tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6091684327326261622024-02-06T22:29:03.179-08:00What's With Those Gingers?Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-29713906765529265302012-07-23T13:51:00.001-07:002012-07-23T14:05:28.525-07:00Jack's Robot BirthdayI know...it's the end of July. I'm a busy lady! <br />
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Jack's Second Birthday Party was fabulous! Jack's Mimi and PopPop came out from Cleveland to celebrate his birthday (and maybe Mr. Ginger's MA from Virginia Tech, too!) Robots ruled the roost as we celebrated with about 100 amazing friends and relatives. Thanks to a lot of help and a great photographer (Mrs. Kate Yoon) here are some pics of our best party yet!<br />
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Invitations by Papers in Bloom's Jamie Gatchell</div>
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Because a good wife knows that the way to a man's heart is through beer. Karl Strauss "Endless Summer Light" on tap<br />
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Getting Dressed<br />
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Handsome Gingers!<br />
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Robot Fuel</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">labels downloaded from: <a href="http://blog.hwtm.com/2011/02/modern-robot-birthday-party-free-printables/">http://blog.hwtm.com/2011/02/modern-robot-birthday-party-free-printables/</a></span><br />
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Mimi and PopPop</div>
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Love the shoe falling!</div>
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The Grandkids</div>
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This lady knows how to have fun!</div>
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Family Glamour Shots</div>
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"Hey!"<br />
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LOVE!<br />
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Coloring table for the kids</div>
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Aunt Mint screen printing t-shirts for party favors</div>
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Girls just wanna have fun!</div>
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Red Frosting. Rookie Mistake!</div>
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RoboCakes</div>
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<br />Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-63512180664986033382012-03-07T12:38:00.001-08:002012-03-07T12:38:58.677-08:00Lunch Box Brownies (with Peanut Butter Swirls) -10 Points!Oh. My. Goodness. Or should I say, Oh. My. Brownies. Because, these brownies? They ARE goodness. I chose these as my hosting recipe because a very special someone, we'll call him The Boy, loves Peanut Butter and Chocolate. Yes. That is properly capitalized. <br />
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FYI, The Boy is a sweet young thing who happens to be dating my sister via Skype these days. It's not creepy, he's just a Marine and he may or may not be living somewhere distant right now. Before he left for his extended desert holiday, he requested something PB/Chocolate. Who am I to say no to the face of an angel? Seriously. Skin like an earthworm. Soooo jealous.<br />
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Ok, so about me. I am 30, I live in San Diego, I used to teach Special Ed but I decided I'd rather stay home with my wild Ginger Baby, and I started a daycare to help pay the bills whilst I play with The Dude. I joined my cousin-in-law, <a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/">Amanda of Girl+Food=Love</a> in her<a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/p/bake-52.html"> Bake 52</a> adventure. Sadly, I'm running behind and will need a hiatus for a bit after this post. We are mid-construction and I'm embarking on a super special vacation to Mauritius (Google it) for two weeks. Hence, no baking. I joined Bake 52 because I really miss baking/cooking. I kind of fell off the domestic wagon when I got pregnant and was completely disinterested in food for 8 weeks. Then we moved and had home repairs. Then I started teaching Special Ed and had about negative 5 hours in each day. My change of pace was the perfect opportunity to start enjoying the cooking/baking process again.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Home Repairs or "Why I'm Having a Hard Time Baking: This is My Dining Room"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Place I'm Going Where I'm Pretty Sure I Won't be Baking, But I'm Pretty Sure The Baking So Far Has Done Me No Good As Far As Bathing Suits Go.</span></div>
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So, without further ado, her is the AMAZING recipe for Lunchbox brownies from our Bake 52 cookbook, <span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1933615222/ref=as_li_tf_il?ie=UTF8&tag=gifolo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399373&creativeASIN=1933615222">The America's Test Kitchen Family B</a></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1933615222/ref=as_li_tf_il?ie=UTF8&tag=gifolo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399373&creativeASIN=1933615222" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">aking Book</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Page 205.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lunchbox Brownies: Peanut Butter Swirl Variation</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ingredients:</span><br />
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1 stick unsalted butter<br />
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped coarse<br />
2/3 C. (3<sup>1/4 </sup> ounces) all-purpose flour<br />
1/2 tsp. baking powder<br />
1/4 tsp. salt<br />
1 C. (7 oz.) sugar<br />
2 large eggs<br />
1 tsp. vanilla extract<br />
1/3 C. Peanut Butter<br />
Optional: Wine for keeping you cool in a hot kitchen, if you're into that sort of thing. Which I am.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Directions:</span><br />
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1. Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 350°. Line an 8 in. square baking pan with foil sling and grease foil. Melt the butter and chocolate together in microwave, stirring often, 1-3 min. Let mixture cool slightly.<br />
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* See my <a href="http://whatswiththosegingers.blogspot.com/2012/02/7-layer-bars-10-points.html">previous post</a> on foil slings. I skipped the sling and just greased my pan with Baker's Joy. Here's a picture of my foil sling blooper #2.<br />
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">2. In medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt. </span></div>
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In a large bowl whisk together sugar, eggs and vanilla. </div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Whisk in the melted chocolate mixture until combined. Stir in the flour mixture until just incorporated. </span>
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3. Scrape batter into prepared pan, drop peanut butter in small dollops over batter in baking pan. Run butter knife through batter to create swirls. Bake the brownies until a toothpick comes out with a few moist crumbs attached (22-27 minutes.) Rotate pan halfway through baking.<br />
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4. Set pan on a wire rack and let brownies cool completely in the pan. Remove using foil sling (or invert on a plate, like I did.) Cut into squares and serve!<br />
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These were such a hit that I forgot to take a final picture. Luckily a few had remained safe and I was able to snap a picture using a friend's iPhone before we ate them! So much for looking like <a href="http://lowdownblog.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/january-jones-gq09-14.jpg">this</a> in my swim suit next week!<br />
