Inquiring minds want to know

In lieu of anything monumental to blog about tonight, I thought I'd take a page from Gabi (our own personal Bawbwa Waltehs) and conduct a little interview of my own.

With one of my own.

Clicked off to hunt for free porn yet?

No? Good, here goes.

Tonight I will be interviewing my youngest, Hannah, who for some reason seems to think that bedtime does not apply to her tonight.

Name: Hannah.

Nickname: Odette (Watch Swan Lake much? Me thinks a little TOO much).

Middle name: Ruby (in real life, she doesn't have one).

Favorite color: Pink. P-I-N-K, Mom. That spells pink. Ha ha ha ha ha. (She finds herself quite hilarious)

Favorite animal: Bunny. (If you only knew my girl, you'd know how vast of an understatement this is. Someday I will blog about her love of bunnies)

What do you want to be when you grow up? A teacher because I want to learn lots of things. But a teacher really only teaches things. So, I guess I don't want to be that. Maybe I'll just be a mom. And really beautiful. I'll be really, really beautiful and have lots of children. My husband will be just like Daddy, except maybe not with brown hair. He'll probably have gray hair. And he'll be handsome, just like Daddy.

What do you think I was like as a little girl? Just like me, only not as pretty. Ha ha ha ha ha. (Nice one, kid.)

What kind of a mom do you think you will be like? A nice mom. I will take my children out to dinner at fancy restaurants like McDonald's. I will buy my little girls lots of Webkinz. And I guess for my little boys, too. I think I will have two girls and one boy. That's the opposite of our family.

Am I a nice mom? Yes.

Be honest? YES, GEEZ!

What's your favorite food that I make? Umm...[crickets chirping in the background, then a long pause]...panacakes.

What do you think Daddy does for work? He helps the hospital, and he gets people to the hospital. (Close, except that sometimes health care consultants have to FIRE people working in the hospital. I won't tell her if you don't.)

Who is your best friend? Jilian.

What is your favorite thing about me? [Long disapproving look] Umm, you smell good?

What are you afraid of? The dark because I think ghosts will pop up, but I know they're not alive.

If you know they're not alive, why are you afraid of them? Because I can't get rid of that feeling.

Why are you still awake right now - it's 9:58? Hee hee hee. Cause I want to sleep with you. (Husband is out of town, of course, which leaves me with a six-year-old bunkmate)

Are you waiting for me to come to bed before you will fall asleep? Yes.

Who is the mom here, me or you? ME. Ha ha ha, hee hee hee.

All right. Time for bed.

So concludes the end of this highly important interview in which I learned that I smell nice and am not in charge around here.

Now tell me something I didn't know.

What happens when Spiderman has a major growth spurt

I tried to make him promise never to wear this EVER. AGAIN.

He simply couldn't imagine why.

Don't give up on me

I'm not ignoring you, interpeeps; honest I'm not. Just been really busy.

School ended last week.

I took on some new work projects.

I got a new camera lens that I am wanting more time to play with.

We started a basement project that is requiring a lot of my time.

Oh, and did I mention the kids are home now? For the whole summer?

I promise, little blog, I'll be back soon. Lots of pictures and stories to tell.

Stay tuned...

P.S. For those of you that are interested, the mohawk lives on. Essentially, I am powerless on this subject. I've accepted it.

Death by Caramel Bars

It's time, dear interpeeps, for another edition of: MAKING MY FRIENDS AS FAT AS ME.

This week's tool: Caramel bars.

Now, don't be fooled by their simple appearance. These are not just ordinary caramel bars. They are special. They are 'wrestle your husband to the ground for the last one' caramel bars.

Not that I'd know anything about that, ahem.

And if I was sitting in prison, awaiting death row for killing a husband who dared to eat the last one, I'd probably make these my last meal. And I'd definitely die happy.

[Luckily, I really don't know anything about that. Phew.]

But I got this recipe years ago from my friend Sue, when we both lived in Boston. I can still remember the first time I tried them in her beautiful, spacious kitchen in Concord. Right then and there, I knew two things. One, I HAD to have this recipe, whatever the cost; and two, that Sue and I would be friends for life. Because a friend that gives you a recipe like this? She's one you'll trust for a long, long time.

So. Let's begin fattening you all up, shall we?

First melt two sticks of butter in the microwave:
Then add:

1 1/2 cups brown sugar
2 cups flour
2 cups oatmeal
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
Stir it all together. I like to use my hands. Makes me feel all earthy and homemaker-ish. The dough should clump together, but still crumble well.
Now press only HALF of the dough into a greased 9x13 pan.
Bake at 325 for 17 minutes. (How could you not love this recipe with a baking time of 17 minutes? Just sets my little heart all a flutter).

Remove it from the oven and dump an entire bottle of this over the top.
Yes, that's right. I said the entire bottle. Now would be a good time to mention that you might need to grab a few insulin shots while you're at the store getting supplies. One bite of this will likely send you into a diabetic coma.

But it's so worth it.
Next, generously sprinkle chocolate chips over the top of the caramel. Then top that with the remaining dough. You don't need to press the dough this time, just crumble all over the top.

Now pop this baby back into your 325 degree oven and bake for another 17 minutes.

Once you remove the pan from the oven, let it cool completely. They really need to sit for a while to allow that caramel gooey-ness time to firm up a bit. You can put them in the freezer to speed up this process if you're too impatient to wait. What? Me, impatient? Never.

And finally?

Hello, lover.

As your new BFF, I am thrilled to have helped you discover these lovelies. I say a little prayer of thankfulness for my friend Sue each and every time I make these.

You're welcome.

Why husbands should not be in charge of matters relating to hair

Remember this from last year?

Apparently, it has become a tradition.

Quite without my consent.

Here is what my darling boy looked like before the Husband took him for a haircut today:
And here is what he looks like now:

There are just no words (except words with four letters in them, and I vowed to stop saying those out loud).

Welcome to my world, internets.

Things I Learned Last Week

• You bloggers have very decided opinions when discussing being on-time or late. I had no idea there was such strong feelings on the subject. (Note to self: Be more controversial).
  
• Caramel bars make the Husband's Sunday school class a very happy place to be (recipe coming later this week, I promise).
• Pulling my brand-new dryer out from the wall a little bit will quite miraculously reduce the time it takes to dry a load from one-and-a-half hours to about 36 minutes.
  
• Doing this will cause me to swear out loud, and then wonder stupidly why I didn't do it a month ago.
  
• In my mind, stockpiling my house with books makes up for the lack of food storage. What we'll eat in a crisis? I don't know. But books, we'll have in droves.
  
• Watching my son pitch at his games and strike out several players is a very fun thing.
• Unless you are the player getting struck out. Then it's probably not so fun.
  
• Four-dollar-a-gallon gas prices will put a damper on the Husband's RV dream vacation this summer.
• The aforementioned gas prices will force us to stay in nice hotels instead (which thus turns our trip into more of MY dream vacation).
• My backyard has somehow become a bird sanctuary. Especially around five-thirty every morning when they converge right outside my window and speak to each other. AT THE TOP OF THEIR TINY BIRD LUNGS.
  
• This is making me not like them so much anymore.
• Self-given pedicures are against god's plan. When eagerly scraping dead skin off my heels, it is always a good idea to stop before the blood appears. Pain and suffering will surely follow, along with a solemn promise to never touch my own feet again.
  
• Favorite thing this week: Good friends and tents in my backyard, warm chocolate chip cookies, and a few sunny days that make up for all the rain.