Really?

Mom Mom and Pop Pop, pass the Zoloft.

2022-03-14T06:23:00.000-04:00

My grandmother, my father's mother Mom Mom, was a world-class nutjob. She was off her rocker. I'm not sure if she was always that way or if it was a result of being married to my grandfather. I think we all have a little crazy in us and it's just a matter of time before it comes out, at least in my family that's how it works. Sometimes I do, think or say something a bit off and I think, ‘It’s happening!’

When I was a little tyke would visit Mom Mom and Pop Pop occasionally on Sunday afternoons. Pop Pop worked the night shift and would be asleep upstairs. Mom Mom would shuffle us into the living room and insist we play the piano with all of our might, “You have to really press the keys down hard!” My parents would discourage us, but Mom Mom was persistent, and we played our little hearts out. While we played, she’d tell stories of waking up in the night because someone or something sat on the edge of the bed or hearing noises in the house or things missing. My brother and I would slow our symphony and listen to her horrifying stories. The piano banging would eventually wake Pop Pop and he’d come down and immediately start his monologue. He was always talking stocks and asking how much you paid for something. "I've got news for you Pal..... " "I'll tell you what....." "You know what you should do?” “What’d that set you back?” Then he’d look at my brother and me at the piano. He never yelled about the loud music. He'd instruct us to go up the stairs into their room and get a half dollar each from the bedside nightstand. We'd creep up the dimly lit staircase, peek through the keyhole of the bedroom door to check for ghosts or murderers and then open their bedroom door run to the nightstand and as quickly as we could grab two half dollars and run for our lives back downstairs.

My father’s youngest sibling Dean was a motorcyclist, a member of ‘The Breed’ a motorcycle gang in New Jersey and he was a dead ringer for Jesus himself. Long hair, long beard, soft spoken, kind; I never met a hippy, nor did I know what a hippy was. I just knew he was cool. I was the flower girl in his wedding and got to wear the prettiest salmon colored dress and have my hair professionally done up like a princess. The whole wedding was magical with the exception of Aunt Carol yanking and choking me by my salmon-colored dress neck. She was heavy handed, the cigar smoking probably contributed to that.

Dean would show up to our house on his Chopper with his gorgeous long haired hippy girlfriend hanging onto him. On one visit he brought George Carlin’s 1974 album Toledo Window Box. My Dad cued it up on the record player and we all laughed and laughed. I was laughing mostly at my Dad laughing who was suddenly transformed into a jovial happy guy that I’d never met. Usually, he was freaking out; at dinner about some stupid look my brother had on his face or me giggling; on the weekend because there were chores to be done; or because I flushed the toilet and almost electrocuted him when he was working on the well pump; or at our beagle for howling at hot air balloons; there was an endless supply of things to freak out about and he scared me to death and could make me cry with one look. But this guy was fun! It was all so groovy and we wished Uncle Dean would come over more often or maybe just move in with us. Sadly, Dean died in a motorcycle accident when he was 25. His funeral was the first and only time until my Mom passed that I saw my Dad cry. It was more concerning than sad. It never occurred to me that Dad hadn’t cried ever or that he even could. It was downright sobering. I looked at the funeral cards with Jesus on them and thought, "I didn’t know Uncle Dean had a robe but that’s a really nice picture of him.” I was ignorant beyond my years.

Dean’s death was the undoing of Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop’s marriage, but mostly of Mom-Mom. They divorced after 46 years of marriage. Many people asked what the point of that was, but I got it and I get it. Why suffer any longer than necessary? They had been trying to kill each other for years, literally. She would try to run him over with the car, he chased her with a hammer, she put Salt Peter in his sandwiches, he was no doubt building a bomb in the basement.

During the divorce they sold the house with the dark wood, piano, ghosts and murderers and Pop-Pop re-bought the first house they lived in where they had raised their family. When I got my driver’s license, I went to visit him. The little house sat way back off the main road and there were several goats tied to trees in the yard, this is how I knew I was at the right place. I walked to the door and banged on it. I heard rustling and yelling and then Pop-Pop materialized at the door, "Hey Michele! Ha ha ha! Come on in!" He was actually happy to see me, I am unsure of many things, but I was sure he was happy to see me, and it was lovely. I brought him an Entenmann’s raspberry Danish because I thought it was mature and I was determined to be as old as possible and who doesn’t love an Entenmann’s raspberry Danish? The door opened into the kitchen and there was shit everywhere, cans, newspapers, magazines, milk crates and a narrow path that led through the house. Pop-pop was hoarding when hoarding wasn’t cool. On the stove was a pot boiling away and he announced there was a rabbit in the pot. It wasn’t ready and for that I was very thankful. He cleared a mound of crap from one of the kitchen chairs for me to sit down and then moved some of the other crap from the kitchen table. We made small talk while he rolled a cigarette. I could have watched that for hours. I was a mesmerizing process, the papers, the tobacco, the rolling and sealing and it smelled really good.

After a while he got up to check Bugs and then went to the freezer. He pulled out the ice tray, removed something wrapped in plastic and said, "Try this on." It was a diamond ring, just gorgeous, freezing cold, but gorgeous. It fit, I was so excited! "Now take it off." Psych.

Behind his house he had built a 10,000 square foot warehouse that he quickly filled with flea market finds. He’d drive a bread truck to the flea market with his buddy Jakie Lee, setup his stuff and somehow come home with more than he brought. I don’t think that uncommon, but his collection was disconcerting. As I stumbled through yet another sea of shit, Pop Pop would yell, "Damn racoons!" "I've got news for you....". And on it went but I never saw that diamond ring again.

Mom-Mom on the other hand moved into an apartment close to the A&P for easy access to the groceries. Her and I had more in common then we realized. Her world revolved around food and telling wacky stories. I decided she would be my next road trip. When I knocked on her door she barked from the other side, “Who’s there?” “It’s Michele! YOUR GRANDDAUGHTER!” I’m surprised she opened the door at all. There stood the little 5 foot woman in her dress and apron, “What are you doing here?” I think she thought I was there to rob her blind. That made both of us uncomfortable. She wasn’t… how can I put this? Maternal and I always got the feeling she didn’t like me but she invited me in and immediately went to the refrigerator where she hauled out the ever-present ham on a plate covered in reused aluminum foil, and a bowl of creamy sweet potato salad. She made heavenly potato salad and my mother spent years trying to outdo her and to her credit eventually did. Mom-Mom told me for the hundredth time I looked like some relative named Pee Wee and dug out her photo album. Then it was the lecture that I should marry a nice Jewish boy and her walls were very thin and the neighbors listened to her conversations. They drank apple brandy and listened to everything that went on in her apartment. When she went to the A&P they went through her apartment, she kept the money hidden well, so that was okay. She told me she started buying chicken from the boxer. “What boxer?” I asked. Tyson. She thought she was buying chicken from Mike Tyson. She then told me the story of her experience at Dean’s wedding. "Dean’s wedding was in September, I looked out one side of the church and the sun was shining. I looked out the other side and I saw snow." (hello?) "Then the wind blew over my right shoulder, it was cold and that the right side is the past. Then the bible pages flipped, I don't know where it stopped, but it stopped on purpose and that is the last time I was in a church.” Alrighty then, probably time for me to head out. My hope was visiting would be therapeutic for her, who knows.

When Mom-Mom passed, before Pop-Pop, I didn't make it to the funeral but my parents reported back

to me, apparently Pop-Pop walked up to the casket, stood there and said, "You were always a crazy

bitch." Wow, and I missed that? But Mom-Mom got the last laugh and was buried next to Pop-Pop’s

mother. Who’s the bitch now? Mom-Mom, she’s still it, may her and Pop Pop rest in peace.

Pulled Pork 2.0

2020-11-01T19:26:00.002-05:00

Cooler temps! Yay! Less gardening! Boo! and Yay! More comfort foods? OH YEAH!

I've shared my recipe for pulled pork in 2012 and since then I've made some small improvements. This is another recipe that you need to prepare a bit in advance for but requires very little 'active cooking time'. This batch uses 2 pork tenderloins. I watch for a sale, buy a double pack and wack it in the freezer then the day before I want to make pulled pork I whip it in the fridge to defrost. All the wackin' and whippin' is worth it, trust me.

Bacon drippings (I cooked 4 strips of bacon this morning in a high sided frying pan for breakfast and just left the drippings in the frying pan.)

2 Pork Tenderloins (you can use shoulder as well)
1 Vidalia Onion chopped
2 Garlic Cloves sliced
1 tsp. Kosher Salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground Pepper
1/4 c. dry sherry (I would have used Brandy but we're out of the the Christian Brothers' Shitty Brandy I use for cooking)

1 c. Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce - I used Sweet and Spicy

1/4 c. rice wine vinegar

1/4 c. dark brown sugar

1/4 c. sweet chili sauce - you can find this in the grocery store Asian food section - delish!

Heat up the bacon drippings over medium high heat in a frying pan. Brown the pork tenderloins on all sides. Get some deep brown coloring going on - that's where flavor lives on the color wheel.

While the pork is browning turn your crockpot to high and add the onion, garlic, salt pepper and sherry.

Once the pork is done, remove it from the frying pan and pour the drippings into the crock pot. Cut the pork into cubes and add to the crockpot on top of the onions.

Keep the onions on the bottom so they cook up nicely. Spread the bbq sauce, rice wine vinegar, brown sugar and sweet chili sauce over the top of the pork. AT THIS POINT YOU CAN STAY ON HIGH OR SWITCH TO LOW.

Now go do something fun, rake some leaves, take a nap, binge watch Columbo, go shopping, reorganize the pantry!

4-6 hours later or 8 hours if you used the low setting..... Poke the pork with a fork ya dork. If it doesn't break apart easily let it cook a while longer. If it does it's time to 'pull' it. There are several options to accomplish this. You can use a food processor, a potato masher or a fork. Choose wisely and 'pull it' PULL IT REAL GOOD! Make sure everything is mixed together well. Now taste it. Good right? Does it need salt? More bbq sauce? Adjust however you like it.

Serve this on a Kaiser Roll with some bread and butter pickles, or coleslaw or pickled jalapenos (the ones from Trader Joe's are dy-no-mite!). Boom done!

