Yesterday Eddie came out of the bathroom with his pants hiked up to his armpits. I wanted to tell him he looked like Steve Urkel but I didn't because 1) I'm not sure he would know who that is and b) I wasn't sure if he was playing around or being serious. It's one thing to ridicule your own kid, but it's another thing to do so to someone else's.
He quickly put my concerns to rest by laughing hysterically and exclaiming, "this sure is uncomfortable!" He then proceeded to quiz me on the location of his waist. According to him his friends say it's above your belly button but he thinks it's right below. I told him I didn't know because mine had disappeared years ago but as far as I concerned it could be anywhere you wanted it to be.
I surmised he was trying to figure out how his pants should ride so I told him that traditionally women wore their pants up to their waist and men below. (Of course that doesn't help if you don't know where your waist is.) I will admit though that my traditional thoughts are years out of date seeing as how most women's pants these days are what I call "low-riders" ie they are made to sit well below the belly button.
Hmph! I guess I can officially be called an old woman because I despise these low-rider pants. My dislike comes from two different stances - those pants on me and those pants on others.
Let's talk about others first. To me the only thing worse than seeing a woman's butt crack is seeing a man's, but both are pretty unappealing. Also, seeing skin about the waist line is equally unappealing in about 90% of women. There's always those stick thin people who look ok but the rest have what is commonly known as a muffin top. Whether they are clothed or bare, muffin tops are not attractive ... period.
I know many women will claim that pants are uncomfortable if they fit tight around the waist. And I agree. But, for me the answer isn't to go to low riders, it's to go up a waist size .... something most women would rather chew off their own arm than do.
So here we are with stance two, why low-riders don't work for me. Over the years I've developed the dreaded apple-shaped figure. Yes, I'm round in the middle. If I wear pants that sit below my waist, as the day goes on, they slide further and further down the bottom side of the apple. I'm constantly hiking them up and frankly live in fear that at some point they're just going to fall down around my ankles.
That is not a sight anyone needs to witness. Ever.
Now I guess you're wondering if I shared all this with Eddie. The answer is no - not because it would be inappropriate or anything but mainly because I never know when conversations I have with Eddie are going to turn around and (excuse the expression) bite me in the butt later. I can see it now - Eddie's mom gets a note from his teacher wanting to know why Eddie is referring to her muffin top and telling her she's wearing the wrong size pants. I can promise you this, when questioned about it he will promptly throw me under the bus and say, "Mrs. Sherri said it!"
Besides, I don't really think he cares one iota about my pants or girls pants, he's just trying to figure out guys pants. Obviously he's been thinking about this because he told me he preferred wearing jeans to his uniform pants because they feel better in the stride (yes, he actually used the term stride). Anyway, I think I see where this is going ... eventually he's going to want to venture into the realm of wearing his pants below his butt-cheeks, a terrible, horrible fad that won't go away. I know his mother well enough that it won't fly in her house but that's not to say he won't at least try to push that button. And if he does, good friend that I am, I will probably sit back and snicker ... because, yes I've already gone down that road! I can give her hope though, that they will all live through it and it will be one of those things that years later she can look back on and laugh ... and the rebellious child will exclaim, "what was I thinking?"
Now if only all the females out there with their muffin tops and butt-cracks will ask themselves the same thing ... now!
Did everyone have a nice Thanksgiving holiday? For a brief time I was afraid we wouldn't due to our stove pooping out on us. Actually it "poofed" not pooped as the heating element went out in flames in the process of cooking a pork roast a week before the holiday. But as luck would have it, we got a screaming good deal at BrandsMart and
my new stove came just in time for Thanksgiving and having the boys home.
I have cooked on the same old range for over twenty years and things have changed. This baby has a smooth flat top instead of the old coil burners that I'm used to and it has a convection oven which I haven't a clue how to use. But, once I get the hang of it and stop feeling intimidated by it I think I'm going to like it.
Eddie came straight in today and said, "oh look, a new stove. I like it. But it doesn't fit right, it sits lower than the old one."
Sigh. He's right but really, who points that out?
I swear he's not an eleven (yes, he just had a birthday), year old boy. He's an eighty-five year old woman without a mouth filter. Gotta love him!
