Friday I didn't feel well. So, I decided to take the day off from work - I had no patients scheduled anyhow - and just rest. Which is like saying "I am going to go to a heavy metal concert, sit front row, and read a book. In another language. And understand it. And leave feeling peaceful and calm." Because, I am a mom, and the kids are on Christmas break, and I have a George, and a Ninja, and yeah, the whole "Let's sit here and rest up and feel better" thing wasn't going to work.
So, as I was sitting on the couch pouting over the fact that it was nowhere near bedtime for the kids, I was scrolling through Facebook, and I see my friend, Justin, has just posted a picture of a cute little Husky puppy. This puppy was part of a Husky rescue operation that had just taken place, where 16 puppies and 11 adults were taken from a breeder who couldn't care for them anymore. (Well, actually the breeder's girl friend. The breeder for some reason or other was MIA.)
Anyhow, the puppy was all cute, as most puppies are, and I thought about Joe. And Joe's brains, and Joe's super energy activity level. And that Joe has been desperately trying to win over Buster, the current dog. Who just looks at him clearly communicating that, in the general order of the kids, if there was ever an emergency, Joe would be last on his list of which kids in our household he would be saving. Joe needed a dog. A loyal dog, who can grow with him, and who will love him absolutely, and be something he can pour all these brains and energy into. Joe NEEDED a dog.
So, I contacted the person who had this puppy, and, before I knew it, we had the okay to come and get him.
We loaded the kids up, went out and bought the puppy a collar, (blaze orange. With a matching blaze orange leash) and went to go get the doggie. Through all this, a name was decided on by the kids. (Disclaimer: I had NOTHING to do with the naming of this animal.) And the puppy was named "Turbo Speed Dick". Which is right on level with the Guinea pigs a few years ago - Sweet Tiger and Chocolate.
Turbo was just the cutest little husky puppy ever. A perfect gentleman on the way home. All snuggled up to Joe. Kaila, the animal whisperer, was told that this was to be JOE'S dog, so, try not to let the dog get too attached. Easier said than done. All animals flock to Kaila like she's Snow White. It's crazy.
Once inside the house, Buster, the current dog, looked at us with devastated betrayal written all over his face. Flashlight, the cat, was completely insulted, and refused to let even Kaila touch her. She just sat there scowling at everyone with her tail swishing in rage.
Buster seemed to be willing to at least give the puppy a try, and the cat decided this was fair grounds for leaping into the kitchen counters and trying to eat stuff.
Turbo ran and played, and chewed on everything, and chased George around, and discovered he can not run on hardwood floors, and flopped over like Thumper on the ice, in the Bambi movie. Which just made the entire household go "AWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!' Except for the cat, who clearly wished he would spin right out the front door, or find a nice electrical cord to teethe on.
Eventually, it was bedtime. The girl we had gotten the dog from had warned us that this doggie should probably be in a crate, and would probably fuss. We were to ignore it, or he would learn to just fuss till someone rescued him.
The directions with the crate stated that, doggies needed to be eased into the crate over a period of time, yadda yadda yadda.
After half an hour of the finest example of howling EVER, I decided the poor thing was either in pain or distress, and made Jasin go rescue him. At 10:30.
2:30, Jasin puts puppy back in crate.
3:20, I decide I cannot listen to the howling and crying anymore, and haul him back out of the crate.
3:30 I am standing in the back yard in whipping snow, wearing my housecoat.
4:30 Kaila is up, insisting she cannot possibly sleep, and offers to take the puppy
4:45 I decide that's a good idea, and go back to bed for an hour.
5:15 Both boys are up. And fighting.
5:30 Kaila and both boys are in the backyard with the puppy, wearing pajamas in the whipping snow.
5:45 Arguing over who gets to sit in my chair with the puppy ensues.
6:00 The alarm goes off.
6:20, Banging on the bathroom door as I am in the shower, with the announcement that everyone is going back outside again, to play with the puppy in the snow.
6:45: Sitting over breakfast, reading how huskies are the "Houdini of the dog world" and WILL escape everything anyone attempts to contain them with. Fences, of every kind. They dig, tunnel, climb, and jump. And, if they get loose, they run, likely never to be seen again. Well, that's comforting. The realization set in that, my kitchen remodel has just been put off for another year, as we are going to need a new fence, set in. But he is cute!
Someday, I am going to print off my Blog, and share it with an adult Joe, and tell him that when he is rich, I want my OWN private island. Till then, this Mama just got her kid a dog that should hopefully keep him busy, and give him something to pour all his brains and energy into.
Anyhow, that's Turbo's introduction into the family, and the Blog. This tired nurse is sitting on break typing this with memories of having newborn babies at home, and thankful the patient load is low at work today. I'm sure there will be updates, as I am pretty sure our adventures with Turbo have just begun!
Monday, December 30, 2013
Thursday, December 26, 2013
The Ninja Did It!
We have an intruder in our home. A terrible menace that only George has seen thus far. It's a Ninja. A Ninja we have been informed we will never ever catch, because he lives in a house in the woods. An INVISIBLE house, at that.
The Ninja has been responsible for quite a bit of trouble around the old homestead. George has informed us that the bad Ninja probably didn't get anything for Christmas. George has been informed that, if I ever catch that Ninja, terrible things will happen. To which he responded "Oh crap."
Aside from the Ninja that seems to delight in causing trouble in my household, Christmas went off without a hitch. I left work early on Christmas Eve, and was able to get the kids to our Traditional Christmas Eve Evening Mass. I love how the church looks, all decorated for Christmas. So calm and pretty and peaceful. But, I had George. Who is NOT the Ninja, but who has evidently been taking notes from him, and who was an absolute terror in church. No calm peaceful Christmas Eve Mass for me. I figure I have about 4-5 more years before that will happen.
