Horror Stories of a Domestic Goddess

Chicken- Part one....

Chicken is an amazing fowl. Delicious, versatile and nutritious. I like to cook with chicken- baked breasts, chicken stir-fry and one of my all time favorites: Crock-pot chicken. Defrost the bird and plop it in the crock-pot with some seasoning and broth, then wait. Yummy- I particularly like to cook it until it shreds very nicely so I can make chicken tacos. My Mother makes the BEST chicken tacos EVER and while I try to emulate her I pale in comparison. That being said- my first horror story begins on an ordinary day, not so long ago.

Having made great taco chicken, I put the rest of the chicken meat into a corning ware dish and put it in the fridge. After a few days, I decided the left overs needed to go on to greener pastures. I had taken the bowl (with lid) and placed it in the sink to be disposed of.

This is where the Duh-duh-DUH! music comes in. I'm not sure what happened to distract me, but for some reason I left the house with the kids... FOR 3 DAYS.

Upon my return, I decided I needed to clean up a bit and should start the dishes. Again, for some reason far beyond me, I forgot about having placed the bowl of fowl in the sink. As I prepared to clean up, I looked at the bowl and literally thought to myself, "Huh. I don't remember having rice recently."

Then my brain decided to stop being on holiday and kicked in... "Why is the rice MOVING!?!?!?!"

Do you know the life cycle of a fly? DO you know how long it take a small amount of chicken to become the premier nursery of maggots? EXACTLY 3 days...

I have (to this point) never been so disgusted in my life.

After screaming and dithering about, I decide to be a big girl and deal with it. GAG.

I not so casually empty the writhing nursery down the drain while simultaneously running the hottest water I can down the drain. THEN I pull out the bleach and proceed to treat my sink like the crime scene it was. NO TRACE!!!! No trace I tell you.... except for the smell....

I was so grossed out I had to call my fellow DG (Domestic Goddess) and beg her for refuge from my disgust. With her kind heart she gave us shelter from the atrocity of maggot chicken.

I haven't made tacos OR crock pot chicken in a while... Luckily I can still eat rice- as long as it isn't moving.

Chicken- Part Two

Has this ever happened to you?

One of my favorite and simple party solution is to make baked or grilled chicken breasts. Currently, our local warehouse store sells it's chicken breasts individually wrapped. Normally this is great. Keeps the freezer burn low and makes defrosting a breeze.

For a recent family party, I pulled out said chicken and proceeded to count out the needed quantity of breasts. I made about 15 chicken breasts that day. A couple days after the party, my husband was complaining about a foul odor in the kitchen. We both looked high and low to find the source of the odor- no luck. It wasn't very consistent, only a whiff every now and then. Quite frankly I was convinced one of our dogs was have intestinal difficulties. If only...

Flash forward to 3 days later- yes that's right- 3! I come home and prepare to make dinner. I've started my son on his asthma breathing machine and needed to set the timer. As I enter the kitchen I again get a whiff of the most vile stench ever. "Dammit dog!", I say... poor dog, so maligned...

Then I begin to sniff around... as I do my nephew prepares to take the trash out, just in case that is the offender. I open the oven- no smell. I open the microwave- no smell. I sniff the garbage disposal- nope. I fling open the fridge and begin to dig through the typical thing: milk, cheese and veggies. NOTHING! As I disgustedly begin to stand up something catches my eye, a flash of pink where it doesn't belong.

Lo and behold, stuck between the fridge and the cabinet it an AWOL chicken breast, still in its package. However, said package has a hole. Not a very big hole but a hole none the less. "A HA!", I yell.

Then I did something stupid- I picked it up. I picked it up with no trash bag near by.

The stench of decaying chicken is surely the mostly disgusting smell ever. Dead chicken. FOUL fowl. And then stench is one that lingers and fills a room like an invasive fiend.

After running to the trash bag my nephew bravely holds open and screaming at my poor son to keep his breathing mask on, I run around the house trying to open every window and door. Nothing short of total demolition would've cleared out the stench. It was terrible.

I tried grabbing the Lysol and hosing the kitchen with it, but then it smelled like clean linen death. The Laundromat in hell. The devils febreeze. Gross.

Retreat in the face or rather, stench, of death is not to be ashamed of.

