10 Minutes

Ten minutes...that's all the time it takes (probably even less) for my children to destroy nice things. For instance, I very carefully mopped the kitchen floor and within a matter of mere minutes, they had spilled food and drink, marring its pristine cleanness. Or this morning, I put on a brand new sweater. And in less than two minutes, someone rubbed greasy vitamin A+D ointment on the front...which effectively ruined the sweater--that stuff never comes out.

Sigh...I need to create a bubble of protection around the few things in my remaining that my children haven't destroyed...

Quickie Mexican Chicken con Queso

Hey there, dear readers...it's Thursday, late afternoon and you haven't planned a thing for dinner. Sound familiar? Here's a great quick and easy recipe I've come up with that you should be able to make with either items on hand (I have this stuff on hand) or a super-quick trip to the grocery store. And, as an added bonus, this tastes like you worked long and hard on it, when, in fact, it should only take about 20 minutes--if that.

Quickie Mexican Chicken con Queso (as described, this serves 3-- two adults plus a little leftover. This multiplies very well if you need to serve more)

You will need:

• 1 package Boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into small, bite-sized pieces. (I use the thin cut "great for scallopini" sized meat which is just right for 2 adults)
• 1 small can diced green chilies, with juices.
• 1 TB taco seasoning (I use Penzey's Chicken Taco Seasoning which I keep on hand)
• cream cheese (you'll need about 1/3 of a block, cut into smaller pieces)
• heavy cream (also called whipping cream) 1/2 to 3/4 cup
• monterey jack cheese (shredded--I use half of a standard 10 oz. block)
• 1 can "traditional" refried beans (optional side)
• instant rice (optional side)
• shredded lettuce (optional side)
• guacamole (make fresh or buy from the refrigerated section of your grocery store)

In a medium-sized skillet over medium heat--sprayed with Olive Oil--combine your first three ingredients. Saute the chicken until done.

While the chicken is cooking, use a 1.5 quart saucepan heat the 1/2 cup cream over medium heat. Add the cream cheese and stir (I use a small whisk) until the cream cheese is melted. Then add the shredded monterey jack cheese. Stir until all of the cheese is melted and the queso sauce is creamy. If it's too thick, add more cream--a little at a time--and stir. Turn heat to low/warm and stir occasionally until the chicken is thoroughly cooked.

If you are using any of the optional sides, prepare them now.

When the chicken is done, plate and pour the queso sauce on top. I usually serve it like this: Chicken served over the cooked rice with a serving of refried beans and a lettuce and guacamole salad on the side. I pour some of the queso sauce on top of both the chicken and the beans.

Enjoy!!

p.s. if you have kids to feed and they're like mine and won't "eat anything." While you're making this, place a small flour tortilla (1 per child)--covered with a hand-full of shredded cheese (cheddar for my kids) in the center of the tortilla--into your toaster oven or regular oven. Heat/cook until the cheese is melted. Remove and quickly roll up. Cut in half and served with fresh raw veggies and fruit. My kids love their "Mexican" meal, too.

I might be a terrible homemaker, but I make a pretty good salad...

On my first trip to the grocery store after receiving my diabetes diagnosis, I wept. Each aisle contained a bountiful cornucopia of delights which I could no longer consume. It seemed that everything before me was forbidden; it all might have well had the skull and crossbones sign of poisons. I felt utterly depressed and without hope. What would I eat? Would it taste good?

I have learned how to cook some pretty tasty diabetic friendly meals, but I struggle daily with what might as well be called an addiction to all things carbohydrate. I have created--with a little help from my mother-in-law--a great, diabetic friendly salad that can help neutralize a carb-heavy meal. The recipe follows...enjoy!

I like to keep things simple, so I start with a nice prepared bag of field greens. Field greens mix or a baby spinach mix are ideal for diabetics and others looking to be sugar-free or low sugar because they are higher in fiber and contain vital nutrients. I added some sliced English cucumbers (skin on.) I like English cucumbers because they have a taste almost as good as homegrown cucumbers. I then add in some tomatoes (I like cherry sized.) Finally, to add crunch (we don’t need the empty carbs of croutons) I add pecans (pieces or halves) and chopped celery, carrots, and radishes. For the zing I add a generous handful of dried cranberries.



Now comes the fun part: the salad dressing. You’d be surprised how many pre-prepared salad dressings contain added sugar. It is pretty easy to make your own salad dressing from scratch. Here’s one of my favorites—and as an added bonus, I’ve learned that the vinegar from the dressing helps counteract sugars in the digestive process.


• Clove or two of garlic, minced (depending on how garlic-y you like things...dried garlic powder works if you don't have fresh garlic.)


