May 17: Super Terrific Happy Thing #15

When I first decided to do super terrific happy thing posts, I made a mental note not to write all of them about food. That is me MAKING A SACRIFICE, people! Once in a while is okay, but I wanted to make myself think a little beyonder (a made-up word just for you, Fancy Lori™) and write about super terrific happy things that don’t necessarily end with YUMMY YUMMY IN MY TUMMY.

I made it as far as my third super terrific happy thing post before it became a food one. Shut up.

Dutch Babies (some people call them German pancakes)

I can’t remember where I first ate a Dutch Baby, but it had to have been at a friend’s house because my mom never would have let me sprinkle that much powdered sugar on my breakfast at home. I ordered a Dutch Baby at Elmer’s the other day and had forgotten how much I enjoy them, so I dug out my recipe when I got home. I got this from a long-gone local coffee company and have been using it for about 25 years.

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Dutch Babies

PAN SIZE	BUTTER	EGGS	MILK AND FLOUR
2-3 quarts/11” pan	¼ cup	3	¾ cup each
3-4 quarts/11” pan	⅓ cup	4	1 cup each
4-4½ quarts/13” pan	½ cup	5	1¼ cup each
4½-5 quarts/15” pan	½ cup	6	1½ cup each

1. Select the recipe proportions to fit your pan and get out ingredients.
2. Put butter in pan and set into a 425° oven.
3. Quickly mix batter while butter melts. Put eggs in food processor and whirl at high speed for one minute.
4. With motor running, gradually pour in milk, then slowly add flour. Continue whirling for 30 seconds.
5. Remove pan from oven and pour batter into the hot melted butter.
6. Return to oven and bake until puffy and well browned, 20-25 minutes.
7. Dust with ground nutmeg and serve with powdered sugar and lemon wedges.

Jen’s notes:

• When I first started making Dutch Babies at home, I didn’t have a food processor so I used a blender. Now I have a food processor but I think the blender works just as well and it’s a lot easier to clean.
• I’ve never in my life had nutmeg on a Dutch Baby. I’ve always used lemon juice and powdered sugar. I had strawberry compote topping at Elmer’s and liked it very much, and am now thinking of all sorts of directions I could take the fresh fruit thang… mmmmmm…
• I’d be curious to know of anyone who’s tried this with savory toppings. Good? Better? Too omelet-y?
• I recommend sausage or bacon as a side. Dutch Babies can be sweet.
• If you add raisins to this recipe I will come to your house and kill you.

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Here’s how the completed Dutch Baby looked when I took it out of the oven:

The sides were a little taller before it cooled. Notice the pools of melted butter in a few spots; they signify extreme deliciousness. Here are lots more photos of Dutch Babies. And here are lots more recipes. Take your pick.

Dutch Babies are super, terrific, and they’re a thing that makes me happy. YUMMY YUMMY IN MY TUMMY.

May 17: Baldness, baby vs. adult

This morning I found these old baby pictures. They were taken at a stage in my life when bald was an okay way to go. Time for some compare and contrast, don’t you think? I think. I do. Here goes.

This picture was taken February 6, 1969 and I have no idea why that date was significant enough for my mom to write it on the back. Kathy (on the left, glaring) was 4½ years old; I was 4½ months old.

I went through all 184 of the extreme baldness shots from a couple weeks ago to find a similar angle to my pose above. It took a lot of work to get the newer photo grainy and kinda blurry, and as much as I tried to make it look like the crappy photography from the 60’s, I just don’t have the skillz or motivation. As you can see, I have that same huge forehead and overall roundness in both pictures, and that’s the point of this whole stupid example. I just gotta say this: baldness was much cuter at 4½ months than it is at 41½ years, though. Sad face.

      

This next photo was taken at the same place (note that snazzy wallpaper again) on March 4—my dad’s 27th birthday. See his pipe in the ashtray in front of him? I’m kinda surprised he put it down for a few minutes to unwrap his gifts. I was 5½ months old here. I think the other kids are Daniel, Kathy and Rhonda. The white spots on Dad’s tie, the gift, and coming out of his forehead are parts of the photo that bubbled off. (What, doesn’t everyone store precious family photos on their stove?)

Y’know what bugs me about this picture? I totally have hair! That ain’t a shadow, that’s real hair! So I’m balder now than I was at 5½ months old. That is so not funny.

Again, I tried to make the photo grainy and blurry and torn, like the original. Not even close. Oh well.

  

In both pictures, the amount of space between the top of my ear and the top of my head is way off compared to the space between the bottom of my ear and my jawline. Aren’t ears supposed to be on the side of one’s head, not on one’s neck?

