In which I bake something gluten free.

I know I owe you a "vacation post," but that might make you vomit a little in your mouth, so instead I am going to give you something that decidedly will not make you vomit (unless you don't like chocolate or peanut butter in which case stop reading now to avoid soiling your screen).

After we got home from vacation I was struck with some sort of strange illness that made me want to cook and bake. 

Not only did I cook and bake, I made something that is gluten free (What the hell is gluten anyway?  I don't freakin' know.), and wheat free. 

I know. 

Is that even possible?  How does it cook in the oven if it doesn't have wheat?  I know.  These are all questions I asked myself, too. 

Read and learn, grasshoppa.  Read and learn.

So, you know I have a sweet tooth the size of Georgia, right?  I mean it's huge.  I can eat so much chocolate it's insane.  And, usually I can't stop.  So, when I started the journey toward more healthy eating for my family a few years ago I did not start with sweets.  I did stop buying sweets and I started only making them.  But, all the sweets I make are still pretty bad-for-you.

Until I found this recipe for peanut butter chocolate bites that sounded fairly healthy and weird.  Now, I am not really a fan of Reese's cups, but I am a fan of sweetness.  Again, where other people say, "Oh, this is too sweet for me."  My body sees that as a challenge.  I have never tasted something that was too sweet for me.  So, when I read this recipe I thought, "Hmm.  That sounds kinda good, very sweet, and abnormal.  I think I'll make it."  You'll see the weird abnormal part in a bit.

Here's the recipe. 
Grain-Free Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Bites (I called it Reese's Bites which is a whole lot more palatable in my opinion.)
1 1/4 cup canned chickpeas rinsed and patted dry
2 t vanilla extract
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons natural peanut butter
1/4 cup of honey
1 t baking powder
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup dark chocolate chips

In a food processor, combine chickpeas, vanilla, peanut butter, honey, baking powder and salt.  Mix until smooth.  Stir in chocolate chips.  Wet hands and form balls about 1 1/2 inch in size (small because they are sweet).  Place on a parchment lined cookie sheet and bake at 350 for about 10 minutes.

Nutrition info (which I actually have started reading): 140 calories (49.4 from fat), 8 g fat, 0 mg cholesterol, 150 mg sodium, 14 g carbs, 2 g dietary fiber, 4 g protein.

Okay, did you see the weird part?  Yeah, I don't think I've ever eaten chickpeas.

But, these are yummy, y'all. 

My kids loved them.  Especially Girl 1 - who has a sweet tooth as big as mine.  And, these have made homework for two days so much more bearable.

So, my point?  I guess we don't need gluten or wheat, but I'm not sure. 

I have made a few more voyages into uncharted food terrains these past few weeks, which I will post about soon.  Until then, I hope you are enjoying the beginning of school year 2012.  The past two days in our lives promises that it will be interesting if nothing else.  If you have a healthy sweet recipe for me - link it!  My waistline thanks you!

While I Was Out

I've been in the Bahamas for the past week.  Just kidding.  We went on a family vacation up to North Texas.  It was awesome and I will have a post for you soon on the Intricacies of Traveling With Children (as soon as I can see the laptop over the loads of dirty laundry).  What is even more awesome is that my good friend, justahausweyef, has finally decided to write a guest post for me.  You can find her at that link, or if you want to check out her 18 genius Pinterest boards, check her out here:  http://pinterest.com/jamiewaters77.  Enjoy the read and I'll be back for good soon!

While you were out: Some reflections on my most epic yet un-eventful summer ever. 

by:  justahausweyef

 As I know you are fond of lists (and they are so much easier for me to create) I have come up with the following list of some discoveries, observations and somewhat useful information compiled from my lazy summer stay-cation. (these are not in any kind of rated or numerical order, only just as they come to my mind, which we know is wrought with alzheimer’s, A.D.D. and trivia.)

1.    I am terrifically calmed by buffing, shining and polishing my finger and toe nails.

2.    I have been really good about letting my kid experience most normal summer activities without worrying about possible injuries, ie: sunburn, bug bites, broken limbs and drowning) despite the fact that we are temporarily in the “un-insured” population.

