Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Christmas is Coming!

I know I said I was going to post my booty from my grandparents' house, but it turns out, I cannot find it. I think I left the boxes at home and was going to bring them back next trip aka Thanksgiving. My car ended up being filled to the top after Thanksgiving weekend so I'll try to shove them in the car among the first thing upon arrival. That way, I can always say, "Sorry Mom! I can't fit all that food in my car in case I get stranded on the side of the road because I have to make space for other things," or "Sorry Dad! I can't fit a guitar in my car to deliver it because of the cats, presents, and the food Mom managed to sneak to my car when I wasn't looking. There might be some room in the cat carriers if you're interested?"

Like I mentioned, I'm taking the cats home this Christmas because I'll be gone for a week and their Grammy (aka my mom) wants to see her grandkitties since it's been so long. Last year was the first year I took them home and they had only been in the car a couple of times to go to the vet and once to move. Needless to say, they hate the car. All but Sylvester, but he doesn't mind much of anything. Except for a dirty litter box. 

So last year I decide to get a game plan as to how to transport the kitties home. Giraffe had told me to get some Benadryl to give them to knock them out. The only kind I could find was bubblegum flavored. I tried Sylvester first but he freaked out like I poisoned him and threw it all up. I'd throw up too if it was bubblegum flavored, so I didn't fault him too much for that. So that was out.

So then I just start wrestling them into the carriers. Sylvester is the easiest to catch, so I thought I'd get him last. I knew I had to get Caramel in first because Butters would absolutely die if he thought he was being separated from sister. At this point, the cats are already understanding what's about to happen because they see the kennels in the living room floor. Now, Caramel is the smallest and most agile so catching her was going to be a challenge. She could fit under most anything. Luckily, I got her pretty quickly into the carrier after she made herself look like a big "X" trying to get her through the doorway. 

Next came Butters. Butters is lazy, but as soon as he understood that I was about to shove him that big scary-looking gray box with his sister, he became active. I had to grab him by his scruff to put him with Caramel. Then the screaming started, and I'm not talking about just meowing from frustration. No, this was "Mommy's trying to kill us! Help!!" screaming. Eventually, Butters wore himself out and hyperventilated on the way home while Caramel put her face on her big brother's back to make him feel better. (I'm saying "aww" at the memory. I can't help it.)

Sylvester I just walked up to and led him into the carrier. He was all excited looking around like, "We're going for a ride? Where are we going?" like a dog minus the drooling. Butters was doing enough of that by freaking out.

I finally get them to the car with the rest of my packed things and I'm on my way. Sylvester was making a racket in his carrier, so I let him out with me. He's perfectly fine in the car just wandering around to look out the window and sleep in my lap. So I let him out since his noise could be upsetting Butters and Caramel. He got down in the passenger side foot at one point, and we're not even out of the city yet, and I hear the noise that makes pet owners (and parents too, I guess) cringe: Sylvester was throwing up. At that exact moment, I smell something that is not vomit, and want to die. It's coming from the carrier holding Butters and Caramel. Butters backside has completely exploded, and Caramel is up against the side not wanting to get dirty (she's kinda prissy like that). 

I pull into the first gas station I can find, which was a very shady-looking one, but I didn't care. I had a situation on my hands. Well, their paws. Anyway, I have to keep Sylvester from running out the car door (that happened later in the trip...an old guy thought I was under his car talking to the air as I tried to coax Sylvester out. Turns out he really is like a dog and came when called. I'm not sure the old guy ever saw the cat and continues to think I'm crazy) while assessing the situation. I take Butters out of the big kennel to put him in Sylvester's, but his paws are covered. Thank goodness I had the foresight to put Wet Ones in my car months earlier. I earned Mom points that day, let me tell you. So I get him cleaned up and placed in the smaller kennel for the time being. I get some paper towels from the squeegee stand to clean up the kennel and my floorboard. Again, so glad I had used a friend's idea and put bathmats in the floorboards to make them softer and easier to clean. When I start mopping up the vomit, I realize Sylvester didn't just throw up on the mat. No. He also threw up on my purse. Thank goodness it wasn't cloth, but still. I'm thinking, "Can my luck get any better?"

It can. The whole time I was at the gas station cleaning all this up, a bunch of rednecks in beat up trucks are watching me do this and pointing and laughing. If only I could have made Sylvester attack on command. Not to mention, that whole episode with Sylvester jumping out of the car when I stopped to fill up with gas halfway home. I was so happy when I finally got home.

So this Christmas, I plan to not feed them a day in advance to make sure they get everything out of their systems for the ride. They can gorge themselves when they get home if they want.

I will now leave you with the "family" Christmas card this year with the precious felines. Since getting them all together is so much fun even when a kennel is not involved, I took the easy way out and used a Photoshop alternative.
 
Merry Christmas!

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Christmas Movies

Yeah, I still haven't updated about the big move-out at my grandparents to show off what kind of things we took back because I haven't uploaded the pictures off my camera yet. I am the absolute worst about that. I have pictures on there that my half-sister Deedar is going to want from my trip there before Thanksgiving when I met her husband's family. People depending on me and I'm dropping the ball over and over. *sigh*

My Thanksgiving was lovely. I only went to two this year: Giraffe's dad's place and then my parents. This was only the second year I've had turkey at Thanksgiving because we always had hen. My grandfather didn't like turkey because it made greasy dressing and gravy. I never noticed the difference. Poultry is pretty much created equal in my world.

Before I left for Thanksgiving, I put the tree up (sans decorations but that should change tonight) and Christmas is on the way whether or not I'm ready for it. I'm planning on making most of my presents this year and I need to wrap that up. Not physically wrap them up, but finish. Although I do need to wrap them up after I wrap them up. Nevermind. Moving on.


While I was at home, we put up the big tree and started the long Christmas movie list. There are certain must-see's that I watch at holidays. Christmas has the longest list and I've already got A Charlie Brown Christmas and Garfield's Christmas out of the way. There is also a list of movies that I want to watch for Christmas, but if I don't get to them I'm not going to be as upset as if I missed a movie on the first tier.
  1. First Tier
  • Ernest Saves Christmas
  • Muppet Christmas Carol
  • Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas
  • Elf
  • Claymation Christmas
  • A Charlie Brown Christmas
  • Garfield's Christmas
2. Second Tier
  • It's A Wonderful Life
  • A Christmas Story
  • Miracle on 34th Street
  • Love Actually (an anytime movie but revolves around Christmastime)
  • White Christmas
  • Home Alone 1 & 2
And speaking of Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas, Foodie informed me yesterday that it's being made into a musical! Paul Williams, who wrote the songs for the movie as well as other Muppet movies, will be back to write new songs for the musical. It will be a mix of human performers and Muppets. I am going to have to find a way to see this. I have to see them sing "Barbeque" in person, and you will know me in the crowd of people by the big squealing mess.