I’m friggin’ FRANKENSTEIN.

May 16: Art, all coffee-like

I was kinda artsy this weekend. Kinda. I finally tackled two projects I’ve been wanting to get to for a long time. It wasn’t that I had a sudden burst of energy, but they were both fun (mostly) and that’s what got my butt in gear.

One project was spiffing up an old, ugly bulletin board to use in our kitchen. I’m not a big fan of the cluttery bulletin board look, but I’ve also gotten tired of looking for important papers the kids insist they put on my desk last week. We’ve been needing a gathering place for those things. I primed and painted the plain wood frame, and then used spray adhesive to cover the cork board with this fabric, which we’ve used in several other places in our kitchen:

I have one small thing left to do before this is finished—I need to glue ribbon or cord to the inside edge to cover up the raw edges of the fabric where they didn’t quite get under the edge of the frame, dammit. Actually, this will make it look a little fancier (if a bulletin board can ever look “fancy”) so it’s not such a bad thing.

Alright, so I probably wouldn’t even bother mentioning this project if not for the other one I worked on, because the bulletin board is kinda lame and not all that impressive. But the other one was a lot more work and it’s kinda like, um, super cute.

I’ve had these coffee art transfer thingies for years and haven’t known the best place to put them. I finally chose a spot and set of colors and got to work.

Step 1: Use a popsicle stick to transfer the outline of the image onto the wall. This is tricky when your walls are heavily textured like ours, and also when the transfers are many, many years old. Victor and I cursed a little over this step, but here’s what it looked like when we finished:

I don’t know why our walls look that taupe-y color in the pictures. They’re actually a nice, creamy coffee color.

Step 2: Paint the center image. I used the colors that are in our kitchen rug: navy, dark red, dark olive, light olive, off-white, and brown. There are nine images total (three of each of the above).

Step 3: Use a popsicle stick to transfer the accent layer to the painted images. Again with the swearing! I ended up doing a lot of touch-up with white and black paint to fill in the spots where the accent transfer wouldn’t transfer. Here’s how three of the images looked when the project was complete:

And this is the whole set:

The place I chose for this art is up high and necessitated the use of a ladder. Anyone who’s been paying attention knows this formula: Jen + high places = certain injury. I only ALMOST fell three times, and have just one blister and three raw knuckles. But no broken bones! No trips to the emergency room! Very few tears! Just lots and lots of cursing!

May 15: Ouchie.

One of the things my oncologist said at my last appointment is that I need to get off pain pills because the tumor has become so small, there’s no reason for me to have any pain. This, of course, is bullshit. I still have pa-lenty of pain. I am still incredibly uncomfortable if I lie flat on my back. No, I’m not sleeping on the couch, sitting up straight, like I did for most of last year. But there is a surprising amount of pain in my back, and while the tumor might have caused some or most of it, I’ve recently begun to guess that there’s another reason for that pain too.

I’ve been careful not to take Vicodin on a regular basis, so as not to risk my body depending on it. Now that I won’t be taking prednisone, I probably won’t need Vicodin as often; hopefully Advil will take care of the everyday stuff. I’m trying not to think about what I’ll do if it doesn’t. I’m not a huge fan of pain and the grouch it turns me into (pssst… nobody else is either).

I did the recommended six weeks of physical therapy in the hopes that it would help. I loved my physical therapist, but I honestly don’t think the stretching and strengthening exercises did me a bit of good. My back hurts enough on a normal day; when I do PT Lisa’s assignments, it gets worse. I’ve almost completely stopped doing them at home.

In the past, Dr. O has suggested that I lose weight to help with my back pain. It makes sense that weight loss would make a difference. I’m not an idiot—I know I’m a big fat pig. But at my last appointment she said being overweight is the only reason I still have back pain. The only one? Really?

Last year, when my back pain began to get severe, I hadn’t just suddenly gained 50 pounds. In fact, I’d been at my current weight for a few years at that time (sadly), so y’know what? I have a teensy problem with Dr. O’s analysis. Yes, my excess weight most certainly contributes to my overall body pain, energy level, and preference not to leave the house. But there’s no way my oncologist will convince me that now that OJ is virtually gone, my weight is the only reason I still have pain. There *is* another reason for it. I don’t suspect it’s anything serious, but I also think I need to see someone other than an oncologist to figure out what it is.

And I don’t want to be weight-ist, but it might also help to see a physician who’s not a friggin’ size TWO and somehow manages to work in that fact at each visit.

