Stupid Human Tricks

So, Dave had been laying down backing tracks into the wee hours last night. Big doings with St. Paddy's day coming up. He's playing all weekend long and all day and night on Wednesday. Busy boy, our rock and roll realtor. Anyway, he left his bass out. Back in the day, he was a bass player with The Hannibals. Very cool band. Jack, who is more accustomed to seeing his dad play acoustic guitar, thought the bass was right fascinating. Dave starts playing a little and Jack asks if he would PLEASE teach him to play. Dave says sure, continues to mess around a little and then proceeds to put the bass behind his head and play. Jack just stood their slack-jawed and then says, "Dad......you're my  hero". We got into the car to go to school and he said, "Mom, Dad is the greatest man who ever lived". And THAT is pretty cool thing for a boy to say about his dad. Who knew that's all it took? I better learn to do something impressive and fast. 

Morning (Mis) Adventure

Hmmm. This day is starting off much like yesterday. While I have not spilled shit all over myself two minutes before I was supposed to be at a meeting and have not yet been clocked with the car door nor backed into someone in a parking lot the day has not yet been without incident. And it's just getting started. Grady, who at 8 months old weighs around 60 lbs, has had a tether in our backyard since we got him. We didn't want to do the invisible fence thing when he was really little and a fence would look ridiculous in our yard. I don't even think our covenants would allow for it even if we wanted to put one in. Now is the time for the invisible fencing BUT the ground is still frozen. I was on the computer (imagine that!) and I hear Dave let Grady out. I went upstairs only to see something amiss......Grady halfway up the mountain dragging his tether and the thing you screw into the ground. So, I'm in my jammies and shoeless trying to remain calm because I knew if I started panicking he'd think it was a game. He's running around after deer, I'm running around after him, saw my opportunity and lunged at what was left of the anchor thing. Got him. He had snapped the thing completely in half. God. Dragged his ass back in. It was like reeling in very large fish. With gnashing teeth. Hello, Invisible Fencing dude? I'd like to place an order. Like now. Bring a blow torch. You'll need it. Oh, and something for the frozen ground too. 

WTF's For Dinner?

Yikes. Nutty day. Meetings. NO, not AA smart asses. Pilates, grocery store, minor fender bender in grocery store parking lot, procure samples for design job, chase dog with razor in his mouth around the house only to discover he has in all likelihood swallowed the blade, blah, blah, blah. Another day in Mollieville, where the freak flag flies daily. So I have JUST NOW been able to sit at my damn computer. Thank you for all of the lovely emails expressing concern for my personal well being. I'm cool. All's well. Stop turning over cars and rioting in the streets. Every little thing is gonna be alright. Well, it's probably not but it's a good sentiment. Anyway, here is this week's installment of WTF's For Dinner?! And it's a good one. Veggie, even! 

Em's Mac and Cheese

6 T butter

1/2 lb elbow macaroni

6 T flour

3 c whole milk

1 t salt

1/4 t black pepper

Pinch cayenne (but not too hard!)

2 1/2 c grated cheddar

1/2 c fine bread crumbs

1 t Emeril's Essence 

Preheat oven to 350 F. Butter 2-quart baking dish with 1 T of the butter and set aside. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the macaroni and cook until al dente, about 10 minutes (longer if you live way up here on top of a damn hill like me). Drain and rinse. Melt the remaining 5 T butter in a heavy 3 quart saucepan over medium heat for 3-4 minutes, being careful not to let the flour brown. Using a whisk, add the milk in a steady stream and cook, whisking constantly until thick and smooth, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat. Add the salt, pepper, cayenne and 2 cups of the cheese and stir well. Add the noodles and stir well (yes, again). Pour into the prepared dish. In a mixing bowl, combine the remaining 1/2 cup of cheese with the bread crumbs and Essence. Sprinkle evenly over the macaroni and bake until golden brown and bubbly, about 25 minutes.

Goes pretty damn well with a spinach salad. This one is a keeper! Enjoy.....I have to head back out. More work. Jobs really ARE for squares. Dang. 

Promises, Promises........

First of all, be very wary of what you promise a kid during cocktail hour. I told Jack and Libby that I saw these Club Penguin stuffed animals while out and about and that OF COURSE I would get them each one of the f'ers. I had taken a short-cut through Sears and this is where they caught my eye. WHY I had to mention this fact to Thing One and Thing Two I have NO CLUE. It was apparently the waistline enhancing wine doing the talking. But of course, every day this week, it's been "MOM, DID YOU GET THE PENGUINS?" Um, no? So today I had to run to Target because I was panicking about the recent development of what is known in my family as a "gozzler" aka "turkey neck". It may not be detectable to the naked eye, but it's there my friends.......it's there. Anyway, I figured Target may have something for the formerly fabulous sagging neck. I was in a hurry as it's my day to drive Jack and his buddy to lacrosse practice but I had enough time to not just go to Target but also pop into Sears for the damn penguins. Or so I thought. I run in, grab the things and look around for a place to check out. Oh, there's one! With a huge line. WHO IN THE HELL SHOPS AT SEARS? Apparently I do. And so do these 15 other people in line at the one open register. And, the WORLD'S CHATTIEST OLD LADY is at the helm. Look, I appreciate an effort at being nice but the best time to make small talk is NOT when you have a huge line of people. She seemed to really want to make each customer feel "special". I don't want to feel special. I want to pay and get the hell out of there. I leave it to the people in my life I actually KNOW to make me feel special. I seriously thought I was going to kill myself by the time it was my turn to pay. And then she starts chatting ME up. It's like, "Look. It's bad enough that I'm at Sears because I promised my son and his best friend these stupid ass penguins after having a couple (okay, SEVERAL) glasses of wine. I really just want to leave. I know you don't really understand this whole Club Penguin thing, 'cause you just told me that in great detail. What I really want is my receipt, the flightless birds and what's left of my dignity". I DID finally make it out of there, having fulfilled one alcohol fueled promise. I'm sure it won't be the last. Stupid wine. 

