Meerkat Monday and March Madness Finale

04-05-10

Returning to work after a three-day weekend.
Opening Day -- Astros.
NCAA basketball championship game.

Fail...
Unpromising...
A blow-out Duke victory? Perhaps, but exciting?

What I have to offer you on top of this trifecta of weak sauce is your weekly meerkat update. I pictured you, faithful followers, staying up to your latest imagined minute last night while soaking in a hot tub of Sunday blues and refusing to sleep so you would not have to wake up for another Monday and another week of work, and worry not, I took comfort in the knowledge of your hearts resting in realization that yes, tomorrow might be Monday, but Mondays mean Meerkats.

Here's what we've been up to lately.

Wednesday brought slight devastation to the CC household. Turns out, the beta "FISH," further renamed Gerard, had returned to the ocean in the sky. It was a good year and a half, but alas, I came home and there he was, not "belly up" as everyone says, but lying sideways on the bottom of the bowl. At school Thursday I told the students who brought him to the class last year I had bad news and then grabbed my camera to show them. Their response, "You took a picture of it????" Little do they know, Meerkat Monday readers want the whole truth!



For some reason all of the Mkats were in hiding on Thursday. Perhaps they were grieving. I did manage some excellent food porn after trying my hand at Soba Noodles with Asparagus and Scallops. After chasing some down miso paste and never finding mirin, I decided this dish makes better food porn than good eats. The ginger, of which I am normally a fan, made it too sweet for me. Next time I'll try this. Savory is more my style. Soba noodles themselves are nothing short of a win though!

Friday's theme (outside of the whole observance of Good Friday) was "In Defense of Yard Art." While I sat outside (little did I realize burning) in my preggers tank top and shorts reading Middlesex, the Mkats found themselves where they were truly intended to reside--a garden. Now what you are about to see is not just any garden; it's a make-shift home to the fine collection of yard art of which we are the owners thanks to ALL of the parental units. When I have out Little Cajun Cowboy/girl in my arms and am looking out of the breakfast room window I will have the pleasure to say, "One day, this will all be yours." What a heritage to hand down.

Yes, the yard art trumps any plant or flowers currently in this bed. Well, the following flowers do look pretty, but they are tiny. No match for a giant boot!


Al met some new friends while he was out there. Too bad he's the runt of the bunch. I guess that's why he's the only one that's come back inside since that day. Is that a maternal instinct kicking in? Nah, I just couldn't find the sticks that screw into his feet to keep him in the ground!
Plus, somebody has to be involved in upcoming pictures. (Momma Mkat's probably completely miffed that she's having to stay out at night. It " does horrors to her coat", she'll claim.) Wuss.


Saturday "Katurday"

Maybe this LOL cat caught wind of being stuck in a bed full of yard art. Hell, I'd rather be a zombie too. At least if you are "under" the earth during the day, you don't feel the Houston sun and you get to break through the dirt at night to come out and freak out any humans you might find annoying. Worth a thought.


With Easter fast approaching, it was time to dye eggs, and what an egg-dyeing disaster it was! Talk about a crafty FAIL. While last year, CC was baking away, this year the Kats and I would keep it simple. I've dyed eggs my entire life, and never has this happened. Everything looks normal below:


Everything BUT....why are the names written in black? And why are there so many bubbles? Everyone knows you use a wax crayon, yet in the CC household, there was not one to be found, a predicament we found ourselves in last year as well but borrowed one from a neighborhood kid. This year's conversation:

Me: Hey, honey, will you go walk down to ------ and borrow a crayon.
Husband: Sure, let me see if they are outside. Or you could use a Sharpie. It's what my mom always did at my house.
Me: A Sharpie?
Husband: Yea. Well, they aren't outside. I'll go down in a bit.
Me: Don't worry about it. I'll just use the Sharpie.
Husband: You sure?
Me: Yes

So as you can see, I am in NO WAY blaming this egg-dyeing (or egg-dying I should say) disaster on the Cajun Cowboy. I should have simply asked for better instructions about said Sharpie usage.



