Terrible Mom Alert!
TWO missed birthdays! The boy. Above. Oct. 13. He is 16. The girl. Below. Nov. 21. She is 15.
Thank you Outback Steakhouse for having large mirrors and flattering lighting in your bathrooms, men and women’s, so that both of my children could, separately, but at the same time, go into the bathrooms the night we were there and take pictures of themselves without the other one knowing. They both came back to the table and were very excited about the selfies they got in the excellent washroom photo studio they apparently have there. Also, it’s good because I have no actual pictures of them with their cakes and mini-party celebrations we had here at the house. If I find any pics later, I’ll just post them randomly and you can guess what they’re from. Kind of a “Where’s Waldo?” but with cake. At least I only missed the girl’s by 2 days. And we are going out for a collective dinner tonight. An expensive, collective dinner. We really spend way too much on food in this family unit. Plus we get to dress up! But I need to finish this now quick, so I can shower, shave, and shine. The BF is yelling because he doesn’t think we’ll be ready to go. He’s walking around confiscating cell phones and electronic devices. This is serious business. But first, quick quick: Old mom alert! The boy has a driver’s license now and a vehicle. That he paid for. And the girl will be starting driving school soon. Here’s a picture of the truck that he bought:
It’s good for both kids actually, because now he can drive them both to school. And anywhere else they need to go! One of the only sophomores with a license, a car, and a parking permit. I knew he’d be ahead of everyone else in his class at something! Alright, I’m seriously getting a side-eye from the time police over here, so I need to go. Happy (late-internet) birthday, Mason and Stevie! I love you! XOXO. Later!
Feed Me Seymour! Feed Me!
Now that might not seem very impressive all on its own, but it is, when you consider that it started like this:
We don’t even know where it came from. That is our “big stump” pile, this bit of nature is growing out of, from when that broken tree was removed so many months ago. I came out one day and there it was. A plant. We decided to leave it because it looked like an actual plant and not a weed. The neighbor behind us has a garden and this same plant is in it. We think zucchini, squash, pumpkin, you know, something like that. Big leaves. Yellow flowers. Super fast growth. Like, accelerated, sonic, creeping, crawling, curling over the branches, type of fast growing. We figured maybe a bird or squirrel or rabbit carried one of the seeds over to our area and poof. Now we have a garden too! Mind you, we have done nothing to this plant. Nothing. No water. No weeding. No maintenance whatsoever. My thought was, that if it really wants to survive, it will have to survive on its own. Survive and thrive. It’s definitely doing that. Every day the thing seems like it’s getting bigger and bigger. When I went out yesterday, my first thought was: Little Shop Of Horrors. Hence the title above. It’s actually kind of scary. Old time movie scary. One day I expect one of those leaves and one of those long, thick stems to be sitting outside the back door tapping on the screen, holding a dead animal. “I’m hungry, Seymour!” “I’m hungry, Lisa!” Damn nature, you scary! (Reference: Tracy Morgan–SNL) And how do you know my name?? OK. Well we have been waiting to see if anything else is gonna grow off this thing except some yellow flowers. This is a good one I took a picture of today:
And then I looked closer. I will admit, as crazy as this sounds, that I was somewhat hesitant to go sticking my hands and arms into the leaves because the plant seems so Jurassic and kind of menacing. But I did. Because I am a human being. A human who is way bigger than a plant and not in a horror movie, or completely “eccentric” or insane at this point in my life. And this is what I saw:
It looks like a squash! Actual food? Maybe? Should we eat it if it actually turns into a vegetable? Is squash a vegetable or a fruit? I don’t know. It’s pretty big I think already, but I have nothing to compare it to, except the other smaller one growing next to it.
So that was my morning. Now I have to go to work. I will keep everyone updated on this gripping tale of, “Growing Something In The Wild!” Ha. Wild. More like, “Growing Something Accidentally In A Suburban Backyard Stick Pile!” Now that, is scary! Later!
This Is Not The Way.
