I'm always on the lookout for new cookie recipes and I found one that was completely and utterly delish. Although I'm not traditionally a "boy" cookie fan, this one was more the better due to the nut factor. So here ya go, the cure to PMS and any issues of depression you maybe facing ;-).
Chocolate Turtle Cookies
1 cup of room temperature butter
1 1/2 cups of sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 cups unbleached flour
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
pinch of salt
1 cup of chocolate chips (can be milk or white chocolate)
1/2 cup chopped pecans
8 wrapped caramels, each cut into four pieces
Cream the butter and sugar together, and then add in the eggs and vanilla. In another bowl, mix all the dry powder ingredients and then slowly add them to the creamed batter. After the dough is well mixed, fold in the chips, nuts, and caramel chunks and then refrigerate for at least four hours. If you do not chill your dough, the caramels will sink to the bottom and stick to the pan. I chilled mine overnight and they came out perfect. Roll your chilled dough into balls and bake for 8-10 minutes at 350 degrees. When the cookies are sufficiently cooled, you can drizzle additional caramel on top for a special effect.
This dough would also make a great chocolate chip cookie dough base as it has a great flavor and is very chewy. Let me know what you think!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Redo! A Barnyard Love Story
He saw her as soon as she pulled into the driveway, admiring how the sun played off of her short blond hair and cast a golden hue on her cherubic face. He had first met her a few months back, exchanging nothing but quick sordid glances that appeared to leave both parties in a state of attraction. He knew he loved her from the moment he saw her and he could only imagine that she returned the feelings he held so strongly. Yes, they were from different worlds, opposite ends of the spectrum, but he knew that they could make it work with a little determination and a great deal of passion.
She saw him watching, leering if you will, and she immediately put up her guard. She didn't trust this fellow nor did she return the sentiment she could see oozing from his eyes. As she got out of her car he immediately approached her, keeping his distance all the while, but steadily holding her gaze with his caramel colored eyes. She slowly approached the house, as to not break his searing gaze nor anger him by appearing disinterested. He followed her, closely, and she could feel his hot breath on backs of her bare legs. She turned around to look at him, giving him a silent warning to hold his distance. She was a woman to be reckoned with and he needed to know this.
He saw her glance back at him and this just excited him more. She was only playing hard to get and he was sick of playing these mind games with her. He had always been well loved amongst the females and this time surely was no different. He knew that he needed to make his move and with one swift jump he grabbed her from behind, breathing hotly in her ear. She immediately reached back to push him away, denying the burning lust that he felt so strongly for her.
As she broke into a sprint towards the front door, he chased her, shrieking for her to stop and to give into the feelings she surely had for him. She continued to run, clutching the back of her right thigh and crying out in pain. He could see blood streaming down her leg and he suddenly realized that in his urgent yearning, he had accidentally injured his lover's leg. The site of her blood strangely exited him and urged him on even more in his quest for her favor. The chase continued for another few moments until she breeched the threshold of the house and promptly slammed the door in her suitor's face. He sat there for a moment, completely shocked at the rejection she had presented him with. He knew that she was someone who could be the mother of his children; the woman of his dreams; how could she not realize that?
He sat there for a few moments, silently listening to her screaming and endless profanities that he assumed were directed towards him. He would wait and hope that she would soon calm down and understand how important his longing was for her. Time was on his side and she would learn to love him back in time.
She looked out onto the front porch and saw the rooster still sitting there, perched on the ledge like an evil gargoyle. He was staring in the window piercing her with his beady little eyes, still full of lust. Her thigh was throbbing from where his spurs had barbed her and she calculated that she might need a few stitches if not a tetanus shot. She was beyond angry and swore vengeance against that damn rooster who took great pleasure in chasing her whenever she stopped by to visit her beloved grandchildren. No more could this rooster rule the driveway and residence, causing grief to her and any other person who chose to walk up the driveway. She had a twenty two caliber solution to the horny rooster problem and she just needed nap time in order to enact her plan.
Once the kids were settled snug in their beds, she slowly crept outside clutching the grips of the gun. The rooster, perked up by her presence, immediately began to do a throaty crow, in an attempt to impress his temptress. He began to slowly walk towards her, displaying his regal feathers as he knew that she was surely impressed with his handsome physique. As he approached her, she tightly squeezed the grip of the gun in her sweaty palms. The pressure on the trigger built up and was released in a spray of pure, unfiltered sulfur smelling well water that blasted him in the face and body. He quickly drew back, in an attempt to breathe through the pounding of water. Realizing that a hasty retreat would more than likely be the only way to save his life from a watery grave, he flew across the yard to the safety of the orchard.
It was that moment when their relationship ended. He realized that the love he had for her was one-side and would never to be returned. His heart ached for her but he knew that he had to go on. There were more ladies in the barnyard but none that had the legs that Grandma D had, nor the cougar qualities that he craved in such an attractive hen.
