I suffer from "Whereus Did I Putus That Disease". That's Latin for, "Oh man! I can't find my keys!". Don't bother looking it up in any medical dictionary. Just trust me when I tell you that it is real, and I have a full-blown case! How do I know? Let me explain....
Saturday was grocery shopping day. As is my routine, I grabbed a cart and put my wallet and keys in the "baby seat". After my son and I grabbed what we needed, we headed for the check-out stand. The lovely lady bagging our groceries had an empty cart ready to go, so she loaded our groceries in that as she bagged them. I paid, we all wished each other a good day, and my son and I headed out to the car. That's when I realized my keys were still in the baby seat of our original cart. No worries, right? Just go back in and get them. Uh yeah...it was Saturday. In the few short minutes that we had put the cart away, about 1,348 people had come into the store and taken a cart. Did I mention that I also suffer from "Exaggerateous Oftenus Syndrome"? Anyway, short story made far too long....I got to meet a whole bunch of new people as I violated their privacy by rummaging through their carts. Good news - I found the keys! Bad news - my picture now hangs at the front of the store. I let you work out why.....
This got me thinking of all of the other items I have misplaced over the years. While there are far too many items for me to bother the world at large with, I thought I'd use this blog as a sort-of "MISSING" poster for some of the bigger items. Please let me know if you find any of the following:
LOST: Tears for Fears tickets in 1987. Last seen: In a super safe place so I wouldn't lose them. I'm still looking.....
LOST: Retainer. Last seen: On my tray at a McDonalds in Kansas in 1986. If found....ummmmm...go ahead and keep it.
LOST: Hubcaps to a Hyundai Excel. Last seen: Flying across State Street when I hit a really big pothole going a teensy, weensy bit too fast.
LOST: My wallet. Last seen: In my daughters hands as I asked her to carry it while I carried the shelving unit I wanted to buy in 2004. When we got to the register, I asked my darling then 3-year-old to hand it to me. Looking fairly bored, she told me that it was too heavy (NOT from an excess of money!!) so she put it in someone's cart. If you are that someone, I just want my Subway points card back.....
Hold on to your shorts, and have a great day!
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
I am so very, very sorry! I THOUGHT I was ready to start school, but I found myself buried in "stuff" every night last week. Ah - the joys of working for a district that likes to "shake things up" every year! Anyway, I have shoveled my way out and have decided to celebrate by writing on my blog. Yippee!!!
So I eluded to a "nose cast" incident in my last post, and I have decided it is time to come clean. The reason I was sporting a nose cast in high school was because I had....drum roll please...a nose job (also known by the ever glamorous name...rhinoplasty - and no, I am NOT making that up!). Here's what happened....
I was born almost the spitting image of my Grandpa Stewart. Never has a more stellar, kind, funny, and loving man walked the face of the earth. However, he walked that earth with a rather bulbous schnoz that I was lucky enough (?) to inherit. Did it make it hard to stand up as my center of gravity was always being thrown off? Sure, but that was okay. Did I have to turn my head to look at things because it obstructed my view? Yes, but that was okay too. I didn't even mind that it was prone to bleeding. Especially when they tried to "fix" that problem, and I scored the Bionic Woman Barbie doll as a reward for only biting the doctor a little. But then, it turned on me....
When I was 7, I had my tonsils removed. That is not all that unusual unless you consider that my tonsils were fine, but my adenoids were invading my whole head. The tonsils ended up being a bonus prize in a super fun surgery over Christmas break that year. I'll have to save that story for another day, but it involves Chinese water torture, clowns, and Charlie's Angels! Fast forward a few years to the lovely day when we discovered that I had a deviated septum. I don't really know what a septum is or what horrible turn of events caused it to deviate, but it had to punished - and it took me down with it! Fast forward a few more years to my senior year of high school, when that punk septum deviated again. Maybe that will be the title of my book - "When Good Septum's Go Bad". Hmmmm...has more of a Dr. Phil vibe...but I digress (or deviate, if you will). The ENT, in his infinite wisdom, suggested that we consult an ENT with a special in facial plastics. I believe it was because my face had been invaded previously and was starting to slide off to one side (!!!), but I secretly think he had just never encountered a nose of such epic proportions. Here's all I know - I was 17, college was on the horizon, and it sounded to me like a perfectly logical excuse to have a nose job for reasons other than vanity. BRING IT ON, BABY!
