Things I've Learned from my Cat

     My cat has quite the personality.  He's my bratty diva, and he knows it.  I know not everyone is a cat person, but they should be.  After all, there's lots to be learned from cats.  I've compiled of list of life lessons my own little fur ball has taught me.

1.  If someone dangles something in front of your face, walk away.  That's right, you're too good for that "carrot before the horse" mentality.  Walk away with your head up, and once you've put some space between yourself and that arrogant asshole dangling the thing, turn around and attack their hand with all your strength.  That'll teach 'em.


2.  Don't let anything stand in your way. No, really.  If something is standing in your way, maul that sucker until it's an unrecognizable heap of shame…then play with it.


3.  If you want something, go for it.  I suggest by taking a running leap.


4.  If someone has the audacity to try to cage you, put up the world's biggest fight.  You're too full of life and potential to be held back by four walls.


5.  Let your feelings show.  That's right: happy, sad, manic, it's all good.  If you get urge to sing the song of your people at 3 am, go for it, and the neighbors be damned!


6.  You're not fat.  You have extra protection from disembowelment.  (Seriously, it's a thing.)


7.  If you claim something, that makes it yours.  Just make sure you hide it really well to make sure it remains yours.


8.  Take naps.  How else will you be able to party all night long?  Concerned about the neighbors?  See #5.


9.  If someone's not giving you the attention you deserve, demand it!  That's right, go full-diva.  Strut your stuff right in their face, and if that fails, lay down on their laptop.  That'll teach 'em!


10.  It's good to have a dog for a best friend.  Who else would you pin your bad gas on if not for the lovable mutt laying next to you?


     And since you sat through my randomness, regardless of your affiliation with cats, you deserve a banana split.  For breakfast.

Breakfast Banana Split (Greek Yogurt version)

Inspired by Pinterest

1 banana, split lengthwise

1/2 cup Greek yogurt

1 TBS honey, plus extra for drizzling  

Fruit of choice, diced (strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, pineapples, etc)

1/4 cup old-fashioned oats

Mix yogurt and honey together.  In a separate bowl prop up two halves of the banana; dollop the yogurt mixture between them.  Top with fruit and oats.  Drizzle with extra honey as desired.  Enjoy!

Calories: 351
Fat:  1.5 grams
Carbs: 76.1 grams
Protein: 15 grams

Vitamin A: 2%
Vitamin C: 39%
Calcium: 18.9%
Iron: 7%

*These numbers are based off of the types of fruit I used, so if you decide to go with a different combination of toppings, your numbers will be a bit different.

Breakfast Banana Split (Cottage Cheese version)

1 banana, split lengthwise
1/2 cup cottage cheese
Fruit of choice, diced

Prop up two halves of banana in a bowl.  Dollop cottage cheese between the halves, and top with fruit(s) of choice.  Enjoy!

Calories: 229
Fat:  2.6 grams
Carbs: 42.3 grams
Protein: 11.3 grams

Vitamin A: 8.4%
Vitamin C: 44.9%
Calcium: 15.2%
Iron: 2.6%

*Same disclaimer as above.

There's really no point to this post....

     My brain is fried.  I just had a study marathon weekend (minus some much needed girl time yesterday), and I need a break from all this higher level thinking.  Which is why tonight's post will be nothing but fluff brought to you courtesy of my sweet foster babies.  Enjoy!

     Yes, I realize that I just added to the already overcrowded realm of cat memes, but they're so cute.  Seriously though, these sweet babies will be available for adoption through the HSSM in about 4 weeks, and they deserve a good forever home.

Honey-Glazed Chicken Quarters w/ Seared Bok Choy

   The last time I blogged, I was going on and on about how easily I'm freaked out when home alone, and I'm here to announce: It's not getting any better.

   As I've said recently, Monkey sleeps in a big-girl bed now, and I guess it finally dawned on her last night that she can get out of it and come find me.  I figured that was coming soon, but I guess my half-concious brain didn't consider that when a dark little figure came slowly creeping into my room at 3 am.  Thank God that hammer was tucked back in its proper place in the closet. O.o  Perhaps I should consider putting up the baby gate tonight.

