Something That Makes Me Gag... Just a Little

I'm tired of the "I want to feel like a princess" talk that gets batted around all the time, especially in the wedding industry. Women and girls are always throwing that little gem out into conversation when talking about men, dating, engagements, weddings, anniversaries... "He makes me feel like a princess," "I want a princess dress," "today's my day to be the princess."

Gag.

Usually, this statement comes up when talking about "stuff"and/or money. A "princess" has a certain kind of engagement ring (one that can be measured in multiple carats), a dress that is covered in crystals, a tiara (insert cock-eyed emoticon here), gets married in a castle, and gets to act like a complete Bridezilla... (I say all of this with the height of sarcasm).

I'm sorry, but has anyone actually stopped to contemplate what an actual princess does all day?

Last I checked, being a princess has a lot more to do with press conferences, little privacy, and a shitload of responsibility than it does wearing frivolously, gaudy wedding dresses and spending more on a wedding than some people make in a year (although that part may be true, regardless). All you had to do was flip on the 72 hour "William and Kate" special TLC played this last weekend for 5 minutes to see that it's not all about getting what you want 24/7 and getting to act like a bitch while you do it.

Those people are hounded every second of every day. So much so that the media (who is doing the hounding) thinks it's so refreshing to see their "princess" out grocery shopping. We all hate when people gossip about us... And they have the entire world gossiping about them all. the. time. Is that really what people want??? Sure, some of the perks are definitely nice to dream about, but they don't necessarily have to do with being a "princess."

Personally, I would rather be treated like a countess. I mean, let's think about this. When is the last time you heard about the Countess of Strathmore and Kinghorne in the media? I know I haven't heard her name thrown out there (at least not since 2005...). Vast estates? Check. Lovely castles? Check. Awesome jewels? Check. Wealth and prestige? Check. Whole life publicized to the the entire world? ...Not so much.

You Know You're an Army Wife When...

I know there are about 500 of these lists creeping around the internets... And while most of them are true, they are also A) super sappy, B) overly-patriotic, C) trying too hard, D) not written by me, or E) all of the above. So, I have decided to put together a list that isn't sappy, overly-patriotic, trying... AT ALL, and totally written by me. Enjoy.

1. You're in mental anguish when someone calls a Marine, Sailor, Airman, etc "soldier." That's dumb, I know, but I'm pretty sure a fireman would be pissed if I called him an EMT... So, we're just going to leave it at that.
2. You pass thunder off as artillery. Apparently it's been storming here (which it rarely does, by the way), but I just figured the field artillery was at it, again. Woops.
3. You'd prefer your husband smell to washing his uniform. Velcro is not cool and it helps NO ONE!
4. You know that ACUs have a distinct smell, despite being newly clean. (Not even Febreeze can make it go away...)
5. You call the Air Force Base "Post." Even though you just bitched about someone calling your soldier a Marine and threatened to call a fireman an EMT. (Dammit).
6. You make "words" out of acronyms (AHRN is pronounced A-hern, BOLC is pronounce Bullock, the PX is the Pix, etc).
7. Your husband has just as many, if not more, pairs of colored socks than you do. And he owns more hats than you. And he always wears a necklace. His clothing is always coordinated...You know what, your husband has more accessories than you do and he's more put together. Just forget trying; jeans and a sweatshirt--that's all you really need.  
8. You quit watching Army Wives after season 2... Aside from that fact that those women would never have that kind of relationship in a million years, you know that for it to even be in the same realm as accurate, the whole cast would have been replaced by new characters by now. That, and it's sappy. And overly-patriotic. And not written by me.
9. A 12-hour work day means your husband is coming home early. (Dinner before 7?! YESSS!)
10. If you're husband is enlisted, you know that his job description includes cutting the grass outside the unit with scissors. And if he is an officer, he mostly likely spends a large portion of his day making power point slides.
11. You need a whole closet in your house just to store "unit paraphenalia." T-shirts, sweat-shirts, coasters, coffee mugs, beer glasses... All with unit crests and motos plastered all over them... And from units your husband has not been a member of for over 5 YEARS!
12. You know that mandatory fun events can only be held in extreme weather. Someone better have hypothermia or heat stroke at the end of the day, or it wasn't "fun"...
13. ...

