Leilani reading the paper.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Baby vs Toddler
Tonight after putting Leilani to sleep, I had to ask Mike if she seemed more like a toddler than a baby today. She's growing up so fast, and although there are moments when I just want to rush her along in age and ability, tonight I realized that I need to slow down and take it all in because she IS growing up and it won't be like this for long. I love my baby and want her to be just that for as long as possible. I love her.
Leilani reading the paper.
Leilani reading the paper.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
The Park
A couple days ago, I took Leilani to a park near our house to take some photos of her. I love taking pictures, and I just bought a new camera to replace the old one I had that Leilani treated like a pacifier one day.
Though I am certainly just a novice when it comes to anything beyond a 'point and shoot' camera, and make no grand illusions of being anything beyond that, I decided to buy a camera with manual aperture and shutter speed settings. I thought I might be able to produce at least a few photos that look something close to a professional picture. That is, if Leilani would cooperate long enough for me to figure out what I'm doing.
She didn't.
I took one picture of her sitting in the grass. ONE. Then she got fussy. I couldn't even get her to look in the direction of me or the camera. It was a total bust. To top it all off, I forgot to bring a bottle to calm her down. So I packed up the circus and went home.
Though I am certainly just a novice when it comes to anything beyond a 'point and shoot' camera, and make no grand illusions of being anything beyond that, I decided to buy a camera with manual aperture and shutter speed settings. I thought I might be able to produce at least a few photos that look something close to a professional picture. That is, if Leilani would cooperate long enough for me to figure out what I'm doing.
She didn't.
I took one picture of her sitting in the grass. ONE. Then she got fussy. I couldn't even get her to look in the direction of me or the camera. It was a total bust. To top it all off, I forgot to bring a bottle to calm her down. So I packed up the circus and went home.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Day Time Television
(Originally posted by Me on 05/07/2007)
So now that I'm not working a 9 to 5 type of job anymore, I have time during the day to sit on the couch and watch daytime TV. Between the commercials for Gold Bond foot powder and Hover Round scooters, I manage to watch the Price Is Right. Like the little boy obsessed with TV in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory flying through the air in a million little pieces only to be put back together in miniature form in a TV, I imagine the same thing happening here, only it's some kind of DRUG flying through the air. Seriously, could this show be anymore addictive? And I really don't see the reason for it. It's just a bunch of overweight trailer park trash types "coming on down" the aisle in their spandex leggings and circa 1989 Mickey Mouse sweatshirts. Speaking of which... when did it become a custom to go down to the local Kinko's and have a shirt made that says "Kiss me Bob" on it. It seems like a prerequisite to even sit in the audience lately. But back to the point... If Plinko were to marry Cliff Hanger and have some sort of game show uber-baby, I may be forced to check into the Betty Ford clinic for game show addiction. Aaahhh... the Price Is Right, I love you.
At the other end of the daytime TV show pool, we have shows like "The View" and other talk shows. They're ALL crazy. It's like a hen house and they're all pecking away at sanity. Anyone who can stomach these shows for more than a four minutes has my kudos, but not my respect.
So now that I'm not working a 9 to 5 type of job anymore, I have time during the day to sit on the couch and watch daytime TV. Between the commercials for Gold Bond foot powder and Hover Round scooters, I manage to watch the Price Is Right. Like the little boy obsessed with TV in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory flying through the air in a million little pieces only to be put back together in miniature form in a TV, I imagine the same thing happening here, only it's some kind of DRUG flying through the air. Seriously, could this show be anymore addictive? And I really don't see the reason for it. It's just a bunch of overweight trailer park trash types "coming on down" the aisle in their spandex leggings and circa 1989 Mickey Mouse sweatshirts. Speaking of which... when did it become a custom to go down to the local Kinko's and have a shirt made that says "Kiss me Bob" on it. It seems like a prerequisite to even sit in the audience lately. But back to the point... If Plinko were to marry Cliff Hanger and have some sort of game show uber-baby, I may be forced to check into the Betty Ford clinic for game show addiction. Aaahhh... the Price Is Right, I love you.
At the other end of the daytime TV show pool, we have shows like "The View" and other talk shows. They're ALL crazy. It's like a hen house and they're all pecking away at sanity. Anyone who can stomach these shows for more than a four minutes has my kudos, but not my respect.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
First Steps
Our little one took her first steps this evening. It's strange how I never had any motherly intuitions before becoming pregnant. I was on the fence about ever having a child. But since we had little Leilani, I've become a big mush ball. And when she took her first steps tonight, I cried.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Why Slow Cooker Recipes???
