Inspirations from cheese in a can. joey, kelly and danny.

It’s been a week….has everyone calmed down a little bit now? Good. Because I have something I want to say about the election. I considered avoiding this post altogether because I am very pointedly non-confrontational, and conflict makes me nervous. I am a peacemaker, sometimes too much so. I couldn’t let this one go, though, not when I have committed to posting every day this month, this month is November, this year is an election year, and an election like we’ve never seen has just happened. So damn the torpedoes, here’s my two cents. However, before that: a thank you to all veterans and their families for their sacrifices to protect our country. Your service does not go unnoticed; you are appreciated. Thank you.

Now: all politics aside (as if that’s possible….but try and work with me), what happened last week is an event that I would have bet money that I would not see in my lifetime. When I heard that Barack Obama was a serious contender for the Democratic nomination, my reaction honestly was: “It will never happen.” I underestimated my country, and overestimated the power of racism. So I am pleasantly surprised, and I submit that I would be feeling this same pleasant surprise even if the President-elect was now Alan Keyes (an uberconservative African-American politican). Okay, maybe not the exact same pleasant surprise, but my point is that there is something bigger than politics to notice here.

So this surprise that I feel is the happy part. Millions and millions of parents can now say to their children, with more confidence than before: “You can do anything.” It’s one thing to pass along that platitude and not be sure that you’re doing your kid a favor, and fear that maybe you’re instilling naivete where perhaps a dose of realism would better serve the child. But for parents to believe it as they say it must be such an amazing feeling….to have an example like the President-elect of the United States to point to and assure their children that their biggest dreams are possible, regardless of their skin color or parentage. And for children to grow up taking it for granted that this is the way our country works, is an amazing thing. Yes, this pleases me so much.

And so I have tried to focus on these things, and not to be disheartened at the reluctance of some to acknowledge the historical import of this moment. Not to mention their rush to purchase firearms, disown family members based on their vote, or herald the Apocalypse and/or imminent collapse of our society. For those people, I just wish that they would redirect just a little, and allow themselves to see the positive in this situation. And I know that it is possible for people of different political preferences to do this, because I watched my sister Danyelle do it. Though she is one of the most conservative people I know, on the day after the election she handled herself with as much grace as John McCain displayed in his concession speech, even celebrating with people she met in the grocery store when she saw on their faces what this moment meant to them. And then, my sister-in-law twice removed, Jenn, posted this on her blog yesterday, reminding us that in addition to his African-American heritage, Barack Obama is as Irish as JFK, and that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay. If you, too, have something you want to say, please feel free to comment. Of course, respectful disagreement is welcome, but please try not to say anything ugly, y’all. It would hurt my feelings.

I think I twittered a while back about this situation I have. In a word, the situation is Wurdle. Wurdle is best described as Boggle for the IPhone. Or, in my case, the ITouch. Those of you who are super tech-savvy are saying to yourselves right now: “It is NOT an ITouch. It is an IPod Touch.” And you’re right…..a little uptight perhaps, but you’re right. However, because my husband said the same thing to me in a rather condescending manner, for me, it is and always shall be the ITouch. Really though, I usually just call it Wurdle, because that is the only purpose for which I am interested in this device.

Oddly, I never much got into the whole Boggle thing. You know, it’s that game where there are dice with letters on them, and you shake them up. Then you write down all the words you can think of built from adjacent letters. I know it is possible to achieve great heights in the sport of Boggle, a la Peggy Hill, but I dunno, I just never got into it. As soon as Joey found this application, though, he knew that I would love it. And I do. Very much. I find it so relaxing to play. It represents three-minute increments of immersion in something other than my immediate surroundings, which usually prominently feature a carpet of toys, dirty laundry, and needful creatures. Sometimes I can put together amazing words, like “frenetic” and “quietude”, and sometimes I can make a hundred tiny words. Often I do neither, but I can fail miserably ten times before I get mad enough to quit. Because I just know that next time, it’s going to be an exquisite board of perfectly arranged, immaculately useful letters.

