I remember when Halloween was one day, not a month-long affair.

When I was a kid, Halloween lasted exactly one day.

Now don't get me wrong, we were able to cram a whole lot into that one day.  We got to dress up at school.  We had cupcakes in class.  We went to a party at church.  We trick-or-treated.  All of these things were accomplished with whatever do-it-yourself costume you could dream up.  I was a hobo for seven years running because it was always easy to find ratty old clothes with holes in them and tie a handkerchief to a stick.  It was great fun.

But it was one day.

One. Day.

My kids have been celebrating Halloween for the better part of two weeks now.

It has included multiple outings, more candy than we can possibly eat in a year, and - I kid you not - costume changes.

Way back when, like in September or something, zj told me he wanted to be the Green Lantern.

Ok.

Costume ordered.

We learned the Green Lantern Oath.



As the day approached, we carved pumpkins.

And yes, it is clear that I am a superior pumpkin carver.  So what if I was so grumpy by the time I was finished that my children were terrorized and I was drinking vodka straight from the bottle.  They. Are. Freakin'. Cool.

We took the kids to The World's Largest Halloween Party at The Louisville Zoo.

We took the kids to the local Trunk or Treat.  Zj decided to be Batman for this one.  It's ok.  We have a lot of costumes.  

We took the kids trick or treating at Granny's house.

And then, finally, it was Halloween night and time to go trick or treating, like, for real. 

We did our usual and walked the kids around our neighborhood, collecting candy and passing time with the neighbors.  I though it would never end and oh dear God I need a drink.  The kids had a blast.

Here are the spoils:

Actually, please ignore the bottle of UV vodka in the photo.  We did not get that while trick or treating.  I bought that. To replace the one I drank while carving pumpkins.  

We even got these really cool homemade suckers that we can't eat because of, you know, razor blades and pcp.

But it's November 1, and it's over.

Till next year.

Now, on to Christmas.

Shit.

The one where I accidentially get a new hairdresser.

I have hairy children.

It may be because I am fairly hairy myself.

Both the boys came out of the womb with a full head of hair, which never fell out and just kept growing.

I cut cj's hair the first time when he was about eight months old, and I have been trimming it ever since.

But, truth be told, cutting hair is not really my strong suit.

So, we took both boys to the barber shop a few weeks ago for a trim for zj and for cj's first big boy haircut.

RJ and zj have been going to the same barbershop for years.  So of course, that's where we took cj, too.

I sat in the barber chair and held him.  The wife of zj's regular barber was scheduled to cut cj's hair.  His cut went off without a hitch.  He was patient, and good, and she was great with him.  And somehow, as I was sitting there holding cj for his haircut, she started messing with my hair.  Before I knew it, she had flatironed me.  The next thing that I knew, she was lecturing me about how it was a bad idea to buy your shampoo the same place you bought your groceries.  She is sort of loud, and very opinionated, and vaguely scary.  By the time I woke up, I had an appointment scheduled for the following week for what she called "The Works."  Whatever that might mean.  She told me in no uncertain terms that I was to call at least a day in advance if I needed to reschedule (canceling was not mentioned as an option) as she was going to block out most of the day for me.  According to her "we had a lot of work to do."

I went to my scheduled appointment because I was afraid not to. When I walked in the door she patted her chair and said threateningly "I've been looking forward to this."

Gulp.

She immediately started showing me some hair colors in a magazine.  As I tentatively pointed out a couple I liked, she said things like "No, too light"  or "No, too dark" or sometimes just "No"with no explanation.  Finally she sighed dramatically, grabbed the magazines out of my hand, and said "You just sit here.  I'll figure something out."

Ummm, ok?

She chose a color for me - "Don't worry.  It will look dark at first.  It will lighten up in a couple of weeks.  You will like it."  As the color was marinating, she spun my chair around, laid it back, and said "Now, time to work on those brows."

Ummm, ok?

"You wear them natural" - a statement, not a question.  "Ummm, yes?" I answered, not though my answer really held any weight.

As she began to work on my face, she started pointing out a few other things to me as well.  "Your mustache needs some work."  "Ummm, ok?"  "And your chin." "Ummm, ok?"  She proceeded to wax my entire face.  As she was pouring hot wax on my eyelids, I gasped, "I didn't know people had hair on their eyelids."  "You do" was the response.

