Easter 2012
Easter 2013
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Winner, Winner, Hammy Dinner
If you've read my last post, then you'll know why last Saturday was such a bad day. I took my cat to the vet in the morning, and I didn't return home with him. When we pulled into the driveway, I was sick to my stomach, my head was thumping, and my eyes were red from crying. But I'm a parent, and you only get to feel sorry for yourself for so long.
After shutting off the car's engine, I released my clench on the steering wheel and turned to look at Daphne. She was drying the corners of her eyes with a Kleenex. We nodded at each other and opened our car doors.
"Let's go see Char-bar."
"Yes, let's," Daphne agreed.
As I walked through the garage, I struggled to put on my game face. My sister-in-law, Phaedra, was kind enough to watch Charlotte while we were gone. Char could hear our approach, and as we climbed the steps I could hear her yell, "Mommy! Daddy!"
My smile became more real.
Luckily, Charlotte hasn't mentioned that Brody is gone. We think his seclusion in the bathroom helped her ease into his absence. Or not. Daphne did some research on pet bereavement, and the main idea is to not soft sell the pet's death by saying, "Brody just went away for awhile," or "Brody's sleeping, honey." Children are very literal, and they will see the conditions of "away" and "asleep" as reversible. Daphne did a nice job of explaining to her that Brody was very sick, and he was going to die. Charlotte seemed to accept Mom's explanation.
I thought this book might be a good way to reinforce Charlotte's concept of death, but I can't even open it. My game face isn't that good.
The rest of our morning went according to script. We played some, and then ate a light lunch. I choked down a few mouthfuls for theatrical effect, and around 1:30 Charlotte went down for her nap. Char usually sleeps for two hours, and I thought I'd take advantage of the time to either go run or take a nap myself.
I did neither. I was too drained for exercise, and I couldn't bring myself to lie down for my first catnap without Brody. I mostly sat, got up, sat down somewhere else, and then got up again. I paced not knowing what to do with my time.
Two hours later Char awoke, and while Mom was reading her books about Little Critter, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but any distraction was welcome.
"Hello. This is Dave, and I'm the director at the Dahl's grocery store on Merle Hay Road. I'm just calling to let you know that Charlotte won the coloring contest for her age group. We thought she was really creative with her use of crayons and stickers..." I don't remember what else he said at this point because I flashed Daphne a big smile and told her, "Hey! Char won the Dahl's coloring contest!"
"What! She did?" Daphne's burst of laughter was so loud I couldn't hear Dave from Dahl's. "Ohhh, Charlotte! You won a contest!" Charlotte looked happy and a bit confused. I don't know if she knew that winning a contest was a good thing, but she was rolling with our laughter.
I got back to the phone, and Dave explained that Charlotte's artwork had won her an Easter Basket and a spiral cut ham. Candy and meat? There can be no better prize for a little girl and her father! I told Dave we'd be right over, and after hanging up I ran over to hug the artist presently known as Charlotte. We did some high fives, too.
We had all forgotten that Daphne had been handed a contest entry a couple of weeks ago. Once Charlotte got excited about the project, she covered it in stickers. Daphne tried to convince Char to use more color and less adhesive, but gave up and let her daughter do her own thing, "It's her picture, after all."
Here's her art on display in the store. I was planning on writing a post about refrigerator artwork, and how interesting it will be to watch it evolve. I took this picture because I'm now one of those guys who proudly looks at scribbles and instead sees creativity, expression, and unlimited potential. You know, a dad.
No one ever thought Char was going to win. But the news lifted our spirits beyond expectations. When I danced down the hall to get Charlotte's coat, I looked up at the ceiling and said, "Thanks, God. We really needed this." I wasn't thanking Him for the win or the prizes. I was thanking Him for the happiness.
Here's Char accepting her award. She's escorted by her date, Pinky (who is a boy, by the way), and she had rehearsed her acceptance speech several times in the car. "Thanks for the basket."
"Charlotte, what did you win?"
No matter how dark the day, Charlotte is my favorite shade of sunshine.
