A stuffing recipe that will blow your mind

To the vulgar, lumpy, pear-shaped woman with the offensively bright, electric-blue page-boy haircut and the sourest expression plastered across her dumb face: I want to say, "Brava!"
As you were huffing up and down the aisles at WinCo muttering abusive, dimwitted comments about how "unbelievable and irresponsible" my sister and I were acting by allowing our small children to follow unassumingly behind us, giggling, as we pushed our carts around the store collecting food for our Thanksgiving dinner, you reminded me that no matter how hard my life is, it is better to keep trying and flailing and laughing than to allow myself to become a gross, bitter, impudent woman who, instead of enjoying the blessings she does have (health, food, the complexion to pull off teal strands), chooses instead to be resentful and bellow at two young mothers to "leash" their kids instead of letting them "run reckless around the store, getting in everyone's way."
I say, if you are that indignant about women daring to bring their children in public without being tethered than you must be in worse shape than I.
Please, don't ever reproduce.
Also, your asinine remarks were then promptly rebutted by a very kind, older gentleman who apologized in your behalf for being an obscene, inappropriate ass-face.
He didn't actually say ass-face.
But I am sure he wanted to.
We all thought you were an ass-face.
Speaking of which, I have a holiday recipe for you.
I really love Thanksgiving and all the time I get to spend in the kitchen with my sister creating the most delicious meal.
And one of my favorite sides is homemade stuffing.
This is not to be confused with the spongy, icky stove-top variety (unless you like that kind, than three cheers for you).
It is hearty and savory and will change your life.

Thanksgiving Stuffing

Ingredients:
3/4 cup butter, melted*
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 large celery stalks, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1 lb. spicy pork sausage, crumbled and cooked
1/2 cup dried cranberries
2-3 apples, cored and chopped
9 cups soft bread cubes = 1 loaf of french bread
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme leaves
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon sage
1/4 teaspoon pepper

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees
2. Saute celery and onion in olive oil on medium-high heat for 6 to 8 minutes until tender.
3. Remove veggies and set aside.
4. Break apart and cook sausage until no longer pink.
5. Gently toss celery mixture, butter and remaining ingredients with bread cubes until evenly coated.
6. Grease a 13 x 9 baking dish. Arrange stuffing in dish then cover with aluminum foil. Bake for 30 minutes covered and then remove foil and bake for an additional 15 minutes.
* Instead of using all butter, sometimes I use 1/2 cup chicken stock to moisten the stuffing. Or you can do a combination of the two.

Happy Thanksgibbing Back!
p.s. I will be back with a full recap on Ryan's special baptism day. She looked so beautiful.

Another list of important links

This one is for my butt hole coach who insists we buckle down and get our minds' in the game tonight, which for me, apparently, means writing my feelings.
However the only relevant feelings pertinent to my performance tonight are those of anxiety, some excitement, and a general sense of disorientation.
But we are the champions, my frieeeeeend, and we'll keep on fighting 'til the end.
So I am sure tonight will be just fine.
For the love of all that is holy — it'll be fine, okay?
And maybe if I say it enough times, I will also be less on edge.
Good gawd almighty.
So as a way to channel my nervous energy, I will instead present to you the latest list of essential must-sees.
You know to keep everyone abreast of the most current pop culture phenoms.
Important stuff.
So, first one:

If you haven't seen this one, than you should probably rethink your priorities and stop doing all the things.
Spend more time out from under the rock you are hiding beneath.
I'm a huge jerk.
But seriously, what have you been doing?
Moving on.

Have you seen this tiny, very young girl dance?
She is so good it's stupid.
I am really in a mood tonight.
The next one is just another reminder to the masses of the devotion I feel for Sam Smith.

I could listen to Sam, my Sam, all the days of my life.
And now you can too. Check out this video.
And now to get my monkeys in and out of the bath, teeth brushed, books read, and tucked into bed in the next 20 minutes.
So I can jump in my car, have a quick weep, and then hit some ladies.
Peace out.

The One

I have someone to introduce you to.
My latest thrifty, mid century find topped with a retro-tastic shade (from Target) has found a place in my room and also in my heart.
I love lamp.
In fact, once it is legal for people to marry furniture, we will wed immediately.
As I may have mentioned before (in every post previous to this one) I enjoy furnishing my non-existent home.
Slowly, carefully I am collecting a very well-curated, well-edited assortment of home goods to outfit my future home.
It makes perfect sense to me as to why I would constantly stalk Craigslist, antique stores, big box stores and online boutiques for interesting, relevant pieces even though I currently live in a 9 × 9 room.
I have even collected my house down-payment.
And by collected I mean saved.
So that's neat.

