So what would you do with a king size mattress box? My kids would love turning it into something. I would love what was inside the box: the bed. We need a new bed so badly. So it's great that Mommy Mandy has one up for grabs!
With the new year upon us, I feel compelled to make new year's resolutions--it's something I can remember my grandma and I doing while she let me type on the typewriter (how quaint!).
But since I never stick to resolutions, rather I'm making a little list of goals that I would like to accomplish in 2010...
1. Make tortillas--well and with great alacrity (trivia: "alacrity" is Ziggy's favorite word)
2. Finish my crazy quilt of clothes and stuff from our past
3. Finish Goose's baby book
4. Make a baby book for Monkey
5. Run a mile without walking, and do it often
6. Get the kids into more of a routine with school, exercise, music, art, stories, experiments, etc.
7. Brush Ludo's teeth at least every Tuesday and Friday
8. Go car-less one day a week
9. Learn to shoot a free-throw, and make at least three of ten (I shudder to think of the hours upon hours logged of trying this with Ziggy, whose goal was a minimum of 9/10--end on a make!)
More fun could not have been had last week and now...
Now Ziggy's back at work. I have to make food for us to eat again. Now we go for walks that are "boring".
Me: Look Goose, the trees are just like around Pooh's house at Disneyland. Goose: Then where's Tigger?
Where indeed? I need to muster up some New Year excitement or something so that I can get over this post-Disney, post-present-giving, post-family non-magical feeling aka letdown.
Funnily enough Ziggy's dad warned us this would happen after our wedding. This letdown feeling. We never felt it. I get it now, though.
It's not really a surprise that for a special occasion Ziggy will write a poem for me. He writes great poems--ones that end overly sentimental, but that are cut with inside jokes and heavy on sarcasm, just like we are. So the most surprising gift was that he wrote one for me when I had my wisdom teeth pulled. He was still at school while I was at my parents' house when I got an email from him. I remember that despite the Vicodin (which is terrible stuff and I have refused since then because it does nothing for me but make me loopy) I was moved to tears.
It occurs to me now that I have no copy of that poem. My brother has it on his wall, but I don't. Hmmm...
How about I share this one with you? (It's from 2006) Mother's Day Goose once told me that she had a great mom So I looked at the facts and found she wasn't wrong.
When Goose was born, her mom was so happy she cried and cried and so did her Papi
Goose's mom did everything that should have been done: she worried and nurtured and slept close to none.
Goose's mom is so awesome--you can't say it isn't true, Or Goose will kick you in the nuts and her Daddy will too.
We arrived at the hospital 46.43 weeks ago today. We parked and walked in--we knew that day was the day.
Looking back to what lead to that wonderful time, I remember amazing things like having Togos on my mind.
Or remembering the things that I had to do, Like rubbing Goose's mom's hobbit feet for an hour or two.
Goose's mom is so cool when she dances and sings to songs on her iPod that Daddy thinks stinks.
Goose's mom remembers when she saw Gooes for the first time, She knew Goose was beautiful and smart even if the ultrasound only showed a spine.
Goose can remember seeing her new room from the hall And the best part to her was that there were no damn lily pads on the wall!
So on your first Mother's Day Goose and Daddy want to say You're not only a great mommy, you're the Best day after day after day!
SO that's how Ziggy rolls. And while I have received many wonderful gifts from many wonderful people in my life, those are the best, most surprising.
TwitterMoms is having a contest meme about what was your most surprising gift and the winner gets a Target gift card! Yay! Projects!
I'm not dangling Monkey over a ledge or pressuring Goose to be a major pageant diva, and yet, it's still not likely that I'll be nominated for Mother of the Year.
Why?
Well, let's just say I may have dragged Goose and Monkey onto certain rides at Disneyland that were beyond their maturity levels...
Ok, so the Haunted Mansion may have made them scream and cry, but you couldn't even hear Monkey once the music was going...
And sure, Hopper in A Bug's World may have tried to "annihilate" us while in our seats, but doesn't my reassurance that we're immune to bug poison count for something?
And Pirates of the Carribean really does have lots of interesting animals to see, so it wasn't wrong that I sold it was being something of a zoo ride.
For Goose and Monkey, I'm sorry if I emotionally scarred you. But if it's any consolation, Daddy and I had a great time!
