe the last 10 years have traumatized me so much that my capacity to feel in these situations has been diminished. Whatevs.
More house hunting tomorrow and then we bend all efforts to the job search. Pray for us.
The housing inspection went pretty well, except they charged us $500 for one room's worth of carpet replacement. Any guesses on which room? The carpeted dining area, the only area in the house designed as an eating space. Idiots.
The drive out to the Midwest was a lot more sane this time around, with a hotel to break up the long drive from MD to IL. We had a great visit with one of Man's sisters and her son.
My most difficult goodbye yet came in Kansas. It took a lot of effort to not bawl over, once again, driving away from a family I love so much.
I'm so grateful that the trip was boring. The most eventful event was finding a shocked and lost mother in the restroom of a restaurant, faced with her two month old baby's first ever diaper blowout. I offered help as she numbly stared at what her son had wrought in his shorts, showing her how to roll the back of his clothes to get them off without getting his whole body dirty. Hehe. Poor lady has no idea that it only gets worse in the diaper department until that glorious day when he becomes potty trained.
Anyway, our first day of house hunting was rather promising. We had a bunch of leads and liked two homes for sure. We'll head out again tomorrow morning to do more house tours before putting in applications.
We stopped by Ft Carson to get a bead on what resources are available here for wounded warriors and the spread is extensive. Man even got a tip for a bunch of job openings that somehow involve computers, and it's a GS11 position. We're hoping and praying that something works out soon.
As it is, I'm shocked that I'm not panicking. No job, no home, and greatly reduced paychecks after July. Ack! Maybe I'm in shock. Maybe the last 10 years have traumatized me so much that my capacity to feel in these situations has been diminished. Whatevs.
More house hunting tomorrow and then we bend all efforts to the job search. Pray for us.
Saturday, April 09, 2011
Saying goodbye is hard to do
Gosh, I love my friends. They come in all shapes and sizes, in all colors and creeds. They all share a few traits: humor, intelligence, and kindness. I've recently enjoyed the company of one friend who moved all the way across the continent to come see me again (the Crusty Cupcake family). I've enjoyed the company of friends who followed us all the way from California, with one little detour along the way (Rochelle, Brian, and their sweet children). Friends here have been kind and wonderful and helped us limp through a tumultuous year.
And now we move on to yet another city and new friends, continuing to enjoy the friends we now leave behind in a geographical sense.
The packers come on Monday and I still have a bunch of crap to get done. We'll weigh the van after the trip. Some good news is that Man's promotion right before his retirement means that we have a 9,000 pound weight allowance, inside of which we'll rattle.
So now we just have to pack the van and frickin' figure out where we'll live. My uncle was kind enough to scope out a neighborhood we've had out e-eyes on for a while, with a very promising report. Our real eyes checked out a few other neighborhoods over Christmas break but we didn't reach any conclusions.
So, without internet for a few weeks, I bid you a hearty "see you soon, friends." We'll be unplugged beginning Monday morning, which includes our landline. All communication will have to go through our cell phones until we get plugged in again, whereupon our current numbers will still be valid thanks to Google Voice.
Any prayers you'd like to send our way with fond wishes for finding a house soon would be most appreciated.
And now we move on to yet another city and new friends, continuing to enjoy the friends we now leave behind in a geographical sense.
The packers come on Monday and I still have a bunch of crap to get done. We'll weigh the van after the trip. Some good news is that Man's promotion right before his retirement means that we have a 9,000 pound weight allowance, inside of which we'll rattle.
So now we just have to pack the van and frickin' figure out where we'll live. My uncle was kind enough to scope out a neighborhood we've had out e-eyes on for a while, with a very promising report. Our real eyes checked out a few other neighborhoods over Christmas break but we didn't reach any conclusions.
So, without internet for a few weeks, I bid you a hearty "see you soon, friends." We'll be unplugged beginning Monday morning, which includes our landline. All communication will have to go through our cell phones until we get plugged in again, whereupon our current numbers will still be valid thanks to Google Voice.
Any prayers you'd like to send our way with fond wishes for finding a house soon would be most appreciated.
