A Sh** Load of Green Beans

I haven't the energy to do a coherent post. Not that any of my posts are ever coherent. Here are snippets of my week:

--I was going to the grocery store the other day and asked my husband if there is anything he wanted. He thought for a second and then said, and I quote: "Yeah, get a shit load of green beans." This brings up all kinds of questions, none of which I bothered to ask. What constitutes a "shit load" of green beans? Why do we need a "shit load" of green beans and not just several cans? Or are several cans a "shit load?" Doesn't this strike you as something an unemployed man wearing a wife beater with a huge belly would say to his bitch? I mean, isn't there something vaguely demeaning about being asked to get a "shit load" of green beans at the store? In case you're curious, this was on Monday. I bought six cans. He hasn't had any. So I'm waiting to see if he's preparing some green bean extravaganza of a meal this weekend wherein the appetizer, main course and dessert include green beans.

--And I think weird requests before grocery runs must be genetic. I don't buy much at Whole Foods. Not only because of the prices, but also the checkout people think they're so cool and "green." Piercings don't make you an Earth-lover!!  Anyway, I go to buy this Earth's Best stuff Lulu likes that I can't get at Jewel. So when I told the girls where I was going, Moxley says, "Can you get us Walden and Widget costumes while you're there? And make sure the Walden costume comes with glasses!" "Yes," I told them very earnestly. "I'll check if the grocery store carries Wow Wow Wubzy costumes and accessories."

--I'm back into my weird baking / making things from scratch phase. Worry not, it won't last long. This was precipitated by my worry that the girls aren't eating healthy enough. So I'm making our own popsicles and desserts like pumpkin bread cupcakes. I'm doing annoying things like substituting apple sauce for some of the butter and using half whole wheat flour and more brown sugar than white sugar. You know, sort of like what Jessica Seinfeld's chef does when making meals for Jerry's children and then Jessica tells Oprah she does it all herself.  Everything tastes like crap by the way. Speaking of a "shit load" of something, I put a "shit load" of canned vanilla icing on mine when the girls aren't looking...

--So now that I'm back to baking, nothing amuses me more than those recipe sites where people try the recipe (like allrecipe.com) and then make comments about the recipe and how they changed it. "Well,  instead of adding a teaspoon of nutmeg I used extra cinnamon and I don't like cloves so I skipped that altogether!" Really? You have that much time to find a recipe, not follow it and then post how you altered it online? And isn't it sort of inconsiderate to the person who invented the recipe in the first place? If I was the originator I'd reply, "I said use NUTMEG AND CLOVES dammit!" I substituted some applesauce for butter, but I didn't feel the need to inform the whole recipe-searching community that is in fact what I did. I guess I'm not a true baker at heart or I'd enjoy being regaled with tales of how pumpkin bread tastes minus the nutmeg. (And it's not lost on me that I have the time and inclination to take pictures and post them of the bread I baked and green beans I bought so I'm not one to make fun...)

--I am teaching an online PR course next month. I think I'll enjoy the relative anonymity of it and the fact I don't have to take a shower beforehand like I did when I taught in person. Maybe I'll even do it from bed. I need more opportunities where I can work from bed. That's my motto for 2011: "Willing to work from bed!" I should do a YouTube video of me from bed. Maybe it will get me all kinds of offers like that homeless Golden Voice guy who Dr. Phil made go to rehab.

--Moxley has been a real downer lately. She's like that person who can ruin a good party just by showing up.  I think the potty training thing has hit her hard. She pees in the potty but then basically waits all day until I put on her night diaper to do her other business. This seems to put her in a foul mood every waking moment. She's been throwing temper tantrums about crazy shit, usually clothes. Then later she'll explain it to me very rationally: "Well, you know mama, it hurts my feelings when you don't let me wear purple." She's talking about an outfit consisting of purple pants with an ill-fitting blue-striped top with decorative crystals on it. She wants to wear the same thing every day. An ensemble, frankly, that is as mismatched as it is oversized. Also, mama don't like doing laundry every day, which makes it hard to wear the same thing day after day after day.  I feel like I need to do something extreme about her fashion sense. Send her Priority Fed Ex to Anna Wintour's house for example. I bet Anna's good with kids.  Here is the shirt but you can't see the pants that don't match. Yes, she's eating icing from the container. It was when we were stuck inside for 48 hours in a blizzard and we were making sugar cookies so bite me. (Did I mention I make my own healthy popsicles?)

--The girls have their three-year pediatrics appointment Saturday. If it goes anything like their second-year, I'm in for a really delightful afternoon. The doctor couldn't measure them, weigh them, examine them or even look at them. It was like the Diana Ross of two-year wellness visits.The nurses managed to stab them with the required vaccines while they were held down like wild animals. I had nightmares for weeks. We haven't been back since. My sister, who is a pediatric nurse, told me there is probably a note in our file marking us as "difficult." Difficult is putting it politely so that doesn't remotely bother me.

Anyway, if you know of any jobs where I can work from bed (aside, from you know working from bed -- ain't nobody gonna pay me for that the way I look these days) let me know.