So there I was...about to get a new nose for Christmas. The doctor explained all the "in's and out's" (no pun intended) of the surgery, but I don't think I was really listening. I was too busy imaging the return to school after Christmas break and my peers mistaking me for Cindy Crawford. My first "surprise" was that I remember falling asleep before the surgery but waking up before it was done. I kept thinking that some obnoxious person was rambling on and on and desperately wishing that she would be quiet so I could tell the doctor I was awake. It wasn't until I heard her say, "And if my mom finds out that I am pregnant, she will KILL me" that I realized it was me talking. Uh...for the record, I had NO reason to believe that I was pregnant. That Valium is just some kind of crazy! The next surprise was when the doctor said, "Amy, your deviated septum was more complicated than expected so we haven't broken your nose yet. Can you feel me touching your nose?". Yes, Regis - Final answer!!! Except what I said was, "Nawwwwlllllbbbbblah". Taking that as a no, he proceeded to break my nose. I am at a loss as to how to describe what I then felt, but I assure you that "ouch" is NOT the right word. My next surprise came when the surgery was over and they took the gauze off of my eyes. I raced, or stumbled - again...Valium - to a mirror and found myself wondering when exactly Cindy Crawford got that hideous! My face was swollen, my eyes were beginning to blacken, and there was a cast on my nose. Again, I am sure that "black eyes" and "nose cast" were mentioned in the original appointment, but I'd been in my happy place then and hadn't heard that. When he gave me the super good news that the cast had to stay on for 6 weeks, I can't tell you how happy I was - mostly because I really, really, really wasn't!
So there I was, the morning of the first day back from Christmas break of my senior year. I had given my "strategy" for explaining the nose cast a lot of thought and come up with exactly nothing. Instead, I decided to just conceal it - with concealer. Today's tip for all of you lovely ladies - foundation on plaster turns a sickly orange. Write that down. Oh yeah - and you should also now that in order to help the tip of my nose "set", the doctor had run a string from the outside edge of my nose, through the nostrils, back out the other side, and attached it to the top of the cast. Can you imagine Daffy Duck doing a Porky Pig impression? If so...that was me. So much for Cindy Crawford....
Things were going unexpectedly well despite my hideousness until the fateful day that my yearbook adviser informed me that group pictures had been moved up to meet a deadline. Can you guess who had decided to join EVERY group she could her senior year? Yes ma'am - it was me! The good news...group photos were black and white (and NOT because color film hadn't been invented yet!!!), so you can't tell my nose cast is orange. The bad news...it looks like I have no nose at all. Again, those "glamor shots" I had imagined were just NOT working out. And thank goodness it was all immortalized in 2,000 copies of a yearbook! Phew!!! Then there was the fateful day when the cast decided to plop off my face during debate class. Do you remember that string I mentioned earlier? Yeah...ummm...the cast fell off my nose, but not my face. Luckily (???), my car keys were CLEAR across the high school in my locker, and my car was CLEAR back by my debate class. Was I able to slip into stealth mode and get to my keys and back without anyone noticing my wrinkly, nasty nose with an orange cast dangling below it from a string running through my nostrils? Uh...no..
By the time I had my final appointment with the doctor and he removed the two popsicle sticks (and I am NOT exaggerating that!) from the inside of my nose that had acted as splints, I had determined that all plastic surgery is of the devil - at least for me!. If you have met me, I don't suppose I had to clarify that that was my one and only attempt at plastic surgery. Bottom line: I love and miss you Grandpa. We'll share a box of tissues when I'm on the other side!