3.    Cancer sucks. Yes, this is not original, but I have had far too many loved ones, close friends, and esteemed celebrities who are far too young, old with lust for life or just middle aged with much to share, who have been stricken or taken.

4.    8 year-olds going on 9 are full of piss and vinegar, and I would almost rather go through potty training instead.

5.    My husband and I don’t know what to do or have no interest in doing what we should  or could be doing, when our kid is safely being cared for and out of the house. Instead, we watch “grown-up TV” or go out with absolutely no agenda and bicker for entertainment.

6.    Seeing the new Battle Star Galactica on Netflix was like watching an epically long futuristic train-wreck with Edward James Olmos and lot’s of famous Canadians, and I loved it and loved making my husband watch it. (see number 5)

7.    Urban s’mores: microwave marshmallows on half a graham cracker for 10 seconds, while slathering Nutella on the other half, when it beeps, take ‘em out, slap ‘em together and it’s like camping without bugs.

8.    I am not sure which of these most compels me to shower immediately afterward: swimming in a public pool (human fluids) or the Guadalupe River (human and wildlife fluids).

9.    Really and truly, I am the only one of my friends who ALWAYS has band-aids, napkins and hand sanitizer at all times. (See number 9)

10.  Anderson Cooper is gay.

11.  Tragically, I was swept up in the K-Stew & R-Patz adultery scandal. (Google it, I don’t have time to explain, or rather, I’m too lazy to type it)

12.  I read some fine literature this summer. Oh, and some smutty trilogy, you may have heard of: 50 shades of mommy porn. (Google it)

13.  As of today, I have pinned 628 useful or hilarious bits of dribble on my 18 Pinterest boards. It probably would have been more but my husband has been home all summer, so I have had to pretend to look busy.

14.   I am good at shopping for everything and for anyone, but I have no talent for earning money while doing it.

15.  Texas is very hot. I have not found a solution for comfortably wearing shorts or skirts with my very sweaty thighs.  It is like my epic quest. (perhaps I should just join the YMCA)

16.   I would never make a good politician. But I make an awesome confidant. People are always telling me stuff, especially complete strangers in the frozen food aisle at the grocery store.

17.   I am almost as lost without DVR and Netflix as my kid is. I fear for my future  eldercare.

18.   Good friends are hard to come by, but crazy friends are easy to find. I will take  good crazy friends over crazy family any day.

19.   Never sit near a group of 10 or more moms on a Girls-Night-Out in a restaurant; it will ruin your meal, especially if you are a single 20-something and trying to “hook-up.”

20.   The more I worry about what to do with my free time, vacation, or quality family time, the more I don’t enjoy it. If I can go with the moment and let life happen, I find that I enjoy my wine and not need it so much.

 

Oh, and I neva' eva' want you to say "crack" to your teacher, okay?

So, summer's almost over.  I abhor goodbyes, so I will happily stay here in denial until the last possible breath of summer is officially over.

I thought I'd give you a short list of a few things I've overheard this summer that I hope never, ever make an appearance in public school year 2012-2013.


1.  Girl 2 and Girl 3 (age 3) were recently discussing beverages they liked and the conversation was going something like this:

Girl 2:  Oh, and I like apple juice.

Girl 3:  Me, too!  I love apple juice.  And I like orange juice, too.

Girl 2:  Oh, yeah.  Me, too.  And milk!

Girl 3:  Yes!  Me, too!

Girl 2:  Oh, and water!  It's so good for you! 

Girl 3.  Yes.  And I like wine, too!

Me:  (in my head):  WTF???  Did she just say wine???

Girl 2 (chuckling fiercely):  Wine???  You haven't had wine!  When have you had wine?  Besides, that's illegal.  Right, mom???

(Praise God someone knows the law.)

Girl 3:  YES!  GRANDPA GAVE ME WINE! 

Me:  (Oh, holy Jesus Mother of God.  WHAT?):  Baby, when did grandpa give you wine?  And, yes, that's illegal.

Girl 3:  Remember?  On Corina's First Holy Communion?

Girl 2:  OH!!!  You are confused.  That wasn't wine.  That was the blood of Jesus.  And, besides you didn't have it.  I DID.

Me (Oh, yeesh.  That clarifies everything.  This just keeps getting better and better.):  Baby, is that what you are thinking of?

