It Can Always be Worse . . .

Feeling much better today. Much, much better.

It's been a rough few days here as a nasty case of viral gastroenteritis (commonly, although incorrectly, referred to as stomach flu) ripped through the house. Man, does that suck!

If you missed the post a couple of days back, the disease impacts the ol' digestive system and fires fluid out every available orifice. In addition, fever, muscle aches and pains, and the sapping of all energy.

Sontoo picked it up first and passed it on to Neomom and me. And the adults took it far worse than the young one. Sonwun has somehow managed to dodge this one so far, thank goodness and knock wood.

The house is a disaster as, for the last two days, neither one of us could muster the energy for all but the basics. Feed children, change diapers, change movie, turn on Wii, put children to bed. There are toys all over the floor, the kitchen is a mess, blankets cover all furniture (in case of accidental toddler discharge) and there is a mountain of sweaty laundry.

And you know, all that stuff doesn't bother me today. It seems that just when you think your life is difficult, fate sends you a little gift like this to remind you that, well, it can always be worse.

And, the worst seems to be behind me this morning. My head is clear, my temperature is just under 100 and I'm ready to get the house back in order. I hope Neomom wakes up feeling the same way.

And that's all I have this morning. The last two days may or may not have contained amusing incidents. I don't remember. Fever fog and apathy.

Have a great Thursday!

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

The good news is that Sontoo's tummy troubles were apparently of the 24-hour variety. So yesterday, he did not throw up once.

Neomom, on the other hand, got her turn. So she was home all day yesterday.

And again, the good news is that she's feeling much better today and has returned to work.

The bad news is that today is my turn. Feel like crap. So, very short post.

See you tomorrow, hopefully.

Tummy Trouble

So, rough day yesterday.

And it started so optimistically. Got a decent night's sleep, blog completed before anyone else woke up, good attitude.

In spite of the forecast of "flurries" overnight and into Sunday, I awoke Sunday morning to a good four or five inches on the ground and plenty falling. This continued and the forecast was modified to include a snowfall warning. Hmm. A little off there boys. Enjoy that job!

Anyhoo, the snow didn't bother me as I had no plans at all to leave the house. Neomom was working and the boys and I were quite happy to hunker down for some Mario Kart, a little laundry, a little cleaning . . . a typical kinda day, plus Mario Kart.

Just before breakfast, however, Sontoo projectile vomited all over the kitchen, himself and me. No biggie. My optimism was alive. At least he didn't hit the carpet, or one of the couches, chairs or dog. Easy clean-up and it gets me started on the laundry early. See? A silver lining on the cloud of puke.

I'm watching Sontoo from here on. He seems happy, no fever, good appetite at breakfast. Must have been the milk he had earlier. Didn't agree with him.

So, he's playing in the living room about half an hour after breakfast and . . . FIRE TWO! This one got his favourite blankets, an area rug and his fresh pajamas. In the process of pajama removal, it also got his hair pretty good.

Okay, the area rug is machine washable, as are his clothes. At least he didn't get the furniture.

Got that one cleaned up, Sontoo got a bath and then it was just all smiles and sunshine until lunch. Oh, I mean smiles, sunshine and diarrhea. He's now fillin' diapers like sandbags in New Orleans before Katrina.

So, my shirt smells like puke, there's the aroma of poop everywhere, my fingers have that Desitin stuff smell (to ward off related diaper rash) . . . but hey, it's almost lunchtime.

Sontoo turned up his nose at the Kraft Dinner. Usually loves the stuff and I figured it was important to get some food in him. Fair enough, the most critical element is drinking and he did put away a fair bit of liquid.

After lunch and another diaper change he settled in for his nap and made it through until 3:30 without another gastronomical eruption.

Again, happy, smiling, no fever when he got up. More juice. And then Round 3. The living room chair took a small hit, and his favourite blankets were mortally wounded. When I got him out of the chair, he did his impression of a moving lawn sprinkler, walking five steps, puking, five more, more puke: covering the maximum amount of floor space.

(Now this is where Sonwun nearly lost his life. As I am scrambling to minimize damage and maximize paper towel use, he has the nerve to say "Daddy, you're in the way. I can't see Mario Kart! Relax, he's still alive.)

Anyway, to wind up this long story and make it a little shorter, we made it through supper and bedtime. But after about 2 hours in bed, the poor little sucker woke up and created a pool in his bed and destroyed about five books with Volley Number 4.

