Jeff says I have a bad habit (I consider it more of a necessity) of giving him driving directions when we’re in the car together.  It’s less that I give him directions really and more that I point to a turn lane here and there or occasionally tap my finger on the passenger side window to let him know that he should be merging to his right.  No biggie.

     No biggie that is until I realized that when the two of us are in the car together he completely relies on me to get us to our destination in spite of the fact that he is the one behind the wheel.  And I know that in that kind of situation the very best thing I can do is smile lovingly at him from my copilot post and go on with the pointing and the tapping.  Unfortunately for me though I’m not best known for holding my tongue. 

     I mean, I legitimately wonder what specifically it is about marrying me that rendered him incapable of doing the things he once handled so splendidly on his own. 

     So I had to ask.  What it is about marriage that makes a man’s brain turn to mush?

     My husband is not quick to anger.  He’s about as laid back and easygoing as they come.  Something about the whole brain to mush comment though really didn’t set well with him.

     Things escalated rather quickly and we went from what I thought was a pleasant discussion to something that didn’t even resemble pleasant.  I ended up pulling one of those moves where I turned as far towards the window as I could without actually, you know, falling out of it.

     The bright side, if there was one, was that I learned why his brain has been mushified.  Oh, and it’s a good one ladies.  One that I’m sure you’ll all appreciate.

     It was my fault.

     Apparently, throughout our marriage he has become accustomed to the tapping and the pointing.  So much so, in fact, that his own sense of direction has all but vanished.  It makes perfect sense really.  Technically, he can get us from Point A to Point B.  That is, of course, as long as nobody minds taking the scenic route and passing by Points G, R, and M along the way.

     So I did the good wifey thing (ya know, for the sake of loving, honoring, cherishing, yada yada yada) and attempted to zip my lip.  I sat quietly by while we piddled around town and wasted countless tanks of gas.  I bit my toungue and let him blaze his own trail even though my trail was far more time and cost effective.  I smiled through gritted teeth as he turned left when he should have turned right.  And he responded well to this newfound driving freedom. 

     I loved the freedom too.  So what if we’re a few minutes late to church?  Who cares that the price of gas has skyrocketed and we’re wasting enough fuel during our excursions to power a fleet of MINI Coopers.  Through it all I kept quiet.  I stood (well, sat really) in silent support at his side as he drove his way back into the manhood that lie in wait behind the wheel.  The glare of the open road, it seemed, freed him.

     It also blinded him.

     By golly he never even saw the cop coming.  Funny, seeing as how from my post right by his side I saw the telltale sirens atop the SUV coming towards us for at least a good 20 seconds.  I mean, between that Sheriff’s SUV and our minivan there were TWO vehicles on a lonely desert road.  I can see how he might have missed it.

     So you must be wondering if the Sheriff was the nicey nicey warning type or the rough and tumble speeding ticket type.  He was the latter.  Jeff spent the majority of Easter Sunday in traffic school.  And seeing as how I am not widely known for biting my tongue you can imagine how well I handled thatlittle diddy.

     We learned our lesson from that one, a lesson eerily similar to other lessons in our past.  I’ll go ahead and put it in writing here so that he we can refer back to it should the need arise.

     I am usually right.  If I am not right, chances are you’ll never know because I will find out before you and I won’t tell you.  It’s best if we just base all of our future interactions on the assumption that I’m right.  Let’s just leave it at that.  M’Kay?

     Look what came in the mail today!  I won these adorable luggage tags in a giveaway over at Musings of a Housewife.  They are made by My Charmed Life and they are going to come in really handy when I’m trying to discern which bag is mine as a ton of lookalikes go trolling by on the baggage carousel.  Thanks ladies!

I’ve never done a “Works For Me Wednesday” tip before.  Mostly it’s because I’m more resourceful than creative.  By that I mean that I don’t really come up with cool ideas, rather, I borrow them from those in the know.  This tip is no different.  But it is such a handy piece of knowledge to have that it just wouldn’t be right to keep it all to myself.  So I’m sharing.

When we were moving out of our rental a few years ago (and doing that torturous cleaning to get our deposit back) I could not, for the life of me, scrub the ring from the toilet.  I tried every cleaning solution and scrubby tool I could find, all to no avail.  It wasn’t until I was talking with a neighbor who was also moving out of a rental a few months later that I learned the be-all end-all solution to this stubborn (and really quite nasty) problem.  And you’d never guess what I’m about to tell you.

Drywall Sanding Sheets.

