Tuesday, March 17, 2009

St. Paddy's Day

Mama Jo: Believe it or not, my favorite holiday is St. Patrick’s Day.

Christmas? I never have my act together. But, by March 17th I usually am able to send out Christmas, um, St. Patrick’s Day Cards…at least every other year!
I love to make a St. Patrick’s Day feast with Corned Beef and Cabbage, Irish Soda Bread, Potato Soup (yum), clover leaf rolls, green jello (and just about anything else green I can think of). I invite everyone I know. Actually, I invite anyone who is willing to come and enjoy GREAT food. (The folks who think we eat Klingon food can just stay home!)

Anyway, a few years ago we weren’t having a McCelebration for our favorite holiday (waaaa). BUT I found what appeared to be a fantastic recipe that we would enjoy. It was a Corned Beef and Pickled Cabbage concoction that looked oh-so-promising…enough that I tripled the recipe. Little did I know that it took the enamel right off of your teeth and was truly awful. (little sob) Mr. Incredible looked down at the super sized bowl or St. Paddy’s McAwfulness, looked at all the little Incredibles with their plates full of same St. Paddy’s McAwfulness, and suggested that they start eating because he wasn’t going to eat McAwfulness all week as leftovers in his McLunch. As tears welled up in the eyes of all the little Incredibles, Mama Jo made the executive decision that this new recipe had failed on every level and was going down the McGarbage disposal. (Except for the heaping helping we gave to our neighbor who happened to stop by during the McFeast and was sure her husband would like it. We found out later he didn’t and it went down their McGarbage disposal.)


Usually things we don’t like we just give to the dog and, depending on her enthusiasm for the McDisaster, let her judge just how bad it was. (It was so bad even the dog wouldn’t eat it!) We decided that it was soooo bad that we couldn’t subject the dog to it.
Jemima: Whew! That was a close one.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Ice is nice...

Mama Jo: Jemima LOVES ice. I don’t know why. I’ve never heard of a dog who can hear the crack of the ice tray, from ANYWHERE in the house, and come running. She patiently waits for me (or any one of the Incredibles) to toss her an ice cube. She picks it up, goes and lays down on the carpet, and then completely enjoys her frosty cold treat. Crunch, crunch, crunch. It’s not like it has any flavor! I don’t understand it, but I always give her an ice cube treat. Or two.
Jemima: Hey, I don’t question why you like CHOCOLATE. Don’t knock the ice.