My pantry runneth over.

You should really invite me to dinner.

I love to entertain, so I don't get invited out all that much.  I like to cook, and people seem to like my cooking (since they come back time and again) and honestly, sometimes when I get invited somewhere else, I miss being able to spoil my friends and family.  I came up with a solution...  this is it:

The Host/Hostess Gift!

In my pantry is a shelf of delectables just waiting all Martha-Stewart-style, including (but not limited to) blueberry jam, blueberry sauce, strawberry sauce, strawberry syrup, black velvet apricot jam, raspberry jelly, praline syrup, spiced honey, curried ketchup, and cranberry mustard.  They're even labelled and decorated already!  (btw, I love the idea of using circles of scrapbook paper under the jar rings to add some pizazz)

I'm still planning on adding to this stash, since I have yet to make anything with the chokecherries and highbush cranberries growing on my property, or with my mom-in-law's apples, and I have plans for BBQ sauces and salsas.

I'm going to spoil you if you come to my house or not.  *evil cackle*

Valuable life lessons.

I'd never have considered myself to be someone who was afraid of heights.  I don't actually think I am.  Husband has been working on painting the dormers of our house recently, since we're getting our roof replaced (hooray for hail and insurance!).  It's been a long process, so when Husband went to work yesterday, I decided to be helpful and give him a hand.  I've been pretty out of commission lately with the whole c-section recovery/gaping wound thing, so it felt good to be productive.  Maybe I was running off the endorphins created by last weeks basement clean-up, maybe I was just nuts, but there I was, up on the 2x8 board "scaffolding".  It took me a while to get up there, carrying my paint can and brush.  The roof is pretty steep and there is a good 4 feet from the edge of the roof to the board.  Once firmly placed, I looked around and immediately regretted my plan.  I didn't feel secure at all. 

I wasn't sure what to do.  Getting back to the ladder was impossible (the idea of crawling DOWN the steep roof right to the edge seemed a whole lot more daunting than climbing up).   I knew the window was open, since Husband had taken part of it down to fix, leaving only poly, a screen and a blanket (impromtu window covering in Girl's room while Husband also builds a "treehouse" in there, long story for another day) in my way.  So, I did what any good wife would do.  I painted my way to the window and let myself in.

Entertainingly, Girl was still in bed when I crawled through the window into her treehouse.  She thought it was fantastic. 

I felt like a failure, but at least I wasn't the kind of failure that ends up in the emergency room.  I took my disapproving looks from Husband gracefully, and now I know...  I'm not afraid of heights.  However I am afraid of falling.

Say WHA?!

I was at Costco a few days ago, buying some food, when I came across something interesting in the produce department.  Black Velvet Apricots.

I hailed my mom, and we had a conversation similar to this:

Suzie:  Hey mom, look at these!  Black Velvet Apricots!

Mom:  Those are plums.

Suzie:  No, they're apricots

Mom:  Apricots aren't purple.

Suzie:  Plums aren't fuzzy.  Plus, look...  it says "APRICOTS" on the package.

Needless to say, I bought them.  I can't say no to weird produce.  Plus, it said on the package that it is a "limited edition" so how could I leave them?  Next year they might make apricots pink and I would have missed out on the purple ones all together.

I was excited to try one.  Guess what, it tastes like fruit.  I don't really eat apricots normally, so I have no idea how they taste...  they were sweet and juicy, quite delicious.  Of course, I had about 40 of them (hooray for bulk buying) plus plums, nectarines, cherries and bananas...  so there was nothing else to do but make Black Velvet Apricot JAM!

Husband:  You know... you could just eat fruit and not make jam out of it.

Suzie:  (laughs)

He doesn't know me at ALL does he?  Not to mention, since these are a limited edition, my jam is going to be worth some coin when all people have are boring old orange apricots.

Black Velvet Apricot Jam

3 cups pureed, pitted apricots (leave the skin on)
1/4 cup lemon juice
7 cups sugar
1 pkg liquid pectin. 

Mix first three ingredients well in a large pot, bring to a boil. Once you can no longer stir down the bubbles, boil hard for one minute. Take off the heat, add the liquid pectin and stir well. Let stand for a few minutes to help prevent floating fruit, and skim off the foam. Fill jars, leaving 1/4 inch headspace, add seals and rings, tighten to finger-tight. Let cool. (as they cool, the seals will pop inwards, if they don't, you do not have a proper seal and jam should be kept in the fridge until eaten).

