Let's all go to Grandma's House - June 2010

Back in June my dad & I took a vacation day and spent HOURS doing yard work at Grandma's place, in preparation for her 90th birthday party. He drove from Leavenworth and me from Federal Way meeting up in Stanwood. He & I don't get to spend much time together so it was an extra special day. I learned some things along the way & wanted to share them with you:

Gasoline and kerosene do not mix well. They don't even smell the same when you get some on your skin. And good luck trying to find a way to dispose of them too, especially in an environmentally conscientious way.

If you buy a plant inside a store, it is likely an INDOOR plant. Even if they make the same darn thing in an outdoor variety, with the same freakin' name, don't plant an indoor plant outside.

There's no such thing as a Dilapitaded Woodpecker. Pileated, yes. Dilapidated - no.

But there IS such thing as a Kleptoparasitic bird. (Go on and break that down...klepto (as in likes to steal) and parasitic (as in parasite)

Do not give Starbucks to people who usually drink Folgers. Grandma may still be hanging from he ceiling as I type!

Your tiller comes with cotter/quick release pins for a reason. It is not necessary to individually unwrap every root and vine by hand! Still not sure why dad waited so long to share this tidbit with me...something about making sure he didn't give away all of his secrets lest his usefulness disappear..

Wet weed/grass clumps weigh 10 times more than their dry cousins.

The bottoms of your shoes can hold 4.5 pounds of caked on mud/dirt/clay/grass - EACH!

Miracle Whip is even sweeter than you remember as a child. Try it with Spam and Velveeta on white bread. Lunch was delish! (I think I may puke again just thinking about it!)

Thunder and lightning sound much more menacing when you have metal garden tools in your hand.

Grandma may close one eye to focus while she's speaking to your but she can spot a tiny spec of grass on the carpet from across the room - with both eyes closed!

And she may also not be able to hear 89% of what you're saying as you sit right next to her. But if a car door closes or a doorbell rings 5 houses down the block, she demands to know who's there.

You don't need Diet Coke and Mentos to make a fountain with your beverage. A warm bottle of well traveled Sparkling Rain works equally well. Especially when cruising down the highway.

All in all, we had an extremely productive day. Grandma's place looked great for her guests. And her party, rain aside, was lovely.

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

Anymore I am really trying to ‘find the good’ in life’s stumbling blocks. I don’t always succeed, but at least I try. This evening I was supposed to meet someone at 4:00 at Pt. Defiance. I left Lakewood at 3:30. At 3:55 I had just exited onto Pearl. No way am I gonna make it and no way I’m I gonna get another speeding ticket. Accept it. She’s already said her bus home doesn’t come until 4:30 so I’ve got some time. And then I hit EVERY SINGLE red light between

6^th Ave

& the zoo. One light I got stuck at twice because the fire truck, sirens red hot, came thru in the opposite direction. I start to get a bit ticked. I don’t ever like to be late. But as I park my car I realize I just got to hear one of my favorite songs all the way to the end, which always makes me smile. I stop singing, full volume, and go meet my appointment. She’s not upset at all.