After shutting off the car's engine, I released my clench on the steering wheel and turned to look at Daphne. She was drying the corners of her eyes with a Kleenex. We nodded at each other and opened our car doors.
"Let's go see Char-bar."
"Yes, let's," Daphne agreed.
As I walked through the garage, I struggled to put on my game face. My sister-in-law, Phaedra, was kind enough to watch Charlotte while we were gone. Char could hear our approach, and as we climbed the steps I could hear her yell, "Mommy! Daddy!"
My smile became more real.
Luckily, Charlotte hasn't mentioned that Brody is gone. We think his seclusion in the bathroom helped her ease into his absence. Or not. Daphne did some research on pet bereavement, and the main idea is to not soft sell the pet's death by saying, "Brody just went away for awhile," or "Brody's sleeping, honey." Children are very literal, and they will see the conditions of "away" and "asleep" as reversible. Daphne did a nice job of explaining to her that Brody was very sick, and he was going to die. Charlotte seemed to accept Mom's explanation.
I thought this book might be a good way to reinforce Charlotte's concept of death, but I can't even open it. My game face isn't that good.
The rest of our morning went according to script. We played some, and then ate a light lunch. I choked down a few mouthfuls for theatrical effect, and around 1:30 Charlotte went down for her nap. Char usually sleeps for two hours, and I thought I'd take advantage of the time to either go run or take a nap myself.
I did neither. I was too drained for exercise, and I couldn't bring myself to lie down for my first catnap without Brody. I mostly sat, got up, sat down somewhere else, and then got up again. I paced not knowing what to do with my time.
Two hours later Char awoke, and while Mom was reading her books about Little Critter, the phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, but any distraction was welcome.
"Hello. This is Dave, and I'm the director at the Dahl's grocery store on Merle Hay Road. I'm just calling to let you know that Charlotte won the coloring contest for her age group. We thought she was really creative with her use of crayons and stickers..." I don't remember what else he said at this point because I flashed Daphne a big smile and told her, "Hey! Char won the Dahl's coloring contest!"
"What! She did?" Daphne's burst of laughter was so loud I couldn't hear Dave from Dahl's. "Ohhh, Charlotte! You won a contest!" Charlotte looked happy and a bit confused. I don't know if she knew that winning a contest was a good thing, but she was rolling with our laughter.
I got back to the phone, and Dave explained that Charlotte's artwork had won her an Easter Basket and a spiral cut ham. Candy and meat? There can be no better prize for a little girl and her father! I told Dave we'd be right over, and after hanging up I ran over to hug the artist presently known as Charlotte. We did some high fives, too.
We had all forgotten that Daphne had been handed a contest entry a couple of weeks ago. Once Charlotte got excited about the project, she covered it in stickers. Daphne tried to convince Char to use more color and less adhesive, but gave up and let her daughter do her own thing, "It's her picture, after all."
Here's her art on display in the store. I was planning on writing a post about refrigerator artwork, and how interesting it will be to watch it evolve. I took this picture because I'm now one of those guys who proudly looks at scribbles and instead sees creativity, expression, and unlimited potential. You know, a dad.
No one ever thought Char was going to win. But the news lifted our spirits beyond expectations. When I danced down the hall to get Charlotte's coat, I looked up at the ceiling and said, "Thanks, God. We really needed this." I wasn't thanking Him for the win or the prizes. I was thanking Him for the happiness.
Here's Char accepting her award. She's escorted by her date, Pinky (who is a boy, by the way), and she had rehearsed her acceptance speech several times in the car. "Thanks for the basket."
"Charlotte, what did you win?"
No matter how dark the day, Charlotte is my favorite shade of sunshine.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Spring Broken
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
Elbert Hubbard
For the past three months I've been spending some quality time in the bathroom with my cat Brody. I'm pretty regular, and it takes about ten minutes from beginning to end each evening. Because some people might think this is gross, I won't show you any pictures.
Let me explain. Back in December, Brody had a dental check up at the veterinary clinic, and his blood work indicated that he was about to go into renal failure. I didn't really know how that was possible. He looked and acted perfectly normal, but Dr. Google reports that if a cat lives long enough their kidneys will eventually stop working. It's just what happens to old cats. Brody's 17, and that makes him 85 in human years.
