The Crab Chronicles

Sad Days for Foodies

It took a lot longer than usual to post here yesterday, which was very frustrating. I am hopeful it won't happen again today. Typepad is always trying to "improve" their blogging software, and it doesn't always work well. For instance, I still cannot hyperlink properly.

I am always wary of "new and improved" anything. For instance, I just ate some "certified organic" chicken from downstairs. It was very tasty, but a bit dry. So, while "new" to the cafeteria, it's not much "improved." Give me non-organic chicken I don't have to choke down with half a glass of water accompanying every bite, OK?! I also am suspicious that it might not be truly "certified organic." I am a paralegal and so I am naturally suspicious of anything claimed to be "certified" - where's an affidavit to that effect?! Where is the expert testimony to back up that claim? What's the attestation of authenticity?!

At least it's an improvement over dinner last night. We had fish sticks and hash browns, and salad. I was going to fix something else but the kids were hungry and couldn't wait for a roast to cook. My kids LOVE frozen fried fish. I can tolerate it. That's why God make ketchup. The hash browns were horrifying. I am a potato purist. I wanted to grate a potato and make real hash browns, but there were two problems with that scenario. One, when I handle a raw potato it makes my hands itch - if I peel the potato, my hand itch uncontrollably and it causes me to dance around, cursing and scratching my hands. Not very appetizing. Secondly, I didn't want to tempt Mother with homemade hash browns, since she is going low carb these days. So we fixed frozen. They tasted like cardboard. Never again.

Michael had his first tennis team practice last night. When I got close to the house I decided to drive by the pool/tennis court area and see if I could spot him. I saw a little fellow ambling along the road and stopped and picked him up. It was at least 90 and his face was beet red and he was sweating bullets. As soon as we got home I fixed him a big glass of ice water, which he sipped. I then got the bright idea to give him Gatorade. We happened to have a bottle because we keep it on hand for Mother's leg cramps. He cooled down.

I sent my brother an email about it. Of course, he's in Baghdad, where it's 118 today - but it's a DRY heat. Here it's a WET heat, as in sauna. Brother [who has lived in Texas and Iraq and knows heat] set me straight on Gatorade:

I'd lay off the Gatorade - completely - it's full of sugar and tends to make the body NOT absorb water quickly. If his face is red, stick him in front of a fan and let the air cool him. Or a cold shower - what your trying to do is knock the heat down. Wiping off his face keeps him warm - evaporation is the cooling mechanism that sweating enhances. If you think he's short on electrolytes, make him eat at meal times. Sports drinks hurt as much as they help.

If you have to give him Gatorade, make it at half strength or cut it 50% with water. The sugar tricks your stomach into holding the water inside - less sugar lets the liquid go into your intestines to replenish your body.

Yikes. I didn't know that about Gatorade. All I know is it tastes horrible and is expensive. It looks good when poured over the head of a winning football coach. That's not a ringing endorsement, however.

Yesterday at lunch I got a bottle of Minutemaid pink lemonade. It said on the bottle to shake it before opening. So I shook it up, without thinking about it. After all, lemonade isn't carbonated. I opened it up and it spewed all over my desk, me, the carpet, etc. My cube smelled lemony all afternoon. The concoction they called lemonade tasted like club soda with a dash of Koolaid. Yucko. I was ticked.

This morning all I had time to eat at breakfast was a little bowl of Special K.

So food-wise and drink-wise, the past 24 hours have been awful. I didn't start this post thinking all I was going to write about was food, but so be it. I have to just vent sometimes.

I have lately been checking out this blog every few days: http://chocolatechic.wordpress.com/

Now today, I was disappointed by the cherry rhubarb cobbler. I've tried rhubarb pie. I just do not like it. I'm all about carrot cake - the beauty of it being I get a veggie and my sweet tooth gets satisfied at the same time. It's a win win situation. However, rhubarb? I can't get behind that.