Simple. I love slow cookers.
I love the food that they produce. I love the smells that permeate the entire house when the slow cooker is doing what it does. There's nothing better than eating food that was a cinch to prepare, yet tastes like it took all day. Which it did, because it was cooked for 8 hours in a slow cooker. They are so versatile... a slow cooker can make everything from appetizers to entrees to desserts. I've even dabbled in the creation of beverages made in my slow cooker. I can turn it on in the morning and forget about it until dinner time. And when I make a meal in my slow cooker, I usually have to clean a knife, a cutting board, and my crock. That's it.
I love slow cookers.
I love the food that they produce. I love the smells that permeate the entire house when the slow cooker is doing what it does. There's nothing better than eating food that was a cinch to prepare, yet tastes like it took all day. Which it did, because it was cooked for 8 hours in a slow cooker. They are so versatile... a slow cooker can make everything from appetizers to entrees to desserts. I've even dabbled in the creation of beverages made in my slow cooker. I can turn it on in the morning and forget about it until dinner time. And when I make a meal in my slow cooker, I usually have to clean a knife, a cutting board, and my crock. That's it.
I love slow cookers.
North Carolina Pulled Pork
My FAVORITE pulled pork recipe. Very tangy... You'll love it if you like a vinegar-based barbecue sauce.
3 lbs pork butt roast
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp brown sugar
¼ tsp celery seeds
¼ tsp garlic salt
1/2 tsp dry mustard
¼ tsp onion powder
½ tsp black pepper
1/8 tsp salt
¼ cup plus 2 tsp cider vinegar
½ cup plus 2 tsp water
¼ cup ketchup
1 tblsp plus 2 tsp packed brown sugar
2 tsp salt
1 ½ tsp crushed red pepper flakes
In a small bowl, mix paprika, sugar, celery seeds, garlic salt, dry mustard, pepper, onion powder, and salt. Rub spice mixture onto the roast on all sides. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 8 hours, or overnight. Place roast in slow cooker and cook for 4 hours on low setting, then turn heat up to high and continue to cook for 4 more hours. In a medium bowl, whisk together vinegar, water, ketchup, brown sugar, salt, and red pepper flakes until sugar is dissolved. Remove pork from slow cooker and pull apart with two forks. Drain liquid from slow cooker and return shredded pork to slow cooker. Add vinegar to slow cooker and heat for 15 minutes or until heated through.
3 lbs pork butt roast
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp brown sugar
¼ tsp celery seeds
¼ tsp garlic salt
1/2 tsp dry mustard
¼ tsp onion powder
½ tsp black pepper
1/8 tsp salt
¼ cup plus 2 tsp cider vinegar
½ cup plus 2 tsp water
¼ cup ketchup
1 tblsp plus 2 tsp packed brown sugar
2 tsp salt
1 ½ tsp crushed red pepper flakes
In a small bowl, mix paprika, sugar, celery seeds, garlic salt, dry mustard, pepper, onion powder, and salt. Rub spice mixture onto the roast on all sides. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 8 hours, or overnight. Place roast in slow cooker and cook for 4 hours on low setting, then turn heat up to high and continue to cook for 4 more hours. In a medium bowl, whisk together vinegar, water, ketchup, brown sugar, salt, and red pepper flakes until sugar is dissolved. Remove pork from slow cooker and pull apart with two forks. Drain liquid from slow cooker and return shredded pork to slow cooker. Add vinegar to slow cooker and heat for 15 minutes or until heated through.
Pedro's Three Pound Burrito... A Short Synopsis.
(Originally posted by Me on 08/13/2006)
Good God. When you order a three pound burrito, you never really grasp the magnitude of it. And then the server comes over and brings it to you. At first you think, I can handle this. But you know in your heart, you really can't. Then you start to eat. And with every bite you believe more and more that you can finish the beast. Inch by inch, you slowly make your way to the burrito finish line. But marathon runner you are not, and you quickly realize that it was ridiculous of yourself to believe that you are anything more than a sprinter. About half way you start to curse yourself for even putting your stomach through such an ordeal. Your common sense that abandoned you when you ordered the monster returns and you give up.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Hockey Fights Aren't Just For Hockey Players
(Originally posted by Me on 02/04/2008)
Let me preface this by writing that I hate most things from Chicago and no, I had not had one beer all night...
