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Sorry, kids. I’ve been waylaid by life. But who can’t smile after last week’s incredible and staggering election results? I have resisted telling certain people to bite me, but I’m hopeful that I’ll have my chance. ūüėČ

Yesterday I finally discovered the most perfect recipe for meatloaf. Before you ask, no, I didn’t shape it like a question mark. But there’s always hope. But I feel as though a very miniscule chunk of my life has fallen into place. I’ve been searching and searching for a great meatloaf recipe for ages, because let’s face it: Meatloaf is comfort food, through and through. My husband declared this one “Light. Usually your meatloaf is more brick-like.” I’ll take it as the compliment it was intended to be. ūüôā

I have been in a funk lately. I think part of it is realizing that I need to make some serious changes in my life. I need organization. I need motivation. I need to turn thoughts into action. I’m like Hamlet, only not nearly as interestingly tragic. But I’m not sure where to start. And I’m not really, truly sure what courses of action to take. But I’m getting there. I hope.

And so we come to the funny part of this little missive. If you know me, you know that I HEART Christopher Guest. And if you don’t know who that is, watch A Mighty Wind. Waiting for Guffman. Best in Show. And my all-time favorite, This is Spinal Tap. It’s comedy that’s not stupid, and it makes me laugh. It is, to quote the film, “a fine line between stupid and clever.” Anyway, the other day I was surfing along, looking for Christmas toys, and I found these.


Go ahead. Click on them. I can’t imagine how much fun those would be after a few margaritas. You could pull them out and start spouting things like “Well, it’s one louder, isn’t it?” and “He was the patron saint of quality footwear.”

I’m cracking myself up now. It’s time to go.


I’m watching Ghost Adventures on the Travel Channel. My husband laughs at me for doing this and thinks I’m kind of gullible, but he also laughed yesterday when I told him there’s an OB-GYN named Dr. Harry C. Beaver practicing near Washington, DC…and I was right. I can’t imagine keeping a straight face while seeing Dr. Harry Beaver for an exam…but anyway. The point is,¬†Ghost Adventures is¬†interesting and kind of titillating, and frankly, I would rather watch this than the stupid Speed Channel. Harumph.

Anyway, tonight they’re locked inside Moundsville State Penitentiary in Moundsville, WV. I went to grad school in West Virginia (and yes, I know all the jokes), so I googled the penitentiary and learned that while it no longer houses prisoners, it is open for both daytime and overnight tours. And while reading about these tours, I saw this little announcement.

Beginning January 2007, Prison Tours will be closed all HOLIDAYS.

Damn it all. There goes Christmas.


Every now and then, my brain just spews out a phrase that I like. Here are this week’s brain-children.

slovenly man-living
As in “Now that he’s engaged, he will be saved from the slovenly man-living that has plagued him for the past few years.”

evangelical tie
As in “So, this guy was driving around my neighborhood in a Taurus, carrying a bible and wearing the most evangelical tie you could possibly imagine.” Because, you know, some ties are only worn by door-to-door evangelists.

Just thought I’d share. ūüėČ

I will freely admit that I sometimes don’t think things through as thoroughly as I should. But this isn’t entirely my fault.

Last Friday I found frozen turkeys on a mad sale at the grocery store. If you’re not in the know, 59 cents a pound for a turkey is a good damn deal. So I bought a turkey and brought it home and put it in the fridge to defrost.

And defrost, and defrost.

This morning I pulled it out, since today was really the only day this week I had time to fix a turkey and its accouterments for dinner. And when I say “time,” I mean “I had to cook this turkey today before it went bad and I felt guilty about wasting an entire turkey.” Anyway, it was still largely frozen.

This leads to an important question. What the hell is happening in the world of turkey processing that makes a turkey remain frozen nearly a week after it leaves the freezer? I ask you. It’s unsettling.

Vegetarians, just stop reading now. I beg you.

Anyway, I sliced open the wrapper, held the turkey by the wings, and, in a delicate little dance, balanced its legs in the plastic bag-lined drain of my sink so that I could steady it as I washed off the ice. Good to go, right? Oh, fudge. The giblets. The everloving giblets. Seriously. Sweet Jesus, the giblets.

