I know I'm supposed to be on blog vacation, but this one was too good to pass up. I should be asleep right now. It's 6:28 AM. I went to bed at 12:45 after a 16 hour shift. I told Horst that I would wake up at 5:50 to bring him to the bus for 6:20. I am up at 5:55. I grab my coat, my coffee and go downstairs to his apartment to find that he already fucking left. His cellphone is not receiving phone calls. I am now sitting on my couch. Awake for the day as I am the type of person who can't go back to bed once they are up. I am seething in anger. I don't understand. I told him I'd do it. I even told him that I would leave the phone by my bed so that if he felt I was running late he would call. I did that. Even if I got up and we left at 6:10AM-we'd still have time to make the bus-it's an easy 4 minute drive to the bus station at this time of the morning ON A SUNDAY.

For the record, there is no way in hell that I am going to get in my car and try to pick him up as he walks down to the bus. Once he leaves the block and I can't see him to call him back, the fucker's on his own. I know what happened too. He waited until 5:45, and then decided I wasn't coming down and took off. It'd be easier to just call me AS PLANNED right? He is most likely not going to make his bus if he waited until 5:45 to start walking. that means he will wait at the bus station for the 7:20 bus.

Good riddance is what I say. I hope a crazy bum decides to befriend him and talk his ear off for the entire wait.

Is this some kind of Father's day retribution? Is he giggling to himself as he walks to the bus station? "Got that bitch this time for all the time she put me through hell." I bet he knows that I'll never go back to bed and am now facing a day of exhaustion.

But if I mention this to him, he will claim to be completely ignorant of the fact that this is kind of a dick thing to do. Then he will bring it up at least several times a day for the next week. Each mention of it will cost me another 2 minutes of my life.

Happy Father's Day. I have always loved this one

Holiday

I'm not going fishing, although that is something I'd like to do sometime.

I'm actually going to take a bit of a blog/Facebook break for the rest of this month. I need to focus my attention on writing that story and getting through the last leg of the June children's events. Then I have to put together a summer routine for myself and my minions that will keep us all from destroying each other until blessed September comes and I can ship them off again for 6 hours a day.

I'll be popping in on Facebook once a day because it is one of my main sources of communication with the outside world. I'll still check my emails too.

If I think of anything interesting or funny, I'll be sure to write it down. When July comes, hopefully I will have lots of things to write about.

Until then..

Talent Show Reject

Well, I was not expecting to even get an honorable mention for that writing contest. But the rejection letter still sucked. I'm going to have a very appropriate 5 minutes to sulk, and then I'll go work on my story because that is what I hear people do in these situations.

G is a funny child. For unknown reasons, she walked around all weekend stating that she loves violent movies and assassins. When I jokingly said that we should take the body of the squirrel, that knocked our power out by jumping into the transformer at 6AM, and nail his body to the tree in the yard as a warning to all other neighborhood squirrels, she loudly and enthusiastically supported the idea. Then yesterday she comes home from school with a certificate rewarding her for "random acts of kindness". I said, "You mean random acts of violence G, this can't be right!" She punched me.

In other news, I slept horribly and my neck hurts on one side. It being the day/night of the big talent show, the kids decided to wake up at 4:30 am. I have mentioned at least twice, both here and on Facebook about my difficulty in getting those fuckers out of bed. If anyone tells the two of them to break a leg, I shall have to say, "Don't tempt me."

The Yoghurt Post

Ugh, I had zombie dreams again last night. Of the horrific sort involving my children getting bitten. I woke myself up and lay in bed terrified for a while before I could drift off again.

A few weeks back I mentioned that I made yoghurt again. A few friends asked me to show them how. Here it is.

You need

Milk-I will either use whole milk or 2%-make sure it's not that ultra-pastureized shit. Make sure that if you use whole milk, your yoghurt starter is whole milk too. Likewise with the 2%. Here's what I used yesterday:



Next you will need powdered milk-this is an optional thickener-I like really thick, Greek style yoghurt. Any kind will do.

