If I Were Julie Andrews, I Would Sing About Them

There are a few things in my life that I absolutely love. Yes, my family, yes, the Gospel. But for this post, I'm writing about the material things that I love so so much. Just a few items that whenever I use them, I am so grateful for them and know that I'd miss them very much if I ever had to do without them. 'Cause we are living in a material world, and I am a material girl. I LOVE these things!

These aren't in any particular order - just writing as I think of them.

1. My ipod shuffle. Troy bought it for me last Christmas. Sort of. The gift started out as a big 'ol video ipod and I quickly downsized it to the next smaller one, and then again to the shuffle. I wanted as small as I could get for the gym. Plus, I didn't want to mess with having a screen and too many options - the simpler the better. My ultra-cool and very ipod-savvy sister Rachel helped me get set up ripping songs and downloading from itunes. I've filled it with lots of fast, hard rhythm songs - lots of 80's and and a surprising amount of Aerosmith - stuff to keep me moving on the elliptical.

2. My Physician's Formula Mineral Wear makeup. Love this stuff. I have rosacea - red skin on my cheeks that will flare up and glow if I get hot, eat spicy or hot foods, take a hot shower or bath, get nervous, angry, or have to speak in front of people. Sometimes it flares up for absolutely no reason at all. Yeah, no creamy, smooth complexion for me. But this mineral makeup does an amazing job of evening out my skin tone. And, it's super easy to apply. When I first started using it, I was so giddy about it, I'd put it on one half of my face and show Troy the side-by-side difference. "Can you tell, can you TEEEELLLL?" And he'd sort of nod and say "uh huh".

3. Tivo. I still love it, even though it betrayed me last week. Twice. I missed the first episode of Dancing with the Stars because it thought that one of Troy's programs had a higher recording priority than mine. As if. We've had a little talk and hopefully that won't happen again. The second time that things went awry, it was sort of my fault. With all the season premieres and new time slots, I was just asking too much. Tivo missed the premiere of House, but taped the second episode of DwtS and The Biggest Loser for me. Like all relationships, sometimes you have to readjust your expectations, so that's what I'm doing. I love my Tivo, but there will be some trust issues for a while.

4. Vidalia Onion Chopper. Used it today, in fact. You can read about my love of this As Seen On TV kitchen tool here.

5. My laptop. I got it last Christmas too. All through our marriage, Troy has liked to give me "grand gesture" kind of gifts - and I routinely return them. Too expensive, a smaller one will do (see #1), don't need it, etc. But this. Oh, I so wanted this! I love it every time I sit in front of it. The mouse is never sticky. It is mine.

6. My Copper Pot. A couple of years ago, I found it at the DI. I think it cost $3. It is so heavy and so old, and I imagine that someone else used to love it too. I use it just one month out of the year for cooking. I make toffee at Christmas time in it, and it turns out perfectly, every single time. So this one I don't use very often, but when I do, I'm so glad that I have it, and I remember that I love it all over again. The rest of the year, it sits on top of my cupboards, looking all rustic and decorative. Okay, I love it then too.

7. My new Camera. I got it for my birthday. It's super small, with a big screen, and rechargeable batteries! I'm still learning all the functions and the whole when to flash and when not to flash rules. It lets me take pictures up close like this:

Careful. If you blink, you'll get pollen on your eyelashes.

There's also a feature that will make the water up at Bear Lake super blue, and one that will make pictures taken in the snow super white. Can't wait to try those out.

I really really love my new camera 'cause it lets me capture the people I love. See, I'm not completely materialistic.

Okay, so my list might not include the raindrops on roses and the whiskers on kittens - but I do happen to love my own bright copper kettle. Warm mittens aren't bad either. Just try to get that song out of your head now.

Keep humming, and tell me,

What are a few of your favorite things?

As Requested...Chicken Divan

Okay, enough people (um...two maybe?) asked for my Mom's recipe for Chicken Divan that I thought I would post it. Hope your family likes it as much as I always have. It is the "good enough for company" casserole in my book, I mean, on my plate.



I'm copying this from a pretty little recipe card that my Mom gave to me at one of my bridal showers. I have 15 or so of these cards, each with a recipe that I grew up on. The only thing in this recipe that has changed since my Mom wrote this, is the type of broccoli you use. She used to buy frozen broccoli spears in a square package, and plop it in a pot of boiling water to cook. I don't even know if you can buy broccoli spears anymore - the floret is where it's at. That's the only thing that won't match the original.

*********************************************************

CHICKEN DIVAN

• Enough broccoli florets to equal 2 square packages of spears. Just put in what you think your family will eat.
• 6 chicken breasts, cooked and cut into long, thick slices. Or just use tenders.
• 2 cans Cream of Chicken soup
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1 Tbsp. lemon juice
• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Mix the soup, mayo, and lemon juice. Cook broccoli until crisp-tender and place on bottom of a casserole dish. Place chicken on top and pour soup mixture over chicken. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. Sprinkle grated cheese on top and bake 10 minutes more.

