tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25289644201808613312024-02-19T10:23:24.416-06:00The Grass Widow's DiaryAll of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.comBlogger1200125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-14572727183205551392013-08-04T20:32:00.000-05:002013-08-04T20:32:17.624-05:00I'm a CodfishWe spent the past week in Oregon, walking on foggy beaches, eating the <a href="http://www.lazy-susan-cafe.com/index.html" target="_blank">best marionberry scones in the universe</a>, and generally decompressing until we could barely lift our heads from our pillows each morning. We also ate a lot of fish, as you would expect from being next to the ocean and all. Apparently we ate enough to put me in the mood to cook more for dinner tonight; in fact, the fish practically jumped out of the case at Whole Foods today and begged me to buy them (and as an aside, isn't it nice to go back to<em> your</em> grocery store after vacation? So homey. <em>So not-lost</em>. So nice.) Anyway, usually I'm nervous about cooking fish. I leave it to Husband and his magical grill basket: he makes the best grilled sockeye salmon you'll ever eat. But even though I'd give myself a B- most nights with fish in the kitchen, this time was definitely an A. <br />
<br />
Here we go: <u>Cod for Four</u>.<br />
<br />
1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds cod (this cod was black cod, and it was perfect)<br />
2 shallots, peeled and diced<br />
2 Meyer lemons, zested and sliced into wedges<br />
4T butter<br />
1/4 cup white wine<br />
Sea salt and fresh ground pepper<br />
<br />
Slice the cod into 4 equal pieces and set aside. Melt 3/4 of the butter in a large sauté pan and add the shallots. Saute for a few minutes until soft, and then throw in the lemon zest. Cook another minute and then remove and set aside.<br />
<br />
Add the rest of the butter, let it melt, and then add the cod, skin side down. Cook for several minutes over medium heat. While the fish is cooking, squeeze the juice out of one of the lemons, mix in a cup with the wine, and set aside. Turn the fish and cook 2 minutes more. Add the lemon juice + wine and cook 2 minutes more. Take the fish out, place on a plate, and salt and pepper it.<br />
<br />
Add the shallots and zest back into the pan and cook with the remaining sauce for 1-2 minutes. Pour shallots, zest and sauce over the fish and serve each piece with a wedge of lemon. Save 2 wedges for your sparking water and feel even more virtuous.<br />
<br />
I served this with heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella, and a delicious <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/zucchini-gratin-recipe2/index.html" target="_blank">zucchini gratin</a> I made before I started on the fish. Mwah! Delicious! Enjoy!Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-59871134480052737552013-06-16T20:11:00.001-05:002013-06-16T20:11:15.953-05:00AmbrosiaForget all you have ever known about "ambrosia" as dessert - you know, mini marshmallows, pineapple, something creamy holding it all together - yuck, in other words.<br />
<br />
I have figured out how it was really made.<br />
<br />
When the Greek gods were chowing it down, it consisted of<br />
<br />
Strawberries, sliced<br />
Peaches, same<br />
Fresh basil, cut into very fine strips<br />
<br />
all mixed together and topped with Ricotta cream, which take about 2 minutes and consists of<br />
<br />
15 oz whole milk ricotta cheese, <u>mixed in the blender</u> with<br />
2 T sugar and<br />
a generous squirt of honey<br />
<br />
That's it. Simple. Perfect. Amazing.<br />
<br />
Happy Father's Day.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-57355064720555340192013-05-30T17:44:00.002-05:002013-05-30T17:46:42.292-05:00House Rules<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some friends and I were talking recently about having simple "house rules" for kids to follow. Their children are much younger than mine, and the rules consist of lists of what to do at bedtime, how much TV and computer time you can have each day of summer break, etc. These lists are <u>great ideas</u> to help keep things simple and clear for kids, and to help avoid having to repeat yourself until your voice gives out ("did you brush your teeth?" "then brush your teeth." "did you put your clothes in the hamper?" "well, do it now." and so on).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But in this house, we have come to the point where we need other rules. Different rules. Rules that make mom break out in hives as she writes them down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We have, ladies and gentlemen, <strong>House Rules for Growing Boys</strong>. Ahem:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span> If you
are dating someone, we need her name and home phone number. Yes, we will talk
to her parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
2.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Members
of the opposite sex are not allowed upstairs.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">3.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Members
of the opposite sex may not come to the house when no adult is home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
4. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Rules 2
and 3 apply at your girlfriend’s house, even if her parents don’t say so.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">5.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you
are dating someone and your grades drop, you will have to stop dating her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
6.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Dating
someone will never be an excuse to stop participating in extra-curricular
activities, or to avoid signing up for them.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">7.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Use your
cell phone to talk to or text with friends/girlfriends. Please don’t tie up the
house phone for long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
8.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Cell
phones will be downstairs on the dining room table by 9pm on school nights,
10pm on<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>weekends.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">9.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We will