   While I'm battling insomnia and insanity on the home front, I'm finding work less and less appealing.  I mean who wants to go into the office after five hours of sleep that were interrupted by the stuff of nightmares?  Not me.  Thankfully my boss gave me a bit of incentive today.  He brought his kitty from home to be our new honorary mice-catcher.

 As I'm sure y'all have guessed from my blogs about VooDoo, I'm a bit of a sucker for anything of the feline persuasion.  So it's no wonder that within five minutes I had the kitty on my lap, purring and rubbing up against me.  I also renamed her Layla (an upgrade from "Sissy", which is what my boss was calling her).  Needless to say, I'm looking forward to work tomorrow.

  And last, but not least, I do have a recipe to share.  This is for Honey-Glazed Chicken Quarters w/ Seared Bok Choy.  This is from the September/October 2010 issue of Paula Deen's magazine.

1 TBS sesame or olive oil
4 chicken quarters
1 cup chicken broth
1/4 cup soy sauce
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 TBS lime juice
1 TBS lemon juice
1 TBS honey
1 tsp Dijon mustard
4 baby bok choy heads, halved
Sesame seeds, optional

In a large Dutch oven, heat oil over medium-high heat.  Add chicken, and cook 6-7 minutes per side or until browned on both sides.  In a medium bowl, combine chicken broth, soy sauce, garlic, lime juice, lemon juice, honey and mustard.  Pour over chicken.  Bring to a boil.  Reduce heat to medium; cover and simmer 20 minutes or until chicken is done.  Remove chicken from pan.  Place bok choy, cut sides down, in pan, and cook 5 minutes or until tender and lightly browned.  Serve chicken with bok choy.  Sprinkle with sesame seeds, if desired.


  For some reason my computer is rebelling and won't let me upload a photo, but trust me, it was yummy.  Well, this is going to be a short blog tonight, because Modern family is coming on in 7 minutes :-)

It's Only Two Weeks

  As most of you already know, J has been gone for a few nights now.  He's training at a base not too far from here, but he's not allowed to come home so that they get the real "feel" of war.  *insert eye roll*  Whatever.  Although I hate any amount of time that he's away, I was looking forward to these next couple of weeks.  I thought, "Yay for me time and one-on-one time with Monkey and a lower grocery bill."  What I didn't realize was how much I'd actually miss him.

   I know that must sound horrible, but as a seasoned Navy Wife, I thought that a couple of weeks would be no problem.  After all, we've been through a nine month separation swiftly followed by one month of home time before he was shipped off on a six month deployment.  Two weeks?  What's that?

   What I didn't take into account was the fact that I've gotten used to having him around.  This is the longest J has been home since Monkey was six months old, and I guess I've gotten spoiled.  So yesterday when I drove home from work you can probably guess how excited I was to see his car parked outside of our house.  I was so happy, giggling at the thought of him trying to surprise us,  that I swung into the driveway without stopping to pick Monkey up from my friend's house first.  As the garage door was going up for me to park, it dawned on me.  J didn't take his car.  I dropped him off, and the buses drove him to the base.  Sad times.

   Tonight I had another realization of what having J around means to me.  With him in the house, I'm not really that worried about crazy things like burglars or ghosts, but when he's gone every creak in the floor is a robber or a demon from Hell.  (And our floors squeak a lot.)  As I was upstairs bathing my Monkey, I heard a loud bang downstairs.  The dog (who is a good warning signal) raced downstairs, barking.  Fearless, as I am when forced into the protective mother-bear role, I ran to the closet, grabbed J's hammer and creeped downstairs, ready to bludgeon some bad guy for entering my home uninvited.  That's when I found out that the cat had knocked the laundry detergent off of the shelf.  No one got bludgeoned, although I seriously considered the cat as a likely target for a moment or two.

