WHEN LIFE HANDS YOU LIMES, MAKE MARGARITAS.

I don't know if I like that saying because I like Margaritas, or if I like Margaritas because I like the saying.  Either way its a great philosophy for me.

Tonight I am making Margaritas.

Life has been cruel lately.  Not to me.  I am well, as are my children and husband.  But others around me have been pelted by limes left and right.  Often times there is little I can do beyond a supportive phone call  or optimistic email.  I feel so helpless and useless.  I feel impotent.  And sometimes I even feel guilty for being so healthy and comfortable.  In the face of my blessings I feel undeserving and spoiled.

And all I can do to help them is to pick up those damn limes, toss them into the blender and make Margaritas.

So, tonight I shall have Margaritas... and truffles.

And tomorrow... tomorrow I shall have Chinese for breakfast!  (thanks for all the great suggestions)

aoljpictureUpload, aoljpictureUpload_1

SO ANYHOW, I WAS JUST WONDERING....

Don't the Chinese people eat breakfast?  Why aren't there any Chinese restaurants open in the morning?  For the past week I've had an insatiable craving for chow fun or shrimp lo mein ~ the real stuff, not those boxed and frozen tv dinner things.  I can get Whoppers with cheese, a 'north of the border' Mexican burritos (yummy!), and biscuits and gravy pretty much round the clock... but no Chinese food.  Grrrrrrrrr!

Tags: Chinese food

QUICK... (while they're still sleeping)

Wow, its the middle of January already.  Where has the time gone?

Seriously, where HAS the time gone?  One minute I'm in an airport in Middle America picking at lint on my Snuggle fresh sweater and next thing I know its 16 days into the new year, I'm suffering from sleep depravation and the entire house smells of diapers and left over formula.

Ah, the heady aroma of babies! (gag!)

Yesterday I stood in line to buy a can of formula.  I haven't bought formula in almost 13 years.  I glanced at the nutrition label but it doesn't matter to me.  We have been trained to buy and feed our babies what others say we should.  Almost $14 later I read that the can of powder doesn't even make a full gallon of formula.  Just for shits and giggles I worked out the cost per ounce.  Enfamil with Lipil runs $19.06 a gallon.  Amazing!

Kim and the boys will be moving into an apartment on Friday.  Its just a mile down the way, on the other side of the park.  Its close enough for us to be able to drop in and help out any time she needs us yet far enough away to give her some space from our potentially suffocating presence.  They're not even gone yet and I miss them already.

Except in the darkest hours of the earliest minutes of the morning.  I don't miss them then, I won't miss them then.  I'm not sure why but for some reason the little guys have decided that they should be up and screaming at 0'dark hundred every morning.  Nope, I won't miss that at all.

But everything else, the smiles, the hugs, the slobbery kisses, pretending that I'm seeing Mater being chased by the Ghost Lights in Cars for the first time... for the 200th time in a row... Hearing new words being learned and spoken for the first time, seeing walks across the floor getting longer and farther before the fall, yeah, I'll miss all that.

And the looks on all 3 little faces when they see me after the end of my work day, the look of delight that 'Maa-Maw' is home.

*Note: Sarcasm is lost on babies.  When I said 'Oh yay, you waited for me to get home to make a stinkie', I was being facetious.  They took me literally.  It has now become sort of a crude form of baby greeting... Maa Maw's home, Yay!  (poop!) And in triplicate!  Gonna have to start feeding those little guys flowers so their poop don't stink so bad!

Has having the Grand Oompas around been what I had expected and hoped?

Oh yes, and then some!  I only wish Gabe was here as well.  That would make it perfect.  Only 12 more months. 

Tags: grand babies, child wisdom

I GOT A NEW CAR... SORT'A

Big Red's steering is shot and Dickidoo is tired of fixing my truck.  He decided to put the old Ford out to pasture and got me a new car.

A used new car.  An itty bitty teenie tiny car that I almost have to squat to get into.

But it has a working heater and power steering.

Never try to drive a new used car to work at 4 am in the morning without taking it out on a test drive first... in daylight. 

I wish I had thought of this yesterday.