read all your texts. We have an app for that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
10.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You’re not
allowed on social networking sites. Sorry.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wrote the first draft, and Husband edited. I handed the boys each a copy today when they got home, and posted a third copy on the fridge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">You see, One asked me the other day if he could date someone (or was that a capital offense at his age? He apparently needed to know.). And Two - as much as I hate to admit it - is getting a cell phone at the end of next week when school lets out. It scares me a bit, but they are growing older. I'd rather tackle these difficult things up front than make it up as we go along. I'm not that way about everything; bedtime, for instance, has never been more than a lofty goal. And many other decisions have been made in the past (and will be made in the future) based on what feels right given all the circumstances. But these kinds of rules - especially the dating-related ones - I want to get right from the outset. I want expectations to be completely clear. First of all, it's an emotional topic (in a teen's mind in particular), and one that does not lend itself to "what feels right for Mom at this particular moment". It's also a subject on which I don't expect a lot of communication from the boys. They may not want me in this part of their lives, for the most part. And really, except for setting out the expectations their father and I have for their behavior, I don't think we belong there unless expressly invited. Because of that, I want to make our expectations as straightforward as possible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So here we go. I'm sure the list will grow and change as the boys do. Wish me luck! I need it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And a drink. I need a glass of wine right now -- badly.</span>Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-61634139507594131922013-05-19T20:56:00.000-05:002013-05-19T20:56:15.224-05:00Pulled Pork Sliders are Served in HeavenEvery time I make pulled pork I screw it up. <br />
<br />
Every. Single. Time.<br />
<br />
Except today, which is truly a miraculous happening. Here's the recipe that occasioned the wonder. I started with a recipe in the Williams Sonoma catalog (no, really) and played from there.<br />
<br />
1 4lb pork shoulder (pork butt, whatever you call it. I'll stick with shoulder, if only to avoid as many "butt" jokes as possible)<br />
<br />
1 T kosher salt and 1 T freshly ground pepper, rubbed onto pork shoulder<br />
<br />
1 yellow onion, chopped<br />
4 cloves garlic<br />
2 T Dijon mustard<br />
Generous squirt ketchup<br />
1/2 cup cider vinegar (I use Mrs. Bragg's, which I'm convinced is somehow healthy)<br />
2 cups low salt chicken broth<br />
Dash or two cayenne pepper<br />
<br />
Place the six ingredients above in the bottom of a large dutch oven, and put the pork shoulder (with salt and pepper rubbed in) directly on top. Cover tightly with a lid and bake at 300 degrees for 4 hours. FOUR HOURS. You can check it before that, but it needs to cook until it's falling apart --- and that means FOUR HOURS. Take a nap.<br />
<br />
When the pork can be pulled apart with a fork easily, take out and let rest. Meanwhile, spoon the fat off the top of the sauce, and add the following:<br />
<br />
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar<br />
1/4 cup brown sugar<br />
1/2 cup ketchup<br />
3 tsp Worchestershire sauce<br />
<br />
Keep the sauce warm and place the pork in a large bowl. "Pull" or shred the meat, and then pour the sauce over the top. Toss and serve on toasted, buttered slider buns. Wowza.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-14656962733621236572013-04-26T23:24:00.001-05:002013-04-26T23:24:34.689-05:00Chihuahuas always WinGypsy, our half-feral two year old Boxer, has the chest of a heavyweight champion and the bark of a 5lb toy dog. The boys are embarrassed by her yips; Two so much so that he's written a story about how this travesty came to be. Here we go...<br />
<br />
Once upon a time, when Gypsy was feral, she met a small Chihuahua. Gypsy was hungry -- <em>very hungry</em> -- so she said to the Chihuahua, "I am so hungry, I don't care that you are a dog and not a cat. I will eat you."<br />
<br />
"Beware!" said the Chihuahua. "I am a magical dog, and I have the power to curse you if you hurt me."<br />
<br />
"Ha!" said wild Gypsy. "You are my lunch!" And she pounced and ate him up in one bite.<br />
<br />
But woe be it to Gypsy, the Chihuahua was indeed a powerful, magical dog. As Gypsy jumped on him, he had just enough time to mutter a spell, and he cursed Gypsy with his last breath. The curse? That Gypsy would grow big and strong, but no matter how big she was, she would always bark like a Chihuahua.<br />
<br />
And so she does.<br />
<br />
The End.<br />
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Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-51763408240388582802012-07-04T21:59:00.004-05:002012-07-04T22:02:48.809-05:00Food on the FourthWe didn't do much to celebrate the Fourth - it seems odd to be off in the middle of the week for one day, frankly. But we did cook, as usual, and it was wonderful.
<br />
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Tomatoes and mozzerella. I was very lucky with some beefsteak tomatoes at Whole Foods - when I cut into them they smelled like childhood summer.
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<br />An enormous pile of meat, compliments of Husband's copious grilling talents.
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<br />Broccoli rabe with shallots and bacon. Mmmmm, bacon.
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Elotes, since One can't eat corn on the cob right now, what with braces and everything. It might taste even better this way - I need to eat a lot more of it so I can make up my mind about that.
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And of course, s'mores. <br />
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You know it's summer. Even if it only hit 90 today.
