Shoe Envy

Violet loves shoes. I’ve raised my little girl right. The other day we were at target, and she was trying to put pairs of shoes over her other shoes. AJ made a comment about her being obsessed with shoes and I said, “Hey, at least it’s not purses.” She also likes to wear shoes in the house all day, and would never think of leaving the house without a pair on.

Today she had a friend visit. Little Isla sat down and made the mistake of exposing her cute shoes. Violet promptly snatched the closest one off her foot and ran away.

(this evening we discovered that Violet can now identify all her facial parts. here I thought she was ignoring me..)

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Creme de la Cream Pie

is all gone. I have some pictures, but i’m downstairs and the laptop is being retarded, so you’ll have to wait till later.

from the way I talk sometimes, you’d think I lived in a big house. This is not so; I am merely lazy and do not wish to travel from one 500 square foot floor to another.

Anyway, I’m having major writer’s block tonight…I was totally counting on posting some pictures to make you jealous of my pie so that I wouldn’t have to be creative and write something worth reading.

You still there? Shame on you! wasting time on the internet again..

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Boston: almost check

That’s right, we have an almost-confirmed couchsurfing host in beantown. That means we now have 12 out of 17 nights taken care of, which equals: AWESOME. The host has to check with her roommates, so I told her to tell them I’d bake them each a pie which is also awesome because that means we get pie too.

Today I made Creme de la Cream Pie (coconut, banana, chocolate, peanut butter cream pie). It is currently chilling in the fridge. It tastes awesome. (just the parts I sampled in the making process.)

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It’s Official

I have an officially scheduled date for the birth of the next Fat Monkey Dessert. This time we’re going with Creme de la Cream Pie. As in the best of cream pies in one amazing pie. Here’s the rundown.

Oreo crust ( I think)

Then a layer of coconut cream pie creamy goodness.

Next a layer of sliced bananas.

Then, I’ll add a layer of chocolate cream pie goodness with peanut butter.

And top it off with a drizzle of kahlua…hmm, no maybe just whipped cream and a dusting of toasted coconut and  then  a drizzle of kahlua. Yeah. Creme de la Cream Pie, I’ll be seeing you on Sunday.

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and why?

I bought a box of Cap’n Crunch today. Don’t ask me why; it was on sale and I’ve never had it before. I have discovered two things. One, it is impossibly hard to find a picture of the back of this cereal box to show you, and two, Cap’n Crunch and all the kids on the back of the box look completely wigged out on sugar. Which brings me to my question; why would any parent want their child to remotely resemble the sugar-crazed cretins on the back of the box? They don’t just look like a bunch of happy cartoon kids playing on a ship, they look like they’ve got sugar fever, and the only cure…is more sugar, as they maniacally work out on the ship’s obstacle course with lolling tongues and bugged out eyes. Please, that can’t be healthy.

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The Met, Aliens, and a Duck

I am so excited to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, and finding out that the entrance price is only “suggested” can only make it more appealing because now we can have lunch afterwards! haha. well…maybe more than a split slice of pizza.

(Which, let me tell you; splitting something three ways is dramatically different than splitting it two ways. Violet can eat her weight in food, and gone are the days of ordering one thing off the menu and sharing.)

Anyway, I just had an epiphany this evening and I’d like you to be the first to know. You know all the consipracy theories about how the aliens  must have helped the Egyptians build the pyramids and all that stuff because it seems humanly impossible? Well, here’s my epiphany.

Here is a picture of an alien.

Here is a statue of an Egyptian Pharaoh (Amenhotep III whom I shall see face to face at the Met.)

My theory? The Egyptians were Aliens.

Here’s why:

This man is an Egyptian, and he looks nothing like those oval-eyed Pharoah’s of old.

Hmmm, it just occurred to me that someone may have already come to this conclusion. Just remember, You Heard it First, From Pearl Hurst.

Ok, this is purely gratuitous because I can’t resist showing you. When I googled faces of aliens for the first picture, I found an article which I shall link to here. Apparently some scientists were x-raying a duck with a broken wing, when they saw the face of an alien in the stomach of the duck. Don’t believe me? See for yourself. (see lower right of duck’s stomach.)

the funny part is that they say the duck died shortly after from “complications.” Which I translate to meaning they quickly killed the duck so they could open it up and find the alien.

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Lesson for the day

Sometimes life gives you lemons. You’ve probably heard in the past that you should make lemonade with those lemons, or throw them back. How about this one? When life gives you lemons, build a lemonade stand and use the profits of your business to buy a machine gun. Let’s see if life makes the same mistake twice. Anyway, the point is… not really obvious even to me here besides the fact that you can find a bunch of “if life gives you lemons” quotes on the internet.

