Ginger Unplugged

Okay, we all know that it's been alleged that I can't cook. I refuse to believe it and my family plays along because they'd rather not starve (Crash is right now reading over my shoulder and vehemently protesting my lack of skills). Anyway, Husband usually makes fudge for the neighborhood for Christmas but I found this "much easier" recipe in a magazine I accidentally lifted from the Instacare (but that's another blog). It's called Festive Fudge . I thought Husband (by the way, Crash is also vehemently protesting "Husband's" blog nickname. He would like to change it to The Baldinator). Anyway, I thought HUSBAND was going to take this article and do the fudge. He apparently thought I was taking over the fudge making. Consequently it was a fudge madhouse around here the weekend before Christmas. Mistake number one is probably stealing the magazine in the first place. Don't do that. Heaven will not be on your side. No matter how many ti...

One of my current joys in life is carpooling for one and a half hours every school day. This is due to Princess getting out of middle school, then Crash and Butterfly getting out of elementary school, then Princess needing to be to swimming. Monkey and Sleestack have miraculously learned to deal with it gracefully (this is where angels sing the Hallelujah chorus). We also pick up two other kids after elementary school--let's call them Adorable I and Adorable II. They are THE BEST sports. Especially when Crash is in charge of the backseat games. Or someone hit and runs me and I chase them down. Or when someone has a messy diaper. I'm thinking if their mom reads this, their carpooling days may be over. Anyway, they all like to play a variety of games in the backseat, including mind games created on the spot by Crash. Crash: Okay, pig is to bacon as cow is to what? One, two... (Adorable I has three seconds to answer.) Adorable I: WHAT!? Crash: Wrong. The answer is hamburge...

Out and about the other day an adorable little girl came up to me. "Excuse me, Ma'am. Ma'am? Excuse me. But your baby looks like a hippopotamus."

We've long known that Sleestack was special--her awe inspiring eyes, perfect smile and cuteness that makes my neighbor say, "Hey, I even have a baby and YOUR baby is the cutest baby I have ever seen." Her list of talents includes making delightful cooing noises, giggling more than any other 7 month old on the planet, being happy nearly 24/7 and now, eating everything she comes across. Everything. I've decided this is much more advanced behavior than it seems. Because, you know, first she has to see stuff. Little pink bead stuck between the carpet and the wall? No problem. Small bit of white Styrofoam on white carpet? Check, check. That inch of fishing line on the bottom of the baby swing? She hones in on it with laser sharp precision. Next, she has to grasp it. You know I have a lot of kids, right? Well none of them were able to pick up carpet fibers at the age of seven months. Sleestack was born for this task apparently. I've been vacuuming twice a day. Do...