God, Fate, Mother Nature, Maybe Tinky Winky

Someone or something out there wants me to stop bellyaching about my Achilles Tendon feeling better and therefore I don't need the surgery. While walking down the stairs last night, something bad happened. I'm not sure exactly what, but there was ping feeling, a sharp burning sensation and now my ankle is driving me nuts.

O.k. I get it! I'll have the freakin' surgery. I'll sit. I'll mend. I'll try to be the best patient ever. I'll practice the guitar. I'll make more wee people. I'll scrapbook like crazy. My ass will get even flatter than it already is. I know things aren't going to happen on my time schedule, to my specifications, but I shall endure.

It's getting closer!

The 28th is coming fast. Surgery day. S-Day! I just realized this morning I have no more days alone. Griffin is home sick, so the last two days I would have been solo have become something entirely different. All the amazing things I was going to do in those last two days now have to happen with at least one kid around. UGH!

We cleaned out the basement last weekend. Oh, the s*%t you accumulate. I think having a basement is a bad idea. Just more space to put crap you should throw out. However, I did find a few things to sell on eBay and now we're $140.00 richer. Woo Hoo! Gas for Up North and $40.00 in groceries. Exciting life, huh?

The Christmas gifts are complete except Joe's parents. Very difficult to buy for. Oh, and my cousin had the nerve to send a gift. I really don't want to start exchanging presents with them. We never have before, why would we start now? What to do? They sent a lovely boxed gift of chocolates and coffee, to "help get us through the holidays." I totally appreciate the gift, but I don't really even know them anymore. I haven't seen them in 3 years, maybe. So can I just send a lovely thank you card and be done with it. Or am I expected to gift back? I was thinking of sending them a fairy ornament, but then I've set a precedent that we gift each other. What to do? What to do?

Thirteen Years

Our anniversary was yesterday. We have been married thirteen years and over those thirteen years we’ve had our share of fun. Wink and nudge. I actually looked at a honeymoon picture and wondered about those two people. Did they have any inkling what was coming down the pike at them?

Our marriage has been a bumpy road, but not in the bumpy “I want off this darn thing” kind of bumpy. We’ve joked around about getting divorced, but I can’t imagine us actually doing it. The problems we’ve encountered relationship-wise have been pretty mild. There have been no affairs, unless you count the mountain biking. Oh, we may discuss pointedly and with firm voices but there’s been no fighting where punches were thrown or plates flung. No nights on the couch because of anger, but in its place, nights on the couch because of coughing or a baby sprawled all over the bed. Our life together relatively speaking has been simple.

That honeymoon period before kids seems like a dream now, but what did we do. I don’t remember doing anything. Oh, maybe we saw movies, went out with friends, but I don’t remember the movies or places we went.

Many of our bad times have been pretty funny . . . sometimes Joe didn’t see the humor, mainly because most of it was at his expense. Perhaps the Christmas tree falling over on him won’t be his favorite memory. I assume standing on the side of the road in the middle of the night changing a flat tire in a suit doesn’t rate as a goodtime but, its one of my favorite moments. He’s screaming to the heavens, “Just when you get ahead they come and take it away.” I responded with, “When were we ahead?” He’s a great straight man. I loved it when Scott switched our snowmen. Joe was just irate, thinking some hooligans had defaced ours; the snowman he’d made perfect for his little boys.

My vivid memories involve the boys. I remember waking Joe up in the middle of the night at the hospital after Gus was born just to look at our beautiful baby again. I do gratefully remember how Joe superbly coached me through Will’s 27 hour labor. I remember both of us yelling out, “What?” when the nurse said Will was a boy, we were so convinced he’d be a girl. I also remember exactly what Joe looked like when he walked into my hospital room after Griffin was born. I not only remember the moment but still feel the emotion when I think about having to tell him the baby was going to die. But Griffin didn’t die and over a month became well and he could finally come home. I remember what it felt like to have our family together under one roof.

I’m not the most sentimental and weepy person, but I am crying as I type this, not because of our scare with Griffin, yet it’s still raw emotion, but because this is our history. The story we will always have with us as a couple. I can’t imagine giving that up. Joe has truly been there for me in sickness and health, in good times and bad, and for richer and unfortunately poorer. I just couldn’t give him up and I can only hope he feels the same about me.

Do you need a little fairy?

Here's a few fairies for sale. They are $20.00 a piece. Just leave a comment if you're interested.

Gladys Kravitz: To Be or Not To Be

I would like to preface this blog with the statement: I really need to get a job.

I’m standing at my kitchen sink washing a few things and I notice a white panel van backed into the neighbor’s driveway idling. This stuck me as odd because the neighbors did not appear to be home. When’s the last time you had workman over while you weren’t home? I try go about my business, but this van is really worrying me. What if they are getting completely robbed and all I’m going to be able to tell the police is, “Yeah, I saw it there, but I didn’t do anything.”

After maternal consultation I decide I have to call the sheriff’s non-emergency number and get their take on the whole deal. The dispatcher says, “We’ll send someone right now. If that van moves for any reason call me right back.” O.k. see I should have called; she feels it warrants a trip right now.

