Perfect Day, Danger Cookie

I have an inkling that I’ve got some cranky, uncomfortable, sleep-deprived, psychotic days coming in the next few months, so before those moments rear their ugly heads, I’d like to take a hot second to talk about how perfect yesterday was. 

First, I actually got out of bed ten minutes earlier than usual. (BANANAS! for someone who gets up only 15 minutes before walking out the door each morning.) So I got to work just a little earlier, which made everything seem just a little bit less rushed. I taught lessons that I really love teaching, and my students were well-behaved and pleasant, and I even found a super cool article about mass hysteria on the same day that I was about to start The Crucible! I got five new students in one of my classes, which would usually be something that would make me curse the scheduling gods, except that these all came from an overflowing honors class, and in their first day they completely changed the dynamic of my class for the better. Shoot yeah! I even had a big slice of chocolate cake for lunch, which must have had some magical motivational properties because I also got every single one of my papers graded and recorded.

When I got home, I discovered that my sweet husband had gotten off of work early and opened all of the windows in the house because it was 74 freaking degrees outside! I sat down to eat a potato chip sandwich* and catch up on my Words with Friends games and couldn’t wipe the goofy smile off of my face as I looked around at my clean house , the curtains blowing ever-so-slightly from the breeze outside. My little baby wolf was cute as could be, cuddled up on the couch with his dad, and sensing, I’m pretty sure, that it was the eve of his birthday. So I took him to the dog park where he smiled and ran and smelled stuff and tried to have his way with a German shepherd**. On the way there I talked to one of my favorite ladies (who also played a role in this perfect day) and was reminded of just how much I love my friends.

We returned home, relaxed, ate dinner at an hour that is befitting for normal humans, and watched Top Chef. I remembered that I’d bought myself some very cozy full-panel maternity yoga pants way back in September, so I dug them out (I know, I know, you can hardly handle the sexy) and pretended to kick Matt in the face, telling him that never again would he see a pregnant woman kick that high in the air. (He said to be careful that the baby didn’t shoot out.) And after wanting something sweet, then deciding to go to Wendy’s, then deciding not to go to Wendy’s and to eat grapes instead because I don't need to indulge every single fatbody craving that I ever have just because I am pregnant , I stumbled upon this recipe for Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies on the ol’ Pinterest, and thirty minutes later we were inhaling the salty sweet goodness.**

I know it’s not the most exciting thing for you to read the play-by-play of someone else’s day, but I wanted to document yesterday’s perfection so that I can go back and read about it next time I’m feeling like my body and mind have been inhabited by Satan himself.

But here’s something for you to make up for the syrupy diary-like entry.

Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies. OM-effing-G. Matt and I have decided that these should actually be called Danger Cookies**** because they’re so ridiculously quick and easy to make, and they’re, um, out of control delicious. (And gluten free, too, I think, which I don’t care about but maybe other people do.) I think I’m going to make some for my doctor and then I'll tell them that if he doesn't eat them, I will.  And then when he goes absolutely apeshit eating them I’ll call him a cow.  Ha.

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have to go celebrate my firstborn's 8th birthday with him on this, oh shoot, 81 degree afternoon.  EIGHTY ONE DEGREES!  I can never live anywhere with a real winter again.




*Maybe this wasn’t the healthiest eating day that’s ever been?


**Totally acceptable behavior on the eve of one’s birth.


***After I had two cookies, I did have those grapes, because woman cannot survive on chocolate cake and potato chip sandwiches and peanut butter bacon cookies alone.


****Um, If I had a secret service codename I would want it to be Danger Cookie.

Little Miss Hurricane

Every time I hear anything about Little Miss Hurricane Irene, I can't help but to start singing Johnny Cash's old "Goodnight Irene."  And what's better, then, than a little porch trio singing it?*



For those of you in Miss Irene's** path, be safe, stay dry, and don't try to go swimming in a flash flood.  It always seems like it'll be way more fun than it ends up being.  (Kind of like camping.)

And come back soon, because this weekend I'll be working on a tasty treat revelation (it is like a vision from an angel), working on a few little house projects (because the in-laws are coming next week and the house needs to look like less of a disorganized pile of garbage), and maybe even taking some pictures of Mitch (in case you forgot what he looks like).  If we're lucky, I'll get Matt all liquored up and make him perform dramatic interpretations of Lifetime movies.

Happy weekend!  T minus 45 minutes until I'm inhaling some Mexican food!


*Note to self: start banjo playin' porch trio band with Matt and Mitch.  


**Also can't help but to think of Irene from the Seattle season of The Real World, who told angry Stephen that he was gay and then was the recipient of "The Slap Heard 'Round the World."  TV history!

Long Time No Talk. . .