I know.  Who’da thunk?  It’s true though.  You can buy them at the hardware store.  They typically are sold in packages that contain five sheets or so.  If you aren’t familiar with drywall sanding sheets (hello, who is?) you might be surprised to hear that they are sort of like screen material.  You just fold them up and scrub at the hard water (or whatever it is) ring in the toilet and like magic it will disappear.  I promise.  And unlike some other methods, this one won’t scratch your porcelain throne.  It will leave it shiny and pristine though.  And really, who doesn’t want a shiny and pristine throne.  I mean it’s not like you’re going to put anything gross in there.

Oh.  Okay.  You got me there.  Try it anyway though.  It works for me!

     Three of my four children are heinously opposed to eating foods that contain any traces of vitamins or minerals.  It’s not for a lack of trying though; I make valiant efforts to fill them up with the good stuff.  I credit Dr. Oz for my conscientiousness.  He’s totally HQP (high quality person) material in my book.  It wasn’t until he came along and broke it down for me that I began to pay serious attention to what we were eating.  And those aforementioned three children of mine aren’t lining up to shake his hand for his contributions either. 

     I think they’ve learned something though, whether they’ll admit it or not.  Nowadays, when we go to the grocery store, they check the first five ingredients of a food before they ask me to buy it.  They know that if they see the words, “enriched, sugar, salt, or hydrogenated” within those first five listings, I’m going to turn them down so fast they’ll forget what a Twinkie even is.

     So, as you might imagine, when I find a way to make the foods they will actually let pass through the thrones that are their lips even more nutritionally sound, I’m all over it.  And, friends, let me just say that pizza is one of the few things they love that won’t transform their arteries into marshmallowy conglomerates through which nothing can pass.  At least not the way I make it.  Check out how easy it is to pimp out a pie.

     The best way – make that the only way - to build a proper pizza is to start with a homemade crust.  It’s easier than it sounds.  For real.  I use Bob’s Red Mill flour.  It’s readily available even in everyday grocery stores.  You may have to look for it in the organic section though.  I use the recipe on the side of the package, only I sub in some whole wheat flour.  See there?  I’m makin’ it healthy peeps.  You take 1 T. of yeast and toss it into your Kitchen Aid (or whatever) with 1 c. warm water.  Use the dough hook attachment and stir it up real nice.  While that’s mixing away, combine the 1.5 cups of the Bob’s Red Mill bread flour and 1 cup Bob’s Red Mill whole wheat flour with 1 t. each of sugar and salt.  Stir it up.  Add 2. T of EVOO (shout out to Rach - but for the rest of you it’s olive oil), to the yeast that is mixing away.  Pour in the flour combo and turn that bad boy mixer up till it’s all doughy.  Then you’re going to let it rise for about 30 minutes or so.  No biggie.  Here’s what it looks like after it’s all rolled out and slathered up with some homemade pizza sauce. 

     As for that homemade pizza sauce, don’t sweat it.  If you dig the store brand go for it.  Heck, you could even use spaghetti sauce.  But since I’ve been Dr. Ozzified I make my own.  It’s one of those teensy cans of tomato paste mixed with one can of water.  Toss in about a palm full of dried or fresh oregano, and basil.  Add a pinch of Kosher salt, a squirt or two of honey, some EVOO again (maybe a teaspoon), a clove of garlic, and batta bing batta boom – you’re good to go.

     Who could forget the cheese?  I just buy the pre-shredded bagged pizza cheese.  Cheese is cheese, know what I mean?  And if you want to protect those arteries (and thighs) go light on it.  Then comes the fun part: the toppings.  Be creative here.  This is where I add in some veggies not only for my tastebuds, but for the sake of the children.  What are they gonna do, turn down pizza?  I think not.

      These are my personal favorites.  To me, a pizza just isn’t the same without roasted red peppers, sweet pineapple, salty green olives, tangy artichoke hearts, and flavorful Roma tomatoes.  And in case you’re wondering, no: I don’t do meat.  Not so much as a matter of health.  Not a matter of cruelty to animals either.  I’m not into PETA.  It’s just something I did a long time ago and it would be too weird to go back now.

     I bake my pizzas on stones that I’ve left in the oven while it’s preheating (450).  I dust them with corn meal before I lay out my crust and start piling on the toppings.  Depending upon how you like your pie, it will take about 15-25 minutes to bake.  Oh, and friends, the smell that will waft through your house as it bakes makes all that time spent waiting excruciating.  But once you pull your concoction from the oven, you will thank me.  Yes.  You will.

And you thought the desert was nothing more than tumbleweed, dust, and lizards.  Just look at what I saw this morning as I went for my morning wannabe run 5K training session. 

