it’s under duress…

…that i post this.

For the record, Emily is making me do it.

Emily says that today (National Scrapbooking Day don’tcha know), the only way I can win this box of scrumptious scrapbooking goodness is if I take a self-portrait of, well, myself.

Oy.

Do you understand how much I despiiiiise having my photo taken, Emily? Do you? It’s painful, what you ask of me, Emily. We’re talkin’ physical pain. For reals.

And then, as if that process isn’t tortuous enough, I have to actually PROVE that I’ve taken said portrait by, Lord help me, posting the blasted thing on my blog and providing her with the link.

Curses on you, Emily.

I want that box of scrumptious goodness.

So here I am. In all my self-portrait glory. About 10 minutes ago.

Thank God for the crop tool. That’s all I’m sayin’.

Now hand over the goods.

pi day revisited

So, I’m starting to realize that pie recipes? Don’t tell you everything you need to know.

They leave out crucial information. Stuff that should be written out plainly in the instructions so that the would-be baker has fair warning and can avoid certain demoralization on Pi Day, one of the most beloved pastry/math holidays of the year.

For instance, this is how my Butterscotch Cream Pie recipe should have read…

Heat butter and brown sugar over medium-low heat until butter melts and sugar dissolves.

Combine flour, milk, egg yolks and salt in separate bowl.

Add flour mixture to butter mixture. Stir constantly over medium-low heat until mixture thickens.

Prepare to be completely frustrated as liquid never thickens. Not even after stirring and stirring and stirring some more. And stirring. And stirring. And then add more flour, because maybe it would finally thicken if it just had more flour. Only then the flour clumps up because you’re a dumbass, and you don’t dissolve it in a small amount of milk before adding it to the completely liquid concoction in a panic. Because, OMG, it just. won’t. thicken.

Spend next 10 minutes desperately trying to spoon up little flour clumps from liquid concoction, all the while cursing under your breath so that the kids don’t hear your bad language.

Pour thickened (yeah, right) mixture into prepared pie crust and bake at 350 degrees until set.

Only it will never set. Not until you’ve baked it for an hour and the crust has become a lovely shade of bark brown. And with the bark color comes a bark consistency. YUM.

Start cursing out loud because why bother keeping it quiet at this point? Let’s be honest…the kids have been hearing you all along.

Remove pie (that’s still jiggly, by the way…) from oven and allow to cool completely before topping with freshly whipped cream.

Accept resignation and hold back tears because Pi Day just never works out the way you want it to. Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? Betty Freakin’ Crocker?

My hand to God, next year? I’m opening a can of fruit pie filling, dumping it in the crust and callin’ it good.

Anyway, here’s the photographic proof that despite my miserable lack of skills in the pie-baking realm, at least I looked good whilst trying.

Again, thanks to my dear friend, Kim, for scoring these treasures for me.

Have you ever seen a cooler pi plate? I think not.

Any pastry chef will tell you that the key to a good pie is the crust.

Pay no attention to the Pillsbury Pie Crust box in the background. I have no idea how that got there. Someone was obviously trying to sabotage my reputation. Like I would use a pre-made crust. Psh.

(Truth be told, I’m actually hella glad these things come with a pair of crusts to the box, though, because before I completely messed up the filling to the final pie, I totally overcooked the first crust. The bark brown crust in the 2nd pie was actually Crust, Take 2.) (No, I’m not joking.)

Here’s that sweet, sweet apron I was telling you about…

And the view from above…

Isn’t it CUTE???

And I’m not quite as cute, but you can’t say I’m not saucy.

Here’s the finished product. In all it’s jiggly, bark-crust glory.

In the end, it didn’t taste horrible. Not completely, anyway. As long as you chewed carefully and avoided tooth damage from gnawing on the bark crust, it wasn’t the worst dessert experience ever. Probably. Maybe. If you’ve had some pretty miserable dessert experiences in your time.

Ah, Pi Day. I’m glad it only comes once a year. I need the other 364 days to recuperate emotionally.

her morning elegance

Have you seen this video by Oren Lavie yet? Absolutely. Cool.

