From our house to yours, I hope you have a safe, fun, candy filled Halloween!
I suppose that I should finish up Sheriff Woody’s costume. That’s his best buddy Ollie as Buzz. And his cousin Myles is going to be Rex, but his slacker Dad didn’t have a costume ready for him on Sunday when we went to a trick or treat event, so he’s masquerading as Spiderman. The three of them are a Toy Story force to be reckoned with.
What are your munchkins going as?
So today, you don’t get a real post. Only a post that is a fake post telling you I’ll be back for a real post soon.
Why am I slacking on the post today?
My inlaws and my mother are coming to my house for Halloween. And that means my house has to be clean. Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest clean.
Which incidentally is the nickname we had for my mother while we were growing up. Sometimes we still slip and call her Joan.
It’s not like she beat us with wire hangers, but she did wake us up at 7 am on Saturday mornings blasting the OSU fight song until we got out of bed and cleaned. In my book, that is surely as bad as getting beaten with a wire hanger, right? No? Well it sure felt as bad when you were 16 and none of your friends wanted to spend the night on Friday night because they all knew what was coming.
So, I’m cleaning.
Well, really I’m writing this fake post when I should be cleaning.
And you wonder why I miss having a cleaning person? I would MUCH rather be playing with you guys.
Can we talk Halloween candy today?
Remember when you were a kid and you would hit the trick-or-treat jackpot with the house that handed out full size candy bars? If I had a boatload of cash and a house that didn’t get 500 kids, I would totally be that house.
If nothing else, I’m pretty sure the look on Dave’s face when I tell him I spent $250 on Halloween candy would make it worth it. Oh sure, there are the kids’ happy faces too, but really it’s all about screwing with Dave.
Dude, it’s not like I’m the house handing out pennies or crappy fake Tootsie Rolls. I hand out the good stuff, it’s just in the fun size.
I’m pretty sure a ‘funner size’ would be full size, but I digress.
I’ve avoided buying any because inevitably what happens in our house is a month before Halloween, we buy 25 pounds of chocolate. Between Dave and I having a snack or two here and there, it’s gone by the time Halloween rolls around. So this year, we just decided to hold off… and by we, I mean I did.
Dave would like nothing more than to snack on a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup or an Almond Joy. Seriously, what kind of weirdo lists Almond Joy as their favorite Halloween candy? It’s like I married a communist.
I think he only loves Almond Joy because I don’t have the heart to hand one to a three year old in a Little Bo Peep costume. I save those for the asshole teenagers who slap on a werewolf mask and trick-or-treat long past their prime, so there are always a ton left over.
The little bug usually chooses something fruity. Gummy things, Skittles, and Smarties are amongst his favorites.
Me? Heath, m&ms, and Butterfinger top my list.
So, what are your faves? And what do you hand out?
We decided to venture to the Pumpkin Farm on a weekday when there weren’t 2938320 people.
It didn’t matter that the snack shop was closed or that they didn’t have hayrides, there was plenty to keep us entertained.
We had important business to attend to. There were chickens to feed.
Goats too.
Pumpkins to choose and a pumpkin perfectionist to satisfy... I am pretty sure J looked at every pumpkin on the farm.
I stocked up on the purpley grey gourds for our Thanksgiving tables.
There were gourds shaped like swans and little girls in hats.
Hay Bale towers with bright yellow slides. And mazes made of hay that you crawled around in. According to the preschool set, it’s cool to be covered in hay.
And bright orange pumpkins and clear blue skies.
And snuggly babies who can’t wait for next year when they can run around with the big boys.
Do you know what I miss most about working?
Having a cleaning person.
{And a nanny.}
I know it’s a weird thing to miss. Even after two years of being home, you just never forget. Do you know the awesomeness of coming home to bathrooms scrubbed clean? Of shiny sparkling floors? Or fresh sheets on your bed? Or refrigerators without fingerprints all over them and windows that gleam in the sun? All done magically without spending an entire day huffing and puffing and doing it myself.
No matter how much I try, I can’t justify the cost to myself {or to Dave} for having someone in to clean when I should could be doing it.
But I miss it. I miss it so.
I am lucky if I get the beds made around this joint on a daily basis. And the mountains of laundry. I don’t even remember the last time my stove was scrubbed down.
So do you have one? Do you want one? I think I need one.
