Mr. Birthday Boy Gets His Just Desserts

Here is something to really drool over--one of

Mr. Birthday Boy's most fave desserts! This ooey, gooey mess of a thing is basically one ginorm chocolate chip cookie except with a lot less flour and a lot more b-u-t-t-e-r. Come on over for a slice or two, although you may have to wrastle for it with Mr. Birthday Boy.

Toll House Pie

Yay for pre-made, store-bought crusts!

Beat eggs until frothy. (Don't you love saying that word, "frothy"?)

Only a smideon of flour gets to join the party.

Good stuff comin' down the pike--SUGAR!

More SUGAR!

And now for the butter.

Did I mention there would be butter?

Oh. And there's lots and lots of butter,

just in case you were sleeping through that part.

Chocolate. Enough said there.

Pop the pie into the oven for one hour.

Meanwhile, go do some online shopping for cute Steve Madden shoes.

Serve it up with some cookie dough ice cream. Or is it too matchy-matchy to serve cookie dough pie with cookie dough ice cream? Sorta like wearing a vintage fabric headband with a matching vintage ruffled blouse with a matching vintage purse that has an enormous vintage fabric flower slapped on the side of it? Yeah, that kind of matchy-matchy. Oh well. Go for the matchy-matchy pie and ice cream; it's all delish.

TOLL HOUSE PIE

2 eggs

1/2 cup flour

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 cup butter, melted and cooled to room temperature

6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips

1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

1 9" unbaked pie shell

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. In large bowl beat eggs until frothy. Add flour, sugar, and brown sugar, beating until well blended. Blend in melted butter. Stir in chocolate chips and walnuts, if using. Pour into unbaked pie shell. Bake for one hour. Pie may be frozen after baking. Recipe may be doubled.

Who Is That Birthday Boy?

Let's play: Name This Baby Face

Can you guess who was due for the free birthday corndog offered by Wienershnizel for all good birthday boys and girls?

(Classy place to go for one's b-day!)

I'm really diggin' that sweet bike!

And those high-waisted pants . . .

Instead of cashing in on his free birthday corndog (probably a very wise decision), Mr. Birthday Boy opted to go with me to see these very cool hep cats:

My sincerest apologies to Christian for chopping off his head; I swear it wasn't my fault.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY(yesterday), DAVE

aka MR. BIRTHDAY BOY

aka MR. BABY FACE

aka MR. HIGH PANTS!

The Op!era: Neither a Borrower Nor a Lender Be

In an effort to stuff a little culture into our lives, I decided we should slap on our Sunday-go-tuh-meetin' clothes and attend the op!era. A quick tutorial--one must say "opera" like this: Op! clearly making a popping sound with the "p", then continuing on with er, . . . aaahhh, as in, "Er, aaah, I'm not so sure I want to sit through all of that quavering singing which is rattling those Swarovski crystal chandeliers hanging oh-so-precariously above my head. Can I just skip it?"

I'm pretty positive that some patrons in attendance thought they were going to see Oprah instead of the op!era. I heard some of them grumbling about being extremely disappointed after having just sat through three hours of vibrato, and there was not even a Pontiac car give-away at the end.

Here is a sample of what transpired during those three hours.

Full disclosure: There was no live horsey in the production we saw.

Nor was there quite as much, um, well, you know.

As I sat there watching the op!era feeling all hoity-toity and high-society-ish, I kept wondering to myself how many of my fellow audience members were silently singing along with the music but substituting the French lyrics being sung on stage for the lyrics of a classic Gilligan's Island episode wherein Herald Hecuba mounts Shakespeare's Hamlet using the music from Carmen. Don't know what I'm talking about? Gee whiz, go get some culture, and watch some after-school t.v.!

LYRICS SUNG BY GILLIGAN

THE TOREADOR SONG FROM "CARMEN" BEGINS

Stage is cobbled together with bamboo poles

Curtain made of the castaways' discarded clothing

Neither a borrower nor a lender be,      

Do not forget: Stay out of debt;      

Think twice, and take this good advice from me,      

Guard that old solvency.      

There’s just one other thing you ought to do,      

To thine own self be true.

