Daily Archives : Page 93 of 110 : Fluid Pudding

Whatever happened to Buddy Hinton?

Jeff’s birthday was Monday, and although we didn’t get him exactly what he wanted, we did get him a few small useful things. (Like Skittles! And Garfield Minus Garfield!) When he returned home from work on his birthday, the girls sat him on the couch and instructed him to close his eyes and hold out his hands. Obviously, this gave Jeff the opportunity to act all deranged—with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched as far as they would go, he waited until the girls screamed, “No! That’s too big!” before he started swinging his arms around like he was swimming in a pool of monkeys. Because I’m not very graceful when it comes to giving gifts, I danced around and attempted to place an Applebee’s gift card into one of his flailing arms. (Please know that his eyes were still closed and the girls were screaming with delight. Chaos, I tell you.) As I jerked around and placed the card into his left hand, Jeff swung his right arm and punched me square in the jaw. Immediately, my eyes began to water and the scene quickly turned from knee-slapping birthday jollification to remorse for the ghastly accidental pounding.

Me: So. Is this what 39 is going to be like?

Jeff: You KNOW I don’t like APPLEBEE’S!!!

(He didn’t really say that. Jeff recognizes the importance of eating good in the neighborhood.)

Internet, may I ask a favor of you? (I always feel weird doing this, and I try not to do it often.) Two friends of mine have kids who attend the St. Louis Language Immersion School (SLLIS). The school is currently in the running to receive an equipment grant that will go toward building a playground. (I absolutely hate the idea of kids not having a playground.) I will not ask you to donate cash, but would you please consider voting for SLLIS to receive one of these grants? (It’s as easy as clicking a button, and you can vote once each day until March 31.)

I offer you my deepest thanks, along with the promise that this act of kindness will not get you punched in the jaw. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Swinging dead cats and wishing for the perfect naan.

I once made the statement that you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a gifted kid. After saying it, I sort of regretted saying it, as I tend to regret many of the things I say out loud. (“Quarter Pounder with cheese, mustard, pickle, and onion” is an excellent example of this. Also, the fact that I’m constantly chewing on my foot (figuratively!) is one of the many reasons why you’ll probably never see me in person! I like to stay in my (mostly soundproof) house! I sing songs to my cats! Anyway!)

I wasn’t going to share this with you, but I suddenly feel like I should: Meredith was recently accepted into the gifted program at school. After consulting with us, her teacher recommended her, she tested surprisingly well, and Wham! Every Thursday morning she now reports to the middle school where she has her own locker and she changes classes along with an entire hallway of first and second graders who are also in the program. And I’m being intentionally vague, because it’s such a thin fence between bragging on your kid and not bragging and I suppose it’s not wrong to brag about your kid, and gheez. It’s just sort of new to me, but I will say this: Meredith LOVES her Thursdays, and I like to think of it as her song to sing—not mine.

This might seem like I’m changing the subject, but I’m not: Meredith gets car sick, and because of that, she can’t/won’t ride the bus. This morning I had to take her to the middle school at 9:00, pick her up at 11:00 (it was an early dismissal day), drive her to the elementary school, return home and feed Harper lunch, take Harper to the elementary at 12:30, go back to the middle school for the parent/teacher conference at 1:20, and then back home where I currently sit typingtypingtyping until 3:06 when I make my way back to the elementary to pick them both up. AND, because Jeff is in California and I slept like a horse last night (mostly on my feet, lots of fidgeting and swinging my tail at imaginary bugs), I’m feeling a bit raw.

And now I’m going to change into an even more opaque hat: Something was brought up at today’s conference that should have been brought up at last week’s conference with her elementary classroom teacher, and I’m currently stuck between a rock and a hard place (Ah! Clichés! Rattlesnakes!) because I feel the need to confront someone, but I secretly know I can’t because there’s a 17% chance that it might affect a friendship, and because I am who I am, this is going to bother me for days, and hey! I’m really liking that sick mom from American Idol, aren’t you?

After actually feeling tempted to taste goat meat last weekend, I am now 100% committed to learn how to cook authentic Indian food of the vegetarian variety. (Live long and prosper, Goats!) It seems that whenever Jeff and I get the chance to hit a restaurant, we always go for Indian. I’ve asked for cookbook recommendations on Twitter, and I’ve now added a few to my Amazon wish list. (Whee! A list of wishes!) I’m now wondering if you have any words of wisdom. What I really want is to figure out exactly how the place down the street makes their Delhi’s Chaat. From there? Saag paneer. And on and on until my house smells like an Indian Palace. (Don’t worry. I’m not going to go all Julie and Julia: The Indian Version on you. I’m not nearly that perky.)

