The Toxic Housewife

olive and cream cheese penguins (with a cheese ball igloo, of course) OK, if you thought I was bad, may I just point out that I've never had any desire to make the above concoction for a party.  Can you imagine how long I would be in the kitchen, obsessively cutting olives in half and stuffing them with cream cheese, in order to have enough penguins for 50 people to have a bite?  No thank you! But, in case you want the recipe, I found one here .

"Pooping" reindeer: more classy crap I'm SO THANKFUL friends gave Mr. C OK, I'll admit it: I was a little disgusted this year when my local "lite music" radio station started their annual "holiday songs 24/7" tradition . . . on November 1.  I mean, I like Christmas music just as much as the next guy (assuming the next guy isn't "Bah Humbug" Bee), but this seemed like a little bit of an overkill to me.

Last week was my birthday. Thank you. Here is how I celebrated:

Sometimes I just don’t know what Hollywood is thinking. The other day we borrowed “Two Brothers” from the library. It as directed by the same guy who did “The Bear”, using live tigers and creating a storyline for them to act out. I’m assuming it is supposed to be a kid’s movie, as evidenced by the fact that the two adorable baby tigers pictured on the front cover amidst an unnaturally green jungle were not being shot at by a heroic-looking male while a scantily-clad woman knelt at his feet.

I once had someone tell me I had a "wide aura".  Apparently, this means I'll often feel what others are feeling and am influenced by their moods.  Unfortunately, I don't know just how "wide" my aura is, which makes blaming my bitchiness on someone in the next state a little challenging.

Ohh, yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah: I’m an over-achieving braggart. Got a problem with that? Oh.  Well, then, you'd better not read this blog.

I'm not sure what exactly my problem is, but I've suddenly found  myself to be awfully emotional the last few days.  And I'm not even pregnant.

OK, so my whole 2-posts-a-week goal has not been working out.  But can you blame me?  I've had things to obsess over and -- once the obsessing was over for the day -- I had crappy movies to watch.

Strawberry-Rhubarbara Tarts 1)  I was making a Strawberry-Rhubarbara ("When Plain Strawberry-Rhubarb Just Won't Do!") Pie this week, and had leftovers.  So I decided to freeze little mini-pies in these muffin tins to bake later.

French Bread Today I felt like cooking.  This usually means I'll find an excuse to make cookies or brownies or something.  But I'm trying hard to be healthier this week . . . which totally explains why I made two loaves of carb-tastic, enriched-white-flour bread instead.

this week's cookie selection Yesterday we hosted a kids' Halloween party.  It was a simple affair, requiring me to only spend about 3 full days preparing for it.

And for our last installment for White Trash Cooking Month, I would like to offer up TWO recipes.  The first, pictured above, is for a crustless quiche I heard about while doing the South Beach Diet.  It is completely healthy (so doesn't belong in this post) but also very easy (so I figured I'd include it).

OK, I didn't make these; but aren't they adorable? These were at the Halloween party Mr. C and I crashed today.

Mr. C and I just returned from our trip to my parents' house.  It's a 6 hour drive, which sucks, though it could be a lot worse: I actually quite enjoy the drive in the fall.  Look at all these pretty colors!

OK, I will admit right now that none of the pictures in this post are mine.  I totally stole them from the internet because I was much too lazy to actually make the meal I'm going to tell you about.  That's because Mr. C and I are currently at my parents', shoving sugar in our mouths, and I just don't have time to whip up dinner for someone else.

a light breakfast (pancakes with fruit, whipped cream, walnuts and honey; bacon) We are in trouble. My body must be hyper-sensitive to being cold, and therefore feels the need to guard against the chill with extra layers of fat.  Naturally, this means that – as soon as the weather turns cold – I start eating.  And I don’t mean just eating: I mean eating .

unlike most of my cooking, this dish actually tastes better than it looks And now, for the Trashiest recipe in my arsenal: three nearly open-and-dump ingredients, cooked in a microwave, ready in less than 5 minutes, and with only 1 dish to clean.  Basically a tortilla-less burrito, may I present the only recipe I've ever invented: Toxic Housewife Chicken.

the best dog in the world Mr. C wants a dog.  I do not.  This is an odd thing for me, because I used to consider myself a dog person.  I had a fantastic dog growing up, and I always assumed I'd get a dog for my own as soon as I graduated from college.  Instead I got ferrets.

