Did you try the Sag Aloo? It's to die for and then be reincarnated and die for again.

Today I went to visit my old office, at their new office. Jim and Tom are still renovating the building, but the majority of the structural work is finished and it looks amazing. Almost made me want to go back to work. Almost. On the way home, I stopped for some fast food. Normally I make lunch, be it sandwiches or some other simple yet nutritional dish, but today I was feeling particularly lazy and McDonald's was sounding pretty darn good. It'd been a while since I'd had McNuggets so I ordered a six pack meal. Normally I don't rave about my fast food experience, but everything about today's Mickey D's was oh so right. Words like "hot" and "salty" and "crispy" spring to mind. It was too good... I even raided the Happy Meal leftovers.

I would trade fast food for some Minar Palace or Dmitri's any day of the week. In a pinch, though, the perfect guilty pleasure is just around the corner.

*Title by Doug

Thank you for your time, Mr. Mayor.

I'm tapped out. I just did the longest ever bedtime feeding with Olivia. We started at 9:34 pm and it's now 11:18.

I keep threatening to keep track of how much time I spend nursing the baby every day, just so I can see it on paper. At least with Nico I can pile some peas and mini bowtie pasta on his plate and he'll pretty much take over. Feeding Olivia is a job unto itself. It offers very little opportunity for multi-tasking. The best I can do is try to read a book while nursing, but even that's asking too much most of the time. It's like she senses I'm not devoting my full attention to her, and responds with frustrated kicks to my midsection. "Hey. Stop that reading, you. This is MY time, get it?"

It's hitting me that it's almost 11:30 at night and I still haven't eaten dinner. The pork chops are still marinating in the fridge, and the spinach is still just spinach in a bag instead of the salad it was supposed to magically turn itself into. I suppose cereal and a banana will do. Dinner of champions.

*Title spoken by Nancy, to Esteban, as she's leaving his limo.

And they all look just the same

There's a happy trend among the women I know. Lately it seems everyone is looking the same around the midsection. From bumps to chub, we ladies are sporting baby tummies aplenty.

I currently have four pregnant friends, and six who have babies less than a year old. I also know two people besides myself with the infamous 'two under two' thing happening. So what's with the baby boom? Does this happen to everyone when they reach their early thirties, this whole 'everyone I know is prego' thing? I wonder.

One thing I like about all this is that I don't feel like the only person struggling with a baby weight issue. This is the first time I've ever even thought about my weight, let alone about losing chub and purposely getting in shape. Before, exercise was fun. Now, it's work. I'd go to the gym and run for an hour just because I liked to crank up the music on my iPod and get sweaty. I did it to challenge myself. These days, the real challenge is finding the time. I work it in somehow, usually by getting up early for walks, then by using the kids' nap time for an ab routine or to lift some weights. Some days it's fun, but lately it mostly feels like a chore. And who wants another f*ckin' chore?

*Title is from the theme song "Little Boxes".

Welcome back, Swisscake Mama!

This week I'm having a five day blogathon with Jen. Our inspiration will be quotes taken from the Showtime series Weeds.

Now, you all know how this works. The titles will all be quotes from Weeds. Any of the songs used in the show are also fair game, and each of us has to write once a day for the next five days. At the end of each entry, we'll remind you of where the quote comes from.

Jen's page is swisscakemama.blogspot.com. Hang onto your Botwins, here comes another blog challenge...

Not too hot! Serious yowza.

When I had that cute little apartment in Collingswood, there was one thing I purposely did not have -- a microwave oven. I hate them. Loathe, actually. Anything that comes out of the microwave, even popcorn, might just as well have come out of the garbage disposal. That's about how appealing I find microwaved food.

I don't know when or how it started. It wasn't always such a big deal. Probably going vegan for a while changed my mind. Reading all the literature that goes along with such a finnicky type of diet can put your mind in a different place, and your mind takes your food along for the ride. I quit the microwave cold turkey and never looked back. When we bought our condo, the previous owner left hers behind for us. It sat unused for a good year or so. Then Frank started using it, then I did too, but only once in a while. To melt butter, heat up leftovers when I was feeling too lazy to dirty a pot, or zap a cup of coffee.

Now this little microwave of ours sits on a shelf right above the stove. Every time we boil water, the front of it gets all steamed up and evidently it's starting to effect the nuts and bolts because when you put something in, you never know how hot it's going to come out. 30 seconds for your coffee will yield one of two things, either 30 more seconds or something so hot it blisters the skin inside your mouth. So I'm once again completely off nuking. I'll deal with the lukewarm coffee in the morning, or I'll heat it up on the stove. Water goes in the tea kettle, pizza goes into the toaster oven. And popcorn goes where it should, in a pot on the front burner.

*Title spoken by Andy, while teaching Shane about the finer points of using a banana peel for... uh... recreational purposes.

When life hands you bananas...

Banana-ade? No, that sounds gross. Banana bread!

Tonight I made two loaves of banana bread. Doing that requires me to double all the measures in the recipe, so I stand in the kitchen adding, re-adding, and re-re-adding to make sure 3/4 cup plus 3/4 cup equals a cup and a half. Here's how that looks inside my head: 3, 3, 6, and 6/4, 1 and 1/2. 3/2? 3/4? What is that? 1 1/2. Yes. 1 1/2. That's the 1/2 cup measuring cup, three times. 1/2, 1/2, 1/2, 1 and 1/2. Really? Okay. Let's go with that. Okay. One 1/2 scoop... two 1/2 scoop... wait, is this going to be scoop two or scoop three... that looks like two already in there... make this one number three... okay. Looks fine. Now the eggs.

It's my own private mathematical hell, but it's worth it.