Ribs, Culinary School Injuries & Chef Otto's Cornbread

2020-10-25T18:49:00.001-04:00

Occasionally Acme will have ribs, buy 1 get 2 free. The first time I saw this I did the Golden Retriever head tilt. Huh? The ribs are usually baby back and run around $23 a rack. So for $23 I can get 3 racks of ribs. I have no idea what they run normally - hopefully more than $8 a rack.

I have worked on this rib recipe for years and I think it's tight. Totally stolen from Alton Brown and then adapted a bit.

Chef Otto's Cornbread Recipe is one I've had since Culinary School in 2000 - Chef Otto shared this one and it was a go to for our 'family meal'. Family meal was something we would mention at the beginning of class and then if we were good and Chef Otto was in a good mood he'd cave and let us make a bunch of stuff to eat. Sometimes he'd just tell us to go to hell. He didn't suffer fools and he spoke his mind. Awesome dude. One time when we were cleaning up and doing all of the dishes and there was an insane number of dishes to do, I turned around as a young man with many piercings swung around with the a plastic cutting board and caught me in the eyebrow. It split right open. I was more shocked by the noise than the pain. Blood ran down my face and Chef Otto came over and said I could tie a string in the young man's nose piercing and haul him around campus. He was just cool that way. I filetted my thumb once on a the top of an oven and the Chef teacher tried to sear it on the stove. tried.

Okay, back to the recipes. . . .

1 rack of Baby Back Ribs
1/3 cup dark brown sugar
1 TBSP Kosher Salt
1 tsp Oregano
1 tsp Garlic Powder
1/2 tsp Cumin
1/2 tsp Chili Powder
1/2 tsp Cayenne

Sweet Baby Ray's Sweet Hot BBQ Sauce (or dealer's choice)

THE DAY BEFORE you want to eat the ribs, mix the sugar, salt, and spices in a bowl. Lay out two long pieces of aluminum foil on a baking sheet. Place the ribs, bone side up - remove the sinew on the back. You can do this by sliding your finger under the thin white translucent skin and rip that off - this prevents the ribs from curling too much and it's gross. Now use about a third of the rub you made - YES, YOU MADE RUB MY FRIEND! High five! Rub that all over the back. Flip them ribs and rub the rest on the meaty side. Wrap the ribs up in the foil tightly and pace the baking sheet in the fridge overnight - do 24 hours. I think it makes a difference.

Next day - ready? Preheat the oven to 250 - yes just 250. Bake the ribs for 2 1/2 hours. After they are done baking remove them from the oven and open the foil - careful now, they are hot and we aren't done yet. Pour off the liquid that has accumulated. Set your oven to broil - if you have low broil do that, if not lower the top rack so it's not right under the broiler. Now coat the top of the ribs with Sweet Baby Ray's and broil so they slowly caramelize. You want a toasted marshmallow thing going on. That's it! You made ribs! High five!

Chef Otto's Cornbread

1 cup cornmeal

1 cup flour

1/2 cup sugar

1 1/2 tsp. Baking Powder

1 1/2 tsp. Kosher Salt

1 cup milk

2 eggs

1/4 c butter melted

bacon grease

Preheat oven to 425 - Place bacon grease or just several pieces of uncooked bacon in the bottom of muffin tins - I used one pan with 6 large muffins. Heat until oil is smoking.

Mix all ingredients. Pour into muffin tin and bake for 16 minutes. You made corn muffins! High five! Serve with a lot of butter. Enjoy!!

Stick a fork in me I'm done. High five!

The Second Time Around

2020-10-03T20:40:00.003-04:00

Way back in early 2020, 18 years ago now, the officiant we booked gave us a questionnaire to complete so she could get to know us better. With our Covid themed wedding we trimmed everything down and we never discussed those questionnaires. This was my second marriage, but Scott's first. At 49 (yes I married a younger man!) he had never been married, no kids, a stone cold bachelor. One question was, "What would you like to say to your husband? And I answered, "I am so thankful you waited for me." Pretty sweet huh? She called me crying when she read it. She also mentioned pornhub at some point after the wedding - so take all of that with a grain of salt.

We began dating when those commercials with Danny Glover for the condition that causes you to burst into laughter first came out. Whenever Scott would say something - and his comedic timing is amazing - and I would laugh, he'd say, "I made you Glover." and I Glovered a lot..

As we maneuvered into being a couple we both had to make some adjustments. We're old! We've been doing our things our way for a LONG time. I have learned to leave the clean dishes in the dishwasher and he'll empty it. He's learned that when I start cleaning it's 'game on'.

Today I had to waste some time waiting for Marshalls to open so first I did a little grocery shopping and they announced they were doing flu shots, so I got one of those. Then I swung by Steinmart who is going out of business and they had shoes on sale like you have never seen - very productive Saturday. That whole rambling we can refer to as a 'walder' story.

When Scott came home from work today he said, "If you had to listen to the Walder story I had to today you'd shoot yourself, it had cajun accents in it and it wasn't funny at all." I Glovered.

I told him I was going to model my three gleaming new pairs of shoes. And they are amazing and they were cheap. 50% off of 50% off. Makes your brain hurt, doesn't it? Oh and I cut my jeans too (walder story alert!) I had some jeans that I couldn't fit into and now I can. I cut them at one length on the front and longer in the back. Kind of a jeans mullet. I'm not wasting longer jeans because they aren't in style. I hope washing them helps. ANYWAY, I came out with new pair of shoes #1 - a kitten heel with a tweed pattern - and a buckle, so cute. "Don't you already have those?" My head did the Golden Retriever tilt. 'Say what?' "Don't you already have those shoes?" 'I most certainly do not.' I put on pair number two, another kitten heel in all black with a rhinestone string. They make the pants look better! Pair number three, a chunky heel sandal in a faux brown alligator pattern. For the record, there were rave reviews on pair 2 and 3 Ooooooh and aaaaaah that made me Glover for sure. Walder out!

My legs don't look like they are on the same body. lol!

Nice focus Chele.

Notice freshly hacked pants.

2020-09-13T18:41:00.003-04:00

Did you ever try to 'work through sciatic pain'? You didn't? Probably because you're not an idiot. Hi. I'm Michele and I am an idiot.

Last fall I started following Garden Answer on Youtube. This lovely lass who lives on the eastern edge of Oregon with her hubs and adorable little boy. She is a full time youtuber and gardens like a champ. Her family is sweet - everything is sweet. I was hooked. I ramped up my gardening and last fall I planted 200 tulip bulbs then went balls to the wall this spring. To say things got over the top is an understatement but I've enjoyed it all so much. Perennials are smarter - why buy and plant something that dies? Annuals are beautiful and pack a glorious punch. Everyone has their place.

This weekend I started preparing for Fall and bidding farewell to Summer. I removed some of the Supertunia Vistas - which perform unbelievably. This year I also came to grips with cutting things back to encourage growth. That means wacking off flowers to promote more flowers. It's painful but worth it. Also, weekly feedings with water soluble plant food makes a difference.

At some point yesterday I tweaked my back. My sciatic has been a little 'tender' - it's been tender for about 8 years now. I keep thinking I just need my hip to be cracked and I'd be good. So far that hasn't happened. This morning when I started outdoor work I was having some issues but thought moving around would help. I've heard that. LIES! Here's what I managed to do - and yes I'm totally bragging about it. I worked through pain - check me out. When I'm in traction you can point and laugh.

First I moved an azalea that was planted off center. Yup. We have three box woods in front of the house and azaleas in between them. One was way off. Of course it's the largest one. Dug the go-to-hole first, then dug up the biggin'. And moved it. That was fine. Then I moved on to the limelight hedge. It is a long border along the woods. I had about 20' left to do. Done. I scrapped the grass and moss by using a spade on my knees because I couldn't maneuver at the right angle standing up. Yes sireee working through the pain. Not fast mind you but moving.

With that done, I move on to edging the sidewalk by hand with the rolly thing with the star blade wheel. Then sweep that up. Edge the flower beds a bit. About this time the neighbor showed up and we had a lovely conversation about how old she is and she used to do that kinda stuff. I believe nothing she says. Now it's time to mow. Mowing involves picking a pattern and if it's the diagonal then I do two passes in each direction. No doubt towards the end of the front yard I lose count and screw it up. It's zoysia grass and it's very forgiving.

Now the leaf blower to clean up - won't start. Walk away and trim the holly bush. Try the leaf blower again - nope. Grab the pole saw and trim up some low branches on the big tree out front. Try the leaf blower one last time. Nothing. Start up the lawn mower and use it as a leaf blower.

Off to Lowe's to buy mulch. While purchasing just mulch I find a lemon cyprus - always wanted one, since 1:30pm today when I found it. Now head back to mulch the limelight hedge bed and create a new bed off the driveway.

Neighbor's boyfriend is back and now babbling about mulch - 'Don't get the black mulch.' "Yeah I know.' 'Don't get any dyed.' 'I know.' and I thought if he makes one more comment I'm going to tell him this is the time I dedicate to the Lord so please leave me be. Is that wrong?

I got the new little bed made and planted the Lemon Cyprus - looks so cute! By that time I was walking like I was 110 and/or shot.

After planting that little gem I ran a quick errand and then came home and made a pizza. I am now on the sofa typing - I may not make it. I'll make it for sure.

And eventually I will merge the lemon cyprus bed with the other bed. Eventually means next year. I'm tapped at this point. xoxo

Let me tell you about my Schatzki Ring

2018-09-28T21:06:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows me knows I love to eat. I love food. I love to make it, eat it, talk about it, think 3 meals ahead. Food is so good. The other common knowledge is I swing from one exercise to another, then none, the something completely different. I was swimming and then the stairmaster caught my eye. It's brutal, low impact and is keeping me occupied for now.

Today after work I hit the Y and did 110 floors - The World Trade Center. I saw a video of firefighters in full turnout gear on a stairmaster/climber doing 110 floors on 9/11. Holy shit. I couldn't walk to my car in the parking lot with turnout gear on. Those gentleman are beyond hero status. I do my routine in 30 minutes. Each time I think maybe I'll see Jesus at the end and he will give me some of that water turned into wine and let me rest and I'd let him. But I survive and leave happy that I've done something.

