Kitchen Sink Sangria.

No, I didn't mix it in the kitchen sink.  It ain't hooch, and this ain't college.

I called it that because I put in everything but the kitchen sink.

It was yummy, and it made me more than a little tipsy.

This isn't a recipe so much as a method, so be creative.  Hate apples? Leave 'em out?  Have a bunch of blueberries in the fridge about to go bad?  Toss 'em in.  You get the picture...

WHAT YOU NEED:
1 bottle of red wine.  The cheap kind.  The $3.99 special.  It doesn't matter what kind.  Just get something that you don't hate the taste of.
2 shots brandy.  I used cherry flavored brandy in this, because I had some left over from making a Black Forest Cake.  Use what you have.
2 shots Chambord.  Or not.  RJ loves this stuff and it did give the whole thing a bit of a raspberry undertone.  Doesn't that sound sophisticated?
1 cup of orange juice.
1/2 cup lime or lemon juice.  I used Rose's Sweetened Lime Juice.
1/4 cup sugar.  Or a bit less if you prefer it a bit tart.
2 cans ginger ale, club soda or Sprite.  Club soda if you don't like sweet, ginger ale for sorta sweet, and Sprite for the sweetest of all.
Fruit, either fresh or frozen.  I used orange slices, lime slices, apples, a really old plum that was hanging out in my fridge, frozen peaches and frozen strawberries.


WHAT YOU DO:
Mix the wine, brandy, Chambord, oj, lime juice and sugar in a pitcher.  Cut up and add the fruit. Give it a big ole stir, cover it and put it in the fridge for at least 2 hours before serving.  This gives it time to absorb the flavors of the fruit and just get really good and yummy.  You could make it first thing in the morning to have with dinner.  Or make it the night before and let it set overnight if you are going to drink it for breakfast.  Hey, it has fruit in it.  Don't judge me, I won't judge you.

Add the ginger ale or club soda or sprite just before serving, and serve it in a really big glass over ice so you won't have to keep running back to the pitcher.   Because you might fall down.  It's stronger that it tastes.

A performance evaluation of my first 60 days of being a stay at home Mama.

Exactly two months ago today, I worked my last shift as a store manager at a major retail bookstore.  I'm not really sure what I expected the stay at home Mama gig to be like.  I had worked more than full time for my entire adult life, so this was a bit of a departure, to say the least.  In my former life as a retail manager, most of what I did revolved around providing and receiving constant followup and feedback, so I felt like a performance evaluation for the past two months was in order.  Sixty days is usually a pretty standard probationary period, right?




Areas of Strength:
Mj, since becoming a stay at home Mama (SAHMama), you have clearly excelled in Facebook, Twitter, Digg, and other internet related pastimes.  Your  devotion to your iPhone and iPad are also noted.  Your skills in wasting time on the internet internet navigation have improved dramatically.  Also, it is notable that you have become a powerhouse in Words with Friends.  Thank your for your willingness to spend countless hours improving your vocabulary.  

Mj, thank you for your attention to your toenails.  Your new interest in painting them all the colors of the rainbow shows a creativity that had been previously untapped.  Also, your newfound interest in shopping for girly clothes and cute shoes, while fiscally challenging for the J household, shows great potential in the "Getting Out of the Frumpy" category.  Your interest in treadmill running, while short lived, shows a desire for self improvement, which is a desirable trait for a SAHMama.

Also, it is noted that you have a new interest in setting foot outside the house social interaction.  Your playdates with Natalie, Jennifer, Jenny and Jenna, as well as your willingness to go on dates with RJ, take the children to the park, go out to eat, and go bowling show a willingness to change your previously hermit-like ways.  Continue to hone this skill, as it will serve you well in this position.


Areas of Opportunity:
Mj, since assuming the posiition of SAHMama, your housekeeping skills have not improved and are not to standards.  While it is noted that you clean house more often, your inability to maintain this cleanliness is an ongoing issue.  Also, your inability to keep the appropriate laundry washed so that RJ can wear the correct colored shirt to work on the correct day has been addressed previously, and no improvements have been made.  You must make immediate and sustained improvements in this area.  Also, your desire to take on micro tasks (like alphabetizing the spice drawer) in lieu of more practical ones (like cleaning the bathroom) has caused your overall productivity to suffer.

Another area requiring attention is in the area of personal hygiene.  While it is noted above that you have taken a renewed interest in maintaining your appearance, a solid foundation (i.e. showering and hair brushing daily) is necessary in order to maintain standards in this area.



Summary:
Mj, in conclusion, your performance as a SAHMama has had some bright spots but some work remains to be done.  It is noted that this entire endeavor has been a stretch assignment for you; therefore, a second sixty day probationary will be granted with regular and ongoing performance evaluations to follow, and a formal action plan will ensue.

Cowboy movies.

In my previous life as a retail manager of a large chain bookstore, there were a lot of meetings.

A. Lot. Of. Meetings.

Meetings for the staff.

Meetings for the management team.

