If you’ve ever hung out with me for any length of time, you may have heard me say, “If this is the worse thing to happen to me today, I’m in pretty good shape.” It’s a philosophy I embrace whole-heartedly. I may bitch and moan and whine about things, but I really do know how incredibly blessed I am. I know I have intensely complex sons, but I also know that they have sensitive and loving hearts. I have a husband whose stress level is often pinned in the red zone and flirting with “blow the roof,” but I also know that he is a hard and dedicated worker and loves us all deeply. I know I often have a to-do list that turns my stomach, but I also know that if push came to shove I could drop 3/4 of it and the world would keep spinning. I truly know how blessed my life is, and I give thanks to <your deity here> every day.

Today I am eating those words, with a double margarita to wash it all down.

It’s been awhile since I’ve had a day like today. I’m usually able to see the absurdity of the situation and laugh, proof that attitude is the most vital component in reacting to a situation. A few weeks ago, when our furnace/door fiasco flew in to say HI HOWYA DOIN’ YOU DIDN’T NEED A SAVINGS ACCOUNT DID YOU?, after the initial shock of home repair gone SNAFU, I was able to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Today I’m not laughing. I’m tired. We painted the boys’ rooms this weekend, and because I’m a little on the crazy side, I decided to repaint the powder room too. You know, because we had extra paint and apparently no sense. On the bright side, the rooms look fantastic and the powder room with its new paint and mirror and totally kick-ass new faucet is now my favorite room in the house. On the not-so-bright side, I’m wiped out and the house has been torn to hell for several days. I don’t like it when my house is torn to hell, makes me titchy.

But that’s just the back story.

Last night A and J were putting their rooms back to rights (kinda) and some sort of demon possessed A and he hit J in the face. While wearing some cheap-ass ridged ring he got from the pediatrician (irony). And scratched hell out of J’s face. We’re lucky J’s eye wasn’t damaged. Oh, and this is right as he was healing from the black eye A gave him last week by throwing headphones at his head. J now has a double scratch from his hairline nearly to his chin.

So this morning A is grounded for the day, J pukes grape juice all over the kitchen (including the hang-to-the-floor curtains), A has a less than ideal swim lesson proving that executive function is a touch and go thing with him, I have library fines out the wazoo, and got into a fender-bender in the Walgreens parking lot. All before 10:30 am. Now, in the grand scheme of things, this.is.nothing. I know how blessed I am. But. Several days of one thing after another on top of the deep guilty feeling of “I’m failing my sons because I can’t keep them safe from each other” and it was a good thing Walgreens didn’t sell rum to go with the coke I had just bought. The MomVan is fine, but won’t be repaired. It’s worth less than it would be to repair the double dent in the back hatch; the other guy’s bumper popped right back out.

Once home I just laid low and other than going out to clean out the MomVan, just hid from the world. It was a miracle that the storm that was blowing up didn’t strike me dead as I wound up the jumper cables. I’m praying that the rest of the evening is entirely uneventful and I can continue with my plan of drinking margaritas until the day is over.

If these are the worst things to happen to me this week, I’m in pretty good shape.

Ahhh, a slight break in painting. As arid as it is here, the walls dry quickly, so painting goes fast. J’s room should be done today and we’ll start A’s room tonight. Thank God the boys are having a blast sleeping in the basement. For the first time in forever, neither kid is leaving his room to whine about being hungry after bedtime. Hm. Must ponder why.

Painting a room gives me plenty of time to ponder. If I think about how much has to be done, I get all twitchy and find any reason to avoid starting. The computer is a fantastic way to procrastinate. So is cleaning, believe it or not; you can pretend you’re getting something important done. So when I paint, I focus solely on what I am doing at that moment. This is not easy for me; I’m usually planning several steps/days/years ahead. First, the ceiling: cut around the edges, when that’s done get the roller, when that’s done pull the tape. Second, cut in the blue paint: this wall, then that wall, then inside the window, then that wall. Just one thing at a time, and I’m relaxed. I’m focused on the brush going up and down and side to side, getting the tiny specks of old paint covered. I concentrate on painting, but not overly so. Oops, missed a spot, get it, move on. I don’t beat myself up about missing that spot in the first place, I just fix it and keep going. Wish I could do that in real life.