Here, watch this…you’ll see what I mean.

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Dance, Dance, Revolution

Today’s post goes out to Pastor Tim Poetzl. Apparently, he’s come up with a unique way to teach his young children the art of genuine forgiveness and apologies.

It goes like this:

1. have your children hold hands and face each other.

2. next, they must either sing songs made up on the spot of how much they love each other,

or

3. tell each other things they like about each other.

He was laughing in the recounting of a recent incident involving one such “punishment” because of how funny and hard it is for children to have to apologize this way…funny, and hard, and effective.  You see, when I was growing up, my siblings and I fought “like junkyard dogs” as my mother would say. It’s not like we had any lasting bitterness towards each other, but…siblings fight–it’s one of the facts of life unless you are the product of immaculate conception. My parent’s method for getting us to make up? Slow dancing. That’s right–you thought holding hands and singing songs to your nemesis sounded painful? Try slow dancing, complete with the arm on the shoulder and the hand on the waist as you twirl the living room to the “dancing” music sung by your delighted parents while you hold on to the one person you nearly came to blows with moments earlier.  See, slow dancing has a way of making most people feel somewhat ridiculous, and when you feel ridiculous and that ridiculous moment is shared with another person who feels equally ridiculous–you get a completely different perspective on the tiff you were just having.

AJ and I can’t wait to try out both of these methods some day.

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Don’t try and fool me!

Dear New England Aquarium in Boston,

Please do not advertise that you have a North Atlantic Right Whale in your exhibit. With sizes around 55 feet long and nearly 80 tons, I was very excited. I was especially interested to watch you feed it zooplankton, because I’ve always wanted to see that up close. Needless to say, the tank would have had to have been huge, but that’s also another thing I was looking forward to. Anyway, it is very misleading to list it on your website next to the Moon Jelly and the Green Sea Turtle, because that makes it seem like you actually have it.  I’ll be blunt here, saying that you have a whale on exhibit, when you really mean you have whale watching tours in the nearby harbor is devious trickery of the basest sort.

I will be taking my business elsewhere, thank you very much!

Sincerely, Leg-pulled in washington

 

Dear Leg-pulled,

It appears you didn’t actually read about our aquarium very much, because you would have found that everythingis actually found in it’s indigenous environment in the ocean. We have glass-bottom boats, where guests can cram together on the floor to see if a stray fish swims by (we’ve been inundated with illegal fishing as of late) or to see if they can see the coral grow. In addition to the whale watching tours, we also have a submarine that we submerge into the harbor. We’ve been baiting it with raw tuna to attract predators, and although we’ve only been seeing errant sea lions every once in a while, we do hope to see a wide range of sea life including, a Lion fish, the American Lobster, a Cownose Ray, the Giant Pacific Octopus, and an Atlantic Harbor Seal. This is the kind of excitement that can last you a lifetime.

Please reconsider your visit, we hope to see you soon,

-The New England Aquarium

 

 

 

yeah….

So this afternoon, I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes when Violet came up behind me. She tilted her head methodically and bit me on the back of my thigh.

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retrospect

When my second brother ( I have 5) was about 2 or 3, he would repeatedly vocalize any action he was doing. You’d tell him to go hide for hide and go seek, and he’d put a couch cushion over his face and say “Hide, hide, hide, hide.” Not all the time, just often enough to make it a memory.

One day my dad took the first two boys with him to an estate sale to get some tools. He found a box of stuff, but didn’t want to carry it around while he looked, so he told Coloray and Trustin to guard the box for him so that no one else would take it. As soon as he left, Trustin hovered protectively over the tools and started saying “Guard, guard, guard…” so that everyone would know he was guarding the tools. Apparently Coloray got embarrassed and told him to stop. At which point, a man walked up and took the box of tools.

memories are important to write down; someday you will most likely forget them.

Once, Coloray and I had a conversation in which we both agreed that everyone goes through an ugly phase. For most people it is shortly after their adult teeth come in and they’re all gangly, big-toothed, and not old enough to be selfconcious enough to make sure they look ok. We were probably 13 and 11 when we had this conversation and we concluded that we were so relieved to have our “ugly years” behind us, but when I look back at our pictures from this age, we look every bit as awkward as we did in our “ugly phase.”

