M'Nachos: Variations on a Theme

I keep inventing these amazing new food combinations.

But I refer to all of them as "Nachos".

You might think Nachos are just tortilla chips with a sticky, spicy cheese-like substance to dip said tortilla chips, but originally, nachos were tortilla chips with melted Cheddar and pickled jalapenos. Mmmm. I never buy pickled jalapenos because I had a traumatic experience once*, but I sure do love old school nachos.

And everything else I call "nachos".

Such as:

• I replace melted cheese with melted marshmallows and use my fingers or gram crackers instead of tortillas.
• I use peanut butter or chocolate frosting for the cheese and my fingers for the chips.
• I use spinach for the chips and blue cheese instead of cheddar.
• I use Wheat Thins for the chips and blue cheese instead of cheddar
• I use my fingers for the chips and blue cheese instead of cheddar.

(I've been on a blue cheese kick for a while. Any recommendations for a new yummy cheese I can buy?)

___________________
*Uncle Sam's Army Supply Surplus was located just a few block north of Pizza Pipeline, where I was the assistant manager. They ordered a jalapeno pizza. Who does that? But no big deal, really. Tho, it was December, and after washing my hands in a million times a day for months and months, plus the frigid, dry, Utah weather made reaching my hands into the giant, rarely-used jalapeno jar sting like the baton of a brutal piano teacher. I popped the pizza in the oven, in the box, and out the door.

They call back asking to speak with the manager.

That's me. Is there a problem?

Damn straight there is a problem. This pizza is covered in jalapeno juice. That stuff will burn your mouth and leave ulcerated sores.

You asked for a jalapeno pizza, tho, didn't you?

You send me another, and it better not be covered in juice like this one was, y'hear?

Ok sir. We'll send it right out.

I make another painful pizza, carefully shaking out the deadly juices before putting the jalapenos on the pizza. Cooked, boxed, delivered, fast.

They call again.

DAMMIT. I said no effing jalapeno juice, do you hear me?

I'm sorry sir, I shook them out ... are you sure you want a jalapeno pizza? Maybe some lovely green peppers ... ?

Look. I want you to make send this pizza over with NO effing jalapeno juice. Got it?

Um. Maybe we could just refund your money, sir?

Click.

OK. So, I reach my hand in yet again, I squeeze the suckers dry. Then I get a paper towel and I run them under water and squeeze them dry again. Then I make the effing pizza.

They don't call back that night. But they do order their juice-free jalapeno pizza regularly.

I wonder who to call besides them to get some weapons-grade Plutonium. To blow them up. (Great now the FBI is gonna follow my blog. Oh well, readers are readers!)

After about 10 years, I was able to forgive them in my heart.

But I don't wanna touch jalapenos.

So ... if the footnote is longer than the post ... what does that mean? I posted the wrong topic?

Thank You For Not Pooping In The Pool

My whole little family (mom, dad, boys, and baby girl) went to our local swimming pool. We've never done that. It was great! The slope into the water is very gradual, starting at just inches of water and taking like 20 or 30 feet to reach a depth of 3 or 4 feet, then there is the deep end. And they periodically turn on a wave generator. So essentially it is just like the beach, but covered in the winter, with no sand, and no trash or sharks floating around.

What could possibly go wrong?

We were there about 20 minutes, splashing and having a grand time. I look for Canon and see him frozen, looking panicked.

"What's the matter?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"Ok, go tell dad! Quick!" (Dad was closer to "shore")

Just then ... plop plop ...

Canon looks at me.

I look at him.

I walk over to Greg and tell him Canon pooped in the pool.

It's one of those moments you know you just have to suck it up and face the music.

I volunteer to tell the life guard. Greg stands by Canon on Doodie Duty. (Like that? I just made it up.)

"I have some bad news. There is poop in the pool." I say, wording it carefully so as not to implicate my own guilt.

"Oh no! Where is it?"

"Over by that guy," I point at my beloved.

She blows her whistle and makes a whirlpool shape in the air ... reminded me a bit of a toilet flushing ...

I'd like to say the lifeguards sprang into action, got the pool cleared and cleaned. But it was another 10 minutes before they whistled and demanded everyone out.

"GET OUT EVERYONE! YOU ARE SWIMMING WITH MY KID'S POOP!!!" I thought to myself. "STERILIZE IT. DISINFECT IT!"



So. They pretty much closed the pool for the night. Because my progeny pooped. In the pool. Sorry, y'all.

