Ketchup.

Can I just say how happy it has made me to read your comments and realize that I am not the only one with the crazies?
Or maybe crazies attract crazies?
Either way, thank you for making me have hope again.

In spite of the hormone festival, here is what we have been doing lately.
A little of this:

You can see our tiny jeeps circled in the photo:

Beautiful scenery (although the leaves have not changed yet. Soon though!)

A picnic with grandpa's famous pasta salad:



A little bit of soccer for Shayne and Brendan.


With a super-hot and studly coach.
Their Dad:

A winning goal kick!

GO TEAM!
And Jayden is in football this year.

The only reason that I tuned into football games when I was younger was to see the cute man-bums in those tight football pants.
Now that it is my own SON and his geeky friends, it is a little eeew for me.

Since Sam is only working two jobs, over seeing building a new bowling center, being the executive secretary for the ward, coaching the soccer team and generally being a dad, we figured he could squeeze assistant football coach in there.
Besides, living with me lately, has made it pretty tempting to be gone.
Anywhere but home.
I can't blame him.
I wish I could leave me too.


Today, we are venturing out to the State Fair.
I am hoping to find freaky things to make me feel a little better about myself.

I just made these cookies to take along. I clipped the recipe from a magazine, and they are actually good! They are cookies with some serious substance.
Just one of them filled me up.
Cookies for breakfast?
I like it...
And an internet stolen image:

Breakfast Cookies

Ingredients
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup smooth peanut butter
1-1/4 cups sugar
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 cup water
1 egg
1 Tbsp. vanilla
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup rolled oats
1 cup milk chocolate pieces
3 cups Cherrios
Directions
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. In large mixing bowl beat butter and peanut butter with electric mixer on medium to high speed for 30 seconds. Add sugar, baking soda, and salt. Beat until combined, scraping sides of bowl. Beat in water, egg, and vanilla until combined. Beat in flour until combined. Beat in as much of the rolled oats as you can with mixer. Stir in any remaining rolled oats. Stir in choc. chips and Cheerios.
2. Drop dough by scant 1/4 cupfuls about 3 inches apart onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Flatten slightly. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until edges are lightly browned. Cool on cookie sheet for 5 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool completely. Store cookies in tightly covered container for up to 5 days or freeze for up to 3 months. Makes 24 (2-cookie) servings.

I will report back later on the fair.
Photos will follow.
And I'll be sure to eat lots of fried things on a stick.

This too shall pass, yes?

My hormones are out of control.
I am not going to lie, things have been pretty tense around here.

Never fear, I have a doctors appointment set, and I am not leaving that place until I am fixed.

It really, really sucks to get old(er).

I haven't even tried to figure what is going on with my mood swings.
I used to be able to keep my crap together, and knew when "my bad week" was coming for the month.
I would stock up on some chocolate or something, and get through it.
Now, however, it seems like I only have one "good week" a month.
Some days, I am filled with a bitter sort of rage...I feel like I could implode at any minute.

Other days I cry a lot.
From overwhelming blessings...(gratitude)
Because I found a picture of the kids when they were babies...(nostalgia)
Remembering what it was like eating Lofthouse cookies without guilt. (wistfulness)
Or generally weeping from plain old anxiety.

I am super fun to be around when I am like this.
It is like living with Bruce Banner.

I am a hot mess o' crazy right now.
I can't even tear my own hair out, cause, well...it's leaving of it's own free will.

My hair is shedding.
Every day, after I shower, I am picking hairs off of my body, the counter, the floor. The stray hairs tickle the back of my arms, and drive me insane until I find them.
I have been known to ask random strangers in grocery stores to "please see if they can see a hair by the back of my arm?"
"Get it?"
"Thanks!"

The hair that is falling out of my head, is growing on my chin.
Or my moles.
I have invested in a very expensive pair of precision tweezers.
It is almost a full-time job, the tweezing.

I bought a nose-hair trimmer.
I NEEDED it.

Insomnia.
Fatigue.
The bloating.
Night sweats.
Day sweats.
Random break-outs of acne? WTH? I am 30 freaking SEVEN!

The only thing that had been bringing me happiness is my nightly bowl of ice cream.
I wanted to share with you, my fine reading pool: My Recipe for Happiness.

And also, because if I am gaining weight from all this happiness, then I need to make my friends a little fatter too, so we can just love each other in spite of our physical imperfections.

Do you have a can of evaporated milk?
Do you have ten minutes?
And some ice cream?
Then proceed to the happy place:

Hot Fudge Sauce
1 c. sugar
3 T. cocoa
6 T. butter
3/4 c. evaporated milk

Boil for five minutes, stirring constantly then add:
1 t. vanilla

Let it cool a bit, and top that ice cream!

I store mine in the fridge in an empty frosting container.

Rinse that pan out, and let's go again!

