If I fall into the refrigerated case trying to reach a turkey somebody call for help

So this is what I’ve become. Once the poster child of having things ready ahead of schedule, I’m now the woman that waits until two days before Thanksgiving to do all the grocery shopping for a major meal. A meal that she is hosting complete with a bird big enough for 10 (which is around 16 pounds according to my dad).

I must be insane.

How is it that I’m just now digging out the recipes I need for Thursday so I can compile a grocery list? Why am I making my grocery list on a Monday night? Worse yet, why am I planning on going to the grocery store Tuesday morning before JQ leaves for school?

Am I crazy? What if there is no bird big enough for 10 when I get to the store tomorrow? What if the celery, Idahos, and sweet potatoes are wilted or full of sprouted eyes judging me for waiting so long? How can a vegetable even do that?

The last thing I want to be doing tomorrow is running all over Toledo, Ohio from grocery store to grocery store accumulating the stuff I need for a successful dinner on Thursday. That would suck the life right out of me. I’ve had enough of that over the last four days.

Which is precisely why I’m waiting until two days before Thanksgiving to do all my grocery shopping. Being sick killed all my plans of going to the store for the past three days. No, really. So now I’m off to sort through coupons and compile my giant list.

I better make sure wine is on there.

Mr. Mandarin

Still sick.

Doped up on medication and ready to just sleep. Here’s a photo to occupy your time until I’m coherent enough to write a real post. Crap, that sentence alone was difficult for me to type. So yeah, a photo.

I don’t what I like more, the drop of juice falling from the oranges or the crazy face G-tot is making. They are both scrumptious.


We are out of Kleenex so I’m just using a baby washcloth


Double Ugh. I’m having one of those ultra-sick days today. My nose is completely stuffed, my eyes are runny, my couch is crunchy. I’m achy, tired, and don’t feel like doing a damn thing. My goal is to do as little as possible and plan on staying planted on the couch or in bed most of the day. We have Tropic Thunder and Season 2 of The Flight of the Conchords to watch but even my eyes hurt at this point.

Good times.

And to add to the awesome factor, JQ and G-tot are also a bit under the weather. So we are a house full of germs. A house that I don’t feel like cleaning.

I wonder if this means we can get take-out for dinner?

One more reason I love my bone folder

Thanksgiving is less than a week away, I’m hosting dinner for 10 and I have yet to buy a single item. Hell, I have yet to figure out how big of a turkey I need to feed 10 people. Plus, I have absolutely no room in my freezer for a large bird. Not when it is stuffed full of blueberry waffles, ice cream, and soft pretzels. Mmm…soft pretzels. I have however spent a ridiculous amount of time cutting out and assembling these little paper Thanksgiving characters. So far I have assembled a turkey, a pumpkin, a little Pilgrim boy, and a Native American girl.

I still have the Pilgrim girl and the Native American boy to cut out and assemble along with the Thanksgiving dinner table. Cutting the flat pieces out is a completely tedious task but they are so freakin’ cute when put together that I just can’t stop myself.

Photo 435

Photo 433

Maybe I should get started on the Christmas ones soon. Want to make your own? You can download the flats from Macula. Just don’t forget your exacto knife and glue stick.

The tour was given by Oompa Loompa #1

Recently JQ, G-tot, and I were given a tour of the Firelilly Chocolates factory in Toledo, Ohio. Right now Firelilly makes just one item—the Firelilly Truffle Cone. If you have never had the pleasure of eating a FTC you need to order some immediately. It is this amazing little crunchy waffle cone that is filled with a creamy truffle filling and then hand dipped just slightly in a milk or dark chocolate coverture. They come in six different flavors—Decadent Dark and Peanut Butter are probably my favorite—and all of them are delicious.

Our tour was more than just checking out the factory. It was really experiencing every part of the product. We got to try the cones alone, then a spoonfull each of the warm melted truffle center, then a cone filled with truffle mix and set-up but not yet dipped in the coverture—which we got to try before they were melted down for dipping.

An extremely delicious experience to say the least.

And now I’m a total chocolate snob.

One of our favorite things to do

Playing with Photo Booth can be so much fun.

It’s Captain Featherhands

Wait…no, it’s just a little turkey G-tot and I made this afternoon. Isn’t he cute?


Want to know how we made it?