Her Morning Elegance/Oren Lavie

can ya hear me roarin? ’cause i’m roarin’.

And why am I roarin’?

I AM WOMAN, that’s why.

Here’s the sitch. Needed new wiper blades. Bought myself new wiper blades. Told The Hubs I bought new wiper blades, and asked The Hubs if he would install said wiper blades. Batted my eyelashes and everything. The Hubs agreed to install the wiper blades. The Hubs got busy. Didn’t install the wiper blades.

It’s ok. He’s a busy Hubs. I totally get it.

Asked Hubs again to install wiper blades a few days later. Hubs remained busy. (He’s truly a very busy Hubs these days.) Rather than a) resorting to nagging The Busy Hubs about the wiper blades, and b) driving around for countless more days with a streaky windshield due to ineffectual wiper blades, I thought…

Why not just do it my damn self?

Why not indeed.

So you know what I did?

I installed the wiper blades.

I did! I totally did! It took some doing, given that the instructions contained on the wiper blade packaging were about as helpful as a gator at a Tupperware party. (Ok, so the analogy doesn’t make sense. But it’s also not very helpful. Much like the ridiculous packaging instructions. Totally nonsensical and in no way helpful.)

But the internet is a wonderful thing, people. I googled “how to install wiper blades”, and was presented with multiple videos on how to do just that! (Need to change out your wiper blades but not sure how to go about it? I’d give this tutorial two thumbs up. And no gators. Or Tupperware. It was informative, yet mildly entertaining. Bonus.)

So. Several trips in and out of the house later, so that I could watch the videos over and over (because what fun is getting something right the first time?), and with help from the little blue stepstool from the kids’ bathroom to allow me to reach the wiper blades (vertically challenged doesn’t even begin to describe my stature…i’m freakin’ stature challenged. Period.), I’ve got two new beeeyoooteeeful wiper blades on my truck.

My hands even got a little dirty in the process.

I’m so impressed with my bad self.

I am woman.

Rawr.

iiiiiiiiit’s Pi day!!!

Wow! Pi Day! 3/14 totally snuck up on me this year! I mean, I knew it was coming, somewhere back in the deepest corner of my mind. Even commented to The Hubs very recently that I needed to settle on a pie recipe to prepare to celebrate this hallowed date. But then life went on and now all of a sudden, BAM! It’s noon-thirty on the very day, and I have no recipe, no ingredients, no plan.

I didn’t even decorate.

I’m so ashamed.

What I DO have, however, is the COOLEST pie plate that my girl, Kim, gave to me this last Christmas. She found a pie plate…get this…with the Pi symbol on it! She even included an adorable little apron, so I can look all Suzy-Homemaker-Chic as I prepare this year’s annual pie failure. Put the two things together and that equals just about the most creative and hella cool gift, like, ever.

Thanks, again, K. Fist bumps, Oklahoma.

Anyway, I’m off to the grocery store to gather ingredients for a proper Pi Day celebration, and rest assured, I’ll post pics of the adorable Pi/Pie plate, the tres chic apron, and the monstrosity that I create (despite the fabulous Pi Day accessories) later.

If nothing else, what I lack in baking skills, I make up for with nerd points and unbridled enthusiasm. That’s gotta get me somethin’, I figure.

bullies suck.

And one 5th-grade bully in particular doesn’t know how lucky he is tonight that it’s socially frowned upon (not to mention highly illegal) for angry moms to march out onto playgrounds and teach other people’s mean bully sucky kids some manners.

Well, the teaching of manners may not be illegal, but layin’ the smack-down on ‘em would be.

He’s a lucky little bully indeed.

And he’s full right up to the top with suck.

That’s all.

and i quote…

“Sesame seeds taste like failure.”

—Kyle Nelson, 10, on his disappointingly garnished pizza pocket at school that day.

I swear, I couldn’t make this stuff up.

really, kyle? really?