*********************************************************

That's it! Couldn't be easier. We ate this meal with rolls, a red (cherry or raspberry) jello that had grated apples in it, and a green salad.

When Mom was trying to stretch this to feed more people, she'd cube the chicken and mix it all up in the sauce. I've also seen this where everything is mixed together instead of the layered look that this recipe has. Chopped broccoli, cubed chicken, rice (added, I'm sure, for more stretch), extra sauce, and then the melted cheese on top. Somehow, doing that makes it seem more casserole-y, and less like a Chicken Divan. It would just be Chicken and Broccoli and Rice Casserole. It would still taste yummy, but the presentation is shot.

The best part of this dish is the sauce. It's creamy, lemony, chickeny, and I'd lick the 9x13 pan to get every last little bit.

Let me know how you like it.

Why Troy Won't Go To the Gym with Me

Last week at the gym, I got into a predicament that was so alarming and goofy, I felt like Lucille Ball. I regret that a picture couldn't have been taken - I would have happily put it up here, just to save me the trouble of having to describe what happened and what I looked like. It's gonna take some 'Splaining. A picture would have helped.

For the past month or so, my trainer Laura, has been having me do some squats with weights on my shoulders. 'Cause it hurts more that way. I place a 15 pound weight on each shoulder and hold onto the ends, balancing them there, while I squat and pretend to sit on a bench. I'm supposed to do 3 sets of 15, and I can rest in between each set - but just getting the weights on my shoulders and settled and nestled is a pain, so I try to just plow through and do the 45. By the end, I'm red-faced, huffing and puffing a little and trying not to make an ugly face. Then I take those weights off and put them away as fast as I can. I'm worried that this particular exercise is making me shorter. (Sigh)

Whenever I go to the gym, I always pull my hair back in a ponytail. Can't stand to have my hair hanging down, getting my my eyes, making me sweat. But on this particular day, I decided not to pull my hair back. I wasn't doing any cardio, so I wouldn't sweat much. I'd straightened my hair and didn't want to make a ponytail dent because I had to go somewhere later. I was just lifting a few weights - no need to take three seconds and do what I'd always done. For whatever reason I didn't put my hair up that day, it was a very bad choice. I'm talkin' consequences, people.

So my hair is hanging down, couple inches past my shoulder.

I hoisted up the weight on my right side first. I set it down on my shoulder - and down on my hair. I could feel the weight tugging at my hair, so I lifted the weight up, bent my head over to the left (a move I cannot do right now, because of the car accident) to clear the hair out of the way, set the weight back down and straightened my head. My hair was now cascading over the top of the weight. Doesn't cascading sound better than bunched up and lying there? I did the same thing to the left side. I brought my hands to the front and cupped the ends of the weights.

I squatted. 45 times.

All I'm thinking about is getting the weights off and being done with this exercise. I brought my hands up to my shoulders and hooked my thumbs under the bar part, lifting the weights, while at the same time, curling my fingers down over and around the bar to get a good grip. I didn't think about what else was hanging down and around the bar - my cascading hair.

The weights were lifted a few inches off my shoulders, supported by my thumbs. I had plunged my fingers into my hair and was gripping it along with the 15 pound weights.

• My hair was pulled down tight from the top, I couldn't lower the weights.
• I couldn't loosen my grip on the weights and shake my hair free - it was all entwined in my fingers and gloves.
• I didn't want to drop the weights on my shoulders, 'cause...ouch. Might pull my hair too.
• I couldn't let go with my fingers - my thumbs couldn't support the weights by themselves.

I was stuck. Absolutely, stuck.

I looked like a crazy lady with some crazy barbell pigtails that I was holding in my hands.

Now most days, if there isn't anyone else in the weight room, I'm pleased. The room is small, dark, and hurts my personal space feelings. For a very brief moment, I was glad that no one was in there to see my predicament. Then, as the realization of just how stuck I was sank in, I began to wish for someone, anyone, to help me out. Those weights were getting heavy and they were blocking my peripheral vision.

In a panic, I started to giggle.

I made my way over to the weight racks and bent my entire upper body down to the top shelf. Standing sideways and with my head touching the wall, I gingerly laid the weight in my right hand on the rack. I pulled my hair out and stood up. I used my right hand to grab the end of the weight on my left side, and then I was free. A clean escape!

I brushed my hair back and sat down on a bench. Waited for the panicky adrenaline rush to subside. Whew. I giggled again, imagining just how absurd I looked. I don't think anyone saw me. I was able to save myself - maybe it was a good thing that no one was in the weight room with me. Could someone in the cardio room have seen...nah, who would be watching me?

Or...possibly...someone made their own blog entry that night:

You'll never guess what I saw at the gym today - some dorky girl didn't pull her hair up and was lifting weights...

Okay.

I'm writing the beginning and ending of the story right here, next to each other. Followed by the middle. The middle can wait, and for a story like this, I think it's important to know the ending as soon as you read the beginning.

