Because time is not much of an issue...

Aisling and I found out today -- totally by accident, of course -- that Zuzu can fit into the clothing made for the Build-a-Bear Workshop bears and bunnies that Aisling used to play with but had long since packed away.

Here she is modeling a Hello Kitty sweater in a nice, warm red. We also have plans to put a frilly tutu on her and maybe a little pair of jeans and a t-shirt with penguins on it.

You have to believe me when I say that I never thought I would be the kind of person who would dress dogs up in clothing. So far, this madness has been confined to sewing fleece jackets for Wimzie, because she's terribly, terribly old and gets chilled. But oh, now that we know that that box full of BABW clothes will fit the puppy, new vistas have been opened up to me.

I have totally lost it. I mean LOST. IT.

Menu Plan Monday

Thank HEAVEN for Laura and her menu planning idea! As I was making this week's menu plan last Friday, big snow was forecasted. I knew the grocery store would be a madhouse, but I thought, I ought to just get out there and buy the week's groceries and get it over with. Thanks to my menu plan, my shopping list was streamlined down to the last carton of eggs, and that included all the ingredients for the Super Bowl snacks I made, too.

As predicted, ALDI was packed to the rafters with frantic shoppers grabbing snack items, toilet paper, bread, milk and all the rest, but the girls and I sailed through with my list in twenty-eight minutes from start to finish, and that includes bagging our own groceries and loading them in the car.

Here's the link to Laura's site, I'm an Organizing Junkie. Here's her excellent menu-planning template, which I print out and put on a clipboard for easy access. And I have my own chart that follows my favorite grocery store's aisles, but Laura's printable grocery list template might prove to be useful to you as well.

Menu Plan for the week of February 8, 2010

Monday: Spicy Beef Quesadillas and corn casserole

Tuesday: Breakfast for Dinner! Scrambled eggs, sausage and potato puffs

Wednesday: meat loaf, mashed sweet potatoes and green beans

Thursday: Baked pork chops and stuffing

Friday: Grade School Chili with crackers and peanut butter sandwiches, vanilla sheet cake

A saintly victory

We stayed by the television until the very end last night -- as far as football goes, that was a pretty exciting game, although I do admit to sneaking away to watch an episode of Buffy with the girls -- and this morning it's only fitting to offer huge congratulations to the New Orleans Saints and their fans. New Orleans really deserves this victory, not only for doggedly making their way through to the playoffs, but also because this win meant so much: If there's ever a big city that deserved some happiness, it's New Orleans. I wish all the little cities and small towns who have suffered so much in the wake of Katrina had football teams to win the Super Bowl, too.

So while it was a little sad to see Patr--...I mean, PEYTON and the rest of the Colts leaving the field without the victory they'd hoped for, it was still a pretty positive time. It was nice seeing Drew Brees in front of the cameras, a smile lighting up his entire face as he warmly and humbly thanked the fans for sticking with them. And seeing him hold his baby son? Awwww.....you gotta love the sight of a man holding his baby.

Half-time, though? Wow. Did I ever call that one right. Someone needs to set an age limit on who can perform at the Super Bowl. The Rock Gods of Ages Past just need to get some nachos and a beer and enjoy the show from their lift-recliners. My husband, who appeared to be traumatized by the show, was, "Someone needs to make them stop. Now. Faster than now." And I got an email from a younger friend today that seemed to sum it all up:

"The Who. As in 'Who were those geezers?' right?"

I usually pay attention to the commercials, but this year, I seemed to be up and doing something at just about every single break. Heisman trophy-winner Tim Teabow's "celebrate life" commercial was one I did see and it was so tame, I wondered what on earth had made those pro-abortion groups and "women's" groups so angry. Because if I hadn't known beforehand what it was about, I wouldn't have known what it was about. It was nice, but hardly the strident anti-abortion message I was expecting to hear.

E-trade, the online investments and securities firm, tried to score again with yet another baby-as-a-financial-wizard commercial and that was really, really cute a couple of years ago -- I still can't even think the word 'shankopotamus' without smiling -- but isn't it maybe time to get a new idea? I saw a Bud Lite commercial about a husband butting in on his wife's book group so that he could snag a beer and it was silly. And I saw one Doritos commercial that made no sense whatsoever, but I could never eat Doritos again and still live a happy and fulfilled life with no dragon breath, so I'm probably not the best person to judge.

There's kind of a weird after-the-holidays feel to this cold Monday morning. Yesterday was a fun day, staying at home out of the snow and the wind, eating lots of festive snacks. The merriment seems to have dissipated completely, concurrent with the alarm going off at 6:30. Ugh.

