The Birthday Party List

Two clues that you have perhaps not overly prepared for your daughter's birthday party:

Clue #1
Nanny: Hey, Andi? I promised Bookworm that I would help her with her Survivor birthday party, since I had one when I was little. I know her party's tomorrow night, so if you need me to go buy anything, or decorate, or whatever, just let me know and give me a list...

Clue #2
Friend: Hey, Andi? Bookworm called to invite Leah to her party. I was wondering if you were still having it, and if you were really having it, since I've never heard anything from you...

You see, Gentle Reader, until today I had done very little to prepare for my daughter's tenth birthday. In fact, the preparations I did do went something like this:

Me: Really? A Survivor party? That seems like a lot of work. Let's just have a pool party and be done with it.
Bookworm: I promise I'll do all the decorations and set everything up myself.

Well, since I'm obviously selfless and full of givingness, I agreed to this plan. Bookworm borrowed my phone last week to make some phone calls. She informed me of who had agreed to come. She had arranged date, time, and what they should bring (swimsuit, sleeping bag, pillow.)

I took her word for it, and left it at that.

Wait. Do you mean you might have sent out invitations, and perhaps spoke with the moms yourself to see if said girls are actually coming?

Phooey on that I say!

She's ten in two days! Practically grown! She can certainly plan her own party.

This week we began to discuss the cake. Now, as many of you know, my mother in law has been in ICU. Fortunately she was medi-flighted to my hospital (as opposed to another hospital in the area), so I've been able to check up on her, and the staff has kept me appraised of what's going on...However, I am still worried, and I'm still tired...

I felt perhaps in light of this situation, cupcakes would be easiest.

Bookworm wants a cake. I always make the cake, and I always try to put some thought into it so it can be extra special, and this is her tenth birthday, and I'm pretty sure I'm like in first runner up position for Mom of the Year and making a cake from scratch may tip me over into first place...

*Sigh*

I decided to make a cake. I got it made and frosted tonight. I have to add a few details to it tomorrow before the party. The party that falls on a day that I will work.

So, in a not so brief recap, I will share my list with you on how to have a successful party. Of course, considering we haven't had said party, and may in fact have only one child attending, I will let you know how this revolutionary new theory works.

1. Try to refuse a theme, but crumble.

2. Have your daughter text her friends invites to the party on their mother's phones. Invitations are a thing of the past people! And it wastes natural resources! See, I'm not lazy! I'm ecosmart!

3. Hire a nanny who tends to leave your house cleaner than when she came, and make sure she is aware that the bulk of all parenting responsibilities will now fall on her delicate 16 year old shoulders. This step is very crucial. Please do not miss it. I fear disaster will result in the party if she is not their to keep you on task and do whatever work you are too tired/lazy to get done yourself.

4. Make a cake the night before. The beauty of this is, it forced me to clean out some space in my fridge so I could store it there.

5. Leave a grocery list of Roll-os, large pretzel sticks, small pretzel sticks, and gummy fish for the nanny to retrieve for you...In all of her spare time left from decorating, cleaning your house, and possibly even erecting the tent, if you're really lucky.

6. Whine to our father-in-law when he drags his weary carcass into your house at 7:30 pm that you are exhausted and have no time for a party, but obviously you are the Mom of the Year, and so you will make a cake. From scratch.

7.Decide to do a post on your wonderful plans for the wonderful party you have actually had very little to do with, and publish it for all the blogosphere to admire your absolute awesomeness.

Hidey Hoe Neighbor! How Goes Thou Summer?

Okay, maybe I misspelled Hidey Hoe...But doesn't the "thou" simply HAVE to be included in the next sentence?

I'm glad you agree...

So. I've been busy this summer...

I don't know what I did, but I'm suffering from severe burnout on my life in general, and as far as I can tell, I haven't actually finished anything I've started....

I made lots of jelly...It's still sitting on the hutch in my dining room along with a pile of Archies I need to carry to the attic and swap out for a new stack for the girls to read...

I have to make more jelly with this juice still sitting in my fridge, taking up precious room in an already overcrowded space...

We started painting the house. We are basically done except this one stretch over my daughter's window...

Please don't tell my brother in law that we have yet to finish after he drove 5 hours to get here and help us get the majority done...

