... is not this one. With great sadness I report, I am no longer a vegetable blogger, after this post.
Let me state up front, the vegetables we received were absolutely superb. The sweet potatoes were sweet as was the corn, the carrots had that fresh taste and my tomatoes were so very yummy.
I'm trying to figure out where it all went off the rails, how it could be, but it boiled down to two things: too many vegetables and they have a poor software system. Their accounting of who has paid vs who has not, is not good, and their internet system is cumbersome to use. Until they get that squared away, I can't be bothered.
I work on some seriously difficult to understand systems at work, put together by people who absolutely wanted it to be a torturous experience to use their systems; not an intuitive thing about it, and their software rivaled it.
Besides, seriously, I can only have only so much more round organic matter in this house. I have ANOTHER bag of apples, TWO bags of onions, and another bag of potatoes. I can't keep up...
Today I gave away Kale. We just don't like it.
So as I said to my husband, "I'm going to make an effort once a week to go to the organic store to buy our vegies and fruit for the week" to which he replied, "And then you can get what you KNOW we will like..."
We tried some great stuff. I do love pomegranates. My husband said I did a great job on the artichokes, although the kids have begged off from having them again. I'll make them again... too bad, so sad, I'm the cook.
I'm going to buy more of that big brownish squash that looks like it needs a face and to star in Vegie Tales. Y'all had so many great suggestions for what to do with it, I'm going to try them, other than making bread. Winter is upon us... I think I can see some squash soup coming our way.
So for the last hurrah, and since I had leftover turkey from Thanksgiving, I made my homemade Chicken Pot Pie, and I used all fresh vegetables. I cut the corn off the cob, uncooked, chopped up my large organic sweet carrots, threw in some fresh green beans, and although I didn't have any (I'm on a special diet right now, so all of it was out for me), I could tell that it was the best Chicken Pot Pie known to man. And I think I may very well always make it that way now.
My kids loved it.
I did notice that when I threw the fresh corn in, it changed the color of the chicken stock, hence the roux. The kids said it was a 'sweeter' pie.
I know, some of you may be wondering what is up with this organic stuff. Am I becoming a hippy? Will I start wearing long dresses and quit shaving and using deoderant?
I like those long dresses, but I also like shaving and deoderant, so even though I have the name to go with the hippy lifestyle (for those not in the know, I have a very real 60s name), I'm not going that way.
I'm going organic because... I'm very concerned about what we're feeding our livestock and putting on our crops and it bugs me that my children's bodies are trying to metabolize this crap.
I really believe that the mass production of food is just as bad as big government. I think going organic... almost makes me more Republican. Heh.
So we'll see. I'm pretty committed as there is a difference in how the food tastes, folks. There is. Support your local farmers and markets.
I'm not taking in anything really other than chicken and fish, mostly fish, and although I cannot pull my carnivore family away from beef, I'm trying to direct it in a way that it is not a staple. I'm trying to make us more healthy...
I am 5'2". I know I'm not a big person, but quite frankly, I never think of myself as not big.
As a matter of fact, in my head, I'm as big as everyone else. I actually NEVER notice that I'm not that big, unless I'm with some seriously tall people, otherwise... nada.
I think its because I know I can handle myself in just about any situation. Some regard me as.. a force to contend with. I rarely back down, which can be problematic, but with age, you come to realize that sometimes backing away is a good thing. I'm officially at that age. In my 20s... I NEVER backed down.
So given I know my history, one I continue to build upon (I have quite a "don't f*** with her" reputation at work, that some of the guys at work enjoy teasing me about at inopportune times), I just... think of myself as big as everyone else.
Until I do something like go... Christmas shopping.
Christmas shopping brings out men. And perhaps this is a delineation as well.
This is going to sound really really sexist, as in a put down to women, but I've never held myself to the standards of women, but to men. And perhaps that's because I have worked with men my entire adult life. I had to be better than them, smarter, work faster, sharper, to get noticed and to keep my spot on the team. (I was not always successful...) So when it comes to women, tall or short, I absolutely take no notice.
But... men? As I said, Christmas shopping brings out men.
So when I've been hitting the mall or various shops, going through my burn down list, I've been around more men than normal, and some of these men are HUGE.
I think one store must've been having some special sale only for male shoppers over 6 feet tall. I swear to you, I felt like a dang Hobbit. I felt like a child.
Christmas shopping makes me feel short. All those words to say, "Christmas shopping makes me realize I'm small."
I pick up my last share from Comrad Marie on Tuesday. I can't keep up with all the dang vegetables, so I put a suspension on my account.
Although I got the apples under control, I am being overrun by onions. I saw the new list... I'm getting MORE onions.
But a different kind.
I think I'm giving it to the Greek at work. His wife is a great cook and he's so enamored with anything that is her (can you imagine?) that he'll eat anything she cooks.
I think she'll be cooking Kale.
Work is... going well, but not as well. I'm thinking of putting up a big political post. Thinking about it.
I make it a habit of not blogging my job for myriad reasons.
This one... well, I just wonder if people would like to know the ins and outs of decisions made much higher up the food chain than we, the ramifications.
And for my buddy, Denny, who LOVES to chide me when I see him, "So, Bou, how is that six week temporary job going?" (it was supposed to end in June) I will say... it looks like its permanent. Whodathunkit?! *grin*
I think most of you know I've been reading Band of Brothers. I can't sit down and watch a movie. I spend too much time thinking of all the things I need to do, so if I'm not in a theatre, I have to be reading to enjoy something.
Sad, but true. I have a tough time shutting down my brain.
I was over at Lex's and he said that Dick Winters is dying. He's dying of Parkinson's. We can't even go into how that little tidbit of information destroys me, in itself.
There is a campaign to put a statue of Dick Winters on Omaha Beach. There is a fundraising effort... where the little rubber wrist bands in olive green are being sold, with Hang Tough pressed into it.
Read Lex's post to get a better understanding. He always does it best. But... go HERE, if you just want to contribute or buy a band.
Note to my Dad: Don't buy one. I bought one for you when I bought mine.
On lighter notes...
