The final kicker came while watching Jillian Michaels asking someone why they would choose to suck at life.  If awesome is an option, why wasn’t I choosing awesome?

So, I came up with a little test.  Just a simple matrix to determine just how processed my food is.

1. Did I pick it, gather it, milk it, churn it or dig it out of the ground?
2. Can I identify all of the ingredients?
3. Are all of the ingredients known to be food?

If I answer “no” to any of those then I figure that I am eating processed food.

Now, since I don’t have a farm outside of Farmville.  What to do?

Well, the next step would be minimally processed.

If I were in a strange caveman Geico commercial, would the cavemen recognize the food?

Yes, that is minimally processed.  Eggs, once gathered, who knows what happens to them?  They get cleaned, I know that having grown up on a farm.  Farm fresh usually has farm poo on them.  Apples get picked, then apparently waxed, so they are shiny.  Processed. Albeit, minimally.

And so it goes.

Once you get to the point of having a food label, you are getting further along the processed highway.  Although, not all labeled food is highly processed.  Cheese has ingredients.  They should be limited to milk and enzymes.  Once you add “powder” you’ve gone over the edge.

Finally, I should  point out that neither “flavor” nor  “blue”  is a food.  Neither is “red”.  If they are listed in your food, ask yourself WHY?  Why am I eating a color?

Another factor in what I eat has been, “Do I know who prepared this?”  I’m finding I really like to know.  I discovered this after carefully watching gloved fast food workers scratch themselves, rub their noses, you know.  Now, had they not been wearing gloves, would they be more likely to wash their hands after such activities?  Survey says “yes”.  The gloves give them some sort of disconnect, gives them a sense of being protected from germs.  Yes, they won’t get snot on their hands, but the snot is on the outside of the glove.  If you don’t believe me, go watch someone wearing gloves.  You’ll see.

Of course I am not perfect.  I crave nuclear mac & cheese at times.  But the further from my last processed meal, the less I miss them.  Last month, I craved a SALAD.  Tonight I had grilled pineapple on my kosher hot dog.  Best thing ever.  I make the most amazing guac.  I had no idea green enchilada sauce could be so yum.  All of these foods I tried only recently.  And I love them.  The kids love them.  I even sneak sugar snap peas and pineapple to the neighbor boys.

Although in the spirit of full disclosure, I still drink about four cans of Coke a day.

Shut up.   Every time I read the book, the turtle wins.

So, this summer, needing constant entertainment, as well as choreographed dance routines performed to the likes of Justin Bieber and Miley Cyrus, I signed the trips up for Latchkey.  Daycare at the local school.   Because, given the choice of choreographing a dance routine to songs sung by people I deny even exist or allowing someone else to,  I chose the latter.

I’ve been keeping one of the kids home on non-field trippy days.  Monday, Boog and I bought Lego-opolis and he learned new swear words.

Today, I took Felpsy shopping.  He’s the big boy so he’s always in need of clothes, while Boog, always seems to have some,  hmm?  Also, his water shoes had shrunk over the past year and he needed a new pair.  He, however, had envisioned new tennis shoes.  That little breakdown in communication turned into a screaming, crying fit in the middle of the mall.   Leading me to wonder whose idea it was to have kids in the first place.  While quickly resolved, only reminded me that they do not have individual behavior skills.  They are used to group regulation, and with the group gone….mayhem.

We ended up getting a cheap pair of flip flops, and a pair of water shoes.  Both super satisfying, and you’ll be proud of me for not being mean to the Payless person when she asked if I wanted to get a pair for myself.

Umm, have you met me?  Imelda Awesome?  Thought not.  I do not buy shoes at Payless, thankyouverymuch.

On to the shirt buying.

What do you think of this shirt?

I don’t know.  Is it  a cool kid shirt?

I like it.

Can you call Sk8rboi and ask him?

I am uncertain what the “cool kid” shirts are.  I just went through this with Radical.  He does not wear clothing that is not Sk8rboi approved.  So, I am no longer necessary in the clothing department.

In the words of Forrest, Forrest Gump…”I guess that’s one less thing.”

Speaking of shirts.  I got a new one, and there is a bit of pinkish material that sticks out on it a bit, in an interesting location.  I don’t know how many times today I caught a glimpse of myself somewhere and immediately panicked at the thought I was having a “wardrobe malfunction”.   Only then to wonder why I would think that I had left my nipple in the northeast quadrant of my boob.  duh

Still.  Got my heart racing more than once.

