the white chocolate buckeyes
but damn, they look good
Congratulations, Kate! You’ve won the Laurie Berkner Band Goodie Bag that includes:
* A copy of the their new CD â€˜ROCKETSHIP RUNâ€™
* 3 Book Titles by Laurie Berkner
* And an official T-shirt from the band!
Congratulations First Prize Winners! You’ve won a copy of ROCKETSHIP RUN on CD!
Thanks to all who entered!
Winners, I’ve e-mailed each of you. Please respond (admin at mymommysplace.com) with your mailing address to receive your prize!
I don’t like to brag, but – oh hell, who am I kidding? I do like to brag. Probably because I’m a screw up a lot of the time, so when I do something good, I like to glorify it. Technically, that’s bragging, but ugh! What an ugly word. Let’s just start calling it personal positive reinforcement. Mmkay? Alright. So, here’s a little PPR:
I made the most delicious all from scratch Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. Truly. It was a personal best. I actually peeled the potatoes, cooked them and mashed them by hand. Ditto the stuffing, the broccoli casserole, the bread, the noodles – okay, my mom made the noodles, but I boiled them and added fresh herbs that I chopped up myself.
The thing I’m saying is, there were no prepackaged from a bag or a box just add water kind of dishes on our table. It was all fresh and made from scratch. SCRATCH!
Oh, and I brined my turkey, like last year, which we all know means I prepared this meal for days. (I wasn’t able to snap a picture of the bird before the family started ripping it apart and jamming it in their faceholes. You can look at last year’s turkey via the linky part of the previous sentence to get an idea. Except, instead of stuffing it with, um, stuffing, this year I stuffed it with apples and rosemary. So, look at the photo and imagine apples and rosemary where the stuffing is.)
This is a huge milestone for me. I’m like a real grown-up, especially because, after all the preparation and hard work, I did not pig out. I showed enormous restraint. I sampled every dish, but simply sampled. I had one small portion of each item. And a piece of pumpkin pie. That was it. I didn’t go back for seconds. I didn’t even eat the Cool Whip straight out of the container, like usual. And when I woke up this morning, I didn’t have pie for breakfast.
In summation, I am the embodiment of hearth. Also, fortitude.
*end bragging *end personal positive reinforcement
Lucy spent most of last night nursing on my right breast, so I woke up this morning with one regular boob and one GIANT boob. It was rather unsettling.
The rest of my day was equally unbalanced.
Dave received his paycheck, but it did not include the overtime we were expecting. (Sorry economy! This consumer will be spending Black Friday at home.)
When I got to my walking place, everyone was walking the track opposite the usual direction. Somehow, this made it difficult for me to get started. I stood at the entrance of the track, desperately wanting to walk in the regular direction. I contemplated this. Would I get in trouble for going against the flow? Eventually, I got on the track and walked with the crazies in the wrong direction, but only because it made my BIG boob protrude into the outside lane saving the rest of the walkers from being boob whipped by my freewheeling jumblies.
Julia was a maniac when I picked her up from school, but I took her to the party store anyway. I had to get boxes. It’s the time of the season when the love runs high and I make buckeyes with my pleasured hands! Julia talked the store clerk’s ear off about her “5 Tinkerbell birthday.” (FYI, her birthday is in June. She’s planning it already. Her guest list is up to 1,506 people, because she invites every.person.she.meets.) When the clerk asked when her birthday is and we discovered they had the same birthday, Julia ignored her. When I pointed it out to her she said, “I know, I know. We have the same birthday. I heard her.” I was so embarrassed. I apologized to the clerk, took Julia to the van and told her if she treated someone like that again, I’d take her birthday away. She told me I couldn’t do that. Ha! Wanna bet, kiddo? I gave you your birthday, I’ll take it right back.
Once I got home and Lucy nursed the HUGE boob back to it’s regular size, things improved. Coincidence?
I was back at the post office again today, mailing monkeys, because sock monkeys are all the rage this Christmas (yes they are!) and I had a deja vu. As I stood filling out my customs form (international monkeys! Woopah!), a woman walked in with an infant car seat carrier. The man working behind the counter greeted her and inquired about the baby nestled inside. How old? How big? How big at birth? He commented on how painful that must have been to deliver a baby that big, “I can’t imagine,” he said. And then he started to talk about his wife’s natural child birth.
Golly, this is familiar, I thought. Then, I looked up and saw it was THE postman talking.
He can’t imagine delivering a baby that big? I think that’s exactly what he’s doing. Imagining it. You can just tell. He asks how big the baby was, makes a comment like, “and you’re not very big,” and gets that same look on his face that Julia had when she tried to stick peas up Lucy’s nose.
Folks, it’s weird.
Then again, I fantasize that Jason Mraz lives in my cleavage.