It turned out to be a really pretty jam...  I think the floating confetti of purple really makes it.

I really shouldn't give you all my big money-making idea, but hey, I'm benevolant like that!

WARNING: NEW MOTHER

I read an article a while back that made me laugh. The woman writing it was talking about "baby on board" signs for cars and how before she had children she thought they were to remind other drivers to drive more safely around her. Since having children, she realized they were to warn other drivers of her terrible driving as she strains to hand a goldfish cracker back to her child.

I think new moms need signs for everyday life too.

You start to lose your mind during pregnancy, but luckily, by the time it really gets noticable, you have a giant belly that warns people for you. However, once that baby comes out, the general public doesn't always get why you went to the doctor's office yesterday (after lunch and the library) with your shirt on backwards.

TOTALLY hypothetical situation.

*sigh*

Two is company, three is a crowd.

I have a strange kind of superstition.  I don't know why.  No one else seems to understand it, so it can't be inherited.  I guess it's just something I came up with along the way. 

When I was pregnant with Girl, I was a walking contradiction.  I measured way too big, but wasn't showing much at all.  I was warned about twins and the whole time I hoped for them.  People thought I was nuts, but my reasoning was somewhat sound.  You see, I wanted 2 kids, and it seemed more my style to do it all at once.  Go big or go home!  Of course, but the time I had my ultrasound I knew it wasn't to be. 

Now, I fear I have set myself up for the ultimate "God-has-a-sense-of-humor-moment."  It's this time before the ultrasound that messes with my head (and it doesn't help that I somehow end up with late ultrasounds EVERY TIME!)  I'm too big again, which should be obvious, since it's the same as last time, but now, it just seems more appropriate for my type of luck. 

The thought of twins NOW is terrifying.   Purely the logistics of the situation are beyond me.  I couldn't even buy groceries without needing another person. 

Luckily, my superstition has another odd side to it.  I heard from my SIL yesterday, who had been speaking with a pregnant store clerk.  Apparently she was looking a little shell-shocked and mentioned that she just found out she was having twins and she had a 2-year-old at home.

AAAH.  Relief. 

Someone else came along and stole my scary destiny. 

All is well in Whoville!

Fake Tree... Fake Christmas

I can't do it...  I just can't.  For the last few weeks I have had my home decorated for a Christmas house tour, as around a thousand strangers tromped through and ooh-ed and ah-ed at my Christmas-y house (which incidently was decorated by the beginning of November).  It was fun, and today, as I take down Christmas decorations to send back to the store from whence they came, and replace them with more of my own, I can't help but stare at the artificial Christmas tree standing in the corner.   It's pretty enough.  Lit with lights and bedazzled with shiny baubles, it's ok. 

But, it's not a real tree.

Therefore, it's going away.

I can't, I'd die on the inside.  Christmas would not be complete unless there was a real tree stinking up the house real nice. 

People say they're too much work, so I decided to run a comparison.  Since I believe that putting up a fake tree is tantamount to eating a deli-turkey sandwich for Christmas dinner, I figured I'd see which was more work and effort.

We usually buy a tree rather than cut one (they tend to last better and are less scraggly), but I also buy my turkey rather than raise one and kill it, so I suppose we're even at the gate.

CHRISTMAS TREE:

Real Tree

Buying and bringing home tree - 45 minutes

Lighting and decorating (properly) - 2 hours

Watering 2 min/day over 14 days - 28 minutes

Undecorating - 1 hour

Vacuuming - 10 minutes

Artificial Tree

Dragging tree from closet and setting up - 45 minutes

Decorating - 30 minutes

Undecorating -30 minutes

Cramming back into closet - 10 minutes

Total time savings by using artificial tree - 2 hours 28 minutes.

