A stuffing crisis and explosive poo - Thanksgiving 2012

I always aim to be funny on this blog, but let me just start out on a serious note by saying that I had an absolutely *fantastic* Thanksgiving weekend. I loved being home with Mike and the kids and it was just sublime. I feel very blessed that Mike and I both have such flexible jobs in that we get to be home so much with each other as a family.

Now I'm back at work and it's Cyber Monday and I'm shocked, SHOCKED I tell you to say that I don't know if I'll be doing my traditional sale yarn order. Could it be, dear reader, that I ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH YARN?! Let's be honest, I have a lot of yarn. But I can never resist sale yarn. However, what I knit most with is worsted weight wool and cotton, and nothing that I really wanted over at Knit Picks is on sale. There is a bunch of cotton on sale, but it's winter, and I really wanted some wool. It seems like mostly sport weight is on sale and I just rarely use sport weight. I mean, I can't believe this.

It's good, though. I bought a bunch of yarn during their summer sale and I can use the money toward Christmas gifts. Now that Advent starts this coming weekend, I'll talk a lot this week about the Christmas season, I have a lot on my mind about that lately. And I've missed you all! So expect lots of lengthy posts this week. :)

Ok, so a recap of this past weekend and the inevitable hilarity that ensues on holidays in my household. We were hosting Thanksgiving this year, and in my eagerness I decided to make stuffing from scratch, which I've never done before. I'm a big fan of Stove Top. But I wanted to feel all pioneer woman and since Mike mostly takes care of our turkey, I decided to contribute the stuffing.

I scoured the Internet for the perfect recipe. There are lots of delicious varieties out there, but I just wanted plain white bread stuffing. Turns out it's not so hard to make. I feel confident.

Wednesday night I saute up a big pan full of celery and onions. Smells delicious already. I break up the bread. I add everything into a big stock pot and pour in the required amount of chicken broth and add the poultry seasoning. Looks good. It seems a bit dry, so I add in some more butter (let's just agree - butter makes EVERYTHING BETTER) and a hair more broth. I stir and taste test. Oh yum. It's delicious. I feel that my existence as a woman is validated.

Except...hum. What started out as a full pot of stuffing had definitely shrunk in the moistening process. I spooned it around a bit, hoping for some loaves and fishes-type multiplication. Nope. I put it in a bowl to stash in the refrigerator overnight so that we could stuff the turkey first thing in the morning. The quantity was definitely less than what I expected based on the gigantic loaf of white bread that I used.

I panic. It's nearly Anne's bedtime and both kids are jammied up. I rush over to Mike.

"I think we need to run to the store."

"Why?"

"There isn't enough stuffing!"

THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.

I show him the bowl. He gets that look that he gets when he's going to try and talk me down from the ledge about something.

"I think it's fine, Sweetie. Plus, if you want to make more, can't we just run to the store tomorrow morning?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

*frustrated pause*

"Because I want to do it right now!"

I don't make much sense when I'm that much on a mission. I was in stuffing mode, and I wanted my mind set at ease about having enough. But in the end I knew that he was right.

I slept on the "stuffing situation," and in the end, decided not to make anymore. We had plenty. Not as much for leftovers as I would have liked (is there anything better than Thanksgiving leftovers?) but we had more than enough.

Crisis averted.

Thanksgiving was a huge success. The kids loved the Macy's parade, and we all enjoyed the dog show that followed. ("woof woof!") Dinner was enjoyed by everyone, and wine was consumed by all.

Black Friday dawned, and I stayed in and safely away from the stores. I was worried that the kids would go stir crazy, but the day was smashing. We ended up running to the public library where Anne played in the toy kitchen they have set up there and Henry got a few videos and books. That night, Henry was having a sleepover at the grandparents, and so it was just Mike, Anne and I. The house felt *quiet* only having 1 kid in it!

We put Anne to bed. We basked in our quiet time. Then we went to bed.

Around 2:30 am I hear Anne. I roll over figuring she will go back to sleep. She does not.

Sometime thereafter I feel Mike nudge me. I grunt at him.

"Should I go get Anne?"

"No, I'll do it."

I stumble out of the bedroom, martyr-like essence following in my wake. I peek through her keyhole (this is a sweet feature of having an older house). If she's laying down, chances are she'll fall back to sleep. She's standing up.

I sigh and open the door. Immediately, rancid air meets my nostrils.

"Hi Mama. Uh oh!" *points to diaper*

Oh, no problem. A poo diaper woke her. I go to fetch her. I spy a pool of brown liquid covering her crib sheet.

Uh oh, indeed.

I turn on the lights and assess the damage. I don't think I've ever seen so much poo in one sitting in all my years of diaper changing, and that's saying a lot. I grab her stuffed puppy dog. HE'S WET. He's immediately relegated to the laundry. I lift Anne out of the crib and strip the sheet off. I'm attempting to peel her sleeper off when Mike exits our bedroom down the hall.

"Oh wow." The smell has now permeated the entire upstairs.

Mike comes to investigate.

"Do you think we should give her a bath?"

"She needs a complete hose down."

Mike runs the bath and disinfects her mattress. The sleeper is so bad that I throw it in the garbage. I had to actually SCRUB DOWN THE OUTSIDE OF THE DIAPER PAIL due to debris while Mike bathed her.

