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Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts

Friday, May 15, 2015

Our Anaphylaxis Story

Just retelling this story brings back all the anxiety of that night in late October of 2014, but this week is Food Allergy Awareness week, and I'm going to share our story.

When my son, O, was 14 months old, he was rushed to the ER by ambulance due to a severe allergic reaction. O was at my parents' house (like he is normally when The Husband and I are at work) and had just woke from his nap a little after 5 pm.  About an hour and a half later, The Husband was getting ready to head back home with O when my mom noticed some hives forming on O's neck. 

They quickly put him in the kitchen sink to rinse off whatever might be causing the flare-up, assuming it was a contact rash since he had not eaten anything since waking up from his nap.  The Husband gave him 2 mL of his Hydroxyzine which was an antihistamine O's dermatologist had prescribed for itching related to his eczema. 

Unfortunately, the hives continued to spread rapidly and The Husband decided to try and get O home as quickly as possible. About five minutes later, they arrived where I was getting dinner ready.  Upon seeing O's bright red, puffy face, we thought we'd try and putting him in a cold bath, suspecting that he must have touched something that was irritating his skin.  I told The Husband to call the pediatrician after-hours line to see what we needed to do.  In the bath, his condition continued to worsen and at this point, his whole body was covered in dark red hives that sort of got bigger and bigger until they globed together into large red blobs. His eyelids were swelling like a boxer who was losing a boxing match, his ears were getting bigger and redder by the second, and his eyes and nose had started to drip like a faucet. 

I remembered reading in one of my baby food cook books or blogs that severe food allergies and anaphylaxis could strike at any time to any food and could become serious for infants.  Suspecting that we may have been headed in that direction, I called 911 while The Husband got O dressed.  

We live next door to the fire department, so thankfully it was only a minute or two before the fire truck, ambulance and police car were at our front door, but in those two minutes, I tried to convince myself that they would show up, look at O and tell us we were overreacting first-time parents, give him a little Benadryl and be on their way. A team of four firefighters/paramedics came to our front door and upon seeing O's condition, decided he needed to get to the ER immediately.  Within a minute of them arriving at our home, we were told to take nothing and hurry down to the ambulance. Luckily my purse was right next to the door, so I was able to grab it and have my phone to get in touch with family for updates.

It was my first (and hopefully last) ride in an ambulance.  Lights flashing and sirens blaring, I was strapped onto the stretcher with O clinging to my chest while The Husband followed in his car (the pediatrician called him back while he was in the car and told him to call 911 - which he basically said, we're already way ahead of you!)  In the ambulance, they monitored his vitals and gave O two injections of antihistamine in his thighs which seemed to start helping immediately. I could hear one of the paramedics on the phone to the hospital requesting dosage or approval for epinephrine dosage for a 20lb one-year-old.  We arrived at the hospital before the hospital was able to relay the dosage info, and it looked to me like O was starting to improve and the paramedics said that his lungs were sounding clear.  

We were rolled into a room at the ER where it seemed like a million nurses came in to poke and prod O, tape things to his body, and take uncomfortable temperatures on a screaming, confused, itchy baby.  They gave him a steroid injection and an oral dose of another antihistamine. 

All the medications they had administered slowed the reaction enough for the ER Doctor to leave us alone for a bit.  We were told we'd be in the room for four hours with O hooked up to blood pressure and heart rate machines, waiting and watching (I later learned this was because allergic reactions can often have a two-fold attack, with the initial attack seeming to subside only to have a second severe attack within a few hours.) 

My mom, brother & sister-in-law came to give us some moral support, and brought us some things from home (phone chargers, socks, a clean shirt, checked our house to make sure I remembered to turn the stove off with all the food still in pots, etc - remember, we were rushed out of the house?  It was 7pm, after work when we were shoved into that ambulance... we were both a mess) and helped to take turns holding O while he was in misery.

After a very stressful hour at the ER, O finally fell asleep on my mom's shoulder.  The ER doctor told us we'd have to see an allergist within the week once we were discharged.  It was really only at this point that I thought to take pictures since I had no idea how I would describe all this to a doctor.  We have no pictures of his pre-treatment condition, but we have photos of him about an hour after all those injections, and while he still looked awful, he looked about 500x better than he did before we called 911. 

I hopped on my phone to research and see if I could figure out what was going on.  The doctors and nurses moved so quickly, and I wasn't sure what was happening to my kid and what I needed to do to keep him safe.  As I began reading about allergies, I realized that while I had heard the term anaphylaxis, I had no idea what it meant.  In my phone reading, I learned that anaphylaxis actually refers to a rapidly developing and serious allergic reaction that affects a number of different body systems at one time. My kid didn't pass out or gag like they do on TV, but his breathing, skin, and circulatory systems had been simultaneously affected by an allergen.  I began to realize how lucky we were that O didn't go into shock from his exposure. I cried.

After those 4 hours, with O's blood pressure and heart rate comfortably normalized, they were ready to send us home. We were told to keep vigilant for a subsequent reaction throughout the night, and that we had to get our prescriptions filled before going home in case we needed to use the epi-pen for any reason. By this time it was a little after midnight, and finding an open Pharmacy was a little bit of a challenge for our exhausted crew. They discharged us with prescriptions for Benadryl (an H1-Blocker antihistamine), a liquid steroid, liquid Pepcid (which, if you didn't know, is an H2-Blocker - an antihistamine that in this case is used to help with the digestive end of an allergic reaction... and which took the pharmacist about 30 minutes to prepare) all of which he had to take for 7 days straight.  We were also sent home with a prescription for multiple epinephrine auto injectors which we had to learn to use that night.  

