Hit me with your best shot

My friends were supposed to come over last night, but since they didn't - I am now sitting here with one dozen Beard Papa's in front of me. I do not need it as I have gained like 10 pounds since October but it looks like I've gained 20. ~sigh~

Meanwhile, New Year festivities are in full swing around here, and that means mochi. We went to watch mochi pounding today and goddam there is nothing better than freshly made mochi. Yum. They came with all the accoutrements too. Red bean, nori, soy sauce+sugar, kinako+sugar and some weird ass radish mix thing that was pretty darn tasty. The Kid preferred his plain.

I will be cooking all day tomorrow and all Monday. Some of the things we plan on eating: Mochi (of course), Ozoni, chicken wings, flank steak, tazukuri (blech), sushi, lucky black beans, salt & pepper shrimp, tofu and noodles. I also plan on making little green-tea cakes. We'll see how that goes. Whew. I better get crackin'.

See all the New Year's pics, here on flickr.
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I dont need permission, make my own decisions

Well not many people had questions for me. Told you, I'm not that interesting. Still, some answers:

1. First thought when you went into labor:
"Oh crap. I think I just peed on the couch."

2. What does your Uncle do with the ammo?
Threatens the neighborhood kids to get off his lawn, I assume.

3. Have you always hated polka dots?
Yes. No reason. The pattern, any kind of overly intense, tight pattern, makes me physically sick.

Well I picked three. I know I said five, but you know what? A wise man once told me: "It's my prerogative. I can do what I wanna do. It's my prerogative." That man? The Dalai Lama. No, wait. It was Bobby Brown. From his hit sophomore album, "Don't Be Cruel." No truer words were ever said, Bobby. No truer words.
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If there's something you'd like to tryask me, I won't say no, how could I?

The Kid and I went to a deli today. With all kid's meals, they give you a bag of cotton candy as 'dessert'. Hi, I'd like a side of diabetes, please. Well, it was PINK cotton candy, which is - of course, hard for me to pass up. Maybe, just maybe, I ate the whole thing after the Kid went to bed tonight. Yeah, I'm gonna need to think up an excuse in the morning.

Another not so nice thing I did - was tell Nanners that I'd totally do this meme, and I am totally not going to do it. '5 Things You Don't Know About Me"? I'm not that interesting. Instead I open the floor to you. Ask me a question. Ask me a dozen. I'll pick 5 and answer them. I didn't say the 5 best, I said 5. Either that or think up an excuse for where that pink cotton candy went, cause I'm stumped.

Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye, sweet cherry pie

Christmas was excellent. Relaxing and fun, which is good any day - holiday or no. Our secret santa exchange went well - my Uncle asked for a sweater or ammo. Um, believe it or not, he got the ammo.
This year I brought dessert to our Christmas dinner. I have made cream cakes in the past, and they are always as delicious as they are pretty. This time I changed it up and made a Cherry Cream Cake. I happen to love cherries. I remember eating Maraschino cherries out of the jar as a kid. Some people may find that gross, but that sweet taste - I just love it. The only thing that is bothersome is that people think it looks like fruitcake, which is vile, and off-putting.

The leftover cherry juice? No, I wouldn't drink it straight from the jar, don't be crazy. However, mix it with Coke and you've got a damn good Roy Rogers. Roy Rogers carried a gun. Cherries and ammo. Mmm - Merry Christmas indeed.

Cherry Cream Cake, recipe HERE.

He knows if you've been bad or good

I can't believe Christmas is tomorrow. I have no tree, and the lovely Christmas miracle that was the Baby not being sick anymore - well that was just a cruel trick cause once again, he's got a terrible cold. Poor baby.

We had our annual Christmas Eve party (my dad's family) at Disneyland. It was lots of food, lots of gifts, OH LORD THE GIFTS....

Believe it or not this is only HALF of the gifts that were given out. Mostly to kids, and almost all of them from my Aunt. It sucks not being a kid, they get all the good stuff. But it's a whole bunch of fun to watch them tear open the packages. Me - I just wanted a second helping of dessert. BRING ME MORE CAKE SOMEONE, THANKS.

The Kid still insists that Santa NOT stop by tonight. Well, the thought of stranger breaking into your house and eating cookies is a bit disconcerting but still, he's not stealing our tv, HE LEAVES GIFTS, get it?

I am tempted to leave lumps of coal or charcoal briquettes in a little pile for the Kid since he is so anti-Christmas. Maybe he's Jewish. Hm. Or perhaps next year we'll just celebrate Kwanzaa instead, dammit.