Yeah, see what I mean? I have a little situation. Here’s the good news and the bad news: Wurdle is only available when Joey is here AND not using it himself AND feeling generous with his precious. So really, it’s a self-limiting addiction. The object of my addiction makes its home in someone else’s pants. I can’t partake without someone else knowing, and I can’t indulge when I’m alone. In fact, I have to ask permission, really. It goes like this: “Can I play Wurdle?” Or, if it’s really bad, just a very serious look and “WURDLE.” Rarely am I denied. Because sharing does not come naturally for Joey (it’s something he must actively work on), more than once he has said: “I’m going to buy you your own IPod Touch so you’ll leave mine alone.” I flatly reject this offer because A) I’m a cheap bastard, B) we can’t afford for us BOTH to be addicted to electronics and C) I maybe couldn’t control myself. And there would be Danny and his little (probably female) brother, hungry and wrestling in a pile of their own products as their mother frantically tries to concoct a nine-letter word. (Oh, “frantically” would be an awesome word.)

Mainly because I asked for it, I’ve been tagged by my friend Janelle to list ten things I love that start with the letter T.  After seven straight days of bringing you the quality content you’re accustomed to here at easycheese, today marks the first nablopomo fluff post.  It was bound to happen.  Anyway, nobody really reads this on the weekend anyway, because fortunately, y’all have much better things to do.  Which leaves me to fluff to my heart’s content.  Wow, I wish I didn’t know the other definition of the word fluffer.  If you don’t know what I’m talking about, promise me you won’t look it up on UrbanDictionary.  (Oh, Danyelle, what will you do….what WILL you do?)

1. Television.
2. pTerodactyls. Yeah, you’re right. Send a letter to the editor.
3. Ten.
4. Toast.
5. Tests. Seriously, no kidding. One test paid for my entire undergraduate degree.
6. Tivo. Totally separate from televison.
7. Tapdancing. One day I will learn how.
8. Tacos.
9. Toddlers.
10. Toyotas.

If you feel you would like to be tagged for this, let me know, and I’ll give you a letter. Probably not even Q.

I’m not quite as kitschy as William Shatner, but I can hold my own on Priceline.  When I can’t get Jackie do it for me, that is.  Seriously, though, do you know how complex this can get?  It doesn’t have to be complicated.  If you want, you can just know how much you can spend (though don’t forget to add around 20% for tax and stuff), go bid, and see what happens.  BUT, if you want to maximize your hotel quality and minimize your cost, there is a lot you can do toward that.  With a little time and research, you can stay at really nice places for not much more than the Super8, and maybe even take off your shoes in your hotel room without gagging.  BiddingForTravel.com will walk you through it; start with the FAQ.  If you read all that and still need help, people will actually help you on the message board, and tell you exactly what is your optimal bidding strategy.

I tell you all this because my delightful huthband just recently sacrificed attending his ten-year reunion and agreed to donate the money we didn’t spend on that to an extended anniversary date.  Nana (Joey’s mom, not to be confused with NaNa, my grandmother.  I know.  Fascinating.) came out to stay with Danny for the night, and Joey and I took off for our fancy Buckhead hotel.   We checked in and tipped two different people three different times for handling our two duffel bags.  Yeah, we’re n00bs.  But, since we only paid $75 for the room, we figured we could pretend we were high rollers for a minute.  We changed clothes, sipped my favorite canned champagne that Joey surprised me with, and dashed off to a mystery dinner location.  Alls I knew was that it was downtown.  It turned out to be at the Sundial, the revolving restaurant at the top of the Westin.  It’s pretty touristy, but I’ve always wanted to go and had never been.  Joey had taken several of his lady friends before me there, so it was all old hat to him.  He’s so debonair, right?

It was a fabulous dinner, timed perfectly to watch the sunset over Kennesaw Mountain in the distance.  In fact, it is the reflection of the sunset that is making Joey orange in this picture that our waitress took.