Look. I knitted a hat and some washcloths for Meredith’s kindergarten teacher. There I go again, getting all twirly and knitting gifts for teachers!

There goes February!

If you’re not a knitter, you need to know this: Several knitters out there kick off new knitting projects during the opening ceremonies of the Olympics, with the goal of finishing those projects before or during the closing ceremonies. Some knitters take this quite seriously—joining knitting teams and signing on for certain “events” depending on the type of project they’re attempting to complete.

I didn’t join a team this year, because with freelance work and kids home from school and parent/teacher conferences and I’m full of ridiculous excuses, I didn’t think I would be successful.

Do you remember when I did that meme/hat giveaway thing at the end of January? Well. Mommy Mae won the hat, and after a few e-mails back and forth, we decided that she would look quite fetching in a Gretel. Because it just sort of worked out that way, I started the hat during the opening ceremony of the Olympics, and I actually finished it yesterday afternoon.

Please know that I’m not presenting a black and white photo in an attempt to be artsy. I’m presenting it because Mommy Mae has no idea what color the hat truly is, and I want to keep it a surprise. So, here I sit empty-handed, but deserving some sort of Olympic medal, I suppose. What a difficult life it can be for a knitter with no team!

On Thursday evening, my book club met to discuss “My Life in France” by Julia Child. At the meeting, we each brought a dish prepared using one of Ms. Child’s recipes. I chose the Clafouti. (The recipe is here, and is really super easy and Good.)

The host of the meeting prepared Boeuf Bourguignon, and side dishes included fresh green beans with a Swiss cheese sauce, tomatoes stuffed with garlic and Saint-André cheese, and roasted potatoes. Perfection. (Also? I was thrilled to hear that I’m not the only person in the world that craved more Julia and Much LESS Julie in her Julie and Julia. I could have done without Julie altogether, actually.)

For those who asked, the adult makeup I purchased is Lorac, which I just learned is pronounced LeROCK and not LORack. Specifically, I got the oil-free makeup (currently marked down from $30 to $7.50), the oil-free wet/dry powder makeup, and a set of really crazy glittered lip glosses that were marked down from something like $38 to something like $7 and are no longer on the website, meaning I’m definitely not the ONLY person in the world walking around with a bedazzled mouth, and you would be surprised how much my mind is eased knowing that There Are Others.

I’ve been commissioned to knit a sweater for a dog. And after finding this pattern, I really couldn’t be more excited.

Oh! Oh! I almost forgot! Leah Peterson is one of the most creative people I know. It seems that she always has some sort of amazing project going on, and I’m in love with her writing, photography, ideas, etc. Her latest creation is a magazine titled LP Creative Humans, and the first issue is now available. AND, I submitted something. (Very reluctantly. Someday we’ll talk about my complete lack of confidence when it comes to writing outside of Fluid Pudding. Yeesh.) And wheee! I made it. (Wait a second. There’s my Olympic medal!) If you’re interested in browsing or purchasing, feel free to go here! (Or hit the MagCloud button in my sidebar.) ((I like to give you options.)) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’ve been poking pretzel sticks through bunny-shaped marshmallows.

Yesterday afternoon, Harper went to school and wrote a note to me on funeral home letterhead.

Obviously, I love this note for many reasons.

I plan to stash it away in a light-fast, non-bleeding, and acid- and lignin-free box to heighten the chance that my great great great great granddaughter will discover it while constructing some sort of branchy Pudding family tree. I picture her asking my great great granddaughter how old Great Great Great Grandma Harper was when Great Great Great Great Grandma Angela passed on, and what are the chances that this note was actually written at the funeral?!

Ahhhh. It’s been a long day.

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Time is running out!
I spent a week driving a Lincoln, and if you check out my review you could win a $500 Visa gift card! (And more!) This is a really great giveaway!

On Monday, I’m giving away a $200 Visa gift card, and it’s all about pizza. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s Shirt vs. Skin, Mr. Bobby Flay.

Although I probably watch entirely too much television, I don’t really have any shows that I Absolutely Cannot Miss. (My fingers are crossed behind my back right now, because I sort of can’t miss Days of Our Lives or The Secret Life of the American Teenager. I justify my viewing of these shows in the following manner: In my mind, the average age of a Days of Our Lives fan is 60. Secret Life fan? 20. At (nearly) 40, I am The MEAN!)

