So yes, I promised a post about the garden, and I promise it's coming. But we are full swing into Birthday Season. And I can't be bothered with gardening. And today is my own darling Everette's Birthday.
The thing about Everette's birthday is it almost always lands on Fourth of July Weekend so the festivities spread out.
So it's a weekend of partying!
Happy Birthday Honey!!!!!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Results are in
After several days of statistical analysis, we have the answers to the blog post quandry. With a WHOPPING two votes (three if you count the fact that my mom wanted to vote for all of them) "Jonathan answers Biblical Questions Plaguing Scholars for Centuries"
You may remember Jonathan found located Jesus a few months ago, and I personally breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Jonathan (and he alone) has made some more exciting new discoveries...
In other news, you may remember that while the Israelites were wandering in the desert for forever, God provided Manna.
A sweet, honey-flavored white bread-like substance. It only lasted for a day before it was rotten, and until now no one has ever seen it before.
Jonathan, however, eats 'manna' almost every day.
It is white, and sweet, and while it doesn't so much taste like honey it definately goes well with honey.
It definately goes bad after only a day, and it is starchy as well....
I personally like it when I find it laying out on the counter, like this!
The answer to the other nagging questions:
Yes. There were dinosaurs on the ark.
Thank you.
Over and Out.
Comingsoon sometime... blight, pestilence, drought, plague, famine, locusts, disease and death...
You may remember Jonathan found located Jesus a few months ago, and I personally breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Jonathan (and he alone) has made some more exciting new discoveries...
In other news, you may remember that while the Israelites were wandering in the desert for forever, God provided Manna.
A sweet, honey-flavored white bread-like substance. It only lasted for a day before it was rotten, and until now no one has ever seen it before.
Jonathan, however, eats 'manna' almost every day.
It is white, and sweet, and while it doesn't so much taste like honey it definately goes well with honey.
It definately goes bad after only a day, and it is starchy as well....
I personally like it when I find it laying out on the counter, like this!
The answer to the other nagging questions:
Yes. There were dinosaurs on the ark.
Thank you.
Over and Out.
Coming
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
HOLEY SH-E-ET! I'm on Fire!
Preface:Don't worry the results are in, the blog post vote results will be revealed soon, but first...
Holey Sheet!
I was out of town last week, with my mother-in-law, helping her clean out her mother's house. I got home after an eleven hour drive at 9:30 PM, Saturday night.
You could say, I was pretty wiped.
Everette did a great job of holding down the fort while I was gone, all the laundry was done, the dishes were at least in the dishwasher, and the garden had been weeded. The bed was only halfway made, but you can't hold that against him, he has some sort of traumatic psychosis when it comes to bed making. He just can't do it. But I can't blame him, because I have the same psychosis when it comes to all other housework (we're a great team).
We were headed to bed, and I had mustered all my remaining strength to straighten the bed, then I lifted up the covers and prepared to sink cozily into my favorite sheets ( I may have mentioned them here before, though I can't find it--they are 1000 TC And they are NOT (repeat NOT) Sateen. Sateen sheets are total conartists. THey promise high thread counts and smooth sleeping, but they do not deliver).
Anyway, I digress... where was I? Oh yes, sinking my travel weary body into dreamy sheets.
As I lifted the covers, Everette chose that moment to say, "Oh,yeah, there's a hole in the sheet."
"What!?!?!!?" I rip off the blankets and to my complete horror there was a GIANT hole in the bottom sheet.
I sighed. and sat deflated on the edge of the bed. I tried to place a towel over it, but since it was right where my feet were there was nothing I could do.
I laid on the bed, in stunned silence. Everette didn't really know what to do. I was on the brink of tears. I know it seems silly, but I FREAKING loved those sheets. More than.... well, a lot of things.
Everette was quick to promise that we could get more, but they won't be the same. And the worst part is, I think I did it. It happened before on some stupid sateen sheets we had, in the same spot. I think I have restless leg in my sleep coupled with sharp jabbing skin spikes on my heel, leads me to believe I wear through the fabric with my heels.
Tragic.
I am still in mourning.