I didn't know where the windshield scraper was so I pulled out my employee discount card to scrape the frost off of the windshield.  I was immediately impressed by the fact that I didn't have to climb up and lean over to reach the windshield.  I just leaned over and might even have been able to defrost the far side of the window as well, if my discount card didn't decide to snap in half.  Grrrrrrrrr!

With frozen fingers I felt around for the key hole in the door.  After considerable fumbling I found it and unlocked the door.  I fell into the car and slammed the door, struggling against the automated seat belt that strapped me back against the seat.  With a deep breath I leaned forward and tried to find the ignition.  I felt around on the steering column in the dark but couldn't find anything resembling the ignition slot.  No problem, I'll just turn on the interior lights.

Just as soon as I find them...

Okay, maybe I'll open the door since the dome light pops on automatically when the door is ajar. 

Great, not only does this new used car not have an ignition or interior lights, it doesn't have a door handle!

I had half a mind to call Dickidoo and wake him up so he could open the car door for me.  In fact I was in the process of flipping my phone open when the back light of the display lit up the tiny cab of the car.  Ah hah!  There's the ignition.  And the door latch!

I was 11 minutes late .  I would have been even later but I clocked myself going 60 mph on a 35 mph street.  I can tell how fast Big Red is going by the vibrations.  The Tracer doesn't vibrate.  To be honest I don't think the speedometer works, there's no way I could have been going 60 mph down the street and still been 11 minutes late for work.  Was I really locked in the darkened car for that long before figuring out how to turn the darn thing on?

Getting out of the car after work was a whole new challenge.  I had tossed my jacket on the passenger seat beside me and grabbed it before getting out of my seat belt.  The automatic seat belt disengages when the door opens and I found myself tangled up in the seat belt as I tried to get out with my jacket.

Did you know that long hair in a itty bitty, teenie tiny car with automatic seat belts generates a heck of a lot of static? 

Did you know that Medusa drives a slate blue Tracer?

Tomorrow I think I will give myself a few extra minutes to get to work.  11 extra minutes should do it.

I already miss Big Red!

The Tracer has a working heater (yay!) and power steering, but Big Red has class, and style, and oh so many great memories!  I don't see why we have to get rid of her, just because she's old, and her heater doesn't work, and she's a little hard to steer...

Please Dickidoo, don't get rid of Big Red, pretty please?

Tags: new car, used car

IF THE INTERNET ISN'T REAL, then why do I hurt so bad?

I think I have lost at least 10 pounds in tears this week.  But that's not all I've lost.  I've lost... WE'VE lost... two very special women.  Online they were known as mzgoochi and demandnlilchit.  In person they were Lahoma and Kimberleigh.  In my heart they were my friends.

The death of an Internet friend is hard to deal with because there is nothing to hold on to.  Individuals are separated by miles and miles of cable.  Often times family members who might otherwise know a neighborhood or workplace friend are unaware of cyber friendships and therefore are untouched by the loss.

I hurt.  I hurt so bad.  I want to scream.  I want to run as fast and as far as I can to get away from the reality.  I want so bad for someone to say 'Oops, sorry, they aren't really dead... my bad!'  Its happened before, I wouldn't mind if it happened now.  I would love for it to happen now.

Nobody has come forward to admit to a hoax.  I can wait.  I don't mind.  Please, someone come forward and admit to a hoax.

Please....

My brain is in defensive mode.  My heart is locking down.  No more friends.  No more caring for silly nonsensical names@aol.com.  And just maybe I won't hurt so bad ever again.

No...

I have met so many wonderful, precious people... REAL people here online.  I am richer for knowing them.  I cannot turn my back and heart on them, on you.

I just wish it didn't hurt so much to let go when one must leave this world.

God speed Lahoma.  God speed Kim.  I hope to see you both again.  Till then, missing you so much,

Dorn~

Tags: mzgoochi, lahoma, demandnlilchit, kimberleigh

THE COUNTRY MOUSE VISITS THE CITY

Its not often that I have a full tank on a day off, with no prior commitments on my calendar, so I decided to take a drive into the city.  I live on the edge of town, close enough to have my zip code included in the city limits yet far enough out to avoid traffic and other big city headaches.