CHRISTMAS DINNER

Real Dinner

Grocery shopping - 1 hour

Table setting - 1 hour

Cleaning for guests - 2 hours

Turkey - 4 hours

Potatoes - 45 minutes

Stuffing - 1 hour

Green Bean Casserole - 15 minutes

Gravy - 15 minutes

Carrots - 30 minutes

Homemade dinner rolls - 2 hours

Cranberry sauce - 20 minutes

Dessert - 1 hour

Cookie platter - 2 hours

Fake Dinner

make deli-turkey sandwich - 10 minutes

Total time savings by eating sandwich - 11 hours, 55 minutes

As you can see by my detailed and fully accurate comparison, You are saving far more time by making a sandwich than you ever would by getting an artificial tree.  Luckily, we have not yet found a way to kill the joy of Christmas dinner in the name of ease and expediency.  Granted, those among you who say that real trees are not worth it because they are too much work are probably the people who let their family do the turkey dinner, and merely attend. 

Let's not quibble.  I will bask in the light of my tree, with it's heavenly scent, and you can ignore yours in the corner while you watch TV.

Internet Propaganda

It litters my Facebook newsfeed.  Internet propaganda.  We all know what it is, those little links that people post to "make a point" that they are somehow superior because someone else has "done a study" about something or another.  The latest one that bugs me is the McDonalds happy meal "experiment".  You've seen it.  Someone took a plain hamburger and fries, left it on a plate for 6 months and then concluded that because it didn't decompose, it was obviously so full of preservatives and plastic that it was not actual food.   I don't even want to post the link because it's so preposterous, but in the interest of full-disclosure, here you go.   This isn't the actual experiment, but rather a typical blog post about it.   (I'm curious to know why they expected to find worms?  I have let PLENTY of food rot in my house, and so far, no worms.  Oh yeah, because worms are living creatures who need to come from somewhere... like an egg)

As soon as I saw this so-called-experiment, I was dubious (to be polite).  Take the bread to start...  as someone who makes her own bread crumbs by doing little but leaving bread on a counter until it petrifies, I can attest that if you leave bread in a bag, it will grow mould, but if you leave it exposed to the open air, the moisture content will dissipate faster than mould can grow.  Mould needs moisture.  I could tell that all that was happening was that this hamburger was drying out and petrifying well before being allowed to rot.

Even consider your compost bin...  stuff doesn't decompose if you just leave it out there, you have to mix it together, add moisture and heat.

All I wanted to do was go out, buy an organic tofu burger and do the exact same experiment.

Luckily, 30 seconds on the internet saved me the trouble (of having half a dozen different hamburgers drying out on my dining room table).  Lo and behold, people had already done it.   This time, however, they had followed the rules of an elementary school science fair, and included more than one variable, and... *drumroll* ... a CONTROL.  (If you're trying to prove that a certain hamburger doesn't rot because of the amount of preservatives, you'd better darn well try the same experiment with a hamburger that has no preservatives.)

Surprise, surprise.  All the hamburgers acted in exactly the same way, thereby proving that this "experiment" that is so widely promoted as fact, is in fact, hogwash.  (And before you start whining about the fries, someone did an experiment on that one too)

Test your spirits people, don't believe everything you read on the internet.  If you look hard enough, you can "prove" just about anything, whether actually valid or not.  If you don't want to eat fast food, that's your choice, but that doesn't mean you need to judge others for their choices.  I have no problems with fast food, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.  I don't eat it often, but when I do, I enjoy it.  I balance it with fresh vegetables, whole grains and lean protein, and I don't feel guilty.

eek.

I'd like to start a support group for those of us with over-active imaginations.

There is some marginal benefit to having a good imagination, especially if you can figure out a way to make money with it, but there is a dark downside. 

Nothing is safe.

As soon as I had Girl into her own bed in her own room (a week or two after I had her) and starting using the baby monitor...  my imagination reared it's ugly head.  I would have these recurrin episodes of "It would be SO SCARY IF..."  and then visions of watching the baby monitor as a calm, rough voice crackled through the speaker, alerting me that he "has my baby", and I can come up and get her if I want. 

*SHUDDER*

I don't know why I do it to myself.  Can't I just be like the rest of the world, to whom a baby monitor is nothing more than surveillance? 

The scary thing is that this isn't even all.  Perhaps I enjoy being scared and freaking myself out.  I do really enjoy Criminal Minds after all.  There is a fairly remote chance that the way I go out will be linked to a serial killer, but...  you never know.  I hope I'm not that person in the movie who runs from the house when everyone in the theatre is screaming not to, but rather the one who somehow, through sheer resiliancy, makes it out alive, scarred for life.