My two younger boys and I went to see Tangled this evening and we had a GREAT time! What a wonderfully fun movie! I laughed. I cried. It was great.
The boys love it and thought it hysterical.
Yeah, yeah, go figure that one out. On one side I read Band of Brothers, on the other, I go to the theatre to see Tangled about some chick with long hair. If you figure it out, feel free to pass it on.
I don't have myself figured out yet...
I was waiting for my son at Bass lessons the other day. (He can play the electric bass, but his double bass days may be permanently over. The damage to his right wrist was severe enough that there is now the thought of rebreaking and surgery... and possible permanent damage.)
Anyway... so I was sitting in the lobby, my book finished, and I picked up a Time magazine and read the article they had on Alzheimers. It was sad and fascinating.
In it was a story of a woman who now has it and in the article, it said her husband knew something was seriously wrong when his wife said something like, 'I had the most wonderful time in California. I wish you could have joined me...' and... he had been there with her that entire time. He had been on vacation IN California WITH her.
I was aghast of course, aghast and laughing at the absolute horror show.
I think Alzheimer's in one of my biggest fears and concerns.
Anyway, I was telling that story to my parents, and so now when we relate a story to one another, one where one's memory has completely failed us and we've found ourselves in a bizarre situation, I reply by saying, "Took a trip to California. Wish you could have joined me!"
We all get the meaning.
My Mom and I went out shopping ALL DAY for Black Friday. We had an absolute BLAST.
I'm halfway through my shopping. I intend to be finished this week... mostly...
Thank God Florida football is over. Holy cats.
And lastly, I have the ONLY Florida boy who is an avid Minnesota Vikings fan.
What is that about?
I'll tell you. My son has gotten into pro football by following his college football heros, so Tim Tebow may have left the Gators, but that only means that now Mr. T follows the Broncos.
And Percy Harvin, the all time Mr. T, fave? You guessed it. He plays for the Vikings.
Which is fine.
Except... on my son's Christmas list is "Percy Harvin Jersey". Right. Try and buy that in a store in FLORIDA. Ain't happenin'...
Looks like I'm ordering that gem online. Good Grief.
A little background and reminder about my second son. He's a funny guy. And he's my kid, that when he finally learned about the birds and the bees, for some reason, everything around him suddenly seemed to be mating. He'd switch to the nature channel... mating... look outside... two cats getting it on... and so it went.
He was kind of horrified. I remember taking him into work once and someone had put a poster up in a cube of three meerkats, labeling each one as a coworker, and T leaned into me and said, "I saw Meerkats mate on the Discovery Channel..."
Once when I went to over night Boy Scout camp as a night chaperone, a hell hole of all Boy Scout hell holes, I caught him in a big depression. We walked the campsite at night where we were going through what was bugging him.
We rounded the corner and lo and behold, two tortoises were mating, the male mounted on top of the female. (Yes, they do this...even if they're egg laying types.) In a fit of despair he wailed at me, 'And see?! I can't get away from it! EVERYTHING is always mating! No matter where I go!"
And it may not seem funny, reading it here, but to this day, its one of my funniest memories of him... the sound of despair and frustration in his voice that... essentially sex was all around him.
Cracked me up.
Flash forward to this week... this happened at our dinner table.
Me: What... what is on your elbows?
T: That one has a star. That one has a smiley face...
Me: Did Janny James put those on your elbows?!
Me: I knew it. You've been sweet on her since Kindergarten...
Husband to my folks: Janny James is one of the CUTE girls. She's cute AND nice. I told him that's what you have to look for...
Me: And smart. They need to be smart.
TGOO: Well, really, cute and nice are great, but what you really need to know is about fecundity.
Mom: HE does NOT need to know that as a trait!
T: What is fecundity.
TGOO: Ahh, well, you'll just have to go look it up after dinner...
Mom (my Mom): I can't believe you're having him look that up.
T, leaving the table: How do you spell that?
Me: Sound it out... FE-CUND-
A few minutes pass, we're clearing the table, T reappears:
T: It has something to do with eggs?
TGOO: The ability for a female to get pregnant...
Me: Fertility. It's also the ability for a man to get a woman pregnant.
T, grinning and pink, quietly laughing: Yeah, I'm not looking into that one.
TGOO: I think you should ask your language arts teacher if that can be the word of the day.
Much laughter ensued as T replied: yeah, I don't think I'll do that. *as he walked away shaking his head*
We were all laughing about it after dinner. Its kind of been the family joke... fecundity.
Now flash forward to Thanksgiving.
We sat down for dinner. We had the prayer, and TGOO made a toast, "To George Soule!"
We all toasted (after TGOO explained to my in laws who George Soule was).
I said, "Without George Soule, we'd not be here..." referring to me and my kids, and my Mom.
TGOO: Thankfully he was prolific.
We all continued to clink glasses.
TGOO: And to his fecundity...
And at that point, the in laws had a blank stare, I started to laugh, and I swear to God, Mr. T nearly spit his water across the table and started to choke.
One of the funniest things I'd ever seen.
This was the first Thanksgiving without Pop. I felt myself panic last month at the thought of Thanksgiving feeling so... small. One less person, yet I felt there would be this huge void.
In a panic, I tried to think of other people we could have over. Invite more people, perhaps I wouldn't feel his absence so much. He... his personality so big, it felt like it would take 10 to replace.
I kept asking my husband, 'Is there someone from work you need to ask? Do you have some that do business with you that need a place for the holiday? Do we have any friends who will be alone?"
I had my sister in law invite her friend from work, a friend that joins us for all the holidays. My sister in law's mother was in town from Kuwait. It felt better.
Then my folks called a couple weeks ago and asked if we could use a couple more, and with GREAT relief, I said, or maybe yelled, "YES!" and suddenly it felt... right.
It felt odd without him... hurtful, perhaps. But I was not lonely. I had been afraid of the loneliness. As difficult as he was... he was still ours.
So dinner was to be here as my sister in law has one of those jobs where she has to be at work at 3AM Friday morning. Ghastly, absolutely ghastly. I've had dinner here before, but it has been 4 years since we've been in town for Thanksgiving, the past four being in Pensacola with mine, or NJ with in laws.
