Travel Swap and miscellany

Kelly is hosting a little travel swap, and today is the last day to sign up. I really like getting more in the mail than bills and Viagra coupons, and a swap is just the ticket. Head over to her blog for all the details. I've done several of these, and they are always really fun.

P.S. If you haven't received the recipes, email me at stiesthoughts@gmail.com and I'll send them to you. I tried to remember everyone who wanted one, but in case I missed you, let me know. (I'm especially going to send one to you, Celia. There's no sense letting you get away with all those fauxmade dinners if the rest of us can't.)

No, I'm the lucky one

As you can see.

He is such a good man. What did I ever do to deserve him?

Nothing like a little unexpected sweetness to make a rich life that much richer.

I love you, baby.

Why I am Lucky (Surprise Guest Post)

This is Josh (the “Husband”) writing a special guest post to Stie’s blog. Before I get on with this note, I want to acknowledge that this type of post is risky. Many will say that Christie is actually the author, writing in guise to fulfill egotistical tendencies or that we colluded to somehow increase her “readership”. Some readers may think that this is a clever ruse to “make-up” after a spat (I don’t think we have been in a fight recently…but for all I know, we may be in one right now). I want to make clear that that these or other ulterior motives were not the purpose of my post. I can assure you that she will be surprised and embarrassed when she reads this post. I hope she forgives me. Because this blog has become our electronic family record, I think this post is oddly appropriate.

I think I am one of the luckiest guys around because I found the partner that has the exact combination of characteristics to bring me the greatest happiness. Because I only knew Stie for only a short time before we were married, I did not or could not know the perfection of the match. I wish I could say that I had foresight and wisdom when I asked Christie to marry me, but I can’t…it was truly divine intervention that guided our decision. I will be eternally grateful that I acted on that intuition or inspiration, whatever you want to call it.

When we started out, I had the unfortunate mixture of ambition and lack of vision. In other words, I really wanted to get somewhere in life as fast as possible but had no idea where. These traits often lead me to be frustrated and unsatisfied. However, even in the beginning, Stie always believed in me. And, strangely, she still does even in times when I don’t or when I don’t measure up. I am sure some have rolled their eyes at some of our crazy decisions (which also tend to be the most life changing), but Stie can make anything work and is always 100 percent.

Stie has come a long way. When I first met her, she hung around the same group of friends that she had since she was 5 years old. She lived in one house her entire life. She hadn’t traveled widely... her 10 day trip to Chicago was the furthest she had ever been (she considered herself a native of Chicago for years after that trip). Our first move was a huge adjustment for her, it was difficult to navigate new areas, find new friends, and just feel comfortable…and we moved less than 15 miles away from her house.

Fourteen years later, I’ve lost count on the number of times we’ve moved but we’ve lived in 5 states, each in regions of the country that couldn’t be more different. But Stie has thrived! She has an uncanny ability to quickly acclimate to new situations and adapt to any social circumstances without being awkward. People are drawn to her because she is fun, authentic, and puts their needs above hers. She’s not the most “churchy” person I know, but she is one of the most Christian.

Stie manages all this while not being overwhelmed by her near single-parent status. I, fortunately, have found (through trial and error) a direction and career that I really enjoy and brings me satisfaction. Unfortunately for Stie, it requires significant demands of time which lead to sacrifice. There are months (like right this one) where I spend nights at the Marriott than at home. There are also times when I am home, but am not really there. Stie’s sheer capacity and ability to organize makes our house a place that I want to come home to. I attribute our kids’ cheerful dispositions and well-adjusted natures to the happy atmosphere Stie creates in our home. She is so strong and independent; I have learned to never underestimate her will.

Now, Stie has some crazy quirks, which I will continue to tease her about (you never know, maybe those will be the subject of another special blog post). But she is truly the most accomplished woman I know. She is beautiful, Stie gets even prettier as time goes on…I love having her as my trophy wife. I am so happy that she chooses to stay with me and creates calm out of the chaos that is my life. I would be lost without Stie. I love her more than I can tell her…but I should tell her more.

That is why I am lucky.

Salsa Chicken Burritos

Lisa has given me permission to share her award-winning recipe. May your taste buds enjoy the party you will be giving them:

Salsa chicken burritos

Put frozen chicken breasts (boneless skinless) in your crockpot. I used 3-4 breasts. Dump in one jar of bottled salsa (Lisa uses Pace Picante medium. I went with the mild due to the wimpiness of the taste buds around here).

Fill the empty jar about halfway with water to rinse it out and add it to the crockpot.

