I had no idea just how hormonal pregnancy would make me. In fact, I probably give all other pregnant women a bad name because of my behavior. I do get extra weepy at things, which is just kind of cute and amusing, I suppose. I do crave food, although not necessarily weird combinations - I've stuck with the classics, like my mom's Creamed Chipped Beef over toast. No, no, those things are all fine. It's the Crankypants hormone that got jacked up to a 10 when I decided to get knocked up. Witness the carnage:
My name has been and can be a target for song references, references that the singer finds so extremely funny and I find merely... annoying. I'll admit, I'm not as unlucky as some, but I can hardly recall any time in my life when I wasn't sung to about a red-headed orphan who hits the foster parent jackpot. Just when I thought I was safe, when the lil' orphan songs were dying out, I have a couple of people who I know who found a new song for me. I hate to even bring it up the new song, because it might inspire a new round of singing and irritation, but let's just say that the pop star who first penned the song is not a rough criminal (with a sparkly glove) but a smooth one. And if you know the song, you know where my name comes in. Repeatedly. So yes, a couple of coworkers latched on to this, and they sing it to me (individually) every time I see them. Repeatedly. It was a little funny at first, but then I got visibly tired of it, and everyone else around us - who also had to hear it repeatedly - started saying that it wasn't funny anymore, including one doctor who said, "Dude - that's kind of old, okay?". I asked when they would stop doing this, because it was annoying. No luck. One of them even told other people, "Oh, she hates it when we do that" with this huge goofy grin (????). I was driving to work Tuesday night, and the thought of another night at work listening to that one line of song, over and over, while the singer snickered in delight at my uncomfortable squirming, and I started to fume. And fume. And fume some more. I probably had smoke coming out of my ears when I got to work. Sure enough, not 10 minutes into my shift, there it comes. Right as I was getting report and realizing I had another crazy night of even crazier patients ahead of me. I stopped my coworker, on the verge of tears and red-faced, and told her to please, STOP already, before I get seriously mad. Because it wasn't funny anymore, I was tired of it and so was everyone else, and would she PLEASE go sing songs to other people about their names and not mine, because I just couldn't take it any more. She looked at me in total surprise, said that she had NO idea I was that bothered by it (????), and walked away. Oh dear. Civil coolness and a complete lack of interaction for the rest of the night. I was grateful to not have to hear that stupid song any more, but I don't really like pissing off coworkers, either, particularly not ones who can bench-press me ten times over. I had good intentions to calmly ask for no more singing... and somehow, my Nice Filter went right out the door. Ugh.
I wish I could say that was an isolated incident, but I'm pretty sure I could easily round up several other people who got the Preggo Foo out of nowhere from me. People who have NOT tried to make me uncomfortable, but who were just minding their own business (or worse, trying to be nice to me, like my husband was last night) and I went all Foo-ish on them for no reason. Why are you telling me how to drive? (Uh, so we don't crash, Anne.) Why are you interrupting me in my important work? (You're on Facebook. Again. Here's the home-cooked dinner you wanted.) Why are you BREATHING???? (My body makes me. Plus, I don't enjoy asphyxiation much.)
As a peace offering to everyone - because you all have witnessed it, surely - I give my mom's lovely Creamed Chipped Beef recipe. It's not a family original or particularly gourmet, but it's the kind of creamy, carby, stomach-filling stuff that shuts a crazy lady like me up when the Foo starts. Other people say it tastes good, too. We used to eat this a lot for breakfast when I was younger. It's pretty basic in composition, so there's endless options for variety and tinkering for those of you gourmands who like to add spices and new ingredients and stuff, so have fun. Here you go:
Creamed Chipped Beef
Serves 4-6 (depends on how hungry you are)
1 stick butter
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
4 cups milk (anything but skim works great)
2 egg yolks (optional)
2 - 2 oz pkgs sliced beef, chopped into small squares (I use Buddig - deli aisle, next to the hot dogs)
salt
pepper
Melt the butter in a pot over medium heat, then add in the flour, stirring constantly to make a roux. After about 2-3 minutes of stirring and bubbling, the roux will darken a little bit and take on a nuttier aroma - all the raw flour taste is now cooked out. Stirring constantly, add in your milk. Keep on medium heat, stirring frequently (be sure to get the sides/bottom), for another 3-5 minutes. Mixture will thicken. When at desired consistency (gravy-ish), take off the heat. If you want the protein and added richness, whisk in the two egg yolks - stir quickly so the egg doesn't "cook". Add in your chopped beef. Don't worry if the beef goes in clumpy - just keep stirring and it breaks up nicely. Salt and pepper to taste. This tastes really good served over sourdough toast, but it's also quite yummy on its own. For just me and Jason to eat this, I halve the recipe - works well.
Note: Buddig makes good sliced beef. They also make turkey, ham, honey ham, chicken, and corned beef. I have never tried this recipe with anything other than the sliced beef, but I imagine that any of those would be pretty good.
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