• Extra virgin olive oil


• Balsalmic vinegar (cheap olive oil and balsalmic vinegar are fine—there are some that retail for $20 or more, these are not needed for this.)


• Salt (I use kosher flake salt) and pepper to taste


• Salad fixings (as described above: celery, cucumbers, lettuce—I like field greens—,carrots, radishes, and tomatoes.


• Pine nuts or pecans


• Dried cranberries (optional)


In your salad bowl (it should be large enough for your salad contents) add enough olive oil to cover the bottom, flatter part of the bowl (it’s about 3 tablespoons, more if you’re making a very large salad.) Then add about half as much of the balsalmic vinegar to the oil (you can add more later if you like more bite.) Then add the garlic, salt and pepper, stir well and taste. If it’s too mild, add a little bit more vinegar…if it’s too strong, add a little bit more oil. Then add all of your veggies except for your lettuce. This allows the veggies to soak up the taste of the dressing a bit. I usually let all of this sit on the counter while I finish preparing my main dish. Then, when ready to serve, add the lettuce and optional dried cranberries and toss then serve.


I have found that a nice serving of this salad, plus a healthy meal with good protein, usually means I can have a small dessert afterwards and it won't raise my bloodsugar. I hope you'll have the same luck!

I am a Bubba Magnet

Yes. It's true. I am a Bubba Magnet. It's a sad, scary affliction that I've had since childhood. Nowhere, it seems, am I immune from my appeal to all things Bubba.

I first noticed my affliction when I was fifteen. On summer vacations with my parents on Lake Gaston in North Carolina, the Bubbas would come out of the woodwork. The local boys thought I was right purty and it went downhill from there. When I was 17 and off to college in rural Buies Creek, NC, the Bubbas could spot me from a mile away. Most locals didn't have anything to do with the college students except lucky me. I had a sheriff's deputy take a fancy to me. So, not only did this deter any other Bubbas from bothering me (which I appreciated after my first month of continuous Bubba pursuit) it also prevented any of the nice college boys from pursuing me (which I didn't like as much.)

Now at this point, you might be asking, "what does she mean by Bubba?" Well, let me tell you.... some uses of the word Bubba are quite nice (it's what quite a few brothers are called from childhood, which I think is sweet.) However, in this context, I am referring to the Bubba Stereotype. And while I hate stereotyping, in this case, it's just and true. The Bubbas of this story are generally persons of lower economic status and limited education and/or one who is a "good ol' boy." The Bubbas from my younger days as described above weren't that bad...they were somewhat cute, but not my type at all. I was never fond of the mullet hairdo (which Bubbas seem to adore) nor of skin tight jeans and plaid flannel shirts with the armsleeves cut off. Although, to be fair, the sheriff's deputy didn't have the mullet and he was almost always in uniform. He did, however, live in a trailer with his mother.

The Bubbas of my younger years were sweet and fun to hang out with as were the Bubbas of my working years.  In my working years, I worked with lots of Bubbas (more of the country boy variety) and I thought them all very sweet and endearing. But they all asked me out constantly and I had no desire to "go to the races" or "go see Travis Tritt or Kenny Rogers" (or whoever it was.) And they were not deterred by my refusals....they kept on asking. And trying to impress me with things that just didn't impress me (no, thank you, I don't need a mounted deer for my wall.)

After getting married, I thought I was finally free of the Bubbas. And I was for a short while. That was...until our house started needing repairs. Then the Bubbas returned. Only this time they weren't so sweet. Through some sort of psychic Bubba network, they must have known of my refusal of the other Bubba's courtship offers and were out for revenge. For now, it seems, I am at the mercy of the home-repair/maintenance Bubbas. And they like it...they love the Bubba power they have over me.

They'll come into my home or stand over my car and remove their caps (Bubbas ALWAYS wear caps,) scratch their greasy hair (ugh...still in that awful mullet cut usually...) and hitch up their too often sliding down pants (they give a whole new meaning to "plumber's crack") and tell me some long story about how broken my whatever is, how hard it will be to find the parts, how hard it will be to install said parts, and how they "reckon" it'll "set me back a little." But, "because they like me" they'll knock a little off the top. All I really wanted was for them to fix the problem and fix it right, but noooooooo, that almost never happens. The Bubba wants to make sure he gets to see me again, so it's never fixed right.

For a while, I was so fed up with the Bubbas that I declared a NO BUBBA repairman policy. Only I haven't found a repairman yet who wasn't a Bubba (please email me if you have a non-Bubba repairman.) So, as my aging house needs repairs, I suppose it is my fate to remain a Bubba Magnet...sigh...