Big dinners in general don't stress me out anymore. I told my Mom, my sister in law and I have been doing big dinners every other Sunday for the last 10 years. On any given Sunday, I would have anywhere between 10 and 15 people at my table.
Turkey is not my forte, however. My MOM, can cook a mean turkey.
So this is a snippet of some very funny conversation that happened this morning as I was on Turkey duty and she was letting me do my thing:
Mom: Did you truss it?
Mom: Did you TRUSS it?
Me: I'm supposed to truss it?
Me: Mom. I can't truss it. There's too much sh** coming out of it.
Mom looked at it and said, "Well, you're right... "
I put the turkey in the oven and she said, "Did you tent it?"
Mom: Is... the foil touching the turkey?
Mom: The skin will stick to it if you don't tent it right...
And so she showed me the art of tenting a turkey.
Overall, it was good. The turkey was a bit dry and I don't know if its the fact I didn't truss it or the bird itself. As I said to everyone at the table, "Gravy is your friend" and the gravy was very very good. I'd stuffed the turkey with fresh parsley, thyme, apples, celery, salt, pepper, lots of garlic, and onion. All of it dripped into the gravy, so there was good flavor.
We are a thankful crew. We take very little for granted, as adults. Children are children and although they are appreciative, they don't always see the big picture.
But... we are thankful. This Thanksgiving, I am Thankful for Family... and for no suffering.
And as TGOO toasted, "To George Soule!" My ancestor, through my Mom, who helped to make this all possible. From his first Thanksgiving in 1621, to this one... nearly 400 years later... still being celebrated... by his descendents. And I thank George for his prolificness, for without it, I would not be here!
SIDENOTE: My Dad's recipe for cranberry fudge pie came from the King Arthur site. It has a VERY robust flavor. It's an adult pie, yummy, but you must like cranberries. Go HERE for the recipe.
Oh and spiced apples make an EXCELLENT side for Thanksgiving... in particular when you want to get rid of apples!
I'm living large. My folks are in town, so blogging is taking a hit. I'm living life... not writing about it.
Tomorrow is the big day. Everyone is coming here. It'll be the first Thanksgiving without Pop... and it's weird.
I have a 15.2 lb turkey sitting in my fridge waiting for me to figure out how to cook it. I'm playing like I know what to do, but essentially, my view is its just a really big chicken.
I bought this dude from the same organic place I buy my vegies. Comrad Belinda helped me out this time, as I picked up both organic bird and accompaniments.
I figured... why not? Let's see if it tastes different.
Meanwhile, I still haven't finished all the dang vegetables from the last share so now I'm overrun with apples and potatoes and onions. Guess what the turkey is being stuffed with? Apples and onions with a good sprinkling of spices.
I gotta get rid of these dang apples. I feel like frickin' Johnny Appleseed's wife.
My Mom helped me set my table; we pulled out my formal china. At the last minute we realized I'd committed the ultimate travesty and forgotten the cranberry sauce... something I would have heard about from my boys for years to come, I assure you.
TGOO made a cranberry fudge pie and it sits in the fridge as I type this. There is not room for one more thing in that big cold box. Turkey, vegies, pies, cheesecakes, cranberries... our cup overfloweth...
So we'll see how this turns out. It's not the first turkey I've cooked, but the last one I spent a lot of time looking up recipes. Life is too stressful for that this year. There is too much stress in my life.
I'm winging it. Heh. Get it? Winging it? Turkey? Bird?
From my middle son, who is 13 and in the midst of watching lots of girl drama at school. He has decided that half his class girls is now comprised of mean girls and he's just staying far far away...
"Mom, I'm so glad I'm a boy. What's with all the drama? They'll ruin a whole month of their lives and be a mess with drama. Boys? We just punch each other in the face and the next day we're best friends. Sheesh."
Sounds like he just unlocked a major secret...
I met a guy a couple weeks ago named Noelle. Put one of those French double dotty things over the e. He doesn't pronounce it Nole, but No-Elle.
Said I, "What a great name? Is it a family name or were you born in December?"
Replied he, "Actually, neither. I was named after the the writer Noelle xxxx. My Mother was a big fan."
Leave it to me to forget the writer's name. But it was cool, either way. I love to here from where people get their names.
Today I was at Bones' school helping sort items from a huge fundraiser we just had, preparing for delivery. Bones' class was able to help unload the truck. Bones ran through the cafeteria with his buddy, going to their end to help stack, when I heard Bones shout, "Come on, Coltrane! Let's start over here!"
My first thought was, "Were his folks huge Dukes of Hazard fans?" Hearing the hick back woods voice saying, "My name is Roscoe P. Coltrane..." echoed in my brain.
I thought that truly the most ridiculous thought and then remembered, there was a GREAT musician named Coltrane.
Back at my car, I called TGOO and said, "Hey, isn't there some famous musician named Coltrane?" to which he replied, "Yup. He was a great Jazz musician. Saxophonist."
We had great discussion as to where this kid's name came from. I've settled on a theory.
I think his folks were playing John Coltrane when she conceived and TGOO tends to agree with me. Mo thinks it's a family name, although she does think my theory is more fun.
So I'm going to try to meet these parents one day and I'm going to say, "I love your son's name. Is it a family name?"
And if they say "No" then I know he got his name from a couple too many glasses of wine with John Coltrane playing in the background.
Then again, his parents could be complete freaky fans of Dukes of Hazard. Wow, what a disappointment THAT would be... Sheesh.
I guess after the blowing the nose in the socks story, I should give an update on Bones and his new school.
We're in the 2nd nine weeks and... he's a full on A/B student with the potential to become a straight A student.
Boggling. Absolutely Mind Boggling. He nearly failed out of school last year.
I spoke to the Specials teacher that used to assist him in math last year, the year he made an F one quarter and a D the next. (She was only allowed to help him once a week.) Her kids go to the school Bones currently attends and SHE is one of the many wonderful teachers at the old school who kept saying, "Get him into this other school..." She and I had a large discussion about what went wrong with Bones.
And it boils down to a few bad teachers and a really bad fit. (MY assessment, not hers.)