Ummm, ok?

Anyway, waxing complete, hair rinsed, we moved on to the cut.

After asking me several questions about my hair - bangs, stacks, a-lines, and a bunch of other hair terms I could only barely grasp - she once again proceeded to do exactly what she wanted.

A quick dry and flatiron later - "You MUST go buy a flatiron today." "Yes, ma'am." - she allowed me to put on my glasses and see the finished product.

And...

I loved it.

My hair looks healthy and shiny and smooth and better than it has in many, many years.

I love it.

As I was leaving, she took my phone number.  "Just in case you forget to call and make an appointment," she warned.

But I will call.

I can't wait till the next time she abuses me does my hair.

She is scary, and she is awesome.

I love her.

Superhero Tuesday.

Hi.  I'm a Marvel.

And I'm a DC.

Any questions?

Chicken Tortilla Soup - Because it's fall, silly.

It is soup weather, people.

Finally.

Of course, it would be slightly better if it rained.  You know, like it did that one day in May.

Whatever.

Get yourself to Kroger and buy these ingredients.

WHAT YOU NEED:

1 onion, diced

3 ribs of celery, diced

1 green pepper, diced

1 teaspoon of olive oil

1 can chicken broth

1 can black beans, rinsed and drained

1 can diced tomatoes with chopped green chilies (like Rotel)

 1 can fiesta corn - you know, the kind with red pepper bits in it

1 cup cooked diced chicken.  You can a) cook and dice your own, b) use a rotisserie chicken or c) use a pack of Oscar Meyer Carving Board Rotisserie Chicken.  I got a good deal on about a million packages of this, and I have used it in everything.  Trust me.  It's good.

2 -3 cups of water

1 teaspoon cumin

1 teaspoon chili powder

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

1 teaspoon Italian seasoning blend

WHAT YOU DO:

Saute the first four ingredients in a saucepan over medium heat until the onions are translucent.

Then - and here's the complicated part, so pay attention - put everything in a crockpot on low for several hours.  Anywhere between three hours and forever ought to do it.

Serve it with crushed tortilla chips on top.  

Girls' Getaway, or why hooker shoes are really just for hookers.

My friend Natalie and I took off on a wild adventure to Nashville this past week.

Actually, it wasn't very wild.

And it wasn't incredibly adventuresome.

But we did have a great time.

Long ago, Nat and I lived in the same city and worked in the same place.  We saw each other every day, one way or the other.  We spent our time together shopping, eating, shopping, making things out of beads and wire, shopping, drinking, writing business plans, drinking and shopping.

About nine years ago, I moved away.

We saw each other less and less, but scheduled regular phone dates.

Then we both had kids, and houses, and promotions at our jobs, and long distance friendships are hard.  Really hard.  But we kept plugging away at it.  Whenever we did get together, was very kid-centric.  Sometimes weeks would pass without having a conversation, but every time the phone rang, we would pick back up just like we were talking fifteen minutes ago.  She's that kind of friend.

Since I quit my job a few months ago, I've found myself with a bit more free time on my hands, and Natalie and I decided that it was way past time for a girls' getaway.  In typical me fashion, I did not care where we went, what we did, how long we stayed, or where we ate while there.  In typical her fashion, she made great suggestions that at some point I came to believe were my idea.

I got tickets for a show.  We love us some Boo Radley.

Nat booked us a hotel room.

We were set.

We spent the first day shopping and shopping eating at The Cheesecake Factory and shopping.  We both have a Pandora addiction that may require professional intervention at some point.

We checked into the hotel.  The photo at the top of the post was our view from the hotel room.  I'm still not completely recovered from that one time that Willie cut his hair but I still love ya, Willie.  Deep down where it counts.

Anyway, we got ready for the play.  Nat looked lovely in her black and red dress and matching hooker shoes red high heels.  I have troll feet.  I cannot wear cute shoes, especially heels.  So I only looked good from the calves up.  Whatever.  We took off walking the 12 or so blocks from the hotel to the Performing Arts Center.  

At about block three, Nat was slowing down.  By block six, she was limping.  By block eight, she was weeping from the gigantic blister the hooker shoes cute red shoes had left on her foot.

