Swing Lo Mein

This weekend, inspired by ImNotNed’s family tradition, we went to the Chinese buffet for a post-Christmas break from ham and green bean casserole and the celebratory Christmas taquito.  Mr. CPQ didn’t want to drive to our usual strip mall buffet, so we opted for one that’s recently opened a little closer to to our house.

This particular buffet seemed to cater to the native crowd as evidenced by the gelatinous mound of quivering chicken feet that graced the steam tray, as well as dishes identifiable only to those who read Mandarin.  The kids were disappointed by the lack of kid friendly food, and I tried to explain to them that the Chinese didn’t invent pizza OR the nugget, which started Baby A down a long and winding road about Marco Polo visiting China and he should have taught them how. Realizing his discourse was getting him nowhere closer to a slice of pepperoni, he ended up settling on lo mein and copious amounts of dessert, because nothing say authentic Asian cuisine like boatloads of banana pudding.

There was no koi pond from which to filch quarters, so the boys settled for absconding extra chopsticks so they could poke each other, whack each other over the head and generally use them for any other purpose other than intended.  I decided since they already had the chopsticks, I’d give them the chance to practice their skills and made some lo mein of my own last night using this recipe because it called for water chestnuts and I’ve had a can of them sitting in my pantry gathering dust because I didn’t know what to do with them.

Apparently, I haven’t known what to do with them since 2006.

When they expired.

I wasn’t quite ready for Jesus comin’ for to carry me home before I spent my birthday gift card to Michael’s, so I ditched the chestnuts in favor of snow peas.

They worked just fine, and we were all happy.

And alive.

The end.

Have a nice day.

Oh, the horror

Somewhere in the deep fog I heard it.

Loud, insistent.

Strangely familiar, yet unknown, like the lady you run into at the grocery store and you feel like you know her but can’t place her name.

I hurriedly grabbed Mr. CPQ’s arm.

“WHAT IS THAT?” I cried with desperation.

He gazed at me with a mixture of pity and tenderness, leaned in close and whispered….

“It’s called an alarm clock.”

Apparently someone thought I needed practice getting up early since I haven’t done so in six weeks.

Apparently, someone doesn’t value his life.

Have a nice day.

Haul down the holly

I started gathering the Christmas decorations late last night and putting them on the hearth in anticipation of putting them back in the attic today.  As much as I enjoy the holidays, once they’re over, I’m ready to move on to the next thing.

I think everyone in this house would agree that the next thing needs to be a hair appointment.  I’m three weeks overdue for color maintenance and the roots are, as my mother-in-law says,  “past cute”.

This year, our season was longer than usual since it began the day before Thanksgiving when the boys attended their last day of school for the year.  When I first saw the school calendar for the year, I wondered what we were going to do with such a long break, but now that it’s almost over, I find myself wishing we had two more weeks.  We fit a lot into this break – We saw penguins, ate at the Varsity, got peed on by a cow, were reprimanded by hotel management, consumed a wheel of brie, turned 40, and somehow managed to survive all of that without ending up as the lead story on the 6:00 news.

Now that the holidays are over, the boys are happy that they can return to the store (I banned all trips to Target/WalMart two weeks prior to Christmas.  It saved me the agony of hearing “But this is what I REALLY want for Christmas” after I had already bought their gifts).  They did get to accompany me on what seemed to be daily trips to the warehouse club to pick up milk, cream, butter, and brie (oh, that gym return in January is going to be a killer), but they didn’t argue because they quickly figured out they could ditch me for the game aisle while we were there.

I had to laugh at JJ who sat on the floor holding the Bakugan game that had been on his list for four months.   I called out to him as I walked past on my way to checkout and as he put the game back on the shelf I saw him whisper to it, “I’ll see you Christmas morning.”

While the boys look forward to a more normal schedule, I’m looking forward to the annual Purging of the Junk that we have going on right now.  I’m getting new carpet installed next week so everything has to be off the floor.  I spent most of yesterday hauling clothes out from under beds and emptying the closets and restacking the shelves to prep for this little project.

I spent most of last night popping Advil and laying on a heating pad. I ain’t 39 anymore.

