Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Upon viewing the food pyramid I find no section assigned to Peanut Butter Fudge. I am sure this was an unintentional omission. It is difficult to decide which of the current groups Peanut Butter Fudge might be labeled. Since it contains proteins and healthy legumes one would think to count it among the Meat, Poultry, Fish, Dry Beans, and Nuts group, but I find that section a little too small to encourage the consumption of a healthy amount of Peanut Butter Fudge. Could you please dedicate a level on the food pyramid to Peanut Butter Fudge? A large section toward the wider end if you don't mind. Thank you.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
We almost joined a co-op at the beginning of this school year. It sounded so promising ... art classes, English classes, plays. Plus I really like the other moms and know many of the kids. Then they wanted me to teach a class. Fine. I could do that. But it didn’t stop there ... suddenly there were mom meetings, family meetings, cookouts, field trips, teacher meetings. Someone signed me up for the annual staff associative co-administrative ambassador coordinator wizard. (Yes, I warned them that I knew nothin' about birthin’ no darn annuals.) And then told me that in addition to this I would have to take part in fund raisers and volunteer as class “helper” for another class. There were even whispers of mandatory things. Mandatory?
Uhhhhhh, no thanks. I grabbed the oars and paddled our homeschool fannies right out of that little lagoon! I would've had to sacrifice my favorite homeschool value of simplicity to take part in that co-op.
Recently I was asked by another homeschool mom if I took part in many of the activities with the groups in this area. I answered honestly, "No. The main reason I homeschool is so I don't have to do stuff like that ... " She was relieved since she rather thought the same thing, and you can imagine that this was a big relief to me.
I have been through years in public schools, and while I am definitely not one of those homeschool nazi moms who thinks everyone should homeschool or that public schools are bad, I have experienced that run-ragged-ness brought on by parent groups and fund raisers and Fall Festivals, Winter Festivals, Spring Flings, dances, standardized tests, Field Days, teacher appreciation luncheons, etc. One year, I cried for a week after school was out because I was worn out ... and just think about my kids! And in the area I live in each of my kids would be in separate schools. So, I’d have to multiply the above list by three!
Nothing is simple in this world. I realize that. But shouldn’t it be? I admit that I homeschool for the simplicity of it. There is nothing heroic about it. It’s just plain old self-preservation.
Is there something wrong with me?
Friday, November 28, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
My husband has hid the scale, he says I don't need it that I look like the day he married me. He's lying because he wants toast with his butter for breakfast tomorrow. It won't work.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
I've lost my will to live. My "all the bacon and eggs you can eat" high is gone. My house is bereft of sugar, flour, pasta, rice, and potatoes. Freezer burned won-ton wrappers are starting to look yummy to me. I've been straining my brain trying to figure out how to make chocolate out of Splenda and pork rinds (please forward your recipes). My kids have taken to eating their PB&J in their rooms out of fear. But I did have a break through today- I was able to get my wedding rings on...
Friday, September 19, 2008
<--this is the the line to get in.
This is some crazy lady who wouldn't get out of the
We're still waiting on the Cinnabon and the Starbucks, but Target, well Target is a great start. Way to go Alice!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Augh! I had saved these books from my childhood to share with my own daughter. The more I thought about it the more bothered I became, so I did a little Nancy Drew Racism Googling. I found this:
As the mother of rather colorful children with skin of various shades of browns I guess I might be more sensitive than most, and oddly when I read the books myself as a child I never noticed these offenses. Either I sped-read my way over them or was so caught up in the mystery that I missed them. Maybe in the innocence of childhood I just didn't "get it". My older eyes, my older heart, my mothering mind caught them, and I am saddened.
This isn't the first classic that has gone unfinished in my house. Some I have read and tried to leave out the offensive parts with intolerant references to skin colors and ethnicities. That is a difficult way to read a book aloud. I have heard that Nancy's books have been revised to modernize her haughty ways, but I'm afraid to try them. If any of you have read updated Nancy Drew mysteries please let me know your impressions.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
If you feel like sending gifts, Farah needs a new thong bikini and I need a Muumuu to wear to the LMNOP Ball next month, something in black, I think, because black is so slimming, maybe with a splash of color so I don't blend into the background. A lovely flamingo pattern might look flash, or maybe some colorful fish, I'll trust your judgement.
