Every now and then something amazing happens in my life that must be documented.
Today is a day like that.
I found a new recipe. Sweet Potato Pie.
It's like the heavens opened and I KNEW God loved me.
I've never been a huge fan of Sweet Potatoes. I will be honest. It's always just been, "Ehhh..." to me. It's because I never found the right recipe. Today I found the One.
Now, before I post this recipe and all you healthy 'too much sugar-and OMG the butter!' people start in on your comments crucifying me to the cross of internet social media, I have just four words for you.
You can shove it!!
Okay. That's harsh. I know. I'm sorry! But I've been training for a Half-Marathon. I have been literally working my you-know-what-off. I've ran a butt-load of miles this Thanksgiving week just so I wouldn't feel guilty about the Thanksgiving Holiday. Particularly the cube of butter in one pie. My clothes are getting bigger and my waistline is getting smaller so I'm not going to feel bad about this.
So, because I may be slightly defensive. Let me please say that nicer.
You can PLEASE shove it!!
There. We. Go.
Okay, now that that is out of the way, I must have this recipe with the rest of my favorites.
Ingredients:
4 Sweet Potatoes
1/2 Can Evaporated Milk
4 Tbsp Butter
1/4 C. Brown Sugar
1 Tsp Vanilla
Cook potatoes and mix all ingredients together in mixer, pour into your favorite pie crust.
Topping:
1 Cup Brown Sugar
1 Cup Coconut Flakes
6 Tbsp Melted Butter
Mix topping ingredients and sprinkler over potato mixture in pie shell. Refrigerate if you prepared ahead, but not necessary.
Serve warm or at room temperature with cool-whip after baking at 350 for 30-40 minutes.
Just when I have decided that my life is calm and in control...God say's, "Oh! Lets give her Teenagers!"
And so he does. And it is good.
...Sometimes.
I've never talked about my bedroom, because let's be honest. That's weird.
I love my bedroom for a bunch of reasons! It's actually my favorite room in the house. I decided years ago that my bedroom should be like a Motel room. Like the Ritz! Decorated. Clean. Attractive.
Then I had kids and it somehow converted itself into a used up Motel 6 with no room service and bad towels.
Awe. Children are miracles! Aren't they?
Frequently, and lately I have had moments of hysteria where I walk into my peaceful room and see horrible things happening.
Teenagers. Plural. Definitely more than one. Like they multiply in the middle of the night.
They are in my room. They are in my bed.
THEY ARE IN MY ROOM IN MY BED!
You know when you forget to put the lid on the blender before you push the button?
It's like that in my head.
"Why are you in my room? Why, WHY are you in MY bed?" I ask trying to remain calm.
Calm down. Just calm down.
"Let's just think this through. Shall we?" I start explaining to the half listening teenagers. "This is a 6 bedroom house. You each have beds that you can sit and sleep in. There are three other TVs as well. You don't need Mom and Dads." I'm ranting at this point but I don't care so I continue, "You realize that we don't just lounge in your room? In your bed?. Hello...!"
One of them looks and me and back to the TV. The other nicely says, "Oh. Hey Mom." They actually don't here any of the words coming out of my mouth.
How can they not hear me? This is where I reflect back to my behavior in my own teenage years and I want to punch myself in the face.
I walk out only because wrapping them in a shower curtain and rolling them down a deep canyon is most likely considered a felony. That and I like my shower curtain. I want to keep that.
This behavior slowly becomes a daily thing until the unthinkable happens.
Mr. Molly Mormon and I walk in our bedroom to find the same situation. This time...there is food.
THEY ARE EATING FOOD IN MY BED!
Have you ever slept with crumbs? It's weird. That is all I have to say about that.
I skip the previously repeated daily rant and go right to..."FOOD? You have food in my bed!?? Do we not have a kitchen table? Do we just eat where ever we want?"
They hear me now. My voice has reached levels that only dogs and certain instruments at NASA can hear.
"We are not beasts of the field! We don't EAT where we SLEEP!" I feel the irrationality and take a deep breath.
That's when I find the solution. I know exactly what to say. I look at Mr. Molly Mormon with a slightly sick and maniacal smile.
Oh, yeah! This is happening.
"Hey girls?" I say as they are surprisingly both looking at me at the exact same time.
"Do you know what Dad and I DO in that bed?"
The looks on their faces. The utter disgust. The literal jump out of my bed as if it was somehow burning their very skin.
I've never seen Cocoa Puffs move that fast!
