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Ping Pong Sundays

by whoorl

My run this morning nearly killed me. Seriously, running at 7am with a margarita hangover is not smart. Not smart at all. I think I might have experienced a small coronary infarction about two miles in, not to mention the sun was beyond blinding and HOT. Despite all of these issues, I pushed through and feel 100% better. But don’t think I wasn’t cursing Ping Pong Sundays the entire time.

This summer, Casa Whoorl’s front yard has become ping pong central on Sundays. D is a great ping pong player and it just so happens that our neighbor played tennis in college and is quite the player himself. Mix in the family on the other side of us, who force us to eat things like tacos and homemade rice and beans, and I think it’s safe to say, Sunday is now officially my favorite day. The play continues for a couple of hours while the grand total of 6 children run (well, Wito crawls and cruises the side of the house) through the grassy lawns, kicking balls and laughing hysterically. And what do the non-pongers do? We keep our eyes on the children while sipping delicious margaritas. I like our job the best.

After the fierce competitors have had their fill, the gaming table becomes host for all of the delicious food. Last night it was homemade salsa, guacamole, carnitas, tortillas, rice and beans and all the fixins. I’m pretty sure I ate my body weight in pork last night. There’s just nothing like a juicy carnitas taco followed by a tart margarita. And so we eat and laugh and eat and laugh until the only light left is from the moon, straining to see each other’s faces across the lawn.

However, the very best part is listening to the unpredictable comments from the 4 and 5-year-olds. As we were discussing our neighborhood’s overactive security force, one neighbor joked that if you sneeze too loudly, the security helicopters will circle your home for 45 minutes. Without missing a beat, the 5-year-old looked up from his ice cream cone, completely exasperated, and said, “Well, YOU KNOW, a red dog and a sweater just won’t cut it anymore!”

Huh?

After we put Wito down and the other children had finished dinner, the remaining kids scurried inside our neighbor’s house to play. As we continued to chat outside, we heard the leader of the pack (a 4-year-old girl) yell from inside her room, “Now, let’s get this PARTY STARTED!”

I can’t wait to hear what comes out of Wito’s mouth in the upcoming years. I have a feeling we won’t be disappointed.

The Early-Toddler Food List

by whoorl

Here it is, folks. Although, looking back, it probably would have been much easier to create a list of foods that younger toddlers SHOULDN’T eat. (1. Peanuts 2. Honey – and there you go! Thanks for visiting, Good Night and Good Luck!)

Fruit (almost all types were mentioned)
Steamed vegetables
Quesadillas
Cheese, cheese and MORE CHEESE (Wito says HELL YEAH.)
Yogurt
Beans
Annie’s Mac & Cheese
Various Pastas
Chunks of Rotisserie chicken
Meatballs
Scrambled eggs
Frozen whole wheat waffles
Applesauce
Creamy peanut butter (no history of family food allergies)
Cream cheese/jelly on flat bread
Chicken nuggets
Gnocchi
Sweet potato
Grilled cheese
Boca burgers
Hamburger
Ravioli
Spaghetti-O’s
Oatmeal
Edamame
Tofu
Hummus (all different kinds)
Cooked sushi rolls
Leftover stir-fries and curries
Rice
Couscous
Earth’s Best Organic cheese crackers
YoBaby Yogurt (Wito loves the kind with fruit and cereal mixed in, but he requests that I sing, “Yo Baby Yo Baby YO!” every time. Or maybe it’s just me.)
Organic Greens With Envy from Trader Joes
Tater Tots
Pirate’s Booty
String cheese
Chef Boyardee microwaveables
Corn bran cereal (look out below!)
Thinly-sliced deli meat
Roasted veggies
Turkey burgers
Guacamole
Green beans
LEFTOVERS (from the night before! DUH.)

Please leave any other ideas in the comments section. Thanks for everyone’s input!

On to much more important stuff, like mah hair. According to my handy-dandy poll counter, I will be venturing into bang territory. Of course my hair stylist is in Mexico, so my appointment isn’t until next Thursday, giving me plenty of time to look through magazines and change my mind daily. However, this is a democracy people! You speak and I listen! Bangs, here I tentatively come! (Although, if they are ugly, it’s totally your fault.)

Disaster Pie

by whoorl

Since Wito has officially graced us with his presence for an entire year, I received the go-ahead from my pediatrician to feed him whatever we eat. (Except peanuts, I know. OHMYGAHDON’TLETHIMTOUCHAPEANUTI’MHYPERVENTILATING.)

This new piece of culinary information has literally thrown me into a tailspin. He’s supposed to eat what I eat? Like burritos? And Frankenberry cereal? Huh? This can’t be right- Wito eats Cheerios, cheese, fruit, English muffins and Earth’s Best baby food. End of story.

Well, I guess things must change. Except, we eat dinner after he’s asleep. How is that supposed to work? I’M LOOKING AT YOU FOR SOME ANSWERS, DR. HOT. Am I supposed to be this highly confused about the matter? You would think someone just requested me to explain why Danny didn’t win So You Think You Can Dance.