This sad story of impossible love is a true one; lived out in our barnyard. Our heroine was ultimately faced with a tetanus shot, a butterfly bandage of her wound, and a large doctor's office copay. Our hero later met his fate with a dose of lead poisoning as he tried to molest the mail lady, UPS driver and Schwan’s guy. He had so much love to give but just didn't know how to give it. Rest in peace horny rooster.
She saw him watching, leering if you will, and she immediately put up her guard. She didn't trust this fellow nor did she return the sentiment she could see oozing from his eyes. As she got out of her car he immediately approached her, keeping his distance all the while, but steadily holding her gaze with his caramel colored eyes. She slowly approached the house, as to not break his searing gaze nor anger him by appearing disinterested. He followed her, closely, and she could feel his hot breath on backs of her bare legs. She turned around to look at him, giving him a silent warning to hold his distance. She was a woman to be reckoned with and he needed to know this.
He saw her glance back at him and this just excited him more. She was only playing hard to get and he was sick of playing these mind games with her. He had always been well loved amongst the females and this time surely was no different. He knew that he needed to make his move and with one swift jump he grabbed her from behind, breathing hotly in her ear. She immediately reached back to push him away, denying the burning lust that he felt so strongly for her.
As she broke into a sprint towards the front door, he chased her, shrieking for her to stop and to give into the feelings she surely had for him. She continued to run, clutching the back of her right thigh and crying out in pain. He could see blood streaming down her leg and he suddenly realized that in his urgent yearning, he had accidentally injured his lover's leg. The site of her blood strangely exited him and urged him on even more in his quest for her favor. The chase continued for another few moments until she breeched the threshold of the house and promptly slammed the door in her suitor's face. He sat there for a moment, completely shocked at the rejection she had presented him with. He knew that she was someone who could be the mother of his children; the woman of his dreams; how could she not realize that?
He sat there for a few moments, silently listening to her screaming and endless profanities that he assumed were directed towards him. He would wait and hope that she would soon calm down and understand how important his longing was for her. Time was on his side and she would learn to love him back in time.
She looked out onto the front porch and saw the rooster still sitting there, perched on the ledge like an evil gargoyle. He was staring in the window piercing her with his beady little eyes, still full of lust. Her thigh was throbbing from where his spurs had barbed her and she calculated that she might need a few stitches if not a tetanus shot. She was beyond angry and swore vengeance against that damn rooster who took great pleasure in chasing her whenever she stopped by to visit her beloved grandchildren. No more could this rooster rule the driveway and residence, causing grief to her and any other person who chose to walk up the driveway. She had a twenty two caliber solution to the horny rooster problem and she just needed nap time in order to enact her plan.
Once the kids were settled snug in their beds, she slowly crept outside clutching the grips of the gun. The rooster, perked up by her presence, immediately began to do a throaty crow, in an attempt to impress his temptress. He began to slowly walk towards her, displaying his regal feathers as he knew that she was surely impressed with his handsome physique. As he approached her, she tightly squeezed the grip of the gun in her sweaty palms. The pressure on the trigger built up and was released in a spray of pure, unfiltered sulfur smelling well water that blasted him in the face and body. He quickly drew back, in an attempt to breathe through the pounding of water. Realizing that a hasty retreat would more than likely be the only way to save his life from a watery grave, he flew across the yard to the safety of the orchard.
It was that moment when their relationship ended. He realized that the love he had for her was one-side and would never to be returned. His heart ached for her but he knew that he had to go on. There were more ladies in the barnyard but none that had the legs that Grandma D had, nor the cougar qualities that he craved in such an attractive hen.
This sad story of impossible love is a true one; lived out in our barnyard. Our heroine was ultimately faced with a tetanus shot, a butterfly bandage of her wound, and a large doctor's office copay. Our hero later met his fate with a dose of lead poisoning as he tried to molest the mail lady, UPS driver and Schwan’s guy. He had so much love to give but just didn't know how to give it. Rest in peace horny rooster.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Redo! The Truth About Polar Bears
Over the weekend, D-man took both grandpas and the chitlins' out to our hunting cabin in the Mattole Valley. They claim it's a "hunting" trip but in all reality, the only thing they bring back is a load of firewood and a lot of crushed beer cans. I don't mind because it's all about the family time and I truly appreciate the fact that my kids get to enjoy such a great bonding experience with both their grandpas and dad.
D-man shared with me a story that happened over dinnertime. The family had settled into a nice dinner which included a disgusting can of peas that Grandpa Dale tried to convince the kids to eat. Even D-man agreed that the peas resembled baby food more than something delicious and edible. While the kids whined their way through dinner, Papa Tom thought he'd lighten the mood with a little joke.
Papa Tom: Hey kids, do you know how to catch a polar bear?
Kids: Intrigued. No, how?
Papa Tom: You cut a hole in the ice.
Kids: Yeah.
