Ingesting Sunshine

2012-01-31T15:27:00.000-07:00

Don’t blame me. I’ve only been pregnant for eight months or so. It’s something that’s on my mind a lot, okay? So when a fellow employee asked me a question I hear quite often lately, I thought my response was perfectly appropriate.

Her: How long are you going to be here?
Me: Well, I’m having the baby on February 17th, so that’s two weeks from Friday, and then I’ll be on maternity leave.
Her: Wow, that’s coming up fast! [pause] How long are you going to be here today?
Me: Oh! To-day! Heh heh. Um, 4:30. Heh.

And then I waddled away as quickly as possible.

Getting Ready

2012-01-14T11:24:00.000-07:00

Can You Ear Me?

2012-01-04T20:48:00.003-07:00

Today at work I was typing the word ears. Typing too quickly, I spelled out hears instead. I sat there for more than a few moments, thinking I might have come across the etymology of those things that are attached to the sides of my head. Maybe they were originally called hears, I thought. Wouldn't that make sense? And then the "h" became silent, as it often does, and they ultimately came to be called ears. And maybe eventually we'll say, "I ear you" instead of "I hear you." And then I remembered that I actually had work to do and more words to type.

Just another one of my daily random thoughts. Betcha you're going to think of those things as "hears" now.

Again

2012-01-02T11:38:00.005-07:00

As I've started thinking about goals and resolutions the past few days (not thinking about making them, just thinking about them in general), I remembered that I wrote a post on the subject a couple of Januarys ago. I still feel the same way about resolutions, so I'm reposting my thoughts. (I'm not lazy about writing something new, just efficient.) And besides, I didn't want to leave out the one person who started reading my blog after that. (Hi, Aunt Edna!) So here you have, "Making Goals 2012, via 2010." Happy New Year, everyone!

* * *

After rousing myself from a sleep that didn’t begin until 1:30 this morning, trying to avoid leftover pine needles stuck in the carpet, and shimmying my way through some fierce Wii hula hooping, I finally looked at the clock and thought, “Oh, is it time to make a new year’s resolution?” Absolutely.

Not.

I’m not a fan of new year’s resolutions. Oh wait, hang on. I made one last year and actually kept it. So why wreck a good thing while I’m ahead?

It’s not that I’m averse to goal-setting. On the contrary. Goals are good. Goals are fine. Goals are all fine and good. But on January 1st, I’d much rather be lounging around, consuming copious amounts of my friend’s homemade salsa, than gnawing on a pencil and staring at a piece of paper with a lot of blank lines. (Memo to me: try unlined paper next year.)

Setting big goals at the beginning of a 365-day stretch is on par with me being flown by helicopter to the top of a snowy peak, handed some skis, and being told, “See you at the bottom.” In short: failure. So instead, I aim for little goals throughout the year. Because sometimes I just need to succeed in Goal “Get Up at 6 a.m. and Be Coherent” rather than fail in Goal “Exercise Daily for One Hour” or Goal “Take Up Knitting and Make a Sweater” or Goal “Create Zen Garden; Let Peace and Harmony Ensue.”

Small goals it shall be. They make for a better, calmer, less-stressed me. Zen garden or not.

Yes, Virginia, there are awful Christmas songs

2011-12-27T20:19:00.001-07:00

Now that my beloved collection of Christmas music has been tucked away until next November 1st, I’ve been thinking about some of the holiday tunes that I’m glad I don’t have on my playlist. “Is that possible?” you ask. “Does Christmas music exist that she doesn’t like?” Well, I’m here to tell you the awful truth. Yes. There is Christmas music out there that I don’t like. Can’t stand, actually. And here are my top five least-liked Christmas songs, from hated to most excruciatingly hated.

5. Any Christmas song that’s “phoned in” by a pop singer. Okay, I’m breaking my own rule here by listing a genre rather than a song. But there are just too many to name individually. I hear them all over the radio. Popular (for now) Auto-Tuned singers who spend a couple of days recording Christmas songs without any care or feeling. They’re just cashing in on the holiday music industry with a few vocal gyrations and some jingle bells thrown into the background. Unfortunately, their teenybopper fans take the bait. Shudder.
4. “Little Saint Nick.” This is such a cheater song by the Beach Boys. It’s just “Little Deuce Coupe” with different words and jingle bells thrown in (see #5). And it’s highly annoying.
3. “Christmas Canon.” Speaking of annoying, this Trans-Siberian round sticks in my head in a really, really bad way. I hear it once, and for the rest of the day all I have clanging around in my head is those robotic kids chanting, “Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas,” and “On this night, on this night, on this merry Christmas night, on this night, on this night . . .” ad nauseam. It helps me understand how Husband feels about “It’s a Small World.”
2. “O Holy Night.” I know, I know. I’m sure some of you are frantically sending me links to your favorite Christmas hymn to try to convert me. Sorry, don’t even try. It won’t work. This song has a beautiful message. But the famous melody is not about the meaning—it’s about the performer. This song doesn’t say, “Listen to this humble and sacred message.” It says, “Listen to ME! This is all about ME and my booming range and operatic vibrato!” To make matters worse, the only people who can sing this song without damaging a dog’s hearing are people with perfect pitch. And 99% of people who sing it (including professionals) don’t have that little skill. When I see this song on a program at a church service I desperately want to excuse myself. Aside from the choir boys at Cambridge, there is NO church choir that should be attempting this overly popular number.
1. The shoe song. I don’t know who sings this or what the real title is, but this is the one song that makes me simultaneously whack at the radio button, scream, “AAAARRRGGHH!” and throw up a little in my mouth. All while driving. You must have heard this song at some unfortunate point in your life. A cloying kid, a dying mother, something about shoes, and they even made a sappy Lifetime movie out of the song. I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it anymore because it makes my blood pressure go up, and I need to be careful with that these days.

So there you have it. My top five (or so) most disliked Christmas songs. And now I don’t have to think about them for a year.

[deep breath] Aaahhhhh.

2011-12-26T20:32:00.001-07:00

Cutest marshmallows EVER:

Christmas Images

2011-12-23T09:47:00.000-07:00

One of the first apps I got for my new phone was Instagram. I love it. (My username is jenny_rm, if you'd like to follow me.) I carry around my phone wondering what I can Instagram. (Which, by the way, I made into a verb.) Here are some Christmas images, from my home to yours. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas weekend!

I Can See Clearly Now (or, I Am an Idiot)

2011-12-20T21:52:00.001-07:00

On Saturday I opened a new pair of contact lenses, as I do every month. When I put the right one in, I knew there was a problem. I could kind of see, but kind of couldn’t. With both lenses in, my eyes weren’t focusing completely. Sometimes it takes an hour or so for my eyes to get used to new lenses, so I decided to deal with it. I spent the day squinting, blinking hard, and shifting the right lens around my eye to get a good focus. Many strangers probably wondered why I was winking at them. Cheap me didn’t want to open another lens and waste one that might be just fine. Saturday night I went to bed with a headache in my eye.

Sunday I continued to deal with it. One minute things were clear, the next, fuzzy. Driving was an issue, especially at night. Monday morning I decided if I had to waste a contact, that was better than not being able to see for a month. So I pulled out my stash of contacts. As I did so, something dawned on me. I peered at the prescription information on the sides of the two open boxes. And I realized I had been wearing two left contacts. Feeling like a complete idiot, I quickly opened a right-contact box and popped one in. I then proceeded to wander around the house exclaiming, “I can see! I can see!” I felt like I did the day I first put on glasses and realized that trees have individual leaves and not green afros.

And why am I sharing this random tale with you five days before Christmas, you may ask? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any treats to photograph because I’ve eaten them all. Or maybe it’s because I wish all of the hard decisions I have to make in life could come into focus as easily as putting in a new contact.

Treats

2011-12-14T20:48:00.000-07:00

Last year at Christmastime, I was perusing the Tasty Kitchen blog and came across a recipe for these cinnamon sugar almonds:

They sounded pretty easy, so I gave them a try. Numberless batches later, they just might become my Treat of the Season. Ready in about 10 minutes, they are virtually foolproof, and that's saying a lot coming from me. When I first started making them, I was sure I was going to burn the almonds to death, but it never happened. They are SO good. As in, I-can-easily-eat-the-entire-batch-in-one-sitting kind of good. Plus, you get a good workout because you can't stop stirring as they cook. I wish you could taste these. Or at least smell our house right now. Mmm, mmm, good.

(Unfortunately, I have not been able to find the recipe link again. I have spent an arduous few minutes searching for it. What I do for my readers! If you would like the recipe, let me know.)

