Daily Archives : Page 72 of 110 : Fluid Pudding

Seven. It seems old, because it’s the first age with two syllables.

Saturday is Harper’s seventh birthday. Sunday is Meredith’s ninth birthday.

Because I can’t deal with having too many things going on at once, I decided to let Harper have her friend party this past weekend. This coming weekend will be the family party. Next weekend will be Meredith’s party. (Who am I kidding?! Every DAY is a stinking party at our house! Not really!)

I told Harper she could invite three friends over, and that we would decide what to do based on how many friends will be joining us. She told me that since it’s her first sleepover at our house, she would rather have one friend over, and do a bigger party with more friends some other time. (She’s just like me. Easily overwhelmed. This evening I’m running a meeting at a restaurant and six people will be there and all of my work is done, yet I’m already thinking things like, “What if it’s loud?” and “What if I fall down and/or do that crying thing with my voice?” I know. At least I KNOW that I’m ridiculous. BUT, would it be better to NOT know, and just be ridiculous? I KNOW I shouldn’t eat an entire pecan pie. NOT knowing that I shouldn’t would be a lifestyle game changer. Where was I?)

Harper chose a friend. We picked that friend up on Saturday afternoon and headed straight to one of those places where you pay entirely too much money to paint ceramics. (My mom used to run a ceramics shop out of our basement when I was a kid. When I told her that I paid $21 to paint a mug for myself, she gasped. “That shouldn’t have cost more than six dollars.” She then said something about how Coco painted a set of mugs for Ice once and how he responded with “I love ’em all. I love ’em crazily!”) After the ceramics, we came home and ate pizza. When the pizza was finished, we jumped into the car and headed out to The Melting Pot to dip strawberries and marshmallows and cheesecake and brownies and bananas and more into two big pots of chocolate. (One of which was set on FIRE!)

Okay. I’m about to turn into a Pinterest mom. Buckle up.

On the way home from The Melting Pot, we stopped by a craft store to buy plain t-shirts, iron-on rhinestones, and medicine droppers.

Two hours later, we had Sharpie tie-dyed t-shirts!

I ironed the rhinestones onto Harp’s friend’s t-shirt yesterday morning. The finished shirt looks like this:

When the shirts were done, the girls were getting tired. SO, we decided to make fairy jars! I took a few glow sticks and cut off the tips. I then shook the sticks into the jars, and found that nothing was coming out. SO, I cut off the tips from the other side of the sticks. The glowing goop splattered out onto my Ben Folds Choking Lady t-shirt, which made me flip out on the inside. When I shook the sticks into the jars, the stuff STILL wouldn’t come out. SO, I put my mouth around the glow sticks and blew the goop into the spice jars. (I was still tasting the glowing goop at three in the morning, and that’s when I started wondering if it was toxic. And then I started comparing UPS shipping times with planning a funeral, because I had ordered a pretty awesome dress earlier in the evening, and if at all possible, I want that dress to be my visitation dress if the glow sticks are going to be my ticket out.)

Luckily, the phrase “met her demise after blowing glow sticks into fairy jars” probably won’t appear on my obituary. (I just read an article about metastasis, by the way. This may or may not have something to do with time-released glow stick poison and my fear of glowing from within.)

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American Girl Bistro? The Puddings want to live inside of you.

Do you remember last summer when we drove to Kansas City to visit the American Girl store? If I had become pregnant during that trip, I would be preparing to give birth right about now!

Coincidentally, St. Louis is currently preparing for the grand opening of their very first American Girl store! On Saturday morning, the front door will open, and hundreds of American Girls will fly out!

Fun Fact: If you enter an American Girl store and purchase a baby plus all of the things the baby will need (high chair, bed, clothes, etc.), you will spend more money than Jeff and I did when we welcomed Meredith into the world! And that included a five day hospital stay! (Okay. We had good insurance. But still!)