That, of course, has led me to reassess what we did and what I would have done differently as if that helps.
And the answer is... nope. I would have done everything we did, as painful and awful as it was for two reasons:
1) We would not be where we are now without the path we took. We'd not fully understand his strengths and weaknesses. The two years of hell had us all do an awful lot of soul searching and research. We spent an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what HE needed as opposed to what other people needed.
I cannot nor will I turn him into a complacent student who wants to sit there and color and draw, with perfect penmanship and a smile.. That's not him, but that's what everyone wanted, or at least the poorer teachers. He's all color... for him to become someone else would have turned him into shades of gray.
2) The education through fifth grade, as difficult as it was, was a tremendous foundation for him. He reads marvelously well, he is well spoken, can write in cursive, knows how to punctuate, spell, and capitalize, and fully comprehends English Grammar.
I know, you are thinking, "He's in 6th grade, of course he can..." but the answer is... our educational system is broken, even in elementary school and by keeping him in parochial school, my star shaped peg that could not conform, he learned what he needed to learn to excel in later years. He needed a strong foundation and he got it.
Our FL public school elementary schools are divided into Special Ed, which in the State of Florida is profound learning disabilities, regular and gifted. So if you're a 'regular' kid, you're in a classroom with a very large spectrum of kids... from those with significant learning disabilities, but that did not qualify for ESE, to on the cusp of really smart.
Bones middle school has an additional level... Honors... shoved in between regular and gifted.
I came into the new school thinking Bones might be ESE. The admin wouldn't even listen to me (thankfully). I had been convinced at the old school that something was really wrong with him, when in reality, it was a failure to thrive in that environment.
So we put him in all average classes waiting to see where it would shake out, if he needed ESE.
What we have found is in some classes he needs to be in Honors, in particular Language Arts, where he has a great inclination. Math, he is grasping on levels that scare me. It leaves me doing a big WTF, as I see him doing things with ease that he absolutely did NOT comprehend last year. (I attribute it to the June birthday.) Whereas he came into the new school saying he was 'dumb in math' and whereas I would be supportive, but agreeing with him inside, I'm realizing he's got pretty good math aptitude.
He made a 90 on his math test Monday. He may even make an A this quarter.
What has left me speechless is his assessment to the students in his class. In Language Arts, he says there is a large group of kids who can't read, they can't write a complete sentence, use proper punctuation, capitalization, or sentence structure, and they can't spell. He's appalled.
And I feel certain, that all these kids have some sort of LD like he does and I feel certain that if he hadn't been in the curriculum he was in, he'd not be at the top of his class. He'd be one of the ones floundering.
So I know we made the right choices.
He's doing well. We have to watch him like a hawk. If we let up, he'll fall back into not turning things in, not studying, not doing what he needs to succeed, but we aren't doing anything we didn't do the last two years.
Except now... he's where he needs to be... and he's flourishing. I even received an email from his science teacher the other day telling me what a joy he is to have in class.
I never saw that one coming...
Today is my 19th wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe that it will be the big 2-0 next year. I remember when we were dating and he took me on a surprise trip to the FL Keys for my birthday. We were on a little plane that flew a group of us down and the people next to us were celebrating their 20th. I remember thinking, 'Wow. I thought they'd look older...'
Now I think, "20 years happens in a blink of an eye". I think I look older than they did.
They took our picture at the restaurant for us and printed it out and handed it to us in a card, which was VERY nice. I grinned and said to my husband, "Bonus of having a round face, you don't wrinkle." Good Grief I have a moon pie face!
At work today, most of us tried to reach our ankles with our noses. The hilarity of Bones blowing his nose in his sock was only compounded by the fact he's so dang bendy and could get his nose to actually touch said foot.
A few of us tried it, laughing, ranging from 4 inches to 12 inches off... as in from ankle to nose. We decided that at a certain age, you can't blow your nose in your sock... you have to blow your nose mid air and hope it hits your sock.
Funnier still, I found out today Bones was wearing an ankle sock. It just gets better and better...
Mr. T and I had some time in the car alone today and we were going over some old Bones' stories, some things he's done lately. He said to me, 'Mom, I wonder what goes through his head sometimes."
I replied, "I don't know, but there are cotton candy clouds."
Of course Mr. T isn't letting the sock blowing go. We were in the car, Bones said, "Mom, I need tissue, could you please pass me one?" and T's voice in the back could be heard, "... or hand him a sock..."
I suspect this will be a permanent family joke, a joke for grandchildren.
For our twenty year.... I told him next year I want to drive up to St. Augustine. No flying. Flying is just too... awful...
There were a few funny things that happened today, but being the end of the day, I only remember laughing, not remembering the why.
I am making Bones take Cotillion as I did his brothers. Tonight was Cotillion night and Bones is at the tail end of a cold. He's a bit sniffly, every now and then, but overall, he's pretty much over it.
Tonight they got paired off with their dance partners. As Bones came out, I asked him how it went... this is the conversation:
Me: So? Dance partner?
Bones: Yeah, well, Beth has her partner already, so I got paired off with this girl named Kathy.
Bones' face got all contorted. He suddenly didn't look good and I didn't know if it was because he was wearing a hand me down jacket in black, a color he doesn't look good in being fair, blue eyed and auburn, or if he was really sick.
Me: Dude. Are you OK?
Me: Are you sure?
Bones: Yeah, Mom. You should see her eyebrows. They're... like... big. They... kind of scare me...
Me: Her eyebrows SCARE you?
Bones: *quiet voice* Yeah... shhhh... I don't want to be mean, but... they're big and black and... weird. I mean, Mom, really weird. I think, Wow... I think I may be damaged by her eyebrows. Her sister, she has them too. But her brother, he has normal eyebrows. Mom... wow.
Heh. So Bones is 'damaged' by his dance partner's eyebrows.
But the kicker was the end of class. I swear, this is the conversation:
Bones: All day, Mom, I never had to blow my nose, I never felt like I had to sniff, I felt good, like I just sounded funny, but no cold, but at the end of class, my nose STARTED to run...
Me: You didn't have tissue?
