The Latest Project

Before 


After 

The bathroom is finally done!! Well, almost done. Floor molding still needs to be put in and my husband is insisting on crown molding. I think it looks sooo nice now!

And as you can see, the munchkin is sitting up all on her own now!

Salseado

Our Dinner Out 

There's a new Spanish restaurant up the street from where we live. My husband and I took a friend of ours to test it out. I have to say that I didn't walk away stunned with great awe and adoration for the place.

The food was really good, but getting to the point of eating it was rather comical.

My husband and I showed up a little early so we could enjoy a drink or two and an appetizer before our friend arrived.

We placed an order for a couple tapas: Gambas al Diablo (Shrimp with spicy sauce), and Grilled Steak with Poblano Peppers and Melted Cheese. Both were delicious. We also placed an order for a couple Pacifico beers. Upon further investigation, I thought it might be more fun to try a more ~what I thought~ to be a more ~Spanishy~ beer and wanted to change my order from a Pacifico to a Hatuey beer.

Not 90 seconds after we placed our original order, my husband goes to change my beer order. The waiter says, "Oh you can't change it..I've already placed it! I've already put it into the computer..."

"What? You can't change my beer order?"

"No, it's too late. But you can have a Hatuey beer for your next beer."

Mind you, the bar is not but 10 feet from the computer where the order was placed, and we still didn't get our beers for another five minutes later.

Who ever heard of not being able to change a beer order? Strange if you ask me!

We peruse the menu...

For me it was a toss up between: Solomillo Seville and Solomillo con Champi'nones.

The first being grilled steak with salseado and the latter being grilled steak with mushrooms.

So I call the waiter over and ask,

"What is salse-e-ah-do?"

"You mean salse-A-do..."

"Ok, What is salse-A-do?"

"It's like a salsa sauce salsa-ie salsa type sauce and it's on steak...a grilled steak with salsa, a salsa-ie sauce...salseado..but you might also like this one which is a grilled steak with mushrooms. You see, mushrooms...it's a steak with mushrooms on top where this one is a grilled steak with a salsa type sauce on top, so you might like this one with mushrooms on it instead too."

About all I could respond with was a simple, "Thank you."

He told me nothing the menu didn't already state. Thank.gawd.for.helpful.waiters.or...
I.might.not.ever.have.figured.out.those.dishes.

On the good side, the food was fantastic...the Pacifico was far better than the Hatuey (which we did order for our second round of beers)..and the dessert was to die for.


Mmm Mmmm Mmmmm.... 

So Much Yet So Little

I've got a couple blog entries brewing my head, but between allergies and house guests ..oh and my seven month old.. my prose is being somewhat postponed. I'm looking for time later tonight to sit and share my thoughts....

Company is due in around 530 ...so keep your fingers cross that I get some free time!

Thinking:

Dinner at LaPinta and oh.my.gawd.our.waiter.was.so.bad.

Name tags at the dining tables at the retirement home.

The American Dream

On our walk home from the market tonight, a man stops us on the railroad tracks and says to my husband,

"You've got the American Dream: a beautiful wife, a beautiful baby, a dog, and a six pack of beer..."

Don't

Don't twiddle your fingers on the counter at me when I come to your register check out because I'm not signing my credit card slip fast enough for you when there's only one person in line behind me.

And don't be surprised when I call you on your lousy attitude.

Blue

I walked to the market today to pick up some basic things to accompany dinner tonight. The cashier smiled at me as I pushed my items up onto the counter. After one quick glance at him, I say with a returned smile,

"You eat something blue?"

His lips, tongue, teeth were ~all~ blue. Looked rather silly. And I suppose I could have left it alone and not said anything, but ...well, I asked anyways.

He replied, "Oh, uh, yeah. How could you tell?"

"Your lips and tongue are all blue."

He clenched up and got all nervous.

I continue, "I bet it was good though whatever it was..."

"It was one of them slushie things...you know, the blue kind."

He stared very intensely on the buttons of the cash register and wouldn't look at me.

He said in a hushed voice, barely moving his lips, "...that's so embarrassing..."

So trying to make him feel better I assure him that that sort of thing happens to anyone who indulges in dyed goodies and that companies should rework the dyes so they don't do that to people's mouths.

