Canned Meat...What is Happening at my House?!

You know I love you - because this tidbit about what I served my family should be completely (and understandably) top secret!  I have an overall disdain for canned, processed meat - with the exception of an occasional can of tuna.  The thought of a gelatinous blob of meat, where you can't be certain of the origins or even prove that it's the critter it states on the label, normally keeps me far away from the stuff.  But I was intrigued by the concept of pulled pork, looking like it had been simmering all the day long.

I spent about $11 on the can...and when I got home I opened it with an underlying sense of doom.  What sort of protein would be bobbing around in the huge can - and more importantly would it make me wretch in disgust?  I peeked inside and found broth with a whole roast inside.  The ingredients were all natural - with no MSG or artificial ingredients - which is a good thing!  Using monster tongs, I pulled it out and slid the lump into my stovetop dutch oven and inspected it.  The chunk looked like a pork roast, smelled like a pork roast...but I was still highly suspicious.  I grabbed two forks and prodded at it, and to my surprise it pulled apart - just like the roast I make from scratch.  (I say 'just like' - but you know what I mean!).  I shredded it and poured in our favourite bottled sauce - seen in the pic above - and simmered it on low for about 15 minutes until Hubby walked through the door.  It smelled good, so I hid the can - wondering if he would notice.

In he walked, fresh crusty buns in hand, commenting on the yummy smell permeating the main floor.  Trying to act natural, I double checked the can was well-hidden and ushered him into the dining room along with our three hooligans.  Before serving I nervously tried a small bite...it was good!  Like really good!  I could not tell that I was eating canned meat at all!

After he finished polishing off two buns slopped with heaping mounds of BBQ-y pulled pork, I dragged him into the kitchen to show him the can.  He was surprised...but admitted it was good.

So - I'm putting a few cans in my pantry for those times when I need to whip up a quick meal for an unexpected crowd.  And I would hazard a guess that they'll never know what hit 'em!  Unless of course they read my blog!  If they have no idea then the truth about who reads my blog will become glaringly obvious :) 

I can't believe it but...I actually ate canned meat and lived to tell the tale!

Happy Canned-Meat Eating!

Kathy Pettit

Kindly Refrain From Getting Lost

Are you lost?  Don't be.  Step forward, straighten up those lovely shoulders and BE who you are.  Finding yourself is way overrated!  Creating yourself, however, is way more fun - and less stressful!  I mean, what if you kept looking for your little old self aimlessly and never, ever found it?  The last thing you want is to be sitting in your rocker, your white hair gleaming in the sun, shaking your fist at the air regretting you never found you.  (Psst....I've got a secret little old self in rocker - I found you - you're in the rocker!  Revel in being you!) 

We all work hard to carve out a small niche in this world that we can lay claim to do.  We do it with the people we surround ourselves with, the home we warm with our presence, and the difference we make in the lives of those around us.  I'm no artist - but to think of the possibilities available through CREATING myself kinda makes me excited.  I mean I could be really great.  Not just regular great.  REALLY great!  And I hate being lost.  I have no sense of direction (DD and hubby - no giggling!) and have a tendency to get muddled quite easily.  If I tried to go "and find myself" I could be gone for a very long time!!  Finding myself sounds like way more work than just creating me. 

Now, read this next part in a whispery voice in your head so as not to alert the 'establishment' (I have no idea what people are referring to when they talk about the 'establishment - but it sounds impressive!): I may say I am going to find myself...because I need some peace and quiet.  It's a lie.  But I flash my creative licensing card to take full advantage.  AND if I get 'lost' on the way - you can rest assured it was at cozy coffee joint or at a small bistro serving crisp glasses of white wine (maybe with a good friend).  But that kind of lost just helps the creative process along.  It takes time to make a masterpiece!

Love yourself, friends.  You are each a work of art.

I can't believe it but...I hope I haven't alerted the 'establishment'! 

Happy creating,

Kathy Pettit :)

A Place for Everything...and Everything Not in its Place

I'd like to start by pointing out (much to the dismay of myself and hubby) that this is NOT an image of our woodpile.  This is like a work of art, not like the lumpy, clumpy jumble that we have stacked for the impending cold weather. 

But when I saw this image it got me thinking about order and the lack of it that seems to have invaded my cupboards, storage areas and my life in general.  It snuck in like an autumn leaf on the bottom of an unsuspecting shoe.  My sense of order has been infected with a lack of time, resources and (if I'm completely honest) shortage of good old-fashioned gumption! 

