Bar Hopping with the Iphone

Today’s post is brought to you by  the one and only Noni. That’s right, Big Jude, my mom is the guest blogger today. She didn’t intend it, but when she sent me the following email, I knew it was perfect fodder for The Goon Room. So grab a drink and toast the 55+ crowd and their salute to the Iphone. Her quote about what kind of Iphone she has is my favorite – enjoy and thanks Nonester!

Yesterday I found the perfect place for a bar—next to the Apple store at Biltmore Mall.
 
Went to the Apple Store to have my Iphone checked out—you make the appointment on line (of Course) once you figure out how to move the page far enough down to let you see everything because of course you use the larger print on the computer than the under 30’s.  Then you book the appointment at the genius bar and you become hopeful—like maybe the Iphone can be fixed and no longer run down to dead battery every 4 hours, maybe it will finally connect to WIFI and that damn Siri will quit asking how she can help and when you tell her she just says—I’m busy now.
 
So off I go —a little early cause afterall they’re doing me this great service and I arrive –the store is a large loud box—all hard surfaces so everything is alive and moving—the tables are lined with goodies—Iphones, Ipads, computers, TV’s and there are no signs because cyber people know where to go because Siri told them….me unfortunately had that deer in the headlite look in my eye and I clutched my Iphone hoping somehow it would communicate with the mother ship and let her know I had arrived!
 
Everyone in the store that is a customer is an average age of 55+ (I’m being nice) and everyone working there is 19+ (again kindness).  I wanted to fit in so I thought I would look at an extra plug for my Iphone—make nice kinda—a perky young thing pounced on me and offered help—What kind of Iphone do you have—well I was ready–“White”!  She saw the little darling under my arm and snatched it up and announced —Just an Iphone!  Ok, I’m learning…..then she asks if I would like to check myself out—frankly I just got here and was hoping to check myself in—so I decline and she says ok—do you want me to email your receipt or do you want a paper receipt—well I figured she didn’t know my email so I say paper—only to find out they don’t have paper—so I said skip the receipt—I’m really here for trouble shooting.
 
Three very nice young people checked their tiny little wireless computers and saw I was indeed a “scheduled guest” for the genius bar!!  One of them drew the short straw and suggested I “take a load off”—now seriously at my age and backside don’t ever use the  word “load” in the same sentence with my name…..so I continued to stare into the vast array of things flashing, happening, and doing.  Finally a nice young man who only spoke Japanese appeared and announced he was there to help.  He asked me several questions with that thick Japanese broken English to which I politely replied “What???” and then he suggested a Reset was in store—so I handed over the Iphone and he proceeded to wipe it out as I watched and asked me to hold it for 5 minutes—I think this is similar to how the doctors let you visit with the sick family member before they pull the plug.  He pulled the plug and handed it back and said—if that didn’t fix it reschedule another appointment—so I walked out shell shocked realizing I had just lost all the phone numbers, my email, and my 3 new audio books and as I drove home in the quiet I realized a martini bar next to that store would have a steady flow of people (55+) all day long!!!  Anyone up for investing?

The DD

I have a theory about being pregnant and those around me drinking. My theory is this: I obviously can’t drink, so why wouldn’t I be the designated driver? And why wouldn’t I be the DD for as many friends as possible? Really, just because I can’t enjoy many many many glasses of wine, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t and have someone to drive you home safely and mostly for free.

I say mostly not because I would charge people for my taxi services – I learned my lesson charging for driving servicse one night in college. My parent’s asked me if I would drive them and their friends to and from dinner. I agreed, but for a price. And because my mother is far more devious than I am,  they made me wear a chauffeur hat, all sat in the back seats and instructed me to “not turn around”. Major backfire.

I wouldn’t volunteer to drive and then collect actual dollar bills…I say mostly because I do expect reciprocity. And I do keep track. If I drive a group of friends to dinner as the DD, in about 5-6 months, I will be calling them to go to dinner and I will expect them to drive, no questions asked.

PW gets the worst of it. And this time around he’s much more aware of his tab. With Baylor, my sobriety lasted a little longer than the standard gestation of a baby for breast feeding, severe sleep deprivation and because it took awhile to get back into my skinny jeans and my drinking shoes (who’s a lightweight? me!). Therefore his tenure as non negotiable designated driver lasted close to a year. Which is why this time, he is keeping a much closer eye on his tally.

