The First Sign of Summer? Pea Salad!

I have foggy memories of eating this salad as a kid. Very foggy. My mother was into health food way before it became popular, so she NEVER would have made this. I must have sampled this ambrosia at some friend's house.



Whose mother grinds her own wheat for homemade bread? Mine! She also tried to pass off carob whole wheat cookies as chocolate chip cookies. This was just cruel and I'm sure she could have done time for child abuse if I had been strong enough to report her. My ridiculous fat and sugar free diet made it hard for me to gather the strength to dial 911. The woman used to buy this freshly ground peanut butter from the health food store. It tasted like wallpaper paste and had the same consistency. I used to dream of the day that I would be able to buy Kraft peanut butter and smear it on gooey white bread. I never even knew Wonder Bread made hamburger buns until I met my husband. My mother always made these uber whole wheat buns and that is what was served on hamburger night (Hamburger that she ground herself to control the fat content). The woman was mad!

This salad has no nutritional value. It has lettuce, tomatoes and peas but the cheese, bacon, and Miracle Whip cancel out the health benefits of the vegetables. Thank God! I make this all summer long at the cabin and it lasts about 1/2 hour each time. Competition can get ugly so you need to get in there fast and make sure you get a big enough portion.

To enjoy, follow these idiot proof instructions:

• Finely slice, wash, and spin the hell out of a head of iceberg lettuce. DO NOT use romaine. Ewwww!




• Layer the lettuce on the bottom of a clear bowl. The clear bowl is to ensure your guests Ohhh and Ahhh over your creative capabilities.




• Thinly slice purple onions and layer them on top of the lettuce.




• Add a layer of thawed frozen baby peas (one small bag should do it). I take them out of the freezer about 1/2 hour before I need them.




• Add a layer of diced tomatoes.




• Mix 2 cups of Miracle Whip (For God's sake don't use light!), 1 tablespoon of sugar, 3 tablespoons of cheap Parmesan cheese, and 2 tablespoons of milk. Layer that artistically over the tomatoes.




• Put a layer of shredded medium cheddar and follow that up with a lovely sprinkling of bacon bits.




• Hide it in the back of the fridge behind something disgusting so your family doesn't see it.




• Take your portion before you serve it to your family.

Enjoy!

Kentucky Fried Chicken: The Not So Silent Killer

When I was a stay-at-home mom, I used to make the trek to see my sister in Saskatchewan on a fairly regular basis. To most people, this might seem crazy because my sister has 6 children and I have 2 and getting them together means we are outnumbered. I was never afraid though, my sister has arms like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2, so I knew she could protect me if things got ugly. I once watched (emphasis on watched because there was no way I was helping) her haul railroad ties around the backyard, while 8 months pregnant, so she could make her kids a huge sandbox.






My sister is a sucker for punishment. Despite the fact that she has a herd of children, she would always be inviting more over to play or sleepover. I mean, what kind of sick masochist does that? My sister, that's who. Her reasoning, which turned out to be completely sound, was that if you have more over you hardly see your own because they are too busy with their friends to bug you. Genius! It works like a charm. So when I got there I would only catch fleeting glimpses of my children. Usually, when they wanted to eat. This brings me to the whole thing of Kentucky Fried Chicken being a not so silent killer.





This particular event happened during a summer visit. The weather was lovely and the kids were busy running around outside. My sister and I formed our plan. We would tire them out, feed them lunch, and send them off for their naps. Once they were in bed she would race off and pick up Kentucky Fried Chicken for JUST the two of us. We would enjoy our meal in peace in the backyard and we wouldn't have to share. Now, this might sound very selfish but when we would take the kids to a restaurant we were guaranteed three things: we would go broke feeding them all, we could count on them filching food from our plates, and after the meal the table would look like a war zone and we would have to slink out in shame. Now and then, a mother just wants to eat a meal in peace without the risk of dirty little fingers stealing the best bits off her plate. We also would like to eat our entire meal without spills, fights, and tears. That day, victory was within our grasp.





Kids tired, fed, and tucked in. My sister hopped in the van and sped off to the only KFC in town. I made sure the little terrorists stayed in bed and fell asleep. Just as they were nodding off my sister returned with greasy bag in hand. She had this glassy eyed look that we both get when we know we're going to eat something we know we shouldn't. (My sister and I both have this strange little ritual we perform when we eat something really good: we gently rock side to side, close our eyes, and produce a string of happy sighs. My Dad thinks this is pretty funny.)

