I Have Big News

Big, I tell you.
Christmas was great, blah, blah, blah, whatever.
But, I finally saw Twilight.
The planets have aligned. The stars have merged, whatever.
I went with my mom and cousin with the awesome name.
We giggled at the appropriate times of utter cheesiness.
We left the theater to 6 inches of snow.
Wa-hoo.
There were actually 4 when we went in.
Wa-stinking-hoo.
I've had Edward dreams for two nights.
Weird ones.
Don't tell the husband.

So Bring Us Some Fudgy Fudgy

Because I should be doing 72 other things, I'll post the fudge recipe. I should not be doing this--I consider it my own special treat to give out, so Sassy Pants, and people in my neighborhood--no stealing! Unless you're giving it to people I don't know and whose taste buds need refining.

I got the recipe from a lady who makes a ton of good-tastin' candy every Christmas and she gave us a handout with a bunch of tips for making good candy--I'll give you the critical ones so I don't hear any boo-hooing about people's fudges not fudging.

The tips, in no rational order, almost all copied ver bedim (if you already know how to make good candy, skip on ahead, but go carefully--don't hurt your knees, or take anyone out with your elbows--it sort of hurts):

1. A heavy pan (that's thick on the bottom) is best for candy-making.

2. Use a wooden spoon while stirring candy so it doesn't go sugary.

3. Butter is better than margarine.

4. Make sure you stir candy constantly! Candy burns really easy! When boiling candy, DO NOT boil at a high temperature, boil at a medium temperature to help keep it from burning. STIR CONSTANTLY! (If you missed that--stir constantly)

5. Make sure pans are greased and ready to pour candy into when it's done.

6. If you have long hair, pull it back. duh.


Now that you're thoroughly bored, on to the show. Her recipe (with my unsolicited running commentary in yellow-orange, not to be confused with yellow or orange):

Place in a large bowl:

1 pint (7-oz jar) marshmallow creme (just one--believe me, I've done it with two--still good, but harder to cut)
1 12-oz package semi-sweet chocolate chips--DON'T use milk chocolate (trust me on this one)
2 teaspoons vanilla
nuts if desired (or if you prefer, nutty in-laws)

Place in large pan:
5 c white sugar
2 cubes butter (NOT margarine) (how could you forget it's better with butter?)
dash of salt (it's incredible)
1 large (12-oz) can evaporated milk

Bring second mixture to a slow boil. (Over medium heat remember) (I'm not becoming at all annoying.) After it starts boiling, cook for 9 minutes. Pour over the mixture in the large bowl and stir quickly. Pour into 9x13 pan that has been sprayed with Pam (or Western Family, including the dog) (or Wal-Mart).

Now MY variation to transform it into scrumdiddlyumptious

Famous White Orange Fudge (complete with shadow) :

--In the bowl mixture--use white chocolate chips instead of semi-sweet--I've found Nestle has the best texture if you're not rich enough to go to some fancy pants candy store in Salt Lake that I'm sure does not welcome three stinky, loud, fast-moving in polar directions (if there were three poles) children who have spilled out a nasty, dirty minivan bringing a cascade of pretzels, old Happy Meal hamburgers (yes we've found those in crevices) and rock-hard PB sandwiches.

--Add 1 dram orange or tangerine candy flavoring bought at Ben Franklin's (locals) with a 40% coupon (because remember how we don't buy ingredients at fancy store if it involved driving there with a full minivan). You can add just a teaspoon if you have no taste, but when I tried to measure mine, it was pouring down the side anyway so it all went in. You can half the vanilla or still use 2 tsp, I don't think it will kill anything.

--I added the zest from two Clementines, because I had them, but I suppose if you don't have any, YOUR fudge will still taste OKAY, and I mean OKAY. (Actually it probably really will be okay). You can add zest to the top, but I think I would have preferred to go without, or to let it dry out a little first so I could scatter it better. Sue me for having no cooker lingo.

--Add food coloring--1 drop red, 5 drops yellow. Yeah, the gel stuff works too. And in case you're wondering, and are strictly on a need to know later--the gel works when coloring bath salts, too--you just have to shake it longer. A lot longer. But since we don't want to eat bath salts with our fudge, who cares about that?

Now go make it. It doesn't take that long. If anyone has tried it and used, say, orange extract instead of candy flavoring and had it work, let me know (like leave a comment so we can all learn). I might have bottle of orange extract to burn up. Well not literally. duh.