After her bath, I get her in a fresh sleeper while Mike starts a load of laundry and throws the trash. We go downstairs to watch some tv in the darkened living room to let the upstairs...air out a bit.

I find a Friends marathon on Nick-at-Nite. And ugh! The commercials were depressing. The stores were advertising continuing sales for all "Black Friday weekend!"

It's a whole weekend now? Apparently so. The whole thing strikes me as so desperate, it makes me a little sad.

Anne fell back to sleep pretty quick. Somehow, the scent of poo lingered on my nostrils and I could not for the life of me uncover the source. I carried her up to her room and had to wrinkle my nose a bit in her room but most of the smell had dissipated.

Anne's statement on Black Friday? Not sure, but that was EPIC. Honestly though, I enjoyed that particular middle of the night session. Lots of sweet cuddle time and she slept the rest of the night after that. Except for the fact that the next morning I COULD STILL SMELL POO.

Going to take some time to really get rid of this one. But the rest of the weekend was great. I'm trying to do my Christmas shopping and stay within our budget, and I crocheted 12 gift dishcloths this weekend. Why? BECAUSE I'M INSANE. And I have all this yarn, so I should use it up, right?

More Christmas and Advent talk to come this week!

For the first time in months, last night I...

...used my CROCK POT!

I know that most normal people wouldn't get this excited about using a slow cooker, but what can I say? I love using my crock pot. And I only use it when the weather is cold. It's just not summery to use the crock pot. This is partially because we don't have air conditioning in our kitchen and thus it heats up with just the slightest provocation in the summer. But it just screams "Fall!" to me to use the crock pot. So I busted it out for the first time last night.

I put some chicken in there with carrots in a cream of chicken soup mixture. SO good. The meat gets so tender and the vegetables so soft. Boil some water for pasta, and voila! Instant meal.

I love coming home and smelling the dinner cooking. I love how easy it is to have everything ready before I even leave work. Easy, easy, easy.

And the weather is finally cooperating. We're actually *above* average this month for rainfall. The grass is green again! It feels damp and chilly. Love it.

My new winter hat is nearly done. I'm on the final round of the decreased entrelac rectangles. Query: does anybody know how to graft live stitches onto a selvedge edge? My YouTube searching is only bringing up Kitchener stitch results, which isn't what I need. I think I can finagle something loosely based on Kitchener, but I don't know what the heck I'm doing, so looking for a little guidance. After this, I embark on a pair of mittens, plus start gift knitting!

Mike and I are set to watch a movie tonight after the kids go to bed, and I want to also work on my falling leaf sock. This sock is quite an investment. I've already been working on it for a month, and this is only sock #1. I think I feel a case of Second Sock Syndrome coming on. I don't think socks should take this long, but maybe it's just me and my slow chart reading skills. These better be extra cozy when I'm done with them.

What does it say about my skills in the kitchen if I *&%#ed up the homemade play dough?

I'm not a bad cook, I'm really not. My family likes what I make. Well, Mike does. Baking is a bit more challenging, but I do what I can. I think that I hold my own. And see? I'm not defensive about it at all.

So the other day, Henry brings home a recipe from school for homemade play dough and says that we have to make some. I eyed the recipe warily, because making play dough seemed kinda closer to "baking" than to "cooking" and that's always a bad line to cross for me. The recipe assured me that it was "easy" and "only took a few minutes." I scanned the ingredients, noting that we had everything except for Cream of Tartar, which I borrowed from my mother-in-law. Last night was the big night: we delved in, Henry excitedly by my side.

Cup of flour, check. Cup of water with food coloring of choice, check (after Henry made a mess picking out his color). Some cooking oil, check. The Cream of Tartar, check. Cup of salt. Wait, WHAT? A *cup* of salt? Holy cannolis. I mean, I know that play dough is salty. NOBODY JUDGE ME. Who hasn't eaten play dough? Anybody?

Anybody?

I know you're lying.

Anyway, moving on. I was a bit shocked at the sheer volume of salt that was called for. But I was in a pinch (no pun intended) now because I had already waited a few days to secure the Cream of Tartar, and I didn't look at the salt content before. Now, I had to send it in the next day and I certainly didn't feel like running to the store for salt. With the optimism of somebody multiplying loaves and fishes, I emptied our salt container into my measuring cup.

Not even close.

In desperation, I re-opened the spice cupboard. Ah ha! A can of sea salt. Will sea salt hurt the play dough? I really don't care. I dumped it in, and got a full cup. In it went.

The ingredients were together, so we stirred it over a low flame, just like the directions said. A dough-like substance started to form, and I released a breath of relief.

Until I took it out of the pot and put it on the counter.

It just felt...weird. Henry wrinkled his nose at it.

"I think you put too much salt in it, Mommy."

"NO I DIDN'T!!! I mean, I just followed the directions, Sweetheart. What are you doing with the play dough anyway? Making a model or village of some kind?"

Henry gives me a look like I must be completely daft.

"No, Mommy. We're *playing* with it."

Oh. Of course.

I left the dough on the counter hoping that the cooling process would make it more play worthy. And yes, I did taste it.

It tasted like play dough. So there.

30 minutes later, I wander back over. It still seems too squishy and soft to me. Kinda wet. Mike comes over to investigate.

"Honey, does this feel like play dough to you?" *anxious*

"Yeah, it kinda does."

So reassuring.

"It has a lot of salt in it. But play doh is really salty."