Back at home, my mom volunteered to stay the night and take turns with me watching O while he slept.  In the morning, his swelling had mostly gone down, but his ears were bruised from how large they had swollen.  

This was when the panic set in.  We still had no idea what had caused this, so in our minds EVERYTHING was a trigger.  EVERYTHING was a potentially fatal substance.  We didn't want to leave the house, we were scared of feeding him foods, we were terrified.

We made an appointment to see an allergist at the earliest appointment available, and were in their office by the end of the week.  In preparation, we retraced every step, took inventory of every possible substance O could have come in contact with, and made a journal of it all.  Nothing stood out.  It was misery.  The steroids made O vomit on occasion - or so the pediatrician told us that was the reasoning.  Later the allergist suggested that perhaps the vomiting was because O had a virus which either exacerbated another allergy to the point of anaphylaxis, or it was also possible that he had an anaphylactic reaction to the virus itself (WTF) even if O wasn't showing any other cold symptoms in the days leading up to this.  It was all a guessing game.

O's allergy results came back severely allergic to wheat and egg (he also tested low-to-medium positive for tree nuts/peanut/coconut/soy, and negative for fish/shellfish/insect stings) which brought one theory to the forefront of the mystery.  

The day of his reaction, my mom had been making empanadas.  Empanadas are stuffed pockets of dough coated with an egg wash and baked or fried - and they are DELICIOUS.  Although O had not been fed any empanada, if he had a virus, the allergist suspected that being touched by my mom, dad, and The Husband who had been handling wheat and egg in making/eating of empanadas may have triggered his immune system to go into overdrive with the trace amounts on their hands or face. 

Or being a nosy toddler, he may have somehow snagged a crumb of empanada on someone's hands, or shirt and decided to eat it without anyone noticing. We'll never really know for sure.

It has been seven months since O's trip to the ER.  As time passes with strict allergen avoidance and no serious reactions, it's sometimes alluring to hope that maybe your precious child isn't as allergic as the allergist and all the tests seem to indicate.  You don't want your kid to grow up with fear of food, or to grow up afraid of dying from a snack, or to die because he, or I didn't read ingredient labels well enough.  You don't want to think about how you'll figure out school for him with multiple food allergies before he's old enough to advocate for himself. You don't want to think about having to take him to the hospital and hoping that you'll administer the epi-pen in time.  You don't want to think about forgetting the epi-pen, or think about the possibility that even the two epi-pens you carry on you at all times might not be enough.

I had a slip-up earlier this year which reminded me how severe O's allergies are.  After a stressful month of complicated health issues, I had spent the weekend in the hospital (story for another time) and since I was feeling like I was ready to get back on the domestic track, I cooked dinner for the first time in weeks (I had been on bed-rest for weeks and hadn't cooked in a very long time.) The last time I went grocery shopping, I bought three boxes of our usual gluten free spaghetti and it seemed like an easy meal to make.  I had previously used up 2/3 of the first box and O had eaten those meals with great enthusiasm.  Seeing that I didn't have enough in the first box for a meal for 3, I opened up a second box and threw it all together and served it for dinner.

O took one bite.  He started fussing at the dinner table and refused to eat.  I remember laughing that this kid was being so fussy - toddlers, amirite?  I tried to put another spoonful in his mouth, and he began to scream-cry.  I said fine, you don't have to eat, wiped him down, finished my meal and went on with the night.

O had been sick the week before and had the remnants of a cold with a chesty wet cough on occasion. We took him upstairs to get ready for bed and noticed how his nose was running like crazy and his eyes were watery.  Great, I thought -  his cold is coming back with a vengeance.  Then he started coughing.  A lot.  And it wasn't his chesty wet cough.  This was sort of a newer dry, hack cough... great, I thought, another long night of coughing.  Stupid cold.  

I took his shirt off to put his jammies on, and then I saw them.  Hives.  On his back.  I told the husband to get the Benadryl and call the allergist's after-hours line to see at what point we needed to use the epi-pens (we hadn't discussed an allergy action plan at this point.)  At that time, we didn't know what had triggered his reaction and while the Benadryl seemed to stop his cough and runny nose, his eye was still swelling. When the allergist called us back he said that since the Benadryl seemed to be working, and since we didn't know the trigger, and since his breathing seemed OK, to just wait and see - but if we hear any wheezing AT ALL, to immediately administer the epi-pen and call 911.  It took about 24 hours for the swelling to go down, and about 2 hours for the hives to go away.  I did not sleep well that night.

I was in a panic.  AGAIN a mystery reaction - not as bad as that first one, but not good either. If I knew then what I know now, I probably wouldn't have waited to use the epi-pen.  It would not be worth the risk to his life.

Weeks later, I was reorganizing the pantry and happened to look at the box of pasta, I was about to put it back in the pantry when something about an artichoke caught my eye and I thought, wait - I didn't know this pasta had artichoke - I wouldn't have bought this with artichoke in it because O has never had artichoke...