ANYWAY, because Meredith and Harper love the American Girl dolls, books, and movies, they were absolutely thrilled when the new St. Louis store was announced. They were even MORE thrilled when we were invited to be test customers at the American Girl Bistro this afternoon. (Get this: I picked the girls up from school almost two hours early to eat at the bistro. That is NOT the kind of mom I am! I schedule their dentist appointments on days when there is no school! What are you doing to me, American Girl?)

We arrived at the store early enough to do a bit of browsing before we ate.

(The bistro was running about 45 minutes behind on the reservations, so we actually had time to do a LOT of browsing before we ate. As you can tell by Harper’s face, we didn’t mind a bit.)

(Please know that I’m really not liking Flickr’s new photo editing options. I’m no good at it! Argh! But back to my story!)

Check it out. This is McKenna. She is the Girl of the Year for 2012, and she’s a gymnast, and she has a really amazing purple loft bed, and she’s injured.

(Because Harper’s heart bleeds (and rejoices!) when anyone is suffering from a bum wheel, we actually came home with a set of American Girl crutches this afternoon. They will go very well with the American Girl wheelchair that Harper purchased last summer. I’m not kidding about this.)

The six of us (four humans, two dolls) were eventually seated, and it was 100% heartwarming (and slightly weird, but you just have to go with it) when the girls’ dolls were treated like real people. (When the server brought our drinks, she brought teacups for the dolls and mentioned that they looked thirsty. This is when I began to cry. (Not really.) (But almost.))

We started our meal with a curly fry appetizer. (We had ordered fruit kebobs, but when the server brought fries, it almost seemed like she knew us better than we know ourselves. Sure, we pretend to want fruit, but really? Yes. The fries hit the spot.)

I decided to go with the afternoon tea platter as my meal option, mainly because I’m a sucker for meals served on a tower with a pot of steaming chai.

The bottom layer? Fruit kebob and yogurt. In the middle? Two cheese and tomato star sandwiches and a tiny bowl filled with the best macaroni and cheese I’ve had in a long time. On top? A chocolate chip cookie, a brownie, and a cupcake. Perfection.

When Meredith finished her meal, she proclaimed it to be the best meal she has had in her life. In her LIFE!

On the way home, Harper said that today was the greatest day ever.

The grand opening is Saturday. I highly recommend the macaroni. (And the crutches.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Three Things for Wednesday

1. I am now the proud keeper of my medical records, and I didn’t have to pay a dime for them. This just reinforces my belief that life is so much easier when people are kind to one another. I was kind. The medical records lady was kind. As a result of all of the kindness, I treated myself to a chai latte and a naked burrito, and am getting ready to head to my favorite vegan restaurant for hummus and knitting. Today is a good day. (By the way, if you haven’t read the comments to my post from yesterday, please do. Kelly’s comment (#27) changed me. It’s always good to hear what’s happening on the other side.)

2. I finished a cotton Liesl to wear over tank tops because I’m not happy with my upper arm jingle jangle. (I’m not sure why I’m standing like that.)

This evening I’ll be knitting on a sock whose partner has been waiting for over four years. It’s time to finish what I’ve started.

3. I cannot get enough of this song.

I’m liking the entire album, but this particular song is speaking to me today. (Actually, it spoke to me at least ten times today as I made the trip to the doctor’s office and back and to lunch and back and school and back.) The way the singer handles the phrase “This I know” at 0:59 gives me happy shivers. (Sometime I’ll tell you about how Les McKeown from the Bay City Rollers sang the word “right” and how the way he sang that word intrigued me so much (at age 6) that I spent days listening to nothing but the first fifteen seconds of the song over and over again—just to hear that word.) (If the acoustic live version is a bit too screamy for you, go here. So good. I love this one, too, mainly because Harper mentioned that it sounds like it could be a new theme for The Lion King.)

4. I know I said three. This one doesn’t really count. I just want to make it official that I’m growing out my hair. Starting yesterday. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Break-ups and Hoops and Gas and The President!