I was in a bad car accident.
I am okay.

There. See why I did it that way? This isn't a cliffhanger episode of ER, where you find out a week later that when Ray had his accident, he lost both of his legs. I thought it would be best to put the good news right up next to the bad, so no one would worry. I am okay.

I've had a hard time finding my voice for this story. So far, the humor and wit that I try to lace my little ramblings with are hiding out and letting some other type of voice tell this one. Nothing has been funny so far about what happened. Maybe the purpose of writing it will be to cleanse myself of the ordeal - 'cause I am pretty freaked out by the whole thing. I will be okay.

Here are all the other parts of the story - just the details to fill up the space in and around "car accident" and "I am okay".

On Saturday, I had a tennis match at Liberty Park. I had considered skipping it, 'cause I really dislike driving downtown. My tennis buddy, Tonya, offered to drive and she picked me up at 12:45. We went to the match, played better than we did the previous week (we're 2.5 on a 3.0 team, dangit), and after staying a little later to play for fun, we headed back towards home. It was raining just a little bit. We talked about science fairs, homework, sleepovers vs. late nights, and weekend plans. We both had our seat belts on.

We were less than a mile from my home, heading toward an intersection with a green light and a red car, waiting to turn left. It didn't wait long enough. The driver started his turn just as we entered the intersection and our car hit his, full force. We saw that it was going to happen, and Tonya put on the brakes, but there was no time for that to do any good. I think one of us said something - I don't remember what, but it wasn't swearing and it wasn't a big ol' scream like in the movies.

I was watching the car move forward, so fast, right at the other car. My mind didn't swirl off to think of my boys or Troy - I was just watching for the impact, not believing that we were going to hit. When that impact came, my view of the whole thing ended. The airbags exploded loudly and with such remarkable force, and then we were stopped. The inside of the car was filled with the smoky airbag powder and I looked down at myself, honestly surprised that I was alive. I held my arms out, examining them, and said to Tonya, "I'm okay. Are you okay?" She was.

There were a few moments when we sorta kinda didn't know what to do next. Are we allowed to get out of the car? Are we really okay? Is this smoky stuff going to choke us? Yes, yes, and yes.

I was dialing 911 as I gathered my tennis bag and hauled myself out of the car. An explosion was sure to follow a crash like that, and heaven forbid I lose my racquet. Tonya was on her phone too, as well as many of the people that had seen the crash. Several people ran over to us, making sure we were okay. One lady brought us an umbrella to stand under. She kept patting my arm.

The kid in the car was okay too. His car must have spun all around - he was quite aways from us, standing, and talking on his cell phone.

The fire engine came and they asked if we needed to be checked out. Tonya had an abrasion on her neck from her seat belt and I think a few minor cuts on her hands. I had a decent little scrape on my right arm and elbow, a small cut on my hand, and my legs were stinging from the airbag. But nothing that needed checking.

I called Troy - he'd just gotten home and was getting in the shower. He came right over and stood with us in the rain. The police came, took statements, gathered information. Tonya's husband came. We hugged each other, and then Troy and I went home. Tonya's car is totaled.

At home, I hugged the boys, assured them that I was fine, showed them my red legs and scraped arm, and got in the shower. Troy and I went to a party at a friend's home and had a fabulous evening. My neck and shoulders were starting to hurt, but I was okay.

I woke up on Sunday morning and got ready for church. Neck and shoulders were feeling better, the redness on my legs was gone, replaced by a purpley bruise and I had a seat belt shaped diagonal stripe running across my chest. My whole chest hurt. I felt like I'd been beat up.

Later in the day, I went to the ER - just to make sure that things weren't slightly broken. They weren't. Just bruised and strained. I am okay.

This was the first accident I've ever been in. Not even a fender bender. In my mind, I don't feel as okay as my body seems to be. Troy and I have been going over the whole "what if" scenario pretty heavily. This could have been so much worse! No one was killed, no permanent injuries, it wasn't even our car involved. Why was I being all weepy and tense? I am so okay.

I could do without the approaching impact replaying in my mind. And the whole "life can change in an instant" reality check. I don't like thinking about the "what if".

I'm just going to concentrate on the fact that

I am okay. And that I have so much to be thankful for.

If you've ever been in an accident,
when did you really start feeling okay?

Lovin' From the Oven

As I brush off the shame of my last post and the sorry way I've been feeding my family, I've gotta write a few things about my Mom. She is an absolute master of the kitchen, tirelessly making delicious dinners for her family for over 40 years. So if you haven't read this, go back and read about the pitiful dinners I've been serving, then come right back here to read about my Mom.

When I was growing up, I could usually find my Mom in the kitchen or at her sewing machine. I didn't spend much time sewing with her - I've been known to staple and hot glue a costume together. But I did help out in the kitchen. See, I know how to cook - I've just been choosing not to. I got to brown the ground beef and stir things "until it gets thick". Mom made everything from scratch. Except one thing, and I'll get to that later.

