An Ode to Mayonnaise

It seems that this world is divided into two types of people: Those that eschew mayonnaise and those that can consume mass quantities of it single meals. There is no in-between. Either mayonnaise totally creeps you out, or it is one of your dearest, time-tested culinary companions. I find myself in the latter group. I love mayonnaise. So...there. It's out. I've said it.

I feel so much better now.

I have always been somewhat embarrassed by my passion for the stuff. It's definitely not the most glamorous, or um, health-conscious thing to eat. And it's impossible to look sophisticated whilst eating something gobbed with the white, greasy goo. When fellow mayonnaise junkies discover one another, there's an instant bond. An unspoken camaraderie. Together, we share in the fellowship of our mayonnaise-y sufferings. We've heard the comments. The jeers. Seen the peculiar looks as we smother our various food items with the thick, white, gooey condiment. I believe that mayonnaise lovers are really rebels at heart. We go on and eat our mayonnaise-laden victuals, raising our greasy fists in the air shouting, "To heck with my arteries!" And we stick together.

I remember one such instantaneous bond occurring a few years ago, when the mom's group I was a member of ventured out for a play date and lunch at the mall. We sat down to eat our Chick-Fil-A, and I found myself sitting across from a young mother and relatively new member of our church. As we pulled out our respective value meals and readied them for consumption, our eyes fell on each others' piles of mayonnaise adjacent to our waffle fries. We looked at our food. We looked at each other. And a profound mutual respect was earned that day.

If you've never tried mayo on your waffle fries, before you scoff, I double dog dare you to give it a try. No, I triple dog dare you. I don't find the obsessive compulsion to do this to any other pile of fries EXCEPT waffle fries. There's just something about the way the pockets (or holes) trap the extra mayo, making it extra mayo-licious. I've been ridiculed mercilessly for my waffle fry habit, even by so-called "friends" and family. People that simply do not understand the finer things in life. People with, I'm just going to go ahead and say it, underdeveloped and immature pallets.

I guess I feel this strongly about all condiments. My philosophy is, Why bother eating something if you can't smother it with something, rendering it completely unrecognizable??? To me, the food is just a medium for the sauce. I've been known to pour copious amounts of mayonnaise and other various sauces on my food at what some would deem "inconvenient" or "inappropriate" times. Whilst traveling at high velocities. Whilst wearing evening wear, etc.

I've been a mayonnaise fan ever since I was a kid. I used to eat mayonnaise sandwiches. It's not rocket science. There's no guess work. It's two pieces of bread with, you guessed it, nothing but mayonnaise. Oh sure, you can throw on a tomato or two if you want to get all gourmet-like. But for me, there was nothing finer, or simpler than a mayonnaise sandwich. Go ahead and make one. You know you want to. Any brand of mayo will do in pinch. And believe me, I've tried them all. But Hellmann's is the best, by far. There really is no substitute.

Not only am I a fan of mayonnaise itself, but I love all mayonnaise-based things. Potato salad. Chicken salad. Egg salad. Tuna salad. Dips made with mayonnaise. And a sandwich just isn't complete without a dollop (or two...or three...or four) of mayonnaise. And I recently stumbled across this ingenious invention. Are you even kidding me??? That's like combining Heaven with even more Heaven. Double Heaven. In a jar, no less. I might never leave the house.

So, tell me. Are you a mayo slut or a mayo prude? Go on. Hit me with it.

Move Over, Jon & Kate

The world welcomed it's second set of longest living octuplets on Monday. Jon and Kate Plus 8 just got a whole lot less impressive and/or interesting with that little piece of news. I wonder how long TLC will give this poor woman before they're knocking on her door. Please pray her, especially as she's planning on breastfeeding all 8 of them!!! She's either extremely talented and dedicated, a glutton for punishment, or utterly delusional. And that, in a nutshell, is motherhood, my friends. Huzzah!