Friday, April 08, 2011
Chocolate and almonds
It's getting hot and heavy over at my product review blog (wherein I whine about or praise some interesting finds)
Almonds. And chocolate. Oooooooooo......
Almonds. And chocolate. Oooooooooo......
Monday, April 04, 2011
Of Oranges
Frieda is peeling an orange.
F: Mom, what's this?
Me: Pith.
F: Pith.
And that's when I remembered that she has a lisp.
F: Mom, what's this?
Me: Pith.
F: Pith.
And that's when I remembered that she has a lisp.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Weight Watchers and yogurt
I joined Weight Watchers online. I have been struggling to eat like my dietician instructed since breakfast, lunch and I are only minimally acquainted. She told me to increase my food intake earlier in the day so I don't get ravenous by dinner time. So I said "ok" and started to eat a slice of toast and a couple of eggs every day. It got soooo old. Especially since I'm so lazy about lunch, getting sandwiches and fruit for the whelp but turning my nose up at the same for myself. I started to turn to canned soup to get something in my belly, but those efforts still left me starving by evening.
I finally decided to begin from the basics. Please, oh Great Weight Watchers where old ladies yammer on about points and brownies and guilt, tell me how to feed myself that I may have relatively even blood sugar, yea verily even blood sugar that will keep me in good temper and good health.
I figured online was a better way to go given that events like this with a strong social element tend to get very old for me. And I was stunned to find that I am terrible at feeding myself.
I mean, I knew I didn't feed myself. But this was stunning.
I decided from the outset to evenly distribute my points across the whole day, just like the nutritionist prescribed. That first morning I ate jicama, eggs, and toast and typed it into the program. It was only 6 points out of 49. Then I added an orange, a string cheese, and finally half of an avocado. I was stuffed and I moaned about what I was going to do about lunch.
Lunch was another orange, a burger without the bun, almonds and olives. Once again, I was full. Dinner was chili, almonds, and a slice of sugar free cake.
I wasn't hungry one single time all day long.
This trend has continued for the last two and a half weeks. The only time I've been hungry was the day Man and I ran errands and I forgot to eat lunch. I had no idea that learning how to eat appropriately didn't involve being hungry. I was hungry through all of high school and it made me thin. Is it a shock that, 4 babies and several bouts with depression later, I've got some extra weight?
Total weightloss so far is 3 pounds, which is appropriate for two weeks of measuring. I've stepped up gym time as well since I have so much gosh darned energy. I'm more patient with the kids now that my insulin resistance isn't ruling my moods as much. WW even reminds me to take my multi and drink bunches of water, and to include plenty of veggies and fruits and good oils in my diet. Who knew? I might even learn how to style my hair after this triumph of personal care.
Now on to yogurt. This lady has a new recipe on her blog for homemade yogurt. I've looked through lots of resources that describe yogurt making machines and other horrifying measures to make what's essentially milk riddled with tons of bacteria. This new recipe involves nothing more fancy than a crockpot and a bit of your time, and it uses powdered milk. A lot of people who store powdered milk don't know what to do with the stuff besides bake with it. I've managed to expand my use into breakfast breads (eg pancakes and French toast), hot cocoa mix, and smoothies. This new application uses two quarts of reconstituted milk, plus more powder for extra milk solids (which is about a scant 3 cups of non-instant powder).
I started the yogurt last night so it could do its voodoo whilst I slept so I wouldn't peek at it every half an hour to make sure crazy things weren't happening in there. I thought about hitting snooze three times like normal but then remembered my shrouded crockpot in the kitchen. I ran on over and stabbed at the smooth white surface in my crockpot with a spoon and heavens to Betsy there was yogurt in there! It even tastes like yogurt! And I'm not sick yet from sampling it! It's now chilling in my fridge, a semi-solid quivering mass of milky-white pro-biotic goodness, just waiting for whatever the heck I'm going to do with two quarts of the stuff. I think it's going to have to be naan, and.... I dunno. I'll think of something.
I finally decided to begin from the basics. Please, oh Great Weight Watchers where old ladies yammer on about points and brownies and guilt, tell me how to feed myself that I may have relatively even blood sugar, yea verily even blood sugar that will keep me in good temper and good health.