The play was great.  The actor playing Atticus was excellent.  The actor playing the sheriff looked exactly like a former boss of mine, and every time he was on stage I expected him to start yelling "Membership equals sales!" or to have everyone in the audience line up to high-five each other.  

After the play, we took a cab to The Melting Pot (Yum!), and then went back to the hotel for the evening so we could play games on our iPhones.  We're just not the party girls we used to be, I guess.

The next morning, I texted RJ to see how everything was going at home. His response:

"Cj and I had a bit of a rough night.  Zj slept fine."

I offered my condolences, and his reply was:

"If it makes you feel any better, he was often screaming for you at the top of his lungs.  Also, he threw his doll at me."

Hmmm...  Uh, sorry?

But there was more shopping to do.  I couldn't be distracted.  

We spent the second day shopping and shopping and eating at Red Robin and shopping.  Did I mention that we both have a Pandora addiction?

On the way home, we decided to do it again next year.  

Then we amended it to twice a year.

Spring shopping extravaganza plans to be determined.

Texting with my Sis.

My Sis B and I came pretty late to the texting game.  

Being simple farm girls, we believed phones to be for - GASP! - talking.

However, in the past six months, we have both gotten new, text-savvy phones (Oh, how I love you, my iPhone) and the texting, while slow to start, has gained momentum this month.

This is important stuff, people.  Pay attention.

Also, it's important to note that my Sis B is a rabid yard saler, and takes my Mama almost every weekend, come rain or shine or snow...

Also, we do spell everything out and punctuate correctly.  We are nerds.  Deal with it.

Also, she will probably never text me again after reading this.  Just sayin'

October 1, 2010 4:32pm

ME: Any good finds today? 

B: Not a lot, but we didn't stay out long.  Mama found a table for a dollar.  That was pretty good.

B: Oh, and two hula hoops.

ME: We don't need any hula hoops.

B: Neither does she.

B: Oh, and I found a man.  I didn't get his name, though.

ME: Oh dear.  Did you at least get his number?

B: No.  It was a short romance.  Ended when I went to the bathroom.

ME: Oh dear...

B: It's ok.  I just loved him a little.

October 2, 2010 6:49am

ME: I was thinking about making a Sonic run before I meet you guys today.  You kids need anything?

B: They don't open until 9:00.

ME: 9? Really?

B: Yeah. Really. Don't ask me how many times I got there at 6:30 before I figured it out.  Remember, I had to study harder in school.

October 3, 2010 11:32am

ME: You kids yard saleing today?

B: Yep.

ME: Kinda cold.

B: Yep.
B: We're in Lewisport.  Kinda cold.

ME: Finding anything?

B: Not much.
B: Got a free camera though.  I must look bad or something.

ME: It's probably your hair.

ME: I ran into D (former boyfriend's sister) today.

B: Did she recognize you?

ME: No.  She kept looking at me like she thought she should know me, but I was so busy twitching my face around and trying to avert my gaze from M (former boyfriend's mother) that she probably thought she remembered me from drug court or something.

B: Was she in drug court?

ME: Who knows?  But I really didn't want to spend the afternoon playing catchup with them. 

ME: You understand, right?

ME: It would be like you catching up with the B family (her former boyfriend's family), except these people aren't all dead like the B's are.

B: I did see him (her former boyfriend) that one time...

ME: He sure was hot.

ME: And such a gifted musician.

ME: It's a shame about that leg, though...

B: I know.  I can't believe I let him get away.

October 8, 2010 8:33am

ME: Mama said you needed to do some work in your garden but you hadn't done it yet.

B: I'll do it today.

ME: When?

B: I'll do it today.  This afternoon.  I promise.
B: If not today, I'll do it this weekend.

ME: You're running out of time.  Your vacation is almost over.

B: I still have Sunday afternoon.

ME: Isn't Monday some made up holiday?

B: Yes, but I have to get my eyes checked that day. I. Have. To.


October 9, 2010 5:00pm

ME: What time are you going to get here to pick these kids up?

ME: Soon, I hope.

B: Oops.  Did I forget something?

ME: Yep, you're late.  Better hurry.

ME: I can't believe you forgot.  I've been telling the boys all day that Aunt B would be here at 5.  They will be so disappointed.

B: They will be disappointed?