Oh yeah, if not quite ALL the marshmallow dissolves, don't stress--those are the good parts, the marbleing and the marshmallow chunks. (As opposed to blowing chunks--where I efficiently killed your cravings for white orange fudge at 11 at night.) (Thank me later--I do like me the comments.) The same goes for if all the chocolate chips that don't dissolve--but I think it helps to have them on top of the marshmallow creme in the bowl.

That done, and my only unsecret secret recipe out, I want people's opinions on a good flat iron, or what you think is a reasonable flat iron price. Mine halfway bit the dust on our trip to Boise four months ago (which was traumatic as I was meeting that stranger, Jennifer P., and apparently my self-confidence is dependant on the state of my bouffant) (sadly) and became fully incapacitated when I was very angry one day and hit against a hard surface several times. I do believe that was a bad hair day. Yes, Mom, I think I'll have those until I'm dead--even when I'm an old lady getting my hair done once a week at the beautician's. Becuase you wanted to hear about hair and fudge at the same time (killed the craving again, eh?)


So in case you've forgotten already, I want flat iron opinions! And fudge experiment results! Bring it on.

Getting Ready For Christmas

I hate when I take a ton of pictures of things to blog about, don't blog about them and then end up with so many unfulfilled dreams. Or something like that. Maybe if I weren't so wordy.

So brace yourself a little.

We made Gingerbread houses with Grandma.

So colorful.

See that little hand?

So proud.

Don't even last a day.

I copied these fabulous gals and made these little men out of my pumpkins.

And Mr Destructo got to them.

He kept saying, "It fell over," and grinning and laughing at himself.

He'd knocked. the. head. off.

And I was standing right by him!

Like the white 80's toothbrush splatters? It was no toothbrush, my friends. You can achieve the same look with spray paint when you're trying to fix a little spot without taking everything apart. Don't try it. Doesn't work. You end up with the overdone-and-so-yesterday-splattered-toothbrush-paint look.

Finished decorating.

The boxes are actually gone.

Last year I left them out all year--in my room. Turned out to be a good move when it wouldn't stop snowing and the sheds outside were buried.

The piano is filled with breakable Mr Destructo and S-man temptations.

Took the Nester's advice and combined all four skinny garlands I had into one big one. I cannot believe I never even combined two together before--how did I survive with skinny garlands all this time and actually think they looked good?!

The horrors.

Tonight I made my famous orange fudge. I'm so full of myself. The first year it was great (I'm guessing from the feedback), and last year just good, so I think I brought it back to it's mighty goodness this year, for all those who care. You know who you are.

While I was trying to zest a Clementine on the top, I dropped it in.

Meanwhile, the husband was playing with the kids and S-man threw a toy at him. All I heard was a mad rush for the bathroom and the husband yelling, "He threw a toy at me and my ear's gushing blood!"

I thought he was kidding. Because he kids that way.

He wasn't.

I heard the inevitable, "Can you get blood out of a white shirt?"
He's a big boy, so I figured he could clean himself up, and went about my business.

While I was thinking of getting the camera to photograph my orange dropped in the fudge, the husband yelled, "Aubrey, You want to get the camera and take a picture of this for your blog?"

(Aren't they funny how they want blog attention all the while cursing blogging and it's direct effects on the messy house and unclothed children?)

Nice, isn't it? I took the picture and he asked, "How does it look?"

"It looks pretty bad." (Um, duh, right?)

"Oh," chuckle, "I meant the picture." Never mind that I'm bleeding down my face. Priorities.

Then I was talking about putting liquid band-aid on it, and Lexie honed in on 'band-aid' and asked her dad, "Do you want a Scooby-Doo or Dora band-aid?"

We're not outrageous or anything.

The weapon of mass destruction (that will involve Spray 'N' Wash).
Oh, just a little thing, I finally talked the husband into

a new sofa.

Uh, we figured out the secret to getting the seat covers on straight on the third cushion.

Love Ikea. Love Ektorp. Love slipcovers. I am so on top of getting Christmas presents done early this year.

That ear-cutter is leering like a Chucky doll.

The L-O-N-G Weekend

We are all tuckered out.

Yes that's the vacuum tube on his stomach.

The vacuum is on. He slept through it.

His father did it.

I wasn't home.

I think we survived the weekend unscathed. We did stay up until 2 AM, not one, but two nights (I wasn't even blogging!). The kids too.

Not.

