Dogwood Girl Recipes: Bowl of Shame

Bowl of Shame is my favorite snack when I crave something sweet, which is really only when I am . . . let's see, how shall i put this so as not to offend the delicate sensibilities of Natalie's husband? Let's try, "Being visited." Just like little aliens came down and possessed my body and made me eat it, which of course absolves me of the shame. But the shame, oh the shame! That is the part that tastes so good. I am sure of it.

Bowl of Shame

Ingredients

• One child-size individual vanilla chocolate swirl ice cream cup
• Two Pop-Tarts (I prefer iced brown sugar and cinnamon, but I know this could create much dissension in the ranks, so you could totally substitute cherry or strawberry, both of which would go great with the vanilla strawberry swirl ice cream cup, if you feel like you need more fruits in your diet.)
• Peanut Butter (Crunchy is more fun)
• Lite Cool Whip (Because you are, like, totally diet-conscious)
• Honey

Directions

1. Open indy ice cream, turn over upside down and squeeze gently out of plastic cup into soup or salad bowl. (Presentation is everything, people! Extra points if you have a sundae dish!)
2. Break each Pop Tart in half and stick all four halves at an angle, so that they lean against the sides of the bowl, creating awesome ramps of brown sugar icing goodness sloping down to ice cream love.
3. Take one heaping scoop of peanut butter (i use a big-ass serving spoon to measure out the correct amount) and dump it onto the ice cream. Lick spoon clean, or let dog do it for you.
4. Heap one spoon of Cool Whip on top of that, so that you create a swaying, leaning tower of diabetic coma proportions.
5. Squeeze a ton of honey all over it (lady-like drizzling is for pussies), making sure honey is running down pop-tart sides to form a golden pool around the peanut butter and ice cream.
6. Sit in front of tv while watching The Hills, ANTM, or Real World Road Rules Challenge.
   
7. Sink into a physically-satisfying, but mentally degrading heap of self loathing.
8. Feed the children the remaining two Pop Tarts the following morning, despite your usual rule of "no junk," just to get the rest of them out of the house, and then run 3.5 miles in futile attempt to keep mountains of sugary love off of your thighs.
   

Completely Over It

So, an agreement couldn't be made: Pelosi got pissy and started bitching about the President before the vote was taken, and then Republicans got pissy and decided not to vote for the damn thing because Pelosi pissed them off, and the whole fucking lot of them are scared to make a decision that might cost them their seats. No, this is not Days of Our Lives. It's our own American Government. And it is completely ineffective.

Part of me hates the idea that taxpayers should be expected to bail out the greedy fuckers and the stupid people they preyed on; The other part of me just wants to see our elected officials drop the partisan bullshit and work together to accomplish something, just one thing, while in office.

Either way, i hope that when it comes time, we vote every last one of these useless, overpaid, self-serving pieces of crap out of their seats. On both sides of the aisle.

Don't Go in the Marsh!

I think i've written about my love for the blog written by the fine folks at the Wren's Nest. Well, Lain Shakespeare (No, that is his real name), the guy who runs the house museum and the blog, never fails to tickle the child in me with some of his posts. The latest to catch my fancy is one about Six Flags' Monster Plantation, or as it is soon to be called, "Monster Mansion." (I am pretty sure that Monster McMansion would be more appropriate for Atlanta, but I digress.)

Turns out that the original ride was called "Tales fromthe Okefenokee," and it was based on the Joel Chandler Harris stories. Fascinating! A year later they updated the ride to the truly psychedelic Monster Plantation that I knew as a child and yes, as a teenager. I wonder just how many Atlantans growing up had their first hand-holding or first kiss experience in those damp boats floating through the dark tunnels of the Monster Plantation?

Anyway, check out the Wren's Nest blog, and make sure to click on the YouTube videos they posted of Tales from the Okefenokee and Monster Plantation. Be forewarned that they might be nightmare or flashback-inducing for some. (Jason B., this means you. I think that you probably need to post about seeing The Banana Splits on your blog, please.)

