...I had more time to read.
...I had less time to sit on my butt.
...I owned all of my favorite movies and television shows.
...I had a house that was a home.
...I had a spicy chicken quesadilla & a large glass of chocolate milk.
...I could sleep for a week straight and then stay awake for a month straight.
...I had more of an imagination.
...I had more to write about.
...I had a baby. :(
Friday, February 24, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
The Handwriting "Challenge"
I don't know why I've called it a challenge. The only challenging thing I encountered with this post was holding the camera steady enough to take the darn pictures.
Here's the "Challenge":
1. Write the alphabet in your normal handwriting.
2. Write a sentence in your "neat" handwriting.
3. Write a sentence quickly.
4. Write your name in cursive.
5. Write your name normally.
6. Write a sentence in cursive.
There we go! My goal is to look back at this in a year or so and see how my handwriting styles have changed.
Easy Treat: Fudge Brownieface
There is really no explanation for calling the recipe Fudge Brownieface, other than that is what I have it recorded as in my recipe notebook. I happened to be under the influence of a lovely blueberry-flavored alcoholic beverage while writing the recipe down, and also while making them.
Don't worry - we're still alive today, so clearly it went well.
I made these for My Love for Valentine's Day (who am I kidding... I made them for myself. Happy now?) and they turned out so fudgey and delicious that I just had to share. I will write the ingredients exactly as I had them in my notebook, so that you may decipher the code and possibly create something almost as delicious as my brownies were.
Ingredients:
- 1 cup butta (real butta, no fake shizz)
- 2 1/4 cups suga-sug
- 1 1/4 cup cocoa powda
- 1/2 tsp salt (1 tsp if using unsalted butta)
- 1 tsp 'nilla
- 4 eggs
- 1 1/2 cup flowa
- various yummy things from the fridge (mint chocolate chips, nuts, whatevs)
Directions:
Preheat your oven to 350. Coat a pan with butter (the spray kind or regular butter, who cares?). I used a 8x8 pan and my brownies were very, very thick. But I like my brownies thick and chewy, so use your better judgement when choosing a size. Heat the butter in a saucepan on the stove. Add the sugar to it and mix. You don't want the sugar to bubble (that's what the recipe said, anyway) but I let it bubble anyway. Just don't burn it!
Once its nice and mixed, move it to a mixing bowl and add your eggs, cocoa powder, salt and vanilla. Mix well, and add the flour last (if you've got yummy things to add, such as chocolate chips, now would be the time to throw them in). Move the mixture to your pan and bake them for 28-35 minutes (the denser your brownies, the longer it takes to bake).
Now, you must not lick any of the mixture off of the spoon/bowl. If you eat it, you will probably explode. You must, and I repeat, MUST give them to me, so I can safely remove the batter from the dishes. This does involve me licking the bowl and/or spoon, so be prepared to clean them really well afterward.
Ta-da. Not only do you now have delicious brownies, but you have successfully avoided an explosion. Congratulations.
Don't worry - we're still alive today, so clearly it went well.
I made these for My Love for Valentine's Day (who am I kidding... I made them for myself. Happy now?) and they turned out so fudgey and delicious that I just had to share. I will write the ingredients exactly as I had them in my notebook, so that you may decipher the code and possibly create something almost as delicious as my brownies were.
Ingredients:
- 1 cup butta (real butta, no fake shizz)
- 2 1/4 cups suga-sug
- 1 1/4 cup cocoa powda
- 1/2 tsp salt (1 tsp if using unsalted butta)
- 1 tsp 'nilla
- 4 eggs
- 1 1/2 cup flowa
- various yummy things from the fridge (mint chocolate chips, nuts, whatevs)
Directions:
Preheat your oven to 350. Coat a pan with butter (the spray kind or regular butter, who cares?). I used a 8x8 pan and my brownies were very, very thick. But I like my brownies thick and chewy, so use your better judgement when choosing a size. Heat the butter in a saucepan on the stove. Add the sugar to it and mix. You don't want the sugar to bubble (that's what the recipe said, anyway) but I let it bubble anyway. Just don't burn it!