We are getting older, but not much wiser, so it seems. And apparently with age comes redundancy, so it seems. We did not get to go to Hawaii like this person does every. other. year. Try not to hate her, she's really nice and my bff since 8th grade. Before texting and bff's, so it seems.

Anyway, we did turkey at my in-laws'. Since we had a smaller group than the usual 50 we have with my family and the common-sensical paper plates, I tried to play Eddie Ross. (I took baby steps, Martha.) (Eddie works for Martha.) (And she comments on his blog.) (Whoa.) (Well, I'm pretty sure it was her, but I couldn't actually check, so don'tquoteme.)

My centerpiece before Little Miss Sassy Pants came.

I think I love burlap. Because I'm so classy.

I wanted Mason jars at my wedding. Maybe Lex will let me use them at hers.

After she brought her acorns. Not a huge difference, but I'm learning here.

Our father-in-law's signature table setting. (With Sassy Pants' charger.)

Look hard, what's wrong with the picture?

It's all about convenience. Don't mess with us.

I made fancy drink.

It was cranberries garnished with beverage. It was supposed to be the other way around until I dumped Maine's entire harvest from this year into the bowl. I did it before I added the liquid so I wouldn't get splashed, but it's hard to guess proportions.

That's Mr Sassy Pants Jr. who got stuck with Barbie because Mr Destructo got the one Star Wars plate.

Lexie found a game. Her dad's excited to play it. They never figured out the rules. This Game is Bonkers has been kid-tested, mother disapproved, and scatters all over the floor really well.

This is Mexican Train Dominos. Prepare to burn your eyes out of their sockets. It's fun. I actually beat Mr Sassy Pants Sr. He always wins. Well, actually, his wife won, but I came in 2nd and smoked him. Sort of.

I have realized one of my life's great ambitions. I can die now. But I'm too lazy. And don't want to. I have to see what the Nester's up to.

Mr Destructo got into the wood-burning stove downstairs.

That was luckily not burning any wood.


The cousins played.
Yes Mr Destructo is in a girl's baby stroller.
With his younger i.e. smaller cousin pushing him.


Tiny Miss Sassy Pants chillin' with her peeps. I love it when they spit out their binks.


We took some photos of the brothers and their babies. Except that's the single (available) brother-in-law holding my baby. He only has a cat named Baby. That opted to stay at home. Thank goodness.


I tried for a new profile picture, but had jaundice. And I am always holding that baby.

And apparently have big wrinkles under my eye. Note to self, get new make-up. And go to bed before 2 AM.
And
New life ambition: get profile pic without S-man.


Took more brother picture's.

Single Brother adores Mr Sassy Pants Sr. He kept doing that!
I think Single Brother just wants to hold the baby and is telling Mr Sassy Pants Sr with his eyes.


More pictures of oldish bald men.
And two thrilledish babies.

Mr Destructo and Mr Sassy Pants Jr were awfully quiet while everyone was upstairs taking pictures?
Mr Destructo recruited.

And they got into the fireplace again.
(Mr Sassy Pants Jr was a little hungry I guess.)


The clean up: Mr Destructo has to be outnumbered--look at him holding up his hands like a criminal.

That was our cue.
We left soon after.
We had a lot of fun.

Sorry, my family, that we never showed up.

You ate pie without us anyway.

Sacrilege.

Next year I so want to play walking basketball. I really do.

Christy and Brandon, you know you want to come to our side again so we can hang out more.

The day after Thanksgiving my cousin got married. I forgot the salad dressing for my wedding-dinner-offering and we were pushing it to be on time before we had to go back for Kraft Raspberry Vinaigrette Light and totally missed the ceremony. So did one of my other cousins and his little family. And the cousin getting married? His brother totally fell asleep on the couch in the foyer and missed the whole thing too.

The cousin about to cut the cake is a Marine, if you didn't guess.I was not one of the photographers.

That's a fourth cousin holding his big fancy new Nikon D60 SLR that stands for Something Looking Really fancy that takes awesome pictures. I guess it's a Nikon D60 SLRFTTAP.

I have so many cousins. The mystery to disposable goods at Thanksgiving is solved.

My cousins' (another one) cute little daughter who always snags the flowers. Smart girl.