Monday, November 17, 2008

This and That

*peeks around the corner* Is it safe to come out? Does anyone hate me for the huge gap in postings? Did anybody even notice? Regardless, here are some updates:
  • Yeah, uh, life sorta got in the way and I got a little frazzled. Okay, really frazzled because I felt like I had no time to do anything I wanted to and lots of other little things building up. Everything's cool now. Even though I'm about to get really busy making all my Christmas presents this year, but that's at least something I want to do and have been looking forward to it for some time. I will keep you posted on the gifts I am making, minus the ones that are going to those who read this. 
  • This past weekend I had to move all my mom's things out of my grandparents' house (this one), which wasn't as sad as I thought it was going to be since what made the house special is gone. The warmth has now been distributed in a few other places in my life, so the spirit will live on and its former home, my grandparents' house, will not be forgotten.
  • I got a lot of cool stuff from the house this weekend! Pictures to come, along with the tales of the trip. Nasty in-laws up ahead.
  • Soon, it will be time for Christmas music and putting up the tree! Hooray!

Thursday, August 21, 2008

New Music

I kept hearing this song that sounded like something straight out of the 60s a while back and on an episode of Grey's Anatomy. I absolutely loved the song wondering who this was, what the name of the song was, etc. but then was quickly forgotten as I got absorbed in the Meredith/Derek drama or the Callie/Haun innuendo or whatever was going on at the time.

Thanks to my new handy dandy iPhone, a music-identifying program called Shazam, and some luck, I heard the song on the radio last week and discovered it was a lovely Welsh lady named Duffy.


After listening to all the songs on YouTube, I decided it was worth spending some of my iTunes gift card credit on. It's reminiscent of Dusty Springfield, The Supremes, and Martha and the Vandellas. I can envision some lazy Sundays with this in the background and making pies.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Project: Curtains

A few weekends ago, I had started my curtains thanks to my mom coming to town for the weekend. When she left, all I had to do was sew up one seam, make the tabs, and sew the tabs to the curtain. I let that sit for about three weeks because I got too busy.

But I finally got my act together, and with the help of Giraffe, I got all the tabs turned right side out and sewn to the completed curtain. Now, I only have to do it for another curtain so I can have two. Previously, the window was covered with a piece of navy fleece boasting turtles all over. The sun would shine in through the turtles making a strange, suncatcher effect. Plus the fleece wasn't big enough to cover the window so sunlight peeked around the edges trying to burn my eyelids. Before the fleece, I woke up at about 5 a.m. every morning to intense sweating. It felt like I had fallen asleep on the beach with the perks of the beach. So the fleece was the only option until I could make the curtains.

When Mom and I went to Jo-Ann's, they were having a massive decorator fabric sale so I got a ton of fabric to make plenty of curtains. As for the lining, they were having an even better sale on Blackout lining, which lets absolutely no sunlight come through the fabric. Regularly about $7 a yard, I got it for $1.50 a yard, which was cheaper than regular lining. Score!


I'm very happy with the outcome. Not only do I get to sleep in peacefully, I have a very pretty curtain that matches my room. In addition, I'm trying to nest more and not have so much blank wall space, have a recurring theme, etc. It's coming together slowly but surely.


And let's not forget all the help I had in putting these curtains together. Sylvester made sure to hold my fabric in place so it wouldn't fly away. Thanks, buddy.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Boyfriend Chronicles, Honorable Mentions

I sound like a terrible person right off the bat by prefacing my story with labeling it "honorable mentions." But that's what they were. There were two guys in high school that I didn't exactly date, but I learned something from the "relationship" all the same.

1. Honorable Mention #1 aka HM1

I met this guy in my C++ programming class. Yes, I am a geek to the core. The class was taught my the band director, so I knew it'd be informative as well as entertaining. Originally, some of my girl friends were in the class, but dropped out because they thought it was boring, or something. (Maybe I can get some clarification on this?) So that left me as the only girl in the class, which was fine by me. I ran with the boys anyway.

So there was this one guy who was in a grade older than me that I had noticed in class only because I didn't know him from band or was in my grade. I didn't think anything of him until he one day appeared at our lunch table. HM1 struck up a conversation with me, which was totally out of the ordinary since I was not the girl that got picked out of a crowd. Well, for anything positive. Maybe for noticing my singing/dancing in public or interesting fashion sense. (I wore a lot of pajama pants in public in high school.) Anyway, he continued to talk to me as the days went on and eventually, somehow, we became a pseudo "item." At least, that's what I thought we were. Things took a strange turn after he had spent all this time flirting with me, then asked advice on how to get one of his ex's back that he still cared for. Being the person that I am, I gave him sound advice which appalled him thoroughly. Especially considering the game he was playing with me that I had yet to figure out. He wasn't after that or anything. I think we only kissed once. Turns out, he was using me to get a better grade in C++. He knew I was in with the teacher and enjoyed programming so my grades were good. HM1 was a special kind of individual. I'll also point out that he had a bad habit of running his mouth and told some colorful stories about when he tried to "enjoy" a car's tailpipe. *ahem* And around the fire station (I used to hang out with he, B2, and HM2 at the station being a junior explorer firefighter. Random, yes.), his nickname was "Sweet Cheeks." I'll just let that one hang in the air.

2. Honorable Mention #2 aka HM2

I knew HM2 from band. He was in the same grade as HM1 and B2, a grade ahead. HM2 was in the drumline, like me, but only marched my freshman year. He played in the concert band afterwards, so we knew each other pretty well. Eventually, he and I ended up hanging out a few times and had begun to flirt innocently back and forth. One day in his truck, he had that look like he was going to kiss me, but chickened out. You'd think this would be a sign, right? I took it to be that. But after that, he just sorta disappeared. Since we were sorta friends first, I was curious and made sure things were alright, but he was evasive. Once I finally got ahold of him, he told me had cancer and was freaking out. I was completely shocked! I mean, we're only in high school! He said he was going to the doctor the next day and was pretty scared about it, so I said I'd come over afterwards to see how he was doing.

I was true to my word and showed up the next day at his house. He was very strange and didn't want to talk to me, so I thought things had gone pretty bad. I left and we didn't speak again. Then I get some more news about him later that was even more shocking that his potentially having cancer. He lied. He didn't have cancer. He only said he had cancer just to not have to go out with me. There are no words, to this day, that I can find to properly convey my feelings towards an act like that. You'd think I'd have a complex at this point.

Lessons learned: 1.) Guys can have extreme tunnel vision for what they want (i.e. good grade); 2.) People can totally lose their spine when confronted with an uncomfortable situation; and 3.) I can hold my own in a fight. See, after our "fling," HM1 made the mistake of saying I was a prissy girl and, to make it worse, in front of all the firemen at the station. So I laid him out flat on his back on the concrete behind the fire truck in front of all those guys. Guess I stayed in his mind after all this because just last week, I got a friend request from him on Facebook. Still not sure about that one.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Projects, Projects, Projects

As I mentioned earlier, I had started a few sewing projects last week, and I finally made some progress. My mom came in over the weekend and helped with Project #1: Curtains. She had made curtains a really easy way, so I had to rely on her to convey the pattern in her head. You can imagine there were times where I had a blank stare. Okay, that was most of the weekend. But, I did manage to get a panel mostly done. All it needs is the tabs. Now, only 5 more to go...


