out of the blue

Grumpy Bear & Swiftheart Rabbit
Originally uploaded by Violet ♥ Follow The White Rabbit

A BAD MOOD has been hovering over me for the last two days.

Like a migraine.

It won't go away.

I woke up with it yesterday. And it's still with me. It sits right next to me -- not respecting my personal space at all-- and scowls at me, taunting me, daring me to defy it.

It recedes temporarily, after a dose of chocolate. Or ice cream. But still it niggles in the back of my mind, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

Stupid little things bring it out. Like noises. And not even my normal pet peeve noises (cornnuts), but the sound of my dog panting. And my stupid stupid brakes that squeal EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I come to a stop. I'm embarrassed to pull up next to pedestrians because of the violent assault my brakes make on their innocent eardrums.

Unfortunately for my kids, even the sound of their happy, non-fighting chatter is BUGGING me!!!!! Poor kids -- and no PB&J to come to their (and my) rescue.

I'm trying to excise this foul, foul mood. I thought by doing something constructive I might cast it off. Apparently blogging is not enough. I might just have to break down and do something really, really awful to justify my bad mood. Like clean my shower. I celebrated my 30th birthday that way. Nothing could be worse than turning 30 and cleaning hard water deposits off my shower walls, right?

I did find this great quote while wandering around the wasteland of the worldwide web. It's by this guy of this band. I don't want to actually write his name because then my nice grumpy blog will get hit by a bunch of random emo/rockers searching for their hero. The next thing you know I'll be dying my hair black, applying excessive amounts of eyeliner, and wearing skinny jeans (which I look horrible in).

Then what would people think?

They'd probably think I'm in a REALLY REALLY BAD MOOD. And they might be right.

But. Back to the quote:

"We are in love and live in a castle in the sky. Our next door neighbors are carebears. Grumpy bear has a Baditude, but I still heart him. I hope your life is as magical as ours is."

You can sing along, if you'd like.

Just don't let me hear you.

emo picture originally downloaded by s0ugintou

pms poem monday

I found my ideal body the other day at the local water park. It was young. It had no stretch marks, no cellulite, no chicken pox scars. Everything was firm, toned, and in its appointed place.

As of late, I feel a little betrayed by my body. In the beginning, things were good between us. But Time, childbearing, gravity, and ice cream are taking their toll. As are the occasional (and the regularly recurring) aches and pains -- not to mention the dreaded genetic defects. (Shouldn't there be some kind of warranty for those?)

And so, I can't help but think that perhaps I didn't end up with the same model of body I originally requested when the bodies and parts were popping off the heavenly assembly line. The one I got is a bit defective. (Not that I'm asking for a recall, mind you.)
If I had picked which model of body I was sporting in life, I would have been tempted to go with something a little more like a sports car, and not so much like an old jalopy (I don't really know what a jalopy is -- I read it in a book once and I have always liked the way it sounds.)

And so, Rumi, though you may be hailed as one of the world's greatest mystical poets, today, on PMS Poem Monday, I have to disagree with this poem of yours:

When grapes turn

To wine, they long for our ability to change.

When stars wheel

Around the North Pole,

They are longing for our growing consciousness.

Wine got drunk with us,

Not the other way.

The body developed out of us, not we from it.

We are bees,

And our body is a honeycomb.

We made

The body, cell by cell we made it.

Because, Rumi, if I had made my body, I would have made it a little differently.

Now, I'm sure there is a reason for this model T body I've been blessed with, and I'm okay with that. I really am. But in the resurrection, when things are restored to their perfect frame, is PERFECT subjective or objective?

Just wondering.

Mysticize on that Mr. Medieval Persian Philosopher Man.

oh, and according to wikipedia "Jalopy is a common slang nickname for an old, decrepit and unreliable automobile which has limited mechanical abilities, and at times can barely move. It does not refer to a well kept antique car, but to cheap cars which are mostly rundown." There is no excuse for ignorance in the age of information.

Hebrew National Kosher Beef Franks

Can I be frank?


Yes?


Thank you.



In case you didn't know, baseball can rule your life.

For the Middle Carrotstick, baseball started in the middle of April.
The Littlest Carrotstick started T-ball in the second half of May.
T-ball finally ended the first week of July.

And the Middle Carrotstick's last baseball game was on Thursday. THURSDAY! That's 12 WEEKS of baseball. And not just one game a week. Oh, no. Try 4 games a week, for most of the last 73 weeks.

