Thursday, February 28, 2013

Happy Trails

Well we safely arrived in Tahoe.  I thought I saw Anthony Bourdain in the Tulsa airport.  It was not.  I thought I saw Speaker Boehner in the Phoenix airport.  I did not.  Then to top it all off Denzel Washington wasn’t even flying our plane.  I guess he doesn’t fly for Southwest.  What a let down.  Eric did get crop-dusted by someone on the moving sidewalk so that was worth a laugh.

I did, however, get into an etiquette conundrum on the plane.  What is one to do when the person in the seat next to you is sleeping and rather large and her left butt cheek in covering your seatbelt?  Do you wake up your neighbor and politely say “Excuse me, but your ass seems to have eaten my seatbelt.”?  Or do you go with the snatch and grab?  I opted for the later.

After we were all settled in, there was one straggler still looking for a seat.

“Can I help you with your bag?” said the flight attendant.
“No, I’m just looking for a seat.” said the woman standing in the middle of no less than six open middle seats.
Then the flight attendant said, “Bitch please!  What do you think this is? Continental?  Sit your ass down!”
Ok, I made that up, but that’s how it played out in my head.  My version is better.

Now I must leave you.  I have to go attend this exciting medical conference.  No, it really is.  I think I just saw Dustin Hoffman.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

This Is Not A Perfect Picture

This is not a perfect family picture. But it's one of my favorites.  Here’s why I love it. It reminds me that I love my family with all their quirks and imperfections included. I love that my serious son is making a goofy face. Hudson, I hope that no matter what happens in your life that you always have time for a bit of silliness. Kenzie, my Tazmanian devil, is a ball of energy and therefore always has some fly-aways in her eyes. Kenzie, may your life be full enough that you always have a little hair in your face. Lastly, here is the most important thing. One day when I am old and gray, reflecting on my life and how quickly the sands of time have slipped through my fingers, I can look at this picture and it will serve as a reminder that there was a day that I had good boobs. Good enough that my husband wanted to look at them. He will say that that’s not what he’s looking at, but it’s ok…I know. May you love your imperfect family as much as I love mine.

Monday, February 25, 2013

The Dr. Pepper Gave It Away

Have you ever wondered what people are thinking about while they’re waiting in the checkout line?  I often wonder if people are having deep thoughts about the universe or the meaning of life.  Maybe they’re thinking about a fight with a significant other or how Helena Bonham Carter seems to have more hair than the average person.   If you are ever behind me in the checkout line, you can rest assured that I am not having deep thoughts.

While I was in the check out lane at Target, I was behind two women.  Both had long hair and long skirts like you might see in some religious groups.  The first lady finished paying for her groceries and waited for the second lady.  Lady #2 was telling her friend about how she was going to use her gift card to buy some children’s clothes.   Lady #1 told her “Make sure you put the clothes at the back so you can keep the groceries separate from the clothes on the receipt.”

Here’s what went through my mind: maybe they’re sister wives?

I bet that second lady is the newest wife and the first one is telling her how they do things.

Lady #2 proceeded to put economy-sized cans of green and baked beans on the conveyor belt.

Yeah, I bet they have a shitload of kids.

Lady #1 told lady #2 “I bought red Gatorade.”  Lady #2 answered, “Oh good, I bought the blue.”

Yes.  Definitely sister wives.

Then I thought: wait, this is silly.  I don’t think there are really that many Mormons in Oklahoma and there certainly can’t be very many polygamists.  This is just not that plausible. So instead I thought:  I bet they’re traveling.  I bet they’re just passing through Oklahoma.   Being the rational person that I am, I thought it more likely that these women were part of a band of traveling polygamists.  I will go ahead and apologize now for my use of the phrase “band of polygamists”, but I’m really not sure what the appropriate term is here.  I’m going to venture that there aren’t a lot of polygamists reading my blog anyway.

They continued to load up their groceries and I continued to daydream about this family of sister wives and their gajillion kids.

Then Lady #2 put Dr. Pepper on the conveyor belt.

Well, that settles it.  They can’t be a traveling group of polygamist because Mormons don’t drink caffeine.

Sigh.  Sometimes I worry about myself.