Bones: No. I never had to blow my nose all day. I thought my cold was completely gone. But then... here I was and my nose started to run, so I thought, 'What am I going to wipe my nose on?' and I remembered, I was wearing socks...
Me: No. Wait. You wiped your nose ON YOUR SOCK? Baby... your sock is on your FOOT. Your nose is on YOUR FACE, the northern most part of your body!
Bones: I know. Really, it was a struggle trying to make sure nobody would notice I was wiping my nose on my sock.
*sidenote... folks, can you imagine? Are you picturing this? I mean, who says, "I need to wipe my nose, I'll just bend way the hell down and wipe it on my sock"? And... in public? Really?*
Me, trying not to laugh, but thinking, "this is blog fodder": Son. Umm. How did you get your nose to your foot...
Bones: Well, luckily I was in the back of the class and I'm small, so I just propped my ankle on my other knee, leaned down, and quickly wiped my nose on my sock when nobody was looking. But... Mom, you have to wash my pants. I think I got snot on the cuff of my pants...
Seriously, you can't make this crap up.
Kind of crazy here tonight, so from my gf, Sissy, who no longer blogs, I give you this funny video that just about every Mom out there will identify with.
I'm slowly moving out of this Mom phase... six years and nine months. I'm cool with it. That means I've accomplished what I set out to do, making them independent contributors to society. I'm already figuring out what I want to do next, and I'm kind of excited at the prospect.
It is funny still watching my kids become more adult like. For instance, we've been cleaning house and getting things caught up most of the day. Bones stayed in his pajama lounge pants for most of the day. I didn't say anything. I have battles to fight, this was not going to be one.
At 4:30, I ran out to the grocery story, and evidently my eldest said to him, "Ok, come with me. It's time for you to get out of those pajamas and get dressed" and he proceeded to scoot Bones into his room and get him dressed.
Not that an 11 year old needs someone to dress him, but my almost 16 year old had decided it was just about inexcusable to be that much of a bum and that his bro was to get dressed. They were laughing about it during dinner.
So... this Mom video. Very funny.
My second son is watching The Gators get their butts kicked. I'm not sure why he does this to himself. I don't need to watch that... I lived it in the 80s. I'll skip the deja vu.
Last night I took the boys to a little seafood restaurant I've been wanting to try. Lola's Seafood... I was concerned it was some fancy place where we needed to dress up, and if that was the case, we were leaving, but I was hoping it was casual.
It was perfect... a tiny hole in the wall type fish and chips place. A place I can go to get my fried oysters should I get the hankering. It happens... I had yet to have a place down here to fulfill those cravings, having to wait to get home to Pensacola.
It's the type of place where you look up at the board, walk up to the cash register and order, and then find some booth to sit in while staff brings you your food.
Bones walked in, saw they had whole Maine lobster, steamed, for $15. I saw it coming like a freight train.
"Fine," I said.
The older boys said loudly, "Jabes, this isn't like you've had it before. When you've ordered it before it was stuffed and cleaned..."
Bones did not care. He wanted lobster and it was affordable. Other meals were between $10-$12, so I figured, what the heck.
We sat and the lobster came and just as his brothers told him, there was this big dead orange lobster, laying in the basket, with the only prep being that someone in the back had cut the back with a knife. It wasn't split... just cut.
Bones looked at us kind of aghast. "Mom! It still has the eyeballs!!!"
Ringo and T laughed and said in unison, "We TRIED to tell you!"
Bones: Am I supposed to eat the eyes?
Me, feeling the bile rise in my throat: NO. Leave the eyeballs alone and if you need help, let me know.
Bones is used to our annual Lobster Fest Boy Scout fundraiser where for $20 you get two tails, a coke, a mess of red potatoes, a piece of corn, steamed clams and dessert. TAlLS. He's used to tails.
The dinner wore on, we all ate and spoke of how lucky were were to find such a great little place. Bones ate the claws and tail and then cracked open the body.
Bones: Look! Someone stuffed it with guacamole!
His Brothers: *blink* Jabes, that isn't guac...
Bones: It is!
Me: Uh no. Look, let me help you...
Now the guts were just a little bit coming out, but I decided to try to find some of the body meat for him. I poked it and I swear, a half a cup of GREEN erupted from inside.
Bones: GAH! They stuffed it with a TON of guacamole!
We finally convinced him it wasn't a cross between seafood and Mexican dinner. Nasty stuff. Today he was still talking about his guacamole stuffed lobster.
If you Google 'Black Toenail', you'll see a set of images. One set of those images are MY feet.
My feet have been immortalized on the internet. Yours haven't.
Just thought I'd rub it in. I'm famous. Sort of. At least my feet are.
I'm posting on the Hysterics at Eric's late Sunday night. I'm still writing. Until then... stories from today.
Ringo informed me this afternoon that he thinks he'd like to learn to speak Russian. Of course that raised my eyebrow as it's the ONE language I have wanted to learn more than any other. My whole life I've wanted to learn to speak it. I even found someone down here who can eventually teach me should I ever have the time.
So I felt some sort of connection to my eldest, until he grinned and said, "I love how it sounds. It just always sounds so... angry!"
Yup. Connection was broken. T and Bones laughed. I rolled my eyes.
There is nothing quiet about Bones. The boy is loud when he walks in socks. I have yet to understand how such a little person can make so much... noise. LOUD.
He is an itty bitty guy, not an ounce of fat on him, big blue eyes, floppy auburn hair... and when he talks, there is no volume. It is off or on. It reminds me of when I used to play the bagpipes. Someone would want to hire one of us from the band for a party and they'd invariably say, "Can you just stand in the corner and play quietly?"
We'd laugh. There is off and there is on. There is no 'volume control' on bagpipes...
... nor is there on Bones. His voice travels and it's just how it is. It's not that he does it on purpose, but for some reason, his voice is naturally loud, which gets him in all sorts of trouble all the time. Bonus for me... I always know where he is.
But beyond his loud traveling voice we have him just being HIM.