My linen closet has become an incestuous mix of towels AND bedding on the same shelves (oh!  The shame and horror!), our garage looks much like a before ad on a Canadian Tire commercial, and my normally well-organized Christmas storage room (yes, that is another blog for another day - I have a storage room devoted entirely to the Christmas season...everyone has a weakness - right?!) looks like a preview for the show Hoarders!  Which I'm not (with that one sticky exception of Christmas decorations...)!

When we had a smaller house - we were forced to keep ourselves organized.  Bigger house = more room for the accumulation of junk (minus the Christmas decorations - definitely not junk!) and more room to spread ourselves out.  This growth - combined with having our third hooligan child - is a recipe for chaos.  I had a discussion with my boss about how much life changes when the kids outnumber the parents.  My Martha Stewart died when Coconut came along...she shriveled up like a California Raisin.  I'm okay with that - because the truth is I don't really need to have crafts cluttering my space.  What I'm not okay with is the crazy way I have forgotten my neurotic organizing behaviour.  It disappeared.  And that darned behaviour took away my time when it ran away.

So if you happen to stop by and notice the scattered way I have piled up my serving bowls or you go to grab a towel and end up with a fitted sheet - don't judge.  Rather, offer to babysit my perfect angels which would give me the opportunity to have some "free" time to re-organize! 

A long weekend is fast-approaching - maybe I'll squeeze in some re-organizing time.  Or not....

I can't believe it but...I gave you peak inside my linen closet!

Kathy Pettit

 

I Did it...But Was 'It' Good Enough?!

For those few that have been following my journey, I have done it!

With the encouragement of friends, family and a little motivation from the occasional (cough) bottle glass of wine and the copious consumption of my kryptonite (which happens to chocolate!) - I submitted a book for The Catherine Literary Contest with the Romance Writer Association of America!  It was approved, as they were only accepting a selected number of entries - which is the first step in the right direction. 

How did this all start?  Well, I have a fantasy novel mapped out, of which I have about 400 hand-written pages I completed in 2007.  Earlier this year I decided it was high time to get it 'officially' started.  27,000 words of it have been weaved into the fiction novel, with a heck of a lot more to go.  But, I stopped work on it - just temporarily - as I felt the pull towards the romance genre.  I blame my friend (D.D.D. - totally referring to you!), who is currently in final edit stages of her own romance book, who got me thinking more about the romance scene.  Coincidentally, after chatting with her, I had a dream about a farmer named Noah (it's okay - it was only a dream)...and from that moment the character began taking on a life of his own.  I couldn't stop writing his story.  I am addicted, and it has become a focus of every spare minute I have (which to be honest - does not equal a lot of minutes!).  However, I have been able to write about 57,000 words of my novel in about three short months - and I am finishing up the ending in the next few weeks.  My submission to The Catherine was only 7500 words, which includes my synopsis - so I cross every body part that I can that the 'hook' is strong enough to get the authors, agents and publishers that judge the work to WANT to read more!  And I have to take the time to thank my hubby, colleagues, and friends for their feedback/editing on the preliminary edition of my novel.  Every single one of you that touched the story - I appreciate it immensely!

It is interesting creating these characters from scratch - their likes, dislikes, strengths and weaknesses...figuring out what makes them tick.  Being a female and writing the role of that 'perfect' man, has it's challenges.  As hubby edited the 7500 words, he would look up at me, his eyebrows raised, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth, working his red pen across the pages.  I would smile back, wondering to myself what will happen down the road when he eventually gets to the juicy bits??!!  In reading and writing these kind of books, are we setting ourselves up to be eternally disappointed with the actual males we come across?  Do we set those expectations so high that it is an impossibly difficult target to reach?  As women, do we need to lower our romantic expectations on the poor men in our lives?  I don't know.  But sometimes, a part of me thinks that if men read those books, and acted like the good guys, they might just have the perfect (and pretty secret - as I don't know any man that reads them - YET!) formula for how to act, think and behave to get their perfect girl.  And, if they followed it, maybe, just maybe, they would have the best marriages and happiest wives on the planet!  Just a thought...so maybe for Father's Day ladies, grab your hubby a steamy romance novel and highlight the parts that matter most.  Subtle?  No...but possibly the best investment you could ever make!