Papa Tom: Then you take these here green peas and sprinkle them around the hole.
Kids: Huh? Clearly confused, they keep listening.
Papa Tom: When the polar bear comes in to take a peak, you kick him in the ice hole.
The kids erupted into tremendous laughter and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. C-dub seemed to enjoy the joke the most as he had big, fat tears rolling down his chubby little cheeks. I don't know that he necessarily understood it, but the whole idea that it sounded like a naughty word and you got to kick a bear in the big 'ole butt was enough to do him in.
Cute joke. I just hope C-dub doesn't repeat it on Friday Share Day.
D-man shared with me a story that happened over dinnertime. The family had settled into a nice dinner which included a disgusting can of peas that Grandpa Dale tried to convince the kids to eat. Even D-man agreed that the peas resembled baby food more than something delicious and edible. While the kids whined their way through dinner, Papa Tom thought he'd lighten the mood with a little joke.
Papa Tom: Hey kids, do you know how to catch a polar bear?
Kids: Intrigued. No, how?
Papa Tom: You cut a hole in the ice.
Kids: Yeah.
Papa Tom: Then you take these here green peas and sprinkle them around the hole.
Kids: Huh? Clearly confused, they keep listening.
Papa Tom: When the polar bear comes in to take a peak, you kick him in the ice hole.
The kids erupted into tremendous laughter and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. C-dub seemed to enjoy the joke the most as he had big, fat tears rolling down his chubby little cheeks. I don't know that he necessarily understood it, but the whole idea that it sounded like a naughty word and you got to kick a bear in the big 'ole butt was enough to do him in.
Cute joke. I just hope C-dub doesn't repeat it on Friday Share Day.
Redo! The Birds And The Bees
As I'm sitting here blogging tonight, I look over to see sweet little Taterbug reading a book to C-dub. They seemed intently focused on the pictures accompanying the story she was ever so lovingly narrating to her little brother. I settled back into my own little world until I began to hear some snickering and the occasional word that perked my mommy radar. But when she uttered the phrase, "It is not uncommon for him to mount various objects, and people, in an effort to satisfy his mature sexual urges," I knew it was time to step in.
Mommazilla: Whatcha readin' there Tater?
Taterbug: Just a book about dogs.
Mommazilla: Show me.
She holds up a book about Golden Retrievers and shows me the picture she and C-dub were studying. It's a diagram of a very well endowed male dog, penis and all. His momma would have been proud.
Mommazilla: Tater, read a different chapter, K?
Taterbug: OK Mom, but why?
Mommazilla: Well, it's not something that C-dub needs to see or hear. He'll get nightmares or something...I start to mumble a rebuttal but she thankfully turns the page.
She continues reading to C-dub and I settle back into my computer world. She starts reading again and life is good until I hear, "If you need to walk your bitch, take her in the car to a nearby park or field for a chance to stretch her legs." Taterbug and C-dub both start laughing hysterically, knowing full well that they had just read an expletive in a real, live book.
Mommazilla: Taterbug! Enough! That word is a naughty word but it's also the name for a female dog. OK?
Taterbug: Giggling... OK Mom.
C-dub: We have bwiches Mom! Taterbug is rolling at this point.
Taterbug: C-dub's right! We do!
Mommazilla: Yes we do and they each have a name, so use it rather than your new word. K?
The conversation ended with me confiscating the book. I know that "the talk" is coming soon but I want to have reinforcements for this one - I may pass out or worse, start giggling uncontrollably. Grandma Tain did buy us a wonderful book, fully explaining "the talk" (with great cartoon lovemaking included - gag!) but I'm just not ready. I'm torn whether or not to let her learn the way I did - 3rd grade, girl's bathroom, the first girl with boobs and her period layed it down for us. I think I'm just going to wait it out just a bit and try to grow a set of cajones big enough to tackle this task because right now, I'm a self-proclaimed virgin at all this stuff.
Mommazilla: Whatcha readin' there Tater?
Taterbug: Just a book about dogs.
Mommazilla: Show me.
She holds up a book about Golden Retrievers and shows me the picture she and C-dub were studying. It's a diagram of a very well endowed male dog, penis and all. His momma would have been proud.
Mommazilla: Tater, read a different chapter, K?
Taterbug: OK Mom, but why?
Mommazilla: Well, it's not something that C-dub needs to see or hear. He'll get nightmares or something...I start to mumble a rebuttal but she thankfully turns the page.
She continues reading to C-dub and I settle back into my computer world. She starts reading again and life is good until I hear, "If you need to walk your bitch, take her in the car to a nearby park or field for a chance to stretch her legs." Taterbug and C-dub both start laughing hysterically, knowing full well that they had just read an expletive in a real, live book.
Mommazilla: Taterbug! Enough! That word is a naughty word but it's also the name for a female dog. OK?
Taterbug: Giggling... OK Mom.
