A New Man In My Life

For a couple weeks now I've been cheating. His name is Reggie. He is sweet, gorgeous (but that's not why I love him), and I can tell by the way he responds to my petting, that he is needy. When we first saw each other, it was love at first sight. Well, I can't speak for him, I guess, and he's sort of a quiet guy, so there's really no telling what exactly is going on in his mind. I feel very guilty that I'm going behind Zach's back, but I can't stop loving Reggie. Zach has no idea yet, but Reggie is coming to live with us. It's just a question of when and how it's going to go down.

You see, I met Reggie at the pet store when I was in there looking for litter box pellets. I didn't even have in mind that I might meet someone, but all of a sudden there he was across the room. Even though I was a good ten feet away and didn't have my glasses on, I knew it. I approached him with my children in hand, squatted down to his level and looked around to make sure no one else could see us and I cracked open his cage to give some much-needed attention.

You have guessed by now that Reggie is of the non-human variety. He's a rabbit. I have a sweet spot for rabbits - always have. We used to have four, now we're down to three. They are 7, 7 and 6 years old, and they can live to 11 or 12 years. I think Zach is sort of waiting for the rabbit thing to run it's course, but even so, over the years we've seen other rabbits that have caught our attention and we've wanted to give them a home. We've always come to our senses, but this time is different. Of the rabbits who live with us now, none of them were planned. We brought them home one-by-one as we found them in the shelter or living in someone's basement under a milk crate with potato peels for food.

Reggie is at the pet store because his owner, who was an employee at the pet store, passed away. When I was there that first day, a girl who works there saw me so I started asking her questions about Reggie. That's when I learned his name, age (6) and circumstances. When I was checking out at the counter I casually mentioned to the girl checking me out that Reggie was really sweet, and that the first employee had told me he was going to live at the pet store as sort of a 'house bunny', but to please take my name down incase he ever needed a home.

I have rendezvoused with Reggie three times since then, always going back to the pet store with some lame excuse. On the third time I was there, an employee who knows me well (Em) came over while I was visiting with Reggie. She had heard I was in love with him and I explained how I'd sort of given them my name, but that I was in no position to actually take Reggie home, and that Zach would kill me if he knew I was even considering it. But then next time I came back, the Em came over and told me how she was 'working on it' to have the pet store peeps let me take him home. I got all, "No, noooo, I can't do that!" But then felt the call to duty. Em said she could tell Reggie was depressed and that he needed a new home. She didn't agree with the majority, and added that I'm the only person she would consider sending him home with.

So before I knew it, and without me even planning it, I am in the works to become Reggie's new number 1 human. Uh-oh. I don't care. It's fate. How else can you explain the way I was drawn to him from across the room? Or felt his presence in my heart before I even saw him with my eyes? Some people feel this way about having a baby, or meeting their soulmate. Well Reggie is one of my soulmates. I don't believe in one actual soulmate for a person, but rather that there are many soulmates for each of us, human or non-human, who we are destined to meet and have our paths cross for a while.

While Zach still has no idea about any of this, I'm already busy making plans in my head, and preparing the other rabbits for an expanded family. I've been making another attempt to get them all to get along. In our rabbit family it's the first two against the last one, and they tear each other apart if they ever are out of their cages together. But this time I am determined to get them to get along so we can have one big, happy rabbit family.

A reminder why I should always have my camera with me

Uh....Where to start? What is this? Why is God's name is it riding in the back of this truck? Is this some sort of statement?

Anyway, this was too good to not take a picture of. I was at a red light when I came upon this scene and Thank God I actually had my camera with me. I didn't hesitate in whipping it out to take a couple shots through the windshield. My mom was actually with me, she in the passenger's seat, with me driving. After the light turned green and I didn't have a great shot, she even offered to take the wheel so I could get another picture!

I really have no idea what this is supposed to be, where that poor lady is headed, or what her fate will be. I don't think I want to know...

Twenty Years

Here is what I remember: I was in the kitchen, scooping white sugar out of the blue plastic container. I was nine. The container was on the stool next to the short counter. We were making pie for Thanksgiving. My mother had just been in the room with me but all of a sudden she was screaming from upstairs. It was the worst scream I had ever heard, the kind you only think happens in movies. I dropped the sugar and it landed all over the floor, white powder spewed everywhere.