Friday, February 22, 2013

How Not To Do A Food Post

Today I’m going to try my hand at a food post.  I’m going to share with you a recipe I came up with a couple of nights ago.

1.  Put a whole spaghetti squash in the oven for 60 minutes at 375 degrees.

2.  While that is cooking make marinara sauce per Healthy Living How To recipe. Put in saucepan and simmer.

3.  Brown 1 lb. of grass-fed ground beef.  Add to marinara sauce.

4.  Take spaghetti squash out of oven and cut lengthwise.

5.  Realize you are a dumbass and that what you have is, in fact, butternut squash.

6.  Curse.  Any four-letter word will do here.

7.  Listen to your kids whining about how hungry they are.

8.  Come to the realization that you are just going to have to make this work.

9.  Come to the realization that you have no idea how to cut up a butternut squash.
Google “how to cut up butternut squash”.

10.  Repeat step 7.

11.  Repeat step 6 liberally.

12.  Randomly take a knife to butternut squash and hack away until you have bite-sized pieces of edible parts of butternut squash.

13.  Come to the realization that because you followed the directions for cooking spaghetti squash and not butternut squash about half of the pieces are not fully cooked and are rather hard.  Call it “al dente squash” and proceed to step 14.

14.  Pour meaty marinara sauce over al dente butternut squash.

15.  Gloat to your family about how you just came up with a new recipe.

16.  Share your newfound wisdom on your blog or social media of your choice.

Bon appétit!

Butternut Squash with Meaty Marinara Sauce.  Yeah, I meant to make this.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

The Crazy is Just Around the Corner

I like to have my kids think that I’m just a little unstable.  Just to keep them in line. Like if they mess up mom might loose it.  Not anything too crazy.  Just like if I find another pair of dirty socks in the living room I might start sobbing hysterically and yelling about how nobody appreciates anything I do and how that  freak Caillou, no matter how annoying he is, probably puts his f-ing socks in the dirty clothes hamper because he actually loves his mother all the while throwing laundry out the window. You know…normal mom stuff.

It appears I have been successful in my quest.

As we were driving to Panera the other day Hudson began channeling his inner Jim Carey and started making the most annoying sound in the world.  After about two straight minutes of “Wee-ooo  wee-ooo wee-ooo…” I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hudson, that’s enough now.”

My pint-sized muscle also know as my daughter chimed in.  “That’s enough, Hudson.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Kenzie!”
“That’s enough, Hudson!  Hudson, that’s enough!”
“Guys!” I yelled as we turned into the parking lot, “both of you knock it off!”
“Yeah, Kenzie” said Hudson “Stop or she might go crazy in the parking lot and break a car.”

And then there was silence.  Apparently they mulled it over and the thought of me losing my mind and ramming a car was in the realm of possibility.  Like I said, having your kids think you’re a little unstable is a good thing.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

When The Kids Are Away Things Pretty Much Stay The Same

Last Saturday my husband and I got to go out for an evening by ourselves sans kids.  His parents agreed to babysit and watch them over night.   We had planned on making arrangements to get them back Sunday.

“I’ll just bring them by Monday." said my father-in-law.
Our stunned silence must have thrown him for a loop.
“Is that ok?”
“Yes!  That would be great!”

Now I know what you’re thinking.  No, you can’t have my in-laws.  They’re all mine. Plus, we would end up in some weird Sister Wives scenario and as much as I enjoy the show, I’m just not down with that.  There are easier ways of finding a great sitter than turning to polygamy.

We met our friends for dinner and went to see Bill Maher at the Brady Theater.  I can already hear the collective moan from my conservative friends.  If it makes you feel any better my seat was very uncomfortable and I had a spring in my right butt cheek the entire time.

I went to bed that night thinking about how glorious it will be to sleep in.  Then I woke up at 7:30 like always.  Turns out the kids have my circadian rhythm trained.

I decided I would watch State of the Union on CNN, my Sunday morning ritual.  I thought it would be nice to watch it in under 2 hours this time.  With various demands for previously mentioned chocolate milk, waffles, settling disputes over who looked at who’s toy funny or the ever popular I’ve-just-yelled-your-name-for-1-minute-straight-but-now-that-I-have-your-attention-I’ve-forgotten-what-I-was-going-to-ask-you, it normally takes me that long with all the pausing.  That day I watched it in one and a half hours.  Alright so I still paused.  But it was for adult things like coffee and peeing by myself.