"I wouldn't know. I've never eaten play dough."

Well, la de da.

"I'm sure it's going to be fine, Sweetie. Don't obsess over it."

Easy for him to say. The teacher won't be shaking her head over *his* inept play-dough-making abilities tomorrow morning. Clearly, I'm a failure as a mother.

The anxiety overtook me. I popped the play dough back into the pot to apply more heat, hoping this would help the texture. It worked, at least a little bit. The dough became less wet and firmer. So I plopped it onto the counter again.

30 minutes later, the outer layer was a bit crusty, and upon prying some of it off, the middle still broke apart easily and didn't seem clay-like enough. Sigh. I put it into a giant Ziploc bag and hoped for the best.

This morning, Henry went to school with his mint green play dough tucked into his backpack. I hope it's ok, and that he's not ridiculed for his freakish play dough. I'm just so bad at this stuff. I mean, I knit and crochet. I'm supposed to be CRAFTY. But I'm not. My skill set is very specific. Which is a nice way of saying that I suck at most crafts and all baking that doesn't involve Betty Crocker or the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

And it's brownies, even Betty can't help me.

Creativity overload

I'm not yet able to get too much done on the future nursery (next month, during Mike's spring break, we have plans for painting, carpeting, and furniture moving) so instead of using my nesting energies in that direction, I've turned to knitting and baking. This has been a very harmonious obsessive compulsion if you ask me.

On Saturday, I decided to bake a cake. Now, those of you faithful readers that have read my blog for any length of time know that my baking abilities border on scandalous. I simply don't have the Betty Crocker gene. But lately, I've been trying more. And my precious Henry spotted a particular cake in one of my cookbooks and specifically asked that I make it. I mean, how can I resist that?

It was a nice simple recipe from a cookbook that touts itself as being for the "busy family." The recipes are all designed to be crafted in approximately 30 minutes, great for weeknights. This cake was simply a white cake mix combined with crumbled Oreo cookies, and frosted with a thick homemade cream cheese frosting. I was a little afraid of the frosting, but I figured that if I screwed it up, I could just go buy a can. Sad, so sad.

But at any rate, we embarked on the cake, and as always I immediately got tense. Baking just brings out the worst in me, but I'm trying to fight these demons, I swear. Mixing the cake was pretty easy, and in it went into my bundt pan. I was a little anxious when it didn't appear to be fully done when the allotted time elapsed, but I refused to panic. Back in it went (several times), until finally, my toothpick came out clean.

Then came the frosting. I was brave I tell you, very brave. I popped the cream cheese and milk into the mixer. Hank swirled it about. The texture seemed odd, but that's par for the course with my baking. I slowly added in the heavy cream and confectioner's sugar. Away it spun. And spun. And spun. And once again, my product looked like soup. Delicious, calorie-laden soup, mind you, but soup all the same. The directions said to mix until the soup became "stiff peaks." I won't even tell you what went through my head when I read that.

Dejectedly, I let Hank monitor the soup while I washed out my measuring cups. When I returned to the table, I swear it, a miracle worthy of a saint canonization had taken place. My frosting was FLUFFY and PEAKY. One would have thought I had just turned water into wine based on my reaction.

*angels sing*

"LOOK! It's FROSTING!!"

I immediately tasted some, and it tasted GOOD! Rather than, I don't know, ODD. I let it spin a bit longer until the peaks became their stiffest, and turned the mixer off to admire my work. I slapped it on the cooled cake, and voila! My masterpiece:


I am super, duper proud of it. Hank loves it, and we all snacked on it during the super bowl. Life is good.

In my other efforts, I've been making baby hats like the apocalypse is approaching and every baby I know is relying on ME for their head warmth. I've been very productive on those. I'm about to start a show stopper baby blanket, more on that later. But once again, I've been bitten by spring fever.

Every February/March, I start to become obsessed with spring and Easter-themed crafts. I mean, I just can't get enough. I'm currently making a shawl in a yarn called "first spring ombre" and just printed off patterns for crocheted Easter eggs and knitted Easter dishcloths. What on earth does anyone need with a bunny adorned dishcloth? I have no notion, but if I know you, you're getting one this Easter. Or would you prefer a lamb? Or an chick? Because I'm going to make those too. I LOVE them, and this seems like a great way to use some of the cotton yarn I have in my stash that I swear on my life is reproducing in my little storage totes. I've got all the spring colors! Variegated too!

March is National Craft Month, so watch out! Lots of coupons at JoAnn's = very dangerous situation for the Catholic Librarian...

Weekend cooking and other obsessive activities

This weekend, I did a lot of cooking. On Saturday, I made a pot of Cheddar Broccoli soup, which turned out awesome. Mike and I loved it. Hank couldn't get past the broccoli (sigh) but for the two of us, it was great. Yesterday, we went over some friends' house for dinner (Halftime Chili, wonderful for a winter day), but after we returned home, I was hard at work in the kitchen, making sauce and meatballs that we could feast on today.

Mike wanders in, and I'm frantically kneading ground beef and other assorted meatball fixins'.

Mike: "Oh wow. You're nesting, aren't you?"

Yes, I totally am. Not that I plan on saving any of this food for when the baby comes in, you know, MAY. But when I nest, I just really want to do things around the house and home. I also weeded Hank's toy collection in preparation for Christmas.