I'm on Fire
well, not me, but my parents woke up this morning at 4:30 AM to a house filled with smoke. As it turns out, they had a small electrical fire. It burned itself out, the damage was minimal, and every one is ok; but it still made for an exciting morning.
And no matter how calmly it is explained, there is something very unnerving about hearing that your childhood home was on fire.
Holey Sheet!
I was out of town last week, with my mother-in-law, helping her clean out her mother's house. I got home after an eleven hour drive at 9:30 PM, Saturday night.
You could say, I was pretty wiped.
Everette did a great job of holding down the fort while I was gone, all the laundry was done, the dishes were at least in the dishwasher, and the garden had been weeded. The bed was only halfway made, but you can't hold that against him, he has some sort of traumatic psychosis when it comes to bed making. He just can't do it. But I can't blame him, because I have the same psychosis when it comes to all other housework (we're a great team).
We were headed to bed, and I had mustered all my remaining strength to straighten the bed, then I lifted up the covers and prepared to sink cozily into my favorite sheets ( I may have mentioned them here before, though I can't find it--they are 1000 TC And they are NOT (repeat NOT) Sateen. Sateen sheets are total conartists. THey promise high thread counts and smooth sleeping, but they do not deliver).
Anyway, I digress... where was I? Oh yes, sinking my travel weary body into dreamy sheets.
As I lifted the covers, Everette chose that moment to say, "Oh,yeah, there's a hole in the sheet."
"What!?!?!!?" I rip off the blankets and to my complete horror there was a GIANT hole in the bottom sheet.
I sighed. and sat deflated on the edge of the bed. I tried to place a towel over it, but since it was right where my feet were there was nothing I could do.
I laid on the bed, in stunned silence. Everette didn't really know what to do. I was on the brink of tears. I know it seems silly, but I FREAKING loved those sheets. More than.... well, a lot of things.
Everette was quick to promise that we could get more, but they won't be the same. And the worst part is, I think I did it. It happened before on some stupid sateen sheets we had, in the same spot. I think I have restless leg in my sleep coupled with sharp jabbing skin spikes on my heel, leads me to believe I wear through the fabric with my heels.
Tragic.
I am still in mourning.
I'm on Fire
well, not me, but my parents woke up this morning at 4:30 AM to a house filled with smoke. As it turns out, they had a small electrical fire. It burned itself out, the damage was minimal, and every one is ok; but it still made for an exciting morning.
And no matter how calmly it is explained, there is something very unnerving about hearing that your childhood home was on fire.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Cooking wth Dad: Lesson 1-- How to Boil Water
So it has come to my attention that with all this chatter about my mom here, my dad is feeling left out. In honor of Father's Day I will oblige, although he may come to regret it later.
My dad, I have heard, used to cook with/for my mom in their early years of marriage. As the years progressed and my mom stayed home with her three extremely well behaved children, my dad stepped out of the role and my mom assumed more of the responsibility for food prep. You can call it chauvinist, I call it reality. As a stay at home mom myself, it just makes sense for me to make dinner, I have more time. It's true.
Now that my dad is working less and my mom is working more, he is cooking more again.
This balance shift took place over the last few years and when it first began he was a little... uhh... rusty.
My dad also has the tendency to get himself all hyped-up over his responsibilities. My dad is not the laid-back-roll-with-the-punches. He is the lets-get-this-done-now-so-I-can-get-back-to-watching-old-Westerns-on-TV kind of guy.
Early in our marriage Everette and I were over at my mom and dad's for dinner. We were hanging out and when it came time for food prep, my dad had one job: boil the water for corn. Obviously it was the summer, because we only eat Green Wagon corn and we only eat in the summer.
Anyway, back to my dad, head chef, and chief water boiler. Before I go any further, I must say in my dad's defense, their stove is the worst stove on planet earth, and you could needlepoint a life-sized picture of the Statue of Liberty before you could boil water.
But I digress. As my mom set to work preparing the rest of dinner, my dad set to work slamming around the kitchen. My mother, after 30 years of marriage has learned, largely how to ignore my dad when he gets into hyper drive. So we continued talking, mostly oblivious to whatever my dad was doing.
