Friday, June 17, 2011

Domestic Goddess Is Not Listed On My Resume. Apparently for very good reason.

The problem with having more and more people I know read blog is that I'm becoming more and more limited with who I can write about. Since I'm surrounded by crazy people I find myself surrounded by tons of blogworthy anecdotes. But then I remember they're crazy in the obviously I'm talking about you; who else do you know on the planet that thinks it's a good idea to wear chaps with nothing under them to work? kind of way. And that means they're pretty recognizable. And so then they'll obviously recognize themselves and know I'm blogging about them. And, again, they're crazy. Which means unstable. And I like living.

So, instead, I'll tell you about how I baked bread.

Or thought it would be a good idea to try to bake bread. Because my kids started going away for visits to their dads' every other weekend and I was actually finding myself lonely and depressed and thinking no one would want me because I was a single mom with two kids from two different fathers and did I really want to risk someone introducing me to their mother as 'a good Jerry Springer candidate I met at the bar'? I think not. So I decided to improve my situation by improving myself. And, to me, that meant I should learn a new hobby.

I first tried to decorate cakes. Except I don't like cake. It's too crumbly and gritty - all those little cake granules bugging my taste buds. I would bake a cake, decorate it and then try to find someone to hand the cake off to. But people think you're crazy when you jump out and shove a lopsided cake with splotchy wannabe flowers piped on it in their face.

Then I tried to embroider a pillowcase. I found a white pillowcase with a light blue design stamped on its edge and thought how quaint would that be if I embroidered those fancy little motifs? But it wasn't quaint at all because my eyes kept crossing and I kept pricking my damn fingers on the stupid needle and I really only knew one stitch anyway so it kind of was a visual letdown.

After two failures I decided what I needed was to get back to the basics. Stay away from all this fancy, frilly stuff. What's more basic than baking bread? People have been doing it successfully for centuries!

I google searched "homemade bread easy I'm just a beginner" and found a recipe that looked like a 4-year old could do it. I eagerly shopped for my ingrediants and got to work. My plan was to mix the dough. Wash laundry and clean the house while it was rising. Enjoy the whole punch it down factor (which honestly seemed like the only fun part about making bread) and let it rise again before baking. I was intent on following the recipe to a T and promised not to get impatient.

But the sucker wouldn't rise.

At all.

In fact, it wouldn't even budge.

All day long I waited. And fumed. My house was spotless, but there would be no freshly baked bread to enjoy. I finally got so mad that around eleven o'clock that night I threw the sticky mess into the garbage can, slammed the lid, and chalked it up to yet another domestic failure.

And in the morning, when I went to throw the wrapper of my morning pop-tart away, I saw the dough had risen to consume the entire 13 gallon trash can. And yes, I actually did consider pulling it out and baking it. But I didn't. Because I have boundaries in blogging and in bread.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Cutting For Stone

I stayed up way too late last night finishing the book Cutting For Stone by Abraham Verghese. I liked it. But I wouldn't actually recommend it to anyone I personally knew because they might be all why did she want me to read THIS book? There's a lot of gross descriptive surgery scenes. And whores. A lot of sex with whores. But not a whole lot. Just a little bit, you know? But someone who might be a tad uptight might think that's just three whores too many, you know?

I had to finish it because I have to start our next book club book called The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom (no relation to CSI's Dr. Gil Grissom) before Book Club actually meets. And also because I just bought seven books from the library sale for a dollar. I may have to take a week off of work just to catch up on my reading.

As you can see I was being practically forced to stay up late reading - and it totally worked out because Big V was not even home. This is important for pleasant reading experience achievement because sometimes he likes to purposely interrupt my reading by attempting to draw me into conversations by saying stupid things like did you remember to make my lunch? You don't have to; I just thought it would be nice if you did or I can't believe [insert sports player name I've never heard of] just [insert sports related action which basically means the guy missed whatever he was supposed to do].

Meanwhile I'm fighting the urge to snap you never want to talk to me when we're having sex so why should I talk to you now when I'm reading?

Anyway. I read. And I read. And I read. And just when I thought I got to the part where they all live happily ever after I turned the page and realized the author had kept writing. As I thumbed through the remaining pages I thought how many chapters does this guy need to write 'and they all lived happily ever after'?