Not only their body language, but the words they are saying regarding what kind of truth I had just opened to their naive imaginations and their faces distorted like they just tasted a mouthful of bitter reality.
It was the most full-filling 30 seconds of my life.
I'm sitting here after all the dinner work wondering why I haven't been taken out.
I mean on a date.
Not takenout like what I envision would apply to the teenagers.
An actual door opening date. Don't get me wrong, I totally love the Mr. Molly Mormon, but that man works.
In all honesty it's my fault he works so hard. Six kids coming out of my uterus will do some stressful things to a man. I spare you the details at who's fault that really is.
I just had the horrifying realization that the highlight of my evening has become an only slightly entertaining game of losersaywhat with my seven year old. Followed by an extensive conversation as to why he is never allowed to give his sisters Purple Nurples.
I actually wonder what people do going out as often as they do. Movies may have lost all appeal. When did I get old enough to fall asleep at movies?!?
I did get all dressed up a few nights ago. I had an exciting evening at the grocery store. We were out of milk.
That was fun. Good times.
I'm actually pretty grateful. I could have a snoring social life and snorefest of a marriage.
In as much as I've decided how uneventful my evenings can be, I'm enlightened by one pure fact. The husband is pretty amazing. How could I be bored with Mr. Molly Mormon.
I've compiled a list.
One...
We get to have conversations like this all day while we're at work.
I mean...that's just entertaining on a Monday afternoon.
Two...
He just bought me two brand new vehicles. What high maintenance wife is going to complain there?
Three...
He puts up with an obnoxious mouthy wife who thinks everything she says is funny...when in reality...only a slight fraction of the words coming out of her mouthy behavior call for a slight smile.
Four...
He is to blame for the six kids. But it could be worse. They could be ugly.
Disclaimer: above children mentioned could possibly be ugly however biasly portrayed by the author of this post.
Lastly...
He's very humble. Which is crazy because anyone who knows me will completely understand that that is a perfect example of opposites attract.
Me? Humble? No go.
As long as he's here I'm totally happy to never go out again.
Oh Karma! Sometimes my best friend, other times my worst enemy.
You know the worst thing about Karma?
Is when it comes back to bite me in the big ol' Booty...Yes. This has happened multiple occasions. Let's not talk about that.
The second worst thing about Karma is making comments like, 'Oh you know Karma's coming their way!" or "Karma is going to bite them in the you-know-what-A!" and you never get to witness it's extremely satisfying results on the deserved individual.
But when you get to witness it... It's amazing! And of course, it has to be documented.
kar·ma
ˈkärmə/
noun
(in Hinduism and Buddhism) the sum of a person's actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences.
informal
destiny or fate, following as effect from cause.
The story starts with a tall amazing man that I refer to as Mr. Molly Mormon. Yes, he hates that name but I still use it. Then we can have conversations like this:
Him: "Why are you still calling me Mr. Molly Mormon on your blog?"
Me: "You mean, you read my blog?"
Him: "Yes, as do my co-workers."
Then it's gets awkward and I apologetically tell him that I will never do that again.
This is me never doing that again.
So Mr. Molly Mormon surprises me with this text a week or so ago. It has the following picture and comment.
Hey Woman! What do you think of this one?
wom·an
ˈwo͝omən/
noun
a wife, girlfriend, or lover. Term or endearment, not a misogynistic overtone.
"he loved his wife and so grateful for that woman"
I saw this text and I was in love! With Mr. Molly Mormon and the shiny new car.
But mostly the shiny new car!
It had more bling than I had ever seen! Suddenly excitement took in! My husband was car shopping and this was perfect! Leather, shine, rims, Navigation and Bluetooth, all the perks I love!
And all the things I usually pass over for the needs of my children.
Those sweet little freeloaders.
Oh and the ability to seat eight of us. That's important. Actually, in my house, a requirement. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find an eight passenger vehicle? Of anything?
I am one child away from the Dugger-sized 20 passenger family wagon.
That. Is. Scary.
So, needless (and needful) to say, this vehicle made my day!
I don't know that I ever mentioned that Mr. Molly Mormon works at a car lot. I don't even need to be there to car shop. He sees something come in and can in all reality, just drive it home after a signature or two and it's ours.
Which is exactly what he planned with this new Navigator! I was so excited and so in love with the hubs. More in love with the car, or course.
Wait...I already said that.
So, just this last week, he texts me at work and tells me to come drive the Navigator just so I'm sure.
Oh, I'm sure! But why not?! I totally ditched finished my employment responsibilities, left the office and headed to hug my Navigator husband.