I ventured into the city today with one purpose, to find the ultimate give for my son from a store that could only be found smack dab in the middle of the business district... where you must pay to park.  I didn't know the exact location of the shop so I took advantage of the many red lights I encountered en route to dig for change for the parking meters.

3 dimes, 1 nickel and a million pennies.  That should buy me about 20 minutes if and when I found the place.  I needed more money.

But wait, a bank!  With a parking lot!  Feeling like things were starting to fall into place, I turned into the parking lot and entered the bank lobby.  It was a credit union, but not the one I bank at.  I used the ATM, accepting the $1.50 fee, and grimacing for the hidden video camera because I knew my credit union would be tacking on a user fee of their own.  Of course the ATM only spits out bills, and there was no way I was going to stuff a twenty into the parking meter, so I entered the bank and stood in line.

Actually I was the line.  I waited patiently until one of the two tellers finished doing what ever tellers do when there is no customer standing in front of them.  She motioned me over and I laid the crisp twenty I had just retrieved from the ATM machine on the counter. 

'I don't have an account here but I was wondering if I could get some change for this?'

The teller didn't even blink.

'Actually we only serve members.'

I was still smiling but I swear I could hear my eyes blink.. 3 times... very loudly.  She however wasn't smiling.  She didn't care that I just paid $1.50 to get that $20 from her ATM.  I wasn't a member, I wasn't even a guest.  For all practical purposes I was an uninvited intruder. 

I wasn't asking to cash a check, or buy a money order.  I just wanted change for a bill I just got from the ATM in the lobby.  Change... that was all I was asking for.  Change for the parking meter because you have to pay for the privilege to park in the city. 

'Unbelievable'.  I said with a laugh.  'Merry Christmas!'

She didn't return my greeting.  No 'thank you' or 'sorry'.  No 'have a nice day'.  Nothing.

I don't belong in a city where one must pay to park to shop.  I don't belong in a members only city, where you must fill out an application WAC to qualify for a smile and courtesy, where a visitor can't even walk into a bank to get change for the dang parking meters. 

I can't think of anything I need badly enough in town to put up with that ever again.

Except for the  ultimate give for my son from a store that could only be found smack dab in the middle of the business district.  Grrrrrrrrr!

That city is enough to turn a saint into a scrooge!

Where I live there are no parking meters.  In my town the stores and restaurants have their own parking lots... where you can park for free!  (what a concept!)

Did you know that when you say 'Merry Christmas' to a complete stranger in Widefield, Security or Fountain Colorado, most people will smile back and return the greeting.

God Bless Smalltown, USA!

Merry Christmas everyone!  (yes, even the grumpy members only bank teller).

WHAT I'VE BECOME

I have changed.  People tell me so all the time.

"Jojo, are you okay?  You look like crap!"

Not only do I look like crap now days, I smell like crap.  My Elizabeth Arden's Fifth Avenue is over powered by the fragrance of regurgitated Similac.  When I return to work after lunch I almost always have cereal, cookie, or baby burps smeared on my shirt. 

I have no need for eye liner since I now sport naturally dark circles under my eyes.  My vocabulary includes words like 'mum-mum', 'peek-a-boo!' and 'ewwww! Who made a stinkie?' 

There is no such thing as sitting down to relax.  Sitting down leaves one's lap open to immediate occupation.  Filled cups are fair game for little hands and thirsty lips.  Papers, especially important looking ones, become instant napkins and teethers.

Babies can sleep through loud TV shows, laughter and other screaming babies.  Babies could probably sleep through an earth quake.

Babies cannot sleep through a tip-toed exit and the quiet click of a door.

Babies may not understand English but they understand the sound of a tip-toed exit and the quiet click of a door.

Babies have an emergency warning system to alert other babies. Babies practice this emergency warning system frequently.  It works very well.

Crying is contagious.  So is screaming.

So this is grand-motherhood.

I'm loving it! 

Tags: grand babies, grand parents

WHEN TORTILLAS ATTACK

Inquiring minds wanted to know... so here's a picture of my garlic induced bruise.  It looks worse than it feels.  I swear the back of my leg never hit anything, I fell forward.  The witnesses (no doubt they're all laughing over the instant replay on the security cam) all confirmed this.  All I can say is Yes!  I would do it all again if given a handful of garlic tortillas to fondle and sniff!  Really folks, if you ever see a rack of Mission tortillas and they have their Garlic and Herb wraps, take a whiff (I recommend standing perfectly still when doing so to avoid a similar injury).

