Recipe: Broccoli Cheddar Chowder

Recipe: Broccoli Cheddar Chowder

Broccoli Cheddar Chowder

Ingredients
1 lb. fresh broccoli, cooked until just tender
1/4 cup butter
1 medium onion, finely chopped 
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup flour
4 cups whole milk
1 cup chicken broth
1 1/2 tsp salt
2 cups grated cheddar cheese

Chop cooked broccoli and set aside. Saute chopped onions in 1/4 cup butter until tender; set aside. In a large soup pot, prepare a white sauce: melt the 1/2 cup butter over medium heat, stir in the flour until well blended. Gradually stir in milk, chicken broth, and salt. Stir constantly until mixture reaches a boil. Cook 1 to 2 minutes, until thickened. Add broccoli and onion. Stir in cheese. Cook briefly over medium heat. Avoid bringing to a boil. Serve immeditealy or keep warm over low heat. 


Yields 6 to 8 servings.

 

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A "spoiled" one year running tradition.

A "spoiled" one year running tradition.

**Disclaimer: I will post a photo album of the pictures from the holiday to be viewed in the Photos section.

I should back up a bit to about a week and a half before Christmas.

I received a Christmas card in the mail from my grandparents with a gift card for Nugget. I decided I'd better call to thank them for the gesture. Two hours later and some wicked tear shed, I was prepared to reach out. 

The last time I saw my dad was at Nugget's 1st birthday party. In February. i.e. 10 months ago. 

Even before receiving the prompting of his mother to "continue with your efforts so when he passes away, at least you'll know you tried to have a relationship with him" (A little morbid. That's my grandmother. Honest.), I had made attempts to meet up for lunch, dinner, just because to no avail.

I sent him a text message that my Crackberry seems to have deleted so I can't quite recite it verbatim like I'd hoped to. It was something along the lines of, "What are your plans for Christmas?"

I heard back from him three days later with Christmas Eve dinner.

I heard back from him December 23rd that dinner would be at 5pm.

We packed ourselves up in the car to make our way an hour and a half south for dinner at my dad's. 

The evening was far from awkward (it usually is pretty brutal), the food was delicious, and Nugget got an amazing inflatable, mesh, circus themed, ball pit thingamajig that will be perfect for future timeouts. It's like our own little toddler cage. Not to mention the inspiration for his 2nd birthday party. Circus. I'll be posting like crazy with all the preparations. Oh balls, it's only five and a half weeks away!

Christmas Eve/My Birthday celebration (only 5 months late). 

Not as painfully dreadful as it could have been.

Being our own family entity for the past two years, I decided that we needed to start a tradition.

I dubbed Christmas Eve the night we exchange brand new Christmas jammies and Husfriend amended the proposal with the addition of a quirky ornament exchange to the jammies. I also said that we'd trade off who bought Nugget's jammies so it wasn't always up to one or the other. Monetarily fair as well I suppose.

After returning from my dad's we opened our jammies and ornaments.

Then I cried.

It's not that I'm an ungrateful gift getter*, it's just that I have a "set idea" when it comes to tradition. 

Christmas jammies = CHRISTMAS jammies.

Bless Husfriend's heart for putting up with me and my ridiculousness. I think the irrational crying spawned from the lack thereof from Christmas at my dad's. I had prepared for that portion of Christmas Eve to be the emotionally distraught part. The pent up angst had to go somewhere, right?

It was bedtime and Nugget was anything but tired. I'll attribute that to the cracked out chocolate chip cookies he had at Grandpa's. Husfriend decided to sleep downstairs with him and his night terrors, bringing Nugget upstairs early in the morning to let Santa deliver all the presents. 

Then 3am rolled around...

*My Christmas Eve jammies are the softest, most comfy things in the whole world...as far as lounge wear goes.

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Blissfully Unaware

Blissfully Unaware

It could be confirmed as the cause of my severe anxiety.

General Idiotic Tendencies.

I can't seem to wrap my head around being blissfully unaware of your surroundings when functioning in society.