Fair warning to look away. You’ll probably wish I had kept it all in there instead of sharing with you.
Sharing is caring.
Does juice taste like syrup to anyone else? I swear it’s like a concentrate that I have to dilute at least 50% with water for it not to taste so syrupy. Am I the only weirdo that thinks that?
According to my friend Sarah, Adam Morrison of the Wizards looks like a creepy porn star.
I am inclined to agree, though one from the seventies era, no? We texted at length about him last night for reasons that are completely beyond me. The only concrete thing I can say, I am pretty convinced he is one who would be sporting a full head of hair ‘down there’ too. BTW, the image was shamelessly stolen from his Wiki page.
I have 6,809 emails in my inbox. Dave has like 11, everything else is all categorized out and in pretty folders labeled things like “crazy shit from my wife I am afraid to read.” I am really really bad about deleting stuff in case I need to refer back. Here is the weird thing, I have had 27 unread emails since I can remember and now I’m wondering what those 27 things are that I have never read. Are you a deleter or email saver? And someone just tell me to get my ass in there and start reading and deleting.
Wearing heels makes me want to poke my eyes out. I am 5’3” tall, I should love heels for the extra few inches they sneak in, but I don’t because they suck.
I want to see Hereafter, but I am pretty sure that I will cry uncontrollably. In a theater. With lots of strangers. Maybe I should wait for dvd?
Speaking of movie theaters, my friend Amy lives in New York and refuses to see a movie because of bed bugs. Apparently they are spreading like wildfire including places like movie theaters. Ew.
You’re still wondering if Adam has a groin afro aren’t you?
Of course not, only weirdos would think of stuff like that.
Which leads me to my last point. I hate more than anything when people say Happy Hump Day.
Happy Wednesday where I am not thinking of you humping anything. So, if you’re still talking to me after this post, say hello in the comments.
Last year we had a wonderful Halloween party. This year we’re keeping it slightly lower key, based on a wonderful children’s book that Finnegan is currently obsessed with. We’re still having a few guests, though it will mostly be family, followed by trick or treating in the neighborhood.
Monster Mischief is a sweet story written by Pamela Jane. It is the tale of four monsters who make monster stew in a garbage can. Until the fifth, the little one named Moe, shows up and ruins their plans by letting their stew crawl, slither, and fly away into the Halloween night. Needless to say, their dinner is quite happy to have an escape and the monsters are left with empty bellies. Then, the sixth monster shows up with a sack full of something different, something new… all kinds of sweets. That little Moe eats and dances so much that he splits his pants, which Finnegan finds absolutely hilarious.
We’ll be partaking in some hearty monster stew of our own, my Meme’s recipe. Though we won’t be using a garbage can, our huge 22 quart stockpot will make a brilliant substitute. I’ll reuse a lot of the black, purple, and lime green decorations from last year and add just a few pieces in orange and blue and pink to match the napkins and plates I found at Target. I am hoping for a warmer night so we can leave the french doors open and enjoy the front porch one last time this year.
What are your Halloween plans? Do your children trick-or-treat? How do you keep it fun and not frightening for the little ones?
Hotel in Lexington $454
Cookie Cake $25
Tip {left for the most amazing waiter on the planet} $50
Breaking my sister’s dreaded birthday curse PRICELESS
Y’all we spent the weekend speakin’ Southern and every last minute was worth it because Lyndsey? She had an amazing birthday. It was a sister weekend, plus one fifteen year old brother who is probably now scarred for life… and sure sure Ohio State lost which sucks, but that right there is the only thing that went wrong. Ten bonus points for Kentucky kicking the birthday curse’s ass.
We had an amazing dinner at Saul Good Pub on Friday night. If you are ever in Lexington you need to go there & I am so thankful that Jackie recommended it. First, the food is incredible. Second, the customer service is even better than the food. The hostess staff, the manager, and especially our waiter Dru… it was by leaps and bounds, the best customer service we have ever had, ever. They went SO above and beyond I can not recommend them highly enough. If that wasn’t enough, they play the BEST music, New Kids on the Block, UB40, and Cyndi Lauper? Yes, please.
Saturday we spent doing everything Lyndsey wanted to do. Shopping, relaxing, cookie cake, Mellow Mushroom pizza, and several crazy ass rounds of Apples to Apples, watching the OSU game, watching Jersey Shore, and carrying on like idiots most of the day. Don’t forget the wine.
