Happy Birthday(s) Big Snoot and Molly!

Now come on girls, hold onto your hats and handbags, I didn't forget... It might be 8:47pm on your birthdays, but I wouldn't dare rest my head without wishing you both HAPPY BIRTHDAY!


First, my big cousin (second from the left). Well, she's not really big, she is actually quite smallish. When I say, "big," I just mean older. Ahhh, yup, older. That's one thing I always have on her. Gotta love it. But, here's the deal. This smallish-big cousin of mine has been around, well, since my induction to this world in 1977. I have the pics of her, dons her go-go boots, holding me when I was just a wee lil' baby. (I wish you could hear me giggling...) Somewhere, somehow, back in time we became Snoots. I think it all started with her snail mail notes. Always the pen(wo)manship I aspired to have and always a Boynton card. Aways greeting me as Little Snoot and signing off as Big Snoot. It's just always been that way and I love it, love her, love that no matter what I do she is stuck with me cuz I'm fam (and bigger than her in a physical stature kinda way which means I can be the bully). Good times, bad times, times of too many vodka/soda/splash of cran whatever the hell it is you drink, she's my Big Snoot. Love you and happy birthday.

Now, to my Moll-Doll. I dare you to find a kinder hearted woman this one here. It's not possible, they don't just make em any better! Here's the deal. Have you ever run across a person who looks in your eyes and genuinely cares (and listens) to what nonsense your sayin? The kind of person who seemingly knows exactly what to say in most any situation to make you feel better? The kind of person you are just drawn to because they emit positive energy? This is Molly. An incredible woman, a loving soul and true-blue keeper-of-a -friend. Loves and hugs and well wishes to you Molly, happy birthday too.

Sunday Dinner

So most nights it's pretty casual 'round my casa. We may fire up the grill, but then again we may just have a bowl of cereal with bananas. I wouldn't necessarily call myself a gourmet even on my best culinary days, but every once in a while I hit the nail pretty square on the head. Sundays are usually my days to spend a little more time on dinner and try out some new, and old favorites, from the oodles of recipes I hoard. Sunday I set out to try Pioneer Woman's Baked Lemon Pasta. But, I needed to make my own mark on this noodly-mess-of-complex-carbohydrates. Pardon me while I toot my own horn, but it totally rocked. It so rocked it had this effect on my family. Totally not kidding. And just for fun cuz he loves it when I post pics like this... Eat yer heart out (and a bowl full of pasta.).

My variation to the, "P-dubya Woman's," Baked Lemon Pasta...

At least double the amount of garlic she calls for. I mean come on it's Sunday, it's a must. Next time I'm skipping the parsley, cuz it's like eating rough air, and I'm totally going basil. I LOVE BASIL. Lastly, I sauteed some HUGE shrimp, bought from some weird door to door Schwans-wanna-be, in garlic/butter and placed them atop the mound of garlic-lemon goodness just before serving. Mmmmmmmmm, gooooooooood.

A Monday Giggle.

I don't care who you are... whats not funny about this?!?

This is TWINS territory!

So, the other weekend a troop of true-blue Twinkies fans (and a few stinky Brewers fans too:) took in 9 innings for the final season of MN baseball in the inflatable toilet. I tried my hardest to get noticed by Bert. I do hereby pronounce Bert a stupid poop for not circling me. Final answer. I even hooked Lola up with a sign since she made the long, hard trek from the lone star state. He didn't see her either. I might be willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, since perhaps the nosebleeds are out of camera range. What ever makes you feel better, right? Pman found a little comfort in a root beer float and a bag of Cracker Jacks. Patrick ate one of those ever famous sundaes consumed via wooden spatula. No word on when either of the tike's came down from their sugar induced highs. Also, no word on how many $6.75 Miller Lights were consumed... Gotta keep ya guessin'.

Sweet Peas and Tater Tot.

PART 1
"Me and Ellen is just like peas and carrots."

Well, it may not be a farm by your standards, but is sure is by mine. Year two and we are older, cuter and wiser. Remember last year when the pumpkins hung from the corn stalks and the zucchini nearly suffocated the melons? No need to tell us twice. We've lived, learned and invited our resident horticulturist, Mark. No, I'm not kidding. He's a pro. Proven by some sort of gibberish regarding two rows of corn instead of one for cross pollination. I know! We also got smart and and opted for power vs turning the earth by hand. We planted in proper rows, sections and mounds as necessary. We fenced the tomatoes with proper gates instead of PVC, 2b4's and other sturdy construction materials. So here's the roster for the garden 2009: sweet corn , tomatoes (cherry, heirloom, big boy and yes even a few yellow ones), the chives are alive, cilantro, numerous varieties of peppers (ranging from red bell to burn your eyeballs out habanero), green beans, onions, carrots, cucumbers for canning, cucumbers for slicing, melons and sweet peas. So yah, hose off your farmer feet, cuz that's that.

PART 2
"Movin' dirt and labrador retrievers."

So sweet peas are, well sweet, but you ain't seen nothing till you catch a look at our four-legged farm hands. Roll call! You 'member Foster, right? Lil, Zoom was getting some extra care at the doggie hospital-happy to report she is doing well. Here'z Miss Kato. But I'm pretty sure you haven't got a good look at Tater Tot. Ah, corn shucks, she's got the cutest smile I've ever seen. She's sassy, she's spunky and she's got a face a labrador loves.