We miss you, keep in touch.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Are you confused yet? Just think of it as the way it usually goes with a pregnancy or meal planning - some folks like to define their participation by being present at the Big Bang conception (“Hey, let’s dine on something light yet fruity” or “There you go, I did my part so proceedeth hasty like and birth me a young’un!”) and the receiving end of the labor and delivery line (“Boy, that was some fine pear tart I just ate!” or “Look, I have a kid!”)... everything else ” (like pregnancy, war, grocery shopping, making crusts) is of minor importance.
Thomas Jefferson drew this beautiful document up, I believed, with great wisdom, ink made of elderberry juice, and a pointy bird feather on a fat piece of unlined parchment in the comfort of his study at Monticello on a sunny afternoon as he smiled upon his children playing Marco Polo upon the green lawn just outside the window near his desk. Sigh. But it doesn’t look like it happened that way. For one reason Jefferson’s children at the time were still in diapers. He also undoubtedly had access to India ink which was really invented by the Chinese, but let's don't get started on that. I read that someone's clerk probably was responsible for the actual handwriting of the Declaration version we are familiar with ... the version that wasn’t even ordered by congress until July 19, 1776. I was more than a little miffed at this revelation.
Which brings me to the real point I was working toward. Come Monday, I was just fixing to use this as a homeschooling force:
“Look, you capable yet somewhat slacker children who would like to take 13 days to write simple essays, this Jefferson fellow whipped this up in one sitting without college-ruled notebook paper or an eraser! And would you look at that fine penmanship?” (Notice I wasn’t bringing up the oddly capitalized words).
And now, realizing that I had absorbed most of my history knowledge during the highly romanticized U.S. Bicentennial Era of my childhood and not during the great opportunity of having a bonafide historian as a high school history instructor, I will have to rethink my uplifting speech to include some actual truths. Hopefully I will come up with something as inspiring that will spare my children from wondering 30 some years later how they had gotten everything so wrong ... like me. Hey, even if Jefferson didn't handwrite that courageous document up so lovely like -someone DID - right? And Jefferson was the mastermind - right? You might want to wish me luck : )
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Aggravate-What one child does to another forcing the parent into time-outs. At one minute per year of age, I'm now up to a pretty refreshing nap now.
Assimilate-Okay, this one reminds me of Star Trek-the Next Generation episodes with those people from Hell Raisers in them.
Penetrate-Self explanatory and the real reason I'll never write a romance novel.
Imitate-No good has ever come from this.
Irrigate-In my experience, always involves wounds, iodine and my cat Ginger after a night out.
Elevate-At least it's not broken...
Castigate-Even sounds painful.
Delegate-To keep passing all the yucky work off until it gets to the person at the end of the line, that would be me.
Obligate-Involves a marker that may be called in at anytime, usually procured when someone has your kids for a sleepover. Two sleepovers without a return invite will result in a state of '"obligation" which is to be avoided at all costs.
Mediate-A Skill forced on parents while driving 70 mph down the highway.
Estimate-Okay, maybe I'll let this one pass. After all, it does allow you to put your "ideal" weight on your DL without technically committing fraud.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Like many other chooks gone wild, Rhett ended up in the river, that's the third time this week. Rhett's grounded now, so tonight he'll be going to bed early-- under a Texas star.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
The Silver Wolf, as he was called by his enemies and more than a few of the ladies about the kingdom because of his mane of auburn waves that never seemed to stay in the perfect feather he worked so hard on each morning and the sterling silver armour he wore that took an army of squires to keep polished to perfection, was charging toward victory in his quest to oust the evil Sir Gruntel from his family home. Sir Gruntel had waited until The Wolf had left to do his part in the Crusades and had seized the opportunity to move onto the lands he had coveted since childhood. Wolf's castle boasted the tallest towers and the deepest dungeons of any in the North , a thing a man could be proud of for sure. He'd feared something like this might happen and had been careful to leave his keys with his most trusted friend, Friar Dan, but he must have left a window open or something. Ugh, he'd wracked his brain and couldn't figure out which one, oh well, it was done now and there was nothing for it but to undo it. In his fury to get home he'd almost missed the blushing maiden being rubbed off her destrier by one of his fine pine trees. He stopped a little sharp and several of his knights in tow had flown off their horses and into the meadow, squires came running from all directions to re-perch their masters onto their war beasts before the dampness of the morning dew on the lavender fields started to rust their chain mail.