From the hilltop

My father's grave sits on a peaceful hill in an old cemetery. He would have been 66 this week. The kids and I went there today and enjoyed walking around, reading epitaphs, and leaving wildflowers on my dad and grandmother's graves.

It's quite lovely up there. With a near constant breeze it's almost never hot...not even on a 95 degree day like today. From underneath the shade of the old oak tree at the very top of the hill, you can see for miles. My favorite view is of the city skyline. It's an interesting juxtaposition of life and death--the bustling city life imposed behind the gravestones and memorials of the dead.

My family's plot goes back to my great-great-grandfather. I can't help but wonder what life was like when he was my age...I wonder about all of the people buried in the cemetery...does anyone remember them anymore? Does anyone stop by and say "hello" to them anymore? Of course, the more creative epitaphs give you some idea of who or what the person was. I love my father's epitaph, "Beloved physician, father, and friend." Years from now, when no one remembers him personally, they can still read his marker and know what a grand guy he was. I think that's just what he would have wanted...to be thought of as a grand guy.

Farewell, old friend...

Our old family friend, Ukrop's, is finally gone. It was a grand old store...there through every facet of life.

My grandmother shopped at the original Ukrop's in Richmond's southside and was a loyal customer from the beginning. My mother shopped at Ukrop's, too...and Ukrop's in its quiet, subtle way was there throughout the ups and downs of life. For birthdays, graduations, and celebrations, nothing beat a Ukrop's cake. When you needed some good local fruits or veg, Ukrop's had it. When you were too tired to cook, or just didn't want to cook, Ukrop's was there with meals to go. Even for funerals, Ukrop's was there with its white house rolls, ham, redskin potato salad, and other funeral fare.

I started shopping solo at Ukrop's when I was 16. Every week, my grandfather gave me his list (it was almost always the exact same thing--I still have it memorized...) and I'd get his groceries for the week. His favorite treat were the little coconut tarts. My favorite treat was the cute teenaged boy who bagged my groceries and brought them out to my car. When a cute boy wasn't there, it was one of several cute older guys who knew me when I was little...and recalled bringing my mother's and grandmother's groceries to their cars.

I took my last stroll through Ukrop's a little while ago. My kids didn't understand why I was in tears. I was saying goodbye to an old friend who had been with me through my life. The end of Ukrop's feels like everything I knew growing up--everything old Richmond--has finally gone. Thalheimer's, Miller and Rhoads, and now Ukrop's. There a few places left...Bill's Barbeque comes to mind...I think I'll take the kids out for some barbeque, grape-limeaids, and coconut cream pie.

Meanwhile, goodbye Ukrop's...thanks for being there.

Happy Easter!

What I really wanted to say is it's going to be hard to be pleasant when one child woke me up at 3:00, another came bounding in my bed at 5:00, and the baby again at 6:30. So, I'll stick with good old "Happy Easter!"

Meanwhile, while I was unable to get back to sleep after the 3:00 AM interruption my mind wondered all sorts of things...like why it's called Easter (googled it, pretty interesting) and why eating ham is a tradition (I figured it was a "Yay, we get to eat ham because we're Christians" kind of thing.

So, I've digressed. A lot. Hopefully, next Easter I'll be better rested and more suitably reverent and/or relevant.

Until then: Happy Easter!!

It Had to be You!

Quite by accident, Jer and I discovered that the song "It Had to be You"'s meaning changes dramatically depending on your singing style and inflection. I had been singing it traditionally to the kids outside while Jer was inside. I then came in and (being silly) changed to singing it more "monster style" not noticing that Jer was in the room. It wasn't until he said, "Gee, thanks..." That I realized how I'd been singing. We then spent the rest of the night having fun singing it begrudgingly and made up some fun new "It just HAD to be you" lyrics. We're thinking of going on tour...

Birthday Party MADNESS!!!!

Sounds scary, doesn't it...birthday party madness!! I never thought I'd witness such phenomena in person. Crazy, extravagant birthday parties are something rich people do. I was wrong. A few weeks ago, right before Evelyn's third birthday, I witnessed birthday party madness!!

It was our neighbor's son's third birthday: a warm, beautiful spring Saturday and a great day for a party. We hadn't been invited to anything, but I assumed he was having a small party with a few of his same-aged boy friends. Was I ever wrong. By early afternoon their front lawn had become quite a spectacle. Hired staff had erected a small circus tent and a clown was busy inflating balloons. Two large tables had been set out with a magnificent arrangement of foods and beverages with a giant birthday cake as the centerpiece. Next came the moon bounce (a giant inflated castle with room for 10-20 kids to bounce around in.) Finally, the main attraction arrived: a travelling petting zoo, complete with two ponies, 3 or 4 lambs, and an assortment of ducks, chicks, bunnies, and other standard petting zoo critters.

