old enough to know better

Yesterday was my birthday.

I'm 37.

Yippee.

Wanna know what my best gift was?

A comment from a friend.

We were talking about a mutual acquaintance, and I said something like, "She's the kind of person I wish I was."

And guess what my friend said?

"Eh, you're fine the way you are."

37 isn't really that exciting, but wanna know what I did anyway?

Friday night,  we went bowling with some friends & our kiddos.  This wasn't just any old bowling.  It was "cosmic bowling".  Which means they turn on black lights and a disco ball and play loud music.  Made a rule that when you got a strike, you had to break out a dance move to celebrate.  I'm pretty sure I was the only one who participated and I think I embarrassed myself and everyone else, but so what?  That's the good part about being 37.  You just don't care anymore about trying to be cool.

Got up early on Saturday, and went to a birthday party for a 7 year old, complete with roller skating and a Justin Bieber cake.  Went to lunch with my mom and then came home and took a 3 hour nap because we didn't get home from bowling until after 1 AM.  When I got up, I intended on making Superfrydad take me out to a nice dinner, but I didn't feel like putting on real clothes.  So we went to the drive-thru at Dairy Queen and I wore mismatched pj's and Superfrydad's slippers.  It was awesome.

I guess if my 37 year old self could go back in time and tell my 7 year old self something, it would be this:  "Take care of your body better, don't care so much about pleasing other people, and pick a different bridesmaid dress."

Over Christmas break, Superfrykid found the bridesmaid dress my sister wore in our wedding and tried it on.  It is truly the ghastliest, tackiest, most horrifying thing ever.  Shiny satin and a ginormous bow with strands of fake pearls cascading over the open back.  I can't believe these people are still my friends.

preps

Do you know what a prepper is?

Back in the day, sometimes kids would call someone a "prep".  Which basically meant they were preppy or snobby or thought they were better. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you are young and probably don't realize that the Jets are not just a football team from New York, but also an 80's pop group.

That's not what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about preppers.

As in Doomsday Preppers, as seen on National Geographic.

I've watched a few episodes.  And for the most part, I think they are crazy.  However, it does make me think about what I may or may not be prepared for in case of a disaster or crisis.

I've been reading some blogs about gathering what preppers call a "bug out kit", which is basically an emergency stash of items that can keep you going for 72 hours, should you need to grab a backpack and flee from your home.

I decided maybe I would begin to gather some items that made sense to me.......like water, some granola bars, maybe even a hand-crank radio or flashlight.

Then I came across something that made me stop and think twice.

The Pocket Chainsaw.

Now, I don't know about you, but in my world, the words pocket and chainsaw don't go together.

Basically, it's the chain part of a chainsaw on a shoestring.  The description says that it "rolls up to fit in any pocket" and that it "can be used to cut through any wood surface".  emphasis mine.  

Yes, it can be used to cut through any wood surface.  Pretty sure any tree branch that can be sawed through by the pocket chainsaw could be snapped off by hand.  And if you really did need to use it to do any sort of real "chainsawing", I'm pretty sure you would have no flesh left on your hands.  But that's just me.

I also learned on one of the episodes that some preppers hoard buy large quantities of fish tank antibiotics because it's chemically the same thing as antibiotics we take when we are sick and they can get them without a prescription.  Hmmm.....do I want to take fish tank cleaner in lieu of penicillin? No!  But maybe the next time I'm in PetSmart, I'll stock up so that when the Black Market on Fish Tank Antibiotics goes crazy, I can trade them for some Vienna Sausages.

New Year, Schmew Year

How are you doing on your resolutions for 2013?

I don't make resolutions, but if I did, here's what they would be:

1.  Lose weight.
Of course this is on pretty much everyone's list.  Even skinny people. Who should be slapped for even saying it.  How many calories does a slap burn?  Because I sure could burn some calories slapping some skinny people who think they are fat.

2.  Eat healthy.
Pretty sure finishing off the leftover Christmas candy and cookies does not a healthy New Year make.  Also, it's cold in January, which makes me want to eat biscuits and gravy for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

3.  Save money.
Pretty sure the fiscal cliff (whatever that is) is going to take care of that.  I've been on my own fiscal precipice pretty much my entire life.   Trying to save money that does not exist makes me feel like a hoarder of invisible things.

