Tuesday, October 27, 2009

P to the I to the YEP YEP YEP

My new thing is pies.

All right, all right, if you know me, you know that pies aren't exactly my "new" thing. I already sang the praises of Ken Haedrich and I've been rockin' around the clock every fall since '07, living it up with my cookbook.

But my NEW new thing about my pie book is that I am CHALLENGING MYSELF (even more than making my own pie crust, which BTW, can I even tell you how much danker my pies are now that I make my own crust? It's like the easiest thing in the world when you make it with a mixer, and it tastes 2,000,000 times better) TO A PIE MAKE-OFF.

Which is to say, I am making NEW PIES THAT I HAVE NOT YET TRIED for the next four weeks, at least, leading up to the great Pie-a-Thon that is Thanksgiving.

So today I made the first "new pie," which is called Tarte de Sucre (Sugar Pie). Getting back to my French-Canadian roots, y'all! (Did you know I am part French-Canadian? Thanks to my gramma!) It's basically a layer of crumble, topped with MAPLE SYRUP, and topped again with crumble, which makes a most appetizing and very baklava-tasting treat.

Want to see?



BAM! SUGAR PIE!

What's your favorite kind of pie? WRITE IN AND I MIGHT MAKE IT.

Friday, October 23, 2009

I'm Weird 'Cause I Hate Goodbyes!

Vee has a pleasure which he SHOULD feel guilty about, which is listening to the pop-rock/"alterna"/whatever the hell they're calling major label music these days station. More often than not, he can only listen to it when the Kid is asleep or when he's driving around on his own, because DUDE! SORRY, but have you HEARD any songs recently? I do NOT need the Kid listening to "LOL :)" which is one of the more horrifying things I have ever heard, especially with the "I love Fisher Price!" intro which just makes it INSANELY offensive.

But you know, they're not all OFFENSIVE. Well, not in the traditional sense of the word, because MY EMOTIONAL CAPACITY is offended by the twee-ness of one of Vee's favorite songs: "Fireflies" by Owl City.

A.) OWL CITY? Twee name! A city populated by owls! Soooooooo KEY-UTE!

B.) The dude's delivery of words is so riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-diculous, gulping and spitting the words like he can't believe he's getting to sing in front of a microphone, and like if he sings like a kid, maybe we will all exclaim "HOW PRECIOUS!"

C.) The song is all about how FIREFLIES ARE ALL AROUND HIS ROOM and they are only there when he's asleep. ADORABLE!

D.) God, how can I even do this without dissing every lyric? "I'd get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs." HUGS FROM BUGS! YOU CUTIE! OMFG! "They tried to teach me how to dance, a foxtrot above my head." AS IF ANYONE 23 YEARS OLD KNOWS SHIT ABOUT FOXTROTTING. Owl City Dude, unless you went to COTILLION when you were in OWATONNA, MN, I can guaran-damn-tee you that you don't know a foxtrot from anything other than 'Dancing with the Stars' and your desire to reference something arcane is SO DUMB!

E.) Seriously. "I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes." Dude, WHO DO YOU THINK YOUR TARGET AUDIENCE IS? I know you're singing to teens crying in their bedrooms, but FOR. REAL. Does anyone really believe they're WEIRD if they HATE GOODBYES?

It's been awhile since I did a hate-filled screed about pop culture, but I canNOT control myself when I hear this song! I want to abandon all hope when I imagine the pop culture rising up to meet the twee demands of this generation!

And then I remember all the high school nights I spent listening to preemo like "Everything I Said" by the Cranberries and "You Look So Fine" by Garbage, and I figure if high schoolers corn out by getting cute with fireflies, it's got to be better than THAT!

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Reflux Redux

So it's like this: about two weeks ago, after returning from the Wedding of My Best Friend, I drove my ass to the emergency room because I had the second episode in three months where I felt like I was choking, except I could breathe and, oh yeah, this time, I HADN'T BEEN EATING ANYTHING.

It's a terrifying feeling, y'all, to have your esophagus spaz out on you. Which is, in the end, what it was. An esophageal spasm.

The ER dr referred me back to my regular dr, who referred me into a GI specialist for AN EGD. You know what an EGD is? Sticking a camera on the end of a long tube down your throat and checking out the goods.

I went in on Monday for my EGD, which was insane since I have never in my life had "surgery." Ok, I had wisdom teeth removed, but I wasn't even knocked out for it--I had the laughing gas in a tube in my nose, but since I was panic-breathing through my mouth, I didn't really get any of it and I can vividly and distinctly remember the feeling of having my teeth lifted out of my jaw. Horrifying.

