Unclean Meat, The Gospel, and Cavemen

Coach is in the living room watching Walking the Amazon on Animal Planet, a program about two British guys who have decided to walk the banks of the Amazon, grill piranha for sustenance, and live under a tarp. He's riveted.

It's a step up from The Turtle Man though; about a month ago I spent 30 minutes watching a man wrestle a family of skunks out of a Kentucky woman's duct work, take his mother to a barn dance, brush his tooth, and take a tomato juice bath in a Rubbermaid container on the front porch.

Needless to say, I've had quite a bit of time to think, which is generally a bad idea. My thoughts and I bring out the worst in each other.

However, it was during one of these silly shows that we saw a commercial for Cadbury Eggs, and I realized Easter is less than a month away. I also realized my weight-loss goals might be a little lofty. 

Incidentally, if anyone has the secret to dropping twenty pounds in twenty-some-odd days, I'd appreciate a tip.

So, lofty or not, I've rededicated myself to Weight Watchers in preparation for warm weather.

Coach is doing some sort of Paleo diet where he eats mulch and almond butter, but the rest of us enjoy human food.

In a moment of very uncharacteristic productivity Sunday afternoon, I made a menu, a grocery list, and I've prepared healthy meals that do not include twigs, berries, or pine bark to the Momsense home all week.

Last night we had pork with a pineapple-soy marinade and an orange marmalade glaze. I also cooked fresh green beans and wild rice.

Coach refused to eat rice because rice is a grain, and paleolithic cavemen don't eat grains. Never mind that cavemen are no longer with us(thank you Social Darwinism), a fact that seems to be lost on my science teacher/husband.

AC balked at the green beans for sport.

And G, the one I can depend on to eat anything, announced he doesn't eat pork.

I reminded him that he does eat pork.

"Mom," he said, "I'm not eating pork. It's an unclean meat. Read your Bible. WE don't eat pork."

If you're new here, let me clarify something for you. We're not Jewish.

We're Baptist. Southern Baptist. We eat pork. We don't publicly admit to drinking "likker" as my grandaddy used to say, but we eat pork. As a matter of fact, you'd be hard pressed to find a dish at a Baptist potluck that didn't include Velveeta Cheese and some sort of smoked pork product.

So I replied, "Well thankfully for you, we're walking in victory on the other side of the Cross, which means that you get to enjoy eternal life AND pork without damnation. There's a reason we call it The Good News."

So, he covered it with Tabasco sauce, complained that pork had a "piggy" texture, and rolled his eyes.

Tonight we're having mulch.

See Y'all!

Feelin' Groovy

Listen, I'm not even going to pretend that I know the secret to your children's happiness.

Truth? I'm not going to pretend I know the secret to my children's happiness.

The one thing I do know? As soon as you think you have life figured out with your happy little family, someone lobs a grenade right in the middle of it and blows it all to hell.

If you've been around a while, you know this is generally a place to come and read about the Coach's antics and the funnier moments of parenting.

You also know that posting has been sporadic for a while, so you sent me e-mails asking me if everything was okay. Some of you begged me to write about my hilarious family, and others of you just sent gracious notes letting me know you were praying, but you weren't sure why.  They weren't wasted.  God has been faithful, and we are fine, but I don't mind telling you it hasn't been my favorite season of life.

The last eighteen months at the Momsense home have not been funny, and everyone has reached the age where some things just need to be private.

We've had a tough time, and in the lucid moments we knew it would be temporary.

The problem is that when you're in the middle of raising kids, the moments of lucidity are few and far between.

So, I've been quiet.

The children, however, have not.

Our pediatrician told me last year that there are three stages of puberty.

We've got 'em all. At once.

Three different varieties of crazy all interacting with one another for one of the wildest rides I've ever been on.

We've got pimples, mood swings, bloating, spontaneous crying - and that's just me.

The one common denominator has been a temporary depression in each of the children.

Each child acted differently, but each one of them experienced it.

