Dear Honey, this is your Mother speaking.

Thank you so much for the delicious dinner you made for your father and I last night. It was also so thoughtful of you to call me at 6:30 this morning to enquire about the state of our gastrointestinal health.  You went on to share that there may have been something in the food because your husband was suffering from the gastrointestinal version of Hiroshima. I immediately grabbed your father and woke him up screaming, “Dear God we’ve been poisoned”! He jumped out of bed in his whitie-tighties, hair standing on end, screaming Where?! Where?!?

I got your father calmed down, poor nervous soul that he is, and started a full morning of second guessing my every intestinal twinge for symptoms.

Your text message later in the morning: “Poor Marmot – he threw up so hard he had to go directly to the shower”.  A lengthy phone conversation followed discussing where to buy new bath mats and hand towels. Somehow I ended up on the phone with Marmot, advising him to exchange his boxer shorts for briefs stuffed with paper towels, for increased absorbency, in an effort to save the remainder of the bath linens his parents gave them for a wedding present.

Then your call few hours later- asking about the medicinal properties of  7-Up vs. Gatorade? I had to ask. “Really Honey, why are you calling me for this? Aren’t you invested by about $50k into a nurse practitioner program?” And my darling Honey informs me ….  “Well yes Mom, but it’s in women’s health – I specialize in crotches, not assholes”. 

By afternoon you too were home from work and spending quality time on the toilet. The next phone call … well I can’t even describe the phone call.  Please, just note: Aloe needs to be completely peeled before being applied to any irritated orifices.

The last text of the afternoon: “Code Brown, send reinforcements!” So being the loving mother that I am, I dispatched Left Brain to deliver a bag of Flushable Moist Wipes and Gatorade – but with strict instructions – “Do not go in, do not slow down, do not even make eye contact! We can still be infected”.

Your father called me after “the drop”.  He had thrown the bag of supplies into the snow drift in the front yard from his moving car.  “It looked like a hunched over bow-legged troll shuffled out into the yard to get the bag as I was driving away, is there some homeless person staying with them?”

I love you darling, but next time I’ll cook.

Queen B.

posted on March 5, 2012 in food, marmot, queen b.

So the doorbell rings – and my two dogs immediately go berserk. Which means its my mother – she does it on purpose because she thinks its hilarious, she calls it the dog bell. One of these days I’m going to open the door and slap her.

But I digress. This time, I opened the door and stood there, dumbfounded and gawking.

Standing in front of me is a mountain of red Norwegian wool. And some fur on the top. All I could see was her nose.

HB: Mother of God, its Mrs. Clause. What the hell are you wearing?

She lumbers into the house. Two mittened hands reach up towards the fur and try to pull the hood back, but without fingers she just manages to flail the fur collar around while I watch in total horror at the state of my gene pool.

After a full five minutes of flailing, I hear a distant shriek – Help me!

I wrestle the hood off her head, and the static charge reaches epic proportions – her grey hair stands straight up off her head.

I contemplated the most recent dog bell incident – and the insanity that has ensued the last twelve times she’s rung my doorbell and I couldn’t help myself. I shuffled my slippers across the carpeted floor towards her, and reached out to touch the end of her little red nose.


QB: You little shit, what did you do that for?

HB: You deserve it for that outfit, have I taught you nothing? What size is it??

QB: Its size Shut Up and Get Me Some Static Guard. This fur collar is generating some sort of electrical charge every time I put it on.

HB: Its God’s way of telling you its hideous and shouldn’t be worn.

QB: Do you like my muff?

HB: Mom, you need to never ever say that – and don’t Google it either.

Let me explain to you about the weather here in the Godforsaken Arctic Tundra. We have three temperatures – Almost Freezing, Freezing, and Freezing Your Ass Off. I find the older I get, the more it pisses me off that we live here – but never the less I do try to construct a tasteful look from Gore-Tex and polar fleece.

My mother however has taken a less fashionable route. I don’t care where the parka is made and by who, she looks like she’s wearing a sleeping bag, fur-trimmed.

QB: My new criteria for clothes. Its gotta be big. Its gotta be thick. Its gotta be long.

HB: Dear God, please tell me you’re still talking about polar fleece?

And so, the story ends – with the be-flanned red beast shuffling out the door, yelling over her shoulder…”The matching pack boots are on order!”

This is going to be a long winter folks.

posted on February 19, 2012 in queen b.

So – we went to Bath and Body Works. Or Bed Bath and Body Beyond as Queen B. calls it. Sometimes Bath and Potty Works. But I digress.