I need a support group.

Running

I hate running.  Let's just get that out there.  I know it's SUPPOSEDLY good for you (though I can recite a loing list of people for whom running has destroyed their joints... my joints in contrast are perfectly fine), but I can't really bring myself to do it.

Husband loves to run.  He is weird.  I'm proud of him though.  Today, he finished his first half-marathon, beating his goal by 24 seconds.  His time was 1:44:36.  I was sleeping through most of it.  It was also in a time zone an hour ahead of us, so don't be too appalled. 

I just have trouble with running.  I blame it on boobs mostly.  That way Husband can't complain.  You really gotta tie those babies down or you got serious problems.  I have an expensive sports bra (stupid thing cost me $120 and looks like it's made out of a bad bridesmaid dress) which works pretty well, but really...  some people are built to run, and I am not one of them.  I also have short legs, so I can take the same number of steps as Husband and his natural stilts, and go half the distance.  No thanks. 

Part of me feels like I should run...  because it's good for you, and all the really skinny people do it.  I think it's easier for skinny people.  Less wind resistance.  That, and skinny people don't usually have big boobs. 

See, I can come up with justification for anything.

A Play.

Mom:  "I'm going to make the turkey gravy for thanksgiving"

Suzie: "Why?"  (looks confused.  She thought she would be making it)

Mom: "Because then I can use contraband"

Suzie: (more confused) "What contraband?"

Mom: "Onion soup mix"

Suzie:  (Still confused) "Since when do we put onion soup mix into turkey gravy"

Mom:  "Trust me."

Suzie:  "I have made turkey gravy 5-10 times and I have never once used onion soup mix."

Mom:  "Trust me, it'll be better"

Suzie:  (Stares at Mom is complete confusion)

Mom:  "Or is that meatballs?"

Suzie: (laughs) "Yes mom, you use onion soup mix in meatballs"

END SCENE


Sorry mom, this story was just too good to share!  So, no onion soup mix in the turkey gravy (which is good, since it is a beef-based soup).  Mom is going to bring the meatballs instead.

Bag washer.

I never thought I would be one of those people.  I rolled my eyes at them and always thought they were a little bit crazy.  We all know people like them...  the people who wash ziploc bags.

Now, don't get me wrong, there is a definite distinction as to WHICH ziploc bags I will wash.  I will always throw away anything that had meat in it, or other foods that harbour mass amounts of bacteria.  Plastic is porous after all, and I'm not taking chances.  I do however, wash the bags that I put bread into.  I found that making 1-2 loaves a week, they keep best in plastic, but it seems a waste to throw the bags away every week.  So, I'll wash them.

CBC News - Manitoba - Winnipeg Beach fire leaves neighbours nervous

CBC News - Manitoba - Winnipeg Beach fire leaves neighbours nervous

This is a terrible story, but could someone PLEASE have blurred out/cropped out/stuck some tape over the "concerned neighbour's" t-shirt?

Creative Floodgates

I don't know what it is... but sometimes it feels like I've inadvertantly opened the floodgates.  I'm not really sure how to stop them.

I have always considered myself a creative person.  As a child my biggest goal in life was to be a writer.  I loved imagining, creating, art, photography, music, and everything typical of the right-brained among us.   As an adult, that started to disappear.  I still felt I was creative, but the daily grind of life, work and home took over.  It was not the time for creativity. 

Recently, I have had the chance to embrace that part of my brain again.  Perhaps it is motherhood and being thrust into a world of constant make-believe.  Maybe it's the hours spent nursing a baby and needing my mind to stay active.  Whatever the cause, I am now unable to keep up with my brain.   Suddenly I have found the stories I looked for earlier in my life (when I would have had more time to write).  Not only that, I have more stories than I know what to do with.  I am seeing the world differently and finding my way in this new place.

I know I need to jot them down, just in case this creative time passes as quickly as it came.  Roll with the punches, run with the ball. 

I'd better get back to it, before Girl wakes up and I'm back to real life.

Points of Contention

I LOVE customer loyalty programs.  I've been sucked in and there is no way out.  I enjoy working the system to get as many points as possible (while still only buying things I'll use), and spend as little as possible.  As a result, over the last year and a half, I have accumulated enough points to get over $500 in free groceries.