Today is Friday and I was making pizza after work. Store bought dough and homemade assembly. Instead of having 1 slice and then being hungry for the night - let me just stop here. Can you IMAGINE how I would be on a survivalist show? I can't make it 4 hours without some substance - days? Oh hell no. I decide to swing by the Acme to get some mushrooms. I'll throw some on my portion of the pizza and roast the extras with green beans to fill me up. I'm working smarter! I walk into Acme and I can feel the confusion in my brain. 'What am I here for? Right Mushrooms, maybe a sweet potato, no just mushrooms. Oh look cauliflower is 2 for $5. Mushrooms.' I grab the mushrooms and then I smell the chicken. Acme makes amazing fried chicken but they also make grilled chicken. I see it and need it. I ask the nice man behind the counter for a thigh and a drumstick. I tell him how hungry I am. He knows I'm nuts. I leave the deli and get some Lean Cuisines for next week and then I hit the ice cream aisle (I know, believe me I know) and I get a pint for the Mr. and 1/2 pint of Friendly's chocolate ice cream crunch, which I HIGHLY recommend by the way. I leave Acme and swing in the liquor store. $7.99 for a bottle of Camere? I think, Oh they have Cab, Malbec and Merlot - 4 bottles later...... now home. I get home and I know I need to 1. feed Tootie, 2. Do laundry 3. Make pizza 4. Make roasted vegetables 5. Take a shower then I can sit and rest. Does it matter if I do all of these things without taking a break - nope, can I not do them first? Nope .... I am ready for all of this but decide first I'm going to have that drumstick. I reach in the bag and open the aluminum foil packet. I ate that drumstick in two bites. I don't really know if I chewed. I was so hungry and it was delicious and .............................stuck.

I am not a doctor but for years now if I ate rice or hard boiled eggs too fast this would happen. I think it's a Schatzki Ring. This is a hard ring that forms in the esophagus and causing a narrowing.... I jam so much poorly chewed food down my esophagus that it log jams. This happens once a year. Once time it happened on a long car ride with me wolfing down a ham and cheese sandwich and a Yoohoo - I'm not proud of any of this, but it is a delicious combo!

Tonight alone I spent 15 minutes praying it would break lose or trying to induce vomiting. Not a fun feeling. At the same time I salivated like Cujo - frothing at the mouth. It is a wonder that I haven't actually choked during this nonsense. Just when I think there will never be a resolution it slides down. Normally I just head back to the food and start eating again but 'washing' it down. This time I was a little more rattled.

I'm really going to try to chew and take my time but I know my blood sugar will argue like crazy.

And I still have a thigh in the fridge. Wink wink, nudge nudge.

Settling In. Midlife

2018-03-29T20:39:00.000-04:00

This year marks my 48 trip around the sun. I like to thank mother nature for weakening my eyes so I can have a 1940's style smokey view of myself without my glasses. I'd like to tell my eye doctor to go f himself because he doesn't agree with me and his father that not wearing your glasses actually exercises your eyes and builds strength. Me and Mr. Baruffi think we have buff eyes, screw you Dr. Baruffi.

In the past 4 years I have been trying to practice mindfulness combined with idontgivashitness. The small act of stopping, looking around and smiling is fun - in a grocery store, in the car, at your desk. You own that shit.

Right now I'm watching The Mind of a Chef on Netflix. I love watching other people who swoon at ingredients, get excited about a hole in the wall and try different things.

Today after work I bought an electric fondue pot. I've had sterno ones and think this might be a good option. I haven't made fondue in years and it is happening this weekend and it will be epic. My SO doesn't think he likes fondue. He loves cheese - he's going to lose his mind, I'm getting lucky as hell this weekend. This reminds me of making fondue in Maine and texting or calling Pam. I could just text 'fondue' and know she'd be over. She is the one that discovered and claimed the nodule of cheese left at the end of a fondue party. Screw Chester Cheese, she's the cheesiest and I miss her to pieces.

Midlife, not giving a crap and cheese. . . . . life isn't just good, it's great. I say my little prayers each night, I'm thankful for whatever I have and I pray for all ya'll. XOXO

Potato Stackers?

2018-01-17T20:03:00.000-05:00

I don't know what to call these dealios but let me put it this way... every time I eat a bite it's a When Harry Met Sally Moment. I'm serious, these are beyond good.

Two large golden potatoes. Or more, don't get hung up.
4 Garlic Cloves Smashed
4 Tbsp. Butter
Fresh Thyme
Salt

That's it.

Preheat the oven to 375. Get your large muffin tin - it's not a normal muffin tin size there are 6, not 12 in the pan. Get one.

In a saucepan melt 4 tablespoons of butter and 4 cloves of garlic - smash those puppies before you dump them in. Let that sizzle for a good 10 minutes, don't let it burn!! But let it get nice and golden brown. Peel your potatoes and slice them super thin - use a mandolin if you have one. They scare me, but you do you.

Pick off some thyme leaves, sprinkle them in the bottom of the muffin tin.

Toss the potatoes with the garlic butter. Salt them. Kosher salt, don't be stingy - potatoes need salt like women need kisses on the neck. Damn straight.

Now start with the smallest slices and lay them in the muffin tins, stack them up until you've filled each spot.

Bake for 30 - 45 minutes. Just keep an eye on them. They will get brown around the edges and smell wonderful.

When it's time to serve them flip them out of the muffin tin on to a plate (small slices end up on the top)

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

Float Like a Middle Aged Out of Shape Butterfly

2018-01-16T19:46:00.001-05:00

The other day after a recap of my Saturday morning my sister-out-law suggested I start blogging again. Blame her, she can be reached at 856- just kidding. She's a beautiful soul. There are many out there and the secret of life is finding them and ignoring the assholes. It's a battle.

I'm going to try to dive back in...

Once again I've decided to jump on the exercise bandwagon. Healthy mind, healthy body, healthy spirit and self improvement. I do this every so often and I'm starting to think if I just shrink the time in between 'fads' I may end up with a mildly decent lifestyle. That's spindoctering 101. Like Yoda I am.

I think it was back in November when we moved into the new digs that I determined I would sign up with 9Rounds a circuit training gym where Cross Fit meets Curves. I think that's a pretty accurate description. Like if you said, "Hey Marge, you need to step up your Curves game and Brooklyn you snapped an ankle and should bring it down a notch or seven." You'd be at 9Rounds. It's perfect!

Moving, holidays, the fear of fighting the droves of New Year Resolution Groupies, I've delayed it long enough. I didn't even go yesterday because I was observing Martin Luther King Day peacefully and - no punching. And at last I've run out of excuses.

It's a small setup. Maybe 60 x 40 at the most? I won't use the real name of the young lad who greeted and coached me, let's call him Flame. Flame could be a goddamn male model. He was very pleasant as I explained I was there for my first session, free by the way until I decide this is a commitment I want to make. I sign a waiver saying I am fit to exercise and waive any lawsuits due to flat out lying or being a spaz. It's esigning which looks like WWWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMW but illegible. My answer to fitness level? Intermediate. Oh I'm a baller.

Flame explains that there are 9 stations. I look surprised like I just made the connection with the name of the place, when he turns his back I roll my eyes. He asks, "Have you ever done anything like this before?" I answer, "Oh I did Tae Bo 300 years ago." I chuckle, I'm adorable. He goes, "Oh my Mom did Tae Bo." I knew this was boxing but I didn't realize I'd have the wind taken out of my by a sucker punch quite so early in the game. I bend over, hands on knees suck some air and think, "Pull yourself together you old gray mare." and then I think, "Ooooh I should pickup Jasmine after this, General's Chicken for the Mr. and Vietnamese noodles with chicken for me." His Mom, punk ass male model. At this point I think 'when I master boxing at this strip mall, which should take no more than 4 weeks, the first person I'm going to beat up is Flame.' Then I'm over it. I don't have the mental focus or desire to stew. It causes wrinkles and I'm not dumping money into Aveeno, Crest 2 Step Whitening and Ulta hair coloring to blow it all on grimace divets in between my eyes.

We start at station 1, he explains the horn going off, 3 minute work outs, 30 second warning before the workout is done and 30 seconds in between workouts. I give zero shits. I heard 3 minutes and I know it's 9 things. "How long has it been since you've jumped rope." "I bet I haven't picked up a jump rope since you were still soiling a diaper." And say diaper like DI - a - per cause it's fun. I didn't say that but thought it. I KNOW HOW TO JUMP ROPE FLAME!!! I start by doing the thing where you put your foot on the rope like you have a clue then I start jumping with two jumps between rotations of the rope then I remember how Rocky did the single non-stop jump and I go right to it. 18 seconds in I'm winded and think, "Jesus suffering Christ! I can't do this! and it's 3 minutes and I wrote down INTERMEDIATE!!" I do the double jump and even that is kicking my butt. I start to wonder what Flame's mom is up to and hope she's at a happy hour somewhere telling people her son failed out of medical school and works in a strip mall.

I lived through jump rope and moved over to squats. I can squat for days - I make horrible noises and my face turns beet red but I can hold my own. Even Flame compliments me on my form. At this point I realize that I'm going to have issues walking tomorrow, no doubt.

Next is the punching bag tethered from the floor and ceiling I realize my depth perception is for shit. I'm swinging and missing and getting madder and madder. Fourth station - kicking the heavy bag. That's fun but my left hip is tweaky and I'm concerned I'm going to take a digger into the mat. I live. Onto upper cut punches with the large ball hanging from the ceiling. This is where I thought of punching someone, anyone, okay specific people and it was FUN and then I had to duck under the bag and come up, oh now we're doing boxing type things. Bitchin! Onto the heavy bag and round house kicks - I think of Billy Banks and how I bet Flame's mom thought he was as hot like I did. If I had had the breath I would have yelled, "Hey Flame, you know your Mom thought Billy Banks was hot dontcha???"

Station 7 was a sawhorse hanging bag that you pound on from the top with your gloves and knee from underneath then kick up underneath. It was cool but my steam was running out..... Station 8 was the speedbag. I've never done one of these in real life. I'm certain my timing will improve. Station 9 get on the floor and do situps with a pseudo medicine ball. 3 minutes straight - non-effin-stop. This means my stomach got a workout and tomorrow when I have to sneeze, I will more than likely pee myself. Friggin Flame.

