Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

(Betcha can’t figure out where he works huh?)

Dear 2009,

Hi sweetie.  I’ll make this short since I know you are on your death bed.  And for that I’m truly so sorry. 

When you were just a twinkle in Father Time’s Eye I declared you “My Year” and whoa, you didn’t disappoint.   I knew we would be close friends but I never expected you to present me with an engraved “Becky + 2009 = BFF 4eva” necklace. 

The minute I rang you in, you were a good time.  Last New Years was the best I have had in years.  Shortly after I moved into a fabulous new apartment, and My President was inaugrated. And that was just the first month!

During you I got letters from lonely prisoners, got my finances finally in order, had a fun carefree summer, and maybe most important of all, finally met him.

And for that 2009, I’ll forever be grateful.

Hey, before you join the other years in Past Year Heaven, since we are so close and all, do you think you could put in a good word with your baby brother 2010 for me?  Since I still have bruises from your bitch Step Sister 2008, I think I deserve one more fabulous year.  Pretty please?

See ya on the other side 2009.  And hey, thanks again!  I’ll never forget you.

Love,
Me

Before Matt came along our small but cute kitchen was mostly used for storage of my purse, wine and the coffee maker.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy cooking, I do!  But it’s not very fun to cook for a kid who’s main diet consists of peanut butter on a bagel, yogurt, hot dogs and if we were getting really “Top Chef ” chicken nuggets with frozen corn. 

So when Matt graciously entered my life, the June Cleaver gene kicked in hardcore.  Now I’m that woman who has her little list at the grocery store, getting all the ingredients for the week’s family meals (please read that sentence in Sarah Palin’s voice).  I do love it.  Until I actually have to cook the meal… in my kitchen.

As you can see, I don’t have the biggest kitchen (and it’s not normally this messy.  This was after a dinner party with lots of wine wherein I thought, “Dude! Check out this mess.  Totally taking a picture!”)  What’s worse is that this kitchen is in the middle of the apartment.  Not even close to a window or any other major ventilation.  Sure there is a fan over the stove but it’s more like a hint of a fan with the air pressure of a heavy breather.  

The other thing in my small enclosed kitchen?  The downstairs smoke alarm.  Because that’s a great spot for it. 

Again, before Matt, I never noticed it because as luck should have it, not much smoke is created while making Frosted Flakes.  But cooking that man of mine up some sausage in the morning?  Woo boy! 

“BLLLLLEEEEEEPPPPP!”

This piece of fire prevention is not subtle.  It’s fog horn loud.  It’s F-16 jet loud.  It’s Fran Drescher loud.  Not only that but it’s as sensitive as a 14 year old girl with PMS having a bad hair day.  You just think a hot thought and it goes off.  This smoke alarm is VERY dedicated to it’s work. No fires are going on under it’s watch!

Which is endearing but really?  Taking something out of the oven?  “BLLLLEEEEPPPPP!”  Making rice on the stove?  “BLLLLEEEEGGGGHHH!”  God forbid you flip those pancakes! “BLLLLLAAAAAOOOOOWWWW!” 

Sunday morning I was making TOAST.  Not over an open flame.  IN THE TOASTER!   Matt walked in the kitchen and “BLLLEEEEEEEPPPPP!”  Since I hadn’t yet had enough coffee and apparently I’m still in denial about the power of The Alarm, I yelled “Why did you set that off?”  Poor Matt looked at me like I just grew another nose.  “I didn’t.  I walked in and it went off.”

So now, Mr Alarm thinks body heat plus one small appliance equals grave danger.

Enough is enough.  My ears hurt and my heart can’t take much more.  I really need to have a sit down with my Protector On The Wall and let him know the difference between smoke and steam. 

Because as long as Matt is around, and thankfully he’s not going anywhere for a long long time, I’ll be in my little nook cookin’ away.

Last Monday was Matt’s birthday and since this was the first birthday we had together, I wanted to make it extra special.  I couldn’t just get a boring store bought cake.  Oh no.  I had to show off my Mad Baking Skills, and let this guy fully appreciate just how lucky he is to have found moi. 

Because I am a true giver at heart, I couldn’t keep this creation a secret.  Therefore I give you to a step by step recipe for how to make The Best Birthday Cake ever!  No need for thanks.  If you would like a printed copy, feel free to email me directly.

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Step 1) Prepare your cake according to your late grandmother’s super secret hand written recipe card the box directions.  Make sure to start this project at the very last minute.  Even though you have all weekend, wait until 9pm on Sunday night.

Step 2) When the two rounds are done baking, take them out of the oven and curse loudly when you realize that you have to wait for the cakes to cool COMPLETELY before you can begin frosting.