But wait - scroll down. There's a recipe for chocolate pecan pie. YUM!! I am puzzled by one thing, however. It's called "Kentucky" pie - so where's the Kentucky sippin' whiskey, hmmm??!! I hear Kentucky, I think bourbon. Now, I am a teetotaler. I don't drink anything alcoholic. However, I am highly in favor of cooking with alcohol. [That reminds me of a joke, which I can tell because my parents were raised Baptist and I am now Methodist - "How can you tell the difference between a Methodist and a Baptist?" ANSWER: "The Methodists say Hi to each other in the liquor store!" LOL]

Anybody have a recipe for chocolate pecan pie with some booze in it?! Send it on. I need something to look forward to for next time I fall off the healthy wagon food-wise.

Tennis and Hemingway

When Michael was at camp, they showed all the kids how to play tennis. Michael played and won the camp tournament, and won a new tennis raquet. He demanded to go to the tennis courts and play as soon as he got home. I was only able to arrange that once, with Kate's son last Saturday. Mike said they played ten minutes then got in the pool and spent the rest of the time there. [Hey, it's hot. I don't blame them!]

Today, I sent this email to Bruce, and several others:
Michael had his first individual tennis lesson this morning, and I attended with him. He did great. He listened to Coach Tom, learned quickly, and showed off that powerful left arm of his.

Obviously, he needs practice in the basics, and the serve is a bit of a challenge, but he will get there. Within the first 5 minutes, with Coach lobbing the ball over the net to watch Michael hit, he turned to me and said “He can really HIT."

When Michael serves, he has to hold the racquet under his short arm, and toss the ball with his left hand, high in the air. That gives him time to grab the racquet and get in position to hit the serve.

At one point, Coach was showing Michael how to serve in the correct area of the court, and he told Michael to just throw the ball, into the right square. Michael did OK, but didn't get the ball in the right place. Then Coach asked if he’d ever played baseball and Michael said nope. Coach showed him a baseball throwing stance. Michael copied it perfectly, and threw the tennis ball so hard it was a major league line drive, right into the back fence. The next one was also powerful but went into the perfect spot on the court. Coach said “You SURE you’ve never played baseball?!"

I paid for 6 individual lessons, which we can accomplish before school starts on August 11.

Coach invited Michael to be on the tennis team. He is going to practice with the 8 & 9 year olds this week, until he gets the hang of it, then probably next week move up to be with kids his own age. I think he’s just starting Mike with the younger kids because of his inexperience.

I don’t know if this is going to really conflict with soccer this fall or not. If so, and I can’t work out the scheduling, I will ask Michael to choose the sport he prefers. It could be tennis. Last year Michael got rather frustrated with soccer, at times, due to being so small and the other boys getting to the ball quicker. Michael wasn’t able to score much. Since tennis is an individual sport, his size isn’t as important. The choice will be his, however, if the schedules conflict

When we got home, Michael said he was really tired, and he might not be able to do any schoolwork. I laughed. Granny will straighten him out on that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Today is Ernest Hemingway's birthday. If he weren't dead, he would be 109 years old. I have always been fascinated by his life, but not all that crazy about his books. I read The Sun Also Rises, and one of the books published postunmously, but never found him terribly readable. Too dry. Too macho.

His life, on the other hand, was intriguing. He was married 4 times. He and Scott Fitzgerald obviously had a fascinating friendship. I love the movie In Love and War, which is about his early years as a soldier in World War I. I own that one.

This is his house in Key West, which I want to buy so I can re-paint the shutters:

Loud Music in the Heat

I hate this weather. Today the high was 92. Tomorrow the high is supposed to be 96! Tuesday it cools down to 95! YUCK.

This is the price we pay for living in Atlanta and having nice weather 9 months of the year. June, July, and August are the months we endure sticky heat.