I had plans of cleaning the house.  I was going to organize the playroom.  I was going to read my book.  Instead I did a lot of napping and watching of crap T.V.   Turns out that when the kids are away things mostly just stay the same.  It’s just that those things are quieter and don’t involve refilling chocolate milk.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Antics at the Park

It's me again-Kenzie.  If you liked my antics at the pumpkin patch, let me show you my antics at the park.
Here is my brother.  He is quietly sitting by mommy enjoying the ducks.  He is a suck up.

Here's me.  I am really pissed at being told not to put mulch in my own hair.

Here's me not taking a picture with my brother.

I'm not really sure what I'm doing here, but I am definitely not cooperating for a picture with my brother.

One would think you wouldn't have to tell someone not pick up duck shit.  One would be wrong.  Here is a picture of me being restrained from picking up duck shit.

This looks like sweet moment with Omi.  If you consider a stern talking to about not running into the pond a sweet moment, then was.

Here I am being told yet again not to run in the pond.

Or maybe I was being told not to eat a half eaten soggy cracker I found on the ground.

I really can't remember as I did so many wonderful things.

Either way, I was not happy about being stopped from pursuing whatever brilliant idea I had at that time.

My family thoroughly enjoyed their time with me this afternoon.  I could tell by the way mommy lovingly tucked me in for my nap that day and sweetly said "For the love of God, please go to sleep."  I can't wait for our next excursion.  I think we're going to get a puppy since my mommy said something about bringing a leash. 

Friday, February 15, 2013

Photo Friday: Let them shoot cake

This week Sabine is participating in Oklahoma Women Bloggers "For The Love of Blogging" challenge, even though her guest blogger, Ann, is a traitor who moved to Texas.  Today's theme is food.

This is a cupcake that was almost too beautiful to eat (not that I didn't eat it, just saying). If you happen to be in Dallas and are considering a Day of Eating Awesomeness in the Sabine and Ann tradition, I highly recommend a trip to La Duni in Dallas or Fairview. This is the cuatro leches cupcake. And, really, if you're eating something that pretty, you might want to document it and share it on Facebook to make your friends jealous, er, I mean let your friends know. I'm far from an expert on food photography, but a great food photographer shares his tips for shooting food here.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Our Love Story-The Actual Version

This week I am participating in Oklahoma Women Bloggers "For The Love of Blogging" challenge.  Today's theme is love.

If Eric were telling our story of how we started dating, it would go like this.  “She bent over in Physics class and I thought she had a nice ass.”  The End.  That’s why he’s not telling the story.  I am. So here’s what happened.

I dropped a pencil and bent over to pick it up in Physics class and he thought I had a nice ass.  Alright that part's true.  He claims I did it on purpose.  I didn’t.  I can’t help it if I have a sensuous way of picking up a pencil.  It’s my curse.  Anyway, we did meet in Physics class in college.  We were lab partners.  Shortly after this incident he asked me out to lunch.  I said no.  I know, I know.  Right now this is sounding like a really horrible love story.  I promise it gets better.

So I said no.  Not because I didn’t want to.  I did.  It was because I was supposed to meet my friend and roommate for lunch that day.  I hoped he believed me and didn’t think I was just making excuses and we parted ways.  I went to the Union to meet my friend.  And I waited. And waited.  Finally, I gave up and got some food.  I sat down at a table by myself and started eating.  Then who should walk in but Eric. He looked in my direction and then turned around and walked out.  I panicked and gathered my things to go after him to explain myself, but I lost him.  Seriously, this story really does get better.

The next time I saw him in class I explained what happened.  He laughed and said he didn’t see me.  If you ask him about it now, he will claim that he did see me and tell you what an asshole I was. That’s because he’s a liar.  He did however ask me out again and I said yes.

He picked me up in his red Chevy Cavalier and we went to Spaghetti Warehouse and then bowling.  We recently had a disagreement if our first date was indeed at Spaghetti Warehouse.  It was.  He doesn’t know what he’s talking about and that’s why I’m telling the story here.

