Elephant and Piggie Need to Bring My Baby Back

We sat curled up together in the only rocking chair Alexis has ever known. It was carefully selected for her long before we knew she was a "her," long before we knew she would love books, long before we knew anything about the person she is. It's the chair we've sat in nearly every evening of her life. It's where adventures have taken place and where books have come to life. Once upon a time, I was the one with all of the words. I would read to her for hours on end. Lately, however, the tables have turned. It's her job to read to me these days.

She carefully maneuvered her way across the page, occasionally pausing for help when she didn't recognize a word. She has gotten pretty good at sounding things out, but she gets frustrated easily. It's better to help her quickly than to let her struggle and get upset.

"Two birds are making a nest on my head?" she slowly read. I smiled at her inflection. The kid is either a natural-born actress or a drama queen. She exaggerates everything when she reads.

"Why would two birds make a nest on my head?" she continued. My mind began to wander. That particular Elephant and Piggie book is one that I have memorized many times over. I don't really have to pay attention to know what's coming next.

"There . . . " I was jarred to attention. I didn't hear the rest of the sentence because I was stuck on "there."

"THERE."

Not "der."

"THere."

Alexis has so few words left that she pronounces like a preschooler. The "th" sound was pretty much the last one she had to fully conquer. And there it was. She had conquered it. I listened carefully as she finished the book. Every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME, she pronounced the "th" correctly.

A little bit more of the baby is gone.

Here's to hoping she hangs on to "icksgusting" a bit longer. 

And maybe the cheap plastic bead necklaces and that little lip sucking thing she does when she's tired. They both sort of make me crazy, but they're some of the last signs of "baby" she has.

Well, That Was Fun While It Lasted

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not real bright first thing in the morning. Every last creature in this house takes advantage of this fact.

Just ask the cats.

Ever tried herding cats? Ever tried herding cats when you're sleep-deprived and groggy and haven't even thought about coffee yet? It's delightful. And by "delightful" I mean "C'mon over some morning and I'll teach you some new curse words." Every morning I try to herd the cats down to the basement so that I can leave for work without them destroying the entire house. Max is the angel, so he just goes on command, but Powder and Ali translate "go downstairs" to "let's play Ring Around the Rosie." I run around in circles all around the house, clapping my hands and pleading with them to just go through the basement door. Pleeeeeeeease.

It was after a particularily harrowing game of Ring Around the Rosie that I found myself standing out by the pond, staring at the water. Something was off. Something wasn't right. Something was . . . missing.

If I had two working brain cells at 6:30 am, I would have known what the problem was immediately. Instead, it took me about five minutes.

There was a fish missing.

The BIG fish was missing.

I was still operating in a time zone often referred to as Dumb O'Clock, so the fact that a 40-pound fish was missing sent me into a weird sort of thought process. "Did he jump out of the pond?" I thought. The fish was seven years old and had never been a jumper before. We've had jumpers. They don't last a year, let alone seven years.

"Did something get him?" Yeah. I'm sure it's feasible that some random guy got hungry and decided to go fishing in our pond. Maybe the Koi was cooking on a grill at that very moment? It couldn't have been an animal because the pond is surprisingly well reinforced against such kinds of attacks. (One of these days I'm going to find a dead raccoon floating in that pond because in might be possible to get in, but grabbing something and getting out? Not. A. Chance.)

Still wading through my fog of not-awakedness, I started walking all around the pond. "It's not like fish can grow legs and just walk away," I thought.

I had that part right. Arnie had not walked away. On a whim, I opened the filter box. There he was. A large round peg that had someone managed to cram its way into a small square hole.

Just to paint the picture for you, the filter box for our pond is fairly large--maybe two feet across? It's the black thing at the bottom of the photo. It holds a huge pump which returns the water up to the top of the waterfall, two big filters that keep crud from getting into the pump, and a tall skinny plastic basket. The basket sits at the front and is designed to keep living things from going all the way into the filter box and ending up in the pump. Frogs in particular like to challenge the system and commit suicide, but the fish that live in the pond are all too big to get past the basket. Heck, most of the fish are too big to get through the itty bitty opening into the filter box.

