My Mission Statement

I write to serve, to unite, to educate. I write to share literature and flesh out ideas that may be of interest to others. I write to document an emotion, experience, or a blip in time. My mission is to write in such a way that the reader is reminded that we can find humor in all situations. It's one of the great blessings of life.


Sunday, January 27, 2008

A Hot Dish Blog-Lots of topics with Tater Tots on top

I confess, I'm feeling pretty badly about now. Kind of. Well, let me back up. I had a little selfish tantrum this morning. With four kids and an additional two spending the night, I woke up to a trashed house. No, the kids didn't stay up later than me, I just get night blindness, you know? Where you're so tired you just say,"Oh, the kitchen is CLEAN ENOUGH, the living room is PICKED UP ENOUGH, which basically means there's no throw-up or recently spilled Coke anywhere. Anyway, then the next morning, you're completely SHOCKED that the house is such a wreck. I really don't understand the psychology of the whole thing, but I'm telling you it happens to me. So anyway, I'm a little aggravated to start my DAY OF REST with the house such a wreck, plus getting six kids ready for church, and so on. So I tell my husband,"I think I'm going to run away." (which I've never said before, this isn't like a regular line I use, btw) And I mean it. I know it's juvenile, but I'm already mentally packing the car. Of course, it wouldn't help anything. We all know I'd return eventually (after joining a band and learning to smoke and drink heavily)and the house would just be WORSE. Anyway, I got to church, had a little time to think and realized I was acting like a spoiled brat. BUT my DH took my little boy home after Sunday School (long story that involves coughing) and I stayed with other kids (one of them was crucifer today-another day I'll go into the humor of THAT). So when I finally got home, my DH had been cleaning and picking up the study. It was beautiful. Now he doesn't know that he has now positively reinforced my negative behavior, but we won't go there now. Oh, and he also moved a very large, very heavy piece of furniture I've been wanting him to move. So I felt kind of bad for being a big brat. But glad he helped out some today.

And I have another confession to make. I'm now TOTALLY INTO hot dishes. For those of you not from the midwest (like myself), I think the best way to explain a hot dish is just dump a bunch of stuff into a pan, top it with cheese and tater tots, and bake at 350. Now I am a cook. I really love to cook and try new things but I usually draw the line at recipes that 1. contain sliced American cheese 2. involve topping with tater tots, and 3. say things like, "it doesn't really matter WHICH campbell's cream soup, any one of them will do. Hmmmm....But after our return from Minnesota, my husband was feeling a little homesick for his home state, and I'd gotten a few recipes from his Aunt Sarah. I've since made four of them. One even involved sauerkraut as an ingredient. Yes, it's true. But I confess, I was picky about WHICH Campbell's cream soup AND I never used sliced American cheese on top. But the tater tots were awesome. Truly. I love to have dinner parties. Maybe I'll have a hot dish night and make the invitation contain little response cards that say, "You betcha."

So I'm walking a little taller now, knowing that an editor holds my manuscript in her hot little hand. If she doesn't ask for more, I hope it takes her forever to reject it. I want to perpetuate the whole ignorance is bliss state. Has some wise psychiatrist ever written about the Ostrich Syndrome. I have it about my children, too. See, I think they're all brilliant. And beautiful. I feel sorry for other people and their sub-par children. Except my closest friends, of course.

Okay, well maybe it's just part of my campaign to be more grateful. So today, I'm trying to list things I'm grateful for and into my mind pops this little gas station by my house, an Exxon, that has a drink machine with the COLDEST DIET COKES. I'm not kidding. IT's the coldest drink you can get but not frozen. I just love it. So I went a bought one, I'm drinking it right now, and I'm grateful. You betcha.
And my sweet husband helping me today, I'm grateful. And way tired kids from sleepovers (because I plan to put them to bed VERY EARLY), I'm grateful. And the EYC fundraiser tonight where we bought subs and I'm not cooking, I'm grateful. For a clean study, I'm grateful. For someone reading my first three chapters, I'm grateful. For knowing how to spell grateful, I'm grateful, because so many people write greatful and that just gets on my last nerve. It's right up there with saying you're 'done' instead of 'finished'. AAAAAArrggghhh OH, but I'm grateful for language and people being able to speak at all. How'm I doing?

Oh, well, better run. Hope you've enjoyed this blog about NOTHING. Maybe I'll make the big bucks one day like Seinfeld did on his show about NOTHING. I'm sure it's just the same. ha ha ha ha ha ha ha At least I crack MYSELF up.

4 comments:

Dorothy said...

Donna, what a fantastic blog. You've outdone yourself, now are you done? You sound like Garrison Keilor about the hot dishes. You betcha. I'm up in the middle of the night because of a bad dream and thought I'd check and see if you had tomorrow's blog in yet. What a laugh. Thanks, you betcha.
I'm so greatfull I gotcha to send out lovely messages like this. Nothing was really something. You betcha.

Donna Jones Koppelman said...

I'm so sorry you had a bad dream. I had one last night, too. Loved the message you done, you betcha.

Amazonmom said...

Okay I am from the Midwest and have never heard of a "hot dish" ever. Now I have to do a poll of my neighbors to find out if they know about these things.

Amazonmom said...

I wiki'd Hotdish and found out the name is native to Minnesota N & S Dakota--However we make the same thing in Indiana and just call it Tater Tot casserole. I feel so much better now. I thought I had missed something all these years.

Now who knows what a horsehoe sandwich is? Besides a heart attack on a plate.

Isabel by Donna Jones Koppelman

Isabel by Donna Jones Koppelman

Major Bear at the Grove Park Inn by Donna Jones Koppelman

Major Bear at the Grove Park Inn by Donna Jones Koppelman