“If you don’t live it, it won’t come out your horn.” ~Charlie Parker

True, true.
I don’t have anything profound coming out of my horn.
I’ve been stuck in my house every day since the basement flooded. Someone has to be home while the workers are fixing drywall, painting, laying carpet, etc.
Consequently, I haven’t been out in the world very much. No thrilling experiences to share.
I did manage to escape to the bead store today to feed my new addiction. I think I need to start taking a chaperone so I don’t spend all of my money. Or maybe I could just take my limit in cash, no credit cards or checks…govern myself that way. I lack self control. This may very well be my biggest flaw.

 
Being holed up in the house hasn’t been entirely bad. I am totally caught up on laundry and the bathrooms are clean. Also, I now have cover art for most of the music on my iPod, and two new playlists that I am loving. I know…total productivity.
Oh, and! I joined Facebook. Do you do Facebook? Funny who comes out of the woodwork, isn’t it? Blasts from the past.
Someone reminded me of the time when we were 14 and I talked her into climbing into the back of a random truck in the parking lot of the local grocery store, then hiding under the tarp that covered the contents in the truck bed, just so we would have an adventure and “see where we ended up.”
We ended up at some dude’s house about 6 miles from where we started. So the adventure turned out to be a really long walk. Woo hoo!

 
Speaking of adventures. Would you like to hear about last Friday night? Too bad. I’m gonna tell it anyway. As you may or may not be aware, a certain book was being released at midnight to all the die hard fans willing to wait in line at the bookstore. I was one of those fans. I didn’t dress up in a weird costume or anything, but I was there. And I was excited.
We decided to make a night of it, so we went to dinner before the bookstore, where, upon ordering my asparagus-containing entree, the waiter asked me if asparagus makes my pee stink.
Not your typical waiter/person about to eat dinner banter, but whatever. I told him that I think my pee always stinks. I don’t know if that was an appropriate response. But I do know that it was an inappropriate question so I’m thinking my answer was fine.
Dinner was good, conversation even better. Then it was time to hit the madness of the bookstore.
When we got there, we were told that even though we reserved a copy of the book, we were looking at a wait in line of about 2 1/2 hours.
There were hundreds of people there. Shelby and some random stranger in the line behind us started thinking of ways around the wait. We came up with the idea of offering to buy the book of one of the people at the head of the line in exchange for snagging some extra copies for us. Somehow, I was suckered into being the one to make the offer.
It was peer pressure. 100 percent.
When I went into the bookstore, I actually bumped into one of the brides Kelly and I photographed together, and wouldn’t you know it? She was right near the front of the line. A few minutes into our conversation, she actually offered to get our books for us.
I could have kissed her on the mouth right then.
We were home, in our jammies, books in hand by 12:30. Time to read.
I only lasted until 4:30 am. I didn’t actually finish until Sunday. Life just kept interrupting the reading.
So now the burning question! How was it?
I can’t say. I mean, I don’t want to say. Ok, fine. I’ll say it. I was disappointed.
I am going to read it again, though. I’m giving it another chance. I was just so shocked by some of the stuff in there that I don’t know if I gave it a fair shake. That’s my review for now.

 
Wow. That’s a pretty wordy post for not having anything to blow my horn about.
I guess I’ve always got an ample supply of hot air.
Apologies.

Somebody woke up from his nap in a crappy mood. I tried playing with him. I tried cuddling with him. I tried to cheer him up.
He was beyond reason.
So, I left him in his room crying. Sometimes this is my only course of action.
But, he wanted me to listen to him cry. He followed me down the hall…

Too upset to walk, though. He did an army-style crawl on his tummy.

Pathetic.

Wait woman! I’m showing you how sad I am! Where are you going? Turn around and look at me! Here, I’ll show you again…See? I’m doing this…

(holds position longer for impact…)

Hey! You’re leaving again? Don’t make me crawl after you! Ok, I’ll crawl after you…

Where did she go? Into the office? If she thinks I’ll give in that easily, she’s got another thing comin’.

There you are! Now listen to me throw my fit!

Oh….Hi Daddy! I didn’t realize you were home! Glad to see you!

Ahem. Now where was I? Oh yes….

