Crock pot March: Mexican layer casserole

Sorry for the unintentional hiatus.  I've been having some technical difficulties.  Life's rough when you live in a house full of gadgets and you don't know how to run them without your husband's help.

Last week, I decided to make blogging more of a priority.  I sat down at my computer and began to write a post, but my computer actually shut down on me and wouldn’t turn back on.  Before you roll your eyes at me and remind me that Tots is actually a ‘computer guy,’ you should know he was away at the state basketball tournament, so I was completely on my own.  

Lucky for us both, he’s back now and my computer is working.  I would be lying if I told you he performed some sort of voodoo magic to fix it; I’m a little embarrassed to admit that it was actually an issue with the power cord and the degree to which it was connected and conducting electricity.*  Whatever.

March is finally here and it’s busy already; I knew this would happen when I decided on my resolutions, and that’s why I made this my crock pot month.  I chose Friday night for my crock pot night this week because an effortless meal sounded like a good way to kick off my weekend.

Because it was Friday, it had to be a meatless meal so I picked one of my favorites: a layered Mexican casserole.  This recipe is so good, I actually didn’t even notice that the meat was missing.  All you need is:

2 (15 ½ oz) cans of hominy drained

1 (15 oz) can of black beans, rinsed and drined

1 (14 ½ oz) can diced tomatos with garlic, basil and oregano, undrained

1 cup of chunky salsa

1 (6 oz) can of tomato paste

½ tsp ground cumin

3 large flour tortillas

2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese

¼ cup sliced black olives

First, you need to prep your crock pot.  Spray it down with a non-stick spray (or use crock pot liners), and then tear three 18 x 4 in strips of heavy duty tinfoil.  Lay the strips across each other, and fan them out so it looks like a snowflake.  Press the strips down into the crock pot, leaving the ends hanging up out of the top of the crock pot, creating handles.

 Mix the hominy, beans, tomatoes with juice, salsa, tomato paste, and cumin.  Press one tortilla into the bottom of your crock pot, and then dump 1/3 of the hominy mixture onto it and 1/3 of your cheese.  Repeat the layers, lasagna-style, and cook it 6-8 hours on low (or 2-3 hours on high).  When you’re ready to eat it, the foil handles make it easy to get out of the crock pot.

There you have it, an easy, Lenten-approved crock pot meal.  Let me know what you think if you try this.  Do you have a favorite crock pot recipe?  You know I’m always looking for more, post it in the comments!

*Yes, it was plugged in.  I’m not an idiot.  It just wasn’t plugged all the way in.

26.

As some of you might know, I celebrated a birthday yesterday.  I think it was a big one; I’m now closer to 30 than 20.  My friends must realize I’m maturing, too.  This is the first year I can remember (probably not coincidentally) that I didn’t receive a single gift of cheap booze and fast food.  Here’s to 26.  Maybe this is the year I quit thinking of myself as a 19-year-old.

Farmhouse Glam and New Country?

If you haven’t already figured this out about me, my tastes and preferences are moving targets.  One day I love bold and bright, and the next I’m all about the classic black and white.  Some days I feel like rocking, and the other days I need some twang (PS, if you’re the same way and you need a happy medium—or maybe even something completely different—check out Good Show Great Show).  The only thing that stays the same (besides constant change) is my past; the memories I treasure and the places that have brought me comfort.

As I’ve expressed before, this makes putting together a wardrobe and decorating my home a nightmare.  If you’ve read about my resolutions, you know that this is the year that I’m finally making my home my own, so of course, I’ve been giving style and preferences a lot of thought lately.  I’ll be writing in detail about my home makeover in June, but because I knew it would be no small task, I actually started thinking and working in January.

After sleepless nights (and when I was sleeping, I was dreaming of rugs, end tables, and curtains), hours of staring at my Pinterest boards and feeling like I was running in circles, I decided to go about the process a little differently.  I decided to forget all about the furniture, colors, lines, and textures.  Forget about the existing styles (am I more contemporary?  Traditional?  Classic?  Cottage?  What the hell is transitional, anyway?), and go with the one thing that never changes: my past.

Everyone has a happy place.  For some, maybe it’s a relaxing beach scene where nobody around you speaks a word of English.  Maybe some feel more at home overlooking a beautiful cityscape, or the mountains.  I remember finding my “happy place,” when I started dealing with anxiety in grade school.  I tried imagining all of the different places I had been and all of the places I hoped to visit someday, but the place that always made me feel the safest and the most relaxed was the hay loft of my grandparents’ old barn.  Yes, my happy place is a barn.  I’m a true Nebraskan, aren’t I? :)

A close second for me is the lake.  If you’ve been to a lake in Nebraska, you know I’m not talking about anything like Lake Tahoe.  This isn’t the lake with Nantucket-style timeshare cabins and Rangerovers everywhere; the water is muddy, the air smells like boat exhaust and fish, and the beer is a little warm by the end of the day.  

When I think about who I am at my very core; who I always have been and who I always will be, I know that I’m just a no-frills country girl.  Why shouldn’t my house be that way?  Ideally, I want my house to be warm and welcoming, simple, and cozy.  Nothing fancy or high-maintenance.  

I found this really fun “Stylescope” on Homegoods.com.  The first time I took it, my results were “Farmhouse Glam with a touch of New Country.”  The second time, it was “New Country with a touch of Boho.”  Either way, message received: loud and clear.  

Now, here comes the true challenge for me: letting go of my traditional, “safe” black and white (boring) décor.  I think my fear stems from the fact that the rustic farmhouse look is very trendy right now, and I’ve always tried to stay away from anything too “now.”  (I can hear my mom’s voice echoing in my head, telling me I might love it now, but I’ll have to replace it in a few years when it’s not so “in.”)

Does your home have a “style?”  Where did you start when you began to decorate?

Stop the bus. This is where I get off.

It happened.  I’ve fallen off of the Insanity wagon.  I’m not proud of this at all; I’m actually really disappointed in myself.  This is the first thing I’ve quit this year (other than my old job, but that doesn’t count, because I actually “resigned” in December; my last day just happened to be during this year), and my goal was to stay committed.  

I could give you the rundown of my excuses, but what's the point in that?  I didn’t really feel like I was getting anything out of it.  After a month, I had lost a quarter of an inch off of my legs, but that was it.  I talked with my trainer friend and decided that it was pointless to keep pushing myself through these workouts that I loathed, when there were other ways for me to stay in shape that I enjoyed (lifting weights, boot camp, pilates, kickboxing, dancing, and trying to bathe Dex without getting soap in my eyes).  If I can do something I love and get results, why not make the switch?

I did make it through my first month and recovery week, so I am proud of that at least.  I actually started the first week of the second month and about 15 seconds into the warm up, I was rolling my eyes and sighing dramatically like a 17 year old at her parents.  Nothing personal, Shaun T., but it just wasn’t for me.

 

Valentine's Day Treats

There’s no denying it.  I think I’m officially “that mom.”  The one who doesn’t buy her kid Fruit by the Foot or those little plastic “barrels” of colored sugar water (which are somehow strategically placed at the end of the produce aisle).  The one who worries about too much sugar or weird additives and dyes.  The one who sends her kid with fruit for Valentine’s Day treats.

These are the treats O will be taking to daycare tomorrow.  

I think I have to take advantage of these young, sweet years of making homemade valentines before my adorable little boy is corrupted by Disney and Nickolodean.  Before I know it, he’ll be begging me to buy him Transformer or Starwars valentines, or (God forbid) Spongebob.