You will also need a yoghurt starter. New England Cheese Company has some really nice starter powders that you can order. I will be getting around to that soon. In a pinch, use a plain yoghurt that is to your liking. Just like I said, make sure that the fat content matches the milk. I used this:



Ok, rest of the supply list:

2 quart mason jars
a small cooler
liquid and dry measuring cups
2 large pots
A sink full of cold water
Either a kettle or a pan of hot water (if you use the cooler method)

A candy thermometer. You can use any type of cooking thermometer-I use this kind as I am cheap.





As far as the other things, you can use any container to hold the yoghurt, but you also need a way to maintain the temperature to allow the bacteria in the yoghurt to multiply. I use a small cooler full of warm water to do so. Again-New England Cheese Company has some nice gadgets too. In warmer weather you can even just wrap a bowl in a towel.

To start, put 1/3 cup of the yoghurt in a cup or small bowl, mix with some of the milk that you are using to thin it out.

Put 4 cups of the milk in a saucepan. Whisk in 2 or 3 tablespoons of powdered milk, if using. Heat the milk until it is just bubbling in the middle. Do not boil, just a few bubbles in the middle of the pan will do.



Now put the pan in the sink of cold water-adding ice helps too. You want to use your thermometer and cool the milk to 110-115 degrees:



Next-you whisk in the yoghurt/milk mixture. Then add it to your container.
I use the mason jars-I usually boil them to sterilize them, but as long as the containers are REALLY clean, you should be Ok.



Then I add hot water to the cooler, using the hot water from the jar sterilizing and the cold water from the sink to make the water in the cooler about 110-115 degrees-use your thermometer again. Then you add the jars



And put it where it will remain undisturbed for a long time. Some say 3 hours, I usually go 12 hours.

My last step is to line a colander with coffee filters and set it in a large container. I then allow the yoghurt to drain overnight


And here is the finished product:



And I'm done-Have the loveliest of days.

A Catch Up

I was busy yesterday. I am getting a lot of writing done. It's crazy hard, but I am plugging away.

A few things to share:
I have noticed, from watching Game of Thrones and then going online to read about the actors, that most men look better in boiled leather, long hair and a film of grime. Put street clothes on them and their attractiveness score plunges. God forbid something happens to B, I'll have to start picking up guys at a Renaissance fair. I guess I could dress up a as a camp whore.

I have a client that always says to me that he's the bomb. I respond by telling him that my Nana used to call farts bombs. Yesterday, in an attempt to make a down in the dumps G feel better, I told her that I thought she was the bomb and that I didn't mean I thought she was a fart. I don't think it helped.

Plans are underway to get a new Ipod for B as a birthday gift. His old one is kaputt and we have been sharing. I have been finding it increasingly difficult to hide my 80's music addiction.

A varmint ate most of my tomatoes, brussel sprouts and kale. I have fantasies of the suspected groundhog scurrying along, trailing the M80 I had just shoved up his ass. I smile when I imagine the bang.

My friend sent me this site a person put together of all the creative ways they displayed their Elf on the shelf for their kid. Most of you have seen my photo of Steve, our family elf:



When I showed the kids the picture, they yelled at me for not getting video of Steve getting the knife out of the drawer. I was considering putting some pictures of Steve with white powder in his lap and on his nose and doing naughty things to a Ken doll, but that may be going too far.


There is my list for things to do today: Look up coming Renaissance Fairs, purchase a self help book about talking to daughters, a new Ipod for B, a Ken doll and some fireworks.

Dear Old Dad

There's nothing like getting up to a quiet house and then having your peace broken by a loud coffee slurper/gulper. Such is my life and one of the crosses I must bear.
Speaking of crosses to bear, Horst turned 72 on May 30th. We celebrated yesterday because of his work schedule. Every year I make him German style porkchops and macaroni and potato salad. I always wonder how authentically German this food is, but since the Germans in my family refer to it as such, I'll take their word for it. I also made a German chocolate cake from scratch (it came out really good) and bought him a 6 pack of German beer. B and I joke that my Dad would eat a plate of feces as long as it was German. But I shouldn't tease.

