Beth at the Natural Mommy is hosting a recipe swap

I give you my recipe for Punt Soup.

Why Punt you ask?

You know those days that nothing goes as planned and you need to dream up some dinner that doesn’t require a take out box? What do you do? You Punt. Hence, Punt Soup. If the Punt Soup is too thick, it becomes Punt Casserole. Punt is very forgiving.

(I took pictures, but it’s been one of those Punt kind of days around here so just words will have to do.)

This recipe is like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure Books. Tends to also work better when you don’t really have an expectation of how it’s going to taste when you are done.

Step One -

Put a pot on the stove, throw some garlic and some oil or butter into it and set to medium low. (We eat garlic with everything but chocolate around here so this may not be for you.)

Step Two -

Search around for something to be the base of the soup – chicken broth (homemade, canned, boxed), beef broth (ditto), veggie broth, bullion cubes, Lipton soup mixes. Any of that will do. You can add wine or beer if you want to. (Warning – I once used red wine and turned my broccoli cheese soup pink.)

Step Three -

Are you putting meat in it? Scavenge for meat if needed, throw in microwave to thaw or cook. Could try cooked egg or tofu if you are looking for protein but no meat.

Step Four -

Do you want creamy soup? Grab some milk or some cheese. Set it aside and wait for the soup to be warm. Add once everything in there is more or less warm but NOT boiling. Boiling makes a weird texture – which, it’s Punt, you can tell the fam that you meant to make it that way, it’s all good.

Step Five -

Add some starch – rice, quinoa, wild rice, brown rice, pasta, potato – you can tell I like my starch.

Step Six -

Some flavor – can of green chilis, some tomato paste, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, whatever spices you can get your hands on in the cabinet.

Step Seven -

Veggies. Scavenge, add some stuff. You really can’t go wrong. Well. Except I’m not a huge veggie fan so I usually skip this part.

Gradually add stuff to the pot, let it warm, walk away and ignore it. Hope for the best. Taste tests along the way can help. Rarely is Punt a complete failure, it is sometimes merely food and nothing great. But sometimes you can surprise yourself and find yourself going “WHAT did I put in this, it’s the yum!”

Now, I’m a snob. I know this. I like good clothes, good shoes and good house stuff. However, even I, Snobby Snobberson can appreciate the whole “necessity is the mother of invention” concept when it comes to decorating.

Take this, for example:

This is our project of the weekend, putting shelves on the newly painted wall across the bed in our room. Now, here’s more or less how it would have broken down if I’d have gone to P0ttery Barn and had my way with the store, rubbing myself and my credit card up against everything I could get my hands on:

Ledge (2) = $110

Picture Frame Black (3) = $56

Silver Picture Frame Mattless (2) = $58

Silver Picture Frame Matted (1) $89

Vases (5) = $60

Total = $373

Here’s how my Cheap@$$ design breaks down:

Ledge (2) = $17 (originally 29.99, 40% off, and the cashier messed up and only rang one of them up)

Picture Frame Black (3) = $27.47

Silver Picture Frame Mattless (2) = already owned both of them, I don’t know how much the actual silver cost, the 8 x 10 is a clip frame from Pier 0ne that would have been around 5 bucks, so we’ll say $10 total.

Silver Picture Frame Matted (1) = already owned this one as well, I got it from someone for my college graduation, it’s one of those frames from H@llmark where you get the autographs on it, mine was autographed, but I have friends who write things like “Penis, Ballsac” on things and it’s not so much something to display in my grown up home. (Yeah, there’s a story to Penis, Ballsac, another day, another day.) It was originally a 4 x 6 but I recut the mat to be 5 x 7, flipped it over so you only see the white, and done. Original price 19.99 (sticker was still on it, cuz the person who gave it to me – classy like that.)

Vases (5) – we used them at our wedding, so we already had them. Original price was a buck each, so total = $5

My total = $62.46 (which 19.99 was a gift so really only $42.47 as compared to $373 s0 – SCORE!)

