Feeding the Colombian Princess

When I read the report of Nora’s eating habits and favorite foods I had to look up the names on google to find out what they were!  One was arepa… it’s a thick corn bread pancake that sometimes has soft white cheese in the center.  We had them for breakfast at the first hotel and they were quite tasty, if I do say so myself!  Then we found them in the grocery store yesterday and I bought them…. but I need to translate the cooking instructions.  We’ll get there, sweetheart!

Nora loves many foods that are “normal” to us: fried chicken, popcorn (those two were her first mommy-cooked meal!), banana, pineapple, chicken noodle soup, cheese balls (totally a Crosby deal right there!), milk, oranges, pasta and ice cream. But there are some habits that seem strange to us Americans: cold coffee, warm milk, dipping crackers in warm milk, eating pizza upside down from the crust forward, putting salt on limes and sucking the living day lights out of them, and (trying… asking everyone) to put sugar on sliced oranges.  “No, honey, that ain’t happening anymore!”  She likes sugar in coffee, milk, juice, strawberry juice, on oranges, bananas and pineapple.  That is one habit that will die-hard at our house.  And lime juice on bananas.  It’s not bad, but not my favorite.  She has tried but didn’t fully appreciate: Sprite, spaghetti sauce, toast, maple/brown sugar oatmeal and cheese.

Big Daddy bought ice cream for all of us today.  Well, except me.  I was busy trying to buy foods that I wasn’t recognizing.  Anyway, Nora talked about getting strawberry ice cream all the way to the shop.  She chose the strawberry ice cream cone, satisfied with her choice, until she saw this other white mystery popsicle.  We could not understand the Spanish description, but in her little mind it obviously outranked the strawberry cone.  We sat outside the shop in patio chairs thoroughly relishing the warm 82 degree weather and cloudy skies, eating our ice cream. Well, except me.  I did get a bite of Austin’s and finally Nora’s after much pleading.  Nora’s had these weird white squiggle things sticking out of the ice cream…. that grew longer with each lick.  Austin was grossed out by this… totally!  I finally inspected it and pulled one out.  Coconut!  That is when I asked if I could taste it.  Oh my word.  THE best ice cream I’ve ever tasted.  Next time, I’m getting the white mystery ice cream!

Going Into Town

Where are currently staying is a 20 minute drive into town…. Walmart, Barnes & Noble, Taco Bell and Home Depot. We don’t have internet access at the cabin, so I’ve brought my laptop to B&N for short and sweet hook-up times.

We dropped into Home Depot earlier for some needed toilet parts and unbeknownst to us, torrential rain started while we shopped. We were all sporting t-shirts, flip-flops, shorts/capris without umbrellas as it was 90 degrees outside. Larisa and I waited in the exit doorway while Rick and Keeve ran to the van. The rain intensified while we waited and the much to our amusement, Home Depot people were frantically covering outdoor displays that were obviously not waterproof. Rick couldn’t get close to the door so he pointed back at the loading dock area. Larisa and I made our way over there, somewhat dryly and were picked up in style. We proceeded to drive two blocks away to a grocery store…. covered by clear skies. Arizona storms amaze and amuse me.

My dad introduced to me his summer specialty beverage at Starbucks: green tea frappaccino with peppermint and mocha chips. It tastes like Grasshopper Ice Cream with all the benefits of green tea. Yum! Much to mine and my father’s dismay, the B&N in Flagstaff is not a fully stocked, peppermint participating Starbucks AND it doesn‘t accept Starbucks cards. Sheesh. As I ordered my relished drink, the non-masculine fellow proceeded to tell me that they don’t serve peppermint. At all. Then he asked if I wanted whipped cream on my plain ordinary green tea frap. I answered nicely, “No, I’m not having a green tea frap anymore, because you wrecked it by not having peppermint.” Keeve proceeded to order and the guy asked him to repeat his name so he could write it on the cup. I spelled it, out of habit, because it is such an unusual name. The guy barked in his soft, lispy voice, “I know how to spell it!” I didn’t comment, but the line on the tip of my tongue was, “Wow! The first person in the world that knows how to spell KEEVE!” He misspelled Larisa’s name and just as I was leaving the counter, he added with charm, “What a cute purse!” Wow! As soon as we were out of earshot, Larisa mocked, “What a cute purse!” It is a cute purse… with cherries all over it and tan straps and corners… my friend Connie gave it to me and I love it. But GAH! Man-up, brother.

We are going back into town again, but I spied a real, stand-alone Starbucks that we will be stopping at to acquire peppermint drinks before our trip into B&N for internet access. This time I’m taking my umbrella.

Dilly Bars

In the van on the way home after the fireworks display on the 4th, our daughter says, “The only thing that would make this night better is if we had Dilly Bars!”  These are fine delicacies from Dairy Queen, in case you haven’t tasted the ambrosia offered on a stick at DQ.  I immediately pulled out the handy-dandy yellow pages that I keep under my seat in the van.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have my glasses with me and could not read a blinkin’ word on the page.  Larisa came to the rescue and started listing the addresses for DQs. Thankfully she came across one that was four blocks from where we were!  Sweet victory!