Super Bowl 44 - Colts and the Saints

Carrie Underwood is singing the national anthem as I type, and as usual, I am a teary, sniffling mess. Why can I not hear that song without being a complete dope? Aaaagh. At least we're not at a party this year; we were invited to Jeff and Julie's house, but we can't go because of the puppy. Zuzu is too young to go for so long without being let out to do her business.

Anyway, so it is Super Bowl night. I am really proud that the Colts are there, but I have to admit that I am usually completely unaware of sporting events of any kind. Basketball, football, competitive hair-brushing, skiing...it all just leaves me cold. And baseball, which is my husband's favorite sport? Baseball seriously makes me want to poke my own eyes out.

But it's always nice when the hometown team does well, isn't it? That Patrick Manning is such a nice boy. Ooops, coin toss! The official emblem came up heads and the Saints have the ball. I just asked my husband if this favors the Colts or the Saints and he said a mouthful of football jargon that I did not understand and then finished up by saying that he doesn't think it really matters. Although he'd prefer that the Colts have the ball at the beginning of the second half, which I assume is what's going to happen since the Saints won the toss? Whatever.

It's an absolutely beautiful evening in Miami. All kinds of camera flashing going off in the stadium. Some of the players look grimly determined, others look like they need a quick trip to the bathroom.

For this Super Bowl, I have to say that I'd be happy if the Colts won, but I'd also be happy if the Saints won. New Orleans has been through so much in these years since Hurricane Katrina and it seems to me that this would be a nice boost in morale for the whole city.

Whoa. My husband just told me that the Saints quarterback, Drew Brees, went to Purdue. I've been informed that we are diehard loyal I.U. fans here. Don't know if I can support the Saints in any way if I want to keep living here.

The Who is going to play at half time, which is just kind of sad. I mean, Roger and Pete are my parents' age, which seems.....weird. I do hope they're not going to sing "Teenage Wasteland," unless they dedicate it to their grandkids: their children are my age or slightly younger. Sadly, John and Keith are no longer with us, so I'm assuming they've hired new help for the bass guitar and the drums.

Am I being ageist? Not sure on that. I do know that back when I was in high school and taking guitar lessons every week, I had that famous poster of Pete Townshend on my bedroom wall with his fingers bloody from playing his guitar and the thought of him up there on stage, grey and balding, makes me feel a little ishy. And Roger Daltrey? He looks less like a rock god, with his undone shirt and his mop of long hair and more like our dearly loved Rupert Giles on Buffy, played with such perfection by Anthony Stewart Head. Maybe it's time to quit when you could be mistaken for a staid, tea-drinking member of the Watchers Council.

Commercials, commercials....the Tim Teabow commercial that pro-abortion advocates were throwing such a conniption fit about was just on and I'm, like, dudes. What was the problem with that? Then there was a really funny Doritos commercial that made Meelyn and my husband laugh, but I missed it. Hyundai seems to be trying to corner Toyota's market.

"Third and six," some announcer just said. Crowd cheering like crazy. I have no idea what "third and six" means and find myself unable to care much. Maybe it means I should get my third piece of chocolate sheet cake and eat it in six seconds flat?

Anything to support the team. Because I'm like that: Caring. Encouraging. Loyal. Willing to eat chocolate cake until it hurts.

RECIPE: Ragù Americana (American-style meat sauce)

This recipe is the one I use all the time and often refer to here on InsomniMom. It is partly my mom's, who first mined it from the 1960 edition of Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook. But it's also my friend Celia's, who lived in France and Italy for many years and Knows Things about cooking that I will probably never figure out, even if I sleep with Julia's books under my pillow for the rest of my life.

This is an easy sauce to make, makes the house smell wonderful and homey, and makes enough for two meals plus a couple of lunch portions for our family of four. It goes over any kind of pasta, although our pasta of choice is always thin whole-wheat spaghetti. You can also use half of the recipe in lasagna, and the other half in baked spaghetti or even maybe the Red Sauce and Rice casserole I've been working on (recipe coming, you lucky things!)

In Italy, "ragù" describes a red sauce made with meat, which is just what this is. I've also added the word "Americana" to the title because this is a sweet sauce; Americans tend to like a hit of sugar in their tomato-based sauces. Think of things like barbecue sauce and ketchup and you'll understand what I mean. If you want a sauce that is more authentically Italiano, just don't put the sugar in, although I'd still recommend a teaspoon or so to cut the acidity of the tomatoes.