In honor of my Dad turning a spry 72. I'd like to put a picture up of his superb housecleaning abilities



You're right-it's an old fucking diaper. Clean of course. My Dad lives in the basement and his bathroom is also the laundry room. As you can imagine, it gets pretty linty from time to time. The top of the trash can can get pretty bad. Horst's answer? Instead of just wiping the top of the can, he puts a goddamn rag on top to prevent it from getting dirty.

Is it me?
It's not me, right?

Ok off to a busy day of laundry, work and 1600 words to write.

Lyd is blasting Elton John top volume on her Ipod-off to intervene
Pray for me

Drowning Kittens

I had a terribly productive day yesterday. I got my car inspected, took several walks, wrote about 1000 words in addition to a blog post, cleaned my bathroom and made granola. I also had a very busy night at work.

Because I dropped the car off early, the kids had to make their way to school on foot. It twas a long treacherous journey of .8 miles. A circuitous route flanked on all sides by the terror of tidy lawns, pretty flowers and an assortment of song birds. The possibility of a small rain shower made the children's journey even more forbidding.

Seriously, based on their reactions when I informed them that we were walking to school, you would have thought that I had just asked them to take a small kitten and drown it in the toilet.

This got me to thinking about being in a position in life of having to tell a lot of people what to do. Between my kids, my dad and work, it's quite often. I have a general rule I always follow. This is, I never ever ask anyone to do anything that I myself haven't done before or would do myself. Usually, if it's a pretty heinous thing that requires doing (my job involves heinous unmentionables at times) I usually end up doing it. I feel it's fair.

There are many times when I will ask someone to do a menial task and their reaction is the same as the kid's reaction yesterday. My new mantra at these moments is to say, "I am asking you to do _______, not beat a bag of puppies to death with a baseball bat. Please do it.
It is astounding how little people are willing to do when asked. It's sad really.

Happily, walking to school was nice. I regret not doing it more this year. I will be taking advantage of these last weeks of school to walk with them. They'll get over it and used to it I'm sure. Perhaps they might even start to enjoy it. Especially if I give them the option-

You're walking or the kitten gets it.

Anyone out there has a kitten they want to lend me until the 14th?

Special Olympics Weekend

It twas Special Olympics weekend here. Lyd competes in it. She stays overnight and I have to go back and forth to the event at least 3 times between going to see her and bringing clients for work. Here are some highlights.


Lyd got a gold medal for the 25 meter walk.

Which leads to a funny story. She wanted to skip swim this week because she had to rest up for Special Olympics. My response was, "Lyd for fuck's sake, you are walking 25 meters one time and tossing a softball three feet. Get your damn suit on." Rest up my foot.




G met Mrs Rhode Island. That woman had poise I tell you! Watching her navigate a dirt road with thousand's of young disabled adults all wanting to hug her, wearing high heels and nary a hair out of place. It was impressive. Her smile never faltered.




And last of all, I present the Mighty V. When the zombies invaded Special Olympics he joined a group of other young children. They stockpiled the best shooting sticks and hijacked a random golf cart. Here you can see Von escaping on the back of the golf cart with the fair maiden he rescued, firing away at the ravenous horde.

It was a fun weekend.

Alarm

It ridiculous really.

I have one of those LL Bean moon beam alarm clocks. To wake you up, it flashes a gentle pulsing light. This works pretty well, except for those days when I am very tired. All that happens is suddenly, I'm completely blinded in my dreams and I stagger around not being able to see shit. It's very bizarre.

If you do not get up and turn the clock off, the gentle pulsing light is then accompanied by an very loud buzzing. That always works for me. My family however, is a whole other matter.

Those losers cannot be awakened by anything except the sound of me screaming in their ear or maybe a car bomb. Actually, Lydia gets up with her alarm because I pay her to. Like I said, ridiculous.

This morning I had to get up early to take my Dad to work and forgot to turn off the alarm. B and V were both sleeping in the bed when the alarm began to go off. Of course, I have to dash up the stairs to switch it off. It's always a somewhat contradictory scene. The chaos of the wildly buzzing and flashing alarm clock compared to the serene faces of my husband and son as they slept on in bliss. Honestly, that alarm is crazy and yet, nothing..You could probably light off a firecracker in there and get no response.

"Bastards." I muttered under my breath as I turned it off