Oh, and Merry Christmas!

But I can't believe that you'd ever care, and this is why you will never care. These things take time.

I am lame. I had no idea Christmas is this Monday. Seriously. I am losing it.

Tonight I worked on my brother's wedding invitations (more on that later), and I baked a last minute gift of Vegan Oatmeal Pumpkin Cookies for a neighbor who likes my baking. I put the cookies in a lovely glass jar with a ribbon. They look so yummy and pretty.

Seeing as how I didn't realize Christmas was in a few days, my cards and gifts...well those are late as well. They will be going to the post office...today...or Tuesday...or something.

This holiday season blows cause it's one thing after another. Starting with Halloween. Then Thanksgiving. The Baby's birthday. Christmas. Japanese New Year's Day. O.G.'s birthday. The Kid's birthday. The Bro's wedding.

Did you see what I slipped in there? New Year's Day. It's on the following Monday. We don't celebrate New Year's Eve, we celebrate New Year's Day. With Japanese food. Lots of it. I need to get ready. Now.
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Spamalot

People who read this blog love purses!
You truly are my peeps. My homies. My thugz.
___________________

You know that scene in A Christmas Story where the mom never gets a hot meal cause she's always having to get up and get things for the BOYS in her family? Are you following me on this? I feel that pain. Cause everytime I sit down to eat a little something it's "Mommy. Apple juice." "Mommy. The Baby threw his cracker." "Mommy. My butthole."

As if that weren't the worst meal of the day for me, it may well be my only meal. When I am at work I don't have any time to eat. If I remember, I try to make myself a cup of hot green tea in the morning. That sits on my desk until I remember it's there and by then it's ice cold.

I usually realize I haven't eaten by about, oh, 3pm. At that point I feel like I can push it until I eat with the kids around 5:30 - what's another 2.5 hours, really? Except for that one day at work when I nearly passed out at 2pm cause my hands were shaking so bad from low blood sugar. Yeah, that was no good.

One solution is to have food that you can take on the go. (A recipe is coming if you are still following this lame story. Just hang in there.) One of the Kid's faves is Spam Musubi.

I know. Spam. The thought probably makes you sick. But trust me, it's not bad when done RIGHT. And by right I do not mean that crap they sell you wrapped in plastic wrap for $1.50 at the Local restaurant.

So trust me on this. And make it MY way. You won't be disappointed. You also won't die from malnutrition. Now I just need to heed my own advice.
Recipe, HERE.
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I may not have a lot to give but what I got I'll give to you

At my old job I never got a Christmas bonus. That's pretty much a 7 year run of "Happy Birthday Jesus, hope you like crap." Seeing as how I'm not a 'real' employee at this new job, I doubt I'll be getting one this year, either.

However, I was contemplating, WHAT IF I got the world's best bonus someday? What total consumer-tastic thing would I spend it on? In all honesty, I'd probably take the $$ and head over to Cook's Library and buy a ton of cookbooks. Then I'd buy a time machine and give myself time to cook and bake everything that sounded interesting to me.

Well, that time machine thing isn't realistic, but I do intend on heading over there to buy me-self some cookbooks sometime next week. Sometime when I am not working. Which is...never.

I'm pretty sure no one is reading this blog anymore, as you have all probably started your vacations already. But if you are there, let me know - if you could buy yourself something truly fantastic, what would it be? And don't say love. Phooey. I'm asking for purely superficial things. You can't buy love anyway. John Lennon told me so.
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Smells like teen spirit

I have always thought the Baby smelled like ham. No, really. Like, I sniff his little ears and it smells like Easter dinner. What up with that? I didn't think anything of it til one day my mom said, "This boy smells like maple syrup." Hm. A ham glazed in maple syrup, maybe? Then she said, "No, there is a disease called MAPLE SYRUP DISEASE." Go on, now.

I looked it up, and there is! Only to be more specific it's called "Maple Syrup URINE Disease." That's lovely. I guess your pee pee smells like sugar. Interesting.

Suffice it to say, the Baby does NOT have Maple Syrup Disease, he doesn't even have Honey Baked Ham disease (I may have made up. Ok, I did.) The culprit of the sweet ham-y smell is the baby bath soap I have been using. Aveeno - which is good for kids prone to excema, or if you just want smooth skin - is a soothing oatmeal bath. It must have some sort of sugar in it, cause dammit, I just wanna eat that kid up when I smell him.