My sister barked out orders like the fine military leader she would have made. I was told to grab the coffee and ketchup and meet her in the backyard post haste. We sat down and spread out the bounty, being careful to make sure we divvied up things evenly, and dove in. Now my sister and I had become pretty fast eaters. You have to be when you're a mom. You don't know how much time you'll have so you better move. We were eating at the speed of sound and that's when it happened. My sister started to choke. By the sounds of it she had one huge chunk of chicken lodged in her throat. After some panicked coughing, choking, and a bright red face my sister dislodged the offending chicken and was able to breathe again. I freely admit that I did nothing to help her. I was too busy covering my food from any fallout.







You would think this near death-by-chicken experience would have produced cries of relief and hugs to celebrate her making it through this terrifying event. It did not. We went right back at it but we did slow down. I reminded her that the kids were asleep and this afforded us plenty of time to chew. There was no need to make like foie gras producing geese and shove food down our gullets. So we leaned back in our lawn chairs, basked in the afternoon sun, and sighed our way through chicken, fries, and that really gross green coleslaw that KFC insists on putting in their meals.

Death Match: Predator vs Barney

I freely admit that I mother by the seat of my pants. I'm pretty easy going about most things and leave my kids a fair amount of wiggle room. Despite this fairly lax attitude in most areas, I do have one hot spot. One area I refused to give on. Barney. My kids were not allowed to watch Barney.

Oh, I turned it on a couple of times to check it out but I could literally feel myself getting stupider. If it could affect me that quickly, imagine what it would do to my two innocent children. No, Barney was just plain evil. Don't even get me started on the Wiggles. If you want to have your kids watch a show with gay men on T.V., switch to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy because the Wiggles just give kids the wrong impression. No self-respecting gay man would drive around in a car like that, wearing sweaters like that, singing songs like that. Enough said.

So what is a stay at home mother to do if she boycotts Barney and shows of the same ilk? (Yes, I was a stay at home mom for years and stay at home moms, no matter what they tell you, need to flip on the old blue eyed babysitter once in awhile.) I made the decision that it was time for Predator to make its premiere in our home. Now, some would say that Predator is way too violent for young children to watch and that it will lead to horrible nightmares. I say the nightmares can't be any worse than those caused by some guy in a Barney suit singing that stupid "we all love everybody" song. I feel my kids have learned some very important lessons from Predator and I'm willing to list them:

1. Aliens are not nice and we should stop that whole trying to make contact with them.




2. You can be in a movie like Predator and still go on to be the governor of your state. Hell, Jesse "The Body" Ventura managed to do it after getting a basketball size hole blown through his gut in the movie. Now that's a lesson in perseverance!




3. You can use any of the handy booby trap tricks Arnold shows in the movie in case you are being pursued in the jungle.




4. Covering yourself in wet mud seems to make you invisible to those who are really angry and bent on hurting you. This could come in handy someday. One of your children might end up in a very unhappy marriage with a partner that picks on them constantly. Predator tells us that all you need to do is roll around in some backyard mud and you should become invisible to your overly aggressive partner. John should have used this tactic with Kate.




5. One character has a nervous habit of dry shaving with a pink razor when in stressful situations. This lets kids know that there is always time for good personal hygiene.




6. Predator only hunts those who are armed with weapons. This teaches kids that weapons are bad and owning one could cause a Predator attack. Now that's a good lesson!




7. Predator seems to really like going after those who hang around in large aggressive gangs. The guy on his own seems to have a better shot. Lesson learned? Gangs are bad and you should be your own person and that you don't need large groups of friends to feel safe. Large gangs make you a target for aliens.




8. Learning a second language is just a good idea. You never know when you might be stuck in some Central American jungle with a woman who only speaks Spanish while being pursued by an angry Predator. You don't want to get caught with your pants down on this one. My son is now learning Spanish for this reason alone.




9. Shooting willy nilly at nothing in particular is just a waste of ammunition. Actually, I learned this lesson in the Army Reserves but it is one that everybody should be reminded of now and then.