   It's not all bad though; Monkey's room and mine are more spotless than ever.  She goes to bed on time, and without being wound up by tickle attacks.  I get the whole bed to myself.  AND, we get to eat all of the food ourselves.

   On that note, I'm going to share two recipes.  The first recipe is for a month's supply of breakfast burritos.  The woman who thought of this was a genius.  J goes through two boxes of cereal a week on his own, so I think having these stock-piled in the freezer will not only fill him up more, but also cost less.

You'll need:
2 lbs bacon, diced
2 lbs sausage (I used Johnsonville, b/c it's good, and I usually have a coupon.)
1 large onion, diced small
1 diced bell pepper
20 eggs
30-35 fajita sized flour tortillas
1 (8 oz bag) shredded cheddar cheese (I just realized that I accidentally used two bags.  Oops.)

In the biggest skillet you own, cook the bacon.  Once brown and crispy, take out and put on a plate lined with paper towels to absorb the excess grease.  Brown sausage in the same skillet.  Remove from skillet.  Place on another plate lined with paper towels.  Cook onion and bell pepper in same skillet until onions are translucent and bell pepper is tender.  Meanwhile scramble your eggs in a blender. Add eggs to skillet, and scramble with onion mixture.  Once cooked add sausage and bacon.  Remove from heat. Add cheese.  Cover pan and allow cheese to melt.  In a frying pan warm your tortillas to make them more pliable before topping with a 1/4 cup of the bacon/egg mixture.  Wrap it all up in plasitc wrap and place them into a plastic freezer bag.  The original poster said she made 36.  I made 30, so I guess it just depends on how generous your 1/4 cup is.

Next up is a house favorite from Paula Deen's Sept/Oct 2010 issue:

Italian-Seasoned Chicken, Pasta and Vegetables

You'll need:

8 oz linguine
1 1/2 TBS red wine vinegar
2 TBS olive oil, divided
1/2 tsp slat, divided
2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into strips
1/4 tsp gr. black pepper
1 cup chopped onion
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 cup of water
2 cups broccoli florets
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 cup pitted kalamata olives, sliced
1 tsp lemon zest
1 1/2 TBS chopped fresh oregano

Cook pasta according to package directions.  Drain.  In a small bowl, combine vinegar, 1 TBS olive oil, and 1/4 tsp salt.  Set aside.  In a large saucepan, heat remaining 1 TBS olive oil over medium-high heat.  Sprinkle chicken with remaining 1/4 tsp. salt and pepper.  Add chicken to pan, and saute 3-4 minutes or until chicken is browned.  Add onion and garlic, and saute 2-3 minutes or until tender.  Stir in water, and bring to a boil.  Add broccoli and tomatoes, and cook 2-3 minutes or until broccoli is crisp-tender.  Remove from heat, and stir in cooked pasta, olives, lemon zest, and oregano.  Drizzle with desired amount of reserved vinegar mixture.

Enjoy.  Now I'm going to finish watching Grey's Anatomy.  :-)

Season of the Witch: Part 2

 

     No; they didn't make a sequel. I'm just going on a hormonal rampage....again.  Or, at least I was before I decided to shut down my computer and come back to this blog when I wasn't so moody.  Now that my husband has come out of hiding I figured I was no longer running the risk of saying anything I'd later regret. ;-)

    Now that the raging sea of hormones has past, I have been blessed with the marvelous gift of hindsight, which as you well know gives past situations a humor that was definitely lacking while you were living through them.  So can I just say that I'm stinkin' hilarious when I'm moody and irrational?

   So last I left off J and I were concerned about the well-being of our dearly beloved kitty, VooDoo.  Tuesday we brought him in to see the vet.  After looking VooDoo over, squeezing his belly, and listening to me describe in exquisite detail the specifics of his malady, the vet finally declared that VooDoo looked "fine" and that what I was describing could be anything.  He said he would need to do a bit of blood work to rule out the main things (Feline Leukemia, Feline AIDS, and heartworms).  We made arrangements for me to have VooDoo back in his office Thursday for a whole day of tests, blood work, and urinalysis.  (My cat's still not speaking to me, but we'll get to that later.)