Amongst all the weekend's excitement, I harbored dreams of getting the hovel decorated for Christmas.
We got the tree up. It's making it's debut this year. It's bigger than the old one.
I thought it would be bringing more lights. Whatever.
We started decorating it.
With 7 ornaments, 7 strings of beads (we're all about beads, I also harbor hippie dreams), and it was attributed with 7 muttered-under-the-breath swear words. It's a heavy tree.
Nothing is sacred. Hello? S-man?! No touchie. See that blurb on the floor? It's the clicker that turns the lights on and off.
He already figured it out.
This picture looks familiar...
I have pictures of Mr D doing almost the same thing, but they wouldn't upload.

I made so much progress with the rest of the sty.
Hmm.
Wow.
The desk just vomited all that stuff. I've never seen it before. Two monitors? What two monitors?!
Packrat? What packrat?!
(Melissa--that's one of your baby's garlands on the back of that chair--what do you think so far?)
Breathtaking.

And just the look I was going for.
Georgeous.
The bathroom rug drying on a chair just completes it.
And we had a kidnapping.
Apparently the sheep got in the way.
I promise I don't have a fluorescent light bulb in the lamp right above it.
We've put out several Amber alerts and interrupted lots of bube-tube viewing, but to no avail. Good thing I'm a packrat and have like 13 other nativities.
Oh well, at least I already mailed out our family newsletter.
Don't hate me, I emailed it.
Try it, you might love it like I do.
Oh, and make that 3 nights until 2 AM. With early church. I am so smart.

Cannon, We Love You

Remember our paint-eating nibbler friend Cannon? He moved away this summer, but we miss him. Several months ago he told his mom he was going to marry Lexie and Mara, another little girl we go to church with and that she needed to buy him a wedding suit. Which sort of doesn’t help the Mormons-aren’t-polygamists-and-aren’t-the-same-as-the-FLDS-um-weirdies image we try to maintain, but I digress.
Cannon is five. His mom told him that after he goes on a mission, she’ll buy him a wedding suit, to which he insisted she needed to buy him one right then. Apparently Cannon doesn’t want anyone taking his women.

Just the other day, Lexie mentioned doing something or other when she grows up and marries Cannon.

Which brings us to tonight.

I was shopping with Lexie at Target, trying to find a birthday present for her friend. Of course she wanted several things for herself that I wouldn’t buy for her.
On the way home, the conversation went something like this:
She told me, “When I’m big, I can shop all by myself and buy whatever I want.”
“Yes you can, if you have enough money.” (Begin the anti-credit card campaign now.)
“I’ll probably have more money than you.”
“Yeah, but you’ll have to work hard to earn lots of money.”
“Well, Cannon will work when he grows up.”
Her priorities are in order. And she has big plans. Which will include a lot of money and doing whatever she wants. I hope Cannon can keep her in order.

Cannon, I think everyone Lexie misses you. The new neighbors' poodles are great, but they're not the same as playing with you and your sister. Poodles aren't into treasure hunts and sneaking out of their house at 10 at night to walk over and see if she can play.

Digging for treasure last April.

Which apparently even blind people can do too. Can't miss the hole with that shovel.

Why does her mom put her in suck dorky shorts?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone--I'll be five pounds heavier after tomorrow's record-breaking consumption of pie.

I am thankful for pie.

Blah, blah, blah

Lex was trying to teach me a song she learned.

She whispered in my ear (she's so shy about singing in front of us).

It went something like this (I can't remember all the words):

"There was a turkey strutting

In the barnyard all day long...

Blah Blah Blah"

When I asked her if that was what the turkey says, she said, "No I don't remember the rest of the words." Like mother, like daughter.



Remember the soy sauce? That I have yet to properly clean up? And still no one is convinced I am truly lazy. Maybe someone is.

Lexie's solution:

In her words (not ver batim--I don't remember them exactly, alas): It's a bridge so you don't step in it.

I bet Barbie's so happy that that's what we're using the canopy to her bed for.

By the way, Lexie's now a contributing editor to Bad Housekeeping.

And now I ask my question to the cosmos: Can that carpet get any nastier? I think not. Unless I get a dog. Oh the picture does not to the filth justice. I don't know why I feel so impelled to share that. So you feel better about yours? We still have plans to pull it up. I just don't know what to cut it with so we don't have to tear it out of the bedrooms and living room yet.

Now, do we like more condensed posts better, or looong, rambling, never-ending ones?

And, is it bad to get the same shoe in two different colors when I really should be buying Christmas presents for my kids and thinking about donating to one of the Christmas charities that is out of money and turning people away? Boy, do I feel selfish. But the mustard-yellow wedges for $14 at Target are so cute. And I like the tan, too.
I'll go find out how to donate now.