When my sister Angel was a little girl, she was convinced it was her destiny to be ballerina. I told her that every little girl feels this way, and that she’d grow out of it when she was as “mature” as me. She was very mad at me and pointed her tiny toes insistently as if their cuteness was proof of her destiny. She eventually grew out of it, which is good, because she’s way too short to be a ballerina.

Anyway, this post goes out to Trustin who will be 22 in a few short days. One more Trustin story.

When we lived in eastern washington, we had no running water or electricity. Plus, we lived “off the land” between farm animals and a huge garden. Needless to say, Jello was no everyday occurrence. Once for a special treat my parents got some jello from the store (or maybe someone gave it to us, I don’t remember which). Since we had no electricity and therefore no fridge, we decided to chill the Jello in a plastic milk carton. It was lime, I only remember because I was kind of cheated out of it, but I’m jumping ahead of myself. My mom and I poured the jello mix and water into the plastic jug. When it was done setting by chilling in the spring, we would cut the top half off the carton to serve it. I headed down the hill and tied the jug by the handle to a stick so it wouldn’t float away.

Four hours later, in eager anticipation Coloray and I headed down to the spring to get dessert. Too bad Trustin had been there first and had eaten it ALL when it was still soft enough to shake out the top opening. We didn’t think it was funny.

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I never did have a problem with prioritizing…

Don’t judge me just because you’re jealous.

in threeish weeks we are going to the east coast for a couple weeks to bask in culture, history, adventure, and…food. That’s right; you say “DC” and I say, “Amazing selections of ethnic foods!” You say, “Philadelphia” and I say “Philly Cheesesteak sandwiches!” You say “New York” and I say “Cheesecake, Pizza, and hotdogs from a street vendor!” You say, “Boston” and I say “Boston cream pie and Boston baked beans.”

Whew! I get hungry just thinking about it. I have no problem admitting that I dearly love great foods. (Key there being great).

I mentioned earlier this year that we were going to Philly to find out once and for all who was better: Pats or Geno\’s cheese steaks sandwiches. Now we have to add Jim\’s because that’s what the locals have told us. We only have one full day in Philly, so that’s going to mean a lot of cheesesteak in a short amount of time. For those of you who are wondering, it’ll be “wit” please!

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I love gullible people.

Today I walked to Safeway with a friend of mine who shall remain nameless due to her highly gullible nature.

We both bought bags of grapes, and she started eating hers as soon as we left the store.

“Don’t eat your grapes, they’re covered in pesticides!”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to wait till we get home–I’ll just rub them off.” She shrugged and began rubbing the grapes between her fingers and her shirt.

“You do know that doesn’t actually get the germs, off, right?”

“Yes it does, if you rub them the heat from the friction kills the germs.”

“Where on earth did you hear that?” I asked.

“This doctor told me and Holly that,” she retorted.

“What kind of a doctor, a quack doctor?”

“No, he’s not a quack doctor, he’s a real doctor, like a doctor doctor.”

Apparently, this doctor told my friend and her friend, that rubbing your hands together real fast kills germs. Aside from the obvious fact that rubbing hands together doesn’t address obvious areas like fingernails and skin creases…heat from friction? Really? He actually told them that this is why you see surgeons rubbing their hands together in movies before they put their gloves on.

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Enclave

That’s the word of the day, folks: Enclave.

It’s a distinct territory or social unit within the boundaries of another territory.

Besides the fact that it’s an awesome sounding word, and should really be reintroduced into daily conversation, this word makes me think of home. It’s that place that only belongs to you and a select few others; hopefully a place where you feel safe, happy, loved, and challenged. One of the awesome things about being a wife and a mother, is that I am the one who gets to set the mood and direction for my household. My actions directly affect whether or not home is going to be a peaceful space that my husband and children want to come back to at the end of the day. Not that they wouldn’t want to come back with the way I can cook, but I can’t imagine how rough it would be to get off work or school and not want to come home to a stressful situation. I’m reminded of this responsibility as I spend more time fitting into my new roles, and I know that even if the laundry doesn’t get done, I want my house to be a peaceful place. FYI: this blog was more for me than you. Selfish of me, I know.

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Hmmm. (it sounds better with three “m’s”)

Violet may or may not have sucked toothpaste straight from the tube today. She also may or may not have spent the evening chewing on the rubber top of her baby tylenol bottle. You may or may not have noticed that I’m not prone to freaking out over baby-related stuff.

FYI: I now want Ticket To Ride for my birthday. You know who you are.

Tonight for dinner we had pepperoni pizza–homemade. FYI, if you have the time always make your own pizzas–it builds character.

Here’s my pizza dough recipe. (it works for anything in the bread family and even some cousins, depending on how creative you are.)