Mass was followed by our Christmas Dinner. Several years ago, the tradition of Christmas Dinner after Christmas Eve church began. Then, on Christmas Day, we just pick at leftovers. It's the best idea ever. There is no way my kids are going to sit around the dinning room table on Christmas Day, and eat anything after snacking on candy canes all day. And, I don't have to cook on Christmas.
Christmas was a day that most of us spent in our PJ's. Except for George, who wore his Military Fatigues all day. Which, I am sure made perfect sense to him. And, while he did not get "Everything", he did receive 3 new Monster Trucks to add to his collection, and spent the entire day carting them lovingly around. So, I guess he was happy with his haul.
Joe made it all the way to Christmas without starving to death, and spent the day eating bagels and candy, and playing with his helicopter that really flies. And hurts like crazy when it flies into your face. In case you were wondering....
Today, I stumbled into work, deciding that the whole "Lie around in comfy clothes dozing and reading for an entire day" thing is seriously exhausting. My whole body hates me today. My body and me seem to be not getting along for the last week. I had been getting up and going to the school gym every morning before work. But then, the school had to go and close for the week. It will not open again until next Thursday. And, I haven't been feeling 100%, so, it was a good enough reason to sleep in for that extra hour for the last week. It has taken precisely 5 days, to get back to where I was before I started working out. So now I have to start all over again. And my body is having none of it. I'm all;
"Hey body, if you could just stop hurting and being sore and stuff, I would really appreciate it..."
and my body is all like "Hey, we don't really like you. We have decided we hate you, actually, and that we are officially on strike. Also, we have decided to make your arthritis worse, sooooo, yeah. Tough luck, lady."
"Come on. This is really not fair. I gave you a WHOLE day off and everything! Do you WANT me to put in the abs DVD guaranteed to kill you??"
"HA! You even think about it, and we will make you throw up."
"Fine. I will just withhold all chocolate indefinitely."
"Doesn't matter. We are going to take that awesome complexion you have had lately, you know, that little 'post workout glow' that you've had? And give you the complexion of a teen aged zombie, mixed with the pallor of a vampire, and throw in a blemish or two for fun. And your hair?! HAHAHA!!!!!"
"I really really hate you. Like, seriously, I hate you."
"Don't care. Keep it up, and we'll throw in a migraine for fun."
So, you see, things aren't going well in the whole body department. And, Bearded man forgot about the whole gym thing, and gave me 4 huge symphony bars, a box of cherry cordials, and a carton of Whoppers for Christmas. I tried soooo hard not to whimper, as I thought about the reaction my "Lose It" app would have if I tried to plug any of that into it. He redeemed himself with the new Janet Evanovich book. And I was also presented with a GPS, so now I will have a speedometer that doesn't look like I am texting every time I look down at it.
The other night, as I was driving Joe to his Cub Scout Christmas party, I was putting my phone/speedometer into the usual cup holder, when I was pulled over. The nice young officer informed me I had been texting, and I nicely pointed out my speedometer showing 70mph at a standstill,and explained I HAD NOT been texting, just setting my speedometer in the drink holder. And he nicely said I could still be ticketed for having a hand held device in my hand while driving, and I sweetly pointed out that I was only TRYING to be all law abiding and compliant, by going the correct speed, and trying NOT to get pulled over, and he was all, okay I won't write you a ticket, and I will even be nice and turn the spotlight on the cruiser off so it stops hurting your eyes, and I was all like, Oh you are such a sweetheart! Thank you so much!And then the nice young man called me ma'am, and ruined the whole 'I am not old enough to be his mother illusion.' and I was on my merry way again.
And now I have a GPS that I can mount on my windshield and know how fast I am going, so I don't get pulled over anymore. These are the fixes that happen when you are married to a mechanic. Also, I won't get lost when trying to get to job number 2 anymore. So that is a plus, as well.
Break time is over, so I need to wrap this up. I also need to conserve energy for the Ninja problem at home. I may enlist the help of George, to see if we can figure out a way to defeat the Ninja. He seems as dismayed as I am, at the trouble the Ninja is causing. Which seems to be on the rise lately....
The Ninja has been responsible for quite a bit of trouble around the old homestead. George has informed us that the bad Ninja probably didn't get anything for Christmas. George has been informed that, if I ever catch that Ninja, terrible things will happen. To which he responded "Oh crap."
Aside from the Ninja that seems to delight in causing trouble in my household, Christmas went off without a hitch. I left work early on Christmas Eve, and was able to get the kids to our Traditional Christmas Eve Evening Mass. I love how the church looks, all decorated for Christmas. So calm and pretty and peaceful. But, I had George. Who is NOT the Ninja, but who has evidently been taking notes from him, and who was an absolute terror in church. No calm peaceful Christmas Eve Mass for me. I figure I have about 4-5 more years before that will happen.
Mass was followed by our Christmas Dinner. Several years ago, the tradition of Christmas Dinner after Christmas Eve church began. Then, on Christmas Day, we just pick at leftovers. It's the best idea ever. There is no way my kids are going to sit around the dinning room table on Christmas Day, and eat anything after snacking on candy canes all day. And, I don't have to cook on Christmas.
Christmas was a day that most of us spent in our PJ's. Except for George, who wore his Military Fatigues all day. Which, I am sure made perfect sense to him. And, while he did not get "Everything", he did receive 3 new Monster Trucks to add to his collection, and spent the entire day carting them lovingly around. So, I guess he was happy with his haul.
Joe made it all the way to Christmas without starving to death, and spent the day eating bagels and candy, and playing with his helicopter that really flies. And hurts like crazy when it flies into your face. In case you were wondering....