Everyone looks happy right? Eggs are soaking in color, and I've so far kept the dye off anything it could stain. They were bubbling quite a bit. "Is that normal," I asked myself. After checking on a couple eggs, I realized the dye was creating a film that could be rubbed off with a paper towel and while wiping, I smeared the Sharpie as well. What takes off Sharpie? Apparently vinegar.

Husband: You are supposed to write the names on AFTER you dye the eggs.
Me: Nice.

So there you have it--way too much information about my egg-dyeing experience this year. Blame it on the Sharpie or the fact that I got my Paas Easter Egg Dyeing Kit from the Dollar Store (I'm not hating Dollar General; it's all love baby!), but next year I've got to remedy this. Come on--three-year-olds can dye eggs!

At least our neighbors baked us some yummy goodies. Good thing--it's all the bunny would bring!


After watching the Sparties sink themselves out of a national championship after losing their Final Four game, I was ready to move onto Sunday.

We were rooting for your boys, Sparties, and knew a "dash" of salt would have pepped 'em up!



Sunday Funday
What do I know about Easter Sunday? You wake up and hit the showers to make sure to get to church extra early because EVERYONE goes to church on Easter Sunday, but before leaving, you take a quick peak at and quick bite out of The Basket. Yes, you might have a boiled, dyed egg with your name on it for breakfast, or you might skip the nutrition altogether and go for the m&ms.

Well, while you think nothing might scream EASTER like a pretty basket filled with fake grass that somehow manages to litter your house until Christmas and sweet treats, give a moment of consider to the image below:



Poor Al. It's all he knows. After all, it's all that I managed this Easter. No pretty baskets, no Easter decorations, no goodies or sweet treats. Just a bunch of shoddily dyed eggs with smeared Sharpie names in a Styrofoam bowl. Nice, Cowgirl, nice.
At least I won't be picking up that fake grass for months. There's always next year....

We did manage to capture some of the Easter spirit taking pictures, as requested, by the hostess of an upcoming baby shower. Thanks to a talented husband, he captured not only the photos we'd need for the party, but some to make me feel like a beauty as well. Here are a few of my favorites.



March Madness -- Duke and Butler tied at 9:15 in the first. Maybe this won't be such a blowout after all. Be sure to check back later this week for what I've taken from March Madness this year.

Not So Kid Friendly

So I never signed any statement agreeing to keeping this blog G-rated, and Cajun Cowbaby is still in the belly with plenty of padding to serve as baby-muffs for now. Hence the following link for the tried and true LOST fans to prep for another gripping episode of the show's final run.

My students asked the other day (those 2 that actually might still watch it, and they're twins!), "Are you a Jack and Kate fan or a Sawyer and Kate fan?" which of course translates into a "Who do you think it hotter?" question. With no hesitation I replied that their question (twins right?) is a no-brainer -- the answer's Sawyer and Kate.

Just as the answer to who's your favorite of the Charles Darnay/Sydney Carton doppelganger in Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities requires no debate -- Sydney Carton.

When I imagine both Sawyer and Carton living in my world (no, not the one with the meerkats, the normal one, where I see television and novel characters as real people with whom I'd interact), I see them as Southerners, and what's so important about that? Southern men have a certain grit about them. They aren't perfect. Yes, I realize neither Jack nor Charles Darnay are glowing men of perfection, but their life struggles aren't as seemingly charming. One doesn't imagine a "yes ma'am" coming from a dimpled smile after our imagined Southern gents allow their grit to get the best of them. Maybe a Darwin argument? Could it be their rugged imperfection that lets their "mate" or wife, girlfriend, ok, or just crushing fan, know that this man would spend his entire life wrecking shop on those who tried to get to you or get in the way of your love, thus increasing chances of survival?

Is this discussion at all a little strange? Yes. But who hasn't had similar conversations before about the entertaining, yet completely unreal characters in our lives?

All this from a clip of some of Sawyer's best moments. Again, I never said I'd keep these musings clean.