Someday soon I need to tackle our small storage area. All of the baby stuff and clothes are in the *back*, so this will be a major late winter/early spring nesting project. This time though, I have to admit, our attitude toward the new addition is a lot more practical and cavalier.

Adorable baby bedding? Zilch. All you need is about 3-4 solidly constructed crib sheets. Since, you know, the baby will spit up on them, pee on them, and have poo explosions (coined term: "poosplosions") on them pretty frequently. They get washed a lot.

Nursery? Don't need one. :) The baby will be sleeping with us for a couple of months. We'll need a changing table, and I would like the crib set up for naps. But we're using that room for an office right now, and don't plan to paint it and get it organized until late spring.

Dainty baby clothes? We'll use whatever is left over from Hank, even if the baby is a girl. She can wear blue!

Multitude of baby equipment? Using a weeded down version of what we have left from Hank. Pack n' play? Only for sleep when traveling. Will the baby actually play in there? HA! That would be no. We tried putting Hank in there once and he acted like we had just put him in a cell and thrown away the key. My mom claims that we used to play in our play pens "for hours" but I think she's suffering from yet another instance of the diagnosed syndrome "Grandmother Brain." I am doubting that this actually happened the way she's remembering it. :)

Swing? This is a necessity, and the only piece of baby equipment I'll consent to set up in our downstairs living space. Once the baby outgrows the swing, I'll swap it out for the Exersaucer, because that thing is also a life saver. I was dubious when I first had Hank, but I was wrong. You want to take a shower and the baby is awake with no other hands to hold baby? Swing/Exersaucer. For 10-15 minute increments, these things saved my bacon.

Bouncy seat? Nah. High chair, yes we have one. I do love it, despite it's sheer ugliness. Even for small babies, if you need your hands freed up in the kitchen, ours reclines, and baby can lounge in there while you cook. It's nice, because you can wheel it around with you if need be.

I am going to try a sling this time, and we do need a new diaper pail. We also need a new stroller, since ours from Hank is completely worn out. Definitely got our moneys worth out of that guy.

I really feel like I don't need to prepare that much. But this is now. April will be another story.

Thanksgiving weekend recap, and we wait in joyful hope...

Well, I'm back. :) And I had a *wonderful* holiday, and a fabulous vacation. It was so, so nice to be away from work and with family.

So. A recap. I did lots of cooking and baking with my mother-in-law, and I didn't cause anything to explode. This is good. Mike handled the turkey, as he does every year, and it turned out very well. It's amazing what a little olive oil and rubbed sage will do. I always handle the broccoli casserole, a family favorite. We also made fresh stuffing, green beans amandine, and mashed potatoes with gravy. My mother-in-law showed me how to make pie crust, and I may be brave and bold and attempt an apple pie for Christmas. I say this with much trepidation, because I am a terrible baker. I mean, TERRIBLE. I'm a decent cook, but baking eludes me. I think that ideal baking consistency requires much more precision than cooking, and most of the time I'm just not that exact. And a liquidy cream cheese ball just never did any good for anybody.

This weekend we made a pie plus cutout cookies. My mother-in-law bought me a stand-up electric mixer as an early Christmas present, and already it has proved indispensable. She praised me as being a very good dough roller outer, so maybe there's hope for me yet.

Friday, we went shopping. Yes, shopping. I know, I know, it was Black Friday. But as you know, I do enjoy a Black Friday tradition. I refuse to get up at 4 am to do anything except nurse a baby. However, I'll get up at a normal time on Black Friday, battle plan in hand, and wait in a few long lines to get a handful of non-electronics items. People get stampeded for electronics items, and well, I'm just not willing to do that. This year, I thought maybe I'd get Hank a board game or two real cheap, and I had a kitchen goods item in mind for my mom. My mom had also asked me to pick up a Perfect Pillow for her (marked down from $80 to $19. 97) so I was set to go. My mother-in-law generously wanted to get me some warm nightgowns, since I'd mentioned that my usual flannel pant and top sets were getting a bit uncomfortable now that Baby CL is growing bigger. So off we went, bound for Bon Ton at 9 am.

My local Bon Ton is divided into 2 separate stores, the regular department store and a home store. We started out in the regular store, which is a good thing, otherwise we may have lost our nerve. My MIL got a nice purse for herself, I got Chutes & Ladders for Hank for $4.97, and we found a great selection of long nightgowns. I found some really cute ones. They're a bit matronly, no doubt about it, but SO COMFORTABLE. I'm totally in love with them. I got 2 long-sleeved cotton ones that extend to my ankles, and 3 micro-fleece that are a bit shorter (they go to about my upper calves), but so cozy and warm you can hardly stand it. And the funny thing is, Mike thinks they are the most attractive sleepwear that I now own. Everytime I don one of the floor length cotten numbers, I get happy raised eyebrows, which I find amusing since these things are the complete opposite of Sexy Sadie. Think: Grandma Moses. Anyway, all were 50% off, so we were thrilled. We waited in a line that took about 10-15 minutes to sail through. Life was good.

