Steamy

Hot Husband has been snoring like a gorilla the last couple nights. He's got a man-cold and needs a lot of TLC. Once I get him to agree to my consulting fee I always begin my TLC sessions with a speech.

Did you know that in the U.S. sinus problems are the #1 reason people see a doctor? If you are one of the millions of people who suffer from occasional sinus infections, you’re not alone. Many health practitioners consider the nasal passages to be a doorway for disease. Unfortunately, the finely-tuned filtering mechanism of hairs and mucus membranes can become overloaded through high exposure to pollution, chemicals, fragrances, pollen, and dust.

If you’ve got a cold and are susceptible to sinus infections take a few extra minutes in the shower each day for some hydra-therapy. Put your face directly under the shower head and turn the water up as hot as you can stand it. Singing “Tiny Bubbles” or yelling “HOT!” “HOT!” “HOT!” can help pass the time and make your experience more comfortable. Let the hot water wash over your face for as long as is comfortable. Then repeat several times. This increases the blood flow to your sinus regions and can help prevent an infection from settling in.

Another nifty tip, and one of my personal favorites, is this:

It’s called a Personal Steamer by the makers of Vicks Vapor Rub. You remember that stuff don’t you? My Mom swore by it when I was growing up and I think I still have the same greasy bottle somewhere in my medicine cabinet. I wonder if Vicks Vapor Rub ever expires?

The Personal Steamer is another excellent way to keep your sinuses clear as well as soothe a sore throat. Older children and whiney husbands can also use it for relief of croupy coughs and dry or stuffy noses.

You can check out more nifty ideas over at this Rockin' Blog today.

The sun spots done me wrong!

I’m supposed to be listening to my most favorite college football team play my least favorite college football team right now. I even shipped the rest of my family over to Rock Star Nanny & Grampy’s house where the cable juices flow into every room! All of this juggling and sending and packing the car with junk food in anticipation of being able to fold laundry and clean The Grammy’s apartment while listening to the game in total peace.

Key word here is; listen.

You see, I much prefer to listen to football games on the radio. I like doing stuff while I listen. Like surf the internet, or play Bejeweled until my eyes cross or pay bills.

Not really on that last part though. I never like paying bills. But you get the picture.

I also like the way the commentators give all the details that a seasoned football aficionado would be able to follow on the television. But seeing as I’m not a seasoned football afici, aficio, freak, it’s rather helpful for me to have the play-by-plays spoken out loud so I can understand what exactly is happening on the field, how many yards are left and the name of the player who just sacked my quarterback (so I know which voodoo doll to stick the pins in).

Not really on the voodoo doll thing either. 'Cuz that's just plain creepy. And I try and steer clear of all things creepy.

Except the compost pile.

Where was I? Oh yeah, commentators (the dears).

My mother’s heart actually skips a beat when I see the head-banging carnage or the scantily-clad cheerleaders. The radio guys have a much softer way of delivering the bad news about an injured player. And I’d much rather listen to a commercial about Dulcolax or IHOP than stare at the belly-button ring of the girl next door thankyouverymuch.

And, well – it just so happens that I think AM radio static is kinda charming. Something my Mom and Dad grew up with that my kids will never really understand or even miss when it’s long gone. In this digital and high definition world, the clearest sound and the crispy crispier crispiest best picture has come to rule-the-day. Long forgotten are the evenings huddled by the radio for some news about the war or some much-needed comedy relief. No, we’ve moved on to much bigger and better things, like The Simpsons and Top Model.

Really?

I mean, REALLY?

Aaaaanyhow, there was only one small problem with my perfect plan. At the end of the first quarter the AM radio signal faded on every station carrying the game. It just happened to coincide with the sun dropping behind the mountains. And I remembered some long lost piece of information from my youth about how radio signals can fade with the setting of the sun. But I had to look it up on The Google (God love 'em) 'cuz it's also entirely possible that I was making that fact up entirely in my head. Sure enough, it has something to do with ionospheric refraction.
So, the bad news is, my team lost bad and I didn’t get to listen to the game. The good news is I still got all my chores done and I’ve got some great new material to teach the Peeps on Monday.

I bet they can hardly wait.

Pass the platter of thankful and don't let Grandma near the fridge.

Had to do a bit of last minute writing this week to fill some space in the local newspaper. So I did a little re-mix of an old post about Grandma coming to live with us. Because we can all use another helping of thankful these days.....

Since I last wrote, my car hasn’t moved much from the driveway and the kids have had some much-needed down-time at home. This is always a good thing until the wiffle balls and plastic bats start putting dents in the walls and my carotid artery threatens to pop out of my neck. Is that even possible? That a wiffle ball can put a dent in drywall?