Today, I stumbled into work, deciding that the whole "Lie around in comfy clothes dozing and reading for an entire day" thing is seriously exhausting. My whole body hates me today. My body and me seem to be not getting along for the last week. I had been getting up and going to the school gym every morning before work. But then, the school had to go and close for the week. It will not open again until next Thursday. And, I haven't been feeling 100%, so, it was a good enough reason to sleep in for that extra hour for the last week. It has taken precisely 5 days, to get back to where I was before I started working out. So now I have to start all over again. And my body is having none of it. I'm all;
"Hey body, if you could just stop hurting and being sore and stuff, I would really appreciate it..."
and my body is all like "Hey, we don't really like you. We have decided we hate you, actually, and that we are officially on strike. Also, we have decided to make your arthritis worse, sooooo, yeah. Tough luck, lady."
"Come on. This is really not fair. I gave you a WHOLE day off and everything! Do you WANT me to put in the abs DVD guaranteed to kill you??"
"HA! You even think about it, and we will make you throw up."
"Fine. I will just withhold all chocolate indefinitely."
"Doesn't matter. We are going to take that awesome complexion you have had lately, you know, that little 'post workout glow' that you've had? And give you the complexion of a teen aged zombie, mixed with the pallor of a vampire, and throw in a blemish or two for fun. And your hair?! HAHAHA!!!!!"
"I really really hate you. Like, seriously, I hate you."
"Don't care. Keep it up, and we'll throw in a migraine for fun."
So, you see, things aren't going well in the whole body department. And, Bearded man forgot about the whole gym thing, and gave me 4 huge symphony bars, a box of cherry cordials, and a carton of Whoppers for Christmas. I tried soooo hard not to whimper, as I thought about the reaction my "Lose It" app would have if I tried to plug any of that into it. He redeemed himself with the new Janet Evanovich book. And I was also presented with a GPS, so now I will have a speedometer that doesn't look like I am texting every time I look down at it.
The other night, as I was driving Joe to his Cub Scout Christmas party, I was putting my phone/speedometer into the usual cup holder, when I was pulled over. The nice young officer informed me I had been texting, and I nicely pointed out my speedometer showing 70mph at a standstill,and explained I HAD NOT been texting, just setting my speedometer in the drink holder. And he nicely said I could still be ticketed for having a hand held device in my hand while driving, and I sweetly pointed out that I was only TRYING to be all law abiding and compliant, by going the correct speed, and trying NOT to get pulled over, and he was all, okay I won't write you a ticket, and I will even be nice and turn the spotlight on the cruiser off so it stops hurting your eyes, and I was all like, Oh you are such a sweetheart! Thank you so much!And then the nice young man called me ma'am, and ruined the whole 'I am not old enough to be his mother illusion.' and I was on my merry way again.
And now I have a GPS that I can mount on my windshield and know how fast I am going, so I don't get pulled over anymore. These are the fixes that happen when you are married to a mechanic. Also, I won't get lost when trying to get to job number 2 anymore. So that is a plus, as well.
Break time is over, so I need to wrap this up. I also need to conserve energy for the Ninja problem at home. I may enlist the help of George, to see if we can figure out a way to defeat the Ninja. He seems as dismayed as I am, at the trouble the Ninja is causing. Which seems to be on the rise lately....
Monday, December 23, 2013
Christmas Stuff
Oh wow! I absolutely cannot believe that Christmas Eve is tomorrow! Last week, we had knee deep snow everywhere, and conditions were perfect, for accommodating a sleigh hauling toys and a (probably) insulin dependant elf. However; it rained, and now there is mud and slop and flooding everywhere, and Santa will probably need his muck boots to get anywhere around here.
That being said: we are pretty much all set for Santa in our house. Except the cookies. The kids ate all the cookies. And, if I cannot get around to either buying or baking some cookies, Santa will have to be directed to the refrigerator and some left over ham or chicken. Or he can pick at the fruit or veggie trays that will be in there. Not that some fruit and veggies would hurt, at this point. And maybe the poor reindeer would appreciate it.
Pretty much everything is all set for the Big Day. Which we plan on spending it at home, just us, and wearing pajamas for most of it. And doing a load of laundry, and picking up by the end of the day. Because, darn it, I have managed to keep the house looking good since I came back from vacation, and I am NOT losing momentum because of one day! Otherwise, dinner will consist of me throwing together fruit and veggie platters Christmas Eve, a ham in the crock pot, and a crackers and cheese tray. Everyone can just pick at whatever they like whenever they like. Except Joe. Joe will probably just eat Christmas candy.
Oh, Joseph. Quite the drama with Joe the other night. Evidently, while he was at his friend's house for a Birthday sleepover, Joe decided to eat half of a large pizza. And, a few hours later, began vomiting it all over creation. I received a call at 10:30 in the evening, advising me that we may want to come get our kid. The other boy's mom offered to drive him home, but, recalling his lifelong habit of vomiting all over my vehicle, I said we would come get him. Then sent Bearded Man to retrieve the sick child. In his truck. Not mine. Because, I am pretty sure if any of the kids vomit in my vehicle, it will send my truck into fits of all sorts of awfulness. And I really cannot deal with any more drama from my truck at this time. At this point, I am afraid to even LOOK at car dealerships, for fear my vehicle will die in the street out of spite.
Bearded Man came home and informed me that the parent's of the boy who Joe was with questioned him as to whether Joe eats like this regularly. I can only imagine the stories of near starvation my kid may have regaled them with. I can only thank them for thus far not calling the authorities regarding the starvation of my son. Who has announced that 'Pizza and me are no longer friends, Mom.' Which crosses yet another food off the (very small) list of things Joe will consume.
For Christmas, I did buy him bagels and cream cheese and orange juice (with lots of pulp), as those are favorites of his. So, for one day this year, Joe will have at least something besides candy that he can eat. And all the CPS people can enjoy their Christmases without a call from the Dick progeny. I hope he has triplets just like himself someday.