Except guess what?

[spoiler alert]


They don't live happily ever after at all. And I start crying. Like really crying. Tears streaming down my cheeks because I did not see that coming! And also, I do have a sense of compassion even though the majority of the people in the world would bet their paycheck that I didn't. And tears are dripping off my face and I'm sniffling and snorting (don't judge; like you've never ugly-cried before) and Big V comes bopping into the bedroom and starts yapping about how he just got home and he's probably going to take a shower because he's covered in grout and - hey, are you crying?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I am crying! What's it to you?


Why what?

Why are you crying? Is something the matter? What happened?

It's the book!

The book? The one you're reading?


That book is making you cry?


See, this is why I don't read. Literature can hurt.

(Oh, yes, but I wouldn't want it any other way.)

"You are an instrument of God. Don't leave the instrument sitting in its case, my son. Play! Leave no part of your instrument unexplored. Why settle for 'Three Blind Mice' when you can play the 'Gloria'?"  - Cutting For Stone

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

It's Flag Day and I Totally Forgot My Flag

Today is Flag Day, except I don't even know what that means even though I'm pretty sure I should. I just know that it says Flag Day on my calendar like it's a holiday but it must be a holiday nobody likes because (1) I still have to go to work and (2) Yahoo doesn't even have any clip art on their home page. I was expecting some little dude walking across the header to raise his flag. But there's nothing.

Had I noticed the un-holiday earlier I could've totally dressed up like Betsy Ross. I think she sewed a flag or two back in the day. Or I could've gathered flags and decorated my office. I can't now, though, because it's not like I have a bunch of flag fabric lying around the house. I do have some bed sheets. Maybe I could put those up in the office.

Anyway, I was curious as to what Flag Day is all about and why we don't celebrate it by having the day off, so I looked it up on Wikipedia... and was instantly reminded of my high school history class which totally explains why I have no idea what Flag Day actually is. (Sorry, Mr. Patterson, I know you tried.)

Anyway, there was a whole lot of information written but it didn't even mention Betsy Ross so thank goodness I didn't make a fool out of myself by dressing like her. Instead I should have worn a suit and tweeted a photo of my underwear because Flag Day is all about an act of congress.

Oh, and also the fact that Teddy Roosevelt was a complete bully. Thank you, Wikipedia, for sharing the truth about that 'carry a big stick' belief system he had:

1908, Theodore Roosevelt: Oral tradition passed on through multiple generations holds that on June 14, Theodore Roosevelt was dining outside Philadelphia, when he noticed a man wiping his nose with what he thought was the American Flag. In outrage, Roosevelt picked up a small wooden rod and began to whip the man for "defacing the symbol of America." After about five or six strong whacks, he noticed that the man was not wiping his nose with a flag, but with a blue handkerchief with white stars. Upon realization of this, he apologized to the man, but hit him once more for making him "riled up with national pride."

This act of national pride might just explain why in 1908 Teddy Roosevelt also declined to run for re-election. Coincidence? Perhaps not...

Monday, June 13, 2011

Next Stop: The Boston Marathon! Or maybe just some Slimfast.

Once upon a time I looked like this:

Which is to say, in shape and thin. (I had better pictures, but they just kinda sorta just made me look like a bar whore - no matter how hard I tried to photoshop the shot glasses out of the pictures and replace them with bible clip art.)

Then I met Big V and we got engaged. And pregnant. Except, by we I mean just I got pregnant and ended up looking like this:

Now, 21 months after I gave birth I look like this:

Like I'm going to show you my stomach. Not. A. Chance.

And now THIS has happened:

What is this, you ask? This is 65 of my used-to-fit-me shirts that are now being asked to leave my closet. Yes, sixty five. Including my super-duper all time favorite Woods Tree Farm long sleeved t-shirt. If I had a dollar for each shirt that no longer fits me due to girth restraints I could go out and buy me something like this:

Also, I just want you to know that so far today I have had one can of Diet Dr. Pepper, one Kit-Kat bar, one Twix bar, one Snickers bar, one Milky Way bar, one Crunch bar and one Oreo Dipped Delight Bar. I think I may have a problem.

Also, my teeth hurt.