The one common denominator in getting them on the road back to themselves was listening to them.

And double doses of Benadryl.

Oh, I kid. I'd never medicate them for peace and quiet, but don't think for a minute I wouldn't medicate myself.

So listen to them, and bite your tongue for a bit. You'll hear what they are trying to tell you, and then you just have to trust that the good Lord will show up and tell you where to go from there.

So listen. He'll show up; you'll know what to do.

Until then- get yourself some Benadryl.

You can also go here to join me in a conversation about helping our children find their happy, and you can enter BlogHer's sweepstakes.

See Y'all!

You Can't Ride Two Horses With One Ass

On an average day I am lazy, undisciplined, and easily distracted.  (Slackers Unite!)

Enter Pinterest, Facebook, Solitaire, and The Amandas. And Friday Night Lights. And Food TV. And watching paint dry.

And my iPhone.

That's part of my excuse for abandoning the blog. I've been riding one too many horses lately, and we all know you can't ride two (or forty) horses with one ass.

Unless you're JLo, and I am not.

"I'm just a girl looking for a boy..." Can you name the movie? Can you name my learning difference? 

Anyway, late last summer my phone stopped accepting phone calls. Everything else worked fine; it just simply decided it didn't really see itself as a phone. So, we parted ways.

I had an upgrade, the iPhone was on sale, and I had just read an article that said Kelly Ripa was able to manage her entire life with her iPhone. The article said she was an iPhone ninja.

Thus my quest to become an iPhone ninja began. It's fair to say that the first few months of owning the iPhone was counter-productive. I spent hours searching for apps. HOURS.

I ended up with was a few photo apps and Sit or Squat, an app that uses your location to tell you where the nearest public restroom can be found.

I have a hostile colon. More on that another day. Let's just say Sit or Squat has been helpful. If you have a toddler in the throes of potty-training or a spouse with a hostile colon you might give it a whirl.

Enough about colons and toddlers. I spent dozens of fruitless hours looking for apps that would prove me an iPhone ninja.

Enter appSmitten.

appSmitten is a weekly newsletter that selects and e-mails personal application recommendations based on your interests. I have downloaded and used almost every application that appSmitten has recommended. (I've been test-driving it for a couple of weeks.) 

There is one application in particular that has changed my life. Seriously. I'll tell you about it later this week- I don't want to ruin the fun.

appSmitten does all the work for you by sifting through over 1 million applications so that you don't have to spend hours doing it yourself.  I

The newsletter is free, and you can elect to receive it either daily or weekly. I'm a weekly gal.

And it's not just for the iPhone. They make recommendations for Android, iPhone, and iPad.

And it's free. (Did I say that?) So, what are you waiting for? Get the newsletter here. 

You're welcome.

 See y'all!

(This is a sponsored review for appSmitten.)

Sunday Supper: Edition 36

Hey there!  


The Momsense is coming back tomorrow!  More on where I've been and what's new around here later, but for now I thought I'd repost an old Sunday Supper post with some recipes you can use to placate your people in a pinch.


It's raining outside.  Hard.  Really, really hard.  I'm not a fan of rain or storms; they scare me, and besides rain is messy.

Case in point:  First, Coach and I decided to drive over to the mall to pick up a mirror we had ordered a sweet forever ago.  It finally came in.  There were visions, albeit fleeting visions, of me rearranging the dining room and hanging said mirror today. 

Yeah, that's not going to happen.  I've made it back into pajamas.  I think all that's in my immediate future is Girl Scout Cookies and watching Julie and Julia.

As we headed to the mall, we were temporarily diverted to a little pizza place for a buffet lunch when the skies opened up and the messy rain started to fall.

The short version of this story ends this way:  pouring rain, a parking lot with a clogged storm drain and a couple of feet of standing water.  There was a loading dock involved.   Coach got out to get the mirror, and subsequently had much trouble fitting the mirror into the back seat of the truck.  In the pouring rain.

