Keep Guessing

Crazy

2013-05-02T21:32:00.001-04:00

I have a strong suspicion that I cannot possibly be the only mother of a small child (or children) who is regularly on the verge off plunging of the precipice of sanity. Is it just me? Can't be.

Now, I know that mothers who get paychecks and go off to work have their own sets of stressors, dilemmas, and what have you, but I'm not personally familiar with those experiences. Nor do I know what stay at home moms do while their children are at school and how those days play out. What I am familiar is staying at home with a wild and zany (sparkly, magnificent, energetic, mostly-enchanting) 6 year old whom I try ever so hard to homeschool (more or less).

It's tough. Granted, I probably have more time to work on my Words With Friends moves than most, I also guarantee that I vacuum my table top (who else has a special attachment used just for the table?) , scrape up glue, and wash paint from fabrics more than almost anyone out there. I still have purple tempera paint on my navy suede moccasins. Morning to night and through the night and back again in the morning...

"Yes I'm watching. Hold the pencil like this. It's too cold for the slip and slide! Yes, we can make fake cakes. You need to sleep in your own bed. Go back to bed. Go back to bed. Go back to bed. Brush your teeth. PLEASE try the carrots. The cat doesn't want to be held. Stay in the yard. That's poisonous. Do you want to go to time out? I love you! Be careful! Stay out of the mud. Yes, we can play in the mud. It's time to wake up. Yes, you can wear your princess dress to the restaurant. Pick up your toys! Pick out a book. Why do you hate my singing?!"

It's the constant nature of it all that brings out that ever so attractive eye twitch I've mastered.

I'm secure and happy with the decisions we've made as a family. I'm glad and fortunate to have the opportunity to stay at home with my daughter and be her primary teacher. Few things have been as fulfilling as watching her learn to read (math on the other hand...). I don't want to change a thing.

That said, I'm going out with my friends (downtown hotel, out of season white jeans, shiny shoes, trendy new restaurants, cocktails, art show... The whole shebang. It's a grownup ladies' slumber party, y'all!). Everybody needs a break and mine is coming up soon.

Yay! Back in the olden days, like, say, three or four years ago, I would have had a panic attack if I'd left my husband and daughter home without me for an overnighter such as this. I'm sure you normal people out there aren't as neurotic as me, but I don't think I could have done it then. Fast forward to 2013. This is no longer the case.

I'll tidy up the house, stock the freezer with popsicles and pizza, paint my nails, and be on my way. I'm sure I'll text and call the husband and daughter. I'll try to avoid the impulse to skype or facetime or whatever it's called, and just be present in the moment with my friends. Rejuvenation! And when I come back home that Saturday morning, I'll be ever so happy to vacuum the dining room table with my batteries fully recharged.

Remedial Landscaping

2013-04-03T11:35:00.001-04:00

I have zero desire to cook. ZERO. Something in the longer days has tripped a trigger switching from cooking to messing around outside as the only thing I'm interested in. Unfortunately, I'm a much better cook than I am a gardener as my yard is given to show.

I have bizarre plant experiments all around my yard. I like to set a pumpkin aside in the fall and let it rot where it sits because often, the seeds will plant themselves, and the pumpkin will come back. Of course, mine never survive past anything more than vines and a few blossoms because of several things I do to sabotage their success. Never once have I gone to the trouble of planting them properly which, I imagine, explains my success rate. Still though, it's fun for a month or so!

I have had some successes. There's a lovely couple of square feet or so that I've managed to put together. I'm forcing a knockout rose to become a topiary. We're still battling wills but I think I'll win this one. I managed to mulch a tree by myself last year-- definitely a point for the win column.

One of the things I lack is a plan. Organization comes so naturally to some people. I envy them. Only when the weather is right, I've had the perfect number of cups of coffee, and Mercury is not in retrograde, can I grab the perfect moment to eek out something of a bigger picture. Even then it's fleeting.

Trust the professionals, right? I've killed so many undeserving plants. Maybe it's time I consult someone who actually knows what they are doing. I should be able to manage that, I would think: take a picture, note where East and West are, maybe even some measurements for the pros. I know I've heard of places where you can pay a fee for a plan and get a gift card for plants in return. Maybe even a full fledged visit from a landscape architect? Baby steps.

I know my husband would appreciate it if I'd be so kind as to stop planting flowers in the middle of the yard. That's one thing a plan would remedy. And I'm certain that a plant professional would appreciate my desire for a spot for a tomato plant or two (and hot peppers and a bunch of herbs). With a plan, I bet both the mower of the lawn and the maker of the hot sauce can be happy with the yard. Okay, time to get started. I think I just need one more cup of coffee.

Why Not Me

2013-03-21T15:44:00.001-04:00

There's a really neat group of people making a documentary regarding the culture of silence surrounding pregnancy loss, miscarriage, stillbirth, and that sort of thing. They have a quite active facebook page, and they posted a very interesting query today. And I quote, "Have your spiritual views changed in the face of your loss? Have you grown closer to God? Do you not believe in God at all? Has your experience strengthened or weakened your faith?"

Good questions. It's easy imagine various reactions to this sort of tragedy and other sorts of devastating losses as well. Some never believed and still don't. Others have had their faith rocked to the core leaving their beliefs either damaged or destroyed. Some feel closer to God while still others may have been delivered to God through their devastation. They all seem like pretty natural reactions, to me.

One thing is for certain. It changes you.

Losing my son was the most difficult thing that has ever-ever happened to me. It was almost 8 years ago and he's still part of my everyday life. Love, sadness, desperation, joy, terror, paranoia, glee... My baby boy still inspires these feelings in me.

His whole little life began and ended inside of me. His life had a beginning, a middle, and an end all without seeing his mommy and daddy's loving faces and it was all contained in those short 37 weeks. But it was a real life. He was a real baby boy. And he changed me forever.

I understand why people are angry with God when something like that happens. For me it was different, though. Believing in God (which was slow to come) helped me cope. Liam is being taken care of. He is warm, safe, and loved-- looked after.

Of course, some bereaved parents may wonder why a God of goodness and love would let something like this happen. And even if you don't believe, you can't help but to ask why.