ME: Devastated.  If you leave now you can make it by 6.

October 9, 2010. 5:44pm

B: I just boiled an egg for Mama.

ME: How did that go?

B: Good, thanks.

October 10, 2010 1:59pm

ME: If you would like to come hold my baby on your lap indefinitely, I will do your gardening.

B: Hmmm. I Might do that.

ME: When can I expect you? He's getting heavy.

October 11, 2010 8:32am

ME: Are you en route to get your eyes checked? If not, you better get going.

B: No, I've almost decided to wait till tomorrow after work.  I hate to leave the comfort of home.

ME: No no no no.  You said you have to.  Get your ass up and do it.  Btw, how's your garden?

B: I like being at home. Really. Garden is not done yet.

ME: I cannot abide a lazy person.

B: I'll get some work done today.  I promise.  I might wash the house again.  Stupid dead bugs.

ME: It's your last day off.  Try to be productive and not waste it.

B: Thanks for the reminder.

ME: I'm here to help in any way possible.

B: Yeah, I've noticed that.

October 11, 2010 11:03am

ME: I may need an intervention.  I can't stop buying cute clothes online.

B: Does RJ know you are spending the grocery money on clothes?

ME: He's still eating.  He doesn't need to know.

B: And that you're online all day when you should be watching his kids while he's hard at work?

ME: I shop from my phone.  Cj is on my lap right now.

ME: Maybe I need a pool boy.

B: Make sure he doesn't speak English.  I hear that's the best kind.

ME: I don't take with foreigners.

B: I heard about that.

October 12, 2010 6:29pm

ME: How are your eyes?

B: Oh, I put it off again and got a haircut instead.

October 14, 2010 5:35pm

B: Are we still speaking?  If not, please disregard this message.

ME: Yep.  But I was afraid your eyes had rotted out so I haven't texted you lately.

B: I'm going tomorrow.  Really.

October 15, 2010 6:28pm

B: Eye exam. Check. Was just a little rotten.  Not very much.

ME: Oh good.  I was getting worried.  I really don't want you to go blind.  Because then we'll have to put Mama in a home.  And they don't have yardsales in homes.

Triple Chocolate Threat - A Tipsy Cake.

I know, I know.  I need to work on my food photography skills.  This photo was taken with my iPhone literally seconds before the cake went out the door to RJ's work.  Because I forgot to do it before.  Oops.  Maybe I need to work on my memory, too.

Ok, so there's cake, then there's CAKE.

This cake has three kinds of chocolate, two kinds of liquor, and does not require much measuring.

That's CAKE, baby.


WHAT YOU NEED:
1 box white cake mix
1 cup Creme de cacao
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup mini dark chocolate chips
3 egg whites
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 small box vanilla pudding mix

1/3 cup Godiva White Chocolate Liqueur
6 baker's white chocolate squares

1 can prepared milk chocolate frosting

WHAT YOU DO:
Preheat your oven to 425 degrees and grease two round 8 inch cake pans.  Or really, use what you have.   I'm not going to come and check.

Mix the first seven ingredients with a mixer until it's not lumpy.  You're probably looking at about 2-3 minutes of mixing, which is just enough time to taste test both the liqueurs.  Twice.

Pour half of the batter into one pan, and half into the other.  Put it in the oven and bake it for approximately 40 minutes, or until it's done.  It's cake.  You know when it's done, right?

After the cake cools, melt the white chocolate squares in the microwave, stirring frequently.  When the chocolate is completely melted, SLOWLY whisk in the white chocolate liqueur.  If you pour it all in at once, like I did the first time, it will be a big clumpy mess that you will be forced to eat with a spoon, so as not to, you know, be wasteful.

Spread the white chocolate goodness on the bottom layer of cake, and top it with the other layer.

Frost it with the milk chocolate frosting straight from the can.

Send it off with your husband to work, after which you will hear tales of it's delightfulness, but will never, ever, ever get to try it for yourself.

Because it's rude to eat a big piece out of your cake before you send it somewhere.

The real me.

This post is part of the Writer's Workshop from Mama Kat from Mama's Losing It.  If you don't know Mama Kat (which I can't imagine is even possible), head on over to her blog and check her out.  But not in a creepy, I wanna lick your toes kind of way.  In a nice, I wanna read your cool blog kind of way.

