The Foodie Thing

I used to really enjoy doing to foodie thing. I would take pictures of the fun things I made, go into intricate detail about the time consuming or heart warming reason for the food, and then bask in the glory of fresh homemade. It was good. I miss it. Now, it seems that I have been very busy with kids and house and even the dog while the little things get away from me. In my opinion taking a picture of a casserole is about as pristine as taking a picture of a compost bin. Sure, it's a good idea to have one but nobody really needs to see it. So, without further ado, I have taken a food porn picture for you all in honor of the simplicity of my current cooking needs.

Recipe
One box cake mix, oil, eggs, milk
1/2 can frosting
handful of chocolate chips

Now, you will need two extra helpers to encourage extra messiness. In my home we assign these jobs as "the dumper" and "the mixer". The dumper is best reserved for the youngest of your volunteers as the mixer is likely to shoot cake mix all over your walls. The younger the mixer, the further the cake mix will go. I also think it is best to keep an extra stash of chocolate chips set aside for the dumper and mixer so as to distract when it's not their turn. Without these extra chips you will likely spend a good portion of your time explaining sharing and kindness among siblings.

Begin your task by preheating your really magnificent double convection oven that you purchased on sale last year and have somehow fallen deeply in love with. Next, dump your ingredients, mix your mix, and pour into a buttered bunt pan. Bake until done. Pull out of the oven and allow to sit for a few moments. Now, while the cake is warm, flip it over onto your best antique cake plate and heat up that half of a can of white frosting that you have had sitting in your refrigerator for a week or so. Drizzle over the top of the cake and decoratively place chocolate chips on top while still warm to make them shiny. Pat the dumper and mixer on the head and thank them for all of the extra help they have provided. Voila! A cake that you will be proud to take pictures of although a little bit embarrassed to share the recipe. On second thought, does this thing look like a giant doughnut?

The used car salesman in me

I recently came to the conclusion that it is time to part with what some may say is the most dated couch in history. It's light blue with little yellow specks and highly traditional. It really goes well with our awful green carpet but, that is another post entirely. My father called me one day on the phone knowing that I was in need of a couch to fill a space in my living room saying, "Robin, I think I've found a couch that you are going to love. It's just YOU!". This was the day that I realized my father may think I'm old, tired, and dated but that aside, I reluctantly accepted so as not to hurt his feelings, be grateful for his thoughtfulness, and fill this space.

I drove my mini van to the location of the home where the couch had resided for the last 20 or so years and shortly after paying for it, the men in the most manliest of manly ways hoisted it into the back and busted the leg right in half. Now, I officially owned an ugly broken couch that would require some repair. I took it home, cursed it, repaired it, cursed it again, and placed it in the location. GAWD it is ugly. Have I mentioned how much I do not like this couch?

Finally, what this post is all about. I have had the couch for about 10 months. I still hate it and it only grows on me the way black mold grows under a house and eventually kills it's occupants. One morning I decided to put an add up on craigslist and BOOM, it was sold. A lovely woman and her two brothers, lovers, husbands, not sure what this set up was came over and paid me half of my asking price with the stipulation they would pick it up later in the week and pay for the rest. I told them about the leg, they messed with it, it passed the "Wiggle test" and all was well. That was until....

My buyer called to tell me she would be at the house in about an hour for pick up. I decided to check in between the cushions for toys, money, precious heirloom paintings, you know the usual, before sending it on it's way. Yes, one penny and yes, JACKPOT! Then, what should happen when I moved the couch an inch or so? CRACK! My repair was crap and the original "wiggle test" had apparently weakened my work. It broke again. I panicked. I just couldn't keep this couch. NO! It had to go and I had a buyer. I raced to the garage for the drill, some long screws, and some L brackets. I had to work quickly. How would I explain the couch being set upside down in the middle of my living room with me hovering over it with a drill and screws if they showed early? With a quick buzz, screw, buzz, screw, disapproving look from my husband and a very sturdy and stronger repair later it was fixed and flipped right side up. It even passed the "wiggle" test.

They rang the doorbell as I was sweeping up sawdust and I very coolly invited them in. "be careful with that repaired leg" I cautioned, "even though it's strong it has been broken". They paid me and kindly removed the atrocity from my home. FREEDOM!. My son even suggested we install a disco ball and make the living room into a dance party location. I'm still thinking about it.

Hooked him, and boy was he a squirmer

If you didn't read my last post then you may not understand this one. Bait and Hook

My husband came home from work last night and walked directly OVER the box. Say what? That's right, he walked right past it. I had made a lovely dinner and I was looking oh so pretty so I like to think that all of my distractions may have had something to do with it. We had a nice dinner, even though a box was just sitting in the middle of the hall, and I finished up the dishes. Then we headed upstairs to get the kids ready for bed and I thought I would invite him to check out my new banner and background on my blog. If you are thinking "set up", you are right.

