The Cook's Night Off

I came home tonight with great and marvelous plans.

I got off work at the normal time, stopped at the normal little market on the way home to get the pork chops I planned to fry up in the pan along with various and sundry other items. We were going to have us a feast tonight. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, pan gravy, corn on the cob, green beans and fresh tomatoes.

My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

And then....and then I got home.

The Boy in his infinite wisdom had decided I wasn't going to cook tonight, so he'd just finished a can of vegetable beef soup. Besides, his throat was sore and he didn't think he could swallow pork chops. So after I got home he had half a gallon of ice cream to "help" his sore throat.

Uh-huh.

Hubster was still fighting a head cold and complaining that he wasn't hungry. Besides, he couldn't taste anything anyway, so why bother cooking?

Why indeed?

So, out the window went the marvelous meal I had planned for this evening. Instead, we watched television until we got hungry, then got up and had sandwiches.

I just want it put on the record that I REALLY WAS GOING TO COOK TONIGHT.

REALLY.

And I've got the chops to prove it.

Please Sir, Can I Go Home Now?

My stomach seems to be at odds with the rest of my body today.

Do you think it could be the really bad coffee we had at the hospital all evening long, or was it perhaps the spaghetti dinner The Boy fixed and had waiting when I walked in the door at 9:30 p.m. last night?

Whatever the case, it's been crackers for breakfast to try and settle things down, followed by a healthy dose of Xanax. The only problem with the healthy dose of Xanax is that I'm falling asleep at my desk as I type. Forget about work or writing Ye Olde Blogge. I'm fighting to keep from having my boss call the paramedics because I'm bringing the office down around everyones' ears due to All The Snoring.

Add to that the fact that Hubster was kind enough to share his head cold with me, and you have an almost perfect scenario for an almost perfect day.

Oh, and it's raining.

Does anyone have a spare hole I can crawl into just for the day? I promise to bring my own blanket and pillow, and I really won't scare too many woodland creatures out of existence.

I might even buy them leeetle tiny earplugs...

Enjoying The Fruits Of Her Labor

Tonight, my friends, we feasted.

I got off work on time and hurried home since it wasn't my night to go to the rehab center. I thought I'd fix dinner before my 6 p.m. appointment to get my hair cut, but no one could decide what to have. Finally, I had a stroke of genius.

Bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches. With fresh tomatoes out of Mom's garden.

For once, everyone was in agreement. Everyone decided to help.

While I went to get my hair cut, Hubster went to harvest the tomatoes. The Girl drove to the grocery store for lettuce and bacon along with Pseudo Daughter. The Boy got the lawnmower out and mowed the back yard.

I didn't say everyone helped out with the MEAL.

When I got home I cooked up the two packages of bacon and sliced four huge tomatoes. I washed the lettuce, toasted the bread and had The Boy set the table since he was in from mowing by that time.

And then we called the herd in to the feedbag.

By that time The Girl had a friend over, but since she'd eaten already there was more for us. She was assigned the duty of toasting more bread as we needed it. Good thing, because the five of us polished off EVERY. SINGLE. BIT.

And indeed and for sure, those were the best BLTs we've ever had. Well, the best ones so far this year anyway. Tomato season has just started, and I can't wait for more to ripen.

The taste of these tomatoes may have to do us a good, long time. This is the last garden Mom will ever plant. She's been our supplier of fresh green beans and tomatoes, okra, green peppers, and lettuce ever since I can remember. In addition, we have been the willing recipients of thousands of jars of the bounty from her garden, things she canned for us out of love. That will also be a thing of the past.

And I will sorely miss it all.

Sure, I can try to grow those things myself, and I will. I can put the vegetables in jars the same way she did. I can grow and harvest all the same fruits and vegetables.

But somehow I know they'll never be as good as Mom's.

I'm Milking Something That Ain't A Cow

Today I decided to treat myself to one of those intermittent pedicures I like to indulge in every so often. I even emailed HeyJules to see if she wanted to join me, but she must have been too busy or didn't see the email. Turns out it was just as well.

It took two hours.