I admit that there are times when I am overly aware of my surroundings. See: Nosy Ass. In the awareness of my surroundings, I have realized the continued need for my nosiness. Sometimes, I could potentially be in danger or will be questioned by authorities as a reliable source witness. I will keep eaves dropping until the day I die. Let's be honest, that could be soon if I nose my way into the wrong "situation".

Back to the point here. Maybe it's my, I dunno, constant coherent state, but I can sense when someone is "closing in" on me. Other people, apparently do not possess this trait and fail to realize where they are standing (at the top of an escalator in Macy's) or that there are two adults and a toddler fast approaching. There was, I kid you not, a man that was turned to the side, peripherals in range of identifying the approaching group, and still, even after aforementioned group stepped off the escalator, failed to pivot/move/flinch. I couldn't believe it. I was a bitch and muttered something condescendingly snarky, just loud enough for him to FINALLY take notice of us sucking it in to squeeze behind him.

Hasn't he ever seen that episode of Rescue 911 where the little boys jacket got caught at the top of the escalator and strangled him?!

I have!

My shoelaces (had I been wearing lace-up shoes) could have very easily been snagged, resulting in the loss of my left foot. Hello?! McFly?!

How terrifying for Nugget to have experienced that nightmare for the rest of his life? He would be horrifically scarred.

The symptoms of GIT are in full force when shopping.

I admit. I'm guilty of mosey-ing when I've got nowhere to be, but...BUT there's a complete difference between being a casual shopper and being just plain ignorant. When I am casual in the shopforce, I make it a point to be even more aware of people in a hurry.

It isn't until I give a complete stranger a flat tire before they realize, "Oh, silly me! There are other people in the world."

You don't even want to get me started on people with unruly children, *cough cough* in the grocery store *cough cough* in the guh-hetto. That one is deserving of its own post. After the holidays, because 1) it will rile me up and I have neither the time nor energy between gift wrapping and stirring caramel corn for extra riling and 2) regardless of my countless disclaimers, someone out there in the blogosphere will count it as racist and no one wants a racist for Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza/Festivus.

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Love isn't always on time.

Love isn't always on time.

Nugget knows how to rock.

Sorry for the poor video quality. Crackberry's were not designed for HD playback. I've gotta start carrying my all-in-one around more often.

OR

Dear Santa...

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Love for Anissa Project

Love for Anissa Project

If you don't know who Anissa Mayhew, she's a bewbilicious broad to be reckoned with.

Something got the balls to reckon with her. A stroke.

She's fighting hard core, in true Anissa fashion. Her darling husband, Peter is updating the world on her progress here. Please take a few minutes to get to know this family. It'll be anything but regretful.

Megan from Undomestic Diva  and Adrienne from Adrienne's House organized a project to send to the hospital. We're hoping, as a community of lovers, to rally her strength and humor to persevere through this ugly madness.

Please share the love and help however you can:

You can purchase a Team Anissa tee in which all proceeds benefit the Mayhew family.
There's always the fast-tracked assistance by donating money.

Love for Anissa! from Undomestic Diva on Vimeo.

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Christmas E-Cards

Christmas E-Cards

To all of my lovely readers:

My initial attempt at a printable Christmas card to the family & friends across the country:

The print quality was HORRIBLE leaving a funky yellow border around anything that was red/pink...i.e. the wording and Santa.

So keep your eyes on your mailboxes for this little beauty in your cards:

Because as vain as Husfriend and I might be, we know you only really want to see Nugget.

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Living with Lindsay's Book Wreath

Living with Lindsay's Book Wreath

I am always intrigued by DIY decor on the cheap.

Living with Lindsay is a great blog to follow for her Teach Me Tuesday feature.

If you are a crafter and have not seen this beautiful wreath made of book pages, you must be living under a rock!

The second I saw the tutorial, Nugget and I were packed up in the car and headed to the dollar store. For two bucks, I had my goodies for the project. Okay, it was really five bucks because 1) I have this thing about having double what a project calls for and 2) apparently have a fluourescent pink "SUCKER" stamp across my forehead so Nugget got himself a Mickey Mouse Clubhouse puzzle for being patient.

This collection of appropriate materials and project commencement took place a month-ish ago.

Among so many other things, I am also very distracted focused.

