Things You Notice as You Lay Dying

I'm the world's snarkiest sick person. Fevers make me perfect and the rest of the world decidedly not. Case in point: Ellie Krieger. On Tuesday I woke up from an unplanned nap on the couch to find her show playing on T.V. I would normally rejoice at the opportunity to watch anything other than the Disney channel but, because I was sick, I couldn't concentrate on anything but her preternaturally smooth forehead.




Seems our Ms. Krieger is friends with Mr. Botox. At first I was mildly amused. She's on T.V. and is probably under all sorts of pressure to look young and pretty by some leathery, old toad in a suit. I don't upload my pictures on flickr until I airbrush the hell out of my wrinkles, so who's to say what I would do in her position? My amusement, however, quickly turned to annoyance around the 32nd time she opened her eyes freakishly wide. I guess Ellie realized that a frozen forehead lacks a certain emotive power. To counteract her frozen face, she repeatedly opened her eyes really, really, really wide while the corners of her eyebrow muscles quivered at the strain of almost being used. She looked like she had Grave's Disease.


Ellie, Ellie, Ellie. Didn't I just read a year or so ago your article on the powerful effect of good nutrition on skin? What happened? Did you finally realize that broccoli and carrots don't pack quite the same punch as Botulinum Toxin Type A?

I was in a lather by the time The Mister came home.

The Mister: "Hey. How are you feeling?"
Jules: "I'd be feeling a lot better if Ellie Krieger would stop making those damn googley eyes at me."
The Mister: "What?"
Jules: "Exactly. And she needs another 5cc's over her left brow. I think I saw movement when she pulled out the blender."
The Mister: "Not feeling any better?"
Jules: "NoI'mnotfeelinganybetter! I'm dying! Feel my forehead. Is it hot? It's totally hot, right? Hot and wrinkled, Ellie. Hot and wrinkled. Look! Did you see that?! She did it again!" {click}
The Mister: "You do feel warm. Maybe you should put down the camera and get some sleep."
Jules: "Yeah. Well. Maybe."

.............

P.S. I'm sure you must be wondering what kind of loser sleeps with her camera. Well, I have a perfectly good explanation. Fevers make you sleepy. You just can't fight it! Try as I might, I kept falling asleep on the couch and waking up in a panic, confident Mickey and Nicholas were in all sorts of trouble. At one point, I just wanted to pull them over and say, "Look, Mama is very, very sick. I'm going to save us all a bunch of time and hand over the Henckels right now. Remember: blades out and quick, short jabs. OK? Good. Now give Mama a kiss before she slips into a coma."

They never got into the knives, thank goodness, but Mikey did find my camera. That's why I have an awesome picture of this green thing, presumably in my house.



I'm not positive, but I think this is the sun.



At some point Nico wanted in on the fun, but Mikey pulled rank. Nico had no choice but to scream bloody murder. I shot up ten feet in the air from a dead sleep. After I landed, I took my temperature (103!) and decided everyone needed a nap. After the boys were tucked in bed, I went back to the couch and watched 3.2 seconds of Paula Deen fondling mayonaise before falling asleep. I woke up a couple of hours later to Ellie's frozen face and a camera on the ottoman next to my tissues. Mikey must have dropped it there during the mel'ee.

So, you see, I'm not a loser who sleeps with her camera. I'm a loser with a fever who takes blurry pictures of TV chefs who may or may not be using Botox. There's a big difference.

Sick Day

Everyone but The Mister is sick around these parts. Me, Nico, Mikey, Baby Mickey, Woody, Buzz Lightyear, Baby Red Bird, Soccer Mickey, Big Mickey, and Santa-Winnie-the-Pooh are fighting some sort of pandemic threatening to take us all down. So, I may or may not be posting for a couple of days--at least until our fevers are down. Taking care of two sick little ones is pretty miserable when you're sick, too. I'm trying to think of something witty and funny to sign off with, but I'm too tired. I will say this: Definitely not my favorite moment. ;)

Call Me Gregor Samsa

Have you ever read Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis? In this classic short story the main character, Gregor Samsa, wakes up and discovers that during the night he has transformed into, basically, a giant cockroach. I found an e-text version here for those of you unfamiliar with the story. Something similar happened to me not too long ago. No, I didn't wake up with an exoskeleton; it was much more sinister. I woke up and realized I'm turning into my mother.

