All Rileyed Up

Jell-O. I have so many fond memories of it, even though I rarely ate Jell-O but Gelatin Dessert . I remember a family function when someone had put coleslaw in the Jell-O and my parents made me and my brothers and sister eat it to be polite. But it was not polite of said family member to put cole slaw in the Jell-O, now was it? What is the point of mixing things with Jell-O, anyway? It tastes fine on its own. I’ll make the occasional exception for cool whip, but that’s it. Fruits and vegetables are not necessary in Jell-O. If you need to sneak fruits and veggies into your kids diet, I assure you: Jell-O is not the way to go.

I made Gelatin Dessert today with the kids. The brightly colored boxes attracted The Boy like a tractor beam at the store, and he asked if we could get one. He wanted the brand name Jell-O package, but oh no, I saved an entire dollar by buying Stater Bros. Gelatin Dessert.

We brought it home. We opened up the box of the vivid green powder. We boiled water. We mixed. We added cold water. And since popping that baby in the fridge, this conversation has taken place 100 to the 5th power times:

Is it ready yet?

No.

Hilarious.

I slept in today until nine am. I felt deliciously lazy. When was the last time you got out of bed at nine? The kids had no school and Husband got up early with them, so I stayed in bed and grasped at my dreams a little bit longer. I woke up because my friend had called to let me know she was on her way over. She was supposed to arrive at ten, but was running early. I immediately set to straightening the house up—dishes, quick sweep, bathroom check.

They arrived (with bagels – score!) and the reason she came over was for our kids to play while we sampled the Juice Plus chocolate shake mix powder I had just bought. Ironically, she is the actual Juice Plus consultant, but had never tasted the chocolate. She’d only tried vanilla. We blended up a couple drinks and enjoyed our chocolate smoothies while the kids played.

After they left, my daughter had a need to change her underpants and there was only one clean pair left because our washing machine broke almost a week ago, and we were already behind on laundry at the time. She found the final pair of clean underpants unacceptable (she wanted “flower” underpants), and the situation escalated quickly into the kind of face-off/tantrum that can only happen when two females of the same, stubborn mindset are in disagreement with one another (’You will put these one!’ ‘NO!’).

I managed to procure one last final pair (I remembered that I kept a spare pair of clean ones in her backpack and it miraculously had flowers on it), and then decided it was time to do the laundry. It’s been years since I had a need for a Laundromat, so I had no idea where one even would be. I flipped through the phone book and then realized I should call my Sister in Law and use her washing machine. I promptly called her with the words “I need to come to your house and wash underwear.”

Two hours later. I am now at home, and the kids are playing Dora the Explorer and a wave of tire has whooshed over me. How can I be tired when I slept in until 9am?

A realization: I never drank any coffee today. I was busy as soon as I woke up, trying to get ready for my friend’s arrival and then we went straight into chocolate shakes.

No coffee… so this is what it feels like… zzzzzzzzz…

1. Bits and Bobbins– written by someone I actually know, it’s all about fashion and she is fabulous
2. Breathing Words — she is a beautiful writer and I have no doubt she will one day produce the great work of Chinese American literature and this is your opportunity to say you knew her when (btw, Joyce, are you done yet?)
3. Flutter — there are no words for her beautiful writing, but I’ll try anyways. Striking? Compelling? They really don’t do her justice
4. Sunny Side Up — lives in my neck of the woods, always funny, and surfs more than I dare to dream
5. What Works for Us — what works for her works for me too. Come often, and ready to laugh. She’s always got a new post.
6. The Wild Koba’s Music Box — great music blog. Always learning about some new band. Also written by someone I know.
7. Scribbit - I’m sure you already know who she is, but she’s funny and turns out great recipes and there’s a free giveaway every Saturday of a really cool thing and she does a monthly writing contest that I won once and have failed to remember to enter every month since (maybe I subconsciously want to go out a winner?)