After a few minutes of grumbling things like "I don't know why we pick a day with tornadoes and pouring rain to do this, he finally managed to get the mirror in the backseat. 

And he got back into the car.  Huffing.

Me:  "What?"

Coach:  "The thing is huge.  Why did we do this today?  You knew how big it was."

Me:  "It's only 48 inches tall.  That's not that big."

Coach:  "It's four feet!"

Me:  "Well, all the kids are over four feet, and we fit all three of them back there."

Coach:  "THEY BEND AT THE WAIST."

Me:  "Uggh.  Whatever.  It's fine."

Anyway, Coach was not amused.  The converstation had to take another turn at that point or it was clear he was going to implode.  So, I strategically asked him a question about the NFL draft, because my  momma didn't raise a dummy,  and an argument was successfully avoided.

Until we got home.

I went to the bathroom, and while I was in there I heard running water...behind me...where there is a wall...a wall with no plumbing.

Me: "Hey, come in here and see if you think this is a leak, or if it's just the rain hitting the roof."

Coach:  "Craaaaap.  That's not rain hitting the roof.  That's rain running between the walls."

Me:  "Should we get on the roof and check?"

Coach: "Yes, WE will have to do that.  YOU stay here."

So he suited up, grabbed the ladder and climbed on the roof. 

Coach:  "Babe- I need some garbage bags."

At that point he climbed down the ladder, gathered a large tarp and several bricks,  I gave him the trash bags, and he climbed back up.  Then he fell.  I know that because I heard the thud and the loud grumblings of a man who was not at all enjoying the rain.

Yeah- so we have a leak.  Actually Coach says a critter of some sort has chewed away the boot that surrounds an exhaust tube-thingy on the roof so he could get in the house.

WHAT???? ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

So, we have to have a roofer out this week.  Subsequently, we have at least one of the children up for sale.  It's a recession- we can have a roof without leaks or three children.  We can't have both.  Tough break.  It was nice knowing them though.

Anyway, I don't think I'm going to be able to con Coach out of his foul storm/roof-induced mood.  It may take some serious work in the kitchen.  So, here's what I'm planning for tomorrow:

3-Way Amnesia Burgers

2 bunches scallions, for grilling
Olive oil
1 pound lean ground chuck
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Applewood smoked bacon
4 slices aged smoked Cheddar
Carmelized Red Onions
*Toasted Kaiser rolls (actually, we're using 100 calorie sandwich rounds because of the Weight Watchers)

Cut the root ends off the scallions. Brush with olive oil and place on grill. Grill both sides until grill marks appear. Remove from the grill to a cutting board. Chop and set aside.  Place ground beef in a bowl and add chopped scallions, about 1 tablespoon salt and 1 tablespoon ground pepper. Mix together and form into patties about 1/2-inch thick.  Wrap 1 slice applewood bacon around each patty and place on grill, about 5 to 6 minutes on each side for medium-well. Top burgers with cheese the last minute of cooking. Place on platter, cover with foil and set aside.

Chipotle BBQ Sauce

1/2 stick butter
3 tablespoons minced garlic
8 ounces tomato paste
2 1/2 cups water
1 small can chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, seeds removed and chopped
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
3 tablespoons yellow mustard
1/4 cup ketchup
1/4 cup dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon paprika
3 tablespoons molasses
2 tablespoons honey
1/4 cup black cherry preserves
2 teaspoons ground cumin

 Melt butter in large saucepan. Add the garlic, tomato paste and water. Stir until tomato paste dissolves. Add the chopped chipotle peppers (seeds removed), peppers and sauce to the pan. Stir to combine. Add the remaining ingredients and simmer for about 30 minutes.  Strain and set aside.
 
Carmelized Red Onions

4 large Spanish red onions
1/2 stick butter
Minced garlic
Sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper
1 cup Chipotle BBQ Sauce

Thinly slice the red onions. Melt butter in skillet and add garlic, onions and salt and pepper, to taste. Cook stirring occasionally until wilted. Add 1 cup Chipotle BBQ sauce simmer for 30 minutes.