We went on a mission – a candle that will mask dog farts for my office, and a mini-hand lotion for Queen B’s purse. Heavy duty hand lotion because we live in the Godforsaken Arctic Tundra – no concern about greasy after-effect here, she would like something with the consistency of lard, and a better smell so that the dog quits licking her hands.

(She said she ran out of lotion two weeks ago, and I am sorry to report that I believe she’s using butter-flavored Crisco).

(I know this because she’s gone the Crisco route before. She read somewhere that it was good for cracked heels so she put it on her feet and then put wool socks on before bed. As the story goes, Dad put his back out by vaulting over the footboard into bed after seeing the can of Crisco on her nightstand.)

But I digress. Back to Bed Bath and Beyonce. After about five minutes of candle sniffing, we were high as kites and headed towards the back to look for lotion.

Standing shoulder to shoulder in front of a shelf of Brown Sugar and Vanilla scented lotions, Queen B. gives the tester a hearty pump and ends up with an overly generous pile of runny lotion in her hand.

QB: Oh gross, its watery – stick your hand out, I don’t want this much.

HB: <hands behind back> Hell no, I hate that scent. And it looks like semen.

QB: What are you, two? Give me your hands, I’ve got too much lotion! It smells great, nothing like semen.

HB: Omg Mom, have you smelled semen?? Wait – don’t answer that.


During this exchange, my mother is standing with a handful of lotion in one hand, the tester in another, and her purse hanging on her elbow. (And her new red parka which is another post that will be forthcoming, dedicated to Godforsaken Arctic Tundra Fashion Don’ts.)

QB: This is a different smell, its one you like.

HB: You don’t know what scents I like!

Queen B. then lifts her hand to her face to smell the lotion, no doubt in a mothering-reflex where you pretend to enjoy something so that your child will like it. Unfortunately she stuck her nose IN the lotion.

QB: Get over here. Get it off me! I have semen on my nose, get it off me! Get help, get a Kleenex!

So I run over to the sink and grab a paper towel, and being the helpful daughter that I am, I do a quick downward maneuver to get the semen lotion off my mother’s nose. However, I temporarily forgot that the anatomy below your nose is your mouth and rubbed the lotion across her mouth. And because the lotion did kind of smell like vanilla, she reflexively stuck her tongue out and licked her lips.

QB: Ahhh – ged it eff! Ah gad themen on my wips!

Being the helpful daughter I am, I immediately bent over laughing. (Side note – beans are cheap, and organic.) The unfortunate reaction to bending over was a change in intra-abdominal pressure and an accidental discharge of 100% organic gas.

Queen B. hears the discharge and starts to laugh, because the accidental discharge was unfortunately aimed directly at the unsuspecting teeny bopper in the Bath and Booby Works apron who had come to assist.

Queen B’s snort also resulted in more lotion up her nose, and she starts to gag.

Teeny Boobs: Can I help you find anything?

HB: <eyes averted> No thanks, we’re good!

I grabbed my mother’s arm and dragged her out of the store – we recovered with two coffees and scone. We’ve never liked that stupid store – who names a store Beyond Bath Works anyway?

posted on February 12, 2012 in queen b., shopping
by Honey B.
with 6 Comments

In case you were wondering, this is how Queen B. sings when she’s been drinking vodka fruit shooters.

posted on January 24, 2012 in queen b., Uncategorized

In the theme of our (newly adopted) organic living, we would like to share with you the making of real vanilla extract. Real vanilla extract is expensive, so we have been known to purchase to the cheaper version which is imitation vanilla extract, still $4 a bottle. However, the first ingredient is water, and the second is propylene glycol – what the hell is that? The eighteenth ingredient on the list, finally (after alcohol, which was the only ingredient we recognized) was ethyl vanillin.

So we decided to make our own vanilla. If Ethyl can make vanillin, so can we! And we’ll save tons of money!!

#1 – Buy vodka. As it turns out, newly-voted-member of the mission committee at church Queen B. hunkers down next to the floorboards of the truck, while Honey purchases two fifths of their best vodka. Current savings: -$34

#2 – Buy vanilla beans. Go to Good Food Store and purchase $28 of organic vanilla beans from Madagascar, along with various all-natural supplements to assist with weight-loss, and glass bottles (no doubt organic, because they’re in the Good Food Store) to put the vanilla in. Followed by lunch special of tofu egg salad made with vegan-aise, organic hokey-pokey, dried apricots from the bulk section, and a bag of raw milk cheese curds that were eaten while shopping. Current savings: -$136

#3 – drive to Queen B’s house because she has the tools – funnels, kitchen shears, and homemade brownies – in Honey’s 13 miles-to-the-gallon truck. Stop for gas on the way. Current savings: -$170

#4 – Sample the vodka for freshness. This involves closing all the blinds so that any other members of the church mission committee don’t witness it.