When I went back for my 6 week checkup after my baby boy was born, my midwife said that my blood work came back fine and that sometimes these things just happen. Just happens? Your baby might just die and sometimes that just happens. So, we could all just fall over dead for no reason, and it gets chalked up to, "it just happens?"

No one knows why, she said. While she was a caring and loving person, this was one of the most terrifying statements I'd ever heard. It's also not true. Healthy people don't "just die." There has to be a medical reason and if you find yourself in this wretched predicament, don't accept that answer. Find a better doctor.

But that's the medical explanation. That doesn't address things like, "why do bad things happen?" Or "what did I do to deserve this?" That's when you get into the ethereal.

Clearly, no one has concrete answers for these laments of the soul. We guess, and hope, and swear, and believe, but it's impossible to "know." Of course, I don't know.

But there are somethings I do know. My son left me with many gifts. I have experienced a spectrum of emotions that not everyone is allowed to tap into. I feel like I've been let in on a secret. That life is precious and wondrous-- not just the words but the true understanding of what that means. We live in a world wrought with peril, beauty, blood, flesh, flowers, and stone. He (my son) gave me a privileged peek into the vast spectrum of the human experience. He's left me with a kindness and empathy that was previously absent.

Did it happen for a reason? Only a supreme deity could say. But it happened. And I changed.

Bend in the Road

2013-03-14T19:18:00.001-04:00

It's bewildering how random the world can sometimes seem. I never saw that movie about the butterfly and the wings and all that, but I know and appreciate the sentiment. One insignificant action changes the course of your life in such a major way. You stumble at a curb. Bam! You're in traction for life. You miss one eensie-weensie birth control pill and you're suddenly the parent of twins.

Sometimes these moments are only recognizable through hindsight. What if I had filled out only two applications instead of three that fateful day in 1995? Maybe I never would have met my husband! I love my life so much it sickens me to think of having missed out on all of this by a seemingly random decision. But I guess that's just how things work.

Sometimes, you see the curve in the road. You find yourself at a precipice, a bend, a change. Left with no alternative but to play along with this "choose your own adventure" novel, you plow on, not knowing what's around the turn. Destruction? Glory? Redemption? Definitely change.

Those moments come along with a regularity that is both hard to determine and comforting all at the same time. It's compelling to know that life continues to evolve and grow, regardless of age, with changes, both terrifying and exciting. There's nothing you can do but go through the process and see what awaits.

But it's thrilling. Who knows what tomorrow brings? Maybe your grand schemes will fail in a flaming ball of mess or maybe they will light up the skies for generations to come. Who knows? We make the best decisions we can. We strive, and work, and dream and plan. But what will happen next? I can't wait to see.

Someday, You'll Thank Me.

2013-03-08T12:22:00.001-05:00

This is not a real post-- merely a tidbit of info I feel compelled to share. You know those days when you kinda need to wash your hair, but it's kind of borderline? One should not over-wash one's hair.

1.) It's bad for your hair.

2.) Then you'll just have to blow dry it.

3.) It's an unnecessary use of resources (water, soap, precious moments from your life).

So. Those dry shampoos are really cool. Once I bought a tiny bottle of it for $30. It was a different phase of my life, what can I say. I loved the product; it worked great. Then I looked at the ingredient list...

Cornstarch. That's it. It was the most expensive cornstarch I've ever-ever purchased. Never again.

Put a tiny bit of cornstarch in your hands, rub your hands together, massage into roots and scalp. Voila. That just cost you three cents. AND! Your hair will style superbly. You're welcome.

Operation "Pretzel Cheesecake"

2013-02-26T15:53:00.001-05:00

Every time a starlet announces her pregnancy, I think, "Ah! Now's my chance!" While the miracle of procreation distorts and expands the body of a once lithe famous person, I start planning my big move towards my most prime physical self yet. After all, this gives me a head start if I'm using them as a model.

It never turns out the way I want. Nine months come and go and before I've even started "Couch to 5-k," Jessica Alba is bouncing around Hollywood-- looking so beautiful it's mildly offensive-- with a kid on her hip. I can just imagine her dashing by with a movie script in her hand, and a bikini under her clothes for an impromptu photo shoot at the beach to reveal her genetically-impossible flawless skin for her mom/baby photo shoot.

Whatever. Maybe I'm going about it the wrong way. Maybe I shouldn't be focused on improving myself but figuring out a way to sabotage the beautiful people instead. Is that wrong? Maybe. Probably. I'll think of it as sharing. So, when you read in the tabloids (you don't read those, do you?) about mysterious cheesecakes showing up on the stoops of supermodels around the world, it might be me. And my motives can be summed up in one word. Sabotage. Uh, I mean, "sharing."

Pretzel Cheesecake

Crust--

Ingredients:

18 squares (not rectangles) of plain graham crackers
6 pretzel rods
1/4 C of sugar
1 stick of melted butter

Directions:

Crush pretzels and graham crackers. Combine with sugar and mix in melted butter (thank you handy-dandy food processor).

Press mixture into the bottom of your spring-form pan.

Bake crust at 350° for 10 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool as you prepare the filling.

Filling--

Ingredients:

All at room temperature...

3 boxes (24 oz. total) of cream cheese
3 eggs
1 C of sugar
1 C of sour cream
2 tsp of vanilla

Directions:

Beat cream cheese and sour cream until smooth. Gradually add sugar and continue to mix on medium to medium high, add vanilla, and then beat in a egg at a time.

Place hot water into a roasting pan and put on bottom rack of the preheated oven. Position a second rack on the center of the oven for your cheesecake.

Pour into crust and bake at 250° for one hour & 10 minutes. Turn off the oven, open the door all the way open, count to 30, close the oven door and leave the cheese cake to rest for another 50 minutes (not my original intention... I was going turn off the oven at the one hour mark and let it rest in the oven for one hour but I missed timer so I kinda goofed. Oh well.)

Place cheesecake in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours before "sharing."

Final note. If I had a more extensive attention span, I would absolutely make caramel sauce for this (how awesome with the salty pretzels?!). Maybe for Vanessa Lachey's second child...