Project #2 was a hobo bag sew-along on Threadbanger that I wanted to participate in. I love that style of bag and wanted something else to take all my junk to work in rather than the blue Kroger bag I normally tote. And to make things even better, this bag is reversible depending on my mood. Do I feel black paisley swirlies or pink stripes? More than likely, it'll turn into a year-round bag with the black paisley for fall/winter, and the pink stripe for spring/summer.

Only problem with this project was the pocket. The directions said to sew interfacing to the pocket, turn right side out, and then sew it the already-sewn lining piece. In this case, it was the pink stripe. Next time I make one, I'll be sewing the pocket on before I sew the seams of the lining because trying to stuff an interfaced piece of fabric under the arm of your sewing machine is no fun. Oh yeah, and I'd trim the seams on the pocket to make it less bulky when sewing the corners. Gah that was a pain. Overall though, it turned out pretty nice. The paisley almost makes it look like there's no seam since the pattern is all swirly.


Project #3 (which was actually the first project I started): Mending Victoria's dresses. One of them I had to get done before she went to the beach (in a few weeks) and the other two I had more time. However, the straps were the only things that needed fixing, so I did all three in about 15 minutes. I had been hesitant to start with them because I was still learning the ins and outs of my new machine, so by the time I had an understanding of it, I already the right color thread loaded and ready to go for both the curtains and hobo bag.

For her dresses, I used transparent thread so I could use it on all three dresses without having to match all the colors. However, transparent thread turned out to be nylon thread, and I hope to never work with it again. Imagine very thin fishing line. It's all unruly, doesn't stay on the bobbin, and is so thin I had to hand-crank the machine because once you pushed the pedal to make it go fast, the bobbin thread broke. I sewed the straps 3+ times each to make sure they weren't going anywhere. So Victoria, you should be secure in your new dresses. A tropical storm at the beach will be no match for this stitchery.

Monday, July 21, 2008

Project: T-Shirt Recon 2

Over my birthday weekend, Mom gave me a sewing machine she had acquired that was different than the little Singer I normally use. This new one could zigzag! I have a lot of projects I need to finish, so I needed to test out the machine to make sure I didn't ruin the future projects.

I dug out my trash bag of clothes going to Goodwill and found 2 shirts. One was a Pirates of the Caribbean shirt Mom had saved cheese UPCs in order to score a free shirt. I love Pirates, but I already had an umpteen amount of T-shirts in my closet.


I also had a rugby shirt I got on sale at Goody's a few years ago. I like rugby shirts, but orange is not my best color and horizontal stripes are not my friend. The colors complement one another and stripes are very piratey.


I cut off the sleeves of the rugby shirt (thinking I might use the body of it for something else later on) and the Pirates shirt making the Pirate sleeves more like cap sleeves. I also cut off the neckline to make it scoopier and the bottom hem of the T-shirt. Next, I cut one sleeve into strips and sewed them together. Finally, I sewed the sleeve around the bottom of the Pirates shirt to tie in a knot on the side like a sash.


I'm really happy with how the shirt turned out. I think I need to add a dart to the underarms because since the T-shirt is big, the sleeve holes were big and is trying to look like a muscle tee. I think I may also alter the shoulders by cutting out the seam and using leftover rugby sleeve to make criss-crosses up the shoulder like a shoelace to eliminate that linebacker shoulder effect. I already have manish shoulders and don't need any more bulk. Thanks for the shoulders, Dad.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

My 25th Birthday Party

Every year for my birthday, I spend it with my mom and dad at home. Mom asks what I'd like for my birthday meal, then all day at random times I ask what was happening X amount of years ago, and then I get the story of how I was brought into this world. It involves Dad going over 100 mph, Mom going down a drug-induced "rainbow-colored slide," and Dad being half-naked in the waiting room. The story never gets old because it's so funny.

Also, there's a theme every year that used to be left up to me. I've come up with Rescue Rangers, Snoopy, 1950s, Catwoman, etc. For the past few years, Mom has done all the planning and surprises me with a well-thought-out theme. Two years ago it was Pirates of the Caribbean complete with treasure chest cake. Last year it was the 24th Annual Bessie Awards that was basically Hollywood-esque with my name in lights and a cake that was like my star on Hollywood Boulevard, including me getting to put my handprints in the cake. This year, it was my favorite Disney movie, Robin Hood.

Wanted posters were all over the house.

On the morning of my party, Mom came into my room reading a proclamation on parchment announcing that the "fair maiden Bess" was to celebrate her 25th birthday. This proclamation was also featured on the front door attached to the wall with an arrow. Next to that was another "tree" with Prince John looking sneaky.

"Prince John" with his crown as well as money bag party favors.

Mom bought a little cat purse to go with the table centerpiece that could have gone for Prince John, but the real reason was because it looks like my cat, Butters, which happens to be her favorite. Can't wait to see if she shows favoritism to real children one day.

Robin Hood in the trees in Sherwood Forest and Sir Hiss in his balloon at the archery tournament.

Edited to add: It's been requested that I tell why my dad was half-naked in the waiting room. I was born several weeks premature so when my mom went into labor, she thought it was just false labor "because the book said so." So Mom and Dad weren't in go mode. Hence the 100+ mph car ride. Anyway, they rush into the hospital and whisk Mom away so she could go do her thing. Dad had to change and went behind a screen that was nearby. Well, in the middle of changing, his screen starts moving. As in being carried away by a couple of guys. Finally, he gets to Mom and gets to hear her scream away, which she doesn't remember. Only the rainbow slide. After I was born, I had to be transferred to another hospital because I was so frail. Dad was a trucker, so he had to make a run that evening right after I was born. He drove from Louisiana to Tennessee without stops and had guys basically throwing stuff to go quicker so he could get back to check on me. Turns out when a 6'7" guy tells you to hurry up so he can get back to his baby girl, you listen.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Gravy School Dropout

So I get back on the phone with Deedar because I had it in my head to make country fried steak with white gravy last night. However, I ended up staying late at work, had a small lunch, and was famished by the time I got back, so that idea flew out the window. I thought I'd save it for another day. But I was going to go ahead and practice with the gravy since my previous gravy didn't turn out so great.

Deedar starts telling me to leave some oil in the pan from the steak, but like I said I didn't do that, so I just got out the ol' grease tin and spooned out some bacon grease. I think it was about two tablespoons worth. Then she says to add the milk. No quantity, just "the milk." I really truly admire those that can just whip something up with no recipe and it come out tasting fantastic, but I'm not one of those people yet. Anyway, I just throw some milk in there and start stirring. I'm always afraid of scalding milk, so as soon as I see a tiny bubble, I throw "some flour" in the mix and keep stirring. She tells me to try it, and try it I did. It tasted like paste. So I add some more milk and keep stirring. Now, it tastes like oil. Milk equals oil now? Geez.

