Pineapple Stuffing

Need a side dish for your Easter dinner? If you are serving ham, please don't pass this recipe by! It is so easy, a 6 year old could make it! It bakes up like a bread pudding. My sister in-law Nancy gave me this recipe and I have no idea where it originated from. Below is the doubled version of the recipe. If you cut it in half, simply use a 9" baking pan instead of a 13x9. If you are having a crowd, then use the recipe below. You will be happy to have the leftovers!

Simple ingredients, one bowl, one pan and an oven. Now get moving!

Ingredients

8 eggs

2 sticks butter

2 (20 oz each) cans unsweetened crushed pineapple, juice included

12 slices "Country Style" bread

1 cup sugar (or a little less if you prefer, I don't think you need the full cup)

Melt butter. Transfer it to a big bowl.

Add eggs and sugar, then pineapple with the juice. Mix together.

Break up the bread into pieces, no need to be perfect, just break them up randomly into a few inches a piece, crusts included.

Combine all of this together and then transfer to a 13x9 casserole/baking dish.

Bake for 1 hour at 350 degrees, uncovered until topping is lightly golden brown.

I have never deviated from this recipe. If you do, please let me know how you made out and what you experimented with! There are some recipes that should not be messed with and I believe this is one of them. Enjoy and Happy Easter!

On the 3rd Day, God Created Sugar

I'm so sorry you have to read another blog about sugar.

If you have fully invested in this blog (poor you!) then you are aware that I have a full blown addiction to sugar. I give it up on occasion and feel on top of the world and then I taste something sweet and it's all over again. I start feeling lousy and bad about myself. Lucky for me, I have a wonderful friend like Aileen who reminds me that sugar was used in Medieval times to help people take medicine. Its addictive properties were compared to cocaine (I think she said this during our breakfast the other day but I cannot be too sure as I was suffering from the Delirium Tremors. Again.)

Anyway, I decided that after a rough Valentine's week, I would once again take a vacay from the sweets. I also felt like I couldn't eat meat anymore and now I am off food that once had a mother.

I made it through 3 days, and on the 3rd day there was church. Thankfully, my husband forced us all to go because I had a lot of praying to do.

As I knelt down, it went something like this:

"Please God, give me the strength to give up sweets. Please, help me get through this day where I will be preparing a "Tickle Your Funny Bone" chocolate pudding filled cake, loaded with Reeses peanut butter cups and fresh whipped cream for Carissa's 21st bday. Please let me not succumb to licking the bowl, the spatulas, the cut up candy. And if you can God, please help me at the next bday party for Corinna where I know there will be more cake and sugar mocking me next to the bowl of fruit.

Please God. Give. Me. Strength."

And then I thought, God must be so freakin tired of people saying "Give me this, or Give me that". Who wants to win the Powerball, who wants skinnier thighs, who wishes their neighbors would move. God has a LOT on his plate. Does he really need to focus on a Sugar Addict?

So, I changed my prayer to this, "Please God, help me find the strength within to overcome my addiction" so he wouldn't feel so much pressure. (I know you think this is silly, but you know the people in AA pray to God and taking One Day at a Time is really the only thing I have to cling to right now. )

I said my prayer and felt like I was on the right path. I would find my own strength. I would dig deep within and take responsibility. No blaming God for this one.

And then suddenly, I got a whiff of the girl next to me. She smelled like maple syrup and breakfast sausage.

I wanted to lick her jacket.

Dear God, is this some kind of joke?

JC Penney, Ellen, & One Million Real Muthas

Every so often I get so pissed off that I need to write a blog. Today is one of those days. I am actually not feeling very well right now but I cannot rest as my heart is racing too fast. Hopefully, blogging will help!

In case you haven't heard, there is a group called "One Million Moms" who is out there promoting Christian values and trying to keep sex, violence and profanity out of your television. It all sounds OK on the surface but don't be fooled. (I will not provide a link to their site as I am sure you are well-versed in the language of Google!) OMM's recent bandwagon is to force JC Penney to fire the beloved Ellen Degeneres as its new spokesperson and I quote from their poorly written website:

"Funny that JC Penney thinks hiring an open homosexual spokesperson will help their business when most of its customers are traditional families. As consumers, what we find tragic is a corporate office and customer service department that not only transfers customers to voicemail, but even hangs up on them rather than verses hearing their concerns. Degeneres is not a true representation of the type of families who shop at the retailer."

Just when I thought we'd come so far, here comes a group of "Mothers" who, under the guise of protecting their children, are now bullying and promoting intolerance and hate. How ironic! I know the Bible isn't very big on homosexuality and you can interpret it the way you want. I am not here to give anyone a lesson on religion but I know there are a large number of people who believe that being gay is a sin, a defect, and immoral. Many think that gay people are not really born that way and that they "choose to be gay." Seriously? Considering how hard it is to be gay in this country, do you honestly think someone would choose this? What would Jesus think of OMM's behavior towards the entire gay population?

Let's face it OMM...you must know someone who is gay. You probably have a gay sister, brother, mother, father, uncle, aunt, or your BFF is gay. It's OK! We all do (wink wink!).

It's really funny that OMM thinks that mostly "traditional families" shop at JCP. Don't they know that the traditional family is a dying breed? Personally, I'd love to see more people get married (read, be allowed to marry), and have their own families. In a world where we see less people getting married and more people shacking up and having more babies out of wedlock, it would be nice for those who aren't allowed to get married to create their own traditional family, whether it's 2 mommies or 2 daddies. Equality, I think it's called? And the Pursuit of Happiness; we all deserve that.

To say that Ellen Degeneres should be dethroned from her new position is so preposterous and hateful. Go find another cause, like the Febreze ads you protested because they used the words, "Oh My God" (If you don't believe me, check out their website.), or getting 7 Eleven to stop selling Playboy (Really?).

