Greg Is A Fathead

Happy Halloween!  Ohmygosh, you've never seen such excitement in your life as all the kiddos at school this morning.  Everyone was running around and asking each other what their costumes were going to be?   You have never in your life seen more cupcakes or cookies or candy.  The weather is absolutely superb and I'll be running from room to room.  I love it!!!  I'm so glad our principal is not a downer.

I started eating normal food again over the weekend and I feel fantastic.  I cannot even begin to express how recharged my body and brain feel after the extensive juicing.  I have cut way, way, way down on my caffeine.  I have completely cut out alcohol.  I don't feel tired in the afternoons anymore.  I'm not achy.  I feel great!!!  I'm going to juice once a day now to add more fresh vegetables and fruit into my normal diet.

And you know why I'm not getting my blog done in the mornings like I used to?  Without all the caffeine, I actually sleep 9-10 hours a day!!!  Imagine that!  I require as much sleep as a 7 year old!

Greg and I watched the documentary, Fathead, this weekend.  The guy in the documentary only eats fast food for 30 days and loses 10 pounds and has his cholesterol go down.  He made the movie to counter the Super Size Me movie.

Greg loved this movie!



He was saying, "I TOLD you!"

You should have heard the commentary going on between us during that one.  OMG.  The very beginning sequence of the movie talks about how hard it was for the filmmaker to shoot footage of fat people.  He couldn't find any fat people.  It took him hours.  Good God, come stand in a buffet line in Vegas.  I'll show you fat people.

If any of you watch this, we should discuss it.  It did make some very interesting points that I actually agree with.  For one, I have never bought into the hype that eating cholesterol gives you cholesterol.  I ate 2 eggs a day for over a year and just had my blood work done a couple months ago and my cholesterol was 165.  I didn't even fast, so who knows how low it actually is?  Greg's cholesterol is under 200 and he is obese, according to his BMI.  We don't eat transfat, processed oil, and we use real butter.

So I'll give the Fathead that much.  I missed my eggs more than wine during my juice fast.

You Do Not Even Want To Know What I Google

Greg took the kids to the UNLV football game yesterday.  I've lost track of how many games they've been to this year.  I have an "opt out" option on these, so I gratefully stay behind.  They usually go with Greg and Jerry's Dad, their surrogate grandfather.

Not one to squander my free time, I juiced pomegranates for four hours.  We had a bad year for pomegranates.  The late summer rain caused the fruit to split before it was ripe, ruining almost 75 percent of our neighborhood yield.

I normally just cut them in half and juice them on my citrus juicer because the bounty is so plentiful, I'm not worried about wasting.  This year I actually dug the seeds out and sent them through my juicer so that I could get every living drop.  It was extraordinarily time-consuming.  A Mormon lady told me she uses a giant steamer and she just cuts them in half and steams the juice out of them.  I would love to get a load of that steamer.

Then I skimmed the froth off the top and poured it into big glass jars to let the pith settle before making jelly.

We are going to go raid our other neighbor's bushes today and see how many more we can get today.  The ones I got yesterday were from my neighbor, Jo.  She told me on Facebook, "Bless you, child.  Better you than me.  Sort of like childbirth.  Leave it to the young ones."

Speaking of Facebook, while the rest of you are getting Groupons for mani/pedi combinations, I get these sort of deals.

Do you suppose those are targeted by your Google searches?  How scary!!!

Mother Nature Sucks

Bob grew up on a farm in Kansas, one of eight children.  He said chickens just ran around the farm and they didn't do anything for them.  They just survived.

Pumpkin carving time with Grammy

Mine didn't.  Mine are dead.

First, the other chickens ramsacked Fabulous' nest and rolled all the unhatched eggs out.  When Bob found her nest like that the next day, the eggs were all stone cold and the developing babies died.

So we were so glad that two hatched because at least they'd have each other.

We had a big windstorm come through a few nights ago, plunging our weather.  Bob went out the next morning and that darling little brown striped baby was laying dead on the ground.  We really have no idea what happened.  Fabulous was still sitting on the other chick, so we don't think it died from the weather.