It was so nice to pretend like we were all fancy for a while.  The next morning we had breakfast at J. Christopher and then made the rounds of ridiculously overpriced grocery stores in Buckhead….Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s.  Nothing in particular we needed, we just felt we should at least attend yuppy church since we were at yuppy ground zero and it was Sunday morning and all.  And that was the end of our amazing third anniversary date.  I’m keeping this one, y’all, he is HOT.

sounds kinda like a bank way back when there were more than three, doesn’t it?  anyway, though danny’s second birthday is not for a few more days, his first second birthday pahtee was held on monday.  in the planning stages, we consulted his people and together we decided that his favorite venue would be donoo’s, because it has a most inviting treehouse that he could navigate easily with his closest friends.  and, since it was to be a private affair, with a very exclusive guest list (only playgroup members and their handlers were invited), we wouldn’t even have to advise the restaurant staff beforehand, and also there would be a discount on the facility fee (we didn’t pay a thing). our people then consulted one of his playgroup friend’s people to see if they wanted to have a joint event.  they did, and their people brought the cupcakes.  so technically, this was danny and kate’s first and second second birthday party, since kate had already had her first second birthday party.  (oh, lord, i have been watching too much faux reality tv, and it’s showing, i’m afraid.)  sadly, the photographer that the party planner hired was a big disappointment, but here is the best of a bad lot.

the birthday boy with an impossibly arranged left foot.  also, the booty of a friend.

and the birthday girl, begging to be released to climb the great treehouse.

and annabelle.  this is the girl version of danny.  when db looks through pictures, he points at pictures of annabelle and says ‘ninny.’  i don’t think he’s trying to be insulting or insinuating.  that’s just how he says danny.

thanks to all who attended and made danny (and kate)’s first (and second) second birthday party a smashing success (i tried clarification by parenthesization there, did it work?).  and the lavish gifts.  really, the diamond encrusted medallion and the pinky ring were too too much.  where can we take those back and return them for a miniature escalade?  ennyhoo, i’ll be sure and fill you all in on danny’s second second birthday when the time comes.  i know you’ll be waiting with bated breath.

p.s.  I know I said I would use capital letters now.  And I will, but I wrote this post before the handsome man pointed out that my refusal to capitalize makes things difficult to read.  Even though I do a lot of crazy stuff, like edit my blog and answer emails at 4 a.m., I like to think I’m not actually crazy enough to go back and change all these lowercase letters.  Not at 4 a.m.  Work with me, here.  And speaking of working with me, thank you to all my mommy friends who stopped by because I begged them to, a few even leaving comments about Danny’s little brother who is allegedly a girl.

Not there.  At least it wasn’t visible today.  And so, therefore, with all accompanying fanfare and flourish, we announce that Danny’s little brother is:  A GIRL!  (probably).

And boy is she bashful.  She wouldn’t show her face, and she didn’t much want to show her ‘area’, either (would you?).  The ultrasound tech said it was a girl, though, and showed us where the boy parts weren’t.

How else to celebrate discovering the probable gender of Danny’s little brother than with big fat yeast rolls at O’Charley’s?  We couldn’t think of a better way.  So we ordered some super healthy food (what the hell was that thing called, Joey?) and discussed girl names.  No decisions, but some good options.  If you want, contribute your best girl name idea.  Oh, and FYI:  Hawaiian rolls are old and busted; restaurant yeast pillows covered in butterlike product are the new hotness.

