Food, Love

Plan B.

I woke up before dawn on Sunday, to a sweet smiling toddler with an an avocado obsession.

B- Cado, mommy. Cado.

We’re out of ‘cados, so we have to get up and get dressed to go find some at the store. I’m exhausted and in desperate need of coffee, but realize as soon as we walk in to Safeway, that I’ll need something to distract her with if I really intend to wait in line. Everyone else wants coffee this morning too. I consider the immediate options available to me and remember that she’s learned the magic of a band-aid this week. Her last tattered Minnie Mouse bandage had fallen off on our way out the door this morning. We rush down the health/first aid aisle first… in search of some new cartoon icon band-aids  to replenish our stash.

I catch sight of an old man, slowly searching through the disposable razors, the antacids and shaving cream. I hear him grumble about not being able to find something.

I’m a server. I really cannot stop myself from helping someone, no matter where or when. I’m tired… but I love the grey-hairs and he is looking more anxious by each frantic second.

So I offer.

J- Can I help you? I hate to eavesdrop but you seem to need a little help and this is the only place I shop. This is my store. I hate to say I know where everything is, but I do.

He looks relieved and because his phone is on speakerphone, I can hear his wife, clearly.

W- You never look. I could be standing beside you holding it and you couldn’t find it in my hands. For Pete’s sake.

He turns his back to me and barks briskly into the phone.

H- Would you like me to put the nice woman who offered to help me on the phone? I’m doing my best.

W- Oh My GOD damn it, Howard, you asked for help? How embarrassing.

I smiled at him to let him I know I was not a crazy person, and he opened his mouth and leveled me.

H- I’m looking for Plan B or the Morning After Pill.

W- It’s not called the morning after pill anymore, it’s just Plan B.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I fought back laughter and leveled with him.

J- I’ve only gotten it once and I had to get it from the Health Department.

Which he relays, loudly, over the loudspeaker on his phone.

H- It’s not here Dear. She got it from the Health Clinic. Is this, Oh for hell sakes, stop shouting at me.

W- We sound like perverts. Come home. I’ll get it myself.

Meanwhile, I’ve led him to the condom/pregnancy test/tampon aisle. The pharmacy is closed and it’s the only place I can imagine it’d be.

It’s not there. You can cure a stinky vag, replenish your feminine hygiene basket and prevent pregnancy… all in the same 10 feet.

Alas, you cannot stop a misfire spermatozoa from landing his lady outside of pharmacy hours.

She’s furious. He’s frustrated. I’m crimson and biting the inside of my cheeks to hold it together.

W- Let the poor woman go. How embarrassing.

H- You’re embarrassed? A complete stranger just led me to the condoms and pregnancy tests.

I’m coughing to keep from laughing. He stammers a “thank you” in my direction and I walk away before dissolving into giggles. I was shopping for Band-aids, so we went back down the other side only to hear more of their conversation.

W- I should have gone myself.

H- It’s the Superbowl and the pharmacy is closed. I can buy condoms or pregnancy tests, which feel late and early, considering.

W- Take a picture and send it to me.

H- I’m never shopping here again. Pour me a scotch.

Wouldn’t you know it… that coffee line had emptied by the time we’d secured our Doc McStuffin’s and Hello Kitty Bandaids after the wild goose chase for the Plan B.

Never a dull moment. Never a bad day.

Family, Farming, Food, Happiness, Victory!

Fresh Butternutty Goodness

I love love love seeing 10 hits on my blog. I feel like celebrating.

Gone are those 1000+ days. Amen.

I deleted all the baggage and cut all my ties.

I’ve been watching Hoarders lately and felt the same way about my blog. It had piles of shit I didn’t like, recognize or want anymore. It was so infested with douche bags and liars that the clean up would have been exhausting and endless- so instead I just burnt the whole fucker down- like most of the people on that show should do with their houses!

🙂 Ahhh. Peace. Clean sheets, new socks and your favorite sweatpants, sort of cozy freshness.

I’d documented my midlife crisis and sad attempts at having faith in the worst of humanity and took the last, very necessary response… and threw it all into the fire.

When you don’t like the view in the rear-view mirror anymore, you need a change of scenery and a fresh perspective.

Now I don’t mind writing anymore, though I may bore everyone to death with recipes, teething woes and too much gardening…

but at the very least… you’ll get to eat great food because I’m a domestic whirlwind these days. Behold! The perfect butternut squash soup, in my not-so-humble opinion… to celebrate this nice clean house.

My Better Butternut soup

8 cups good chicken stock. I make mine- you can do the same easily or buy it pre-made. Buy the organic one, really… because commercial chickens are perhaps the least respected meat raised and you should do your part to stop it. Even if your part is lazy- it counts. Ish.