So I eluded to a "nose cast" incident in my last post, and I have decided it is time to come clean. The reason I was sporting a nose cast in high school was because I had....drum roll please...a nose job (also known by the ever glamorous name...rhinoplasty - and no, I am NOT making that up!). Here's what happened....
I was born almost the spitting image of my Grandpa Stewart. Never has a more stellar, kind, funny, and loving man walked the face of the earth. However, he walked that earth with a rather bulbous schnoz that I was lucky enough (?) to inherit. Did it make it hard to stand up as my center of gravity was always being thrown off? Sure, but that was okay. Did I have to turn my head to look at things because it obstructed my view? Yes, but that was okay too. I didn't even mind that it was prone to bleeding. Especially when they tried to "fix" that problem, and I scored the Bionic Woman Barbie doll as a reward for only biting the doctor a little. But then, it turned on me....
When I was 7, I had my tonsils removed. That is not all that unusual unless you consider that my tonsils were fine, but my adenoids were invading my whole head. The tonsils ended up being a bonus prize in a super fun surgery over Christmas break that year. I'll have to save that story for another day, but it involves Chinese water torture, clowns, and Charlie's Angels! Fast forward a few years to the lovely day when we discovered that I had a deviated septum. I don't really know what a septum is or what horrible turn of events caused it to deviate, but it had to punished - and it took me down with it! Fast forward a few more years to my senior year of high school, when that punk septum deviated again. Maybe that will be the title of my book - "When Good Septum's Go Bad". Hmmmm...has more of a Dr. Phil vibe...but I digress (or deviate, if you will). The ENT, in his infinite wisdom, suggested that we consult an ENT with a special in facial plastics. I believe it was because my face had been invaded previously and was starting to slide off to one side (!!!), but I secretly think he had just never encountered a nose of such epic proportions. Here's all I know - I was 17, college was on the horizon, and it sounded to me like a perfectly logical excuse to have a nose job for reasons other than vanity. BRING IT ON, BABY!
So there I was...about to get a new nose for Christmas. The doctor explained all the "in's and out's" (no pun intended) of the surgery, but I don't think I was really listening. I was too busy imaging the return to school after Christmas break and my peers mistaking me for Cindy Crawford. My first "surprise" was that I remember falling asleep before the surgery but waking up before it was done. I kept thinking that some obnoxious person was rambling on and on and desperately wishing that she would be quiet so I could tell the doctor I was awake. It wasn't until I heard her say, "And if my mom finds out that I am pregnant, she will KILL me" that I realized it was me talking. Uh...for the record, I had NO reason to believe that I was pregnant. That Valium is just some kind of crazy! The next surprise was when the doctor said, "Amy, your deviated septum was more complicated than expected so we haven't broken your nose yet. Can you feel me touching your nose?". Yes, Regis - Final answer!!! Except what I said was, "Nawwwwlllllbbbbblah". Taking that as a no, he proceeded to break my nose. I am at a loss as to how to describe what I then felt, but I assure you that "ouch" is NOT the right word. My next surprise came when the surgery was over and they took the gauze off of my eyes. I raced, or stumbled - again...Valium - to a mirror and found myself wondering when exactly Cindy Crawford got that hideous! My face was swollen, my eyes were beginning to blacken, and there was a cast on my nose. Again, I am sure that "black eyes" and "nose cast" were mentioned in the original appointment, but I'd been in my happy place then and hadn't heard that. When he gave me the super good news that the cast had to stay on for 6 weeks, I can't tell you how happy I was - mostly because I really, really, really wasn't!