Girl 3:  No.  I KNOW THAT.  I am talking about the wine grandpa brought for me!

Girl 2:  OH!  I KNOW WHAT SHE IS TALKING ABOUT NOW.  Remember grandpa brought us that fancy grape juice in that fancy bottle?

Me:  OH!!!  THAT!  (Thank you, Jesus.)  Baby, THAT is called Sparkling Grape Juice!

Girl 3:  Oh.  Well, all this time I thought it was wine.

Perfect.

2.  Girl 3 (Frequently referred to as "Baby") has taken to saying, "MOM blank-blank just called me the F-word!!!!"

Me:  Baby, what F word?

Girl 3:  Are you going to get mad if I say it?

Me:  No.

Girl 3:  Dummy.

Me:  Baby, that's not the F-word.  And you are not a dummy.  Dummy is not a very kind word, but it's not the F-word.

Girl 3:  Oh.

Next day (or hour).

Girl 3:  MOM, blank-blank JUST CALLED ME THE F-WORD!!!!!

Perfect.

3.  Further evidence that Girl 1 might be following directly in my footsteps.  A few days ago in the Yukon Cornelius Girl 1 suddenly asked:

Who is our president?

Me:  Um.  Obama.

Girl 1:  No, I mean who is running for president?

Me:  Do you mean in November in the elections?

Girl 1:  Yes.

Me:  President Obama is running for a second term against Republican Mitt Romney.

Girl 1:  Hmm.  That's weird.

Me:  What's weird about it?

Girl 1:  Does that guy Mitt Romney write cartoons for the newspaper?  Or is he the name of a cartoon or have something to do with cartoons???

Me (truly stumped by this one):  Hmm.  I'm not sure, but I don't think so.

Girl 1 left it at that and then later showed me this:

And said:

Oh, here it is, mom.  Mallard Fillmore?  Mitt Romney?  See why I was confused?

Yes, baby.  I do.  Perfectly.

4.  Girl 3 has become quite fond of saying (when someone has upset her):

I am neva' eva' (because she speaks like a Kennedy - we don't know why), neva' eva', neva' eva', neva' eva' going to talk to you again.

And then sometimes less than three minutes later she'll say to that person she just "neva' eva'ed":

Do you want to play?

This is fantastically cute, but it just attests to the bipolarness of my family.

5.  And the last one I will leave you with.

The word "crack" has made an ugly appearance (Ha!  See how I did that?) in our family.  Now, typically you might hear "crack" used to describe a separation between two areas.  And, this is how the fits of giggles usually start out.

The other day Girl 1 screamed to brother (who was playing with this grabber-thingie he has that I think he bought from an infomercial), "Brother, come quick!  I need that grabber-thingie.  I was trying to put my bathing suit in the washing machine and it fell into the crack!"

Wild laughter from them both.

Then brother rushed into the laundry room and apparently examined the situation.  Upon which he said, "Wow.  I don't know if I can help you because that is a huge crack."

More wild laughter.


Whose kids are these?

All I can really say is, "Teachers of my children:  Prepare thyselves.  Summer *might* almost be over."

With friends like these, who needs cable?

Sometimes I wish I was someone else.  And I'm not talking about when I wish I was Johnny Depp's lover or Angelina Jolie (wait...is that the same person?), or Martha Stewart.  (Okay.  You got me.  I never wish I was her.)  I'm talking about when I wish I was one of my closest friends.

No, this is not going to be a post about how I want to live in their houses (half of them live in the exact same house I do, except with better furniture), or how I am in love with their husbands (we are a quirky neighborhood, not Desperate Housewives), or how I wish I had their well-behaved children.  (Ha!  They don't have well behaved children either!)  No, I just wish the ridiculously funny $hit that happened to them happened to me every once in a while so that I would have some good blog fodder.

What I am about to tell you is a true story, but if you are like me there is no way you are going to believe it.  And, if I didn't have Boy Child and a smart phone - I might also have more than a shadow of a doubt.

Card carrying PETA members this is not the post for you.  Do not say you were not warned. 

True Story That I Wish Had Happened to Me (but just *kinda* because it freaks me out a whole lot, so if it had happened to me I am not sure I would have even lived to tell about it).