I was weirding out at the thought of being knocked out. Vee came with me to be my chauffeur post-EGD since I would be "going under." The nurse informed me I was going to get Demerol (to which ALL I COULD THINK WAS MJ! MJ!) and then a "mild amnesiac." Why was I getting an amnesiac if I was already going to be knocked out? What was I supposed to NOT remember, getting the Demerol? Cause I DO! It was SO. WEIRD! I was laying on my side, IV stuck in my right hand, and the GI doctor informed me that he was putting the Demerol in. I remember looking at the wall, looking at the wall, and then BOOM! The next memory is a slippery-slidey one where I was back in the main room, Vee by my side, and the IV was out.

Apparently I looked at the GI doctor as he explained that he didn't see anything, but I don't remember that. The rest of the day I kept forgetting things and then Vee would exclaim, "Amnesia!" and I would get mad because I could remember SOME things.

Luckily, my EGD coincided with a visit from MY BROTHER, who is finally home from his Korean Year and the Mediterranean Adventure of Two Months, so he helped watch the Kid since Vee had to get back to work.

We waited and waited for the results of my EGD, since dude took a biopsy of some tissue matter in my throat to check for this thing called eosinophilic esophagitis (but if you're cool, you call it EE). EE basically looks like GERD and presents like GERD but is actually food-allergy triggered. I didn't care WHAT it was, as long as I got my body back to normal. But DUDE, it wasn't even EE.

One ER visit, one dr referral visit, and one EGD later, and guess what, y'all?

It was "acid reflux."

Yeah, just good old DUMB OLD I ALREADY KNEW THAT acid reflux.

So I'm Prevaciding for three months to see if I can get it under control, and we'll go from there.

I feel like I am constantly complaining of obscure and requiring-multiple-tests pain, and then it winds up looking like I am an insane hypochondriac when they find, essentially, nothing. I'M NOT MAKING THIS SHIZ UP, but it looks like I am a refluxer, and a carry-my-stress-in-my-chest-cavity sufferer, and, honestly, I'm grateful it's just that.

Friday, October 16, 2009

a change of plans

It's been bazonkaronk all morning at my house. The Kid was up at 7:20am and just went down for her nap at 12:30. She's been getting up at the luxurious hour of 9:30 for the last four days, so NEEDLESS TO SAY, I was pissed.

Is it even worth mentioning that I really HAD promised myself last night that I was going to get up earlier than her, like at 7:30 or something, and DO something with my morning, like watch the morning light creep in while slowly sipping on some green tea?

Does anybody really believe anyone any more when they claim they were GOING to do something and then, WHOOPS! They were conveniently unable to do so any more!

I'm so much more sympathetic these days with changes of plans and all since, IF NOTHING ELSE, having a toddler means your daily plans change, uh, every day. I am also getting mwomy because all the corny aphorisms of "being a mom" are there FOR A REASON. BECAUSE THEY HAPPEN.

"Get ready for no more free time"

"You will not realize how much love you have to give until you have a child"
(awww)

When I was thrift-shopping earlier this week, I found an embroidered wall hanging with the phrase that you've probably heard before; I know I HAD, since my mom had an identical one hanging up in our house as long as I can remember:

I hope when my children look back on today
They remember a mother who had time to play
There will be years for cleaning and cooking
But children grow up when we're not looking

I mean, I'd probably edit mine to say, "There will be years for web-surfing and novel reading," since those are the two things I always find myself guiltiest of letting the Kid do "free play" so I can otherwise occupy myself, but IT'S TRUE! THE APHORISMS ARE TRUE!

She interrupted me all morning by shrieking "Rees! Rees!" and shoving the SAME Elmo book at me until I pulled her up on my lap and, yes, read it to her again, but I found that I kept burrowing my nose into her hair and kissing her head between pages because goshdarnit, I love that Kid!

video

Library time when you get up from that nap, Kiddo!

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Top 100

It's only unbelievable to me, especially since I was on a every-day, then every-other-day, then every-OTHER-other-day writing routine for the first couple of months, which should have gotten me here by month 3, but I'm finally on POST 100 for evadingmwom.

100 blog posts! 100 different (or not so different) things to say over the last nine and a half months. Geez, in that time I could have gotten pregnant and had a baby, right? (Good Lord, is it only moms who instantaneously think in terms of conception-and-childbirth when you see the number "nine months?")

It's amazing that I'm on blog 100 because I can't believe I'm ONLY on blog 100. Guys, I'm SORRY, truly, because I seriously have a moment every day (no, really, EVERY DAY) where I think "Wow, I've got to blog about that." And then I'm doing laundry, or I'm collapsing in front of "Real Housewives of Atlanta," or I'm running to Thrift America to scout for PGV, or I'm returning my mom's phone call, or I'm squeezing in my work during the Kid's nap, and the day passes me by and I've skipped again.

