Z

"Z" is for ZOOBILEE ZOO

In an early step towards my "dorkdom"
(no offense other Zoobilee fans)
I was a fan of Zoobilee Zoo.
I couldn't tell you a thing about the show now, except there were people, dressed up as animals, and singing.
Singing to me, to my very heart and soul.
They just GOT me, you know?
They understood me, and I understood them.
We could RELATE!
And it was all very moving to my young heart.
Perhaps Mayor Ben is to be thanked for swaying me towards a love for "the(atrical) Arts"
(or perhaps he should be ousted, because despite it's catchy music, I still can't sit all the way through RENT)

Anywho- there's your Z and the end of our little alphabet game ( for now, anyway)

cake


To begin, make sure that you start late into the evening, preferably after a long day of chores and errands and while still recovering from a serious knock to the noggin. If you can hear the night song of crickets, all the better.

Decide at the very last minute to add a layer, so as not to waste so much cake batter. Disregard that the only remaining pan is square.

You will want to buy professional cake supplies the day before, to convince yourself that THIS cake will turn out better than all the rest. . . it WON'T actually, but at least you'll have some motivation to help you make it through the night.

Once cakes have cooled, take new, handy dandy cake leveler and begin to saw away at the cake layers. Yes, they look crooked but that is IMPOSSIBLE since you used an actual cake leveler.

Set crooked layers to the side.

Disregard under-baked center in largest cake layer.

Claim it was meant to be "like LAVA cake" all along.

Puree spotty bananas with cream cheese and powdered sugar- double the recipe because there is so much cake, surely you will need MORE than less. Don't worry, it will be so late when you are pouring 3/4 of the bowl's contents down the disposal later on that you won't feel near as guilty as if you were wide awake.

Over Blend and Refrigerate.

1 hour later pull over blended and somewhat soupy banana mixture from fridge and begin to assemble cakes, using banana mix as glue.

Take stacked cake to closed fridge, balance heavy cake plate in bad arm and open fridge door.

Pick top two layers off of the floor and piece back together on top of the cake.

Wipe up the floor

Tell NO ONE

Place broken, crumbly cake in fridge to "firm" before frosting

Melt and pour white chocolate shapes

Botch and repeat

Botch again and settle for half of a star and candy melts, un melted (circles)

Make Dark Chocolate Ganache.

Spill a little, just for fun

Think you are clever and leave out 2 Oz chocolate to "thicken" ganache

Be dismayed to find this is not the result you get

Remind yourself to skip all notions of cleverness in the future

Later: Use Ganache anyway because you don't have time to wait for another batch

Begin to slice miniature marshmallows in half-- you will need to do a whole bag to cover this cake. Look on the bright side- twice the marshmallows for the price of one bag!

Spray marshmallows with aerosol food coloring and coat with glitter. Do this in several different bowl for each color and variant used on the cake (6-Yellow, Orange, Teal, Purple, Red, Blue)

Graduate to Jumbo marshmallows

Slice into thirds

Repeat color and glitter coating

Look at purple glittery fingers, reflect back on dream that prophesied this

Begin long, tedious process of covering cake with marshmallows

Realize you are short about 50 marshmallows

Begin slicing and coloring again

Affix star, circles and candles to cake

Place in Fridge

Realize candle makes it too big, DO NOT PLACE IN FRIDGE

Disassemble top layer

Place in Fridge

Look At Clock- 12:30, Not Bad

Look At Kitchen

Fetch Cooking Rum and A Broom . . .

daddy'sGIRL

As I was loading groceries into the car, I teasingly threatened to "run away and change my name" as each child had called to me and seemed to be competing for my full attention. With the last bag to be loaded in hand, I heard Lo say
" ... and then we can have Daddy ALL to our selves!"