The same evening, around 8:30 I decide to hop in the hot tub. I take a refreshment and the Stilleto* which Chris has just recently troubleshot and reactivated. I set the base on what I think is a safe spot. I’m hummin’ along, enjoying some mommy time, and being caught off guard by the occasional gust of wind on my face. It’s surprisingly stormy out there. All of a sudden I notice the blue light special going on in the water below. I’m having flashbacks of Close Encounters, (you know, when the mother ship starts flashing all sorts of intermittent lights and playing those 5 notes…). I can see the display screen, under water, showing me the song that’s playing (it’s Pet Shop Boys if you really must know) and I follow the blips and chirps until, soon…the abyss. This is bad! With my lightning fast reflexes slightly impaired, I pull the precious cargo from the water, pop the back off, remove that battery and set it all upside down. Dear Lord I hope it works tomorrow. I react by being pissed off. But soon I get myself back in check. (Really?! Gonna be pissed off that you were stupid enough to have an electronic device within 6” of the water, wind blowing, and you’re somehow surprised by the outcome?!) My initial reaction is to get out of the tub. But then I sat back and enjoyed the symphony that Mother Nature was giving me…for free! The gigantic maple tree in the back yard was groaning, the bird feeder (empty because the squirrels ate all the seeds) was swaying in the wind with the hinge squeaking, the windchimes where doing their job, a gust of wind would occasionally direct all the hot tub steam right in my face and leaves & helicopters were pelting the glass lean-to over the tub. I sat there for another ½ hour, until I turned into a giant prune and had to get out. As I type now, the screen keeps flickering, a power outage is looming…and I am ‘saving’ often. The wind is howling and I can hear branches and limbs falling throughout the neighborhood. (you KNOW if I can hear it, it is REALLY loud!)

I’m reminded of the saying “don’t sweat the small stuff”. We each define our own “small stuff” but I realize that my definition grows more broad (or is that broader?) with each passing day. Enjoy life while you can…and everything is small stuff…

*the Stiletto is the satellite radio equivalent to a WalkMan. It has dozens of channels, all available for a monthly fee, in a sleek handheld device. But it is not waterproof.

Christmas Memory - December 1996

Chris and I enjoyed a nice motorcycle ride today to Pt. Defiance, kicking up all kinds of leaves along the way. Got home and raked up a few more from our back yard when it hit me just how soon the holidays will be upon us. It also made me recall one of my best holiday memories ever.

 

December 1996, our last year as DINKs (that's Dual Income, No Kids in case you forgot). I was "out to here" pregnant with our first child, who we both assumed would be a boy...that's a whole other story...

 

Chris and I decide to go into the wilderness and chop down a perfectly good tree for display it in our living room. We don't want to push our luck so stop by the Park Ranger office in Lynnwood to purchase our tree permit as we travel from our home in Ballard on to the forest near Monte Cristo. It's a cold day but the roads are bare and dry, no snow. And for once, our car doesn't break down either. We spy plenty of nice traditional trees but one species catches both our eye. It's not like a Noble or Blue Spruce or Charlie Brown Christmas tree...neither of us know exactly what kind of tree it is. But we both like it and after a few strokes with the saw, she's secured on the top of our Cherokee. We begin our descent back to civilization and eventually pass a Park Ranger. He looks at us, up at the tree, back at us and then makes a motion for us to stop. Our hearts skip a beat. Boy are we glad we took time to buy that permit! He stops his rig even with Chris' driver window. "Hey there, do you know what kind of tree you got there?". "Ummm, actually...no. We have no idea." Chris replies. I am convinced we've unknowingly cut down a rare species and are soon going to be fined heavily or escorted to jail. He says "well, that's a Western Hemlock." (is it redundant to describe the following 10 seconds of silence as a pregnant pause?!) I'm not sure which of us spoke first but one of us finally pries our tongue off the roof of our mouthes to ask "is that bad?" The ranger replies, "No. But folks don't usually want them for Christmas trees. They dry out really fast and drop their needles just as quick!" We tell him we'll do our best to keep the tree happy and continue on our way. In my mind I start to conjure up every recipe I've ever heard on how to keep your tree moist: aspirin, sugar, honey, alka seltzer, the fancy packet they give you at the floral shop...I might just use ALL of them to make sure our tree makes it to Christmas day.

