Slow Cooker Tortilla Soup

This is seriously good soup.  So good that every time I make it, I am amazed that I can make something this good.  It tastes at least as good as any restaurant’s Tortilla soup (I’m looking at you Barrel of the Cracker). 

This was born of curiosity and the beginnings of another recipe.  It started as a recipe on A Year of Slow Cooking and I was curious about how such a simple recipe could taste so good.  But John said, “I think this would be better as soup”.  So I added some chicken broth.  And then I decided it didn’t have quite the right flavor, so I added the chili powder and garlic salt.  Those three ingredients add a richness and depth that is wonderful!

Ingredients

• 2-3 Chicken Breasts
• 2 Jars Salsa
• 2 Cans Black Beans (rinsed, drained)
• 16 oz Frozen Corn
• 32 oz chicken broth
• 1 tbsp Garlic powder
• 1 tbsp Chili powder
• Sour Cream (optional)
• Tortilla Chips (optional)
• Shredded cheese (optional)

Instructions

1. Spray crock pot with nonstick spray.
2. Trim fat off the chicken breast.
3. Place chicken breast at the bottom of the crock pot.
4. Pour salsa, black beans, and corn on top of the chicken breast.
5. Sprinkle with garlic powder and chili powder.
6. Pour chicken broth over all of it.
7. Cover and cook on high for 6-8 hours.
8. Take chicken out of the bottom of the crock pot and shred with a fork.
9. Mix chicken back into the beans/corn/salsa/ mixture.
10. Serve with sour cream and tortilla chips and cheese.

I served this the first time by crumbling chips into the bottom of the bowl, pouring soup over, then topping with sour cream and cheese.  Now I let everyone put their own bowls together.  I personally like to sprinkle the broken chips in a`little at a time so they stay crispy as I eat.  John doesn’t use the sour cream or cheese.

I also have to note that I cook this in a 5.5 quart slow cooker and it is “lippin’ full” so you might want to use a larger pot.  Additionally, I always use 3 chicken breasts because we eat this two nights.  It makes a LOT of soup.

And no, Phoebe doesn’t like this.  She loves the chips and salsa I put out though.

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I get sick almost every Halloween

A few days ago, I decided that I was starting to react to the autumnal pollen.  So I did what every reasonable person who is allergic to damn near everything did: I decided that was a good time to sweep the back porch covered in said polleny wonder.

Now I do have to admit that I was having some of MOMS Club friends over for a scrapbook session and the kids would be playing during this.  I knew that letting the kids run on the porch would be something they could do to run off some energy.  We were having nice weather and the kids loved the porch.

Next morning, which happened to be Wednesday, my voice sounded like I’d smoked about 4 packs of cigarettes before 10 am but I still felt ok.  Just a little tired.

By the next day, Thursday, however, I decided that I had seriously screwed up.  My nose was completely blocked and my throat was irritated and again with the raspy voice…

I needed to feel better fast.  Friday was going ot be action packed.  I had a purse party in the morning and John’s work was hosting their annual Halloween party for the kids.

Every year, this place has a seriously awesome party for the employee’s kids and this year, the employees were decorating all of the meeting rooms.  After hearing about the plans that John’s group had, I really wanted to see it.

I ended up missing the morning party much to my chagrin but at least my finances were happy.  I would have spent too much money as I LOVE purses.  But I needed to make an appearance at John’s party with the kids in costume.

I had never dressed up before but always got Phoebe dressed up but then John didn’t usually dress up either. This year, he was dressing up and I didn’t want to be left out.

Things I learned:

1. It is a challenge to get two kids dressed in costume – especially if you are alone when attempting this.
2. It is an even bigger challenge if you plan to costume yourself as well as two young children.
3. Fake blood takes a bloody long time to dry and will get all over EVERYTHING
4. My kids are more freaked out about the wig cap that goes on under the wig than the wig itself.
5. It is difficult to get a 3 year old in a ball gown clipped into a car seat.  The skirt is very fluffy and really gets in the way.
6. People pay no attention to people driving down the road.  They also pay no attention to a lady driving an SUV, covered in blood and seemingly being attacked by birds while driving down the street.
7. The few people who do pay attention will take a picture of you on their phone – while they drive down the road.

So we had a great time at the party and then we stopped at Varsity which has the best burger anywhere and the most fabulous chocolate milk in the world.

When we got home, I immediately went to bed but didn’t stay there.  I had developed a horrible cough and the only way I could sleep was sitting up.  Thank goodness for our recliner.  I slept there for a couple of nights before finally breaking down and going to the doc.

Sinus infection, ear infection and bronchitis.  YAY!  I am an overachiever.

