Just for fun

You say po-ta-to, I say no po-tah-to

I hate to say what I’m about to say. There are some things that are almost too embarrassing to say out loud.

I have never had mashed potatoes with a Thanksgiving meal. Until yesterday I honestly thought I was in the majority of Thanksgiving diners. But 90+ comments later, wherein the majority of y’all professed an undying love of the Thanksgiving potato, have opened my eyes to the cruel reality that is my life.

I have been deprived of an additional carb at the Thanksgiving table. I feel like I’m on an episode of Maury Povich and can hear the studio audience audibly gasping as my darkest family secrets are revealed.

But let me state for the record, P’s family never served mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving either. Which leads me to believe that God brought us together so that we can share our common grief over what were, obviously, deprived holidays. It’s a wonder we survived, what with just the turkey, dressing, cranberries, and green bean casserole.

The horror of it all.

Anyway, several of y’all asked for the recipes I mentioned, specifically the Broccoli-Rice Casserole and my mother-in-law’s dressing. I am more than happy to share those recipes with y’all along with my recipe for mashed potatoes.

Oh, that’s right. I’ve never had mashed potatoes with Thanksgiving dinner.

Obviously I’m trying to block that out.

Broccoli-Rice Casserole

1 medium onion chopped and sauteed in 1/2 stick of butter
2 packages of frozen, chopped broccoli
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1 cup cooked rice
1 8oz jar of Cheez Whiz (personally I prefer the spicy Cheez Whiz)
Salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients and bake at 350 in a greased 9 X 13 baking dish for 1 hour.

Don’t let the sophistication of this recipe scare y’all off. I know just the thought of using a gourmet food like Cheez Whiz is a little intimidating, but it will be so worth it.

Unless of course you’re like my in-laws. I brought my beloved Broccoli-Rice Casserole to my mother-in-law’s Thanksgiving one year and everyone looked at it like I had just set a steaming cow poop on the dining room table.

What do they know? They don’t even have mashed potatoes with their Thanksgiving meal.

The dressing doesn’t have a formal name so I will just call it the BEST dressing ever.

Best Dressing Ever

2 recipes Corn Bread – day old and ground (corn bread recipe down below)
14 biscuits – day old and ground
2 tsp. Poultry Seasoning
2 tsp. Seasoned Salt
1 1/2 sticks butter
4 eggs
1/2 tsp. pepper
3 cups chopped celery (about 1 1/2 bunches)
1 1/2 cups chopped onions
3 cans chicken broth

In a large dutch oven, saute onions and celery in 1 1/2 sticks butter until tender. Add other ingredients and moisten with chicken broth (about 3 cans). Refrigerate overnight.

Reheat as turkey is roasting. Add pan drippings to moisten and season to taste with additional poultry seasoning, seasoned salt and pepper. Stir frequently, scraping the bottom of the pan.

Cornbread for Dressing

2 cups cornmeal
2 cups buttermilk
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 eggs
2 tbs. vegetable oil

Beat eggs. Add other ingredients. Melt 1/4 stick butter in a 7 x 11 Pyrex dish in preheating oven. Pour batter into hot pan. Bake at 450 for about 25 minutes.

Cut into large squares and put on a cookie sheet with the baked biscuits. Cover loosely with a clean dish towel and let sit out for a day before grinding.

And lastly, for the perfect accompaniment to the BEST dressing ever, make some homemade cranberry sauce. Eating cranberries straight from the can may be worse than not having mashed potatoes, if that’s possible. It’s just uncivilized and could be grounds for having your American citizenship revoked.

Cranberry Sauce

1 12 oz package of cranberries
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup water
1 tsp. grated orange rind

Gently boil sugar and water for 5 minutes. Add cranberries and simmer uncovered without stirring for 5 minutes. Skim off some of the foam. Stir in orange rind. Pour into bowl and cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until served.

At some point in the next day or so, I’ll share the recipe for Chocolate Ice Box Pudding complete with a photo cooking tutorial. The above recipes don’t get a photo tutorial because I’m not making them.

I’ll be too busy whipping up some mashed potatoes and trying to erase our shameful family legacy while Caroline is still young enough to not be permanently scarred.
Talking turkey

I’ve had a terribly exciting weekend but, frankly, I’m too tired to discuss it right now. I’ll get to it at some point but it won’t be today.

So, instead, let’s talk about Thanksgiving.

And now that I think about it, “terribly exciting” might be overselling the weekend. Let’s just say we’ve had fun.

Over the last week, Gulley and I have had several indepth conversations about Thanksgiving meals we have had throughout our lifetimes and it has made us wonder what most people have for Thanksgiving dinner.

