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?

I suck at putting 2 and 2 together

Just a couple days ago, ShankRabbit and I were praising the brilliance of Alton Brown while enjoying his Praline Bacon. I decided to drink a glass of orange juice to balance the guilt of not eating anything else for breakfast. Maybe I had a half piece of toast...I don't know...I can't remember anything past the BROWN SUGAR AND PECAN-CRUSTED BACON! Seriously! Go make it now!

Anyway, that's not what this post is about. I just get a little carried away by bacon. Mmmmm...bacon....

So, my stomach felt a little funny later in the day. Knowing that my grease intake may have been a little more than usual, I made sure my food choices were much healthier after that.

Next day, enjoyed a small glass of OJ with my breakfast. Same funny stomach feeling. "Oooh, so maybe it's the orange juice." ShankRabbit is not having any problems with it, so I know it must be me (really...orange juice is doing me in?! Whatever!).

We visit our local Sam's Club later in the day and spend a fortune save money on our necessities. One of our purchases? Emergen-C. A family go-to for hangovers keeping our immune systems in tip-top shape. If you've never heard of it, all you need to know for the sake of this story is that it's like drinking a bazillion glasses of orange juice. That's a direct calculation.

I find this stuff quite yummy, so I prepare a couple glasses for myself and ShankRabbit before he hops on a plane to attend a fantastically geeky conference with some coworkers.

All is well (or so I thought). This morning, my throat felt scratchy. Not wanting to succumb to sickness while the hubby is away, I down a glass of Emergen-C with my breakfast.

If you haven't been keeping track, I now have over 2 bazillion glasses of OJ in my system.

Now let's talk about what my digestive system must have been thinking. The first glass of OJ was like a little kid tapping on her shoulder saying "mom mom mom MOM MOM MAMA!" repeatedly. She gets irritated. The second glass of OJ - same situation, a little more irritated. The 2 bazillion glasses of OJ is like a country full of 2 year olds- in dire teething pain - trying to get her attention in the same way but adding a little screaming, wailing, and tugging on her shirt. She was having none of that and unleashed her ultimate fury.

You are smarter than I, dear reader. I'm sure you would have figured this out after glass two. I didn't figure this out until about an hour ago, when my digestive system said "hey numbskull...DON'T DRINK ORANGE JUICE! CAPICHE?!"


Yep. I get it now. Thanks for the punch in the face.

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.


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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.

Miscellaneous Monday

(how often do you see the word "miscellaneous" spelled out in its entirety? Not often enough, I say!)


1. We are awaiting the arrival of our best friends' baby. B had to be induced...so here is to hoping things go smoothly. ShankRabbit left his cell phone (a fancy schmancy new Blackberry Storm) turned up last night, so every time it made a sound, I jumped up thinking, "BABY?!"

1b. I also got one of those fancy schmancy phones (thank you, buy one get one free!). I *heart* it so far.

2. I spent a good portion of yesterday in a cleaning frenzy. Unfortunately, all of my hard work only resulted in getting two rooms done - Peanut's bedroom and the kitchen. That's what I get for wanting to scrub the floors on my hands and knees.

3. Supplies were purchased for growing our own herbs (basil, cilantro, chives, oregano). We wanted to get it all set up last night, but had to wait until Peanut was in bed. Since we had the soil, we decided to re-pot our houseplants as well. It was too dark and chilly outside for my taste, so I thought it would be a good idea to work in the kitchen. You know, on the floor I scrubbed.

I am a bright one, I am (I blame the margaritas).

Random Tuesday

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

* * * * *

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.

A short, late Thursday post

For 5 minutes, I was a prisoner in my own sweatshirt. I've had this article of clothing for at least 5 years now, so you'd think I'd be well-versed in removing it.

Because the bungee cord-like elastic closure at the bottom got caught on our banister twice today (recoiling me into the wall both times), the knot was WAY too tight to undo. A claustrophobic panic began to set in, causing me to sweat (the original reason I was taking of the darned sweatshirt in the first place!) and ran through a billion ideas of how to get it off without destroying it. Plan A was using my teeth to pry the knot open. Plan B was to call ShankRabbit at work in tears.

Fortunately, Plan A worked.


Don't tell my dentist.

It's all my fault - the long version

I'm admitting that it's my fault now so please don't say, "well, you have no one to blame but yourself." I get it...so let me whine, OK?

Let's start with Thursday night. I put Peanut directly into her jammies after dinner. I normally don't do this, but I thought since she SOAKED her day clothes with water during dinner and it's so close to bedtime, why find a new outfit to wear?
(this will be important later...remember this)

I'm getting Peanut to sleep and I put a binky in her mouth - a freshly rinsed one. For anyone that has rinsed a binky and put it into a baby's mouth knows that it makes a squishy noise (from a little water getting trapped inside the nipple). Peanut starts to squirm and wake up from this noise. I frantically find a new binky and settle back into the rocking chair with her - now our typical 10-15 minute bedtime routine is now a half hour.

