Mmm, mmm, good.

Cold, rainy days need warm, hearty soups. This one is from my mom's Skinny Soups cookbook, which means you can eat a giant bowl, get cozy on the couch, and resist turning into Jabba the Hut. (Skinny Soups gets credit for the chilled strawberry soup at Jen's baby shower and for a chicken rice soup that can cure any sickness, except mine because I don't eat chicken.)

CREAMY BROCCOLI-POTATO SOUP (makes 6-8 servings)

• 4 medium-sized leeks (about 1 lb)
• 2 tsp non-diet, tub-style margarine (do your heart a favor and use Smart Balance)
• 3 c. chicken stock, divided (I used veggie stock)
• 1 1/2 lbs boiling potatoes, peeled and diced (3 1/2 cups diced)
• 4 cups broccoli florets (I used 4 crowns because I hate measuring)
• 1/4 tsp white pepper
• 1 1/4 c whole milk
• salt to taste
• 1-2 tsp chopped chives as garnish (I used scallions)

Since sand and dirt collect under the leaves of leeks, clean them very carefully as follows: Trim off and discard root end and all but about 1 inch of the green tops. Peel off and discard 1 or 2 layers of tough outer leaves. Then, beginning at the green end, slice down about 1 inch into leeks. Put leeks in a colander. Wash them thoroughly under cool running water; wash again to remove all traces of dirt. (This was a leek education for me!) Set them aside until well-drained. Cut leeks crosswise into 1/2 inch pieces.

In Dutch oven or very large saucepan, melt margarine over medium heat. Add leaks and 3 tbsp of stock and cook, stirring frequently, about 10 minutes until leeks are tender but not browned. If liquid begins to evaporate, lower heat slightly and add more stock. Add remaining stock, potatoes, broccoli, and pepper.

Lower heat, cover, and simmer about 11-14 minutes or until potatoes and broccoli are tender. Remove pot from heat and let cool slightly. In batches, puree mixture in a blender on low speed for 10 seconds (I used my immersible blender that my culinary genius momma got me). Then raise speed to high and puree until completely smooth (I left some chunks in mine because I like using my teeth). Return puree to pot in which it was cooked. Add milk and stir to mix well. Simmer an additional 4-5 minutes. Add salt if desired (I definitely desired it).

Serve in medium-sized bowls. Garnish individual servings with sprinkling of chopped chives if desired (I recommend desiring). Soup keeps 2-3 days in the refrigerator.

calories: 163          fat: 2.8g          % cals from fat: 15
sodium: 219 mg    protein: 6.7g    cholesterol: 5mg      

Nurse Google

Yesss, I'm still in nursing school. Noooo, I'm not positive I want to be a nurse when I grow up. Buuuuut, no one will pay me for party planning. Soooo, I get to tell stories like this.

I started this year in a mental health rotation. Having grown up in my family, I learned to love me some crazy. Got anxiety and depression? Yay! How about childhood trauma? Woo hoo! Can I get some substance abuse? Oh yeah. Violence as common as family reunions? That's what I call a party.

To be fair, I think I love me some crazy because I've always just been on the periphery of it. Sure, I've had to pack my grandma's stilettos in a garbage bag so she could flee a fever-ravaged psycho killer, but my family family -- my parents and my sisters -- was at its worst Roseanne-caliber crazy. We weren't the Huxtables, but we weren't the Bundys either.

For me, crazy people are as fun as a good episode of Cops. Or Intervention. Or Hoarders. Or Bad Girls Club. Maybe it's time to tone down the TV watching...

I think my appreciation for crazy people comes from a place of compassion more than a need for entertainment at other people's expense. Although, come on, if someone ever told you they used to hang out with Chuck Norris and were waiting to collect their fortune from Crime Stoppers, could you resist being entertained by the story they were spinning? Even television isn't that good.

My first day on the unit, I was mostly curious, but I was also a little bit afraid. I know my mood disorders, am pretty good with my personality disorders, and am basically an expert with substance abuse, but I had never been around schizophrenia more than as a passerby on a street corner. I had never had to interact with someone whose brain was really, truly betraying them, making them believe things as fully as I believe my perception of the world. To probe those minds even a little bit was completely fascinating sprinkled with a little bit of terrifying. You see, they're not stupid. Their intellect is intact, moreso than some people I go to school with. Some of the things they said, some of their insights, some of their feelings about strangers, while they were completely bizarre at first, they sort of had a psychic transcendence about them after a double-take.

My most memorable account, however, was just plain crazy.

My class was lined up against a wall and a guy walked past us and locked his eyes on mine in such a way that I needed a shower. I tend to think I imagine things, so it wasn't until a fellow student said to me, "I think you just got eye-raped," that I gave that feeling some credence. Not wanting to provoke him, I sort of looked away, then looked back to prove I wasn't afraid of eye contact, and then looked away again. That's called non-verbal communication. Dogs do it, too.

He made another round, and this time he asked my name. I answered him, and then he explained that he had dated two other girls with my name before. Apparently, one had a smell he liked and the other didn't. And then he asked me the weirdest question I've ever been asked in my life.