So here are my materials, times two:

Then I played around with how I wanted to roll/wave/ruffle my book pages:

And when I was all done, I hung it up on my not-for-much-longer-chimney:

**You're not alone. I can totally see the holes here too. Don't make me feel dumb.

How poofy and fabulous does it look above my darling, and economical, clock from Real Deals?!

There isn't much time left to display the thing in our current home* but I had hyped making it so much on Twitter that there was no way I could finish it and then wait three whole weeks to compile a post.

Is it just me or are you as OCD about getting a project up the second you finish?

*P.S. We are moving back to my hometown on the weekend of January 8th. 3 weeks, 2 days, and 23.1 miles until total crafting domination with Rosemary Watson. You've officially been warned.

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Hey, honey! Grab me a beer will ya?

Hey, honey! Grab me a beer will ya?

The part of growing up where you get a car and move into your "own" place was a different experience for me.

Up until I reached the ripe young age of fifteen, when driver's permits and waiting anxiously in line at the MVD for my awkward and rather unsightly license photo to be taken, I was forced to sit back and watch as my older sister learned all about cars from my dad.

Mom is a hoot to ride with. By hoot, I obviously mean, it is highly probable my anxiety spawns from growing up with her style of driving.

"Mom, the garage door isn't all the way up." In unison. Times three. Dolby Digital could have sponsored the statement. CRASH!

'Nuff said. (You know I love you Mom!)

Wait, wait, this is good. Just one more.

She's lucky she is a real life grandma now. You're welcome for the "excuse".

Where was I going with this? Oh, right. My car savvy.

I took it upon myself to research cars as an *NSYNC loving obsessed teeny-bopper, about to be at the helm of a large piece of transport machinery. Oh praise be unto the owner's manual for our Chevy conversion van that toted around the Bobcat Fiddlers and was somehow given the name "The Party Bus". Mauve interior. Again, 'nuff said.

All of this nonsensical back story just to brag about my manly accomplishment.

I successfully, diagnosed the spastic left turn signal indicator to Husfriend, purchased (with a greater knowledge of what type of bulb I needed than the AutoZone employee trying to scam assist me) and replaced the driver's side tail light on the truck.

A beer would be the perfect pat on the back.

But I'll settle for a manicure.

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I'm not cut out for the photography business.

I'm not cut out for the photography business.

I'm the furthest thing from a photographer.

I don't know how the different features of fancy pants photography equipment works.

I usually stick to the Auto setting.

However, I have discovered how shutter crazy I am.

213 photographs in under 2 hours.

I was the picture happy mom at Santa's Workshop yesterday.

To tide you over until I wade through the unnecessary excessive amount of pictures I took, here's the most attractive advertisement for graham crackers I've ever seen...if I do say so myself:

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Now accepting ad requests.

Now accepting ad requests.

Like any insane blogger out there, I'm now accepting advertisement requests for the ole blogarino.

Since I have been highly unsuccessful in captivating any of the popular ad networks to accept my crass, often chock full of shits and damns, not niche specific blog into their seemingly extensive world, I'm taking it upon myself to recruit my own.

Do I know what the hell I'm doing? Where to start? What to charge? How to recruit?

Nope.

I'm researching and researching (and also accepting any constructive criticisms for those of you bloggity blog friends of mine who WERE lucky enough to be accepted by a network) myself into oblivion.

This very well could have been the reason for my monumental, earth-shattering breakdown yesterday.

That or the fact that our one year old Christmas tree fell on my head. May he rest in peace. "He" because only a douchey, dude tree would maliciously attack a mother and her son while they were innocently eating their breakfast and enjoying some morning cartoons. Let us call him Barnaby. Screw you Barnaby! Peacefully, of course.

Soooooo...

If you're in cahoots with someone who sponsors posts or places ads on niche-less "mommy" blogger blogs, send them this-a-way.

But please, I beg of you, keep them classy because, contrary to popular belief (mostly reassured by yours truly) I do sort of have a soul.

Alright, go ahead. Point, laugh, scoff, scold, do your worst. I think I can handle it today.

