When Porter was a puppy, he barked. And barked. And barked. As a result, Tom sat him down, had a very serious talk with him, and explained that he was only allowed to bark at terrorists. Problem solved. Except that he thinks everyone (and their dog) is a terrorist. And now that we live on the East coast – squirrels, apparently. As a result, I generally either ignore the barking, or try to get him to stop – which works, oh – 2% of the time.
So on Friday, when he out-of-the-blue started freaking out, I just assumed he’d seen a squirrel trying to bomb the house, and ignored him. But when I went out to get the mail a few minutes later, I found what I’m pretty sure was the trigger for the barking:
Our enormous Oak had lost a branch, that luckily did minimal damage to the cars.
When I was a teenager, our neighbors had a large branch that was starting to tear from the tree in their front yard, and they parked their car under it – on purpose – hoping it would fall and they’d get the insurance money. I not only really like our cars, but we own two of them, so there wouldn’t be any insurance money. This was definitely not planned. Unfortunately, parking under the Oak is unavoidable since we only have a 1-car garage. I’m glad no one was out there to get hurt, and maybe we’ll make sure the Cherokee stays closest to the tree – just in case.
My cousin Ruth came to spend some time away from The City (New York City, to be exact) this weekend. I’m pretty sure Harrisburg was not her first choice of idyllic-getaways, but I lured her here with the promise of free maternity clothes and baby-snuggling-time.
Ella can not stop talking about “takin Cousin Roof to the festibal.” She accompanies me to the train/bus station to pick up our guest.
Ruth is adorably pregnant. I remember feeling that way – it only lasted for about 3 weeks, but it was nice.
As we drive through the ghetto, to get home, Ruth mentions that Harrisburg is cute. Only a New Yorker would say that our ghetto is cute, but I love my town, so it makes me smile.
Our first night is spent eating dinner on the covered porch, talking about babies and family. Ella can’t stop saying HI COUSIN ROOF!
The next day, all the girls embark on a mission to get Ruth registered for baby stuff.
Luckily, she has me to tell her all about the stuff she doesn’t need.
She has two screaming children to help her enjoy the fact that the baby is still inside her – where there is no screaming.
After dinner, we head down to Harrisburg’s Music Festival.
We find a small carousel and ask Ella if she wants to ride it. She says yes.
Tom buys the ticket. Ella refuses to ride the carousel.
We abandon the carnival area to find the music.
The choices were: Hip Hop Hour, or Celtic Rock.
I find it terrible that we have to chose between the two, but despite our recent expedition to the Celtic festival, we abandon Hip Hop Hour for bagpipes.
We settle down on the grass and I start to feed Sophie. The initial start of the music startles her but when the bagpipes start, she smiles.
Ella discovers that Ruth will indulge her in repetitive silliness. She gives her a huge hug – a new best friend perhaps?
At what age does peek-a-boo stop being funny? Apparently not 2 1/2.
Giggling is infectious.
I pass Sophie off to Daddy. She immediately spits up.
The bagpipes start again, Sophie smiles.
Daddy brings out his Blackberry.
Sophie smiles even bigger and starts to reach for it. A future addict?
This band is not nearly as good as the ones we saw at the Celtic festival, but is different and fun. The lead singer seems to have some rage issues, but it works.
After the mini-concert is over, we start our way to the river-walk for the fireworks.
Island music is catchy- screaming toddler is not.
After sitting on concrete for too long, and finding out the fireworks would not start for another 45 minutes, we decide to head home.
I accidentally kill a firefly in the car-ride home – it makes a popping sound and then lights up – this is the totality of our 4th of July fireworks.
Tom makes a wonderful breakfast the next morning and too soon it’s time to take Ruth back to the bus station.
Ella comes along to say goodbye.
Hugs and promises to return the visit, and she’s on her way back to The Big Apple.
