I know I said I’d never do this, but I have to share this recipe with ya’ll. I’m addicted to it. My mother used to make it for me when I’d drop by after I became a vegan. I didn’t know her recipe, but this is pretty darn close to it (hers didn’t have black beans in it).

Note: I use sprouted beans, but you’re welcome to use canned organic, or cook some and let them cool.

Ingredients
1/2 onion, chopped
1 green bell pepper, chopped
1 bunch green onions, chopped
2 jalapeno peppers, chopped
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 pint cherry tomatoes, quartered
1 (8 ounce) bottle zesty Italian dressing
1 (15 ounce) can black beans, drained
1 (15 ounce) can black-eyed peas, drained
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1 bunch chopped fresh cilantro

Directions
1. In a large bowl, mix together onion, green bell pepper, green onions, jalapeno peppers, garlic, cherry tomatoes, zesty Italian dressing, black beans, black-eyed peas and coriander. Cover and chill in the refrigerator approximately 2 hours. Toss with desired amount of fresh cilantro to serve.
Nutritional Information
Amount Per Serving  Calories: 21 | Total Fat: 1.3g | Cholesterol: 0mg

via All Recipes

I’m working on *another* funeral program. I’m becoming a go to person for that, so that’s good, but it’s also sad, because well … someone had to die.  In happier news, I’m designing the logo for Lil’ Wayne’s drummer, Keenan G. Ephriam. That should be fun! I was even able to link him with the best publicist on the planet — Sasha at Helio PR.

Manager-wise, I’m prepping Mooch’s taxes and doing bank reconciliations for her. I have to get thirty more of her headshots to her agent (15 theatrical and 15 commercial). Her resume is updated, but I really need to update her website and mine. I added an page about each of the family members under the “About” section, but things need revising and such (especially Hannibal’s page).

I’m working it out. It’s a lot! Especially since I’ve been going to bed between 9 and 10pm every night. That doesn’t leave much time in the day, but I’m well rested, though.

Her classes at William Grant Still Center begin this week, so we’re excited about that. She’ll be doing keyboard, voice, Shakespeare in the City, and art. It’s only a nine week program, but if she likes any of them enough, we’ll continue them at a paid program, I guess. This is just a free sampling.

She’s also finding new hobbies during her punishment — like face painting.  I walked out to this last Sunday:

Fuss’ classroom closet just got an overhaul. It looks great! My hallway doesn’t, though. :-/ I’m throwing/giving a lot of things that are developmentally inappropriate away since I’m not spawning anymore young ones. I further organized all of the supplies and left tons of room for new stuff, so it doesn’t get too jam packed.

The pouring activity finally returned to the shelves this week, so she was thrilled about that. She was so excited that she accidentally spilled lentils all over the place. She cleaned them up. I moved the alphabetized small objects out of the closet and into the classroom and told her that now that she knows all of her letters, she can pull a couple of sandpaper letters down and carry the corresponding drawers to her mat. She likes having that access.

Also on our shelves: the number five with manipulative, a geometric puzzle, the pink tower, cutting with scissors (she won’t let that one go ), one-to-one correspondence, and a couple of animal puzzles. Oh, I changed our calendar area a couple of weeks ago. Here’s a picture of that. I may return to the felt, though, because it was easier for *her* to put the dates up all by herself.

Hannibal carried the globe around a candle in our living room thirty-nine times symbolizing this last trip around the sun. He got super dizzy, so we’ve vowed that people over fifteen in this house would not have this as part of their birthday tradition. He says that I *have* to do it this year at thirty-one, because I cackled at him the whole time and made him finish.

We had wonderful cupcakes from JAM Vegan Bakery. They are the best on the planet! Trust me. Mooch bought Hannibal a Transformer with her own little money. I got him clothes, because his clothes are … I got him clothes. If you missed the birthday weekend blog, we went Chicago Stepping.

The final celebration of Hannibal’s birthday was a trip to Medieval Times the weekend after his birthday. It was exciting and the food was good, but all I could think about animal cruelty and slow fight choreography. I don’t really have time to go into details, so check the photos below.

Hilarious! Plus I got all my friends hired. Lol

Also, I shouldn’t make up titles when I’m sleepy.

Just when Facebook got super boring, it got interesting again! I’m in like 10 private groups now. That is totally the way to go. That main newsfeed? Screw that noise. Who wants to read that garbage? I’m in a group about black parenting, one about body image, one about marriage, one about crafting, one about education methods, one about scuba diving (don’t ask), and one about politics. I’ve been on Facebook more than Pinterest this week. It’s crazy! I know, right? That is all.

This has been a week of paperwork, paper cuts, and douche-baggery.

I had to fill out a mountain of paperwork and sell my spleen, because Mooch is SAG and that means a million puppies would die if I didn’t get her into the union by today. That last bit of hyperbole should be interpreted as such: The Toyota commercial was the final straw. SAG said she better join … or else.

Then yesterday all of our tax info finally came, so I had to organize everything in preparation to file. This has to be rushed to meet Mooch’s financial aid requirements. I am ragged from paper work.

I’m also building one client’s site from the ground up and designing other random items in the interim. I’m tired, but our bills are paid, the hard work is paying off, and Mooch is in the union! Yay!