Yesterday I went over in the afternoon to feed them all and Fabulous was pinned into the caged-off area we have for our three Foster Chickens, not to be confused with Foster's Chicken.  The little black chick was nowhere to be found.  Fabulous was distraught.  She was racing back and forth and calling for the baby.  We looked everywhere and have determined the baby must have gone through the chain-linked fence in the tennis court and got eaten by Bitch, Bob's English bull terrier.

I haven't mentioned it, but Bob's daughter moved home and brought Bitch's mother with her.  Queen Bitch.  We aren't sure which dog ate the chick, but we know it was like an appetizer for those animal-killing carnivores.

You can't imagine how awesome it is for me to have to worry about being attacked by two bitches daily.

Overkill??????

So we let Mother Nature run its course and Mother Nature sucks.  I should have taken the chicks from the hen and put them in the brooder and they would still be alive.

A man's got to do what a man's got to do.

Bob and I are so disappointed.  He said he grew up with chickens and dogs and cats running all over the place and nobody died.  This stinks.

The kids told me a couple days ago that the librarian is back to lunch detentions on the stage for late library books and silent lunches again.

They still watch a movie each library day.  They watched a movie about fire.  

"Did you read any books about fire?"

"No."

Mother Nature needs to run its course on the librarian.

When The Government Goes After Local Farmers

Remember last year when I belonged to the Quail Hollow Farm CSA (community supported agriculture)?  I loved being a shareholder.  I didn't renew my shares because it was a little pricey for us, but I 100 percent support this CSA and the owners of the farm.  They are doing a fantastic job.  Their produce is top notch.  I still get it when I go to the Farmer's Market.

When we were members, we attended a couple farm breakfasts and a tomato testing.  Talk about a great way to teach the children about where food comes from.

I'm going to copy and paste from the Farm-To-Consumer Legal Defense Fund what happened to this great CSA last weekend when they tried to have a dinner for their shareholders.  It's long, but it is scary enough that I think everyone should know how the government is coming after these small farms.