Now, I would LOVE to have a perfectly decorated house right now. I would love to have a big tree that smells wonderful, and the halls to be deck and boughs of holly, and beautiful Christmas cards that I made myself, and a stack of perfect presents for Scout and Alex … and yes, for me … I’d love everything to be coordinated and putting Martha Stewart and the mother of Red – Soon to be Mrs. Tater to shame.

But, I also love not having migraines, I also love not having a credit card balance for the first time in 11 years, I love having two vehicles paid off, I love knowing that I didn’t kill a tree just to look at it for a month and then have to vacuum the needles off the floor. (Hotfessional will totally understand.)

Who am I kidding? I don’t do the vacuuming in this house.

(That bit of honesty is so Scout will continue to love me.)

A couple of years ago, we decided to not put up our big tree. We didn’t have room for it and we decided we’d rather not spent a month cussing that the tree was taking up space in our living room. Scout went out and bought an 18 inch silver prelit tree, and I perversely love it more than any other tree I have ever had. We decided this year, even though we have the room, that it would just be easier to not be pulling the Kaiser out of the tree – so we again are using tiny tree. (I’ll post a picture at some point, but right now the tree is sitting on a builtin with a bunch of DVDs around it – and while I’m working on not being all clenched about perfection – I would like you to think I can keep a somewhat pretty home – hahahaha.)

Otherwise, decorating will be simple – we’ll get the decorations all in one place (they are scattered through the house because of weird labeling while we were moving – a whole other story) – we will get them up – and we won’t spend any more money on decorations this year. Okay – other than the 6 dollars spent on stocking hangers.

Tell me, are you a minimalist at Christmas or do you all out decorate? Are you happy with your choice?

So, it’s that time of year where everyone thinks about overindulgence. We’ve made it through Black Friday, we’re in the full swing of gift giving holidays. We have neighbors who have holiday crap that has apparently thrown up on their lawn, so covered in decorations it is.

I’ve been loving Unplug Your Kids, even more than usual because she’s been talking about holiday madness and she echoes a lot of how I feel about things. However, she’s way cooler and already at the point of knowing how to make some changes whereas I’m still sitting here going “huh… I’d like to make a change … but first … PIE!”

I grew up between two homes. At Christmas time, we got the gigantic Christmas catalogs and sat down and made lists of what we wanted. The tree was always real, the presents were always piled high. Even if my step-mom had busted her ass getting everything wrapped the night before, for us to just rip apart and throw away bags of paper a few hours later. It was always a Big Deal with presents and such.

My mom’s house was different. We never had a real tree, we had a Norfolk Pine that we’d decorate with little ornaments, and once that tree died after having it for several years, she decorated the mother in law tongue plant. She never asked me what I wanted for Christmas, there were never stacks of presents, I once got to open one present early – and that was my winter coat that I needed to be able to leave the house when we’d gotten a lot of snow.

With the exception of a couple of years, I liked the smaller Christmas much much better.

Now that I’m “the mom” I feel like I’m responsible for Alex growing up with good memories and traditions. Not that Scout doesn’t feel responsible, I just ponder this kind of stuff more than he does.

So, for the next little while, I know I’m going to be talking about the idea of “enough” in my life. I promise it’ll be random I know you aren’t surprised.

I learned that when you start with a lot of squash…

and pumpkins… and sweet potatoes…

and you put them on the grill to cook…

that when you use the blender to make the puree…

and you need to stop the blender and shift the pieces in the blender…

wait till the blades stop moving before you stick a knife in the blender…

Seriously…

Okay, so yesterday I talked about my weird ass issues with my hands and hand washing. I’ve used the homemade sanitizer for a fews days now and I really like it. The consistency is relatively the same as the stuff you would buy, the lavender does smell nice and works with the alcohol, rather than competing with it. I’m assuming my hands are marginally cleaner than they were before – and I can pronounce everything in the bottle. I like that too.

I have it on good authority that Jennifer has the crack source for good soap.

So. I’ve told you one weird thing about me this week. Here comes another.

Not a fan of vegetables.

I totally understand that they are, like, good for you and stuff. But … ick. There are three in particular that I appreciate how pretty they are, but just don’t care to eat them.

I’ll give you three guesses.