Great stuff!

Dead Souls Walking in Georgia Today

That was the worst half of a football game i have ever witnessed. Completely nightmarish, nauseating, and soul-deadening. I can't even really write about it. I do not even have the energy or heart or strength to think about it until maybe tonight or tomorrow.

Southern Hospitality

Wow. Random Bama fan just contacted me after seeing pictures of our seats for last year's Temporary Annulment Day Game. He wanted to know what his seats look like, where to park, etc. I love that he trusts that Dawgwood Girl will get him there in one piece, even though he is the enemy. Gotta love the SEC. And the power of the internets.

Me? I'm a sweetheart. I gave him all the pertinent information, just like a nice hostess should.

Now, Kelly, you let me know what you thought of our humble lil college town. Hope you and your buddy have fun at the Tide's mother*ing funeral. Y'all come back now, ya hear?*


*I really do hope y'all have a nice time. Be safe.

What We Are Laughing at This Morning

Other than Pete Carroll.

What Campaign Ads Would Look Like If the Voting Age Was Six.*

Thanks, Toddler!

I Heart Oregon State

That is all. Off to bed.

Go Rollie Go

Go Rollie Go
Originally uploaded by killmylandlord.

Uncle Mark was nice enough to bring his fancypants camera to Rollie's game last Saturday. This was especially nice, because Todd had gone down to Auburn for the LSU debacle, and I had both Tiller and Rollie for the weekend, a slight wine hangover from my Ya Ya Sisterhood house party on Friday night, and a cooler full of soccer snacks in tow for the game. Lisa and Mark brought Dash, and Mark watched Tills while Lisa and I sat with Dash and cheered for the Cheetah.

Yes, you heard me right: The Cheetah. That is what we overheard someone calling Rollie during the game. Except when we heard it at first, we just thought it was some Yankee calling him a cheater, and . . . well, them's fightin' words.

Okay, i didn't get in a fight, but you pretty much could see it happening, right? I would be the first Soccer Mom kicked off the fields this season for defending her five year old's honor after another parent called him a cheater. Except they were saying Cheetah. As in "boy, that kid's fast."

Anyway, here is a great shot of Rollie breaking away from the pack and headed for the goal. Not that it matters, because THEY DON'T KEEP SCORE. Yes, this drives me crazy.

Complete tangent: Not as crazy as the middle school kids at a private school where a good friend of mine teaches. These kids don't have "Field Day" they have . . . get this . . .

PERSONAL RECORD DAY.

Yep? Why teach middle school kids about gracious winning and losing, when everyone can just compete against themselves? That's JUST like the real world. Don't worry about your score on that SAT!

What the fuck are we coming to? Ridiculous.

Back on track: So, here is my kid, playing in his 2nd ever soccer game. I have some pics from the first game, and video too (highly comical - Wrong Way Corrigans, crying, standing around staring at the ball and not kicking it), but none of them came out as well as this one. Oh, and yeah, there is a shot of me and sis watching the game, but it ain't pretty and it ain' goin' on my blog; I have some dignity.

Thanks again, Uncle Mark.

Voice of My Childhood

Summer evenings growing up, the Braves were always on TBS in the background. And in the Fall, Larry was on the radio. My first solid memory of him is listening to him call a Kevin Butler field goal kick, sitting in my Mom's red Caprice Classic station wagon, parked in the lots at the soccer fields across from the water tower, waiting for my soccer game in pouring, freezing rain.

UGA passed on. Larry's retiring. I'm thinking it just ain't right if we don't win a title after all of this. And I'm thinking I'm not the only lifelong Bulldog shedding a tear right now.

Stop the Brat Coddling!