Meetings for the store managers.

Meetings.  Meetings.  Meetings.

One of the most notable meetings was the annual store managers conference, held in the fall each year.  It was usually a four day drunken affair with interesting sponsorship - "This omelet breakfast brought to you by the people who service your light bulbs!" - fascinating speakers (Lemony Snicket was my all-time favorite) and authors and publishers galore.

One entire day we would be carted around, thousands of bookstore managers, into small rooms where book publishers and movie and music producers would provide a fascinating slide show presentation of what would be out in time for the upcoming holiday season.  What!?!? James Patterson has a new book coming out??!?!  I can't believe it!!!   If we were really, really, really lucky, sometimes there would be a movie trailer.

On this particular day, we were so lucky.

The lights dimmed, and a movie trailer began.  It showed sweeping scenes of the West, men on horseback, men with cowboy hats... you get the idea.

My boss at the time, let's call him Bossman P, was sitting in the row behind me.  

There are a couple things you need to know about Bossman P.  First, he was never able to be quiet.   He mumbled pretty much incessantly.  About anything.  About nothing.  Words poured forth from his mouth at an amazing and alarming rate all the time.  Second, he was a conservative.  And he was really, really, really passionate about his conservatism.  Not only was he conservative, but he was something of a closet racist as well.  He would often refer to groups of people as "The Whatevers."  You know, like "The Mexicans" or "The Gays" or whatever.  Like they were all on the same baseball team or something.

So anyway, this movie trailer starts up, and Bossman P starts mumbling.  "I love cowboy movies." "Clint Eastwood made good westerns." "I used to watch westerns with my dad when I was growing up." "I sure do love cowboy movies." "There just aren't enough good cowboy movies being made any more." 

At this point, the rest of us had gotten something of a CLUE that this wasn't just a great cowboy movie.  

Bossman P, never one to be particularly observant, did not.

"That guy, he looks like a real cowboy."  "Some of the westerns being made aren't all that authentic.  This one looks authentic."  "They sure don't make cowboy movies like they used to."  And on. And on. And on.

I looked at my friend Jen who was sitting beside me, and we both burst out laughing.  It was like a contagious disease at this point.  The laughter began to spread.  First to those sitting closest to us, and then to the next row back, where Bossman P was still waxing poetic about cowboy movies.

Pretty soon, pretty much the whole room was rolling with laughter, except the presenters, who looked quite confused - it wasn't a comedy, for goodness sake - and Bossman P, who kept talking about what makes a cowboy movie a good cowboy movie.  Finally, toward the end of the movie trailer, Bossman P got it.  

And...

Abrupt dead silence.

He was right about one thing, though.  Good cowboy movies are hard to find.

A Possum Story.

The other day, I got an email from my Sis B.  It said, in it's entirety, "If you need something to blog about, ask S (our other sister) about the possum on her porch."

So I did what every good sis would.  I jumped on Facebook and posted a message on her wall.  "I hear you may have a good story about a possum."

Days pass.  Nothing.  No response from my Sis S.  A couple of our equally redneck cousins commented, asking her to hurry up and tell the story already, but still nothing.  Sis S is not known for her... ahem... punctuality...

Anyway, today my Sis B called me to tell me another long and equally complicated and redneck-y story about an air conditioner, and while I had her on the phone, I asked her about the possum.

This is a story told about tenth hand, so all mistakes and embellishments are my own.  Sis - you had your shot to tell it as the truth.  Now it will just be legend...

Late one evening last week, my Sis S and Niece K were coming home from a day of shopping.  It was late in the evening, as it often is when they get home, and Niece K was carting dinner - a bucket of chicken - into the house.

It was dark, and the only light was from the single bulb on the front of the house.  As Niece K approached the porch, perilously clutching the bucket of chicken, when she heard a noise.  It was something like a growl, something like a hiss, and altogether BAD NEWS.

Apparently, a possum had made its way onto their front porch and had somehow gotten its foot stuck in the boards that made up the porch.  Possum stuck = Angry Possum.  It was hissing and growling and really, really inconvenienced.

Now, possums aren't pretty on their best day, but this possum was MAD.  At this point, options were slim.  It was late, they were tired, they were hungry... oh wait.  They had the bucket of chicken with them.  Chicken legs in hand, they debated what to do.

Finally, it occurred to one of them that my brother-in-law D was inside.  They were outside, trapped by the possum, but... THEY HAD A CELL PHONE.

"Ring.  Ring. Ring."

B-in-L D answered.  "Yeah."  That's how he always answers the phone.

Sis S: "D, can you come outside for a minute?"

B-in-L D: "What the H!@*#$)(.  I was asleep.  What the #*%&)# do you need me to come outside for?"

Sis S: "D, just come out here."

So after much stumbling and grumbling, D wanders out, to be met by... Mad Possum.  

Possum had enough range of motion to turn around and hiss and growl at D, too.  Talented Possum.