I mean, obviously, turkey. And dressing. And probably cranberries.

And spaghetti with meat sauce.

Oh wait, that was probably just at my Me-ma and Pa-pa’s house.

As far back as I can remember, the dish that says Thanksgiving to me is Broccoli-Rice Casserole.

An old Indian legend actually recalls the tense atmosphere at the first Thanksgiving because the Pilgrims totally forgot the Broccoli-Rice casserole. They tried to make some lame excuse about the Cheez Whiz going bad on the Mayflower, but the Indians knew the Pilgrims were full of crap and the real story was they didn’t want to take the time to microwave the rice.

Anyway, my Aunt Sandra used to always be in charge of the Broccoli-Rice. Even though I have her exact recipe, mine still never tastes as good as hers did. I would pile it on my plate because I have always been a dainty eater.

Growing up, I was never really a fan of turkey and dressing. I ate it because it was there, but I never really cared for it one way or the other.

It’s kind of like how I watched “Saved by the Bell” throughout college. I never cared about Kelly Kapowski or Zack Morris or even Jessie Spano, but it was the only thing on from 3-5 p.m. and what else was I going to do with my time?

If you answered study then let me welcome you to my blog. Read the archives and see if they don’t make you change your answer.

The first Thanksgiving I spent with P’s family forever changed the way I viewed turkey and dressing. His mama makes the best dressing in the world. Seriously. She cooks it on the stove, whereas the dressing I always had growing up was baked in a 9 x 13 pan and could be cut in squares.

A bite of his mama’s dressing combined with cranberry sauce is a pretty close second to Broccoli-Rice casserole.

Everything else my family had for Thanksgiving was pretty typical. Green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, fruit salad, something congealed that nobody really wanted but somehow made it on the table, and pumpkin pie for dessert.

And speaking of dessert, P’s family also has chocolate ice box pudding for dessert. I don’t want to say that I would have married him just to get the recipe for the chocolate ice box pudding, but I might have considered it.

So, what about y’all? What food has to be on your Thanksgiving table for it to be the perfect meal?

And please, don’t say a congealed salad. I don’t think my stomach can handle it.

Especially if it’s lime green with some nuts on the top, because the only thing worse than congealed salad is a congealed salad that is a color not found in nature.

Oh, and one more question that I can’t come up with a smooth transition for; what about mashed potatoes? Do you have mashed potatoes with your Thanksgiving meal?

The mashed potatoes have been the source of much debate. I had no idea potatoes could be so controversial.

Of course that may be why people say you should never discuss religion, potatoes or politics.
Someone help me, help me please

Okay, so I have been at war with myself over whether or not to write this post. But the part of me that cares about what people think has lost the battle. I am compelled to share something with the world wide web that is causing me to swallow my pride.

Put your hands in the air if you watched (and loved) The Osmond Family on Oprah last Friday.

I’m so ashamed.

I wanted to think that I was above Osmondmania. In fact, I almost deleted the entire show off my DVR. But the kind hand of television fate intervened, and since P had taken Caroline to the ranch for the whole day on Sunday and I had time on my hands, I decided to go ahead and watch the first few minutes just to see how The Osmonds were holding up.

Oh, pride goeth before a fall.

I have prided myself that I have been above watching Marie on “Dancing With The Stars”, even after hearing she passed out cold on national television. And, really, that’s just good T.V.

I have even scoffed at Marie selling her dolls on QVC because, really, the whole doll collection thing is just beyond my realm of comprehension.

Please don’t be offended if you collect dolls. That’s great. I’m just saying that they kind of creep me out. I’m not proud of the fact that I still have to remove all the dolls from the room I sleep in when I visit my Nanny. It’s just who I am.

I’m a big coward who is afraid of glass eyes that stare off into space and heads topped with unnaturally flipped hair with jaunty berets on top.

Anyway, The Osmonds. I’m fascinated. There were like over 632 of them on Oprah’s stage and not one of them has an immediate family of less than 26 children or something like that. And they all look alike. And they all have perpetual smiles.

And I am afraid I am going to be tempted to shell out big bucks to attend The Osmond Family Reunion Tour.

I know. I’m frightening even myself.

Oh, I pretend to be above it all, but I AM NOT. I am a weak vessel given to waves of 70’s nostalgia.

After all, Donny Osmond was really my first love.

I would spend Friday nights not more than 5 inches away from our huge console television because I believed Donny could see me watching him while I wore my purple socks. I felt connected to him because I understood his love of purple socks and I, too, believed I was a little bit rock-n-roll.

