Raw Oats in Milk with Fruit and Honey

Tale of Freedom Part II
Part I

It was an ordinary night.

I was off in my bedroom being very quiet so that everyone would forget I was alive. My husband was on the floor in our bedroom doing whatever he does on the floor in our bedroom.  My kiddos were in the living room talking and giggling, or so I thought.

Actually, it was . . . .5  or so minutes before bedtime, and they were reading.

So what. Big deal.

Oh, it was a big deal, a very big deal.

One of my children using her mommydar, quickly finds me trying to be invisible, and says, "Mommy.  We were reading a book, and it has really freaky pictures in it." She regales rather demandingly.

"Uh, ok" I say in my lowest voice possible because I'm still trying to be invisible. "So then, don't read it."

"Fine." she pouts, as if she's mad at invisible me, and then she retreats back into the living room.

6 minutes later.  She returns.  She literally steps over her father (who is not trying to be invisible) nearly kicks him in the face, and barrels over to my side.

"Mommy!" she half screams, half spits, "Those pictures are really crazy, and THEY ARE REALLY FREAKING ME OUT!!!"

"Well then my dear, STOP looking at them and STOP reading that book." I think I am no longer invisible.

She just continues to look at me all mad and scrunchy faced.  I think she's thinking this is my fault.  And that maybe I'm a horrible mother. Or maybe she's trying to use her telepathic powers to make me uninvisible,( which would be for all intensive purposes visible) so that the freaky crazy pictures can come gnaw off my head.  I'm not sure, but in either case, I'm really not appreciating this mommy loathing look I'm getting as I try to lie quietly on my invisible sunny beach, with my invisible Bud Light Lime, in my non-invisible head.

As she's staring me down, #2 walks onto my invisible beach looking rather mischievous.
I should have know something was up.

An Interview with a Me-Pire

Get it?

An interview with a Me-Pire.  Like Vampire. Like the book. . . . . . and the movie.

It was supposed to be funny.

You know 'cause I'm all "I LOVE VAMPIRES."

Well not all vampires.

Only vegetarian ones.

Anyway, I'm not sure how I got sidetracked.  Interview, yeah right.

Somebody interviewed ME.

Cause I'm so smart. And studious. And ummm. . . .smart.

Just look at me.

I wear glasses.  That's like. . . . . brilliant people fashion.

Double look.  I have a book.  Now if that's not genuis, I don't know what is.

Who wouldn't want to interview me?
Oh, hush your mouth.

You know you want to read it.

But, I'm warning you.  I may not seem incredibly brilliant. But that's my lure.  I make you think I'm a crazy idiot, and then I've outsmarted you ALL. Making me. . . .Genuis. Brilliant. Smart. Vegan Vampire Lover.

Wanna read it?  Go HERE to my friend Annie's blog The Day After Yesterday.

Rocky Road Bars

They say it comes in three's.

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A Tale of Freedom - Part I
Part II

Thursday, 3:50 pm.

"On the day I was born the prince of night hid me in his great black cloak of darkness, and during the storm he carried me away, so that no one saw me leave. I was afraid Mama, but the prince of night is very gentle, and he quickly replaced my fears with restful sleep, " I breathed roughly, as I read from the pages of The Invisible Princess, by Faith Ringgold.

"Bella, wow that is really descriptive. What do you think it means?"

"Ummmm. Maybe it means that the Prince carried the baby girl away to an Invisible place at night, so that nobody could make her a slave," she pondered.

"I think you might be right. Where do you think that invisible place is?"

"The Invisible Village???" her face contorts in such way as she ponders the thought once more.

"Could be.  Or maybe," I whisper "that place is heaven."

The Fart without Fear Cookbook by Wayne Chen and Gary Goss

Today the topic is WAY serious.

It's about traumatized childhoods, inappropriate giggles, and smells that are so offensive they make you want to kill the offender.

FARTS.

Particularly, the really bad, ranky, putrid, crawl up your nose and pull your eyeballs inward death defying type.

Whenever I think about this, I think about this man.

And the Fruitalistic Winners are . . . . . . .

Guess what today is?

Friday, yes.  Such the smarty pants.

Guess again.

February 18th, right again. 
But yet, so very wrong.
You're really not very good at this game.

TODAY is the day that I announce the winners of the Dole Fruit Bowl Giveaway!!!!!!!!!  (to see original contest go HERE .)

A beautiful day indeed.

I'm excited! Can you tell? I'm typing in fancy fonts and pretty colors.  That's my undercover way to let you know I'm  happy, happy, happy for you, you, you.

Okay without further ado, or poo poo, which would be completely gross so I'm not sure why I've referenced that, the winners are. . . . . . .

Chicken Wings Just Like Hooters

I saw this picture the other day. The one below, not the one above. Try and focus.

It's a picture of my maternal grandmother and grandfather.

I'd never seen a picture of them looking so in love. Look at the way she clings to him. How her head tilts to his in cohesion as if she's the missing piece to his puzzle. Her ankles intertwined together, as they lazily swing back and forth, like she's sitting on the docks staring out into the mysterious and ever powerful ocean of life.

Valentine's Day Dinner at the Woo's

I have a rule.  It cannot be broken, sidestepped, or circumnavigated.

Or there will be problems. 

And nobody wants Mama mad.

Really, I'm Mommy. But Mama sounds tougher.