2011-12-10T17:15:00.000-07:00

I'm just saying, if a little kid shows up to beat on a drum for my newborn baby, he better get the heck out of there, and take his rum-pum-pumming with him.

Early Christmas

2011-12-07T20:53:00.001-07:00

Last week, while trees were getting uprooted and trash cans were tumbling down the streets in our area, Husband and I and Husband’s parents were enjoying . . .

palm trees,

Mickey beignets,

the White Rabbit's house (and that random pregnant person who wandered into the shot; we’ll just blur out that camera hog),

a melodious blend of “It’s a Small World” and “Jingle Bells” (which Husband could only endure twice),

gingerbread-scented snow in 70-degree weather,

ginormous Christmas trees,

a ride on the Lilly Belle (Walt’s private train car, which he actually never rode in, but that didn’t make it any less awesome),

a joyous expanse of Christmas ornaments,

and benches. I didn’t get a photo of a bench, but I certainly sat on many of them while waiting for the rest of my party to go on all the rides I can’t currently go on. Don’t feel sorry for me though. What with the swollen feet and getting tired more quickly, sitting and resting throughout the day was just what I needed. And Disneyland is a great place to people-watch. Plus, I now possess the valuable knowledge of knowing where every bathroom is in the park.

The downside of Disneyland though, is that dancing is not allowed on the rides.

A little Scrooge-ish for the happiest place on earth, don’t you think?

Soon after we got back, I got a new phone. It’s pretty cool, but I’m most excited about the cover I got for it:

And yes, I am an official Disney dork.

Buen Dia de Gracias

2011-11-23T21:09:00.000-07:00

A little while ago, this came out of our oven:

I had nothing to do with it. In fact, just a few minutes later, I shamed the very same appliance by making a pot of box mac and cheese.

But back to the pastry. It is a pastafrola de dulce de membrillo. And I—with all of my olive-skinned ancestry—had no clue what that was until my Anglo Husband enlightened me recently. First I thought it had something to do with membranes. This did not sound appetizing. But, to my relief, it turns out that membrillo is quince. Well that certainly cleared things up. Um, yeah, I didn’t know what that was either. Quince is a fruit, and this pastafrola is traditional fare in Argentina, where Husband lived while on a church mission. He decided to make it to share with my family tomorrow. After he translated a recipe from Spanish, a very yummy fragrance filled our kitchen.

You know I’m not very brave when it comes to trying new foods, but I always look forward to trying new desserts. I hope you have an equally enjoyable time tomorrow. You and all your family membranes.

When you think you've seen everything . . .

2011-11-19T10:08:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been searching my local online classifieds for baby gear. Last night, I came across the most interesting ad.

"Hey, hon, this person is selling a light blue . . . AK-47??"

Classifieds are awesome.

Who, me?

2011-11-09T18:22:00.001-07:00

Hey everyone,

My writer friend interviewed me for her blog. (She must have been having a slow bloggy day.) If you'd like to read it, click here!

Upon Turning a Calendar Page

2011-11-01T10:40:00.001-06:00

In our neck of the woods, Mother Nature was kind enough to grant us a perfect Charlie Brown Halloween, with mild temperatures, crunchy leaves, clear skies, and plenty of grinning, glowing pumpkins. But she must have been waiting impatiently in the wings, because overnight she unleashed her November powers. What guise does she take on this time of year? Is she a cackling witch? A Halloween hangover that enjoys wreaking havoc with our commutes? Or is she a pristine ice queen, who takes a haughty pride in the crystalline curtains she drapes across the landscape?

Whichever she might be, I don’t want to stand around outside long enough to find out. This is my time to load up with sweaters, blankets, socks, baked goods, and hot chocolate as the circus of winter weather plays outside.

Which brings me to one of my Lists. On a recent pre-Halloween grocery list, I noticed distinct changes from my typical summer lists. Here’s how some of it read:

flour

sugar

vegetable oil

canned pumpkin (2)

pumpkin-pie spice

hot chocolate

pumpkin (whole)

kleenex

Aside from the Kleenex (I do blow my nose year-round), I usually don’t find myself buying those things in the middle of July. So I’m curious: what do your November grocery lists look like? (And by the way, is it acceptable to make hot chocolate just to spray it with whipped cream and then eat it off the top, like the liquid is just some sort of whipped-cream delivery device? Just asking. My friend wants to know.)

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T19:56:00.000-06:00

Behold, my cute-yet-one-of-the-easiest-templates-I-could-find pumpkin:

(I don't have much patience with little knives.)

And Husband's, showing his school spirit:

Our neighborhood is teeming with children this evening. Teeming, I say. By the way, what's with this new thing where kids don't carry their own trick-or-treat bags? Kids come to the door holding out their hands, looking even more like the little beggars they are. When I ask where their bags are, they say, "Oh, my mom is carrying it." Seriously? Are kids so lazy these days? If parents are concerned about their kids' caloric intake, maybe they should make them haul around their bags all night.

But I digress. I hope you all have a safe and happy Halloween!

Canine Companionship

2011-10-18T17:03:00.000-06:00

Allow me to introduce you to another neighborhood dog. (You can meet the first one here.) This is Bucket Dog:

We call him Bucket Dog because carrying around empty plastic buckets seems to be his favorite thing to do (after whining and howling). Bucket Dog trots around the yard collecting his buckets, and then carries them to the top of the back stairs and sits with them for a while.

*sigh*

Then at random times of the day and night, a bucket falls down the stairs. THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA THUNKA! We can hear this very clearly, as we’ve discovered that our house has the measliest insulation known to mankind. (Don’t even get me started on all the neighbor kids we can hear crashing into our garage door on their wheeled devices. THUD rattlerattlerattle . . . THUD rattlerattlerattle.)

I feel bad for Bucket Dog. If I were him I’d be bored to tears because he doesn’t seem to have anything else to do besides carry around buckets all day (and whine and howl). Does he have issues? Does he need a doggie shrink? Do his owners need to pay attention to him? Does he need a chew toy? I don’t know because I’ve never had a dog. But on rereading this post, I think I should start working on a children’s book. Coming soon to a bookstore near you: Sounds of the Neighborhood.

Calming Down. Maybe.

2011-10-10T18:59:00.000-06:00

Growing up, when I would go with my mother to the grocery store or drug store, I always enjoyed getting my blood pressure taken in those automatic machines. As I got into my angelic teenage years, I would first take my blood pressure the normal way. Then I took it a second time, this time constantly pumping my fist open and closed, making the numbers that popped up on the readout dangerously high. Instead of clearing the readout, I gleefully left the numbers for the next person to wonder if they were going to come across someone passed out on the floor nearby.

Ironically, I have developed a type of self-diagnosed white-coat syndrome since then. As soon as I sit down on the crinkly white paper in a doctor’s office, my blood pressure starts going up, even if I know there’s nothing seriously wrong with me. When the nurse says, “Let’s take your blood pressure now,” my heart starts beating faster because I’m nervous the result will be high, which makes me more nervous, and then I start breathing deeply to calm down, which then makes me even more nervous because I know I’m trying to calm down. (Are we clear on this?) Then the nurse says something like, “Wow, that’s high,” or, “Wow. Are you nervous?” Inevitably, the comment always starts with “Wow.”

Now let’s throw a first pregnancy into the mix. I’d like to bet that the nurses at my doctor’s office have never seen such high blood-pressure numbers. At Baby’s recent gender-identification appointment, I was running late and freaking out about it. Once I got into the exam room I felt fine, but I could feel my heart pounding a mile a minute. I had hoped that Husband’s presence at this appointment would make me feel calmer, but when the nurse spoke those dreaded BP numbers, Husband said, “Wow.” (Thanks, dear.) The nurse had me lie down (fine) and said she would take my blood pressure again later (not fine).

I know that stress isn’t good for a developing baby, let alone his high-strung mother. Pair that with being pregnant during college football season, and this child has no hope of normal circulation. His first little blood-pressure test will certainly result in a resounding, “Wow!”

I Object

2011-09-29T18:30:00.001-06:00

Whoever says that pregnancy is a glorious time of life needs to have her head examined. This little dude better appreciate what I'm going through for him.

Edible Adventures

2011-09-18T19:53:00.000-06:00

Before I met Husband, I was not an adventurous eater. My family can attest to the fact that when I was growing up, my standard dinner when we went out to eat was either a plain hot dog and a chocolate shake, or French toast and a chocolate shake. (And if my breakfast food came smeared with strawberries, it had to go back.) It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I stopped asking for the cheese to be left off my refried beans at Mexican restaurants.