This sauce is a super-sneaky way to add some vegetables into your kids' dinner. Process them a bunch to make them invisible, or just grate them if your peeps don't mind seeing carrots.

Ragù Americana

Ingredients:
1 pound ground beef
1 pound sausage (we use spicy sausage, but Italian sausage is also very good)
2 cloves garlic, diced (or one teaspoon of garlic powder)
1 large onion, diced

1 large can tomato juice
2 small cans tomato sauce
2 small cans tomato paste

2 carrots, grated or puréed
2 celery stalks, ditto
1 cup spinach leaves, cut chiffonade or puréed
about ten fresh mushrooms, thinly slice or puréed

1 1/2 tablespoons dried oregano leaves
1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme leaves
1 1/2 teaspoons dried basil leaves
1 tablespoon salt
4 tablespoons brown sugar
1 bay leaf

1 cup of hot water
1/4 cup red wine (optional)

Directions:

Brown the beef and the sausage in a large Dutch oven with the garlic and onion; drain and return to the stove. Over a medium heat, add all the remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to a slow simmer, stirring every twenty minutes or so. Allow to cook on stove for about two hours. Serve immediately over pasta. If there is sauce left over, allow to cool and then put in a refrigerator container. Store for up to one week.

If you'd like to prepare this in your slow-cooker, simply omit the cup of hot water. Brown the meat ahead of time and put everything in the cooker all at once; stir to combine and cook for four hours on low heat.

************

One thing I like to do is make up small snack-sized plastic bags of the herbs and other dry ingredients ahead of time. That way, when I'm preparing the sauce, all I have to do is empty out a pre-measured bag into my Dutch oven, even though I've made this so many times, I just measure everything out in my palm anyway.

If you don't want to add the fresh vegetables, you don't have to. The sauce is much richer and more complex in flavor if you do add them, though. I made this for years and no one knew that all those vegetables were in it. It was my little veggie secret.

This sauce freezes very well. If I intend to freeze it, I pour it carefully into gallon-sized freezer bags, remove as much of the air as possible from the bag, and then freeze it flat on a baking sheet. If you divide the sauce in half, it will fill two gallon-sized freezer bags about half full.

Naughty girl

This picture of Zuzu is a little blurry because this girl never stops moving. She is a whirl of motion, a bundle of puppy energy who has such an innocent joie de vivre, it's impossible to be mad at her for some of her more outrageous pranks.

This morning, for instance. For the past few days, a box of tissues has been my constant companion. Until about half an hour ago, that is, when I happened to place it on the coffee table. Which was right next to the ottoman. Which was conveniently pushed up to the couch. Making, as I'm sure you can envision, a handy bridge for a furry little darling to walk across, which she did. And then spent several feverish moments in silent stealth, plucking tissues from the box and then chewing them into confetti.

I walked into the living room with my cup of tea -- I'd been out in the kitchen happily stirring in some Splenda and just a touch of milk and thinking what an excellent morning this was for sitting on the couch and reading my book with the deep snow and the fretful wind outside while I was all snug and cozy inside -- and was suddenly puzzled because it looked like snow was strewn all over the carpet.

Then I saw the culprit, standing stock-still on the ottoman and looking at me innocently with half an unchewed tissue hanging out of her mouth. "Tissue? Oh! You mean this tissue? Ummm, well, it's a funny story how all these tissues got out of the box, really amusing. Hershey?"

Hershey just looked at me and then back at Zuzu. If a dog could ever be understood to say, "I SO DID NOT MAKE THIS MESS. SHE DID," it was that dog, right then.

"Zuzu...." I said accusingly. She gave me a sheepish look and then bolted off the ottoman, careening around the entire downstairs of the house, frantically chewing that tissue as she ran. I was in hot pursuit. When she finally had shredded the last tempting piece, she began to bark and hop around, bounding right over Wimzie's back as Wimzie stood sourly looking on.

Wimzie gave me an irritable glance. "See what happens when you refuse to even consider the idea of boarding school?" she asked me with her eyes. "GRRRRR!" she said to Zuzu.

Zuzu, unrepentant, bounced back up on the ottoman and went back to the tissue box. There were a few still left in there, after all. Might as well make a done deal of it!

"Not so fast," I said, seizing her and delighting in the smell of warm puppy. She snuggled under my chin, making these sweet little crooning sounds. I've never had a dog that did that before, nor one that so loved being cuddled. "I am going to have to be really severe with you about the mess you've made. So, um, bad girl."

