Posts Tagged ‘home’


March 30, 2011

Glamour Rayz is the essence of girly.  The pinker, shinier, the frillier, or sparklier(making up words, yes.), THE better. Whirling Dervish was once like her sister, and in fact started out über pinky with pink undies, pink socks, pink shoes, pink shirt, you get the idea. But now WD is girly in a funky sort of way, tom boy with pizzazz.  I, having been a tom boy growing up, and still am in a lot of ways, have had to get in touch with my inner Pink. Woo.

Believing that everyone should embrace pink the way she does, from time to time Glamour will strike, catching her victims unaware, inflicting her pinkness on anyone or anything in her path…..

The poor blue M&M had done nothing to deserve this. He didn’t stand a chance.

Last Sunday, she caught Butter Face.  He didn’t know what hit him.  After the carnage wrought by Glamour’s birthday party last weekend (see 8 Year Olds post, please), Big Daddy and I had parked it in the livingroom to continue our marathon of March Madness viewing.  Glamour skips by, down the hall to her room, then shoots back by on her way downstairs.  She gives me a quick, “Doot, duh, doot, doot, doo, hey Mom,” in her Mini Mouse voice. “Hey, chicken” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the TV.

A few minutes later, Butter Face the Wonder Dog, comes sauntering down the hallway. I see a flash of pink out of the corner of my eye,  and my mouth drops open.  Big Daddy looks over, “No she didn’t.”

My poor dog.  The look on his face was one of utter disgust. He walked in and laid down as if to say, “WHY, why does she treat me so? Please put me out of my misery.”

So watch yourself, she may be lurking.  She might bat those eyelashes to draw you near. and Wham! You’ve been pinkified….


Condiments and Sauces, etc…..

March 27, 2011

Never mind keeping track of what people are allergic to or not in my house, I have to worry about who eats what condiments, sauce, yogurt,etc…. Pay attention, there will be a quiz at the end.

Big Daddy:  Hellman’s mayo only, Miracle whip is the devil’s food.  banana peppers, toasted bread-if eating bread, no blood on the plate with the beef, but will eat carpaccio.  American cheese over cheddar on the sandwich.  No couscous because, “it tastes like air.” eggs over pancakes.  Veggies,  veggies, and more veggies.  Meat, meat, and more meat.  fruit, some desserts, but not many. Tea.  No coffee unless its frou-frou.  Ranch dressing.

MiniMe: No salad dressing of any kind.  No condiments on the sandwich, BBQ sauce on everything else.  Lettuce, tomatoes only on sanwiches-not in salads.  Butter on sandwiches, no mayo. Orange juice.  plain milk makes him gag, scrambles eggs, never boiled. Oatmeal. Pancakes.  No fruit-on-the bottom yogurt-must be pre-blended.  Spinach, preferably creamed and most veggies. HAM! Shrimp. Loves sweet potatoes, but will eat white potatoes.  Prefers Alfredo sauce over tomato sauce, but will eat them mixed or separate, doesn’t care.  Previously didn’t like onions, not will eat them on a sandwich.  Will eat plain cabbage  and raw potatoes.  Gravy on the meat, but not the starch. Now likes spicy foods.  Motto: If not nailed down, it will be eaten.

Whirling Dervish: Nothing with a weird texture-No oatmeal, pudding, and only some smoothies. Baked potatoes, no sweet potatoes.  Meat! No fish other than how Grandpa Poppy makes it (fried).  Gluten-free diet.  Rice gives her headaches.  Boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, but favorite are fried but is not a breakfast eater. Milk.  Will eat deviled eggs without paprika.  No nuts, but likes peanut butter.  Prefers Alfredo sauce over tomato sauce, will eat pink sauce. White Bean Soup is favorite.  No shrimp.  Yogurt prefered from a tube, rather than a container.  Cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Corn in any form. No spinach, creamed or otherwise. Gravy on the starch, sometimes the meat. Beans.

Glamour Rayz:  The tangier the better.  Dill pickles by the jar.  Boiled eggs, but only the whites, but will eat deviled eggs.  Baked potato, but no skin on it. Makes her own pesto sauce.  No Alfredo sauce, but will eat tomato or Pink sauce. No crusts ont he sandwiches. Prefers chocolate milk.  Cheeseburgers plain.  Hot dogs with no bun.  Gravy on meat and starch.  Has a sweet tooth.  Syrup and powdered sugar on the waffles.  Likes spicy stuff.  No peas, will tolerate green beans.  Salad either plain or with Italian dressing depending on the mood.  Likes ice in all drinks.

Butter Face (Wonder Dog): Certain lins of dog treats give him bubbly guts. Shoes, but prefers the most smelly of them. Dead stuff from the yard.  Grass. Unattended coffe, but akes him jittery.  Butter (hence the name). Steals food, but prefers, fat, meat. Motto:  Please see MiniMe entry for reference.

And this is what I CAN remember…..Check please!

-Saucy at the Edge

Necessity Breeds…….

March 15, 2011

Chicken, what to do with the chicken? I’ve been saying this to myself for the past three days, knowing chicken was on the menu for tonight. I’m more of a beef and pork kinda gal. At one point I even stopped eating chicken altogether for a few years, because it just got too fleshy for me. But, since it is supposedly healthier than pork and beef, I started up again. But I digress. Back to this evening. So I went to for a new recipe. I was looking for something different and I figured Rachel Ray would have something good and fast, you know 30 minutes and all that jazz.