This is the part where you come in to save the day. What do/did you feed your 1-year olds? (Who go to bed at 6:30-7:00. Long before our dinner commences.)

Well, I’ll tell you what you SHOULD NOT feed toddlers or frankly, any adults on the planet Earth.

Olive Pie.

Darren and I really thought we were onto something with this whole Olive Pie idea. We had been emailing for weeks about our sinful love for green olives, and how our Olive Pie could possibly be the closest thing to God. Olive Pie Lovers Unite! I spent some time searching for recipes on various popular food websites, but couldn’t seem to find much more than a British recipe for an olive and anchovy pie.

(Note to self: If you can’t find a recipe online, it’s probably NOT because you’ve brilliantly come up with the next culinary delight to sweep the nation. Nope, it’s definitely because your idea SUCKS.)

Yet, Darren and I forged ahead, ignoring all of the naysayers and pie-hatas. We decided to use a variety of green olives, red onions, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes and feta cheese all mixed together in a flaky pie crust. (See? Sounds downright delish!)


Very special ingredients.


Very special pie crust.

How could this not be wonderful? I KNOW! Darren jumped right in…


I hope you don’t mind, I started chopping already.


Does it look like I mind? Could you hand me that bag of chips over there?


People don’t even know what’s about to hit them. We are the pie masters.


Now, you have to admit. This looks pretty good, right?


Here I am holding the pie and wondering why a faint putrid odor has invaded my nasal membrane. Actually, I’m wondering lots of things.

1. How is this pie going to stay together when we cut into it?
2. Why are the olives shriveled? And smelly?
3. Are sun-dried tomatoes supposed to look like that?
4. Do I really like olives as much as I previously thought?
5. OHMAHGAH, are some of these olives non-pitted?
6. What kind of an asshole would try to make an olive pie?

But wait! We were prepared for this! We saved half of the filling AND an extra pie crust, ready to improve our pie. We decided raw egg could be the glue for our misunderstood pie! YES! We mixed one raw egg with the remaining filling, took one whiff of the stinky cheese/olive/raw egg mixture and…

We all know where this is leading, yes?


Whoorl and Darren’s Olive Pie, Rest in Peace.


I can’t believe I’m related to this woman.

The Birthday Boy

by whoorl

Wito experienced a 5-day birthday bonanza complete with 2 parties and grandparental coddling beyond belief. The child was spoiled ROTTEN- trust me, I’m still paying for it 6 days later.

Our typical day since we’ve been back home:

“Mamamamammaaaaa, mamamamaamaa. MAMAAMAMAAAAAAAAAAAAA.”

He wants to be picked up, he wants down, no wait, he wants up, DAMMIT, HE WANTS DOWN. GAH. WHY CAN’T YOU READ MY MIND, WOMAN?

“Mamamamamaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

Thanks, mom and dad. Really.

I guess I’ll let them off the hook considering they hosted the greatest 1st birthday bash ever. Great food, people, and the Trinity of Sweets – cake, cupcakes AND cookies. Oh, and wine. LOTS of wine – 6 hours of wine consumption, to be exact.

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First birthday parties usually don’t involve a terribly high level of alcohol consumption, but my parents were also hosting Blogher 2.0, Oklahoma-Style. I can’t tell you how surreal it was to open my parents’ front door and see Heather, Susan and Shana looking back at me. (Well, not so much Shana Banana. We’ve had our fair share of Okie vino.) All three were just lovely, especially standing in the midst of many, many strangers. I’m sure my mother put Heather at ease when she exclaimed, “Of course I know you! You’re from the Dunkin’ Donuts video!” However, the deal was sealed when they kept completely straight faces as I explained to my inlaws how we all met at a scrapbooking convention in Reno. It was true love from that point on.

The four of us laughed and sipped (okay, more like gulped) wine long after the last birthday guests trickled out of the door. 6 hours later, and less than 9 hours until Heather’s flight, we said our goodbyes. Such fun, those ladies!

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Let’s get back to the man at hand, shall we? He had so much fun seeing all of his relatives and Okie friends. The best part was his birthday cake celebration – he just sat there staring at it for several minutes until my sister coaxed him into licking a little bit of icing. Then, it was ON. The boy ingested sinful amounts of frosting, but promptly gagged (in an extremely dramatic fashion, imagine that) when he tasted the actual chocolate cake. We’ll have to discuss that later, Wito.

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I am still shocked that he didn’t experience much of a sugar high or have tummy troubles. What a little man.

A couple of days later, my aunts hosted a Sip-n-See party for 70 of my mother’s closest friends. These 2 photos tell the story better than I ever could.

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Pssst. See those ladies over there? They are trying to hug me. They sure smell nice, but don’t they know I need my space? If you need me, I’ll be trying to escape out the window.

ss1.jpg

Dear God, when will this be OVER? I’M NOT A PUPPET, PEOPLE.