I’m beginning to feel better but the kids have gotten a little bit of it too.  They have a little bit of a cough and are a little stuffy but it seems to be getting better.

That’s how we’re doing, how about you?

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Happy Birthday Daddy

My dad would have been 71 today.  This picture is from 1976.  My dad is the middle with the lady on his lap.  The lady is my great grandmother.  The other man is my uncle Jim.

He would have loved my kids.  The man seriously loved babies.

The most vivid dream I've ever had came about two weeks after he passed away.  I honestly don’t know if it was a dream or if I was meeting him at the Great Starbucks in the sky.

He and I were meeting in a beautiful room with a tall ceiling and a wall completely covered in greenery. One wall was all windows and it looked out over a beautiful lake. 

He sat across from me with a cup of coffee in a simple mug.  I remember crying in the dream.

He asked me why I was crying.  I said that it was because he was gone and I couldn’t talk to him.

He told me that I could talk to him whenever I liked, I just might not get a direct answer.

“Besides,” he said, “you wouldn’t want me back the way I was.  I was so sick.  Think of me like you remember me when you were just a little fart.”

So today, I’m trying to think of my daddy the way he asked in that dream.  I am trying to remember him calling me “little fart” or telling me that we were having “a bait of boiled buttholes” for dinner.

I’m trying to not remember the harsh words spoken between us or the almost violent arguments we would get into.  I’m trying not to remember the ache of not being able to argue with him about religion or politics.

I know that when I tell him I love him today that he will hear me.

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How to make caramel apples

1. Purchase caramel apple kit.
2. Line cookie sheet with wax paper.  Ready plastic wrap to wrap your delicious creations.
3. Follow directions on package to melt caramel.
4. Push sticks into apples.  Nearly lose eye when one stick breaks and splinters fly through air.
5. Pick up apple on a stick.  Apple slips off stick.  Put apple back on stick.  Repeat.  Swear with great creativity. Figure out how to angle apple so it won’t fall off stick.
6. Dip into sauce that is now hotter than molten lava.
   Swear obscenely when stick comes out of apple leaving apple bobbing in viscous goo.  Go find the mother effin’ tongs.
7. Realize you’ve destroyed tongs because you found preschooler using them to mess with "things" in toilet.  Find the salad spoons instead.
8. Use salad spoons to dig apples out of caramel sauce that is now hotter than the sun.  Sauce drips off of salad spoons and onto your pants leaving a blister the size of your hand.  Swear loudly enough that the neighbors think there’s some sort of domestic situation at your house and call police.
9. Repeat process with remaining apples and/or say to “hell with it” and go buy caramel apples at grocery store.
10. Enjoy!

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Stupid Easy BBQ

Today on our meal plan is BBQ sandwiches. 

I recently discovered the delights of pork loin.  I say that I don’t particularly like pork but the truth is that I like pork loin, pork chops and bacon.  I’m not adverse to the occasional ham either. 

I don’t like pork roast though.  In my experience, it’s been a greasy mess and seems heavy.  I’m not sure I’ve ever even had pork loin until recently but my in-laws had it the last time we visited and it was delightful.  That got me looking for my own recipes.

I don’t remember where I came across this one but it’s mot too original.

1. Put the pork loin in the slow cooker.
2. Cover with bbq sauce.
3. Put on lid and cook on low for 6-8 hours.
4. Shred about 30 minutes before serving.

I serve on hamburger buns.  We also use leftovers for topping baked potatoes, pizzas, in salads, whatever. 

This method creates tender, delicious pork and is as the title says: stupid easy.

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October’s Meal planning

I was inspired to share this with all of you this month.  I was reading one of my favorite once a month cooking websites and she shared her own meal plan.  Now granted I’m not cooking tons of this at once but I am doing a little bulk cooking. 

My October Meal Plan

1. Chicken Tacos
2. Breakfast for dinner
3. BBQ Sandwiches
4. Leftover BBQ
5. Homemade Pizza
6. Grilled Chicken Burritos
7. Baked Potatoes with the fixin’s
8. OUT
9. OUT with Family
10. Delivery Pizza
11. Beef Stew Bowls
12. Cornish Pasties
13. Big Salad
14. Chicken Tortilla Soup
15. Chicken Quesadillas
16. Homemade Pizza
17. Hamburgers
18. Hot dogs
19. Turkey and veggies
20. Turkey Turkey Club Sandwiches
21. OUT
22. Burgers
23. Turkey Enchiladas
24. Kielbasa
25. Cranberry Chicken 
26. BBQ Sandwiches
27. Leftover BBQ
28. Veggie Beef Soup
29. Leftover Soup
30. Coca Cola Chicken
31. Turkey Enchiladas

This is a plan.  It doesn’t mean it’s written in stone.  The only things that are absolutely sure things are the items for the first 7 days as I just went grocery shopping and the turkey related items.