I would love to meet the person who said, hey, let’s boil this bird’s internal organs until they have all the appeal of disemboweled intestines¬†and then chop them up for human consumption. I would ask them what in the world they were thinking.¬†I also would happily pay more for a giblet-free turkey. But that’s beside the point. The point is, the giblet bag was trapped inside the bird, frozen to the sides. I managed to pry it loose, cringing all the while lest my finger puncture the bag and I find myself knuckle-deep in a tangle of gizzard and heart (because, while the bag was frozen to the turkey, the giblets were, oddly enough, defrosted and quite squishy). I then realized that I still had to pull out the neck. And the neck was…you guessed it…frozen to the inside of the turkey. After a week of defrosting in the fridge.

So there I am, elbow-deep in a still-semi-frozen turkey, tugging at the slimy and recalcitrant neck, trying to keep the four-year-old from hearing the profanity, when it hits me how ridiculous this whole situation is. Why the hell didn’t I just buy some chicken breasts?¬†I can cook, I can bake, I can write and edit and proofread, and I can fold laundry…I have nothing to prove by cooking a turkey on a Thursday in the wee days of October. Anyway, the neck finally came free and went into the trash. With the giblets.

I don’t know what my issue is, but I seriously underestimated how long it would take to cook this thing. We didn’t have dinner until 8 tonight, and as I was carving the turkey, I began to wonder if it was done. It was, I know it was, but I felt the need to put it back in the oven for a while. Dry turkey beats a salmonella-laden turkey, any day of the week. And as I was trying to juggle the turkey, along with mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, Brussels sprouts, etc., etc., etc., the boy was begging for attention, I was hot, I was in a rotten mood, and I was yelling a little too much. And the mixer went belly-up in the middle of mashing the potatoes.

Oh, and my husband was “taking a shower,” which I have learned is a euphemism for “nice relaxing nap.”

So, blah, blah, blah, I now have something like 10 pounds of dry leftover turkey in the fridge, I’m kind of miserable, and I¬†realize that I should have chucked the turkey, ordered a pizza, and had¬†a much more enjoyable night. Lesson learned.

This is why I don’t host Thanksgiving at my house, ever.

Gobble, gobble.

So, lately I have seen the buzz phrase “the Sarah Palin Kool-Aid.” My own father is apparently drinking it by the pitcher, diabetes be damned, even though she has nothing of substance to say and even though¬†the bar is set so low for her that simply not effing up is a victory. So on top of everything else, I’m pondering how I dropped from that tree. But anyway, honestly (and for once), I’m not going on a political rant. The aforementioned phrase, coupled with some recent events of late, have made me think of real, actual Kool-Aid.

Remember Kool-Aid? The creepy talking pitcher that crashed every conceivable kid-related event while shouting its trademark “Oh, yeahhhhhhh!” catchphrase? No? Okay, then. We have a serious generation gap. Watch this and get back to me.

For most of my contemporaries, a non-talking pitcher of Kool-Aid was a constant in the fridge, and millions of Strawberry Shortcake and Benji and Happy Days thermoses were filled every morning with the stuff. My mom must have gotten some sort of super closeout steal on green Kool-Aid when I was in fourth grade, because she packed it for me every blessed day, even though the carcinogenic ADD-causing red flavors were clearly superior. In the summer, my siblings and I happily mixed up gallons of Kool-Aid, drank it, and occasionally froze it in plastic molds to make bastardized Popsicles. I still remember the recipe: mix 8 cups water, 1 cup sugar, and a packet of Kool-Aid, being careful not to get the powder on wet fingers lest it stain them for days.

The reason I bring all this up is that my kid will turn 5 in less than a month, and up until a few weeks ago, he had no idea that Kool-Aid even existed. That might still be the case had we not taken a fateful trip to Royal Farms for an after-school drink. He saw little plastic bottles of Kool-Aid in the cooler, inquired, and wore me down. He was hooked from the first sip.

I’m not the most stringent person when it comes to feeding my kid, mainly because he happily drinks water, eats broccoli, and begs to devour an entire canteloupe before your eyes. I figure (most) everything in moderation, and it all balances out. But he also eats a few too many hot dogs (see below, the ones wrapped in biscuits) and Happy Meals. Still, I try. I refuse to consider the Lunchables he begs me to buy, I water down juice, and I try to save soda for special occasions or particularly yucky medicine. Yet tonight, during an impromptu trip to the dollar store, I gave in when he asked for a six-pack of little Kool-Aid bottles and promised that yes, sometime we can buy Kool-Aid we can make ourselves at home.

