Social Gracious

Senior Citizens 2.0, A Cautionary Tale

My father in law never used a computer during his career despite being a Director at a large railroad corporation up through the early 1990's.  We have always assumed that perhaps his administrative staff took care of typing documents and other computer based tasks.  It wasn't until he retired that he began to harness technology to do his bidding, boy did he catch up fast.  Since I have known them my in laws have been pretty up to the minute with the latest technology so I have a hard time imagining the days before Granddad used a PC.  

In general their use of technology is a boon to us, they have easily navigated the world of email, photosharing and the internet.  They are perplexed when other seniors don't see the benefit of current technology.  They use GPS, take digital pictures, travel with a laptop and each have a cell phone.  They don't text but I'm betting that's next.  Despite loving gadgets ourselves we often have trouble finding them gifts for a special occasion since they are usually one step ahead of us.  For seventy somethings they are really cutting edge.

This occasionally has a few drawbacks.  UberGeek and his older brother are often called upon to tend to their parents technology.  UberGeek happily performs various upgrades, troubleshoots the wireless network and otherwise provides technical support.  He never complains, proud of his parents technical savvy.  

Recently I suggested that Granddad and Granny add Facebook to their list of technical accomplishments.  Stepping it up to the Web 2.0.  They had an upcoming European tour to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary and we thought it would be fun to track their trip online.  Also, it makes it easy and fast to share pictures among family members.  I didn't really anticipate any adverse consequences.  I helped them get their FB page up, showed them the ropes and they were on their way.  

A friend of mine, Web Warrior Princess, started a social club together with a friend, about five years ago.  The intent was to get more young professionals interested in charitable giving to worthy causes. The way she went about this was genius, she called the club the Thursday Night Drinking Club (THNDC).  For a small fee people show up at local venues, receive tickets for a free drink or two and the money raised is donated to many local charities.  Who wouldn't want to go?  A couple weeks ago Warrior sent me an invite to one of their events via Facebook.  I accepted and the information was posted on my Facebook Wall, I'm always up for charitable events that cost less than $100 a plate and this happened to the be the fifth anniversary party for the THNDC.

 

Not long after this post I received an email from Granddad stating that he was notified via Facebook that I had joined a drinking club and he wanted to make sure that I would not be drinking and driving.  I reassured him that it was in fact a charitable organization with a little alcohol on the side and that I don't drink and drive.  Typically I force UberGeek to be the designated driver if I plan to indulge.    I soon received another email stating that my father in law had Googled the Thursday Night Drinking Club and it appeared to him as if it was more alcohol and less charity.  I responded that at least they call a spade a spade instead of pretending to be a social club that is, in fact,  just an excuse for a bunch of people drinking together anyhow.  No response.  

I love my father in law dearly, he and my mother in law did a fabulous job of raising their children.  Of course, I married the very best one.  The fact that UberGeek is such a great father and husband is testament to the power of their love for him and each other.  My father in law is notorious for his debating powers and has very strong opinions.  Before we had children I loved to engage in debates with him.  My husband does not engage, having been his son for forty years he has learned his lesson.  I was fresh meat and I come from a family that enjoys debate among its members.  For ten years now Granddad and I have enjoyed a back and forth of this type.  I like to think that I am providing a service that both of us enjoy.  Unfortunately my vim and vigor has been tempered by exhaustion since having my two children and I am not able to keep up quite as assertive a debate.  Granddad also is occasionally cautioned by his better half when we really get into it to be careful of his blood pressure.

So it was that I headed out this past Thursday night to the fifth anniversary of the Thursday Night Drinking Club.  I had a great time with UberGeek, friends and a couple colleagues who were in attendance.  The band was great, the cause was worthy and I enjoyed my wine.  I just had to keep quiet about it the next day in the world of 2.0.  Please, no one show Granny and Granddad how to use Twitter.  