Step 3) Pace around the kitchen willing your still very warm cake to cool.

Step 4) Think seriously about putting the cake in the freezer for a few minutes.

Step 5) Get a grip and go play Farmville on Facebook.

Step 6) After an hour march back into the kitchen and say out loud, “Ah screw it, this cake is totally cool.”

Step 7) Take the first round out of the cake pan.  While putting it on the cake plate try to ignore the fact that one side defects from the rest of the cake and falls off.  Say something to the effect of “Oh my.  Hmmm, umm…” but reassure yourself you can “totally glue” it back with frosting.

Step”8″) Begin frosting layer one.  Similiar to Step 7, ignore the fact that the moment you even come close to the “hurt” spot, it begins to crumble even more.  Continue to tell yourself MORE frosting, when the other layer is added, will help.

Step 9) As if holding a bomb, C-A-R-E-F-U-L-L-Y put the top layer on.

Step 10) Frost both layers of the cake in one seamless motion, blending the two cakes together in a beautiful swirl form.

Beautiful!  It worked!

Step 11) Turn the cake around.

Oh. Dear.

Step 12) Add some snazzy sprinkles to the top of the cake in order to distract from the striking resemblance of the Grand Canyon on the other side.

Beautiful!  It worked!

Step 13) Turn the cake around.

Awkward.

Step 14) Realize it is now 11pm and there is nothing you can do at this late hour except for create diversion from the problem.

Step 15) Diversion created!

Step 16) Serve the cake the next day with a big smile, a rousing rendition of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and freakishly tall candles that when combined with the smart looking sign will dupe the receiver into thinking “You shouldn’t have.  No really.  You should not have.”

All rights reserved by Becky Crocker. 

Our weekend up north was a great finale to a great summer. Even though we were spending two nights in the murder capital of Wisconsin and quite possibly all of the Midwest, we had a blast.

Remember that light and fun family movie, Silence of the Lambs? Did ya ever know it was based off a real character, Ed Gein? A nice little gentleman who decorated his Plainfield, WI home with furniture made of human skin and bones? Yeah, Plainfield is oh, a mere 30 miles from this cabin. So while Matt and I were taking a walk on Sunday morning and a siren went off, we knew it couldn’t be just a random tornado drill. No sir, that’s the siren they use to let you know a murderer is on the loose. Therefore, we hightailed it back to the cottage least we be made into a couch and love seat.

Can I tell you about the fishing?  There was much fishing happening. SO MUCH FISHING! Even though words can’t truly describe how much this Princess hates to fish, I hung out in the paddle boat until I had one too many casts almost hit me in the head. After I saw a hook with a big nasty night crawler pass by my eyes for a third time I finally said as calmly as possible, “Excuse me, could you please get me to shore. Like, NOW!”

Both nights we had wonderful bonfires. And both nights, all the boys showed their true pyro tendencies. In fact before fire pit #2 Matt suggested we get the boys REAL sparklers instead of their “red-neck-sticks-on-fire” sparklers. But eh, when in Rome…  Luckily no one was burned. Or rather no human was burned. Sadly I can’t say the same for those poor innocent marshmallows.   Those boys were a marshmallow’s Ed Gein.

Since Ben found his inner fisherman, he decided to have one last fishing expedition on Monday morning.  Did I mention the only person, the entire weekend, to actually catch a FISH and not a WEED was Matt, when amazingly enough he didn’t have a gaggle of children around him yelling, “CAN YOU PLEASE PASS THE WORMS!” and “MY LINE IS TANGLED AGAIN!” and “WHERE ARE ALL THE FISH?!?!?”

Luckily Matt and I were standing right off the dock as my very light 9 year old made such a powerful cast out that it literally propelled him into the lake. Right off the front of the dock. Matt and I were busy gazing into each others eyes talking about current events when we heard a “KERPLASH!!” and both of us flew onto the dock where Ben was just coming up from the gunky lagoon while choking out a,  “HELP ME! HELP ME!”  Matt being the hero, and thankfully freakishly strong guy that he is, pulled Ben straight up on the dock. Where his mother tried incredibly hard to not hug her freaked-out-caked-with-lake-muck boy. Hey, I held his hand! And said very calming words as I took him straight to the shower.
The mildly humorous thing about this is… um the water where he fell in, is really shallow.  In fact in his “I’m Drowning!” hysteria, Ben forgot that he and Michael were WALKING around that area the day before.  Regardless, that kid sure knows how to end the trip with a SPLASH! Get it? GET IT? I’m here all week folks.

It was such a fun weekend that we are thinking about making this an annual thing.  Right Lisa?  Lisa?  LISA?!

Wordless Laughing So Hard Trying To Get A Good Picture of Us Wednesday