We (meaning Studmuffin) tore out a yucky flower bed that Holly had torn up. He then prepped the ground and I helped him put in the flagstone and sweep in some crushed granite between...Notice I've neglected to scoop that last pile of granite...

We made a fire pit...Okay, Studmuffin made a fire pit...He's going to take small pieces of flagstone to fasten on the top to make it, I don't know what it's supposed to make it, but it's sure to be great!
However, we have yet to finish this particular project...

I planted a garden. A garden I have no time or energy for. Therefore, it is sad and neglected. And full of weeds. I'm asking myself why I planted a garden. And, we had record rain and high winds, which gave my tomatoes fungus and blew what blooms were there off. I did pull off the dead leaves, but I don't know if they'll recover...

I'm sick of squash.

On a lighter note, the girls have accomplished a lot this summer...Popcorn's hair went from sandy blond to green and is now a lovely honey color...

Bookworm turns 10 Saturday. She has big plans for her party. The theme is Survivor. I say the mother who survives this party that will follow a week of her mother in law in ICU without losing her temper will be the greatest survivor...

Submitting...

To directions that is.

Just thought you might be interested to know that I whipped up a batch of jelly with my sand plum juice, and FOLLOWED DIRECTIONS FOR THE WHOLE THING...

Shocking. I know.

Now, I only need to clean my kitchen, clean out my kids drawers (I promised myself I'd do this while they're gone...It's kind of hard to check off all of my to-do's since I've been working all week!) put sheets back on the bed, clean my floors, and finally face the outdoors...

I plan to mow in this wretched heat.

And this evening I WILL tackle the garden...

And of course, fit my walk in with my friend!

Do you think that if I share my plans with you I will be more accountable to actually DO them? Because, I really just want to go float in the pool.

Adventures in Jam Making

I still haven't made salsa.

My garden is a complete wreck. I was supposed to clean it up today...However, the internet people were coming out, and so I made the mistake of beginning housework. My house is also a wreck...

I had received a half a brown paper sack of plums from Mom when I dropped the girls off with her Sunday (the nanny is gone to camp, so I had to enlist the backups...) On a completely sort of related note, my mom was a tad irritated to learn I forgot to bring her a bag of tomatoes, considering she spent an entire morning picking sand plums for me... Go figure.

Anyway, last night I had anticipated my plan to make plum jam & jelly. So, at 9:34 (as evidenced by the clock on my stove), after walking for an hour with my neighbor and helping my hubby with the new fire pit he built and moving old brick from an eyesore, and of course being on my feet at work all day, I decided to put the plums on to cook. Mom had instructed me to cook them, then just cover the pot and leave them to cool overnight...


As you can see, I felt the need to eat plums as I was sorting through them as they started to cook (my method was reaching in with my hand and stirring them around to find any leaves I missed...) Just FYI, I ate 3 wedges of cantaloupe yesterday, a sandwich baggy full of cherries, and then these plums. Do you think I got my daily fiber in?


Mom had promised I would just know when they were done. I guess she was right!

Then, this morning, as I decided to start the process, I got out my directions from the SureJell box...PANIC!!! I had covered the plums in water. It said to only had 1 1/2 cups...Oops.



I drained the water/juice mixture off through a tea towel placed in a large mixing bowl. This made about 16 cups of juice. I then got out my colander and began to pit my plums. I gotta confess, I was about to weep because I figured I'd wrecked the whole thing when I used too much water. After my mom had gone to the trouble of picking them for me...How ungrateful and irresponsible...I hate wasting food...Also, I will confess to irritation, because I've already made apricot jam, which I'm pretty sure is going to be too thick, although I haven't' opened one of the full jars I made, just sampled the leftover I'd placed in a bowl. Plus, I literally have 6 gallon bags of pureed tomatoes in my fridge with tons of peppers also frozen, waiting until I have time to assemble salsa...

I was feeling very stressed as I jammed that pestle into the colander, pitting my plums. I tried venting my irritation on those poor little plums...It wasn't working. It was time for desperate measures!

Of course I called my mom!

It turns out she had TOLD me to cover the plums, so I could have more juice for jelly! See! I don't move ahead impulsively! I remember the instructions given to me by my wise mother!


