Posts Tagged ‘family’

The person who came up with Daylight Savings did not have a child, or they at least didn’t do the majority of the child rearing.  Jerk.  This is evil punishment which has been placed upon working mothers worldwide.

So here I am writing, a day late, about my Sunday.  I blame it on Daylight Savings…. All of it.

Sunday morning 9:15. I have not turned the clocks ahead.  I forgot.  Oh, I knew it was coming.  I was warned, gently reminded and even received several email and voicemail so that I would not forget.  I’m sure you’ve met them, those people who like to do that.  They are the ones that appear at your office door, well rested and exhibiting zero caffeine withdrawal, “So… ya ready for that time change this weekend?” followed by a chuckle.

Then they hang there for a few more seconds, grinning and waiting because they know the response that’s coming.  Slowly, from the mountain of growing paperwork on my desk, does my fuzzy head come up.  As my eyes are trying to adjust to the figure in the door, I slowly utter,  “Uh, whu?” and roll my eyes.  Then, with more vigor and passion, I bark out a strong “No!”

My salvation: it’s a Sunday.  I love Sundays.  This one especially because it’s raining and chilly and I have the day to do with what I want.  And one thing I want to do on this glorious day is bake.

Craving peanut butter cookies, I cranked out a batch of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies – of which a dozen were packaged off to Texas for Darrell.


1 stick butter
1 C peanut butter
3/4 C white sugar*
1/2 C brown sugar
1 egg
1 t vanilla
1 T milk
1 1/4 C flour
3/4 t baking soda
1/2 t baking powder
1/4 t salt
1 1/2 C chocolate chips
350 Oven.
Blend well in large bowl first set of ingredients. In smaller bowl combine the 2 set of ingredients, add to first set and mix well.  Stir in chocolate chips.  Form into 1 1/2 balls and then flatten slightly with hand.  Bake 10-12 min.  Don’t let them get too brown.  You want them somewhat undercooked feeling.  They’ll firm up as the cool.
*reduce the sugar by 1/4 C if you use a sweetened peanut butter.  We use 100% peanut butter, no sugar added, and these turn out fairly sweet.

After my baking session the real rain hit. 

It was coming in sheets and with a strong wind that made me wonder if we were going to have some trees come down in our neighborhood.  I soon realized that our gutters were spilling over the sides – which wouldn’t really bother me so much if it didn’t result in a flooded garage.  Blargh.  I wrestled up a ladder and proceeded to clean the gutters, with my bare hands and in the continuing downpour (sporting my fuzzy red slippers, black workout pants and a white T, no less!  A girl’s got a reputation to uphold!)

I now love my husband ten times more than ever!  He’s the gutter guy.  So, I got a little wet? And there’s some unidentifiable black gunk under my nails that has me a little concerned?  Big deal?  At least I was able to work off that two-cookies-worth of dough that I accidentally ate….  Oh, then there was the spoon and mixing paddle that I had to lick clean… and the chocolate chip sampling.


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A ghetto crime scene

Our house was broken into last night.  It happened after dinner, at about 9:00 pm.

Darrell was all packed for his trip to Texas and we were left counting the hours before his departure at the unGodly hour of 4:00 this morning.  As is usual with Darrell’s military departures, we were faced with a minor household “issue” in the days leading up to his trip.  This time, the garage door was opening and closing at random times, day and night.  Regardless, we had decided earlier in the day to eat out at one of our favorite burger places in Portland.  So, on our way out to dinner, while Darrell and Norah waited in the car in the driveway, I unplugged the garage door mechanism and then left the house through the front door.  Unbeknownst to Darrell or me, neither one of us brought along a house key!!

And let me tell you, there is nothing more frustrating than not being able to get into your own home!  After testing all doors and windows, we weighed the options:  locksmith + time + ultra early wake-up + Norah without a coat (Mommy guilt moment.  In my defense, I was not aware of this until we were miles from home) v. break a window.  Breaking the window won by a landslide and surprisingly, in hindsight, pretty quickly after a few of my unsuccessful attempts to force my way in. 

I first straddled some Hydrangea bushes, one leg precariously poised on a garden hose caddy, in an attempt to reach and dislodge a window from its track; tried to wedge my Burgerville points card in the front door to jimmy the lock (I swear this worked in a Law and Order episode I once watched, but the choice of card may have been a key factor); and a unsuccesful attempt involving the oversized spatula from the gas grill accessory box.  Darrell kind of patiently waited, watching my attempts and, of course, knowing that they would all fail. 

Finally, wielding an axe, he broke a window.  The sound was incredible.  Given the recent crime spree in our neighborhood, he suggested I give the neighbors next door a heads up.  I quickly imagined that interaction: Norah shivering at my side with the “why wouldn’t you call a locksmith” question hanging in the air between the neighbor and me.  I didn’t budge. 

After we were all cleaned up, Darrell was preparing to cover the gaping hole in the glass.  I referred him to my painting supplies, suggesting that he use a piece of my thick, plastic tarp.  I knew that the plastic would work well to keep out the cold until I could get the glass repaired.  Heck – three-weeks durable, baby!!  Oh, how my husband knows me…  ignoring my suggestion, he returned to the scene of the crime, wielding packing tape and a plastic Albertson’s bag, “Because I know you are going to call the glass company right away to get this repaired.”  Damn.

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I started this post over a week ago and due to family illness, a birthday, and a blizzard that crippled the region, I was forced to set aside blogging and sewing.


Norah had to stay home from school for a few days because she came down with a gastrointestinal virus – AGAIN.  This is the second occurence of this vile illness that we have experienced in the span of two weeks.  Apparently, parents are sending their kids back to school too soon.  The problem is so bad that the school nurse sent email instructions on proper hand washing, hygiene and guidelines for returning kids to school after an illness.

While cruising the internet for color pages to print for Norah [yes, I am a brilliant and perfect parent who never lets her child consume simple sugars or watch television], I came across an ad for dishwasher detergent with a link that promised to provide techniques for proper dishwasher loading.  Well, WHOA!  Hold.The.Phone. [There are some who believe that my dishwasher-loading-skills are sub par.]  So, what a treat to stumble upon these instructions, and better yet, they included: *wait… for… it…* . . . an illustrated diagram! I was beginning to feel things were really turning around for me. 

The instructions were very detailed yet succinct; laying out each step so that should you fall off the face of the earth and lose all domestic capacity, you could jump right back into dishwasher loading and not skip a beat.  They were also very positive and reassuring, never using “you” statements to point out your loading flaws, which I found very comforting.  Instead, they soothingly relayed what damage your mislaid dishes could pose to the energy efficiency of the dishwasher, your priceless Tupperware or, God forbid, THE environment.  The instructions even went as far as to advise not to put forks and knives handle-down in the utensil basket, in order to prevent any unintended impalement during loading.  Good to know.  Not long after I’d settled into the soothing guidance of each step, I soon realized that these are the exact procedures I use for loading!  Okay, well, most of them.

I was speaking to a client on the telephone the other day and she kept telling me: “Keep it simplestupid.  Just keep it simplestupid.”  She wasn’t calling me stupid [which is what I keep telling myself], but providing instruction regarding the work she requested.  It took every bit of restraint for me not to remind her that she was requesting this from a law firm.

Gotta go – time to take Norah’s temperature and heat up some canned soup.  If I have time, I’m going to unload the dishwasher!

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