Why You Should Clean Your Oven Regularly

Hey Humble Readers...

Yesterday shaped up to be a day of minor injuries around the hobbit-hole. 

First, my Beloved nicked his chin while shaving.  Not a big deal, right? 

Then, Ginny managed to get an angry red scratch on her arm, about an inch and a half long.  Still not a big deal.  A little poly-spor.in and she's on the mend. 

Followed shortly thereafter by an oops while I was trimming Pippin's fingernails.  A little wiggle at the wrong moment and I nipped his fingernail too short.  A little dot of blood and a lot of wailing (on both our parts), and things were sunshiney again.

And then it was dinner time.  Shepherd's pie.  Yum!  I turned on the broiler for the last five minutes to brown the top of the potatoes.  Double yum! 

When I opened the oven I remembered that I had just made yorkshire puddings on Sunday and that always leaves a mess in my oven from the oil over-flow (when I forget to put in a tray to catch the drips).  Combine that with the fact that I haven't actually cleaned my oven in about four months. 

Yeah, there was a fair bit of smoke coming out of my oven.  Enough to set off the smoke detector in the hall.  Not a big deal.

I went down the hall and was waving the oven mitts I had in my hand at the smoke detector (I'm too short to be able to hit the button).  As I was doing this, I was talking to my Beloved, so I wasn't paying the closest attention. 

As I was waving the oven mitts, they must have connected with the smoke detector, which must have not been reattached to it's base correctly after the last battery change. 

All I know... one second I'm getting the smoke detector to shut off, and the next I'm holding my forehead and seeing stars.  And behold, the smoke detector is on the floor, after bouncing off my noggin. 

Now I'm sporting a lovely little bruise.  (feel free to chuckle at my expense)

And that, Humble Readers, is why you should clean your oven regularly. 

Y is For... Yertle the Turtle (And a Few Updates)

Howdy Humble Readers...

Oy... what a day we've had around the hobbit-hole.  (But more on that later)

It's hard to believe, but we are approaching the end of the A to z Challenge.  When I signed up for this challenge, I really only wanted something to help distract me through the last few weeks of this pregnancy, but I have found that I have not only enjoyed the process, but have rekindled a desire to read some old favourites.  I'm hoping that some day soon I might find the focus that I've lost and be able to read at something close to the speed I used to. 

Today, being all about the letter Y, I have to talk about Yertle the Turtle.  I was hoping to incorporate some Seuss characters in this list, but it hasn't happened until now.  And oddly enough, Yertle has never been one of my favourite Seuss books (The Dr. Seuss Sleep Book holds that honour).  But, because of some recent happenings in the news, I have to write about Yertle. 

You see, the teachers unions in BC (the province to the west of us) have been battling for a new contract and have been holding some rotating work stoppages.  Now teachers in some areas have been using a quote from Yertle to promote their cause.  "I know up on top you are seeing great sights, but down here on the bottom, we too should have rights"  The quote seems appropos for those in the midst of a labour dispute. 

But why this has made news is because some school districts have an issue with teachers using this quote on buttons and bumper stickers that are visible to students.  They say that they don't want the students drawn into the politics of the situation. 

Personally, I wonder what world the school districts live in where they think that the students aren't fully aware of what's going on.  But, I'm not sure that teachers should be bringing the dispute into the classroom (wearing buttons with the quote).

Do you have an opinion about this?  And whether you do or not, what's your favourite Seuss book?

*****
Ok, back to 'oy'.  We were up and out of the house by 9:30 this morning.  We hit Costco first, and because it was still early, it was a breeze to get in and out of there (even though the bill at the end was ouchy).  After a quick stop at home to dump things in the fridge and freezer, we then headed to our regular grocery store, and spent another ridiculous amount of money.  Really, for the amount of money we spend on groceries, shouldn't someone come home with us to put them all away?

After lunch we went to work on repackaging the bulk packages of meat and I started my freezer cooking.  I made 2 meatloaves (is that really a word?), 5 meals worth of meatballs, 2 meals of Garlic Balsamic Pork, and 4 meals worth of Lazy Cabbage Roll Casserole.  I also started on three other recipes that I will be finishing tomorrow.  And I made dinner, and I did almost all my dishes from my crazy kitchen mess.  I had to stop just shy of doing it all because my back started to rebel, in a very big way. 

I also finished knitting the Halfling's baby blanket, and my Beloved got a start on putting together the Halfling's crib. 

