Ok, that after school moment has passed, lets move on to better things.

Things like my favourite new little project.

Remember awhile back, almost a year ago now, when we did a reno that turned a bit ugly?  Remember we were replacing the baseboards and ended up putting on an addition to the kitchen,  preparing food for my family on a table saw and stirring soup with a power drill?  Remember that? And remember when I didn’t know what to do with the pantry so we did nothing?  Well that and the fact that we had no money.  Anyway, we decided we wanted to live with it first to see what we wanted.

I discovered that I prepared a lot of food in that pantry, and that was when it was ill equipped.  I could only imagine what I could do with a proper pantry.  One like Chef Michael Smiths.

It was all a dream thou, because I knew the shelving I wanted wasn’t a real priority for us right now. Then, I walked into my husbands new business, you’ll hear about that soon enough, and I saw the perfect pantry, just sitting there.  I yelled and screamed and said I have to have it, and he said sure I could have it, and that I now reached an all new level of “crazy” that I got this excited about a pantry.

I got it home, cleaned it up and waisted no time painting it. But I could tell, it needed…. something.  Some colour, some graphic, some fun.

Sure I could have ordered wallpaper, but why would I when I found this wrapping paper?  It was perfect and less than 10 bucks.   With a cut here, a cut there, a dab of glue, I had myself a really fun and functional pantry.

I decided that I’d put all my spices and baking things in jars.  Jars that I recycled, got at the dollar store, stole out of the garage and emptied the nails, all kinds of jars of many shapes and sizes.  And I discovered somethings…I have far too much ground ginger for any one person.

You totally know I’m going to do something with these right?

And almond extract.  Who needs this much almond extract?

Anyway, I emptied all my spices, flours and sugars in jars, and I have a real treasure.

Such pretty colours and all for about $50.

And for a dollar for two hooks I found a place to store my rolling pin.  Those things are such a pain in the ass to store.  But look how great it looks!

And the best part is that I found room for all my decorating stuff.

And my oil and vinegar’s.  I have far too many vinegars.

I’m sharing all this with you because it’s the start of a fun little project that I’m doing in November and December, just in time for Christmas.  It’ll be much like this post:  crafty, functional and cheap.

I hope you tune in.

I was at Bayview one day, talking to a friend, when she informed me that she’d heard a rumor about me.  The irony of being in an elementary school when she told me that was not lost, I assure you.  After about 20 minutes, when we stopped laughing at the absurdity of the rumor, I asked where the rumor originated.  While the rumor had no affect on me because of it’s ridiculousness, the originator of the rumor did.

I was hurt.  I felt like I was kicked in the stomach.  I was confused at how this could happen, and why.

This person was not a good friend, but someone who I thought a great deal of.  She’s a good mom.  A good and thoughtful community person.  I had extended many olive branches; always cheerful and happy when I see her and spoke highly of her in others company.  What had I done to her?

My rule is, before reacting to anything, I wait 24 hours.  I went home and cleaned my entire house.  That’s what I do when I’m upset.  I told my husband, who laughed and went on with his day.  How can men react differently than women? Why was he not upset?

I thought about calling or e-mailing, not to yell or scream, but just to say “Why? Why would you do something so pointless, when we have to spend the next 15 years cohabiting?  Why such a hurtful thing that could damage my family?  A family that, while not perfect, is a hundred times beyond my wildest dreams, they’re people who I would never do anything to hurt.  Why would anyone do something so…childish?

I decided to do nothing.  It wasn’t worth it.  As David said, no one would believe it.  After all, if it were true, I’d probably blog about it.  ”To meet you is to know you, Tina, you’re an open book.”  He’s right.

It did make me think about my own role in rumors.  I’m not going to lie.  I have, on occasion, repeated something I’d heard to a trusted friend.  Never have I started a rumor.  How on earth does one do that anyway?  And I have on occasion, gone to someone, as my friend did to me and give them a heads up about something ludicrous that I had heard. But is starting one and repeating one any different?  I’m not sure that it is.