Gilli-Anna lay sprawled in a perfect X on the edge of the tree line. Had her skirts not been over her head she would have noticed the audience she had attracted. After several long moments, she caught her breath and sat up thinking to give Thunderhoof the dressing down of his life, "Thunderhoof! You no good..." Thunderhoof was sprinting towards the keep at that moment and Gilli-Anna looked across his departing flanks and into the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. Had she not then been temporarily blinded by the mid morning sun reflecting off his overly polished armour, it would have been love at first sight...
Damper-Food prepared and consumed in the outback. Usually involves kangaroo steaks and beer.
Trolley-A grocery cart with four wheels that turn 360 degrees in both directions. Widely believed to be used only in stores that Americans frequent for the entertainment of the locals.
Beanie-Knitted winter cap possibly resembling a bird house, a valcano or a potted plant. Usually hand-made in the desert and sold at a festival.
Jumper-Sweater or sweatshirt
Morning Tea-Mid-day snack
Afternoon Tea-Early dinner
Bobs your uncle-Whatever you want
How long is a piece of string?-How should I know?
Good on ya!-Aren't you clever
Fair dinkum-Pretty good
Grog-Beeya (or Beer)'Heaps' good-Very satisfactory
Trod-You stepped on it
Rego-The seven thousand million dollars a year you must pay for the priviledge of driving. You get a stylish red sticker in exchange for your childs college fund.
NT time-Not Today, Not Tomorrow, Not on Tuesdays, Not on Thursdays
Monday, June 23, 2008
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
When people go on extended vacations to foreign lands (Texas) where they will be eating exotic foods (Chili Cheese fries), staying in fashionable locations (Fun Valley) and shopping at exclusive stores (Target) they really should be careful who they leave their keys with.
That's right chick, I have the rooster and I'm sending him on parade. If you want him back sober and single you'll leave a bag of Peppermint Patties in a location to be disclosed at a later time. Don't disappoint me.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I have stacks of everything from mail to plates to picture frames to a patrillion and twelve issues of National Geographic and Oprah's magazine (I am a subscriber of neither).
I am on my 572nd homeschool organizational plan, and once again I am relying heavily on stacks. Now I like organization - no, change that: I love organization. There should be a place for everything. Is it ok if that place is a stack?
Stacking is hereditary. I am not sure if it is a dominate trait, but I know it can be a learned trait as well. My mom was a terrific stacker. It seems I either learned or inherited from one of the best. Some people only have the piling gene. Piling isn't nearly as organized, and it distresses me.
Please do not confuse stacking with piling. Piling is a weak and dangerous form of stacking. It seems to be two of my children's preferred method of storing stuff. My daughter's room is currently edged with piles (must keep the dance floor clear!). My second son's piles are practically volcanic. They flow, spew, and erupt. My eldest son, bless him, has some fine stacking skills in development, so it appears that the stacks will keep coming.
The Happy Stacker Poem.
I am a happy stacker. I happily stack, stack, stack
And if my stack should come unstacked, I happily stack it back.
I am such a happy stacker that I have learned to stack
A stack that stacks up four feet high - No stacking skills I lack!
I'm a happy stacker and I stack stacks everywhere
At any place in my house a stack is all stacked there.
I'm a stacker collector. I appreciate a good stack.
If I get tired of seeing a certain stack I upend it in a sack.
Whenever I have to move it will be a cinch to pack-
Just open up a box lid and stack and stack and stack..
