Yet another thing nobody warned us about

We expected less sleep, less me time, less us time, less time in general. We expected more shopping trips for cute little outfits, diapers, formula and groceries. I expected more garbage, thanks to a mountain of diapers.

But I damn sure didn't expect to be swamped under a pile of dirty dishes. Tiny, saucer-sized dishes and brightly-colored spoons.

Here are the dishes Jen and I used yesterday ...



Here are the dishes (except for a couple of cups) that Paige used yesterday ...



Now notice, the top drawer is packed. That's because every food utensil designed for a baby has a "top rack only" designation on it. It makes for a difficult time loading the washer.

Now I don't know what happens if you put a baby's spoon in the bottom rack with the adult spoons. Maybe it melts. Maybe the plastic turns into a poison. I don't know. I don't want to know. But I do want to know why every company makes this stuff "top rack only." Find me a "It doesn't matter what rack" baby plate, bowl and spoon and I'll buy every one I see.

In a rut

Every weekday for the past two weeks, I've had the exact same thing for breakfast and lunch.

Clif Z Bar and Lipton Citrus Green Tea before my radio show. Small bowl of Kashi Cinnamon Harvest cereal after it.

Subway club sandwich, Miss Vickie's jalapeno chips and tea for lunch.

I should probably shake things up. But, oddly, I'm actually enjoying not having to think about breakfast or lunch. In fact, when I've thought about getting something different, nothing sounds good at all.

Chalk it up to middle of the summer doldrums, I guess.

Rib Room VIP party

The Mayor swings by to do what he does ...



Click on the photo to see the wide view (including Nash and I) ...

Rib Room sign is up

Rib Room

Pretty cool, huh?

I've always wanted to be a rancher

So maybe I should look into getting a mini-cow ...

Just right for the garden: a mini-cow

Think about it, all the free milk Jimmie Jo can drink, fertilizer for my tomato plants and I won't have to mow the yard. Sure, the mooing might get annoying, but who'll be able to hear that over a baby crying?

Avoid the ham

On Sunday, I spent the evening puking, thanks to a case of food poisoning.

Through a process of elimination, the culprit had to be a piece of lunch meat I had on a wrap.

Deep down, I think Jen was a little glad I got sick. After all, she's been dealing with morning sickness for a few weeks now. She was probably glad I was the one with my head in the toilet instead of her.

Tomatoes

First tomatoes of the season are ready.

A couple ripened while we were in St. Louis with the Martins, but now I'm getting two or three per day. Since this photo was taken, I've picked eight more organic beauties.

These are a little small (and a little green) compared to what's coming off the plants now. But they are firm and flavorful. I honestly don't know how people eat hothouse tomatoes out of season. They just have zero taste compared to what you get in the summer.

Tomato time

Those are my tomatoes. The first photo is from my cherry tomato plant. The second is from my tomato bush.

We've also got some bell peppers ...



And, of course, Jen's roses ...

Waste not, want not

Eye-opening story from the NYT on the amount of food Americans waste.

While there are food riots in some nations (not to mentions a lot of hungry people right here in the USA), about 27 percent of edible food winds up in landfills ...

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/18/weekinreview/18martin.html?_r=2&oref=slogin&pagewanted=all&oref=slogin

Load up the pantry

That's what a Wall Street Journal columnist says we should be doing ...

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120881517227532621.html

The best sandwich in the world

If I could only eat one sandwich for the rest of my life, it would be the hoagie club sandwich from Nancy's Blue Plate.

I stumbled across this sublime sandwich a few weeks ago. Jen and I were having lunch there when I spotted it on that day's specials. Being a fan of the club sandwich (meat, good; lettuce, good; tomato, good), figured I'd try it.

I still remember that first bite. Suddenly, the world stopped. Birds began singing the "Hallelujah" chorus. A ray of sunlight came through the window, lighting up the sandwich. All that is good, right and wonderful in the world was encapsulated in that bite of sandwich. A single, solitary tear of happiness rolled down my cheek.

Now I don't know the particulars of this sandwich because I'm not a gourmet like Jen. It's on a hoagie roll, instead of toasted wheat bread. It's got some sort of sauce or dressing slathered on it, instead of mayo or mustard.

The problem was it was one of Nancy's specials, not on the regular fulltime menu. This is a major problem.

Last week, I asked one of the waitresses when it would be back. She said she'd mention it to Nancy and put it on the menu for this week.

Monday, I had a dentist appointment and they served it. But since I didn't show up, they kept it on the menu for Tuesday ... when I did show up. It was back today, and yes, we ate there again.

The last bite was just as good as I remembered that first bite being. I could eat that sandwich every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

If the Good Lord made me choose between giving up pizza and Mexican food or giving up that one sandwich, I'm taking that glorious creation. Heck, I'd be willing to give up chips and salsa (and you know how I love chips and salsa) to get that sandwich twice a week.

My friends, heaven is a sandwich.

R.I.P. Rib Room

That's right, it's gone. Until at least 2009.

Depending on what version of the story you hear, either Neumeier got into a dispute with the guy who owns the land the Beer Garden is on or the architects who designed the second story addition to the Beer Garden screwed up the price. (You can see the design for it here ... www.ribroom.com) Either way, Bill announced it's not opening this summer.

I'm not sure if that means the Rib Room restaurant itself won't be open. I sure hope it is. I can't go a full year without some of that smoked chicken. And I'm almost out of dry rub!

This is the worst thing to happen to downtown Fort Smith since the 1996 tornado.

First the Stardust, now the Rib Room. If Papa's closes, I might curl up into the fetal position and die.

Oral surgery and food

OK, so I know I have zero right to complain about this. I mean, I've done better than many of my friends who've had wisdom teeth cut out. After the first day, I've not taken anything stronger than aspirin.

But, honestly, I think my speedy recovery has made it worse.

I'm stuck eating mashed potatoes and/or mac and cheese and/or scrambled eggs for every meal. But since I'm not in any physical pain, my brain is telling me "Hey, let's get a burger. Or some chips and salsa."

I know my mouth isn't ready for that sort of thing yet. And I honestly think if I was in pain (or any sort of major discomfort at all), I'd not be having these cravings for food I can't have.

I've been reading quite a bit about my options for replacing the freaky teeth. Looks like I'll go with a bridge, instead of an implant. The idea of somebody shooting a stainless steel screw into my jaw freaks me out. And that's what they do with the implant. Shoot a screw into the jaw, then attach a fake tooth the part of the screw sticking out of the gum.