   After depositing a very unhappy kitty at the vet's office Thursday morning, I went to work and slaved away all day ;-), not worrying too much about ol' VooDoo, until my phone rang about an hour before I was supposed to get off.  It was the vet.  He had called my office phone, not my cell phone.  Thinking he was just calling me to say that VooDoo's results were normal, and it was just stress or depression causing him to act weird, I took the call at my desk even though our number one client was sitting right across from me with his wife and another salesperson.  Big mistake.

   The vet told me that VooDoo's blood work came back a little funny.  He said that he does not have Leukemia, AIDS, or heartworms, but he had an extremely high white blood cell count.  He said that could be one of three things: 1.) VooDoo had a bad infection that he couldn't see. 2.)VooDoo had pancreatitis. or 3.) VooDoo has tumors.   In my head it was like he had whispered those first two and shouted the last option.  "Tumors?  Like cancer?" I asked, suddenly feeling every eye in the room bore into me.  Crap!  Is it too late to run into the other room? I thought.  The vet explained that we could do an x-ray to see if there were any tumors and let me in on how much an x-ray would cost.  I readily agreed just to get him off the phone so that I could scamper into the copy room to cry my eyes out over the now-inevitable death of my poor cancerous kitty.  That's when it hit me that I had just bought enough new clothes to insure that I wouldn't have the money for the x-ray.  Still sobbing and now pitifully embarrassed, I called J to ask him to pay the vet bill.

Me:  *Sniffle, sniffle*  "J, the v-v-vet called."  *Sniffle*
J:  "What did he say?"
Me(trying to be strong): "H-he said V-v-Voodoo, has-s CANCER!" cue sobs!
J: (way too calmly)  "Okay, so are we putting him to sleep?"
Me:  "WHAT?!? NO!!!!  I need $X for the x-ray."
J:  "Wait, if he's going to die, why are we spending $X on an x-ray for him?"
Me:  "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING THAT'S IMPORTANT TO ME!"

    I hung up on him before realizing that I still needed the money.  So I went home angry and worried and embarrassed and fuming and basically a hot mess.  When I got home and caught J sitting on his butt in front of the computer, I lost it.  I went off on him for not being supportive, helpful, loving or caring.  I said that if he didn't give a crap about me or my cat that I'd just as well leave.  That's when I realized he had been looking up information on Pet Insurance.  Well, crap.  It wasn't long before I eventually threw myself in the bathroom, slammed the door, and (channeling my inner teenager) screamed "I hate you" before going into a hysterical melt down on the bathroom floor.  I didn't come out until he calmly told me, "The vet just called.  And I transferred the money to your account."

   As it turns out, the vet couldn't see any tumors on his x-ray (but that doesn't rule them out).  He has VooDoo on an antibiotic regimen that the cat hates.  Twice a day he has to have this thick white goo shot down the back of his throat until he starts spitting and foaming at the mouth.  This has been going on for about a week now, and he's not talking to me.  J on the other hand gave me a PMS pass for that day after I came up to him after the vet visit and shamefacedly apologized for calling him all those horrible things that I'm too embarrassed to type here.  :*- ]

   The other night, perhaps out of a sense of atonement, I made J a fabulous dinner that I found in a Paula Deen magazine (of course).  The recipe for Orange-Tarragon Chicken Linguine is probably one of my top five recipes that I've tried from Paula.  It's not too heavy, which is good because, ya know, butter is bad for you, but it does have enough to fill you up without feeling miserable after you eat.  Oh, and it looks pretty :-)

What you need:

1 3/4 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 3)
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
4 TBS butter, divided
1 shallot, minced
1/2 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup orange juice
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
1 tsp dried tarragon
1 (16 oz) pkg linguine, cooked and kept warm

