As Lent is a season to repent then here I go...

I was good this morning I had yogurt with fresh strawberries and blueberries; in satisfactory proportion.

Here comes the repentance...then at 10am I indulged, in both The View and a drumstick. It's luscious chocolate and peanut coat covered the delicious vanilla ice cream that was piled in a waffle cone thats inner was swirled with chocolate--devilishly good!

So before I drop to my knees seeking God's forgiveness for my indulgence I am hitting the treadmill.

Yes I said treadmill.

First I will saw away the cobwebs that have been forming since December 2006 and with all luck she'll power up and I will sweat. Sweat chocolate away.

Oh heck who am I kidding--I feel no remorse for eating ice cream at 10am!

I say skip Lent and go straight to Easter so we eat all the chocolate bunnies and eggs our hearts desire!

I spent the evening laughing at random nonsensical things with my three daughters...nothing fills my heart more than the giggles of my girls.

THINGS THAT MAKE FOR A BAD DAY

• When the spouse removes a virus from the computer and in the process deletes my entire calendar--now I don't know where the fun I am to be or when (so if I had a appointment with you today and didn't show well, I'm claiming spouse). Tomorrow I will spend the day calling all the doctors comfirming appointments (who am I kidding, I'm not confirming I am trying to figure out what it is I can't remember) so I can re-record. Then I'll have to get new activities calendars from the schools so we don't miss those events. Did I already say what a pain in the ass this is and, how it has turned my life upside down!! My calendar is my daily guide.

• When the bank neglects to send a 1099 for the saving account (and I am due at the tax lady in 30 minutes)--the bozo at the bank I talked to should not be answering phones... finally on my thrid call I got a nice girl who ironed it all out for me, I thanked her a hundred times and promoted her to bank president.

• Forgetting it was trash day (I believe I had that marked on my deleted-gone to cyber space calendar). So I will have to prepare notes of apology for my neighbors as I fear the excessive trash build up may start our yard resembling Sanford & Son--Thursday can't come soon enough.

• When the gal at the Bath & Body Works guesses my age on the nose even though am I doused and saturated in grapefruit products. So much for that *&^%($# Little Black Book of Hollywood Secrets tip. The secret is the buyers of the book just blew $15.00. So if you didn't run out to purchase the book-- you can thank me later.

• The dog--enough said!

Bright star in my day is...I'm having a good hair day! To a woman that is everything!!

Why do we hang on to things? For posterity? Nostalgia? Whatever the answer may be, I still have my high school senior prom dress.


My vintage frock has been known to make party appearances-- once a few to many martinis have been consumed. Of course I can't zip it up all the way but...


This evening posterity made appearance and shone brightly--the vintage 1980 prom dress, accented by Grandma's 1950 Laguna crystal necklace and Weiss crystal earrings.


I don't know ladies but don't you think Princess A could really pull this look off at the 2007 prom?




Isn't the dress just smashing?

"Little Black Book of Hollywood Secrets"

I'm watching The Ellen Show, one of the features is this book...so I learned a trick from this "little black book". The scent of a grapefruit applied to the body when inhaled by others gives off the illusion that you are six years younger.

Don't bother me today, I'll be soaking in a vat of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, followed by a grapefruit moisturizer and a spritz of grapefruit cologne. I think that should create the magic?

Let me know tomorrow if you think I look thirty-....

And to think on Oprah I learned vaginal and hemorrhoid creams made me look younger. All these years I've walked around smelling like crouch and ass when, I could have been smelling like a citrus fruit. Oh well trial and error paves the way.

I think my DayQuil label should read do not operate heavy machinary while taking this product...I locked my keys in the car while I was at the License Office renewing my plates. I now have tire tracks across my back from crawling under the mini-van to retrieve my hide-a-key. I suppose I should be thankful "King Ralph" stuck it under there-- I felt compelled to tell the passer-bys what I was up to so they didn't call the police on moi.

No one said being a queen would be easy...I mean lady-in-waiting.

I suppose I'll just have a shot of NightQuil to toast my day.

I feed myself "fat" on Tuesday--with and at the annual Mardi Gras Pancake Supper.

I wore my ashes Wednesday upon my head--for just an hour (sorry I washed them off when I got home from worship this evening, does that make me a worse sinner).

I watched American Idol and wish to say this--in honor of Black History month the "sisters" brought down the house!