"Can I smell you?"

How exactly are you not supposed to find that hilarious?

Partyin' Partyin' YEAH!

Ben asked his mom for a popcorn party for his 5th birthday. Yes, a popcorn party. I had never heard of a popcorn party before, but that didn't stop me from blindly renting a popper and making a mood board.

The day before the party I decided I'd better check with Leiah to make sure that by popcorn party Ben meant the snack and not some superhero I'd never heard of. Dodged a bullet on that one and Leiah and I stayed up until 3 am snipping marshmallows and turning cupcakes into sweet popcorn boxes.

The party was adorable, and thanks to Steve de Ruble's job as a "package engineer," we got a couple of giant popcorn boxes and the kids were able to go inside them and play... which scored me big points toward best auntie ever. Boxes and balloons. That's all you need to keep kids entertained. For two hours.

After everyone had left, Leiah, Ben, and Lilly stayed and helped break down the party, which was my favorite time of the whole day. Lilly pulled at the grass while Leiah and Ben sat on balloons and got pop surprises. It was just one of those unexpected perfect moments, propelled by a 5-year-old's delight and the sanctity of a backyard. Success.

Sugar. Spice.

I do not have baby fever. Renee is just getting to be so sweet even though she's a sass diva and now there's Kieron who is a sleeping beauty and seriously.

The Breeders Union

I look at these pictures with all these babies, and rather than feel like I'm missing out on something, I feel like I am part of something wonderful and unlikely, something that is a blessing to be close to even if it's as an observer. It's like I've got a balcony seat to the greatest performance on earth, and I don't have to go to a single late night rehearsal.

That a part-time job in high school would have flourished into lifelong friendships still amazes me. Together we've helped each other through heartache, rock bottoms, financial crises, the loss of parents, disease, layoffs, and miscarriages. We've celebrated graduations, engagements, marriages, and births, and while the physical distance between each of us has increased, the emotional closeness seems to be as tight as it ever was, if only out of gratitude and appreciation and understanding.

 

The only wish I have for this next generation is that they get to have people in their lives as wonderful as the people I've been blessed with in mine. I hope they have people like you who teach them what friendship is all about.

New Fitzgerald

He came last night at 6:43 in a full on tug of war with his umbilical cord.

 

 

He weighed 8 lbs. 8.5 oz. and was 21" long. He came equipped with 100 different squeaks, all of which made us go 'Awwww' and 'Oooooh' and 'Hahahaha.' His head full of hair and his detached earlobes are from his daddy, and his long fingers and perfect cupid's bow are courtesy of his gorgeous mommy.

After about 13 seconds of seeing him, he had a grip on my heart that is still choking me up.

He, like his sister, will probably remain nameless for another day or so while his mom and dad get to know him and feel out a name that suits him, which is why we nicknamed him Fitzgerald months ago (thanks to Liz's suggestion).

For now, he is our sweet baby boy, the littlest cousin, the newest addition, one of us. And we continue to be incomprehensibly lucky.

UPDATE: We have a name. Kieron Sparrow Ellis. Never saw that one coming, which means it's just what I expected!

Here's the deal.

Dear World,

We have no choice but to let you have this little guy. He is too smart and too curious and too awesome for us to keep him contained and fulfilled.

So, we are sharing him with you. But there are things you should know.

He is a sensitive boy. He has a depth of feeling and understanding that most adults don't even have.

He is full of love and kisses and fairness. He will not cut your kid in line and he will not disrespect you. He has been raised better than that.

He likes to wrestle and play hard, but he is not capable of bullying. He needs down time, quiet time, peace. Just give him some cut up red peppers and a movie about dinosaurs and let him chill.

He remembers everything, so if you tell him he can have a blue popsicle next Tuesday, by god you'd better have that damn blue popsicle or he will call you on your lies and you will deserve it.

He has healthy fear. It keeps him from jumping off the roof but it isn't so much that he is a prisoner of it. He will take risks, he will go out of his comfort zone, but he needs to be able to do it in his own time. If he's not ready, back off.

All that being said, perhaps the most important thing for you to know is this: his aunt is prepared to kill you if you hurt him.

Love,
Amber

Cray-cray

Mack sometimes needs attention, and he has become pretty good at finding a way to get me to stop watching the Real Housewives of New Jersey that is effectively annoying. Not too much that I get pissed, but just enough that I am distracted.

Well, the other day a magazine came and Mack started flipping through it.

Then Teresa said something totally bitchy with a smile and thought that'd make it okay.

"Ohhh look, there's a free sample."

My head snapped from the television to the man on the couch peeling out a free sample of something I needed, something that was MINE because I pay for that subscription, something that he was about to STEAL FROM ME!

"What is it? Huh? Is it perfume? I hate perfume. What is it? SERIOUSLY."

"It's a Bioré strip."

Dammit. I love those things.

"Give it to me. It's mine. It's my free sample. GIVE IT TO MEEEE."

