Fluid Pudding : Page 97 of 123 : It's the old small talk!

Japan, Pickles, and Seasonal Ale

As I pulled up the Add New Post screen, my milkman delivered the goods, meaning my refrigerator now contains fresh milk, along with hummus, pesto, Schlafly Pumpkin Ale, kosher baby dills, a sourdough bread starter, leftover spaghetti and meatballs, and a ton of condiments. Today is Respect for the Aged Day in Japan, so I’m going to hug my cat (who is something like 85 years old if I’m doing the math correctly), and dip a pickle in hummus. Let’s hope it sticks. The hummus to the pickle, that is.

Shall we talk about the Schlafly Pumpkin Ale? Every year our neighbors host a block party, and every year Jeff prepares for the party by heading to the store and purchasing a crazy number of bratwurst, buns, and a six-pack of some sort of seasonal beer. Most often, I drink one or two of the beers, and then I’m good for the next six months. A few years ago he purchased some sort of autumnal Budweiser, and it was very okay. Last year saw me holding a raspberry something or other, and I’m not sure I even finished the first one. The Schlafly Pumpkin Ale? Oh my. I drank only one, but I’ve been thinking fondly of it ever since. (I once had a Schlafly Pumpkin Ale Ice Cream Float, and it still goes down as one of the best desserts I’ve ever had.) I don’t really consider myself to be much of a swiller, but when beer tastes like pumpkin pie, I’m in.

Although I definitely don’t need any more sock yarn, I purchased some sock yarn a few weeks back. AND, if you knit at the correct gauge, ghosts begin to form. The last thing I want to do is become the lady who has a pair of socks for every holiday (Respect for the Aged Day!), but I really couldn’t pass this up.

ETA: Oh! I just sent a bulk e-mail to those who wanted the owl cozy pattern. Please let me know if you wanted it but didn’t get it. Thanks!

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It must have been the soy.

Observation: Yesterday I made a pot of pasta fagioli, but I added soy crumbles instead of ground beef. Within thirty minutes of eating it, I found myself at the school’s Curriculum Night actually socializing with people I had never met. Stranger yet: I wasn’t even wearing my Cocksure Shoes.

Hypothesis: Soy somehow numbs my amygdala, thereby reducing my normal level of social anxiety. (Luckily, my numbed amygdala did NOT stir up any symptoms of hyperorality, which I just learned is a condition in which inappropriate objects are placed in the mouth. That could have been a bit awkward at Curriculum Night! “No, Mrs. Pudding. I don’t need my stapler back. You sort of claimed ownership by sucking on it during my presentation.”)

Alert the scientific journals! Soy inspires charm and eliminates sweaty palms! PLUS, it’s loaded with calcium, iron, and fiber!

I really do love the girls’ school. I love that every kid gets a free breakfast. I love that during their unit on Economics, each second grader will apply for a job, go through training and “work” at their job during a field trip, receive a paycheck, discover the joys of banking, and prioritize their earnings. I love that all kindergarteners are split up into focus groups during the day to work on the things where they might be struggling a bit. I love that Harper now knows the importance of Respect, Responsibility, and Peace—all because it’s part of the school’s creed.

I learned a lot about my kids last night. Specifically, Meredith wants to be a high school cheerleader (or tennis player) who spends her adult life sheltering dogs, and the three wishes she has for her future have nothing to do with ending hunger, eliminating cancer, or striving for peace. It’s all about scoring a dog, a computer, and an iPod.

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Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Owls and Dinners and Roses, etc.

So, I’m thinking this year’s Christmas gifts for teachers will consist of a 16 oz. coffee cup filled with a gift card and surrounded with an owl cozy.

Either that or mittens. It’s a tough decision. Cozies are quicker. Mittens are more useful. Both are equally warm and woolly.

My segues lack novelty: Speaking of tough decisions, about a week ago I threw a crazy fit that had something to do with me being tired of fixing a different dinner for everyone in the house. I’m not eating meat. The girls don’t want to eat what I make for Jeff, and they tend to want only chicken noodle soup or chicken nuggets for dinner, and argh! End of my rope! Jeff, being my hero and all, quickly found a service that puts together meal plans with recipes and shopping lists based on your family’s needs.

