“The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.”

– Anne Morrow Lindbergh, writer (1906-2001)

I cannot be insincere, or lie to you, Internet. A lot of my time revolves around What to Cook. Will it be on the table at 7, when Wacky Dee gets home, or more like 8:30, when I finally pull my head out of the oven? And will the kids eat it? Really do not care about that one anymore. I’m extremely tired of being slave to my kids. They’re growing fine. And they’ll never be forced to eat oxtails or tamales in a can, like I was as a kid. So their complaints go in one ear and right back out.

We mostly dine at home. Especially since the last two years have been remodel from hell and eating dinner out? Perdon? (I fantasize about it, really. And in the fantasies, I always order french fries. And a big slab of chocolate cake.)

I’m making this column a weekly feature. Chain mails? Flippin’ hate chain mails. But when Wacky N hooked my name onto one I was so happy when those recipes started coming in. If anyone has recipes to share, please e them to me, or just do a post! Am tired of cooking, but trying to stay inspired… Have a superfine Tuesday.

BRUNCH CASSEROLE
from the files of Wacky Great-Grandma, with modifications by Wacky Mommy
(this is a make-ahead dish)

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Wacky Girl has gone to a whole lotta of birthday parties in the nearly seven years she has been here on Planet It�s Somebody�s Birthday Again. In fact, just today she went to two more! (One for a boy, one for twin girls. So really? It was more like three, three, three parties in one day!)

The child is something of a birthday party expert. As a party-hopping mommy, I appreciate a fun party that doesn�t overwhelm the kids (or the parents) and leaves us wanting more. (First tip: Most of the time less is more and just perfect.) Here are some suggestions for you, and some pitfalls to avoid. Happy partying!

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Dear Wacky Mommy:

Question: How do we encourage our daughter in her artwork without making her more conceited?

Signed,

Mother of Three

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Here, I’ll write this in the style of Betty Crocker ’s Cook Book for Boys and Girls, so you can deal. This recipe is total comfort food. Thank you to Zipdodah for suggesting it. It sounded so good when she described it, I put away everything I was fixing for dinner and made my own version of this instead. Then made it again two nights later. Then got on the scale and decided to not fix it for awhile. It’s like a Seven-Layer Dip only more layers, and yummier.

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From this day forward, Wacky Daddy will be referred to as Wacky D. Please make a note of it. Also, my Wacky Neighbor just brought over an entire plate of gooey, frosted brownies. OMFG. Thank you, WN!

Happy and cold today. Not wishing for anyone to roast in hell. Am writing now, must go.

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Burn in hell, Neil Entwistle.

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Mine does. It’s not the Clap, it’s Lice. “Scratch, everybody! Scratch!” Yeah, I have some hideous sinus infection combo wallop thing, my throat is still trashed (the doctor took a long look at my vocal cords — “Are you sure they’re not damaged?” he asked. “No, I just sound sexy.”) The kids are finally over the flu-cold-respiratory thing they had, so they’re bouncing off the walls — which brings us to My Life in Hell, the Afternoon Session: Wacky Girl’s Class is Chock Full O’ Bugs.

Just in time for Valentine’s Day snuggliness.

Wacky Girl: “Y’know how we found out? S looked at S and said, ‘Hey, there’s something in your hair!’ And then that’s how we found out it was lice.”

Neat-o. Our heads have been checked and so far, so good. It’s just the power of suggestion is all.

Feeling itchy?

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Happy VD — Clap, everybody! Clap!

Love and kisses,

WM

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Also, the Stabber? Spent the entire morning on Friday stabbing himself in the forehead with a pencil. (A sub was there. She refused to “play the heavy,” as my hippie parents used to say, with the kids.)

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“My breasts are so versatile now. I can wear them down, up, or side to side.”

– Cybill Shepherd

And in the in-box today (Does my writing suck? Apparently. Along with my secretarial skills):

Thank you for submitting to The Georgia Review. I’m sorry but your submission was not accepted for publication.

For future submissions please review our submission guidelines. You failed to enclose an SASE with your submission, nor did you even supply a return address. We will not respond via email in the future.

Best.

Scott R. LaClaire
Production Manager
The Georgia Review
The University of Georgia
Athens, GA 30602-9009

706.542.3481
Georgia Review

To Scott, I say:

Girl Scouting Is All About Friendship. Girl Scouting Is All About Leadership. Girl Scouting Is All About Caring. Girl Scouting Is All About Fun. Yes, the cookies are in, ta-ra-ra-boom-di-ay… Thin Mints, yes. Lemon Thingies, eh. Peanut Butter Tagalongs, hell yes. All Abouts, hand ‘em over. Will now drown my literary sorrows in honey-vanilla chamomile tea and a large plate of cookies while watching last night’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy on tape. (Tell me again, why the hell did Meredith stick her hand inside blown-up guy? To get McDreamy’s attention? Well, that’s one I never tried before.)

Did I mention I have laryngitis? Me, with no voice. Imagine. Hockey God and children are thrilled and not even trying to hide it.

Was also recently rejected by McSweeneys, both online and published versions. Have also been rejected by numerous other literary mags in the past few years. Far too many to mention here. This is just the most recent round of me trying to get my shit published. Have also been shot down by 20, 30, 80 who can remember, really, literary agents, publishers, feature-style magazines, etc.

Have also given up on my writers’ group. Rewrite, rewrite, repeat, and still, they kept saying the novel had no “voice.” Me. With no voice. Imagine.

Love,

WM

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