Either way, it doesn’t really matter.  What matters is that he asked me to marry him and I said yes.  What matters is that we have two crazy beautiful children together.  What matters is that I love him a little more everyday.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Eric.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Everyone Should Have an Ann

This week I am participating in Oklahoma Women Bloggers "For The Love of Blogging" challenge.  Today's challenge is all about friends.

So today’s blogging challenge is all about friends.  I will admit that writing about my best friend is a challenge not because I don’t have anything to say about her, but how do you sum up in one short blog post a person who you have known for 20 years.  I’ve been trying to think of the perfect story to sum up my BFF, Ann.  I could tell you about meeting her at 14 yrs old.  I could tell you about the multiple times we’ve gotten lost together because neither one of us has any sense of direction.  And I could tell you about that time in high school that we were having deep thoughts about what it meant to be popular while coloring with and sniffing scented crayons.  I really wish I was making that last one up, but we did rightly conclude that popular people probably spent their time doing much cooler and less weird things with their time.  But none of these stories sum up Ann.

Because she’s more than my best friend.  She is literally the sweetest person I know.  She drove through the night in an ice storm to visit me when Hudson was born.  She has the patience of a saint when she plays with my children.  She was a Big Sister.  She helped me start my blog.  Her sweetness transcends our friendship and is recognized by more people than just me.  Like my 5-year old son who loves her.  So I will tell you this story.

Several months ago we were getting the family ready for a trip to Dallas to visit Ann.  We were going to pick up Hudson from preschool and then hit the road.  Eric and I drove through the pick up lane and Hudson’s teacher opened the door to help him in.

“Hudson said he was going to visit his aunt.”
“His aunt?”
Hudson chimed in.  “No!  My ANN!”

As we were driving he asked me, “Mommy, who’d grandma’s Ann?”
“What do you mean sweetheart?  Grandma doesn’t have an Ann.”
“Well, doesn’t everybody have an Ann?”

No sweetie, but they should.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Don’t a Judge a Book by the S*#t Found Inside It

I am participating in Oklahoma Women Bloggers "For the Love of Blogging" challenge.  Today's challenge is all about knicknacks or collections.

It may appear at first glance that my house is messy.  It’s not.  I am eclectic collector.  For instance, I have a great piece of abstract art.  It’s called “An Expression of Our Inner Beast” in the medium of dog hair.  You can find it proudly displayed along my baseboards.  The artist is a very hairy German with bad breath named Cooper Brown. He’s been known to poop in our house, but what are you going to do? Artists are eccentric.

I have a collection of laundry that would make you jealous.  I have my collection sorted into colors, whites, and shit that has ended up on the floor.  I also have a collection of dirty boys socks that is so valuable it sometimes has to be hidden in the couch cushions.

You might also assume that I have a stack of empty checkbooks with just the carbon copies because I am too lazy to shred them.  Wrong again.  I keep them so I can remember that day I paid my car insurance and remember it fondly.

That file of 5 year old credit card statements?  That’s Great Recession history.  One day I’ll show those to my children as I tell them the tale of how their patriotic grandmother supported her country’s failing economy by buying an extra pair of shoes.

And why would someone need ten tubes of nude lipstick?  Look if you have to ask, I can’t explain it to you.  Only a true connoisseur of make-up would understand.

Now, if you will excuse me I’m going to go admire my collection of junk mail.

Monday, February 11, 2013

It's OK That I'm Not Mrs. Jordan Knight

Today I am participating in the Oklahoma Women Bloggers "For The Love of Blogging" challenge.  Today's challenge is "For The Love Of Music".

“Before you ask, it’s Black Keys.” said my husband while we were listening to the radio in the car yesterday.  He said it because every time a Black Keys song comes on I say, “Hey, I like this song.  Who sing this?”.  I am the worst Black Keys fan ever.

I can’t help it.  I’m horrible at remembering bands.  Music however will bring back a flood of memories.

For instance every time I hear CCR “Bad Mood Rising”, I still hear it as “There’s a bathroom on the right” and remember laughing about it when I was 8 years old.  I remember thinking I was the only person who heard it this way and thinking I was ridiculously clever.  As you can see, not a lot has changed.