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<br />We've watched the NYC and DC fireworks on TV, are going to read the Declaration of Independence and then head off to bed. Hope your Fourth was a good one!</div>Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-35907157386987882472012-04-15T06:45:00.000-05:002012-04-15T06:45:00.596-05:00John Updike: Seven Stanzas at EasterMake no mistake: if He rose at all <br />it was as His body; <br />if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules <br />reknit, the amino acids rekindle, <br />the Church will fall<br /><br />It was not as the flowers, <br />each soft Spring recurrent; <br />it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled <br />eyes of the eleven apostles; <br />it was as His flesh: ours.<br /><br />The same hinged thumbs and toes, <br />the same valved heart <br />that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then <br />regathered out of enduring Might <br />new strength to enclose.<br /><br />Let us not mock God with metaphor, <br />analogy, sidestepping transcendence; <br />making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the <br />faded credulity of earlier ages: <br />let us walk through the door.<br /><br />The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché, <br />not a stone in a story, <br />but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow <br />grinding of time will eclipse for each of us <br />the wide light of day.<br /><br />And if we will have an angel at the tomb, <br />make it a real angel, <br />weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair, <br />opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen <br />spun on a definite loom.<br /><br />Let us not seek to make it less monstrous, <br />for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty, <br />lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are <br />embarrassed by the miracle, <br />and crushed by remonstrance.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-79868626691642035342012-01-21T18:15:00.005-06:002012-01-21T18:23:09.431-06:00Welcome Home GypsyHere is the latest addition to the Grass Widow Household, the no-longer-wandering Gypsy. Two weeks ago she was in a kill shelter when <a href="http://www.lonestarboxerrescue.com/">Lone Star Boxer Rescue</a> swooped in to save her. She spent two weeks being kenneled at a vet, she was spayed yesterday, and she came home with us today. She is unbelievably good and sweet, full of kisses she wants to give away, and instantly, madly in love with Knight.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpL4a8QVgm2WTj8l-8ePGzCf_gUMdbyToCexgGF4XYbWQuQ5LM0bcdu-y84c2Jg1GRR-Cdba_v5AGbSuc8WB-r6JT51YMeWiM0-_u-mJwraXOCYdAjL9i7-DpcsxI8_kswg_EkkVK7RaGu/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 265px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700244667682999154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpL4a8QVgm2WTj8l-8ePGzCf_gUMdbyToCexgGF4XYbWQuQ5LM0bcdu-y84c2Jg1GRR-Cdba_v5AGbSuc8WB-r6JT51YMeWiM0-_u-mJwraXOCYdAjL9i7-DpcsxI8_kswg_EkkVK7RaGu/s400/DSC_0008.JPG" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYq8e7BZeI-x2qQwNZbD8y0mMyKr1v6yEjFYSAZV93Ock_PLKc6SwD75kNX4vQ4tj7R3bnwI466JRT1d-2CNK2PTgqSKwgKHpEnr37Il0hH7Sz8md4Y2eNa2TrewNqr45KiRT5xt561RkP/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 265px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700244659144459074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYq8e7BZeI-x2qQwNZbD8y0mMyKr1v6yEjFYSAZV93Ock_PLKc6SwD75kNX4vQ4tj7R3bnwI466JRT1d-2CNK2PTgqSKwgKHpEnr37Il0hH7Sz8md4Y2eNa2TrewNqr45KiRT5xt561RkP/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" /></a> In other words, a keeper.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-33671168190395416992012-01-11T21:09:00.003-06:002012-01-11T21:23:42.278-06:00Slow-Roasted DuckI made this recipe tonight for the first time and it was divine. I served it plain, but if you wanted to deglaze the roasting pan while the duck is resting and make a sauce to pour over the duck, that would be a great idea, too. I'm thinking a little dry white wine and maybe a smidgen of honey? Scrumptious.<br /><br />Here's the duck recipe itself. Well-worth the wait of several hours' roasting time.<br /><br />1 5-pound duck, backbone cut out, flattened, rinsed and dried<br />Kosher salt<br />Freshly ground black pepper<br />Garlic powder<br />Onion powder<br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Season duck generously inside and out with salt and pepper, and season the skinless side only with the onion powder and garlic powder. Place in a roasting pan skin-side up and cover with foil.<br /><br />2. Roast duck for 10 minutes, then lower the temperature to 300 degrees and roast for 2 1/2 hours, skimming off fat at least once.<br /><br />3. Remove foil. Roast duck for 1/2 to 3/4 of an hour more, until the skin is gloriously brown.<br /><br />4. Transfer duck to cutting board and let rest 15 minutes. Cut into eight pieces and serve.<br /><br />Makes enough for three normal people or two hungry ones. Derived from <a href="http://events.nytimes.com/recipes/10807/Slow-Roasted-Duck/recipe.html">this recipe</a>, which I didn't copy in full mostly because I think beets and turnips are some of the worst tasting things in the universe, and I wan't going to let them near my pwecious bird.<br /><br />Oh, and don't forget to save the duck drippings in a bowl and skim off the golden goodness of the duck fat when it's cooled. Save in the 'fridge to use when frying the best potatoes you'll ever eat.<br /><br />Enjoy.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-45756056053312564452012-01-10T09:35:00.006-06:002012-01-10T13:14:27.224-06:00Let's go with "Strongly Disagree"I <a href="http://thegrasswidowsdiary.blogspot.com/2011/11/singularity.html">wrote some weeks ago</a> about selfishness and the lack of understanding of what makes most of the world's personal relationships go 'round, after reading the Atlantic's piece <a href="http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2011/11/all-the-single-ladies/8654/"><span style="font-style: italic;">All the Single Ladies</span></a>. Now there's an even fluffier (that's actually a good thing, since the Atlantic piece was as dense as bad fruitcake) <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/08/fashion/why-men-cant-stand-to-be-alone-after-a-breakup-or-a-divorce.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all">bit of nonsense</a> in the New York Times, by author Dominique Browning. In this paean to single womanhood - written, perhaps, as <a href="http://althouse.