I can't believe it but...I  have officially entered a manuscript and may one day fulfil a dream of becoming an author!

Happy reading,

Kathy Pettit (note: I decided to use my full name, Katherine L. Pettit as my official author name !)

Juggling For Balance

Sometimes, quite literally, there are so many balls in the air – that I am certain I may drop one.  And that one ball may be the most important one in play.  There are friends, family, responsibilities (what – I have responsibilities?!)  work, kids, errands, shopping, my blog, my novels that I am writing, my dogs, my chores, my fitness routines  – I am sure you all get the drift because as you are taking the time to read this you are probably neglecting one of those balls!  (But I appreciate that you are willing to do so!) 

If I stop and ask , “Am I doing a good job?”  It would depend on perspective.  If your ball happens to be the one I dropped (sorry, man – I know it sucks!) you’d say ‘no.’  If I am exceeding your expectations, you may be thrilled with my deft abilities in the circus arena.  However, the reality is I am no performer.  I struggle to find that balance of have-to-do’s and would-like-to-do’s.  I have discovered the have-to-do’s are not as much fun as the would-like-to-do’s!  Having both needs met simultaneously would be awesome!  I would have loved to sit by (and in) my friend and neighbour’s pool (which is a fab place to be, by the way!) and bask in the sun with a chilly beverage…but alas…my have-to-do’s had piled up from the week so I was unable to partake in the glorious freedom of sitting idly by their pool and tended by a man-servant (I say this in jest, but he is quite a good bartender!) who looks remarkably like a teddy bear version of Keifer Sutherland.  Ahhh...I digress…

Balancing all my stuff is tough.  But, I’m made of tough stuff – so I muddle through with a smile – hoping I haven’t let too many people down along the way.  I keep moving, onward and upward!  That is where a little tipple of wine (or Tequila Sunrises ;D) helps blur the reminders of your have-to-do’s and focus on your would-like-to-do’s.  Here is where I give each and every reader the permission to blur those lines a bit.  Spend a wee bit of time on what you want to do.  For me, even writing this blog or working on my book is important – so here I am multi-tasking…watching Game of Thrones, doing laundry and blogging J  So please forgive any grievous errors you may take note of!  They came from a place of liking-to-do's!

 

I can't believe it but...I used the archaic term "I digress" in good form!

Happy balancing!

Kathy Pettit

An Order of Romance...Would You Like Kids With That?!

Valentine's Day is not the same when you have been blessed with children.  The romance is less romantic.  The silence is non-existent.  The chocolate box is swarmed and devoured by the kids.  The intimate dinner - actually - I am not sure this even exists!  I love my kids - don't judge! But I also would love to spend time with Hubby without being interrupted with fun facts about Josh Hutcherson or the ins and outs of fourth grade drama.

So, we weave some attempt at romance when the kids are otherwise occupied. We eat a family friendly meal, listen to the jokes and tribulations of the day, while we sip wine with our macaroni and cheese dinner.  We casually look at our watches and remind the kids that bedtime is coming.  We try hard to drink just enough wine to pretend we are celebrating, and not too much that we fall asleep when the kids do.  We wait patiently for the sandman to lull the hooligans into a deep sleep.  Then we celebrate in the quiet of the night with more wine and each other. 

Maybe this is real romance.  The stuff that builds the foundation of our relationship.  Maybe when our kids have grown, and have left the house, we will find Valentine's Day a little too quiet.  Right now it sounds tempting, but knowing we always want what we don't have - I am sure we will miss it.  And after they start their families, they'll need to dump their kids somewhere so they can celebrate the day smothered in romance - I'll bet the first people they call is Grandma and Grandpa.  So our Valentine's Day will evolve yet again.

Maybe that's what it's about.  Not just the romance, but the deep love we have (most of the time!) for our kids and for the family we created.  That, and of course, the wine.  Because wine makes everything a titsch better...

I can't believe it but...I admitted to drinking wine AND eating macaroni at the same time!

Happy romancing,

Kathy Pettit

The Self Conscious Extrovert

Incidentally - NOT me dancing

It is time to freely admit it.  A time to share with everyone the painful truth that exists in my life.  It's not easy, a few gulps of air (and maybe wine) to bare it all.  But I have to lay the burden down.

I can't dance.  