I'm not totally sure of the exact order of events at this point.  I know that it involved a broomstick, some squealing and a LOT of cussing.  But B-in-L D managed to free the possum and Sis S and Niece K made it inside, safe and sound.  Just another night in redneck country...

No possums were harmed in the telling of this story.

Cute Shoes.

So as you may remember, I quit my job a few weeks back.  Or you may not remember.  Hell, you probably don't even care.  But I did, and that's the first part of this story.  Are you having a hard time keeping up?  Well, so am I.  Brilliance like this ain't easy, you know...

Anyway, back to my shoes.  

One of the strangest things has happened as a consequence of the aforementioned job abandonment.  Something I could have never imagined.  I have suddenly become interested in shopping.  For clothes.  And shoes.  And cute, girly, frilly things.  It's really, really bizarre.  

Of course, now that we're down to one income, I can't really afford it, which figures...

But here's what happened.  A few weeks ago I was out of my house and in a store that had clothes.  I was wandering around and suddenly I realized that for the first time in over 16 years, I did not have to look at practical work clothes.  I could look at cute clothes, because I no longer go to work.

Here's some background on that.  For the past 16 years or so, I have worn black pants, comfortable (and UGLY) shoes, and some sort of shirt that wouldn't show book dust too terribly badly.  That was all I ever shopped for.  Practical stuff.  Ugly stuff.  Crocs.  Rinse.  Repeat.

As I was walking around, it was like a whole new world of clothes had opened up to me.  Colorful stuff that doesn't match black pants? I could wear that!  Dresses? GASP!  I bought two last week.  Cute shoes?  I NEED some cute shoes!!!!  I no longer have to stand on concrete floors for ten hour shifts, so practical just isn't practical any more...  

This post is a final farewell to all the practical clothes and shoes in my wardrobe.  

I don't need you any more.

I'm breaking up with you.

You are no longer an important part of my life.

Of course, I'm going to look like a crazy person walking around my house all day in red high heels.

Whatever.  Don't judge me.

This has been a long time coming.

Adjectives.

My sis B called me this afternoon.

B:  "I have something important to tell you."

Me: "OK, go for it."

B: "Well, according to Mama, who heard it from D (our brother-in-law), girls are maturing faster now than they ever have."

Me: "Umm, ok.  Good to know."

B: "And there's more.  It's because of all the adjectives in food nowadays.  At least that's what your Mother said that D said."

I knew those adjectives were bad news.  I prefer a good adverb any day.  

Picniking again.

Mama Kat at Mama Kat's Losin' It told me to post some pictures of my kids.  Really she did.  Also, I promised in my last post that I would post cute pictures of my kids.  Also, I am addicted to Picnik and I can't stop doing cute things to cute pictures of my kids.  So there.

This is  totally justified on many, many, many levels.

Oh, and I still have nothing of any real interest to say.

And thanks to Dianna at The Kennedy Adventures for suggesting Mama Kat to me.

And these pictures weren't taken this weekend, which is cheating.  I always like to admit my faults up front.

That is all.

Oh dear. I can't think of a thing to say.

So, it appears that I've become Muse-less lately (Damn Muse.  Where are ya when I need ya?).  Apparently, my life has become rather boring, my kids have ceased to be funny and/or cute, and there is no news fit to report at 154 Hidden Court.  For a while I resorted to writing stories about my childhood, but I can only go all Laura Ingalls up in here for a little while before it starts to get a bit stale.  Plus, my inner farm girl is also hiding at the moment, presumably under the extra 20 pounds I'm carrying and have no hope of ever losing since my treadmill tried to kill me.

Anyway, I did what all good bloggers do when stumped for an idea.  I Googled "blog post ideas" and decided that I would pick the least worst one.  After wading through ideas like "write about what your definition of love is" and "write a blog post about your most recent date" and "write a blog post about that one time that you got abducted by aliens" I found an idea that wasn't too terrible.  The suggestion was "write a blog post on current news happenings."  I'm informed.  I'm well read.  I can surely do this.

So...

I pull up CNN.  Here is just a smattering of the current news making headlines around the world.

Gunman to 911: Wish I shot more -  This is a terrible story about a gunman who shot up a bunch of people, called 911, and said he wished he had been able to shoot more people.  Uplifting.


State Dept.: Al Qaeda still No. 1 threat - Oh really?  I thought maybe that was all better now.  Thanks for the update.


19 states warned about deadly heat - well, it was 109 degrees yesterday...


Zakaria: Iraq war wasn't worth it - No. Shit.


Ovulating women buy sexier clothes - that's good to know.  Remind me NOT to go shopping then.  


7 water bottles found in dead gator - Really?  Who's the schmuck who checked?


Born to be fat? - Oh good.  It's not my fault.  Where are my Cheetos?


Obama celebrates birthday with Oprah - But of course.  Where else would he be?


The phone with the most apps wins - My iphone has been ordered and will arrive next week.  I could have told you that.



So, now we're all more enlightened.

Thank goodness.

And I promise, I'll take some pics of the kids doing cute stuff to post next time.