I hate to have my photo taken.

This has not always been the case.

When I was a teenager, my friend Amy and I would dress each other up like baby hookers and do each other's makeup like baby hookers and take roll after roll after roll of pictures of each other using our trusty 110 camera.  We would then send the film off in the mail and wait anxiously for them to be developed and returned.  There wasn't much to do where I grew up.  For real.

Somewhere along the way, I lost interest in being photographed.

And some time after that, I started to loathe it.

I can't pinpoint an exact time or even time frame that this change occurred.  I just know that there are some pictures of me and RJ early on in our relationship, but none in the past few years.  And there are only a handful of pictures of me with zj, and only two known photos of me and cj.  One is below, and the other was taken by my friend Natalie last week.

The photo I use for my blog and for my profile picture on several other social sites has a book covering up half my face.  While I did it to be funny, I also did it so as not to have to put my picture out there, repeatedly, for the world to see.  I'm not sure why, exactly.  I'm not hideously deformed, I have all my teeth, and a semi-regular waxing keeps the mustache under control.  But still, I avoid having my photo taken.

When I read the writing prompts at Mama Kat's for the week, my mind immediately dismissed number four.  Because that prompt said "share a photo that represents how you see yourself."  For some reason, the words "share" "photo" and "yourself," when used in the same sentence, creates a vortex in my field of vision.

But I kept coming back to it.

So I decided to do it.

RJ snapped this pic of me a few months ago, and for once I didn't grab the camera and delete it.

Because this is how I really see myself.

Sending the kids to the sitter to run errands: priceless.

The number of things I needed at the grocery today: 4

The number of children who accompanied me to the grocery: 2

The number of things I bought at the grocery: 39

The number of things zj put in my cart without my knowledge: 8

The number of things zj put in my cart without my knowledge that were branded with a cartoon character: 7

The total amount I spent: $125

The number of times I said "Zj, please don't touch that": 6,113

The number of times I said "Zj, please put that back": 4,359

The number of times I said : "Zj, please don't climb on that": 3,760

The number of times I said the generic "Zj, please stop" 11,456

The number of times I looked at or interacted with cj during the entire trip:  2

The number of strangers who looked at me with a mixture of amusement/pity/scorn/relief that they were alone: 46

The number of gift cards that zj knocked off a display rack: 368

The number of employees it took to clean up the gift cards: 2

The cost of sending the kids to the sitter so I can run errands: priceless.

Who is responsible for teaching these children to talk, anyway? Because in retrospect, it seems like a really bad idea.

A few weeks ago, I had a yard sale.

But that's only a small part of this story but I'm a sucker to link to my own blog posts like that.

This story actually begins right after the yard sale had ended.

The kids and I were home, trying to recover from a day of haggling over my junk with my neighbors and trying to get myself ready for a date night (out to eat, which will become important later), when the doorbell rang.

Here's a little background for you.  Until a year or so ago, whenever the doorbell rang, I usually ignored it.  If I didn't invite you, I probably don't want to see you.  It's beautiful in its simplicity, no?  But once zj got old enough to walk, and talk, and have opinions, he has welcomed the thought of random strangers in our house.  He greets the UPS man, the Jehovah's Witnesses and the magazine subscription salespeople with equal enthusiasm.  Much to my dismay.

On this particular day, when the doorbell rang, I immediately ran in the opposite direction, toward zj, in hopes of intercepting him before he opened the door.  But he's quick for a little guy.

He opened the door to a well-dressed, well-spoken young lady, who addressed him. "Are you the gentleman of the house?"

By this point I had put on a bra made my way to the door, and I was greeted with equal respect.  "And you must be the lady of the house."

Pleasantries about the neighborhood, the weather, and zj were exchanged, then she got to the heart of her visit.

Lovely saleslady: "For just $29.99, you can buy these coupons to Restaurant X, which entitle you to half of your purchase yada yada yada blah blah blah..."

Mj: "Oh thanks for the offer, but we don't really eat out all that much."

Zj: "Mama, isn't that where you're going tonight?"

Mj: "No honey, we are going to a different place, but we don't go out very often..."

Lovely saleslady: "But of course you have a full year to use all these fabulous coupons and yada yada yada blah blah blah..."