Did anyone miss me?
I’ve been a little preoccupied. And tired.

 
I even missed yesterday’s Sunday Dinner post. It would have blown your mind with it’s simple genius. Ingredients were whole wheat tortillas, colby jack cheese, and a microwave.

 
But! I am going to make up for it by sharing one of the best recipes I have. No kidding, either. It’s a keeper. I got it from my friend Sy and man-O-man, does that woman know how to cook.
In my recipe book, it’s simply called Sy’s Quiche. But I am thinking of changing the name to “The best thing I have ever put in my mouth”.
You call it what you want. But make it, cause it rocks.

Sy’s Quiche

1 1/2 C. finely chopped ham
1/2 C. chopped onion
1 T. butter
10 oz. frozen spinach (cooked & drained)
1 1/2 C. grated swiss cheese
1/2 C. grated monterray jack cheese
6 beaten eggs
1 1/2 C. cream
1 C. milk
1/2 tsp. tobasco ( I use a bit more)
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 tsp. pepper
3/4 tsp. salt
refrigerated pie crust (I think Sy makes her own, but that’s not how I roll.)

 
I have adapted this recipe to make individual quiches, but you can make one big quiche if you prefer. The method is the same, but the cooking time will be longer. (about an hour)

 
Roll out pie crust and divide into 8 pieces.

(As a side note, you could make this crustless to save on fat, calories and carbs or whatever thing you are currently depriving yourself of. It’s still delicious.)
Press into quiche dishes. Prick bottoms with a fork. Place a piece of foil in crust with pie weights or dry beans. This keeps the crust in the proper shape while it bakes.

Bake at 450 degrees for 5-7 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool. Lower oven temp to 325 degrees.
Sautee chopped onion in butter. Let cool.

Butter? Yes. Butter.

Sprinkle ingredients evenly over crusts. Start with the ham and onions first.

Then the spinach and cheese.

Whisk together remaining ingredients.

Pour into each crust.

Place in oven in a water bath and bake for about 30 minutes or until knife inserted in center comes out clean.

Cool for about 5 minutes, and enjoy!


 

I’ve been working on this video project today that has both stressed me out and taken up a huge chunk of my day. Also, it caused me to growl at The Little Guy. I feel guilty about it. Really, really guilty.
It’s just that at the very moment he decided to say ‘Momma’ 500 hundred times in a row (getting progressively louder each time) I was learning that two weeks worth of video shoots had been filmed without sound. And I was going to have to call 10 people and ask them if they could once again meet with me to film their part of the project.
I’ll stop sharing details because they are irrelevant. Let’s just say that when I realized what happened, I felt my stomach drop, the blood drain from my face, and I screamed NO! so loud that it echoed throughout the neighborhood.
It wasn’t The Little Guy’s fault though. And I think I broke his heart.
I will burn for that someday, I know it.
The worst part is that about 20 minutes later, I realized that I am just stupid and my video is not ruined afterall.
I’ll spend most of tomorrow making it up to him. I might even give him a cookie after breakfast. He asks every morning even though I always say no.

 
Do you know what’s happening tomorrow? I know that there are many who consider it completely silly to be so excited about a book being released. But heaven help me, I was in love with these books before I knew it was considered uncool or strange for someone of my…ahem…age to love them. And, the truth is, I just don’t care.
I am dropping the boys off at my parent’s house and then I have plans with my friend (also crazy) for dinner and at midnight we’ll be at the bookstore to get our own copies of the much anticipated fourth book. We’re just going to read until our eyes won’t stay open any longer.

 
Lastly, I had a lovely conversation with my good friend Rachel tonight during which she referred to me as a hermit. It didn’t hit me until a little while after we hung up, that I don’t know if that is a good or bad thing. Guess what I did? I looked it up.

hermit

noun
1. one retired from society for religious reasons [syn: anchorite]
2. one who lives in solitude

I know Rachel didn’t mean it as a bad thing. (seriously, girl…the love is still strong) It’s just that I tend to be content in my own little bubble here. I don’t feel the need to make many phone calls or social visits. I’ve always been like that. Not to say I don’t love my friends, because I do. I guess I am happy in my own company too, and I am never good at calling people.
But, with your permission, Rachel. I’m changing the word hermit to self-contained unit. I like that description better.
It sounds a little less pathetic.