I'm committed to 6 months. I have my own gloves, a mini glove for my key chain, a heart monitor, which is probably more of a necessary than a nicety. I'm going tomorrow after work. I ordered food from Jasmine and as I walked in my legs felt like one of those knicknacks where you push the bottom up and it's legs collapse. Really cool stuff. I made it home and took a shower. It was several minutes until I realize I had my glasses on IN THE SHOWER. It's just a matter of time before my keys are in the fridge.

Happy New Year!

Mom's Home Cooking

2015-08-23T19:47:00.001-04:00

I'm enjoying having Lauren spending time with me. It gives me a chance to cook for someone else and she's always been a huge fan of my meals. Win.Win.

After spending a day walking around Philly checking out the Liberty Bell (still cracked), Ben Franklin's grave (still dead) and wandering through Ikea (still swedish for 'you'll have extra parts left over) we've returned home and I'm making fried chicken and macaroni salad. Recipe below......

Fried Chicken

2-4 Chicken Thighs (the best part of the chicken hands down)
2 c. Buttermilk (or 2 tbsp. vinegar in 2 c. milk - you are welcome)
salt, pepper
1 c. Flour
1/2 c. Cornmeal
2" Veg Oil
Garlic 4 cloves
Rosemary, one stalk
Thyme, few sprigs
Sage 2 leaves

Soak the chicken in buttermilk for 2-4 hours. Mix flour, cornmeal, salt and pepper - use cayenne for heat.
Pour about 2" of oil in a cast iron skillet, add garlic cloves, rosemary, thyme and sage. Heat old over medium heat. Once the oil is hot remove the garlic, rosemary, thyme and sage.
Dredge the chicken in flour mixture then back into buttermilk then flour again. Let sit for 5 minutes.
Fry chicken skin side down first for 15 minutes.
Preheat oven to 350F
Flip and fry another 15 minutes.
Remove chicken from oil and place on cookie sheet with aluminum. Bake for 15 minutes.

Macaroni Salad

1 c. elbow macaroni
1 c. frozen peas
1/2 c. diced onion
1/2 c. mayonnaise
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
3 basil leaves chopped

Boil macaroni for 7 minutes at the 6 minute mark add onions and peas to the boiling macaroni. Strain and toss everything in a bowl with mayo, salt, pepper and basil.

Enjoy!!

Here I am, rock me like a hurricane...

2015-08-22T18:24:00.000-04:00

I meant the 'here I am' as a fun way to peek out from an extended silence. It turned into an 80s song - that happens a lot I have no explanation.

Okay - quick catch up... lots of personal swill.

I'm living on my own in Delaware now - learning pronunciations like Hockessin (Ho-kessin, not as I thought Hock-essin), Shagrin (Shay-grin, not sha-grin). I've heard Delaware described as a small town that happens to be a state where everyone knows everyone so I try to keep my pie hole shut - not an easy task. I'm close to Philly, NYC and Pennington. I've made several trips to all.

My dear friend Sharon has provided a friendly face and a loving shoulder in this transition. Her joyous spirit inspires me. Through her I've joined a beautiful group of women who gather monthly to howl at the moon and act silly.

I've managed to see high school classmates Val and Helena who are nutrition for my soul and remind me of mythological bad ass goddesses.

Lauren moved in with me and that makes my heart happy. :)

My apartment is cozy which means it's small. I've never lived on my own but I am enjoying it. Cleaning is quick, lawn care involves me watering three plants on the patio and cooking is well cooking is cooking... which brings me to the ribs recipe....

Target had Back Ribs on sale a few weeks back - a whole rack for $7. I should point out now that while I was thrifty before I've hit all new thrifty levels. I haven't used my dryer since I moved in back at the end of March. Not once. I use a drying rack. I control my electric like a boss. A cheap boss.

Back to the recipe...

Preheat oven to 300F

Remove membrane from the bone side of the rack of ribs - this is important.
I used McCormick rub for Pork and mixed it with 1 cup of brown sugar.
Rub all over ribs.
Tear two sheets of aluminum place shiny side down on baking sheet.
Place ribs bone side up on aluminum.
Tear two more sheets and cover, shiny side up this time.
Seal edges of aluminum tightly.
Bake for 2 1/2 hours.
When finished unwrap - carefully - steam is the worst. Actually grease is the worst but steam is a close second.
Brush with Sweet Baby Rays BBQ sauce - just buy it, don't mix your own aka reinvent the wheel. Oh and the dollar store has that shit for... you guessed it, a dollar.
Broil meaty side up for 2 minutes or until the BBQ sauce starts to caramelize.

That's it, ENJOY!

Paleo aka Cave Woman

2014-01-28T14:06:00.000-05:00

Remember the Visually Stunning post? Well I think I've honed in on a solution. Paleo (I hope every time I start a new fitness, diet, lifestyle change an angel gets its wings).

I first heard about this maybe six months ago. It sounded like Atkins with fruit and without cheese. Simple concept, no processed foods, no starches, no sugar, no dairy with the exception of eggs. I googled, binged and yahooed a lot and finally found one site that said you could have a glass or two of wine or 3 cheat meals a week. My search had ended. SCORE! Shut up. This isn't strict Paleo, it's more of an 85% 15% - I can't handle strict restrictions, they become my obsession.

So far so good. I started Saturday and have been enjoying omelets in the morning with some meat, salad for lunch and spaghetti squash and Italian meatballs for dinner. I feel much better already and I'm down 3 pounds. I don't do the inches thing mostly because I would suck it in or pull the tape extra tight and the measurements would be pure bullshit. It's bad enough that in I've been know to believe my underwear weighs 2 pound and I could crap a pound off. It's big, but not that big. Instead I'll rely on basing my progress by the amount of jumping around I have to do to get pants on and with this being a time of year when I try to remember to use body lotion there is a lot of jumping around and episodes in which I truly believe my head will indeed explode.

As far as fitness is concerned I'm going to try the cross training app thing again. This was what I was doing when I pulled or strained my calf muscle while performing a complicated move known as 'a fucking jumping jack'. Yeah, I've become that person. Maybe I'll toss in some Yoga.

What's the goal? Getting healthy. 30 pounds would be great to lose but I'll take anything beyond 16.

*Grunt*

Back When Plastic Bags WERE Toys

2014-01-03T12:28:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while someone will post a picture on Facebook of a toy from the 'way back' days like a Slinky or Battleship or Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots that makes you realize you haven't thought about those things in forever. What did ever happened to them? Sure electronics have taken over as the toy of choice for most kids today but I can't help but think there may have been some fundamental design flaws in the old school toys. It is what made them perfect for those of us that grew up standing in the back of the car between the driver and passenger's side as we careened down the highway, riding our bikes without helmets and shooting each other with BB guns - I like to think of us as the Pioneers of Survivor Childhood.

Slinky - The slinky did one thing. It went down the stairs. If you managed to get it to go all the way down the stairs this was an accomplishment but unless you were a bit of a Golden Retriever child this became boring after the 40 or 50th time. You could use it as a bracelet which was kinda neat until it started ripping all the hair out of your arms. Eventually it would become slightly warped or bent rendering it useless for future stair flights.

Easy Bake Oven - Was this not the bane of every Dad's existence? This is how the events played out; Preheat oven by turning on switch that turned on light bulb. The oven took 4 seconds to heat up to 88 degrees where it stayed until you opened the door then it dropped to 70. Make a colossal mess mixing dehydrated cake mix and water in the world's tiniest bowl with it's matching itty bitty spoon. Pour wet mix into the cupcake tins. Insert into 88 degree oven and wait 4 hours or until a toothpick inserted into cake comes out clean. Mix dehydrated icing with water and ice cake. Place cake on pretty plate and present to Dad. This was always Mom's idea, not because she felt Dad had put in a long day in the salt mines and deserved a celebratory cake but rather because she didn't want to eat it. Dad would say things like, "Oh! Wow! Neat!" until he took a bite. My Dad has always been brutally honest and early on it was obvious the juice wasn't worth the squeeze on that toy.

Mr. Microphone - "Hey good lookin'! We'll be back to pick you up later!" This was the ultimate pickup line used in the commercial for the Mr. Microphone. A speaker with a microphone that ran on batteries so you could ride around in your convertible and make public announcements or find a date to go with you to see Killdozer or The Blob. I sang 'Knock Three Times' by Tony Orlando and Dawn (who I thought was one gal until many years later when I discovered Dawn was 'team') and 'Love Will Keep Us Together' by the Captain and Tennille at the top of my lungs complete with some pretty snazzy dance moves. This may have been why my brother took apart my Mr. Microphone and I in turn busted my Cinderella Magic Mirror over his head. Tit for tat.

Slime - Speaking of The Blob. Slime was a lime green goo that came in a small plastic garbage can and you basically - well you basically played with it in your hands until one of two things happened. 1. You left the lid off and it dried out 2. You poured it onto a hot light bulb and then became distracted by the explosion and desperate search to find all the bits of light bulb in your shag carpet, medium pile, before Mom and Dad came upstairs.

Kiddie Fondue - And speaking of shag carpet. Kiddie Fondue was a kit for those cool cat kids that wanted to have a fondue party just like Mom and Dad's cool friends did. The couple where the husband had an afro and the wife wore halter tops and cork wedge heels. Adult Fondue uses Sterno. Kiddie Fondue used hot water. I believe the test kitchen folks for Kiddie Fondue were those that couldn't cut it in the Easy Bake Oven world. This was a toy that was given to me by someone other than my parents. No parent would buy this for their own child and certainly not my parents. It was the food equivalent to the 'One Man Band Set' or the 'Wood Carving aka Burn Down Your Own House In No Time!' After bugging my Mom to let me make this over and over and over again I finally gave up and sulked up to my room where I made it in secret mixing hot water from the tap with the fondue powder and getting my mini marshmallows ready for spearing. Everything was going quite groovy until I knocked over the pot which contained an insert that was divided into three sections; chocolate, strawberry and vanilla. The Neopolitan mess spilled and then oozed into my light pink shag rug. As wave a panic rolled over me I quickly ran for the vacuum and began running it over the rug. This destroyed the rug and the vacuum.