I am pretty sure I am going to need to sleep for a year to recover.
I’m taking the rest of the week/weekend off to finish up a few last minute odds and ends for our sister trip. Currently figuring out a couple birthday surprises for the girls and trying to get some semblance of order restored to the house so Dave isn’t stuck cleaning all weekend. I also have to do some planning for the most important part… the travel snacks.
I hope you have a fabulous weekend. See you Monday!
Sisters. Mine are lunatics. It’s ok, it is a genetic thing. Or maybe environmental since Rachael doesn’t share DNA, but she is still my sister, and a lunatic. Sunday was her birthday and she couldn’t remember that the date was 10.10.10. I am thinking it is spending our formative years with my dad? Maybe that is the link.
We are taking a trip together to visit Elise at college. On Lyndsey’s birthday, which is this coming weekend.
I should tell you that Lyndsey’s birthdays are, how can I put this delicately… epic badness? Apocalyptic? Awful? People, they are just bad. Like really bad.
She went out with her friends on her 20th birthday and they completely forgot her and left her at the bar.
There was the year that we decided to try a new {now closed} fancy restaurant and Lyndsey wanted a hamburger, well done, ketchup only for her meal which they were happy to accommodate. So apparently something happened in the kitchen because our fancy meals came out and Lyndsey’s simple hamburger did not. Happy Birthday you get to sit and watch your family eat your birthday dinner! So she went to the bar because this is back when we used to both smoke and she drank martinis until she was suitably drunk enough to deal with her lack of dinner and waited for her hamburger to arrive which did another twenty minutes later.
And then the year we went to a great Italian place… they served us raw meatballs, then proceeded to spray down the tables with noxious smelling spray while we were still eating. Happy Birthday, you get trichinosis!
Her 19th birthday she got fired.
You see the trend here? She wouldn’t even let me tell you the bad stuff! Pssst… one year I totally walked in on her having sex. If that isn’t a bad way to spend your birthday, I don’t know what is.
I am packing every emergency kit I can think of… just in case. I’m guessing several flat tires, a forgotten room reservation, food poisoning, and a homesick three year old? Take your guesses in the comments and please please say a little prayer for us.
Dave is bowing out of our sister trip. He said something about work and the long hours, not having a sitter for the dog, and yada yada, but he was scheduled to go until he figured out it fell over Lyndsey’s birthday.
Coincidence?
I think not.
That is the question.
Today we’re talking about TV in the bedroom. Do you have one or not?
I am firmly in the no TV camp. Also no laptops.
But lately… lately, I’ve been revisiting the thought probably out of my own sheer laziness. And maybe it WOULD get me into bed earlier if I could snuggle up with Dave and watch my 10 o’clock shows, 95% of the time he falls asleep on the couch anyway.
My reasons for years and years of not having a TV in the bedroom?
It disturbs your sleep and your sex life.
So I want to know what goes on in your bedroom, TV or TV-less? And let me hear your compelling reasons for or against having one in the bedroom. Even if your compelling reason is, “shut the hell up Michelle, I just like it.
Dear Dave,
The train track building gauntlet has been thrown my Love. Finn is totally going to like me best thanks to my mad train track building skillz. I also managed to use every piece of track in the house. Bring it ya big Sir Topham Hat wanna be.
Love, The Coolest Mom Evah
This is more like liquid chocolate that tastes like velvet on your tongue. In a mug. It is really chocolat chaud, the French way to make hot chocolate that I learned from my Belgian host mom. Those Belgians are awesome at beer and chocolate. Both are extraordinary.
I think once you take a sip of chocolat chaud, you will be crazy to return to anything from a mix. It has been freaking cold here in Ohio, so it’s the perfect time to give this a try.
You will need:
2 cups of whole milk, half & half, or cream {I used 1/2 cream, 1/2 half & half}
3 – 4 ounces of chocolate with 70% or more Cocoa, chopped {I used Green & Black’s Organic Dark Chocolate}
1 TB dark brown sugar {light brown is ok if you have it on hand}
I also added 1 teaspoon of vanilla bean paste to the cream to give it a little extra something, but it is not necessary and not part of traditional chocolat chaud.
Heat the cream and dark brown sugar {and vanilla if you want} until just steaming. Remove the cream from heat and add the chopped chocolate whisking furiously until it is completely incorporated.