Well, pardon me!
I didn't realize I was SO in her way :)

girlfriend

Fisher's got a girlfriend, and I'd tell you who she is if he knew her name . . .
We visited a church this weekend (see:revival) where the only child that didn't go into the main service with us was Fisher. When he came out of nursery he said "I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!"
When asked her name he said " I Don't Know, She Big"
(I suppose I need to teach him that later in life, calling his one and only love BIG isn't going to win him points)
He then asked " Can we go there EVERYDAY?" and said "And we not getting her flowers!"(very adamantly as if I, had suggested we bring her a bouquet), "I giving her a fountain--like your honey one momma!"
In this instant two things became clear to me-
  1. he intended to give his new love MY fountain
  2. HE was the culprit who kept sneaking the thing on when I wasn't looking.

Obviously he's quite fond of the thing...I didn't have the heart to tell him that the broken clay vessels aren't meant to be honey pots, because after all, there's no reason they couldn't have honey in them.

Like any man with a plan, he also told us that he had "accidentally" left his Bible and needed to go back and get it.

Sure.

Right.

"ACCIDENTALLY"

My Foot.

But it worked,

we will go back

At least for the book.

And

maybe

her

name.

Y

Y is for :
"It's fun to stay at the YMCA!"
One of the children's favorite places to go AND one of their favorite songs.
I recently had to referee a dispute over who got the ToothTunes toothbrush that plays "YMCA" when you brush-- they all wanted it and I had to draw the line on allowing them to share in this instance


moreSPROUTS™

my, how you've grown...


chan

lolo

fisher

BEFORE shots

justDANDY

DripDripDrop





FlashBackFriday




Since it it the 30th, here's a list of 30 things from


"back in the day"


(cause I'm temporarily out of other stuff to say)



  1. MEPSI (North Augusta, SC)



  2. Sky City Stores



  3. Slap Bracelets (could be bought at Mepsi)



  4. Jelly Shoes









  5. Little Libby



  6. Movie Booths (found in sky city stores)



  7. Tye Dye





  8. Oh!Calcutta (Regency Mall)



  9. CABOODLES (a must have)



  10. Sweet Pickles (not the food)



  11. Making Friendship Pins



  12. Flash Cubes







  13. Glow In The Dark Stars Barbie



  14. Garbage Pail Kids (outlawed in my house)









  15. Sticker Books/collections



  16. Pencils with interchangeable leads



  17. Grab Bags from Hello Kitty



  18. Steam Powered toy car



  19. Sno Cap Drive In



  20. French Hook earrings vs. Post







guestReview

HEAD ON (apply directly to the forehead) over to Brad's site to check out the guest review I did for The Pirate's House .
(I gots' chores to do-- it'll give ye something to read til I get 'em done)
a'ight?

fairyTale

"All fairy tales, whether happy or sad, have this one thing in common: they all come to an end"
~me

SeventySix

I am the FREEZER QUEEN.

I do not try to hide this "undomesticated tidbit" about myself - it is a pretty well known(and agreed upon)fact that, without pre-packaged frozen foods my small family would have long ago:

a.) died of malnutrition

(I can go days without remembering to cook)
or
b.) died of food poisoning

( accidental, of course)

So, it should come as no surprise that our freezer routinely contains "Smuckers In A Box" or as they are more commonly known Uncrustables™- frozen, crust less sandwiches.

And anyone who knows my kids must also know about the peanut butter fixation and could win fifty bucks easy if I were gullible enough to let you bet that much on which variety



(of grilled cheese or peanut butter)we regularly buy.

What MAY surprise you- and then again not, if you know my four year old- is that my house STILL smells like smoke, some six hours later.
... smoke and peanut butter.

For those uninitiated or beyond the years of packing lunches, let's bring you up to speed...
The general idea of an Uncrustable sam' ich is that, in the time it takes an average brown bag "sammy" to get soggy, the frozen puff of crust less delight will have thawed to a perfectly chilled lunch food-- they are indeed quite delightful, when done right.

However, as I am sure you can all relate, in this day and age, even convenience isn't as convenient as we'd like, and sometimes we like to help things that are considered to be fast by most standards to be even faster by our own set of too-high expectations.

And THAT is why, occasionally, princeCharming has been known to microwave one of those little Uncrustables for 15 seconds or so- the equivalent of a twenty minute thaw at room temp.

