Tuesday, March 29, 2011

R.I.P., Mrs. Latrodectus


I hope the octo-legged widow who thought she could share the bathtub with me today is very content now that she is in a "much better place" and reunited with her eternal companion once more. I didn't take the time for polite and/or idle chit-chat so I'm not 100 percent positive that she was actually a widow, but she sure had that widow-ish look about her when I scooped, dumped, flushed and offered a little prayer over her porcelain grave. And, if she really was the type of widow I suspect she was, she was never really separated from her eternal companion in the first place because she undoubtedly consumed her sweetheart in two quick bites and a lick, thus keeping him with her always.

Mmmm. So sweet.

And, sentimental me? I say, happy trails to you and yours! Don't let the door hit you on your way out!




Here is a photo of the Widow Latrodectus in her glory days. I think I caught her given name as Annabelle Something-or-other. Annabelle L-l-l-l . . . . Oh, yeah, I remember. It was Annabelle Lecter. I think she's some sort of relation to Anthony Hopkins perhaps?

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Just What the Doctor Ordered! No Credit Card Needed!

Just on a whim, Ashley texted me this beyond adorable picture of little Kimball with the message, "A little ray of sunshine for you!" attached to the picture. So, so, so cute! Couldn't you just eat him up?!




So, what I'd like to know is, when did Ashley get to be so psychic? How and when did she get the ability to divine that this was exactly what I needed after I saw this completely devastating and disheartening view (see completely devastating and disheartening view below) out my back window which happens to be 727.4 miles away from her? Psychic.

She's gifted, I tell you! I'm going to start calling her, "Ashley: The Mom Whisperer." TLC and/or Bravo will, no doubt, be wining and dining her any day now. Hold out for the big bucks, Ash!

And, thanks, Little Red! You really are a ray of sunshine who has saved me from having to resort to my usual method of coping in this foul and generally poopy weather, which method is never a ray of sunshine when that credit card bill comes around revealing the aftermath of my coping therapy. Therapy? As in, retail. As in, INTERNET SHOPPING. As in, I have my credit card number memorized for pete's sake! And the expiration date too! And the three-digit code on the back! That kind of therapy. Oooh. That's so bad. Kimball could hire himself out as "a little ray of sunshine" and save some folks a lot of moolah. And, I'll be happy to write his first testimonial!

Kimball, you are my hero!

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Proud as a Peacock!

This kid is something special, I'm telling you. I'm busting my buttons over here with overwhelming feelings of pride and admiration and outright adoration!

Although Christian didn't win the State Sterling Scholar, I could not hold him in higher esteem nor could I be more proud of that boy of mine. His integrity, his unwavering standards, his kindness, his goodness, his desire to always be in the best places with the best people, doing the best things are only a fraction of what makes Christian so incredibly outstanding and so extraordinary.

Did I already mention how much I love him? So much it makes my heart skip a beat. So much that I cry. A lot. So much that I want to shout it out loud to everybody, including the UPS guy (it kind of scares him when I do that, I think). So much that I find myself in a state of constant silent prayer of thanks for this exceptional guy of mine. Same thing goes for my entire family, for that matter.

"Behind every success is effort.
Behind every effort is passion.
Behind every passion is someone
with the courage to try."

That pretty much sums up Christian's fearless attitude about daring to try, daring to fail, and daring to succeed. I hope that someday I could be even a smidgeon like him.
Way to go, Christian!!!




Programming Note: Christian did not wear a lavender colored shirt to the awards. My camera likes to mess with me a lot, and it turned his lovely blue shirt into an odd shade of heliotrope. (Go look it up. Okay, I'll do it for you. Heliotrope means purple. Betcha thought it meant some kind of water amoeba, didn't you. Right? Admit it. You did, didn't you. Okay. I guess that was just airhead me.)

Monday, March 21, 2011

St. Patrick's Day Redux




Darn that Daniel Quinn. Ah, well. What can you do. So, here we go, second verse, same as the first . . .



Unfortunately, Christian was especially late getting out of bed on St. Patrick's day. This mess o'Charmin did not help matters. At all.




It's the ol' cereal switcheroo inside the boxes.