(ok, they did cry, but calmed down after some reassurance. Except in a Bug's World, don't take your kids there unless they're budding masochists!)
Ok, so it's unlikely that Ziggy is actually reading this, but if I force him to, amaybe he;ll get the oh-so-subtle hint that we need a new bed?
Our poor Cal. King is older than we are and to make it to our house was folded in half and stuffed into his camper from his parents' house. That's right. The same bed that was a trampoline for Ziggy growing up, now resides in our bedroom--no wonder it sleeps like a hammock!
These beds look wonderful in part because of the high coil count and wonderful options like ultra plus or cushion firm.Pus a king would be close enough to fitting my super-tall Ziggy, who has to sleep in a fetal position no matter what bed he's on!
Sure, you've gotten us to Portland. You've gotten us here to San Diego. You could get us to Tiajuana if I had a passport...
But you are the reason I am now donating all Christmas funds into teleportation research. You, and my screaming children, and whining husband!
You're boring and long and foggy. And you call yourself an Interstate...
But we're here now and it's been wonderful thusfar. We went to the San Diego Zoo yesterday and the mouse is drawing nearer. We are so excited and the bleary eyed Goose and Monkey are stellar now that we're out of the car.
We did venture another car yesterday, however. A car my dad would dream of (though to me, it's just a car, like all cars.)
Since Ziggy's Oma passed away I've been waxing nostalgic and also craving more family history.
My mom's family is from Cornwall. They were miners and settled in Northern CA to work the mines.
So to combine the homage to family history and the fact that many of my memories are linked to food, I decided to give Pasties (or "oggies" if your from the motherland) a try.
What are Pasties you ask?
Delicious bites of heaven, let me tell you.
First of all, they're not "pasty-s" those are for your girly parts; they're "past-ees" and they are pie crust wrapped around just about anything that isn't saucy, though I've heard jam ones used to be quite common long ago.
There's this passage from a book in the 19th century that mentions devil stories told by the natives of Cornwall:
The devil never came into Cornwall.
[...]he could not but observe that everything, vegetable or animal, was put by the Cornish people into a pie.
He saw, and heard of, fishy pie, star-gazy pie, conger pie, and indeed pies of all the fishes in the sea. Of Parsley pie and herby pie, of lamey pie, and piggy pie and pies without number. Therefore, fearing they might take a fancy to "devily pie" he took himself back again into Devonshire.
Traditionally they have suet in them, and since that's disgusting I opt for chicken, though Ziggy really wants a sausage version which I'll be attempting for Christmas.
So here's our recipe.
For the crust: Take 3 cups of flour and about six cubed tablespoons of butter and mix then add 1 tablespoon of cold water at a time until the mix crumbles into pea sized bits. Stop mixing and knead with hand into a ball. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Roll out dough with floured pin until 1/4" thick
For filling: Comine Two chopped potatoes Two chopped carrots One chopped Turnip One tsp. dried parsley Half onion chopped (whatever is your favorite kind) One pound chopped chicken
Place half a cup to one cup of filling on the dough and fold dough over crimp ends together, cut slit(s) in top of dough to vent, and then repeat.
Bake in 350 degree oven for 30 minutes then add a bit of butter into the slit and continue to bake 30 minutes longer.
Voila! Delicious, personal pasties, ready for a good slathering of catsup!
Here's the facts: -Yesterday Goose and I made the candies for her cookie exchange at school. -While chopping something completely unrelated to the candies I cut my thumb sort of deep.
Here's the results: -Goose flipped out at the sight of the blood and wouldn't let me come near her for a good hour. (Though after watching the "sort of scary" Night at the Museum 2, she let me cuddle with her, just with my thumb away).
-My friend attempted to subtly put our candies in the pile I know to be her garbage pile after Goose told her why I was wearing a band aid.
-I'm now freaked out that I should go out and buy something from the grocery store for fear of Goose pointing out my small injury to her classmates and their families tomorrow (when the exchange is going down) and then saying something like "and my mom has AIDS" but meaning band aids, because she says things weird to make herself sound like she can speak another language. This affect plays out in my mind with stake burning, the CDC and vomitoriums being called upon.
-Ziggy and I got in a fight because he said he shouldn't be expected to care much since I injure myself on a daily basis. I pointed out that it wasn't true. He pointed to my skinned knee from the day before when I fell down the stairs.
-Having smacked him in the back of the head, I now vent here. You'd eat the candy right?