Honey Nut Chicken Sticks. Sounded interesting, different and I had some honey nut cereal for the coating, along with the rest of the required ingredients. Because the superhero posse is hungry all the time and they’re growing at the speed of light, I doubled the recipe, doubled the ingredients. Got to dredging, and dipping, and coating and ran out of coating with 3/4 of my chicken naked. And I don’t have all the ingredients to make the same coating. Hhmmmmm……..

The good thing is that my parents taught me how to cook, really cook. So I got to work, or as Big Daddy calls it, “my mad scientist mode”, making up a coating for my chicken out of what I had in the pantry. With Whirling Dervish and I on the gluten-free train, the wheels got to screeching and smokin’. Shazaam!

1/4 bag of Cool Ranch Doritos is it for coating number 2. Out came the meat pounder and those Doritos were crumbed in seconds and my stress level was a bit lower as well. But I still didn’t have enough for all my chicken. Whirling Dervish was helping me cook and looked at me liked I had lost a marble or two, and I said, ” Necessity breeds invention my dear.” She still looked puzzled. “Ya got to work with whatcha got, sister.”

With Whirling still eyeing me suspiciously, and in that same snack food vain, I went with microwave popcorn. Orville Rendenbacher to the rescue! I popped the corn, then threw it in food processor with some herbs and spices an a bit of olive oil. And voila, popcorn coating for my naked fowl. Salad and buttered leftover pasta rounded out the chicken tender buffet. Bring on the grub!

And the verdict? Cool Ranch Doritos won, followed up by Orville Redenbacher. Rachel Ray’s Honey Nut coating was good, but brought up the rear because the spice level was too high for the young superheros. Big Daddy and I will have to finish those off.

And so my invention, which I’m sure someone else came up with before, is a keeper. Superheros were sufficiently nourished and quite impressed with my on the spot creativity.

Final score: Edge one, chicken zero! Bring on da bird, baby!

Here’s to the prefect year!

January 12, 2011

Happy 2011!  I know a number of people who are quite glad to see 2010 go. Whatever your take on 2010, c’est la vie, it’s done.

In her book, “Being Perfect,” by Anna Quindlen, she tells us to leave the “perfection trap” behind. That trap requires us to live and be for other people; our families, our friends, and our colleagues, and not for ourselves. We live according to what society dictates.  To add to the madness, the trap changes depending on time and place. When we’re young, we wanted to please our parents.  As we get older, we need to keep up with our peers. Then it’s to be the wife, mother, and neighbor that we’ve all read about or seen in Norman Rockwell paintings. Quindlen wisely tells us to put down the backpack filled of perfection bricks and live for ourselves.  For when we do that, we will be our very best version.  She encourages us, while making decisions, to give the answer, “for me.” Our choices should be a reflection of who we are and what we want out of our lives, not what other people think they should be or require. And if our choices are, then they will truly be fulfilling and rich in meaning, and true reflections of our own uniqueness.

While I’ve never been one to subscribe to being perfect, we all in some form do things and make decisions based on others perceptions or societal conformity requirements.  Some of those requirements, I’m all about.  We should be required, whether by law or peer pressure, to wear clothing in the appropriate settings.  I’m not really trying to see a colleague’s danglies as he’s off to a meeting and I’m certain he can’t handle all of my zaftig wonder. But decisions about whether or not I should over extend myself to be the involved parent, to not say, “no,” or to keep up with the Jones’ are of what Quindlen speaks.

So rather than make resolutions, that inevitably fall by the wayside and make me feel like there was something I forgot to do….again, I’m deciding to free myself and be perfectly me. I hope the year is perfect for you too….

Fightin’ Dirty……

May 5, 2010

Big Daddy has put me in the cone of silence and I am well deserving.  We were arguing and though that really doesn’t happen very often on the edge, I was fightin’ dirty.  I pulled out the, “You’re going to end up just like your dad, alone and miserable!!!!!” line, which I know hurts BD at his core.

Right after the comment flew out of my mouth, I wished I could have grab it back out of space. Though I did apologize shortly thereafter, I know that just because I did so, the sting didn’t immediately go away.  And while some of his personality is like his dad’s, as we are all like our parents in some ways we care not to embrace, BD is a far, far better parent and man than his own dad. I know that and so does he. I and his children adore him far too much that he would ever be miserable and alone.

The crazy thing was that I knew I shouldn’t have gotten sucked into the argument in the first place and had told myself that I wasn’t going to.  I was working on an hour and half of sleep and had a whole bunch of stuff to do in a hurry and was not in the mood. And one thing led to another and whammo.

I wanted to kick myself and I’m sure BD wanted to kick me too, though he would never do so. I had just been reading about being silent and not reacting and here I was not only reacting, but hitting below the belt.

After that, it didn’t matter if I was right or if my argument made more sense than his(which is still up for debate) because anything I said fell on deaf ears. So, did I really accomplish anything by throwing it out there?

Maybe there is something to that “Silence is Golden.”  I have a feeling I am going to be in the cone of silence for a bit longer, so I’ll have plenty of time to learn that one.

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