Somebody's checkin' in!

Hannah had a sleepover birthday party yesterday, and I had forgotten what little-girl sleepovers were like. Hannah estimates it was *2 AM* before they went to bed. That is after I went down after 1 AM and told them no more tv and lights out. When one of the moms came this morning for the pick-up, she brought me roses from her garden for my bravery in being the first parent to host a sleepover party for Hannah's same-aged cohort. Sweet.

I can't say that the sleepover helped my day-long headache of yesterday, but at least it was gone when I got up this morning. The girls got up at 8! Crazy! Hannah and I have been acting like pot-heads all afternoon with the lack and poor quality of sleep--everything has been 10 times funnier than it should be. We are going to bed EARLY tonight!

John left at 10 AM to pedal his butt down (up?) the Neckar. At 4 PM, the thunderstorm that was predicted hit us here at the house, and it's still raining over an hour later. We'll see if he made it as far as the hostel this afternoon. If not, he may be on the train headed home already today instead of tomorrow afternoon.

I don't like driving in the rain or when it is dim out, but I may be forced by the storm to do both. A family's got to eat. Hopefully I won't whack into anything this time. Wish me luck!

House of Lazy, Yo

So remember when I had the entire month of March off, and somehow I didn’t get around to doing anything on my to-do list—such as writing a 20-page paper, doing my taxes, or finishing any stories? Here are the fruits of my dicking around.







Yes, it is from a kit (which I got for a zillion percent off after Xmas while in Texas), but since my homemade baked gingerbread houses have been uniformly a disaster, I thought something more permanent might be in order.

I also decorated Easter eggs using directions from a 70s-era craft book (groovy!).



Hannah is having a sleepover birthday party this evening. She wanted a brownie cake, so I baked the brownies and let her do the decorating.



And in other news, the coriander seeds *did* grow into cilantro, or a weed that tastes exactly like cilantro, so John is in seventh heaven. We will be attempting some pico de gallo at the first possible opportunity.



And I guess I didn’t need to worry about my cherry tomato plant. Now if it will just put out tomatoes, all will be right with the world.

The Hannah Beneath My Wings

Hannah was watching The Jerk yesterday while John and I were busy, and when it was over, she said that it would have been funny if Navin's first girlfriend (the biker) had shown up at the end and run over him with her motorcycle. I didn't concur. Today, she decided that on review, maybe it wasn't so funny after all.

Then on the bus today, she told me about her idea for a commercial for a sports bra. Just as the mom is about to go for a jog, the sitter calls and cancels on her.
Me: "So the mom stuffs the baby in the sports bra?"
H: "Exactly! That shows how stretchy it is!"
She's going to hit it big with one of her weird ideas one of these days.

Hannah to the nth

We had a pack of cards out that Hannah was playing with, and she says the King of Hearts is the one giving himself brain surgery with his sword to avoid paying the 2 pounds for regular surgery.

Hannah has developed into quite the Chatty Cathy. She's always been bad about interrupting--for the the last 10 years, John and I have only been able to have a normal conversation while she is asleep or gone at school or a friend's house--but recently she has started talking *non-stop*. I told John that now I know what it must have felt like to be my mother when I was a child, and that I was surprised she didn't go *mad*.

We bought UNO when we were doing Hannah's birthday shopping, and Hannah cracks us up when she says, "Thank God!" every. single. time she gets a +2 card. No one else can be that appreciative of extra cards in a game where the winner is the person who gets rid of all of her cards first.

Today at the shopping center where we went to do our grocery shopping, we took an ice cream break. While we were waiting for Hannah to finish snarfing down her bee-shaped ice cream, I pulled out my shopping list to finish it up. "What in God's name is that?!" she demanded. "A grocery list. And stop saying that." *Everything* is "What in God's name...?" I don't particularly care about the blasphemy, but the repetition is starting to get on my nerves.

Star Wars Redux

I swear, even when I click on a link totally unsuspecting, or go looking for something totally unrelated (*cough*online IQ test *cough*, thanks WTG), I will come across Star Wars stuff. I'm doomed, I tell you, doooooomed!

And I'm apparently R2D2.


