Look Ma, I Is Domesticatedtion

This afternoon, I honed in on my homemaking skills. I took pride in being a woman. I practiced the art of familial nurture.

Then I decided I was done and yelled at my kids to go to bed so I could write this post.

I love tomatoes. Wait, I'm blogging. I should say it like this: I.love.tomatoes. or
I heart tomatoes.

I love tomato soup. I.love.tomato.soup. I've grown up eating the campbells version out of a can, (with milk, cuz water is ew) and was oblivious that homemade tomato soup was an option. A few months back, a crafty friend of mine posted a recipe for tomato soup she had made for her family. I was intrigued and decided to try it out. It did not go over well; Clint said it was a little to "healthy tasting". I suppose he was correct, since it was missing the artificial red look and tin metal taste of the canned version. The recipe didn't use milk, so it was truly a healthier tomato soup. I thoroughly enjoyed it, but agreed that since he is not a tomato lover, and egad, the soup actually tasted like tomatoes, it was not a viable dinner to add to our rotation.

But then I came across this website and found a different recipe for homemade tomato soup that looked delish, and it called for a whopping 2 cups of heavy whipping cream. I figured it would be safe to attempt again, which I did tonight. Oh, how yum it was.

Jaylee's (actually, this lady's) Yummy Tomato Soup

3 lbs of vine-ripened tomatoes
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cups tomato juice (not V8, it actually needs to say tomato juice)
1 cup cooking sherry (haven't you heard? The alcohol cooks out. I think... Crap. Don't tell my bishop)
3 T white sugar
1 bouillon cube (the website I got this from used gluten free bouillon. I'm just waiting for the day they come up with gluten free gluten (oh, by the way, I used 2 cubes because I like the extra flavor, and guess what - they weren't gluten free))
2 T chopped fresh basil
It's fun to change the colors

Use a 5-6 quart crock pot. Wash all your tomatoes and cut into quarters and place them in your crockpot.

Here is a picture of all of my tomatoes placed in my crock pot in case you had any questions as to how the tomatoes should look when they are placed in your crock pot because sometimes people want to see pictures of tomatoes in crockpots

No need to peel them. Add the onion and then cover with tomato juice, sherry, bouillon, sugar, and basil. Stir, cover, and cook on low heat for 6-8 hours.

You can leave it chunky, but my dinner table must be "chunk free", so I blended the soup in small batches and placed it into a sieve for some extra smoothness. Then I blended again what didn't make it through the sieve, and it all went back into the crockpot. Now if you're not careful, and think to yourself "but when I make my smoothies, I fill the blender up to the top and there are no problems", please take a look at my shirt and pants:

I actually had one of those moments that you see in the movies where the top of the blender shoots up and the contents are splattered across your wall. Some also landed in my toaster. How the heck am I supposed to clean that out? I think it exploded because of some heat differential being more buoyant than the air particles, and the blender atoms couldn't contain that amount of centrifugal force for the duration of the liquefy cycle, so the fluidity of the soup couldn't occupy the same space because an object in motion stays in motion and an object at rest stays at rest unless acted upon by an outside force. Or, something like that. Seriously, small batches is the name of the game.

Moving on, after your soup is liquid enough, add 2 cups of heavy cream and stir. I added a bunch of shakes from my kosher salt box (maybe 10?) so you should only add 5 since you're normal.

Here are the end results

I don't have the setting on my camera that makes your food look visibly appetizing (like my crafty friend has), so just take my word for it. It.was.good. I hearted it. My family hearted it to. Also, it made a load of soup, so next time I'll freeze half of it. I can't with this batch because (and correct me if I'm wrong) previously frozen milk based soups do not make for decent meals. So, next time I'll add enough cream for our personal servings, and freeze the remainder of the un-creamed soup. I'm sure I'll be making this recipe again (you've seen the size of my farm).

But wait, there's MORE!

I made cookies! That's two somethings in one day! I can barely do 1 something. The recipe is here if you want it. They were a little too rich for my Dorito loving palate, so I probably won't be making these again. Here's a trick for these cookies. When you're creaming the peanut butter and cream cheese together, don't pull the cord far away from the outlet because you may pull the cord out while you're creaming the ingredients, and you may set the hand held mixer up right, and you may plug the cord back in, and you just may end up witnessing another splattering of your walls because you didn't turn the blender off before you plugged it back in, and you'll see the pieces fly everywhere, but not be able to find them until you arrive at your in-laws house to borrow some cinnamon, and they chuckle because you have tomato soup all over your clothes and creamed filling in your hair.