I suppose she was cooking with an economical flair; all we knew was that it was delicious. We had meat loaf, tacos, Salisbury steaks, ground beef and gravy over mashed potatoes, sloppy joes, hamburgers, spaghetti and lasagna (that's not cheap!), lots and lots of casseroles.

Chicken was more expensive - and she bought whole chickens that she had to cut up. 2 breasts, 2 thighs, (watch the ads!) 2 legs and 2 wings - that would feed our family. I remember watching her take out the little bag of giblets and toss them in the garbage. My kids have never even seen anything except chicken breasts, boneless, skinless, and enhanced with 8% chicken broth.

She made oven-fried chicken. I liked the drumsticks. We ate the skin! Another chicken meal - and this was strictly Sunday dinner fare - was Chicken Divan. For this she bought chicken breasts. There was the broccoli, the chicken, the creamy, tangy sauce and a bright orange line of melted cheddar down the center. It was her best casserole. I asked for it every year for my birthday dinner.

Pot roast was another Sunday dinner, complete with potatoes, carrots and onions, cooked in a pressure cooker. Does anyone out there even have a pressure cooker? Do you know what it is? Occasionally we had pork chops. They were dredged in flour and pan-fried in oil. Bone-in, so we all gnawed and gnawed our way through dinner.

She took a community education class on Chinese cooking, bought a wok and made us stir frys and sweet and sour dishes.

Hot dogs, fish sticks, homemade pizza, stew, chili, homemade soups and tuna dishes. Oh, the tuna dishes!

I remember Hot Tuna Sandwiches. Basically, tuna salad with celery (no pickles) and chunks of Velveeta, tucked into a hot dog bun, wrapped in foil and heated in the oven. The creaminess, the slight crunch of the celery, the smell of the tuna...mmmmmm.

There was also Tuna Ala King with Cheesy Pinwheels. A white sauce (homemade!!) mixed with tuna and peas in the bottom of the 9x13 casserole dish. Then she rolled out homemade biscuit dough into a rectangle and sprinkled grated cheddar cheese all over it, rolled it up and sliced it, placed the pinwheels on the tuna gravy and baked it. I would have helped by grating the cheese. Most of my cheese is bought already grated.

Now the last tuna dish is the one thing that she didn't make entirely from scratch. Tuna Casserole. My Mom's tuna casserole was the bomb. And so simple - make up a box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, fold in a can of cream of mushroom soup and a can of tuna. Spread it out in a casserole dish, and if you really love the people you are cooking for, put some buttered breadcrumbs or some crushed potato chips on top and bake it until it's all nice and bubbly and crunchy on top. My whole family loved this dish and if I remember, so did Valerie, my college roommate.

Every meal had a side dish or two - potatoes or rice, rolls (from scratch, people!), canned corn or green beans, frozen peas, sliced apples or applesauce, fruit cocktail with coconut, and jello salads. I bet my Mom made a jello salad 3-4 times a week. And I'm not talking just mandarin oranges dumped in orange jello - there were layers, and Cool Whip toppings, and sliced strawberries and bananas, sometimes nuts.

We ate iceberg lettuce salads - with cut up tomatoes. We had Catalina and Italian dressing. Later, Ranch dressing became all the rage and she made it from a mix, using buttermilk.

She made cookies and cakes, rice krispy treats, peanut butter bars, fruit pies (!), and my favorite (served with my Chicken Divan birthday meal), Cherry-o Cream Cheese Pie. It's the graham cracker crust filled with the cream cheese, sweetened condensed milk and lemon juice mixture, topped with cherry pie filling.

Leftovers were for my Dad to take in his lunch to work - 'cause my Mom made his lunch every single day. I think she still does.

It was all from scratch. She didn't have a microwave. Vegetables and salads didn't come pre-cut or washed - she cut carrot sticks for us. She cut up chickens! She made her own granola and grated her own cheese. It was all homemade - have I said that enough? I am in awe when I think about her doing that 7 days a week. Occasionally she and my Dad would have a date night, and they'd go out, but for the most part, she cooked a big dinner every night of the week. I never heard her say she didn't have time, or she was too tired, or complain in any way.


I can picture the meals that we ate - the specific, rarely changing combinations of main dish, sides, even what color Jello salad went with each meal. I can see the Pyrex 9x13 pans, the square, white Corningware serving dishes, the white Corelle plates that we ate off of. We set the table with placemats and ate family style. We prayed before every meal.

Some things have changed since I was a little girl, helping my Mom in the kitchen. No more casseroles, except for lasagna and sometimes Chicken Divan. She buys boneless, skinless chicken breasts, and pork loin roasts instead of fatty, bony chops. Salads are made with romaine and have poppy seed dressings and dried cranberries and pecans. No tuna dishes, no hot dogs, fish sticks, or Jello salads. Ever. I bet my Mom made her last Jello salad over 20 years ago.

