Didn't make it to the groovy outing this weekend, which bums me out a little; but I don't know exactly how I would handle more evidence that I am wasting the best of my years worshiping at the feet of the Blockbuster movie club, or more acknowledgement that some people's worlds are interesting and large, and mine... well, mine is not.
Ah, PMS! I feel your sweet embrace!
Perhaps THAT could be why I am insatiable lately, didn't even consider it until I pulled out my appointment book (phone) and mapped it out-- damn! When I worked at a women's health clinic years ago, I was always amazed at how 14 year old girls knew with amazing accuracy when their "friends" would arrive... me, I'm pushing 40 and still have no clue.
Could be why everything is making me crazy, including this stupid keyboard in which the space button, for cripes sake, isn't working correctly. Considering that this is where the children play their games/do my space, etc, there is likely enuff food under the keys to feed a hungry toddler... it's a wonder it works at all and I should be grateful, instead of wanting to throw the whole thing under a moving train-- gar! Soo getting tired of having to go back and put all the spaces in between the words, wahhhhhhh!
Interesting weekend, to be sure. Grace's counselor suggested that we try and do something with the girl, something she wanted to do, in an effort to spend time with her/get to know her/etc. Never you mind that every time we try to talk to her, she tells us to either "shut up" or "go away", and tells us "I don't know" when we ask her what she would like to do.... so in the absence of the slightest idea, we gleaned a little:
She was talking earlier in the day about some shop she and her friends had travelled to the day before, which had some items she really liked.
So off we went, in search of things to buy to demonstrate our parental interest and love.
So where did my daughter take us???
To a head shop in Racine, ick!, which reeked of patchouli, incense, and other such things I swore off years and years ago. I mean, really-- is this crap genetic? Girl knows very little about my past (she could care less, as surely it was lame and of no interest to a hipster like herself, lol!); about my travelling with the Grateful Dead (had to chuckle at the vast array of Jerry and GD merchandise... um, most of those geezers are long gone), and my opening a shop much like this one (only like 1000x nicer; no drug paraphernalia, nasty piercing stuff... it was all handmade artwork and imports from India, Guatemala, Bali, etc).
So I'm standing in this shop with my kid and I'm thinking: "I don't have any clue who this girl is anymore", this teenager who (unbeknownst to me) has been dilating the piercings in her ears (my appeal that she will have droopy gramma holes that will never heal fell on deaf earlobes; she pulled out her piercing and I almost fell over when I saw the gaping hole, so gross!), this girl who is standing on the precipice of being just a little too much like me as a young person-- only way younger, much more immature, and much too eager for all the trouble that surrounds her.
Me, I was so much more of a spectator: found things fascinating, yet was unwilling to commit to any one lifestyle and would move on to the next shiny and interesting thing as soon as I felt I had figured the old one out (I was also somewhat concerned about getting in TROUBLE: didn't want to really get too involved in anything that might be a problem later, you know, if I wanted to run for public office later in life, tee hee).
Daughter, however, loves it all, and it makes me a little nervous.
We ended an unsettling afternoon by stopping by the Old Country Buffet, where Grace used to love to go with her grandpa. Place is quite the melting pot, I'll tell ya: there was a 450# lady who was talking about her pregnant 14 year old and how she needed another trip to the dessert bar, if only her arthritic knees could carry her there; a booth of fine Hispanic men who looked like they wanted to eat my daughter for dessert (and my husband, the sweet talker said "they were even checking YOU out", as if a booth full of men who would screw any drunken thing they could immobilize for 45 seconds wouldn't be so desperate to oogle an old broad like myself-- hey! If you don't have enuff sex appeal to entice those sorts of guys, you might as well just sew it up and move in with the nuns next door).
Oh! And then there was the group of ladies who were with a baby shower who were standing next to me at the salad bar wearing nametags that said: "Baby Poop", and "Spitup", etc : mmmmmmmmm! That's a tasty visual, ho ho ho. Good thing the folks from NAACOG weren't meeting there, with humorous nametags that read:"Pap Smear", "Genital Warts", or "Herpetic Lesion", might have been a little yucky... but I suppose, now that I think about it, me and the ladies from work could get in on the fun: I could be "Irritable Bowel" (get it? PMS???), and someone could be "Colon Polyp", and another could be "Bowel Prep", wheeee! We could hang out by the gravies and gross people out into eating their mashed potatoes dry...
Anyhoo, told ya I was bitchy!
Fabulous PMS food (and low carb, for the most part..)
Heat in a pan for 10-15 minutes, stirring constantly with a spatula:
1 15 oz can pumpkin (I threw in a cooked sweet potato that we had left over from dinner the other day, too)
Bunch of ginger (1-2 tbs fresh or 1-2 tsp ground)
1/2 tsp cinnamon, to taste
1/2 tsp nutmeg, to taste
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup sugar free vanilla syrup
In a separate bowl, mix 1 cup milk with 4 eggs until well blended. Whisk in pumpkin mixture until smooth.
Bake at 325 degrees in a casserole dish that is immersed in a larger pan filled 1/2 full with water. Bake for 50-60 minutes until center almost set; prop over door open with a pot holder and allow to sit for 20-30 minutes until custard is set. Refrigerate overnight, and try not to eat the whole thing for breakfast... Jacob really liked this served with extra maple syrup, lucky little dude! Soooo glad we have a gallon left until we can make more next spring:-)
p.s. my bad knee is getting wonky, completely blue about that as well. WTF will I do if it blows out, and I can't participate in my acts of daily absolution?
Won't end up doing all 3 classes tomorrow in an effort to be cautions, just spin and swim. Pretty sure it was the stoopid scuplting class "walking with resistance bands wrapped around your feet" thingey that messed up my ligaments, boo. And I've been trying to be so careful! Anyway... I remember reading something somewhere (hazard of reading 6 things at once... minimal retention) about your joints and ligaments being more labile during your special girlie time, bah! Stupid hormones!
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