Well, hello there, party people. Sorry about the week-long absence. Life's been pretty tough for our family lately, but here we are with our heads poking out on the other side. Last time I was on here I was bound and determined that nothing would break my stride. Well, let's just say that the stride was broken like a sombitch. Shoot.

Matt had been out of town (which I didn't tell you about before just in case you are a murderer who would then decide that--since my strapping protector husband was gone--it was high time for some murderin'), and I learned the hard way that I'm just no good at being by myself for long periods of time.* Even Mitch missed him.

But Matt's back, and although there are still some very sad circumstances that are out of our control, and some very annoying circumstances that are out of our control, we're doing better. It's been nice returning to our awesome, albeit boring, routine.

Cue the triumphant Forrest Gump music!



You didn't miss too much in the last week. I spent too many hours grading essays, waiting tables, and being otherwise pitiful. I was abandoned by Matt's car not just once but twice. I may or may not have witnessed a gas station robbery. I ate too much fast food and drank too much wine--so much wine, in fact, that I may have accidentally fallen into some curtains and pulled them down from the window. Oops. I filed the mail for the first time since this happened. And I started our taxes.

Exciting, huh? Try not to get too carried away with jealousy.

Actually, look at today's weather forecast for the SAV, and then you can be overcome with envy.

So, yeah. Things sucked there for a while, and I apologize for the absence. But short weeks and happy times lie ahead of us, and I can't wait to share those with you. I've missed y'all.**



*Judge away. I've spent days beating myself up about not actually being the strong, independent, "I don't need a man" kind of gal I've always fancied myself to be. Twenty-year old Mandy kind of hates twenty-nine year Mandy, but it doesn't really matter. Twenty-year old Mandy was a terrible cook, so take that!


**Twenty-year old Mandy also judges present-day Mandy for her use of y'all. Twenty-year old Mandy is such a bitch!

Your Turn--A Post from Mitch

Hey, guys. It's me, Mitch. Well, I mean, there hasn't been too much going on lately. I turned six, and my mom gave me a Kong. That was pretty cool. Plus, my friend Reilly has been here a lot and that's pretty great. He is so little and funny!

Oh, and a new dog moved in a couple of houses down. He's a black dog, and he has really long hair. I'm feeling him out, doing some sniffing and stuff, trying to decide if he's got friend potential.

I was pretty jealous a few weeks ago every time I'd be reading my dog blogs, because it seemed like it was snowing everywhere. I mean, could I see another picture of a dog running through some snow tunnel or playing fetch with snowballs? I'd never even seen it snow (though Aunt Chloe and I did play fetch with snowballs one Mitchmas). Now, I'm a wild swamp dog--born and raised in Savannah--but even a Southern dog needs some variety every now and again. But it snowed here, and one thing I realized--I mean, snow is a lot like rain, only frozen and cold. So it was cool for a minute, but I'm pretty glad that it went away. I'll stick with the swamps. And by swamps I mean the couch and the bed, and occasionally a trip to my grandparents' lake house.

But you know what other dogs--Fletcher, Phebe, Ein, Skylar, Aunt Doo Doo, Annie--guess what? It's your turn to be jealous. You can be jealous because it's turning to spring here now, and it's been absolutely gorgeous outside. I'm talking sunny and 70 degrees and absolutely perfect. And you know what else? We live by a big awesome park. Boo yah!

When I went outside on Sunday I was so excited, because it was SOOOOOOOOOO pretty. I howled to all of the dog neighbors to tell them to get outside and soak up some of this sunshine!

And then I found a big stick in the yard. I mean, am I the luckiest dog in the world or what?

I tried to give my scariest look when my mom tried to take it from me.

Right after this I escaped from the back yard when Mama wasn't looking and ran to the black dog. I invited him to the park, but he couldn't come because he had to dig a hole. So I went to the park with my mom and dad, and it was just great. I love the park, love the smells, love the scenery, love harassing the bird with the red stuff on his head. Plus, I get to meet lots of other dogs.

And our park even has water fountains for dogs! I mean, is that cool or what? I guess the only bad thing about the walk was that the dog water fountains were broken, so I had to use a human one.

Don't be grossed out. I washed my paws afterward.

Brrrrrrrrrr!

A few weeks back, I was experiencing a bad case of weather envy. Every single person I know, it seemed, was posting pictures of pretty snow over sparkly Christmas lights, and I was sitting down here in stupid old hot humid Savannah wearing flip flops and a tshirt.

My memory of winter is basically this:

Beautiful, snowy Wilson Hall. Snow days and hot chocolate and hats and coats and scarves (the more garish, the better).

Oh, and my hair always looks so much better in the cold. That's probably because when it's cold I abandon my usual "beauty" routine of going to bed with my hair wet and then throwing it in a very messy ponytail. Instead, I blow dry it and--GASP!--brush it. When it's done I look like a real girl.