And, guess what? We “sold” it to the kids by talking about how fun it’s going to be to eat the same thing for dinner and how it will free up more time for reading and playing games and New Chapter for the Puddings and whatever, and Friday found both of my kids eating meatloaf filled with zucchini and carrots. AND, I’m able to eat the healthy side dishes and keep the vegetarian thing going. $1.25 each week, and everyone is winning. (I apologize if I seem a bit too excited about this. When you’ve gone nearly five years fixing at least three different meals for everyone’s dinner and suddenly everyone has the same stuff on their plate and they’re actually eating it? It makes me dance. And I’m no dancer. I’ll keep their link in my sidebar until I fall out of love with them.)

Finally, do you remember how my parents gave me a lovely rose bush for my birthday and I got all horticultural and replanted it next to our house and it suddenly died? Last week, as everyone in my family was eating pork chops and gravy over egg noodles (!!!), this was happening on the rose bush.

It’s tiny and sort of damaged, but I’ll take it. Also, I distributed over 100 fliers with my neighbor last week, and she thanked me by giving us a hummingbird feeder, which is the most perfect gift because Fliers and Fliers! Anyway, at this moment in time, I’m 100% into the hummingbirds. I’ve already made two batches of food for them, and they’ve promised to not migrate until early November. (I know they’re lying to me, but at least we’re communicating.)

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Please read about my extraordinary family, and follow the links to win all sorts of prizes! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Artwork for Another Mother

Last night I went to a taco slash cupcake gathering and it was just as amazing and fun as it sounds, and when I returned home I found this picture (created on the computer by Harper) sitting on top of my knitting.

As if I wasn’t feeling warm and fuzzy enough, this put me right over the top.

This morning I thanked Harper for the gift.

Me: Harper?

Harp: Yep?

Me: I really love the Mom picture you made for me last night.

Harp: What Mom picture?

Me (holding up the Mom picture): This Mom picture. AND, I love that you wrote “i Love You MommY” across the bottom.

Harp: Oh. Well. Mommy?

Me: Yes?

Harp: I didn’t make that for you. It’s not yours.

Nothing can be assumed in The House of Pudding. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Oh, Barbie…

This morning I went into the girls’ bathroom and found this on the tub.

(I have given the girls permission to throw all Barbies into the bathtub, which means I can throw them all away in a few months when their hair starts to get nasty.) Apparently, this particular Barbie is making the most of her limited amount of time in our house. Seriously: Who can beat a naked duck riding party on a cool Wednesday night in September?

Meanwhile, Barbie’s friend (a.k.a. Barbie) was involved in some sort of devastating holiday duck misadventure.

This sort of behavior will not be tolerated at The Pudding House. She’ll be checking into rehab (a.k.a. The Trash Can) later this afternoon. Without the ducks.
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If that billy goat won’t play, Mama’s gonna keep it anyway.

School started three weeks ago, and because I’m scared to death of having nothing to do, I’ve somehow managed to fill my calendar with arrows and freelance assignments and out-of-character plans like “September 7 – PTO meeting”. While I have your attention, let’s get something straight. Although I live in the United States, where periods tend to fall INSIDE the quotation marks, I actually prefer putting them OUTSIDE the marks—as is supposedly preferred in the United Kingdom. I’m living on the edge over here! Someone send me some cherry bakewells!

Let’s see. I was folding laundry on Friday, and I came across a pair of Jeff’s underpants that were ripped a bit between the elastic and the fabric. SO, Harper and I did what anyone would do. We designed a bunny sling.

The only person in the house who isn’t completely crazy about our brilliant Fruit of the Loom repurposing scheme is Jeff. However, I do believe he’ll come around when he sees that We’re Going to Be Millionaires.

On Saturday, we drove to Springfield to visit my sister and her family. While there, I fell in love with this guy.