I really hate to judge people's parenting skills in writing on my blog (I totally prefer it on the phone with my sister while I kill a bottle of wine), but . . .well, let the judging begin.
If your child is screaming because she doesn't want to get in her car seat, and I am right next to you, waiting to put my child in her car seat, but can't because opening my door would bang in to your car door, please do not shush your child in a quiet, soothing, sweet voice, pleading with her to please calm down and climb in her seat like a big girl, as if you are talking her down off a fucking ledge. Please just put your child in the car seat, hold her down firmly while you strap her in, and ignore her cries of distress. I guarantee, she will not be harmed in the process.* In so doing, you just might show your daughter that she is not the center of the Goddamn universe, and I might might make it home before mine pisses in her pants.

If your son breaks into uncontrollable tears of terror when I ask him to please stop hitting the dog, he is not a "sensitive soul" he is a brat who has not heard the word "No" often enough.

And if your child thinks that my 4 BR, 2.5 BA house is "really small," then maybe it is your family's world view that is a bit on the small side.

*If the child turns blue, that means you might be pushing a little too firmly; ease up until she can breathe to cry again, then start over again with slightly less pressure.

So Far

For those of you who know me well, you know that I have had some serious misgivings about putting my kids in the local public schools. Not because I think the kids are terrible, or the teachers, or even the administration (although I do have my concerns). It is mostly because it seems like the teachers and administrators have no way of overcoming crappy parenting. However, T and I decided that we would put Rollie in pre-K at the elementary in our neighborhood and so I will probably have a series of posts in the next months and years concerning my first impressions of sending my child to public school.

Things that I like:

• The school gets a high rating on sites like great schools.net
• I think his teacher is a great person, who likes what she is doing.
• I LOVE how diverse the school is - Rollie is not a white kid in a sea of white faces, or even a sea of black and white only. Think Benneton kids.
• Parental involvement is high.

Things that I'm Not Liking, or Am Just Downright Bewildered By

• The people responsible for teaching my kid have sent home numerous memos with grammatical and spelling errors. This does not engender confidence.
• My kid has learned all sorts of semi-frightening phrases, like "Die" and "Kill." I realize this has little to do with the school, and everything to do with hanging out with other kids who have older siblings. It is still disturbing. (Or maybe he reads my blog and Facebook.)
• We went to a PTA picnic and the local fire and police departments were there. They fingerprinted my kids and gave us a digital photo in a little packet. We are supposed to include DNA and dental records in this also, and keep it "in case of emergency." There is no sicker feeling than watching your 2-year old getting fingerprinted so that they will have a better chance of identifying her in case of "emergency." The kids thought it was fun, but what about the older kids who realized what it was for? What does that say about the way we view our world and the message we are giving our children about our worldview?
  
• The school sent home a sheet in my five year old's backpack, which i am supposed to discuss with my child and then have him sign. He can barely write his own name, and I am supposed to discuss Saying No to Drugs with him? That's great and all, but I'm not doing it. My kid doesn't even know what drugs are. I am not going to introduce it to him at just five years of age either. You know what I think I might do? Parent him. As in, keep enough of an eye on him that someone giving him drugs probably won't be an issue until at least, oh, Kindergarten.
• One day in the carpool line, I discussed the program my son is in with another parent I met recently. Her son had the same teacher last year. I asked her what she thought about the class and the teacher, and her reply was, "We really liked Mrs.______. Bobby loved going everyday. Just don't expect him to learn anything." Ummmmm. . . seriously?

Just some things I've been thinking (read: Worrying and Stewing) about recently. Thought i would share. This parenting thing is, as I've mentioned before, fucking hard.

What Do You Want to Happen By the End of the Day?

My friend Matt shared this link on Facebook, and wow, I am glad he did. It is nice to wake up in the morning and have something shake you up a little, and make you think about whether today is going to happen to you, or you are going to happen to today.


Fifty People, One Question: Restored from Benjamin Reece on Vimeo.

My answer: I wish that at the end of the day, everyone in the world would be true to themselves, to who and what they truly are; That we would all be comfortable in our own skin, and respectful of what other people are, too.

And of course . . . world peace.