10. Arnold Schwarzenegger looks mighty fine sweaty and shirtless. Actually, that isn't a lesson for the kids. That was the just the bonus for me when I watched with the kids.

Christmas before last we went on a family trip with the kids to Puerto Vallarta`. We went zip lining at a location where they did a lot of the filming for the movie. Sort of a family pilgrimage. We had a hoot, except for when some guy dressed up as Predator jumped out of the jungle to scare me. I screamed like a woman possessed and almost knocked him out with my zip lining metal thinger. Lesson learned? Predator is very afraid of being hit by metal zip line thinger. Suffice to say that we would NOT have had the same fun on a visit to the Barney set.

The Only Woman I Know Who Wears a Dress to Tree Plant

I was just cruising around Facebook and found a video a friend had posted. I took a moment to watch it. Simple little video she did for an assignment for an Education class she was in a few years ago. I found myself getting a bit teary eyed watching it. The video shows my friend, a physical education teacher, enjoying some everyday activities. The video was meant to inspire students to get moving and enjoy life. If you don't know her, you would take the video at face value. If you ARE lucky enough to know her, you get a little glimpse at what a truly amazing women she is.





I met her years ago while I was doing my B.A. at University of Manitoba. Actually, I didn't meet her at first.....I just watched her. We were both taking classes in Native Studies and I would catch myself staring at her in class. She is truly one of THE most beautiful women you will EVER meet. You can't take your eyes off of her. She would slip into class wearing some Value Village find with her hair styled in a fab faux hawk. Her beauty was effortless and it was obvious that she was totally unaware of it. I had to bring my young son to class a couple of times and he quickly fell in love with her. Desiree was my son's first crush and I take great comfort in the fact that my son shows such incredible taste.




After I was done my B.A., I started on my Education degree. Guess who walked into my first class? Desiree! We recognized each other and I finally got the chance to really get to know her. Turns out, her personality matches her looks. We became friends and I consider myself very lucky to have her in my life. Desiree is one of those friends that you count your blessings you have. This became evident when one of her longtime friends was diagnosed with cancer. Desiree wasn't a friend to cut and run when things got nasty. She stuck. I was in awe of her commitment to her friend. She threw herself into fundraising and even shaved her head and donated her hair for wigs when her friend started chemo. She helped her friend throw an absolutely wonderful social, where we all got the chance to dress up in goofy prom dresses, all to raise money for her friend to fly back and forth to Ontario for experimental treatment. Desiree hung in until the bitter end. Her friend lost her battle and it was agnozing to watch Desiree experience the loss. Even now Desiree stays committed to her friend's memory. She remembers her late friend in a thousand different ways and honours that memory.




So, when I watch this little clip I see glimpses of Desiree particpating in fundraising events for cancer, I also see her play with her gorgeous little niece, rake leaves in her yard, do a little yoga, bike, and throw a football in the park with her partner. I get an extra bonus though, because I know her. I see more. Desiree isn't just performing these physical tasks. She is gracing us with her beauty, goodness, and strength.




Thank you Desiree.



Now enjoy her video:

My Son and the Side Boob Hour

I'm a bad Mom. I let my kids watch hours and hours of Family Guy. I've even purchased season collections for them. Worse is that I watch it with them. As much as possible. Then we drive my husband, who doesn't share our love of the show, insane with our constant references to the show. The quotes drive him right up the wall. This is just an added bonus.

Our favorite episode is PTV. This is the one where Peter, with the help of his dog and his baby, start their own television station. One of the fine shows they air is called The Peter Griffin Side-Boob Hour. A whole hour is devoted to men getting a chance to see some side boob. If you have a son you realize that they pretty much spend most of their time trying to get a look at any kind of boob and side boob ranks pretty high in forbidden glimpses. Actually, my husband says that it isn't just teenagers. All men do this.

My son got his first glimpse of free boob (free boob is our family's term for any boob a man gets to see in a public place without having to pay for it) when we were on a ski vacation in Banff. My husband was packing up the vehicle and my son was playing around at the back of the hotel. By chance, he looked up and there it was: FREE BOOB! A young woman was getting changed right in front of the window without a care in the world I think that, in my son's mind, he must of heard angels singing and harps playing. It was magical. He ran over to my husband to tell him what had just happened. My husband listened and told him that seeing free boob was just like finding a four leaf clover. My son could count on good luck for a long period of time because of it.