Also, make sure you use both beaters because you may spend 5 minutes wondering why the heck it's not creaming before realizing you've been one beater shy the entire time.

Viola! Jumbo Honey Roasted Peanut Butter Cookie Sandwiches (just typing the name added 100 calories to my hips)

From the website www.howtobealazyparentandstillenrich
yourchildslifebydoingtheabsoluteminimumin
100simpleactivites.com, number 28 - "Make sure your child licks a beater at least once in their life. The choice is yours whether to give them the second beater or not. Better get them used to disappointment now instead of later."

Nuggets of wisdom, from my home to yours.

Ack, there's also a finale! Pie! I made a pie! And if you've been wondering about my Apple Pie in a Bag recipe, I do actually use a bag.

I'm domesticated out.

Labor Day '08

Last week, I was speaking to my mother, letting her know that we would be camping over the Labor Day weekend. She scoffed and asked me why Clint makes me go camping when I don't enjoy it. I explained to her that I enjoy certain aspects of camping, but overall, no, it's not my preference to spend three days peeing on a fallen tree and picking bark out of the back of my thighs. After speaking with her, I realized that I should let Clint know how I felt about this hobby of his. I'm not sure what my true intentions were for speaking up; I think I was trying to passive aggressively tell him "See! See what I do for you because I love you!? See the sacrifices I make so that you can take part in what you deem to be "a relaxing vacation" but what I see as a "bark in my butt" adventure?" We sat down to discuss our trip, and I ended up disclosing my closely guarded feelings about camping. I told Clint that I really don't like to go camping, and could think of no fewer than 7 things I'd rather do over the Labor Day weekend. He promptly told me he didn't believe me because each time we had gone in the past, he knew I had a great time. I guess my tolerable attitude towards the entire event lead him to believe that I was roaring to go every time.

I should be more clear about the certain aspects of enjoyment I was referring to. They are, in no particular order, the food and the family. I tolerate the camping so that I can eat all day long (our food while camping is gourmetish), and laugh my butt off at Draney antics. But, I feel strongly that the amount of work performed while camping far exceeds the amount of relaxation that occurs. Now, I should be clear; most of the work isn't performed by me. Clint does the set up, take down, and the other abundant manly chores, and my MIL does most of the meal preparation. I'm usually in charge of keeping the camping chairs warm, or delegating tasks, which usually takes place from said camping chairs.

So, here's a quick run down of my weekend. You tell me if I'm right in my beliefs, or if I'm just a big whiny sack of poo.





This picture was taken from a moving car, which accounts for the blurriness.

It took us 40 minutes to drive 5 miles. It could have been avoided if we had packed lighter which would have helped us to leave before 5pm, but instead, it took us 3 hours to pack; I bring EVERYTHING since being in the middle of the woods 40 minutes away from the nearest store makes me feel like I have NOTHING. Clint's all for camping with whatever he can carry on his back, but he's had to make certain concessions for me and my suburban ways. I'll never understand those campers who strap on their chacos, pocket a granola bar, and call themselves ready.

Our campsite was a 30 minute drive off a dirt/jagged rock road which was not intended by God to be driven upon. We forged ahead and created our own campsite where no man had set foot before. Okay, I'll admit it was very nice to not worry that I'd run into another neighboring camper while doing my business.

After we arrived, which was around 9pm Friday night, Clint immediately started to set up shop. I asked him to hand me the suitcase that housed all of our clothing so I could put a jacket on Emma. Clint's face held a look of terror; he had forgotten to pack the suitcase. Conveniently though, Clint's backpack, which held his own clothing, was located amongst our belongings. Friday night was spent sleeping in our clothing we had worn that day.

Saturday was beautiful. Unfortunately, Clint and I were not able to enjoy the beauty of the day from the vantage point of the woods. Our morning was spent driving back out on the dirt road, that God did not intend to be driven on, to go purchase clothing for myself and my children.

4 hours later (yes, 4 HOURS!), we were back at our campsite, having driven back on the dirt road that God did not intend to be driven on, with Walmart sweat suits, underwear, socks, shoes, pants, jackets, etc. It was very tough to spend money on this pair of shoes.

Heck, it was hard to spend money on any of the items we bought. I had purchased for myself one shirt and a pair of jeans, both of which I knew I would not wear again. In the end, I wore the pants, shirt, and socks I arrived in, all weekend long so that I could return the unworn merchandise. I willed myself to deal with the stench of 3 day old pants, which had turned into a collage of many different patterns, weaving their way across my legs and lap, mostly consisting of Asher's nose drippage.

Okay, I do have to admit that Saturday afternoon was gorgeous and relaxing. Our dutch oven dinner and dessert were heavenly. Fine, 1 point to camping.