The Social Butterfly and The Geek, A Love Story

The fact that UberGeek and I met at all was only due to the fact that both of us did something that was totally against our natural sensibilities.  It was 1998 and I had transferred to Northeast Florida from Virginia as a professional headhunter for a good sized Information Technology company.  When I arrived at my new office I was the only unmarried and unattached person.  It seemed to me that I had moved to a foreign land where I suddenly morphed into an old maid.  Thankfully I did make some new friends and kept myself pretty busy.   What I didn't have were successful dates, it seemed that most of the people I was introduced to I had little in common with.  After six months or so of this bleak dating landscape I was ready to throw in the towel.

One day I was cruising the local online version of the newspaper since I had bothered our Director to place an ad online rather than in print.  This was during the time that sites like Dice.com and Monster began to eclipse traditional paper media ads.   Still, many local professionals viewed the online version of the help wanteds and we placed a bubble ad at the top of the newspaper site driving people to our website.  While hunting through the site I noticed that they had an online dating section, kind of like a low budget beta version of Match.com.  My friend Candid, who had wandered into my office was joking with me and saying that we should put in some of my really picky criteria for a mate and see if any single male listed met them.  The only problem was that I had to put in an initial profile  for myself in order to look at any of the other listings.  I did, then I put in all my picky criteria for a mate, just as an experiment.  College degree, non-smoker, no kids, between 25-30 years old, I might have even specified a height range but I honestly can't remember.  I like tall, less than 5'10" need not apply, which is funny since I am really short.  My suspicion is that it's a Darwin kind of thing, I have a biological need to give my offspring the best chance for life at a normal height. 

Then I hit enter.  My search returned a lone result.  I stared at it in shock for a long time, then I went back to work.   It was a few days before I returned to that search but the lure of that lone result was strong.  I really wanted to know who met my criteria.  Finally my curiosity got the best of me and I sent a message to the result.  I heard back from the result via email after a few days and when I learned his occupation I thought, mmm, maybe not.  He was a software developer, not my cup of tea, I'm a people person.  It was fine for me to make an income finding techies jobs but I didn't necessarily want one in my house.  So I asked the defining question, the one that would give him a chance or wipe him off the slate.  "Are you a Client Server developer or a mainframe programmer?"  If you are not a geek this won't mean much to you.  I was an IT recruiter and it meant everything.  Mainframers conjure up mental images of Milton and his red stapler or Quasimodo at a keyboard.  Unfortunately, as a high tech recruiter this stereotype was often fulfilled when candidates walked into my office for the first interview.  Client server guys definitely tended to be cooler, hotter and younger.  Web developers even more so.  I was not going out with a mainframer, no way.

Client Server came the reply.  Game on.  After an email repartee that went on for a few weeks we agreed to meet.  I received many dire warnings from friends and office mates that Client Server boy might come to the date bearing an axe and wearing a hockey mask so we agreed to meet at a very busy restaurant near the beach.  I asked Client Server boy to describe himself so that I could recognize him at the restaurant.  He said that he had been told that he resembles George Hamilton without the tan.  I had no idea who this was and had to look it up.  When I arrived at the restaurant I saw a man resembling the picture I had pulled up of George on the internet, true enough, without the tan.  He was easy on the eyes and although his outfit was a little too Britches Great Outdoors for my taste I figured that could always be modified. 

When we started chatting over a beer and an appetizer it was like finally finding an old friend in a foreign land.  Come to find out, our dads went to the same college, Virginia Tech, were both engineers and used to have offices in Old Town Alexandria, VA just blocks from each other.  We were also born in the same hospital and grew up in Northern Virginia just outside of DC.  The more we chatted the more things we discovered we had in common.  His parents had retired to the same tiny town in the Northern Neck of Virginia where my grandparents and my family in general has resided since before the Revolutionary War.  To top it off, we also have the same favorite food and favorite ice cream.  I know, it's creepy almost. 

Client Server boy had been urged to put his information on the same site where I'd found him by an old friend.  She had been talking with him about how difficult it was for him to meet people since he had been traveling for his job so much and was primarily working in a strange town where he didn't know anyone.  Flying back and forth to different health care facilities across the country is not conducive to having a robust social or dating life.  She finally convinced Client Server boy, despite a strong initial hesitation, to try out the new medium called online dating.  I was the only person he ever met that way.  Two years later, she was one of our bridesmaids.  As you can guess, Client Server boy became my UberGeek. 

