Friday, August 31, 2012

A million excuses....

I have a million excuses. Achy throbbing IT band. A pill that my (not-so-helpful-but-well-intentioned) doctor put me on that made me hurt with every step. Twelve hour workdays/commutes. Overwhelming stuff on the homefront. The desire to pull the feather comforter over my head. Coyotes outside in the morning. Pitbulls chasing after us, stopped only by the grace of God. Forgetting my running shoes. Buying good running shoes that are actually really bad running shoes.


Thursday, August 30, 2012

Slice o'Heaven...

Admit it. You want a slice of pie now...


That, dearies, is chocolate pie. And not just any old chocolate pie, but MEMA'S CHOCOLATE PIE. Oh em gee, this is the stuff that legends are made of, this pie.

I grew up eating three kinds of pie. Chocolate pie, coconut cream pie, and pecan pie. All Mema's recipes or mi madre's spin on them. All heavenly and all hard to keep my finger or fork out of when pulled out of the oven.

I am a bad bad mama, because I tend to think of food as fuel, and I tend to buy whole foods. Except for Nutella, I know, I know. When we trekked to Mema's house a couple of Thanksgivings ago, Mema made chocolate pie. Timesboy went NUTS. Absolutely bonkers. He wanted to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dessert.

I then had to admit to both Mema and my mother that I had never made a chocolate pie for my monkeys. Never even tried. I made pumpkin pie and a (always failing to properly set) pecan pie at Thanksgiving. That's it.

Needless to say, I left with the promise that I would make the kiddo a chocolate pie with Mema's recipe, at least occasionally. I tried once, last year, but it was a horrible soupy mess of a failure.

Last weekend, I discovered what went wrong with my pie. Cornstarch, or a lack of cornstarch... Mema patiently walked me through the recipe once again. And Timesboy had three pieces of pie. And a promise that I will try again :-)

Monday, August 27, 2012

Family we make

"Friends are the family that we choose."

I love this saying. I have friends that are my family. Friends that I would donate a kidney to, walk through fire for, and spy on bad boyfriends with. I have friends who have known me since my buck-toothed, bad bangs perm days. Friends who have held my hand through the bad and the heartbreak, and are there through all of the sickness- they are my strength when I am weak. Friends who have kicked my arse into gear when I need it, in a loving way.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

What a weekend!

What a weekend this was...

I did picklebacks with Jesus.

Steuben's special. Jameson's with a chaser of pickle juice.
Yep, that really is a drink. And I now know that you could drink ANYTHING and pickle juice will completely kill the taste. I am still undecided on whether this is a good or a bad thing.

And confession...

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Serious medical forms


Welcome to one of fifty-nine pages of required reading/filling out for my monkey to go to high school. Whoever created these forms OBVIOUSLY neither had a teenager nor a sense of humor. Because if they did, they would know that putting "ADD, ADHD, Depression, Mood Disorder, and Neurological Disorder" on said form is almost comic relief.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Spoonful of Love

Dear Buttercups,

I love you. I love political discourse. I love Jon Stewart and Tina Fey and Fox and BBC- God help me, I love em all. I love that we live in a nation where I will not be buried up to my neck and stoned to death for leaving He Who Must Not Be Named. I also love spoonfuls of Nutella, but I digress...

I have staunch Republican friends. I have strong Democrat friends. I have friends who have helped perform abortions, believers in a woman's right to choose. I have friends who lobby before Congress for Right to Life movements, and have made it their life's work.

I have friends who are ministers, who are faith through works. I have friends who will tell you that Science is their only religion, that there is no God.

I have family members who wear overalls to work, who are salt-of-the-earth. I have friends who are in the upper echelons of academia, who look down from that oft-mocked Ivory Tower.

I have friends who have probably never knowingly encountered a gay person. I have gay and lesbian friends who I've thrown baby showers and wedding parties for.

What I mean to say, is I have friends and loved ones from every walk of life. Every belief system imaginable, and probably a few beyond my imagination. At the end of the day, no matter where you are walking, please remember, we are all in this together. We can disagree on things, we can vehemently disagree on politics and beliefs. We can also be civil in our disagreements.