It's been one heck of a day.  But even though my back is screaming at me, and I may not be up to going to church tomorrow morning, I'm happy with what we accomplished today.  By the end of tomorrow I will have 30 dinner meals and 30+ breakfasts.  I won't have to cook for a whole month!!!  (Okay, I'll probably do a bit of cooking, but it's reassuring to know that I will have easy options)

*****
Remember those wonderful burns I got on my hand back on Easter Sunday?  Well, they've healed up nicely, but now I'm in that nasty gross reptile stage... my hand is peeling like crazy.  Ick!

H is For... HOBBITS!!! (And a Hand Update)

Hey Humble Readers...

I'll get to my H fictional characters in a moment, but first up I wanted to give you a brief update on my stupidity. 

Thankfully, the burns aren't as bad as they seemed yesterday.  There are blisters on my palm and all my fingers, but other than making things stiff, they aren't painful for the most part.  I took the dressing off today, as it was making caring for a toddler almost impossible (the tabs from her diapers were sticking to the gauze, etc).  I am going to keep them covered at night so that they get some time to heal properly, but during the day I'm just going to keep babying them a bit and trying not to over do it.  Gripping anything in my right hand is an issue and fine motor skills are iffy (I couldn't do my bra up by myself today... lol), but in a couple of days things should be okay.  Thank you all so much for your kind words and concern.  Honestly, I felt like a bloomin' idiot. 

So... on to today's A to z challenge post...

Of course, I could have milked my absolute favourite characters for multiple posts, by talking about each one individually.  But I'm not that type of person (at least not most of the time).  So, without further ado, here's why I love my shire-dwelling cousins...

Bilbo - Bilbo Baggins, is the epitome of hobbits.  Quiet, retiring, lover of books and good food, he avoids adventures of all sorts.  He is a fastidious and rather anal-retentive little soul, who gets sucked into the dwarfs burglary scheme in spite of himself.  What is so astounding, and what I love so much about him, is that he has a plethora of skills and abilities that prove him to invaluable to the plot.  No one expects much of him in the realm of Smaug the dragon or the darkest corners of the Mirkwood... and yet, he is the one who saves the day over and over.  He is the consummate underdog.

Frodo - Frodo Baggins, cousin and adopted heir of Bilbo, becomes the Ring-bearer and entrusted with the unenviable task of carrying the One Ring to the fires of Mordor to destroy it.  Although he starts out as a mostly typical hobbit (with allowances being made for his Took-ishness), due to the effects of the Ring and the injuries he incurs on his journey he becomes much more introspective and rather unhappy.  The primary characteristic that I love about Frodo is his sense of duty.  He knows what has to be done, and does it without really thinking about what it will mean for his own well-being.  He sees past his immediate situation to what is best for everyone around him.

Pippin - Peregrin Took, the youngest of the four hobbits in the Ring trilogy, starts out as comic relief, but quickly becomes someone to admire.  He, with his best friend Merry, helps to motivate the Ents to act in the Two Towers, and becomes a member of the Guards of the Citadel at Minas Tirith to symbolically repay Denathor for the loss of his son Boromir, who died trying to save him and Merry from the Orcs.  I love his humour and his sense of honour.  (And if this Halfling I'm expecting turns out to be a boy, his bloggy name will be Pippin)

Merry - Meriadoc Brandybuck, is the thinking-man's hobbit.  He's the one who figures out the riddle of the doors to the Mines of Moria, and knows the shortcuts to avoid being tracked by the Black Riders.  He's protective of his friends, and will defend them to his dying breath, as he shows when he faces the Witch King of Angmar with Eowyn. 

Sam - Samwise Gamgee, my all-time favourite hobbit, is the dictionary definition of side-kick.  He sticks to Frodo like glue throughout their whole long journey.  He cares for him, protects him, makes sure he eats, and doesn't allow him to carry more than the burden of the Ring.  He watches as Frodo begins to sink under the power of the Ring and, when Frodo finally can't carry on any longer he simply picks up Frodo and carries him the rest of the way.  He is loyal to a fault, and won't let even a little thing like the One Ring of Power get between him and his charge. 

For a complete list of hobbits as mentioned in Tolkien's works, I refer you here.

Do you have a favourite hobbit?  And if you don't, why the heck don't you?  :)

A Very Stupid Hobbit

Hey Humble Readers...

I hope that you have all had a good Easter Sunday. 