     It’s been one of those days where life has come at me well over the speed limit at which I’m comfortable.  So, rather than further deplete my weary, overworked brain cells by coming up with a pithy post, I’m going to zoink a fun one from one of my favorite bloggers, The Queen B.  I hardly think she’ll mind seeing as how she zoinked it from Lisa, over at Take 90 West (another of my picks for groovy bloggers). 

     Thanks gals, for being an ace in the hole.

     Where is your cell phone?  In my purse, probably with a dead or nearly dead battery.  Thanks for the reminder to pull it out and plug it in.

     Your significant other?  On the couch in the next room.  I can hear the sports on the TV.  Baseball I think.  He was so successful at his fantasy football (and hockey, and basketball) team that he currently fantasizes three baseball teams.  I don’t know what else he fantasizes, but if it’s only baseball, I can live with that.

     Your hair?  Getting on my nerves.  Every six months to a year the drabness of it begins to get on my nerves.  And then I cut it.  And then I regret it and let it grow out.  And then I start over.

     Your mother?  Not nearly close enough.

     Your father?  Hmmm.  I inherited my love for all things practical jokey from him.

     Your favorite thing?  Hmm.  If we’re talking *things* I would have to say my house.  My computer is right up there on the list too though.

     Your dream last night?  I was on a school bus with two girls I knew in high school who were not my friends.  Not enemies.  Just not friends.  Acquaintances.

     Your favorite drink?  That depends.  If it is the weekend, wine.  Monday – Thursday, water.

      The room you are in?  My bedroom. 

     Your ex?   Which one?

     Your fear?  “C” word that rhymes with dancer.  Or losing any piece of what makes my life so perfect in spite of it being so far from perfect.

     Where do you want to be in 6 years?  On the bestseller shelf.  Well, not *me* physically.  My book. 

     Where were you last night?  Right here.  Ask me that same question just about any night and you’d get the same answer.  I don’t get out much.

     What you are not?  Fake.  A party animal.  Trendy.  A career woman.

     Muffins?  Love ‘em.  I’ve taken to calling myself blueberry because I am none too pleased with the muffin top that has taken residence around my mid-section since squeezing out a nine pound baby nearly two years ago.  Can you say tummy-tuck?  I am *so* there as soon as I can afford it.

     One of your wish list items?  Just one?  Okay.  A blackberry.  I need to jump on the techie bandwagon.  What’s that you say?  A blackberry is *so* ten minutes ago?  Oh.  It’s hip equivalent then.

     Where you grew up?  A beautiful place that leaves my heart aching for the comforts of home from time to time.  Too expensive there now though.  And no good jobs.  So here I stay.

     The last thing you did?  Talked on the phone to a friend in crisis.

     What are you wearing?  Running shorts and a sports bra with a tank over it to hide my blueberry.

     Your TV?  Surprisingly quiet in spite of the sports.

     Your pets?  We’re not pet people.

     Your computer?  Desktop, for now.  Check back in a couple of weeks though…

     Your life?  Does not remotely resemble the life I had planned.  Yet still, it’s splendid beyond compare.

     Your mood?  Peaceful, in spite of a foreboding to-do list.

     Missing someone?  My friend Monica from high school.  She sent me the nicest card the other day out of the blue. 

     Your car?  Just celebrated it’s one year anniversary of being in our family.  It’s a minivan.  I really didn’t want another minivan.  But the distance at which my children are able to sit from each other makes every last geeky inch of it worthwhile.

     Something you are not wearing?  Perfume.  I never do.  It makes my head hurt.

     Favorite store?  Let’s pretend money is not an issue.  Z Gallerie. 

     Your summer?  Hot.  Hot.  Hot.  It’s the desert, remember?  Dry heat, shmy heat.

     Like someone?  I like lots of someones.  Don’t you?

     Your favorite color?  Green.

     When is the last time you laughed?  Last night when I read Kellie’s comment on my post.

     Last time you cried?  The night before I went to Disney World for the mommy bloggers weekend.  It’s a guilt thing.

     Who will repost this?  What do I look like, John Edward?  I don’t know.

     And with that I’ve typed my last for the evening.  I’ll be a force to be reckoned with tomorrow.  Promise.

     You remember that Mexican restaurant I talked about in this post?  Well folks, brace yourself for the shocker of the century: we went back after church again today.  Yep.  I told my family that I thought we should go to the other location of the restaurant so as not to be recognized by Tyler, the server who waited on us twice in one week.  But no.  They were in agreement that it didn’t matter if Tyler recognized us.  In fact, they mistakenly believe that Tyler recognizing us is a good thing.  We leave Tyler a good tip = Tyler gives us great service. 