I ended up throwing the "gravy" away because it was just awful! I didn't have the heart to call Deedar back up and say I failed the gravy lesson since she's already sounded exasperated that I had to call a second time. She's also threatening to school me in the ways of southern cooking. Although, let's face it. I could use it right about now. I can't even make a simple gravy. *shame*

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

My Sister, the Original

I visited my sister, Deedar, over the past weekend and reconnected with family I haven't seen in several years, which was nice. This family included my youngest brother Rock, my dad's sister, my niece (older sister's kid), and her two kids which are my great niece and nephew. That's fun to point out since I'm only in my 20s. That's what happens when your oldest sister is approximately 23 years older than you and her eldest daughter is 2-3 years older than you as well. Anyway, on this trip, stories were shared, recipes swapped, and the baby sister was made fun of immensely. That'd be me.

Rock and Deedar

Let me start by saying that my sister Deedar is the original tomboy housewife. I was completely unaware of this until last weekend. She's twenty years older than me and I've spent a collective 5 years around her since I was born, but we're pretty much identical. She would rather mess with cars than paint her nails, she used to get kicked out of school for fighting (never got kicked out of school and only got in one fight that ended after one punch), and she hates, above all else, shopping (don't mind it as long as I have a list and/or the time). Especially for groceries, which was why when I first arrived, I didn't eat until about 11 the following morning when her husband took pity on us and bought us Subway. Thanks, Croc. I owe you one. Well, two. He took me for a ride in his newly purchased 1968, in perfect condition, Camaro. I think there's still a pile of drool in their garage from when I first saw it.

Croc and his 1968 Camaro

When I had to leave on Sunday, the original intent was to grill, and Croc wanted steak. However, this meant that one of them was going to have to go the store again since I had already been out once and was still trying to enjoy my sister's company before I had to leave. So grilling was out. But after inventorying the previous night's purchases from Kroger, Deedar settled on pork chops.

Her secret is to completely cover the flour mixture with Tony Chacere's and garlic powder. In the egg mixture, she puts Paula Deen seasoning and hot sauce. Dip the chops in both of those and you're ready to throw them in the oil for frying.

My oldest niece and me

I decided I'd try this last night since I had seen it done and they were amazing. Sidenote: I actually don't like pork all that much, but a general rule of thumb with me is I'll eat anything fried. Anyway, everything's going great until I decide to slice into one and instead of staring into the other white meat, I'm looking at a basically raw pink pork chop center. So they had to go in the oven and lose all their crispy goodness.

The next plan was to make gravy like Deedar had taught me (with water of all things. This was a totally foreign concept.) since I had decided I was going to try my hand at my momma's biscuit recipe. Now, those turned out find except I rolled the dough out a little too thin and they were a little dense. Still ate them though. Anyway, back to the gravy. I'm stirring and I'm throwing stuff in the pan and everything's going smoothly because the roux is now the perfect gravy color. So I start adding water. The only lesson I got out of this gravy experience is water equals sludge. The gravy ended up looking like pudding. I added more oil and then more water, but never did get it to a pourable consistency. I'm going to try to pass it off on Giraffe and hope he likes chunky gravy. Blech.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Shake It Like a Salt Shaker

I had always wanted one of those thin stereos that attach to the bottom of one of your kitchen cabinets so I could sashay in the kitchen to my favorite tunes when cooking. Then I got one of those stereos that you set your iPod in and quickly disowned the cabinet stereo idea. With the iPod blaster, you can play specific playlists, even one you have set up just for cooking quiche or pies. Or in my case, you just play feel good music to let your happiness spill over into whatever you are preparing, like accidentally spilling too much thyme in your salmon patties when there isn't even thyme in the recipe! You'd be amazed how it clumps together in egg yolk, which makes it easier to fish out. Moving on.

I have determined the best music to cook to is what iTunes deems as the "vocal" genre. Call me crazy, but isn't it all considered vocal unless it's clearly instrumental? Anyway, vocal consists of greats such as Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. Not only is it happy music, but you can get lost in a daydream of fedoras and dames while listening to auditory velvet. (Doesn't Ol' Blue Eyes just sound like velvet feels?) I keep listening to "You Make Me Feel So Young," which was used recently in the movie Elf when Buddy and Jovie are on their date. Elf is one of my favorite movies, so in addition to it being a good song, I smile imagining Buddy skipping around Manhattan.

Other good music and food pairings include Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, and Black Sabbath. Just kidding. Unless you were ripping apart a roast chicken. Then it only seems fitting to pair a bird with Ozzy.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Maybe I Need Cinderella Mice?

Does anyone remember the pants that ripped? Well, they ripped again. I have no idea how it happened this time. I just happened to notice it on a trip to the bathroom when I had been at work for hours. I didn't remember hearing a rip noise. And of course, the shirt I was wearing wasn't long enough to cover the hole. Nope, it was dead center. So I have two choices: 1.) Wear my coat for the rest of the day and it happened to be an unusually warm day in the office. Normally it's like a meat locker most days; or 2.) Figure out a way to fix it. Luckily, Victoria was able to help with the second option.

She pulls out a small sewing kit left from the a previous legal assistant who had tried to repair a torn silk skirt. For those of you taking notes, silk isn't exactly cooperative when it comes to repairing. Anyway, I spend part of my lunch break fixing the quarter-size hole in the seam of my dress pants. So now I'm even more skittish to wear these pants since I machine-stitched them closed. I just have to face the harsh reality of perhaps the pants are too small despite fitting everywhere else perfectly. *sigh*

I normally wear a pair of plain dress pants to work, so they're kinda my favorite. They had also had a previous touch-up because the shotty factory hemming came undone. So I bust out my handy dandy needle and thread and go to town. Everything's great until I start noticing that after one washing, some of the threads are loose. "Oh that's just from the previous sewing job since I didn't cut the extra threads when I was repairing them." Nope. That'd be my sewing job that's unraveling. So today again during my lunch break, I'll be borrowing Vicki's sewing kit (at least I brought my own thread this time) and fixing my pants in the handicap stall. I should just set up shop there. Be my own little tailoring side business. Just have people who need repairs leave their items in the handicap stall on my floor. Or even better, repairs while you wait. You're already able to be preoccupied being in the bathroom. Or not.

Thursday, April 10, 2008

Funky Chicken, Revisited

I decided after yesterday's rant, I would give the chicken another try. Start off slow by cooking the chicken in something per Victoria's suggestion to ease myself back into the poultry world. So I went to Campbell's website and poked around because I had heard they had easy, quick recipes involving, big surprise, their soups. I stumbled upon this one and thought it'd be the perfect stepping stone. I mean, it's pasta! It's kinda hard to screw up pasta. Oh wait.

