Oh, And Boo!

Boo! Jason Whitlock! You Fail! This is you:

The common or garden troll.

Boo!

Cheers,

Breanna

P.S. Here's an article from a *real* journalist.

When Even Englishmen....

...can't help but yell "Go! Go! USA!"

Ian Drake is one of the commentators on ESPN's coverage of the World Cup.  You should have heard the snide in his voice during the US/UK game, so he's not exactly on our side unconditionally.  But the heartstopper last-minute goal against Algeria showed up clearly that "special Anglo-American relationship" that Mr. Churchill was wont to go on about.

And may I just say how proud I am of our boys?  I'm not that into soccer--although the World Cup has been treating me to some pretty great games lately, did you SEE Italy lose to Slovakia? wow--but if America's going to compete on a world stage, of course I want us to win.

Despite getting a goal stolen from them earlier in the tournament, and again in the Algeria game, the American team refuses to complain and see themselves as victims.  In the words of Landon Donovan, the player who scored the last minute goal, "You can moan about it or you can get something done.  We embody the spirit of America and that's what we did."

We probably won't advance too much further, but the U.S. hasn't won a game 3 (this game against Algeria) since 1930.  So I'm actually feeling a glimmer of hope that we might just surprise everyone yet.

Cheers,

Breanna

Salad - Or, Eat The Bacon

So as I'm writing this I'm eating my version of something called "Pregnant Chef's Salad" from the "What to Eat When You're Expecting" book.  Like everything in the "What to Expect" books, it's full of useful (stern) information with condescending (cute) subtitles.  I altered the recipie somewhat.  It calls for potatoes (in a salad? that isn't a potato salad?) and a can of tuna; I like tuna on salad but I didn't want to eat a whole can by myself.  So on my salad I have a scoop of (a different) quinoa salad and some chopped turkey lunchmeat.  It made me think back to an episode in my first pregnancy, when I was still working in a medical office.

It was a nice office and I liked almost everybody who worked there.  We usually got a full hour for lunch.  Some days, however, were so very busy that the doctors elected to pay us overtime, and we either sent someone to pick up lunch for us, or ate the pizza the drug reps brought.  (Yep, that's what Pfizer does with the money.  They used to bring us pens and kleenex too.)  On this particular day there was no drug rep food left in the breakroom (or if so, it was old Subway sandwiches--they don't age well) and none of us felt we could leave for lunch.

We quickly evolved a plan to send a runner to McDonald's.  The gal who was going looks at me (then about seven months along, I think) and said, "Do you want us to pick you up a salad at McDonald's?"

I wish, looking back, that I'd had the ovaries to say what I was thinking, which was "Heck no! I want a double quarter-pounder with cheese, or something with more bacon if they have anything with more bacon.  And the biggest size of fries.  And a Coke the size of Denmark."

Instead I said, "Oh, yeah, that would be great" and shelled out four dollars for lettuce, parmesan shreds, and two cherry tomatoes.

This is instructive for a couple of reasons, if you look at my thought processes.

1. I was reading "What to Eat When You're Expecting", which pretty firmly comes down on the "fries = evil, greens = holiness" side of the controversy.  As in, "you must make every bite count for your unborn baby who is counting on you".  They repeat the "make every bite count" rule so often that you're led to feel that if you have a bite of ice cream, you're starving your child.  So I went with the greens out of mommy guilt.

2. The gal who was asking me was short, bubbly, easily miffed, and...erm, inclined to embonpoint.  I didn't usually think about this fact, but she'd been telling everyone she was on a diet, and I didn't want to go waving my bacon all in her face.  I liked her.  I also sat close to her and didn't want her to be miffed.

3. The What to Expect ladies also instill a low-grade fear of gaining "too much" weight, though they cleverly never really tell you what "too much" is.  They just insist that if you have heartburn/constipation/morning sickness/stretch marks/varicose veins/sore feet/aching back/shortness of breath or indeed, any of the many complaints of late pregnancy, that perhaps you gained too much weight too quickly.  They helpfully add to this the sage advice that "now is not the time to diet".  (As indeed it isn't, but... what am I supposed to do about my varicose stretch marks?)

4. I had already been assured by one of the nurses, watching a pregnant patient walk away, that they were confident I would never "waddle like that".  So.  Couldn't let 'em down.

On such illogic are our dietary choices made.  On the whole, I'm way happier with my cobbled-together salad today that I made basically because I wanted something crunchy with ranch dressing on it, and I had no Ruffles.

I DO eat healthy food, in case you were thinking I've thrown all caution to the winds with this pregnancy.  But I've definitely thrown fear in eating to the winds.  I think I'm too tired not to eat the bacon when I want the bacon.

Cheers,

Breanna

Not Tired

The fact that Miss Boo and Brother felt we should all get up at 5:30 this morning has nothing to do with it.  (They did that for my own good, you know.)

After creating this...

...and this...

...and this...

...he's not tired.  Not at all.

Neither is she.

(This is just a spare picture of Baba and the two boys that I took while we were at Grammy and Baba's house, but that I didn't post until now.  I like how Brother looks like he's in training for Uncle Sam, and his cousin looks like he has doubts about the photographer's--my--intentions.)

Cheers,

Breanna

Tornadoes and Tummy Troubles

There was a tornado in a town in my state today; a rare thing for us.  Here's a video of it blowing down a big arena.  (Ain't YouTube wonderful?  I post a link and not the video because the people filming the tornado are so impressed they swear.  So mute your speakers if you don't want to hear it; you can pretty well guess their reaction anyway--along the lines of "oh, wow, that's big and dangerous and we're FILMING it!")