Farm-to-Fork Dinner FiascoBy Laura Bledsoe | October 24, 2011
When an over-zealous regulator shows up at a farm dinner demanding that food be destroyed as hungry guests await, who do you call? Here's Laura's account written as a letter to her guests who had come to Quail Hollow Farm expecting a meal of foods harvested from local small family farms.
This incident shows the value of the 24/7 legal hotline for farmers like Laura who need help...even on a Friday night!  A member benefit like the hotline is available thanks to the financial support of the many FTCLDF members and donors.
Dearest Guests, (You have all become dear to us!)
What an evening we had this last Friday night!  It had all the makings of a really great novel: drama, suspense, anticipation, crisis, heroic efforts, villains and victors, resolution and a happy ending.
The evening was everything I had dreamed and hoped it would be. The weather was perfect, the farm was filled with friends and guests roaming around talking about organic, sustainable farming practices. Our young interns were teaching and sharing their passion for farming and their role in it.  (A high hope for our future!)  The pig didn’t get loose.
Our guests were excited to spend an evening together. The food was prepared exquisitely.  The long dinner table, under the direction of dear friends, was absolutely stunningly beautiful. The music was superb. The stars were bright and life was really good.
And then, …
for a few moments, it felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath us and my wonderful world came crashing down.  As guests were mingling, finishing tours of the farm, and while the first course of the meal was being prepared and ready to be sent out, a Southern Nevada Health District employee came for an inspection.
Because this was a gathering of people invited to our farm for dinner, I had no idea that the Health Department would become involved.  I received a phone call from them two days before the event informing me that because this was a “public event” (I would like to know what is the definition of “public” and “private”) we would be required to apply for a “special use permit”.
If we did not do so immediately, we would be charged a ridiculous fine.
Stunned, we immediately complied.
We were in the middle of our harvest day for our CSA shares, a very busy time for us, but Monte immediately left to comply with the demand and filled out the required paper work and paid for the fee.  (Did I mention that we live in Overton, nowhere near a Health Department office?)  Paper work now in order, he was informed that we would not actually be given the permit until an inspector came to check it all out.
She came literally while our guests were arriving!
In order to overcome any trouble with the Health Department of cooking on the premises, most of the food was prepared in a certified kitchen in Las Vegas; and to further remove any doubt, we rented a certified kitchen trailer to be here on the farm for the preparation of the meals.  The inspector, Mary Oaks, clearly not the one in charge of the inspection as she was constantly on the phone with her superior Susan somebody who was calling all the shots from who knows where.
Susan deemed our food unfit for consumption and demanded that we call off the event because: 
1. Some of the prepared food packages did not have labels on them.  (The code actually allows for this if it is to be consumed within 72 hours.)
2.  Some of the meat was not USDA certified.  (Did I mention that this was a farm to fork meal?)
3.  Some of the food that was prepared in advance was not up to temperature at the time of inspection. (It was being prepared to be brought to proper temperature for serving when the inspection occurred.)
4.  Even the vegetables prepared in advance had to be thrown out because they were cut and were then considered a “bio-hazard”.
5.  We did not have receipts for our food.  (Reminder!  This food came from farms not from the supermarket!  I have talked with several chefs who have said that in all their years cooking they have never been asked for receipts.)
At this time Monte, trying to reason with Susan to find a possible solution for the problem, suggested turning this event from a “public” event to a “private” event by allowing the guests to become part of our farm club, thus eliminating any jurisdiction or responsibility on their part.  This idea infuriated Susan and threatened that if we did not comply the police would be called and personally escort our guests off the property.  This is not the vision of the evening we had in mind!  So regretfully, again we complied.
The only way to keep our guests on the property was to destroy the food.
I can’t tell you how sick to my stomach I was watching that first dish of Mint Lamb Meatballs hit the bottom of the unsanitized trash can.
Here we were with guests who had paid in advance and had come from long distances away anticipating a wonderful dining experience, waiting for dinner while we were behind the kitchen curtain throwing it away!  I know of the hours and labor that went into the preparation of that food.
We asked the inspector if we could save the food for a private family event that we were having the next day.  (A personal family choice to use our own food.)  We were denied and she was insulted that we would even consider endangering our families health.  I assured her that I had complete faith and trust in Giovanni our chef and the food that was prepared, (obviously, or I wouldn’t be wanting to serve it to our guests).
I then asked if we couldn’t feed the food to our “public guests” or even to our private family, then at least let us feed it to our pigs.  (I think it should be a criminal action to waste any resource of the land. Being dedicated to our organic farm, we are forever looking for good inputs into our compost and soil and good food that can be fed to our animals. The animals and compost pile always get our left over garden surplus and food.  We truly are trying to be as sustainable as possible.)
Again, a call to Susan and another negative response.
Okay, so let me get this right.
So the food that was raised here on our farm and selected and gathered from familiar local sources, cooked and prepared with skill and love was even unfit to feed to my pigs!?!  


You can read how the story ends on the Farm-To-Consumer Legal Defense Fund's site, along with footage from the inspection.   I am more than perturbed about this government intrusion and overzealous inspector on their farm.  It seems to me, she was simply out to get them.  WHY?  Go inspect some food trailers at the County Fair for the love of God.  Surely you could shut down some Fried Twinkie booths.  Leave our source of local food, which is almost non-existent in Las Vegas, ALONE.

After this fiasco, the owners of the CSA, their Clark County commissioner, and the health district employees, Susan LaBay, Mary Oaks, and Steve Goode had a meeting.  This is what they told our farmer.

 From this meeting we learned that for the future, even if we obtained all required permits, we would never be able to serve our farm raised meats to the public unless we had them shipped off to some distant processing plant to have them USDA stamped and certified.  Imagine taking our fresh untainted meat and sending it most likely out of state to join hundreds of other meats of unknown origin and health to be butchered and wrapped by "a professional" and then shipped back to our farm.  I have read the articles and seen the movies about the diseases that can be obtained in these "safe places."  No thank you!  In the future we will no longer have "public events."  We WILL have a Quail Hollow Farm Diners club which you can join and then we will personally invite you to our "private event."   More on that forthcoming. 

I am sharing their story on my blog because I totally support them and I now also support the Farm-To-Consumer Legal Defense Fund.   It's a scary world we live in when farmers are cut off from their consumers.