Here we are in 1996 when he was a kitten.
The doctor told us one way to soften the blow of failing kidneys is to hydrate with 75-100 mL of saline solution. That necessitates hooking Brody up to an IV. I suppose you could go to the vet to have them perform this service for you, but that would be really inconvenient, and Brody hates going to the vet. Seriously, a lazy, peaceful Brody transforms into a snarling, whirling dervish as soon as his pet carrier crosses the vet office's threshold. So, we do it at home.
Do I like jamming a thick needle into the back of Brody's neck and trying to keep him still as the saline slowly drips into his system? No. I do not like it at all. But what am I supposed to do? Not only is Brody my cat, he's my family. If taking ten minutes out of my evening makes him more comfortable, then I can do no less. So, into the bathroom we go.
At first we would only hydrate him every other day, but Daphne noticed that Brody ate and drank more after a saline injection. Also, he started leading me into the bathroom, and I could tell he was asking to be treated. Brody's a smart cat, and I think he figured out that he felt better after our ten minutes together. And after a few weeks, it became our routine. He'd jump up on the counter, and while the saline worked its magic, I'd brush his fur and hear his purr.
Other than those ten minutes, everything else with Brody stayed normal. If he wasn't sleeping under the dining room table, he was following me around from room to room. Brody's my Velcro cat. Anytime I pause to sit or lie down, he's quick to be there, too. His presence is a constant.
He was there when Charlotte was three weeks old.
By early March we could tell that the magic was wearing off. Brody began spending less and less time at his food dish, and I winced the first time I ran my hand down his back and could feel the trail of bumps that was his spine.
Things really began to fall apart last week. For the first time Brody had an accident on our bathroom floor, and he couldn't jump to any height. To save him from struggling with the stairs, Daphne brought up his litter box and food dish from the basement. She set them up in our bathroom, and that's where he spent the rest of his days. If I brought a water dish to his mouth, then he'd drink for a few seconds, but by Friday he would only smell the plate of tuna I offered. Instead of climbing into the litter box to sleep, he fell into it.
The only thing good about last week is that it was spring break, and I could be there to check on him every hour or so. Luckily, Daphne spied Char sitting with Brody for what would be the last time, and she was quick with the camera.
I was wishing that Brody could die at home. I wanted to spare him the car ride to the vet and a death in the company of strangers. In all honesty, I selfishly hoped to avoid those things, too. I didn't want to be the one to decide it's time to end his life. But Brody's condition was irreversible, he was wasting away, and I couldn't continue to let him hurt. Not only is Brody my family, he's my little boy. If taking a ten-minute drive ends his suffering, then I can do no less.
I can't describe to you what happened in the cramped examination room on Saturday morning. Not because I lack the ability, but because I just can't do it. But I can tell you Daphne and I were with him to the last second, and I didn't cry when the vet left us alone with Brody's body.
Instead, I sobbed: body hitching sobs where you put your head on the table before you, and you make sounds that you didn't know you were capable of making. When they subsided, I all but ran out of the building. I didn't want to look at anybody, and I didn't want to get sick in front them, either. I haven't felt that empty in years.
It's at this point you end up asking if it was all worth it? Is having a pet is worth this much worry and pain? But even before the tears have dried you know it is. Six sad days are nothing when compared to 6000 good ones.
Between our first day:
And our last day:
We had years of fun, and you were always there for me.
Thank you.
Love, Dad.
Elbert Hubbard
For the past three months I've been spending some quality time in the bathroom with my cat Brody. I'm pretty regular, and it takes about ten minutes from beginning to end each evening. Because some people might think this is gross, I won't show you any pictures.
Let me explain. Back in December, Brody had a dental check up at the veterinary clinic, and his blood work indicated that he was about to go into renal failure. I didn't really know how that was possible. He looked and acted perfectly normal, but Dr. Google reports that if a cat lives long enough their kidneys will eventually stop working. It's just what happens to old cats. Brody's 17, and that makes him 85 in human years.
Here we are in 1996 when he was a kitten.