Dairy Queen on 27th Avenue and Camelback Rd. is not in the nicer part of our fine city, Phoenix.  As we pulled into the driveway, my brave husband spouted, “Let’s go in!”  Three of the four of us simultaneously responded, “NO!”  To match the neighborhood, the drive-through speaker is not of the best quality at the aforementioned DQ either.  We gave up and drove to the window to order our Dilly bars.

Dilly Bars are $1.29 plus tax….. OR six for $6.00 plus tax.  Yes, there are only five Crosbys at the present time.  Yes, that was a steal-of-a-deal to which my dear husband succumbed.  We were happily devouring our Dilly Bars when one of our sons asked who got the sixth stick of ice cream dipped in chocolate?????  And thus began the Dilly Bar Quest for Gold.  “Here’s the rules!” my husband declared.  “I’ll put it in the freezer right in front on the middle shelf.  The first person who wakes up after 3:00 a.m. without an alarm can go to the freezer and move the Dilly Bar to a hidden freezer location.  This way, they can save it for later. If you go down and the bar is moved, DO NOT EAT IT! or you will owe $5 to the winner of the Dilly Bar Quest for Gold!  Remember, you have to sleep first!” The scheming began.

One son said he would eat it all right when he won at 6:30 a.m., our early riser.  The other son said he would save it to eat in front of the rest of us losers.  (How nice!)  Our daughter just sighed, as she is a hard sleeper and late waker.  I thought I stood a good chance as I awake every morning at 5:00 a.m., just to look at the clock and go back to sleep. Just my luck, it didn’t happen last night.

The next morning, at 9:30 a.m. I came out of my bedroom to hear my sons arguing…… “You set your alarm!”  “No, I didn’t!”  “How could you wake up right at 3 a.m. then?”  “I just did!”  “I dreamed of ice cream, but I didn’t wake up!”  and on and on and on it went.  So, the son who wanted to eat the golden Dilly Bar in front of us, did so at breakfast.  Congratulations!

Hep A + Hep B = Sore Arm

I hate shots.  Really hate them.  Needles just aren’t my deal.  At all.  The IV before giving birth was worse than giving birth in my books!

So today, I’m not feeling well, so I go to the doctor.  Low grade fever, pounding headache…. “seems there’s an infection so here’s your prescription… and let’s do the 2nd Hep A/B shot while you’re in the office.”  I wanted to cry and yell, “NO! I already don’t feel good!  Why poke my arm with the big, scary needle?”  But I just sat there and tried not to cry.  Low grade fevers, pounding headaches and the thought of getting a needle make me want to cry.  Really bad.  But I was brave and sucked it up.

Getting a needle is called “getting a needle” in Canada, but in America it’s called “getting a shot.”  Just some cultural trivia for you… for free.

Ten hours later, I can barely lift my left arm.  Is it supposed to hurt this much?  Am I just wimpy?  Say it isn’t so.  The first Hep A/B hurt, but I thought it was because I got tetanus the same day…. in the same arm.  I did cry that day.  But, I can barely lift my left arm.  I think I need some ice cream.  Pistachio Almond.  Yep, that will make me not think about my left arm that I can’t lift without experiencing pain.  Maybe the nurse hit a nerve or a bone or a muscle or something else that she wasn’t supposed to poke the needle into.

I did spend my evening with the girlfriends around the fire pit.  Good times.  I didn’t lift my left arm and I had a really nice time.  Now I’m home and whiney.  Time for beddy-bye.  Hopefully I’ll feel better in the morning.  Good night.

What’s Not to Love at the Dentist?

You know how you can tell this is not me at the dentist?  My hands aren’t in the picture and the nostrils aren’t flared nearly enough.  Yes, you guessed it, I went to my friendly dental establishment today…. just for a cleaning.  Well, as my sister and I both whole heartily know, levitation is possible just from a simple cleaning.  I think there is red warning tape tied around my file that says “Hyper Sensitive Wimp”on it to protect the hygienist from bodily harm.  Yes,  I have a few highly sensitive teeth.  No, there is absolutely no reason to spray cold water on them to check if they are still sensitive.  No, there is absolutely no reason to shoot cold air on them to check if they are still sensitive.  THEY ARE!  I’m just saying.

Over my sensitive years, I’ve learned to brush my teeth with warm water.  If I drink cold water my tongue naturally shields my upper left molars without me reminding it. And ice cream can bring me to tears.  It’s not just the frigid temperatures…. it’s hot too.  Hot soup, hot pizza, hot lasagna.  All must be blown on with tender care before inserting near the upper left quadrant.

So today, my tooth doctor, whose name is for really Montana Skylar, (sounds like he should be on a dusty horse roping cattle in tight Levis) comes up with a suggestion that I’ve never heard before for my tender teeth.  It’s called tooth varnish.  So I say, “YES! ANYTHING!  BRING IT ON!”  And for only $457 I can be sensitive free!  (just kidding, I was checking if my hubby still reads my blog.)  Anywhooo, I am currently sitting here typing with a mouth full of wax coating my teeth.  It feels like I just ate a bee hive.  It’s pasty white and filmy and Larisa says it makes me lisp.  WHO CARES!?!?  I might be able to bite into a Mint Filled Dilly Bar without spilling tears.  I’m not to have anything hot until tomorrow and I’m not supposed to brush my teeth until tomorrow morning.  That’s a first.  The dentist telling you to skip brushing.  I’ll report in when I’m wax free as to my level of sensitivity.  Pray that this wasn’t a scam.