Mr D Strikes Again

I realize it's been a while since Mr Destructo's feature, but I've had to ground myself from and continue to monitor my computer usage. Plus we've had sickness ravaging the household but it wasn't so bad because it got me out of going to church today and my awesome husband took all the kids with him, leaving me in peace.
But, back to the incorrigible Mr Destructo.
Besides painting his nails blue and breaking a bottle of soy sauce on the carpet he decided to take an adventure. While I spent 3 1/2 hours on his post and then continued to dwell on the computer (unshowered) doing meaningless nothings while my hair got greasier and taller, I let the kids ride their bikes outside.
I was thrilled when Lex came running in with, "Mr Destructo's gone! I don't see him anywhere!"
Yes, thrilled.
People, I had B.O.
So, after driving around in the van for almost an hour, with thoughts running through my head of what the police would say to me when I had to report a missing child and I was totally fitting the part (look-wise) of a white trash mother who neglects my children, we found him.
After checking the park and hearing from two kids who tried to go after him that he disappeared before they could chase in earnest, and recruiting two other mothers, I found him almost a mile away.
He'd gotten past the ponds near our house and was just abandoning his bike to go on a walking adventure, it looked like. As I was collecting him, some van with a lady I don't know pulled up behind me and was talking on her phone and watching my boy. I'm waiting for the police to come after me.
When I'm on the news, I'll be advertising my blog. I need more readers to justify being on the computer for 8 hours straight. You heard me. I don't do it every day. That's why I grounded myself. And said, Dr Spock be damned, and spanked Mr Destructo. And have told him almost every day since that he cannot ride his bike to see the ducks by himself. Even though he bypassed the ducks.
Maybe he didn't want them to see his blue nails.

A Day in the Life of Mr Destructo

Yesterday I was wondering where the remote to our DVD player was.

If only I'd asked Mr Destructo.

He'd put it outside in the shed with a few uncased Thomas DVDs for safe-keeping.

Which makes me think of a few other choice things he's done.

Oh, the possibilities.

What? This isn't the garage!!!

These chicken fingers and fries look waaaaay better than stinky flowers.

Now you know why you keep so many of these around.

Wait, I think his little brother, a.k.a. Mr Tornado, did this one.

And he's 1.5.

(Just wait until he's 3.5.) (Wa-hoo.)

Don't ask.

Bath crayons.

Apparently being me is exhausting.

In the chair,

in the tub,

on a boat,

on back of the couch.

And eating dinner.

I can sleep there, Sam I Am.

But I want to wear big boy underwear NOW.

Over my diaper.

Because I don't already have enough toys and must wreak havoc in Mom's cupboards instead, like every other kid.

The games you never outgrow.

Because I'm fearless.
And like to attract the masses.

What I did not capture were the shots of him standing up there for several minutes at a time, not holding on. He hung out up there for almost an hour before climbing down.

Nothing like fresh toe jam in the morning.

Or afternoon.

After running around outside barefoot all day. Yum-o.

Because I just could. not. stay out of the pool during Sister's swimming lesson. I'm the reason that no matter how many times Lexie begged Mom to stay and watch her every day, she always had to say no. I'll just go ahead and strip right now.

Packing for a 5-day trip:
I know I can get all my clothes, and I mean ALL my clothes to fit. (He cleaned out his dresser drawers.)

Almost there...

I'm stuck.

Help Mom.

If she'd quit taking pictures and pull me out already.

Here's what happens when his uncles play with him.
The new time out spot?

Then there were the things I came home to the other night that I didn't take pictures of--a pumpkin on a VHS uncased movie (we're archaic around here and uncased, unprotected movies are our trademark) sitting on...

the side of the bathtub.

Plus, he was so kind as to get everybody's toothbrushes ready for the night, along with the spare toothbrushes (don't ask how many) and the counter. Now we're minty fresh.

And as I wrote this post, he painted his finger- and toenails with his sister's nail polish.

At least it was blue.

So manly.

It looked a lot like this:

Only this was white-out.

That wouldn't come out.

Don't we look so proud of ourselves?

With no pants on?

I'm sure rewarding them with taking pictures of their deeds makes for really effective future disciplining.

Oh and later--this happened under Mr Destructo's tutelage.

Any ideas for getting a whole bottle of teriyaki soy sauce out of carpet? I'm thinking we'll be saying a big hello to our wood floors in the hallway today.

I hated the carpet anyway.

Almost no children were harmed in the making of this post.