Just as I'm a block away from work, and the Husband calls me and tells me the worst news I've ever heard in my entire life.
Okay, not entire life...but close.
"Never mind." Oh, I know this voice. He. Is. Mad. "Another sales guy heard that we wanted it and called his client to come get it first."
You know how there is always that one guy you work with that lives on the shady part of town? You know, the one that you just know there is some stuff in that dudes closet...
Not my work, of course. No. Certainly. Not. Ever.
But at Mr. Molly Mormon's work? Yep. He's the short chubby dude with a skip in his step.
He knew I was on the way for my husband to do one of the most awesome husband of the year things...buy me a seriously blingy SUV that will carry all my freeloaders...and he totally sold it out from underneath us.
Molly Mormon wanted to throat-punch him.
I didn't want to totally kill him. I mean, he wasn't worth prison time, but I totally would do a three day stint in county for it.
That was before I saw the husbands anger. Then I realized I needed to be the calm one.
Okay, out of the two of us...that never happens!
It got worse with Shady Sales Dude tells Jeremy, "Sorry to take it from your wife, but I gotta make money."
Yeah. That's right. His two kids are totally more expensive than our six. In fact, I remember how when I had only two kids...I totally would say to myself I can't wait until I have six kids. This is going to get SO much easier!
I kept telling my husband, "It's okay. I know you wanted to do this real cool thing for your wife, but guys like this get what's coming to them. Karma's coming for this dude!"
I didn't know it would be in five minutes.
As we are walking out to go, Chubby Short Skippy Dude is moving the Navigator for his client. I don't know what he was doing exactly and was caught completely by surprise when he reversed MY Navigator into another $35,000 vehicle.
Big scratches. Big Dents. Navigator now with a wrecked title. No commission for said Skippy. Big Karma!
I Love My Life!
I got to witness Karma in it's finest! I was lucky enough to watch it happen.
I would like to take a moment of silence for my Navigator. It truly was the victim in the story.
You know how you do something funny at the time? Or at the time it just seems legit? I find myself in these moments a lot. I think something is funny so I do it. Then it comes back to bite me in the you know where.
Now I'm thinking that this story isn't funny at all.
And I'm immature. And obnoxious.
And you're not supposed to start a sentence with the word and.
I have to go back a few years (like 8) to really tell this story.
I used to have the cutest Pug dog. His name was Petey and was an awesome animal!
Except for the diaper thing. But that is another story for another time.
And I started that sentence with the word but.
Petey. Good dog. Very sweet and loving. Here is the thing, though. He only bonded with me. He didn't really bond with anyone else in the family.
It was a really hard decision, but when I became pregnant with my fourth child (the boy), I realized my hands were too full for me being the only one to take care of Petey. After much agonizing and a lot of pregnancy tears, I decided to find him a home where everyone in the family loved him.
Not to be all Forrest Gump, but that is all I have to say about that.
I then decided there would be no more dogs. My heart could not break like this again.
UNTIL everyone else in the family fell in love with this cute, hairy, spineless chihuahua with an anxiety problem. I have to get him puppy Prozac.
Yes. He is spineless.
We named him Hercules.
Let's recap. No more Petey. Now it's hairy-spineless-Hercules.
I LOVE animals and there is NEVER a time for any disrespect towards them. Never.
But if I may be honest; I resented Hercules for a long time.
He wasn't Petey.
Sure he didn't chow down on a dirty diaper like I do bad things with Carbs, but still. Not. The. Same.
It's also important to understand I wasn't working at the time so I was left to train Hercules. Feed him. Calmly talk him down from anxiety hill every time the phone rang.
Well, it was a quiet Tuesday and I was alone when in a moment of resentment and revenge I noticed that Hercules was by the door. I wondered if he were ready to go outside and do his pansy a$$ business.
That's when the thought came.
I can train this dog with any phrase that could mean, 'Do you have to go outside?'.
OH! THE THINGS THAT HAPPEN INSIDE MY MIND!
Delicious!
It didn't take too long to ponder and come up with the phrase..."Hercules! Are you Queer?"
He just looked at me with his cute annoying puppy face. He turned it slightly to one side.
Then I jumped up and ran to the door from the couch mopping the floor, excitedly repeating the same exact phrase over and over again.
"Are you Queer? Lets Go!"
"Are you Queer?!"
"Are you Queer?! Outside!"
I found myself humored. I was thrilled at the possibilities!
Funny as one might find this to be...lets think this through. Shall we?
Kids. Repeat. Everything. E V E R Y T H I N G ! ! !