Now- put your burger together with some carmelized onions and enjoy.  Hopefully Coach will forget all about the rain, the mirror, and the roof troubles...

And the fact that he is obsessive about his Weight Watchers points.  Then, serve the burger with these...

Sweet Potato Fries

2 sweet potatoes, washed
2 tablespoons canola oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Place a baking sheet in the oven.  On a cutting board, slice the sweet potatoes in half lengthwise. Slice each half into 6 wedges. Place wedges in a large bowl, add canola oil, season with salt and pepper, to taste, and toss to coat.  Remove the baking sheet from the oven. Place the fries onto the baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes. Turn the fries and bake for another 15 minutes until brown and crispy. Transfer to a serving bowl and serve.

See y'all!

Ode to Adipose

Well, I've purposely avoided all the New Year's resolution hoopla by, you know, just not blogging at all.

Personally, I'm not a fan of resolutions because I tend to get carried away, and before you know it I've come up with so many resolutions that if I actually followed through on a third of them I would be completely unrecognizable to myself and all who know, er, knew me.

And then I usually end up making some sort of chocolate cake and further validating my belief that New Year's resolutions are not part of my personal mission statement.

And speaking of chocolate cake...

I just finished a book titled Why Women Need Fat by Dr. William D. Lassek and Dr. Stephen J.C. Gaulin. I have to tell you, this is the kind of book I can get behind. It has a very clear and encouraging title, and it has a picture of a very appetizing chocolate dessert.

And then? It tells us that by eating said chocolate and other various fats, we can look like Jessica Alba.

Well, sort of.

The basic premise is this- that when the food industry started using cheap hydrogenated oils we started getting fatter. Then they give pages and pages of fascinating studies on everything from why the Europeans and Japanese are smaller and healthier than us to why men find Playboy models attractive (and incidentally, it's not for the two reasons you think. Ahem.) to how important waist size is to our health.

And then- they tell us to use heavy cream, and butter, and eggs, and all the things that the mean old diet books of yore have told us to avoid.

And you know what? It makes total sense.

And you know what else? I've followed the guidelines for two weeks and I have lost five pounds. Eating cream cheese, and Gouda, and cream, and cheese, and red meat, and cream cheese. Did I say cream cheese? I'm absolutely serious.

So, you should click on over to BlogHer and check out more reviews on the book, and then maybe you ought to run out and get the book. I've never been happier losing weight.

Ask Coach. He's a believer. A stunned believer, but a believer all the same.

See Y'all!

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own.

One

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.

He grew up in another obscure village, where He worked in a carpenter's shop until He was thirty. Then, for three years He was an itinerant preacher.

He never had a family or owned a home.

He never set foot inside a big city.

He never traveled more than two hundred miles from the place He was born.

He never wrote a book or held an office. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness.

While he was still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against Him. His friends deserted Him. He was turned over to His enemies, and went through the mockery of a trial.

He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While He was dying, His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had-- His coat.

When He was dead, He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave.

Two thousand years have come and gone, and today He is the central figure for much of the human race.

All the armies that have ever marched and all the navies that have ever sailed and all parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that have ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as this

One. Solitary. Life.

Merry Christmas!

**Reprinted from a Christmas program. Author unknown, but it's not me.

See Y'all!
 

Sunday Supper: Revival Edition

I just broke a fingernail into the quick and tripped over the computer cord which would normally render me useless for the rest of the evening, but I've decided to persevere.

I am one day of grading exams away from total liberation and full-on holiday jubilation!

So, tomorrow I'll layer on the polar fleece, sit myself next to the Christmas tree with a box full of exams and threaten to shoot anyone who talks to me with the Red Rider BB Gun.

Oh yes, we absolutely have one, and don't think I won't use it. Just ask the dang rabbits that ate my tomatoes this summer. And the moles. And the owls. And the foxes. And the coyotes. And the possum. And the annoying little black dog that runs through here every morning.