Caramel Sauce
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. packed brown sugar
6 T. butter
3/4 c. evaporated milk

Boil for five minutes, stirring constantly then add:
1 t. vanilla

Cool a bit, and top your second bowl of ice cream.
Or third.
Whatever you need.

Canada Episode III (final)

I totally know that you guys don't care about the final post, cause it has been so long and all, but I finally edited everything else, and dimmit! I am posting the rest of the trip.

Let's see where we left off...
Oh yes, heading out to Prince Edward Island to see ANNE!
Also Green Gables.
The Anne of Green Gables.
That Anne Girl.
Anne with an "E."
I heart her.
On the way out to PEI, every turn of the freeway opened up a beautiful new scene.

It sure beat the trash strewn freeways of Utah.
We reached one particular crest in the road to have it open up into a sweeping field of yellow wildflowers.
The whole hillside was covered!
Before I could catch my breath long enough to holler out "STOP!" Sam had already pulled over.
The van doors opened, and all the kids climbed out, skidded down the gravel roadside, and posed for the paparazzi mom.

You know you are bad when you don't even have to ask anymore.
The family knows a photo-op when they see it.
Seriously though, beautiful, eh?

Since Prince Edward Island is well, an island, to get to it from Nova Scotia, you have to take a bridge.
A seventeen MILE BRIDGE.
Over the water.
With nothing below you.
But water.
It was a little freaky to me.
I am glad I don't have to commute it often. Or ever.

On the way home we saw the finger of God from the bridge.

Isn't that a weird shot?
The setting sun peeked out for a couple of minutes.
Anyway, back to Anne!
We were very lucky that she was home that day.

Never mind my cheesy smile.
I just love Anne.
I have always loved Anne.
We are kindred spirits.
And it was pretty surreal to actually be at Green Gables.
It was not the Green Gables shown in the movies, but the actual Green Gables that Lucy Maud Montgomery based the description on in her Green Gables novels.

We got to go inside.
They had some of the props that were used in the movie.
One of Anne's "puffed sleeved" dresses:

The slate that Anne broke over Gilbert Blythe's head:

"Lover's Lane" (with two middle-aged lovers.)

And the "Haunted Woods."

It was all very green and pretty.
They say that although L.M. Montgomery eventually moved away from Prince Edward Island--her heart never left that beautiful place.

I can see why.

The next place we went was called "The Bay of Fundy."
It was a natural park, where the tide rolls in and out so quickly that you can actually walk on the bottom of the ocean floor.
The tide rolls out, and leaves this sticky mud, and some hermit crabs.
Then you have to get your butt out of there, cause it rises up almost 70 feet.

They are not kidding.
Look how cool, though:

The rock formations were awesome.

The mud? Not so much.
It was like glue.

Meet Dumb and Dumber:

Exploring in the quick-sand like mud.
Slippery mud that would suck your feet in, and not let go.
"Stay on the rocks!" we said.





That night we learned how to use a looney coin-operated washer and dryer at the hotel.

Other highlights of the trip, in a quick summary:
Peggy's Cove, with a very cool lighthouse.
On the way out there, I thought it was interesting to see these random boulders on the hillsides.
They were deposited when the melting glaciers were moving through when the island was formed.

The lighthouse:

I am not sure why we don't have any lighthouses in Utah.
We need to get us some.
I guess we do have that tin shack at the top of Timpanogos.
The kids liked hiking around on the rocks at Peggy's Cove.

We had life-changing donuts from this joint:



I know that the 40 count container is supposed to be a "family pack."
But I ate it all myself.
Don't judge me.
They were donut HOLES for pete's sake.
Those don't even count.

We had a ghetto picnic at one point.

Here is a funny story.
We hit the grocery store to get bread and peanut butter and jam, right?
Cause it is cheap and filling.
And kind of a tradition.
So we had my mother in law, Bonnie go find the jam.
Look what she bought!
LOOK!!

RAISIN FREAKING JAM!
What the heck?
As she clearly forgot, that raisins are the fruit of the devil, I marched her right back to the jam shelf to help her select some good old-fashioned grape maybe?
Raisin....sigh...

Oh, guess what?
The joke was on me.
Turn that RAISIN jam jar around, and what have you?

Oh.
Grape.
Uh, I guess raisins are considered grapes.
In some form.
A thousand pardons, Bonnie.

I was determined to see a real live Canadian Moose.
And this was all I got.
From the moving van none the less.

If you squint, it looks kind of real.
Eh?

We also took the kids to a free ocean life museum.
It was very hands-on and ended up being a highlight for the kids.
Free is great too.
We were spending a lot of money on Canadian candy bars.

Something had to give.

The lobster in this next picture we were told, weighed around 25 pounds. He was so old, that he had stopped shedding his shell, and actually had barnacles and moss and crap growing on his claws.
Pinchers?
Whatever.
He was big. Trust me.

There was also this bright royal blue guy.

That is the color "albino" lobsters are.
Something about missing pigment.


Then we took a drive to see the temple in Halifax.