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-love-excitement-of-coming-out-here.html">Ann Althouse has<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span> posited</a>, to make the Times' large contingent of 50-something female readers feel good - Browning lies on her deck after a fall and thinks happy thoughts about being a single woman. Some gems from this insightful piece include:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Because many women, <span style="font-weight:bold;">once released from marriage</span>, seem to feel that it would take an act of madness to move back into a setup that involves not only housekeeping in all its manifold time-sucking beauty but also husband-keeping."</span> [my emphasis] Really? How about the attendant "wife-keeping" that goes on in a marriage? The "to have and to hold" promised in so many wedding vows? And is the time-suck known as "house-keeping" (never mind that I suspect there's a woman hired for this purpose in Browning's household, given that she is financially able to live alone in Manhattan) really that much harder when there are two people in the house instead of one? Even if you reduce a husband to no better than an annoying pet, as Browning does, certainly even they can be trained to take out the trash and load the dishwasher now and then.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Women alone eat breakfast at 11 if we feel like it, lunch at 3 and dinner never if that’s the way the day is winding down. Single women do not worry about cooking unless we want to. And we don’t want to unless we like to."</span> I have not only a husband but (gasp!) two male children in the house, and I, too, manage to eat pretty much whatever and whenever I want. I don't cook when I don't want to; Husband is more than happy to sample the delights of the Whole Foods hot bar for dinner, and the boys are always up for Chick-fil-a. Mealtimes don't seem like such a big problem to me, <span style="font-style: italic;">sister</span>.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />"We love the give and take of making our own decisions."</span> There is give and take in making one's own decisions? Who are you compromising with, exactly? Be real: there is no compromise when you live alone. I know this from listening to my own mother, who asks disbelievingly <span style="font-style: italic;">"what do you mean, you didn't your first choice on where you're going for vacation this year? how can this be?"</span> And then I have to patiently explain to her that when you are married and you respect your spouse, you don't always get exactly what you want every single minute of the day. This confuses her, as it obviously confuses Ms. Browning.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />"A marriage is a lot of work. Strike that. A man is a lot of work."</span> Let's ask Ms. Browning's ex if he thinks women are a lot of work, shall we? I bet we can all guess what he will say.<br /><br />And so the Times and the Atlantic go ever more frequently for Vanity Fair's audience, and put these poorly written, confusing pieces of misandry where real thought used to be. I'm not surprised, nor am I very disappointed. Pandering to one's audience, no matter how low-brow, is a time-honored tradition in the media. And think of the money it saves those readers who actually care about the content of the magazine or newspaper, rather than just the aging name on the cover! Sounds like a win-win situation for me.<br /><br />Perhaps now someone from the Times will cab over to Ms. Browning's place and pick her up off her deck. All those assistant editors have to be good for something...Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-57021464122415901182012-01-09T22:36:00.002-06:002012-01-09T22:38:58.823-06:00Hunting UnicornsIt's easy when they walk right into your dining room. I didn't even need to feed this one - not that I'd begin to know what unicorns eat, mind you.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1lq7SGHnIeOB4E5dMyiKtR5B92rAgPu90NqKs8adMEv5gb1GiOF49-Xdn_pSeHrcvv_xrANPsUWnP8A_CITnle5tLKEIYphwZtuVBOYf03mjAffV9gjW-qu4wKES4EactWk4-vjbq8kU/s1600/DSC_0001.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695857916003094658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-1lq7SGHnIeOB4E5dMyiKtR5B92rAgPu90NqKs8adMEv5gb1GiOF49-Xdn_pSeHrcvv_xrANPsUWnP8A_CITnle5tLKEIYphwZtuVBOYf03mjAffV9gjW-qu4wKES4EactWk4-vjbq8kU/s400/DSC_0001.JPG" /></a>Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-14541204240418630862012-01-09T14:00:00.005-06:002012-01-09T22:41:09.106-06:00Anyone for a Swim?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTri9a1ktiMSKDkQ-ClVLmwR90zoO8QnlMBNSBUhj3GGlrFh99c7y6dIh_68p4PI640qsQJz933T071A583dfeT7REIkhSSi37aac5dzLlOV2LHO4u6VE_UJWd-cx16PrktADteLobxvdp/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695725115831579538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTri9a1ktiMSKDkQ-ClVLmwR90zoO8QnlMBNSBUhj3GGlrFh99c7y6dIh_68p4PI640qsQJz933T071A583dfeT7REIkhSSi37aac5dzLlOV2LHO4u6VE_UJWd-cx16PrktADteLobxvdp/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" /></a> Five inches of rain (and counting) since last night; the backyard is now a lake. Those brown patches are not dry land; they're mulch and leaf mould floating on top of the water.<br /><br />My lawn will grow back! Praise be! I love living in a swamp - or, at least, I'm glad to have my swamp back.<br /><br />UPDATE: the water is 6" deep in the back of the backyard swamp. I know this because I threw sticks into the deepest parts and let Knight do the measuring for me. As Husband frequently comments: <em>"you're not a very nice person."</em> Knight pouted for some time after his information-gathering session outside. I really don't blame him. I know I didn't want to go out there.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-42604748929622174652012-01-05T21:00:00.005-06:002012-01-05T21:24:05.823-06:00Birth Day SongsOkay, this meme is going around Facebook - it's about finding out the #1 song the day you were born. I did my own, that was bad enough:<br /><br /><iframe height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/-cUaO1P2mfo?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="420"></iframe><br /><br />Then I looked up Husband's. My apologies to all of you.