So it is understandable that, when he was told to wait for the sandwiches to thaw, Fisher thought he could help things along. He was hungry, after all... really hungry!
And he had seen it done before, after all.

It is even understandable that no one saw him grab the box from the counter top or heard him open the microwave door, since 3 of us were outside, playing in the sprinkler and the other one of is a father...who is allowed to nap-

(see Mother's Handbook for why mom's are not allowed this luxury)

You can't really blame him for what happened next, right? If the state of Georgia doesn't expect him to know his numbers until he's six, how can we hold him responsible for not knowing the difference between 15 seconds and 76 minutes?

It was the smell that brought me in-- the smell that still lingers six hours, two open doors and four open windows later. The Uncrustable never made it past the first minute... there remains a jelly stain from the explosion and the inverted letters from the melted label, forever etched into the base of the microwave.

Perhaps it is time for the Freezer Queen to do some thawing of her own and buy a jar of peanut butter

(the last one we bought had salmonella in it)

Anyone know how to rid the house of the smell of burnt PB&J?

Strike A Match, perhaps?

SUNDAY_Ray

I take great pleasure in forcing my children to relive the joys of my youth- no matter how outdated. Sometimes it takes, and sometimes not...



Amongst some of my more recent mp3 downloads have been a handful of Ray Stevens' treasures that they actually seem to LIKE

(and not just because I tell them to)

They first got acquainted with Stevens' silly style at Christmas time with his


"Santa Clause is Watching you ( he's everywhere!)





but in recent days have come to appreciate him also for The Monkees, and The Streak, amongst others.


And though they thoroughly enjoy any and all references to nudity, we have purposefully shielded their ears from


"What we gonna do when the kids are gone"


because we KNOW how much of a kick they would get out of hearing "Buck Naked" that many times in a row.




for more Stevens' flashbacks


see also:


revival

The thoughts leading up to this post began a few weeks back, when in an effort to saturate our kids with fond memories from our own childhood, princeCharming and I downloaded some "classic" (old) music for a road trip.

After hearing the Mississippi Squirrel Revival for the first time in a long time, I got to thinking about how many churches I wish I'd have thought to smuggle a squirrel into.

But I told myself " Self, do not post a cynical and squirrel waving post until you have visited this new church, or it may reflect unfairly upon their service"

And so I waited until today- today, when I wish I would have smuggled TWO squirrels into the new church we were visiting.

I could have left when they started with the Nicene creed...

( I DO BELIEVE IN...well, let's save all that for another post, shall we?)

But...BUT-- the pastor was a good teacher- sound and true, and deserving more respect than a crazed squirrel... I had heard him on SermonAudio, so, we stuck it out. Still, you just can't ignore the fact that releasing one or two squirrels down the aisles may help the regular members to appreciate this sound teaching too, by waking them from their Sunday morning nap!

((Sunday Morning Nap- page 3 in your bulletin, please snore to the beat of the Doxology)

tongue in cheek ,of course--which prevents it from being sacrilege...

I think...

conversation with a BumbleBEE

BEE: Bzzz! Bzzz!
Translation: you're too close for comfort

ME: Don't threaten me, little bee--I'll chop that shrub down entirely!

I continued to sit there, listening to the birds and the bees, smelling the flowers and gazing at our full bloom tree.

I did not go inside until the sun had set.
And the bee and me?
We made as friendly as one can expect to get with a bee.

glade

do not, under any circumstances, consume Glade Plug Ins scented oil...not even vanilla.

X

"X" is for XYL
I hate stereotypical uses and misuses of the letter x when people are trying to operate alphabetically- so I did a little research and it turns out that yours truly is an XYL on
shortwave radio/ Morse Code

You should check, you may be one too.

PirateSong

to

Big Chief

because in a land of pirates

you can still sing and dance

:)

L'Chaim

because i lived....

...and because he says I'm not allowed to die first.

(we have a bet)

purple

know the blue man group?




