This is a Mexican twist on traditional lasagna.
**I don't use ricotta cheese, because Roger and the boys don't like it (the weirdos), so make sure you do my egg & cheese trick...it helps bind the lasagna together.

1 pound of ground turkey
1 large onion, chopped
Tomato sauce (1 15 oz can)
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 can of Ranch Style Beans
1 can of Enchilada sauce (mild or hot, your choice)
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 tsps. chili powder
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground allspice
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
9 lasagna noodles (cooked)
2 cups of shredded mexican cheese
2 eggs

Preheat the oven to 350. Cook lasagna noodles according to package directions, drain and let cool. In a large dutch oven, brown ground turkey and onion until turkey is cooked through. Add chopped garlic and cook 30 seconds. Add tomato sauce, ranch beans, Worcestershire sauce, chili powder, cumin, cinnamon, allspice, and cloves, stirring after each addition.

Reduce heat and simmer at least 10 minutes. Check for seasonings and add salt if necessary.

In a medium mixing bowl, beat two whole eggs. Add 1 cup of shredded cheese and mix together.

Ladle a small amount of sauce in bottom of 9x13 inch pan. Add 3 lasagna noodles and a layer of sauce. Add another layer of noodles, more sauce, and with your fingers (I know, it's gross), spread a layer of egg/cheese mixture on top of the sauce. Finish by layering the last of the lasagna noodles and sauce and top with the remainder of the cheese.

Cover with foil and bake for 40 minutes, remove the foil and bake an additional 20 minutes.

Let stand at least 15 minutes before serving.

The other day Layla and I found a stray Yellow Lab on our walk. Of course, we took him home and immediately fell in love with "Buddy" (even Roger fell for him, which tells you a LOT about what a charming dog Buddy is).

We did our job as good citizens and posted tons of Found Dog signs in the neighborhood and, unfortunately, Buddy's owner saw the signs and called to collect him. Believe me, I won't be making THAT mistake again. If sweet Buddy manages to escape and find his way over here, you WON'T be hearing about it from ME. Nope, Layla and I will just keep our lips sealed and enjoy life with our new"found" canine friend....uhhhhh, Duddy.

Anyway, before Buddy's owner called, we were discussing the idea of keeping Buddy for our own selves. Well, I was discussing it - Roger was fighting it. Poor guy actually thought he had a SAY in something like that, bless his heart.

One of Roger's main objections is that he really, really, really wants to retire - as soon as possible, like right now, and he firmly thinks the cost of an extra dog would delay that retirement.

Now, SOME people would say that if the expense of having just ONE MORE DOG is gonna keep you from retirement, then maybe you're not financially READY for that retirement. SOME people might say that, but it's not gonna be ME. I'm not about to tell a man who has to wrangle 20+ second graders each and every day, five days a week, that retirement MIGHT NOT be a great idea. Nope, not gonna go THERE.

What I WILL share with you is an observation I made the other day. I mentioned to Roger that, one day I might like to have some work on my chest area. Nothing MAJOR - nothing ENLARGING, just a little bit of a lift, a slight tucking UPWARD, maybe more of a HEAVE. Oh, who am I kidding here - we're talking major structural repair, complete with steel girders and support beams. Gravity has NOT been kind, okay?

I simply made a slight off-hand comment about this the other night while getting ready for bed. It's not an exaggeration to say that within the next 24 hours, Roger had asked me, not once, but TWICE, if I had done any research into and found out any info about my boob job.

Now, see, apparently, we can't afford to feed and care for an extra dog without going into the poor house and forcing Roger to continue to slave away at the educational equivalent of busting rocks on a chain gang, but a BOOB JOB FOR MOMMA??? Oh, that's totally DOABLE!

Remember in an earlier post I said we had an occasional "odor" in the house, and remember I said I was fairly certain (read: absoloutely terrified) that odor was related in some way to the squirrels and/or rats living in our attic? Man, it gets old being right all the time.

The good news is we are currently vermin-free and are armed and ready to stay that way. The bad news is, it cost us a small fortune to get that way....the even WORSE news is, it's become apparent that we could have accomplished this very same feat with a 12 pak of empty Diet Coke cans - or maybe a 12 pak of empty beer cans would have been a more festive approach to solving this particular problem.

Roger was finally convinced to call in the professionals when we overheard a particularly boisterous and noisy romp over the kitchen table. Apparently, it's MATING SEASON!! Oh Joy! The commotion was one you could only envy - or fear - depending on your point of view. While the FREQUENCY was impressive, the DURATION of the "encounters" wasn't anything to write home about, if you know what I mean.