Do you know what that means?

It means we have spent many, many evenings at the ballpark.

Do you know what else that means?

It means I have not made very many good, healthy, sit-down, dinners in the last 326 weeks.

It also means (and I hate to admit this) that I have eaten a few frankfurters/hot dogs/coney dogs -- the official food of the national pasttime -- in the last 751 weeks.

(please don't think less of me.)

And one thing I know for sure: Ballpark Franks are not the way to go.

So, for Good Food Friday, can I recommend you try this week's recipe:

(Drumroll please)

Hebrew National Kosher Beef Franks

Cook 'em however you like. And eat.


That's it. This week's recipe. Fast and easy.

Some people like chili, cheese, onions, jalapenos, sauerkraut, bacon, or basically anything else on their hot dogs.

For the most part, I am a purest: Bun. Dog. Miracle Whip. Ketchup.

Unless PB&J takes me to J-Dawgs (yes, they do cater. So call to schedule your wedding or 50th Anniversary party.)

Or Puka Dogs .

And then I get whatever it is they put on 'em.

Both are definitely worth trying.

Otherwise,

Stick to the Hebrew National.

Yes, they are more expensive, but for those times when you CRAVE a really really good hot dog (and you know you do) they are so, so worth it.

a post by dallin h oaks

Not really. But, in the manner of many a Mormon blogger, it is modeled after this great talk he gave in Conference last fall.

Good:
Playing on a great baseball team.

Better:
Playing on a great baseball team and winning the state championship.

Best:
Breaking your batting mental block, and repeatedly whacking the snot out of the ball!

just one more thing

I know that last post was a little long. But I just have two more things to add to my COOL list. I'll try to keep it short.

Cool: Airplane rides home.

Not Cool: Trucker Butt. (sorry. no picture.)

Cool: A little metro panini bar in Charlottesville VA serving all kinds of crazy panini -- like panini with prosciutto, parmesan, and fig paste (weird, but good.) And the all time best -- nutella, marscapone, and strawberry panini. Mmmmm . . .

Not Cool: CORNNUTS! Death to Cornnuts! And to all the gas stations between here and "THE DISTRICT" that sell them!

panini picture originally downloaded by -clb-

the district

According to the now misplaced Mr. Beaver Mountain & Farm Girl,
all the Cool Kids refer to Washington, District of Columbia as merely "The District."

Being thus enlightened, I thought I'd share other some other COOL things with you.

Cool: A detour to Room and Board in Denver, courtesy of the GPS.

Not Cool: A detour that lets you see the St. Louis Arch only from the FREEWAY, courtesy of the *blank-ity blank* GPS.

Cool: Revisiting your old junior high, knowing you never have to go back there again.

Not Cool: Knowing your kids still have to face junior high.

Cool: The high humidity "smoky" mists that enshroud the famed Smoky Mountains.
Not Cool: The high humidity makes it hard to keep cool, and impossible to keep my hair straight.

Cool: The prodigious mansions of two of our nations presidents.

Not Cool: The prodigious amount of money Farm Girl will have to pay to rent an apartment that is the modern equivalent of George Washington's slave quarters. (Not quite. But close. Actually, their apartment is nice. But expensive. And it doesn't include a chicken coop.)

Cool: Finding the portrait of an ancestor in the National Portrait Gallery, and looking for family resemblances. (See any similarities?)

Not Cool: Finding pictures on your camera that your baby sister took when you were unaware. (Ok, so the pictures are just ridiculous, not uncool.)

Cool: Viewing "The District" from the roof of Mr. Beaver Mountain's office building.

Not Cool: Viewing the sore on my foot, after a day of walking around "The District" and just a few museums. (Warning: The following pictures may be disturbing. Viewer Discretion is advised.)

. . .

On second thought, just imagine the sore on my foot, and instead, enjoy this picture: (That would be a side view of the White House of the left side of the picture.)

Lastly,

Cool: My sister, Farm Girl.

Not Cool:

Leaving my sister 2000 miles away in Washington, District of Columbia.

Very, Very Not Cool.

p.s. arch picture originally downloaded by http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikeweidman/ because, as you will remember, we couldn't get close enough to it to take a picture of our own.

p.s.s. if you care, you can click on any of the small pictures and get a larger view.

summit

(please cue the triumphant sounding music)

It is official.

I have conquered Mount Laundry.