And then I met Husband. And in our year of dating, I ate foods from cultures I never expected to experience. Chinese (because I don’t classify Panda Express as Chinese), Thai, Argentine, Indian, Vietnamese. Each time I was hesitant, but he never led me astray. (Okay, well, maybe with the pho, when I feared that little creatures might be floating around in the broth.)

One of our favorite Thai dishes has turned out to be Massaman Curry, and Husband decided he wanted try his hand at making it for dinner tonight. Yesterday, while I was out window shopping at an all-American craft boutique, Husband was wandering around an Asian market trying to figure out what everything was. (A tall, fair, white guy among a bunch of women from Southeast Asia in sari-like dress is something I would have liked to see.) He came back with a bagful of items I had never heard of, let alone ever expected to eat. He worked off of a few online recipes. This alone amazes me. I’m the kind of person who has to follow every recipe step and measurement precisely. Husband just throws things together with a “pinch of this, dash of that” daring, and is always successful. Tonight he put together a meal that filled our house with the spicy scents of anise, cinnamon, and cardamom, the comforting fragrance of coconut milk, and the nutty aroma of jasmine rice. And then it filled my stomach with a plateful of deliciousness.

There are still some foods I won’t eat. Bugs, for instance. Anything with tentacles. But I’m proud of how far I’ve come from those days of hot dogs and French toast. We’ll see what the future holds for more edible adventures.

Frosting!

2011-09-17T18:10:00.000-06:00

I'm so excited. Thrilled to pieces. If I were wearing socks they'd be going up and down. Yesterday I acquired this:

It comes with frosting cartridges, tips, a color blender, and other fun stuff. And I'm even more thrilled because I snagged it for $5 instead of the original $30. I've been thinking about what I can make for its inaugural use, but I haven't decided yet. (Whatever I do, I hope I can draw a better "M" than the one featured on the box.) I'll keep you updated. (Because you're just dying to know, right? Uh... right?)

(This is not an endorsement of this product. I haven't even used the thing yet. It could turn out to be a worthless mess and a half.)

September Saturday

2011-09-11T18:12:00.002-06:00

With summer starting to come to a close, Husband has been determined to get in at least one more smoked meat. Having already enjoyed pork and ribs, what's next? Why, brisket, of course! So for a Saturday of family and football, Husband got up at 3 a.m. to get the meat going. (And I thought I was dedicated when it came to food.)

Sometime after 3 a.m. when I was actually awake:

Now, I've never been a big fan of brisket, so I admit that I wasn't thrilled to death about this.

But then it got sliced up,

[chop chop chop]

And loaded into a pan,

[plop]

And then I tasted it. And behold, it was good.

I don't know what's next, but if this was the last for the season, thank you for joining us on our Journey through Carnivore Land.

For a treat I originally planned to make basic cupcakes and frost them with a red "U" for my team, but my lazy self and I thought that was too much work. So I decided to make cupcakes with filling and a ganache frosting. Because that's so much easier. Not.

These Ding-Dong-like bundles of joy come from Our Best Bites. The next time I make them (because I definitely will), I will probably top them with a standard buttercream frosting because I thought the ganache was just too much, even for me. But that didn't stop me from eating an undisclosed number of them. (One for me, one for the baby. One for me...)

Before:

During:

After:

Sorry, that last one was just to make you jealous.

On a completely random and unrelated note, Zucchini Monster is very much alive and well.

Song for Being Pregnant

2011-09-06T17:53:00.000-06:00

(Sung with breathy gusto to “Every Breath You Take.” Sing it out loud. It's more fun.)

Every breath I take, every move I make,
Every leaf I rake, every step I take, I need to pee.
Every single hour, I don’t have the power.
Every game I play, every way I sway, I need to pee.

Oh, can’t you see, I need to pee!
How my bladder aches, with every step I take!

Every move I make, every sneeze I take,
At sleep or wake, at calm or quake, I need to pee.

Every day I walk so carefully.
This little babe is just one big bully.
It has such fun jumping up and down all day.
It likes to clog, but I prefer ballet.
I keep crying, “Baby, baby, please!”

Oh, can’t you see, I need to pee!
How my bladder aches, with every step I take!

Every move I make, every sneeze I take,
At sleep or wake, at calm or quake, I need to pee.

Every breath I take, every move I make,
Every leaf I rake, every step I take,
I need to pee.
Every breath I take, every move I make,
Every leaf I rake, every step I take,
I need to pee.
(Repeat until next potty break.)

An Announcement (in a roundabout way)

2011-08-23T17:09:00.000-06:00

You know you’ve seen them: mommy blogs on which women post weekly (if not daily) pictures of themselves and their burgeoning baby bellies. You feel obligated to leave comments such as, “Aw, look at you!” or “u r so cute! lol!” or “Cutest baby bump ever!” When all you really want to say is, “Yikes! Put that thing away before someone gets hurt!” But you don’t do that because you want to have friends. (Um, to those among my readers who have posted such pictures… I wuv you!)

Well, today I pledge that I will NEVER post such frightening pictures in the coming months. I might say things like, “I feel like a cow,” or “I shut my eyes when I got weighed at the doctor’s,” or “Husband is making beeping sounds at me. Those ones that go on when trucks go into reverse.” But pictures you shall not see. The only thing you’ll see is that slightly creepy baby growth ticker over there on the right side of my blog.

And if you ever see a picture on here that consists of my lower abdominal edifice taking up 99% of the frame, then you have my permission to laugh me to scorn and go running away from my blog because you lost your trust in me. And I’ll go running (or waddling quickly) after you because you are one of my four cherished readers.

And so, dear readers, I hope you’ll stick with me through these next six months. It will be nice to know you’re there when I start hearing those beeping noises.

Sunday dinner (and good cheese)

2011-08-21T19:45:00.000-06:00

Today I decided to make a meal that didn't consist of opening a box and using some sort of unidentifiable orange powder. So I tried a new recipe. Behold, Pepperoni Pizza Casserole:

Isn't it cute? We thought it was pretty tasty, so it's going in our recipe binder (recipe below). It was accompanied by freshly picked zucchini, courtesy of Zucchini Monster. No recipe, but all you do is slice it up, cook it in olive oil until golden brown, add salt and pepper, and sprinkle grated Parmigiano-Reggiano over the top. Our cheese came from a local Italian deli, and it's the kind of cheese you seriously want to lick off the counter as it falls in little tendrils when you grate it. Cheese that's so good, as I was Google-ing how to spell it, I discovered that it has its own website: www.parmigianoreggiano.com. Can your cheese do that?

A Sunday dinner labor of love:

And speaking of labor, congratulations to Husband's sister, who gave birth last week to the sweetest little gal to ever grace the NICU. Sending prayers of health and strength your way, little one!

Pepperoni Pizza Casserole

(From Taste of Home Magazine)

NOTE: This is for two batches.

1 pkg. (16 oz) egg noodles
2 lbs. ground beef
1/3 cup chopped onion
1 jar (26 oz) meatless spaghetti sauce
1 can (10 oz) diced tomatoes and green chilies
1 can (8 oz) mushroom stems and pieces, drained (which I did not use because mushrooms are yucky)
2 cups (8 oz) shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
2 cups (8 oz) shredded cheddar cheese
1 cup (4 oz) shredded Parmesan cheese
3 oz. sliced pepperoni

1. Cook noodles according to package directions; drain.
2. Meanwhile, in a large skillet, cook ground beef and chopped onion over medium heat until meat is no longer pink; drain. Stir in the spaghetti sauce and tomatoes. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes. Stir in noodles.
3. Transfer to two greased 13x9 baking dishes. Sprinkle each with mushrooms (yuck), cheeses, and pepperoni.
4. Bake, uncovered, at 350 for 30-35 minutes or until heated through and cheeses have melted. Let stand for 5 minutes before serving.

2011-08-18T20:36:00.000-06:00

This is what happens at the store when moms discover something their kid put in the cart without their knowledge. "Forget the Oreos. We're getting string cheese!"

2011-08-06T12:39:00.001-06:00

We have a pet. Its name is Zucchini Monster. It has been known to appear on Sesame Street, teach about healthy eating, and then eat the children.

This fall, if you get doorbell-ditched and find a bag of zucchini sitting on your porch, it wasn't me.

Lightning Strikes Slowly

2011-08-02T17:37:00.002-06:00

I have a confession: I have not seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2. [gasp/choke/faint] I know there are plenty of people out there whose lives are planned around movie release dates. But Husband and I just haven’t had the time to park our rear ends in theater seats for 2-plus hours. It’s been kind of a crazy month. (Hence not blogging for two weeks.) It’s not like I don’t want to see it. I do. I’m just not in a huge hurry. I’m not exactly waiting on pins and needles to find out what happens. Years ago, when someone found out my brother hadn’t seen Titanic yet, she said she wouldn’t tell him the ending because she didn’t want to ruin it for him. He responded, “Does the boat not sink?” So unless the screenwriters decided to kill Harry permanently or have Ron hook back up with Lavender, I don’t anticipate too many surprises.

