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I was bragging about how fantastic my bacon and cheese stuffed jalapeno halves are today.  Frankly I do that a lot…I brag about my cooking as if it somehow absolves me of my gluttony and excess.  Today I was going on and on and on about how good my stuffed jalapeno are.

You see, I mix creamed cheese, shredded cheese, dill, and chopped, cooked bacon.  Then I halve and seed jalapeno (from Lewis’ Orchards…and they were beauties, let me tell you!) and I stuff them with the cheese mixture.  Then I crush Ritz crackers, add some melted, salted butter, and top each pepper with that.  And then I bake them into submission.  It’s a thing of beauty.

And I bragged along the way.  Each blessed step I sang my own praises.  I belted out to all who would hear what a lucky family they are to have me for their personal chef.

I only heard one or two muffled snickers.  And fortunately rolled eyes are silent.

And then….

(I hate ‘and thens’….)

I had my ego properly deflated.

While I was bragging ad nauseam, I was throwing the jalapeno pepper seeds and pith into the sink garbage disposal.  I turned the water on, and flipped the switch…as I’m standing right over the sink.

The Jalapeno Pepper slurry below kicked up some serious aerosolized BTU’s if you know what I’m sayin’.

Don’t know what I’m sayin?  I INHALED Jalapeno Pepper Spray, homemade in my own sink.

I have raised some heartless children, apparently, because as I coughed and gagged and wheezed and cried…

they laughed.  No, laughed doesn’t cover it.  Chortled.  Gufawed.

My Captain was silent, but smirking.

***sigh***

But hey, those were darn good stuffed peppers.

(Mama’s Cooking Ego: deflated, but Intact.)

My Captain fought a fire from 10:30 last night until the wee hours of the morning and then went back again later this morning when the same homeowner saw some smouldering ash and panicked again.

My Captain’s shift, 31C, and the crews from surrounding stations made what is called a good “Knock”.  They stopped the garage fire from taking the entire house.  A valiant effort was made by all, and it was a fantastic save!

That was last night.  Then this morning, he traveled over to another fire station where he is riding on the Tower (the big ladder truck with a bucket at the top) for 24 hours.  My Captain has his nose to the grindstone, he does!

Why does he work so hard?

1) The county needs people to work!  We are short on medics and officers, especially in the summer months when people take time off to be with their families. He feels a duty to his fellow citizens to make sure they are covered.

2) We, like the rest of the country, are struggling to make ends meet and he is wise to make hay while the sun shines.

3) He loves his job.

4) He probably needs frequent breaks from a goofy wife.

5) He doesn’t know how to relax and let moss grow under his feet.

So we took Sunday Brunch to him today, Varmint, Critter, and I.  We took Steak and Eggs in Red-Eye Gravy, Southern Greens, and Bean and pickled watermelon rind salad.

No, I didn’t cook all of that.  I actually ordered and picked it up from Alexanders, in Buckeyestown.  I figured it would be different from the Dunkin Doughnuts meal he was probably going to partake in if we didn’t bring him something.  ( I didn’t say healthier, I said different.)

I didn’t take a picture…he wolfed it down too fast.

I may not be able to help his sleep-deprived state, but no one, NO ONE, will ever be able to accuse me of letting My Captain go hungry.

While I was paying the bill for My Captain’s Steak and Eggs to go, Chef Chris came out and informed me that this Wednesday he’s going to be serving Ribs, family style at Alexander’s in Buckeyestown.  He smokes it himself.  He slow cooks everything himself.  He is the KING of Southern in this part of the county.

So….

guess where I will be Wednesday night?

We decided to break in our brand-new, extra-spiffy, huger-than-huge tent last night.

We bought it for our upcoming trip to Glacier National Park with the kids later on this summer.   My Captain and I, being exceptionally Scout-Ready kind of people, decided it would be wise of us to make sure we:

1) know how to set up the new tent.

2) don’t have any tears or rips in the tent.

and

3) can comfortably fit both the munchkins and ourselves in the tent without anyone getting squished.

So we took ourselves and our gear to the wildest spot in Dickerson, Maryland that we could find….