Ellen, you are a class act. You deserve as much happiness as you have brought to millions of people. Click here to see her response to OMM.

And to the One Million Moms, I am going to play with my Barbie Loves Barbie dolls.

I Don't Think You're Ready for this Belly

I'm so sick of hearing about my belly fat.

Everywhere I turn, my spam folder, the TV, my mirror, it's there, nagging at me. My friend Laura affectionately refers to hers as her "What's That?" Michelle calls it her "Ooh Dreep".  And me, well, I never had a name for mine until this week when I started touching it and realized it had a whole new feel to it. I asked the husband to validate my feelings and so he pressed on it like I was the Pillsbury Doughboy and declared, "It feels like a water bed".   So there you have it, I now have a name for mine.

Dr Oz recently did a show on this topic where every woman in the audience wore a spandex bra and bike shorts, exposing their bellies for the world to see.  Some of the women were sobbing, stating they were embarrassed, ashamed, and depressed about their midriffs.  The show was supposed to help us women understand why we have belly fat, what we can eat to reduce our belly fat, and more importantly, it was an opportunity for Dr. Oz to grope and feel up as many grieving women in one fell swoop. It's not that I don't love you, Doc, but clearly, you have some issues in  Doctor/Patient Relations Department. Just sayin'.

It turns out if you want to eliminate your BF you should eat sauerkraut, miso soup and I'm sure there was something else. After 2 weeks on this diet, I don't understand why my waterbed is still afloat. I've been eating the sauerkraut daily on my hot dog but my BF is just growing. WTFBF?

Presents

I have a zillion Christmas blogs in edit mode. I'm hoping this one makes the cut.

I want to write about the excessive commercialism, the lost meaning, the overabundance of food, random acts of kindness, why you shouldn't keep talking to kids about Santa so much since it just sets every parent up for failure, what would Jesus think of it all, why parents put the Elf on the Shelf in pornographic positions, and the year my mother accidentally raised my oven temp to 500 degrees causing a chestnut to explode in my face.

But I won't.

I just want to say that we all work really hard this time of year to make the holiday extra special. We get less sleep, we work extra hours, and we get super stressed; always feeling we're not doing enough, not baking enough, not buying enough.

But, Enough is Enough.

Every so often during this season (when I am ready to have an anxiety attack about it all), I have to center myself and think back to last year. I vaguely remember what we bought the kids. I have no memory of what people gave me and have to think extra hard about what we ate. So, my point is, none of what you are doing and buying matters at all. It seems so "high priority", but in reality, next year, none of it will matter and this Christmas will be another distant memory.

For me, the only thing that really matters from year to year, is who is present and who is not.  And when you experience your first Christmas without that special someone, whether it's your Mom, Dad, Grandparent, Sibling, Spouse or your beloved pets, Christmas Day can be a devastating day. The gifts and the food mean nothing when you're grieving a loss.

The presence of your loved ones are the presents. This year, the big presents for me are that my entire family is together, under one roof.  There will be a LOT of noise, food, mess, laughter, and silliness, thanks to their presence. I can't think of a better gift.

Love and peace to all of you in the New Year,
Becky

TextmasTime is here

My Hurricane Irene blog helped you when the lights went out. Now, here is the Holiday edition to help you communicate with your peeps without overtaxing your fingers.

Whether you are a parent or a bored teen, there is something for everyone here while you Text the Halls. Add the following to your phones for those times when you need to vent to your TextPals.

NML: No More Legos!

DTENCIIDIFB: Does this eggnog count if I drink it for breakfast?

IDCTYFYSIO: I don't care that you finished your shopping in October

EOTSIACP : Elf on the Shelf in another compromising position.

IIBTIWTGAFXMS: Is it bad that I want to go away for xmas?

ACSWARM: At cookie swap with aunt, rescue me!

TKASA: The kids are sick again

DTFCSMMLF?: Does this fugly Christmas sweater make me look fat?

ROOSHDC: Ran out of stamps, hand delivering cards

GSAYSA: Got screwed at Yankee Swap, again.

IMBETCTJ: It might be easier to convert to Judaism

BNIFU: Batteries not included....

WMUI2012: Wake me up in 2012

Jugs R' Us (and why does this lady look so happy?)

It seems lately I cannot post a blog that does not include the words "boob" or "breast". In keeping with this theme....

Today was my yearly Mammogram. If you are under 40 and have never had a lump or worrisome history, then you have not enjoyed the pleasure of having your boobs squeezed into a vice. (This yearly test may save your life so please do not skip it! I am not here to give you medical advice so please do not sue me.)

I am here to tell you that after you have your first mammogram, you will feel the need to have a cigarette and a shot of brandy. You will feel the burning desire to scream, "What is the point of wearing this Johnnie if 99% of my upper torso is already naked while you twist my breast 180 degrees, squeeze it, vice it, and direct me to simultaneously stick out my butt like Mrs. OohWiggins? How exactly does the Johnnie help my dignity?"


After some intense research (Google), I confirmed that a man did, in fact, invent the mammography machine. No gal pal I know would torture another sister in this fashion, unless she was messing with her private stash of chocolate. Then, totally justified.

I know this machine can be a life saver. And I feel sorry for these poor technicians who do such a phenomenal job but have to resort to Cirque De Soleil maneuvers to get the scan just right. And I think about what they see (and touch!) on a daily basis. It runs the gamut from floppy fried eggs to mammoth watermelon jugs. They definitely need an award, or a chest to pin it on, as my mom likes to lovingly point out.

Turns out, I passed this year's exam with flying colors, thank God. And I will go back again, exactly one year from now. What can I say, I am a glutton for punishment.