Otherwise known as L7.5 (or the laundry 5 people create, increasing exponentially and unchecked, for the last 7 days. However, it really should be L7.5+, because the Oldest Carrotstick changes outfits more times than a schizophrenic changes his/her/their mind.)

It took an entire day and more loads than I can count, but I can now see the dim light of day from the very high, oxygen deficient top of the folded clothes piles.

Hallelujah.

Now, if only I had a sherpa to pack all the piles away.

Laundry picture originally downloaded by catiedid242.

competitive kate

Lunch Lady: Please welcome to the Sack Lunch Conspiracy: my baby sister.

Competitive Kate: Please, I prefer to go by Competitive Kate.

LL: Kate, just a few preliminary questions. Which do you prefer: crispy crunch fries, or smushy fries?

CK: Soft, smushy delectable fries, of course.

LL: Ewwwww. What about bacon: crunchy satisfying bacon or disgusting, soft, flabby bacon?

CK: Lovely, still malleable bacon is the best.

LL: Really???? Are you sure we're related???

Tell me a little about your family, Kate.

CK: Well, I've got a cutie pie husband, a fabulous mom and dad, three sisters and three brothers.

LL: Wow! That's a big family.

CK: I don't believe in the word "in-law". We're all just one, big, happy family.

LL: Interesting. In this large family of yours, where exactly do you fall?

CK: Very dead last. But I am the favorite child.

LL: Is that why you are so competitive? Are you trying to make up for your birth order? Is that the real reason you are always racing? In cars? In swimming pools? In marathons? In life? Do you have to be first in everything?

CK: I resent that. I am not that competitive.

LL: Right. Whatever makes you feel better. You have to admit that because you are the lastborn, you've really scored as a result.

CK: I have not!

LL: Oh yeah? Who did the parents take to Hawaii?

CK: Just their favorite -- MOI! (sticking her tongue out)

LL: See? Just as I said!

Thinking back on your favored childhood, what was the best thing Santa ever brought you?

CK: My puppy, Wicket the shih tzu.

LL: Kate!!! That dog was not just yours! He was the family dog! You think everything revolves around you!! How do YOU spell spoiled rotten?

CK: K-A-T-E?

LL: (under her breath) You got that right.

LL: Did your brother or sister ever call you names?

CK: (angrily) Yes. They told me I was a "part-time boy", that my real name was Reggie, and that Mom and Dad got me on a blue light special at Kmart.

LL: Huh. Sad. Is that the reason you wrote your name on your arm? To dispel the myth that your name is Reggie?

CK: No. I did that the second time I ran the Boston Marathon -- if you write your name on your arm (or leg) the spectators standing on the sidelines will call out your name and cheer you on. It's really cool. I wrote my name on my arm in permanent marker, and during the race I got really sunburned. When the marker finally wore off, my name was still there in white, untanned skin. Who knew permanent marker was an effective sunscreen?

LL: Ok. Enough about you. Kate, which one of your sisters never ever called you names, and instead coddled you, spoiled you, and bought your love with trips to the park and Mrs. Fields cookies?

CK: That would be you, Lunch Lady.

LL: So, looking back on your childhood, who would you say is your favorite sister?

CK: I'd like to take the 5th, and consult my attorney.

LL: You can't consult your attorney. He's still a law student, and you left him at home in Las Vegas. And besides that, since you are married to him, I think he has a conflict of interest and therefore can't represent you.

CK: I still object! You are trying to lead the witness -- I mean the interviewee. I think you are just trying to get me in trouble with the rest of the family! What kind of big sister would do that?

LL: If you'd just do what I tell you, we wouldn't be having this problem!

CK: You. Are. So. Bossy! I'm telling Mom! (she stomps off)

LL: (under her breath) Baby.

LL: This concludes another installment of Interviews with the Lunch Lady. I'd like to thank Competitive Kate for consenting to be interviewed. She really is the #1 Baby Sister in my book.

ubermom 90210

Lunch Lady: Ubermom, thank you for joining us today on the Sack Lunch Conspiracy.

Ubermom: Thank you for having me!

LL: Thank YOU for being a part of the family!

(Ubermom smiles graciously.)

LL: Now, with all the niceties done with, let's get down to business. I understand you live in Hollywood, is that correct?

UM: We are actually closer to Beverly Hills than Hollywood.

LL: Ooohhh! I know you want to protect your privacy, (you Hollywood types are like that), but does your zip code rhyme with 9-0-2-1-go?