The church mission committee

#5 – Bottle the vodka with 4 vanilla beans in each jar until we run out of beans. What do we do with the extra vodka?

#6 – Sample a little more vodka, to celebrate our frugality and good sense to make our own vanilla. Toast the impending ruin of the propylene glycol farmers. We could probably sell our vanilla on Etsy. Toast our future success as entrepreneurs.

#7 – After some toasts, Queen B. admits that she was known for her vodka fruit shooters in college, and would like to pass down the traditional recipe for future generations.

#8 – Out comes the blender, and the perfecting of the recipe ensues. Oh Honey we really shouldn’t let this vodka go to waste, besides, we need to drink all the evidence before your father comes home. 

#9 – First try at fruit shooters. This is good stuff, but we need more pineapple juice.

#10 – Second try at fruit shooters. This is seriously yum, next batch needs more orange juice

#11 – Third try at fruit shooters. OMG this stuff is frickin’ amazing, add more vodka!

#12 – After six tries, we have the recipe just the way Queen B. thinks she remembers it.

#13 – Dad (Left Brain) calls on his way home from work, Queen B. gets the giggles and hands the phone to Honey who tells him to pick up Chinese because we’re too drunk to get anywhere near the stove to cook. Current savings: -$212

Bonus Feature: Queen B’s Perfected Fruit Shooter beverage, circa 1977.
Quantities are a little fuzzy, but we’re sure this is very close:

  • Half a can of frozen orange juice consentrate (although orange-mango or Orange-pineapple can be substituted)
  • 1 fifth of vodka
  • Coconut extract
  • 1 can of pineapple chunks in juice
  • Ice cubes
  • Lots of little plastic swords
  • Maraschino cherries (optional)

Pour your preferred quantities of OJ, vodka, and pineapple chunks in juice into the blender. Add a couple drops of coconut extract and ice, and blend until frothy. Stab pineapple chunks and cherries with plastic swords and add to the drink – if they land on the floor just throw them in anyway, the vodka will kill all the germs. Drink with a straw for additional effect (sucking all the vodka off the bottom).

Note – Change of business plan from Queen B. and Honey’s Etsy store – scratch selling vanilla extract, we’re going to sell frozen fruit shooter kits. This stuff is awesome!

PS – We were going to take a picture of what we did, Pinterest-style, but Queen B. wouldn’t get off the floor – she had her face plastered to the sliding glass door that had snow on the other side, trying to get rid of the gin blossoms before we took a picture, where she fell asleep.

posted on January 22, 2012 in frugality, me, organic, queen b.
by Honey B.
with 5 Comments

So last summer, I decided I wanted a new job. I’ve been in my current area for four years in March, and stagnation has set in! I start applying for jobs and hitting up every contact I had in my chosen area – the work paid off, and I am starting a new job tomorrow!

Its a very high-census ICU that has some majorly sick patients (hem/onc) which should be incredibly challenging. I’ve never worked intensive care – I’ve worked trauma surgery and on a step-down unit, but ICU is a whole new game for me. I’ve always said that my best days as a nurse could be described as hair-raising, but now that I think about it, I was young in those days and I drank a lot…lol

Passing the time waiting for a trauma case!

But anyway – I bought navy blue scrubs in size Tent and more of my favorite Smartwool socks, dug my white Birkenstocks out of the closet – and tomorrow is my first day! Cue the nervous diarrhea, and I’m crossing #19 off the list!

posted on January 17, 2012 in 101 in 1001, nurse, work

Max is our sweet Lab/Golden cross – when we adopted him five years ago, he was a spry 10 year old – but now at 16 his face has gone almost completely white, and he’s gotten arthritis in his back legs and hips. We’ve been worrying about his decline, as he’s had more trouble with the stairs and going from sitting to standing. He really liked his new memory foam bed, but he still was very stiff – so I decided that some how I would find a way for Max to get a massage.

Marmot and Max on Max's memory foam dog bed!

I had heard a rumor that there was someone in town who did canine massage, so I Googled it and found her, and she came out to the house a week later. She spent over an hour with him and the next day, he obviously felt fabulous because he was running in the yard again! We’re thinking that with how great he seemed to feel afterwards, we might do regular visits with her!

posted on January 11, 2012 in 101 in 1001, pets

So for #68, I wanted to go out to a nice restaurant with Marmot, and have the server take a picture. We went out for an anniversary dinner to a really nice seafood restaurant (oysters on the half shell, ooh la la!) and had an amazing dinner. And as a total romantic bonus, the couple one table over got engaged while we were having dessert. Totally adorable. :-)


posted on January 7, 2012 in 101 in 1001, us

I don’t know about you all- but for Queen B. and I, it is now that time of year again. The moment when we wake up from our Christmas-sugar-cookie-induced comas and realize that we’re fat asses. It usually comes up in a discussion a few days after Christmas, sitting at Mom’s kitchen table, eating the remains of the Christmas baking frenzy. We start the discussion with a review of past diet disasters, ending with a decision on which way to go this year.