And some new discoveries for me:

8. Compost Mom — I only just came across Daisy this past month, but already I love her blog. Lots of gardening, which is something I’m always claiming I’m going to do more of, so hopefully, the more I read Daisy, the more inspired I’ll become to finally move up a step from what I’ve got going on.
9. Stuff Jen Says - her latest post on Chuck Norris made me laugh, because we all know I’m a glutton for Chuck Norris
10. Cheaper Than Therapy - cheaper than therapy, for me too, because she makes me laugh, and laughter is good for the soul.
11. A Goddess in the Kitchen - A food blog. In her most recent post, she writes “I think that Elvis and JFK are beaming gamma rays down from the Mother Ship on my tomatoes.” Frankly, I can’t imagine why you aren’t clicking over RIGHT NOW to read her.
12. Life on the Edge - another recent discovery that I am enjoying. Clever titles, quick reads.
13. Condo Blues - in a single post, she references John Waters, discusses kitsch, and shows off home decorating jobs she’s pulled off. I am smitten.

I guest blogged over at Hayden’s Ferry Review!
Other Wordless Wednesday shots here.

I have a post up at the blog for the literary journal, Hayden’s Ferry Review, describing my experience at the Santa barbara Writer’s Conference. Stop by and check it out!

All these headlines about the World Youth Day going on in Australia right now got me thinking about my own World Youth Day experience.

I was 16. It was in Denver. My school had organized a field trip for the event, but it cost a reasonable sum of money that my parents did not have. At the time, I was a model Catholic, and my home church decided to foot the bill so I could attend. I was excited because I was going on a trip without the family. To a place I’d never been. To see the Pope. Best of all, my best friend was going on the trip with me, J (who is getting married in September – holla holla! – to a guy I introduced her to – double holla! holla!).

We rode a bus for a ridiculous number of hours. Over 24. There were delays. We ate at Cracker Barrel and Arby’s. I argued with this jerk in senior year over something inane that enraged me to the point that I considered making a rude remark about his mother. (I’ll even tell you what it was: “You only got voted class president because everyone felt sorry for you because your mother died.” Yeah. High school was dumb.) That was the “not cool” portion of the trip.

In Denver, we stayed at a sweet hotel, the Loews Giorgio. Having been on many family trips where we stayed at such snazzy locales as Motel 6 and the Cheap Z’s Inn (I didn’t make that name up), the Loews Giorgio was overwhelmingly nice. Especially the bathrooms, which were luxuriously roomy and full of free shampoos that I duly stole.

And here is where the true confessions starts, ie more information than any of you will ever want to know about me (you are warned).

As I mentioned, we were eating Cracker Barrel and Arby’s on the 24+ hour bus ride. Then we arrived in Denver, where we attended Mass at the Mile High Stadium and walked around downtown Denver unsupervised and eating whatever we wanted. This turned out to be not such a good idea for me and my stomach.

The problem, though, is that I am uncomfortable defecating in public, or anywhere where other people might know and whisper “it’s her.” I know I am not the only person who suffers this, (based on humorous email forwards I read from time to time) and I know this is something every human does, so really, what’s the problem? Be that as it may, my body shuts down and refuses to allow me to go.

I don’t remember exactly, but I believe the trip was 9 days long. So you can imagine how this went. I managed to sneak into a few bathrooms on my own here and there, but I longed for the relaxing content of just sitting on a toilet and going without fear.

Well, approximately night 4 (and by approximately, I mean I don’t remember so I’m just saying), the three girls in the room with me had gone to sleep, and I realized: Now’s my chance!

I went into the bathroom. To be extra careful (what if one of them woke up?), I turned on the shower. I did my business. Ah, my stomach, my friend, I did you well.

I took my shower. I got out of the shower. And while drying off, I noticed something funny about the toilet. How the water level looked conspicuously low.

I flushed again.

There was a gurgling sound, and then – yes, you see this coming, don’t you? – the water level began to rise. And rise… and rise… and rise.