Thank goodness for Grandma’s old broom, which is still good for swatting kids out the door when the wood needs splitting and the football begs to be thrown. Another reminder to never take the simple things in life for granted.

Grandma’s broom is now permanently parked beside my fridge because after much cajoling, bribing, begging and a little, no big, shove, she’s finally here to stay. Our decision to add an apartment for her onto our existing home was born, in part, out of love and, in part, out of necessity; because it’s long past time for her to be living by herself in that big old house with all those stairs.

I know I’m fortunate. I like The Grandma (a.k.a. my Mother-in-Law). I've liked her from the start. That doesn't mean I wanted her to live with me though. If memory serves, I was sort of an uptight newlywed who had to have things "just so." Her refrigerator was way too cluttered for my comfort zone and she liked to mix all sorts of leftovers together to make casseroles (bleck). We enjoyed one another's company just fine but danced the Mother-in-Law/Daughter-in-Law dance at most family gatherings. I'd get the fridge ready before she'd come to visit and make sure all my leftovers were tossed in the garbage (and rolled out to the curb, because I'd seen some of her garage sale "treasures" and figured she might not be above dumpster-diving.) She probably said extra prayers as well that she wouldn't bump into my easily-offended little hiney or get in the way of my household sterilization routine. But then, I had kids. Oh sure, I was still able to hold onto my Howie Mandel ways with my first-born child. His whole little world was bleached and tidy. But by the time child number three came along my fridge was crammed with enough food for a football team, plus three gallons of milk, some moldy cream cheese and an upside down pizza box. Believe it or not, I have the pictures to prove it.

And by then, The Grandma and I were quickly learning how to suck the marrow out of our rich journey together. But please don’t think that by rich journey I mean nice, neat and tidy. Our journey has become rich because of the melting together of the highs and lows, beautiful and messy, awkward and easy. My twenty plus years getting to know my Mother-in-Law have been ALL of those things. But, during those years the two of us stumbled across a few eternal truths that have become the glue in our relationship.

Together we have learned that much fruit comes from choosing to serve one another. And then there’s the unexpected spill-over affect of my man being happy when I love on his Mama. Add to that the notion that pausing for a cup of coffee together is much more fun than cleaning the fridge anyway.

Let 'er buck!

I may have mentioned before that our little farm is surrounded by many large ranches. Where real cowboys live and work and cut hay and raise their families.

And rope calves and ride bulls and wrestle steers.

And every once in a while our family gets swept up into the melee also known as The Rodeo - where we get our boots dirty and wipe dust from our eyes and holler real loud.

This weekend was one of those occasions. Our neighbors were in charge of a little shindig called the Circuit Finals. Where the big boys come to strut-their-stuff. And since our family is more adept at politics and cooking food and occasionally wrestling a pig, we were given the task of taking tickets at the front door. A perfect job for the likes of us.

Well, ME, actually.

Hot Husband was off strutting his own stuff at an airbase three hours away.

So the kids and I donated our weekend to The Rodeo in an effort to help out our friends, and it's a good thing we did! Because, you would not believe how many people try to sneak into a rodeo!

Yeah. A RODEO!

Oh, I heard 'em all.

Every excuse in the book.

"My boyfriend is one of the bull riders."

"I'm one of the bull riders."

And, my personal favorite; "I own the bulls!"

Not even the most well-thought-out excuses worked on me though. You see, I considered it my neighborly duty to send every one of those lyin', cheatin' cowboys back to the ticket booth to buy another round of tickets!

My friends work hard to make The Rodeo happen and they have a passel of kids to feed. So, it just felt right to do everything I could to help them earn a wage and keep the economy rolling.

The fact that my own children and their cousins ate about 27 rodeo hamburgers, 17 servings of cotton candy and 32 soft pretzels probably means our country won't be needing another stimulus package any time soon either.

The moral of my story is this:

Buy the gol-dang ticket or stay home.

Because the next time you're tempted to sneak your teenager into the movies at the 12-year-old ticket price or borrow someone's wrist band for a free ride at the carnival, remember, we've got a whole lotta future cowboys and cowgirls depending on us to keep this great nation alive and solvent. And the few bucks a dishonest person might think they're saving now will be paid for by someone else, somewhere down the line.

Mr. President, I SUPPORT YOU!

Because I think it is immensely important to support whoever is Commander in Chief of this GREAT NATION, whether or not I agree with his off-kilter (albeit cohesive) political party, I am cooking in honor of my President tonight.

I have obtained, through very top secret channels, the Obama Family's Personal and Private Chili Recipe. It wasn't easy folks. I had to pull some strings and promise a few votes when Hot Husband gets elected to office someday. But, I believe it was worth it in the end. Because Lord knows, a Mama is always in need of new and easy recipes to add to her repertoire. And if I ever dine with the President and First Lady I will most certainly need something to talk about besides the fact that I think Oprah bought them the election - did I just say that? Mercy Me, I did NOT just say that!