The B Team Underwear

About ten years ago a friend of mine got engaged, one of the things I most remember about that period of time was what her fiancee announced soon after he gave her the beautiful and sizable sparkler on her ring finger.  What he said was, "Don't go breaking out the B Team Underwear now that you've got me."  At the time I myself was not engaged but I sure knew what he was talking about, every woman does.  The A Team Underwear is the attractive, lacy stuff that is impractical, not always comfortable and comes from a store whose primary "secret" is clever positioning and if necessary, plenty of padding.  You wear it on a date even if you have no intention of ever showing it to the person you are on the date with.  A Team Underwear can make you feel dangerous in spite of the boring black librarian  suit you are wearing on the top layer.

The B Team Underwear resides in a jumble in the back of the unmentionable drawer.  It consists of cotton, practical, comfortable foundation garments, sometimes even the dreaded granny panty will make an appearance.  I imagine that the B Team Underwear is something no man prefers but rather something that he slowly gets used to.  Similar to a minor blister when you are running.  Irritating, but not worth taking the shoe off and upsetting an entire race over.  During the dating period the unmentionable drawer is full of A Team finery.  As  a relationship progresses and years go by, children are born and priorities change, the B Team Underwear begins it's slow domination of the drawer until it takes over almost completely.

Perhaps this domination of my unmentionable drawer never would have been an issue, except for one thing.  My sister, Lauren, came to town.  My sister is eight years younger and since I do her wash when I visit my mom's house (she still brings it there) I know she herself has very few B Team pieces, she is still batting for the A Team, no surprise, she's not married and has no kids.  As if that wasn't bad enough, my sister is a photographer.  Although she has a day job she is good at, and that also pays those annoying bills that her artistry doesn't support, her primary passion is her craft.  What does all this have to do with underwear you might be asking?  Well, Lauren is an amazing photographer.  When she was here last weekend she took some shots of Diva and Eddie Haskell. 

I was thrilled to have more photos of the kiddos.  Even better, I didn't come along and she had them on her own all morning.  My sister is awesome at family photos, as you can see.  However, she has another specialty and had a photo shoot set up that she wanted my help with.  You see, she also does boudoir photography.  If you are not familiar with boudoir, they are artistic photos that women have a photographer take of themselves in lingerie or in the buff, often with a cloth drape, for their significant others.  This is particularly popular as a Valentine's or wedding gift for someone's sweetheart. 

To prepare to assist her with this shoot my sister had me studying some photos she had taken with a volunteer model in a previous shoot.  Um, no B Team Underwear, anywhere; they were really beautiful.  The more I saw these gorgeous photos the more I thought of my own cavernous, dark and dusty unmentionables drawer.  After dutifully ironing drapes for the shoot, thinking about props and talking about poses that might be right for the client with my sister I got ready to go to bed.  I approached my unmentionables drawer and pulled it open.  What I saw was another B word, Beige, with a capital B.  Except for the occasional cotton colorful it was all beige and comfortable.  I was batting for the B Team and they had achieved total domination.  I thought about my sister's beautiful photos and the feeling wearing the A Team can give you even when no one else can see it.  After all these years UberGeek still deserves the A Team, at least a few days a week.  Me and my Visa headed out to try and learn Victoria's Secret the very next day. 

The Greatest Rip Off On Earth and the Palm Roses of Passion

Today we took Diva and Eddie Haskell to see the "big" circus for the first time.  For the last couple of years we have taken them to the Shriner's circus which they really enjoy.  It's sort of a small venue and since they have done so well there we thought it might be time for the Greatest Show on Earth.  So I loaded up my purse with juice boxes, animal crackers and trail mix, UberGeek stocked up on cash and off we went.  