October is National Farm To School Month.  Now you explain to me how we would ever implement farm to school in Nevada if you can't even eat the food from the farms?

I'm Still Calling It Halloween

In the infinite wisdom of the Clark County School District, the kids are off school today, tomorrow, Saturday, and Sunday.  They return to school on Monday, which is Halloween.

Isn't that scary?  So instead of having Monday and Tuesday off, the kids go to school all day Monday, trick-or-treat all Monday night, and have to be at school on Tuesday morning, bright and early.  Can you imagine being a teacher on Tuesday?

My plan for this year was to not get involved in being a room parent, giving me the flexibility to flit around from room to room and partake in all the spooky fun.  I don't want to be a volunteer whore.  Let the younger parents get their chance.  Unfortunately, nobody stepped up to the plate in Sarah and Gregory's class, so their teacher approached me and asked me if I could do it?

This sent Amanda into a tizzy.  She is so upset that I am not her room mom.  She about had a fainting spell.

Mrs. H. saw the drama and said, "If this is going to be too much for you......."

But I told her we'd work it out.

Greg is Amanda's Room Dad now.  He doesn't know that yet.

Thanks to a comment left from one of you guys, the craft is going to be this Spooky Hand.  Amanda and Austin are going to make some ahead of time for their classmates so nobody faints from unfairness.  I just need to go find some plastic spider rings.  I can't find any.

So are you guys having Halloween parties at school?  The reason we have two days off right now is one day is Staff Development and the other day is Nevada Day, a state holiday.  Nevada day, the day our state was inducted into the union, is actually October 31st but they changed the holiday to the last Friday of the month.  So my friend Laura's school, which is in the same district, is not allowing any costumes or parties on Monday.  We have a costume parade at my school, followed by the classroom parties.  Laura's school is celebrating Nevada Day.

Oh, yeah!  Nevada Day!  I'm sure the kids will be jumping for joy for Nevada Day.  Isn't that boring?

Who else has had the squash put on Halloween?  Since I'm the room mom, I sent out memos that said, "Halloween Party".  I'm still calling it Halloween.  If you don't like that, I'll slap you with my creepy hand.

Don't Make Me Trip You

Sarah's reading group gave a presentation on bats yesterday and she asked if I could come and watch.  She's been Googling bats and making index cards for her speech at home.

If I don't know something, I tell the kids, "Google it." and they do now.  So I don't even pretend like I know all the answers.  I just tell them to go find the answer, and they do, and then they tell me. So I know super important things, like one bat can eat 3000 insects per night.

"Wouldn't you agree that eating insects make bats beneficial?", I asked Sarah.

"Bats are beneficial because one bat can eat 3000 insects per night.", Sarah said during her speech.

Her teacher was very impressed by that bat fact.  I could tell.

After her speech, she told one of the boys in her reading group, "I saw you playing in your desk while I was giving my presentation.  I hope you pass your bat test now."

Whoa!

Remember what we were talking about yesterday?  I'm not worried about Sarah.  At all.

Another girl in their reading group forgot to bring her index cards to school, but she got up and said, "When bats get too close to wind turbines, their lungs fill with blood and explode, and then they die.  Upon examination, there was no outward injuries to the bats, so it was determined that a sudden drop in atmospheric pressure from the wind turbines was causing bat deaths."

The teacher was like, "Oooooh-kay.  Where did you get that information?"

"YouTube.", she said.



What a show off!  Sarah and I had to trip her on her way back to her desk.

I worked at the school before school and during all five lunch recesses.  Then I worked for the P.E. teacher in the afternoon.  She held her annual Pumpkin Run in the park for all the grades.  The kids absolutely love it.  My job was to stand at the furthest end of the park and help the slow ones in.  You guys wouldn't believe how bad of shape some of the kids are in.  I walked with one second grader who is so painfully overweight that she already has tendon injuries just from walking.  I could go on about that one for an hour, it makes me so upset.   

Gregory won the Pumpkin Run.  He's the fastest kid in second grade.

You know, once I tripped all the other ones.

Is It All Just A Crapshoot?

Austin came home from school yesterday and told me, "Mikey didn't come to school on Friday because his mother took him to McDonald's instead.  Sometimes his mom sleeps instead of taking him to school, too."