Cut chicken breasts in half crosswise.  Pound to 1/4" thickness.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper.  In a large skillet, melt 2 TBS butter over medium hear.  Add chicken breasts, in batches if necessary, and cook for 3-4 minutes per side.  Remove from skillet, and keep warm.  Melt remaining 2 TBS butter in skillet.  Add shallot, and cook for 1 minute.  Add wine, and cook for 2 minutes, scraping browned bits from bottom of skillet with a wooden spoon.  Add orange juice, cream, and tarragon.  Return chicken to skillet, and cook for 8-10 minutes or until sauce is slightly thickened.  Slice chicken.  Serve over hot cooked linguine.

Enjoy :-)

Penne with Artichokes, Asparagus au Gratin and Kitty Prozac

    I should be cleaning my room right now, but blogging is so much more fun.  Plus, my husband has watch tonight, so that means he won't be back until midnight, which also means that he's not here to see me sitting on my butt doing nothing when I'm surrounded by a mess.  Not that he'd say anything if he did see me doing that.  But then I'd have guilt. Then he might comment on how I never sit down and enjoy doing nothing, and then the guilt would multiply, and I'd pop off some smart alec comment before jumping up like a scalded cat to go clean something.  Yeah, it's better that he's not here to see me do nothing.

     Yesterday I had a very enjoyable visit with my mom and step-daddy who came to Biloxi for the weekend and decided to drop by.  When we normally see each other, it's at their house, and I'm usually there for some big family get-together, and there's a crowd of people, and everyone's fighting for everyone else's attention.  Needless to say a little one-on-one time was nice.  While my mom got the full effects of having Monkey all to herself, and Monkey reveled in the fact that all of her "Juju's" attention was on herself, I was cooking away :-)  I made Penne with Artichokes and Asparagus au Gratin.  Both were wonderful.  The Penne was simple yet filling, where as the asparagus was....how shall I put this?  Divine!  The creamy, rich "gratin" was amazing over those yummy asparagus spears.  I was extremely pleased with how they turned out, especially considering that I was cooking for my step-daddy.

    My step-daddy was the one who first got me interested in cooking.  He's part Italian, and it shows when he's in the kitchen.  I remember him spouting out phrases like "The Holy Trinity of cooking: bell pepper, onion, and gar-loc" as he'd throw random ingredients into a pan, stir, simmer, and saute until it was perfect, and we'd all rush to the kitchen to eat.  One of my favorite things to do as a kid was watch him work.  He was a master at many things: bbq, jambalya, pastas, steak, pork chops, etc. etc.  I'd watch him do it all, and if I could help, I was right there.  He'd have me chopping onions, peeling garlic, mixing up the ground meat, and I loved it.  To this day when I go home for a visit, I usually ease my way into the kitchen or outside next to the bbq pit to see what he's got up his sleeve.  To cook for him was one of those rare things I'd been looking forward to, so you can imagine my relief when everything came out scrum-didly-umptious.  And of course, I took pictures.
 

 

    And keeping with my theme of laziness, I'm not retyping the recipes, but I did insert link, so if you're interested just click on the name of the recipe listed above.

    I know at least one of you out there is a cat lover, so you may find this slightly entertaining.  My cat, VooDoo has been acting weird lately.  He's not affectionate like normal.  He's stopped grooming himself.   He doesn't want to play or eat or cuddle.  All he wants to do is sleep.  (No this isn't the entertaining part.)  He's been like this for about two weeks now, and I finally pointed it out to my husband who had two very interesting theories on the subject.  The first is that our cat is suffering from withdraws from his new catnip addiction.  For Christmas I bought VooDoo one of those stockings filled with toys, but I didn't notice that they were filled with catnip.  After being berated by my darling J for about half an hour on my bad ethics as a kitty mama, I finally took to the internet to rest my case.  Cats cannot become addicted to catnip as it is non-habit forming.  Scratch that theory, Sherlock.

