But Who's Judging?

John: you need to go back to your 9am-5pm job.

Kate: back away from the Hollywood mumb-jumbo, and stay home with your kids.

I know, I know: I'm about 6 months too late.

Where Did I Come From?

Back on the Fence

Oh dear... it's going to be a lengthy post. And not on the topic that some of you may be expecting.

(expecting)

This year Isaac was blessed with a wonderful teacher. This fabulous woman has raised her kids, gone back to school, and this year was her first as a teacher.

We love her. L-O-V-E. Love.

Drama. Many of us parents unknowingly referred her to parents of upcoming 4th graders and raved about her on her end-of-year review. In a twist of fate, this praise was a detriment to our beloved teacher and cost her her position because the principal interpretted this love and support from the parents as her campaigning for her contract to be renewed.

Not the case!

Parents united, and shared stories about the difference she has made on their child's lives. (I'm not sure of the full extent, but I think it got ugly... parents storming the principal's office and the district office and board meetings.)

Sigh. In the meantime, Isaac did get accepted to the accelerated program, which has caused us quite a bit of grief: it requires another change of schools for Isaac.

He doesn't want to do it. We tried to let him make the decision, but then had to make it for him. We even attended the big meeting and made the commitment to attend the accelerated program next year. Much to Isaac's frustration.

Big News. After mucho, mucho drama, our sweet teacher has been offered a 5th grade teaching position at our school.

Now What? Do we stick with the new program at the new school, which comes with it's own fabulous teacher?

Or do I let Isaac stay at our school, so we can have Round 2 with a teacher that we all adore?

I'm sure that I don't have to tell you his vote.

My vote? Help me decide.

The Fat

I couldn't resist.

After a long absence from our lives, I made bacon this morning.

I found a package buried in the freezer, thawed it, and threw it on the George Foreman.

Just about this time, Maddie's head popped up from the couch like a meercat in the desert.

"I smell bacon."

I nodded and then, with me in total agreement she said "it smells like Grandma K.'s".

Oh, it does.

Is it sad that some of my favorite memories start with bacon?

Family campouts, family breakfast, family spending the weekend at Grandma and Grampa's.

Does that mean that bacon equals family?

After my bacon sizzled on the George Foreman, I put it in a very hot pan to finish crisping up, leaving behind just the perfect amount of bacon grease. After I removed the crispy bacon, Maddie watched me crack the eggs and was thoroughly grossed out that I dropped the raw eggs in to the hot bacon grease.

Amused, I went in to an explanation about how we live in a different time, and that women used to carefully save their bacon grease to use it for later, and I even remember my own health-conscious mom sometimes having a jar in the fridge to flavor green beans.

You know that the episode of Raymond was in the back of my mind the whole time... the one where Marie is still upset with Frank for throwing out the fat.

Maddie, Isaac and I sat down to our yummy breakfast and it wasn't before long that Maddie said "you're right, it does make the eggs better".

I'm Not Their Favorite Customer

I caused a bit of commotion yesterday.

(smirk)

I had to stop by a jewelry store and immediately the saleswoman offered to have her jeweler clean my wedding ring. (it must have been disgusting)

Several minutes later, and just as I was leaving, one of the other employees handed me a ring.

I said "that's not my ring" and turned around to look at more jewelry, leaving 4-5 other employees to have a group panic attack behind my back.

They pulled themselves together and (after re-checking) my saleswoman assured me that it was my ring.

The first time the ring was handed to me, a tissue was wrapped around it, and it appeared to only have one band, mine has two. Not to mention my ring was actually clean. Who would have thought it could make that much difference?

I'm not sure how many times I apologized, but it wasn't long before I was on my way with the proper ring on my finger.

You've Got to Be Kidding Me

I needed one stamp.  One lousy little stamp.

(You don't know this, but I hate mail.  In every way, shape and form.  Including stamps.  One more thing to keep track of.)

So I bought a book of stamps today, something I do about once a year.

Yup, you know it: 

I purchased an entire book and the cost of postage is going up two cents.

On Monday.

Life Is Like a Box of Pasta

Please pardon the obscene amount of Word Barfing tonight.

(someone is feeling a little bottled up)

After having a pretty crummy Wednesday, I needed some 'therapy', and what better way (after consuming a ton of chocolate) than to break in the new Ravioli Cutter.

Even taking it out of the box was theraputic - can you say bubble wrap?

Without a lot of time, and without the family recipe, I just threw together some ingredients for the filling: hamburger, sausage, sage, spinach, and some salt and pepper.

My first batch of ravioli turned out pretty well. Not near as spinach-y as our regular ones, but it passed The Test. The whole family ate them. Even Isaac.

Over on the terminally ill computer is a list that I've compiled of other ravioli recipes that I'm anxious to try. In my Forest Gump voice: Mushroom ravioli, shrimp ravioli, butternut squash ravioli...

Stay tuned!