I ran in Kroger tonight to pick up some things I hadn’t been able to find at Publix yesterday, and the ice cream section looked like a plague of locusts had ripped through there. I couldn’t find the Breyer’s low carb ice cream we like. I did find some bars, which will do for emergencies. It’s so much easier to stick to a low sugar diet when one can have a little ice cream after dinner.

We’re not due to get any significant rain for another week.

Bruce called Michael this morning to wish him Happy Birthday, and they chatted a few minutes. It was good to hear his voice – I was sitting right next to Michael on the sofa and we have a speakerphone.

We met my cousin Jan and her son for lunch today at the Colonnade. Jan lives in Albany but was up here for a cousins reunion which we couldn’t attend yesterday.

She gave Michael a cute birthday present, a set of books. They are all by Mary Pope Osborne, and two are the Magic Treehouse series. Michael needs to read more.

The Colonnade had a new appetizer on the menu, something called redneck sushi. It looked like sushi [I had to try it] but it was pulled pork, rice, and several other ingredients. It was spicy and flavorful, and warm, unlike real sushi, which makes me gag. The waiter said the chef had created it and filmed a segment about it for one of the TV cooking shows.

I took the children roller skating this afternoon. What a nightmare. I took two books and tried to read while the kids skated. Michael came over every 10 minutes. Alesia and her two friends were great, and didn’t bother me. The music they played in that place was godawful – I don’t even know how to characterize it. It was a lot of slamming bass and screeching noise. I could hear the thump thump in my sternum. Ugh. I didn’t recognize a single song. Next time I am taking earplugs.

The most horrifying sight was a young woman with a baby and two toddlers. She tried to get out on the floor and skate with the baby in her arms. Yikes. I was so irritated she had a 1 year old baby in that incredibly loud place. I wanted to call DFACS on her, I was so angry. That child is going to have a hearing loss before he gets to kindergarten.

I know I am REALLY OLD now because all I could think of in the skating rink was “Why can’t they turn this crap music DOWN?!!”

Our movie tonight was Fool’s Gold, with Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson. It was baaaaad. Matthew is always delightful to watch, when he looks clean. In most of his recent movies he spends a lot of time looking dirty and unshaven and stinky. Thanks a lot, Mr. Unsexy Symbol. I used to think he was gorgeous.

Mike said the funniest thing the other day, and I forgot to mention it. He said something about “bones and arrows.” We laughed so hard.

We have seen a lot more emotionally volatile Alesia in the last week or so. She got upset and cried about an innocent remark Mother made about her hair this morning. Took me some fast talking to get her calmed down. The other day she cried over some annoying thing Michael was doing. I don’t know if this is just hormones, or if the therapist is starting to break down some barriers around her heart. I am prepared for either scenario, but I pray it’s the latter. Her previous mode was simply to divert her attention from anything upsetting and go into her little world. Now we are asking her to really think about things which are painful, and the really feel whatever she feels.

I think she is finally starting to understand that the therapist and I together have a net underneath her, and she won’t fall. It’s an amazing and scary thing to watch.

 

Mike is 12!

We’ve had a nice day, albeit very busy.

Michael and I went to Publix early this morning, then picked up iced coffees [decaf] from Starbucks, for a special treat. As soon as we got home and got the groceries unloaded, Michael wanted to open his presents.

His big presents were his hatchet and his new Razr scooter. He also got new wheels for his Heelys, a bunch of Naruto books, about 6 movies [they were on sale at Walmart], a new shirt, a stuffed monkey, etc.

He got the scooter out and was scooting around the front sidewalk until it got too hot. The high was about 92.

We found him a musical card that played the original “You Can’t Touch This” by MC Hammer – it happens to be Michael’s favorite song.

Lunch was an excellent meal at Dave & Buster’s. I was there for a company event a few years ago, but I didn’t realize how incredibly huge the game room is, and how many games there are. Alesia and Michael were like in kid paradise there. They love games. Michael’s favorite game was kind of an alarmingly realistic shooting game where he got to do a virtual commando raid. I was fascinated and horrified. I don’t allow Wii or Nintendo or X-box at the house, so wher they get to play videogames it’s a big treat.