Plus, there's something kinda sleazy about overhearing ANYTHING, even a rodent, "gettin' busy"....think of the song, Muskrat Love, with less cute gibbering and more obnoxious thumping - really loud and really rapid thumping.

Roger agreed, after much nagging and carrying on by yours truly, to finally allow trained professionals to come in and get the job done. Something, HE assured me he could do if it wasn't for the two dozen or more urgent things he already HAD on his To-Do List, and the fact that he's not real fond of heights, and we don't own a flashlight that works, and he has mild claustrophobia, and oh yeah, he's right in the middle of this Life or Death on-line computer hearts game.

Yeah, whatever. Anyway, the Vermin Man (my name for him - not his actual NAME - the man drives around in a bright yellow truck with tee-tiny paw prints on it for God's sake, let's give him SOME dignity), showed up and asked me what the problem was. I said, I thought it was rats and squirrels in the attic. In his best, "Don't worry your little head about it Little Lady" voice, he assured me he'd check it out, assess the threat and formulate a plan.

After a complete and thorough inspection he informed me we had "rats and squirrels in the attic". WOW, you know, he really should be paid for that kind of insight.....oh wait, HE IS!!
He recommended a two step approach of trapping the animals and sealing up the various entries and exits the little mooching germ bags had been using to gain access to their Critter Condos in my attic.

He quoted us a price that was DOUBLE the amount of money I paid for my first car. Roger started shaking his head "no" and I grabbed the pen from the guy and signed the contract before Roger could formulate his kind "thanks, but no thanks" speech.

See, let me jump in here in my defense and say that during his search and discovery mission, the Critter guy hollered down from the attic and asked Roger for a garbage bag. You know NOTHING good is going to come of a vermin guy in your attic asking for a trash bag....and, sure enough, it WASN'T good. Captain Critter had found the source of our mysterious odor: A HUGE, DEAD AND RAPIDLY DECOMPOSING RAT in my attic.

Yessiree, nothing makes you prouder as a homeowner, than to sit on your couch while somebody hauls the stinking, bloated body of a disease ridden rodent out of the attic, DIRECTLY over the spot where you and your family sit and watch television, literally within spitting distance of where you eat. Right at that moment, price was NO object, believe me. We signed on the dotted line and I thought I heard the distinct sound of a cash register ringing, but maybe I'm wrong here.

The Search and Destroy Team was deployed the next day - traps were set and baited (and ignored by the vermin), entries and exits were located and secured (so the rodents simply chewed NEW ones) and one squirrel was accidentally sealed in the attic.

We know this because of the frenzied, power gnawing we could hear over the kitchen table. This was no casual "gee, I'm bored, wonder what this wood tastes like" chewing. Nope, this was a"Holy Mother Of God, I'm trapped in this attic hell hole and I've gotta get OUT!" GNAW-FEST. Which resulted in a, I'm NOT kidding about this, SOFTBALL SIZED HOLE over my kitchen window.

Okay, Roger and I are NOT real wildlife enthusiasts, especially when it comes to rats, mice and other skittery, crawly things that are liable to JUMP ON MY FACE AND GET TANGLED IN MY HAIR!! And, since it was Easter weekend, it was a safe bet nobody from the critter place was gonna ride to the rescue. What should we DO?? The squirrel was apparently OUT, but, I was betting it was coming back. Just my luck, my kids and my dog are trying desperately to escape me, but apparently, rodents and squirrels just LOVE living here.

Well, I'm proud to say I solved the problem and it was a GENIUS solution, if I do say so myself. I emptied out a Diet Coke can and after Roger sawed off the ends (without ANY bloodshed, either), I cut the can open and we staplegunned that sucker right over that big, huge hole. TA DAAAAA!! Squirrel Access DENIED!!

I was one happy camper, let me tell you....that is until I realized that I could have rodent proofed this entire house with about $5.00 worth of aluminum cans and staples.

So, readers, please learn a lesson from all of this. If you detect the presence of unwanted animals in your attic, don't call in a costly professional. Just dig your husband's staple gun out of the garage and wave a 12 pak in front of his face. I guarantee you, you'll win the Rodent War and have yourself a very happy volunteer army!

I know you're not going to believe this, but he sleeps like this all the time and we DON'T arrange the pillow for him. He manages to knock it down and get it all arranged under his head by himself.

If only he'd put that talent to achieving World Peace.

Pictures from our recent ice storm.

These are pictures I took at Tupinamba's Restaurant the other night. The owner is, obviously, a RABID Aggie Fan.

Roger and I felt a little conspicuous at first, being decked out head to toe in our new Christmas Aggie gear, but we got over it after we saw the bathroom doors. "Aggies" for the mens room and "Maggies" for the ladies.