Ella tells me that she doesn’t want Cousin Roof to go. I ask her if she wants to go with Ruth to New York. She says yes. I agree that it sounds like fun, but I need more closet space than we can afford there.
We drive home through our cute ghetto and enjoy the last of our holiday weekend with a game of peek-a-boo.
On Thursday, I went out and picked our first official harvest from our garden (not including the basil I’ve been using for weeks). A cucumber and some lovely baby squash. My excitement level may have been disproportionate to the actual event, but I still get happy fuzzies whenever I eat something I grew. We marinated the cucumber in vinegar with tomatoes and sprinkled dill weed over the top. The squash were grilled with onions and steak, and were definitely my favorite part of the meal. I’m already eyeing several more to be harvested in the next day or two.
Tonight before heading down to the music festival, we’ll be enjoying Tom’s fresh salsa with our dinner, made with our first jalepenos. In a week or so, I should have tomatoes ready as well. I want to show Ella how to spot the ripe ones, and have her try the tiny yellow pear variety, straight from the garden. I”ll never forget the lessons I learned from my mother about how rewarding gardening can be – I hope I can do the same with her.
I’ve been putting off joining Weight Watchers again – desperately hoping the weight would just magically disappear. And actually, a lot of it did. I wouldn’t say it was magic – but I’m down to about 5 lbs above my pre-pregnancy weight. Except that I’m not sure where it all disappeared from – because although I can zip up my skinny jeans, I certainly can not breath in them, and there is this very suspicious roll hanging out over the waist-band. It doesn’t matter how good my Sevens make my butt look if I’m carrying an inner-tube around under my shirt.
I had a lot of reasons for pushing back my start date – our trip to Utah, Kari and Will visiting, Father’s Day – that giant apple pie we bought from Costco. But I knew the time had come to buckle down and start having some control again. As long as we were not counting points, certain things kept appearing in the cupboard…
And although certain things were bought by a Certain Someone (who’s name rhymes with Dom) another Certain Someone (who shall remain nameless) has no self control when it comes to Tastiness.
So on Sunday, I signed myself up for WW and finally admitted that I need help to get to where I want to be with this body. And I put in a goal that will hopefully take me to not only fitting in The Jeans, but maybe even a smaller pair. I can’t say that I’m super excited to be making this “lifestyle change” (it’s not a diet!) again – I really, really like pie. And cake. And I love brownies. But I’m less thrilled about the weight – and I can handle having brownies only once every month or two. I think.
Last year we attended The Celtic Fling that’s held every summer on the Renaissance Faire grounds. We had no idea there would be so much music there, or that we would enjoy it as much as we did. This year, it was just a given that we’d go, and the music was the main reason behind attending. Several of the bands were repeats from the first year, but there were a handful of new ones as well, including one featuring a didgeridoo and a cover of Pink Flyod’s, The Wall. We also heard covers from Johnny Cash and They Might Be Giants mixed in with traditional Celtic music.
I was really excited to see that they had a couple of pipe bands this year, something that was missing previously. I don’t know if it’s because the festival is mainly geared toward the Irish, or if there just aren’t a lot of pipe bands in the Central PA area – who knows. They really pumped up the fact that this was the first year ever that they would feature the bands in a “pipe-off.” One band was supposed to play, and then the other would come back with, supposedly, a bigger and better song. I was all sorts of excited – I really miss playing in a pipe band and I love watching competitions.
Yeah. The first song was Scotland The Brave. No disrespect or anything, but that has got to be the most boring song. Maybe it’s because we had to play it over and over and over…and over, when we did parades and competitions, but it doesn’t exactly get me excited. The next song was a little more promising, but then everything went downhill from there, including the other band doing their own rousing rendition of STB. Maybe with a year to practice, they can figure out something else to play next time.