C-dub: We have bwiches Mom! Taterbug is rolling at this point.
Taterbug: C-dub's right! We do!
Mommazilla: Yes we do and they each have a name, so use it rather than your new word. K?
The conversation ended with me confiscating the book. I know that "the talk" is coming soon but I want to have reinforcements for this one - I may pass out or worse, start giggling uncontrollably. Grandma Tain did buy us a wonderful book, fully explaining "the talk" (with great cartoon lovemaking included - gag!) but I'm just not ready. I'm torn whether or not to let her learn the way I did - 3rd grade, girl's bathroom, the first girl with boobs and her period layed it down for us. I think I'm just going to wait it out just a bit and try to grow a set of cajones big enough to tackle this task because right now, I'm a self-proclaimed virgin at all this stuff.
Redo! A Day At The The-ah-tah
I've never been a big fan of the "the-ah-tah" (insert uppity British accent here) but when I had the opportunity to attend a play at the new Arkley Center for the Performing Arts, I jumped at the chance. Plus it was a free. Oh, and I got to go with my kid. Bonus mommy points on the karma counter.
We left Taterbug's school at about 10:15 AM in the hopes of being there and in our seats by 11AM. After a rather painless drive from Fortuna to Eureka, I turned onto G Street and saw something that seriously shook my consciousness, grabbing my spinal cord and violently squeezing it into bloody pulp. Lining the sidewalk was a sea of wild short people. There were at least two million grammar school children with a few parents scattered here and there, pounding at the doors of the Arkley Center, demanding entrance. I looked for a way to quickly turn around and escape the terror promising to envelop me and schat me out, but it was to no avail. The four large orange slugs (school busses) blocked my way and the entire street for that matter.
I carefully parked my car and sat there in the driver’s seat, looking for any friendly faces that might greet me in my plight to insanity. I saw my daughter’s teacher and ran over (yes – I did freakin’ run – the little people scared me) to find shelter, ducking small people cries and cheers. I also found my daughter who was standing with her little classmates. I think she could sense my fear because she grabbed my hand and squeezed it in her sweaty little palm. The line slowly moved towards the doorway of the the-ah-tah and I saw two nicely dressed woman and a suave looking man, attempting to direct the horizontally challenged grammar school traffic. The parents looked at them sympathetically as they franticly spoke to each other via expensive looking radios. Did they not notice they were within earshot of one another? But heck, you don’t look nearly as sophisticated yelling. I’d stick with the high tech walkie-talkies, too.
When we finally herded the vicious cattle through the first door, we were ushered upstairs to our awaiting section. The children and grown-ups for that matter, seemed to really appreciate the beauty of the rehabbed the-ah-tah and I heard many ooh’s and aah’s. I, on the other hand, was more interested in finding out where the bathroom was as my coffee had decided to make an early escape into the golden pipes of the the-ah-tah. I left Taterbug with her buddies and quickly found the bathroom.
Prior to leaving my seat, sweet little Taterbug reminded me that we were “sposed” to use the bathroom before leaving the school. I explained to her that I don’t like midget toilets that forced my knees to touch my ears when I peed and that’s exactly what her school bathrooms contained. You may call me a bathroom snob but I know for a fact that little girls aren’t the cleanest creatures – especially in this area.
As I reached the bathroom, I walked through one elegant door and then another and another, to discover there were only two bathroom stalls in a small room. I wasn’t quite sure of the appropriate bathroom etiquette – do you stay in the little two stall room and await the pee’er or do you wait by the sink and then face the chance that some little biotch will jump your spot in the line professing her need to go first while doing the well know potty dance? Decisions, decisions. I chose the latter and waited patiently outside the stall door, occasionally sighing and ever so often, tapping my foot for the slow going urinators.
After I did my business, I returned to my seat only to find a roaring the-ah-tah. The kids were going ape schat as they screamed, yelled, and otherwise strongly encouraged the actors to begin their play (which was “Cinderella” by the way). I guess they were expecting the worst from these little heathens because they even took the time to hire a uniformed security guard to patrol the second floor. He eyed each little bugger, threatening to take them in if they got too close to the balcony or even showed a sign of having chewing gum. I gulped when I saw his dedication and quickly looked through my purse to ensure that my cell phone was off. I didn’t want to get “hooked up” in front of my kid.
As I turned my cell phone off, Taterbug leaned over to me, whispering and pointing at a mother in the front row of our section. The mother, oblivious to the felony she was creating, was chatting away to some other nimrod on the other end of the phone. My daughter was peeved that this broad had not been following direction nor listening to the rules, so she offered to go over and “punch her in the nose” as a reminder that her phone needed to be off. I quietly suggested to Taterbug that although I did agree with her aggravation, I didn’t think bodily harm would do much for her and my reputation around the school yard.
