potty mouth

A short post about necessary things.

'Specially written for YOU.

We are in the middle of a remodel. (If you can count getting new flooring as remodeling. If you can't count it, then we are just in the middle of a MESS.)

We are getting new flooring. Which means we have to get rid of the old flooring first. The first floors to go were the two upstairs bathrooms and the laundry room.

Such a mess. But the boys have had a fantastic time doing demolition.

Give a boy a tool and you'll keep him entertained for hours. Don't you like his choice of work clothes? PJs.

Very versatile.

They worked all day Saturday filling this bucket with staples from the underlayment. Underlayment is a fancy word for wood under a vinyl floor. In case you didn't know.
The only boy who wasn't thrilled with the demolition was the big one. PB&J is not a plumber, and he was stressed by the thought of removing and replacing the toilets.

Perhaps the task was made a little more enjoyable by a little trip to the Home Depot. We had to replace one of the toilets completely. The tank lid was cracked on the old one, and apparently you can't just buy a new tank lid, you have to get a whole new toilet.

So I sent PB&J to the Home Depot, and look what he came home with:
Yes, it's true.

A "Performance Toilet".

Which certainly has to be better than a non-performing toilet, don'tcha think?



Anyway. The moral of the story is, anything thing can be cool if it has the right name.


Which somehow leads me to my next topic,

In honor of my forthcoming

200th post!

I want show YOU how much I appreciate YOU, Gentle Reader, and so I want to answer your questions. It can be about anything: How do I like my bacon cooked? (Crispy) If you stacked Bill Gates fortune up, in dollar bills, would it be taller than the Space Needle? (Yes). Those are just some examples. I flatter myself by thinking that you have questions you want answered. So humor me, will ya, please? Ask me some questions, and I will answer them on my

200th post!

Ask me anything, and I will do my best to answer all of them. Even you lurkers can feel free to de-lurk long enough to ask me something! (I promise it won't hurt and I won't think your question is stupid.) If you don't ask me any questions, then I will be forced to soothe my ego and ask myself questions. And that could be frightening. You don't want to witness a conversation between me and myself.



Go ahead,


Ask the Lunch Lady!




And look for answers to all your life's questions coming soon to a Sack Lunch near you!

a little sum'in sum'in

If you were wondering what to give me for my 200th post anniversary (which is coming up very soon),



You may want to consider this:



Very apropos, don'tcha think?



A little bird brain tole me you can get it here.

tres risque

I bought the Oldest Carrotstick these shoes the other day:(Don't cringe. She has had gold shoes before and wore the heck out of them. They go with everything, don't you know. And metallic is the new neutral, naturally.)

This didn't keep me from buying them either.

But. She won't wear them.

And why won't she wear them?

Because they are

????

All I can figure is that she prefers ballet shoes that show at little cleavage. Toe cleavage.

What do you think? Should I be worried about this proclivity for showing skin? Can you show toe cleavage and still abide by the standards in For the Strength of the Youth?

Just wondering.

Not really. But I did think it was kind of funny. I don't think I have ever once given a second thought to toe cleavage. And if you are my sister Kate, you think that anything that has to do with feet is gross and disgusting.

Anyway. Have a great Monday! Live a little -- show some toe cleavage! (I won't tell!)

me and my peeps

I bought my first package of Peeps of the season yesterday.

I heart Peeps -- but only the Easter ones. I just can't get behind Cr-eeps at Halloween, Snow-peeps at Christmas, or even the Stars and Str-eeps for the 4th of July. True Authentic Peeps belong only at Easter. The rest are just frauds and imposters. I don't care what the Just Born Company might say. That's my story and I'm sticking (like gooey marshmellow on toddler fingers) to it.

I do really love Peeps. And I enjoyed the whole package almost by myself. I know, some of you don't like Peeps. Or candy corn. I love both. I hope you don't think less of me.

Even if you don't care for Peeps, you're sure to enjoy the Washington Post's Peep Diorama contest. My sister, Kate, introduced me to it last year. I hope they do it again this year. It's amazing. And worth wasting your time on. Even better if you can enjoy a package of sugary soft and slightly crunchy at the same time Peeps. Here's a little something to whet your appetite. It is entitled "The PEEP Vinci Code".

Peep picture by Zeke .

Diorama by scostello2.

random bits of ran-dumb-ness

My life is so inspiring, not to brag or anything.

Let me share it with you with this brillant photo essay.




Prepare to be amazed.



First,


I had a yogurt today. It was one-third full of mushy blueberries. Gross. I couldn't bring myself to eat them.


PB&J hates all yogurt. And cantelope. Just thought you should know.





I am actually making dinner today.

Chili.




Made with elk meat, courtesy of our great white hunter (I don't mean that in a racist way), because I am trying to live off the land and stuff. And use the abundance of meat in our freezer.


Be glad I'm not YOUR Lunch Lady.


While cooking, I like to wash my hands frequently (just so you know, Kellye).