Lite Brite - Notice the spelling - totally far out huh?! The concept here was to take the colored pegs and use the enclosed stencil patterns to create a picture that is back lit thus transforming your room into an art gallery or Studio 54, your choice. The problem was once you used the stencil, you couldn't use it again because you'd poked holes into the pattern that told you what color to put where. And despite being really really careful pegs would fall in the shag rug forever to be lost. Or at least until you hauled out the fondue scented vacuum and then you'd hear them getting sucked up - this noise was similar to BBs being sucked up but less metallic sounding.

Magic Eight Ball - The final decision maker in all childhood arguments and some corner offices I'm sure. The ball held a 20 sided die floating in a blue liquid that would float to a small viewing window and present you with the answer to such questions as, 'Is it my turn to feed the dog?' 'Is my brother a dope?' 'Will I marry David Cassidy?' and so on and so forth. Answers like, 'Try Again Later' and 'Outlook Good' and 'My Sources Say No' left you shaking your underdeveloped arms until the answer you wanted materialized. I once had one of these in my office cubicle and out of curiosity and boredom I took it apart to see what the floaty thing looked like. It looks like a 20 sided die. What I didn't need to learn but did as a result of my experiment was that the blue dye is pretty permanent. I am still amazed I didn't take this apart in the seclusion of my room and add that to the shag carpet.

-Peace out!

Visually Stunning

2014-01-01T15:01:00.002-05:00

Several years ago I was seated at my desk chatting with a co-worker about the benefits of color vs. black and white cameras.

I was about to say, "Obviously it's helpful to know the color of a shirt rather than the fact that it is plaid."

But what came out was, "Obviously it's helpful to know the color of a shirt rather than the fact that it is played. Played. Played. Wait. Played."

I knew what I wanted to say and yet couldn't get the word plaid out of my mouth. I then realized that my vision was torn in half by a very large jagged lightning bolt shape going from mid upper left down to mid lower right. It was dark in the middle of the lightning bolt and the edges were happily blinking in what could be considered delightful colors in any other setting. I closed my eyes and could still see the lightning bolt. I opened them again and whimpered, "I think something is really wrong with me."

My co-worker tilted his head a bit in confusion but still talking about cameras. My hands began to tingle and go a bit numb. This is when I knew I was in fact dying right there at my desk. I grabbed the phone and decided that perhaps I should call my doctor (the one with the fucking BMI chart in his office that I'm always threatening to shove up a certain unmentioned orifice of his. I don't mention his bad breath and he shouldn't use a chart made during the Irish Potato Famine to judge a modern day woman - oh and now he now has a treadmill as part of his desk, what a dick.)

I started dialing the number and was greeted with the dooo-daaaa-doooo!!! the number you have dialed cannot be completed. I hung up and tried again. Same thing. I set the phone down, took a deep breath thinking my fear of dying had me a bit ramped up. I picked up and dialed again, same thing. I then called The Donald. He answered and I explained that something was very wrong with me and I wasn't quite sure what.

"I tried to call the doctor but I don't think I have the right number."
"What number are you dialing?"
"563-47777."
"What?"
"563-47777"
"That's too many numbers."
"What?"
"You're dialing too many numbers."
"What?"
"I'll be there in 30 minutes."
"Okay. I might be dead by then, but okay. Wait what?"

I managed to make my way to my boss's office, who was a weasel if ever a weasel there was. I explained what was happening through tears and he explained that I was having a visual migraine. My first thought was - how is it that you can't seem to rid yourself of chicken shit from the bottom of your shoes, you smell like an ashtray, lie like a rug and were previously selling siding but you can diagnose illnesses? Piss off. I didn't say any of this because I was concentrating on trying to unclench my fists. Great I thought, if I live through this and it doesn't appear that I'm going to, I'm going to have permanently clenched fists and people will laugh at me. I would laugh at me.

The Donald showed up, gave the weasel the stink eye and carted me off to the emergency room. In retrospect an exciting ride in an ambulance may have made more sense.

In the ER Doogie Howser looked me over and announced that I more than likely had a visual migraine. I would have been happier if he said, "I think you have a brain tumor that is going to rupture all over this room any second and if you will now pardon me I'd like not to mess up my new scrubbies with your bits of brain." just because I could hear the weasel saying, "I told you so." with his tobacco stained lip. Ugh.

I was instructed to visit my primary physician, Dr. Dildo. I saw him the next day and he instructed me to lose weight (who saw that one coming?!), reduce stress, limit caffeine oh and again, 'I'd really like to see you lose weight.' I lost 20 pounds. I don't even remember how. I do remember that this was the end of my Ring Ding Era during which I enjoyed a birthday cake made entirely of Ring Dings and was heard swearing loudly when I found that Mr. Jingles, the office mouse, had found my Ring Ding stash and helped himself to a big mouse toothed bite. I, in turn, immediately removed the remaining wrapper and ate the rest of the Ring Ding announcing around a mouth full of delicious Ring Ding, "HA! No more for you Mr. Jingles!"

Dr. Dildo did mention that there was a very remote chance that I had a very mild stroke but nothing to get worried about because I had bigger things to worry about, like the size of my ass.

So I'm glad it's New Year's Day. I've been snow shoeing for three days straight now (not non-stop, just three days in a row) and I'm trying to eat a bit better. I knew this was coming especially having to re-snap my snow pants repeatedly as in; Put on socks, put on snow pants put on one boot, re-snap snow pants put on other boot, re-snap snow pants, drop glove, pick up glove, re-snap snow pants, etc. and so on.

Happy New Year! Plaid.

Off and On the Grid and Off and On and Off and Hopefully Back On For Good

2013-12-30T14:12:00.000-05:00

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to get back to blogging regularly. It helps clear my mind in a way I'm sure meditating would do if I could sit still long enough. Don't get me wrong I can sit with the best of them but more often than not I have to jump up because I realize I should clean something, start making the next meal or google 'why rock salt melts ice but makes ice cream freeze'. Between Facebook, Youtube, Candy Crush (which just edged out my closet McDonald's eating as my worst habit but if anyone has tips on moving beyond level 102 let me know!) I can get lost in a cyber time warp. So here I am blogging again and now I'll get to the subject matter.

This Holiday Season we have racked up more than 40 hours without power. That's not much considering some folks have been out since before Christmas and won't get power until after the New Year. We have a generator but it doesn't work. It's old and at one time we ran it when I got my period each month but after my hysterectomy that went by the wayside. It was also peed on. We keep it under the deck and Gordy, our deceased Afghan Hound found it extremely entertaining to piss on the deck. None of that goes on anymore.

The ice storm blew out our power on Monday evening the 23rd and it didn't come on until Christmas Eve at 5:30pm. It was just went out last night again for 12 hours. There are several things that you learn living in an area where ice and snow storms blow and big ass trees grow.

1. If the power goes off then on three times you're screwed.
2. As soon as the power goes out everyone has the urge to pee. (not on the deck please)
3. You will continue to turn on light switches as you enter rooms out of habit and each time you realize there is no power you die a little inside. Once you've stopped doing that depression sets in quickly, like in 7 seconds.
4. Don't open the fridge or if you need to have a plan. This isn't the time to browse.
5. Don't open the freezer at all.
6. If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown flush it down.
7. A gas stove it a life saver.
8. Headlamps aren't just for mining anymore!
9. A wood burning fireplace heats a room nicely - an entire house, ummm not so much.
10. If you drive to the Y for a hot shower, en route the power will come back on, your wife will text you, you will turn around and come home, en route the power will go back out and the Y will now be closed.
11. A big pot of snow turns into 2 tablespoons of water. Enough snow melted will allow you to refill toilet tanks and really that's the most important thing.
12. Bedtime is around 7pm (this is not far off from bedtime with power).
13. 50 degrees inside is when it starts getting uncomfortable. At this time it is advisable to haul the comforters from the bedrooms to the room with the fireplace and hunker the hell down.
14. When the power returns the mad scramble to shower, flush, refill pots, run the dishwasher is like watching an ant colony on heroin.

I should mention that there are perks to no power. Everyone has to stay in the same room, electronic devices are put away and playing board games and talking passes the time. It is kinda nice. Chilly, but nice.

We've got a new generator coming next week so we should be back in business on or off the grid. There's no one to pee on it and I'm thinking when I change the calendar in the kitchen I'll make sure it is exercised and it should get us over any outages nicely.

Gabby Prefers Fresh Water for Drinking...

2013-08-21T16:45:00.001-04:00

Salt water is good for what ails you. The Sea, Tears and Sweat. It is not however good for gulping on a hot day or any day for that matter. With today being rather warm, Gabby and I set our sites on Pemaquid Lake. Her site isn't what it used to be due to cataracts but thankfully the lake is pretty big.

You know the routine by now, line car seats with beach towels. Check. Ask stupid question, "Who wants to go for a ride and a swim?!" Check. Try not to get bowled over by the one dog stampede. Check!!!!

We heard on the radio that the air quality was going to be pretty bad in the afternoon, luckily we were meeting Cathy and Char at 9am. The lake is the same route to the vet but I think the towels put Gabby's mind at ease. We arrived a little early and decided to take a few pictures before going into the water.

Newfies, normal Newfies if there is such a thing, will typically jump from a dock. Not this one. We've been swimming with the girls and they can jump off the dock and Gabby won't. She'll cry and whine, run back up the dock, onto the shore and into the lake to save them. This commotion is followed by blood curdling screams from the girls who learned right off that if you're not drowning and Gabby is trying to save you, she must first try to drown you. It's a process. A process that leaves you with welts down your front or your back depending on your method of escape.

Some Newfies will even jump from helicopters. Gabby informed me what I could do with a helicopter. It wasn't very ladylike nor anatomically possible.

'Working Dog'

Okay so we got one dry picture but to her credit it was warming up quickly. Again the nice thing about boat launches is the gradual descend that minimizes the possibility of popping a knee or other injuries. None of us are getting any younger! Right Gabs? I SAY WE'RE NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER!!!Oh never mind.

While we had a bit of time to kill Gabby decided to do a tribute to Grover from Sesame Street...