Tomorrow I am giving up sweets and hitting the tread mill--no not tomorrow I need to shake this cold; breathing and running are not something I think I am capable of simultaneously at this present moment.

I am changing my title to Keeper of the Castle.

Why?

It seems I married royalty without even knowing.

I entered the bathroom on Saturday evening to ask the spouse a quick question...there I find him stretched out (more like crammed) in the tub, spa jets blazing all around him, iPod in ears (possibly getting the words down to the songs that baffled him all week) while sipping a Jack and Coke. I shook my head. He smiled. He lifted his glass clinking the ice cubes; all that remained in his highball glass, asked "another please".

Oh my gosh I'm married to "King Ralph"!

If seeing this once was enough the "King" took the tub again on Sunday, this time I believe he wore his crown and had an unlit cigar clinched between his teeth, while Peter O'Toole stood attention at the door with a fresh Jack and Coke resting on a sterling silver service platter--giving a real sense of "King Ralph"

Later that night...

To make sure I realized this was no ordinary house Princess A called me from her cell phone while lounging on her throne in the lower level of our castle to request a mini bag of Smart Pop microwave popcorn.

No, no here is my new title-- Keeper of the Castle as told by the lady-in-waiting.

And to think all I ever wanted to be was queen.

There is something rather calming to the start of this day...in the silence of the early morning I sit watching over-sized snowflakes softly falling from the sky to the ground below. The splendor of winter.

And...somehow all of this-- nature's beauty--will soon turn to chaos as Mardi Gras sets to begin.

Silly me how could I have not known that underwear crouch, socks and trash cause gas for a dog--I suppose I should be thankful that Uli helped herself to a few Gas-X tablets...NOT! It is constant puppy pandemonium around here. God help me.

I'm still trying to understand why I agreed to this dog owner thing? All I can think is, when I did, I must have been in the middle of a mental break down.

While I sat in a total state of sap watching the movie Music of the Heart, my real life man crush was in the kitchen listening to iTunes. I inquired why he was listening to the kids music,"I'm working with these guys this week that listen to all these songs and I can't understand a thing that is being sung". Oh brother help us all-- the spouse was not only listening to the songs of Nelly and Pink but he was researching the lyrics, I heard him murmur, "oh that is what they are saying". God help me, us all, when he starts rapping.

****
I have been serving my family a jar of that recalled Peter Pan peanut butter-- if it happens that we all die from salmonella, I am requesting that Kathy Rigby fly over our caskets on a wire dressed in a little green suit. And...instead of a collage of photos please play the Disney animated version of Peter Pan on the TV. Oh all pallbearers--they should resemble the lost boys. One last request, please have Tinker Bell, not the minister say "ashes to ashes, dust to dust"...

...for a Valentine encore I will be performing an ice capade routine on the driveway. First the Toyota will be my doubles partner; we will skate backwards (while the car is in park) down the driveway. Then I will take to the ice solo performing the challenging butt buster--you all will be in awe of my gracefulness.

They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach...

So this Valentine's Day I rose at 5am to dice peppers, onions and mushrooms. To scrambled eggs laced with heavy cream. To prepare biscuits and blue berry muffins. To fry bacon. To bake hash browns. To slice fresh pineapple and strawberries. To squeeze cups of fresh orange juice.

Okay I am tired so I am going to take a morning nap. I'll clean the kitchen later.

Happy Valentine's Day.

My letters of apology...

Dear Daughters,
Mutti is sorry she didn't watch the news before your alarms went off this morning. Sorry some ate cereal and washed faces at 6am in preparation for an exciting day of reading, writing and arithmetic. But, think of all the fun we will have together-- huddled in the house as we anticipate the arrival of ice and snow.

Dear Dani-
I am so sorry that Demi wore her PJ's inside out last night to bring on a snow day. I know how excited you were for your first (pre-school) Valentine Party, she jinxed you. Tell your sisters I am sorry I didn't call your mama at 6am to tell her school was canceled--that she dressed them and sent them to the bus stop at 8am, when they could have slept in like all the rest of the elementary school kids.

I heard Demi make a phone call...

"Erin can you walk over here to hang out with me my mom has us watching The View and I can not take much more of watching Rosie O'Donnell make her crafts" Oh Demi Rosie's crafts were fine, it was Anita Baker's arm movements during her song that was hard to watch. The woman looked like she drowning and try to swim to the surface.