Victor’s agreed to do the eating-healthier and exercising-more thing with me, so Friday morning we sent the kids off to school and headed out for a long walk together. My calves haven’t stopped screaming since. We have an elliptical trainer I’ve been using—my calves aren’t fond of that torture machine either. I know the muscle pain will disappear eventually, so I’ve been pushing myself through it and continuing to exercise. The achiness has now extended up into my hips and arse, and I’m walking around like an old woman—a whiny, complainy, very old woman.

So, yeah… yay Jen for exercising while feeling like ca-rap to get healthier. Hey hey hey. Whatev.

May 14: IDCEAYWTPFriday

I’m a little late posting today, but it is indeed time again for I Don’t Care Enough About You to Write in Transitioning Paragraphs Friday.

• Sunny weather today. Gorgeous. Warm, even hot at times. It was perfection. Everyone’s so happy, too. We Northwesterners have needed this oh-so-much, after too much rain and grey skies and tears and depression and thoughts of moving to tropical locales in which there are no pine trees and that’s a terrible idea I know but bad bad bad things come into one’s head after such a long winter.
• I just started reading a book that is totally making me LOL. If you’re anywhere near my age (40-ish and thanks LOADS for making me say so, by the way), you’ll probably enjoy it too. The first chapter, on Barbies and Donny & Marie dolls, had me almost peeing my pants because I was laughing so hard, but since I’m only in my early 40’s I don’t pee my pants laughing. Yet. The book is Why Girls Are Weird, by Pamela Ribon. I saw it on my friend Debi’s list of favorite books so I had to get it because (as Victor says) I always get what Debi gets.
• I don’t always get what Debi gets. For instance, um, I can’t think of anything.
• But I’m still gonna insist Victor knows not of what he speaks.
• Somebody asked me the significance of Erik Estrada up there saying, “It’s Friday.” There is none. The image just made me giggle when I found it, and it’s still making me giggle so I’m still using it. It takes very little, sometimes, to make me giggle. It’s pathetic, but it is true.
• Here’s something just for Fancy Lori™, who frequently accuses me of using incorrect forms of words:
  
  
  I stand by my statement that “funner” is a word—a perfectly cromulent word.
• Today we took our dogs for a long walk. They are officially the worst walkers EVER in the history of dogs. I kind of don’t like them very much when we walk them, which is why we don’t walk them very often. I know, that probably makes us the worst dog owners EVER in the history of dog owners, but I promise that we give our dogs lots of love when they’re at home. We even let them on the furniture, but we draw the line at feeding them with forks.
• Yes, Law & Order is officially cancelled. I don’t wanna talk about it.
• Sunshine and I went out for fun times today. We started at Barnes & Noble (new books! YAY!) and then had a tasty lunch at Panera. After that we went to Cold Stone Creamery, where we ordered way too much Birthday Cake Remix for Sunshine’s belated birthday celebration. Here’s a hint: share it. The Birthday Cake Remix is sweeter than ANYTHING and will make you very, very thirsty. This is how we all looked when we left Cold Stone:
  
  
  OK, I was the only one that bald, but we were all in a sugar coma. It was kind of awesome and also really quite sad.
• A couple weeks ago I ran across a web site called Shit My Kids Ruined. It’s exactly what it sounds like—lots of photos of things ruined by children. There’s another one called Shit My Pets Ruined. You can probably figger out what’s on that site.
• Here’s something I don’t like: sometimes, when it’s two hours past the kids’ bedtime and Vic is playing Mario Kart with them as if he’s the coolest dad ever, I finally have to say it’s time to go to bed and all three of them go “Awwwww!” and glare at me like I’m The Ogre Mom. I’m pretty sure Vic just doesn’t like being the bad guy, but it’s possible he never learned how to tell time. Sometimes I think he just doesn’t pay attention. When Katie was a baby, she would frequently cry and cry and cry and he would be watching baseball or Baywatch or Golden Girls and somehow totally tune her out until she would cry for so long, she was absolutely inconsolable. And she was usually crying about something important, like hunger or unmatching clothes or stupid TV. How does he not notice stuff? I would LOVE to be able to not notice stuff.

I’m going to go read more of Why Girls Are Weird now. If you hear any really, really loud laughing, it’s me and I apologize. I’m sure you’ll fall asleep again soon. G’night.

May 13: Swagger Wagon

This video is pretty funny. I can easily picture Jim and April doin’ the Swagger Wagon Rap in their Sienna, and a very embarrassed Emma and Trevor begging them to stop.

