the things that amuse my husband never cease to amaze me!

Real Conversations @ The Haus

Herb: The NHL final game is on tonight. Can you make those fried buffalo yummy things!?!?!?
What were we calling those things?
Cara: I'm not sure.
Herb: Let's call them Stan.
Cara: I think we called them Buffalo Chicken Burritos.
Herb: Ummmm, STANLEY!!!

recipe for Stanley

***Disclaimer: I don't always cook with recipes. I make this one by intuition and actually have NO idea how much of each indgrediant you need. These are guesses.

2-3 large chicken breasts
6-8 low carb tortillas
1 8oz block cream cheese
1 cup mozzarella or Cheddar cheese
Frank's Hot Sauce - 'till it feels good! (i probably use 1/3 - 1/2 cup)
canola oil for fyin' (you can also spray with cooking spray and bake)
chunky blue cheese dressing for dippin'

boil chicken breasts, chop or shred up real good.
mix in bowl with cheeses and hot sauce.
scoop into tortillas and wrap tightly (no open ends)
fry in a pan until cheese is gooey and tortillas are cripy brown.

(green onions might also be tasty inside of Stanley. i might try that tonight. insert pat on back here.)

Awkward

Conforming to social norms has never been my expertise. When I was little the implications were twofold: 1) i felt like an adult stuck in a little person's body. 2) i didn't always have very many friends. Since them, I have mostly been proud of this; exploiting it as a means to make myself feel cooler than other people. For the most part, I have been able stream this quality into charming and cooky expressions like wearing a tiara to the grocery store or making silly movies in which the cathartic moment consists of a high speed chase on sleds down a snowy hill.

And at other times, my lack of conformity seems to be involuntary. In college, my roommate Sarah periodically had to play Fashion Police for the protection of my social life . . . and really for the good of everyone around me. More than once, she saved me from walking out of the house in "outfits" like a linen jumper, wool sweater from South America, and hiking boots with tights. The weirdness just flows - I have been known to moon sweet innocent girls from the south, just because I thrive on their response. It is kind of mean, really. It's not their fault. But I just suck every opportunity from these kinds of situations. And for the most part, I have been able to write these incidents off as being a quirky, free-spirited young gal.

But as I grow older, I am becoming more and more socially awkward. I do things like pick fights with children who are disrupting me in public places. Seriously. Who does that? A few days ago I told a friend that I looked into a beer of the month subscription for his wedding but that is was too expensive. Last week we were out dancing and I recognized the dance instructor. We had never officially met, but I knew him from my former swing dancing days. I also knew that he and his wife walk a lot at the park near my house. So what did I say while we were sharing a dance but, "Are you a chronic walker at Washington Park? I see you there all the time!" Chronic walker????? Hello stalker! He scurried off as soon as the music ended. I felt it was gracious of him to wait that long.

Just last night I met two seminary students for the first time and without any context or time spent getting to know them, I told them that "if you ever want to make-out or get laid, come to our house - 1 out of 3 people get some action while hanging out in our basement!" . . . herb just turned to me and said, "you just LOVE trying to make people feel uncomfortable, don't you!!?!?"

"yes. yes i do."