You're R2-D2
You're spunky, resourceful, and just a little deviant. It should come as no surprise that your Star Wars type is Artoo-Deetoo. Just like the diminutive droid who bailed out Luke and the gang more than a few times, you have tons of tools and tricks at your disposal. When in a bind, you are usually the first one who thinks of the solution (even if your zeal for adventure got you into trouble in the first place).You are a loyal friend who people can confide in. They know that you'll guard their secrets as if they were the plans to the Death Star itself. What some might call stubborn, you call driven. No amount of obstacles will get between you and your goal.

The Classic Star Wars Test
Brought to you by Tickle

Knee-Deep in Rodents

Hannah's BFF got a rabbit at the same time as she got Hannah's birthday mice. Over the weekend, we were supposed to attend a christening for the rabbit on Saturday, then the BFF would come to our house to officiate at the christening for the mice on Sunday. Well, Hannah spent the night with the BFF on Friday, and by 10 am on Saturday, they were sick to death of each other. We kind of figured the christening party was off, but the mom of the BFF called to see if we were still coming. Hannah came around to the idea, after we had eaten, of course, but we went to the BFF'S and had dinner anyway.

We had a nice time hanging out, although they insist on pouring drinks, even though I don't drink. John helpfully suggested that I like mixed drinks (like twice when I was in college, hello!), so they brought out some sweet schnapps. The glasses were totally cool. I wish I could find a picture to show you. They were egg-shaped, round-bottomed, and sat at a tilt, but they weren't that easy to tip over. I'll keep looking for a picture.

This crazy (but lovely) family finally got shot of us around 10 pm, then planned to pack and drive to Italy. *That night.* Due to a last-minute misplacing of some extra keys, I ended up being in charge of watering plants as well as feeding bunnies while they are gone, but that is no big deal. They do favors for us all the time.

But since they took off for Italy, taking the planned officiant with them, our poor mice have not had their official christening. I think Hannah may have done something with the drinking water, but she didn't make a big production of it like the BFF, who made a flower-bedecked altar and "holy water" laced with oil in the back yard. I didn't think flicking the oil-laden water on the bunny during the ceremony was a good idea, in case it got in her eyes, but no one asked me.

I like the mice more than I thought I would. They are very cute! Hannah loves them, except at night. I kind of thought they might be active at night, but the BFF insisted NO when she brought them over. Ha ha, wrong kid. We've started running the fan in Hannah's room at night for white noise. It is a good thing she is so warm natured.

Mouse 1 and Mouse 2--or Dickerchen and Pipsqueak--or Vanessa and Isabelle


[Edited to add: I went through that "new baby at home" stage with the mice. I was checking on them every 30 minutes for the first couple of days because I was worried that we had overlooked some important part of their diet or care, and that they would kick the bucket on us. I hate the "new baby at home stage", but now that they seem to have settled in, I'm not compelled to lift all the mouse furniture first thing in the morning to check for tiny corpses.]

Ack! More Star Wars!

I logged out of my yahoo mail to find this link waiting for me: "Star Wars" 30th anniversary party draws thousands. It's a conspiracy! (Of what and by whom, I do not know.)

Hannah and Star Wars, Tasting Great Together

On her birthday, Hannah claimed it was the best birthday of her life, even though she didn’t have a party that day, just pizza and a frozen cake at home with her old mom and dad. And she even had a fitness test at school, but since it lasted the whole day, she didn’t have religion, so the good balanced out the bad. We let her open her presents before school, but she was up at 5:50(!) to start the festivities. *groan* At least she acted suitably appreciative of everything.

But the icing on the cake was 2 cute little girl-mice from her best friend. The first day, she named them Dickerchen (‘Fattykins’) and Pipsqueak. I thought they were adorable names, but she had changed her mind by day 2 and renamed them Vanessa and Isabelle. I don’t know which is supposed to be which, so I still use the original names. (There aren't any photos yet, because I don't want to traumatize them until they are resigned to being stuck here.) There is a christening planned for Sunday (with Hannah’s BFF officiating), so they’ll get their permanent names then. (John suggested that the girls replace the Bible in the ceremony with some of the sacred words of Asatru, but they didn’t go for it.)

We are still trying to think up a party plan; Hannah wanted to take 2 friends to Legoland, but it would cost us 135 euros just to walk in the gate, not to mention the gas (and about 6 hours total in the car), lunch, etc. I just about choked when I read the price list on the Legoland web site. So we’ll do something smaller and closer to home eventually.

