We have enough interest that the Peep Show will go on! It will be smaller than previous years, but that is okay. :)
All-O-ver, Ol-i-vore . . . we're learning that Oliver's name has some fun mispronunciations.
Also, ask him what is name is and this is what you'll hear: "My name is Oli . . . Oli . . . Oliv . . . Oli . . . I don't know."
Here I am at SFO. Again. What should have been a 40 minute layover has turned into a 5 hour layover with merely a possibility of getting on the red-eye at 10:30. Flying standby. And if I don't get on the standby flight . . . they tell me my next shot at JFK isn't for 24 hours. Yeah. So let's hope that doesn't happen. And if I don't get on standby, well, there's got to be another way home.
S: Oliver, Is Mom a child of God?
O: Yes!
S: No, Mom is a grown up!
The one night -- ever -- when Micah and I get to bed at 10:00 and could, feasibly, get 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep, Simon wakes up crying inexplicably at midnight and can't go back to sleep, Oliver falls out of bed, and we're all out a couple of hours of sleep. Clearly we need to never try to go to to bed early. It's the only way to get a good night's sleep around here.
We have some friends who have an uncle who does a lot of gardening. He gave them four large bags of carrots. What he expected the two of them to do with four large bags of carrots, besides unload them on to others, I’ll never know. But since the only thing one couple can do with four large bags of carrots is give them away, we were the lucky recipients of one of the bags. We like carrots just fine. We eat them, we put them in soups and chicken pot pies and sometimes we eat them raw, but we were temporarily at a loss as to what we would do with all of our carrots. I say temporarily because it didn’t take long for someone (who shall remain nameless) to think that with so many carrots we could probably get a decently sized glass of carrot juice. The other of the two of us was skeptical, remembering that this suggestion was coming from the same person who unwittingly discovered that horchata, when cooked, can form an interesting pudding-like substance. However, since we managed to make some strangely delicious horchata milkshakes out of the said pudding, the skeptical one rem
ained quiet. The skepticism was not unwarranted, however, as we do not own a juicer. We do not know anybody who owns a juicer. We have no means of extracting juice from something as dense as a carrot. But we do “rent” a food processor (it came with our fully furnished apartment), and that was good enough for the adventurous one. So Sunday night found us cutting carrots and putting them in the food processor. Half an hour later, when the large bag was reduced to 2/3 of its original glory, we had a food processor full of carrot “crumbs” and no juice. The adventurous one was undaunted. “All it needs is a little water, you know, to coax the juice out,” was the solution. Five minutes later we had wet carrot crumbs, no juice, and a plateful of peeled and chopped carrots. What do you do with carrot crumbs? What do you do with a plateful of carrots? Ah, carrot cake. Why didn’t we think of that before? We pulled out our cookbooks and searched for the one that needed the most ca
rrots. It took only a few moments to find the recipe that would suit our needs: 2 cups sugar, 4 eggs, 2 cups plus 2 heaping tablespoons flour, 5 cups shredded carrots, 2 tsp. baking soda, 1 1/3 tsp. baking powder, 1 tsp. salt, 1 1/2 cups oil, 2 tsp. cinnamon all mixed up and baked at 350 for about 50 minutes. We were in business. We got to work “crumbing” almost all of our plate of carrots before we reached the 5 cup mark. It took another few minutes to mix everything up, and an hour later–VOILA! A delicious carrot cake emerged from the oven. Slap a little cream cheese frosting on top and mmmm mmmm. Dad, wish you were here.
So you would think that I could figure out which one was the one with all the bright ideas, and all that jazz, but I have to say I was completely stumped, and still don’t know who was which of the adventurous one and the other one.
So true, Dad should have been there.
I’m the same as Abby, only I think I might have an idea as to who is who, but one really does need to know who wrote it, but seeing as there is an aspiring journalist in the house . . . Some other ideas for getting rid of the carrots are carrot pie, carrot pudding (it may be a little chunky), carrot salad, carrot logs (like ants on a log . . . or something), or maybe they should do creative art projects with their plethora of carrots. I’ve just decided carrot is a weird word.
Just make sure you don’t turn yourselves orange with all those carrots! I guess that’s not really something to fear seeing as you turned in into carrot cake, but I was a little concerned when I first started reading that perhaps that was the unwelcome outcome. I am a carrot lover!