As I paint I write blog posts in my head. I wish I could download them straight from the brain because blue paint just ruins the sleek sexiness of MacDreamy2. I imagine if he had eyes, they’d be this color blue, but I’m not providing the tint today. I dream about the future; places I’d like to visit, other home improvements I’d like to make. I think about the boys, and my hopes and dreams for them. This last one is tough, for I can very quickly run that puppy into the ground, stressing over what might be. I tread lightly on that topic. Painting is as close to a meditative state as I can get with my eyes open, sweating like a construction worker, and breathing in semi-toxic fumes. I enjoy painting, and I’d do it more often for the meditative part of it, if it weren’t for the fact that having my house torn up for several days makes me a snarling bitch.

All this said, no, I will not come paint your house.

The walls should be dry enough for me to continue now. More taping and caulking and painting and thinking and before I know it, the room will be lovely. At least until the little boy moves back into his room.

But I won’t ponder that now.

I hate having my house torn up. I’m a “place for everything, everything in its place” kind of gal. When my house is tidy and clean and everything is put away and there is a minimum of unnecessary crap in the storage room, I’m happy and content and feel like the weight of the world is off my back.

Guess how many times I have felt like that in the last decade or so?

We’re painting the boys’ rooms this weekend, and we started tearing them apart last night. They were thrilled to have a campout in the basement; I was less than thrilled to have little boy stuff all over the house. It’s bad enough that there are inventions and contraptions and Very Special Items in their rooms (God help me if they discover I tossed all the deflated helium balloons; looked like a balloon graveyard upstairs), but now it has all escaped. It appears the crap had a plan and dug its way out when I was otherwise occupied. Think I’m kidding? There’s a robot in my hallway:

J made that at Camp Invention. It’s too large to discard and play dumb, my usual M.O. So Robot stays. Somewhere. Too bad I can’t press it into service this weekend.

Today is prep day for J’s room. Wash and repair the walls, tape, prime the trim because the yahoos who painted it six years ago painted it green…I plead insanity, I was 9 months pregnant at the time. I also have the pleasure of tearing this out:

J’s room is tiny, about 10′x10′. A few years ago we took off his closet doors and put in a DIY closet organizing system. I do not recommend this, it has never worked particularly well, and it doesn’t look all that attractive. So I get to work out my aggression remove this behemoth from his closet with hopefully a minimum of intense profanity. It’s too tall for the basement, so only the bottom drawers will survive the attack to be relocated downstairs, where they will soon be put into service as Lego storage. There is never enough Lego storage in the world. I have drawer dividers stashed away, and the boys can organize or not to their hearts’ content. As long as I never step on a Lego in my bare feet again I’m happy.

That leaves J without a dresser. Enter Kismet, the Happy Go Lucky…uh…Luck Dude! I snagged an antique (!) bureau the other day for the heart-stopping price of…$15.

Solid wood, from the 1940′s. Needs some wood glue and clamps and new hardware. And, as much as it kills me to do it to such an old and lovely piece, a new coat of paint/stain. It’s decorated for a baby’s room, and as we’re changing J’s room from a baby’s room, the new furniture has to be mature!, manly!, able to withstand a beating! On the top trim there is a hand-painted piggy bank, and where the coin slot would be on the bank, there’s a slot in the wood. On the back side there are runners for what was obviously once an attached bank. For the cute! But, sadly, cute won’t cut it.

This is where you all come in. Do I paint? Do I stain? What do I do with the For The Cute! piggy bank slot in the wood? Do I need to strip it first? (Ooh! I get to be a stripper this weekend!? Wait til I tell Tom!) Help me out, I’ve never stripped a piece of furniture before, I’ve always just slapped on another coat of paint. I have a bookcase in my office that is being held together by the coats of paint I’ve brushed on over the years. I really want to do this dresser right (perfectionism much, Jen?) and it has to be done soon. I can’t have J’s clothes all over the house, my organized psyche couldn’t take it.

At least A’s room will be done easily. And then we’re putting down laminate flooring, because I’ve had it and if I have to turn tricks on Colfax to pay for it this builder grade crap carpet that is fraying and drawing blood from the tack strip is outta here! And then cleaning out the garage again! And then it’ll be time for harvest! And then it’ll be time for Christmas decorations! And then…

So I decided, all spur-of-the-moment like, because I’m just so bored to tears around here, to jump into the 31 Days to Building A Better Blog challenge hosted by the SITS Girls, and to just go ahead and make my little corner of the interwebz better. I’ve also apparently decided to make out with commas. Wow.

I digress.

Day Two’s challenge was to write a list post. Done and done. Day One’s challenge, which was yesterday and yes I’m aware I’m bass ackwards here, was to write an elevator pitch for your blog. A quick description of what the blog is about and why someone should care enough to visit. Timely. I was at a baby shower on Saturday and a woman I knew from the Healthy Living class I took this winter was there. She told her friends about the essay I wrote, how much she loved it, and her friends cried out, “OH! You should have a blog!” Um. “Yes, I do!” was my rather surprised reply. I gave them the name and then came the dreaded question: “What do you write about?”

