Books Unread, Jokes Untold-the pursuit of life

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Afro Chickens November 17, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized — booksunread @ 1:02 pm

Hey, Remember that totally awesome cookie idea I had?

{Cue Sad Trombone}
Whap whaaaaappp

I sent them to daycare anyway. They’re three, if I tell them they’re turkeys, they might believe me.


Weekend November 14, 2011

Filed under: Daily Grind,Getting my Martha On,Schmooper — booksunread @ 6:27 pm

How is it that I spent an hour plus in the grocery store, with a list, filled an entire cart to the brim and still managed to forget a number of key items? One of which was eggs. So yeah, no baking this weekend. I did manage to get the bulk of the shopping done, make and freeze sweet potatoes, dressing, an appetizer, a stash of sautéed onions for various recipes and some turkey sausage for lasagne next weekend.

And I ran one day and worked out the next. But I also went to breakfast at Cracker Barrel and to a Mexican place for dinner so I think that cancels it out. (The Weenut’s* reaction to CB’s giant roaring fire place? “FIRE! AHHHH!” So fire safety week at day care was apparently effective.)

Then the dryer broke. And the sump pump. WTF? Both are new since we bought the house five years ago.

Oh, and then we had arts and crafts homework for DAYCARE. They sent home two pieces of construction paper taped together with instructions to make a “Family Banner” by writing our name at the top and tracing and decorating each of our hands. And you know I couldn’t just scribble some shit on there with a crayon and call it a day, right? I must say I’m quite proud of my handprint turned flower pot. Weenut’s artistic vision needs some fine tuning as he just covered his with scribbles and Cars stickers. But he stayed in the lines, so win!

Another precious memory to record: My MIL bought him a totally age inappropriate but beautiful ABC popup book for his first Christmas. Each letter reveals an amazingly detailed die cut tableau of an animal that starts with that letter. I’ve just finally started reading it with Weenut, at bedtime, when I can stop him from ripping the heads off the Okapi and Quetzal. Anywho, as we went through it Friday night, he started asking me if they have each animal at the zoo. (Although he skipped it on dinosaur, was just waiting to have to explain that one. Unconscious genius, I tell you.) When we got to panda and I was struggling to remember if our zoo had any, and started to answer, yes, he cut me off and said “No, they’re ‘in danger.’” I guess I’m getting my money’s worth out of the day care or my cable bill, because I certainly didn’t teach him that.

*Like I said, squidgy doesn’t really work now, so Weenut it is, because he’s still my little peanut weenut even if he’s not a squidgy baby any more. What? Shut up?


Turkey Time! November 11, 2011

Filed under: Getting my Martha On — booksunread @ 2:30 pm

Whee! It’s that time of year when I get my Martha on and start feverishly planning my assault on Thanksgiving. After a break last year, we are hosting Spam and Slobetta again this year, now with an extra spamlet.

While it wasn’t Spam and Slobetta last year, we did have company and by the time all the food was on the table, I didn’t even care about eating. All I wanted to do was go out and buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke them all with a jug of wine chaser. So I’m racking my brains with ways to keep it simple this year, which is causing my inner Martha quite a bit of cognitive dissonance.

Since our guests this year are far from gourmands, I thought about just making potatoes and stuffing from boxes. And then someone on Facebook pointed out the chemical ingredients in these things and I feel kind of grossed out now. I may just go ahead with the stuffing and just not eat it myself, because I guarantee I’ll be the only one at the table that ever gives a thought to processed foods.

I’m going to try to make some stuff ahead and freeze it this weekend. My Memere’s traditional dressing freezes well and I always make that ahead. I’m going to roast and mash my sweet potatoes. Was thinking about making the cake part of some pumpkin whoopee pies. Chocolate chip cookies hold up pretty well. Oh, and my over-ripe banana stash in the freezer is starting to get full so I thought I’d do some banana zucchini bread muffins.

I’m starting this weekend rather than next because my inlaws have FINALLY decided that maybe they’d like to come spend some time with their grandson. (For the first time since his first Christmas. Even then, that trip was probably 75% motivated by the fact that the favorite grandchild was going to be there.) Anywho, in deference to suiting the schedule of said favored grandchild, they have chosen the weekened immediately before Thanksgiving to come visit. Convenient. So I have to plan meals and entertainment for everyone that weekend too.

I’m sure in a week I’ll be all stressy exclamation points up in here, but right now, I’m kinda of excited and all festive-y. I can’t wait to bust out my mini cookie cutters and start stamping out leaf, acorn and pumpkin shaped butter pats. (OH YEAH, I DO!) I also have a rather insane cookie idea that would be so. fucking. awesome…if I pull it off, but is more likely to end in tears. Stay tuned!


Chick Chick November 10, 2011

Filed under: Schmooper — booksunread @ 2:16 pm

“Chick Chick is my baby. My teeny, tiny little baby,” he declares as he cradles the stuffed toy in his arms. “Awwww. She’s sooo cute!” he continues.

Three is pretty cool. The random flashes of wisdom beyond his years. The memory like an elephant, especially for the things you’d wish he’d forget. His exclamations of “Oh CRASH!” as a train topples off the track that we at first heard as “Oh CRAP!” The role play and pretending. Last night we were playing cars and he said to me “You’re my sister. C’mon sister, let’s drive over here and have a race!”

On the flip side, three is pretty annoying. The stubbornness that doesn’t respond to any threats of punishment. He’ll tell you “I don’t want to watch Chuggington ANYWAY! AT ALL!” as he pouts. The big fat crocodile tears that he calls up when he doesn’t get his way. The continuing shitty eating, now with the maddening “I only like school rice/pizza/pasta.”

But, oh. Even when he’s kind of being an asshole, he’s still “sooo cute.” It’s all slipping by so fast (and yet the next 15ish years of raising him seem like a really long time) and I miss using this space to record it all. So for the fifty frillionth time, committing to writing again.