It all started out innocently enough when I realized that she sure was smart to store her shoes in their respective shoe boxes and forgo a shoe organizer. If you were to go into my mother's closet you would see almost every pair of shoes she owns boxed and waiting on the top shelf of her closet. The only shoes relegated to the floor are her slippers and one or two pairs of shoes that she uses when she needs to do something outside, like take out the trash. I used scoff and go on and on about the time she wasted opening boxes. She pointed out that rifling for shoes on the floor of your closet while pushing aside the clothes hitting your face was the true waste of time. She was right.

One day while visiting her with the boys I decided to let her know she had a point about the shoes, and, during a moment of insanity, mentioned I should just do what she does and hope my house turns out half as organized as hers. She thought that was just great and started giving me all sorts of tips, which I promptly ignored. The clincher came at the end of the visit when I failed to return the TV remote control to it's rightful place in the TV Remote Control Caddy. For shame! She complained. I noted that she was crazy. She then delivered this little coup de grace, "Well, if you want to be like me you need to put things away in their proper location."

Oh. My. God. I left thirsty for many adult beverages.

Then, last week, the unspeakable happened. Again it turns out my mother was correct. This time about Tupperware and plastic containers. She hates all plastic items and thinks Tupperware is a waste of money. I've tried to bring her over to my side, but she won't budge. Instead, my mom continues to use the same Corning Ware containers for the last, oh, 30 plus years. You know the ones--they're white and they have the little blue flowers on the side. Yeah, those.

Here is how it all went down. I have a set of Corning Ware but only because I bought it as a wedding present and for one reason or another we never gave the set to the couple. It sat, unopened, in my garage for a couple of years because at the time Corning Ware = mom = shudder. I wanted something different. Something better. Eventually I got over it and started using them to serve food. They were fine, but nothing to hang onto desperately for 30 plus years. That is, until last week.


I was just getting ready to set up my lasagna in my favorite 13x9x2 pan when I realized it was still playing host to an orange cake. I picked out one of the Corning Ware dishes as a last resort. In fact, see that one on the right holding the food? That's the one I used.


Anyway, I set up the lasagna, put it in the oven, and when it was ready took it out and put it on the table. Hmm. That was easy. Then when we were done with dinner I--wait for it--put the lid on it and put the leftovers in the refrigerator. Sacre bleu! What is this?! I went from cooking to serving to storing in one fell swoop! I know you all think I'm crazy right now, but even though I watched my mom do this for 20 some odd years the practicality of it never really occurred to me. Now, looking back over the last 10 or so years, I'm the schmuck who cooked in a pan, served in a bowl, then stored in a Tupperware container. I've been cleaning three times as many dishes.

I hate to say it, but the older I get the "righter" my mom gets. This is an outrage! What's next? Blazers and sensible shoes?! I can't believe I'm admitting this, but now I'm thinking I need to expand my Corning Ware collection. I know, crazy. I always knew I would cherish my mom's Corning Ware dishes simply because they were hers ( she drive me crazy, but I love her). I just never thought I would actually find the God awful things practical.

Getting older is scary business. Scary business, indeed.

Favorite Moment

I've noticed an interesting trend on my visitor stats for the blog. The "Favorite Moment" feature is consistently the most popular. That doesn't say much, but still. Quite a number of you have picked up on my crack-pot routine and check the blog late Friday evening or Saturday morning. In just a few short months you all have learned I could never decide on my favorite moment before the 11th hour.

I actually enjoy deciding on my favorite moment. The process forces me to reflect back on the week and sift through moments I would probably forget were it not for this exercise. My favorite moments are hardly exciting because, quite simply, I lead an exceptionally dull life. To date, I have written about my hair, my dogs, my friends, my drink, and Mickey Mouse. Still, all 5 of you keep coming back and it's either because you keep hoping I'll write about something exciting (I won't) or you, too, appreciate the fulfillment found at 2:37pm on Tuesday when a stranger steps out of line to carry your items to the register just so you can weave your 32 ft long double stroller through the slalom course of sale rounders. (Thanks, 7ft tall African American man at Aaron Brothers! You were freakishly tall and chewed maniacally on a powder-blue floss pick, but that little act of kindness made my day and you, sir, are my favorite moment this week.)

So, I started thinking that it might be nice if all of us made a concerted effort to capture those little fragments in time that we would otherwise forget. William Lyon Phelps once wrote,

"One appreciates that daily life is really good when one wakes from a horrible dream, or when one takes the first outing after a sickness. Why not realize it now?"

Mr. Phelps, I do believe you are on to something. So, I started my very first public flickr group called Things I Hope to Never Forget. I am basically trying to catalog fleeting memories (good, bad, and indifferent). Anyone can join, so come on over and share your favorite moments. In the meantime, I'll try to organize it a bit better and send off some invitations to those of you in my email address book.

See you there!