I figured online was a better way to go given that events like this with a strong social element tend to get very old for me. And I was stunned to find that I am terrible at feeding myself.
I mean, I knew I didn't feed myself. But this was stunning.
I decided from the outset to evenly distribute my points across the whole day, just like the nutritionist prescribed. That first morning I ate jicama, eggs, and toast and typed it into the program. It was only 6 points out of 49. Then I added an orange, a string cheese, and finally half of an avocado. I was stuffed and I moaned about what I was going to do about lunch.
Lunch was another orange, a burger without the bun, almonds and olives. Once again, I was full. Dinner was chili, almonds, and a slice of sugar free cake.
I wasn't hungry one single time all day long.
This trend has continued for the last two and a half weeks. The only time I've been hungry was the day Man and I ran errands and I forgot to eat lunch. I had no idea that learning how to eat appropriately didn't involve being hungry. I was hungry through all of high school and it made me thin. Is it a shock that, 4 babies and several bouts with depression later, I've got some extra weight?
Total weightloss so far is 3 pounds, which is appropriate for two weeks of measuring. I've stepped up gym time as well since I have so much gosh darned energy. I'm more patient with the kids now that my insulin resistance isn't ruling my moods as much. WW even reminds me to take my multi and drink bunches of water, and to include plenty of veggies and fruits and good oils in my diet. Who knew? I might even learn how to style my hair after this triumph of personal care.
Now on to yogurt. This lady has a new recipe on her blog for homemade yogurt. I've looked through lots of resources that describe yogurt making machines and other horrifying measures to make what's essentially milk riddled with tons of bacteria. This new recipe involves nothing more fancy than a crockpot and a bit of your time, and it uses powdered milk. A lot of people who store powdered milk don't know what to do with the stuff besides bake with it. I've managed to expand my use into breakfast breads (eg pancakes and French toast), hot cocoa mix, and smoothies. This new application uses two quarts of reconstituted milk, plus more powder for extra milk solids (which is about a scant 3 cups of non-instant powder).
I started the yogurt last night so it could do its voodoo whilst I slept so I wouldn't peek at it every half an hour to make sure crazy things weren't happening in there. I thought about hitting snooze three times like normal but then remembered my shrouded crockpot in the kitchen. I ran on over and stabbed at the smooth white surface in my crockpot with a spoon and heavens to Betsy there was yogurt in there! It even tastes like yogurt! And I'm not sick yet from sampling it! It's now chilling in my fridge, a semi-solid quivering mass of milky-white pro-biotic goodness, just waiting for whatever the heck I'm going to do with two quarts of the stuff. I think it's going to have to be naan, and.... I dunno. I'll think of something.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Hair cut
F: Mom! I want to play a game on the tee-bee!
Me: No, honey, you have great toys! Go play.
F: Noooooo!!!
[Wailing, sadness, distress]
So then I went to go pick up her sister and friend (same person) from Pre-K.
Pebbles: Mom, I want to play a game on the tv.
Me: No, you have great toys. Go play.
Pebbles: [thoughtful look and a grin] Ok!
Results? Behold:
I forgot to take a before picture but it was bad. Her bangs were almost buzzed, the whole left side was chopped to bits. I took her in today to get it cleaned up and we first went with an asymmetrical bob but then it looked more like a mistake than fashion on a 3 year old. So we went with a traditional pixie. It was a bit shocking at first but it's really growing on me and it makes her big eyes look even bigger. So we went out and got some sparkly headbands, some with butterflies, to up the girlie quotient on that haircut.
Favorite quote comes from Tag: Wow, I think it's beautiful like Aunt Cheryl's hair.
That melted my heart right there.
Me: No, honey, you have great toys! Go play.
F: Noooooo!!!
[Wailing, sadness, distress]
So then I went to go pick up her sister and friend (same person) from Pre-K.
Pebbles: Mom, I want to play a game on the tv.
Me: No, you have great toys. Go play.
Pebbles: [thoughtful look and a grin] Ok!