Sorry Doc. I guess I will have to start that diet next week. I haven’t had those delicious breakfast burritos in soooo long. With that spicy good Hot Picante sauce that the McDonald’s Corporation is being super stingy about handing out with their breakfast foods. Signs everywhere restricting the “sauces per order per item”. It’s so stupid. And even when you ask for more packets, AND are willing to pay for the extra sauces, they act like it’s a huge inconvenience, or that you are committing a crime against the purity of their food preparation. Where are these sauce packets that it takes so long, and three different people, to get? Are they stashed away in a secured vault with a time lock or some kind of multiple employee fingerprint/eyeball unlocking mechanism? Seriously they aren’t that good. This is the truth: Sometimes, even when I really really want McDonald’s, or the kids do, I’ll just skip it because I know what a pain in the ass it will be to get what I actually want. Plus the two stores closest to my house are terrible with service, speed, and getting the orders right. Even with the nuggets, the sauce is wrong or missing altogether, more times than not. Doesn’t McDonald’s have enough money without over doing the sauce thing? Its a sauce conspiracy! But I don’t want to have a whole post complaining. I mean, I did get it today. Spent my money. And ate all of it. And tonight the Charmin Corporation will be thanking me for using lots of their fine product. Gross Point Ending. Play on words. Later.
Update! The Meat!
This is the smoked meat result from the post a few days ago. I figured I would do this one first. Have the baby follow the meat. Although the meat following Memorial Day seemed wrong too. I think I solved the problem (Did I?) with a picture of a dandelion puff. This is only some of the meat. Much got eaten, apparently, while “pulling” it apart, and then more got eaten as a meal that night. When I got home at about midnight the same night, that entire dish was full. It was delicious! Perfect texture, great seasoning, flavor galore, and tender tender without being fatty or greasy. I ate enough. The BF made cole slaw too. And that was also delicious. And I am not really a fan of the coleslaw or even know how to make it. We are protein packed here for the week now. In case you were wondering poundage of meat—some do—I think the BF said it was 15 or so. Good thing it worked! Later.
Smokin’ In The Boys Room
And by “boys room”, I mean the outside. While I work this weekend, my BF has decided to do many manly things, like, work on his motorcycle, cut large tree limbs with a chainsaw, and smoke much meat. It sounds like so much fun I just wish I could have had these days off to be here for all of it. Ahem. No, really. (Not really). I like to spend my holiday weekends working and taking care of sick people and listening to their families tell me what a crap job I’m doing. It’s what I got into this profession for. That rewarding feeling of spending more hours with other people’s families instead of my own. Without sarcasm, I really do like my job. It’s just some families make it very difficult to keep calm. The patients are fine. It’s just the families sometimes. Still, I think it will be better than the manual labor that needs to be done here. Sweaty, with heavy lifting. Oh wait, that’s my job too. Ha. OK. Enough. That’s my work rant. Back to the meat!
Apparently this is stuff you need. Along with a starter tube thing that gets the coals going, a temp gauge, (actually two temp gauges, one for the cooker and one for the meat), water for steam, spices, herbs, liquids, “rubs”, side dishes, buns, etc…and of course: The Meat. This will all cost you approx. 90 dollars or so. If you had to buy your own smoker, that could be an extra 100-500 dollars, depending on quality and advanced smoking technology. Or something. This smoker in the picture was the gift the BF got for working so hard at his job for this many, past 15 years. It seems like it’s nice smoker machine. I have just been informed that the meat is at 162 degrees. The number we are looking for is 190 I believe. We are doing pulled pork as the maiden smoking. I keep typing “we”, but I literally have done NOTHING except take the pictures and type this. Soon, I will get dressed and leave, so I won’t even be here for the big finish. But, of course I have a preview. Please feast your eyes below on three hunks of pure animal flesh, cooking and smoking, slowly, and at a certain temperature, for maximum tenderness and pullability. It really smells good too:
Two on top, one below. That sounds like a good name for a band or a book title. The key to cooking this right, I am told, is slow and low. Also, coincidentally a good band name or book title. At any rate, what we want is to put it in our mouths and not even have to chew. The meat should literally pull apart and melt like butter on our palates and slide juicily and effortlessly down our throats to our waiting tummies without any pesky chewing involved. But usually it’s on a bun with sauce, so please, family, while I am gone, chew a little, please. Bread mostly needs to be chewed, somewhat, to break it down. Then swallow. No need to ruin a good weekend with “Heimlich’s” or “ambulances” or “hospitals” or “morgues”. Thank you.
