It Coulda’ Been Worse

I’ve been holding out on y’all.

After yesterdays post, you may think that’s simply not possible. There could be nothing left to hide.

Not so. I have many many surprises up my sleeve.

Ready?

There is a package of Oreo cookies in my house. They’ve been here nearly a week. I even know where they are.

And I haven’t touched them.

But, that’s not possible, you say.

I finally, after much procrastinating, started back on Phase 1 of the South Beach diet. Today marks week 1 completed of the recommended two weeks spent in Phase 1.

Phase 1 mandates that I consume no sugars (even fruit) or bread or rice. This is to “clean out my system” and thusly, irradiate the cravings. I did Phase 1 after Cailey was born, and then stayed on Phase 2 and 3 for nearly a year. I lost about 30 pounds. I felt fabulous.

Then got pregnant again.

Cue the violins.

I’ve been loosely following South Beach since Jensen’s birth. I say loosely, because for me, loosely means I may have consumed entire boxes of Girl Scout Thin Mints from time to time. In one sitting.

The cravings were winning. So, I’m fighting back. After a week, I’m feeling great, and have lost 4 pounds. When Phase 2 begins, my weight loss will slow to one or two pounds per week. And that’s still really really good for me.

I have 13 pounds to go. Which is not a huge amount. But, on my short little dumpy body, I know I will look and feel better.

If you want more information on the South Beach Diet, check them out in my left sidebar. They are an affiliate because I am such a big fan. I am subscribing to their website for 4 weeks, to get new recipes, organize my meal plans, and let them put my shopping list together.

If they would only come and clean my house, I’d be joyous.

I’m eating a lot of eggs for breakfast these days, and I have many great breakfast dishes to share. This one is actually from the first South Beach cookbook.

Cheesy Frittata

2 t. Smart Balance Margarine
1/2 Sliced Onion
1/2 Cup Sliced Red Bell Pepper
1/2 Cup Sliced Zucchini
2 Small Plum Tomatoes, Diced
1 T. Chopped Fresh Basil (or 1/2 t. Dried)
Pinch of Freshly Ground Black Pepper
1/2 Cup Liquid Egg Substitute
1/2 Cup 1% Cottage Cheese
1/4 Cup Fat-Free Evaporated Milk
3/4 Oz. Shredded low-fat Monterey Jack Cheese

Coat an ovenproof 10” skillet with cooking spray and place over medium-low heat until hot. Melt the spread in the skillet. Add the onion, bell pepper, and zucchini and sauté over medium-low heat until the veggies are lightly browned, 2-3 minutes. Add the tomatoes, basil, and black pepper to the skillet and stir to combine. Cook until the flavors are blended, 2-3 minutes, and remove from the heat.

Preheat the broiler. In a blender, combine the egg substitute, cottage cheese, and milk and process until smooth. Pour the egg mixture over the vegetables. Cover and cook on medium-low heat until the bottom is set and the top is still slightly wet. Transfer the skillet to the broiler and broil until the top is set, 2-3 minutes. Sprinkle with the cheese and broil until the cheese melts.

This recipe serves two.

This is one of my favorite breakfast egg dishes. I’ve even made it for a light dinner. It is not nearly as complicated or time consuming as it sounds.

As usual, if you have a recipe to post for Saturday Stirrings, join in below. Link back here, and enjoy the rest of the weekend. I am amassing a wonderful array of new recipes thanks to y’all!

In order to understand what I’m about to say, you will need to read the post from Tuesday, and from Wednesday. That will be 5 minutes of your life you can never reclaim, but they are relevant.

Otherwise, you will just think I’m a raving lunatic.

But then, after this post, you will be certain I’m a raving lunatic, so it really doesn’t matter. Carry on.

This is all about the mugshot that my computer wouldn’t let me post. Some of you commented, asking Fiddledaddy to step in and work his technological magic so that the offensive photo can be viewed.

In good conscience, I could not ask him to do it. Because he would have said “NO!” As he found it insulting to would-be bank robbers everywhere. Bank robbers are people too, you know.

My sweet husband, who really should be used to me, is now convinced that I’m a few french fries short of a Happy Meal.

My blogging friend, Kelli, commented that she had not received her copy of the photo via e-mail. And I believe she was hurt by this.

Since Kelli and I have a blogging history, and she understands my level of crazy (at least she pretends that she does), and she knows all too well the affects of sleep deprivation, I sent it to her.

With only the caption: “Because you are my friend.” No other explanation.

After a few hours, I hadn’t heard back from her. Unusual, given the circumstances.