Hershey and Wimzie traded a long look. Clearly, they don't feel she gets in trouble for anything.

RECIPE: Chicken & Broccoli Casserole (oven version)

I wish I'd thought to take a picture of this delicious, down-home-cookin' casserole before it got finished up -- I purposely bake it in a 9x13 dish because it makes such yummy leftovers and we really enjoy having it for lunch -- but I didn't think of it until too late. I suppose I could take a picture of my empty baking dish as proof that we enjoyed it very much? No? Oh well.

This is pure, sentimental, 1950s, back-of-the-mayonnaise jar kitschy comfort food, first baked back in the days when Mom wore an apron over her dress while she cooked; I can't eat this without thinking about June Cleaver and Marian Cunningham. I don't want to think about the calories and fat content; all I know is that is tastes good, feeds everybody and makes enough for multiple meals, so here goes:

Chicken & Broccoli Casserole (oven version)

Ingredients:

2 cans cream of mushroom soup
8 oz Cheez-Whiz (or half a large jar, whichever is easiest)
1/2 cup light mayonnaise
1 soup can of hot water
1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 1/2 cups Minute Rice, uncooked (either white or brown will work)

1 medium onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 can water chestnuts, diced
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper

2 bags frozen broccoli cuts, thawed (or fresh, if you'd like that better)
2 cups cooked and cubed chicken

2 cups crumbled Cheezit crackers or similar, stirred with 2 tablespoons melted butter (for topping)

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 9x13 casserole dish with non-stick spray. In the baking dish, stir together the mushroom soup, Cheez-Whiz, mayonnaise, water and lemon juice. Add the rice, onion, celery, salt and pepper and stir to combine. Add in the broccoli and chicken; stir to coat.

Place casserole dish in oven and bake for forty-five minutes or until bubbly. Top with crushed crackers and bake for ten more minutes. Remove from oven and serve immediately.

Sorely afflicted

I have some kind of weird thing wrong with me -- okay, you know what? Just shut up because I can totally hear what some of you are thinking, PAT -- that is producing a number of PHYSICAL SYMPTOMS that refuse to be linked categorically to anything in the smörgåsbord of illnesses listed in the many online wellness sites I frequent. Have you had this? And if so, did you feel reallyreallyreallyreally sorry for yourself? My husband tells me that a couple of guys he works with have come down with this same thing (one of them left work yesterday to go home to bed which just tells you that I am not a big faker), which means that my husband, who is feeling perfectly well, has brought this scourge home with him and allowed it to jump on me with a hey-nonny-nonny and get busy with the torment.

(N.B. If your response to this illness is "I threw it off by taking a couple of aspirin and then went on to work, where I was productive and sunny-tempered for the entire fifteen hours I was there, I beg you -- please don't contact me.)

Symptoms:

1. sneezing and runny nose
2. fatigue
3. muscle and joint achiness
4. headache
5. a bad attitude

I have no fever, no sore throat, no cough and no will to do anything other than have many cups of hot tea brought to me while I watch House Hunters International on HGTV: I felt even sicker yesterday afternoon when that lovely British couple in the Cognac region of France chose House #3 when it was quite clear that House #2 would have been a MUCH nicer property.

I don't think this is the flu, because Aisling and I had the flu three years ago and I remember sitting on the couch watching House Hunters International on HGTV and praying for a merciful death to smite me. Oh, the punishing fever, the hit-by-a-city bus aching, the jackhammer head, the vague nausea....it was so bad and I don't feel anything like that. Because if I did? You'd probably be able to hear my tortured laments from wherever you're sitting. I am not one to suffer in silence.

Anyway, the picture I posted is a grouping of ingredients a friend of mine uses to make a hot toddy, which she assures me is the ONLY way to cure what ails you. I have everything except the ginger and the Jack. I wonder if we have a store in town that home-delivers such items as an act of mercy?

This is my first cold or whatever-it-is of the season. How have you made it through the winter so far?

Punxsutawney Phil is a big jerk

AS IT TURNS OUT, it is a bad thing when Punxsutawney Phil -- that blackguard, that villain, that FURRY FIEND -- sees his shadow on Groundhog Day.

I have been misinterpreting his shadow-seeing all these years and now feel that I want to send him a strongly worded letter that urges him to make his intentions a little more clear. Like, say, "if I see my shadow on the morning of February 2, everybody in the United States named Shelley gets a check for a million dollars."

That would cut down on confusion, now wouldn't it?

Sorry about the rest of you, but we need to respect Phil's boundaries.