    J's second theory is that our cat is depressed.  He seems to think that because he's been too busy to play with VooDoo lately, VooDoo suddenly has a case of the blues.  Since Google was already open on my laptop, I was relying on it to squash yet another goofy theory.  The problem was this one was actually true.  Cats can get depressed.  They even have a checklist to see if your cat is.  And according to said checklist our poor kitty needs some happy pills.  J is now convinced that we have a depressed, possibly suicidal cat, and I went ahead and made a vet appointment.  I'm still trying to figure out how I'm writing blogs about throwing myself into a train and basically eating my feelings of boredom, but the cat gets the Prozac.  Do they even make kitty Prozac?  I may have to Google that one.

Are you finding it hard to get out of bed in the morning?  Do you no longer have the desire to lick yourself clean?  Would you rather not chase the infernal light that always disappears right when you pounce?  You may need Kitty Prozac.  Talk to you veterinarian today!  
*Kitty Prozac may be habit-forming.  Do not take Kitty Prozac while operating heavy machinery, hanging out with aggressive dogs, or attempting to jump off of high places.  You should not mix Kitty Prozac with catnip or other drugs.  If you feel dizzy, weak or if your depression worsens seek help immediately.*

Chicken Noodle Soup for The-Worst-Pet-Owner-of-the-Year-Award-Winner's Soul

 Yes, if there was an award for the worst pet owner of the year, I’m fairly certain I would be the winner.  (Or at least the runner up.)  But we’ll get to that in a minute.

    As you are well aware, my darling husband, J, is home.  His birthday was Saturday, and as per his request we made a trip to our hometown so that he could celebrate with his family.  We left Friday evening after dinner, and we got home about an hour or so ago.  It was a very pleasant trip filled with too much food and just enough visiting.  It was fairly uneventful.  I do have to say though, I was surprised at how many jokes I found myself being the butt of due to my newly acquired accent.  Evidently I’ve been living in south Mississippi too long, because it’s starting to show.  I didn’t expect to get so many comments however, especially considering I moved from a town in south Louisiana that only two hours away from my new home.  I also found it funny that the main person making the jokes was my older sister.  She may be an English major, but she is also the one who pronounces ass, as if she can’t get enough of the “a”.  I can just hear her now, “Michael! Get off that four-wheeler!  Well, don’t come cryin’ to me if a snake jumps up and bites you on the aaaass!!!”

   I may be paraphrasing, but I promise it’s only slightly.  It’s all in good fun anyway.

   After a rather fun weekend, we came home today, and as soon as I opened the door I could tell something was off.  We had left our dog, Roux, with a friend, but we left VooDoo, our inside kitty, with enough food, water and litter to be okay on his own for the two days we were gone.  When I walked in, however, I didn’t smell anything from the litter box.  Upon closer inspection, I realized that there was nothing in there.  His food looked untouched as well.  Then I heard him.  His meow was so soft and pathetic I raced upstairs.  It was coming from the guest room, and the door was closed!  I yanked that door open to find my poor baby had been stuck in there ever since at least 3:00 pm on Friday afternoon.  

   I immediately brought him downstairs, and practically shoved him face-first into his food bowl.  After that, I put darling J to work cleaning up any messes.  (My only defense is I hardly ever go into that guest room, so someone else had to have shut him in there by mistake.)  Although VooDoo has not suffered any real damage, he is alternating between walking around the house howling miserably, rubbing up against my hand furiously as if he can’t get enough affection, or just sitting down in front of me, glaring and making a low pathetic meow as if to say, “Nice going, mom!”  Unfortunately he’s not buying the whole “It wasn’t me; it was your daddy” line.  (Even though it’s completely true.)  Here’s hoping he doesn’t decide to retaliate.  I mean, his name is “VooDoo” after all.   O.o

   On that note, I think it’s a comfort food type of night, so I’m going to share a recipe for one of my favorite comfort foods: Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup.  This is a Paula Deen recipe (of course).  Be warned, it makes a bunch of soup, so if J's gone, I usually cut it in half and still have enough to freeze.