Tags: bruise

QUIET, and is it spring yet?

The Northern Oompas are spending the evening with their uncle (Kim's brother) in town.  For a little while all of the gates and barriers are down.  No hurdles for my stubby old legs.  Even Rocky ran a couple of laps around the upstairs in pure glee.

But its too quiet.  No ornery chatter from Cyrus.  No happy screeching from Ayden.  No little baby giggles and coos from Ryott.  (I must remember to ask Kimmie how to spell Cyrus... with a C or with an S... I've been spelling it both ways.)  It just doesn't feel right any more without them.  Grandma Connie must be missing them like crazy.  I know my poor little Zachary is missing his partner in crime.

We found an apartment just a few blocks away.  Its close enough to both Kim's brother and us so we can help her out at a moment's notice and yet still far enough for her to have her independence.  The management there is great with soldiers and Gabe is doing the application online from Iraq, how cool is that? 

We'll be driving up to the mountains to get a tree.  The little ones will be joining us in this family tradition.  Its amazing how little children can brighten up the holiday season.  Don't get me wrong, even with my teenage Oompas we have a great time celebrating but little ones add a touch of magic that excites everyone.

Being the uber-graceful person that I am, I tripped over a rack of tortillas at work while sniffing a pack of garlic tortilla wraps and re-injured my calve right where I almost tore the muscle in half about 4 years ago.  Although I fell forward and landed on a bed of tortillas, I am now sporting a huge dark black, blue and red bruise on the back of my calve.  Only me........  grrrrrrrrrr!

Don't know yet if we'll have a white Christmas, but I can say for sure that we currently have a white Tuesday.  We got a nice snowfall this weekend, and its been snowing very lightly all day.

Okay, that's enough snow for me.  Where's that dang groundhog?  I guarantee he won't be seeing his shadow today...  Come on, bring on the spring!

LITTLE OOMPA LOGIC, ain't it great?

Over the years, as my litter of Oompas grew and matured (?) I seem to have forgotten about the fascinating simplicity of child logic.  It has entranced me since Gabe's 'grabity' - the earth's force that grabs things and pulls them down...  and Becca's front door and back door neighbors (neighbors in the front and back as compared to our next door neighbors who live on our sides). 

Logic is instinctive.  Little 1 year old Ayden doesn't speak, but I can see him thinking in his deep blue eyes.  Even Little Ryott's little brain is scheming baby schemes behind his smiling big brown eyes.  Syrus, who will be 3 on Valentine's day is more obvious.

I told him to 'throw' a can away.  The next thing I knew the can was sailing across the room and into the kitchen, landing by the stove.  Naturally I fussed at him about throwing things, until it dawned on me that I had actually told him to throw the can.  I decided to reword the command, with a 'Please put the can in the trash', and the Oompa obediently picked the can up and set it nicely in the garbage can. 

* Note to self:  choose your words carefully and literally!

When Syrus first arrived he was surrounded by a house full of towering strangers.  He was not overwhelmed though and solved the problem by addressing everyone as 'peoples'.  I corrected him when he was talking to Becca.

"That is Auntie".

The correction was duly noted and Becca is now known as 'Auntie Peoples'.

And Art, who wowed his young nephew with owl and dove calls, is known as 'Cool Guy'.

Big Zack patiently endures little hands grabbing on his legs with the casual tolerance of an old experienced uncle.  I have noticed that while he doesn't pick the little guys up, he makes an unconscious point of being within reach of their curious explorations.  He hasn't resorted to baby talk ... yet... but I imagine its just a matter of time.

Dickidoo is trying hard to get Syrus to say 'Grandpa' but for the time being its 'MoMo'  I wouldn't be surprised if the little guy can say it correctly but its so much more fun to watch Dickidoo trying to teach him the right way.

Rocky best summed up our relationship with the two older boys.

"They aren't Gabe's sons but they are my nephews."

Welcome to the House of Loompa!