As you know, my orthopedic doctor appointment was scheduled for 9:00 this morning.

(Fourteen people just clicked away. That first sentence isn’t very compelling, is it? Here. Let’s move faster.)

I shaved my legs this morning.

I dropped the kids off at school and hauled it to my appointment so I wouldn’t be late.

I signed in at 8:55, and then sat down.

At 9:15 I was still sitting. (Three other people were in the waiting room.)

At 9:25 I was still sitting, and starting to feel squirmy.

At 9:30 I went up to the reception desk to ask how late the doctor was running.

Receptionist: There’s one more person in front of you.

Me: Well then, I think I’m just going to go.

Receptionist: Just a second.

(She walked away for a few seconds, and then came back.)

Receptionist: All of his rooms are full.

Me: The thing is, my appointment was scheduled for 30 minutes ago, and history has shown that he’ll spend no more than 5 minutes with me. I don’t want to wait in a SMALLER room for MORE time just to earn 5 minutes of HIS time. I’m going to go.

(I said all of that very nicely, because as soon as I get nervous and stop saying things nicely, my voice gets all shaky and it sounds like I’m going to cry. Every time I spoke during the PTO meetings, it sounded like I was going to cry about the checks I wrote and the balance of our savings account. Such a hoot. But not really. Sometime I’ll tell you about the time I called the cable company and my voice started shaking and then I actually STARTED crying because I couldn’t watch The Food Network or something. My head is filled with monkeys.)

Receptionist: Just a second.

(She walked away.)

Me (to myself): Quietly muttering something under my breath about how he doesn’t inspire my confidence! Nervous shaky voice that sounds like crying, and this doctor has made it clear that he doesn’t care about my ankle because I’M NOT A PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE! No one can hear me and I’m starting to look a little bit crazy with my darty eyes and handful of tissues (ALLERGY SEASON!), so it’s time to go now.

And I walked out. And I called my mom and got the name of HER orthopedic guy, and I drove home and called him and his office is close to the girls’ school and HE can see me next Tuesday morning as long as I can get my medical records from the first doctor before then.

Me: Um, so, that might be a little awkward. Don’t you guys take care of that?

New Doctor’s Receptionist: Well, we CAN, but the offices tend to drag their feet if we ask for it. It’s more effective if you pick up the records.

Me: Will they charge me for that?

New Doctor’s Receptionist: No.

So, I called the old doctor’s office and explained that “Hiya! I just rode a high horse out of your office about an hour ago, and now I need a big favor! Medical records! Yee Haw! SorryI’mAnAsshole!”

Medical Records Lady: If you pick them up, there will be a fee.

Me: No! I’m so confused.

Medical Records Lady: If we fax them over to the new office, there is no fee. But you still have to sign a form to release the files. What’s your fax number?

Me: I am a person living in a tiny house with no fax machine.

Medical Records Lady: Then I can either mail the form to you, or you can come to the office and sign it.

Tomorrow morning I’ll be making the drive BACK to the doctor’s office so I can track down the medical records lady and sign the form to allow my records to be faxed to the new office. (If I actually TAKE the records to save them the trouble of faxing them, I will be charged a fee.) After signing the form, I will drive straight to Target and purchase 14 hula hoops, and I will spend the afternoon setting them on fire and jumping through them. Because that’s how it feels.

(And I know everyone is doing their best and that this is no one’s fault.)

((Except for President Obama. It’s totally his fault.))

(((It’s not really his fault.))) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Jeff is in Orlando. I just turned the furnace back on.

Back in 2009, Jeff decided to take a family photo after we returned home from church on Easter.

I have never seen a photo represent our family as well as this one. Jeff? Happy. The rest of us? On the edge of something wicked.

We did a bit better in 2010.

(The kids weren’t cooperating, so Jeff and I decided to make the most of it.)

This year’s photo is Very Much Okay.