"Daniel Quinn was here!" {Scary smiley face}









To help nourish us after cleaning up after that heap o'mess left by That Darn Daniel Quinn (that's his full name now--That Darn Daniel Quinn, no longer simply Daniel Quinn--I just made that decision, right here, right now; hope he likes it), I made this fancy schmancy bread roll-up thingy (look down yonder for pics and the recipe). I thought it was an appropriate recipe to make after cleaning up that heap o'mess left by That Darn Daniel Quinn because, after all, it does contain green. And, we're all about going for the green during the season of That Darn Daniel Quinn. Just ask the Tupperware containers in the back of my refrigerator. I've got that green thing covered, AND HOW!

Hey? Just an FYI for anyone who may have the pleasure of dining at our home: You may want to put 1-800-222-1222* on your speed dial. Why? Because I'm a thoughtful hostess. And I care. About you. And your health. And avoiding a potential lawsuit.

*Utah Poison Control Center



Leprechaun Log
(Just made that up! I know! Dud.)

12 frozen rolls, thawed and risen
10 oz. frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed-to-its-last-breath dry
1 cup Monterey jJack cheese (I used mozzarella, don't hate me)
1 egg, beaten
1/3 cup finely chopped onion
1 tablespoon butter, melted
2-3 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Spray counter top lightly with non-stick cooking spray. Combine rolls together and roll into a 10x14-inch rectangle. In a bowl, combine spinach, Monterey Jack cheese, egg and onion. Spread spinach mixture over dough to within 1/2-inch of edges. Roll up jelly-roll style, starting with a long side. Place seam side down on a large, sprayed baking sheet. Brush with butter and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise 30-45 minutes. Remove wrap and bake at 350°F 30-35 minutes or until golden brown.














Monday, March 14, 2011

Quoth the Raven . . .

Have you ever noticed that "Eyeore" sorta, kinda rhymes with "Lenore" and "nevermore?" Just an interesting little non sequitur to liven up your day. (If you think I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer, well, . . . you got that right, mister. Go here for a bit of clarity if you're feeling up to the task. I know! It is a ton of work to try to understand my thought processes. Please don't stone me. That would hurt a bunch, I think.)

Oh, and for you literary types, there's this:

Gotta love the tail on the wall.

And, you can scare the pants off yourself and feel cultured at the same time with this. Or, you can undo all of that culture schmulture stuff with this. Whatever floats your boat, darlin'. But personally, I much prefer THIS. Now, you're talkin'.




Thursday, March 10, 2011

Don't Breathe This!

If you've been paying attention, boys and girls, you need to know that you have witnessed a miracle! Or, as I like to say, a mur-a-kull. (Thank ya-uuuuuuh. Thankyaverymuch.)

Remember a while ago, back before Charlie Sheen started "WINNING!"--way back when I brought you to your knees in tears of sheer boredom by blah blah-ing here about the fact that I didn't kill anything? Like yeast? It's true! I didn't kill the yeast while making my bread! But better still, and get this--I didn't kill any of us! We're still alive! We ate that bread and did! not! die! Praise the heavens and sing hallelujah! Nunny nunny boo boo! We didn't die-eye! We didn't die-eye! That is such a load off of my mind, I just gotta tell ya, the fact that I didn't kill any of us. Oh, the relief. Whew.

So! Speaking of my Blendtec (and, yes we were, just so you know), do you happen to remember this? (Go look.) Bic lighters, X Box360, vuvuzelas, you name it, these Blendtec guys have tried to blend it. I never imagined way back when I wrote that post (did you go look?) that I would be conducting "Will It Blend?" experiments of my very own. But here I am, gathering up wheat kernels, ice cubes, bananas, strawberries, active credit cards (say what? DAAAAAAAVE! Dave! Did you sneak my credit card into the Blendtec again?), etc., and blending a-go-go until my family eventually screams for the madness to just stop.

For a spectacular display, I'm thinking of throwing our leather sofa into my Blendtec just to see if it will blend. Any other suggestions? I'm game for anything. Just don't tell Dave. He's such a fussbudget when it comes to having to replace pieces of furniture and such. Boo. :(


And now for some classy, high-brow entertainment wherein the Blendtec dude blends an iPad! So cool!