I miss anything? I'm sure I did. Just let me know, and I'll add it!

Tasty Smothered Chicken

I should probably come up with a catchier name for this recipe. Like "Cowboy Chicken" or "Cluck Cluck Chicken" or "Chicken a La Oink." But I'm not that clever. And not that interested.

Anyway, this is a quick dinner that is always well-received. I'm sure I am not the only one to have a recipe in this vein. In fact, I am sure something similar is floating around pinterest even as I type this, but if there is... I didn't pin it. Or bother reading the recipe. This one is all me and it's pretty freakin' fantastic. According to my husband and kid, anyway (though, to be fair, the kid mostly just eats the barbecue sauce...). 

And just to tempt you some more, the critics (my husband) describe it as:

"Delicious."

"Incredibly Delicious"

and

"Barbecuey"

So, without further ado:

Tasty Smothered Chicken

What You'll Need:

2 large chicken breasts (4 small ones)
4 strips cooked bacon, crumbled
1/2 cup cheddar cheese
1 cup barbecue sauce (I use 1/2 cup of 2 separate sauces)
Salt
Pepper
Garlic powder
Glass Pan

1. Preheat oven to 325F. Grease Pan (this is a tough recipe, did I mention that?)

2. Place chicken in pan, pretty side up. I used two large chicken breasts, cut in half.

3. Sprinkle the chicken with salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste.

4. As I mentioned above, I like to mix two barbecue sauces together--a sweet, molasses-based sauce like Sweet Baby Rays, and a more southern, spicy sauce (I love Stubbs, and was just able to get it in the PNW... but only at Costco).

5. Spoon about a third of the barbecue sauce [mixture] over the chicken.

6. Place half of the cheese (I used a spicy buffalo cheddar) over the chicken and sprinkle with crumbled bacon.

7. Smother with the remaining barbecue sauce, being sure to cover the cheese, and place in oven on the middle rack. Let cook through (about 30 minutes).

8. Remove chicken and set oven to broil.

9. Place remaining cheese over the chicken and return to oven.

10. Let cheese melt under broiler (< 5 minutes).

11. Serve!

Potty Time

I feel like I have accomplished some sort of remarkable feat: E wants to sit on her potty.

I know, that's just really... weird and a little gross. But a little over a month ago, we started "potty training." Her little tush was getting so ravished by diaper rash, I finally just told myself I had to get her out of the diapers. We had tried creams, ointments, anti-biotics, diet changes, diaper changes, wipes, no wipes, naked time... And nothing was working.

So, for a few days, we tried potty training. Every 30-45 minutes or so, we would pull down the panties, sit on the potty, and wait until there was something to clap about. We had some accidents, we had some successes.... we ate a lot of raisins and chocolate chips (hey, who says bribing isn't good every once in awhile?). But in the end, it was me who was becoming trained, and not her. We saw a huge improvement with the diaper rash (as in GONE!), and decided to keep it up when we were conveniently at home.

And then we went to visit the grandparents, got out of the groove, and really haven't looked at the potty since getting home. It's been sitting all alone in the corner, untouched, unused, and stinking slightly of bleach. Yes, that corner of my downstairs has the faint aroma of swimming pool.

Yeah....

Anyway, so, yesterday, we're finishing up dinner when E brings me her potty. It's a nifty little travel potty that's about the size of a large Honey Baked Ham, but not nearly as heavy. It seals shut when closed and has a nice little carrying handle, making it fun for her to lug over to me. She hands it over and says, "Yeah?"

I asked her if she needed to go potty, to which she nodded and said "Uh huh!" (She used to say "Yes, please," but her manners vanished one night only to be replaced by teen-aged forms of grunting). I opened up the potty, got her naked from the waist down, and she sat on it all by herself.

Cue huge welling of parental pride followed by gleeful praises. And plenty of "did you go potty?"

She stood up to show me an empty potty, ran around the great room, and then sat back down. And then repeat. Again, and again, and again. There was a lot of this. We eventually rolled our eyes, agreed that she is still pretty young, and decided that her liking the potty was at least a start.

