Rehab

My child would have pasta every day. When I ask her what she wants for dinner, she says, “PASTA” every. time. 

I find this to be a huge coup, considering we’re gluten free. 

The other night at the grocery, I purchased Barilla gluten free pasta. I did not want to buy it. I had a coupon that for some reason outweighed their views on homosexuality. I can’t overlook it. *sad face* 

Even sadder face that I must tell you, after five years of eating gluten free pasta, Barilla is hands down the best I’ve ever tasted. 

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I cooked the pasta, and with about 2 minutes left, I added broken bits of asparagus. 

In a separate bowl, I whisked together 1 egg and 1/6 cup of Parmesan cheese. 

I tossed the hot pasta in the egg mixture. 

Eh. Mah. Gawd. 

It was Ah. Maze. Zing. 

You could easily cook some bacon and reduce the grease with white wine. 

It is not going to break my child of her pasta habit. And, now…I’ve got one myself. 

Highly recommend. 

A Beautiful Mind

My sweet child and I were at a stoplight tonight next to a restaurant that is going out of business.

“Mom, how old is this street?”

Very old.

“How do you know?”

Well, that restaurant sign says ‘Family owned since 1939.”

“Is that old?”

Yes. That is old.

“At least the sign doesn’t say ‘Whites Only’.”

And, that’s how it goes sometimes.

I heard her explaining Chitty Chitty Bang Bang to our four-year-old neighbor.

“She doesn’t like children and they take them away and hide them in the castle. Who could do that to children? That is not a nice lady.”

Everything is just as it sounds. It must be incredible to be six years old. I don’t remember much about it, honestly. My parents had just divorced. I think all I cared about was Grizzly Adams, MASH, and Andy Gibb.

I have to remind myself to just let her be. I was very good at it when she was a baby. But after a while I realized I needed to be a little bit more strict or she would, one day, walk all over me. I wish I had a picture of the moment she realized I had changed my parenting skills. You could see from the look on her face that shet was about to get real. She was wide-eyed and her jaw dropped. It was as if her mother had disappeared and had been replaced with a crazy lady.

Luckily, we’ve figured it out. She tells me every day how much she loves me, and that I am the best mommy ever. I tell her how lucky I am, and that she is the best kid ever.

Tonight, I rewarded her with roasted asparagus. I cook it for 35 minutes at 375 degrees. I drizzle olive oil on the asparagus, after breaking off the ends, and sprinkle with kosher salt and black pepper.

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I love that if there is a vegetable tray within a mile, my daughter will stand in front of it and eat all the raw broccoli and cauliflower. She loves Brussels sprouts. And asparagus; one of her favorites.

So, I cooked rice and chicken and cut the asparagus into bite size pieces while she made her Valentines for her class party on Friday. The Ziploc bags have red and pink kisses all over them.

“Mom. I cannot give these to the boys!”

So the boys get plain. And one day…they won’t.

FAIL

I haven’t had a complete failure in the kitchen in a very long time. Last night…was epic.

The child has been requesting lasagna for a few weeks. We were expecting a huge ice storm by early evening. I stopped at the grocery and picked up sauce and three different cheeses. At the checkout, I saw that someone had neglected to take a significant amount of change from the machine. I tried to find the guy who had been in front of me outside, but the parking lot had eight hundred and fortyleven people in it. I took the money to customer service. My payment for bringing good karma on myself was this disgusting dish:

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I don’t even know what to say about that hideous mess. The sauce tasted like your fork when you would accidentally rub it on your TV dinner.

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Do not buy this. It is foul. But you probably won’t listen to me, and you’ll buy it anyway, and then I’ll say, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” because I am not one of those “Told ya” kind of people, so if you want to waste yo’ monies…feel free. Here’s my shoulder.

Sweet daughter had a hot dog and pickles for dinner, and I grabbed the bag of corn chips and some salsa. Emptied the jar into my favorite salsa bowl. Opened the chips. And they were FREAKING NO SALT ADDED. WHO DOES THE FAHKING SHOPPING AROUND HERE?

Then today, I worked from home and every. single. thing. I ate was some form of chocolate. I made my frittata for breakfast. My daughter was still hungry, so I chopped an apple for her and gave her some caramel. She didn’t finish all the caramel, so I threw it away. Then I got it out of the garbage and put it on some chocolate coconut milk Trader Joe’s ice cream. That was a low point. And it wasn’t great on it, either.

At dinner, I burned my child’s pizza, and the snicker doodles.

So much for karma.

I Can See Clearly Now

So, a few months ago, I suddenly couldn’t see out of my right eye. I mean…I could see, but it was as if someone had licked my right lens in my eye glasses. Don’t ask how I know to compare it to that. I went to the eye doctor and had them adjust my glasses. It helped a little, and then the next week I was back to seeing not only double but quadruple of anything that was illuminated. This made driving at night and working on the computer impossible. Back to the eye doctor I went. Another adjustment and a recommendation to come in for a glasses check. I’d only had them a month. I thought perhaps the prescription was a little off and I just hadn’t noticed. I don’t drive a lot at night since my child is in bed at 8 p.m. But, during the day, I was taking my glasses off repeatedly trying to focus on the computer screen.

I went in for the eye glasses check-up. I took my daughter with me simply thinking they would order a new lens. When the eye doctor started to hyperventilate, I got a tad bit panicky. “Have. You. Had. An. Eye. Injury?” he asked. No. I do remember poking myself in the eye with my mascara wand, but from what I gathered…that wouldn’t have caused it. What I think would have caused it would have been an fork to the eyeball from 16 stories.  I burst into silent tears, scaring my poor child out of her wits. All I could hear was my mother saying, “You only get two eyes” like she had said to me so many times as a child. And, for the life of me, I can’t remember why.