Mj: "Thanks anyway, but I really don't want to spend the money on that sort of thing right now."

Zj (directed at Lovely Saleslady): "My Mama had a yard sale today and made LOTS and LOTS of money.  She has so many dollars I can't count that high.  And I can count weally, weally, weally high.  See? One, two, three, mufleblargsmush" as my hand goes over his mouth and I start dragging him back into the house.


Mj: "Thanks anyway and I think our neighbors across the street eat out a lot and thanks anyway and" -  slams door.

Beer Snob.

I love beer.

It is my spirit of choice.

I don't mind an occasional fruity drink, but beer is my stand-by.

My go-to.

And over the years, I have become something of a beer snob.

In my humble opinion, there are exactly three reasons to drink a domestic light beer.  1) You are at a bowling alley and that is the only selection. 2) You are at some beer-uninformed person's home and that is the only selection.  3) You are already drunk.

Really, it just doesn't taste good, so why drink it?

But recently, for reasons I will not go into here, a case of Bud Light Lime came into my life.  And since it is a deadly sin to waste beer (Seriously.  Look it up if you don't believe me.), I cracked open a bottle and steeled myself for the worst.

But... It was... good?

Like, really good?

Like, I'm gonna keep drinking this stuff because it tastes really good in my mouth and it only has 116 calories in a bottle.

Who knew  such miracles were even possible?


This is not a paid endorsement of any kind.  The nice folks at Anheuser-Busch took out a restraining order have not had time to return my numerous, lengthy calls or e-mails.  But I forgive them.  They are clearly doing important work and can't be bothered with me.

Back in the saddle again. Or whatever.

A few months ago my treadmill tried to kill me.  True story.

Anyway, I think I've tamed that sucker, and I'm back in the saddle.  Or on the treadmill.  You say tomato...

So, I've been at it regularly (like four or five times a week, EVERY WEEK), for about a month.

And...

I LOVE IT.

I obsess think about it all the time.

I like that I'm finally seeing some results.

Several people have commented that I look "good."  I guess that's as opposed to the "bad" that I previously looked.  And I'm down a size.  A whole size.  I like that part.  Only three more sizes to go...

The other day, as I was getting ready for bed, I felt a weird lump in my thigh.  I poked it.  Yep, a lump.  Oh dear God it's a tumor and who is going to raise my kids if I die and I hope I don't suffer and I want to see my kids grow up and... Oh.  Is that a... muscle?  Really?  Because previously, all that just jiggled...

So now I'm ready to put myself out there.  I'm ready to talk about my plans to both the people who read my blog all the online world.

Ok, here goes.

Ready?

I'm going to run a 5k.

Soon.

Like, in the spring.

That's soon, right?

I think I can totally do it.

People do that sort of healthy stuff all the time, right?

Right?

So here I go, putting it in writing and totally committing myself to it.

Because if you blog about something, it's like a contract.

And my other goal is not to embarrass myself when I do it.

I don't want to finish last.

That's all.

You can track my weekly progress on the sidebar.

Here goes nothing.

It's fall. Finally.

And I know the long, hot summer is officially over because we went to Jackson's Orchard with the Boddeker crew, minus Holly, plus one... long story.

Anyway, it was a fun day filled with caramel apples, hayrides, and everyone yelling "ZJ! COME HERE!" at the top of his or her voice.

At the end of the day, my friend Natalie and I high-fived each other because a) it was over and b) no one died or was irreparably harmed.

The whole "no irreparable harm" thing?  Yeah, that was in question a few times.  One of those times came right after this photo was taken, when zj ran as hard as he could and leaped off the end of this hay bale, which was approximately five feet high.  After I determined he would live, I asked him why he did that.  His answer?  "Mama, I was at the end of the way."

Indeed.

There were also a few near misses on the slide from hell, but again, it was an overall good outcome.

Natalie and I both went home and collapsed.

She texted me later to ask if we had fun.  I told her the kids had a blast, and she confirmed that her kids had, as well.

I asked her if she ever felt like she was ever at a totally different place than her kids were, given the different perspectives they always have.

She replied that it is because everything we do is to make sure they have fun.

Well, of course.

Then we firmed up our plans for a trip in a few weeks that will involve no children.

At all.