<br /><br /><iframe height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/izQB2-Kmiic?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="420"></iframe><br /><br />And One's. He says he might vomit now that he knows this. I'm sorry, my love, but from a mommy's perspective, it's quite sweet: <em>"I knew I loved you before I met you. I think I dreamed you into life... I have been waiting all my life." </em>Cheesy? Of course. But kinda cute...<br /><br /><iframe height="246" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jjnmICxvoVY?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="425"></iframe><br /><br />I'm not sharing Two's with him. Eight is a little young for a song with the word "ass" in the first line, don't you think? And this pose? Ms. Lopez, my son does not need to know about you.<br /><br /><iframe height="288" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4FWgAlgRqRc?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="425"></iframe><br /><br />So we're 1 for 4 in the Grass Widow Household (in my opinion, anyway). I knew there was a reason I've always disliked Top 40 music.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-10571843488315640932012-01-05T19:17:00.002-06:002012-01-05T19:23:09.872-06:00Speaking GreekOne and I were having a conversation about Husband's and my days in college tonight, mostly consisting of him throwing out questions here and there and me giving highly sanitized answers to same. At one point I started a sentence <em>"Now your father's fraternity..."</em> and One interrupted:<br /><br /><strong><em>"Dad's fraternity was the one full of nerds, wasn't it?"</em></strong><br /><br />I don't even begin to know how to respond to that. Anyone want to take a shot?Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-29512161985453281032011-12-31T20:43:00.002-06:002011-12-31T21:00:20.828-06:00ResolvedI am not the type to make New Year's resolutions; in fact, I'm not sure that I have ever done so. But motivated in part by a friend's loss of 15lbs (over Christmas no less!) and also by Venomous Kate's <a href="http://www.electricvenom.com/my-venomous-life/my-venomous-new-years-resolutions/">recently-posted resolutions</a>, I am making an exception this year.<br /><br />First of all, as a general resolution that effects how seriously I take the rest of these, I resolve to <strong>worry less</strong> in 2012. I desperately need to try to take more things in stride, and to look actively and consistently for less stress in my life instead of more. In addition, if such things can be accomplished at the same time, I would like to:<br /><br />1. Lose 15-20lbs<br />2. Quit drinking diet soda <em>forever<br /></em>3. Exercise several times a week, even if it's just an evening walk<br />4. Pray more and cuss less<br />5. Speak and think positively - both about myself <em>and</em> those around me<br /><br />I could go on forever, but likely all of these things will still need quite a bit of work one year from now, so I think I'll stop now.<br /><br />Happy New Year, y'all.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-50478718901857583652011-12-29T09:59:00.003-06:002011-12-29T10:38:38.376-06:00Twenty Questions<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">"People are not objects"</span><br /></div><br />That was the bumper sticker on the ridiculously underpowered Mercedes sedan in front of me on the Tollway this morning. As an aside, a 200 series, really? With four people in it? I'm surprised it could actually accelerate enough to make in onto the freeway. Blech. People do really stupid things for what they perceive as status, yes?<br /><br />Anyway, <span style="font-style: italic;">the sticker</span>. What does this mean to you, that people are not objects? That you've figured out basic human biology? That you remember "animal, vegetable or mineral" from childhood? Or what? It had some veeerrryy tiny print underneath it, that another driver could only read if they slammed into the Mercedes from behind - sort of the last thing you see before you're dead, that kind of print. Not. Helpful. All I know is, it is a beautiful sunny day, ELO was very loud and cheerful, and sententious, self-righteous people need to keep themselves to themselves a little bit more.<br /><br />Thank you very much. That is all.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-36256942354197026582011-12-28T11:00:00.000-06:002011-12-28T11:00:07.167-06:00Battle of the Go-Go'sTwo has come to love these little toys, so they were (of course) the main feature on his <a href="http://thegrasswidowsdiary.blogspot.com/2011/12/belief.html">note to Santa </a>this year. I like them, too, even though they do make Husband sing <em>"We Got the Beat"</em> every time he sees them. One is willing to play these with his brother at home, although I think he would draw the line at bringing them to school, as Two loves to do. Here the two of them are, enjoying Christmas vacation with small, brightly-colored plastic objects.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BXn_279Oway_ujiuN1l4PqW2v-nOtpcvqreMIosNm34Sv8KlijeBqj4emxsLK-rwzqKSyt3RsXR4gmtZMzBcC4tSC4PlrOvvtmtgo7TIIa0BY7ZKLAgFMiJDMA3kmGvIEZa0zdm1UKcE/s1600/DSC_0185.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690669947666187186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-BXn_279Oway_ujiuN1l4PqW2v-nOtpcvqreMIosNm34Sv8KlijeBqj4emxsLK-rwzqKSyt3RsXR4gmtZMzBcC4tSC4PlrOvvtmtgo7TIIa0BY7ZKLAgFMiJDMA3kmGvIEZa0zdm1UKcE/s400/DSC_0185.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqchkbGP6l77qCNDx08944HkX4Dzw_r3KPaUUeKJg0tYM0cDVk1MPq2cr2W7ReDGnFBjHD4GY2akYdhuDVzjBpcYLmrjO8tn0vMS12txlcIi6o_EcxMTlHKqWWd2XihnhrdaVgW6B6rt1t/s1600/DSC_0179.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690669941222696290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqchkbGP6l77qCNDx08944HkX4Dzw_r3KPaUUeKJg0tYM0cDVk1MPq2cr2W7ReDGnFBjHD4GY2akYdhuDVzjBpcYLmrjO8tn0vMS12txlcIi6o_EcxMTlHKqWWd2XihnhrdaVgW6B6rt1t/s400/DSC_0179.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ90mjA6dNrBq2b61XyFouwey_Qucx0JOSdevQSky0Yx17Q8wsnBBimUBYM2T8ThpgLhxv4qOKlFIkahMjnxsVeDMx7hpF63Lf_DNoEamhE9Xddq5PajerH4rymmQmiV7rTklPhgwRdpSw/s1600/DSC_0184.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690670581415033474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ90mjA6dNrBq2b61XyFouwey_Qucx0JOSdevQSky0Yx17Q8wsnBBimUBYM2T8ThpgLhxv4qOKlFIkahMjnxsVeDMx7hpF63Lf_DNoEamhE9Xddq5PajerH4rymmQmiV7rTklPhgwRdpSw/s400/DSC_0184.