You Say Lasagna, I Say Gazonya

My favorite food as a child was Lasagna, or as I so adorably put it, Gazonya-- or as Jack very recently put it, Wazonya (he has recently conquered his L sound, however, and now says it the boring, big boy way).

Anyhoo, lasagna was my favorite food for the longest time.  I was proud of my mom for making such delicious lasagna, and told anyone who cared (and many who didn’t) that she had won a blue ribbon in a lasagna making contest.  She hadn’t actually ever entered any such contest, but I felt she should have, and I don’t feel guilty about the lie to this day.  Mostly.

So when I moved out and first attempted to make lasagna on my own for a guy I was dating (pre-Dave), I called mom and asked for the recipe. 

She told me she got it from the back of the San Giorgio Gazonya box.  Hmph.  A little bit of a let-down.

I made the lasagna (using the recipe on the back of the box—which is really no longer my recipe…I’ve made a few changes), and the guy liked it so much, that I sent some leftovers home with him.  And, to make sure that I would hear from him again, I sent it home with him on one of my good plates.   Kind of like dropping my glass slipper and forcing a return visit from the prince.  

However, I never heard from Prince Charming again, and I really don’t care so much except that it bugs me that I never got the plate back.  Darn Plate Stealer.  I wonder if he has a collection of date plates?  [Cut to daydream sequence with Rob, the plate stealer, showing his dating plunder to a friend:  “This one was from Beth, she made me some really awesome lasagna and this one was from Judy, she made lemon chicken, and oh!  This one was from Sherry.  Terrible beef stew.  I almost didn’t take the plate…”]

So the gazonya…

First of all, I use the the San Giorgio Oven Ready Lasagna noodles.  These do not need to be boiled ahead of time, though a good layer of sauce must coat the bottom of the pan and they must be laid across the 13x9 pan the short way instead of the long way. 

For the sauce, I browned about 1.5 lbs of turkey burger, (but you can also use hamburger or sausage) then simmered it with jarred spaghetti sauce (we love Francesco Rinaldi-Sweet & Tasty Tomato).  My mother used cottage cheese as her cheese layer base, and it was gooey and delicious, but Dave prefers ricotta, so I use that for him.  In the bowl below is part-skim ricotta, part-skim mozzarella, and 2 eggs.  Mix the ingredients well.

As you can see below, I’ve got a good layer of sauce, the unboiled noodles, then the  cheese layer (yet unspread),  and finally in the next picture, a layer of meat sauce.

This is repeated  two or three more times.  Your layers should look something like this when you’re all done:

Cover with aluminum foil and bake!

I often make garlic bread to go with the gazonya.  I use leftover rolls or bread (today I’m using hot dog buns), and I mix together a few dashes of Tastefully Simple Garlic-Garlic and a good chunk of butter, then spread this over the hot dog buns. I add shredded cheese to the top, then I broil them for a few minutes.

Delicioso!  Grazie Mama Mia & San Giorgio!

Lasagna

adapted from mom and SanGiorgio

1-2 lbs. browned hamburger, turkey burger, or sausage

2 jars spaghetti sauce, divided

15 oz. container Ricotta Cheese

2 c. shredded mozzarella

2 eggs

San Giorgio Oven Ready Lasagna

Brown hamburger and drain, then add 1 and 3/4 jars of sauce.  Simmer.

In a separate bowl, mix together ricotta, mozzarella, and eggs.

Pour remaining quarter jar of sauce in bottom of 13x9 pan.  Lay 3 noodles across pan.  Spread generous scoop of cheese mixture on noodles, then spread layer of meat sauce onto cheese.  Repeat two or three more times.  Finish with a layer of sauce on top.
 
Bake covered with foil at 375 degrees for 30 minutes.  Remove foil and bake an additional 10-15 minutes.  Remove from oven and allow to sit for 5 minutes (will cut easier). 

Believe it or not, I add no additional seasonings, oregano, etc.  Dave and the kids like it plain (“Ew!   What’s that black stuff!?”), but the San Giorgio box will include some seasoning amounts for you to use, if you prefer.