I thought I may have pushed the boundary of friendship, and she had deleted me from her hard drive altogether.

So, I checked my outbound e-mail to make sure it was indeed, outbound.

Imagine my horror when I discovered I had sent it to the wrong Kelli. To a Kelli from my MOPS group like 5 years ago. A Kelli who has no idea who I am.

Allrightythen. I quickly followed-up with an e-mail to stranger-Kelli explaining that hackers had commandeered my computer and I was not responsible for the content.

And then a lightening bolt came through the ceiling, knocking me out of my chair, rendering me senseless.

So, I told the truth.

Then I e-mailed the picture to the correct Kelli, telling her of Kelli #1’s misfortune at having received this horrendously frightening photo.

She assured me she would visit me in the poky. And today she let me know that I was now displayed on her computer desktop.

She’s depraved, that Kelli.

All that to say, that I took all of your comments to heart, and I certainly don’t want to disappoint you. What I have done, to honor your requests, is nothing short of brilliant. I took a picture of the image on my screen, and downloaded that into my blog images. It’s not as clear as the original. But, that’s probably for the best.

If this gives you nightmares, it’s your own fault. You should have listened to Mac.

If this is your first time visiting my blog, you should know that hackers have commandeered this post and…..

Phhhhhhttttttt.

A question came up regarding the pending piano acquisition. I don’t have it yet, because apparently, pianos weigh like 5000 pounds, and have to be moved by trained piano movers with big strong muscles.

So, I can’t just throw it in the back of the van, like I do every else I want to drag home. I’m a notorious dumpster diver, and I really really miss my little black Toyota truck. Which would do me absolutely no good in this piano situation.

The piano belonged to Fiddledaddy’s grandmother, and has been passed between siblings. An e-mail went out recently from my SIL, to see if another family member wanted to inherit it. Since I happened to be on-line at the time, I responded with flying fingers.

“YES. WE WANT IT!”

Fiddledaddy, had other ideas about where it should go. (And after I plow through 5 bottles of Excedrin in the span of a week when my children begin playing, I may be in agreement.)

However, as noted in yesterdays post, I used my genius for good, and negotiated a deal which would procure us a piano.

Once we figure out the perfect location for our new piano, since it will be a permanent location, we’ll arrange to have it moved. Another issue has been our flooring. We want to get rid of our light green carpet. Another wise choice when building our house in 1999 BC (before children). Light green seemed a good choice at the time, as I figured it would be the same color as pee. Just in case.

I was wrong.

I say, just install a drain, and keep the concrete.

Because flooring is expensive, y’all. So much so, that I may be forced to knock off another bank to finance such an expense.

Which is a nice transition, as I wanted to discuss the mug shot I spoke of in the same post regarding the new leather furniture.

Yesterday morning, before the benefit of caffeine. I had an idea. I got Cailey’s pink ballet stockings, and sat down in front of my computer. I have a Mac, and have Photo Booth, but have never utilized it.

But, for your entertainment, I thought I’d give it a try.  Because I’m just giving like that.

As I struggled to pull the stockings over my face, my daughter asked, “Um, Mom, what are you doing?”

“Nothing. Go eat your breakfast. There are Cheerios on the floor.”

Once I got the stockings over my head, I couldn’t see the keyboard, so I put my reading glasses on over the stockings. Which were over my face.

Are you getting the picture?

Good. Because you have to use your imagination. My computer wouldn’t let me publish the image. Not kidding. I did everything right, but I could not post it.

I thought it was hysterical. AND you could see my beautiful furniture in the background. Bonus.

Emme called it “disturbing.”

Later, when Fiddledaddy saw it, he said it looked demonic. And since my Mac is a Christian, it could not, in good conscience, post it.

Whatever.

So either, A) I’m going over the edge fast, or B) my computer is smarter than I am. I choose C) all of the above.

I e-mailed it to Trish, and she had to agree. Too scary. But, she wrote, the family room look like it’s right out of a magazine!

Except for the woman wearing pink ballet stockings over her head, (and pink and blue reading glasses) in the foreground.

Better Homes and Psychopaths.

It’ll be an instant hit.

ISN’T THIS BEAUTIFUL! I couldn’t wait to show it off. It’s a new piece of art I bought, to pull together the decor in the family room.

I’m lying. This is what I found underneath Jensen’s booster seat on one of the kitchen table chairs. And there was more. Much more. The photograph shows what was left behind, after I hosed up the rest with Jaws, the trusty Hoover vacuum.