On a positive note, Greg sweet talked the front desk girl out of 5 free passes to use at a later date as he signed a form stating our kid pooped in the pool. See we get to relive this happy occasion FOR FREE. Maybe tonight ;)

Short And Sweet

FINE.

Grr. Not doing well with the daily blogging.

SHORT. Maybe that'll be the new trick.

I'm gonna pump out 7 new blog posts RIGHT NOW and they will be short AND funny, because I am in a very weird mood.

Here's the example to keep you coming back:

The Mean Teacher at my Montessori school is helping with the toddlers' class now; my beloved daughter's class. They ask me to stay in the 3-6 class except when I'm needed elsewhere (minimize my damage potential, maybe). Mean Teacher and I spent a lovely morning working together two days ago. I observed. It's what they (don't) pay me to do. I observed her trying to control two year olds as though her very voice has remote control-like powers. I observed her threaten to withhold snacks if a toddler didn't put her work away and join circle time (Snacks? I want snacks, waaaaahhhhh - so effective). I observed her getting irritated by my beloved daughter's complete lack of cooperation. I observed her take a snack (the same snacks we give the children) after group snack time and eat it in front of the 2 year olds, but refuse to give them a snack. I have observed her acknowledge that a child is sleepy and then continue expecting that child to behave her every order. And I have observed her complete lack of enthusiasm for anything. Seriously.

I understand that not everyone can emulate my enthusiasm for sharpening color pencils and tying shoes, BUT COME ON. SHE GETS PAID! And I am a parent. A PARENT VOLUNTEER.

Fake it, biatch.

As I tried to tell her of my concerns, she became defensive; clearly she thinks she's doing just fine. I took my concerns to the head teacher.

"Are parents complaining?"

"I am a parent."

"Yes, you are."

If you have a child in school or day care, especially a pre-verbal child, you should go with your kid as often as you can. Don't assume the teacher has a good reason for her methods. If you don't like how he/she is treating your kid or any other kid, complain. Get people in trouble. Demand high quality care/education for your kids.

Only you can be a jerk to your kids!

*****

How was that? If anyone from work ever finds my blog ... hmmm ... except they can't fire me, I'm a tuition-paying, parent-volunteer,

YAY! CONFESS!!

I wanted to blog but felt uninspired. Then I caught up on this blog and thought. I wish it were Friday, I'd write a confess post.

AND IT IS FRIDAY!!!

HAHA!

I hereby confess:

1. God did something funny/mean this week (not to me) and it made me chuckle, tho I ought not. Don't ever say, "I'll never confess."

2. I don't care about the family finances or taxes or mortgages not one little bit. I would be financially drowned if my husband died.

3. Except for that life insurance thing.

4. Then I'd get remarried right quick to someone willing to take over the money crap, give me my allowance, and make good use of my IUD.

5. I'm a mean person and I think bad thoughts about perfectly nice people regularly. BUT I don't mean it. I'm just a jerk.

6. I bore my testimony about why I go to church last Sunday.

7. The newly former RS pres. called to tell me I don't need to apologize for my kids' behavior in sacrament meeting.

8. The new RS pres. told me she likes my shoes and reads my blog.

9. Must fly under radar ...

10. I can't stop eating too many unhealthy carbs.

11. I've run at least a mile everyday since Monday before last. My goal is 100 miles in 100 days, at least 1 mile per day, everyday.

12. I worry. I worry.

Stuff I Like About My Montessori School

1. I get to hang out all morning with cuties like this:

And this:

2. When I see a shoelace untied, I take several minutes (!) slowly retying both laces.

3. I'm not a slave to the kids. Even the 2 year olds have to take care of their own messes (as much as two year olds can be made to do anything).

4. My main goal is to help the children achieve successes/avoid failures. Montessori activities are made to be self correcting. You give a lesson by slowly demonstrating how to do it "right," then the child does it. With a puzzle, I don't have to say, "Nope, that piece doesn't fit there," (tho I often forget and say it anyway). They just need encouragement to keep trying. If you don't build the tower the right way, it doesn't stay up.

5. I say, "Feet stay on the floor" and "Bottom on your chair" and "Walking feet" and "Say, 'Excuse me,'" and "We need to be kind to our friends" and "Quiet voices" and "Thank you, Mrs. Roth" and "Cheese balls or graham crackers?" and "We color on our paper" and "Do you need to go potty" and "Throw your tissue away" and "Let's wash hands" and "That's his work, you need to do your work". (Always try to tell them what TO do instead of what NOT to do and never waste time asking ,"Why did you do that?!"; you won't like the answer anyway.)

