Quinoa Loaf with Tomatillos

I made the following last night. It is based on a recipe from the March/April 2010 issue of The Whole Deal. I don't like mushrooms, so I changed it a bit.

1 T olive oil
4 small tomatillos, sliced
Salt and pepper to taste
1 15 oz (or so) can Garbanzo Beans, rinsed and drained
3/4 c rolled oats
2 cups cooked Quinoa
1 cup frozen Green Peas or 1 can Green Peas, drained
1 t crushed Rosemary
1 can diced Fire Roasted Tomatoes
1 onion, chopped

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease a loaf pan or casserole dish. Heat oil in skillet over medium-high heat. Add tomatillos, salt and pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until brown around the edges. Put beans, oats, tomatillos, and 1/2 cup water in blender or food processor and blend until almost smooth. In a large bowl, combine bean mixture, quinoa, peas, rosemary, tomatoes, onion, salt and pepper to taste. Put in loaf pan/casserole dish. Bake until firm and golden brown, 1 to 1 1/4 hours. Slice and serve.

Four out of five people at my house gave it thumbs up. Clay said he wanted to spit it back onto his plate.

Conversations with Clay

"Happy Holidays" from the old movie, Holiday Inn, came on when we were in Subway.

Clay starts grumbling about having to listen to it, because it reminds him of when I used to force him to listen to John Travolta.

I stare at him like he's grown another head.

Me: What are you talking about?!
Clay: You used to play John Travolta over and over.
Me: WHAT? I can't even tell you the name of one single John Travolta song.
Clay: We're listening to one right now!
Me: That's Bing Crosby.
Clay: No it's not. It's John Travolta!
Me: The guy who played the mom in Hair Spray?
Clay: Oh...no, not him.

He meant Frank Sinatra. We then had an argument about if it was Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra singing "Happy Holidays."

Conversations with My Children

Me: Stop harassing me!
Clay: Be thankful I'm harassing you. At least I'm paying attention to you!
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Me: How's Matt?
Aaron: Good

Me: How's Brad?
Aaron: Good

Me: How's Crystal
Aaron: Good
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Callie: OH MY GOSH! Clay has those glasses! (Looking at the cover of Rolling Stone)
Me: Don't you know who that is?
Callie: It's Bono.
Me: And he gave the glasses to Clay.
Callie: I know!
Me: Then why are you surprised to see them on Bono?
(And yes, I know he has many pairs of those glasses.)
Callie: I don't know.

Callie: Are we going to the Smith's tonight?
Me: No, we're going Saturday night.
Callie: Are we going to the wedding?
Me: No, we're going to the Smith's!
Callie: Are we going to the Smith's tonight?
Me: NO!

The Punk at Pine Cove

It looks like the punk is having a good time at Pine Cove. We get him back on Saturday.

Frightingly Funny

This makes me laugh and scares me all at the same time.

Wii can be painful

Clay saved up his money and bought a Wii and I am here to tell you that playing one can be very painful.

After bowling what Aaron figured out to be over 100 frames I could hardly move the next day without wanting to scream. I tried bowling one game against my husband the evening after my 100+ frames and it felt as if my left arm was being pulled from the shoulder socket. My darling kids got a big kick out of me screaming every time it was my turn.

My Coventry pals thought it was a hoot I was so sore from playing a video game. By that day the pain had moved across my chest and it hurt to laugh, so I spent the day grabbing my chest because we laugh A LOT at Coventry.

My soreness is gone. I haven't bowled in awhile. For one, I haven't had time (not that it takes much time to bowl by yourself) and secondly, I am just a tad bit nervous about doing it again.

White Christmas and Hominy

The wind is blowing 90 to nothing. I have no idea what that really means, but when I say it I mean that the wind is blowing very hard. I'm sitting at home due to a cold that chose to attack on Thursday. Most of the rest of the family is at the Union Gospel Mission sitting in on the chapel service, then they will help serve the meal and clean up. Wish I could be with them. I enjoy our time there. Haley is at Pine Cove for the Christmas retreat. She rode the bus down with the Tower and Ranch campers.

This past week went by fast. Aaron wrapped up school on Monday. Corinn had one of her tests bumped till Thursday due to our one day of ice. She wasn't too happy about that. Haley made it home on Wednesday, two days late because of the ice. Callie finished school on Friday. I attended a Christmas party for the staff and volunteers at Coventry. I didn't think I would be able to go due to a meeting, but it got canceled and I was able to make most of the party.