5 Items -- Enough Already!

1. Mosquitoes -- They aren't here yet for the summer, but they're coming. They always come.

2. The peelings of onions and garlic. Really, paper that ends up all over my kitchen? Really?

3. The sticky goop from Band-aids that stays on your body after removing said bandage.

4. Credit card offers -- Am I not on some list to avoid receiving these?

5. Post office lines

Meerkat Monday

We spent a great weekend watching a little March Madness and visiting with our favorite Michigan friends, those of the "Pinch of Salt" variety. Monday was back to school, but come Tuesday, "You've got mail!" That's right, ladies and gents--a package! I love receiving packages; it doesn't matter what's inside (hopefully a new outfit I ordered or a "happy" from a friend).

No meerkats were steamed, boiled, burned, cooked, or harmed in any manner during this shoot.

By Tuesday I was ready to hit the kitchen, and this week's dishes, although I lack my own food porn to prove it, turned out to be winners. I went with Spinach Bacon Penne Pasta (substituting whole wheat pasta for a healthy kick) and Tilapia with Tomatoes and Onions and a side of steamed broccoli with cheese. The next time we give these two a whirl, I'll have to make sure the lighting is good and ready and the dishes are ready for their close up.

When I came home Wednesday I noticed the paper towel holder was unfolded enough to display its cheesy message "Home Sweet Home." It's the little things that should catch our eye and remind us of what's important in life and how blessed we truly are. Momma Mkat thought so too.

Thursday I actually decided to randomly and quickly make my bed before leaving for work. Al must somehow have some of Cajun Cowboy's blood. He loved that everything was in its place (sort of). I really could do it every day. Maybe I'll make it a goal today. Let's see what tomorrow morning brings.

On Friday our favorite fiery Cajun friend from
LA came to visit. Al accompanied us to dinner at Beaver's where the waitress did not find it weird that we were taking pictures with an inanimate object but told us the fact that it was a meerkat was strange. We weren't offended. Not everyone's ready for a meerkat integration.
Al was simply happy nom-nomming on some fried pickles and cider (courtesy of Shelly). He was simply happy the place was called Beaver's and not Meerkat's.


On Saturday we attended the Bayou City Arts Festival at Memorial Park and browsed through paintings, photographs, sculptures, and various other original pieces that we could never afford. Al took this picture as warning to his cousins in LA. He's worried about their "living on the edge" while literally living on the edge of RJ's pond.


Sunday was so nice out that we decided to once again hit the grill. Cajun Cowboy pumped out some Spicy Chicken Thighs courtesy of The Kitchn, and we did indeed eat them with a side of Ruffles potato chips; however we "healthified" them with a spinach salad. It's all about balance right?

Follow the recipe on the link above but here are the easy steps. First, blend your marinade:

Next, after hitting chicken thighs with salt and pepper, coat chicken thighs with marinade:
Finally, serve with "balanced" sides:



Shelly left Sunday but left us with the classic Easter Bunny picture with my Godchild. What a cutie! When I came home Monday, though, Momma Mkat was ready to start a movement. There's the Easter Bunny, Santa Clause, and the Tooth Fairy. Where's a holiday starring meerkats? What's a meerkat gotta do to get somewhere in this world?!?!



She got me thinking and perhaps the Bayou City Art Festival inspired me. What if I start a collection of meerkat prints? I see fame coming my way! I call this first shot--Meerkat on a Bed of Carrots. At full value, it would be $2300.00, but since it's a work in progress (perhaps the lighting needs a bit of adjusting and the focus more clearly set), I will sell it to you for a discounted price. Leave your name and number under comments.

(Actually, these are for carrot soup courtesy of Tales from Chenoland. Check it out!)

Meerkat Monday and Goodnight March Madness

Dear Spring Break,

You had me at hello.

Love,
Loupe Family Meerkats


Here's how they enjoyed:

Wednesday brought back the World Wide Web, St. Patrick's Day accompanied by my first attempt at  cooking Irish, and the perfect opportunity to use a couple of my birthday gifts.  Al helped me blend up a pineapple-banana smoothie in the magic bullet courtesy of Mom. Clean-up really is a breeze with this thing.






I spent the rest of the morning being pampered and spoiled rotten at the spa. Husbands take note; if this isn't on your list of gifts to give in the near future, strongly consider adding it. If you've used it recently, don't hesitate to give again. Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" entertained itself in my head for the rest of the day.