A Little Something For the Guys

I saw this on a friend's Facebook page today. It was completely brilliant, hilarious, and worthy of stealing.

To The Waffle King, Master of All Things Electric, & Mouse Catcher Extraordinaire

It's a long title. It could be longer if I included everything else that Ren Buckland was good at. How else can you describe him? He's a man of many talents. I've been married to him for almost ten years now, and I am still finding out things about him that I never knew before. I am constantly learning of his many hidden talents that I didn't even know existed. I swear he's lived about 1000 lives. Just being around him makes me feel like a wiser person.

He is the self-proclaimed "Waffle King," and he does make some mean waffles. My once broken oven, that got me out of doing any cooking during the holidays, is now fixed--because of Ren. And just the other night, a furry woodland creature decided to come into our home, uninvited, and give us all good scare. Ren, our hero, captured it and returned it back into the Winder wilderness, albeit much to the kids' chagrin.

I don't write about Ren enough. But that doesn't mean I'm not thankful for him. If I listed all the things I was thankful for about him, this would make for quite a long post, and you'd probably walk away feeling really bad about yourself for not being him.

He's one of the hardest working people I know. He never gives up. His patience is endless. He is generous. He's a wonderful father. A terrific husband. And I am so thankful that he was born 41 years ago today.

Happy Birthday, Sweetie. I love you!!!

Tired Mom of 4 Needs Good Laugh

So here's what I'm proposing. If any one out there actually owns one of these crazy things, I insist that you show up on my doorstep wearing one. So that I may then proceed to fall on the floor and laugh uncontrollably for several hours.

Seriously, who owns one of these??? Come on and fess up.

I Will Begin, Again

Well all I can say is, thank God that 2008 is over. Can I get a witness??? Whoo-whoo! So far, 2009 hasn't been so bad. We arrived here all in one piece. No one is deathly ill at the moment. Our checking account currently has more than $5 in it. And last night we brought in the new year with our dear friends, the McCollums. All the kids even made it to midnight. Well, Abigail was asleep in a pack-n-play. We celebrated with a little bit of the bubbly (bubbly cider, that is), of which Oliver was obviously a huge fan. Hopefully, the rest of 2009 will follow suit. All I know is, right now, I'm tired. And I really just wanted a reason to post this awesome picture of my son, courtesy of Tony.

Happy New Year to all. And to all, a good night.

Now, I just gotta get that darn tree down...

It's Official

I hereby declare that I 100% unequivocally, passionately, and resolutely hate Christmas. Go ahead. Excommunicate me. Tell me what a horrible person I am. Tell me how angry the baby Jesus would be at me for feeling this way, much less admitting it in print. However, I'd be willing to bet that YOU did not spend your Christmas in the ER. Oh, yeah. Because I did.

Abigail woke up this morning with a 103 degree fever. She's been sick off and on for a few weeks now, and we thought she was coming out of the woods. Well, last night she just got really fussy after we got home from the Christmas eve service at our church. Very unlike herself. We had a hard time getting her to settle down to sleep, and she woke up quite a few times throughout the night. When we awoke this morning, she was on fire. Suspecting it might be an ear infection, we called the pediatrician and she told us to go on to the ER. Apparently it's very dangerous for young babies to have fevers that high. So, off we went to spend $900 and 3 hours of our blessed holiday at the hospital, all for some not-so-very-nice doctor to tell us she was fine and to go home. 'Tis the freakin' season.

So, I've never believed in curses before, but after today I am starting to think that we are under some sort of a Christmas Curse. I keep telling myself that next year things will be better. However, I've been saying that for 3 years now. And each year I tell myself that, and each year I have this sinking suspicion that things are getting worse!

So, as I've decided to not participate in flu shots next year, I am also deciding not to participate in Christmas next year. Can I do that? Is that even legal for Christians? Can I opt out? How 'bout a nice cruise instead? We can just tell the kids that's what the Good Lord and Santa would want us to do.

December 26th, you can NOT come fast enough.