Once we shuffled past the PETA protesters, looking guiltily at our feet, and made it inside there were kiddy wonders everywhere.  I really wanted to get each of the kids one of those lighted wand type things as a souvenir.  We had passed on the $15 souvenir program to save some of our cash and I figured this would be an indulgence we could handle.  I walked up to the novelty stand, Diva already eyeing the lighted pink wand with the star.  I asked how much the lights were and nearly fell over when the woman manning the stand announced that they were each, no matter what style, $20.  Since I have two four year olds and there is absolutely no chance of them sharing, my purchase of two plastic light wands was going to run me $40.  I just couldn't do it.  I knew what would happen to those wands, we had purchased them at the Shriner's, for much less money, but same idea.  They break in a couple days or are quickly forgotten by the children and placed in a toy box or closet somewhere only to be discovered months later and thrown away.  I broke the news to Diva that we could not buy the lights because they cost too much.  She handled it well and I was proud of my daughter.  

We stopped at a stand to get something to eat, then it was off to find our seats.  Once we were settled in and the kids had juice boxes and something to eat they were happy watching the preshow.  The vendors walked up and down the aisles selling their wares.  There was a man in front of me with a four year old daughter; he inquired about the price of cotton candy, the vendor replied $12.00 but it came with a cheap hat.  The poor man looked as if he was going to keel over.  Then UberGeek was thirsty and decided he didn't want to share my water since he had been sick.  There was a lemonade vendor going by and typically at any other function we would not ask about the price of a lemonade, however, after the light wand and cotton candy sticker shock we thought we should.  Thank goodness we did, they were $9 a piece, to me that is the price of a good martini, not a lemonade.  UberGeek scampered up the steps for a water.  

The kids enjoyed the show, it became too loud for Eddie Haskell so we had to leave at intermission.  Next time we'll bring ear plugs.  Walking toward the parking lot I noticed a man sitting on the sidewalk with what looked like palm fronds all around him.  He looked down on his luck, maybe homeless, and I wasn't quite sure what he was doing.  At a glance it looked like he might be making something, kind of like people do at Palm Sunday with the palm fronds but I couldn't tell what.  We made it to the parking lot and packed up the kids.  Then I asked UberGeek for a ten spot.  I'm sure after eight years of marriage he knew what I was about to do. I walked back to the man on the sidewalk, by then his palm fronds had taken the shape of roses, unlike any I had ever seen on Palm Sunday.  I asked him if they were for sale.  He was very friendly and said that he noticed me looking at them on my first walk past. He explained that they were Palm Roses of Passion, for the Passion of Christ.  Then the man told me I could have a rose for a donation, whatever I thought was fair.  So I asked for two for my ten spot.  It was an agreeable price and I picked the two most similar I could find to avoid a fight between Diva and Eddie Haskell.  I thanked him and headed back down the sidewalk.  

When I got back to the car and knocked on the window the kids saw the roses and wanted to know what they were.  I explained that a man had made them out of a palm frond just for them.  Diva sniffed it deeply with her picky nose and pronounced it good.  A much better souvenir than the light wand.

The Queen of Steam

I was supposed to go for a 14 mile run with my usual training group this morning at 6AM. Fortunately for me, my running partner, Superfuzz, called last night to say that she didn't think she could get up that early.  She would not get home from work until around 2AM and didn't think three hours of sleep would cut it.  I suggested that we run at the more humane hour of 8:30 together down at the beach and Superfuzz agreed.  When I put down the phone I did a little happy dance thinking of the extra hours of sleep I would gain.  

The alarm never had to be set as two four year olds will wake up in plenty of time to be ready for a run at 8:30.  By 7 both Diva and Eddie Haskell had settled into our bed to watch cartoons one on each side of me while UberGeek started his pancakes.  I surfaced in and out of sleep comforted by the warmth of their little bodies and the hum of the Little Einsteins.  The world was beautiful this morning.  Eventually I crawled out of bed and threw on my running clothes.  I was really looking forward to running in my new Adidas Adistar Control 5s  and it was a beautiful day.  I filled up the water bottle and kissed the little people and UberGeek and was out the door.

