My Helicopter Crashed and Burned

The end of the helicopter Mom

I don't think of myself as a "helicopter" Mom. I mostly see the office staff of my children's school when I am bringing in forgotten violas and lunch money.  I am a relative unknown at the school my children attend, which is why I became PB Elementary's enemy #1 yesterday.


I created a lot of drama after I was seen watching my son's recess from the hill above the playground. I learned today from another parent that due to someone "watching recess", the school officials had all of the kids go in early, and called the 5-0. Sigh.


My young son has been having the usual trouble kids have at school where there is one kid they really don't want to play with, who in turn tortures them so that he can continue to participate with them in some way. This has turned into a game of one sided tag, where the one kid is constantly the chaser, and my son and his friends are the ones who are chased. I suspect this boy does not want to chase them instead of play, and I know my son is tired of being chased. It's a sad situation, and I think it is becoming routine. I don't think continuing is kind behavior on the part of my son, but I also am not certain that he feels he has any choice. So.....


I sat on the grassy hill at the park above the playground yesterday to catch a little of post-lunch recess. It SEEMED harmless enough, and it was a nice day.


Failure # 1: I did not inform the school that I planned to do this. I didn't tell them because I thought it was embarrassing to be helicoptering about in such a manner. Had I know I would cause this level of trouble to them, and heightened embarrassment to myself in the long run, I would have.


I watched as the kids ran out, and searched for a kid with untied shoe laces, pants that are just a tiny bit too short (and unzipped) and no jacket to run by. Sadly, there were many who fit this description. How in the world would I be able to tell what was going on way up here?


Failure # 2:  As I gathered my sunglasses to head out the door, I ran across my son's binoculars. Yes, I brought them. I'm no spring chicken, and besides, I'm thorough.


I finally spied my golden boy, locked in a bear hug from behind by the chaser. Because I had binoculars, I could see that he was not enjoying this bit of play and was trying to get away. He squirmed away and said something to the chaser. I was hoping he was telling him what I had suggested, which was to stop chasing him, that he didn't want to play that game, etc. However, with no audio....I had to guess. The kid went elsewhere though, so I felt there might be some success.


Then, as I suspected... the worst of the worst happened (not the the Police, although I am sure they were being alerted about now).  I saw my son's buddy approach the chaser, who was hanging on his own behind a play structure, and talk to him.  My son walked up about then. The friend talked to the chaser a little more and then turned and ran.  And so did my son. The chaser, of course, chased. My boy and buddy were egging it on!! (The golden boy told me later that he had asked the chaser if he liked to chase them, and the chaser nodded. Hmmm. I am doubting he does.) I leaned back against the tree in disappointment.

Failure # 3:  When leaning against the tree, I stuck the back of my hair into a gob of tree sap. Unlike my pride, it is still there today.

I thought the recess seemed like it ended quickly, but since I don't spend a lot of time at school, I had no idea of the time frame. To my horror, I learned today that because of me, and the playground monitors watchful eyes, my actions made the playground monitors nervous, and thus made the kids go in early. The school called the Po-po. And put the teachers on alert. Just because of little ol' me. And my binoculars.


To say I am mortified would be an understatement. I had to call the Principal and tell on myself today. He was very nice about the whole thing, and had suspected it was someone's crazy Mom.  He didn't say crazy, but was surely thinking it. As I explained my reasoning for scaring their staff half to death, my grand plan sounded sillier and sillier to my own ears.


The FAA called, and I think my helicopter has been grounded.

A Fixer Upper



Like you care, but...

 I burned up my favorite non stick skillet several months ago when I was paying attention to several things besides the skillet. It is the skillet that gets used the most, the one with a handle on both sides which cooks up excellent tortillas among almost everything else. It was a spendy little item, which added to the tragedy.

The skillet now has a dulled interior and some kind of crud that does not seem to scrub off for love or money. I have washed the skillet 20 times, trying to repair or revert it back to its original condition to no avail. It looks weird. Food sticks to it. It just doesn't have the "Joie de Vive" that it used to. Its a sad skillet. Disfigured. I was thinking of giving up, but I am no quitter.

Tonight, (instead of making the pies I am supposed to be making) I researched how to repair a skillet such as mine and I learned that I am not alone in this world. Skillet burner-uppers are everywhere and had tried many of the methods I had exhausted.  There was a laundry list of new ideas from baking soda to toothpaste offered. I created my own concoction of cleaning agents into a paste and worried only slightly about the chemical reaction that was occurring in the pan my delicate lady hands were in. Not to worry, at least it is close to Halloween.

just kidding..


As I scrubbed the dickens out of my favorite pan, I thought about all of the things in my life that I wish I could fix with a simple(?) concoction and a lot of elbow grease. I really wish some things could return to their original and better functioning state. I gain a lot of satisfaction when I think things are as they should be.