(Wait.  A curtain made from the castaways' discarded clothing? Did you catch that? And they had extra clothing?  For a three-hour tour?  A three-hour tour?  I know that Ginger and Lovey had loads of extra junk, but why did Skipper have extra blue shirts and khaki pants, enough to be sewn into a stage curtain?  Perhaps he had a premonition of the weather getting rough and the tiny ship being tossed.  Golly, if not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost.  The Minnow would be lost!)  Are you lost?  Trust me.  This is funny stuff.

The Penguinettes

I don't know quite how to introduce the following clip except to say that I think we literally stunned the church congregation with this wacked-out silliness. To my memory, this particular ward has never done or seen any kind of lip sync-ish thing, so I decided it was TIME. Our performance was at the end of a very dignified and serious Primary in Excellence program where the children shared their musical and artsy talents, and the audience politely clapped and nodded and smiled. Well, we burst that little feel-good bubble.

And, yes, I admit it was my very own hare-brained idea from start to finish to wrangle these ladies into making spectacles of themselves just to satisfy an apparently long-suppressed and unacknowledged burning desire of mine to be Dick Van Dyke.

Do I hear you laughing? I'd bet my Swiss bank account (if I had one) that you are laughing AT me and not WITH me? Thought so.

*Those penguin pants were curiously quite comfortable and began to grow on me; after a while I swear I started channeling MC Hammer.

Trash Can Kings

Jeepers. This kid is such a rock star.

From a polished and sleek Steinway to a beaten-to-a-bloody-pulp garbage can. You gotta give Christian props--he's a very well rounded dude. And he wears a tuxedo and a hoodie equally well, don't you think?

Christian is Mr. Black Hood No. 5 as you look from right to left.

You can see him start his solo at the 2:03 mark.

Considering that this was performed at a 7:45 a.m. pep assembly, I'm guessing the student body was pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after that awesomeness.

MUSE IN CONCERT!

(Photos taken with my phone so not the best . . . but better than nothin')

Definitely the highlight of the entire concert was when Christopher Wolstenholme started playing "Man With a Harmonica" from one of my top three favorite movies, Once Upon a Time in the West. I'm pretty sure only about 1% of the entire audience had a clue as to what that was all about, which made it even more awesome. He then hucked his harmonica into the audience. I was feeling uber-jealous of the lucky duck who snagged that pop fly.

I think Matthew Bellamy was wearing a duct tape suit; Christopher Wolstenholme snubbed his nose at Utah's no smoking laws throughout the whole concert; and Dominic Harward truly beat those drums into complete submission til they were screaming for mercy.

The show was definitely worth the price of admission times two. Loved it so much!!!

An interesting observation as I was leaving the arena: None of that distinctive "burning vegetation" smell hanging in the air. Guess security was doing their job last night. But my feet were swimming in Bud Light . . .

From Our Hearts to His Wall

So it seems that on P-days Elder Sean hangs out in yet another Internet cafe' that unfortunately hosts the CHUG-A-LUG variety of computers which are unable to send photos, thus making me very, very frustrated that he can't zip off any new photos to us. I swear, we've only received about a dozen pictures from him during his entire mission. No foolin'. Can a mom call "foul" without losing any of her blessings she freely acknowledges as coming from having a boy on a mish?

I'm really hoping and praying that the lack of recent photos truly is due to the CHUG-A-LUG computers Sean is obliged to use and not because Sean has had an ear whacked off by a machete or some such nonsense causing him to be just plain scared to let us see that horror in a photo. I'm pretty sure he figures that we are astute enough to notice something like that, for goodness sake. He has been hinting a lot lately about stories that must wait until after the mission. I'm playing the odds that say that these are NOT Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm stories. Can you now understand my machete hangup? I think I need therapy.

k. So, because of the lack of recent pictures, I'm posting a photo of Sean which we received a couple of months ago featuring the handiwork of my little band of hooligans. And since I'm in charge of all of these little hooligans, I made sure that a lot of LUV went into Sean's poster. Sean wrote,

"Enjoy the photo that I am going to send you because I sure enjoyed receiving the big poster from the Primary! You guys are so thoughtful. I enjoyed all of the inspiring messages that were shared, and I really appreciate the effort that you put into sending me that! I hung it over my bed so I always wake up and go to bed with a smile."

Even if Sean comes home with only one ear, you can't resist loving a boy who writes something that sweet.