The tree continues to stand and look beautiful. And I am pretty sure it will last until Christmas. Albeit, everything under it will be covered in pine needles. The amount that of needles I sweep up every day is pretty alarming. I think the only thing making it not look completely dead is the decorations and tinsel covering it. Otherwise, I suspect it may be alarmingly bare under all the decoration... My poor tree will probably have to come down next weekend. which is such a shame, because it really is on the list of my all time favorites.
This year, Kaila has been told she must sell and then help hand out flowers, and log in 6 (or 8, we cannot remember which) of these activities between 7th and 8th grade, in order to be allowed to go on a field trip after the 8th grade school year. So, I bought mums for fall, and then poinsettias for Christmas. And the poinsettias look sooo pretty, sitting on the living room tabletops! So so pretty. There was this niggling thought, however, that I half recalled that poinsettias are a lot of work, and that I have killed every one that I have ever owned. It's been years and years since I had one, however, so I looked it up. And printed out a double sided paper, in small font, that detailed the month by month care of poinsettias. And decided on the spot that they are going to die. As, I will never remember to do most of these things. So now, every time I look at my beautiful poinsettias, I think about how they are going to die, because I am going to willfully let them. And, the gardener and nurse in me combined, is making this very very difficult. So now, there is no enjoyment in my beautiful poinsettias. Because they are going to die as a direct result in my inability to take care of them. Which is sort of plant murder. And premeditated, at that. Poor plants. If anyone out there wants to take on the care and keeping of 2 poinsettias, they are welcome to them....
Bearded Man continues to bake bread every day. He has now branched out into wheat bread. It is so so good. He tried to teach me how to bake bread yesterday. ("And THIS is how you spray the bread pans. I usually do short but even sweeps of the cooking spray-" "I KNOW HOW TO SPRAY A PAN, JASIN!!!!!!") But, I have been under the weather the last few days, and, I am afraid, not the most enthusiastic learner. Besides. Once I learn how to do it, I will always have to do it, and I don't have time. Bearded Man is still pretty excited about it bread making, and has bought himself two additional bread pans. That I have been strictly forbidden to use for anything except bread. Joe is so excited about all this homemade bread, that he has decided that we should turn the Family Room into a bread bakery. He has an entire business plan. I tell Joe all the time, he is going to be rich someday. He already has plans to own 5 private islands. And if I don't start feeding him better, I will have zero access to those islands. Since I am pretty sure he will indeed be wealthy, I think I may need to step up my game on the Mom front.
With all this bread baking, comes the desire to make homemade jams again. Maybe this coming spring and summer I will figure out how to can things. Since the shed that Bearded Man built this past summer has covered the area that I wanted to put a door more convenient for driveway/kitchen access, I think that maybe a pantry may go there, instead. Bearded Man has also re-ignited his desire for for chickens. Which, evidently are allowed within the village.
"Jasin. Where are we supposed to put chickens? They will destroy my gardens!"
"Behind my new shed!"
"There isn't a whole lot of room right there, Jasin..."
"Yes, there is! You could fit LOTS of chickens! Fresh eggs, fresh chicken...."
"Uh huh. And who is going to clean up after these chickens, and collect eggs, and feed and water them?:
"........... The KIDS can do it!"
"The same children that won't change a kitty litter, feed and water the dog, or even let him in and out? THOSE children?"
"Well, they will HAVE to do it!"
"And who is going to enforce this?"
"I still think it's a good idea. And, we need to figure out how to get a cow, too."
"Oh, good Lord."
Not sure how long the current bid for livestock will last. But I am positive that, if a cow is part of the future plans, whether in our back yard legally or illegally; I will be the person who gets stuck caring for it, and figuring out how to milk it. Which could be an entire blog post in itself. "Mama Milks the Cow".....
Pretty much that's it for now. George is still telling anyone who asks what he wants for Christmas that he continues to want "Everything". I imagine we are in for a bit of a disappointment Christmas morning. We could always tell him it probably had something to do with eating all of Santa's cookies.... we'll see how it pans out.
Merry Christmas, Everyone! Hope it's a great day for all of you!
That being said: we are pretty much all set for Santa in our house. Except the cookies. The kids ate all the cookies. And, if I cannot get around to either buying or baking some cookies, Santa will have to be directed to the refrigerator and some left over ham or chicken. Or he can pick at the fruit or veggie trays that will be in there. Not that some fruit and veggies would hurt, at this point. And maybe the poor reindeer would appreciate it.
Pretty much everything is all set for the Big Day. Which we plan on spending it at home, just us, and wearing pajamas for most of it. And doing a load of laundry, and picking up by the end of the day. Because, darn it, I have managed to keep the house looking good since I came back from vacation, and I am NOT losing momentum because of one day! Otherwise, dinner will consist of me throwing together fruit and veggie platters Christmas Eve, a ham in the crock pot, and a crackers and cheese tray. Everyone can just pick at whatever they like whenever they like. Except Joe. Joe will probably just eat Christmas candy.
Oh, Joseph. Quite the drama with Joe the other night. Evidently, while he was at his friend's house for a Birthday sleepover, Joe decided to eat half of a large pizza. And, a few hours later, began vomiting it all over creation. I received a call at 10:30 in the evening, advising me that we may want to come get our kid. The other boy's mom offered to drive him home, but, recalling his lifelong habit of vomiting all over my vehicle, I said we would come get him. Then sent Bearded Man to retrieve the sick child. In his truck. Not mine. Because, I am pretty sure if any of the kids vomit in my vehicle, it will send my truck into fits of all sorts of awfulness. And I really cannot deal with any more drama from my truck at this time. At this point, I am afraid to even LOOK at car dealerships, for fear my vehicle will die in the street out of spite.
Bearded Man came home and informed me that the parent's of the boy who Joe was with questioned him as to whether Joe eats like this regularly. I can only imagine the stories of near starvation my kid may have regaled them with. I can only thank them for thus far not calling the authorities regarding the starvation of my son. Who has announced that 'Pizza and me are no longer friends, Mom.' Which crosses yet another food off the (very small) list of things Joe will consume.