The ingredients were simple: Cream of Mushroom soup, pasta, parmesan, milk, pepper, butter, and chicken. I substituted margarine because it was what I had out in the butter dish all cut up, but it didn't make a difference. The only glitch was I used the whole box of pasta thinking it'd be plenty for leftovers, but it only made the sauce not go as far. So next time, I'll either cut back on the pasta or increase the sauce. Crazy how those directions work.

I was concerned about how the Cream of Mushroom soup would taste as alfredo sauce, but it was actually great. I think I'll add more cheese and maybe more milk to the mixture as well as maybe some Italian spices. Overall, the dinner was a success. Not to mention, I have enough leftovers for 2 meals. Hooray!

However, there was one thing about the meal that made me sad. I guess I should have taken a picture of it, but I couldn't bring myself to. My grandparents, to whom my lovely cast iron skillet belonged, are spinning round and round in their graves. I let pasta touch the pan. And alfredo sauce. What kind of Southern girl am I? But! On the bright side, the pasta was probably given a hint of bacon flavor due to the seasoning of the skillet. As long as bacon's involved, I'm saved, right?

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Funky Chicken

I've come to realize something the more I've experimenting with cooking more: I can't stand the taste of chicken.

In restaurants, it'll be marinated with some goodness and/or deep fried and/or smothered with some cheese, onions, or sauce. There's just something that I can't do to the chicken to make it taste good. And forget reheating it. That makes the natural chicken taste extremely potent. I swear I'm not crazy.

Surely there's someone else that understands me. No? Yeah I'm not surprised.

I'll just stick with cooking fish and steak. At least those I know I can do with little to no failure. Unless it's in gumbo or under the broiler. Then funky chicken might be sounding better.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Over the River and Through the Woods

Over Easter weekend, my mom and I had to begin the painful process of moving our things out of her parents' house. My grandmother died in 1997 and my grandfather put up a good fight until last February when he couldn't bear to be without his beloved any longer. My grandmother's memory was everywhere in that house, so I wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't lurking around watching us grow as well as drop by to hold my grandfather's hand as he went.

That house is, and will always be, magical to me. I spent every Christmas there and it was always exciting to be going to see my grandparents. We'd load up the car and make the 4-5 hour trek through the mountains and beautiful countryside. They lived in a small town, population around 200, and owned 200+ acres of land.


The house was built in the 1900s by my grandmother's family and once my great-grandmother died, it was given to the youngest daughter, my grandmother. The other sister already had another family house across the street, so the family remained close in the small town. My mom moved to that house when she was about 6 years old and spent every Christmas there as well. You can imagine how hard our first Christmas was at home. Anyway, Mom took me to visit often and I have countless memories hiding behind every corner of that house and the land.


That pen between the lower shop and the Potato House used to hold sheep and goats. My earliest memory of playing around the house was going out there to pet the goats and then climb on the feeders in the back of the pen where it opened up to the rest of the pasture. I always wanted to be able to climb that tree.


Next, there's the water tower that's in front of the main gate for the pasture where all the sheep and goats would run up if they thought they were going to get a treat. In addition, blackberries grew wild around the water pump and Mom and I would pick enough for a pie in the summer. When I was really little, there used to be horses there, including my mom's horse growing up, Dandelion, that she would enter into jumping contests. Side note: this horse never would jump over anything she couldn't see through. Dandy would somehow sidestep the jump and send Mom flying over the jump without her. I doubt they gave Mom points for her "graceful" leap. Dandelion is actually buried to the left of the picture in the pasture. I also had a game for the water tower where I would try to balance and walk all around the bottom pipe without falling. I'd pretend the center was a pit of alligators or I had to save someone tied up on the other side or whatever. The plot would change, but the game was always the same.


That's the upper shop. It was where my grandfather would make his clocks and chairs. That place had all kinds of fun toys in it; however, saws and the like make Mom nervous (my grandfather lost most of his finger in one), so I wasn't allowed to touch anything. In the attic housed all kinds of historic goodies like ox yokes, a pony buggy, and old telephones. To the left of the shop was another way to get to the pasture: crawl through the barbed wire. At the mulberry tree were big round, concrete tubes that the goats would play on as well as me. My worthless cousin and I would jump around on. One time as were coming back to the house, he held the wire for me to crawl through. He let it go too soon and it punctured my leg leaving an oval scar. It's still there on the inside of my left thigh. It's a wonder I didn't get tetanus from the fence. That jerk.


This is the back door where I would run to be the first one in the house and hug my grandparents. To the left is the cellar where old plates and jars were kept. I was never allowed in there growing up because my mom is afraid of snakes and knew they'd be lurking about just waiting to sink their teeth into me. So I was always afraid of the cellar. Still kinda creeps me out. There used to be rocking chairs on the porch that my grandfather would sit in and watch his tomato plants grow in the summer. Also, there used to be around thirty cats living on this property and you'd always see them curled up asleep in various places on the porch. I used to look forward to summer when I knew there'd be cuddly new kittens to play with. Next to the rocking chairs used to be an old butter churn that I would pretend I was a pioneer girl helping Ma make butter. This house was perfect for pretend.


When inside, there was all kinds of old clothes and accessories to play dress up with. My mom had plenty of colorful clothes from the '60s and '70s as well as cute '50s style dresses that never fit me quite right because of my man shoulders. (You can start to see how I evolved into a tomboy...I had shoulders bigger than the guys!) Anyway, I mostly ran around playing outside when I came over because of all the land and fun things to play with including livestock, tractors, and hay bales. I had so much fun. However, on those occasional rainy days, I had my inside games as well. I made a library with my grandfather's books, played Indiana Jones discovering ancient artifacts in the attic, and played with some of Mom's old toys and games that were still around pretending I was her.


That ledge on the right side was where I played Indiana Jones when I got to be outside. I would map out elaborate escape routes if the house was taken over by the enemy, which is coincidentally the same thing Mom did once. There used to be a rail around that part and once her and her best friend mapped out an escape route. They tied a rope from the rail to the ground and were going to slide down it. The plan was perfect except they forgot to consider their weight. Mom went down first and took the rail with her. I never acted out my escape routes except to climb on to the ledge above the window. I just knew I could make it to the balcony; however, I never tried. I was too scared of falling and breaking something on the concrete. Like my face. When I got older, I would go up there to read and enjoy the breeze and fresh air.

We still have things in the house to get before it's given to my worthless cousin, so I can capture some more images of my youth and salvage a little more family history. I would love to have this house be mine, but I know things will never be the same. I'm having hard time separating common sense and sentiment. Call me crazy.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Random

First, thank you, Foodie, for making my day. Second, this may help with the following image complete with Pop-Up Video!, which totally needs to make a comeback. I'm just saying. For those few of you who didn't like Pop-Up Video, there's another version of better quality that features the Rick Roll, which is a little to close to my little dance I do when I'm sitting and want to get my groove on.