Real final note. Do not remove the shell of the pan before the cake has cooled all the way. If you do not heed this warning, you will crack your cheesecake. You have to give the cake time to cool which results in it shrinking and pulling away from the pan by itself without causing any harm to the cake.

I Might Be Lame

2013-02-18T16:04:00.001-05:00

I found myself thinking just now about how perfectly comfortable my Croc flip-flops are and how, by some accounting, they may be my favorite shoes. Then I felt sad. Then I laughed (read, "almost cried"). The many stages of becoming self-aware as a giant dork, and this is where I find myself.

You know, cantaloupe is sort of like Crocs. Sure, it seems overly comfortable and pedestrian, but beneath that boring shell is where the appeal is to be found. A properly ripened cantaloupe has a sophisticated fragrant quality that belies its humble appearance much as the frumpy Croc hides its genius in its well-engineered comfort.

Cantaloupe doesn't get enough credit. Not only is its sweet flesh sensibly delicious, but it is also a terrific source of vitamin A and a bunch of other good for you little ingredients, antioxidants, etc. Sure, it may get condescending glances from the likes of pomegranate and papaya, but so what! Stand tall and round, cantaloupe, and don't let those showy fruits push you around.

Maybe they're not perfect for every occasion. True. But they deserve credit as the workhorses that they are. Who protects your tootsies from communicable grossness (did you know ringworm and athlete's foot are pretty much the same thing?) from the locker room floor? That's right, Crocs. And who happily pairs with cottage cheese, strawberries, or bacon? Our trusty and good friend cantaloupe is here to serve as needed.

So, that's cool. I shall embrace my love of flat and sensible shoes but be certain that having shiny gold sandals in in the far reaches of the closet offers me some peace of mind. They may get brought out into the light of day but a few times a year but they offer a promise-- a promise of sunny parties to come and opportunities that stretch beyond the daily glamour that is the grocery.

But I will remember who's there to do the heavy lifting and who is there to pick up the slack. So, I happily choose the cantaloupe for many of my melon needs and remember to take notice of all that it offers. High-five, melon. Thanks for being you.

2013-01-29T19:46:00.000-05:00

I love my daughter's bedroom. I'm sitting in it now as I write this while I listen to her sing in the bathtub. It's pure contentment, I tell you.

Looking around her room, I see marionettes her grammy and grandpa brought her back from India. There's a 3 1/2 foot Cinderella curtesy of her other grandparents-- a hula hoop, a Winnie the Pooh piggy bank covered in Japanese writing from a Jungle Jim's adventure, a bookshelf filled with much loved books from her Amah and others, and more dress-up clothes than I thought able to fit in a closet.

It's not the Ikea furniture or the college era futon that now serves as her bed that moves me to near tears. It is how the room evolves and continues to change filled with treasured artifacts and mementos and favorite jeans so loved they get worn two days in a row.

Hers is not the room it was when she was born nor is it the room I envisioned for my child. In fact, the first nursery that occupied my imagination belonged to my son-- my first born who died 3 weeks before his due date-- who never got to sleep in his bed, or have a favorite sweater, or chew on the board books mommy and daddy bought before his birth.

I look at her dolls and my chest tightens. I don't know if there's a word for that but it's some sort of intense appreciation for my daughter. I know her favorite color and what her voice sounds like. I know she loves to sing and hates lady bugs. I look around and see the physical evidence of her presence on the planet, and that is what brings me to tears.

Eat Your Greens

2013-01-28T20:13:00.001-05:00

Simple truths can be so elusive-- like trying to catch a scoop of clouds with a colander. Everywhere pithy sayings are bandied our way. Clever quotes, trite cliches, the overused adage get lobbed carelessly through the course of a typical conversation with the profound truths that they contain widely missing their target almost every single time.

Some times are special though. There are moments when you "get it." You know, like, really get it. That silly little phrase that's been a part of your parlance for decades suddenly becomes a shining beacon of insight.

Eat your greens is one of those sorts of things. For how many generations have we been chastising our kids and ourselves to eat fresh fruits and vegetables? I'm guessing many, many, many.

We all know you should eat a bunch of fresh fruits and vegetables every day. Grab an apple; seems easy enough. But it's not. Those small but mighty acts of will which lead you to the fruit bowl for a snack rather than microwaving a slice of leftover pizza are like mini miracles that we must conjure up time and time again.

Nothing worthwhile comes easily, as the platitude goes, and this is true! Why go through the hassle of washing lettuce everyday for a salad? Why not just opt for the pizza? Ice cream clearly tastes better than bananas unless you're a crazy person. It is because it really does make you feel better. Different. Younger. Who knew? Oh, yeah. We all knew.

And those little Cutie clementines? Those things are tasty. Roasted brussels sprouts are really easy to make, taste good, and look really cool sitting there on the roasting pan all slicked up with olive oil and sparkly salt crystals. Now, if I can just turn these acts of will into habit, I'll be good as gold.

Ant and the Grasshopper

2013-01-22T16:40:00.001-05:00

I was never much of a saver as a kid. My sister was, though. She would set financial goals for herself, knew exactly what she wanted to purchase with her savings, and made it happen. Can you imagine setting, following through, and reaping the rewards of a well thought out financial plan? Amazing. She also charged very reasonable interest rates when her 11 year-old sister (that would be me) came to her for the occasional loan.

Are you all familiar with the story of The Ant and the Grasshopper? The grasshopper fiddles and plays all summer long instead of preparing for the grueling winter to come. The ant, not to be caught unawares by the brutal elements, spends his summer collecting food and supplies to weather him through the snowy storms ahead. Predictably, the grasshopper regrets his reckless decisions when winter arrives and must beg for help from the ant to survive. The old school version has the ant standing by and allowing the grasshopper to perish. Our kinder, gentler, modern version has the ant lecturing the grasshopper as he invites him in to stay for the remainder of the season.

Can you guess which one I am? Which one are you? My grasshopper tendencies have me cooking an entire package of bacon during a singular cooking event because I just can't stop myself-- no thought of breakfast for tomorrow!

