Turkey Burger and Polenta Catastrophe

I love polenta. Have you ever had polenta? If you make it just right it's positively heavenly. I have only made it 3 times in my life which is odd considering that I love to cook and cook often. However, seeing as Robb has decided he doesn't like it, I save it for those rare occasions when I eat without Robb. So many tasty treats go scarcely made in my household because of a man with no taste. Jab. Anyhow, the first time I cooked this delicious cornmeal mush it was perfect. I sauteed a bit of turkey burger seasoned with garlic, onions and salt. Then I boiled the polenta and when done I added mozzarella cheese and butter. Then I feasted and feasted.

The second time I made polenta I got a bit, well, arrogant and assumed that I remembered how to make the polenta. Well, for those of you that cook it you know that there are precise, easy though precise, directions that simply must be followed. For instance, rather than waiting for the water to boil I dumped in the cornmeal instantly. Then to my everlasting shame I used a nylon whisk in place of a wooden spoon. The polenta simply would not tolerate my missteps and decided to remain grainy and soupy. In a feeble attempt to thicken this cornmeal soup I added a whole bag of cheese and garlic powder. I had not added so much cheese the last time and the only garlic that had gone in the dish was in the turkey burger. It was still soupy and now stingingly garlicky. Shameful. It was barely (which truly means "not at all") edible.

Last night after I came home from a lovely visit with Liza and Bella (and some darn good pizza), I realized that I had left the turkey burger out to thaw so I had to cook it or it would go to waste. I figured if I did it right this time I could have it all week for lunch at work. I carefully read the instructions (instantly realizing how I ended up on the wrong path previously) and proceeded to make some darn good polenta. I sauteed the turkey burger and got the entire dish just right. As I had already eaten dinner I only sampled the goods before spreading it into a cake pan to allow it to cool before putting it into individual servings for lunch.

Feeling as though I had really accomplished something, I turned to Lainie and yelled "Yeah for Mommy". She in turn clapped for me. Lovely applause. It was time for her bath. I left this perfect dish on the counter and took Lainie into the bathroom for her bath. Suddenly, there was a great commotion. I ran out of the bathroom, Lainie on hip (in case you thought I actually left her unattended in a bathtub), and came to the kitchen to discover that Tank, my precious (I'm straining very hard to use that word right now considering I just ate a Meijer brand frozen entree of Swedish meatballs that the crappy microwave here in the office burnt) 85 pound dog, devoured my beautiful dish. Now, you may be saying, "Fool, why on earth did you leave it out for him?" Answer: "Because he never does that!" Only one time has he stood at the counter to eat something and it was a hot dog (which are irresistible to him like a moth to a flame).

So, my beautiful polenta which was perfectly made was devoured by a creature who finds HOT DOGS to be divine eating! Do you think he even chewed before swallowing or savored one ounce of the perfection of the polenta? Not a chance.

I've tried desperately to come up with a clever "Lesson Learned", but there isn't one. Just don't leave polenta for the dog. Boo!

Karaoke is Good for the Soul

I had the privilege this weekend of escorting my Bestie, Cara, around town for her birthday celebration, albeit 2 weeks late. Nonetheless, it was our night to shine, particularly hers, as we hit Appleby's for dinner and Margaritas (I was DD so did not participate in any consumption of Margs though they smelled deliciosa!) After some fine dining and conversation, we headed to a bar and grill for some karaoking (as well as some more Margs for CJ).

Now, it has to be known that there have been some areas of my life in recent months that have, let's just say, sucked. I know, it's not the kindest word to use but it certainly summarizes it to a tee. So, a night out with the BFF for "nuthin' but sum fun" was exactly what this battered soul needed (yes, again, dramatic license- get used to it!) So, there I sat amongst people who were letting it all go with the swig of a beer here, a swig of a Marg there, and I slowly became envious of their freedom to let it all go. Many a buzzed folk hounded me to sing (yeah, this is a bit of an exaggeration really- I wanted to anyway) but I kept thinking that the last time I karaokied I was not a wife or a mother or a saint (well, I'm only 2 out 3 of those now, but hey, according to Meat "two outta three ain't bad) and I was a bit fershnickered, enough so that I belted out "Picture" by Sheryl Crow and Kid Rock and then followed it with Eminem's "Lose Yourself". (Yes, I rapped. It was as good as could be expected from a white, usually wholesome, girl.)

So there I sat wishing I had the guts to get up and proudly sing one of the numerous songs I would practice in my car in case such an occasion arose. Then it finally hit me- I may not be intoxicated but the rest of the bar was! So, I agreed to sing "Heartbreak Hotel" by Elvis (whose long, lost love-child I may very well turn out to be). And you know what? I wasn't half bad. At least, according to those around me. It felt good. I mean, really good. There I stood, stone-cold sober, microphone in hand, belting out Heartbreak Hotel with complete abandon. I also sang "Suspicious Minds" while CJ and Lou sang back up and "Black" by Pearl Jam which was definitely not well thought through as it was entirely butchered, but oh well. I also sang "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and "Margaritaville" with CJ and her BF Greg (who I constantly remind may be the BF but that I'm the BFF and the extra "F" says it all). It was a good night.

Lessons learned- 1. If you want to sing karaoke but you're sober, remember- everyone else is drunk so what's the difference? and more importantly, 2. Karaoke really is good for the soul.