For Christmas, I did buy him bagels and cream cheese and orange juice (with lots of pulp), as those are favorites of his. So, for one day this year, Joe will have at least something besides candy that he can eat. And all the CPS people can enjoy their Christmases without a call from the Dick progeny. I hope he has triplets just like himself someday.
The tree continues to stand and look beautiful. And I am pretty sure it will last until Christmas. Albeit, everything under it will be covered in pine needles. The amount that of needles I sweep up every day is pretty alarming. I think the only thing making it not look completely dead is the decorations and tinsel covering it. Otherwise, I suspect it may be alarmingly bare under all the decoration... My poor tree will probably have to come down next weekend. which is such a shame, because it really is on the list of my all time favorites.
This year, Kaila has been told she must sell and then help hand out flowers, and log in 6 (or 8, we cannot remember which) of these activities between 7th and 8th grade, in order to be allowed to go on a field trip after the 8th grade school year. So, I bought mums for fall, and then poinsettias for Christmas. And the poinsettias look sooo pretty, sitting on the living room tabletops! So so pretty. There was this niggling thought, however, that I half recalled that poinsettias are a lot of work, and that I have killed every one that I have ever owned. It's been years and years since I had one, however, so I looked it up. And printed out a double sided paper, in small font, that detailed the month by month care of poinsettias. And decided on the spot that they are going to die. As, I will never remember to do most of these things. So now, every time I look at my beautiful poinsettias, I think about how they are going to die, because I am going to willfully let them. And, the gardener and nurse in me combined, is making this very very difficult. So now, there is no enjoyment in my beautiful poinsettias. Because they are going to die as a direct result in my inability to take care of them. Which is sort of plant murder. And premeditated, at that. Poor plants. If anyone out there wants to take on the care and keeping of 2 poinsettias, they are welcome to them....
Bearded Man continues to bake bread every day. He has now branched out into wheat bread. It is so so good. He tried to teach me how to bake bread yesterday. ("And THIS is how you spray the bread pans. I usually do short but even sweeps of the cooking spray-" "I KNOW HOW TO SPRAY A PAN, JASIN!!!!!!") But, I have been under the weather the last few days, and, I am afraid, not the most enthusiastic learner. Besides. Once I learn how to do it, I will always have to do it, and I don't have time. Bearded Man is still pretty excited about it bread making, and has bought himself two additional bread pans. That I have been strictly forbidden to use for anything except bread. Joe is so excited about all this homemade bread, that he has decided that we should turn the Family Room into a bread bakery. He has an entire business plan. I tell Joe all the time, he is going to be rich someday. He already has plans to own 5 private islands. And if I don't start feeding him better, I will have zero access to those islands. Since I am pretty sure he will indeed be wealthy, I think I may need to step up my game on the Mom front.
With all this bread baking, comes the desire to make homemade jams again. Maybe this coming spring and summer I will figure out how to can things. Since the shed that Bearded Man built this past summer has covered the area that I wanted to put a door more convenient for driveway/kitchen access, I think that maybe a pantry may go there, instead. Bearded Man has also re-ignited his desire for for chickens. Which, evidently are allowed within the village.
"Jasin. Where are we supposed to put chickens? They will destroy my gardens!"
"Behind my new shed!"
"There isn't a whole lot of room right there, Jasin..."
"Yes, there is! You could fit LOTS of chickens! Fresh eggs, fresh chicken...."
"Uh huh. And who is going to clean up after these chickens, and collect eggs, and feed and water them?:
"........... The KIDS can do it!"
"The same children that won't change a kitty litter, feed and water the dog, or even let him in and out? THOSE children?"
"Well, they will HAVE to do it!"
"And who is going to enforce this?"
"I still think it's a good idea. And, we need to figure out how to get a cow, too."
"Oh, good Lord."
Not sure how long the current bid for livestock will last. But I am positive that, if a cow is part of the future plans, whether in our back yard legally or illegally; I will be the person who gets stuck caring for it, and figuring out how to milk it. Which could be an entire blog post in itself. "Mama Milks the Cow".....
Pretty much that's it for now. George is still telling anyone who asks what he wants for Christmas that he continues to want "Everything". I imagine we are in for a bit of a disappointment Christmas morning. We could always tell him it probably had something to do with eating all of Santa's cookies.... we'll see how it pans out.
Merry Christmas, Everyone! Hope it's a great day for all of you!
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Bearded Man Bakes!
I am my own worst enemy. I go and decide to DO things, and then I must do them, and I end up making myself more crazy, more stressed out, and more tired, than if I just let it all go, and spent my off time reading.
This past weekend, with promises of heavy snow both days, and nothing absolutely pressing, I decided I needed to learn how to bake bread. I also took on a challenge to walk 200 minutes. While knowing full well it was going to snow. A lot.
I should backtrack, I suppose. To my new(er) position with the VA. I spend most of my days at a desk, on a computer. It is THE most sedentary job I have ever had in my life. I sit in my little office, with no windows, and rely heavily on my Kindle app at break time, to not go insane some days.
After my recent vacation, Colleen, my carpool buddy, suggested we meet at the local school gym at 5:30 every morning, to workout before work. What a splendid idea! I am almost positive the Mudderella has been moved to a different location, but, in the back of my head, I figure I should kind of train for it, just in case. That, and, seriously, it really helps my days go a lot better, with the post workout "zen".
Colleen has made it to the gym precisely 3 times, but, something I didn't know existed inside me, makes me hop right out of bed every morning, and go to the gym. I would have thought I would have already decided this was a form of self torture that was this side of sinful to inflict upon oneself, but, who knew? I kinda like it! And, it gives me the motivation to ignore the obscene amount of baked goods and chocolates being dropped off at the office by the dozens and pounds every single day, by well meaning patients. (Which reminds me: as a well meaning parent, I need to go out and buy my kids' teachers chocolate for Christmas still...)