As I write this at 5:20 a.m., I can now hear him in the baby monitor calling for me. A new day begins. (Pause to fetch Sontoo).

Wow, a dry diaper and he's now sitting in the living room chair (which is covered by a blanket) downing his first juice of the day. Here's hoping it comes out where it's supposed to. Wish me luck.

Have a great Monday!

A trip around the Weird

So . . . 5 a.m. The house sleeps on.

This morning, I played one of my favourite games, "Next Blog."

It involves that button at the top of your screen by the same name. It opens a portal to new worlds, new minds, new philosophies, new lives. And it seems infinite.

Don't know if you've ever hit that button before or not. But if you haven't, and you have a little time on your hands, I dare you.

This morning, I took a short trip through the life of a man cycling through India. I read several accounts of "why men suck" by women with relationship issues. I was treated to the works of a number of excellent photographers. I learned a little bit about why some people feel the need to cut themselves with razors.

As I said, the list is endless and every time you push the Next Blog button, a new world awaits. Some I can relate to, some I can't even begin to imagine.

Let's go there now.

Next Blog: Written by a 22-year-old Malaysian male. It's called Lucky Strike 14. Not sure why. Today's entry is about the New Year, the Chinese New Year and beginning the Year of Tiger. (Last year was apparently the Year of Ox.) The writer contemplates his graduation from University in a year or two and his entrance to the working world. He concludes with the thought that it's best to enjoy and live in the present. Good friends = good times. Why mess with it?

"My dream is simple. I hope no matter what path we are heading to, our friendship bond will always be there. Stay connected. If possible, invite me to your wedding Malaysian=). Friendship forever ya~!!!"

Next Blog: Brat Princess. Again, not sure why. A quick scan tells me it's about, well, a brat princess. Make-up tips, look what I bought, gold is good. Let's move on.

Next Blog: The Thornocks - a family name for a family blog. It's written by mom and this entry is about daughter Ryleigh's 3rd birthday, complete with pictures. Cute kid, cute family, cute blog. I can relate as the stay-at-home parent. I read it through and even check a few back issues.

Next Blog: Hello! Okay, this is a first. Came across some "naughty" pictures, complete with someone's description of their sexual exploits in a sort of poetic voice; and not great writing. Not particularly interested, moving on . . . in a minute, hang on. Moving . . . on . . . right . . . now . . . that's not how you spell THAT . . . poor grammar . . . and that's just not possible . . . okay, seriously, moving on.

Next Blog: A tribute to Michael Jackson by Xin Hong. Not particularly interested, moving on.

Anyway, you get the idea. Next time you're bored and want to read a little "slice of life" from a variety of perspectives, give it a try. You might be amused, you might get bored, you might find inspiration, you might find a lot of spelling errors. But odds are good you're going to learn something. And that makes the trip worthwhile.

The new phone's here, the new phone's here!

So . . . bought a new phone this week. Why? Because the battery died in the old one, that was about a year-and-a-half old.

I hate phones today. Pretty sure growing up we had the same damn pea green rotary phone for about 20 years. Until, that is, the technology began to "improve." Push button phones (a miracle), and then phones you could unplug from the wall and move to another room. And then the miracle of cordless phones.

And, as with any technology, once it gets rolling, those that make the damn things build in the obsolescence from the word go. I mean, if you make it to last, people don't buy more of them, right?

I'm sure part of the reason is where I live. But every time I go looking for a replacement for one of these damned phone batteries, I spend more in gas looking for one than I would just buying a new freakin' phone.

And if I am lucky enough to stumble upon the correct replacement, the TWO that I need cost almost as much as a new phone. Factor in the gas . . .

So, last time I bought, 5.8 GHz was the best available. It was the latest technology offering improved range, better sound quality, blah, blah, blah over the previous 2.4 GHz or whatever.

And this time, it's DECT 6.0 that's gonna rock my telephone world and keep my conversations safe from prying phone hackers. Woo fuckin' hoo. I'll sleep better tonight.

But this time at least, I found one with regular size batteries. Nickel metal hydride rechargeables in the AAA format. So, when they crap out, I should be able to find a replacement, even in Thompson, Manitoba. If not, I'm sure I can find someone to mail me some or I'll be buying them on line.