He woke up this morning kind of snuffly. Normal kids would take some Dimetap, grab some tissues and quietly sniffle through the day. This is Bones:
*HOOOONK* *cough cough cough* *grabs throat as if he may be dying* *Hoooonk! Hooonk!* *gasp!* *gasp!* *cough cough cough* "Mom, how much snot can possibly come out of your nose?" *cough cough* *Hoooonk!* *scratch scratch scratch for more tissue* *big motion to open it* *HOOOOONK!* *GASP!* *COUGH!*
No joke. I kid you not. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. (My eldest actually said to me tonight, "Mom, I think he may be the most annoying sick person in the ENTIRE world.")
At that point, at the school for drop off, as I'd just heard his coughing sneezing Concerto in my backseat, I swung out of line and said, "I don't care if you want to go, you're not going."
Can you imagine being the teacher? And he had a TEST today! Can you imagine sitting next to him? And trust me, he's NOT that sick... it's just... Bones being Bones.
He is big. In everything but stature. He's Calvin with a cold.
Bones in particular has been rather crabby and ungrateful today. Something didn't go his way and he got rather accusatory which threw me over the edge. I don't put up with ungrateful.
I snapped and explained to him that in 6 years and 9 months, when he no longer lived with me, he could do what he wanted, but until then I wasn't going to put up with whiny, ungrateful cretins. That shut him up and garnered a huge apology.
I took the boys out for a quick bite at a new fish and chips place down the street. (My husband is out of town.) It was excellent. It was at dinner that the following conversation occurred (this ties in all the stories...):
Bones, standing next to the booth as he could sit still no longer: Mom, I read in a store "Be nice to your kids, they'll pick out your nursing home one day" bwhahahahahaha
Me: I know, but it's going to go like this. Ringo is going to move away from home and we'll never hear from him again. Mr. T will move away, but he'll call to check up. You'll stay local with your wife and kids which means it'll be YOU that picks it out.
Ringo: *raised eyebrows over my comment of his never coming home again*
Mr. T: No, no, no, it will go like this. Ringo will move to Russia, where we'll never hear from him again... (Ringo starts to laugh) I'll move far away, but I'll be a very successful business man and I'll visit once a year. Jabes (that's their nickname for Bones) will live with you in your house with his wife and kids...
*laughter from everyone, but me*
*look of absolute horror on my face*
Bones: I'm going to live in Mom and Dad's basement with my wife and kids...
Mr. T: Mom and Dad don't have a basement. This is Florida.
Ringo: That means you'll be living in their HOUSE with your wife and kids...
Bones, hopping around the table, looking like Rumplestilskin: Bwahahahahaa! I'm living at home until I'm FORTY! With my FAMILY!! Whooo hoooo...
Which did solicit a laugh, since just 3 short hours earlier I essentially issued a mandate that he was leaving in 6 years and 9 months. That was not lost on him.
I personally thought the Edible Earth project was a bust, but Bones received 105%, including the extra credit for it being healthy.
Evidently, a lot of kids brought their liquids in a different container and then poured it into the 'Earth' at grading time. Clever. Not something we thought of... since we are too often confined to our box.
Cool wHip is considered a semi-solid, even though we used it as a liquid. A couple points were taken off.
I wrote the teacher this morning, not complaining about it, but more wondering what my husband and I had missed, wondering if in fact the problem is we are both too literal. She assured me that what we did would be fine.
What we found was... you pretty much got an A if you tried. It wasn't meant to bring the grade down, but to do something to hammer the topic home.
As I stood outside the school this morning, while Bones took his project inside, kids walked in with pizza shaped Earths, one was in a pie plate, yet another was in a small flat bowl. I looked at Bones and said, "Do none of these kids understand the definition of a SPHERE? She asked for a HALF SPHERE. A pizza is a slice of the Earth, NOT a sphere!"
Bones looked at me, pulled me down to kiss my cheek and said, "Mom, it's all OK..." Heh.
I did email her back tonight and let her know that the word 'sphere' is what really made it a challenge. Hells bells, if I'd known we could do something flat, Bones would have used a pie tin as well. What a piece of cake that would have been!
I think the problem was... poor directions. Next year she needs better directions.
I don't think it is possible to be more exhausted than I have been lately. My husband is traveling again this weekend, which means it'll just be me and the boys.
I feel Mo's for dinner on the horizon...
Welcome to Mo's!
For the record, I don't believe, nor do any of the engineers I work with believe, that was an aircraft contrail.
I don't live in Broward County. My children were not effected by the Lockdown.
Evidently this 'your mom' thing is back. Listening to the boys banter, I think it goes like this:
Boy1: Your lunch stinks.
Boy2: You stink.
Boy1: Your Mom stinks.
That's pretty much the big thing, from what I gather.
Mr. T got in the car the other day and said to Ringo, "You know, it kind of stinks that we share the same mom. We can't insult each other..."
And the boys are learning they have to watch it...
Via Ringo, they were at lunch, a group of boys, when this happened between Boy1 and Boy2:
Boy1: Your dog is fat...
Boy2: You're fat.
Boy1: Your Mom is fat...
Boy2: Yeah. She is. You have a problem with that? You have some issues we need to discuss?
Boy1: *blink* *silence*
So Ringo said he's REALLY careful now about how he jokes about someone's Mom. That made me laugh...
While I was gone, this was a vegetable free zone. Not ONE vegetable was eaten in this house.
I made squash tonight and was made aware, that unless it is in bread, squash is a no. It's a texture thing and Ringo and T just can't choke it down.
No more squash. (I love it... I'll end up eating all of it roasted.)
Bones has had the most stupid science project EVER in the history of 6th grade science.
An Edible Earth.
He was to make something edible, in a half sphere, with a solid core, a liquid mantle, a semisolid inner core and a solid outer core.
Did I mention the word... liquid? Are you efing kidding me? Really?
Who thinks of this crap because quite frankly, after tonight, I'd like to shove liquid up their solid core.
There is not a liquid in my son's project and she can kiss my butt. Bones is stressed about it, but we just couldn't get a liquid to stay, get transported, and last until class. As it is, I have to take him to school, have him take it in early and find a fridge.
Core: Strawberry. Mantle: low fat cool whip (pronounced wHip). Inner core: no sugar strawberry jello. Outer core: low fat graham cracker crumbs.