These past few days have been a real test with first the Northern Oompas getting sick and now the Mountain Oompas.  Its a nasty stomach virus that takes about 48 hours to run its course.  At one point poor Kim had had all 3 boys plus herself down with it.  And just as it tapered off with them my gang got it.  Joy!

Hopefully this will guarantee a healthy holiday season.

Please Lord, cos this one really sucked!

Tags: grand babies, child wisdom, logic

GRAND OOMPAS AT LAST!

Big Oompas, little Oompas, Oompas Oompas everywhere!

I love it!

It was very late when I arrived at my grand babies house and although Little Zack was awake, he was very sleepy and grumpy.  He stayed up late and sadly was still asleep the next morning when we left for the airport so I didn't get to really bond with him or even get a picture.  Needless to say I feel very disappointed when ever I think about it, but then the three little guys that came back with their mother and me quickly fill the void.

Its been years since I had little ones in the house.  I had forgotten how fun it could be, and how exhausting!

Just a few discoveries I have made during the past few days:

* There are muscles that you never use until you become a grandparent.  These muscles are located in the neck, back and arms (for hugging and holding).  If you don't stretch them out first before taking on the full time job of grand parenting you will HURT!

* The average 18 month old child has an arm span of 36 inches.  They have the reach of 60 inches.  Don't ask me how, they just do.  If they can see it, they can get it.  And remember, just because YOU can't see it doesn't mean THEY can't see it.

* Baby food and formula still tastes nasty.

* The easiest way to get a child to do something is to tell them 'NO!'  (Oh wait, I already knew that one.)

* Don't be fooled by the size, baby turds may be small but only because they are concentrated.  If anything they stink worse than big people turds. 

* Baby proofing often results in grandma proofing.  About the only one who slows down at the baby gates is me.  The little Oompas can get over them easier than I can.

* If it can fall, spill, break, tear, mark or stain, consider it done.  After all, grand babies may be precious but they are still just children and bound by the Kids Code of Opportunity.

* Just because they have a limited vocabulary doesn't indicate that a grand Oompa doesn't have the ability to plan and scheme. 

* There is no such thing as too much giggles and smiles.

Cincinnati and a real bathroom . Ah! Now on to Cleveland.

Whoa! What a tiny airplane . I hope I fit in it!

EASIER SAID THAN DONE...

Baby proofing the house of 3 teenaged Oompas and 3 adults has proven to be a bigger task than we thought.  Our intentions were good, but it can't be done.  We just have way too much junk and stuff and ran out of hiding places for them a long time ago.  We shall no doubt be on our toes constantly while the Grand-Oompas are here with us.

I leave for Ohio in a couple of hours.  A few hours after that I shall be hugging and squeezing Grand babies!  I cannot adequately express the excitement I am feeling right now.

Or the fear.

What if they don't like me?  What if I scare them with my big eyes and fluffy, squishy hugs?

I can't believe it.  I've been waiting for this moment for almost 3 years and now that it is nearly upon me I am nervous.  Not of the flight or traveling alone.  Not of the family (I've met the older sister and adored her).  I am nervous of meeting the little guys.  Unbelievable!  And its not because two of them are mini-oompas, although that fact is more than enough reason to be nervous of them.  No, its more like jumping into the middle of the game and being afraid of not fitting in and screwing up the team.

Ahhhh well, I'll just cross that bridge if and when I get to it.  In the mean time I have to get ready.  I have some Grand-Oompas to hug and squeeze!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

I spent the morning and early afternoon planning on what I wasn't going to do today. 

Mission accomplished.

What I did get done was to straighten up my recipe bookshelf.  Once upon a time my cookbooks all fit on the bottom shelf of a cupboard in the kitchen.  Now they take up the two bottom shelves of my bookshelf in the dining room.  I suppose I should sort through them and get rid of the books and magazines that I don't use.  You can tell them from the ones I use frequently because they will be clean.  My favorite books and recipe magazines are covered with old dried on splatters and drips.  That's how I find the pages I'm looking for, I just grab the book I think its in and turn to the dirty pages, and poof, there it is!  Anyhow, the bookcase is nicely organized... for now.  Chances are that once I start digging for recipes tomorrow it will pretty much look like it did earlier.  But for now, its beautiful!