We met my friend Kate and her husband and son at the bowling alley in Dunwoody, and bowled a couple of games. It was a lot of fun. Tommy, kate’s son, is a few years younger than Michael, but they get along well.

The bowling alley has these disco lights that were incredibly annoying. They also kept playing videos on screens all across the place where you rolled the ball – so it looked like one rolled the ball into the TV screens. I didn’t bowl. I talked to Bob.

We came back to the house and the kids went to play tennis and swim, and we grownups visited. Bob installed a new antivirus program on my computer. Mother fixed spaghetti for dinner. Afterwards, we had an ice cream cake from Brusters, which was very good, although Alesia was rather disgusted the ice cream was all chocolate. She prefers vanilla. The fact that the cake and frosting were vanilla didn’t appease her.

Kate and Bob gave Michael a cool gift, a model airplane made out of the same design as the Wright brothers’ first plane. They had vacationed in North Carolina and been to Kitty Hawk. Michael was fascinated.

So, it was a very nice day and I haven't done anything strenuous but wash a few dishes, but for some strange reason I am really tired.

Michael on the News!!

There was a news story done on one of the kids who went to Michael's Adventure Amputee Camp. The link is below. If anyone can figure out how to get me a copy of this on a disc I'd be grateful.

Michael has on a black tee shirt and red helmet and you can see him on a ropes course a couple of times.

http://www.wlos.com/shared/newsroom/special_reports/wlos_vid_78.shtml

Here it is

Look on the right for “Ryan’s story”

Shoes for Orphans - Please Read

I got this from my friend Janet Stebbins and I wanted to pass it along:

Wow-- look what showed up in the Lansing Journal this morning!  A great article

written by Janet Stebbins about Shore of Hope's shoe drive!!

http://www.lansingstatejournal.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2008807170378

 

 

Please feel free to pass this email and article along to anyone you think might like to learn about our little friends in Russia and perhaps lend a helping hand.   Check out the website for more info wwww.shoreofhope.com

 

Thanks!

 

 

 

- Janet

www.shoreofhope.com

 

Seeking Help and Healing

I talked to Colleen, Michael's therapist, about the burning sensation he was having. [He is not still having it today.] She is going to try and get him an appointment with a specialist in upper extremity and hand issues. I never knew there was such a thing. I'm happy to hear it, though.

I found an article that explains what may be happening, and here's the link: http://www.amputee-coalition.org/inmotion/may_jun_06/congenital_part3.html. Scroll down to the sub topic How Often Will My Child Need a New Prosthesis. It talks about bone overgrowth, which is what I am fearing is happening with Michael.

It was kind of Colleen to reassure me that if Michael does have this, that the surgery to correct it is outpatient surgery. I was afraid it was going to be some long ordeal.

On a happier note, I ordered Michael an ice cream cake from Bruster's, and got him a balloon for his birthday. We finished wrapping the presents last night. I so hope he will have a happy birthday tomorrow. I am not trying to have a party. We are scheduled to go bowling with some friends, though. We are going out to lunch, too.

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We watched the movie Ordinary People [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ordinary_People] last night. I remember seeing it when it came out in 1981 and being totally blown away by how realistic it was, and amazed at the performance of Timothy Hutton. It's the only really excellent film I could think of about a teenager seeing a psychologist or psychiatrist. I wanted to see what Alesia's reactions were to the film. She got very into it, probably because it's about a teenager. I did a quick google search just now and found where using this film as a teaching tool is not just my idea, it's been used by the American Psychiatric Foundation. http://ap.psychiatryonline.org/cgi/content/abstract/23/3/174

I wanted Alesia to care about the main character and watch as he heals with the help of a good therapist. Yes, it's a work of fiction, but it's also very realistic. It's easy to care about the characters.