(note: Bee added a red pepper to the above-pictured dish.  He thought he was being all 'gourmet-y'.  DON'T GIVE IN TO THE PRESSURE!!!) I have decided to proclaim October to be "White Trash Cooking Month!"  As such, I will be sharing some of my favorite, easy, make-'em-in-your-double-wide recipes once a week until the end of the month.  I hope you enjoy learning a little about how I ate before Bee mercifully took over the cooking.

 How I spent my week: 1)  Canning peaches

when I need to relax, I pick raspberries I have spent the last few weeks furiously picking raspberries at the farm.  There is a TON.  This is great.  Well, except for one thing:

Our basement: as dark as our mood How can I describe these last few weeks?  Bee's had so much stress over the Market.  I'm talking stomach-cramps, can't-sleep-without-Ambien stress.  Since I am (occasionally) a Good Wife, I feel what he feels, so it's been no picnic for me, either. It's been hell, and then it got worse, and then -- just when we thought we couldn't handle anything else -- it got even worse .  As if the universe was chanting, "Ha HA!  F*ck you guys!!"

Rest In Peace, Your Highness A few days ago I committed my first act of pre-meditated murder. Yeah; I killed a queen.  I'm so badass.

Heaven forbid  any of our home-improvement projects be easy.

I never thought I'd have reason to say this, but I rented a commercial kitchen today.

Tonight was Kay's baby shower.  I offered to make the cake.  Ready? . . .

In the interest of reducing the agony, I will now attempt to shorten several Legs of The Toxic Tour to create one combined post. Which, unfortunately, only makes this a ridiculously long entry.  So get comfortable!

So, you may be asking, what have I been doing since 9 o'clock tonight? Well . . .

A few years ago, we stopped using the dishwasher.  A model that is probably close to 20 years old, the ineffective piece of crap is noisy, loooong, and still requires us to pretty much wash the dishes before we put them in the dishwasher. 

Awesome Former College Roommate, after driving an hour to Williamsburg to pick us up, drove us all the hour back to her house.  Upon getting to tour her enchanting home for the first time, I began to get a little worried: our vacation had now yielded three homes in a row that I really liked. So I figured Bee was slipping me some sort of 'sunshine and roses' pill since -- as you know -- I'm kind of a bitch and am not used to appreciating others' work.  My lifelong motto: Beauty Not Created By Me Must Be Ridiculed.

I once caught a fish . . . In our neck of the city, there are folk who sell salmon by the side of the road every summer.  You never know where they're going to be: a vacant parking lot; a grassy right-of way; in front of an abandoned building.  Keeping a look-out for them is half the fun; like a treasure hunt!  A fishy, slimy treasure hunt.

When Good Guests Go Bad I really enjoyed Leg 3 of The Toxic Tour, despite the fact that it only lasted 24 hours. I had suckered Selfless Former College Roommate into driving an hour from her house to pick up my squalling family from my sister's, then drive us all the hour back to her house.  Selfless Former College Roommate then had to clean her house, change sheets on multiple beds, and move shit out of the way in two bedrooms so that we could stay at her place for about 12 hours.  And, while I felt bad about all that work for so little time spent in-house, Selfless Former College Roommate graciously waved aside my guilt, claiming to be happy to see me for any amount of time at all. Her three cats, for their part, were equally gracious: politely confining their terrorized shaking to the dark recesses of the dining room hutch for the entirety of our visit.

OK, I know I'm supposed to be updating The Toxic Tour, but I just had to share this with you . . .

Mixed Berry Jam I just don't know how those pioneering folks did it: living off the land is hard work .  I spent last night and part of today harvesting some of the vegetables at the farm and then preparing them for either canning or freezing.  God, I miss Walmart.

Guess what I did today? OK, well -- yes -- first I worked my Sunday market and made all of $100, but THEN I rented the bee club's extractor, brought it home, and Bee and I got to gettin' us some honey!

I Feel Pretty OK, so the constant stream of blurred-faced people in my blog photos is kind of freaking even me out . . . but that's the only way I can figure out how to protect the anonymity of the folks pictured within.  And, obviously, said folks need their anonymity protected, since I tend to post only incriminating photos.  Case in point: Mr. C prancing around his cousin Kay's house in one of her princess dresses. He's like the daughter I never had.  I'm so proud!