They eat grilled, lean meats, fresh fruits and vegetables. The homemade rolls are still on the table and so are the desserts. Everything is still from scratch, labor intensive and delicious. And I think they eat out at least once a week.

Thanks, Mom. Thanks for all the yumminess and the teaching and the time spent with me in the kitchen. I remember it being a very happy place - at least until it was time for me to complain about doing the dishes. Sorry about that. Thanks for letting me help. Thank you for your home-cooked love.

I need to do better in my own home, with my family. These memories are priceless.

Beef - It's What's For Dinner

I've been cooking ground beef all afternoon. 8 lbs. of 90/10. In a fit of "I've gotta make some changes around here", I'm trying to do better on what I feed my family for dinner. Enough with the cold cereal!





Troy's been gone in the evenings for so long and I've really gotten out of the habit of regularly cooking dinner for me and the boys. Like a really good, well balanced meal. Too often, I'm eating something that the boys won't touch, and they have been perfectly happy with cold cereal, scrambled eggs, fruit smoothies, pancakes (um..breakfast?), you know, fast and easy. They eat McDonald's or Wendy's at least once a week. Sometimes, I run water over frozen shrimp until it's thawed and we eat it with cocktail sauce and crackers. My Mother must be hanging her head and denying my existence.





And when I do have the time/energy/drive to cook something, what's in the freezer? Frozen blocks of ground beef. Yes, there's the microwave, but it still feels like dinner is a hour away. And Little Caesar's - 2 minutes, tops. A bowl of Life - 20 seconds.





We've gotta be fast - there's homework and reading and tennis and Young Women's and blogging and bedtime routines and of course, all the television to watch, now that the new fall season is starting. Yeah, I know I should start thinking about dinner a whole lot earlier in the day. Pull the meat out, stick something in the crockpot, but lately I just haven't been that organized. And I have stuff to do.





Well, all that changed today. I've got 8 pounds of cooked, ready to go, ground beef in the freezer downstairs. I can whip up spaghetti, sloppy joes, tacos, burritos, hamburger soups, you name it - I've got the ground beef for it. Next time, I'll take it step further and season the meat and label the bags! I've got my go-to meals for when I run out of time/energy/drive. I'm so excited!




We're having tacos tonight. If I can keep this up, maybe Cameron won't look like this:

What are you having for dinner tonight?

&

Do you have any go-to meals that your family enjoys?

A Little Manscaping

For the past few years, our family has been going to see Michelle for all our haircutting needs. She also does my coloring. She is fabulous, fun to talk to, and does an awesome job. I'm so glad we found her. The other day, I tagged along with Troy when he went over for a haircut.

This is how it went down:

Why did you bring the camera?

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Once Michelle took care of that hair...

We needed to address these.
Hello Eyebrows.

First, the area is cleaned with alcohol.

Smear on the wax.

Press the paper strip down.
1...2...

3.

Just a little, out of the middle.

The left eye is next.

Is this cool or what?

Now the right eyebrow.

Did you know that the right eyebrow always has more hair?

It's true.

And a tiny bit off the top.

There. Doesn't that look better?

There may be a little redness for a while.

Michelle said that she loves waxing eyebrows.

And I love watching it.

By the next day, he's all better. And he looks soooo good.
Makes me wanna get this close.

Lost and Found

It was barely starting to get light when I left the gym today. In the middle of the parking lot, there was a guy on his hands and knees looking down into a storm drain. He had a flashlight and an untwisted wire hanger, and he was moving the wire slightly up and down in between the metal grate. He was fishing for something.

"What are you looking for?", I asked. I'm friendly like that, even in the early morning.

"Keys." There was almost an air of "Duh" in his answer.

I didn't blame him for sounding a bit snippy. He was, after all, kneeling on asphalt, in shorts, at 6 o'clock in the morning. And his keys down a storm drain? Oh man, that's some seriously bad karma coming back to him.

I wished him luck and headed towards my car, but I couldn't stop thinking about the poor guy. What a rotten start to his day. On the other hand...this parking lot is huge. Shouldn't he have walked around the drain? I, for one, avoid going anywhere near storm drains. Not because I worry about dropping things down them, but because I know that this guy will be waiting for me.

First person that names the movie will get the Reader of the Week Award. And if you know the movie, I'll bet you don't go near storm drains either.

I don't recall ever losing my keys in a big way, but both Troy and I have lost our wedding rings and remarkably, got them back.

A few years ago at Bear Lake, we were swimming out to a big trampoline that was anchored out in about 10 feet of water. To climb on top, you had to hoist yourself up a ladder that was attached to the side. When Troy grabbed the ladder with his hands and stepped with his foot, the part of the ladder that he was holding onto mashed into the rubbery side of the trampoline. When he pulled his hands free, his wedding band slipped right off his finger and bloop, sank to the bottom .

Crud.

Thankfully, Bear Lake is remarkably clear. A bunch of us were on top of the trampoline, looking down, and we could actually see the ring lying there, nestled in the sand and glistening! So close - and yet, so far away.