1/2 c. Butter

2 c. Shallots. They’re the Filet Mignon of onions- trust me- spend the extra $.

3 cloves Garlic, minced, and while you’re at it- plant some! Garlic goes in to the ground this week and it’s so delicious home grown!

3.5-4 lb Butternut squash. Peel, seed and chop it into cubes. It’s a smooth textured winter squash and its glorious if you’re type A like me and want to see perfect orange cubes in a big white bowl.

2 c. Pumpkin puree. Finally something to make with all those pumpkins from the garden or in a can from the store- it all tastes the same.

1 c. Half & half

Just typing this recipe up makes me want to go make some more, and I just finished the batch I made this week for breakfast this morning.

s1

Dice your shallots and garlic while the butter melts in your stock pot. Let them soften over low-medium heat until they’re translucent. Add your chicken broth and bring to a boil over medium heat. Add your butternut squash cubes and pumpkin puree.  Simmer until the cubes of squash are soft and use your stick blender (don’t tell me you don’t have one. Go buy one!) until roughly half the cubes of butternut squash are blended. It will be a creamy lumpy texture and smell like heaven. Salt & pepper to taste.

s2

Add your half & half and stir, stir, stir. I usually make some naan or croutons to go along with it, but it’s good all by itself too. Enjoy a fresh & happy fall!

mmm

Food, Recipes

Salsa for Canning Recipe

salsa

This is absolutely my favorite recipe and it’s taken a decade to perfect. Enjoy!

Heirloom Salsa

10 c chopped tomatoes

5 c bell peppers

5 c onions

2 1/2 c peppers. (Be sure to remove the seeds if you want to keep your salsa mild!)

1 1/4 c lime juice

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 bunch of cilantro, chopped

3 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1 can of tomato paste (optional)

This is so easy and so ridiculously time consuming… but worth every minute spent until you’re placing the jars in your pantry! Throw all your ingredients in a stock pot and let simmer on low until the flavors are combined and your salsa has thickened to your liking. Fill sterilized canning jars, adjust lids and process in a hot water bath canner. 20 minutes for pints, 30 minutes for salsa

tomatoes

I can’t recommend highly enough to mix and match your flavors. I made a batch of Brandywine tomato & habanero pepper salsa this week that is amazing, and my Aunt Ruby’s German Green tomato & jalapeno mild salsa is equally as delicious. You can tailor this recipe to fit your heat preference and favorite flavors. Be sure to remember that salsa continues to get hotter after canned if you leave the seeds in the peppers!

Happy dipping!

Food, Friends, Truth, Whine/Rant

The little things they fail to mention…

In the midst of the painfully uncomfortable parts of pregnancy, there are a few things they fail to mention in the millions of parenting books I’ve borrowed from the library. Most of these details are old news since this is my third baby, but one of them is completely new to me.

Graphic dreams.

Sigh. I’ve had some WILD dreams the duration of my pregnancy, beginning at 16 weeks when I had nightmares of accidentally cooking kittens every night for a week. I was sick over it and finally sat down with my midwife and confessed in horror.

J- I accidentally boiled a kitten in my sleep last night. I was so mortified when I woke up I could hardly look at anyone.

M- It’s completely normal. When you’re pregnant, you wake up in the middle of your REM sleep cycle and you wake up frequently so you remember more of your dreams. The increased estrogen only makes them more realistic.

So I tried to chalk it up to nocturnal insanity brought on by the increased estrogen of growing a baby girl. Until I hit about 20 weeks and started having graphic sexual dreams. Constantly. Trying to shake them was of no use, and this was by no means a vanilla sort of experience.

A quick 15 minute nap turned into skin tingling torture by way of his teeth and misuse of kitchen utensils.

I woke up a dozen times in the middle of the night with beads of sweat on the back of my neck, having escaped from the restraints I’d been tied in… by a friend of mine.

Yeah… oops… they’re never with my boyfriend- and never from experience. I’ve never dated or so much as kissed the poor victim at the center of my unintentional fantasy life. He’s the most respectful guy I know and I would die, die, DIE… if he knew what my subconscious has made him do. The jealousy I deal with from my baby-daddy is already unbearable and I don’t dare add another name to his list of friends I’m not allowed to have. I’ve tried everything to shake it… but as soon as I close my eyes… there he is again.

He told me once how tired he was and I know I turned fifty shades of red just thinking of the long night he’d had at my house, while feeling wholeheartedly guilty and incapable of controlling or curtailing it.

His voice sounds strange in my ears anymore because he’s said some unbelievable things to me in the last 6 months, lol…

My midwife does her best to comfort me while assuring me it’s completely normal. She suggested I Google it so I could see what she meant, and sure enough… I am not the only one.