And every time I hear a New Kids of the Block song…ok that’s a lie.  Nobody hears a New Kids song unless you’ve actively searched for a New Kids song.  Alright, every time I see that Old Navy commercial with Jordan Knight or hear about one of their reunions I am reminded of my best friend from childhood, Amy.  We were both completely in love with Jordan Knight.  We even had a plan of how we could both marry Jordan Knight although I can’t remember exactly what the plan was.  Something to do with him discovering he had a twin who was also named Jordan or we were sister wives.  I’m not really sure, but the important thing here is if we had just put a little more effort into human cloning you would be reading the blog of Mrs. Sabine Knight.

Hearing any Green Day song from the album "Dookie" reminds me that I really need to apologize to anyone that was on the school bus with me and my friend Tabatha circa 1994.  We sang those songs daily at the top of our lungs.  We thought we rocked it.  We rocked nothing.  There was absolutely nothing rockin’ about our cover of Green Day.

There is a whole host of songs that remind me of my best friend Ann.  She is an absolute pro at mishearing song lyrics and it is one of the things I love about her.  She puts my “bathroom on the right” to shame.  In her wonderful word, Ricky Martin “woke up in New York City, in a funky chicken town”, Snoop Dogg did not “drop it like it’s hot”, but he did “drive it like a tractor”, and Ini Kamoze was not a lyrical gangsta, but he was a leprechaun gangsta.  Do not F with his lucky charms because he will put a cap in your ass.

And “I Wanna Kiss You All Over” reminds me why I am Mrs. Sabine Brown.  When we were dating, Eric used to sing it to me in the best falsetto voice you’ve ever heard.  It still makes me smile.  Move over cloned Jordan Knight, I’m already married to my rock star.

 (I did not find this song creepy until I found this video.  Eric's version is more "Happy Gilmore".)

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Awesome With a Side of Hummus

Sometimes I'm so awesome I can't stand it.  You want photographic evidence you say?  Well alright...
That, my friends, is a picture of my children eating carrots with hummus while playing an alphabet game.  Nutrition.  BAM. Learning.  BAM.  Middle Eastern chickpea dip high in protein, fiber, and a whole bunch of other stuff that's good for you all the while getting exposure to food from other countries.  BAM!  I parented so damn hard June Cleaver ain't got nothin' on me.  Parenting...pfft...I got's this all. day. long.  Or at least until about 2:00 at which point I will be needing a nap.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Photo Friday: Black and white, baby

Guest Post from Ann

Sometimes your color doesn't pan out. (I'm talking in photography, here, not if you're tanning with motor oil or something, not that I'm currently watching a TLC show that features such nonsense). It tends to discourage me. I took some photos of my daughter in the backyard and the color was disappointing. But I tried black and white, and I really liked this one. The lesson here is to feel free to play around with black and white sometimes -- and both have black and white options. Also, you might want to skip Gypsy Sisters on TLC.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

A Letter to My Son

Dear Hudson,

I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.  You’ve shown me that you have the foundation for success and you probably don’t even know it.

The last three winters we have gone to the ice-skating rink.  Every year by the time we got there, you were too afraid to ice skate.  But not this year.  This year you announced that you were 5 and that you would try it.  You were still afraid.  You clung to our hands but you did it.  With every lap you got braver.  You got nervous when you started to fall, but you kept going.

Then we started you in swim lessons.  You screamed and cried the first three times.  Despite your fear you did everything you were asked.  You were afraid to put your head in the water.  You were afraid to get your ears wet.  First, you put just one ear in the water.  Then both for just a second.  Then you went completely under the water.  You swam with just the noodle and you even jumped in the pool.  You did all of this despite the fact that you were terrified.

And I know it ain’t easy.  Trust me, I know.  I wish I wouldn’t have passed on my anxiety to you, but that’s the way it is.  Sorry kid.  I know you won’t use it as an excuse.  I know you will continue to meet your goals one tiny step at time with the perseverance to see it through until the end.

Because success doesn’t come through blasting through each hurdle with guts and glory.  Sure there will always be that freakishly talented kid that’s a violin prodigy at four or the kid who makes 25 touchdowns in one game, but that’s not how it works for most of us.  The success comes through chiseling away at that next goal, one tiny bit at a time.  And sometimes we fail.  That’s alright.  Don’t let a little failure stop you.   Because it’s only failure if you don’t learn something from it.