But what I’m getting around to is that to prepare for seeing HP7.2, and to remind ourselves what the heck is going on, Husband and I recently watched HP7.1. I remembered there was a lot of moping around in a forest, but I didn’t remember exactly how much doesn’t happen in this film. At the end of an almost two-and-a-half-hour movie, I thought, “They found one horcrux and destroyed it. That’s it? They could have done that in half an hour, and I would’ve at least had some time to bake cookies or think about exercising.”

HP7.1 is a lengthy bit of nothing, made exclusively to ~~make money~~ set up 7.2. I’m not saying that’s bad. I’m just saying with the way the screenwriters cut out portions of the books willy-nilly, they could have squished book 7 into one film and saved me some time. It would have been a really long film, you say? That didn’t seem to bother people going to see the Lord of the Rings movies. Now those were some serious bum-numbers.

I’m really not trying to bash dear Harry & Co. I enjoy the books and the movies, apparently with the exception of 7.1. I’ve heard that 7.2 is action-packed from start to finish. After I see it, I hope I can swear on the Sword of Gryffindor that’s true.

Carnivores Anonymous, Part II

2011-07-16T22:12:00.000-06:00

This week: ribs.

Today while Husband and I cleaned the house in anticipation of guests arriving this week (hi, guys!), two racks of ribs slowly cooked outside. Now, don't think this is going to be a weekly thing. It's not, and our budget definitely knows it won't be. But Husband is enjoying his new hobby. He recently got a doctorate degree. I think by the end of the summer he'll need another one to hang on the wall: a PhD in barbecue.

And we're back

2011-07-09T21:25:00.002-06:00

I told you this took a long time. When did we start this thing? Last week? Well, this is what the final product looked like:

Contrary to popular belief, we did not smoke a large rodent. That is a pork shoulder. That charred lump of goodness gave us pulled pork for the next three months:

Pulled pork sandwich + watermelon + homemade coleslaw + kettle chips =

YUM.

Mmm, Meat

2011-07-09T13:56:00.000-06:00

As a graduation present, Husband bought himself a smoker. As in, the kind that smokes meat. Not a for-sale person who stands around the house asking for an ashtray. Today was the smoker’s first outing outdoors. It’s been sitting in our family room for a few weeks and it looks like a Droid. Seriously. R2-D2 is sitting in our house. Whenever I walk in at night and see it standing there in the dark room, I expect to hear welcoming beeps and whistles, accompanied by a wobbly little happy dance. Don’t believe me? Here it is in the dark:

See? Meet R2-MT2 (R2-Meat2).

I don’t know anything about smoking meat. Apparently it takes a long time and you have to sit around for days, making sure the temperature of the fire stays steady by adding briquettes, wood, lighter fluid, junk mail, banned books, and the neighbor’s dead tree branches that are encroaching on your property. Well, maybe that’s not entirely accurate, but it goes something like that.

Mmm, meat. Look away, vegetarians. Just look away.

Check back tonight for the final outcome.

Stuff

2011-07-08T21:13:00.000-06:00

I think it's interesting, while waiting in the supermarket checkout line, to look at the random items that people leave scattered among the candy bars and lip balm. What prompts people to take the items all the way to the front, only to abandon them at the last moment? Here are some items I've seen on recent Wal-Mart outings. And what the non-buyers must have thought.

Plastic water gun: "No, you will not torture your sister with this."

Picture-hanging wire: "I never liked Aunt Hazel's velvet painting anyway."

Ping-pong balls: "Oh yeah. We don't have a table."

Underwear: "I'll just turn mine inside out."

Kid's shirt: "Honey, this one's not ours. It's the neighbor kid."

Oreos: [crickets chirping] You got me. I can't think of why someone would leave behind Oreos.

You're going to notice these things now, aren't you?

2011-07-03T17:25:00.000-06:00

Husband and I went to see some fireworks on Friday. I forgot my camera, so I was stuck with the not-so-hot camera on my phone. It was quite an experiment using it to shoot fireworks. The picture wouldn't take until three seconds after I pushed the button, so I ended up with a lot of empty images. But I got a few somewhat abstract pics. So, happy abstract 4th, everyone!

Achoo!

2011-06-26T15:35:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I bought a box of Kleenex. It was a normal box of tissue, except for the bright pink spot on top that advertised something I'd never heard of before: a sneeze shield.

When I got home I inspected the first tissue. I even pulled the two layers apart, searching for . . . I don't know what. Mesh lining? A face mask? An explanation in French? (Because, obviously, half the people who buy Kleenex are French.) Ultimately, I didn't find anything about the tissue that made it different. But I wondered, isn't that basically what a tissue is---a sneeze shield? (Yes, I need more to wonder about, if that's what you're thinking.) Though the sneeze-shield aspect fails on an advertising level, I do like the groovy '70s Arabian-style germs poofing out from the pink mother germ. That's my take, anyway.

Pick and Choose

2011-06-25T18:28:00.000-06:00

Even after one harvest of basil has left the plants, well . . . dead, it's nice to see that some things choose to survive in our household.

Attempts

2011-06-13T17:51:00.001-06:00

Recently I was introduced to the cooking website "Our Best Bites." Suddenly, I found myself drooling more than usual. Yesterday I made two of the recipes from the site: Tortellini Spinach Bake in Creamy Lemon Sauce and Coconut Banana Bread with Lime Glaze. (Apparently I was in the mood for long-winded recipes.)

The bread: easy. The pasta: not so easy. (Keep in mind that "not so easy" for me means I am required to do something more than open a box of Kraft mac and cheese.) But both items came out quite yummy, and I was especially pleased that they looked like the pictures with the recipes. (That never happens to me. Seriously. Never.)

The pasta:

(even my hen cutting board wanted to know what was going on up there)

The bread:

Unfortunately, I had already eaten a second slice before Husband calculated the calorie count. We're not going to talk about that.

Yum.

June . . . finally!

2011-06-04T20:56:00.000-06:00

Today was sprinkler-testing day. That means I traipse around our yard through sprinkler mist on a lovely sunny morning. That also means that our plants get delightful little water droplets on them.

Hello, June!

The Beginning

2011-06-02T17:53:00.001-06:00

In an attempt to clean her house, my mother keeps giving me my old school papers to clutter up my house. Since I’m not one for sentiment (or clutter), I look through the papers and then throw them out. Multiple honor roll certificates (thank you, thank you) . . . trash. A 7th-grade report on aluminum (yawn) . . . trash. A list of junior-high ex-friends I don’t speak to anymore (don’t you friend me, girl) . . . trash.

This one I kept:

I don’t know when I did this little editing assignment. I can’t date it by the penmanship because, well, that’s pretty much what my handwriting still looks like. Sometimes worse. But likely this was one of my very first editing projects. Who knew I’d be an editor when I grew up? I certainly didn’t when I put my red pen to that carbon-copied paper.

I’m proud I knew the correct use of trivial. I’m even prouder that I knew the last line was a quote. Nerds rule.

Pitiful

2011-05-28T20:06:00.001-06:00

Meet the neighbor's dog. This old guy puts up with a lot. When he's not sleeping on the back deck, he's getting poked, pulled, pushed, pinched, and shrieked at by the family's young children. Sometimes I want to invite him to our side of the fence for some calmer relaxation. When it started to rain this evening, I heard some canine whimpers nearby. A little while later I looked out the window and saw this:

Isn't this just the most pitiful thing ever? Unless this guy adores the rain (and it doesn't really look like he does), he deserves some serious pampering.

How much?

2011-05-18T08:58:00.001-06:00

It seems that at Deseret Industries, if something isn't nailed down, someone might grab it. I should have wandered into the bathroom to see if the toilet paper was labeled "Not for Sale."

The Next Step

2011-05-07T17:23:00.003-06:00

Searching

2011-05-07T17:19:00.002-06:00

At Husband's graduation, this little girl was searching in the program for each name called. [Insert deep thought about children, education, and following dreams.]

Growth

2011-04-27T21:11:00.001-06:00

A few weeks ago, Husband and I set up a window box.

It's first occupants were a couple of basil plants and some rosemary. The basil for fabulous pesto and the rosemary for . . . well, whatever people use rosemary for. We haven't decided yet. But it looks pretty in the meantime. The herbs were getting along just fine, and growing healthily.