In other news, we managed to have a lovely Thanksgiving meal despite the fact that I forgot to set the rolls out to rise until about two hours before the dinner hour. They turned out quite small but were still good and for the first time in ages the bottoms weren't burned. Yay new oven!
Also, I totally forgot to fix the mashed potatoes (but I don't think we really missed them). On the plus side, I fixed a new corn dish was which was quite delish albeit a bit spicy due to the red pepper flakes. We also had green beans, carrots, cranberry sauce, dressing (that's the Southern variation of stuffing for the uninformed), and of course the obligatory turkey.
Speaking of turkey, the only almost real disaster we had involved the turkey. Have I ever mentioned that our sweet kitty loves, absolutely LOVES turkey? Once the bird came out of the oven she started stalking it and I had to keep one eye on her and the other on the task at hand. Of course it was inevitable that at some point my eyes had to close. Who could have predicted she would try to swoop in and catch her prey ... right as we paused to PRAY? Yep! Right in the midst of our blessing I heard a sound and peeped just in time to see her springing onto the buffet. I sprang into action, swooshed her up, and carted her off ... my guys all tried not to giggle and my mother-in-law never noticed a thing. Thank goodness.
The cat was banned to a bedroom as we ate our meal. She kept pawing at the door in a frantic attempt to escape and continue on her quest for turkey. Finally my husband took pity on her. It was after all, Thanksgiving, a time for feasting and sharing time with loved ones. He fixed her her very own plate of turkey which she quickly gobbled down. Yes, I said gobbled. We are talking turkey day ya know.
After our meal my boys gave me the bestest present ever. They joined me in the kitchen for cleanup. I'm so proud of my big strapping young men who don't mind helping mom do the dishes. They're going to make excellent husbands some day. Girls take note.
Cleanup was followed by relaxation time in the living room. As is written in the book of American traditions we had the tv turned to football. I also spent some time picking my mother-in-laws brain for family facts, it's time to start adding details to the Frazier line on the family tree. One day my kids are going to thank me for tracing their roots meanwhile let them thank me for dessert. We had two - pies - apple crisp and pumpkin. And just so no one thinks I'm out to earn the Betty Crocker award ... I can't take credit for the pies. Alas, they weren't homemade but fresh from Marie Callender and Kroger. Everyone claimed they were good but I can't say for sure 'cause I don't do sweets. I know, hard to believe, huh?
All-in-all it was a nice day of family time. Even if I had foregone all the cooking and fretting over getting things just right, we would have still had a good day because we were together as a family. Now that the boys are moving out and moving on I don't know what the future holds for future holidays. Maybe that's why I want the holiday to be perfect ... so they'll always want to come home to Mom's. Time will tell.
Speaking of time, now it's time to put Thanksgiving away
Anyone who shares their home with a cat knows exactly who the boss is. They also know, no matter how hard they try to change the situation, in the end, it is usually the CAT who comes out on top.
I pulled out the Thanksgiving tablecloth yesterday and guess who promptly decided she needed to get on the table?
I'm not going to lie and act like this never happens because it does ... but only at the kitchen table. Now that it's just me and Dale eating at home we allow the puddy-cat to eat dinner with us. Sometimes she gets her own plate but mostly we just hand her bits of food. I know most people think this is gross but as long as she stays at her end of the able and doesn't get near my food, we're good.
We only use the dining room table when guests are over or when it's a holiday. Obviously these are times when a cat should NOT be getting on the table so I've been pretty diligent about keeping her away from it. For the most she behaves herself and refrains from getting up there ... that is until a cloth is put on the table and then the battle begins.
"Excuse me. Are you talking to me?" What do you mean get OFF the table?"
"Oh girl please. Talk to the paw, I'm not listening!"
"That is all, you have been dismissed. Carry on."
Ugh! Little buggar. It's a good thing I love her so much otherwise she'd be toast. Meanwhile, I ask you this. What is it about a tablecloth that attracts her so much? It's like a kitty magnet. Lucky for her I have two of the same cloths and when it comes time to eat our Thanksgiving feast I'll switch them out.
I've misplaced something very important and have spent the better part of the day looking for it. I know it's here somewhere, I just don't know where.