I’m not planning on turning this into a gardening blog, but I do have to say how much I am enjoying the plants we got last weekend. I think all the seed varieties I planted are starting to sprout, so going around and checking on them and watering and weeding are giving me an outlet for my habitual need to be doing something. It’s very relaxing. I’m looking forward to having a house with a proper garden someday, if only for the chance to compost. mmmm... rotting organic material... In the meanwhile, I am spending lots of time gazing at my indoor and balcony plants.

It seems like every time I’ve turned around in the last few weeks, Star Wars this and that has been flooding into my email, etc. First I was urged to vote (via a blog, I think) for a Star Wars stamp to get its own single-stamp sheet. I voted for Princess Leia hiding the secret plans for the Death Star in R2D2, but apparently not enough people agree. Yoda and Darth Vader were neck and neck going into the final round. Then it was the Yoda lightsaber listed in the ThinkGeek newsletter. Then there was the bit on msnbc about George Lucas and Mark Hamill working together on "Robot Chicken: Star Wars", an animated spoof directed by Seth Green. *squee* (I *heart* Seth Green.) Too bad I won't be anywhere I can get the Cartoon Network when the show airs in June. Then there was another ThinkGeek newsletter advertising a mini RC R2D2 with a *light saber* remote control. Must... not... use... credit card... And finally, in a newsletter from mediabistro (I get a little of everything in my inbox), I found a link to a Wall Street Journal article on George Lucas posting clips from the 6 Star Wars movies on the Internet for free use (in making mash-ups, etc.). I don’t know how all these Star Wars-themed messages keep making their way to me without me lifting a finger (except to click a link), but it is kind of freaking me out, something I never thought I would say about anything Star Wars related (except Jar Jar Binks, heh).

Now Hannah is out of school for 2 weeks, the 7 Dwarfs have mercy on us.

The Good, the Bad, and the Weird

I went out today and managed to buy all of Hannah’s birthday presents in one fell swoop. I think this is getting to be a habit. I hope Hannah likes everything.

I got home and John was eating a leftover hamburger and fries. And to rub salt into the wound of my burger-less lunch, I opened our last jar of grape jelly to find *mold*. Apparently a hole got poked in the metal lid, probably in transport at xmas, so the jelly has had 4 months to go off. *sniff*

Hannah wants to know why Spiderman doesn’t eat flies. Don’t we all. She was also put out that I accidentally washed a caterpillar down the drain that mysteriously appeared in the sink *while* I was using it. She wanted to cut it into pieces and feed them to the Venus flytrap. We keep telling her that the flytrap will feed itself and that she doesn’t need to catch flies for it.

Ok, I realize that marketing students probably have “sex sells” tattooed on the inside of their eyelids during the first week of their freshman year, but I don’t really see how sex can help you sell plants. I must be wrong, though, because according to the tag (in 6 different languages) on the Celosia Caracas we bought, “If you place this sexy indoor/outdoor plant in a well-lit, protected location...” it puts out (in the form of blooming). Does it look especially sexy to you?

Plants R Us

So yesterday was a busy running around day for us. We took Hannah to Toys R Us to spend some of her birthday loot; she got some makeup and some Barbie stuff, so as far as she’s concerned, it was a success. Then we ate at Burger King. *shudder* I didn’t get sick afterward this time, but that’s about the best that can be said of the experience. It’s on the do-not-visit list. Then we went to the garden center and got some plants for our window boxes. Now our balconies are a veritable garden of delights.


John moved his biggest plumbegos out of the sunroom. The south side of the roof is transparent plexiglas, so we have made a little green corner with the plumbego, my onion sprouts (which I think are trying to bloom), my citrus plants, and John’s walnut trees.


The window boxes are not chock-full of flowers, but the effect is still nice, I think. John and Hannah like the symmetry.


We didn’t forget the sunroom, though. What’s an indoor garden without a Venus flytrap, right?


The sunniest spot is our “nursery.” In the front row, we have our fingers crossed that chiles will be coming up. In the back row, I have planted coriander, which may or may not be cilantro—we couldn’t remember while we were at the garden center.


If this cherry tomato plant survives, it will be a miracle, but at least it is in good company with the ivy.