Now, if you were here when I wrote about carrying a machete to the crapper because of irrational fears, you know that some National Enquirer stuff has happened right here in my neighborhood to people I know.  You also know that I am not a fan of and possibly deathly afraid of small, furry rodent type and actual rodent animals.  This includes all kinds of squirrels, rats, mice, opossums, raccoons and basically any small animal that moves on the ground and is not like a cat - and some cats I am deathly afraid of.

Many of my friends live in the same neighborhood I do and frequently we pass each other driving - either in and out of our neighborhood - or on the main street out of our neighborhood that leads to the main street that leads to the highway that gets us the hell out of dodge.  You get the picture.

So, when we pass each other it's common for us to wave, honk, or text (from the safety of our final destination - and I don't mean hell - because texting and driving is illegal...and dangerous).

I wasn't at all surprised last Friday when I passed my good friend, Sin (not her real name, just what we call her...and I'm pretty sure it's not spelled like that), on the road.  I wasn't even surprised when I saw that she had texted me shortly after.  What did surprise and disturb the hell out of me when I bothered to read her text and view the accompanying photo a few hours later, is what the text said:

TEXT (Sorry, I wish I had screenshot so that you could experience this fully, but I'm too lazy to download it.): 

Are you on Butch Cassidy Road behind a family with a dead rat on their window?

ACCOMPANYING PHOTO (which almost made me vomit).



See the dead rat right at the lower part of the back window???  WTF?  Right?

Now, I think when I saw the photo I must have let out some kind of squeal or something because right away Boy Child (who has an uncanny ability to hear any audible sound I might make when I am reading a text, but cannot hear when I am screaming for him to get off his iTouch) said, "What momma?  Who is it from?  What's wrong?"

And, because I was in a state of shock after seeing some random rat on some freak's window I said, "This is some freaky stuff right here on my phone, son.  Ms. Sin just sent me a text and it said, (and then I read it to him) and here is a photo of a DEAD RAT on someone's window???  WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE THIS MEANS???"

Right away Boy Child (who is like a police officer/detective) said, "That's really weird mom because when we passed them on Butch Cassidy Road I saw something weird and long on the back window of their car and I thought it kinda looked like a rat, but then I thought why would someone have a dead rat on their window, so I thought it must have been something else."

And literally (as crazy as this sounds) with that ridiculous run-on sentence/explanation I calmly put down my cell phone, went about my business of putting the kids to bed or whatever it was I was doing, and didn't give the Dead Rat On A Car Window another thought until yesterday morning.  (I guess you could say I didn't give another rat's a$$.  See what I did there?)

That's when Sin called me.

We had a great ten minute conversation on the phone and suddenly she said, "Oh, hey did you ever get my text with the dead rat photo?"

I immediately traveled back in time (not literally, just in my head) to the text and said, "Uh, yeah.  That was super disgusting.  What the hell was it?"

She said, "Did you not see it in real life when you passed us on the road???  On our car???"

Me:  Uh, NO.

Sin (cackling):  Well, it was on our car.

She proceeded to tell me the story of how her beloved cat (not beloved by me because if I want a dead rat, I will kill my own) brought her yet another bird and when she wasn't that amused killed her a king size rat and decided to put it on her car (because that's where we put things when we want to show our love).

After her whole family examined (not too closely) the dead rat on their car, my friend, Sin, got a stick with which to push it off the car and dispose of it. 

Now, mind you, it's hot down here in Texas.  Last Friday I think it was somewhere around 120 degrees in the shade.  And she was damned when she found that the dead rat was stuck to the window.  Literally stuck. 

"Like chewing gum.  There was no easy way to get that sucker off without touching it with my bare hands and I'll be damned it I was gonna do that."

So, the family called a quick family meeting and made a *reasonable* decision to drive that thing off.

Now, this is not a trend that I am aware of, but due to the prevalence of cats down here in South Texas and the heat, which does not seem to be letting up one bit, it might just turn into a trend for people who find prizes from their cats in the form of dead rats stuck to their cars like bubble gum.

It took quite a lot of driving because apparently he was a stubborn dead thing.

And eventually it took a little more than driving (I will spare you the details on that one).