I was in the bathroom upstairs, trying to put on my sneakers and tie them with shaking hands. My mother was there.

We couldn't find my brother, he was in his freshman year of college. He was at a local college, but lived away from home. Then he was home with a plastic bag from the movie store where he'd been renting movies.

I was on someone's lap in the back of a police car, my sister, my brother, my mother were all there and we were stopped at a red light. I think of that moment every time I pass under that traffic light, I still do twenty years later. My mother asked if we could just go through the red light. The police officer put on his lights and went through the red signal. He wasn't very compassionate.

I remember being in the hospital. It was too late. He'd died immediately. I didn't go in the room. At nine I knew I wanted to remember him alive. I don't remember who I stayed with then.

We were back at home. Lots of people where there. I was somewhere alone with my mother and I asked her what we were going to do. All she could say was that we'd take it one day at a time.

I didn't want to be around the people.

Later that night I crawled into bed with my sister. It was the only time I ever remember feeling loved, feeling comforted by her. She said something to me, of which I can't remember. It must have been the right thing to say because twenty years later I remember the feeling that it gave me. It made me feel like perhaps we were connected after all. Maybe she told me she loved me.

My aunt and uncle stayed with us for a long time. Several days, I seem to remember it being.

The next day was Thanksgiving. My aunt, uncle and two cousins on the other side of my family came home from out of town to be with us. We had a somber Thanksgiving dinner. I was sitting on the same stool the sugar had been on the day before.

Then I remember being at the wake. I stayed mostly in the back with my cousins, playing cards and doing kid things. I think of green velvet when I remember this experience. Maybe that's what I was wearing.

It was time to say goodbye to my father. I touched his hand. It was cold and hard. I recoiled; had not expected that. I should have left well enough alone.

Back at home I felt suffocated. School was out for Thanksgiving break. I couldn't wait to go back to school, to get away from all the grieving people. I would do the grieving in my own time, several years later, on my own, in college.

On Sunday it will be twenty years and these are the images that play through my mind like it was yesterday. These images make up more than all of my memories of my father when he was alive, combined. I can't hear his voice in my head. He used to visit me in my dreams a lot, but that doesn't happen anymore.

Day Eight: Who's the Traitor?

Well I didn't post anything for two days because there was nothing new to report. The friggin crock pot is still in the sink. I've done sink-full after sink-full of dishes, each time leaving the dish in question behind. At this point I'm convinced that someone has tipped Zach off because not only has he not washed it, but he hasn't even said anything. Who is it? I thought for sure he'd have done it by now, at least out of guilt for having been doing so many side jobs lately.

Nor have I take any pictures of it because I've grown apathetic about the whole thing. I doubt anyone else is enjoying reading about it anymore, maybe nobody else thought it was funny to begin with.

The only thing that has changed is that the stagnant water in the crock has grown cloudy. It really smells too. Not like a big emanating smell, but if you stick your face in there a little bit of your nose hair seems to get burnt off. Yesterday for some reason I was like a butterfingers doing the dishes and things kept falling off the drying rack into the schmaltz water. And today Jacob was throwing around one of Sabine's toys like it was a baseball. Into the water it went.

This morning before he left for his current paint job, Zach told me the faucet in the kitchen is really acting up (because it is only six years old and leaks like crazy) and that I should try not to use it today. Is he kidding me? Is he trying to get a rise out of me, daring me to not wash the crock pot?

I may have just done myself in though. I promised to make this a completely natural experiment, with no prompting of Zach to do the dishes or anything like that. No mentioning of it at all. I just wanted to see how many days it would take my husband to wash a dish that is just SITTING THERE, growing things.

Well we were both just standing there in the kitchen, right next to the sink, I was off the the left cleaning something up from dinner and there were just a shit ton of dishes. The absurdity of the situation struck me. There is this nasty dish sitting in the sink and I'm trying to ignore it. Zach knows I am as anal as they come, how can he not notice this dish in the sink and not realize it must be bugging the shit out of me?? We're both standing there not mentioning the elephant in the room. Does he really not see this?