Alesia always makes comments when she's watching a film, and they can be very telling. For instance, last night at one point the teenager had an emotional breakthrough and was sobbing and Alesia said softly "He needs a hug!" - and just then the psychiatrist hugged him. At another point she got very angry, because the mother in the film, brilliantly played by Mary Tyler Moore, is so cold and distant with her son.

I feel so strongly that movies are a fabulous way to teach kids without them knowing they are learning. I wanted Alesia to see how recalling the trauma would cause the boy to be able to process it and move forward. During the pivotal scene of that, I said softly, "See, he's finally able to remember and feel sad."

If nothing else, I hope it makes her think. Comparing her own past to what she saw, and empathizing with the boy, might help get her started on the road to recalling her feelings and processing them.

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As most of you know, I wear almost nothing on my feet but Crocs, the ugly but comfortable shoes which I fell in love with several years ago. They are the only shoes which feel good on my hobbit-like feet. I was absolutely delighted to see that Crocs fever has spread to the highest echelons of society. I think I will see if I can find a photo of McCain or Obama wearing Crocs - whoever wears them in public, that's who I'll vote for. LOL

Medical Issues

Yesterday was the medical problem day, and by the end I was exhausted.

Alesia came back from the pool on Wednesday with a horrible bloody place in the white of her eye. I looked it up on the computer and it’s called a something-or-other hematoma. Looks quite scary. However, it’s not serious. It’s like a bruise on the eye.

When Alesia got back from school yesterday she told Mother it was hurting, and the hematoma was spreading. So, I left work and took her to the eye doctor. She looked at the eye with that big light and reassured Alesia it’s just a hematoma, and said it will take a week or two to heal. She was very sweet to explain that. Alesia looked relieved.

I took both kids to get some frozen custard afterwards and Alesia wouldn’t take off her sunglasses. She looked like a celebrity in hiding.

We also ran by a little store in Tucker and bought a new bird feeder. We have an old tree stump in the back yard, and the aggressive squirrels knocked over the old bird feeder near the stump and broke it [the feeder, not the stump]. It was hanging from a shepherd’s crook, too. They climbed the crook like monkeys.

The funniest thing is that we have two corn plants growing below the bird feeder, where the corn I put out for the birds has dropped and sprouted. Mother said it won’t bear because it can’t cross pollinate, but it’s just funny looking out there and seeing it. If it does bear and the darn squirrels eat it, que sera sera. There’s another plant growing next to it that’s not a weed, but we can’t figure out what it is. That will be an interesting plant to watch, I imagine.

Towards the end of last night’s movie, Michael was cradling in the crook of his short arm the top of a prized china bowl that my mother got for a wedding present. It was odd looking, to say the least. Finally he admitted there was a painful burning sensation that was really bothering him, right near the amputation site. I got him an ice pack from the freezer for it. He had a hard tome going to sleep, even after I gave him Motrin.

 

The orthopedist told me when the bone in that amputated arm grows, Michael will experience agonizing pain and then quickly need surgery, to shave down the bone. It appears the bone may be growing. I am wondering about maybe some nerve damage causing the burning sensation. I don’t know what can be done, though. If the pain and burning continues today I may have to try and take him to the orthopedist we saw at CHOA who specializes in limb difference kids. He was a very nice man. I so dread Michael going to the hospital. He has a morbid fear of them. I pray we can avoid that.

 

It took two ice packs and Motrin to get Michael to sleep last night, then I couldn’t sleep for worrying about him. So I am wiped out tired today. 

 

Michael’s birthday is tomorrow. He will be 12 years old! Yikes.

The Many Tiny Mr. Wrongs in My Life

Last night when Alesia and I were in the car going home after therapy, I told her I have made many mistakes in my life. Everyone has. That's how life is - you make mistakes, you fix them as best you can. She is starting to see some of her past behavior as mistakes and starting to analyze it a bit, which is real progress. Learning to be introspective and contemplative is a tough thing for a former orphan. The survival mode is to simply live in the moment.