Then after stuffing all the plants into boxes and toting them up and down stairs, I still had time for a quick grocery trip. On the way out of my parking space, I scraped the neighbor’s bumper. I have felt like puking ever since. I have spent most of today mindlessly spring cleaning and wishing the whole insurance-repair-having to talk to the neighbor-thing were already all done. I may just give up driving. I don’t have good depth perception, and everything is so narrow here, it is just a matter of time before I scrape a rearview mirror off, or worse. My bus ticket is already paid for, so maybe I will embrace the pedestrian lifestyle again.

Throw Away Your TV

With Hannah, there is really no need for TV to be entertained around here. This morning John and I were talking about Jerry Falwell dying, and I mentioned that I didn't appreciate religiously oriented people claiming that non-religious people didn't have morals. John asked what morals I had. Well, I don't think you should kill people. Hannah chimed in, you shouldn't stick forks in people's eyes. Well, exactly! That's what I'm talking about!

Then this afternoon, Hannah made a Lego car (for a cat to drive). She included a little rooftop terrace, where her Barbie in Swan Lake skunk Kelly girl was perched with a bowl. I was telling Hannah that she really shouldn't make it easier for the skunky girl to get around and stink up the place, and she pointed out, "she’s extra eating rose petals so that her farts won’t smell so bad." So now you know.

Birthday Girl

Hannah’s birthday is in a week. FU-UCK! We haven’t bought anything for her yet. We haven’t made any plans for a party. *starting to panic* Hannah has had a wide range of party ideas, though:

• toting her friends to an amusement park an hour away (no, because we could only fit 2 other kids in our car)


• taking her friends to see Pirates of the Caribbean (has possibilities, but we did a movie bday last year)


• camping in a tent

John might go for #3, but I see several hurdles—we don’t have a tent, we wouldn’t know how to set one up if we did, and it has been raining for almost 2 weeks, so there’s no guarantee of sunny or at least dry weather.

Hannah helpfully went to the Barbie website and made a wishlist that looks like a Toys R Us ad. There’s no way I’m going to get her Barbie shampoo or a real vacuum cleaner (in pink). If she wants to vacuum, I can certainly hook her up with our Hoover (not pink).

I asked her if she thought 10 would be much different from 9. “Well, there’s puberty.” Yes, well, I had failed to take that into consideration. 10 will probably be *way* different from 9. At school, they are doing a unit on puberty in social studies. I’ve been pleased that Hannah brings up stuff they have talked about in school, or asks me questions based on it. I don’t want to be a squeamish parent, so I make it a point to answer questions as straightforward and *factually* as possible. So far, so good.

Now that the paper is behind me, I can wash the dishes or vacuum or think about anything but the paper and not feel guilty. Good times. Also, more hygienic times. :-)

Snippet

The paper's over. Whew! Gory details on the writing blog.

I was walking Hannah to school one morning, and we spotted some flowers in someone's garden, and that set her off telling me all about Barbie Fairytopia and how the Fairy Enchantress gave Alena (sp?) some wings for saving Fairytopia.
Me: What do you get for just bringing the Fairy Enchantress breakfast in bed? Fairy eyebrows?
Hannah: Maybe you get fairy thanks. And a few bucks.

Nee's Week in Review

I walked into the kitchen, totally unprepared to hear Hannah explaining to her dad that she wished she had put Missy-Cat in a ziploc bag in the freezer when she was a kitten. I think it had to do with cryogenics, but my brain stopped processing information at that point.

I went to my first meeting of the student employees, where we were shown around to all the rooms for which we now have the *keys of power* (add echoing effect here) and told a bit about our duties. I will primarily be proofreading, but I'll also have a few office-y type duties for 1 professor. Sweet! The proofreading gig is totally going to kick ass. Turns out the professor I'm proofing for (not the making-copies prof) is the co-editor of a scholarly journal, and I am now her go-to person for proofreading. Plus anyone else around the department who chooses to make use of my services. I have the first article in my hot little hands, and it is *agony* making myself wait until my paper is turned in (I am blogging the travesty that is my paper on my writing blog). But I told the prof that, and she said no prob. The journal doesn't go to the printer until June.