This became a thing in our house.
Have you ever heard a three year old say the word Queer?
...To a Chihuahua?
...That just needs to pee?
...with the very loving and respected Church Bishop in your living room?
AND...just in case you think to yourself, Aww, no biggie! The Bishop didn't understand what my angelic little toddler was saying. ONLY for him to confirm your worst fear by stating in sheer disbelief, "Did your baby just ask the dog if it's queer?"
HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS ONE!?
To this day! I kid you not! My last three children firmly believe that being queer means you have to relieve yourself!
Everyday of my present life entails anyone of my younger children ages eight to one years old asking Hercules the said question. But NOW, instead of him just looking up at you in total confusion, I get an excited, spinning, dancing Chihuahua running to the door...Because he's Queer.
That right, People! E V E R Y D A Y!
I really am ashamed because I have really grown to love this stupid dog. I expect this behavior out of my teenager.
I am a total red neck. As I have posted before. I literally was born white trash. In the sticks. With no teeth.
I love learning about new recipes. I love food. I love eating food. Who doesn't??
So when I had this thought, "Hey, Red-Neck! You should make Bruschetta!
First of all, I can't even spell Bruschetta without using Google. How am I supposed to cook it?
Even as I write this there are the annoying little red squiggly lines underneath it still appear. Like insecurities and laundry. They are always there.
Hey! The good news! This recipe turned out awesome!! I think the moment of inspiration came when I was overhearing the episode of Cutthroat Kitchen in the background and they were assigned this dish. I had a small moment of anxiety. What if I were on this episode and I didn't really know how to make Bruschetta? Worse...what if they asked me how to spell it?
It literally had the same feeling you get when you dream about being naked in public.
...according to 'my friend' of course. Being that I have never had that dream.
So I did some research, talked to Mr. Molly Mormon, and started to think about things. I understood that this was the first time making something this fancy and I knew that the first time you make it you just need to accept that it's not going to turn out like the rest of the times you make it.
It's going to be like the first pancake. I just know it.
It actually turned out amazing! It wasn't red neck at all! Ahhh...look at me. I'm growing up.
The first thing I did was get up that morning and make a fresh batch of bread. I used one of the loaves for french bread. Of course buying your favorite crusty loaf or baguette at the store is just as awesome. If your interested in a bread recipe I have one posted.
Ingredients:1/2 lb Pancetta
5 Garlic Cloves
1 Pint of Red Grape Tomatoes
1 Pint Yellow Grape Tomatoes
About 15 Fresh Basil Leaves
2 T Balsamic Vinaigrette
Salt & Pepper
Fresh Parmesan Cheese
Bread of Choice
Butter
Italian Seasonings
Directions:
1.In a hot saute pan, dice and cook the Pancetta until a crispy golden brown. Once cooked, remove the Pancetta from the saute pan, leaving the drippings.
2. Cook the 5 garlic cloves that are diced well in the Pancetta drippings. This will allow it to enhance the flavor of the garlic and pick up the Pancetta flavor in the garlic as well. Once the garlic is no more than golden brown, add it to the bowl of pancetta.
3. Cut the tomatoes in fours. I cut them in half, then half again. Add them to the pancetta and garlic.
4. Add 2 T of balsamic vinaigrette, the finely diced basil leaves and sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.
5. Taste and modify according to your likeness.
6. Cut thin slices of Bread at an angle. Lightly Butter one side and sprinkle Italian Seasoning.
You really could carefully broil the bread to get a good crisp. No more than 40 seconds flat. But whom I kidding? I have six kids and a load of distractions I am certain I would burn my beloved house down.
I recommend laying them on the BBQ or just grilling them on the stove. Personally I don't like any more crisp on them then that so it works for us.
7. Once the Bread is done, sprinkle the mixture across the bread, sprinkle with some Parmesan cheese and enjoy those yummy flavors.
There are MANY variations of this recipe (all recipes!) if you add, take away, or find something you love, you should let us know! I love hearing more ideas on what works!
There is a new social media challenge going around Facebook to get to know each other more. It's 25 things you might not know about someone and I liked being nominated!
Unlike the Ice Bucket Challenge. For which I did not do and I did not donate money. Don't judge me but my house is already a non-profit organization.
Anyway, I really like this one and even my closest of friends' lists intrigue/frighten me. I enjoy reading them.
1.My BFF and I toured Japan for two weeks when we were 14. It was with a student exchange program. I even scored me a cute international oriental boyfriend in the lobby our hotel for like 15 minutes! He thought I was the cutest little round eye girl he had ever seen! But we couldn't get over the language barrier.