Off we happily went to deposit the packages in my trunk (Stalking of Us to Our Car, Incident #1) and headed into the home store. Quickly, I grabbed the Perfect Pillow and found the item I wanted for my mom. Marked down from $100 to $39.98, I'll have you know. See? Now you want to go shopping on Black Friday too. We attempt to find the check-out line, and this is the first time we get alarmed. I thought I saw the end of the line, but realized it went all the way to the back of the store. We get to the back of the store, and realized that it snaked off to the right. We go off to the far right corner, and see that it snaked back toward the front. It was ugly. We got in line and hoped for the best. Inevitably, as we waited, bored out of our skulls, we noticed other things that caught our eye that the line crawled past. Oh look, Christmas tablecloths. Oh, a cute snowman decoration for $2.97 (grabbed one of those. He was cute and a door buster, so can you blame me?) I also managed to nab a Pyrex 9x12 pan with accompanying snowflake carrying basket all for $9.97. By time we got up to the cash register, an hour and fifteen minutes had elapsed. That's probably the longest line I've ever stood in.

We limped out to the car (Stalking of Us to Our Car, Incident #2), and then walked over to the nearby grocery store for a few weekend baking supplies. Finally, the person stalking us to our car was actually able to get our spot (Incident #3), and we hustled on to the mall.

The mall is a scary, scary place on Black Friday, my friends. The one we were traveling to is the largest in our area, and quite popular year round. We were going because my mom and my aunt wanted to meet us for lunch there. I knew it would be bad, but I had a plan: Sears. Usually, there is always parking at Sears. I felt confident in my Plan A.

About 30 seconds after our arrival on the grounds, I knew that Plan A was a big, fat failure. There was not a spot to be had anywhere. I drove around stubbornly for about 5 full minutes, figuring that eventually, we would happen upon a small empty spot. I have a Honda Civic, he squeezes nicely. Nothing.

Finally, I got desperate. I started watching people. Are they just arriving or leaving?! Oh LOOK! Someone is pulling out up ahead... Crap. Another car is already waiting. It's very difficult for me to lower myself to following people to their cars, but at this point I realized that I had no choice. Stalking began in earnest, when suddenly:

MIL: "I think those people are loading up their car."

CL" "WHERE?"

MIL: "Yes, they're closing their trunk."

CL: *zooms!*

Within 3 seconds, I had backed up, pulled into the row, and had my blinker on. The universal sign for: "Look elsewhere, Buddy. I've got dibs on this one."

Finally, we pulled in. We had a long walk to the restaurant area, but I felt vindicated and happy. Although my feet were sore.

And that was my Black Friday. For the rest of the weekend, we baked, relaxed, got and decorated our tree, and ran a few other small errands. It was really, really nice.

Of course, we all know that one of my favorite liturgical seasons began on Sunday: The first Sunday of Advent. I have a Magnificat Advent Companion this year, which I've already put to good use. My brand new Advent wreath is out, with fresh candles, and all feels right with the world. I love Advent. It truly is a time of hope.

Good winter recipe...

This morning, Henry helped me prepare a slow cooker meal for our dinner later. This is a really good, and easy, one, so I thought I'd share :)

Chicken & Wild Rice

Chicken breasts (as many as you want; up to 8)
1 pkg. wild rice, with seasoning
Carrots (I chop up some baby carrots into bite sized pieces)
1 can Cream of Chicken (I prefer Cream of Mushroom) soup
1.5-2 cups water

Mix up the soup, water, rice and seasoning packet in the slow cooker. Place chicken in the mixture and coat. Cook on low 7-8 hours.

Important tip: make sure to spray your slow cooker with Pam or the like. The rice tends to stick to the edges, bad, if you don't do this.

Delicious idea: sprinkle some shredded cheese on top right before serving.

Let it snow...

It's snowing here in Western New York, and call me a freak, but I love it. I feel very cozy right now, albeit a bit cranky. I'm still sick, and I now have a bad stiff neck to add to the fun.

Last night, I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work and picked up the fixins' for chicken noodle soup. I made something else light for dinner, and then went to work creating a gigantic pot of soup that I could consume for the duration of the weekend. I chopped vegetables, and Hank added them to the pot. He's very cute about helping out with such things. The amusing thing is that I accidentally bought an overabundance of carrots recently (I had forgotten about the giant bag I bought to go in the soup I made for Alyssa after she had her baby, and bought another one :) ) and Mike has been teasing me about the sheer volume of carrots we have in our refrigerator. We're not planning to get a village of rabbits through the winter, so what the heck are we going to do with them? he asks.

So I got the carrots out last night to add to the soup, and many, many chopped carrots later...we STILL have enough carrots to feed a small army of our cotton-tailed friends. I innocently added "veggie dip" to the grocery list and hoped Mike wouldn't notice.

The finished soup feels heavenly on my throat, so all is well. I hope my mood improves, though...

Weekend adventures and Monday morning whining

So, it's Monday and I'm back at work, book ordering my little heart out. Seems like lately my days at work are consumed with putting out small fires and not getting to larger projects, particularly professional writing. So, for instance, on my agenda for the day are writing a book review (I'm a regular reviewer for a religious library periodical), and then getting back to the book chapter I'm writing on assessment in credit bearing library courses. Right. So, I get in this morning, and discover the following:

(1) 4 messages waiting in the email account I monitor regarding an online library research workbook that all students here are required to take. 2 of them are from faculty wanting me to check on the status of some students for them. The other 2 are from students that contain (a) no identifying name, and (b) confusing sentence fragments asking about information that is clearly stated in the directions. I answer all of them, part of which involves me dragging our assistant into the mess to help out with some of the student status checking. 45 minutes.

