Any lady who waited in line at Wal-mart guisied up in her Queen Amadala get-up at midnight on the night the final DVD of the Star Wars saga was released isn't too proud and prissy to celebrate sci-fi style! (Does it make it sound better or worse if I say that I was dressed like that anyway and just decided not to change?)

Here's how we get all nerdy and awkward for MAY the FOURTH at the d'Evegnee Death Star!

This started out as Lind Lasagna and then morphed into Mock Lasagna and then became Pasta the Hut, which like its namesake, is founded on principles of gluttony and laziness. I put this little baby together when I don't feel like cooking, and it can be frozen (in carbonite to be saved by a domestic princess in disguise at a later date) beautifully.

Here's all it takes:

1 box of pasta, cooked (we like whole wheat pasta because it makes us feel special)

1 can pasta sauce (we like the canned kind that doesn't have sugar in it; see above)

8 ounces cheese of your choice (you know I like the part-skim mozarella)

1 cup cottage cheese

1/2-1 cup of low fat sour cream (depending on how much creaminess you like)

1 pound cooked ground turkey or lean beef

Dump it all in a pan, cover it with a little extra cheese and Zee-OOM! You're on your way to the dinner table faster than the millenium falcon with x-wing fighters on its tail! Just cook at 350 for about 45 minutes.

Volume VI, issue iv, April 2010

We grabbed this photo op when the sun was out one day this month. This picture was the best of the bunch, which tells you what kind of high-quality shots the other ones were! (PS Where is Holden's right shoe?)

Library of Con-dress

Reigning chaos constantly swirls around our house, leaving sticky spots, trails of toys, randomly abandoned single socks, and bellowing children in its wake, which makes it difficult to find any peace, let alone thoughts to call one's own. (It sounds like the lead-in to an advertisement for a swanky, tropical time-share, doesn't it?) Caleb, who turned eight on the 30th, is the least loud-mouthed of our brood, but is also our most consistently cheerful, which means he's often helping with the younger kids rather than demanding attention. (Marie calls him "Bug," which just melts away all of your internal organs.) Sometimes, though, even our easy-going Caleb has to creatively carve out some "me time"

A few weeks ago, I noticed that Caleb kept magically disappearing, Narnia-like, into our pathetically barren cedar closet for quite long chunks of time, only to emerge looking refreshed and ready to tackle another brother or sister (yes, literally). Later, when I peeked my head into the closet, I glimpsed a pair of bare, gangly legs draped from the top shelf and a gleeful smile beaming down from near the ceiling. When I asked Caleb what he was doing, he informed me that he had made the closet into his "library."

He had clearly posted the rules and regulations of his domain, such as the cost of a Library Card for only two cents. He even rigged up a bucket with a string tied to it to be filled with the desired reading material and then gracefully lowered down to any anxious patrons. He also posted the fees for fines on the door to the closet/library. (And he knows all about fines because the Madison Libary is currently building the Sarah d'Evegnee Late Fee Wing on to their new structure. Each summer I naively/stupidly convince myself that I can handle taking all six kids to the library regularly for the summer reading program, and when I bravely lead my little ducklings clutching their seventeen books a piece to the check-out desk, all of the librarians collectively brace themselves for the large wads of cash coming their way.)

Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater

Springtime Sell Out

We can belt out "The Sunnull Come Out, Tomorrow!" as loud as we want, and it just plain isn't true around these parts. Ethan, Caleb, and Eve decided that 40 degree weather was perfect for setting up a Lemonade Stand, but they were not only short on sunshine, but business funds as well. No problem. They decided to sell our tap water for ten cents a glass (C'mon. It's packed with fluoride. And Rexburg 2010 is a very good year). Then Ethan's friend raided his Mom's cupboards for packages of crackers, granola bars, and nuts that they sold for only a dollar a package. (Oh. But it was buy one, get one free, so it wasn't as pricey as it initially sounds.) Their profit margin was pretty high, considering that they stole all of their inventory.

Being the self-selected brains of the company, Ethan sent the "talent" to the corner to hold up a sign advertising their little set-up. As I drove around the corner after class, I saw Eve standing all alone on the street corner, rosy cheeked and shivering in the wind, waving the sign and looking adorably orphaned. Eric calmly said to Ethan, "You can't make your baby sister stand alone all the way down the street!" Ethan just blinked innocently and said, "But Dad! We made five dollars!"