I'm not sure if he felt better or worse after I said that, but he gleefully spurted out, "....~I'm a Berry Boy!!~"

I had such a hard time keeping a straight face. I wonder if he talked with clenched lips the rest of his shift or if he scrambled into the bathroom to try rinsing his mouth out.

Creeping Close...I Can Refrain No More

I.am.so.tired.

Ever just gogogogogogogogogooooo and you feel fine. Then you take one half of a brief moment to rest, and your body goes into a comatose shock realizing just how much sleep you've been losing each night, just how much energy you've been exerting that you never had to begin with, just how close to empty you're running on...

...and the tired settles in.

...and you can ignore it no more.

...and you must sleep.

...really, really sleep.

Goodnight, Internet.

Loooopppyyyy Laaaaadddyyyyy

Well, I think I've officially lost my brain. I'm a ditz...I'm admitting to it.

With the inlaws here, my husband and I were able to go out to dinner tonight. Just.the.two.of.us. It was the first time in ages that we were able to do that. Part of me didn't know what to do without always finding a new toy, a snack, something to point to in the vacinity, making strange noises, and smiling from ear to ear until my face hurt. My gawd, it meant we had to actually carry on a conversation with each other.

We were able to eat simultaneously. Strange. It felt very strange. But it was nice to be able to do that and know that our daughter was safe within the watch and care of her grandparents.

So when we were done drinking and eating until our bellies could take no more, we went for a little walk around the area.

It is on this little walk that I realized: I.am.a.ditz.

We went into a music store. My husband wanted to pick up a CD of 'old' Metallica. I dabbled through the stack of Dave Mathews Band. As the woman rang up 'Kill 'Em All', I saw on the shelf a sign that read 'Now Playing' and below it a box of CDs reading 'Credence Clearwater'. Instead of pointing to the box and sharing the fact that my parents just went to a concert of theirs, I turned and said to my husband, "Oh yeah, my parents went and saw them..." alluding to the sounds that were playing on the store's stereo. I mean, 'Now Playing' ~usually~ means that's what you're listening to in the store...right?

I was fat and happy off dinner though and didn't really pay attention to what was playing. My husband looks at me with a look of 'You.are.a.tard.' and then asks the granny running the counter, who then turns to her son who's restocking CDs and says the very same thing, "This Credence playing???"

My husband says, "It's Paul Simon...."

The son replies, "Yeah...Paul Simon..not Credence..."

Paul Simon, Credence Clearwater...is there ~really~ a difference? I felt like hiding inside the CD case of my husband's newly bought CD.

So I survived that moment and as we continued our walk, my husband, while continuing to chuckle at my mistake, decided he'd pick up a cigar for himself and his dad to smoke tonight. I straggle along and we continue chatting.

We're at the register again, and across the way not too far from where we're standing, I notice a cigar box from the side with its lid open. The side reads, 'Mint Especial'. So I ask, "Ooo a minty one~ You don't want one of those cigars?"

Again, I get the strange look from my husband. He replies, "Why would I want a minty cigar?"

"Well, the inside of the lid says because its 'full of flavor!'..."

Meanwhile, the cashier guy is trying his hardest to keep a straight face and him and my husband exchange that --I feel for you, man-- look.

I continue reading, "AND! They are sugar free!!...."

And I think to myself, How strange..a sugar free cigar? I didn't think non minty cigars had sugar in them...

And just then, I lean forward because curiosity got the best of me and I wanted to see how the cigars were wrapped...surely something that sounded so appetizing would be wrapped up in a neato wrapper...

..Only to realize, they were tins of breath mints!

Why would someone trick me and crate mints in a cigar box... oh.you.evil.trickers.of.the.world!

At that point, I sheepishly smiled and said, "I'll kindly be waiting outside..." and left the two of them inside having a good ol' laugh.

So, if by chance you find my missing brain, please mail it back to me. Thank you.

The Greatest and Worst Sounds At This Moment

Greatest:

Compressed air from the roofers' air compressor being let out demonstrating half of my neighbor's roof being completed.

Worst:

The roofers starting to redo the other side of the house's roof.

~~Please, someone, make the incessant pounding stopppppp......

Phantom Showers

My inlaws arrived last night. What better way to celebrate their earlier than expected arrival than to head to the pub for a few adult libations.

Sitting and sipping my beer, I felt a light shower of water sprinkle across my legs and arms. How strange, I thought. It was a warm, clear night so I had a hard time understanding why I felt rain on my body.

