So for dinner last night I made this recipe. I collect recipes from all over the place, so I have no idea where or who I got this from, but I sure wish I knew. I’d send them a thank you card. It doesn’t have a recipe name, so let’s just call it "Heaven on a plate," shall we?

"In a ziplock bag, put 1/2 to 1 cup flour, mixed with garlic salt and Johnny’s Dock seasoning salt. Dip each chop in beaten egg and then put in ziplock bag and shake until evenly coated. Put in frying pan with some oil.

When chops are done, take out of pan and cover with tinfoil, to keep warm. In pan, add 1/3 cup chicken broth and 1 cup fresh mushrooms (if you have some) and bring to a boil (leave meat drippings in pan–so don’t wash it!). When it gets boiling, reduce to medium high. In a little bowl, combine 2 tsp cornstarch and 2/3 cups heavy whipping cream. Pour into pan and whisk until thickened. Pour over chops and enjoy!!!"

I made some mashed potatoes and covered them with the sauce, too. Served it all up with some homemade applesauce (no, I didn’t put the cream sauce on that) and there you go - heaven on a plate. My arteries might not have agreed with the designation… but my taste buds got the overriding vote.

Earlier I was running around with too many things to do and not paying enough attention to what I was doing. After rotating the laundry, I was headed to the kitchen to work on more stuff for our Halloween party tonight. The laundry room is off the living room, which is a step down from the kitchen. As I went zooming through, I neglected to pick my foot up high enough and my slipper caught the edge of the step, and down I went! I tried to catch myself by holding on to the rocking chair, but I just managed to pull it over on its back. As I lay on the floor alternately rubbing my knee, my shin, and my wrists, Little Man came running up. "You otay, Mom?" he asked. "Yes, Little Man, I just tripped. I’m ok," I replied. He nodded, then turned and looked at the rocking chair. He put his hands on his hips and said, "Well, what da fweakin heck happened to da chai-uh?"

Um. Wonder where he heard an expression like that?

No, not me. (I’m just disturbing.) These little guys.

Today I made some prototypes of desserts for our Halloween party. Don’t they look yummy?

Warning: rant ahead.

So I think I’ve mentioned that Sweet Girl was bored in kindergarten. Really, really bored. Her teacher (Mrs B) tried, bless her heart, but Sweet Girl didn’t like working on different things by herself at a different table. After a month or so, Sweet Girl started shutting down and Mrs B called in the school counselor and psychologist for a consult. They had Sweet Girl do some tests, then another. Then they called us in and we discussed things, did an assessment. We all decided that moving Sweet Girl to first grade would be a good thing - there would be no harm in trying it, at least. Sweet Girl is still a little bored, but enjoys school much more - there are things she’s actually learning and she’s soaking it up like a sponge.

I don’t really talk about this in real life, actually. I don’t want people to think I’m bragging - there is a weird stigma to having a bright kid, so unless people ask, I don’t say much. Even then, I’ve had people sit me down and ask how many hours a day we do reading drills, what reading program I’m using, how I taught her to do "X". When I tell them I don’t do any of it, she simply is who she is, they don’t quite believe me…. so I keep my mouth shut. I don’t know that my best friend in Washington knows she moved up to first grade (and the move happened at the end of September… so, hey, K - guess what? we moved Sweet Girl) and neither did the ladies I serve with in Primary. Well, most of the ladies, anyway. Last month when DH was headed in to the school for our meeting, he passed one of the ladies who smiled and said something like, "hi! whatcha doin’ here today?" and he said something like, "Oh, I have a meeting this morning." She replied, "oh, about your genius daughter?" DH was a little nonplussed and stammered, "uh, I guess…" He had just come from helping a couple other guys at church set up some tables and chairs for a funeral luncheon, and he told them he had to hurry, since he had to get to school for a meeting. One of them said something very similar - "oh, about your brainiac kid?"

Today the lady who referred to Sweet Girl as my "genius daughter" dropped off an invitation for Sweet Girl and Little Man to attend her kids’ Halloween party next week. She mentioned that at first she was concerned that since it was in the early afternoon, Sweet Girl might not be able to go, since she’d still be in school. Then she remembered there’s no school on Monday, so hopefully we can make it. "She’s quite the talk of the ward," she said with a weird little smile. I faked a smile and said, "We’ll be glad to go to the party, thanks for inviting us."

A week and a half ago, I had the privilege of hearing people talk about my daughter and me, literally behind my back. They didn’t know I was sitting just around the corner while they discussed the placement of my daughter at school, and how "Taffi sure is right on top of it" in a not-so-approving tone. After a few minutes, they caught sight of me and, red-faced, laughingly said, "Oh, we’re talking about you!" I smiled and said, "I know, I’ve been listening."

People - strangers, even* - ask me, "are you sure you’re ok with moving her up a grade?" "Do you realize she’ll go to college at 17?" "Do you think she’ll resent you when all the other kids in her grade are taking driver’s ed/able to go on dates/going to girl’s camp and she can’t?" It makes me want to gasp in mock horror and say something like, "OhmyGAWSH I hadn’t considered that. Thanks so much for enlightening me!" (It reminds me of the comments I heard when she was tiny and her hair was coming in so curly - people would actually ask me if it was natural or if I permed it. Like I would actually try to perm an 18-month-old baby’s hair?)

(* Strangers get the chance to ask these questions because, in the midst of making small talk, they invariably ask Sweet Girl if she’s in school - "Aren’t you a cutie? Are you big enough to be in kindergarten?" - and Sweet Girl invariably answers, "Well, I was in kindergarten, but I was too bored and so they moved me up to first grade. It’s a lot more fun, even though I’m the smallest kid in class." I don’t really like opening this particular can of worms, but I’m also not about to teach my child she should be ashamed of being smart by telling her not to talk about it.)

So, to anyone I might have offended when, in mixing my decent genes with my husband’s good genes, I got lucky in the form of my beautiful, intelligent daughter, and/or who thinks DH and I are some sort of psycho nutjobs because we are concerned about her experience at school, let me just offer this: I’m sorry. It’s not my fault that she’s smart - nay, it’s almost in spite of being in my care for 5 years that she’s doing so well - and I guess I am just being a lazy parent by sending her to full-day first grade instead of listening to her complain about being bored at half-day kindergarten.

Lighten up, people. It’s just first grade. It’s not like we sent her to junior high.

That’s on the schedule for next year.

Contrary to popular belief, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. (Sorry.) For a while I was so busy, I didn’t have the time or energy to blog. Now that I have a little more of both, I have blogger’s block. What’s a girl to do? Ignoring my blog for 3 weeks (more or less) didn’t make it go away (thankfully) but I still have trouble coming up with something to say. *insert heavy sigh*

So until I can come up with something remotely interesting, let alone witty, here are a couple pictures from our weekend. This is what happens when your husband and children are obsessed with going to Lagoon… even when it’s predicted to have 60% chance of rain and highs in the low 40s….

Little Man will insist on carrying a "blue barella" while in his stroller:

And I will wish this were real. Hey, at that point, hanging in a dungeon would have been more comfortable and dry than Lagoon. Besides, I wouldn’t mind being this skinny.