Oh, not that I wasn't in a state of bliss for those two hours. Not at all. I mean, who wouldn't love soaking tired, hot feet in a jacuzzi of warm water for twenty minutes or so while having a back and shoulder massage by the chair you're sitting in? And then, if you just so happen to let it slip that you've had a very hard couple of weeks and this is your way of relaxing, the person who is in charge of your pedicure AND manicure might just put in super extra time massaging your feet and hands, especially if you mention offhandedly about the arthritis you have in your feet that has been bothering you for so long and your husband won't EVER rub your tootsies for you.

Ahem.

So there was great rejoicing in All The Rubbing, my friends. Great and powerful rejoicing indeed. And the compliments to the Hands Created By God To Ease Pain And Suffering flowed freely from my lips. Yea, and the feet which were rubbed did indeed do a little happy dance all on their own accord.

Of course, I think the two glasses of Sangria they provided had a little something to do with that, but I could be mistaken. Stranger things have happened.

One of these days I may end up taking this, my one guilty pleasure, for granted.

But it won't be any time soon.

Butter Me Up

I am in need of highly caloric starch, laden with fats. I need a loaf of fresh bread wrapped around a stick of melted butter. Along with that I'd like some mashed potatoes made with cream and butter. And some fresh corn with butter.

And maybe just a side of butter.

It came over me all of a sudden. One minute I was happy with the tuna salad and crackers I'd eaten for lunch, and the next I was not just hungry, but RAVENOUS. Dinner won't be until late tonight, and I don't think I can hold out without grabbing something.

Like part of my desk, or a small animal or something. Which could be really disgusting seeing as I work in midtown, and the small animals we have here are vermin-filled and bite back.

But anything tastes better with butter.

Then again, it could be the fact that I've lost ten pounds since the Great Mom Disaster of Twenty Aught Eight, and my body is trying to make up for it.

Curse you, body.

So I think I see a chocolate/coffee shake in my future. Just enough to tide me over until dinner. Because, you know, I wouldn't want to WASTE AWAY or anything.

But I promise to hold the butter.

Coffee Is Supposed To Take Care Of This

This morning HeyJules and I had the monthly coffee talk that we missed earlier in the month. It was great to catch up, being as with all that's been going on we haven't had a chance to see much of each other lately.

Since it was such a special day, I decided to try a different drink instead of the usual venti nonfat mocha w/whipped at our local Starbucks. I got one of the newfangled drinks where they mix whey protein powder with a banana and add chocolate and a shot of espresso. For $3.75 I expected it to be somewhat like a coffee/chocolate/banana smoothie.

What it was? Pretty bland and tasteless. Even with the added shot.

There was enough left in the container so that I could get them to fill part of a glass for HeyJules as well so she could taste it. She did, and pronounced it bland before I ever got the chance to taste mine.

So Starbucks? Two expert opinions of the new, "healthy" Vivanno drink?

Thumbs down.

Vivanno™ Nourishing Blends - Chocolate Banana
Freshly prepared with a whole banana, bittersweet cocoa, 2% milk and our own proprietary whey protein & fiber powder and ice.

In other news, the lack of caffeine, even with the shot, apparently set off a migraine of vast proportions. I spent the next four hours in bed dreaming of lightning bolts blowing up the trees in my yard and starting fires and tornadoes attacking my house. Hubster is working on the neighbor's house, and he came home to check on me to see if I was still alive once. I finally got hold of some Imitrex and managed to become somewhat human this evening, but it's been a rough day.

I think I need some coffee.

The Pain Of The Price Of Gas Is Eased By An Award

I'm a simple human being.

When I'm tired, I get cranky and stay that way until I get sleep. When I'm hot, which happens most of the time, I get cranky until I get cooled off. When I'm hungry, I get cranky until I get fed.

I think you see the pattern here.

Along with that comes my need to vent to humanity as we know it about the innermost secrets, feelings, and foibles of my life, albeit in what I hope is a somewhat humorous way. It's a stress reliever. It's my creative outlet. It's therapy.

And in some ways it's survival of the highest caliber, given that I would probably go off on some sort of naked, running-through-the-streets, belly-dancing-with-a-lampshade-on-my-head tangent without it.