So, since I'm such an uber prepared cook, and never proceed half cocked, without proper supplies, and certainly not without proper knowledge of what to do, I decided to make jam. Especially since I only had one box of pectin, and my friend Inga had always told me I didn't need pectin to make jam. I dumped in about 10 cups of crushed plums...

Now, remember, I have no internet access at this point. My sister Dawn, who is the librarian and therefore the giver of all knowledge, did not answer her phone. I didn't dare call my mom and let her know I was proceeding with only a vague plan in place. Inga had always said, "Just put in your fruit, then sugar, and cook it down, then can it!" I decided to believe her.

The box of pectin said to add 8 cups of sugar for 5 cups of fruit for cooked jam. I added about 7 cups of sugar, and decided it was sweet enough for my 10 cups of fruit...Again, I'm nothing if not prepared and full of knowledge, whether made up or real...

I brought the mixture to a boil, and tasted it....It was good! I decided that I was probably just supposed to let it cook down until it was thick enough...So I turned it down to simmer. Apparently I'm really good at making decisions regarding things I really have no clue about!

Guess what? I sorted through a desk full of paperwork, did three loads of laundry, and cooked myself some pasta salad in the middle of this, then decided to install the new internet provider onto my computer...

After installing the internet, I googled "how to make plum jam without pectin."

PANIC!!!!

I was not doing it AT ALL how they said. Most of the sites recommended something to do with boiling and reaching 220 degrees. Luckily I had a candy thermometer that had been moved 3 times and never removed from the package! I busted that puppy out, tied a string around it and to the handle of my pot, then returned the mixture to a boil...

One site recommended putting a small sample in the freezer for a minute, and when it gels, it's done...Of course, I was supposed to have been boiling this mixture and stirring it constantly in this process...We won't dwell on the fact that I was starving at this point and made pasta salad at this time...

I boiled and boiled. I stirred and stirred. The blasted thermometer never got above 210. Dang. The jam got sorta thick in the freezer.

I was tired of this whole debacle. My neck and shoulders were aching from stirring and stress...I was hot...

I decided to proceed with canning the mixture...

And, now my kitchen looks like this, while I'm posting this story for you!


Side Note: I have all the juice from the mixture in juice bottles in my fridge. I will attempt jelly later on, and will attempt to follow directions accordingly...

I'll let you know how that works out for me.

Hey, do I seem to have a plethora of dot dot dots in this post, or what?

The Spaghetti Debacle of 2007

I know this story is going to be disturbing for many of you.

You see, you will be astonished to learn that Studmuffin and I have the occasional argument. Not the typical, he loves to see me annoyed (for some weird reason he thinks that's cute) so he does everything in his power to irritate me. Granted, those disagreements often end in me wanting to throw something at him, or shove his nose up into his brain just to get him to stop pestering me...Oops, did I just type that out loud? But they aren't real arguments. Those are more an example of our open, honest communication between two loving people....

These are real, genuine, authentic, all out arguments. Complete with heated words and regrettable comments that you wish you could pull back and erase the whole incident.

I'm about to share one such incident with you. Of course, I have no idea what the fight was about. I only remember the events that occurred during and after the fight.

The vision is so clear. I was in the kitchen cleaning up dinner. We had eaten spaghetti (hence the title), and I do remember that Studmuffin had gotten home late. However, this was a common occurrence in those days. He was at the bar (in the kitchen, not the saloon, silly!) NO doubt forced to sit there to spend quality time with me while I cleaned up the kitchen from the meal he was too tired to eat, when all he really wanted to do was collapse on the couch and veg out in front of the TV...

Gentle Reader, I'm not defending my position or his in this story. I'm just stating facts here, from a completely UNBIASED point of view. Okay, since I'm the rambler in this story, the story may not be completely unbiased...

Anyhoo, he's sitting at the bar. I am cleaning the kitchen. I had unintentionally made entirely too much spaghetti. I could not save it because it had sat out too long while I was waiting on him, and it was pretty much ruined. Hmm, I wonder if that's why he was too tired to eat it? I began to put the spaghetti down the disposal.

Correction: I began to CRAM the spaghetti down the disposal...

Without it running...

I continued to nag and gripe and be a general shrew....