Thankfully he only smells of sweetness and ham. He does not smell like urine. Things could be worse.

I've got a secret I can't explainand all the time I've waited for this day

Every year our family does the 'Secret Santa' thing. When this was proposed I was not thrilled. I felt like we were 'asking' for things rather than 'thinking' of the person we were buying for. Anyway, it's been like 5 years now and it seems like we get MORE gifts. No one really sticks to the 'secret santa' rule, it's just a gift free for all where everyone gets like TWENTY gifts. What's the point, really?

I'll tell you WHO gets into the secret santa thing, O.G. I mean, I really don't go to great lengths to hide the fact that YES I AM YOUR SECRET GIFT GIVER. I just wrap all my gifts in the same damn paper. But O.G.? She goes out and gets 5 different rolls, writes the cards in different handwriting (hello, crazy) but the best one of them all, the BEST was when...

Jenn: "Um, what the hell is this?"
O.G.: "What?"
Jenn: "Someone, whoever my SECRET Santa was? They signed my card "Secret Santa" but CUT OUT DIFFERENT LETTERS FROM THE NEWSPAPER all stalker-like..."
O.G.: "Oh? Well that's pretty secretive."
Jenn: "I bet if I went to your house I'd find a newspaper with a bunch of freakin' letters cut out of it."
O.G. "Hm."
Jenn: "Whoever my Secret Santa was is a goddam serial killer, I think."
O.G.: "It looks VERY secret to me."
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It's the thought that counts

I love giving gifts to people. I enjoy buying or making things for the people I adore. I know gifts do not equal love, but I do feel that gifts equal caring. You care about that person or think about them enough to give them a little something. While I do give a lot of gifts, I don't really get that many. Hm. What am I saying - no one cares about me? Crap. I just realized that. Anyway, I'm not complaining, it's just the way it is. So when I was out and about this holiday season I did buy a few things for myself:

1. Kitchen Confidential - Anthony Bourdain
I can't believe I haven't read this yet. I finally got around to picking it up.

2. Red Melamine Batter Pitcher
WS. My fave store. With all the pancakes I make on Sunday mornings, this little spout and handle will make it a little easier. And it's RED! Yay!

3. Adagio White Monkey Tea
I only bought this because of the name. You know this.

4. Sanrio Monkey Coinpurse
This thing will fit like 3 coins, but it's so damn cute and it was only $2. Come on.

5. Mario Batali Measuring Prep Spoons
I do not like Mario Batali, can't stand watching him in fact. However I would like to try his new L.A. Restaurant 'Mozza' because Nancy Silverton is the pastry Chef. Mmm. Pastries. Also his new line of kitchenware ? I fell in love with it. Because? CHOCOLATE BROWN. I can't resist that color. These spoons are useful tools AND they are measuring spoons. Awesome.

Merry Christmas to me, thanks me!

Clear as soup

I haven't posted a recipe in a while. Instead I will post one that the Kid told me last night while he took a bath:

The Kid: "Mommy. I am going to make Strawberry Soup. You need: water (bath water). Strawberries. One coffee bean. Grapes. Cheerios."

Mmm. Sounds delish. Vomit-y delicious. I wouldn't try making this if I were you. Just saying.
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Bros before Hos. She ain't yo' Ho, no mo'.

By noon today I'd had enough. I called up the admin and told her to go out and get me some suicide pills. She told me that I was out of luck cause she would take them for herself. She brought me Advil instead. Dammit.

I frantically searched my purse for anything to O.D. on, but all I could find were pig sprinkles. With no other option, I downed a handful and waited. The only thing I got out of it was slightly pink teeth and a sore tummy. So much for trying to kill myself.

Since I had no choice but to live, I decided to give life a go til at least 8pm so I could watch the hour long 'Office'. I was excited to see it was directed by Harold Ramis, but then again I've seen Ghostbusters about 1000 times too many.

I laughed out loud when Michael called Benihana the 'Asian Hooters.' Heck, I was getting those two girls mixed up, but then again they all look alike. Waitresses, I mean.

When Jim was talking about 'rebound girls' but not being able to stop thinking about 'the one' you are really in love with - that made me wanna cry a little.

Thanks for all the 'knocking on wood.' I think it's working. Or maybe I'm just high on pig sprinkles.
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Sick-boy, in his faded blue jeansSick-boy, black leather jacket scene

That's it. I'm packing my bags. Turning off my cell phone. There is no forwarding address. I am done...with life. I can't take it anymore.