Until my mother, quite involuntarily grabbed the large stock pot, brought it to the sink, filled it up and returned it to the stove.
Seconds later, when my dad realized what she had done, he went from over-drive to rocket launcher mode (seriously, I think my dad could launch rockets with the energy he rams around with).
"what did you do that for!?!" he exclaimed out of frustration.
My mom, responded with apologies as most people would, after completely unintentionally upsetting some one.
My dad continued to overreact. I would compare it to a steam whistle. He wasn't rude or mean. He just had all this pressure built up from his flurry of activities that it just burst out when he opened his mouth.
As I watched him, I realized what he was doing and why he was upset...
My Dad, had decided the fastest, most efficient, and best way to boil water for corn was to fill a one-quart microwave-safe bowl with water and nuke it for five mins and then dump it the large 3 gallon stock pot on the stove. Then go to the sink and start over and rinse and repeat...
Let's just let that resonate for a bit...
And his frustration was because my mother unknowingly poured 10 quarts of cold tap water into his two accumulated quarts of nuked warm water. Thus bringing him back to square one and rendering his intense water-heating efforts fruitless. You can feel the man's frustration.
I immediately started laughing , a deep gut busting laugh. With tears and side cramps, and hyperventilating breaths.
My mom quickly followed suit.
My dad, beginning to realize his folly but not ready to admit it quite yet, just stood there, his rocket booster energy dissipating.
My poor dad will never live it down no matter how many delicious dinners he makes. He can grill a steak, smoke a turkey, just please don't ask him to boil water.
Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you to pieces.
Up Next...
Choose your own adventure, I have several things I could write about, but I can't decide what's next. So you tell me...
Here are you three Blog Post Titles (and I can't promise they will ALL get written, so your vote could be a matter or life and death):
Blight, Pestilence, Plague, and Famine
The Burp Heard Round the World
Help! Please Send Money
Jonathan answers biblical questions plaguing scholars for centuries
My dad, I have heard, used to cook with/for my mom in their early years of marriage. As the years progressed and my mom stayed home with her three extremely well behaved children, my dad stepped out of the role and my mom assumed more of the responsibility for food prep. You can call it chauvinist, I call it reality. As a stay at home mom myself, it just makes sense for me to make dinner, I have more time. It's true.
Now that my dad is working less and my mom is working more, he is cooking more again.
This balance shift took place over the last few years and when it first began he was a little... uhh... rusty.
My dad also has the tendency to get himself all hyped-up over his responsibilities. My dad is not the laid-back-roll-with-the-punches. He is the lets-get-this-done-now-so-I-can-get-back-to-watching-old-Westerns-on-TV kind of guy.
Early in our marriage Everette and I were over at my mom and dad's for dinner. We were hanging out and when it came time for food prep, my dad had one job: boil the water for corn. Obviously it was the summer, because we only eat Green Wagon corn and we only eat in the summer.
Anyway, back to my dad, head chef, and chief water boiler. Before I go any further, I must say in my dad's defense, their stove is the worst stove on planet earth, and you could needlepoint a life-sized picture of the Statue of Liberty before you could boil water.
But I digress. As my mom set to work preparing the rest of dinner, my dad set to work slamming around the kitchen. My mother, after 30 years of marriage has learned, largely how to ignore my dad when he gets into hyper drive. So we continued talking, mostly oblivious to whatever my dad was doing.
Until my mother, quite involuntarily grabbed the large stock pot, brought it to the sink, filled it up and returned it to the stove.
Seconds later, when my dad realized what she had done, he went from over-drive to rocket launcher mode (seriously, I think my dad could launch rockets with the energy he rams around with).
"what did you do that for!?!" he exclaimed out of frustration.
My mom, responded with apologies as most people would, after completely unintentionally upsetting some one.
My dad continued to overreact. I would compare it to a steam whistle. He wasn't rude or mean. He just had all this pressure built up from his flurry of activities that it just burst out when he opened his mouth.
As I watched him, I realized what he was doing and why he was upset...