I do what I can. I watch murderous television and children’s movies. I try my best to put it out of my mind, for fear I’ll make the situation worse. I’ve only told a few of my closest friends who laugh mercilessly and beg for details.

He’s smiling and I’m not pregnant. He’s swinging a spatula at me and I’m breathless and giggling, trying my best to stop smiling while he chases me through the house with the best of carnal intentions… ignoring my shrieking laughter. Gahhhh make it stop!

My poor perfection… the dream guy who extends his already ridiculous hours into my subconscious acrobatics routine nightly while being none the wiser.

I can’t complain too much… it sure beats the heartburn and insomnia… but I may never be able to look him in the face again after last night.

Children, Family, Food, Friends, Happiness, Truth, Victory!

The Last Straw

Unfortunately my settings on one of these stupid dating sites has it chiming on my phone every time an email comes in, which is a lot. I finally sat down yesterday to change the settings in hopes of putting an end to the infernal distraction.

Success… oh and 22 new emails. I open the first one…

D- Hi.

That’s all. I see so many of these I just have to wonder what the hell these guys are thinking. You’re establishing contact with someone for the first time, hoping to spurn a response.

And all you’ve fucking got is Hi? Hello? Sup? Yo? Hey? I’ve seen them all and I never respond… but then you have to be a freak to ilicit a response from me because I’m only in it for the story at this point.

The playground is shut down for remodeling… and I’m a bored woman as a result. lol… I open the second email and it only gets better.

S-

4/28/2012 11:50:37 AM

Let me guess.. You found my profile more than a bit on the vulgar side.. Perhaps a bit disturbing as
well. you must have had a few glasses of wine to have even clicked on it.. I know your type.. Your a
mile above me.. And your clearly more than a bit too classy for my common ass.. but I might just
surprise you… And it’s not like I would expect you to tell your friends about me 😉

This guy has emailed me three times, and frankly; he’s repulsive. He’s not my type, I would really be being mean if I dated him.

What really stuns me, is that they make this assumption about me based on one picture, and one paragraph. Enough to insult me for not being interested in them.

They say women are crazy? Oh no. The penis-clad species is equally as crazy, if not more so, because they’re entitled to their jealousy. We’re supposed to understand that boys can be boys and “well you know he’s a man… he’s bound to be protective.

Turn those tables and you know what they call that girl? A date crasher. A stalker. A bunny boiler. Fatal attraction.

He’s protective, masculine, he just loves you a lot.

No. He’s a stalker and if I come up missing, check his house.

Yikers. A stalker is a stalker, is a stalker- and this guy is getting his panties in a bunch because he’s emailed me three times and I haven’t responded, but he can see that I viewed his profile.

Imagine him in real life. He’s the guy who stalks you daily, the one who wants to read your emails, look at your phone and account for every minute in your day and who you came in contact with. He “just stops by” and “just stays for the weekend”. Allowing this guy into your life is like petting a raccoon. They can imprint on you and follow you for life. They come in through windows, dog doors, chimneys. If they love you- they will do anything to be next to you.

It reminds me of fungus- no thanks.

The next email is a perfect example of why I’d really love to meet a nice woman every now and again. If anything inspires me to switch teams… it’s this guy.

USMC-

USMC

4/8/2012 12:18:29 AM
Wanna Chat
USMC

4/24/2012 10:59:16 PM
All girls like me I was in the military
USMC

4/24/2012 11:11:28 PM
And I have a very large penis

Yeah… he said that.

Like he actually expects a response finally that says “Oh well in that case, let’s chat” <eyeroll>

I don’t think I can even handle these internet retards any more. I may be officially ruined for men entirely.

Disgusted with the species… I signed out of the craziness that is meeting a date online.

I decided to make dinner and invite family over. My mama, her fabulous boyfriend, Sober One Kenobe and Mr. Man Card. My little princess.

Fresh pesto tortellini, asparagus, a green salad & garlic bread. Eclairs for dessert… with a glass of wine, around the kitchen table we’d pulled into the greenhouse and filled with spring flowers. It was a twinkly perfect evening full of the stuff that feels right. Family & friends and great food, laughing around the table in the light of white lights strung around the inside of the greenhouse with the smell of little tomatoes and flowers growing.

Internet dating cheapens what it’s supposed to be. You’re supposed to see a cute guy and smile. He’s supposed to ask for your number and you’re supposed to have dinner or something in this sort of circumstance. The twinkle lights are optional but I’d say they’re worth a few bonus points.

It’s supposed to be as good as dinner with your friends and family- it’s supposed to leave you smiling the next morning, washing a stack of dishes and throwing the tablecloth in the washer.

Internet dating is depressing- and that’s not what I’m looking for.

I can do without the creepy stalking oversharers.

I officially quit my internet presence as potential prey. I climbed out of the mud puddle.

……..and I feel cleaner already 🙂