On a Steinway! Film at 11

Before you conk me over the head with my own shiny "SO PROUD TO BE HIS MOTHER" badge, may I just preface this post by saying that, yes, a part of me wants to let the world in on how fab my boy is, but part of me honestly just wants to chronicle* the following for the sake of having a record of it all. No, really. I'm dead serious as a doornail about that last part. The chronicling part. Read on.

Warning! Lengthy parenthetical ahead: (*Are any of you fellow bloggers like me in that you justify the time spent blogging {and chronicling} as simply following The Plan as you pretend that your blogging is the same as writing in your journal? Cuz I sure do. Takes quite a weight off of my shoulders, to tell you the truth. You see, I can kill two birds with one cake . . . wait, I can have two cakes and eat them too . . . wait . . . I'll get it . . . I can brag a little (a little?!), and I can keep a commandment all on the same Mac! Ta da! Thank you very much; my job here is done.)

All right! I AM getting on with it. Are you ready? Here goes: If you were paying attention to yesterday's post, you know that Master Christian auditioned for and was selected to be a part of the prestigious All-State Band! That means that he got to play percussion with the best musicians from the entire state at Abravanel Hall. Cool, huh. And it is super cool that even though he doesn't play the piano for any of his bands (he usually plays snare, timpani, marimba, drumset, loud clanky blocks, etc.), he was invited to play the piano for the two-part 18-minute symphony which the band performed during the concert. At Abravanel Hall! On a Steinway! In his very own tux!

Uh, can I have my shiny badge back? I want to slap it on my chest now.

Today's Quote is Brought to You By: The Coz

"That's my boy."

--Bill Cosby

Film at 11. Well, um, not at 11. I've just always wanted to write that. Film at maybe, perhaps, probably, not-making-any-promises-but-hopefully tomorrow. Ya'll come back now, ya hear?!

Oh Danny Boy . . . Oh Boy!!!

Well, it has happened yet again. Our mischievous house leprechaun, DANIEL QUINN, trotted on over again on St. Patrick's Day.

Little Kimball is now apprenticing with Daniel Quinn to take over when old Danny Boy retires. Kimball passed the entrance test with flying colors, mostly due to his authentic red hair (no henna rinse here, folks!), his penchant for wearin' o' the green, and his uncanny ability to strike the "leprechaun pout pose" on demand. (Those little leprechauns can be quite cantankerous if you get on their bad side, just so ya know.) In Kimball's case, however, his pout is the result of his incredible innate acting ability; Kimball's good nature always shines through in the end, no matter how hard he tries to fool us.

And the Fernwoods Go To . . .

We have a winner, folks!

But before I announce the winner, I need to thank you all (the hoards and hoards of you) who participated in my dippy little caption contest. So thanks! And now, without further ado, the winner is . . .

Stop the presses! Before I announce the winner I need to admit that I about split a gut laughing while reading through your submissions. Who knew you guys were all so funny? Knee slappers! So thanks! And now, without further ado, the winner is . . .

Whoa up. Uh, just one more thing, if you don't mind. (Sounds like Peter Falk in Columbo, huh.) I have to defend my judging decision by saying up front that I was not unduly influenced or coerced in any manner of my selection of the winner.

And there were absolutely no discussions about striking a deal involving the exchange of a certain box of chocolates for bathrooms being scoured and scrubbed and the guest towels fluffed and encircled with a bit of pretty grosgrain ribbon and the toilet paper replaced with the paper going over the top of the roll. Over the top--or else!!! Nah. None of that talk happened.

Nor was I promised a ginormous gift card bearing bar code number 00012876752 to Nordstrom at the University Mall if I chose this particular caption.

And there was seriously NO WAY that any under-the-table dealing went on with the vow of ponying up a purty little black 2010 E550 with saddle colored interior for little ol' me if the decision went, ahem, a particular way.

So with all of that said and understood, the big winner of the box of Fernwood Chocolate Mint Sandwiches is:

"I'd introduce you to my wife,

but she's having a bad hair day."

In the end, I had to go with the caption that really spoke to me. And unfortunately, this one pretty much sums up my life.

Thanks for playin' ya'll! I'll be out shopping for a little bit of this and a little bit of that (E550) if anyone needs to reach me.