Anyhoo, that means I must now program my phone numbers into the receivers (oh, and with the DECT 6.0 technology, I only have to program one and both receivers share the phonebook. Again I say, woo fuckin' hoo).

So, that's my excitement for the last few days. And the best part of it all is that I used my credit card points for the phone. Hurray for me.

Have a nice weekend.

Enunciate!

So . . . Sontoo is at the repeating phase of his short little life. At almost-two, he latches on to a word, or phrase and rattles it off, time and time and time again, until Daddy's eyes cross and he's about to go postal.

What's more, if you don't respond each and every time to his request or statement, he'll get a little pissy about it. This is especially true if he fakes a fall.

"I tumbleweed dada, I tumbleweed dada, I tumbleweed dada, I tumbleweed dada."

Each successive declaration increases in volume and irritation factor. It's one of those days. Patience is rapidly dwindling (Sonwun, surrounded by a mountain of toys: "I'm bored.") and I've got a mess of stuff to do today.

After feeding the boys and cleaning the kitchen, I got a load of laundry in, completed my grocery list and headed for Safeway. Upon arrival and prior to exiting the van, Sonwun recited his self-styled and traditional oath of good behaviour (believing it would earn him Mario Kart time) and then proceeded to shatter said oath 30 seconds into the fresh produce aisle.

Sontoo, on the other hand, decided it was a good time to break out of his shell. He offered a chipper "Hewwo" to anyone within 15 feet and, keeping with his newfound joy of repetition, continued hewwoing until he either got a response or out of sight.

And he saved his best for the checkout. In the magazine rack was a Thomas the Train colouring book. Sontoo loves Thomas and all of his friends from the Island of Sodor. In particular, he recognizes and knows the names of Thomas, James and Percy.

And, at the checkout, he started reciting the names. He got stuck on Percy and kept repeating, at successively increasing volume, the name Percy.

Problem is, his enunciation is still a little on the weak side. And so, while I knew exactly what he was saying, the checkout girl, the three people standing in line, the next checkout girl and the people in her line, heard my 2-year-old son was repeating the word "pussy" over and over and over and at ever increasing volume levels.

And, because he's feeling quite social this day, he's actually speaking to, and looking at, the checkout girl while saying this.

I've got nothing else to add. Have a great day.

Still waiting

Still waiting.

The biopsy that was supposed to take place yesterday, did not. We're all hoping it will get done this week. But as of right now, there's no appointment scheduled and we're all just waiting for that.

(For those of you who missed yesterday's post, my mother found out she has a tumour which may or may not be cancerous.)

The waiting is difficult for me. I can't imagine what it's like for my mother. But she's decided to keep a journal and for her, like me, writing is cathartic. Getting it on paper (or in the computer) gets at least some of it out of your head and heart.

It's hard to focus on much else right now, which explains the weirdness (is that a word) of yesterday's post. I had written the turkey thing prior to finding out what was going on with my mother. And, rather than waste it, I tacked it on the end of yesterday's post. As I read it today, it did seem kind of stupid.

"My mom might have cancer, but here's what's happening with my turkey stock."

Sorry, my head's just not right.

Anyway, short post today, so as to reduce the risk of repeating yesterday's error.

Thanks to those of you crossing your fingers and offering good wishes and prayers. It is all very much appreciated.

Cross Your Fingers Please

So . . . another Monday.

Kind of a weird weekend here.

Got a call from my mom Friday evening. She's been dealing with an intestinal blockage and has undergone a number of tests, over a number of weeks to determine what exactly it is.

On Friday, she'd been told it is a tumour and it may be cancerous. She's also been told there are some "spots" on her liver that are questionable. She was obviously devastated, as was the rest of the family as the news got out.

There's a biopsy scheduled for today.

Now, with three or so family members in the medical field (one doctor, two nurses), medical reports have been faxed all over North America and they've been studied. The overwhelming sentiment is that, yes, it's possible, but it's more on the unlikely side than the likely. Either way, we'll have to wait for today's test results.

So, this past weekend has been a bit of a bust. Hard to concentrate on anything for any length of time. Played a lot of Wii Mario Kart.

I had planned to rectify a mistake I made at Christmas, but never got around to it. Maybe today. It will be a frustrating, but relatively mindless task.

At Christmas, after cooking and serving what was perhaps the most perfect and juicy bird known to Christendom, I proactively and immediately dumped the the carcass into my huge stock pot, added some stuff and let it simmer over night.