I really, really just wanted to sit down and type this out so I sort of asked Zach if he would do some dishes. "You know, just some of these around here on the counter, just to get some of them out of the way." I tried to cover. If Zach washed the crock because of what I said, then I will have to admit defeat by a technicality. I will not have been the one to wash it, but I cracked nevertheless.

My urging might have been the thing to throw him over the edge. When I walked into the living room to hang out with Jacob I heard the kitchen faucet start to run. Will this be the conclusion? We'll see...

Day Six: Baby Steps

Here we are at day 6. There is much to report on.

Yesterday morning all four of us were up before Zach left for work (a rarity). Things were happening in the kitchen, breakfasts were being prepared, messes were being made, so much was going on that I didn't notice the crock had been moved.
Upon further investigation I saw that the 'schmaltz', as I have been informed is the technical word for what's going on in that dish (thanks Pegeen, and yes, it was cream of mushroom), had been dumped.
Where could it be? A quick search produced the answer. Zach had dumped it into an empty cereal bag. We use these bags for compost, so I guess that's what he had in mind for the schmaltz? I don't think the stuff is appropriate for the compost, not unless we want our children's children growing a fifth limb (considering we use the compost on our vegetable garden); not to mention the fact that you can't compost meat waste anyway. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt though because that bag was probably the best option as we wouldn't want any leakage into the garbage.
The thing is, this mess was just sitting on a kiddie table in the middle of the kitchen. Did he think it was it was going to get up and walk itself to the garbage? Actually, I'm inclined to believe that might be true - take a look at the close-up, I'm pretty sure the schmaltz is about to grow legs.
I'm sorry for that picture. I hope you weren't planning to eat for the rest of the day.

Zach came home at lunchtime yesterday and so we were all in the kitchen again. I was making lunch and he was playing with the kids. At one point he was fiddling around with something near the crock. He pointed out the crock and said, "Look Pookie, I emptied that out for you." My brain was screaming expletives but I had to keep my cool and responded in a neutral tone, "Oh, thanks." For ME? How does he figure that was for me? It was his chicken and his job to clean it up.

That evening I cooked a pretty involved dinner which produced many dishes. I was working hard to knock them off when Zach came downstairs from getting Sabine ready for bed. He informed me she was ready to nurse and could I please take her right away? He would finish the dishes.

I guess what he meant was some dishes because it appears that when the drying rack was full, Zach stopped washing dishes. I didn't realize this until this morning. I'm ashamed that I often go to bed with the kitchen left in shambles. It never used to be that way - I wouldn't be able to sleep unless everything was clean. Now I guess I'm just so exhausted all the time that falling asleep isn't as much of a problem as it used to be.

At some point this morning after the kids were fed and I had time to address the situation forming in and around the kitchen sink, I suddenly noticed the crock was gone. I actually looked in the box for it before realizing it was just in the sink. Soaking, apparently.
Oh good. Some of my cooking utensils are in there soaking as well. Soaking up some nice chicken ooze. Those were fun to clean. Halfway through doing the dishes I needed my little plastic scraper to get some gunk off of last night's casserole dish. I couldn't find it where it's usually kept and I got the feeling in my gut that it was at the bottom of this:
Yup, I had to reach in there and pull it out.

Anyway, here's where it stands: I've done dishes a couple times today, leaving only the crock pot behind. I know Zach's been in the kitchen several times today. In fact, he even washed his paint brushes out in the sink. Everyone else is in bed for the night, so I know it's not getting done today. Zach has to leave early to paint again. We'll see what the status is when I get up.

Jacob's Birthday Party

So Jacob turned six last week! He'd been talking about his birthday party for many months and requesting certain details, themes, etc. I decided that rather than one big party (too many people in the house at once) with family and a few close friends, we'd make this the year that the dreaded 'friend party/family party' split happened. Although, things were so crazy with other celebrations/Halloween/work schedules that we never got around to having the family party.

The last cake request I remember getting from Jacob was a baseball, or maybe it was just the easiest. When I picked Beckie's brain about it she recommended using a mixing bowl to bake it in. I did a large mixing bowl for the biggest part, a round cake pan for what would be the base, and a small mixing bowl for what would be the top.