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PF Chang's Rock'n'Roll Marathon: Vegas 2009

PF Chang's Rock'n'Roll Marathon: Vegas 2009

**Pace at the beginning of this post: 8:35 at Half marker.

About three hours ago, Husfriend heard the fire of the start gun and was off to destroy his second marathon in 2009.

A marathon I was originally supposed to be running with him. Well, not with him because for the singular week I trained to run this particular marathon, I was averaging an 11 minute mile. Watching the live results here his pace has improved at every race marker, starting, at a not too shabby, 8:54.

I am filled with pride and encouragement by this feat of his. It takes a certain level of commitment to run a marathon, let alone at such an incredible pace.

Back in January, I missed him crossing the finish line because he was just too fast. I called him my little Kenyan.

I'm going to challenge myself to start running more. Alright, alright, start running period.

I typically think running is a chore more than a leisurely activity. The health benefits of running far outweigh the laborious cons.

My major hang up about training: safety. I'm a mother now. I don't live in the greatest area of Phoenix* (please recall that one time when a scraggly, mess of a man tried to get into the truck when I was stopped at a red light...2 blocks from our house...at night!). I don't have a running buddy. see: Husfriend is Kenyan.

I absolutely loathe running on the treadmill now. I have a bad knee I jacked up back in high school. It may or may not have been during an early morning cheer practice with the weight training coach hopping in a figure eight. I also may or may not be all that proud of the injury. Update: NOT proud. Treadmills are relentless. They care less about the durability of your limbs and joints than a sweat shop owner cares about the children down in the factory. That a whole bunch of not caring.

If you're in the market for a good training challenge, let's do this! Together. Because I'm paranoid of the world and the crazy people therein.

**Pace at the end of this post: 8:36 at 16.8mi marker. See Shugg Run! (psst...that was our motto last year)

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Handmade Holiday: Fail

Handmade Holiday: Fail

Nugget is barricaded from the kitchen because he's a busy body, always loving to pull out the entire contents of the baking goods shelves in the pantry.

Ere go, he is not allowed to play with his magnets I bought him a week or two before installing a "No Toddler's Allowed Super Gate" between the living room and kitchen.

I am a nice, nice mommy wouldn't you say?!


Muahahaha!

I've been tooling around an idea in my head for a while about how to make a mock refrigerator door for him to spell inappropriate words with his wooden letters magnets by Melissa & Doug. He is my child after all.

While out at some thrift stores last week, I stumbled upon a good, sturdy backless picture frame for $6. I was pretty old school style with a speckled, robin's egg blue and gold color combo going on, but I knew slapping a coat or two of paint onto that bad boy would totally transform it into exactly what I was going for.

So I had my frame, I had my paint, all I needed was the magnet board. I debated buying a pack of those 12" square tiles at JoAnn's, but then I would have to figure out how to join them, trim them, find a coordinating fabric to cover the seams, and it was just going to be too much extra work. I craft often, but I'm also a lazy ass.

I turned to Jen over at Tatertots & Jello for some much needed advice in the right direction. Jen is super savvy and does a lot of work with burlap and...dun du du dahhhh...magnet boards. I sent her an email for her super, secret insider's tip on where to get the roll of sheet metal. Home Depot, roofing department. Score!

Even being the pseudo intelligent, great at following directions type I am, I bought the wrong thing. What metal ISN'T magnetic?!

Okay, so I passed all of my science classes by the skin of my teeth and opted out of college, but that doesn't mean that I should not have found what I was looking for. I'm going to finger partial blame on the Home Depot sales guy who looked at me like I had twelve heads when I asked him where rolls of sheet metal would be in the store. He probably didn't even know what I was talking about. I say so because he blurted out a sign of surprise when we came to the display in the roofing department.

$30 down the tube, because, naturally, anyone buying something they've never used before to craft/construct a specific project would test its magnetic strength after cutting the appropriate size for the frame.

Me = Queen of the Incompetent.

Here are the before and after of the project even though it's not technically finished until magnets stick to the damn thing.

 P.S. Jen email me with tips to save my sanity. :)

P.P.S. Anyone with tips on how to go about obtaining magnetic metal for this board, please share your expertise.

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