So if you hear something about me, it isn’t true.  Unless of course, it’s that I did or said something really stupid, that I danced on the coffee table at a house party, maybe that I once bummed a smoke, or that I once ran into my husbands trunk in our driveway with my car, or that I unknowingly bounced a check, or that I once believed someone when he told me he was Gregory Peck, the director, who was 35 and Lebanese, that I get my mustache waxed, and colour my own hair.  If you hear anything else, it likely isn’t true.

My father had a saying when we were growing up, and of course when we were teenagers we paid no attention, but it makes much more sense now that I’m an adult.  He’d say, “As long as people are giving you a hard time, they’re leaving another poor bastard alone.”  He’d say it just like that too.

And now that I have some perspective,  I don’t care a bit about any humor.  I’m reminded of what really and truly is important.

My husband is many things.  He’s a great dad, passionate golfer and antique car enthusiast, he loves us immensely and we do him.  And he has some ism’s as we all do.  He suffers from anxiety,  he smokes cigars and is a mild hypochondriac.

Now, I happen to think the last one is a strength.  Why? Because he’s in charge of stocking the medicine cabinet.  I, on the other hand, am in charge of stocking the liquor cabinet.  It’s all about celebrating our strengths.

We actually have a medicine box.  It’s easier to take it out and go through it than if it were a cabinet.  David is very diligent about going through it and making sure we have a remedy for every possibly ailment that the kids may wake from at 3am.  It’s complete with a blood pressure monitor and 3 thermometers, because 2 of the 3 can be broken, you know.   He discards all the meds that are nearing their expiry and if one is coming near the date he’ll buy a replacement.

People in our community have caught wind of his neurotic medicine box behavior.  I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said that on more than one occasion we’ve gotten a call at 1 am asking if we have Tylenol to help reduce a fever, and I wouldn’t be exaggerating either if I said that David’s response is usually, “Do you want medicine or chewable, and do you want grape or cherry?”

Now that we’re entering flu season, I’ll introduce you to…the puke bucket.  It’s just a $3.99 wash bucket from Gow’s that I have in the upstairs bathroom, designated for throw-up only.  It has in it a thermometer, a bottle of Pedialite and Tylenol and it’s convenient to just grab in on the first onset of a belly ache, because as you may know, the flu comes on fairly suddenly.  Plus, if you’re feeling that bad, if seems only fair to be able to throw-up in a clean bucket.

I’m sharing this with you, why?  Well, I had nothing else to write about, I had to dig out the bucket last night on account of the flu, and it’s sort of a public service announcement to get ready for the flu.

Our system isn’t perfect.  We still have to fight over who cleans it out.

I’ve apprehensively embraced this latest stage in my life.  I am now a mini-van mamma…dun dun dun…

It became apparent to us, after having two boys in two different levels of hockey and trying to jam in a couple hockey bags; and after spending this summer golfing and trying in vain to pack 4 sets of clubs, that we are a family that enjoys activities where big things are involved.  a-hummm.

We’ve recently purchased a Toyota Sienna.

I’m not a big car girl.  I don’t know what horsepower it has; and I have no idea if it’s all-wheel or front wheel drive or what the difference is between the two.  All I know is what I care about.  I feel safe in it.  David  read up on it where ever he could, and what we learned just felt right.

Oh- and I care about cup holders.  And it has serious cup-holders.  I was searching through it counting them like it was Easter morning and I was on an Easter egg hunt.  Eight…nine…TEN….TWELVE…OH MY GOD DAVID THIS HAS 16 CUP HOLDERS…CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS!??!?!?! I can drink coffee AND water, and hell, I can even get a tea just incase, AND SO CAN THE PASSENGERS!!!  There are so many cup holders that it really ought to have a toilet.  And then, I drove the car at night, and that’s when I discovered that the cup holders LIGHT-UP Y’ALL!  David thinks they made this vehicle specifically for me.

It has all kinds of other things too.  There’s a camera when you back up just so you’ll avoid running over your offspring…or their bikes.

There is a little mirror just so you can catch your kids fighting- that, in itself, is priceless.  Before my Sienna I was driving without a rearview mirror because I had it pointing directly at them.  And I don’t even have to shut the door, it just does it by itself.  I never realized just how exhausting shutting the door can be.