May 13: TV/Movie questions

OK, this is kind of a fun meme in which you answer a set of questions about your favorite TV show or movie. It was hard for me to choose just one TV show or movie, so I didn’t.

My first set of answers is for Law & Order: Special Victims Unit.

• The first character I fell in love with: Probably Elliot Stabler (Christopher Meloni).
• The character I’m most like: Olivia Benson (Mariska Hargitay), I suppose… I’m not as much of a hardass as most of the DA’s, and there aren’t very many non-victim female characters on SVU. I’ll say I’m most like Olivia.
• The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Fin (Ice-T). He talks like he’s Mr. Tough Guy, but he rocks the sweetness every once in a while.
• The character I’d like to punch in the face: A lot of the defense attorneys are dicks, but I’d say the criminals are most deserving of my fist.
• My favorite characters: Fin, Dr. Huang (B.D. Wong), and Elliot & Olivia, of course.
• My favorite couples: Are Munch (Richard Belzer) & Fin considered a couple? Their banter cracks me up the most.
• The coolest thing about the show/movie: I like seeing the cops work so hard to catch the bad guys. I like to think our local police force is so dedicated, but for all I know, they’re a bunch of Chief Wiggums.
• The lamest thing about the show/movie: The bad guy is never the first guy they suspect! Don’t they watch the show they’re on???
• What happens in my favorite episode/scene: Can’t think of one particular episode I love. I like most of them, but I don’t watch them over and over.
• Least favorite episode/scene: Just about any episode in which a child is the special victim is one I don’t like so much.
• My favorite celebrity guest/cameo: Carol Burnett was reeeeally good.
• Best music (if any)? This show isn’t exactly known for its musical numbers.
• My favorite quote: Crime shows aren’t exactly known for their fine scriptwriting. I’d say if I have a favorite quote, it’s probably something Munch said—he seems to be the cleverest.

My next set of answers are for Modern Family.

• The first character I fell in love with: Manny (Rico Rodriguez)! He’s adorable.
• The character I’m most like: Claire (Julie Bowen), definitely. She tries really hard, but she’s totally frazzled.
• The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Jay (Ed O’Neill). He reminds me of my dad—he seems like he’s a jerk, but his soft side comes through just often enough that you can see he’s pretty much a big marshmallow.
• The character I’d like to punch in the face: Haley (Sarah Hyland). That’s mean, isn’t it? But she deserves it sometimes—she can be such a brat.
• My favorite characters: Weird, but I like them all, except for Haley.
• My favorite couples: Is there a cuter couple than Mitch (Jesse Tyler Ferguson) and Cameron (Eric Stonestreet)? I adore them.
• The coolest thing about the show/movie: I love that the three families, as different as they are, are still very close and socialize often.
• The lamest thing about the show/movie: Its season is almost over. That sucks.
• What happens in my favorite episode/scene: I liked the one where Jay and Cam touched butts in the locker room—the “moon landing.” (“You’ve got a name for it???”)
• Least favorite episode/scene: Can’t think of any. I thoroughly enjoyed this show all season.
• My favorite celebrity guest/cameo: Fred Willard was pretty perfect as Phil’s (Ty Burrell) father.
• Best music (if any)? Duh! It’s got to be “In the Moonlight (Do Me).”
• My favorite quote: Cameron: “Mitchell is an amazing lawyer. My dream for him is that one day he’ll be on the Supreme Court.” Mitchell: “Why, Cam?” Cameron: “So at parties I can tell everyone my partner is one of the Supremes.”
  
  I also love this one by Phil in the pilot episode: “I’m hip, I surf the Web, I text. LOL: Laugh out loud. OMG: Oh my God. WTF: Why the face?”

Feel free to play along in a comment or your own blog.

May 12: Read this author

Last year my friend Deanna recommended The Wonder Spot, by Melissa Bank. I thought it was a pretty good book—an easy read, likeable characters, all that. If there’s one negative thing I can say about it, it’s that The Wonder Spot could easily fit into the category of chick lit, and I’m not a huge fan of the genre. However, the quality of Bank’s writing is what appealed to me most. She’s no trashy novelist.

Her first novel, The Girl’s Guide to Hunting and Fishing, was hugely popular, or so I’ve heard. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s on its way to me right now. Once I’ve got The Girl’s Guide in my hands, if it’s worth mentioning, I promise you’ll hear about it.

