My Nemesis

Doing laundry must be about the worst chore there is to be done. Some days I hate it so much I have to hold a pep rally before I'm scheduled to do it, just so I can do the bare minimum of putting the clothes in the washing machine and transferring them to the dryer. If the boys are home when I do laundry, they take the wet clothes out of the washer and place them ever-so-gently in the dryer. These steps are the easiest for me. What seems as impossible as pigs flying is me putting the blessed clothes away.

Today though, today was different. My husband had asked one too many times, "Where is a clean white shirt?" Charlie has said his last, "Mooooommmmm, I don't have any socks!" And, Ryan had said his last, "Where's my crock?" (OK, that really doesn't fit in to what I'm talking about, but still, he always does say that.) Today is the day that I will put an end to these aggravating morning utterings!

I'm going to confess some pretty low-down dirty secrets. I'm going to air my dirty laundry for all six of you to hear. Ready for it? I had four laundry baskets full of miscellaneous laundry in my room sitting around haunting me like the ghost of my great aunt Linda. That is where all of the white shirts and random socks are hiding out; I just know it! So I dumped all four baskets on the bed and began the humbling task of sorting through my clean "dirty laundry".

I wish I could tell you I found some lost treasure or really great pair of slacks that I had been missing (but y'all know that I don't even hardly know what "slacks" mean), but there were no treasures except missing socks and a darn good many missing socks. I was plugging away and making some good progress, and wouldn't you know it, a friend called to ask if I wanted to go for a walk.

What a dilemma I was in! Finish the laundry project that has been put off for at least a month, or go get some fresh air with a friend? I went with the walk.

The laundry is sorted on the bed. The socks are matched up. The clothes that need to be, are hung up. But, darn it, it still sits there on my bed. Tonight I will get that pesky chore done. I promise!

French Bread Pizzazz

Have you ever seen the Pioneer Woman's blog? A friend recommended it and I'm hooked. If you haven't checked it out, I encourage you go check it out only if you have about three hours to look into it, because that's how long it will take you!

Since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, I wanted you to know that I "borrowed" PW's super duper awesome idea to post recipes with photos to go with each step.

Here's one of our favorite recipes ever! It's easy (even I can do it!), good for you and inexpensive!

The ingredient list...notice I'm all about store brands. And you may notice that you can't see the french bread. It's there, I promise. It's having a bad day and hiding in the background.

Preheat the oven to about 375 degrees.



Open the can of tomatoes, petite or regular diced, and rinse them off in a strainer.



Dice the green pepper and onion. If you know of a way that keeps me from crying buckets while cutting the onions, please let me know because I've tried everything from wearing sunglasses to wrapping my head in towel, but to no avail.



Turn you stove on to medium. Press several garlic cloves into a turn or two of extra virgin olive oil. Depending on how much smooching I'll be doing that night, I'll use a few cloves to an obnoxious number of cloves.



Add the peppers and onions to the pan once it's hot.



Chop your mushrooms. I use very few. If my husband finds one he might threaten to not eat my food anymore.



Add mushrooms and rinsed tomatoes to the pan when the onions are almost opaque (I don't use that word enough)or they're nearly done to your liking. Pour on the Italian seasoning 'til your heart's content. Stir.



Cut your loaf of French bread into six pieces.



Pile your Italian mixture on the bread. Add some mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, a dash of parmesan and bake until the cheesy is bubbling. Buon appetito!