What do I write about? How can I describe, quickly and succinctly, exactly what I do do? (Heh, she said doodoo. Yes, I’m channeling my inner 9 year old. I have two boys, remember?) So I decided to do a little sleuthing. On my own site. With my own permission. I’d be a terrible private investigator. My About Me page mentions giftedness, life balance, raising boys, the silliness that is life, and sharing the stories of my crazy life so others don’t feel so alone in their crazy lives. Ok, sounds about right, but I think I might add a dash of humor to that. I wrote that maybe a year ago. Let’s go back farther (insert wavy lines and going back in time music). My very first post, lo those many years ago (four and a half). Hooboy was that a different time in my life. We no longer have diaper bags, but Calvin and Hobbes have taken over the house. My blog of today is much different from the blog of yesteryear.

I’m less likely to do random quizzes and more likely to write about giftedness. I’m less likely to slap something up for the sake of writing and more likely to figure out ahead of time what it is I want to say. I’m less likely to shout into the void and more likely to focus my words on people who want to hear them.

With this blog I want to reach out to other parents of complex children and share the absurdity. Awaken them to the absurdity of our daily lives if necessary. Have you met these gifted/twice-exceptional/complex children? Have you talked to them? Their minds are on a different plane! Heading east out of O’Hare and you’re heading west out of LAX and if they’re going 500mph and you’re going 450mph in what language will the llama say buggahbuggah to the kumquat? That is what life with these kids is like and laughing at the chaos is better than feeling your brain twitch. Trust me, brain going twitchytwitchy makes mommy go drinkydrinky. Ok, so my audience is the gifted community, people with a sense of humor, and parents who wonder if it’s normal that their three year old is doing a 500 piece puzzle picture side down. Naked. Wearing a Santa hat. In April. But with this blog I want to share the pain and uncertainty that goes hand in hand with the absurdity. Different sides of the same coin.

I asked friends how they would describe Laughing at Chaos and while I got some awesome tag lines from Deborah of #gtchat and Ingeniosus fame, the key word that I was missing came from Missy (told you she was the gifted blogger I wanted to be): eclectic. I can’t pigeonhole what I write here simply because my life and interests are just so vast; a true gifted trait, one I’m still coming to terms with for myself. I’m curious to see what others will say about LAC, but I think I’m honing in on my focus.

So, Jen, what is your blog about?

It’s an eclectic look at the absurdities and insecurities of raising gifted kids. And a bunch of other stuff.

Good? Good.

We’re in the home stretch. Four weeks from tomorrow the hellions I spawned boys return to the hallowed halls of learning. I’ve already started purchasing school supplies, the rumored third pod is being installed at the school today (and I believe that will put the entire 4th and 5th grade classes in mobile facilities…school is three years old, have I mentioned that recently?), and I’ve started fantasizing about what I’ll do with my time once they’re someone else’s responsibility six and one half hours a day. Nevermind that I have a job, hobbies, a house to run, a blog to improve, an ass to whip into shape, places to go and things to do…I still fantasize that I’ll suddenly have gobs of time once they’re back in school. Oh hush, don’t pee in my Cheerios, allow me a little fantasy world. It’s delightful there; has a hammock and a cabana boy bringing me margaritas.

So how to make it through those last few weeks of summer? You know the ones; the kids are bored and either whining about it or picking fights for something to do, the pool is packed or a lightning storm has shut it down for the afternoon, you’re about to put the children on FreeCycle (I don’t recommend this; the authorities tend to frown upon this practice). You turn to:

Jen’s 10 Ways To Keep From Going Batsnot Crazy These Last Few Weeks Of Summer!
(Or maybe eight ways. Or however many ways she comes up with until she thinks she has a whole blog post or goes braindead and pours more iced tea.)