I dumped in the pan of sauce...

I took my hand and began to manually SHOVE that spaghetti into the disposal (told you I made too much!)...

I rolled my eyes...

I made rude comments...

I snorted at his utter male stupidity...

In a moment of glorious rage, I slapped the faucet on and flipped on the disposal...

A horrendous noise came from underneath the sink.

Spaghetti flew up out of the disposal and into the air.

Spaghetti came out the opposite drain and hit the window...

The arguing stopped...An ominous silence fell over the kitchen.

With fear and trembling I opened the cabinet door and peaked inside...

The entire garbage disposal had flown apart, and spaghetti was EVERYWHERE...

In order to calm myself, and to avoid the wrath that I figured was about to come down on me, I escaped to the bathroom, ostensibly to get some towels to clean up the mess (I seem to remember we were out of paper towels.)

I had not bothered to tell my beloved, if rather angry at this moment in time, hubby where I was going, and what my thought process was...

I later learned he had thought I created the huge mess and fled the scene of the crime for good.

I took a moment to compose myself and come up with some excuse for my actions while simultaneously lecturing myself to not say the things I was thinking at that precise moment.

I returned to the kitchen armed with a stack of towels.

I was astounded to discover Studmuffin with his head under the cabinet, throwing everything underneath out...Literally.

He was throwing anything his hands came across behind him, to land wherever, complete with spaghetti noodles and marinara sauce...

Spaghetti was all over the kitchen.

On the refrigerator. On the walls. In the pantry (of course the door was open). The floor. The cabinets...You get the picture. It was a giant spaghetti explosion.

I didn't say a word. Shocking, I know.

I took the towels and began to clean up the spaghetti....

He reassembled the plumbing to the sink.

I had literally blown the garbage disposal off the pipes, and burst apart the place where the two sinks drains join to one pipe thingy...

A few hours of cleaning and repairing passed...

He calmed down.

I calmed down.

I finally said, "You know, this may have been a teeny bit easier to clean up if we didn't have spaghetti to clean up off the walls now..."

He said, "You know, we wouldn't be doing this at all if you hadn't been shoving spaghetti down the sink like a crazy woman. Don't EVER put spaghetti down the disposal again."

And we finally looked at each other.

And we started laughing.

Hysterically.

And we kissed and made up...

But to this day if I make spaghetti he tells me, "Do NOT put that down the disposal..."

Every. Single. Time.

Salsa and a Post Revisited

Last Thursday I ran out and picked the garden before a storm came rolling in...The downpour started as I stepped in the house.

Do you think it's time to make salsa?

In other news, the storm wasn't a gentle rain....

Yes, I let my kids play in it...

Unfortunately I forgot they had brand new clothes on...

Guess where all some of this lake drained into?

That's right! My septic tank. Unfortunately, this meant I was unable to wash the brand new, clothes.

On a brighter note, I've decided to copy and paste an old post for you. I needed a laugh, and I'm sure you do too, so here ya go!

Oh, and here's a link in case you want to click it and read the original. But since I know 99.9% of you can't be bothered with extra clicks, here it is:

Studmuffin graciously read my post this evening...and he promptly asked "You didn't mention me falling off of the boat?"

What?

What is wrong with me?! I completely forgot to share his humiliation...AHA!!! Payback for the beating from the tube ride...Christian virtues, out the window, prepare to laugh at someone other than me...

So, we pulled into a lovely little cove to eat our noon meal. The scene was idyllic, no other boats around, nice break from the wind....

"Hand me the anchors, Babe."

"Sure thing Studmuffin!" I tremblingly (hey, a new word) hefted them out from the cargo space under the front seats. He threw the first one in off of the back and secured it. I began preparing our lovely meal of premade sandwiches, apple slices and Nacho Cheese Doritos...

SPLASH!!!

Man, that anchor sure mad a loud splash, I thought to myself. I continued about my Proverbs 31 duties...Her children fear no hunger...

"MOM!!! DAD FELL IN THE LAKE!"

"What?!" And I looked behind me, and sure enough, he was gone....And he wasn't coming up....So, I waited.

And waited.

Started to get a tad concerned....

At last he surfaced, HOLDING THE BLOODY 15 POUND ANCHOR IN HIS HANDS!!!!!!!