We usually try to watch White Christmas every year. We don't always pull it off, but on Thursday we did. We know all the lines, all the songs, and all of the editing mistakes. Clay complained about it quite a bit, but what do you expect from a grumpy thirteen year old boy? Corinn and Aaron's significant others came over for dinner and the viewing. Last time Micah was here for dinner I almost killed everyone with a roast made out of an old boot. It was horribly tough and I usually make a very good pot roast, but this was beyond bad. I choked so bad I couldn't breathe and had to lose the piece in the sink. It was terrible, terrible, terrible. This time I fixed Taco Soup and it was a winner. Except I put the wonderful vegetable, hominy, in my Taco Soup and that led to a major discussion and then a flat out wrestling match between Haley and Aaron. I kid you not. It was a full contact meal. Who knew hominy could provoke such violence? I love hominy and so do two of my girls. Apparently my boys, including my husband, do not. And now, Micah has chimed in on the anti-hominy side. I accused him of just trying to win brownie points with Phil.

Has anyone ever noticed how white White Christmas is? Many, many years ago Phil and I were dealing with a sick child and were up later than usual tending to their needs. There was a knock on the door and our backyard neighbor's teenage girls were standing on the doorstep. One had a butcher knife. Their parents were at a Christmas party and it sounded like someone was trying to come through their front door, so they hightailed it to ours. We called the police and they came and checked it all out. It seems that when the wind hit the Christmas Wreath it would make sounds like a person trying to pick the lock and get through the door. So, the girls settled back in. In a few minutes they were back asking if they could stay until their parents got home (they were on their way). We, of course, said yes and asked them to watch White Christmas with us. That is when I discovered just how white White Christmas is. Our neighbors were African-American and the only people of color in that movie are the porters and bartenders. They didn't say anything, but I've never forgotten how I felt as I watched it with them.

I like it when I get taken out of my comfort zone (most of the time) 'cause it makes me look at things from a different point of view. I hope it makes me a better person.

Okay, the ramblings are over. I'm rambled out.

Bloated Thighs

My thirteen year old takes choosing and building a costume very seriously. As in "drive everyone around you up the wall" seriously. This year he has chosen "hippie" as his costume. Today he tried on what he had pulled together and decided that it looked too "Johnny Depp piratety".

Back to the drawing board.

I grabbed some things from my closet. I know, it's scary. He took them upstairs to mix with his stash (and by that I mean wardrobe pieces). Down the stairs he came stating that his thighs looked bloated. Apparently the shorts under the baggie linen pants made his thighs looked bloated. Wow! That's not something I would have ever dreamed of hearing my son say.

But, the ensemble worked. He looked full fledged hippyish.
Do his thighs looked bloated to you?

My Son is Weird

"I don't like the smell of paper after it has been in the freezer."

Huh?

That's My Boy

Not Gonna Smile For My Sister
Will Smile About Fried Gecko Found At Swim Party

Typical Boy!

My thirteen-year old son and I went a week without fighting!

My 13 year old son, the one that isn't suppose to speak to me until his fourteenth birthday, and I went for 6 days without having cross words.

And then we picked him up from camp.

I'm too old and don't how to do stuff or Life With a Thirteen Year Old

My thirteen year old son, the one that isn't suppose to be talking to me until he turns fourteen, informed me yesterday that I was too old to wear jeans with holes in the knees.

I didn't buy the jeans with the holes in the knees. I wore the holes in the knees. I earned those holes. I can wear those holes.

My thirteen year old son, the one that still isn't suppose to be talking to me until he turns fourteen, informed me tonight not to get the water too hot for MY yorkie's bath.

It's my dog. I've bathed him before. I've bathed the standard poodle. I've bathed the jack russell. I've bathed the thirteen year old's baby bottom and four of his older siblings. I think I've mastered the temperature of bathwater. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

Okay, I feel better now.

This 13 Might Do Me In

Anyone who has had teenagers knows how fun having a thirteen year old can be. I've done it five times now. This last one might do me in.

Me on Saturday MORNING (meaning I had already had my fill of thirteen year old for the day!): Let's make a deal. I won't speak to you and you won't speak to me until you turn 14, okay?

Clay: And what if I haven't changed by the time I'm 14?

I can't bear the thought!

If you have a teenager you have probably had a conversation like this...

Me, as I walk into the kitchen: What'cha doing?

Clay: I'm making me something to eat 'cause there's no food in this house!

Me: So how are you making something to eat if there's no food?

Clay: EXACTLY! I have to make something 'cause there's no food!

I will never make you happy...

My 12 year old son expressed to me that he was not happy with a decision I had made. I told him that I will never make him happy, so therefore, I am not trying to make him happy.