I went to Cherry Hill last week and neglected to put sunscreen on my back. I got fried. Just yesterday it stopped hurting and started to really itch. Like a bear on a tree trunk, I’ve been using a variety of surfaces around the house as scratching posts. But, this morning I thought I was going to die from itchiness.

 
“Kelly! You have to scratch my back right now!” I pulled up the back of my shirt and waited for the relief.
Hesitantly, he started to lightly scratch with his nubby fingers. I was all, “Dude! Put some force behind it! I’m dying here.”
He said, “But the skin is peeling and it’s getting under my fingernails.” So I say, “Then peel it for crying out loud. That should help it to stop itching.”
He then said, “Listen, I know you like to do sick things like that, but I think these bodily secretions (yeah, he called my peeling skin a secretion) are disgusting.”
So, he pulled my shirt down and started rubbing it over the shirt.

 
Whatever. That only made it worse. I turned around and spotted T sitting on my bedroom floor. I went and sat down in front him, yanked the back of my shirt up and said, “Hey, buddy…do Momma a favor and peel that white stuff for me.” He gently patted my shoulder and said, “That looks weird. I don’t want to touch it.”

 
What is wrong with these guys? I LOVE to peel sunburned skin. Even if it’s not mine. Doesn’t everyone derive joy from doing this?
Just then, The Fish walked in and said, “Mom, I’m done brushing my teeth, now what’s my chore?” I seized the opportunity.
“Your chore is to peel my freaking back before I go crazy from itch.” I sat down on a stool and put him to work.

 
He didn’t seem bothered by it. He quietly got down to business. After a minute, he leaned over and said, “Hey, if I’m being too rough, just let me know.” I told him that would be impossible, and that if he had a steel wire brush, I’d have him use that on me.
After another minute, he said, “Mom, since you’re just sitting there, do you want me to go get your book for you?”
This is top notch service he’s providing. I said, “That is a great idea, Fish.” He ran to get the book, handed it to me with a smile, then went back to work. When he was finished, he offered to scratch, to which I said, Yes, please. And then, to top it off, he told me to let him know when I needed him again.

 
With all the things I worry about teaching these boys, I couldn’t help but think I’m doing a pretty good job of teaching The Fish how to take care of a lady.
I can take credit for that right?

Against my better judgement, I came home from Costco today with five dozen eggs.
Did you know that it’s only like, $1 more than buying a mere two dozen from the regular grocery store? How could I resist?
Aside from the problem of how to fit them in my fridge, I’m going to have to spend some time looking for new ways to cook eggs.
But maybe the new cookbook I bought there will be of some help. I seriously cannot leave that store without buying a book of some sort. I’m a weak unit.

 
I usually have an idea of what I’m going to post about early in the day, but ever since our basement flooded, consequently forcing us to keep the Love Sac upstairs, (in my line of sight) I cannot resist the urge to jump into it’s enormous fluffiness and sink down into it, letting it embrace me with comfort and the promise of a good nap. Again, I’m a weak unit.
I’m usually a high energy, efficient, project-having kind of person. The Love Sac is killing my productivity.
Thus, this lame post.
Let’s hope the basement is finished sooner than later.

I met the nicest old woman today. She was quiet but spunky. She looked directly into my eyes and smiled whenever I spoke to her. Her hands were soft as silk, and warm to the touch.
I talked with her for a few minutes and held her hand as we walked up a flight of stairs.
She called me Sweetie. And Dear.
I hope I’m like her when I’m old. I want to be soft and warm and nice to people I don’t know.
I’m afraid I’m not going to be like that, though.
I think I might be crotchety and snarky.
I was thinking that I should start practicing sweetness now.
Also, not saying things like douche bag.
Nothing quite as off-putting as an old lady with a potty mouth.

Of all the Sunday Dinner posts I’ve done, this is truly the easiest of all. Anyone…even the most inexperienced of cooks can master this technique.

 
The first step is to suck up to your friends and get a dinner invite.

