Monthly Archives: August 2013

Obviously, I failed Home Ec.

This is an excerpt from an article by Kristen Fisher on Ehow:

Bundt pans Vs. Angel food pans

While the two cake pans look similar, they should not be used interchangeably.  Bundt cake batter and angel food cake batter have different consistencies.  Angel food cake batter is usually frothier; baking a Bundt cake in an angel food pan may cause the batter to leak out from the removable bottom.

 One might think this should be fairly obvious.  It’s not.  I think this is why people call me “book smart.”

 
 Here’s the full link, in case you are similarly challenged.  Please note, although the article doesn’t specifically mention it, an angel food pan should also not be used for monkey bread.  Ever. 
P.S.  I didn’t know what to do at that point – I mean, the house was already full of smoke, so….I decided to finish baking the monkey bread.  I did not know this was even possible, but the burners on my stove actually filled with liquid and started smoking.  My kids are yelling at me for taking pictures.  I’m so glad my husband is not home.
P.P.S.  Why is my smoke detector that goes off every time I make toast not going off when there is literally a black cloud over the whole kitchen and half the house? 
P.P.P.S.  Do you think the monkey bread is going to taste bad?

In local news…

I’m not even sure what to say about this.


Hmm. And here I thought I was just an asshole.

I saw this on FB yesterday and decided it was a must-do.  Turns out, I’m not an asshole.
I’m an introvert.  Take the quiz, maybe you’re not an asshole either!

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/08/20/introverts-signs-am-i-introverted_n_3721431.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000009

Not sure if you’re an innie or an outie?  See if any of these
23 telltale signs of introversion apply to you.

1. You find small talk incredibly cumbersome.

Yes.  But I thought I was just not that friendly.

2. You go to parties – but not to meet people.

Why on earth would I want to talk to strangers?  If I go to a party it’s because someone
talked me into it, probably using words like “free beer.”

3. You often feel alone in a crowd.

I often feel like I need to get away from crowds.

4. Networking makes you feel like a phony.

Because it is phony.

5. You’ve been called “too intense.”

Not to my face.

6. You’re easily distracted.

Considering I’m supposed to be doing my real job right now,
I’d say that’s a yes.

7. Downtime doesn’t feel unproductive to you.

What is this “downtime” you speak of?

8. Giving a talk in front of 500 people is less stressful than having to mingle with those people
afterwards.

I guess so.  Both sound super sucky.

9. When you get on the subway, you sit at the end of the bench – not in the middle.

Supposing I ever decided to ride a giant speeding train propelled through tunnels underground by God knows what power, yes, I guess I probably would sit at the end of the bench.  I like to have an exit handy.  Just in case.

10. You start to shut down after you’ve been active for too long.

Oh yeah.  It takes me a full day to recover after a trip to the grocery store.

11. You’re in a relationship with an extrovert.

He’s crazy.  Don’t listen to anything he tells you.

12. You’d rather be an expert at one thing than try to do everything.

I dunno….I like to be good at things….this one’s too hard.  Pass.

13. You actively avoid any shows that might involve audience participation.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.  Doesn’t everyone?

14. You screen all your calls — even from friends.

Sorry, guys.  Read the article.  I’m not an asshole.  It’s a syndrome, or something.

15. You notice details that others don’t.

Huh?

16. You have a constantly running interior monologue.

I like to hear myself think.

17. You have low blood pressure.

Yes.  My blood pressure is super chill.

18. You’ve been called an “old soul” -– since your 20s.

Again, not to my face.

19. You don’t feel “high” from your surroundings

Do people actually do this? I thought that’s why we all partied so much in our 20s?

20. You look at the big picture.

I look at all the pictures.

21. You’ve been told to “come out of your shell.”

I’ve been trying to tell people that I’m shy for years.  No one listens.

22. You’re a writer.

That seems a little extreme.

23. You alternate between phases of work and solitude, and periods of social activity.

**This is where I stopped.  I feel like you’re prying.  Please stop asking me these questions, or I’m going to have to go home.

***I would never actually say that to someone.  (Because I’d already be in the car.)


Back to school. *sigh*

The kids went back to school today. I started freaking out about it Friday and proceeded to organize everything in my house, like it would somehow protect them from bullies, mean teachers, yucky food, and head lice.  If everything was in just the right spot, what could go wrong? (I realize this is nuts.  Thanks.)

I think I did pretty good at hiding my back-to-school and sending-my-baby-to-Pre-K anxiety from the children. I was all hearts and flowers and “It will be SO MUCH FUN! Aren’t you EXCITED?!” But inside I was like “Waaaaa! My babies.”

I’m not alone in this.  My husband has called me three times this morning, the last time to ask if he “should just go take a peek and see how she’s doing.”  No.  That’s frowned upon.  I know my limits, so I’m just staying away from that school. If any of the three kids even wrinkled a nose at me, I’d have ‘em packed in the car and the homeschool books ordered.

It’s not that I’m against public schools.  It’s not that I think my local school is a bad school.  It’s just that I love my kids the way they are.  I hate how rigid the schools are and how every child is expected to be just like every other child.  (My middle child is certainly well on his way to teaching them different.)  I mean, c’mon, do ALL the pencils have to be plain yellow #2 pencils? If my kid, who hates school with such a passion, wants a freaking green pencil, I’m fine with that.  My little one (who has been home with me since she first wiggled in my belly) was so excited to take her tiny little backpack today.  No.  No backpacks allowed.  Because Lord knows what a 4-year-old might smuggle into school in a 6-inch My Little Pony backpack.