Michael was upset last night about his difficulty in learning the multiplication tables. I was able to tell him, truthfully, that it took me about 2 years to really learn them. I have little facility with numbers. I ordered an interesting workbook for him which is supposed to teach the multiplication tables with pictures. It was recommended to me by a friend who homeschools her kids. Mother didn't really understand it, so I am hoping Alesia can teach it to Michael this afternoon.

I said to him last night, though, that failure at something simply means you have to find another way to succeed. Failure is how we learn. That's something he is learning now, at 11, and Alesia is trying to understand at 17.

Michael is able to talk more openly about what upsets him, and so I have a tiny hope that we will have an easier time with him. Then again, the practical side of me says "Well, his challenges won't be the same as Alesia's, perhaps, but they will be there. Teenhood looms large." Yikes.

This morning in the car Alesia told me she had taken her new MP3 player to SCHOOL! I was aghast. "You need to be concentrating on BIOLOGY, not listening to music!" I fussed at her. Plus, it's likely to be stolen. Just when I think she's starting to get some sense, she comes out with something like that. She was genuinely puzzled at my dismay. 

However, back to last night. We had a good bonding time in the car last night because after I told her I made a lot of big mistakes in my life she asked me to name one. I had to think, oh, about 3 seconds.

"Well, every guy I was ever involved with was a mistake," I said casually. Her eyes got huge.

"Really? Why?" she asked.

"Well, I just always was too emotionally needy, was the biggest problem. I tried to make them my everythnig, and they ran in the other direction." [This echoed what we had been discussing in therapy, to a certain extent. It was true, though.]

I felt like I should tell her the truth. We talked a little about the last guy I dated seriously, who broke up with me just a few months before I came home with her from Russia.

I wound up the discussion by telling her, "Look, I am telling you this, because each and every guy I ever fell in love with hurt me. Hurt me bad. I never, ever want you to be hurt like that. I want you to choose wisely."

I got to thinking today, that makes it sound like all gloom and doom. The truth is, while the relationships were all dismal failures, I had some pretty funny dates.

I went through a period of time in my 30's when I was doing internet dating. I have friends who have found their spouses using internet dating sites. So I would "meet" a guy online, and if we clicked I would meet him in a public place, using no last names, and see if he was a possibility. None of them really worked out. I have often thought I could write a pretty humorous book about those crazy days.

** One guy, who I met at a very nice restaurant, had sent me a photo that was old. He was no taller than me, and he was as wide as he was tall. I could deal with that. The dealbreakers were that he did phone sales and he lived with his mother and didn't own a car. Those 3 attributes just made me back slowly out of the restaurant and speed walk to my car. I didn't even give him a ride to the train.

** One guy was a research scientist from Sweden who admitted to me rather early in the evening that no, he wasn't actually divorced yet. We spent the evening wandering around the mall looking for a fondue set for him to use in his new apartment. I had a feeling I didn't measure up to the blonde goddess he pictured himself with, but he was actually rather pleasant and we had a nice evening. I never saw him again but I didn't care. He and his fondue pot are probably very happy together somewhere and I hope he's divorced, if he's still on the net. I think of him as Mr. Fondue Pot Scientist.

** One of the first guys I met was a lawyer, and I vaguely recalled him being on the other side of a case from me when I worked for a woman I will call Josephine, a completely crazy attorney who drove me nuts for 6 years.  [She's the subject of a whole other book.] I think he was just curious to see what I looked like, because Josephine regularly caused secretaries and paralegals to have nervous breakdowns and quit, or just tell her off and then quit. I stuck it out for a long time, but only because I couldn't find another job. This attorney I went out with, although handsome and smart, was an ego maniac whose carefully coiffed hair and casual knocking back of several mixed drinks in a half hour ruled him right out of the picture, for me.