I wrapped them in saran wrap (the keep the moisture in) and froze them (easier to frost). Some trimming had to be done to make them all form into the shape of a ball. While it didn't come out perfect, I think it looked pretty good for a cake-artist novice.

The frosting was what took the longest because, alas, my impatience kicked in and I took them out of the freezer before they were done freezing. So all the crumbs kept chunking up while I was spreading on the frosting.
But there it is. Close enough, right? The red stitching looks different than what I had envisioned, but I didn't have to do it myself so that's the price I pay. Also, the nozzle wasn't fine enough so the lettering was too big to write anymore than Jacob's name and a 6. But it tasted awesome just the same and he really liked it!I got one of those 'all ready to be decorated' crafts because I thought the kids would need something fun to do when they first came in and I was still running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I thought it would be nice if they had a craft to make that didn't fully involve recycled materials so I let Jacob pick one out and he went with the flower pot. I'd intended to dry some of the pumpkin seeds from our garden and put them in little baggies for the kids to plant in the spring, sort of as a little party favor, but that never happened.

I'd wanted to do an outdoor scavenger hunt with the kids, but I was afraid of what the weather might be like so that sort of morphed into a treasure hunt with a twist to take place indoors. I took photographs of certain objects or patterns in the house, printed them out and then cut them into puzzle pieces.

Each 'puzzle' was placed in a baggie (purchased especially for this occasion because lord knows I never have baggies) and then labeled each one with a child's name. The party guests in attendance ranged in age from 2 to 7 so I wanted to make sure every kid got a chance to solve a puzzle and the bigger kids didn't just take over. Forethought, people. I actually tailored each kid's puzzle to their age and whatnot.
The first clue was given out, and it took them an incredibly long time to figure out that the place they should be headed was the milk box on the front steps. And over half of the kids at the party get the same milk delivered that we do, so I thought this would be easy. Within the milk box was the first picture clue. It had to be pieced together and then identified. Once identified, the kids had to find where in the house that object was (eg. a green lattice picture frame). Behind that picture frame was the next clue, and so on.
The kids really liked this activity and I was so excited to have come up with an idea like that, but it took a really long time. The one thing I need to do differently next time is make the puzzles easier! The 2 year old's puzzle was four square pieces, but what I should have done is just give him a plain ole picture in one piece. And then for the rest of the kids I would give them four pieces instead of the sever or eight they got. Plus I cut them up into crazy shapes - will just stick with normal lines and whatnot next time.

The last clue was a picture of our shower curtain, and I'd given that one to Jacob so he could be the one to find the 'treasure'. He could not figure out what the hell it was. Shower much? Anyway, someone eventually did and they tore upstairs and into the shower.
This is the pinata that Jacob and I made from scratch! Ew, please ignore the moldy caulk in the corner. The kids each took a cloth goodie bag and we proceeded outside to beat the crap out of the baseball. It was a natural step from the baseball cake to the baseball pinata - plus what could be easier to make from a round balloon than a round baseball? I love this picture of Jacob hitting it with the bat.
I loved making the pinata with Jacob. He helped with all three layers but the outside layer ended up being a surprise. We did the recommended three layers but when I went to decorate it the night before I got nervous that it would crack at the first hit and only one kid would get a turn. So I added a fourth layer and had to dry it in front of a heater for a couple hours. Then the next day, just a couple hours before the party, it was still not decorated because of the extra drying time. I was running out of time so Zach suggested he'd paint it since he already had the right colors.

I don't know if it was the fourth layer, or the professional grade paint, but that thing was never cracking open. We would have been out there all day, except the string finally came away from the pinata and it landed on the ground with a thud. We all stood there not knowing what to do so I finally picked it up, ripped it open with my hands and tossed it into the air.

That did the trick and no one really cared after that. What I'll do next time is either skip the fourth layer of paper mache or not use such heavy-duty paint. Oh, and definitely secure the string better.

The boys were so tired after the party that they both passed out on the couch after everyone left. And I got to clean up. All in all, I was pretty proud of myself. It wouldn't have my trademark signature if things didn't go wrong. I feel like I've crossed another rite of passage as a mother: The Kid Party.

Day Five: Game On

Welp. The Yanks won last night.