And by the way, Rob, if you’re reading this, I WANT MY PLATE BACK.

I am linking this post to Foodie Friday at Designs by Gollum.

The Mighty Ben

I wish I had a picture of this story to share with you, but I wasn’t home when it happened.  I heard about it later from Dave, and although I have a pretty darn good picture of it going on in my head, I’m not sure I can do my head picture justice for you.

You know those kids who think they’re Superman and they jump off the roof thinking they can fly?  Well, luckily, that’s not what this story was about, but it is sorta, kinda like that.

I believe I mentioned Ben’s love of all things Super Hero a few years ago.  As a result, he’s got quite an impressive collection of super hero/police/army guys/Star Wars costumes.  He really doesn’t wear them anymore, but he still keeps them in his room, close to his heart.  Awwwww.

So Ben bounds down the stairs wearing his padded Batman costume.  You know, the kind that has molded abs and lots of padding at the arms and shoulders to make the kid look like a buff, tough fighter of crime.  Well, he bounds down, makes a Mr. Universe muscle-flexing pose and tells Jack in his manly-est voice, “Just try to hurt me.”

Jack, who is playing with his matchbox cars, looks up, considers his options, and whips a Pontiac at Ben, hitting him square in his completely unpadded chin.  BatBen beats a hasty, tearful retreat to Daddy, who’s sitting a mere 6 feet away, and tells on Jack.

So much for those invincibility powers he was hoping for. 

Chutes and Ladders

Today Jack and I played Chutes and Ladders. I don't always let him win, but sometimes I do. Today's game was a nailbiter. Jack hit the big chute when he was near the top and almost assured of a win. Then, my guy also hit the big chute!

Jack wipes his brow and says, "Whew!" a lot when he plays this game. He really hates the chutes.

My pictures were all blurry because Jack does not sit still very much, even for a board game.

And in case you were wondering, Jack did win this game, although we played Candyland later, and I totally creamed him, baby!

Mommy Olympics

Of course, the Winter Olympics have been going on since last week, and we’ve been watching a lot!  Well…we’ve been watching a lot in between iCarly, SpongeBob, and (dear God) Caillou episodes, but we have been watching and applauding as Team USA does their stuff.

But to be honest, there’s another Olympics I’d like to see. My post title gives it away, I guess, but if there was a Mommy Olympics, here are some of the possible events:

Marathon Sleep Deprivation:  Competitors are required to go 26 hours with no sleep, followed by 26 months with 3-5 hours of constantly interrupted sleep per night.  Bonus points awarded for driving with car in correct lane, wearing matching shoes at all times, and staying awake for an entire 30 minute episode of Teletubbies.

Slippery Downhill Slope-Event 1-Your Body-Contenders for the gold will be required to show proof of saggy chests, widened backsides, stretchmark-covered bellies, and lots of jiggly bits.  Competitors who have indulged in unfair practices such as liposuction, tummy tucks, lifts for "the girls", and PhenPhen will be disqualified and secretly hated by the entire Mommy Olympics.

Slippery Downhill Slope-Event 2-Your Brain-Competitors must recite their children’s names (matched correctly to faces); identify objects such as that thing you put the bread in to make it brown and dry and then you put the, um, red strawberry stuff on it...you know, for breakfast;  show knowledge of Current Events such as is Tiger Woods a bigger (beep) than John Edwards and are Angelina and Brad really on the brink of divorce;  and put together a 24-piece Elmo puzzle without consulting the box lid. 