(2) Slew of email in my work email account, 2 of which are from desperate graduate students in my new liaison department, American Studies. (very excited about this American Studies thing, btw). Each starts with something like, "oh thank God you're there! I need help." I answer each of those. 30 minutes.

(3) Several phone calls that needed to be made, and forms that needed to be filled out, regarding our benefits. Made those. 20 minutes.

(4) Field a phone call from my mom in which she frets about the doctor that we share leaving her original practice, which is one of the benefit situations mentioned in (3) above that I had to deal with. 10 minutes.

(5) Deal with a handful of questions from people that stop by my office. Go through a pile of damaged books and euthanize most of them. 30 minutes.

(6) Find a forgotten, thick printout from Choice Reviews Online of new books in the subject areas that I collect in. I grab it, and continue my process of selecting and ordering. Still ongoing.

Sigh. I do what I can.

The weekend was rather mixed. Saturday, I attempted to make a crock pot recipe that involved butternut squash. Anybody ever sliced up a butternut squash before? I hadn't. Being my eager beaver self, I quickly chopped up the 2 called for Granny Smith apples and then approached the squash. It didn't take too well to the little knife I was using on the apples. I had to forge into unchartered territory and get the big scary knife out of the chopping block. I do a reapproach. The squash was still intimidating me quite a bit. Finally, I dove in and sliced it down the middle. Know what I discovered? Butternut squash have seeds inside them. Who knew?

I certainly didn't. So I do my best to scoop out the seeds and chop up the squash. As I'm sure you''re unsurprised to learn, I sliced my thumb open and had to bind it off with the only bandaids we had in the house - it was a choice between Dora and Diego. The wound is in a really bad spot too, right near the top of my thumb. I keep bumping it and making it sore. Not good. And I have *Dora* on my thumb. Anyway, the recipe did turn out pretty good, if I do say so myself. But next time, I think I'm going to ask Mike to chop the squash.

After the squash adventures, I took Henry shopping at Target for new clothes. It was one of those shopping experiences in which half the time Henry was an absolute angel and the rest of the time he drove me absolutely out of my mind. Pretty much a typical outing with a 3 year old.

Later, Mike and I escorted Henry to a pool party in which he cavorted in the kidde pool and used up tons of energy. Then he consumed a cupcake and ice cream and got all worked up again. We finally got him to sleep later and were pretty exhausted ourselves.

Sunday, Mike and I traveled to one of our favorite local destinations, Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario. I got to use my new enhanced drivers license, too, to cross the border. I always get so nervous at the customs booth. I don't know why; we're not smuggling anything or involved in any illegal and/or violent activities. I hardly think the suburban couple carrying back 2 bottles of local wine, fudge and homemade jam is top on their list of people to investigate further. But I always break into a sweat whenever we approach that little booth. Must be because you know that the customs people can do whatever they want to you and you really have no recourse.

Anyway, we had a great time. We ate lunch in one of the vintage hotels there, in a lounge that is decorated like a library. Did you ever? We then proceeded to buy and consume homemade fudge and peanut brittle. We then walked to the lake, to walk off the calories... Saw some adorable black squirrels. Went to the jam store. On the drive back we stopped at a winery and picked up a local cabernet and a late harvest riesling that is to die for. I'm a very happy Catholic Librarian.

Assorted rambling...

Some weeks I'm bursting with blog ideas, and others I feel sapped of all my creative energy. This is one of those weeks. I'm not sure why; certainly, it's been busy, both at work and at home. But I don't think that's what it is. Maybe it's my allergies. I have them every year at this time, disrupting my otherwise favorite time of year. This year they have been particularly vile. Perhaps they're slowly killing off my brain cells. I'm going to go with that theory.

At any rate, I believe Henry has also inherited them; he's been sneezy and runny for weeks. Cute anecedote: while I was warming dinner last night and chatting with Mike in the kitchen, Hank runs in. He opens the refrigerator, carefully takes out his open Spider Man cup of milk (I usually still force sippy cups on him because he's SO bad with spilling) and promptly sneezes right into the open refrigerator. All over every item inside. He slams the refrigerator shut, races off, and I hear...

*Cute sneeze* "Uh ohhhh... Sowy, Mommy. It's just a little milk. Rewy, just a little."

At any rate, tonight will be the first evening all week that Mike, Henry and I will all be home together from dinner to bedtime. Mike teaches Monday and Tuesday evenings this semester, and yesterday I went out for a glass of wine with my best girlfriends. We do that once per month and feel very cute and sophisticated while we do it. So tonight I'm back at home, armed with my crochet needle and my current volume of Amish fiction. Oh, the wild times at the home of the Catholic Librarian.

I'm nearly a full skein into my baby blanket and very pleased with the way it's turning out. The yarn is really pretty. It's a Red Heart baby yarn; the color is a variegated one called "Giggle Print." It's a lovely combination of blue, yellow, green, pink, purple, and white. Alyssa, my neighbor, is having a girl (awww...) but you know how it is when baby's gender is known before birth. Pretty soon, her house will look like a gallon of Pepto Bismol exploded in it. I didn't know Henry's gender before birth, and we were inundated with yellow/green, which was fine with me. But it was nice to eventually get some blue to even everything out. I had my hot little crafty hands on a variegated pink/green baby yarn, but I figured, she's going to acquire a heck of a lot of pink. Why not be the balancer in the mix?