Things One Should Never Say to a Pregnant Lady (and my responses)

“OH! Don’t you LOVE being pregnant??”

~While the end result is worth it, no, pregnancy is not top on my list of awesome things to do. Weeks of feeling like everything, including my hairstyle, is going to make me throw up – no wine – uncomfortable belly – yeah, it’s a real thrill ride.

“Get lots of sleep while you can!”

~First of all, shut up. Second, I’m what you call a belly sleeper and do you know what you can’t do when you’re pregnant? That’s right, sleep on your stomach. I spend all night thinking about how I could totally be asleep if I could just get a few minutes on my anterior.

“You look so tiny? Are you sure the baby is ok?” This is an actual question someone asked me with Baylor

~What in the world would make you feel that that was an appropriate question to ask?? Your head looks a little deformed, is everything ok with your brain?

“You don’t really look pregnant, you just look like you have a belly.”

~This is a quote from my mother. When I responded with “is that some kind of complement?? Gee, you don’t look pregnant, just fat!!” she fell apart laughing realizing how horrible it sounded and then admitted, yes, that was what she meant. Thank goodness I share her sick sense of humor.

Sum Sum Summertime

Like most Phoenicians do, I dread summer time in Arizona all winter long. I hate the thought of the air conditioner running non stop only cooling the house to 81 degrees and yet getting a $400 electricity bill. I loath having to cool the car down after leaving the grocery store to avoid giving Bay and myself third degree seat belt burns. I despise watching my lovely garden wither and die despite numerous shade devices, water and love.

But last weekend, it hit me…I kind of do love summer. Yes the heat is horrible, especially in August and September when you know the cool weather is so close, but there are some great parts about summer around here:

~the smell of Water Babies sunscreen and chlorine

~tan skin and swimming

~blueberries, strawberries, watermelon and summer salads

~getting into the great restaurants because everyone else has skipped town

~summer vacation: Montana! San Diego! Flagstaff!

~Arnold Palmers

~this summer I’ll have to do without delicious margaritas, but a girl can dream

~Baylor’s birthday, my birthday (hello 3-0!) and our anniversary (what’s the 7th anniversary gift? sunscreen?)

~4th of July fireworks, patriotic music and bbq

~baseball

~coming up with ridiculous ways to enjoy being outside sans pool – like rigging a hose to the top of the slide and putting a wading pool at the bottom under an umbrella and a mister

Sure all these things exist year round, but there’s something so right about enjoying them in 110 degrees that makes them even better than any other time of year. Maybe it’s the heat that has warped my brain, but at least I am enjoying the results.

Interesting Enchiladas

I think *no jinx* I might be through the morning sickness business. I say this because over the last week I’ve stopped being totally repulsed by food and even, dare I say, started to get hungry for things besides turkey sandwiches on Hawaiian rolls. That said, I got a huge hankering for sweet potatoes…and black beans. A quick trip to my Pinterest “YUM” page and I found a recipe for sweet potato and black bean enchiladas. I added the ingredients to my grocery list and headed out the door.

While I was mixing, I started getting second thoughts. Who they hell thought sweet potatoes belonged in enchiladas?? But I was already knee deep in the recipe and thought we could have quesadillas if it turned out as wrong as it sounded.

To my, and PW’s surprise, they were DELICIOUS! I put my own spin on the recipe by adding some frozen corn – a yummy addition if I do say so myself. I love how easy this is since most of the ingredients will last for a few weeks in the fridge and pantry making it a “go to” meal since it won’t require a trip to the store for fresh stuff. Also, I think it would freeze nicely AND would be a  nice gift recipe – you know, when someone has a baby, is sick or just needs some home cooked food!

Ingredients:

Small corn tortillas at room temperature (so they break less)

1 large sweet potato

1 can of black beans – I like Bush’s

1 small jar of salsa – I used Newman’s Own

1 can of red enchilada sauce – I used Hatch

1 small bag of frozen corn

Mexican shreded cheese

Salt and pepper

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350.

2. Peel and cube the sweet potato into bite sized pieces. Put into steamer basket and cook until soft – about 15 minutes.