I made a quick stop at Starbucks before pulling up next to the familiar squadcar in the parking lot and off we went.  Superfuzz and I have a good rhythm together, we run the same pace unless one of us is injured or ill.  Five miles went by quickly with our constant chatter and we decided to turn around so we would still have time for breakfast afterward.  I couldn't believe it when we got back to the start of our route as ten miles went by so quickly.  

After breakfast with Superfuzz I returned home.  When I opened the door my favorite thing in the world happened, I could hear Diva yelling, "Mama, mama's home!"  That excited cry over my appearance never fails to grip me and it happens pretty much every day when I get home from work.  It's one of the little payoffs that make being a parent worthwhile.  Even when I don't feel worthy, for just a moment each day I am someone's rockstar.  Diva's enthusiasm for me quickly faded when she got close to me.  She has a very sensitive sense of smell, as do I.  We both have a propensity for sniffing things, food, clean laundry, pretty much anything.  We also have a low tolerance for yucky smelling things.  After a ten mile run I was included in that particular category.  Diva said what she usually does when I return from a run, "Mama, you are smelly."  I agreed and kissed her on the nose before heading toward the shower.

Our shower is the bomb.  We are remodeling our bathroom due to a leak and the shower and tub are the only things we have completely finished.  It has two showerheads, one with bodyspray, and they are all height adjustable.  This is particularly important since I am 5'2" and UberGeek is 6'3" so his body spray setting is my face blast.  I feel better about waking up knowing I have all that spray and steam to look forward to.  When I step into the shower it is difficult to step out.  In my shower I am the Queen of Steam.  I am seriously hoping our hot water heater dies soon so I can replace it with one of those on demand hot water heaters that is both eco friendly and provides a never ending stream of hot water.  As things stand now I am limited in my shower length by the smallish size of our current unit.  It might be a good thing because on work days I have trouble getting out of the shower in a reasonable amount of time as it is.  In the morning the shower perks me up and invigorates me.  After a run the shower feels great on my muscles and obviously makes me more acceptable to Diva's olfactory senses.  If only I had access to a larger supply of hot water!

One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila Snore

So last night I went out.  This is not extremely unusual, I do occasionally go out, although not particularly often on a school night.  What happened was that an old friend of UberGeeks who used to work with him at a large software corporation was in town.  I will call him Road Warrior since we have been trying to catch up with him for the last six months and our schedules never match up. Although he sort of lives here he flies between a number of cities plus he is taking graduate courses in his nonexistent spare time.  Anyhow, it finally worked out that the planets were aligned and UberGeek, my friend Candid and I headed toward the beach to meet up with Road Warrior at a Mexican restaurant called TacoLu.  

TacoLu was recommended by a friend of mine at work and it was mentioned that they have very good margaritas.  I am not a big drinker, I like a glass of wine while making dinner or going out but in general I don't overdo it.  Margaritas though are my Achilles heel; I really like the taste of them, something about the sweet and sour drink with the salty rim.  TacoLu specializes in margaritas, in fact, they have a margarita list.  

The three of us got there early and started in on a round of drinks, chips and guacamole.  By the time Road Warrior arrived we were in need of a second round.  This is where the story should end.  However, after we finished our second round and our server came offering a third I had had just enough tequila to be brave.  Candid urged me on to a third, giggling at me, having not seen me so giddy or chatty I'm sure in quite some time.  "UberGeek is driving" she reminded me.  So I did it, I ordered a third drink.  I really can't blame Candid, they were truly tasty margaritas; I did it to myself.

When I was in my early twenties three drinks didn't mean much in terms of not feeling well in the morning.  I can remember going to school during the day, waiting tables until my shift was over at night and then going out until the wee hours of the morning with my friend Marilyn.  We would then inevitably have the morning prep shift at the rib joint where we worked together the next day.  The only thing we needed to be ready at 9AM for our shift was mostly clean clothing, a quick trip to the Hardee's drive through for a greasy biscuit and we were on our way.  How I functioned on so little sleep and so much imbibing of cheap alcohol I am not sure.  Times they have changed.