One of the other activities Felpsy wanted to do on his special day was to “play cooking show”  or as it’s called in most parts of the world, “cooking.”

In rounding out the all things Felpsy day, he wanted to work the remote in the living room.  Usually he has as much chance getting the remote as he does getting the keys to the nice car.   Sure, it happens, but only when I’ve been drinking.

Anyway, he surfed channels like a guy, approximately 12 channels per minute, and so as not to say a word I took a nap.  All in all it was a good day.  He even held my hand while we walked around town.

Feeling all close and not, I grabbed his hand in the parking lot of the school when we went to pick up the other two.

REJECTED.  He could not get his hand away from me fast enough.

Alright.  Point taken.

Tomorrow is a parenting recovery day.  All kids will be cared for by college students and I will be going for burritos with my friend.  All in preparation for her highness, Little Miss Sunshine herself.  Princess will be staying with me on Friday.  Guess I should get some sleep.

Then, because of the volcano we had to cancel our romantic getaway to Oregon Wine Country because one of us wasn’t going to be in the country?

So, we spent a couple hundred dollars changing our tickets, and a couple thousand buying tickets for the many small children and turned it into a family vacation?

Do you remember this?

And all along, I was hesitant to go to Oregon, had a bad juju feeling about the whole thing.

So, we rescheduled, and AFTER 5.5 years in foster care we were given an adoption date.

DURING THE MIDDLE OF OUR VACATION????

So WE had to pass?

WELL, GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TODAY?

Jury duty.

FEDERAL JURY DUTY.

Right smack dab in the middle of my Oregon vacation.

Oh yes, I checked the box marked many small children and returned it.

Got a letter today and I misquote.

“Too bad, so sad, get your ass in here, (we’ll still excuse you, we just need you to bring birth certificates {that don’t have MY name on them}) and NO, we will not deal with this matter via phone.  You can deal with it on the web, but when you click the button you will only see a message that says “your session has timed out”.

p.s. – WE MAY DECIDE THAT WE DON’T NEED YOU BUT IT WON’T BE UNTIL 6:00 THE NIGHT BEFORE SO PLEASE CALL THE HOTLINE

Throw a fuckin frisbee?  What?  You want me to show up so that I can excuse myself, but you reserve the right to change your mind 14 hours before I get there?  uh uh.

I’m sure it will all work out.

BUT

right now?  Kinda ticked off.

Not that we’ve been granted permission to take the kids out of state anyway.  That being said, if we have to cancel our vacation, again, because I have to appear to be excused from jury duty, and we’d have been here anyway for a court date that we passed on after begging for one for FIVE years, I’m going to take a picture and send it to Alanis, because that my friend….is irony.

Five simple ingredients.  One pan.

• Pasta of your choice.  I used rotini.
• Frozen peas
• Frozen carrots, diced
• Marzcapone cheese
• Cream cheese

Make the pasta as you normally do.  In the last minute of cooking, add the frozen peas and carrots to the water to warm them up.  Drain.  Add a spoonful of each of the cheeses for each serving.  I generally make this for four people, so 1/4 cup of each.

When the cheese is melted through, you are done.

Wasn’t that easy?

and OMgoodness is it yummy.

All of it real, 100% food.  Not orange powder.  Be warned.  If you try this, you will never go back to the orange powder.

Enjoy!

I have hated the PB&J lunch thing since I was taking my Snoopy lunch box to Kindergarten.  I just didn’t have a decent solution, until I saw these…..

Doesn’t that look a lot better?

I got one of these for Tech Support a while back.  I love it.  Want to get me one, not that I need it, but still.  I’m definitely getting one for each of the orphans.  There is an outer box and four inner boxes, plus the little one is for sauce, so that you can separate your fruits, veggies, meats, and sauces.  One of the things that I am a little worried about it the number of pieces, but all the pieces fit into the outer box like a puzzle.  I think that will help with knowing what needs to go back into the box.  It’s either that or three plus plastic bags per kid per day, not something I want to do with four kids taking lunches nearly every day.

As you all know, I am not a fan of the school lunch program.  It’s crap, and at our school they serve it in styrofoam boxes.  I am desperately hoping, now that we are the fattest city in America, that Jamie Oliver comes to our town.  I’m his biggest fan.  Not in the tie him to a bed in the back room until he teaches me to make bruschetta kind of way, (except yeah) Can you blame me?