And then the rain came.

Saturday night was spent with the plink plink plink of rain all night long on our tent. We stayed warm and dry, and after waking Sunday morning, we were planning to hang out in our tent for awhile and wait for the storm to pass. It didn't pass, and about 10 minutes after waking, our tent started leaking. Rain had started to come in from the top and bottom of our tent. We quickly folded our blankets and sleeping bags, all the while yelling at our kids to stop playing in the water because they were going to get their socks wet and I didn't want to open up the package of socks I had purchased for Emma because I wanted my money back, and in my haste to leave Walmart, I had forgotten to purchase socks for Asher.

Sunday morning was spent in my SIL's pop up watching The Incredibles (they camp in style), while the rain continued on and on until I wanted to shove crickets in my ears so that I would have something new to listen to.

We did eventually brave the elements to spend some time underneath tarps.

Though, I do have to give 1 more point to camping because breakfast and lunch were fabulous. I'm telling you, food is a large motivator for me. I'll poo in the woods if you make me a breakfast burrito.

Ugg, I'll also admit that Sunday afternoon, after the rain let up, was lovely and relaxing. It was so much fun to watch Asher follow his cousins around and act goofy with them. It's much easier in that aspect than being home. It wasn't necessary to entertain him; he was contented to just run around. That was a great highlight. The filth wasn't.

Honestly though, the real reason I deal with the hassle of camping is because of the pure, unadulterated laughter that flows so easily all weekend long. The main reason I go camping is encapsulated in this one picture.

We ended up leaving late Sunday night since we did not have a functional tent. I'm sure Clint could have figured something out in the way of leak proofing it, but he was sweet/smart enough not to suggest it.


I guess, begrudgingly, I have to admit that I liked camping.



But don't tell Clint I said that.

If you've got a second, look over these pages. It's a form of the telephone game. Each person has a piece of paper to start out with, and they write a saying, quote, etc on the top of the page. The paper is then passed to the right, and that person has to then draw out what the saying, quote, etc means on the paper they've just received from their neighbor. The paper is then folded over so that the saying, quote, etc is hidden, and the paper is again passed to the right. At that point, all you have is a picture that is supposed to be descriptive enough so you can figure out what the original saying, quote, etc. was. You write down your best guess, fold the paper over so that the picture is now hidden, and pass it again to your right. It will then be passed around, and continuously folded over, until you have your own paper back in your hands. After sharing with each other what crazy interpretations we came up with, I think I laughed so hard a little bit of pee came out.



I sure have used pee and poo quite a few times in this post.

Landscaping Woes

For obvious reasons, Clint's favorite subject is landscaping. My favorite subject is me. So, when we actually sit down to discuss landscaping, it goes something like this -

"Jaylee, what features should we design into our backyard?" Clint asks.
"I have a girls night out tomorrow night. You're babysitting," I respond.
"Jaylee, landscaping is about combining beauty with function. I need to know what's important to us so that I can incorporate it into my plans," Clint says.
"Will you put lotion on my feet?" I respond.
"Jaylee, focus. We have a large backyard and a great opportunity to incorporate many different elements. Please tell me what you consider important to you," a frustrated Clint replies.

Bingo. Now it's about what I want.

"Here," I say as I grab a nearby note card, "this is what I want."









I'm a simple girl.



As the weeks went by, progress was made in our yard. The sprinklers were installed, a new sewer line was laid, and it soon came time to build my dream garden, which was, according to my specifications above, to be located in the back right hand corner, and of a squareish shape. Some how, Clint translated my squarish shaped garden into this -















The first time I walked out there and saw the monstrosity of this area, I freaked out.
"That's not what I designed! I designed a garden of squarish shape in the back right hand corner! What the freak is this! I can't garden in this! It's way too big! All I really want are a few tomatoes and maybe a cucumber or carrot! I can't garden in this!" I yell, as the exclamation marks so clearly state. I was feeling a bit of anxiety over the gigantic proportions of my new garden area, overwhelmed that I was now expected to 'farm' in this plot of land. I don't even own a garden trowel, let alone a tractor that was now needed to plant my crops. I want to experiment to see if gardening is something I'm interested in. Now I have to go to ASU and major in agriculture. Seriously, what if I hate gardening? What if the picture in my head of me in my gardening chaps, lovingling picking out weeds and singing to my lettuce while Asher plays next to me on the grass with his watering can is un-realistic? Will it be more like me in my stained jeans, yanking out weeds with my blistered hands, swearing at my lettuce because I spent so long planting it and it hasn't sprouted yet, while Asher is climbing in the garden area, grinding my onion seedlings back into the dirt, all the while in 110 degree weather?

