Last June we agreed to take Lola as our pet. She was two years old and she came with a wardrobe for all seasons what could possibly be bad about that? My husband was not thrilled but I think because we are still in the newlywed stage of our marriage he let me have my way after only ten minutes of begging.

During the first week of ownership he caught me holding her and whispering what a sweet girl she was and that I just loved her loved her loved her. He was all, you don't even know her?! Incredulous that I could fall in love with something so fast. While holding my little preemie baby close and whispering sweet nothings in her ear I listened to the warnings of not getting too attached, ya da ya da and then he used a big vocabulary word to throw me off, anthropomorphism. Huh? what? Whatever Mr. PhD, I love her.

She needs us, mostly to just stay warm, feed her and dress her. She cuddles and give hugs when you sit down on the couch by putting her head right under your chin and her paws on your shoulders. Who wouldn't love that? She goes to bed on her own. The minute she hears the TV turn off she is booking it to her crate - if only our kids did that.

But she has outlived her welcome. After spending over an hour on my hands and knees Sunday cleaning the game room floor with Clorox and soap I decided no more. We have three doggy doors that she uses every. single. day. and yet she has been using the far corner of the rug as her own personal toilet, unbeknowest to any of us. DONE!

The baby gate is coming down, the kitchen door is going to stay open, I can open the french doors to the living room, our family will be free to roam our own house. Amazing! This little 5 lb 1 oz dog has had us barricaded downstairs in the carpet free zone. She managed to get upstairs a couple of months ago and the first thing she did was pee on the carpet.

We have tried to re-train her to go outside. I have caged her up in a 4x4 area right at the back door with doggy door in her face. We did this for two full weeks and have gone back to this several times when she has been caught. We have given treats when she goes out in the snow and rain. We push her out the opening if we think she hasn't gone in a while. She goes out on her own to bark at our neighbor's dog and to chase our cat. But no more. Her determination has lost her a place in our household.

Poor baby-yea, yea Anthro-shmatho, she is a sweet little girl and I will miss her but I am sure the rescue foundation in our area will find someone perfectly matched for her.

The kids however have already moved on. We told them on Sunday that we were going to have to get rid of her. At first there was shock and then immediately asking for another dog, a real one this time (had TD been coaching them?)

On Monday morning the 4 year old saw Lola and asked his dad "What is she still doing here?" No worries of anthropomorphism there.

Surprise!! My 38th birthday was Saturday and my fabulous husband has been planning a surprise party for me since February. I had absolutely no idea. He got me out of the house to spend the day with my friend Tricia going shopping and having lunch. Tricia is a huge planner so I thought nothing about her asking me what I wanted to do on my birthday, while I was putting away my Christmas ornaments.

She picked me up around noon and we had a great relaxing day. We went to a wine bar and bistro to have lunch and then went shopping at little boutique stores nearby. The markup was killing me. We went into a store where every article of clothing was made out of crushed linen in either cream, dark tan, or navy. I found a baby pink t-shirt for $95. It was so cheap delicate that I could hold it up and Tricia could see the color of my eyeshadow through it. To make this T-shirt even more over-rated spectacular the edges were left unfinished. Oooh! the labor involved.

We ended up at an outdoor mall where I bought white capris. Love them! Want them in red, khaki, and navy too. They were on sale, $10 off, so I got them for $29. And Stella McCartney would be appalled - they had a finished hem. Can you imagine? the audacity!

We ended up at P.F. Changs and sat outside to have a drink. The whole time I kept saying that I needed to get home TD and the kids needed dinner and I was making oven-fried chicken. Tricia never once let on. That's why when we finally made it home at close to six I was shocked and awed. Take a look:


SURPRISE!!! I loved it! All the kids were there, my close friends were there, and my husband had planned it all. My artistic friend Sonja made the birthday crown that on my pin head looked more like an Indian Headress, but I love it! My kids were so excited and were also led astray because they were not informed about the party until that afternoon. TD did fan-tab-u-lous!!