The following day, having produced what is perhaps the most delicious turkey stock known to the Turkey Stock Exchange (TSE), I freezer-bagged said stock and placed it in the freezer, along with some leftover turkey, so that I might, at a later date, create the most delectable turkey soup since the Soup Nazi.

And then I realized I had made what is perhaps one of the most boneheaded miscalculations of the Christmas season. You see, the freezer rack gaps were not close enough together to adequate contain the bags of stock. In other words, they kinda sagged between the gaps and then froze, making them a permanent part of the freezer.

Not sure how to remedy this one. I see a few options:

1. Bend the metal racks and squeeze the stock bags out.

2. Heat the stock, somehow, and then squeeze the bags out.

3. Cut off the hangy down parts of the bag, remove stock and re-bag.

I'm kinda leaning toward option 3, with a dash of option 1 where it will work without permanently damaging the racks.

Anyway, that's where I'm at this Monday morning. Will let you know how everything turns out. Here's hoping for good news all around.

Night and Day

It's amazing how different two brothers can be.

On the one hand, we have Sonwun, the extrovert. He wants friends, he wants to play, he wants to go to preschool, he wants to go to swimming class, he wants to go to his friends house. If Jack The Ripper held out his blood-soaked hand while standing over a fresh corpse, Sonwun would grab it, ask where they were going and ask if they could get ice cream on the way.

Last year I was concerned about Sonwun going to preschool, having heard stories of wailing, screaming, gnashing of teeth as daddy dropped off child and turned to leave. I was worried I wouldn't have the strength to do the right thing and keep on walking.

Turns out I didn't have anything, and I mean anything, to worry about. I said good-bye at the classroom door and he didn't even look back. Onward to new adventures, new people, new friends. See ya later, whats-yer-face.

On the other hand, we have Sontoo, the introvert. He wants mommy, daddy and Sonwun. No one else, end of story. If he loses track of me at playgroup, which is held in a small gymnasium, he starts cooking up a meltdown of biblical proportions. If I don't notice and respond within 15 seconds, he's howling like a banshee, snot is running down his face and the sobbing shakes his little body like an electric shock.

And if one of the other poor, unsuspecting, but well-meaning mothers picks him up to comfort him, he turns it up to 11.

Anyhoo, I am a little concerned with this. Wednesday, for example, he kind of took his introversion to another level (12?). At playgroup, he did not leave me for more than 5 minutes in two hours. Seriously. He just wanted to lay on my chest as I sat in a chair. He never wants to do that when there's a good hockey game on. Come to think of it, he never, ever wants to do that at home. Ever.

Now, it's possible this was in response to his decision to wake up at 5:15 a.m. and not go back to sleep. But that's only 45 minutes off his regular wake-up time. And I'm sure that if we were home he would not have been acting that way.

In addition, we can not even think of leaving him with a babysitter. He will not stand for it. Now if we lived closer to family, I think we could break him. But I just can't see leaving him with a babysitter we hardly know, in this new city, while he screams bloody murder the entire time. Just wouldn't feel right about that.

I realize preschool's a couple years off still, but we've got to adjust this attitude before we get there, if only for our own sanity. Neomom and I need to get away once in a while and it will be a lot easier if Sontoo agrees to allow a babysitter into the house while he's awake.

And on a completely different note, chipotle and meat loaf are made for each other. Chipotloaf? Delicious!

Have a great weekend.

I'm Superman

Congratulate me. I'm Superman.

The title was bestowed upon me recently by "the gweatest Superhero ever," Batman.

Batman, it seems, has replaced my eldest son. He has become the Caped Cwusader and the Dark Knight. He's quite adamant about it. He has Batman pajamas, complete with cape, Batman socks and he insists on reading Batman books at bed time. His "school shirt," which must be clean each and every preschool day, is, of course, a Batman shirt.

Until recently, Sonwun was Spiderman and the rest of the family remained mortal but, for reasons known only to the Dark Knight, he switched loyalties, personas and pajamas around Christmas.

It's a little confusing for Sontoo, who has just mastered everyone's name and was quite proud of it. I've heard him being chastised at the dinner table for saying "Hewo Sonwun."

"I'm not Sonwun, I'm Batman."

"Hewo Sonwun." (He's big into repeating stuff.)