During my search I was going through a box of childhood keepsakes. Suddenly my mission changed from one of search and rescue to one of, "hey, look! This would make great blog material." Isn't it amazing how quickly I can switch gears and immediately find myself immersed in a new project?
Without further ado, I present to you photos of a young artist's earlier works.
I believe we have a rainbow and perhaps a self portrait? Big eyes?
I have no idea the dates on any of the drawings. My mother had the foresight to save them but failed to date anything. I guess that's what happens when you're the third child.
I think I was combining two seasons here. Note the colorful leaves on the half bare trees - a sign of Autumn? I'm pretty sure the other "things" depict the flowers of Spring, though I guess they could be lollipops. But, the grass is green, so I vote for Spring. Note the yellowing, brittle scotch tape in the bottom right corner. This is obviously before my "scrapbook" phase where I learned all about archival safe products.
Next we have a house, one that obviously needs some reconstruction.
When you were a kid did you always draw a chimney on your houses? I did and ironically I never lived in a house with a fireplace and chimney until I was grown and living on my own. I think it comes from knowing that's how Santa is supposed to enter our houses.
This picture was drawn specifically for my mother. Even at a young age I seemed to know what all mom's are good for is their ability to provide transportation for their children. I don't think I have ever ridden in a taxi so I'm not sure where this came from. It's a joy to see the happy sun (why do kids think the sun has a face? Don't they know it's only the moon that has one?), my patriotic offering (note the stripes are going the wrong way on the flag), and the lovely flower which might be a tulip or it might be one of those scary Venus-flytrap plants. Yikes!
My guess is this one was probably done around Thanksgiving. Sadly today it would probably be considered politically incorrect to depict an Indian and a teepee. You can't tell from this scan but I cut out the opening to the teepee. Wasn't I oh, so creative? As for the Indian, those are some seriously scary hands he has. Perhaps I was channeling the future Edward Scissorhands or maybe it's the forerunner of Freddy Kruegar?
Another seasonal drawing. This one is all about Autumn. I can't decide if those are leaves on the branches? Or maybe squirrels with colorful hats. I do know that's one big bird next to the person. And, look at those bird legs! I love the colorful cap on the person and note that there's just a faint smile ... probably 'cause he's missing a finger on both hands and apparently has no feet.
Don't you just love the way a child pays so much attention to some details but is totally oblivious to others?
... details like in this drawing where only one of the train cars actually has wheels. I guess the little engine that could is capable of dragging all the other cars along. Of course they don't have far to go because it looks like the tracks are abruptly ending. Only in a child's world ...
And finally we have this
Paper, paint, crayon, tape, fabric and buttons. I wonder if my mother had a clue back then that she was raising a future mixed media artist? Whether or not she did, she always encouraged and supported my artistic endeavors and for that I will always be grateful. I'm also willing to forgive her for throwing away a whole semester of work from my life drawing class when she moved away from my childhood home.
For the record, I don't actually remember her disposing of my portfolio. She just recently reminded me of it and according to her I wasn't so much upset about losing the drawings as I was horrified that she put stacks of nude drawings out on the street!
I grew up with my mom popping a roast in the oven before leaving for church, resulting in a yummy Sunday dinner. It was a tradition that I tried to emulate but wasn't very successful at - mainly because I don't like cooking on Sunday. I consider it my day of rest and we usually go out to eat. However, any other day of the week I do love to prepare and serve a good pot roast.
I think I've mentioned before that I don't cook it the way most folks do. I season it with garlic, salt, and pepper, add a little water to the pot and slow cook it in the oven for a couple of hours. That's it, nothing more. A roast cooked with potatoes, carrots, and onions, all in the same pot .... yuck! I do NOT like mixing all those flavors together, not to mention I'm just not a fan of carrots. My husband on the other hand grew up eating it that way so I've learned to compromise.
I cook potatoes, carrots, and onions but in a separate dish, seasoned with beef bouillon. He hasn't complained yet so I guess it's okay (honey if you're reading this, NOW is the time to speak up if you DON'T like it cooked this way. However it you don't want me to continue to cook it this way I don't know what I'ma gonna do 'cause no way am I ruining a great roast with vegetables!)
I also figure while I'm selfishly preparing meals my way I might as well cook a pot of rice. (Am I the only one who grew eating rice and gravy with their roast?) There's also the obligatory green beans and sometimes corn, to add a little color to palette. Yum! Comfort food at it's best.