1. Wine. I cannot emphasize this enough. Acceptable substitutes are ice cold Gin & Tonics (leave the gin in the freezer all summer and buy limes from Costco, trust me) and Margaritas (not frozen and yes, I would like salt, thankyousomuchbringmorechipsandsalsa). The adult beverage of your choice at 4:36:30 pm will do wonders for your mood and you won’t give a rat’s patootie that your darling offspring are beating each other with pool noodles in front of your husband’s 40″ big screen tv. As long as you’re making dinner, even if that’s just hauling leftovers out of the fridge, you are permitted to pour yourself a cold one. A double at that.
2. Friends. If you’re getting a buzz cut next week because you’ve been pulling your hair out over your insanity-inducing children, chances are roughly close to ABSOFREAKINGLUTELY!!! that your friends are in the same boat. Plan something to all do together. I, for example, drank heavily from the YOU ARE GOING TO REGRET THIS potion bottle and am going to host a Tie Dye Party for a crapton of kids and their moms the day before school starts. Because nothing says back to school like temporarily dyed hands. And hair. And faces. And bet your sweet ass there’s gonna be some #1 available for the moms.
3. Family. If you get along with your parents, in-laws, cousins, distant cousins, friends of your husband’s on his mother’s side before they moved to an ashram…see if you can ship your kids off to them for a week or so. A and J are thisclose to being old enough to fly off to Chicago alone, with my parents picking them up on the other end. Screw the cabana boy fantasy, I think this is my new one. A?Week?With?No?Kids?In?My?Own?House???? Ahhh….I get all tingly thinking about it.
4. Home improvements. Convince your kids that painting their rooms is the awesomest thing since the time they peed in the school’s playground woodchips that one weekend right before they were grounded for all eternity. Provide boxes for all their crap treasures, and store them in the garage while painting. They get to have sleepovers in each others’ rooms! They get to pick paint colors! They get to believe that manual labor (in the form of washing walls and taping down tarps) is somehow tricking US (Tom Sawyer, I love you…)! THEN! Toss their treasures crap as you move stuff back into their rooms! Ta-Da! Clean rooms right before school starts! Now go have a cocktail.
5. Gardening. Tell them they can’t help in the garden. If your kids are anything like mine, they will gnash their teeth and rip their clothing and pull their hair and whine and beg and complain. You won’t care, because you’ve already started on #1 (oh, it’s the weekend, you can start on cocktails right after lunch). You will sigh deeply and appear to give in. Give them bags and gardening gloves and tell them you pay a nickel per weed root. Not per weed, for you’ll be counting individual strands of dandelion leaves, but per root. That way you know you have the entire weed…for a few days. Sit back on the covered porch, read, have another drink.
6. Roller skates. Both boys have skates now, as well as full-body armor. Neither one can move particularly fast, which means that I can sit on the back porch and sip my lightly sweetened iced tea and watch them flail like ostriches with a seizure disorder improve their skills. If I’m feeling industrious, I might take pictures or video; one can never have too much blackmail fodder for the teenaged years. I highly recommend skates for the younger crowd.
7. Library. Oh library, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…another day. One list post at a time. Oh library, ye of cool air and books and videos of which only one no not two just one each! may leave your hallowed grounds and hushed sounds, you make my summer complete. May I move in? It’s quiet here. May I bring a cocktail? No? Well, then I shall borrow books for myself and my children and we will return to our humble abode to sip and read and relax. Besides, we have beanbag chairs and you don’t. So there. Tttthhhhhppppp…
8. Trickery. How I wish I could take credit for this one, but alas I cannot. My neighbor and dear friend, Jen, who should have her own blog but is all grownup-y and parenting a gifted toddler-y and responsible-y and graduate school-y and starting a charter school-y and bus-y and won’t, shared this one with me. Hide $4.75 in quarters in the backyard, tell the kids there’s $5 in quarters back there, and enjoy the silence with a frosty adult beverage on the porch. I’m saving this one for that week in August when I stupidly planned nothing.
9. Field Trips. There are a few things to consider when planning a field trip with kids in the heat of the summer when you’re all sick to death of each other and wouldn’t mind watching your offspring be eaten by an okapi at the zoo. Avoid the zoo is my first piece of advice. Spring? Go. Fall? Lovely. Winter? Only if it’s above 50 and being eaten by an okapi is better than the cabin fever causing you to!see!music! Wherever you go, go early. Get wherever when they open, then you can throw the kids on top of their library books when you get home. Have backup plans B, C, and all the way through Z, because something will inevitably go wrong and if you think the heat of summer is driving you to drink, consider Loopy the Clown being in the poky after his gig the night before as a male stripper and Little Son freaking the hell out because you promised that Loopy the Clown would make him a balloon wiener dog with a big purple leash and you ruined his life and it’s only 9:15 and I’m sorry, throwing a hunk of meat into the crockpot is not dinner preparation and you can’t hit the bottle then.
10. Water. The MomVan has never been this clean. Neither has my patio furniture. A hose, some sunscreen, and a few soft brushes and there are delighted boys and a quiet home for minutes on end. Minutes I tell you!