So there I was, the morning of the first day back from Christmas break of my senior year. I had given my "strategy" for explaining the nose cast a lot of thought and come up with exactly nothing. Instead, I decided to just conceal it - with concealer. Today's tip for all of you lovely ladies - foundation on plaster turns a sickly orange. Write that down. Oh yeah - and you should also now that in order to help the tip of my nose "set", the doctor had run a string from the outside edge of my nose, through the nostrils, back out the other side, and attached it to the top of the cast. Can you imagine Daffy Duck doing a Porky Pig impression? If so...that was me. So much for Cindy Crawford....
Things were going unexpectedly well despite my hideousness until the fateful day that my yearbook adviser informed me that group pictures had been moved up to meet a deadline. Can you guess who had decided to join EVERY group she could her senior year? Yes ma'am - it was me! The good news...group photos were black and white (and NOT because color film hadn't been invented yet!!!), so you can't tell my nose cast is orange. The bad news...it looks like I have no nose at all. Again, those "glamor shots" I had imagined were just NOT working out. And thank goodness it was all immortalized in 2,000 copies of a yearbook! Phew!!! Then there was the fateful day when the cast decided to plop off my face during debate class. Do you remember that string I mentioned earlier? Yeah...ummm...the cast fell off my nose, but not my face. Luckily (???), my car keys were CLEAR across the high school in my locker, and my car was CLEAR back by my debate class. Was I able to slip into stealth mode and get to my keys and back without anyone noticing my wrinkly, nasty nose with an orange cast dangling below it from a string running through my nostrils? Uh...no..
By the time I had my final appointment with the doctor and he removed the two popsicle sticks (and I am NOT exaggerating that!) from the inside of my nose that had acted as splints, I had determined that all plastic surgery is of the devil - at least for me!. If you have met me, I don't suppose I had to clarify that that was my one and only attempt at plastic surgery. Bottom line: I love and miss you Grandpa. We'll share a box of tissues when I'm on the other side!
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Ok - I know it's enough already about school. However, I found myself thinking today about the incredibly idiotic things I did as a student. So...this particular blog is a gift to all students returning to school. Consider it a list of "non-examples". Just DON'T do anything listed below, and you will have a successful school year!
1. DO NOT hide your thermos of milk under your bed so your mom doesn't know that you didn't drink it at lunch. If you do hide it under your bed, DON'T forget it's there! To this day, cottage cheese inspires unpleasant visual memories! Sorry Mary (the sister who shared a room with me)...
2. DO NOT keep a comb and/or pick in your back pocket. I realize this was a bigger problem in 1982 than in 2012, but I don't care who you are - that's just good advice right there! Sorry Jordache jeans....
3. DO NOT attempt to recreate the Trojan War using produce. English teachers don't appreciate projects that attract fruit flies. *True story - The Greeks were potatoes, the Trojans were celery, and Helen of Troy was a cantaloupe. Oh yeah - and Odysseus's son was a tator tot. Get it? Dad is a potato...he's a tator tot? Bwahahahahah!!!! Kudos to my project partner, Melinda, for coming up with that! Sorry English teacher lady....
4. DO NOT leave your Bionic Woman lunchbox in the lunch crate if you EVER want to see it again! Sorry is what they'll be if I ever, ever find the little thief....
5. DO NOT attempt to play the recorder with your nose (this tip is mostly for the fourth graders out there). Sorry Mrs. Anderson....
6. DO NOT attempt to fool your high school teacher into believing that the "solar oven" you made by covering an umbrella in tin-foil REALLY baked the cookies you handed him - especially if he knows your friends have Home Ec. that same period and the window to said Home Ec. room is on the ground floor. Sorry Mr. Gadd....
7. DO NOT really bring a pillow and slippers to business class and settle in for a nap just because your teacher suggested you should do so if you truly found her class made you want to fall asleep. Sorry Mrs. Lady-Whose-Name-I-Can't-Remember...
8. DO NOT really bring a picnic basket and blanket and set the picnic up on the floor of your math class just because your teacher suggested you should do so if you truly felt you needed to bring a snack to class. Sorry Mr. Chong Wong....