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Please check out these other lovely ladies' efforts and find a variation that suits your taste!<br />
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</script>Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-52652811491656561802012-02-08T08:59:00.000-08:002012-02-08T08:59:41.193-08:00Challah! 9 pointsThis was my first real bread recipe ever. I've made loaves from the frozen dough you buy at the store, but I usually manage to botch one out of the three of those. I was really nervous to attempt making dough in my Kitchen Aid mixer. I'm realizing that this must be why people spend zillions of dollars on them. I loved it before this, but now? Whoa. Big crush. Huge. In eight minutes my mixer managed to do a minimum of thirty "by-hand" minutes. Considering I made this during nap time, I was impressed! I had a beautiful ball of dough.<br />
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I let my dough rise, and it took forever. It must have been chillier in my house than I thought.<br />
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Eventually, I turned my oven on to 170° and then turned it off and placed my bowl of dough inside the oven. This helped my dough to rise beautifully. Maybe too beautifully. In a panic, I made a fatal error. I didn't do the second rise because I thought I had let it rise too much in the first place. I rolled it out, braided it, and got ready to bake.<br />
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Oops. Although my bread looks beautiful, it isn't the right texture for challah. Honestly, I only know what it should taste like because I used to stop at Einstein Bros. Bagels like, 4 times/week on my way to work before I changed routes and became a Starbucks junkie. I don't love bagels, so I always ordered my egg and cheese breakfast sandwich on the challah bread. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be light, fluffy and just slightly chewy. My challah is dense and heavy. Luckily, it still tastes really good and makes great toast!<br />
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Here's why I give this recipe 9 points despite the fact that my actual loaf is closer to a 5 pointer.<br />
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1) I loved the book's cheater method for creating the super-fancy braid. My bread looks awesome, and anyone who doesn't read this post will think I know what I'm doing.<br />
2) The ingredients weren't crazy, so I am totally willing to make this again. I don't feel bad for ruining it, because it's not like I threw away $15 on ingredients. This makes it a "safe" recipe. I can keep trying until I get it right. And maybe once I am successful, I will be able to transfer my new skills over to more complicated loaves.<br />
3) As we've discussed, I'm not HUGE on sweets, but who doesn't need bread? Ok, maybe not people on GF diets. We go through a lot of bread in my house what with having a daycare where PBJs rule the universe. In addition, both Mr. Ginger and The Dude love their simple carbs. Sometimes The Dude just wanders through the house signing/saying, "bread" over and over. He doesn't even need anything on the bread. Just bread.<br />
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My first attempt at from scratch bread was not exactly a roaring success but it was good. I learned from my mistakes and next time I will be more patient with my dough. If you think you might need to finally start using your Stand Mixer to it's full potential, check out the original recipe from this week's <a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/p/bake-52.html">Bake 52</a> hostess, Jenn at<a href="http://www.zollyzoo.com/inthekitchen/2012/02/08/bake-52-week-6-challah/"> Zolly Zoo in the Kitchen</a> and challah back at me to let me know how it goes. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)<br />
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This week's blooper:<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My first rope died a slow painful death.</span></div>
<br />Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-41247723541523250412012-02-02T14:16:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:55:08.671-08:007 Layer Bars 10 pointsGuess what? 7 Layer Bars are a dream. They are everything good. If we could find a way to add some cheese to these bad boys, I'm pretty sure the Earth would stop rotating.
Aunt Mint made these yesterday while I did some grocery shopping and all-around errand running. I asked her to guest post, but she declined. We invited "The Boy" over for dinner and served these for desert with just a touch of red wine for the boys and champers for the girls. Divine. Heavenly. Superb. Toffee, chocolate, more chocolate, coconut, sweetened condensed milk, rice krispies and graham crackers. Oh. And butter. Mmmm.....
Since I cheated and didn't actually make them, I can only say that she burned the coconut three times, refused to use a foil sling based on the term alone, and that we only used one can(actually a squeeze bottle from Trader Joe's)of sweetened condensed milk. After reading posts from the other <a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/p/bake-52-crew.html">Bake 52ers</a>, the jury seems to be split as to whether the bars are better with one or two cans of the milk. For us, the drier option was perfect. There's a serious wet bread phobia around our house. <i>*Try to visualize me crossing my fingers that nobody picks bread pudding as her recipe.* </i>If you can't swing by my house to help me get rid of these things and save some calories, I highly recommend you bake them yourself. Check out <a href="http://http//diariesofacookaholic.blogspot.com/2012/02/bake-52-week-5-7-layer-bars.html">Ms. Jesse's blog post</a> for the entire recipe.
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<!-- end InLinkz script -->Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-89206345579999421552012-02-02T13:54:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:20:39.508-08:00Light New York Cheesecake 8 points (plus apology)Dear Light New York Cheesecake from Week 4,
I am sorry. Call me Perez Hilton. I was immature. I shouldn't have taken my poorly timed baking out on you. It's not your fault I puked cheesecake.
I took said cheesecake to Harajuku Mommy's house a few days after making it. I told them not to feel obligated about eating it, since I was sure it was terrible. They ate it. The whole thing. Every bite. In under 12 hours. They claim it is the best cheesecake they have ever eaten and that it is no way detectably light.
So, once again, I'm sorry Light New York Cheesecake. Rumor has it you're pretty awesome.
Love,
LizMrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-59924859774940937332012-01-25T14:10:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:20:48.276-08:00Light New York Cheesecake Pie 5 pointsLuckily, only one of the recipes from our Bake 52 group have interested me so far. I say "luckily" because I am currently on a good <i>final 10 pounds of baby-weight be gone</i> plan. I attribute this to stronger coffee and this crazy weird blend of Omega oils I've been taking. Shooting 3 tablespoons of oil/day is bad enough. If I had any interest in the things I've been baking, the oil shooters would be for naught. So, really, I should give this cheesecake a 10. 5 points for the recipe and 5 bonus points for being unattractive. I should also mention that I don't have a spring form pan and was way too tired to go out and get one. Some of the other members of the Bake 52 club mentioned using a pie plate. I bought a Le Creuset pie plate at Marshalls for $12 about three years ago. I still feel like I need to justify buying it since I don't like pie and, until quiche, had never made one.<br />
