Whoops!

Sorry gang, it's been a madhouse around here. It's nearing the end of the year at the office, which means that the bookkeeping is getting atrocious (and my adding machine is about to be kicked against the wall repeatedly), tensions are running high, and in the middle of all this I'm supposed to be panicking about Christmas shopping as well as what in the world I'm supposed to take to my mother's house for Thanksgiving.

--------------------

I'm fairly certain my Thanksgiving contribution will be mashed potatoes. Again. Because nobody else is fool enough to volunteer for that job, as these aren't just any mashed potatoes, but a certain kind known as "refrigerator mashed potatoes" which are so-named not because they're served cold (they're not -- they're heated) but because they can be stored in the fridge for a number of days prior to the actual event for which they've been prepared.

I think it's something to do with the cream cheese, sour cream, and butter in them, but I wouldn't put money on it. Five pounds of potatoes to boil then smash into an unrecognizable pulp with the potato ricer prior to mixing in all the other goodies. Oish. It's a wonder I can lift my arms the next day, but they're good. Worth it.

I'll post the recipe sometime. It's around... uhm... somewhere. I'm quite sure of it.

(Note to self: call Mom and get the recipe AGAIN... just like every other year)

------------------

In other news, the Chantix and I have reached an uneasy truce wherein I eat before taking it so it doesn't make me want to throw up, and in return it sucks all the joy out of smoking for me.

Yes, kids, I'm nicotine-free. Grudgingly, and with much whining, but I'm there.

Why quit when I'm whiny about it? Well, to be quite honest, I never will NOT be whiny about giving up my vices. I'll do it, but I will bitch and moan, dammit.

I love my Diet Coke and y'all should have heard me when I was pregnant with the boys. My midwife with the younger child especially was concerned about all the chemicals in Diet Coke. She'd have preferred I drink an entire pot of coffee twice a day than suck down even one of my wonderful, refreshing, chemically-altered-beyond-all-recognition carbonated beverages.

Problem is, a sure sign of gestation for me is that I develop an incredible loathing for coffee. The smell of it in bean form, ground form, or brewing is still fine (stuff's like potpourri for me, seriously). But the taste of it? Oh man, just kill me now. Simply Does. Not. Work. Not when I'm pregnant, anyway.

Needless to say, for a few months there? Amanda equaled Whiny.

And now that I'm done reproducing they will have to pry my Diet Coke out of my cold, dead fingers before I give it up. I don't require much in life, but I would like to hang on to at least one little vice. Just one.

But anyway, why quit smoking? Because I'm kind of fond of this whole living thing, and smoking has a bad habit of shortening that experience. Also, it interferes with my breathing hobby. And it's a craptastic example for the kids (well, that and they've been lecturing me about it mercilessly).

The yellow stains have almost faded completely from my fingers. Awesome.

----------------------

So anyway, that's what I've been up to for the past almost-two-weeks. That and doing the Halloween stuff with the boys. The elder was Anakin Skywalker and the younger was a knight. He looked alot like a gladiator, but believe me, that child was a KNIGHT.

Just ask him.

Peas

I've mentioned before how I feel about peas.

To make a very long story very short, peas = bad.

So since my husband knows this, and since my one concession to peas in our home is that I gulp them down whole when he fixes them with dinner, I expect him not to put peas in the freaking fried rice.

So of course, tonight, for dinner?

Peas.

In my freaking fried rice. Which cannot be swallowed whole, thankyouverymuch.

I picked them all out and gave them to my younger son.

"Here sweetie, I saved some peas for you."

"Oh sank you Mommy!"

Whew.

-------------------------

In Chantix news, yesterday was "high" day with the new higher dosage. Today has been "low" day with it. I took my second pill of the day about an hour ago, and am just now back to moving with anything resembling speed. I've spent much of the day on the couch, and even took a nap.

I also did laundry and hosed off two small boys, so I haven't been a total slug.