This excited all the men to no end. Lord of the Rings was all the rage, and now we had, right in front of us, our own little quest for THE RING. They were all diving down, the spirit of Frodo swelling inside of them. Every time they got down to the sand and tried reaching for THE RING, the sand would swirl up and it would be lost. They'd swim back up, wait for the sand to settle and then dive down again. Most of the guys gave up after a few tries, swearing that it was really more like 15 feet down to the bottom.

In the end, our friend Jason was the retriever of THE RING. Thanks, Jason!

I lost my wedding and engagement rings in our backyard while gardening. That'll teach me to do yard work. I had gloves on and at some point took them off, taking my rings off with them, and dumping them out. Possibly even flinging them. Somewhere. In. The. Yard.

Double Crud.

I'd been all over the yard and in the flower beds, weeding. They could be anywhere. I looked and looked and never found them. When I told Troy, he ran out to a rental place, grabbed a metal detector and found them in minutes. It took him longer to drive there than to detect them. I had spent hours looking for them, a little sad, but still imagining the new rings that we would surely be buying before the day was through. Oh well.

I mean, thanks, Troy!

I kid, I kid. I loved my rings and I'm very glad that he found them.

Have you ever lost something very important or valuable? Did you find it?

Happy Anniversary Honey, or, Let's Take a Look at Some Changing Hairstyles and Fluctuating Weight

Today is my 19th wedding anniversary! WooHoo! To celebrate, I'm spending the whole day going through old pictures, scanning and then uploading them, and blogging about them. Troy's downstairs somewhere, doing something with the boys. It's togetherness like this that has made our marriage so good.

Our love story began in the spring of 1988. I was 19, Troy was 21. We fell in love and decided to get married, even though we were both earning just $4.50 per hour.

This is our engagement photo. I actually have a few pimples on my chin, but it was only 1988, and Photoshop didn't exist. Any guesses on how high my bangs are? Three inches? Four?


And then we were married. I was two weeks past my 20th birthday. My parents had told me that they wouldn't pay for a wedding if I got married before I was twenty.



I think I had a fresh perm. I loved my veil. Loved it.
If you look closely, you can see Troy's fake Swatch peeking out under his sleeve.



Maybe a year later, and we're both a little more roundish.
Troy is sporting a bit of a mullet and a Mr. Rogers sweater.
My dress was black velvet, and ...oh... I think it's still hanging in my closet.
The shoulder pads were so big, they couldn't fit them in the photograph.



This is one of my favorite pictures of us. Dang, we look good.
It was taken after our first diet as a married couple.
In a gesture to show his love and devotion to me, Troy started perming his hair.
And I liked the green v-neck sweater.
The white bow in my hair was also worn in the engagement shot.
You're going to go look now, aren't you?






Have mercy, look at those perms!
It took two scrunchies to hold the sides up.
Cream colored v-neck sweater for Troy.
Weight's back on.



This would have been late 1995 - the picture was taken to submit with our adoption papers. Troy's still perming and has added a beard. Sort of.
My curls are a bit softer, but still...
Jeffrey is the best thing in this picture, and he won the heart of Cameron's birthmom.



This is another favorite of mine.
It's shortly before we got Cam - I remember,
because this was how my hair was when he was a newborn.
Enough with the perms, Troy. Sheesh.
And I'd lost some weight.
I swear, I can date any picture by my hair or my weight.

This was 11 years ago.




Now we jump ahead nearly 8 years. 'Cause once the kids came, there are no pictures of just the two of us. Swear it. This was 3 years ago.



The perming years and high bangs have ended. Whew!

Enough said.

And here we are today, on our 19th anniversary.

Let's try that right next to each other. Wow.

There's been a lot of love and laughter, heartache and tears, immeasurable joy, gain and loss, and lots and lots of hair products. Mostly love.

I love you, Troy. Thanks for 19 wonderful years.

Aggression Soup

Last winter, also known as soup-making season, I bought one of these:

It is, hands down, my favorite kitchen tool.

It chops up veggies so fast and furious, I'm recommending it to everyone I know. There is a small amount of prep to get things in a choppable size chunk, but it is so worth it. The best part is slamming that lid down. You have to use a fair amount of force, and when you pair that with an "Uuuhhhh" or a "HiYahhh", it releases all kinds of stress and aggression. Sometimes the slam down chop is so powerful that my body is lifted in a triumphant little jump at the end.

It seems very sturdy and the blades are staying sharp. And for only $19.99, I wouldn't even mind if I had to replace it once a year. It is that much fun.

I pulled it out the other day, craving some soup and feeling the need to chop. Now this is not a recipe blog - I'm more of a throw-it-together kind of a gal. If I've got it on hand, it's going in the soup. I really just want to show what this little gadget can do.

Are you ready?

One gigantic onion, quartered.

4 chops, no tears. This thing was made for onions.

Couple of these.