Love, Love, Love

I heart Ifixit.com. Antenna seated properly now.

Woohoo!

Also love Jason, the Belkin support guy in India, who made my mac address dealio go away.

Look at me go, with my four bars and all.

Help a Girl Out

I need prom dresses. Old ones but that I can fit into (large sizes). I think i am going to have to put the pics up on Dogwood Girl and let people vote on which I should wear. Fun!

Come on, people. Help me out here.

Love,
Zombie Dogwood Girl

Hats Off to Some Fine Football Writing (and Go Ahead and Revoke My Girl Card)

Yes, i am a girl, and Yes, I turned down an invitation to see Wicked with my girlfriends (and Rollie and Tiller's Aunt T) because it might interfere with football. And yes, revoke my girl card now, because i spend approximately 4 hours or so a week reading about football online.

My fave sites are:

The brilliant Every Day Should Be Saturday (EDSBS), even though it's run by Gators.
Georgia Sports Blog - I'm pretty sure Paul Westerdawg is both a Bulldog fan and a Replacements fan, and let's be honest, those are pretty few and far between. I am so down with that.
Hey, Jenny Slater. A bulldawg stuck in B'ham, I believe. Anyway this guy is freakin' hysterical.

The best part about these folks is that they shatter the whole "SEC fans are dumbasses" belief. These kids is s-m-a-r-t. And hell, EDSBS even has a girl writing for'em.

So, all of this is to spotlight a post by Doug at Hey, Jenny Slater, which is just about the most brilliant and beautiful post I've seen in ages.

I teared up a little when i read it.

Here's The Deal

Remember when they asked who wants to be room mom, and everyone sat around trying not to make eye contact with anyone else? And then one person had already signed up for it, but she wasn't there, and they still needed another person, and the teacher looked right at us and said, "Which one of you is going to do this? Sign right there?"

And we stared at each other until i sighed and signed on the dotted line.

And that, that was the point where you gave up your right to bitch about how disorganized the classroom is this year.

Also? I am not apologizing for coming across as conceited when I said i was worried about my kid not being challenged enough. I am proud that my kid can read, and I was just being honest about my concerns.

One last thing: Todd is taking wagers on when I will lose it and either a) be excommunicated from PTA and asked to step down as room mother or b) yell fuck the PTA and quit.

I am betting right around the Halloween party.

Experimentation

It wasn't pretty, but it was a W. I'll take it. Go Dawgs!

We had some friends over for the games yesterday and the whole thing kind of snowballed and we ended up with a before-unmet number of children running around. Scarlett and Dash were here, as usual, but then we added in Sheilah's kids, and four of the neighborhood kids and their parents. I think we had nine kids at one point. Plus their parents and some childless friends, adn wow, was it a full house. Sheilah was nice enough to bring an extra TV so the kids could watch a movie upstairs. (Not that tv-watching ever happens like that. It just blares in the background, and it never fails that one poor kid wants to watch, and then cries because everyone else won't be quiet.) And once Garrett and Kayla left and Nolan fell asleep, Rollie ended up being the only boy with five girls. A dearth of riches, for sure, what with the twins, and an older girl, and only one of the females his sister. Everyone knows what this means: Rollie Makeover. (Thanks to Lauren for getting the shot.) And yes, I am aware that we are racking up the photos of Rollie in drag. See, if he ends up going that way, we were cool with it from the beginning, and if he doesn't, we have some great blackmail photos for his teen years.

We are parenting Gods.

More of story unfolded, though, this morning. As Todd and I readied our coffee and the kids ate breakfast, the following discussion occurred:

Todd: Rollie, did I hear that you held hands with T__*? (Tiller had ratted him out a few minutes earlier.)
Rollie: [playing with his cereal]. Yeah. She kissed me.
Todd and I glance at each other.
Rollie: She kissed me a lot.
Todd and I stare at Rollie, mouths gaping open, then glance again at one another and both turn away from the breakfast table, laughing silently, shoulders shaking with the effort at holding the sound in.