The music was definitely the main draw for us, but there were other things to enjoy. Like an entire family dressed up like pirates, perhaps. Or the woman who was doing face painting in a leather corset that was not exactly holding everything in its proper place. Or the lady belly dancing in the aisles at the Scythian concert. And then there were a few things that were not so enjoyable…like the creepy guy who stared at me the entire time I was breastfeeding Sophie – I kept checking to make sure I was all covered up and tried giving him the evil eye. Didn’t work. Or the old couple that Tom saw making out during the Enter The Haggis concert. Good times.
By about six o’clock, I could tell the girls were bushed. The festival was still going strong with a group concert coming up at seven. Tom and I looked at each other and decided to pack it in. We joked that these kids were really holding us down from our partying ways, but I was exhausted too, so we headed out on our long hike to the car.
As I was unpacking the stroller, I asked Ella if she had a good time. She rubbed her eyes and said, “Yeah. Where we goin’ next?” “Home,” I said. “No, Mom – we go to another festival!” Tom jokingly asked if she wanted to go to the after-party. Her eyes lit up – “yeah!” I guess we’re the ones holding her back – we are now officially old.
There are so many of my childhood memories attached to Michael Jackson’s music. My intense disappointment when the glitter washed off the glove of my MJ sweatshirt. Vincent Price’s voice on Thriller – terrifying but entrancing. Singing The Girl Is Mine with my sisters – I always chose to be Michael. Pretending I was the P.Y.T. Never letting my sister, Maiken, live down the one time she said “Big Cheese” instead of “Billy Jean”….
His life was obviously chaotic, to say the least, but there is no denying the power of his music and performing. I figured it was time to introduce a new generation. My moonwalk leaves a lot to be desired, but teaching it to Ella made me forget my head cold for a few minutes while celebrating the King of Pop.
I wanted Sophie to have a matching outfit to the one I recently made for Ella – but I didn’t want it to be exactly the same, so I used the same fabric but found a different pattern. This one took longer just because of other things going on, and despite the fact that the pattern was pretty simple, sewing baby clothes is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Teeny, tiny armholes = much cursing and grumbling. If you look at them, and a few other key spots, you can see a whole mess of random mistakes and “creative” sewing, but overall, I think it turned out adorable. And it helps that the baby inside the outfit is pretty cute too.
Today was a long, long day. And I’m hoping that it can be officially over very soon. Sophie has gone to bed, but is still fussing now and then so I’m waiting for my turn to crash for a little bit longer. I woke up feeling like I got hit with a truck. A big, ugly, gas-guzzling truck with a gun rack on the back window. I can’t be sick again. I had a cold a few weeks ago and I feel like I just got over it. Plus, it’s hard to avoid the spreading of germs to your baby when she’s attached to you for at least 3/4 of the day, and a sick baby is no fun at all.
At one point we were all laying down (myself, Ella, Sophie, and of course, Porter) having some Tummy Time together. Sophie hates Tummy Time, so I like to get down there with her and try to distract her from the horror of Not Being Held. I was so exhausted that I was taking some pretty long blinks in between encouraging words. And then, all of a sudden – Plop. She rolled over.
She rolled over! Granted, tummy to back is easier than the other way around, but – she rolled over! High fives all around, and then Ella showed us how she could roll over too. More high fives. Mom’s turn. Porter refused to join in – such a party-pooper. Of course, 30 seconds later, Sophie realized no one was touching her and started screaming. And then Ella joined in, and this time, Porter did too. No more high fives – just eye twitching.
Luckily, Tom is wonderful and made dinner, followed by cake and home-made pistachio icecream. And Ella’s refusal to sleep during nap time today at least got me 2 whole minutes of tired snuggling before she realized what was happening and ran away to do something BY MYSELF! Now all I need is some sleep. More than 4 continuous hours would be ideal, but I’ll take what I can get.
This is one of the easiest recipes I make. It does require a little forethought because you use a slow-cooker – I have a tendency to forget and wait too late to start everything. I got the original recipe from a woman I worked with – we used to have once-a-week team lunches where we’d cook something and eat together – this was my favorite. I did modify it to be a little healthier, and then I kicked it up a few notches by coming up with a solution to my cravings for chile rellenos.