Things I wanted to blog about but don't have the time:
  • My Best Friend's Wedding and how amazing it was to see her as a bride
  • Why Vegas has won the position of 4th Greatest Disappointment (I think the problem here is that I keep EXPECTING THINGS TO BE LARGER THAN LIFE)
  • Adventures in the emergency room (welcome to life as an acid-refluxer)
  • Halloween spiders: myth or FACT ON MY FRONT STOOP
  • The recurring desire to visit Michigan that happens every fall
Post 100 is my post-mark to try harder, and write less, more often. Thanks for holding on for 100 posts, and I'll try to get us another 100 mwomventures in six months this time!

Sunday, October 4, 2009

On TRYING NEW THINGS

My Best Friend's Wedding (HEYO) is rapidly approaching, and as I was starting to pack my shiz for VEGAS, Y'ALL, I decided I should probably try on my Honorable Woman dress and stuff.

I know it's October, so it's spooky time and all, but NO ONE WOULD APPRECIATE my ghostly legs. My legs were so pale, you could see the spider veins (HEYO! TWO HALLOWEEN REFERENCES IN TWO SENTENCES!). Ok, ok, even when I'm "tan," you can still see my spider veins. It's been this way since I was seventeen, guys, I'm not THAT old, so give me and my elderly legs a break.

Anyway, sporting the Snow White look with my dark purple Honorable Woman dress was clearly not the way to go, so I decided to do something drastic. This was no time for me to fuss around with streaky-ass orangey self-tanners, so I , um, called up a salon and scheduled AN AIRBRUSH TANNING APPOINTMENT!

My mind was ALIVE! What sort of mystical wonders awaited me in the basement "spa" area once I entered? Would my "technician" (and yes, she was classified as an "airbrush technician" on the business card she handed me) approach with some tubey-looking thing with a spray can of terrifyingly dark potion attached at the back and hose my legs down like I was at a car wash?

Well, actually, yes.

But it was all good! Because, as Vee said, amazed, when I returned home, "I looked healthy for a change."

Guys, I always take issue with a tan making you look "healthy," because DUDES, WHAT IS HEALTHY ABOUT A LAYER OF YOUR SKIN GETTING RADIATION EXPOSURE? What is healthy about DAMAGED SKIN?

But I was so joyous that I no longer had pale skin that I didn't care!

Buoyed by the success of my faux tan, I struck out for bolder territory: the local consignment sale. This joint hosts consignment sales several times a year, and since Saturday was HALF-PRICE DAY, I was like "YES!" since Kiddo is finally in her growth spurt and sizing out of her footie jammies. The Kid doesn't sleep under her covers (she sleeps like an ostrich with its head in the sand. Except there is no sand. So she kind of looks like a pillbug) and fall is HERE, so I needed to get her some roasty toasty jams.

The sale opened at 11:00am, so I figured I was in GOOD SHAPE arriving at 11:40. You know, early enough to beat those sleepy suckers who were lazing around until post-lunch on Saturday before entering the rest of the world, but late enough to miss the insaniacs who camp out, CONVINCED that there must be a cadre of clothes-with-tags-still-on-them (which THERE NEVER ARE, GUYS. THERE NEVER ARE.).

11:40. There's a line stretching around the building, and I think, "Hmmm, these must be the moms waiting to pick up their consigned clothes that they don't want to go half-price (because you do have this option)."

No. IT'S A LINE TO GET IN.

I was so astonished by the situation that I had no recourse but to get in line. I mean, GEEZ, everyone else was waiting. What sort of experience were they about to have without me?

So I wait. And wait. And we're shuffling forward every three minutes or so, enviously watching the women streaming out with rocking horses tucked under their arms and six-year-olds carrying the rest of Mommy's CHERRY scores, but we're not really getting anywhere. We watched moms FURTHER UP IN THE LINE peel off like fallen soldiers as we rounded the corner of the building and saw that the line extended for AT LEAST FIFTY MORE PEOPLE.

As it started raining, I felt really grateful that I didn't have the Kid with me. There was a mom in front of me with a little boy right about Kiddo's age, and a grandma behind me who clearly didn't think we'd be waiting as long as we were, based on her lack of A COAT. I asked Grandma what time it was, and when she revealed that WE HAD BEEN STANDING IN LINE FOR FORTY-FIVE MINUTES, I announced, "NO WAY am I waiting for AT LEAST another 45 minutes to buy USED CLOTHING for half-off! I mean, think about THE LINES TO CHECK OUT! I'M NOT WAITING THAT LONG TO PAY $3 FOR A USED SLEEPER!" and marched off to my car.

MAN, DID I TELL THEM OR WHAT?!

LESSON TAUGHT, Y'ALL! TEACHER IS IN THE HOUSE! Come on, similarly fed-up moms, fall out behind me, and let's march back to our cars, VALIANT in our UNWILLINGNESS TO WAIT IN LINE for the OPPORTUNITY to pay for USED MERCHANDISE! EVADE MWOM, LADIES!

I think the grandma was just grateful for my space in the line.