I’m working on those other requests, but today I have the following highlights for you:
The rookie human in our family learned that if you fill your pockets with rocks at the beginning of a hike for the mid-point lake rock throwing, you will spend much of the hike yanking up your drawers.
Caveat: true if you’re built like Spouse; no guarantees made if you’re built like post-weaning me.
The rookie mom of our family learned that if your small human fills his pockets with rocks, the action of walking 3 miles (no joke…I bribed him with two lollipops and a fistful of licorice, but he walked—without whining—3 miles. Did I mention that after the pockets were empty he walked another half mile? Uphill? A steep one? Kid is built like Spouse on the outside and like me on the inside.)
Anyway, if a pocket full of rocks is emptied of said rocks after 3 miles, two things are true: 1)rocks will have shed approximately 1/4 cup of dirt, all of which will go into the bed at naptime (you vets know to take them off first; I am a rookie); and 2) a standard cotton pocket will act as a fine sieve and a good portion of the dirt will filter through onto underdrawers and thighs, the result of which is impossible to shake out before nap. Believe me. After I found my mistake I shook that kid like…just kidding shaking is not funny. Except that it is.
I also learned that if you’re really crave making a whole pot of cream of potato ssoup just so you can pour it all over a casserole dish of your home-baked mac-n-cheese and eat it all with a soup spoon, maybe, just maybe, you need some sodium. But probably not that much.
And to cap it off, I swear, this is exactly the sixth step in a recipe for cream of potato soup.
“Add flour and create a rue.”
How would I create a rue? Burn the meal six steps in? Or get to the sixth step and realize I’m still eighteen steps from some damned soup?
NaptimeWriting 
Sounds like witchcraft if you ask me. Nothing like casting a spell to whip up dinner. If rue were for dinner. But who would want to serve that? Except maybe to someone you didn’t like. But why would you be making dinner for someone you didn’t like? I think the moral of the story is that you should only make dinner for people you like.
The End.
I think you got punked on that recipe. But I kinda stopped reading after the mac-and-cheese bit. My mind went elsewhere, um, like to the kitchen. mmmmmm. A “rue” sounds yummy.
Ok, I giggled. But sometimes I can’t get anything to thicken, chilly, stew, soup. Ok, well, soup, that’s ok.
And 3 miles?! Where are you getting this energy?! Oh, right. You’re further along. Hmm, I think that’s jealousy. Or hate.
How awesome that Peanut walked 3 miles and didn’t complain. Even with the bribes, that’s a big accomplishment.
Potato soup over macaroni and cheese…you ARE pregnant, aren’t you darling!
And about the rue…maybe it’s the rue you have over the cheese-encrusted casserole dish? Giggle.
Yeah, and rock-dirt is clingier than other dirts, somehow. Not fun. But sounds like a fun hike!
To create a rue must be to regret that you have to make your own soup. Because you’re pregnant, dang it. Someone should be cooking for you. So that all you have to do is juxtapose it with something that no non-pregnant human would think of and enjoy!
OMG, I made the soup the next day with a roux instead of a rue and it was freaking awesome. Oh my heavenly potatoey goodness. Oh my. I’ll post the recipe, which I modified to include a roux and a lot less work.