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgm8U7G6XmLz4vj7qe1A5F3b9V6DBmWs9zrgyUfDKOIPhXBhIy92TZN8gwa8tv77X9v15YH9KUj66GiiQ-S3I6nFNIGsBMLRojZkAzPG3zG3MRnBHNiSzI32anNQ7yGMRHYDw5WqDcUYR5/s1600/DSC_0171.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690669955381253282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgm8U7G6XmLz4vj7qe1A5F3b9V6DBmWs9zrgyUfDKOIPhXBhIy92TZN8gwa8tv77X9v15YH9KUj66GiiQ-S3I6nFNIGsBMLRojZkAzPG3zG3MRnBHNiSzI32anNQ7yGMRHYDw5WqDcUYR5/s400/DSC_0171.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrftECaNPU3qUm2MER4Y2nfyzAw80npqF9Y1BvzZfqe6Pjs8R5_hWQ5DrIzkhSdLIy_lUbFQwbsUiS78OGz8Aj_AquHcnHXRxz8VYivNFwp6K8MSKuZDIYeOmj2ILcC9kDn2b6OqzFywXS/s1600/DSC_0182_edited-1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690669954765806514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrftECaNPU3qUm2MER4Y2nfyzAw80npqF9Y1BvzZfqe6Pjs8R5_hWQ5DrIzkhSdLIy_lUbFQwbsUiS78OGz8Aj_AquHcnHXRxz8VYivNFwp6K8MSKuZDIYeOmj2ILcC9kDn2b6OqzFywXS/s400/DSC_0182_edited-1.JPG" /></a>Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-41113500266529748692011-12-27T18:47:00.001-06:002011-12-27T18:47:00.153-06:00Comfort FoodI made this Braised Red Cabbage dish as a part of Christmas dinner, and <strong>wow</strong>, was it a perfect side dish for a cold, rainy day. It paired so well with prime rib; I suspect it would do the same with any hearty beef dish. I'm not usually much of a cabbage fan so I didn't tinker with this one at all - and thankfully it came out just right the first time. It comes from one of my favorite cookbooks, David Waltuck's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Staff-Meals-Chanterelle-David-Waltuck/dp/0761116982/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324961409&sr=8-1">Staff Meals</a>, which is sadly out of print. Here you go:<br /><br /><u>Braised Red Cabbage</u><br /><br />5 strips bacon cut into 1/4" pieces<br />4 T unsalted butter<br />2 medium red onions, halved and cut into thin slices<br />2 minced cloves garlic<br />3 T sugar<br />1 large head purple cabbage, cored and sliced thin<br />1 1/2 cups low sodium chicken stock (I like Pacific brand)<br />1/2 cup dry red wine<br />1/4 cup honey<br />2 T red wine vinegar<br />2 T cider vinegar<br />2 bay leaves<br />kosher salt and fresh ground pepper to taste<br /><br />Start with a very large pot. Saute the bacon and butter over medium heat for a bit, then add the onions and cook until translucent (10-15 minutes). Add the garlic, cook a minute, then add the sugar and cook a minute more.<br /><br />Add the cabbage along with everything that's left. Increase the heat to high and bring things to a boil, then reduce to medium low. Cover and simmer for at least an hour - maybe an hour and a half. You want the cabbage tender but not mushy. Remove bay leaves, add more salt and pepper if needed, and serve.<br /><br />Note: getting everything together before you start this recipe is a must. I was trying to prep this and au gratin potatoes at the same time and arrgh!, my head almost flew off. Next time I will do my mise en place and things will be more organized, yes? Yes.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-41665770453621520982011-12-26T21:05:00.002-06:002011-12-26T22:03:27.698-06:00Two's View of ChristmasTwo is a bon vivant. He is the child who ate eight pieces of candy, a Cadbury bar, Pop Rocks, and a serving of chocolate mousse on Christmas day alone. But he's also more serious that most people (including me, most of the time) give him credit for.<br /><br />Here is his picture that he drew for his 3rd grade school concert - they ran a slideshow of "what the holidays mean to you" during one of the songs, and this is what Christmas means to Two.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCUFrNkfoeNex7y48T1rgrgQIfhFX9wWj5EeagicwWD7wVsg2Ah_jtADeXxO9aOCn_TQcgyqI_qPHtU4DZnbNdoP3TTcCQZtahdy8K7BUuk9Su9OQmJfKYPBTShEK2_88tA6_ExOoa2uE/s1600/DSC_0170.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690562413920209698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCUFrNkfoeNex7y48T1rgrgQIfhFX9wWj5EeagicwWD7wVsg2Ah_jtADeXxO9aOCn_TQcgyqI_qPHtU4DZnbNdoP3TTcCQZtahdy8K7BUuk9Su9OQmJfKYPBTShEK2_88tA6_ExOoa2uE/s400/DSC_0170.JPG" /></a> As the <a href="http://youtu.be/LDPwNPAV6tA">carol</a> says <em>"...Born that men no more may die. Born to raise the sons of Earth, Born to give them second birth."</em> Indeed.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-91829276430849178432011-12-26T15:14:00.012-06:002012-01-09T22:45:30.330-06:00Notes on ChristmasThe Grass Widow household had a perfect Christmas. The past two+ days have been filled with sleep, presents, food and peace. Here are some vignettes:<br /><br />Santa is going to get an angry letter from me, because this was one of Two's presents. Yes, it's <strong><u>sharp and dangerous</u></strong>. He has reassured us at least 30 times, <em>"don't worry."</em> Thanks, sweetie; just what we all need to hear.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuobmpDMZbzeVe3fWQuxKGxC4yhhkdVtE1r4_mBrZMXou6MxQR2DZHJksb61R-kuABE1eWsq1e31tOnqNAAM2HQoeT3f65gqoN3vgyq8msxfCxUdmKdaa7UhY7_xLwg5qvHyOttoCuJvBH/s1600/DSC_0158.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690554974774494178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuobmpDMZbzeVe3fWQuxKGxC4yhhkdVtE1r4_mBrZMXou6MxQR2DZHJksb61R-kuABE1eWsq1e31tOnqNAAM2HQoeT3f65gqoN3vgyq8msxfCxUdmKdaa7UhY7_xLwg5qvHyOttoCuJvBH/s400/DSC_0158.JPG" /></a> One received many, many books, this being the worst (and, of course, one of the favorites - <em>thank you</em>, Husband). He didn't feel very well yesterday, so he curled up and read four books in his beloved new chair. Yes. Four. And I carried that enormous chair upstairs by myself last night - no mean feat, if I do say so myself.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_1we8Qvg6izwwG2uCR__v477QxR8HaskBQcUsP3DqOPiZ-_iMjIzEo-e0EYdUkR81svEW3irx_3KPSIA-w2S4MJImL4w7chA9q1-MR5pYa2oPAXZlCCQ0clOeXLFN10g2fDfitOXml0t/s1600/DSC_0157.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690556508076392850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ_1we8Qvg6izwwG2uCR__v477QxR8HaskBQcUsP3DqOPiZ-_iMjIzEo-e0EYdUkR81svEW3irx_3KPSIA-w2S4MJImL4w7chA9q1-MR5pYa2oPAXZlCCQ0clOeXLFN10g2fDfitOXml0t/s400/DSC_0157.