UM: (rolling her eyes, discreetly) No.

LL: So, what's it like living in Hollywood?

UM: It's more exciting than Salt Lake.

LL: (aghast) What? More exciting than Salt Lake City? The Gateway to the West? The Home of the 2002 Olympics? (shaking head in disbelief) Ok. So. If it's so exciting, do you see any Stars?

UM: Yes, but I don't really know who they are, because we try to protect our family from the filth so prevalent on the Silver Screen (and on the small screen). But I did see Basketcase Spears and her bodyguards in Target one day, and I occasionally see that crazy guy from 24.

LL: I understand your husband (my little brother) is in movies. What was it like to see your husband's name on the big screen for the first time?

UM: It was very exciting! I cried and yelled "WOOOO HOOOOO!"

LL: Your daughter's voice was scheduled to appear in the summer sensation Kung Fu Panda, but, I understand, at the last minute, her scene was cut. How does that make you feel?

UM: Very, VERY ANGRY!

LL: I understand you have children of several Stars in your primary class. Were you asked to sign confidentiality and non-disclosure agreements before you could teach them?

UM: No.

LL: In your experience, what is the most effective way to deal with paparazzi?

UM: Run 'em over.

LL: I understand you have met the famous Stephanie Meyer (of the Twilight series) several times. What was she like? What did she say to you? Were you disappointed when you met her in real life?

UM: Steph (that's what I call her) was about what I expected. She was very nice. The first time I met her, she confessed that she was currently serving on her ward's enrichment committee, and that she wanted to be released, because she was too busy, but her husband was in the bishopric and wouldn't let her get out of it that easily. So, she is just a person, just like the rest of us.

LL: (under her breath) Yeah, maybe just like you Ubermom. The rest of us aren't quite are with it as you. (outloud) Ubermom, I understand that on one occasion, you and your girlfriends went on a roadtrip to see Stephanie Meyer. BUT, for some reason, you declined going on a roadtrip with your mother and sisters-in-law this summer. Would you care to elaborate?

UM: No. Let's just say, Lunch Lady, that your brother has told me horror stories of traveling in a car with you, and that you have very long, very sharp fingernails and an aversion to chewing sounds.

LL: Don't believe a word he says! The cornnuts made me do it!

LL: Ok, Ubermom, I'm down to my last few questions. What's better, crispy crunch fries or soft smushy fries?

UM: Crunchy fries, but only if they're from Dairy Queen.

LL: Crispy bacon or flabby bacon?

UM: Both.

LL: Both? Eeeuuwww. I guess we'll have to agree to disagree. Thank you, Ubermom, for joining me today. It's great to have you as part of my family. I only I wish you thought we were as cool and fun as your girlfriends and that you were road tripping with us!

Kiefer picture originally downloaded by ballookey stephanie meyer picture originally downloaded by meesa

break 10-4

10-4: I'm leaving the Home 20 and hitting the Big Road, takin' a Four Wheeler cross country with the mom and the two of the sisters. I'm leavin' the Better Half and the Ankle Biters at home. We're gonna go through Bright Lights, to the Gateway, and then it's on to Capital City. Hopefully the mom won't be doin' too much driving, 'cause she's happiest only goin' Double Nickles. I'll be doin' the Flip-Flop on Saturday, but takin' a Bird for the Backslide.

But don't worry. If you get bored, while I'm out Standin' on the Fuel Pedal, I've got a few things prepared for you here on the Sack Lunch Conspiracy.

Catch You on the Flip Flop.

(If you need a refresher course in trucker lingo, check here. It's very informative. And it will tell you why you don't want to go casually flinging around the "Good Buddy" phrase next time you're playing with a CB.)

Back Out.

Semi picture originally downloaded by lunacalle66.

pecan candy pie

Happy Fourth of July!

Today, in celebration of America, I want to share a little story with you:

Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He was a good little boy, but he was poor. Nonetheless, he did as all little boys do, and he grew. He became an Eagle Scout. He finished school. He even joined the Army. Then one day, when he was all grown up and married, he moved to Arkansas, borrowed some money from his father-in-law, made a few shrewd business deals, and voila! He was a mega-multi-billionaire and a living embodiment of the rags-to-riches American dream.