The reason I bring up this author is that today I found a quote of hers that I appreciate tremendously:

During chemo, you’re more tired than you’ve ever been. It’s like a cloud passing over the sun, and suddenly you’re out. You don’t know how you’ll answer the door when your groceries are delivered. But you also find that you’re stronger than you’ve ever been. You’re clear. Your mortality is at optimal distance, not up so close that it obscures everything else, but close enough to give you depth perception. Previously, it has taken you weeks, months, or years to discover the meaning of an experience. Now it’s instantaneous.  ~Melissa Bank

Bank’s father had leukemia and she watched him go through chemotherapy, so she knows of what she speaks. More impressive is that she was able to learn such an important lesson from this observation. I kinda like her now more than ever.

May 12: Hair watch #1, Day #1

Mother Mary suggested I do a regular photo update on my hair growth. Good idea, huh? They say after chemo that people’s hair often comes back a different color or texture, so it’s all very mysterious and fascinating to those directly involved. Not so much to anyone else, and for that, I apologize. But it’s my blog, and I can show my hair if I want to.

When I had a full head of hair, I had a VERY full head of hair—my hair has always been thick. Depending on its length, my natural curl has shown itself in different ways. When it was short, it could be quite curly; when it was long, it tended to weigh down the curl and had just a slight wave. But after my dad died, my hair turned really, really curly. My hairdresser was shocked at how much the texture changed. I’ve read that grief can do that to a person, but it’s kinda funny because Dad always hated my hair curly. So maybe *he* gave me cancer!

We’re calling today Day #1 of hair growth. It’s been 15 days since my last chemo and that’s when any hair that’s grown since the previous chemo falls out again. Also, since yesterday was the day we got official word that chemo is done done DONE, it seems right to start from scratch today. So here goes… maybe we’ll do this monthly until it gets interesting-er.

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Alright, I wrote that stuff above and then took a picture of my noggin. I’m not sure now that this is such a good idea. I mean, I don’t think anyone else will care, but the sight of my hair growth (or currently, lack thereof) is going to send me into a deep depression in which I age dramatically in a very short time. Because OMG, look at the top of my head:

Do you see all those grey hairs??? Check them out in a close-up:

Here’s a close-up with helpful notations:

Really, really bad idea, Mother Mary. You are totally paying for the therapy I’m going to need after this. And I may just send you the bill for my hair plugs too.

May 11: Buh-bye, OJ

I just got home from seeing the oncologist. There were really no surprises, but it was mostly good news so I’m not complaining a bit. Well, maybe a teeny-tiny bit.

OJ is now the size of a kumquat, a large olive, or a shooter marble, depending on what makes the most sense to you. To me, a kumquat is just a funny sounding fruit that, for all I know, could be the size of a watermelon. I prefer the olive comparison.

I’m done with the CHOP-R chemo regimen (hooray!), but I’ll be continuing the ‘R’ (Rituximab) for six more months. It’s a targeted drug and should kill off the last of OJ, as well as lower the risk of OJ’s reappearance. Dr. O said with the high grade lymphoma that I have, recurrence is most likely in the first two years after treatment, so this will help keep OJ at bay.

I’m thrilled that the CHOP part is done, because that was the killer stuff. My hair should start growing back. My pain in the week after chemo should stop. The tingling in my fingertips, mild nausea, and heart damage should go away, or at least not get worse. However, while Rituximab *is* pretty awesome, it still has some of the sucky side effects of the other killer chemo drugs:

• skin rash (I sooo hate this)
• low blood counts (makes me tired, susceptible to infection, and overall kinda snarly)
• confusion (we cancer chicks call this CHEMO BRAIN and it is real, no matter what Kim F’n says—right, Brenda and Kari???)
• mouth sores (ouch)
• lightheadedness, falls (the lightheadedness sucks, but let’s be honest—the falls would happen even without the Rituximab)
• skin redness, blistering, peeling (super-duper! love this.)
• muscle aches (…remind me again why this is considered a less annoying drug?)
• night sweats (great, I get to keep waking up thinking I’ve peed the bed)

I do not love these things, and I am not thrilled about continuing to experience them for six more months. But the idea of these side effects being less severe is not so bad. We’ve got to get rid of OJ somehow. I guess I’m on board.

Sometime in the near future I’ll have an echocardiogram to see how much the Adriamycin farked up my heart. I’ll continue on the same chemo schedule and get the Rituximab every three weeks, but I won’t have blood work done every time, nor will I need to see the oncologist every time—this means that my appointments will be a lot shorter. My time in the chair will be a little shorter, but not much; Rituximab is administered rather slowly. We’ll check out OJ—or, more accurately, the spot where OJ once lived—with another CT scan after six months.

Generally speaking, we got very good news today. We are pleased.

Now, when am I getting that medicinal marijuana? I’ve been waiting oh-so-patiently…