I glanced around the beer garden looking to see if a water sprinkler of sorts might have been turned on to water the plants seeing as how the sun had set and the air was cooler than the heat of the day.

Nothing seemed to be running.

I looked around the table and noticed no one else there with me was commenting on this random water.

I looked around the pub, and again, everything was as it should be.

So I sat at the table, sipping away and casually carrying on conversations with my family and admiring how my daughter was showing off her most talented skills to her Grandma--blowing spit bubbles.

And then it dawned on me.

The rain I felt was my daughter! It was the spit she was blowing from her mouth all over my legs and arms. Gross.

Kids--a never ending adventure. And hey, a beer and a shower in one...not bad.

He-boot She-boot Nonstop Re-boots

Possessed and Obsessed 

So our six month old has discovered she's got hands. And attached to each beautiful, chubby hand are five beautiful, chubby digits. She's also figured out that she's got control of all five, and that she's got two sets of them...10 dangerous digits to call her own and wreak havoc with.

Nevermind her endless assortment of toys and books and dolls and her elephantine exersaucer...all she wants to do is smack open her daddy's usb port cover and dabble with the wires and unplug his headset. And once that becomes mundane, she scrambles over to my computer and makes a b-line for my reset button. And she's successful at rebooting it too.

She then, having realized her success, scrambles back over to my husband's computer and mushes her little fingers on his reset button. She's amazingly fast, and it's not as easy to stop her as one might think from an outsider's perspective. His reset button isn't quite as sensative however, so her mad attempts are often defeated.

Thank you Dell for providing hearty reset buttons. No thanks to Microcenter for making their tower case reset buttons so darn sensative!


I Spy a Runaway Snack 

Kids today. They must be born with computer knowledge.

Not So Bad This Time

Eggplant Tempura 

Ok, so I tried eggplant again. Tempura style. I picked it up from Trader Joe's. Tasted pretty darn good. But then again, what doesn't taste good after it's been fried?

How Long Is Too Long?

An evening walk seems to be our family ritual these days. Not because it's been nice out, or because we're enjoying the mild temperatures before winter sets in, or even because we want to enjoy each other's company really. Mainly we're going for our family walks because it's what seems to mellow out the little one enough where she'll go to bed shortly after our return.

Our walks usually are held to a short radius around the block, but tonight we left a bit early. So in order to keep the timing of our evening right, we needed to walk further.

Because we walked out from our driveway to the left instead of to the right and looped around the block and walked past all the shops that my husband and I debate about daily as to whether or not they are worthy of their leasing spot and how much remodeling they need to have done (those debates take about as much wind out of your sails as it would take to read this whole runon sentence in one breath)--we ended up at the railroad tracks delayed from crossing because a train was zooming by.

(Apparently trains are my theme today.)

After we were able to cross the tracks, we were delayed again because we had to wait for the blessed 'Walk' sign to light up so we didn't get smushed by passing traffic.

So this brings me to standing on a street corner idly waiting. My options were limited as to what I could look at: the 'Dont Walk' sign, the traffic signals, and then of course I could peer into the cars around me. They were either filled with onlookers seeing if they could nose their way into the flow of oncoming traffic, irritated people who were sat glaring at the light and twiddling their fingers thinking they could make the light change faster, or people peering out of their cars to look at people who were waiting to cross the street who were peering into cars--which was me.

As I looked into this minivan of sorts that was waiting to make a right hand turn, I noticed a woman driving. A woman who took a double take of me as I took a double take of her. A woman I am pretty sure I was very very good friends with six years ago, if not best friends with at the time. A woman who taught in a classroom next to mine that I spoke to every single day for a year and many nights and weekends too.

Yet, as we each took our double takes, I found myself feeling panicked and I looked away. I found random topics to discuss with my husband and random reasons to look into the stroller at my daughter and second after second of waiting for that light to change felt longer and longer. Why.couldn't.I.just.get.my.'Walk'.signal.

I am 99.5% sure I am right in my assumption of who this woman was.

We had not had a falling out. No argument. I switched jobs. I also moved. I moved again. And again. And again. But for some reason, I could not bring myself to look up into her car and verify that it was her with a simple look or a simple "Hey...is that you....?" with a smile...no, instead I did all I could to avoid it. I even pulled out my new insurance card and inspected it. I'm surprised it didn't read, "You are being ridiculous." across the front of it.