This Baby is sick AGAIN. This whole month has been like this and this is the 4th time his fever has shot up over 102. Daycare won't take him anymore. I ended up having to check him into a hospital today so they could take care of him. They didn't want him either. They called me to tell me that he has major separation anxiety. Ya think? THat hysterical screaming I can barely hear you through was a dead giveaway actually. He just doesn't like strangers. I don't blame him.

I had a mini breakdown on the phone with the doctor because I just don't know what to do. All this sick - all this time off - it's making me nuts. I still have to pay the massive amount of $$ for daycare even if he doesn't go. My job is pretty ticked too. Should I not work? But I have to. No daycare? But I have no choice.

I feel awful and cry-y. I just want to slip away and no one will even remember that I existed. Instead I think I will eat Trader Joe's peppermint creams until I barf or pass out on the floor. Maybe when I wake up this will all be a dream and the Baby will be fine and I will be a millionaire. Right.

I have no happy ending to this post. So instead I'll just show you a picture of the Kid putting pig sprinkles on his ice cream cone. At least he's not sick. Knock on wood. No - seriously - someone knock on it. I need all the help I can get.
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Makin' a list. Checkin' it twice.

Just in time for Christmas! This is some gift, people. You know you have a whole pile o' names you want to write on this thing, so here you go...your own SHIT LIST. It's $6 and if you order this week you can get it before Christmas. ALSO, only $2 shipping! 40 pages - 5.5" x 8.5"

Mr. Anderson was a good sport about his name at the top of the list. For that he gets a free notepad. He said he's going to use it as a sign in sheet for his next meeting. A great idea if you ask me.

Don't put me off 'cause I'm on fire, and I can't quench my desire

Today a friend of mine told me, "Jenn, you are on FIRE." I'm not sure what he meant. My temperament? My looks? My skillz? I dunno. But he said it twice. I didn't question him. I just wanted him to shut up.
However, I will tell you what I KNOW is on fire:

theKid: "Mommy. My bum itches."
Jenn: "Ouch. You want me to rub it?"
theKid: "Stick your finger in my butthole."
Jenn: "UH. I think I'll pass. Thanks."

To clear your mind of such thoughts, I give you this: A monkey and a monkey and a taco. Ahhh. Is there anything better in life? I mean besides a non-itchy butthole.

Slow as molasses

First off, this is the last week of shipping for me and the last week to take advantage of the Winter PROMO. Buy ANY custom item, get a mini set of Signature cards free. What a deal.

Secondly, the cookie exchange was a smashing success! Except for my large belly - now that I've eaten 11 kinds of cookies. UGH. All were really good, however...we had a vote for the best cookie, with the prize being a baking package from Surfas: sheets, spatulas, cutters, you name it. And the winning cookie? MOLASSES SUGAR COOKIES, made by the self proclaimed: 'non-baker', Jodi! Yay! They were delish and the Kid ate three, so that's saying something.

Here's a whole set of flickr pics. Don't they just make your mouth water? Mmm... Ouch. My tummy.

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Ready for the cookie swap:

My cookies - part 1

My cookies - part 2

The Kid's cookies

"I want some milk. And you know where milk comes from! Breasts."

I didn't expect to be in a 3 car accident today. Yet here I am. The baby was in the car with me. Only two blocks from my house. Wouldn't you know it. I was in the front car. The third car hit the second car with so much force, she hit me. No visible damage, but my neck is killing me. I've asked the Baby what he thinks, too bad he can't speak yet.

Another too bad is, California law says that if you are in a car accident you MUST replace the car seats that are in the cars. I get it - but we just got this sucker. $350 Britax Marathon, bitches. Now I have to get TWO new ones. Great. It doesn't matter that I'm not paying for it, it's just...ugh, one more thing to do.

Forget all that. I took some Aleve which is as good as crack, if you ask me - and my neck pain went away. I also felt high as a kite, but whatever. So I tackled my 'BYOC' cookie swap cookies. They are a three day process so I had to get a move on. Yes. Those will be heads. And boobs.

Mr. Hand: "What are you, people? On dope?"

Hello everyone.
Come talk to me.
No, really.
Come over here, and tell me ANYTHING.
For instance, when I'm standing at the Target checkout, feel free to tell me how to make crack cocaine from the Nyquil I just bought. Thanks.