 
Upon arrival, you’ll want to plant yourself somewhere in the kitchen. Try to get a spot with a good view of the action.

Don’t do anything but sit and talk. Whatever you do, DO NOT offer to help. Your job here is to talk and take pictures of the work being done around you.

Try to keep from drooling over the farm stand corn on the cob. You will not be invited over again if you drool on the food.
I know that there are few things as tasty as fresh, sweet corn-on-the-cob, but really…wipe your chin.

This next step is a little tricky. Carefully follow the uncooked food outside to where the grill is located. Snap a picture of someone else grilling your dinner. Again, DO NOT offer to help. These are trained professionals. They know what they are doing.

Immediately after this step, go right back into the house because it’s 100 degrees out and you don’t want to start sweating.
Nobody likes a sweaty dinner guest.

 
That’s all there is to it!

 
We had marinated flank steak and it was SO delicious. Definitely one that I want to repeat on my own at home. It was so flavorful and tender. Shelby was kind enough to share the recipe with me, and now I am sharing it with you.

Flank Steak Marinade

1/2 C apple juice
3/4 C sugar
1/2 C Soy Sauce
1/2 C veg. oil
1 clove garlic (minced)
1/2 tsp. ginger (opt.)
1/2 onion, chopped (white or yellow)
Marinate the steak overnight, and grill it how you like.

 
This is one that is definitely going in my permanent file. Try it! You won’t be disappointed.
But, just for the record, everything tastes better when someone else does the work.

Farm fresh fruit (the three F’s)

Babies as accessories.

Dogs welcome.


 

Things for the garden.

Crafts for sale.

Child labor.

Farm Fresh Potatoes (FFP’s)

Fiddle player.

This guy.

I stepped in dog poop while getting this picture.

 

Today a cute, young woman asked me when I knew I loved my husband.
“How do you know when you’re in love?” she said.
This gave me pause. Isn’t that a great question?

 
When Kelly and I met, I was already attached to a guy with a mullet. It was the early 90’s guys. We have to cut him some slack.
Kelly and I were working at a books/music/video store called Hastings. He was the music manager (oooooo!) and I was a lowly cashier.

 
My first impression of him was that he was kind of bossy. I thought he was handsome, in a non-mullet-having sort of way. But, he always wore these little ankle socks and tucked in his freshly pressed shirts. Cute, but not my type.

 
We used to go to concerts together with our fellow co-workers. Working at that store had lots of free perks like that. Concert tickets, backstage passes and the like. It was fun.
Even though we were going with a group of people, we always seemed to pair off.
No doubt, he wanted me.
Once, at a School of Fish concert, he took me up front to the mosh pit and when he reached back to pull me up to the front of the action, he accidentally hit my face with his hand. As a pure reflex, I hauled off and punched him in the head.
I am certain this is the moment he fell in love with me.

 
Shortly after that, I dumped the mullet and we began dating.
We used to sit in his car in the parking lot after work and talk for hours. About everything. I loved being with him because I wasn’t always the entertainer. It seemed then that was my role in most of my relationships, but with Kelly, it was different. He entertained me. We had such fun together.
That was the first thing.
The next thing was that he seemed to fit in my world. He was comfortable at my parents’ house. He liked my dog. He didn’t seem to mind just hanging out with me doing nothing in particular. More importantly, he didn’t mind that I am a little crazy.
You think I’m kidding, but ask someone that really knows me. It’s true.

 
But if I had to nail it down to one single moment. One moment when I thought, ‘Yes. This is the guy for me.‘…here it is.
We were at a restaurant eating lunch together. I ordered a club sandwich.
We were just sitting there eating and chatting when out of the blue he picked up his fork and started stabbing my club sandwich repeatedly. It was a massacre…food flying everywhere.
I was stunned.
I stared at the plate for a minute and then looked up at him, who was, by this time casually sipping his drink, and I swear…that was the moment I knew that he was the PERFECT match for me.

Idea #8 Find a photo of a person you do not know. Write a brief bio about them. (Huh?)

 


 
She is not formally educated, but has gained wisdom from her life’s experiences. She has a bit of a temper, but keeps it inside. She handles her aggression with the use of voodoo dolls and spitting at passers by.