If you all are wondering how this snow day came to be, this is how it happened...Sunday night at church the high school youth met for there monthly meeting. At the end of the evening they took prayer requests for the closing-- top of the list was a request for a snow day. As the prayer was being spoken another mother and I snickered, really kids asking God to give them a resp it from school by way of snow accumulationvia prayer. I believe it went down like this...God took the rest of Sunday and all day Monday to think it over, figured more pressing things were at hand for Monday but answered there slightly pathetic prayer on Tuesday.

Well, regardless of how we got this snow day I say, YIPPEE!

I had a great weekend. No nothing adventurous, nothing overly exciting, just relaxing.

Friday A, M and I went to the fabric store to purchase materials for M's Saturday morning sewing lesson--I really believe Bravo's Project Runway has not ignited the youths desire for not only fashion flavor but, also has resurrected an almost forgotten art form; sewing. In the (slow motion) blink of the eyes I will be opening a store featuring M haute couture. Then we girls shopped Walgreen's for movie theater candy-- to accompany our Blockbuster flick --and Boire strips. How many of you can say you enjoyed a Friday night of extracting clogged pores from your nose with your teenage daughters?

Saturday I rose at the crack of dawn to drop A for the ACT. Then an hour later dropped M for sewing lesson. I plotted my very relaxing Saturday of sipping Diet Coke and watching TV. I started my 10 hour couch potato marathon with the Food Network...my TV man crush, Tyler Florence, I noticed got hitched he was wearing a ring. Now who am to fantasy about while standing over a hot pot? A joined me for the two hours of the chocolate marathon preceding to annoy me to no end to rise from the couch, run to the grocery, and purchase the items needed to make Giada's chocolate ravioli. I refused to move! I was onto 6 hours of Lifetime and Hallmark movies. Come on I say it is almost Valentine's Day we all need a good Danielle Steel epic or two (especially if the spouse is working all weekend) to flare up the romantic in us. Don't we?

Sunday after church we purchased the items for the chocolate ravioli. Let me just say the won ton wrapper doesn't start and stop with crab rangoon. The chocolate ravioli are heavenly! In case you are wondering, as I snack on the left overs,they are much more delicious right out of the hot oil. However my fat ass isn't complaining. I ended my great weekend by watching what I think was the best Grammy's in a long while. My music man crush, John Mayer, saddly lost best album to the Dixie Chicks so in my mourning I will play my collection of John Mayer albums in his honor.

Chocolate-Hazelnut Ravioli
16 won ton wrappers
1 egg, beaten to blend
1 cup chocolate-hazelnut spread (recommended: Nutella)
Vegetable oil, for frying
16 fresh mint leaves
Nonstick vegetable oil spray
Granulated sugar, for dredging
Powdered sugar, for dusting

Line a baking sheet with plastic wrap. Place 1 won ton wrapper on the work surface. Brush the edges of the wrapper lightly with egg. Spoon 1 tablespoon of chocolate-hazelnut spread into the center of the wrapper. Fold the wrapper diagonally in half over the filling and press the edges of the wrapper to seal. Place the ravioli on the prepared baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining won ton wrappers, egg, and chocolate-hazelnut spread.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees F. Add enough oil to a heavy large frying pan to reach a depth of 2 inches. Heat the oil over medium heat to 350 degrees F.

Working in batches, carefully add the ravioli to the hot oil and cook until they are golden brown, about 45 seconds per side. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the ravioli to a plate lined with paper towels to drain. Then, transfer the cooked ravioli to another baking sheet and keep them warm in the oven while frying the remaining ravioli. (The fried ravioli can be prepared 1 day ahead. Cool them completely, then cover and refrigerate. Before serving, place them on a baking sheet and rewarm in a preheated 375 degrees F oven just until they are heated through, about 7 minutes.)

Spray the top side of the mint leaves very lightly with nonstick spray. Working with 1 leaf at a time, dredge the coated side of the leaves in sugar to coat lightly.

Arrange 2 fried ravioli on each plate. Dust the ravioli with powdered sugar. Garnish with the sugared mint leaves and serve.

...while riding high on an unsolicited and unprovoked statement from the spouse--"I know I'm lucky I picked well"...

...I retrieved the daughters from school, before we can even get home I hear this from the back seat..."when you get home you better go take some Pamprin".

