So I have been working on a post detailing how I make my lettuce wraps. I just realized I can't explain it. I took the recipe and almost completely changed it. I add more, omit some things and I don't even use lettuce any more. We started eating the mixture over rice. It's more filling and tastes better as left overs. Oh and "it's less messy" as Matt says. He's right.
I took all these pictures of the process and even loaded them onto a post. I began explaining and then realized, "this is lame-o!"
Here's what's happening in my less than one thousand square foot world. Cooper has a terrible cough, Chloe has watery eyes and I took a shower yesterday in order to wake myself up. I am still in my jammies. It's so cold outside that I'm pretty sure Hell froze over and I'm thinking the Lord was coming but changed His mind when he realized the wind chill is some where in the teens. I need to go grocery shopping tonight, but I feel like I need to load up on carbs in order to have the energy to complete that marathon that I haven't been training for. I'm going to bet I will be shopping with ALL of Bartlesville and the idea of that gives me the creeps. Why? Germs!! I can only use so much anti-bacterial hand sanitizer before I become an alcoholic and seek medical attention for an overdose. I will smell good however. The laundry is piling up in the hall and in Coop's room. I'm too much of a pansy to take the clothes to the dryer. If you recall our dryer is in our shed- OUTSIDE!!
Chloe insisted we watch cartoons. So I put in Brother Bear and cried like a baby at the end. I couldn't stop people. Geez, it's a tear jerker. I cried yesterday when I saw those people being helped off the plane that landed in the river. Makes a whole new ending to the joke "In an AIRPLANE down by the river!" (It's supposed to be van.) I became sad that Bush is leaving. I know people don't like him. I do. He left the White House today for the last time. Chloe and Coop's first President is in the books.
I just realized I need to trim my nails. Cooper is eyeballing me and yelling through his crib slats.
Oh and the worst part? I turn 29 next week. Woe is me.
The best part?
Him. He loves me bunches.