Oh, this goat. He was above begging for food. He didn’t try to chew on my shirt. He just wanted to chill out and have his nose scratched. (Confession: While Jeff and the girls created a ruckus, I ran out of the zoo with the goat. He’s currently sitting on the stool next to me doing what goats tend to do—throwing back wheat grass shots and asking questions about html and the embedding of photos. I have no idea what I’m talking about, but I know more than the goat. (He can’t read, and his attention span barely exists. But he’s really cute, and I’ve heard rumors that he can play the tenor saxophone.))

Meanwhile, the girls have decided that we need a dog.

My sister’s dog is crazy and fun and loves to jump around and play ball, and we don’t have anything like that in our house.

(Except for the goat. But that’s our little secret. Ixnay on the Oatgay.)

((Wait. Speaking of Billy Goat (which we really weren’t, right?), I once went to one of their shows. Ah, to be twenty again.))

(((On a semi-related note: Am I too old for Doc Martens? Because just look at these. I’d almost trade the goat for them.)))

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Only one week left!!! Come over here, read about my disaster cake decorating experience, tell me a funny story, and you could win $150! ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

And they all lived together in a crooked little house.

Last week I found myself at the Center for New Health Options for a bit of Physical Therapy, if you know what I’m saying. (I’m saying that my back has been bothering me for nearly three months, and our insurance covers physical therapy. They do NOT cover a new mattress. They DO cover 80% of an IUD installation, and I’ll be doing that on September 15th! Hello there!) After the paperwork was filled out and the proper introductions were made, Catherine, my therapist, took me back into an exam room to work up a general evaluation.

Catherine: Just stand against the wall, and I’m going to take some notes about your posture. Do you want me to tell you what I find as I go?

Me (Feeling curiously naked, yet fully clothed. In sweats!): Sure! Let’s hear it!

Catherine: Your left hip is slightly higher than your right hip, and as a result, your left leg looks slightly shorter than the right leg. Your arms hang in front of your body instead of to the sides. That’s because you are slightly hunched over. Your left shoulder is a bit higher than your right, and your head and neck are sitting about a half inch to an inch off-center toward the right shoulder.

Me: CrookedGirlSaysWhat?!

Catherine: Yep. Let me take you to a mirror so you can see what I’m talking about.

We walked to a room down the hall where Catherine stood me in front of a huge mirror and once again pointed out my slants, slopes, tilts, and warps. Before the appointment, I had never noticed just how crooked I am. But now it’s all I can see.

This is me on the outside, and if you look closely, you can see how my neck and head are choosing to side with my right shoulder. (It’s a mirror image, so right is right.) Also, please know that my skin is the same color as the wood on the bathroom door, and my dress matches the walls! You come and go, karma chameleon!:

This is me on the inside, sitting on a chair in our dining room and thinking about peach pie. Tis the season, you know!:

(I used to think of myself as being a bit Rubenesque. Now? I’m a total Picasso.)

After I came to grips with being all asymmetrical in awkward places, Catherine put me on a table where we engaged in myofascial release, which is quite an amazing thing. (Picture yourself lying down with someone’s hands in your mouth. Suddenly, you begin to feel the sensation of butter melting in your head. Your neck is no longer aching. We are in Xanadu.)

I’ve been approved for five more visits, one of which will involve the stretching out of my C-section and appendectomy scars. (I’ve been told to wear shorts. At this point in time, I don’t own a pair of shorts. Things are about to get Very Interesting.)
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My jeans play fast and loose.

This is what I know: You can take an ear of corn (including the husk and silk and all other corn-related anatomy) and cook it in the microwave on high for three and a half minutes. Take it out (carefully, because it’s really crazy hot), remove outer corn-related things, and what you have left is a perfect corn on the cob. (I’ve been boiling pots of water for years. Wait. I’ve been boiling pots of water for EARS! HA HA HA HA HA!!! Now I can make single servings! Suddenly, everything’s coming up roses.)

This is what I think: Harper’s kindergarten teacher signs all of her correspondence with Love, MFB. When you’re expecting a Sincerely and you get a Love? It’s sort of a pleasant surprise.