My Dad, had decided the fastest, most efficient, and best way to boil water for corn was to fill a one-quart microwave-safe bowl with water and nuke it for five mins and then dump it the large 3 gallon stock pot on the stove. Then go to the sink and start over and rinse and repeat...
Let's just let that resonate for a bit...
And his frustration was because my mother unknowingly poured 10 quarts of cold tap water into his two accumulated quarts of nuked warm water. Thus bringing him back to square one and rendering his intense water-heating efforts fruitless. You can feel the man's frustration.
I immediately started laughing , a deep gut busting laugh. With tears and side cramps, and hyperventilating breaths.
My mom quickly followed suit.
My dad, beginning to realize his folly but not ready to admit it quite yet, just stood there, his rocket booster energy dissipating.
My poor dad will never live it down no matter how many delicious dinners he makes. He can grill a steak, smoke a turkey, just please don't ask him to boil water.
Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you to pieces.
Up Next...
Choose your own adventure, I have several things I could write about, but I can't decide what's next. So you tell me...
Here are you three Blog Post Titles (and I can't promise they will ALL get written, so your vote could be a matter or life and death):
Blight, Pestilence, Plague, and Famine
The Burp Heard Round the World
Help! Please Send Money
Jonathan answers biblical questions plaguing scholars for centuries
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Whew!!!
Just so you know I have been trying to blog for days now but blogger wouldn't let me. Seriously, it wasn't my fault. I mean we have some heavy stuff going on.
For one. My sister is in Africa. umm..Yeah, Africa!!!!!
What the crap!?!?
Africa!
I keep thinking of her at the most bizarre moments... for which I am grateful, because I use those moments to pray for her... That God would protect her from... well
Everything, she is in Africa!!!
From malaria, lions, crazy attack chickens on the bus, rhinos, monkeys.
Maybe you didn't hear me, she is in Africa!
The first time I randomly thought of her, I was in my van and Ray LaMontagne's "Shelter" came on.. which of course made me cry like a baby because.... my sister is in AFRICA.
The next time I randomly thought of her was late at night a few days ago, As you know we don't have cable, and you might also know when you only have a few antennae channels things get interesting late at night, so our best option was PBS fundraiser special, which after many years of Celtic Women , has now become Straight No Chaser.
And their big finish closing number is none other than TOTO's Africa.
It was obviously some kind of sign.
For the record, I hate it when people refer to the entire continent of Africa like a country. It's like saying you were going on a trip to North America when you were really just going to Canada.
Laura is spending most of her time in Uganda with a short stint in Rwanda.
I tried to embed a map but it wasn't working and I didn't have the patience to figure it out, so you can google it for your self.
P.S. Just in case there are any guys reading this, and happen to be impressed by my sister's backpacking trip alone (with two other girls), wrestling lions and working at orphanages. She's single. But I will warn you, this girl's a treasure and her brother and I don't plan to let just anybody have her.
My sister has many facets....
Many many facets.
For one. My sister is in Africa. umm..Yeah, Africa!!!!!
What the crap!?!?
Africa!
I keep thinking of her at the most bizarre moments... for which I am grateful, because I use those moments to pray for her... That God would protect her from... well
Everything, she is in Africa!!!
From malaria, lions, crazy attack chickens on the bus, rhinos, monkeys.
Maybe you didn't hear me, she is in Africa!
The next time I randomly thought of her was late at night a few days ago, As you know we don't have cable, and you might also know when you only have a few antennae channels things get interesting late at night, so our best option was PBS fundraiser special, which after many years of Celtic Women , has now become Straight No Chaser.
And their big finish closing number is none other than TOTO's Africa.
It was obviously some kind of sign.
For the record, I hate it when people refer to the entire continent of Africa like a country. It's like saying you were going on a trip to North America when you were really just going to Canada.
Laura is spending most of her time in Uganda with a short stint in Rwanda.
I tried to embed a map but it wasn't working and I didn't have the patience to figure it out, so you can google it for your self.
My sister has many facets....