Her running up and down the dock yelling 'near' and 'far' tweaked the curiosity of some nearby ducks. They were quite but fast and swam right over. Gabby didn't see them, remember her site isn't terrific but she caught a whiff of something. Another argument started when she claimed to smell KYFry. I assured her it wasn't Kentucky Fried Chicken but rather duck. Mistake. I agreed, yes we like duck. I admitted to having claimed to love duck. I nodded, their skin is delicious when rendered properly, but forbid her from causing a scene. I had no concern for the safety of the duck, just the circus that would ensue if she tried. She relented.

Then Char showed up - outta no where! From the parking lot actually but she might have just landed from a helicopter. They did their ceremonial butt check. Yes, they remembered each other and they were off like kids to play. We spent another 2 hours sitting, talking, drinking delicious coffee that Cathy brought and snacking. The 'girls' went in and out of the water again like kids at the beach but without the worry of drowning. A few folks stopped by to fish, two other dogs came by - with people. Gabby and Char were confused by the whole tossing the ball in the water and fetching thing. Once they thought was fine, but after a while it's obvious the person doesn't WANT the ball. Leave it for the ducks.

We agreed to swim again soon and said our goodbyes. I don't think we were home for more than 4 minutes when I heard the snoring. Good sign of a good time.

Gabby Goes to Colonial Pemaquid State Historic Site & Swims (of course)

2013-08-14T09:14:00.000-04:00

Gabby and I headed out to New Harbor yesterday to visit my daughters at work. It's a lovely site and has a boat launch perfect for taking a dip. As has become protocol, I first lined the car seats with towels, lots of towels. I made the general announcement, "Who wants to go for a ride and a swim??!!" Despite her 9 years, she came up the basement stairs at a pretty good clip. She jumped into the back of the car, I got in the front (this arrangement is works best for us and the safety of other folks on the road plus she cant' mess with the radio knobs from back there) and we were off.

The streets of Damariscotta, the halfway point in our journey, were bustling with tourists in cars and on foot. The law in Maine requires you to stop for pedestrians in crosswalks. It does not however say anything about not mowing them down outside of the crosswalks. Jay walking seems to be one of the greatest pet peeves of folks living in coastal Maine. We are more than happy to stop and let you walk, regardless of the traffic, time of day, weather, cheesy attire or hair style if you are in a crosswalk, so don't be a wanker and take advantage of us elsewhere especially you sir, pompous old man carrying a purse - I wouldn't have mentioned that had he been in the crosswalk. Excuse the venting.

We arrived at the Park and headed down to the boat launch, parked and I took Gabby over to check out the water.

Right about now was when she heard Ashlee calling her.... she wasn't sure why Ashlee was there or how she got there, but she was happy to see her. Lauren then showed up - Gabby again, "Where the heck did SHE come from?!" Prior to swimming which means being a giant wet and sandy mess the girls took her to meet the other kids at the restaurant. She was happy to see them as well regardless of not knowing who the hell they were. She flung some drool much to the delight and horror of everyone. Then we were off to the boat launch again for a dip....

And she was in.....

All the begging, pleading and long faced looks did not convince me that we should trade in my chevy cobalt in cobalt for a bitchin' microbus. I didn't care if it came with the sea kayaks or not, the answer was still NO.

The 'Please Pick Up Your Pet's Waste' sign made sense, we got that, but no peeing? Seriously?! We were both confused and decided to write letters to our congressmen when we got home. No peeing, that's just bullcrap.

I asked Gabby to pose by the boats. "These dinghys?" She chuckled.

We decided to check out some of the other sites but first Gabby wanted to do her Yogi Bear impersonation. All that is missing here is people running away screaming and BooBoo but one bear in this family is plenty.

We walked further up the road and that's when the argument started....

I still cannot convince her that at no time was this historic park the site of The Three Little Pigs, although she made a good argument at first. .... The House Made of Straw. Yes, yes, I see that...

The house made of Cedar Shakes. What? No, see, that's not right, there was no house of Cedar Shakes, but she just kept going.....

The house that was hit by a mortar. - Well that was just ludicrous!! There certainly was no BOMBING in the story. Huffing and puffing yes, but bombing? No sir.

She claimed this is where the pigs were buried and that she could still smell smoked bacon from bloody Battle of Pork.

I ordered her to stop the nonsense and get in the car. We drove out of the park and the Fort came into view.... she yelled, "Look! The House Made of Brick!!!" She fell asleep soon after that surely dreaming of bacon, wolves and microbuses.

Gabby's Play Date

2013-08-07T12:47:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned the day before yesterday, Gabby and I were embarking (get it?!) on our first Newfoundland play date. I was a bit worried about how she would handle seeing another Newfie. Here is a picture book kind of story telling of our day. . I posted all of these pics on facebook so apologies for those that have seen these. Not really, you should look at them twice and share with your friends.

Before heading out - Gabby does her, "Whatchew talking 'about Willis?!" When I ask if she wants to go for a ride and a swim? Who doesn't ask their dog questions they damn well know the answer to?

I line the car seats and floor with all the beach towels we own. As you can see we survived the Barney and Rug Rat years.

and we're ready to roll...

On our trip to the hiking trail along the Damariscotta Tidal River we came upon some road work. The flagger got an ear full and I thought for just a moment we would be up on two wheels as the car began to rock.

Gabby met Char, her first Newfie encounter since she left Canada at 10 weeks or so. She wagged her tail and was excited, normally she's more 'on guard' around other dogs, but clearly knew Char was 'her people'. She then pooped. I thought she was just tinkling and crop dusting (technical term for doggy farts) but I was wrong. My friend Cathy didn't seem to mind and Gabby really could have cared less.

Then she spotted the pond....

and was IN the pond. "Is it okay if she goes in there?!" I asked feeling like Gabby was taking all sorts of liberties at this point..... Cathy said it was fine. I have one rude canine.

The van was the only mini thing - Gabby managed to get her fat ass in the far back seat while Char calmly stayed on the floor.

There are two trails to the water, one is about 1/2 mile and the other is about a mile. Let me google it, please hold....okay, here's a picture, you figure it out. We took the long way there and the short way back.

Surprisingly Gabby made it to the water. She's not an avid hiker, walker or even sitter. She sleeps like a boss. She was worn out though and hot. One look at the water and no force on this earth could have kept her from going in, certainly not this force.

Char followed quickly and according to Cathy didn't swim that much. Gabby was floating and keeping an eye on Char and us shore folk.

We decided to move to the sandy beach .... this involved coming out of the water...

Kinda looks like a bear here huh?

On the sandy beach we sat by the drift wood. The dogs checked it out and were less than impressed.

Char seemed to have had her share of swimming and wanted to cuddle up with Cathy. Gabby decided she was going to make the most of her outing and take another dip or two or 8.

Finally she was tired of swimming and came up on the shore and sat almost on top of me. We took a cool selfie/newfie.

Cathy and Char were enjoying a relaxing girls bonding day.

Now the Damariscotta River leads to Damariscotta, you can't get to Atlantic City or The Bada Bing Club, this monster Yacht (pronounced ya-ch-ed) soon turned around. Gabby was staring, she's seen pirates before in Damariscotta, so I could understand her concern.

It was time to head back and we took the short cut which lead by a fresh water pond, in again!!

Then back on the trail...

But wait, there's the other side of the fresh water pond, in again!!

I have no idea why I can't rotate this picture. Just turn your head.

When we arrived back at the parking area there were two families getting ready to hike, they turned when they heard us and gasped. I said, "They're giving out bears down by the water, go get yourselves one!"

We made it home, Gabby went out, came in, ate, went out again and then passed out in the hallway. Turn up the volume and listen to the snoring. This travels through the wood floors, up the bed frame and right into our pillows.

the end...

Newfoundlands

2013-08-06T10:54:00.000-04:00

A dear friend of mine tragically lost one of her Newfie's Friday night and knowing how hard it is to lose a pet and so suddenly I offered anything he might need. She has another Newfie that she suggested might be in need of some socializing with 'kin'. I was happy to oblige!

Yesterday when I arrived home from work I let Gabby out and yelled after her, "After you have your suppah you're getting brushed - you're not going on a playdate looking like that young lady!"

She didn't even acknowledge me and I know her inner dialogue was, "Pee then suppah, pee then suppah, pee then suppah." as she waddled out to the yard. I'm pretty sure her other inner dialogues are, "Pee then breakfast, pee then breakfast, pee then breakfast." and "Ooooh goodie, they forgot to secure the garbage - SCORE!"
She woofed at the back basement door but I was busy straightening up and doing after work things like refilling the coffee maker for the morning, cleaning my coffee mug, getting dinner fixings ready and turning on the Zen DirecTV music channel which unwinds me a bit. Patience not being one of her virtues, I heard a woof minutes later at the garage door. I let her in...

"suppah time, suppah time, suppah time." and off barreled for the basement door. Down the stairs and waiting..... I made her meal and let her know it was okay to eat. She waits for the okay and I usually say something along the lines of, "madam, dinner is served." or "bon appetit" or "the chef sends her very best."

After eating she was at the door again, "poop, poop, poop, poop, poop." I came out a few minutes later with two brushes and we spent some time in the driveway as I raked her under coat out. Every time we heard a car I would ask, "who's that?" and she'd stop panting, put her ears back and raise her eyebrows. She'd freeze like that for a few seconds and then without moving her head at all, she'd turn just her eyes to look at me as if to say, "I don't know, who do YOU think it is?"

I raked out enough hair to reupholster 3 medium size dogs or 18 men with shitty toupees.

I hope the playdate goes well. We've never been on one and the hiking trail leads to the tidal Damariscotta River. Newfies are born swimmers and nothing can keep Gabby from diving in, especially me. I'm quite certain if I don't let her off the leash she'll drag me in as well. Which reminds me I need to put all the beach towels we own over my back seats.

She hasn't seen another Newfie since she left Canada, so that will be interesting too. Being the ripe old age of 9 and how can I put this, a total slouch, she may not make if very far down the trail. She's been known to turn around mid walk and head back home. "nuff of this shit, I gotta lay down!" If only they could talk huh?

I'm certain we'll have a good time and it will be good for my friend and her doggy. Quality time with some drooling giant goofballs is good for the soul. Now if you'll excuse me, gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee.

Spider Woman

2013-07-30T09:59:00.000-04:00

This weekend was the first 'wedding weekend' I experienced. Holy crap. Let me first say I was amazed at the teamwork. If you were working, you were hauling ass. Guests were checking in, the tent was being erected, food was being prepped and I was whirling in my world and lending a hand answering phones or where ever I could. Amidst all of this organized chaos something truly Fawlty Towerseque and hysterical happened.