I was instructed to wait to hear from a local eye institute for my appointment. They called the next day and made the appointment for a month later. I told the receptionist that I kind of had a feeling it was a little more urgent than that. She said the receptionist made the appointment, but hadn’t spoken to the doctor. She said she would call him and call me back. She did. And then she said, “Yeah. That appointment isn’t going to work.”

A few days later, I was sitting in the waiting room wondering if I was going to have to have rings inserted under my cornea or a cornea transplant. You know…’cause I Wikipediaed it. Keratoconus. A warping of the cornea. In a matter of a few months, my astigmatism had gone from 1.25 to 7.50. I am not an eye doctor, but I can see the seriousness of such a change.

After several doctors came in to check my eye, I was informed I have an “excessive dry eye.” Seriously? Dry eye? You have to be kidding. The head doctor guy said, “I don’t understand how your eye doesn’t bother you.” Well, that’s because I’m a woman. I don’t have time to be bothered.

I was instructed to apply gel drops to my eye twice a day, and an ointment at night. And then twenty 80-year-olds and I were recommended to a dry eye clinic. Awesome. After several weeks, I’m fine. Eyes are back to normal. Thankfully. I have to continue the drops when needed (and considering I wasn’t bothered by it the last time, I’m just going to do it every day). I also have to take fish oil. Evidently, my oil glands in my eye do not express much. I know this because the doctor numbed my eye ball and then squeezed the shet out of my inner bottom lid. I refrained and only said one swear word one time. He apologized and accepted that I probably didn’t like him very much anymore.

The other kicker is (and this is far too much information), I had started taking birth control pills. There may have been a correlation, so I had to forgo the pill for a while. Now, I understand completely that vision. is. of. the. utmost. importance. But I am a selfish bitch, and I really enjoyed not having two cycles a month that each lasted nine days. So, I have the go-ahead to start the pill again and if anything changes with my vision, I need to notify them right away.

So, to end the evening in complete comfort, I made chili. If it was just for me, I would have added chilies and onion. My daughter would have eaten it anyway, but since she refuses to go to the bathroom at school, I thought I’d spare her the added agony. Last night’s dinner was one of those nights I dislike so much; dinner was all the same color: cod, mashed potatoes, applesauce. Bore. Ing. Image

  • 1.5 lbs. ground beef/turkey
  • 1 28 oz. can of Dei Fratelli tomato sauce
  • 1 (15 oz.) can spicy chili beans
  • 1 (15 oz.) can diced tomatoes
  • cinnamon and chili powder

Brown the meat. Drain and add to pot. Add tomato sauce, beans, and tomatoes. Heat through. Sprinkle chili powder and cinnamon on top and stir. I always end with the cinnamon. Don’t know why.

Meanwhile, I cooked quinoa spaghetti, drained it, and added it to the chili.

It’s perfect for lunch for the kiddo in her Thermos, especially on these very cold days covered in snow. She has to have shredded cheese on top, which I put in a container with a snap-in ice pack. I usually pack a side of berries or cucumber slices with it. And a little bit of dark chocolate covered Raisinettes for dessert. And her glasses. Don’t forget her glasses.

You Growns Up And You Growns Up And You Growns Up

You know you’re an adult when you wake up one day and your celebrity crush is no longer Shawn Cassidy, but Eric Ripert/Anthony Bourdain/Nigella Lawson (?) and the like.

Tonight I made pork tenderloin. I’ve posted it before, but never the recipe. I don’t know if I actually know the recipe. I saw Eric Ripert cook it once. It involves butter and honey. Heat on an oven proof skillet. Pork tenderloin should be browned on all sides. Place in 375 degree oven until cooked through/to your liking. Heat the sauce and add boiling water (not much). Pour heated sauce over tenderloin. Devour.

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It is SO amazing. I served it with lima beans and sweet potato fries. (I am in the midst of a freezer/fridge/cupboard clean out. The meals will only get weirder from here on out.

AND! AND! AND! My daughter made this for me! My chef’s uniform. It was a great Friday.

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Cleanin’ Out My Closet

Not really–my freezer. But I love Eminem, and that phrase pops into my head multiple times a day. It’s like a tic. Think of it when I actually AM cleaning out my closet. It’s amazing.

Anyhoo…

I made soup for dinner. Soup is one of my favorite things in the entire world. I could live off of soup. If I was on a deserted island and I could take 5 Things, soup would be one of them. And after three years, when I was finally able to make FIYAH…I would eat the hell out of that soup.

Of course, if I was stuck on a deserted island, I would make soup out of whatever I found laying around (or growing around) which is pretty much what I do when I make soup at home. I look in my fridge and freezer and use whatever needs to be used.

Tonight’s soup consisted of: lima beans, green/red/yellow peppers, onions, peas, and corn. I added chicken that needed to be used from Sunday night, and gluten free corn spaghetti. I spiced it with sage, thyme, paprika, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Used Pacific Natural Foods Free Range Chicken Broth. I added equal parts boiling water (from the Twining’s Naturally Decaffeinated Irish Breakfast cuppa tea I made). Then I topped it with shredded mild cheddar jack cheese. (I like my soup with little broth and mostly stuff which does NOT make it a stew.) FREAKING. DELICIOUS.

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Calm down.

Sweet potato fries.

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And a tiny glass of wine that also HAD to be used from Sunday’s dinner with friends. This wine is delicious. I highly recommend it. I can’t drink red wine anymore. And gluten free beer doesn’t sit well with me lately. But I like this wine:

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…and margaritas.

The child loved the soup and I am certain there were peppers in there which went unnoticed, because TRUST ME you would’ve heard about it.