(I’m not liking Flickr’s new photo editing options. Change is so hard, people. Especially when you lose your white balance option.) A much better photo from our Easter is this one:

When I was a kid, my favorite cake was chocolate chip cake with no icing. Although my mom doesn’t recall making it for me, she made it for me. Fairly often. I’ve been searching out a similar cake recipe for years, and I’ve finally found one that I love. (The layers of cinnamon and sugar take this cake right over the edge. Go make it right now. I’m making another one tomorrow. Really. Because I’m still hungry.)

I was going to tell you all about last night’s produce haul at the co-op, but today is the only day this week during which I have a four hour block of time to work on freelance. My four hour block begins in ten minutes.

Tomorrow is another day. A day for discussing mangos and kale chips! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

The oven is my beetbox and I just ordered a pizza. Good Friday, indeed.

It feels like Saturday, doesn’t it? It does.

This morning I hung out at the hospital while my mom had surgery on her ankle. (Necrotic tissue, bone spurs, ice machine and elevation for a week, you get the picture. All is now well, although she got really sick to her stomach right after I left. I tend to have that effect on people.) While at the hospital, my dad and I strolled over to the cafeteria where I ate the worst hummus in the history of chick peas. I really should have known that hospital hummus wouldn’t be good. Lesson? Learned.

This afternoon? We picked up one of Meredith’s friends and then quickly dropped Harper off at a friend’s house. Do you remember that scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark where Harrison Ford replaces the golden idol with a bag of sand? We’re doing that with kids this weekend. Drop off a kid, pick a kid up. Pick a kid up, drop off a kid. Harper weighs about 43 pounds. I’m guessing Meredith’s friend comes in at around 58 pounds. (Harper’s packed suitcase weighed around 15 pounds.) Equilibrium has been achieved.

Earlier this week, I attended my second-to-last PTO meeting as Treasurer.

The Things I Love The Most In Life On Friday, April Sixth
1. My family, my friends, my church, and all of the other stuff I’m supposed to list first.

2. Beets that have been wrapped in foil and baked at 400 degrees for an hour, then sprinkled with sea salt and olive oil. Seriously. Try it.

3. This song, which is full of bad words and 100% better than the original, which is sung by a woman who is known at The Pudding House for having dirty feet. (Last week Harper went out to get the mail with no shoes on. Meredith yelled, “No! You’re going to get Ke$ha feet!” My job here is done.)

4. Knowing that after May 1st, I will never have to sit at a big PTO table in front of a group of 20 (or so) people ever again. My voice has shaken and my eyes have rolled into the back of my head many times this year. (Incidentally, I’ve been reading a lot about introversion over the past several months, and I’ve learned that it’s okay to be me (la la laaaah!) and it’s okay to absolutely hate being at the front of the room and it’s okay to not attend events that make me feel awkward and it’s okay to be known as the person who always cancels. Similarly, it’s okay that not everyone wants to be my friend and although I’m still struggling with that one a bit, I *do* know that I have a few friends with whom I’m tight, and I just finished a 32 ounce cup of Diet Dr. Pepper, and the caffeine is sort of manifesting itself in this parenthetical aside. My whole self-awareness thing is so boring for you, isn’t it? I should warn you before I go off like this! Anyway!) Last Tuesday we held the election for next year’s officers, and it was announced that I wasn’t adding my name to the ballot because I want to increase my volunteer time at school. That’s not necessarily true. My volunteer time completely depends on the girls’ teachers and if they would like me to give spelling tests or grade papers or do anything else I can to save them some time. The reason I didn’t run again is because I would rather sit in the back of the room than in the front of the room. When the May meeting is over I plan on driving straight to Houlihan’s and treating myself to a chocolate martini with a Ding Dong sidecar, and it will look a little something like this.

Something Completely Different: I’ve been on a kick to finish a few knitting projects.

A few weeks ago, I finished my Damask. I really should have placed a quarter or a squirrel or something on the shawl so you could get some perspective. It’s really more of a shawlette, I suppose.