I have tried other methods like file and tote and rack
But this happy stacker always returns to the stack.
happy stacking to you all!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I am applying for the job of Queen of the Universe. I understand that the position is open while the current Queen is heavily drugged following a difficult childbirth and the pursuant toddler years. My current situation, though rewarding, does not bestow upon me the proper amount of respect or, in my opinion, reverence.
First, I am a three Michelin star chef capable of taking on Gordon Ramsey and boys who can puke up anything too salty, too spicy or too mushy. I earned my stars while in Australia where my steering wheel was on the wrong side to go through the drive-thru at McDonald's.
I have a PhD in girl psychology and boy/husband psychotherapy. I can interpret the multiple meanings behind door slamming, humphing, pouting and cuddling and react with the appropriate amount of eye rolling, deep breathing or hugs and kisses. I can look a grown man in the eye and tell him that he is absolutely right there is no reason why, after eighteen years of marriage, he should know where we keep the sheets. I can also assure him he's not going senile, he never knew.
I am an Olympic qualified rock climber, long distance swimmer and I can drive a grocery cart with wheels that go in four different directions.
I can parallel park a SUV in a motorcycle parking space in a ten minute zone and buy groceries, pick up a package at the Post, run by the chemist for an eight dollar box of Epsom salts and return in time.
I have lived through a nine year old learning the violin.
I have pants in four different sizes in my closet.
I know the location of all five elevators in Alice Springs, Australia.
I can design award winning evening wear for Beanie Babies.
I have trekked through jungles, pilgrimaged across deserts, climbed mountains, white watered rafted, and been to the world's largest mall.
I once went back in time where I became the muse for travelling bards who wrote prose to my beauty and grace and my wispy waist.
I have coffee every Tuesday with an interesting assortment of ladies from four different countries that also have nothing else to do on Tuesday.
I will require a one month paid vacation in September 2012 and nights, weekends, holiday (both American and Australian) and Tuesday mornings off with pay.
Thank you for your consideration, I can be reached at the Yeperenye Shopping Center each Tuesday from 8:15 until 10:00.
Edwina Honoria Eloisa Daphne Hyacinth Featherbottom-Smythe
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Being the First Lady means a couple of things:
1) I am privileged to have a scepter fashioned from a fly rod standing watch in a bedroom corner
2) I am witness to Trout Miracles.
Now, a Trout Miracle can take many forms with the most common form being Lord Trout's ability to get off work on time just about any time a meeting of The Fish Club is taking place. I never cease to be amazed at this phenomenon, and I am astounded each time he squeaks in before dark to gather presidential supplies and head to a town 20-30 minuted away to preside over a gathering of fellow fisherpeople. Lord Trout rarely makes it home from work in time for a decent supper or to watch his beloved nerd news shows, so you can see just what a miracle it is that he can accomplish the aforementioned feat.
Another thing I've noticed is the assumption on the part of others that I share Lord Trout's love of fish tricking ways. Ironically, considering I am the First Lady and all and mothering a new generation of fishermen, I have absolutely no desire to catch fish. Fly fishing is an art form of sorts developed to trick fish into biting fake bugs. Somehow I consider myself above that. I could change my mind if my family is ever starving and in need of trout flesh nourishment, but as long as I am married to a guy who thinks this is fun, why bother? Right? And as long as there are unread books, songs to sing, cross stitch patterns to bring home and never use, toenails to paint, and shopping to perform, I cannot imagine spending a whole day in the pursuit of tricking fish. But, Lord Trout, more power to ya, Honey!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Capers: Ewww. Pity the poor, hungry soul who once became brave enough to pickle and eat this.... this ... whatever it is. And more pity to the person who figured out that it was the perfect compliment to smashed up goose liver.
Anchovies: Admittedly, I do not believe I have ever tried one. I have smelled them, however, and I am relatively certain that there will not be an attempt to use them in any recipe in my kitchen. Why use a little, dead, stinky fish when you could use, say, oh, some moldy play dough instead?