See, the reason I've been confused, as I pointed out to Sharon, is that here in Indiana, to know that we have only six more weeks of winter is a wonderful thing, a little gift to us from Mother Nature. In Indiana, it is entirely possible to wake up on Easter morning and have to shovel six inches of new snow off the sidewalks, but spring? It NEVER comes in mid-March. Ever. There might be a couple of those teaser days, the ones where it gets up into the sixties and a bunch on dimwits go outside wearing shorts and flip-flops and I don't care what people say, my feet like to feel a little bit of warm sun on them, so just hush. But March is best known for throwing massive amounts of snow and ice at us, usually just in time for the regional basketball games.

So for Phil to hint that spring will be coming as early as the middle of March? That's just a cruel joke and one I would have thought unworthy of a being as benevolent as Phil, but it is now late afternoon and my innocence has been UTTERLY DESTROYED.

Punxsutawney Phil has some good news this morning

Today is Groundhog Day and of course I was GLUED TO THE TELEVISION to find out whether the handsome and clever Phil, pictured there at the left, was going to see his shadow. Because more than six weeks of this horrible cold, the snow, the ice, the grey and gloomy skies? I don't think I can take it.

Fortunately, it's a lot sunnier this morning in Pennsylvania than it is here -- as I type this at 7:29 a.m., it is still discouragingly pitch black outside -- and Phil did see his shadow, which means that we have only six more weeks of winter instead of, say, eight or nine. The horror of eight or nine more weeks of this bone-searing cold makes me want to just keel over. So thank you, Phil.

Don't you think I should get extra points today for being able to type "Punxsutawney" this early in the morning? I haven't even had a cup of coffee yet.

Menu Plan Monday

As always, many thanks to Laura and her blog, I'm an Organizing Junkie, and also to my friend Sharon at The Bird's Nest, the first for hosting and the second for informing me about Menu Plan Mondays. This has been a lot of fun and LIFE HAS BEEN MUCH EASIER.

While browsing Laura's site, I found some really helpful

grocery list and menu planning templates that I printed out to use this week. You might find them useful, too, or they might inspire you to create your own, customized for your grocery store's aisle layout, as an Excel spreadsheet. Or maybe you're one of those people like me who has to buy items at about three different groceries each week; it sure would be helpful to have one sheet with three different lists on it. Anyway, Laura has generously made her templates free for all to use, so take a look and see if they can make your shopping chores easier.

Monday -- whole-wheat spaghetti with meat sauce and homemade bread

Tuesday -- Comforting Beef Pot Pie

Wednesday -- chicken and noodles with mashed potatoes

Thursday -- Baked Italian Casserole (this is a new recipe I'm working on that uses the leftover meat sauce from Monday)

Friday -- homemade pizza

You know what's just never good?

Something that's never good is when you go to the grocery and the cashier scans all your food items and you reach out to give her your money with a used dryer sheet hanging out of your sleeve. This isn't quite as bad as exiting a restroom with a festoon of toilet paper trailing from your shoe, but almost.

At least it is a mute testament that your clothes are clean.

The only laundry cling-on story I've ever heard that is truly awful, yet very funny is one my friend -- let's call her Frieda Jane -- told about her husband.

Frieda Jane and her husband have one daughter, and when that daughter was about four years old, they were all headed into the church one bright summer Sunday. The husband was walking slightly ahead of his two womenfolk so that he could open the door, and as he was walking, Frieda Jane noticed something very strange peeping from the left leg of his trousers. Whatever it was was being jostled down as he walked and was soon going to fall out altogether. What puzzled her was that it seemed to be....pink?

The item fell out a couple of steps later and was immediately recognizable as a pair of their daughter's Disney Princess underpants. Frieda Jane and her daughter saw the unmentionable garment at the same time and Frieda hurriedly stooped to pick it up, but her daughter felt the need for editoral commentary.

"Daddy," Frieda Jane Junior squealed in that piercing tone of voice children use when they're getting ready to say something that will wake you up in the middle of the night, flinching, for years to come: "Daddy? WHY ARE YOU WEARING GIRLS' PANTIES?"

Frieda Jane jacknifed over in laughter and her husband turned around, mortified, because it was that church time when everybody arrives at once and there were roughly three thousand other people all hurrying for the doors, but not hurrying so much that they couldn't register F.J. Junior's eyebrow-raising remark.

Frieda herself was still laughing about it as she told a group of us at our monthly Moms' Night Out dinner. "At least, " she quavered, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "at least it didn't happen as we were going forward for communion."