And then a new neighbor moved in.

The chives added somewhat of an unbalanced flair to the windowsill. Heck, it can't even keep itself within the confines of a photo.

I don't think the rosemary is very happy about its new sill buddy. I caught it having a private discussion with the basil. It went something like this:

Rosemary: "Hey, basil. Can you scoot over? Crazy Ned is tickling me again."

Basil: "Ha ha ha! I'm going to be pesto!"

I think I heard a harrumphing from the middle of the box.

Saving Money?

2011-04-18T18:23:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, with some helpful tips from my sister-in-law, I became a couponer. In my defense, I am not, nor will I ever be, an "extreme couponer." In fact, I think those people who appear on TLC's Extreme Couponing are one step away from being evaluated for mental problems on the network's sister show, Hoarding: Buried Alive. (I've kind of been on a rant about TLC lately, haven't I?)

Anyway, my foray into couponing has had somewhat mixed results. I'm not sure how I like shelling out more money than usual for products I don't need right now but are a "great deal." And on my way home from work I certainly don't like finding store shelves empty because they were wiped out at 9 a.m. by women toting five pounds of coupons. But I'm slowly improving. My most successful coupon deal to date was last week at Target, where I purchased these full-size body washes for four cents each.

I was giddy! I felt like I was walking on air as I pranced down the aisle, possessively clutching the bottles to my chest to keep them safe from extremers.

And then I saw this:

I stopped dead in the aisle. I possibly might have been drooling. I was in love. And just like that, there went all that money I saved on the body washes. (Okay, and a little bit more.) I'm probably giving couponers a bad name, but oh, well. Don't you just love couponing?

2011-04-17T14:54:00.004-06:00

It's my birthday! Yippee!

I spent some quality time this weekend watching this:

It was Husband's first time seeing it. "Do-Re-Mi" almost did him in. But he was a trooper. He also made me this chocolate-chip cookie dough cheesecake.

Mmm, fantastic. Need I say more?

The Awesome Things to See at Wal-Mart

2011-04-16T15:48:00.006-06:00

Why yes, I'll be happy to give that hot dog a good home!

Saturday

2011-04-02T15:54:00.003-06:00

This morning my little street was abuzz with rather frantic activity. Taking advantage of the warm weather before the next spring [winter] storm hit this afternoon, everyone was out making all kinds of racket: mowing, sawing, thatching, aerating, and declaring how beautiful the day was. I was determined to get our flowerbeds cleaned out before the rains came and the temperature dropped for another week. Luckily I was able to finish because I got a head start yesterday evening. Now, with thunder rumbling and rain pelting the windows, I’m extra thrilled that I can look out to a clean, tidy yard as I wrap in blankets and grumble about the cold. I have to look through all my photos of flowers and remind myself that it won’t be long until I see their real-life counterparts.

In the meantime, regardless of what the weather is like where you are, Happy Spring!

I know it’s spring when…

2011-03-30T21:19:00.001-06:00

a load of laundry includes T-shirts and sweaters.
I wear sandals one day and boots the next.
green shoots grow in the sun while snow languishes in the shadowy corners of the yard.
I glare at weeds through the rain-spotted window.
Husband uses a sheet while I use a down comforter.
birds start tweeting at 5 in the morning. (shut up already!)
it’s light but freezing at 7:30 p.m.
coupons appear for amusement park season passes.
kids’ voices fill the air later into the evening.

Your turn. When do you know it’s spring?

2011-03-25T15:31:00.006-06:00

The view from my office at 10:30 a.m.

The view from my office at 4:00 p.m.

The quintessential March Madness.

Spring in a Few Words

2011-03-24T17:15:00.000-06:00

warm
cold
brown
sunny
wet
clean (adjective)
buds
gusty
snow
worms
birthday
hopeful
green
new
clean (verb)
light
mud
fresh
bikes
unsure
melt
tweet
finally

Because

2011-03-19T08:45:00.003-06:00

Because I'm in a good mood this morning (I had my second photo featured on the Mortal Muses photo blog), because I used up all my words in my previous post, and because I had flowers in my house the other day, here are some spring flowers to brighten the day.

And for those of your who are Cake Wreck readers, all I can think of when I see this photo is, "Under Neat that."

In Praise of Man

2011-03-16T17:47:00.001-06:00

My husband can tie his own shoelaces. He can also cook, go grocery shopping, and take out the garbage. And he doesn’t need me to hold his hand to do them.
According to magazines such as Newsweek and Time, we have stumbled into the age of the “man child.” It seems that my generation and the next ones are full of lazy, stupid, incompetent, noncommittal men, who are only interested in beer, video games, and sex. Surely Adam Sandler movies prove this.

I recall a commercial for high-tech phones that could take pictures. (Yes, it was back in the day.) The commercial showed a man wandering around a grocery store looking lost and confused. His brilliant wife took pictures of grocery items in her kitchen, and then sent the photos to her husband’s phone. Upon seeing the photos, the husband was joyously relieved and able to buy the correct groceries. Wow. How could that woman put up with such a dunce? (But then, why was she having him shop for things she already had?)

Today’s media inundate us with similar messages. Men are so stupid they can’t buy food, figure out how an automatic room freshener works, or realize their wife is talking about yogurt when she says she’s eating key lime pie and apple turnovers (even though the fridge he is frantically searching is full of yogurt). Men burn simple meals, overflow the washing machine, and leave the house disgustingly dirty. The alpha woman on TV sighs, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes at her simpleminded husband. Then she grabs a latte with her friends and they have a good laugh about the idiot she married.

Because of the instant nature of the digital age, it seems like this man-child phenomenon is widespread, that every man I pass on the street is contemplating how to break up with his clingy girlfriend and wondering how much he can drink at his next kegger. Though I don’t doubt some men are like this, I believe that many more men are trying their darndest to support their family as well as they can. They are smart, considerate, and helpful. They do yard work and put up Christmas lights. They feed, clothe, and bathe their kids. They help their wife, even when she orders him around like he’s an extra child in the house. I see it in my friends, in my neighborhood, and in my church.

I know that in the “dark ages” women were coddled, condescended to, and treated as unequal human beings, and that it has been only recently in history that our society has realized that women are capable of more than answering phones and ordering flowers for the boss’s wife. Physics dictates that the pendulum will swing the other way eventually. I think it has swung too far. But many women will continue kicking that pendulum away from them until it breaks, screaming their exes’ names with each stilettoed kick.

A few days ago I watched a video clip from a national morning news show. An author of this subject talked about how today’s woman wants a man who is “manly” and who will take care of her, but she also want a man who treats her as an equal and independent entity, whom she can kick to the curb without complaint whenever she wants. Basically, women are sending mixed messages. Heck, I’d throw in the towel too if I didn’t know if the woman I opened the door for was going to thank me or bite my head off. It’s a lose-lose situation. Men just can’t win anymore.

Each sex has its strengths and weaknesses. We think differently. It’s how we’re made. There is no “better” or “superior” gender, as much as some women would like to believe it. We’ve all heard the cliché, “Behind every successful man is a good woman,” and no doubt in retaliation many women have changed it to, “In front of every successful man is a more successful woman.” I ask, why does someone have to be in front?

At a wedding I overheard a smirking young married woman tell the groom, “Do exactly what she tells you to do.” I bristled. I wanted to ask her if that was the secret to her marriage. Sadly, I didn’t have to. A few months later she was divorced.

2011-03-12T18:59:00.005-07:00

This is the aftermath of a frenzied attack on a slice of the Great Wall of Chocolate at P.F. Chang's. The only thing uneaten was the sprig of mint.

Morning Commute

2011-03-09T17:03:00.001-07:00

Wendover Haiku

2011-03-05T19:38:00.001-07:00

ringing in the ears
flashing stars of slot machines
my clothes stink to smoke

orange-red against ice
crab legs dangle off white plates
de-limbed ocean bugs

chocolate mousse pie, please
and an éclair on the side
plates pile like snowdrifts

Dude!

2011-02-23T17:21:00.004-07:00

I read that lounge suits are appropriate attire for William and Kate’s wedding. I would love to arrive in a matching velour set with “JUICY” plastered across the behind. Royal weddings are getting so cool and casual these da--

Oh wait, hang on.

[click, click, clickety]

Um, never mind. Apparently, these are lounge suits.

In the middle there is a morning coat.

Dang. There goes my bathrobe plan.