Yeah, I know. Tomato is a fruit. I just realized that – but anyway.

Scout is mystified that I don’t care for those three foods, but I’ll eat salsa and spaghetti sauce.

I used the stuff in the picture above and made 3 small batches of salsa – two are in the freezer and one is being eaten. Yum.

Next crazy thing – I hate knives. That’s not exactly true. I’m excessively scared of getting cut by a knife. (Same goes for heights – heights don’t scare me – falling from them does. Flying doesn’t scare me – blowing up does.)

This knife thing makes cooking a bit of a chore. So I’ve learned to be as efficient as possible with it.

See the criss cross pattern cut into the whole onion?

Then I cut it off into the smaller pieces.

Betty F. Crocker in the house, I swear.

Oh, except she probably wouldn’t decide that using the oil and basil out of the mozzarella that she’d already inhaled was just what the sauce needed. Julia would though, oh Julia would.

Mmm. Pretty.

I took all of that and threw it in the blender (gradually) with enough water to let it mix together.

Then I went all crazy and made meatballs.

From SCRATCH. Good grief.

Perhaps I need to work on my plating skills next…..

So, all good cooks know that clean hands are a must for pre food touching. All good mommies know that clean hands are a must – just because they are a must.

Here’s a little tidbit about me:

I dee-test the feeling of my hands after they have had soap on them. They feel dry and sandpapery, and they catch on things and ick! ew! And with the heinous nail biting habit, I really don’t need any more gross going on with my hands.

One of my only memories of preschool is being made to wash my hands under water that felt way too hot on my hands. (Teacher wasn’t mean, I just have a low heat tolerance on my skin.)

So – I need clean hands – I hate soap and I hate hot water. Have to do something.

But wait, I also appreciate alcohol.

DIY found a way to mix these things together.

Now, since I’m a champ at taking the Kaiser on sketchy shopping trips, it was only fitting that we went to buy grain alcohol with babe in arms. Nothing says class like babies and 190 proof likker. I should have just bought a tin of Skoal and been done with my image busting for the year.

I decided to use the grain alcohol instead of the vodka from the DIY recipe because 1) higher proof and 2) didn’t want to be tempted to drink hand sanitizer.

I arranged my ingredients.

I mixed (no photo)

I refilled an old hand sanitizer bottle (reuse, reduce, recycle, have sex!), and put the spare in the fridge for later.

This was just the beginning of Martha F. Stewart coming to town.

(Ten Steps for Creating Breast Health)

Okay, so the theme of this week is getting chosen by me.

And only because it’s timely.

And SHOCKING.

SHOCKING

Betty Friggin’ Crocker possessed our bodies. I don’t know wtf happened. I’m still reeling. One minute Scout was waving around his man-squash

And the next, our refrigerator looked like this

This week, I’ll tell ya’ll about this demon possession.

(Ten Steps for Creating Breast Health)

I’ve had that little bit of swag over in the sidebar for a month or so now, I found it over at Doodaddy and thought this would be a nice change from my normal rant about boobs and lack of sleep.

Blog Action Day this year is focusing on the environment, and unless you are totally a no impact person, living under a rock, without access to any kind of media, you have run across something that mentions psst… the environment… perhaps we need to change our ways just a smidge.

It’s overwhelming, all the things we could think about. I decided that I can’t focus on it all. So my focus in my house, for the next year is to go back to the original “reuse, reduce, recycle” mantra. And it’s for a very worthy cause.

Top Ten Ways Reducing Trash Will Get Me More Sex

10. Less fast food = less trash = weight loss = sex

9. Less Starbucks = less trash = more money for lingerie (that I’ll look good in b/c of #10.) = sex

8. Less time shopping for things we don’t really need = less trash = more free time = sex

7. Cloth diapers = no rotting disposables sitting around the house = nice smelling house = makes candles work better for setting mood = sex

6. Fresh fruit = no trash = more energy = sex

5. Less trash = more freedom for Kaiser to play in the other room = sex

4. Less trash to landfills = less landfills = more outdoors = more places to have sex

3. Less packaged food = less trash = better health = longer life = more time for… sex

2. Less trash in car = clean car = less time spent cleaning car = more time for sex

1. Less trash Scout has to take out = happy Scout = sex

(Ten Steps for Creating Breast Health)

Ninety two years ago today, you were born.