** I met one guy at a movie theater. This one, like so many guys I met, was short. I can deal with short, as long as a guy is not less than 5'4 [my height]. I cannot deal with men who have stubby little hands with long fingernails like an animal. YUCKO! I think of him as Animal Man. I wouldn't even share a popcorn with him. Him riding a kangaroo is my worst nightmare. [shudder]

** I met one guy at a Mexican restaurant near my job, for lunch, and I insisted we sit outside, where I nearly sweated to death. However, I didn't want to be indoors with him. He was probably less than 5'4 but he had on high heeled cowboy boots and a cowboy hat which made him almost eye level with me. I'm OK with costumes. Not a big deal. The dealbreaker was, he told me in excruciating detail about the house he had built for himself, with his bare hands, waaaay up in the North Georgia mountains, and how it was surrounded by security cameras, and motion detectors, and he had a terrific collection of rifles, grenades, etc. I smiled and thought "I will see you on the news one of these days, my Tiny Wacko Cowboy..."

** I was delighted to meet a guy I'll call John. He was a technical writer, and so sweet. When we met, I was dumbstruck by his voice, however. He was, as Seinfeld put it, a "high talker." Alesia's voice is lower than his. My mother's voice is lower. He was like a tenor who had sucked way too much helium. I am very sensitive to voices. I couldn't deal with his. I was hoping we could sustain a friendship, though. We did remain friends, for a while. It ended when he emailed me several of his "short stories." The "stories" were only a few sentences long. He got ticked when I told him honey you are writing poetry, not stories. So much for you, Mr. High Talker.

** The best of the internet dates was a guy I never actually met in person, an airline pilot who lived in Las Vegas. We had a number of intense phone conversations. He was funny. He said he had always dreamed of flying and had worked hard to get his commercial pilot's license, only to realize one night that he spent most of his time ferrying hookers from LA to Vegas, on a flight called "the dolly trolley." He broke up with me by telling me that our planned rendezvous was not going to happen because he had found a woman who LOVED golf, as much as he did. I didn't point out that wives #1 and #2 also liked golf, and that sort of obsession didn't exactly guarantee happiness, but he was too nice to diss. I still regret that he didn't work out, although I will never live in Las Vegas. I've no desire to even visit. I'm a southern girl and will be for life.

** I met one guy for lunch at his very expensive townhouse in midtown, near an area called Virginia Highlands. When we met, he looked at me like an auctioneer appraising a painting. I was frozen and didn't want to turn around and let him see my butt, even though I was a totally normal size then. I just felt like there was a lot of criticism behind his icy blue-eyed stare. I started to get mad and tell him off then I thought nope, I want a free lunch. So I joked and jollied him along, and got a nice lunch out of the deal. We ate lunch at a little Thai place and that had delicious food.

I have to confess, I have dated for food before.

Years ago, when I was in Knoxville and struggling to get through grad school and work, my parents' next door neighbor fixed me up on a blind date with a guy from her office. He had sounded very nice on the phone. I dressed carefully in a little black dress, put my hair up, wore high heels - I was going for the Audrey Hepburn look. I answered the door and nearly fainted.

This guy was standing there in a grey business suit -which was fine - but it didn't go with the bright orange [think road cone orange] parka, with a fur edged hood. He looked like Alfred E. Neumann, the little dude on Mad Magazine covers [see below]. I exclaimed about how cold it was that night, and went back to my room and changed into a denim jumper and a heavy turtleneck, with tights and loafers. He went out with me anyway, which was his mistake.

I insisted we go to an expensive Italian restaurant. I was living on like $30 a week for food and eating a lot of canned tuna and ramen noodles. I had a fine meal that night - lobster, I think. He proceeded to interrogate me like the KGB with a double agent. "How often do you work out? What's your religion? Can you cook?" etc. etc. At first, I was amused, because I knew I never wanted to see that goofball again. Then I started getting irritated. I decided to have some fun.