My two classes are also going well. In the past, I am totally exhausted after expending the mental energy to follow a 1-1/2 hour lecture in German, but this semester I have 2 classes back-to-back, and except for 2 annoying classmates (who were in my teaching class last semester) I would like to stab in the eye with a pencil, everything has been roses and unicorns crapping puppies (thanks to Finslippy aka Alice for the latest addition to my vocabulary).

Back to the paper!

Pam's Potatoes

I want to give John’s side of the family a fair shake with the recipe-sharing, so here is a recipe we call "Pam’s Potatoes", but which could just as well be called "Heart-Attack Potatoes" or "Death by Dairy Potatoes." John’s dad swears he invented this dish and doesn’t see why John’s ex-step-mother should get the credit, but she’s who we learned it from. Dial 9-1 before you start eating them, then 1 again if your heart starts to go.

Pam’s Potatoes
margarine
1 pint whipping cream
sour cream
1 onion, in thin slices
1 lb. chunk of Velveeta, in bits
5 or more potatoes
Boil the potatoes, but not all the way done. Slice the partially boiled potatoes. Pour a little whipping cream in the bottom of a casserole. Put down a layer of potatoes, then some onions, then pats/bits of margarine, sour cream, and Velveeta, and salt and pepper the layer. Continue making layers until you run out of potatoes, and pour the whipping cream over the whole thing. Bake at 350F about 30 minutes or until bubbly and melty.

[ETA: oops! The third ingredient is "sour cream", not "cream cheese". I'm not sure what the recipe originally called for, but John pointed out that we always use sour cream.]

Bad role models

Am I a bad mother for letting Hannah (occasionally) watch Winx?

The whole premise of the show is flimsy and derivative—students at a fairy boarding school fight against evil—and the characters are poorly developed and bizarrely drawn, with ridiculously proportioned bodies and questionable clothing choices. And although these evil-fighters are supposed to have super-magical powers, they never seem to be able to use them for anything more strenuous than magical wardrobe change!, except when it’s the season finale, and then they manage to destroy the most powerful, most evil Thingie on the first try. Of course, up to that point they had spent a lot of time having spats with their boyfriends and each other and fainting at the slightest bit of magical exertion. But the clincher for me was that they finally reached a level in their training where they got magical gizmos to supplement their power—and they were *jewelry* and *purses*. I shit you not. Magical accessories—activate!

And for some reason, if it’s on, I will stop and watch, too. Mostly for the pleasure of MST3King it, I’ll admit, but if Hannah is going to watch something so dumb, I want her to enjoy the benefit of my cynicism and criticism (in the sense of “critical thinking”). I don’t want her thinking that even super-magic fairy princesses are incompetent unless they have their magical outfits and super-magic knight boyfriends backing them up. Because super-magic fairy princesses should totally kick ass.

Shrimp Dip

I am hard at work writing on my paper and planning a shopping trip, so another recipe for you today.

My dad’s sister gave me this recipe way back in the day (7/5/86, to be exact), but my mother has been making it for family occasions for years, and she totally *owns* it. So without further ado...

Shrimp Dip
8 oz. cream cheese
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 c. mayo
1 c. chopped celery
1 c. chopped green onions
2 cans tiny cocktail shrimp

Mix together and serve. My mom scoops out a loaf of Hawaiian bread and puts the dip in there and usually also serves more bread and a cheese ball.

Enjoy!

Short Shrift

Since I am actually working on my paper today--and making real progress!--there is no content to put up here. But recently I had an idea for just such an occasion: I will put up family recipes! Huzzah!

So without further ado, here's my Grammy's recipe for Power Cookies. They have everything but the kitchen sink! I have a note to make half, which is not a bad idea considering the amounts of ingredients used. I do remember that we used to eat the hell out of these when we went to visit, and would hardly make a dent in them.

Power Cookies
2 c. brown sugar
2 c. granulated sugar
3/4 c. soft butter
1 c. shortening
4 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
3 c. all-purpose flour
2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. baking soda
3 c. uncooked oats
2 c. coconut
2 c. raisins
1 c. chocolate chips
1 c. chopped nuts
Cream together the sugars, butter and shortening.
Beat in eggs and vanilla.
Combine the flour, salt, and soda and add to the first mixture.
Add the remaining ingredients and knead into the mixture.
Using heaping teaspoons, place dough on greased baking sheet, 2 inches apart.
Bake at 350F for 8 minutes until browned.

