Finally pulled the (circa 1972) Crock Pot out of storage and made some pea soup. Start with about 16oz of dried peas, rinsed and sorted...
Brown some sausage (8oz?16oz? up to you) Chop up 1 onion, 2 ribs of celery, 3 carrots...
Add about 30oz of broth, a bay leaf (and your favorite soup fixins-pepper, chili flakes, etc) and cook on low for many many hours. My recipe said 4 to5, but it was really more like nine!
Monday, May 3, 2010
READ THIS: the following post contains WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION. You have been warned.
Before I had a child I wondered, would I be a good (enough) mom? I had never bathed a child, dressed a child, or more importantly ever changed a diaper. I am, shall we say, squeamish? Whenever a not-so-sweet odor would begin to emanate from my otherwise sweet cousins, I would hand the child back to my aunt, smile politely and back away slowly making excuses to the tune of "Oh pardon me, I have to go feed my nonexistent fish, wash my hair and be on time for my root canal, buh-bye."
While pregnant (read: about to change a diaper whether I was ready to or not... and soon, very soon!) I confessed my fears to everyone who would listen. Everyone reassured me that once it was my own child it would be different. That I would bravely step up to the plate and look fear in the face, (or the derrière). And I believed them, even though all evidence pointed to the contrary. Compelling evidence. Such as running away when I went to the bathroom and summoning my husband in the horrific event that the toilet was clogged. But I believed everyone...
Well guess what? Everyone LIED.
Obviously not changing baby's diaper is not an option once said baby is here, and poopy, and hollerin, so you do what you have to do. But diapers are one thing and now that I am a parent I know there is an even scarier thing than changing a diaper. What is it you wonder? Well let's just say that up until now I had been spared and my cooperative and sensible child had not committed this oh foul of foulest atrocities.
But last night we were taking a bath (oh yeah I warned you!) and I said to hubby "oh cute she made bubbles" translation- farted in the bath. He didn't miss a beat and responded "you better hope that's all she did." At first I didn't understand. I naively looked at him and thought to myself "what else could she have done?' But I did not remain naive for long because my darling girl, looked up at me, grinned and pooped in the bathtub! At first I froze then I took control of myself, yelled at husband to get off the floor where he was rolling around and laughing his a$$ off to take the bewildered baby and proceeded to get the hell out of there..and into the shower for the rest of the night (or exactly two and a half minutes because of course once bathed, baby must be fed.)
Okay seriously folks this parenting thing is not for the faint of heart.
Because I'm sure you don't actually want me to post a photo of any of this, please enjoy a freshly bathed and non poopy baby picture.