I felt lucky for a whole other reason. If he liked boob it meant I might be able to count on a grandchild from the kid. I was NOT worried about my boy being homosexual. I don't care what my kids are as long as their happy. Either way would have been fine with me. But the whole grandchild thing would have been harder and I might have been forced to wait longer. This is bad because I hate delayed gratification. My only worry is grandchild worry. I only have 2 kids and my daughter has made it clear that she will NOT be having children because they will touch her stuff and the mere idea of children touching her stuff is enough for her to say "NO" to the idea of having kids. In the end, I don't care who has one and how they have to go about getting it. I just want one. Sorry, that had nothing to do with side boob. I'll get back to that.

Last summer my son got his first job. He worked at the little grocery store at our lake. The store is full of women in bikinis in the summer. It isn't hard to see why my son likes his job. When he leaves for work he yells that he's off to watch side boob. One day he came home with a story to tell that went beyond the side boob. He had been standing at the counter watching a lovely young lady in a suit a couple of sizes too small for her when the boob gods smiled at him once again. She leaned over and her boob popped out. His vantage point was a definite asset because she couldn't see him looking at her. Low and behold, she didn't even notice right away! Took her a bit. When he told me the story I reminded him that it was a sure sign of good luck. He agreed that he had indeed felt pretty lucky.

Now I suppose that this whole idea of side boob and free boob should go against my feminist belief system. I suppose I should be telling him to never view women as objects of lust. In my own defence, I have raised him to treat women with much respect and that women have the same rights as men. He knows that violence against women is wrong. I should put an end to the notion of side boob and encourage him to look away. Maybe I should tell him to gently let the woman know that half of her hooter is hanging out. Maybe I should tell him to look away quickly if he sees anything remotely side boobish.

No. I don't think I'm going to that. I'm not going to ruin his fun. I'll let his future wife (who I am sure I won't like because she will never love him as much as I do) ruin it for him. I think I will continue to treat free boob and side boob kind of like I treated Santa Claus. Something magical that should be celebrated.

In the Hack with Lululemon

Lululemon claims to make yoga-inspired athletic apparel. Go to the website and you will see happy and healthy people looking great in the stuff. Lululemon has a dark side though. A side it doesn't want you to see or know about. Truth is, Lululemon is just clothing for fat chicks who jut want to wear sweatpants all the time. How could I make that claim? What evidence do I have? Truth is, I'M a fat chick who just wants to wear sweatpants all the time. This is my story.

Despite my yearning to get away with wearing sweatpants all the time, I stayed away from Lululemon. Sure, the pants were nice enough to wear to work but I am just way to cheap to shell out that kind of money. What person in their right mind spends $98 on something called a Groove Pant? Give me $10 and I'll find you a perfectly good pair of sweatpants from Value Village. You're on your own trying to get the Value Village smell out. I only agreed to find them and buy them for you.

I was forced to break my ban on Lululemon (I frequently place bans on places that offend me and then am forced to rescind the ban when my need becomes too great) when I took up the most embarrassing sport known to women. Curling. I am convinced that curling was invented by men so they could see just how huge our asses really are. Curling leaves a woman with very little pride. You get down into that hack (I just used the curling term "hack" here to impress my husband with my ever growing knowledge of curling terms) and you can't hide ANYTHING! So my friend told me I should just waddle on down to Lululemon and they would fix me up with some pants that would cover that whole mess up.

I went at the only time I figured I could buy something at a price low enough not to cause me to rant at one of the granola eating, non-armpit shaving, peace loving, employees. Boxing Day. They actually had a line outside the door with a velvet rope and a doorman. As soon as I made it inside I grabbed some of those fancy Groove Pants and headed to the changing room. I have to confess that I was expecting something pretty spectacular for that price. My sister claims that it hides every problem area. She lied. My laughter could be heard over the din of shoppers. Those suckers didn't hide anything. They actually accentuated every nasty flaw I had and I discovered a few new ones I hadn't known about.

I made another cruise around the store and headed for the clearance rack. That is where I found them. Something I hadn't seen since the 80's. No, not the Thompson Twins. Stirrup pants! Stirrup pants in all their glory. Yes, Lululemon makes stirrup pants. I snapped those suckers up and bravely faced the changing room again. It was then and there that I had my Lululemon moment. They fit, they hid, and they didn't ride up my leg. As well, they have this handy roll up waist that goes mid-back so I no longer have to suffer the agony of curling crack. And you know what? Those things only cost me $29 a pair. So I bought 3.