Listening to kids’ conversations totally cracks me up. Today Violet and I were at the park outside my house and there were a couple middle-school aged children sitting on the picnic tables talking.  They were mostly boys and they were talking on the general subject of rocket engines and NOS, and how having access to one or both of these things would totally make them amazing motocrossers.

“Yeah, if I had my Dad’s dirt bike, I would totally get some NOS for it. I’d do all these jumps and stuff.”

“Are you kidding me? I would get a jetpack and then I could jump higher than you and do a ton of tricks.”

“Can you mix NOS with a jetpack?”

boys…

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I realize this probably doesn’t count as a blog, but…

Pearl’s Amazing and Guilt-Free Cinamon Rolls

  1. make a batch of bread dough.
  2. open a jar of apple butter
  3. roll out the bread dough into a rectangle.
  4. cover in plentiful amounts of apple butter.
  5. roll up lengthwise.
  6. cut with a sharp knife or floss.
  7. it will be very messy
  8. place in greased pan.
  9. dump remaining apple butter over the top of the rolls.
  10. bake.
  11. eat plain or with some fat-free cream cheese frosting.
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2ish thingamajigs

1. We have some couchsurfers from Baltimore spending the night tonight. Awesome. If I never post on this again, it’s because they killed us in our sleep. Haha.

2. I was out with some girlfriends last night till 2ish, so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t post a blog. Who knows what that might have turned out like. One thing’s for sure; 2am is a lot later than it used to be.

2ish. I think it would be really funny to always use colloquial catch-phrases in the wrong context. Like this:

You see someone run a red light and you exclaim, “Say it, don’t spray it!”

Your friend tells you about their day and you respond by saying, “When in Rome…”

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Some things should be more important.

First, here are a few pictures from today of Violet being Violet (read adorable and persnickety).

johndeere

We were at a store that rhymes with Foam Teapot. Actually, it rhymes with Comb Repo, but the thought of a collector trying to repo a comb is…ridiculous. Foam Teapot it is. Violet being Violet did not want to be held or strapped into a stroller; all she wanted to do was walk around in her new shoes and admire the “giant tractors”…or lawnmowers–whatever.

carseat

Bear with me here, I had to use a cell-phone camera. Either way, this is still completely adorable. It’s pretty hard to remember how…persnickety she can be when she’s sleeping like an angel.

One thing I’m constantly thankful for now that I’m a mom is the simple blessing of always being able to keep Violet fed, clothed, and loved. Many many mother’s all over the world do not have this luxury and are living out a parent’s worst nightmare; watching your child die before your eyes through the ravages of disease, malnutrition, war, or simply poverty.

The issue of world hunger is a daunting one. So much so that any efforts of one person can feel futile and hopeless. That’s why we sponsor children. The immediate and measurable impact you can have on a child and their whole family is almost selfishly gratifying. So here we go, I’m not going to talk about starving babies covered in flies and tell you to call an 800 number. I’m going to talk about hope. Hope for children and their parents. Give a gift to one parent; one mother, one father. Start sponsoring a child today. You don’t have an excuse if you live in America. You’ve already won the cosmic lottery that says that you can take care for your loved ones if you need to.

We sponsor children through two of the following organizations, and donate through the other one for things like goats for a village and so forth. I’m not saying this so that you will think I’m rich or that I’m tooting my own horn, but so that you can be challenged to change lives forever.

Compassion International

Childcare Worldwide

World Vision

get to it people.

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several things, pertinent or not.

Violet is officially a walker. Meaning, not a crawler …ever again…sad. *sniff*

AJ just found a watermelon seed in the clean laundry. That means it went through the washer and dryer. interesting.

I spent my morning contacting potential hosts for couchsurfing during our three week tour of the east coast. Yes, they might be an ax-murderer, yes, i’m doing it anyway. Actually, couchsurfing is an awesome way to travel besides the obvious perk of free housing. You get to meet locals who set you up with the best tips and tricks to get around town, make new friends who are probably way different from you, and eat interesting new foods. The percentage of people who have a solely negative experience with couchsurfing is extremely small.  We actually have a couchsurfing couple coming to spend saturday night with us all the way from baltimore. Parting thought: if you have one adventurous bone in your body, you need to try couchsurfing.

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to blog blag blav blave

“Yeah, true love is the greatest thing in the world, except for a nice MLT- mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich, when the mutton is nice and lean, and the tomato is ripe. They’re so perky. I love that. But that’s not what he said. He distinctly said “To blave”, and as we all know, to blave means to bluff, heh? So you were probably playing cards, and he cheated.”

if you can guess who said that, I’ll give you a million dollhairs.