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There was a time that I loved cheesecake. That time was about 20 years ago. My Aunt Piggy (No jab here, she is a beautiful lady. But I remember thinking she had the same name as Miss Piggy, but she was my aunt hence Aunt Piggy. Turns out her name is Peggy. With an e.) and her husband took me to Bobby McGee's for dinner. For anyone familiar with the Greater Los Angeles Area, this is now commonly known as BJ's off of Olive Ave and the 5 Fwy. But back then it was Bobby McGee's and that was a song Aunt Piggy sang a lot so I thought this was pretty magical. After dinner she ordered a slice of cheesecake for us to share. When the cheesecake arrived, my uncle was on a bit of a diatribe about how L.A. was full of plastic people. I dug into my cheesecake, not really understanding what exactly plastic surgery was. When I asked he replied, "It's how they make your body parts over. Jesus, you could have your ears sewn onto your ass these days." In response, my Aunt Piggy lifted one cheek off the seat and said, "What's that? I couldn't hear you." I died. Cheesecake went up my nose and down my windpipe all at the same time. I puked on the table, in my lap, and the whole way to the bathroom. Forgive me if I don't have any interest in cheesecake whatsoever. <br />
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Besides being a less than tempting treat for me personally, nobody else in my house likes cheesecake either. I went into this week knowing that even if I managed to bake the best light cheesecake known to man, it would not be appreciated. In fact, I almost didn't bake it at all. We had family in town this weekend and we had been eating out a lot. Cheesecake sounded even less desirable than it usually would. But I had already bought the ingredients and I felt guilt slacking so early on in the year. Mr. Ginger had class last night, so I went for it. It sucked. I can honestly say I did not enjoy this project in the least. Cheesecake is the bitchier cousin to <a href="http://www.whatswiththosegingers.blogspot.com/2012/01/quiche-5-points.html">quiche</a>. All of the par-baking and cooling, and wrapping and refrigerating and sitting and waiting. Ugh. Suck it up and just be dessert, already! In fact, that pain in my butt is still sitting in my refrigerator in the garage because I truly do not care enough to finish the whole ordeal. Once again, I would like to state that any beef I have with a recipe is all on me. I don't blame the<a href="http://otherthingsnice.blogspot.com/2012/01/bake-52-week-4.html"> recipe</a>, the book or the hostess (Ms. Talesha of <span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">www.<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 16px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">otherthingsnice.blogspot.com</span></span>) in any way, shape, or form. Once you see her post about this week's recipe, you will understand. It's not the cheesecake. It's me.<br />
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I tried to do a better job of photographing my experience for this week's challenge. I'm mostly just convinced that I need a new camera for making pretty pictures like all of those crafty ladies on Pinterest mange to take. If anyone has a hand-me-down their looking to pawn, let me know!<br />
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Here's how I began. See? I really did start out trying! Here is Red Flag #1 that cheesecake and I weren't compatible. I had to drain cottage cheese for 30 minutes before I could begin. Red Flag #2? Yogurt Cheese. I consider myself something of a yogurt snob and I live in San Diego. It's not like finding weird ingredients is hard. Except for yogurt cheese. Turns out Greek Yogurt works just fine. Whew.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-amOglVdysPL3UkYN794_cvcHR0VncQt5SYiHrFEOG40WChwecuWsXfbmmv0P-oOygbu2tiNr-l5iqA-h9pSnysdYP3spE13kYV6973uaEwH_h-gH_ef4yno0wRwnGvRxzSQcBsWqocR/s1600/DSCN2894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-amOglVdysPL3UkYN794_cvcHR0VncQt5SYiHrFEOG40WChwecuWsXfbmmv0P-oOygbu2tiNr-l5iqA-h9pSnysdYP3spE13kYV6973uaEwH_h-gH_ef4yno0wRwnGvRxzSQcBsWqocR/s640/DSCN2894.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Next, I made crust. I will admit, this is my kind of crust. E-A-S-Y. Had the recipe stopped here, I might have been on board.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Finished Crust</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1bryCyhkPI0d39XOSgeLQDwCrUvlUCDItXt9XA5eHOjXFlyrXxbgwMtq74yXgDqcF5nHP87iy17oHqdzSLWjQJQco4BPK-czNGLQ6-WUuoKXp00guWz529DXoqCUc1K4waHkPCWIOw14/s1600/DSCN2898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY1bryCyhkPI0d39XOSgeLQDwCrUvlUCDItXt9XA5eHOjXFlyrXxbgwMtq74yXgDqcF5nHP87iy17oHqdzSLWjQJQco4BPK-czNGLQ6-WUuoKXp00guWz529DXoqCUc1K4waHkPCWIOw14/s640/DSCN2898.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">Next I blended and blended and blended all of the wet ingredients. I was feeling pretty swanky for having fresh Meyer Lemon zest from my own yard.</span>
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Since I made my cheesecake in a pie plate, I had a lot left over. I tried no-crust cheesecake cups.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My Mostly Naked Sous Chef, The Dude.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The Final Product</span></div>
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I have a good feeling about next week. I think it's going to be a recipe that I can really sink my teeth into (get it?) Keep an eye out for 7-Layer Bars. Yummmm.<br />
If you think the Bake 52 idea is pretty cool, despite my inability to execute most recipes properly, check out the other (more skilled) bakers in our group!
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</script>Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-89571025809673090742012-01-18T07:32:00.000-08:002012-02-02T14:20:59.198-08:00Boston Cream Cupcakes 8 points (by proxy)"I don't love custard unless it is frozen," she types, as her heart heaves and pangs of sorrow shoot through her body. "It's freezing cold down here in this basement of mine, but sweet heaven above what I would do to a <a href="http://www.thecustardstore.com/Site/Welcome.html">Nielsen's</a> milkshake right now." <br />
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But moving on... When I saw that these cupcakes would require homemade custard, I really stopped caring about the cupcakes and focused on how I could turn the pastry custard in to frozen custard. Boston Cream anything mostly makes me feel a little funny in my gag reflex area, so these weren't all that motivating for me. But, I plugged along with the indispensable help of Aunt Mint, who took over custard duty and then created a superb glaze. (Note: We did this during nap time. We are kind of like super-heroes, but lamer and in yoga pants instead of flame-retardant Kevlar tights.) I baked the cakes, filled, and glazed. I was convinced that I had destroyed the cakes by the time they came out of the oven The batter was so weirdly frothy before baking that when they came out more like individual shortcakes, I almost gave up. Luckily Mint looked at the pictures in the cookbook (brilliant!) and pointed out that my cakes looked identical to their cakes. Score! We cored the cooled cakes, fed the middles to our mouths and The Dude, and filled those bad boys up with (gag) Boston Cream. The glaze really turned things around for me, though. We didn't have bittersweet chocolate like the recipe calls for, so we used Ghirardelli semi-sweets that were left over from making blondies last week (a blondie is what I call dessert! These things were divine!) The glaze turned out perfectly! And in the microwave, too! No double boiler, constant stirring, etc. Just throw some sticky, calorie laden items into a sweet vintage Pyrex bowl and stir. Done! I really enjoyed glazing the cakes. It made me feel super fancy and skilled. I think I will give up teaching, daycare, parenting, wifery and breathing in order to pursue a career at Sprinkles as a froster. I figure it's still a step-up from my original dream career of wanting to be the person who poured Slurpees at 7-11. I lived in Huntington, Utah. I didn't know that patrons pour their own Slurpees. I was out of a job before I ever had one. Bummer.<br />
