I've moved!

I'm blogging again, but I have moved to http://essaywhat.tumblr.com/. Come see me at EssayWhat?

XO,
Aimee

Where am I?

I don't know what I'll do with this blog. Maybe I'll revisit regular blogging, maybe not. I'm taking a sketch writing class and keeping busy with the kids, so I don't have time to devote to this right now.

I'll see you on Facebook.

Cheers!

The Ballad of Pepper Klitch

I was just watching "Weird, True, and Freaky" with Strummer on Animal Planet. We heard the amazing story of Pepper Klitch.

Pepper Klitch took in a stray racoon to keep her pregnant collie company. Then the raccoon started eating all of Pepper Klitch's chocolate wafer bars. The raccoon, tipping the scales at 79 pounds, died not of an enlarged heart, but a broken one, said Pepper Klitch. All this got Pepper Klitch on the TV.

Well played, Pepper Klitch.

Kindergarten: Day One

It's the first day of kindergarten and you know what that means:

PHOTO SHOOT!

Seriously, Mommy?

You can take it, but I'm not lookin'. Me no like-a flashbulb.

Awwww.

We are up really early, friend. Yep.

My new and exciting little world.

The little guy loved it. He raced up to me when I picked him up from aftercare and showed me the family picture he drew. "And Mommy, when we ate lunch and then didn't take a nap, I wasn't even tired, Mommy!"

Good stuff, little buddy. Good stuff.

We're a Family Band

Chris has been out of town. When that happens, I'm the cook. That should never happen, but it does, and for the past four days I and my children have been eating watermelon rinds and cheese crackers. That's not true, but you don't want to know the truth.

Last night while I was cooking "dinner," Strummer and Sweet P formed a band. "We're called 'An Outburst In Many Words,'" Strummer said.

It totally made up for the fact that he refused to eat what I cooked.

Cooking with Fire

This post is supposed to be equipped with hand-drawn visuals, but our scanner is a jerk, so I hope you like words. I'll update this with the drawings as soon as I can get them onto this computer.

I come from a long line of Southern women and Italian men. Normally, this would indicate me as some kind of kitchen wizard. But I am not normal—I am all nonsense and glitter dust—so nothing could be further from the truth. The unabridged list of my gastroffenses is space prohibitive, but here are the more lesson-y ones:

--I improvised a peanut sauce recipe that glued my tongue to my cheek. (Not a joke.) I had to tear my face apart with abrasives to get that crap off. Unless you are Chinese, do not try to pretend that you can fucking wing it. There’s a reason why Chinese restaurants are so popular. Don’t try this at home, white girl.

--I burned boiled eggs. Black. It turns out that if, like me, you live free and easy while your eggs boil, you forget about your eggs and all the water evaporates and the eggs explode, shooting chicken soot all over your kitchen. That’s kind of a major bitch to clean, incase you didn’t know. Watch the pot.

--I made a cake that would not bake. Sha-zam! I am going to have a cake in 30 minutes! No. That cake sat in the oven for two hours and Would. Not. Bake. Devil’s food.

--I savagely burned toast. No excuse.


My point is that I do not cook. But, oh lucky day, I do not have to cook. My husband can cook the socks off of anything with his hands behind his back. If it wasn’t for him, I would be having dinner at Smoothie King every night.

It’s gotten to the point where I’m a bit of a, how you say, princess. I sit around and drink Chardonnay while my food is prepared, sprinkled with parsley, and then served to me, piping hot. And delicious. I do offer to help him, but did you just read my list? My talents are best rendered in other rooms of the house. Other rooms, where there’s wine and Facebook.

Supper’s ready. I’m out.

(Did I mention that I make BANGIN’ biscuits? White Lily flour, ya’ll!

Yeah, but other than biscuits, I can’t make anything people would eat. Or that I would eat.)

Bean Soda

When I was little, I loved to draw. I wasn't great at it, but I spent most of my time doing it. The love for it stuck with me even once I entered college. I spent more time doodling shocked expressions on stick people on my flash cards than I did on the actual lessons the cards were meant to help me comprehend. I used colored pencils to draw bubbly potions spilling off lab tables, the cracked pieces of test tubes clinging to the green and purple goo.

It was more fun than actually learning skills that would land me a real job.


I have decided to harness this repressed anti-talent and channel it into a comic: Bean Soda. That's the name of a zine I used to write. I haven't decided whether I will use this blog to house Bean Soda, or if I'll go with my dormant domain name, www.beansoda.com. Prepare to be underwhelmed as Bean and her family come to life on a computer screen near you.