And that rule is. . .

I do not under any circumstances make dinner for Valentine's Day. 

50 Reasons Why I Love My Husband ~ The Pussycat Dolls - "Stickwitu"

1. Because you almost always sing in the shower.
2. And it's ALWAYS, ALWAYS off key.
3. Because you don't want to go to a "crowded over priced restaurant" on Valentine's Day, but will if only I ask.
4. You talk to me even when my eyes are closing and clearly I'm not listening.
5. And that doesn't even bother you, and you don't get mad.
6. You love our children just as much as I do.
7. You call me from work just to tell me a whole bunch of nothing.
8. You don't walk on the carpet with your shoes, most days.
9. You wrap presents perfectly.
10. Although it takes you approximately 1 hour per present.
11. You wash clothes.
12. You kiss me when I'm mad, sad, or otherwise disposed.
13. You snore.
14. When I kick you when you snore, you don't kick me back.
15. When I kick you when you snore, YOU say "sorry". When it was really rather rude of me to kick you anyway.
16. When I kick you when you snore, you usually stop.
17. Your such a great daddy, that all 20 of our kids said "Daddy" before "Mama".
18. You fix my plate for dinner.
19. You'll buy be pads but not tampons because you have to draw the line somewhere.

The Nordic Diet by Trina Hahnemann

I hate diets.  Probably because I'm on one. Kind of. Not really.  I just think I should be on one, so I pretend like I am.

Diet as in. . .

di·et \ˈdī-ət\

a regimen of eating and drinking sparingly so as to reduce one's weight

Yeah. That type of diet sucks.

On the other hand, you may have surmised by this point that there is another type of diet that I totally dig.

As in. . . .

di·et \ˈdī-ət\

food and drink regularly provided or consumed.

Especially the regular and consumed bit.  Those are my favorite parts.

All of this puts me in a bit of a quandary, wouldn't you say?  Someone who loves food, wants to eat it regularly, yet should start a regiment of doing this said activity sparingly so as not to have a mammoth size butt.

Molasses Breakfast Bran Muffins with Pecans and Sesame Seeds

I'm on a diet.

Hence the muffin-athon.

It's not what you think.  I really am trying to lose weight. 

10 pounds by Valentines Day.

So that I can be extra alluring to my husband when he showers me with Lobster and Filet Mignon (that he ordered online ~ that's another story).

Well at least, more alluring than I was 2 weeks prior.

It's not really working out too well.

I did lose 5 pounds, but I gained back 4 and 3 quarters Super Bowl night between 5 and 10 pm. It would have been a Super Bowl miracle had it gone the other way around.

GIVEAWAY!!!!! Dole Fruit Bowls in 100% Juice ~ 6 packages of four!!!

Because it's almost Valentine's Day. . . . .

And because I love you soooooo much. . . . . .

And I really, really, really, understand the importance of a sweet snack. . . .

that doesn't make you feel like you'll need to curl up and take a long nap.

One that will give you plenty of energy for kissing, and hugging, and of course reading my blog.

I am giving away to TWO Lucky Readers . . . . .

Cherry Bars

I made a new friend the other day.

His name is Tim.  He works for Go Daddy.

He gives such great customer service that he lickety split sent this recipe over to me after helping me out with a little problem I was having on my blog.

The Name of This Masterpiece is entitled "Cherry Bars". Sinful, sinful cherry bars.

Do you hear the angels singing and the harps playing?  You should, they are that good. Though since I've dubbed them sinful, I'm not sure God would approve. But then that would mean I'd have to stop eating them, because at this rate I'm atleast in 10th level of purgatory.

I amend the previous statement. They are heavenly. Floating in the clouds transcendental.

I am staring at one now. Willing myself not eat my 20th bar in the last 2 hours. They are so utterly divine.

I made them for our Super Bowl Party.

Because nothing says "Football!" like popping a cherry in your mouth.

Get your mind out of the gutter, you know what I mean.

I thought you might like to make these for your loved ones for Valentines Day. Because well, their sweet, juicy, and very lovely.  And because I think popping cherries applies here too.

Thanks again Tim, for your stellar customer service.

Sorry if my crassness is offensive.  My conscience cannot help herself.  It's a problem.

Cheesecake Lemon Bars

I've been recovering from a party that we had at our house for the Super Bowl.

I cleaned a lot.

I cooked a lot.

I ate a lot. 

I did however, have a lot of help.  My peeps are always anxious to give a helping hand when the end result is a party and a gluttonous evening of stuffing their faces at a trough.  I smile just thinking about it.

How to Skin a Cat(fish) or How to Clean a Catfish

There is something that my husband is a little embarrassed about.

It has to do with me, and actually nothing at all to do with him.

He doesn't want you to know this about me. He says it just isn't right.

I call my mother "Mommy".  And he really doesn't like it.

It's not like I call her mommy to other people.  When people ask "How is your mother doing?" I don't say, "My Mommy is doing swell!"

Southern Style Fried Catfish

My family and I went fishing this weekend.

Don't be too impressed.

It was at the city pool.

We went because well, my mom is a big fisherwoman (and by that I mean she knows how to fish) and she guilted me into it.  Basically, she said if I didn't do this one thing for my children I would rot.  And frankly, I don't want to rot, so I took my kids to the swimming pool to fish.