Jacob requested we get Chinese food last night, which is a rare treat, so I said yes because Zach was going to be working late, again. This means there wasn't much dinner cleanup. In fact, I have gotten so lazy in this recent wave of Zach working late that I didn't bother doing any dishes last night and the kitchen is a mess. You know, now that I'm thinking about it, it's almost like I left the kitchen a mess on purpose to disguise the chicken gook (yeah, that's what I'll call it) because I was afraid Zach might actually clean it up.

I needn't have worried. There was never any mention of it. The reason I thought it might happen is because Zach couldn't sit down for most of the game. I kept urging him to and he'd just look at me, a little wild-eyed, and say, "I can't, I have to stand up." Poor thing was so nervous. It was around this point he told me he might actually not go to bed at all. I think it came up because I said something about the rabbit cages and he told me he'd do them after the game. Say what?

Understandably, I thought the kitchen might get cleaned. Like I said, I was dreaming.

Below are the pictures. One I took yesterday when I thought it might be my last photo op. I cheated though, I moved it from the counter in order to get a better shot. I put it right back though, I mean, after I tested its reaction to gravity. Guess what. It didn't budge. I held it completely perpendicular to the ground and the only thing that happened is a little bit of unsolidified juices ran from the center. I'm assuming this is just what's left of the water. or maybe some kind of oil that remains liquid at room temperature?

** Fun fact - It jiggles! Like Jello! Hm, what does that say about what's in Jello?

Here is the picture I took this morning. It's not very good because Zach was just in the other room and I didn't dare draw attention to the counter area by moving things around. Notice the line of delineation on the top, a little to the right. Is it just me, or has it receded a little more?

Look at all the pretty colors! To be fair, I have to mention that this is not all just from the chicken. What I did was I cooked it in mushroom soup. Being a vegetarian, I'm not sure if that is an appropriate thing to do with chicken? I thought it might infuse some yummy taste into the chicken...but what it really seems to have done is add more life to the gook by way of colors and fun texture. Let me ask you this, knowing now that there's mushroom in there, does that answer some questions about the nastiness, or does it just make it that much worse?

More Fun with The Husband Experiment

Remember The Great Husband Experiment of 2008? That was some good, clean fun. Well The Husband Experiment is baaAAaack, compliments of our latest kitchen appliance: The Slow Cooker.

Here's the synopsis: I purchased a slow cooker earlier this year and have been really enjoying the fact that I can cook more meals for Zach that include meat (in our otherwise vegetarian household) without me actually having to handle it. The deal is that I do most of the cooking of it, but if there's any sort of action that included prolonged handling of the rotting animal flesh, Zach has to take care of that. I'd cooked these chicken parts that had bones in them, not sure what kind, I tried not to look. Zach ate them for dinner and the rest stayed in there while he went to watch Game 4 of the World Series.

I am not a Yankees fan, as are the boys of the house, so I decided I was too tired to make it through the whole game awake. I cleaned up the kitchen and told Zach that I was going to bed so could he please remember to strip the chicken off the bones per our agreement? I'd told him earlier that I'd like him to strip the bones so that I could freeze the chicken bits and later make chicken pot pie from scratch for him. I left a container out for him to put the chicken in and went to bed.

The next morning I was pleased to find that Zach had remembered to take care of the chicken and did not let it sit out all night to rot. However, the 'juices' were still sitting in the slow cooker. This is not out of the ordinary. Often times Zach will leave the juices of something cooked to solidify in order to more easily clean it up later on. He also has more energy for tasks like this in the morning. I assumed that after the coffee was brewed and he was fully awake, he'd probably get rid of the now-hardened chicken slime.

Funny, after Zach left for work and I was back downstairs getting everyone breakfast, I noticed the slow cooker was still as I had previously seen it. Hm. This is the first indication of trouble. We'll call this day 2.

Later that night Zach remarked that we should have dumped the chicken juices over the dogs' food when we fed them the night prior. "Oh yeah, they would have loved that last night. Too bad it's infested with bacteria by now," I remarked. I didn't give the stuff anymore thought that night. Again, the Yankees were playing and everyone was distracted, our routine still being messed up because of the World Series.