Rack of Ribs: Exactly whose ribs are we talking about here? Cow? Pig? Goat? Iguana? Hippo? Can’t imagine there is really a lot of good eatin’ in a rack of ribs.
Zest: Come on, people. If Mother Nature had intended for us to eat bitter scrapings of orange skin she wouldn’t have given us thumbs to help peel all that stuff off our oranges. Right? Notice it is also the name of a deodorant soap.
Pork Loin: Loin is a turn off word. I think the word loin is used in the Bible in connection with other words like “girdeth” and “thy”. Anyone in this house looking for loin will have to go somewhere else.
Mint: Mint is for chewing gum and mouthwash. I will use mint if I am making chewing gum or mouthwash.
Fresh Basil: I have yet to meet anyone in real life who has eaten fresh basil. It is a lovely green, however, so I may employ it after living proof that it can be tolerated. If you eat anchovies please do not send your fresh basil testimonial. You obviously cannot be trusted.
Clove(s) of Garlic: Have you all never smelled yourselves after you’ve eaten that stuff? Have you ever smelled anyone else after they have eaten that stuff? For the sake of the world, I beg you, nix any recipe requiring more than a benign sprinkle of garlic in it's weakest form.
Gorgonzola: Is that a carnival ride? I do occasionally enjoy some nice bleu cheese. Can’t you just call it bleu cheese?
Mussels: I think they could possibly be endangered here in the foothills of the Smokies. One might go to prison or be threatened with hefty fines for eating an endangered species. Plus they don’t actually look like food. They look like a cross between Pinocchio’s shoes and The Little Mermaid’s bra.
Pine nuts: Not totally sure what these are, but it seems to me that we should leave them to the squirrels. Maybe then the squirrels will stay out of our bird feeders. Sounds like a decent enough trade to me.
Leg of Lamb: Correct me if I am wrong here, but don’t lambs need their legs? I have to wonder how they might caper about the meadows without their legs ...? Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t we let them keep their legs and let them get all wooly, shave them, and make ourselves some socks?!
Sherry: I went to high school with her. She was weird.
This list will expand as my cooking channel viewing progresses. I do hope that my comments and observations will also help you.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Now, I used to be a romance snob, only historical novels were good enough for me. Contemporary, blech, how very common. Paranormal, palease, that was for those who couldn't commit.I mean, is it romance or sci-fi? And as we all know, it is entirely within the realm of possibility that someone might get thrown back to 1200 A.D. Scotland and find the man of her dreams whereas shape shifters, ghosts and vampires are just plain silly. Oh, how wrong I was. Did you know that highlanders sometimes get catapulted into the future and are possessed by demons and all they need, bless their hearts, is the love of a good woman to turn their lives around and save the world to boot? And my new secret joy? J.R. Ward's the Black Dagger Brotherhood, contemporary, paranormal, and great covers. I've got the next installment on pre-order. I've even been known to pick up a series romance because of the man chest on the cover. Okay, maybe I wouldn't "pick it up" but I've ordered more than a few from Amazon I tell you. My mother would probably deny it to her grave but she also reads romance novels. Maybe it runs in the genes.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
If I die would someone please scatter my ashes through the heather in my Scotland??? I don't mind waiting until 2012...
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
I can cannot count the many times I have caught myself committing typo by using the wrong homophone. I am ashamed. All my language arts teachers that are no longer walking among us must be clapping erasers in their graves wondering how I have wandered so far from the grammar way and ended up here ... in apparent homophone confusion. Can they ever forgive me? To help explain the situation, I have come up with this:
Unfortunately, due to recent brain cell overload compounded by the electronic age, my writing skills have fallen victim to a bout of Thinking Faster Than I Can Type Syndrome. As a direct result, I have come down with a condition resulting in a breakdown in homophone balance. Hopefully after a few weeks under the care of a competent dictionary I will be far enough along in Homophone Replacement Therapy for my fingers to differentiate between their and there and they’re, your and you’re, won and one, no and know, etc. Meanwhile, should self-editing miss some of my frequent misspells due fingers-brain homophone confusion, please try to overlook them or kindly prompt me to fix the problem. Thank you.