When saving money on a store brand was not worth it

This post was in no way dramatized. These are real events, real thoughts, real action.

Some things that must be said:

1. I adore the CrockPot Lady's recipes - Rotisserie Style Chicken is one of my favorites.
2. I have the memory span of a goldfish.
3. I don't cook very often.

Ok, now that those are established, let's continue with the story...

The first time I made this chicken recipe, I bought a Purdue brand whole chicken. Skinning the chicken was gross and cringe-inducing, but I made it through (the CrockPot Lady recommends this step. It takes a while, but it's worth it).
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Fast forward to a week ago. While perusing the meat section in our grocery store, I saw whole chicken on sale and thought, "man, I could really go for some of that rotisserie style chicken again." It was store brand, but I thought that wouldn't matter. Oh man, was I ever wrong.

Now, on to last Friday. Peanut just went down for a nap and I had a cutting board, the chicken, and a sharp knife at the ready.

I open up the plastic and remove the little goodie bag of gizzards from the inside. I double-checked to make sure there was nothing else in there. I happened upon an appendage of some sort. I freed it from its enclosure and mentally screamed (the kid is sleeping, remember),
"EWWW! This chicken has a penis!"

I quickly surmised that this was, in fact, the neck (that'd be one hung chicken, I tell ya...)

Now, how do I go about removing the neck? With the Purdue chicken, this was removed for me and neatly placed in the gizzard bag. I've never encountered this problem before. Due to my hands being saturated in raw chicken grossness, I couldn't turn to my trusty intarwebz for instruction. So, I guessed and cut off what I thought was appropriate.

Back to skinning...

It was pretty routine at this point, though I found this chicken to have quite a bit more junk in the trunk fat than the Purdue chicken.

Once I was close to done, I decided to look the chicken over and be sure it was pretty clean. I glanced on the inside toward the bottom (which could have been the top at this point...who knows) and I noticed a section of darkness. Another gasp and internal screaming, "this chicken still has ORGANS attached? SERIOUSLY?!"* Again, the Purdue chicken had this removed.

I just wanted to be done. I wasn't sure how to get rid of said organs, so I completely cut that part out - spine and all. In my flurry of cutting, I nicked my finger with the knife (no surprise there). A minuscule cut, but it still hurt.

Now I really went into panic mode. I'm furiously trying to be done with this gawdforsaken chicken and now I have salmonella coursing through my veins via the cut on my finger!**

I scrubbed my hands no less than 3 times with antibacterial soap, threw on a temporary band-aid, and got to work on the seasoning. After throwing the bird into the Crock Pot, I cleaned up and hopped into a scalding hot shower (because at the time that made total sense). Though not before sending the following text message to ShankRabbit:

I went all Silence of the Lambs on the whole chicken. You can't unsee what I have seen. ((shudder)) Time for a hot shower...or cigarette...or both.

When all was said and done, I had 3 sections of chicken left - the breast/wings/remainder of back and two thigh/leg sections. It may have been in pieces, but the chicken still tasted just as good as the last time I made it.

Let's hope I remember all this the next time I get a craving for rotisserie chicken.
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* I did a little online searching and found out these still-attached organs were its kidneys. Ewwww.
** I'm a wee bit dramatic in situations like this. Can you tell?

Random Wednesday

The past few weeks have been...life.
I don't know how else to describe them other that. There have been ups (how can you not enjoy a perfect sunny day?), there have been downs...but that's life. You know?

* * * * *
I woke up this morning to the wonderful sounds of Peanut who, upon seeing me round the corner, took out her binky just long enough to sign for "food." A whole banana, a piece of toast, and half a bowl of cereal (adult-size...as this was originally my breakfast) later, she was finally full. A mere 2 hours later, she wanted a snack. Hmm...can we say growth spurt?

* * * * *
I wrote up a post about someone I was not very happy with...but in the end, decided not to publish it (I'm certainly glad I got it out...even if no one will read it). Since I don't want to leave you wondering who is ruffling my feathers (it's not an easy feat), I will share this little bit with my readers...
My father's side of the family INVENTED manipulation and guilt trips. I can hear one comin' a mile away. So, if your intention is to have me emotionally check-out with you and doubt your words/actions, then by all means...send one my way. I'll point to center field and knock it out of the park every time.