If a jury of my peers consisted of people who have eaten this, I’d totally get acquitted.

Either way, I know that the same old same old isn’t going to work for us.  I’m looking forward to more lunches like the ones that Tech Support is getting lately.

Recently I have decided that processed food just isn’t working for us. It’s not like I’m going to go all raw, vegan or anything. Just trying to get rid of the MSG and food coloring.

Found a fantabulous looking recipe for a salad.

Yes, a recipe.

For a salad.

Lettuce, avocado, tomato, boiled egg, sugar snap peas, bacon, and steak. YUM. Probably something else, but still, YUM. It calls for Annie’s Green Goddess salad dressing.

My local grocer did not have Annie’s. It had Kr@ft, but the Kr@ft crap was fluorescent green, I don’t know that I’ve seen fluorescent green in nature, so, I decided to make it.

Surprisingly.  Not green.

It’s got chunks of green, but mostly it’s white.  So, in order to keep myself clear of any additional legal issues, I decided against referring it to “my” green goddess dressing.  I am calling it the Chunky White Goddess.  I think that sounds a little more accurate to me.

I got the recipe from the Google.  I found several that contained ingredients I had on hand, and did a mixy mash of them.

That’s it. Pretty fantabulous.

I added the steak at the table, as steak is best served bloody, and saving a bloody salad? Not advised.

Speaking of Felpsy, he’s graduating from Kindergarten.  Hey sport, way to master the ABC’s and the 123’s which you already knew, and since buying a cap and gown for Kindergarten graduation would be STUPID we just need to go and buy you some “Sunday best” which is discrimanatory against heathens.  I’m not a heathen, “thank you Jesus” but we wear our swim suits to church.  A by-product of living in a coastal community and the possibility that someone may need baptizin’.

Now, over the years the school has compelled us to attend these stupid infant graduations by holding them DURING school hours.  We can’t keep our kids home from them or we’ll go to jail for intentionally allowing our kids to skip school where they (get funding) are learning (although the test is over lurnin is done).  So, if we don’t show up (skip WORK)  we look like horrible parents.  Even worse,  WE look like horrible foster parents.

So, we go.

Which brings us to the 5th grader, who is also graduating.  A bit more of an accomplishment, but I would rather mark it by tossing out all of the Sponge Bob undies than attending YET ANOTHER graduation.  But whatever.  I attended the orphans’ I will go to yours too.

The only kid still at home that is not graduating is Sk8rboi, our 17 year old.  Who is going to school, and doing as well as he ever does, and working 25 or more hours a week and doing it all without so much as a “get your arse outta bed” from me.  He’s accomplishing something.

I need to write the school board.

He’s going to feel left out and develop a complex and end up in a clock tower.

Dear school board,

It’s not fair that not everybody gets to graduate from everything.  4/5 of my children will be graduating this year and my 1/5 is being discriminated against.  Either cancel all graduations or include everyone.  It’s only fair.  Also, I would like to recommend that each year you change the colors of the caps and gowns so that I have a broad color spectrum and no one is subject to hand me downs.  I also think that $30 is a good price point to start at.  The end of the year is a good time to hit us with these extra fees, because the kids are also going to lots of field trips and such because, as you know, standardized tests are over by the end of April and teaching kids after that would be pointless.

I’m not trying to tell you how to run things, just a concerned parent.

Sincerely, Annie

Also too, dear readers, don’t tell me to homeschool.  I cannot homeschool the orphans and homeschooling my “real” kids would seem cruel and exclusive.  Besides, the only thing I’ve effectively taught them is the “f” word and even that, I got wrong.

The moment it was revealed that we had went to eat at Jamie Oliver’s restaurant in London, Jamie’s Italian, He Chef started asking for details.

Why?  Because he’s awesome at his job, and wants to make sure everyone loves their Wolfgang Puck experience.

That being said, the only thing these two “brands” if you will have in common, is the name recognition.

First, I have mostly had Wolfgang Puck in Las Vegas.  Only had Jamie Oliver in London.  Vegas and London are two entirely different worlds.

Also,

when I go to Wolfgang Puck, they know I belong in some way, shape or form to He Chef.  Know that I am going to be informing on them.   My kids could play in the fountain and throw rocks at guests and it would be “all good”.