Instead, it will involve culture, food, wine, shopping, adult conversation, and wine.

More to come on that.

"Mama, Mama, is that a gowiwwa butt?"

So, we took the boys to the zoo the other day.

Mostly, it was enjoyable.

The weather was lovely.

Zj loved most of it.  I promise.  Even though he doesn't look like he's having much fun here, he really had a good time.  Really...

Cj loved endured most of it.

There were a few meltdowns, of course.

It's to be expected.

Most of the meltdowns, much to my surprise, came from cj.  He is usually the mild-mannered, go with the flow type, but not so much this day...

So, if you were at the Louisville Zoo on Friday, October 1, 2010 and you happened to be in the restrooms near the water park area around 12:45 pm and you happened to hear a small boy-child screaming an ear-piercing scream repeatedly, for many minutes, as he was being changed, I would like to extend my sincerest apologies.  I was not harming him in any way.   I was truly trying to help him by ridding him of the foul stench and gooey mess in his diaper.  In the very crowded restroom.  Which he took great exception to.  Again, my sincerest apologies to you all.

And if you happened to be on the carousel in the Louisville Zoo on October 1, 2010 at approximately 3:15 pm and you happened to hear a small boy-child screaming an ear-piercing scream repeatedly, for many minutes, I would again like to extend my sincerest apologies that your ride, which cost a buck and a half, was interrupted in such a way.  I would also like to point out that I am not usually one of those Mamas who forces her kids onto whatever ride or amusement is available just because it's there.  CJ showed great interest in the animals, so I believed that he might actually like to ride on one of them.  Clearly, it was a mistake on my part.  Sincere apologies all around.

But there were some high points as well.  

Like when zj asked me repeatedly, in his BEST OUTSIDE VOICE, if that was a "gowiwwa butt" he saw, and when I did not answer him quickly enough, began to inquire about said "gowiwwa butt" to all the other zoo patrons within shouting distance earshot.

The Dinosaur Exhibit was most awesome, and for zj, one of the highlights of the day.

In other news, we are planning to go back in a few weeks for The World's Largest Halloween Party.  

I'm a glutton for punishment, I guess.

Four Layer Bean Dip. Because sometimes you have to go to a pig roast.

And the pig roast is a potluck.

And you totally thought it was NEXT week.

And you haven't been to the grocery for weeks.

And did I mention it was a Pig Roast?

Anyway, sometimes you just have to make the best you can out of what you have.

So I threw together this bean dip and took along a bag of tortilla chips for good measure.

And yes, I know this is a terrible photo.  But what did you want me to do? Take a big serving out before the potluck and take a pretty picture of it and then show up with a half-eaten dish??? Or maybe you wanted me to wait until the first person dished some up and yell at them "HEY! STOP! I need to take a picture of that before you eat it!"  My options were limited here, people...

WHAT YOU NEED:

2 cans of refried beans (I buy the fat free kind because, you know, lard)

Either 1 pack of taco seasoning or 1 teaspoon each chili powder, cumin and garlic powder

1 can petite diced tomatoes

1 brick cream cheese, softened to room temperature

1 cup sour cream

1/3 cup taco sauce.  Ok, true confession time.  I did not have any taco sauce.  But what I did have, buried in the far corners of my glove compartment were several packets of sauce from Taco Bell.  I'm like Ma Ingalls - I use what I have and am thankful for it.  Or whatever.

One jar prepared chili con queso

One small can sliced olives

One small can green chilies

WHAT YOU DO:

Preheat your oven to 350ish.  Either in the microwave or in a pan on the stovetop, heat the beans and spices just enough to get it mixed and make it spreadable.  Spread this mixture in the bottom of a baking dish - something in the general realm of 9"x13" will be about right.  That's layer one.

Next, drain the juice from the can of diced tomatoes, and sprinkle them on top of the bean mixture.  Layer two, check.

For layer three, mix the cream cheese, sour cream and taco sauce together and spread it over the tomatoes and beans.  This is a bit of a challenge, because you don't to upset the tomatoes.  They're touchy, tomatoes are.

Finally, pour the queso dip over the sour cream mixture, and top it with the olives and chilies.  Bake it for 30 minutes or until it's hot and gooey, and serve it with tortilla chips and roast pig.