It seems that he accidentally fell in when a passing boat's wake knocked him off balance. He was afraid of losing his $12 anchor, so he held on for dear life and swam to the surface....

Gentle Reader...He has increased his ranking as the King of Cheap....

He would rather drown than lose a $12 anchor....

His obituary would have read, "He was found on the bottom of the lake clinging to an anchor. His wife reported that she heard a loud splash but was too busy preparing lunch to take note of her husband's unfortunate plummet."

You wanna know what's sad? He was in 7 foot of water....The anchor had a 30 foot NYLON rope attached. I suspect it may have floated to the top even without his help. It seems that was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

More on Studmuffin's tendency to fall out of the boat:

2 years ago he bought a casting net. He had never used one before. He went to neatly toss it out, and fell in right behind it. The water was so shallow he landed on his butt on the bottom of the lake. His buddies with him said, "So, did you see any shad down there?"

The second time he fell in was a whopping 10 minutes later....casting the net again.

So, it seems he has mastered falling out of the boat!

A Laundry Strike

Dear Family:

Effective immediately, I will no longer be turning every piece of laundry right side out as I am folding it. This means one sock will be right side out, one not. Your panties will be wrong side out. Your shorts will be neatly folded, and placed on your bed for YOU to put away wrong side out!

Unless of course, miracles begin to rain down from heaven, and you stop pulling every stitch of clothing off of your body in such a way that it ends up wrong side out. In this highly unlikely scenario, you will find your clothes neatly folded and lying on your bed RIGHT side out.

Revolutionary, I know.

Darling Studmuffin. You are the best. I truly could not ask for a better husband. However, in light of the stance I am taking with our precious daughters, I find it only fair to hang up your polo shirts wrong side out. Your underwear will not be simply pull from drawer and wear. No. You will now have to stop and turn right side out EVERY. SINGLE. PAIR. Unless of course, by some amazing occurrence you decide not to wad them up in a ball of wrong-side-outness as you take them off...

And, yes I did just discuss your underwear habits with the entire blogosphere as a witness...

Truly, I'm sorry to take such a drastic stance, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Bookworm, I realize that finding your clothes wrong side out is going to totally upset the perfect balance of orderliness and cleanliness that is your room. For this, I can only say: TURN YOUR CLOTHES RIGHT SIDE OUT WHEN YOU THROW IT IN THE HAMPER!!!! Lo and Behold, your clothes will once again be magically right side out when you put them away.

Precious Popcorn, I also realize that you will probably not bother to correct any of the wrong side out clothes as you put them away. In fact, I am already quite sure you will wear your socks and underwear wrong side out, rather than be troubled to correct them. I have decided I'm okay with this. Inevitably this will result in your socks & underwear being RIGHT side out every other time you wear them...

Just as a quick recap/reminder: The laundry fairy does not come to our house. If you need something clean, put it in the hamper. Tell me you are out of clean pants/shorts whatever, and I will be more than happy to launder it. However, since the laundry fairy has failed to show up these past 14 years, you WILL be required to put away your own laundry, and possibly fold it on occasion.

Thank you for your attention and assistance in the above matter.

Sincerely,

The Laundress, AKA, your wife and mother

How to Have a Safe and Happy Independence Day

Here you see the children lined up. Begging to begin the big show. Or at least a sparkler or two. Never mind that it's not dark. They are ready for some action!

See that travel trailer right there in that there background? That would be my sister Paula's. We lived in it for several months during our transition back to Oklahoma. I say you haven't lived until you've gone through tornado season in a travel trailer!

Also, please be advised that underneath that trailer was the "storage" for the fireworks during the big show. This tended to get a bit scary when a misfire resulted in hot embers landing in the box of fireworks. Under the trailer. Right where the propane tanks are...

We are nothing if not safety first in this family!

Here is the line of spectators, gearing up for the main event. Guess what? When a firework misfires and explodes from the bottom up, directly INTO the crowd, it's pretty hard to scramble out of your chair and to safety when you're all lined up nice and tight like that!

There were lectures on firework safety from the resident safety expert/master rule follower.

