hors d'oeuvres...

Christmas dinner is in the oven and won't be ready for a couple hours yet so I decided to make some appetizers. I thawed out some shrimp and opened a jar of cocktail sauce.

Fancy, I know.

I also pulled out some crackers and whipped up some salmon dip. I had this vision in my mind of how salmony and delectable it would be. I mixed it with a small dallop of mayo, a hefty portion of cream cheese. I splashed in some lemon juice and hot sauce. I chopped up sun dried tomatoes, and added a generous teaspoonful of capers.

I scoop some up on a delicious seasoned Wheat Thin flatbread crackers. And you know what it tastes like?

No, it does not taste like poo.

It tastes exactly like tuna. What the frick, right? All that effort for TUNA flavor. I may as well have just opened a can and added mayo.

I know what kind of sandwich I'll be eating for lunch tomorrow.

Fake tuna.

Grandma Waters

Grandma Waters was my great-grandmother on my dad's side of the family (his mom's mom). When I was about 12-14 my dad would hang this big quilting frame from the ceiling in our garage and Grandma would come over and make patchwork quilts from scraps of fabric. Lovely, warm, hodge-podge quilts. We used to take her fishing, too. She loved to fish.

Anyway, back to quilting in the garage. She used to tell us stories as she sewed the quilt. One day she was talking about her family and she told me she was the last of the Mohicans. I was in awe. Later that night I went and told my mom that Grandma Waters was the last Indian. She scoffed at me. I told her I was serious, Grandma had told me so! She said no, grandma is black, not Indian. I protested. She had TOLD me. Why would she tell me she was the last of the Mohicans if she wasn't an Indian??? (Forget that I hadn't put any thought into how we could be black if she was Indian... maybe she was only part Indian, but I was like 12, I didn't think about the logistics.)

My mother burst my bubble and told me that Grandma had said that because she was the last one in her family still living. She didn't mean she was a real Indian, she just meant that she was the only one of her siblings living.

For one day, though, my great-grandmother was the last living Native American Indian.

That's a good word.

Genevieve (at the dinner table): We are teaching Xander some good words. He can say lots of things.

Me: Oh yeah?

Genevieve: He can say "Rawr." Xander, say "RAAAWWWWRRRR!"

(Xander shakes his head no.)

Adrienne: He doesn't want to.

Genevieve: Nope.

We're all half black.

Adrienne: Hey! Guess what, Ava! My mom is HALF black! She's half black because her grandma is half black!

Ava: Wow.

Me: Uh, no Adrienne, my Grandma is ALL black, my dad is half black, so I am a quarter black.

Adrienne: So that makes me half black?

Me: No. That makes you 1/8 black.

Adrienne: Oh. Well. Ava, I'm REALLY dark.

Ava: So am I. My mom says I am really tan.

Adrienne: Yeah. Genevieve has the darkest back.

My kids need to get on the ball...

...also, people are stupid. And my kids need to take advantage of that. My neighbors' sons got together and were selling mistletoe on the side of the road the other day.

#1 They did this last year, too. Earned a few dollars.

#2 I laughed because they weren't selling mistletoe. They were selling holly.

#3 People were dumb enough to fall for it, not knowing the difference.

#4 My kids need to hop on this train. The boys made 60 bucks this week selling holly to unassuming passersby because the whole lot of them thought it was mistletoe.

#5 It's not deception if my kids think it's mistletoe, too? Right?

Hanging on.

I feel like all too often I hang on to useless junk that I need to dispose of. Papers I think I might need some day, old clothing, knick knacks that people have given me that have long since ceased to be useful, tasteful, or not broken.

Periodically I manage to convince myself to purge. Today I put away laundry and discarded several articles of clothing that I don't even know why I held onto (some of them even had holes!) I cleaned my kitchen, went through my basket-o-crap and threw away almost everything in it.

Back to the clothing for a moment. It occurred to me that I have lots of articles that several years old, and out of style. But, I continue to hang on to them because I just plain like 'em, and since I spent the money on them I feel like it's a waste to get rid of them even if I barely got to wear them between pregnancies. I also have things which I technically CAN wear, but clearly shouldn't because of my post baby body. And I don't. But, I still keep them in the hopes that eventually I CAN one of these days.

I know I hang onto too much. I just need to up the ante on my periodic purges, because I don't want to end up like my great-grandmother. God love her, she almost qualifies for Hoarders. There is no reason why I need to keep Christmas cards we received last year on the top shelf of my pantry.

Puuuuurge.

staying signed in...

I get really annoyed by things that I deliberately click "stay signed in" and every time I turn around it's making me sign back in. Why the hell even offer the "stay" option if they don't actually do it? I think I'm smart enough to sign out if I'm on another computer. But I'm not on another computer. I'm on mine. And no one else uses it. I can afford the luxury of staying signed in. Respect my wishes, dagnabbit! :P

Having Children

Everywhere I go I bring my 4 kids. On virtually every outing I have someone say something to the effect of "Boy, you've sure got your hands full!" I usually reply with a smile and say something like, "Oh, sometimes, but usually it's not bad!" Every once in awhile someone gives a dirty look, or makes the "You should make your husband get snipped!" type of comments. And every once in awhile I have someone say how great they think it is that I have "so many" children.

Today I had the distinct pleasure of having that happen not once, but twice. I think they were both Vietnam vets, too. One most certainly was, his hat was proof enough. The other had lost a leg, which I know could have been due to anything but around here there are a lot of veterans so it's a 50/50 chance he was. The latter spoke to us on our way out of Church. There were, aside from the 5 of us, literally only 7 other people attending the noon Holy Day Mass. (I am hoping a lot more people attended the evening Mass.) Mine were the only children in attendance, and I was the only person there south of 50. It was kind of hard to miss us. He smiled and said we reminded him of his daughter's family; she has 5 children, the oldest in high school.

The other gentleman encountered us in the McDonalds at WalMart. I was waiting in line and he came up behind us and started chatting up my kids. Then he asked me if we were going to have any more. I told him "Maybe." He smiled and said he liked that, and that it's always God's decision. I agreed and said it wasn't in my immediate plans but we weren't ruling it out. Then he started talking to a woman and her daughter (who had to be around 14). They admitted the girl was spoiled "because she's the only girl." And then they said there would be no more children for them, "because mommy can't have any more children." He started talking about how it's up to God. It was kind of funny to watch and I was glad I was on his side of it all.

This is terribly composed but I have a child kicking my arms and I'm too lazy to go back over everything. I just wanted to put this out there before I forget it. It's nice to have some positive reinforcements out there when so often people are incredulous or give us flack for having "a lot" of kids.