August 2008 – Chocolatechic

August 31

Just because you plop a man in front of a bbq grill, stick tongs in his hand, and slap some meat on the surface, it doesn’t necessarily mean that he knows what he is doing.

This was never more evident than last Sunday when we went to the picnic.

There was chicken and hot dogs on the grill, and we were kinda excited about the chicken.

We know that even if you slap chicken on the grill, sans seasoning, if it is cooked right, it can be juicy and delicious.

The picnic might be saved after all.

As the chips and I sat watching “Mr. BBQ” grill the meat, the girl pipes up and says to us “Mom, should he be jabbing the chicken like that?” and we watched in horror, yes Internet, horror as he mutilated the boneless, skinless, defenseless, chicken breast. Was he trying to kill it again? or did he enjoy eating something that resembled chicken, but tasted more like shoe leather?

It also became very evident to me, at that very moment, that I am a food snob.

A shallow food snob.

When it was time to eat, we got in line and right in front of me, “Mrs. BBQ” dumped a fresh plate of meat onto the platter.

Not only was I going to get hot meat, but low and behold there was a piece of chicken that didn’t have any black on it.

Score!

God has a lovely sense of humor, and always knows how to bring down those who are shallow and snobbish.

I balanced my plate on the edge of the table to reach for some chips (’cause you can’t ruin store bought chips) and the weight of that lovely piece of hot chicken shoe leather without any char caused my plate to fall. to. the. ground.

I was brought low, Internet. Low, and humbled.

Lord, I’m sorry that I dissed the hot dogs. Sorry that I grumbled about the heat, and sorry that I made a small dessert, chopped tit into tiny bits, and put them in tiny cup cake liners to make it look like I brought more.

Sorry.

For dessert, Stuffmart provided a huge sheet cake.

It was really cute. It was decorated like a picnic blanket with these little 2 inch ants all over it.

My family, knowing my abhorrence for all things creepy and crawly, thought they’d have some fun.

At my expense.

And they brought them home.

To stick them in places where I wouldn’t expect, (like icing I was putting on a birthday cake, or on my mouse, or under my napkin) to scare me.

Over

and

over

again.

Lord, I said I was sorry, already.

August 30

One of the blogs I read daily, Quiet Life, challenged us readers to take pictures of ourselves with our children.

She said “I wish, wish, wish I had more pictures of myself with our children. It is one of my few regrets.

So here’s the deal…

In five years you will look five years older….you WILL look young in the pictures you take today!
Ten years ago I thought I was fat. Oh my goodness….I should have taken pictures THEN.
So do it for me.
Do it for yourself and for your children.”

I gave excuse. I am the one taking pictures. Who is going to take them? yadda…yadda….I don’t wanna….

So a day or so later, she came back with a picture of herself and her children saying “Your children look at you all day long. THEY know what you look like. They are not surprised by how you look in the picture. I still want to look like I did when I was 25 years old. And really I’m shocked that I don’t.
You know, if you stay away from mirrors and cameras you can kind of fool yourself. But, seriously, I’m not fooling anyone. My children love me just the way I am. Chins and all.”

And I can not help but agree. I don’t want pictures of me now. blech…

But the chips did.

I told them all about her blog post, and asked them what they thought. They were both extremely enthusiastic about the whole idea.

sigh…

I figured out how to use my timer, set up my tripod and took a quick picture to see if it would work.

It did….sigh.

But it was blurry, I had never been so excited about a blurry picture.

I deleted it.

I just love that delete button.

Then last week, while we were out picnicking, I had Superman take our picture.

It, too, is blurry, but I didn’t delete this one.

My son wants an 8×10 of this for his room. He wants to hang it on the wall.

I see flaws, but he sees love.

So, I will continue to take pictures of myself and the chips.

I will also issue the challenge to you.

Take pictures of yourself with your children.

Tomorrow isn’t promised.

Record today.

August 29

It’s Friday, and I am nosy.

Today I want to know all about board games.

What is your favorite?

What one do you play all the time and win?

Which one do you like the least?

If you were going to go purchase a brand new board game, that you have never played before, which one would you choose and why?

August 28

Remember this old girl?

She got a face lift.

August 27

I like to think that I am fairly calm in a crisis. Cool and collected. Clear headed. Knowing what must be done. Getting busy and doing it.

And for the most part, I am. Except for this once.

About 10 years ago, we lived out in the country. Superman worked 3rd shift and was in bed sleeping.

I was making lunch. I don’t remember what I was cooking, but I do remember that flames sprung up from the drip pans, that I hadn’t cleaned in forever, because who wants to clean those nasty things?

So, I did what any calm, cool, collected person does. I stood there screaming “Fire…fire…fire” at the top of my lungs like a lunatic.

Superman came running out of the bedroom, grabbed the fire extinguisher that was on the wall right. beside. me. and put it out.

Yep. I was cool as a cucumber.

Superman bought me new drip pans and washed them for me once a month. I guess he didn’t like being woken up from a sound sleep by a crazy woman.

Yesterday, I had only turned away from the stove for a minute.

I swear, it was only a minute.

Maybe I should purchase a fire extinguisher.

August 26

The first time I remember having an ice cream cake was when I was in my twenties.

I had always wanted to try one.

They always looked so good, and when I finally tried one, I was terribly disappointed.

There is just way to much ice cream and not nearly enough hot fudge and crunchy things in the middle. Can I get an ‘amen’?

I would be totally happy with just the bottom half of the cake.

Today’s TWD that Amy from Food, Family, and Fun solves this problem for me.

Chocolate-banded Ice Cream Torte.

Thick layers of chocolate ganache with teeny-tiny layers of ice cream.

Ice cream of your choice.

I really wanted peanut butter or caramel, because nothing goes so well with chocolate as peanut butter or caramel.

I searched high and low for plain old peanut butter or caramel ice cream.

Plain old peanut butter or caramel ice cream doesn’t exist.

I stood in the ice cream isle for 20 minutes looking.

Many people came up and down the isle, getting ice cream. People that I knew.

They were staring at me, wondering why I was just standing there…eyes glued to the ice cream, muttering under my breath about peanut butter and ice cream moguls, and half a gallon isn’t 1.5 quarts, now is it?

I can’t say for sure, but I think security might have been alerted.