Results? Behold:
I forgot to take a before picture but it was bad. Her bangs were almost buzzed, the whole left side was chopped to bits. I took her in today to get it cleaned up and we first went with an asymmetrical bob but then it looked more like a mistake than fashion on a 3 year old. So we went with a traditional pixie. It was a bit shocking at first but it's really growing on me and it makes her big eyes look even bigger. So we went out and got some sparkly headbands, some with butterflies, to up the girlie quotient on that haircut.
Favorite quote comes from Tag: Wow, I think it's beautiful like Aunt Cheryl's hair.
That melted my heart right there.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Testing out screen shots
So, I'm way behind on tech savvy sorts of things. So I'm playing with screen shots today.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Guess who's getting promoted!
On the last day before he's retired, Man will be promoted to Sergeant! Woohoo!!
It's complicated, but because of the nature of his retirement he could eventually be reactivated but that's only if the stuff that's getting him retired resolves before Oct of 2014.
Sergeant H. He's already bought his rank patch. :D
It's complicated, but because of the nature of his retirement he could eventually be reactivated but that's only if the stuff that's getting him retired resolves before Oct of 2014.
Sergeant H. He's already bought his rank patch. :D
Monday, March 21, 2011
Fridge scrapple
Scrapple is the most questionable delight of the Pennsylvania Dutch, boiled up from "everything but the oink," mixed into a congealed loaf, and pan fried to perfection.
We've been keeping our fridge and freezer so low on food over the past few weeks that I've started calling our meals "fridge scrapple" in honor of the oink my kids make when presented with our creative fare.
An example:
Rice-a-roni (Man just had to buy two cases of the stuff at a caselot sale), 2 salmon patties, 1 fillet of tilapia, steamed cauliflower from the freezer.
Odds and ends of chicken (one breast, two breast tenderloins, two boneless thighs, one bone in thigh) cooked in the last of the bbq sauce, the remainder of our instant potato flakes, and steamed brussels sprouts from the freezer.
Steaks, roasted potatoes (the last three slightly shriveled spuds), cut up apples, steamed peas and corn from the freezer.
Breakfast one day was the last bagel, three eggs, the last two servings of Malt-o-Meal, banana chips, and two frozen turkey sausages.
Oink.
We've been keeping our fridge and freezer so low on food over the past few weeks that I've started calling our meals "fridge scrapple" in honor of the oink my kids make when presented with our creative fare.
An example:
Rice-a-roni (Man just had to buy two cases of the stuff at a caselot sale), 2 salmon patties, 1 fillet of tilapia, steamed cauliflower from the freezer.
Odds and ends of chicken (one breast, two breast tenderloins, two boneless thighs, one bone in thigh) cooked in the last of the bbq sauce, the remainder of our instant potato flakes, and steamed brussels sprouts from the freezer.
Steaks, roasted potatoes (the last three slightly shriveled spuds), cut up apples, steamed peas and corn from the freezer.
Breakfast one day was the last bagel, three eggs, the last two servings of Malt-o-Meal, banana chips, and two frozen turkey sausages.
Oink.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Why do I do things which infuriate me?
I've long wanted to make my own reusable sandwich wraps. It just seems silly to throw out a perfectly good plastic bag when I'm too lazy to wash the poor thing. Buying them on Etsy is pretty expensive ($10 per) and it looks like a fairly straightforward project with my favorite sort of straight lines.
Then, one day, I found this sandwich bag pattern: Baggie o' dreams.
What a great idea! It works just like those old baggies with the top that gets a flap folded in and then *whoosh!* you flip a pocket over the top and it's a delightful little leaky package. The lines were so clean and the fabric looked so nice that I had to give it a try.
I used the fabric I had on hand and a freezer bag from the drawer and went to town.
Here are my results:
Do yourself a favor and don't click on those photos. They're garbage because it's 1am here and I'm too tired to rig lights.
Laying flat:
Sandwich bag insides:
I measured everything with exact precision. I measured backward, forward, examined the instructions until even I, in my OCD perfectaplegic torment was satisfied that I had done it right. When the *whoosh!* flippy pocket got folded I realized that my sandwich would be more along the lines of peasant panini roadkill instead of fluffy goodness:
There was sadness, anger, and a Google search as follows: the whole thread thingy fell off of my Brother sewing machine.