I dreamt I was every bit as purple as they are blue-- and dusted with cake glitter too.
I also dreamt another wreck
it spun me 'round and broke my neck
and that my brother was crying at the zoo
(booHoo?)
i went to bed pure (as i get)-- it was too late to take anything that would leave me zonked in the morning...

... call it Odd A'La Natural

Apparently, this is a good idea in real life to some folks:
Couldn't tell you the occasion here...

some engineering types-- go figure!

(HOW they did it)

prettyPOLLEN

Sprouts™

We made our own little "Sprouts" with nylon knee highs and grass seed- oh! and of course, googly eyes.
They aren't quite as bald as they once were, they aren't as "fuzzy" as we hope one day they'll be:

F.K.B.



L.A.B.


C.B.B.

metzger

LEATHERNECK- my new code name





...but you can call me Wendell

* see also : untouchable and " E.T. Neck"
(thanks,Chan!)


W

is for whining,
which I am trying not to do,
in spite of all the reasons
I feel that
I am entitled to.
Instead, I'm trying to
(...even though it is the FOURTH time I've had to change kids' sheets this week--
this week, the week that I'd just like to lie still in a darkened cave...)
Grrr!
really, I'm not complaining- I'm glad I still have them here to wet and get sick all over the sheets--even if it is rather inconvenient to clean up
:)

Margaret

For my cuz

RHYNO

just becuz...

well, he knows

It is being passed on to a new generation ,

don't that make you feel...

good?

old?

Here's To Squaredance!

( you're secret is safe with me)

V

"V" is for vanilla because it is versatile and very, very me.

Plain and Basic.

Ok alone, but good with sprinkles, too.

I love chocolate, banana, strawberry and chunky monkey, but after an hour spent on the ice cream aisle, I usually always resort to vanilla, with the little vanilla bean flecks. If for no other reason than "it's easiest" but also because "I can turn it into whatever I want it to be"

tiger

giggle giggle ha ha ha--- so last night it was a tiger dream-- there was no music, but I did wake up humming a little Buck Owens.

ENJOY!


**It may interest you (or not) to know that we had Chinese food on Monday and while waiting for our almond chicken and egg rolls to arrive, we deciphered our Chinese Year from the place mats-- princeCHARMing is a tiger.

Isn't it ironic? Dontcha think?
A little TOO ironic
And yeah, I really do think... it's time to put the meds away and just suck it up for another day ( or 3)

tra-la-la-la-la

Last night, I dreamt
( blame the heavy medication)
And woke up singing it today...
Maybe it was seeing the truck yesterday and noticing the headlight hanging out of the grill, or maybe I knew more of the lyrics than I realized and related them to myself. But as I read over the lyrics I still can't help but feel
( sub conscience but not subtle-that's just the way it works with me sometimes)

I have been singing today - to myself and still as awful as ever- but I suppose that means this road is getting shorter and a better one is just ahead.


U

"U" can be for UNDER
UNDER His wings- we were
UNDER the Influence - he was
UNDER the weather - I am
UNDER construction - that too
UNDER the stars - prettier now

patrick

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand

The road rose up to meet us indeed, and then I lay on it like an asphalt pillow. The wind was not at our backs, but knocked out of us completely as we collided with the other truck. My hair was singed and my neck burnt, but not from the warmth of the sun, and the only light came from the ambulance flashers. No rains fell, but there were plenty of tears, as the children looked on in fear. We were no doubt held safe in his palm because we are alive today

A girl named Kelly

hiding from the party crowd

meets

A drunk driver

who leaves behind

A red and kiss-shaped bruise

on her chest

with his truck

once upon

a St Patrick's Day

night

in SAVANNAH...

Luck Of The Irish

or

Isn't It Ironic?

Whose to say...

But the details go something like this:

We were involved in a wreck Saturday night. The other driver had been drinking and pulled out into oncoming traffic- he has since apologized profusely and taken complete responsibility

We may have been doing 50, 55, nothing more than the speed limit, but we sped right past that moment of relief, when you almost run into someone or something but feel the brakes catch and don't collide after all.