This is what I’m wearing: Last week I found myself at Old Navy for the first time in several years. I’ve grown tired of wearing t-shirts with skirts every single day, so I decided to buy A Shirt. I ended up with this one (the red flowered version). I also bought a pair of denim capris, because they were super cheap. This morning I put the jeans on and noticed that the inside of the waistband holds the words The Flirt. I will be extra careful while wearing these jeans, because I cringe at the thought of waking up in an emergency room to a bunch of medical professionals yelling, “Ah! It seems that The Flirt is opening her eyes! Ask The Flirt how many fingers I’m holding up! The Flirt’s O2 Sat is looking a bit coquettish!”

This is what could change my life: On Wednesday, I’ll be kicking off my 40-day Inner Mean Girl Cleanse. When my 40 days are up, I might be putting flowers in my hair and using the L word a lot more. Or maybe not. Perhaps my Inner Mean Girl (I believe her name is Sam. I used to drink beer and introduce myself as Sam. Thank God those days are over. Wait a second. The Flirt! My Inner Flirt is a boozehound!) will fight the cleanse and October will find me looking a bit like this. Either way, things could get interesting. Or maybe not!

This is what I’m eating: Sushi for lunch and Indian for dinner, Lee Greenwood.
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Baboons are intelligent and crafty. And so am I!

It appears that a baboon could possibly be on the loose in a nearby town, so I thought I would check in with you to let you know that although my garage door is closed, I’m secretly hoping for a baboon visit. Believe it or not, I have a banana in my purse. (I went to my mom’s colonoscopy this morning, and I didn’t have time to eat breakfast before I left the house. I bought a perfect bunch of bananas yesterday, so there you have it. Breakfast! By the time I got to the hospital the procedure was over (Damnit!), so I packed up my banana and joined my mom and dad for breakfast at a nearby restaurant. (I had an English muffin with blackberry jam! And a chai to go!)) Anyway, Baboon? It’s lunch time, and I Have a Safe Place for You.

The girls are currently attending their fourth day of school. I could sing songs about the first three days, but are you really interested in that? Here’s a ten second preview: Meredith was Monday’s Music MVP, and Harper has made a new friend named Keeley, who tends to purchase her lunch in the cafeteria instead of bringing it from home.

While the girls are away at school, it seems that I’ve been filling my time in the following ways:
1. Freelance. There have been a few bumps in the road, but it looks like Freelance and I are going to get along just fine.

2. I made a curried vegetable thing in the CrockPot. It wasn’t very good, but it felt healthy and smart. Carrots! Potatoes! Tomatoes! Chickpeas!

3. I mopped the bathroom floor, did several loads of laundry, and tried to draw myself eating a gyro.

4. I’m once again knitting on my Linden, and I’ve set the goal of wearing it this winter.

5. I noticed that many of my Facebook friends have wildly different views than me, and I’d like to see the world for once all standing hand in hand and hear them echo through the hills for peace throughout the land.

6. I bought the latest Sarah McLachlan CD, and this morning as I drank my chai while driving with the windows down (the threat of Wild Baboon had not yet been announced), Loving You is Easy came on and suddenly I had the perfect three minutes.
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What happened to the Danny Zuko I met at the beach?

My youngest partner in crime is now spending her days in kindergarten.

Her older sister is right down the hall in the second grade.

Although they have no idea who Rizzo is, I’m sure they would appreciate that whole “We’re gonna rule the school!” thing.

Harper: If it’s okay, I want to take an apple to school for the teacher.
Me: It’s fine with me if you really want to.
Harper: I do. And for her birthday, if we have enough money, I’d like to buy her a very nice rug.

I was fine throughout the morning. I was completely under control as we pulled up to the drop off and the coach opened the door to let the girls out of the car. And then I turned the iPod onto Shuffle, and I Will Remember You started to play. I thought about my friend who dropped her son off at his new dormitory this weekend. I thought about another friend whose daughter just flew to Haiti to teach for a year. I rolled down my window, quickly tossed the iPod onto the street, and continued on to the store where I purchased the makings for our traditional First Day of School After School Snack—refrigerated graham crackers with chocolate icing.

Five more hours until I get to pick them up.

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