He complemented my work and then noticed my post. "Hey, is that about me?" he asked. I giggled and said yes. He began to read and quickly defended himself with "You never asked!" Then I told him I had only asked once and asked if he would like to continue reading. He claimed he was too tired to read and proceeded downstairs to remove the box that had sat in the hallway for the last week or so. VICTORY! Oh, and one other thing, he even moved a box that had only been sitting next to the garbage for a day or two. Now, why oh why do we have so many boxes? I can't really explain this other that a small homeless mansion building project I have been considering. (oh that was tasteless and yes I feel kind of bad)

You know, in retrospect, it seemed like a pretty big endeavor for a little old box but it was the principle of the matter. Perhaps I have educated my hubby just a bit further on my quirky needs and he will not need to be reminded again. Now to get him to leave the snow shovel in the garage and not just inside the front door. Sometimes I ask myself if he was raised in a barn, but as a child of turkey farmers I can only answer, mostly.

Bait and Hook

O.K. the trap has been baited. When my husband walks through the door from work this evening he will have no choice but to step right into the empty box that I asked him to remove a week or so ago. Heaven forbid he move it to the side and continue on through as I am a highly hormonal and volatile woman at this point. I mean it. One moment I'm the happiest woman that ever lived and the next I flip the switch! I may just set it on fire right in the middle of the living room.

I know, I know, you are all saying, just move the box, make things easy. NO! If I do that then it just reinforces that he can ignore my requests and I will just do it anyway. I don't want to be that sighing, nagging, walked on woman. I'm taking a stand. I seriously only asked once and I know he heard me because he acknowledged my request with a grunt. Ugh is agreement in man/caveman language right? Now, I just wait quietly and continue to not be a nag. Oh, and I set traps.

So, in conclusion, since I no longer work outside of the home, I believe the house has man work and woman work. Man work entails taking out the trash, (empty box) shoveling the driveway, complementing my darned good cookin', and mowing the lawn. Women work is housecleaning, decorating, cooking, and pretty much anything else the man pretends he doesn't know how to do or in all honesty doesn't do well.

All right, since I do not have much more time for this trap setting tomfoolery, I must go and beautify myself for his arrival this evening. I shall be irresistible and beautiful and smell good with a clean house. Then, when he argues or hangs his head and walks back towards the box he will have no choice but to only be smitten with his beautiful and talented wife. I may even brush my teeth. Oh yeah, I'm a sexy woman. Woot woot.

Hello, my name is Robin and I am a child of the 80's......Hi Robin

I was getting ready to throw a yoga video into the DVD this afternoon when I had a funny flashback. I wonder if my children will remember me trying to focus and breath and stretch the way I remember my mom doing her exercise. Being a child of the 80's had some very funny perks in retrospect, as did most other era's I imagine.

I remember getting up in the morning after my dad had gone to work and putting on my red and white striped leotard with red tights and leg warmers. My sister would complement me with her matching purple striped leotard, purple tights, and leg warmers. Then we would roll around on the floor next to my mom doing some sort of body electric stretching and jostling that would complete the mornings exercise. We were careful, of course, not to roll over onto our precious Atari 800 because we knew we would have a fun filled evening of "Miner 49er" ahead of us. Ahh yes, these were the days before Jazzercise hit the roller rink and Madonna was feeling oh so pure.

As the thoughts of snap off sleeves and parachute pants flood back into my mind I will attempt to re-focus, breath, and yoga up. I will set aside the thought of big macs in Styrofoam containers and early mornings with Chilli Willi the Penguin and Woody Woodpecker long enough to ask you what your favorite memory of the 80's is, that is if you are old enough to have one.

Baking a baby surprise cake

In the interest of baking I'm sharing my surprise. We have recently had a windfall of wonderful events in our lives ranging from my husband finally finding a good job to hitting some milestones in the pregnancy. With these great things comes what I thought was a drawback but turned out to be a lot of fun.

My husband wasn't able to attend our big ultrasound yesterday so I went it alone. The tech asked me if I would like to find out what the gender of the baby is and I said yes. Then she scrolled over and I saw that we were having a boy. She prepared me "now I have to warn you that these are not always 100%" and I said "Oh, It's a boy!". Then she said "yes, it looks like a boy" I'm thinking we are shooting pretty close to 100%.

So, in honor of our new little boy I baked my husband a chocolate looking cake with a surprise inside. I know that blue food isn't always the most appealing but the kids loved it and we had a great time. I used Betty Crocker's silver white cake recipe and added food coloring to change the color. Let me tell you, a little bit goes a long way too. Soon we were all eating like smurf kings and queens.