And then it hit me.  This box didn't have the Gluten Free triangle that my other box of pasta did.  It was the same size, the same shape, the same color. I grabbed three boxes off the grocery store shelf - and this one - the one I tried to feed to my wheat-allergic child - was not wheat free. 

I think the boxes in stores now are more distinct in color,
but in my dimly lit pantry, I couldn't tell the difference
in color between the gluten free and organic regular pasta.
I had gotten lazy.  I knew I was supposed to check EVERY SINGLE FOOD that comes into my home.  I knew I was supposed to read EVERY SINGLE INGREDIENT EVERY SINGLE TIME I COOK SOMETHING AT HOME.  The boxes looked the same to me, I didn't notice when I was grabbing them off the shelf at the store, and I didn't notice when I loaded them into my pantry at home.  I felt awful. What had I done?  

I cried. Again.  One small bite of a strand of spaghetti caused my son's eyes to swell, hives, coughing and sneezing within 30 minutes of eating.  One small bite he trusted me to feed him.  

I also breathed a sigh of relief because he survived and we now knew without a doubt what caused that second reaction. I'm still working on forgiving myself for that and part of that is making sure I do whatever I can to ensure that he doesn't have to go through a reaction like that again.  It starts with educating myself and others, and raising awareness for life-threatening food allergies.



For more information on food allergies and anaphylaxis visit: foodallergy.org  and kidswithfoodallergies.org



Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Significant Time Capsules

This was an entry I originally wrote in 2008 for a "family update" kind of blog that we were supposed to write in to keep extended family up-to-date with our lives.  Our day to day activities are pretty boring so when there was a lack of entries, I'd blog about something random to fill the space.  Now I do that here and since the husband isn't as fond of blogging as I am, that blog hasn't been updated in over a year.
 
Anyway, this entry makes me laugh every time I look at it so I'm re-posting it here on this blog.  Made a couple edits, but it's pretty much the same: 
 
In November of 1989 my family went to the Kid’s Stuff convention. My brother and I filled out a time capsule which was not to be opened until November of 2000. Well, we forgot about it and in rummaging through old stuff, my mom pulled these two capsules out. 
 
Here is mine. I wrote half of it in pencil making it difficult to read on the pink paper - so I transcribed it below:

Date: ? (no concept of time apparently)
Age: 7
Grade: 3
Hobbies: swim, piano, tv watch
(some things don’t change), birds (really?)
My Best Friend Is: Tina

My Message To Myself For The Year 2000 Is: I shall love everyone (I was a hippie)
My Goal For Myself Is: To be a good student (The perfect child)
My Dream For The World Is: Love and Peace (My dreams actually haven’t changed much, I guess.)
My Plan Of Action To Accomplish My Dreams: is I will study verry hard (Study how to spell very.)

Here is my brother’s capsule. In some ways he's a bit more realistic than I was:
 
Date: 1989 (I bet he cheated and looked at the front of the form)
Age: 6
Grade: 1
Hobbies: piano, play, tv, math

My Best Friend Is: Shelbey

My Message To Myself For The Year 2000 Is: How old I am; what grade; everything (He’s being logical.)
My Goal For Myself Is: Alf (LOL!!!) Green Valley(Swim Team), Bibl Quiz, X
My Dream For The World Is: Money (His dreams actually haven’t changed much either.)
My Plan Of Action To Accomplish My Dreams: XXXXX (Got it...makes total sense.)

It should be a life requirement that kids fill these kinds of things out before they turn 8 years old, because the material is just magical.  I was talking to McPe the other day and she said she also had a time capsule as a kid and recently found it. Among the questions on hers was: "What is your favorite smell?" her response, "The smell of food." She's now a successful food scientist. I guess we don’t change all that much.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Revenge of the Cuppy Cakes

Once upon a time I attempted to make cupcakes for Mike's birthday.

From scratch.

You may remember the annual Halloween parties we'd throw at the Nevada house and later at the Chandler house that would usually end up falling on or right before Mike's birthday.  We'd have a crazy kegger and at midnight, we'd sing Happy Birthday and enjoy a slice (or three) of cake with our fancy red cups filled with Guinness (...and Newcastle...and Great White...and Widers...and Stella)  Tasty.

The year we got married - and at the height of the cupcake craze - I decided that I would make cupcakes rather than buy the standard sheet cake, so as to impress all of our friends with my amazing cupcake making skills...something I somehow believed was instinctual among the female of the species. 

I was to be the prime example of the perfect domestic wife... one who not only had vast prowess in the kitchen, but who could also carry the end of the flip cup chug line (through a straw. It's a skill.)

I had never actually made cupcakes from scratch, but I had a new hand mixer and I had made cakes before, so I figured it was just a difference of containers.  I was going to make a set of chocolate cupcakes and a set of vegan pumpkin cupcakes.  I got to work on the chocolate cupcakes, since they would be the easiest.

I burned half of them. Mistake No. 2. 

Yes.  Number 2.

No biggie, I told myself.  And, no, it didn't matter that the chocolate cupcakes that were not burned resembled the Hunchback of Notre Dame more than an actual cupcake because I'd make up for it in the frosting. 

Which I also had never made before. 
But I'm good at following directions.
Cinchy. 

Mistake No. 3.

