Saturday morning I made this for breakfast (one of Pioneer Woman's recipes) with a side of ham. We liked it so much that we had it again Sunday morning. I can't begin to tell you how much I ADORE this breakfast. Sure, it looks extremely fattening with all the butter and all, but I made it with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter and it was JUST AS GOOD! It's our new fave. It can be a little tricky to cook it long enough to toast the bread but not to the point of totally cooking the yolk. A runny yolk is a plus in my book.
I've gotta say I felt proud of myself for cooking a mighty tasty breakfast. It made me feel all wifely and all. Like such a little homemaker.
Sure, other things around the house need some attention. But I COOKED. And it was GOOD.
I hate laundry so much that Garrett usually does it. But I COOKED. And it was GOOD.
My feet are so jacked up that I dare not show them in public. And I'm too lazy to give myself a pedicure. But I COOKED. And it was GOOD.
I forget to turn on the dishwasher until we get to the point that we can't fit one more dish in there. But I COOKED. And it was GOOD.
I drove my husband crazy yesterday telling him how I would do math problems. And he hadn't even asked. But I COOKED. And it was VERY GOOD.
So thank you, Pioneer Woman. Thank you for sharing a recipe that makes me feel like a wife. Thank you for a recipe that makes me forget about my failings. And thank you for a recipe that makes me feel like I did Something Worthwhile that day. I will be forever grateful.
Monday, July 28, 2008
I COOKED
Thursday, July 24, 2008
The Day Should Start at Noon
I'm not what one would call a Morning Person.
I don't bounce out of bed with hair perfectly in place, breath as fresh as a spring breeze, and a smile for every person or creature that comes my way.
My mornings look a little like this:
- Slowly wake up.
- Decide it's too early to be awake and quickly fall back asleep.
- Wake up again, watch my husband walk around getting ready, and feel guilty.
- Fall back asleep.
- Wake up again and throw the covers off.
- Fall back asleep.
- Wake up again and throw my body into a sitting position.
- Climb out of bed and try to remember how to stand.
- Smooth the back of my hair down so my husband doesn't fall on the floor laughing.
- Creep to the bathroom to answer the call of nature.
- Grunt a hello to Garrett. Or maybe just grunt.
- Taste my mouth and reach for the toothbrush.
- Kiss Garrett good morning after a good tooth brushing.
- Sit at my vanity and try to spackle and paint my face until I'm presentable.
- Try to remember what I wore during the past week so that I don't put on a duplicate outfit.
- Creep downstairs, trying not to trip over a cat or dog, in search of sustenance and a cup of coffee.
- Do a little Bible reading, journaling, and praying.
- Drive to work.
- Read email and plan my day.
- Start thinking about lunch.
- Fully wake up.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
All in a Day's Work
This morning I took a trip to Ye Old Medical Lab for some routine blood work. The blood work itself was routine, but it messed up my own routine by requiring that I fast this morning. FAST. As in No Breakfast For You. On a morning that I was especially Hungry. I thought about sneaking a bowl of Fiber One cereal since the large amounts of fiber (hence the name) don't allow the food to stay in my digestive system for very long, causing minimum impact. So that's kind of like fasting, right? But when I thought about it a little more I realized that my hips don't lie and maybe my little fiber theory isn't entirely valid. WebMD does not a doctor make.
(At this point I'm sure that my Physician Assistant baby sister is reaching for her cell phone to scoff at my lack of medical knowledge. And maybe I should be going to her for medical advice. She's got the degree and all. But every time I look at her I see the little girl with pigtails, pointy BX glasses, and a look in her eye that said, "I'm trouble - with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for Pool!" Although she's not much of a pool player. But I'm a Music Man fan and couldn't resist. Any Music Man fans out there? Anybody? No? Oh, nevermind.)
Anyhoo...
I digress.
So I left the house, escaping the Fiber One lure, and eased on down the road (what's with the musical references today?) to the medical lab, or, as I like to call it, the House of Pain. You see, my veins take on a cloak of invisibility when they sense the presence of a needle. Those inexperienced with The Needle use me as a pin cushion until I'm on the verge of passing out. So whenever I'm confronted by a new lab technician, I wonder, "Do you know what you're doing?"
So I walk into the lobby area, sign in, and chat with the technician for a few minutes. She asks me if I'm fasting, and I say yes along with an "I'm ready for a cup of coffee!" She agrees with me but tells me that she can't have coffee because she's going through a detox.
Say wha?
No, no, no, this can't be good.
We've established that I do not have a mind filled with medical knowledge, but I'll go ahead and say that I do not think that people undergoing detox are, shall we say, well-fed. And I'm of the mind that a well-fed person is a happy person. And only happy people should be wielding needles. Especially if those needles are directed toward my person.
We continued with the chit-chat and I relaxed. I tried not to think about the needle, like I was sitting in the funny chair with my sleeve rolled up just because I considered it to be comfortable and a good time to make a fashion statement. I was very pleasantly surprised that the detoxed-yet-wonderful lab technician got what she needed with one stab.
I feel that it's important to compliment good work, so I told her that I appreciated her expertise and the minimum of pain. She shared her secret with me - you may not be able to see a vein, but you can feel it. She simply knew what she was doing. And I realized that if you want something done right, you've gotta go to the experts.
Words to live by, my friend. Words to live by.
So I went on my merry way and rewarded myself with a trip to Starbucks for a biscotti and tall skinny vanilla latte. Actually, I tried to convince myself that I deserved a full sugar latte, for the pain and suffering and all, but Myself didn't buy it. So I got the skinny latte...and totally forgot about the biscotti. Coffee on an empty stomach. Nice. Pouring salt on the wound, so to speak.
That's how my work day began - little food, a lot of blood, and a very boring story to share.
Thank you for reliving the experience with me.
Good night.