Mikey has a brother in Sarah's class, so I asked her if the brother comes to school regularly?  He does not.

I could never be a teacher.  I'd be calling the parents and stalking them like I do my delinquent tenants.  I'd probably get sued for harassment because I'd be calling them at home 27 times.

"Hi.  Is this Mikey's mom?  Hi.  You need to get your ass out of bed right now and get your kid to school before I drive over there.  I know where you live."

How can teachers be expected to make any gains with kids when the kids aren't at school?

Amanda really made a great friendship with a little girl in her class, despite my initial worries that she was a loner and would die, childless, surrounded by cats and boxes of newspapers.  The little girl told Amanda she lives in an apartment and shares a room with her three younger sisters.  She's a really good student and a super nice polite child.  She's moving on Wednesday to a new apartment and a new school.  I feel so bad for her because she's getting along so well in her class.  

This is the story of our lives in Vegas.  People move in.  People move out.  Kids come and go.  I can't imagine how difficult this would be if my kids didn't have each other and a stable, consistent home life.

 They've been asking me a lot lately if we are going to move and if we are going to stay in our house.  They have started asking me if we are going to get divorced because so many of their classmates' parents are going through divorces.  There is a lot going on in the lives of some of their peers and it seems the anxiety is rubbing off a little.

It's interesting to me to see that the kids at our school who are really bright and motivated are still at the top of the pack, despite the obstacles they are facing at home.  A lot of the really smart kids have had quite a bit of turmoil in their lives.  Sick parents.  Deaths.  Divorces.  Unemployed parents.  It makes me wonder where my kids would be if they didn't have me harassing them all day?  What if their home life was unstable or stressful?  What if we were getting divorced?  Would they still be at the top?  Which ones would have that internal motivation?

My parents got divorced when I was eight.  We moved.  I changed schools three times by third grade.  There was a tremendous amount of financial uncertainty.  My life was anything but stable during that period, but I always excelled at school.  What makes a child internally motivated?  Do you think they are just born that way?   Do you think it's just the luck of the draw?

So when it all comes out in the wash, is it just a crapshoot?  Like you can do everything right and you either have a kid who is internally motivated to succeed or you just don't, and nothing you did or provided them will change their destiny?  Is that how it really works?

See what happens when I eat vegetables?  I get all reflective.  Like, hey man, are we all just dust under a giant's fingernail?

Next Stop: Animal Hoarders

Fabulous and her new baby, Fabulous Jr.

Another one has hatched and is pure black like our rooster, Matrix.  He wouldn't come out for the pictures. He's really tiny.

It is so weird to me that Fabulous knows instinctively what to do with this baby.  It's not like she had a mother.  She came in a box on my doorstep from the dude on Craigslist last year.

Yet Fabulous is protecting this baby and teaching it how to eat.   Isn't the baby darling?  They are so cute before they get ugly and nasty and stinky.

Note:  2 day old chickens have no feathers.  Just sayin'!!!!

In addition to juggling her two new chicks, she's still incubating her eggs.  She turns them with her beak.  She's also pulled up pieces of trash she's found all over the yard and added it to her nest.  She's a recycler.

I cannot believe it worked!  This is so exciting.  What if they all hatch??????   OMG.  I'll have to go on Animal Hoarders.

This Isn't Working For Me

My chicken had an unassisted homebirth and now we have a little peepers living under her butt!!!!  I tried to get a better picture this morning, but she won't let the baby out today.  Probably because the kids were there and being loud.  The mother hen is literally growling at us and she has herself backed up against the wall with her wings spread out to keep the baby inside her protection.

I can't wait to see what happens with the other 11 eggs.  Having the chicken do all the work is way, way, way easier than an incubator.  I just hope the baby is okay under there.  I've never done this naturally so I have no idea how it works.  Will the mother hen just keep sitting on the babies to keep them warm?  Am I supposed to take them away from her and put them in a brooder?

I have now been juicing for 2 weeks, with a one day hiatus when my car battery died.  I cannot even begin to express how great I feel.  The one day I didn't juice, I woke up the next morning feeling awful again.  So I'm just going to plod along with juicing.  I'm in a routine now, so it doesn't seem overly time-consuming.

