Monthly Archives: July 2014

Video Tutorial of Cutting an Apple to Prevent Browning

B likes apples, but not the skin anymore.  When he eats apples at home I peel them.  However when taking apples with him, say for a snack to Summer camp, a peeled apple will be completely brown on the outside by the time he’s ready to eat.  He won’t eat brown apples.  I’ve tried tossing them with lemon juice, a lemon juice & water mixture, powdered citric acid and a powdered citric acid & water mixture.  He swears he can taste them all and doesn’t like it.

Some of you may be thinking, “But the skin is the most nutritious part!  You should not allow him to skip the peel.”  There are very few fruits and veggies that he does not like. He definitely gets plenty of them, so I am choosing not to pick a battle over the apple skin.  If I refuse to peel them he just won’t eat them and I don’t want him to avoid a fruit that he likes.  Besides, he eats the skin on carrots all the time.  We buy organic, so they don’t have to be peeled, just scrubbed clean.

When B was younger, and still ate the apple skins, I saw on a blog somewhere that a mom cut an apple a certain way to avoid browning.  I think her child preferred to eat apple slices instead of biting into a whole apple.  So when B decided he no longer liked the skins 2 years ago, I pulled that piece of information out of my memory bank.  Not sure if I am doing it exactly the same, but it works and he loves it.

B eats each slice of apple as if it were a slice of watermelon then eats the rest of the apple “meat” corners around the core.  I asked him to film me cutting his apple for camp this morning and here it is.  My first (of many, I hope) video tutorial!  Enjoy!


My Laundry Pet Peeve

I got up a little before 5am to use the restroom and, instead of heading back to bed, I decided to throw a load of laundry in.  There’s a pair of capris I’ve wanted to wear all week but they were dirty, and today I had enough time to wash and dry them before taking B to camp.  I unsuspectingly threw the load in the washer, checked Facebook, send the hubs off to work, ate my breakfast and welcomed B when he came downstairs.

When the washer was done, I went downstairs to throw the load in the dryer and found THIS – dun, dun, DUUUUUN!

laundryUUUUUUGH!  This is a laundry pet peeve of mine!  The laundry area is (relatively) clean, there is no evidence of an unfinished load, all I want to do is toss my load in the dryer and get the heck out of the basement (still haunted by memories of my older brother insisting that Darth Vader lived in our basement) and I find this – no one finished their load by taking dry items out of the dryer, folding them and putting them away.  *sigh*

I let the anger I felt towards those towels totally throw off my I’m-ahead-for-once-and-I’m-gonna-feel-so-confident-in-my-capri-pants-TODAY chi.  Or it is che?  Hold on…OK, I called the hubs to ask him which one was the appropriate spelling but he’s not answering.  His in that “black hole” of no longer in his car and unable to talk to me on his cell but not yet as his desk so he can’t answer his office phone…….bear with me…OK!  I was right the first time; it’s chi.  Che was a Cuban revolutionist.

You know, I remember seeing America Ferrera on Wendy Williams earlier this year and she was filming a movie about Che Guevara, wasn’t she?  Hmmm……Nope!  She’s starring in a movie about Cesar Chavez.  What was I talking about…?

Oh, yeah – laundry!  As I was saying, laundry is no picnic for any of us.  However, when you start a load, you need to finish it!  Because one of my shirts was in that dryer with the towels and now it’s a wrinkly mess.  If I’d known it was there before i started this morning’s load, I could have tossed it in the wash to get the wrinkles out and dried it again.  But now the load is already washed and the clean, wrinkly shirt will have to sit, unworn, until another load is ready to go in.  Errr.  Hold on, the hubs is calling.  Boy, am I gonna give him a piece of my mind about leaving that load in the dryer…

I’m back.  Um…turns out…I was the one who started that last load.  The hubs was kind enough to point out that I threw that load in the wash Monday afternoon when we got home from the pool……………………………………………………..

Well, It’s a woman’s prerogative to start and stop laundry whenever she wants!  And I’m gonna rock those capri pants, if I remember to take them out of the dryer!



Suburban Surfer

Dropping B off at camp this morning and parked beside a Suburban. The driver door opens and a boy of 6 or 7 climbs out the door and onto the roof.

He’s in PJs, slippers and a robe. He is doing all kinds of poses and stunts on the roof-  laying down, exercising, standing up, sliding from one end of the roof to the other.

I walked B up and checked him in, wondering all along how that boy’s mother would feel about what he’s doing.

Walking back to the car, he’s still up there, so I pull out my phone to take a picture. Didn’t get a chance because, all of a sudden, he says, “Uh, oh!” and starts scrambling off the roof.