Last week I finished my Guernsey Wrap. It’s huge and cozy and I’m finally figuring out ways to wear it that don’t inspire Meredith to accuse me of trying to look like Jesus.

Last night I finished my cotton Liesl. It’s red and blocking and maybe I’ll show it to you next week. I’m currently working on a Seraphim for Jeff’s author who sends us towers of gifts each Christmas, along with handspun fingerless mitts for Gina. AND, I’m feeling the urge to try to spin a pound of fiber and make a sweater out of it. (It’s the Knitmore Girls Spin Along, Knit Along (aka SPAKAL)!)

Also, I’m seriously thinking about planting a salsa garden in my front yard.

Enjoy your Easter.

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I probably think this song is about me…

Do you remember back in December when Harper had that weird fever thing that ended up being an unusual strep strain?

She had the weird fever thing again last week. No other symptoms, just a fever that went as high as 103.6. Sadly, the only time the doctor could get us in was thirty minutes after Harper performed a fashion show for me—complete with a black velvet dress and black eyeshadow. (I let her keep the dress on for the appointment, but made her spend the entire twenty minute drive scrubbing her eyelids with makeup remover pads.) The verdict? “I think it’s a sinus infection.”

By the way, stay away from the internet when you’re searching out information on high fevers with no other symptoms.

Today I’m at a bit of a standstill with my latest freelance project, so I’m meeting my mom for lunch, getting a haircut, and thinking about cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen for Meredith’s sleepover on Friday. (Harp is attending her very first sleepover that evening, so we’re letting Meredith have a friend over for the night. Sadly, because of the weird timing, we’ll be missing one of my favorite church services of the year. It’s a quiet service. A powerful service. It’s the service that killed me dead two years ago when the flaming wick from the candle lighter’s big golden candle lighting tool thinger dinger broke off and fell onto the aisle carpeting—forcing the candle lighter to do a hilarious little dance to extinguish the flame. I could barely hold myself together, and then I started thinking about the time I watched a fly die in church and the time my thumb busted open and started squirting blood in church, and I can barely type right now because the tears are starting to roll.)

Sunday is Easter. Last Easter was my very worst Easter ever.

I just realized that I’m spending this entire post linking to myself. (Please know that right before I begin each new paragraph, I smile at myself in a mirror for twenty seconds. Well, hello there, Lady! Hi, Lady! Lady! You’re my night in shining armor, and I love you.)

Four years ago I wrote backwards on my face with eyeliner for Easter, and then I almost got sued. To keep with my me! Me! ME! theme, here you go.

Yes. The paper towels are off of the holder. Please know that we replaced that ridiculous paper towel holder after finally admitting that unscrewing the top to replace the roll was just too much of an ordeal for us. What a living hell that thing was.

Incidentally, the very eyeliner I used to write on my face fell into the toilet yesterday morning. Gone forever. (As much as I love my eye doctor, I don’t want to risk needing to see him because I’ve been blinded by makeup that may or may not have been contaminated by human waste.) ((And, yes. I don’t use eyeliner very often. After having it for more than four years, it was probably time for that thing to go. I know makeup tends to last longer than raw chicken, but I can’t really keep any of it straight.))

Hey! I finished two knitting projects. Let’s talk about them next time.

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I will say the only words I know that you’ll understand.

The phone rings. I pick it up.

Me: Hello?

Guy: Angela?

Me: Yes.

Guy: Hello there! It’s Ben from The Place Where You Bought A Car One Time!

Me: Oh! Hi there!

Ben: I’m just calling to wish you a happy two year anniversary with the Sonata!

Me: Has it really been two years?

Ben: It has! Are you still liking the car?

Me: We’re loving the car!

Ben: Great! Well, this might sound silly, but I’m calling to give you my phone number in case you ever want to send one of your friends or family members over to The Place Where You Bought A Car One Time. If they actually buy a car from me, I’ll send you fifty dollars!

Me: That doesn’t sound silly. I spent fifty dollars filling up my tank this morning!