So! What Have You Got to Say?

Got a caption for this photo?

Let 'er rip! Remember, be kind--we don't want any hurt feelings.

(Those wormy sculptures can be soreheads at times . . . .)

The unbelievablyfantasticmotherlode prize for the best submitted caption is shown below. Now, I ask you--does life get any bigger or grander than winning a mint sandwich? That's what I thought.

And now for the fine print: Again with the fine print? Yep. We run a legitimate business with this little dog and pony show, don't you know. So buck up, bucky, and go here to get a refresher course on the fine print. So! What have you got to say? Oh, and good luck to ya'll!

Captionless

Dagnabit, Myrtle, she's at it again . . .

IT'S ANOTHER DREADED

CAPTION CONTEST!

Run for your lives!

Well! Since it appears that we're all still experiencing those "drag-me-down-to you-know-where-winter-blues" causing me to be pretty darn close to chopping my head off, this is as good of a time as any to announce another caption contest! I KNOW! Can you believe it? You can thank me later. I can actually sense your excitement right now through my big monitor thingy! To jog your memory about the last caption contest and the hilarity that ensued, go here.

So, here's the drill: Tomorrow I will post a captionless photograph and let you go to town. But remember! Be kind! Also, a bunch of boring rules must be followed (please see small print below). The winner will receive the unbelievably fantastic mother lode of . . . um, let's see, the unbelievably fantastic mother lode of . . . well, the unbelievablyfantasticmotherlode of something or other. I'll get back to you on that. So enter today! You have until March 22 to submit as many captions as your little noggin can dream up. You can also submit anonymously if you are a bit shy about your brilliance--no need to name drop your own name if you don't want to cuz I'll be able to dig you up if you're the big winner. I can do that because I know people who know people who know people. You know, that whole Kevin Bacon thing and the six degrees of separation hooha.

And now for the fine print: a) winner must be living in the USofA (residents of Yuma, Arizona are not eligible due to the fact that they live in the USofA's "sunniest city", thus having absolutely no reason to snivel or whine about the ol' "drag-me-down-to-you-know-where-winter-blues" {Oooooh. Yes, I admit it, jealousy raises her ugly head here, folks . . .}; b) winner agrees to really, really, really try to put on a happy face when awarded the unbelievablyfantasticmotherlode of something or other; and, c) winner must agree to never, as in NOT UNTIL PIGS FLY, sue this sponsor if Kevin Bacon accuses winner of stalking him.

(Pigs, Kevin BACON, get it? . . . oh, I'll stop now.)

MORP

This year's theme for MORP:

BEAUTY AND THE GEEK

I would say, "mission accomplished" this go round, yes?

MORP = PROM spelled backward

The girl asks the guy

Um, . . . do you think this girl knew what she was

getting into when she asked this guy?

Christian is such a sport.

Another Q & A With Christian

HER QUESTION:

HIS ANSWER:

*Just in case you were wondering, we believe in recycling paper--but we do draw the line with . . . well . . . uh . . . how do I tactfully put this? We do draw the line with used T.P. Oh my. Now I've gone and done it. I hope I haven't offended anyone's delicate sensibilities with a bit too much information . . .

This Too Shall Not Pass

Whaddaya mean, this too shall NOT pass? No siree, bob. This video isn't going anywhere any time soon. I predict this will be setting a higher (and welcomed!) standard for music videos. So take that, MTV! Rube Goldberg must be hyperventilating with pride . . . er, that is if he's still alive . . . anybody know? Anyone? Anyone? Rube? Hey, Rube? Um, guess not. ANYWHO,

THIS WILL BLOW YOUR MIND!

Just watch.

A couple of times.

You'll love it.

You're welcome.

CONSUMER ALERT: Unfortunately, my blog is cutting off the right side of the video. LAME-O. You can watch the chopped off version below, or you can just click here and see it in all of its glory. Either way, just watch, k? But I recommend watching it in its hugeness. So just click. Click.

OK GO - "This Too Shall Pass"

Payday!

My worn-down-by-winter soul just received a much-needed hiiiii-yup in the form of this:

And so it appears that I may make it through this blasted winter to see my pasty white thighs in shorts after all. Let the record show that I am officially apologizing in advance for that horrific spectacle.