Lainie Lou

What can I say about Lainie Lou? Too much, really. Her name is actually Lorraine Catherine Ann. It's a mighty name and I can see at the small age of 9 months old, she can handle it. Lorraine for her paternal grandpa's mom. Catherine for her paternal grandma's mom. Ann after my mother's middle name and my great-grandma's first name. Big name fits her big personality. She will wear it well.

I have to say, although I'm not egotistical enough to think I'm actually the first to say it, I had no idea how much love you could have in a matter of seconds. The love of a mother is so incredibly different from any other love, I think the only way to truly understand it is to feel it. But that love didn't happen the moment they announced, "You have a girl!" (which I already knew-seriously!) I had anticipated this moment from the day they told me I was having a girl. But instead of love I was feeling dread.

I realize now that it was a combination of hormones and horrible discomfort from being so ginormously pregnant and swollen. I had a scheduled C-Section so there were no surprises, no fearful excitement of when my water might break or when I might feel that first twinge of labor. Nope. I bypassed it all. So, the night before we were scheduled to go in I remember not sleeping much (although in hindsight, I should have- the last possible night for restful sleep that I'd see for, well, ever). I paced in the bedroom, partially due to sleeplessness and slightly to do with the intense anger I was feeling in bed lying next to a man who was sleeping soundly without a care in the world. I looked at the empty bassinet thinking one thing- "What if I resent her because she is going to steal all of my sleep?" Isn't that horrible? But again, pain combined with those hormones equals a woman out of her mind.

So, back to the delivery- well operating- room. There she was in all her glory. Robb was the first to hold her as I was strapped down, arms spread wide open as I felt nothing from the chest down. I couldn't hold her. And truth be told- I wasn't sure I wanted to. Who was she anyway? I didn't know her. I was scared of her. Finally, the surgery was over and they took me back to my room where I held her in my arms for the first time. You'd think that this would be the moment where all of those mommy-feelings came flooding in and I was suddenly an expert on everything baby. Nope. Nada. I still didn't know her and I was still scared of her. Fortunately for my racing-in-terror heart, so many family and friends were there just waiting for their turn to hold the baby. I let them without complaint. I was just sure I was never going to feel like a mom and I'd never love her the way I was supposed to.

In the middle of the night, all visitors long gone and my husband sleeping soundlessly yet again, I hear the very thing I had been terrified of hearing as I lay in my hospital bed- the baby was crying. She was hungry. Now, I had committed myself to nursing for at least 3 weeks to give it a real chance. I called for a nurse to help me since, obviously, I had no experience with this. Only the nurse that came put one hand on her hip and sighed, exasperated by my call- "What do you need?!" she half yelled at me. "My baby is hungry and I need help with nursing her," I said in a most cowardly voice. "Well, I have other patients that need me so figure it out or I'll be back later." Yes, this is a true story. She was gone.

I looked over to the crying baby in her little cold plastic bassinet. I knew I had to try. So, I pulled it close enough to me that I could get her out (as I still wasn't allowed to stand or walk). I looked at her and said, "We're gonna have to figure this out together." Then, something magical happened- we did it! We figured it out on our own! It was that moment where I knew I was her mom and she was my baby. I felt like a mommy and a darn good one at that!

From that moment on the love in my heart for this precious baby has grown and grown. It is a love that would sacrifice anything without pause for anything she needs. It's a fierce and protective love and a soft, gentle love at the same time. After a long day at work, that little face smiling at me melts any stress I've felt.

Lainie Lou- the light of my life, the joy in my heart, the song in my step, and the stealer of my sleep (I'm happy to give it).

Just the Facts, M'am

So, as I endeavor to begin a blog so many ideas are running through this fast-paced mind of mine. For instance, will there be a movie made about my cooking experiences, like Julie and Julia? Will I become famous for my poetic parlay into the blogging realm? What should my first blog be about?

So, I think this should be an introduction of the woman and the madness that may follow. First and foremost, see, I'm a princess. No, no! It's totally true. After all, I'm a daughter of a king. In fact, I'm a daughter of THE KING. As daughter of kings go that makes me a bonafide princess.

Second, I'm a wife and mother (including a step-mom). Married for a bit over 2 years, I'm learning so much about the roller coaster that life can be through my marriage. There are ups that can be so exciting. There can be downs that seem really scary. But all in all, I'm learning and that's all one can hope for in life. I have two lovely step-daughters who probably don't quite know the extent of their loveliness. There's Emily who just turned 13 in every way a kid "turns 13". Teenagers- you have to feel sorry for them for we all know that 13 is just the beginning of a rough ride and transition into young adulthood. Emily's a very bright kid though and I have great hopes for her future. Then there's Bella who is getting ready to turn 6. Bella is the most energetic kid I've ever known. Bubbling over with life, this kid knows how to get the laughs, but get to the root of her and she really does have a good heart. She absolutely loves her sisters. (Being blessed with her in my life has also blessed me with a budding friendship with her mom- a very cool lady) Last, but certainly not least, is Lainie Lou. She has become the light in my heart. Nothing in this cold, cruel world (I'm taking some dramatic license here) could ever be so bad that would keep me from smiling every time I look at her little face. (I'm gonna blog about her at a later date or this posting will get insane).

I love to cook and cook. In fact, my next career will be in the culinary field. It's my passion. I also enjoy scrapbooking when the occasion allows but unfortunately, I just can't seem to find enough hours in the day sometimes. I look forward to blogging about new recipes and fiascoes that accompany them.

While I fill my days with lawyering, my evenings are filled with those I love. And now- this blog! I hope you enjoy what's yet to come!