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I didn't mind any one of this recipes components alone. But when you put them together it is like they meld into my word nightmare. Gooey, moist, sticky, glorified donuts. However, Aunt Mint, The Dude, and Mr. Ginger all agreed that these cakes are something special. Since I clearly cannot be objective, I have to trust their ratings. Even Grandma Steve, who like me, is not a custard, pastry-type lady enjoyed one. <br />
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You should know that I have a lot of guilt for not being able to wax poetic about these cupcakes. In all fairness, the recipe isn't terribly difficult, the cakes turn out beautifully, the custard tastes nice, the glaze is delectable, and they present like a dream. The final consensus? I'm a little bit insane, and pastry dose nothing for me. You, however, should try these cupcakes. Even if you don't live in Boston. Here is the <a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/2012/01/bake-52-boston-cream-cupcakes.html">recipe</a>, courtesy of my lovely cousin, <a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/">Mrs. Amanda Tatton</a>.<br />
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<br />Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-21399504096941723302012-01-10T19:14:00.000-08:002012-01-11T09:29:36.426-08:00Bran is Not Sexy. Bran Muffins- 8 points<i>Bran Muffin</i>. This does not conjure images of busty women smoking cigarettes in black and white film noir alleys. It does not make one long for her college days and that steamy summer fling in Puerto Vallarta (I have never been, personally, but it seems like a great place for college-aged girls to make steamy bad choices). Bran Muffin. Nope. Nothing. I think of old people. And poop. Let's be honest. Does anyone <i>not</i> think of poop when they hear "bran muffin." You're a liar. Yes you do. In fact, Harajuku Mommy just stopped by to pick up the Harajuku Girl, and she was stoked to see bran muffins coming out of the oven. "Yeahhhh. I'm taking one of these and a cup of coffee on my way to work tomorrow!" See? Poop. <br />
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Mr. Ginger loves muffins. He would leave me for a well baked, over sized muffin with some kind of fruit inside and those huge sugar crystals on top. Fair enough. I'd leave him for the perfect cheese. No hard feelings here. But he does not like a bran muffin. So when I told him this week's recipe was poo muffins, he said, "Nooooo. Can't you make something good?" Sorry <a href="http://sugarcoatedsaga.blogspot.com/">Valerie</a>, I thought they were a great idea.<br />
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Anyway, fast forward to the muffins. Not nearly as hard to bake as my procrastination assumed they would be. I decided to mix up the original recipe,<a href="http://sugarcoatedsaga.blogspot.com/2012/01/week-2-bran-muffins.html"> found here</a>, by adding raisins, craisins, and dried apples. I figured the more fruit variety the better. I guess a Raisin, Cranberry, Apple Muffin sounds better than bran. Braaaaaannnnn. It's like the word bran hails from the Midwest or something. <br />
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I followed the directions, threw them in the oven and voila! Muffins! I can't claim they are as good as a Henry's Bran Muffin or a Starbucks Bran Muffin, but I would venture to say they are probably healthier. And really, if you're eating a bran muffin in the first place you're probably under the delusion of being healthy. Somehow my recipe yielded more than the book said it would. I ended up with 12 regular muffins, 12 mini muffins, and 2 ginormous muffins. Mr. Ginger and Harajuku Mommy raved! I feel pretty good about this since Mr. Ginger was so down-trodden over bran being the pick of the week. I don't think it hurt that I was wearing my apron, mascara, and earrings all on the same day. I think I may have blown his mind with my June Cleavage, er, Cleaver.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasU5XHBIAsE_3zZXAnTqWCK_0R83LGCuCN15EwRn55hch6cTnKW97tuzAF4xZ6iBBwMbHmYOpbRuMO58W0sX-8mti8Zqtr4zrwCPGlgV8vSHy58qcsblzIpsgXd3tf2pmI97tYa186lkO/s1600/2012-01-10+18.11.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgasU5XHBIAsE_3zZXAnTqWCK_0R83LGCuCN15EwRn55hch6cTnKW97tuzAF4xZ6iBBwMbHmYOpbRuMO58W0sX-8mti8Zqtr4zrwCPGlgV8vSHy58qcsblzIpsgXd3tf2pmI97tYa186lkO/s640/2012-01-10+18.11.28.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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Once again, I didn't do the best of jobs taking pictures. The Dude has an ear infection and a bad attitude and was screaming at me the entire time. Perhaps my greatest feat today was not so much defying all logic by making a delicious poop muffin, but managing to hold strong and follow through with proper behavior modification techniques in attempt to break my child of tantrums. By the third time he came out of his room, he said, "Hi Mom. Good? Eat? Nice?" I guess he figured out that he needed to eat without throwing food at the dogs and that screaming at one's mother is not nice. Or maybe his tiny little 20 month old brain forgot what he was so pissed off about in the first place, and he smelled baked goods (kid loves muffins. Maybe more than his dad does.) Maybe that's what led to the change in attitude. Don't care. Doesn't matter. <br />
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Happy Baby. Happy Husband. Happy Colon. <br />
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These muffins earn an 8.Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-5122267216616692892012-01-04T10:00:00.000-08:002012-01-04T12:30:01.487-08:00Quiche- 5 points<div style="text-align: left;">As part of the "Feed the Gingers" New Year Resolution, I have joined <a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/316495195034532/">Bake 52</a>. For each of the Bake 52 recipes I bake this year, I will award 0-10 points. The points awarded will be based on ease, success, taste, appearance and popularity among my testers. This is completely subjective and most likely unfair to the recipes. Our first recipe comes courtesy of Ms. Clare Petersen Utley at <a href="mailto:Tylerandclare@blogspot.com">Tylerandclare@blogspot.com</a> and our fabulous Bake 52 cookbook, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1933615222/ref=as_li_tf_il?ie=UTF8&tag=gifolo-20&linkCode=as2&camp=217145&creative=399373&creativeASIN=1933615222">The America's Test Kitchen Family Baking Book</a>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuODj2O-axe0snVPmK-lctgW65ve2UysdrbhGX7e3qtA_CG0IwUkhQdNHxhA85gvr9FwPHkbY0myYGisIO2CP9etxt5fqGGzZhDh2vrIYSb1-2NnVARm0ZUFsnP5Zz3DGLTb0bjjWjNoaF/s1600/DSCN2879.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuODj2O-axe0snVPmK-lctgW65ve2UysdrbhGX7e3qtA_CG0IwUkhQdNHxhA85gvr9FwPHkbY0myYGisIO2CP9etxt5fqGGzZhDh2vrIYSb1-2NnVARm0ZUFsnP5Zz3DGLTb0bjjWjNoaF/s640/DSCN2879.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I was terrified to make quiche, so naturally I decided to bake it for Christmas breakfast. If it was going to bomb, I wanted everyone to suffer. On Christmas Eve I made the crust, which was my first point of error. I made the cheater crust because I have never ever ever made a crust before and I was intimidated. Although the easy crust from the book was super yummy, it is most likely a pie crust. Like, fruit or chocolate pie, not egg/spinach/feta pie. But whatever. It worked. Quiche has a lot of rules. Quiche is like a stuck up sorority freshman at an Ivy League school. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">"Don't make it too early. Don't let it sit too long, but it needs to sit for HOURS before eating. The crust needs to be warm when you add the eggs. Not TOO warm... great! You ruin everything!"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Anyway, after crunching the numbers in my head, I realized that breakfast quiche requires you to wake up early, so I did everything I could to prep it the night before. I still had to get up early on Christmas Day (who am I kidding? We have a toddler. We were up.) Luckily my sweet Mr. Ginger remember the delicate nature of a quiche's temperament, probably from being married to me, and preheated the oven before 7:00 a.m. Good thing too, because my Bailey's and Coffee had not kicked in and I surely was not thinking of pastry. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Whilst Ms. Prissy Pants Quiche baked, we opened presents and look what Grandma Steve got me!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">I am classy lass to say the least, and I FINALLY have oven mitts and an apron. I opened them just in time to remove Her Ladyship Quiche from the oven. As you can see from the first picture, the crust got a little too brown on the edges. Other than that and the sweet crust issue, it was better than I would have expected. The filling was lovely and I'm not sure I can find fault with anything eggy, cheesy AND spinachy. I am not sure I'll be making it again anytime soon, though. If I make a quiche it will be <a href="http://www.realsimple.com/food-recipes/browse-all-recipes/simple-spinach-quiche-10000001720026/index.html">this one</a> from Real Simple:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"> <img alt="Simple Spinach Quiche" height="400" src="http://img4.realsimple.com/images/food-recipes/recipe-collections/0804/quiche_300.jpg" width="335" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Mr. Ginger and I have made this one a few times and it is fool-proof. LOVE. But, it isn't exactly gratifying the way that baking something utterly self-righteous is. All in all, we're off to a good start! Happy New Year, y'all!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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</div>Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-17126166421195653072011-11-25T16:21:00.001-08:002011-11-25T17:29:29.887-08:00New Year's Resolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mojito Cake</span></td></tr>
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I really miss cooking and baking. Back in NoVA I cooked all kinds of fun stuff. At one point, Miss Mississippi and I had an unofficial "bake-off" going. My specialties included Mojito Cake, Plum Port Tart, Cheesy Cauliflower Soup, Shepherd's Pie and Tikka Masala (ok- that may have been Mr. Ginger's specialty.) Point being, we moved, I got knocked up which led to lots of food aversions, and then Grandma Steve started cooking in bulk so that I could survive what I fondly think of as the Dark Age and... I stopped cooking. But I love, love, love to cook. It's so therapeutic and rewarding. I love using all of the gadgets and experimenting with interesting ingredients. When I bought the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/CakeLove-How-Bake-Cakes-Scratch/dp/B002HREKKK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1322269360&sr=8-1">Cake Love cookbook, </a>I read the entire thing because Warren Brown not only provides the recipes to his cult classics, but he also includes lots of cooking and baking lessons between cakes. If you have never experienced a <a href="http://www.cakelove.com/">Cake Love cake</a>, I highly recommend a trip to D.C. If that's not feasible, just order the cookbook. You'll be glad you did. <br />
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Now that I am a WAHM (work at home mom, in case you're checking me out in the singles ads), I want to get back into the habit of cooking. Most days Grandma Steve comes over to help with daycare, and sometime around 2:00 pm she says, "So what should I make you for dinner?" Is this awesome? Yes. Are you jealous? More than likely. And although I by no means plan to stop taking advantage of this glorious situation, I need to get back into the swing of things. The reason my mom is the best cook ever is because she cooks. I want the Dude to refer to me as the best (or maybe second best) cook ever, so I think I'd better step up my game. <br />
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Here's the plan:<br />
1) I am going to participate in my cousin's baking club called <a href="http://girlplusfood.blogspot.com/p/bake-52.html">Bake 52</a>. When it is my turn to host, I will blog here about the recipe I have chosen. Every other week I will post pictures/comments to that host's blog. This means that in 2012 I will bake at least 52 items. That's probably more recipes than I have cooked and baked in the last year combined! <br />
2) I am going to attempt to cook at least one vegetarian recipe per week. If you have any suggestions, please let me have them because this is a big goal for a carnivore like me and other than Cooking Light I don't know where to start.<br />
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So, a month early, here is my official and public New Year's Resolution. I am going to cook. Often. And if you bring the wine, I'll feed you.Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-79702366000769520132011-11-11T12:42:00.001-08:002011-11-23T10:29:26.326-08:00Fall. Autumn. Also know as the segue between Hot and Cold. Fall is like...it's like when your hot chocolate gets too cold drink as hot chocolate, but it's still too warm to talk yourself into believing it's just chocolate milk. Or, maybe it's like when you have the flu and you have a fever so you know you need to cool off, but you're somehow freezing and you just want to crawl into bed and shove a blow dryer under the covers near your feet. It's this weird in between season that doesn't really have that much to offer. School is in full swing, there aren't many vacation days happening, the sun starts to disappear and your body starts to crave everything cream and butter just when you drop a pants size. No? You don't feel that way? You think Fall is amazing? Huh. That's weird. I'm pretty sure Fall is just the price we have to pay for Summer and Christmas, but to each his own. <br />
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Here in San Diego, Fall is both Indian Summer and cold/flu/allergy season. The Santa Ana's blow through and dry everyone out, but at least we get to bask in a few stolen days (ok, weeks) of hot hot heat when we know deep down inside we should be wearing boots and scarves and attractive hats. In October we had three, maybe four, really cold rainy days and in my haste I put all of the Dude's shorts away. I promptly pulled them back out when the thermometer reached 80°. <br />
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For a few years now I have been trying really hard to jump on the Fall bandwagon. I think that eventually it will happen. (I'm simultaneously trying to learn to love a Bloody Mary, and I wonder if the two could maybe join forces to help foster a love for one another other?) I love Halloween (which was like, 78° here) and I think soup is the perfect food. Those two factors alone are not altogether a bad jumping off point. It is slowly growing on me. I think my relationship with Fall will progress as my waistline widens. So here is my game plan for loving Fall:<br />
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1. Make Persimmon Cake again (did this once when we were part of a CSA, and ate the whole thing- I was pregnant. Back off.)<br />
2. Craft the perfect Mulled Wine<br />
3. Take more pictures of the Dude being adorable in knitted outfits and other absurd baby sundry.<br />