Actually, I think I've got somebody (ahem) runnin' scared. Truth be told, I am feeling pretty giddy and reckless about my new toy kitchen accessory and all that it can do. For some reason or another, Christian seems to be a little wigged out about me and my Blendtec. Weird. Hey! Did he happen to tell you about his favorite Christmas gift? Wonder if he'd let me borrow it, just for a sec . . .


Monday, March 07, 2011

So, That Leads Us to This:




I'm going to put you on the spot and ask if you watched the video in my last post. Remember? The video I raved about, gushed over, swooned to, and basically bared my soul to the whole world about? Yeah. That one. Did you watch it? Wait! Don't tell me. I don't want to be crushed just in case you didn't. I'm going to live in that alternative universe in my head (just like Charlie Sheen {he has Adonis DNA, apparently}), and pretend that every single one of you watched and listened to that bit of heaven. And you loved it, didn't you. I'm going to go to that special place in my head and totally assume that your answer is a big fat, "yeah, baby!!!" I'm putting my fingers in my ears and singing, "la la la la la la, I can't hear you! la la la la . . . " because I have a feeling most of you didn't watch.

Boo. You didn't watch, did you. :(

But! A big shout out to those very few who did! Just so ya know, you guys basically saved me from turning into Charlie Sheen (he also has tiger blood, apparently). One never knows what life may be rescued from turning into Charlie Sheen by another's kind and simple act of watching and listening to a lengthy and stuffy performance of "Danzon No. 2" by the Simon Bolivar Orchestra conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. You just never know. And, I thank you. All two of you.

The rest of you? Well, go watch the dingdarn video!!!

Are we good to go now? Okay, dokey!

So, to add to the coolness factor of this whole romp, just a couple of weeks ago . . .






this guy . . .






played that exact same fabuloso masterpiece (you didn't watch it, did you {sad face}) . . .





here.
Sigh. Heaven help me.






2011 All-State Orchestra



Wednesday, March 02, 2011

Music Crush

You've heard of a "man crush," right? It's when a guy thinks another guy is super-duper cool and kind of wishes he could be that guy for a day or two. I hear that a lot of guys have a man crush on Jimmer right now. And Tom Brady. And, Woody Allen. Wait. That can't be right, can it? Woody Allen? Pause, pause. Ponder, ponder. Now I'm all confused. Anywho! If I were a guy, I would totally have a man crush on Johnny Depp. Stop. I do have a man crush on Johnny Depp, and I'm not even a man. Huh. Go work that one out with your psychoanalyst and get back with me when you've got it all figured out.

Besides my man crush on Johnny Depp (oh, hi Dave! didn't see you there), I have a new music crush. Let me tell you, sister! I am in full gallop in LOVE with this particular piece of music. To the musically snobbish (read: Classical 89.1 listeners), I'm sure it is like cotton candy--all fluff and sugary and oh so contemporary, but I don't care. I love it. I LOVE IT!!! This piece sits very close to the top of my heap of classical favorites, very, very close to the top, almost sitting atop of and rubbing shoulders with my bawl-your-eyes-out Scheherazade (nothing is better than that). And I'd bet my copy of The Pirates of the Caribbean (hey, Johnny!) that those Classical 89.1 listers would not sniff their noses at my Scheherazade. Just sayin' that this is that good. To me.

Quick, like a bunny, run and get yourself a nice hot cup of Pero or whatever it is ya'll are drinking these days, and settle in to watch and listen to this. (I know it is a time investment, but SO worth those ten minutes that you would otherwise be using to watch that ridiculous "The Bachelor" skankiness.) So, hang in there with it; I always think my head is going to explode at about the 8:47 mark when things really get ripping in preparation for the big finish. You are crazy not to adore this piece. But you must listen AND watch. The passion these performers put into their work is half of the enticement and lure (and dare I say, the sexiness, whoa!) of it. So watch it.

And now, please enjoy Gustavo Dudamel and the Simon Bolivar Orchestra performing "Danzon No. 2" by Arturo Marquez:



Tell me you did not love that. I dare you. Seriously. I am in love.