We realized this year that between the two of us, we’ve been on every diet known to man. So as a public service, we are going to share our vast knowledge in order to help you decide which diet to do for 2012.


HB: Well that is the diet of cheese, and I love cheese.

QB: Except that cheese binds you up, and you only lose weight when you poop.

HB: Yeah, and its a doozy when you do. Like make sure you’re at home, its going to be a three-flush incident.

QB: Oh no, you can’t poop at a friend’s house when you’re on Atkins. If you’re going to clog a toilet, you want to do that at home. In fact you should just carry the plunger with you every time you go to the bathroom, just to be safe.

HB: But on the plus side, its all-you-can-eat bacon.

QB: But after a couple tries on Atkins, you can burn out on bacon. Heed my warning, because I’m off bacon until at least 2014.

HB: And don’t forget the carb withdrawals, I wanted bread so bad that I would have eaten cardboard if it was dipped in sugar.

QB: But remember the sugar-free gum? I ate three packs of it in a day and had a bowel malfunction.


Weight Watchers

QB: Oh yes, this is my personal favorite.

HB: Until you go to the meeting, and someone gets a lifetime award for losing 12lbs.

QB: Anybody can lose 12lbs. I had a 12lb bowel movement on Atkins once.

HB: Well I’m still paying the monthly fee that I signed up for last year if you want to go again this year.

QB: Why do you have to pay even if you don’t lose weight? There should be a money-back guarantee. If you gain weight, they give you the judge-y face.

HB: Oh yeah, that time you gained 8lbs in a week. Judgmental bitches.

QB: It was fruit! They did NOT say that fruit in syrup is not actually fruit. I had 14 cans of peaches in heavy syrup, and drank the syrup. I was being healthy!

HB: Well I can’t afford to go anymore unless they start giving credit for buying crap. I have the measuring cups, scales, cookbooks, granola bars the size of postage stamps, water jugs. I have an entire Weight Watchers room in the basement.


Grapefruit and Cabbage Diet

HB: Did you know if you eat too much grapefruit, that the acid will burn your bum hole when you poop?

QB: That’s if you poop. When I tried it the gas got so bad from the cabbage, I was afraid to bend over and risk shooting grapefruit seeds out my ass like a machine gun.

HB: And the canker sores from the acid, its no joke. I had canker face.

QB: I didn’t want to say it then Honey, but you looked like a walking herpes outbreak.



HB: I looked at the food online once, and have been psycho called by their customer service department for a year and a half.

QB: That food isn’t even real. I had one of their ho-ho’s, which I think was actually plastic.

HB: Oh Mother, that’s because you were binge-eating next weeks food in the middle of the night and ate the ho-ho with the wrapper still on it.

QB: Is that what that was?



QB: I can’t afford Alli, unless we’re going to cover all the furniture with plastic. Last time you did Alli, I had to buy a new office chair.

HB: Ohhhhh, the office chair. Well my thinking was, if taking one Alli pill was good, taking two is better right? And I had gas….. But it wasn’t gas.

QB: Yeah think again. You ruined my office chair! You were popping Alli like candy, ripped one, and next thing you know we were dropping the office chair off in a midnight Goodwill stealth donation.

HB: The best part about Alli is going off of it, you can once again fart confidently.


HCG Diet

HB: The only good thing about that diet is the loading days where you eat yourself sick, on purpose.

QB: Five hundred calories a day is insanity! I can pick that many calories out of my teeth after a meal.

HB: That was the diet that you called me crying from the couch because you couldn’t eat anything and all the joy had been sucked out of your life.

QB: Speaking of sucking, we should do liposuction.

HB: Remember that liposuction cream that I had an allergic reaction to?

QB: That was Preparation H.


So this years decision is……..drumroll please……..we’re going all-organic. Stay tuned.

posted on January 5, 2012 in dieting, food, queen b.
by Honey B.
with 2 Comments

I am honestly shocked that Marmot and I have been married for four years. Not because I didn’t think we would last this long (although there have been moments- hah!) but because it seems like we just got married. But I look back at these pictures and it just cracks me up! Don’t you ever wish you could go back and clue yourself in?? Actually now that I think about it, nahh. That blissful face is just too cute, and really, the realities of cleaning whiskers out of the sink will come soon enough. :-)

posted on January 4, 2012 in marriage