And we were only supposed to 'help'. Right.
Can I tell you how much we struggled with this? Trying to find crap that would stay in place? Finally in great exasperation, my ever lovin' husband at the end of his rope said, "WTF was she thinking? Really. I'm a DOCTOR, you're an ENGINEER, and we can't figure out how to make this the way she wants? Are you kidding me? What are the other kids doing?"
Half sphere, folks, half sphere. I'm refraining from telling her what she can do with her edible earth half sphere that we're only supposed to 'help' with.
Oh and it's all supposed to be... labeled. Outstanding.
My cell rang in the car today. It was my tech lead and I was off of work. I could feel my stomach start to churn wondering, "What broke now?...."
I answered to hear my Tech Lead declare loudly, "Bou, you are a Goddess among Goddesses..." and he put me on speaker phone.
My entire group cheered me.
Because I walked into the breakroom at work and as I heated up my lunch, a young man from next door came in and said, "I am back. My food didn't reheat."
I looked at our broken down microwave... a piece of crap that's so nasty that I tell people... "either none of us are going to get cancer because we're being irradiated every day, killing off anything bad, or we're ALL going to die of cancer because... we're being irradiated every day..." Our old one broke and they brought in this piece of junk, probably out of some engineer's garage, rather than buy us a new one.
I said, 'OK, that's it. I'm sick of this... I'm writing management..."
In all honesty, none of us did anything because we thought the radiation death trap was a joke. We kept expecting it to disappear and for a new one, like on the 2nd and 3rd floors, to appear. But after 6 months... it didn't.
And I walked back to my desk and tapped out an email to management, thanking them for even having a microwave for us to use, however, this was wholly inadequate, and I explained why, asking if I needed to take this up the chain, because I would.
According to my co-workers, there was a new microwave within... THREE HOURS.
My Tech Lead and I have known each other for over 23 years. He was the first to tell me at work, that I was essentially blunt and insensitive, I didn't hold back enough, and I needed diplomacy training.
I sat behind him for a few years. Someone would come to my desk, I'd be me, and he'd turn around after they left and say, 'OK, let's you and me discuss how that could have been handled... better.' We were 23 and 24 years old respectively, he being older.
So today he said, 'Dang. I'm so proud. All that diplomacy training is paying off. Look at us! We got a new microwave!"
And I'm evidently a Goddess Among Goddesses. Can't beat that with a stick...
I'm back from a fantastic weekend. I traveled up to see my sister and her baby and also spent the weekend at the Straight White House with a bunch of bloggers that I have come to know over the last six years. Seeing them once a year has become a real highlight to my year... every year, something I look forward to almost as much as Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Eric and his wonderful wife were... the best hosts ever, as always. They take hospitality to a whole new level.
Flying is a real hassle. Folks, I'm hear to tell you, there is nothing painless about it. Driving looks better all the time and if it were not for the fact I have children and actually MUST be home, I'd seriously think of making the trek by car, I so hate flying that much.
It was a bumpy flight, making me close my book at one point, take a deep breath, close my eyes and throw out a couple prayers. I hate those kind of flights, and it was this flight that I had my epiphany, I bet coming across a plane wreck, it smells of human excrement if it's not been burned up.
Maybe I'm wrong.
Morbid thought. But... it is what it is.
I also have decided that sitting in my favorite seat, on the aisle, is not safe anymore. With carry on luggage being all vogue and all, its like asking to be hit in the head with a 45 lb brick, as everyone and their brother now carries ONTO the plane, a week's worth of clothes, three pairs of shoes and a partridge in a pear tree.
Those dang pear trees are heavy.
So wondering if during the bumps of the flight a stowing door might open, throwing luggage onto my head or a 85 year old gent, who can hardly walk, let alone lift his carry on into the overhead compartment, accidentally drops his 45 pounds of pear trees on my head... I have decided as much as I loathe the middle, the middle may be the safest bet. (I don't like sitting against the fuselage.)
I see 'no more flying' eventually in my future. It just makes me a mental mess and I'm a mess enough with trying to keep track of my three kids... let alone all this flying business.
"Take off your shoes. If you have a liquid that is over 3 oz, they must be a in a clear plastic bag. Take off your coats. If you don't want to go through the naked scanner, we will do a full search, just short of a cavity search. Please feel free to keep your pear trees within your luggage, however. And throw a few bricks in there too for good measure. We don't worry that your bag may kill someone... just that YOU might."
On that note, more tomorrow, one of the funniest thing that happened to me while amidst the bloggers was something Recondo32 said to me in his deep slow southern drawl, "Well, now that you're a vegetable blogger..."
I keep laughing about it. I mean really really laughing. There are Mom bloggers, mil bloggers, political bloggers, pajama bloggers, cat bloggers...
... and then there is me... the vegetable blogger!
Which reminds me, nobody ate any of our dang vegetables when I was away! Holy cats we have a lot to eat... NOW. We'll be eating a lot of squash and egg plant this week.
And my sister's baby is the best. I love her so... Pictures hopefully soon. More on the blogmeet as well...
Dear President Obama,
I didn't vote for you and I'm not a bigot. I didn't vote for you because I didn't trust you, I didn't like your policy, and I just flat didn't like you.
You haven't let me down. As a matter of fact, you exceeded the depths of what I thought was possible in how much I could truly despise a President. I think I'd actually like Al Gore more than you. Why couldn't Hillary have taken the Dem nomination?
I have voted Democrat in the past here in the State of Florida. As a matter of fact, if you were to look at yesterday's ballot, for local stuff you'd see that I did punch D here or there. I'm not a straight ticket voter.
I'm an independent.
And you've SERIOUSLY SERIOUSLY pissed me off... to the point, that although my choice was between Scott and Sink, two folks I deemed not worthwhile to run our State, when I read how much Sink supported your policies I shut my eyes to her. Period. Add some extra stuff like her receiving the txt during her debate and her fate was sealed.
Locally, Allen West was my man, and quite frankly, I wasn't sure if I cared if he beat his wife, just as long as Ron Klein, worshipper of Obama, didn't get in.