When the play finally started, the lights dimmed and the kids again went ape schat. You’d think that Hannah Montana had hit the stage or even better yet, those yummy little Jonas brothers (who Mommazilla doesn’t mind watching). Heck, I’d probably even start screaming, throwing my granny panties at the stage and dramatically fainting in my seat until one of those little brothers came up and…well, you get the point. Cute kids. Bet their momma is proud. Yes, that’s so much more motherly sounding.
The play started and for the better part of an hour, the kids were very entertained by the actors and actresses. I was so relieved to see and hear that this was not a musical, except for just two songs. I think I would have completely lost it if there was singing. Again, I repeat myself: I don’t do the whole the-ah-tah experience, unless that is it’s covered with buttery popcorn, a large Pepsi, and a box of Milk Duds. And, the Jonah Brothers perform (the three good things about the Hannah Montana in 3-D movie). But I digress…
I liked the play just fine but was sad to see that they didn’t include any of the little rodents that helped to build Cinderella’s dress. The costumes were so-so and actually reminded me of the prom I went to my freshman year of high school. The kind of prom you want to forget when you look back at the craptacular pic’s . You know, the ones you took with that looser date who kept trying cop a feel the whole night, telling you what really happens on prom night and then looks so forlorn and sad when you tell him to pound sand – oh look, I’m digressing…again.
We then left the the-ah-tah without much hooplah. After I bid my daughter and class adieu, I was pleasantly unsurprised to find that one of the freakin’ busses had parked so closed to my car door that I think my car is now expecting a baby bus – a short bus I guess. The little turds on the bus saw my frustration (and the couple of f-bombs I mumbled loudly didn’t help too much) and laughed out loud watching the “funny wady” climbing across her passenger seat into her driver’s seat. And of course, while I’m trying to leap the gear shift, the bus pulls away from my door clearly exposing my precarious position to the million students on the sidewalk, waiting for their bus ride. Thankfully, the little monsters were too busy picking their noses and slapping each other to notice my vehicle frolicking and I was able to flip them the bird and quickly pull away from the sidewalk. No, I did not flip any innocent children off. It was only to the little schats who gave me a headache from their incessant screaming.
You may not have guessed it, but I did have a good time and I was ever so pleased to have been invited on this class trip. Next time, I'll just bring ear plugs for the more "quiet" portions of the adventure.
We left Taterbug's school at about 10:15 AM in the hopes of being there and in our seats by 11AM. After a rather painless drive from Fortuna to Eureka, I turned onto G Street and saw something that seriously shook my consciousness, grabbing my spinal cord and violently squeezing it into bloody pulp. Lining the sidewalk was a sea of wild short people. There were at least two million grammar school children with a few parents scattered here and there, pounding at the doors of the Arkley Center, demanding entrance. I looked for a way to quickly turn around and escape the terror promising to envelop me and schat me out, but it was to no avail. The four large orange slugs (school busses) blocked my way and the entire street for that matter.
I carefully parked my car and sat there in the driver’s seat, looking for any friendly faces that might greet me in my plight to insanity. I saw my daughter’s teacher and ran over (yes – I did freakin’ run – the little people scared me) to find shelter, ducking small people cries and cheers. I also found my daughter who was standing with her little classmates. I think she could sense my fear because she grabbed my hand and squeezed it in her sweaty little palm. The line slowly moved towards the doorway of the the-ah-tah and I saw two nicely dressed woman and a suave looking man, attempting to direct the horizontally challenged grammar school traffic. The parents looked at them sympathetically as they franticly spoke to each other via expensive looking radios. Did they not notice they were within earshot of one another? But heck, you don’t look nearly as sophisticated yelling. I’d stick with the high tech walkie-talkies, too.
When we finally herded the vicious cattle through the first door, we were ushered upstairs to our awaiting section. The children and grown-ups for that matter, seemed to really appreciate the beauty of the rehabbed the-ah-tah and I heard many ooh’s and aah’s. I, on the other hand, was more interested in finding out where the bathroom was as my coffee had decided to make an early escape into the golden pipes of the the-ah-tah. I left Taterbug with her buddies and quickly found the bathroom.
Prior to leaving my seat, sweet little Taterbug reminded me that we were “sposed” to use the bathroom before leaving the school. I explained to her that I don’t like midget toilets that forced my knees to touch my ears when I peed and that’s exactly what her school bathrooms contained. You may call me a bathroom snob but I know for a fact that little girls aren’t the cleanest creatures – especially in this area.
As I reached the bathroom, I walked through one elegant door and then another and another, to discover there were only two bathroom stalls in a small room. I wasn’t quite sure of the appropriate bathroom etiquette – do you stay in the little two stall room and await the pee’er or do you wait by the sink and then face the chance that some little biotch will jump your spot in the line professing her need to go first while doing the well know potty dance? Decisions, decisions. I chose the latter and waited patiently outside the stall door, occasionally sighing and ever so often, tapping my foot for the slow going urinators.