However, only moments later do I notice the man with the carpet cleaning equipment coming out of the front door. I immediately call back dispatch to let them know. Unfortunately, the sheriff turns in moments after my call, then obviously gets radioed from the dispatcher, that it’s carpet cleaners. He laughs and heads back to his car.

Now we just have to hope it’s not the “Carpet Cleaning Bandits.” They steal all your stuff as they charade as cleaners, by actually cleaning your carpet. I’m sure they’re out there somewhere, hopefully not in Oxford. I feel stupid for calling, but I would have felt much worst if they were robbing the neighbors blind and I just watched.

The Chewy

I have a perfection thing with cooking. If I’m going to put in the effort I want the product to be perfect. So, I love Alton Brown on the Food Network. He’s the quirky guy with a flair for the dramatic. He hosts Good Eats and I believe we have the same sense of humor. When the yeast puppets come out, I crack up.

Anyway, Alton gave me the fantastic biscuit recipe and now the AMAZING chocolate chip cookie recipe. He has three separate recipes as follows: The Thin, The Puffy and The Chewy. I’m a chewy cookie kind of chick. These are perfection in my mind. FYI they are also huge. It’s a dinner cookie if ya know what I sayin’.

The Chewy

2 sticks unsalted butter
2 ¼ cups bread flour
1 t kosher salt
1 t baking soda
¼ cup sugar
1 ¼ cups brown sugar
1 egg
1 egg yolk
2 T milk
1 ½ t vanilla extract
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

Heat oven to 375 ºF.

Melt the butter in a heavy-bottom medium saucepan over low hear. Sift together the flour, salt and baking soda and set aside.

Pour the melted butter in the mixer’s work bowl. Add the sugar and brown sugar. Cream the butter and sugars on medium speed. Add the egg, yolk, 2 tablespoons of milk and vanilla extract and mix until well combined. Slowly incorporate the flour mixture until thoroughly combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.
Chill the dough, then scoop 2 T dough onto parchment-lined baking sheets. 6 cookies per sheet. Bake for 14 minutes or until golden brown, checking the cookies after 5 minutes, (not really sure why we must look at the cookies at 5 minutes) rotate the baking sheet for even browning (yea, I didn’t rotate a thing). Cool completely and store in an airtight container.

How I Traumatize My Children

Gus has always been the monkey of the family. His physical prowess has always amazed us. From his first steps at 8 months to leaping off the Gordon’s play structure at two and landing in a tuck and roll uninjured, he very rarely missteps and if he does there a tough man act to coincide with the injury. When Will entered our world we knew very early he was wired differently. When brushing their teeth the boys used a 6 inch step stool. Gus would leap off and stick the landing every time. Will, cautious to a fault, would sit down on the stool then walk away. Years later Will, a gazelle among humans, maybe not in grace but in knobby kneed legs, still is very cautious.

The other day he asked for some hot chocolate. Deeply entrenched in recipe clippings I told him to help himself and showed him where the mugs where. Since they’re rarely used in our house they are perched on the very top shelf of the cabinet. Will tried to mount the counter unaided, but his arms didn’t have the strength to hoist him up. He resorted to a chair, but still wasn’t tall enough to reach, so he would have to get on the countertop. Remembering his cautious soul you’ll know he couldn’t stand upright, that would be too high. So on bended left knee and flat right foot he attempted to grasp the mug. Now, I know you’re saying, “Kendrea, why didn’t you just get the mug for him?” Well, I want him to be self-sufficient and I was positive he could manage this task. Besides, my daughter-in-law will appreciate the effort someday. O.k., back to Will teetering on the countertop, his out stretched right hand grabbing for the mug, but he needed a extra inch, so he went to tippy toe on the right foot, which throw off his balance and down went the mug with a crash. Personally, not a big deal here. We have a ton of mugs and honestly I believe just like the plastic bags under the sink, they reproduce in the dark. I came over telling Will, “It’s o.k., I’ll clean it up.” I looked up at him while crouching on the floor. His eyes are enormous and tears are filling them. He didn’t want to cry. He says instead, “It’s really dry in here.” So in the future I suppose Will will even be more cautious. Sorry daughter-in-law to be. But trust me, he’ll always has a good excuse for watery eyes.

A little bit of Christmas from Our House

Best Laid Plans

I'm on a clean the house mission. So, I pulled up the rugs and got the floor super duper clean. Then decided to open the sliding glass door and lean out with my gigantic Boston fern that is shedding and shake the crap out of it. The idea was to circumvent some of the leaves from dropping all over the kitchen floor. I watched as leaves blew out into the distance feeling quite satisfied that I was a great housekeeper. After a minute of shaking the plant in the intense winds blowing outside I didn't see anymore leaves whirling away and turned around to come inside. Shock! No more leaves were blowing around outside, because they had all been sucked or blown inside. There were fern leaves all the way to the front door. With all the sweeping, mopping and sweeping again this floor is really clean.