"What about the time I caught you nakedwith that bowl of Jello?""It was hot. I was hungry."

As I sat on my living room floor, surrounded by paper, about to start hand-making 80 Christmas cards, I realized...maybe I should hire an immigrant worker. No, no, no, that wasn't it. I realized that my brain is slightly fried. It's December 5th and I am starting my cards now? Not very Jenn, if you ask me. Usually I plan better than this, but with my new 35 hour a week "part-time job," things have been a little crazy 'round here.

It also dawns on me that next week I have not one, not two, but THREE potlucks. Freakin' crap. If it's baking, that is no problem, but these people are demanding appetizers or main dishes. I can't get out of them either. One is a work related party. The other two are for the kid's school. Two kids equals two dishes, people. Dammit.

Even though I have a stable of recipes at my disposal, like I said, my brain is fried. I can't even think of what to make. So I ask you, what do you usually take to potlucks, OR, what would you want to EAT at a potluck?

Angela: Yes. But don’t expect any cookie.Dwight: But what if I’m hungry?Angela: No cookie.

So I had this idea for a cookie exchange. People come, bring cookies, we eat them, package up the rest and share the recipes. A simple, fun and DELISH way to spend the holidays.

Even *I* know when I'm in over my head. It's a simple concept, but it does take time and execution, not to mention space. Space free of Thomas train sets that is. So I enlisted the help of Nanners and we decided to combine our efforts and co-host this party. However, she had rules.

We had to keep it to people we both knew OR that we had met in real life. (That last bit meaning internet friends. Sorry strangers.) Which turns out to be a good thing since the Kid will be coming and you know how I am about that. (He'll be baking too, Burger Bites.) Also they HAD to be bakers. You can't be coming with Ralphs brand cookies, people. Her last rule? I was not allowed to go *crazy*. See 'pirate party.' And BSE. And...nevermind.

Our plan? Each guest brings 4 dozen cookies. Hold on. Don't freak. That's only like two batches, it's nothin'. About half we are going to put out for people to eat, then we are going to box up the rest for take away.

It should be fun. Apparently people are already trying out their recipes! Nanners said the ones she baked made some dude at work MOAN. Ok, that's just nasty. It's not that kind of party. If this goes well, we may do it again next year. Or in the spring even. I love cookies. Who doesn't love cookies? Well. Maybe communists. Or diabetics. But they aren't invited.

Stay tuned to see how it turns out.
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How the Kid almost died, episode #2

Ok, well. Here's the thing. The Kid, he loves him some nori. Seaweed. Not the plain kind that is wrapped around sushi, but the flat small cut seasoned sheets that you use to pick up rice and just...eat. That's what we did when we were kids, anyway. That is some tasty stuff. Try it.

So I usually hand him a few sheets to nibble on while I am getting his 'real' dinner ready. So the other night, I do this, then notice silence, then muffled gagging. I look over to see him choking and struggling for air.

Turns out he took a larger than average bite and the piece kind of stuck itself - suction like - over his itty bitty windpipe. Horrible. I had to reach my fingers in his mouth and scrape it out.

Of course I did the logical thing and yelled at HIM for taking such a large bite. Cause yeah, that was the blame. Not the irresposible mother who just handed him the food. Ugh. I'm a horrible person.
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Atwhay ooday ooyay inkthay, Ampay?

I need to tell you the story of how my child almost died yesterday. But I'll leave that for next week.
I also need to tell you the nice recipe I tried out on Thanksgiving.
Oh and that new O.G. story before I forget.
Um, and how I almost lost 4 days of work until someone found my drawings...in the street.
And I need to tell you about my recent purchase at my fave store.
Oh and about the party I am co-hosting next week.
And remind me to tell you why my hair smells so good.
Yeah. All that stuff. Remind me.

Jonas Salk.Who?Justin Timberlake.

Tonight's episode made me cringe so badly I watched part of it through my hands. That'd be the "Prison Mike" part. Good lord how awful. How would that even be legal in a real office? And the thing is...that stuff really happens. I've been through many similar situations. Except for the baby at the office thing. I should totally take mine to work tomorrow. I'll just keep him under my desk and throw some crackers down there.

Speaking of, at daycare, most children are wearing Sesame Street t-shirts. This is how you can tell which kids are mine:

P.S. WIGGLES ALERT: Greg Wiggle is not leaving the Wiggles for a life of hookers and blow, if that's what you are thinking. The man had a double hernia. Give him a break. You can't wiggle with a hernia, people.