We tackled our bedroom, the boys’ room, and the two hall closets and today’s agenda calls for the office, living room, and dining room.  I’m off work this week, so it’s a good time to be doing this, but I can think of a thousand different ways I’d rather spend the last week of my vacation.  Still, it’ll be a good way to start the new year and will free up my schedule in January to do important things like getting my eyebrows waxed.

And getting in shape for being in a swimsuit in front of my husband’s co-workers in mid-February.

Eek.

What are you doing this week?

Have a nice day.

Surprise!!

Did I say something yesterday about having deep and melancholic thoughts about my birthday?

By the way, it’s tomorrow, and I know you are all ready for it to be over so you won’t be subjected to my narcissism any longer.

Those thoughts have been banished after my very fun night last night. I was in a funk last week and Kellie called and asked if I had made birthday plans yet and, of course, I had no plans because HELLO, CHRISTMAS EVE BIRTHDAY?  ANYONE WANT TO LEAVE THEIR FAMILY FESTIVITIES AND GO TO ONE MORE PARTY?  Kellie informed me that her schedule had freed up and she wanted to take me out to dinner to celebrate, and I jumped at the chance.

She showed up around 6 last night, said “hi” and “bye” to Mr. CPQ (that was the first time they had met – weird, huh?) and off we went.  Reservations weren’t until 7:30, so we stopped for a quick drink before heading over to the restaurant.  Kel didn’t waste any time totally throwing me under the bus by telling the server I was turning 40.

He didn’t even have a chance to say, “Good evening.”  She just blurted it right out.  Hmpphhhh….I’m totally going to pretend I saw admiration in his eyes instead of sympathy.

Kel said she was taking me to Winston’s for dinner and I was very excited about that because they have good Creme Brulee, and I think we can all agree that it speaks volumes that I know and can opine on every restaurant’s version of creme brulee.  It’s a sickness, I tell you, a SICKNESS that I cannot pass up creme brulee if it’s on the menu.

It’s my absolute favorite dessert and I never make it at home because I’m deathly afraid of the blow torch. Actually, let me rephrase that.  I’m not personally afraid of it.  I’m afraid of the ramifications of keeping a weapon of mass destruction in close proximity to my ten year old terrorists.

I started to get an inkling that something might be up when we arrived at the restaurant and Kel wanted to sit in the freezing cold car and tell me some random high school story that had NOTHING to do with creme brulee, and those suspicions were confirmed when I walked into the back room and there, at the table, were four of my precious friends, appropriately dressed in mourning clothes, waiting for me.

It was a party.

At Christmas.

For me.

Let’s not speak of my double chin or my flyaway hair.

And what appears to be gray in my hair is just reflecting light from the blazing candles.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Can you see the depths of my joy as I sat at the table with my people, laughing, sharing stories, eating shrimp and grits, and opening presents (yes, there was loot!)?

It was a great way to end my thirties – surrounded by friends, smiling broadly, laughing loudly.

And eating creme brulee.

Have a nice day.

P.S. Thank you, Kellie, for pulling this all together.  You are an amazingly thoughtful friend.

Thank you, Heather, Gretchen, Amy, and Sandy for ditching your families to celebrate with me and for making it such a memorable evening.  I am so honored to know and share life with you.

Open Mic Tuesday

I’ve started four posts this morning and none of them are flowing.  I’ve got random bits of randomness about Starbucks, shopping, the inordinate amount of time that it took to prepare chicken and dumplings last night, my four successive bad hair days, and some rather deep and melancholic thoughts on turning 40.

What’s on your mind today?

The floor is yours.

Have a nice day.

Little Drummer Boy

My firstborn marches to his own drumbeat.

That beat can be quasi-erratic.

He loves to wax rhapsodic over skyscrapers, American presidents, the origin of the brussel sprout, and the optimal angle of trajectory when building a trebuchet.

By the way, discourse regarding the aforementioned can occur at any time, with little regard (or relevance, for that matter) to the subject at hand.

That’s just how he rolls.