Well, I’ll be a…somethin’ or other. A full ten. No one is more surprised than I. Now please excuse, I have an hour of silence to soak up before I have to retrieve my young men from camp. Camp that will considerably more utilized next summer.

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This post was written as part of the 31 Days to Building a Better Blog challenge, hosted by the SITS Girls.

I have been feeling distinctly unbeautiful as of late,  beginning with another bout of gluten poisoning this weekend (they’re getting more severe when they happen), continuing with a personal training session this morning with the trainer I’ve been using in a group class setting and therefore had to tell someone out loud that I weigh one-hundred-and-I-ate-both-my-sons and how much that bothers me and on a scale of 1-10 how committed am I to change yadayadayada, and culminating in janking up my knee running between buildings in the rain this afternoon, so getting this award from Subadra from Library of Links, Books, and More, was a delight. Hello run-on sentence, how’ya doin’?

As a recipient of the Beautiful Blogger award, one must:

1) Add a link and note of thanks to the person giving the award.
Subadra, thank you for brightening my day. And many, many thanks for your learning links and lists. I will try to write more funny posts like the one about Buddy’s surgery.

2) Pass the award on to the bloggers whose blogs you love (15 tops)
Lemme see what I got in my bag o’ blogroll…

Nancy at Away We Go. Nancy’s parents live in my town, and she and I met for coffee when she was visiting in May. That was awesome. The morning we met (May, remember) we were socked with a couple inches of snow and now Nancy doesn’t want to move out here. That was bad. She never fails to make me laugh, ever. Her writing is delightful, and I love reading about someone else surviving raising two sons.
Denise at Eat Play Love. Denise was one of my first blog friends turned real life friend. She lives not far from me and we try to get together when we can. We (and I use “we” extremely loosely, as she has done 99.99% of the work) write a bento blog together: Colorado Bento (and stunner, I actually have a post up there today! Gasp!).
Christina at ends with 8741. Another blog friend who is now a real life friend. Yes, I recognize an inadvertent theme here. She and I met for dinner last month when I was in Chicago, and it was wonderful. She started the Hopeful Parents network (and I have to use network, because it’s so much more than a blog now) and despite raising a child with severe mental illness, is building that network into a force to be reckoned with for parents of special needs kids. I’m proud of her.
Melissa at Forty is Just Another Number. Mel is my BFF-if-we-lived-in-the-same-town. She’s in Austin, I’m in Denver-ish, and eventually we’ll meet. I keep hoping she’ll move here, but that is, sadly, unlikely to happen. She, too, is raising two gifted sons, and we have a grand ol’ time comparing notes. And cocktail recipes.
Tiffani at freeplaylife. Tiffani was a blog friend who became a real life friend when we realized we lived in the same town and then she moved away and broke my heart and now I live vicariously through her. She is the bravado I wish I had. Last year she and her family sold off everything they owned, moved into an RV on the California beach, then into a small home in Hollywood. She unschools her kids and they are wicked smart kids. She is raising her kids to grow into themselves, and not a preconceived notion of what a <insert age of kid here> should be. She’s my inspiration in many ways.
Missy at Loving Your Gifted Child and Much, Much More. Ah, the “raising gifted kids” blogger I wish I was. She balances her writing between stories of her kids and information on general giftedness. It’s a delicate balance and she is walking that fencepost well.
Kelley at Magneto Bold Too! Yes, please don’t read this sassy Aussie if you’re easily offended, the woman has a mouth like a drunken sailor on shore leave with a pocket full of cash. And I totally think she rocks. I’d love to sit back and toast margaritas to each other with her, but the best I can do is enjoy her from afar. But when the day comes that I finally make it to the opposite hemisphere, we’re going hittin’ the town.
Dawn at Weldable Cookies. She and I couldn’t be any more different unless I was a platypus and she was a…anything else. And yet, we’re friends. When a cranky middle-aged butch lesbian and a work at home stressed out wife and mom can find common ground for friendship, true friendship, you know that…well, it’s pretty cool.