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Keys
ths post s wrtten wthout any " "s, because that's what happens when your two year old son fnds your laptop on the coffee table. To a 2 yr old the most logcal thng to do wth a laptop s to rp off the keys. t happened a few weeks ago. We had some frends over and n an attempt to talk n peace we let hm watch Dnosaur Tran on my laptop. When we came over to check on hm he had taken the "" key off of the keyboard and rolled t up lke a swss cake roll (speakng of... one of those sounds delcous rght now). We were able to salvage the key, but you have to really press down hard to make the letter "i" to show up so most of the tme I have to go back and retype where I mssed the letter "". Which I am refusng to do for ths post.
The next day, went upstars and when came down found 7 keys removed, thankfully none were crnkled, but I am not sure have ever been that mad at my son, to date. t was one of those angers that you just have to leave to room, because f you open your mouth or attempt any form of dscplne you wll lose your own self- control, and well, that would be bad you know.
*********************************************************
Speakng of keys, we had a voce message on Tuesday from CVS Extra Care sayng that they had located our keys.
Uhh... what keys?
Everette, dd you lose keys? hmmm...
Our frst thought was that Everette dropped the church keys somewhere, so I went lookng for them.
I went out the to truck (I unlocked it from the house), but when went out to the the truck, the glove compartment and the center console were open, and things definately looked rummaged through. And the keys and the car charger, and his multi-purpose tool were no where to be found.
hmmm.....
I called Everette down and he went to check things out. I was headed to Indy for the day with my mother-n-law (under the guise of a fun outing, only later to learn her plan was to trap me in the hot sweaty car with my son for two and a half hours-I kid I kid!). So I called from the car, and they gacve me the number of the Sherriff.
As t turns out someone found the keys on the ground n our neighborhood, and there had been several other breakns n our neighborhood, the cars had all been unlocked. So we filed a polce report and when on about our day. Thnkng it was over and we really hadn't come out too bad, considering on many occasons Everette had been known to leave his wallet in his truck.
Although for the lfe of us, Everette and I can't figure out why they ddn't take the James Taylor Chrstmas CD in the truck.
And ts defntely tme to fnd a new guard dog.
Interestingly, the very next day, a representative from Protech security systems was at my door tryng to sell me a securty system. coincidence, I think not.
*sigh*
Especally, snce they seemed shocked when I said no.
The next day, went upstars and when came down found 7 keys removed, thankfully none were crnkled, but I am not sure have ever been that mad at my son, to date. t was one of those angers that you just have to leave to room, because f you open your mouth or attempt any form of dscplne you wll lose your own self- control, and well, that would be bad you know.
*********************************************************
Speakng of keys, we had a voce message on Tuesday from CVS Extra Care sayng that they had located our keys.
Uhh... what keys?
Everette, dd you lose keys? hmmm...
Our frst thought was that Everette dropped the church keys somewhere, so I went lookng for them.
I went out the to truck (I unlocked it from the house), but when went out to the the truck, the glove compartment and the center console were open, and things definately looked rummaged through. And the keys and the car charger, and his multi-purpose tool were no where to be found.
hmmm.....
I called Everette down and he went to check things out. I was headed to Indy for the day with my mother-n-law (under the guise of a fun outing, only later to learn her plan was to trap me in the hot sweaty car with my son for two and a half hours-I kid I kid!). So I called from the car, and they gacve me the number of the Sherriff.
As t turns out someone found the keys on the ground n our neighborhood, and there had been several other breakns n our neighborhood, the cars had all been unlocked. So we filed a polce report and when on about our day. Thnkng it was over and we really hadn't come out too bad, considering on many occasons Everette had been known to leave his wallet in his truck.
Although for the lfe of us, Everette and I can't figure out why they ddn't take the James Taylor Chrstmas CD in the truck.
And ts defntely tme to fnd a new guard dog.
Interestingly, the very next day, a representative from Protech security systems was at my door tryng to sell me a securty system. coincidence, I think not.
*sigh*
Especally, snce they seemed shocked when I said no.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
opposites attract
The following is an all too common interaction between Everette and me, involving all things entertainment.
Everette: Did you hear that Gary Coleman died?
to which I of course replied: What you talkin' bout Willis?