4. Spend more time on Pintrest looking at cool Fall crap that I won't ever actually make myself.<br />
5. Start a not necessarily Fall tradition that is 100% fail proof awesome and schedule it for Fall so that it becomes a Fall Tradition and I can feel like I cheated the system. (i.e. Wine Tasting)<br />
6. Buy some skinny jeans and a pair of Frye boots to stuff them into.<br />
7. Continue NOT teaching, in which case Fall does not represent the loss of freedom. <br />
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This year Fall looks pretty promising. Here is what a GingerWeaver Autumn looks like so far...<br />
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Xerox Gingers at the Pumpkin Patch</div>
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Not loving the slide with Aunt Mint</div>
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Grandma Steve and Grandpa MacGyver</div>
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Hi-Five to Ice Cream!</div>
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"Will this llama help keep the weeds down?"</div>
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Brad and Janet GingerWeaver</div>
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Aunt Columbia</div>
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Mini-Mummy Bites</div>
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Pizza Ghoulies</div>
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Grandpa "Goose" and Grandma Nature</div>
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IncrediGingers</div>
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<br />Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-21525591996691658482011-11-07T21:20:00.000-08:002011-11-07T21:20:19.492-08:00Anyone want to go camping? Last chance...Let me first start by saying that I am perfectly aware that I lead a charmed life. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ok</span>. Now onto the post.<br />
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We love our house. It is the Brady Bunch Dream House. Maybe not as swanky or pink as what Barbie landed, but we have plenty of fake brick and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">faux</span>-rock accented walls. Join us for s'mores around our avocado green, mosaic tiled, round fire pit which is fully loaded with two electric burners and a 1978 Susan B. Anthony for effect. Take that Barbie. What we DON'T love is that our house floods. Every. Time. It. Rains. Don't believe that "It never rains in Southern California" <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">malarkey</span>, either. I have the pictures to prove otherwise. You see, the guy we bought from (we'll refer to him as Douche) is well, a douche. He did a helluva job covering up every last little bit of evidence that would show signs of water damage/flooding. Oh yeah. I'm totally calling Mike Holmes.*</div>
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Anyway- after months of work by our amazing attorney, Uncle Esquire, the fate of our home repairs lie within Douche's ridiculously large, terribly expensive but not terribly valuable, 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span> wheel toy hauler. You know what I don't need in my East County driveway right after I've died my hair pink? The only thing worse might be a Fox Racing tattoo.</div>
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But guess what?! Wednesday is the day that we get rid of the Beast. It's on Ebay with no reserve. We want it gone. And come Wednesday, I will once again be able to change The Dude's diaper in the morning without staring at a 40 foot reminder that life is not fair. You can be a lowlife liar, who is fiscally irresponsible and still walk away with no real ramifications. He wasn't sad to give us this thing. He couldn't afford the insurance or registration anymore and it was about to get repo'd. And that's when I stop to remember. Karma's a bitch. He may not have had to fork over the cash it will cost us to fix this house, but he's definitely paying the piper. I have this awesome house and he has a pending bankruptcy, an ugly divorce, an estranged daughter, a failed business and a $500 hitch he doesn't need. Am I happy? No. I'm not. His misfortune doesn't lessen my burdens nor does it bring me joy or a feeling of justice. But it does put things into perspective. <br />
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This really is a fantastic house. We can have killer parties here and The Dude gets to play in a huge backyard. I have 10 different vegetables and fruits growing in my gorgeous raised beds. The dogs have opportunities to catch bunnies and gophers (but that's another blog post altogether) and someday I will have a chicken coop. I make lavender lemonade from the Meyer lemons in my backyard. Sometimes coyotes wake us up at 4 a.m. And yet, I'm about 15 miles from the ocean and 20 minutes from just about anywhere in San Diego. It is as perfect for us as anything could be. I'm not thrilled at the idea of ripping out my driveway and the amount of money it will cost to "fix" the problems correctly. But it really isn't so bad, and on Wednesday it'll be even better. Life is good. After all, not everyone has a coin collection embedded in their masonry.<br />
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*Turns out Mike is pretty popular, and therefor rather busy. There are also some filming regulations or something so they only film in Canada. At least I tried to "Make it Right."</div>Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-14851311352219669192011-10-08T12:35:00.000-07:002011-10-08T12:35:17.069-07:00Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and ThymeWell, actually, I have basil, oregano, rosemary, and lavender; but Paul and Art really have a way with words, so why fix what ain't broke?<br />
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I have a kick-ass herb garden. We bought some tiny little potted herbs at the Farmers Market in April and wowza! They have really taken off! Or maybe more like taken over. My basil is more of a tree than anything and the oregano looks like a monster from a cheesy drive-in horror film from the 1950's. The lavender is beautiful, but sadly it is not the culinary variety, so we'll have to remedy that. Rosemary is awesome, especially since my friend just told me that when it gets bigger I can use the woody stems as skewers. The question is, what the flock do you do with all these herbs once you've got 'em? I have big pesto plans for the basil. But what about oregano? It seems like it's just sort of an afterthought in Italian-American crock-pot meals. So, please, enlighten me if you've got a clue. In the meantime I think I'll just keep looking at them and feeling super cool for not killing them. <br />
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It's October and in addition to the herbs, I have a watermelon vine growing! Over the summer I was watching this brilliant little guy who was going into 4th grade. Oddly enough, he didn't want to hang out down in toddler-ville. I hit up JoAnn's looking for projects and I stumbled upon this watermelon starter kit for like, $3 on clearance. He planted the seeds, tended them and no kidding, they lived. I was pretty shocked that they sprouted in the first place, so I was ready to call it a successful venture. Einstein, however, was not ready to be done. The next day I transplanted them into the herb garden and waited for them to die, thanking the stars above that school was almost ready to start up. Can you believe it has actually sprouted a blossom?! Granted, the last time I checked, watermelons are not a winter harvest, so I'm not going to hold out for mini-melons like the box claims I will have. Regardless, I'm still pretty enraptured by this tiny yellow flower that greets me every morning!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The blossom is hiding today.</td></tr>