* * * * *
I had very painful deja-vu this morning. I was just sitting on our couch, sipping my coffee, watching Sesame Street with Peanut when I shifted my position ever-so-slightly - resulting in throwing out my neck/back. Again. Same time of day, same situation, same debilitating pain.

* * * * *
To all the people getting ready for BlogHer: I wish everyone good weather and safe travels.

I spoke too soon

How many times have you said or thought:

I spoke too soon...

Situations like this happen WAY too often for me.

Case in point: I posted a picture on Twitter of my wrist brace with the statement "how I spell relief" (old repetitive motion injury + caring for 2 children yesterday = P.A.I.N.). I was sitting in our TV room thinking how wonderful this new wrist brace is and how I am feeling pretty good today (even with a crappy night of sleep). And here is where the phrase comes in...

because at that very moment, after merely shifting my position on the couch, I wrenched my neck so bad that I crumbled to the floor. The pain began at the base of my skull and radiated down my arm (of course the same one with the wrist brace on it...because the wrist issue wasn't enough already).

After the tears subsided a couple minutes, I called the "King of All Remedies" (also known as ShankRabbit) and asked him what I should do to fix this. He gave me a list of things to do and told me to call him if it doesn't get any better.

So here I sit - well-stretched, medicated, hydrated, 'vitamined' with a heating pad on my neck.

And I'm going to keep my mouth shut.


____________________________

And this footnote is for the brother-in-law: please shower your wife with thanks from me. The homemade heating pad she gave me for Christmas is my new best friend.

Random Tuesday

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

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As I've said many times before, Peanut loves to dance. The following video was on Sesame Street today:

Courtesy of DanceJam.com

If I was able to get a good video of her dancing to this, I would post it...but as true with any other situation, when you finally have the camera out, the video-worthy stuff stops. Just try to picture a 1 year old doing her version of stepping. Friggin' hilarious.

* * * * *

I found that I have a lot of moments where I don't put 2 and 2 together. Seriously.
For instance, when someone would offer me mayo for my burger, I'd make a face and turn my nose up at it. It didn't occur to me that the burgers I enjoy from fast food restaurants have mayo on them. Once this fact finally penetrated my feeble brain (read: a few weeks ago), I started adding mayo to my burgers. Man, is it yummy.

* * * * *

We have added another item to the "things I cannot touch around the house" list: super glue.
Long story short - our iron has a crack in its plastic shell (preventing the proper use of the steam and self-clean options). Instead of using epoxy like ShankRabbit suggested, I tried super glue. Let's just say I was more successful at gluing the iron to my finger than fixing the problem.

Note to other super glue users: keep acetone nail polish remover on hand.

* * * * *

We are going to be a one-car family soon. If you haven't read ShankRabbit's post yet (if you don't read his blog yet, you should. Get over there now!), we decided to sell his 2005 MINI Cooper S. Very bittersweet for all of us.

Today was a test run of us driving him to work. All was good until he said goodbye and walked into his office building. Peanut is used to daddy leaving the house for work, not watching him walk into a building. I had a very sad baby on my hands...until she located her binky and her stuffed monkey. Only if sad moments were as easily managed as an adult.

Random #20

I've decided not to give my Random posts a name other than "Random #[insert current number here]"...because when the fancy strikes me, it's never on the day I schedule. I am assigning the arbitrary number of 20, because I don't want to go back and count what actual random day we are on. So, # 20 here we go:

* * * * *
I think I should start with a confession. I've had two beers. An amount that typically has no effect on me, but tonight (as I am writing this on Tuesday night. Don't worry, I'm not a morning boozer) I feel like I've consumed a whole bottle of wine...and a few shots. Let the par-tay begin!