The Admirals played the Chicago Wolves last Friday night. And in typical Lacey-at-a-hockey-game fashion, I was, vocal. Nay, obnoxious. But who isn’t? Anyhow, after about 45 minutes of verbal abuse and sailor swearing at anything on the ice not wearing an Admirals jersey, a call was made by the Ref that did not sit well with the Wolves bench. The entire bench was on it’s feet screaming at the top of their lungs. And then it happened...
Like Moses parting the Red Sea, a hush came over the crowd just long enough for the Israelites that are my words to walk through:
SHUT UP!!!
Which looking back now really isn’t all that bad. There were no vulgarities. No player-specific put-downs. What’s the big deal? But back to the story...
The ENTIRE Wolves bench looks over at me, including the coach. (Did I mention that I sit just to the left of the visitor’s bench?) The nearest player to me, Alexandre Giroux, decided that my little outburst would not go unnoticed. He chose to leave the realm of sports professionalism to yell back. I think his words were something like: Like you know anything about hockey! (That’s the PG version) I then maturally retorted with FUCK YOU!
Later in the 2nd period, nearly undefended, Ol’ Alex slapped one in for a goal to tie the game. Upon returning to the bench he felt we needed further dialog. He kept yelling at me: Wasn’t that a beautiful shot? Wasn’t that great? Unfortunately, I am not so good on my feet with comebacks. Especially now, since I was completely stunned that this was even happening. The only thing I could say was that he should act like a professional and pay attention to the game and not me. However, the diehard Wolves fans sitting behind me decided to chime in and loudly agree with Alex. I really wanted to turn around and start something with them, but they come to every Milwaukee-Chicago game and sit behind me. I don’t need that kind of headache.
Every time the Ads scored after that, I commented loudly how beautiful all their goals were. Yadda yadda yadda, Admirals regained the lead and won the game. On his way into the tunnel, Alex decided to stop and say "good game" to me. I thought that was great.
Prior to the game, I was on the fence about going to the next Chicago game because it’s on Valentine’s Day. But this solidifies it, I’m going... and I’m thinking about bringing him a Valentine’s gift.
Let me preface this by writing that I hate most things from Chicago and no, I had not had one beer all night...
The Admirals played the Chicago Wolves last Friday night. And in typical Lacey-at-a-hockey-game fashion, I was, vocal. Nay, obnoxious. But who isn’t? Anyhow, after about 45 minutes of verbal abuse and sailor swearing at anything on the ice not wearing an Admirals jersey, a call was made by the Ref that did not sit well with the Wolves bench. The entire bench was on it’s feet screaming at the top of their lungs. And then it happened...
Like Moses parting the Red Sea, a hush came over the crowd just long enough for the Israelites that are my words to walk through:
SHUT UP!!!
Which looking back now really isn’t all that bad. There were no vulgarities. No player-specific put-downs. What’s the big deal? But back to the story...
The ENTIRE Wolves bench looks over at me, including the coach. (Did I mention that I sit just to the left of the visitor’s bench?) The nearest player to me, Alexandre Giroux, decided that my little outburst would not go unnoticed. He chose to leave the realm of sports professionalism to yell back. I think his words were something like: Like you know anything about hockey! (That’s the PG version) I then maturally retorted with FUCK YOU!
Later in the 2nd period, nearly undefended, Ol’ Alex slapped one in for a goal to tie the game. Upon returning to the bench he felt we needed further dialog. He kept yelling at me: Wasn’t that a beautiful shot? Wasn’t that great? Unfortunately, I am not so good on my feet with comebacks. Especially now, since I was completely stunned that this was even happening. The only thing I could say was that he should act like a professional and pay attention to the game and not me. However, the diehard Wolves fans sitting behind me decided to chime in and loudly agree with Alex. I really wanted to turn around and start something with them, but they come to every Milwaukee-Chicago game and sit behind me. I don’t need that kind of headache.
Every time the Ads scored after that, I commented loudly how beautiful all their goals were. Yadda yadda yadda, Admirals regained the lead and won the game. On his way into the tunnel, Alex decided to stop and say "good game" to me. I thought that was great.
Prior to the game, I was on the fence about going to the next Chicago game because it’s on Valentine’s Day. But this solidifies it, I’m going... and I’m thinking about bringing him a Valentine’s gift.