So, now I am a fat chick who gets to wear sweatpants all the time. Lululemon has not inspired me to become athletic but they have provided me with an inner peace that is supposed to come from yoga. I'm pretty pleased with that.

Olympic Whining-The Newest Event

Olympic whining should be an exhibition sport at the next Olympics because some people are seriously training for the event.The Vancouver Olympics had not even started and people were jumping on the whine wagon. It all started when Georgian luge competitor Nodar Kumaritashvili was unfortunately killed in a training run on a track that folks were quick to call way too dangerous. The opening ceremonies offered a wide range of targets for more complaining. People were late, that whole prairie scene was lame, the arms of the Olympic cauldron malfunctioned, and then (for shame) Wayne Gretzky travelled in the back of a truck to light the cauldron by the harbour. The weather has even come under criticism. How could the Winter Olympics be held in a place that can not promise snow? Bashing these Olympics has become it's own event and I can think of a few folks who should be standing at the top of the podium to get their medals.

Here is a little news flash: people have died at the Olympics before! A cyclist died during a race at the 1960 Summer Olympics in Rome. A British luger died in a trial run at the 1964 Winter Olympics in Innsbruck, Austria. I clearly remember the nasty death of Swiss skier Nicholas Bochatay at the 1992 Winter Games in Albertville, France. This poor guy was just getting in some practice before the end of the games and hit a snow-grooming machine on the way down. I think running into a snow-grooming machine ranks right up there with worst ways to die. Then there was the bombing at Centennial Park during the 1996 Atlanta Games that killed two people and wounded countless others. Of course we can not forget the 1972 Munich Summer Games. Terroists killed 11 Israeli athletes and coaches while the world looked on in horror. These events are barely mentioned when talking about Nodar Kumaritashvili, only complaints about how poorly designed the sliding track in Whistler is and how a death was inevitable. Really? A death in luge was inevitable? What a shock! Sliding down an ice-coated chute at over 100 km an hour with no padding might result in a death? Comes as news to me. Frankly, I'm surprised when sombody does not die during a luge event.

The complaining over the opening ceremonies really gets my goat. It was fantastic and shame on Canadians for finding fault. Sure some stuff was a little cheesy but I can not recall seeing one pretty little Chinese girl lip-synching for a girl deemed too ugly to appear on television like we saw at the Beijing Olympics of 2008. Our opening ceremonies featured the chunky slam poet Shane Koyczan, with full neck beard, on a raised pedestal. No need to hide this guy because he did not fit some coookie cutter idea of perfection. His talent was what brought him there and that is why we should applaud him.

Now I'm reading articles that the ceremonies just were not ethnic enough. The opening ceremonies gave us a glimpse of every part of Canada. It would have been impossible to feature every ethnic group that lives in our country and it is ridiculous even to suggest it. We had a lesbian singer, Aboriginal Peoples dancing and singing, and our gorgeous Hiatian born Governor General Michaelle Jean officially opening the Games. What more do you want? Should they have thrown perogies at the audience? And really, so what if the cauldron did not rise up in the manner intended. In typical Canadian fashion the problem was overcome and we made due. The only person who is allowed to complain about the malfunction is Catriona Le May Doan. She was the only one ripped off.

Finally, the weather. Canada can not control the weather. It just so happens that a warm spell picked this time to appear. The folks involved in the Olympics have knocked themselves out transporting snow to ensure that the games could continue and they have done a great job. All the events at higher elevations are just fine but when you run an event at a low elevation like Cypress you are bound to have problems. Anybody who has ever skied knows that, at this time of the year, spots like Cypress are a crap shoot. Maybe we should be giving ourselves a pat on the back for hosting an Olympics that has worked hard to be as green as possible. At least Olympic organizers did not have to schedule events around air pollution like the Beijing Olympics!

If Canadians can claim one unifying trait it is our eagerness to believe and accept every nasty thing other countries say about us. Stop it right now! I say pull up a chair, grab a fine Canadian beer and enjoy watching our incredible athletes do one hell of a job.