"I'M BATMAN!"

Neomom, by the way, has been dubbed Batwoman and Sontoo has been promoted to Robin.

I'm the only one outside of the Bat family, but I think Superman is a pretty good title. I just wish Batman would stop questioning my superpowers.

"Can you lift that bus daddy?"

"Just one?"

"Can you lift that hotel daddy."

"Not sure, never tried."

"Can you lift 10 busses daddy?"

"Look, a puppy."

I picked up a few Batman videos recently for my Caped Cwusader, and he's been enjoying them. I got the cartoon ones, as I figured the live-action ones would be a little too scary just yet. But even the cartoons are a little spooky. He seems to be handling them okay, although he does want Superman by his side when he views them. Batwoman is on night shift this week and we wait until Robin has gone to bed before viewing.

The next evolution, I'm sure, will be a request for a bat utility belt and I'm not sure it's a good idea. Sonwun has always been a big fan of throwing things around the house, and tying things together (Sontoo included) so I'm a little leery about handing over a belt with a grappling hook and Batarangs.

Anyhoo, it's playgroup day today. Batwoman has a lot of homework to do, so it will just be Batman, Robin and Superman attending.

Right now, I must concentrate on being faster than a speeding bullet, leaping tall buildings in a single bound and making pancakes for breakfast.

Such is the life of a superhero.

Happy Hump Day. Celebrate as you see fit.

Stupid People Give me Gas

Well Happy Tuesday.

And Tuesday means . . . anyone? Right, preschool for Sonwun. You're learning the schedule.

Anyhoo, I will admit dropping him off makes me just a little tense. And it's not because I think he's going to have any problems or not enjoy himself. It's the temporary parking that we preschool parents must employ for drop-off and pick-up.

It's really not complicated. I would guess there are about 15 vehicle-sized spaces in the little roundabout area near the preschool door. Everyone must park on the right, as there is not sufficient room for parking on both sides. And there are about 25 students in preschool. So yeah, generally there are more cars than spaces, but it usually works out okay as parents arrive and depart at different times in the 10-minute drop-off window.

Now I should point out that stupid people give me gas, migraines, occasional sleeplessness, hammer toe, pain when standing, runny discharge, pain when sitting and a tendency toward violent thoughts. And there are a few stupid people on this planet.

I almost ran into one last week while attempting to park, but I didn't want to dent the truck. I was pulling in to the preschool roundabout and noticed there was one big space left, between two trucks, with plenty of room for two more cars; three if we packed 'em in tight. As I pulled in, there was one white car ahead of me. No problem.

The driver of this white car, however, decided that the best place to park would be right smack in the middle of the remaining space, leaving not quite enough room for one more vehicle in front of her and not quite enough room for one more vehicle behind her. We're talking dead centre.

I stopped myself just (and I mean just) short of unleashing a string of words that my four-year-old son need not be familiar with, stopped, and just stared as this large woman struggled to free herself from her vehicle, gathered her child and clomped off toward the school.

Now I realize it was partly my mood, but it just really pissed me off. And it nearly caused a stroke when she did the exact same thing at 3:15, pick-up time, after preschool. Fortunately, at that time, there were other spaces available.

My point? I don't have one. It's just what's on my mind this morning.

Have a great day!

Cabin Fever

Well, Happy Monday!

I'm afraid cabin fever is setting in. And it's only January.

But it all kinda got kicked into high gear when Neomom was away for three days last week, two of which were supposed to have been days off.

There's been snow on the ground since mid-October, it's been too cold to be outside most of the time, the boys are going a little nuts and if I have to play one more game of Candy Land, you may just find me running through the Gumdrop Pass with a rifle, on my way to the Peppermint Forest to hunt for Lord Licorice, cause he pisses me off. Miss a turn my ass. YOU miss a turn.

But, um, I digress, or something.

In an effort to stave off the insanity and excitement of laundry, shopping, dishes, cleaning, laundry, shopping, dishes, cleaning, I've read the two books I got for Christmas. One was a James Patterson novel (entertaining as always) and the other was Andre Agassi's autobiography, OPEN.

Agassi's book was interesting and very readable. And, thank goodness, it was not a whiny celebrity, blame-it-on-everyone-but-yourself kind of thing. It just came across as a description of a part of one man's journey through life. Yes, a somewhat extraordinary life, but with the same common, base problems as everyone else.