The problem is redeeming them.

Firstly, I have a bit of an obsession.  My coupon-savvy SIL put it best when she said "It's a competition between ME and the STORE".  It's true, I want to get as much out of them as humanly possible.  Because of this, in order for me to want to redeem points, I need to see the best deal.  Anything that is cheap, and gets me more points in return while being something that I can easily stock up on, is fair game. 

Unfortunately Husband doesn't see it this way.  He thinks that I should use all the points, get my free groceries and call it done, saving us the money now.  His argument is that inflation makes the points worth less the longer you keep them.  I guess that's true, but my plan isn't to save them until I die...  Just until the next unbeatable deal. Is it time to check the fliers for next week yet?

Secondly...  the store is making it difficult on me.  In order to pacify Husband, I decided to spend some of my points on regular groceries while waiting for a good deal.  Easier said than done.  The computer systems weren't letting me redeem so I called the customer help line to find out that somehow Husband had been made the "primary cardholder", and therefore the only person allowed to redeem points.  Since he was at work, I dug through the junk drawer for his extra key-tag-card, and headed off to the store, only to find out that HIS card was still listed as "inactive"...  apparently we had never fully activated his card and he could only collect, not redeem.  Now, if anyone else sees the idiocy in having the sole redeemer be a person who can't redeem points, please raise your hand.

I will redeem my points...  someday.  Until then, I'll relish the continually growing balance on my card.  Hello my babies...  it's not quite time to toss you from the nest.

Through the looking glass.

"Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do?... Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"

I think I'll have that song in my head all day! My brush with "Cops" came late last night. I live outside of the city, and rarely even hear sirens, nevermind see anything interesting "go down", so it was very surprising when our doorbell started ringing incessantly at 11pm. Husband, wary of late night visitors, especially since Ed McMahon is no longer with us, cracked the door and heard a desperate voice calling out "They robbed me for my LEG! I've been ROBBED! I need to call my grandma to pick me up!". Obviously, this is not something you hear every day, and sure enough, the guy was hopping on one leg (the absence of blood helped us put 2 and 2 together that it was a prosthetic limb that was missing). Still a bit leery, since there were now a number of red and blue lights blinking through the bushes that seperate our house from the street, Husband handed a phone through the door and went out to take a look, locking the door behind him.

I watched from the window as flashlights illuminated him and after some shouting, his hands went up in the air. A brief exchange, and then he countinued down the driveway and an officer came into view. He took one look at the legless man on our stoop and ordered him onto the ground. When he didn't comply right away, there were some shouts and soon the man was cuffed and facedown on the front sidewalk, covered in the boys (and girls) in blue. Other officers were swarming around the house with flashlights, followed soon after by a big angry dog.

Husband came strolling up the driveway with an officer and I finally got the story. Apparently our driveway was the end of a police car chase that originated downtown. The car was cockeyed on the driveway (unfortunately narrowly missing the address sign that I so desperately would like to replace) and completely missing the 2 tires on the passenger side (a result of spike strips MILES before). We were told to stay inside for the time being until they captured the others who had run from the car, as police dogs can't always tell who is innocent.

The dogs led a crowd of 8-10 officers far beyond our house, through the unseasonably wet, poison ivy-ridden, mosquito-infested property. I felt sorry for the cops, who admittedly called our property "a nightmare" since they are used to streets, alleys, and fences. The dark, unknown terrain was a whole other ballpark, but it made me somewhat happy that the "perps" were also wandering the fields, tripping over fallen trees, into puddles and poison ivy, while being chased by dogs and people with guns (that would be enough to make anyone think twice about driving a stolen car out here again).

All was quiet for a while, the flashing red and blue still staked out our property and a towtruck had arrived to haul off the maimed neon. I figured we had seen the last of it, until, while up feeding Girl, I heard voices and barking. Apparently an injured car thief had camped out behind a shed, presumably waiting until the police were gone. Caught ya sucker! (by the way, looking down the barrel of that police dog, who knows he's looking for you, plus 8-10 cops can't be a fun experience) I should mention his pants were also falling down. The moral of the story: always wear a belt for midnight runs through the bush.

Thumbs up to the Boys and Girls in blue!