However, I don't like using the Noel Vanilla soap. It is green. And slimy. And it was given to us by the parents of the Oldest Carrotstick's Mean-Girl Friend, in between bouts of mean-ness. And hence the soap feels even more slimy, because of where it came from. But I feel obligated to use it up. It's my pioneer heritage -- "use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without." Onward, Pioneers!



Yep. That's my motto.

Even though I get the heebie jeebies every time I use that soap, I will perservere!





There. I promised ran-dumb, and I delivered. Hope your day has been more inspiring than mine!

time and tide

"They" say that


and

wait for no man.

The Middle Carrotstick gets it -- the whole Time thing. He hates being late. He gets so cross with me when he is not 25 minutes early for school. ("Come on, Mom!" is our weekday morning mantra. If he could drive himself to school, he would.)

Whereas, the Oldest Carrotstick is a whole 'nuther story. She has absolutely no concept of time.

We have renamed her. She is now known as Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Czech-o-Slow-Poke-ia.

Because she really, truly, thinks that Time and Tide should, and will, wait for her.

Arrgh!!!!!

Any tips for dealing with the chronometrically challenged?

i spy

Hey, I have an idea . . .

Let's play a game!

Look at this picture.

It shows two walls (or planes, geometrically speaking). And the new (chiming) wall clock that PB&J got me for Christmas. It replaces the old (cheap) wall clock that we used to have that sounded like the doorbell every time it chimed (we cut the chime wire). But this clock is not e-lec-tronic. It has to be wound. By hand. With a key. And it chimes most gloriously. And it is a not-so-subtle reminder of how much time I waste doing who-knows-what in fifteen minute increments. I love it.

*sigh*

But, back to the game.

True or False:

The walls in the picture are the same color.

Think carefully. Record your answer. With a number two pencil.

And then look at the picture below.

The answer: False.

The wall in my front room is blue/gray (or grey). The wall in the hall is a very pleasing beige-y color.

This, my friends, is an illustration of what different light can do to a paint color. The first picture was taken Christmas morning, with the blinds closed, while I was admiring my clock, and noticed the strange paint anomaly.

The second picture was with the blinds open and the true paint colors shining forth.

The moral of the story: Don't buy paint on a whim. Stick the paint chip you are considering on the wall (along with a number of its closest cousins) and look at it over and over and over in all kinds of light.

Just thought you should know, since my friend Amber wanted to know. And I'm sure Kate has been dying to know what my clock looks like. (Strangely, it looks much like my mom and dad's wall clock. Just in a different wood. Who knew??)

One more paint buying tip: I always have the paint guys mix the paint up at 75%-80%. "75% of what?" you ask. Well, I don't know for sure. Is it 75% strength or value? I don't know. I do know you can start even lower and keep adding %-age-wise to it 'til it is the color you want. When I've had paint mixed it up at full strength/value/intensity/hue it always seems more than what I really wanted, and slightly less strength/value/intensity/hue always seems right. Or better. And tell the paint guy to smudge some paint on the top of the lid and then ask them to DRY it, so you can really tell what the true color will look like.

Anything else you really wanted to know?

Ask the Lunch Lady!

i heart presents

Once again, I am looking out for your gift giving needs.

(remember, valentine's day is just around the corner)

and so you don't get stuck in the doghouse on the day of love and romance,

consider giving your beloved a present that really shows how you feel:

You can hold your heart in your hands by buying it here.

ch-ch-ch-changes

I had to sign up my daughter for SEMINARY yesterday.

I think someone made a mistake. She can't possible be old enough for that.

I can't possibly be old enough for that.

no knead artisan bread

Look at this picture of my daughter.She has always liked to dress up.

And not much has really changed now that she's 13.

Our Stake hosted a Daddy/Daughter Dinner/Dance/Date (duh -- that's a lot of d's) last night. Some of the sweet girls/women in our ward offered the Young Women the use of their old prom dresses. The Oldest Carrotstick was ready and willing to take them up on the offer. She borrowed this swishy sparkly sequiny dress of wonderment last night, so she could dress up like Cinderella going to the ball. She was pretty. And, even more importantly, she felt pretty. And witty. And bright. And a little giggly.

She and her dad had fun together. I think. But the best part of the whole night was when a high school aged girl (that she didn't know) came up to her and asked her if that was the dress she wore to prom.

"Ummm, well. No. I'm only 13." She admitted. But she loved every minute of it. She came home and told me. And then she told 153 of her closest friends.

One friend responded, "Well, it's cool when someone thinks you look like you're 17 when you're only 13. It's not so cool when you are 20 and someone thinks you look like you're 30."

What???

20 versus 30?

Looking 30 is an insult?

Well, look here, Mr. Know-It-All-Smarty-Pants-Kid-On-My-Naughty-List. 30 is NO insult. 40 isn't either.

Some things get better with age.

Like this super good, easy, impressive looking bread.