Sadly, this wouldn’t be the last time I would decide something was my favorite thing because it was also the favorite thing of the boy I liked. Hence, my great love of Dr. Pepper throughout my 7th and 8th grade years because of a guy named Kendall. I was sure our common bond of drinking Dr. Pepper would seal our joy for eternity. But then he moved out of town and I went back to drinking Coke, which at the time was Coke Classic because of a huge marketing blunder by the bigwigs at the Coca-Cola company.

Where was I?

Oh, Donny.

I remember being heartbroken when I found out that Donny couldn’t actually see me through the T.V. screen. I just knew if he could see me he would be immediately smitten with the six year old girl in her Snoopy nightgown, missing her front tooth, re-enacting the entire “Donny and Marie Show” with her Donny and Marie dolls complete with soundstage set.

And really, I can’t even get into how envious I was of my friend ZZ, who not only had a Donny and Marie lunchbox, but also a Donny and Marie 8-track player. I believe that’s when I learned firsthand what the Bible means when it says “Do not covet your neighbor’s donkey”…or their 8-track player.

But then, Donny and I grew apart. His show went off the air, he got married, and I was over him. It was a tough transition but, eventually, Rick Springfield came along and I forgot all about Donny.

I believe it was 1988 when he came back on the scene with “Soldier of Love”.

Anyone?

“Soldier of Love”?

Until now, I have never publicly admitted how much I liked that song, but I did. I may have even bought the cassette tape.

Oh, the shame.

So, when I Donny and Marie opened the Oprah show with a medley of songs that was reminiscent of The Sweeney Sisters, I was ready to point and laugh with disdain. I was prepared to roll my eyes and ask no one in particular, who cares about The Osmonds anymore?

But then, Donny began singing “Puppy Love” and either I had allergies or I might have had a tear in my eye over what we used to have.

I’ll never tell which one it was.
Farewell to (maternity) arms

Well, the stomach ailment turned out to be more than a one shot deal. It was more along the lines of an hourly occurrence until about 6 a.m. Friday morning.

Here’s the amazing thing, I have never seen someone so cheerful in the midst of a stomach bug.

It was like this intestinal virus was the best thing that had ever happened to her. “Wow, MAMA! I threw up AGAIN! DID YOU SEE THAT? I MADE IT TO THE POTTY!!” Like she was announcing she’d just ridden the best roller coaster ever while they handed out cotton candy simultaneously.

God bless her.

In fact, she begged to go to school Friday morning. And trust me, the sleep deprived me, who had been doing laundry non-stop for about 8 hours, wanted nothing more than to send her to school. However, common sense prevailed and I realized nothing alienates fellow mamas more than spreading the bounty of a stomach virus.

We survived the plague and pestilence, and rebounded to have a pretty uneventful weekend.

In fact, by Sunday afternoon I decided it was time for the bi-annual cleaning out of my closet. This is an event that is highly anticipated around here, much like a root canal.

After church I decided to take the plunge and just go for it. P walked into our closet and this is what he saw.

He was quick to tell me I was being highly optimistic getting down all my sweaters out of storage. I like to call it wishful organizing.

For some reason I base my wardrobe choices on the month of the year rather than something sensible and logical such as temperature. I have grown weary of my summer wardrobe, plus the highs will only be in the 80’s this week.

The high 80’s.

That’s just chilly. If you’re over 95 years old.

Anyway, a while back, my friend E found out she was pregnant. I joyfully and generously offered her all my old maternity clothes. She came over and loaded them up in her car. About a month ago, shortly before her due date, she brought back all my clothes.

As I hung them back up, in the far recesses of my closet, I realized something.

They were hideous.

Okay, not all of them were hideous. There were, like, two decent shirts.

E was being sweet and polite, but $50.00 says she didn’t wear any of those clothes. And I don’t blame her one bit. I was completely delusional about my maternity wear offerings.

I wanted to call her and apologize for causing her to have to keep those clothes in her closet for 6 months. Most of all, I knew I had to get them back out of my closet before they contaminated my normal clothes. I told P I was getting rid of all my maternity clothes because, even if I were to ever get pregnant again, there is no way I could wear those clothes. It could cause lifelong fashion scars for my unborn child.

Here are a few prime examples of the ugly: (it was hard to narrow down the worst offenders)

Nothing is as attractive as horizontal stripes in bright colors when you’re 40 pounds over your normal weight.

Did I really think anyone would think I was on my way to play rugby?

Mmm. Overalls. So attractive anyway, but once you shove a tummy the size of a watermelon under those suckers, you’ve got a look that will cause people to pity you to no end. I am sad to say I wore these almost daily.

I now realize I looked like a fat farmer wearing shorts.

And these. Check out that panel. You pull out these bad boys and you’ve got yourself an incredibly effective form of birth control.