3) Share 7 things about yourself

• Did I mention that I totally janked up my knee this afternoon? Yeah, wasn’t sure if I had whined about that enough yet. I’m lying (laying?) here on the couch with an icepack and I just can’t get it comfortable. As A has been saying so often that we’re all going batshit crazy from it, “Seriously?”
• I stunned Tom with this little tidbit last week. I cannot stand to have anything on my thumbnails. Peanut butter, meatloaf, anything. Nail polish I’m ok, but anything with heft to it, and I’m reduced to a quietly hysterical mess. Gagging/gurgling in the back of my throat, shallow breathing, panicked rushing to the sink/towel. He couldn’t believe we’d been together for 17 years and he never knew that. Well buddy, it’s not something I advertise, m’kay?
• I love Rainier cherries. Not only are they about the most delicious thing I get to put in my mouth this time of year, but they are full of memories. My beloved flute teacher  loved Rainier cherries, and we ate them by the pound at a masterclass he taught in Victoria, B.C. I had a whole bunch this afternoon and smiled the whole time.
• I am convinced…wait, past convinced…that A is conspiring to drive me batshit crazy. I have suspected for a few months now that his beloved GT teacher had left his school and had no idea how to break it to him. Little shit offhandedly mentioned at dinner tonight that Ms. S left wouldn’t be returning to school this year because she left to become a writer. Ok, A) totally jealous that she left to become a writer and, B) he has known this since the beginning of MAY and just now mentioned it! Truly I think my darling son stays up nights thinking up ways to keep my hair colorist in business for life.
• I have never been skiing in my life. Thirteen years in a state with some of the best skiing in the world, and I’ve never thrown myself down a mountain on a pair of toothpicks. If I can throw out a knee running 100 yards in the rain, do you really thing it’s a good idea for me to attempt that?
• Though I grew up in Chicago, I was born in Tennessee and lived there until I was around two. As a result, I can slide into a Southern drawl without a lot of effort. Yes, spooks me too.
• My cousin had the twins about 10 days ago. They are healthy and happy and I get new pictures and videos every day. They have that wonderful “how the hell did I get here?” look to them and don’t look at all like preemies who went through the pregnancy from hell. I can’t wait to snuggle them. Hopefully Christmas.

Alrighty then. I feel a bit more beautiful, with a bit more hope for the week. Go visit the beautiful bloggers I mentioned and make their day.

Note to anyone who cares or might come after me with Bunnicula or threaten to take my children (wait…hang on…ya really want ‘em?), this is a compensated review for French Meadow Bakery.
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A few months ago (seriously, it was ages ago, I’ll get into why in a minute), I was contacted by a marketing person to gauge my interest in doing some product reviews. I glanced at the offerings, realized that most of them were food that I couldn’t eat (hello, gluten-free lifestyle!), and politely declined. The nice woman pointed out that there was a company on the list that had gluten-free products. I checked again and made happy squealing sounds, because I recognized the company and liked their stuff. Last summer when we visited Disney World, the gluten-free desserts were French Meadow Bakery, and I fell so hard for the brownies that I used our remaining snack tickets to buy a bunch to take home.

So why the delay in the review? I was contacted in March, finally got the coupons at the end of April, and started searching for products to try. And searched. Four stores later, still couldn’t find any gluten-free products. On our trip to Chicago in June, jackpot. Got some gluten-free goodies, took notes, brain fell out when summer started and forgot to write the post, and here we are. Of course, once I found the products and used the coupons, I’ve been finding gluten-free French Meadow Bakery goodies everywhere.

(Time sensitive note: I just checked out their website and it appears to be down as they comply with FDA regulations regarding packaging. Huh. This means I can’t link directly to the products I sampled.)

I sampled four different products, all gluten-free.

• Take and bake chocolate chip cookies, found in the freezer section
• Pre-packaged brownies, found in the freezer section
• Bread, found in the freezer section
• Brown rice with Cuban vegetables, found in the freezer section

Take and bake chocolate chip cookies
I bought these in Chicago and made them in my mom’s kitchen. With her crappy oven. And thusly overcooked the suckers a bit. However, I think even if I had not done that, that I’d not be a huge honkin’ fan. See, chocolate chip cookies are my all-time favorite cookie, forever and ever amen. And I’m pretty picky about them. I like them a bit chewy, with a little snap, with enough size to dunk. These came out like many gluten-free baked items: a little dry and crumbly. I think they’d be fantastic in ice cream sandwiches, but as cookies they left me wanting. I’m glad I tried them, but I have a fantastic recipe for gluten-free chocolate chip cookies and I think I’ll stick with that for the time being.

Pre-packaged brownies
Oh.My.God. I love these. I want to take them home and hug them and love them and name them George. And then eat them. One after another. And then cover every mirror in the house so I don’t have to see my fat and happy ass. They are chewy with a rich chocolate flavor and, as they are individually wrapped, sized for self-discipline. I do have a killer recipe for gluten-free brownies, but these are great to have on hand for the days (like this week) when it’s too hot to crank on the oven.