Thank goodness for my fellow DG- AGAIN... I called her and begged refuge in her home... Again, while laughing, she graciously offered us sanctuary.

So instead of cooking chicken at home that night, we shared horror stories over hot and gooey pizza. I have faced down then stench of death and did not let it win. I ate pizza instead.

I won't be eating chicken for the next 6 months... sigh... guess I better figure out how to make hot dog tacos.

I'm not a DG for nothing!

Follow up to "Clean as a Whistle"

Anyone want to take a guess at how much its costs to have a man you've barely met twice shove a camera up your bum?

Any takers?

$16,000

Let me say it again....

Sixteen- THOUSAND dollars.

If only they'd have told me that BEFORE the test I wouldn't have needed the anesthetic because I would have passed out!

Dancing Queen

I am proud to share Ms. Abba-Doodle's Winter Recital. She is the tall one stage right of the teacher. I am SO proud of her, she is doing so well.

AND!!!

She was December's Student of the Month for her first grade class.

Great grades and grace-

How lucky am I?

Clean as a Whistle*

*WARNING* Gross, nasty, disgusting and WAY too much information ahead. If you are not interested please don't read any further. If you are- I'm sorry.

Hi. My name is Cat. I'm 32 years old and I have a spasming colon. Yes, it's true. You may well ask, "How do you know this information, Cat?". One word...

COLONOSCOPY!!!! Originating from the latin- Colon meaning butt and Oscopy meaning camera UP the butt. How fun for me. And now... how fun for you...

So... I'm sent to a gastrointerologist- otherwise known as tummy doctor- to diagnose why my abdomen hates me. When I first made my appointment to see Dr. Reddy, the receptionist asked me the reason for my visit. I simply replied, "Mu abdomen hates me" to which I was greeted with silence. Poor girl. She didn't know how to respond. After establishing that, No, I was not dying, and yes, I could wait a few weeks, I was set up to see Dr. Reddy.

Dr. Reddy listened very patiently while I gave him the long sordid past of my hateful abdomen. Not once did he laugh at me. When my pathetic tale was through, he said, "I know whats wrong with you?" To which I replied, "Finally my life's quest is complete!". No, I didn't really say that, at least not on the outside. Anyhow he told me I have IBS- Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So basically I have a pissed off intestine; an curmudgeonly colon, cranky crapper, etc. No shit SHERLOCK! (again, I did NOT say this out loud but I thought it REALLY loud!)

Apparently the genius diagnosis was not enough for Dr. Reddy- "just to be sure", he said, "let's do a colonoscopy!"

Oh joy of joys! Anyone who know anything about this knows that "The Prep is the Worst!". So, Dr. Reddy, having a grand sense of humor, proceeds to tell me ALL about the 6 different "preps". 6 different ways to make yourself poo until you're blue in the face. I chose the, "Drink this with something you hate because you'll never drink it again" prep.

When booking my appointment, I discovered that maybe I shouldn't try to do it 2 days before Thanksgiving. Just a bad idea. Instead I pick the second week in December. Now, there are few things in life that incite the C word (crap) quite like jury duty. I received my first summons to appear during the run of the Miser and decided to postpone. Guess when I was rescheduled for? Yep, you guessed it! The Monday before my torture- I mean test. Being the lazy gal that I am, I decided to put my self in fates hands and hope I was excused on Monday thereby being free to poop on Tuesday.

As fate, life or whatever would have it, I was old by a very nice computer that I need not report until Tuesday at noon. Tuesday at noon was just, coincidentally, the same EXACT time I was to begin the "prep". Really!?!?!? Seriously.

So come Tuesday morning I rush down to the local courthouse to present my case. I explain, ever so nicely, to the Jury Lady that I have a medical appointment tomorrow and can not serve today. I have already postponed but don't know what to do. She politely tells me I am only allowed ONE postponement in a 90 day period. "Yes, I know,"I say, "but I have a (whispered) colonoscopy tomorrow." I tell her I am MORE than willing to come back on Monday or even Thursday but I just can't do it today. Once I tell her that I am willing to be here she gladly postpones me until the following week and as I sail out the door she calls, "Good Luck! Been there! Done that!". Awesome, it's like I've joined some special club.