I have to admit that Eve's pure charisma more than compensates for Ethan's lack of moral scruples, at least as far as street vending is concerned. Eve has no problem approaching complete strangers and offering them a smile or a little observation about life, complete with dramatic hand gestures and facial expressions. After skyping with our family for a few minutes a couple of weeks ago and listening to Eve chatter away, Eric's Uncle Jack observed, "I can see you've got an actress, but do you have a point guard?"

Holden Down the Fort

Holden is our straight-arrow, and usually leads his younger siblings with dignity and just a smidge of manipulation. To prepare them to see the new Percy Jackson flick, Holden gathered the younger kids into his room and gave them free mythology lessons, which he described to me in detail. I thought it was inspiring and all, but I'm more than happy to let him cough up the money for all of the tickets if he wants to see it that badly before the DVD is released. (We still haven't seen the movie, despite Holden's preparatory and hopeful lecture series.)

We instigated a rule that the kids can only watch one hour of TV on school days. Eric and I wondered how they seemed to be maximizing their alloted brain-rotting time, until he went down to the basement and overheard Holden frantically whispering to his siblings, "It's a commercial--close your eyes and it won't count!"

The Fall of Eve

In Eve's kindergarten's recent Circus Program, she played a graceful tight-rope walker whose mother told her she wouldn't slip on the tightrope/balance beam if she took off her shoes. Oops. I was playing the piano for the program and Eric was shooting the video footage, so rather than reaching out to our fallen star, we just dumbly sat there. If you watch the video clip, you can hear the gasping parent who obviously cares for our daughter more than we do. You can also clearly see her teacher help her up because her Mom is still playing the piano and her Dad is still filming. You can even hear the awkward pause in my playing as I debate whether to keep playing or to help my struggling performer and then you can watch as I continue tinkling those ivories as my wounded daughter sits and cries on the step. I can't decide if I should just erase this clip so she doesn't see it when she's sixteen and scream at me that I never really loved her.

She's Simply Two Much!

Feeling pulled apart and mushy inside today. If you feel like bawling, just watch the video from the celebratory post from exactly one year ago.

Click here: http://rexburgreview.blogspot.com/2009/04/celebrating-our-miracle-marie.html

I Have a Pest-o Problem

When I purchased some basil, our well-stocked small-town grocery store only had the massive family-sized container left. Seriously, what kind of normal person needs that much basil?

I realized that I did (although I am arguably not exactly normal) when I was staring at the gobs of leftovers from the bruschetta and thought about how much I love pesto but never make it because I never have that much basil on hand.

I had never even laid a taste-bud on pesto until I met Eric and, for me, it was an acquired taste. But once I acquired it, I never looked back. Normal pesto is pretty strong because of the large quantity of basil involved, so I started thinking about what else is green and leafy and might complement the basil flavor while toning it down a few notches. Spinach! My kids love spinach and will eat it plain, so I figured they might give a spinach pesto a try.

We had it on Sunday with whole wheat angel hair pasta and grilled chicken and they all devoured it (except for Peter and he doesn't count). I doubled the pesto recipe because Eric could eat it plain with a spoon and never get enough. As I looked at how much pesto we had to spare and eyed the extra piece of chicken still left that the boys were about to dive into for their fourth helping, I decided that I wanted to try making Pesto and Grilled Chicken pizza the next night. I had to fight for it and nearly got maimed in the process, but Eric and I are still swooning over it. (We are ridiculously foodie-ish, I know.)


Spinach and Basil Pesto with Angel Hair Pasta and Grilled Chicken

Marinade: (I'm guessing on the measurements a little--I just eyeballed it and added what sounded good. If you're super lazy like I am most of the time, you can just marinate it in zesty italian dressing.)
2 t minced garlic
2 t brown mustard
4 T lemon juice
3 t Italian Seasoning
1/4 cup minced red onion
1/4 cup balsalmic vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil

Mix well. Tenderize (with a fork) and marinate 4-6 chicken breasts in a freezer bag for 6-8 hours. Grill chicken for 7-10 minutes on each side or until juices run clear.

Spinach and Basil Pesto
1 1/2 cups baby spinach leaves
3/4 cup fresh basil leaves
1/2 cup toasted pine nuts
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
4 cloves garlic, peeled and quartered or 3 t. minced garlic or 2 t garlic salt (which will make it less strong for your kids)
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice (or LIME juice--it is so good! That's what I did this last time)
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest (optional--I almost always forget to buy the stupid lemon)
1/4-1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil (depending on how think you like your pesto)

Blend the spinach, basil, pine nuts, Parmesan cheese, garlic, salt, pepper, lemon juice, lemon zest, and 2 tablespoons olive oil in a food processor until nearly smooth, scraping the sides of the bowl with a spatula as necessary. Drizzle the remaining olive oil into the mixture while processing until smooth.