Ours was actually pretty nice until about 4 hours ago.  We had decided that, other than laundry, we were going to take a break from our spring cleaning and just rest. 

We got home from church, put Ginny down for a nap, and then basically vegged out.  My hips have been incredibly sore the past few days, so I just put my feet up and got caught up on my recorded shows. 

I prepped the rack of lamb we were having for dinner, and got my other prep work going.  I was beginning to feel a bit more human than I have for the last couple of days. 

I seared the rack of lamb in an oven-safe pan, and then popped it in a really hot oven.  Twelve minutes later, it came out, looking and smelling amazing.  I took it out of the pan, and set it to rest on a cutting board, covered it, and then put the asparagus in the oven. 

Without thinking, I grabbed the handle of the frying pan that until only a moment before had been in a 450F oven to move it further back on the stove top, out of harms way. 

Do you see the irony?

As  you can imagine, I ended up burning my hand.  Burnt it so bad that I felt the need to go to the emergency room.  So, with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, I myself to the hospital (my Beloved stayed home with Ginny), and proceded to wait for two hours to be seen by a doctor. 

In that two hours the pain seemed to subside, and I was almost ready to just head home when the doctor came in. 

Because of the wretched GD, there is a much greater concern about infection due to the blisters that now cover the palm and the majority of the fingers on my right hand. 

And, yes, I am right handed.

My hand is now goopy with antibiotic cream and wrapped in a mile of gauze.  I'm typing this primarily one handed (not fun!) and I am wondering how I will manage changing diapers tomorrow. 

I am such a stupid hobbit.

Oh yeah, and I had to get a tetnus shot too.  Great day...

Hobbit-ish Potpurri: Weekend Recap

Howdy Humble Readers...

Well, we ended up having a relatively unproductive weekend.  Friday night ended up being a write-off for me in terms of sleep (I have been dealing with stuffy sinuses at night and it makes sleeping very challenging).  I dozed off finally some time after four in the morning, and Ginny decided that 5am would be a great time to wake up (I think she actually had a nightmare, but timing's a biotch!).  She dozed off again around 6, I got less than three hours sleep.  Ugh.  It made for a completely wasted Saturday.  I ended up having to send my Beloved to do the grocery shopping on his own and didn't take a shower until four in the afternoon. 

*****
One funny thing from Saturday... I took a nap while Ginny was napping, and I had a bizarre dream about my mom being 7 weeks pregnant right now.  Particularly crazy as she had a hysterectomy more than 20 years ago.  I told her about the dream when I called to wish her a happy birthday last night, and I don't know if it was the wine she had with dinner, but she thought it was the funniest thing she ever heard. 

*****
I seem to be a walking mess of minor injuries.  I'm nursing a bit of a goose-egg on my forehead.  On Friday, Ginny decided that she no longer wanted to sit on my lap, and threw herself backward rather unexpectedly.  I can safely say that she no longer has a soft spot on her skull.  Ouch!!!  I've burned myself in the kitchen more times in the last week than I have in the last six months.  I think I have tendonitis in my right thumb (and of course I'm right handed, so that makes all kinds of things a challenge).  And, oh yeah, I think I wrenched my back/hip a bit... I've had a stitch in my side for the last 24 hours.  I'm a mess, I tell ya!

*****
If you've been here a while, you know that I had challenges with breastfeeding Ginny.  Granted I had a lot of strikes against me (being obese, GD, a failed induction, c-section), but I still had some pretty high expectations of myself, and ended up really beating myself up about it when I finally gave up after three months.  I totally get that 'the breast is best', but for some women, it just doesn't always work the way it should.  Soooo, when I read this article the other day I almost jumped out of my skin in anger and frustration.  Apparently the La Leche League in New Zealand is so powerful, that it has forced changes to a national non-smoking ad campaign, all because it shows a dad bottle feeding his child!  I was just completely flabbergasted.  The commercial wasn't to promote a brand of baby formula or bottles.  IT WAS TO PROMOTE HEALTHY LIVING!!  And somehow the sight of a father feeding his child was so offensive and controversial that it had to be removed from the ad campaign.   (ok, rant over)

*****
Confession time... I love America's Got Talent.  Love it.  So, of course, I am now watching Canada's Got Talent (a shameless rip off, of course).  I love the good, the bad, and the truly terrible.  But, I have to ask... what is the deal with people sticking strange things up their noses in the name of entertainment?  I just don't get it!  :)

The Hobbit Vs. The World - Volume 1

I have decided to start a new little feature here in my corner of the blogosphere, 'The Hobbit Vs. The World'. This will be a place for me to get out my crankies about the things that get under my skin, from the ridiculous to the sublime. As usual, it's your choice to read... and comment as the case may be. These are just thoughts of little consequence...