I had just completed making a delivering lime, cucumber rose pedal water to the gals of a bridal party along with a crudité and then sandwiches. My part to this particular wedding was done for now and I could focus on the ice cream sandwiches for the next day's bridal shower. Let me add here that they were chocolate chunk cookies with fresh strawberry ice cream sandwiches between them. Sadly I didn't take a picture but they were an amazing site to behold. Back to the story....

Peke, the goddess that works the front desk, waits tables in the evening, teaches bellydance, is gorgeous beyond words and has a heart of gold, comes running into the kitchen.

"I need a latter!" Peke is from Argentina and has a beautiful accent, it goes with her silky dark mane of perfect hair, killer body and model like face. I find her endlessly amusing and I don't hate her because she's gorgeous - this is new for me.

"A letter? Like a welcome letter for a room?" I ask wondering why she's asking me, I have a mixer, an ice cream machine and a robo coupe, but no printer.

"No! A latter to climb!!" She is swinging her arms around now hysterical. "One of the guests is locked out of their room, we have no spare key for this room, the wedding is in one half hour and we have to break into the room so they can get their clothes to change and get to the ceremony. I NEED A LATTER!!!"

"Okay then what room?" I'm all in. Peke runs out the back door with me on her heels, which are 4". She points to the newly renovated room that is above the kitchen. From the small back porch you can look over the almost flat roof of the laundry room and see the windows to the room. Peke runs down the stairs and turns right towards the garage. I run in the opposite direction because I vaguely remembered seeing a wooden ladder under the deck. I find the ladder and haul it out and run, yes with the ladder, to the porch. I get it setup and climb - my palms are sweating right now just thinking about this - heights are not my favorite. I get to the point where I can put my hands on the roof, but there is no way I can go any further. I can't bring myself to step on the top step, regardless of whether or not it is an actual step according to the ladder manufacturer.

I get back down. Here comes Peke with a step stool. She sees the ladder and hucks the step stool onto the grass behind her.

"Perfect!" She takes off her 4" heels and jams a screwdriver and some pliers in her pants.

"Oh, I don't think that' a good idea, if you fall I'll have to remember what tools you had in your pants to tell the emergency room folks." I'm being realistic and now chanting, 'screw driver and pliers, screw driver and pliers...'

I have never seen a human climb a ladder that quickly. She ran up the ladder and right onto the roof (my palms are sweating again).

"I have no idea how I'm going to get back down." She said as she stood up and ran for the window.

"You'll probably take the stairs inside the Inn, I would think?" I knew what she meant though because I thought the same thing before I chickened out.

She pulled the screw driver and pliers from her pants and began working the screen. It was at this moment that she stood up and started jumping around. I was hot that day and the sun had managed to preheat the roof to a balmy 400 degrees easy.

"My feet! My feet!" I was up on the ladder with my head above the roof line watching all of this. I reached down and slipped off my flip flops flinging them one after the other at Peke while she danced. (I don't wear flip flops normally in the kitchen, but I was assembling ice cream sandwiches and giving my dawgs a break). She ran and grabbed them, the one just before it went off the roof. She slipped on the flip flops and got back to job of prying the screen open. She got it open and disappeared inside.

I climbed down the ladder barefoot and walked it back across the yard and under the deck. I grabbed Peke's heels, of course tried them on and went back into the kitchen. Moments later she came walking into the kitchen in my flip flops.

"She wasn't locked out of her room, she was locked out of her kids room, FOR WHICH WE HAVE A SPARE KEY!!! I GOT INTO THE ROOM AND THE WOMAN WAS STANDING THERE LOOKING AT ME!"

"Peke you realize that she was there while you sprang onto the roof, when I popped my head up and when I threw my shoes!!"

I call her spiderwoman now and she says she can't look at me without flip flops flying towards her. We were team awesomeness!!

Quinoa - It's a super grain, whatever the hell that means.

2013-07-18T20:31:00.000-04:00

I don't remember what enlightened me about quinoa. It could have been a diet, the food network or facebook. I remember hearing it was a super grain and had buttloads of protein. When I first bought some - like 5 pounds because I jump in with both feet, I thought it looked like steel cut oats. I still wonder when I open the canister if it is steel cut oats, but it appears I don't have any of those in the house. Still, I stick my nose in them and mutter, "are these steel cut oats?"

Quinoa cooks like rice. Or at least that's how I cook my Quinoa. It's 'Kin-waaaaah' by the way and when you do say it, the Department of Agriculture mandates you use the phrase, "It's a super grain ya know!" Give it props my brothers and sistas.

Recently this has been my go-to recipe as I'm trying to eat healthier. The wine is still enjoyed each evening. Back off tea totlers!!

This recipe is going to have a cameo by salmon, because I love salmon. I love the color, the taste, the cripsiness, and the fact that it has provided me with 43 years of no visible wrinkles on my face. Sure I've throttled back on sun exposure for years now and use Murad (Dr. Murad send me $75 or a supply of everyday serum for that plug you ignorant dwarf genius) but Omega 3s are where it's at baby. I also consume mass quantities of olive oil. I would bath in it if I could. I attribute the fact that I sing like an angel when I'm in the car alone to the coating of the pipes I do with olive oil. Good lord I've gotten way off track.

1/2 c. Quinoa
4 TBSP. Olive Oil
1/4 c. chopped red onion
1/2 of a bell pepper chopped, I pick the red or yellow because they are pretty. I'm shallow.
1/2 c. raisins (shut up)
1/3 c. chopped nuts
red pepper flakes, however much you like
salt & peppa
3/4 c. water

Heat a small saucepan over medium heat. Pour in Olive oil, then quinoa. Stir to coat. Toss in all other ingredients except water. Did you put the water in too? I've done that, no biggy. Cook ingredients for 4-5 minutes. Then add water. Reduce temp and cover for 10 minutes. Remove cover let water cook off. Server over shredded lettuce and if you want a shiny coat plop a seared filet of salmon on top. I cook that in a small nonstick pan with olive oil over high heat covered. Flip, cook some more - 4 minutes tops. Watch the oil aka your eyebrows and bangs if you have a gas cook top.

This makes a lot, but it's a super grain and it's better than going after oreos later.

Unorganized List of Thoughts

2013-06-30T18:58:00.000-04:00

1. Entering into a test of wills with a Newfoundland during a bath will result in a hideous arms bruise that will even evoke strangers to say, 'Holy shit! What the frig happened to your arm?!'

2. When you introduce yourself as the one cooking breakfast and making desserts to a room full of Inn guests, they will say your name a bazillion times, each of which give you happy tingles and glorious goose bumps.

3. How long can the wiki leaks albino-like man stay at the Ecuadorean Embassy?!?! He's been there for a year? Bad house guest.

4. Thank you autocorrect, Ecuadorean would have been a real pain in the ass to find.

5. It's okay if your allergic to gluten, don't look like you question living all together because of it.

6. When people ask you how you're doing and you respond, 'TERRIFIC!' or 'GREAT!!' It scares them into smiling, try it.

7. Listening, really listening is hard, but one of the most appreciated acts.

8. Being thanked in earnest stills the soul (I should rename this list something 'inspirational')

9. Making arbitrary lists may be my new thing.

I spoke too soon....

2013-06-24T21:10:00.003-04:00

I'd like to thank the dog network for putting my last blog high on their list - word got out...

This morning I woke up at 4:45am to the clock tower bells of my ipad. The Donald had spent the night in the hospital after his surgery to drain an abscess in his throat. The one that shows up every 10 years like it's a class reunion. I showered and explained to Gabby the Newfie that I'd let her out in a second, short shower. Today was a non-washing hair day - it keeps my hair soft and extends the coloration duration expectation (sorry, didn't mean to go all Johnny Cocharan there).

I showered quickly and then let Gabby out. I was back in the bathroom dabbing under eye circle lightener to delicate areas and thinking Andie what's her face is a witch and perhaps an android from Alf's planet when I heard Gabby bark. A dog, like a child, has distinctive barks - kids have cries you get the idea, that let you know things like, 'I want to come in.' or 'I'm hungry!' or 'GET OUT HERE NOW, SHIT IS GOIN' DOWN!!!' This was the shit going down bark. I ran out of the bathroom in my 'new to me' cropped pants from the consignment store. I still longingly look for those gap roman shade roll up pants, they were the bomb. And a sports bra. Not because I was going to kick ass on the tennis court or spin class or even a brisk walk. I was sporting up the gals for kitchen duty. It's a workout.

When I let Gabby out I opened the door to the garage, there's a screen door too. Then I open the car garage door and off she goes. I left the inside door open to give some air flow. When I heard the bark sounding the alarm I came out of the bedroom and turned towards the garage expecting to see Gabby at the door, instead I saw a Husky sitting on the other side of the screen door. Weird thing is, we didn't have a Husky when I went to bed. Hmmph.

Beyond the Husky was Gabby standing all poofed out in the overhead doorway. When she gets mad she gets bigger, like the hulk. She was hulked the hell out. The Husky was looking at me and if he could have talked he would have said, "Excuse me kind lady, would you mind letting me in before that bear over there devours me?" I saw he had a collar, which eased my anxiety over being bitten - even though I love dogs, I love my skin unmarred. The Huskie ran into the garage around my '09 Chevy Cobalt in cobalt that gets 36 mpg. Gabby made a beeline for the screen door. It appears that her concern was not for our safety but rather her breakfast - gotta eat, gotta eat, gotta eat. One track friggin mind. 'I'll handle the strange dog with the big teeth - thanks anyway!'

I let her in and then went back to trying to coax the Husky to me. He was really timid and this seemed to be a job that required my sidekick. I ran upstairs after shouting to no avail and opened Lauren's bedroom door. 'Lauren, I need your help, there's a Husky in our garage.' Here we go again. I looked around and said, 'Oh you rearranged you room, it looks nice!'

Lauren came down and fashioned some kind of lasso out of a leash and wrangled the Husky. Swear to God. 'His name is Hunter.' Okay, we're making progress. I turn around to go get my phone and standing in the screen doorway is Gabby, 150lbs. of scary and under her Gus - weighing in at a whopping 1 lbs. and looking like he was quite pleased with his 'team'.