Whenever my siblings and I make promises like that we always rely on simple technicalities to get us out of our end of the deal. Case in point,

“Yes, if you will do the dishes for me I will pay you twenty dollhairs.”

“Twenty dollars! Do you promise”

an hour later and dishes done…

“Where’s my twenty dollars?”

“Haha! I said twenty dollhairs, not dollars. Do you want me to go pull some hair out of the doll’s head for you?”

Another favorite was writing out a contract and having both parties sign it. However, as you’ve probably already guessed, those contracts were usually rife with technical errors so we wouldn’t have to pay up. Everyone would read them over very carefully, but it was hard to catch everything. A misspelling in the signature at the bottom, the wrong date at the top…my favorite is to sign with my maiden name because my siblings don’t catch it until after my car is washed.

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The Sauce Stashers

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You’ve seen them…furtively grabbing hand fulls of hot sauce packets for their lonely little taco, using one and then shoving the rest in their pockets. Men in power suits with a laptop, old women with flowers on their hat, little kids with big pockets in their baggy jeans. All of them–sauce stashers. It’s not stealing if they’re free, right? I think our personal record is…a ton. literally, almost a ton. You see, I am a sauce stasher. I wasn’t always this way, until once upon a time I got married to a shameless sauce stasher who had perfected the snatch, stash, and dash routine with the local Taco Bell. At first I resisted his advances to put his hand-fulls of sauce in my purse for our “lunch” (and dinner, and lunch, and dinner, and…) but when I realized that doing so meant I was walking out of Taco Bell next to a man with bulging pockets and hands full of sauce packets, and that Taco Bell sauce makes amazing quesadillas at home….well, lets just say I’m one of them now.

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hmmmm

Yes, i know i didn’t blog yesterday. No, i’m not actually blogging today either. sorry.

maybe

when

the

house

is

clean

and

the

music

is

played

and

the

baby

is

fed

and

the

husband

is

hugged

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To Do:

suck the helium out of your daughter’s old birthday balloons and sing to her. She may be indifferent to the tonal changes in you voice, but I promise you’ll get a kick out of yourself.

So apparently, there’s this place socks go to. I’m not sure where it is, or how they get there, but somewhere there is a giant room full of mismatched socks. When I still lived at home with my parents, all my siblings knew where that room was because I kept losing my socks. If you share a house and a laundry room with nine other people, there’s bound to be at least one person with a sock-vendetta in the laundry room at any given time. I was quite relived once I got married and moved in with AJ to find that he had no idea where this room was either, and so we lived many blissful years of matched socks. The end.

oh wait, we had a baby. Not only does she know where this room is, she aggressively searches for socks to put there. When I was folding laundry this afternoon, she crawled up and snatched one out of the pile and headed off to find a suitable portal to the sock room.

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so.

Quote of the Day:

“If every time I fussed someone stuffed cheese in my mouth, I’d be cranky too!”

Violet loves cheese. she loves it so much that she’ll already be begging for more when she still has her mouth full.

I saw a picture of a rooster today. It reminded me of Dan Quail. Not Dan Quayle, although his amazing hair may or may not have inspired my parents to name our rooster after him.

This isn’t actually a picture of Dan Quail, but it is a picture of Dan Quayle. You see the resemblance? Actually, Quail looked much more like Quayle in real life. You’ll be happy to know, he was an undefeated rooster; he had a giant harem, and he lived to be 95 in chicken years.

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I need to know

have you ever tasted cat poop?

Someone who shall remain nameless at his insistent begging, was telling me a story about eating a warm chocolate chip cookie when he was younger. He said that he was also petting the new kitten and proceeded to lick the chocolate off that he found on his hand before he realized that it was probably cat poop. (The cat wasn’t so good about leaving all of it’s business in the kitty litter box) He also may or may not have crunched down on a piece of kitty litter.

Here’s the thing; he’s not sure. He doesn’t remember what it tasted like–chocolate or something else.

riddle me this:

i need to know

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5 Things You May or May Not Know

  1. mikes hard mango punch is worth every penny.
  2. you can get sunburns on top of other sunburns.
  3. murphy’s law is real. just ask AJ’s dad and his boat.
  4. it is possible to go an entire day without realizing your underwear are on inside out.
  5. i got a best of show ribbon at the local fair for this picture.

DSC00980a

i don’t see it, but i’m not about to look this gift horse in the mouth.

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