There it is.  Just like that.  The truth.  For those that are kind and give me the benefit of the doubt - please don't.  You're not doing me any favours.  You see, my dance moves (or lack there of) are awkwardly stuck in the 90's.  Nobody really "raises the roof" anymore, or pulls off a killer "running man" - or even a perfect 10 "Cabbage Patch."  Even if they did - does it look good?  Wait!  Don't answer that!  Truth hurts.  The only real dance move I could do with ease was when Kris Kross made me "Jump Jump."  The Humpty Dance posed some challenges, as did BBD, Rob Bass, Young MC...I have to face it - I am Rhythmically Challenged. 

Luckily,  I have a good friend that suffers from the same affliction (or so she says, but she may be one of those fakers that lie to try and make you feel better ;D - kidding BL!), so I am not alone in my inability to move to the rhythm (because rhythm is a dancer, it's a sole companion, you can feel it everywhere...sorry couldn't resist!!)on a dance floor.  So, between the two of us we came up with a money-making venture to help us poor moms hit the dance floor.  Someone should start up a dance group for beginner mom dancers with no skills - and teach us HOW to dance some basic go-to moves that keep us looking current and confident on the dance floor.  I am certain we could find a group of self-conscious moms that would love to never do the "worm" again!  (Kidding, I was never co-ordinated enough to pull that off!)  

So there it is.  Don't think any less of me for my discomfort of all things dance.  Instead, rock out to the 90's with me...or, if it's easier, pretend you don't know me on the dance floor.  I'll understand.

I can't believe it but...the truth is out there.

Happy Grooving,

Kathy Pettit

Why Explore the Tree...The Nest is So Comfy?!

It starts with diapers.  And tiny feet, wrapped in tiny socks that won't stay on.  The soft, downy head cupped gently in your hand...smelling of baby shampoo and newness.  Hands that seem to belong on a doll clutching your finger so tightly you wonder where that strength comes from.

Then, you wake up one morning, roll over bleary-eyed, look at the alarm clock and blink back shock that it's not 4am and your little one actually made it past 7am.  What seems like a week later, sunlight streams into your room, and when you check the time it's past 8...you smell toast...hear the happy chatter of kids discussing the best plan of attack to squeeze every bit of joy from their Saturday.  You sit up, shake the sleepies from your head and reflect back to the time of diapers and tiny feet wrapped in socks. 

Time in the nest is skewed.  At times you want to rush the daily routine that has you feeling exhausted...but when it slips by it's hard not to miss.  The nest is warm, safe and home.  But like all young, the call of freedom rings loudly over the treetops.  The pull of stepping out of the nest is normal, and trying to explain to the little ones that the timing has to be just right to encourage them onto that first branch.  Family traditions will have to evolve to allow for some first flights.  But right now I can't let go.  My Peach, Pickle and Coconut belong snuggled in the nest, under the wing of a watchful Mom and Dad.  One step at a time.

The moment, I know, is around the corner.  The moment when they look back with a smile and step off the branch - wings spread wide, confident and prepared.  Until then I will try and cherish each moment and each day. 

I can't believe it but...I miss diapers!

Happy cherishing,

Kathy Pettit

Weaving Words

Best Designed Library Kansas City

I have a tendency to exaggerate.  I have always been a self-diagnosed story-teller.  Not the kind of tales that car salesman and fisherman make us all raise an eyebrow to.  (Sorry to my car-selling friend - totally NOT referring to you, ahem.)  That was awkward....!  But rather, I like to SEE stories in the mundane and everyday.  One tiny moment triggers a bit of a chain reaction in my squidgy brain.  The event may be something my kids or hubby says...it may be something I see or hear.  All these tiny little threads are weaved into a story or memory that I feel the need to share.  All of your threads have made their way into my tale.  Whether you are the reader, the crossing guard, the person who sells me my coffee, or even someone from my past, you have been gently woven into my being and my tale.  You fit in perfectly.  Especially after a nice glass of blush wine...because everything is better with wine.

If you are reading this, you and I are linked across the time space continuum (I don't know what this really means, but sounds smarty-like).  Thanks for being a part of my story.  Especially you.  Yeah -YOU!  You're awesome! 

I can't believe it but...I am admitting to a teeny tiny, barely noticeable, smidgen of a flaw in myself. 

Happy story sharing,

Kathy Pettit