 
Hobbies include herb growing, riding a bike with a large basket on the front in which to collect various treasures from the side of the road, astrology, tanning, and people watching.

 
She is the oldest of five children. Her parents relied on her for much of the care of her siblings which resulted in early grey hair. She is self-conscious of this, and hides her locks under this wrap. She makes the headwraps herself by dying fabric with plant roots and hot water.

 
She’s been smoking since she was 9 years old. She’s not really hooked on the nicotine, it’s just that she likes having something dangling from her lip. She tried to replace the cigarette with a Bic pen, but the weight was all wrong and it didn’t stay put when she coughed or spoke.
Habits are hard to break.

 
She earns a living by running a roadside fortune telling shack. (free head wrap with every reading)

 
She loves Mad Libs (honestly, who doesn’t?) and her favorite food is turkey legs, carnival style. She spends her after-work hours lounging in a kiddie pool behind her Westfalia van. She eats grilled cheese sandwiches every night for dinner.

I have this weird bump on my right upper arm. I don’t know what it is, but I just wanted to say that if I inexplicably drop dead in the coming weeks, have someone check into the bump. (It’s on my To-Do List, but you know how it is…)
Now that that’s out of the way, I shall tell you about this day.
It was a day of little self-discoveries. I’m not just referring to the bump on my arm either.

 
I walked outside early this morning to work in my yard and the minute I stepped outdoors, I could smell rain. I took a deep breath through my nose and smiled. Rain always used to make me sad, but not today. I think the difference is the garden.

 
Since it’s Kelly’s day off we played a bit of RockBand together. That game just doesn’t get old! We did something we’ve never done before…a guitar duel. I had this strange feeling burning in my stomach while we played. At first, I thought it might be the cayenne pepper I put in my soup for lunch, but then I realized it was in fact, a feeling of determination. I’ve never considered myself to be a competitive person before, but, I can’t deny it. I wanted to win! Bad! (And I did win a few.)

 
I finished reading a book that made me feel sad. But the strange thing is that I liked it. I wanted to marinate in it all day long. I resisted being cheery until just about 30 minutes ago when I put on my pajamas.
I can’t help myself. I just love my pajamas.

Instead of a recipe for this Sunday’s cooking post, I thought I’d make a list and share my favorite things in my kitchen. The one thing they all have in common is that they make my cooking experience more enjoyable for one reason or another.
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First thing I thought of was this knife. Using it is a pleasure.

This is the little ceramic crock that sits next to my cooktop. It holds all the most-used items and is within grabbing distance. Also, it’s my signature color.

Up next, is this collection of ice cream scoops. I use them for just about everything BUT ice cream. Cookie dough, muffin mix, etc. They make the perfect sized scoops and everything turns out to be uniform in size and my hands don’t get messy in the process.

Look close….I’m waving to you in the reflection.

Can’t forget the slow cooker.

This next one seems so obvious, but I went many years and suffered through much overcooked meat before I coughed up the five bucks for a meat thermometer.

I love muffin tins. All sizes of muffin tins. I make mini-muffins that are just the right size for popping in your mouth. (no mess) and jumbo muffins for breakfast or when we have dinner guests. But I also really love to make soups in large batches and freeze them in single serving sizes in muffin tins then put the frozen portions in a ziplock bag. It’s all ready for lunch on a busy day and it keeps me from eating peanut butter and jelly with the boys.

These next two items just make life easier. A zester (microplane) and a citrus reamer.

Do you know what else I love? Single servings. Isn’t it so much more fun when you serve people their very own little pot pie or quiche? Even desserts like cobblers or lava cakes are made more special when presented in single servings.

Now for the cookbook collection. I love browsing cookbooks at the book store. Some of my favorites include, any Barefoot Contessa cookbook, Bold American Food, Always in Season, and Simple Slowcooker Recipes.

Last, but definitely not least, my favorite thing in my kitchen.

The stereo that I connect my iPod to. Music makes cooking dinner feel like a party. I turn it up, tune the kids out and go to work.
I even have a playlist on my iPod entitled Cooking Music.
Here’s a little sampling…have fun in the kitchen and rock on.

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