It was great! But it was really such a blur. And no it was not because of the Mai-Tai at P.F. Changs. It was because no one had ever done this for me before. I just kept thinking of all the effort everyone went through. It almost made me cry. I am tearing up now!

What a wonderful weekend, the best! I just love everyone right now. I could even go give a hug to the neighbor lady down the street who tried to refuse to let my friends park in front of her house, on a public street. Yes, I could even hug the crazy right out of her. But I am going to hug my hubby instead, he so deserves it.

When I was younger I always wanted to know just how much my parents loved me. The best re-assurance of my father's love for me was his statement that he would die for me. I would then push him further with different scenarios. Growing up in a Christian home meant denying Christ as your Savior was a straight path to hell. So this was the area I would test my father to find out just how much he actually loved me.

The best time to interrogate ask my father how much he loved me was while we were driving on the Riverside freeway coming from or going to church. Depending on what year it was we were either in a blue Nova or in his pick up truck. If in the pick up truck I would be sitting beside him with the gear shift at my knees or on the floorboard under the glove box if my sister happened to win the 'I sit by Daddy' competition we had every Sunday. Regardless of where I was sitting or which vehicle we were in the quest for knowledge that my dad loved me started the same.

"Daddy how much do you love me?"

"So much."

"But how much?"

"I would give up my life for you just like Christ gave his life for all of us."

"If we were all in a prison in China (the Red Army was terrifying for a little girl in the 70's) and they said I was going to be killed what would you do?"

"I would say kill me instead."

"What if they said we had to say we didn't believe in God what would you do Daddy?"

"I would not be able to say that because I believe in God and His Son Jesus Christ."

(The picture in my mind is still the same as it was when I was younger. All five of us are standing in a cellar type room with wet dripping walls wearing Little House on the Prairie dresses and men in navy blue pajamas are standing around us wearing the hats they use to gather rice in.)

And here came the loaded question:
"What if they said they would kill me if you didn't say you don't believe in God?"

"Then I would pray to God that I never would have to make that choice. Did you know they can’t have Bibles in China? They barely have enough rice to eat. We need to pray for the people of China that they will be able to hear the Gospel."

My mom would join in the conversation telling us stories of missionaries and their hardships. My dad would be off the hook.

Jump ahead thirty years to my life now. I feel the same way about my own daughter. I would take a bullet, a train, a car, a sword, a fire, you name it and I would try and save her from it even if I would lose me life in the process. I would have my head whacked off if it would save her life. (the present day equivalent to the Chinese Red Army)

My daughter does not grill me about how much I love her, not like I did my family. I have told her from day one how much I love her and would protect and care for her forever and ever. In fact, I am the one who quizzes her about how much she loves me. Those times when I want her re-assurance of her love for me she puts her arms out as far as they go and says, "this much Mommy" or blows me off with a 'you are bugging me' look. When we hear this song by Mercy Me she laughs that I tear up listening to the lyrics I Would Die for You.

But she has no idea how much I have struggled with accepting love from my father and from God.

My dad once told me that he could have loved me so much more but I wouldn't let him.

It took me years to understand God's grace over the over preached Wrath of God. I still struggle with the concept of loving the person but hating the crap. It has taken having a child that I would lay down my life for to get it through my head and heart the capacity of love God has for me and my parents had for me.

Last night when I was putting my little girl to bed I remembered the times I questioned my dad about how much he loved me. I finally get it, it only took 38 years.

Every Thursday Sandra at Family Corner has recipes for Slow Cookers from other readers. She calls it Slow Cooking Thursdays and you can find some really good recipes. Check it out.

I love dumplings! That was one of the best things about spending weeks at a time in China. I have absolutely no idea how to make Chinese dumplings but American dumplings? Oh yea, frozen or refrigerated biscuits are the way to go. Add some meat or chicken and we have a semi-homemade meal that everyone loves. This was no exception. It was the first time I made this and it will not be the last. The whole family loved it, kids, parents, the dog was begging, all of us. And the flavors? to die for.