Like reaching the end of a rainbow, there exists something at the end of that moment too, but it is nothing like Gold. It is an awful and helpless realization that

"This is going to happen"

And it did happen, but that is all I remember clearly- that moment of impact and the gun powdery smell of the air bag exploding, until a few minutes later when the faces above me were telling me to lie still.

I did as they said even though obedience runs contrary to my normal mode of operation.They seemed like they may have a point about paralyz-ation. But I wasn't being stubborn, I really felt ok, aside from the burn on my neck. (I have a "soul patch" where my hair was singed and now feels like "sistah" hair) I was soon allowed to stand up and sign away my rights to dramatics and fan fare.(an ambulance ride) I just wanted to go home, to be the one to see my little ones to their beds.

Two days later and I am not whining but I am not running any marathons anytime soon either.

My MIL, who is experienced at ordering around ER staff, took me for some "Just In Case" peeks and prods today- so I got to show off the sexy bruise on my hip and be shamed for the hundredth time about my seat belt's absence.

(I am always in the backseat for something,I take it off so much to tend the kids, it has become easy to leave it off-that's my story and I'm sticking to it-but, if it will save me any number of lectures " I WILL ALWAYS WEAR MY SEAT BELT FROM NOW ON!" ( I have one hand on a Bible and will have a camera installed on the dash if that is not enough)

X rays showed nothing serious, for all those concerned family members- just some deep bruising and nothing that

"a few days and a vial of pills"

won't cure

I have been given permission to make friendly with some Loratab, so long as I stop the druggie dance when the pain ends. They've given me 30 days or 30 pills to get over it

I am making myself accountable in this way - though I doubt it is necessary.

Much to my children's delight, school has been called off until further notice. There will be no dosing until night time, when I have some back up and am free to fall asleep, but I'm a pretty easy sell of taking it easy for the next few days . . . it would be cool to use the line "it only hurts when I breathe" but it actually hurts at any given opportunity. I hate to be so dramatic though, so forget I mentioned it, eh?

I'm sure I have more thoughts on this whole thing, I am sure there will be more to say, but I'm still kind of dazed and mostly just needed a place holder here...

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN... well, you know, Palm of His hand and all.....

T

"T" is for Teal.
Once I hated this color pretty passionately, but like orange and brown before it, I have come to terms with it in recent years and could even be accused of slight favoritism in recent days.

A real thought I had the other day :
" I could paint RO teal and get one of those bass boat glitter finishes... "

boar

you can take the pig out of the mud


-- heck you can even take him home


and teach him some tricks,


give him a bath


and outfit him in a tiny black tux--


but you cannot, I repeat, CANNOT take the mud out of the pig.
trust me on this




naturally7

thanks to a lot of caffeine and a little insomnia, I moseyed over (as I am occasionally wont to do) to BoingBoing and discovered the previously-unknown-to-me Naturally 7 spotlighted there.

No doubt, these boys are talented. I am not sure that I will ever choose beat boxing as a personal download,(who can say?) but I have always appreciated a Capella style and this fits into it.

(back in the day, when getting a cd player for Christmas was the equivalent of getting the newest iPod, one of my first cd's to play on my new, high tech cd/cassette combo player was Accapella (woot)

What I appreciate about this video the most however, is Mr. Trench coat. He seems determined to continue on with his crossword/Sudoku as if there isn't a concert being held directly behind him. He is eventually forced to take some notice, because, how could you not? His smug reaction leaves me wondering if he really dislikes Phil Collins that much or does he just think he can do better?
As if Yin and Yang are riding together on the same Metro car, I am also taken with the woman who cannot help but enjoy herself. She knew her moment to star in a music video had come- it was now or never- and she didn't waste a beat, did she?

S

"S" is for SLIDE.
As in sliding down a grassy hill on an old refrigerator box.
I never realized that other people did this until I read "Billy Goat Hill"
( named for an actual place in SanFrancisco, where others have taken the slide)

ketchup

So, I would venture to guess that pC and I were some of the youngest folks at Savannah's Civic Center last night-- and that's ok, because somewhere on the inside, I am in my early 60's and looking very scholarly in a tweed jacket. I am not smoking a pipe, because there is virtually nowhere left on the planet to smoke, but I look as if I should be.