I whipped up the batter for the set of pumpkin cupcakes, poured them in their cups and set the time for baking.  Meanwhile, I followed the instructions for the frosting to go on the chocolate cupcakes and poured that goop into my brand new piping bag and began piping away.  

The piping bag exploded.

Everywhere.

Sad face.

Mistake No.4.

By this time, it was late afternoon.  The party was that night and I was sitting in a kitchen covered by exploded frosting. Now I fully understood that Mistake No. 1 was thinking that I could make cupcakes from scratch THE SAME DAY AS THE PARTY.

I wiped the frosting off my sad sweaty face and said, screw it, I'll just spread the frosting onto these cupcakes.  I made a second batch of frosting and got to work.

And then I learned - frosting melts on warm cupcakes.

Mistake No. 5.

I got so frustrated I ate a melty frosted cupcake.  

And then spit it out.

The cake part was fine.  

The frosting tasted like Cap'n Crunch vomited in my mouth. 

Maybe it was the salted margarine I used INSTEAD of butter since I used all my butter up in the cake batter and that first round of frosting that now coated my kitchen walls.  Maybe it was the 1/4 cup of granulated sugar I substituted for confectioner's sugar because I didn't have enough in my pantry.  It really doesn't matter because it was DISGUSTING.

The timer went off and I scrambled to get to the oven to pull out my pumpkin cupcakes in time. - I'd have to deal with the frosting dilemma later.  When I opened the oven I was devastated to see 24 fully baked cratercakes sitting where I had expected to see 24 cupcakes.

Apparently you shouldn't throw in that little extra pumpkin sitting at the bottom of the can into the batter to make the cake more moist.  I became angry at the recipe - WHO USES 4/5ths OF A CAN OF PUMPKIN!? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THE REMAINING 1/5th!?  I MEAN SERIOUSLY. I'm still mad. This may have been Mistake No. 6... but no. I get a bonus point for being LOGICAL. CLEARLY.

I took out those crater cake bastards and tasted.  

Not bad.  

For a muffin.  

Mike had wandered down to check on me. He walked into the kitchen and saw... the danger room.  I looked at him like an inmate in an insane asylum and said "TASTE!" and shoved a pumpkin flavored cake crater his direction.

THIS was Mistake No. 6.

I think he was scared.  I mean, here I am - sweaty faced, covered in frosting and flour, crap all over the kitchen walls and shoving a heavy cratered brown thing towards his face.  I'd be scared too.

He took a bite. And kind of nodded his head very politely without saying anything. "Hmm..."

In a dramatic breakdown inspired by Winona Ryder in Great Balls Of Fire, I tumbled to the floor and started crying and howling:  "I'M A TERRIBLE WIFE", "I CAN'T EVEN MAKE CUPCAKES!" , "I'LL NEVER BAKE AGAIN!" "I'VE RUINED YOUR BIRTHDAY", "NOW  NO ONE WILL HAVE CAKE", "WE NEED TO CANCEL THE PARTY!" so on and so forth. 

Mike hugged me... kind of panicked because he didn't know how to handle his brand new clinically insane wife, but also kind of laughing as he assured me things would be ok and that the cupcakes did not matter.  I'm glad he laughed... because even if it made me want to punch him in the stomach a little, it made me relax.  He really wasn't all that disappointed in my lack of cupcake making skills and he promised I didn't even have to clean the kitchen.

He knows how to solve problems.

I still felt like a total dill though.  Because I had spent the afternoon making a mess and then crying on the kitchen floor, it was almost time for the party and I had to get dressed.  Mike ended up having to go down to the grocery store and pick up his OWN birthday cake and ask them to write his OWN birthday message on it and because I was so traumatized by the sight of the cupcake disaster area I couldn't even go into the kitchen to clean up my own mess so he really did have to clean the kitchen... ON HIS BIRTHDAY!!!  I was useless. What the heck was wrong with me?

I have never baked a cupcake since.

As I'm working on Mike's 30th Birthday party now (he'll finally get his own non-Halloween themed party!) I've been tempted to give it another go since there are some really cute Star Wars themed cupcakes out there that would just be too expensive to have custom ordered and seem simple enough for me to make on my own.

As I begin this process, I reflect on the reason I haven't made cupcakes in the last 3 years and I wonder if I should even go there again. I've been convinced that it can be done. There are some things I've learned:

1. Don't bake the day-of.
2. Ask friends for help.
3. There is no shame in the Betty Crocker box mix and matching frosting.  I'll scarf down a funfetti cupcake any day of the week and naysayers are welcome to make my cakes for me.

Also... and this is the big one... I'll have a back up plan this time.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Inspired By Iceland! (The Photo Recap)


I wrote a number of unpublished blogs and attempted to upload a number of videos whilst we were on our Icelandic excursion... but had issues with internet connectivity after the first few days and ended up not being able to upload more than photos to Facebook... and I uploaded A LOT.  So if you saw those, you pretty much have a good idea of what we did.

Now that we're back (and the internet is no longer working against me) I've been able to upload some of our original update videos which are not really relevant anymore. They cover the basic story.  I stuck them at the bottom of this blog... in case you're REALLY bored.  Yay.  

More importantly, back at my own fancy computer, I was able to go through my photos on a bigger screen and pick out some of my favorite non-people photos and get them into a blog so you can see some of the same incredible stuff we saw.  

Incredible.  