I seem to have forgotten about what a cold winter is really like. For the last week it's been in the thirties here during the day, and the twenties and teens at night. That's really f'ing cold! That's Maryland cold!

I forgot about dry itchy skin and having to start my car ten minutes before I leave for work. I forgot about the fact that cold weather makes me, well, cold. And cold isn't so comfortable.

When Shipley gave me my Snuggie last spring, I never thought it'd get this much use! Hell, the Snuggie is even all dirty on the bottom since I've been walking around the house and yard wearing it. (Matt is proud and the neighbors think I'm crazy.)

Tip: you can use a scarf to tie around your waist so that you can walk around wearing the Snuggie.

Now, I don't usually share with you my keen sense of fashion because I don't want to alienate people who may be less fashionable than I am. I know that I'm a regular Lauren Conrad when it comes to clothes, and not everyone can be a Lauren Conrad, so please don't feel intimidated when you view the following.

I give you. . .Snuggie fashion.

Here I was on my way to watch a soccer game.

Happy Hump Day! Keep warm!

Mmmmmmm, Chili.

Matt and I aren't usually huge chili eaters, but that could be because we'd never tried this recipe before.

For those of you who are snowed in, I'd recommend it. For those of you who aren't, go ahead and make it, too. It can feed an army, is loaded with flavor, is inexpensive to make, and, since it uses ground turkey instead of beef, is relatively healthy.

Oh, and have some dogs close by in case you drop a half pound of cooked ground turkey on the floor.

Turkey Chili Recipe (adapted from this one on the world wide web)

Ingredients:

2 cups chopped onion
4 garlic cloves, chopped fine
1 cup chopped green pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
2 (35 oz) cans stewed tomatoes, crushed
2 (15 oz) cans kidney beans, drained
2 Tbsp tomato paste
3/4 cup chicken or turkey stock
2 Tbsp chili powder (or up to 4 Tbsp if you like it really hot)
1 Tbsp ground cumin
1 Tbsp dried hot red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon unsweetened cocoa
1 Tbsp salt, plus more if desired to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2-2 1/2 pounds ground turkey, browned
Sugar
Shredded cheddar cheese, chopped red onion, sour cream for optional garnish.

Directions:

1 In a large, 8-quart, thick-bottom pot, cook the onion and green pepper over medium high heat, stirring, until golden, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic, chili powder, cumin, and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, for a minute or two more. Add a bit more olive oil if needed.

2 Add tomatoes, tomato paste, stock, beans, oregano, cocoa, salt, pepper, and cooked turkey meat. Bring mixture to a simmer and reduce heat to low. Simmer, uncovered, for an hour.

3 Salt to taste. Add 1 to 3 teaspoons of sugar to take the edge of the acidity of the tomatoes if desired.

The chili may be made in advance and chilled for 2 days, or frozen for 2 months.

Serve with shredded cheddar cheese, chopped red onion, and or sour cream. Serve alone, over rice, or with corn bread.

Makes about 12 cups. Serves 8.

Happy cooking and eating to you!

Weather Envy

One of my favorite things about Gmail is how it keeps me informed about the weather in my neck of the woods. I especially love the days that it rains and rains, and how the raindrops scattered across my email look like I could just lick them off.

But now Gmail has gone too far, and is being a weather tease. Tonight I logged in and saw this:

Oh, is that snow piled up on the Gmail lettering? Yeah. But is it going to snow here in Savannah? No. No it's not.

We moved to Savannah six years ago, and I have not seen snow since. I know that there are people out there who hate the snow and its inconveniences, but I am not one of those people. I love the snow. I love how pretty it is. I eat it. I sled. I try to ski. Snow makes me happy. And since I've never lived north of Maryland, I've never had enough snow for me to be sick of it.

Combined with my love for snow is my love for time off work. I'm a teacher. In Savannah. And I never have the joy of turning on the TV to discover that school's been cancelled because of snow (though we do have a hurricane day off every few years). No 1-hour late days, no 2-hour late days. (PS--2-hour late days were the best things of all: extra sleep, shorter classes, no makeup days.)

Right now almost everyone I know is buried under a couple feet of snow. I'm trying not to be the "grass is greener" type, but it's killing me. Even when the rational part of me explains away how the snow would be an inconvenience and how I'm being stupidly nostalgic, the childish and jealous side of me prevails, and I get pouty and stupid.

So F you, Gmail. (Unless, of course, you know something I don't and I'm waking up tomorrow to a winter wonderland.) Don't be a snow tease.

Everyone else, either appreciate the shit out of your gorgeous snow or tell me about how horrible it is.