4.  Get organized.
Does taking down my Christmas tree the day after Christmas count?  I put all of my Christmas stuff in plastic bins.  Then I go clearance shopping and throw the bags on top of the bins.  That's about as organized as I get.

5.  Be kind.
Many people resolve to try and be kinder, gentler and more compassionate.  I'm actually going to try to make this one happen.  Wanna know how?  I am going to hide some people from my facebook feed.  Which will hopefully make me roll my eyes less and smile more.

What are your New Year's Resolutions?

country ham

When you get right down to it, there are really only 2 kinds of people in the world.

Those who like country ham.  And those who don't.

I happen to like country ham.

Usually I get country ham sandwiches by way of buying them from a high school softball team or choir or some such fundraiser.

When we were kids, my mom used to make a whole country ham - studded with cloves and glistening with a yummy glaze which we picked off and might be one of the most delicious things in the whole world.

This year, it was my turn to make the country ham.  I asked my mom what to do and felt confident that I could pull it off.

Step One:  Soak the ham.  I put mine in a cooler and soaked for 2 days, changing the water once. This picture was taken while changing the water - you should cover the ham completely with water.  Actually, if you are coming here for cooking advice of any sort, you should probably stop now and re-google.

Step Two:  Stud with cloves and cover in mustard and brown sugar mixture.  Some say you should cut off the ham hock, but that would require a hacksaw and a husband who was home, neither of which I possessed at the moment of baking.  Plus, it fit in the pan with the hock, so my ham kept it's hock.

Step Three:  Put some water in the pan and bake for about 4 hours until ham reaches an internal temperature of 160 degrees.  I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've ever used my handy dandy Pampered Chef thermometer.  My ham was 165 degrees, but who likes rare country ham?  Not me.

Step Four:  Have Superfrydad slice thinly with an electric knife.

Disclaimer:  Between Steps 2 & 3, I had a mini-disaster.  I painfully put all of those cloves in and covered it with the glaze, as Step 2 says.  However, I failed to put any water in the pan as my mother instructed.

When I checked it two hours later, it looked like a giant leather football.  Guess they call a football a pigskin for a reason because the skin on this ham looked EXACTLY like leather.  No glistening glaze, just a giant piece of meat encased with hard skin.  So I called my mom.  She said, "Did you take off the skin?"  I said, "No, you didn't tell me to do that, plus I forgot to put water in the pan!"

So I put some water in the pan, got Superfrydad (who was now home) to cut off the skin, and re-cloved and  reglazed the newly skinned ham.  Baked for 2 more hours and it turned out fine.  I did not take any pictures because I was too mad and wanted to throw the ham out into the yard.

Lessons learned from country ham:
Scouring pads are a girl's best friend when it comes to cleaning your roasting pan after almost ruining a country ham.
Some things, like making country ham, are better left to the professionals.  Or your mom.

broccoli ballet

This is Superfrykid's first year of ballet.

She's 8, which by many standards is probably WAAAAY too late to really get a good foundation for becoming the professional dancer that I'm sure she will aspire to be.  But I'm a slacker mom like that, so stop judging me.

Anyway, if you don't know me in real life, dance is probably #1027 on my list of things I don't like.  It's not that I have anything against it, but it's just not my "thing", ya know?

Probably this has something to do with the fact that I have no dancing skills whatsoever.  In general, I only like things I'm good at, and dancing is not one of those.  As a matter of fact, maybe that's why I pretty much hate everything because I'm not really good at much.  But that's a discussion for another day.

Back to ballet.

Superfrykid has really been enjoying her class and this week she was really excited because they were going to see a picture of their costumes for their recital.

Superfrydad went in to pick her up while I sat in the car. (Because he's awesome and I hate going into the waiting area and pretending to be normal and nice and dance-mom-ish).....anyway...Superfrykid came out to the car and here's how the conversation went:

ME:  "Did you see your costume?"

Silence from the back seat.

SUPERFRYDAD: "It's green and it's sparkly."

ME: (Trying to feign excitement because really I could care less as long as it doesn't look like it was made for a midget streetwalker.):  "Ooooh....sparkly!  That sounds pretty!"

Silence from the back seat.

ME: (turns around to look at SFK) "Do you like it?"

SFK:  (crosses arms and makes a snooty face)

ME:  "What's wrong with green and sparkly?"