 

As we continue on our drive, part of us wants to toss the Western Hemlock off to the side of the road and cut down yet another perfectly good tree, one that's more suitable for a Christmas tree. But we decide to abide by the permit, which is good for ONE tree. We take our fragile cargo back home, decorate the hell out of it and hope for the best. I am a very olfactory-based gal and I comment that our tree has no scent whatsoever. Hopefully when it warms up it will start to smell like Christmas. We got the tree fairly late in the holiday season, within a week of Christmas if I recall. I had to work that week but Chris was fortunate enough to have a couple extra days off. I got up the next day and noticed there was still no holiday tree scent in the air. Off to work, the tree is the last thing on my mind. I get home and notice that the tree is sort of droopy and a bit, well...sad looking. This is not good. By the next morning as I head out the door for work there are approximately 4 pounds of tree needles on our carpet. I cannot believe my eyes. Our ornaments look ridiculous on our otherwise naked tree. Holy crap! That park ranger wasn't kidding! I am so sad. Remember, I am pregnant...I am HUGE...and I am an unstable mixture of emotions. My tree is dead, my house doesn't smell like Christmas, I have to work while hubby has a few days off...and I can't even have a beer! I cry all the way to work and feel like an idiot which makes me cry even harder.

 

The day over, I pull up into our driveway and notice a trail of tree needles from the front door down the walkway. I must've tracked those out when I left this morning. I open the front door and am instantly overcome with the smell of Christmas tree. What the?! I look to the corner where our Charlie Brown tree drooped this morning and in its place is a fully decorated, proud as you please, traditional Christmas tree. Again, I start bawling! I can only imagine how much time Chris spent undecorating and completely redecorating a new tree before I got home.

 

It will always be one of the best Christmas gifts ever and recalling his thoughtfulness and determination makes me tear up every time. I don't remember a single gift I received that particular Christmas but I will never forget our tree!

what's up with the blog name anyway?

mos: punctuation doesn't work with websites/blogsites so the apostophe and the capital letter in Mo's didn't either. I ended up with mos

minutia: precise details; small or trifling matters. This seemed appropriate and kept with the alliteration theme...easier to remember that way.

So Mo's Minutua ended up mosminutia

Cake Bakin' the Mo Way - May 26th, 2010

Well, here's another kitchen story that may just top the oven cleaning adventure from last winter. I hope you enjoy. I didn't make up a single thing!

 

At 7:30 tonight I began making what my pal Tina describes as an amazing chocolate cake. Very simple recipe and vegan to boot. I preheat the oven to 375 and start gathering all the ingrediants. All along I'm getting the groceries put away, wondering where our kitten has gone, putting stuff in the RV for the long weekend, opening the mail...you get the idea...multitasking. The instructions tell me to use an 8x8 pan or 9" round. I tear the pantry apart looking for my 8x8 Pyrex. After a few choice words I give up and go with the round. I think it's a 9"  but I'm not quite sure. I start sifting and mixing and measuring into my pan, which all of a sudden seems really small. I check the directions and I've still got 1-1/2 cups of liquid to add to it. Hmmm...go for it! Why dirty another pan? Not only am I pushing my luck with the volume of chocolately goodness, I'm curious what flavor the 2 tablespoons of vinegar are going to impart into this cake.

 

Well, what do you know...it all fit in the pan. I carefully balance my bulging pan in one hand, open the oven door with the other and set it on the low rack. Timer set for 30 minutes. I unload and load the dishwasher, take out the garbage. Odd smell now coming from the oven. I open it and nothing seems amiss. I close it and start a load of laundry. Something is not right. That smells funky. Not burning, not sugary...funky! I open the oven again and some smoke comes out. I'll admit I haven't cleaned the oven since the last time I tried so it's not exactly clean. I assume some left over treat is getting toasty. But gawd, it smells funky. I assume it's the chemical reaction caused by the vinegar and chocolate, right? After just a moment or two more I can't stand it. It smells like hot plastic. I finally open the oven door all the way and get down at rack level...where I see Sunday's breakfast sitting on the top rack. We had some lovely Belgian waffles and scrambled eggs, complete with the plastic serving spoon still in place. Shit! That explains it!

 

What is the first rule when turning on the oven? Make sure there's nothing in it!! Dumb Ass!