9. DO NOT put foundation on a nose cast thinking it will help it blend in with your face only to discover it turns a sickly orange color (Ummm...that's a story for another day....) Sorry student body of Taylorsville High....
And finally....
10. DO NOT believe your older sister when she tells you that the latest trend at the junior high is to wear your REALLY long night shirt tucked into your jeans. Sorry to the creators of Garfield (Odie was the featured character on said night shirt).... Sorry to the world for being the reason the term "bubble butt" was created (have you ever tried to get a night shirt tucked in without creating a donut effect around the mid-section. Good luck!)... Sorry to my sister for leaving the thermos of milk under your bed as retaliation...
Best of luck to all of the students out there. I hope this has helped!
1. DO NOT hide your thermos of milk under your bed so your mom doesn't know that you didn't drink it at lunch. If you do hide it under your bed, DON'T forget it's there! To this day, cottage cheese inspires unpleasant visual memories! Sorry Mary (the sister who shared a room with me)...
2. DO NOT keep a comb and/or pick in your back pocket. I realize this was a bigger problem in 1982 than in 2012, but I don't care who you are - that's just good advice right there! Sorry Jordache jeans....
3. DO NOT attempt to recreate the Trojan War using produce. English teachers don't appreciate projects that attract fruit flies. *True story - The Greeks were potatoes, the Trojans were celery, and Helen of Troy was a cantaloupe. Oh yeah - and Odysseus's son was a tator tot. Get it? Dad is a potato...he's a tator tot? Bwahahahahah!!!! Kudos to my project partner, Melinda, for coming up with that! Sorry English teacher lady....
4. DO NOT leave your Bionic Woman lunchbox in the lunch crate if you EVER want to see it again! Sorry is what they'll be if I ever, ever find the little thief....
5. DO NOT attempt to play the recorder with your nose (this tip is mostly for the fourth graders out there). Sorry Mrs. Anderson....
6. DO NOT attempt to fool your high school teacher into believing that the "solar oven" you made by covering an umbrella in tin-foil REALLY baked the cookies you handed him - especially if he knows your friends have Home Ec. that same period and the window to said Home Ec. room is on the ground floor. Sorry Mr. Gadd....
7. DO NOT really bring a pillow and slippers to business class and settle in for a nap just because your teacher suggested you should do so if you truly found her class made you want to fall asleep. Sorry Mrs. Lady-Whose-Name-I-Can't-Remember...
8. DO NOT really bring a picnic basket and blanket and set the picnic up on the floor of your math class just because your teacher suggested you should do so if you truly felt you needed to bring a snack to class. Sorry Mr. Chong Wong....
9. DO NOT put foundation on a nose cast thinking it will help it blend in with your face only to discover it turns a sickly orange color (Ummm...that's a story for another day....) Sorry student body of Taylorsville High....
And finally....
10. DO NOT believe your older sister when she tells you that the latest trend at the junior high is to wear your REALLY long night shirt tucked into your jeans. Sorry to the creators of Garfield (Odie was the featured character on said night shirt).... Sorry to the world for being the reason the term "bubble butt" was created (have you ever tried to get a night shirt tucked in without creating a donut effect around the mid-section. Good luck!)... Sorry to my sister for leaving the thermos of milk under your bed as retaliation...
Best of luck to all of the students out there. I hope this has helped!
Sunday, August 19, 2012
After a 3 month break, it is officially time to get to work! In the spirit of returning to teach 6th grade for another year, I think I’ll share a school story with you.
In order to understand this story, you need a teeny, tiny bit of background. My original major was in Music Education. I was going to be Mr. Holland…only younger…and a girl…. However, I happened to be expecting my first child while I did my student teaching. For the first 6 months of his life, he would burst into tears at the sound of any sort of string instrument, so I moved on to greener - or quieter - pastures and ended up not being able to renew my teaching certificate.