So, this past weekend, I decide first and foremost, that, with all this exercising, I should continue it on the weekend, and pull out the workout videos I bought this past Spring/Summer. My girls decided this would be fun. So, up the stairs we trooped, to my bedroom. And it went as such:
Me: "What? 52 minutes?? This was supposed to be 45!"
Lexi: "UGH! You mean, THAT was just the warm up? The rest of this video is going to KILL us!"
Kaila: "Oh wow! The music is cool!" (Begins singing along)
Me: "Kaila, I swear to God, if you don't stop singing like you're strolling through the park, I am going to smack you."
Lexi: "Is that BABY OIL on his chest?"
Me: "Yes. Kaila! STOP singing!"
Kaila: "But I love the music! This is so fun!"
Lexi: "I am going to die."
Me: "I think halfway through is a good starter point"
Lexi: "I agree. Break time!"
Kaila: "NO! I am really into this!!!"
Lexi and Me : "Shut up, Kaila!"
On to the 200 minute challenge. I was ready to set out into the Winter Wonderland, when Bearded Man decided to come along too. We trudged 45 minutes through the snow, alone on a walk together for the first time in over 12 years. Amazing. I had no idea it had been so long! I still have to find time to get 105 minutes in before next Sunday.
Next was the bread making. I saved that for Sunday. And I tried, I really did. But, my first loaf was a failure. Ah well. I decided that selling my bread machine at a yard sale several years ago may have been a mistake, and began to regret it somewhat.
The next morning, Bearded Man sent me a picture of a perfect loaf of bread. Golden brown, perfectly domed, all fresh from the oven. Well. I'll be! Out baked by the Bearded Wonder! Who knew!
Till I found out this morning, when I reminded him it was his Mother's Birthday, that he had called her and asked how she did it. You know, the lady who used to own her own bakery? Still, it was perfect. And, he stopped at Walmart on his way home from work last night, and bought himself new measuring cups and spoons (In a manly black color) and a new bread pan. He put out 2 more loaves today. And again, sent pictures. I responded with a quick "Yummy!" To which he took great offense. "That's it? 'Yummy'? That's all I get?" I receive at work. To which I responded:
Bread Bread.
Oh, golden perfect bread!
Why cannot I
Get the delicious perfection
Out of my head?
I dream of your honey colored
Crisp golden crust
To bite it.
To savor it,
To worship it:
I must.
To the hero that baked you
His armor has now
Just a little less rust.
For, to produce such
Perfection!
Such Wonderment!
Truly a miracle
Heaven sent.
Oh, sweet glorious bread!
No other words
Could possibly describe
Such amazing perfection,
All golden and sunny,
But to use the word:
Yummy
I received no other complaints. And, we have found something that Joe will actually eat. So, hopefully his earlier threats that maybe CPS would need to be called, and I would have to be arrested, and he would have to be sent to a home where "Good" food was cooked, so he could stop being the 2nd smallest boy in his class, will finally stop. (By the way, Joseph is in the 65th percentile for height and the 60th percentile for weight, if I recall correctly, should anyone be wondering.)
All of this exercising and challenges come from this handy dandy app on my phone. Which I dutifully have positioned front and center, and use it religiously.
Apps are a wonderful thing. I now have one that I use for my speedometer, on my vehicle. While I was driving it recently, on the NYS thruway, it suddenly broke, and went from 65 to 120, and then kept going. Which is hugely unnerving. Sometimes, it works itself back down to working condition again. Then after a few days of driving, goes out of control again.
Also, after a tantalizing few days of the driver's side back door opening, it decided to be broken again, so we are back to shoving poor George through the window, to get him buckled into his car seat properly.
I am pretty sure my truck is possessed. It really seems to only work properly when it wants to. The temper tantrums and drama it puts me through are just insane.
Pretty much that's all for now. For those of you in the middle of all this recent snow, stay safe! And warm!
This past weekend, with promises of heavy snow both days, and nothing absolutely pressing, I decided I needed to learn how to bake bread. I also took on a challenge to walk 200 minutes. While knowing full well it was going to snow. A lot.
I should backtrack, I suppose. To my new(er) position with the VA. I spend most of my days at a desk, on a computer. It is THE most sedentary job I have ever had in my life. I sit in my little office, with no windows, and rely heavily on my Kindle app at break time, to not go insane some days.
After my recent vacation, Colleen, my carpool buddy, suggested we meet at the local school gym at 5:30 every morning, to workout before work. What a splendid idea! I am almost positive the Mudderella has been moved to a different location, but, in the back of my head, I figure I should kind of train for it, just in case. That, and, seriously, it really helps my days go a lot better, with the post workout "zen".
Colleen has made it to the gym precisely 3 times, but, something I didn't know existed inside me, makes me hop right out of bed every morning, and go to the gym. I would have thought I would have already decided this was a form of self torture that was this side of sinful to inflict upon oneself, but, who knew? I kinda like it! And, it gives me the motivation to ignore the obscene amount of baked goods and chocolates being dropped off at the office by the dozens and pounds every single day, by well meaning patients. (Which reminds me: as a well meaning parent, I need to go out and buy my kids' teachers chocolate for Christmas still...)
So, this past weekend, I decide first and foremost, that, with all this exercising, I should continue it on the weekend, and pull out the workout videos I bought this past Spring/Summer. My girls decided this would be fun. So, up the stairs we trooped, to my bedroom. And it went as such:
Me: "What? 52 minutes?? This was supposed to be 45!"
Lexi: "UGH! You mean, THAT was just the warm up? The rest of this video is going to KILL us!"
Kaila: "Oh wow! The music is cool!" (Begins singing along)
Me: "Kaila, I swear to God, if you don't stop singing like you're strolling through the park, I am going to smack you."