Bread
It’s a good thing I’m not a huge fan of sandwiches. I’d much rather have a rice bowl or a salad or pasta. Sandwiches never really do a lot for me, unless they are super-deluxe sandwiches that I don’t have to make. Calorie-free would be a nice bonus. Just sayin’. That said, I’m always looking for a tasty gluten-free bread. Sometimes sandwiches are the only thing available, or you want to make toast, or whatnot. Sadly, this bread is not a tasty gluten-free bread. Dry, crumbly, did not hold up well to sandwich-making. Made decent toast, but failed miserably on the sandwich front. I kinda like my bread to stay in one piece as I’m eating the sandwich and not crumble into a pile of chunks and crumbs on the plate. This would make pretty good bread crumbs, though.

Brown rice with Cuban vegetables
Not bad! I mis-read the package and thought it was just the veggies so I made brown rice to go with it. They had a great spice flavor with a little kick. I think with a little leftover cooked chicken, this would make a delicious rice bowl, good for taking to work for lunch or having as a quick dinner. I think I’d keep these in the freezer as a backup, and use to fill out dinner.

So there ya go. A review of some new gluten-free offerings from French Meadow Bakery. I will be enjoying the brownies again in the future, they are that good.

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Remember! Compensated review. I received coupons to purchase the reviewed items. I’m really not worth hunting down. Truly.

You know how you can tell it’s summer? You blink and foomp! and it’s been a week since your last post. It’s not like I’m on vacation, or going on incredible adventures, or needlepointing a beach towel with the armpit hair of fairies…it’s just summer. My time is mainly spent in juggling what I need to do (pick one) with what I want to do (again, pick one) with the boys not currently in camp (tactical error on my part) with the fires that pop up every day and demand instant attention.

Like the fact that MacDreamy has another appointment with the Genius Bar this morning because the bastard had the same monitor issue crop up yesterday afternoon. I’m too tired to be kidding; I was up insanely late last night reading (only time I’m left alone long enough to be sucked into a good book) and I’ve been forcing myself to get up at 6:30 lately so I have that extra bit of quiet time before the boys thump their way into the day. I’m tired is what I’m saying. On the bright side, I may or may not get to indulge my fantasy of being a cranky, profane bitch in public as I demand the problem be fixed. Now. With no cost to me. And bring me a latte, peon! A skinny one! I keep seeing pictures of my 40 pound overweight self and think they should be hung in a garden to scare off animals! Or in a Baskin Robbins store to scare off dieters!

But summer allows me to indulge my Little House in the Subdivision life. Apparently those books have had way too much influence on me. Let’s recap. Yesterday I:

• planted beans in the garden box that recently held 73!!!! heads of garlic. I am now doing crop rotation in my backyard.
• trained the four grape vines to grow along the fence properly. We have grapes. LOTS of grapes. It’s the Laughing at Chaos Vineyard, and the 2010 vintage will be jelly.
• sweet-talked the tomato plants, because those poor suckers just look unhappy.
• weeded. I like weeding; it’s like popping a zit in the garden. Very satisfying.
• fertilized everything in the hopes that the combination of this week’s high temperatures plus water plus ground feeding will make things happy.
• staked up the tomatillo plant that, if a windstorm doesn’t blow off all the flowers like the last time I grew tomatillos, will keep the entire neighborhood in salsa for a year.
• popped the flowers off the basil plants and rejoiced in the fact that they may all survive. All six of them. Do you have any idea how much basil six plants produces? I may have overdone it there.

This weekend I also dried kale and stashed it in the freezer, so we can have sausage kale soup this winter, as there is no way in hell I’m making soup in a week when it’s going to in the mid-90s. Yogurt yogurted last night, and today I start on a batch of beef jerky.

Wait! What was that? <listening>

Ahh…the dulcet sounds of silence. Getting up at the crack of crazy really is a good idea! Perhaps I could work on any of the dozen post ideas I have on a sticky note here. Or read a book. Or any number of other things that don’t get done because it’s summer.

Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll sit here with a cup of coffee, the silence, and the beautiful mountain view and give thanks that I have such problems.

Yeah. That sounds about right.

Hi Murphy! Hi Law sidekick! We haven’t missed you! We didn’t write; didn’t want you to return! But.Here.You.Are.

Yesterday was our 14th anniversary. A day to renew our love for each other, to remember how we met and fell in love and married. A day to discover that Murphy and his little Law don’t give a rat’s patootie about any of that. Good thing we didn’t get each other gifts. Good thing I did get flowers. Just sayin’.

