When your hair looks this good, why waste it on a hockey game? That’s right. The Portland Winter Hawks have gone from being in almost last place to almost first place. See what a few weeks and Brandon Dubinsky will get you? Doo-by! Doo-by!

However. I do not know much about hockey. I do not even know if they won. (The score was 2-1, Winter Hawks, when we left mid-second period.) You will have to ask Hockey God about that.

“It’s boring!” says Wacky Girl.

“I am planning on never skating again,” says Wacky Boy.

So we left my husband at the game, sullen and grumpy because his family does not share his love of hockey, and went to Roux instead.

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Hello, darlings. Here, have some truffles.

Questions today are:

Dear Wacky Mommy,

Blondie (But Not For Long)

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A man and his wife are dining at a table in a plush restaurant, and the husband keeps staring at a drunken lady swigging her gin as she sits alone at a nearby table.

The wife asks, “Do you know her?”

“Yes,” sighs the husband, “She’s my ex-wife. She took to drinking right after we divorced seven years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.”

“My God!” says the wife, “Who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?”

“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 Hockey God 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 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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Here’s some of that Pacific Northwest Upspeak you hear so much about, that leads to confusion, miscommunication, slurred speech, the urge to drink too much coffee, a fondness for banana slugs, etc.:

When you haven’t had a shower in your house? (Yeah, we have a tub, but no shower? Since something, like, 1986? Or whenever I first started blogging about this? Which was completely a rilly rilly long time ago?) And the contractor guy finally calls to make arrangements for his gun-for-hire plumber to come out? What you do not want to hear is the dude saying, “We’re pretty busy this week though?”? See? I want to, maybe, wash my hair here? Possibly? Not at the gym, or at my girlfriend’s house?

Me: “I HAVE NO SHOWER.” (losing all upspeak)

Him: “Oh, right. Maybe I should call your husband?”

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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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.

Burn in hell, Neil Entwistle.