A Tale of Two Explosions

A while back, Hannah was interested in "experiments", which generally meant a big, wet mess to her at the time, so in the furtherance of science, we got her a beginner chemistry set. Well, she just wanted to start mixing things together and sit back and wait for the explosions to start. We nipped that in the bud, and the chemistry set has been put away ever since. Recently she mentioned it, saying wistfully that she'd never got to use it. "Because you wouldn't read the directions," was my unsympathetic reply. Now that I think about it, though, she could just watch me in the kitchen if she wanted to find out how to make a big, explosive mess.

You can buy ultra-pasteurized milk and cream here that doesn't have to be refrigerated until you open it. The cream tends to thicken up in the carton, though, so there are often clumps in it. I had an opened container in the fridge, and rather than let it go to waste, I was making bastard cappucinos by adding it to instant espresso. Except I hit a clump when I was pouring; I squeezed a little, and KA-POW! Whipping cream shower. It could have happened to anyone, right?

But the next explosion... it takes a special brand of Nee to make such a huge mess. We can't buy Ranch dressing ready-made in a bottle here--the horror!--so we mix it up from a jar of powder Lovely MIL sent us. Except we don't eat salad all that often, so the leftover container of dressing tends to migrate to the back of the fridge, where it hides and waits. We were clearing out the fridge pre-shopping trip one weekend, and John pulled out the well-aged dressing. Now, I am sure that I had already asked him about the status of that dressing the week before, and he had declared it to be just *fine*, but then when it was my turn to do the dishes... Coincidence? I think not. Anyhoo, when I went to dump it out, I was accosted by a stench that has only one equal: cheese vomit. *gag* Did I mention that we use a Tupperware cup with a lid, like this one? By the way, the stench of zombified dressing does not come out of Tupperware easily. I started with dish soap and boiling water but quickly reached for the big guns: baking soda and vinegar. It works on the sink, so why not? It probably would have worked too, if it weren't for my own stupidness. I was trying to get the concoction up around the sides of the cup, and don't forget the lid, so I set the lid on top--not even sealed--shook it once, twice--KA-BLAM! Baking soda, vinegar, and cheese vomit stink EVERYWHERE, including the double-decker dish drainer (say that 3 times real fast) full of freshly washed dishes next to the sink. I was wiping up baking soda paste off the counters, cabinets, and walls for days afterward, and I am still finding spots until this day.

Kitchen: 2
Nee: 0

Tragedy!

During my blogging black-out last month, Hannah and I ran out to grab a few groceries. She entertained herself on the way back out to the car by figuring out how many days until her birthday. 40. (Which makes it exactly 20 days ago.) She thought it was tragic she'd have to wait that long. She actually used the word "tragic". Me: "No, it's tragic if you *die* before your birthday." She didn't get the distinction.

I also had to make a quick trip to the drugstore for a few things. There, I was profoundly disturbed by my purchases. Yes, I found everything on my list, but the packaging was just *wrong*: the TP was white! The shower gel was in a different bottle! And worst of all--the toothpaste came in a pump. Why?! Why have you forsaken me, Colgate marketing department? I wasn't emotionally prepared for the experience, let me tell you.

Here's a bit I accidentally left out of my account of our foray into folk dancing:
We had been doing this dance with a turn on the ball of the foot. A variant has you turning on your heel, so we were practicing that individually before inflicting ourselves on a partner. The instructor's wife was putting her leg out, heel down, in a weird squatting way that reminded me of a duck. And I just about lost it.
Nee's brain: "Oh my God--if I start quacking and laughing, I will never stop!"
I didn't want John's German-Swedish club friends thinking they'd saddled themselves with a president whose wife was a nutball, so I made a heroic effort to nip it in the bud, but it was hard with the duck-lady standing right next to me.

And in that vein:
I crawled in Hannah's bed one morning to wake her up, because I was too lazy to stand next to it, and I was doing my usual wake-up routine of poking and tickling when she asked me if I had rabies. "Nope, I'm like this naturally." I'm thinking about adding it to my banner up there, because she's not the first person I've had to explain this to. The last time was to our American neighbor who had come over for drinks and games. We got really silly, and then she realized I wasn't even drinking. *g*