"But I showed you the plans," Clint says.

Here are the plans Clint showed me-









Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think in circles. I think in pretty, penciled in pictures, with arrows pointing to what's what. When he showed this to me, I got crossed eyed and mumbled something about it being fine. So, that was my stamp of approval, the garden was built, and now my new career will be selling produce on the corner. Please honk your horn and wave as you pass by.


(Does anyone see my swing set designed into the above picture? Where's my errant tree?)

My Letter to Emma and Asher

August 12th, 2025

Dear Emma and Asher - Hi guys! How are you doing today? I Love You.

This is somewhat difficult to write, but I feel a need to attach some type of evidence that you did, in fact, participate in most of the standard activities that should occur in a child's lifetime.

I just received some upsetting news, and it appears that I am being blamed for some ongoing anger issues you're both dealing with. Let me just say that I'm shocked and confused that I in any way contributed to your neuroses. I just chalked it up to coincidence that you both have had similar psychiatric diagnosis and happen to be on the same dosage of meds.

I truly did my best to create an enjoyable atmosphere for you to grow up in, but it seemed you tired quickly of trips to Mervyns to watch me try on shoes, and even though I called a day of errands a mommy/daughter/son date, you acted as though you didn't want me to call you back the next morning. After many years of trial and error, I did some searching and came across, what I would venture to call my saving grace, a website entitled www.howtobealazyparentandstillenrichyourchildslifeby
doingtheabsoluteminimumin100simpleactivites.com. It was a lifesaver while raising you little turkeys (come up with a nick name for your child/children was number 54). These pictures attached are number 32, which nagged me for quite some time since I did not have the means to create an atmosphere where you, indeed, could make mud pies. Hooray for a rainy Sunday and a landscaper husband who finally cleared out our backyard! I'm hoping that this letter will suffice for you and your therapist to decide to drop your lawsuit. I just received the summons in the mail along with your unpaid therapy bills and a note from Dr. Zhivago stating that after treating you both, I am being held responsible to pay for your 249 sessions you received from him, the electroshock therapy, and the lobotomies. So, I'm doing what I have done your entire childhood: refer to The List. I'm sorry Emma that I missed number 17 and we didn't get the opportunity to weave pony manes into dozens of tiny braids, or number 70 Asher, which was dress you in a shirt that had a dump truck on it and the phrase "I LIKE TRUCKS!". Asher, as you well know, because I told you every day of your existence, except for today because I haven't spoken with you yet on the phone, I wanted you to be a girl. That's why I dressed you in tutus and headbands, and not shirts that said "Boys will be Boys" with a picture of a boy coloring all over his mother's newly painted walls. But don't you remember number 15 when we flew a kite? I'm sorry there wasn't an actual breeze that day, and maybe if we had waited a bit longer than 7 minutes it would have gotten into the air, but I was really vying to check something off that week, plus my DVR que was full and I had to hurry in and watch at least an hour long show to be able to accommodate all that I had scheduled to record that night. Okay, what about number 43? It was a fun 5 minutes when I taught you both how to tie your shoes. Again, I've already apologized for it many times, but how was I to know that wearing velcro through the 7th grade was cause for embarrassment? I thought 5 minutes was plenty of time to devote to that activity. Remember when we cuddled that one day? Remember when I played half a game of Candyland with you? Remember when you said "I Love You Momma" and I said "Me Too"?

Okay, maybe I'll pay half.

Ya'll Can Breath a Sigh of Relief --- They're Back

After a sprinkle of comments were left that I looked like an umpa loompa in my comical set of pictures, I decided I would go onto flickr and change them to a black and white format. My limited flickr skills obviously shone forth since I dim-wittedly deleted the old pictures from flickr, and with there being some kind of important and necessary link to an actual picture, they were deleted from my last posting, which is no fun at all.

So, without trepidation, I'm posting the improved versions of my yellow umpa loompa pictures. How do you know I wasn't going for an umpa loompa look?

I'm taking a re-vote, so, back by popular demand, making their colorless, slightly umpa loompaless debut, with commentary and all, somewhere in this mess of shameless material, I present to you (with some surprise additions), my future profile picture -




1. This is my current profile picture. I think it does a pretty good job at getting the point across that I think my blog is a joke and don't take me too seriously.








2. This one looks like Clint just poignantly pontificated and I'm saying with my body language that I'm listening and I think I like what he's saying, but please, continue on with your pontification so that I can further assess my position on the topic.








