Just When I Thought I Was Too Tired To Blog, I Got A Phone Call

11 August 2007 by

Thursday night was the worst night I’ve had sleep-wise since Alex was a baby. I tossed, I turned, I flipped, I sighed, and when I finally dozed off around three (yes! THREE!) in the morning, a certain preschooler snapped me right out of my peaceful almost-slumber when he started to cry.

So I went to his room, made sure he was fine, walked back to our room, crawled in the bed, tried to relax, and about five minutes later Maggie the Lab started whimpering.

Apparently she’s changed her must-get-out-of-the-house strategy. She didn’t ROOOOOOO – it was more of an AWWWWWWR. So I got out of bed (again), stomped down the hallway, took both dogs outside to the bathroom, cajoled them back into the house, and fought the urge to say Very Mean Things. But then I looked at the clock, and would you like to know what time it was?

3:16.

Good one, God. Nice bit-o-perspective, it was.

And then I wondered if dogs or children ever wake up God in the middle of the night, and if they do, does it make him just a wee bit angry?

Okay. Probably not.

Anyway, I went back to bed and slept for THREE WHOLE HOURS, so as you might guess I woke up feeling like I’d been to a spa. A spa where they beat your eyelids with spiky reeds that have been soaked in gasoline.

Since we had a busy morning Friday, I had high hopes for an afternoon nap. However, for some strange reason I was unsuccessful in my nap-taking efforts (“MAMA?!? I’M DONE WITH REST TIME! ARE YOU RESTING?!? DO YOU WANNA PLAY THE WII, MAMA?!?”), and right about the time I decided to give up on the nap and face the world, Martha called.

Now in the interest of time – because I know you all must have things you’d like to accomplish before 2011 – I’m going to skip over Martha’s stories about having the soffits painted, going to lunch at Macaroni Grill (suffice it to say that Martha is not a fan of the Penne Rustica), finding a place for a computer she may be getting, discovering that her previous house painter DID NOT CAULK A THING! HE DIDN’T CAULK A THING! NOT A SINGLE THING!, and taking a computer course with her friend Betty in the late 1980’s where they worked with Macs and Martha made a 98 on her final exam.

So then.

Earlier this week Martha went shopping in Jackson, Mississippi with her friends Mary Ann, Minnie and Rubena. They had MORE! FUN!, as they always do. However, for the first time in, well, MY WHOLE LIFE, Martha didn’t say a single word about the clothes that she tried on and/or purchased at Steinmart(s) because she couldn’t wait to tell me about their trip to the furniture store.

You see, there is a furniture store right outside of Jackson that is the biggest single-store retail establishment I have ever seen in my life. It’s called Miskelly’s, and I’d be very surprised if there’s anyone in Mississippi who hasn’t heard of it. It is ginormous squared, and Martha & Company absolutely love to stop by there when they’re in Jackson.

But they don’t go because they want to look at furniture, necessarily. Oh, heavens no.

They go because Miskelly’s has, according to Martha, “some of the most wonderful homemade cakes you’ve ever tasted.”

And with those wonderful cakes they serve complimentary coffee, sweet tea and lemonade.

AT THE FURNITURE STORE.

So as Martha continued, I listened with great interest as she explained that she really likes the Italian cream cake at Miskelly’s, and the caramel cake is good, too, but she doesn’t really care for the devil’s food, even though that is absolutely Rubena’s favorite.

I started to think about how people in other parts of the country might find this whole furniture store-serving-cake-and-sweet-tea thing quite odd indeed, yet the only part of the story that seemed odd to me is that Martha never mentioned Miskelly’s pound cake. I mean, any Southerner knows that you live and die by your homemade pound cake, and it made me wonder if they’re still looking for the right recipe, or if they’ve found that people who shop in their store prefer cakes with icing, or if maybe they serve pound cake in the morning but not in the afternoon because pound cake is oftentimes a breakfast food in this part of the country, and really, I should tell my mama to call them, because her pound cake is the best in three states – maybe four – and if Miskelly’s served her pound cake there’s no question that even more people would want to stop by the furniture store for dessert.

And then my train of thought about the pound cake froze in its tracks.

Because I realized, in a moment of utter clarity, that somehow, over the last ten years, Martha has trained me to think just like she does.

And I didn’t even know it.

Which led me to my next realization:

Martha is like some sort of Southern Jedi, y’all.

Oh yes ma’am she is.

However.

She would never wear one of those Jedi robes because 1) they probably itch 2) they make you look three sizes bigger than you actually are and 3) brown isn’t really her color.

But who knows? Maybe Steinmart(s) will be able to pull together a cute little Southern Jedi uniform for her the next time she’s in Jackson.

And then she can stop at the furniture store for cake and coffee on her way home.

Filed Under: Family Fun

Because I’m Sure You’ve Been Terribly Concerned

9 August 2007 by

It would just be wrong if I didn’t let you know that our internet AND our cable came back on last night. Apparently it was “an area problem,” and when entire areas are affected by an outage, the cable people hop to it, all johnny-on-the-spot and such.

Of course, I like to think that they read my post and were skeered.