While I crochet on most nights, after Henry is sleeping, Mike and I have been watching the AMC series Mad Men. Anybody else watch that? We're loving it. It's centered around a group of men working at an ad agency in 1960. I *love* the subplots with their wives and the secretaries; basically, all the female characters :) That's where the real drama comes in... We're on the last 4 episodes of Season 1, and we'll be watching 2 of those tonight. We're nerdily excited.

In what could turn into real drama in the Catholic Librarian household, I'm plotting to make applesauce next month. I know, this doesn't sound all that dramatic (read: exciting, or even remotely interesting) but I've never made applesauce before, and while I'm a decent cook, when things do go wrong for me in the kitchen, they go REALLY wrong. Think chopped carrots flying through the air from an open food processor or soupy consistency where there should be puff.

In two weeks we're going apple picking, a new family tradition we started last year. As you know, I love autumn, and nothing says autumn like picking apples right off the tree. Of, if you're Henry, nothing says autumn like playing in hay and riding on a choo choo train into an orchard. We bought a 1/4 peck bag last year, which was the smallest size, and still had to give a ton of apples away, lest they go bad. We like apples, but you can only eat so many fresh, kwim? But if I make some applesauce, or OOHHH! apple pie! We could be good to go. Apple cake? Anybody have any good recipes to share? :)

Thanksgiving craziness...

Busy. No time to post :) How did the girl with batter regularly on her kitchen ceiling get put in charge of Thanksgiving dinner?

Amish Friendship Bread

Well, my first foray into baking the Amish Friendship Bread was last night, and I think that overall it went pretty well. I've monitored the loaf I left in the reference office very carefully (because I'm like that; it's the Type A personality) and more then half of it is eaten. Score :) Took me longer to bake than I anticipated, though. Events transpired as follows:

- While Hank is quietly looking through his books, I gather necessary baking items and make a huge mess on the counter. Because I am how I am, I try to wipe up every little flour spill as it happens. I end up with a layer of white paste covering the counter at all times.

- I begin to mix ingredients, and realize the sheer volume of sugar this recipe calls for. We have this pathetic little sugar can that Mike insists is better than a real bag of sugar. I quickly eliminate the entire contents of the can, but luckily have just enough.

- As I measure out the other "starter kits" that are spawned off every time you make this recipe, I make a giant, giant mess emptying the batter into gallong ziploc bags. Hank is next to me, spreading water everywhere as he plays in the sink. See "white paste" as described above, supra.

- I put the starter kits on top of the gas stove, and one of them molts onto the back display. Apparently there was heat radiation going on that I wasn't aware of. I have to replace bag, and make yet another giant mess.

- I get my batter assembled, and it's real lumpy. I'm decidedly anti-lump. I stir it for far too long to get all the lumps out. Pretty soon, it's nearly 7:30 pm, and I'm still working on finalizing the batter. It's a sickness.

- Recipe says to mix some sugar and cinnamon and dust the loaf pans with it. I do so. Use up all the cinnamon sugar, and then realize that the recipe said to put some if it on top of the bread. F*ck! Oh well.

- Mix in optional chocolate chips, and suddenly Hank's chocolate meter kicks in and he comes sniffing into the kitchen. He demands to get up on a chair and "help me stir" and manages to nab several of the chips.

- In relief, I pop the loaves into the oven, and the entire house quickly smells divine. A baking success; what a rarity!

So, I'm pleased. Next weekend, I'm going to make a low-cal version with Splenda, and add raisins and walnuts to put out at Hank's birthday party. We'll see how it goes :) Anybody want a starter kit?

Cookies

Well, I made my Pillsbury pre-everything cookies last night, and unsurprisingly, they turned out rather well :) All I had to do was pop open the package, place the pre-cut balls on my baking stones, slap in oven for fifteen minutes, and voila! I'm terrible at measuring out cookie dough. I either make them too small and they get all crunchy, or I make them too big and they spread out too much on the sheet and run into the other cookies. I *hate* when that happens. Then the edges look all straight and weird. Anyway, I'll buy those again for when I need to quickly bake cookies on a week night. After work, I'm way too tired to drag out the beaters and attempt to bake something edible. Like I said, baking doesn't come naturally to me. Not only that, but my attempt will inevitably involve profanity, use of force on household appliances, scraping batter off the counter, walls and possibly ceiling, cloud of flour forming in the kitchen, and throwing away of deformed first product. Tonight I'm baking the Amish Friendship Bread. Thank God I talked to Bridget yesterday, or I would have used olive oil, not nearly enough pudding mix and only baking soda. Baking soda, baking powder, what the heck is the difference? Apparently, an important one.

Hank liked the cookies. I had to stop him from eating the raw dough and chewing on the spatula, but other then that, things went great.

Baking...

I'm real inspired about baking and cooking lately. Some of it stems from my weight loss efforts (down nearly 7 lbs! *halo*) and some of it stems from my new obsession with the wedding cake show. But at any rate, Hank and I are baking cookies tonight for his Halloween party at daycare tomorrow. I'll fess up right now: they're Pillsbury pre-mades. What an invention! But I'm a better cook than I am baker. Cooking, I can say "what? ground coriander seeds? yeah, I'll use something else instead." With baking? Not so much. I once attempted to make this cream cheese ball for a dessert at a Bunko gathering I was to attend. It had chocolate chips in it and all kinds of fab sugar and spices. Generally, you'll dip graham crackers in it. My friend Adrienne gave me the recipe. Well...*heaves sigh* It didn't turn out so well. It tasted fine, but let's just say that it didn't turn out in a ball. The consistency was all wrong. We don't own a stand-up electric mixer, and that was part of the problem. Trying to slowly add confectionary sugar while using those portable beaters = goop on Tiffany's kitchen ceiling. So, with baking, my improvising doesn't work out so well.