I have lovingly named the summer of 2011 The Summer of the Wild.

Aaaaaah summer. When my yard looked like this...

And we ate things that were growing on a vine mere minutes before they were in our mouths. I'm already dreaming of Summer 2012; I'm also planning a garden expansion; Coach will be thrilled.

Speaking of summer, late in the summer Coach and I went to see his college roommate, B. Mac, at the Tomato Fest in Nashville.  He was cooking Jambalaya, and his parents were here from New Orleans.  The first time I met his momma I fell in love with her, and honestly, that is why I wanted to go; I'm not big on trying new foods. So we went.

Coach offered me a bite of the jambalaya.  I didn't want to be rude, so I partook.

Y'all.  Y'ALL.  It changed my life.

I told him we needed to do a video cooking segment for the blog, but he has three kids, a wife, a job, a dog, and an impressive addiction to LSU athletics.  So, obviously he's having a big year, and I've been swamped with Momsense here which has prevented any Creole cinematography.

So, instead, we went to their house the very next day, kept all three kids from napping and forced B. Mac to write the recipe down while he tried to eat his lunch.  I'm not even kidding.

Now, I need to tell you a few things.  Apparently B. Mac and his momma make two different types of Jambalaya.  B. Mac makes the hoity-toity Creole kind with tomatoes and butter, which from what I understand, is very controversial to the Cajuns, who make a more countrified type of cuisine. 

And Cajun is how Mrs. Bonnie makes her Jambalaya. (I have her recipe too.  I need to ask her if it's okay to make it public- if it is, I'll post it.)  Rumor has it that sausage is also a controversial ingredient- and some use seafood.

I don't care if they put dirt in it, this stuff is a game changer.  Anyway, I made a slight tweak in B. Mac's recipe, and I feel like I need to confess that now in case his head blows off when he reads this.  (I'm not a Louisiana native and certainly not well-schooled in NOLA cuisine.)  His recipe calls for 1 pound of "ham seasoning" cut up, but I used bacon. 

You can never go wrong with bacon.  I don't think. 

My personal belief is that any dish that combines two different types of smoked pork product is blessed by the Lord Himself, but just in case I broke some Cajun cooking law, I wanted to take responsibility so that B. Mac's street cred isn't questioned because of my naivete.

Another disclaimer-  This recipe will make enough Jambalaya to feed the LSU football team.  Seriously, our family of five eats it for dinner and we put away two LARGE Rubbermaid containers full.  You could easily cut it in two and still feed 6-8 people easily.  I make the full batch because we have a 15-year-old and Coach. 

B Mac's Jambalaya
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs cut into 1" pieces
2 pounds andouille sausage, sliced into 1/2" pieces
1 pound bacon diced (this is a deviation from B Mac. He says use "ham seasoning")
1 large onion, diced
6 ribs celery, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
4 tablespoons butter
28 ounce can crushed tomatoes
6 cups chicken stock
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more to taste)
1 teaspoon cumin
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon pepper
2-3 bay leaves
4 cups white rice

In a LARGE stockpot (at least 7 quarts), cook bacon until done. Remove bacon, but leave drippings. Add sausage and brown in batches. Don't crowd the sausage. (I don't know why it matters, but B. Mac and Julia Child agree on this one, so it must be important.) Remove and brown all sausage. Repeat process with chicken.

When all meat is browned and set aside, add the butter to the drippings. Then add the onion, pepper, and celery and cook until translucent. Add the garlic and cook another couple of minutes.

Add the tomatoes, cayenne pepper, cumin, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil. TASTE. Add more seasoning as you see fit. I always see fit with the cayenne.

Add the bay leaves and chicken stock and return to a boil. Pour in UNCOOKED rice and return to boil.

Then add meat back in, stir thoroughly, and lower heat to a simmer. Let simmer 20-25 minutes until liquid is absorbed. Remove the bay leaves.

Now, go make yourself some and eat until your sick! 

See Y'all!