Holy Long Lines Batman!
I am a simple gal. With simple pleasures. One of which is taking the kids over to our smokey neighbor state and visiting Kraynaks.
Like I said, I’m a simple girl.
Me and the girls look forward to goin twice a year, once in the spring for the Easter Bunny Land and once in the winter for Santa Land. Oh, the joys of the holidays.
Occasionally, I can drag Chuck along, but he remains noncommittal, always trying to ditch us. This year he laid aside all manliness and followed us to Pennsylvania.
Once we got there, we walked in the back door, where we were directed to go back outside to the front door. (as the line to enter Santa Land extended well beyond the heated warmth that is Kraynaks and plunged through the front doors into the cold that is the climate we so love up this way.)
Then we waited. Ah, the glorious splendor that is the holidays. This is when Reese decided to take a snooze. (Waiting is boring.)
This is when I was thankful that my husband decided to come.
As you can see in the background the portal to heatedness awaits in the distance.
But before we got inside I snapped a pic of my B-E-A-U-tiful girls. (minus the one that was getting her beauty sleep)
Ain’t they delicate flowers? (They get that from me.)
Well in no time at all we found ourselves basking in the animated ornate illumination that is Christmas. I love it. I love the hokey 70’s mechanical Charlie Brown and Strawberry Shortcake. The “Mr Bill” choir singers with erratic bobbing heads. The overuse of tinsel and well, the overuse of everything. I love it all. And my Christmas is somehow not complete without a trip through this land of seasonal fun. (I feel like I am using too many adjectives. Am I?)
But, in the end it all turned out well. Reese finally woke up and got to partake in the Neff tradition: Christmas Over Exposure.
I hope everyone’s Christmas was one to remember.
The Walton’s We Ain’t.
This is a recent pic of our fam at turkey day in Columbus. (We tell the kids the God lives in Columbus.) For some reason Chuckie’s Mom and Dad and Matt’s family worked their way into our photo. How rude.
Oreo Bon Bons
Recently I’ve discovered the happiness that is Oreo Bon Bons.
Let me share this happiness with you. And if you ask nicely, I will make you a batch.
Take one whole package of regular Oreos. Put em in your food processor. Make Oreo dust. (I never had a food processor until now. I never knew I needed a food processor, then I found these cookies and knew that life would not be complete without a food processor.) If you don’t have a food processor, put all your Oreos in a bag and bang the heck out of em with a rolling pin until you make Oreo dust.
Let a package of cream cheese soften, I like the fat free kind, cuz it’s softer and easier to mix and no one will ever know that there is a lack of fat, cuz of the existing heart clogging fat in the entire package of Oreos. Ahem.
Blend the Oreo dust and cream cheese in a bowl.
Roll into 1 inch balls. Place them on wax paper or foil. You should be able to make 100 lil balls. (Cue: all guys to giggle. “She said balls.”)
Wrap up the balls in foil and put em the freezer. Chill a few hours at least or overnite.
Later that day, or the next day:
Put a bag of white chocolate melting chips in a bowl. Microwave em for 45 seconds and check to see if they’ve melted. Not melted? Put em back in for another 45 seconds. Repeat until smooth and melty.
Take those balls out of the freezer. (Cuz that’s just not sanitary.)
Dip them in the chocolate and set aside on wax paper.
After they are all dipped, you can drizzle white chocolate on them, or dark milk chocolate.
Now, you’ll have a Merrier Christmas than what you would have without these glorious Oreo Bon Bons.
Let’s all give the good Lord praise for addictive desserts like these. And all God’s children said? Amen.
I am a desperate housewife.
A word of advice:
Before entering a federal building, where three armed (and trigger happy) security guards wait all day long to see some “real action”, be sure to empty your pockets of guns and machetes. Oh, and make sure you also take out the box cutter you accidentally left in your right pocket. (Cuz that just don’t look good.)
I guess that’s more than one word, but you know how I babble on so.
Now you know.
I could complain. I could. But I won’t.
I could complain about the IRS. But I won’t.
I could complain about the weather. But I won’t.
I could complain about my children’s immune systems. But I won’t.
I could complain about endless poopy diapers. But I won’t.
I could complain about a bottomless sink of dirty dishes. But I won’t.
And you wonder why I haven’t posted.
