One step away from hypothermia.

Well folks, 2011 is continuing to be a horrible year. 2011 is nothing if not consistent and last night it proved that YET AGAIN it has something against me.

Let me set the scene for you. It's approximately 8pm.. the kids are in bed (Jackson is sleeping, Olivia is not), Matt and I are on the couch. I feel chilly so I put a sweatshirt on top of my long sleeved, double layer shirt and put my slippers in addition to my thick socks. Matt puts more clothes on, and we conserve body heat on the couch with two blankets. At about 8:45, Matt asks, "Is it just me or is it cold in here?" as we both sit there shivering like fashionable homeless people. I agree so I toddle off to the thermostat. I don't go over there enough to see what the temp was, but I say, "it's set for 70". Matt replies with, "There is not a fucking chance it's 70 in here."

So I go back over to actually see what the temp is. Well... it was 53 degrees. Awesome. While shivering on the couch we hear the furnace turn on and it's just a noise you hear in the background and don't give it much thought. Unless you're freezing and hear the noise.

So Matt goes to investigate. It seems our furnace, an approximately 7 year old generic piece of shit meant for southern states and not the rigorous use of northern states, decides it's kind of over working. Like, it just feels like it needs a break. So it just refuses to blow. (Which I can understand. I'm not a fan of blowing either but sometimes you just have to take one for the team, ya know?) The furnace knows to turn on, the flame ignites... but then nothing starts blowing.

So there's Matt, sitting next to the litter box on a little kid's step stool in the cubby of our laundry room trying to read the furnace manual and figure out what the eff is going on. Or not going on as it were.

He is like 60% sure it's the flame sensor. The thing that tells the furnace "Hey- I've got a flame- blow me". The 40% chance we're REALLY hoping it's not is that the entire thing is malfunctioned. Like...requiring a new one. A new furnace is a couple thousand dollars. To install said furnace puts us up around $3,500. If we're lucky. BUT the kicker... is the venting.

You see.. when we bought the house Matt thought the vents looked whack. What you don't see in this picture that is to the left, is that the vents are a giant mash up. So, whoever installed it (probably the dickweasel who had the house before us) just put it in, half assed the vents, and called it a day. Which explains why the kids' bedrooms have no heat (seriously- they have NONE. I have to heat their rooms up with a space heater and then turn it off at bedtime), why the bathroom has heat and is hotter than the 3rd ring of Hell, and why there are heat vents under windows in our living room. Oh, and one in the middle of the floor in the kitchen. Basically- it was done all wrong.... which is why we're always cold anyways.

AND... it's why we can't get on what is called "secure heat" here. You see, secure heat is a fun feature that you pay like $20 a month for on your utility bill. So let's say, oh.. that your furnace decides to stop working.. you call and they come to fix it. For free. That's right- it's like furnace insurance. But to get on that, your furnace and venting needs to be code. Which ours isn't. And we just don't have that kind of money laying around.

Matt tinkered with it enough to get it to kick on, but he's very adamant that it's a temporary fix and that if we make it another month like that it'll be a miracle.

So. Let's cross our fingers, toes, and dick/balls and hope it's the flame sensor. Which we have to order because tee-dah... nobody carries that part around here. And let's hope that Mr. Furnace can work a little bit until NEXT Friday. Otherwise we might all die of hypothermia.

So yeah. But fun fact- it's really bizarre to wake up seeing your breath. In your bedroom. It's like camping..but indoors. It's kind of weird.

Anyways. So that's my plight this coming weekend.

Tomorrow is my Dear Sara post... and I need a few more questions. So email them to: sarastrand9438(AT)hotmail(DOT)com.

Also, starting Monday I'm starting a weight loss challenge. So eat like a fat whore this weekend bitches because I want you to get on board with this shiz. The hope is that I shame you enough to not want to be a fat ass. Sound good? No? Good. It's not supposed to be fun. Losing weight is not fun. I don't care what Jillian Michaels tells you- you are not going to like it and you will feel like dying and eating a bunch of Taco Bell. Even if they are using faux-cow meat. Whatever. So just get on board. Details coming Monday. :)

The time a bunch of tomatoes kicked my ass. True Story.

Once in awhile, I get all Betty Crocker/Martha Stewart/Susie Homemaker/with a dash of Mommy Dearest. I'm lucky enough that Matt can just take my random whims and go with it, only assisting when something gets critical and even then- he doesn't complain.

A lot.

This weekend was no different. See, Finny told me that you can make a chocolate cake with zucchini and you don't taste the vegetables. I have yet to try this because hey--I have a life all of a sudden-- but I? Am one step closer. Behold! This is what I managed to do with 10 zucchini thingies!

What? I should have had more than six cups of grated zucchini from 10 of those bastards? I would agree as well. I probably will the next time now that I realized I should grate into a fucking bowl thus preventing at least four cups of grated zucchini which is now plastered to various places in my kitchen. But these are frozen in my stand alone freezer ready to go. (Side note: I already feel more home-maker-y by having a stand alone freezer. And I would be lying if I said I'm not freezing things for no reason just so I can fill the bitch up.)

Another project that I decided to take on was home made tomato sauce. Because we have pasta? Seriously every weekend. I'm going through cans like you wouldn't believe. And I hate tomatoes so basically sauce is all I can think of for using the 6 pounds of tomatoes we had left over.

(and by "left over" I mean from the huge amounts of produce my inlaws brought us on Saturday. Pretty much everyone left our party with fresh produce because I just don't have that kind of time)

So after a few minutes of research I figured no asshole could possibly fuck up tomato sauce. SUPER easy. So I got started with skinning of them here 'maters.

Tell me these don't look kind of like testicles. Seriously- this is what I think a testicle would look like if it were all exposed.

Then I began the ridiculously long process of boiling them down to sauce. NOWHERE in all 17 tutorials that I read AND watched did it tell me exactly how much of my lifetime would be wasted on boiling these things down to sauce. Seriously. Once it got to the point where they were almost done you were supposed to blend them.

And I hate blending. I hate it. I have such a wonky blender that does it's own thing when it damn well pleases that I seriously should just throw it away. But I also have a food processor I've never used because I can't figure out how to hook it all up without food going everywhere. (Confession: I only asked for one because I was way into Food Network and felt like a loser without one.) So I transferred my sauce to the blender to blend.

And both kids were standing there watching mommy. Of course, I'm talking to them like they are a TV audience and I'm pretending I'm a food show host.

And then out of NOWHERE one of the kids bumps my leg. And then it happened.

Sauce went EVERYWHERE. I started screaming for Matt to help because for about 4 seconds I had sauce shooting to the ceiling, both kids were screaming, I was burned by hot sauce, but somehow I managed to turn off the blender.

Matt was really nice and cleaned the worst up while I laughed hysterically. You know- I do what I do. But then I got super angry. See?? I had my jars READY for sauce. And I spent the better part of my afternoon playing with look alike testicles and boiling these bastards down and all I have to show? Is a mess. Sauce in all of my cupboards (upper and lower), in my mixer, in my utensils holders, on the floor, on the ceiling, on the stove, and on me.

Fucking Betty Crocker fail.

I got my ass kicked by tomatoes. Which was bad enough. And then I saw this:

by my back door. Are you serious???????? *cry*

And I want it known that I still have a ton of zucchini, corn and yes, tomatoes in my front porch. *cry*

So folks--- do you know how to freeze corn niblets? Provide me instructions. (Preferably some I can't fuck up)

Do you have any recipes for zucchini that involved baked goods where I won't taste the zucchini?