Let it cook on low all day. The chicken falls apart and is so tender and flavorful. Pull it apart with a fork. Serve on warm tortillas with cheese and sour cream (or whatever toppings you want).

My children DEVOURED this and begged for seconds, even though they could see tomatoes, onions, and peppers. (Take that, Jessica Seinfeld!)

That has never before happened in the history of the world.

And that, dear internets, is why she won (that and the absolute simplicity of her no-fail, little effort entry that embodies my cooking skills completely).

**If you want the rest of the recipes, email me. I'm still waiting to hear back from the senders with their permission before I send any more out. I will compile them into one file and happily email you the recipes, rather than post them here. I got a TON. And they were all just awesome.

Drumroll, please

After much deliberation, much cooking, and many exclamations of joy, surprise, and delight from my family, we have chosen a winner in the little recipe contest.

I must tell you what a difficult decision it was. EVERYTHING you all sent me was so good. There was diet pepsi chicken (awesome!); Brittney's chicken with rosemary, lemon, and bacon; chicken and dumplings; lasagna; chicken picatta; and Jessica's flank steak, to name a few. My family has been in heaven for the last two months. And I have had an ever-ready stack of recipes from which to feed them.

I cannot tell you how happy you have made the Husband. He thanks you from the very bottom of his heart.

But, a winner there must be, and so, without further adieu, the winner is --

Lisa-Marie and her salsa chicken burritos

Email me your address and I will send you a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com. This recipe was hands-down the favorite. My children ate them cheerfully, even though onions, tomatoes, and green chilies were clearly visible. That, my friend, is no easy task. Plus, they were super easy and so, so good.

To everyone who played along - many thanks.

My most embarrassing moment

When we moved to Boston in September of 2001, my boys were very young. McKay was two-and-a-half, and Chase had just turned one. With the husband already there working, I needed some extra help with the cross-country flight and solicited the ever-willing and long-suffering Marta for the job.

Other than a karma-destroying incident on the airplane (which I won't speak of here), the flight was pretty uneventful. When we arrived in Boston, we found out that our moving truck would be several days late. We had nothing to do. And two active boys that had already watched "The Fishy Show" [A.K.A. The Little Mermaid] about 9,654 times. So we decided to go sightseeing.

I had always wanted to go to Salem and see the sights, especially Nathanial Hawthorne's House of Seven Gables. It was about a 20-minute tour, and seemed doable with two adults to handle the boys.

Oh. If ONLY I had known.

Our tour began in the small, cramped living room of the House. While the tour guide was giving a background on the illustrious Nathanial Hawthorne, I noticed a peculiar stench. No, it was not the musky, moldy scent of a 400 year old house. That would have been pleasant in comparison.

The smell was coming from Chase's diaper.

I panicked, but knew that if I took him out to change it, we would lose our spot on the tour and not be able to get back. I figured it was only 20 minutes. He'd be okay, right? Sure, it's embarrassing, but what are you going to do?

Colossal mistake of huge proportions.

Right about that time, the tour guide was letting us know that all the artifacts in the home are original and so delicate that flash photography was not allowed, in order to preserve the authenticity of the historic house. I glanced down and noticed McKay pulling the curtains over his head.

Oh, this probably isn't good. I ought to pick him up and just carry him, I thought.

As I reached down to scoop him up into my arms, he gave those curtains a mighty tug, and snapped the built-in curtain rod RIGHT OFF THE WALL. You know, the one Nathanial probably BUILT HIMSELF.

So I'm trying to hold this wiggly child, and at the same time, I've got Nathanial Hawthorne's curtains on top of my head. I'm pulling the curtains off and I hear the tour guide yell, "STOP EVERYTHING! NOBODY MOVE. STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!"

I lift the curtains up sheepishly to face the angry and annoyed looks from the other people on our tour. By now, Chase's stench is stifling any and all remaining life out of the room.

The tour guide returns with the head of the museum and they begin to study the broken curtain rod to determine any restitution I would have to make. Poor Marta is holding the toxic-smelling Chase. McKay is wiggling and squirming to try and get out of my arms. My cheeks are hot and flushed, and the tears are threatening to spill over at any moment. Every eye in the room is glaring at me.

They finally decide that they will not make me pay for the damages and suggest in a less-than-friendly tone that we leave the tour.

Which we did.

Running and crying as fast as we could.

So the House of Seven Gables now has blinds where curtains once stood. My son has the lifelong honor of knowing he defaced a National Historic Landmark. I was shamed beyond anything I have ever known - before or since.

And I will fully understand if Marta never, ever wants to have children.

Top that, if you can.