Once its nice and mixed, move it to a mixing bowl and add your eggs, cocoa powder, salt and vanilla. Mix well, and add the flour last (if you've got yummy things to add, such as chocolate chips, now would be the time to throw them in). Move the mixture to your pan and bake them for 28-35 minutes (the denser your brownies, the longer it takes to bake).
Now, you must not lick any of the mixture off of the spoon/bowl. If you eat it, you will probably explode. You must, and I repeat, MUST give them to me, so I can safely remove the batter from the dishes. This does involve me licking the bowl and/or spoon, so be prepared to clean them really well afterward.
Ta-da. Not only do you now have delicious brownies, but you have successfully avoided an explosion. Congratulations.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Crook. The Baby before our baby.
I grew up with cats. Lots and lots of cats.
Binkie (my first love!), Meatloaf, Luna, Moo-Cow, Jizz, Tibidoux, Seven, Remy, and many unnamed kittens along the way. I really love cats. I love dogs too - we just didn't have them growing up.
My Other Half grew up with dogs. Lots and lots of dogs. He also suffers from really bad allergies, including those spawned from cat dander. So when he moved in with me and my cats, he was a miserable mess.
All these years he has begged and begged for a dog. A BIG dog. "His dog", he says. One that would wag its tail uncontrollably when he walked through the door after work. One that would choose him over everyone else. One that would love him more than me. I didn't want a big dog at all. They poop everywhere and smell gross and you have to bathe them (in hindsight, it does sound an awful lot like having a human baby...). But we agreed that when we get this theoretical dog, he would be responsible for all of its poop.
In July of 2011, we finally rented a house with a huge yard and a kind landlord. We had permission to have a dog with no additional deposit - woohoo! Off to the pound we went, that July. We walked the cold, lonely halls filled with cages - him, rushing past most of them to the one he saw in the ad online. I took my time and talked to each dog, smiling and petting them (even though the sign clearly said I wasn't allowed to - screw you, sign! What kind of heartless person passes up puppy eyes?!), spreading just a little love to them all. He called me to the very last cage of the very last row, and there he was... our future baby.
His name was Crook. He had horrible Mange, and the picture they had of him online was from when his hair was still growing back, so he looked half bald. He had been there several months already, and being in the last cage, in the last line, his time was soon coming to a close. We took him out to the yard and played with him and decided within ten minutes of actually seeing him that he would be ours. So we filled out the paperwork, paid our dues (over $200!) and he was sent to the vet to be "fixed" (though I don't think he was broken), and we picked him up two days later, all drugged up and left with an empty, saggy sack!
We tried to rename him, but Crook has grown on us. His tail is broken from his previous owner, but his hair is all grown in. He's a healthy, strong boy with so much love to give. I don't know how anyone could have taken him to the pound at all, but I'm sure glad they did. He absolutely loves babies (particularly ones that feed him all of their food) and is super gentle around them. He will even whine if he hears one on tv.
He does smell a lot. He farts almost more than My Love, and it smells way worse. He needs to be bathed almost biweekly because he likes to roll in poop, and eat it, too. But I love him to bits and wouldn't trade him for the world.
Plus, he likes me best. ;)
Binkie (my first love!), Meatloaf, Luna, Moo-Cow, Jizz, Tibidoux, Seven, Remy, and many unnamed kittens along the way. I really love cats. I love dogs too - we just didn't have them growing up.
My Other Half grew up with dogs. Lots and lots of dogs. He also suffers from really bad allergies, including those spawned from cat dander. So when he moved in with me and my cats, he was a miserable mess.