Serve pesto over whole wheat angel hair pasta with shaved parmesan on top and grilled chicken on the side.



Wheat-ish Pizza Dough

(The basic recipe is my friend, Kimber's recipe, with a few modifications)
1 T yeast
11/2 cups warm water
1 t sugar

Let sit for a few minutes in a big plastic bowl until you get a nice froth.

Add:
1 1/2 cups white flour and 1 1/2 cups wheat flour
1 t salt
1 T sugar
2 T olive oil
Extra water as needed (when you use the whole wheat flour, you need to add about 1/2 cup extra water to get the desired consistency. If you use all white flour, then you probably won't need the extra water.)

Mix together until you get an elastic-like dough that pulls away from the side of your dish. It will be a little sticky.

Let rise for one hour. Punch down dough and let rise for another thirty minutes. (You could probably get away with less rise time, but this is the way I like it. The original recipe only calls for 10-15 minutes of rise time, so if you're in a hurry, go for it.)

Add a little flour to the dough and to your hands so it's easier to work with. You can roll it out in a circle with a rolling pin or just spread it on your pizza pan and then make indentations with your finger tips all over the dough.

For "normal people" pizza, add tomato sauce and sprinkle garlic salt and italian seasonings over sauce. Add toppings and italian cheese blend. Our favorites are meatball pizza and turkey pepperoni (I have a good recipe for meatballs if you want it. I double the recipe so we can have spaghetti and meatballs one night and then meatball pizza and breadsticks the next.)

For Pesto Pizza, spread about 3/4 cup of pesto over crust. Add pieces of grilled chicken and top with italian blend cheese. Bake for about 30 minutes at 350 or until the edges of the crust are browned. (We like to broil ours for the last minute, but be careful that you don't burn it to a charred crisp!)

Fancy Breadstick Sticks

I've never even been to the Pizza Factory. At least, I don't think I have. If I did go, it wasn't very memorable then, was it? Apparently they have breadsticks there that they make on dowels and serve in vases. My RS President served them at a dinner at her house and I knew I had to try them. She told me the basics and then I guessed the rest and added my own topping.

Soak 1/4 inch dowels in water for several hours. (I just put them in a 9x13 pan full of water and put a bowl on top of them to hold them down.)
Roll out about one-half batch of pizza dough (recipe above) in a 9 x 13 rectangle and use pizza cutter to cut into one inch strips.
Wrap one strip of dough around each dry dowel and place on cookie sheet. Let rise for 30 minutes. Brush on butter topping.

Butter topping:
1/2 cube better, melted
3 t dried minced onion
2 t dill weed
2 t italian seasoning
4 T parmesean cheese

Let sit for about ten minutes to let flavors meld. Spread over breadsticks with a pastry brush. Sprinkle extra parmesean cheese over breadsticks.

Bake for 10-12 minutes or until lightly browned. Turn them around the half-way mark so you don't have a flat side in your vases later. Let cool and serve in the biggest clear vase you have lying around or get your husband to buy you a big ole' bunch of flowers and take the flowers out and use that vase (personally, I prefer Gerber daisies). This recipe will make about 12-15 sticks, depending on how big your dowels are.

Volume VI, issue iii March 2010

The Irish Jig is Up

The kids' slack-jawed response at being reminded that they are a bona-fide one quarter Irish was only the preface to our St Patrick's Day festivities. Holden was so thrilled that he was determined to rub in his genuine Irish descent to all of those unfortunate Nelson and Klingler and Thompson and completely non-Irish-blooded kids at school who don't have holidays with pinching involved in their genes. (WE LOVE YOU, DEVINE FAMILY!!!)


Their part-Irish eyes were doing more than smiling when they breezed in from school and smelled the corned beef and cabbage that had been happily bubbling away like some Celtic tune in the kitchen all day long. They devoured every scrap, leaving their poor Swiss-German mother with no leftovers to look forward to for lunch the next day.

Notice Ethan's greedy mitt in the corner of the roll picture and Eric's protective knife above it.
(We really are a peaceful people. . . unless food is involved.)