The doctor told us one way to soften the blow of failing kidneys is to hydrate with 75-100 mL of saline solution. That necessitates hooking Brody up to an IV. I suppose you could go to the vet to have them perform this service for you, but that would be really inconvenient, and Brody hates going to the vet. Seriously, a lazy, peaceful Brody transforms into a snarling, whirling dervish as soon as his pet carrier crosses the vet office's threshold. So, we do it at home.
Do I like jamming a thick needle into the back of Brody's neck and trying to keep him still as the saline slowly drips into his system? No. I do not like it at all. But what am I supposed to do? Not only is Brody my cat, he's my family. If taking ten minutes out of my evening makes him more comfortable, then I can do no less. So, into the bathroom we go.
At first we would only hydrate him every other day, but Daphne noticed that Brody ate and drank more after a saline injection. Also, he started leading me into the bathroom, and I could tell he was asking to be treated. Brody's a smart cat, and I think he figured out that he felt better after our ten minutes together. And after a few weeks, it became our routine. He'd jump up on the counter, and while the saline worked its magic, I'd brush his fur and hear his purr.
Other than those ten minutes, everything else with Brody stayed normal. If he wasn't sleeping under the dining room table, he was following me around from room to room. Brody's my Velcro cat. Anytime I pause to sit or lie down, he's quick to be there, too. His presence is a constant.
He was there when Charlotte was three weeks old.
And 19 months later.
By early March we could tell that the magic was wearing off. Brody began spending less and less time at his food dish, and I winced the first time I ran my hand down his back and could feel the trail of bumps that was his spine.
Things really began to fall apart last week. For the first time Brody had an accident on our bathroom floor, and he couldn't jump to any height. To save him from struggling with the stairs, Daphne brought up his litter box and food dish from the basement. She set them up in our bathroom, and that's where he spent the rest of his days. If I brought a water dish to his mouth, then he'd drink for a few seconds, but by Friday he would only smell the plate of tuna I offered. Instead of climbing into the litter box to sleep, he fell into it.
The only thing good about last week is that it was spring break, and I could be there to check on him every hour or so. Luckily, Daphne spied Char sitting with Brody for what would be the last time, and she was quick with the camera.
I was wishing that Brody could die at home. I wanted to spare him the car ride to the vet and a death in the company of strangers. In all honesty, I selfishly hoped to avoid those things, too. I didn't want to be the one to decide it's time to end his life. But Brody's condition was irreversible, he was wasting away, and I couldn't continue to let him hurt. Not only is Brody my family, he's my little boy. If taking a ten-minute drive ends his suffering, then I can do no less.
I can't describe to you what happened in the cramped examination room on Saturday morning. Not because I lack the ability, but because I just can't do it. But I can tell you Daphne and I were with him to the last second, and I didn't cry when the vet left us alone with Brody's body.
Instead, I sobbed: body hitching sobs where you put your head on the table before you, and you make sounds that you didn't know you were capable of making. When they subsided, I all but ran out of the building. I didn't want to look at anybody, and I didn't want to get sick in front them, either. I haven't felt that empty in years.
It's at this point you end up asking if it was all worth it? Is having a pet is worth this much worry and pain? But even before the tears have dried you know it is. Six sad days are nothing when compared to 6000 good ones.
Between our first day:
And our last day:
We had years of fun, and you were always there for me.
Thank you.
Love, Dad.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
S.B.D.
My mom just got hearing aids last week, and on Sunday night she was finally able to hear Charlotte when they talked on the phone. That's really cool, and it reminds me of a joke.
Two elderly ladies are sitting in church, and the one says to the other, "I just let out a silent fart. What should I do?"
Her friend replies, "Well, for starters, change the batteries in your hearing aid."
Two elderly ladies are sitting in church, and the one says to the other, "I just let out a silent fart. What should I do?"
Her friend replies, "Well, for starters, change the batteries in your hearing aid."
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Holiday Party
aka #1: We used to go out for St. Patrick's Day
aka #2: Combining celebrations with classic American literature
aka #3: Combining yellow scrambled eggs with four drops of blue food dye
aka #4: Good thing I'm colorblind
"What 'cha making, Dad?"