After TacoLu we arrived home around 10:30 or so, a real late night by no one's standards but my own these days.  We chatted with our super amazing babysitter for a while, then I wasted a little while on email and headed to bed after a tall glass of water.  I was very quickly fast asleep.  I awoke with a start at around midnight to see a tiny and shadowy figure by my bed.  It was Diva, who informed me that we had not come in as promised to wake her up and kiss her after returning home.  I walked her to the potty and then back to her bed.  She requested a snuggle so I laid down beside her for a moment and woke up an hour later.  Then it was back to my own bed after staring at her beautiful and perfect sweet face in sleep.  

After crawling into bed the chorus began.  UberGeek starts to snore when he stops running due to an injury.  This is because on his preferred lunchtime diet of soda and chicken quesadillas he quickly gains 10lb without the exercise although he refuses to admit this.  He has been injured since Thanksgiving so it has been loud in our bed since early December.  This is complicated by the fact that our dog, Lily, who shares our king sized bed, also snores.  There in our bed it was a cacophony of snores.  Obviously it took some time before I feel asleep again.

Morning came quickly.  I slowly rolled over to see if I would have any ill effects from the tequila.  Surprisingly, I did not feel hung over.  What I did feel was tired, exhausted in fact.  I wasn't sure if this was from the nocturnal disturbances or one too many margaritas.  I dragged myself to the shower and let the steaming water start to wake me up.  Surprisingly we were able to get everyone ready and packed into the car to head to preschool and I was on time for work.  I think the lesson that I was reminded of once again is that I no longer have the luxury of having only myself to worry about.    All of my decisions affect the little people who need cuddling in the night or the quietly snoring husband who is my best friend.  

I Am Not an Alpha Mom

There are a number of reasons why I will be passed over again this year for the Mother of the Year Award.  Last week I forgot about Pajama Day at school. Sometimes my daughter doesn't have an extra change of clothes since she has a penchant for waiting to visit the commode until the very last possible minute her bladder can stand it.  UberGeek will most likely forget to mention to me that we used up another set of extra clothing.  This means that Diva gets to wear home clothes from the school's community closet with an admonition to send them back right away!   

One incident in particular stands out of course.  This fall my twins’ preschool announced that each Friday would be Jaguar day and we were to attire our children accordingly.  This happened the previous year and my daughter, thankfully, had a leftover dress that still fit.  My son, however, had only a sweatshirt that obviously wouldn't work in early September.  So, being the conscientious twin mom that I am I did what I must.  I headed out to Wal-Mart the very night before Jaguar Day to purchase my son’s Jaguar finery.  First, I should give you a disclaimer; we are not really Jaguar fans at our house.  We hail from

Northern Virginia; I am a Redskins fan and UberGeek is a Dallas Cowboys fan possibly because he was the baby of the family and just had to be different.  Anyhow, I know little about the Jaguars.  We do go see them occasionally when a friend gives us free tickets or we win them or they happen to play a team that we do follow. 

I arrived at Wal-Mart to peruse the Jaguar wear.  I noticed that there was only one jersey left in my son’s size and I am thankful.  M. Jones I think, that is nice, Marion Jones, Matt Jones, Michael Jones, whoever you are I am glad your jersey is still here.  I grab the overpriced length of polyester and head to the register with purse at the ready.  I arrive home proud of my purchase.  I lay out the jersey on the kitchen table and UberGeek gives an audible groan.  “Matt Jones, is that all they had?”   “Yes, aren’t we lucky?”  I respond.  “Yeah, Matt Jones is the first round draft pick who didn’t amount to much, and who last year ended up with a cocaine charge Kristie.” 

By now of course the other overpriced Jaguars store with the annoying commercials was closed for the night and I realized that I had done it again, waited until the last minute.  The next day, at preschool, my sweet son would be wearing the jersey of an underachieving, drug offender.  All the other children of Alpha Moms would be wearing star player jerseys.  I resolved once more not to wait until the last minute, to really use my refrigerator calendar and to just generally be a better parent. 