Sadly, most of the things going on in the world are even more complicated and stubborn to solve than my pan funk.

So...I guess I am off to make pies.

Either/Either, Neither/Neither...Lets Call the Whole Thing Off


  

Cripes, this is someone's grandma...



And this is probably her granddaughter..
http://www.michellemalkin.com/

 (Disclaimer: My apologies for the snarky running post yesterday; I think I was the victim of a caffeine and Excedrin overdose. I am much better today and while the RP talk will still make me squint, The Onion loves all of those crazy skinny runner types too, even if she struggles to understand why they do not prefer to do something more sedentary with their time, like reading magazines.)


And speaking of world peace, I want to talk with you all today about politics {{cue scary music here}}.  Every morning on my GMA there are a barrage of Tea Party-ers vs Obama hopers duking it out over who has it Right...er, or Left. One gentleman, (whose name I did not catch since I was blow drying during intros) said somewhat correctly that while he "may be drinking the Kool-aid, my opponent has been drinking too much TEA."  I yelled out an "AMEN BROTHER!", which made the kids come running. This guy, who may or may not be worth a plug nickel as a candidate has at least this sentiment correct.


We do have too many Kool aid stands and tea parties going on. Where can we get some nice, clean water without added bullshit? Moderates, I know we are all busy with out own mostly dull lives and staging a revolt isn't really our style, but I think it is partially our fault that politics have swung so far out of reason for.....ever.


During my lifetime, Republican administrations have problems with credibility (Iran/Contra, WMD's among many). During Democratic administrations we have also had problems (Lewinskygate, Obamacare, among many).  Both can be blamed for mistakes made that led to or further complicated the economic meltdown of late. The flaming liberals are jumping up and down on top of their hybrid mini vans, yelling about change. The Republicans are tightening their navy blue blazers and scoffing how things are going to damn well "change" around here in November as well. Meanwhile, Moderates (myself included) are thinking "This is a train wreck. Obamacare seems to have a boatload of problems, but the Tea Party Nazi's are freaking me out". And then we shrug and get on with our day.


In my own lovely, but highly Republican state, a DEMOCRAT as Governor is wildly well liked...I think because he is a moderate, as well as being really funny. He has been touted as being a Democratic Republican, but I truly believe his success as Governor came because he was a middle of the road guy, and was able to make magic on both sides.  Most of the time, both sides were happy with some issues and annoyed with him over others, which I believe to be a true measure of success as a leader. No one was getting their way all of the time with that fella. We have a more moderate Republican on deck for Nov., and I hope he can show the grace and calm of our current guy. We will miss you Gov. Dave.


Many of the Tea Party movement and Liberal Left would choke on their tea/medical marijuana if they knew their congress members were duking it out over bills on the floor, and then attending events with their pals from across the aisle in their spare time. 


So, get to work Moderates! In order to stop having a 4-8 year pendulum swing from the highly Democratic administration to the highly Republican administration (moderates feeling the blade each time it crosses from one side to the other..) we need to speak up and share the moderate view that holds places in both the right and left, and sometimes..NEITHER. Perhaps we could have our own parties, block party style, with a tag line that would apply to both the Radical Right and Liberal Left that said "Don't be Ridiculous!".


Megan McCain is not my hero in the least, but she made a bit of a splash on the heels of her Dad's crash and burn election (Palin = mistake) to point out that youth in America can't get on board with being Republican when people like Glenn Beck and Ann Coulter are the faces of the GOP. America's young people are a more relaxed about what "traditional values" mean and can't always jibe with the radical right that is the noisiest portion of the GOP. In the same vein, the radical left isn't really where they fit either, likening GOP to Nazi's and such. So, guess what? They aren't getting involved AT ALL. Politics? Learning about the issues? No thanks.


Rise up Moderates, and throw soccer balls at all of the candidates. If you aren't voting, START. That's an easy fix!! Consider becoming a candidate yourself in your local town to at least gain some balance in debates and give voters some reasonable goals to hold on to. Moderates are the largest group, with the smallest voice. Do you really want this guy speaking for you...on either side? Or this lady? SEROSLY??


 Credit tohttp://www.voxygen.net/



http://www.vetranstoday.com/

My Running Program

  Ugh. The new trend of runners are taking over the Starbucks, (particularly on Saturdays, and who exercises on the weekends?) taking up all of the space and chairs with their sweaty, healthy bodies. They talk loudly about (you guessed it) their "running program", shin splints and the 5k/half marathon/marathon they are training for while syncing their giant path mapping watches on their skinny wrists.

It isn't just coffee; everywhere i go lately, people are yapping it about their "running program". I hear it in on Facebook, in airports, lunch restaurants, soccer tournaments, and probably even in church, if I ever went to one (correction: I did hear it at a funeral, check!). They do/don't/love/hate running on treadmills/outside, and sometimes travel in running pairs, like animals loading the arc. Serious RP's are wearing some kind of gel packs around their waist which is just a little weird.