To finish off the holiday, I'm going to watch The Secret of Roan Inish.
Roger Ebert can explain this movie better than I can, but I will say it's a wonderful family film full of beautiful scenery, music, and story. Most reviewers who like the movie use the adjective "magical".
You can click here to check it out.
aka #2: Combining celebrations with classic American literature
aka #3: Combining yellow scrambled eggs with four drops of blue food dye
aka #4: Good thing I'm colorblind
"What 'cha making, Dad?"
"You'll see."
(Note my Irish bar glass full of water - a guy can dream.)
"So, what do you think?"
Note to self: When Charlotte is given both a spoon and some syrup, she'll combine the two.
To finish off the holiday, I'm going to watch The Secret of Roan Inish.
Roger Ebert can explain this movie better than I can, but I will say it's a wonderful family film full of beautiful scenery, music, and story. Most reviewers who like the movie use the adjective "magical".
You can click here to check it out.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
Reading and Rifles and 'Rithmetic
This is just one more reason that I'm glad I don't teach in South Dakota. Seriously, I've worked with teachers that I wouldn't trust with sharp scissors.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Loosen Up
My mom's coming to visit this weekend, and since she can't get an official Made-Rite sandwich in South Dakota, we usually stop by the restaurant for a quick fix.
I really like Maid-Rites, but they're not the only loose meat sandwiches in town. Right now, in church basements all across Iowa, slow cookers are full of ground beef leisurely simmering in a blend of ingredients from a recipe that's been handed down for generations. These loose meat concoctions are going to feed the thousands of people attending fundraisers, family fun nights, and funerals this weekend. I'd wager everyone of those sandwiches is going to be good. I've never had a bad one.
They're not just for church, either. Last night during parent teacher conferences, the staff at my high school were served a dinner provided by parents. What did they make us? Loose meat sandwiches. Were they good? I wolfed down two, and then sat there and envied everyone else's.
When I want to make loose meat sandwiches at home, here's my go-to recipe.
I don't remember what magazine I clipped this recipe from, but the beer and the mustard are the key ingredients. I've used a light beer when that was all I had, but I think a dark brew imparts a deeper flavor. Root around in the back of the fridge and see what you can find. Any mustard will do, but the whole grain variety gives this mix a robust flavor.
If you want to read the recipe in a more traditional style, you can click here.
Iowa connection #1: The Don Short that's quoted on the "Sandwich Secrete" plate is now the owner of West End Architectural Salvage, an awesome downtown Des Moines store that is the basis for a current reality show on HGTV.
Iowa connection #2: If you google loose meat sandwich recipes, it doesn't take long to find references to the TV sitcom Roseanne. "In later seasons of Roseanne, Roseanne Connor (Roseanne Barr) co-owns a restaurant called the "Lanford Lunch Box" in the fictional town of Lanford, Illinois, which specializes in loose meat sandwiches. The inspiration for Lunch Box was a real-life restaurant called Canteen Lunch in the Alley in Ottumwa, Iowa." wikipedia
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Saucy
It may sound like an unusual admission, but I really like condiments. I'm fascinated with all the different products that can put a unique spin on an ordinary meal. And I'm not the only one. People from all walks enjoy their condiments, and they take them personal, too.
"Personal" may seem like a stretch, but I've been barked at by a co-worker who noticed how I dressed my hot dog, "You put ketchup on your hot dog! How old are you? Five? You only put mustard on hot dogs!" Apparently she grew up in the Chicago area: link.
It seems strange to be judged by what you put on your hot dog or your hamburger, but people do it. I sure wouldn't want to eat a meal with Sean Hannity.
By the way, Sean, Kraft Foods makes Grey Poupon, and according to the Bloomsberg Business website, it was the second best selling mustard in America last year.
Even Dirty Harry cares about condiments.
Back in the years BC (before Charlotte), when we actually traveled out of state, I would try my best to visit a grocery store or a speciality market to see if I could find a product that wasn't available in Des Moines. It's fun to have friends over to grill, and you can offer five different kinds of BBQ sauce that they haven't heard of before.