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWI3bIiJwh0LQVTZrzRKDPJaty4QDpv9aOPnxaODPqM6TBKZKuBNV0ygh4y50vuY_g6c3y3az48DEmnHYKzJXspkZnsMuiw38F4Q3HlIifEmC3x1o755QOr-SDpx8KxZtvuG2Lf3PV72z/s1600/DSC_0189.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690554958475282546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcWI3bIiJwh0LQVTZrzRKDPJaty4QDpv9aOPnxaODPqM6TBKZKuBNV0ygh4y50vuY_g6c3y3az48DEmnHYKzJXspkZnsMuiw38F4Q3HlIifEmC3x1o755QOr-SDpx8KxZtvuG2Lf3PV72z/s400/DSC_0189.JPG" /></a> I didn't take many food pictures, although we ate like royalty, feasting on prime rib, au gratin potatoes, braised red cabbage, roasted brussel sprouts, carrots sauteéd with orange peel and thyme, and chocolate mousse for dessert. Here is part of our mid-day snack, minus the paté and baguette.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_QuK4YRcu1p-K4Bo2XmNphk3iefvTWRZsVNNHT43RqQaHqCcS-4CDnicnZdPB-BhOcuaD6grthLF0KXFLre7rpbWfY1iEaV5FZ7PhFqg1r4UXo_JblfCDOoNm9Jy7G_UYhDmDmBzxpkg/s1600/DSC_0163.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690556513625271266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_QuK4YRcu1p-K4Bo2XmNphk3iefvTWRZsVNNHT43RqQaHqCcS-4CDnicnZdPB-BhOcuaD6grthLF0KXFLre7rpbWfY1iEaV5FZ7PhFqg1r4UXo_JblfCDOoNm9Jy7G_UYhDmDmBzxpkg/s400/DSC_0163.JPG" /></a> Two received a Lego project much larger than his head, and is still working on it. He's also created a number of new and interesting creatures, including the house-sized Mangmar fish, which is the sworn enemy of the Quacktable squid (yet to be made).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfKzfBbISV6mfRZgwCLyS7_CTpy_KjT7-MUNmUPj6kNuKVQhKJsEftWUsjR1sDmy_FSPMy2wdxdW3TLk38J9Ezxrzl3JwIrBwEzPER6SpBfD33NtUVg2db8VRTE8XKo50-IUksopgdIJd/s1600/DSC_0115_edited-1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690554951732859346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEfKzfBbISV6mfRZgwCLyS7_CTpy_KjT7-MUNmUPj6kNuKVQhKJsEftWUsjR1sDmy_FSPMy2wdxdW3TLk38J9Ezxrzl3JwIrBwEzPER6SpBfD33NtUVg2db8VRTE8XKo50-IUksopgdIJd/s400/DSC_0115_edited-1.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-KAzW8THcQ8g5-mL6CZuU4XresTZZ2sFNkbsrAZvOgdIAnoChwC_RfP2mfeaKqVeZRkjn5ZhcGCUdO3e4kxl_L_j2pj8NzQFhygyr8q1_1U8IYSxU8_3NNcyzfkieM3n6a2rzhNk_C8A/s1600/DSC_0149.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690554970988492050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-KAzW8THcQ8g5-mL6CZuU4XresTZZ2sFNkbsrAZvOgdIAnoChwC_RfP2mfeaKqVeZRkjn5ZhcGCUdO3e4kxl_L_j2pj8NzQFhygyr8q1_1U8IYSxU8_3NNcyzfkieM3n6a2rzhNk_C8A/s400/DSC_0149.JPG" /></a> The family member who enjoyed Christmas the most: Knight. He thought the novelty of spending an evening at Gaga's was delightful, surpassed only by Christmas day at home. He hasn't been this happy since Lambie left us.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOHqC6LZF_lD7ZWCOZtSHjCe4oMm2IAMxuGJ4A-t-GRF3Z2y28d5aqSM0yGgEymR-NiciNhnKx-7gHRU8R761ZqhKysjGD2vFgDLe_vDSHMH25Bz3brKnZqh8iCTimT02uXaA0rMJQ50t/s1600/DSC_0175.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690554959670082482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOHqC6LZF_lD7ZWCOZtSHjCe4oMm2IAMxuGJ4A-t-GRF3Z2y28d5aqSM0yGgEymR-NiciNhnKx-7gHRU8R761ZqhKysjGD2vFgDLe_vDSHMH25Bz3brKnZqh8iCTimT02uXaA0rMJQ50t/s400/DSC_0175.JPG" /></a> Just in case you think Husband and I didn't enjoy ourselves as well, I have evidence to the contrary. Here he is, laughing so hard he's crying (I'll take credit for that) and I'm looking cute in my favorite new pair of red shoes. Our 15th Christmas as Mr. and Mrs. Happiness: pure bliss.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDeUIoeqm2kw3VhMgAanLyGn2aoKnI7xBMEGX9IXQfEqQ8uAw7nu9Wci0TeXSkKF_EAZPgpjfldoJs9Kh_LNLpgM43GYdwJRMOLqr1OjnOR6-FzGbfwVerScOvKjiMZFyjec3JODaiYbO/s1600/DSC_0127.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690556498616044210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFDeUIoeqm2kw3VhMgAanLyGn2aoKnI7xBMEGX9IXQfEqQ8uAw7nu9Wci0TeXSkKF_EAZPgpjfldoJs9Kh_LNLpgM43GYdwJRMOLqr1OjnOR6-FzGbfwVerScOvKjiMZFyjec3JODaiYbO/s400/DSC_0127.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKolSJurK3mBDx-ib-wFILyRV_CL750Kihm-mP_PcC6JyPOdMITcL2uluVjqyQ1gGNLhgf3uds0fmnyU59pMFdPSA_eALNFHkRW4mwPJmNQi4WXoy0ZdRjn8au2V_Zp8FLQ1cL4aV22zb2/s1600/DSC_0051.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 265px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690556495873686146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKolSJurK3mBDx-ib-wFILyRV_CL750Kihm-mP_PcC6JyPOdMITcL2uluVjqyQ1gGNLhgf3uds0fmnyU59pMFdPSA_eALNFHkRW4mwPJmNQi4WXoy0ZdRjn8au2V_Zp8FLQ1cL4aV22zb2/s400/DSC_0051.JPG" /></a> I hope y'all's Christmas was as warm, relaxing and wonderful as ours.<br /><br />Merry Christmas, everyone!Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-70925560139937630012011-12-21T00:30:00.001-06:002011-12-21T00:31:08.285-06:00Two's DebutHe talked me into posting his Harry Potter Lego video. Help me.<br /><br /><iframe height="233" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/m18UrmewDhw?rel=0" frameborder="0" width="400"></iframe>Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-28373818818519420042011-12-17T21:55:00.007-06:002011-12-17T22:14:52.560-06:00Things That Make Me HappyDo you remember this guy? His name is <a href="http://narvaezjorge.tumblr.com/">Jorge Narvaez</a> and he and his precious daughter Alexa made this video 11 months ago. He's putting himself through college and raising Alexa and her sister at the same time. The video had close to 17 million hits on You Tube - given that it's arguably better than the original version, that's not too surprising.<br /><br /><iframe height="233" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/L64c5vT3NBw" frameborder="0" width="400"></iframe><br /><br />So tonight Husband is channel surfing and look what we found:<br /><br /><iframe height="233" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/qAe2xaOUuSU" frameborder="0" width="400"></iframe><br /><br />Merry Christmas, Jorge and Alexa!Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-80167923758100264202011-12-16T10:37:00.005-06:002011-12-16T10:48:06.393-06:00Unrelated Thoughts1. Why does my middle schooler have to go without water all day (unless he braves the grotty drinking fountains)? He can't bring a drink from home and have it in the halls or in class - not even in morning homeroom, which is where the school breakfast is provided. One child out of a thousand would bring alcohol, so rather than deal with 1 drunk student, 999 are left to get dehydrated every day. Well, whatever makes your job easier, Mr. and Ms. Administrator. Be my guest.