Maybe there is no need to worry about the drag pictures, after all. Or, maybe we should be extremely worried about our very adventurous young hero. Maybe he's going to like to experiment.

I joke, but i don't know if I'm ready for all of this. Rewind, rewind! Rewind, Dammit!

It's not working.

*All names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

Lemonade Out of Lemons

Okay, so my friend Tori, who is one of my favorite babysitters, a girl I like to drink with at Flatiron, and a great trivia team member all rolled into one has fallen on some hard times this year. What does a girl do when the work world gives her lemons? Well, she makes lemonade, of course! So, if you can help her out in her endeavor, that would be awesome. You won't regret it.

From Tori herself:

Hey there!

If you're still in Atlanta or any surrounding areas, I would like to pick up some of your most tedious, menial or just plain weird or grossest odd-jobs from here until the end of the year.

I'd hoped I can pick up at least one odd job a day or a few a week - and chronicle what I'm doing for all to see on a blog. The weirder the job, the better. I'd also hoped that I could make an average of $20.00 a day (or more) between now and the end of the year. Hire me...I'll do just about anything as long as its legal...and spread the word. I've got references, I've got time and I know you have something you've been dreading to do. Forward this message to your friends, too! Take me to the limit!

As you may know, I work as a freelance writer, designer, and in the film/tel. industry. I'm also the daughter of a pecan farmer, so I'm no stranger to manual labor. I'm down with alphabetizing, filing, cleaning, organizing, scanning photos, grooming your dog (I groom mine), reading a newspaper to Grandma, or changing adult diapers, for that matter. And let's face it, I'm a big'un, so I could stand to lose a few pounds in the process.

Why am I doing this? I guess you could say that the industry's been rough on me this year, so I wanted to try a little experiment - a somewhat down-and-out 27 year-old's take on the good old-fashioned lemonade stand entrepreneur. And, of course, I want it to be funny. Really funny, so that's why I'm hoping you'll have something bizarre for me to do. But I'm trying to make dough, too...so anything is negotiable.

I'm kinda excited about this idea. So hit me with your odd jobs!!! I'll start asap!

Thanks!
Tori LaConsay
770.608.7891
torilaconsay@gmail.com

I Pray

Seven years later, and I am still amazed that it ever happened. It seems like it was just yesterday, and yet another century somehow. I wonder at the fact that I am responsible for two little lives that will never know what it was like to live in the world before that horrific day, and for whom the knowledge of an event of such magnitude will always be conceivable. My children will never know what it is like to live in the thought that it will never happen here. I know that the person I was on September 10, 2001 was not the same person who finally fell into fitful sleep late on September 11, 2001. But I'm pretty sure none of us were; A pebble was tossed into the pond that day, creating something that will touch us all, in one way or another, sooner or later.

Me and T, before

Me, pregnant with Rollie, after

I am still touched by the way our country banded together in those first few days, and I still have hope that we will be that way again. Sometimes I still have that hope.

My thoughts and prayers today are with the many, many families who were affected by the tragedy of 9/11, the ones who can't say that everyone they loved came out unscathed that day.

Yes, Annelle, I pray!!

I just don't know to whom I'm praying.

Lullaby Medley

Lullaby Medley
Originally uploaded by Dogwood Girl

Tiller's rendition of our three favorite night time songs, as performed this morning on the basement hearth. These are the three songs that she refers to as "Bitsy," "Sunshine," and "Twinkle."

BREAKING NEWS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Any of my peeps who work at Turner: I wanna know who the fuckwad is whose job it is to decide when to use the term "Breaking News." Breaking News used to just be for things like Tornado Warnings, Presidential Assassination, and terrorist attacks. Then along came 9/11 and now every bit of news that "breaks" is breaking news, in bold type and all caps. I'm sorry, but you idiots just left a story about the Presidential election to give me BREAKING NEWS about Lance Armstrong coming out of retirement.