 

So I take the now singed waffles and the bowl with the slightly browned eggs out of the oven and into the sink. I take the cake (which looks like pudding at this point) out and let the oven air out for a moment. I close it back up & let it get back to temp. But I'll be damned if it doesn't start smoking again. What the F? I happen to look in the sink and notice that the handle on the plastic serving spoon is curved like Mt. Krumpet when it used to be straight. As a matter of fact, there's a solidified stream of plastic running down the bowl. I wonder where that stream led to...? Oh hell!

 

I open the oven again and see the black gooze, sizzling on the bottom of the oven. I take out the lower rack, grab some paper towels and wipe up the blob. It was nasty and toxic looking. After I got it cleaned up I looked at my pudding/cake pan. Dump it and start over or shove it back in the oven? Did it absorb toxic smoke? Will it taste bad? Do I have the motivation to start all over? I stuck my finger in it and tasted it. DEEEELISH! I opted to try it. I opened the oven several times during the bake to let out any residual smoke.

 

As soon as the cake is done I pull it out and immediately break off a chunk. No sense letting it cool if I'm just going to dump it, right?! 375 degrees is hot! The few unsinged tastebuds in my mouth are delighted to report the cake tastes great. No plastic aftertaste, no hint of toxic smoke. While the cake cools I begin making the topping. Mmmmm! More chocolate! By now I have eaten more sugar in 1 hour than I have in the entire previous week. I'm feeling a bit light headed and can't decide if I should blame it on the sugar, the smoke or what.

 

Daughter comes in and is perplexed by the chaos in the kitchen. I calmly turn and say "Aleah, what's the number 1 rule when you're going to cook something in the oven?" She immediately says "You always say 'make sure there's nothing in it'." Thank goodness she's not doomed to repeat this incident! She is fascinated by the Mt. Krumpet spoon but leaves quickly, muttering something about "that smell". I tell her to go clean the cat box.

 

The topping is ready and the cake is fairly cool. I fill the gap I created when I did my earlier taste test with the topping and then spread it over the rest of the cake. Oh my, it looks GOOD! But the recipe says to let it cool in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. So I open the fridge where I discover that my daughter has very kindly yet very creatively stashed all the stuff we just bought at Costco. If I move this, shift that, and balance the cake over here...oh shit, there go two containers of yogurt. One explodes all over the floor, the fridge, my shoe, my pants and probably the ceiling too.

 

By 9:35 the 6 Minute Vegan Chocolate Cake is cooling in the fridge. It is safely balanced between the milk carton and the V-8. As long as no one breathes and we don't have an earthquake in the next 1/2 hour, we should be fine.

 

I hope Chris and Devin are enjoying the Sounders game!

 

So who wants to try some cake?!

July 15th, 2010 Cooking Potato Salad With Mo

Tonight we are getting ready to leave for 5 days at Sun Lakes. One of the last things on my 'to do' list is to make potato salad. And let me tell you, I make a good one. This recipe has been handed down for 3 generations. I boil the potatoes. I boil the eggs. I chop the pickles (dill, NOT sweet!). I chop the black olives. As I'm chopping the cooled potatoes, daughter agrees to peel the eggs as long as she can eat one. Deal. I've dumped the pickles, olives and nearly all of the potatoes into my 14" Pyrex bowl. Back to the cutting board when BAM! The whole frickin' bowl EXPLODES! And I do mean EXPLODES! (Mom, remember the ham & oven explosion? This TOPS that!!) All my ingredients are sitting in a heap on my counter. The bowl is pretty much GONE! There are pieces of it EVERYWHERE. I stand there in a semi-catatonic state and repeat "Holy Shit!" over and over. Aleah, whose back had been towards me asks "what did you DO?!" I just stand there, dumbfounded.