About 12 years later, the principal at my boy’s elementary school hired me to implement a computer program called “YPP”. Yes - YPP. Try saying that repeatedly to elementary students WITHOUT making them respond with things like, “Because I had too many juice boxes at lunch”, etc. Oh yeah - you should also know he was willing to hire me for YPP because I had a Bachelor’s in Music Education. For those of you playing at home, that would be a B.M. Seriously! I am not making that up! Mine was a rare degree that didn’t fall under the umbrella of B.A. - NOT pleased when I found that out! Fearing I was stuck in a disturbing trend professionally (???), I started thinking about renewing my certificate and getting back into the classroom. When my principal got wind (no pun intended) of my intentions, he suggested I apply to be a substitute teacher in my school district to get my feet wet. So I did….
My first substitute job was for a first grade teacher who was under the weather. I walked into her “relo” feeling completely confident in my abilities to keep 25 or so adorable little first graders under control. After all, the sun was shining, the kids knew me from YPP and seemed to like me, and I had age and experience on my side. How hard could it really be? Ummmm….let’s just say….I LOST….by a wide, wide, WIDE margin!!!
Surprisingly, however, she called me again Thursday to ask me back for Friday as she was still not feeling well. In retrospect, somebody probably ought to look into having the wisdom of that decision listed on the back of the Nyquil bottles under “WARNING”. Nevertheless, I was up to bat again. I spent the better part of a sleepless night trying to figure out how to “win” against a group of people smaller than me, 1/6 my age, and, in theory, less intelligent and mature than myself. The next day, I walked into that classroom and got right to it. To my surprise, all of my “plans” were working like a charm. According to the schedule, a volunteer was coming in first thing in the morning to teach a mini-lesson, and I had all of the little darlings quietly looking at books just moments before the volunteer’s arrival. I was 110% sure that this volunteer was going to walk in and be so completely amazed by my substituting skills that some sort of trophy would be coming my way. So there they were, reading like angels when the volunteer arrived. Just as I was about to bask in the warmth of my success, one of the little boys that had been particularly “special” on Tuesday jumped up, did a triple somersault, stuck an amazing landing, and yelled “tada”! Horrified, I asked the volunteer to go ahead and begin their lesson while I had a quick visit with my young friend out on the ramp leading up to the door. Knowing that the volunteer was standing right next to the window that looked out on the ramp, I knelt down by my little friend, plastered on the sweetest face I could muster, and gave this little boy a piece…or chunk…of my mind - complete with intense finger wagging! When I felt I had sufficiently expressed my feelings, the young man and I headed back into the room. We were about two feet in the door, when the boy decided he owed the volunteer an apology as well. I would have been thrilled by this turn of events had the apology not consisted of these two words: “Sorry dad!” Uh yeah…I was pretty sure my name was still going to be turned in…just maybe NOT to the award’s committee. Bummer….
Despite a rocky start, I am super happy to be headed into a new year with an amazing new group of kids! To all of my teacher friends out there, best wishes for a fantastical new school year!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Notes to self: 1. Do not blog when tired. 2. Do not mention music in the same blog where you plan on using the word "voila" because you may inadvertently type "viola". 3. Pray that former French and /or Orchestra teachers never discover you started a blog. GOOD GRIEF! Sorry for the typos in tonight's earlier post.
Hi. My name is Amy, and I am addicted to talking. I talk so much that the majority of the private music lessons which I teach double as "therapy sessions / talk shows". I talk so much that my husband has literally not gotten a word in edge-wise since 1998. I talk so much that I have, on SEVERAL occasions, left messages on people's voice mail in a SERIES of phone calls. And yet....I have been completely stumped on what to talk about to launch this blog! Go figure!!!
