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Wife. Mommy. Lover of cookies.

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RT @HonestToddler: Toddler Tip: She has a bounty of nerves underneath that "last" one. Don't worry :)

Archive: July 2003

Baby, It’s Hot Outside

I think Kevin had the right idea today. While he watched Nascar and lounged, I went to the store, then came home to clean the kitchen and make dinner. I’m always leery of trying new recipes, but only because I know I’ll have to tweak them the next time. Tonight, however, we hit a home run.
I get bored with the same old food, so every once in a while I’ll crack open a cookbook and look for something new to try (I have to be careful and not tell Kev in advance, or he won’t eat it…). I came across a recipe for roasted chicken with a souffle accompaniment, and it was so tasty! No tweaking required! Even Kevin went back for seconds, so I know it was yummy. Tomorrow, I think I’ll do a Chicken Au Poivre….

Heat Stroke, Anyone?

Well, he’s still alive, although he has been napping for 2 hours. Shortly, however, I will go awaken Sleeping Beauty for our Saturday Night O’ Fun. We’re heading down to Arlington to have dinner and and a minor party with some friends, so a fun time should be had by all!

When The Boy’s Away

Kevin is playing golf today, although why anyone would willingly spend 5 hours in this heat is beyond me. However, his absence leaves me free to relax and hang out at the house. I just watched The Sandlot for the 50th time, and I gotta tell you, I love this movie. Now back to the couch….

And In Case I Don’t See You

Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Good Night!

Help Me. Help Us All.

My husband has just added Lionel Richie’s Greatest Hits to our music collection. I know they said “Through sickness and through health”, but is this pushing the limits?

Underreported? You Decide.

Every once in a while, there is a story that gets buried in the news, garnering only a brief soundbite. This is one of those stories. It’s no secret that I like a conspiracy as much as the next person, but this just reeks of something sinister….

Too Much Time

And I thought I had too much time on my hands. At least I’m not this guy.
The best line?
“The former Boeing engineer and computer-software tester plans to head back to school to become a high-school math and science teacher.”
I weep for the future.

It’s Not TV

It’s so totally HBO. Well, well, well. This should make for an interesting Awards show, since I’d be hard-pressed to choose my favorite drama from those nominated. Go HBO!

Are You Happy Now, Mom?

I discovered a troll yesterday in my comments. It seems I was publicly reprimanded by my own mother, so, in an effort to redeem myself, I shall now expound on the culinary delights which were a large part of last weeks’ Girls’ Night.
It should be noted that when a certain group of us get together, we almost always wind up in the kitchen. Usually, this migration occurs after we have already imbibed a large amount of alcohol, so it’s probably not the best place for us to be. None of this, however, serves as a sufficient deterrent. So there we were, after a quick trip to the grocery store, preparing a veritable summer feast. Allen was in charge of the crusty bread, complete with Roma tomatoes, fresh basil (from Mom’s garden), and parmesan cheese. Meanwhile, Mom was busy preparing a cold asparagus salad with green and white asparagus, a lovely French goat cheese, shallots, and a simple yet tangy balsamic vinaigarette. All of this was nothing, however, compared to Mom’s Pappardelle with Roma tomatoes, basil, garlic, and mozarella. Dessert was a platter of fresh figs and dates served with a yummy aged Gouda. Needless to say, we were full.
So yes, Mom. The beer was good. The wine was good. But the food was extraordinary. And you can feel free to come and cook for me any time!

Oh, My!

Ladies, do not be offended. Here’s medical proof that it’s not only normal, it’s actually healthy.

Tortured, Tangled Hearts

It appears that the women in my family must continually try to one-up one another. We have each struggled all of our lives to find our own unique style; however, God will not let us forget that we are all bound together by an alphabet soup of cardiac problems. First, it was WPW (that one belongs to my older sister). Not to be outdone, I quickly followed with SVT, clearly the more exotic. Now, it seems my mother has been diagnosed with MVP. Dammit! Who decided she gets to be the Most Valuable Player?
Now, before you all freak out and wonder how I could possibly joke about something as serious as heart trouble, please understand that none of these conditions are in the least bit life threatening. Sure, it’s scary when you have to call your husband to have him take you to the emergency room on Valentine’s Day, but trust me when I tell you that none of these conditions are anything that a good calcium channel blocker and a red wine-aspirin cocktail can’t control.
So that’s the news today, and I, for one, am grateful that Mom’s fainting spells weren’t an indication of a bigger, meaner problem. I’ve been worrying about it for a few weeks now, and I’m extremely relieved. But, now that my stress level is up, somebody pass the Verapamil.

Bra-vo!

I’ve always loved Bravo. They do fantastic documentaries AND they run the Audrey Hepburn marathon, like, once a month. This network, however, has now completely won my heart with their new series “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy“. This is the funniest show I’ve ever seen. It’s like Trading Spaces meets What Not To Wear, but with five gay men making over a hopelessly inept straight guy. They tackle everything: Clothes, hair, house, kitchen….Nothing is off-limits. Go watch it right now!

Even Demerol Can’t Kill The Pain

Ouch. That’s the only word I can even get out of my mouth. Sure, I’m into fashion as much as the next gal, but there are limits. I’ve never been much of a shoe girl. I know plenty of women that have had to construct an entire addition to their house just to store their vast collection of Jimmy Choos and Manolo Blahniks, but sister, that ain’t me. My feet are currently soaking in an ice bath in a vain attempt to stop the oh-so-unattractive swelling induced by a three hour torture session in a pair of fabulously cute and sadistic, hip and trendy, black strappy pumps from 9 West, which I’m fairly certain were designed by Satan himself deep in the bowels of Hell. In fact, I think it’s reasonable to assume that all high heels are manufactured in the 10th circle of Hell. If you want to unleash utter terror on me, just wave a pair of Death Shoes in my face and soon you’ll hear me scream, “Back! Back, Devil Shoes! Go back to your rightful place in the Netherworld, Satan’s tools of sadism!!”
Call me whiny, but the pain is so intense that I would actually choose a root canal. Hey, God invented Easy Spirits for a reason. I’m beginning to think that my Grandmother has a point….

Because He’s The Best

I spent today playing Little Suzie Homemaker, which is something that I really love to do. This time, however, I had my husband in mind. I did laundry, I cleaned the house, and I even went to the store for some essentials. I made his very favorite dinner, and to top it all off, I made the world’s best chocolate cake. It’s not my recipe, so I can’t take credit, but this cake truly defies all natural laws. Why did I do all of this, you ask? Quite simply, because I am married to the most loving, supportive, gracious, generous, fantastic man in the world.

The Return of the Idiot Girls!

My favorite funny girl has a new book out, and it’s hilarious. Autobiography of a Fat Bride is a collection of the continued adventures of the original Idiot Girl herself, and the perfect remedy for a foul mood. Now go and buy it. Scoot!

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