But dang, I hope I adapt to this newer dosage quickly. I work full time and have two-to-three children (depending on how old my husband is acting at the time -- love you, sweetie!). I don't need to be drugged into exhaustion. I can get that way quite adequately without chemical assistance.

Grocery List

This conversation took place after several hours worth of disjointed "We really should get [insert item here]" notices by each of us, re: the grocery store.

Himself: We need eggs, too.

Me: Okay, when we stop by the grocery store on the way home from lunch tomorrow, you and I can both try to remember everything we need.

Himself: Somebody should write it all down.

Me: Yes, somebody should.

Himself: :looking pointedly in my direction:

Me: :looking pointedly at Himself: So, you're going to write it down, right?

Himself: Me?

Me: Yes, you.

Himself: Huh. I'm supposed to write it all down. Alrightie then.

(Somehow I suspect no one will write anything down, and we'll end up at the grocery store rattling our brains in the hopes that a relevant memory will somehow make its way down the chute...)

Food

I'm having a major comfort food urge today, go figure. While contemplating such loverly foods as macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese and tomato soup, and other stuff like that, I remembered a dish I made about a month ago for my family.

Before I married my husband, my culinary abilities were limited to variations of stir-fry, boiling pasta and dumping Newman's Own sauce over it, breakfast foods, and one chicken dish wherein I panfried chicken breasts in Italian dressing. With the exception of the second item, all the things I knew how to cook took a bit of time, which as a single childless woman wasn't an issue.

Now, though? Time? Hah! There ain't much of that commodity present in Casa Justice, let me tell you. I am blessed in that my husband currently does most of the cooking, saintly man that he is. Also, Kitchen Nazi that he is. I've learned over time that drafting him as a vegetable chopper is pointless, as I am swiftly relegated to knife duties while Himself takes over the composition of whatever dish I opt to cook.

And God help me if it's lasagna. More on that another post.

Anyway, even HRH gets tired of cooking, or is otherwise tied up at times, so I do end up having to feed the family on occasion. At this point in my life I can adequately roast a chicken, do an awesome pot roast in the pressure cooker, and am fairly competent in general with cooking. However, I like to cut corners wherever I can, and I do that as often as possible. What follows is a dish I made one day when I wanted to go a little further than my standard "Desperation Pasta" dish, but was still determined as hell to use pasta. Because I like pasta, dammit.

So... to the store I went. I had noticed that I already had a sundried tomato Alfredo sauce that had been gathering dust in my cabinet. From there, I also purchased a jar of sliced mushrooms, a pack of Louis Rich Italian Style chicken breast pieces, a pack of prosciutto ham (and if I spelled that incorrectly, please forgive), an onion, fresh basil, and garlic. Two other items I used which were already in my possession were rotini pasta and a Parmesan/Romano shredded cheese blend.

I first chopped the onion and browned it and two cloves of garlic in a skillet-like pan. While trying to ignore the hot stove, I chopped the prosciutto which I then added to the skillet. Once that was well-browned, I added the sundried tomato Alfredo (whole jar) and the happily pre-cooked chicken. As I allowed the combination to simmer, I started boiling the rotini pasta and also chopped the basil (approx 1/4 cup worth).

With five minutes left on the pasta boil, I added the drained sliced mushrooms and chopped basil to the skillet and continued to stir. Once the pasta was finished, I drained it, then put it into a bowl. Next, I poured the contents of the skillet over the pasta, and added 1/4 cup of the grated Parm/Romano cheese blend, and mixed well.

It went over well that night with both the husband and the offspring. I thought it was pretty tasty and I refrigerated the remainder.

The next night, oh wow. Himself and I divided the leftovers for dinner, and I must say this dish was INCREDIBLE after it had time to meld its flavors during the refrigeration period.

Would I make this "throw-together" again? Heck yeah. But I'd definitely make it a day ahead and let it sit for a night, then reheat.