We've all got obstacles to deal with, we've all got to find the tools with which to overcome the obstacles. Some of us have bigger obstacles, some of us have better tools to deal with them.

I don't want to spoil anything for any of you who might like to read it, so I won't elaborate a great deal. Overall, good book. Very readable and very interesting to me, one who was a big tennis fan during much of Agassi's heyday.

That being said, as with any celebrity autobiography, I would now love to read the autobiographies of the folks mentioned in Agassi's book, just to see how they interpreted the same events and time frame. Just want a more complete picture.

Well, that's all I've got for today. More laundry to fold. Oh, and the Mini Pops? Those annoying prepubescent kids who are recorded singing popular songs of the day? I hate the commercials for their CDs. It just seems one step down on the white-trashometer from the child beauty pagents. One more commercial of them dancing and singing songs they can't begin to understand, and I'm gonna put my foot through the TV. That, or whoever's responsible for them will join Lord Licorice on my hit list.

Happy Monday.

Short and Sweet

Well, the day started almost perfectly. Sontoo, who is still in the early phases of communication, covered all the bases.

He calls from his crib at 6 a.m., daddyyyyyyyy, daddyyyyyyyy. I hear it through the baby monitor in the basement, where I'm enjoying my coffee and Andre Agassi's book, OPEN. I'm several chapters in and so far, it's interesting and very readable. I admired Agassi when he was in his prime, the whole rebel thing in addition to his outstanding play. But when you find out where it all came from . . . I'll let you read the book.

Anyway, I make my way upstairs before Sontoo wakes up momma. I open the door, walk in, close it.

"Hewooe Daddy!" he says, in a chipper little voice that always makes me smile.

"Hi Sontoo."

I turn on the little lamp and turn to see him on his back, smiling. He rolls over, gets to his feet and balls up the gramma blankets. He has two, and he won't go to bed without them.

He collects them in his arms, stands and waits to be picked up. I oblige and he snuggles into my shoulder as we take the short walk to the change table.

"Towmater," he says, pointing to the brown tow truck character on his Cars wallpaper.

When the change is over, he rebundles the gramma blankets and snuggles back into my shoulder for the trip downstairs. It's early, so I'm hoping we can settle in together on the couch, maybe snuggle and rest for a few minutes

"Dwink pees," he says, just as I get comfortable.

I get back up and go to fill a sippy with milk.

I return. He laughs with anticipation when he sees the cup.

"Denk oo," he says upon receipt of said cup.

For me, that's the perfect start to any day. Happy, content boy. Please and thank you. Not yet 2 years old.

It's gotta be a good day.

Shower Interrupted

So . . . yesterday I'm in the shower. It's one of my peaceful places and it has become more and more peaceful in the last couple of months.

It wasn't long ago that a 45-second shower was the max. I just wasn't comfortable leaving the boys alone for any longer than that. And they were usually in the bathroom at the time, seeing who could throw the greatest number of items into the tub in that 45 seconds.

But lately, they seem content to do whatever they're doing, downstairs, while I enjoy a solid five minutes in the shower.

And yesterday, following half an hour on the treadmill, I was confident that Max and Ruby were keeping the boys sufficiently occupied, so I headed for the shower and my five minutes of peace and solitude.

I got about three.

And then Sonwun, the elder, came charging into the bathroom crying. And it was a real cry, not a whiny attention-seeking cry.

"I hurt my little brother," he said.

Now, I've heard this line before and, when it's accompanied by this particular kind of cry, it means he's actually hurt his brother and usually on purpose. And when Sontoo starts crying it scares Sonwun, who immediately comes to confess. It's never been anything really serious, maybe a bonk in the head or a fat lip. Yes, it needs addressing, but it isn't the end of the world.

"What happened," I ask, as I turn off the water.

"I hurt my little brother and his face is all red," Sonwun replies.

Oh shit. Now that doesn't sound good.

I leap out of the shower, grab a towel and go running down the stairs, expecting a gory scene involving some manner of Fisher Price impalement. Leaving a trail of wet carpet I make my way to the top of the basement stairs, where I find Sontoo . . . smiling and laughing. Sure, you could see that he'd been crying, but he was over it now and was just finding my hastily constructed toga quite amusing.