When Sin finished telling me this story, I was torn between laughing hysterically and being deeply disturbed.  All I could muster was, "Cheesus.  That is one hell of a story."

I.  cannot.  even.  imagine.  Nor do I want to.  If any cat of mine put a dead rat on my car, he'd need those nine lives of his.  And, seriously, do I need TLC with this kind of entertainment right at my fingertips?

So, I guess what I am saying is that #2 on the list (right below "Carry a machete to the crapper.") is:  Do not allow defenses to go down and children to con me into getting another cat no matter how much I might want the story.


The end.

No one gave me personalized toilet paper. I'm kinda disappointed.

So, last Saturday hubby and I completed 22 years of marriage.  Yeah, I know.

As hubby would say, "It feels like five minutes....................underwater."

Ha-ha, hubby.

They've been mostly good.

But, that's not the point of this post.  The point of this post is anniversary gifts.  Remember them?  Maybe you are the kind of woman that gets tons of great gifts all the time for everything from your anniversary to Flag Day.  Or, maybe you are more like me and gifts are rare in your home and usually you buy them for yourself.

At any rate I just wanted to share this website with you and let you know that I'm kind of disappointed no one looked at this website before my anniversary so that they could have surprised me with personalized toilet paper.  Because personalized toilet paper is special and says, "You are so awesome I want to wipe my a$$ with you."  (Literally.)

After perusing this website, it's clear to me that after about one year of marriage the gift ideas *might* get a little thin.  Here's just a sampling of what they offer and why I think they are a teensy bit nuts.

1.  Hot Air Balloon Ride Experience the tranquility and romance of a hot air balloon ride over the beautiful countryside.

Embrace the serenity as you float effortlessly thousands of feet above the ground then enjoy a traditional champagne toast upon landing.

There is nothing like soaring through the sky in a hot air balloon. It makes an incredible gift!

Not only does that make me vomit a little in my mouth,  I sincerely hope that whoever purchases this knows his/her spouse well because I am not sure of the statistics, but I am fairly sure I have seen more than a couple of Nightline episodes about spouses being pushed out of hot air balloons. 

2.  First Anniversary Personalized Magazine Cover  Seriously?  Notice that this is First Anniversary because they are the only people on the planet that could possibly pull this off without seeming completely ridiculous and self-centered (and we all still would probably want to vomit in our mouths  - I wanted to just looking at that couple on the advertisement and I don't even know them).  BTW - these are the same people that video tape the birth of their firstborns and mail it out to friends and family.

3.  Daily Dose of My Love Jar of Messages in Mini-Envelopes.  Reminders of your love! Jar of 31 personalized messages in mini decorative envelopes for the recipient to open each day or anytime they need a smile. Pre-printed themed messages also available for an additional charge. 

"Daily Dose of My Love."  It's a good thing I know that this website is fairly "family" friendly because I don't think my hubby is the only one who would have a field day with that verbiage.

Secondly, how lovely that they also offer blank messages for those who would like to do them themselves. 

After 22 years of marriage (most of them good), mine might read:

Babe, remember to change the light bulb outside that's been out for about a month.  Happy Anniversary!  xoxo

Babe, could you put the batteries back in the smoke alarms in case we have a house fire (from my cooking)?  BTW - Happy Anniversary!  Love you!

Babe, the house cleaner is coming today, so could you kindly pick up your "unmentionables" from the bathroom floor.  Forever yours (on our Anniversary)!  xoxo

His might read:

Sweets, do you think you could remember to buy the razors I've had on the list for about a month now when you go to Costco?  Thanks!  Love you!  When's our anniversary again?

Baby, where is my wallet?  xoxo!  Is today our anniversary???

Babe, my credit card hasn't been working.  Did you forget to pay the bill?  (Again?)  (We might need some good credit for our anniversary dinner!)  Love you lots!!!


4.  I Can't Promise Sign.  I just find this one confusing.  If you are celebrating an anniversary I am just going to assume you were married at some point and that you took some vows that required you to promise some stuff.  I *think* (it's been TWENTY-TWO years and my memory is bad) those promises were something about loving you for the rest of your life (and my own?) regardless of weight, money, health, stretch marks, unruly kids underfoot, etc.  So, here's what this sign says (see if you can figure it out):

I can't promise that I'll be here for the rest of your life...but I can promise that I'll love you for the rest of mine.