But, learning from both experience and fables, I squirreled away the bacon fat from the latest bacon cook-fest for another time. That time is today.

Biscuits and Gravy

Biscuits (adapted from King Arthur Flour)

Ingredients:

3 C of flour (I used King Arthur Whole Wheat White)
1 tsp of salt
1 tbs of baking powder
1 tbs of sugar
6 tbs of cold butter cut into chunks
1 C + 2 tbs of half and half

Bacon grease for greasing the pan.

Directions:

Preheat 10 inch oven-safe skillet at 425° for 20 minutes.

Whisk flour, salt, baking powder, and sugar in large mixing bowl.

Using a pastry cutter, or whatever tools or expertise your experience suggests to you, cut the butter chunks into the flour-mix until the mixture resembles a coarse meal sort of thing-- crumby.

Then add all the half and half at once, stir firmly and with purpose so that you can fully combine the mixture in under 10 turns of a large wooden spoon.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface (counter or large cutting board, etc...) and knead about ten times.

Pat into a squoval shape disk that is a bit less than an inch thick. Using a pizza cutter, knife, pastry scraper (what have you) to cut the dough into roughly 2 inch diamonds or squarish shapes (no leftover scraps!).

Carefully remove heated skillet from oven and grease hot pan (using a paper towel)) with bacon fat.

Place biscuits in skillet, return to oven and bake at 425° for about 16 or 17 minutes.

Gravy

Ingredients:

Cooked and crumbled breakfast sausage (one pound) set aside in bowl
2 tbs of bacon grease
2 tbs of flour
2 1/4 C of milk (true story-- I used a mixture of nonfat milk and 1/2 & 1/2)

Directions:

In the skillet used to cook the sausage (a 10 inch skillet), add 2 tbs of bacon grease and heat until melted over medium/medium-high heat.

Add flour and cook for 1-2 minutes (should be bubbly and a light amber color). Add milk in a steady stream while CONTINUOUSLY whisking the gravy.

Bring to just a boil and let bubble softly for about a minute. Season with 1/2 tsp of salt and a few grinds from the pepper mill.

Add sausage and stir.

Will there be enough for leftovers? I guess that depends if you're a grasshopper or an ant. Or maybe you're just hungry.

Shut-in, No More!

2013-01-14T19:49:00.000-05:00

I don't get out much. It's true. The time in my life that was punctuated with bi-monthly "girls nights" has long since ceased to exist. This is fine with me. I love hanging out with my little family either at home, the Mexican restaurant, the Thai restaurant, or the local sports bar (whose happy hour prices more than make up for my distaste for sports).

However, when that rare opportunity to hang out with my lady-friends presents itself and all the necessary stars align, I snatch the chance right up! Such an occasion presented itself over the weekend, and I had a grand time.

My friends, R and R, and myself visited Nicholson's Gastropub on Saturday evening. Fun! It's a neat place. It leaves you with the impression of polished brass, burnished wood trim, pipe smoke (of which there was none but still, it has that kind of vibe), fancy peaty scotches, and attentive food and service.

We had the beer cheese and spinach dip to start. I'm very rarely disappointed in creamy/cheesy appetizers and this was no exception. Both went quite well with my beer (Chimay in a brandy snifter kind of glass) as did my chef's burger. Dear lord, that was good. Some kind of truffle oil aioli magic with pork belly and baby arugula (green leafy vegetable, thank you very much) atop a giant well cooked burger with a brioche (I believe?) bun and fries fried in duck fat. Decadent.

I'll be honest. When I heard there was no cheese on my burger, I was a little sad. After I tried a bite, I realized that any addition of cheese would have been WAY too much. In fact, it probably would have ruined the whole thing. Oh! And the ketchup! I forgot to mention the homemade ketchup and my slightly disturbing obsession I had with it-- combined with the fries it was a borderline addiction.

The lobster macaroni and cheese was good and dessert (Sticky Toffee Pudding?) was REALLY good, but oh that burger-- a glorious celebration. I can't believe I brought home leftovers for my husband. I am a saint, if I do say so myself.

Keep Trying

2013-01-11T19:13:00.002-05:00

Every year, I make a point of trying, or retrying as the case may be, Dr. Pepper. I still hate it. But who knows? One day... One of these days, it could all change. It will probably also be the day that I suddenly like olives, shredded coconut, and nerve-up to try the eel from the sushi bar-- like a lightning strike-- zap! This day, I trust, will someday come.

Hasn't happened yet, though. And, while I still avoid crunchy peanut butter, candied sweet potatoes, and cilantro, I feel compelled to state that I have made great strides. I like mushrooms! I like raw onions, crudite (raw veggie bits), raw fish (and the roe!), squash, funky cheeses, and all kinds of things I'd cross the street to avoid as a kid.

Oh, those poor kids. They have such tender and sensitive palates. Not me though. Black coffee, beer, wine, bourbon, hot sauce, onions and (back in the olden days) the occasional illicit cigarette killed off the unnecessary taste buds that only hindered my culinary experiences. Textures that once repulsed became captivating. Flavors that were once overwhelming became exciting! These are just more examples as to why being a grownup is awesome.

This is why I'll keep trying to like root beer (Dr. Pepper's old school predecessor) and all those other flavor-challenging foods that get placed before me. Because, when you finally like them, they are amazing. And also they foretell of awesome food fun to come. Next stop? Sunny-side-up eggs.

Too Cool

2013-01-07T21:49:00.000-05:00

The first time I went to Disney World (and yes, I'm referring primarily to the Magic Kingdom), I was 10. All I remember are long lines and whiny kids-- myself included. I was much more impressed with Epcot. "Mexico" blew my mind. It was certainly the most authentic night time fiesta my limited world experience could conjure up. "Canada" was really cool, too. The wrap around movie screen in the days before Imax was quite the experience. They even had bars for you to hold on to should you, understandably, become visually overwhelmed.

Naturally, I attributed my preference for Epcot over the Magic Kingdom to my cosmopolitan tastes as a well traveled 10 year old. After all, I'd been to Florida AND South Carolina, thank you very much. It was clear to me that MK* was for babies.