Because I am delusional.

In other news, it’s still unbearably hot.

In fact, it’s so hot that I wouldn’t let our dogs stay outside last night. Our dogs were always inside dogs until we moved, at which point Maggie the Lab decided that the indoors caused her to yelp repeatedly. Because CHAIRS! ROOOOOOO! TABLES! ROOOOOOO!

Ally the Mutt, on the other hand, was still absolutely fine with the indoors, because the rugs, oh the rugs are so delightfully soft and the windows, well they are spectacular because they afford a view of all the many unsuspecting creatures that she one day plans to chase, but these things are no fun at all, apparently, without Maggie. Since Maggie wanted to be outside, preferably in the garage, Ally wanted to be outside, and – I think you see where this is going – they have both been outside, except when it was cold, ever since.

But last night it was hotter than blue blazes at midnight, and they were panting like crazy, and I told them that they must come in the house, and that was an order, and here! here! are some delicious bone-shaped, chicken-flavored treats with which I will entice you!

And they were not interested.

So then I took a Very Special Blanket and spread it out on the floor, and I said look! look! I am offering you some fabulously plush accommodations, as if this were a Four Seasons for puppy dogs, and yet they were still not interested. They just stood at the kitchen door, panting, waiting for me to up the ante a bit.

But then Ally took another look at the chicken-flavored treat. And she took a bite. And then, as she ambled into the kitchen, she looked around and was all, “Hey. It rocks in here. I’m all about it, Mama.”

Maggie, however, wouldn’t budge.

Because LAMPS! ROOOOOO! And APPLIANCES! ROOOOOO!

But then I whispered, “Hey. Maggie. The internet is up again. AND CABLE, TOO!”

Except I think we all know that I didn’t really whisper that at all.

I did, however, offer her two more delicious chicken-flavored treats.

At which point she walked right in the laundry room, refused to lie down, and for all I know stood in that exact same spot until I took those two crazy canines for a walk this morning.

However, she did not ROOOOOOO one time. Not even a ROOO. Or a RO.

Between that and the fast cable service, I think we’re on a bit of a roll.

Filed Under: Rambling

Hello, How Are You, Our Internet Is Down

8 August 2007 by

So earlier this afternoon I was trying to tend to a little bloggy business after Alex and I got home from some errands, and after I tried to access my email for about the fifth time, I thought, Hmmmm, perhaps something is awry with the interweb.

At which point I said what I always do when computer problems present themselves: “HUSBAND?!?! HUSSSSSSSS-BAND?!?!”

He loves it when I do that. It’s such a soothing interlude in the middle of a stressful workday.

After some basic troubleshooting, he realized that the problem wasn’t something we can fix (and by “we,” I clearly mean “he”), so he called our internet provider. They’re scheduled to be at the house tomorrow morning, and it’s pretty much a given that I will twitch and tremor with abandon betwixt now and then.

Because did I mention that the television cable is out as well? ON THE NIGHT WHEN “Top Chef” COMES ON?

And here’s the thing: I didn’t really have anything all that urgent to do on the computer tonight – just some emails I need to follow up on and that kind of stuff – but I’m telling you, the realization that I can’t access email at my house makes me a little glossy eyed. I mean, I might as well be a pioneer or something. In ye olden days.

It’s like I’m Laura Ingalls Wilder, only without the sassy bonnet and the cute, calico-print dress. And, you know, a wagon.

So about two hours into our completely involuntary technology detox, I started mumbling something about “Panera, need to get to Panera, if I could just get to Panera with the laptop I could CHECK THE EMAIL.” And lest you think I’m completely crazy, there’s a specific email I’ve been waiting on, one of those where you sort of cross your fingers everytime you hear your inbox ding with a new message, and not being able to check my email has left my OCD up the proverbial creek without, well, a high-speed internet connection.

And who would ever, EVER want to be up a creek without a high-speed internet connection? NOT MY OCD, I’ll tell you that much right now.

Anyway, after supper when I looked at D. with my left eye blinking fast enough to generate enough power for a small kitchen appliance and asked, “So. Do you want me to go to Panera now? Or after Howard’s bath? Because the email? I need to check the email,” he immediately said, “Now! You can go now! We don’t mind! You can go now!”

My OCD is fun for the entire family, as you can tell.

Of course when I finally checked my email I didn’t have The Message I was waiting on, but I did have – HOLD ON FOR THE IRONY – an email offer for telephone service from our internet service provider / cable company.

I wanted to reply and tell them how – funny story! true story! – tonight I actually had to LEAVE MY HOUSE to check my email and use the internet, so if they can promise that same level of service with the phone, then SIGN ME UP!

Oh, life is funny.

And I guess I’m going to go home now and read. Or weave thread on a loom. Or churn butter. Or something.

There’s just not a bit of telling.

Filed Under: Rambling

I Do Hope You’ll Play Along

7 August 2007 by

Veronica tagged me for an Alumni Newsletter Meme that she found at Stacie’s. Here’s how Veronica explained it:

The idea is to write two blurbs for the alumni newsletter, updating your life. The first should be the perky, show-offy kind that everyone writes. The second should be the darker side of honest.