I see the pros of school.  Interacting with peers, learning to follow rules, getting along with others, learning how to deal with assholes – these are all things children need to know.  But not every kid is a yellow #2 pencil.  I don’t want my purple-striped, glitter-covered, shiny-polka-dotted, maybe-chewed-a-little-bit pencils sharpened down until they match all the others.


I love you, but you’re kind of a dick.

I sent this picture to my husband in a text message.  I was laughing hysterically.
Me:  I almost forgot.  I saw this yesterday and it made me think of you.
He doesn’t reply.
He still doesn’t reply.
Me:  Get it?  (still cackling to myself.)
He doesn’t reply.
Me:  It reminded me of you…because you’re kind of a dick!!!  Hahahahaaha.
He still does not reply. 
What a dick.

Crafting by the seat of my pants.

So I like to get crafty.  In some areas of my life I’ve been told I can be a little OCD, but not when I’m making something.  I love using found items, because I’m super cheap.

Example:  I just took my son shopping.  He wouldn’t get out of the car.  I said, “I’m buying YOU clothes, come on.”  He looks around suspiciously and says, “Is this a thrift store?”  (It was not.  It was a going out of business sale.  Everything was 70% off!)

Right now my obsession is painting old, crappy furniture so that it looks like old, crappy furniture.  But I keep forgetting to take “before” pictures, so I show people and they’re like, “Great!  What are you going to do with that?”  and I’m all, “Um, I already did it.  Asshole.”

But don’t get excited.  This isn’t that kind of blog.  I’ll never be able to do one of those tutorials because:

a. I’m very forgetful (see above about the pictures.  Also, I was just repainting a bookshelf with only three shelves.  I’d paint, go to dip my brush, and forget which shelf I was on.)

b. I don’t do anything the right way.  For instance, I’m painting this bookshelf.  I’m using house paint, because I found it and therefore it was free.  I’m using tiny paint brushes my son got with an art set for Christmas approximately three years ago.  I don’t sand anything.  I barely even wiped it off before I got started.  I was ready to paint, dammit!

c.  I am currently in the middle of about 15 projects.  Seriously.  My tutorial would go something  like, “You will need 25 river rocks all the same size and shape, 5 skeins green yarn (used), some white vinegar, and….oh to hell with this, I can’t find my glue gun.”


Unusual wall hanging.

This is why I love Craigslist.
These customizable wall hangings are available for purchase.  I don’t know about you, but I feel like I really, really need one.

I’m really brave.

Conversation between me and Gus, while watching TV:

Me:  This is dumb.

Gus: Yeah.

Me:  OMG!  It’s a scary kid!  Come sit by me.

Me:  (Muffled, as my head is under a blanket) Oh.  It’s just a monkey.

Me:  I’m really brave.  I can’t believe I watched that.

Gus:  You’re crushing me.  And I can’t believe you saw that with a blanket over your head.

Gus:  Did you just say you’re really brave?


Seriously. This happened.

I realize that I may seem obsessed with goats.  I assure you, I am not.
But.  Before we moved into our new home, we had a ton of cleaning and remodeling to do. (Like, the 500 used needles in the yard. ”I’m not a crackhead, I have diabetes.”  Mmmhmm. Whatever.)
So, anyway, we moved Curly over first and she kind of went apeshit.  It may have been the freedom.  At our old place, she had to be tied up.  Here, she had a pond and a field and tons of room to roam.  Of course, she would not stay in the field, but preferred to gallop (goats gallop, shut up) around the yard menacingly and poop on the porch.
One day I went over to work on the place, and discovered we had had an INTRUDER.
Seriously, y’all.  Someone broke in and wrote on the walls.  This is where it gets weird.  They wrote GOUT KILLER.  Now.  I’m still a bit baffled by this.  I think gout is something to do with feet.  And I’m pretty sure it’s not a good thing.  But I’m no killer.  So, uh…… what?  I kind of wished they’d come back, and like, clarify.  They didn’t.  Anyway. We painted over this cryptic message and moved in.
A few weeks later, our goat, God Rest Her Soul, was attacked and eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs.  I shit you not.  Gus and I had to beat them off of her with shovels (‘cause we are totally badass and zombies better WATCH OUT).
The moral of this story is unclear.  It’s either, vandals can’t spell and also hate goats OR I am destined for weirdness and goat-induced mayhem.

That’s just good parenting.

We had family game night last night.  I didn’t want to, because I had a ton of work, as I explained to my ungrateful children.

Me:  Can’t.  I have a ton of work and I don’t want to be up all night trying to catch up.

Thing 2:  OMG ( actually saying Oh Em Gee), mom, why didn’t you get your work done this morning?

Me:   Oh Em Gee!  Because I was too busy twiddling my thumbs and smoking crack.   I have been working ALL DAY!

Thing 1:  Where are you going?  It’s time to play a game.  No.  If you don’t have time to play a game with us, then you don’t have time for that. (Physically blocking my speedy exit, because the little shit is bigger than me.  Uncool.)

Me:  Alright, fine, I’ll finish my work and then we’ll play.

After much debate between my husband and two sons, they picked Cranium, which is actually pretty fun.  Kind of like a Pictionary/word game/scavenger hunt/thing.  With kids.

It went pretty well. My oldest and I were on a team against my husband and Thing 2.  We totally stomped them.  So much so that during the second game, my husband started saying “nipple” when it was our turn, to distract us.  It worked.  A teenager cannot focus on the task at hand (or stop laughing) when he hears the word “nipple.”

Turns out, neither can I.


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