Whoa. That's a whole lotta green pepper.

A handful of baby carrots.

They aren't super uniform, but they are the

perfect size of chunky.

Just a few stalks of celery.

Three slamming chops, that's all.

And there's the beginning of some beautiful soup.

Perfectly chopped, perfectly chunky.

And I am stress-free.

I turned this particular vat o' veggies into a Southwesterny-type soup. I added chicken broth, canned tomatoes with green chilies, corn niblets (don't settle for anything less!), black beans, taco seasoning, and cilantro. Lots of cilantro - I love that stuff. Love to say it, love to chop it (by hand, so I can really smell it), love to add it to my soup. And some salt, 'cause I love that too.

While all of that was simmering, I just had to turn my attention back to my chopper. Second only to the aggressive chopping action, I love to clean it when I'm done.

There's a handy tool made especially for that.

This will satisfy every tweezing, picking, pulling and

cleaning obsession you might have.

And then my soup was done and it was so delicious, I forgot to take a picture of it. Total anti-climactic ending, so it's a good thing this isn't a recipe blog. Trust me though, it was a beautiful soup. Made possible by the Vidalia Chop Wizard. I hope you all get one for the upcoming soup season.

What is your favorite kitchen tool?

Polyp Update

My gastroenterologist's office just called with the lab results for my one lone polyp. It's called (They named it! I didn't know I could name it. Sigh.) a tubular adenoma and it is the type of polyp that is considered precancerous. Tubular.

Note: It was NOT cancerous yet, it's just that it will become cancerous. Someday.

The lady said that since they took it out, I wouldn't need to go back for another 5 years - which was when I had to go back anyway, even if I'd never had my newly named little polyp.

"Um, I'm okay if you want to see me sooner than that."

"No, five years is fine."

"Maybe in a year?"

"Really, they took it out. You're fine. We'll see you in..."

"I just want to stay on top of it."

"Five years."

So I trust that they know more about this than I do, but still. What if I grow another one next year - it just gets to keep on growing for 4 more years, until I get another scope?

And sure, Dr. P. is the best at what he does, but...

Have you ever wiped off a table and left a few crumbs?

Vacuumed a room and missed a spot?

Switched the laundry over and left a sock in the washer?

Tweezed your eyebrows, only to have a brand new hair sprout up OVERNIGHT?

Yeah, me too.

Pretty sure I'm not going to wait the whole five years.

And here's my PSA again: Get a colonoscopy. It doesn't hurt, you get good drugs, and possibly Cafe Rio afterwards. Do it.

Sock It to Me

Cameron has his share of quirks too. The main things that we've had to deal with are the issues with clothing. If he had his way, he'd wear only his boxer briefs. The boy is hyper-sensitive to tags, sleeves, necklines, fabrics, and anything else you can imagine. The socks are the worst. We've been working with the sock problem for about 5 years now.

It all started in Kindergarten, after a summer of never wearing socks. When he put them on again, it was unbearable. The seams. THE SEAMS!! The way he carried on, you'd have thought they were stitched with barbed wire. And they were too puffy - they bunched up and hurt his feet. The drama, the tears, wailing and gnashing of teeth...life's too short for unhappy feet, so we fixed the problem by throwing money at it.

Seamless socks are a bit pricey.

At first I was buying them online, but later I found that Nordstroms carries them. The seam is hand linked and is virtually nonexistent. They are thin and packed with Lycra, so they cling to Cameron's feet like a second skin. He loves them. They are the only type of sock that he's worn for the past 5 1/2 years.

They run about $3 a pair.

When I see it there on my screen, that doesn't seem like much, but it really does add up. I might pay that much for my socks, but I'm not growing out of them and they can last me for years. And in comparison, I buy Aaron's socks by the dozen and it's only $5.

About a week and a half ago, I made my way to Nordstroms on a quest for more socks. I must point out that I have never purchased anything for myself there. For Cam, however, I bought 10 pairs of those seamless socks and paid $33 with tax.

He was thrilled. He kissed me and thanked me, cleaned out his sock drawer, tossing all the old and making room for his wonderful, new socks. He treats them like gold. He is very aware of how much they cost, as I have been known to make him aware.

Last night I looked down at his feet. His brand new socks were looking a little shabby. Grayish. Droopy even.

"Cameron, what's up with your socks? Are those your new ones?"

"Yeah. I threw all the old ones out. These are the same ones I wore last week and all this week. That's why they look kinda dirty."

"What do you mean? Why aren't you changing socks? I bought you ten pairs!" I totally resisted the urge to add "and paid $33 for them."

"I'm keeping them nice. I'm only wearing one at a time. I'll wear another pair when these are ruined. They'll last longer that way."

"Um, okay. But let me know if your feet start to itch."

And that's how my 10 year old boy thinks.

Third Grade Agony

Things just aren't fair around my house. Even though he's in 5th grade, Cameron very rarely has any homework other than reading, while third grader Aaron has a daily load that just about does him (and me) in. It turns a mood like this:

Into this:

It's Dr. Jekyll and Mr Aaron.