I've made some mistakes, though. When we first traveled to St. Louis to visit Daphne's dad, we often visited the Old St. Charles shopping district. The main street features a variety of shops including Figuero's Espresso Bar and Hot Sauce Shop which has, "The largest selection of hot sauces west of the Mississippi, over 2,000 sauces."
I was a bit intimidated by the huge selection of hot sauces that Figuero's offers. Many of the bottles were the same size, but the names and designs on the labels ranged from cartoon animals to menacing fire and dangling plastic skulls.
There were posted signs explaining the Scoville scale, and some sauces were so lethal you had to sign a legal waiver before you could even handle the bottle. After fifteen minutes of indecision, I choose a large and exotic concoction that was sure to wow the folks back home:
I was pretty proud of my choice until we got back from our trip. That's when I noticed that Sriracha hot sauce is also available here in exotic food markets like Super Target, Walmart, and Aldi. I had 2,000 original sauces to pick from, and I choose the one that is threatening to outsell ketchup? Every time I see a bottle for sale in a gas station, I hang my head in embarrassment.
Speaking of gas stations, they do offer one sauce that you can't buy in stores. In fact, I don't think you can even buy this sauce from the gas station - they just give it away for free.
"Personal" may seem like a stretch, but I've been barked at by a co-worker who noticed how I dressed my hot dog, "You put ketchup on your hot dog! How old are you? Five? You only put mustard on hot dogs!" Apparently she grew up in the Chicago area: link.
It seems strange to be judged by what you put on your hot dog or your hamburger, but people do it. I sure wouldn't want to eat a meal with Sean Hannity.
By the way, Sean, Kraft Foods makes Grey Poupon, and according to the Bloomsberg Business website, it was the second best selling mustard in America last year.
Even Dirty Harry cares about condiments.
Back in the years BC (before Charlotte), when we actually traveled out of state, I would try my best to visit a grocery store or a speciality market to see if I could find a product that wasn't available in Des Moines. It's fun to have friends over to grill, and you can offer five different kinds of BBQ sauce that they haven't heard of before.
I've made some mistakes, though. When we first traveled to St. Louis to visit Daphne's dad, we often visited the Old St. Charles shopping district. The main street features a variety of shops including Figuero's Espresso Bar and Hot Sauce Shop which has, "The largest selection of hot sauces west of the Mississippi, over 2,000 sauces."
I was a bit intimidated by the huge selection of hot sauces that Figuero's offers. Many of the bottles were the same size, but the names and designs on the labels ranged from cartoon animals to menacing fire and dangling plastic skulls.
There were posted signs explaining the Scoville scale, and some sauces were so lethal you had to sign a legal waiver before you could even handle the bottle. After fifteen minutes of indecision, I choose a large and exotic concoction that was sure to wow the folks back home:
I was pretty proud of my choice until we got back from our trip. That's when I noticed that Sriracha hot sauce is also available here in exotic food markets like Super Target, Walmart, and Aldi. I had 2,000 original sauces to pick from, and I choose the one that is threatening to outsell ketchup? Every time I see a bottle for sale in a gas station, I hang my head in embarrassment.
Speaking of gas stations, they do offer one sauce that you can't buy in stores. In fact, I don't think you can even buy this sauce from the gas station - they just give it away for free.
(shown actual size)
Heinz Taco Sauce is one of my favorite condiments. If you're looking to make yourself sweat or burn your tongue, then this isn't for you. But I like the smoky flavor and the small amount of heat each single serving packet (or "sachet" if you're feeling fancy, Sean) delivers. It's the perfect accompaniment to Casey's Taco Pizza, and that's why they throw a couple of handfuls in every take home box. Although it might sound like sacrilege, I prefer to douse my Tasty Tacos with the Heinz sauce instead of the salsa they make in-house. In my defense, the restaurant offers both.
Also, those little packets are the only way you can get this taco sauce; Heinz doesn't offer it in a bottle. Maybe that exclusivity is what draws me in. Unless you want to pay an Amazon seller $44 for a pack of 500, you have to sneak extra packets out of the gas station in your coat pocket. I don't know anyone who would stoop to that level just for taco sauce.