I go to bed way later than normal. I'll blame the siren song of the internet and ShankRabbit for that one.

That brings us to Friday...

At 6:45am I hear wailing from the baby's room. It is way to early for her to be awake...so I go in there thinking the job will only require a replaced binky and some back rubbing. I look in her crib to find a HUGE wet spot on her bed. Remember the early pajama time? Well, I forgot to change her diaper before her final bottle of the night - hence the overflow.

I call in ShankRabbit to change out her bedding and make a new bottle (hoping the soothing warmth of a bottle will lull her back to sleep). I realize this is fruitless when she starts smiling and barking at me. She's awake, dang it all! I'll just take a nap when she does...yeeeeah right.

We go upstairs to our TV room and cuddle on the futon to watch some kid shows. She's done with "cuddle time" around 9am. We do breakfast and then play a bit. 12pm rolls around and she's rubbing her eyes heavily. She has to eat lunch before her nap since she has a tendency to sleep right through meal time. We do lunch, get cleaned up, and it's time for a nap!

She's 3/4 of the way through her bottle and it dawns on me - I didn't change her diaper AGAIN! Seriously...where are my brain cells?! Instead of having a repeat of this morning, I decide to change her after the bottle. Oh great...she's sleeping. What do you think happens once I expose her girl parts to the cold room air - I'M AWAKE!

I try soothing her any way I can. I even leave her in her crib (praying that she'll lay her head down). For a while, everything is quiet...then I hear the binky tapping on the crib. Then her head. Then a cry. Then the binky, then her head...I think you can guess what's next.

I was upstairs listening to her over the monitor, so I decide to go save her before she knocks herself out. Once I hit the kitchen, I'm overwhelmed with the smell of crap. I sniff the garbage disposal, the garbage can...nothing. It's not until I give up searching and reach Peanut's room that I find the source.

I've heard of a sound barrier before, but never a smell barrier. I crossed the line between the bathroom and her room and about died. No wonder she wasn't trying to sleep...she had a diaper full!

I clean her up and try to get her to sleep. Giving up, we go back to playing. She so tired she's sitting up, with a blanket to her face, rocking back and forth. I try this nap thing again. Success! Now my turn, I lay down and I'm just about to enter the world of rainbows and flowers and sunshine when....WAAAAAAAAAAAH!

20 minutes. That's all she had to give.

Fast forward several hours and here we are. It's midnight and I'm still awake. Why, you ask? Because I like to torture myself, obviously.

The new hair

We have successfully located our battery charger. Therefore, I can show you the promised "new hair" photos.

We attended a friend's wedding on Saturday. My brother-in-law and his wife were watching Peanut for us while we partied like rock stars (or at least made an attempt):



A lot of fun was had. A lot a lot.

And I can tell you one thing for certain (as pointed out today by a friend who also attended): we are not 21 anymore.

Food and projects (not food projects)

I am incapable of making a box of macaroni and cheese and not eating it all in one sitting. I feel overfull after I'm done, but I do it every time. You'd think I'd learn. Someday I'll tell you all about how I can't wait for things to cool down before I eat them.
Though my food behaviors would tell you otherwise, I am a human...not a puppy.

* * * * *

I completed another project over the weekend. I'm really proud of myself because I started it on Saturday and was done this morning...with TWO of the same thing. I know, I know...who is this and what have I done with Isabella?!

I was under a deadline. Our landlord (also one of ShankRabbit's coworkers) and his wife are having twin girls. She is due this week! I only found out about it on Wednesday, so I can honestly say I didn't procrastinate on this one.

I have a couple more items to add to the gift, so I won't post pictures until the gift is ready to go out the door...but it will be by tomorrow at the latest.

OK, I'm off to lie in a mac 'n cheese-induced food coma on the floor with my child. Have a great Monday!

I'm a weakling

Things to know:
1) It was unusually warm yesterday (in the low 40s)
2) Instead of the usual snowfall this time of year, we got rainfall
3) Typical to the midwest, the temperature rapidly dropped down to the teens last night and into the single digits this morning (negative degrees if you count windchill)

What does this have to do with me being a weakling? Well, let's put it this way...

Imagine you are in your house. Sipping a warm cup of coffee, staring out at your backyard admiring the bright crispness of the morning. You notice your neighbor heading out to her garage to get her car. She puts the key in the door lock and turns the knob. Nothing. She appears to check the doorknob to make sure it was actually unlocked...tries to open it again. You smirk as you think, "silly woman...doesn't she know her door is frozen shut?"
She proceeds to ram her shoulder into the door like a pee-wee football player against an NFL defensive tackle. She eventually gives up and heads back inside. About a minute later, you notice your neighbor's husband come out to assess the situation. He checks the lock, gives the door a nudge with his shoulder, pops it open, and shakes his head as he returns inside.


What a great morning.