Oh, hello, pregnancy hormones!  How i’ve missed you!  And nothing like a grand entrance, to really kick things off.  Now that all three of my male readers are gone (though i must tell you, there is useful information to be found within this post) here’s what happened:  Joey came home (yeah, a lot of hormone stories start that way for me…I dunno), the new owner of an Apple TV.  Something about it will replace the black XBox.  (not the white XBox, it’s just on loan from work, duh.)  Anyway, he used his Best Buy gift card he’s been sitting on for months, finally, and bought himself something he really wanted.  Great.  It didn’t cost any real money, he wanted it, terrific.  And Ben and Jerry’s was giving away ice cream cones on Tuesday if you told them you voted.  See how those two things work together?  Yeah, he didn’t either.  I guess i had it in my mind that even though the closest Ben and Jerry’s is at least 20 minutes away at that one mall that got shot up that one time just as danny and I sat down to a chicken salad sandwich, still, for fun, I’d get a free ice cream cone.  You know, Election Day!  etc.  But, since he said that it clearly wasn’t worth the drive to go get a free ice cream (he was right, of course), I decided I’d be a big person and settle for something closer.  Anything closer.  McDonald’s, Bruster’s, just somewheres with hot fudge.  Yeah, no.  Because i don’t know if this ever happens at your house, but sometimes at our house, we have this ‘we have to stop spending money’ conversation.  Like the night before this whole quickly-escalating disaster, for example.  So, though the ice cream expedition would have had a minimal cost associated with it, it was a cost nonetheless, and an optional and unnecessary one at that.  So.  Being a rational, male, non-pregnant owner of a fancy and expensive new toy, Joey said ‘how about we don’t.’  Or something like that.  And then I was overtaken by the phantom aroma of hawaiian rolls.  You still with me?  I wouldn’t know where logically to put a paragraph break in this mother, so I think we’ll go with here.  If you’re feeling invested, bear with me.  Pause.  Take a breath.  Grab a snack.  Might i suggest hawaiian rolls?

So now I’m pissed, and he’s pissed that I’m pissed, and we don’t have any hawaiian rolls, nor anything remotely similar.  And he doesn’t even know that hawaiian rolls are involved yet, because I’m just alternately pouting and crying.  Certainly not speaking to him or telling him what the problem is, how it could be fixed, what would save him from this hormonal hell he finds himself swimming in.  Which was hawaiian rolls, of course.  But.  That information was not divulged until a bath and four Curious Georges later.  Also, my grandmother called, and when I burst into tears as I pressed the ignore button because how could I not answer the phone when my grandmother who never calls was calling me?  What if she never called me again?  What if I never spoke to her again?  Still, even with these thoughts, I could not answer the phone.  (She was calling to invite us to Thanksgiving dinner, my voicemail tells me.  She calls every year to invite us, and every year we decline and go to Joey’s grandmother’s.  Wonder if NaNa is developing a complex about it.  Doubtful.)  Anyway, this is when I first know that I have completely lost control of rational thought, and I’ll just have to tell him all the irrational ones and hope that he brings me some hawaiian rolls.  He did.  And I think he actually had fun going on his first my-pregnant-wife-has-lost-her-damn-mind food run.  Yes, that’s right, the first.  I pretended to be able to control myself for the entire first pregnancy.  Yeah, I dunno what I was thinking.  Hawaiian rolls are good, especially when hand-delivered by a handsome man in order to help you recover your damn mind.

***Editorial note:  this is also the post in which I grew up and started using capital letters.  The handsome man said my writing is hard to read without them.  I will hold onto my sentence fragments and overuse of parentheses until the bitter end, though, dammit.***

it’s election day, y’all!  in honor of the occasion, i thought i would share my voting experience for this election.  from various sources, i gathered that a. an advanced voting option was available, b. lines of varying (but uniformly disheartening) lengths were involved, and c. there was no way to know if advanced voting would take more or less time than regular voting on election day.  what i did know was that if i went for the advanced voting, i could go solo, and if i did it on election day, i would have a two-year-old protege in tow.  yeah, exactly.  i went for the advanced voting.