Everette: uhhh.... what?
Please feel sorry for me.
Everette: Did you hear that Gary Coleman died?
to which I of course replied: What you talkin' bout Willis?
Everette: uhhh.... what?
Please feel sorry for me.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Lack of Content
Due to my lack of verbal content. I decided to post another video.
This one is from our excursion to the Battlefield in April.
Jonathan is yelling "kerplunk!" as he drops the rocks into the water, but it is coming out like, "per-klump!"
I thought it was very cute at the time.. OK I still do.
Battlefield from Megan Mills on Vimeo.
This one is from our excursion to the Battlefield in April.
Jonathan is yelling "kerplunk!" as he drops the rocks into the water, but it is coming out like, "per-klump!"
I thought it was very cute at the time.. OK I still do.
Battlefield from Megan Mills on Vimeo.
Monday, May 24, 2010
20 days
Today marks 20 day since my last post. Which is shameful really. There has been so much to share really. and so little time. I can hardly believe May is almost over.
You really deserve much better than this. 20 days with no posts is inexcusable. I wish I were different, but this is pretty much me.
So you just have to deal with it.
love you lots!
If this gives you any idication of the kind of weekend we had, my son fell asleep on my bed watching TV at 10:28 this morning, which has never in the history his short life, happened. never.
We are all pretty pooped over here.
You really deserve much better than this. 20 days with no posts is inexcusable. I wish I were different, but this is pretty much me.
So you just have to deal with it.
love you lots!
If this gives you any idication of the kind of weekend we had, my son fell asleep on my bed watching TV at 10:28 this morning, which has never in the history his short life, happened. never.
We are all pretty pooped over here.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
My mom was hip!
In an effort to take the contents of my blog away from poop, I am trying to talk about my mom more. In hopes that those two topics of conversation will not ever meet.
They say writing is like therapy.
Trust me.. if you have ever met my mom, then you know I need lots of therapy. If you haven't met my mom, and you think I am exaggerating or just being mean, just hop on over here, or here and it should clear things up.
Anyway, back to my mom being hip... hold on let's wait a minute for my mom to pick herself up off the floor because she can't believe I just said that.... in writing no less.
Relax mom, I'm not talking fashion-hip. You might dress pretty well now, but your crimes against fashion are too long and too cruel to ever be erased. The statute of limitations on vacuum cleaner haircuts, and puff painted and bedazzled sweatshirts has not run out.
I am talking about peanut butter. Nowadays, everybody is buying All Natural Peanut butter. It is totally hip to remove all of those additives and go back to the pure peanuts and peanut oil.
It is totally cool to refrigerate your peanut butter now.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was eating Smuckers all Natural Peanut Butter in 1985.
I can still hear my mother say in complete disdain, while reading the ingredients in other peanut butter, "why would you ever need to put anything in peanut butter besides peanuts... and maybe a little salt?"
Except in 1985 it wasn't cool to eat all natural peanut butter, choosy mom's chose JIF. JIF-that whipped, smooth, nutty, delicious peanut "spread".
I had to endure much ridicule from my friends (although in hindsight maybe it was the bejeweled puff painted sweatshirt I was wearing).
(this is not my sweatshirt, I found it on the Internet, but if you took off the dog, and slapped on a dolphin, you are pretty much there)
How I secretly longed for sweet creamy delicious JIF. I remember my cousin taking one look at our peanut butter and seeing the inch-and-a half layer of oil on top.. said, "uhhh, I think there is something wrong with your peanut butter." As he tilted the jar over the sink to pour it out, we all cried out "noooooo". "You have to stir it!!!"
I am pretty sure that incident sealed the deal for him. He already thought we were church -going freaks, but the oily peanut butter, now that was just plain crazy!
When I was out on my own, forging my way, being rebellious, bucking all the rules my parents laid out for me, Smuckers Peanut Butter was the first thing to go (and just for my own clarity, is it called independence when you live in an apartment above your parents garage? It did have a separate entrance).
I went out and bought the biggest jar of Extra Crunchy JIF you could find. In keeping with my new found independence, I boldly strutted down the bread aisle and in willful defiance picked up the whitest wonderbread on the shelf.