Some Day My Caleb Will Come: The Second Grade Fairy Tale Ball


Caleb had been painfully rehearsing the Teton Stomp and the Waltz for days during PE in preparation for the Annual Second Grade Fairy Tale Ball, but forgot to ask me to help him with his costume until the night before the event. I smiled at Eric and said, "If you've got to have a costume in a hurry, you've come to the right house!" It took me about seven seconds of digging through our graveyard of Halloween costumes in the storage room to transform Super Woman's crown, Han Solo's Jedi Robe, and Alladin's Genie's golden belt into a costume fit for a king.


King Caleb's misery at having to dance with cootie-infested girls was not masked in the least as he mouthed the one, two, three of each waltz through the grimace on his royal face. The only time he smiled was when he got to dance with his sweet Princess Marie who was swept off her chubby feet by her older brother, whom she refers to as "Bug." Unfortunately, her clothes also got swept off in the festive mood and I had to hurry and redress her issues before we got kicked out of the kingdom for immodesty.















I Love Paris in the PARTY-TIME!

Truthfully, Eve's 6-year-old birthday party had been years in the making. When I was seventeen and stood in the shadow of the graceful lines of the Eiffel Tower for the first time, the feeling of artful elegance in the presence of those stately spires was destined to make its way into a party some day.


Eve and six of her friends received Paris Party Passports and a Boarding Pass for Princess Airlines' round-trip to Party-Town flying out of the d'Evegnee Airport. The hours of party preparation were enough to give all of us a collective blast of pre-party jet-lag as my poor sous-party-planners helped to make our house into a Parisian paradise, but to their chagrin and my somewhat evil delight, it was all worth it.






We finished off our French-couture inspired skirts (by we, I mean "I" because "I" was extremely naive about how difficile threading elastic through a waist-band was for little fingers), beaded french bracelets, learned French, ate fondu, and ran around and shrieked until the grown-ups came to pick us up (Eric being my "grown up" and, in my case, by "pick up" I mean scoop up off the floor). I say we and I mean OUI! I think I had more fun than any of the petites filles and they had beaucoup de fun! I still haven't wiped the satisfied French smirk off of my face. And I still pretentiously use French vocabulaire in everyday conversations for no reason whatsoever.
They are five and six year olds, but they knew how to pose like French models beyond their years.

Volume VI, issue ii February 2010

What d'Evegnee Girls are Made of :

The Spice

We've been warned about the sugar. We love the sugar! I can totally handle the sugar.

But how about the much-less-mentioned stuff hidden in there between the sweet stuff and the "everything nice?"

For us, the spice is not a mild mixture of parsley and sage (or rosemary and thyme, Mr Garfunkel!) It is more like a lip-numbing, burning blend of cayenne and cumin and ginger.

Our "little" Marie is a Viking in diapers. She thunders around the house in her Nordic-like fur-trimmed Robeez and we stand back and fear and tremble. If I stuff her, sausage-like, into her 12-18 month attire, it stretches across her bulbous belly, looking like it will tear apart as she bellows with Hulk-ish rage (minues the whole turning green thing).

As I was doing damage control (aka cleaning) yesterday, Marie enthusiastically emptied the contents of a bag of tortilla chips on the floor. Before I could rush over to my trusty broom, I could hear her shuffly, low-to-the-ground run and spied the dismount of her stunt just as she slid baseball style into the chips on her stomach. She then hoisted herself up and did a rather charming cha-cha through the chips, beaming as she savored each crunch.

I've heard of playing with your food. . . but dancing with it?

After I had swept up the dancefloor and finished the dishes, I let Marie play with the water in the sink as I wiped down the counters, and she contentedly dumped water from one cup into another for a few minutes. When I looked back at her, she had her head under the steam of water, gurgling merrily before she stood up and shuddered as it streamed down her face.

On Eve's birthday, I got a call from her teacher. Nervous that the cake pops I had sent for her birthday treat had contained a hidden surprise, my heart did a little flip as I answered the phone. If Marie is a Viking, Eve is a proper French Princess. She exhibits a tad of royal entitlement, but she also possesses enough savoir faire to have bourgeois manners to match. Naturally I was surprised when her teacher told me about Eve's "meltdown" at school.

During "Carpet Time" Eve wasn't participating in the sound-blending game as much as her teacher thought was appropriate, so she sent her out in the hall to practice her sounds with the teacher's aide. At first Eve refused, but then reluctantly complied. Later, her teacher decided to have a tete-a-tete about her less-than-agreeable behavior and Eve was royally unhappy about being singled out.

Her teacher said to her, "Eve, what's the problem?"

Eve glared back at her and growled, "You're the problem!"