I bought the turkey about 6 months ago and he’s been hanging out in my deep freeze.  I think its about time to get him out and cook him up.

What this plan does for me though is help me when I’m trying to figure out what we should have.  This way, I can create my grocery list in advance and then check the sales and act accordingly.

Do you plan this far ahead with your meal planning?

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My Philosophy of Life

I have philosophies or sayings that I generally try to live my life by.

The first comes from a legendary movie.

Go that way. Really fast. If something gets in your way, turn.

The second is incredibly simple.

Don’t be an asshole.

I hear you. “But Amanda, I’m not an asshole".

You might be.  Do you:

• Not pay attention to your surroundings or could care less that you’re in sync with others?
• Live your life in a tremendous hurry despite other people’s needs and wants?
• Routinely back into people either on foot or on wheels (car)?
• Completely disregard the needs of others?

If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, you are an Asshole.

I don’t mean that you have to live your life serving others or constantly allowing others and their needs to be more important than your own.  What I mean is that you are a considerate human being – that you consider the needs and wants of those around you and how you can accomplish your wants and needs without trampling others.

Standing in line at the grocery store with a full buggy and there’s a person behind you with 4 items?  Let them in front of you.  It won’t take but a moment for them to complete their transaction and it will give you a bit more time to unload your buggy.

You are in a quiet restaurant when suddenly your young child decides to melt down?  Do you:

• Yell at your child to quit it? 
• Finish eating your meal and carrying on your conversation?
• Do you walk the child out the door while requesting a doggy bag for the remainder your dinner?

If you answered with anything other than the last option or some variation of it, you are an asshole.

Other people do not want to listen to your squalling child.  Eating out is expensive and after you factor in a babysitter, you’ve spent a small fortune.  This is precisely why many restaurants are in the news lately because they’ve adopted a “no children” policy.  Do they hate kids?  Probably not.  They are customer friendly. 

Practicing basic consideration would make this world a better place to live in.  If we all thought for one instant before we took any action as to how we affect those around us, we would all be a lot happier.

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Broken Wings and Stranger Things

10 days ago, I found myself in the worst place a parent can imagine: the emergency room with an injured child.

It started earlier that evening.  I was cooking dinner, John was holding the baby and Phoebe was The Pink Tornado.  This is a term coined by one of John’s friends regarding her own preschool age child but it fits Phoebe so well that I’ve stolen it.

Like most three year olds, Phoebe is in perpetual motion.  She’s running here, scampering there, dancing around and jumping up and down.  She’s also moody and can be crying one moment and laughing the next.  She trips over her own feet and more often than not says “I’m ok!” before I can even ask.

She also has the annoying interesting habit of running off to hide when she’s upset or hurt.  Which is what she did after she flipped over a wheeled office chair I keep in the kitchen.  She hit the floor quite hard but I was mostly concerned with her noggin.  Not feeling any kind of knot on her head, I decided to let her finish processing the incident and let her hide behind a chair in the living room.

After about 10 minutes, she’s still crying and it’s not quite like anything I’ve heard from her before.  There was an urgency to it.  John finally got her out from behind the chair and I gave her what I thought was a pretty thorough inspection.  I checked her arms, her head, her back.. I saw no redness, no swelling, no bruising. 

She stopped crying but there was definitely something wrong.  I thought maybe she’d bruised something that just hadn’t shown up yet.  I gave her some Tylenol and then she wanted up in my lap.  That’s when I figured out something was wrong with her arm.  I had looked at her arm; had bent the elbow, but didn’t see anything wrong and she didn’t react to me bending the elbow.  As I picked her up, I put my hands under her arms to lift her up and that’s when she screamed and I now understood what the crying meant.  She was in real pain and there was something going on beyond preschooler drama.  There was definitely something wrong but I wasn’t sure whether it was her arm, her shoulder or maybe even a broken rib.

I made the decision right there to take her to the emergency room.  Atlanta is blessed to have a great children’s hospital system that consists of three hospitals, numerous urgent care center, etc.  I took Phoebe to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta at Hughes Spalding.

This hospital is near Grady Hospital in downtown Atlanta.  The location isn’t too great, but the parking lot is secure and brightly lit at 10:30 at night.  They validated my parking and we were in and out in just under two hours.

The nurse we worked with immediately saw the swelling on her chest.  I hadn’t seen it, wasn’t looking for it.  But it was there and turning red.  An x-ray showed that Phoebe had a broken collar bone.