I went home and made a peanut butter, honey and banana sandwich... and it was good.
No more gritty peanut butter, just smooth creamy deliciousness.
In later years, I would happily settle for store brand peanut butter, but every time I wandered down the aisle, Smuckers would beckon me, calling me back.
Nearly a decade after leaving All Natural Peanut butter behind, we were eating PB&J's at my brother's house. He and his family had recently made the switch back to Smuckers. It tasted familiar, cozy, but better... Because Smuckers finally got some brains and whipped some honey into their all natural peanut butter. So the Honey flavor was built right in, you didn't have to get that sticky gooeyness all over your hands any more.
At the request of my husband, I reluctantly made the switch back to All Natural. And for the most part I am satisfied with my decision, I mean, I don't want my kid to be the freaky one eating UNnatural peanut butter! Except for the secret jar of JIF hidden in the back of my pantry I bust out on occasion (mmmm... hydrogenized soybean oil).
They say writing is like therapy.
Trust me.. if you have ever met my mom, then you know I need lots of therapy. If you haven't met my mom, and you think I am exaggerating or just being mean, just hop on over here, or here and it should clear things up.
Anyway, back to my mom being hip... hold on let's wait a minute for my mom to pick herself up off the floor because she can't believe I just said that.... in writing no less.
Relax mom, I'm not talking fashion-hip. You might dress pretty well now, but your crimes against fashion are too long and too cruel to ever be erased. The statute of limitations on vacuum cleaner haircuts, and puff painted and bedazzled sweatshirts has not run out.
I am talking about peanut butter. Nowadays, everybody is buying All Natural Peanut butter. It is totally hip to remove all of those additives and go back to the pure peanuts and peanut oil.
It is totally cool to refrigerate your peanut butter now.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was eating Smuckers all Natural Peanut Butter in 1985.
I can still hear my mother say in complete disdain, while reading the ingredients in other peanut butter, "why would you ever need to put anything in peanut butter besides peanuts... and maybe a little salt?"
Except in 1985 it wasn't cool to eat all natural peanut butter, choosy mom's chose JIF. JIF-that whipped, smooth, nutty, delicious peanut "spread".
I had to endure much ridicule from my friends (although in hindsight maybe it was the bejeweled puff painted sweatshirt I was wearing).
How I secretly longed for sweet creamy delicious JIF. I remember my cousin taking one look at our peanut butter and seeing the inch-and-a half layer of oil on top.. said, "uhhh, I think there is something wrong with your peanut butter." As he tilted the jar over the sink to pour it out, we all cried out "noooooo". "You have to stir it!!!"
I am pretty sure that incident sealed the deal for him. He already thought we were church -going freaks, but the oily peanut butter, now that was just plain crazy!
When I was out on my own, forging my way, being rebellious, bucking all the rules my parents laid out for me, Smuckers Peanut Butter was the first thing to go (and just for my own clarity, is it called independence when you live in an apartment above your parents garage? It did have a separate entrance).
I went out and bought the biggest jar of Extra Crunchy JIF you could find. In keeping with my new found independence, I boldly strutted down the bread aisle and in willful defiance picked up the whitest wonderbread on the shelf.
No more gritty peanut butter, just smooth creamy deliciousness.
In later years, I would happily settle for store brand peanut butter, but every time I wandered down the aisle, Smuckers would beckon me, calling me back.
Nearly a decade after leaving All Natural Peanut butter behind, we were eating PB&J's at my brother's house. He and his family had recently made the switch back to Smuckers. It tasted familiar, cozy, but better... Because Smuckers finally got some brains and whipped some honey into their all natural peanut butter. So the Honey flavor was built right in, you didn't have to get that sticky gooeyness all over your hands any more.
At the request of my husband, I reluctantly made the switch back to All Natural. And for the most part I am satisfied with my decision, I mean, I don't want my kid to be the freaky one eating UNnatural peanut butter! Except for the secret jar of JIF hidden in the back of my pantry I bust out on occasion (mmmm... hydrogenized soybean oil).
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