My camera and shoddy camera skills can't really even capture everything I saw.  Plus a good number of these photos were shot from a moving car...but. Still.

Námafjall - It looks like Mars and smells like rotten eggs smothered in moldy athlete's foot.

Námafjall - Bubbling Boiling Mud Pools

Námafjall - A Stinky Stinky Fumarole

Jökulsárlón - Glacial Lakes
 

Jökulsárlón - Blue Iceberg

Driving around Southern Iceland

Driving Around Southern Iceland

Vík í Mýrdal - Black Sand Beach - the Southernmost Tip of Iceland


Þingvellir - Continental Drifting

A touch of Lake Mývatn



Icelandic Moss - Actual Color!

The back side of  Eskifjördur - my dad's hometown.

Eskifjördur's waterfall (where we shot our travel update video #3!)

Some of us go to Húsavík for the whale watching... some of us go to Húsavík for a very unique museum... just sayin'.

Húsavík Church - a two minute walk from that extra special museum... just sayin'.

Icelandic Geese in Reykjavik

Icelandic Horses in Eskifjörður

Icelandic Sheep off to the side of a 4WD only road that we had to take to get to the waterfalls in North East Iceland.

Icelandic Spider... chillin near Skógafoss.

Jökulsárgljúfur National Park

Laki Lava Flow -  1783 the largest historic lava flow.

 Flowers Growing In Mountain Rocks.

Flowers Growing In Mountain Rocks.

Mýrdalsjökull Glacier

Driving around North Iceland to Akureyri. 

Reykjanes Fog

Planes over Reykjavik

Selfoss

Skogafoss

Þingeyrarkirkja - the church my great, great, great, great, great grandfather - Ásgeir Einarsson - built.

The inside of Þingeyrarkirkja

The altar at Þingeyrarkirkja

So, that's it for now.  There were a couple other photos I remember taking that I liked, but I couldn't find them in my late night stupor to get it uploaded here. Maybe I'll find them later.  Maybe I'll keep them just for me.  In any case it was an amazing trip - filled with incredible sights, great family and awesome adventures.  

We'll be back.

And for those of you with time to kill... I present Fast Movin' Fog

Monday, March 22, 2010

Wiggle Jiggle, Yellow Middle

I love eggs.

The thought of someone telling me to "go suck an egg" would not be thought of as an insult but rather some kind of delicious reward.

"Why thank you, I will gladly go suck an egg. I'll take mine poached please. With a crusty baguette.  Thanks."

There are few things in the culinary world that make me happier than a perfectly cooked egg.
 - Discovering a delectable boiled ovoid with a slightly soft core in a steamy salty bowl of ramen? Bliss.
 - Pale, fluffy scrambled eggy goodness tossed with fresh cubes of feta and cool seasonal tomatoes served over freshly baked sourdough?  Drool.
 - Popping the yolk of that delicately fried egg so that it just barely oozes onto freshly steamed rice? Home.

My mom was making these for my birthday dinner.
Eaten with thinly sliced Colombian style beef, rice, avocado and tomato. 
So good.  Add a fried plátano and an arepa and you're golden. Trust.

Hard boiled, fried, scrambled, poached, baked... yum. Chicken, quail, ostrich... yum. I don't even have to dip into the plethora of baked goodies that would not exist without the glory of the egg.

Many nutritionists assert that the egg is nature's perfect food. I found thousands of cookbooks dedicated to the egg on Amazon... including this one, this one and this one.  I'm contemplating getting one of them since it seems I have no problem eating eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I eat eggs practically every day - which isn't as cheap as it used to be.  Ever since I converted to the world of  certified humanely handled, local, free range, organic, and antibiotic free eggs (as well as poultry, beef and bacon) eating animal products has become much more expensive and much more of a treat in the last 4 years or so.  A fair trade off for some of the most incredible tasting eggs I've ever prepared (also some of the hardest eggs to peel.  What is with that?  Peeling a fresh boiled egg is near impossible.)

I had three must-do's in our most recent trip to London.  1) Tower of London  2)Beatles shenanigans and 3) Scotch Eggs.  We found this incredible gastropub that focused on local organic foods and made the most amazing scotch eggs.(A neat thing about London was that free range hens and eggs were pretty much the standard wherever we looked - even McDonald's touted free range eggs and organic milk.) My photo does not even do it justice.

Throw away all your previous notions of  "scotch eggs" because these were fresh, fluffy and so incredible.

Mike isn't as much of an egg addict as I am.  He enjoys the occasional scrambled egg or the omelet stuffed with goodies or even a couple slices of a spinach quiche... but he wouldn't touch a hard boiled egg with a 10 foot pole.  A poached egg or a sunny side up egg would likely make him gag but maybe I need to get more creative. If you have any incredible egg recipes, please do tell!

And now I leave you with this from the Korean website www.iloveegg.com

In English (couldn't embed - but seriously - check it out)
http://www.iloveegg.co.kr/egg-song%28English%292.swf


My favorite part:

"Oodle doodle!
Popular and perfect and so complete in every way!
I love you eggs!
Come into my tummy, oh so very yummy."

Brilliant.

In Korean it's even cuter somehow http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fLoT0rqkMYI

And if you look up "I Love Eggs" on you tube - they have an animated series!  Seriously.  Win.