Now I'm free to begin.... THE PREP!!! Having not eaten anything past midnight I am starving, but know that I'm SOL (so to speak). Choosing to believe Dr. Reddy that I will never again want to drink whatever I choose to put the salty prep in I choose Apple Juice. I already hate apple Juice, so I figured how could it get worse. EWWWWWW.... the only thing worse than apple juice is SALTY apple juice. I bravely chug down bottle number one of the salty-apple cocktail and hunker down to wait.

Having been through something similar before I know to have a good book ready and a pillow by the toilet. You never know when you'll need a nap. :)

Ok... so by now you can kind of figure out what my next 12 hours were like. Suffice it to say... I hate jello and never want to eat it again... Jello is the only "solid" "food" I was allowed that fateful Tuesday. Sigh... the only thing I would recommend to any one unfortunate enough to embark on this journey is this... DON'T but the cheap one-ply toilet paper. Go all out, splurge on the thickest softest 2-ply out there. Trust me on this one. Seriously.

That being done it was time for the test. At 5 am the next morning after trying to sleep with a clenched butthole I was luck enough to drive myself to the hospital. A miscommunication left me without a driver. Don't worry my husband was able to drive me home.

Off I shuffled to the endiscopy ward in my grey sweats, grey nightgown, "Grumpy" sweatshirt and little red hat covering my bed head hair do. I arrived before the doors to the hospital even open, was signed in and set up. I got to change into 2 gowns, one to cover the front and one for the back; how nice of them. Once I was trundled up into the hospital bed and covered with the wonderful warm hospital blankets, the real fun began. Oh I'm sorry, did you think the story was over? Did you think that I didn't have MORE drama for you? Seriously? Have we met?

Ok as many of you may know I HATE needles. Not the sewing kind but the Vampiric- I want your blood- kind. HATE is to soft a term. Loathe. Detest. Abhor! But an IV is required for the procedure. I warn the very sweet nurse about my stupid psychosis, but having had two babies before I figured I could do it.

Apparently not... as the nice nurse put on the rubber thing that restricts your blood flow my whole body went cold and I began to shake- a lot! I kept shaking, and shaking... and shaking. Eventually I have 4- count 'em... 4... nurses trying to give me an IV. I was crying and apologizing and shaking. So cold. Stuttering. At one point I had 8 blankets one me. It took 3 tries to find a vein. My veins are already small, make them dehydrated and scared and they disappear. Once the IV was in the kind nurses gave me a big ol dose of Atavan- make me sleep medicine. I passed out so quickly I don't even remember being rolled out to the procedure. I vaguely recall being pushed out to the car. The first thing I was even remotely aware of was waking up at 4 pm STARVING!!!!!

While the whole process was embarrassing, awful and scary I'm glad I did it. You'll be pleased to know I don't have cancer, Chron's diseases or polyps. I do however, have IBS (duh), internal hemorrhoids and a colon spasm. I also have pictures! I will in an effort to remain friends refrain from sharing those in the forthcoming Christmas cards. SO the mystery of my abdomen still remains somewhat. My Superpoo highway has a roadblock at one point and a couple bumps along the road. According to my Dr. I am supposed to take a strange drug everyday that should help ease traffic, but I'm not so sure about it effectiveness. I don't need the autobahn of intestinal highways either! Look out Metamucil cookies here I come... but that's another story for another day...

I wish you all the best of luck getting some of these images out of your head, but you can't say I didn't warn you.

(As a side note my husband said I was full of shit on that Tuesday and for the first time in my life I could honesty say, "No I'm not!")

The Miser!

My last few weeks have been amazing, crazy, busy and fun! AWESOME!

When we decided to put up The Miser this season I was so excited. It is one of my favorite plays and one I've always wanted to be in. In passing, I mentioned that to the director. He invited me to audition and cast me as Frosine- the Matchmaker. We've set the play in the second age of excess-the 1908s. IT IS SO MUCH FUN! and SO much work.

I'm very blessed to have been able to be a part of this production, with the support of the department, but, most of all, the support of my family. Thank you- Randy, Danny, Suzie, Mama and Papa. Thank you for letting me realize a dream!

We finish up this week. Performances are Nov. 20,21,22 and 23. All performances are at 8 except Sunday at 2pm.

Hope to see you there!