* * * * *
This past winter, we had to move around our living room furniture to accommodate our Christmas tree. This meant the TV stand (with receiver, record player, CD player, and Wii) collected dust in a corner of our tiny bedroom...until now. Today I moved it back to the living room - but that meant I had to move the big couch, the little couch, and the ridiculously heavy coffee table (I think it was originally intended for a Wookie frat house). And since Peanut's birthday party is a mere 11 days away, I figured the crap collecting desk dining room table could go to the basement now. Though, I'm saving that big project for when ShankRabbit can help. Peanut doesn't know how to dial 911 just yet.

* * * * *
I made a kick-butt pork roast today.
*looks to see what part of the pig a pork roast comes from...after 5 minutes of searching, realizes it said "shoulder" on the packaging. Saddened I cannot make intended butt / rump joke*
And because I like you, here is the recipe (I would love to give credit where credit is due, but I can't remember where it came from):

Plagiarism Pork Roast
1 pork roast (4-5 pounds)
1 garlic clove, halved lengthwise
salt
pepper
1/4 c. maple syrup
1/4 c. brown sugar
1 Tbsp corn starch
1 Tbsp Dijon mustard (I used what I had on hand: Jack Daniels horseradish mustard)
*optional* about a 1/4 tsp of Sriracha...because we put it on practically everything in our house.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Rub roast with garlic and discard the clove halves when done. Sprinkle salt and pepper over roast. Put on rack and bake for 2 hours (this is where I got creative with a metal wok rack and a Pyrex baking dish. Worked great!). Mix rest of ingredients together and cover the roast with it. Bake for an additional 30-45 minutes or until the internal temperature reads 155 degrees. Let rest 10 minutes before slicing. Supposedly serves 6 (bahahaha...more like 3-4).

For feeling like I'm buzzin' I did an AMAZING job at recalling all the details of this recipe with no visual assistance.
I better re-read this tomorrow and make sure I didn't just give you a recipe for a shepherd's pie truffle. Or feet.


* * * * *
I use the oven a lot. You'd think with all the baking and cooking I do, I'd remember to preheat the darn thing - especially when the first direction is always "preheat the oven to..."
I forget every time.

* * * * *
ShankRabbit is at his desk, playing a computer game. I stretch and without missing a beat he says, "SOOOO BIG!"
Can you tell we have a kid?

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Leave a comment on Code Monkey Daddy's blog to enter the "Song About You" contest. No purchase necessary.

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Dance Party Time!
(Have no idea what I'm referring to?...read the bottom of this post)

Artist/Band: New Radicals
Song Title: You Get What You Give
Kid-friendly?: Sorta...there is one swear at the end of the song

Fatherhood Friday: Can't Touch This

Visit Dad-Blogs to get more information on Fatherhood Friday. Great group of people - dads and moms alike!

I believe in equality in the household. ShankRabbit usually takes the garbage to the curb, but it's not "his job." I typically put Peanut down at night, but ShankRabbit would do it in a heartbeat.

However, there are certain things I'm just not allowed to do. As you will see by my list, I was put on "limited use" or completely banned from certain things because of my stupidity and/or lack of self-control. Observe:

1. Using the garbage disposal - more specifically, putting potato peels in the garbage disposal. ShankRabbit had to use a pipe snake (or whatever that thing is called) and disconnect the plumbing in an attempt to repair it. It eventually had to be replaced. Now, I throw away 99.9% of food items. I can't take that chance again.

2. Handling the food processor blade - I have managed to slice open my hand not once, but twice, on this evil device. I still haven't figured out how to separate the blade from the white plastic stand without cutting myself. Right now, it is either a) wait for ShankRabbit to do it or b) put on a pair of thick oven mitts and hope for the best. I had a minor panic attack when I found out that the pesto I made the other night required the use of the food processor. Maybe if I learned to chop stuff up like Yan Can Cook I could avoid this appliance.


(Side note: if you ever want to make cheapo-bulk-buy frozen chicken breast taste absolutely esquisite, stuff it with a Neufchatel cheese/basil pesto mixture and bake it. Oh. My. God.)