Discovery

2011-02-21T17:29:00.001-07:00

I’ve recently discovered something that I’ve probably known subconsciously for some time. Which is that my past self is smarter than my present self. At work I leave notes for myself regarding things I need to do at a future time. Generally when that time arrives, I see the note and think, “Now why do I need to do that?” Then I spend 10 minutes retracing my steps until finally coming to the conclusion, “Oh, yeah. That’s why.” And then I apologize to my past self for doubting her and wasting those 10 minutes when I could have been accomplishing said task or, more likely, doing a crossword puzzle or gazing out the window. I suppose I could look on the bright side and see my present self being my past self for my future self as I leave to-do notes floating around. I can see my next note now: “Go lie down. Your head hurts.”

V Day

2011-02-14T12:48:00.005-07:00

The other day I downloaded some cute valentines from MCP Actions.

I guess the idea is to insert your own photos of your stunningly beautiful {cough-Photoshopped-cough} children.

But you know me. I hope you enjoy my own take.

Happy V Day, my sweeties!

Unexplained Phenomenon

2011-02-13T09:26:00.002-07:00

I'm not a huge fan of Hallmark Makes Men Feel Guilty Day. Uh, I mean, Valentine's Day. But a few weeks ago I had an unexplainable urge to cut out paper hearts.

I'm in a club!

2011-02-11T19:55:00.005-07:00

Last night I hosted book club. It’s a new group in my neighborhood, and this was our first official meeting after our planning meeting. I’ve never been in a book club, so I really had no idea what to do. So I went all out. I really enjoy hosting, and I don’t get to do it very often. (I mean hosting as in having people over to my house. Not hosting, say, an alien life form.)

First, I start with the book:

(Warning: Stay away from the movie. I said, stay away from the movie.)

Remember the flowers I talked about a few posts ago? Here’s my version:

(I’ll take a $5 bouquet of wildflowers over cliché $80 roses any day. Husband is probably very happy about that.)

Then the food. My favorite part. I made strawberry sorbetto and pizza with mozzarella and Roma tomatoes.

If I weren’t so humble I’d say they were delicious.

I made sure everyone knew what they were eating.

After all the planning and cooking and beautifying, I remembered the day before that I had to lead a discussion. Searching the web for “Under the Tuscan Sun book club questions” turned up a plethora of questions apparently written by uppity AP English teachers. I rolled my eyes at most of them and wondered how many 12th graders were going to read this book as opposed to, say, a bunch of book club women. Regardless, we had a good discussion and a nice evening of socializing.

And sorbetto di fragola before and after.

Who's Kari?

2011-02-09T19:06:00.000-07:00

My Beef with TLC

2011-02-05T14:14:00.003-07:00

I used to like TLC. (I don’t mean Tender Loving Care; I still like that.) I’m referring to the TV channel. Though it houses my favorite show, What Not to Wear, these days the channel seems to be focusing its spotlight on, well, “weirdos.” I don’t call the show subjects that, but I bet the term comes up in TLC staff meetings. As I look at the usual lineup of shows, we have hoarders, people with bizarre addictions, couples with overly fertile reproductive systems, and, conversely, women who didn’t know they were pregnant. Continuing on down the line are little people, men with multiple wives, brides who scream obscenities at their wedding planners, and creepy toddler beauty queens and their equally creepy mothers. Then there are the occasional specials about mermaid people and people with strange illnesses. The current casting needs are for people with extreme couponing habits, people with freaky eating habits, and people with strange sexual conditions or dysfunctions. Where is this channel headed?

The network probably has a generic press release that talks about how, by featuring these people, they are showing how they are “just like everyone else.”™ But I think by showcasing people who are “different,” the network is saying, “Hey, get a load of these guys! Aren’t they weird?? Tune in at 9 for even stranger stuff!” It gives the cruel public the chance to point and stare from the comfort of their own homes. Maybe some viewers find these shows sympathetic. Personally, I’m uncomfortable watching a father scream at his quintuplets, or a woman lick Comet off her hand because she’s addicted to it.

Hurrying Slowly

2011-02-03T20:50:00.002-07:00

I have determined—based on extensive personal research—that the “Close” button in elevators doesn’t do a darn thing. I believe it is merely a placebo button to placate impatient riders such as myself. When I’m in a hurry, or when I don’t want to wait for the person half a mile away who expects me to hold the elevator for them (My elevator mantra: “Another one will always come.”), I lean on the “Close” button. The elevator then sits there for a little while, then lazily closes its doors while I’m prodding the button like mad. By that time the half-miler has almost arrived, glaring at me through the closing doors whilst I make a grand attempt to find something in my purse and look distracted and/or concerned.

Maybe the elevator is trying to tell me to slow down…take it easy... chill, as its doors lumber closed. Which makes me want to hurry all the more, and wish I had taken the stairs.

Refreshed

2011-01-30T13:59:00.003-07:00

Currently I’m reading Under the Tuscan Sun by Frances Mayes. It’s for book club, but I had planned on reading it soon because it’s just what I need in the middle of a dreary gray winter. In describing flowers left on her newly acquired Italian property, Mayes says, “A sprig of oleander, a handful of Queen Anne’s and fennel bound with a stem, a full bouquet of dog roses, dandelion puffs, buttercups, and lavender bells—every day I look to see what he has propped up in the shrine at the bottom of my driveway.”

Reading that made me feel all warm and cozy and sunny and refreshed, and if I were the impulsive type I’d be trotting down the street toward the airport dragging a suitcase, my passport, and the book with my finger still stuck in page 39. All I know is that if I woke up one morning and found all those flowers in a shrine at the bottom of my driveway, I’d think I just woke up in heaven.

And after thinking all that, I knew I wanted to post this picture I took a couple of years ago. It’s happy and sunny and cheery and refreshing, and just the thing I need after looking out the window into another winter day.

2011-01-24T18:00:00.002-07:00

Okay, after all that blahbiddy blah blah yesterday about color and beauty and being amazed, I am never making that recipe again. The end.

2011-01-23T15:01:00.003-07:00

Sometimes I'm amazed at how throwing together a few simple ingredients can create a colorful new beauty.

A Fear

2011-01-22T11:23:00.001-07:00

I have this fear that when I put a new roll of toilet paper on the holder I’m going to fumble the roll and it’s going to fall into the toilet with a splash. Then the paper will swiftly absorb water and leisurely sink, and I will shriek and stare aghast into the bowl and not know what to do.

Of course, if the lid is down—where it usually is—this won’t happen.

But still I worry.

Wow! I'm 6!

2011-01-14T17:17:00.005-07:00

A few days ago, my mother hand delivered this:

My intellectual curiosity was piqued as I eloquently uttered, "Huh?"

I found this on the inside:

My initial reaction was one of horror. Have my grandparents---for the past 20 something years---been thinking they have an ungrateful granddaughter who can't make the effort to write a thank-you note?

My second reaction was, Sweet! I've got six bucks!

Apparently, when my parents' garage flooded recently, they had to go through a lot of things and decide what to throw out. This was among the wreckage. We're guessing that my grandparents handed my mother the card and asked her to give it to their delightful [beautiful, witty, smart] and much-loved six-year-old granddaughter upon the celebration of her birthday. Somehow, my financially sound birthday wishes ended up in a pile o' stuff.

So, even though it's not my birthday, happy birthday to me! Wendy's value menu, here I come.

I bet my dear grandpa is having a heavenly chuckle over this one.

Gratis

2011-01-08T21:33:00.002-07:00

Free movie and popcorn at the planetarium. (Thanks, membership!)

Free dinner at Texas Roadhouse. (Thanks, gift card!)

I love free days.

First Week

2011-01-05T17:13:00.000-07:00

What is this concept of buying a calendar before the new year? Some people don’t pay full price for furniture; others for major appliances. I don’t pay full price for calendars. This means, however, that when I go into a Barnes & Noble the first week in January I am presented with a depressing display of leftovers: puppies, kittens, the Jonas brothers, and, startlingly, a nudie calendar with 3-D glasses. (If those last two had been one and the same, I would have gone screaming from the store.)

So begins my annual practice of rifling through the piles until I find the one nice-looking travel calendar in the bunch. Often, as it so happened yesterday, it’s one of those “365 days in . . . ,” which aren’t so much calendars as they are encyclopedia entries. Each month you are gypped out of a full-sized picture and instead get a gaudy explanation of a smaller picture, and then a bunch of little pictures that you can’t really see unless you walk over to the calendar on the wall and squint. Fortunately, since my “365 days in Ireland” will be hanging in my office, I won’t have to walk far. I will still have to squint, however, at the tiny photo captions that accompany the little pictures: “Irish cattle.” “Pub in Galway.” “Field.” For such an oversized calendar, you’d think there wouldn’t be so much squinting involved. Maybe I need some 3-D glasses to make those fields really pop.