All in all, we had such a great time with all of our friends and family in Oklahoma. It’s hard to believe that Wito has graced us with his presence for an entire year. I truly can’t wait for all of the adventures to come.

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You’ve come a long way, Wito. I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Oh, and I will never tire of hearing you say, “Mamamama”. Even if it is the 412th time that day.

Is The Universe Trying To Tell Me Something?

by whoorl

I can’t decide which is better – not posting at all or posting about our current house drama. Trust me, nothing would make me happier than to post photos of Wito’s first birthday party (soon, I promise), but I can’t. Almost a week later, I haven’t even downloaded the photos from the camera. This house situation has us pulling our hair out in clumps. And to think of all of the blogs I’ve read recently about wanting to sell a house, wanting to buy a house, etc. We just want to STAY in our house.

When we received word that our place had sold as an investment property, we were thrilled. It was the best case scenario, actually – no moving, no more showings, and a 1-year lease from our new landlord ensuring this wouldn’t happen again in the near future. Music to my ears. In fact, if you saw me forcefully swatting the air this past week, I was probably high-fiving the universe.

We’ve had a slighty bumpy road with this property in the past year. The first time our landlord tried selling our house was when Wito was only 4 weeks old. When the Realtor called me about setting up a “schedule” of house showings, I nearly died laughing. A SCHEDULE? For a breast-feeding mother of a 4-week infant? Yeah, right.

We take exceptional care of this property. Our landlord continually tells us we are the best tenants he has ever dealt with. We spend our own money making improvements to this house because it’s our home. We really thought karma was on our side.

Until the call from the Realtor last night. It seems the house has some structural problems, which isn’t any surprise to us, given its age. Plumbing issues, large leaks, broken pipes – no biggie. I don’t mind the inconvenience of living in the property while the repairs are completed. Hell, we’ve already dealt with plenty. Painters + Plumbers + Realtors = Complete Nap Annihilation.

Then the kicker. The house has termites and needs to be fumigated.

Like this kind of fumigated.

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We are an environmentally-friendly family. We eat organic. We use chlorine-free diapers and wipes. Wito plays with non-toxic toys on a non-toxic playmat. We use a green dry cleaning service. We do NOT use any toxic household cleaners (basically, all of the big-name brands).

Yet next week, our belongings will be enveloped in a mushroom cloud of lethal bromide gas. (Termite man – “Don’t worry! No residue!”, Whoorl – “That’s not what the EPA says…”)

This is rather disturbing.

When I explained our stance to the Realtor about toxic chemicals in our house, I asked for 30 days to allow us time to move out before the fumigation commenced. She briskly told me that wasn’t possible, the fumigation was proceeding next week and if we were to move out before then, we would be breaking our lease agreement and forfeiting thousands of dollars of our deposit.

Now, this just doesn’t seem right. We are currently attempting to educate ourselves on our rights as renters and working to stop this process from happening so quickly. If anyone out there knows anything about renter’s rights, I would love to hear from you.

The Final Verdict

by whoorl

Hello. Welcome to my running blog.

WAIT, come back! I swear, this is the last of the running gear entries, but I needed to divulge my final and SHOCKING opinion.

I, Sarah of Whoorl, am officially in love with all of my new road-tested (not just trotting-the-sidewalk-with-wine-tested!) running gear.

1. Adidas Response Baggy Short – I love these shorts. LOVE. I ran in both these and the Nike Tempo shorts and for me, the Adidas worked the best. The 4-inch inseam (opposed to the Nike 3-inch) made all of the difference. They are paper-thin, don’t ride up and keep my thighs completely cool the entire time. I am now the proud owner of several pairs.

2. Lucy Energy Sport Bra – The best part about this sport bra? It doesn’t cut off the circulation to my armpits – meaning, no armpit fat bubbling over the edges of the bra. Hallelujah. Oh, and they are on sale RIGHT NOW online for $10.00. TEN DOLLARS, PEOPLE. Get ’em while you can.

3. NikeSportsTee Tank – These have the Nike Dri-FIT technology, so they keep you cool and happy. Plus, I love the colors.

And finally, the skirts. I wanted to love the skirts, y’all. However, I am very sorry to say that the skirts were shipped right back their maker. Personally, I am not a fan for a couple of reasons. For me, the material was too thick. It felt very similar to the sweaty capri pants that started this whole running gear search in the first place. There just isn’t any comparison to the light-weight papery feel of the shorts. Also, the skirt’s waistband sat much higher on my waist than the shorts, and when I attempted to pull it down, it would just ride back up. The compression shorts were visible below the skirt, too. All in all, no. Just no- at least, not for ME. I’m sure the skirts look fabulous on YOU. *kisses*

Now, I’m off to run on a treadmill while running shoe experts analyze my gait and try to help me understand why my right ankle feels like it will break off at any second. Please Jebus, don’t let me trip.