Look What Wii Found Yesterday

Happiness, in a box.

A picture is worth a thousand words

I made these meatless lasagna rolls last Sunday. They were spectacular. Although, I would probably change the sauce that I used. Here's the recipe:
-10 lasagna rolls (I only ended up using 8)
-1 egg
-1 lb ricotta
-1&1/2 cups fresh mozzarella
-1/2 cup parmesan
-1 cup veggies, such as spinach, mushrooms, zucchini, broccoli, tomatoes, finely chopped (I used more than a cup - two small-ish tomatoes, a handful of spinach, half a zucchini and about a half cup chopped broccoli)
-1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
-garlic salt and pepper to taste
-2 cups tomato sauce
1. Cook lasagna noodles according to package directions. Drain.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
3. In a large bowl, combine egg, ricotta, half of the mozzarella, parmesan, veggies, parsley, garlic salt, and pepper. Mix well.
4. Spread the noodles out on a cutting board. Spread a thin layer of the veggie mixture evenly over each noodle.
5. Starting at one end, roll up each noodle.
6. In a shallow baking dish, spread 1 cup of the tomato sauce on the bottom.
7. Add the rolls, seam side down, so they don't unroll and fall apart. Add remaining tomato sauce and remaining mozzarella cheese on top of the rolls.
8. Bake for 30 to 40 minutes or until cooked through and cheese is melted.

Dream Encyclopedia

I have been having some crazy dreams lately. Sometimes they make absolutely no sense, they're torn from some spasm that my brain was having in hallucinogenic technicolor. Other dreams are practically my real life, and I know exactly what they're about. Catch is, I'm not one of those people who EVER knows that I'm dreaming. My boyfriend says that he can usually stop himself in a bad dream by realizing that it's just a dream. This never happens to me. Maybe once. But I always wake up soaked in relief that I'm not running from a psychopathic killer or searching down endless corridors for a bathroom, only to find a giant room with lots of rickety commodes where I'll be forced to choose the cleanest one and squat upon it in front of other people.
Last night's dream was a very realistic fight with my mother. I'm screaming so intensely that my voice doesn't work. I'm screaming in whispers. And I think I might be pummeling her as well. No question what that's about, since we were fighting about my brother in the dream. No question that I feel guilty and helpless and powerless when I think about the situation. No question that what I say falls on deaf ears anytime I talk to her about it.
The night before last I had several dreams. In one, I had just finished fixing my hair (straightening it, which I never do), and it had turned out quite nicely. Big and beautiful. Until I ran my fingers through it, revealing clumps underneath of what looked like fried potato slices, and turned out to be my scalp flaking off in giant, greasy patches. Words cannot describe my horror. I scraped giant clumps of greasy scalp out, which made a sizable pile. I remember feeling very upset that I would have to wash my hair again after it had turned out so nicely the first time.
My scalp has been a bit flaky lately, but greasy-sliced-potato chunks? Any takers?
Also, in that dream, my apartment looked strangely like Rabbit's hole from Winnie the Pooh. Really, where the hell does my brain come up with this stuff?
I would be oh so happy with one night of happy dreams. To fall asleep and not wake up until it's time to get up for the day.

Hairdiggery = Tomfoolery

I had to take my Boomy to the groomer this morning to get his hair did. He hates it. I think he has learned that a car ride in the morning is nothing to get excited about. As soon as we exit the car, we are greeted by the noise of a million dogs barking. I don't take him to PetSmart anymore, because they didn't do a very good job and they were kind of bitchy on more than one occasion. The good thing about them was that they seemed to like my dog.
Now I take him to the Hermitage Pet Inn. They are attached to a vet and also board animals, which I guess is why there seem to be an insane number of animals squalling when we walk in the door. They seem to do a pretty nice job, but he hates it so much that it makes me wonder if they torture him. He gets all shaky the minute we walk in and spends his time trying to slink out the door. But since he's all shaggy his feet just slide on the tile and I hold him there, running in place. And feel evil. Like a mother abandoning her child. I start to feel really guilty and get distracted when trying to explain how I want his hair, which no one has managed to do yet.
As they lead him away, I want to holler after him, "Please be careful with him. He hasn't pooped yet today!" But then I worry they'll think I'm some sort of d.i.n.k.w.a.d.* obsessed with my dog's bowel movements and that they'll clip his nails extra short to punish me.
So now I sit here during my lunch hour, wishing I could call and check on him. I can just imagine his anxious ass, sitting there all quivery, thinking that I have forsaken him.
The funny thing is that I never like his haircuts. I don't get him cut as often as I probably should, but he has to be maintained or his hair turns into a rastafarian's. It isn't pretty, and it hurts him, and then they have to use a surgical blade to get the mats out (learned my lesson there). But anyway, maybe this time they'll do what I want. Still puffy, just trimmed up and even. With clean ears, a clean butt, and shorter nails.
I think I'll give him some wet food in reward for his torture.

*That's Dual Income No Kids With a Dog for you, mister. And no, I don't care if acronyms are not cool.

On forgiveness

Forgiving seems to be one of those things that's easier said than done. Always a goal, but much often harder to achieve. Suppose one day you just decided to forgive a wrong done you...no apology, no nothing. You just said, this would make me a happier person. A happier being. To forgive. No strings attached, no requirements. You tell your brain, which often renegs on its agreements, this time, there is none of that. This time, the decision made, is done. Will you be happier for it? Can you stick with it? Forgiveness is a thing we can grant for little real sacrifice on our own part. Will Smith once said, "The hate in your heart will consume you too." I think he was right. I am satisfied with this choice. And I will let it go, without lingering discontent. It is my gift to give to myself.

Enough Already

The Clinton hate-mongering is really starting to grate on my nerves. The media coverage is so biased, down to the the language that they use when describing the Obama campaign vs. the Clinton campaign. Obama is this golden boy and Clinton is always "barely holding on" or "fighting to stay there".
And Rush Limbaugh. Don't get me started. What a pompous ass.
Dear god, I'm ready for this to be over. Pick a candidate already so that we can at least end the in-fighting and start bashing the Republicans. I mean, isn't that what this is really supposed to be about anyway?

On Being Good

Tony's niece and nephew, Ashlyn and Charlie, spent the night with us on Saturday. They are six and four, respectively. They talk our ears off. An excerpt from the drive to our place:

Me: Y'all are good kids. Do y'all know that? Are y'all good on purpose or is it just easy for you?

Charlie: My brain says, 'Be bad!.' And I have to say, 'No, brain, be good!' It wants me to be bad, and I have to tell it, 'no.'

Only four, and already expounding the trials and tribulations of life on this here planet.