 

I slowly come to the realization that the previous hour I've spent boiling, chopping and salivating are for not. There is no saving this. There are slivers, shards and chunks of Pyrex bowl EVERYWHERE. I yell to Chris "Hey, when there's a break in the Sounders' match you need to come see this." He comes up and immediately his ceramic engineering hat comes on. He proceeds to tell me just why and how the bowl "catastrophically failed" and how the stresses built up... meanwhile, I'm still coming to grips with the fact the potato salad that I've been looking forward to all week is ruined. I think my eyes start to water. I am getting PISSED! He generously offers to re-make it for me. I explain that I used up all the potatoes. He offers to go buy more. I just shake my head. He knows this is the time where "Mo needs to be left alone". As he retreats back to the t.v. he sweetly states that he will come back and clean up after the explosion, as soon as the match is over. I just grunt. I simply can't leave all this glass all over while the cats and kids are running around with no shoes on. Slowly I start to pick up the pieces, literally, until I feel somewhat confident no one will cut an artery.

 

A grin soon spreads across my face. I'm technically "on vacation" after all and it's only some potato salad. I wish I could watch a replay of the explosion though. And while I'm still bummed out about the outcome, it's darn near insignificant in the overall scheme of things. Just then Chris comes back up and sees that I've already cleaned the kitchen. "I knew you wouldn't listen to me". I'm sure he thought I was still pissed but I assured him I was "all done" and now just completely amazed by what happened to the bowl.

 

I'm off to the store to buy a nice, pre-packaged bag of coleslaw. But let this be a warning to you. If your Pyrex bowls are say, 15 years old, and you routinely use an electric mixer in them, subject them to hot and cold extremes and run them through the dishwasher, you may want to consider replacing them.

 

Happy cooking everyone! After this latest episode, I really am surprised anyone eats anything I make!

a catchy little tune you should hear - Eric Bibb singing The Cape

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIECz7Y01-U

I've heard this a song couple times on my satelite radio and FINALLY caught the details. After hearing this youtube version, which features much more guitar than the 'studio' version, I think I'm going to have to buy one of his discs. Hope you enjoy it! It's kid friendly and mother approved :-)

a typical family weekend

Friday October 22, 2010

My day began at 5:00 a.m. this morning following a very bad dream. Could't go back to sleep so got up and and let the day begin. As I headed towards home around 5:00 p.m., I had already had a pretty long day. Ha! The 'day' had only just begun...

 

This evening was supposed to be "get ready for our son's 10th birthday party" night. Should be fairly relaxing with a few chores added it. He is to have a few friends over tomorrow so they can shoot each other with paint balls in our back yard, eat pizza and play video games. Easy! Before I can even get home tonight though hubby has already told me that he hasn't heard from our daughter, who was supposed to be home right after school, and can't reach her on her cell phone. Her plans around practice/study hall/social life had changed a few times so I'm not too worried. And coming from ME, that's really saying something! She is fine and indeed, got stuck doing some team chores at school. When I finally walk in the door the house is unusually quiet except for boy child asking me where dad is. How the hell should I know, I just got home?! He goes on to tell me that daddy, while trying to clear some pathways for the boys' pending OK Corral shootout, got stung by a bee. "Well, really he got stung 3 times on his head, once on his butt and then twisted his ankle." Oh no. This isn't good. Ironically, I mentioned this very thing to him earlier this morning - something about "I hope the wasps are sleeping for the winter or that no one is allergic to them!" Nice going, mom! 

 