Fast forward 25+ years... My opinions had not much changed. Thanks to the extreme generosity of my in-laws, rather than the generosity my parents wasted on a punky 10 year old me, I had the opportunity to revisit the Magic Kingdom. I was certainly looking forward to it, but mostly it was in anticipation of my little girl getting to meet all of her princess idols. As she is of kindergarten age, this was in line with my understanding of MK's intended audience (read "babies").

Check and mate, Disney. Well played. I had a ball! The relatively cool and misty January day afforded short lines for classic and brand new rides and front row seats to razzle-dazzle parades. Princesses? Indeed. High-five from Pluto? You know it. And that 4-D movie they have had me grasping at jewels mined by the 7 dwarves like the biggest dork on the planet.

Of course I did feel a little bad hip-bumping a 7 year old out my way to shake Tweedle Dee's hand. I have a feeling Karma will come knocking over that one. Still, it was worth it. I kid! Mostly.

And as I stood in line for over an hour to meet Merida, the longest line by far, I pretended it was all for my daughter. But as my place in line drew closer and closer to my most favorite princess ever, I whisked off my golf jacket, loosed my red hair from it's haphazard pony-knot-bun thing, and got my camera ready. The effervescent charming Merida danced a jig with my daughter when our turn arrived. I made it perfectly clear to the photographer that I wanted my picture taken, too. And she and I waxed poetic on the awesomeness of being a red-head.

I had to fight down the adrenaline after the encounter to make myself bearable to my in-laws and husband who'd so patiently watched to whole exchange from the cafe across the way. It was awesome. I loved the movie "Brave" before, but having met Merida (yes, I know she's a 20 year old actress, but she's darn good!), my brain has been laser-engraved with memories and glee and a bunch of other awesome words that currently escape me. It was great.

Gone are my memories of long lines and crazy tourists having been replaced with a sense of wonderment and smiles. Disney totally knows what's up. I wonder what Epcot is like now? Hm...

* MK is how the cool kids in the know refer to the Magic Kingdom, FYI.

New to Me

2012-12-30T13:28:00.002-05:00

Well, that time of year is upon us once again. Time to enter the HGTV Dream Home Giveaway, you ask? Yes, that too, but not what I was talking about. It's New Year's-- a time of parties, fresh beginnings, resolutions chock full of good intentions, and keeping an eye out for w-2s.

Is that what New Year's means for you guys? It means none of that for me. I start my "new year" from either my birthday or the academic calendar. As far as I'm concerned, January is the middle of the year. Parties? I'll be in bed by 10:00. Taxes? Let's not kid ourselves, okay? I'll be hitting the send button on TurboTax's site somewhere around noon on April 14th.

And New Year's resolutions? I've learned that lesson. After all, starting a new jogging regimen and promising to incorporate more fresh fruits and vegetables into one's diet is clearly a springtime activity. Oh, but I do look forward to those optimistic brave souls who choose January to go trotting past my house with their super-cool new running gear. It's like vicarious exercise.

I already exercise, anyway. I should do it more often and challenge myself a bit more. But why 'resolve' to do it? I know that statistically the vast majority of resolutions are dead in the water less than 90 days after the first. Let's just say, I'll keep trying. I think that's good enough, don't you?

Ah, what the heck?! I don't want to be left out of the tradition and the fun. I'll make a New Year's resolution, too. That's right; I'll do it. I'll even say it out loud right here. Ahem. 2013 is the year, after years and years and years of dogged efforts, that I will finally win the HGTV Dream Home. Certainly, this resolution won't fail.

Who in the World is this Crazy Lady Blogger

2012-12-27T19:35:00.001-05:00

That title above is intended to be sung to the tune of "Where in the World is Carmen San Diego," FYI.

Ever since I was a little kid (and even as a grownup), I've liked to play dress-up. I would steal my mom's pretty green silk shirt for going to school imagining I was Irish. I fantasized about being an uber cool Black 20-something lady feminist sporting a neat Afro with bold gold hoops in my ears and super-chic bell bottoms ringing in change (I'm a 70's baby. What can I say?). I've tried to figure out what the Russian diminutive of Rebecca is. I've fancied myself an Indian Brahman (when doing past-life regressions, we're always princesses, yes?), I've glamorized a self-notion of myself as an Aztec priestess (I'm sure there were a couple of them in that male dominated society). Learning that the Inuit eat raw seal liver? Live changing. And what is it like to live in North Dakota? I have no idea.

Maybe that's why I like reading so much. With the written word, you can slip on someone else's shoes and prance around the globe and through time. Now, I don't proclaim to really understand, in the true sense, what others than myself experience, but it's fun to try. To get into the heads of strangers is an exciting possibility. And the writings of others gives us the chance.

I think that's why I majored in anthropology (and why I love reading). The differences amongst populations and individuals are superficial but the essence that binds humanity is what is true. Every distinct grouping of people have particular beliefs as to an "afterlife." We all love, cry, covet, and dream. I remember a professor of mine commenting on the ties of culture. Even your rebellion has human definitions. Your goth look only provokes those who know of it. Cats don't care.

Food is so personal. I've mentioned it before yet I don't mind repeating the thought. When you explore how other people eat, you get into their psyches. My mammaw's biscuits and gravy have worked their way into my heart in a manner than can never be duplicated at this stage in my life. When I went to my friend, Daljit's house, and her mom made black dal and chapati for me... Well, it was like letting me look into their medicine closet. In fact, we tried on each other's wedding dresses that day.

So, when I read about things like the average person only reads six books a year (a generous lie, by the way), I think we should read more. We should stretch out, shake hands with the 'foreigner' across the way (whoever they may be-- sometimes the foreigner is you!) and widen our experiences. It's fun, it's tasty, and it's wholly fulfilling.

Cabin Fever

2012-12-26T13:12:00.002-05:00

So, a little about me then... I am not a Black Friday shopper. Never have been, and barring some unusual change of circumstances, never will be. Seeing the stories on the news, much less actually participating myself, gives me an anxiety attack. And since I already have all the electronics I care to own, I feel I'm covered. By all means, don't let that stop you! I like reading the news stories the following day after all is said and done. Please don't deprive me of my voyeuristic pleasures.