Thus ends the meat post for today. I hear and smell lots of manly things going on in the neighborhood today, so I need to get the hell out of here! The outside temp is up to 75 degrees. Sunny and beautiful for the Midwest. The meat temp is at a cool 165. The BF is cutting sticks with the chainsaw. The boy/son is playing XBox in his room enjoying none of the outside weather. The daughter is still at my sissy’s house and will prob go from there to her cousins house to spend the night, after she stops here first to eat meat. She loves meat. Yes, I see what I typed there, but I’m leaving it. It’s too early (for me) to try and fix the innuendo. She’s 14 for cry-yi. Some girls are salads and try a vegetarian phase, not mine. She is steak all the way.
Let them eat meat! And don’t forget it’s Memorial Weekend. Hug a vet! Thank a soldier while you are grilling those hot dogs and drinking that beer! Even if you just send up a big toast and a cheer into the great unknown. It’s all good karma to the universe. Later.
I Call It: Warm Peach Pie Draped In Cool White Cream And Hot Black Coffee On Rainy Grey Day; With Spotted Chicken.
I also call it: Break Time. And: Too Much Time. And possibly: The Longest Title I Have Ever Created, That Includes 5 Different Thoughts AND A Weather Update; What A Cheap Way To Get In Even More Words.
I feel sometimes that this site may be confused for a weather center or outdoor enthusiast blogroll of some sort. I can’t seem to stop talking about the weather and the things outside in my yard alot of the time. Really, I can’t stop talking at all, most of the time. But this site is about more than just weather and birds, and flowers, and birds. It used to be about money and cars and benches and laundry too. And it shall be again. Truthfully though, it’s really about nothing. Just one life and what I do in it, with the people I am surrounded by, every day or every week (or month/months, as it’s been) and mostly for my own amusement. I do love the sound of my own words. And maybe you do too. Anyway, the simplest things can be the most satisfying things I never say. OK. I typed myself into a soft spot there. Let’s get back to the humdrum.
I did leave after that last post because my car was ready to be picked up and I need my car. The tire place was very nice and gave me a loaner car so I could come back home instead of sitting there for 4 hours, but it was like, the garbage car. The one that they have to brush wrappers and leaves off of when they need to drive it. Like, “Joe’s” car, the guy who gets lunch for everyone and picks up extra parts and crap when they need him to. And maybe gets into accidents or runs it into things when he parks. I don’t know. When I asked about the “car” I was getting, the guy says, “Oh yeah. Frank told me that. It’s a green Contour. Hold on, let me go see if I can find it.” Like, what?? This place is not that big. I mean, where could it have been? After I saw it, and drove it, I’m guessing it was parked behind a dumpster or in a hole. I will not complain though because it sounds bad and tacky and I really was glad to have it. I guess I am spoiled now with my “nice” car. More on that later. Of course I took pictures. I am just grateful for the fix. Finally and completely. I hope.
On another note, I did do several loads of laundry and folded them and put them away. That’s right. I said several. And folded. And put away. Well, mostly put away. The clothes are in their proper rooms and near the closets and drawers they belong in. That right there is the main roadblock to my laundry doing. I can throw clothes in and out of a washer and dryer like nobody’s business. It’s the folding and putting away part that I hate. And it’s been awhile since I had any control over the disgusting piles building up every day. I do my uniforms and whatever is right below my uniforms and that is all. I had to wear shorts and a really really old tshirt to bed last night because I have no pajamas to wear. At least none that I can find in any of these piles and piles, clean or dirty. They must all be at the very very bottom of these baskets. Good Lord. Anyway…the main point here is that they are NOT sitting in a giant crumpled wrinkled heap on the couch getting layed on and kicked and shoved into the cushions or pushed onto the floor anymore. These clothes have a chance now. A real fighting chance to look clean and smooth and presentable while being worn and walked around in. It’s a rainy day, tax day miracle.