O-h b-o-y, t-h-r-e-e g-i-r-l-s, what did the spouse and I get ourselves into ?

So I made myself some homemade guacamole.

It’s half time in my Super Bowl of laundry (me vs. the laundry, the laundry is winning) and thought I would take a moment to reflect on Super Bowl Sunday.

My Super Bowl Sunday started out like this…on the hunt for a wagon wheel sandwich at Sam’s Club. When I saw a woman with one in her hand I inquired where she found it, saying it was the last one in the case—I offered to fight her for it, she grimaced at me and said no. I did however find a large container of the biggest strawberries—envisioning those three giant chocolate Santa’s melted down into a delicious coating for the berries. So I bought them.

The girls were so excited to be creating this luscious treat for our football feast of sandwiches, chicken wings, shrimp and dips. The guests arrived. The partying started. The icy cold beers were quenching thirsty men. The ladies delicately sipped Smirnoff Ice’s. All was good…or we thought.

M: mom my contacts are really bothering me

J: your eyes are really red go take them out

5 minutes later M reappears flopping on the couch

M: mom I am having trouble breathing, like when I ate the cherries

J: what did you eat tonight, what did you eat last?

M: chocolate covered strawberries, four of them

J: quick go use your inhaler

Calls doctor’s exchange

J: this is…I’m calling about…she is 14…her birth date is…the reason--well she ate strawberries, been eating them for 14 years never a problem before, her eyes are swollen, her lips are swollen, she has hives on the back of her tongue, she has difficulty breathing, her cheeks are red and warm with a prickly heat look of hives, not huge red blotches just tiny bumps all on the face…no hives on the trunk of the body. Okay I will give her 50 mg Benadryl and take her across the street to the hospital.

(Which I might add is not my favorite hospital but I had houseguests)

I explained to the triage nurse that all this occurred within what felt like thirty minutes-- the strawberry consumption and arriving at the hospital. We were escorted to an exam room and the roving registrar (aka we want to make sure we know where you live so we can collect your $100 co-pay) came in asking this question as part of the registration process: what is the exact time this occurred? I looked at her saying, I don’t know I was between a sandwich and a cocktail, the score was 14-16, I don’t even know the time now. You know what I did know—this stinking hospital had no TV’s in these exam rooms so we were oblivious to everything Super Bowl! Oh yes, and when she saw spouse’s occupation on her screen from our stored information in her portable computer she felt compelled to say “maybe your husband gave me a ticket”. Did I care? NO! My child is in the process of transforming into a human strawberry.

Finally the doctor broke himself free from the Internet (I can see you doc, everything from my curtained area, busted) and ordered 3 epi shots every twenty minutes along with 60 mg of prednisone.

Saved. Restored.

We hopped in the car KMOX was letting us know the trophy was being presented to…M quickly turned off the radio and boohoo-ed a bit “now everyone will be talking about the game at school and I won’t know anything but how to reverse a strawberry allergy”.

So to make her feel really good I said…"baby girl all we need to know is that my family has disowned us because we rooted for the Colts and not the Bears and we will be lucky if they let us visit Chicago in the future for just a weekend get away”. And then we laughed together my “don’t serve me fruit salad” girl and me.

So should she eat peaches, Bing cherries or strawberries we now own the EpiPen and are prepared to fight the fruit!

Today I called my grandmother to seek forgiveness (and maybe rub in a little the Colts beat the Bears). She said she still loves me.

Admission:

I was so tempted to purchase the "novelty amusement" from the women's restroom vending machine; just because I have never dared myself to do it--no kids on the short lived road trip felt like granted permission to be naughty. But dam, I left my purse in the car. So there I was without the required seventy-five cents to make the daring purchase. So here I am left wondering what the "amusement/joke" would have been.

I admitted to the spouse I was tempted and he laughed-- told his story of how at age 13 he and his buddies would bicycle up to the gas station daring one another to purchase the "sexy surprise" from the men's restroom vending machine. One day he got brave and took the dare--for his quarter he got a miniature photo of a naked lady(magnifying glass required for viewing).


A comment that sums up my almost 20 year marriage:

J: kids did you hear what Dad said? He said the vinyl windows [on the pop-up camper] are made of vinyl. Wow!

Kids: roar in laughter at their father's high level of intelligence

Spouse: rolling eyes You know your whole purpose of existence is to annoy the shit out of me!

J: I suppose it is-- love you honey!!