Comings and Goings (but mostly goings)

2010-12-29T17:40:00.004-07:00

Right before Christmas, Husband and I took a quick jaunt to Las Vegas.

We journeyed across the Arctic Tundra.

We met Lady Liberty,

And her lesser-known sister, Lady Jelly Beans.

(She doesn't get out much. Warm weather makes her uncomfortably sticky.)

Mmm, breakfast.

It rained, but we survived.

And we figured out the riddle of the sphinx. It was to have a merry Christmas.

2010-12-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

2010-12-24T09:56:00.003-07:00

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Love,
Me, my two reflections, and Mickey

2010-12-18T13:41:00.006-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a little wooden puppet named Pinocchio.

Now, Pinocchio has a familiar story. In some versions he even has the show-stopping musical number, "I've Got No Strings."

However, some translators take some liberties with Pinocchio's tale. For instance, this version translated from Italian:

(Click on photo for larger version)

It's highly entertaining. In fact, it is so enjoyable that I will never cut the tag off this little guy. Even though he's nice, he might get mad.

Listen Up!

2010-12-13T21:12:00.006-07:00

News Flash: I like Christmas music. And as I’ve been listening to some of my favorite tunes lately, I thought, Why not share them with my five readers? So here I give you my top five Christmas albums (one for each of you!) in no particular order. So put up your feet and grab a mug of instant hot chocolate with those hard little marshmallows that never quite melt.

Boney’s Funky Christmas, Boney James. Snake-charmer Kenny G.’s got nothing on this guy. This album is short and sweet. As in, sweeeet. This saxophonist never gets blatty or annoying (something that jazz sax often does for this listening ear). Enjoy the slow groove of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” or rock out on “This Christmas” with singer Dee Harvey (whoever that is).

Christmas Portrait, The Carpenters. The ultimate in holiday music. Karen Carpenter’s smooth alto fits in by the fire in a mountain cabin or at a posh cocktail party. The duo’s holiday cheer is tinged with a little sadness as I wonder what great music they would have made these past 30 years if Karen hadn’t suffered an early death. Standout heart-tugging song: “Merry Christmas, Darling.”

Sing We Christmas, Chanticleer. A necessary album if you need to pause and take a breath during the Christmas rush. This all-male a cappella ensemble blends effortlessly on modern chords or traditional tunes. I recommend all their Christmas albums, but this one edges out the rest for me. Listen carefully on “Noel Canon” to hear them whispering their notes for an echo-y effect. (Note: If it makes you uncomfortable to hear men singing higher than an operatic soprano, Chanticleer is not for you. Pick up A Robert Shaw Christmas for fantastic holiday choral tunes.)

A Christmas Album, James Taylor. Sweet Baby James at his holiday finest. I got this album when it was still a Hallmark-only release. (I believe most of the songs appear on the newer James Taylor at Christmas.) Groovin’ on “Jingle Bells” or sharing a drink with Natalie Cole on the wonderfully warm “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” there is not a miss on this album. James’s smiling voice strolls into your home and sings you a tune after dinner.

A Charlie Brown Christmas, Vince Guaraldi Trio. How could you not have this playing in the background sometime this holiday season? The familiar piano conjures up images of Charlie Brown and the gang ice-skating, eating snowflakes, having psychiatric issues, buying trees, and searching for the true meaning of Christmas. Carefree Snoopy dancing in your head is an added bonus.

Now you tell me... what are your favorite holiday albums?

I Heart Christmas

2010-12-11T14:51:00.002-07:00

Experiments with Light

2010-12-09T17:31:00.003-07:00

I went to Temple Square to take pictures of the Christmas lights at 7:30 in the morning. (No, I haven't had a personality transplant. I was on my way to work.) I have taken an overabundance of pictures of the lights at night. I wanted to see what I could get in the morning hours, when the nice people in charge of the big master lightswitch don't flip it off until the bulk of commuters has passed. Well, the cloud cover I was hoping for didn't cooperate, and my pictures didn't turn out all that great unless I Photoshop them to within an inch of their tiny emulsified lives. However, I did get this shot, which I have fallen hard for:

I guess sometimes the light you were hoping for comes in a way you didn't expect.

Climbing Light

2010-12-06T19:10:00.003-07:00

December 1st

2010-12-01T16:48:00.007-07:00

Many years ago, when I was younger and slightly more gangly than I am now, my family trekked westward across the dramatic (read, boring and ugly as all get out) Bonneville Salt Flats, across Interstate 80, and through such exotic places as Wendover, Winnemucca, and Reno to arrive at Grandma’s house in California for Thanksgiving. Along the way, we would stop in the small town of Lovelock to stretch our legs and remember how lucky we were to not live in Nevada.

For unknown reasons—especially considering our family was made up of four males and only two females—our designated stopping place was a small gift shop/boutique/craft store. Perhaps the men were promised a burger stop if Mom could do a little shopping first. But I wouldn’t know. I was the youngest, and therefore too busy plotting how to annoy my brothers and get them in trouble at the same time.

One year when I was about nine or ten, I found a gem in the shop. This Noah’s ark advent calendar:

I was charmed, even more so because it didn’t contain 24 pieces of gross, cheap chocolate. Every year since then, I’ve pulled out Noah,

uh, I mean, Santa, and his friendly animals.

The clean sea lions always held a special place in my heart because they’re the first to move in.

Followed throughout December a menagerie of moose,

pelicans,

and sleepy dogs.

I was thrilled when the elephants stepped into place because, one, they were the biggest, and two, they were last and that meant tomorrow was Christmas.

Today I pulled out the calendar and unceremoniously shoved aside Thanksgiving decorations. If that sea lion pair is already tidying up for Christmas, I better get going.

2010-11-29T21:38:00.004-07:00

As much as I dislike snow (dislike, meaning from November to May I think about palm trees and warm beaches at least 27 times a day), I do enjoy the beauty it brings to the drab end of fall. Snow seems to arrive just in time to hide the dirty brown of dead leaves.

Now is the time of year for snow shadows,

sparkling snow blobs,

and mysterious comings and goings.

2010-11-23T18:47:00.002-07:00

“Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

2010-11-23T10:28:00.002-07:00

Blankets
Hot chocolate
Socks
Fuzzy slippers
A warm and sturdy house

Just a few of the things I'm looking forward to when I get home in three hours, [hopefully] before the blizzard hits. (I'm not exaggerating. The storm has officially been rated a blizzard.) I'll take pictures if I am able to unearth myself from my Everest of blankets.

Cairn!

2010-11-22T18:59:00.004-07:00

Last month Husband and I took a quick trip to Arches National Park. I had never been before, and was quite excited. It really is an amazing place. Almost alien. It looks like a bunch of ancient Egyptian stone carvers went on their lunch break and never returned. (Maybe Moses had something to do with that.)

The landscape was stark.

Incredible.

Timeless.

Unbelievable.

And sometimes surprising.

In between interpretive dances,

I fell in love with rock cairns. Forget the whole life metaphor about having something to guide your path through life. They were just freakin’ awesome. I think I must have been a Zen garden caretaker in a previous life.

I also discovered that “cairn” is fun to say. Every time I saw one I’d shout out, “cairn!” and make sure I pronounced the diphthong thoroughly: “Look! A ca-ee-yern!” And then I’d skip on over, backpack bouncing on both shoulders, and take a picture. See?

Cairn.

Cairn.

I know you’re saying it now.

Food for Thought

2010-11-12T17:47:00.004-07:00

For the past six and a half years, I have passed by a certain object almost every weekday without noticing it. This week, I noticed. Behold, the office microwave:

I can only imagine the conversations that have happen around this strapping piece of technology.

Monday: Hey, Bobby. I’m going to work on that report right after I heat up my two four-ounce hamburgers here. Got any ketchup in your snack drawer?

Tuesday: Afternoon, Gladys. Have you thought about joining my book club? I was wondering as I was waiting for my pound of fish fillets to cook.

Wednesday: All hail, Sir Morgan! Would it please thee to englut of Cornish hen this noontime?

Wait… what? Cornish hen? When did Henry VIII get a say in what is listed on our microwave cheat sheets? I admit, I didn’t know what a Cornish hen was, so in my 30 seconds of extensive research I learned that a Cornish hen is “a young chicken sold whole,” developed in the mid-1950s. (So I was a little off on the Henry VIII thing, okay?) Still, why is it listed on a microwave? And why does it take only 6-8 minutes to cook a whole chicken, when it takes a whopping 5-6 to heat up a can of soup?

Sometimes the mysteries of life just befuddle me.