You see that?  That right there? You may see it as a disgusting-looking glob of meat, cheese and vegetables . . .

(oooh; scary!) We just got back from an 11-day tour of the East Coast.  You want to know aaaaalllllllllll about it, don't you?  Because it involved three days of planes, 5 different sleeping spots, and concluded with a four-day camp-out amongst 40 close friends I'd never met before. I'd give you the short version . . . but -- let's face it -- I'm too self-involved to even consider  that you wouldn't want to spend the next several weeks catching up on every single detail of my life.   As such, for your reading pleasure, may I present the first post in a multi-post series regarding our trip back east? Our first destination was to be central Virginia, where my sister lives.  However, I won't even consider that part of the trip to be the First Leg; oh no!  When one is traveling with a small child, just riding the airplane is a major trip in itself; so our full-day journey from the West Coast to the East Coast shall be Leg One.

1)  Why did you put your chicken in the cooler?

Firework Cookies Happy 4th of July!

before . . . OK, so we’ve begun to harvest a lot from the farm.  This ought to be an exciting time for me: seeing the fruits of my labor and all that.  Naturally, I choose to be irritated about it all instead.

my heart hurts It is a tragic time for the Toxic Household: I have recently learned that Mr. C and I are being dumped.

Please, enough already!  Your stony silence only serves to prove to me that you're hurting for an update on the Toxic Household.  So here it is:

I figured that, since I don't feel like working, you may not feel like working, either.  With that in mind, I bring you the following most-excellent time wasters:

You may recall a snide comment here or there in some of my previous posts about the fear that I will never, ever, for the next 18 years, get the chance to have the house to myself again.  Well . . .

7 days of baking + 12 desserts made + 3 days of housecleaning + 8 hours of table set up = 1 Major Bitch.

Here's a shot of the three (count them) three strawberries that managed to survive . . . well . . . ME being their gardener. It wasn't the easiest of tasks to get those plants there, I'll have you know.  I mean, I actually had to DIG them up from the patch at the farm, DRIVE them home, DRILL sloppy holes all over the side of an old black plant bucket (OK, that part actually was a little tough), FILL that bucket with dirt and compost, and then PLACE all the strawberry starts in the various holes of the bucket.  Then I had to FORGET about watering the strawberries, then wonder WHY most of the plants died and all I got were these three strawberries. But don't get me wrong: I'm actually thrilled to death that I , The Toxic Housewife, Herself , managed to grow three whole strawberries ! And then the birds ate them.

Mr. C has discovered my iPod, which means that now -- in his opinion -- my iPod is HIS iPod.

Oh, right:  that's why. There's nothing like spending four hours arguing with people who want to buy your old pig-shaped resin candleholder for 10 cents instead of 25.

Remember my last post?  The one about our car troubles?  The one that snidely predicted the car wouldn't start last Friday? Well . . .

(This photo really has nothing to do with this post, except that, with this outfit and his adorable face,  I kind of think Bee looks like the title character). (And, yes, he wore that outfit out of the house) My poor little Mazda has started giving us troubles.  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, since it's 10 years old. That's practically ancient in today's technologically-minded world.

Aren't they beautiful? I totally feel like a new parent, as I've taken about 46 pictures of my babies in the last week.  Don't worry: I'll only subject you to a few of them . . .

Grand Prize! I am so happy to announce the winner of the First Ever Toxic Housewife Contest!!   I received a lot of fantastic and creative business-name suggestions via e-mail and Comments after posts; thanks to those of you who took the time to think up such great names!  From those suggestions, I narrowed the list down to my top 9 favorites, then asked Bee and S.B. to narrow it further.  We decided on the top five, and opened it to voting.  And, thanks to all of you who voted, the results are as follows:

(photo by Mr. C) No, that's not a photo of me cooking . . . it's a picture of me installing our new bees!

Inside those boxes are the contents of my latest project (well, one of my latest projects). Care to take a peek?

The Cookie Momster As you can see, it's much more important for me to spend the day creating pictures worthy of a three-year-old instead of doing something trivial . . . such as paying attention to a three-year-old.  (Hey, he was perfectly content to sit quietly in the corner with his box of matches!)