So, following interrogation, I learned that Sonwun had smacked Sontoo in the mouth with his Spiderman utility rope and hook. It probably pissed Sontoo off to the point where he actually turned red while crying. But he wasn't bleeding anywhere and the pain was quickly forgotten.

The utility hook has been confiscated, as Sonwun had been warned umpteen times about swinging it wildly around the house, especially anywhere near his younger brother.

Anyhoo, that was my excitement for yesterday.

And, to keep with the theme of the last couple of posts, my gourmet cooking tips for the day:

1. When the bag of tatertots says cook at 450 degrees for 20 minutes, and the fish sticks need to be cooked at 400 degrees, you can do the tots at 400 degrees for half an hour and they come out perfect.

2. When you put a frying pan in the oven at 400 degrees for 14 minutes, the handle gets very hot. It will hurt a lot if you try to pick it up without oven mitts.

My culinary words of wisdom for the day.

Happy Hump Day. Celebrate as you see fit.

Chipotle Rules!

Okay, my new favourite flavour is chipotle. I added a little to the bbq sauce recipe last night on the slow-cooked baby back ribs and WOW! Love this stuff.

At dinner last night, Sonwun flatly rejected the ribs and cried when I made him try just a bite. Sontoo, who usually loves his ribs, rejected them as well. Neomom loved them.

So I guess that's pretty much par for the course in my culinary exploration game.

Chipotle peppers, as I've learned, are actually just smoked jalapeno peppers, which accounts for the little kick (or big kick, depending on variety and concentration).

Anyway, the flavour was a welcome addition to my quickie barbecue sauce last night. I actually make two types of sauce - the quickie and the batch.

The quickie is ketchup based. I don't really measure anything, just kind of throw it together in a cereal bowl, starting with maybe a cup and a half of ketchup. I'd guess two tablespoons of brown sugar and an equal or slightly greater amount of white vinegar. That's the base and from there it's just a matter of adding flavour depending upon my mood and availability.

Generally speaking, I add garlic powder, chilli powder, maybe some Dijon mustard, curry powder, salt, pepper and a dash or two of Worcestershire sauce. Last night I left out the chilli and Dijon and added a couple of shots of chipotle based bbq sauce. And it was awesome.

Must look into locating some straight chipotle powder, or paste for the future, as it would better suit the batch recipe. That one I only make once or twice a year, depending on time and storage space.

For the batch, I used my 5-gallon Dutch oven.

I start with a cup of well chopped onion and half a cup of chopped garlic, which I fry for a few minutes in hot oil in the Dutch oven. Once those two ingredients have softened, I start adding the rest of the stuff:

4 cups tomato puree

1 cup brown sugar

1 cup Worcestershire sauce

3/4 cup honey

3/4 cup ketchup

1/2 cup creamy horseradish sauce

1/2 cup tomato paste

1/2 cup balsamic vinegar

1/2 cup Dijon mustard

1/4 cup dark molasses

1/4 cup dried onion

1/4 cup garlic powder

1/4 cup chilli powder

1/4 cup curry powder

Juice from one or two limes, depending on size.

2 cups water

(Chipotle amount to be named later)

Anyway, I bring this to a boil and then turn the heat down to let it simmer for about half an hour. Then I let it cool, put it in Tupperware containers, freeze most of it and keep some out for immediate use.

Now, I need to point out that this recipe is a lifelong work in progress. I don't consider it perfect, just yet. It's good, but it still needs some polish. I think the chipotle is going to go a long way toward my goal. Try it if you like, play with it, add or subtract whatever floats your boat.

As for right now, it's almost breakfast. For Sonwun, I think we'll try cinnamon toast waffles with chipotle syrup. And for Sontoo, apple-cinnamon oatmeal, with chipotle yogurt.

Happy Tuesday!

Experiment #1

Found my cookbook! And now I remember why I put it away last time.

Ingredients. Access to them. Don't have.

Maybe I'm approaching this from the wrong end. Maybe I need to write a cookbook using only ingredients available in places like Thompson or Gimli Manitoba. Brandy-soaked Chicken, Ground Beef in Red Wine, Sherry and a Loaf of Bread. Eh, maybe not.

Yeah, I'm making it sound worse than it actually is, but fresh vanilla beans are a little hard to come by up here, as is celeriac, fresh sea scallops, lemon grass, crayfish, kaffir lime leaves and guinea fowl.

Maybe I've just got the wrong cookbook.