My aversion to Black Friday shopping should not be confused with a general disinclination towards the occasional episode of manic shopping. Far from it! However, my guilty pleasure is "white death" grocery shopping. I love it. That first measurable snow fall has everyone scrambling for salt, loading their carts with more bread and milk than could be consumed comfortably in a month's time, and don't forget the adult beverage aisle. I know I won't.

After the electric buzz of the the grocery comes the quiet calm of being snowed in. The serenity of the falling snow marred only by the occasional rumble of a snow plow is a joy. The only thing lacking is wafts of vanilla, sugar, or yeast dough rising to crown lovely snowy days such as these. So, with my hard won prizes from the baking aisle, I'll make pizzelles (with my super-cool new pizzelle maker-- Thanks Bill and Deb!).

Pizzelles

Gear:
pizzelle iron

Ingredients:

3 eggs
1 tbs of vanilla
3/4 C of sugar
1/2 C melted butter
1 3/4 flour
2 tsp of baking powder
1/4 tsp of salt

Directions:

Preheat iron per manufacturer's instructions.

Combine flour, salt, and baking powder in a large mixing bowl and whisk to combine. Set aside.

In the stand mixer's mixing bowl, combine eggs and sugar. Using whisk attachment, mix on medium high speed for about 4 minutes until thick and pale in color.

On medium speed, gradually drizzle melted butter and vanilla into egg/sugar mixture until combined.

On low speed (stir setting) add flour mixture being careful not to over mix. In fact, why don't you just use a whisk and combine the wet and dry ingredients manually.

Using a cookie scoop, add a scoop of batter to the appropriate spot on the hot iron. Cook per manufacturer's instructions (mine are finished when the light turns from red to green).

Transfer to a cookie sheet to cool using a flipper so you don't burn your fingers. They'll crisp up as they cool (so you can snap off the extra bits to make them their intended pretty circle shapes) but are pliable when warm. So, you can be all adventuresome and experiment with shaping them while they're still warm. If you're weathering a blizzard, you've got some time to kill, so may as well.

Sprinkle with powdered sugar, make some coffee, and watch it snow.

Bourbon Balls

2012-12-19T10:34:00.001-05:00

I submit this recipe for your perusal in order to satisfy a special request from a friend. As I have a nut allergy, I also do it with a note of protest. I shall not take pictures as I will not be making it. I will not bring nuts into my house. One could say I'm nutty enough as it is.

Yet, people love these things. I hope my mom doesn't mind me spreading the love, as it were. So with that, I present to you...

Bourbon Balls

Ingredients:

6 ounces of chocolate chips
3 tbsp of light corn syrup
1/4 C of bourbon
1/2 C of sugar
1/4 C of vanilla wafer crumbs (about 38 wafers)
1/4 C finely chopped walnuts (blech!)
confectioners for rolling the balls around in

Directions:

Melt the chocolate in the microwave (medium/large microwave safe bowl). Stir in corn syrup, bourbon, sugar, cookie crumbs, and walnuts. Use either a cookie scoop or tsp (heaping tsp in this case) to scoop mixture then roll between palms into a ball. Drop formed balls a few at a time into bowl with powdered sugar to coat. There you have it, you crazy kids, you! Enjoy.

Busy-Busy (Cheater Candy Cane Cookies)

2012-12-16T15:46:00.005-05:00

There was a time, long ago, when I thought I was busy. I would go to the grocery store AND the post office all in one day. Exhausting, I tell you. I would go outside to move my potted plants hourly so that they were always in the sun. I'm sure their little green lives depended on this micro managing (eye-roll). Once a month I would have to pay the bills, too. Luckily, I was organized enough to schedule an entire day for that chore. In my defense, that was back in the days where you actually had to write checks which, of course, is why I needed the stamps.

I was even more ridiculous than that. I would schedule emergency manicures when a hangnail appeared (my rent was only $370 and included heat!). I would have to attend a talk on the latest discoveries from Troy. A couple of times I even had to go to the library when it was dark outside. Dark, I tell you! And 3 times a week, I had to work a four hour shift at the Indian restaurant up the hill. I was very busy.

Occasionally, I want to go back in time and lightly smack that 20-something me on the back of her professionally cut and colored head. Clearly, she had no idea what busy means. My notion of busy is much more, shall we say, harried now. Sometimes, I'm pretty sure, should a mirror present itself, it would reflect the the crazy haggard-looking lady that the neighborhood kids dread trick-or-treating from. But you'd better believe that mirror would also show me doing about 5 different things at the same time.

Most of this frenetic activity is my own doing. I don't have to make Christmas cookies every day of December. No one twisted my arm forcing me to enroll my kid in ballet class on the other side of town. Nor, is anyone forcing me to home school. And, in the summer months, I still move my potted tomato plants around to chase the sun; I can blame only me.

But I'm learning. I'm finding short-cuts. There are methods that allow you to have things as you like while finding ways to economize time and maybe preserve your sanity, too. Maybe. I have a favorite trick right now that allows me to be both a cookie junkie while being able to pocket an hour of my life I may have otherwise whiled away quite unnecessarily. This trick has a name...

Peppermint Snowball Cookies

Ingredients:

2 1/2 C of all purpose flour
1 tsp of salt
2 sticks of butter (room temperature)
1 C of powdered sugar
1 egg
2 tsp of vanilla

2/3 C of powdered sugar
8 candy canes

Directions:

Either using a food processor or a zip-lock bag and a rolling pin (or other bludgeoning tool), pulverize the 8 candy canes together with the 2/3 C of powdered sugar. Set aside for topping the freshly baked cookies, which leads me to...

...The actual cookie. In a large mixing bowl, combine four and salt. Whisk together and set aside.

In a stand mixer, combine butter with 1 C of powdered sugar. Turn the mixer onto lowest setting to keep sugar from exploding everywhere.

Once the sugar is no longer endanger of taking to the air, scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl (after you have turned off the mixer). Then continue beating the sugar/butter on medium speed until fluffy (about 1 minute).