I know you will continue to learn and overcome because I’ve seen you do it.  One tiny step and one ear at a time.  So chisel away my son.  If your chisel breaks I promise I’ll be there with a new one.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Learning to Swim Kinda Sorta Not Really

We took the kids to the pool last week.  When Kenzie started jumping in the pool and then telling us to “go away”, we decided it was time to put her in swim lessons. 

I took her for the first time today.  I knew it would be a long 30 minutes when I she didn’t want to join the rest of the group because she was busy playing.  She shuns conformity.  And pants.  Sometimes she shuns pants.

She also refused to blow bubbles even though she does it without problems every time we go to the pool.  I guess she just doesn’t like the man telling her what to do.  Even when the man is a very nice teenage girl.

When she became loud and disruptive, the instructor gave her a dolphin toy to play with.  Kenzie repaid her for her kindness by not participating in the “let’s make our hands into ice-cream scoops” portion of the lesson and instead continuing to play with her toy, splashing me and the people around us, and in general acting like a jerk.

Then came time for the kids to jump in the pool.  Finally, an activity she could get behind.  Until she got tired of it, that is, and decided to run off down the length of the pool.  The other more obedient children stopped what they were doing to watch her and for a moment, I thought she was going to start a toddler revolution.  I expected her at any moment to yell “Swim school is a farce!  They are trying to drown you!  Follow me if you want to live!  Or if you want chocolate milk because I can totally reach the chocolate milk in the café.”  She didn’t, but it turns out yelling, “You are being a bad influence!” at a 2-year old is not a deterrent to continued bad behavior.

We ended the lesson with her not wanting to get out of the pool.  As we were walking back to the locker room, we passed the lap pool.

“Wanna go in there.” she told me.
“You can’t go in there.”
“Because it’s deep and you can’t swim.”

Maybe now she will realize why swim lessons are important.  Maybe she will stop taking her pants of randomly throughout the day or yelling about bacon.  They all have about the same chance of happening.

Taken last summer.  Since she now likes to jump in the pool without regard to her ability to swim, I have not had the energy to take a more recent picture.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Children's Shows are Dirty

I've been reminded that it's not just the children's books that are creepy.  It's also the shows.  This one is just a parody.

But this one is real.

Happy big banana day!

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Too Slutty for Caché

I never go into Caché, but at the mall the other day, a dress in the window caught my eye.  I thought I would go in and try it on.  I looked for my size but they were fresh out of midget sizes.

“I think the dress on the mannequin might be your size.  Want me to get it for you?” said the saleslady.

I almost said no.  Her having to strip a mannequin would leave me too far in her debt.  I can’t say I’ve ever stripped a mannequin, but it seems hard.   What if I tried it on and didn’t like it and she was all like “but I stripped a mannequin for you!” and I would be all like “I’m sorry.  Yes, of course I’ll buy this dress.”  Then I would have this ugly ill-fitting dress in my closet that I never wore but would feel bad throwing out because it’s a brand-new dress that I paid good money for.   Then I would feel bad and wear it anyway and my friends would ask me why I’m wearing a dress that doesn’t even fit and I would say “because someone stripped a mannequin for me” and they would forever think of me as some pervert who has a thing for naked mannequins and I just couldn’t handle that kind of humiliation!  Whew.  Now…where was I…

Oh yeah…I went ahead and said yes and tried it on. I guess mannequins only come in my size at Baby Gap because the dress was too long.

“How’s it working for you?” asked the saleslady.
I came out of the dressing room.  “It’s too long.  I’d like it better if it was about here”, I said pulling the dress up a little past my knees.
“Yeah, our clients typically like a longer length.  They generally like to have their knees covered.”

Basically, she politely told me I dress like a hooker compared to their average customer.  So you could look at this one of two ways. One-I’m too slutty for Caché.  But I like to look at it this way. I’ve still got it and I’m too slutty for Caché.

The models show more skin than the average Caché customer.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Photo Friday: Benefit of pug ownership

Guest Post from Ann
One of the benefits of pug ownership is that food rarely hits the floor.