The kids’ book club order came in today, and Seanie’s book this time around just so happened to come with an amulet on a chain. (It chaps my hide how the Scholastic Book Club will frequently market their books by including some crappy “free” toy along with the book, then jack up the price of the puny little paperback. 10 times out of 10, at least one of the Nelson kids just has to have the stinkin’ book that comes with the toy. For God’s sake, these are BOOKS we’re buyin’, people, not Happy Meals.)

But I digress. Back to the book order.

As they were oohing and aahing over their newly acquired book-order-fun-time paraphenalia, they decided that Sean’s amulet had hypnotic powers. So they tested it on each other. Hmmm. Didn’t work on minors. They must be immune to hypnosis.

So they tested it on me.

Sean, swinging the hypnotic device back and forth: “Mommy, you are getting very sleeeeeepy…”
Me: “mmm-hmmm”
Sean: “You will do whaaaaateverrr I saaaaaay…”
Me (playing along and sounding very sleeeeepy): “mmm-hmmm”
Sean: “Oink like a pig…”

Kyle (interrupting): “No, Sean! That won’t work! Have her do something she wouldn’t normally do!”

Me:

Yeah. I’m not going to type out what I said in response to that. I don’t want it in writing.

Suffice it to say that much of what I muttered couldn’t be heard over the din of cackling Nelson offspring.

They’re so lucky I love them.

And the fact that I polished off a Pop Tart as I wrote this blog entry? Has no bearing on the fact that my children are monsters and I don’t get no respect.

None.

Oink.

payin’ it forward

I recently signed on for a very cool little project on Jenn Olson’s blog. Here’s the stuff.

At three random times during the year, I will receive a little hand-made something from Jenn. Just for fun. Just for the sake of handmade goodness. And for injecting a little bit of joy into my day, don’tcha know.

Sounds good so far, yes? Wouldn’t you like the chance to receive random fun-mail full of handmade goodness and joy three times during the coming year?

Well, you CAN. And it won’t even cost you 19.95 to do it.

No, all you have to do to receive your very own handmade goodness is be one of the first three people to comment on this blog entry agreeing to take part in the project, and I will lovingly craft some little bauble not one, not two, but THREE times during the coming year, and gift you with it. All random and joyful like.

See? That’s how I’m paying it forward for Jenn’s hand-made goodness that’s coming my way.

BUT. Should you agree to take part in my gifts of hand-made goodness, you also agree to pay it forward for three more people by creating and gifting handmade goodness of your own.

Now then. I don’t have a vast audience of g-blog readers. (Although I love the audience I do have! Hi, my Nelsons!) And see, my Nelsons aren’t big crafters. I don’t really expect for them to jump onto this little project of mine. (Although, you guys know I’d LOVE it if you did! I just won’t hold my breath. No pressure. Swear.) So I guess I’m looking to my lurkers to help me pay it forward.

Do I even have lurkers?

I don’t know. I don’t have the interwebs know-how or whirly-gig gizmo application to figure out how many people breeze by my blog without leaving comments. That’s probably a good thing. Ignorance is bliss. Without that knowledge, I can pretend I’m important and interesting enough to have my very own lurkers.

But here I go risking my bliss and putting myself out there.

If you’ve lurked before and never commented, and you think this sounds like something you’d enjoy doing, take a moment and say howdy and sign up for the project. (Or, if you’re a Nelson who’s gotten a wild hair to craft stuff and some valuable extra time in which to do it, jump on in. You are wholeheartedly welcome.)

Then sit back and let the warm fuzzy joy of receiving and gifting handmade goodies overtake you.

Don’t leave me hangin’ here, people.

i like free stuff.

Especially when it’s free stuff being offered by the insanely talented Jessica Sprague. And Jessica says that if I post a link to my favorite photo I’ve ever taken on her blog, I could win free tuition to one of her online classes.

She doesn’t have to tell me twice.

Here it is. My favorite photo. It’s the one that’s serves as the wallpaper on my phone. Technically speaking, I know it’s not the greatest. But mommily speaking? It does my heart good.

These.
Kids.
Are.
CUTE.

Go ahead. Argue with me.

Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.