Aaron tackles his daily reading, math and language with minimal complaining. He's even worked on a book report without tears. But the handwriting practice; Oh. My. Heck.

All last year, Aaron got glowing remarks from his teachers in all areas except handwriting. It really was awful - I don't know if his fine motor skills are underdeveloped, or if it's just a lack of patience or laziness, but even for an 8 year old, his handwriting was atrocious. I didn't worry too much about it, after all, he was doing so well in every other area. And can't he just type everything for the rest of his life?

So now he's in third grade - the year of learning cursive. I thought his cursive would be pretty badly formed, but it is actually very good. He just doesn't believe me. Aaron is so determined that he can't do it, he will cry and grump and whine and take for-freaking-ever to do it. It's a miserable part of our day.

I have charts and rewards, bribes and threats, but so far, none of it matters. Aaron just doesn't want to practice his cursive, and as the past has taught us, if Aaron doesn't want to do something, it's gonna take every last parenting trick and diversion to get that something done.
Sometimes the whole family will get involved, tending to Aaron's fragile mood. I'm the ringmaster, orchestrating the event, Troy (if he's home) will offer encouragement and some occasional comic relief, and Cameron hangs out just in case the drama gets really good. It often does. Pencils have been thrown.

The latest trick I've pulled out is snapping pictures and taking video of the whole process. I don't know why, but it's helping. Aaron is working faster and with less complaining when I've got the camera pointed at him. I think he secretly enjoys the attention, and I'm just glad that things are moving along.

Check out the iron grip and ignore the dirty fingernails.

Tongue out, concentrating...

Troy's offering his own tongue of concentration.

This is a clip of Aaron tackling a couple of cursive letters.

In an ongoing effort to boost Aaron's confidence and self-esteem, I assure him that his handwriting is every bit as good as Cameron's. Better even.

I pointed the camera at Cam - just to catch his reaction. There's a second or two where he's not quite sure if we are kidding or not, and it's priceless.

Hearing Aaron laugh at the end is the sweetest sound ever. Homework is done!

What homework battles do you face?

Zac, Drugs, & Some Mid 90's Rock-n-Roll

Today was the colonoscopy. Troy and I both woke up early, laid in bed and let our thoughts wander through the upcoming day.

"Whatcha thinking about?" he asked, scratching my back. He knows I love having my back scratched - second only to having my feet tickled and rubbed. This morning though, my feet are clear down there and my back is much closer.

He's being sweet, wondering where my thoughts are going. Am I worried about what the scope will find? Am I nervous? How's my foot? Do I feel okay? Do I want a blessing?

"Cafe Rio. I want Cafe Rio afterwards."

That's what I woke up thinking about. Sure, I had to go to the hospital and have a scope up my hiney, but it the end (HA!) it's still about the food.

At 8am, I had to do another three doses of the laxative to finish prepping. That curbed my hunger - but left me feeling a little weak. By the time we got to the hospital, I was feeling kind of punchy - like when your brain is sleep deprived. Mine was food deprived.

We went into the waiting room and you'll never believe who was there...

Zac Efron!!! I have the BIGGEST CRUSH on him.

I can't even tell you how thrilled I was to have him there.

Into the gown and waiting. Zac came with me. He's supportive like that.

Can we take this magazine home? He makes me happy.

My nurse Annie gave me the absolute best IV I have ever had.

I thought she was just drawing blood, it hurt so little.



I have to watch.




This is Chris, the technician. He's much nicer than he looks - he was just wondering why Troy was taking his picture.

See that long, black thing hanging there? That's the scope.




And this is Doctor P. He's super nice, funny, and totally down with the blog thing.
He even had a few things to say:


"Tell everyone to make sure they have a doctor who will do a thorough scope. A little two minute look isn't good enough. This is important, so have it done right."


and


"Tell them that Hootie and the Blowfish was playing when we started."

He just wanted you to know.

Annie then pushed a syringe into my IV with the most magical of drug combos: Fentanyl and Versed. Dr. P. told me to roll over on my left side and then I swear he clapped his hands together and said something to Annie like "Let's do this!", as he kind of moved to the music. I was floating...floating (I love that feeling!)...and gone. I felt nothing, I remember nothing.

The whole thing took about 35 minutes.

Sweet, sweet drugs.

Oh, it's over?

Can't.........wake........

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. p.

I don't remember taking the gown off.

I'm thinking of something good...maybe my Cafe Rio pork salad?

Nope. I just wanted Zac back in my arms.

Tell me he isn't the cutest boy you've ever seen.

Oh, and this is the one polyp that Dr. P. found. He cut that bad boy outta there and sent it to the lab. He says not to worry.

We headed home and I napped for the rest of the afternoon. When I woke up...

Okay...THIS is the cutest MAN I've ever seen.

He is the one who really makes me happy.

It's true love.