All these years he has begged and begged for a dog. A BIG dog. "His dog", he says. One that would wag its tail uncontrollably when he walked through the door after work. One that would choose him over everyone else. One that would love him more than me. I didn't want a big dog at all. They poop everywhere and smell gross and you have to bathe them (in hindsight, it does sound an awful lot like having a human baby...). But we agreed that when we get this theoretical dog, he would be responsible for all of its poop.
In July of 2011, we finally rented a house with a huge yard and a kind landlord. We had permission to have a dog with no additional deposit - woohoo! Off to the pound we went, that July. We walked the cold, lonely halls filled with cages - him, rushing past most of them to the one he saw in the ad online. I took my time and talked to each dog, smiling and petting them (even though the sign clearly said I wasn't allowed to - screw you, sign! What kind of heartless person passes up puppy eyes?!), spreading just a little love to them all. He called me to the very last cage of the very last row, and there he was... our future baby.
His name was Crook. He had horrible Mange, and the picture they had of him online was from when his hair was still growing back, so he looked half bald. He had been there several months already, and being in the last cage, in the last line, his time was soon coming to a close. We took him out to the yard and played with him and decided within ten minutes of actually seeing him that he would be ours. So we filled out the paperwork, paid our dues (over $200!) and he was sent to the vet to be "fixed" (though I don't think he was broken), and we picked him up two days later, all drugged up and left with an empty, saggy sack!
We tried to rename him, but Crook has grown on us. His tail is broken from his previous owner, but his hair is all grown in. He's a healthy, strong boy with so much love to give. I don't know how anyone could have taken him to the pound at all, but I'm sure glad they did. He absolutely loves babies (particularly ones that feed him all of their food) and is super gentle around them. He will even whine if he hears one on tv.
He does smell a lot. He farts almost more than My Love, and it smells way worse. He needs to be bathed almost biweekly because he likes to roll in poop, and eat it, too. But I love him to bits and wouldn't trade him for the world.
Plus, he likes me best. ;)
No love for Valentine's Day.
We have never been fans of Valentine's Day. Granted, before my Other Half and I got together, we had always been single on the holiday, and thus celebrated "Single-Awareness Day" alone.
This year, we haven't bought each other anything at all for the holiday, and I'm 100% okay with that. We've done cards and chocolate and flowers, but those bring short-lived happiness. I love getting flowers, but they die within a week. I love getting chocolate, but they die, too (err... get eaten...that day...). And I love getting cards, but my love doesn't write anything in them but his name.
I did make him waffles for breakfast and left a cute note on one of the many whiteboards covering my walls (it even included a lovely quote from our favorite Mad TV sketch - "Can I ha' yo' numba?!"). Our uber-romantic plans for tonight consist of: buying a pizza with lots of meat and cheese on it, renting a movie from Red Box, and making mint-chocolate brownies. Coincidentally, this is what we usually do on "special occasions" such as... whenever he has a night off. Hah. However boring it sounds, it is very "us". We're quite the homebodies and we love to veg out and have movie nights.
I did feel a huge sense of sadness as I passed the gigantic Valentine's Day display in WalMart... not because I didn't have someone to celebrate with, but because I didn't get to buy any of those boxes of cards with Spiderman or weird cat faces to fill out and send to everyone.
I can't wait for my kids to pick out their own little cards (or better yet - make them!) and sit at the table for hours trying to write their classmates' names in their best handwriting. Though it'll probably be me siting at the table for hours, trying to write their classmates' names so it looks like my kid did it...
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Easy Treat: Cinnamon Sugar Tortilla Chips
We had to take our car into the shop the other day, which led us to be stranded at our house for two days with no transportation! We also happened to have eaten almost all of the food in our cupboards, and I was itching for something sweet.
This led to me to the Google Cookbook (I type in a few ingredients, followed by "recipe", and hit SEARCH). I managed to find this delectable and SUPER easy recipe for Cinnamon Sugar Tortilla Chips!