My next project is the Amish Friendship Bread starter kit that Bridget gave me. I've been happily mashing the mixture for 9 straight days, just like the instructions tell me. I'm a good rule follower. Tomorrow is the true test. I'm planning to bring some into work on Friday assuming it doesn't turn out disastrously, so be sure to check the reference office on Halloween :)

Disturbing discoveries of the day...

and it's not even 11 am. This doesn't bode well.

(1) Ladies room paper towel dispenser #2, broken for the previous week - now functional, but some sort of grafetti symbol has been spray painted onto its surface.
(2) Ladies room paper towel dispenser #1 - now broken.
(3)There is a large section of *wet* toilet paper *in one of the the library elevators.*

I'm sure this list will be added to throughout the day. I reserve the right to amend as events dictate. Today *really* sucks.

Ladies room update of the day

Total # of stalls: 5
# of stalls with no toilet paper: 2
Total # of paper towel dispensers: 2
# of paper towel dispensers with no paper towel: 1
Total # of sinks: 5
# of sinks with absolutely disgusting *gobs* of hair littered on their surface: 2 (I'm serious - this person must now be bald).

Attempting to use the ladies room at work...

I feel the need to whine about something. I work at a large university. Never before, in all of my years, have I encountered a ladies room situation as abysmal as the one in the library. I will grant, I have never traveled to a Third World country. But really, if it has to be compared to that, it must be pretty bad, right?

Here is a typical ladies room encounter in the life of the Catholic Librarian:

Enter ladies room. Nearly twist my ankle on a stray square of the toilet paper that is littered about the floor. Regain composure, and the hunt begins. The hunt...for a stall that has toilet paper actually on a roll in its proper location and not: (a) ripped and thrown to the floor, (b) already in place on the toilet seat and *previously sat on* by the last occupant, or (c) otherwise crumpled up and used in some sort of unpleasant, yet mysterious, fashion. Sometimes nefarious option (d) rears its ugly head, which means that the paper has already been used in the traditional sense, and then scattered in location (a) or (b) or possibly stuffed near the flusher.

Contender #1 - Oop, none there.

Contender #2 - Once again, big fat zero.

Contender #3 - Oh look, toilet paper, but...Dear God, what *is* that?! Quickly walk over to...

Contender #4 - Pitiful looking, nearly empty, roll of toilet paper, but whoever was last in there did not flush the toilet. Moving on...

Contender #5, the handicap accessible stall - Has toilet paper. Toilet has been flushed. *feels guilty, but rushes inside and locks the door*

Catholic Librarian: *delicately uses facilities*

Student in next stall: *clatters inside* *lots of rustling* *cell phone rings* *quickly answered* "Hello? Um, like, hi!! Yeah, yeah, I'm in the library...*cut off as toilets flush in abundance* yeah, I know, right?! It was totally, totally stupid. Can you believe she puts up with him? I mean..."

Catholic Librarian: *stays frozen in stall, desperately not wanting to flush toilet while student on phone* *realizes that if student doesn't care, why should CL?* *flushes toilet as discreetly as possible* Unlatches door and moves to sinks.

Student in next stall: "uh huh, uh huh, right!" *leaves stall noisily* *exits ladies room without washing hands*

Catholic Librarian: *sighs*

I stick my hands under the nearest, ridiculous, annoying motion sensor faucet. Seriously, how hard is it to turn a knob? No water comes out. Move to the next sink. Water comes out, freezing cold. Twist little switch to warm water. Wait a full 10 seconds. Water warms. Turn to soap dispenser and give it a good press. No soap comes out. I swear. Press again. No soap comes out, so I yank my hand away. Approximately .57 seconds later, soap gushes out and slops to the floor. I swear again. Move to the next sink in disgust. Rinse hands. Turn to the next soap dispenser and...oh, that's right. There IS no next soap dispenser. The only other soap dispenser is several feet away from the sinks, next to the door. I glare at myself in the mirror and move to the far off soap dispenser. Press it. Nothing happens. Move hand away and soap slops to the floor. I punch it again, and this time I'm ready. I hold my hand there and refuse to move, despite the people behind me jostling me in their anxiety to begin their toilet paper hunt, until the soap reluctantly falls onto my palm. Scrub, rinse, move to the paper towel dispenser. Hit release bar. Nothing happens. This is probably because it's empty. I swear. Move to paper towel dispenser #2. Hit release bar. Nothing happens. Discern that it remains jammed, as it has been for a freaking week. Shake water off my hands as I exit ladies room in disgust and nearly collide with another cell phone laden student.

I stomp off, resolved to use the other ladies room next time, the one with the gaps between the stall doors large enough for a small animal to pass through, and anybody to view the entire proceedings should they desire to do so. I don't know that it's possible to write a nastier response on the survey that was done last year by Campus Facilities than I already have, but if so, I'm on it.