Two seconds later, she peed on the hardwood floor.

Well, her fascination with the potty continued this afternoon. She had a grand old time sitting on it, standing up from it, sitting on it... Not actually using it... (Again, she peed on the floor and then promptly slipped in it. And, in case you were wondering, this was about an hour after her bath). But I feel like she is getting somewhere. Like she is starting to recognize that there is some correlation between "that feeling" and the potty, even if she hasn't quite been able to put two and two together. And that gives me hope that I may have actually done something right...

...Even if I have no idea what it is or how I did it.

So, in the meantime, I am hoping for a huge epiphany followed by many trips to the potty, little pink girl panties, and tons and tons of bleach....

... It really is amazing what excites you when you become a parent...

What to Expect When You're Not Expecting

I'm going to honest here. I never once read What to Expect When You're Expecting while I was expecting.

As soon as we found out I was pregnant with E, Steve made me rush out to Borders (may they rest in peace) to buy said coveted baby bible. I think I made it through about three pages when he snatched it up and made it his own personal companion... And I never saw the book, again. He took it with him to school, to work, to... well, he was mostly just at school and work all the time, so that's probably it. But it went with him. In fact, people started coming up to me to congratulate us when I was only six weeks pregnant because they had seen him reading the book... Yeah. So much for keeping the little bundle of joy under wraps for the first trimester.

Anyway, the book mysteriously resurfaced a few days ago. E's new favorite thing to do is remove books from the bookshelf and bring them to me. Mostly, she ends up dropping them off with me for a quick visit before reacquiring them and placing them someplace random on the bookcase (as though there is actually a rhyme or reason to that particular mess). Her favorites today were some of my old text books from college: Into That Darkness (Nazi commandant memoir), A Compiled History of Australia (I think that one is pretty obvious), and Les Liaisons Dangereuse (an English translation. Because, even after 10 gazillions semesters of French, I still would need a French-English dictionary to make it through that one). Luckily, she doesn't really want me to read any of those to her. When she wants to be read to, she brings board books, thankyouverymuch (she likes But Not the Hippopotamus the best these days). I just don't think I could read holocaust histories to my 18-month-old.

So... Anyway. The other day, while I was trying to enjoy 24 blissful seconds alone in the bathroom while her father kept an eye on her (ha), she waltzed right up to the door, knocked on it very politely, and then proceeded to push it open and present me with What to Expect While You're Expecting.

And, for the first time since coming into possession of said book, I have begun to read it.

I will say, it's a lot less daunting when you're actually not expecting. I mean, really, most of the book is comprised of "1001 defects your baby could exhibit." But since my baby is here and driving me crazy without any of those crazy defects, I can read it without hyperventilating, vomiting, and wanting to pass out (but, I guess that could have been the morning sickness, as well... Hmm). I just sort of wander through the passages all the while muttering "haha, suckers!" in my mind whenever something unpleasant comes up that I didn't have to deal with.

Sorry to any of you who did experience those unpleasant side effects.

Yes, it is a much more jolly read when there aren't any little critters bumping around your uterus. I even read up on twins and multiples. How those pregnancies are different, how they're the same. How you "get" to gain more weight (5 lbs...really? This is even noteworthy? Come on!). How incredibly stretched out your uterus becomes. And how your morning sickness and heartburn will double. Beautiful stuff like that. And I can safely say: I have a plan should that ever be me (it includes lots of chocolate, a PCS request to the East Coast, and a winning lottery ticket....(Sounds likes my plan for just about everything, actually, Bad weather, Monday mornings, what to have for dinner, evenings that end in Y...)).

So, my advice? Read it when you don't need it. Especially if you are in need of birth control and no one wants to run out to the store for more condoms.

Spice Things Up in the Kitchen

Obviously, I have been less than stellar at updating this past weekend. But, I have good enough reason: Game of Thrones, True Blood, sunny days, and my husband's birthday.