People. I had to chisel what remained off the chair with a butter knife and a tenderizing mallet. Fortunately, as you can see, the distressed look is alive and well in the House of Fiddle.

And good thing, too.

White kitchen chairs. What a brilliant idea. I painted them when I was pregnant with Emme. And, our first major purchase before we were married, was a white slip covered feather couch. That was a stroke of genius.

Evidently, the thought of ever having children didn’t cross our mind. Because if I had any idea the horrors that three children could inflict on a hapless white feather couch, I would have instead gone with the brown naugahyde.

The kind you can hose off.

But, every white slip covered feather couch that has overseen the raising of three high spirited children, has a story to tell. The couch had in fact, become a scrapbook. And I was very fond of it.

But, after 10 years and one small boy with allergies, it became apparent that the couch had to go. I was reluctant, mostly because we hadn’t found anything to replace it, and there was talk of dragging the lawn furniture into the family room during the interim. Which is just tacky.

I hemmed and hawed, until finally, Fiddledaddy told me that if I agreed to get rid of the offensive couch IMMEDIATELY, he would let me take the hand-me-down piano that he had already put his size 10 foot down with a resounding, “NO WAY.”

Well. I know a good deal when I hear one. With Herculean strength, I hoisted the couch over my head myself, and tossed it out on the curb. Chopin’s mother would have done the same thing.

Lying again. The next day, I aided Fiddledaddy in stuffing the couch into the van to take to the thrift store. The same thrift store that will take almost ANYTHING. They seemed thrilled to be the recipient of the white slip covered feather couch.

We burned rubber before they had a chance to turn the seat cushions over. SUCKERS!

And we went shopping at Ashley’s Furniture and bought ourselves A NEW LEATHER COUCH, LOVE SEAT, AND CHAIR. When I clean up the family room (in other words, hide Jensen’s fleet of vacuums and cars), I’ll snap a picture.

And while I’m at it, I’ll post the photograph shown on the local news of a middle-aged housewife wearing her control top pantyhose on her head as she knocked off a bank to pay for her new leather furniture.

Liar. Liar. The control-tops had too many runs. Had to settle for Cailey’s pink princess ballet tights.

Which was, in hindsight, a little tacky. But still, a good look for me.

Have a great week, everyone!

My Ensemble Includes a Suit of Armor

This is week 3 in Lisa Bergren’s Busy Mom’s Devotional. She is discussing how we must always be vigilant, never cease praying, and have eyes in the back of our head.

Which comes in awfully handy when trying to figure out which one of your offspring placed a full open can of soda back in the box in the pantry. Upside down.

And the “never cease with the praying” is helpful to keep you from sending that particular child off to the military academy. With his Blues Clues blanket and a case of diapers.

The Bible passage for the week is one that I love, about putting on the full armor of God. To read Ephesians 6: 10-18, go here.

Recently, Emme began sleep walking. Which adds a whole new dimension of excitement to our already action-packed nights. She is fearful of sleeping. Fearful of dreaming. (And yes, we severely limit her television viewing, so nothing of a scary nature is permitted.)

Well. Except for Barney. Even he scares me.

One particular night, recently, she woke us all up after a particularly frightening dream. This was one that she just couldn’t shake, even the next day.

Fiddledaddy knew just what to do. He gave her a pep talk about just how BIG Jesus is, and how we can call on Him, any time of the day or night to protect us.

“Jesus is WAY bigger than any old scary dream. In fact, Jesus can kick that scary dream’s BUTT.”

“Butt” was for emphasis. No one is allowed to use the word “butt” in our house. But, he really wanted to shake her up, and get her to laugh herself out of her fear.

And it worked.

And, interestingly, all tiny ears in the house stopped what they were doing and appeared from various corners. Prompting me to put an abrupt end to the conversation. No ifs, ands, or BUTTS about it.

A few days later we went through the drive-thru at McDonalds (don’t judge me), and we prayed over our lunch in the car.

Because really, the time to seriously implement a meal time prayer is when you are getting ready to dive into a cholesterol laden double cheese burger. Prepared most likely by someone who isn’t as vigilant about hand washing as you are.

Fiddledaddy finished the prayer with a resounding, “In Jesus name, AMEN.”

The children all echoed “AMEN,” from their respective car seats. And then Jensen piped up in his 3 year old voice, “AND JESUS KICKS BUTT.”

Amen, little man.

I’m now busy preparing the speech I most likely will have to make to our children’s pastor the next time Jensen is in Sunday school and the blessing is said over the animal crackers and juice.

Because along with the full armor of God that I need to wear each and every day, the control top pantyhose of humility completes my outfit.