"Have you seen dad since he got stung?" I ask little man. "No." As far as I know my hubby isn't allergic to bees so I'm not too concerned...yet. Likely he's got the chainsaw out back and is just really pissed off that some wasp had the nerve to sting him...multiple times. I do the rounds, stopping to grab a round on my way, and can't find him anywhere. The light is on in the RV...but no. Hot tub? No. The throne? No. I yell out the back door. Nothing. I am just barely starting to imagine him swelled up like Bear Gyrills in that episode where he smokes the bees out of the hive but still gets stung all to hell and turns into a...well, I don't know what to compare it to. But it's not pretty. As I walk into the back yard, passing by the apparently empty can of Wasp and Hornet killer, eventually I see him in the back with loppers in hand. There's some white stuff caked on the back of his head and I'm sure it's a leaf or bird crap. Then he turns around! Hello Bear Gyrills! His left eye is swollen but good. He's got a concoction of meat tenderizer and Epsom salt shlopped onto his temple and forehead and of course, the back of his head. I don't know whether to turn and run or hug him. He's on a mission, hobbling on the ankle he twisted running from the wasp nest earlier. He's determined to finish blazing the trail AND take the girls and himself shopping for a few things. (That's a whole other story by itself!) I offer to take his list, and the girls, and let him relax. "No thanks..not really sure what I'm shopping for..."

 

While he and the girls are out shopping, birthday boy and I clean house for the party. When I go vacuum the living room, in addition to the disgusting amount of dust I see, I also spy some white clumps on "hubby's recliner". What the...? I get closer with my eyes, but no touchy. This stuff is like the Bonneville Salt Flats. Why is it in such distinct blobs? Where have I seen this stuff before...?! Oh wait! On my husband's head and face. I decide to leave it there for two reasons: words couldn't describe it to him and I'm fairly sure he's going to put more of the stuff on when he gets home Why clean it now? Plus, it will make for a really good conversation starter tomorrow.

 

He gets home 2 hours later, still fairly swollen, and takes up residence in said recliner. (Did I call that or what?!) I get him some ice packs for his feet/ankle, some ibuprofen for the pain/swelling, offer him Benadryl and then immediately offer to go get some because we're out and then the obvious question...do you need a beer? Duh!

 

As he's resting birthday boy convinces us (big sisis staying at her friend's house) to watch a 'surprise movie'. I've got some ironing to do so could enjoy being distracted by a movie and even daddy is up to it. Hubby usually makes a wicked batch of popcorn for us on movie nites but I insist on giving him a break. He mentions that he doesn't even want any, which opens up some possibilities. You see, man child is a 'LOTS of butter and SALT" guy. daughter really likes butter & parmesian. Little man likes anything that someone else made. And I like to expirament. So tonight I decide to make two small batches: one traditional and one with a unique blend of Tabasco and parmesian cheese. Since I'm "watching what I eat/drink" there's no butter involved on my batch. I'm feelin' good. But have you ever mixed parmesian cheese onto popcorn without the benefit of butter?! It all goes to the bottom. My last few bites were a delectable paste made of hot sauce and cheese. If you were a really desparate vegetarian you may be able to convince yourself that this was a delicious hot wing. But probably not. The majority of the popcorn was bland and dry, save for the few kernals that ended up missing my mouth but connecting with my WHITE shirt square on! I sure hope that comes out in the wash! This Sounders jersey was NOT cheap!

 

The popcorn, substituting for dinner tonight, left much to be desired. For those of you who don't know me 'that' well, I frickin' love nachos! And I was still hungry after the hot wing popcorn. Below is one of the most unique round of nachos I've ever made. All said, I am especially proud of all the leftovers I used...

 

Start with 1/3 cup of the leftover salsa from tacos 4 nites ago

add that to the 1/2 cup of "fake taco hamburger" you seasoned for your vegetarian daughter when you could only find fajita seasoning

(you could warm it up at this pont like I did, and then eventually wonder why you bothered)

grab the nicely browned "because someone squeezed it out of the plastic bag" guacamole

add the few remaining teaspoons of black beans

and top with the 2 tablespoons of corn tortilla chips (a.k.a. crumbs) in the pantry
mix well...really well...grab some Tums...and enjoy

 

Believe it or not, the nachos (sans the full sized chips) were quite tasty. I think I'll remember them all weekend.