3. Drain can of black beans and pour into a large bowl. Add cooked sweet potato and about 3/4 of the jar of salsa. Mix in about half the bag of frozen corn. Add several good shakes of salt and a little pepper. Stir until combined.

4. Using a greased baking dish – take tortilla, spoon in mixture, roll and place seam side down in dish. Don’t panic if they break or spill, just squish them together. Repeat, lining them up side by side until the dish is full.

5. Pour can of sauce over the top of the tortillas so that it’s evenly distributed. Cover top completely with cheese.

6. Bake for about 15-20 minutes or until the top is getting crispy. Serve with a big dallop of sour cream.

 

*this is where a picture would be…but since I thought they were going to be crappy, I didn’t take one! Oh well, use your imagination 😉

 

 

Big Helper

Yesterday morning, Baylor emerged from her bathroom declaring that she had brushed her teeth all by herself. We all got very excited and I made a mental note to rebrush them later…

While passing by her room, I noticed a very strong smell of strawberry…upon further inspection I found that apparently in the “toothpaste on the toothbrush” portion of the morning, she had squirted about a third of the bottle of toothpaste into the sink. And now it was hard and not easily washed off. Crap. I made another mental note to deal with it later.

In the evening, PW and I were making dinner and chatting about schedules when it dawned on me I hadn’t seen or heard the munchkin in a while. My “what are you doing??” yell was answered with “ANYTHING!!” which is translated to I’m not doing anything which is always a lie. Two minutes later she came running into the kitchen announcing that she had cleaned all the toothpaste out of the sink! Awesome, I thought…and then I really thought about her cleaning skills and got a little worried. I asked her to show me her good work…which is where I discovered that apparently in two year old world, cleaning the toothpaste out of the sink means using goldfish crackers to do so.

This time I made a mental note to tell PW that this was a daddy clean up job.

 

Maternity Jorts

I remember being perplexed about this with Baylor, but my animosity towards the designer of maternity clothes has gotten worse this time around. Why the hell do all maternity clothes have bows, cap sleaves, ruffles or all of the above? Why are maternity shorts either of the baggy no shape variety or denim? Why must I dress like a 5 year old OR a redneck? Why doesn’t J.Crew have a maternity line?!

Oh. And don’t get me started on those assholes at Pea In The Pod. Their very nicely cut white shorts are SIXTY DOLLARS. I don’t spend $60 on any one item (ok, face cream. But really, that’s an investment in my future) why the hell would I spend it on shorts that I will wear for MAYBE 1 year total? Those jerks are trying to take advantage of my need for stretching waistlines and decent fabrics.

I mean I get it. I understand that some women want to cover up their arms or are in need of shapeless shorts to cover their posteriors. I was that lady (I tried on my postpartum shorts last week and they fell off while buttoned – Jen the trainer really had her work cut out for her) and there’s a strong possiblity that I’ll be that chick again. However, I have very strong intentions of keeping my sessions with Jen going, running and keeping my cookie cravings to a manageable amount (1 box is not a serving size). That said, until I balloon so the size of, well a balloon, I would like to look decent until the point where I wrap myself in a bed sheet toga style and call it a day.

See what I mean?

Ugh. The frayed cuff is a nice touch.

If I wanted to dress like Mrs. Dugger, I would grow my hair to my butt and move to Arkansas. Until then, no gracias.

Where to start? The pattern? The sleeves?  Bleh.

I guess where you see a need, it makes sense to fill it. I’m over starting a retail store though so if anyone out there is feeling ambitions, lets talk; I’ll design the clothes and the store, you run it and sell stuff – deal? Until then, I’ll be the lady hunting around Target and then running to the tailor to make me a decent wardrobe for the foreseeable future.

Aunt Beth

I’ve been a step-aunt for several years now, but last Thursday I became a full fledged aunt when Mr. Mason finally made his entrance into the world! At 7lbs, 19 inches and just a smattering of hair, he really is cute!

And thankfully his mother was able to talk his father out of naming him Vercingetorix. Not kidding. That was on the table. Gary finally relented and said that it would be up to Ali to explain to him some day why his name isn’t as cool as it could have been. Ali was happy to take on that responsibility knowing that Mason would probably endlessly thank her for talking him out of it.