I have known the details of your life, but it’s only as I get older that I really start to understand you. To me, you were always, “Grandma” and you lived with a determination and a work ethic that made me believe you were born with grey hair and that hard work was what you did for fun.

When you were nine you had polio. You were a little girl and you were so sick. You recovered, but it left you with a limp and one foot smaller than the other. You never complained about the ugly, low heeled, lace up shoes you had to wear, but when we buried you, Mom put a pair of high heeled sandals by your feet so you could dance your way into heaven.

When you were sixteen, you met Grandpa. I was almost 16 the first time I saw the two of you kiss. You always slept in separate rooms as long as I knew you. But that one kiss showed me a different side. Then I learned that so many years ago, the two of you were so smitten with each other that you giggled when you were in the same room together.

You were 35 when your mom died. 35. I can’t even imagine not having my mom when I’m a young mother.

You had cancer. You had a mastectomy. Your body was invaded twice by disease, and twice you won.

You fought your body your entire life. You dieted it to a size that made you tolerate it. I doubt you ever loved it.

You decided you wanted to see more of the world than your tiny midwest town – you took tours to Canada, Alaska and Hawaii. I was mad you were in Hawaii on my birthday. I still have the photo of you in a lei with “that naked man.” (ed Hawaiian dude without a shirt qualified as “naked”)

Grandpa got weaker and weaker, and you cared for him. You never let him go into nursing care. You both knew he wouldn’t live without you. Every time he went in the hospital, you stayed with him. Except that last night… but you still were there when he died. Your partner for 60 years, your husband for 55. You stood by his side, and watched him die. When Mom and I walked into the ICU room and met you, you didn’t cry, you looked me in the eye, you patted my face and said, “You were his idol.” Then the three of us, Grandmother, Mother and Daughter, stood by his bed together. And then we took you home.

It was while you cared for him .. while you kept track of his medicine, cooked his food, cleaned his …. everything … that I found the words you’d copied and taped to the back of the cabinet door. Where the glasses were. The door you would open three times a day while you were prepping meals.
“Lord, I know that nothing will happen today, that you and I can’t handle together.”

Grandma, everything I need to know about faith, you taught me with those handwritten words. Every year I understand a little more the effort it must have taken to keep that faith. You didn’t have an easy life. You didn’t have a dignified death. Your body failed, and then your mind.

I remember you this way.

The older I get, the more I see you in my eyes. Thank you for that gift. Thank you for being my Grandma. I miss you always.

Love,

Dawn

It wasn’t the graduate degree, the husband, the signing my name to a big ass mortgage or the baby. Not even the social security card.

Nope.

It was this.

Now. I know. Most of you are like, huh? what? Big deal.

Oh but just let me tell you.

I get skeeved out by:

1) touching raw meat

2) “bad bites” of food (you know, when you bite into something and there’s something… odd in it…. oh God, my mouth just watered a little bit…. not in a good way)

3) chicken skin

4) the feel of anything slimy

So the idea of dumping a chicken into a bunch of water, boiling it, dismantling it, and then using the byproduct to cook from – never on my list of things to do.

Then my SIL Mrs. Deacon sent me a recipe for Chicken Soup and got all braggy about her mad domestic goddess skillz. (Actually, untrue, her comment was, “Ah, where did the undomesticated Mrs. Deacon go? We like her better …”)

Then I was in the grocery store and they had chicken broth on sale for 3 bucks instead of 3.50. I reached out to get some knowing I already had 3 at home, but chicken broth is one of those things I always need.

I paused. 3 bucks? And for a container I couldn’t recycle?

The time had come.

So today I put the bird in the slow cooker along with onion and carrot. I let it cook. I tore that mofo apart, by hand. I did not gag once. I now have 4 containers of chicken soup starter and 2 containers of straight broth.

I am domestic. I am eco friendly. I am cheap.

I have become my grandmother.

Except I’m pretty sure she never said ‘mofo’.