It yields about three small mugs of hot chocolate. I’ve also been known to do a half a mug of this and fill the rest with hot coffee for a yummy mocha.
Enjoy!
I found Style Lush when the fabulous Jennie featured my mom’s birthday party. It is one of those blogs that is a genius concept, every day a team of writers share their favorite things, share their style, and show you how to design the life that you want. Everything from the best fall boots to tips on how to throw a party, it’s there. The writers involved are real women from all over, they are talented, funny, intelligent, and above all fabulously stylish.
And Jennie, editor and the brilliance and brains behind Style Lush and the new Food Lush wanted me. Me?
I probably should have asked her if she was drinking heavily when she decided to send that email, but I didn’t want to give her the chance to change her mind.
Be a part of this team? Yes. Absolutely, without a doubt, YES.
So, you will find me there each Tuesday, spreading the lunacy style and hoping that Jennie doesn’t sober up come to her senses and kick me out. {I’ll send you an endless supply of alcohol Jen, if you’ll let me stay.}
This is something I think you will love. It is something that I am SO proud to be a part of. Please stop over and have a look around Style Lush, I hope you’ll find it as brilliant as I do. If you decide to subscribe {and I think that you will} please stop back and leave me a comment that you did. I’d like to thank you personally.
Um, and leave a comment on my post so I don’t feel like the new girl sitting all alone at the lunch table. Pretty please.
And my small business girls? Big business girls? I’m talking to you! Style Lush is accepting monthly advertising at totally reasonable rates. We can help you reach 25,000 monthly readers or host a giveaway and gain exposure for your products. If you want more info, just ask, I’ll answer what I can and be HAPPY to put you in touch with the right people.
When I was in grade school, my friend Jeff’s mom would leave us little plastic cups of milk with lids on them in the fridge when I spent the night. Our cereal bowls were laid out on the table along with spoons, different kinds of cereal to choose from and a cute Flinstones vitamin next to it. There were never knock off vitamins or knock off cereals. She also came up with spelling games after school, I would slip on his shoes that were near twice the size of mine to make it equal and we would take a step when we got a word right. She got out the medical text book in sixth grade when we were studying about sexual health {in a very Catholic way} and very patiently explained to the two of us the parts that were skipped over and answered the questions we didn’t have the nerve to ask in front of the entire sixth grade. I never thought that I would be her. I don’t know that I even knew it was possible.
I always thought I would work because my mom always had to.
My mom was seventeen when she had me. Looking back, it’s really amazing to me that she and my dad were able to do it. They got married the month before she turned eighteen, he had just turned nineteen. A {very young} recipe for marriage disaster in this case. I know I didn’t know a thing about who I was at that age, so I can’t imagine that either one of them could have known either. My Meme still says to this day that pushing them to get married wasn’t the smartest idea, but that is what you did back then when your seventeen year old comes to you and tells you she is pregnant.
They lived in a little apartment for awhile before buying a tiny little house in a sketchy neighborhood. It was the best they could do at the time and even then, it was a stretch. I remember most of our neighbors houses smelling like bologna and ketchup, my babysitter’s breath always smelled like Pepsi. All of this was before I was six, and to this day, those smells skeeve me out a bit and remind me of poverty. Though to be fair, it was more lower middle class than poverty.
They were divorced when I was five. I thought it was my fault because of one terrible fight they had about turning the radio up. I felt caught in the middle. And scared.
I was determined not to live that life, but I, or my sister for that matter could have just as easily slipped into that cycle. It happens all the time, every day. Girls having babies. It happened to friends of mine in high school. It happened to Lyndsey’s friend in the eighth grade.
Eighth grade.
It was hard for my mom as a single parent and I watched that too. She very luckily had an incredible family who supported her through the times that she didn’t know what she was doing, or was broke, or was at her wits end raising two little girls when my dad was living in California for many years of our childhood.
That’s not to say that he didn’t have it tough either. He was a mess when he couldn’t make it home for Christmas or our birthdays or for our cheerleading or volleyball or plays. He was lonely. He missed a lot and he knew it hurt. I know it festers in his head on a daily basis, thinking about the kind of parent he was when we were little. Often times he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing when two little girls hopped off the plane when school let out and stayed with him all summer. He tried to cram a year of parenting and a year of good memories all into one summer. My sister barely remembers that part.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about all this, other than the infertility ordeal has babies weighing heavily on my mind. It makes me think about things like adoption and wondering how different my mom & dad’s life would have been if they had chosen to give me up. I have to say, if it was me counseling my seventeen year old pregnant mom, that is probably what I would have told her to do.