Lexi: "Is that BABY OIL on his chest?"
Me: "Yes. Kaila! STOP singing!"
Kaila: "But I love the music! This is so fun!"
Lexi: "I am going to die."
Me: "I think halfway through is a good starter point"
Lexi: "I agree. Break time!"
Kaila: "NO! I am really into this!!!"
Lexi and Me : "Shut up, Kaila!"
On to the 200 minute challenge. I was ready to set out into the Winter Wonderland, when Bearded Man decided to come along too. We trudged 45 minutes through the snow, alone on a walk together for the first time in over 12 years. Amazing. I had no idea it had been so long! I still have to find time to get 105 minutes in before next Sunday.
Next was the bread making. I saved that for Sunday. And I tried, I really did. But, my first loaf was a failure. Ah well. I decided that selling my bread machine at a yard sale several years ago may have been a mistake, and began to regret it somewhat.
The next morning, Bearded Man sent me a picture of a perfect loaf of bread. Golden brown, perfectly domed, all fresh from the oven. Well. I'll be! Out baked by the Bearded Wonder! Who knew!
Till I found out this morning, when I reminded him it was his Mother's Birthday, that he had called her and asked how she did it. You know, the lady who used to own her own bakery? Still, it was perfect. And, he stopped at Walmart on his way home from work last night, and bought himself new measuring cups and spoons (In a manly black color) and a new bread pan. He put out 2 more loaves today. And again, sent pictures. I responded with a quick "Yummy!" To which he took great offense. "That's it? 'Yummy'? That's all I get?" I receive at work. To which I responded:
Bread Bread.
Oh, golden perfect bread!
Why cannot I
Get the delicious perfection
Out of my head?
I dream of your honey colored
Crisp golden crust
To bite it.
To savor it,
To worship it:
I must.
To the hero that baked you
His armor has now
Just a little less rust.
For, to produce such
Perfection!
Such Wonderment!
Truly a miracle
Heaven sent.
Oh, sweet glorious bread!
No other words
Could possibly describe
Such amazing perfection,
All golden and sunny,
But to use the word:
Yummy
I received no other complaints. And, we have found something that Joe will actually eat. So, hopefully his earlier threats that maybe CPS would need to be called, and I would have to be arrested, and he would have to be sent to a home where "Good" food was cooked, so he could stop being the 2nd smallest boy in his class, will finally stop. (By the way, Joseph is in the 65th percentile for height and the 60th percentile for weight, if I recall correctly, should anyone be wondering.)
All of this exercising and challenges come from this handy dandy app on my phone. Which I dutifully have positioned front and center, and use it religiously.
Apps are a wonderful thing. I now have one that I use for my speedometer, on my vehicle. While I was driving it recently, on the NYS thruway, it suddenly broke, and went from 65 to 120, and then kept going. Which is hugely unnerving. Sometimes, it works itself back down to working condition again. Then after a few days of driving, goes out of control again.
Also, after a tantalizing few days of the driver's side back door opening, it decided to be broken again, so we are back to shoving poor George through the window, to get him buckled into his car seat properly.
I am pretty sure my truck is possessed. It really seems to only work properly when it wants to. The temper tantrums and drama it puts me through are just insane.
Pretty much that's all for now. For those of you in the middle of all this recent snow, stay safe! And warm!
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Dead Turkey = Earth Mother Resurection
The Earth Mother seems to be back. All it took was a dead turkey, to resurrect her. And take my kids' dislike of all things homemade to an entirely new level. Maybe some day they will appreciate home made dinners. But for now, my kids who rarely get fast food, only want pizza. That's about it.
Anyhow, after Thanksgiving, I had the remnants of our 22 pound turkey in the fridge. So, I made an enormous pot of broth with it.
"Mom. What are you doing to the turkey bones?"
"Making soup broth."
"With bones."
"Yes. With bones."
"That. Is disgusting. Why would you DO that? You expect us to EAT this??"
"Did you not eat the meat that was ON these bones, just the other day?"
"This is different. This is disgusting."
"We aren't eating the BONES! They just help flavor the stock!"
"You are making bone soup. That's just wrong."
"OH EM GEE. Go find something to do."
The other day, Kaila was complaining of a sore throat, so, after work, I came home and made a nice pot of chicken noodle soup, using my homemade broth. This soup looked like it should be photographed for magazines. It looked PERFECT. It tasted AMAZING. It was the most wonderful chicken noodle soup every created in the history of chicken noodle soup. And the broth! The most soothing coating ever, over the throat. Doctors should be able to sell this in pill form, because it was magical.
The kids. They hated it. They refused to eat the bone soup. Not having it. Kaila has a doctor appointment for her throat first thing tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, while stirring this huge pot of simmering broth, I decided that I should start making my own bread. We go through ungodly amounts of bread every week. Almost a loaf a day. (100% whole wheat, of course. Because white bread is bad. All bread is bad. Anything made with flour, sugar, and any wheat not cracked with stones in the great outdoors 100 miles away from civilization and subsequent pollution and smog, is bad. Pretty much, unless it is something you haven't grown yourself, using only pure seeds, in pure dirt, with pure water - it's bad. No pressure. You're just killing your kids, pets, selves, we're all gonna die.)
So, last time I went shopping, I bought some yeast. And flour. Because, all the recipes I have found on Pinterest, state that white bread is a good starter bread. I can get all healthy with oats and honey and whole wheat after I master a decent white loaf. Besides; comparing bread made with only a few ingredients, to the ingredients on the loaves from the store, I can't imagine this white bread will kill as as quickly as the wheat bread from the store.
First things first. Bread pans. I have a few. I use them for meatloaf. Those will do for now.
Ingredients. Check.
Wondering how to store it? Where does one get bread bags? Or, since they are smaller than loaves of bread from the store, maybe just large plastic zip lock bags?