FYI, true weather update, it is raining now. I was going to post outside with the laptop but now I can’t. So I ate peach pie and drank coffee instead while thinking about all these words I just layed down for you. Oh yeah. You are welcome. Let me go switch switch another laundry load quick quick and I will be right back. Yes. I know it’s not real time. Just having fun here. Later.
Oh Pardon Me, My Polish Seems To Be Showing
I cannot believe I almost missed Fat Tuesday. Or Paczki Day as some of us more ethnically challenged folks call it. This job stuff is really getting in the way of me being able to process any other information in the greater world outside of myself and my immediate life. I am living hour to hour and not the good hours. I sleep for most of the day hours and then if I work one extra day/night in my work week, I get all confused about if it’s Sunday or Monday. True story. I could not remember what day it was yesterday. Felt like Sunday, was actually Monday. And since the kids were off school, there was no normal week-day structure to help me out. And even though today is Tuesday, I was unable to drag my ass out of bed at 6am to get the kids up for school. Thank goodness the BF gets up at the same time. I was out out out. Plus…I have a burning chest cold or something that I probably got from one of my people coughing in my face. Didn’t know it was coming. Couldn’t get out of the way fast enough when it did. Gross I know, but it’s a hazard of the job. You just try not to think about it and realize that there are greater things that can kill you faster. But truthfully, the odds are in your favor that you’ll live.
Anyhow, besides being Fat Tuesday, it’s also my Mother’s Birthday.
Happy Birthday Rita!! Shout out to the lady that gave me life! Love and hugs and kisses!
Since I missed her actual family party, I thought I’d take her to breakfast this morning, but sadly, I slept right through anything that would be considered “morning”. Eleven-thirty is still technically before the afternoon. But it’s too late for breakfast. She is the one who reminded that today is Paczki Day when I called her to tease her with that free meal. I didn’t believe her until I looked at the calendar and saw that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. For me, time seems to be moving fast and slow at the same time these days. Irritating and confusing.
At any rate, I was able to shake off the sleepies, put on real clothes and venture forth into the world to get a big fat, fatty dinner to cook and buy myself some of the best Paczki’s I could find at the local Jewel. We ended up having spinach and artichoke dip with pasta and chicken and wine and our delicious, thick, doughy doughnuts for dessert. And we will probably eat them for breakfast tomorrow too. We aren’t really big on the religious aspect of the day, more so just the eating part. Sinners everywhere I tell ya. But we did manage to get the last package of chocolate covered ones with creme filling! We had to stalk the display table and stand watch from the produce section because another lady and her daughter had them in their hot little hands while talking on a cell phone to someone about how they had just gotten the last package of chocolate paczki’s, and did whoever they were talking to want them or not?? Apparently it was a no because I suddenly saw them both walk back out of the store through the in door and me and my daughter swooped in and snatched them up! It’s a dog eat dog world out there when it comes to donuts most people eat only once a year.