Ah... the pains of young love...
2. I speak a weird language called OP. Which is ironic after reading #1. I talk it mostly with my Mom when my kids are around. It makes them SO mad and I revel in their frustration in not knowing what I am saying. When I am talking about them I am sure to say their name in plan English just to bug them.
3. I have a dream of becoming a Newberry Prize winning author. But I can't even spell the word sentance without using spell check. Sentance. Sentenance, Sentence!! There. I did it! I've started many different books which sit old and neglected in my documents file. They include titles like, "Show Me The Skinny-Memoirs of A Chubby Girl", "Big Mama & Her Overactive Uterus", and lastly, "Mommy Wars". I understand now how none of these titles would result in a Newberry Prize plus I had to spell check the word Memoirs. Twice. It's a very slow work in progress.
4. I am a really good shot with guns. Like freakishly-girl-good! I don't really know why other than it must be in my genes. My grandmother on my Dad's side was like this too. So is my daughter Rheesah. She can hit the bulls eye with her .22 in like one-two shots. It surprises people even though I don't know a whole lot about guns. Except the ones I own which happen to be the spoken .22, a 12-gauge, a 9M, and a 243 hunting rifle.
5. As a child I became afraid of anyone that drove a large van. It happened after I watched the movie Savannah Smiles and understood the realization of kidnapping. Whenever I would play outside and van came down the street, I would run inside. To this day whenever I walk by one I always peek inside to verify no child is there. Weird.
6. I still don't get Twitter. I have a Twitter account, but I just don't get Twitter.
7. My dream job would be to write for The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. I do understand the hashtag twitter game on his show.
8. I secretly compare myself to others all the time! while I know it's unhealthy, self destructive, and unfair to myself. I have been doing better.
9. I often tell people that I was born redneck. My family has more missing teeth and plumbers cracks than any other family I have ever met. I wouldn't trade them for anything and love them with all my heart. Even if they are idiots half the time. Present company not excluded.
10. I want to quilt like 2 of my friends that are the best quilters I have ever seen. See #8.
11. I use sarcasm in relation to my experiences as a mother (and everything in life, really). While it may seem negative at times I know the best thing I have ever accomplished during my life is the ability to be a Mom to these wonderful spirits.
12. I am horrible at checking my voice mail. At the exact moment I type this I have four messages on my cell phone that has been there over a week. *Employment Disclaimer: If said cell phone was a business phone...This author can not be held accountable. That would just be weird.
13.I have a perfect driving record having never been in a car accident nor ever caused a car accident. Which may be surprising because I had so many speeding points on my drivers license when I was a teenager. My license was actually suspended until I took the proper classes 'reinstating my driving privileges'.
14. I love sleeping on cold pillows. I often have two pillows and strategically place one pillow so the end of it will get cold. Then I go through the night constantly turning it so my cheek lays on the cold side.
15. I rarely finish the last bite or two of my sandwich. I don't know why. Even when it's really good it usually gets discarded or my husband will pop it in his mouth.
16. I hate snakes, scorpions, and spiders. I will not elaborate other than to say I don't understand why they are on this earth and Unicorns aren't.
17. I don't like Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, or any other spacey sci-fi. I have not seen any of these movies nor do I understand the craze. Please don't try convincing me otherwise. Many have tried. I do not understand how a light saber is a weapon. I question it's purpose.
18. I love food. I cook it all the time. I love coming up with new recipes that I've created myself. Sometimes they are a total hit, and other times I get weird looks from my kids at what kind of science experiment I just fed them.
19. I love it when people depend on me. Especially my family. If I know someone is counting on me it makes it really important to me that I not let them down.
20. Despite the fact stated in #19 I'm learning how important it is to not let myself down.
21. I can not sing. I can not carry a tune. It's bad. When I sing it sounds like something died in my throat and it's just stuck there, but I do it anyway.
22. Lately I've become an erratic cleaner. I'm not sure how this is a bad thing.
23. I love service. I wish I did it more. Usually I'm thinking too much about myself to wonder what other people need. I'm working on it.
24. I'm freakishly accident prone. I've had 8 broken bones and lots of stitches. The worst place being in my tongue. When I was in Japan I fell into a rice field which wasn't as bad as being severely electrocuted as a child. Luckily and Un-luckily, none of these injuries happened at the same time.
25. I can be very self-involved. Come on! I just thought of a how to talk about myself in 25 different ways! Like #23, I'm working on it.
