Hot Wings

And so it seems that I must share this story (oh little brother of mine, how I know you will enjoy). My youngest brother has been quite a "ham" since the day he was born, I think he came out of the womb dancing and singing. Literally, we would get in an elevator and there was my little brother in his stroller dancing. He claimed (at age 3) that when he heard music he couldn't help that his body wanted to dance. He is pretty much the center of attention anywhere he goes and of course at the dinner table. And THAT is how I come to this story, what had happened was…

We were enjoying a family dinner, my brother was very young, old enough to eat HOT wings but not old enough to keep from getting hot sauce all over him. He did his usual, move around the table, touch everything and cause mom to send him upstairs, to start running the water, and get in the bathtub. So, my brother, I'll call him "M" to protect the guilty, runs up the stairs and starts the water. The rest of the family continued hot wing consumption, the water stopped and mom called up to the little man to get undressed and wait until she got up there to get in. No sooner than 30 seconds later... here comes "M" SCREAMING and NAKED down the stairs! I am talking full speed, full out crying and a look of horror on his face! He hopped around downstairs (still fully unclothed) and kept screaming, pointing towards his "nether region”. What do you get when a little kid gets undressed and has HOT sauce all over his hands? You've got it, he was in the stage of being VERY interested in his "parts", so with the hot sauce all over his hands he also got it all over "down there" and not realizing what it was, he kept grabbing himself in pain only making it worse. I am sure he was in pain, but at the same time his dramatic tendencies caused us not to respond as quickly as we should have. After a few minutes of hopping around screaming, my mom fortunately took action. “M” continued crying, while my mom helped him up to the tub, while still yelling that his “wenis” was on fire. The rest of us, per usual in any comical situation… Laughed.

So the moral of the story is… well there isn’t one.

Dear Cooking (we need to talk)

Dear Cooking,

My roommate down here in the “south” (disclaimer she is NOT from the south), finds you soothing. I however find you quit torturous. Yes, that’s right torturous! You make me feel inadequate and unloved. If things don’t change… well then I am not sure this relationship will last.

I am aware that you make most food bearable to eat (raw hamburger meat doesn’t sound so tasty) but the hassle you put me through is rough.

Let’s start with a recipe, why do you insist on involving math… conversion tables? What’s a pinch and why do we need 1/3 cup of whatever strange ingredient you have mustered up today. Can’t we just call it an even cup? Is there any particular reason you prefer Hershey’s chocolate vs. Godiva? Why are there so many brands of one ingredient?

And Pans? Really do I need a whole set? I think one pan is enough, maybe two simply because I’m lazy and don’t want to wash the other one right away! I like a good sink full of dishes (really, I do, it means I attempted cooking). There should be no pans without Teflon, all the other kinds usually end in some sort of flame.

Ohhhh and how about temperatures, I don’t believe you when you say 5 degrees will make a difference. I like rounding numbers to the next hundred, my life would be sooo much easier without you!

Why why why?!! Do you leave 14 spoons laying out on the counter-tops, making me taste you every five minutes adding serious mass to my rear-end! I don’t know if you grasp this, but I have to fit into my bathing suite this summer.

I would also like to know why, when you decide dinner is ready that you must loudly announce it with the smoke alarm… the neighbors do NOT need to know when we are eating. Can’t you calmly send your aroma through the house and entice others to come down and say “wow, that smells delicious, what are you cooking?” instead I get “what the heck are you doing the stove is on fire!!!” I realize the stove is on fire, that’s why I have the fan blowing and I am hopping up and down screaming at it. And eating with the doors wide open to get the stench of the burnt food out of the house is not pleasurable, the middle of winter in particular.

I am aware that you are trying to make my life easier with recipes of tasty deliciousness… but could you tone it down a little. No conversion tables, no pans without Teflon, no weight gain and seriously can we cut it out with the smoke alarms… If you are willing to work on these issues I can see us having a lasting relationship, until then our future is looking desolate.

let's talk,

Amanda

I'll try to answer this one

There many philosophical questions that need to be answered...

Who came first, the chicken or the egg?

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it make a noise?


but the most important one of all is:


Just how many licks does it take to get to the chewy center of a Tootsie Roll Pop????

No really, how many licks?? I can't actually figure this out. This question has been on my mind since, umm forever. Every time I get close to figuring it out, I bite it! I tried "googling" it to see who else has figured it out, but here are the conclusions I have come up with...

1. It depends on the size of your mouth, and the roughness on your tongue.

2. The Tootsie Roll Owl only took 3 licks (I would guess he had a rough tongue)

3. What you consider a lick??
example: Letting my mom take a lick of my ice cream cone, when I was little, was very different than when my sister took a lick. Moms lick resembled that of a giraffe licking around the whole cone. My sisters lick resembled a dog biting/licking the whole top.