Six years is a long time to not talk with someone. But when was the cut off? When did it go from me being willing to run up to her car, having her roll down her window and me giving her a warm hello...to me standing on the corner avoiding all posibilities of contact? What would I have done in a month's time? One year's time? Is two years the cut off? Or is it three? or four? or when?

Or is it dependent on the person? And would I have reacted differently had it been someone else? And why didn't she roll down her window and say, "Hey...is that you....?" What was her cut off time? What would she have done in a month's time? Two year's time?

And it's not about not wanting to talk to her. I have wondered many times how she's doing and what she's up to. I'm sure she's wondered the same.

A friend years ago told me one day, "You know, after awhile it's just been too long to go back..for no other reason than that."

I guess now I can say, I've been in similar shoes. But as she drove on, I looked up to watch her disappear into traffic and I wondered, 'How long is too long?'

Unaware

Some people are so unaware of their surroundings.

I was heading home today from my walk, and a woman turned the corner ahead of me so I was trailing her path. She was a mother of three, but wasn't using a stroller. Instead she had one of those wagon deals--only this version was more like a train. Each child had their own...boxcar, if you will. But then the mother added on a few boxcars of her own for storage and whatnot. The 'train' was five boxcars in length. The mother was pulling the first car with the handle attached, followed by child 1, 2, and 3, and then an end car piled full of items. It truly was a sight to see and she seemed to be managing it fine.

Not only was she the main engine of this beastly, child train, but she was also talking on her cell phone! Which means she was managing it one handed as well as carrying on a conversation.

All this was fine and dandy, until she decided to stop. She brought the train to a halt and began digging out goodies and snackies for her children and really diving deeper into her phone conversation. Nevermind my approach.

The woman stopped in the ONE place on the sidewalk where it was congested. The ONE spot where another person with or without stroller could not pass with her there. I stopped for a few moments and waited, thinking surely a woman who managed to birth three children, manage a cell phone, cookies, and crackers and all those miscellaneous items in boxcars #1 and $5 could see that I was standing behind her massive train with my own child in stroller waiting to pass.

But no. She didn't notice or she didn't care. She continued on with her dealings.

I had to finagle my stroller into the street, down off a rather obnoxiously high curb, up a few feet while cars weren't passing, and then back up the rather obnoxiously high curb, and then continue on my way.

I really felt like saying something to the rude woman...but who am I to interrupt her snack break and phone conversation.

I Tried but I Can't

Ok, so unless eggplant is breaded and deepfried and covered in sauce and melted cheese, I just can't stomach it.

It's a texture thing. Slimey and mushy...but mainly slimey.

Blurg, blurg, and triple blurg.

So I tried Eggplant Parmesan today for lunch. The cheese and sauce were scrumptious! But that gooey, slimey, mushy eggplant is a definate no-go!

It looked like gigantic hunks of mushroom, which I also don't eat...

But I'm trying to keep an open mind.

Sprinkle Splendor

I walked several blocks further today than usual. I wanted the extra exercise, but also, there was a store that was recommended to me that carries a lot of imported groceries. The British store that I buy my daughter's Farley's Rusks from is closing. The Irish store a few blocks away refuses to carry them. Stubborn Irish! ;) (I'm Irish..I know...I'm s-t-u-b-b-o-r-n.) So The Home Economist was recommended to me since they carry a lot of out-of-country and unique items.

As I walked through the doors, an elderly gentleman passed me and said very seriously but with a smile in his tone, "When she gets older...you WON'T step foot in here!!!"

Having never been in the store, I found his comment to be rather strange.

My first thought after taking a quick glance from side to side: A store made for my inner child!

There were all sorts of delicious candies and chocolates and pasteries and chips and crackers and candy coated nuts and roasted nuts and ...

...and oh goodness, an ENTIRE side of one isle devoted.to.sprinkles!

Sprinkles are one of the world's greatest creations. Sprinkles make EVERYTHING taste better. Mmm...sprinkles...sPrInKlEs...~*~*sprinkles*~*~...it truly was a beautiful sight!

They also had a lot of pastas and cheeses and a gourmet deli fridge containing homemade salads and such by the grannies working in the back.

What a fun little place. And that man was right, when my daughter gets older... no WAY am I bringing her in there!