Speed Shopping-With a nap-deprived child in the cart seat, competitors must shop for an entire week’s worth of groceries while dodging candy displays and remembering all items on list, then checkout before child throws a tantrum with which the competitor must handle in a sweet, patient, and publicly calm manner.  Bonus points for using coupons and getting home before one’s husband accuses one of using one’s shopping time as a fun excuse to be out of the house while he is stuck babysitting the two remaining children at home.---Related Events-  Speed Showering, Speed Eating, Speed Lovin'

Weightlifting-Competitors must show competence in 3 areas:  Sustained Infant Support All the Time Even When Brushing One’s Teeth, Preparing Dinner, and Getting the Six Week Fun Checkup at the OB-GYN’s (bonus points awarded for breastfeeding during said checkup);  Flailing Toddler Lifting; and Simultaneous Diaper Bag/Grocery Bag/Guinea Pig Kennel/and Giant-Purse-Large-Enough-to-Hold-a-Juice-Cup-and-a-40-Pack-of-Pull-ups Handling.

Aquatics-Challengers must bob up and down in the water.  For hours.  While balancing one child on one hip and clutching the other one who is just about ready to swim but not quite and wants to keep trying until he gets it.  While your friends are chatting way over there by the snack table.

~~~~~

*No medals awarded.
*No monetary reimbursement for efforts.
*No appreciation shown to contestants for their hard work and devotion.
*No lucrative advertising contracts.

~~~~~

Hmmm. On second thought, this all sounds just too hard, just too much.  I really don’t think we’d get any competitors.  I guess we’d be better off just sticking with those standard, sissy Olympic events like the Triathlon and Luge.

Go Team Go!

164 More Days

This:

And this:

Instead of this…

Collecting seashells…

Instead of collecting icicles:

Jumping waves…

Instead of jumping snow drifts:

The calendar tells us that there are really only 30 days until spring officially arrives.  Experience tells us it will still be a good 80 days until spring's fickle whims are just a bad memory and we are wearing our flip-flops for good. 

For now, I am dreaming of the beach.

164 days.  And counting.

DIY DYE

Well, I did it.

The blond streaks were just too much to maintain so I broke down and bought some hair dye.  I actually bought the box about 4 weeks ago, but it took me this long to get up the nerve to do it.  Light Natural Brown is what the box told me.

I was ready to do it in mid-January, but then a friend mentioned that she read that going darker is aging for women, and then she backed up that little snippet of information with actual pictorial proof:  two pictures of Madonna, one blond and one brunette, and darnit if Madonna didn’t look much younger as a blond.
   
These weren’t the pictures she showed me, but you can still see it.

However, this morning, both the gray hairs and my dark brown roots were laughing at me in the mirror, cruelly mocking me.  Hair can be so mean. 

So I did it.

And it’s not too bad.  In fact, I feel a little like Brooke Shields when I walk around the house with my luscious brown locks, swishing my hair around coquettishly, flashing my well paid Colgate smile at Jack.  And then I look in the mirror, and realize I totally don’t look like Brooke, really kind of very, very unlike Brooke, if truth be told.  But when I’m not looking in the mirror, I kind of forget the actual shade and lack of lusciousness and feel like Brooke again.

Brooke and I look okay as brunettes, even if Madonna doesn’t.

Git Along, Little Snowstorm

What a difference 14 years makes. 

The last really big snow we had around here was in 1996.  I was single, owned a town house, worked very happily as a teacher, and had recently broken up with my boyfriend.  A guy named Dave.  I think you might know him.

Actually, (sniff, sniff) he had recently broken up with me.  Over the phone.
 
But that’s another story.

Anyway, I knew the storm was coming (though I didn’t realize at the time quite how huge it would be), so I stocked up on the essentials.  I remember buying dried apricots, a bag of Twizzlers, microwave popcorn, Diet Coke and a few other things.  No bread, no milk.  I ate yogurt for breakfast, salad for lunch, and Lean Cuisines for supper, so those items were probably in my cart too.  I rented Apollo 13 (the Tom Hanks movie).

And then I watched the snow fall.  Oh, did it fall.  It fell, and blew and fell, and fell and blew some more.  School was cancelled for an entire week.  No one was allowed on the roads for days.  And I slowly went crazy.