He managed to keep it just out of my reach, peeling it out of the package, removing the backing and putting it on his nose, and all I could do was degrade into a swirl of irrational consumer jealousy. Finally he snapped his head around.

Yep, that's a pantyliner.

Maters Precious

My mom and I went to the Tomato Festival today. And we ate tomatoes. Like a dozen types of tomatoes. And it was fabulous.

The adventure started with crepes at 6 Friends. Then we rode our bikes to the Arboretum, where we pretended to be tomato connoisseurs and got our faces painted.

Mom and I finally did shots! :)

We decided to take a little walk around the gardens and the woods, and on the way to the gazebo area, a bee got caught in the strap of my sandal and did a little freak out that resulted in his death and a stinger in my foot.

Bee stings burn a lot worse than I remember.

Things seemed fine yesterday. I'm not allergic and the pain subsided pretty quickly. But then when I woke up this morning...

You know that movie Pure Luck where Martin Short is stung by a bee and his face explodes in swollen? Yeah, I have the foot equivalent of that. As if these feet aren't hobbit enough on their own, now I gotta deal with bee puff on them.

Happily Ever Laughter

Life escapes me sometimes. Or, rather, I get so busy living life that I have no time for soaking it all in. And then stuff that happens in April starts to come back to me in August and that's how we got to today.

Back in April, Ruble got married to Steve. I have been with Ruble through some pretty atrocious relationship dealings, so when I first met Steve, while we were all in Atlanta for Kristin and Will's wedding, I was delighted.

Steve was funny, down to earth, outgoing, and tolerant of our shenanigans. He was like Ruble in all the good ways and a perfect balance for her special blend of crazy. When Ruble would hinge on freak out, which doesn't happen too often, Steve wouldn't let her topple over the edge... mostly because he'd laugh at her. He's equipped with a personality that manages to lighten the mood, maintain the perspective, and find the fun in it all.

By "shenanigans," I mean beer drinking.

And unexpected, competely unwarranted drunken attacks.

Ruble's laugh is the thing that I have always loved the most about her. It didn't matter if it was the middle of a test in high school or the middle of the championship NCAA basketball game, if Ruble felt like laughing, that well of joy erupted like a volcano. There is just no stopping it. She can't keep it in. That freedom to be loud and delighted no matter what is adorable and admirable.

Ruble and I started going on 'dates' when I moved back to Kentucky, days Mack started calling "Rube Days." Steve would sometimes come along, and we'd all sit on a patio somewhere, drinking beers as big as our heads and talking and laughing. Ruble and Steve quickly became one of my favorite couples, one of those rare units that don't make you feel like a third wheel no matter what. I love Ruble, absolutely adore her, all on her own, but somehow, when she and Steve are together, I like her even more.

When they got engaged, on a hot day in July 2009 near the summit of Angel's Landing in Zion National Park, it was sort of like having the universe reaffirm that things are right with the world. Sure, accidents happen and sometimes there are piles of shit, but in the end, yin meets yang and all is well.

Because the epic and overblown World Equestrian Games made people in the business of weddings inflate their prices, Ruble and Steve decided to have a long engagement and get married this past April instead of October 2010 like they wanted. I don't know if that extra time was necessary considering the detailist that Ruble is, but it sure gave her time to spoil the crap out of those of us lucky enough to be her attendants.

Me = legs scarred by bugs in Ghana. Kristin = 6 months pregnant and jealous that we can imbibe. Michelle = definitely not as big a lush as pictures make her out to be. Sarah = not in town. Ruble = 'what have I gotten myself into?'

Ruble's wedding affair started with nails at the nail salon. Then it was a day at Keeneland. After that we had a rehearsal dinner of sea bass, calamari, fried lobster risotto balls, cheesecake, and an open bar. Then we had mimosas at the hair salon and mineral makeup at the spa on the big day.

Ruble did all of this, gave all of this to us, planned it all down to the last detail, even ordering me a special vegetarian sandwich in the lunch order. Most brides need their attendants to handle these things, but Ruble made her attendants feel like princesses while she did the tough tasks of being the queen.

Then there was the wedding.

Ruble was the most beautiful I have ever seen her, gorgeous and effortless and with a figure to die for. Her dad walked her down the aisle, and in true Ruble fashion she started to make small talk with guests on her way to meet Steve at the altar.

During the ceremony, while everyone else prayed, Ruble chuckled and pinched Steve's butt.

You see all those heads bowed? Even that atheist there playing along? Not Ruble!

Words were repeated, rings were exchanged, and I'm pretty sure a pinky swear sealed the deal. Through the whole ceremony though, laughs. Bursts of laughter. Delight echoing off the walls of the church. Pure and unyielding happiness. It was everything you could ever want in a wedding and everything a marriage should be.

There was also a reception, complete with beer chugging contests, the Electric Slide, and even something we'll call 'dancing.' The details are fuzzy, thank god, but the feeling of having a blast is still crystal clear.

No, I did not learn that move from Elaine on Seinfeld. That is all mine.

Congrats Rubeskis. I love you!