6. Simple, clean, organized. Children have a sense of order. They are very sensitive to routines and organization. If their environment is such that that sense of order is stimulated, they automatically (with a little reminder) keep it in order. Order is normal, efficient, and pleasant.

(*** I missed my staff meeting whist composing this post, dammit. Grrr. I'm becoming more and more reliant on my phone to tell me where I am supposed to be.)

Oh Yeah, And I Got That IUD Thing Done

***This post is not appropriate for anyone I see in real life. I would appreciate NOT knowing you read it; this will NEVER be discussed face to face.

You wanna know what it's like for ME to get an IUD shoved up my hoohah??

GAH!!

I'm serious.

Not only do you have to go in whilst ON your period, when your guts are as tender as your emotions, BUT it hurts WORSE THAN ANYTHING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED IN MY LIFE.

i clutched the sides of the table, splayed out in misery and humiliation, tears leaking from my eyes, alone, but for professional strangers. it felt like fiery daggers and ripping flesh in my sensitive girl parts. no one has ever hurt me there ... this was the worst, most traumatic experience of my life. i may have been a little grumpy for the rest of the day. also, failed to take drugs before hand. when i have it removed, i'm bringing heroine.

OK?!

Things that didn't hurt as bad as having my IUD placed:

• Giving birth to three children (one at a time, of course) (oh, and via C-section while completely numb) (hmm, that's not a terribly impressive example).
• Having the BIG, FAT shot in the back before they sliced my guts open for said C-sections.
• Severely spraining my ankle by stepping into an evil Arizonian abyss while holding my young child (the child totally survived, too).
• Running a 5K (cake, pain wise, by comparison).

• Bonking my head on that cupboard above the toilet when I turn on the shower (this happens rather regularly).
• Any pap shmear or ovary checking thing.
• Falling on my face while 8 months pregnant while wearing flip flops in the rain.
• P90X
• The 12 tries it took the vampires to get an IV in my arm last time I had a baby.
• Breast feeding with a clogged milk duct.
  

Things that hurt equally bad to having my IUD placed:

• Pregnant with 1st kid, 1 week past due date: my water broke at midnight and at 7am they started me on pitocin, which hurt SO bad, I vomited.

• My birth control pills give me weekly migraines that hurt so bad all I could do was huddle in a ball in a dark room and cry.

While it is true I try not to do things to hurt myself, I like to think I have a high tolerance for pain.

That effing hurt. For like 10 full minutes (there was a "blockage").

THEN!!!!

They coat you with this goop at some point in the procedure. It seemed to have the consistency of thick paper pulp. "You will probably pass it." What the ... why? They don't tell you. Why would they tell you? That would take all the fun out of violating and mutilating your womanity.

I'm not one of those girls who are afraid to see and touch their own bodies, ok ... and let me tell you ... the day after ... my girl parts looked like a battlefield. And tell me: what's the good of having an IUD if you can't put it to use?! I had to essentially muck the stall for a couple of days. (My husband ADORES it when I talk about things of this nature ... )

ANYWAY.

Six days later...

I'm fine. Thank you for asking. Things are working perfectly and all is well.

(SOOOO not looking forward to having it removed ... it was WAY easier to HAVE a baby than get an IUD placed.)

The End
(or is it?)
(Brandy, you're a dork!)

Don't Make Me Poke You With A Soft Cushion

Hey Brandy, what's up? You haven't updated your blog for a while. Did ya die, haha?

No, I did not die. I've been, um, busy.

Oh? Whatcha doing?

That Montessori teaching thing.

I thought that was just mornings.

Well, yeah. then there's lunch and naps and stuff. Housework.

(Very rude snort-laugh)

No, really whatcha been doing?

Well, I do read a lot of stuff about teaching and discipline. I practice guitar. I ... yeah.

Hmm.

Don't "Hmm" me.

Ok.

OK. Look, if I blog a little more often will you stop with the Spanish Inquisition?



Maybe. But you better blog more ... it'll be the COMFY CHAIR FOR YOU OLD WOMAN!!!

I'm Gonna Post on This Blog, So Help Me BOB.