Melamine v. Ceramic: Mixed Feelings

The wedding gift we have used the most over the last eight years wasn't even on our registry. My sister-in-law's sister-in-law (got that?) gave us a 3-piece set of of white, melamine OXO Mixing bowls with a pour spout lip. I registered for a ceramic mixing set, but she dismissed the set as heavy, cumbersome, and prone to breaking. I chipped the pour spout off the largest mixing bowl before we were even married six months, ironically enough, but have continued to use them several times a week over the years because they really are very handy. In fact, until recently, I loved my melamine bowls. After 8 years, though, the bottom rubber part is starting to corrode. They stick to my shelves, and I can't set them on my counter without leaving behind a hard rubber residue that I have to scrape off with a butter knife. I need new bowls. Is it time to make the switch to ceramic and leave behind melamine forever?

Here are the bowls I'm contemplating. The first set is melamine and retails for $29.99. It has 6 nesting mixing bowls, and is from the Martha Stewart collection for Macy*s.


The second set is ceramic and retails for $39.99. It has 5 nesting mixing bowls and is also part of the Martha Stewart Collection for Macy*s.


I get one more bowl with the melamine set, but the ceramic set might be pretty enough to serve from. I think. I haven't seen them in person.

Which do you prefer: Melamine or ceramic? [gulp] Both?

Dinner Challenge: Chicken & Rice Casserole Thingy with Frenchs Fried Onions

Dinner really doesn't get much easier than this recipe. This one comes from my mother-in-law (hi, Pam!) and she swears she got it off the back of a Durkee's can of fried onions. I've whipped Google into a sweat over the last few years trying to get an official recipe, but to no avail. Why an official recipe? Because my mother-in-law gave her copy away years ago and I would like to see if the original had any secret ingredients we might be missing out on. If she did get it off the back of a can I doubt we're missing anything more exciting than pepper, so I'm not going to stress about giving an incomplete recipe. If you happen to have the original recipe, please let me know if I'm missing anything!

Chicken & Rice Casserole Thingy with Frenchs Fried Onions

4 Chicken breasts
3 cups Chicken stock
3 cups Instant rice, dry
1/4 cup Italian salad dressing
1 pkg. Frozen, mixed vegetables (broccoli, carrots, water chestnuts works well)
1 can Fried Onions

Preheat oven to 375.

In a dutch oven or large, oven proof pot with lid add salad dressing and turn burner to medium. Slice chicken breast into large, bite-sized pieces and add to the pot.

Brown chicken in salad dressing until barely pink inside. Add entire bag of frozen vegetables and allow to steam in pot for a couple of minutes while you to measure out the stock and rice.

Add chicken stock to pot with chicken and vegetables. Stir briefly to coat, and then add rice. Turn off stove and cover with lid. Let sit for five minutes. Take off lid and stir into chicken and rice mixture 1/3 of the can of onions. Oh yeah. Don't worry if there is still broth in the pot. It will steam off in the oven.

Without removing lid, place covered pot in oven and let cook for 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, start checking your vegetables. When they are done to your liking, pull the pot from the oven, remove lid, and sprinkle the remaining can of onions on top of rice. Put back in the oven, without the lid, and allow to onions until the are golden brown and crispy, about 5 minutes.

You Can Thank Me for the Rain

I just can't seem to keep water-filled glasses in an upright position. In fact, I have spilled no less than 4 glasses of water since Christmas. It all started during an innocent lunch at California Pizza Kitchen. I reached across the table to hand something to Nicholas, knocked over my full glass of water, and watched in horror as it splashed all over The Mister and Mikey. The waiter came over with a towel and a look that said such behavior is best reserved for those still developing synapses.

Over the course of the last 3 weeks I have managed to spill three more glasses of water. My latest ham-handed attempt at civilized behavior occurred tonight, while preparing dinner. The most pathetic part of all of this? I didn't even realize I spilled the water until it occurred to me that onions really aren't that juicy and, if they were, my eyes would be burning like miniature meteors in my skull.

So, because I am to the left of normal, I decided that clearly the universe is trying to send me signs. Who better to decipher this code than my friend, Google? One ten minute search later and the results are in.

1. Something bad is going to happen.
2. I can expect good luck in the future.
3. I am pregnant.
4. It is going to rain.

Numbers 1 and 2 cancel each other out, which is fine by me because I don't like surprises. Number 3 just doesn't work for me right now. I couldn't possibly take on another psyche to indelibly scar. I'm only one person, you know? That leaves me with number 4. So, for those of you who, like myself, enjoy the rain and are currently experiencing quite a bit of it--all I can say is you're welcome.