Ahem.

Sorry, I need to remember that this post is about recipes, not politics my friends. So, on with the show!

Obama’s Chili

--1 can kidney beans
--1 lb lean ground beef
--1 green bell pepper, chopped
--1 large onion, chopped
--5-6 medium tomatoes, chopped (I used 2 cans diced tomatoes)
--4 chopped cloves of garlic
--1 tsp cumin
--1 tsp oregano
--1 tsp basil
--1 tsp turmeric
--2 tsp chili powder
--1 tsp salt
--3 T red wine vinegar

I cooked this in my 6-quart crock pot on low for about 8 hours because it just seemed appropriate to slowly simmer all those wonderful spices together. And I'm sure there's all sorts of comparisons I could draw between crock pots and politics but at the moment they escape me.

Suffice it to say that, for sheer sake of convenience, I chose to replace the ground beef with ground venison burger that my BABY shot with his GUN while praying to JESUS!

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Turning tricks in the country.

Let me begin by stating my Halloween bias. Then you can decide if you wish to continue reading at your own risk or bail out now.

I despise Halloween.

My whole family knows about my distaste for this particular date on the calendar. And I won't even give it the dignity of calling it a holiday because it most certainly is NOT a holiday for mothers everywhere. It's an added chore and expense that is about as far down my priority list as pulling weeds in a compost pile.

That said. I still choose to be present and chipper and supportive of the wee ones I gave birth to and the big kid that I'm married to. At the same time I'm thanking God that I live in the country, where the whole business of trick-or-treating has no choice but to be simple. It actually turns out to be more like a Sunday afternoon of "goin' visitin'" from farm to farm and ranch to ranch.

That part I like.

The brain damage over costumes that I'm forced to endure for weeks prior to Halloween is what I can't stand.

So, I postponed the whole shopping-for-costumes ordeal and gave many-a-speech to my children about how real creativity is when you have to work with what you have and dig through ye ole dress-up box and simply make-do. Plus, I was secretly hoping that by the time we went to The Walmarts today everything would be 50% off and the only thing left would be a few tiaras and some fake hillbilly teeth.

The Walmart marketing people must sit upstairs and laugh their heads off when they see me comin' on Halloween day, all, expecting a deal and a quick trip in and out. Oh, they've got me ALL figured out. Because they most certainly did NOT have anything marked 50% off. They did, however, subject me to Christmas music and plastic turkey center-pieces long before my tender senses were ready for such an onslaught.

I hate marketing departments.

So this is what we ended up with. Eldest Peep decided he was just going to be AWESOME for Halloween. And if anyone asked what he was dressed up as he would simply say "Awesome." Which is why I love the teenage years.

Princess Peep got creative with a long blond wig and decided to be a hippie. So she walked around all evening telling everyone, in a very breathy voice, "You're all special in your own way...."

Middle Peep was the only one who just had to give his wallet over to the Great Marketing Gods of the Free World.

He succumbed to the scary costume and actually made one baby cry during our visit to ranch number four, I think it was. He felt horrible and I didn't even need to make another speech!

But, we survived.

The night is over.

And, I think my children are finally beginning to grasp the concept that there is truly no substitute for just being themselves.

Soup's On!

I'm looking forward to trying this recipe pronto.

It was sent to me by my friend Erica, who is pretty much a rock-star in my book these days because she's duking it out with a big Meany called breast cancer. So if you have time, whip up a batch of this-here soup and say a prayer for my friend Erica. She's got some serious butt-kicking-of-the-Meany to do in the next few months.


White Chili
Serves 8
Slow Cooker

3 (15 oz.) cans Great Northern Beans (drained & rinsed)
1 can white corn (drained)
1 cup coarsely shredded carrots
1/2 cup sliced green onions
1 (7 oz.) can chopped green chilies
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. salt2 (14 oz.) can chicken broth
2 1/2 cups chopped cooked chicken
Shredded Monterey Jack cheese

1. Drain and rinse 2 cans of beans and place in slow cooker. Use a potato masher or fork to mash the beans. Drain and rinse the remaining can of beans. Add beans, corn, carrots, green onions, green chilies, garlic, oregano, cumin and 1/2 tsp. salt to the masked beans. Stir in chicken broth until combined.

2. Cover, cook on low heat setting for 6-8 hours or high heat setting for 3-4 hours.

3. If using low heat setting, turn to high heat before adding chicken. Stir chicken into chili. Cover; cook about 15 minutes or more until chicken is heated through.

4. Serve and sprinkle with cheese.

Ladle up some-a this soup and hold hands with the ones you love. It'll warm your soul.