The Command Center is finished! It’s sooo cute and, therefore, inspiring. It really makes the kids want to pick up a broom and do a chore. Here are the pics:

Close ups in the gallery below

There’s a calendar for our monthly menu (that’ll start February 1st). Right now it just has key dates and events to remember. There is also a homemade dry erase board containing each person’s morning and evening schedules, a mailbox for each of us and a chore chart. I added a few photos to embellish, and one can’t help but stare at the wall when walking by.

MOOCH

Mooch has had ups and downs in the last week. She shot a Toyota commercial and did extraordinarily well. I was super proud. It was my first time seeing her really work lines and comedic timing. She also took direction well, and I can’t wait to see the finished product.

Saturday night, however, when Hannibal and I went Chicago Steppin’ for his birthday, Mooch acted out with the baby sitter. She was rude (read: snatching the phone from the sitter’s hand and asking if the caller was her boyfriend). She even made up a bunch of lies. For example, “My mom always lets me take a bath with my sister” and “she lets me wash her, too.” This resulted in Mooch pouring water all over an excited Fuss and almost drowning her by accident. She played Glee Karaoke on the Wii with the sitter and wouldn’t let the sitter sing her songs. It was awful. To add icing she stated, “I bet you’re only baby sitting us for the money.”

Let’s be clear. Mooch loves the sitter. She is always so enthused that they’ll be able to play and read together. I think she just got a little beside herself. Anyway, Mooch is not allowed to watch TV or play video games for four weeks. She also wrote a three paged letter to the sitter and had to read it to her in front of her family. Lastly, we made Mooch pay the sitter by taking the contents of her piggy bank to CoinStar. We simply could not let her believe this behavior was acceptable.

FUSS

Fuss is super helpful around the house. She cleans up. She puts things away. She offers support. She is even doing a very good job taking care of her fish and her plant. I really like how she is turning out.

Lately, unless she super sleepy or hungry, I haven’t had the issue of her going from zero to tantrum in less than two seconds. She’s using her humongous vocabulary to express herself. I added a feelings poster to the first wall of the classroom, and that has helped tremendously. She is able to identify the various feelings as they are happening. Sometimes she confuses the tenses or just plain mixes up the words, but we get what she’s trying to say. For example, she’ll often say, “I’m mean. I’m mean right now.” She really means she’s angry. It is very clear, though.

Academically, she’s been very interested in her abacus for the past couple of weeks. She uses it to count, and she usually stops at about thirty-five and moves on to something else. We count everything throughout the day (steps, utensils, beans, people in a room, tires on the car), and she thoroughly enjoys this. None of her classroom experiences have decreased her interests in technology (read: Hannibal’s ipad and my phone), but she is definitely very balanced between the two, and I think that’s just fine.

“You want to build the foundation. Then you can add the style and flavor. Once you have the foundation, you can do this dance for a lifetime and always come up with new combinations — new ways to move together.”

When I led a timid, confused Hannibal onto the glossy hardwood floor of a surprise “Urban Ballroom” dance lesson, I expected to lock hands, get into the groove, and learn — you know, kinesthetically. It turned out that everyone usually arrives a little late, so we ended up getting a fairly private lesson. I could feel my impatience boiling beneath the surface of my forced smile as the instructor talked and talked before we even got to do the first step.

Then I put my excitement on pause, and really tried to live in the moment. Maybe this fast talking, middle-aged cat from the south side of Chicago had a message that I could apply off of the dance floor. He never made any assumptions, nor did he reference marriage at any point, but the tools necessary to carry out “steppin’” gracefully seemed to parallel those of a relationship so well — once I got over trying to hurry up and get my boogie on.

“Relax your shoulder.” “Let him lead.” “Live in the pauses.” “Trust your partner.”

While Hannibal focused on my waist and nearly busted two blood vessels in his forehead trying to stay on count, I had my own set of issues. I had to fight back my desire to take over and turn that “mutha” out, not break into the cha-cha, relax my elbow on my turn, keep the beat with my feet like a metronome, and somehow enjoy myself in the process. Umm … yeah. My hips still hurt just thinking about it. Did I mention that I wore 5 inch zebra print heels trying to be cute?

Sometimes marriage is like that. Each party is doing their own thing, and even though they are communicating, they forget to enjoy the pauses. The trust gets muddied when we think, “Well, I know she slips in this area, so let me just pick up the slack for her without even letting her know what I’m about to do” or “He doesn’t do this part as well as I do, so let me put some of my expertise on it for him, even though it might cause him to accidentally stumble in another area.” In both the dance and the relationship, we are each in control of our respective areas, and we must maintain that while still being aware of the other’s responsibilities. It’s all enough to make a person get too nervous and just sit down, but while managing all of the aspects, both parties have to look and feel relaxed. Let’s just say, I became aware early in the lesson that Hannibal and I are still very much newlyweds — both on the dance floor and in our daily lives.

The amazing thing is that we actually did learn a lot of dancing! He was building the foundation with both lecture and kinesthetics. While it wasn’t necessarily the way I would have delivered the lesson, I learned so much more than Chicago Steppin’. The teacher had achieved his goal of “not building a house of cards,” and he even managed to teach us a few turns. By the last half hour, we were sent onto the floor to practice our new technique alongside the intermediate/advanced latecomers. I’m not sure I’ve mastered “staying in my lane” (in any aspect of my live), but we had a lot of fun laughing at ourselves and feeling on each other.

Staring at Hannibal’s pelvis for two hours wasn’t bad either.