Which, oddly, led me precisely to the answer I needed. Go figure. One crazy tiny allen wrench, thirty swearing minutes, and thankfully no broken needles later, I was able to finish my pathetic prize. Yah. Saving the Earth one screwed up project at a time.
But no. I was in peachcot mode and I wasn't letting this one go without a fight. So I researched. I researched materials (nylon is agreed to be the best plastic for food purposes, saving mylar's presence which I don't have. I guess I could have sacrificed for the peachcots and bought a bag of Doritoes just for its mylar but whatever) and patterns and applications and care instructions until my eyes literally crossed.
I get emails from this great website called Tipnut. Here's what they say about lunch bags and accessories.
Down in accessories, I saw #4 and knew that simplicity was what had to happen after I came this close to throwing my machine into the street. Once again, I'm being literal. Into. The. Street. (there are some potholes in front of my house)
I liked the idea but I wanted something that would at least attempt to keep juicy tomatoes to themselves.
Behold, my creation:
(repeat above disclaimer about garbage pics)
Flat with the pretty side up: I happen to love colorful daisies. Not those insipid white chaps.
The inside:
Three slices of bread, middle slice representing the cornucopia of options for sandwich fillings.
Sides folded in:
Bottom side folded up to showcase the strip of velcro (hook and pile fasteners, sorry) that help the whole thing adjust capacity:
And voila:
Work those angles, baby:
Here was the process: Iron some Stitch Witchery onto nylon rip stop. Which sucked because the adhesive seemed to soak right through the nylon. Which kind of defeats the point of using pure cotton and neutral nylon if you're just going to get cancer from the adhesive after all. Anyway, the adhesive soaked through which clung to the red cotton I used under the whole thing "just in case" (go me). You can see some of the red spots on the solid blue side. I'll have to figure that one out. Maybe iron with parchment paper underneath. And yes I tried ironing plain old nylon and, though it became misshapen on the cotton setting, it didn't melt on its own. It's definitely the interfacing.
Anyway, peel off the paper backing and then iron the rip stop onto the wrong side of your cotton. I went ahead and stitched around the edges (bead stitch) just because I don't trust things that look sturdy enough as they are (big girls never do). The velcro is in an experimental arrangement with which I'm not entirely happy.
But it'll do. And now my obsession can wane long enough for me to go back to the store and get more interfacing.
Oh, it measures 18" and I trimmed the corners off since they didn't seem necessary. The wrap doubles as a place mat. I'm going to fiddle with the whole thing some more and see if I can come up with something with which I'm really happy, and that process should net us enough wraps to have a picnic at the very least.
This rotten project has kept me up until well after pumpkin hour for me, but season 7 of Scrubs kept me company.
As painful as the whole thing has been, I still feel triumphant that I didn't spend $10 on the mat now on my dreadfully abused dining table. I can see how one might be able to "whip out" such projects after one can swiftly and with ease fix their sewing machine when the needle thingy comes loose or when one finally realizes that it's better to just buy the bolt of Stitch Witchery instead of running out after one and a half projects. Maybe, one of these days, I might try to make an article of clothing once more. Hah! I made a funny.
Holy crap I need sleep. Have a good weekend, people.
Then, one day, I found this sandwich bag pattern: Baggie o' dreams.
What a great idea! It works just like those old baggies with the top that gets a flap folded in and then *whoosh!* you flip a pocket over the top and it's a delightful little leaky package. The lines were so clean and the fabric looked so nice that I had to give it a try.
I used the fabric I had on hand and a freezer bag from the drawer and went to town.
Here are my results:
Do yourself a favor and don't click on those photos. They're garbage because it's 1am here and I'm too tired to rig lights.
Laying flat:
Sandwich bag insides:
I measured everything with exact precision. I measured backward, forward, examined the instructions until even I, in my OCD perfectaplegic torment was satisfied that I had done it right. When the *whoosh!* flippy pocket got folded I realized that my sandwich would be more along the lines of peasant panini roadkill instead of fluffy goodness:
There was sadness, anger, and a Google search as follows: the whole thread thingy fell off of my Brother sewing machine.