Luckily her teacher said she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, but I was stunned at Eve's bravado. Her teacher is a patient, angelic soul who was able to work out the kinks in Eve's attitude, but I've chosen denial (for now) about the light this little vignette sheds on what our now six-year-old will be like in a few years.

We Got Game

Our basketball bildungsroman came full circle yesterday when we played our original nemesis for the finale of the 5th grade 2010 season. They had mercilessly wiped the court with our city-league jerseys in the first game, but our team had grown since then. . . at least we thought they had.

Our (I said our. I AM part of the team. I'm the one that paid the fee, okay?) over-confident opponents strutted onto the court, saying things like, "We're going to SMOKE you!"

Ever heard of a little ditty called, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes," fellas?

I once again found myself shrieking much louder and much more often than I ever do, with my heart pounding as if I were watching my son play for the State Finals.

We were up by at least four for most of the game, but found ourselves behind by one with only minutes left. There was a crucial jump-ball which should have been ours, but which the refs gave to the other team. Eric excitedly approached the refs, waving his arms and only slightly raising his voice (wink, wink). I had been so proud of him for maintaining his "Idaho Eric" facade for the whole season. But in that moment "New York Eric" was choosing to make his presence known. I could see the gleam in his eyes.

Taking an extremely, passive-aggressive wifey approach, I cheerfully yelled out, "Calm down, coach!"

He heard me and he did calm down. At least until an elderly spectator told him to, "Just sit down!"

New York Eric spun around and said to the man, "They made the wrong call! Calm down, old man!"

To his credit, that's all Eric dished out, but then he came and knelt by me and whispered, "I was fine until Old Man Winter had to butt in."

Luckily for the refs, our team, and Old Man Winter, our team was able to clinch the victory in the last two minutes. In the victory huddle, Eric's players told him that the other team was undefeated. . .

UNTIL NOW, BABY!!!

I'm such a gracious winner! (But at least I'm a winner, baby!)

I have never been a girl who is easily tickled pink. When I was younger, I never wore pink and I didn't especially like lace or pearls. Even in my betrothed state, I wandered anxiously from bridal shop to bridal shop looking for something lace-free, only to have matronly women in layers of pastel eye shadows cluck at me, "Oh my! Of course you want lace, dear!" Finally, I helped a more open-minded seamstress design a plain, forward-thinking, empire waisted beauty for my wedding that complemented the plain gold band on my finger and my sleek up-do.

This Valentine's Day Season (yes. . . I said season), though, I have been craving the sickly sweet hues of pastel pink in every variety from blush to rose to salmon without a second thought. Eve and I have been both assembling and creating love-themed ensembles that have been shamelessly covered in hearts, rick-rack, and raging sentimentality for weeks. The above photo literally doesn't even give a glimpse at the half of our festive fun--she's looked like a living, breathing, smiling, adorably cute greeting card every day for weeks. I even got in on the nauseatingly sugar-coated pastel action today and wore a pink sweater to church today like a proper, normal girl. Hey. I do have a feminine side.

Poor Eve was suffering in Church today. By the end of Sacrament Meeting, she made a pained face at Eric and sighed. He asked her what was wrong and she said, "I'm bored."

Eric told her that the speakers were doing their best to share their feelings about Jesus and that she should try and listen to them. Then he leaned in close and whispered to her, "Besides, when we get home I have a special Valentine's Day present for you!"

Eve remained unfazed.

She just looked at her doting Dad and said, "Still bored."

Stalk Photo

Since last night, I have found roses in unlikely places. There was one taped to my bathroom mirror. And one perched precariously on a door. Another was found lying across my pillow. Tonight, I found a whole vase full. But I jumped at the sight of them because they were accompanied by a creepy-looking blade and if I didn't know any better I'd think that I was being stalked.

He was so sweet to notice that I needed a new kitchen knife. But did he have to recreate a scene from some horror movie to give the gift?

One of the blessings of having a husband with a dark sense of humor is hearing the stories that follow his errands of love. When he approached the cashier with his stash of soft petals in one hand and his heavy knife in the other, he wanted to gnash his teeth and growl at her madly while frothing just slightly at the mouth, "Ya think she'll like it?"

His and Hers

Eric bought me a Snuggie for Christmas as a joke, but it has kept me toasty on many a frigid, Rexburg night. As of today, Eric and I are a matched set.

