The Verdict

Because I think everything is better in haiku form:

Flying Biscuit Grits
Even better than I hoped
Go try them yourself


... and I added a dash of garlic salt. BECAUSE I'M WILD.

Splenda Sweet Tea

I grew up drinking unsweet tea - that's how it was made at my house. I love unsweet tea - it's very refreshing. However, living in the south, I have learned to love sweet tea as well. My mother-in-law's sweet tea is the hands-down best.

Chad says he doesn't like unsweet tea - but I'm not convinced because he does drink it unsweet some times at my parent's house. But whatever. I usually don't make tea at all because we can't seem to compromise. I like to wisely save my calories. I'd rather eat a piece of chocolate than waste 'em on a sugary beverage. And I'm sure not going to make SOME sweet tea and SOME unsweet. That's just wasteful. We don't drink it that much.

Well I thought we'd compromise and I would start making sweet tea with splenda. Unfortunately - poor timing on my part - I told Chad this in the middle of the g-store. He was not happy with me. I believe, "What are you trying to do to me?!?!" were his words. He was already mad I made him put back the Oreos. I prefer not to keep tempting snacks around the house. If you're craving a cookie, and you have no cookies, then you won't end up eating a box of cookies.

I had already made the mistake of allowing Chad to go to the g-store for me the previous week. He went rouge on my grocery list. He came home with two big bags of honey-dijon kettle chips, one bag of Oreos, one bag of Milanos (for me, he said), and a bag of peanut butter M&Ms. Needless to say, I kept a close eye on the cart after that.

So splenda sweet tea. I got home and made a big pitcher of it. He tastes a little bit and grimaces - soooo dramatic. It really didn't even taste that different. I thought it was good! However he said it is awful and nothing like regular sweet tea.

So then, as I like to do, I decide to goad him a bit and tell him that I was going to call his mother and tell her how much he loved the sweet tea with splenda and she should start making it that way too! Chad's mom is very health-conscience - and sweet tea is probably the only thing she makes that is "bad for you." She doesn't even drink it - she just has it on-hand when Chad and I come over.

Now Chad is not a violent man, but I thought he might tackle me then and there.

A haiku moral of the story:
Chad says no splenda
Only sugar in sweet tea
Leave my treats alone

Honey, can I help?

On most days, there is nothing I'd like more than to hear Chad say, "Honey, can I help with dinner?" However, the other night I had about 9 minutes left on the elliptical and about 10 minutes of crunches. I knew dinner wasn't going to take long to fix, so I just said, "No honey, it's fine. I'll start on it when I'm done." And yes we do always call each other honey. I blame our parents- they do it too.

Anyway, for some unknown reason - Chad was really jazzed to begin dinner. Sheesh - it was only like 5:45. Perhaps it's because he knew I was making Pioneer Woman's 'Marlboro Man's Favorite Sandwich.' He was pumped to be getting a "man dinner" because I usually stay far away from meat. I can't help it. Pasta + veggies are all I need in my life. Unfortunately, Chad was raised with a good Southern mama - and his dinners usually included a meat, a starch and two types of veggies. It makes it fun when I go to the in-laws for dinner because I get to fill up on the side dishes (the woman makes a mean butterbean). Once she learned that I'm not the biggest meat eater, she began making dinners of salad and baked potatoes - just for me. Chad is bitter and insists she NEVER used to do that, but she likes to make me happy. I really do adore my mother-in-law... love her like my own Mama.

Okay focus Caroline - meat. Yes, the man likes his meat. We have a guy in our Bible study group that has a coworker nicknamed "Bacon." Chad LOVES that. He asked me to give him a pork nickname. So sometimes when I'm extra-loving, I'll call him "Porkchop." He likes that.

So back to meat sandwich. Chad was determined to start dinner. I give him a simple task - I ask him to slice the onion into strips. He asked how to do that - so while on the elliptical I'm trying to demonstrate that you cut off both ends, cut it down the middle, put the flat side down, and just slice it through. Harder to type - but I promise I was doing the hand gestures and everything. So Chad goes into the kitchen to Iron Chef those onions.

He finished slicing his onions, and goes to get the Pioneer Woman website up on the computer so I could follow the directions for the rest of the recipe. He screams from the kitchen, "Oh no! I did the onions wrong." I can't help it - I am laughing while I'm typing this. He walks over to my mat and holds up an onion slice that looks like one of those petals from an Outback Bloomin' Onion. I don't even know how he did it! I don't think I could carve onion petals if I tried! It was like masterfully cut - just not the way I told him to do it. Bless his heart. He does try so hard.

So I gave up on my crunches. He was obviously desperate for a sandwich and tears of frustration (or probably onion cutting) were in his eyes.

Regardless, an onion slice is an onion slice - it didn't make a lick of difference. I sliced the onion petal-like slices length wise to make them a bit thinner. We proceeded to finish the recipe - minus him fussing at me for trying to cut the amount of butter in the recipe. I succeed, by the way.

The sandwich turned out great - not exactly my cup of tea but Chad was in heaven. He brought leftovers to work and showed some of his coworkers the Pioneer Woman website so they could make their own!

A day in the life, I'll tell ya...

A haiku moral of the story:
If man wants to help
Onions will be cut his way
That's okay with me

Flavored Yogurt

I was not lying to you people when I said that I think of really, really random stuff. I think this is why I have problems falling asleep at night. Two nights ago I think I kept myself up for about 2 extra hours (putting my bedtime at like 10:30 pm, right Han?) - thinking about what I would name my child if it were a boy. Note: I am NOT pregnant. Don't get excited Mom. But names were racing through my head all night. Drives me crazy. I can't shut it off either. But after 2 hours of mind racing, I usually try and thrash around the bed loudly in hopes Chad will wake up so I can talk to him. He doesn't. I think he's onto my game.

But that's neither here nor there.

Here is yogurt. Saturday afternoon I was at the g-store (my hip term for grocery store since gro-cer-ey is entirely too long to say. Three syllables - outta my life). Yoplait has about a gazillion different flavors. Since it was 1) around lunchtime, 2) I had just worked out and 3) not had anything to eat all day - the choices were lookin' pretty appealing. I believe my selections included: cinnamon roll, strawberry shortcake, and another dessert-ish flavor like creme brulee (just kidding, that is not an option so don't get excited).

Fast-forward to Tuesday morning. Grab my yogurt selection for the day - cinnamon roll. The pretty picture of a cinnamon roll with icing on the package has me thinking - this is going to be great! I have my first bite - and I'll be honest, I was pleased. It did taste like a cinnamon roll. But then I starting thinking - WHY in the WORLD to I want to be eating cinnamon roll-flavored yogurt? It's like a liquid cinnamon roll. And HOW do they get yogurt to even taste like a cinnamon roll. It's not like a fruit-flavored yogurt where there are actual pieces of the fruit in there. It was entirely too much for me to process for a Tuesday morning after a holiday weekend.

A haiku moral of the story:
Oh cinnamon roll
You don't belong in yogurt
Stick with strawberry