I watched Apollo 13 many, many times.  I read and read and read.  I did exercise videos (Jane Fonda step aerobics, baby!) 3-4 times each day, mainly because they made time go faster.  One day I couldn’t stand it anymore and I walked a mile and a half to the closest mall.  In 3 feet of snow and slush.  I got there, walked around, had myself a soft pretzel and trudged on home.  That was so worth it.  Killed an entire afternoon.

I shoveled a lot of snow.  All I had was my short, little driveway and a small stretch of sidewalk, but I worked on it for hours.  And the snow on either side of the driveway was piled 6 feet high by the time I was finished.

My friend and fellow teacher, Kim and I, spent hours on the phone with each other.  She had recently gotten engaged, and I had recently, well, not gotten engaged so we had a  lot to discuss.

Kim:  “So I’m thinking the bridesmaids dresses will be periwinkle blue and...”

Me:  “Why?  I just don’t get it!  What is he thinking!?”

Kim:  “He’s a bastard.  And also confused.   And I was thinking the bridesmaids can all carry little nosegays of roses.”

Me:  “I love it.  What about shoes?  Do you want them dyed to match?  Seriously!  We could be having so much fun together this week.  I wonder if he misses me?”

Kim:  “He totally misses you.  I know he does.  He’s going to get back with you, I know it.  Yes, definitely dyed to match, and…”

We spent so many hours on the phone, we ran out of things to say to each other, and, I remember this clearly, began talking to each other in our version of a Cowgirl dialect.
  
Kim:  “I hope the snowplows mosey along here soon.”

Beth:  “Yee-haw!  If they don’t I’m gonna be testier than a rattlesnake in a roller rink!”

Oh, we were bored.

Fast-forward 14 years.  This time, my grocery store stock up included bread, milk, and items for sensible lunches and dinners (though still Diet Coke).  Our Netflix movie Up arrived just in time.  I’ve gotten ample exercise from putting on and removing the children’s snow gear instead of doing those Jane Fonda videos.  We've read lots of picture books (I only got to read my own selections at bedtime, as usual), and played lots of games. 

And I’ve been able to spend plenty of time with my Dave, who was, thankfully, not still broken up with me or even stranded in another city.  And no cowboy dialect this time, although I have talked babytalk to the guinea pig, but that’s totally different, as I do it out of love, not boredom.

I shoveled for about 10 minutes.  Between Dave's strong arms (have you seen his forearms?) and the use of a generous neighbor's snowblower, that's about the total time I put into it.

The kids are starting to bicker and I’m definitely ready for them to go back to school, and a little piece of me really does miss BETH TIME-ALL THE TIME.

But hoooo-whee!  I sure ain’t complainin’, pardners.

Slow Day in Dirty Laundry Land

Grandma gave Maddie and my niece these toys for Christmas:

I don’t know what they’re called.  I googled it and everything.
But we’ve had a lot of fun with them.
The other day I walked in on Jack having fun with it.  I quickly ran and got my camera and got this picture:

Yes.  He is trying to do his butt.  After making a butt impression he would run around to the other side and check it out.  He tried it several times but the result was always unsatisfying.  (Seriously, I’m just glad he didn’t think to take his pants off to do it, or worse, try to make an impression of the front side).
Now that he saw he had an audience, he tried a few more:

“Ouch!  That one hurt!”
I just love little bellies.  I really want to give his a poke right now:

So many body parts, so little time.

The Big Snow

The snow started shortly before the end of school on Friday, then continued all evening, all night long, and all morning, until it finally slowed to a halt around lunchtime on Saturday.

Here was the view at bedtime (that funny orange glow is not the sunset, but the streetlamp behind the house):

And here was the same view the next morning:

We’re thinking it’s a good 18 inches deep, with much more in places that drifted!  Woo hoo!  The kids were chomping at the bit to go outside.

And so, around 9 a.m. , out they went for Round 1:

They trooped back inside (for the first hot chocolate of the day) after about five very cold minutes of trudging around the backyard. 

~

Round 2—The kids head out to climb on the snowpile left in our front yard by our friendly snowplow drivers:

Jack jumps from the top of the pile and lands on his face (he told me later he thought it would be softer):

He then jumps up and runs for the house:

And this is what I found when I caught up:

“Momma, my face is cold!  Please put down the camera and get me undressed!”