I did not know what to do. I was only 16. When a toilet clogged, I ran for my dad. Or brothers. Or mother. Or grandmother, for that matter. But a fancy hotel with my friends? I threw all the towels onto the floor to soak up the spilling water, thinking, well, at some point, the water is going to stop. Alas, I was wrong. When it became clear that the water was going to seep onto the carpet within the next couple minutes, I ran into the room and bit the bullet. I woke up J. “J,” I hissed. “We’ve got a problem!” (Yes, I did say “we”)

I dragged her to the bathroom which she took one look at, then immediately walked over to the toilet, lifted the top off, and pushed down on the flush valve. The water stopped. Wow, I thought. She’s a genius.

She turned around. “What did you do?”

What was I to do? Tell her the truth? Tell her how I had clogged the toilet? Or lie. Lie, while in attendance at World Youth Day as a model Catholic to see the Pope.

“I used a lot of toilet paper to clean off my makeup. I guess I used too much.”

Funny thing, it wasn’t a hard story to believe because if there was one thing anyone could know about me in high school simply by looking at me, it was that I wore a lot of make-up. I was big on liquid eyeliner and lipstick. And everyone knows that high school girls get crazy with their make-up rituals. I honestly did use a lot of toilet paper to remove my make-up. But we (you faithful readers and I) all know that wasn’t why the toilet clogged.

We contacted the Loews Giorgio front desk and they sent a plumber up. He fixed us up real quick, removed the soaked towels and had some dry ones sent up. His only comment was that “someone put too much toilet paper in the toilet.” Which coincided with my bs story, so it all worked out.

But there you have it. The truth is out there. The story plagued me for a while. The rest of the trip, everyone in our bus group at one point or another said, hey, didn’t your room’s toilet clog because you were taking off make-up (for goodness sake, how was this a good piece of gossip????), and when we got back to J-ville and all our friends asked us separately how the trip went, the other two roomies in my hotel room would jerk their heads at me and say “she clogged our toilet taking her make-up off.”

But I tell ya, I’ll take “girl with too much make-up” over “the girl who took a shit” any day.

It might start sounding like we eat Japanese food all the time over in House o’ Riley, considering the other day’s escapades and the fact that yesterday we went to a Japanese steakhouse for Sister in Law’s birthday. However, according to Wikipedia, teppanyaki is not a common way of eating in Japan. I feel so cheated and lied to and wrong. Could Mary or Where is my Brother? help me out on this one - yes or no, would one be able to find teppanyaki in Japan?

Regardless of its authenticity, we went to a Japanese steakhouse last night.

I like teppan restaurants because it is built-in entertainment for the kids. And it is food that everyone can eat, though it does require a slight amount of juggling from our chef. The Boy eats chicken. Little No Limit eats fried rice, heavy on the egg. Husband eats rice and veggies. I eat steak or chicken or seafood or veggies or tofu – I cannot be contained (the original No Limit here – represent!).

As a bonus, Little No Limit and The Boy eat with chopsticks, which is both fun to watch and means they take their time eating instead of gobbling it up instantaneously. (Does anyone know why the word instantaneously is necessary? Isn’t it just a longer way to say instantly? Where’s Anu Garg when I need him?)

But the reason last night was extra special was that the ENTIRE FAMILY was present. My family, both Sisters, Niece, Nephew, Brother and His Brood, Proud Parents, Uncle, and Cousin. I do not believe there has ever been a family event where every single one of us was present. And yes, we caught the moment on camera. I haven’t seen the photo yet because it was on Sister in Law’s camera, but you damn better believe I’m getting a copy of it, even if it means driving to her house to get it.

All in all, a good night.

Yesterday, Mother in Law showed up for our Thursday lunch with a bag of groceries and the words, “Let’s make our own sushi!”