That's what it came down to, Mr. President. I voted AGAINST ANYONE who I thought followed your policies, plain and simple.
Stop being an arrogant SOB. I'm sick to death of it. I think you've forgotten from where your paycheck comes. YOU WORK FOR ME.
Remember that. If I had it my way, you'd have been fired yesterday. I didn't. So you weren't.
Dear House of Representatives,
You're on final notice. Don't f*** this up. I'm sick of the spending. I'm sick of people thinking that my tax dollars are theirs to spend without accountability.
I'm sick of the arrogance.
In essence, I already hate you and you've not even had your first day. I hate you just for what you will probably become, if you have not already started morphing into the arrogant b@stards that are running MY country into the ground.
Nobody OWNS the right to my vote. You have to earn it to keep it.
You screw this up and I'll help vote your a$$es out next term.
The Three V's. That's today.
My home is overrun with fruits and vegetables. FOUR. Count them... 1, 2, 3, 4 pomegranates! Folks, that is a lot of funky fruit. (Thanks to Writersblock who sent me a vid on how to dig out the edible!)
But seriously, four of them. And I'm not sure my kids are going to be a fan. They're not exactly... sweet.
We're being overrun with phallic shaped vegetables. I'm including the eggplant, I had no idea was coming, just because, even if it would be an elephantitis situation. We have cucumbers and squash and eggplant and carrots... GOBS of them.
And I will readily confess, I got rid of the turnip greens. I walked into work this morning and said, "I'm thinking the turnip greens aren't being eaten unless I mix them with cheese, sour cream and bread crumbs to hide the taste." Most in my group turned their noses and replied they don't like them much, however, The Greek said he and his wife loved them.
So... rather then test them on my family, a household so overflowing with vegies I'm trying to figure out how they will all be readily consumed, I picked them up from Komrad Marie and brought them back to work for The Greek and his wife.
This is the deal. If its green and has a stalk, I don't like it limp. And that didn't really come out right. I like it firm. Which makes it sound worse. Really.
Mo and I were talking about it. For me it is a combination of texture, green soggy leaves are nasty feeling, and taste... I think you can taste the iron in them more when they're all soggy. Blech.
And some leafies are just not made to be eaten raw on a salad, for instance Chard, which illicited such a gag reflex that I nearly couldn't eat salad for a week after. I suspect turnip greens fall in that category.
I voted today. I have never missed a vote. It's not out of civic responsibility so much as it is out of Suffrage. Women did an awful lot to ensure my ability to vote and I take their sacrifices seriously.
I wonder often... Would I have had what it took to be a Suffragette? Honestly? In my 20s, absolutely. I'd fight anything for any reason in my 20s. Now, I'm so dead dog tired with kids, I hope I would still have what it took to stand up and demand the right.
Anyway, so I voted. I have never hidden from any of you that I'm an Independent. I am more of a social liberal (not all things, you can pry my husband's gun from my cold dead hands and I'm hugely pro National Defense) and a fiscal conservative.
This conversation happened between a girlfriend of mine, who is a Republican and a brilliant attorney. It was by phone, right after I voted:
Me: I have to get this off my chest.
Me: I couldn't do it Ann. I couldn't do it. I went down the list, I voted per my research and my heart and I left the Senatorial race for last. I came back to it... and I closed my eyes and asked for guidance and when I opened my eyes... I still hated them all.
Me: So. I voted Libertarian. I couldn't frickin' pull the trigger for any of them. I hate them all...
Her: You're confessing? My turn. I wrote in a friend's name instead.
Now we know Rubio won, but I flat couldn't do it. He's too conservative for me.
Meanwhile, last night this conversation happened within the family (my husband is a very conservative Republican)
Me: I'm voting Libertarian.
Hunhead: You keep saying that...
Me: I know! Because I'm going to do it! I'm frickin' PISSED!
Ringo: Mom, you won't win then....
Me: *sad expression* Son, we lost a long long time ago. I'm just trying to put on a good face and vote...
Meanwhile, I am glued to watching the precincts reporting. So far my man Allen West is kicking Klein's a$$, but I'm not holding out hope that its permanent. I think its just early going.
Turnip Greens and Voting, what do they have in common?
They both make me want to vomit.
Remembering back to high school French, my favorite freshman lesson:
Which translates to, I vomit, you (singular) vomit, he/she vomits, we vomit, you (plural) vomit, they vomit.
My French lesson for the day. You can thank me later...
It's that time of month again, folks, and no, not THAT time of month.
'Tis time to visit Komrad Marie for our bimonthly 'share' of organic vegetables. What freaky fruit or vegetable will I be trying to turn into a bread this week?
I received the list and once again, did no research. Here we go... on the side of what I think my kids will hate and how I might entice them to try it:
Tiny Crimson Gold Apples- What's with the tiny? And folks, I don't need anymore stinking apples. I need to make a pie... we still have apples from two weeks ago. Sheesh.
Pomegranates- Really? Plural? I don't think my kids are going to eat this freaky fruit, even if I tell them its good for their prostates. That's the equivalent of when I tell them all the green vegies are good for their colons. They love that. Pomegranate... apple sauce bread. I see it coming...
Honeycrisp Apples- Crap. Are you kidding? MORE apples? It makes me wonder about the 'tiny' from above. Do we mean grape sized apples? And these are normal?
Turnip Greens- And this is where we officially hit the stop zone with my kids. So far, the greens have not been a hit. Chard. No. Kale. Not so much. Now we're looking at the top ends of turnips. Rabbits eat this... for sure. I'm thinking bread is out... I've never in my life heard of turnip green bread. I'm thinking that they're going to need a lot of sour cream, cheese, and bread crumbs... maybe some sherry... to turn into a casserole. I will have research to do...
So that's the 'not normal in this house' stuff coming in this week's share. Stay tuned...
Oh, and they provide recipes in advance. It was all very Greek looking this week regarding the other items I'll be receiving. I'll forgo and tread out on my own...
I do believe I receive a share right before Thanksgiving. Don't think for a minute I won't allow all my guests to partake in this adventure. heh heh heh...