With An Apple I Will Astonish Paris

The Fresh Beat Band and The Imagination Movers are quickly moving up to overtake The Wiggles and Yo Gabba Gabba on my list of truly annoying kids shows.  I could live in peaceful splendor for the rest of my life if these shows were cancelled and the actors never found another job for all eternity.  I’m selfish that way.

I tried out a new recipe yesterday that I feel obligated to share.  It’s so easy and it’s so good, my child who hates all foods loves this delicacy .  On top of that, it’s perfect for the coming holiday season.

Cinnamon Apples
2 tbsp water
1 tbsp butter
1 tsp ground cinnamon
¼ tsp ground nutmeg
½ cup firmly packed lt. brown sugar
2 lbs apples, peeled, cored, sliced thin

– Combine cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar, and apples in a large ziploc bag.  Close securely and shake well until all apple pieces are coated.
– In medium saucepan, cook apple mixture with 2 tbsp water and 1 tbsp butter over medium heat, stirring occasionally 10-12 mins or until apples are tender.

Serve alone or over vanilla ice cream!

I love the smell of apples and cinnamon in my kitchen, and I have to tell you guys…Glade ain’t got nuthin’ on this stuff!

 

I Think I’ll Trick-Or-Treat Tomorrow, Too.

So here’s something you might not have known already:  Apartment complexes are crappy places to go trick-or-treating.

In our building alone, there are a total of 24 apartments.  Only one, that I know of, is empty.  In the complex itself, there are 12 buildings.  That’s 288 apartments.

(You’re probably reacting right now the same way I did when I figured it out. Holy shit, we’re getting a buttload of candy tonight!)  After the first two buildings (48 apartments) and exactly TWO PIECES of candy, Ryan and Andy and I were getting quite discouraged.  Apparently the days of trick-or-treating an entire neighborhood without the possibility of no one being home are gone.

By the time Ryan decided to give up on his candy this year, which I do believe is something approaching heresy amongst children under age 12, it was too late to find another neighborhood to hit.

Mom, if you’re reading this…PLEASE don’t call me to tell me that I should have done something.  I know I should have.  I DID do something.

When we got home, Ryan wanted to play in his Storm Trooper costume for just a while longer.  While he played his new video games, I gathered all the candy I had in the house (quite a lot) and dumped it all into the spare trick-or-treat pumpkin.  I went to his bedroom and shut the door and locked it.

Then I knocked.

Knocked again.

It wasn’t long before I heard his little voice call for me.

When he realized that he couldn’t open the door himself, HE knocked.

“Who is it?” I asked.
“Mama, it’s Ryan.”
“Ryan who?” *snicker*
“Ryan Lehman!!”

When I opened the door, he smiled at me and I asked him where his trick-or-treat bag was.  His eyes lit up and he made a mad dash to the other side of the apartment to find it.  I filled his bag with Pixy Sticks, Smarties, chocolates, gum, and even a fruit roll up or two.

He told me a few minutes ago that this was the best birthday.

I think I passed this one.

Triangle Shaped Sandwiches Taste Better Than Regular Sandwiches

I don’t have writer’s block quite bad enough to get nauseous every time I sit in front of a word processor, but it’s damn near close. My last ‘real’ blog was written so long ago that I can’t remember what it was about anymore, and inspiration for a new one just isn’t happening.

But I want to write. And I just started a sentence with the word BUT. I swear that ‘and’ just snuck up on me.

What happened to the Kate that wrote so many blogs and had such a following that she couldn’t keep up with everyone? She sort of faded away, thinking that a new move meant new responsibilities and writing a blog every day just didn’t seem to be high on that list of priorities. She settled into a job that she hates, into an apartment with rude neighbors, and suddenly had to deal with 3rd grade ethics on a daily basis.

As odd as it seems, she ran out of ideas. Nothing to write about.

Week by week, Kate fell a little further from her goal. She moved what she had written of her book to the “Unused” folder on her desktop where she wouldn’t have to look at it and be reminded that she hadn’t written a single word on it in over 5 months. She quit logging into Facebook every 20 minutes, and just quit Myspace altogether. Because her crappy job would only allow her to work weekends, the very days that she most wanted to be home, her main focus during the week turned into whether or not Andy had enough clean work shirts to get through until Friday and what time to start cooking the frozen salisbury steak so that dinner would be ready by 6pm.

Apparently, that was a big mistake.

Kate had turned into a repressed, DEpressed, giant ball of shit.

One night, while Kate sat at her crappy job with nothing to do but reread a Stephen King novel for the 3rd time, she opened up Wordpad on the lobby computer and started to type. It didn’t come easy at first. She took a break to eat some potato soup. She took another break to play some Bejeweled Blitz. When that didn’t help, she took one more break (that lasted for almost 2 hours) to talk to her bestest hetero-lifemate on the phone. Finally, Kate decided that she couldn’t wait anymore. The time had come for her to shit or get off the pot.

Kate started to write about why she wasn’t writing. Her intention was to start a brand SPANKING new blog and force herself back into the old swing of things. In writing, she realized that there were so many things for her to write about, that she wasn’t going to be able to fit it all into one blog. Her crappy job. Her rude neighbors. Third grade ethics. Andy. Liz. Dreams. Triangle shaped sandwiches.

Thanks guys, I needed that.