Nice to have a familiar site, even when you are in another country.

And that was about it.
I will wrap this thing up with some of my favorite scenic photos.
And I am headed to bed.
Dreaming of Timbits.

For just two quarters...

Brendan came downstairs the morning of my birthday sporting this:

"What's up with that?", I asked him.
"What do you mean?" he said, stroking his felt 'stache with the thumb and index finger of his right hand.
"The sweet 'stache." I said.
"Oh, thiiiiiis," he said, dragging out the word, and jiggling his eyebrows up and down "I think it makes me look distinguished."

Most kids spend their change on gumballs, or temporary tattoos.
Not Brendan.
He spent his 50 cents on a self-adhesive porn 'stache.

And wore it with pride to sixth grade.

I can't get enough of this kid.

37 years ago TODAY!

I came into the world.
Backwards.
"Posterior" is the medical term for my birth position.
"Painful" is the layman's term for my birth position.

My birth would prove to be a foreshadowing for everything my parents had to endure raising me.

I remember during one particularly painful time period, my Mom talking to me late one night:

"If I could just show you your life five years from now, you would see! You would see how quickly that this too shall pass. I wish I could show you...things will get better!"

The desperate cry of a mother, willing her broken child to find hope.

I am glad the crystal ball was broken then.

We laughed later, because almost exactly five years from that point, I was trapped at home with a three year old, an 18 month old, and newborn twins.

I may have committed suicide with a plastic butter knife seeing that scene.

Fast forward a few years...
The kids are less needy.
I sleep through the night.
I have "me" time now.
I really appreciate things, I may even be more mature.
I live a very blessed life.

Granted, everything droops.
I am deep in pre-menopause.
And almost needing reading glasses, or else they have just started printing things smaller...
But life is good.

My Mom was on the right track.
Things got better.
Things keep getting better.

37 is not a bad place to be.

Thanks, Mom.
Glad we both hung in there.

Merry Christmas to all the moms out there!

I am not even going to apologize for not blogging.

Hey man, when I find myself "having a life" and NOT sitting in front of the computer for entertainment, it has to be a good thing? Yes?

It is SAHM Christmas today.
I needed to publicly express my appreciation to all the school teachers and faculty who make it possible for me to regain my sanity.

Don't get me wrong, we had probably the best summer in Wadley history.
Why?
The pool pass.

I did not ONCE hear any of my kids say "I am bored."
I barely saw them this year.

Anyway, they all went back to school today.

"'Bye kids! Y'all don't come back for six hours, ya hear?!"
Even the baby.
She started first grade.
None of that half-day Kindergarten crap.

I gleefully sent them off, and now I am sitting here.
Paralyzed.
I have so many possibilities of things that I can do...by myself...that I can't do anything.

This plus the fact that I am injured.

I better back up a bit.
This:

Is my Hog.
It is a pretty sweet 1970's retro "Champ."
I like to cruise around on it.
Sam finally got it all fixed up for me this summer.
I feel like pretty hot crap on it.
Seriously.
It's awesome.
That Hog tops out at about 25 mph.
Nothing like feeling the wind whip through the hairs on your unshaven legs!

So anyway, it needs a new Petcock.
In case you are wondering, a petcock is a real thing.
Here is a picture of my petcock:

I have blogged about petcock's before.
About Sam's petcock.
HERE.
Maybe one day, everyone in our family can have their own petcocks.
That would make for a great Christmas card photo.

So my petcock is currently faulty.
It leaks.
And every once in a while, I get this random surge of power to the hog.
Well, last night, it surged as I was rounding a corner and I barely stopped myself.
Fred Flinstone like.
While I was wearing flip-flops.

The road took off the top of my toe.

There is going to be a graphic picture next.
Just warning you.
Are you ready?
If you do not like gross and inappropriate things, you are kinda on the wrong blog.
Just sayin'.
Anyway, here are my nine and a half toes:

It blew off my polish even!
The black parts may be tar or bruising.
No one can know yet.
I am not scrubbing it.
It hurt so farking bad that I took four advil and sat in the tub.

With my foot out.

I was in the tub so I could cry in peace, and blame it on the water from the jets.
No one wants to see an almost 37 year old lady bawling from an owie.
It's just embarrassing for all.

So after the Advil kicked in, I went to bed.
I wrapped it with a glob of Neosporine and a pantyliner.
Dude, it was too big of a job for a bandaid.
Don't judge.

This morning it feels a lot better.

But last night, I dreamed that I really wanted to go to the gym, so I put my toe in an old-school 35mm film canister, filled with cotton, and could still work out. YAY!

I am sick.
Who dreams about the gym?
I guess ol' Nine Toes does.

In spite of having only nine working foot digits, it is still going to be a great day here.
I will leave you with the wise words from the folks at Staples who so eloquently sum up my feelings this day:

<---here is the LINK, cause some folks are getting an error code for the above.
Enjoy!