Goodbye 1sts

Oh, dear...she's done with 1st grade. Graduated without fan fare, only the requisite cleaning of desks and an early dismissal this gorgeous May day. According to that last report card...that's it, she's done. They are kicking her to the streets for 9 weeks until they expect her back with bells on for 2nd grade. I told her we could celebrate with a quick trip to our favorite Sichuan joint up the street. We ate too many pork dumplings and spicy tofu plates. Tomorrow we kick off our summer holiday with a trip to our favorite little Florida island, Captiva. I will sit in my chair and watch her build sandcastles with her sister.

The second picture is exactly how she looked on that 1st day of 1st grade. Except for the missing front tooth now, I'd say she only looks a little smarter and a wee bit older.

Just as I am sure the 9 weeks of summer, trips to the pool, fire fly catching and mud pie making will be, this year has been fleeting and fast.

I tell her all the time we need to place a brick on her head. Not that she's in any danger of matching me at 6' tall any time soon, or in this lifetime, but I simply can't stand the fact that she's closer to 8 than 7 and she's better than me at fractions.

Miss Olivia had a small graduation of her own recently. Onto to her next year of preschool in September. Her school celebrated with a rousing rendition of Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear. I was dreaming Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear after hearing it no less than 6,000 times the last few weeks. In September she will start a three's preschool class. She knows all her letters and colors and I'm sure she'll be spouting off fraction facts soon too.

I'm not going to wax and wane anymore. I'm not going to cry...sniff sniff. I'm just going to relax this summer and try to catch their each and every move...until they drive me nuts that is and I'm praying to see that big yellow bus pull up again at the corner of the cul-de-sac.

Until then, let the summer games begin.

A little foodie love

Had a request for what was in that crock pot the other night. The one that made Ava do a happy meat jig. And since I am not above a good EASY crock pot recipe or casserole dish, I'm obliged to share a little foodie love. By the way, I love me a casserole and have some American thighs to show for it. Especially in the winter, smothered with cheese, bubbling up at 350 degrees for 1 hour in the oven. You know the kind you can still smell in the morning? And it is too cold to open the windows so you have to burn a Yankee candle? Oh yeah. Not one shred of east coast urban gal left in me...color me Indiana.

Well, here it is.

1. 1 big hunk of pork (I used a huge slab of pork shoulder that had probably been in the freezer since 1996. Kidding, I cleaned the freezer in '98 so it couldn't have been that old.) Defrost the thing, however you might.

2. Pour one can of beer in the crock pot.

3. Pour one jar of banana peppers juice and all into the crock pot.

That's it folks. The whole kit and kaboodle. Now, I let it simmer for 2 hours on high and then another 5-6 on low. But if you are a working stiff...put that puppy on low for 10 hours.

When you open the crock pot use a big fork to sort of pull it all apart, making it shredded. I swear I'd never eat loose meat never mind swoon over it. Good God, I feel as though I'm channeling my inner Paula Dean. Don't you just love her?

Now I know you are wondering...did she make that up? Oh hell no, you know me by now. Why invent it when you can steal it? I give full credit to a gal named Courtney, she hostessed a Pink Evita event recently and told me what was making her house smell yummylicious. It's her recipe or maybe her mother-in-laws, who really knows?

Go forth and make pulled pork. May the force be with you.

Alien Abduction

I suppose I could write about all the reasons why I couldn't post in the last umm...few weeks. I'll just cut to the chase and give it to your straight, I was abducted by aliens and they wouldn't let me have internet access. They had me wearing my hair in two buns over my ears and sitting in a stainless steel room in a white robe. They kept calling me by my catholic confirmation name, Leah and absolutely no wireless access.

In my bloggy absence it appears as if life has gone on here at the cul-de-sac. The 7 year old has declared herself more genetically related to her father (her words, not mine) due to the fact that she has discovered a true and deep everlasting love for meat. Yes, meat. I made pulled pork in the crock pot after the aliens dropped my ass back in suburbia and this is what I got.

Declaration that the adopted child does indeed have more of her father's ever-loving carnivorous self pulsing through her veins than the broccoli I've been pushing for six years. This scene was following by a very groovy happy meat dance. Highly entertaining, if you don't get out much like me.

Liv has been up to good stuff as well. She rides a bike now. She's three. No training wheels. Proving that her people were circus people, she spent 4 hours riding one way in a circle this past Sunday in the cul-de-sac. She never fell, not once.

It's strange but true. Her sister and friend next door were highly embarassed, as they only rode scooters until Sunday. They each hopped on a bike and started riding for the first time as well.




When you look at the last picture doesn't the music from Wizard of Oz when the wicked witch is riding her bike play in your head? Dunt dee dunt dee duhhh duhhh.

I was kidding about the alient abduction thing, no really I was. I'm jsut super busy with ye' old little business. Follow along as I post pictures of my new iron, the shark...and see if I can make 18 bags in 18 days while maintaining some semblence of mental sanity. Follow along at Pink Evita if you'd like.