AKA Brandi Lisa
My name hasn't always been Lacey. For a short time just after I was born, my name was Brandi Lisa. My last name? Well, even I don't know that. I was given up for adoption when I was born and luckily enough I was adopted by a family who already had one adopted child and was fully prepared to take on a second. Otherwise, who knows what my life would have been like.
I ask myself all the time: WHY was I given up for adoption?
No one makes the decision to give up a child lightly. No one gives up a baby because it's eyes are blue or brown or green and never because it's hair is brown or black or blond. I don't feel, and have never felt, "abandoned" or "unwanted". I know for certain that I wasn't given up because there was something wrong with ME.
I was told when I was a child that my birth mother was a high school senior and too young to be a mother. I don't know how my parents would have known this, and I never asked. But now, as an adult, I realize that was a little white lie that I was told in case I ever felt that I was an unwanted baby. A little white lie so that I never felt bad about myself. And for that, I'm not upset at my parents for lying.
But my birth mother? That's another story. I would never say I'm "mad" at her. I have no reason to be. I am puzzled by a few things though... mainly, WHO ARE YOU?
You see, a couple of years ago, I decided to investigate where and who I came from. I spent seventy-five Canadian dollars to request my birth documents. I waited for 8 weeks to get my records. Those were the longest 8 weeks of my life. I couldn't believe I was actually going to find out who my birth mother was. I was so excited. However, although Canada has what are called "open adoption records", birth parents have the option to file whats called a "disclosure veto." A disclosure veto essentially means that personal information regarding birth parents are kept private from anyone requesting birth documents.
And sadly, that's an option my birth mother chose to take.
When the mail came one day and I saw a huge packet addressed from British Columbia, I ran to the mailbox to get it. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Then I opened it... I received a packet of documents in the mail with black markings all over it. Black markings to cover up names, addresses, dates, and so forth. I was crushed. I couldn't believe it. Not only did she not want me, she did not even want me to know who she was. For the first time, I felt unwanted.
About 5 years have passed since that day. At this point, I have a who-cares mentality. As far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed. I've gained nothing. I've lost nothing. I am back to where I was more than 5 years ago. I've had time to get over it and now I can say that I barely care about the situation. That's not to say that I don't want to meet her, I still do, but I'm over the feeling of being unwanted.
So to my birth mother I say this: If you're out there, I'd love to know who you are. I'd love to meet you. I don't ever expect to, but I do want to. I don't know if you're remorseful of cutting off any means of learning about you, but I forgive you. It was and is your choice.
I ask myself all the time: WHY was I given up for adoption?
No one makes the decision to give up a child lightly. No one gives up a baby because it's eyes are blue or brown or green and never because it's hair is brown or black or blond. I don't feel, and have never felt, "abandoned" or "unwanted". I know for certain that I wasn't given up because there was something wrong with ME.
I was told when I was a child that my birth mother was a high school senior and too young to be a mother. I don't know how my parents would have known this, and I never asked. But now, as an adult, I realize that was a little white lie that I was told in case I ever felt that I was an unwanted baby. A little white lie so that I never felt bad about myself. And for that, I'm not upset at my parents for lying.
But my birth mother? That's another story. I would never say I'm "mad" at her. I have no reason to be. I am puzzled by a few things though... mainly, WHO ARE YOU?
You see, a couple of years ago, I decided to investigate where and who I came from. I spent seventy-five Canadian dollars to request my birth documents. I waited for 8 weeks to get my records. Those were the longest 8 weeks of my life. I couldn't believe I was actually going to find out who my birth mother was. I was so excited. However, although Canada has what are called "open adoption records", birth parents have the option to file whats called a "disclosure veto." A disclosure veto essentially means that personal information regarding birth parents are kept private from anyone requesting birth documents.
And sadly, that's an option my birth mother chose to take.
When the mail came one day and I saw a huge packet addressed from British Columbia, I ran to the mailbox to get it. It was one of the happiest days of my life. Then I opened it... I received a packet of documents in the mail with black markings all over it. Black markings to cover up names, addresses, dates, and so forth. I was crushed. I couldn't believe it. Not only did she not want me, she did not even want me to know who she was. For the first time, I felt unwanted.
About 5 years have passed since that day. At this point, I have a who-cares mentality. As far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed. I've gained nothing. I've lost nothing. I am back to where I was more than 5 years ago. I've had time to get over it and now I can say that I barely care about the situation. That's not to say that I don't want to meet her, I still do, but I'm over the feeling of being unwanted.