As if in response to this metaphor, the Husband (and to a lesser extent, Miss Boo) have been having tummy tornadoes since yesterday afternoon.  I've been pouring Gatorade and Pedialyte down their gullets and trying to think of appetizing ways to combine bananas, rice, toast, and applesauce.  (Answer: there isn't one.)

I was going to take a picture of Miss Boo "helping" me fold laundry today, but couldn't quite coordinate it.

Likewise, I was going to take a picture of Brother with chocolate ice cream smeared on his face.  (What?  It becamse apparent we were all craving ice cream, and it stayed down, and everyone felt much better.  Not the least Mama, who's been wracking her brains for something, anything to feed her brood.)

A few things I have learned:

You can make a very nice chicken broth with one chicken leg and about two and a half cups of water, and from that you can make chicken-rice soup.

The ice cream really was a good idea.

They make Gatorade in a powder, like Kool-Aid; they make Pedialyte the same way.  Not bad stuff to have in the cabinet, so you don't have to pack everyone up into the car and leave them groaning in the parking lot while you run into the store and grab rehydration fluids.  I'm just sayin'.

Ice makes almost everything more appealing.  The soft ice from Taco John's would have been even better but I didn't have access to that.

It's easier to poach eggs in a frying pan than a saucepan.

I'll try to have pictures next time.

Cheers,

Breanna

We're Back!

...Did you notice we were away?  We were at Grammy and Baba's house.

In other news, my story "The Fisherman's Tale" is up at Enchanted Conversation, and the U.S. is miraculously still in the World Cup.

I don't single parent well. I'm glad the Husband returns from his business trip today... I get kinda used to having him around the house, you know?

Cheers,

Breannna

The World Cup

No, I'm pretty sure PBO isn't watching.  He's too busy thumbing his nose at the Brits in a bad way.  (See, it seems to me that liberals only like soccer when they're making fun of people who like NFL football; they don't really like it once it gets to the feircely competitve level it has in the rest of the world.  They want their kids to play soccer because hicks and Texans play high school football, but they don't really want them to play competitvely and they don't care about the World Cup.)

I don't either, although it's the one time I'll sit and watch soccer games; and the Husband likes to watch it so I humor him.  However, there's one interesting game coming on today, between Britain and the U.S.



They *should* beat us but good, but you know there's always a chance that assumptions like that won't work out.  It's happened before...

I'll cheer for the U.S. team, but in a nice way.  Because I like the English, in spite of my predeliction for Challenger commercials.  Most Americans like the English.

So, England, on behalf of the rest of America, I apologize for PBO sending the Queen a birthday card on the wrong day, and for his other mistakes.  I'm not sure why the country was so sure that electing someone from Chicago would make the presidency so much more smooth, polite, and genteel than it was under someone from Texas, but I apologize.

I also apologize for the whuppin' we're about to hand you on the soccer field in South Africa.

(Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?)

Cheers,

Breanna

Maybe Changin'

Blogger has this new "Design Template" feature, so you may see things change around here.  I have the current template because it was the least annoying one to me (and it didn't look like I was making a hip music blog... or a hip anything blog...).  We'll see what we can come up with, eh?

It's been a little while since I updated, so just thought I'd let everyone know we ARE still alive and doing well.  The garden is getting on its feet, the babies are never off theirs, Brother is weaning, Miss Boo is drawing, and I am spending most mornings trying ardently not to puke.

Give you three guesses why.

Cheers,

Breanna

Funny, but Kinda...

...too true.



Cheers,

Breanna

Plant (and Other) Babies

Well, the plant babies on my windowsill are getting along, though the bok choi and the jalapeno peppers seem to be developmentally challenged.  I begin to think I'll be raising them in pots, or bubbles, like John Travolta in that old movie where he dies in the end.  (Not Carrie.  The other one.  The one where you're supposed to feel bad for him, but really you're just like: so, was the experience of high school worth death, when honestly most people spend their adulthood trying to forget high school?  Didn't think so.  Should have listened to your overprotective mother!)

See what I mean about the peppers (on the left)?  The tomatoes are going great guns.  You'd think the peppers could learn from their example.

My tiny herb garden is producing already and has flavored a few dishes--mostly the oregeno, which you can't see in this shot, but which is growing exhuberantly.

It took me four tries to get this shot of Brother playing with Miss Boo on his bed, because...

...of this: "Take a picture of MEEEE Mama!"

"I am taking a picture of you."

"Argheahgh!  It's gonna be bright for me!"

And she hides.  Sigh.

A rare dual coloring session where the boy isn't eating crayons.

Art requires a sort of bohemian approach to where you color.  If the art demands the kitchen floor, well, then you've got to color on the kitchen floor!

"For ME, Mama?"  (I was offering her a magnetic number six, I believe.)

He's actually graduated from this chair to a booster seat, and Miss Boo has graduated to a big girl (i.e., a normal) chair.  And Brother has been eating with a fork for a few days now, and eating much better than he did when required to pick things up with his "fingas".  Sigh.  They grow up so fast.

For those of you who wonder what I'm on about when I tell you (over and over) to plan meals, and who think "ah, I don't know how/don't have time/can't think of anything" - well, here.  The Women's Day June Menu Plan and Shopping Lists.  I don't know that I would save any money doing their menu, but if you're eating out four times a week (that's the American average!) you sure would save doing this.  You'll notice they do one each month.  The meals feed four; if two of your four are toddlers (like me) this means essentially you need to cook for two and a half; one and a half servings left of stuff makes a nice lunch the next day, which eliminates the need to buy a burger at work.  (No, your coworkers won't look at you funny for bringing leftovers.  They're too busy worrying that you're looking at them funny because they decided to boldly declare their political opinion on a coffee mug.)

There, that's your last excuse gone.  Go thee forth and plan menus.

Cheers,

Breanna