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad Lib World

Lately after we deposit the "littles" (aka Peter and Marie) in bed, Eric and I have been doing Mad Libs from a book with the older kids. It feels like we've been tranported back to some kinder, gentler era when kids could be entertained by the wacky hi-jinx of the parts of speech. The kids cackle and grab their sides and beg us to do just one more each night. Today we created our own special d'Evegnee Valentine's Day Special Mad Lib :

It is Valentine’s Day and all of the d’Evegnees are super­ ­ adjective The thing they love about Valentine’s Day is giving each other plural noun and plural noun They give each other gifts and say , “ I verb you!”

Mom always looks deep into Dad’s ­­­ noun and says, “I will always remember the day we were first ­ adjective .” It is so romantic! Holden says when he gets married, his Valentine will have long, dark plural noun ­ and will love­­­ noun . Ethan, however, prefers girls who ­ verb and hopes for a girl who looks like­ noun . Caleb’s ideal Valentine will be a talented noun who enjoys­ verb . When Eve gets older, she would love to find a guy who appreciates her ­ noun and will take her to the noun . Peter really wants to marry someone who knows how to­ verb and has ­ plural noun that look like­ noun . Marie’s future sweetheart will have a ­ noun of­ noun and will have a gift for ing verb .

For now, though, we are so ­ adjective to have so many sweethearts in our family, and love how we can verb together on this special day. We wish you all a ­ adjective Valentine’s Day, full noun of and noun !

Here's how it turned out:

It is Valentine’s Day and all of the d’Evegnees are super­ nauseous. The thing they love about Valentine’s Day is giving each other cupids and kelp. They give each other gifts and say , “ I screech you!”

Mom always looks deep into Dad’s teeth and says, “I will always remember the day we were first constipated.” It is so romantic! Holden says when he gets married, his Valentine will have long, dark large intestines and will love socks. Ethan, however, prefers girls who walk and hopes for a girl who looks like­ hair . Caleb’s ideal Valentine will be a talented port-a-potty who enjoys agitating. When Eve gets older, she would love to find a guy who appreciates her helicopter and will take her to the basketball . Peter really wants to marry someone who knows how to do hair and has ­ nose hairs that look like­ anvils . Marie’s future sweetheart will have a ­ toe of­ duck and will have a gift for spanking .

For now, though, we are so ­ jolly to have so many sweethearts in our family, and love how we can skip together on this special day. We wish you all a ­smelly Valentine’s Day, full TV of and rainbows !

Valentine's Day Recipes

Thai Lettuce Wraps

5-6 chicken breasts

Soy and ginger marinade (recipe follows)

Iceburg lettuce, cored and cut into quarters

Cucumbers, peeled and sliced into quarters

Carrots, shredded

Water chestnuts, cut into chunks

Peanut sauce (recipe follows)

Ken's Steakhouse Lite Soy and Ginger dressing

Tenderize chicken breasts by poking with a fork on each side (this is especially satisfying if you're irked by something). Marinate chicken for 6-8 hours:

Soy and Ginger Marinade:

2 t ginger

3 T minced onion

2 T minced garlic

5 T lemon juice

1/4 cup soy sauce

1 cup Italian dressing

Grill chicken for 8-10 minutes on each side or until juices run clear. Let sit for ten minutes before cutting into chunks.

Peanut Sauce:

3 T peanut butter (can use all natural, sugar free)

1/4 cup warm water

3T soy sauce

1/2 t cayenne

1 T brown sugar (optional)

Heat in microwave for one minute and stir. If it seems too runny, it will thicken up, so wait a minute or two before adding more water. You can also add 2 T rice wine vinegar and 4 T coconut milk, but this is the basic recipe I usually use. I add more or less peanut butter and water depending on how thick I want it.

Cut chicken into chunks and put chicken and veggies on a platter. To assemble wraps, put chicken, veggies, peanut sauce, and dressing onto a lettuce "cup." Fold lettuce cup in half and devour! We also serve with some version of Asian rice to help the kids fill up faster.

Cookie Dough

3/4 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup white sugar

2 cubes butter, softened

2 eggs

2 t vanilla

1 t baking soda

1 t salt

2 1/2 cups flour

1 pkg chocolate chips (we like semi sweet)

Cream butter and sugars and then add vanilla and eggs. Add flour, salt, and baking soda. Mix in chocolate chips.

Press 1/4 cup dough into ramekins or muffin tins (we like to make them in muffin tins if we're taking them to someone). Bake for 13-15 minutes or until top is lightly browned.

Let cookie cups cool. Top with vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, and whipped cream and try not to go into sugar shock!