This is our favorite picture of Roger and the boys, all dressed up for my niece's wedding. Alex & Joseph were ring bearers and Joseph made it almost all the way through the entire ceremony before he hit the Best Man with the pillow.

Family Night At Our Favorite Greek Restaurant.

I'm having a bad day, and I decided to make a list of all the things that are currently ticking me off and/or upsetting me. Get yourself a snack, it's a long list.

1. My house smells. I don't know what it is, or WHY it smells. All I can tell you is there's definitely an odor. I have a really highly defined sense of smell, and that coupled with my OCD is driving me straight up the wall. I think the odor is centered around Roger's closet and the patio room. It might even be some kind of squirrel mummy stuck in the attic, which leads me to....

2. We have squirrels in our attic. Not just regular squirrels - these are very athletic, very noisy, very social squirrels who apparently like to entertain between 6 - 7:00 a.m. every morning. Squirrels do brunch - who knew? I went on a wildlife removal company's website and discovered that squirrels and "other vermin" (yes, squirrels are actually VERMIN - which DID NOT make me feel better), once they are in your attic, they burrow through your insulation, making nests and "soiling" everything. Yep, those vermin are using our attic as their 2,000 square foot litter box. Those cute little buggers are getting uglier by the minute, I can tell you.

3. My dog is an evil demon from Hell and is out to destroy my life. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh, but I'm very disgusted with She Who Is Thisclose To Getting Shipped Off To Doggie Obedience Camp. I'm tired of being dragged every morning from one smell to another, tired of trying to walk around and avoid her "kitty deposit" snacking opportunities, and tired of being afraid to answer the doorbell - not because of who might be on the other side, but because of being tackled from behind by this 90 pound, blonde, visitor seeking missile.

The mailman just delivered a package for Joseph (believe me, I'll make sure he knows he's to blame when he gets home). I try to open the door just a tee tiny bit, so my sweet and understanding mailman can slip the mail through to me, when Little Miss Nuclear Bomb shoves her way through and takes off like a pmsing woman chasing the Russell Stover's delivery van.

I drop the mail, grab the leash and high tail it after her. Is anything more embarassing than screaming and chasing after your dog, while the dog continues running around doing whatever the Hell it wants, with a slap happy grin on its' face? Yeah, everybody, look at ME - I am obviously in charge of this situation. Who needs Cesar Milan? Not me, nope, I am SOOO much the pack leader.

The neighbor across the street helps me grab Layla and I get her leashed up and she STILL continues to PULL ME DOWN THE STREET!!! Now, this is just adding insult to injury, isn't it? She got her free romp - why can't she be a little giving and at least ACT like she's taken a training class (which she HAS, by the way)? Oh no, she's gotta push and push and push (or in this case, pull and pull and pull) - hey, there might be a nice cat poop snack out there she's missed.

By this time, I'm seriously rethinking my decision NOT to use my father's approach to dog training. Which is to beat the ever lovin' snot out of a dog when it misbehaves. Sure, you get a dog that dives for cover and pees on itself every time you lift your hand to scratch your nose, but you DON'T have to worry about them misbehaving.

4. My yard looks like war torn Iraq. Seriously, string some barbed wire and slap up some sniper towers and you don't even have to go remote to do convincing war coverage stories. I'd like to have one of those "livable back yards". The kind that just BEGS you to come sit and enjoy a book or the wildlife (except the vermin). The only problem is, I'm too lazy to do it myself and we can't afford to hire it done. A couple of things are ahead of that in the financial line....college educations for two.

5. I'm lonely and I'm just gonna get lonlier. I know, I know, break out the violins....but, I can't help it. Being a Stay At Home Mom is a wonderful job. Except, you don't realize how great it is until you're DONE doing it. At least I didn't.

Alex has been moved out a while and has recently moved EVEN FURTHER away from us. Joseph is going away to college in the Fall, further breaking my heart and ruining my life, and apparently the DOG is even trying desperately to get away from me.

6. I can't even enjoy my pity party in peace. I got a Christmas Card from a used-to-be neighbor today. She has two kids that are our kids' ages, and in her yearly Christmas Letter (yes, she's one of THOSE people), she told about her son being in a horrible car accident last February. A very severe accident, which, among other things, resulted in him losing two fingers on his left hand.

She didn't go into other details, but the fact that he's moved back home at the age of 22 and is working for the "family company" tells a story of it's own. It also tells me that I should shut up and stop feeling sorry for myself. If a smelly house, live-in squirrels, a manic dog and a touch of lonliness are my only problems - then I don't have any problems at all.