I promise a real post soon.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Organization (cha cha cha)

This is going to sound crazy for those who read this and work with me, but I love the organization at work. Not the part where the people before me organized and labeled wrong, but what I do like is that everything (seemingly) has its own place. Or at least ample space for things to have their own places. At home, I don't have that luxury. The selling point for my current apartment was the fact that the units came with either a fireplace (fun at Christmas, not fun for a hot-blooded person like me) or built-in bookshelves. I immediately requested a unit with bookshelves and would not settle for one with a fireplace. It was that important to me. Anyway, one day I would love to have a room (or multiple rooms) with wall to wall bookshelves so I can keep my movies, books, cookbooks, etc. I always loved the grand library in those manors in older movies.


So because I crave organization (I bet my Giraffe is laughing at this statement), I am in love with websites that help me out. Thanks to Posie, I discovered a wonderful little community that helps you organize your knitting and crocheting projects. At the moment, you have to sign up to get on the waiting list because it's in beta mode, but soon that will not be the case. It's called Ravelry (cute name!) and here's a peek at what it looks like from the inside!


It reminds me of another one of my favorite websites, Goodreads. Goodreads allows you to set up an electronic library of the books you have read, are reading, and want to read. Gone are the days when I would wander around the bookstore or library aimlessly asking myself, "Now, what was it I wanted to read?" If I remember to check my list, this is no longer a problem. It's also a nice way to see when you read a certain book to bring back childhood memories. I have everything on my list from the Boxcar Children books that I read in elementary school to things I read in my college lit class like Gilgamesh and Dante's Inferno. If you can see in this little picture, the last book I finished was "Big Boned" by Meg Cabot. Fun little read to fall asleep to.


I'm currently reading 4 books, which is a first for me to have more than one book at a time, because I feel the need to satisfy those different parts of my brain. I have a health book, a biography, a bestseller, and now a book on CD that everyone read in middle school to listen to
while driving to work and everyone is either road-raging, applying make-up, or fighting to stay awake. Not me. I will be reliving those awkward moments of my youth where no one felt pretty and everyone was singing Bush and Nirvana. Yeah, I'm a young'un.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Hillbilly Housewife

I discovered the Hillbilly Housewife blog before I started my own, which would have been about 3 months ago. I was (and still am) in need of trying to figure out how to live on a tighter budget as well as bite the bullet and cook for myself more than I was eating out. This site was perfect! It gave me a plethora of ideas as well as delightful insight to keeping your family fed.

You can learn such handy bits of information such as:
  • Feeding your family for $45
  • Items that are always a bargain
  • Ways to cut corners
  • Recipes
  • and more!
It's a lot of fun to just to browse, but you might find yourself picking up a tip here or there.

P.S. - I'm still sick, but better. And according to my scale this morning, I've dropped around 10 pounds in a couple of weeks. Either 1.) Those were some heavy germs! or 2.) The scale battery is dying. I'm hoping for #1.

Monday, March 17, 2008

I Need My Momma

It's that time of year when the weather starts changing, flowers start poking their heads out of the dirt to reveal beautiful colors, and people get sick. I am one of those people today. Giraffe got the flu a while back when it was going around, and I had something not as bad before that. I think that "not as bad something" is back with a vengeance.

Normally people have that one home remedy that claims to cure all ills, such as whiskey and lemon, honey, or a good batch of chicken soup. My family doesn't have anything like this. We're not even a big, affectionate type family. When I was younger, I was heavily into sports, which left me wide open for an injury. Before one of the games, the third basegirl and I were tossing the ball around to warm up. The coach came up to talk to me, but Third Basegirl didn't notice. So all of a sudden I hear my name called in a frantic manner, I turn, and wham! Softball to the forehead. It swelled up so big it looked like I had a golf ball under my skin for a couple of weeks. Normally when something like this happened, the mom of the injured player would come running onto the field all in a panic that their baby had been hurt. (See Bill Engvall's "T-Ball and Indian Guides" on his album, Dorkfish.) My mom, on the other hand, would glance up to make sure I was alright and when she assessed that I was, remained seated on the bleachers. My tangent is to demonstrate how when people get sick in my family, you don't get doted on, which is mostly the way I like it.

I do, however, like when my mom would peek into my room to ask if I "needed anything" and sometimes I would, such as another glass of Tang, bowl of soup, or popsicle. She didn't come in, pat my face, check my temperature every five seconds, and tuck me in so tight I couldn't breathe. This is apparently what growing up was like in my Giraffe's house. Yikes.

I wish I had a great soup recipe to share. Not to mention, something that would make me feel better than I am right now. I guess my version of chicken soup at home is something I think about when I get sick. Mom always had alphabet noodles on hand so I'd pour in a handful of those in some chicken bouillon and add some Paul Prudhomme poultry seasoning when it was done. There was also soda in the house at all times so I'd drink it to settle my stomach with my soup.

I guess overall my family has a hodge podge of things that help when I get sick but most of all, it's just the presence of loved ones nearby that does the trick. Luckily, I get Good Friday off and will be trekking home to settle some more of my grandfather's estate as well as gather up my mom's things from the house. Many pictures to follow because that place is a housewife's dream. Or anybody's dream, really. You'll see.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Loveless Cafe


Last night, Giraffe and I met Victoria and Bo to eat a local favorite, the Loveless Cafe. It's the "meat-and-three" to end all meat-and-threes. With its rustic charm and Southern appeal, it's one of the city's hot spots and causes a 2+ hour wait on Sunday afternoons. Here's a snippet of their history from their website:

Originally known as the Harpeth Valley Tea Room, The Loveless Motel and Cafe first started serving its famous fried chicken and biscuits in 1951 when the property was purchased by Lon and Annie Loveless. They set up picnic tables in the front yard and sold chicken from the front door to travelers driving up and down US Highway 100. Soon the Loveless family converted the rooms of the early 1900's home into the dining room and kitchen of the Loveless Cafe and enlarged the menu to include country hams that were cured, smoked and carved on the premises. Lon Loveless ran the motel and handled the hams while hungering crowds were drawn to Annie's homemade preserves and from-scratch biscuits - one of few secret recipes that has remained unchanged to this day.


Vicki and Bo had never been so it was a lot of excitement to try to contain. As you can see, Vicki couldn't hide it any longer once we visited the Hams and Jams gift shop.


Around the restaurant are other shops including a bicycle shop, art store, and a clothing boutique. Not to mention, other items of interest including:

Photo opportunities,

swings (looks like she's got a secret, eh?),

and a tractor.

Before we had left from work, another friend, Foodie, was giving us the rundown on what to eat. He suggested fried chicken, meatloaf, hashbrown casserole, lima beans, and sweet potatoes. Not all at the same time. I don't think. He also took a picture of the neon sign at night that inspired me to do the same. Although his was taken in the rain and reminds me of the Bates Motel, which makes me very happy in my warped mind. Let's compare! Mine is first, his is second.



I also recommend that you go listen to The Red Stick Ramblers' song "That's What I Like About the South." It's as if they came to the Loveless for dinner and wrote this song at the table.


Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Bread Bricks

This past weekend, I got the urge to make some bread for the office since I usually try to make something new to bring in every couple weeks or so. The recipes I had in my newly assembled cookbook (pictures to come) weren't speaking to me. Instead, I decided to make yeast rolls to go along with the already planned recreation of one of my favorite meals at Texas Roadhouse, Roadkill. Roadkill is chopped steak with onions and mushrooms smothered in either gravy or Monterey Jack cheese. I opt for cheese and no mushrooms. Usually, Giraffe gets a sweet potato, so I did sweet potato fries since I do not like sweet potatoes any other way. Now, the arguably best part of Texas Roadhouse is the butter that goes with the rolls. Cinnamon butter. *faint*

So I get to searching on my favorite recipe spots and find this one on All Recipes:

INGREDIENTS
  • 2 cups hot water
  • 1/2 cup margarine
  • 1/3 cup white sugar
  • 2 teaspoons salt
  • 1/2 cup cold water
  • 2 (.25 ounce) packages active dry yeast
  • 5 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 eggs
DIRECTIONS
  1. Melt margarine in hot water. Add sugar and salt and stir. Add cold water and yeast. Stir to dissolve yeast.
  2. Add 3 cups flour and mix. Add eggs and 2 1/2 - 3 cups more flour. Mix, cover and let rise until dough doubles in size.
  3. Punch down and let rise 30 more minutes or until doubles.
  4. Make walnut size balls of dough. Place about 2 inches apart in well-buttered 9 x 13 inch pan. Bake in a preheated 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) oven for 30-45 minutes. Brush top of rolls with margarine while hot.

One of the cool things about this site is its ability to modify the recipes by changing the quantity and it adjust accordingly. I halfed it and was in for a surprise as I was adding the flour. Notice the second step where it says "add 3 cups of flour...and 2 1/2-3 cups more flour." This did not change when I modified the recipe to half. So right before I blindly did as the recipe asked, I did the oh-so-difficult math in my head.

"It asks for a total of 2 and 3/4 cups of flour...but it says to add 3 then 2 1/2-3 cups more...but...I only needed 2 and 3/4 cups flour...this can't be right."

So I changed the recipe back to its original form and found that it didn't change the directions to what I wanted. Not to bad-mouth All Recipes, because I really do like them, but just make sure you read your recipes thoroughly (preferably before you start cooking anything. I'm still learning that one.) so you don't ruin something that could have been avoided. And no, to answer your question, the gumbo couldn't have been avoided. I don't care what you say. Stop judging me!

After this hurdle, I managed to get the dough to seemingly the right texture before I set it out for the yeast to do its thing. Since I was confined to a time frame, I don't think I let the bread rise as much as it needed to. It rose some, but not quite enough in the end. I thought I was going to be real cute and roll up balls of dough and place them in my new muffin tins to make cloverleaf rolls. They turned out to be little misshapen bricks of destruction. They tasted okay to me. Just a very dense bread flavor. However, I made cinnamon butter! I smeared enough on each roll I ate, which made the rolls not so bad.

Cinnamon Butter

Ingredients:

butter, whipped (won't work well if not whipped...kinda like a man. I crack me up.)
honey
cinnamon

Mix ingredients together until it tastes good. Seriously.

I made two pans worth of rolls, so if nothing else, I can feed them to the geese. Provided I want them to sink all the way down to the bottom of the pond. Or I could use them in place of a softball. Softball season is coming up, after all.

To anyone who visits this site regularly (yeah, all of two of you), I'm trying out a new feature on the main page. Every week I do a Top 5 List a la High Fidelity. In case you don't know where it is, let me show you:


As you can see, it's right above the Flickr thingy on the left side of the page. I just throw something up there depending on what kind of mood I'm in. I'm always welcome to suggestion!

Monday, March 10, 2008

Boyfriend Chronicles, Part II

I guess it's about time to share another sordid tale of love from years past. Ha. This is still high school we're talking about, so at least there's some drama.

After my first relationship gone sour, I was enjoying the single life. However, after a while, I began longing for someone since my one and only relationship thus far had fizzled, so I was still trying to figure out how relationships worked. I had a lot of friends in the band, and because it's all one big family anyway, people tend to hear and see more than they bargained for. Let's just say everybody knows everyone's business. There are absolutely no secrets in a high school marching band.

The fall, aka marching season, of my sophomore year, we were en route to an out of town football game on the bus. I started out sitting towards the front of the bus with a friend, but wanted to talk to some more friends in the back. The only open seat was next to the big, countrified, guy who played the baritone. I had never spoken to him because he was a junior (I was still getting to know people and somewhat afraid of the upper classmen) and could be downright scary in marching formation. He would walk around and try to catch people moving at attention, when you're not supposed to move at all, as well as bark commands with his loud, booming voice. Needless to say, this big tough guy made me nervous. However, I wanted to talk to my friends and the friend I was sitting with, a senior, told me to go sit next to him. 

Me: "Are you nuts?"
Her: "What? It's only ____."
Me: "Exactly!"
Her: "Oh he's harmless."

So I suck it up and trudge back there before plopping down next to him to chat. He seemed slightly surprised by this, but was super nice. Totally unlike had seemed to me thus far. Of course, no one paid me any attention in band, but as soon as I sit next to a guy, everyone decides to turn around to take a peek. Not to mention, talk about it like it's the only topic in the world when you stop to eat and during the whole game. I was grilled more than a patty melt.

On the way back home, I sat next to him again because he was turning out to be such a sweetheart and was a lot of fun. One of his good friends was sitting nearby and wanted to put his feet up, but the guy I was sitting with had his arm behind the seat. So friend asks if he could put his arm down around me so he could put his feet up. I will never forget what he said: "Well, uh, sure, but you'd have to ask her because I don't want to crush her or something." I obliged and found myself falling for this guy. Turns out he had liked me since the summer and had been caught stealing glances at me from other band members whenever I walked by. Weeks later at the homecoming dance, one of the girls in the color guard asked him, in front of me, "Have you asked her out  yet?" He replied, "No." She chirped, "Oh. Okay!" and bounced off. I laughed at the awkwardness and he hugged me before whispering, "So, do you want to go out with me?" How could I say no to that?

We had a lot of fun together for the 4 months we were together. This relationship was so different than the first one, and gave me back my hope for love. I was able to be myself and still be liked for it. I guess being a tomboy and dating a redneck was the perfect formula. We would ride around his truck and find places to park and talk (yes, talk) as well as go out with our friends. Our song became "Red Strokes" by Garth Brooks because we listened to it one night on repeat snuggled up in the cab watching the night. I still think of him and get nostalgic when I hear that song.

But like I said, it only lasted 4 months, and that was my fault. At the time, I felt that maybe it wasn't as good as it could've been and maybe I was settling. So I called it off. I was still learning how this whole dating game worked. As soon as I said the words and saw his face, I realized what a huge mistake I had made. I tried to patch things up later that week, but it was never the same. He ended up doing something similar and tried going out with a freshman girl whom later he found in bed with another guy. We tried again after we had both healed, but we decided we'd be better as friends. We lost touch and I wish I could talk to him again. B2 was definitely one of my favorites.