OAMC How Kristie Got Her Nights Back

About six months ago I learned of the phenomenom sweeping the nation by the name of OAMC, or the Once a Month Cooking club.  I had participated in a variety of these for profit endeavors over the last few years including Super Suppers, Main Dish Kitchen, Dream Dinners and finally no-fuss Meals.  The idea behind these places was great, they do all the prep work and you go into a professional type kitchen with a group of friends, a bottle of wine and an hour or so and follow their recipes.  You go home with 6 large or 12 smaller ready made meals for your freezer.  The problem though was that UberGeek is relatively picky so he requires a pretty high quality meal.  Secondly, getting together a group of girlfriends who can agree on one of the predetermined dates at these companies was tough.  Finally, just when we would find one of these establishments we really liked locally they would inevitably go out of business.

A group of my twin and triplet mom friends and I began talking about starting our own OAMC where we could get together once a month at one of our homes, swap meals that we made up ahead of time, have a few hors d'oeuvres and chat.  We started researching the idea and some of us checked out Cooking Among Friends an online resource with info for starting your own club, recipes and an informative blog.  There was even contact info for purchasing those cool aluminum containers they have in the for profit food prep places.  We decided that we could do it and set about publicizing the idea with our twins and triplets group.  There was a response from about five women who would form our core group for the swap and we have since been joined by several more.

Since then we meet every month.  We each make ten meals, label them with contents and directions and freeze them.  We load them up in a cooler and head to the host's house.  When we arrive we typically have some food, drinks and good conversation.  Then we get down to the business of shopping each other's meals.  We get two meals from each of the members and since we bring 10 meals to swap we go home with 10 meals to put in our own freezer.  I have really enjoyed the experience.  UberGeek typically heads out to the freezer at the beginning of each week and pulls three out to stick in the frig.  Then he can decide which he wants to eat throughout the week.  I will then make a few fresh meals and we can also have the hurried family staple, hot dog or sandwich night which pretty much takes care of meals for the week.  The fact that they are labeled with directions also makes them easy to prepare for UberGeek who usually specializes only in breakfast cooking, boiling noodles or microwaved hot dogs. 

If you are interested in starting your own OAMC I highly recommend the following books to get you started with recipes, instructions and more:

Cooking With Friends

Don't Panic, Dinner's in the Freezer

Fix, Freeze, Feast

Last night my OAMC group met and my freezer is now full.  I want to include a recipe one of my OAMC twin mom extraordinaires shared with me.  It is for Macaroni and Cheese with Ham.  Not just any Mac & Cheese, but the most luscious, creamy, gooey, cheesy macaroni & cheese ever with the addition of ham to make it a complete meal.  UberGeek goes back for seconds which says a LOT!

Download Mac and Cheese with Ham

Bon Appetit

Breakfast UberGeek Style

 
Usually I am the acting chef around here, but in the mornings, UberGeek definitely wears the apron in our family.  This is a tradition passed down from his father who although very traditional in most of his duties, cooked waffles for his three boys every Sunday.  Sometimes those waffles even contained chocolate chips.  Most of the time UberGeek's cooking repertoire is limited to spaghetti from the jar, macaroni & cheese, microwaved hot dogs and spaghetti o's.  He can also do a mean ramen noodle if I am sick.  On the weekends though he pulls out all the stops. 

This wasn't always the case.  As soon as our kids were able to chew he was determined to continue his father's legacy.  The problem was that he had never had any experience cooking.  My mother in law sent us the recipe they had used for pancakes and waffles and he set about the task of learning.  I woke up on one of those first experimental mornings to find him attempting to beat the egg whites into stiff peaks with a fork.  It was really cute.  I handed him the hand mixer and told him I thought it would make his task easier.  Although I really wanted to step in and show him how to do everything I held myself back. 