Time. Well, The weekends. That I don't work.
What if I need to make more than two loaves? That will last us only till Monday.
Worry about it later.
This weekend, I have every intention, of trying to make homemade bread. Which makes me wish I had made homemade jams this past summer. Which makes me wish I had learned how to can things. Which also makes me wish we had picked more berries, and frozen more things. Which makes me all determined to do it all next year.
I suspect the makers of Captain Morgan will have healthy Christmas bonuses next Christmas, because, I cannot make it at home, and I am bound to drive myself into drinking large quantities.
Speaking of Christmas, The halls are decked, the stockings are hung, and the sugarplums all bought and tucked away. And daily, I hear "I WANT IT!!!!!" Bouncing off the walls of my home every time a commercial is on the television. George is pretty upfront about it. He hopped right into Santa's lap at the store last weekend, and shrugged "Oh, I just want everything." Which speaks eons about my parenting abilities. My kids seem to have missed the entire point of the season. I'm working on it though. I am determined to do away with the 'gimmies' somehow.
This year we have the prettiest tree ever. It's on the list of all time favorites for me. I did note, with some alarm last night, that it seems to be shedding at a faster pace than I am okay with. At this point, I am just hoping that it still has some needles on it Christmas morning. Or, I could take the beautiful fire hazard down, and tell them they were all bad. No presents means no need for a tree, right? (Calm down, for heaven's sake! I wouldn't REALLY do that.)
That's about it. I am still recovering from my recent 11 day vacation. I didn't go anywhere; just got things done around the house. And realized that, my being home meant Bearded Man took it to mean he could sleep in daily and have frequent naps and hang out in the neighbor's garage. And that we have been married long enough that, not speaking to him does not bother him. It only means that those long periods of rest were uninterrupted. Obviously I need new tactics. I will have to think on this.
Till next time!
Anyhow, after Thanksgiving, I had the remnants of our 22 pound turkey in the fridge. So, I made an enormous pot of broth with it.
"Mom. What are you doing to the turkey bones?"
"Making soup broth."
"With bones."
"Yes. With bones."
"That. Is disgusting. Why would you DO that? You expect us to EAT this??"
"Did you not eat the meat that was ON these bones, just the other day?"
"This is different. This is disgusting."
"We aren't eating the BONES! They just help flavor the stock!"
"You are making bone soup. That's just wrong."
"OH EM GEE. Go find something to do."
The other day, Kaila was complaining of a sore throat, so, after work, I came home and made a nice pot of chicken noodle soup, using my homemade broth. This soup looked like it should be photographed for magazines. It looked PERFECT. It tasted AMAZING. It was the most wonderful chicken noodle soup every created in the history of chicken noodle soup. And the broth! The most soothing coating ever, over the throat. Doctors should be able to sell this in pill form, because it was magical.
The kids. They hated it. They refused to eat the bone soup. Not having it. Kaila has a doctor appointment for her throat first thing tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, while stirring this huge pot of simmering broth, I decided that I should start making my own bread. We go through ungodly amounts of bread every week. Almost a loaf a day. (100% whole wheat, of course. Because white bread is bad. All bread is bad. Anything made with flour, sugar, and any wheat not cracked with stones in the great outdoors 100 miles away from civilization and subsequent pollution and smog, is bad. Pretty much, unless it is something you haven't grown yourself, using only pure seeds, in pure dirt, with pure water - it's bad. No pressure. You're just killing your kids, pets, selves, we're all gonna die.)
So, last time I went shopping, I bought some yeast. And flour. Because, all the recipes I have found on Pinterest, state that white bread is a good starter bread. I can get all healthy with oats and honey and whole wheat after I master a decent white loaf. Besides; comparing bread made with only a few ingredients, to the ingredients on the loaves from the store, I can't imagine this white bread will kill as as quickly as the wheat bread from the store.
First things first. Bread pans. I have a few. I use them for meatloaf. Those will do for now.
Ingredients. Check.
Wondering how to store it? Where does one get bread bags? Or, since they are smaller than loaves of bread from the store, maybe just large plastic zip lock bags?
Time. Well, The weekends. That I don't work.
What if I need to make more than two loaves? That will last us only till Monday.
Worry about it later.
This weekend, I have every intention, of trying to make homemade bread. Which makes me wish I had made homemade jams this past summer. Which makes me wish I had learned how to can things. Which also makes me wish we had picked more berries, and frozen more things. Which makes me all determined to do it all next year.
I suspect the makers of Captain Morgan will have healthy Christmas bonuses next Christmas, because, I cannot make it at home, and I am bound to drive myself into drinking large quantities.
Speaking of Christmas, The halls are decked, the stockings are hung, and the sugarplums all bought and tucked away. And daily, I hear "I WANT IT!!!!!" Bouncing off the walls of my home every time a commercial is on the television. George is pretty upfront about it. He hopped right into Santa's lap at the store last weekend, and shrugged "Oh, I just want everything." Which speaks eons about my parenting abilities. My kids seem to have missed the entire point of the season. I'm working on it though. I am determined to do away with the 'gimmies' somehow.
This year we have the prettiest tree ever. It's on the list of all time favorites for me. I did note, with some alarm last night, that it seems to be shedding at a faster pace than I am okay with. At this point, I am just hoping that it still has some needles on it Christmas morning. Or, I could take the beautiful fire hazard down, and tell them they were all bad. No presents means no need for a tree, right? (Calm down, for heaven's sake! I wouldn't REALLY do that.)
That's about it. I am still recovering from my recent 11 day vacation. I didn't go anywhere; just got things done around the house. And realized that, my being home meant Bearded Man took it to mean he could sleep in daily and have frequent naps and hang out in the neighbor's garage. And that we have been married long enough that, not speaking to him does not bother him. It only means that those long periods of rest were uninterrupted. Obviously I need new tactics. I will have to think on this.
Till next time!
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