Really, I had no choice but to accept this challenge. I love reading the updates in our alumni magazine, but I’ve never actually written one. Until, of course, now.

And just FYI: you’re all tagged for this meme. Because it’s fun.

Version 1:

S. has been happily married to fellow MSU graduate D. for ten years. They have been blessed with an outgoing four year-old little boy who delights them on a daily basis. D.’s career enables him to work from home, and as a result S., D. and Alex enjoy an extraordinary amount of time together. S. does some part-time work that puts her English degree to the test, but her favorite job is being Alex’s mama. Their family lives in Alabama, and they’d love for you to stop by if you’re ever passing through their area! Until then, you can catch up on their lives by visiting S.’s blog, BooMama.

Version 2:

S. and D. have been happily married for ten years, though every once in awhile it feels like it’s been much, much longer. They have a delightful four year-old son whose name is Alex, but lately he’s also answering to Howard. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what you call him because he will talk to a fence post. For hours. And when he has finished talking to the fence post, he will try to dismantle it using only his bare hands, some mad kah-rah-tay kicks and a weathered Superman action figure.

Since D.’s career enables him to work from home, there are some days when S. will look at him and say, ever-so-sweetly, “I REALLY NEED SOME TIME ALONE. BY MYSELF. WITH NO ONE HERE.” She does some part-time work in her degree field, but she still doesn’t think of herself as a legitimate writer. Therefore, she calls herself a “writer.” She believes that her lack of wri-confidence stems from being pegged as a bowhead in grad school, where her classmates would often look at her (and her large, chiffon hairbow) with bemused detachment when she spoke up in class. Even though she was totally deep. And stuff. Y’all.

But she’s not bitter.

S. thinks that being Alex / Howard’s mama is the greatest job in the world, though there are definitely days when she requires a Special Touch From The Lord in order to keep her cool, what with all the jumping and screaming and daredeviling. Their family loves living in Alabama, and they hope you’ll stop by if you’re ever in their area. Or you just can hop over to S.’s blog, BooMama, where she “writes” and overuses capital letters ON A DAILY BASIS.

But if you happen to read the blog, be aware that most references to the blog in the course of real-life casual conversation will cause S. to twitch with unmitigated fury and then seek the comfort of a dark, isolated corner where she will sit cross-legged and rock back and forth until she feels invisible.

But aside from that, she’s still completely normal.

Filed Under: Bloggity Fun

In Which My Nerves Have Proven Themselves To Be Surprisingly Resilient

7 August 2007 by

An incomplete list of objects that were nearly destroyed by the four year-old yesterday:

– a window pane in the dining room
– the glass top of the living room coffee table
– a leg on the breakfast room table
– two remote controls
– the big toe on his left foot
– an arm of one of the living room chairs
– his bed frame
– a glass storm door
– a plastic pirate ship
– several wooden closet doors
– Superman’s cape

And then, at Office Max:

– a display of copier paper
– a faucet in the restroom
– a rack of computer games
– a metal shelving unit
– an upholstered desk chair

Last night on the phone I told Mama that I really don’t think it’ll be any time at all before he starts putting holes in the floors.

Using only the force of his ever-stomping feet.

Filed Under: Chatty McTalky

And If You Wanted To Dip Them In Homemade Ranch Dressing, I Would Totally Support That Decision

6 August 2007 by

Moriah emailed me to ask if I’d post the recipe for my homemade croutons (as seen in my random picture post a couple of days ago).

And so, to answer her: why yes, Moriah – I’d be delighted.

As a brief aside (oh, who am I kidding? I have never been acquainted with “brief” in my life, just as I have never been acquainted with “dainty”), I started making these croutons when I was doing a white flour / white sugar detox back in the spring. The homemade croutons have gotten me through some difficult, must-eat-something-crunchy-right-this-second moments. And I like to make them in smaller batches because I think they’re better fresh.

Come to think of it, I don’t really care for any food when it’s NOT fresh. Because as a general rule I tend to avoid, you know, OLD FOOD. On pure principle, really.

Anyway. The croutons.

8 slices stone ground whole wheat bread
1/2 stick melted butter
garlic powder
dried basil
dried oregano
dried dill weed
paprika
lite salt (just because that’s what we use at our house)
freshly ground black pepper
shredded Parmesan cheese

Cube bread slices and place in a large mixing bowl. Pour melted butter over bread and toss with your hands. If you think it looks like you need more butter, add it.

I will never, ever discourage you from additional butter usage.

I have no idea how much of each seasoning I use – we call it the “shaky shake” method around here because I typically let Alex shake the bottles until I say “WHOA.” But my best guess is that it’s about a teaspoon of all the seasonings and then 1/4 cup of the Parmesan.

Once you’ve added all the ingredients, toss the croutons again with your hands, and put them on a cookie sheet.

Bake at 450 for about 10 minutes or until the croutons are crispy.

Taste the end result and then say, “OH, HOLLA!”

Or not. It’s completely up to you.

Filed Under: Cooking
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