Round 2 lasted about 6 minutes for my chilly baby.

~

Round 3-- Dave is finished snowblowing and gets the boys going with a snowball fight:

I stayed on the front porch with my camera, adhering to my personal motto, “When there is snow, Daddy will go; when there is sun, Mom is the one”.  I must tell you that my camera clicking finger got mighty numb while I was taking pictures…it wasn’t a picnic on that porch, people.

Look what my little angel brought up to show me!

Hey!

Traitor!  No dessert for you tonight, mister!

And don’t think I can’t see you laughing at your momma over there, Benjamin!

Maddie and Ben are each now at neighbor’s houses and Jack is bugging me to get him in his snow gear for Round 4.  The sun is shining, and the view from the window is crisp and snowy-clean and way too cold looking for me. 

Out goes Jack by his lonesome.  I’ll have his hot chocolate ready for him when he comes back inside…I’m expecting him in any minute now.

Martha and Angela and Crunchy Farfalle

At a recent neighborhood bunko night, my friend Angela brought along the BEST DARN SNACK I’ve EVER eaten.

EVER!!!!!

Crunchy Farfalle (click here to hear it pronounced in a sexy, Italian voice) is simply little bowtie noodles, boiled for half the normal time, then deep-fried, and sprinkled with a mixture of lemon zest, freshly grated parmesan cheese, pepper, and chives. 

Angela got the recipe from good old Martha Stewart’s wedding website, and as a result, I have almost forgiven Martha for making me feel second-rate and lazy every time I read her food articles in the grocery store check-out line.  The recipe is simple (though Angela says her house smells a tad, ummm….oily after she makes it) and so unique, pretty to serve to guests or to give as a hostess gift.

Backing up to Bunko Night, the night I met my new friend, Farfalle, I parked myself next to the Farfalle bowl the entire evening and gave dirty looks to anyone else who was crazy enough to approach us.  And by us, I mean Farfalle and me.  My friend.  Farfalle.  Mmmm, such a kind, pretty, and delicious friend.

If you’d like to hop over to Martha’s page and see the recipe, click here.

And although I took the pictures of the Farfalle on this post, Angela gets the credit for making it.  She whipped up another batch of the heavenly stuff today and sent some around the block to me with her daughter, absolutely making my day.
 
Farfalle and me.  Together again.

Thanks, Angela!

Stupid Groundhog

Stupid Shadow. 

Another year, another Groundhog’s Day, another wimpy groundhog sees his shadow and flees down his little hole to stay safe, damning us to another six weeks of winter.

We take Groundhog’s Day fairly seriously here in  Pennsylvania.  We’re only a few hours drive from the site of THE groundhog, Punxsutawny Phil, after all.  Most years we wake the kids up to see Phil make his grand entrance on t.v., special crafts are done in schools (see photo of lovely groundhog art Maddie made at preschool several years ago), groundhog stories are read, the movie Groundhog Day is shown in basement theaters everywhere, and everyone officially starts thinking about spring.  No matter what that VERMIN Phil tells us.

Spring.

I am looking forward to gardening again.  Spring planting is one of my favorite times of year.  In late April I’ll begin the process of visiting the three local nurseries I like best and checking out their selection, plant sizes and prices.  In early May, I’ll plant my perennials, then annuals, and finally the vegetable garden.  I really just can’t wait.

Let’s do a little compare and contrast…just to make the waiting all the more painful:

  

                 









Now                                                     Last June
(I don’t know why our firepit and a plastic sheet holding bush branches is on my garden right now.  I think Dave is planning to burn the branches.  Eventually.)

Now:

July 2008:


Now:

Last Memorial Day:


And finally- Now:

And Last June:

So no matter what that stinking prognosticator of a glorified gerbil says,

AS GOD IS MY WITNESS…I WILL WEAR

FLIP-FLOPS AGAIN!