After I did my business, I returned to my seat only to find a roaring the-ah-tah. The kids were going ape schat as they screamed, yelled, and otherwise strongly encouraged the actors to begin their play (which was “Cinderella” by the way). I guess they were expecting the worst from these little heathens because they even took the time to hire a uniformed security guard to patrol the second floor. He eyed each little bugger, threatening to take them in if they got too close to the balcony or even showed a sign of having chewing gum. I gulped when I saw his dedication and quickly looked through my purse to ensure that my cell phone was off. I didn’t want to get “hooked up” in front of my kid.
As I turned my cell phone off, Taterbug leaned over to me, whispering and pointing at a mother in the front row of our section. The mother, oblivious to the felony she was creating, was chatting away to some other nimrod on the other end of the phone. My daughter was peeved that this broad had not been following direction nor listening to the rules, so she offered to go over and “punch her in the nose” as a reminder that her phone needed to be off. I quietly suggested to Taterbug that although I did agree with her aggravation, I didn’t think bodily harm would do much for her and my reputation around the school yard.
When the play finally started, the lights dimmed and the kids again went ape schat. You’d think that Hannah Montana had hit the stage or even better yet, those yummy little Jonas brothers (who Mommazilla doesn’t mind watching). Heck, I’d probably even start screaming, throwing my granny panties at the stage and dramatically fainting in my seat until one of those little brothers came up and…well, you get the point. Cute kids. Bet their momma is proud. Yes, that’s so much more motherly sounding.
The play started and for the better part of an hour, the kids were very entertained by the actors and actresses. I was so relieved to see and hear that this was not a musical, except for just two songs. I think I would have completely lost it if there was singing. Again, I repeat myself: I don’t do the whole the-ah-tah experience, unless that is it’s covered with buttery popcorn, a large Pepsi, and a box of Milk Duds. And, the Jonah Brothers perform (the three good things about the Hannah Montana in 3-D movie). But I digress…
I liked the play just fine but was sad to see that they didn’t include any of the little rodents that helped to build Cinderella’s dress. The costumes were so-so and actually reminded me of the prom I went to my freshman year of high school. The kind of prom you want to forget when you look back at the craptacular pic’s . You know, the ones you took with that looser date who kept trying cop a feel the whole night, telling you what really happens on prom night and then looks so forlorn and sad when you tell him to pound sand – oh look, I’m digressing…again.
We then left the the-ah-tah without much hooplah. After I bid my daughter and class adieu, I was pleasantly unsurprised to find that one of the freakin’ busses had parked so closed to my car door that I think my car is now expecting a baby bus – a short bus I guess. The little turds on the bus saw my frustration (and the couple of f-bombs I mumbled loudly didn’t help too much) and laughed out loud watching the “funny wady” climbing across her passenger seat into her driver’s seat. And of course, while I’m trying to leap the gear shift, the bus pulls away from my door clearly exposing my precarious position to the million students on the sidewalk, waiting for their bus ride. Thankfully, the little monsters were too busy picking their noses and slapping each other to notice my vehicle frolicking and I was able to flip them the bird and quickly pull away from the sidewalk. No, I did not flip any innocent children off. It was only to the little schats who gave me a headache from their incessant screaming.
You may not have guessed it, but I did have a good time and I was ever so pleased to have been invited on this class trip. Next time, I'll just bring ear plugs for the more "quiet" portions of the adventure.
Redo! The Joy Of Leather Couches
I love my leather couches. Affordable, super comfy, and most importantly, easy to clean; they are (and continue to be) a perfect fit in our household. The kids also love these couches for many reasons other than the ones I previously mentioned (i.e.: They make awesome farting sounds when you glide stinky feet across the cushions and you can catch major air jumping from the first to third couch cushion and then back to the middle love seat cushion). They are also a direct representation of adulthood as they were the first "grown up" purchases hubby and I made as adults. They replaced the heavy wood framed couches with the gorgeous black floral satin cushions (think Brady Bunch crossed with John Holmes and you'll get the fashion flavor of these things) given to us by well-meaning in laws. Gotta love hand-me-downs. But I digress, let's get back to the subject of my pride and joy leather couches.
A few months back, I allowed Taterbug and C-Dub to have freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on my prized couches. Our carpeting is also fairly new (and wayyyy too light for the presence of little people) so it's a real treat to eat anything in the living room, especially on mommy's prized furniture. It was a typical night and as usual, both kids were naked after hosting their own karate/kick boxing/slap fighting living room tournament (it was a draw by the way, due to both kids ending up crying at just about the same time and accidentally wiping out their little brother). Besides being all riled up from the tournament, they were both completely covered with chocolate (mixed in with a little cookie and milk for good measure). After a good bath with lots of soap and loofah scrubbing, they were off to bed. Just prior to dream time, I praised them for doing so well eating on the couches.