Next day, an orthopedic explained to me that the collar bone, or clavicle, is the most broken bone in the human body and is very thin in children.  But she also told me that children are amazing healers.  Within a month, the bone will reconnect and within about 8-10 weeks, the healing will be mostly complete.  Additionally, in children this young, within about a year, the bone will actually remodel itself to return to it’s normal shape and it will be almost impossible to tell that it was ever broken.

So my daughter is part Time Lord.

Meanwhile, I’ve got to keep her from reinjuring it.  Remember she is the Pink Tornado.  So no jumping, no playgrounds, no climbing, no nothing that will keep it from mending properly.  Her grandparents overnighted a cool wooden “paper” doll set that she loves and is helping to keep her entertained.

The hospital put her in a weird brace that held her shoulders back.  The orthopedic first put her in a standard arm sling with a waist strap to keep the arm immobile.  After our second visit, another practitioner suggested a shoulder immobilizing brace that is actually working a lot better.

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Tales of a Wannabe Domestic Goddess

Long before I had children and even before I was married, I said that the only thing domestic about me was that I lived in a house.  I hate housework and don't understand those souls who seem to derive so much pleasure from scrubbing toilets and washing baseboards.  So it surprised everyone including me and my husband when I became a stay at home mom.  Visions of June Cleaver, Carol Brady and Ma Ingalls filled my head - could I vacuum wearing pearls?

No, I'm closer to Morticia Adams than to any of them.  And this realization made me understand that I am seriously uneducated in the methods of home economics.

I'm not saying that I didn't know how to clean.  Everyone can take a rag and a bottle of cleaner and clean like crazy, but I was completely unprepared for the daily routines and just general busy-ness needed to maintain a home.

My mother worked at least part-time for a lot of my childhood so I don't remember her as housewife. And as I’ve mentioned before, she also hated cleaning and housework with her involved the whole family pitching in to get the house in order before holidays or before company came over.  I am a champion of crisis cleaning and can stuff more junk into closets and under beds than you can possibly imagine.

After I married, both John and I worked full time outside the home.  We'd tackle the housework in the same way that my mom did: long marathons just before company or when the kitchen was threatened with closure by the local sanitation department.  I tell the absolute truth when I admit to drinking milk out of a vase because we didn't have any clean glasses.

Once I became a full time mommy, I had to learn to do all those things.  I'm still learning.  My house is mostly clean and on it's way to being completely decluttered.  I have cleaning routines and I rarely crisis clean.  I still have a long way to go but feel like it's not overwhelming.

But for the record, we still call it "excavating" the kitchen.

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school age nightmare

I was a bright kid.

In the first grade, I read on a 4th to early 5th grade level.  Instead of being challenged to read more and learn more, my teacher decided that I was a problem and separated me from other children.

In the second grade, I had a teacher who was more understanding of my reading prowess.  However, when I refused to count to 100 - I got bored with the task at around 50 - she decided that I was bad at math and needed to be put into remedial math which only bored me more than counting to 100 did.

My third grade teacher also saw me as a problem.  I was 4 grades ahead of the other kids in the class in reading.  She decided to send me to another class for half of each day for "enrichment" while maintaining that I had to complete all the work from her class too.  I was 8.  I got home from school, took a 30 minute break to tell my mother about my stressed out day and then got to work on 2-1/2 hours of homework.  After 2 months, I was mentally exhausted and told my mother that I "just wanted to be stupid like everyone else".

In fourth grade, I started getting bullied.  I had a great teacher that year but she seemed to have a blind eye for the boys in the class.  We were assigned seats in lunch and I was put next to a guy who delighted in telling me how he was going to rape and torture me every day.  I was in a reading class with two other students which was great because I got the challenge that I needed but it also meant that other students in the class called me teachers pet and teased me constantly.

Fifth grade was a comedy of horrors.  During this year, I was held down by two boys who each felt me up.  I also had two girls hold me down while a third girl hit me repeatedly.  None of these kids got in trouble for their actions.  Instead, I was told to be more careful.

My parents did not believe in designer clothing for young girls and this was when designer jeans were really first in fashion.  I so wanted that stupid swan on my butt.  So during fifth grade, all my differences were pointed out repeatedly by girls who made fun of my hair and lack of designer jeans.

So as you can see, much of what I learned in elementary school was not about the wonder of this planet or about humans at  their best, but about teachers who had no idea how to deal with me, or who wanted to dumb me down to the level of the other students.  I learned that being stupid was preferable to intelligence.  I learned that I wasn't allowed to say no even when I was being violated. 

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