This isn’t maternity, but it is a “leather” skirt I bought on sale at Gap about 8 years ago. I haven’t worn it in about 6 years, but couldn’t bear to throw it out because it only cost $6.99. It was such a triumphal bargain moment at the time.

Of course that time was 1999.

So, between the maternity clothes and other items that needed to go, look how much stuff I cleaned out.

Since I’m acting like some sort of fashion expert every Friday on the internet, I realized PHYSICIAN, HEAL THYSELF.

And when it was all said and done, this is what I’m left with.

A glorious, organized closet filled with sweaters, jeans, and boots.

Now I just need some cool weather.

And another sweater coat.

Preferably from Anthropologie.

Oh, and in the last picture try not to notice the huge, white down jacket a la The Michelin Man. I got it on clearance from J. Crew about 5 or 12 years ago and I can’t bear to let it go.

Even though, as P was quick to remind me, there’s a much better chance of me having another baby than there is of me going skiing ever again.

It’s not that I don’t like skiing. I do.

I just don’t like the part that involves riding in a chair lift or actually going down the mountain.

Other than that, it’s a lovely activity.
Warning, this will stay in your head all day

Feist – 1 2 3 4

Ever since Apple started using this song in the iPod Nano commercials, I’ve found myself walking around singing, “one, two, three, four…”

It has embedded itself in my brain. Which proves my theory that Apple is attempting to take over the world.

Then, I found this video and it’s oddly compelling.

Plus, coming off Fashion Week, I feel there is nothing more moving than watching someone dance while wearing a blue sequined, strapless jumpsuit.

That’s fashion at its best right there. It takes me right back to the days of watching Soul Train on Saturday mornings.
Various and sundry items

Maybe it’s because I’ve had more than my fair share of caffeinated beverages, but I have about 152 thoughts running through my head. And instead of weaving them all into some type of thoughtful, concise post, I’m going to fall back on my old friend, the list.

Oh, list. I have missed you and how easy you make my life.

1. Over the last 6 months, I have developed an unhealthy addiction to Ghiradelli’s Double Chocolate Brownie mix. I try to turn away when I see them winking at me from the shelf at HEB, but I have been powerless.

I am but a weak vessel.

So, this week, as a healthy alternative, I bought Krusteaz Fat-Free Brownie mix. It’s basically just some powder and you add water. I made them last night.

And they almost taste like real brownies if you close your eyes and don’t think about it too much. Eating them while drinking a fifth of vodka wouldn’t hurt either.

2. Several of y’all asked where I got Caroline’s cute outfit. It’s a brand called Mis Tee V-Us and I love all their stuff. I usually wait until it goes on sale at a local boutique, but I know you can find it online. A kids’ clothing site I love is bestdressedkids.com.

Cute, cute, cute.

3. For those of y’all who weren’t sure what the Ostrich packet had to do with anything, I will help you out. The Ostrich was but one type of rubber band I had to endure throughout my long, arduous orthodontia journey.

I will be digging miniature rubberbands out of the bottom of my makeup bag and various purses for many years to come.

4. Also, thanks for the reminders to wear my retainers. However, since Dr. Kevorkian apparently pegged me as a non-compliant patient, he put permanent retainers behind both my top and bottom teeth.

These suckers aren’t going anywhere. And honestly, if I had to carry a retainer around in a plastic case, it wouldn’t last a month. I can barely keep up with my wallet, which contains money…sometimes.

5. Gulley came over this morning and I said something about my new Favorite Things page. She said she didn’t realize I was updating it everyday and said I needed to communicate that piece of information to other readers who may be in the dark.

So, yes. I am adding new links to my Favorites page every day. As Forrest Gump says, it’s like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.

6. And last but not least, many of y’all requested a picture of me. I have been hesitant to post a picture on the blog, not due to privacy issues, but due to the fact that I find myself incredibly unphotogenic. I have serious photo issues.

But since y’all have endured this orthodontia nightmare with me and been so kind as to offer your support and condolences, I feel it is only fair to show you the fruits of your labor. This is a self-portrait because honestly, the idea of holding a photo shoot with P behind the camera seemed silly.

I also thought about calling my friend AJ, who is a professional photographer, but seeing as how she had foot and hip surgery a week ago, it seemed a little vain to ask her if she could hobble on over here and snap some shots. For free. Or at least in return for some red and orange Sour Patch kids, because she doesn’t like the yellow and green ones.

I’m procrastinating. Here I am.

Y’all have a great weekend!

Oh, and we’ll have a new podcast up sometime this weekend. It will be chockfull of all the deep insight y’all have come to expect.