The Hobbit Vs. Old Man Winter

I'm sure if you've read any of my posts over the last few weeks, you will have recognized a trend.

I can't stand winter! I want it to be spring!

When I was a wee little hobbit, knee-high to a cricket, I loved winter. I loved the snow, I loved toboggining, mittens, seeing your breath when you walked outside, and frost on the windows. I would watch anxiously for the first snowfall, and would jump around like an idiot when I would wake to a few centimeters of the white stuff on the lawn. I would dawdle all the way to school and home, throwing snowballs and sliding on the ice. I was notorious for wearing out the knees on my snow-pants because I loved to run and slide down the ice on my knees.

When I got a little older, I still loved the snow. I didn't understand when my mom would gripe about the winter. How could you not love watching the big white flakes falling on the mountains?

But somewhere between my late teen years and my early twenties, something changed. Maybe I became more klutzy. Maybe it's because I became 'too cool' to wear winter boots. Maybe I just got tired of landing on my backside in the snow. Whatever it was, my relationship with snow and ice changed. It became my enemy.

To say that I am accident prone is an understatement. If someone is going to get hurt doing the most mundane task, it's going to be me. Heck, I almost gave myself a concussion a few weeks ago doing laundry (but that's a tale for another time). And as the world's biggest klutz, I see every snowfall as another opportunity for Old Man Winter to cause me bodily injury.

Over the years I have aquired a collection of tensor bandages , ripped trouser knees, and ice packs to rival any midget hockey team. My tendancy towards winter injury is legend at my workplace. Last year was no exception. Twice in the early part of winter I wiped out on my way to work. Once, I actually made it to work, only to wipe out on the tile inside the entrance due to my wet shoes.

The final insult combined with injury happened last year in April. This region of the flatland is notorious for freak snowstorms in the spring and fall, and last year our final snowfall didn't come until the last week of April, after the trees had finally started to bud. We got a ridiculous amount of wet, sloppy snow, and it took a few days before it warmed up again enough to melt the white poop away.

The day after the snowfall, on my walk to work, I encountered a section of unshovelled sidewalk, where the slush and snow had frozen into a trecherous mess. Knowing my ankles, I wouldn't make it ten feet before a sprain would ensue. So I made a choice. A dumb choice... but I will admit that it seemed reasonable at the time.

I looked at the street to my left. The cars had packed down the snow. There were no frightening lumps of ice to navigate. I stepped off the curb, intending to avoid certain bodily harm, only to feel my heel hit a exceptionally slick patch of ice.

I can see it in my mind's eye. I'm sure if anyone was watching, they got a good chuckle out of it. A plus-sized hobbit, bundled up to the eyes, going ass over tea kettle, purse flying in one direction, mp3 player in the other.

The only thing to differentiate this particular fall from the thousands previous was the way I landed. Normally, I would land on a knee or twist an ankle. But not this time. This time I landed square on my pride. Yep, the old derriere. More specifically, my tailbone. I was so stunned by the pain that I wasn't even able to catch myself before my head hit the ice.

I think I laid there for a good two or three minutes before attempting the oh-so-gracefull job of getting myself up, collecting my things, assessing the damage and getting back on my way to work, all without landing on my ass again. I was only a block or so from work, so I hobbled the rest of the way, and that is the end of my sad tale.

Almost...

I had cracked my tailbone. It took a month before I could sit like a normal hobbit (or human) and even now it gives me uncomfortable twinges. Especially when it gets really cold. How ironic.

So, today when I heard the weather advisory for a winter storm warning, predicting 10-20 centimeters of new snow, I said a few words that should never be heard from a hobbit. I have, miraculously, made it through this winter without hurting myself. No falls, no spills, no twisted ankles. But with every snowflake that comes, I know that the odds are just getting higher and higher against me. *sigh*

As of 11:00 tonight, the storm hasn't arrived. I'm hoping we've missed it. But in case you don't hear from me tomorrow, look for me in traction.

Update - When I woke up this morning, I found the snow had arrived. About 10cm. *shudder*