Which, oddly, led me precisely to the answer I needed. Go figure. One crazy tiny allen wrench, thirty swearing minutes, and thankfully no broken needles later, I was able to finish my pathetic prize. Yah. Saving the Earth one screwed up project at a time.
But no. I was in peachcot mode and I wasn't letting this one go without a fight. So I researched. I researched materials (nylon is agreed to be the best plastic for food purposes, saving mylar's presence which I don't have. I guess I could have sacrificed for the peachcots and bought a bag of Doritoes just for its mylar but whatever) and patterns and applications and care instructions until my eyes literally crossed.
I get emails from this great website called Tipnut. Here's what they say about lunch bags and accessories.
Down in accessories, I saw #4 and knew that simplicity was what had to happen after I came this close to throwing my machine into the street. Once again, I'm being literal. Into. The. Street. (there are some potholes in front of my house)
I liked the idea but I wanted something that would at least attempt to keep juicy tomatoes to themselves.
Behold, my creation:
(repeat above disclaimer about garbage pics)
Flat with the pretty side up: I happen to love colorful daisies. Not those insipid white chaps.
The inside:
Three slices of bread, middle slice representing the cornucopia of options for sandwich fillings.
Sides folded in:
Bottom side folded up to showcase the strip of velcro (hook and pile fasteners, sorry) that help the whole thing adjust capacity:
And voila:
Work those angles, baby:
Here was the process: Iron some Stitch Witchery onto nylon rip stop. Which sucked because the adhesive seemed to soak right through the nylon. Which kind of defeats the point of using pure cotton and neutral nylon if you're just going to get cancer from the adhesive after all. Anyway, the adhesive soaked through which clung to the red cotton I used under the whole thing "just in case" (go me). You can see some of the red spots on the solid blue side. I'll have to figure that one out. Maybe iron with parchment paper underneath. And yes I tried ironing plain old nylon and, though it became misshapen on the cotton setting, it didn't melt on its own. It's definitely the interfacing.
Anyway, peel off the paper backing and then iron the rip stop onto the wrong side of your cotton. I went ahead and stitched around the edges (bead stitch) just because I don't trust things that look sturdy enough as they are (big girls never do). The velcro is in an experimental arrangement with which I'm not entirely happy.
But it'll do. And now my obsession can wane long enough for me to go back to the store and get more interfacing.
Oh, it measures 18" and I trimmed the corners off since they didn't seem necessary. The wrap doubles as a place mat. I'm going to fiddle with the whole thing some more and see if I can come up with something with which I'm really happy, and that process should net us enough wraps to have a picnic at the very least.
This rotten project has kept me up until well after pumpkin hour for me, but season 7 of Scrubs kept me company.
As painful as the whole thing has been, I still feel triumphant that I didn't spend $10 on the mat now on my dreadfully abused dining table. I can see how one might be able to "whip out" such projects after one can swiftly and with ease fix their sewing machine when the needle thingy comes loose or when one finally realizes that it's better to just buy the bolt of Stitch Witchery instead of running out after one and a half projects. Maybe, one of these days, I might try to make an article of clothing once more. Hah! I made a funny.
Holy crap I need sleep. Have a good weekend, people.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
New story
I'm finally working on a new story.
Yes, it's a story. A fantasy. A long spinning tale that uses an entire book to make a few interesting points.
And yes, the grammar will suck until I get Brian to look over it. Hah!
So I ask you: do names in a fantasy book have to be weird? If you've ever heard of one of the names in a fantasy book (ie Amos, Tomas, or Pug from Riftwar, or Barak from Belgariad) does that diminish the experience for you?
Fantasy people are supposed to be speaking in languages we've never before conceived and yet we can come up with word play and jokes and oh-have-mercy PUNS that work in our language and never could in theirs and yet... we suspend skepticism of such things because we like it when fantasy characters speak English. We can't exactly use subtitles through the whole book, can we? It'd get tedious.