Grandma Jane’s Orchard.

And we set up the tent.

It went like this:  My Captain, Varmint and Critter, did the work, and I took pictures and read the tent’s set-up instructions from the comfort of my Zero-Gravity Camp chair.

Not because I’m a sloth.  Not because I like to sit while others work.  I sat because my @#$^^$#!!! Knee still won’t work right. It keeps giving out on me for no good reason, and I’m in constant pain.  (But that is another story altogether.  And hey, aren’t we all tired of hearing about it?)

But on a happier note, my pretty pink toenails were cute as a button, if you ask me.

Oh, you didn’t?  Sorry.

Anyways, they did a great job.

I mean the family, not the toes.

What struck me most was the fantastic camaraderie they shared while they worked.

They showed tremendous teamwork.  Each person willing to do their best. (Would you just look at those adorable little piggly-wigglies?)

Would you just look at his gorgeous hind-end?  Man! I love that guy!

They finished, feeling flush with pride and excitement for sleeping under the stars.

And our new tent was enormous…three whole rooms…each kid got their own compartment, and My Captain and I took the center room.

And we slept like the pioneers in the wilds….the wild of Dickerson at Grandma Jane’s Orchard….where the bathroom was only a short jog away.

And the Fridge.

And her TV.

And internet.

And the phone with the number for Kristopher’s Pizza Delivery on the speed dial.

I just LOVE roughing it!

We’re home now, but while we were at the beach, Critter surprised me with a random act of kindness.  I was rushing around, doing whatever it is I do when I’m rushing around, and he came behind me with a “Mom!  Mom!  Mom mom mom mom mom!”

I answered with an exasperated, “WHAT?!”

And he braved my snarkiness with a held out hand and a grin.

“I found this rock.  It looks like a heart, so I brought it to you.”

Oh.

Sniffle.

He brought it to me because it is the most natural thing in the world that when he finds a heart-shaped rock, he thinks of his mom.

Who will be my supplier of heart-shaped rocks when he grows up and wants to give them to his girlfriend, or wife, or daughter?

Sniffle.

In case you’re wondering, that rock is now safely tucked away.  It’s worth more than any store-bought jewel to me.

Kinda like he is.

Hello my friends!  I’m so sorry I’ve been gone a while.  I’ve been on vacation, had problems like power outages, and came home to a house in 100 degree heat without a working air conditioner.   Inexplicably, at no time during all of that did I feel like sitting down to write.

But all is fixed now, and I’m finding the humor in the last couple of days.

Case N Point:

We had cleaned out the freezer before we left for the second leg of our beach stay last week.  In the process of leaving, we remembered to turn the ice maker back on, but we, er, forgot to put the bucket back under it.

ahem.

So when we got home, and I opened the freezer door, I got this:

What is that, you say?  Why it’s ice cubes about knee-high in the bottom of the freezer, in the freezer door, and all over my kitchen floor, thank you very much.

And yes, it’s obvious My Captain must have married me for my looks, ’cause it clearly wasn’t for my brains.

Hey, for giggles, let’s get a close-up of that thar catastrophe!

You Betcha!  I’m happy to show my latest screw up!

Well, here is where, AGAIN, My Captain uses his Adapt, Improvise, and Overcome talents.  Visualize us late at night, having just driven home from the beach, it’s 100 degrees outside, it’s 105 degrees in the house, and there is no working Air Conditioning.   We are a little (and by little, I mean HUGELY) crabby, and want to just fall into bed.  But who can sleep in that kind of heat and humidity?

So My Captain gathers up all the wasted ice cubes, puts them in an under the bed storage box we happened to have laying around (doesn’t everyone?), and A LA Wyle E. Coyote, jerry-rigged the following home-made air-conditioner:

He’s like my own McGuyver, only sexier.

No, really.

I have to tell you, I really love that guy.   I suspect he would have not only caught the Road Runner, but he’d have had it roasting on a home-made spit, on a perfectly made campfire, basting in a gourmet marinade before you could say, “The air conditioner’s $800.00 motor broke and needs replacing.”

Ya can’t have him, he’s mine.  Go get yer own.