Now please know that hubby and I having been together for 22 years have weathered some friends' and family members' separations and divorces.  So, here's what that anniversary sign says to me, "I might leave your a$$, but know that I will be pining for you (and possibly stalking you) with my new man my whole life.  Happy Anniversary!" 

Nothing says "love" like that!  I guess!

5.  Kinky Sex Scratchers.  Okay.  Need I say more?  Do I need to say "scratch" and "sex" in the same gift title?  No.  I don't.

6.  Personalized Judith Masterpiece.  If you don't click any other link - click this one.  And be frightened.  I really don't want hubby to open his anniversary present and be all, "AGHHHHH.  JESUS!  A little warning would've been nice, babe."



I had almost had it with this website when I stumbled upon this.  Now, hubby doesn't drink.  But, I do.  And if you know me well, you know that beer is my drink of choice.  Black Leather Beer Holster?  Why not?  So, my friends:  Happy Twenty-Second Anniversary To Me!  Thank you!

Stop being happy and start being skinny!

Occasionally something comes out of my mouth and I gasp because it is my mother.  And she is dead.  Now, you know I loved/love my mother dearly but there are some wacky things that used to come out of her mouth that quite frankly I have never understood.  Here are just a few:

1.  A stitch in time saves nine.  But, I can't sew.
2.  Idle hands are the devil's work.  But, what if your hands are busy stealing?
3.  Cleanliness is next to Godliness.  I'm sorry.  I just don't understand that.
4.  The early bird gets the worm.  But, we all know if you are a worm, sleep late.  (I *might* be a worm.)
5.  Curiosity killed the cat.  That's just wrong.  And besides, cats have nine lives and idle hands.
6.  (And this gem when she would find out that someone was mad at someone else.)  Well, now so-and-so has another job.  Getting unmad.  I actually semi-understand and like that one, but have updated it to a gem that one of my amazing blog readers taught me:  You can get unmad in the same pants you got mad in.
7.  Measure twice.  Cut once.  What do you do if you suck at measuring and cutting?
8.  I am the mother.  That's why.  Now, this is a good one that although I do not understand I use on a regular basis.
9.  Frowning takes more muscles than smiling.  Excuse me.  What the WHAT?


A few days ago, Girl 1 threw a mother-loving fit and then was pouting for a good four hours. 

Suddenly out of NO where (except possibly the after world) this came out of my mouth, "Y'know, frowning takes more muscles than smiling."

She silently looked at me with a look that said, "What in the &*%$ are you talking about?" 

And she actually did that while she was frowning.

And then I looked at myself (without an actual mirror, I mean I just examined my soul) and thought:

What in the &*%$ am I talking about???

FROWNING TAKES MORE MUSCLES THAN SMILING??? 

And I've known this fact since I was a CHILD???

Seriously?

I have been on a mission this summer to "count calories." (And I mean this in the loosest sense possible, like for example: A fruit smoothie probably has less calories than bacon, hash browns and scrambled eggs.)  Along with the counting calorie mission, I've been diligently trying to use all my muscles on a regular basis because I was doing research on calorie burning and some professional on the internets said that using the same muscles over and over will not burn as many calories as changing up your routine.  So, I have been a working out/calorie counting slave.

And here I had haphazardly stumbled on a diet gold mine. 

Why am I trying to use different muscles everyday working out?  I just need to be less happy and frown more.  And I could be using more muscles. 

I think my ma *might* be trying to communicate with me from the other side to let me know:  Exercise is for the birds!  Not smiling is the key!

Amen!

I am ready to start my new program!  Sign me up!

Polly Pocket in the house tonight and other reasons why we know it's still summer.

I've been so unfaithful to my blog and to my blogroll and I miss you all dearly.  No grand excuse.  I didn't win the lottery.   I haven't been offered an amazing book deal and been busy with publishers. I didn't discover my husband was secretly a woman.  I wasn't requesting odd sex scenes for the actress who is going to play me in the Lifetime movie.  I wasn't involved in a wardrobe malfunction at the Olympics.  No, I really have no good excuses.  I wasn't even watching the Olympics.  Oh, the horror.  How can I be an American?  I know.

