Eater of Pre-licked Corn

Our three day weekend of family time and laziness is at an end. I knew going into it that we wouldn't be going out and about doing much, so spending time doing stuff with the kids was going to be the main menu, which is as it should be.

My son decided that it was a GODZILLA weekend. The proof of how much I love him is in that I sat through 3 90's era GODZILLA movies, and have one more on tap yet. I was experienced with the older movies, the ones from I don't know what era, that they used to show for free at the Artcraft theater in the summers. The versions from the 90s spent too much time developing plots, seriously just bring out the monsters. I feel like there could be a whole franchise of these movies just made in professional wrestling style. Two monsters enter, one monster leaves...you know, like Auntie Infinity likes.

We also played with the hose and got unbelievably wet and gross. This seemed to be a big hit among the tiny humans at my house. Charlie believes the hose is best served by directly putting it to your chest.

Julia and her friend Temper played hopscotch and ran around the yard like nuts. Playing outside was probably my kids favorite part of the weekend, apart the wry repartee in the Godzilla movies.

My favorite part was watching Jim Nabors sing at the Indy 500. I cried my EYES out and when he got to chime in with GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES I cried again. All my memories of rushing to the track "before Gomer sings" came flooding back and the younger version of me sat screaming at the TV for three hours. I even had a beer. Well it was one beer. It took me three hours to drink it.

My Hoosier "just make do" self made a bad decision at dinner time though. I decided that surely half a chimney of charcoal was enough. Yeah I'd make do, it would be ok, no problem. Grilling corn and steaks, it was not ok. I couldn't get enough heat going to make it do much more than slightly brown the meat, and warm the corn. The husks got a bit crispy on some but not like awesome grilled corn should be. Eventually it was late, and we had to finish them both in the kitchen and surrender to reality.

Even partially grilled corn is far superior to just plain old boiled corn. That smokey flavor and deliciousness was still there. We topped it off with parmesan and butter, and Louis and I were as happy as being at the fair. I was thinking about over our weekend, of playing outside, and Godzilla, and just spending time together and it was about then as my mind wandered during conversation that my husband asked if I wanted Miles ear of corn. He wasn't eating it.

What he had done, after getting it buttered and parm covered, was sit and lick it for about five minutes, possibly longer.His face was covered in butter and little white flecks of cheese on either side of his mouth. Louis said "Eww you're not serious?"

I picked up Miles corn and buttered it up. "Louis, I gave birth to you all,I'm not afraid to eat after you."

He stared at me like I was crazy as I cheesed it and began to eat. He opted for a fresh ear as I dined on the pre-licked version. And that is probably my favorite moment of our holiday weekend.

Having a family to share pre-licked ears of corn with, is the best thing ever.


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Eater of Pre-licked Corn

Our three day weekend of family time and laziness is at an end. I knew going into it that we wouldn't be going out and about doing much, so spending time doing stuff with the kids was going to be the main menu, which is as it should be.

My son decided that it was a GODZILLA weekend. The proof of how much I love him is in that I sat through 3 90's era GODZILLA movies, and have one more on tap yet. I was experienced with the older movies, the ones from I don't know what era, that they used to show for free at the Artcraft theater in the summers. The versions from the 90s spent too much time developing plots, seriously just bring out the monsters. I feel like there could be a whole franchise of these movies just made in professional wrestling style. Two monsters enter, one monster leaves...you know, like Auntie Infinity likes.

We also played with the hose and got unbelievably wet and gross. This seemed to be a big hit among the tiny humans at my house. Charlie believes the hose is best served by directly putting it to your chest.

Julia and her friend Temper played hopscotch and ran around the yard like nuts. Playing outside was probably my kids favorite part of the weekend, apart the wry repartee in the Godzilla movies.

My favorite part was watching Jim Nabors sing at the Indy 500. I cried my EYES out and when he got to chime in with GENTLEMEN START YOUR ENGINES I cried again. All my memories of rushing to the track "before Gomer sings" came flooding back and the younger version of me sat screaming at the TV for three hours. I even had a beer. Well it was one beer. It took me three hours to drink it.

My Hoosier "just make do" self made a bad decision at dinner time though. I decided that surely half a chimney of charcoal was enough. Yeah I'd make do, it would be ok, no problem. Grilling corn and steaks, it was not ok. I couldn't get enough heat going to make it do much more than slightly brown the meat, and warm the corn. The husks got a bit crispy on some but not like awesome grilled corn should be. Eventually it was late, and we had to finish them both in the kitchen and surrender to reality.