Being as experimental as the next person, I said, sure. We invited Sister in Law over and Nephew, and the party had begun. When Other Sister in Law got wind of our project, she and Niece joined in as well. In other words, my hour long lunch with Mother in Law turned into a six hour party with ten. Eleven, if you include this guy:

Yes, our entire process was watched over by Mr. Cucumber Man, who entertained The Boy, Little No Limit, Niece, and Nephew over the course of our sushi rolling. His hair is made from eda mame and those are plum pulp legs.

Little No Limit enjoyed making her roll – she was a big fan of spreading out as much sticky rice as possible. The Boy made a sushi roll of crab, avocado, and cucumber because of his no-rice lifestyle, and for those of you who ever wondered how the nori sticks together without rice, the answer is not well. Husband made vegan rolls of cucumber and avocado and tofu. I made crab and cucumber. Mother in Law was a big fan of adding toasted sesame.

Everybody put their own spin on the sushi, but none so much as Niece. Niece got creative and rooted through my fridge looking for “other things” to put in a sushi roll. I was really hoping she would use relish because everyone knows gross is funny. She couldn’t stomach the idea of relish; however, this seemed okay:

“Can I eat?”
“I don’t know. You can try.”

All in all, not a bad experience for the first time making sushi. I just might have to try this again.

Recently, my niece and I were driving to her house, and I said, “Do you want to stop at Starbucks?”

I enjoy asking my niece this question probably as much as she likes hearing it, because we are both slaves to our beverages. She loves the fraps. I love the lattes. Plus, she stays in the car with the kids and receives a free drink and I get to indulge in a few blissful moments of Eponine time (because I’m “On My Own”).

She asked if I ever gave the employees fake names to write on the coffee cups, and I thought, why the hell would I do that? And she told me that some girls she knows (but never her personally) like to give silly names, like “Sexy Mama” and well, I admit, I had a good, long laugh at the notion of a 15-year-old telling the beatnik dude behind the counter at Starbucks that her name was Sexy Mama.

So what would you tell them your name was, if you wanted to give them a silly name? The more I thought about it, the more answers I came up with. Just remember, you have to say it with a straight face:

1. Cowgirl – YEEEEHAW! Get me some straight up black coffee, I likes ‘em hot! Boy howdy, Starbucks ain’t gonna know what him ‘em.
2. Sexy Mama – Well, as stated above, I didn’t make this one up, but it’s Just. So. Me.
3. McLovin – I actually asked the girl behind the counter if people gave her fake names and she told me that this was a popular name choice among the guy set. There you have it.
4. Humbucker – Husband turned me on to this word. It’s a guitar-related item, but doesn’t it sound more like something sexual? Or is that just my dirty mind?
5. “I Have No Name” – but the key to saying this is that you have to imitate the blind guy in Oh, Brother Where Art Thou. Ideally, your Starbucks employee will respond, “That there may be why you’re having trouble finding gainful employment” or if they’re that damn beatnik employee, maybe they will respond with bad, forcefully written poetry
6. Bone Lick – admittedly, this is not the name for a person, but it is the name for a place in Kentucky, as I was informed by Veronica over at Toddled Dredge; thank you, once again, Veronica, for making me laugh
7. Eponine – well, as already stated, I refer to my in-line time for coffee as Eponine time
8. Cosette – hell, let’s just cover all those Les Mis names
9. Fantine – see above
10. Genevieve – to be honest, I always wished this was my name when I was younger. Now’s my chance to live out a FANTASY!!!!!!!!
11. Mr. Spock – just to see who laughs and who thinks I’m dip wad
12. DJ Moses – there is a long story behind this but let’s leave it at, this was a nickname I had in college for a rap I made up that opened with me impersonating Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea
13. Luke – Mainly, I want to use this name, so that when they yell out ‘Luke!’ I can yell back, in a trembling, angst-ridden voice “I’ll never join you!” or please, please, PLEASE, let them have made the wrong drink, just so I can say, “Frappucino? No… no… that’s not true… that’s IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!”

Needless to say, I plan on subjecting my Starbucks employees to irritation at its finest. Wish me luck.

(More lists of thirteen here)