 

Meanwhile I heat up the iron, grab the shirts & set out...full steam ahead of course. I haven't burnt myself on an iron in 15 years. But tonight...on the last shirt...number 13 if you're counting, I decide to rest the iron on my ring finger knuckle. I am so expecting this by this point that I don't react at all. I just pick up the iron, flick off the skin graft and finish up. Does anyone do their own ironing anymore?!

 

This is only the beginning I fear. It's just 11:00 on Friday night. Hubby has just hobbled to bed asking for nothing more than an ice pack and a kiss. Devin's soccer game tomorrow afternoon should be interesting, let alone the paintball war that is to follow.

 

 

Saturday

8:00 a.m. Hubby woke up with nothing more than a slit of an eye. I go out to get us coffee, grab some Benadryl and start his dosing. Birthday boy wakes up with a kink in his neck, likely from sleeping in a pretzel position on the couch while playing Halo. The rain holds out for most of his soccer game, but they end up losing a tight match. The birthday party gets under way with a safety debrief and target practice. The boys are dressed in every assortment of protection from ski pants to flightsuit stuffed with a life vest. Eventually someone dares one of the others to be a human target...and one of the boys actually agrees! Nicholas stands there bravely and takes 3-4 shots before raising his hand in "I surrunder" mode. He immediately begins taking off his mask while the other 4 boys still have their guns locked and loaded. "Put IT BACK ON!!!" all the parents scream. Thankfully no shots were fired. Not to be outdone another brave soldier stands in for a few shots, followed by my hubby. Chris has nothing more than sweats, a t-shirt, a rainjacket and his facemask/helmet on. He shrugs off the shot to the arm but the direct shot to the face triggers "I surrender". His jacket shows the color of the paintballs moreso than any of the other boys'...a mixture of ketchup, mustard and seagull crap. The experienced parents swear it'll wash right out but I'm not so sure. It looks absolutely disgusting! We open presents, eat pizza, cake and soda and the boys start to unwind. The parents them playing a mixture of pool, darts and Halo. I head off to bed but am slightly distracted by the volume of t.v., voices and pool balls hitting the floor. No worries. I pop out the hearing aid and fall asleep within 30 seconds. No one pounded on our door, there was no blood or bad dreams and no one barfed. I'd call the party a sucess so far!

 

Sunday

8:00 a.m. I go get coffee again, come back and start making waffles. It's pouring outside! Jacob tells me that his mom is coming to bring him more clothes (a.k.a padding) and he'll just run out, in his sox, when she pulls up. I try to convince him to at least put his shoes on. "I have 3 pair so it's OK.' "That's not the point, kiddo. Your sox are meant to go in shoes, not in the rain and oil in our driveway." But I get distracted before his mom pulls up and before I know it he's coming back in with a bag full of clothes. "Hey, my mom thinks my finger's broken..." as he heads down to join the boys. "WHAT?! Wait! What finger? Show me!" He can bend it, clentch it, and elaborate with it so I'm not too worried. But unfortunately, this same kid got hit straight-on in the hand, not once but twice, during the paintball war. Of all the bad luck! This is the only bare skin any of the boys have exposed. And poor Jacob takes two direct shots! He was tough and didn't even shed a tear. Meanwhile I'm expecting CPS to knock on my door any time!

 

I took some good pix of the boys with the "this stuff tastes disgusting" paint ball evidence. In between I started making a couple recipes for a cookoff at work tomorrow. All agree the wild mushroom pumpkin soup looks, and tastes, like baby food. The baked stuffed pumpkins are looking promising though. And a new recipe for pumpkin seeds...a bit of olive oil instead of butter (thanks, Shannon!) and some fajita seasoning tastes yummy!

 

After watching the Seahawks win and generally trying to straighten up after the party in between, we are all pretty exhausted. But I'm farily sure I watched our little boy turn into a young man before my very eyes over the course of the weekend. It's bittersweet...but it was bound to happen. Enjoy them while you can!

 

Hope you've enjoyed this little insight into our weekend. No one went to the hospital. It's all good!