Of course I wanted to get this typed and posted on the actual day, but alas, it is not to be. Midnight, one am, is not too bad though, I guess. I’m still up anyway. I see many late nights to come in my very near future. I’m off today, or was off today, Tuesday, and I will be off tomorrow, on Wednesday. Then when I go in to work on Thursday afternoon, they are basically throwing me to the wolves. Solo. On my own. No more orientation. No more preceptor. Training day is over. It’s going to be me and my patients. And probably lots of overtime. When I do get to leave and go home, some time Thursday night, hopefully before midnight, (pleasepleaseplease let everything go good and smooth with no admissions pleasepleaseplease) then I get to go back on Friday and do it again. I’ve noticed after about 3 to 4 days I finally start remembering the people, their meds, their personal likes or dislikes, etcetera etcetera, and the job becomes a hair bit easier. Luckily I will have ALL my future days to learn the people. Then thankfully, blessedly, it will be my weekend off. Two days to re-coupe, re-boot, and return to the anxiety show. If I can make it here, truly, then I can make it anywhere. That’s what all the other nurses I encounter tell me and they seem to have a confidence in me that I may not have in myself just yet. Most everyone has been helpful. Some have been wary. Some aren’t talking much. And some are warming up to me more and more every day that I keep showing up. But nobody acts like they want me to fail. In 13 short days I feel like I may be a part of something bigger than just a “job”. Or it could be that I just haven’t quit. She’s scrappy, this one. Hardy har har.
So, in the end, wish me stable patients with normal labs and no emergencies. Wish me a steady and organized pace at which to work in. Wish me NO admissions until next week so I can at least have two days of solo time without any extra work to worry about messing up. Wish me good weather to drive through in those late nights when I finally do get to go home. And throw me just a small wish for a little luck to get me through the rest of it. It took a lot of school and a lot of sacrifice and time to get this, exactly what I wanted. That’s what my son said to me on Monday when I found out about my new solo status. I wanted to cry. But he said, “Isn’t this what you wanted mom? Isn’t this what you were going for? You should be happy!” You know it baby. I am happy. And I’m still scared too. But not nearly as much as I was. Yesterday was my final swimming lesson and in 2 days I’m going to jump in the deep end, both feet first, and as far out as I can go without a life preserver. Even if it takes me longer than the others, I know I can make it to the other side. And just in case that last bit of writing got to be a little too much “King of the World” or “I Believe I Can Fly” inspirational mushy mush, here’s a picture of those Paczki’s I talked about earlier, and really, the star of the entire posting day!
Mmmm…Donuts.
I Just Bought Myself A Valentine’s Day Present
Best doughnuts ever! And not because they taste good. The trick to the Krispy Kreme is heating them up just enough (10 seconds, maybe 15, depending on pre-heat temperature and condition) so that the entire doughnut can be compressed into a convenient, compact lump that will easily fit into your mouth all at one time, thus constituting one bite. I’ve already eaten two and my daughter has eaten one. This box will never make it to sundown much less all the way into next week.
What I really really have a massive craving for is the little Sausage Breakfast Burritos from McDonald’s with packs of that delicious Hot Picante sauce on every bite I take. But I have been far too lazy to drag my tired ass out of the house before 10 am to go get one. Or three. Krispy Kreme’s are always available for purchase at the local Jewel Food Store. And I can go at any time of the day. Still…those little tubes of tasty are calling me. I may have to break down and go in the morning. I’ve been really good with the food and sodium on my days of work, (10 total with 6 on the floor), and I don’t seem to eat enough to mess it up on my days off. Not because I’m really trying to eat less or even because I’m just so good like that. I’m pretty much hungry all the time now and my sleep/wake schedule is so off track, that I sleep for the hours I used to be awake and eating. I generally don’t eat when I first wake up and I don’t eat in the middle of the night. These days I feel like I am always “just waking up” and when I have an opportunity to get food, it’s the middle of the night. I almost, almost stopped at Taco Bell on my way home the other night, but I am not sure I can be a “midnight eater” and kind of afraid to find out if I could. Plus, I don’t want to risk the heartburn. And truthfully, it’s already 11 pm and the doughnuts are still here. Could this mean that I might actually be developing some kind of, healthy-diet-eating-plan for life?!? The kind where if you want something, you can have it, but in moderation. Have that donut. But only one. (Or two) I’ve heard of this phenomenon but never experienced it personally. Strange days are here. Strange days indeed. Most peculiar mama. Bet you didn’t think I’d end with that. And in a post about doughnuts. Night all.
Flush! Flush! Flush!