I love you egg.  Thank you for being eggy.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

The Great Mike Detective

About a week ago, Mike had asked me if I had seen a BevMo gift card he received on his birthday but had since lost.

I hadn't. I didn't even know he received a gift card or I would have told him to put it in his wallet right away. Losing a gift card is particularly frustrating for Mike because back when we bought our condo, the Realtor we used gave us a congratulatory gift basket complete with bathrobes, mugs and a $100 gift card to Zov's in Tustin. Mike misplaced the gift card somewhere and has been kicking himself over it for the last 3 years.

Mike, being a great detective, found the missing BevMo card a few days after asking me about it. Apparently it was sitting peacefully in the bed of our scanner. With the card "safely" in his possession, his mission was now to find the culprit behind the mysterious misplacement. After all, why would a BevMo gift card need to be scanned?

Primary suspect numero uno was me. Of course.

As we lay in bed getting ready for sleep, Mike filled me in on his exciting discovery and followed his story with an open (but obviously accusing) question. "Who would leave the gift card in the scanner?"

I laughed. I told him I definitely didn't do it and reminded him that I had never even seen the card and that I would have no reason to scan it.

He was smiling - but he wasn't laughing. He still suspected me.

He still suspected me!!!

I laughed again, incredulous. "You seriously think I did it!?"

He smiled, "Who else would put it into the scanner? That's too strange."

I laughed as I began my defense...

Mike's got this old scanner that is the most finicky, complicated thing to use. You have to be running some special program and operate everything from the program - it frustrates me to use it so I usually have Mike come and set everything up for me so I can actually scan stuff. I reminded him of this and also of the fact that I would have NO reason to scan his BevMo gift card.

He smiled at me. A smile that was a mix of accusation ("you know you're guilty, right?") and pity ("poor wife, you probably are going senile and forgot you did that! How sad.")

I repeated my arguments. No awareness of gift card + no knowledge of scanner set up + no motive = wife not guilty.

Ok. He sat in silence for a moment as he gave it some thought.

He began to think aloud and told me that I was still suspect number one. He had to figure out another suspect in the lineup. Obviously this would be...

My brother.

My brother?

My brother had come over a couple times in the last few weeks to help me update my computer with new software. He was there for hours at a time installing my new OS and reinstalling my old programs.

Mike had deduced that whoever was scanning probably used the BevMo card to run a test on the scanner.

My brother was working on my computer and the scanner is connected to Mike's computer. Why he would run a color test on the scanner for Mike's computer while working on my computer is unknown - and in the case of the great BevMo Gift Card Heist - is also apparently irrelevant.

As Mike mulls over the two prime suspects, he begins to realize there may be room in his lineup for a third suspect. The least likely candidate of the shady bunch, himself.

Mike has been sitting in silence for a few moments.

Still baffled as to why I have remained suspect number one, I begin to list my alibis over again. I had never seen the card, I can hardly use the scanner, and even if I was using the scanner for some test, I would have probably picked a picture I could use once it was scanned. I then told him he was more likely to be the culprit - thinking that maybe he was making copies of other card-sized documents and absentmindedly threw the BevMo card onto the scanner and forgot it.

The wheels in Mike's head were turning. He spoke as he thought (and I'm paraphrasing here...)

"Ok, you may not be the suspect anymore... you probably would have remembered when I asked you about it last week. So, here's what probably happened. Your brother came over to work on the computers...and we were connecting your computer to our network... and I was trying to link your computer to the printer/scanner so you could print over the network... and..."

...and...

And it turns out Michael had put his own BevMo gift card onto the scanner bed to use as a test for scanning over the network.

Mystery solved!

Mike then proceeded to pat himself on the back for his superior sleuthing skills. He had figured out the great BevMo gift card mystery of 2009. He asked me if I was impressed by his deducing skills.

Seriously, he did.

He cracks me up.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Rub-a-dub-dub, Thanks for the Grub.

Everyone seems to be posting the things they are thankful for. I have a lot of things to be thankful for so, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, here we go.

I have to get the normal stuff out of the way - they'll get weirder because I'm thankful for weird things too.

First, I'm thankful for my family - husband, mom, dad, brother, and all my relatives all over this planet and my fantastic in laws. I wouldn't trade out any of them... even for Johnny Depp.

I'm thankful for my dog and all the dogs I've met or ever lived with. Dogs are awesome.

I'm thankful for ALL my friends and that you all are nice to me. I'm thankful that some of you are smart, some of you are thoughtful and some of you are stupid awesome - you all make me happy.

I'm thankful that I was born a healthy human being with a fully functioning human body. By "I", I mean my consciousness or whatever it is that seems to be linked to my human body but not limited by it. "I" could have been an ant or a termite or a monkey. Sometimes I'm jealous of my dog and the Lochness monster, but in the end I prefer to be human. As a human, I am thankful for all the animals and plants that sustain my omnivorous life. I'm thankful for all the humane farmers and workers who treat those creatures with respect and the people who work to make sure that the Earth and all animals are treated that way no matter where they sit in the food chain.

I'm thankful for all the blessings that came with the fact that I was lucky to be born in a first world country. I didn't do anything to deserve it, but considering that the odds of being born in the USA is about 3.1% and about a 15% chance of being born in a first world country, I pretty much already won the lottery. I'm no more or less special than any other child born on the same date at the same time, but "I" got lucky.

