I'm on my waaaaay ....

That there is a nod not to Vince Neil, but to Hot Tub Time Machine. Which I didn't even like all that much. But I can tell you that if I was going to off myself, I'd totally do it while listening to Motley Crue.

Soooooo....... I've got a new bloggy lay out here. Normally I'd go to my handy friend over at Mommy From the Midwest, but she seems to be on hiatus. Left to my own devices, I've gone with whatever template looked least likely and clicked OK.

This leads me to The Next Big Thing. A book. *gasp* So if I had the nerve to self publish (because my ADD doesn't allow me to focus long enough to go the traditional route, and I really really like instant gratification) would you people buy it? I'm seriously considering doing it on only electronic format, because there Are. No. Bookstores.

Potato Tacos

Although they may sound Irish-Mexican (I dated an Irish-Mexican once, dude was not right in the head) potato tacos seem to be a purely American creation. By American, I mean that my Mexican mother in law made them here in Chicago.

For years, I could not figure out what was so magical about those little tacos. And allow me to digress for a moment, so you can laugh at my lack of Spanish speaking skills. Every time we visited my mother in law's house, she would ask, "Quieres un taco?" and me, being me, didn't really dig tacos enough to eat them quite that often. It was a long time before my husband notified me that "un taco" doesn't necessarily mean A TACO, literally. It's a snack, and bite to eat. He asked, "What, did you think my mother had a store house of tacos somewhere?" Hey, I don't presume to know what your mother does with her food! Maybe she reeeeally likes tacos! *Okay, back to the story of the amazing potato tacos.* Then, on the eve of my darling (and I mean that with zero sarcasm) mother in law's return to Mexico, she showed me how to make them, along with her patented rice.

Last night I made potato tacos and Maria's rice for dinner. Both Daimean and Jesus were in carb loaded heaven. Daimean doesn't really remember much about his abuela, but he sure remembers her food. And for Jesus, who misses his mom, it's a little thing that makes him really happy. Poor Isaiah looked at the whole thing and asked if he could have spaghetti instead.

A Word On Luck

Jeeez, neglect the blog for a few days and all hell breaks loose. We adopted a kitten.

His name is Ozzie, and in, Prince of Darkness. The title for his blog was supposed to be, "Send me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breed fleas." You know how I love those insanely long blog titles. Ozzie is about 4 weeks old now, and is still bottle fed, and is firmly entrenched in this family.

Now, on to today's blog topic.

My mother is sad that today would have been her and my father's 35th wedding anniversary. Never mind that he's been gone 16 years, and they were divorced for 10 before that. Anyway ...

She asked if I'm sad about it, or if I dread the date coming on the calendar. I said no, that I'm always cognizant of the date, but I don't dread it. Tomorrow, Jesus will listen as I talk about my dad, and tell him some of the same things I've probably told him a hundred times before. When I'm done, I'll tell him I miss my dad, he'll say he knows, and he'll hug me. And that will be exactly what I need.

My mother said, "You're lucky to have Jesus"

I smile and say, "I know" :)

Mil-i-wauk-ee

Well, that's how Alice Cooper said it, anyway.

Here's the view from my room:


I'm here for a trade show, try not to be jealous. Next year it will be in Miami, maybe I'll have better pictures then. It's actually kind of cute here, like Springfield, IL.

For parents, a business trip with your own hotel room is kind of like a mini vacation, isn't it? The opportunity to go to sleep without first tucking in other people. Now, don't get me wrong. Tucking your children in for bed is a beautiful thing. But sometimes, the chance to sleep without keeping an ear half open is also a beautiful thing!

The Kitchen!

A while back I posted about the agony of our kitchen remodel, and just realized that I never followed up with the finished product! Well, allow me to present ... The New Kitchen!



Note the wine rack, a gift from Jesus. He keeps it stocked for me, too.

Maybe that's not a fact I should advertise.

But I bet my fellow "OMG I so need a glass of wine or I'm going to sell my kids" members will appreciate it :)

I See Where This is Going

Also filed under: Parent of the Year

When I got home from work, I saw these on the kitchen table.


Somehow I just knew they were Isaiah's. So I asked my darling husband where those came from, and sure enough, Isaiah saw them at the store and asked for them. Of course, right now he thinks they're test tubes, and he enjoyed pouring Gatorade and Kool Aid in them.

But I see where this is going. His college years will not be good to me, will they?

Children, or, Why I Have Grey Hair

We have VoIP, because we're cool and we hate AT&T. (Hipster disclaimer, I hated AT&T back when it was SBC)

The bill is a fixed amount each month, until last month, when it was almost double. What the...? I look up the usage and find a few looong phone calls to some number in Portland. *I* don't know anyone in Portland. *Hubs* doesn't know anyone in Portland.

Oh, and the calls were made around 1am each time.

A quick look at Daimean's FB friends reveals a young woman in Portland. Whom he'd been calling at 1am to chat up. Oddly, my first response wasn't, "Why are you calling some girl in Portland at 1am?!" but rather, "Why the heck didn't you use your cell phone?! You have tons of minutes there!"