His legacy lives on today. We all hate his long-lines-no-cashiers, the total and complete lack of customer service, the sweatshops full of underpaid children slaving away in order to stock the shelves in his mass-merchandising one-stop-shop crush-the-little-man mega-warehouse-superstores, but how great it is when we can get an incredible deal?

Take these little sundresses I bought the other day:
I won't even tell you how cheap they were, because PB&J thinks that is so gauche. But they were so cheap (obviously: I bought 3!) They were so CHEAP I won't even care if these look horrible at the end of the summer. I think they look cute now. And so, in honor of the man who made the cheapness of these cheap dresses possible, I wanted to post a recipe for a down home Southern favorite, one THE MAN HIMSELF, would surely enjoy -- if he hadn't done the one thing that all men (ultra-mega-multi-billionaire and pauper alike) must do, and died:


The WAY Better Than a Superstore Chewy Pecan Candy Pie

1 c firmly packed light brown sugar
1/3 c butter or margarine
1/3 c light corn syrup
1/4 c heavy cream
1 egg, slightly beaten
2 c pecan (or more up to 3 cups — just to fill pan)
½ tsp vanilla
1 small baked pie shell


Preheat oven to 375.

Combine brown sugar, butter, corn syrup and cream in a heavy saucepan. Bring to boil over medium heat, stirring constantly. Boil for 4 minutes. Mixture should thicken with large bubbles on surface.

Remove from heat. Mix a small amount of the hot mixture into the beaten egg. Then add the egg mixture to the hot mixture. Add vanilla and pecans. Stir to coat and pour into baked pie shell. Bake at 375 for 15 minutes or until bubbly in center.


This pie is a holiday necessity at our house. No holiday can be properly celebrated without this Pecan Pie on the menu. It doesn't have that weird nasty custard filling that so many nondescript pecan pies boast. It really is super yummy candy in a pie shell. And the pecans mean it has protein in it, and so it is good for you, right? Oh, and it is really good with a dollop of slightly sweeten whipped heavy cream.

Give it a try. You're sure to enjoy it, way more than you enjoy standing in an eternal line at your local superstore. And Happy Fourth from all of us in the Lunchroom!


Pecan Pie picture originally downloaded by Zirotti

the miss handcart trek pageant

PB&J (or Grizzly) left today for the Stake Handcart Trek. He looks very authentic, don't you think?

The Oldest Carrotstick is a little bummed that she isn't old enough to go on this Stake Trek. They get to go to -- wait for it --

a Handcart Pageant.

Yay.

She complained just the teensiest bit about this Consolation Activity.

"Why do they think we'd want to sit around and watch bunch of girls modeling pioneer clothes?" she asked.
If only there was a bubble over the Oldest Carrotstick's head, in which we could see what was going through her mind! I can just imagine the following scene filling her imagination:

A darkened auditorium, full of metal folding chairs, all occupied by zealous families and youth groups, a spotlight illuminates the stage. Some old-timey music plays in the background and a disembodied voice gives an inane running commentary as girls in pioneer garb work the runway: Announcer: "Here we have Miss Handcart Trek Ashley and her First Attendant, Connie, modeling lovely vintage pioneer gowns in crimson and flax. Connie is wearing a full coverage apron, while Ashley is a modern girl wearing a half apron, slung low on the hips. The Camelback she carries is a lovely, and necessary, accessory for any Trek girl. Let's hear it for Miss Handcart Trek! Thank you, ladies."

"Gentlemen are not to be outdone in the 1800s! Here we have Kyle, showing that men can be tough and still take advantage of all the protection a good sunbonnet can offer. Real men do wear bonnets, right, Kyle?"

"And finally, for the kids out there, here we have three of our valiant youth. They are wearing ... well, let's just say, they are showing a modern interpretation of what pioneer children wore as they sang, and walked, and walked and walked -- though the pioneers might have thought the young lady a bit immodest! Remember, your body is a temple, so let's keep those knickers covered! Thank you, Carrotsticks."

And then the music would fade and the little scene in the Oldest Carrotstick's imagination would turn to static, as we explain to her that it wasn't a Beauty Pageant, but more like a outdoor pioneer musical with a very large cast.

Disclaimer:

I really think my daughter is sweet and darling.

But she has some funny, funny ideas, and says the craziest things, totally unintentionally. And I feel I have to share her humorousness, because I have a responsibility to make the world a better place.

(A special thanks to my cousins for unknowingly particpating in the Miss Handcart Trek Pageant, on this, the one year anniversary of our family handcart trek.)