And since I am old on the inside-- I had a smashing good time at last night's An Evening With Garrison Keillor. pC was entertained too, though a few times he warned me he was getting drowsy, which is understandable. Keillor has that deep, lulling voice that flows like a cold mountain creek; he could be a hypnotist. In fact, I think it no coincidence that he convinced the entire audience to skip their badly needed bathroom breaks ( ok, so I am speaking personally here) to stay with him through the intermission and have a sing a long.

We sang one of Johnny Mercer's songs to honor the fact that he, Garrison Keillor, was in Savannah, because let's face it- the rest of us live here. In fact, once the lights were raised and we had applauded for the last time, we realized the entire evening had been a show by GK, for GK, and starring GK, but we were ok with that, because he never did snap his fingers or ring a bell; we left still under his spell.

This was no Prairie Home Companion. There were no mentions of ketchup or powdermilk biscuits, no crazy sound effects or Guy Noir. It was Wobegon all the same though, with original songs set to hymn music and a story that could have only happened in a town where "all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average"

Much like the stories in his books, the show was at the same time repetitive and unique. I guess you could say it was "Pretty Good"

pixieDust

According to Wikipedia, there is no reason to believe that pixie dust can be found amongst the ashes in the fireplace.

Someone should have told Fisher.

It all started with this blasted saving day light nonsense. I had already lost an hour thanks to the springing forward, not to mention it was Sunday afternoon and we had just come home from a large and sleep inducing meal at Jalapenos.

I had fallen asleep on the over sized armchair, despite
blaring at full volume on the t.v. It may have been half an hour, or just as easily been one of my infamous and involuntary, five minute power naps
(some would say narcolepsy-
To-may-to, To-mah-to, I say.)

Eventually, I startled awake and, feeling a bit lost, went to find my prince. I discovered that he too had suffered a bout of
narco-power napping and like a true Goldilocks was still sleeping in my bed. He stirred just long enough to pat the bed beside him- an invitation to hop in.

And I, being the submissive wife that I am, agreed.
"But only a minute," I said, and I set the timer on my phone to make my point...

Twenty minutes and a second, joint power nap later, I woke up and decided the kids had been left to themselves long enough. It had evolved into such a lazy day, I decided there was no sense in spoiling it now with crazy notions like laundry and dishes. I decided to spend a little one on one time with each kid, and found my way into Chan's room for a serious Katamari session. He is always asking me to play the game with him, and I am always saying "Later", so I was feeling like a boy scout, when my prince found his way back to me.

"Come to the living room" he said "You need to see this."

"Just tell me what it is, please" I replied, hoping not to have to give up my turn to roll ( I was up to 10 cm)

"No, really, you need to come in here", he was insistent.

And so I did.

The living room was covered in soot. The tan carpet (which was thankfully already scheduled to be replaced on Tuesday anyway)the red sofa, khaki walls and black cabinets too, now all streaked gray with the soft,powdery ash that has been sitting in the fireplace since we burned the last log in December.

princeCharming went into disciplinarian mode, while I, guilty at heart for power napping in the first place,(Rule # 1 in the mother's handbook"There shall be no rest for the weary,and any attempts to obtain rest will result in extra work and/or major catastrophe)decided to investigate and "chalk" the whole thing up to my own fault for leaving the room - and the children- unattended.

"What were you thinking?" I asked, not having to feign the disbelief "Why did you do this?"

With a smile, he quickly-and innocently- explained "It's fairy dust, momma"

"It is NOT fairy dust" wasn't an ample answer, because he then assured me that, indeed, it WAS fairy dust and he was only trying to fly.
"Peter Pan did it, and he flied up high, momma!"
Guess you can't fault a four year old for wanting that.

(you can however, spend the rest of your "lazy Sunday afternoon" scrubbing soot out of everything -- it says so right there in the handbook)




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