I hope everyone can find many good reasons to be thankful tomorrow.  I know I have.   I am thankful for my family and their good health.  I am thankful for the opportunity to finally meet my grand babies and be a solid part of their lives.  I am thankful for the support the country continues to send my son and the Armed Forces in harms way.  I am thankful for the One who watches over them and keeps them safe.

I am also very thankful that farts have sound so I can leave the room before the smell hits.  I shall be serving up hominy with smoked turkey for our more traditional Harvest Feast on Friday and for some reason it gets Dickidoo and the Oompas rootin' and tootin'.  Farts... in stereo, with surround smell.  Believe me folks, that's not something you'll ever want to experience in this house and you'll soon find yourself appreciating our Maker's considerate fore sight in adding a warning signal.

Happy Thanksgiving from my family to yours.  May your house smell of roasted turkey and pumpkin pie fresh from the oven, and not of smoked turkey and hominy the day after.

Dorn~

GROWN UP OR GROWING OLD

You can 'chose'  not to grow up, but you have no choice in growing old.  It just happens, whether you like it or not.  I'm not ashamed of my age and quite honestly don't give it much thought unless someone makes that tacky old age comment "Wow, you look good for your age!"

What exactly does a 47 year old woman look like?  White haired?  Been there.  Missing teeth?  Done that!  Wrinkles?  Bingo!  Over weight?  Heck, I aced that one ahead of time!

I have come to the conclusion that the comment really isn't a compliment at all.  Its just what people say when they are trying to cover up what they are really thinking...

"Damn, so THAT'S what 47 looks like!"

(I love telling the Oompas that they will all look like either Dickidoo or me when they grow up, its soooo fun to watch their sassy little faces turn positively sick with worry.)

And, just in case a glance in my mirror each morning, or the steady rising temperature in the room when the birthday candles are lit on a cake that grows larger each year to accommodate the increasing number of candles, doesn't give me a clue that I just might be on the downward slide towards the half century mark... now even my junk mail and online spam has adjusted to reflect my maturity.

I no longer receive offers for penile enlargers or sexual enhancers.  Now I get offers for free samples of cialis and hot flash relief.  Victoria's Secret has been replaced by Lane Bryant and I think the Gerber Life Insurance company may have sold my address to that new company that offers Alzheimer's Insurance... I kid you not, I got a brochure today!

'You are as old as you feel.'  That's a goofy saying.  Right now I feel stiff and creaky, a little achy, a little worn out.  I guess this is what 47 feels like. 

But I'm a HAPPY stiff, creaky, achy, worn out 47 year old!  (I hear grand babies will do that to you.)

GOT MY TICKET TO HAPPINESS!

Got my e-ticket to Ohio for the 28th.  Got my Grand-Oompa's e-ticket to Colorado on the 29th, as well as his mother and two big brothers.  And hopefully I'll get to hug and kiss my older Grand-Oompa Zachary before I leave Ohio.   Yes, my grand babies are cousins/brothers... long story short:  Gabe met his ex's sister while visiting his son and they fell in love.  We tease him about it, but he and Kimmie are really trying to work this out and I am so proud of them.  Kimmie has two other children so I'm flying out to help out on the flight over.  More grand babies to love, WOO HOO!

Big Zack won't be returning to Florida.  Yay!  I mean... awwwww, that's too bad! The crew moved on to Philadelphia while he was here and there isn't enough work to warrant him flying over so looks like he'll be staying around here.  Its a good thing he didn't cut his hair yet.

If you had asked me a week ago I would have said that while I held no regrets, that my life in general sucked.  I'm a born again virgin, my husband keeps coming up with 'get out of debt quick' schemes that ironically take him far away and makes me a 47 year old single parent of among others two daughters who are going through teenage menopause and while I was a grandmother to two adorable grandsons, I have yet to hold them.  Today, however, nothing can keep me down.  I'd be walking on air if I wasn't so darn fluffy.  Today my smile is genuine.  Today is a good day.  Tomorrow is one day closer to even better.

Grandbabies... I get to hold my grandbabies!

DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES

Don't laugh, but I was sooooo desperate to remove that onion smell from my hands that I tried several remedies all at once.