When I awoke the next morning, I walked into the living room and began to admire my beautiful couches in the beaming morning light. As I conducted my daily inspection, I could clearly see two dried brown streaks on the cushions of the larger couch. I immediately did the mommy thing and licked my pointer finger in an effort to wipe the cushion off. That stubborn "chocolate" stain just wasn't coming off. So, I continued to do the mommy thing and licked my middle finger in an effort to add more mommy-cleaner (spit) to the cushion. This helped a little but I still had more to go. So, I proceeded to add more cleaner (spit) by licking my ring finger and as I did, I caught a whiff of something that certainly didn't smell like chocolate. As I suddenly came to the realization of what I was actually cleaning, my daughter walks out, sees what I'm doing and says, "I told you C-Dub had a dirty butt last night, mom, he doesn't wipe very good." This immediately brought on a session of dry heaving and gagging, only to be soothed by the brushing of my teeth with my very effective Oral B electric toothbrush and a good dosing of Listerine (some swallowed for the medicinal qualities).
The moral of my story is simple. Love your furniture but don't love your furniture. No inanimate object is worth the taste of a five year old's stinky butt on your tongue.
A few months back, I allowed Taterbug and C-Dub to have freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on my prized couches. Our carpeting is also fairly new (and wayyyy too light for the presence of little people) so it's a real treat to eat anything in the living room, especially on mommy's prized furniture. It was a typical night and as usual, both kids were naked after hosting their own karate/kick boxing/slap fighting living room tournament (it was a draw by the way, due to both kids ending up crying at just about the same time and accidentally wiping out their little brother). Besides being all riled up from the tournament, they were both completely covered with chocolate (mixed in with a little cookie and milk for good measure). After a good bath with lots of soap and loofah scrubbing, they were off to bed. Just prior to dream time, I praised them for doing so well eating on the couches.
When I awoke the next morning, I walked into the living room and began to admire my beautiful couches in the beaming morning light. As I conducted my daily inspection, I could clearly see two dried brown streaks on the cushions of the larger couch. I immediately did the mommy thing and licked my pointer finger in an effort to wipe the cushion off. That stubborn "chocolate" stain just wasn't coming off. So, I continued to do the mommy thing and licked my middle finger in an effort to add more mommy-cleaner (spit) to the cushion. This helped a little but I still had more to go. So, I proceeded to add more cleaner (spit) by licking my ring finger and as I did, I caught a whiff of something that certainly didn't smell like chocolate. As I suddenly came to the realization of what I was actually cleaning, my daughter walks out, sees what I'm doing and says, "I told you C-Dub had a dirty butt last night, mom, he doesn't wipe very good." This immediately brought on a session of dry heaving and gagging, only to be soothed by the brushing of my teeth with my very effective Oral B electric toothbrush and a good dosing of Listerine (some swallowed for the medicinal qualities).
The moral of my story is simple. Love your furniture but don't love your furniture. No inanimate object is worth the taste of a five year old's stinky butt on your tongue.
Redo! The Best Cookies Ever - For Real!
I was feeling rather industrious (i.e. I had major PMS and needed chocolate therapy) the other day, and baked about four dozen chocolate and chocolate chocolate chip cookies for my little munchkins. I only ate five or six or the little lumpy mounds of goodness, just enough to ensure my children's safety - I wouldn't want an errant egg shell or bit of coagulated brown sugar to hinder their digestive processes.
When I tell you that these are the world's best chocolate chip cookies, it's the absolute truth. These cookies are so good that they're sinful. One bite into these little pieces of ooey, gooey, goodness, and you'll be hooked forever on his recipe. I consider myself to be a cookie snob when it comes to chocolate chip cookies. They must be chewy and soft, with just the right amount of dough to chip ratio. These cookies fit the bill. Not only will I provide to you this secret recipe of cookie magic, but I'll also give you a few tips on how to ensure success. First, here's the recipe:
2 1/4 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 eggs
1/4 cup white sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar (make sure and pack that brown goodness down)
1 small box of instant vanilla pudding (you can use chocolate pudding instead)
1 cup unsalted butter (don't be cheap - use real unsalted butter - and leave the two cubes on the counter to soften. I use unsalted butter so I can control the amount of salt in my recipes.)
1 tsp. real vanilla (yes, use the stuff you can also drink to get a buzz while baking)
1 package of semi-sweet chocolate chips (milk chocolate is o.k., but the semi offers a nicer contrast)
1 cup of walnuts (I only like female cookies, but should you prefer male cookies, you can add the nuts)
Preheat your oven to 375 degress. You must preheat or your first batch of cookies will not cook perfectly and I'll be sad. In a bowl, combine the flour, salt and baking soda, and set it aside. Walk away from this bowl. You did not need it now. It's OK. In a mixing bowl (using a hand or stand mixer - don't prove your worth and get carpal tunnel using your own power - no one to impress here), combine the mushy but not melted butter (melted butter will give you flat, uninteresting cookies) with the sugars and dry pudding mix. Do not cook the pudding in advance. This will make for cookie yuckiness and defile the recipe.