I'm thankful for the guy who designed Mercedes 300E that was built in '87. My old car is the best.

I'm thankful for technology. Facebook. Computers. Internet. Blogging. Google. Nanomachines. Robots. Even if I hate some of it, I'm still thankful for it.

I'm thankful for Battlestar Galactica. And the X-Files. And Arrested Development... And The Office... And Cartoons.... And actually, if I go on it will be too long. I'm thankful for TV... but only the shows I like. I'm not thankful for shows I do not like.

I'm thankful for subtitles.

I'm thankful for Michio Kaku, Ray Bradbury, Dorothy Day, Francis of Assisi, Anthony of Padua and Steven Colbert. Maybe for reasons other than what you might assume.

I'm thankful for Jon Stewart - probably for the same reason you assume.

I'm thankful for time travel (it will happen/has already happened... we can discuss this another time.)

I'm thankful for cheese.

I'm thankful that I haven't been abducted by aliens.

I'm thankful for ghosts. Even though I haven't seen one myself.

I'm thankful for photographs.

I'm thankful for pizza and nachos and frozen yogurt.

I'm thankful for patient polite strangers.

I'm thankful for people who hold open doors for others - male or female.

I'm thankful for holidays.

I'm thankful for the reality that my perception creates. Because of this, I believe the world I see every day is actually very beautiful.

I'm thankful for many more things that would take me years to list. Since I can't list them and because Michael is telling me we have to go, I have to remember to say a thank you in my head for those little things when I come across them - Thanksgiving time or not. I'm Thankful for it year round.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Offspring From The Future

Procreation is pretty trendy lately - everyone seems to be having babies. Mike and I are not planning on jumping on the baby bandwagon for a couple more years, but our friend Jessica (Swaaaaaan) recently posted an awesome link on my brother's Facebook page called 1,001 Rules for My Unborn Son which, over the course of the last few days has had me thinking of all the "rules" I've got in my head for my still unconceived children.

Many of my ideas actually don't really involve actual parenting - which should give you some insight into where I am mentally as far as the mothering-spectrum is concerned. For example, the one I decided today is this: When I eventually do have an infant, I think I would like to strap it to my body in some way while I go about my business. I'm talking full on papoose-field-worker-baby-attached-to-your-back-like action. It makes sense to me. You know where the baby is. It's not eating anything it's not supposed to be eating. It's got tons of crap to look at while you're doing your own thing. It's floating around like it did in your belly. I have no problem falling asleep in a hammock - and it's pretty much the same thing, so baby nap time seems like a no brainer. Plus, it seemed to work for the hardest working women all over the world. They've got their hands free to do all the stuff they needed to do and freedom to bend over to pick stuff up and junk. Brilliant.

Of course, I'm sure I'll read something as I get closer to having children that might change my opinion, but for now all I need is to look at awesome pictures and stay pretty convinced that this is totally what I will do.
Most people that have had the "will-you-have-kids" conversation with me already know that Mike and I are dead set in rearing some awesome nerd-children. If you review this venn-diagram that Marci shared the other day, I'd say we're aiming for the bluish-purple hemisphere with some yellow overlap for fun. Obviously the "Genius" is our kid, but I'm sure we'd be happy anywhere in the realm of "Brain", "Geek" or the classic "Nerd." We don't want to venture too far into the "Dweeb" category or the emotional dysfunction and social ineptitude hemispheres, but let's be honest, your stereotypical "cool" kid is nowhere on our radar.

Until our children can beat me away from their closets with their tiny fists, they will be dressed primarily in clothing of awesome. This includes daily animal costumes (they aren't just for Halloween friends) hats, sunglasses, and crazy shoes. There's also a good probability that on any given day my kids could walk out of the house looking like they stepped out of a vintage photograph. Why? Because I can. And because kids look cuter in knickers and bloomers. And because you don't remember much of what you wear before you're 4 anyway - you just remember what it looked like in pictures. I promise to be kind and avoid itchy fabrics... but yah. Get ready to be jealous of how awesome our future children will be. Someday.

I'm glad I'm writing this down so that in 7 or so years when I'm actually trying to get a 4 year old to wear a pea coat, knickers and a cap and he is screaming bloody murder and I'm crying because his 2 year old sister prefers to run around naked after ripping off her hippo costume that I tried to make her wear for the family trip to the zoo in February (because seriously, most appropriate time for animal costumes) you can all print this out to remind me how sure I was about how easily this would all work out.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Remembering Grandpa Russ

Back in June I blogged about the passing of a man who I had thought of as a grandfather-figure since my childhood. This week another person that I had come to view in the same light walked through those pearly gates.

We got a call from Mike's sister late Tuesday night letting us know that Grandpa Russ had fallen earlier in the morning, was in the hospital and that things were not expected to get better. We wrapped up things at home and got to the hospital pretty quickly. When we got to his room, we were met by Mike's parents (who had been at the hospital all day) and Mike's aunt and her husband.

Grandpa Russ was not conscious, but he was breathing on his own and the medical team was doing everything they could to make sure he was comfortable as he slept. Occasionally he'd move his legs or clench his fists, but he wouldn't open his eyes. He couldn't say anything, but I think he knew we were there.

Mike and I spoke to him and reminded him that we loved him and that he just needed to relax and get good rest because everyone was taking care of him. His breathing seemed calmer when someone was holding his hand or talking to him. He knew he was loved.