I finally settled on tackling the topic of cooking. This is a topic that I, unfortunately, don't know a whole lot about. I have mastered the basic cooking skills necessary to not die (and yes, I do include the ability to order food from a drive-through in a competent manner a "skill"!), but I am not a tremendously gifted cook. What are my clues? Well - 1. I made my first pie this last Christmas....with my 14-year-old son as my tutor (Home Ec. teachers are LITERALLY saving lives!). 2. I have had occasion to pick glass out of the ham I was preparing. 3. I learned the hard way that setting the oven to "broil" so you can eat your cake sooner is a bad idea. 4. I am almost up to double-digits on the number of hot pads that I have caught on fire. And my personal favorite..."gravy-sicles". Here's what happened:
I married a fantastic man who also happens to have serious cooking skills. Unfortunately, after a few years of being married to me he mysteriously took a job that requires him to travel a lot (curious....). He happened to be out of town one Sunday, which is the day we usually do a nice enough meal to warrant washable plates and, if we are feeling really "fancy", silverware! I decided that I would make a roast. I mean how hard is it really? You just slap some salt on it and throw it in the oven. He had even shown me how to use this nifty meat thermometer so I wouldn't have to use smoke signals to gauge whether or not the roast was done. Great news - it worked! When I pulled that perfectly cooked roast out of the oven, I got...well...cocky and decided to try my hand at gravy. I called my mother, a fantastic cook who really did TRY to teach me, to get the recipe for gravy. When she finished crying (?), she lovingly explained that gravy really didn't require a recipe as it was just milk and flour added to the meat drippings. There is a SLIGHT chance that I may have mixed up the ratio of milk to flour because the gravy was...ummm..."thick". By thick I mean that when I pulled the spoon out of the pan, the gravy just kind-of stuck in one big clump to the spoon. Abandoning the gravy, I went ahead and called my boys to the table to eat the magnificent roast. My oldest, about 8 at the time, was mysteriously absent, so I went on a hunt. I finally found him in my room. He was crouched down on the floor next to my bed holding the phone. I got there just in time to hear him whisper desperately, "Dad - you have to come home now! She's making gravy-sicles!!!!!!" Tragic.....
You should know that I am a not a total loss in the kitchen. I have been told that I can make a mean chocolate chip cookie. That's the good kind of "mean" - not the kind that requires an ER visit. On occasion, people have asked me for the recipe. To be honest, I am pretty sure the way my mom taught me to make them is all but identical to the one on the back of the Nestle bag of chocolate chips, but I'll share it anyway:
Mix 3/4 cups Crisco and 2 eggs.
Add 1 cup of white sugar and 1/2 cup dark brown sugar (pack that baby until it overflows!) and mix.
Add 1 cup flour.
When that looks hunky dory, add a dash of salt, 2 tsps. vanilla, and 1 tsp. baking soda. Mix.
Add in 1 more cup of flour.
The best part.....add 1 bag of Nestle Semi-Sweet chocolate chips.
Cook a 350 degrees (I can't figure out how to make the degree mark on the computer!!) for 10-12 minutes.
Viola! I hope you enjoy!!!