Sarah is doing much, much, much better.  She even played soccer yesterday, although not the entire games.  Her face is healing the fastest and the scabs are starting to fall off on her knees.  What a relief.  On Friday when she was still hobbling, I was helping her into school and Austin was walking in front of us.  I watched him walk directly into a pole and his skull reverberated like a gong.

He started screaming and I left Sarah and ran to him as a giant goose egg started growing before my eyes.  We had to get back in the car, drive home, get ice, and go back to school.  I told the kids that I am done with the injuries this week.  Good grief!

Then when I left school, I drove over to Trader's.  As I was pulling out of the parking lot, my phone started ringing.  I fumbled for it, while trying to find my earplug thingies, since you can't talk on a phone anymore.  It was my friend Laurie.  I gave up and answered the phone on speaker, while still fumbling around for the ear buds.

Laurie was crying.

"We were at the school bus stop today and Tyler ran into the street and was hit by a car."

Tyler is her four year old son.

"Is he okay?", I screeched, feeling my heart begin to race and my mind freezing.

"He's dead.", she said and she was crying.

I went hysterical.  I was screaming, "WHAT?  WHAT?  WHAT?"

I literally almost wrecked the car.  All I could picture was that precious, beautiful child being run over by a car.  I finally pulled over and put the phone to my ear.  After several minutes of hysteria, I realized she was telling me Rilah, her dog, was hit by a car and killed, not her son.

Having your dog get run over and killed in front of every single child at the bus stop is a horrible, horrible thing, but I thought she was telling me her CHILD was dead.  I am not kidding when I say it made me so upset, I didn't get over it all day Friday.  I even had a nightmare about it.  Maybe because my own kids have been getting injured this entire week.

We were both crying and she said, "I guess that puts it in perspective."

Anyway, not being able to talk in the car on my phone isn't working for me.  At all.   Kids getting injured isn't working for me.

I'm going to take a page out of my chicken's book, sit on them, and start growling.

The Orphans

Huey, Dewey, and Louie

 That's a rooster if I ever saw one.  Look at him!!!  He's looking right at me, not a skittish bone in his body.  ROOSTER!

The cone on the black one is pretty suspect, too.  And check out the fancy feet on him!!!  His mother must have been Cher.




 So what do you guys think? Maybe the white one is a hen?  Crossing fingers.  They all seem to have really long legs and they are gigantic for the amount of feathers they have.  I am stumped.

DRAMA, DRAMA, DRAMA

Sarah fell off her bike in the street a couple days ago.  Thank God she was wearing a helmet.  She has severe, severe road rash on her knees and she can barely walk.  Her poor beautiful face looks just horrible.

This picture does not even begin to show how ugly her knees look.  Her teacher told me she was very, very uncomfortable in school.  Does anyone have any advice for road rash and preventing scarring?  I am all ears.

Bob had several tons of asphalt delivered at his house and I specifically told the children I didn't want them on the asphalt.

My exact words were, "DO NOT GO ON THAT ASPHALT.  DO NOT TOUCH IT.  DO NOT STAND ON IT."

So instead, with Jerry's encouragement and Greg obviously not watching them, they were jumping the asphalt on their bikes.  Jerry even built a ramp.  I was in the house cleaning up from dinner, so I had no idea they were doing that.  I was FURIOUS.  I told Jerry he is banned from my children.  I screamed at him, I was so mad.  So Sarah jumped the asphalt, lost control of her bike, and bit in right in the street.

I am so upset about her injuries I am just sick to my stomach.  There is no way she can play soccer now.

Then last night, I had a PTA meeting, and I came home and the whole family was watching the bulldozer flatten out the asphalt, when the kids came running from the side of Bob's driveway with a cage of chickens. Someone had left a cage with three chickens in Bob's driveway.

Then Jerry said, "I saw that cage there yesterday."

"You saw a cage with chickens in it and you DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING?", I screamed at him again.

OMG.  Seriously?  Bob's daughter saw the cage of chickens, too, and didn't tell anyone.  Apathetic, much?

