"Mmmm. Move over, eggs. Bacon just got a new best friend - fudge.” Homer Simpson

Bacon.
And donuts...
Wait. This is about bacon. And chocolate.
Together.  In a cookie.

Some may scoff when they first hear of the combo.   Like caramel and sea salt.   Like Run DMC and Aerosmith back in the day. (Who knew?)   But it works. And it works well.

I heard about Bacon Chocolate Chip Cookies here and gave them a whirl in my own kitchen.  They are soooo good! I needed to change up & omit a few things, for our family's preferences.
Here's what I did:

1 pound of bacon, chopped and fried crisp
2 & 1/4 cup, plus 2 Tbsp flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp sea salt (yes, you can use regular salt)
1 & 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, room temperature
2/3 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsp vanilla
2 12oz bags semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350.
Chop bacon strips into 1/2 inch pieces.  Cook over medium-high heat in a skillet, stirring often.  You don't want the heat too high. It's best to sort of render the fat slowly, that way it crisps up too. (You don't want those little scalloped edges of chewy bacon fat in your cookies.)

Cream butter and sugars together until smooth. Add eggs and vanilla, mix until smooth, but don't over mix.

Add flour, baking soda and salt to the mixture. Most recipes say to put these in a separate bowl and then add to the butter/sugar mixture. This just seems like a good way to dirty an extra bowl. (I add the first cup of flour, then sprinkle the salt and soda over that, then the rest of the flour.) Mix until just combined.

Add the two bags of chocolate chips. Mix well.
Add in the bacon pieces. Mix well.
It will be a real work-out while you mix it up.  It will seem like there are more chocolate chips and bacon pieces than there is dough.  (Nothing wrong with that.)

Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto an ungreased cookie sheet. They should be about 2 to 3 inches apart. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or so, rotating the cookie sheets halfway through the baking.

Cookies should be golden brown on the edges and look soft and slightly lighter in color on the tops. Cool on racks. Then enjoy the salty-sweet-goodness.

Oh. My. Yum.

(The boys each came to me separately and asked that I keep dad from eating all of them.)
Trust me. I wouldn't waste my calories on just any ole' cookie. Enjoy!

I'm being unreasonable or he is lying...

I am not really a barefoot person.
Not sure why.
I actually have quite nice looking feet, so it's not a looks thing.

I get it that the no bare feet thing is my quirk. I am trying hard to not force my preferences and/or quirkiness onto my children. That being said, I am fine if they go barefoot and would actually prefer it to this:

I have repeatedly asked these people to NOT walk around outside in their socks. Put on your shoes or take off your socks. One or the other. Please.

Devin insists that he doesn't go outside in his socks "anymore."

While I may not be a forensic expert on thread disintegration or wear patterns on the bottoms of feet, I am pretty sure he is still walking around outside in his socks.

"Mom? Will you get me some new socks?"

"I dunno. Will you stop wearing them outside and doing the twist on the sidewalk?"

MiMi over at Living in France just reminded me that this is not the first post I've done on holes in socks due to outside activities.

This one is waaaaay worse.

I can't even explain...

There are things that just keep coming up and getting in the way of blogging. (And reading blogs that I like...)

I promise to try to get my s**t together very soon.

oy.

Diet Tip of the Day. (Just one....that's all I've got.)

Do you have that certain time of the day where you must. have. a snack? I do. It's around 3:00 or so. That's the time of day where I am likely to scarf down a stack of Oreos eat a block of cheese make some bad choices.

I don't know what it is about that time of day, but it's a problem.

I've started doing this: When I get the uncontrollable urge to have a little snack (or 6) I put on one of these Crest Whitestrips for half an hour. You can't eat anything during that time (and I want my money's worth, so there's no way I'm taking them off before the half hour is up...) Once you take them off, you need to brush your teeth.

A minty mouth makes eating something seem less appealing. The whole process buys me 45 minutes to an hour, and for some reason I'm not as hungry then.

hmm. Weird.

Oh yeah... and my teeth are whiter.

Linking up at Homebody's Tips & Tricks

Sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly (being that I have a penis and all...)

Gentlemen? A pop quiz:

When your wife begins to tell you that she has lost 3 pounds in the last two weeks, should you interrupt her with...

A) 3 pounds? That could be the difference between pooping and not pooping.

B) Gosh, your shoes probably weigh a pound.

C) That could be the difference between wearing sweats and wearing jeans. Do you have any idea how much a pound is?!

D) Maybe your hair was wet....

E) All of the above. *

F) Really honey? That's great! How do you think you did it?**

The answer, you nitwits, is F.