My beloved Squash Blossom and I share many personality traits.  He’s hot-tempered and impulsive.  He’d rather read than play outside.  He has a head full of factoids that will never come in handy unless he’s playing Trivial Pursuit.  And, like me, he needs quiet space to regroup and recharge.  One of the frequent comments that I get from teachers is, “He doesn’t have a lot of friends”, or, “At recess, he plays a lot by himself.”  Every time I hear that, it makes me a little sad because his desire for solitude is sometimes misunderstood.

Poor kid.  Surrounded in the womb, surrounded in the NICU, surrounded by siblings, surrounded by children in his overcrowded classroom…it’s a wonder he hasn’t wound up in a special room surrounded by padded walls.

Still, every mom wants her kids to have friends, and I’d be lying if I said my thoughts didn’t turn to him a thousand times a day wondering if he was having fun at school and if someone, anyone, appreciated him in all his quirky gloriousness (which I swear Mastercard ripped off in this commercial).

But this weekend, the following picture, taken by a friend of mine on a recent field trip, appeared on my Facebook page.

I saw a contentment in his face that I don’t think had anything to do with the $10 his mama had given him and had everything to do with the priceless friends that surrounded him.

That’s a happy little drummer boy.

And he has a happy mama.

Have a nice day.

Apparently

Apparently, I’m not the only one who loves Tim Tebow.

My blog hasn’t had that many views EVER, and, in one day, his name has now surpassed topless Europeans and He Who Must Not Be Named In This Blog Again as the top reason people land in my corner of the Internet.

I should’ve majored in sports journalism, but that would have required an interest in, oh……say…….. SPORTS.

Apparently, we’re in for a winter storm today.

Do you think it’s altering my plans for a fun day of sipping cocoa and eating lunch with Coffeegal while our children entertain each other?  Nope!  If there’s a chance of getting stuck anywhere, I want it to be at her house.  I have it on good authority that she spent all day in the kitchen yesterday, so I know we’ll be set for provisions.

Just in case, I’m taking milk, bread, and toilet paper with me.

Apparently, everyone’s a little more with it than I am.

I have been on the receiving end of so many beautiful Christmas cards this week.  Have I even purchased mine?  Have I even ordered my pictures?

That would be a “no”.

Apparently, there’s a new “it” gift to give your wife this year.

I have no words.

Have a nice day.

In which I declare my undying love for Tim Tebow

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him.  The Lord does not look at things man looks at.  Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

I Samuel 16:7

_____________________________________________________________________________

I know nothing about college football other than how to call the Hogs.  I don’t study the sports page, I barely keep up with coaching changes, ESPN is a four letter word to me, and unless the Razorbacks, OU, or UT are in a bowl game, I don’t huddle around the television in January.

I huddle around the chip bowl.

My lack of interest, however, doesn’t mean that I am uninformed about which teams to love or hate, and for years, I’ve had an intense dislike for any football team to come out of Florida.

Until Tim Tebow came along.

It has pained me greatly to root for Florida these last few years, but I’ve had to set aside my prejudice for one reason alone.  You see, Tim Tebow is a missionary kid, and I’m a missionary kid.  I don’t know him personally, but because there aren’t that many of us weird little MK’s running around, I feel an affinity towards him and a strange sense of pride for what he’s accomplished.

I really appreciate him accepting that Heisman for me.

I always thought that I most admired how he unappologetically lives his faith and demonstrates his commitment to his Creator on a very public stage, but this week I heard a story about his character in a private moment, away from the spotlight, that sealed my opinion of him.

We have friends (real friends – in our wedding party) who have a nephew who has cerebral palsy.  He’s in his early twenties and lives with a full-time caregiver.  Our friends are actively involved with him, stop by to visit, take him to events, and do a lot to make his life experience a rich one.  Recently, they took him to the Florida campus for a Gators football game.  As a special treat, since he’s such a big fan of their program, they arranged for a visit with Urban Meyer and Tim Tebow.  I thought it was really nice of them to make time for him, but that’s not where the story ends.

