Dinosaur Park

And so it goes...

1.  I have a new fantasy.  In this fantasy, I never wash clothes.  I know this is politically incorrect and environmentally insensitive and wasteful, so I send my personal apologies to Al Gore and all the sweat shops (at least I'm saving water!).  As with every fantasy, I have more money than Al Gore, sorry again Al.  So here it goes: We are enjoying a lovely family dinner, sipping on red grape juice and eating gourmet spaghetti with the reddest of all red sauces, wearing gleaming white shirts.  (Did I mention that I look like Gwenyth Paltrow only with bigger boobs?).  AND THEN, J wipes his hand on his shirt instead of his napkin, E misses a noodle and it ends up on her lap, and not to be outdone, K dribbles some grape juice on her shirt.  I look around for baby M and see only spaghetti, I move a few strands  on this heaping mound and see some eyes peaking out at me.  Max.   Instead of the usual freak out, I laugh in a  let-them-eat-cake-Marie-Antoinette-way and smile at their spaghetti stained shirts knowing that tomorrow I will just buy new clothes and donate these soiled items, along with my obsolete washer and dryer to the less fortunate.  After all, someone will have to wash those dirty things.  Maybe I should throw in my bleach pen and Zout for extra goodness?  

2.  Did you know that the idiot who pays our bills has been sending her money for the power bill to the wrong account?  I know.  What kind of idiot does that?   I think I should fire her. Good thing she figured it out on the morning they were going to shut off our power.  That would have been bad, really bad.  No A/C in the middle of the scorching hot Vegas summer. Maybe that girl should get some more sleep.  

3.  Never leave your pool for three weeks without hiring someone to take care of it for you.  Unless of course, you like swimming in green algae and replacing pool filters.  If you do, then go ahead.  After all, a little slime with your swim just makes it exciting.  

I'm back, well, sorta...

I've been trapped under a pile of laundry that won't go a way.  I promise pics from our unusually long vacation soon.   Well, as soon as I can find my way out.  And as soon as I pay all the bills that piled up while I was away.  And clean the floor so my sweet little guy doesn't eat all the dust bunnies.  And as soon as I visit Target so I can baby proof everything since he learned to crawl on vacation.  Oh, and as soon as I get some school shopping done for the little monsters.  And buy some milk. 

US

Create your own family sticker graphic at pYzam.com

The Question!

It happened.  I got the question.

The scene:  Happily driving the kids to the grocery store.  Not  a care in the world.   Feeling so good and righteous that I had the radio turned off and was actually talking to my children, even though a part of me had a great desire to be belting out Vampire Weekend songs.

Ella:  Mom, how does Heavenly Father put babies in a mommy's tummy?

Me: (heart pounding, sweating profusely) Ah, um...well, uh, you see...you have to grow up and get married and then you pray and hopefully, Heavenly Father sends you some children.

Kate: Mom, I need more details than that!

Me:  (Thinking: "Really, you do?  You're seven.") Okay, a Mom and a Dad each have special parts on their bodies and when they meet, it's possible to have a baby.  Hey, is that a bird flying in they sky over there? (They really like birds!)

Whew!  Hopefully, my bird subterfuge will buy me a few more years, so I can figure out what the HECK to say next time they want DETAILS.  

Tomorrow is the day...

Some of you may know that I have not eaten sugar for three plus months.  Well, It's my birthday and I'll eat sugar if I want to.  When you turn 33 years old, you just have to have  a treat to drown your sorrow in.  You ask yourself questions like, "How is this possible?" "How did I get so old?"  "Is that a new wrinkle?"  "Are my boobs saggy?" You realize that you have to enjoy life a little because soon you will be near death (a.k.a. 40!)  Think of me tomorrow night at my favorite Las Vegas buffet and give a little "oink", because I'll be PIGGING out.

P.S.  No cookies were harmed or eaten in the taking of this picture.  You cookies are all safe from me... at least until tomorrow night!  If you must know, my three little munchkins quickly devoured my cookie as soon as I was done taking the picture.  It was even difficult to get them to wait.  

Beans, beans the magical fruit...

Yes, I did really use that as my title.  

A couple of months ago, I was in a desperate situation.  I needed chocolate. BAD.  I had just started this sugar-free diet competition and was feeling in a very creative mood (read=crazy).  I was scouring the internet for healthy alternatives to the regular good stuff.  I found a recipe for Bean Brownies.  It sounded like a good idea.  I even read a glowing review of these things--just like regular brownies, thick and fudgy, perfect for a chocolate craving.   I could feel a little tickle of excitement in my taste-buds and I felt sure I had found the thing that would help me win this little competition.  Yes, my secret weapon. I could eat bean brownies until the cows came home while all my friends struggled with no sugar.  Soon, I would be the champion.  I would have a fancy crown and a sash that proclaimed my greatness.  Yes, (insert evil laughter and some hand rubbing here) this would be just the thing.  And so I faithfully blended up my black beans and made my brownies.  

While my fabulous fudgy creation cooked, I danced around the house in anticipation.  I even used them to bribe my kids into cleaning up messes.  AND IT WORKED!  These really must be the miracle of all miracle brownies, I thought. 

Fast forward thirty minutes of baking and cooling time.  I  quickly cut myself a piece and pop it in my mouth, before the kids notice they are out of the oven.  GAG.  GROSS.  Thick and Fudgy, they are not! Tasty, they are not!  Remotely like brownies, they are not!     Now I know why those Utah people say: "Oh, my Fudge" instead of swearing.  They must have been seduced by the bean brownie recipe, too.  

My kids are still traumatized by the Bean Brownie incident: If you are a reader of this blog, then you know that my sweet, trusting Ella requested brownies to celebrate her cast coming off. I made them for her and this is what happened:

Me:  Ella, why are you cutting your brownie up into such small pieces?

Ella:  I'm looking for beans.