By the way, the whole friend wanting to put his feet up thing? It was all a scam! The friend was good friends with B2 and had been trying to hook us up the whole time since he sorta had an in with me too. He was my drum captain. This hit me like a ton of bricks a year or two later after we had broken up. Talk about being slow on the uptake. Mind like a steel trap, I tell ya.

So, lessons learned. 1.) Realize what you have before you lose it, 2.) Even the biggest and toughest guy can be a Teddy bear (he drew pink and red hearts in a love note in Ag class in front of all his buddies to leave as a surprise in my locker one day), and 3.) How to make a cheap and effective bomb. Let's just say his redneck buddies liked to blow up mailboxes. Not that he ever did that. I don't think. He probably knew I'd kill him if I found out. Oh yeah, and 4.) Even the biggest and toughest guy can be scared of a girl.

Monday, March 3, 2008

Vegetarians and Mountain Dew

I was given a recipe from a friend weeks ago and every time I vowed I was going to do it, something happened that prevented me from doing so. Some friends from home have been getting together to cook/learn to cook and the vegetarian of the group brought this nice entree. Not only is it vegetarian, it's pretty healthy, too. It contains a lot of cottage cheese, which I am not a fan of, but you whip it around in a food processor for a while making the texture more like ricotta cheese, which I do like. I did not capture any pictures of the making process, but I did get the end result.

Now, I know it's not that pretty, but I promise you it's really good. Not to mention, they're stuffed shells and are prone to run all over the place in the casserole dish.

The recipe is displayed below and is dictated by my friend Undy since she was at the cooking lesson.

Amy3's Stuffed Shells
Ingredients:

Box of Jumbo Pasta Shells
Large container of Fat-free Cottage Cheese
Jar of Spaghetti Sauce
Can of Diced tomatoes with garlic and basil (or some kinds of italian flavorings)
Assortment of vegetables. We used carrots and yellow squash, but you could also use zucchini or some other kind of veggie like that
Italian seasoning
Garlic powder
Spinach, optional


Preheat the oven to 375.

Put pasta on to boil. You'll want it not completely done because it will still bake in the oven.

I would see if you could drain some of the liquid off of the cottage cheese then put it in a food processor or blender until smooth. It will look kind of like sour cream. Grate vegetables and add italian spices and garlic powder. You'll pretty much just have to keep tasting it until it tastes good.

Put spaghetti sauce and diced tomatoes in a pan and let warm on low. The diced tomatoes are just to give the sauce a chunky consitency and to make the sauce stretch farther, so you don't have to use them, you just may need more than one jar of sauce. If you want the spinach, wait until the sauce is warm and then put the spinach in to let it wilt.

When the shells are done, drain them and let them cool until you can easily handle them. Spoon in the cheese mixture and try to close the shells and place in a casserole dish. Spoon in some sauce to cover the casserole dish and place shells in dish. Cover with rest of sauce. Cover the dish with a lid or tin foil and put in the oven for 45 to an hour. 45 minutes worked just fine for us.

I had plenty of cheese mixture and a few shells leftover and still made about 5 servings.

For dessert, I had seen a recipe for Apple Dumplings on the Pioneer Woman's cooking site. The ingredients grabbed my attention and the picture definitely held it.

Mmm. It's like mini apple pies sitting in a sea of butter and Mountain Dew. I know, crazy, right? I don't like Mountain Dew at all, but you don't taste it. It just adds a hint of bubbly citrus. One of those ingredients that when you're eating the finished product make you go, "Oooh...what is that bit of oomph?"

Also perfect with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Dumplings a la mode. Yum.

Friday, February 29, 2008

Take Me Home, Country Roads

Last weekend I went back to where it all started. Well, sort of. I was born in Louisiana and moved when I was five. Anyway, I went home for the weekend for a much needed visit and relaxing weekend with my parents. Dad was out of town, so I didn't get to see him this trip. Since I knew I was going home, I decided to take my torn pants to fix with her gorgeous sewing machine and other fun tools. Mom was, after all, offered a job with Coats and Clark in Manhattan, but that was before my time. Good thing she didn't take it otherwise she wouldn't have met Dad and then had me. Perish the thought!


Now, you may ask, "How did your pants get torn?" It was a situation that I thought would never happen to me. I bought the pants at Macy's because I was (and still am, sadly) in desperate need of work clothes. I'm really bad about buying clothes for myself even when I really need them because I know the money could be spent elsewhere on more important things. Like food, which causes my pant size to fluctuate. But I digress. I find these wonderful, classic black and white checkered print like old man pants. Not like Dorothy from Oz kind of checkered. Anyway, they're comfortable, the perfect length, so I buy them. I had already envisioned the outfit I was going to wear to work next day, so I was ready for the morning.


Morning comes, and I shower before changing. I get everything but my boots on and when I bend down to get them...riiiiip. I stand up quickly in mild shock and confusion. "Did that really just happen? No, surely not. I have no backside to speak of!" Lo and behold though, when I looked in the mirror, there it was. A hold as big as a quarter. My first thought was, "Maybe no one will notice." Right. I think they'll notice the pink contrast in the middle of black and white fabric. So I sigh, change pants, and don't feel as put together as I originally did. I was excited about those pants.


Thankfully, the rip was just where some thread in the seam was weak, so fixing it would be no problem. So I go home and get to fixing the pants. I machine-stitched them to death so they wouldn't come undone, oh no buddy. These pants weren't going to play peekaboo with no man! Or woman. Or dog. Whatever. No one was going to see my underwear.


Mom's sewing machine is very unique in the way that it operates. It was originally a treadle machine, where you pump the foot pedal which powered the machine, going only as fast you went. Her dad, an incredible handyman, built her a motor to go with the machine that would be powered when you pushed the treadle. So her machine has the early 1900s look with the modern feel. The best of both worlds, I say! It still runs beautifully and will one day be mine. I can only hope to do it justice, and find someone to repair it if I screw up. *cringe*


Now this handy gadget is one of my favorites that I have yet to see anywhere else but firmly attached to the end of Mom's sewing stand. It's an antique pinker which is SO much easier than using pinking shears. You just feed your fabric under the cutting wheel on the left and turn the crank on the right. There's even a guide so you don't cut your fabric crooked. I wonder if Mom would notice it missing? Since I have no nifty sewing stand like she does, I'd have to mount it to something like the kitchen counter. Wouldn't that be a lovely conversation piece? Perhaps Victoria and Bo would come over, see it, and say:

V/B: "I didn't notice this last time! What handy kitchen gadget is this?"
Me: "It's a pinker."
V/B: "Oh, what does it make pink?"
Me: "It cuts fabric."
V/B: ...

Then they would probably never come back again thinking I'm crazy for having a fabric cutter right next to my toaster and mixer. Nah, I think Victoria would be pretty fascinated by it and would still come back. She likes things like that. And understands my crazy.