Hunk of Meat Monday

Oh wait. Wrong kind of hunk. Though if he makes your Monday a little brighter, I won't judge.

What I meant to share was an entry for a blog hop called Hunk of Meat Mondays. It's hosted by a fellow Indiana blogger. (I just saw on her site that they have a beagle. They live on a farm. Maybe they'd want a barnyard beagle-basset dog, too? But that's another post...)

Anyway, she (wish I could remember her first name. I've met her IRL once, but her name escapes me. It's probably something easy, like Amy) posted a yummy recipe for tetrazzini today. Well, mostly she posted it. All the ingredients and quantities, etc. But she didn't exactly spell out all the steps. She must be a good cook, because good cooks can get away with stuff like. BadLess experienced cooks like myself need step by step instruction.

Being  a badless experienced cook myself, I can't really contribute much to her Hunk of Meat Mondays. But, I do have a hunk of meat that I have no idea what to do with. This is it:

Three pounds of boneless beef ribs

I have no idea what I was doing buying fancy meat like that. Most of the meat that makes its way into this house is deli sliced, ground or flash-frozen. Apparently, I was feeling culinarily adventurous -- or maybe I was lulled into purchasing it by a big "Save $3 NOW" sticker on the package. 

However it got into the house, it's here and I have to use it.

I tried looking up a few recipes, but they included things like "liquid smoke" and I got scared off. Mike says I should just drop 'em in a crockpot, dump some barbecue sauce over it and eat whatever comes out. I'm not so sure. 

So, I hope this is not a violation of Hunk of Meat Monday, but I thought I'd ask if anyone out there has a tested and approved for use by a cook with good intentions but a bad track record. 

Let's hear it. 

I don't want to talk about 9-11

Today is the 10th anniversary of the 9-11 attacks of America. I'd rather not talk about it.

I'll talk about the Space Shuttle disasters. I'll talk about the wrath of Hurricane Katrina on New Orleans. I'll talk about last spring's tornadoes that killed so many. They were all unexpected and sad events, as was 9-11.

But none of them made me feel vulnerable like the attacks on America. I like to be in control. I like to at least feel like I have some control, even if it's really just an illusion. September 11, 2001 spun my world -- our world -- out of control. And that's why I don't want to talk about it. 

However, we don't live in a bubble. 9-11 is part of the history of our country and, whether I like it or not, part of my own life history.

The timeline of events as they happened at our house is a little hazy. I think the first tower had been struck and it seemed like a freak accident, so Mike took Annie to preschool.

I remember calling him on the cell phone when the second tower was struck. Instead of going on to the office, he came home and we spent the morning watching the television in disbelief.

After a few hours, once it was clear that America was under attack, I went to pick up Annie. I was worried that something might happen in our city and I might be unable to reach her. I could barely breathe at the thought.

In the late afternoon, I talked to my mom on the phone. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she heard and felt an explosion in their city. There is a large Air Force base there and we were fearful that the attacks were continuing, even though air traffic had been frozen by then. We later found out the "explosions" were the sonic booms of fighter jets taking off from the Air Force base.

I went to Mass that night. It was very crowded for a Tuesday night. People stood and called out intentions for prayer, something that is out of the norm during Mass. My fears did not go away at church, but I did feel some comfort in being there.

That night, I insisted that Annie and Charlie sleep with us. Mike thought I was being silly and overly dramatic. I didn't care. I wanted them close to me. They were oblivious to the events of the day, so the family bed for the night wasn't for their benefit, but for mine.

In the days ahead, I would watch countless hours of coverage on the news. I would become fixated on the fact that very few body bags were needed at the World Trade Center site. I would remember stories of those who died and those were left behind. The man from New Jersey who died because he stayed with someone who couldn't get out of one of towers; his wife said she knew he was "working his rosary beads."  Lisa Beamer, the pregnant wife of Flight 93 hero Todd Beamer. The man whose life was saved because he chose to take his child to kindergarten that day, which delayed his arrival at the Twin Towers.

I remember it. I just don't want to talk about it.

Sticks and stones

Sticks and stones may break my bones,

but drinking my last Diet Coke really ticks me off.