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After my recent success as a laissez faire gardener, I am convinced that I can grow real vegetables and fruits in my backyard. I live in San Diego, so it's not like there's going to be a big snow or anything, right? Mr. Ginger is outside building me the fanciest, most beautiful, and eartquake resistant raised beds you ever did see. (He might be picking up a few traits from the Weird Dude, my dad. You ever heard the expression "A rowboat built like a steam ship"?) By the end of this weekend I will have three redwood planter beds. I am thrilled! I have visions of The Dude walking out back to pick a tomato or eating raspberries fresh from the garden. Ahhh suburbian heaven! The only problem? I have no idea what to plant, when to plant it, or what to do once it starts to grow. Clearly I need to go scour the interweb for a local gardening blog, or maybe go buy a few books, or stalk the only other person I know who has raised beds. Maybe I'm a natural born plant grower and my instincts will bring us plethora of produce. Or maybe herbs are just tasty weeds and I had better start researching. <br />
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<br />Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-30221403467399277242011-08-25T19:41:00.001-07:002011-10-08T13:21:07.253-07:00Glory DaysIt's amazing how nothing <i>really</i> changes. Take tonight for example. I could, arguably, still be in college. <br />
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1.My significant other has a night class so I'm home alone for the evening. </div>
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2.I have just cleaned up someone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">else's</span> mess off the carpet, </div>
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3.I'm drinking wine and eating a Lean Pocket for dinner. </div>
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4.All I can hear right now is someone moaning and the thumping of a bed against the wall. </div>
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Here's what's really happening:<br />
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1.Mister Ginger has a night class for which the VA pays him a pretty penny upon completion. </div>
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2.I gave the Dude some apple oatmeal for dinner (big treat) and gave him a bath. On the way to his room he bent over to pick up his favorite yellow ball and proceeded to shit on the freshly steamed carpet. Then he <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">smooshed</span> it. After screaming at the dogs to leave the poop alone, I hauled the Dude in for bath #2 (it's not funny.) <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ok</span>. I get the dude in his crib with two <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">binkys</span>, two bears a mini weird fuzzy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">blankie</span> thing that resembles a glad rag from your local sex shop, and a real <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">blankie</span>. Oh. And the plastic innards of a Glow-Worm. He goes to sleep so i get ready to clean up <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Poopapalooza</span>. I have to call Grandma Steve to figure out why the machine isn't working. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ok</span>. Done. Shit. The machine woke up the Dude. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ok</span>, fine. Talk to Grandma Steve. Take two on the bedtime. </div>
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3. A little crying, but mellow so I go open a bottle of wine. White. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Yummmm</span>.... What to eat, what to eat? I don't even want to eat, but I'm terrified of getting shitty when I'm alone with the Dude, so I must eat. Screw this. Lean Pocket it is. Seriously? More crying? All I wan to do is drink a glass of wine, fold about 900 loads of laundry and watch some Gossip Girl on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Netfilx</span>. </div>
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4.So here I sit, waiting for the wailing and thumping to stop whilst I eat my Lean Pocket (really 300 calories? Is that lean???) The worst part? It's an Italian Meatball Lean Pocket. Everyone knows that's really a red wine kind of meal. Sigh. Wish me luck on round three of bedtime.</div>
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Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-55528849130576919392011-08-16T11:38:00.000-07:002011-10-08T13:17:47.908-07:00Pumpkin Chip "Muffins"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbahmOZ2jTrEwfF2hePnyy21ctEE-E1Csjw2Tg3Z-3bXK9wbf-7vdB99Aq4uwBnDqk5zGWkJIQW9RCSaSg0__ElrSSuoVuRFPZLFSZ6Tes4fwYDcqjuYIltWMkrrwHPcJL4dW4DfXvggEq/s1600/images.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641537995147065858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbahmOZ2jTrEwfF2hePnyy21ctEE-E1Csjw2Tg3Z-3bXK9wbf-7vdB99Aq4uwBnDqk5zGWkJIQW9RCSaSg0__ElrSSuoVuRFPZLFSZ6Tes4fwYDcqjuYIltWMkrrwHPcJL4dW4DfXvggEq/s320/images.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 183px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 275px;" /></a>
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I love summer. Actually I love Summer with a capital S. Summer is my best friend. So, you can imagine that I like to hold off on all things apple, pumpkin, spice, etc. until mid-November at the earliest. In my world, Halloween is the end of Summer. This is partly because I'm delusional, partly because I'm stubborn, and partly because I grew up in Southern California where Summer has a mind of her own. Last year in San Diego we had no summer. The year before that I spent Thanksgiving pregnant and sweating because our turkey dinner was cooked indoors despite 87° weather. (p.s. The two Virginia years were rough for me. Ask anyone who witnessed my ineptitude doing recess duty in a tank top and sandals amid falling leaves and snow. It was ugly.) I, therefore, choose to believe in the Endless Summer.
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Back to the muffins. Big Sissy had just been down for a visit, and the Little Sissy asked her about the "magical muffins." I'm sure many of you are familiar. It's apparently a Weight Watchers kind of deal, but it doesn't seem believable that these would be diet approved. Fast forward a week when Little Sissy and I have The Chick and The Dude and no projects planned. Enter emergency Pumpkin Chip Muffins to the rescue. Yum. Pumpkin is now allowed if, and only if, I have two hungry toddlers in my charge and no animal crackers in sight. I'm having a sordid love affair with one right now. I'm singing Brobee's "Party in My Tummy" song in my head as I type. I'm talented like that. Here's the recipe and directions on how to keep munchkins happy in the process of making them. Enjoy!
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Ingredients:
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2 boxes of Spice Cake
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1 large can (30 oz.) of pumpkin (NOT pie filling!)
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1 bag (12 oz.) of mini-chocolate chips
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLhhwu0I6vO65feLvlWg8Vh5vSmZz1K52eVHGoXMyhqWA2cfWIEmGuN2GuQVxA7HXxkjVTbyzJAZX0TjhQrCqU4V49C0NGjFMjn3lSQhuLptU7iW_PN5AJFEImS0Jmuni5jYv35PF2SAM/s1600/DSCN2377.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641536487260761410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLhhwu0I6vO65feLvlWg8Vh5vSmZz1K52eVHGoXMyhqWA2cfWIEmGuN2GuQVxA7HXxkjVTbyzJAZX0TjhQrCqU4V49C0NGjFMjn3lSQhuLptU7iW_PN5AJFEImS0Jmuni5jYv35PF2SAM/s320/DSCN2377.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Step 1: Get naked. Pour cake mixes into a bowl and stir to break up any clumps.