Joseph told us the other day that he had been voted Most Unique by the senior class. I really don't think he knew how to take it, maybe didn't know if it was a compliment or a joke, depending on the definition of "unique".

Roger and I tried to reassure him that it was, indeed a compliment. But, how do you tell someone, someone like Joseph, how very special they really are.

Joseph started out special, he was born on his due date, which, in case you didn't know, is extremely rare. Only a very small percentage of babies are actually born on their predicted due dates. Others arrive sometime during the two weeks prior or the two weeks after. It's NOT an exact science, except for special people - people like Joseph.

As a baby, Joseph was incredibly easy. He came here loving to sleep and eat, and after the nightmare baby that Alex (his older brother) was, this made him very special.

Toddler years were a different matter, altogether. When Joseph reached the age of question, and he reached it VERY early, in my opinion, the words "just because" didn't mean a lot to him. We had some rough and rocky times until I learned that this child, this very special child, wasn't being difficult on purpose. He was merely questioning the WHYS and REASONS behind the rules and behaviors the world was imposing on him.

Once it was explained to Joseph why a rule was needed, he'd think about it, and if it made sense to him, he'd obey without further question. Silly and nonsensical rules were up for discussion and debate, and IF Joseph decided to follow the arbitrary rules, it was because of his love and/or respect for the person making the request, NOT because it was what was expected.

Joseph, just by his very existence, has taught so many people so many things. His pre-school teacher learned a child can be older and wiser than his years, but, yet still be a child with childlike actions. He taught his art teacher that artistic talent can be detected and guided in someone as young as 7 years old. He taught his second grade teacher that standing up for what's right is more important than going to recess on time.

His band buddies on their trip to Disney a couple of years ago, learned much more about Disney than they would have if Joseph hadn't taken over their group and organized their activities, including bathroom breaks. Such is the burden of a born leader, a leader like Joseph.

Throughout his life, Joseph has helped and tutored friends in academics, art and band. He's always been going places and he's going to take the people he loves with him, no matter how much work it might be.

He's funny and talented and smart and stubborn and loving and dedicated and determined; and he holds himself to almost impossibly high standards. Standards that are so high, most people would be happy with much, much less.

Even so, his standards are only for himself. He isn't boastful or condescending to those who haven't achieved his level of success. He believes every person is an individual, with special gifts and talents to share, and to appreciate.

How do you tell someone that, because of them, you're a better person? That you've learned to look past the surface, and not always take the easy way out. To question the rules and stand against them if they're wrong, no matter the possible penalty. That the rocky, winding road may not be the easiest, but the sights you'll see and the feelings you'll have will be worth so much more; and to give anything less than my best effort is a greater insult to myself than if I try and fail.

God gives us gifts and blessings in life. Joseph is both a gift and a blessing to me, but, I believe he's more than that. I truly believe Joseph is a gift to mankind. The kind of human being who, just by his very existence, makes the world, and it's people, a better place to be. THAT, is the definition of UNIQUE.

Let me tell ya, it was a close call!!

Picture this - Roger, who is so afraid of heights the man has to psyche himself up to climb a 6 ft. ladder, was precariously propping the ladder across the hedges in front of the house (now, anyone who knows me, knows that my house is on a terraced front yard - so the top of my yard is about the heighth of the top of the trees across the STREET - yep, the air is rare up there.

Joseph was on TOP of the house, LEANING way the hell over to staple gun the string of lights across the eaves. Everytime he'd go to squeeze the staple gun, the force of it would literally LIFT him off the roof about 2-3 inches, then plop his clueless azz back down again.

Alex is on the ground (thank God one of them is Earthbound at least) and is in charge of "holding the ladder". Note to self, holding the ladder apparantly is man-code for casually resting a foot on the lowest rung, while shouting instructions to the idiot on the ladder above you.

Alex is ALSO in charge of transporting needed supplies to the idiot on the roof - which involves a lot of hand waving and heaving of various heavy, sharp and possibly lethal objects, including staple guns, boxes of extra staples and wire cutters - the sharp ones. All of these items Joseph delights and takes great pride in catching one-handed.

Please keep in mind Roger, the breadwinner of the family is directly UNDERNEATH all of this Sharp Object Heaving and One Handed Catching, busily untangling lights while hanging on by one elbow crooked in the ladder.

Oh, and don't forget the ingenious way he figured out how to MOVE the ladder over without all that unnecessary climbing up and down. That's right folks, you just grab the ladder in both hands and jerk it back and over a couple of inches (did I say JERK??). The problem with this is that if you don't do it right, you'll smash straight through the big dining room windows, but HEY, what's Holiday Decorating without a little risk?

I swear, it's a miracle I don't have a drinking problem.