So these little chicks had been sitting in a cage for over a day with no food or water.  Just sitting there in Bob's driveway.  I'm surprised they didn't die!

We had leftover chicken starter from our last chicks, and Bob hooked up the heating lamp and we got them all set up.  I just can't believe someone would do that.  It was dark and I haven't had a good look at them yet, but I think they are all goddamn roosters.

Now I've got to run to the feed store today to get more starter for these goddamn roosters, so I can nurture them back to health and then EAT THEM.

UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If You Give A Housewife A Big Bag Of Carrots.....

In an effort to utilize my 50 pound bag of carrots, yesterday I made carrot soup and carrot cookies. Helene Slutsky mentioned she makes a carrot/squash soup, but didn't elaborate on the details, so I Googled around and came up with a roasted carrot/squash soup in the Ladies Home Journal.  I happened to have squash.

So I cut up the carrots, squash, onion, and ginger and roasted it for 45 minutes like the recipe said to do.

It came out beautifully.  I should have stopped there and just had these for dinner.

But I went ahead and put it in the pot with the rest of the ingredients and simmered it for 10 minutes.  Then I whipped out my handblender and pureed it all.

It turned out exactly the consistency of babyfood.  I added more and more broth and it still kept that consistency and at some point, you just decide it's not worth wasting anymore ingredients trying to get it right.  I served it.

Greg had three helpings while saying, "Goo goo, gah gah."

He even said, "Open the garage, here comes the car!" to Austin, who had his mouth clenched and wouldn't touch it to save his life.

The carrot cookies were a huge, huge, huge hit, though.

I found the Oatmeal Raisin Cookies at Baking Bites.

The kids ate all 2 dozen before bed.

Oatmeal Raisin Carrot Cookies
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
3/4 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp pumpkin pie spice
1 cup grated carrots
1 cup quick-cooking (1 minute) oats
1 cup raisins


Cook on 350 degrees for 10-13 minutes.  

 They loved them so much, I'm making more this morning for a treat with their Pizza Lunch today at school!

Now I've only got about 35 pounds of carrots to go.  I've juiced around 10 pounds already.  Sadly, I went to start the car this morning to go buy produce and it won't start.  Thus ending my juicing.  I am out of produce, except carrots.  I'm stuck in the house all day with 35 pounds of carrots.  This could get scary.

It's Like Magic

The kids came running into the house yesterday with the mail.  I had a letter and it wasn't a bill!!!!

It was an envelope full of box tops for Austin.  I couldn't read the return address name and I just sat there, thinking, who sent this?  HOW WEIRD!  Then I finally figured it out.  I think!  I think my friend Leslie's cousin, Cathy, sent Austin the box tops.  Is that right?  Thank you, Cathy.  He was so happy.  Damn you, General Mills.   He was so happy to go to school today.

"It was like magic that I needed the box tops and they came.", he told me.

I was fully prepared to talk to Gregory's teacher about the annoying boy in his class, but Gregory spoke up for himself during class yesterday and took care of the problem on his own.  That totally works for me.  I got a look at the kid at lunch yesterday and it turns out he's a really tan White kid.  I was totally cracking up.  I get that dark!!!!!  He's also much smaller than Gregory and I have a feeling that what is going on is that he is trying to get Gregory to be his friend and Gregory isn't interested.  He already has a pack of boys he hangs out with.

All of my children are in chess club this year, except Gregory.  He absolutely REFUSES to play chess.  I don't get it.  I need even pairs here!!!!

Amanda's foot is better.  I was so worried about it getting infected, but all the holes closed nicely on their own and she went to jump rope today.

My friend Laurie called me yesterday.  She is trying to convince me to take another international cruise in 2012.

"Let's do Greece!", she said.

"Do you read the paper AT ALL?", I asked her.

"Why?  What's wrong with Greece?"

"Financial collapse.  Global economic meltdown.  Riots.  Ring any bells?"

"How about the Bahamas?"

My sister and I both watched the documentary, Burzynski, a cancer researcher in Texas who specializes in brain tumors.



It was absolutely fascinating.  I recommend watching this movie.  Obviously due to the number of children in the movie with brain tumors, it is particularly interesting to me.  And scary.