Salt, lemon juice and a metal spoon. 

I poured about 2 tablespoons of sea salt into my hand, soaked it with pure lemon juice concentrate, and massaged the mixture into my hand with a large metal spoon.  All I needed was a glass with vodka and I'd be a human cocktail.  But guess what?  It worked.  I'm not really sure what did the trick, all I know is that the onion smell is gone.  So a big thanks to everyone who wrote in with suggestions.

Now... any suggestions on how to get a salty, slightly metallic lemon smell off of my hands?

Tags: onion odor

ONIONS HAVE LAYERS... lots of stinky, stinky layers!

Hey, do you remember me mentioning my wonderful elderly neighbor who occasionally gives me boxes of chocolates and other such goodies?  Well, he also gives me boxes of onions!  The other day he gave me one that held close to 60 potent bulbs. 

You'd think I had struck gold or something!

I love cooking with onions and put them in just about every recipe that doesn't include sugar or some kind of sweetener, so when I see a box full of onions I'm thinking stir fry, stew, soups, chili, omelets... blooming onions!

The problem with getting a box full of onions is that despite the fact that I use onions almost every day in one recipe or another, there is no way possible that I could use 60 onions before they began to spoil.  But they're like gold to me, remember?  I couldn't let them go to waste.

So I chopped them up, all at once.

Well, maybe not all of them... and certainly not all at the same time.  More like about 30 of them, one at a time.  My eyes ran out of tears after about the 4th onion.

And now two days later I still smell like the condiment tray of a weenie wagon. 

I've tried every thing... soap, water, soap and water... lemon juice, a wash cloth, a scrubbie, shampoo, shower gel, lotion, even bleach.

Now my hands are squeaky clean, silky smooth and they smell like spring flowers... sauteed in onions.

Any suggestions?  I'm willing to try just about anything short of amputation.

p.s.:  We're baby proofing the house... Little Ryott, his mom and brothers are coming to stay with us in a couple of weeks.  Yipee!

Tags: onion odor

IT TAKES A CERTAIN KIND OF PERSON...

How can you screw up on a recipe that only has 6 ingredients?  Simple... just give the recipe to ME!  It was a basic bread recipe, flour, sugar, salt, shortening, water and yeast.  I was doing okay until I got to the yeast part.  I'm not a baker.  I think the last time anyone baked anything in my house was when my sister Lisa was here in March.  I seem to recall her saying something about my jar of yeast being a little old.

That little jar of yeast is now 8 months older.  For some reason I thought that a little pinch more would help just in case the yeast was too old and tired to rise.  Okay, maybe it was a little more than a little pinch, but the yeast was expired by over a year!

The dough was real slow to rise and I waited over 3 hours for it to double in bulk.  The soft dough was giving off a nice, strong yeasty aroma and I dug in to make my manapua.  The dough was real elasticky and when I stretched it out, it almost immediately shrank back to its original shape.  No biggie, I just had to work faster.

I stuffed and shaped them, then steamed them for 20 minutes.  Everyone's mouth was drooling by the time the kitchen timer buzzed.  The bare minimum time allotted for cool down and we dug in.

And then we spit it all out.

The filling was delicious, but the steamed bun tasted like 101 proof Everclear.  Confused I grabbed the ball of unused dough.  Even before I got it close to my face I could smell the fermentation and my eyes began to water from the fumes.

Is that normal?  Is that even possible?

Drunk bread.  I'm sure there's something I can exploit there, maybe a new  taste sensation.  But not for manapua. 

The Oompas went to bed hungry last night.

Tonight = Tobasco Steak.

Well, I've already screwed that one up too. I didn't have enough Tobasco sauce to marinade the meat in so I substituted Franks Hot Sauce.  Hopefully it won't matter too much.

Other wise the Oompas will go to bed hungry again.

(I felt so guilty that I actually got up early this morning on my day off and made them breakfast.)

Incidentally, as I sit here blogging and sipping on a glass of cheap boxed Zinfandel I can't help but notice the similarity in smell and taste of the wine and last night's bread... very interesting!  I'm going to have to try it again, maybe with a garlic topping and a little extra virgin olive oil for dipping.