     We did endure quite a lengthy spell of bad service there, but obviously we weathered that storm.  And for good reason.  You see, this particular restaurant offers free kids meals Sunday through Wednesday.  And I’m telling you that with every bone in my body I am convinced that when they see us coming they regret ever having said that they offer free kids meals Sunday through Wednesday.  They can’t possibly make money on us.  It’s just fiscally impossible.

     The whole free kids meals thing is partially to blame for my embarrassment.  I don’t want people to think that we only go there because the kids eat free.  Although free kids meals are definitely a motivating factor.

     Also though, I have a thing with food.  I don’t like people to watch me eat.  I won’t eat unless the person I am with is eating as well.  I don’t eat food unless it is either: a) made in a restaurant or b) made by someone I know.  And for some reason, the whole loyal customer at a restaurant thing really plays into my food paranoia.

     Yeah.  Another one of my fun quirks.

     So today, as we walked up to the restaurant, I said a silent prayer in my head that Tyler not be at work today.  But alas, Tyler was.  And by golly wouldn’t you know that Tyler was more than happy to serve us.  Again.  The poor lad is begging for punishment I tell ya.  And when I ordered the same old chicken tacos, he suggested perhaps I give the shrimp version a try for a change.  My face, I’m sure, turned a thousand shades of red and I politely explained that I’m not big on fish.  Be a dear, Tyler, and move on to the next person please.  Let’s not talk about what I’ll be eating today.  Please.  Oh.  And get this.  Today, Tyler offered to give us drinks without charging us. 

     I. Was. Mortified.

     Both my daughter and my husband think it’s a kick in the pants that I am embarrassed by this sort of thing.  And really, when it gets right down to it, I know it’s ridiculous.  But when Tyler knows my family well enough to pretty much peg what each of us is going to order, I gotta say, I want to crawl under the table and hide.

     This is why we sit on the patio.  I figure that if we sit on the patio we won’t bring as much attention to ourselves and our gaggle of children.  Luckily, Jayce seems to have overcome the whole food throwing phase he went through, but between his occasional shrieks, Cassidy’s constant belching (that’s another story best saved for posts that don’t involve food), and Kennedy’s refusal to touch anything that Cassidy has touched, we make for a fairly loud and unforgettable family. 

     So you can imagine how thrilled I was when a woman who either could see dead people or had indulged in one after-church cocktail too many was seated one table away from us.  We had just barely been served our chips and salsa when I noticed the two older girls snickering away and trying to hide their faces in their napkins.  Apparently I had been so busy feigning indifference that I failed to notice when our new table neighbor began speaking quite loudly to “Mom.”  She wanted to have a perfectly normal conversation with her mother.  Perfectly normal, that is, had her mother actually been there.

     At one point though she grew tired of conversing with invisible mom and decided instead to pick on invisible Bob.  “You’re a bad man Bob.  And you’re not going to fool them into thinking you aren’t.  I’m going to tell the country about you Bob.”

     We heard all about Bob’s indiscretions.  And how the President of the National Association for the Blind was going to rip into Bob for his indiscretions.  And how the woman was going to let the entire country know of Bob’s indiscretions.

     But she didn’t just shout these things at invisible Bob from her table.  Oh no.  She would stand and stagger past our table to the edge of the patio and shout at the top of her lungs towards the parked cars in the lot.  And when she’d said her piece she’d stagger back past our table to hers.  

     Now, my older two certainly appreciated the free entertainment while they dined but as for Cassidy and Jayce, um, not so much.  Cassidy took it upon herself to shout back at the woman to “Stop It!” and to “Be quiet!”.  Behavioral issues, of course, are an inherent challenge with Cassidy’s disability and we do our best to quell issues when we can.  But this, my friends, was a difficult situation to say the least.  Throw in Jayce’s intermittent pleads to the woman to “STOP!” and you could say we had a bit of a circus going on.  My favorite though was when the woman told invisible Bob that, “they’re laughing at you.”  I really can’t be sure who the “they” in question was, but oh how I hoped invisible Bob wasn’t offended.

     Yeah.  So as it turns out my suggestion to patronize the other location of the Mexican restaurant probably would have been a good choice today.  Because if we had we likely wouldn’t have become center stage entertainment in the place where more than anything I wanted to don a sombrero and disappear.  I could have just enjoyed my tacos and faded off into the mariachi inspired background.

     Stand up and take notice my friends.  I was right.  Again. 