So yesterday, with food supplies dwindling, I decided to make Mac and Cheese, from scratch (didn't have any of the boxed stuff) for the boys for lunch. Which reminded me of the second reason I put away the cookbooks.

Anyway, I hit my favourite internet recipe sites, just to find out the basics. That's generally how I cook. I look up three or four recipes for whatever it is I have to cook, to find out cooking times, basic common ingredients and basic common ratios. And then I make it my own.

Yesterday, for example, I looked up a few mac and cheese recipes and learned that I needed about 8 oz of cheese, two tablespoons of butter and half a cup of cream for the basic mix.

I boiled up the mac and then added about six ounces of marble cheddar, four ounces of smoked peppercorn gouda, half a cup of cream (18%), the butter and some blue cheese salad dressing. Sounds pretty good, eh?

Well, Sonwun took one look at it and said he didn't like it, even with the ketchup on it. He loves ketchup.

Sontoo, on the other hand, dug right in.

It wasn't bad, but I'll admit it wasn't great. It was a tad bland. I mean once you've had the chemically enhanced cheese flavour of Kraft Dinner, there's no going back, is there? And using whole wheat macaroni elbows, as I did, only makes it a little healthier and, again, less tasty than the KD.

I found that by adding chili sauce, the whole thing really came together. I liked it. Sonwun did not. Sontoo ate about half of his portion. To me, that is success.

Anyway, today I hope to pick up a cast iron skillet. I have a few filets of beef in the freezer and the barbecue is a big old ice block right now, and will be for the next five months or so. My internet recipe search has indicated that the best way to cook these bad boys indoors is with cast iron; first on the stove and then to the oven. Must also pick up some bacon for wrapping. YUM!

Anyhoo, that's where I'm at. Have yourselves a great Monday and enjoy the Canada-U.S. Junior Gold Medal Game Tuesday. Should be a great one!

2010

So, January 2, 2010. The year begins today for me as Neomom's back to work and the boys and I must figure out ways to make these four walls interesting.

It's -29 outside this morning, with a windchill of -37. So we won't be going tobogganing.

The Christmas decorations are all gone, the new calendar's on the wall. Time to dig into the new year.

Yesterday, I watched a marathon on the Food Network. It was called something like The Next Food Network Star. I like marathons. You don't have to wait a week for the next episode . . . it's all solved in a day.

Anyway, I was inspired, as often happens when watching the Food Network. I found myself wanting to buy new and wonderful ingredients and try new and wonderful cooking techniques. I wanted to pull out my Jamie Oliver cookbooks and pick a couple of weird items and cook 'em up. I want to know what celeriac tastes like. I want to create a perfect risotto, from scratch. The possibilities were swimming around in my head. I LOVE to cook!

But yesterday at supper, I was reminded why my love of all things food had been severely curtailed.

I'd pulled out a pound of ground beef in the morning and had planned a simple taco salad for supper: taco meat, cheese, lettuce, Catalina dressing and salsa all mixed up and served over corn chips. Yum! (If I was alone, chopped tomato, onion and olives would have been added to the mix, but the boys hate tomato and onion and Neomom is not a fan of olives.)

Sonwun took one look at my creation and proclaimed it "yucky." He didn't even try it. He likes taco meat. He likes lettuce. He likes cheese and he loves Catalina dressing. But put 'em all together: "Yucky!"

Sontoo didn't exactly cheer either. Both boys left the table hungry.

My new year's inspiration took a hit. But not a fatal one.

I still plan to step up my culinary training and serve whatever's produced to my young charges. They must learn to try new things. Every night can't be chicken fingers with plum sauce— the only thing that's a guaranteed hit for both of them.

But let's be clear. This is not a resolution. I don't do those. This is just something I want to do. Okay?

Sooo . . . the next step is locating my Jamie Oliver cookbooks. I thought they were in the kitchen in the cookbook cupboard, but I just discovered I am wrong. I've got a few other cookbooks, but the recipes are kinda over the top and I'm not ready for that just yet. Baby steps.

Anyhoo, that's the news for now. Oh, one other thing. We finally combined all of our Sears gift cards from the last few years and picked up a new clothes dryer, to match the washer we got a few months back. Nice not to have to go through three drying cycles to get one load done.

Welcome to 2010 folks. Hope it's a great one for all of us. I wish you good health, good friends and some level of sanity you can live with.