Last-Minute Dinner

This week we ate a lot of chicken and rice. By Thursday night, none of us could look a grain of rice in the eye (plus we didn't have any left) so I surveyed the fridge and the larder and came up with:

Sausage Frittata

Ingredients:

3 frozen mild Italian sausages (left over from last week), thawed out and cut into pieces
1 large Russet potato, cut into small dice
one large onion, diced
7 eggs, beaten
garlic salt
pepper


Saute sausage, onion together in little bit of olive oil in an oven proof skillet. Add potatoes. Cook stirring until potatoes are done. Season with a little bit of garlic salt and pepper. Add eggs, stirring gently into the meat/potato/onion mixture.

Preheat broiler to high.

When eggs are almost done, and just a little bit runny on top, place skillet under broiler. Cook until top is lightly browned.

Slide out onto serving plate. Slice and serve with a nice green salad.

YUM!

New Year, a month later...

No blog posts yet this year, eh? Well, it's been kind of busy. Plus when your laptop is on top of the lap of your four-year old and he's on your lap, it makes things a little more, shall we say, challenging. And you've just made dinner and cleaned it up. And you've just made muffins with said four-year old and haven't cleaned up that mess yet. And your eight year old is upstairs with his daddy, stressing out about his spelling homework. And your four year old wants to do a puzzle of the United States of America RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!

On the exercise front: NO swimming (still too cold for me), a teeny bit of biking, some running (say, 2-3 miles, 2-3 times a week). Haven't picked my next event/race. I'm contemplating Bay to Breakers (early reg deadline: April 30th, race date: May 17th). I'm still practicing aikido twice a week and just found out that I should be testing for 3rd kyu sometime in March. Eeek! I thought I was all over test anxiety. Guess I was wrong.

I've got a presentation to do for work on March 6th that I'm already starting to worry about (hey, it's never to early for that).

In the meantime, I'm folding paper airplanes. Lots of paper airplanes. See, we (read D) got a paper-airplane-a-day calendar for Christmas. P is obsessed with it. Never let's me forget to fold one. It is February 5th. You do the math, that's a lot of airplanes and it's only the first week of February!!! But they are a lot of fun to fold and they are a lot of fun to fly. I bet it will make me popular with the below-5 set.

Ramble, ramble, ramble.

50 seconds to muffin time!

Got to go.

Musings on Clothes, Dirty and Clean

It's strange how there's a certain peace in folding laundry. In finding the partner for a sock and stacking the folded shirts in a pile. I figure I must do about 6 loads of laundry a week, more if it's time to do the sheets and towels. Dirty clothes in, clean clothes out. They don't fold themselves. They don't go back to their closets and drawers by themselves.

Whoever said that there's nothing certain in life but death and taxes left out laundry.

No sooner do I empty the hampers are they filled again.

Yet, I don't really mind doing the wash. Thank goodness for the washer. I'm sure I'd have a much different attitude if I had to do stuff by hand. In my life, if it can't survive the washer, it does not deserve to be worn. Also, ironing is a VERY SPECIAL OCCASION ONLY deal. Sometimes I wonder if people look at M's pants sometimes and wonder, "How can his wife let him leave the house in those?" Little do they know that 'his wife' hung them up on the hanger in that condition, ready to do.

I guess I have this false hope that hanging will help straighten out the worst of the wrinkles.

I sit here typing, glancing over to my mountain of folded clothes and at the basket of whites staring me in the face. Lots of socks need homes.

Time to go find them.

Yes, I know. 'She finally decides to blog again and it's about LAUNDRY?' What can I say? The muse came upon me and I had to sit down and go with the flow.

Grateful

For family and friends, near and far.

For little boys who are growing up so quickly.

For a home full of love and laughter (and tears and shouting) and hugs and kisses (and bandaids and icepacks).

For love, and life.

For a chance, with each new day, to be grateful all over again.

A Rude Awakening

This morning, I was the next to the last person picked from the audience to be a contestant on 'Jeopardy!'.

I was so excited. I made my way down the aisles and up the stage. I took my place behind the podium. I was ready to go.

And then P woke me up.

Dang it! I could have won MEGA BUCKS!!!

I am Full

As I sat watching the television last night, immersed in Obama's speech, I was full.

My glass was full of champagne.

My eyes were full of tears and then they overflowed.

My heart was full of pride.

As I looked at my children, watching with me, my whole being was full of love and hope.

Two Down

Same course as last year but it seems like there are many, many more participants. Checking the results afterward showed that there were almost twice the total number of women who completed the race this year.

Pre-race: This year, I've convinced a friend from work to do the triathlon with me. D and I arrive at the site at 6:45 am. D's wave starts at 8:10, mine at 8:15. We find a decent spot in the transition area although it's apparent that we've missed all the really good ones near the exit. So many people! We get our chips and our bodies marked.

8:10 : D is off! Woo! Woo!

8:12 : Getting ready to start. Step in water. Er, sludge. No seriously, the shore was black and very goopy. Think wet, think slimy. The water was opaque. Look to right, look to left. Everyone else's face is slightly disgusted. I'm going swimming in this? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew!

8:15 SWIM START : Yes! I'm going swimming in this. Here we go. Goggles on. Goggles fill with water. I'm getting kicked, there are people all around. (Hindsight: My wave was the largest of the race. 174 women. Last year, the field was 78.) I come up for air and swallow water. Don't think about what's in the water! Keep moving. Try to clear goggles while swimming. FAT CHANCE. Getting run into from behind. Argh! All that nice freestyle practice? Fuggedaboutit! About the only thing I can do is breaststroke otherwise I'm running into people and have no idea which direction I'm headed. Must keep going. A couple times I catch a break and do a few strokes of crawl then it's back to breaststroke again. I'm breathing really hard. Much harder than I should be. I try to calm down and keep moving. As I make the second turn and head for the shore, the field suddenly seems to clear up and I don't have anyone in front of me. I freestyle towards the shore, pop out of the water, rip off my goggles and fill my cap with water. I also notice that my watch has lost its waterproof-ness and is now history. I'm a little bummed but I must focus. Now, where was that bike again? Second picnic table, turn right, two rows behind the three mylar balloons. (Apparently, one of our friends who came to watch saw me come out of the water and was screaming my name and shouting encouragement. I didn't hear a thing. Was totally in the zone. Must find bike.)

T1: Take my swim cap of water and empty it into my little plastic bin. Step into bin and rinse off my feet. Feel extremely pleased with my resourcefulness as my feet are now clean(er) and not sandy anymore. OK. Shirt. Check. Shorts. Check. Socks. Check. Shoes. Spray on sunscreen. Little bit of energy gel. Drink too. Get on bike. Get going!

Bike: AWESOME! I love the bike ride this year. I felt strong and steady. I feel like I could ride on and on and on. My little bike computer tells me I'm going at a pretty good clip. I think I have a chance of lowering my time from last year.

T2: Ripped through this one. Dropped off bike. Dropped helmet. Grabbed hat. One sip. Go!

Run: Argh. Not an auspicious start. There was water to be had right away but after I take a drink, it goes down the wrong tube. I try not to choke and keel over. It was only 3 miles but it felt long, long, long. When the final stretch was in sight, I couldn't wait to cross the finish line. Time to lengthen strides. Look for boys. Then two women come blowing by me as they sprinted to the end. Oh well. Maybe next year that will be me.

Cause there will be a next year.

Final time: Three minutes faster than last year. Yipee!