Since I am still married (to a man), I still have four unruly kids, I am still working more jobs than a Jamaican, and it is still summer, this post is really anti-climatic.  (And, if you want to just detour to the end where I apologize to you and promise to be more faithful - I won't hate you in the morning.) 

Basically this post is just going to be a random list of what has been happening.

1.  I went to the Big D.  (That's Dallas, not Detroit.)  I went to Dallas for a work retreat and I learned quite a bit.  Here are a few of the highlights (names have been changed to protect the innocent - so innocent if you are reading, you're welcome).  Sublist!

• I had my photo taken by A Professional.  Now, let's just clear up something that's been kind of hanging on my blog for a while.  I am no Looker.  I have what is called "a face for radio."  AND, I appear horrible in photos because I am also what's called Non photogenic.  Or, in some circles Anti photogenic.  Every photo that's ever been taken of me looks just like me.  And, therein lies the problem.  I have been waiting my whole life for someone to take my photo and transform it into someone else.  Like Angelina Jolie.  Well, this gal that took my photo has skills.  She's not God, so I still do not look like Angelina Jolie, but finally I have a photo I can look at happily. 



That's Mrs. DayintheLife.  She kinda looks like she could be a reporter or famous novelist.  No?  Okay.  No.  At least she doesn't hurt your eyes as much as when she photographs herself with the long arm?

• Women who don't get out much (or who do) when left to their own devices can get quite ca-razy.  Let's just suffice it to say that I have a new favorite drink called the Pineapple Upside-down Martini.  Drink it!  Your body will thank you.
• I fully embraced my inability to coordinate clothes.  In fact, thanks to a fabulously insightful keynote speaker we had, I have decided that I might never dress myself again.  (Except for maybe going to the grocery store and working-out.)  Life is short.  If you suck at doing something, consider the options.  I cannot put together an outfit to save my life.  So, (and in a roundabout way this is really a thank you note) Justahausweyef, my sincere thanks for assisting me in the fashion department.  You would have probably cried at all the compliments I got on my coordinated outfits.

2.  This is Girl 3's favorite song.  Although, lately she has changed the words to, "Polly Pocket in the house tonight.  Everybody gonna have a good time."  This not only calls into question the parenting judgment of one who would let a three year old listen to a band that calls itself LMFAO, but the integrity of Polly Pocket herself.

3.  Yesterday hubby and I took our motley crew to Six Flags Fiesta Texas.  In years past, we've arrived around 3:30 and stayed until closing (9:30/10:00 p.m.).  We've selected this time schedule in order to avoid parental and child melt-downs.  This year we decided Girl 3 was old enough to stay all day without serious risk of a melt-down. 

And, I think our kids tried to kill us. 

We operate sans maps so I think we covered every square inch of the park about three times.  Did I say it's about 8000 acres?  Oh, and did I mention it was like 106 degrees?  It was nuts.  And fun.  Girl 3 had only one melt-down and it caused everyone in line for the bumper cars to lose all control.

She was dragged (by me) from the line screaming and spitting (yes, I said spitting).  She was too short to ride the ride, even with an adult.  This (unfortunately for her because it kinda ruins the drama when everyone is laughing at you) caused everyone in line (and me) to laugh hysterically either out of empathy or cruelty (I'll take either).

When I asked her a few minutes later when she was calm why she was spitting at me, she very calmly and sweetly said, "Because I am old enough to drive." 

Yeah, you are.  You've been driving me crazy since you were born.

4.  Girl 1 has become quite good at little quips in response to my little quips.  (Who me?  Quip?  I know.)

She has a horrible habit of wiping her mouth on the inside of the neckline of her shirt.  Ugh.  I hate it.  I've tried every way possible to get her to stop...short of public humiliation...which I tried this past week.

Me:  You are never going to get a boyfriend by doing that.  (She's nine.  I am *around* thirty-nine.)

Her:  That's okay, mom.  I already have one.

Ouch.

Girl 1:  1
Mom:  ZERO

Detour ends:  I am going to try to be more faithful to my blog and to all of your wonderfully funny and absolutely great blogs, but know that it's still summer and summer doesn't even allow for private potty time most days.  Until next time!