I don't cook a roast often - have you seen the price of beef today? It seems a bit of an extravagance especially when I'm only cooking for two. Every once in awhile though the desire for comfort food wins out over being thrifty and a pot roast finds itself on menu. Yesterday was that day.
Yep, last night we had roast for dinner. And it was oh. so. good. It was all I could do to refrain from gorging myself. I behaved though and didn't go back for seconds. I'm really trying to cut back on what and how much I eat but it's been a struggle and having something that tastes so good, that also soothes the soul, (which is what comfort food does for me) ... makes it doubly hard to maintain will power.
I was actually doing ok up until I began clearing away the dishes. There was quite a bit of food left over so I fixed a dish for tomorrow's lunch and then there it was ... the leftover gravy ... calling my name. I knew I should quickly toss it in the trash but instead I began to rationalize in my head - if I don't do something to curb this craving right now I'm going to be thinking about it all night long. If I'm thinking about it all night long, one of two things might happen. I might end up eating a snack later on or worse yet, I might get up in the middle of the night and EAT the leftovers. Oh my, what's a girl to do?
I did the only thing a sane (read - unable to maintain will-power) person would do. I took a slice of bread, tore it into little bite size pieces, dipped it in the gravy and savored every morsel of it's goodness. It wasn't without guilt however. I felt guilty about giving into my desires and even worse I felt guilty that I was trying to hide from my husband that his beloved wife was in the kitchen pigging out. Hiding it wasn't easy because he kept coming back into the kitchen. I wanted to scream at him, "get out! Can't you tell your wife is in here being gluttonous?"
Finally he settled down to watch TV and I was able to continue scarfing down my bread and gravy. I finished loading the dishwasher, and wiped down the stove and countertops. As I made my way to join him in the living room, I was careful to wipe any incriminating evidence from my face because nothing will get one busted faster than a glob of gravy in the corner of your mouth. I was content. My belly was full, my cravings abated, and as far as I know, my hubby was none the wiser.
I'm ashamed to admit I woke up this morning thinking ... not about my deceit from the night before ... but about the leftovers in the 'fridge. I was almost giddy with excitement, couldn't wait for lunchtime to roll around. Finally around eleven I said, "to heck with it, I'm eating early!" I popped the container of leftover roast, rice, and gravy into the microwave and watched the seconds tick away.
Yum it smelled soooo good. The cat thought so too. She ran and took up her stalking position, in anticipation of getting a handout. Yes, I feed my cat table food. It's probably why she's such a picky eater and I end up tossing more cat food than she actually eats.
Beep, beep, beep. It's ready! I sat down and began to eat. It was still a little cold so back to the microwave it went. Beep, beep, beep. Let's try again. Ah, yes. Just the right temperature. Let's eat!
I guess you're expecting to read now, about how yummy my lunch was, and how stuffed and satisfied I am. Alas, it's not to be. Surprise! About half way through lunch I began to think about it. You know what? Leftovers aren't nearly as good as originals.
What? Leftovers aren't nearly as good as originals? What you talkin' 'bout Willis? Last night it was delicious but today it's not?
Well, here's the thing ... it tasted ok but it wasn't making my tastebuds sing like it did last night. In fact, it was kind of blah. My husband refuses to eat leftovers. Maybe this is why.
So ... the second time around just isn't as good as the first which turns out to not be such a bad thing because I didn't even finish my leftover meal (and for the record neither did the cat).
Bonus? Maybe a lighter lunch will make up for the gluttony of the night before. That's what I'm telling myself anyway. I'm also inspired to not cook such a great meal again tonight. No need to set myself up for failure two days in a row. Look out honey, we're eating light tonight!
And finally I leave you with this photo which has nothing to do with the topic of today's blog. I don't like posting without at least one photo so this is what I came up with.
Fall is my favorite time of the year and it's partly because of all the beautiful fall foliage. Sadly the color this year is not as vivid as in past years. I guess it's because of how dry it's been. A lot of the trees had their leaves turn brown and fall off prematurely. Others just sported more muted colors this time around. I spotted this little gem in my neighbors yard today and thought he deserved to be photographed.