I’m not sure what the deal is with me. I’m trying to find a comfort zone somewhere smack in the middle of “organic flax seed” and “Smuckers Uncrustables” (ick). I would still buy organic milk and eggs if¬†they¬†weren’t now $9 a gallon and $5 a dozen, but¬†I would want to add some chocolate to the milk and some cheese to the eggs.¬†I¬†have to confess that I would love to mix up a big pitcher of Tropical Punch Kool-Aid, using the whole cup of sugar…but something inside me fights it. I would like to see him with the red moustache, though. ūüėČ

Or maybe I’m just thinking about it entirely too much. Oh, yeah.

Even though I’m a freelancer, I subscribe to Monster and Career Builder just to see if there are any opportunities I can’t pass up. In return, I receive several e-mails a week announcing jobs that I’m qualified to do.

Just now, I received one with a whole slew of jobs. One of them was “surgeon.”

Yes. Must dig out the resume.

I do enjoy slicing and dicing…but only words. Got it? It made me laugh, though. ūüôā

So, I received this in an e-mail today from someone I very much love and admire. The title was “Prayer can move mountains, why not Obama?”

Being dismayed recently when a family member of mine said to me with great resignation that Obama will take the presidency. These words came from someone who in the past has been a great prayer warrior.
What is happening was my question???  Why are we Christians settling and not issuing a battle cry and falling to our knees and taking our country back?
We allow ourselves to be stripped of the right to pray at school functions and in school, we have the 10 commandments removed from government places and are told we cannot pray in school, all the while providing public prayer places for Muslims.  What in the world is going on and why are we being apathetic?
Why aren’t we praying? ¬†Our God is a mighty God who is waiting patiently for us to raise our voices to heaven to stop the tide of the anti-Christ actions in our world today. ¬†Now we find we have a charismatic candidate for president who does not respect our flag and refuses to wear one on his lapel except when it becomes politically expedient and whose own wife and pastor that he loves profess to have strong anti-white feelings, and we sit back and say “it is a given, we can do nothing.”

There has never been a time in 2000 years that we can do nothing, never a time that we must sit back and allow the evil in men’s and women’s hearts to take over our world. ¬†We should be very afraid because our apathy is leading us to perdition. ¬†

It is time for all Christian Americans to raise the battle cry and take our nation back. ¬†Maybe McCain on his own cannot defeat Obama, but our God can and He will if we take to our knees in prayer and raise a mighty cry to the heavens to “Save us O Lord.” ¬†We have the power t o change the course of this election and to keep a man as suspect as Barak Obama from leading our country to who knows where with his message of “change” – a change which I fear will be away from our Christian ideals and away from Christ and further away from one nation under God.

We are great at passing stories and pictures around the internet, but where are our prayers and prayer warriors praying to stop this tide of Barak Obama? ¬†God parted the red sea, Jesus raised himself from the dead, and we can bring our country back to its Christian roots and stop the move to the rise of Muslims in our country. ¬†We can stop our country from being “under Allah,” but we must begin to pray, to pray as if our country and our lives depended on it, because they do. ¬†We can stop all these atrocities against God’s commands that have taken root in our country through something as simple as sincere prayer, a call to God to deliver us, to forgive us our sins of apathy an d to protect us from the evil that is upon us.

Okay prayer warriors, here is your challenge, start those prayer chains.  Get the spiritual power working on our behalf and stop Barak Obama the proper way, by calling on our God to save us from the deception that charismatic preaching is using to lead us on the wrong path.  Stop  those who would take God out of our country and our government.  Raise up good men to lead us and protect us.

George Bush is being buffeted because he has fought a holy war against the evils that attack us and we should not be surprised because a prophet is not honored in his own country.  But we should not rest on our laurels and allow ourselves to be taken further off the path of Christianity and to have God removed from our presence in our schools, courts, government and businesses.  Invite God into the fray.  Ask that His power rest upon us and give us the victory.  Ask him to raise up a mighty arm y to defend us and to protect our country as he did in days of old.  Let us be victorious beginning NOW.  The battle is His but we must call on Him without ceasing and unite our voices and hearts in prayer and fasting.

Please pass this around to all people of prayer that you know and maybe, just maybe a more eloquent person of prayer will write something better and more inspiring and even the rocks will shout that Jesus is Lord and our Mighty God is with us, bringing the victory for us and ultimately for Him.

At¬†first I thought, you know,¬†you have¬†GOT to be kidding me. But the more I thought about it, the more completely pissed off I got. Aside from being full of untruths, this e-mail is so offensive I just don’t know how to process it. I’m not the most politically correct person in the world, but Jesus. So, naturally, my next reaction was what the FUCK?