Even partially grilled corn is far superior to just plain old boiled corn. That smokey flavor and deliciousness was still there. We topped it off with parmesan and butter, and Louis and I were as happy as being at the fair. I was thinking about over our weekend, of playing outside, and Godzilla, and just spending time together and it was about then as my mind wandered during conversation that my husband asked if I wanted Miles ear of corn. He wasn't eating it.

What he had done, after getting it buttered and parm covered, was sit and lick it for about five minutes, possibly longer.His face was covered in butter and little white flecks of cheese on either side of his mouth. Louis said "Eww you're not serious?"

I picked up Miles corn and buttered it up. "Louis, I gave birth to you all,I'm not afraid to eat after you."

He stared at me like I was crazy as I cheesed it and began to eat. He opted for a fresh ear as I dined on the pre-licked version. And that is probably my favorite moment of our holiday weekend.

Having a family to share pre-licked ears of corn with, is the best thing ever.


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Memorial Marmalade

I have never been a jam or jelly person. At all. It probably stems from the fact that I'm just a picky eater and slathering something on an already perfect piece of buttered bread is just overkill to me. I like to appreciate flavors singly, as well. Not such a fan of a bunch of flavors all running together. So you can see how jam or jelly, regardless of it's tastiness, just has never really been my cup of tea.



Until recently.



We picked up some Fuzzy Navel jam at the Civil War and Rail museum gift shop. And it's pretty darn good. Each time we've had it on biscuits or toast with dinner, I've compulsively told my oldest boy the story of how much my Grandmother Drake loved orange marmalade. She was addicted to it. When I was really little, it was a big deal when people would return from Florida and bring her a jar or two. You couldn't get that stuff up north - back in the day. I tell it like it's important. I don't really know why, I just feel the need to tell it so I do.



This morning, on Memorial Day, I sat down at my computer to read the news and have a little toast before heading out to a friends cookout. After I buttered my toast - I looked into the fridge and saw the little jar waiting for me. So I put some on my toast and walked over here to the shiny metal box of diversions to read.



Looking at my toast, spread thin with butter and orangey/peachy shmear - I remembered my grandmother's breakfast toast at her formica table. There would also be a hunk of fresh honeycomb in a square ceramic pedestal dish - made specially FOR the honeycomb from her neighbors beehives. Sometimes, you'd find a squished bee in it. Your legs would stick to her vinyl covered chairs in the summer.



Eating breakfast at my grandma's house is one of the best memories of my childhood.



I guess I do know why I tell the marmalade story after all.



*I leave you with a picture of my twins at the cookout we went to today.



Yes, that tub is full of water.
Yes, Baby Birth of Cool HAS his shoes and socks on.


Good times.

Memorial Marmalade

I have never been a jam or jelly person. At all. It probably stems from the fact that I'm just a picky eater and slathering something on an already perfect piece of buttered bread is just overkill to me. I like to appreciate flavors singly, as well. Not such a fan of a bunch of flavors all running together. So you can see how jam or jelly, regardless of it's tastiness, just has never really been my cup of tea.



Until recently.



We picked up some Fuzzy Navel jam at the Civil War and Rail museum gift shop. And it's pretty darn good. Each time we've had it on biscuits or toast with dinner, I've compulsively told my oldest boy the story of how much my Grandmother Drake loved orange marmalade. She was addicted to it. When I was really little, it was a big deal when people would return from Florida and bring her a jar or two. You couldn't get that stuff up north - back in the day. I tell it like it's important. I don't really know why, I just feel the need to tell it so I do.



This morning, on Memorial Day, I sat down at my computer to read the news and have a little toast before heading out to a friends cookout. After I buttered my toast - I looked into the fridge and saw the little jar waiting for me. So I put some on my toast and walked over here to the shiny metal box of diversions to read.



Looking at my toast, spread thin with butter and orangey/peachy shmear - I remembered my grandmother's breakfast toast at her formica table. There would also be a hunk of fresh honeycomb in a square ceramic pedestal dish - made specially FOR the honeycomb from her neighbors beehives. Sometimes, you'd find a squished bee in it. Your legs would stick to her vinyl covered chairs in the summer.



Eating breakfast at my grandma's house is one of the best memories of my childhood.



I guess I do know why I tell the marmalade story after all.



*I leave you with a picture of my twins at the cookout we went to today.



Yes, that tub is full of water.
Yes, Baby Birth of Cool HAS his shoes and socks on.


Good times.