SFK: (shrieking) "I"M BROCCOLI!!!!!"

ME: (quickly turning back to the front to hide my face while laughing uncontrollably) "I didn't know broccoli could dance!"  (Laughter turns to snorts and uncontrollable giggles)

SFK: "Mommmmmmmmm!  You're mean!"

ME:  (singing) "Broc-co-leeeeee, Cel-er-eeeee, Gotta Beeeeeeee, VeggieTales.  Lima Beeeeeeeeeans, Collard Greeeeeeens, Peachy Keeeeeen, Veggietales." (to the tune of the theme song from VeggieTales, for you heathens)

She may never speak to me again because I could not get my laughter under control.

But, really?  Broccoli?

This ballet class is not cheap and you're telling me that my kid is going to be broccoli in the recital?

You know what?  Dancing broccoli could be the beginning of something great in her life.  I shouldn't laugh at it.  I can't wait for the recital.  I was thinking that I was going to try to get out of volunteering in the dressing room, but maybe volunteering in the dressing room is preferable over sitting through all of the food groups expressing themselves through dance, which is what I am thinking the theme MIGHT be.

On second thought, I might still try to avoid that dressing room duty because I might miss the macaroni macarena or the rutabaga rumba.  Oh, and of course, the broccoli ballet.

Diarrhea Song

Warning:  this post is about poop.  Again.  I know.  I'm sorry.  Not really.

I was reading People I Want to Punch in the Throat and was directed to this lovely little site.

Its The Official Diarrhea Song blog.

I only read a few before I had tears running down my face.

Wait.

That could be a song.

When tears are running down your face
and poop runs out of it's poop place
Diarrhea, Diarrhea

Not my best work, but I'm okay with mediocrity.

But I think if you made it this far into this post, you already knew that.

Now you're singing that song, aren't you?

You're welcome.  Have a great time trying to replace that in your head.

someone (almost) stole my identity

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving. 

Around 9:30 pm, I got an order confirmation email from Best Buy.

They thanked me for ordering the Complete Fifth Season DVD set of "The Big Bang Theory".

First of all, I did not order anything from Best Buy.

Secondly, I never order DVDs when I can watch reruns for free on TBS.

Thirdly, I think Sheldon is only funny sometimes.  Maybe I'm not smart enough to "get" The Big Bang Theory, but if I was going to order a complete season of something, it would probably be "Duck Dynasty".  That's my new favorite TV show, which has nothing to do with any of this, but if you haven't seen it, you are missing out.

Anyway, when I got the email, I didn't really think those 3 things right away.  What I did think was.......SOMEONE STOLE MY IDENTITY!!!!!!!!!

The email had my name ALISSA FRY, but the address was not mine.  Clearly, a hacker had hijacked my Best Buy account and ordered a $9.95 DVD set as a test before moving on to larger purchases.

So I called the 1-800 number for Best Buy.  Which is actually an 888 number, but whatever.  

Basically, here's what happened:  

There are 2 people named Alissa Fry.  One is me.  The other lives in another state and is not me.

Somehow, the other person placed an order and paid for it, but the email confirmation came to me.

Somehow, customer service at Best Buy could not wrap their heads around this and gave me the run around.  

And put me on hold for over 50 minutes.  Twice.  That's almost 2 hours of my life on hold with Best Buy.  Not how I want to spend my time.  It does rate above having my cellulite shaved off with a cheese grater, but only slightly.  

AND, they gave me the other Alissa Fry's phone number, which is clearly not something they should do.

Because I called the other Alissa Fry.  

Thankfully, she wasn't like "how did you get this number?"   She was cool.  We do share the same name, which must count for something.

The other Alissa Fry confirmed that she did place the order and that she checked her account and had been charged for it.  

She also promised to never steal my identity.  I also promised I would never steal her identity.    

We clearly share high moral values as well as the same first and last names.

There's more to the frustration part of the story, but I will spare you.  Suffice it to say that after 2 plus hours of phone time and one trip to my local store, I was very irritated.  

So I called the 888 number again and complained.  

And guess what?  They are sending me a $100 Best Buy Gift Card.

I hope they send it to me and not the other me.

So then I sent the other me a text and told her she should complain too and see if she can get a gift card. 

So what I'd like to say to Best Buy is..........BAZINGA!