10 steps to becoming a hoarder

1. Early in your married life, take organizational tips from your mother-in-law (RIP), such as "pile stuff in laundry baskets to deal with it later."
2. Start a scrapbooking habit, take zillions of pictures, then fall desperately behind in scrapbooking for, say, 7 years. Put all the unscrapped photos into laundry baskets. Pile scrapbooking tools into a corner nearby.
3. Move on to stamping and create a smaller, though similar collection of rubber stamps, inks, paper.
4. Inspect bags your husband is hauling up from the toy room to take to Goodwill. Remove 40% of what he attempted to giveaway. You're saving the toys for the grandchildren (who might be born in 15 years or so).
5. Don't have the heart to decline anything offered to you by your husband's 92-year-old grandmother, even if you really don't need a battery-operated talking parrot, 3 Clinique giveaway bags or a yellowed U.S. map mounted on plywood. You don't want to hurt the woman's feelings. 
6. Marry a man who cannot part with anything that has to do with Star Trek or Star Wars.
7. Ask your children "do you want this?" before you throw anything away. 
8. Be sentimental enough to want to keep a newborn-size diaper (unused, of course), the hospital wristband your daughter wore when she had her tonsils removed, and the first letter your son wrote to Santa, plus about 17,000 other small pieces of their childhoods.
9. Maintain enough optimism to truly believe that you will fit into those clothes or they will come back into style someday.
10. When you finally decide to get rid of stuff, waffle back and forth between giving it away, throwing it away, saving it for someone else you know who might want it, or trying to sell it on Ebay. Put stuff in laundry baskets until you can make up your mind.

Because social media is not only about me

When I sit down to write a blog post, it's generally about me. I suppose that makes sense because this is my life, my story to tell.

When I update my status on Facebook, it's usually about me -- something I did or don't want to do or how something made me felt.

I love social media, but I'm becoming increasingly aware of the challenge to remember that it's not all about me, myself and I.

I've received that reminder in sadly abundant ways lately:

• A 36-year-old friend and mother of 8 was recently diagnosed with breast cancer
• A 34-year-old neighbor received the same diagnosis earlier this summer and I didn't even know it
• A friend from college has a tumor on her brain stem
• A fellow blogger was told today that she has cancer. Again.

I could sit here and feel guilty that my blog contains tales of spendy skirts, impossible kitchen standards and faltering willpower while others are facing issues that really are life and death.

Or I can be grateful for the social media that exists so that I might share in these people's stories and lift my heart in prayer for the sake of their peace, comfort and healing.

So today, this blog post is not about me. It's about us -- you and I together -- and how we can turn this self-centered technology inside out . Instead of sending out messages of "me, me, me," we can allow these bytes and bandwith to open our hearts to those who are suffering today, to those whose day might be made just a little better by a quick message that says "I'm thinking of you."

It's a reminder I need to hear from time to time. So, how can I pray for you today?

Rules of the Fridge

Attention 4th Frog Family Members:

You may have noticed there is a new refrigerator in the kitchen. You can tell it's new because it's clean. Really clean. Straight from the factory and passed over with soapy water clean.

Much like the rules that are declared, though not always successfully followed, when a new car is in the driveway, there are some rules that you should take note of for this new fridge.

1. There are 3 doors on this fridge, as opposed to 2 on the old one. Unless you are actively selecting something to eat or drink, these doors must remain closed. All the way.
2. Condiments belong in those handy shelves in the doors. Not haphazardly shoved in the first spot your eyes land on.
3. There will be no sticky, drippy bottles of ketchup, jelly, salad dressing or anything else allowed in the fridge. If it's sticky or drippy, wipe it off -- with a wet paper towel, not on your shirt.
4. Almost as bad as sticky bottles of ketchup and jelly are empty ones. If it's empty, throw it away. The same goes for milk. If there's not enough for at least a small bowl of cereal, drink the rest and throw the jug away.
5. Speaking of milk, there will be no drinking straight from the gallon. (I realize this is not exactly a refrigerator rule, but thought I would take the opportunity to sneak in the reminder.)
6. All leftovers will be covered. No one wants to open the refrigerator and see your pizza sitting on a plate out in the open. God invented foil and Saran wrap for a reason.
7. If you spill it, clean it up. 
8. Those orange and red and green things that are in the bottom drawers? They're called vegetables. Eat some from time to time. (Again, not a fridge rule, but related enough.)
9. This fridge has an ice maker and water dispenser in the door. Yes, the control panel with it's glowing blue lights looks something like you might have seen in a Star Trek movie. No, you may not push the buttons just to hear the sounds. (Mike, I'm talking to you here.)
10. It is my hope that this refrigerator will be a beacon of health. It will not be tainted by slice and bake cookie dough, tubs of cake frosting, real mayonnaise, bacon, full-fat cheese or premium ice cream. That's what the garage refrigerator is for. 

Down with mediocrity

Last night I posted an entry titled "Would you go back to high school?" It detailed our Meet the Teacher night at Annie's school. But you can't read it now.

For only the second time in three years, I deleted a post. There wasn't anything untruthful in the post. I deleted it because I wasn't proud of the work. When I sat down to write it, I really wanted to convey how much I love this school. I wanted you to feel how energizing it is for your kid to have teachers who are passionate and engaged.

There is something special about this school, but there was nothing special about the post. While truthful, it was just not good. In fact, it kind of sucked. And I wanted to do so much better by the school (even though I didn't name it).

I rushed it because of some self-imposed deadline to post something. (See Wednesday's post for another mediocre example.) But it didn't do justice to the great things going on at the school and it was a of waste the time you might have spent reading it.

So it's gone. There will be another post in its place. One that will not be a waste of space or time. Thanks for reading. I hope you'll stick around.