It was the same when Diva and Eddie Haskell were newborns.  Some strange cave woman part of me reared up an ugly head and gave me a funny feeling when he handled his own children.  I wanted to shout out, "No, hold them this way, burp them that way."  I tried to shut up and let him do his thing, thinking that as long as he kept them alive he deserved his own relationship with them without me interfering.  I also tried to leave him alone with them on his own from relatively early on in their lives.  This was advice I had received from other twin moms and it was valuable.  On evening outings with other new moms, which you can imagine were often held at establishments that serve alcohol, many of the other mom's cell phones rang interminably.  Frantic husbands asked question after question including when their wives would be home.  Not my phone, it was almost always silent and still is.  I never breathed a long sigh and talked with the other moms about how incapable my husband was with our children.  He is my partner and for the most part he knows the drill.  It's true my daughter's hair might look scary if he gets her ready for school, or their clothes might not be exactly what I would pick out, but really, who cares? 

UberGeek soon mastered the delicate art of waffles and moved on to pancakes.  Let me tell you, he is magic with a spatula and a cheap electric griddle.  In our house we add chocolate chips for Eddie Haskell and UberGeek, blueberries for Diva and pecans for me.  As it turns out, UberGeek's father's recipe for waffles was not his own original creation.  It comes from that great reference you find in most kitchens, the Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook.  You know the one, red and white checked with navy lettering.  Bon appetit! 


UberGeek's Waffles

1 3/4 c. all purpose flour
1 tbs. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
2 egg yolks
1 3/4 c. milk
1/2 c. cooking oil
2 egg whites

1.  In a medium bowl mix together dry ingredients.  Make well in center and set aside.
2.  In another medium bowl beat egg yolks slightly, stir in oil and milk.  Add egg yolk mixture all at once to dry mixture.  Stir just until moistened; it should be lumpy.
3.  In a small mixing bowl beat egg whites until stiff (do not attempt with fork, use hand mixer). Gently fold beaten egg whites into flour and egg yolk mixture, leaving a few fluffs of egg white, do not over mix!
You know how to do the rest!

cal 171 11g fat Worth every calorie, just go for a run!

A Trained Monkey Could Do It

One of the perils of having a very smart husband with an engineer's mind is that it sometimes leaves me feeling slightly inadequate.  I often want to learn a new tech skill from UberGeek but he does not suffer fools (like myself) kindly.  Usually he ends up giving me a sigh and then pleading with me to just do it himself.  Our minds don't really work in the same way, I read novels, fiction, literature, biographies, anything I can get my hands on.  UberGeek only reads texts, technical manuals, articles colleagues are considering for publication, trade magazines and peer reviewed journals.  There are a couple exceptions, he has read the Autobiography of Tom Landry, Good to Great and Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses.  While I am always thinking of how things are related, he looks at all issues he encounters as problems to be solved. 

Up until this past August my husband and I worked for the same company.  He researches and develops new technology and I trained software and provided technical documentation among other duties.  Anyhow, at one point my coworkers and I learned we would be getting the opportunity to also be involved in some software testing.  This was something I had not done before and I was really looking forward to learning something new.  This was about the time that someone from another local healthcare company contacted me through LinkedIn to find out if I would be interested in a new position they were creating.  It sounded like a great opportunity but I was disappointed that I would not have the opportunity to learn the software testing process at my current company before I left.   One evening I mentioned this to UberGeek as we lounged on the couch with the kiddos safely in bed.  "Software testing," he guffawed, "a trained monkey could do that!"  "But," I insisted, "I wanted to learn it before I left Company A!"  This resulted in a promise that I could test one of his various leftover software products in our house for "fun" in my spare time.  Joy.

This was not the first or last time I have heard the trained monkey comment.  Monkeys in my husband's estimation are capable of quite a large number of IT functions.  Once I interviewed for a position that required Visio, a software I hadn't really ever used in any of my jobs.  I mentioned this to my husband and received one of his disappointed looks, "Visio, a trained monkey could use Visio, I can show you how to use it in five minutes, you can use Word can't you?" 

I feel some satisfaction in the fact that in one area I am technologically superior to UberGeek.  That area is social media!  UberGeek had no interest in Facebook until he saw how much fun I was having with it.  Then he began pressuring me to add him to my Facebook as a joint account.  I finally offered to create a page for him and he was up and running.  He also does not text, belonging to the 80s generation for whom phones are supposed to ring.  I am trying to teach him, after all, a trained monkey could do it.