This is a guy who rides a bike. Seriously? Do we really look that stupid? Stop insulting my intelligence and wasting my time. I do that just fine on my own with Facebook.

Anybody Wanna Give Me $179?

If I had a spare $179 lying around, this would be totally cool.

!Outlander Graphic Novel!

So anyone who knows me or reads Dogwood Girl knows that I seriously heart Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series of books. You know the Twilight series? I was pretty addicted. I am ten times more addicted to Outlander than Twilight, and these are actually smart and well-written!

Well, it seems that Gabaldon is doing an Outlander graphic novel, loosely following events in the first book, Outlander, but from Murtagh's point of view. Love me some Murtagh! First of all, holy crap. Second of all, this guy is doing the illustrations, and he looks like a great artist. It comes out next year, and so does the next Outlander series book, An Echo In The Bone. Not only that, but Echo won't be the last. Praise sweet Jesus on a pogo stick!

I just can't wait to see what his interpretation of Jamie will be. Or Black Jack for that matter. It's like a train wreck. I want so badly for it to be good, but I'm scared to look, but I can't not look. You can see some early Claire illustrations here.

Bulldawg Bounce

This is just plain funny. Not great, but fun. Go Dawgs!



HT to Pecanne Log, whom i don't know, but read pretty regularly.

Awkward

In an ongoing attempt to publicly humiliate myself, I give you one of my top five most embarrassing photos of all time.


Feathered hair, which just doesn't work on curly hair, and straight-haired moms just don't understand that. Nice sweater vest. Nice upturned collar. Nice braces. Egads. . .

At least in the outtakes below, I went ahead and laughed at myself. I am sure everyone else was laughing at me. It is just painful, and in a million years, I will never forget how much those three years sucked ass.

I triple dog dare you to try and come up with a worse photo.

First Day of School

I realized on Tuesday morning, as I got Tiller ready to go to her first day at the new school, that we almost forgot to take any pictures. I really wanted to never forget to take pictures of her, what with her being the second child and all. So, we rushed around, and took a picture and a snippet of video, and then the memory card was full, even though there was seemingly nothing on it, and then Todd spent a half hour figuring out the problem, and Gee, isn't it great that technology makes our life so much easier.

Anyway, here is the video and a pic of the Tills. Notice that she is holding her new tote bag. Her school doesn't allow backpacks. At first, I was about to get all riled up, like they were worried that her bag might contain a handgun, and the tote would make it easier for Security to check her bag while they were frisking her for bodily weapons, but alas, it seems that it just makes it easier to slip her artwork in and out. Which i get. So, instead of buying their stupid ten dollar churchy bag (you want my kid to advertise for your church, you better give her an endorsement deal), I bought her the cute Target one with the record player on it. Take that, bitches!

Cat's Eye

I was going to blog about Tiller and the importance of her first day of school, and all that jazz. Then Jason B. sent me his yearbook photo from Yearbook Yourself (who knew Jason could look like John Denver?), and obviously, some things just pre-empt previously planned posts.

I give you my yearbook photo, 1960:


Yeah, if I didn't have Eagle Eyes, I am pretty sure I would try to rock the Cat's Eyes. . .

Rollie's Fifth Birthday

So, I already did the sappy letter post, but here's the fun stuff! We had Rollie's party at the pool. Not a lot of folks could make it, since it was a holiday weekend, but we had fun anyway!

Lightning McQueen cake, which had to be fixed when they put "Happy Birthday, Bollie" on it.

The boy eating cake.

Aunt Lisa and Baby Dash

The Chef and Chef Senior (a.k.a. My Favorite Father-in-law)

Paul, Rollie, Tills, and Gabriel

Virginia chats with Harmony and Paul, which Chase hangs.

Grandma tries to hog Luci during my Luci time.

Tiller and Rollie

Me and Luci

Me and Mama

Birthday boy in the pool, looking happy.

Me and Tills in the pool.

Happy birthday, buddy. We love you!