So to my birth mother I say this: If you're out there, I'd love to know who you are. I'd love to meet you. I don't ever expect to, but I do want to. I don't know if you're remorseful of cutting off any means of learning about you, but I forgive you. It was and is your choice.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Mexican Style Pulled Pork
One of my best, I must admit. So delicious!
3 lbs. Boneless pork loin or butt
½ tsp salt
8 oz. diced green chile peppers
4 gloves of minced garlic
¼ cup chipotle sauce
½ cup water
Place the roast in slow cooker and season with salt. Place chile peppers and garlic on top of roast. Pour in chipotle sauce and ½ cup water. Cover and cook 7 hours on low. Remove roast from slow cooker and use two forks to shred. Return roast to slow cooker for 15 minutes to allow pork to absorb liquid.
3 lbs. Boneless pork loin or butt
½ tsp salt
8 oz. diced green chile peppers
4 gloves of minced garlic
¼ cup chipotle sauce
½ cup water
Place the roast in slow cooker and season with salt. Place chile peppers and garlic on top of roast. Pour in chipotle sauce and ½ cup water. Cover and cook 7 hours on low. Remove roast from slow cooker and use two forks to shred. Return roast to slow cooker for 15 minutes to allow pork to absorb liquid.
Discovery World
Our little family +Brad went to Discovery World in downtown Milwaukee a couple of days ago. I laid on a bed of nails (yeah, that's right!), drove a virtual car (not much more interesting than driving a real car), and did other semi-scientific stuff. All around, a good time. I don't think we would have gone if it weren't for the free tickets we won from an Admiral's promotion. Regular price was pretty ridiculous. But if you spend the entire day there, you could probably get your money's worth. I sometimes think that we are trying way too hard to entertain Leilani, since she's just a baby and has no idea what's going on. I think a spent toilet paper roll would serve as a pretty good replacement for some of the things we do with her. She would probably derive just as much entertainment from it. Oh well, maybe we're using her as an excuse to do things we wouldn't normally admit we want to do. Like go to Discovery World.
Monday, April 12, 2010
This blog is suffering from Twitteritis
I might be blogging here a lot. Several times daily. It may start looking like Ashton Kutcher's Twitter feed.
The only way to get Kalua Pig in Wisconsin
3 pound pork shoulder
1 tablespoon of liquid smoke
1 tablespoon of rock salt
8 hours in the slow cooker set to low
Delish.
1 tablespoon of liquid smoke
1 tablespoon of rock salt
8 hours in the slow cooker set to low
Delish.
Thou Facebook Rulith
About five years ago, I started blogging heavily on my Myspace account. I loved it. It gave me an outlet to spew my thoughts to anyone who would take the time to read it. I was also home alone a lot at the time and it kept my cabin fever in check. Then the internet winds of change shifted and it blew pretty much everyone I knew to a new social network...
Facebook.
I was so reluctant to make the switch. Partly because I could decorate my Myspace profile and that satisfied my "I'm a Designer and I want to make everything beautiful" side. But what really kept me holding on was the ability to blog. Sure, Facebook has the ability to post "notes" on your page which is basically equivalent to blogging, but it just didn't feel the same. So since then, I have been taking a break from the internet opinion factory.
It's just now, years later, that I was reading a random stranger's blog when I finally decided to get off my butt and start writing again. And just like before, it' s mostly dribble. The opinions of someone who doesn't really matter. Trivial things like: the banes of parking lots and what I ate for breakfast. But the fact that you've even read the last three paragraphs of this inaugural post says either you think I'm interesting, you're related to me in some way, or you have nothing better to do than read what I have nothing better to do than write.
Facebook.
I was so reluctant to make the switch. Partly because I could decorate my Myspace profile and that satisfied my "I'm a Designer and I want to make everything beautiful" side. But what really kept me holding on was the ability to blog. Sure, Facebook has the ability to post "notes" on your page which is basically equivalent to blogging, but it just didn't feel the same. So since then, I have been taking a break from the internet opinion factory.
It's just now, years later, that I was reading a random stranger's blog when I finally decided to get off my butt and start writing again. And just like before, it' s mostly dribble. The opinions of someone who doesn't really matter. Trivial things like: the banes of parking lots and what I ate for breakfast. But the fact that you've even read the last three paragraphs of this inaugural post says either you think I'm interesting, you're related to me in some way, or you have nothing better to do than read what I have nothing better to do than write.
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