Amy
I finally settled on tackling the topic of cooking. This is a topic that I, unfortunately, don't know a whole lot about. I have mastered the basic cooking skills necessary to not die (and yes, I do include the ability to order food from a drive-through in a competent manner a "skill"!), but I am not a tremendously gifted cook. What are my clues? Well - 1. I made my first pie this last Christmas....with my 14-year-old son as my tutor (Home Ec. teachers are LITERALLY saving lives!). 2. I have had occasion to pick glass out of the ham I was preparing. 3. I learned the hard way that setting the oven to "broil" so you can eat your cake sooner is a bad idea. 4. I am almost up to double-digits on the number of hot pads that I have caught on fire. And my personal favorite..."gravy-sicles". Here's what happened:
I married a fantastic man who also happens to have serious cooking skills. Unfortunately, after a few years of being married to me he mysteriously took a job that requires him to travel a lot (curious....). He happened to be out of town one Sunday, which is the day we usually do a nice enough meal to warrant washable plates and, if we are feeling really "fancy", silverware! I decided that I would make a roast. I mean how hard is it really? You just slap some salt on it and throw it in the oven. He had even shown me how to use this nifty meat thermometer so I wouldn't have to use smoke signals to gauge whether or not the roast was done. Great news - it worked! When I pulled that perfectly cooked roast out of the oven, I got...well...cocky and decided to try my hand at gravy. I called my mother, a fantastic cook who really did TRY to teach me, to get the recipe for gravy. When she finished crying (?), she lovingly explained that gravy really didn't require a recipe as it was just milk and flour added to the meat drippings. There is a SLIGHT chance that I may have mixed up the ratio of milk to flour because the gravy was...ummm..."thick". By thick I mean that when I pulled the spoon out of the pan, the gravy just kind-of stuck in one big clump to the spoon. Abandoning the gravy, I went ahead and called my boys to the table to eat the magnificent roast. My oldest, about 8 at the time, was mysteriously absent, so I went on a hunt. I finally found him in my room. He was crouched down on the floor next to my bed holding the phone. I got there just in time to hear him whisper desperately, "Dad - you have to come home now! She's making gravy-sicles!!!!!!" Tragic.....
You should know that I am a not a total loss in the kitchen. I have been told that I can make a mean chocolate chip cookie. That's the good kind of "mean" - not the kind that requires an ER visit. On occasion, people have asked me for the recipe. To be honest, I am pretty sure the way my mom taught me to make them is all but identical to the one on the back of the Nestle bag of chocolate chips, but I'll share it anyway:
Mix 3/4 cups Crisco and 2 eggs.
Add 1 cup of white sugar and 1/2 cup dark brown sugar (pack that baby until it overflows!) and mix.
Add 1 cup flour.
When that looks hunky dory, add a dash of salt, 2 tsps. vanilla, and 1 tsp. baking soda. Mix.
Add in 1 more cup of flour.
The best part.....add 1 bag of Nestle Semi-Sweet chocolate chips.
Cook a 350 degrees (I can't figure out how to make the degree mark on the computer!!) for 10-12 minutes.
Viola! I hope you enjoy!!!
Amy
Friday, July 27, 2012
Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out....That's what the little voice in my head is saying over and over as I try to get up the nerve to start this blog! On several occasions over the last few years, random friends or family members have urged me to start a blog, write a book, get a job with a newspaper, etc. Do I think I should follow their advice? Not so much. Am I caving in anyway? Yes. So here goes......
This blog is called "Winder's Wanderings" because I LOVE to tell stories and ramble on about my life. Are you hooked yet? Yeah...me neither. I would love to tell you that by reading this blog you will become a better cook, but I still have to read the directions on the Manwhich label (resulting in about a 75% success rate!). I would love to tell you that by reading this blog you'll will become physically fit, but just typing this much has already made me want to take a nap. I would love to tell you that by reading this blog you will reek with intelligence, but I can almost guarantee I'll use the word "booger" more than once. What I can TRY to promise you is that by reading this blog you may laugh....possibly snort...but certainly smile. So welcome to Winder's Wanderings (future posts to be delayed on account of dinner.....)
This blog is called "Winder's Wanderings" because I LOVE to tell stories and ramble on about my life. Are you hooked yet? Yeah...me neither. I would love to tell you that by reading this blog you will become a better cook, but I still have to read the directions on the Manwhich label (resulting in about a 75% success rate!). I would love to tell you that by reading this blog you'll will become physically fit, but just typing this much has already made me want to take a nap. I would love to tell you that by reading this blog you will reek with intelligence, but I can almost guarantee I'll use the word "booger" more than once. What I can TRY to promise you is that by reading this blog you may laugh....possibly snort...but certainly smile. So welcome to Winder's Wanderings (future posts to be delayed on account of dinner.....)
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