When I’m sitting on the couch knitting, I tend to hop through channels. More often than not, I end up on Food Network because I find that the Food Network hosts are (mostly) people I could see myself cavorting with in real life. (In a parallel universe, I am decorating cakes with Chef Duff Goldman right now. It’s an enormous cake that looks exactly like a bathtub filled with scrambled eggs, and Chef Duff is very impressed with the fluffy perfection of my marzipan eggs. Okay. Back to this universe.) Anyway. The show that consistently captures my attention is Throwdown! with Bobby Flay. (Side note: I would love to have this, but it looks like shipping would cost more than the actual DVD. I refuse to pay more in shipping than in product! I am Ridiculous that way, Food Network.)

Please know that I’ve never caught an entire episode of Throwdown! with Bobby Flay. With that said, here’s how I think it goes down: Someone considers herself to be sort of an expert on a particular food item. This person looks into the camera and goes on and on about how her blueberry pancakes are “The Greatest Blueberry Pancakes EVER, Bobby Flay, because here in South Dakota, we know our Blueberry Pancakes!” And then Bobby Flay, looking all fetching as he struts down the streets of South Dakota in his Ray-Bans, says “Hey! You think your blueberry pancakes can beat MY BLUEBERRY PANCAKES?! I’ll kick your pancakey butt right into Shrove Tuesday, Cha Cha!” He then busts into the house and embarrasses the self-proclaimed Blueberry Pancake Queen in front of her friends and family by making blueberry pancakes that put an end to every other blueberry pancake—all with one hand tied behind his back and absolutely no sweat to be seen.

At the end of the show, the townspeople vote, and more often than not, Bobby Flay is the Throwdown! Winner. And it really should make me feel a bit sad for the humiliated loser (who, in my mind, is eventually chased out of town), and sometimes it DOES, but more often than not, I simply cannot stop thinking that I wish Bobby had performed the entire Throwdown! without his shirt on.

Before I go any further, let me just say this: If a man would bounce on over to Fluid Pudding and say something about wishing Rachael Ray would do HER show without a shirt on, it would offend me. More than a little, even. And that, my friends, makes me a Hypocrite—a hypocrite who wants Bobby Flay to come over to my house and Throwdown! without his shirt on.

So. With that out of the way, it appears that I need to quickly become a locally-known expert on a particular food item.

After thinking about this for nearly ten minutes, I have chosen the Sweet Potato for two obvious reasons: 1. I bake a sweet potato almost every day for lunch. (With that said, I am not an expert on the baked sweet potato. Sometimes they’re not quite done. Sometimes they’re entirely TOO done. I do not discriminate. All are eaten—some just evoke more fond memories than others.) 2. Potatoes have skins, which opens up that whole Shirt vs. Skin thing, in which I would be Shirt. (And, most likely, Shirt with Swingy Cardigan.)

This is not going to be an easy task, which is exactly why I am here to ask for your help.

What can I do with a sweet potato that would stir Bobby Flay into a St. Louis Fluid Pudding Sweet Potato Shirtless Throwdown! (SLFPSPST)?

Quick! I need your sweet potato ideas!

(Confession: As much as I would dig seeing Mr. Flay without his shirt on, I really wrote this entire entry because I am looking for sweet potato recipes. (I tend to dance around for seven hundred words (or more) before getting down to business.))
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I spent a week driving a Lincoln, and if you check out my review you could win a $500 Visa gift card! (And more!)

I’m giving away a $200 Visa gift card, and it’s all about pizza. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Jeff told her that it looked like cobbler. He’s so brave.

My calendar this week is filled with words, and most of those words have something to do with freelance work.

(Thursday contains the words Stendhal Syndrome. I’m not sure why I wrote that, but I do love the concept.)

Sadly, today features the following phrase: MC home sick.

Did you know that Meredith has GERD? She had it when she was a baby, and then everything seemed to clear up when she started walking. Last April, she started complaining of stomachaches. After a few weeks of complaints, she started throwing up every morning. Her doctor put her on Prilosec for six months. When six months passed, Meredith was going through a challenging time at school and was scared to death to stop the medicine, so the doctor signed us on for another three months.

A few weeks back, the prescription ran out, and Meredith was cool with that. Onward!

We noticed last week that she was hoarse.

On Sunday afternoon, she had a really awful cough.

Last night at 9:45 she yelled out and was wiggling around her bed in pain.

Me: Do you think you might need a puke bowl?

Meredith: Yes.

Seconds later (before Jeff was able to deliver The Silver Bowl), Meredith unloaded a pile of blueberries onto her bed. And I thought I could handle cleaning it. I totally did. Jeff took Meredith to the bathroom to clean her up, I approached the bed with the intention of removing the sheets and wiping up as much as I could. And then I started in with the gagging and bending over and saying a lot of things like, “Yeesh! Um, I can do this. I can do this. Blergh. Yes. Holy holy holy. Oh. Boy.”