And here it is Ladies and Gentlemen: March Madness. My discussion of this annual get-my-hopes-up-that-I-actually-might-guess-correctly bracket will be short. The bracket starts here on Thursday. Note Kansas as National Champs.

Ah, and little R&R. After watching much basketball and still hanging in with his bracket,  Al loves Spring Break and chilling on the less than 1' X 1' completed square of a rug I'm making for the nursery.  Camera is not zoomed out for a reason, but there will surely be a crafty post in the near future after completion within which I'll explain the process.

Let's go Ladies--no pain, no gain. Momma Mkat got me pumped up for the gym.

Oh Sunday blues. The bracket ends here Saturday night and the devastation erupts Sunday morning.
Al was covered in fail grief.

Monday morning and the work key chain becomes once again attached to my personal set of keys. Is it summer yet?

Ohhhhhhh
Back To School
Back To School
To Prove To Dad That I'm Not A Fool
I've Got My, Luch Packed Up
My Boots Tied Tight
I Hope I Don't Get In A Fight
Ohhhh
Back To School
Back To School
Back To School

March into Madness

Bracket-ology: When you aren't playing for money, but playing nonetheless...
10 Things to Love about March Madness

1. Conversations starting, "How's your bracket?" instead of the banal "Hey, what's up?"

2. You don't have to have extensive basketball knowledge to play. Anyone can play; in fact, anyone can win. While many sports gurus boast the hours they spent analyzing three point shooting, turnovers, and forcing turnovers or walking the fine line between choosing safe picks and sexy upsets, it's just that: a tourney of upsets. So picking based on your feelings about the team mascot or perhaps based on favorite colors or even which uniforms don't wash out their players (that's for you Georgetown, oh, and thanks for that loss), you have a shot.

*Note, I've never won a pool I entered, not even come close. Maybe some of that analysis actually helps.

3. Feeling the need to create your own March Madness soundtrack with a song like "Forever" to capture clips of buzzer beaters, a bench on their feet, and fist pumping athletes striding down the court after dunking on some foolish defender or nailing a well-arced three pointer "straight netted" style. (March Madness releases an inner announcer allowing one to create such phrases.)

4. College bands playing Muse's "Resistance."

5. Fun facts like this one, one to keep in mind for my future basketball superstar son.

6. Being introduced to "the Gusser." Ladies, I'm told if if Gus Johnson is announcing the game you are watching, you know you are in for some excitement if it gets close. Take a preview here.

7. Having enough sports talk to avoid constant hen house chatter about Tim Tebow's new and improved throwing motion.

8. Buzzer beaters. Whether they wreck your bracket world or bring you one step closer to the ever-evasive bracket perfection, you can't ignore their glory. ESPN's Stories of Joy:



9. Unsuspecting sports fan females coming out of their shells. Who knew queso-lovin', Apple-bashing', fall weekends aren't meant to watch football games friend Julia was all about some M. Madness?

10. CBS between game segments such as one detailing Kentucky's trip to the dance with a quartet of dynamic freshmen touting nicknames like "Crank the Mustard," " Jive Buggin" "Boogie" and "Two-Step" (a segment that, according to my sports analyst husband, is simply "bad joo-joo" and gives him utmost confidence in his picking of Wisconsin to beat them in the third round) and introducing the weekend sports fan such as myself to the John Wall Dance. While they may now be jinxed and have no one but CBS to thank, who can't help but want to hang out with these guys?




Bonus (Like overtime is "free basketball" right?)--Who doesn't love an extra dose of sports hyperbole. This tournament has "the most ever!"

Meerkat Mon--err--Wednesday

While I see Project 365 as a form of daily journaling, I'm going to have to do something a little different in terms of organizing and labeling my meer-shots. I can't seem to remember sometimes which pictures accompanies which day of the week. Plus, I think this week I forgot a day (or maybe two). Ooopps.

Tuesday night Darius Rucker rocked (as best he could) this "easy listening" crowd, and although the meer-fam couldn't attend, we brought home pictures and a small video from the show. Unfortunately, the fried Oreos did not make it to a to-go box.