OK they weren’t that bad, but close.

First,  Jamie’s Italian.   The bruschetta was the best EVER.  I still dream of it, and will for awhile.  I regret not taking advantage of a free hour and going back for more.  It will be the first thing I do next time I’m in London.

We went on a Saturday over to the Canary Wharf location, only a couple of blocks from the Canary Wharf Tube.  It is located in an area where there are a lot of offices.  Despite the area being sleepy on a Saturday afternoon, Jamie’s was hopping busy.  The staff was wonderful.  After the bruschetta, the rest of the food was good, probably the best I had in London, but it wasn’t “omgoodness I’m going to die” like the bruschetta was.  Yes, I’m stuck on the bruschetta, it was that good.

as opposed to Wolfgang Puck.  Where everything that I put in my mouth makes me want to die immediately because nothing, ever will be as good as that moment.  Wasabi mashed potatoes.  Creamed corn.  I usually defer to whatever they bring me.  Last time I was in Vegas, I ate at Lupo’s in Mandalay Bay.  I had Kobe beef with a black truffle something, so yum.  They insisted on bringing dessert.  I don’t even know what it was, a ricotta/berry something.  Again, it was Vegas and I almost married it.

I would say you couldn’t go wrong with either choice.  I know that if I am ever near a restaurant operated by either Jamie Oliver or Wolfgang Puck, you’ll find me there.

Excited for the adventure.  To see my husband.  To get away from the kids.

It was not until a couple hours after arriving that my body realized we should still be sleeping.

I went back to my hotel and took a bit of a nap.  I didn’t want to sleep too much.  Although, I don’t recall what we did that night.  I know we walked around for a bit, but remember Skype-ing home to the kids and seeing my tired self on video and wishing for a Jane Jetson video phone face.

That night, I had trouble falling asleep, and the first morning I slept til almost noon.

I spent four nights there.  I wasn’t particularly tired during any of the trip, except that first 24 hours.  It did surprise me that despite being six hours earlier, I woke up earlier than I did at home.  It might have something to do with the difference in latitude and the sun coming up so much earlier.   It also might have something to do with the fact that I haven’t had a decent nights sleep since the twins arrived five years ago.  Or just trying to see as much of London as I could in four days.

Before I left for the trip, I did try to get to bed as early as possible #FAIL and I did get up quite early the few days preceding my trip.

When I returned I had read that I should wear sunglasses in the morning and then stay up until normal bedtime.  That and about an hour nap on the plane seemed to work fine.  It was sunny when I arrived home and I did quite well until it got dark.  I did stay up until 10 that night telling my kids and mom-in-law about my adventures.

The day after I returned home I struggled to stay awake in the late afternoon, but that is normal for me.

Now, I’m suspecting that this was maybe a newbie reaction to travel.  I will probably be all cocky and think that jet lag is a bunch of bologna sandwich only to get my ass handed to me in the future.

I’m keeping it in mind.

My husband, who had arrived several days earlier for business had purchased an “Oyster card” for me.  No, I don’t know why they call it an oyster card, they just do.  He had sought advice from  his local co-workers and bought me a week pass for zones 1 and 2.  This allowed me to take a Tube or bus anywhere in those zones.  It was 28 pounds for the week, which at the time translated into about $42 U.S.

We took the bus from Paddington to our hotel.  Which, and I was warned, was small.  There was a double bed pushed up to the wall and two small nightstands next to it.  There was not enough room between the bed and the wall for even a twin sized mattress.  My husbands big suitcase stood upright at the end of the bed, it touched the wall and the bed.  Behind that wall was a bathroom where I could touch all walls by standing in the middle.

I say those things only for information.  It was a lovely room.  It didn’t need to be any more than it was.

After we got me settled, we took the Tube into the city where my husband was working.  My first “dumb American” eye roll came from security at the office.  He asked for my “surname” and both my husband and I thought he’d said “sign in” – we didn’t know where.

Upstairs, introductions were made.

“Hi, hello, no not very tired.  Oh the flight was good.”

my husband’s office mate caught me off guard.

“We’re going out tomorrow night, right?”

Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m married and my husband is right there.

“of course.”

That wasn’t as awkward as when after said night out, he kissed me.  It was all very European.  Apparently they do that there.

Anyway,

After that I wandered around (got lost) London for a bit.  Scoped out a place for lunch and had a Coke in the park.