Okay, I am way way way way behind here today.  Can you tell by this late post????????

What Color Is She?

Gregory is having a problem with one of the boys who moved into their classroom after we lost one of our second grade teachers a couple weeks ago.

He's bothering Gregory during class.  He talks incessantly and he's stealing stuff out of Gregory's desk.  Gregory isn't a complainer or talker, so when he voiced the problems he's having, I believe him.  He also brought home three Bs on his monthly progress report, so I can see that it's even effecting his grades.

"What does he look like?", I asked Gregory, so I could spot the brat on the playground.

"He's brown."

"Light brown or dark brown?"

"Medium brown."

Okay, that narrows it down to 70 percent of the kids that go there.

I think it's important to note that even though their school is only 27 percent White, they still do not identify people by Race or ethnicity in second grade.  Like I can't say, "Is he Black or Hispanic?"  They don't get it.

"What does his hair look like?", I asked.

"It's brown."

"Is it curly or wavy or straight?"

"I don't know.  Regular."

Okay, that narrows the kid down to 70 percent of the kids that go there.

"Does he speak Spanish?"

"He speaks English at school."

It's like interrogating a hostile witness.  I get no answers.  So, anyway, I guess it's time I get in the classroom and volunteer and figure out what's going on there.   I haven't even told Greg about this issue since he'll tell Gregory to smash his face in if he touches his desk.  Greg is a little old school.

Speaking of hostile people, Greg came home yesterday with a 50 pound bag of carrots he got at Smart & Final for $6.

I have no idea where he thinks we can store 50 pounds of carrots, so I guess I'll be juicing a lot of carrots this week.

"What does your mother look like?"

"She's on the playground all the time.  She's orange."

"Light orange or dark orange?"

"Dark orange."

Thanks, But No Thanks

Greg went on a motorcycle ride yesterday, so the kid and I drove up to Mt. Charleston in search of color.

We got in a miff a few weeks ago when he suggested we both take a motorcycle ride over to his mother's house.  The kids were in school so he suggested we go for a ride and get lunch.  I wouldn't go.  I have not been on a motorcycle with him since I had the children.

We are the only parents these kids have and if we both went down on the same motorcycle together, our kids wouldn't have any parents.  I do not feel comfortable putting our family in such a perilous situation for a joy ride.  He can ride his motorcycle, but I'm not getting on one with him until my children are living on their own and self-sufficient.  Call me crazy.........

So he was mad at me and stormed off and got on his motorcycle and drove away.  He just wanted to go for a ride to his mother's house.  He didn't want a rundown of what would happen to our kids if we both died in a motorcycle accident.

Uh, HELLO.  There's a reason the President and Vice President don't fly in the same plane!!!!

Now that Greg's mom is back, we are having Sunday dinner at her house again.  She invited her friends to dinner yesterday and it was such a pleasure to have all the children behave so civilly and pleasantly.  It was like they turned it up a notch for the guests.  We were having such a nice conversation when Amanda fell off Greg's mom's wall and landed on a barrel cactus with her bare-feet.

Barrel cacti are treacherous and I ran across the rocks in my own bare-feet and scooped her up.  She had broken off two inch long needles and they were hanging out of the bottom of her foot.  She was screaming and screaming and screaming and there was blood pouring out of her foot.  

Get the smelling salts.

When I pulled them out, the tops broke off inside her foot.  It was awful.  I thought for sure we were going to end up in the E.R because they were so embedded inside her foot.  Greg tried to get them out at his mom's house, but he didn't have his glasses or the right equipment.  Do you get eerily calm when your kids get hurt?  I have out-of-body experiences practically.  It's like I'm hovering above watching the hysterical people.  I felt like that every time Austin went through a medical procedure too.  It's only after it happens that I just completely freak out.

We (and when I say we, I mean Greg) got them all out, including this half inch monster which was stuck straight in the arch of her foot.  Can you imagine breaking off something this size in your arch?  It was horrible.

She told me she's going to keep her shoes on now at Grammy's house.  YEAH!

So, yes, I will let Greg operate on my children with a scalpel, but I won't get on the back of a motorcycle with him.  He's not operating on me on the side of the road somewhere.