I walked into that hospital room telling myself that I had to be the strong one. I had to be the one Michael could lean on when we faced reality. After all, Grandpa Russ had lived in the same house as Michael the entire time he was growing up. He was a fixture in Michael's childhood memories and a fixture in their household even after he was grown and out of college - this would no doubt affect Michael in a way I had probably not seen him affected before.

I suppose I just wasn't prepared for how much Grandpa Russ had affected me. Within minutes of walking into that hospital room, reality hit and I lost it. I was being hugged by Mike's mom and Mike was stroking my back. In a way, I failed. In a sense, Mike and I have been able to lean on one another to stop us from toppling over. It has been difficult and although Mike has been doing well, his grief is unfamiliar and sad and I never know quite what to tell him, or how often I should hug him. When he's vulnerable, I have complete control of my emotions, I can talk to him and listen and when he's strong, I become a big blubbering mess. So. Balance.

Mike and I started dating in 2004 and while I had always had a rough idea of what the "Layton Legacy" was, I was not prepared for what it meant to walk into the Layton home on Christmas day. I swear, there were probably 45 men, women and children there and I was introduced to everyone by name within the first 20 minutes. I am 95% sure I met Mike's secret sister, Kim, who everyone tells me does not exist. In any case, coming from a family where our warm Christmases were always just between our happy family of 4 (with occasional guests) this was nerve wracking. God forbid person A would ask me to get person B a drink, because I couldn't remember who person B was and would have no idea who to move towards.

As always, their house was vibrant with kids running around all over the place, siblings laughing, reminiscing and helping out in the kitchen. It had been a while since Mike had seen some of his nieces and nephews and was eager to catch up with all of them. I was the brand new girlfriend and I didn't want to get in anyone's way . I didn't want to be a burden on Mike as he enjoyed this time with his family.

And there he was.

Grandpa Russ sitting in his chair at the kitchen table smiling as he watched the hustle and bustle of your standard Christmas dinner at the house on Pinto. I had met him before, I think, maybe when I was in high school - but I didn't remember adults very well back then. He said he remembered me from when Mike was in high school, so I sat. We talked about things for a long while - probably food, and Christmas and family. Dinner was served and I went to sit with Mike at another table.

Every holiday or family dinner at the Layton house would go much the same way for a while. I couldn't remember who Mike's siblings were or how many he had and who was married to whom and what children went home with what parent, and which one had 4 kids and which one had 3, and who lived in California and who didn't and where the heck did Kim go!?

Grandpa Russ was constant.

We'd come over and he'd be in his chair and I knew that I could grab a coke and sit in the chair next to him and we could talk until dinner was ready and I could be comfortable and I could ask him over and over again which sister that was and who that child belonged to without getting embarrassed for still not being able to keep this big family straight. He was happy to tell me all about it.

Even after I finally learned everyone's name and forgot about imaginary sister Kim, the most comfortable place for me to be was still sitting in the chair next to Grandpa Russ.

When Mike's parents would go out of town, we'd go to their house so that Grandpa wouldn't have to be alone and Mike could make sure that he ate dinner and was ok. We'd bring Apple over and she'd go crazy in his room acting like she owned the place. Grandpa loved it. The last time we did this was a little over a month ago and he was having a harder time getting down the stairs so we sat in his room with him eating In-N-Out. He insisted that he didn't want to be a burden and that we should go eat downstairs at the table. We insisted that we wanted to eat upstairs with him and set up a dining room for the three of us. He ended up showing us all the treasures and family heirlooms that he had kept with him and the stories that he could remember going with them.

He was born in 1913 - what a century to live in. In 1913 the 16th and 17th Amendments to the United States Constitution are ratified, the Mexican Revolution is being fought, Woodrow Wilson succeeds William Howard Taft as the 28th President of the United States, the zipper and stainless steel are invented, and the first automobile road across the United States is dedicated. Most people ride around in horse and carriage and the trolley is a fancy new transportation device. He lived through tuberculosis, cancer and heart attacks (with unbelievable stories to go along with them) as well as the Great Depression, the invention of the telephone, x-ray, sonar, radio, television, antibiotics, Velcro, the microwave and sliced bread (literally.) He talked about how wonderful his wife, Mike's grandmother was, and how good his daughter and her family were to him (Mike's parents.) He lived an amazing life.

He was loved and respected and I don't think he ever knew how much of a crutch he was for me. He always worried about being a burden as he got older but he was the person who unknowingly gave me solid footing when I was so nervous about being liked. He took away any pressure I had put on myself to make the right impression in front of Mike's family. I didn't have to say much or be funny or smart - he'd let me sit there and just listen which is all I wanted to do.

I'm a little nervous about going back to the Layton house now that the chair at the kitchen table isn't claimed. I feel as though I should be stronger and less affected, but I can't help it. By now I know and love Mike's family as if they were my own and I don't need Grandpa to be my safe zone, but I really enjoyed just sitting with him during our visits, and I'll miss that. It will be hard to not notice how empty that chair is now but I'm glad I spent time sitting next to it when it was filled. I have boat loads of stories to tell our children about their awesome great grandfather and his adventures in the days before TV.

Much love Grandpa Russ. Say hi to Grandma Millie for me - we never met, but I know you missed her the most. You'll always be in our hearts.