Baking Adventures

Yesterday, I attempted my first King Cake.  If you don't know what that is, you can read about it here.  Some years, our friends from Baton Rouge would send us one, and we always enjoyed the tradition.  This year, I actually found one at the Giant.  It was ok, albeit slightly stale, but it lacked the highly coveted baby!  The children, of course, were distraught.  Besides, I knew that any King Cake I made would be a sight better than a crappy Giant cake.

Well, I must say that it turned out really well.  It smelled like heaven in my house, while it baked.  The taste is very comparable to Entenmann's cream cheese coffee cake, if you've ever had that.  It didn't occur to me until after I'd made the entire thing, that it had no cinnamon in it at all...unlike the other King Cakes I've eaten.  No matter, it was de-lish, and the kids were thrilled.  It required a special trip to the KKK.  That would be the area's finest cake/confectionary store, the Kake Kraft Korner.  We had to buy sugar in purple, green, and gold, and of course, the baby.  But, since I have more than one baby, I had to buy five plastic babies.  That alleviates the lamenting over not finding a baby in his or her slice.

So, today is hangover day in New Orleans.  While I don't really feel the need to be part of the Bourbon Street madness again, I would like to have participated in some of the festivities.  I love going to the parades, and would kill to get into one of the balls.  Not to mention the food...mmm.  Speaking of, I also made red beans & rice last week.  That, too, was quite tasty.  I followed Emeril's recipe almost exactly...without my normal elaborate tweaking.  What I didn't stop to consider were the gastric consequences of said glorious meal.  I mean, the gastric consequences of my dear husband.  I had the sense to eat small portions of the stuff, followed quickly by Gas-X.  He, on the other hand, porked out and proceeded to be quite musical (and hideously putrid) all evening.  For days.  Next time I decide to make it, I think I won't tell him.

I certainly have more to write, but my tired brain won't allow it, and my bed is calling me.  I hope you all are well this week.

Archives-Happy Independence Day 7/5/2007

July 5, 2007

Ok, so I'm a day late. Yesterday G wasn't into the family thing--nothing stands in the way of volleyball, you know--so I went to my mom's with Ang. His volleyball people had a cookout at Hillsmere beach, which would be nice if I wouldn't be "alone" there. He seemed kind of offended that I didn't want to go...but he would have ignored the lot of us, except for the five minutes every couple hours that it would take him to inhale a hot dog. So, what difference would it make if I was there or not? It would have been me, hanging with the kids all day with no help and not much fun of my own. So...Mom's sounded like more fun. Her pool was frigid, so we sat around drinking mojitos while the kids jumped in and out of the baby pool a thousand times. Mom made burgers, and Ang made teriyaki and jerk (not together) chicken. I love me some jerk chicken. The tomatoes and corn and chipotle pasta salad were so good, too. And then the rain came, so we put on Cars and the kids assumed the position in front of the tv. Collin passed out and missed dinner entirely. G came along eventually, and we hemmed and hawed about going to see fireworks. It wasn't exactly an ideal night for viewing them, what with the storms and muggy-buggy dampness. At the last minute, we decided to go to our favorite viewing spot, which is the former Annapolis Overlook (now the WWII Memorial). Well, apparently the rain wasn't keeping anyone away, because we had to park way down the road and walk down the hill to see the fireworks, which had already started. We probably walked for 10 minutes (ok, maybe five to seven, but it sure felt like it). I was wearing uncomfortable sandals, I had to pee, and I was carrying the sleeping 27lb Booah, and G kept asking me why I couldn't walk any faster. SIGH. I'm old and fat, and aerobically challenged, that's why. Anyway, we got there and saw about 3 minutes of fireworks before the grande finale, and that was it...then had to trek back up the hill. I promised the kids a better fireworks experience next year, although they didn't seem too disappointed.
This weekend, my mom will have her annual 4th of July party, so thanks to my redneck relatives, there will be another fireworks display. They go all out. There will also be glow sticks, sparklers, and poppers. I miss childhood, I so used to look forward to those things every year. Sunday we are doing the zoo, with G's place of employment. That should be fun. I wish they'd actually close the zoo to the public, so as to limit other visitors. It would be nice to avoid the crowds, since it's supposed to be ungodly hot. I remember one trip to New Orleans, we wanted to visit the Audubon zoo with our friends...we get there, it was 100 degrees with 100% humidity (as it usually is in New Orleans), and the frickin' zoo was closed. It was Bank of America day or something-some big company was having their employee even there. We kept saying, How can you close the zoo?! Well, I wish they would.
I took the kids bowling on Tuesday. That was fun, except when it was my turn, I would get up to the foul line, and the pin resetter thing would come down and sweep the pins...I'd turn around, and there was the baby, pushing the button over and over again...looking at me with that little impish smirk on his face. That, and it took ten whole minutes for the baby's ball to reach the pins, if it ever did. A couple of times we just gave up and I rolled another ball down to push the first one.
Time to go straighten the living room, after the little tornados that are my children! I hope you all had a nice 4th.

Archives-Dr. Mom 6/8/2007

June 8, 2007

I'm feeling the strains of motherhood/wifehood lately. I feel like I'm being pulled in about 19 different directions, and I'm, well, overextended. And tired, irritated, bored, and lonely. One more week left of school, and I'll have my daughter all day long, too. On her own, she is great. On his own, the middle boy is great. Put them together, and strife is bound to ensue. Add the little man, who's lately fond of hitting, pushing, biting, and spitting, and everyone's having a great time.
Speaking of the little man, he's sick. It started with a cold, which he had for about a week, then spiked a fever. In my professional mom experience, that means something is now infected with bacteria...ears, lungs, throat. Only, none of those things is "showing anything yet", as the doctor put it. That means, no medicine. That means, miserable baby. I'm supposed to give him ibuprofen and Tylenol, around the clock (has to be both, or the fever stays up) until Saturday, when being seen by the doctor is warranted again. Now, if he really has no infection come tomorrow morning, I will insert my foot into my mouth and commence chewing, but I'll also be completely surprised. My dearest G will have to take him to the dr, since I'll be at work...and pay another $15 copay...only to be told what I'm sure is true (something is infected). And then the doctor will finally give us the Pink Stuff. Until then, we have to deal with hours of screaming, like last night (*SIGH*). This is when I wish I lived in Mexico, so I could just go to the pharmacy and buy the Pink Stuff my own self.
We went to see a favorite New Orleans band, the Iguanas, the other night. They were really good, as always, but we were sad to see that the one sax player/singer Derek Huston is gone from the band. What makes it worse, he's the one who has recognized us each time we have seen them. He is replaced by a young kid with lots of hair who plays a mean trumpet...but he's no Derek. In a couple of weeks, we will go see Cowboy Mouth. I'm hoping all those guys are still the same, because they put on a great show. I guess all the NOLA bands must all be on tour now...it IS getting hot down there, after all. Not as hot as here, today, though...97 degrees, what the heck is that? And me with my air conditioner in my car barely functioning. I'm not kidding, I can't tell whether the air it's putting out is any bit cool, or just slightly less hot than the stifling inferno of the rest of the car. A minivan is looking better and better. Guess I'd better go take my walk now, before I melt in the afternoon sun.