You're welcome for that mental picture.

And that's why I was so surprised to be the recipient of this very nice award!



Linds over at Rocking Chair Reflections was kind enough to bestow it upon me, mostly because I believe she's just a bit batty herself and birds of a feather, you know, are better than two in the bush. And in turn, I'm supposed to pass on the love. So here goes:

Jon over at Ransom Note Typography has some hilarious posts that make him my first recipient. I don't really know how I found him, but I'm glad I did. He makes me laugh.

Another person that makes me laugh is Quinn at The QC Report. When you read her blog you will discover that she is, indeed, Quinn Cummings of childhood television and movie fame, and that she is more or less a regular gal that just happens to have a heckuva sense of humor and a wicked talent with a word processor. When she gave up acting and picked up a pen we were all blessed in the humor department.

Last, but certainly neck and neck with the crowd, is Melanie of This Ain't New York. She's made me chuckle more than once over the critters from the pond out back, and since she's moving I'm looking forward to new and exciting adventures.

Congrats all!

Home, Home On The Range

Never negate the value of a home-cooked meal, my friends. Never.

In the past month I have eaten more hospital cafeteria food than I would ever want to even look at in a lifetime of visiting friends in the hospital. A veritable plethora of barely passable victuals, and a mountain of salad bar salad that would feed a herd of water buffalo for a good, long drought.

It hasn't been pretty.

I knew I had gone off the deep end when I ate what appeared to be canned meatloaf covered in canned tomatoes with a side of soggy steamed vegetables and mashed potatoes of questionable parentage and actually thought it was....good. My mother would have slapped me with her good hand had she known. And she would have probably picked up the other one and beaten me with it as well.

That's just the kind of people we are.

And lest you think I'm being rather callous about her stroke and her inability to use her left hand, let me assure you again...

That's just the kind of people we are.

While the past month hasn't been fun, we have laughed, cried, joked, and thoroughly enjoyed each and every moment of life with Mom. As one of the nurses said, "I've never seen anyone have so much fun with a colonoscopy prep, and I've been in nursing 20 years."

So I'll take the home-cooked meals where I can get them, along with the laughing and the love we share. And if I have to suffer through a few more hospital meals, I'll live.

Just don't give me any more canned meatloaf.

We've Been A Little Busy Here

Spending every other night at the hospital with Mom, so posts will be scarce.

Please feel free to enjoy your favorite beverage and/or television programs in our absence.

We hope to return to regular programming soon.

In Which I Become A Bonafide Penny-Pincher And My Family LIKES It For A Change

A while back I decided I was going to stop paying for laundry soap.

So instead, I take my family's laundry out back to the crik and beat it on a big ol' rock to get it clean.

Not really.

Instead, I make my own. It really is much cheaper and cleans just as well or better than any laundry soap I've ever used before. As a matter of fact, we ran out this week and THE KIDS ASKED ME TO MAKE MORE.

Oh yes, they did.

So today, I'm going to share with you the source of my laundry joy. I mean, as if there ever was such a thing.

Basically, it's one bar of your favorite soap (Fels Naptha is suggested, although I can't abide the smell of it), 1 1/2 cups of borax, 1 1/2 cups of washing soda and water.

I grind up the bar of soap in my food processor to a fine powder after I cut it up in pieces, then heat it, along with 12 cups of water on the stove until the soap melts. I add the borax (think 20 Mule Team Borax) and the washing soda (I use Arm and Hammer - but not baking soda) and cook it until it dissolves. Then I add three gallons (more or less) of water, mix the whole thing together and let it sit overnight.

I end up with a semi-jelled, gloppy mess that I use 1/2 cup of every time I wash clothes. For larger loads I use more, smaller loads, less. It averages out to much less than I would spend on even the least expensive store brand of detergent, yet cleans my clothing just as well. I just used the last of my first box of washing soda, and I believe I got four batches of laundry soap out of it. I still have some of my first box of borax left, since it comes in a bigger box.

I nipped and tucked the recipe a bit to fit my own proportions, as I'm sure you'll do.

And it works for me!

Innocence, Thy Name Is Little Man

Today the alarm went off at 6 ayem.