4. What flavor? Your favorite vs. Your not so favorite flavor

5. Are you a "real man/woman" who follows through with projects, and licks it 'til the end?

6. Or are you a bit like me... start a project and leave the unfinished product around for your husband to finish (cause he hates unfinished projects)

7. Are you part of the populous that likes the Tootsie Roll Pop for its chewy tootsie core or do you lean towards the tasty shell?

8. It depends on your mood, time of day, and your destination. If you have a meeting or a child you need to attend to, more than likely you will rush to get to the inside of the Pop. Feeling lazy... not so much.


Basically this is a question that can't be answered... there are too many variables. Each experience is a little different and personal. So next time you lick/bite into a Tootsie Roll Pop, take into account all of the different factors and let me know about your Tootsie Pop Experience!

Just How many licks does it take to get to the chewy center of a Tootsie Roll Pop???

The World will NEVER know!

How did he get the front seat?

So, here goes... for those of you who know me, you know I am currently living in the south. When I say south, I am referring to the real south. The place where directions from locals actually contain things like "follow the dirt road to the end" and "make a right at the white sign that you can't read the words". I am from up north where roads are marked with numbers and the way to get anywhere is by following a highway. Unless you are going camping your destination will never be at the end of any dirt road. So, back to me being in the south.

I was driving more "south" than I already am (if that is possible) down a slightly paved road, when I noticed a very stylish pick-up truck behind me. I am pretty sure it did not have a bumper or working windows and possibly no floor from rust. The man driving it was wearing no shirt and was riding my tail like it may have been his second job. I started to get a little nervous (young girl out of state, alone) thinking maybe I was going to be his next victim. Anyways, I kept speeding up and he kept getting closer (don't freak out mom I am writing this so I am safe). I realized then that he was just trying to pass, phew, thank God! As I see him barrel by me, I notice that there in the front passengers seat is a pot-belly pig, hanging his head out the window wearing a confederate flag bandanna collar around his neck, hilarious! Ok, it gets better, (seriously not sure how it could get any better) but it does. So this very stylish truck blazes by me and I realize in the bed of the truck there is a little boy peeking his head up. The pet pig actually got a better seat than the little boy did!! I think this kid was about eight years old. Now as comical as this was I was also nervous for the little guy. The man driving the truck was NOT going slow! I am curious though, at what point does an adult decide that putting your pet pig in the front passenger seat is the ok? and leaving your kid in the back is the best option?

Maybe the pet pig called "shot-gun" for the front seat... and you can't go back on a pig that calls "shot-gun", we all know the rules.

A Christian Bumper Sticker?

I have been contemplating the idea of putting a Christian bumper sticker on my car. I have actually been thinking about this for the last year or so. The thing is, I want everyone to know I AM a christian and that Jesus has saved me. I want it to spark interest with someone who doesn't know Jesus. The dilemma is this... I often speed and by often I mean every time I drive. I always forget my blinker for some reason this makes other drivers not appreciate my awesome driving capabilities. I have been pulled over so many times, they run together. The only police officer I actually remember is Officer Geraldo (I only remember his name because of Geraldo Rivera). I have not received tickets for all of these, but the few I have, seem to hit my purse very hard. Patience is not something that I have, I pray for it all the time and just when I think I am getting it. Behold my impatient fleshy self comes to the front! My husband also drives my car and I think his middle name is "impatience", he's annoyed when people drive slowly or walk slowly across the street. He stalks people as if they are his prey to get the best parking spot in the parking area. Although he does drive this way, I must include that in his daily life with me he is VERY patient. I am often amazed at how patient he is, sometimes I frustrate myself with my own emotions, but he is consistently loving and calm. I just feel as if the way we drive is not showing patience towards others, not the way God wants us to be. Patience is mentioned pretty often in the Bible, and its a virtue I would love to have. With Gods help, I think in the future we will be able to put that bumper sticker on the car and show patience towards others. Until then I guess, the verdict is... no bumper sticker.

I Really had no idea?

I didn't know that starting a blog would take this much time. I won't blame it on the amount of time it takes to post, but I would like to blame it on the time it takes to find a blog layout that suits your personality. I have no idea what sort of layout would explain my personality, although I can imagine my sisters could probably give me some of their thoughts on that. I spent some time browsing through layouts and nothing struck me as something to represent me or my blog. I hope to be inspired soon.

I Never Imagined

I honestly never thought that I would have a Blog. Not ever, I have about 20 journals that I have received through the years, and usually I write on page one before I decide that its tedious and not worth my time. I would really like to look back and read about everything I have done, written in my own words, impossible. Each "page 1" in every journal is a little like this... Dear (insert some crazy name I've decided to call my journal this time), I promise I am going to write in you every day. That is where it ends. I am curious, what would I have written? What was important to me then? I am pretty sure I would have written it like Harriet the Spy, she had it all... A secret notebook and a Magnifying Glass, she would write all sorts of clues in her notebook and solve big cases. I know a journal is not about solving cases, but maybe finding clues as to who you were, and why you are who you are today. So, I guess this is my first entry in my blog, if I call it a blog I might look at it differently and write more often. I won't fill page one and forget about it; I hope.