Chicken Soup Better Than Your Momma's

Chicken soup with heavy cream, Parmesan cheese and cooking sherry is being served over at What's for Dinner?.
It's the only chicken soup I make and I will never need another chicken soup again. Unless someone else cooks their Chicken Soup for me. In that rare instance, their soup will be better than my soup. I will eat it and love it. Then follow them home and ask to be adopted.

Here I am making the stock for the Chicken Soup. See my apron? It was an early birthday gift from someone special. Aprons make everything taste better. This one matches my decor. It's so Martha! I'm so Martha in it!


I discovered that I loooooove wearing aprons. I feel so official (as if wiping snotty noses on my shirt tale and cleaning toilets didn't feel official enough). Sometimes I wear it to watch TV (did you see Top Chef last night?). I decided that there was nothing better than to wear an apron all day long.

Then I came home from a tennis lesson and put on my apron. I have changed my mind about the apron. There is nothing better than wearing an apron over a tennis skirt. Pure bliss. I'm officially athletic, officially cute (in the little skirt) and officially a great mom and cook.

Where is the UPS man when you need him? The stars would have to be perfectly aligned for me to #1 not be wearing pajamas at noon, #2 have applied make-up that day, #3 be wearing a tennis skirt and #4 be preparing a meal while wearing my apron. But what would he think when he rang the bell and there I would be...all aproned and skirted and the sweet smell of a gourmet dinner in the air. He would surly ask be to run away to Brownsville with him!

A girl can dream. And eat Creamy, Parmesany, Sherried Chicken Soup.

Hum? What is this I see hidden in the corner behind a chair? Is that someone's Easter basket?Yes, it looks like someone was hiding back here with their Easter basket. But what could they have been doing? Is that a Reese's Peanutbutter Cup wrapper I see?
Why yes it is a Reese's wrapper. They must have been sneaking Easter candy without permission. And what is that piece of clothing?Elmo panties? Good gravy. What was she...I won't even ask.

A Big One Makes Pat Happy

I've never been one to think that size really mattered, but apparently it does. Today the patient received a package in the mail. Since I am the one home alone with el sick-o I would have preferred for the package to have been delivered via my favorite shipping company, The United Parcel Service, where the men in brown take such good care of the packages and would have come to my door and chit-chatted while the gimp lay helpless in the bed wondering where his ice bag was and why I had not come back to his side, refilled his juice and massaged his...oh never mind. But I won't look the gift horse in the mouth (whatever that means).

Above, the nurse delivers the patient the package (By the way, she would have preferred UPS too).

The patient is excited. Even before he opens the box, he can tell it is the "big daddy" he has always wanted.

Kelly must appreciate big ones, too. Careful there Little Lady, don't set your expectations too high; you are bound to be disappointed. Pat is reading the directions and already making plans for his next prescribed burn.

Thank you, Jeff, for thinking of Pat when you ran across this extra large lighter. You must have remembered this post and knew that Pat loves burning down woods. Thanks to you, he is now cured. He has left the bed, his shoulder is in perfect condition and he has figured out how to flick the bic!

Below is our backyard early this morning. Hello trees. I have always been grateful that we did not cut you down when we built. One day our children will climb you and create memories that will last forever. See? The kids are grateful for the trees too.

I'll call this shot BEFORE the big one.

And below...

AFTER the big one

On another note, I must tell all how helpful the miniature nurse has been to the lame husband. She is there for his every beck and call. She yearns to please him. She insists on delivering his food, fetching his napkins, refilling his cold compress. I'll tell ya where I'd like to stick that cold compress. She also wants to wear her nurse apron while doing her duties. She is a regular Clara Barton, that one! One day she will make some man very happy, and I'm afraid it won't be her daddy.

I have had two sisters make suggestions regarding this little nurse's apron and myself and I have one comment for you: Are you nuts? I need him to get better and I will not encourage this type of sickly behavior.

Happy Easter!

The Easter Bunny made it safely to our house last night. He ate the lettuce and carrots we left out for him and he brought Patrick a jump rope he's been asking for.

I guess the bunny didn't realize Kelly would also have liked a jump rope.

After we played tug-a-war (in our new swimming goggles) it was time to hunt for some eggs. On your mark. Get set.

Go!

And they're off...

Sam enjoyed watching, but really had eggs on his mind. And bacon. And pancakes.

Eggstra Easter Eggs?

If you have eggstra Easter eggs, peas try this salad at What's For Dinner.

Shoulder Surgery

I am on my second XL cup of coffee with Splenda (I'm still on the artificial sweetners despite this) and my favorite milk product (after milkshakes from Scenic 90 Cafe), hazelnut creamer, and therefore feel somewhat human and ready to fill-in my blog-readin'-peeps.

Pat had shoulder surgery on Thursday. It isn't the first time for him, but it is the first time for me as a Shoulder Surgery Recovery Lead Nurse First Housemaid Head Parent. I know you are all wondering... I am doing fine. Ugh, I mean, he is doing fine. He has a lot of pain, but having such good care is really pulling him through the tough times.

Sam went to the doctor for a well check-up this week and he has a full-on ear infection. She gave him a shot of antibiotics, but I am wondering if it worked. He's a bit whiny, but I can never tell if he is just getting spoiled, teething or in ear related pain?

Pat's whining is a little easier to decipher than Sam's. Pat is either feeling under-sexed or his shoulder hurts. Both of which are curable with a couple of Percocets. Thank goodness.

Speaking of drugs, why don't they prescribe meds for the caregiver? Just wondering.

Fifty. That's Five - Oh! Fifty Years Old.

I'm 50. Fifty years old. I like to kiiiiiick and stttttretch and kick! Ladies and gentleman, my name is Sally O'Malley and my caboose may be a little loose, but I can kiiiiiick and sttttttretch and kick. 'Cause I'm 50! Fifty years old!

I put on my red pants 'cause I like to daaaaaance and kiiiiiiiick and sttttttttretch and kick. 'Cause I'm 50. Fifty years old. That's five-oh. Book 'em Dan-o!

This photograph was not staged. It is only coincidence that Kelly resembles Molly Shannon's SNL character Sally O'Malley. Gosh, I miss that skit 'cause I like to shimmy and kick and stretch and kick!

And I know someone who is turning 50 tomorrow...Gus! Happy 50th Birthday, Gus! Do you like to kick and stttttretch and kick? I think of you more as a shimmier than a kicker. You're 50! Fifty years old! That's five -oh! Book 'em Dan-o!