I just want to tell the person who forwarded it to me…and the people who forwarded it to her…that if they look beyond their own stupid noses, they’ll see that America is not an entirely white and entirely Christian nation infiltrated by the insidious Muslim. Good grief. We’re a global nation, comprised of people from all different backgrounds. You don’t want to be shoehorned into their religion? Fine. Just don’t expect them to be shoehorned into yours. And please, realize that just because you happen to be Christian (though you’re not really practicing its tenets too well here…), everyone else on earth is not¬†obligated to be the same. I don’t believe that you should have to make so many concessions not to offend someone that you feel guilty celebrating your holiday of choice, but neither should that person be made to feel as though he or she is a freak for not celebrating it. It’s a fine line. But this? This is racist. It doesn’t take into account the separation between church and state, AT ALL. George Bush is fighting a holy war? Give me a motherfucking break.

So, that’s what I wanted to say. What I actually did was acknowledge that we agreed to disagree on this issue, and ask that I be excluded from any future political e-mails, because this one is untrue and so offensive. Yeah, I know. It’s a cop-out. But I’m tired. I’m tired of trying to defend what is, to me, the logical choice to people who believe that God and politics can’t be separated, who are willing to believe twisted facts, and who want to call upon a God who supposedly urged people to “judge not, lest ye be judged” to keep the best presidential candidate of my entire generation out of office because he’s not the whitest of white bread. You know damn well that’s what it boils down to. So I’m done with it. You vote your conscience. I’ll vote mine. And we’ll see who most people agree with come November.






That’s the sound of me, right now. Despite a dinner of carbs, I’m wired.

I try hard to be a local-coffee-shop kind of gal, but today I was tired after hitting the grocery store, and the boy wanted a milkshake, and he’s been sick, so…

I drove through McDonald’s. I tried an iced mocha. Holy shiz. Chocolate. Coffee. Whipped cream. More chocolate. Cold. These are a few of my favorite things.

And now my husband has put a cup of coffee in my hand. Zing. Yum. I could go on with the adjectives, but I think the point is made.

You know, I’m thinking of adding a new category for blog posts. That category would be “disturbing shit I could go the rest of my life without seeing.”

Because if I add that category, then I can properly assign it to this.

Yeah. Stop rubbing your eyes. It’s exactly what you think it is. And you can see it in all its (forgive the pun) corny glory–because honestly, aside from being completely unqualified for the office of vice president, Sarah Palin is the very definition of corny, and not in a good way–by going here: ¬†

¬†I have never understood the appeal of the corn maze. Is walking through a bunch of moldering corn stalks supposed to make me feel hearty, as though I’m a pioneer lost in a field that will surely claim me if I don’t make it out by dark? Is there some thrill of terror, that maybe a chainsaw-wielding maniac (though why you would need a chainsaw in a field of corn is beyond me) will spring forth and chase me farther and farther into the maze until I drop of exhaustion and can be properly dismembered? Besides, there are always a bunch of spare cobs lying around that are just super for stepping on and spraining your ankle. Add this little bit of artwork to the mix and it’s some downright disturbing shit.

Anyway, I challenge all you Ohioans to boycott the Palin corn maze. It’s nothing but a vast right-wing conspiracy. ūüėČ

Or just prone to the power of suggestion? A little backstory, if you will.

My boys love pierogies. I admit to being partial to them, too. They’re potatoes. They’re pasta. They’re a carb-laden comfort food good time. And if you add a little hot sauce, a little sour cream…hoo yeah. If you’ve never had one, they look like this.

Well, ours look similar to that. Omit the onion, because if my husband ate an onion, he would surely perish. And nix the garnish because, well, that’s just too fancified.

Anyway, my mother-in-law gave me a bag of burgers from her freezer, so I decided to fix them for dinner. I usually fix fries with burgers, or something equally gluttonous, like macaroni and cheese. And, just as an aside, folks, it’s macaroni and cheese, or MAYBE mac and cheese. It is NOT mac ‘n chz, mac ‘n’ cheez, or mac-n-chz. Jeez. It’s no wonder most eighth-graders can’t read. But back to the eventual point…

I looked in the freezer for fries and stumbled upon the corner of a box of pierogies. I got distracted, closed the freezer, and started thinking that maybe, just maybe, pierogies and burgers would would work together. I thought, hey, I’m onto something unusual here. So I pulled out the box. And there, on the front of the box, was a picture of the pierogies…next to a cheeseburger. See?

So I’m no innovator. I just file away suggestions and reprocess them as my own thoughts. Isn’t that special?

December 2018
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