After this is sufficiently mixed into a gritty, peanut buttery texture, add the eggs in, one by one. And then the vanilla can go in as well. Be generous with the vanilla. We like vanilla. Take a swig of the vanilla so that you can appreciate its wholesome goodness. Mix until combined and then slowly add in the flour combination, about a half a cup at a time. Once this is all mixed in, you can add your chocolate chips and boy parts if you'd like. Make sure to sample at least a quarter cup. Again, eggshell control and chocolate chip evaluation is an imperative part of chocolate chip cookie making. Screw salmonella, I can take a little bloody diarrhea with my cookies.
On a greased baking sheet, drop by rounded teaspoons giving each cookie about an inch and half space. Don't crowd your cookies. They don't like having other cookies all up in their grill. That's how they roll, yo.
Bake for about eight minutes. Do not leave the kitchen while they are baking lest you allow them to overcook and turn an improper shade of brown. When the cookies are somewhat flattened and look like they are not quite done, remove them from the oven and allow them to rest. Do not try to wake them by prematurely by removing them from their resting place. They just worked very hard and deserve to get some beauty sleep.
And beautiful they will be, when you do eventually place them on a sheet of waxed paper or plate. Repeat the process of baking and cooling, until you have approximately 1/2 cup of cookie dough left in the bowl. This is what I like to call the "bottom of the barrel" dough and should be consumed by the baker. Again, this is for quality control only. You're looking to make sure that your dough was consistently good throughout.
If you try this recipe, do me a favor and let me know what you think. I assure you that it's worth the time and energy.
When I tell you that these are the world's best chocolate chip cookies, it's the absolute truth. These cookies are so good that they're sinful. One bite into these little pieces of ooey, gooey, goodness, and you'll be hooked forever on his recipe. I consider myself to be a cookie snob when it comes to chocolate chip cookies. They must be chewy and soft, with just the right amount of dough to chip ratio. These cookies fit the bill. Not only will I provide to you this secret recipe of cookie magic, but I'll also give you a few tips on how to ensure success. First, here's the recipe:
2 1/4 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 eggs
1/4 cup white sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar (make sure and pack that brown goodness down)
1 small box of instant vanilla pudding (you can use chocolate pudding instead)
1 cup unsalted butter (don't be cheap - use real unsalted butter - and leave the two cubes on the counter to soften. I use unsalted butter so I can control the amount of salt in my recipes.)
1 tsp. real vanilla (yes, use the stuff you can also drink to get a buzz while baking)
1 package of semi-sweet chocolate chips (milk chocolate is o.k., but the semi offers a nicer contrast)
1 cup of walnuts (I only like female cookies, but should you prefer male cookies, you can add the nuts)
Preheat your oven to 375 degress. You must preheat or your first batch of cookies will not cook perfectly and I'll be sad. In a bowl, combine the flour, salt and baking soda, and set it aside. Walk away from this bowl. You did not need it now. It's OK. In a mixing bowl (using a hand or stand mixer - don't prove your worth and get carpal tunnel using your own power - no one to impress here), combine the mushy but not melted butter (melted butter will give you flat, uninteresting cookies) with the sugars and dry pudding mix. Do not cook the pudding in advance. This will make for cookie yuckiness and defile the recipe.
After this is sufficiently mixed into a gritty, peanut buttery texture, add the eggs in, one by one. And then the vanilla can go in as well. Be generous with the vanilla. We like vanilla. Take a swig of the vanilla so that you can appreciate its wholesome goodness. Mix until combined and then slowly add in the flour combination, about a half a cup at a time. Once this is all mixed in, you can add your chocolate chips and boy parts if you'd like. Make sure to sample at least a quarter cup. Again, eggshell control and chocolate chip evaluation is an imperative part of chocolate chip cookie making. Screw salmonella, I can take a little bloody diarrhea with my cookies.
On a greased baking sheet, drop by rounded teaspoons giving each cookie about an inch and half space. Don't crowd your cookies. They don't like having other cookies all up in their grill. That's how they roll, yo.
Bake for about eight minutes. Do not leave the kitchen while they are baking lest you allow them to overcook and turn an improper shade of brown. When the cookies are somewhat flattened and look like they are not quite done, remove them from the oven and allow them to rest. Do not try to wake them by prematurely by removing them from their resting place. They just worked very hard and deserve to get some beauty sleep.
And beautiful they will be, when you do eventually place them on a sheet of waxed paper or plate. Repeat the process of baking and cooling, until you have approximately 1/2 cup of cookie dough left in the bowl. This is what I like to call the "bottom of the barrel" dough and should be consumed by the baker. Again, this is for quality control only. You're looking to make sure that your dough was consistently good throughout.
If you try this recipe, do me a favor and let me know what you think. I assure you that it's worth the time and energy.
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