We've been a little caught up with HBO. Which I am definitely not complaining about; Game of Thrones has finally helped me get back into writing. After being gone visiting my parents, I had been a little out of the habit and in need of a little push. I am on the verge of breaking 60,000 words, which gets me about halfway. Getting some good-ole-fashioned fantasy on the brain has helped immensely to get me to the peak of halfway.

Anyway, since I have nothing of real worth to post about, I thought I would make a quick list of some fast dinner fixes I tried this last week (completely made up from my own head, so there really is no "recipe" to write up).

• Grilled vegetables brushed with Thai Sweet Chili Sauce and cilantro. I made a spicy coconut-and-pecan crusted shrimp for dinner last night to go with ginger and lemongrass rice. I threw some zucchini and yellow squash onto the grill  with the shrimp and used the left over chili sauce and cilantro marinade over the veggies--it was fantastic and a nice departure from the usual olive oil and Italian herbs approach I normally take. (Seriously. Chopped cilantro and that sauce. That's it. Done).
• That ginger and lemongrass rice I mentioned? Yeah, throw some fresh lemon grass, a tablespoon or so of minced ginger, a couple cloves of garlic, chopped cilantro, and fresh basil into the pot (or rice cooker) and just let it go. Great flavor.
• Cream cheese stuffed chicken. Don't tell my vegan mother. She might have a heart attack. I had planned to use mascapone I had left over from the quiche I made a couple weeks ago, but it had grown some rather unappealing looking spots, so I ended up using regular Philadelphia brand cream cheese instead. I mixed it with some pepper, a little salt, minced garlic, fresh basil, shredded spinach, and sun-dried tomatoes. I rolled it up into a couple chicken breasts, and voila. Dinner. It was fantastic with a brandy reduction sauce and steamed mix of broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots.
• Savory whipped sweet potatoes. I usually make my sweet potatoes with butter, brown sugar, and cinnamon, but changing it up a bit was actually a pretty good idea. Try them with a little salt, scallions, and paprika. Very tasty.
• Real Guac. One of my friends posted about getting real guacamole a few weeks ago. It reminded me how much I love a real, fresh guacamole. And it makes a great side or salad. Just chop up a couple avocados, a large tomato, mince up about about a quarter of a red onion, a clove of garlic, and stir. Spritz the juice of half a lime and sprinkle with a pinch of salt. Fantastic.

I'm trying to come up with some new and exciting things for dinner around here, so keep your eye out for new recipes. Next time I promise I will have colorful pictures and actual recipes (not just my usual "that looks about right" approach).

How Tofu Murdered My Kettle

So... No more kettle. It's in about 5 different pieces in the trash right now. All because I decided we needed to have tofu for dinner one night this weekend.

I really like tofu, especially when it's cooked right. I'm sure a lot of people could argue with me over what is "right," but unless they agree with me, they're wrong. I prefer my tofu crispy on the outside and firm on the inside. I really can't stand when it's too soft, runny, and not even browned on the outside. If it looks like flan, I'd rather not touch it.

Unfortunately, when we were eating vegan last year, it took a lot of trial and error to figure out how to get the tofu that way. There is a Vietnamese/Thai/Japanese restaurant around the corner that cooked it just right--I could eat their tofu all day long (and with their peanut sauce... oh, yum). But spending $30 for dinner for two was just getting expensive, so I set out to do it on my own. I mean, how hard could it be?

Hard. Very, very hard.

(That's what she said).

Anyway, after about 5 attempts, I learned that the type of tofu is very important (hint: buy the stuff found in your produce section, not the stuff you find with the soy sauce). After buying the right stuff, you want to suck as much moisture out of the tofu as possible. The best way to do that is treat the tofu like an eggplant: salt it, lay it over some paper towels, and press it with something heavy.

And, as you guessed it, my kettle makes a perfect heavy pressing object. I filled that sucker up, put it on top of one of my cutting boards, and stacked it on the tofu. After about an hour, I changed out the paper towels (which were soaking wet--score!), flipped the tofu over, and went back on my merry way. And about 30 minutes later, there was a loud crash and my kettle was dead on the floor, little pieces of black handle everywhere and water flooding the kitchen.

Sad for my kettle.

So, the lesson to take from this story: If you want to murder your kettle, make tofu for dinner.