Once again, Jeff came to the rescue and dealt with the sheets while the girls and I watched a bit of Olympic figure skating. (Did anyone else catch the Canadian skater who fixed her partner’s hair during The Way We Were?! It was just like Streisand and Redford! I don’t care that she fell down and repeatedly stumbled. That subtle move should have clinched the gold for them. Go Canada!)

So, anyway. As I sit at my computer and type, Meredith is sleeping off her rough night (we now have more Prilosec), Harper is at school, and there are at least 20 more chapters on reptiles that need to be templated.

If I have time later this week, I want to talk to you about the crush I have on Bobby Flay.
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I spent a week driving a Lincoln, and if you check out my review you could win a $500 Visa gift card! (And more!)

I’m giving away a $200 Visa gift card, and it’s all about pizza. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Everyone is invited, Mr. Dangerfield.

Lately, Meredith feels she is not getting enough respect.

After much consideration, she has determined that throwing a party will be the best way to gather her housemates and confront them in regard to their general lack of respect.

Therefore, a Give Meredith Respect Party is being thrown. (Gifts are appreciated, but not required.)

If the proper amount of respect is not shown, attendees will be evicted from the party.

(And, yes. I’m now teaching her the difference between Your and You’re. It’s a difficult but important lesson for a six year old who gets no respect.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

So, it looks like the Puddings are headed to prison.

A little over a year ago, Jeff noticed that he was paying our trash people more than once each month. (And when I say Our Trash People, I mean the environmental service that comes to our house on Thursday mornings to haul away the things that we DIDN’T recycle. I’m still wearing my Birkenstocks.)

Anyway, when he pulled up the information online, he realized that he had been double paying for the past six months! He quickly called Our Trash People (OTP) to figure out what was going on.

OTP: It looks like we accidentally created two accounts for your home. I’ll go ahead and delete the second account and credit your first account with six months of payments if that works for you.

Jeff: I’m down with OTP. Yeah. You know me.

Six months passed before we received the next letter from OTP, which said something like, “Hey, Stinky! You’ve probably noticed that we’re no longer picking up your trash! Do you want to know why?! IT’S BECAUSE YOU HAVEN’T PAID US IN SIX MONTHS!!! Money! Bring it!!!”

(They had NOT stopped picking up our trash.)

Jeff, who is always surprisingly calm in these situations, picked up the phone and called them.

OTP: Whoa! Hey! Look at that! It looks like we credited the first account with six months worth of payments and then DELETED that account. That’s funny!

Jeff: That’s not funny.

OTP: Our bad! Our bad! Don’t worry. We’ll reinstate the first account and delete this empty account. You’re good to go! Trash away!

The bills started appearing again, and we assumed All Was Well.

Yesterday, we received a letter in the mail that featured an embossed stamp and said something like, “Check it, Heedless Sloth. You haven’t paid your stinking trash bill in over a year! What’s up with that?! Wait. I’ll TELL you what’s up with that! What you’re holding in your hand right now is a summons! On February 25th, if you don’t show up and explain your sorry back side to a judge, we’re going to burn your House o’ Trash down and toss your entire family (including the cats) into the slammer!”

Jeff, who is always surprisingly calm in these situations, picked up the phone and called them.

OTP: Oh My Gosh. This is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. For some reason, we just keep deleting the wrong account! Comedy Gold!!! I’ll take this in and talk to my supervisor about it. No worries. Fixaroonied!

Jeff: Can you ask your supervisor to send an e-mail assuring me that it’s been taken care of?

OTP: Are you kidding? We can’t send e-mails to people on the outside! Believe me. We’ll take care of this. Hey! Where’d my sandwich go?!

A few minutes later, Jeff received a call from the OTP Supervisor assuring him that the court date has been canceled and All Is Well.

Because I do not trust the OTP, the Puddings will be fleeing the country on the evening of February 24th. Hey, Coffee Lady! Do you have room for some Puddings?

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New Giveaway! I spent a week driving a Lincoln, and if you check out my review you could win a $500 Visa gift card! (And more!)

And don’t forget about the hat, the eggs, and the pizza!

Answer some questions and someone scores a handknit hat!

In just a few days I’ll be giving away a $100 Visa gift card partnered with Six Months Worth of Eggs.

Also, I’m giving away a $200 Visa gift card, and it’s all about pizza. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’m knitting hats for tiny bald tarantulas.

In the past 48 hours, I’ve seen some pretty wicked photographs of birds with diarrhea. I have taken on a freelance project, and that is a very good thing.