3. Rice Krispies Cereal - I'm not banned from eating it, just opening the package. Apparently, I have no finesse. I find pouring the cereal from a shredded bag and half-torn box to be a fun challenge - will it go in the bowl or all over the floor?! Oh, the suspense!

4. Making my own cup of coffee - I am fully capable of pouring the coffee and adding sugar and milk...it is the ratio of such items that I fail at every time. I cannot walk away with a decent cup of coffee until I've adjusted said ratio at least 4 times - and by that time, it's cold. As a trade for making me the perfect cup of coffee, I painstakingly prepare ShankRabbit's coffee (black, in a mug).

5. Going to Target with money - I think when Peanut was born, the crack dealers Target higher-ups implanted a microchip in me that prevents leaving the premises without walking through the entire store...and finding things that I NEED from the clearance rack in the baby section. Or the office supplies/stationary section. Or the dollar section.

6. Visiting WebMD - ShankRabbit suggested I add this one. I don't know why. WebMD is the only place that confirms my fears about the plethora of life-threatening illnesses I have. He should be thankful that I'm still alive and fighting the good fight.

You're right

ShankRabbit used to be the type of person who never liked to admit when he was wrong. In the early part of our courtship whenever I was right, he'd never say, "you're right." Instead, he'd opt not to say anything at all. He has gotten much better about this - even going as far as saying, "you're right honey."
I dare to say I may have been the same way...but, moving on...

Peanut's first birthday is on the 19th of April. We are planning a small* get-together the day before for close friends and family. Our house isn't equipt to accommodate everyone we'd like to invite, so I suggested renting our church's banquet space for the party. ShankRabbit was confident we could do it at home. I disagreed.

Fast forward to yesterday. I had several days to think about his idea and I came to the conclusion that he was right. We'd have to move some of our furniture to the basement and borrow chairs from people, but other than that - we could do it. And with the money we'd save, we could use it for more food and decorations.

So, I hopped on gmail and we had the following conversation:
me: So...I've been thinking
Shankrabbit: uh oh
me: We should have the birthday party at home
Shankrabbit: um
whoa
OK
hold on
Let me ask you something
What were you wearing when i proposed to you?
me: We could move the dining room table out and replace that with seating...(borrow chairs from others if we need to)...
Oh...uh, bears sweatshirt, guard sweatshirt, jeans, cowboy hat**
Why?
Shankrabbit: Just want to make sure it's you
and not... some crazy possessed version of you
'cause I'm pretty sure you are asking me if my idea was good
me: I'm not asking...I'm telling
I've really had time to think about it
And if it's not nice out, we can still accommodate a good amount of peeps in the house
Shankrabbit: Yeah... see
This is going to take like 5 minutes to sink in
'cause
it just makes so much sense
and... I'm not used to you making sense
me: Hey now!
Shankrabbit: And I'd be glad to help you now that all my ideas can come in to play too
me: Well, there go all my ideas and half my brain cells! (I just smacked my head into the ceiling). Owie!***
Shankrabbit: Since... you know... all my ideas were based on us at home. Ooouch. I'm sorry.
me: OK, butthead...I get it! You rock! You have the BEST. IDEAS. EVER. Bow down to the almighty SHANKRABBIT!
Shankrabbit: thank you.

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* "small" used to mean 8-10 people to us. But since Peanut was born, we've added more people to our close circle. Now, a "small" party is about 25 - give or take a few.
** I'm sure you're very curious why I was wearing this particular outfit. This requires a post all its own.
*** We have slanted ceilings in our upstairs area...I smack my head on it quite often.

Random Friday

It's time for another random Friday installment -

Mystery bruises
You know...you find a bruise and say, "huh...I wonder how I got that one."
One foolproof way to figure out where a mystery bruise came from - hit it on the same thing that you did in the first place. My example? The windowsill in our bedroom. Ow.

Food is for eating
Peanut loves to blow raspberries...while she's eating. In fact, she will do this as soon as she gets a mouthful of food. It's even better when the spoon hasn't left her lips yet - giving her ample ammo for a 1 foot radius of sprayed food. When I am the one feeding her, it's annoying, but as a spectator, it's so darn cute.