I, however, did not.

I haven't slept well the past few nights, so I decided to do the Fifteen More Minutes Waltz. Unfortunately, it turned into the Two Hours And Fifteen Minutes Snore-a-thon, and I woke up fifteen minutes later than I would normally leave for work.

Usually Hubster would be home long before then and would have hauled my sorry behind out of bed, but this morning he had to go pick up Little Man and Sweetie Pie from the Eldest Daughter. She had Things To Do, and needed a sitter.

So as I was in the bathroom getting ready with only my upper undergarment on, I heard a little voice say, "Hi Gramma! Whatcha doin'?"

Trying to make light of the fact that I was HALF NAKED, that's what. I immediately sat down on the porcelain appliance and said, "Getting ready for work, Little Man. What're YOU doin'?"

He answered by saying,"Well, Grampa just broughted me here and I came up to see you. Why are you goin' potty?"

Three-year-olds. Honest, direct, to the point. I changed the subject and told him I had to finish getting ready for work, so he'd better go downstairs and see what Grandpa was doing. Then I rushed off to work without telling anyone goodbye and got there only 20 minutes late.

At lunchtime I called home.

"How's it going, Little Man?"

"Just fine, but Gramma? You dint tell me bye when you goed in your car."

"I'm sorry, Little Man. I won't do that again."

"Yeah, alright. Don't do that 'gin."

And that, as they say, was that.

Believe It Or Not

I cooked dinner tonight!

OK, so I didn't really COOK dinner in the true sense of the word. I actually browned some hamburger and added Ragu to it, and then poured the whole mess over some spaghetti noodles I boiled.

It was not my most spectacular and shining culinary moment.

However, it was a meal. At home. At the dinner table. Which is a feat in and of itself these past few weeks. Tomorrow we may not be so fortunate, so I'm taking family meals where I can get them.

Well, if you consider "family" to be Hubster and me alone, being as The Boy is spending the weekend with a friend and The Girl went out to eat with another friend.

So to recap, I "cooked" for the "family" and we ate at home. I think that about sums it up.

But wait, there's more!

Last night around 9:30 p.m. I made the bargain purchase of ALL TIME. Seriously. And I'm about to let you in on it.

Our local Hy-Vee grinds premium hamburger every day. I'm talking 90 to 95% lean here, folks. This is the stuff they keep behind the counter and weigh out for customers like a butcher shop does, not the stuff that's packaged, wrapped and set out in the cooling case.

At 8 p.m. the specialty meat department closes. Since they grind the premium stuff every day, around 9:30 p.m. they package and set out the leftover premium stuff in large packages (5 - 7 lbs. each) at the bargain price of $1.99/lb. so they can get rid of it quickly.

Last night I bought all of it they had, seven packages, and a box of quart-sized ziplock bags.

We're in Hamburger Heaven for quite some time, folks.

At the same time I found boneless, skinless chicken breasts on sale for $1.99/lb. and ice cream for $2.50 for half a gallon.

Can I get an AMEN! from the congregation???

And to top it all off, I spent enough to get ten cents a gallon off of any gas purchased at the Hy-Vee tanks. Being as my tank was empty, I took advantage of that little blessing.

I don't know if I've said this before or not, but folks?

God is good.

Am I Really THAT Old?

"Mom, did you know Mountain Dew used to come in GLASS BOTTLES???"

"Yes, Son. So did Coke and Sprite and 7UP and Dr. Pepper...."

"YOU'RE KIDDING ME!!! HOW COOL WAS THAT?!?!"

Ugh.

The Fourth Was A Fizzle, So I'm Taking The Fifth

I decided to have a night alone last night to celebrate my Independence.

The Boy and Hubster went off to Eldest Girl's home in the country, where The Boy was able to shoot off his plethora of pyrotechnics. This is the night he waits for the entire year, and the night I semi-dread due to All The Booming, so I was happy to be in my solitude.

In the quiet.

Alone.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..........

I wrote for a while, read for a while, and relaxed. I ate fresh green beans cooked with ham, onions and new potatoes. I played computer games. Then, long about 10:30 p.m. I did what every red-blooded American who is celebrating their freedom does on a night such as this.