From behind me comes a booming voice, “GIT OFF THERE, YOU KNOW YOU AIN’T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT NO MORE!”

I get in my car; she gets in hers.  I start up; she doesn’t. I pull out of the parking lot; she’s still there. I keep checking my rear view mirror until I can’t see the Suburban any more, and it’s still in the same space.

Who knew undershirts could cause such angst?


While folding the hubs undershirts on our bed Sunday afternoon, I started reminiscing.  (BTW, doesn’t our $20 yard sale comforter look great?)  Before I met the hubs, the only other male I knew that wore undershirts was my dad.  I guess that was another sign of the wonderful man the hubs was; one of many things he had in common with my dad.

I used to tease the hubs because he wore an undershirt all the time.  Not just under dress or work shirts, but also under polo shirts and t-shirts and it’s his pajama top when he sleeps.  I’d ask him why he didn’t go without one when he wore a polo shirt – it’s thick enough you can’t see through it, or a crew neck t-shirt – the t-shirt covers everything the undershirt does.  Even on hot, humid 90+ degree days he still wears an undershirt!  After a couple of years, I stopped teasing and cajoling him to lose the undershirts and accepted that I was in love with an ole fuddy duddy.  😉

Fast forward 10 years, we have a child and the hubs still washes his own clothes.  One day he came downstairs, all showered and dressed and cameo me for his goodbye kiss before heading out the door.  I admired him by looking him up and down as he walked towards me and stopped at his throat.  He had on a red polo shirt, top button undone, and instead of seeing the standard white undershirt, I saw bronze skin.  Different emotions flashed through me – disbelief, surprise, lust – and then one other emotion that I had never felt before in my life – jealousy.

Me: Wait.  What’s going on?  Why aren’t you wearing an undershirt? (with a touch of accusation in my voice)
The Hubs: I don’t have any clean ones left.  I thought I had one more, but I was wrong.  I’ll do laundry tonight.
Me: Then wear a dirty one.  Or change into a dress shirt and tie.
The hubs: What’s wrong with you?  I don’t need to change.
Me: Wherever you’re going, it can wait.  I’ll go wash your undershirts right now and you’ll be much more comfortable leaving this house with one on.
The hubs:  Will I?  What’s going on Jessie?
Me: (face turning red, breathing heavy, teeth clenched, lips pursed) I DON’T WANT WOMEN TO SEE YOU!
The hubs: HUH?!
Me: That little triangle of bronze skin showing where your shirt is unbuttoned hasn’t been seen by anyone other than me in over a decade!  I don’t want want anyone else to see it!  No other woman should be looking at it!
The hubs: I’ll button it up.
Me: NO!  The collar of the polo shirt is wider than the undershirt and women can still see you!
The hubs: You’re scaring me.
Me: (dissolved into puddles)

He didn’t change.  He didn’t put on a dirty undershirt.  He wouldn’t wait while I washed his clothes.  After holding me and passing me tissues while trying very hard not to laugh, he went to work just as he’d come downstairs.  He was amused and flattered that I was jealous.  I was mortified.  He came home that night to a drawer full of the clean undershirts from the hamper as well as others I’d bought that day to make sure he had an amble supply.  And I’ve been washing his undershirts ever since!

Musings from Monday

On Monday, B and I exited a store and were walking back to the truck when he said, “Mom, look up!”  It was an airplane flying overhead.  Living in the Washington, DC area, we have 3 major airports, so airplanes are frequent and low enough for us to tell which airline they are.  I grew up around DC and have always loved to watch planes go by plus, the clouds above the plane had a funky formation that was nice to look at, as well.

As I was looking up at all that beauty in the sky, I stepped right into a hole in the parking lot!  Almost dropped my bag as I tried to keep my balance.  Isn’t that just the perfect metaphor for life!  As soon as you take your eyes off of where you are heading, where you want to go, your goal, you wind up in trouble!

We get in the truck to head home and a man is singing on the radio.  “Is this Justin Timberlake,” I ask.  B gives me a huffy breath and says (with an eye roll in his voice), “I don’t know.”  Why did he answer me like that?   I thought about it on our way home and realized that at least one third of the songs sung by individual males (as opposed to groups/boy bands) on this pop station sound like Justin Timberlake to me!

Either Justin Timberlake has a ton of songs being played on this station or a lot of today’s male artists sound like Justin Timberlake.  Weeeeeeeeelllll…there is a 3rd option.  I only have one good ear…and a very short attention span…  Soooooooo…  I guess it’s possible that I just think every male sounds like Justin Timberlake.  But I don’t like that options so I am discounting it!  😉

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