The sudden fascination with running is getting on my last NON running nerve.

So...I have a new running program. Whenever I hear someone say the words "running program", I am going to run as fast as i can in the other direction with my hands over my ears, saying "LALALALALALA..." I am sure those on a running program will discuss my form, and how I will end up with shin splints if I continue to run that way.

I tried an RP once, called the Couch to 5K program, since I like to try new trends myself. I rocked the couch portion, but the 5k part never quite took off...

Ode to the Cassoulet

Here "she" is.

I know this is commonly called a "Dutch Oven", but the jokes those two words inspire in my household have caused me to lean to the lovely french version of "Cassoulet" (actually a recipe, but..). I sometimes pretend to smoke long cigarettes a'la Cruella DeVille when I say Cassou-laaaay. Cassssouuuuulaaaayyyyy.....((blowing smoke rings)). The company, La Creuset technically calls it a "French Oven", so there. The Dutch think they know, but they have no idea. 

I love this piece of cookware, and am only now unashamed of its ridiculous price. After longing after one in a cooking store, my family surprised me with my very own. It is a rustic red, further lending to my French accent. It is heavy as a ox. The handles will burn your hands off. It is not dishwasher safe. If you drop the lid, it will chip out the flooring. However, this is the most perfect pot I have ever owned. It should really have a name of it's own. I will work on it. Nothing chipper, for this is a serious pot. Suggestions welcome.. 

I recently used it to make sweet roll dough  Recipe here, something I had never considered before. It was perfect, since I could do everything in the deep sided pot, and then put the 100 lb lid on to let the dough rise. 

I should let you in on a secret that makes me love the pot even more...I am a crock pot failure. A FAILURE, I tell you. I have been watched, coached, gifted with a new crock pot, and consoled when my supposedly effortless dinner turned out looking and tasting like a grey football. And I can cook! Just, apparently...not in a crock pot. But the cassoulet (yep, still calling it that...) is a miracle worker. The meat is tender, the flavor is ridiculous. And I only have a back injury and some burned hands from lifting it out of the oven.

I made a corned beef that was too awesome looking to eat...almost. Don't tell the Irish I used a French pot.


Here are a few recipes in case you own a D.O./Cassoulet. Please to enjoy. I am all about those short ribs as soon as I lay hands on some.


No knead bread

Short Ribs Provencale

"Rosemary-ing"

I am like a child when it comes to making excuses to do things I think are mundane. I swear, I would clean my andirons right now to avoid a specific project that needs me (and I need it!), if only I had a fireplace.
In case you HAVE andirons...


Others would push on through and get it done, but oh no...not me. I will instead do a little thing my Mom calls "Rosemary-ing", after a dear friend. I will start one project, then see something shiny that draws me to another project I have needed to consider for oh, about a year. Then, a butterfly will fly by and I will leave the second project to address something on the third.  I will walk past project #1, en route to get a hammer and some duct tape for project #3 and stop for a moment to consider an aspect of #1 again.  Sometimes I will stop and tinker with it, and then think "I had better put something out for dinner..".


I know what you are thinking. Yes, I do. You are seeing my mini projects all over the house, and wondering if my house really looks like the photo of hoarding I posted on an earlier entry to the blog. It doesn't. I will efficiently finish the projects, even late into the night. But only to avoid the thing I really ought to be doing. That can wait until tomorrow. Sigh.

Take my dog..please.

This dog for sale. While sweet natured and not a barker....this dog will eat ball bearings if she thinks they might be food. We have recovered:


  - the entire contents of my purse, including TWO packs of gum
  - tea bags
  - toothpaste from weekend bags
 - evidence from the case of the missing birthday cookies (plastic bag, NO cookies left)
 - my smartly wrapped Christmas gift (formerly under the tree)...in the snow. Good thing for the bright bow.
 - a house guest's lotion, stolen from her purse during a card game
 - customers Girl Scout Cookies (luckily they were for family)
 - My own ill fated box of Samoas
(The list could go on, but you get the idea.)


We think the pilfering stems from a failed post knee surgery diet, and a week of "fat camp" at my mother in law's house. Since then, if it isn't nailed down and even MIGHT be food, all bets are off. I know, I know some of you are worrying about this naughty dog's intake of both chocolate, xylitol and possibly diamonds, but I assure you, after an entire box of Samoas...she merely napped. Two packs of gum, not even a twitch. I was sort of hoping for death.


The latest victims were TWO print cartridges that I planned to return to the office supply store since I no longer have a printer which uses them.  At around $25 each, I was a little stoked at the idea of cash that seemed to come from nowhere, which could only be spent frivolously.


But, noooooo. Bad dog! baddogbaddogbaddogbaddog. I think she felt bad in this photo, in the Wal-mart parking lot, amidst the cardboard packaging pieces. And she was still hungry.