^^ Look at this! It is a poorly-lit, crappy picture of a very lovely lamp. The shade has golden leaves on it. Golden! So therefore, I had no choice but to bring it home.

Oh, and I also got the most incredible kilim rug from a sweet, old lady on a motorized cart I met through Craigslist.
Because what is an imaginary house with no rug?
It is no house I want to live in, even if only in my head.
With each sentence I type, I am sounding more and more pathetic.

^^ This is another bad picture of my rug ... folded in a wad. Nothing but the best quality photographs for my blog! The rug is really quite large (around 8×9).  Big enough to roll myself in like a carpet burrito. ^^

Oh and how much do you like posts that direct you to other interesting sites/videos around the web?
Because I, for one, love them and will be shooting one of those your way so you can fall down the internet rabbit hole and spend more time than is healthy staring at your computer screen.
And p.s. did anyone see that huge a$$ picture of Kim Kardashian's huge a$$?
I am such a titillating conversationalist.
She is an anatomical phenomenon.
Like, how does she not fall over?

^^ One last picture from Ryan's family birthday. We get together with my sister and her family for every event.
The two turkeys (cousins) in the middle are exactly one week apart. ^^

Happy birthday to my Lion

^^ This is a look I receive often. ^^

Ryan likes to hear the story of her birth.
I begin by saying that I was über fat and gained the most weight growing her, which resulted in the biggest chipmunk cheeks this side of a chipmunk.
My contractions started around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, which I remember distinctly because they interrupted my first viewing of Oprah since I had started my maternity leave.
They were slightly uncomfortable at first, building (as they do) throughout the evening until I found myself writhing in pain on the hallway floor around 1 a.m. barking at Scott to "STOP SLEEPING AND BEING GENERALLY  RELAXED!" and gather any last-minute items needed for my hospital stay.
After strongly insisting that my contractions were, in fact, close enough together, Scott and I left for the hospital, swinging by Britney's to pick her up around 2 in the morning.
Upon arriving at the hospital I was so delirious with pain and naivety, that my hubs and sister checked me in and wheeled me to the maternity wing before I could even grasp the enormity of what was happening.
I was going to be a mother! Squeee!
And even more immediately satisfying was the reality that I would no longer be pregnant! Huzzah!
I got situated in my indecent backless gown as I doubled over in gasping spasms while my cramping continued to escalate beyond a threshold I was unaware existed.
It was shocking how painful labor was!
I mean, duh, you are pushing a human out of your body, but still.
I had refused any birthing classes because, knowing my anxious self, I wanted to remain blissfully ignorant about the hurt I was facing for as long as possible.
Well, now that I was in the throes of childbirth I was rethinking my whole tactic.
What the H was going on?
When would this be over?
Where were the drugs?
Why would anyone do this more than once?
And then my Savior appeared. He was wearing scrubs. And came armed with a long needle in his hand.
And he was very handsome.
WHAAA??!?
Not only was my anesthesiologist hot, he was getting a pretty good look at my fleshy, flabby full moon. Gross.
But soon enough, none of that mattered ... in fact nothing mattered anymore because the convulsions stopped and the pain slackened.
I could breathe again, and even sleep.
I dozed on and off for the remainder of the night/morning in a drug-induced haze until around 9 or 10 a.m. when the pressure began to mount.
It was time to get down to business. I needed to push.
I knew it even though I had never done it before.
Isn't that incredible? You just know.
Anyway, my water broke (all over my doctor's face. Barf. Like it actually sprayed into his mouth — you're welcome) and then I pushed twice and out she popped.
Scott was concerned that her head came to a point (which is normal) and her face was pinched like a squishy-faced pug (which is also normal) but all I saw was the prettiest baby.
She was SO perfect.
A tiny nose, big, gray eyes, pouty, full lips, and wavy fuzz for hair.
Scott cried and then ran to the gift shop and promptly appeared with a stuffed kangaroo that he proudly squeezed into her crib.
I felt so relieved and complete and content.
Ryan is the smartest, most helpful, timid, stubborn, sensitive, persistent, unique girl.
I kinda love that she is obsessed with reading and roller skating and playing the recorder.
She is unrelenting and quirky.
She has a loud laugh and a zillion freckles.
She saves everything.
She is a good eater but is also a night owl and never wants to go to sleep.
She savors treats by eating them really slowly, so that they last as long as possible.
I am grateful for our relationship and that we genuinely get along.
I like her and know that we will continue to be the best of friends.
I love her little personality and am so blessed to be her mommy.
Happiest birthday to my Lion!

^^ Eight years old! ^^