Our photo efforts were nothing, though, compared to the flashy cowgirl in front of us with her stalker-esque, professional grade camera shooting no less than 300 shots throughout the hour long concert. What one does with Hootie up close and personal, I'll never know.

Don't worry about the mkats, my friends. While I couldn't wear my beloved cowboy boots as they didn't seem to work with any of my maternity jeans, the meerkats sure could. I came home to find this sight:

Looks like they had some rodeo action of their own!

On Wednesday I finally changed our beta Gerard's water. while Momma Mkat watched attentively a' la Life of Pi as the meerkats surround the pond of dead fish. Poor G--he's been holding on since last Spring semester when some students brought him to our classroom. Now he's the son to my husband who calls himself Gerard's "single-father," yet secretly hopes he dies. Oh the horror! Say it ain't so!

If Momma Mkat has anything to do with it, the fish won't live to the ripe old age of 2. Heck, he's a beta; he might not live that long anyway.

When you feel the need to bake, grab it by rolling pin and by all means, make some scones!

Al made quite the mess, but it was nothing that a few squirts of 409 Granite Counter Cleaner (my favorite but so hard to find!) and a nice wiping down couldn't cure. The kitchen was back to a state or normalcy in no time.

Friday's temperature? Looks like Spring! Sometimes I wonder if my husband is plotting with the meerkats to put KPRC Channel 2 Houston weather out of a job. Below Momma Mkat admires our latest bathroom gadget that tells not only the time, my friends, but weather both inside and outside the house. Not enough for you? How about the phases of the moon? Beat that Super Doppler 2000 and late!

Saturday brought Spring-y goodness and a chance to show off another weather station must-have, the weather stick. High-tech as it is, one must be trained in reading and analyzing its output, but I will give you a quick lesson. Stick is up, it'll be a beautiful day. Stick down, look for rain and humidity. It's complicated but with enough practice, you too can be a skilled weather stick reader.

Cowboy picked up the crib and dresser; we shredded over 3 garbage bags full of documents; and I shuffled bins of storage items from room to closet to closet to make room for Little Loupe. Some call it nesting. I call it part of my ongoing Project De-clutter, a lifelong pursuit.

The weather was great to open the windows (see stick curvature below) and after a day full of Spring cleaning, we welcomed outdoor cooking season with grilled pork burgers.

Sunday's picture escapes me, probably due to the Internet outage that continued to Monday and the picture below. Not that one needs the world wide web to capture life's greatest moments in the eyes of meerkats, but I was distracted anyhow. As noted, Monday left me with no Internet and no way to share the meerkat week with my slim audience of followers. I thought the mkats would be inconsolable and devastated in their grief, but boy was I wrong. With a gorgeous day, we instead finished reading The Postmistress while tanning outside and yummed it up with a copycat Panera Bread Fuji Apple Chicken Salad for supper.

*Note--I do not participate in the activities listed in this blog with the meerkats. That would be weird. Instead I simply talk about them that way. Thanks, The Management

When Poppa Mkat's away, the kids will play! Poppa Meerkat is at school watching over the classroom while we're on Spring Break. Al managed to covertly find his way into icebox to see what my husband would do when he came home and found him. He's been watching too many ninja videos.

Anticlimactic it turns out--nothing. No comment. No shock value. Not even making fun of me for my meerkat weirdness. Nothing.

But, hey, check out that healthy looking stock!

Even Cowgirls Have Babies

It's Houston Livestock and Rodeo Season, and Tuesday, March 9, 2010, Darius Rucker would be the post bull-riding, steer roping, barrel-racing entertainment.

Tickets in hand, good friends by my side, an appetite primed for Houston BBQ, and boots on my....

Wait a second, no boots on my feet! You want me to rodeo with no boots?!? That's mainly why this Cajun bought the darn things in the first place.