Ingredients:
- a few tablespoons of melted butter in a small dish
- 4 regular sized flour tortillas
- cinnamon sugar (which is something I always keep in the house for toast. I just throw about 1/4 cup sugar into a bowl and sprinkle cinnamon in it, then mix it til it gets the "right color". I suggested dipping a finger in and tasting to make sure its not too cinnamon-y.)
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Brush butter on one side of a tortilla. Sprinkle the cinnamon sugar mixture over the top of the buttered side (as much or as little as you like. I usually end up covering the entire tortilla, then picking it up and shaking off the excess sugar back into my bowl). Take a pizza cutter and cut the tortilla into your desired shapes (I make some triangles and some squares, 'cause we're fancy). Place them with the sugared-side up, onto a NON-greased cookie sheet. Bake for 7-10 minutes, or until the edges are starting to brown. We don't like our chips to be too crispy or burnt, so I usually take them out after 7 or 8 minutes (depending on how fast it takes me to react to the beeping oven timer). I immediately push them onto a plate with a spatula and let them sit for a minute or two before eating them (my Other Half, however, would rather burn his tongue).
You don't need to make anything to dip them in - they're delicious just on their own! However, I have found a recipe for a cookie-dough dip that would just be perfect with these little guys! Might have to try that out and let you know how it goes...
This led to me to the Google Cookbook (I type in a few ingredients, followed by "recipe", and hit SEARCH). I managed to find this delectable and SUPER easy recipe for Cinnamon Sugar Tortilla Chips!
Ingredients:
- a few tablespoons of melted butter in a small dish
- 4 regular sized flour tortillas
- cinnamon sugar (which is something I always keep in the house for toast. I just throw about 1/4 cup sugar into a bowl and sprinkle cinnamon in it, then mix it til it gets the "right color". I suggested dipping a finger in and tasting to make sure its not too cinnamon-y.)
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Brush butter on one side of a tortilla. Sprinkle the cinnamon sugar mixture over the top of the buttered side (as much or as little as you like. I usually end up covering the entire tortilla, then picking it up and shaking off the excess sugar back into my bowl). Take a pizza cutter and cut the tortilla into your desired shapes (I make some triangles and some squares, 'cause we're fancy). Place them with the sugared-side up, onto a NON-greased cookie sheet. Bake for 7-10 minutes, or until the edges are starting to brown. We don't like our chips to be too crispy or burnt, so I usually take them out after 7 or 8 minutes (depending on how fast it takes me to react to the beeping oven timer). I immediately push them onto a plate with a spatula and let them sit for a minute or two before eating them (my Other Half, however, would rather burn his tongue).
You don't need to make anything to dip them in - they're delicious just on their own! However, I have found a recipe for a cookie-dough dip that would just be perfect with these little guys! Might have to try that out and let you know how it goes...
Marry Me?
I was never one of those little girls who sat around planning my Dream Wedding. I didn't have a scrapbook with cut-out pictures of elaborate wedding dresses with sequins and glitter covering the pages.
As a "child of divorce", I grew up with no intention of ever getting married. In fact, I often told my friends that I wanted to be a single parent. I knew I wanted babies, and possibly a boyfriend, but I never wanted to get married. Marriage = Divorce. Ninety-five percent of my friends' parents were divorced. I didn't know what that nuclear family looked like. It just didn't seem possible.
Then I met my Other Half. I fell in love with him within months of meeting him, though it took him a little longer to fall for me. But when it happened, I just knew that this was the guy that I was going to grow old with. I could picture us surrounded by grand-kids. Him with his calloused hands and stories of superheros, and me in my apron in the kitchen canning applesauce like my grandpa taught me.
My Other Half and I got engaged within months of becoming an official couple. We had discussed marriage and kids, and we knew it was for us. So we set a date, and I began planning my Dream Wedding. Of course, we were only 18 and time flew by faster than we expected, so we put the wedding on hold. We set another date, and another, and each time life took us by storm and we had to start planning over again. We just celebrated our three year anniversary, and we are still waiting for that time that having the wedding of our dreams will come along.