When I got up to run pre-dawn the next morning, I couldn't believe my eyes that the stuff was still there. I was all bleary-eyed though, so I rubbed them a little and tried to refocus. Nope. Well, the Yankees had lost the night before so maybe that was Zach's excuse for not cleaning up. But if that's so, they'd won the night before so common sense would dictate that he would have cleaned it up the night he was in a good mood, right? So begins Day 3.

Later on that day while I was making lunch I had to clear some space so I took the inner crock out of the clow cooker and put the larger electrical parts back in the box and onto the shelf where they are stored. I was going to clean up the chicken mess, but upon further investigation I just decided my stomach couldn't take it. The kids and I left the house after lunch for Jacob's gym class.

I expected Zach to be working late so Jacob, Sabine and I went to my mom's house to hang out for a while. Zach actually beat us home so on the phone we talked about him cleaning out the rabbit cages and getting other stuff done around the house while waiting for me and the kids to pick him up to go vote.

Back at home after a quick trip to the polling place, I started dinner. Funny, the crock pot was still there. Oh well, it will get taken care of after dinner because there's no Yankees game on, I thought to myself.

After a late dinner when Zach had started talking 'going to bed early', I was about to ask him to clean up the chicken stuff before he retired for the night. But instead of doing so, I saw an opportunity and grabbed my camera:

This is the scene of the investigation.
The sink is just to the right, you know,
the place where someone might clean out
something like this. The coffee maker (i.e, the
thing Zach and I both use a couple times a day,
is just to the left.

Exhibit A: You can see from that upper film,
which is separated from the hardened juice by
black (we'll call this the line of delineation), where
the stuff once came to. Over the course of 48
hours much of it has evaporated.

Exhibit B: This picture is shown to demonstrate
the detail and texture of the stuff.

Now here we are beginning Day 4. I think it is time to give the 'stuff' an official name. I'll think on that today and get back to you. Feel free to leave your suggestions. As for my prediction: Tonight is game 6...if the Yankees win, there's actually a good chance Zach may clean this thing up. Part of me will be disappointed, but then again, I'll be able to use the slow cooker at long last so there's an up side either way. If the Yankees lose, there's no chance of it being cleaned up.

The cheaper, more natural, better-for-you way to clean

A friend e-mailed me last month with link to this blog post about using oil to clean your face. I also read the one about cleaning your hair without shampoo. I'm not going to get uber-detailed here because it's all there on the Simple Mom website, but I will say that I have been doing both and I think both methods are fantastic. I highly recommend them!

Right away I tried the shampoo-free method by mixing a little bit of baking soda with water (I just eye ball it as I do everything, but they suggest 1 tablespoon to 1 cup of water). It supposedly takes a transition time for your hair to get used to not having to overcompensate by producing more oil, but I had no trouble with that.

From the first time I used it, my hair was really soft and awesome. I've always had so much trouble with my curly, fine hair and getting into these awful cycles of using more product to combat the product that I used for problem X, Y, Z. Since the baking soda the only product I've used is a tiny bit of hairspray to add a little texture to my post-baby wings (moms know what I'm talking about) from where the hair is growing back in after losing it in chunks. They recommend using apple cider vinegar as a rinse, but I haven't done that yet simply because I keep forgetting to buy it. What I'm doing is just using a little bit of conditioner - a fraction of what I used before - after the baking soda mixture (or is it a solution?). Each time I wash my hair I actually use less and less conditioner.

My hair's better than it's ever been. Way less frizzy, the curl holds all day long without product, way less snarly. I think everyone should try it! Oh, and the best part about it is that I spend way less time on my hair than before!

I'm also doing the washing-your-face-with-oil one too. I'm wicked excited about that too, but am thinking this one will be a little more gross to some people. I mixed equal parts extra virgin olive oil and castor oil (the only thing I didn't already have on hand), a few drops of lavender oil, and some baobab oil for kicks just because I had it. I've been using oils therapeutically and to replace other moisturizers for years anyway, so this was right up my alley. I love it. That's all I can really say until you try it yourself.


wash my hair with baking soda and water, and wash my face with the oil mixture.

Waiting for Mama's Coffee to Brew

This picture is from over the summer but I just came across it again and couldn't resist posting it. I think you can guess what my favorite part of it is!