Gentlemen? When your significant other says anything about her weight, how her hair looks, how big does her butt look in these pants, etc.... Don't get on this slide.
It is the slide to a cold shoulder.
It is the slide to sleeping on the couch.
It is the slide to "not gettin' any".
It is the slide of destruction.
Stay away.

* Handsome Hubby (HH) chose E. He started out with A and then quickly realized he shouldn't have. However, he proceeded to just screw with me... 'cuz that's how we roll.

*For those interested, I switched my bowl of cereal (oh how I love cereal) each morning to 2 eggs, (over-easy, little garlic salt, little pepper, teflon pan) and2 pieces of whole grain bread (lightly toasted, with avocado instead of butter). I am full until lunch time.

I need no introduction....

It's Me... Grant.

Duh.

My husband keeps my feet warm.

I have said before that my marriage is based on love, trust, respect... and the laughter that can come with totally screwing with the other person.

Sometimes it is a big thing. Sometimes it's the little things. Once when Handsome Hubby and I were out to dinner (at a very nice restaurant) we ordered a lovely bottle of wine (Sanford special reserve chardonnay) and were enjoying the wine, great conversation and each other. HH was enjoying the fresh baked, crusty loaf of bread that was on the table. (I prefer to spend my carbs elsewhere, so I didn't have any.)

I left the table to visit the ladies' room. Upon my return, I sat down and realized that my entire side of the table was covered with bread crumbs. It was like the morning after a Hansel & Gretel party. As I stared down at this bread crumb explosion, I tried to understand why they were there.

I only had 5 or 6 seconds to ponder this, before a waiter appeared with one of those little table scrapers. As he scraped the crumbs off of the table, he seemed to roll his eyes at HH and I could see by the look on his face he was deciding whether or not he should put down newspaper and little orange construction cones all around our table.

As he walked away to find the extra napkins he knew I would probably be asking for, I was laughing my ass off. While I was in the restroom, HH pushed all of his bread crumbs over to my side of the table. (It's OK. I evened the score several months later when I knocked over a milkshake at a restaurant and when I "went to get help" I told the staff that HH did it.)

While we happen to think that that kind of thing is hysterical, some of the things that crack me up the most are the little things.

I've had a pair of fuzzy, fleecy socks for several months. They are warm and cushy, albeit bright. I didn't know that HH had ever even noticed them. I only wear them around the house, so I took them off this morning to take Grant to school.

I've been back home about an hour and a half. I just noticed this:
I had a good laugh. Home alone. In the middle of my living room.

Handsome Hubby can entertain me, cheer me up, or even make my whole day... even if he isn't physically present.

God, I love that man.

Spring Break in Snotville

I have been at the mercy of my sinuses since last week. Down and out on the couch since it felt like someone smashed me in the cheekbones with a frying pan and my nose both running non-stop and stuffed up. (How does that happen?)

Now that I'm feeling better, I still can't really go anywhere since look terrible. The edges of my nose and upper lip are now dried and flaking off from constant wiping of my nose. (Puffs Plus, my ass!)
It's so bad that I can see these flakes in my peripheral vision. ew.

As sucky as this was, I realized it provided me with exactly what I needed: a vacation.

A vacation from my to-do list.
A vacation from focusing on everybody but myself.
A vacation from the guilt I heap on myself if I sit down during the day.

I watched a movie or two.
I read books.
I caught up on my Tivo.
I. Slept. In.

Would I have rather had the same guilt-free rest while sitting poolside with the little "Another Drink Please" flag flipped up on my chaise?

Of course.

But I'm learning to take my vacations wherever I can get them.

Happy Easter.

Let's remember the real reason we celebrate, shall we?
Thank you Jesus. Thank you for carrying the cross for all my shame and for your sacrifice that has saved me from eternal separation from God.
Thank you.

A hole in his head. (In a good way.)

Both of Grant's front teeth have been loose for a while.
I mean, we are talking loooooooooooooooooooooooooooose.

We're talking so loose that he could push them out, almost horizontally.

We're talking so loose that those suckers cast a shadow.
We're talking so loose that if he came in for a kiss and a hug, I worried about getting poked in the eye.
We're talking so loose I fretted that he may soon qualify for The Big Book Of British Smiles.

Then he lost one.

Then all of the sudden it seemed like the remaining tooth shifted smack-dab into the middle of his mouth.

And this one hung on for about a week.

For about a week the child looked like some unholy union between Deliverance and the 1-800 DENTIST lady.

For about a week I could hear banjo music every time I looked at his cute Jack-o-lantern little face.

Then! Finally. Mercifully.

Thank goodness!

I'm going to serve spaghetti tonight. Just for the fun of watching him try to eat it.

'Cuz I'm mean like that.