<br /><br />2. Today was a free dress day at middle school (or apparently so - not that One knew about it) and as I drove away from dropping him off I saw two 7th or 8th grade boys <span style="font-style:italic;">all decked out</span>. They had skinny jeans, Tejano-star style shirts, and their hair was all spiky and slick. <span style="font-style: italic;">And</span> they each carried (a) a bag of food for their homeroom Christmas party and (b) a dozen roses for their homeroom teacher. So. Dang. Cute.<br /><br />3. Two has taken to filming himself making new Lego creations, and he is demanding I post said videos on YouTube so he can share his knowledge with the world. Is this my fault? Might be.<br /><br />Whew. Finally, that horribly ugly dog is off the top of the blog. Now I'm happy.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-63110119590492937662011-12-12T08:42:00.002-06:002011-12-12T11:01:57.964-06:00How I Almost Became FamousYesterday I went to <a href="http://naturalpawz.com/">Natural Pawz</a> to buy the spoiled Knight a treat for his Christmas stocking and they were having Pug Rescue Day. I'm agnostic on pugs, so whatever. However, as I was leaving I happened upon this dog:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmSZHX9PcvCVkxA0yklVfE2zMRghyvyRcvUR-_KvZ1hnMZwIaKQ-EMhecgvhDy4Q1mx1p_X0rbneeKRFrvAGe3Z5wuBbirQuR48PO639y61ZqGvelurVQ0icuv1Ka4_87y7EigeBSIYf1/s1600/Elmo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 270px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685051655827405746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmSZHX9PcvCVkxA0yklVfE2zMRghyvyRcvUR-_KvZ1hnMZwIaKQ-EMhecgvhDy4Q1mx1p_X0rbneeKRFrvAGe3Z5wuBbirQuR48PO639y61ZqGvelurVQ0icuv1Ka4_87y7EigeBSIYf1/s400/Elmo.jpg" /></a> His name is Elmo, otherwise known as Sampson, and he's half boxer and half pug.<br /><br /><strong><u>He is the ugliest dog I have ever seen in my entire life</u></strong>.<br /><br />And I wanted to adopt him so badly, because I was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to be famous, and with a dog like Elmo, <u>I would be so famous</u>. Just. Like. That. He is so ugly everyone would want to know about him. I could have entered him in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World%27s_Ugliest_Dog_Contest">World's Ugliest Dog Contest</a> and won; in fact, all the others contestants would have gone home crying as soon as they saw Elmo, because they would know: <em>there is no beating this dog.</em><br /><br />I could tell right away: he would be so famous he would put <a href="http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/">Jenny Lawson's giant rooster, Beyonce</a>, in the shade. I'm telling you, this dog was my ticket to the fame I have never even craved. I would be on TV in five minutes' time if I owned this dog. Suddenly, when I saw him I <em>wanted</em> to be on TV. That's never happened before - clearly Elmo exudes some seriously influential vibes, because not only did I want to adopt him, I wanted to be seen on TV with him.<br /><br />If only Husband would say yes and let me adopt Elmo, oh how my life would change. Seriously, <em>he said no</em>: no to the ugliest dog in the world. I'm thinking, though, that's just because he didn't get to see Elmo in person. If he sees Elmo in person, like if I send Husband on an errand next week and it just happens to be to the place where <a href="http://www.pughearts.com/ph_ourdogs.aspx">Pug Hearts Rescue</a> is having an adoption day, maybe I still have a chance. Fingers crossed.<br /><br />If that doesn't work one of y'all will just have to adopt him. Then I can be slightly famous, because it will have been all my idea. If I can't have Elmo myself, I'd like to think I'm still connected to him in some way. Go on, <a href="http://pughearts.com/">go get him</a>. You know you want to be on TV.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2528964420180861331.post-87394782826859577202011-12-11T17:49:00.006-06:002011-12-11T18:05:24.984-06:00Why I'm Not WorriedTwo is my media consumer. He would watch movies, play video games and surf the Internet all day if I'd let him. He's never met a screen he didn't like. We've have to step in and make a host of rules about the time he spends with his two best friends, the TV and the computer (we've banned gaming systems altogether out of an abundance of caution), but strangely enough he doesn't object. I think he knows his habits are a little excessive and he welcomes the chance to take a break and try something different. To be honest, as much as I've griped about his media addiction over the years, I have to say it doesn't have me that worried. Because what he uses all that screen time for is insipration more than anything else.<br /><br />These are two creations that he invented today:<br /><br /><u>Harry Potter's Potions Cabinet</u>: Harry has no hair and an angry face because the potion he concocted made him bald.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaE9uSncq-E86obJWO5mvyL6e06cncOMEVf58eqZdiHqSMQ9p38v4h66K92cQ6ignXh6iIoD9XA3DgSeewpcYeUDfikkv5gyygc0KrxgcH-0f-dRSETrb5xfEuFXaGTgF0byBL6q16Nlc/s1600/DSC_0005_edited-1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685024787862913154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfaE9uSncq-E86obJWO5mvyL6e06cncOMEVf58eqZdiHqSMQ9p38v4h66K92cQ6ignXh6iIoD9XA3DgSeewpcYeUDfikkv5gyygc0KrxgcH-0f-dRSETrb5xfEuFXaGTgF0byBL6q16Nlc/s400/DSC_0005_edited-1.JPG" /></a> <u>Some Kind of Spaceship</u>: Cobbled together from four or five <em>Star Wars</em> kits. The propeller at the back makes me think it floats, too. This might have been inspired in part by <em>The Incredibles</em>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy06PBGhFNgPFZddB4gujjFTUPK500bkQ3AH9dnM3kZuVQ8ByFWbQpZqkHnjSDC5U8AYuDWgGbWOaMQdTafDEoOd9I2ZB6HHy8tRFe6I3OyDcj6FK1-C92Rnsfe6kT4vmnerQZ4PefoT8c/s1600/DSC_0010_edited-1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685024781994255778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy06PBGhFNgPFZddB4gujjFTUPK500bkQ3AH9dnM3kZuVQ8ByFWbQpZqkHnjSDC5U8AYuDWgGbWOaMQdTafDEoOd9I2ZB6HHy8tRFe6I3OyDcj6FK1-C92Rnsfe6kT4vmnerQZ4PefoT8c/s400/DSC_0010_edited-1.JPG" /></a> If this is why he loves movies so much, then I love them, too.Tarihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06472104751888958606noreply@blogger.com0