Arnie was too big to get into the filter box. As in, I stood there staring at a dead fish trying to figure out how he could have possibly gotten in there. I'm not all that good at geometry that early in the day, but even now I still don't get it. It's like he somehow managed unhinge his jaw, fold himself in half, and then shrunk himself a few inches, but then went back to normal size once he was on the other side of the opening.

Once I was certain the fish was dead, it occurred to me that I needed to figure out how to get him out of the filter box. Except, I couldn't. He was . . . REALLY stuck. Picture Chris Farley in the little coat. THAT was how crammed into that basket the fish was.

I did what anyone in my position would do. I thought to myself, "This is why I'm married," got into the car, and drove away. Leaving problems for the husband, FTW!

Of course, when I got home later this afternoon, I wondered if I had actually seen what I thought I had seen. Mr. Husband wasn't home yet, so I wandered back to the pond. Yup, the fish was still missing. And, yup, he was still in the filter box. That whole thing where fish don't suddenly grow legs and walk away was terribly inconvenient right about then.

The husband eventually returned home and took care of the . . . uh . . . "problem." He has assured me that the fish inadvertently committed suicide. He somehow got his giant self into that filter box and couldn't figure out how to get out. There was evidence of thrashing and such, which SUCKS. If we had known, we could have intervened. Maybe we could have slathered him in Vaseline or installed one of those beepy things that goes off when a truck backs up or had air traffic control direct him. Something. Anything.

And now I'm REALLY pissed we went and picked him up from the pond store.

Nutella Nut Roll

While I'm not a big fan of the words, "I have a potluck at work tomorrow. Is there something you think you could make?" I have to admit something. Whether the phrase is "potluck at work TOMORROW" or "potluck at work NEXT WEEK," I'm probably not going to start giving it any real thought until I'm pretty much out of time. That's how I function. If there wasn't a last possible second, I wouldn't get anything done.

So when I finally had that "Aw, crap. I need to figure this out," moment last week, I pulled out my friend Pinterest to look for idea. Instantly, I knew what to do. Peanut Butter Cheese Ball. PERFECT!

Except that when I called Mr. Husband to tell him what he was taking to work, he was all, "Uhhh . . . most of my employees don't like peanut butter."

Ponder that for a moment. I sure did.

He continued on to explain that Eastern Europeans think peanut butter is gross and that it blew his mind because they'll eat Nutella and . . . HOLD THE SHOW. They eat Nutella? Well, then. I got this.

A little substitution and a little creative ingenuity and we had the answer. Nutella Nut Roll.

I made it again so that I could have some of it for when friends came to our house this weekend. Their reaction was the same as the people my husband works with--this is a winner. As in, people yelled at me to put it away because they couldn't stop eating it.

Nutella Nut Roll

1 8-oz package cream cheese (softened)
1 cup Nutella
1 cup powdered sugar
1/2 cup crushed hazelnuts
1/2 cup chocolate chips
Apple slices, graham crackers, Ritz crackers, or animal crackers for dipping

Throw the Nutella and cream cheese into a mixing bowl and beat at low speed with a mixer.

Add the powdered sugar and beat some more, being sure to scrape the sides of the bowl occasionally so that the ingredients are well-mixed.

Technically you could stop here. The result at this point is REALLY very good. We won't discuss how I know that. Ahem.

But, if you want to kick things up a notch, place a piece of plastic wrap on your counter. Scoop the Nutella mix onto the center of the plastic wrap and then lift the four corners. Twist them together so that the Nutella glob becomes ball-shaped.

Throw it in the freezer and leave it alone for about an hour. It won't freeze solid, but it will become easier to work with after it has some time to chill out.

While you're waiting for the Nutella ball to solidify a bit, spread the chocolate chips and hazelnuts on a plate.

Once at least an hour has gone by, take the Nutella ball out of the freezer and pull the corners of the plastic wrap down. It's still going to be a little sticky, but don't worry about. Everything will be just fine.

You should be looking at something similar to the photo above. Next, flip it over onto the plate of hazelnuts and chocolate chips. Peel away the rest of the plastic wrap. Roll that Nutella ball around and around and around until it's completely covered. You might have to press a couple of chocolate chips or hazelnuts in if they refuse to stick to the right spot.

Wrap the Nutella Nut Roll in plastic wrap again. Return it to the freezer for at least two more hours. Overnight is even better.

Serve with whatever kind of crackers you would like, or with apple slices. I'm on Team Apple Slices, personally.