I'm still shocked everytime I get on the internet and read blogs by how small it makes the world. Everyone can interact and we're all on the same playing field no matter who we are, where we are, or how little and insignificant we may feel.
It's even more amazing when all those people come together for support.
While I don't know Shellie or her family, I'm crying for her. Our thoughts are with her family as they try to figure out how to reconcile with what has happened to their baby boy, Bryson.
I'm extremely tempted to end things there, but that would be too much like my brother and not a very good apology.
I'm sorry I called you fat. I'm sorry I didn't think you should be Rosalie in Twilight and while I may have said you were better off playing a lunchlady or someone picking up garbage in the movie, I really didn't mean it. Sorry.
I watched your movie on Tuesday and I can't get it out of my head. I don't know how much of Thirteen is actually based on your life, but whatever it is--I'm sorry. And any tips that you have for ensuring my kid doesn't end up whoring, stealing, mutilating herself, moving out, and generally doing bad at age 13 (or ever, really) would be greatly appreciated.
Oh, and did I mention I thought you looked much better in New Moon?
I'm not a Republican (and this is not a political post--really).
And while I liked the McCain that was willing to be interviewed by Steve Carrell on his tour bus way back before I could even vote, I never voted for him in the last election.
And even though I'm the black sheep in a family of Republicans, apparently, it isn't catching...
I write this as your friend. I know that you like to shop, that it is especially fun when the kids aren't there, and you're at Target--late when there are very few people there. But no more.
I'm tired of watching you make a fool of yourself.
I get that you use coupons to save money and that may cause huge lines at the checkout. I've seen you be socially awkward around other people. But when you put the holidays in the mix, you are an unstoppable force. Please don't subject people to it.
People don't want to hear you ranting aloud that Target is evil because all of the Hanukkah stuff is clearanced with the exception of the thing you want most...chocolate coins.
Check yourself before you do anyone any favors. Don't see a woman with her bra-clad breast exposed and then shout at her down the aisle. Don't freeze when she turns and looks at you as you realize that she's just dressed like a skank despite the pouring rain. Then don't turn to run away and plow into someone shopping for cake mix.
Don't promise to buy gum for everyone in line for causing a hold up with your coupons and then make the line take even longer because there's idiots that want more than one pack or want something from the other side of the store.
This band's Hanukkah Rocks album is great. Goose loves "Gelt Melts" probably mostly because I promised her a whole bag of gelt to get her a bit excited about Hanukkah and distract her from screaming "Rudolph" in the middle of stores or in friends' faces...
I think generally when people think of California they think of the beaches, but we have the Sierras too. However we live in the valley separating the two, so here's what we get for snow.
(The "snowgirl" is about eight inches tall but she stuck around all day!)
Twas three days before Hanukkah and all through the house The children were screaming not one was a louse. The Christmas decor was strung all around And broken bits of penguin still littered the ground. But the two Ziggy children were soon settled As promises of who could be quiet the longest would win the gold medal...
And that's how I was able to write this post for the wonderful SITSmas going on!
Your life was more interesting than anyone will ever know.
Thank you for sharing some of your stories with me, and for keeping the ones that might scare us for your own.
Thank you for not calling my kids stupid idiots.
In fact, thank you for loving my kids so much you didn't care if one threw up all over your shirt. For always trying to keep Goose entertained with little things you had, for having crackers out whenever we were over, for being the most considerate uber-Oma ever, I am eternally grateful.
Every episode I watch has some exact lines from my life happening. The most recent one we pulled up in the DVR had two kids sitting and playing while the parents looked on in bewilderment, "what are they doing? Why aren't they hurting each other?" the dad (Phil) asks.
"I don't know but I'm scared to move" replies mom, Claire.
Then I thought Ziggy was going to choke to death while watching the clown episode.
This is a very well put together show with an outstanding ensemble cast and fun talking heads. It's toned down zany-ness of Arrested Development meets mockumentary style. I did wonder, though, not having seen all the episodes myself, what the exact premise was. Will it be like the Office the BBC version and characters will get to watch themselves on tv, or will it be like NBC's Office and the characters will continue to log interviews without ever seeing any footage? Anyone? Anyone?
So if you're not watching it, get on it! I don't want to waste my time with another Wonderfalls or Pushing Daisies, oh Lee Pace where have you gone?
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