Scrape down the sides of the bowl again. Add egg. Here's a tip. First crack the egg into a little bowl before adding to the mixer. That way, you can remove any bits of errant shell before they get lost forever in the cookie dough. Beat the egg and vanilla into butter/sugar mixture for about a minute.

Turn off the mixer and scrape the bowl (using a spatula) again. Take the flour mixture and gradually add to the butter/sugar/egg/vanilla mixture. 1/2 way through adding the flour, turn off the mixer and scrape the bowl again.

Using a cookie scoop (about a tablespoon size), scoop gobs of dough onto a silpat or parchment paper lined cookie sheet.

Bake in a 375° oven for about 10 minutes. They should just start to turn a little golden on the edges. Remove from oven and mound with powder sugar/candy cane mixture.

Et voila! Oh, dear heavens, these cookies are terrific!

Now, how in the world is this saving anyone any time? Well, you see, these were originally candy cane cookies so you had to color 1/2 the dough red, roll out dough-snakes, twist them together, shape into candy canes, and then you would only get 9 cookies IF you were lucky! But, if you still have the time and wherewithal to get emergency manicures, then by all means, candy cane shape away! Not me though. I'm to busy getting chunks of holiday candy out of my hair before I happen by a mirror.

I'm Sorry. Could You Repeat That?

2012-12-10T17:25:00.002-05:00

Happy birthday to me. Bah. Humbug! Ah, what are you gonna do though. One foot inexorably placed in front of the other marching blindly towards oblivion... I can't believe no one's hired me to write birthday cards. Ha! I kid (mostly).

Anyway, a kind and dear friend of mine stopped over to wish me well on this anniversary of my birth. This delightful lady, who happens to be a medical professional, started lamenting about the insults of age. Do things look blurry to you sometimes? Yes. Have you noticed that your metabolism is slowing down? Well, I've noticed I've become markedly more lazy, which is saying a lot. However, I refuse to affirm any age related dulling of metabolism, so there.

Have you noticed your hearing getting worse. No. My ears do ring sometimes though.

? Have you noticed your cheeks flush?

Yes. Why are you asking me this?

I think you have high blood pressure, she says.

Oh yeah? Well, I think you should put down that baked ham, cheesecake, and potatoes au gratin I made for dinner and take a hike!

I'm kidding (a little). Fine. I should eat more fruits and vegetables. And by doing so, it would not only lower my blood pressure and cholesterol, but it would reduce my "hypocrite quotient" as I chastise my kid for her aversion to that which is green. Baby steps, though. Baby steps. I present to you...

Spicy Cauliflower

Ingredients:

1 head of cauliflower rinsed and cut into florets (you know, like, little bouquets)
[Or, you can poke a few wholes in a bag of frozen cauliflower and microwave it for 3 1/2 minutes. Still go ahead and drain it then let rest on paper towel to dry off some more]
2 tbs of canola oil
2 whole cloves of garlic
1 tsp of ground cumin
1 tsp of curry powder
1/2 tsp of mustard seeds
boiling water for blanching cauliflower

Directions:

Carefully add cauliflower florets to boiling water and blanch for about 1 minute (or microwave the bag of frozen).

Drain cauliflower and place florets on clean towel (paper or otherwise) to dry while you heat and flavor the oil.

Heat a large and heavy skillet (cast iron, anyone?) over medium heat for about 5 minutes. Add oil. It should turn shimmery (like blacktop-mirage on a hot summer day kinda shimmer) right away.

Add whole garlic cloves, cumin, mustard seeds and curry powder. Cover pan with lid and let spices and oil co-mingle and cook for 3 minutes (you should hear the mustard seeds start to pop).

Remove lid, add cauliflower, increase heat to medium high and sauté for 3-4 minutes stirring it around until evenly coated.

If your friends and family say they don't like it, just pretend you can't hear them.

Ramblings of a Mad Woman

2012-12-06T10:17:00.000-05:00

It will be a sad sad day indeed when I finally lose my mind. Mostly, it has served me well, and yet, this month may be the one that finally pushes me over edge. It all started with an impulse purchase to buy some more of that semi-disposable plastic ware one uses to store leftovers. Seems innocent enough, until I try to put it away, that is.

Then the popsicle molds get displaced. No worries. I'll just fill them with orange juice and stick them in the freezer. No room in the freezer. Okay, I'll just clean out the freezer first. Wow! Look at all those packets of frozen pureed spinach and squash down there at the bottom. Ah, yes. When the idealism and romanticism of motherhood was strong in my heart and I thought my daughter would never notice the Savoy cabbage puree I had snuck into her organic yogurt she would soon come to despise.

By now, the compost bin was overflowing with these ancient veggie-sicles so off to the backyard to empty it, I go. Gah! ^@!^%%&@!! The blasted raccoons got into the trash! Okay, I'll clean that up, resume taking out the compost, finish cleaning the freezer, and stash the newly filled popsicle molds. And, it's terribly cold outside so I scurry back in as quick as I can to wash the grossness from my hands.

Oh, look. My daughter, making the most of my brief absence, is now hosting an intimate tea party for her and 20 of her closest Barbie/princess friends. What is she serving (or rather sloshing all over the living room couch)? Why, unfrozen orange juice popsicles, of course.

Three Sheets with a Rim-- Wish List Item #6

2012-11-30T10:14:00.001-05:00

Hanging out in the kitchen, hiding in the shadows cast by the considerably more glamourous stand mixer and food processor, is the rimmed baking sheet (officially referred to as the half sheet pan) working dilegently at your behest. Would you like to make a jelly role or a buche de noel? You'll need a rimmed baking sheet.

Would you like to roast asparagus in the oven without having the wiley green spikes suicidally rolling to the oven floor? You'll need a rimmed baking sheet. Do you have a giant potted plant indoors that, when watered, is bent on destroying your wood floors? Why, yet again, the trusty rimmed baking sheet comes to the rescue.

And last but not least, want to keep your kid from glittering up every surface in the house when making Valentine's Day cards for Grammy? Paper, glue, glitter tidily confined by the 13" x 18" x 1" demensions is the rimmed baking sheet. I wish I had four of them, but I'll settle with three.