last thursday, i dropped off my protege at ‘coe,’ which is how he says school.  my best intelligence indicated that the advanced voting station at a mall was my best option.  i had already determined that the station nearest my home was not a good option, having driven past it a number of times last week to see an astounding line, wrapped around the building, in really cold weather.  the mall situation was indoors, i happened to know.  so that’s where i went.  i arrived just before 10, and felt quite droopy to note that i had to walk probably a quarter of a mile to find the end of the line.  but then i was informed it should only take about an hour and a half, so i felt better.  THEN my worst nightmare of a line companion sidled up behind me and asked if she could go to the bathroom.  i think you should really volunteer your name at least before requesting bathroom privileges, but that’s just me.  then she told me for the first of 348 times that had she known that the line was indoors, she would have left her big, heavy coat in the car.  i pulled out my phone and furiously started texting, and then, because my phone was almost dead, i pulled out my very fat novel, and hoped that she’d get the idea that i was a snotty brat not interested in making friends in the polling line.  she didn’t really, but she did find easier prey behind her, and mostly left me alone after that.

while in the two-hour line, i saw an old work buddy, tom jones.  yeah, hard times for aging welsh pop singers.  k, not really, different tom jones.  one time at ibm when we were really bored, we had a pool going about how much change tom jones kept in his pockets.  he was very jingly.  i lost…i think i had $11, and the total was over $14.  anyway, he caught me up on how nobody i know works there anymore.  he calls me tofurkey, because i was a vegetarian when i first started working there, and i made the mistake of mentioning that particular vegetarian atrocity in front of him.  i tried to tell him i’m much more likely to eat a turducken than a tofurkey now, but to no avail.  in fact, his wife, whom i had never met, and who was standing right beside him asked:  ‘who is she?’ to which he replied, ‘that’s tofurkey.’  and she knew exactly who i was.  so i guess the tofurkey really made an impression on their family.

as the line slowly inched forward, i finally could see the end of it.  i could see where the polling would take place, and it was….jocks and jills?  seriously?  i’m going to cast my ballot in a sports bar?  as it turns out, it was an optical illusion, and i actually cast my ballot in another, more abandoned restaurant across the way, the former name of which i cannot recall.  jocks and jills did come around with hot cocoa, though.  i was too busy texting to take advantage of it, plus i figured i would have to pee, and i didn’t want to ask for bathroom privileges, so i passed.  but still, nice and all.  so whatever, i voted.  and since i had been smelling subway sandwiches for over an hour by the time i voted, i went back into the mall and got a sandwich.  i ate it, got back in my momvan, and went back to pick up my protege.  joey asked if i didn’t feel a little ripped off having to use my entire morning off to vote.  and sure, i did, a little.  but i saw a couple of moms there with their toddler proteges, and let me just say:  NO THANK YOU.  rip me off, but i’m not standing in a two hour line with THAT.  ferreal.

happy voting, all.  may it take you less time than it did me, and may you also be offered hot cocoa.

surely you expected this.  if i’m going to post every day this month, there will be a couple of recipes (including, i feel, joey’s birthday cupcakes.  not your ordinary cupcake, i assure you).  but they’ll be good, don’t worry.  and easy, that’s really all i do.  also, don’t be concerned that we will overuse the eponymous canned cheese in our recipes.  while we enjoy aerosol cheese as much as the next family, we rarely use it in recipes….we just spray it on triscuits, or right into our mouths.  no, faithful readers, (and i realize i may lose you here, jackie), today we’re talking about large hunks of beef.  some are so bold as to call this recipe the best beef dip ever…..at least that’s what it’s called on allrecipes.com.  i won’t pretend to be a connoisseur of roast beef or beef dips, but i will say this one is good and quite possibly the easiest beef dip ever.  my sister danyelle showed me the recipe a few years ago and i whip it out when i want lots of good cook points without having to do much work.  i made it yesterday in honor of joey’s birthday weekend (i’ve just been notified that this will now be extended to birthday week.  of course, of course.)