Supplies: 3 or 4 sheets of construction paper for the feathers (we used 1 each of red, orange, and yellow) & 1 sheet for the body (I had a tan sheet laying around but you could use white and have your child color in the body), glue stick, googly eyes are optional (I just happened to have a pair on hand)

  1. Trace your each of your child’s hands on a single sheet of construction paper.
  2. Stack the other papers you are using for the feather underneath and cut out the hand shapes.
  3. Trace your child’s foot on the paper you are using for the body and cut it out.
  4. Glue the hands (feathers) to the body (foot) from the back.
  5. Fold a scrap of orange construction paper in half and cut out a small triangle (with the bottom of the triangle on the fold). Glue to the body for the beak.
  6. Add googly eyes or use a marker to draw two eyes above the beak.
  7. You could also cut out a waddle from a small scrap of red construction paper and glue it under the beak if you would like.

Voilá! Instant turkey and a nice memory of the size of your child’s hands and feet if you hang on to it after Thanksgiving.

You won’t be in my prayers

I’m not the kind of person that prays much. Religion—of any sort—was never pushed growing up in my house. I’ve only been to church for service a handful of times. So when someone is suffering or has a family member ill, I always feel a little awkward saying “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” What prayers? The ones I won’t say at the beginning of a meal or at the end of the night? The ones I don’t say at that church service I don’t attend? Those prayers?

Then I feel like an insensitive ass when I don’t sign one of the seemingly endless cards that indicate a co-worker or one of their family members have fallen ill—or worse—with “you are in my prayers”. If I get the news via the telephone? I feel like an even bigger ass.

It’s not that I’m being insensitive, I’m just trying to stay true to myself. If I don’t pray I don’t feel like I should declare that I’m keeping someone in my prayers. Right?

So, instead I say,, “I’m keeping you and your family in my thoughts.”

What do you think? Am I crazy? Does this come off as insensitive?

Perfect with hot spiced cider

Today I pulled rocks from the edge of one of the flower beds. I studied slugs, worms, spiders, and centipedes. I popped the heads off of the marigolds before pulling them so I can use the seeds to start my plants again in the spring. I did the same thing with the tangled mess of morning glories and the tiny seeds of the balloon flowers. I put away all the stakes and tomato cages that were standing empty in the garden. I raked and raked the golden leaves from the nearby Norway maple to the curb for pickup. Then I tossed G-tot in the pile.

I love Fall.

I think I’ll stick with the crudites

So, yesterday I went to this function that was held by the Toledo chapter of the AIGA. It was the second in a series of what they are calling a Design Hood. Basically it is an opportunity to go check out the work space of various design firms around town. They open their doors to us for a couple of hours, we get to check out their offices, learn a little about the company, and mingle with our fellow designers. As I mentioned in my post from yesterday I almost didn’t go out of my ridiculous fear of small talk, but I sucked it up and went anyway.

Here’s a little secret—I went because I knew that there would be at least a couple people there that I already knew. Regardless, I went. The space was beautiful—an old sewing machine company with huge open ceilings and wooden floors that still had pieces of needles embedded in them from long ago. The people, of course were talented and ridiculously friendly. The two principles didn’t hide in their offices but instead mingled with everyone there, laughing and joking and giving a great presentation of their company.

In the center of the office is a large prep area with cutting mats, templates, and what every good company should have—a Wii. This prep area shares the room with a really nice kitchenette. For the Design Hood there were several bottles of wine, beer, pop, and a nice spread of finger foods. One of the items in the spread were slices of prosciutto. Not wanting to fix myself a plate, I sort of awkwardly folded and stabbed a piece of the meat onto a toothpick. Then came the tricky part—how to eat it without looking like a savage. Which was not an easy task. The first bite I took sort of pulled and with came more than I was trying to eat. Like a spaghetti noodle. Which we all know is a terrible first date—or in the company of strangers—kind of food. So that was a bit awkward. A few more strategically placed bites and I realized there was no lady-like way to eat this. So I shoved the rest of the piece into my mouth.

Big mistake.

As soon as I started chewing I had flashbacks of my ill-fated experience with a cold scallop appetizer at a bridal fair many years ago. It wasn’t an enjoyable experience and I had to figure out a way to discretely get it out of my mouth and into the nearest waste receptacle. The problem with the prosciutto wasn’t that it tasted bad, it was that there was way too much fat on it and I just couldn’t chew it up. Not without gagging at least. The bigger problem was that I was in a room full of people, the napkins were at least five feet from where I was standing and I had no idea how I was going to pull this off non-chalantly.

So I did my best to not look at anybody or gag as I navigated my way through the crowd to the stack of napkins. Next I did a sort of simultaneous turn and swoop move to get the meat out of my mouth and just hoped that nobody realized what was going on. I stuffed the napkin in my now empty cup—oh how I wish there would have been another swig of wine in that cup—and tossed it into the trash. Then I told the guy next to me not to try the proscuitto.