Baby-making petition: sign it today!

To Erica and Dave: a friendly suggestion a command from heaven

My sister Erica and her fiancé Dave go to the chapel on July 24th. They’ve been engaged since the end of May, so it’s all a flurry of planning that would never have hopes of coalescing into an actual ceremony were it not for this woman:

Mom. All together now, one-two-three: Thank you Mom!!

I’m contributing a lot to the wedding as well. Or rather, I’m contributing some. OK—I’m going to do the slide show. And that’s something, right? An essential component, I would say. Oh, and I went shopping for a bridesmaid dress. For myself. So that’s two ways that I’ve helped. Yep, I’ve always been a team player (Erica, you can thank me later).

Heidi and Mike (as we have already covered) are electing to procreate immediately, which is a wise choice due to their unbelievable cuteness when they themselves were small ones. So I thought I would encourage ye ole soon-to-be-married couple by showing them pictures of their own extreme cuteness in the hopes that they will respond with “Wow we were cute—gosh honey, it really makes you think—you know what, our duty has become clear to me: let’s have a baby! Golly dang whillikers, let’s have 5! Let’s have a whole football team of ‘em!!!!” Because if there’s one thing that I know about Dave, it’s that he needs a football-team-sized posse of children. Dave? Dave? Are you listening? This is the voice of reason speaking. Don’t ask—just reproduce. It’s your moral duty to this good earth that we all share.

Now whether Erica or Dave will actually use the phrase “golly dang whillikers” is currently up for debate, but let’s not stray from the spirit of the thing, which is: I have aunt-hood needs. My collection of nieces and nephews must be ever-expanding. Stack them to the heavens!

I’m starting a petition, and when we reach 10,000 signatures I think we can legally bind Erica and Dave into releasing their progeny into the world with no delays. Who’s with me? Anyone want to sign? Anyone? Hello?

Will you sign if I show you these Very Persuasive Pictures?

Baby Erica

Little Erica

Baby Dave, inna box

Baby Dave, jowls included

Not only do we need to get this petition thing on the road, but I call on the ranks of the extended family to brainwash these two into a baby-induced haze. In fact, forsooth, I call for a secret meeting during the rehearsal dinner to discuss our hypnotizing schemes and subliminal messaging techniques—we’ve got to come up with something brilliant. Because if this doesn’t work … well, we’ll have to revert to Plan B. Which is “peer pressure”. And that means that Heidi and I have to outnumber Erica. Heidi being pregnant already, you put 2 and 2 together …

Please, extended family. Use your persuasive magic! Don’t let Plan A fail! Don’t send me spiraling into baby time just yet! I need a little longer … just a little longer … though they are kinda cute, eh? With their little chubby knees and their doughy/poofy cheeks and their wrinkly little buns? I could name them Pinkity, Dinkity, Cornelius and Scrubbity-Dubbitty. Mmmmmm … (alert, alert: have unwittingly brainwashed/hypnotized self)

Another cast iron triumph

OK, so I haven’t talked about the first cast iron triumph, which is my cast iron skillet. But let’s pretend I’ve raved about it in at least a dozen posts, and move on to the second cast iron triumph in my life: the indoor griddle/grill whatchamacallit.

Why hello there . . .

Living in an apartment in the city, my outside grilling options are nonexistent unless I want to use the fire escape … but the fire escape overlooks piles of trash and dumpsters, and the thought of my food mingling with potentially contaminated air makes me scrunch my face and look like a gremlin–so it’s out of the question. I’m a good wife, and I don’t want to frighten my husband with ye ole gremlin face. Though I do like to spring it on him sometimes when we’re brushing our teeth, so never mind about the “good wife” part.

After reviewing my options the choice seemed clear, so I quickly took action: I bought a griddle! And I love it. I love it so much that I would spank it, if it had a bottom. And if its bottom weren’t made of rock-hard cast iron.

One thing you should know about me up front: I spank the things I love. And the people I love—as long as they’re my sisters or my husband.

All the recipes for grilling I’ve been salivating over for years, I can finally make inside. Perhaps not with exactly the same results—but hey, I’m making do. To complete my extravagant purchase, I bought a press that I can use to make paninis. I’ve never been a sandwich girl, but paninis are a different matter. Especially once I layer them with the garlickyest of garlicky grilled veggies. With a side of garlicky alioli. Garlic, garlic, garlic, how I love you! [shaking a fist of love in the air] And grilled tuna steaks–I love you too. And grilled asparagus. And grilled everything!

Plus, once you flip over the ridged side that will create grill marks destined to be THE ENVY OF MY NEIGHBORS (sorry, I’m hopped up on coffee and the caps are just pouring out of my keyboard), there is a smooth side … a side destined for eggs-in-a-basket. Pancakes. Hotcakes!  Hash browns! Crumpets, crispins, and crimpcakes! [eyes revolving maniacally in head]

I’m sorry, I need to go commune with my grill. I can’t take the separation any longer.

And now, enjoy some shots of last Friday’s celebratory griddle-inauguration feast. I loaded up on materials at a Mexican grocery store, and the results . . . oh, the results.

Grilling recipes coming–sometime in the next 5 years. (Life tip: it’s all about undercommitting up front so that when you come through sooner than planned, everyone is wowed*)

*That will be a non-refundable $20 charge for the psychological advice—payments accepted in cash, wire transfer, check, or additional cast iron objects shipped express to my apartment. Thank you for your business.