     Hmmm.  That makes me realize something.  I need to start a  category along the lines of, “Times I was Right.”  I may just have to do that. 

    You know how last weekend I was at Disney World meeting all those amazing mommy bloggers?  Well, who’d a thunk that I’d come home and within a week have the opportunity to meet another?  I know.  Wonders never cease.  But that, my friends, is exactly what happened.

     Not long after starting my blog I came across Kellie while surfing through other blogs.  Right away I noticed that we share a birthday and so I, of course, had to send her a shout out.  And because I liked her site design and laid back, honest writing style, I kept checking in on her over the course of a week or two to see what she was up to.  As I read more and more of her posts I found lots of similarities between the two of us.  But when I saw this and read that she, too, lives in the desert, I was curious if she was close by. 

     A few more emails were exchanged before we realized that not only do we live in the same desert city, but that we live within just a few miles from each other.  I know!  Crazy stuff isn’t it?

     Well, despite the warnings against a real life get together with a person you met on the internet, Kellie and I decided to do just that.  At least we opted to meet in a public place (the park).  You know, that way if she had wielded an axe I could have easily screamed for help.  As it turned out though Kellie and her two kids weren’t armed with anything but a couple bottles of water and some folding lawn chairs.

     I had such a great time hanging out at the park with Kellie and her sister-in-law, Dana.  Come to find out Kellie and I weren’t the only ones who had some similarities; Dana and I both have four children that are around the same ages.  In fact, between the three of us we had enough kids there to start our own baseball team!

     If you don’t count Cassidy’s perpetual pleads for me to help her on the monkey bars and Kennedy’s momentary lapse of behavioral judgement I think our first meeting went off without a hitch.  I learned more about Kellie and her family (including the fact that she carries both sunscreen and band-aids in her purse - hello, mom of the year?) and enjoyed a beautiful afternoon with them at the park.  And how could I be anything other than honored to hear that Kellie braved this and shaved her legs just to meet lil’ ol’ me!

     The park escapade was tons of fun but we’ve already decided that next time, we’re totally doing the mom’s night out thing.  New friends meeting for a sunny park play date?  That’s good stuff.  But new friends breaking bread with a glass of wine close at hand?  Now that’s even better.

     My new blogger friend, Jennifer, has decided to do a Destination Disney carnival and because we all know that I’m a bit of a Disneyphile, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to join in.  The theme for this debut weekend is “Disney Magic.”  And really, once you’ve been there and experienced it,  you’ll see that it’s all magic. 

      Having practically grown up at Disneyland, I was already an uber fan of all things Disney.  So when I got the chance to go to Disney World for the first time in 2001, you can bet I jumped at the opportunity.  And in the many times we’ve gone back since, countless memories have been made.

    Like the time we celebrated at Mickey’s Not So Scary Halloween Party in style, all dressed up in a Peter Pan theme.  We must have looked especially festive because as we stood staring at Cinderella Castle, a Cast Member approached and asked if we’d like to act as Grand Marshalls for the special Halloween parade.  I bet you can guess what our answer was. 

     Oh, and if you’ve checked out my video on the moms panel site, you’ve heard the story of the time the girls were all lined up against the nautical rope at Disney’s Beach Club and I was brought to tears because I was so happy to have my family back together after Jeff’s stint in Iraq.  Here’s the visual:

     Of course, both of those magical memories happened before sweet Mr. Jayce came along.  Not to worry though; I’ve already started him out on his Disney journey.  Here he is getting his very first (and much needed) haircut from Beverlene at the Harmony Barber Shop on Main Street in the Magic Kingdom.

     We’re made of Disney memories.  And, let me assure you, there are plenty more to follow.  We’re currently counting down the days to our next Disney vacation in the fall!  I’ll be sure to share all the details…

     As Tigger would say, TTFN!

     We have a winner in the Target gift card giveaway!  Kristen from No Small Thing is the lucky girl who’ll be receiving the prize.  Congratulations Kristen!  Go out and buy yourself something fun.  And don’t let those kiddos talk you into spending it on Icees.  ;)

     Funny story about this though.  The original winning comment, which was randomly chosen from all eligible entries, belonged to my daughter, Torri.  Can you believe that?  What are the odds?  Seeing as how I didn’t feel that would go over well with the other 385 entrants I bribed her into accepting a new pair of Abercrombie shorts in lieu of the Target cash and she happily accepted.  It seems this giveaway is costing me a bit more than I bargained for…

     I had fun reading through all of your comments.  All 386 of them.  And because this giveaway generated such a great response I’m going to be sure to do another in the near future so stay tuned!