We're still young. We've got all of the time in the world to get married. When we do eventually get married (and I promise you, it WILL happen), it has to be magical. It has to be the epitome of "us". I refuse to settle for "okay" or "satisfactory".
It will be me and him, and maybe a couple kids running around, wrapped in a big bow of delicious nerdiness.
As a "child of divorce", I grew up with no intention of ever getting married. In fact, I often told my friends that I wanted to be a single parent. I knew I wanted babies, and possibly a boyfriend, but I never wanted to get married. Marriage = Divorce. Ninety-five percent of my friends' parents were divorced. I didn't know what that nuclear family looked like. It just didn't seem possible.
Then I met my Other Half. I fell in love with him within months of meeting him, though it took him a little longer to fall for me. But when it happened, I just knew that this was the guy that I was going to grow old with. I could picture us surrounded by grand-kids. Him with his calloused hands and stories of superheros, and me in my apron in the kitchen canning applesauce like my grandpa taught me.
My Other Half and I got engaged within months of becoming an official couple. We had discussed marriage and kids, and we knew it was for us. So we set a date, and I began planning my Dream Wedding. Of course, we were only 18 and time flew by faster than we expected, so we put the wedding on hold. We set another date, and another, and each time life took us by storm and we had to start planning over again. We just celebrated our three year anniversary, and we are still waiting for that time that having the wedding of our dreams will come along.
We're still young. We've got all of the time in the world to get married. When we do eventually get married (and I promise you, it WILL happen), it has to be magical. It has to be the epitome of "us". I refuse to settle for "okay" or "satisfactory".
It will be me and him, and maybe a couple kids running around, wrapped in a big bow of delicious nerdiness.
I dream of babies...
I started my very own "Babysitter's Club" when I was 11 years old.
We made flyers, had meetings, and dreamed of all of the cute little babies we were going to watch. We made practice homework for older kids, and gathered coloring books and first-aid kits to put in our Babysitting Bags, which were meant to be brought with us whenever we got a babysitting job. I was only 11, but all I wanted to do was care for a baby.
Its now ten years later, and my desires have not changed. All I want is a baby to care for. I thought babysitting would ease that broody feeling in my heart (and my ovaries), but it only makes it worse. I want a baby! I want to do it all. Feed them, burp them, change their catastrophic diapers. Teach them new words and take them to the park. Wake up six times in the middle of the night because they are hungry. Seriously, all of it. I need it. I'm meant for it.
I'm 21 years old, and I've got my entire life ahead of me. A life full of babies. And poopy diapers. And I want that to start sooner, rather than later. I'm in a committed relationship with a man that I've loved since high school; a man that I think will make a great Daddy (something I never experienced myself!). I can't wait to make tons of babies with him in the not-so-far future. Well, maybe we'll start with one.
We made flyers, had meetings, and dreamed of all of the cute little babies we were going to watch. We made practice homework for older kids, and gathered coloring books and first-aid kits to put in our Babysitting Bags, which were meant to be brought with us whenever we got a babysitting job. I was only 11, but all I wanted to do was care for a baby.
Its now ten years later, and my desires have not changed. All I want is a baby to care for. I thought babysitting would ease that broody feeling in my heart (and my ovaries), but it only makes it worse. I want a baby! I want to do it all. Feed them, burp them, change their catastrophic diapers. Teach them new words and take them to the park. Wake up six times in the middle of the night because they are hungry. Seriously, all of it. I need it. I'm meant for it.
I'm 21 years old, and I've got my entire life ahead of me. A life full of babies. And poopy diapers. And I want that to start sooner, rather than later. I'm in a committed relationship with a man that I've loved since high school; a man that I think will make a great Daddy (something I never experienced myself!). I can't wait to make tons of babies with him in the not-so-far future. Well, maybe we'll start with one.
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