Self-Involved Much?

The phone rings this evening and it's my sister. "Hi, what are you doing?" she asks. 

"Cooking dinner."

(There is minor commontion in the background on her end.) "Are you okay?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just a simple sweet potato hash." 

She bursts out laughing. "Not you. Cole (her 3-year-old) was choking and I was making sure he was okay."

Okay. No way around it, that's embarrassing. And of course, the sister can't let it go. "Are you having trouble stirring? Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Shut up."

"Sometimes chopping can be hard. It's important that you know you're not alone." 

So much for sisterly love. As for me, I'm never answering the phone again.

Welcome Mom to The Blog

Astute readers may have noticed from the recent Road Trip From Hell post that my mom is now living in North Carolina (2.7 miles from our house, but who's counting?). As such, readers can expect to see an increased number of posts featuring the "Mom" character and, possibly, an increase in posts filed under the "rants" category. 

It's been smooth sailing for the 6 days she's been here. Well, with minor bumps. Yesterday, for example, I came home with chicken breasts. Earth Fare was having a sale, buy one pound get one pound free, and Blair likes chicken so I figured, why not? 

Problem: I have no idea how to cook chicken whose main ingredient isn't "soy." Mom was over, so I asked her. "How do I cook this chicken?"

Problem: My mom hates to cook and probably hasn't turned an oven on in five years and has blocked out any knowledge she used to have of how an oven, or what goes in it, works. 

"I think you put it in the oven at something like 325 or 350 for thirty to forty minutes," she said. 

"Well which is it?" I asked "325 or 350?"

"I don't remember. Where are your cookbooks?"

"I only own vegetarian cookbooks. There's nothing in there on how to cook meat." 

"Well don't you just have an old Betty Crocker cookbook or something? It would be in there."

"Why would I have Betty Crocker? Betty Crocker cooks meat." 

"You don't have just a general cookbook?"

"What part of vegetarian are you not grasping here?"

Thank heavens for the Internet. (350 degrees for forty minutes to an hour for chicken breasts, if you're interested.) 

I think I better start exercising a little more patience around Mom. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'm going to wind up with a Betty Crocker cookbook in my stocking, come Christmas. 

Cheers,

Dena

Nesting

The weather turned wet and chilly today and my nesting instinct kicked in. Soups. Casseroles. Log fires. Cinnamon sticks. Thick socks. Apple cider. Sweatshirts. Welcome, FALL!

Fall is my favorite season. Something in the air just perks me right up. November is my January. I get a burst of enthusiasm and dive into new projects, vow to break old, unhealthy habits and uphold new healthy ones, set personal and professional goals and clean out my closets. 

I haven't looked at the extended forecast because I can't bear the idea of going back to melting temperatures, sticky skin and sweat-stained clothes. I want brisk breezes, crunchy leaves and colorful scarves. 

I made a butternut squash lasagna on Sunday, the day the cold(er) temps set in. Squash roasting in my oven at a 400 degree temperature while I sipped coffee and did Sudoku with Blair made me very happy. 

Soon enough I'll be griping about cold feet, drafty hallways and having to bundle up for a run. But for now, the change in temperature is a glorious reprieve. Today was a gray day with heavy rains and I enjoyed every minute of it. 

FALL! FALL! FALL! We're so happy you're here. Please stay awhile.

Cheers,

Dena