Well, maybe when she's stuffed full of lunch, in the dead of winter where I can put layers upon layers of clothing and gloves and hats on her and stick her in the basket with moonboots on and ...really really dark sunglasses..because we all know how 'stressful' those flourescent lights can be on a child's eyes ;)...and then I'll roll her around in the basket..she'll be too bulked up to see or grab anything!

Oh wait, they only have little carry baskets.

I'm doomed!

A Cracker? Excuse me?

Things said inside the confidence of your home's walls is one thing. To speak openly in public is entirely something different.

I gave in to my food fetish today and stopped by McDonalds for lunch. I was enjoying a Bic Mac and fries...with extra pickles.

(It's essential to order something 'special' about your meal to assure freshness. I always order extra pickles for the sandwich part...still trying to figure out a sure fire way to get fresh fries though.)

As I sat there relaxing, I overheard a family chatting at a table behind me. Now I do realize that eavesdropping isn't nice, but they weren't speaking discreetly so it was a tad difficult not to hear. When people speak loudly, I assume they want those in earshot to listen. Otherwise, wouldn't they be more cautious about their volume level?

Anyways. They were loud. I listened. I couldn't avoid it.

I picked up in the coversation where they were talking about 'relatives' and one of the girls commented, "I'm not related to him by ~blood~...just by marriage!"

Then an adult said, "Yeah, your aunt married the white guy!"

The girl snickered and replied, "Yeah, right!" and continued laughing...

The adult then added, "Yeah...The CRACKER!"

I glance around the room, and realize my daughter and I are the only white people there. It wasn't packed by any means, but regardless...

I felt offended. There are a lot of derrogatory terms to use for a lot of different ethnicities, however, joking or not joking, it's disrepectful to use them. Especially if you're not in the privacy of your own home.

Before I could stop myself from getting involved, I realized I had turned around and was glaring at the man. How rude he was!

Their voices hushed after that, and when one of the other young girls went to continue, a quick "SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE!" was blurted out cutting her off to silence.

What a role model.

As I stood to leave, I caught eye contact with the adult at that table. He gave me a forlorn look, and I returned a look of non-expression. As an adult those children look to for guidance, he should prove to be someone who can mold them to become the best they can be and teach them to be accepting and open minded. This is probably the teacher in me feeling most upset, for far too often I've seen childrens' views skewed negatively by the adults in their lives.

Children are like sponges--they will soak up anything and everything around them.

Paper Bag Ugly

So I needed..I mean ~needed~ soda. At the tail end of a nice walk out with my two side kicks-baby + stroller, we headed toward the convenience mart just a few blocks from my home.

The market's doors are covered with a larger than life picture of two icy milkshake looking drinks with gobs of whipcream on top...honestly, I could have bathed in it had it been a real shake in front of me. It was huge and looked simply heavenly.

So naturally, after standing under the air conditioning vent for a few moments to cool down from the blazing sun that had been beating down on me in my black shirt (remind me again why I chose a black shirt on a HOT day...)..I headed right to the freezer to scope out the pints of ice cream. Mmmm...ice....cream. Sigh.

I was good though and just looked. I didn't even open the door of the freezer to feel the whoosh of chilled air brush against me. I figured that would just be a temptation I didn't need, not to mention it's harder to hear the ice cream whisper, "take me home...take me home..." if the door is closed.

I refocused my mental energies and strolled further to the cold beverages area.

[Can you see a theme here?...I'm reflecting heavily on the ~cold~...it's a freaking oven in my house right now.]

I grabbed some soda and (sigh) perused the candy isle. The harder I try to eat better, the worse I eat! There's a small line at the register so I took my spot for waiting.

An old gentleman turned to myself after being rung up and waved a paper bag at me. I looked at him quizzically. He wagged the bag some more, smiling and mummbling something along the lines of putting the bag on my daughter. Um.no.I.dont.think.so.

So I smiled at him and said sweetly, "She's sleeping." Truth. She was. And I must have given him that motherly look of YOU.WAKE.HER.AND.I.KILL.YOU. because he then turned to me and smushed the paper bag onto ME instead! He stuck it on the top of my head like a hat. Some.random.person.stuck.a.bag.on.my.head!

I'm thinking he was either telling me I'm 'paper bag ugly' (So ugly a paper bag over my head improves my looks...) or he was drunk.

The guy at the register thought the latter.