here’s what you do:  get a roast (yesterday i used top round because it was on sale at stuportarget when i went friday).  the recipe calls for a 4 pounder, which i never see.  i used two 2.5 pounders.  put the roast in the crockpot.  throw in a spring of fresh rosemary (if you’d like to swing by and take some from our mailbox rosemary forest, feel free), or use dried if you must.  throw in two cloves of garlic…..i leave them whole so i can fish them out after, and threefour bay leaves.  add a small bottle of soy sauce (i use kikkoman less sodium, 10 oz) and six cups of water, or enough to cover the roast.  put your crock pot on low and cook it all day.  today, after about 7 hours, i took out one of the roasts and replaced it with some quartered potatoes and let them cook for about two hours on low.  they were good.  danny even ate a couple.  last night we had the roast, potatoes, and asiago cheese bread.  tonight we will have roast beef and cheese on french bread (with horseradish, of course), with little bowls of beef juice (or jus, if you’re fronch) on the side.  then i’ll strain and save the rest of the juice/jus and ideally, in theory, if all goes according to plan (qualified enough?) make french onion soup later in the week.  k?  good.  sorry there are no pictures in my first recipe post, but really, crock pots and raw chunks of cow are not really so attractive anyway, no?

here’s the version you can print out:

lazy cook’s pot roast (adapted from this recipe at allrecipes.com)

INGREDIENTS
4 pounds (give or take) beef chuck roast
2 cloves garlic, whole
1 sprig fresh rosemary
3-4 bay leaves
1 cup kikkoman lower sodium soy sauce (or whatever you have)
6 cups water

Place roast in slow cooker.  Season with garlic, rosemary, and bay leaves.  Pour in soy sauce and water.  Cook on low setting for 6 to 10 hours.  Lie to everyone and tell them it was very difficult and you’re exhausted.  See if they’ll bring you dessert.

yeah, me too.  but he’s my kid and this is our blob.  so, please endure just a few more with me.

does anyone remember halloween last year here at easycheese?  or last year?  or last year?  the year where i dressed danny in not one, not two, but three halloween costumes in one day, and fully documented each with their own post?  yeah, not so much this year.  jackie and all other first time mothers of very small children, take note:  take advantage of supreme halloween authority over your children while it lasts.  last year, db was barely irritated with me for putting him through all that.  this year, he was extremely opinionated about his costume selection, and in fact, the only reason he agreed to it at all was because he did not know it was a costume.  we started with a plush monkey suit, complete with banana in hand, curly tail, and an adorable hood that framed his angelic face.  perfect because he adores curious george, he was precious, and it would keep him warm.  he even tried it on at ‘togget,’ and actually got mad when i took it off of him.  yeah, well, the love affair ended when we brought it home and i tried to put it on him here.  of course he wasn’t dressing up in a monkey suit.  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO he wasn’t.

i didn’t fight long.  it’s halloween; it’s in the bylaws that it must be fun.  wrestling my child into a suit he hates is fun for none.  plan b:  a costume he doesn’t know is a costume.  cowboy.  done.  then i just had to find the boots, and a hat he would wear at least long enough to get a picture.  that only took about three hours and trips to 7 stores.  the good news is that he’ll wear the boots until his little pigeon-toed feet outgrow them.  holy MOLY he is cute in those boots…..how he can walk (no, run) in a straight line when his feet are perpendicular to each other, i have no idea, but it is a sight to behold.  i digress.  he was a cowboy.  a poorly accessorized, poorly documented cowboy, who is not even looking at the camera.  and it’s blurry.  but let’s just call that arty, can we?  we had a bouncy castle to get to, and he’s just spotted it.

so we jumped in the bouncy castle, played games, and untrick-or-treated at danny’s school’s fall festival.  then we came home to trick-or-treat on our street.  no, it’s not particularly a kid kind of neighborhood, but we thought surely we’d find at least one or two lights on.  false.  not one house on our street was ready to treat our little woody in all his resplendent cowboyness.  good thing he had no idea what was going on, but i was disappointed.  he just wanted to see the pahteen with the ‘wight’ in it that we had lit before we left.

and just because it’s my last chance til next year, here is danny making his boots work for him in another pumpkin patch.  and that’s a wrap for halloween 2008.