I called and left messages with both numbers. A minute later my phone rang. 'Hi, you have Hunter?' I explained that we did and our address, she told me her address and I repeated it aloud. At which point Lauren chimed in, "Oh that's the lesbians." Alrighty then we had some context! The owner explained she was on her way to get him.

I headed off to work and saw her walking with her leash. I stopped and introduced myself, after 11 years we should know each other. She appreciated the help and apologized for any problems it caused. No problem at all I explained. In fact I believe it has made Gabby and Gus team awesome. :)

I'm a dog person

2013-06-21T19:46:00.001-04:00

I like cats but dogs crack me the hell up. They have wonderfully positive attitudes, the truly look sorry when they do something wrong, they always hope to drive home from the store (why else do you think they jump in the driver's seat?) and they greet you better after 30 minutes than most humans do after 30 years.

At home I've always been surrounded by silly giant breeds. The regal afghan is just a goofball over actor with model looks. The serious Newfoundland is a food-whore garbage-digging protector who just wants a treat and a good butt rub, but who doesn't?

At work I frequently have the pleasure of the company of two inn dogs.

Robusto is a Romanian street dog, very cool looking, shortish hair, multi colored, pointy snout and a world class player. Often you can find Busto lying in the lobby soaking up the sun and making people walk around him. If you are a guest for breakfast you may be greeted in the dining room by a very gentle dog who sits and maybe just maybe if you're acceptable he will softly place his paw on your knee. He seems to work the crowd and knows who makes for the best victims. He's given bits of bacon, sausage, scones and lord knows what else. If caught in the act of working the floor too much he will stage a peaceful protest throwing himself to the floor in an Oscar winning performance of going limp. Oddly, the only way to persuade him to move involves bacon. Coincidence? I think not. When he wants something, to eat, to go for a walk, for you to shut up and pay attention to him he will bark nonstop. His schedule is controlled by him and him alone. Occasionally he skips a daily hike only to let his parents have it with both barrels upon their return. Recently on a weekend getaway he went limp at an outdoor restaurant and had to be carried to the car. I don't doubt for a second that he winked at anyone watching this show.

Then there's Pearl. A gregarious yellow lab. So happy is Pearl that her B-hind wags along with her tail. The first time I met Pearl was my first interview when she jumped up on my chair and delivered a bitey kiss to my ear that had me checking for my earring and blood. During my second interview I was nose to nose with her while my boss chatted with guests, she lunged, moray eel style at my face. I was relieved that my lip didn't split and learned my lesson about getting in Pearl's face. She means no harm, she's just so excited to see you that she wants to swallow you whole!!

Unlike Robusto, Pearl heading into the dining room is trouble, sure she greets the guests but then she makes a beeline for the continental breakfast table and starts helping herself to anything within reach. If she is in the inn when I'm pulling chocolate chip cookies out of the oven she'll come see how that's going for me. If she doesn't show up I look for her. This is usually when we realize she has somehow gotten up to the rooms and is helping herself to the candy and cookies in the rooms. Don't let her angelic sweet smile fool you, she knows where the loot is and when to attack. I avoid putting out chocolates for tea because the last time I did she enjoyed the truffles and then a peroxide spritzer followed by barfapalooza.

It's amazing the effect these two have on the staff, the guests and the owners. Whenever they come through everyone does that talk, 'Who's a good boy? Huh? Who's a good boy Busto?' Or when Pearl is running with an empty milk carton and we chase her just to make her run faster saying, 'Gimme that!! I'll get it Pearl!! I'll get you!!!'

Last night at home our Newfie was limping. Lauren had taken her for a swim so we assumed she over did it and her winter hibernation snooze-fest had left her prone to soreness. This morning she was limping again and licking her paw. There is no sound more annoying than a dog cleaning or licking something. After yelling, 'STOP IT!' 'KNOCK IT OFF!' 'CUT IT OUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!' I walked over to her and noticed her left paw was turned up and that was what she was licking non-stop. I looked closer and stuck into her pad was a FISHHOOK! And the bad mother award goes to Michele Doele, I'd like to thank my family, my producer and my lord and savior Jesus Christ.

I grabbed her paw which had her grabbing it back, me grabbing it again and explaining calmly that I was going to help her. She wasn't buying this and it may have been from watching me dig splinters out of the kids or re-piercing Ashlee's ear with just an earring and will power. The hook was one of those multiple hook things and yet I only saw one that wasn't embedded and part of another and that was it. I tried to yank a little and she got pissed and then stood up. I called to Lauren, 'Lauren, I need your help now!' You know this tone. It says, 'This is an emergency, do not ask questions, get here NOW.' Lauren came down and I explained the problem. She quickly grabbed her collar and leash to hold her, I tried to grab the hook again, this wasn't working at all. Gus the kitten was horrified and curious as only a kitten could be. I went to the garage for pliers and Lauren took Gabby to the kitchen for a treat, we were working together as a finely trained team, remember we composted Elwood the goat, we know what we're doing. Lauren held the treat and you could see the tunnel vision take over Gabby. 'treat treat treat treat treat treat treat...' I bent her leg, put the pliers to the hook and yanked. Once small yip and it was done. Gus made a run for the stairs.

Gabby has stopped limping and is snoring quite loudly right now. Our canine friends are precious, they make us laugh, yell, cry, fill our hearts and enrich our lives. We hurt when they hurt, we cry when they run away and we fret when they devour 8oz. of aged Stilton, Pearl.

Bottle Neck

2013-06-15T18:27:00.000-04:00

I haven't blogged in a while, not on my own at least. Many of you, I hope many, maybe both of you have read my bloggings at my new gig. Lets go back in the way back machine and see how it all unfolded......

I was at my previous job for 11 years, but circumstances changed, things got complicated and I was finding more and more hair in the shower drain, my tell tale 'stressed the hell out' sign. Many mornings I found myself sobbing while brushing my teeth, I have nice teeth, lovely in fact, it wasn't them. Don't get me wrong, I loved my coworkers. I was friends with a lot of them, something I was and am proud of. Ending that sentence in a preposition, I'm not proud of that.

The universe works in strange ways. I'm not religious but I know there is a god for me. He has a wicked sense of humor and he whispers into my ear to work my ass off, then he makes it grow back with a vengeance.

This spring when Ashlee was home for spring break she met with the owners of The Bradley Inn where she has worked for the past 3 years. This was to firm up her schedule. After writing a paper for college about me loving to cook and her hoping one day I would do what I wanted she went one step further and told them I've always wanted to cook. They said to have me get in touch. The kid's got hutzpah.

You know all those all those annoying food pictures I post on Facebook? Yeah, I made a slideshow out of them, made cannolis and hoped for the best. It worked. Maybe the look of desperation helped, but those cannolis had chocolate chips AND pistachios so bite me.

I sold my gas gusseling jeep for an 09 Chevy cobalt that gets 36 miles to the gallon, I changed my hairstyle because I'm still a jersey girl and hair is important. Can you imagine my horror at finding hair in the drain??? I gave my notice.

My last day of work was May 17th, my first day at the new job May 18th at 6am because I wanted some serious downtime to center my shakra and channel my inner schwinn. I'll rest when in dead, good and dead. I was scared and thrilled at the same time, like being on a roller coaster without the carnies. It was everything I had hoped for and more. I had an apron, learned the dish washing machine, the oven, where the little towels are(of which I go through millions!), the radio, freezer, wall ins (the walk in freezer scares me). I wanted to ask where St. Peter was and if god stopped by often cause I could hear the organ music. I knew my crazy would have to leak out slowly.

There are two doggies at the inn, Robusto, he is from Romania and will not only beg from the inn guests at breakfast but he does an amazing peaceful protest when anyone attempts to separate him from the guest he has chosen to gently rest his paw upon. He literally throws himself to the floor until someone bribes him with bacon. I swear I've seen him wink after he gets it. Pearl, the yellow lab is adorable, sweet and will head butt you right into next Tuesday when you get your face in her face to ask, 'Who's a good girl?' Turns out Pearl has a weakness for food. If the doors aren't properly secured she will steal room cookies (giant chocolate chip cookies awaiting the guests arrival), room candy, tea treats. She is relentless and yet sooooo cute.

In the past month I've made scones, ice cream, cinnamon rolls, sorbet, boule, caramels, chocolate medallions. Cork, caramel corn, lemon steamed pudding, creme brûlée, breakfast bread pudding, eggs Benedict, Pullman bread, lemon shortbread, dream cookies, chocolate and plain biscotti, truffles, apple blueberry crisp, creamsicle ice cream, biscuits, sausage gravy, dolce de leche and mint cucumber water. Oh and that birthday cake which remind me I need to make a wedding cake next week. AGHHH!!!

Just yesterday a family was enjoying breakfast and the mother said, 'We were just saying that younprobably made the alone cookies that we had yesterday at tea.' I told her I was and then went into the kitchen and packed up 4 cookies for their trip home. They got those when they checked out and I that extra touch, that thoughtfulness is at the forefront of everyone's thoughts working at the inn. The owners have shown such trust, thankfulness and excitement to me in the past month if they asked me to reroof the place I'd ask, 'Asphalt or Cedar, name your poison!'

I may be telling tales that I shouldn't, but finally the nightmares have stopped. Every night I would wake up panic attack style (which is like calf cramp style but without the cussing and pleading for it to stop as you stare at your misshapen toes) from a dream in which I had to leave my new job and go back to my old one. In one, my old boss was dressed like Cruella DeVille and I owed her $45.00 ??? I'll probably have one tonight now that I've talked it up.

I recently read some advice that included, 'Let your passion drive your profession.' That's gold baby. One of the big 'out of the box' questions of the 90s was, "What would you do if money wasn't an object?" It seems like a great concept with the only exception being bills, mortgages, groceries, tuition, insurance, bills, and don't forget bills and the 90's were bizarre.

We spend a lot of time at work. A LOT. Remember that you usually enjoy what you do well. Put those together and let your passion dictate your profession.

Tomorrow I shall, "Blow the tops right off of those friggin peoples' heads with my cinnamon rolls!" This was a vow I made in the kitchen today - and I will.

Sweet regards,

Chele