"You know, I have a confession to make," I said, taking off my lobster bib and leaning in close so he could smell my perfume and gaze into my big bluegreen eyes. "I really really want to get married, as soon as possible. I want a big wedding. I want to start a family right away. I'm thinking four kids would be awesome. What do you think? You're awfully cute when you smile..."

He froze, like a deer in the headlights.

He pulled out his calculator and paid the check.

I never heard from him again. My 4 little Alfred E. Neumann lookalike kids had to remain a mere fantasy. Darn. Here's a very close match to what Mr. Goofball looked like:

A Word from The Villain

Now that Michael's back from camp the house seems normal again. He slept like the dead Sunday night, from sheer emotional exhaustion, I think. He was really tired Sunday afternoon and kept saying "Nobody missed me!" even after our hugs and reassurances. Having lost one family, he will probably always have some extra anxiety about losing us. 

I noticed last night when I was cooking dinner that Michael was rather hyper. I was in a foul humor after a tough day, and the more grouchy I got, the more hyper he got. I didn't realize it until this morning when I was driving into work, brooding over the whole situation. I suspect perhaps it bugs him when I'm grouchy because it reminds him of his birthmother being in a foul humor and I imagine that caused her to drink more, and/or be more abusive to him. Even though I am never abusive, I can see perhaps there's a bad association there. I need to learn to be more calm.

Alesia and I got into this morning. We finished up breakfast and I said to her "We need to go upstairs and get dressed." We were both in gowns and robes. I got up and headed for the stairs and she followed behind saying "I need to go upstairs and get dressed?" in a somewhat snotty tone. I said "WE need to go upstairs." She said again "I need to go upstairs?" Now I was getting irritated. "No, WE! for heaven's sake!" She shot back "You don't have to say it in a mean way!" By then we were upstairs. "I wasn't being mean!" I said, exasperated.

When we were driving to school, I reminded her she often doesn't understand what I say and I have to repeat it. That doesn't mean I am being mean. She is way too sensitive. It's maddening sometimes. I will try to explain something and she will say "You're being mean!" and I'm not. Sometimes I just try to be detached, but that doesn't work either. Then she gets really upset. So then it becomes a case of me being the Villain. The other day she said I was a monster. I think she was half-teasing, but then again there may have been some truth to it. I'm not a monster. She may just think of me that way. I cannot fathom why.

When we have rows like this morning I get this picture in my mind of her packing her bags and leaving when she turns 18 next year, and it fills me with dread and panic. It's an irrational fear, I know, because she will have 2 more years of high school, but I worry that she will listen to bad counsel from others, and head off.

We have our work cut out for us in therapy.

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I found an interesting blog today, about cooking:

http://www.southernplate.com/

I always enjoy perusing cooking blogs, but I also find them a bit intimidating. I do not have the patience to take step by step photos of my cooking process.

Also, a lot of my favorite recipes are ridiculously simple.

For those of you on low carbs, here's an easy one. Take chicken tenders, wash and salt them, and put them in a shallow baking dish. Wash and slice mushrooms on top of them. Cover with heavy whipping cream and a heavy sprinkling of parmesan cheese. Bake at 350 for an hour, uncovered. Simple, huh?! I made it last night. [I think this is on my Recipes page but I'm not sure]

Now, if you want to make it a little more rich [!!] dip the chicken tenders in melted butter, then dredge in flour, and brown in the skillet a bit before cooking.

I also sauteed some yellow squash and onions in garlic and olive oil, and we had some pasta, and sliced peaches as a dessert.

Do you have an easy, family-pleasing dish you would like to share? If so, please leave it in a comment and I will publish it.

When I was a kid we used to sometimes make hot BLT's but without lettuce. We would take slices of bread, put on a slice of cheese, a tomato slice, and a broken up slice of bacon on it, and run it under the oven broiler until the cheese melted. Warning: don't put lettuce under the broiler! [For my friends who are clueless about cooking...LOL] You could add hot peppers, leave off the meat, whatever. You just have to be careful and watch the oven the whole time so there is no burning.