I have inherited my husband's mother's 1960-something Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. I found this yummy sounding recipe and adapted it to make in a Crockpot.

The Ingredients:

• 2-3 lbs. of Pot Roast (I had cut mine up into medallions earlier and had frozen, they worked perfectly and only had to cook 5 hours to be super moist and tender)
• 1 14oz can of Basil, Oregano, Garlic diced tomatoes
• 1/4 cup of Rice Vinegar
• 1/4 cup Cooking Sherry
• 4 cloves of garlic, minced (3 spoonfuls of the already minced in a jar garlic)
• 6 whole cloves
• 1/2 tsp of Accent (the original recipe called for Pickling Spice but I could not find that at my grocery store)
• Salt and Pepper and Garlic Salt
• 6-8 or 10 Frozen or refrigerated biscuits (I thawed my frozen Grands Buttermilk Biscuits ready made biscuits)

Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a pan. Season the meat with garlic salt and pepper and brown in the heated oil.

In the Crockpot add the vinegar, sherry, cloves, and Accent. Stir. Add the browned meat and cover with the can of tomatoes. Spoon garlic on top and season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook for 4-5 hours on high, 8-10 on low.

After cooking place the biscuits on top of the meat and sauce.

Cover and turn on high for half hour to 40 minutes. Serve and enjoy the praise.

Was Secretary's Day this week? Or The Professional Female Appreciation Holiday? I do not keep up with all the Hallmark holidays. But I did get a gift today. An Aromatique Reed Diffuser with the scent Smell of Spring.

Who knew the Smell of Spring would smack of inequality? I sure didn't but do you think my co-worker, the one who does a job equal to mine get a reed diffuser?? No, HE does not. HE got nothing to commemorate "Happy Professionals Day".

All the women in my company managers, supervisors, directors--oh wait! no women directors got a gift-wrapped present today via corporate mail. I really really want to just be grateful and say how sweet but the normally content almost non-existent feminist in me wants to scream!

Instead I am going to say nothing and be grateful. But if HE comes over even once and says that HIS allergies are bothering HIM because of my Smell of Spring reed diffuser I am going to knock HIM out. HE can clean the refrigerator on Friday before Memorial weekend.

I have absolutely no idea what I will do if one of the 175 guys in my building ask me if the diffuser is what I got for Secretary's Day. I think it will probably rhyme with Coastal.

October 4, 2007 or 5,000 miles ago. Either one is when I was suppose to get my oil changed. I even got a phone call to remind me to get the oil changed. In October. Now that it is April I am too embarrassed to take it in and get the oil changed. I don't want to hear the tsk-tsk of the German auto mechanic followed by a lecture on how important it is to change the oil in older vehicles.

I guess the procrastination and excuses became too much for my husband. He went and bought all the supplies he would need to change it himself. He had mentioned this Friday night when we were out with friends, but I thought he was kidding. I was telling our friends about the night I went out to the garage and saw TD changing out my spark plugs. The scene did something for/to me and some sparks definitely flew in our house later that night. Now my husband was looking for another opportunity to work on my car. Changing the oil was going to be his Rico Suave move.

On Sunday he got his supplies ready. He jacked my car up crawled underneath and I sat down in the garage to watch him.


I really am not sure of all the steps that were taken while he was beneath my 13 year old BMW convertible but the next thing I know he is holding up an oily hand and saying this is not the oil pan. What? then what is that stuff on your hand? Oh! transmission fluid, then just plug the hole back up and redo I say while I hold up my wedding ring and admire the way the sun makes it sparkle and pop my gum.

Apparently, it is not that easy and he referenced the manual to figure out why my BMW oil pan and transmission pan look the same and is not in the same place like a Honda and how to fill the transmission back up.

The filler cap, or whatever, on the transmission pan is stuck, completely stuck, wrench, hammer, and swearing stuck. He is going to have to take the pan off and refill it then put it back in place while full of hydraulic fluid. This will require more than two hands.

The pan is fastened to the car by SIXTEEN, bolts/screws whatever. SIXTEEN parts that have to be unscrewed while lying on your back with your face 3 inches from a motor that can fall and squish you, dead.