Failure

2010-11-08T20:39:00.003-07:00

Tonight I made cookies from a mix, something I usually don’t do. But the box had been in the pantry for a while, languishing in a back corner, left over from some gift basket I can’t recall. I didn’t want to look at it anymore. Plus, we have new neighbors. Bingo! (Now, for those of you who think I am a horrible person for unloading unwanted mix cookies onto new neighbors as a welcome gift . . . you’re spot on.)

The cookies were . . . eh. I decided to fancy ’em up by drizzling white and semi-sweet chocolate over them. (I’m suddenly picturing a pig wearing a dazzling shade of red lipstick.) I’ve never melted white chocolate chips for drizzling before. It doesn’t work. I delicately tried flicking attractive zigzag patterns, but only ended up flinging thick chocolate everywhere and leaving whitish globs in my wake. The semi-sweet chips fared better, though not successfully enough to salvage the doomed batch.

In the end, the cookies ended up looking like they had been made by either a modern artist or a three-year-old. I can’t take them to the neighbors, I just can’t. If I do, they will forever after giggle behind their hands whenever they see me. “That’s the lady,” they shall say. “That’s the lady who gave us mix cookies topped with chocolate globs. Tee hee!” And I’ll have to keep my blinds closed and never go outside and train a dog to get the paper.

All because of a box in a dark corner of the pantry.

2010-11-06T16:02:00.003-06:00

The snowman in the meadow is Parson Brown, not a circus clown.
The politically correct world will just have to deal with it.

(And I'll give you a virtual candy cane if you know what I'm talking about.)

2010-10-31T16:42:00.003-06:00

This Halloween is also brought to you by spiderweb pumpkin cheesecakes with a Halloween Oreo surprise.

2010-10-31T11:43:00.004-06:00

This Halloween is brought to you by

Smiley,

Haunted House,

and zombie-eyed bat earrings.

2010-10-30T17:49:00.003-06:00

This Halloween is brought to you by Mother Nature.

OOOOOOoooooooo!

Unbelievable

2010-10-27T19:45:00.004-06:00

Laugh if you must. I don't want to say "Get lost!" rudely, so I'm saying "Get lost!" cutely.

I put this sign on the front door today. About half an hour later, there was a chummy knock at the door.

"Oh boy!" I thought. "We have a visitor!"

And we did. A visitor who was selling security systems. Or dairy delivery. Or dentures. I don't know. I was dumbfounded that he had approached our door in the first place. Husband showed great restraint as he pointed out our new sign, which would have been right in front of the visitor's face as he ascended our stairs.

I think I need to add an official addendum to our cute sign. One that reads, "By approaching our door you have violated city law and could face a $1,000 fine and/or six months in jail."

I wonder if I should dot the i's with hearts.

(Not So) Scary

2010-10-25T17:09:00.009-06:00

Last week Husband and I decided to have some Halloween fun and visited Scary Hill (aka, Cherry Hill in the summer months). We practiced our swings at the mini-golf course. The course was watched over by Dracula,

one of the witches from Macbeth looking for her missing cauldron,

and this rather distraught Frankenstein searching for his dental insurance plan.

This gargoyle was a bit menacing,

while this jack-o’-lantern had a drooling problem.

The most terrifying thing on the course was this rabbit-headed spider.

(Seriously. It kind of freaked me out.)

Johnny here made me laugh.

We also tried out the haunted batting cages. Okay, they really weren’t haunted, but these ratty required helmets would strike the fear into any hygienically conscious person.

Though the hay maze wasn’t exactly a challenge for those of us who stand 5'10" and 6'2", I found it delightfully cheesy.

(Face blurred to protect the innocent.)

We also enjoyed a tractor ride. (Sorry, no pics. We were too busy snogging.)

I'm not a big fan of scary things, so this low-key evening fit the bill.

Scary Food

2010-10-23T15:03:00.005-06:00

It's so fun to celebrate this time of year with yummies such as slimed cupcakes:

That's slime-filled cupcakes. Ooooohhhh... [cue scary sound effects]

And orange-frosted ghost cake. (Squint. It looks better.)

Happy Halloween Eating!

2010-10-17T20:33:00.003-06:00

Summer isn't the only season with fireworks. You might just have to look in a different place.

Something Smells

2010-10-14T17:15:00.000-06:00

Since it’s the start of my favorite season, I thought it was time for another sensory list. Now that I have to turn the heater on in the morning, I find myself not wanting to stick any inch of exposed skin outside the blankets in the chilly morn. Oddly enough, that makes me smile as I huddle a little longer under my three layers of blankets. (Yes, I’m already using three blankets. Don’t judge me.)

Favorite Fall Fragrances

Wet leaves (what my mother calls “wet dog smell”)

Pumpkin bread baking

Zucchini bread baking

Heck, any autumn dessert baking

Singed jack-o’-lanterns

That plasticky smell of fun-size candy wrappers with a hint of chocolate seeping through (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, go smell a Snickers. you know you already opened that bag of Halloween candy in your cupboard)

Fireplace smoke

Hay

Any of the scented candles I pull out en masse because I don’t burn candles in the summer (summer fragrance candles? really? how can “fresh linen” and “pear” ever compare to “sugar cookie” and “chocolate mint”?)

Wool blankets (they smell stronger when they get wet, fyi. this knowledge was acquired from mandatory band attendance at high school football games)

Oldies but Goodies

2010-10-11T17:20:00.003-06:00

Last weekend Husband and I spent a night in Logan, Utah. Next to our inn was an old building that I had never seen before, though I must have driven by it a number of times. As you can see from the photo, it was the Logan Roller Rink. Windows boarded up, white wood dingy and crackled, the building made my lips smile and my heart frown, as is often the case when I see buildings such as this. I love old buildings, but I feel sad about their loneliness and neglect. I understand that society moves on, but sometimes I wish it didn’t have to move on in such a rush to get to the next biggest thing.

Roller rinks can’t compete with social networking, online chats with Japan, or even streaming movies to our homes. Social gathering places are becoming things of the past in this world of “isolated connectivity,” as I heard it termed recently. Now winking emoticons tell you how someone is feeling, replacing a shy smile from that leg-warmer-clad cutie skating by. (It’s a roller rink. Leg warmers have to be involved.)

In the movie “You’ve Got Mail,” the main character owns a small bookstore that gets put out of business by a big-box store. As she packs up her things she narrates, “It’s a lovely store, and in a week it’ll be something really depressing, like a Baby Gap. Soon, it will be just a memory.”

I would love to know the memories that linger in the cobwebbed corners of that roller rink. I would love to see the building restored. But what would it be? A cheesy reception center serving pastel mints and chicken salad on croissants? A classy art gallery that will go out of business in a few months?

Perhaps the rink is better off as it is, sleeping in its happy dreams of leg warmers and organ music.

Fall Growth

2010-10-07T22:05:00.004-06:00

Even as nights cool, blankets cease being shelf-dusters, mugs steam instead of clink with ice, and one cannot banish the desire to never leave a cocoon of warm covers,

some life goes blithely along its way, still stretching toward the last of the dusky light.

Status Update

2010-10-05T18:09:00.007-06:00

The Top 10 Reasons I’m Considering Quitting Facebook
(In no particular order. My lists aren’t that organized.)

1. My IQ drops a few points every time I log on.

2. I don’t need to know how many times your newborn pooped in 24 hours.

3. I’ve already purged many friends and hidden others.

4. Do you really have that much time to play Farmville?

5. You didn’t want to be my friend in high school; ergo, I don’t want to be your friend now.

6. I’m frightened by how many people don’t know how to spell.

7. As much as you think I really want to see 179 pictures of your children in the same pose . . . I really don’t.

8. I don’t need to know how many times your newborn pooped in 24 hours. (Did I already say that?)

9. You wrote “LOL” twelve times today.

10. It’s only a matter of time before it becomes a partner site with Stalkers Anonymous.

The Top One Reason I’m Considering Not Quitting Facebook
(In no particular order)

1. It’s like a train wreck—you just can’t look away from the carnage.

Enough Already

2010-10-03T21:07:00.005-06:00

This morning I made these:

Peek-a-boo!

They came out looking like this:

I was very happy and rejoiced accordingly.

Then I made this:

Then I died.

Then I cleaned the kitchen for the eleventh time today.

The end.

2010-09-29T21:17:00.002-06:00

Sometimes you just have to have a big pot of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

Don't even waste my time with other brands.

(I would have posted a picture, but I didn't want to afflict any stomachs sensitive to powdery orange goo that makes slimy noises.)

2010-09-27T19:30:00.003-06:00

I love it when the tall grasses do this. Just one of many beautiful signs of fall.