Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Note to Self: Plants Die When Shut in the Freezer Door

When we first got married, I went on various cooking endeavors and tested some of the worst recipes possible, including a horrible salmon, dill and yogurt dish that not only my husband had to suffer through, but also my unlucky sister who happened to be spending the night with us. I have grown into a much better cook in the last five years; it only takes two tries to not burn the cinnamon toast instead of four, I can tell the difference between done and raw cookies most of the time and I no longer have to yank the pineapple upside down cake from the oven as it overflows like a volcano. These scenarios all happened. And more that I won't mention here...which involve peaches, burned pie crust, panic attacks and crying helplessly on the apartment balcony...

My husband loves cornbread more than anything, and they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach...so I got the bright idea that I would make some delicious cornbread for my growing man and dazzle him with my cooking abilities. This happened in the first year we were married. And it was a fail of epic proportions, which involved approximately five to ten phone calls to my mom, cornbread that was burned, stuck and raw in the middle, and a huge burn on my arm.

Let's just say history repeated itself tonight...I decided that Mexican cornbread would go deliciously with the King Ranch Chicken I was making for supper tonight. That is, cornbread that is not stuck in the iron skillet and not done in the middle. Luckily we were able to piece the entire bottom layer back onto the cornbread like a huge puzzle piece. King Ranch was good, though. I have to give credit to my friend from work, who is actually and excellent cook, whose recipe I used. My corn bread of any sort just doesn't turn out like my mom's...

I, evidently, am not suzie homemaker yet. As evidenced by the cornbread incidences plus the fact that I found a large portion of my plant that goes on top of my fridge dead and frozen because it was shut in the freezer door.

I blame the "pre-seasoned" iron skillet. (if by pre-seasoned Emeril Lagasse means guaranteed to grab onto and hold firmly in place anything that touches the bottom of the skillet.)

I'm going to take it to Oklahoma and either leave it on the side of the road or make my mom try it out to see if cornbread sticks in it for her.

It will. Because I'm sure this is all part of a giant ploy to make me think that cornbread is actually SUPPOSED to be burned, stuck and raw in the middle.

I'M ON TO YOU, EMERIL. You will not win.

'til next time...

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

First Day of School

She stood in the front of the room, surveying all the hard work and hours put into the scene before her.  Anxiety crept into the pit of her stomach like a drop of food coloring infiltrating a cup of water.  It fought with the feeling of excitement that had been there all summer as she had spent countless hours laminating, cutting, arranging, sorting, alphabetizing, and planning for the 24 individuals about to enter her classroom.

This was it.  The chance to make a difference.  The chance to let all her hard work pay off.  The chance to make a kid smile or feel confident.  But it seemed like the carefully decorated walls were about to cave in during the last five minutes before the bell rang.  And then, it rang.  Twenty-four excited, smiling faces entered the room with anticipation of what the year would bring.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Is that a peach in your pants?

Or are you just happy to see me?  Inappropriate?  Maybe.  Pregnant?  Definitely....I'm going to have a peach tomorrow...and it's not fitting in my pants that well......too bad yoga pants aren't included in the dress code at work.

Whats funny is that we honestly think the baby magically grows overnight and graduates to the next size every Tuesday night, because that's when the "What to Expect" app changes every week...According to the countdown, we are going on week 13!  Can't wait to be out of the first trimester...it's almost as scary as the terrifying woolite commercial.  I will be able to breath easier once we get there...a mere 7 days!

On a different note, I'm planning to start reading The Help this weekend.  A dear friend told me to read it over a year ago and I have been meaning to...now that I have less than a week until the movie comes out, I had better get moving.  Nothing like pure and simple procrastination....

One thing I won't be procrastinating on is picking out baby furniture.  I already have tentative selections, pending upon bedding choice, which heavily depends on what the little technician sees on September 14th!!

Destination: Baby City!  And I'm the Mayor!