I was stunned. Yeah, it was pretty cool, but I could not imagine shelling out that kind of expense and putting on that kind of show for a three-year-old's birthday! It's not like he'll remember it--who remembers their third birthday? Shoot, I don't remember my thirtieth birthday let alone my third. But, I thought, to each their own...

That was until Lydia and Evelyn, who had been having quiet time and napping, caught sight of the spectacle. They just had to run over and see everything. And they certainly didn't understand why they couldn't (because they weren't invited.) They were sobbing over not being able to ride ponies or pet one of the animals (they could see everything that was going on--it was quite close.) I eventually had to pack all three kids in the van and go for a drive.

When we finally returned several hours later and I got the kids nestled in their beds, I had a time to ponder the whole thing. I really just could not fathom spending that kind of money on a kid's birthday party. It occurred to me that perhaps the party wasn't really even for the three-year-old. The kid loved it, I'm sure. But a week later, Evelyn thought her small party with some friends consisting of a hot dog lunch, cake, and a cheap pinata was big time, awesome fun. So was the fancy party really for him? Or was it some sort of competitive parenting thing? Were the parents trying to impress their friends? Impress other neighbors?

This, in turn, got me to thinking about all of the things we do as parents: do we do things for ourselves or for our children. I've been thinking about that since then. Is what I'm doing genuinely for my child or is it for me? It's put an interesting perspective on things for me. There are a few things I will make my kids do for me (piano lessons come to mind, but I think they'll thank me for that when they're older) but I want to genuinely try to do things for my children's benefit and not my own ego boost. I want my kids to have plenty of free and fun time...time to contemplate their belly buttons and the universe or whatever goes through their minds. Other than preschool and Sunday School, my kids just have free time right now. I had been feeling bad about not having them involved in various activities (dance, soccer, swim, language, etc.)--not because I thought my kids were lacking, but because I knew other kids were doing these things and I wondered if my kids should be, too.

But, no, right now I don't think they need their days filled with activity. I like that my kids have the freedom to (within reason) be spontaneous and do whatever they want. I love that following heavy rains this past week, my kids had a blast splashing in puddles, making mud pies, and playing with worms. And while I wasn't I thrilled with Evelyn bringing worms into the house to keep as pets (they're back outside now) or too fond of the super-muddy clothes, I realized that clothes can be cleaned and these things, these fun, spontaneous moments, are what they'll likely remember when they're older. Their days will be filled sooner than I know. For now, my kids can just have fun being themselves.

We Get It Already....

I suffer from a rare malady called perfect friends and family. While most don't think this would be a bad thing--and really it isn't, I'm just jealous--it is terrible when you are not perfect.

Here's what I mean...a perfect Mommy-friend of mine potty-trained her kid in 4 hours and he's not had a single accident. While I'm very happy for her, does she have to rub it in?!? I've been through the worst two YEARS of my life getting Lydia potty-trained, and she still needs frequent reminders and has lots of accidents. Another Mommy I know has a 3-year-old who recites poetry. Another has a 4-year-old Olympic athlete in the making. And on and on and on... I especially loathe the gloating cards of perfection people send out once a year, er, I mean Christmas mailers.

I get it...I'm glad for all of you, but I'm happy that my kids are gleefully average--it's perfect for me. My kids have tantrums. My kids have accidents. My kids misbehave at times (well, near constantly might be a better description.) But my kids are also wonderfully sweet, and even if they aren't junior overachievers, they are wonderful to me.

Homemade Antibiotics (no, not really!!)

My kids have been sick for the last week or so. It started with RSV (a nasty, nasty virus) then they got secondary infections (pneumonia and ear infections.) After shelling out big bucks for their respective antibiotics, they quickly began to get better. Soon I realized that in the week they had been sick I'd allowed the refrigerator to get a bit gross. It was time for me to dive in and clean it out.

What I discovered amazed me. Old takeout, old leftovers, fruits and veggies purchased but unused due to the illnesses. I loaded a trash bag full. I went back to the fridge to make sure I had gotten everything when something caught my eye. Some bell peppers that looked intact and ok at first glance, but under more careful scrutiny, I discovered that there was mold growing on the stems.

Then it hit me: antibiotics are pretty much just mold, I wondered if I could capitalise on the mold on the bell peppers. Quickly, my mind wandered to all of the untold ills I could cure from my refrigerator mold. And just as quickly, someone shrieked, someone cried and my fantasy ended. That and I knew that I couldn't really use the mold for good. But wouldn't it be cool if I could?!?