3. This is my favorite face to make at Clint because, with really tight ucky looking lips, I beg and plead for him to kiss me. He doesn't.








4. See, now this one looks like I'm bragging about the amount of hair I have.








5. Ahh, my favorite face to make. What's not to like? I'm smiling and my eyes look bright and colorful. Also, it's a good security picture as it shows I'm not red eyed and doped up.








6. "Oh Clint, you're just so funny. I love it when you poignantly pontificate. Please, continue on. While I'm listening to you wax poetic about your miter saw, I'll just sit back and listen, all the while tilting my head to one side and demurely smiling at you."








7. Okay, now can you see why Clint has such a complex about my chameleon-like facial expressions? This one is priceless. Best one yet.







This little gem was overlooked and not in my previous post, so here is number

8. It's like Gene Simmons and the Joker had a love child






9. Funky Funky Fresh Psychedelic Jaylee





Again, same rules apply when voting or not voting. I wonder if anyone thought I had taken them off my blog because somehow my dignity returned and I was feeling remorse for showcasing this little freak show. Sadly, dignity is not one of the names my other 10 personalities go by.

Thanks H. for the shout out to my new profile picture. Several months ago, I was having a security background check performed on me (that almost sounds kinky) for a job I had applied for, and was required to send in a snapshot so they could more accurately witness whom they were dealing with. I guess they were making sure I was actually of a white trash origin, like the checked box clearly stated, and not of some other infidelic creed. I had Clint take a few, but for some unknown reason (to bug Clint), I kept making stupid faces right before he snapped the picture. He actually squirms and looks away when I construe my face; ergo, I'm a consistent face construerer (welcome to Jaylee's blog, where your learn a new word every day!). It's my sad little way to get a reaction out of him. However, I understand his disgust at anything outside of the normal realm of my appearance. Back when we were dating, for Halloween he dressed up as a woman, complete with mumu, wig and lipstick, and I could not look at or speak to him while in he was in drag. It was weird and uncomfortable for me to see him like that because I could not find the cute boy I liked underneath his Revlon Creamy Coral lipstick. I spent most of the night away from him because I was so creeped out. So, cut the guy a break, right? Anyway, I'm taking suggestions as to what to use as a profile picture. I have a few to choose from, some good, some not so good.





1. This is my current profile picture. I think it does a pretty good job at getting the point across that I think my blog is a joke and don't take me too seriously.









2. This one looks like Clint just poignantly pontificated and I'm saying with my body language that I'm listening and I think I like what he's saying, but please, continue on with your pontification so that I can further assess my position on the topic.








3. This is my favorite face to make at Clint because, with really tight ucky looking lips, I beg and plead for him to kiss me. He doesn't.








4. See, now this one looks like I'm bragging about the amount of hair I have.








5. Ahh, my favorite face to make. What's not to like? I'm smiling and my eyes look bright and colorful. Also, it's a good security picture as it shows I'm not red eyed and doped up.








6. "Oh Clint, you're just so funny. I love it when you poignantly pontificate. Please, continue on. While I'm listening to you wax poetic about your miter saw, I'll just sit back and listen, all the while tilting my head to one side and demurely smiling at you."








7. Okay, now can you see why Clint has such a complex about my chameleon-like facial expressions? This one is priceless. Best one yet.




In summation, if you prefer a picture, please leave a comment with it's corresponding number. If you could care less what I put as a profile picture, but you still won't be ousting me from your feed reader, please also leave a comment letting me know that you're letting this post slide. I will admit I have a bit of a complex about the quality of my postings and sometimes feel like the only girl in existence who would post such unflattering pictures of myself. But, I'm crazy to think that, right? Right?



On a side note, I think it would be beneficial for me to put a cap on my use of parenthesis in one post. I'm not sure why I'm so prone to use them (Yes I do, it's to help me from going off into tangents because (true story) my brain functions like this (if my brain were a picture, it would be a speech bubble with a bunch of tiny speech bubble friends all attached) and it helps keep me in check so that I don't start going on about why my brain chemistry = high probable outcome of being abnormal) and I'm sure it's becoming annoying to see.

"A loaf of bread, a container of milk, and a sticka butta" - Sesame Street

Do your husbands ever call you from the grocery store on the way home from somewhere and ask you if you need them to grab anything? Mine does. He's very helpful without being asked to be helpful. Do your husbands arrive home an hour later then was necessary to pick up milk and bread? Mine does. He's very helpful when he's at the store and picks up things that I didn't even request. Do your husbands purchase things that you have never and would never purchase for your family? Mine does. Like collard greens for instance. You can't have enough collard greens. Anyone have any good collard greens recipes?