Ben: I hear you. (He continues talking and Henry decides that he needs to go outside and my potato finishes baking in the oven and everything is happening all at once, so my brain hiccups and all I hear is…) …so Happy Anniversary!

(Suddenly, Henry is knocking on the back door and I’m balancing the phone between my shoulder and chin and I have my hands in the oven and I have completely forgotten why I’m on the telephone, so I do what you do when a pleasant-sounding man wishes you a happy anniversary.)

Me: Happy anniversary. I love you.

(Suddenly, I realize what I have done, and I quickly hang up. You see, I do not love Ben, but I also don’t want to hurt his feelings so soon after using the L word.)

((If you’re interested in a Hyundai, let me know if you need a guy. I’m curious to see if he’d really send fifty bucks to a married lady who just confessed that she’s interested in a tasty side dish that she hasn’t heard from in over two years.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

We shall surely reproduce!

(I suppose I should say re-produce. My oven? It is bunless. My countertop? It is full. Of produce.)

Because I’m trying my best to be one of those stinky hippies who eat only from the ground (also trees and bushes!), I decided to sign The Puddings up at our community produce co-op. $21.50 for a big basket/box/bag of fruits and vegetables that will feed a family of four for two weeks? Count me in! (Please know that I know that my kids will probably refuse to touch roughly 73.4% of the score. This means that every two weeks I’ll be picking up enough fruits and vegetables to feed MY family for three point two weeks! If I had the patience to do the math and I could somehow figure in the fact that both kids will probably move away for college, it means this: If I buy in to the co-op every two weeks for approximately seven point eight years, I think Jeff and I will have enough fruits and vegetables to feed us until we’re ready for assisted living! I NEED TO LEARN HOW TO CAN AND/OR DEHYDRATE!!!)

When I paid for the first installment last week, I was sent an e-mail that held a short list of what may or may not be included in the next delivery, along with the address of the home where the truck drops everything off (or: …along with the address of the home off which the truck drops! Everything!).

“Please pick up your produce between 5:30 and 6:00.”

Because the girls and I are nothing if not punctual, we left our house at 5:10 and arrived at the delivery location at around 5:20. We were told that this week was a bit weird because the truck normally arrives at 5:00, which gives everyone time to unload and sort before people start arriving at 5:30. Personally, I was thrilled with the delay, because helping unload the truck and divide the gazillions of zucchinis and cabbages was possibly the most thrilling thing I’ve done in months! (Someday I’ll attach a cord to my torso and jump off of a bridge. In the meantime, I shall sort produce!)

At the end of the day, we ended up with a huge pile of food.

6 bananas
5 apples
1 bag green beans
2 eggplants
1 pineapple
1 container of strawberries
1 container of baby bella mushrooms
1 bunch of green onions
1 puppy forehead
4 zucchini
1 cabbage
1 Bibb lettuce
1 head of broccoli
2 bunches of cilantro
6 kiwi
1 puppy nose

The girls will enjoy the bananas, the strawberries, the apples (they’re already gone), and the pineapple. The green beans are questionable because they don’t come in a can. I’ll be “forcing” five bites of the eggplant. This evening for dinner I’ll be grilling zucchini. Tomorrow for lunch I’ll be roasting broccoli. The kiwi will all go to Jeff, as kiwi makes my tongue go numb, and Meredith and Harper have complained that they suffer the same effects.

I’ll be making baby bella lettuce wraps with the mushrooms and Bibb lettuce.

I’ll be removing my Birkenstocks from their box in just a few hours.

Harper owns a broom skirt.

I haven’t shaved my left leg in nearly two months.

It’s happening.
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Sunday!

The chocolate chip banana bread did not last long in our house.

I haven’t shared a Henry photo in quite some time.

My pewter Damask is folded in half and is currently blocking on my bed. (I tried to stretch it out, but trying to even out the scalloped edges was driving me insane. You know how it is with those scalloped edges.)