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Step 2: Pour mini-chips into bowl and mix well.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVg7z7M0EqBvv-hs5aspEpTz5gs5J_bmpWPfmlmz2UxQ-9nSn1vj0z746ZhyCbO7iblBibqDGIayRNWICvKL_hz89_GZHz3SE78FYjHXyiP9Lb1yWgOjiBKsXvpdP2dloTyT3EipBPIp0/s1600/DSCN2383.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641536764337193746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZVg7z7M0EqBvv-hs5aspEpTz5gs5J_bmpWPfmlmz2UxQ-9nSn1vj0z746ZhyCbO7iblBibqDGIayRNWICvKL_hz89_GZHz3SE78FYjHXyiP9Lb1yWgOjiBKsXvpdP2dloTyT3EipBPIp0/s320/DSCN2383.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a></div>
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Step 3: Clean up any fallen chips.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3aJsJaS_k5vSwJksgCKd18Pkz2i4ntQgWhF0qSFy-0oxuUEXT51COOzQu0kJpV1tpDKPCj6jEhedzMhcutWuvgjvRuja2nqBdwX3IKxgJvoX9AzT96dIhlvyXDE5WLLEIXqGxkZoTH-o/s1600/DSCN2388.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641537980024845746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3aJsJaS_k5vSwJksgCKd18Pkz2i4ntQgWhF0qSFy-0oxuUEXT51COOzQu0kJpV1tpDKPCj6jEhedzMhcutWuvgjvRuja2nqBdwX3IKxgJvoX9AzT96dIhlvyXDE5WLLEIXqGxkZoTH-o/s320/DSCN2388.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a>Step 4: Don a party hat.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqxACiULCWJ2sHsFnC7zk4bp98nfmZ5M7biPE_TiVUBgpheAcckygnz8ifstdGQSxIfVRC1hYylWvIG0QhnKhmas0UrGkVUt53RAUywY8imiSutBlycriEqi_oOnl8jY-OrrXb2VAuuug/s1600/DSCN2387.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641537978555555682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqxACiULCWJ2sHsFnC7zk4bp98nfmZ5M7biPE_TiVUBgpheAcckygnz8ifstdGQSxIfVRC1hYylWvIG0QhnKhmas0UrGkVUt53RAUywY8imiSutBlycriEqi_oOnl8jY-OrrXb2VAuuug/s320/DSCN2387.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 240px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a>Step 5: Mix pumpkin into dry mix. It ain't easy. No you don't need more pumpkin. I called to confirm this with Big Sissy. She said, "It'll get better." It did, after about 50 calories burned from stirring.</div>
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Step 6: Bake at 350° for 20-25 minutes depending on your oven.. You know the drill- check 'em at 20 minutes with a toothpick. If they don't scream, they're done.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8fi6K4BB4Okba81gywLOZZMy4Lo_yfrZbnMpzfoM8xn51UNn-i13ze4HDXA1mXIdS_gZHtQNDayIoA0YeYaYu9Y4TXon-HPIiLNsp-qNlFRT7VU1xzNnBh3q1VYTmunI9BqaqYtzj2Be/s1600/DSCN2389.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641537992394767346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8fi6K4BB4Okba81gywLOZZMy4Lo_yfrZbnMpzfoM8xn51UNn-i13ze4HDXA1mXIdS_gZHtQNDayIoA0YeYaYu9Y4TXon-HPIiLNsp-qNlFRT7VU1xzNnBh3q1VYTmunI9BqaqYtzj2Be/s320/DSCN2389.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 240px;" /></a></div>
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Step 7: Celebrate and share a bite with your puppies. Try to make it a non-chocolaty bite, but that's almost impossible with these treats!<br />
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Photo Credit: The first image is not mine. I never got a pic of the final product, mostly because we were scarfing them down in a not-so-Weight Watchers like fashion. This picture is pretty close, although they claim to be cookies. It's from this blog: <a href="http://deliciousdixie.blogspot.com/2010/10/pumpkin-chocolate-chip-cookies.html">http://deliciousdixie.blogspot.com/2010/10/pumpkin-chocolate-chip-cookies.html</a></div>
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Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-88304521371106201062011-08-09T09:33:00.000-07:002011-10-08T13:18:39.058-07:00My FartToday I am still finding myself randomly brought to tears thinking of my high school friend, Lisa, who lost her little baby girl Sunday night.
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After a raucous night of meatloaf and Jeopardy at The Padres house we brought The Dude into bed to snuggle for a bit (which we can only do when he falls asleep in the car, because he's a no-snug zone when he is concious) and I took some time to smell him. That may sound weird for you Freebirds aka unparents, but when they are brand new babies, we spend hours and hours sniffing their new baby heads. The scent is absolutely intoxicating. It's like olfactory Oxicontin. As Don Draper's ex-mistress, turned beatnik, turned heroin junkie said, “It’s like drinking a hundred bottles of whiskey while someone licks your tits.” Ok, quite frankly, I don't like whiskey and having my boobs "licked" kind of just makes me think of nursing our special needs dog, Poppy, but it's the hyperbole that's important here.
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Well, The Dude doesn't smell like he used to. It's not so much the heroin-like baby deliciousness. He kind of has this milky, Cheerios, wet dog, sweaty, pee smell by 8:00pm and if we have been at Grandma Steve's house for dinner and skipped bathtime, well, he goes to bed nasty. Call me unfit. Call me gross. Call me tired. But last night, last night, I held him as close as he would let me before wriggling free. I breathed in the stench of that sweaty little boy's scalp so deep that I thought my lungs would give out. And then he thrashed about until he positioned himself as the little spoon to my big spoon, and he yawned a huge yawn. It was gorgeous. It brought tears to my eyes. And then he farted on me.
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I love that fart. I will always remember that fart. It was a fart just for me, and I'll take it.Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-34562105701792606712011-08-06T09:09:00.000-07:002011-10-08T13:19:41.599-07:00The Blob<div>
Yesterday I was watching The Harajuku Girls and when the Harajuku Mommy came to get them, she touched up the hot pink stripes in my hair. Sweet. Except it was almost dinner time, and I really didn't want to go wash my hair. You KNOW how I hate to wash my hair. So 3 hours later, I rinsed it out. I no longer have pink stripes. I have a pink blob. Oh yeah. I have a fancy wedding today at 5:30pm. Why am I so stupid?</div>
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**UPDATE**<br />
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Don't worry kids. Hair+fancy wedding crisis averted. Sissy and I went to do the make-up for Sissy's friend, Bridezilla, and it turns out we aren't going to this Shit Show after all.<br />
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p.s. Thank you for loaning me the lilac dream dress anyway, Miss Mississippi. You are a dream. I may still find a way to wear it because it is so divine.Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-609168432732626162.post-89120240130407489582011-08-04T09:13:00.000-07:002011-08-04T09:29:20.189-07:00To Do ListMy To Do List includes the following:<br /><br />1. Make dinner. Like for real. Like, actually take raw food and cook it <em>before</em> The Bob gets home. <br />2. Fold the diapers that I hid because the daycare inspector guy was inspecting.<br />3. Buy paint for the downstairs even though my mom forbade me to paint it, which btw, how come I'm 30 years old and I'm sneaking behind my mom's back to paint my own house? Oh yeah. Because she's smarter and scarier than me. And if I can't even get off my ass to fold diapers and make dinner I probably don't need to paint 1300 sq. ft. of house. But I'm doing it anyway. And by I'm doing it, I mean I'm trading the next door neighbor, "Muno," a week of babysitting for painting.<br />4. Figure out how to paint house without mom knowing.<br />5. Sew some reusable Swiffer Wet Jet pads out of old diapers that are too small to hold the massive amounts of pee and poop that my child generates. I should probably learn how to sew first. Or, maybe I can buy The Sissy lunch and she'll do it for me.<br />6. Celebrate, once again, that I am indeed NOT a special ed teacher anymore and that I am not getting ready to write the first slew of IEPs of the season. Eff yeah. I love my life!<br />7. Find some kids to enroll in the now officially licensed day care that we're opening this fall. <br /><br /><br />I should probably go get another cup of coffee and think about my list for a while and wonder why nothing gets done around here.Mrs. Ginger Weaverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07869254761414856715noreply@blogger.com1