So, tell me in a comment. I want to know if you like names that are strange yet eerily familiar (Calin, Macros, Borric, Rincewind etc), the totaly bizaare (Gandalf, Bilbo, Xanthura, Zanados, etc) or the nice and mundane?
It seems to me that a weird name is the one concession that fantasy authors make concerning the not-so-obvious language barrier. Odd beasts, fantastic realms of demons, armor that is logistically hopeless, and "why do they say that the door is a jar? That's just absurd!" In another language the nuance would be completely lost but I'm sure it'd still get a groan just because the guy with that line will most certainly have had one like it before.
If we go with eerily familiar, I may just name someone Pickle. After all, parents sometimes name their kids after virtues, and in fantasy books we often find agrarian societies where the preservation of food is the greatest virtue of survival.
Once again, it's too late and my brain is still half in fantasy land. Good night!
Yes, it's a story. A fantasy. A long spinning tale that uses an entire book to make a few interesting points.
And yes, the grammar will suck until I get Brian to look over it. Hah!
So I ask you: do names in a fantasy book have to be weird? If you've ever heard of one of the names in a fantasy book (ie Amos, Tomas, or Pug from Riftwar, or Barak from Belgariad) does that diminish the experience for you?
Fantasy people are supposed to be speaking in languages we've never before conceived and yet we can come up with word play and jokes and oh-have-mercy PUNS that work in our language and never could in theirs and yet... we suspend skepticism of such things because we like it when fantasy characters speak English. We can't exactly use subtitles through the whole book, can we? It'd get tedious.
So, tell me in a comment. I want to know if you like names that are strange yet eerily familiar (Calin, Macros, Borric, Rincewind etc), the totaly bizaare (Gandalf, Bilbo, Xanthura, Zanados, etc) or the nice and mundane?
It seems to me that a weird name is the one concession that fantasy authors make concerning the not-so-obvious language barrier. Odd beasts, fantastic realms of demons, armor that is logistically hopeless, and "why do they say that the door is a jar? That's just absurd!" In another language the nuance would be completely lost but I'm sure it'd still get a groan just because the guy with that line will most certainly have had one like it before.
If we go with eerily familiar, I may just name someone Pickle. After all, parents sometimes name their kids after virtues, and in fantasy books we often find agrarian societies where the preservation of food is the greatest virtue of survival.
Once again, it's too late and my brain is still half in fantasy land. Good night!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Aaaaaaaand psych
The short version is this: it turns out that everything has been delayed by a month.
Someone accidentally wrote down the wrong date somewhere in the orders process and they just went with it. So, instead of Man's retirement date being June 20th, it's now July 21st and everything is getting rearranged accordingly.
This morning, after learning of a potential Monday move, we industriously gave away the larger items we needed to find homes for, sent notes to the school, etc. Sorry everyone! False alarm. Thank goodness we don't have to worry about those larger items anymore.
I'll keep everyone apprised as things progress. Maybe, one of these days, we'll actually move.
Someone accidentally wrote down the wrong date somewhere in the orders process and they just went with it. So, instead of Man's retirement date being June 20th, it's now July 21st and everything is getting rearranged accordingly.
This morning, after learning of a potential Monday move, we industriously gave away the larger items we needed to find homes for, sent notes to the school, etc. Sorry everyone! False alarm. Thank goodness we don't have to worry about those larger items anymore.
I'll keep everyone apprised as things progress. Maybe, one of these days, we'll actually move.
Further updates
Man talked to his sergeant this morning. Sgt is trying to get the transportation office to move us next week but there was a part of the termination process that apparently has to happen after we've cleared housing, so he's going to try and get us moved next Monday or Tuesday.
Hah!!
So, yeah.
Alternatively, we may still delay things by a week. Isn't this so fun?? All I can do is keep the trash cans empty and the laundry and dishes clean at all times. Living life on a trigger, that's me.
Hah!!
So, yeah.
Alternatively, we may still delay things by a week. Isn't this so fun?? All I can do is keep the trash cans empty and the laundry and dishes clean at all times. Living life on a trigger, that's me.
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