Talk about beating a theme into the ground. This has nothing to do with toilets and everything to do with the fact that I need to flush my entire bloodstream and all the cells in my salty body with as much water as possible in the next few hours. I just had Olive Garden for lunch (thanks Beth!!) and even though I tried to eat as “good” as possible, it’s not good enough. Or possible.
First off, I would just like to say: WTF?? Why is there a twenty minute wait on a Tuesday at lunchtime?? The food is not that great. Every time I have ever gone I have had to wait. Seriously people, there are better places to eat! It’s one of the reasons, actually the main reason, why I never go there anymore.
Second, the menu. Out of curiosity I checked their web site to look for nutrition info. Most places, no matter how bad, pretty much list it somewhere these days, even if you have to search 7 pages and 15 links to find it. And usually the word “nutrition” is in the smallest possible print, at the very bottom of the corporate mission statement page. But no, Olive Garden had it listed right across the top of their site. One click, pick your item and read the chart. I guess they figure you already know what you’re getting into so here’s the ugly truth without a lot of fanfare and hoop jumping. Anyway, I was fine on the calories. I figured it would be medium to large damage to the daily intake. And I am pretty good at guess-timating the calorie counts these days. However, I completely and totally, utterly underestimated the sodium content of every single thing. Now I don’t believe for even one minute that Olive Garden has a team of Tuscan chefs in the kitchen cooking us up authentic Italian cuisine from the old country. But I didn’t realize how much preservative must be in those bags of entree’s to keep them fresh and microwave ready. Here’s the break down:
Garden salad (one serving) with the dressing: 290 calories. Ok. Not the worst. Sodium: 1530 mg. What??? One thousand, five hundred, thirty mg’s!!?? Seriously?? For lettuce?? That dressing packs a hell of a punch.
One breadstick: 150 calories. Cool, I estimated 200, plus 200 for the sodiums. Ha. Try 400 mg’s. Thank goodness I only ate one. We had marinara dipping sauce too. That was 70 calories and another 400 sodiums. I literally touched the bread to the sauce without scooping so I think I am fairly safe there. I maybe only ate, like, 200 mg’s.
Chicken Scampi, lunch portion (luckily): 740 calories and another whopping 1350 on the sodiums. Must be those peppers bringing the totals down. Thankfully, again, I didn’t eat all of it, but Jimminy Cricket, that’s about enough for today and tomorrow.
I also ate the Andes Mint they give you at check time. Not counting it at all. And at this point today, it doesn’t really matter.I know the internet always talks about dining out and the hidden dangers to your nutritional sound diet, but I never thought it would be relevant to me. Poop. (Ha. Did NOT even plan that.)
Alright that’s enough about that. I bet you didn’t think you’d be reading 500 words of my daily food journal. If you are still reading that is. Again, thanks for sticking to the end. Maybe you learned something. Or maybe you are shaking your head, muttering, “Dumbass. No wonder you have high blood pressure idiot. Why do I waste my time with this site??” Well, shake it off. It’s over now. Lesson learned. The food was still good. The company was even better! Good friends ya know?? I can risk a sodium stroke for one afternoon to hang out with one of my peeps. Next time we’ll try something else. And I’ll be sure to write it all here for you.
I need to go and fill up my water bottle. Got a 600 ml container that I need to drink about 2 more of. Maybe even three. I’m taking my son for some knee pads. He made the volleyball team!! So proud. So happy. And they are working his butt off with the practices. He will be a string bean by summer! A long tall drink of water like he’s always wanted to be. I’ll post pics if he lets me. Then I’m heading to Jewel for that good bread. (Hope I can snag at least one little loaf) Then home. Now this is turning into a laundry list, also something I need to finish. I think my descriptive phrases have been aging me lately. The bee’s knees. The cat’s pajamas. OPP. Click the letters if you want to read that little gem. I sound like an old lady. That reality truck hits too hard. I may post again later, but I may not. Tomorrow is an actual leave-the-house-and-join-the-world day. More good news to come. It’s still 55 degrees but getting grey and ready to rain. Have a great evening! Later.
just shy of pretty 