On game day, the wheelchair for this young man (did I mention his name is Travis?) was rolled into a special handicapped section near the tunnel where the players were going to enter the field.  This was a special day for Tim Tebow, and Travis didn’t want to miss it.  Tebow would be taking his final Gator Walk at his last home game at the University of Florida.  This was his moment to shine.

The seniors walked out.

The crowd roared.

I’m sure many chests were swelling with pride and emotion at the significance of the day.

But the one person who could have stood there, soaking in the public accolades for his accomplishments on the field?

He was oblivious to the clamoring throngs.

He was on the sidelines with a young man named Travis, laying hands of benediction on his head, and whispering in his ear, “God bless you, Travis.”

Have a nice day, and though it cost me blog readers, Go Gators.

Mistaken Identity

As I previously mentioned, when we left for our vacation, I didn’t have time to tidy up and put things away like I normally do before leaving town.  As a result, several things were left out that would normally have been stowed away.

One of the first things that Mr. CPQ did when I walked in the door was hand me a blue wand that is pictured below and and ask, “What’s this?”

It didn’t help that it was stored right next to this:

He was relieved to hear they weren’t related.

Have a nice day.

Tuesday’s Turtle Tutorial

I’m within the 10 day Christmas Countdown window, so the list-making has begun in earnest.  I’ve got three lists on my kitchen table right now.  One is labeled “Dinner Menus”, the second “Christmas Baking”, and the third “Grocery List” to make sure I have the items for lists one and two.

At some point this week I’m making sausage balls, spiced almonds, white chocolate covered almonds (my California uncle sent me three pounds of almonds for Christmas – I’ll be making almond recipes until the cows come home), fudge, and gingerbread cookies.  I’m also eyeing some recipes for hot dips (mmm.. crab, anyone?) that I can make a day or two ahead and reheat so that I’m not in the kitchen all day on my birthday prepping for the snack/appetizer supper we always have after the Christmas Eve services at church.  I still haven’t decided on a dinner plan for Christmas Day, but I think I’m going to do beef of some sort and send Mr. CPQ outside to the smoker to prepare it.

The single most important Christmas candy has already been crossed off the to-do list.  While I was home visiting my folks, my mom encouraged me to go ahead and make my turtles so that I’d have one less thing to do when I came back to North Carolina.  They’re my annual gift to the neighbors, and they love them so much that they’ve begun asking me early in the month if I’ve made them yet.  I thought I’d share the recipe with you since they’re super quick and easy to make and delicious to boot.

And I went all Pioneer Woman on you and included pictures.

You’re welcome.

Turtles

44 Kraft Caramels, unwrapped

1 tablespoon evaporated milk

1 cup chopped pecans (more if you’re a nut freak)

chocolate almond bark for coating

Unwrap the 44 caramels and place inside a microwave safe bowl, add the tablespoon of evaporated milk, and start the microwave at 1 minute, adding 30 second increments until the caramels melt.

And take a moment to admire my mother’s clean microwave.

While the caramels melt in the microwave, rough chop your pecans.

Stir the caramel until it’s smooth, then add the pecans, stirring to combine.

Using either two spoons (or a spoon and well-buttered fingers), scoop out spoonfuls of the caramel pecan mixture and drop onto parchment paper.

This part can be tricky because the caramel is hot.  Be careful.

Or don’t be careful and walk around with burned fingers.

If you want to be extra sure the candy will come up, rub the parchment paper with butter.  I usually just let them cool for a good five minutes and they peel right off.

Your nekkid turtles should look like the following picture.

At this point, you can do one of two things.  If you’re chocolate averse or have friends that are allergic to chocolate, you can stop and just eat them as they are OR you can continue to the enrobing process to make them official turtles.

Grab some almond bark (and why do they call it almond bark when it contains no almonds?), and grab 3-4 blocks and melt them in the microwave according to package directions.

Again, the clean microwave.  I am so adopted….

Plunk your cooled nekkid turtle into the melted chocolate…

Roll it around until it’s covered, pick it up with a fork and let the excess chocolate drain off…..

Place it on parchment paper and let it sit/set for about 15 minutes.

That’s it!  You’re done.

See how easy that was?

Now, hide them from your children.

Have a nice day.