I went to Wal-Mart.

Ostensibly, it was to purchase an easy-to-don undergarment for Mom. However, seeing as they had none which would provide adequate support for the cause, so to speak, I purchased a new printer instead.

Oh hush.

I can write it off as a business expense. For my part-time job. Because I use it once a week. And my other printer was dead.

Oh, just HUSH.

Besides, I bought bread and milk that we needed as well. So that justifies the trip, right?

C'MON, here. Give me a LITTLE slack, will you? A gal's gotta celebrate in her own way.

Which brings us to today.

My good friend Linds has been such a great support the past few weeks blog-wise. I'd been thinking about doing something a little special for her. So today, while she was reclining on her sofa with an ice pack on her injured knee, I made an overseas call.

Her son David answered, and when I asked to speak with Linds I heard him say "Some American on the phone for you, Mum."

The next thing I knew, the most honey-smooth, soft-as-silk, British accent filled my ears, and Linds and I spent the next fifteen minutes chatting away as only old friends can do. Email is one thing, but hearing someone's voice is absolutely the best! I honestly felt as though we'd known each other for a very long time. She's so warm and sweet, and if you haven't yet had the chance to read her and catch a glimpse of life in England, please do so. She has wonderful stories to tell.

And Linds? Please let me know at least a month in advance before you win the lottery and make your grand tour of the States. I'll need that long to shovel out the house.... :>) Get well soon!

I Feel The Need...

Yes, today is my monthly get-together with HeyJules. It seems like years since the last time we talked, and I have a feeling this one will take a while as well.

Maybe even enough for TWO venti-iced-nonfat-w/whipped mochas, eh? I could be on a buzz until NEXT month at that rate.

Can't wait!

My Lack Of Directional Sense Has Either Gone Into Overdrive, Or I Must Be Under A Wee Bit Of Stress Lately

Picture this:

One hallway.

One.

Thirty beds TOTAL in the hallway, most of which are in semi-private rooms.

Entry is through the middle of the hallway where the nurses' desk is.

The question is, do I turn left, or do I turn right to get to Mom's room?

The answer? Simple!

I ask a nurse because I CAN'T FIGURE IT OUT EVEN THOUGH I'VE BEEN THERE ALREADY.

Honestly, I could be a REALLY good spokesperson for a GPS system. And I'm open to trying any model anyone wants to send me.

Heck, I could even use a map if I could figure out where I was to begin with....

OK, I'm No Longer So Verklempt

Tonight a couple of things happened.

First of all, I went to Mom's house to do her laundry with her soap and fabric softener since I knew the brands she used wouldn't break her out and I had no idea what those brands were.

Secondly, while I was there God decided to deluge the earth with rain, causing Mom's basement to flood while I was in it doing laundry. I was kept busy sweepiing water out the garage door for two hours.

Let me just say this: I've had better times in my life.

Thankfully, The Boy was there with me. He helped to keep the sump pump running. Then Hubster came over and we moved some antiques that were stored in the basement to be sure they wouldn't get damaged if the rain kept up tonight.

There is something to be said for the exercise one can get taking that push broom to all that water.

Unfortunately, I do believe I'd get booted out of the blogging world for using that kind of language.

This is a family blog, people.

And this part of the family is going to bed.

I'm Sending Out An SOS Since The Email Doesn't Seem To Be Working

Gasp.

Choke.

I have been without incoming email now for 24 hours or more. It seems there is a hitch in the email getalong, not unlike a kink in the oxygen line of a deep-sea diver. THEY have promised it will be fixed by tomorrow and I have promised THEM my head will explode if it isn't.

Because I am all about the Extremely Truthful Statement.

How on earth can I survive without all those offers for enlargers for parts I don't have? What will I do without the numerous ads from Starbucks, JCPenney, Big Lots, Amazon, Borders, and all those other companies who can't live without my business?

Honestly, I could be putting corporate America at risk here, and THEY don't even care!

In the meantime, I'll just try to quell this twitch I have developed in my right eye that coincides with the jerk of my head to one side every 3.4 seconds or so.

I'm sure it's nothing.

Really.