Oh, Grady......

Those of you that have been following along are aware that my black Lab, Grady, is a bit of menace. The term, "Marley" has come up more than once although I don't know as Marley ever pooped out an intact crew sock. If he did, it sure wasn't in the movie. Oh boy......Marley gets chased around with a diamond ring and runs along the side of a car. Big freakin' deal. You have NO IDEA. This dog would make Marley roll over in his grave. But that's been established. Grady sucks. But get THIS one: he's been going to the dog park. This was highly recommended as a device to tire him out and thusly calm him down. Well, it's worked. He's a hell of alot more chill after a morning at the dog park. He does a little running around, but for the most part, Grady is apparently the park bitch. Crazy ass Grady who eats beer cans as well as his own poop at home, goes to the dog park and gets his ass humped. Although the humping is not strictly limited to his ass. His head gets humped as well. It seems that he is a complete and utter wimp when he leaves the confines of our home. He'll terrorize us and our friends and family but when presented with another dog, he rolls over. I knew that this was going on, so much so that I wish him a "Happy Humping" as he leaves in the morning. What I was not prepared for was this: Dave comes home and says, "Well, your dog (please note he's "my" dog when he does something terrible, which is 95% of the time) suffered the ultimate in humiliation today.......he not only got humped by a female, he got humped by a female TRIPOD". Oh God. Grady, Grady, Grady........what are we going to do with you? Dog for sale. A TRIPOD? Seriously?

ModerWHAT?

Okay, the big talk yesterday in my Pilates class was this news that up to three glasses of wine a day actually HELPS women to lose weight. And there was great rejoicing! I had heard this reported the night before and Dave immediately shot a hole in the theory. He felt that generally, wine drinkers are socio-economically advantaged and that therefore these female wine guzzlers were more likely to not work and would have more time to work out.  Good point, Killjoy. I prefer to take it at face value. Clearly these people are scientists and not armchair conspiracy theorists thwarting the happy news of the day. Wine is good for you. And in my mind, if three glasses are good, six must be freakin' FANTASTIC, right? See, that's my problem. Right there. I do not understand the meaning of moderation. In ANYTHING. This goes for good things as well as bad things. I exercise. ALOT. Obsessively some might say. "Some" may F-off. I like it. It makes me feel good. As does drinking wine. I think having the ability to be moderate is a gift. I just don't happen to be in possession of it. When they were handing out both filters and moderation chips, I was probably bellied up to the celestial bar. I'm sure I was standing there with my dad, because he is not exactly the picture of moderation either. He goes big or stays home. With most things. So I know where I get this from. I'm the little apple under the tree. Right there. Not far. And like I said, this is not always a bad thing. If I'm going to do something, I'm going to do it up. I'm going to throw the best party, be the most kick-ass mom, and the friend who's there when things get tough.  I'm also the one with the lampshade on her head at said awesome party, the mom drinks and swears and writes horrible things on her blog, and the friend that makes you scratch your head in wonderment. "She did WHAT?" I guess the bottom line is that if I was a moderate person, I wouldn't be me. Whether that's good or bad, I'm not quite sure but I have to be able to live with who I am. And who I am is a person who is quite sure that wine drinking is awesome. I plan to drink, drink, drink my way to a firmer me. Yay, modern science!  

Super Euro Mutt

I send out weekly emails pimping my husband's gigs and just finished this weeks version. It's kinda fun. My gig emails and facebook ramblings mated and Deep Thoughts was born. Since it's March and nearly St. Paddy's day he's extra crazy busy. You know, 'cause he's an Albanian/Sicilian realtor that plays Irish music? Hey man.....his son is 25% Irish, although I would recommend against informing Jack of that percentage as he may hit you. With an old shillelagh. Boy likes being Irish. He claims that the reason his hair is so dark is that he's "Black Irish". Err.....no you're not. So Jack is 25% Sicilian, 25% Albanian, 25% Irish and 25% Scottish. Dave attempts to annoy me with claims that there is other shit thrown into my gene pool but whatever. He likes to say "YOU'RE WELSH AND FRENCH TOO". Like that makes up for his Albanianism. Whatever. It's not a competition. As far as he knows. So some Welsh and French dude made his way over to Ireland or Scotland and succumbed to my female relatives charms. Shocking. I think not. So if it makes Dave feel better to draw attention to the 2% of alternate Northern European heritage coursing through my veins, so be it. He's still Albanian. Goat boy. Which brings me to my point. Stereotypes. This time of year brings to mind the drunken Irish person. Which of course is absolutely, 100% TRUE. Guilty as charged. BUT, my heritage results in something known in my family as the "double bogue". Both sides of me LOVE to drink but my Scottish side likes her a bargain. So I'm always on the make for a free drink. Works too. Oh but it's not limited to libations. In this past week, I not only bought a pair of pants for $4.97 (Gap....originally $54.50) but TWO pairs of pajama bottoms for, and I have witnesses, .47. That's right forty-seven CENTS. This caused the Scottish side of me to be so excited that the Irish side of me decided to celebrate. And therein lies the rub.