I took a few pictures this time, to help illustrate. I’m such a sucker for a cookbook with lots of photos – I figure I’m probably not the only one.
2 boneless skinless chicken breast halves (fresh or frozen)
1 jar of red salsa – any heat preference
1 cup of shredded Mexican blend or Monterey Jack cheese
1/2 cup of fat free sour cream (you can’t taste the difference – trust me!)
1 can of black beans, drained and rinsed (optional)
1 can of yellow corn, drained, or half a bag of frozen (optional)
Tortillas (I prefer corn because they’re healthier but flour work too – 3-4 small corn or flour per person, or 2 large flour per person should work.)
If you want to try the stuffed chiles, add:
1 cup of cheese, for a total of 2 cups
Pablano or Anaheim peppers – either work, I usually bet on 1 pablano per person, or 2 anaheims, sometimes 3 if they are really small.
(Depending on how many people you’re feeding, you’ll probably have extra filling if you do the peppers, so a small bag of tortillas will still come in handy for lunch leftovers the next day.)
DIRECTIONS
In the morning, dump your chicken breasts, trimmed of any fat, into the slow-cooker with the entire jar of salsa. Cook on low for 6-8 hrs or high for 4 hrs.
Shred chicken with forks, in crockpot.
Add black beans and corn, if desired, and let cook for another 20 minutes.
If you’re sticking to the tacos, warm your tortillas by either popping them in a warm oven, wrapped in tinfoil, or brown them in a dry skillet over medium-high heat and place in tinfoil to keep warm.
Turn slow-cooker off.
Add 1 cup of cheese and the 1/2 cup of sour cream. Stir.
For tacos/burritos, fill your tortillas and enjoy. We like to serve this with Spanish rice, chips, salsa and guacamole.
If you’re feeling adventurous and want to try the stuffed chiles, continue on…
Turn your broiler on.
Place the chiles on a baking sheet (I usually line mine with tinfoil for easy cleanup) and put them about 6 inches from the broiler.
Do not leave them alone! I usually crack the oven and just watch. You’re looking for the skins to blacken – when they start to bubble and get dark, turn them a quarter turn and then repeat until the entire pepper is charred. Remove the peppers and turn the oven down to 450 degrees.
Allow them to cool for a few minutes before handling. I prefer to do the next step with plastic gloves – my skin can’t handle the capsaicin.
Gently peel the bubbled skin, removing as much as you can without tearing the flesh.
Using a sharp knife, carefully cut a slit about 2 or 3 inches down the middle of the pepper. Try to avoid cutting through the other side or a complete slit from top to bottom – but if it happens, and it almost always does for at least one pepper, don’t worry – it will still work.
Scoop out the seeds. This is the tricky part – I usually use a paring knife to gently release the big ball of seeds at the top, and then use a small spoon or my finger to work the rest out. I hate the crunch of a seed, so I’m pretty thorough on this step, but it’s not going to hurt you if a few seeds are left.
(An example of one that has a bigger-than-ideal opening, but will still work.)
Use a spoon to start scooping the filling into the peppers. I really shove it in there – the pepper does not need to close again.
Sprinkle the remaining cheese (about a cup) over the tops of the peppers. Depending on the amount of peppers you are using, you may not need the full cup. I just put enough to lightly cover the opening – when the cheese melts, it helps hold it all together.
Pop the peppers back into the oven until the cheese melts, about 5-10 minutes. If you are feeling brave, and promise not to leave them alone, you can use your broiler for a faster result.
And that’s it! A little bit of prep work on the peppers and you now have a healthier alternative to the cheese-stuffed, battered and fried chile rellenos. And trust me, these are even better. Again, serve with spanish rice, chips, salsa, gaucamole – all the good stuff.