Chicken Noodle Soup

3 pounds skinless chicken breasts  (You want the bones for flavor.)

6 quarts chicken broth

4 bay leaves

3 cups diced carrot

3 cups diced celery

2 cups diced onion

1 1/2 tsp garlic powder

1 1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp ground black pepper

8 oz egg noodles

Place chicken in a large stockpot or Dutch oven.  Add chicken broth and bay leaves.  Bring to boil over high heat.  Reduce heat to medium and simmer for 40 minutes.  Add carrot, celery, onion, seasonings, and return to a simmer.  Cook for 20 minutes. Remove chicken from soup.  Remove and discard bones.  Coarsely chop chicken and set aside.  Bring soup to a boil over medium-high heat.  Add noodle.  Cook for 10 minutes or until noodles are tender. Add chopped chicken; cook for 2 minutes or until heated through.  Remove and discard bay leaves before serving.   

The perfect trio: Chicken Noodle Soup, Ritz crackers, and Sweet Tea

Good Morning

    Good morning out there!

    This morning I was awakened to the sound of Monkey calling out "need to go potty".  This is truly a beautiful sound to my ears.  Potty training has been an extremely bumpy road in our house.  She was doing wonderfully with it, until we moved to our new duty station.  Soon after that her Daddy deployed, causing another upheaval in her life, and now we're finally getting back on the right track.

   We came downstairs for breakfast only to find that our cat, VooDoo, had been into the bread again last night.  I say "again" because I've found the bread like this on two other occasions.  Once there was also a half-eaten bag of potato chips laying next to it.  Evidently, VooDoo loves his starch.  I can't get mad at him though, because he's the baby of the family.  Although he's technically older than our mutt, Roux, he's the newest addition.  I had a beautiful calico cat named Gumbo for over a year, but she was an inside and outside cat.  One day she just decided not to come back.  Although I still catch myself looking for her as I drive around base, I'm not too worried about her.  She can handle herself out there, and I'm sure she's happier where my Monkey can't harass her.  A few weeks after she went missing, I was talking to my wonderfully comforting husband, J  (please note the sarcasm), and he told me "just get another cat".  "No,"  I replied.  "I don't want another cat.  I want Gumbo back."  A few days later, my best friend asked me to ride out to PetSmart with her to buy heart worm medicine for her dog, Kratos.  Roux needed some too, so I tagged along.  When we walked in, we saw that they were doing one of those "Pet Adoption Days", so we walked over "just to look".  I even told her jokingly, "Don't let me walk out of here with an animal".   I walked straight to the cat section and started calling them to see who would come to the bars to let me pet them.  Only one responded, a little black cat (horribly) named Nicoli.  He was so sweet and snuggly and clearly deprived of attention that it wasn't long before I had him out of the cage and in my arms.  I turned around to tell my friend that I was in danger of adopting this little kitty, only to find her with her arms wrapped around a very cute and very enthusiastic pup.  We both just looked at each other and laughed.  Well once all the papers were signed, and the new collars bought, we loaded up and headed home with our new babies in tow.  I decided that "Nicoli" was way too creepy, so I named him VooDoo instead.  My friend later pointed out that my logic behind that seemed a little off, but growing up around New Orleans makes the term "voodoo" seem less daunting than "Nicoli", because if you've ever read any of the Left Behind books, you'd know that Nicoli Carpathea is the antichrist.  If nothing else, it sounds like some creepy, stalker guy's name.  VooDoo is way less creeper-ish.

   There is a point to all of this.  When I saw the bread, I decided to use what had gone untouched to make these:

They're Cinnamon Twist Rolls, and they're really good.  I found the recipe while browsing foodgawker.com, and they are one of my favorite go-to items for breakfast.  Here's the recipe:  http://circle-b-kitchen.squarespace.com/food-and-recipes/2011/6/2/cinnamon-toast-rolls.html.  It's extremely easy, and Monkey loves them.   Try a few, they might make your Monday brighter :-D