Every Bird Needs a Nest-- Wish List Item #5

2012-11-20T13:14:00.001-05:00

I don't know if you're aware of this or not, but Thanksgiving is a stone's throw away. Google it if you don't believe me. So, it seems appropriate that this item gets bumped up the queue a bit. What could this must-have item be? I bet you could guess. Can you guess? Why, it's a roasting pan, of course! Get a good one and you'll be able to bequeath it to your favorite relative when you die.

What to look for:

1.) It would be nice if the handles were bolted in as it would be a shame if someone's shoddy soldering resulted in you holding nothing but handles with a broken bird and a calamitous mess at your feet.

2.) Heavy. Sounds like a bad idea with the added weight of the bird coupled with my aversion to exercise, but the heavier pan will distribute the heat more evenly with fewer hot spots helping the food to cook more evenly.

3.) Has a rack for the bottom. Using a turkey as an example, the rack will allow hot air to circulate under the bird so that the skin can crisp up all around. Guess what. I lost my rack. So, now, my skin on top looks like it's fresh from the South of France in August. The bottom looks a bit more similar to my own complexion in January. Don't judge. I wish I still had my rack. I guess that is what a wish list is for.

4.) Happy Thanksgiving!

Teflon is for Sissies-- Wish List Item #4

2012-11-19T09:57:00.002-05:00

My cast iron skillet sits atop my stove everyday. That is where it belongs, not hidden buried beneath stacks of cookie sheets and lids. Without it, my grilled cheese sandwiches would lack personality. With it, though, I can give a chunk of beef tenderloin a beautiful crusty sear and then finish it off in the oven without having to switch pans. With my cast iron skillet, I can caramelize the brown sugar and pineapple on the burner, add dollops of cake batter, and transfer the whole kit and caboodle into the oven for a spectacular pineapple upside down cake.

There are many wonderful things about that skillet. Number one, you will be hard pressed to find such a high quality pan at such a low price. They are usually under $20. I bought mine at Kroger. They have them on Amazon. I believe that the only American made producer is Lodge. That's the brand I have.

Another highlight of this creation is that they are easy to care for. After it's been seasoned (heat the pan, turn off the heat, grease the pan, wipe it down, repeat a few times) it starts to develop a nonstick surface that is maintained by NOT WASHING IT! Just wipe it off with a clean rag (you can use a paper towel, but it'll leave little fuzzies behind). If it gets really messy (see pineapple upside down cake) scrub it clean with a paste of coarse salt and a little water. No soap! If you do soap it up, you'll just have to re-season it, is all. No biggie.

It can handle really high heat and distributes it nice and evenly. That's how you get those beautiful sears. It's not just for high heat, though. If you preheat your pan over medium heat for 5 minutes, your grilled cheese will cook perfectly at two minutes a side. You can pretty much set the timer and relax.

Last but never least is it's tendency to share some of it's iron goodness with your food. If you are low on iron, the pan will actually add iron to your diet. If you need to avoid iron, you probably shouldn't cook with a cast iron skillet. I love my skillet, and I think you would love yours, too.

Many Bowls for Many Jobs-- Wish List Item #3

2012-11-14T13:01:00.003-05:00

Sometimes, I think I have too many mixing bowls. Then, a holiday arrives and that silly notion is quite efficiently banished from my head. I have glass mixing bowls, stainless steel mixing bowls, and cheerful brightly colored plastic mixing bowls. I even have a pottery one that is coated in a radioactive lead glaze (vintage Fiesta, you know). While it's beautiful, it's also toxic and might give you brain damage so I use it for decoration only.

The others get quite a workout, though. Not only are they terrific for their stated purpose, you know, mixing, but their utility is not limited to that function alone. Oh no. Fill the huge metal one with ice, nest the second biggest one in the ice and it'll keep your potato salad chilled at your next summer gathering. Use the glass ones to make one of those layered salad-dip sorts of things and you can see all the cool layers. Use them as serving dishes in a pinch and... And. Okay, confession time. It is possible that I've eaten cereal out of them instead of handwashing a dirty bowl from the dishwasher. So, they aid the lazy as well. Thank goodness.

So, do I have too many mixing bowls? I say, "no." Still, I personally won't be putting them on my Santa list, but don't let that discourage you!

*Random Note--

When choosing a mixing bowl for whatever task that is at hand, remember it's better to err in favor of choosing the larger bowl rather than the smaller.

Your New Best Friend-- Wish List Item #2

2012-11-13T15:20:00.000-05:00

Cooking without at least one good knife in your arsenal is a miserable experience. Years ago, a friend of mine enlisted my help to do a bunch of prep work for a party she was hosting. I happily agreed. While I had a good time at the party, I almost sawed off several of my fingers in the time leading up to the soiree at hand. So, do you know what I got her for Christmas that year? A good chef's knife.

I have a Henckel, some prefer Wustoffs (or one of a 100 other different brands) and now I think those sweet Japanese (Samurai!) chef's knives are all the rage. My friend, Tim has one, and I'm quite jealous. Still though, mine is perfectly adequate so I can't justify an upgrade at the moment.

Are your knives adequate? Do you have a chef's knife that you can sharpen (or one of the ultra fancy kind that don't need sharpening?)? Because if you don't and you have any interest in cooking, then you need to upgrade, STAT! Seriously. A knife can change your life.

Some knife rules:

A falling knife has no handle. If you drop a knife DO NOT TRY TO CATCH IT! Just stand back and hope for the best.

A dull knife is more dangerous than a sharp knife. If the blade is dull, you'll push harder, the food will roll, and there goes the tip of your thumb. If your knife is sharp, the blade and the weight of the knife will do the lion's share of the work for you.

Store your knives properly. Use one of those knife blocks, I've a got a wooden organizer thing that fits in a drawer, and the chef-types use special canvas bags that roll up nicely. Storing the knives this way rather than tossed haphazardly in a drawer keeps them from dulling and/or damaging each other's blades.

Well. That's all I've got for now. Here are some knives to look at and happy holidays to you!

Knives from Sur La Table