You mix up the ingredients, and then you let it sit. For like 24 hours. And it only gets better the longer it sits.

Just like me.

If you cook it too soon it would have no flavor and it would be flat and hard like a rock. So there.

Teenagers Knead to Get Real Like This No Knead Bread

3 cups all-purpose or bread flour, more for dusting

¼ teaspoon instant yeast

1¼ teaspoons salt

Cornmeal or wheat bran as needed.

1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees.
2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rest about 15 minutes.
3. Using just enough flour to keep dough from sticking to work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape dough into a ball. Generously coat a cotton towel (not terry cloth) with flour, wheat bran or cornmeal; put dough seam side down on towel and dust with more flour, bran or cornmeal. Cover with another cotton towel and let rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.
4. At least a half-hour before dough is ready, heat oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in oven as it heats. When dough is ready, carefully remove pot from oven. Slide your hand under towel and turn dough over into pot, seam side up; it may look like a mess, but that is O.K. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack.
Yield: One 1½-pound loaf

Give it a try. You'll only be out some time, and you'll end up with a beautiful, chewy, crusty, super good-looking loaf that only improves with time. Again, just. like. me. Better. With. Age. But not crusty.

Kate, here's a link to the original recipe.

And here's an article for your reading enjoyment.

I think the pan is kind of important 'cause it holds the heat and that makes the nice crust happen. According to my cooking Bible, Cooks Illustrated, it said you can get a decent cast iron covered pan for about $40 at Wallie's. Mine's green. Liz got a cuter looking (red) one from Target for a little more money. Maybe you could start a fund. I'll donate.

bread picture by Peggasus

trading treats tuesday

Today, for Trading Treats Tuesday . . .

Wait.

Today is opposite day.

What?

You didn't know?

Didn't you get the memo?

Well it is.

And so I can't post a treat.

But I don't want to be totally negative, 'cause that is such a downer.

So today, in honor of opposite day, is really Positively Peeved Something-Or-The-Other. No clever alliteration today, kids.

My Pet Peeve for today is Elementary School Kids Chronic Chapped Lips Syndrome.

This is the one single reason why I could never be an Elementary School teacher. But I salute all of you who can and are.

When I go to help in my kids classes, it PAINS me, I mean REALLY PAINS ME to see the poor poor kids who just keep licking and licking their lips, trying to make them feel better, and succeed in only making them worse.

For the love of your mother, your school teacher, the Lunch Lady, the crossing guard, the librarian, the garbage man, and the Schwann's guy, please please please please use chapstick. Chapstick is your friend.

Chapped lips are not.

Say no to Chap.

And Crack.

Butt, if you're a fan of Pioneer Woman, you can't say no to Chaps.

What's your Positively Peeved Pet Peeve today?

(to my more sensitive readers, I sincerely, and profusely, apologize, for this post.)

chaps picture by pioneer woman

a peaceable passing of power

PB&J sometimes travels for his work.

But for the last month and a half, he has been grounded. Which means he has been at home. Well, working still (thank goodness), but at least in the same state as the rest of his family. Except when he was on vacation. Then he wasn't working. But really, he was, because there's no rest when you are a member of a family. And believe you me, I took full advantage of that fact.

While PB&J was stuck at home he:

• did dishes
• took out garbage
• woke up kids
• made breakfast
• went to the grocery store
• helped with homework
• enforced piano practicing
• made a pinewood derby car

actually, made 2 pinewood derby cars -- 'cause the Littlest Carrotstick just couldn't stand to be left out of the fun.

and,

believe it or not

• he even helped make the bed.

(on more than one occasion!)

It was awesome.

Except now. Back in December, PB&J inadvertantly planned a trip to Washington D.C. for this week. By inadvertantly, I mean he didn't realize the significance of this week in history until after the trip was planned. Do you know what other somewhat significant event happened this week in The District? Besides a visit with my sister, Farm Girl, and her husband, Mr. Beaver Mountain? (Of which I am insanely jealous.) A little transfer of power? Remember that? Oh yeah. So, PB&J left on Monday, leaving the state of our union in my hands.

(As he drove through The District Monday night, talking to me on the phone, he unrolled the window of his car, and stuck his cell phone outside so I could hear the sounds of all the helicopters flying overhead. It was loud. It sounded like a scene in a movie. Weird.)

I hope things go smoother in DC than they have here where the executive branch of the family is now solely my responsibility (for a couple of days.)

I realize now I didn't appreciate PB&J's presence enough. Since he's been gone:

I haven't been able to sleep at night.

I worry about strange gasoline-like smells in the garage --- and I've even planned our escape route should my car spontaneously combust.

And then, to add insult to injury,

this morning, I pried myself out of my bed and woke the kids up, only to discover:

There was no milk in the fridge!

And no milk in the backup fridge.

The kids are threatening to impeach me.

PB&J, please come home.

We need you.

The kids need you.

The fridge needs you.