Our HVAC system has been making…hmmm, how to describe?…sounds like a dachshund giving birth to a woolly mammoth inside a washing machine during the spin cycle in the middle of an EF5 tornado. Loud. Banging. Whining. Unpleasant to the ear, is what I’m going for here. Wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but before today’s temps of mid-50s, we were in a stretch of mid-90 degree temperatures and the a/c was on quite a bit. And my office is in the basement, mere feet from the HVAC system. And my job requires me to be on the phone a lot. Sooo…local HVAC repair guys to the rescue!

Yesterday, our 14th anniversary, we learned that the HVAC motor needed replaced and part + labor = Big Number Thank God We Didn’t Have Elaborate Plans For Our Anniversary.

Today, one day into our fifteenth year of marital bliss, we learned that when we finished the basement four years ago, the door to the furnace room was designed to code, yet covered six inches too much of the HVAC cover and the large motor thingamabob wouldn’t.fit.into.the.unit. The wall was in the way. Code declares in no uncertain terms that any walls or doors must be far enough away for the entire unit to be replaced, but doesn’t specify a distance for repair.

We learned this at noon. I got rather dizzy. Sadly, wine was not the culprit in this dizziness.

So, today, one day into our fifteenth year of marital bliss we learned that HVAC part + labor + return labor to install part when wall issue is resolved + demolition of wall + new, wider doors to allow for HVAC clearance + wall demolition/door installation labor = Jen is on her third glass of wine and thank the sweet baby zombie Jesus she stocked up on Trader Joe’s Three Buck Chuck because she needs the wine and the booze budget is probably gonna be happy-go-bye-bye and sayonara to the laminate floors they were gonna get ’cause the seven year old builder-grade crap carpeting is threadbare and toodleloo to any thoughts of a vacation in the next 18 months and the MomVan only has 100,000+ miles on it and holy crap I’m so glad I found a job.

My motto for today, and life in general: “If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, I’m in pretty good shape.” I say this because Tom and I are really and truly laughing at this. It very quickly went from “hey, the HVAC is making a funky sound” to “too bad ramen isn’t gluten-free.” I also say this today because in the grand scheme of things, this is minor. Right now, as I type, my cousin is in labor with twins. She and her partner have been through hell and back with her pregnancy. Ch not only had to deal with the crap that pregnancy brings, but also something else. The doctors thought it was lymphoma, then not. They still have no idea, but she’s bringing a couple of preemies into the world because her body had just had enough. She and C are going to be wonderful moms and I’m so happy for them. A large unexpected home repair is nothing compared to preemies coming into the world and my cousin so ill. Nothing.

So I laugh at the chaos my life brings and give thanks that I’m able to find the humor in it all. Because, really, it’s all small stuff.

Even when it’s big.

So MacDreamy is at the Mac Hospital with the Geniuses getting a lobotomy a new motherboard. This leaves me with an unexpected load of time on my hands, as most of the important to-dos on the list involved a functioning computer. I briefly considered scrubbing my kitchen cabinets, because after 7 years of benign neglect they are all kinds of ewwwwww, but I quickly came to my senses when I checked out the calendar.

Today’s our anniversary.

Fourteen years of marriage, seven of them in this house, nine with children, the last six weeks with allergies so intense I can barely leave the house. Yeah, I’m bringing sexy back with my nighttime bite guard and my BreatheRight strips and kleenexes littering the bedroom and the constant sneezing and nose blowing and snorking. Oh yeah. You know you want me, I can tell.

But I’m taken, sorry.

I wish I had a cute story about how we met seventeen years ago, but I’ve already told that story. I wish I had a cute picture of us to share, but it’s currently entertaining the Geniuses. And no, there are none of those kinds of pictures on MacDreamy to entertain the Geniuses. That I remember.

Moving on!

We are not going out tonight. Sad, but true. Fourteen is the “slap steaks on the grill and watch a rented movie” anniversary. It’s the “turn over and kiss each other awake with Happy Anniversary wishes” anniversary. It’s the “oh shit, I forgot to buy/make him a card” anniversary. And for the last five years it’s been the “J’s birthday is next week” anniversary. Six years ago it was the “I’m ginormously pregnant and have food poisoning from our celebratory dinner at that Mexican restaurant” anniversary. That was fun. Told you I’m bringing sexy back!

Ten year anniversary we went to Disney World without the boys. I totally recommend all grownups do that, you have infinitely more fun without kids. That’s not to say going with the boys last year was a bad idea, but dang, just the two of us was awesome. Twelve year anniversary was when we renewed our vows with Elvis and eight of our closest friends, four of whom renewed also. Next year…well, no plans yet, but there’s still plenty of time.

Fourteen years. Seems like a lifetime, a blink of an eye, the best decision I ever made.

Happy anniversary sweetie.