I watched conference this weekend. It's when all the Mormon sit home and "watch" church on TV. The talks are amazing and inspirational. Here's what I remember:

DON'T wear flip flops to church!!!

Women: STOP whining so much and be better moms!

Porn is BAD.

I might not have been listening very closely.

Jesus wore sandals all the time. Except when he was barefoot. Isn't it more important to go to church than what kind of footwear you bring?

Sure, sure, I get that we should dress in our "Sunday Best" to show respect. But, dangit, girl shoes frikken hurt MOST of the time!!!!

I'm just saying .. .if I had a teenager, for example, who made a fuss about going to church and shoes was an issue ... I'd be happy with flip flops. Sorry. Shoes are not a big deal ... how about real commandments?

(lovely, now I'm gonna burn for criticizing an apostle ... sorry ...)

Friday Confession

I like confessing.

• I thought lobster was overrated, but last night's husband's-birthday-dinner at Outback knocked my socks off. The steak wasn't much to speak of, tho dredging it in the lobster's butter helped a little. Mmmm lobster ... who knew?
• I am really praise oriented. And my greatest fears revolve around disappointing loved ones.
• I hope husband likes the pot roast dinner I've been crocking all day. I hope he makes it home to share it with the family.
• I have faith in God's will, even when it's not mine ... I think everything happens as it ought to.
• I am a terrible gift giver ... like I suck rat balls when it comes to giving gifts.
• I'm starting to hate "The Final Countdown". (Lego Rockband ... Crichton's new favorite song)
• Do do do dooo ... dodalootootdo do... grrrr.....
• I haven't gone Easter Basket shoppin' yet.
• I love the candy and Hate the Easter Bunny like I hate Santa, but more.
• I laugh out loud at the South Park Holiday Episodes ...
• I think children and cartoons swearing is HI-larious.
• And farting. Me and Sagan fart and giggle on a daily basis.
• Taco Bell contributed to A LOT of giggles last night.
• I'm the WORST give-away blogger IN THE ENTIRE INTERNET!

RE: Anonymous Comment

Last week, I published a post addressing my reasoning for going to the LDS church, even tho I struggle.

I got several encouraging and thoughtful comments. And an anonymous one:

As I read your comments on church, it sounds like your are searching for something to hold on to. You have to ask yourself, if you ask questions that you know will stir things up a bit and make it more 'interesting' what are you really trying to do? Are you seeking answers or information? Or, are you attempting to play devil's advocate? If you play that role for very long, it is a role that is easy to become.

My suggestion would be to start searching for the reality of who Christ is and develop a personal relationship with him, one that will be something for you to hold on to. When He becomes real to you, you will know it, and you will never doubt who he is. You will never have to ask yourself, "Why do I go to church" again. Because you will know.

There is something about an anonymous comment that riles me up a little. You think you are right, but that the Truth will offend me. If you think you are speaking the truth, why not sign your name to your testimony?

Anonymous: did you ever stop to think I am not blogging to entertain you/y'all? I am not "playing" any role at all, but actually thinking and questioning and pondering, however publicly? Ever think that it's not Jesus Christ I have a problem with, but my beloved LDS Church? Why is it you assume Jesus isn't real to me just because I don't feel fellowshipped in RS? (To be fair, it's getting better all the time, as I put myself out there and try to get to know people.)

Anonymous, I know you're trying to spurn me towards developing a stronger faith in Christ, but what I hear is that if only I were as faithful as YOU, I would love church as much as you seem to.

I feel anchored by my faith in Jesus Christ, the atonement, the gospel. I assure you, I HAVE spent a significant amount of time praying and studying Him and He is very real to me. It is more that my interpretation of the gospel sometimes seems in opposition to the "church's official stand" and causes my conflicted feelings. And I am baffled by how my fellow members seem so uneffected, so unmoved by the gospel; I hear the testimonies each month, but we are so shy to say the same things to less active or non-member associates.

I appreciate your comments (I wish you felt safe enough to put your name to them). Truly, it's not so much the Jesus Christ is not real to me. I feel like we tend to pass judgment on our smoking, drunk, coffee drinking, swearing, immodestly dressed, tattooed, caught in sin brothers and sisters and use that as an excuse to be "in the world, but not of the world" and pretend they don't exist. If our neighbor doesn't go to church much, we don't bother getting to know their names.

If the Church is true, why are we afraid? Why do we avoid discussing it respectfully with people who may disagree?

I accuse myself here, above anyone else. But I want to be better.