Remember, we have freedom of belief and freedom of speech, but we also have responsibilities to be wise with our words and our actions. Remember to be kinder than you may feel. Remember we are all fighting our own battles, some of which will never see the light of day. And, remember to be the light, whether you are a Republican, Democrat, Evangelical Christian, Pagan, overall-wearing oil field worker, a Suit, or a WoW playing geek.

Be the light. Peace and love and spoonfuls of Nutella, y'all!




Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Lara's Ballish Bars.

Eventually, I will truly, cross my heart and hope to die or stick a needle in my eye, give y'all the recipe for my Beet Bowl. Really, pinky swear.

However, tonight, you get homemade cashew cookie Lara bars. I double dog dare you not to eat em all in one sitting. Not that I have ever done that...

Ingredients, give or take...

-One overflowing cup of dried dates, coursely chopped. (Make sure they are pitted. Obvious to most of us, but I speak from experience when I say they are brutal on your blades. Ahem.)
-One quarter cup of coconut- I use real flaked coconut, but the sweetened stuff would probably taste good also. Hard to mess up here, peeps.
-One quarter cup of raw cashews. 
-A dash of salt. Use good salt, please. It makes a difference.
-Two teaspoons of vanilla

Combine everything in a food chopper, Magic Bullet, blender, anything with blades...
If you have ever eaten a Lara bar, you will see the consistency come together in your chopper/blender in about forty five seconds. Again, hard to go wrong here :-)

VOILA!!!

They kinda look like meatballs, don't they? That would be because I am too lazy to shape bars. But Lara's balls just sounds sort of wrong. We are just going to call them Lara's Ballish Bars. There. Done.

Peace and love and yummy stuff, buttercups. 

On my motherly failings...

My failings as a mother became painfully obvious yesterday when I told my daughter to 'nut up or shut up' via text. Granted, I was trying to make a valid point in a humorous way by quoting her favorite movie, but still.. The fact that I quoted this-


Saturday, August 4, 2012

Happy Saturday!


Heaven in Colorado is an excellent cup of coffee, my laptop, and a place to watch the world go by.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Pepa

My cousin posted yesterday on my Facebook wall. A very simple and short post.

"Juicy Fruit and the smell of sawdust remind me of Pepa."



Wow, the memories that her one little post unleashed for all of us.

Dominoes and skipbo and pink stucco houses. Hot yeast rolls and strong coffee and warming blankets. Climbing on roofs. Nilla wafers and motorhomes and his buttondown shirts.

I fel asleep last night wandering through my memories like a favorite old book. Walking through Pepa's garden as he showed me his hard work- those roses, Brooke! Visiting his wood shop, where he was making a piece of furniture from old fence pieces- Pepa was a hipster waaaaaay before it was cool. His old pointy-toed cowboy boots and bright white tennis shoes side by side in front of the glass front door. How much he LOVED Mema's cooking- panfried zucchini, butter beans and cornbread, biscuits and gravy first thing in the morning.

I remember how he was larger than life for most of my own, but I also remember how he could slow down and spend hours watching the wrens nest in gourds on his patio. I remember how much he loved Lucky, who is now my faithful friend.

Thank you, Brooke. You reminded me how important family is and I cannot wait to rush home and see Mema. I shall bring dominoes, skipbo cards, zucchini from my garden, and my camera. I will not, as I said last night, be climbing roofs. No matter how hard you try to talk me into it...

Best Love Song EVER. With whistling, no less...

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Bounty

Gold beets, purple carrots, red watercress...

...make for a happy happy girl, again! It's all about the beets.

Budgeting Blues

Real money, only in our grubby little paws for seconds. Darn it.


I hate budgeting. HATE it. It  makes me feel all panicky and stabby. Left over from my B-R-O-K-E days, I put off checking the mail for weeks. Like a little kid playing hide-and-seek, if I don't see the bills, they won't see me. Makes sense, right?

But, I know that I need to pay them, and the sooner I pay them the better. So I sit. And I open them up. I make my little piles- To Pay, To Do, To Hide, To Throw Away, and To Keep Me Up at Night. When I get to this piling stage, I have moved from the little kid to the high-schooler-avoiding-writing-a-paper stage. I can spend hours here, like if I stack them neatly, I might get bonus points and money off. Rawr.