This particular freelance project is all about animals and their diseases.

Tarantulas go bald. Birds have anorexia. Amphibians vomit.

Meanwhile, I have about 4,392 things running through my head—projects that need my attention, opportunities I want to explore, hair that needs to be cut.

While I’m here, I need to remind you:
In just a few days I’ll be giving away a $100 Visa gift card partnered with Six Months Worth of Eggs.

Also, I’m giving away a $200 Visa gift card, and it’s all about pizza.
Thus it is, and so it goes. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Explanations, Memes, and Human Kindness

ETA: We have a winner! Congratulations, MommyMae!

A few months ago, I mentioned that if you follow me on Twitter, you’ll notice that I finish nearly every one of my thoughts/tweets/whathaveyous with #momspotting. I also pointed you toward the awkward video I made to introduce myself AS a Momspotter.

When the Momspotting gig began, Rita Arens wrote a really excellent article explaining exactly what a Momspotter does. In a nutshell, twenty moms were hired to be part of a six month citizen journalism project that involves making daily observations about technology and parenting. These observations (or tweets) are being watched for trends. And I know it’s pretty confusing, so here: I get paid to be aware of technology in my daily life and how if affects my family. I employ Twitter fifteen times each week, and three times each month I post to the Family Connections community at Blogher. As a total bonus, BlogHer is syndicating a few of my blog posts. (One of them is right here! Hooray!)

To celebrate the final two months of Momspotting, Rita has written a meme and asked that we invite our readers to participate! And *I* have decided to sweeten the pot by turning the meme into a giveaway! (And before we get started, please know that Yes. These questions are geared toward parents, because this particular journalism project is geared toward parents. And I know that seems unfair to people who are not parents. And I get it. Believe me—for reasons I won’t get into right now, I really do get it. If you do not have kids, please skip the questions and go straight to the bottom paragraph of this post. You can still enter the giveaway!)

Here are the questions (with my answers):

1. Which expensive electronic device do you most often let your older children abuse or your baby drool on?

None. I am one of those wicked parents who can’t really afford to replace expensive electronic devices, so drool and abuse are not tolerated.

2. How many take-out restaurant numbers do you have programmed into your phone?

None. Although, I know Gokul’s number by heart. Mmmmmm. Delhi’s Chaat.

3. How many hours of television do you so totally not let your kids watch a week?

I would say my kids probably average about ten hours each week. Is that high? Low? I really have no idea.

4. Do you think people who say “we don’t watch television” at play dates but really mean “we just watch DVDs” are lying liars from Liarville?

My theory on play dates? Do What You Need to Do to Survive and Stay Sane. We recently had a play date during which things got a little crazy. I quietly slipped a movie into the DVD player, and within minutes the girls were sitting down, snacking (on fruit! really!), and NOT arguing. After finishing their snacks, all was well, and the movie was turned off.

5. How many miles have you driven with your child and not one device of electronic entertainment in a single car trip?

250 miles. (We have never used electronic entertainment during car trips. Color me curmudgeonly!)

6. What’s your record for calls to the pediatrician or Ask-a-Nurse in a single day?

Three. Meredith was very ill when she was six months old, and I really don’t want to talk about it. Bad memories. (I spent most of that weekend rocking her in the rocking chair and reading East of Eden. Meredith LOVES that book!)

7. What’s the sexiest thing your partner could text you after a hard day?

“My car is loaded with Delhi’s Chaat.”

8. What’s your favorite iPad joke?

I was going to write my OWN joke that had something to do with how Momspotters NEED iPads, but then I cringed and made hot tea instead. You’re welcome.

9. What’s the dumbest parenting tool, gear, gadget or device you ever bought?

A bottle warmer. I nursed both of my kids, and neither of them ever took a bottle. (Several years passed during which I couldn’t leave the house for more than two hours at a time. I was really fun to be around during those years.)

10. How many years will it take for your child to become more tech-savvy than you?

It won’t take long. My six year old is already using the Internet for research, and both kids know how to use the DVD player and the Wii. They’re fearless, which is key.

Okay. Here is where you come in. In one week, I’m going to knit a hat. If you answer the ten meme questions in my comment section, I’ll enter you in the drawing for the hat. If you answer the questions at your blog, leave a link in my comment section, and I’ll enter you in the drawing for the hat. If you tweet about it, leave the link. You’re entered. AND, if you do NOT have kids, leave a comment below just telling me that you want the stinking hat! You’re entered! (Let’s make this official. I’ll do the drawing on February 7! AND, if you win, we’ll pick out the pattern and color together!) In the meantime, feel free to visit the BlogHer Family Connections Forum! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>