Not my coat pocket. I swear.
I did try squirting the contents of a dozen packets into a recycled bottle to keep in the fridge, but after awhile it just didn't taste the same. I suppose it's like french fries; they're either hot and fresh, or they're not hot or fresh.
Looks like I'll have to be content saucing one packet at a time.
PS. I actually did buy a box of 500 packets from Amazon, but I mailed them along with a Tex Mex cookbook to my buddy Bob as a birthday gift. That was a couple of years ago, and Bob says he has about 485 packets left.
Maybe I should bring my coat over to his house.
Also, those little packets are the only way you can get this taco sauce; Heinz doesn't offer it in a bottle. Maybe that exclusivity is what draws me in. Unless you want to pay an Amazon seller $44 for a pack of 500, you have to sneak extra packets out of the gas station in your coat pocket. I don't know anyone who would stoop to that level just for taco sauce.
Not my coat pocket. I swear.
I did try squirting the contents of a dozen packets into a recycled bottle to keep in the fridge, but after awhile it just didn't taste the same. I suppose it's like french fries; they're either hot and fresh, or they're not hot or fresh.
Looks like I'll have to be content saucing one packet at a time.
PS. I actually did buy a box of 500 packets from Amazon, but I mailed them along with a Tex Mex cookbook to my buddy Bob as a birthday gift. That was a couple of years ago, and Bob says he has about 485 packets left.
Maybe I should bring my coat over to his house.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Bucket Head
While Charlotte and Daphne were in the basement playing around and checking the laundry, I decided to check the DVR and see if I had anything recently recorded. I found the newest episode of Fast 'n Loud, and after a few minutes I paused the program to tell Daphne how fun I think the show is.
As I walked downstairs, I could see that Charlotte had emptied her bucket of balls onto the floor. She was wearing the container while singing and purposely running into the walls and other objects.
As I walked downstairs, I could see that Charlotte had emptied her bucket of balls onto the floor. She was wearing the container while singing and purposely running into the walls and other objects.
When it comes to entertaining me, Fast 'n Loud has nothing on Charlotte.
PS. If you do a Google search for Buckethead, you'll learn a lot about a very talented and very weird guitar player.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Pun Burgers
I was in 6th grade when my sister made Soupy Burgers for our family. Preparing the meal was an assignment for her Home Economics class. The burgers had the cosistency of Dad's sloppy joes, but they looked worse and tasted better. I was pretty impressed, and I requested Soupy Burgers often.
For years I made these burgers using Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, but then I found this recipe on the back of a soup can label.
I don't usually study the cans in the grocery store's soup aisle, so I didn't know Campbell's made different kinds of mushroom soup. Somehow switching to Golden Mushroom soup made Michelle's Soupy Burgers a bit more fancy... as if soup combined with cooked meat can be considered luxurious on any level.
Like most simple recipes, this one's just a platform. You can substitute all kinds of soup. I've seen recipes using chicken gumbo, celery, and even alphabet soup. I bet you could use nacho cheese soup and your favorite salsa for some Mexi-themed burgers.
I saw this: recipe when I was doing a little research this morning, and I might make Chow Mein Burgers for my mom when she comes to visit next weekend. Mom loved going out for Chicken Chow Mein when I was growing up, but I wouldn't eat it. I thought her dinner looked like little sticks covered with snot.
Sorry. That's a horrible way to end a post about food.
For years I made these burgers using Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, but then I found this recipe on the back of a soup can label.
Like most simple recipes, this one's just a platform. You can substitute all kinds of soup. I've seen recipes using chicken gumbo, celery, and even alphabet soup. I bet you could use nacho cheese soup and your favorite salsa for some Mexi-themed burgers.
I saw this: recipe when I was doing a little research this morning, and I might make Chow Mein Burgers for my mom when she comes to visit next weekend. Mom loved going out for Chicken Chow Mein when I was growing up, but I wouldn't eat it. I thought her dinner looked like little sticks covered with snot.
Sorry. That's a horrible way to end a post about food.
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