Turns out that maternity jeans (at least the ones I currently rock) aren't designed for boot scootin' boogieing in my best (and only) $h!t kickers. Next time I'm preggers and it's rodeo time, I vow to check into Cowpoke Maternity. (Isn't the name alone great?) Quickly overlook the blouses section to avoid fashion fright, but check out the jeans and tees. Now preggers can embrace the rodeo in style. Notice, I'm not all about finding some Wrangler jeans and button downs to tuck in and show off one's finest belt buckle. Actually, Wrangler doesn't even make maternity jeans, a fact I found shocking at first, but then again, their look relies heavily on tucking something in, and anyone who's had a protruding basketball shaped pregnancy belly knows that this just won't work.

I just wanted cute clothing so I'd have the chance to wear my boots. Here's baby's first rodeo. In the future, s/he may have a brother/sister in the works and a styling boot-wearin' cowgirl mamma!

Meerkat Monday

Embarking on this meerkat adventure has led me to the conclusion that taking just one picture to capture and represent each day simply isn't enough. Luckily, I get to "make up" for a few days last week since I actually began the meerkat adventure midweek. Just a warning, future Meerkat Mondays may or may not include more than one picture per day. I'm just saying....


Albert's (Al's) HCHS adventures came to a close last week when I decided I'd bring Poppa mkat up to school to A) inherit a name and B) see the place where and people with which his son has been hanging out recently. Al posed for a quick shot with the classroom's other "stuffed" friends before leaving. He was becoming quite attached to Shakespeare, and I've heard since walking around working on his lady moves, quoting, "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night." Oh, young meerkat love. *sigh*



Thursday evening began with some baking, and before leaving for HCHS on Friday, Poppa mkat helped prepare Dark Chocolate Chip Scones. He's not much of a baker but mostly sticks around to lick the bowl and taste for "quality control."
I warned him of the dangers of animals and chocolate. He turned out ok nevertheless. He poses below with the groceries I bought at the store before arriving home. Hopefully the pregnant belly gave it away, but if not, the poor check-out boy must have been thinking, "Time of the month much?"


We made quite the mess, but by the time the scones were ready to come out of the oven (mistakenly sans salt!) the kitchen was pristine.

It's finally here! No, not Spring and the end of the brutal Houston winter (yes, it happened; check out Chenoland) we suffered this year, but crawfish season, my friends. Al's dazed look of realization that he actually gets to partake in such culinary joy not only mirrors that of his owners but also foreshadows the stupor he was in once he was done eating. Yum.


My personal Saturday and Sunday activities are best summed up by the following image:


Why might a meerkat pose in front of this blue square? Funny you should ask. Last summer I painted several rooms in the house, and in professional decorator fashion, painted a splotch on the wall to "test" the color in various lights. Yes, in my head I truly thought I'd see something profound in the small office within which the wall resides. Yes, in my head I thought I might change my mind on the color and choose another just a "frog's skin" different in shade. Who was I kidding? Myself.

Months later and a blue square on the wall keeping me from both using the office and opening the blinds in the front of the house, thus avoiding embarrassment, Al and I decided to tackle this project, and two days, a gallon of paint, and a couple rolls of painter's tape later, it's done! The family will pose once the furniture is all back in place.


While I was up and down a ladder (yes, Shelly, I was careful!), Momma mkat worked with Cajun Cowboy to prepare for the P.E. "Wait a second," you're thinking. "That doesn't look like a game of four-square, and why's he wearing an engineer's uniform and not awkwardly short gym shorts?" Cajun Cowboy is taking the Professional Engineer's test next month, and unfortunately for him, that means studying. Luckily, Momma mkat knows a great deal about the cut and sum method to find forces in a truss; however, once stuck, she did have to look back in confusion and say, "I don't know. You're the engineer, bro (pronounced "bruh")!"


Finally, our family of mkats was so excited to receive an email from the my father, the Cardinal of Song, whose own meerkats had some adventures of their own. First cousins, these mkats are a bit riskier than ours that reside in the 'burbs out here in Texas. While ours face such obstacles as neighborhood codes regulating garage sales and gardens alike and harassment from our hipster friends living inside the Loop, their kin in LA find themselves posed deep in the waters of gator feeding.

See the raw chicken. Watch your back, guys. I see a ripple in the water!


Stay tuned. Another week--another meerkat journey!