A wild game of whiffle (wiffle? whiffle? waffle? whittle? waddle? I have no idea how to spell this word) ball was played. The rules were simple. There are no teams. The goal is to get out whoever is at bat/on base. You are allowed to throw the ball AT the runner to tag them out. If the fielders are being too slow to get said ball and tag out the runner, the pitcher may grab any one of the balls next to him on the "mound" and tag out the runners...

Pretty much, it's every player against the current runner. As you can imagine, it was rather difficult to get a run.

Popcorn made the sacrifice of putting on old clothes to play in the sprinkler with her little cousin. What a giver. Yep. I'm just raisin' these kids to be selfless that way...

Grandma Irene, reining queen of our clan was there to monitor the festivities and make sure we played nice. I'm not sure she was entirely successful.

Laughing bloggers took pictures of laughing bloggers.

Rednecks. 'Nuff said.

Oh, and just so you know, this is Brad, you might remember him from the Journey of the Sun Dolphin. And that is Paula, the sister who doesn't blog...

And yes, he is wearing a headlamp. The better to light the Redneck 9 Shot firework that exploded from the bottom, and shot into our crowd of spectators...

Yes, we had an EXPLOSIVELY good time this Independence Day. Not too sure about the safe part. But it was definitely happy! And exciting!

And dangerous...

And hair raising....

So. How was YOUR fourth?

Peach Pie Ponderings.

We had a big ole throw down Fourth out at my parents...

The kind where my mom was blessed to have children who invited their in-laws to her house to blow hundreds of dollars worth of fireworks up in smoke...

Mom was afraid we would run out of food. Let's just say there was no danger of THAT happening.

Did you know I have a peach tree? It's tiny. However, we had a bumper crop for such a tiny tree. The branches were dragging the ground. I picked peaches and headed to my folks Friday evening...

Since Mom was afraid she would run out of food, and due to the fact that my dad threatened to throw out her apricots if she didn't start doing something with them, (apparently he was overlooking the jars of jelly and apricot sauce she canned last week) Mom decided to bake some pies.

Look at that pie! Isn't it gorgeous? Doesn't it look like someone who knows what they're doing made it? Like a real pie baker type person?

Now, let's transition to my pie....

I love a flaky crust. However, in my vast pie baking experience, (which isn't all that vast, as I only make pies about 6 times a year) a flaky crust is more difficult to work with. It often turns out a tad ugly. And the crust tears. And it's hard to repair....

Desperation can lead to all sorts of creativity...

My crust had all sorts of flaws. So, I decided to cut out stars (with the help of my sister) to mask the flaws...Aren't I clever?

And, now, for your reading edification, I will share a conversation between my sister Paula and I, as I make this masterpiece of a peach pie...

Paula: So, what are you going to put in this pie?

Me: Peaches.

Paula (pausing, looking thoughtful): Are we supposed to put something else in there?

Me: Nah..... At least, I don't think so. You just put peaches in a cobbler, so I'm guessing you just put peaches in a pie.

Paula appears doubtful, but as she is NOT the bossy sister in this family, she diplomatically drops it. Let's have a moment of silence and admiration for people who know better, but are able to keep their mouths shut....

And let their sister learn on her own....

Confession: I have never made a peach pie. The cook book was on the counter next to me. But, clearly, looking at an actual RECIPE for peach pie was entirely too much trouble....

Fast forward to evening...Mom is industriously scrubbing on a cookie sheet.

Me: What got all over that?

Mom: Oh, one of the pies overflowed. It started dripping in the oven, then I put this in to catch the rest.

Me: Oh. Was it my pie? I noticed that it looked like it had boiled over. (I had left the pie in my mom's capable hands while I went to spend a few hours at my grandma's. I love being the youngest of four children, and perfectly willing to let everyone else take care of my responsibilities...)

Mom: Yep. Those sure were juicy peaches! How much flour did you put in them to help thicken the pie?

Me: Flour? I didn't put ANY flour in there. Paula actually made mention that maybe something should go in the pie besides peaches, but I couldn't be bothered to look at an actual recipe. Or ask you. I just dumped them in, threw the other crust on, and called it good.

Mom: (Sadly, there is no dialogue to add here. She was bent over the sink laughing, unable to speak.)

However, in MY defense, I think the pie was pretty stinkin' good.

If a bit runny.