One more day.

If the peanut butter turns out half as good as the batter did, I may have to buy it and eat it myself. I’m so glad someone requested it, one of those flavors I never was too excited about to try and have been missing out.

Here I can admit how frustrated I am. I know I’ve told myself that it didn’t matter, how things turned out, it’s been a good Relay year. Lots of funds raised, more people invited. But I come back to my thoughts from early this year – I don’t see how I can keep doing it. My immediate family has all bailed out this week. My sister won’t even be there for most of it, not her choice of course but still she’s such a great help and will be missed. Braiden is ‘just so sad’ that Emi won’t be with us or staying over like she normally does. Me too, kid, me too. It doesn’t bother me when someone can’t make it, but when they just don’t mention it like I won’t notice when don’t show up or wasn’t counting on them it tends to irritate.

I’m on schedule with the food and behind on everything else. BUT I got myself a clipboard. It’s funny how the littlest things make a difference. Once I start getting things organized and loaded up I probably won’t care about the rest. And once I even out the white shins/sunned calves so I can properly wear shorts – then I just might be ready to get excited

Chicken Fingers

After bending 2 fingers the wrong way the other day (I don’t even remember what I was doing) I definitely strained something.  It’s such a weird feeling to not be able to make a strong fist or hold up 3 fingers.  Braiden got a good kick out of me trying. 

I’ve thought about having at least my right hand looked at for carpel tunnel, the hand I hurt that’s normally the worst. I’m not sure I want to lose full use of a hand for a while, okay mostly I’m scared of that feeling.  My mom had both hands done and said it took 6 months to get them back completely so I could be stuck with that weak feeling a while.  I think I’ll save that for next insurance year and maybe I’ll be less chicken by then.

Sugar Cream Pie

I’m not much of a pie person – I eat two kinds coconut cream or cherry. My grandma made one of the best pies I’ve ever had – a sugar cream pie that’s sort of a cream pie but not. My grandma probably thought I was amazed there was dessert, she always gives me her recipes and tells me to fix them since she’s made them enough times ha. I just love when it’s something new or new to me.

INGREDIENTS
1 prepared 8 inch pastry shell, baked and cooled
1/2 cup butter
1 cup white sugar
1/2 cup milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C).
In the top of a double boiler, combine butter, sugar, 1/2 cup whole milk, cream. Heat until butter is melted and mixture is simmering, stirring occasionally.
In a small bowl, combine 1/2 cup whole milk and cornstarch. Whisk until smooth, then slowly pour into hot cream mixture, whisking constantly. Simmer mixture until thickened, about 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Pour into baked pastry shell and sprinkle with ground nutmeg.
Bake in preheated oven for 5 minutes. Allow to cool before serving.

I think it’s crying out for a bit of cinnamon but that’s our secret.

Holi-day. It’s the best day.

I blame the OnDemand programmers, they make things look so enticing. They know I can’t resist seeing happiness and laughter and all the best scenes and want to know what happens. I watched The Holiday in spite of an aversion to Jude Law, Cameron Diaz, and Jack Black trying out a romcom.

Jude was using his smarmy charm for good rather than evil so it turned out to be okay to watch. I admit I fell for the cheap ploy of making his character not only a single dad, but a widower. I wasn’t expecting all that, I just wanted a corny love tale with ridiculous mishaps. I had to watch this particular scene a couple times, it’s so well said I had to stop doing the dishes and see it again.

I have no defense except that until I get to know someone really well, it’s easier for me to be a normal, single guy; because it is way too complicated to be who I really am. I’m a full-time dad. I’m a working parent. I’m a mother and a father. I’m a guy who reads parenting books and cookbooks before I go to sleep. I spend my weekends buying tutus. I’m learning to sew. I’m Mr. Napkin Head! I’m on some kind of constant overload and it helps to compartmentalize my life, just till I figure this out. This past weekend, the children were with their grandparents and when they are gone, I get to be somebody who doesn’t have hot chocolate spill on his jeans. I have no idea how to date and be this. And I suppose there is, the possibility I am afraid of what another person might do to what we are and how we get from one day to the next.

Damn you Jude and your sensitive eyes that hook me even-though-I-know-better.

Memorial Day

It dawned on me after watching, it was probably aired *because* of the holiday rather than a great coincidence. My brain runs on low at night to save energy I guess. Anyway, caught a great documentary that would make quiet an interesting series, though would be much too depressing.

BAGHDAD ER allows viewers to experience the physical and emotional toll of war by capturing soldiers and care providers in personal moments amidst intense crises inside the 86th Combat Support Hospital. Located in Baghdad’s Green Zone, the facility was formerly the site of an elite medical center for Saddam Hussein’s supporters. Thanks in part to the skill and dedication of trauma center teams like the one depicted in the film, wounded troops in Iraq have a 90 percent chance of survival – the highest rate of war survivors in U.S. history. The selflessness and dedication of those caring for wounded Americans and Iraqis stands in sharp contrast with the chaos of war.

“This is hard-core, raw, uncut trauma. Day after day, every day,” says Specialist Saidet Lanier, an operating room nurse. “Even if you’re lucky enough not to go home with war wounds on the outside, if you’re not equipped with coping skills, you’ll definitely have them on the inside.”

I have a pretty strong stomach but felt a need to focus not to gag as they amputated limbs and more limbs. I try to stay up on the war and not soley from the news. But when you see these people coming in one helicopter after the next all injured (or dead) the same way from IEDs it’s hard to see how one could determine improvement in the situation. Sure in the big picture some good might have come out but it’s never going to stop. Why should our troops have to continue sweeping the streets and buildings? Getting blown up, being delivered in bags, to the hospital to be put back together – or cut apart.

A nurse I work with has returned from a year there. A couple months shy of Reserve retirement she was called to active duty. I haven’t got to work with her yet since she’s come back on a contingent basis but a non-medical unit is probably a good place to return to after the time she’s had. It seems like too much carnage to inflict on someone petite, graying, soft spoken, so motherly and sweet. I look forward to hearing what she’ll share, though I’m sure it’ll be sufficiently scrubbed clean of much of the ugliness she experienced.