I confess I don’t get this stream of consciousness blogging that seems to be in vogue these days. The most conspicuous example would be Kevin Smith, on whose blog you’ll find detailed descriptions of what he ate, when he and his wife got jiggy, and what shorts he was wearing while watching the last disk of Season 1 of The Closer. Etc. etc. etc. I suppose these are the naturally exhibitionist type people anyway, made digital, but that level of sharing gives me the heebie jeebies.Not that I don’t love my five readers, because I clearly do.
That said, what a weekend! The Girl’s soccer game Saturday morning was moderately exciting. We have a wiry little bastard on the team this year, who is clearly the reincarnation of Pelé. (Yes, I know he’s not dead yet.) This little boy typically scores multiple goals while the other team is still waking up, which if you’re a bunch of under-8 year olds can be quite demoralizing. The Girl did not get to score a goal this game but she’s becoming quite the defender, totally unafraid to scrum with the other kids and block shots. It helps, I’m sure, that she’s a full head taller than all the rest of them. I swear the thought of her teenage years is keeping me awake at night. She’s going to be built like a brick shithouse.
Do any other parents worry about how frickin’ gorgeous their daughter is going to be or is it just us? I mean usually you worry about schoolwork, grades, getting them to brush their dang teeth. I phear when she finally decides boys are a good thing. *shudder*
After the soccer game, the grandparents absconded with the kids, leaving the Husband and I free until Sunday. So what did we do? I coded and he mowed the front yard. We’re old. Well, actually, the footyball game was coming on at noon-thirty so we had a limited window. And what an exciting game it was. Well, until that horseshit, anyway. Nobody likes a sore loser, boys.
The third quarter was particularly exciting, wherein two people previously described as “old” acted like teenagers with their parents out for the night. Well, teenagers with an advanced knowledge of Latin…
Almost twelve years we’ve been married and we’re still…er, hot for each other.
After the game we dragged ourselves together and ventured into Tampa to the ridiculously named Crazy Buffet. I was having a major sushi jones, you see, and this seemed the best way to satisfy it…they have multiple sushi chefs behind a horseshoe-shaped bar, constantly rolling, slicing and putting out tray after tray of fishy goodness. Much raw fish was consumed and all was well with the world.
Well, until Sunday morning. I do not recall what that particular nigiri was actually labeled…it was a whitefish, and had a nice flavor. It apparently was escolar, though, which has some unfortunate side effects…
Sunday saw the cooking of a massive pork roast with a cider-and-apple-butter-based glaze. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Well, it ain’t, so you’ll forgive me if I do not pass along that recipe. Number one, with any piece of pork that big (anything over 1 inch thick…this roast was over 6lbs), you absolutely MUST brine it. With the slimming down of American pigs, there is just not enough fat in pork these days to keep a roast juicy. Sure, it was fork-tender and fell apart on the plate, but if the texture is dry in the mouth, how is that a good thing? So, brining is just going to be the rule from now on (excellent pork brine recipe here).
Also did some pan fried green beans with garlic, soy sauce, balsamic vinegar and a little bit of white sugar. Those were TASTY, let me tell you, just don’t overcook!
Afterwards, when we wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and pass into a carb coma, we had to drive all the hell back down to Nana’s house to pick up the Boy’s glasses. If it kills me the Boy will learn to keep track of those damned things. Naturally on the way down we had to stop at Bruster’s for some milkshakes. And would it kill those people to hire more than two teenagers? I think 20 minutes for six milkshakes is a tad long to wait, even for their spectacular ice cream. That said, if we were ever insane enough to want to run a franchise of some kind, this one would be very near the top of the list.
Afterwards, back home and shoved the kids into the pool to work off their sugar rush. We actively restrict sweets, they have no desserts on school nights, and we’ve seen a great improvement in their behavior because of this. But when they do have sugar, they are absolutely NUTSO. Makes me wonder, are we causing this nutso behavior by excising sugar from their diets (except that contained in the morning cereal/muffins) on every other day?
It’s hard being a parent.
Sunday evening saw the kids to bed, and the parents veg-ing on the couch, catching up on Scrubs re-runs. Sucks we’ve only just now discovered the show and this is it’s last season. Please, please, please, in the name of all that’s hole-y, can someone make JD grow the hell up??
I don’t know about you people, but I vote for a three day work week. There’s SO another work-bitching post on the way, and it’s only 11AM on a frigging Monday.