And my mom could have just as easily not been living in her 5,000 square foot loft overlooking the city. She could have been the one in an endless cycle of debt and just stretching to make ends meet who never finished college. Lyndsey and I could have continued the cycle, maybe we wouldn’t have gone to college? Maybe we would have had babies in high school. And my dad? He could have stayed in California and would have missed out on our junior high and high school years. Elise and Christopher wouldn’t be our siblings.
It’s amazing and weird what shapes you. The crappy house in the sketchy neighborhood, the young parents, the incredibly supportive extended family, the single parent, the summers in California, the watching both of my parents struggle and work and dig themselves out of what could have been their reality, Jeff’s mom being the mom that she was, all of it made me who I am. Even the infertility journey. All of it is a part of me.
Last night we made braised short ribs with mashed potatoes and roasted parsnips & carrots. I can not tell you enough how much we LOVE this recipe. It really is close to the perfect fall or winter meal. Try it. You will love it.
But, what to do the next day?
We wanted to use up all of the leftovers in a slightly different way so we decided to make a cottage pie. For those of you who don’t know, cottage pie is a British casserole dish made using beef (usually ground) very similar to shepherds pie which is traditionally lamb. I’ve talked before about how I am really not a fan of casserole type dishes, but this is one of those exceptions. The beauty of recipes like this is you can throw in whatever you’d like, there really aren’t any right or wrong ways to go here. It’s easy and it reminds me of a hearty winter stew with a twist.
We took the leftover short ribs and cut them into bite sized chunks {maybe 2 cups?} taking care to cut away any fat that was visible. Then we mixed that with the leftover pan sauce from the short ribs. Since it was well seasoned already, I gave it just a few shakes of Worcestershire sauce and mixed it all up. Then I chopped up the leftover parsnips and carrots {about a cup} and added that. Then, I added a cup of frozen peas and a cup of frozen corn, both thawed and mixed that all in. Last night we had fingerling potatoes, but I didn’t make a ton so we just picked up a container of mashed potatoes in the deli section of the store to use here and spread them on top. Next time, I would probably make my own so they can be thicker.
Bake at 350 degrees for 35 - 45 minutes until heated through. Then you pop it under the broiler for just a minute or two to brown the potatoes on top. We served flakey biscuits alongside.
Here are some other cottage pie recipes for you to try:
Cottage Pie from Bon Apetit {found at Epicurious}
Shepherd’s Pie from Williams-Sonoma
Vegetarian Shepherd’s Pie from Gourmet {found at Epicurious}
Gordon Ramsay’s Cottage Pie {from his book Great British Pub Food}
Last year my mom bought Finnegan a Nike warm up suit looking thing. It was red and black and white. He thought it made him look like a football player. He called it his jersey pants and jersey shirt. When he wore it, he looked a little less like a football player and a little more like a mini guido. He should have on a wifebeater and gold chains and a little chest hair peeking out.
He would beg us to wear it. No, I’m sorry honey, the Toledo Club isn’t a place where you can wear your jersey pants. There was one incident where Dave was downstairs grabbing the laundry and Finn caught a peek of his jersey pants and started chanting, “Jersey pants! Jersey pants! Jerseeeeey pants!” He had it bad.
We considered a twelve step program.
Well it came time that the Nike warm up wasn’t cutting it anymore, those lanky legs will get you every time. As with almost everything he has owned, it gets passed down to his cousin Myles. As we were packing up that batch of clothes {we do this every few months} Finn started crying because he didn’t want his beloved jersey to go anywhere. I mean, great big inconsolable sobbing tears.
So I went off on a mad dash to find a jersey replacement because there is nothing more I love than seeing my three year old look like he belongs on the cast of Jersey Shore with his beloved jersey suit. And as with all places magical and good, Costco held the answer in the form of this lovely Adidas number and its matching red black and white one. Yes, now there are two.
We have taken to letting him just wear the jacket… a little fix is better than the whole shebang or so I tell myself. We limit the full ensemble to soccer practice or to and from swimming classes.
What clothing type battles are going on in your house?