After cursing the sadistic and masochistic tendencies of the Bavarians my darling wonderful fabulous husband had all SIXTEEN bolts/screws off and the pan free. He filled the pan up to the rim with the transmission fluid while I commented on how gross this was and should we wash the pan while it was out. That would be a negative. We both crawled under the car and reattached this wobbly red oily heavy pan back to the belly of the beast.

TD held it in place while I reattached the bolts/screws thingy's. With a ratchet. A ratchet that was so slippery and held in a hand that was dripping with oily nastiness. If the pan moved just a little transmission fluid would spill out and all over us. But I prevailed against adversity and I fastened that pan back onto my car. I did it!! I actually did manual labor on my back and it didn't involve having a baby.

Now the roles were reversed. Apparently the sight of me underneath a car in a wife beater covered in transmission fluid is equivalent to Pamela Anderson running across the beach carrying a life preserver. Next time I might just change the oil before the suggested mileage is up.

The best thing about jury duty last week was getting home before 4 p.m. and not leaving the house until almost 9 a.m. It was fantastic! Yes, I had to lick my wounds and practice hooey-balooey positive self talk because I was rejected from two jury panels. The self talk was more along the lines of "you are a freak, you are smart enough, pretty enough, and dog-gone-it people like you". So to boost my self esteem that has sunk to a new low of worrying about what convicts and ambulance chasers think of me I did what I love, I made dinner.

Doesn't that look fabulous?! So good, so rich, and so incredibly pretty--Just like me! well minus the rich part and probably not the incredibly part either but who cares anyway, I am smart, funny, and people really like me.

This is not a dish I could just throw together on my lunch hour. I also wouldn't prepare this before going to work unless I happened to be up at the butt crack of dawn.

The ingredients:

• 4 boneless skinless chicken breasts
• 2 Red Peppers, sliced into strips
• 1 large onion, sliced into strips
• 2 tablespoons of butter
• 2 cups chicken broth
• 1/3 cup of whipping cream
• crumbled bacon (about 5 strips)
• Garlic salt and Cracked Pepper
• Minced Garlic (3-4 cloves)
• 5 Tablespoons of tapioca, crushed (you can use 4-5 tbls of cornstarch mixed in water instead)
• Fresh Basil
• Asparagus
• Rice or Mashed Potatoes

In a saucepan melt butter and add the peppers and onion. Saute until slightly wilted but so the crunch is almost gone. Pour into the CrockPot and add the garlic, bacon, and crushed tapioca. Sprinkle with Garlic salt and Cracked Pepper. Pour in the chicken broth and stir. Place the chicken breasts on top and sprinkle with Garlic Salt and Cracked Pepper.

Cook on high 4 hours or low 6 hours. There will be another half hour or 45 minutes after this when the asparagus, basil, and whipping cream is added.

Prepare the asparagus by cutting off the woody part and cutting into 3 pieces. Wash and tear the basil, I used the whole package because we really love basil. Remove the Chicken from the CrockPot and add the whipping cream, basil, and asparagus. Stir until combined (if using cornstarch instead of tapioca I would add it at this time) and place the chicken back in the CrockPot. Turn to high and cook an additional half hour.

Serve with rice or mashed potatoes. We did rice the first night and then I made mashed potatoes for the leftovers. Personally, I liked the mashed potatoes better. Wide noodles would be good too.

And then to celebrate no more jury duty and because I wanted a pick me up since the local ambulance chaser thought I would not make a good juror because I ..........well I don't really know but I am sure it was because I was too fantastic, too logical, too smart, and too many people like me, I made this:

We had these delicious, wonderful, incredibly easy but freaky fattening and gorge inducing Apple Dumplings. TD had seconds! He never has seconds that is how tempting and wrong they are. If I ever just let myself go and know I will be able to live without my pancreas I am having an entire pan of these right after a heaping plate of Chicken Alfredo with a side of Chili Cheese Fries, loaded of course.