I knew we’d like a van, but I didn’t realize just how much.  I didn’t realize just how much freedom it would give us.  Each kid can ask a buddy to come with us, and one of my children is not left screaming, “I always knew you loved him more!” Really, this will save us money in therapy.

And check out the trunk.  I can fit a couple-a kids in here…not that I would…I digress.

And while I thought a mini van would leave me feeling…sorta…frumpy…librarian-ish (my apologies to all librarians), I have to say, this van is hot!  I feel sorta… bitchen when I drive it.  Sorta like this woman.  I rarely know where my kids at, but she’s got nothing on my Jello mold!  Just sayin.

I want to give a what-what to the fine folks at Oregan’s South Shore for hookin’ a sister-up.  See, I love my Sienna, it’s turned me all-gangster-bitch up in here.

**I have since been warned by a few fellow foodies that this method of making dulce de leche can be dangerous, and the pressure in the tin can may cause it to explode.  Please do this at your own risk or find another method on the internet.**

I’m a simple woman with simple pleasures.

I like the temperature warm, good cheese, Frenchies, and the occasional special coffee.

In my coffee cupboard, you’ll find a few special bottles that turn a regular coffee into something spectacular.

And then, I discovered Dolce de leche.  It’s spanish for milk caramel, and it’s incredible in coffee, or over a muffin.  You can buy some at the grocery store, but why would you, when for only 2 bucks and in 8 hours simmering on the stove you can make this liquid gold.  Sure, when you account for the power used during 8 hours of cooking, it’s likely more expensive than buying it, however, homemade dulce de leche is much more romanic.

I highly recommend you make some and have it in your fridge for the next few months when you’ll no doubt have guests over, and I promise you, they won’t leave.  Better yet, make a few bottles as gifts.  You will amaze them.

Take a can of sweetened condensed milk, open it ever so slightly, and submerge it in boiling water making sure that it doesn’t go over the top.  Then let it boil, I wasn’t kidding, for 8 hours.  You’ll need to add more water as the hours go by.

Then, you’ll get this:

Take a tablespoon or so of this gold with some other delightful ingredients, Whisky and Kahlua, two of my fav’s, and mix in coffee, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon.

For a fancy presentation for a dinner-party, serve it in a wine glass with a napkin holder.  I use to do this at the Campbell House when I worked there.

Here are the instruction:

Enjoy!

My boys and their buddies ventured down to the Mahone Bay flea market yesterday armed with five bucks each and a challenge.  Their challenge was who could score the best find.

Some got collector dinky cars, and another got a wrestler action figure leaving him enough money to buy a chocolate brownie.

See…to me, that’s a quality shopper.

And what did my Colin buy?  Yet another enormous stuffie.  This makes 300.  It means there is no more room on his bed for him to sleep.  It means I’m itching because I’m sure it’s infested with some creepy, crawly critters.  When I told Colin it would have to sleep outside for it’s first night here because it might have bugs, he responded, “Oh Yeah, I got it at the flea market.”

That was reassuring.

Colin is a lot like his dad, he loves cars.  Evan is more like me.  As long as they go and have cup holders, we’re good.  But Colin gets excited about cars.  Cars, pajamas and food; life according to Colin is all about comfort.

Colin has a Grave Digger go-cart.  I don’t know what that is, but David tells me that many of you will and if you don’t, just ask your husbands, they’ll act like a 10 year old boy.

So during the Scarecrow Festival Car show this past weekend, one that David organizes, it’s seemed like a perfect opportunity for Colin to take his Grave Digger and find out what these car shows are all about.  I thought, if nothing else, this would rid Colin of his car fetish, and he’d realize just how boring these car shows can be.

Colin set up his go-cart and rumor has it that he encouraged all the car show goers to  vote for him for the peoples choice award.  He would let them sit in it in exchange for a vote.  If they said they’d vote for him, he’d give them popcorn.

He won.  He beat David’s cars and other expensive and impressive antique cars.  And now he’s hooked and talking about the next go-card he’s going to make with all David’s old, spare car parts.

But personally, I think he should run for public office.